#no one comes here because Azriel doesn’t think of his own place as home

[starsxblazing]

Could i request and azriel fic where he had a crush on reader for years but didn’t act on it because he wss fixated on this whole three brothers and three sisters thing. But he realised that he and elain don’t have anything in common so they stay friends and he tells her about reader. When he sees her again she had a child with another illyrian but they aren’t together. Her son is maybe 2-3 years old, he starts to spend more time with her as friends but he knows that he still loves her. The bond snaps for him but he doesn’t say anything yet. He basically moved her into his home because he wants them to be together every minute. (Some dadaz and son time would be cute. ) They all sit at dinner with the inner circle and readers son calls him dad, cassian and rhys are both happy for their brother and thats when the bond also snaps for reader. Just fluff and daddy az ? Where he shows him how to fly and tell the babe how he is going to be a big brother.

That may be long, so if you don’t want to write something that long, then thats also fine 🫶🏼

a/n: I can't say enough just how much I love seeing the batboys being fathers

Azriel x Reader

Yours Truly

Azriel hated going to the war camps and always avoided it whenever he could. Despite his feelings, Rhysand had ordered him to go with Cassian to check in with them since the war was drawing closer. He glanced around as they made their way into the heart of the camp, noting the variety of women and children scattered about. There were far more here than at any of the other camps and whereas all Illyrians treated their women horribly, it wasn’t as bad here. 

He sat back in the meeting and let Cassian do the talking, being merely backup if it was needed. It was all that he could do to keep his attention on the conversation but his need to leave had him restless. No sooner than his brother could turn to leave the tent, Azriel beat him to it. They all knew how he felt so Cassian continued on behind him in silence as they gauged the training.

They hadn’t made it halfway to the training rings before a body collided with his. He took a step back before kneeling down and extending a hand to help. When you looked up at him, he noted the beauty in you that was much different than any other Illyrian female. You smiled sheepishly at him but placed your hand into his. His eyes scanned over you briefly and hoped that you didn’t notice it but when he met your gaze again, you were grinning. It took him off guard because everyone in the camps usually shied away from him but here you were, unafraid of his intimidating stare.

“Thank you,” you said breathlessly.

“You’re welcome,” he mumbled as his eyes locked on your hand that you hadn’t pulled away.

“I’m Y/N.” You gave him a smile that he could have sworn was apologetic. “Sorry about-”

“Y/N!!” 

You spun on your heels to see the male calling your name. He watched your body go tense and could taste the fear coming off of you in waves. There were similarities between you and the male and judging by the scowl, you weren’t treated well at home. The male grabbed your wrist with an iron grip that caused you to wince and he instantly bristled in anger. This was one of the main reasons that he hated being around other Illyrians.

“I was just going to-”

“I hope you had the good decency to apologize for your carelessness,” the male growled as he pulled on you.

He wasn’t sure why it was you in particular that he suddenly felt so protective of but chalked it up to the fact that he usually didn’t see the mistreatment right in front of him. Without thinking, he wrapped his hand around the male’s wrist with a force that had him immediately letting go. A growl escaped him and the man that he assumed was your father stumbled backwards.

“You can leave,” he snapped and the male had enough of his own sense to scurry away.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice soft as you rubbed your wrist.

“Pleased to be of service,” he replied drily, earning another smile from you.

“I really didn’t mean to run into you.”

Glancing behind him, Cassian had disappeared and he wasn’t sure if he had seen the interaction. It didn’t matter either way but he suddenly didn’t have the urge to leave. There was something about you that had him debating whether he should leave or not, knowing that you would suffer repercussions once you returned home. You shifted your body when he glanced at your wings. 

“Do you want to fly?” he asked suddenly, surprised with himself for such an outburst.

“I- Uh- Can’t,” you mumbled, the words almost incoherent. 

“With me,” he corrected.

Azriel watched you carefully and felt hope blossom within him when you turned to look behind you. There was a hopefulness in your eyes but the reluctance was written in your body. A silent sigh of relief passed his lips when you nodded slightly. He chuckled when he grabbed you quickly and shot into the air and a quiet scream left you. 

Once he leveled out in the air, your eyes immediately scanned the landscape with awe and wonder on your face. It eased some part of his heart that he hadn’t realized had tightened as he watched. There was no questioning the peace that you were now feeling for a partial experience of what you could never have yourself.

You had difficulty tearing your eyes away from the beautiful scenery as you flew in the spymaster’s arms. It was no secret who he and the general were and you had felt embarrassed that you had run into him. Surprisingly, there was no fear of him that most people had but you did feel safe for a change in his arms. Not to mention the fact that you had been even more surprised when he had scared your father off. Nobody had ever bothered to protect you and your opinion of the Night Court leaders were heightened just for that alone. 

Your father was in one of his moods and nothing that you did was right in his opinion no matter if he had been drinking or not. He had screamed at you for fifteen minutes but as soon as he raised his hand, you sprinted through the door. It all led you to being able to fly even if it wasn’t your own doing before Azriel landed on top of one of the mountains.

“This is beautiful.” 

Your breath puffed in front of you before being swept off by the wind as you stared in awe. When you looked back at him, he was watching you intently and you suddenly felt self conscious. You gave him a small smile that he returned but his gaze never left you, even as he moved closer. Warmth rolled off of him from the few inches that he left between you both and you found so much comfort in it. You couldn’t remember the last time that you felt this way and your heart begged you not to let him leave.

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get anywhere else and you ended up sitting up under a snow covered tree while he asked you questions about your life. You had been so lost in conversation that you didn’t notice at first when his hand wrapped gently around yours. The small act caused your heart to race and you had no interest in pulling it away.

Time passed you by too quickly for your liking despite the fact that enough had gone by for the sun to now be descending in the sky. By the time that he was gathering you in his arms, you were praying to the Mother that he would come back to see you again.

Azriel brushed Cassian off when he returned home and his brother began to interrogate him. He didn’t want to talk about how he was feeling, especially not when he had to figure it out himself. A quiet nagging in his heart wouldn’t let him leave without knowing more about you and he hated having to leave you alone.

He returned to the camp at any opportunity that he had and lost more sleep than he could keep up with just to see you. If what he felt for Mor was love, then what he felt for you was indescribable. It surpassed reason but he couldn’t stay away, not even when he began questioning Elain’s mating bond. The entire situation didn’t make any sense to him, especially when he felt sour when he thought about it.

“Oh, gods!”

His heart skipped a beat at the sound of your voice. He had just gotten back from rescuing Elain from Hybern’s army and the last person that he expected to see was you as he was being forced into one of the healing tents for his injuries. You watched him with caution, tears lining your eyes while you took in every injury that he had. It caused his heart to clench as his love for you spread through him. 

“What are you doing here?” The question came out as if he was out of breath, as if he hadn’t had time to come down from the adrenaline rush. “We’re in the middle of a-”

“War? Yea, I noticed,” you replied, staring pointedly at him. “I’m here helping out. I’m nothing spectacular but I can still help with some parts of the healing process.”

Your words hit him like a stone to the chest. He wanted so badly for you to see yourself differently but he was momentarily stunned into silence as you approached him. You knelt before him and began the process of washing the blood off of him. Every touch was surprisingly gentle even though he could barely think through the close proximity. It didn’t make much sense to him since the both of you were always close together whenever he visited but it was somehow different this time.

“You are.” His throat felt tight and the burning in his eyes started when he remembered that you were treated horribly by his own people. “More than you know.”

Your eyes flicked to his and there were still unshed tears in your eyes. He watched your throat bob before you ducked your head down to continue cleaning and wrapping his injuries. There was nothing that he wouldn’t give to know what you were thinking but he didn’t have time to question you before Rhysand walked in.

“Y/N?” The High Lord raised a brow at her as she looked sheepishly at him. “I thought you were going to bed.”

“Well, I was but I heard Thesan saying that someone was injured and a healer was coming so I thought that I’d help out.” All of the words escaped you all in one breath as you shifted in what he assumed was worry. “I didn’t think it would hurt to help one more person.”

“You’ve been working hard all day,” his brother replied gently, his eyes darting between the two of you. “Although I have to admit that my shadowsinger is in good hands.”

“I’m doing all that I can,” you laughed quietly, the sound causing his heart to clench. “I promise I’m done for the night once I’m done here.”

The High Lord nodded, his face still tender but when you looked away, there was mischief in his eyes. Azriel blocked it out and his attention refocused fully on you. His injuries weren’t as bad as he thought and definitely weren’t anywhere near as bad as his wings were. She took note of said wings before meeting his gaze. 

“I wish I could do something to help,” you muttered. “I wish I had some form of special healing magic and-”

“You’re special just as you are.”

Your eyes went wide in surprise and despite his pain, he stood and pulled you up with him. He pulled you into him, enjoying your warmth against him that suddenly had him feeling ten times better. There was an underlying feeling that he couldn’t describe pulling at his heart and he was content to stay like this for the rest of his life. 

It wasn’t until Elain suddenly returned to his mind that he pulled away. In no way would it be fair to you to string you along whenever he was sure that the Cauldron had been wrong. He took a step back and the sudden pain in your gaze had him taking a deep breath.

“You really should get some rest,” he mumbled as he took a few more steps back to place distance between the both of you. “Thank you for your help.”

A simple nod was all that he got before you ran from the tent, taking a piece of his heart along with you.

You couldn’t wrap your head around what the shift in Azriel was about. His heart had picked up its pace just before he pulled away from you. It was unusual for him to do so unless it was time for you to part ways but something about it was different this time. The feeling felt more like a goodbye and it was one thing in particular that you had a hard time swallowing.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You turned to see who was calling for you and it was the exceptionally good looking Illyrian that had flirted with you earlier while you tended to his minor wounds. A thought passed your mind that you would enjoy the attention from him in hopes that it would drive your thoughts away from the shadowsinger. 

“You look like you’re healing well,” you laughed, suddenly feeling shy as his full attention stayed on you as he moved closer.

“I think I have one that needs to be rewrapped if you don’t mind taking a look at it.”

You knew what the underlying meaning was and you also knew that it was wrong. Despite that, you followed him to the tent with the intention to forget and chase away the weight that came with war.

The male was already gone from his tent the next morning and you were surprised that you had slept in a bit longer than you meant to. By the time you were up and dressed, you could hear the war beginning. You simply stood with the other healers and waited and watched with both dread and hope.

There was so much work to be done when it was over that you didn’t have time to look for the male that you had so desperately fallen in love with. It did hurt your heart a bit when you were told that both your father and brother had died in the war but you weren’t particularly sorry for it. There was even a tinge of pain when the male that you had fallen into bed with was announced deceased as well.

You made a half hearted attempt to look for Azriel but had given up when it seemed like he had disappeared. If nothing else told you that it was truly an act of farewell, the fact that he was staying hidden from you did. With a sigh, you followed one of your close friends back to your camp.

It was strange returning home to an empty house but there was a sense of relief knowing that you would no longer be critiqued about every little thing that you did. A passing thought of being forced unwillingly into a marriage crossed your mind. That thought officially left your mind a month later when your best friend, Iris, found you on the outskirts of the camp by the bushes as you lost your stomach for the third time that day. 

“You’re..” The sound of Iris sniffing came from behind you as the female rubbed your back soothingly. “You’re pregnant.”

“What!?”

You spun so quickly that it had your head spinning and you vomited yet again. High Fae had an incredibly hard time having children but it appeared that the lesser ones didn’t. Azriel came to your mind again, the thought of him hurting you just as much as before. There wasn’t a day that went by that you didn’t think about him and it didn’t tear your heart into. 

You were foolish to think that someone as important and special as he was to actually want you just as much as you wanted him. Even if he had, you highly doubted that he would now that you were carrying a deceased male’s child. That thought also hurt because your child would grow up without a father and be shunned because he was a bastard child.

Iris was there for you throughout the entire pregnancy no matter what was said about either of you. She was a great friend and you couldn’t be any more thankful for her. She was due to be wed a week before you gave birth and for that, you were thankful as well. 

The labor was long and hard but thankfully successful either way and as you held your newborn son in your hands, you felt a love like no other in the world. 

Azriel had questioned Elain’s mating bond for four years and even after that, he fell in love with her. Or at least he thought that he had. He had been sure that he was the one meant for her since his brothers had been mated to the female’s sisters. Most of the time, he sat in the garden with her while she chatted away in happiness. There had been a change in her over the last couple of months as she began to spend time with her mate. 

He didn’t have much in common with her and no matter how much time had passed, he still couldn’t get you off of his mind. He felt horrible for disappearing on you without a word but at the time, he felt that it was the best course of action. You deserved to be loved and appreciated but what you deserved more was an explanation. He had never been good with expressing his emotions but he should have tried harder with you.

“- And Lucien says that the scenery in Spring Court is beautiful.”

His thoughts of you had tuned out Elain’s one sided conversation but the fact that she was talking about her mate and not him made him feel at ease. He hoped that he wouldn’t be breaking her heart as he had undoubtedly done yours. Then again, there was also the possibility that you may have very well been married off since your father and brother had passed in the war. You deserved happiness but he desperately wanted to be the one to give that to you.

“Where have your thoughts gone to?” Elain asked, watching him with a curious gaze. 

“I met someone a few years back,” he admitted quietly while gauging her reaction.

“A she?”

“Yes.”

Elain fell silent but it wasn’t filled with tension as he had dreaded that it would be. Instead, she appeared thoughtful before her gaze fell upon him again, eyes full of questions. He didn’t know how much information that he would give her but he felt the sudden need to talk about you to someone. Anyone. 

“Who is she?” she finally asked, setting down her gardening tool to give him her full attention.

“Y/N.” Your name falling past his lips had him ready to shoot into the skies and fly to you as fast as he could. “I met her in one of the camps before the war.”

“And you love her.” It wasn’t a question but a frown fell on her face. “Why haven’t you said anything to anyone?”

“She deserves better.” A half lie but a shiver ran up his spine as he forced himself to be vulnerable. “She has probably found it after all of these years.”

“You’re a great male,” Elain reassured, giving him a small smile. “My opinion may not matter much but I think that you should at least go talk to her.”

He took a few moments to ponder his choices and what he could possibly say to you to make things better. Elain watched him with that same reassuring smile so he took to the skies before he could think any more about it. His heart pounded hard in his chest during the entire flight, his nerves on edge for whatever could happen.

There were many wary glances thrown in his direction when he landed but he paid them no mind as he let his intuition guide him to you. His first stop was your home and unfortunately, you didn’t answer the door. As he turned back to head back towards the heart of the camp, he was truly beginning to wonder if you had married. The thought hurt but he deserved it if that was the case. 

No sooner than he reached the first market stall, the faintest hint of your scent filled his senses. His eyes scanned the small crowd and quickly found you with a small child by your side, a hand gripped tightly around yours. As if you could sense him, your wide eyes met his and it was in that moment that you overtook all of his senses.

The Illyrians around him faded into nothing as that golden thread that now bound the two of you together shined brightly on his end. You gave him a small, shy smile but didn’t make a move to step closer. He let his gaze drift to the child as you picked him up and he noted everything about him quickly. 

The boy had every feature of an Illyrian so to him, it meant that you had moved on. He didn’t deserve the explanation that he wanted but found himself hopeful whenever you walked towards him. Instead of directly addressing him, you simply nodded your head to your home. He followed closely behind while glaring at anyone who dared look at you too long or with disdain.

“We haven’t seen you or Cassian in a while,” you started as the three of you entered the home and sat the boy down. “Come to check on training?”

“I came to see you,” he admitted, shifting on his feet in his nervous state. “I didn’t- I didn’t handle it right.”

“Go play, sweetheart,” you muttered to the boy who did as told before you turned back to him. “I get it. I’m not-”

“You are everything,” he growled softly once he was close enough to cup your face. “I was foolish to let you go.”

“Az-”

“No.” His voice was thick again from his throat tightening, his nerves at an all time high as the bond sang inside of him. “I love you and I always have. But you deserve so much better.”

“I could say the same about you,” you whispered as tears lined your eyes again. “Nobody wants a female with a bastard son much less an Illyrian female with one.”

“He’s beautiful,” he murmured. “Any male would be foolish for letting you go. Just as I was.”

“You deserve better and-”

Azriel cut her off by crashing his lips to hers and his heart warmed at how you melted into him. He had come with the intention to win you back at all costs only to find out that you were his mate. It truly was a feeling like no other, an experience that could never be described without doing it justice. Little feet could be heard so you pulled back quickly and place a few feet of distance between the two of you.

“Mama.” The boy peered curiously around the corner, eyes moving between the both of you. “Who’s that?”

“Aeden, this is Azriel.” You smiled tenderly at the boy before looking at him. “Az, this is Aeden.”

“Hey!” Aeden exclaimed happily but turned back to his mother. “Eat and fly!”

“We can eat,” you laughed softly, stretching your hand out towards him. “We can look again for someone to help you fly.”

His heart was now a puddle on the floor. You had a son that more than likely didn’t know a thing about flying at his young age. Aeden’s Illyrian instincts were already screaming at him to learn how to fly and there was seemingly no one to teach him. His brain began nagging him but he wasn’t sure how to voice what he wanted to say.

“There’s no one that will help him fly?” he asked quietly when you joined him on the couch while the boy ate.

“No,” you answered with an equally quiet tone. “Nobody quite wants to be around us due to the circumstances. Not even my best friend’s husband.”

“Come to Velaris.” The words escaped him before he had time to realize what he was thinking. “You would both be loved and me, Cass, and Rhys can teach him how to fly. He’d love Nyx.”

You assessed him for a moment and placed a quick kiss against his lips before your son could see. Relief flooded through him when you nodded your head, leaving him feeling better than he had ever before in his life.

You stood in the foyer of the place that Azriel called home, contemplating everything that had led you here. It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful and appreciated his offer but it was because of how out of place that you felt. A townhouse was somewhere that you would have never guessed that you would ever call home. You had barely had time to agree before the shadowsinger was reassuring you tenderly all while offering to help you pack up what was needed.

He had promised that there would be better belongings waiting for you and he hadn’t lied. You were surprised to learn that the High Lord and Lady themselves had gone out of their way to buy both you and your son some things that you needed. Something within you nagged you about the generous charity that it felt like but as you watched your son get settled, all of that went away without a trace.

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” you asked later that night, for some reason dreading the answer.

“You have a room there.” He pointed to a guest room beside Aeden’s. “Or..”

“Or what?” You raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you suggesting that I can sleep with you?”

“If- If you-” Azriel tripping over his words with a new wave of nervousness was somewhat amusing. “If you want.”

You gave him a small smile, touching his shoulder in reassurance before checking in on your son. Anticipation shot through you as you relaxed in the bath, contemplating your two options. There hadn’t been a moment of peace since you had given birth and hoped that the new environment would keep the three year old in his own bed that night. Once you were clean, you took a deep breath before knocking on the door and stepping past the threshold of his bedroom.

“I was wondering if your offer still stands,” you muttered quietly as heat rose in your cheeks.

“Please.”

There was something in his underlying plea that had your feet moving but you stopped at the edge of the bed. He watched you with patience and ended up pulling you down into the bed next to him. A laugh slipped past you as he pulled you so close into him that there wasn’t an inch separating the both of you. 

“I don’t bite,” he murmured, burying his face into your hair.

“And if I wanted you to?” you countered with a coy smirk.

“That could be arranged.”

A devilish grin spread across his face before he had you on your back and it earned him a quiet laugh. You weren’t sure how long he made love to you and worshiped you in a way that no one ever had before. There were too many ‘I love yous’ passed between the both of you for you to keep up with but it had you feeling complete for the first time in your life.

You had no way to know what time it was or how long that you had slept but when you awoke, Aeden was in the bed and curled up next to Azriel. The sight had your heart fluttering in your chest so you simply laid back down and snuggled up to the pair.

A month felt as if it passed by in a blur. Azriel had waited a week before introducing you and your son to the family, seemingly impatient to teach Aeden how to fly. There were so many mornings that your son sat in your love’s lap while they read and you cooked breakfast. It was a sight that you knew that you would never get tired of seeing. 

It wasn’t until you watched Azriel and Cassian making progress with Aeden after three months did you realize what true happiness was. Cassian was silly and had jokes when it came to helping the boy all while Azriel fretted like a mother hen. Feyre had mentioned once that it looked as if the male saw your son as his own and it was all that you see when you looked at him.

“He’s making really good progress.” 

You glanced beside you to the High Lady as you both prepared the food for the night. A frown fell on your face as you watched Aeden fall out of the air again only to be caught by Azriel. Your son truly had made progress but your heart pounded in your chest each time you watched him make a mistake and start falling quickly towards the ground.

“I’m used to seeing different versions of the males’ training so this is definitely new for me,” you sighed. “I know Az won’t let him get hurt but still.”

“I felt the same with Nyx.”

A smile was shared between the both of you as Elain joined to help finish up the meal. Anticipation and nervousness filled you as it came time for the entire Inner Circle to come together. You had met all of them already, of course, but it felt like a new test with having them all together.

“Ready to eat!” Aedan exclaimed as he ran through the door, covered in dirt with a small scratch on his face.

“Did you let my son fall?” you asked as you looked between Azriel and Cassian.

“I turned my back for one second-”

“He’s fine,” Cassian drawled, laughing hard when his brother elbowed him in the ribs for interrupting him. “Even Feyre took a few tumbles and she’s just fine.”

“That’s different,” you huffed, glancing at your friend in hopes that she would defend you but the female simply smiled.

You shook your head in defeat and ushered your son to his seat between you and Azriel. Aedan adored the shadowsinger and looked up to him in a way that he had never experienced before. At least that was what he had told you during a late night conversation. Conversation flowed easily thanks to the family that made you feel welcomed and loved just as the spymaster had promised. 

“Daddy!” Aeden exclaimed. “Want more!”

Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes went wide when you realized that your son had just called your boyfriend his father. It was unprovoked and something that hadn’t been talked about by any of them. You glanced at Azriel and as your eyes met his, your body went tense and loose all at once at the overwhelming new feeling.

“I was going to tell you,” he whispered gently with caution on his face as the bond sang between you.

All that you could do was grin cheesily at him. At that point and time, it didn’t matter that you hadn’t been informed. All that mattered was that you had found the one that you were made for and on top of that, loved your son unconditionally as well. Rounds of congratulations sounded around the both of you but you couldn’t think straight as your eyes refused to move from the hazel ones two seats across from you.

You had never thought that your life would be this good and you would go through all of the hell and heartbreak again if it meant being where you were now.

