#rhys is a sore loser

[igotsnothing]

This is an outtake of Terence and Rhys playing chess, from the last chapter of "Amaranthine". Since Rhys was losing badly to Terence, he resorted to underhanded tactics... This just strikes me as ridiculously comical. Look at him cheating so brazenly! Look at those grabby hands. Poor Terence looks so adorably spooked.

[mamayan]

Do you think snowball fights with Shiggy will end up with you getting a snow bath bc you hit his face and he goes overboard with revenge? 😭 he would grumble and apologize but tell you that you had it coming

We’d be in a near death match, absolutely, he’s far more competitive than me but I think it’s funny how he becomes enraged at losing.

He’d get caught up and nearly bury me in a snow coffin🤣👏♥️

[shadowdaddies]

I have a request! Reader accidentally hurts themself in an embarrassing way and Rhys/cass/az(idc which one) sees the injury(bruise, cut, etc) and freaks out asking “who did this??” And reader has to awkwardly admit that they did it.

Idk if that makes sense but I thought it was a cute idea for a drabble and I really like your writing 🥰 Feel free to make any changes!

thank you love!💜 I went with Cassian for this one, as a clumsy person myself this resonated with me lol

Falling for You

Cassian x Reader fluff

warnings: mentions of injury, a bit suggestive

Lunging towards Cassian, you swung your sword in an arc, only for the wooden practice blade to hit the training mat. Cassian’s foot swiped your ankle, knocking you flat on your back as his own weapon found your throat. 

With a teasing click of his tongue, your mate smirked down at you. “I believe you yield, my love.”

Scowling, you swatted the wooden blade away, standing up to stalk over to the weapons rack, shoving your tools inside. Warm hands wrapped around your waist, Cassian smirking as he pressed a kiss to your neck. 

“Come now, sweetheart. Don’t be a sore loser,” he purred. 

With mock offense, you turned to face your mate, poking him in the ribs. “I’ll be sore if I want to be,” you retorted.

Mischief danced in hazel eyes as Cassian pulled you impossibly close, fingers tilting your chin so your nose brushed his. “Mm, but what if I offer you a massage, maybe a bath to help with that soreness?”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach, the scent of your arousal instant at his rough voice. A dark chuckle left your mate’s lips, the general giving no warning before he tossed you over his shoulder. 

“Cassian!” you yelled, swatting at him with a giggle while he carried you towards your bedroom. Your only response was a light smack on your ass, drawing another gasp as you settled in his hold.

Carrying you into the bathroom, Cassian set you down on the tile floor, directing you to undress while he moved to turn on the bath water. 

You shucked off your boots, peeling your pants and shirt off when you looked up to see Cassian staring at you, horror etched on his features. Frantically looking over your body, your eyes found Cassian’s. “What? What is it?” you questioned.

Your mate visibly swallowed, his voice thick as he gestured weakly to your leg. “Did I... did I do that?” he muttered, silver lining his eyes that bored into your skin.

You looked down to where he was pointing, finding a bruise you knew all too well, the blackish-purple skin marring a large part of your upper thigh. 

Embarrassment flooded over you, blush rising to your cheeks as you scrambled for words. You had hoped the injury would heal in time for Cassian to never know, but the way that he was looking at you right now, you needed to tell him.

Sighing, you pinched the bridge of your nose. “No, Cass, you didn’t do that...” you whispered. The moment those words left your lips, his demeanor changed. 

The Lord of Bloodshed stood before you, eyes alight with fury. “Who did this to you? I will make them wish they were never born,” he growled, and you couldn’t help but giggle at his misplaced wrath.

“Calm down, love. No one else did this to me. I did it myself... on accident,” you muttered, lips pursed as you avoided eye contact.

Arching a questioning brow, Cassian’s hand gripped your chin, turning you to face him. “What happened, sweetheart?” he questioned, voice soft with concern.

You paced the bathroom, stopping at the tub where you dipped your toe into the warm water. With a smirk, you stepped into the small pool. “It doesn’t really matter,” you hummed, sending a playful splash towards Cassian. “Why don’t you come join me in the bath?” you purred, arching your chest above the water in an attempt to distract him.

Your mate smirked, and you knew that you had caught him as he removed his leathers, stepping into the tub with you. Wading to where you sat, Cassian’s broad hands found your waist, his neck dipping to your shoulder.

Warm lips found your sweet spot, sucking softly on the sensitive skin there as you sighed, rolling your hips against him. Suddenly he stilled his movements, lips moving against your neck. “Where did you get that bruise from, love?”

An exaggerated sigh escaped you. “Don’t laugh at me,” you muttered, gaze turning stern when Cassian pulled back, looking at you with a bemused expression. 