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[azrielsdove]

Hi!! I was hoping I could request something for Azriel or Cassian. I saw this post somewhere about someone being super calm and content in prison, maybe she was taken along with the home carver because of her powers. I’m thinking she is kinda like an old god but instead her powers feed off sacrifice and while she doesn’t want that life, she’s too powerful to be free until Feyre/Rhys lets her out because Feyre thinks she won’t hurt anyone. Then she can find her mate with Az or Cass?? And it’s revealed that she hates her powers because the person has to matter to her for the sacrifice/power. and she could’ve been part of the war that Mor fought in and went kinda crazy after because she lost that person but is fine now that it’s been so long.

You can change whatever if you end up doing it, I just thought it was a cool concept. It also does not have to be that detailed lol but thank you if you do it!!

Old God: Cassian x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Some Alcohol

***

“No, Feyre. It’s too dangerous.” Rhys didn’t look up from the paperwork on his desk while he spoke.

“Have you gone down there recently? She is kind, Rhys. You said to not trust the Bone Carver as well, and look how beneficial he was to us!” Feyre was pacing angrily around the room, having formed an attachment to the Death Wielder.

“We were in war, that was a dire situation. You want to release her for no other reason than you think she won’t harm anyone.” Rhys ran a hand over his face, looking up to his mate. “The beings in the Prison are there for a reason, Feyre. We can not go around releasing whoever we please without justification.”

Feyre huffed, crossing her arms and facing her husband. “You should go speak to her, Rhys. Understand what I mean. Amren came from the Prison, did she not?”

“Amren is different.”

“How?!” Feyre did not like arguing with her mate, but something was telling her it was wrong to keep the so-called old god down there. Especially after the war, after the Bone Carver sacrificed himself to fight for them. She knew the Prison held some of the nastiest beings Prythian had to offer, and that trusting any of them was a risk. Yet something was different about this one, she just knew it.

“Amren got herself out of the Prison. You have no idea how powerful the Death Wielder is. She is unlike anything you have ever seen.” Rhys stood from his desk, crossing the room to hold Feyre’s hands in his own. “It is too risky.”

“So if the Death Wielder got herself out, that would be fine?” Feyre shot at him, upset that he wasn’t agreeing with her.

“That’s not what i’m saying.”

“That’s what you’re insinuating! She isn’t what you think. Please, Rhys, just go talk to her.” Feyre pleaded, holding tight onto his hands. He sighed, reaching up to brush a piece of her hair back.

“Alright. I will go tomorrow evening, and if what you say proves true we can further discuss a release.”

***

Rhys did not enjoy coming to the Prison. He especially did not enjoy coming here to meet with you.

Unfortunately, he would do anything to make his mate happy.

He reached the door to your cell, placing his hand on the heavy stone. He breathed in deeply as he stepped forward, walking through the door like it didn’t exist. He looked around the room, shocked at how bright it was.

“High Lord,” you spoke, standing to greet him. “What brings you down?”

Rhys carefully looked at you, watching for any signs of a trick. “The High Lady requests to have you released. Do you know why she would ask such a thing?”

You gave a small smile, having grown quite fond of Feyre. “She visits me rather often, your mate. Brings me things,” you gestured to the faelights above you, the warm pillows and blankets on the floor. “She is different than any other. Full of hurt, yes, but an undying hope runs through her veins.”

“Are you coming to care for her?” The question was an accusation, thinly veiled anger behind his words.

“If you are asking if I plan to sacrifice her to escape, High Lord, then you would be mistaken. You should know better than anyone that I do not revel in my power.” There was an infinite sadness in your voice, an age-old pain.

“How am I to trust you?”

You shrugged. “I wouldn’t expect you to. We saw what happened with the war 500 years ago, what I had to do to save so many. Those kind of choices do not come without consequences, High Lord.”

Rhysand pondered over your words, violet eyes reading every movement you made. “You sacrificed the love of your life to save everyone. That is not something to be frowned upon.”

You gave a sad smile. “Yet here I am, locked in this pit of despair with the worst Prythian has to offer. Do not credit me, High Lord. I was willing to let the world suffer. He convinced me to do it, to use him to activate my power. I did not wish to do so.”

Rhys hummed, seeming to understand the level of devotion you held for your old lover. “I could understand. I would do anything to protect Feyre. Do you understand what I mean?”

You did. He would not allow your release from this prison, not even if you may be a harmless being these days. He would rather you suffer needlessly down here for millennia than risk anything harming his mate.

***

Feyre was angry. No, she was furious. Rhys had informed her that he would not be releasing the Death Wielder, even if he had picked up nothing bad in their meeting. She left his office without speaking, upset that he was being so difficult.

However, Feyre was not so naive as to not think her husband would try to stop her. She had planned for this. After all, he had made her High Lady, his equal. She had every right to make the call herself.

She found Cassian easily, purchasing donuts at one of the bakeries in Velaris. “I need your help.” Feyre was straight to the point, eyeing her friend as he stopped mid-bite.

“Uh, okay?” He said, placing his donuts back into their bag. “With what?”

“I need you to take me to the Prison.”

He laughed.

Feyre scowled, glaring at the General. “I’m being serious, Cassian.” She stood tall, letting power radiate from her. “As your High Lady, I command it.”

His laughter ceased, face growing serious. “As you wish, then.” Cassian knew better than to question her any further.

***

The pair stood outside the gates of the Prison, the ominous darkness beckoning them in. “May I ask who we are here to see?” Cassian pried, wanting to be prepared for what they would encounter.

“The Death Wielder.” Feyre didn’t give him a chance to protest, marching down into the endless dark. Cassian followed dutifully, wondering why his High Lady was so determined to meet with her. Feyre pushed in without hesitation when they reached the door to her cell. Cassian went after, growing more curious by the second.

“High Lady,” you greeted, welcoming the female you almost considered a friend. Not that many had ever gotten close enough to you for such a title. Feyre greeted you by your name, something very few had ever called you. “The High Lord was here as well, i’m sure you know.”

You could feel the simmer of displeasure come from the High Lady. “Yes. I’ve chosen to disregard his opinion on this matter. I do not think it is right to keep you down here.”

You gave a soft smile, lightly surveying the room that had caged you for so long. “Ah, but this is my home now, isn’t it? Where I came from has long been gone, anyone I ever knew with it. What else is there for me? It is no harm to keep me here, truly.”

Feyre huffed, seemingly having an argument in her head. “I will never force you to leave, you know that. I simply believe there is more for you out there, out in my home.”

You moved closer to the young female, inspired by her endless hope for all that is good. “Who is to say your people would allow me to walk among them? The old gods are not favored in your time, especially not one who’s known for Death.” It was then that you noticed her companion, the long haired male standing in the shadows. You cocked your head, surveying him curiously. Something about him was…different than any others you had met.

“This is Cassian,” Feyre introduced, waving him forward. He came into the light, nodding his head to you.

“Cassian,” you mused, tasting the name on your tongue. You observed his armor, his wings, the strong power radiating from him. “The General. How do you feel about your High Lady’s idea?”

He seemed shocked that you would ask for his opinion, looking carefully between you and Feyre. “I trust what my High Lady thinks best.”

“The diplomatic answer,” you hummed, moving to look at him closer. “That is not what I asked. What would you, as an innocent in this world, think of someone like me wandering through your city?”

He blinked at you before clearing his throat. “I would not consider myself an innocent. If the High Lady deemed you safe, I would trust her. As would many in this court.”

You waved your hand dismissively. “You are all innocents to me.” You turned back to Feyre, a smile ghosting your lips. “Very well, High Lady. If you deem it fit, I will accept the release you are granting me.”

***

You stood with the General on the outskirts of Velaris, feeling uncomfortable for the first time in a long time. You had grown content in the Prison, safe from your power. Your deadly, terrible power.

“What would you like to do?” He was watching you, hand on one of his many blades. You felt vulnerable by that action, a reminder that you will always be perceived as Death herself.

“I do not know.” Your voice was quiet, a weakness pulling through that you did not enjoy. You were easily the most powerful being here, there was no reason to feel so small. Cassian noticed the change in you, the contrast from the ancient confidence he encountered in the Prison.

“Hey,” he soothed, releasing the hold on his weapons, “no one has to know who you are.” You wanted to give him a thankful smile, but the darkness in your mind was clouding around you.

“No,” you whispered, “they’ll know. Perhaps this was a mistake.” You turned to face the mountains behind you, feeling the dirt beneath your feet. It had been so long since you had seen the outside, since the fresh air had touched your skin. You startled when you felt gentle fingers around your wrist, whipping your head around to meet the kind eyes of the General.

“Come with me. My own friend Amren is like you, and she lives here happily.” There was a calm in his voice that washed away any apprehension you felt, something about him making you feel like you could trust what he said. “Stay with me.”

Your heart ticked at his words as he pulled you down to the glittering city below.

***

You had spent a few weeks with Cassian, learning all Velaris had to offer. The High Lord had come to find the two of you early on, angry that you allowed his wife to set you free.

“She is the High Lady, her word is as equal as yours, is it not?” You had asked, pointing out his hypocrisy. He had grumbled at your words, but allowed you to continue on.

“As long as you are with Cassian, I will accept that you roam free. Do not make me regret this,” he had threatened, still not trusting you.

You couldn’t blame him.

You knew he had an underlying fear that you were growing too close to Feyre, that you may grow close to Cassian. You didn’t know how to explain that you would never use them to activate your power, that you would never allow anyone to become that special to you again.

Unfortunately, you were growing worried yourself. Cassian drew you into him, a simmering desire to learn everything there was to know about the male. His stories captivated you, his jokes made you laugh in ways you never had. He pulled out the true version of you, the being beneath the danger.

You needed to stop this.

Cassian had a little cabin on the edge of the city, a cozy place he had leant to you. He stayed with you most nights, sleeping on the couch while you took the bed. You knew it was due to his High Lord commanding it, but a part of you wished he was staying for you. That he enjoyed being around you as much as you did around him.

“We are going out tonight,” he informed you, tossing a dress onto the bed. You looked up at him in shock, unsure if he was joking or not. “It is time you let loose a little, enjoy yourself.” There was a teasing smile on his lips, a brightness in his eyes. You pulled the blood-red fabric to you, fingers trailing over the delicate fabric. You had never ‘gone out.’

“I don’t,” you started, looking up to him, “I’ve never, I, what if I embarrass you?” You tripped over your words, heat rising in your cheeks.

He gave a reassuring, slightly cocky smile. “You can’t be any worse than Az, trust me.”

***

You were nervous standing outside Rita’s, a cold intruder on a warm night. You hadn’t yet been around so many fae in such a tight setting, the worry that they would notice who you were drowning your mind. You tugged the bottom of your dress down a little, fidgeting with the hem. “Stop,” Cassian chided, grabbing your hand in his. “It’s going to be fine.”

He dragged you up the steps into the bustling bar, making his way through the crowd to a table in the back. His friends were all there, the High Lords stare cold as he noticed your hand in Cassian’s. You quickly pulled away from him, ignoring the look he sent you. He slid into the booth and you sat next to him, careful to keep your distance.

“Drinks?” The stunning blonde you immediately recognized asked, a knowing look in her eyes.

“She needs something strong, Mor.” Cassian answered for you, a laugh in his voice. You nodded in confirmation to the Morrigan, the sight of her bringing up memories of the war all those centuries ago. You were going to need several strong drinks.

“So, Death Wielder, how have you enjoyed your time in my court?” Rhysand asked, your title coming out like an insult.

“It is a very beautiful place, High Lord,” you answered honestly, having grown to quite enjoy the city.

“Hmm.” He leaned across the table, hands clasping in front of him. “And how have you been enjoying my brother?” You looked at him with wide eyes, taken aback by his accusation.

“That’s quite enough, Rhys. We are here to have a nice night, not interrogate our guests.” Feyre cut in, shooting you an apologetic look. Rhys mumbled something about not trusting you as he sat back in his seat.

Cassians hand found your knee, thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin. “Don’t listen to him,” he said, loud enough for High Lord to hear. “He doesn’t think I can handle myself around you.”

You flushed at his words, feelings running through you that you hadn’t felt in centuries. You were thankful that Mor chose that moment to return, gladly taking your drink from her. You busied yourself with it, allowing normal conversation to resume around the table.

Cassian did not move his hand.

You were feeling a pleasant buzz from the drink, a state of relaxation coming over you. You found yourself giggling at something Cassian said, leaning further into him. He smiled back at you, his hand sliding a little higher as your dress began to ride up. For the first time in 500 years, you were able to feel a sense of happiness.

“Better be careful, General,” came a slurring voice, all eyes turning to the fae that had approached the table. “Death here will be quick to sacrifice you next. You should know better than anyone that she lures her lovers into traps, killing them to make her power stronger.” You froze in place, terror spreading through your body.

Cassian moved the hand from your knee, a split-second heartbreak occurring inside you before you felt his arm wrap around your shoulders. “Maybe you shouldn’t speak on what you don’t know.” His voice was hard, causing the other male to take a step back. “Do you wish to continue telling me about things that you think I, General of the Night Court Armies, do not already know? Do you truly believe you know more than me?” The male slunk back, angry and embarrassed.

“Don’t say we didn’t try to warn you.” He shot out before disappearing into the crowd, leaving a thick silence over the group. You took the opportunity to slide out of the booth, taking off for the door. You heard a faint call of your name, along with Rhysand calling his brother back to the table. You pushed out of the building, sucking in deep mouthfuls of air. A horrible choking sensation was taking over your throat and lungs, a full panic controlling your body. You stumbled down the street, blind to the concerned expressions of the passerby.

You needed to go. You couldn’t stay here any longer, you couldn’t risk Rhysand putting you back in the Prison now that you knew free life again. You ripped the heels off your feet, discarding them where they landed. You began running, bare feet slapping the pavement below. You felt the skin tear as you ran, too soft for the rough ground.

You didn’t care.

You ran all the way to the cabin, lungs burning. You grabbed your few meager possessions, mostly clothes Cassian had bought you. You stuffed them into a small bag, not noticing the tears running down your face until they splashed onto the fabric. When was the last time you cried?

Loud, shaking sobs overtook your body. You sunk to the ground by the bed, curling your arms around your knees and burying your head. How could you be so stupid? You knew better than to fall for him, for anyone. You cursed yourself, the crushing weight of despair becoming too much to handle. You felt tendrils of your power come out, wrapping themselves around your skin. It burned where they touched, an anguished scream tearing from you.

A voice was yelling your name, holding tight to your arms. You cried harder, certain that the burning of your power must be hurting them too. “Leave me!” You screamed, the pain of the last 500 years ripping from your body. The voice calling for you was growing hectic, desperate. You couldn’t focus on anything except the tendrils of power on you, certain they were melting the skin off your bones.

You felt arms cradle your body, lifting you off the ground. You knew you were suddenly outside, a sensation like flying taking over. The wind was harsh against you, a welcome cold to the burning power suffocating you. You felt a jolt as whoever was carrying you hit the ground, more voices joining in the chaos. You heard one stick out above the rest, and then an endless darkness took over your mind.

***

Your head was heavy, your body was sore, and your throat was terribly dry. You pried your eyes open, wincing at the daylight flooding the room. You blinked a few times, looking around at what you could see. You didn’t recognize anything about the bedroom, but you did know the large male passed out in the chair next to the bed.

Cassian.

He shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be here. You needed to get out, get away from him. You forced yourself up, crying out in pain as you did. He shot up out of the chair and was at your side in a second. “No, lay back down,” he commanded, pushing you down gently.

“I need to go,” you croaked out, voice hoarse.

“Why do you think that?” He asked, looking at you like he already knew the answer.

You felt tears prick the corner of your eyes. “I don’t want to put you in danger.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. “Never,” he whispered into your hair, “will you hurt me.”

You couldn’t help the tears spilling out as you clutched onto his arms, wanting to stay here forever. “I killed him,” you sobbed, holding tighter onto Cassian.

“You didn’t,” he argued, “he sacrificed himself. For you, for all of Prythian and beyond. If we had lost that war, none of us would be here. He knew you didn’t want to do it, that you wouldn’t do it. He made that choice, not you.” You cried, shaking in his arms at the memory of your past love. He had been your heart, your soul. You will never forget the pain and anguish that came from losing him, all so you could use your power to its full extent.

A curse, your power was. Only able to be used if someone you loved died. Died for the sake of the power. You despised it, you despised the title it had earned you. Death Wielder. You had never wanted to be that, to become a horror story. To be classified as an ‘old god’, a force to be reckoned with. You had been a gentle spirit before the discovery of your power, before you were told how to use it.

You shook your head. “I won’t risk it, Cass. What if war comes again?”

“If it does, you will be better trained. Rhys has been doing some research while you were out, talking to some of the other High Lords. They believe your power is misunderstood.” You stilled, pulling back to look at him.

“Misunderstood?”

He nodded. “He believes you can access it without a sacrifice. With the way it was acting when I found you that night, I think he may be right.”

You remembered the horrible pain of your power then, looking down at your arms. You were surprised to see they were bare, no damage from the force of whatever you released. “It hurt me,” you said slowly, eyes moving back up to Cassian’s.

“He believes with proper training it won’t hurt. All we can do is try.” He raised a hand to your face, thumb brushing away the remaining tears. “I don’t think I can live without you.” Your breath caught at the honesty in his words.

“I don’t think I can live without you either,” you said, voice barely a whisper. His gaze flicked from your eyes to your lips, a heavy tension growing in the air.

“Please, may I kiss you?” He asked, voice soft.

You nodded.

He leaned down, cupping your face as his lips touched yours. The kiss was slow, hesitant. You hadn’t kissed anyone in over five centuries, certain you would be abysmal. Cassian lead you perfectly, bringing your head up to create a better angle. You sighed softly, lips parting just enough for his tongue to delve in. He took his time learning every inch he could reach, kissing you breathless and then some.

You pulled apart, gasping for air. Your eyes caught his blow-out ones, and a string of gold erupted between the two of you. Mate, mate, mate, sang around your head, everything except Cassian disappearing. You could tell he felt it too, hands tightening on you. He came closer again, lightly kissing your lips.

“Mine, aren’t you?” He said. You smiled, a real, true smile. You kissed him again, hands sliding under his shirt, needing to touch him.

“Yours, always.”

***

I hope I was able to pull off what you wanted!! It took me a while to figure out how to write this. Please let me know what you think <3

[mcuamerica]

The Shadowsinger: Five

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. Angst, implied SA, Tamlin and Amarantha are mentioned, ACOTAR series spoilers. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairings: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel’s off on a mission, so you train with Cassian. Upon returning, the Spymaster doesn’t like seeing you with his brother.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters or plot lines, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

Series Masterlist

Prologue - One - Two - Three - Four

The next morning, you were up early but no one was there for breakfast with you. And instead of Azriel, Cassian was in the training ring. “Oh… is Azriel not here today?” You asked.

“He’s got some spying to do, so I’ll keep up with your training.” He said.

Of course Azriel wouldn’t want to keep training you along with his spying. He had so many more important things to do than babysit an amateur Shadowsinger. And it was very apparent from the training session yesterday that you didn’t know nearly as much as him.

“You ready? Or do you need to stare off into the distance for a little longer?” Cassian said and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“I’m ready, Commander.” You teased, getting in the position he started with the warm ups.

Cassian was more brutal than Azriel was, enough so that you were thinking Azriel was going easy on you. The prick. Cass made you sit in squats for longer, balance with your wings stretched out or tucked in more. It was all you could do by the end of it to not fall down the stairs to the House.

“Az said to give you these.” Cassian said and handed you a basket, your muscles groaning at the extra weight. “Said something about an owing you a massage when he got back.”

Your eyes widened and face flushed before you heard Cassian let out a loud chuckle. “You’re almost as bad as him.” He said and laughed. “For spies, you sure don’t hold back when you get embarrassed.” Cass said and winked at you before going to the dining room.

You set the basket in your room, opting to take a bath first before you went to the dining room to dig into the roast that was waiting for you. Then, you went to the library to start on your research into the Cauldron.

You never saw Gwyn. Though Rhys told you that the new priestesses normally took a while to adjust before being out of their dorms. What happened to her just yesterday made your stomach turn… and you couldn’t imagine how horrible it must have been for her to wake up today in a new place. You’d have to ask Clotho how she was doing when you got the chance.

You didn’t learn anything new about the Cauldron, but you brought more books up to the personal library to read more.

You still wondered how Feyre was doing with Tamlin. You remember when Rhys told you the story of what Tamlin’s family did to Rhys’s mother and sister. And how Tamlin himself had killed Rhys’s father. Hearing about the rage that Tamlin held that day… you’d hope it had changed. You’d hoped that Feyre was happy with him, and that he would treat her well. Still, the thought of Feyre with him was unsettling to you. You couldn’t figure it out, and your shadows seemed to be just as disturbed by it whenever it came to your mind.

As you read into the night, waiting to see if you heard Azriel come back, you couldn’t help as your mind wander to how lucky you were that you ended up here after Amarantha died. How you found friends that seemed to care about you, and a High Lord that didn’t just want to use you for his own bidding, but wanted you around because he trusted you. You could get used to calling Velaris, in all its beauty, your home. And these new friends your family.

Azriel didn’t come back to the House of Wind for two weeks. Cassian had taken up your training, and you were already learning how to handle a sword (with the wooden practice ones) when Azriel watched you both from the steps.

He had been searching for the other parts of the Cauldron, ordering his spies to find out anything they could about what Hybern planned to do with it. And he only figured out that Hybern had Jurian’s eye and finger bone. Someone had snuck it off of Amarantha’s body before Tamlin killed her. He still couldn’t find out how, or who.

Seeing you work with Cassian strained something in him. A desire to be around you, or the jealousy that Cass was training you and he wasn’t. Azriel couldn’t tell what it was. Either way, he was almost proud to see you doing so well. What took most young Illyrian’s years to master, you had seem to do it in two weeks. All while taking flying lessons with Cassian as well. Cass told him that you were doing great with all of it. Better than any male he’s trained, actually. And you took it in stride too. Doing everything that Cassian threw at you. He even loaded a pack on your chest two days ago and had you fly up and down the mountain for two hours. You were almost ready to throw the pack at him by the end of it. But you knew it was to build up your strength. If you were going to be carrying Illyrian blades and a bow, you would need it.

Azriel knew you could do good. From the moment you agreed to train, he knew you had the motivation in you to do it. Whether it be from hate of what your family did to you, or from dedication to not let it happen again, he knew you would do it. He wanted to be the one to train you. He wanted to see that dedication every day. He hadn't seen an Illyrian learn so fast in a long time, and he knew it was a testament to an underlying power that brewed within you. That his shadows whispered to him about.

And yet, he took the first mission Rhys offered. There was something about you that pulled his attention every time you were in the room. And he couldn’t place it. His shadows wouldn’t tell him anything. And your few shadows that danced around his ankles up to his hands and neck whenever he was close to you drove him crazy. It’s like he couldn’t get enough of you but also didn’t want to get too close. He couldn’t handle getting close and you pushing him away. Or going for another male like Rhys or Cass. Like Mor had done when she chose Cassian over him. And then never acknowledged him more than a close friend. Family. Nothing like he wanted. He may have given up on her a long time ago, but sometimes it still stung.

So he took the mission to keep his distance. No matter the tug he felt when he was around you. He fought it. And kept his thoughts and emotions about you to himself.

“Azriel!” He heard your voice say, followed by a yelp when Cassian hit your stomach with the butt of the sword.

“Really, Cass?” You growled and nudged him away before jogging over to Azriel. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. Where have you been?” You asked, catching your breath.

“We’re not done!” Cassian yelled at you, but you simply stared at Azriel, waiting for an answer.

All Azriel could do was trail his eyes up the leathers you were wearing. The way they clung to your curves. The way they were already filled out much more than they were that first training day. Your hair was in a braid, but little wisps if it were out, clinging to your forehead with sweat.

“Azriel?” You asked again, not shifting under his stare like you had before. Training like this with Cassian had made you much more confident. Like you were before Amarantha came and tore your life apart. You still didn’t want to admit how much those 50 years effected you. Even if they were still recent. You wanted to put them in the past and not think about them any more that you were required. And luckily, no one had asked you much after the first day of telling them your story.

Cassian bounded over, patted Azriel on the shoulder in a way of greeting, and then picked you up over his shoulder.

“Cassian!” You yelled and clenched your fists. “Put me down,” you ground out.

“No chance, you are still training. And no pretty boy is going to distract you. Got it?” He asked and you grumbled. “Got it?” He asked again.

“Yes! Cauldron… Now put me down before I start clawing your wings.” You said firmly. He set you down back in the middle of the training ring and handed you the sword you discarded.

“What’s the number one rule I taught you about your weapon?” He asked.

“The pointy end goes away from you?” You remarked, earning a swipe of his own sword, which you blocked. “Don’t drop it in the middle of a fight without a purpose.” You said and knocked his sword back.

Azriel watched as you bantered with Cassian almost as seamlessly as you fought. At one point, you had Cassian so speechless and stunned that you were able to knock his sword from his hand. It was at that point that Cassian knocked you from your feet, your sword clattering much farther away from you than his. Cass always did want to be the one to win the battle.

It was everything Azriel could do to not go and help you out. Or coach you on how to get out from under him. Especially since Cassian was much larger than you. Not to mention better trained.

He must have been feeling generous, or you got the drop on him (probably the former) because you were able to use his weight against him and flip the two of you over so you were on top. Straddling his hips, your hands mere inches from the tips of his wings. Panting.

“Rhys wants us in the dining room for lunch.” Azriel called out, knowing that Rhys would wait. And if he really wanted you all to meet, he could speak mind-to-mind easily. But Azriel couldn’t stand to see you in that position with Cassian. And he couldn’t stop himself for imagining him under you instead. He quickly turned on his heel and vanished with his shadows back to his room.

“Just when it was getting fun.” You joked as you stood up and held out a hand for Cassian, who let out a booming laugh.

“Keep saying things like that and Az might slice me to bloody ribbons.” He joked and you shrugged.

“I doubt it. He doesn’t seem too interested in me.” You said as you grabbed a glass of water and downed it. “And if he is, he sure has a weird way of showing it. He ignored me the whole first month, trained me one day, and then disappeared on a two week mission. And he’s still ignoring me.” You muttered and downed another glass of water.

“Hmm… let’s show him what he’s missing, then,” Cass said and slung an arm around your shoulder, avoiding your wings. Your shadows curled away slightly from his touch. Not in a bad way, but in a way that didn’t happen with Azriel. They always curled around him. Even if he wasn’t touching you, but in the same room. You always tacked it up to him being a Shadowsinger himself, and maybe it was comforting for your shadows to have someone else to cling to. You still barely knew how the things worked. Even after having them around for a hundred years.

You knew how to hide in them, how to listen and talk to them, how to winnow with them. But not much else. It was still a hassle most of the time when you wanted to control them. So if a few of your shadows wanted a more experienced singer to cling to, you were more than willing to let them. For a little while. You still liked your shadows. If you ever had to go without them, you wouldn’t know what to do. Wouldn’t have the comforting feel of them whirling your ankles and wings. Throughout your hair.

“Come out with us tonight.” Cassian said once you made it down the stairs.

You looked up at his towering form and rose your eyebrows. “Where?” You asked. Even the first month of you here, you didn’t go out with them. You didn’t go into the city much either, barely even visited the town home. You didn’t want to impose on it just yet. And it was too many people who would be watching your every move. Like they did when you worked for her. So you stayed in the House. And you liked it. Plus, you started to see Gywn around the library, not speaking to anyone, but at least she was out of her dorm.

“To Rita’s. I know Mor would love it. She’s been complaining that you didn’t come last week.” He said and you smiled a bit. You quite liked the female. She was bright and full of energy. And she didn’t take shit from the boys. And barely took it from Amren, who still scared you enough to not meet her eye.

“I don’t have much to wear.” You said, Cassian cringing as you both heard a yelp from down the stairs to the dining room.

“Did I hear that we’re going shopping?” Mor said and bounded over to the bottom of the stairs, bouncing on her heels.

“I didn’t say that.” You teased as you stepped down beside her.

“Oh, please? I’ll help you pick out the perfect outfit.” She said and nudged you. You winced a bit, still sore from the training. Your braid was still a mess. But you didn’t care, you were starving and just wanted to eat. Even if you looked ridiculous.

As if reading your thoughts, your shadows swirled around your head, either covering or smoothing your hair, you couldn’t tell. Either way, you silently thanked them.

“Hmm.. fine. But I would prefer to go when it’s not too crowded…” you said and she gave you a knowing look. As if she too knew what it was like to want to hide away. You weren’t sure how she would ever feel like that. You figured she got more energy from being around people, new people, than anyone else. Where as for you… well you learned to like your solitude. Probably from the years you spent locked in your cabin while your family went to train. And then the years following that was spent in a village with no more than 50 inhabitants.

“So you’ll come out with us tonight?” Cassian asked as you entered the dining room with them.

Shrugging again, you answered, “Sure. Though if people start asking me to do party tricks with my shadows, I’m leaving.” You said and rolled your shoulders back, tucking in your wings.

“Trust us, they won’t. Not when Az is the only Shadowsinger they knew and he once stabbed someone for looking at him the wrong way.” Mor joked and you furrowed your eyebrows. Even though Azriel was a little cold to you, you could tell he was kind. Especially with the way this family acted with him.

“He was 38 and we were recovering from the war, remember?” Rhys added from his spot at the table. “And that was in Hewn. Everyone in Hewn would be stabbed if they looked at Az the way that male did.” He mentioned and then leaned back. He didn’t have his wings out today, so you figured this was a business lunch more than a formal one. They had all mainly been away, or you’d been I’m your room burying your nose in the books on the Cauldron. Or they had been meeting in the town home. Definitely not around you.

Soon you were all settled, Azriel appearing before the meal was served and sitting next to Rhys and Amren. Cassian was on your right, and Mor on your left. That left the other three across from you. It felt like someone was missing from the table, but as you counted around, you knew that was everyone.

After you had all ate a couple bites (Amren pushing her food around like always), Rhys looked up, setting his utensils down. “Cassian, I need you to go to Windhaven.” Rhys said. “See how the army is coming along. And if the females are being trained properly.” He said, then looked at you. “And I would prefer if you went along.” He said.

“Just with Cassian? Don’t you need to introduce me as emissary?” You asked and Rhys shook his head.

“Cass is the commander of my armies. If he says they’re to listen to you, they will.” Rhys said and you rose your eyebrows. You knew Illyrians. And you knew that wasn’t true. You also knew that Rhys knew it too. But you weren’t going to push, so you nodded.

“How long do you want me there?” Cassian asked.

“Two weeks, and then you can come back in time for the Solstice.” He said. “We’ll spend it in the townhome.”

“You think Devlon is ready for another Shadowsinger?” Azriel piped in.

“The question is, do you think Devlon is ready for the first female Shadowsinger?” Cassian asked.

You hummed. “I think you all need to be asking if Devlon is ready for me. I’m not just a Shadowsinger, you know.” You said, crossing your arms. “And I think the answer is no. Devlon used to be a friend of my father’s. He very might well faint when he recognizes me to be the daughter of Rechard Vash.” You stated and smirked.

“I like how you think, girl.” Amren said and leaned back in her chair, her arm draped over the arm of it. “I say Devlon has whatever is coming to him from her,” she said as she looked at Rhys.

He only chuckled as he went back to eating. “Was that it?” You asked and leaned forward. “Or should I leave so you can discuss what Azriel learned on that mission?” You asked.

None of them stiffened at your tone, or the implication that they didn’t trust you.

“I merely wanted to finish my food,” Rhys said with an easy smile. “But if you’re eager to learn about what the Spymaster learned, go ahead Az.” He said and took another bite of the roast.

“I didn’t learn anything useful,” Azriel said. “Well, other than that there are two pieces of the Cauldron missing and I still have no clue where the third one is. Though, it’s probably in a temple.” He said. “Hopefully here. If it’s in another Court… that’ll be harder to detect.” He finished.

“I never thought you’d be one to be down on yourself,” you said, taking a bite of vegetables. “Sounds like you learned quite a lot.”

Once again, he ignored you and looked at Rhys. “Any chance I can go back to Sangravagh and examine it again?” He asked and Rhys waved his hand. “Go where you need to, but I still have one more thing to ask of you when we’re done with lunch.” He said.

As much as you wanted to slump into your chair, you stayed still as you ate. You didn’t know what you did wrong to have Azriel act so indifferent towards you. Of all the Inner Circle, you thought you would bond with him the most. Being a Shadowsinger… it wasn’t easy. It was rare and the looks that you got. The burdens that you had to carry. You figured only he would understand. But he didn’t even try to speak to you.

And it continued into the night, after you went shopping with Mor. She even had Rhys’s in-house tailor fix all the clothing so your wings would fit seamlessly around them. All in time to go to Rita’s.

A/N: This is a fun little chapter with some of Az’s pov - a little longer than the rest. When the IC + our reader goes to Rita's in the next chapter... I think you'll enjoy it!!

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[sad-scarred-sassy]

So yesterday I saw one E/riel post (I have them filtered out but somehow that one slipped my ward) and it was about how Nesta somehow knows Azriel is “in love” with Elain because she tells him she knows why he doesn’t go near the fireplace in ACOSF.

When literally who is described to be near the fireplace?

Now. I know Azriel was actually referring to Elain and Lucien’s mating bond (and we will come back to that in a second) but Nesta doesn’t know that, she has no way of knowing he feels that way towards the bond. Not even his own brothers know until Rhys catches him having those horny thoughts about Elain and almost kissing her.

And Azriel never talks about Mor, thats why she says his secret, not because its actually a secret. But I know that even though Nesta may not be aware, I agree that this could be a wink at his bonus chapter that is set to happen that same night.

So I wanna thank the elriel creator for making me read this scene because I think it ties up with what I believe about Azriel’s problem with Lucien.

(And also, I love how Azriel says the flame 🔥 and we know he is referring to the bond between Elain and Lucien. Is this foreshadowing of what we will get with Elucien? I will bet 😙)

The “fire” is mentioned a lot here as being what he cannot stand. Azriel mentions it explicitly saying “My shadows don’t like the flames” and my mind was blown. This symbolism just screams to me as a foreshadow of how they may behave in the future, but it also confirms to me how the fire is representing Elain’s bond with Lucien, as we know this is what is actually keeping him away in this setting. But the bond is not exactly the problem, at least not the whole problem.

I believe Azriel’s problem with the Elucien bond comes from his insecurity around Lucien taking his “place”, its not about Elain at all.

He does not understand why his two brothers got their mates and “the third” did not naturally go to him. This in itself is separating him from Rhys and Cassian.

Azriel is feeling like he’s being replaced in his own home and even in his duties. Lucien is somehow fitting in with the IC (more than before at least) and Azriel is threatened.

What little we know about Az is that he needs to feel needed, his self worth comes from being the savior, the protector. We see this time and time again and it is worsened by how he sees Elain as someone to be protected all the time. We see him suddenly wanting to be the one who protects her when he notices Lucien worrying about her in ACOWAR and he shuts him off.

He is undeniably loyal to his duties and needs to feel seen as a useful member of his court as well. Lucien is in his eyes also taking that away from him by being their direct connection to the human lands and a big part of Prythian, playing the spymaster and emissary, bringing crucial information, something that once was entirely Azriel’s job.

And now he also goes along with his family. He’s even got what Az has always wanted, he was given his bond. So of course he is channeling this threat into his mating bond with Elain, the only thing Azriel still holds over Lucien.

I think all the clues are there, and the way Azriel’s whole focus is on the mating bond and not actually Elain.

He even thinks about how she gifted him two things and nothing to Lucien, to her mate. He doesn’t think about how it made him feel beyond the arrogance that he is the object of her affections and not her own mate.

He is using Elain as his last straw at validation, if Elain is choosing to give him gifts and not Lucien, then he hasn’t taken everything away from him, if she wants to kiss him instead of her mate, then he may be worthy still.

So, my point here can be summarized to this:

“My shadows dont like the flames so much”

Shadows = Himself.

Flames = Lucien.

This jealousy is actually his secret, not Elain, not Mor.

Yes, he is referring to the bond, but his problem is actually with Lucien. The symbols are there.

“the flame, the surprising dominance within it” - Cassian speaking about Lucien’s inner power.

Anyway I’m convinced Azriel is not in love with Elain, but he is threatened by the flaming hot red head with one eye and broad shoulders that happens to be her mate, and I can’t blame him.

[tadpolesonalgae]

His (Mine.) - Azriel x reader

A/N: anyone remember Filthy Mongrel? Well, this is the beginning of it all! Haha, I totally haven’t been fantasising about this dynamic for the past seven months (for the love of god, don’t embarrass me by figuring out how long this has been in my drafts)

Warnings: reader being bit of a dick to Azzie, swearing, Lord Devlon, only child writing siblings

“What?”

Your father’s brow dipped, lip curling at your tone, but chose to ignore it in favour of being rid of you as quickly as possible, “you know what the rules are.”

“You’re the one set against females learning to fight in the first place. Why am I being punished for not turning up to those lessons?” You seethed, hands clenched at your sides. “Be ready for tomorrow morning.” His tone made it clear that in his mind, the conversation was finished.

“No way,” you felt your temperature drop, surely as the blood drained from your face, “you’re actually expecting me to go along with this?” His brow remained dipped in distain at your unwelcome outburst. You huffed an empty laugh, “you want me to train with that dog?”

“That’s the end of the conversation.”

“Father—”

“Enough.”

You swallowed at the tone. He was serious.

“Out.”

You moved to open your mouth, but he stood from behind his desk. How pretentious was that? Calling your own daughter all the way into your office, that was in a whole other structure to your home. Still, you gritted your teeth, “have you no concern for your daughter? None?” His face was hard, but he wasn’t flaring his wings as a sign of warning so that was something. “You’d throw me to that beast over some small missteps?”

“Edvard will escort you to and from training, outside his own lessons,” was all your father replied with.

“But he trains for so much longer than I do. There will be hours of unmonitored time between the end of my session and his,” you pushed, heart beat raising slightly at the thought. “You should have thought about that before you failed to show up for the past three months.”

Your lips pursed.

“Now,” he spoke, returning to his chair, “do not cause me any more grief.” Frustration bubbled beneath your skin alongside an unhealthy dose of fear. Your lip curled as you left with a hardly concealed snarl in your father’s direction, storming out of his room only to run into a male body.

You reeled back in surprise, eyes narrowing as they met their mirror. “Evesdropping, twat bag?” Edvard gave you a guilty half-grin, “maybe.” Your lip curled at your brother, just a few inches above you now. “Did you know about it?” The smile dropped as he shook his head, his dark brown hair shifting tones in the limited light of your house, “dad told me that I should be up early and ready for tomorrow morning, but didn’t say what for.”

Both your eyes flickered to his office door, voices dropping below whispers, “so why are you here then? Surely not come all this way to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong?” He held up his hands innocently, “why do you think so little of me, dear sister,” he mocked. “I think so little of you, because you’re my twin, beloved brother,” you snapped back. A grin tipped the corners of his mouth, spark in his eyes, “you mean because you would do the exact same thing I’ve just done?”

There was a pause.

“Cunt,” you muttered under your breath, looking away.

Ed lowered his hands from where he’d be holding them in surrender, “come on, let’s go back. Have some food,” he suggested, turning and flaring a wing to wrap behind you and pull you along, “I’m starving.”

“Pig.”

“Growing male, actually.” He snapped back, shoving you forward before tucking his wing behind him. You rolled your eyes, descending the staircase with him padding quietly at your feet. “What we thinking tonight?” You jumped the last three steps, Ed hesitating two behind you before leaping to the floor.

“Soup?” He suggested, brows raised in question. You scrunched your nose. “Takes a while. Not sure if we have any onions in.” Ed scrunched his own nose, “I hate onions.” Both of you continued down the hallway, “probably good for you, then.” Ed raised a brow. “Because you hate them. Must mean they’re healthy.” His lip curled, “curse you, nature.” You stifled a laugh that came out as a snort. “Pig,” he muttered. “Dick,” you spat in return.

You reached for the front door handle, about to leave when it twisted on its own. You frowned before leaping backwards, dodging a smack to the forehead, stumbling backward into Ed who released a surprised yelp. The door swung open, a tall, well-built male striding through, casting a single glance over the two of you, affording a short nod of acknowledgement to your twin who straightened behind you.

“Dickhead,” you mumbled under your breath, the male continuing on his path down the hallway, catching the door and stomping out. You turned when Ed didn’t follow you out, turning in the entrance. He was staring after the male, watching as he disappeared down the corridor. “Ed,” you hissed, swatting him on the arm. He blinked, turning his head to you, a brow risen in confusion. You bulged your eyes in reply, hitching up your eyes brows. His own brow furrowed. “Stop eye-fucking the General,” you hissed. Edvard narrowed his eyes at you, scowling, “I wasn’t eye-fucking anyone,” he snapped, storming out of the doorway, you scowling right behind him.

He was striding intentionally faster, forcing you to speed up. “Slow down,” you snapped, managing to keep in pace with him, “what’s got your panties in a twist?” He refused to deign you with an answer, moving faster than before. You stopped, fists curling by your sides as your breath came out in fogged puffs, “Edvard!” He didn’t stop or slow down. Smoke practically poured from between your gritted teeth as you broke into a run, sprinting at him as your arms encased his lower waist, slamming into him at full speed, both of you collapsing to the ground.

Edvard snarled as he went down, both of you scrambling from the ground. You pulled yourself up over him as he turned onto his back with difficultly, his hands shoving at your shoulders as you were flung backwards, his legs tucking up beneath you then slamming into your hip bones, making sure to avoid your stomach. You were launched backward in the snow, stumbling and tripping over yourself until you smacked against the ground, landing on your wings with a pained hiss.

White spots tipped your vision as you pushed up onto your elbows too quickly, attempting to relive the pressure on your wings. When everything came back into focus, Edvard was stood over you, arms crossed, scowling. You snarled at him, hurrying to your feet, wobbling a little as dizziness momentarily swayed you, “what’s your problem?”

“No, what’s your problem?” He snapped, wings flaring behind him. Your brow narrowed at him. He huffed a curt sigh, “I’m not arguing with you here.” He turned on his foot, aiming for your house. “Fine,” you snapped, storming after him, making sure to shove into him as you passed, a snarl following shortly after.

————————

Weak sunlight filtered through your window, making you squeeze your eyes closed. Sighing, you swung your legs over the side of the large bed, “Ed,” you mumbled drowsily, “wake up.” A low groan came from behind you and you felt it as he turned onto his side, pulling a pillow over his face. You leaned back, snatching the pillow away, “come on.”

Reluctantly, you made your way down stairs, having grabbed a warm robe to wrap yourself in as you turned to the fireplace. The fire was promptly lit, pouring the last of the water into the kettle before placing in on the flat surface above the roaring fire. From above came the heavy steps of your brother fetching the wooden pole he would string over his shoulders to carry the morning’s water inside.

Around two and a half hours later - according to the sundial in the centre of the settlement - you and your twin were both washed, dressed and fed. Anxious taps reverberated from beneath the table where your heel was repeatedly patting the floorboards. “This is the worst,” you groaned, slumping forward, forehead pressing into the table too. Ed yawned loudly, propping his cheek on his hand as he tried to keep his eyes open. “How much longer?”

“That’s the seventh time you’ve asked me since we finished the washing up,” he grumbled, dutifully raising from his sitting position to peer out the window, checking the sundial, “‘nother ten minutes?” You sighed heavily, groaning into the wood.

Edvard returned to the table, slumping back into the hard chair, “did dad tell you where this was going to happen?” You nodded into the table warily, pushing upright, “said it’d be in the forest. Think even he knew’t’d look bad. ‘Specially in a camp our size,” you sighed, yawning. Ed frowned, “that just makes it look worse,” he observed. You nodded, “go tell him yourself, we both know he won’t listen to me.”

Your twin blinked slowly, “you supposed to meet him in the forest? Like, am I s’pposed to walk you?” Your brow narrowed, nose wrinkling. “He’d’ve said that, right?” Ed furrowed his own brow, “probably?” He sounded unsure.

You sighed again, slamming your hands against the table top, making him jump. “I can’t just sit here. I need to do something.” Ed raised a single dark brow, “cards?” You shook your head, “pick-up-sticks?” He shook his head. “Stone-parchment-blade?” You suggested.

“As a game to decide, or, like, a game by itself?” Your brow furrowed, “was going to say a game by itself, but to decide, instead.” He nodded.

The two of you held out your palms, counting to three and chanting before settling on a move. Ed had his palm curled into a fist: stone. You had your three middle-most fingers stuck out, thumb holding down your pinky: blade. Your twin slumped onto the table, groaning, “why are you grumbling, you won?”

“Are you going to get the cards?”