“Nyx tied my shoelaces together,” you pouted, arms crossing over your chest. “And I didn’t realize it, so when I tried to walk, I tripped.” With a huff, you glanced to Cassian, the male biting his lip hard to keep from laughing.

His joy and amusement spread through the bond, forcing a smile of your own at his happiness. A small laugh escaped you at the ridiculousness of the situation, Cassian bursting with booming laughter shortly after.

Your stomach hurt, tears in your eyes from how hard you both laughed, gasping for air as you finally settled down. Cassian moved to the edge of the tub, pulling you in his lap and pressed a kiss to your hair. 

“I love you so much,” he whispered. 

Leaning up, you pressed a kiss to his jaw. “I love you too,” you murmured. 

“Maybe we can buy you some button up shoes, something child-proof” Cassian mused, earning an elbow to the stomach as you giggled in his arms.

[ninthcircleofprythian]

Unbound

Part One - They Don't Know About Us

Series Summary - Not having a mating bond didn't stop the love Azriel and Celeste have for each other or their commitment. When an unknown magic lingering from Celeste's past causes her to lose all memories of the last century, will they be able to rebuild their life without a bond tethering them together?

Word Count - 4.2k

Authors Note - This is part one of a continuing series. This first part is establishing background. Fluffy with a pinch of angst.

Warnings - references to past domestic abuse/injury, some sexual innuendo.

“I hope you’re prepared to be annihilated this year Az,” Rhys drawled as he pulled gloves over his slender hands. “And please — let’s refrain from being petty in your concession speech.” 

Azriel flashed a furtive smile. “I’m not even worried. Cassian’s the sore loser – not me.”

“I am not!” Cassian lashed out a sideways punch at Az’s shoulder, which he effortlessly dodged before kicking out and knocking Cassian leg right from under him.

Cas landed in a hard wallop on his back onto the snow covered ground. “Hey! Watch the wings!” With a nimble move he popped straight to standing again and shook the icy crystals from his webbed appendages. “What’s the count up to now anyway?” He directed at Azriel. “Three hundred and thirty something isn’t it?”

“Three hundred and thirty three this year. When I win.” Az adjusted his own winter leathers in preparation to begin. “Feels like a lucky number,” he added, rubbing his siphon clad hands together and blowing into them, his shadows responding to his breath and scattered before him.

“You know what they say Az, good things come in threes.” Cassian punched out again, hitting both Az and Rhys in the shoulders in jest, his boisterous laugh rang out in echo across the empty clearing they stood along the edge of. 

Rhys let the punch land, rocking back slightly and laughing in return. “Alright, we all know the rules here. Let’s get this show started.”

“Well–what’s the verdict?” Feyre exclaimed, popping her head up from the sofa as the three imposing Illyrians filed into the River House foyer. “Do you have a surprise for me?” She narrowed a questioning look at her mate who stood behind the sofa, hands clasped behind him. Rhys’ normally hidden wings were out on full display which she assumed was a sign of the news. 

“My money is on Cassian,” said Mor cooly from where she was painting her nails a shocking red on the coffee table. 

Rhys gave a sly noncommittal nod. “Hmm. I don’t know.” He shrugged his shoulders without releasing his grasp behind him. 

“C’mon! Let me see!” Feyre kneeled on the sofa seat reaching over the back and playfully grabbing at Rhys’ arms to get a look at his hands. He halfheartedly attempted to evade her before bringing up his hands showing empty palms. 

“Sorry darling, maybe next year.” He bent over and planted a wet kiss in the center of her forehead. 

“I knew it!” shouted Mor. “Pay up Nes.” She held her freshly manicured hand out toward Nesta sitting in the chair nearby. Nes slid an icy glance up from the pages of her novel and then immediately went back to reading.

“Wait–you bet against me?!” Cassian wailed, flying up from his slouch in the other armchair. “Your own mate?! Gods spare me!” He promptly flopped back into the seat, adjusting his wings with a loud thump.

Feyre immediately snapped her gaze back and forth between Cassian and Azriel, who had nipped into the dining room to snag one of Elain’s pastries. 

“Alright, fess up you two. I want my present.” Feyre huffed, a dramatic pout and hands on hips like a toddler.

The ridiculous tradition had begun one year when Rhys got the idea to craft a trophy for the winner of the annual Solstice snowball fight, which just happened to be him that particular year. The tiny pewter cup had been plastered with gold foil and wrapped into a lavish package which Rhys had then presented to his mate as her birthday gift. He had tried to pass it off as his only gift before whipping out a lovely necklace to adorn Feyre’s neck instead. Every year since, the tiny cup had been passed off from that year’s winner to Feyre as her first official birthday gift of the year. Feyre, Mor and Nesta however had started their own tradition of betting money on who they predicted would be the winner. 