“No,” you grinned.

“Yeah.” He nodded, “thought not.”

Halfway through the third round, a series of knocks were landed on the door. You made eye contact over your cards, Ed raising a brow, “you gonna get that?”

“You get it,” you hissed.

“What? Why should I get it?” He snapped.

“You’re the male!”

“That’s an unhealthy stereotype.”

“Big words,” you returned.

“I know what they mean, too,” he gloated.

“Very impressive,” you shot back, in a condescending tone, “but I don’t want to go in case you cheat.”

“Cheat? Me?” He looked offended, “I would never!”

You scoffed, “I would, so you would.”

“Why don’t both of us go?”

“Then it looks like we’re scared.”

“It’s almost as if we are,” Edvard snapped back.

“Why are you scared? I thought you loved bastards.”

His brow narrowed, “are you serious right now?”

You folded your arms across your chest indignantly.

Another series of knocks resounded through your home, a little louder than before. You both made eye contact, before quietly rushing out the kitchen door, stumbling over one another as you peered round the corner down the hallway leading to the front door. “I think it’s darker than normal,” you murmured, noting the dim light coming through the small, oval window placed in the upper centre of the wooden entryway. The two of you stood there a moment longer in silence, waiting.

“This is ridiculous,” you hissed. Your twin nodded in agreement.

Both of you remained where you were.

“Go on,” Edvard hissed, shoving you out into the hallway. As usual, he didn’t know his own strength, sending you careening into the wall, your arms coming up instinctively to block yourself. “Prick,” you hissed over your shoulder as you tried to find a confident stride. Then you were the other side of the door. A single slab of wood between you and the male on the outside. You refused to hesitate, hand wrapping around the handle and turning.

A cold gust of wind blew in, definitely a sign, making you grip the handle tighter. An outline of darkness silhouetted him against the bright outside; you clenched your jaw. Instinctively, your lip curled, brow narrowing as you took in his lean but powerful frame. As far as you could tell, he wasn’t carrying any weapons. As far as you could tell. So, that didn’t mean much. He was a weapon of himself.

“Y/N?” He asked, checking you were the right person despite obviously being certain. You raised your chin, looking down your nose at him. In a way. His eyes flicked upward over your shoulder. You refused to turn your eyes from the male for even a second. “Edvard, I take it?” Relief rinsed down your spine at your twin’s presence. “Yes sir,” Ed replied, not a stutter or tremble to be found; you could practically hear the uplifting grin in his words. “Cass tells me you’re making fine progress,” the male spoke. Cass? You didn’t fail to notice his attention skating over you in favour of your male sibling. Typical.

Beside you, Ed stood a little straighter. You could practically see his chest puffing out as pride shone in his eyes, “glad he thinks so.” Your eyes narrowed as you glared at him through your peripherals. Why was he acting so at ease now? This male was dangerous. Just because he, for some reason, believed the General to be trustworthy, did not exempt this one from your wariness.

Returning attention to the male, your gaze snagged on the darkness of his wings. Moving darkness. Your jaw tightened as you zoned back into the conversation. “Would you like some tea?” You nearly choked on your own saliva, forcing you to cough abruptly into your hand. “We’re out of tea,” you managed, silently cursing the unaware dick-face that was your twin. He opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off with a pointed glare. His mouth pressed into a thin line, brows narrowing slightly, but he didn’t say anything else about coming inside.

“How long is this going to take?” You spoke, narrowing your eyes on the male before you, folding your arms over your chest. At the side of your head, you could feel Ed’s piercing gaze attempting to put a hole in your skull. “That’s up to you,” he replied, matching your tone perfectly. Your lip twitched but Ed decided to step in, “where exactly are we going?” The male’s eyes flicked back to your twin’s, once again skating over you. He nodded his head in the direction of the forest, before turning and setting off.

The two of you followed him out of your house before Edvard paused abruptly. You stopped, turning to look at him. “Cards!”

“You brought them with you?” You asked incredulously, noting he still held his hand of seven. “Just making sure you didn’t switch any,” he shot back disbelievingly. His eyes flickered over your shoulder to the large brute, “tiebreaker,” he grinned as he offered an explanation, “mind if I pop back in?”

“You aren’t going to take your sister’s?”

Your back stiffened.

Edvard’s brow lifted in confusion, gaze switching to you curiously. The hairs on your neck rose, tension gathering at the tip of your spine. Your twin looked at you expectantly, head cocked.

“Up her right sleeve.”

Your lip curled. Ed watched as you removed the card, sticking it out for him to take, pointedly avoiding his eyes. A bark of laughter came from his mouth as he took the card, “caught red-handed,” he grinned. Your cheeks warmed. “Not so sly after all, huh, quicksilver?”

“Well of course a bastard is going to be more underhanded,” you snapped, not taking any care to monitor your volume. Ed’s eyes narrowed down at you in a scathing glare, “will you shut up about that? It’s embarrassing,” he hissed, keeping his voice low.

“I thought being a low-born was nothing to ashamed of?” You snapped back. “You’re the problem,” he seethed, turning on his heel and storming back into your house, shutting the door with more force than necessary.

You had half a mind to turn and berate the adulterated brute for stepping into business that wasn’t his. You gritted your teeth, digging the nails of your left hand into your upper right arm, folding yourself tighter.

A few minutes passed and Ed was still inside the house. A fogged huff of annoyance slipped past your lips, your skin beginning to pebble beneath your clothes. You shifted on your feet, refolding your arms tighter than before, ducking your fingers between your sides and arms. What was taking him so long? Shifting your weight onto your other foot, leaning excessively to one side.

“Edvard’s taking a while,” came a deep drawl from behind you, making your ears twitch, lip curling at hearing his name from the brute’s mouth. You cast a glance over your shoulder - he was still in the same place - to check the sundial. “Why don’t you go check on him, then?” You gritted through your teeth. His eyes flicked down to yours, cold; observing. “Go on,” you kept your scowl up as you jerked your head in the houses direction before turning away from him again. You waited silently to see what he’d do. A few moments later, he passed you on silent feet, your muscles tensing as he moved toward the door, knocking before entering.

A puff of smog blew from your mouth as you exhaled, eyes flitting to the skies, keeping a keen eye out. Your lips tipped as you spotted a familiar figure coming in to land. The Lord landed smoothly, eyes instantly marking your presence as you approached, brow furrowed in displeasure, “why are you still here?”

“Waiting for the dog to come out. He went in to fetch Ed,” you supplied, tucking your wings in tighter and slightly hunching your shoulders. His gaze flicked to your house, lips tilting downward, just as the two emerged from the door.

Anticipation curled in your stomach as your father strode toward the two figures, following behind him quietly. “What’s the meaning of this?” He spoke, directing the question at your twin. Ed’s spine straightened, hands tightening behind his back, “kettle boiled over,” he answered, “he was helping clear the fire top.”

Your father’s resentful gaze fell on you. “You left the kettle on the fire?” He spoke, accusation underlying his words. You blinked, arms unfolding slightly before spinning an excuse, “it wouldn’t have boiled over if the fire had been put out. That’s more of a problem than forgetting a tiny scrap of metal.”

“You left the fire burning?” The question was directed at Ed but your father kept you beneath his irritated glare. “Yes, dad,” your twin admitted, knowing it was better for him to take the fall.

The menace in his gaze didn’t weaken, “neither of you eat tonight.” Your brow dipped at you straightened your spine, about to speak. “You’re sleeping downstairs,” he growled, piercing eyes flaring with barely dampened anger. “We wouldn’t have missed those things if his shadows hadn’t been playing at the windows,” you snapped the lie fluidly, jabbing a finger in the brute’s direction, hoping your father’s hatred for bastards would outweigh that he had for you. Ed glared at you from the other side of the war camp’s Lord.

“Another word from your mouth, girl, and you’ll be sleeping outside,” he snarled, lip curling in hardly restrained rage. This time Ed moved to speak, though you knew nothing good would come of it.

“It won’t happen again.” That was not Ed.

Three pairs of eyes settled on the tall male: curious, hateful, and reproachful. His shadows thinned to an almost imperceivable outline, a shallow veil of darkness to hide behind.

There was a tense pause, wondering if your father would settle for that or if he would insist of punishing one of you.

“See to it that it does not, Shadowsinger.” The word was practically spat.

Both you and your twin hardly breathed, too well acquainted with the repercussions of showing relief or anything but neutrality on your faces.

Edvard hastily shifted to the side as your father moved to return to the house. Neither of you showed any sign of reprieve until you’d both counted silently to fifty, long gone from your home, following quietly behind the male.

“Think we still won’t get food?” Ed broke the silence. You scowled at the Shadowsinger’s back, between his shoulder blades, “no matter how pissy he gets, I’ll be the one cooking. I think between us we can sneak some food out,” you threw a mischievous glance at your twin whose eyes were already sparking with matching devilry. “What do you have in mind?”

You thought for a moment, “I doubt he’ll know any better if a couple of potatoes worth of chips go missing…” you posed, the corners of your mouths hitching up. “Just make sure he doesn’t see how many were put in initially and we’ll be safe.” Ed nodded eagerly, then paused, “maybe some meat too, just to be sure?”

“For us, or father?”

“Dad, as distraction?”

Your lips twisted downward at the edges, “I’m not sure if my pride can take sucking up to that piece of sh—”

“Do you have to swear so much?” Ed cut you off, a single brow risen, his lip curled slightly. You shrugged, “he is what he is.”

“I get that, but…I don’t know…it’s just…a little much?” He winced as he spoke. “So what…just call him ‘father’ when he’s being a dic—” Ed glared. “—ta…tor? A dictator.” Your twin nodded, returning his gaze ahead of him, “dictator will do.”

“Anything else you want to scold me about?” You scowled playfully, folding your arms over your chest, skin beginning to pebble again. His eyes flitted to you before dashing away again. You sighed, “just tell me.” His eyes flicked forward, toward the male, then back again. Pointed. You rose a brow in challenge.

“At the very least, do you have to be so obvious about it?” Edvard sighed, continuing forward. “I’m not going to be one of those people who only talks shit behind someone’s back,” you snapped, “that’s cowardly.”

“But the things you’re saying? Unnecessary. And hurtful,” he argued. “I mean, how would you feel if people were saying those things at me?”

“First of all, if they were saying it about you, they’d be saying it about me, too. Secondly, one, if not both, of us would be dead. And third, that,” you hissed, gesturing to the shadowed male, “is a fully fledged warrior, I really doubt some name-calling is going to get under his skin.”

“If you can acknowledge he’s a warrior, can’t you see the sense in not pissing him off?” Ed hissed back.

You rolled your eyes, “what’s he going to do?” As soon as the words had left your mouth, both your eyes flicked to the Shadowsinger’s back. You reconsidered. “It wouldn’t work in his favour.” Ed gave you a look, a single eyebrow raised. Your jaw drops, “I’m not that bad,” you snapped. He continued giving you the look.

“Fuck you!”

[fieldofdaisiies]

Welcome to Burlesque

paring: Gwyn x Azriel | type: fluff | words: 6,8k | warnings: none; for @gwynrielweeksofficial day AU, thank you so much for organising this great event💛 read on ao3

Show a little more Show a little less Add a little smoke Welcome to Burlesque

Maybe this idea is stupid? Maybe it is incredibly stupid. 

“Och!” Gwyn thinks and wants to throw her head back and groan out loud, but she is in public, so she growls internally. She curls her fingers tighter around the pole she is holding onto in order to not tumble around in the bus. Her feets are planted wide on the ground, and for a moment she hopes to just grow roots so she never has to leave this bus.

Why did she even come up with such a stupid idea?

Well, Gwyn thinks and blows out a long breath, it technically wasn’t my idea.

No. It was Nesta and Emerie‘s idea. Nesta and Emerie’s brilliant idea. Gwyn loves her best friends, more than anything in this world, but this idea was stupid. Still is. And why she agreed…it will forever be a mystery to her. 

Doubts, doubts she hoped to shove away, start to bubble up inside her mind and make her stomach coil. Despite being determined and often rather confident, Gwyn worries she will not be good enough and make a fool out of herself. It is not easy to let go off such thoughts, even harder to fight against them—

So captured by her uncertainty and the whirlwind of thoughts within her mind, Gwyn nearly misses her stop. And honestly, the thought of missing it doesn’t sound too appalling. But something, almost like a little pull on her chest, makes her move, her steps treading carefully over the floor of the bus when she leaves and then over the in-ice-covered streets.

She could be at home now, wrapped up in thick blankets, a cup of hot chocolate in her hands, watching the Idol or The Voice, day-dreaming about a future where she finds herself standing on a stage.

Everything you dream ofBut never can possessNothing's what it seemsWelcome to Burlesque

Tendrils of breath curl in front of her face when she exhales a long breath — maybe the day-dreaming is soon over and her wishes actually become reality? Because what she is about to do…

Gwyn rubs her gloved hands against each other. Her heart is beating rapidly, her stomach coiling even more, as nervousness grows rapidly within her chest.

She stops in front of the large sign that one can see for miles - aglow and shining brightly, inviting. The door below is similarly lit, the lettering on top of bright.

If she left now, no one would know she was even here. She could just tell Emerie and Nesta that she got a headache and had to stay home. What a brilliant idea, Gwyn thinks, but—

“Hey, sweetie!” A lovely female voice sounds behind her and Gwyn spins around. The blond woman now moving past her, simultaneously uses her key to unlock the door and shrugs off her coat.

“I’m Morrigan, but everyone calls me Mor. I sit at the entrance. You must be Gwyn. Come in, don’t want you freezing to death out here.” Mor holds the door open for Gwyn, who can only follow her invitation, lips parted slightly. 

There is no way back now – and how the hell, does Mor know her name? 

For a split second entertains the thought of running, but then she realises how stupid that would look. She tries to summon every little ounce of confidence, letting it settle into her chest, inhaling one deep, long breath. 

“Hi, pleasure to meet you.” 

Tossing her coat onto the counter and smoothing out her hair, Morrigan turns to her again, “The pleasure is fully mine. Your coat.”

Gwyn places her bag down and hands her coat to the blond woman. 

“Emmy, already told me you’d come and about your incredible talent. I can’t wait to hear you sing.”

“She did?!” Gwyn asks, slightly overwhelmed.

“She did.” The blond woman flashes her a bright smile.

Morrigan is beautiful, Gwyn thinks, her smile radiant, her red dress stunning and she starts to question her own choice of clothing - leggings and a sweater.

“Are you ready?”

She has no time to answer— her expression must have given her away before Gwyn even had a chance to open her mouth. So Morrigan steps into her, her manicured hands landing atop Gwyn’s shoulders.

“I‘m sure you will do amazing. Emmy showed me a few of your videos, you are incredibly talented. You will set this place on fire.” Morrigan grins from one ear to the other, her smile so radiant it rivals spotlights.

But when her lips turn into a softer, more delicate smile, the blond female asks a question that sends a pang of hurt right into Gwyn’s heart.

“Do you have someone you want to make proud? Or someone you want to prove something to? It is always a nice motivation for auditions.” Mor drops her hands and turns toward the staircase. “Whenever I auditioned for modeling jobs, I always kept in mind that I wanted to prove to my father that this is my life and my decisions and studying at Harvard truly wasn’t for me.”

Gwyn only half listens, and offers the blond female a tight smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. She is a little unfocused, now that her thoughts start to wander after Mor mentioned “someone you want to make proud”.

Because in her life there is —was— someone she wants to make proud. Her twin sister. Her late twin sister. Catrin Berdara. She died in a car crash six years ago, a memory that still haunts Gwyn, a pain that will never fade and that has left a wound within her heart that can never be healed. She has learned to live with the loss of her sister, but that doesn’t mean it the day hasn’t left its scars.

Someone you want to make proud. A new sense of determination suddenly fills Gwyn when she replays the words in her mind. She wants to make her sister proud and this thought truly motivates her — Morrigan is right. She is doing this for herself, but also for her sister. Catrin loved to watch her sing, loved when she sang for them, and now Gwyn is going to make her the proudest sister ever. 

This thought also gives enough self-confidence to straighten her posture and follow Morrigan down the staircase with confident steps, her shoulders squared.

Within seconds, Gwyn is absolutely mesmerised by the place, all the flickering, glowing lights, the immaculate decor. It doesn’t look cheap or tacky - everything here looks luxurious, lush, formidable. Absolutely amazing.

Her lips part slightly when her gaze trails from the bar to the stage - the stage she would maybe soon perform on. The stage a few women are currently performing on. The one in the middle is the leader, Gwyn knows and then her eyes move to her best friend. There is Nesta! 

And she looks absolutely breathtaking and amazing. She hasn’t found Emerie yet, but she might be somewhere in the back, restocking things for the bar. 

Excitement slowly seeps into every fibre of her body, and she feels anticipation. Maybe it wasn’t such a stupid idea after all. And maybe working in the same place as her friends, doing the thing she loves most, is quite amazing. 

Something there in the darkIs playing with your mindIt's not the end of daysIt's just the bump and grindShow a little moreShow a little lessAdd a little smokeWelcome to Burlesque

Gwyn watches in astonishment, how coordinated everything is, how beautiful the woman in the middle sings, and how gracefully everyone dances. It is a stunning show and suddenly she can’t wait to be part of it. She wants to be part of this incredible group!

Okay, Gwyn thinks, maybe this was not a stupid idea at all. She wants to be part of it, within the seconds that follow small fractions of her nervousness start to fade, dissipating into thin air.

She knows the dresses they are wearing are very short and very revealing, and with some things that happened to her in the past, it scared her a little when Nesta told her about it. But her best friend took some part of the fear from her - they have a bodyguard here, and he is the best (according to Nesta also in other places aka the bedroom) and he always makes sure the girls are 100% safe. No one ever gets to touch them or only look at them the wrong way. The bodyguard will immediately kick them out.

And this comforts her. A lot. 

“There you go. I need to head back to work, checking guest lists and stuff.” Mor brushes her hand over Gwyn’s shoulder. “If you need me, I am up in the booth,” —Mor points upstairs again— “until then, chin up, shoulders squared, smile and sweep them off your feet with your talent Gwyn.”

Gwyn thanks her and watches her leave, drawing in some deep inhales, and closing her eyes — some mind-stilling techniques she has read about in a book that actually help her a lot.

After a moment, Gwyn places her bag on one of the barstools, eyes aglow as they dance over every single person on the stage, then once again lock onto Nesta. This is fully her thing, Gwyn knows this. Her best friend enjoys every little moment of this dance performance and she can’t wait to share this happiness with her. 

Most of the former doubts have all of a sudden vanished and it even leaves her surprised herself. But it is a good feeling, a wonderful and very welcome feeling.

A smile blooms on Gwyn‘s face, her mind immediately memorising the song, the performance, the–

“We are still closed,” a velvety and at the same time cold voice says behind her, startling Gwyn so much she nearly jumps a little.

Gwyn spins around, and her breath catches. 

A man, tall, strongly built, and with beauty that is beyond her emerges from the shadows of the room behind the bar. He holds a towel in his hands, drying himself off, his black shirt is slightly unbuttoned at the top showing some tendrils of ink on his tanned skin. 

Gwyn meets his eyes and in a voice that is much stronger than she has expected it to be, she says, “I am not here to watch.”

The handsome man casually tosses the towel over his shoulder, gaze slowly running over her. It is not in a sensual way, or in one that would make her uncomfortable. No, he is curious. He is assessing her. 

Casually, he leans his hip against the counter and crosses his arms over his broad chest and the corner of his louth kicks up.

“So you are here—”

“To perform. You are going to audition for the lead role, aren’t you?.”

A man, even taller than the other, appears next to his colleague and Gwyn immediately knows who he is. 

Mr Man-bun-devilish-smile-stunning-body-and-god-between-the-sheets, or simpler Cass. Or…Nesta‘s friend with benefits.

Gwyn has heard a lot about him. And has heard him a lot already as well – Cassian is not the calmest in the bedroom, that much she knows. Now at least she finally has a face to Nesta‘s secret lover who also slipped out of their flat before she got up. (The pictures of him on Nesta‘s phone don’t count.)

“That is right,” Gwyn beams, I‘m here to audition. Music has by then settled into every cell of her body, it nearly makes her sway her hips, and she knows it hasn’t been a bad decision. Her best friends just know her too well, even though she might not have thought so herself at first.

“I heard you have a lot of talent, Gwyn.”

She concludes, her friends definitely share too much about her…but she offers Cassian a polite smile and then thanks him. 

“Are you ready?”

Gwyn grins, and despite the kernel of nervousness still deeply-rooted within her chest, she says, “Born ready.”

It steals a small laugh from the male she still doesn’t know the name of. Cassian chortles loudly and says, “Good, because here comes Ri.” Cassian winks at her and turns toward the staircase. Gwyn has no time to ask “who?” because—

“You must be, Gwyn. I‘ve heard so much about you, and your talent. I can’t wait to hear you on the stage.” 

When she turns, Gwyn is met with a tall female in her early forties, her long black hair cascading down her front in loose waves, her make-up immaculate, just like the grace with which she walks, the long robe revealing hints of her long legs.

“I‘m Rita, the owner of this club.”

“Gwyn,” she reaches out her hand and Rita shakes it, the smile on her lips widening.

“You are ready for this, Gwyn, and everything that comes along with it.”

Gwyn holds her gaze, and inhales a deep breath. She is going to do this. For her best friends. For her sister. For herself. She can do this. She has talent, she knows this, and this might be a big step, but definitely one into the right direction.

In a voice that is confident, she says, “Yes, I am.”

“Then enough of the chit-chat. Get onto the stage, and show us what you got!”

Rita claps her hands twice and all girls stop dancing, and finally Nesta spots her, her eyes widening in delight and a joyful noise slips through her lips.

“You came,” she nearly shouts and beams at Gwyn.

I did, Gwyn thinks, and returns her best friend’s expression. 

⋆｡♪ ₊˚ ⋆｡♪ ₊˚

“Good luck. Show her what you got!” Azriel says and braces his hands on the cool countertop, watching how Gwyn turns back to him, a beautiful, barely-there smile on her in-freckles-covered cheeks.

“Thank you,” she answers politely and then follows after Rita. Azriel’s gaze stays on her, almost already a little enthralled by her, by her beauty—

“That looks like a severe crush to me, and that after, hmmm,” —Emerie, finally having emerged from the storage room, looks at her wrist, at her imaginary watch, and then back at Azriel— “after mere seconds. Congrats, Azzy.”

She flashes him a wicked grin, and Azriel tosses an ice cube at her. “I don’t have a crush,” he protests. 

“Of course, and you also definitely don’t look at my best friend like she is the most beautiful woman you have ever seen.” Emerie rolls her eyes in a dramatic manner.

Gwyn is most definitely the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, Azriel thinks, but in a voice, tinged with annoyance, he says, “I don’t have a crush, Em.”

“Whatever you say, lover boy.”

“Don’t call me that,” he snaps, but has to grin. When Emerie laughs loudly, he stretches out his arm and curls it around her shoulder, putting her in a playful headlock.

But his arms loosen just a moment later and drop to his side when—

Oh-oh, sometimes I get a good feeling, yeahI get a feeling that I never, never, never, never had before, no, no

He has expected her voice to be good, but that good? No way. Azriel’s mouth falls open, eyes widening, his lips feeling a little dry. 

“Fuck,” he breathes and hears Emerie giggle next to him. When he slowly turns to look at her, he sees the woman watch with nothing but pride and absolute amazement how her best friend performs.

“She is incredible,” Emerie whispers and folds her hand over her heart, tears glistening in her dark eyes. 

“She is,” Azriel agrees in the same breathy voice. “She really is.”

I just wanna tell you right now that II believeI really do believe thatSomething's got a hold on me, yeah

Azriel watches the rest of the performance in astonishment and can’t stop himself from grinning when Rita claps loudly and officially announces that Gwyn got the job, as they would never find a better option in the entire city.

He also watches how her friends rush to her, embracing her tightly, all three of them cheering, and jumping around like crazy hens. He finds it amusing, and aöthough he won’t approach her anymore today, he will try to catch her tomorrow, maybe talk a little with her.

⋆｡♪ ₊˚ ⋆｡♪ ₊˚

“Congrats, by the way,” Azriel leans against the door, holding it open for Gwyn. Gwyn raises a brow, a bright smile on her lips. 

“On what?” she asks, but actually knows the answer. 

“On landing the role,” Azriel chuckles and Gwyn walks past him, her scent immediately hitting him – of waterlilies and a lake after rain, fresh and wonderful. He loves it. 

“You are the barkeeper here right?”

“A barkeeper, but yes.” Azriel follows her down the staircase and Gwyn looks at him over her shoulder. “Em’s your boss, right?”

The man dips his chin, the smirk not fading. “She is and she really loves to emphasise this.”

Of course, Emerie does, Gwyn thinks and has to giggle to herself. They continue the rest down to the bar and stage sharing a bit of small talk, mostly very superficial things, but it is a nice start to get to know each other and for the little spark between the ignite and start to glow brightly within their hearts. 

Just like the previous day, Azriel once again watches Gwyn perform, his sole focus on her, and not on the other women around her. Of course, Nesta catches him staring and winks at him across the room and also Emerie pats his shoulder. 

“Not a crush,” she chuckles when she passes him with a tray full of freshly washed glasses. “Sort them in.”

“Pulling rank?” Azriel raises a brow.

Emerie smirks, and crosses her arms over her chest. “Always. I need to make sure my men really work and don’t just drool over beautifully red-haired singers.” She winks at him and turns away, leaving Azriel alone. Alone to stare and day-dream about Gwyn’s utterly beautiful voice. He is mesmerised by it, absolutely – she is a siren and he a sailor, fully enthralled by her angelic voice, following her out into the deep blue sea. The sea – her eyes somehow remind him of an ocean, wild and free, and–

Azriel shakes his head. Definitely not a crush…right. Who is he fooling? But falling so easily? After such a minimal amount of time?

“Good god!” Azriel expresses and picks up the first glass to dry it off. He hates to admit it, but he knows Emerie is right. He truly has a crush. 

And this crush doesn’t get better. No, it only gets worse. 

He can’t stop himself from marveling at her every day she returns for practice. She is gorgeous and he loves how her whole demeanor changes when she is up on the stage. It feels like a weight falls from her shoulders and on the stage she moves freely, wildly, joyfully. Like a bird in the wind. She is flying and nothing can stop her. 

And despite her nervousness before her first performance, and the snarky remark from her rival colleague Merrill, who says that Gwyn is not ready yet, she turns in a free spirit once she starts to perform. 

The seven sisters got nothing on himI'm talking about a lover who's fast as the windEveryone will talk about how he got me fixedIt ain't voodoo, it's just that twistHe will be the greatest lover that ever come to passDon Juan ain't got the half the chanceHe's a tough lover 

With each day, and every performance that follows, the weight seems to fully leave her shoulders until Gwyn is nothing more than a radiant soul, full of brightness and happiness whenever she steps foot into the building. 

Azriel finds himself drawn to her, and is truly thankful that Gwyn seems to feel the same. She often seeks him out after a performance, just for a short talk, or a short drink, before she heads home with Nesta, them giggling and whispering giddy while departing and Azriel wants nothing more than to know what they are talking about. If they are talking about him. 

⋆｡♪ ₊˚ ⋆｡♪ ₊˚

“You’re sure it is alright?”

“100%!” Azriel hears Gwyn assure Nesta. He places the last glass down and then takes off his apron, placing it neatly on the counter. 

“I hate letting you go home alone.” Nesta curls her around Gwyn’s shoulders.

“I will be safe.” Gwyn places her hand on Nesta’s forearm, then pats it. “It isn’t that far.”

With a sigh, Nesta steps away. “You call me when you arrive at home.”

“I don’t think you will be…available,” Gwyn snickers, and tilts her head into Cassian’s direction. He is already impatiently waiting at the staircase. 

“Then text me. I need to know you are home and safe.” Nesta kisses Gwyn’s cheek and finally fully steps away from her, heading towards Cassian. Gwyn shows her thumbs up and Nesta nods, letting Cassian wrap his arm around her and then they leave. 

Leave them alone. Just the two of them. Rita is still somewhere around, but probably in her office, so she doesn’t count at this moment. 

“I am also heading home now,” Gwyn tells Azriel and awkwardly slides off her stool. 

“I’m taking you.” Azriel bends down and then straightens up, holding a motorcycle helmet in his hand. “Allow me to give you a ride. I really don’t want you to go home alone. At night.”

As much as Gwyn wants to say yes, she can’t. Something restrains her from doing so. It might be the close proximity a motorcycle provides, and the thought of having to be so utterly close to Azriel, to a man, or her nervousness about her growing feelings for him, but she can’t say yes. At this moment, it is simply not possible. Being so close to a man, letting a man so close to her, is still not so easy. It has gotten better over time, much better. She doesn’t fear Azriel, or Cassian or the men who come to watch the show, but crossing a line of distance…this is something else. 

Something that still makes her feel uneasy. 

Azriel rounds the counter, giving her a look that seems a little impatient. “Yes?”

“Thank you very much, but you really don’t need to.”

“I know,” Azriel says, his voice soft, “but I want to.”

And then it happens. To quick. So quick that it startles her. She doesn’t want to flinch. Not because of him. Not because of his touch. But with the surprise and her already being tense due to the conversation before, she cringes the slightest bit and prays that Azriel hasn’t noticed. 

Her heart slams into her belly when she takes in the look in his eyes – he did notice. Gwyn can barely stand to face him a moment longer. She can’t bear to see the hurt within his hazel eyes. 

“I’m so sorry,” Gwyn says quickly, her voice hushed. “I need to leave now.” She heads for the staircase. Before the first step, she turns back to Azriel and over her shoulder she says, “This has nothing to do with you. I want you to know this. This only has to do with myself.” 

Then she is gone, leaving Azriel alone in the dim room, in his heart a little crack and in his mind nothing but confusion. In the days that follow, things between them feel awkward. They both want to apologize, but they don't know how to start. They mostly avoid each other until Gwyn decides to take the first step and talk to Azriel…

⋆｡♪ ₊˚ ⋆｡♪ ₊˚

“You sing?!” Gwyn’s voice is joyful and surprised, eyes full of brightness. 

“No, I don’t.” Azriel furrows his brows. 

Gwyn puts her hands on her hips. “I‘m not dumb, Azriel, I heard you. You were totally singing in the storage room.”

His gaze meets hers. “I can‘t sing,” he says but Gwyn wants to hear none of it. She shakes her head and smiles.

“You can sing! You should perform with me.”

Azriel’s furrows his forehead, then turns away from her and starts to dry off a glass. Some of their former lightness has returned. He knows they have to talk about what has happened, but right now he is happy that they at least talk again. “I would never sing in public,” Azriel says and places the glass down and picks up a new one. “Sorry, but that will never happen.”

Gwyn sighs dramatically, and lifts her hands only so she can place them on the bar counter. “I guess I‘m going to call you shadowsinger then, only revealing your beautiful singing voice when hidden by darkness.”

She grins in triumph over her invention of the word shadowsinger (the perfect description for him) and it even elicits a small chuckle from Azriel.

He turns to her and an adorable blush blooms high on his cheeks. “You are impossible, Gwyn.” He tosses his damp towel at her, but Gwyn elegantly catches it and pokes her tongue out at her colleague, cheeks equally rosy.

But the playfulness fades from her face and a more sincere expression settles there. “I actually came here to apologsie to you, Azriel.”

“You don’t have to apologise.” Azriel straightens up and once again tosses the towel over his shoulder. “You did nothing wrong. I touched you without your consent.”

Her heart warms at his kindness, at the understanding and empathy within his hazel eyes. So, Gwyn takes a step forward and places her palms on the cool surface of the counter. She smiles at him, and closes her eyes. “I flinched, and I want you to know that this wasn’t because of you, Azriel.” Slowly, her lids open and she meets his gaze. Azriel is already looking at her, patiently waiting for her to continue. 

“It had nothing to do with you.”

“I startled you and–”

“Can we maybe sit down somewhere and talk?”

Gwyn has specifically chosen to get to work a little earlier this day so he can talk to him. She wanted to catch Azriel alone and she knew the best time for that would be before work. She wants to let him in, and offer him a proper explanation. She knows that there is something between them. The secret glances, the shy smiles, the spark between them, it is all there. The lightness when they talk, the playfulness, the little teasing every now and then. She most definitely has a crush on him and she can sense that it is vice versa. And she doesn’t want to let this wonderful thing that could be between them be destroyed by her past. 

Enough was taken from her back then. She can’t allow it to have control over her whole life. 

Accepting this job offer here, was one of the first steps into the right direction. This is now the next one. 

Once they are seated, a glass of water in front of both of them thanks to Azriel, Gwyn inhales deeply, closes her eyes and takes a moment to calm her breathing and her mind. And then she is ready to open up. She first tells Azriel about her sister, Catrin. How much she loved her, how they grew up together. And then, when her voice is already hoarse and tears roll down her cheeks, she allows him to learn a part of herself that hardly anyone knows. Apart from Nesta and Emerie, no one knows actually. So this is a major step, but one that feels good. She likes to let Azriel in, open up to him, offer him an explanation for why she flinched. But it is not because she feels the need to do so, she does it because it feels right. Being with him does. Opening up to him does. Letting him in does. 

Azriel stays calm the whole time, lets her talk and listens, his own eyes watering. 

“You are so strong, Gwyn,” he eventually says. Gwyn shakes her head and tears fly away. 

“You are,” Azriel protests. “And the fact that you now stand here, with a smile on your lips, performing every night with nothing but brightness in your soul…I am very proud of you.”

She doesn’t need him to say it, but it also feels damn good and she smiles through her tears and is now the one to reach out, placing her hand atop his. “Thank you for listening to me.”

“Thank you for sharing this part of your past with me.” He revels in the touch of her soft skin against his, and that she feels comfortable enough with him to hold his hand. “Thank you for letting me.”

“I know that I can trust you, and this part of myself is safe with you.” Gwyn holds his gaze, neither of them able to look away. Sparks ignite anew between them, their gazes locked, hands still in each other’s hold. 

“Always,” Azriel whispers, and flips over his hand, stroking the back of hers with his thumb. “And so are you. I will make sure nothing ever happens to you again, Gwyn. And so does Cass. You are safe here, you know this.”

“I do,” she hums and leans forward the slightest bit. “I know that I am safe here and that nothing can happen to me here.”

He returns her smile, and it is the most beautiful thing Gwyn has ever seens. Her heart is beating so fast, it is hammering against her rib cage and if they keep looking at each other for a moment longer, she knows it will burst right through her chest. 

“Sometimes…” Gwyn averts her gaze for a moment. “Sometimes the demons are still there. I feel like they linger somewhere in the back of my mind and I can’t always keep them locked away. But it is getting better.” 

When she turns back she finds nothing but understanding on Azriel’s face. “I know exactly what you are talking about,” he tells her, still gently caressing the back of her hand. “But I’ll promise you that together will make them leave forever.”

⋆｡♪ ₊˚ ⋆｡♪ ₊˚

“What are you doing?” Gwyn looks over his shoulder and Azriel snatches the notebook close.

“Nothing,” he grumbles, his shoulders tensing. He places his hand atop the little, black book almost like protecting it from her prying eyes.

“Oh, secrets?” Gwyn raises a teasing brow, surrounding him, hands braced on her hips. “Are you writing a song?”

Azriel frowns. “You have practice now.”

“In five minutes.” She grins, and it warms Azriel’s heart. He can't help it, it just makes the corner of his mouth tip up.

“You should warm up before practice,” he answers, voice still flat.

“I‘m already warm.” A hint of fire fills her eyes that would almost knock Azriel off his feet if he weren’t sitting down. 

“Now?” She raises her brows. “Is it a song? Or a poem? Tell me, Azriel, are you one to spout poetry?”

Gwyn places the back of her hand against her forehead, sighing dramatically. “Shall I call you Azriel Shakespeare from now on?”

Chuckling, he places his notebook down and rises to his feet. “You can soon call me yours, Berdara. Go on a date with me. Tomorrow.”

He is smirking, and Gwyn’s heart skips a beat. She feels her cheeks heat, filling with colour. His eyes alone make her knees feel weak, but she won’t give in so easily. 

Tapping her index finger against her chin, she tilts her head to the side. “I would never go out with a colleague and I‘m busy tomorrow.” 

“Come on, it‘s just a date.”

She leans against the dresser behind her, grins and then says, “Nope.” 

Azriel raises a brow. He is not hurt by her answer. It is playful teasing between them and he knows she likes him just as much as he likes her. 

He scoffs and then rolls his eyes. “Go to practice now. And then make the decision.” 

This is playful banter, Gwyn knows this. Azriel would never push her. Not after having learned about her past, and even before. He is a good man, with a good heart. He would never cross a line where she would no longer feel comfortable. 

“My answer is: nope. N.O.P.E.” She puts a stress on each letter, arms now folded over her chest. 

She can’t say yes. Not yet. She doesn’t want to rush things with him. She first wants to get him to know a bit better, and also she wants to make him fight a little. He shouldn’t have it that easy. But he’s persistent and won’t let her go so easily. “Think about it again, Berdara.”

Now Gwyn is the one to roll her eyes. “You are impossible, but okay, I will think about it.” She forces a grin onto her lips and grabs her bag before a moment later disappearing into the changing room.

“What’s on the agenda today?” Azriel calls after her, but has to wait for his answer until she appears again. And that in a very short, and white silken dress that makes Azriel gasp. 

“Bound to you, sweet love.” She smiles delicately at him and then heads for the door. 

“Come, or you’ll miss the whole performance.”

Of course, Azriel follows, but regrets it a moment later. Or actually when Gwyn starts to sing. The rug is pulled out from under his feet in this moment and he is a goner, lost and falling and hitting the ground hard. She is perfect, and amazing and hopefully soon his. 

I found a man I can trust And boy, I believe in us I am terrified to love for the first time Can't you see that I'm bound in chains? I've finally found my way I am bound to you

Whenever she is on the stage Gwyn becomes alive – her soul feels light, just like her feet. She sings with her whole heart, pouring every small ounce of emotion into every song. And it is perfect.

⋆｡♪ ₊˚ ⋆｡♪ ₊˚

“Allow me to drive you home today?”

“You are persistent.” Gwyn chuckles at Azriel. 

“Hey!” Azriel throws up his hands in despair. “I did not ask about a date again. Only about driving you home.” He leans his shoulder against the doorframe. “Nesta is sleeping at Cass’ place aka Cassian‘s and my place again, so…I don’t want you to go home alone and I really need an excuse to not go home immediately.”

“You don’t want to go home?” Gwyn raises a brow.

“I don’t what it is like when Cass is at your place, but when they are our place they are not quite calm in their…love making.”

Gwyn understands immediately, internally face-palming herself and then grimaces. “Fine,” she says, but then remembers something. 

She turns to him with a grin. “But only under one condition.” There is a mischievous glint in her eyes that nearly brings Azriel to his knees.

“Go on,” he drawls.

“You show me the song you wrote.”

Azriel’s eyes widen, but the surprise fades quickly and he laughs. “You really don’t forget anything, do you?”

Gwyn grins, and shakes her head. “Not the important things.”

“Impossible.” Azriel pushes off the doorframe, and reveals the motorcycle helmet he held behind his body, now holding it out into her direction. “Alright then. You allow me to give you a ride, I‘ll show you the song.”

She closes the distance between, her hand reaching for the helmet. “Alright then,” she says with a bright grin.

It is almost like a movie scene, Gwyn concludes, when moments later finds herself atop his incredible motorcycle, her legs on either side of it and Azriel’s hands…she allowed him to fix the strap of the spare helmet he somehow owned and…

God! Gwyn looses a breath she forgot she was holding in. He is so close, the scent of his colon everything she can smell and his smile — oh damn him and his stunning smile.

“That’s alright?” Azriel asks, trying to move the helmet around but it is perfectly in place. 

“Perfect,” Gwyn tells him and Azriel pats her helmet before mounting the bike himself, always careful. 

“Hands on my waist.” Gwyn follows his order, scooting a bit closer, her breath catching once again. 

“Will you go fast?”

“If that’s what you like?”

“Is it what you like?”

Azriel turns to look at her, and before he closes the lid of his helmet, he smirks. Then he starts the motorcycle. “Hold on tight, Gwyn.”

Her arms naturally curl around his waist and they take off. 

It is almost like flying, Gwyn thinks. No, this is what flying must feel like — being weightless and fast with the wind whipping against your body. She laughs from the bottom of her heart, the sound pure and full of joy.

As gently as he placed the helmet he also removed it again, his fingers tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. “I hope you enjoyed it so much that you now let me drive you home more often.”

She doesn’t answer him verbally, but she straightens up and kisses his cheek, “Thank you so much for the ride.”

Azriel thinks he is very lucky that it is dark, so Gwyn might hopefully not see the terrible blush on his cheeks. He brings up a hand and scratches the back of his neck. 

“And now the song?” She smiles at him expectantly. 

“Only under one condition.” Azriel smirks and Gwyn fights the urge to roll her eyes. 

“You perform the song at the next show.”

⋆｡♪ ₊˚ ⋆｡♪ ₊˚

She would have never said no. Not to such a wonderful offer. The song he wrote, it was perfect, his talent obvious. But the fact that he wrote this song for her. 

It had nearly knocked her off het feet. Even hours after had been gone, Gwyn sat in her bed, reading over the lyrics, memorising it.

And today is the day — she is performing his song. It feels like the greatest honour and she can’t believe her luck that he has actually written a song for her to perform. A song just for her. That he started to write because of her. 

The spotlights are warming her skin, Nesta dances close to her and she sings, from the bottom of her heart, enjoys every single note and relishes in the feel of it, happiness reaching the top, seeping into every fibre of her body.

Hit it up, get it up Won't let you rest Hit it up, get it up This is not a test Hit it up, get it up Gotta give me your best So get your ass up Show me how you burlesque.

The song ends and Gwyn is breathless. She throws her arms around Nesta and cuddles her tightly while cheers and applause rain down on them. Tendrils of damp hair curl around her face, and Gwyn knows she has never felt that alive and happy. This was amazing. The song was. Azriel’s song. 

She turns her head, and from across the room meets Azriel’s gaze, his eyes alight, and a beautiful, bright smile on his lips. 

Gwyn inhales deeply and then sets out for him. She quickly crosses the distance, running, practically flying over the ground and then throwing her arms around his neck. “The song was brilliant,” she cheers and Azriel lifts her off the ground. 

“You were brilliant,” he says and has no chance to continue. 

Gwyn’s soft lips meet his and fireworks explode within them, nothing but bliss and joy in the air around them. 

And when she pulls back and looks at the grin on his face, she knows she is falling massively for him. And fast. And head over heels. But it doesn’t scare her. It feels too good and too right to scare her. Now that she shared her past with him, no obstacle lies between them and she can’t wait for what the future has to offer for them. 

She won’t go fast with him. She will take her time, getting to know Azriel first and then they will see where it leads them. But she knows, whatever direction it will be, having Azriel in her life is one of the best things that could have happened to her.

(*this story is using original songs from the Burlesque movie)

[una-guanabana]

🥀shadows and roses🥀

Okay so I finished ACOSF yesterday, and all I could do after that was lie in bed for most of the night trying to answer my own questions. As if SJM had written at the end: based on what we learned through this series what do you think happened…?

▪️Does Elain get to be with our beloved shadow singer?

▪️Does Gwyn ends up with him?

▪️Is Mor ever going to come out to her family?

▪️Will Lucien be happy and find a place to call home?

I got into this series because I saw a bunch of fan art. And I kind of spoiled the main plot for me, I knew Rhysand and Feyre were end game but I kept getting confused about Azriel, Gwyn, Lucien and Elain.

I was expecting each character to have their own chapters so we could see the development of these relationships. And I was so sure Azriel ended up with Gwyn.

And Elain with Lucien.

But nothing of it happened.

I enjoyed Nesta’s journey and how she was mated with Cassian. I adore them both.

I know now that there might be another book to this series and I’m here to pour my heart out about how I feel about the story of two of my favorite characters.

💐Elain and Azriel💐

Because I saw lots of fan art declaring Az and Gwyn were kind of endgame. But I disagree.

I’m glad it didn’t end like that.

I know they all are gonna be happy in the end. But I have my biases about it.

I proceed to enlist my reasons to believe why ✨ELRIEL✨ is the right path.

🌹 Let's face the fact that Elain has a trauma after being kidnapped and dropped into the Cauldron. Yes it did served some greater goods like the fact she DID NOT marry that ;d10t whose name I don't even remember. (Ok I do, freaking Grayson) and now the three sisters get to be together for ever. 🥹🫰🏼

But Lucien and Tamlin helped plotting this against Feyre. I still can’t see how this could have made Feyre go back together with Tam but… he was desperate.

And he knew she loved her sisters and would not allow them to be hurt.

Granted, maybe "they didn't know" what the King was capable of but GOD, Elain must be having a hard time forgiving Lucien. Not just because hauling them to the King but because all of his omissions to her sister. I always thought about our lovely Lucien as Tam’s puppet. Like they were in this toxic friendship where Lucien was agreeing to everything Tam said because he would get upset if he didn’t and Lucien was being disloyal to himself just to have Tam content.

🦇While on the other hand Azriel saved her EVERY SINGLE TIME.

😒I remember how Lucien sat there trying to reach through the bond to see if he could tell what was wrong with her and after the most uncomfortable 30 minutes he doesn’t have a clue and Azriel 😍 can tell after 30 seconds Elain is a Seer.

🌿He takes her to the garden and didn’t push her, he just keeps her company. And the fact that he remembers Feyre mentioned Elain’s love for flowers IS SO SO SWEET. 🥹

👒Feyre says they are and I quote “the only civilized ones.” Which means they are so alike. At their first meeting they both try to smooth the mood and end up relaxing around each other.

☯️They are both quiet and introverted but Az is a spymaster, he tortures people and is surrounded by shadows. He feels insecure about his past and his scars and Elain is all sunshine and flowers. Calling him BEAUTIFUL when they arrive at the townhouse, making him blush. BALANCE. They can perfectly complement each other.

🗡️Az hands Elain Truth Teller, and he had never handed it to anybody.

❤️‍🔥After 500 years of Az head over heels for Mor, Cas noticed he no longer looked at her as he used to. AFTER 500 YEARS! What could have happened? What took Az out of his monumental crush on Mor? ELAIN! The answer is ELAIN. 😫😫😫

🤩It would be refreshing if this mating bond didn’t work. My heart squeezed when Az asks Rhys about the Cauldron being wrong about it. How he tried to expose his reasons to believe it doesn’t make sense she was mated to Lucien because his two brothers were mated to the Archeron sisters. And tbh I think the same. Amren said it once, that it was not a coincidence the three sisters were there. And we also have THREE BAT BOYS. Lovely, handsome, always caring BAT BOYS. (I’m not saying Lucien is not all those things but it just makes better sense to me she goes to the other available bat boy).

🍁And it would be more interesting than seeing Lucien being unhappy about Elain's indifference. Their interactions are uncomfortable, FUN but uncomfortable.

🏔️You know what would be SO OFF THE CHARTS?! That we could get to see them trying to make it work between Lucien and Elain. And also Az and Gwyn. Go through the details of how they can make it work fine but there’s still something missing and BOOM, Elain ends up going back to Az because that’s what she truly wants. And what Az wants too.

🌠Rhys said his parents were mates but weren't right for each other.

And don’t worry, Lucien is still got a lot of options for his future love life. He will be happy. Let's just accept the fact that just because they're mates doesn't mean Elain doesn't have a choice.

I don’t owe the fan art. But girlll very accurate.😍😍😍

👒🦇🥀ELRIEL FOR EVER 🦇👒🥀

[writingsbychlo]

How would sexting with modern!azriel go?? I can just imagine him as a lawyer sitting at his desk working on proving a murder wrong and sending him to jail but then his oh so cute girlfriend starts sexting him and he is just there with sweaty palms like 'omg she gonna get it when i go back home"

SOMEONE MAKE THIS A FIC OR HC ILL CRY

not gonna be a whole fic but here’s a few lines on it :)

it would start perfectly innocent, her genuinely sending him a video of various outfits she’s thinking of wearing for their dinner date that night. she knows they’re going to dinner with a client, she wants to look good. except, because they’ve been dating a long time, she doesn’t hesitate to strip in front of the camera to change i to the next one, or to use the camera like a mirror when she leans over to wiggle her boobs to be comfortable in her bra, or to spin and check her own ass out in the image, which of course, brings az’s attention to her tits and ass.

then, at the end of the video, she’d just sigh and flop back onto the bed and say “screw this, maybe I’ll just go naked, really make an impression.” now az is thinking about her naked. not helping. “anyways, let me know which one you liked best, az!”

oh, he’s definitely going to tell you which one he liked. later. he’d text back, saying the blue dress that would match the tie he’s wearing, and would look pretty with the jewellery set he’d surprised you with last month. then he waits. and waits. your text back tells him how much you love that tie on him. the bubble still pops. I love that tie even more on me.

his cock twitches, his pants tighten, because he hadn’t even been thinning about that. but now, he remembers. how it had looked against your skin, sort around your wrists as it’s kept them pinned firmly to the headboard no matter how much you thrashed, hips riding against his face as you squirmed, coming on his tongue until you’d cried. he remembers, now. can practically taste you again.

are you trying to tease me, while I’m at work, my love? how every naughty of you. he’s smirking to himself, he knows where this is going, it isn’t the first time. just like routine, he places his phone down on the desk, changes the status sign on his door to “in a meeting, do not disturb”, locks the office door, pulls the blinds to his high rise windows down. your response is waiting for him by the time he’s slipped one AirPod into his ear and sat back down.

of course not. I’m always good.

my good girl, that’s right. and like a good girl, why don’t you tell me all the things you’d be doing if you were here with me right now.

and that’s how it begins. driving azriel crazy when you answer the phone, softly telling him everything you’d do to him with your mouth, things that make his fingers clench the arm supports of his chair til he can’t take it anymore and touches himself. things that make his grip tighten, his breath shallow, his movements speed up. things that make him choke out a curse when he hears a tell-take hum start at your end of the line and the way your breathing suddenly becomes desperate gasps if his name. he guides you through it, voice getting husky, telling you exactly how to use the toy as though it were him. he cums when you do, spilling all over his hand when he hears you cry out his name, and he soothes you through the after shock, mumbling about how much he loves you, how good you are.

it’s not enough. even after he’s hung up, cleaned himself up, tried to get back to work. it’s not enough. so, when he walks out of work that night, and sees you leaning happily against his car in the parking lot, waiting, his heart clenches in his chest. you’d got a taxi here just for him, so you could drive to the restaurant together. it does something to him. then he takes in the dress, the blue dress, and his eyes drop to his own tie for a second. when he reaches you, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, mumbling how beautiful you look tonight. he opens your door for you. the doors to the back. because you can always be a little late the reservation, blame it on traffic, right?

[krem-does-stuff]

World's dumbest spymaster

Azriel / Eris 

Summary:  The way in which Azriel's family learns about his relationship with Eris is not exactly the way he envisioned it.

Word count: 2068

Warnings: none

Notes: English is not my first language so if you see the dumbest possible mistakes ever please tell me.

Read on AO3

Being Night Court's spymaster was a profession with an abundance of stressful situations but Azriel cannot recall anything more stressful in the last couple of centuries than having Eris visiting Velaris for Winter Solstice.

What is worse it was Azriel's idea to invite him and he wonders what were he fucking thinking when he proposed this to Rhysand and Feyre a few weeks ago.

He probably thought, rather idiotically, that the opportunity was so easy it would be a sin not to take it. Azriel was invited to Autumn for Autumn Equinox, where he helped Eris to orchestrate Beron’s very sudden and very deadly demise. Now it was politically excusable to invite a new High Lord of Autumn to celebrate his new reign and flaunt an alliance between courts.

It's clear to him now that he was thinking solely with his cock when he came up with that idea.

He dramatically miscalculated how hard it will be to hide his relationship with Eris in front of his whole fucking family. Hiding it for the last few months has been easy. All their trysts were taking place only in Autumn, where Eris as the High Lord could do whatever he fucking wanted and no one dared to question him. Here, in Velaris, with the whole of his drunken family present and ogling Eris like a new quirky thing, feigning disinterest in his own lover is a new kind of hell.

Eris looks magnificent in his festive well fitted jacket and carefully arranged hair. Alluring. Devastatingly handsome. Absolutely delectable. And Azriel is forced to stand far from him and pretend he doesn't want to pounce him. Convincing his shadows to stay beside him instead of curling around Eris's nimble fingers or slim wrists or freckled ears is a torture. Keeping distance is literally painful.

But he will do it. He will endure it and mope in the corner because sooner or later everyone will scatter and finally he will be alone with Eris. Having him here, in his house, or almost his anyways as House of Wind is technically Cassian's and Nesta's now, for the first time since they started sleeping together is filling him with much more tender feelings that he cares to examine.

So he endures and endures, Eris's brilliant smiles to people that are not him, Rhysand's carefully maintained mask of politeness donned to mingle with other High Lord, Feyre's excessive interest, Cassian's a little too artificial cordiality, Mor's pouting, Amren's snide comments bordering on being rude.

He's a fucking spymaster, he can wait forever.

So he's waiting until the party ends, until everyone's gone to their homes or to their rooms, and then he waits some more, just to be sure. And only when his shadows report that the House of Wind is immaculately silent he dares to go to Eris's designated guest room, on the way hidden in shadows just to be double fucking sure.

And then he makes Eris to put up insane lot of wards so no one will overhear them, just to be triple fucking sure, which is for the best, because Eris is not very prone to being silent when he has Azriel's cock up his ass.

And it was worth it. It was worth everything to have Eris here, in his home, in his arms, where he can pretend they are normal couple that doesn't have to hide in fear of estrangement or exile or wherever form of punishment Rhys and Feyre might come up with when they learn he is sleeping with someone who's essentially an enemy in all things that matter. Having other High Lord on festives in their court might be fine and dandy until they learn that this same High Lord is fucking their spymaster.

That night when he falls asleep, tangled with freckled covered limbs, with auburn hair ticking his nose, he thinks that he never felt as much at home as he feels now.

What wakes him up, regrettably, isn't a blowjob from Eris. It's an offensive knocking.

"Az?" Cassian's voice is muffled through the door or maybe it's his brain that is still dulled from sleep. The sun only just started to rise and this was the deepest and calmest sleep he had in centuries. In the House of Wind, where he feels completely safe, magnified tenfold by the comforting presence of Eris in his arms.

"Yeah?" he tries to sound like he's not guilty of having a secret lover by his side.

"Do you by any chance have someone in your bed?"

Azriel looks at sleep rumpled Eris rousing to sit and peering at him warily. He wants to tell them. He wants them to know. Most of all he wants them to accept it. To accept Eris. But he's not so hopelessly naive as to confuse his longings with reality.

"No," he replies with as much conviction as he can muster at this hour.

"You are in my room you moron," Eris grumbles and Azriel's world shatters around him like the finest china.

He forgot he's in Eris's room, not his own. He shouldn't have responded to Cassian calling his name. How could he possibly be so dumb? Rhysand should fire him as Prythian's dumbest spymaster. Rhysand might fire him anyway, why would he want a spymaster that presumably spills all the secrets in the ear of his high lordly, other courtly lover?

There's a bit of deafening silence where his heart threatens to breach his chest and then he swears he can hear Cassian snicker behind the closed door.

"Are you decent? Can I come in?"

"No." Azriel hopes the answer is sufficient for both questions but Cassian opens the door anyway and behold the view in front of him: both of them sitting naked on the bed, the rumpled sheets barely covering their legs and hips, Eris's hair mussed, traces of pillow on his cheek.

Azriel feels all of his muscles tensing in anticipation but he doesn't see any disgust or hatred on Cassian's face. Strangely there's only amusement.

"I came to ask if you want to bring Eris to our annual snowball fight."

"Your what?" Eris asks dumbfounded while Azriel is still having a stroke over the reveal.

"Snowball fight. You know, throwing snow at each other?"

"Throwing snow at each other," Eris repeats dumbly which is really unbefitting of a sharp tongued Autumn royal but Azriel is definitely not in the state to mock him for it.

"Yeah, we do this every year after the Solstice. Me, Rhys and Azriel. Lots of fun, you should join."

It's not possible that they have a discussion about fucking snowball fight in the face of this revelation. Its too fucking surreal.

"You're not going to comment on-" Azriel's hand is moving between him and Eris like this explains what's between them better than words which are suddenly stuck in his throat.

"Sure I am." Cassian's voice is unexplainably full of mirth. "Nice abs," he's throwing in Eris's general direction and Azriel bristles instantly.

It's wrong for Cassian to look so freely at his lover's private body parts. He shifts in bed so his torso is partially shielding Eris's nakedness and Cassian snickers again, this time unapologetically in their faces.

"You really thought you could hide something like this from us?"

Azriel really, really thought exactly that.

"It was obvious there was something between you two after your last mission in Autumn. Every meeting since you were looking at him like he was a piece of fresh meat."

Azriel is reasonably sure he only looks at Eris like that in the confines of their private rooms.

"Rhys had an idea to invite Eris here for Solstice in hopes that it will prompt you to finally spill the beans."

"Inviting Eris was my idea."

"Sure it was."

It must be a dream. There's no other logical explanation. But Eris's body seems very real and warm where it touches his under the covers and Cassian also looks like a very real, albeit unwelcome, apparition.

"Does everybody know?"

"All the inner circle, yeah."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why didn't you tell us?" Cassian replies smoothly which promptly shuts Azriel up. He was so afraid. He expected so many things in reaction, none of which was... this.

He's not sure what he should say now. Should he apologize for not trusting them with this? With the truth about himself? Should he say thank you? Thank you for not condemning me for my preferences. For whom I choose to lo-

The L word strucks him unexpectedly and shuts up even his inner thoughts.

"So, what do you say, Eris? Up for a little challenge in the snow?" Cassian is definitely getting too comfortable standing in the doorway, leaning carefree on the frame, talking and smiling like nothing changed, like the world didn't reorient itself on its axis.

"You want me to go and tumble in the snow with all three of you illyrian brutes?"

"Also with Lucien. I might have spontaneously invited him too yesterday."

Judging from the expression on his face Eris doesn't find this as adequate incentive as Cassian thought.

"And we go to the birchin after, you know, to sweat a bit, naked."

"Excuse me?" Eris brows go ever higher than at the mention of the annual snowball fight.

"Absolutely not!" Azriel interrupts, all hackles raised, before Cassian can repeat what he said with even more smug expression. There is NO scenario in which Eris will be seated naked in front of his brothers. In front of anybody, ever. His nakedness is Azriel's and Azriel's only to see.

"Think about it." Cassian has the audacity to wink and then he quickly leaves before Azriel can thoroughly and painfully explain to him what he thinks about this idea.

"You really sit with them naked, every year, with no other reason than 'to sweat'?"

Of all things he thought he would be discussing with Eris after their ruse had fallen, sitting naked with his brothers somehow was not one he anticipated.

"You don't have saunas in Autumn?"

"We have. I remember spending time in them with my previous lovers though, not with my naked brothers."

Azriel definitely doesn't want to hear or remember about Eris's past lovers. More importantly he doesn't want Eris to remember them. And he really, really wishes to never hear the phrase 'naked brothers' again.

"Forget the birchin. We are not going there."

"Why not?" Eris's eyes are full of cunning flames. "I heard all of the Illyrians have large... wingspans. And I have only you to confirm it. It might be my only chance to see with my own eyes-"

Azriel hits Eris in the face with his pillow before he can continue this horrendous topic which magically manages to get more and more horrible with every passing second. After a little afterthought he removes the pillow and replaces it with his own lips sealed on Eris's lips in hopes that it will erase the idea of thinking about his brother's dicks.

The only dick Eris should think about should be Azriel's.

"You fretted so much over telling them and he didn't seem even a little disappointed," Eris manages to say in between kisses.

"You sound disappointed yourself now."

"I expected at least a very dramatic fight. Maybe a little blackmail. Some emotional manipulation. Not Cassian propositioning me to sit with him naked."

"Can we please abandon the topic of sitting naked with anyone?"

"You sound jealous."

"I am jealous."

He probably shouldn't have said that. Do they even do jealousy? Are they at the phase of the relationship where he can be possessive? He's trying to imagine being able to casually put his arm over Eris's shoulders so everyone can see they are together but his brain short-circuits.

"You are going to be insufferable now when you can show everyone in your home that I'm yours aren't you?"

Eris says it in a very matter of factly way and Azriel's heart joins his brain in a short-circuit party.

"Say that again," he doesn't exactly beg but it's a close call.

"Which part?" The burning smugness is back in Eris's eyes.

"You know which part."

Eris raises his hand ever so slowly and puts it on Azriel's face, thumb grazing the cheekbone in the softest display of emotions he ever did.

"I'm yours," he says.

And Azriel believes him.

part 2

[azsazz]

Leisurely

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Anonymous request: Request in which reader falls asleep on him 🥺 like in the daytime so he doesn’t move and maybe the bat boys see it and az is shushing them

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 862

___________________________________________

“Hey you,” a soothing voice greets as you enter the room. He’s lounging on a plush couch looking oh-so comfortable, a book balanced on his chest. 

You hum in greeting, too tired to actually form words. You had gotten back late from scouting the Day Court border – a menial task, but one you took seriously – and woke up early to catch a quick training session with Cassian. 

You’d thought about skipping it, but you had a strict regimen for yourself and you weren’t about to break that now.

The bath you had taken after practice nearly put you to sleep, the hot water relaxing your aching muscles, worries ebbing from your brain. The spectacular scents wafting from the candles and various soaps was just as calming. 

All you were missing was your mate.

Opening his arms you fall into him, immediately curling up close, head against his chest. Your hand snakes underneath his shirt, seeking his warmth. You sigh with relief as he places a gentle kiss into your hair. 

“Continue your reading,” you hum, “Don’t mind me.”  

His body shakes with silent laughter and you squeeze him tighter to make him stop. Azriel’s heart is a steady beat in your ear and everything else around you seems to fade away. 

You loved getting to be with him like this, it wasn’t like when the both of you had started sleeping together, keeping it as secretive as you could, letting your relationship blossom on it’s own. It reminded you of the early days when he’d come around to your place after working late, slipping into your bed silently as you read, waiting for him. He’d place his head in your lap and the two of you sat in comfortable silence, just being. 

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you stir to the sound of voices, your mate shushing the newcomers. 

“Awe Az,” Cassian coos, “It’s nice seeing you like this, not all brooding all the time.” The Shadowsingers chest rumbles underneath you, baring his teeth. He covers you with his shadows, trying to block the sounds.

You’re still heavy with sleep, content with staying here pressed up against your mate forever, even if the couch isn't as comfortable as your bed.  

“Leave us alone,” Azriel replies, nearly a groan. His arm around your waist holds you that much closer. He had finished his book a half an hour ago and spent the time admiring your beauty. He hadn’t dared move, cherishing spending any amount of time with you whether you were asleep or not.

He gently thumbs over your cheek before settling his hand over your ear and the conversation goes quiet. You can hear his soothing voice as he speaks from where your head is placed on his chest, but are unable to make out the words, both because you’re on the brink of falling asleep again or because he’s talking too softly.

“Azriel,” Rhysand tuts. His heart is bursting with happiness for his brother, knowing how long and how patient he has been waiting for this moment. All those years of watching him struggle, how the Spymaster tried to hide his feelings whenever he saw his friends in love with their mates. It had been worth the wait.

You had been worth the wait.

“Rhysand,” the Shadowsinger mimics with a pointed glare at the two Illyrians by the door, “This is why houses have locks, you know.”

The High Lord turns towards the general next to him, head cocked and brows furrowed, “Did you know that Cass?”

“No,” the taller warrior muses, eyes flickering with laughter, “I don’t think I did.”

“Mother above,” the Shadowsinger mutters under his breath as the two sputter out laughs. He vows to himself to find someone to put wards around his own home as soon as they leave.

“Az,” you mumble sleepily and they’ve really done it now. Woken you up for no good reason. Your body is still lax against your mates and you don’t even open his eyes when he replies quietly, “Yeah love?”

“Tell Cassian to shut his fat mouth, some of us are trying to sleep.” And Azriel bites his lip harshly, but is unable to keep the grin from his face as the Warlord’s mouth falls open, first in shock, then offended. His body shakes with laughter and you crack a smile.

“Why is it always me?” the crimson-siphon clad man cries, wounded.

“Become High Lord and people will keep your name out of their mouths,” Rhysand says, clapping his friend on his shoulder, half-smug, half in apology. You send him a lazy thumbs up that causes the Night Court King to chuckle, pushing Cassian towards the door. “Sorry to disturb you (Y/N), sleep well.” 

“I’m working you twice as hard in training tomorrow for that comment,” the Warlord calls over his shoulder as Rhysand drags him out. The door shuts loudly behind him, but you and Azriel can still hear him until they take to the skies.

You puff out a laugh, squinting open your eyes to look at your mate, a crooked grin on your face. “Good thing I’m not planning on going to training tomorrow.”

[redheadspark]

Affirmations and Affectiond prompt ❝  come here,  come sit in my lap and tell me about your day.  ❞ with Azriel x Reader? Maybe the Reader thinks Azriel doesn’t want to know abt her day because he has spy duties but he totally does??

A/N: Ahhh The return of my batboy

Just For A Moment

Summary: Your mate was a busy spymaster for Night Court, and the last thing you ever wanted to do was be a bother. But your mate won't allow that at all on his watch.

Warnings: Very small angst but mostly fluff

Your mate was at the very place you left him earlier that day, in his office perched at the desk buried in a massive stack of paperwork.

Azriel was always busy, you knew that when you met and were married. Your mate was the spy for Night Court, he has been for centuries long before you two met. HIs job was stressful, important, and massive to no be lenient on. Yet it was not a big thin in your mind when you two were mated and married, knowing that half of his time would be at the mercy of High Lord Rhysand and what he needed from Azriel.

In fact, the entire Inner Circle worked day and night for him and made sure Velaris was safe and away from any kind of danger. Being the Spy's mate, you were part of the Inner Circle. They all loved you when Azriel introduced you to them the eve of Starfall, Mor and Armen jokingly saying that you would finally get Azriel to settle down. Yet it was Cassian who made the small joke.

"Sorry to say he's married to his job already. You're gonna have to compete with that,"

Since then, you made your place in Azriel's heart and life. You two found your own home, a few blocks away from the Townhouse were most of the Inner Circle meetings were held. You two had a smaller place, more quaint for the pair of you that you made as homey as possible. But Azriel was still knee deep in work, going over borders along Velaris, going to visits in other Courts to keep up appearances, and checking in on the Illryian army that Cassian was training. You bit your tongue, not wanting to sound like a nagging wife. But there were moments as time went on that you felt very alone. He would leave early in the morning and come home late at night when you were fast asleep. There were even times when he was gone for days on end, making you worry about him and think of the worst.

He found you one day out in the garden, sitting in a chair with a book in your hands but you weren't reading it. Your mind was elsewhere, a sure sign that something was wrong in his mind since he knew you love reading in the garden in the afternoon. You didn't know it, but Mor pulled Azriel aside at the House of Wind earlier that day to tell him about what you were feeling. You vented to her a few times, saying it was hard to not see him throughout the day and to barely get any time with him. When More told him, Azriel felt terrible, beyond terrible. He did not realize the loneliness that was strumming at your mating bond, it was dull but growing as the days came and went.

He knelt down in front of you, his wings tucked away to not be seen as he took the book from your hands and cradled your hands in his own scarred palms. You saw his hazel eyes look longingly at you, the pain there on his face as he took in a long breath. "I didn't mean to neglect you," He said to you softly, the worry was laced in his tone and felt in his hands, "I was so wrapped up and busy and....I can feel it in our bond. I left you alone, didn't I?"

You said nothing, but the look you were giving you was enough for him to know the answer. Azriel sighed, sounding like he was in pain as he lowered his head into your lap. It was a sure sign of defeat and surrender in his mind, you've ever seen him do such a thing ever. He was always strong, willing to fight and win. Now to see the Spymaster for Night Court, a killer and defender of Velaris, kneeling in front of you to show his vulnerable side and mercy, it moved you.

You leaned forward, pressing your head into his hair and wrapping your arms around his head as a shield while his hands moved to slip around your waist. You two held each other for some time under the cherry blossom tree, feeling the petals touch you like rain as you felt him promise through the bond to never neglect you again. He kept his promise. Now, you peered into his office and saw him going though paper after paper. You bit your lower lip, wishing to tell him all that you did that day since it was more exciting for you. Sure you had other duties with the Inner Circle, you were helping plan communities and charity auctions around Velaris to raise money for the poor and needy. You loved the charity work, even helping High Lady Feyre with the homeless shelter and the community center.

Yet once again he was buried in work, which was no surprising then there were whispers about Autumn Court and a meeting that as going to be held soon. Azriel has gotten a lot better in leaving work at the doorstep when he came home, he made sure of that for years after your talk in the garden. You could see the change in him too, the color in his cheeks and the restful nights in your arms. He would talk to you late in the night in bed about anything and everything on both of your minds, taking you to dinner on your date nights to get out of the house, and lastly he made sure you two spend Sunday afternoons in the garden under the cherry blossom tree, that very space you two swore you would grow together. "Hey," You heard from the office, you were about to walk away and leave him be. Azriel was looking at you, moving up and away from the desk to walk over to you by the door. You just smiled, seeing him grin widely at you awhile you shook your head.

"You're busy, I'll tell you later.." You trailed off, but he shook his head and took your hands in his own immediately.

"No, I need a break anyways," he said in a grin, pulling you into his office and near his chair. You went willingly, seeing him sit back down but push the chair back a bit to make room, "Come here, come sit in my lap and tell me about your day. I wanna hear everything, even just for a moment,"

You just smiled, looking down very briefly at the slight belly that was showing under your dress. He looked too, resting his hand against the belly and almost melting from the feeling. All for his work that he was putting in was worth it, the hours of him being away for the last few months or so were merely to make room for the time he would spend with you, and with your future child that was growing inside of you. Finally, you slipped into his lap and felt his arms around your waist.

"I...I made the nursery up today," You said softly, his eyes were still on your belly as you went on, "Most of it is finished but I haven't chosen a color for the walls yet. I'm thinking maybe blue like the river near the River House. Oh, and the community shelter is ready for new rooms since we're growing in numbers and....."

You told him all about your day and he waited on bated breath, not loosing his concentration for a moment. It felt sacred in those minutes with him, nothing to distract him or keep him away from you. There was something about that day under the cherry blossoms that made everything change, made your marriage change. All that you both knew was that you were going to make it work. Not just for the sake of your unborn baby, but for your lives together.

The End.

[nikethestatue]

I have this Headcanon that Elain and Azriel come together quietly, without any fanfare and in line with their characters.

Azriel, fed up with Nessian sex noises and arguments, and just wanting some peace and quiet, one night flies around Velaris and then it dawns on him that the townhouse is sitting empty. So, without telling anyone, he just makes it his home base. He is evasive as usual when they ask him, and is able to convince both Rhys and Cassian that he is living with one of them at their homesteads, interchangeably. 

He is a man of few needs, and the townhouse seems unoccupied even with him there. 

Then, Elain, fed up with Feysand sex noises and Nyx crying and everything else going on, and not wanting to play second banana all the time, recalls that that townhouse is unoccupied. So one evening, she sneaks out and goes there. The house is empty, nothing seems out of place. But as she makes her way through it, she notices a few odd things--a couple of daggers laying out in the open, a mug, which she could’ve sworn was Azriel’s, his scent permeating the air. But she chucks it off to her own obsession with him, and to her thinking about him constantly. 

So she makes it up the stairs and prepares for bed in her old bedroom. His scent is even stronger here, but she finds it comforting and pleasant. She slips under the covers and feels, for once, like she is home. The room is cosy. The bed is comfortable and familiar. And it smells like Azriel. She falls asleep without any issues for the first time in ages.

Azriel, naturally, has been sleeping in Elain’s bedroom. The room is cosy. The bed is comfortable and familiar. And it smells like Elain. He is tired after a mission and just wants to slide under the covers and bury his face in the pillows and smell the scent of her body. Here, he’s been sleeping well.

He opens the door and is stopped in his tracks because there she is. Asleep. In his bed. In her bed. In their bed. He doesn’t know why and how, and he doesn’t care. He is too emotionally drained to fight this any longer. So he undresses and climbs in bed with her. They sleep, together, peacefully and soundly. When he wakes up, much later than usual, Elain is next to him, hands tucked under her cheek, watching him. 

“Welcome home,” she says.

And he is. Home.

And from that day on, the townhouse smells of bread. And roses.

[mmvalentine]

Lover Like Me pt 14 (epilogue) | Feysand

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

The next year blurs by and I swear I couldn’t even tell you what we filled it with. We just hazed through, the way that you get to the end of summer vacation drunk on long days and the absence of school bells and wonder where the time went.

I can tell you that we moved house, not immediately but eventually, and not very far. Rhys wanted to stay close to the garage, after all. In fact, none of us live in the Velaris blocks anymore, and no, Rhys didn’t buy a house for each of them. His father was wealthy but not that wealthy. He did buy the auto shop though, and start paying an actual living wage once he fired the old manager, and wouldn’t you know it, the guys all started renting decent places once they could afford it.

Mor moved closer to the beach and met a girl at one of Helion’s extravagant parties. Azriel’s got a slick city apartment with a view, and Cassian’s shifted toward the mountains and living his best lumberjack life. They all commute but no one’s complaining.

I often think back on the time we all lived together with great fondness, but I know for the others, painful memories still live there, and we’ve never been back. I don’t mind at all, because I’m home wherever Rhys is.

And Rhys is here, in a house of our very own, and he’s magnificent.

Out from the shadows of his violent father’s past and his dead mother’s house, Rhys is a force to be reckoned with. Business is booming, we go on trips most weekends, and I’ve never heard him laugh so loud. And coming home to him every day is a luxury that simultaneously feels like I’ve been doing it forever, and like I’ll never get used to the thrill of it.

It’s not a giant house, but there’s the loveliest rose and lilac garden out the front, and French doors on the second floor to the balcony that Rhys built. We have a bedroom with a skylight, which he cleans every weekend because he loves to look at the stars. It has a study we converted into an art studio for me, with shelves all along the wall to hold all my supplies. There’s a spare bedroom that is always made up- it was important to both of us our friends could stay with us whenever they wanted or needed to. And it has a garage where Rhys keeps his bike and also a beautiful vintage Bentley that he’s restoring in his spare time.

Rhys runs the shop better than Amarantha ever did, and now that she’s gone the guys actually like going to work. I visit sometimes, bring by boxes of pizza when they work late not because they have to but because they’re enjoying each other’s company. Pepperoni for Azriel, cheese for mor, mushroom for Rhys, and four of whatever there’s four of for Cassian. They wipe black grease off their hands and laugh with their mouths full, and now movie nights happen less frequently but we put a projector in the garage and every month or so we watch on a wall-sized screen.

Sometimes it’s just Rhys who’s stayed back, slumped in the office over the books that were never his favourite part of the job. On those days I feed him Irish tea and chocolate biscuits, and when his blood sugars are revived, we make love on the desk, where I have a perfect view of a certain painting that hangs on the wall and remains my most abstract piece to date.  

As for me, my rent situation may be taken care of, but I will never not have my own bank account again. I’ve earned myself a permanent spot in Tarquin’s gallery by maintaining the highest selling rate of any of his resident artists. It’s not quite enough that I’ve quit my job at the art store, but I’m getting closer. Hey, maybe one day I’ll outgrow Tarquin and open a gallery of my own.

I’m telling you, my life is perfect.

Not because we never fight- amongst the brilliant days there are sad ones, when Rhys is full of trauma and fury and grief, and just because most of the time I know how to bring him back doesn’t mean it always works, or that I always have the energy to do it, or that he always wants me to.

But because he chooses me every damn day, even when I have nightmares about blonde haired men and I kick him in my sleep, even when I have unreasonable expectations that he will read my mind and then get upset that he hasn’t correctly anticipated my needs, and even when he works late and I’ve stayed up painting and we’re both cranky and snappy and rude.

And because I choose him back, just as many times.

And that- I wouldn’t trade that for the world, not for a thousand days of serenity, not for a million dry-eyed nights.

Still, it’s not the fights and the slow, painful healing that I want to replay over and over.

It’s days like today.

When I wake slow in the early morning light with Rhys’s lips on my ankle.

The alarm is set for seven, which is when we wanted to get up and get on the road. Our bags are packed and Rhys’s motorcycle is clean and full of fuel, and there are hours of mountain trails waiting for us to lose ourselves in their alpine embrace.

Yet here is Rhys with a kiss that moves slowly up the side of my calf.

And he’s usually such a stickler for a schedule.

I moan softly without opening my eyes. It’s warm and soft in our bed, and I’ve never been one to rise easy from slumber. Rhys’s tongue hits the corner of my knee, his teeth nip at the inside of my thigh, while the rough of his hands trace the journey his lips have just made. I twitch a little when his mouth lands at the join of my leg and my hip, although my limbs are still so heavy. Then the heat of his breath hits my underwear as he kisses the fabric between my legs, and my back arches up to his touch as if lifted by this string of static that starts in my stomach and ends in the apex of my thighs.

“Good morning, lover,” Rhys whispers, and then his mouth is otherwise occupied.

He pushes my underwear to the side and then it’s the flat of his tongue from pussy to clit. I gasp at the first touch, and then my panties are slid off my legs and I’m kissed on the sharp parts of my hips and the soft parts of my inner thighs and over my bare pussy again. I’m only half-way awake but I’m drowning in something sweeter than sleep as he laps me up and eats me alive. The minutes slide by but Rhys has all the time in the world as he flicks his tongue against me over and over again, winding me slowly round and round his little finger like a spool of thread. It’s not difficult; I’m always his.

His hands slide flat from my hips to my belly to my breasts, and all the while his lips are loving me. His mouth moves slow and dirty and sure. I’m rocking myself onto his tongue, the pleasure is a fog around me, and when he gets my nipples between his fingers, I tip my head back and moan just like he likes.

I could have happily passed the day like this, but my waking dream is cut through my the too-bright ring of my phone alarm.

At first, we ignore it, but of course the stubborn thing rings on and on. I groan in protest when Rhys gets up, but then the silence is restored and Rhys comes back to me and is settling his body over mine. His fingers lace through my fingers, and my hands are swept up and pinned above my head. He’s heavy and hard and as he rolls his hips into me, I’m mollified.

“Sleep well, honey?” Rhys’s voice is husky and low, and I don’t know how he expects me to answer when he’s grinding into me as he speaks. My eyes roll back and my hips lift to meet his, and the dark chuckle that issues from above me is as smug as a Cheshire cat. He kisses me then, sweeping his tongue deep into my mouth to make sure that I can taste myself on him like when he fucks me but finishes in my throat. The memory evoked is so filthy I’m turned on even more, and I start moving up against him looking for friction between my legs.

Rhys obliges me, driving his hips forward and kissing me deeper. I’m fairly sure I could come just from dry-humping this man, but he’s not going to let that happen. I’m rubbing up against his erection and building into a little rhythm that’s getting me where I want to go, and then just when I get to that floating place Rhys shoves his waistband down and pushes inside me.

I’m stretched out faster than expected and Rhys is sliding into me and by the time the tightness eases I’m coming on his cock.

It’s that easy.

And if there’s one enduring thing about us, about our relationship, it’s that it’s easy. It’s so easy and even when it’s difficult and when it sucks it’s easy and that’s why I love him. Or maybe because I love him. I love him so fucking much and I wouldn’t believe that someone so good would love me back except that he tells me all the fucking time and my head has gotten so big with it I wonder how I get in the front door sometimes.

And so here I am, early in the morning with no thoughts in my head and I’m coming hard while Rhys is all the way inside me and then when I’m back in control of my body I fuck him back until he comes, too.

On Sunday night, we’ll get back from our trip and we’ll unpack.

We’ll carry our bags in on tired legs and when I sit down and start unlacing my boots Rhys will look distracted. He’ll start picking through our belongings and I’ll ask him what he’s looking for.

“I’m just looking for… I could have sworn…”

“What, Rhys?” I’ll ask.

“It’s just, it was right here, can you look in your bag?”

“Look for what?” I’ll ask again, even as I start rifling through my backpack, searching for something I don’t know the name of.

“It’s so small, it could have fallen out.”

“Fuck’s sake Rhys, what am I looking for?”

“It’s the black box, you know the one.”

I don’t know the one, and I’ll get annoyed as Rhys continues to be vague while he shoves his hands in the pockets of our discarded leather jackets.

“Would you just look?” Rhys will say, and I’ll start getting mad that he’s sounding frustrated with me when he’s not communicating properly, so when my fingers close around a foreign object I’ll shake it at him.

“Here, is this what you’re looking for?”

“I don’t know, open it.”

I’ll roll my eyes and snap open the little velvet case, and my anger will instantly evaporate because inside will be the most perfect sapphire and diamond ring I’ve ever seen. I’ll be in shock, I’ll look up at Rhys but he’ll be down on one knee with his violet eyes so bright I can hardly stand it.

“Feyre,” he’ll say, and then he’ll swallow because he’s getting choked up. “Feyre from the moment I met you…”

“Yes,” I’ll breathe, and he’ll laugh.

“Feyre, I never thought-”

“Yes,” I’ll interrupt again.

“I didn’t think someone like me-”

“YES,” I’ll yell, and I’ll fall to the floor before him and try to kiss his stupidly gorgeous face, but he won’t let me until he can at least get the question out.

‘Feyrewillyoumarryme?!” he’ll shout, and then he’ll fall backward because I’ve flung myself at him and I’ve covering him with kisses and ‘yes’s.

And then the studio door will burst open and Mor, Cassian and Azriel will be exploding out from their hiding place and dog-piling on to us, and I’ll barely be able to breathe from laughing and crying and being crushed by these goobers, whom I love so very much.

But that will be on Sunday.

Today, we are naked in bed.

And I hope that this is the way he remembers me always, when we’re old and wrinkled and grey. I hope he remembers buckling a helmet under my chin before we get on his motorcycle, I hope he remembers my arms around his waist as we ride. I hope he remembers living in this house, now, with me, before dogs and kids and mess and whatever else he wants in our future. But most of all I hope that he remembers being this deep inside of me while we move, keeping pace with our matching heart beats, with nothing but time and thoughts of being loved, and being a lover.

***

The end, at long last.

My loves. Thank you for being with me in this story, it is the longest one I've written by far (like more than triple the length of The Bargain) and it has been such a joy to hang out with you guys along the way. I really appreciate everyone who read and shared and reblogged!! I will miss you, please dont be strangers ❤️❤️❤️

MASTERLIST

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[nestasgalpal]

Can you do a A Gwynriel one shot where Az is drunk and tired. Gwyn takes care of him and takes him to bed. He doesn’t want to sleep. She reads him a bed time story. It’s Peter Pan. Hes so In love with Gwyn. He can’t stop touching her hair and tracing her freckles. He can’t stop saying her name just to hear it. He keeps urging her to talk to hear her voice. He makes her lay down and sleep with him. He can’t stop marveling at her red hair.

Yes!!! But just so we are clear, I'm sticking with the roommates thing because the friends to lovers trope is my favorite for them.

Nesta’s Gal Pal masterlist | AO3

The empty apartment

Somehow, he had found his way back home all on his own. Muscle memory was the one to thank for his arrival at the apartment in the middle of the night, when every street looked the same to his barely opened eyes. On top of everything, Azriel was angry —or was he confused? No, he was definitely mad at his coordination, which had been nowhere to be seen in the last hours. It had left him to fend for himself as he swallowed the fifth glass of amber liquid, and never came back.

If the place was in complete darkness or if he was the one with his eyes closed, Azriel didn't know. He stumbled to his room, pushing on his way a very ungrateful lamp that attacked him out of nowhere.

"Get the fuck out." He mumbled as he made sure it learned its lesson.

Quietly, Azriel tried to push his bedroom door open, but it didn't obey. He pushed again, feeling that simmering anger fighting for control of his body. "If you don't let me in right now, I'm letting it win", he threatened. His head weighted nothing and too much at the same time, so, why not, Azriel rested it against the wood as he gave it another push. He screamed for all he was worth, but quietly.

A ball of fire manifested by his side, wrapping him in its warmth. His anger had come to help him fight his strongest enemy to this day.

"Az?"

It was not his anger, it was just Gwyn. How could he not recognize her? Her hand taking his cooled down the tangle of mixed feelings in his guts, reassuring him with her mere presence and smoothing the situation. With his forehead still against the door, he smiled at her. Azriel breathed Gwyn's scent, and suddenly the door not opening for him wasn't as important anymore.

"You will help me, right?" he asked Gwyn. But he didn't need to. He was certain Gwyn would think of something to unlock the entrance to his bedroom. She was smart like that.

"Come here." She pulled his hand, urging him to step back. Then she grabbed the door handle, and pulled it as well. It opened.

Even doors are scared of her.

"Let's take you to bed. I want to have at least one piece of furniture intact in the morning."

Az sought her eyes, but she wasn't looking at him, so he could only marvel at the brightness of her copper hair in the dim candlelight. His eyes then travelled to their intertwined hands. Her grip was tight, as if she didn't mind the scars all over them. He hated how they looked, always had. But it didn't make sense to be the only one worrying, so Az decided he didn't mind the ugly marks of his once tore skin either.

"The lamp started the fight. It wouldn't move, and I needed to pass by." He explained.

"Of course." Gwyn didn't believe him. She might think her lying voice was good enough, but Azriel was a Spymaster.

Even after countless drinks, he could tell when people lied to him. When they tried to fool him, or manipulate his mind. She doesn't know I know, he thought. But I know everything. "I know everything." He said aloud.

"Good for you, Az."

Gwyn was taking him to his bed, and Azriel let her work to take his boots off, and unbutton his shirt. He took it off himself, knowing undressing a male would make her uncomfortable. He wasn't drunk enough to forget his manners. Unless he was of course facing the door. His hatred towards it was so much not even the alcohol would save it from being unhinged and hurled into the Sidra first thing in the morning.

"We will need a screwdriver, though." Her eyebrows were knitted together. Did she not understand? Nah, Gwyn understood everything. She also knew how to read his every thought. It was something else. She was worried. Does she worry about me? In a way, Azriel hoped she did. "Don't. I will do the work. You only have to find the screwdriver for me, hon, because I can't see a thing."

The room was in complete darkness again, and not even her beautiful hair was visible now. Open, he commanded his eyelids. But nothing happened.

"The only thing you need is a good night of sleep. Things will be clearer in the morning" she promised.

"I don't wanna go to seep."

She clicked her tongue. Her scent was intoxicating. Azriel didn't need eyes to know she was right beside him, sitting on the bed. He might be blind, but every other sense was painfully aware of her. Her soft touch on his wrist, the melody of her voice lingering in the air. The bittersweet taste of her kindness, when they both knew he was not worthy of it. Not when he had absolutely crushed and humiliated that ugly lamp someone had gifted him years ago, and Gwyn had dusted that very morning. She must be so mad at me.

Stretching his arm in her direction, sure with every fiber of his body of where her head was, Az caressed her hair. It was tied in a messy bun, and his fingers tugged the ribbon keeping it in place to free her mane.

Open your eyes, he commanded himself again. Because if he missed that view, Azriel would never forgive himself. She was a vision, illuminated by a few candles and nothing else, her hair did look like fire. And he would gladly dance with it. Dance, and twirl within it, since her flames could never burn him.

Twisting a lock around one finger, Azriel realize he was the luckiest male in the world. No one else could see her like this. See her beauty in such an intimate scene. "You are so beautiful, Gwyn."

"Az... You are wasted. If you don't sleep, you will regret it in the morning." She insisted.

"I would never regret spending a night awake looking at you." His hands drifted to her cheekbone, the bridge of her nose. Gwyn didn't flinch away, so he kept tracking every freckle, making sure he remembered the exact location of each, and none had escaped since the last time he got lost looking at them. She was silent now, her eyes closed. "Please, keep talking." He begged, more than asked.

Moving to one side, he left enough room for her to lay down beside him in bed. "Do you want me to tell you a bedtime story?"

Say anything. Tell me everything. Azriel was unsure if he had said it aloud or this time his pathetic whimpers had remained a thought. "You are so beautiful, Gwyn." He never allowed himself to voice it, but he thought about it every day. Azriel was sure at some point, the situation would be right, and he would openly let Gwyn how easily her smile had charmed him forever. Until then, it would remain a secret only for him to know. "You are so beautiful." Az saw her chuckle at something, but lost in his thoughts, he hadn't heard it. Her cheeks turned red, and she looked away.

"Let me tell you my favorite story from when I was a child."

Tentatively, Gwyn lay beside him and started narrating this tale she apparently held so close to her heart. He didn't complain, for he would gladly o listen her recite her grocery-shopping list. Azriel did try to pay attention, he really did, but her voice was music, and his tired mind followed the path it marked, trustful, down and down and down into the pitch black nothingness.

As it guided him into his own dreams, it sang the most exciting and detailed descriptions of places.

Something about a boy named Peter and a girl named Wendy who flew together over the sea and a land of miracles. Azriel fell asleep, just as Gwyn said he would, only she didn't know he would dream of himself flying over that magical place named Wonderland with her in his arms. Only he knew that. As the Spymaster, he knew everything.

[vampiregirl1797]

The Starlight Stone

GIF not mine.

Rhysand x Reader

Word Count: 4,898

Summary: Y/N comes from a different reality, where the characters and world she’s now living in, exist in a series of books. Rhysand takes her in, and she learns how to do something she’s never managed before… live.

Warnings: Can’t think of any? If I’ve missed anything, let me know.

Masterlist Here :)

Falling in love with new characters was as easy as breathing for me. In fact it was so easy, that before I realised it, I was only falling for them. Reading became an escape for me, a teenage girl without a shred of self-confidence, used to being the overlooked one in a group of friends, used to not attracting any kind of male attention. It was perfect, because the men I fell in love with always loved me back, never hurt me with the crushing pain of rejection, never thought I wasn’t pretty enough, or skinny enough. They loved me for me.  

I just never imagined I’d wake up in one of the fictional world’s I’d read about, and come face to face with the High Lord I’d most recently falling for. I’d arrived several months ago, and of course hadn’t been able to keep a thing from the High Lord of the Night Court who’d found me trespassing on his lands. He’d gone into my head, not too far, but far enough to assess whether I was a threat to him or his people. He discovered pretty quickly that I had absolutely no skill set to be a threat, and that I absolutely was not from his world.  

He’d found the concept of Prynthian being presented in a series of books both interesting and amusing, as well as him and his friends existing as characters within the novels. I was just glad he hadn’t gone far enough to find how invested I got in each of the books I read, and those who existed within them, him being one of those people. It would have been mortifying and I had wondered on more than one occasion what his reaction would be. But coming face to face with a man who had been fictional to me, and then become real overnight… it had thrown me into my insecurities. Into taking my feelings for the High Lord and shoving them down as far as I could.  

‘Y/N?’ I was snapped out of my thoughts by Cassian popping his head into my room. Rhys had offered me a room at his town house when I first got here, and I’d never left. He’d offered the money to buy my own place, but I hadn’t been comfortable with the idea of that at the time, and now I had a place on his court, along with a wage of my own, but this had become my home.  

‘Hey Cass, what’s up?’ I smiled, patting the empty space beside me on the enormous bed; in my world I’d never had bigger than a single, and this was about three singles put together.  

‘Not much, I was gonna go into town for a little while, do you want to come with?’ His hazel eyes studied me with warmth and kindness, which was probably what had made me comfortable around him so quickly. He’d never looked at me with the disinterest I was used to being on the receiving end of from men; he saw me as a person and I appreciated him for it.

‘Sure. Anything in particular you’re after?’ I wondered letting my hair down from the messy bun I’d pulled it up onto when I’d come to relax in my room.  

He shrugged, trying and failing to be nonchalant, ‘not really. Just felt like getting out.’

I sighed, shuffling to the edge of the bed to slip on my boots, ‘Rhys sent you to check up on me didn’t he? Let me guess, he thinks I’m becoming a depressed recluse?’  

Cass gave me a look that was a mixture of concern and exasperation, ‘Rhys worries about you because you never leave the house. He doesn’t think you’re depressed, but he worries you’re not living either. You lose yourself in books, and you barely speak to anyone, even me.’  

I turned away, pretending to busy myself with lacing up my shoes to hide the tear that slid down my cheek. Rhys was more observant than I gave him credit for. The truth was, since I’d gotten here, I’d basically been living the same as I had before; reading, sleeping, eating and more reading. I ate meals with everyone sometimes, but more often than not, I allowed the new fictional worlds offered to me here to consume me. I’d never been called out on it before. No one had ever cared enough to notice that I wasn’t just reading because I loved it, I was reading to escape the life I didn’t know how to live.  

‘I-I’ I stuttered, forcing myself to stop and take a breath.

‘Hey,’ Cassian’s voice softened and he shuffled beside me on the bed to sling a muscular arm over my shoulder. My head went to his chest, not even trying to hold back my tears anymore, it seemed pointless when he could probably scent them anyway, ‘I didn’t say this to upset you, just to let you know that you’re family to us now, Y/N, and we care about you. We want you to live and enjoy life, not to fall solely in love with fictional places.’  

‘This place was just a fictional place to me once.’ I murmured quietly.

‘And now you get to be here, and still choose to read yourself to death.’ He teased, chuckling softly.  

I smiled, wiping away the moisture from my cheeks, because he was right. Rhys was right. I had been blessed with the opportunity to live in a reality I’d once yearned for with all my heart, and I’d been wasting it. Why? Because I was afraid to face the feelings I had for a certain High Lord, feelings that had only blossomed since coming here, despite my best efforts to avoid him. I’d been throwing myself into reading because I wanted to live in the fantasy that he would return my feelings for a little longer. But that had to stop. I wasn’t immortal here—at least I didn’t think so, I didn’t have Fae characteristics and I didn’t have any powers—and it was time to stop squandering my life being a scaredy cat.  

‘You’re right. Rhys is right.’ I moved away from Cassian’s chest, wiping all evidence of my tears away, ‘lets go into Velaris. I’ve always wanted to stroll through the City and take everything in. It looks so beautiful from up here.’  

Cassian grinned, and allowed me to pull him from the bed, and just like that we left the town house and were swallowed by the life of Velaris.  

Six Months Later

‘I don’t think so.’ I shook my head, levelling the Shadowsinger with a no-nonsense glare, ‘it’s the Winter Solstice, which is the first one I’m spending here, it’s basically Christmas, and it’s a family holiday. You’re not flying off to wherever the heck you’re planning to go, with only your shadows for company.’  

His hazel eyes were blank but he visibly stiffened. I sighed, realising that telling Azriel what he could and couldn’t do was not my place, and it definitely wasn’t the best approach.  

‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to act like I’m your keeper or anything.’ I stood from the couch where I’d been sitting, to move to where he stood in front of the fire. I placed a hand on his shoulder, and relaxed a little when he didn’t shrug me off, ‘it’s just… this means something to me. Back in my old reality, we had Christmas, which was something similar. We’d all gather, exchange presents, decorate a tree, hang decorations… but what made it special to me was the time spent with the people I loved. With the people I considered family. You’re my family now, Azriel. You, Cass, Ameren, Mor… and Rhys. Obviously it’s your choice, but if you could afford to, please don’t leave until after the holiday.’  

I thought his eyes had softened at my words, but honestly it was hard to tell with the Shadowsinger. I left him alone to think over my words, kissing his cheek as I made my way outside; I still had some things left to buy for everyone. I’d gone a little overboard, but I couldn’t help it. I’d pretty much finished Mor and Ameren, I had a few last things to pick up for Cassian and Azriel, and the majority I’d left to buy were for Rhys. I already knew what I was going to get him, and most were already purchased and wrapped at each store, I’d just waited until now to get them, because while Rhys was trusted with everyone else’s presents… well giving him his own gifts just didn’t seem right. It might just have been me, but I felt like it took away the surprise, at least a little bit.  

I smiled as I walked through the city, nodding in greeting to a few friendly people. Since that talk Cassian had with me six months ago, I’d started venturing out of the townhouse more and more. I still read, but it was for the fun of it now, rather than the escape from reality. I’d fallen in love with Velaris. The city was beautiful, and teeming with life and acceptance and peace… seeing it first hand really made me appreciate the efforts Rhys and everyone had gone through to protect this place, to make it a home.  

‘Hey girl!’ Ameren’s voice had me looking to my right, to see her running across the cobblestone street to catch up to me, ‘you wouldn’t be out to purchase my Winter Solstice presents now would you?’ she grinned, her silver eyes sparkling with more life than usual.

I playfully rolled my eyes, ‘even if I was, I wouldn’t tell you. Your otherworld intimidation doesn’t work on me, Ren.’  

She huffed, but I could see the amusement swirling in her silver irises, ‘fine. It amazes me sometimes though,’ she mused, going on to explain, ‘Cassian cracked like an egg in two seconds, told me what he’d got me straight away. But you’re immune to what makes me scary to people around here.’  

I chuckled, being able to picture Cassian folding perfectly, ‘I wouldn’t say I’m the only one. And Cassian doesn’t prove anything, he’s like a big kid with this stuff. I’ve had to actually shush him to keep him from telling me about my presents, I think the excitement just gets to him. Now if you told me you’d broken Azriel, I’d be impressed.’  

She huffed a laugh and tilted her head in acknowledgement of my words, ‘yeah, you might be right. He didn’t only tell me what he’d gotten me, he told me about everyone else’s too.’  

I rolled my eyes affectionately, ‘that boy.’  

‘Indeed.’ She shook her head, but when she met my eyes again the wicked glint in them made me brace myself slightly, ‘so what are you getting our High Lord?’  

‘I’m on my way to pick up Rhys’ presents now. You can come with me if you want, so long as you don’t spoil anything.’ I gave her a pointed look and grinned at her offended look.  

‘I’m not the gossip Cassian is, thank you very much, girl,’ she waved her hand dismissively, ‘anyway, I was just wondering if you were finally going to gift him with the truth.’

‘Who?’ I frowned, pulling open the door to the blacksmith’s—I’d requested a few specific weapons for Azriel, Cassian and Rhys, each custom made and fit to them specifically, ‘what truth?’

She opened her mouth to reply, but was had to wait until the blacksmith had handed over the three weapons he’d perfectly made for me. Azriel and Cassian had plenty of swords and knives and daggers, but their abundance in bows and arrows was clear. I’d seen them practice with the same one, and I doubted they had any specific for battle, which seemed a waste when they could both fly. So I’d asked the blacksmith to create some custom for them, and both now had their own bow, plenty of arrows and a quiver. Their names were engraved inside the buttery leather of their quivers, and each were made to be lightweight and able to be worn whilst flying without losing any arrows.

For Rhys I’d asked for a pair of daggers to be crafted. I’d seen him with a couple of swords, and I was sure he already had daggers too, but picking this particular weapon had just felt right, even if I knew it was likely he possessed some already. Each was pure silver, one held an amethyst stone at the hilt, while the other held an onyx stone. One for his eyes, the other for his court.  

It was when we exited the shop that Ameren decided to resume her train of thought that I’d almost forgotten about, ‘the truth that you are in love with Rhys.’

It took a lot of effort not to stumble from shock, ‘what?’

‘Don’t play dumb. It’s obvious. Has been for months,’ she smirked, ‘we have bets on when you’re going to tell him. I have over the Solstice, so if you could do a girl a favour and tell him already, the winnings will be mine.’

‘Not to put a damper on your betting habits,’ I pulled her hand towards another shop I needed to go into, ‘but I’ve not got any “truth” to reveal to Rhys.’  

She swore under her breath, ‘I knew I should have had spring, but there’s me being the optimist thinking you would have grown some balls and realised what we’ve all already seen by now.’

I frowned, ‘what the hell are you talking about Ameren?’

‘Rhys loves you just as much as you love him. Actually knowing him, he probably loves you even more, but he’s as much of a coward as you.’ She rolled her eyes, tucking her onyx hair behind her ear as I accepted another bag full of pre-wrapped presents for Rhys.

‘You can’t be serious.’ I didn’t know what else to say… the idea of him feeling a fraction of the love I had for him made my heart pound in my chest. I couldn’t fathom it.

‘Honestly, you’re both blind.’ She shook her head, but let the subject drop, and I was glad. Talking any more might have launched me into a full-blown panic attack.

I’d admitted to myself that fallen in love with the High Lord three months ago—for a long time I’d fought it, convincing myself I was just in love with the fictional version of him. But that theory had gone down the toilet when he’d laughed—really laughed—at a joke Cassian made, and I’d been powerless to stop myself from being overwhelmed with happiness at his happiness. It was then I accepted I was an idiot in love with a man I’d never have. But Ameren saying he did feel the same, well it made me panic because I’d never considered it a possibility before—I’d never had a man interested in me before, and the idea of it, the unfamiliarity, made me panic. So I forced it down and made myself focus on collecting the rest of my gifts.  

//

The morning of Winter Solstice saw me rising bright and early, eager as a kid on Christmas morning. I realised that we wouldn’t be exchanging presents until the evening, after we’d all eaten, but I couldn’t tamper my excitement. So after I’d showered and dressed in leggings and a white woolly jumper, I headed to the living room to put the finishing touches on the decorations. Everything was basically done, but Rhys had found an eight-foot pine tree; I’d been telling him about the traditions of Christmas in my old reality, and he’d surprised me yesterday with a real tree. I’d hugged him tightly for it, unable to hold back my tears of gratitude at his thoughtfulness, and declared we’d have to decorate it tomorrow, after it had time to settle in the room overnight. A part of me wondered if he’d remember, but my doubt floated away upon the sight of him standing in the living room, observing the tree like he was sizing up an opponent on the battlefield. The thought made me chuckle, and he looked up to me with a smile.  

‘Good morning.’ I murmured, coming over to join him, ‘is there a reason you seem to be sizing up this poor, defenceless tree?’  

He grinned, his violet eyes sparkling with mirth, ‘well, other than the fact that it’s bigger than me and has an unfair advantage size-wise,’ I missed his soft smile as I laughed again, ‘I was simply wondering exactly how we’re going to decorate it.’

I softened with understanding, ‘well, lucky for you, I’m ridiculously prepared.’ I moved to pull out the box I’d stored behind the tree last night, after retrieving it from one of the shops in the art district. Magic was such a blessing here, and after I’d explained what I’d needed, and demonstrated with some awful drawings, they’d had everything made within a few hours. I pulled a few ornaments out, marvelling at the craftsmen’s ship for a moment before hanging them on the tree; there was a mixture of circular shapes and stars, in amethyst, silver, blue and black. They’d also crafted a silver star to go on top of the tree, fashioned after the star that always shone the brightest in the night sky of Velaris on the first night of Winter Solstice. It was so well made, I’d been struck speechless by how realistic it looked; as if they had plucked the star straight from the sky.  

I nudged the box closer to Rhys with my foot, ‘just hang them however you want, like this.’ I gestured to the few I’d put on and smiled when he reached in and immediately followed instructions.  

‘You know, if I used my magic I could have this done in under a minute.’ He commented, looking at me from the corner of his eye as if he knew my reaction before I voiced it.

‘Absolutely not! Decorating by hand is part of the fun, and the tradition.’ I protested, flicking his shoulder when I noticed his smirk, ‘if you use a flicker of magic, then there will be no presents for you.’

I frowned at the look of surprise in his eyes and he must have noticed my confusion because he said, his voice soft, ‘I didn’t think you’d gotten me anything. I didn’t mind, of course, I’m just surprised.’  

‘Why would you think that?’ I turned to face him fully, ignoring the task of decorating for the moment.

‘Because you didn’t give them to me to hide.’ He shrugged, carefully placing another ornament onto the tree, ‘and I never expect gifts, from anyone regardless. I went a long time being consumed by disappointment after my mother and sister died, because my father never cared for the holiday before. But after their deaths, it bore a reminder of another year of them being gone. Then he and I enacted our revenge, and it was a while before Morrigan, Cassian and I were able to spend the Solstice together.’  

I pulled him into a hug, winding my arms around his neck and not flinching at the appearance of his wings. They didn’t often appear without purpose unless he was feeling a strong emotion, but I didn’t question it when they cocooned us, his warmth radiating all around me.  

‘I didn’t give you any to hide because I felt like it took away from the surprise of the holiday if I was asking you to keep your own presents.’ I murmured into his neck, missing the small shiver that passed through him, ‘I’m sorry, that you had to spend so many Solstice’s alone, Rhys. But you have a family now, one that would sooner die than leave you.’

He held me a little tighter, and I returned the gesture, burrowing further into his neck and wondering if I was imagining the increased heartbeat I could feel against my chest, or if I were perhaps mistaking it for my own.

//

I smiled from my seat in the armchair, enjoying the warmth emanating from the fire, and from the mug of hot chocolate I held in my hands. We had just had Winter Solstice dinner, and were taking it in turns to open our presents.  

Ameren had gone first, and was grinning so wide it was almost scary at all of the jewels everyone had bought for her. Cassian had mostly been gifted weapons from everyone but Mor and me—she’d given him a sweater in the brightest green I’d ever seen, and I’d also gifted him some of his favourite liquor, a box of chocolates that Rhys had mentioned his mother got the General every year for solstice, some new books on war strategy, a new set of Illyrian leathers, and the bow and arrows I’d gotten him.

Azriel had also gained an abundance of weapons, along with a startlingly bright pair of purple socks from Mor, and some of his favourite liquor, a series of books on adventure and war I had a feeling he would enjoy, and a new set of Illyrian leathers and his new bow and arrows, from me. Mor had been given high quality clothing from everyone, and some of her favourite chocolates, wine, bath foams and salts from me. Rhys had been given a set of old leather bound books from Ameren, a Hawaiian themed shirt from Mor—mother knew where she found that—, what looked like a six-pack of beer from Cassian that had Rhys shaking his head with a reluctant smile, and a new set of Illyrian leathers from Azriel. I’d given him his new set of daggers, some of the chocolates Cassian had mentioned his mother and sister gifted him every Solstice, a painting that captured the beauty of Velaris perfectly, and something else I hadn’t yet presented to him.  

I’d actually left the other gift in his room, on his pillow; it was a pendant that had caught my eye when I was buying Ameren’s Solstice gifts. The shop attendant had noticed my stare and pulled it out from beneath the glass—it wasn’t overly huge; about the size of a bottle cap. It was antique silver, with a stone at the centre that was so beautiful I’d been unable to look away from it. It reminded me of the night sky, to put it plainly. It was so blue I thought it was sapphire, but the flashes of pure light that I saw when I turned it reminded me of shooting stars. The attendant had explained it was a pendant often presented to a perspective partner as a way of showing your intentions—as a way of showing your love for them. It was often the step before the mating bond sparked, to acknowledge what you already felt for them. She mentioned that it was an out dated tradition, and many only bought the Starlight stone now purely because it was beautiful.  

I didn’t know what possessed me to buy it. Maybe it was the possibility that he wouldn’t even know what it meant, maybe it was because a part of me wanted to tell him, and this was the only way I could muster the courage to do it. Either way, I’d left the small wrapped present on his black silk pillow before I’d joined the party tonight. And I’d had knots in my stomach about it since. A part of me wanted to excuse myself and take it back, but I forced that anxious part of my brain to shut up, because as much as it terrified me… I had to tell Rhys how I felt somehow, even if it meant that he didn’t feel the same way.

//

After the events of the evening, I decided to have a bath before I went to bed; Cassian and Azriel had passed out in the living room, one on the floor, the other on the sofa, but both were snoring loudly. Mor had made it to her room on the first floor, and Ameren had returned to her apartment. Rhys had said something about flying over the city before he turned in, and I was too awake with nerves to just slip straight into bed. So I ran some warm water into the gigantic tub that looked as if it would overflow onto the mountain below, and added some of my favourite bath foams that scented of lavender and honey—a gift from Az. I forced myself to breathe and just not think, and when my eyes started to droop I climbed out of the cooling water to dry off. I changed into the new silk gown Mor had gifted me for Solstice, and entered my bedroom only to stop short.  

My heart stopped at the sight of Rhys sitting on the edge of my bed… and then picked up triple speed. He was wearing loose pyjama pants, and no shirt… and he was holding the gift box I’d left on his pillow. The lid was missing and he was staring at the pendant inside. I took a deep breath and crossed my arms over my chest to hide how my hands shook.

‘Hey.’ I bit my lip, unsure about what to do. Should I sit next to him? Stay standing in front of the fire about three feet away from him? Ask him if he liked the gift? Ask him if he knew what it meant?  

His violet eyes lifted to meet mine, and I felt a wave of uncertainty wash over me at the guarded look in them, ‘do you know what this stone means?’ he asked, his voice quiet as he carefully held up the box, as if its contents were precious to him, ‘are you aware of the tradition that exists in Velaris? About what it means when someone presents this stone to another person?’

I took a deep breath, my heart pounding even faster now, and I was pretty sure I was starting to sweat. I wished I could read him better, wished I could know if he was hoping I knew, or hoping I didn’t. But he was a master of hiding his emotions, so I decided to go with the truth.

‘Yes, I know what it means.’ I admitted quietly, and knew if he didn’t have advanced hearing he wouldn’t have been able to make out the words; I could barely hear myself say them.

‘No, tell me. Tell me why you gave this to me.’ His eyes were still guarded, but his voice held a tinge of desperation, a tone I couldn’t resist from him.

‘I gave you that stone because the attendant at the jewellery store told me that the Starlight stone is what you give to a perspective partner, to acknowledge what you already feel for them, before the mating bond has sparked.’ I could feel the wariness on my face as he stood from the edge of the bed, stopping right in front of me.  

He tilted my chin up to meet his eyes with his index finger and whispered, ‘and what is it you feel for me, Y/N?’

‘I love you Rhys.’ I admitted softly, missing the way his eyes softened as my gaze fell to his lips.

His hand caressed my cheek, his thumb moving back and forth across my cheekbone. I was powerless to stop myself melting into his touch, and felt my eyes sheen with tears when I saw the affectionate look in his eyes. I watched as the dark mist of his magic swirled around the pendant, and lifted it from the box to secure it around his neck. My hand went to rest against his chest, where the pendant lay against his skin.

‘I love you too, Y/N darling.’ He murmured, wiping away the tears that fell silently down my cheeks.  

I vaguely heard the gift box fall to the floor, his free hand now landing on my hip and pulling me flush against his body. My arms wound around his neck, my fingers going to his silky soft hair as his mouth covered mine.

//

One Year Later

‘I’m just saying, Cassian is a great name for a tiny warrior.’ Cass grinned from the sofa, across from where Rhys and I sat in the love seat he’d bought for us about a year ago.  

‘Absolutely not.’ Rhys drawled, his hand gently moving back and forth across my swollen belly.

‘Do you have names picked out?’ Mor asked, her face holding the beaming expression that was always present when we were talking about the baby.

‘We do,’ I murmured, Rhys and I shared a secret smile at Mor’s squeal of excitement.  

‘We’re not revealing anything until the baby is born.’ Rhys grinned at the sounds of disapproval from his cousin and Cassian.  

‘You’re boring.’ The war General grumbled.

We all chuckled at his childish behaviour and I felt my expression soften with affection when Rhys leaned over to kiss my baby bump, murmuring words about how his uncle Cassian would always be the biggest baby in the family. Cassian grumbled louder, much to our amusement. My hand fell to Rhys hair, idly playing with the strands. He kissed my forehead and my eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of contentment that washed over me.  

Home. This was home.