Sauntering past the sofa arm and settling into the empty half, Azriel balanced his pastry with one hand and reached into his leather’s chest pocket with the other. 

“Happy Birthday Feyre,” he said quietly with a smile and passed off the cup into her waiting hands. The darkened strands of shadow curled excitedly around the small gift as if they were showing it off before quickly returning to his fingers.

“Oh Az! Congrats! You shouldn’t have,” she said with mock humility. “No but really,” her face turned serious. “You shouldn’t have. I’ll never hear the end of it.” Feyre shot her mate a teasing look as Az threw his head back and laughed, mouth still full of pastry.

“And you thought I was the sore loser.” Cassian grumbled playfully.

“Oh Cas,” Feyre started gently, “if it makes you feel any better my money was on you too.”

Rhys choked in surprise on the whiskey he was sipping as he leaned on the mantle. “What the fuck! Seriously Feyre?” 

Az threw his head back further this time, nearly dropping the plate from his lap and let loose a deep belly laugh. 

From the other side of the room Cas pointed his fist at Rhys as if to bump it from a distance. “Solidarity brother.” Turning his attention to his other brother on the sofa, “And I don’t know what you find so funny over there. In case you didn’t notice – that means no one bet on you.”

Nesta had finally closed her book, nestling it next to her in the chair and joined the conversation. “Az was too obvious a choice,” she stated, her hard face showing no sign of a smile. “Betting on the underdogs gives a higher payout.” 

Cassian made a throaty gurgling noise as he mimed stabbing himself in the heart and flexed his wrist. “Twist a little harder, why don’t you Nes.” 

“Underdog huh?” Rhys quipped from over his whiskey glass, his violet eyes flaring a bit.

“I would have won, you know,” Cassian argued. “If it wasn’t for Az’s unfair advantage I would have totally been victorious.”

“And what exactly was my ‘unfair advantage’ Cas?” Snaking lines of shadow writhed down his legs as Azriel lengthened his posture into a relaxed lounge.

“C’mon brother. Don’t play dumb. It’s time to fess up.” Cassian’s eyes twinkled with hints of a secret knowledge. 

“I assure you, I have no idea what you are talking about,” Az answered lazily.

Mor began fanning her hands in the air in order to dry the second coat of her polish. “Let’s hear it then, Cassian. If there was foul play we should know.” 

“I think Az was right, Cassian.” Rhys chuckled to himself. “You are the sore loser.”

“Oh c'mon Rhysie darling,” Cassian teased. “I know a mating bond chafe when I see one. I remember ours well.”

Everything stopped. Any rustling or whispering or shifting of bodies abruptly halted. Mor’s fanning paused in mid-air, hands hanging comically in front of her face. Even breathing seemed to be on pause. At least it was for Azriel, as all eyes in the room fell upon him. He didn’t even notice the shushing whisper of his shadows curled around his face trying to tell him something because all he could hear was the slamming of his heartbeat in his ears. And he wasn’t convinced that everyone else couldn't hear it either.  

“What exactly do you mean by chafe, Cassian?” Nesta broke in.

“Oh, so you can give it but you can’t take it?” Cassian quipped as he stood to cross the room. “I don’t mean anything by it, my love.” Dipping his frame he extended his arms in an attempt to embrace his mate. She very quickly shot out one palm, planting it in the center of his chest and shoved. 

“And what exactly about me having a mating bond would be unfair?” Azriel rumbled darkly, sitting rigidly upright now.

Cassian’s head whipped in Azriel’s direction. “That’s not what I meant,” he said tensely as he made his way back to his chair next to the sofa. Then softening his voice, “You know that’s not what I meant.” Cas reached out and placed a hand to Az’s knee.

“So what did you mean?” Az responded, his tone menacing.

“All I meant was that with Rhys and I, we all knew about our bonds before the annual fight. We all knew what we were walking into. You could have told us in advance,” Cassian’s hand squeezed Az’s knee gently. “Level the playing field a bit.” Cassian winked with a laugh for the benefit of everyone listening, but leaned in with another squeeze. Lowering his voice to a soft pitch he said, “You could have told us.” He smiled sadly before dropping his hand and Azriel’s gaze.

“A mating bond?” Feyre asked astounded. “Az? Is it true?”

“Who is she? Do we know her?” Mor chimed in quick succession.

“A secret lover? How scandalous. How long have you been hiding her away?” Nesta asked dreamily, thinking what a good plot to a romance novel this would make.

The questions erupted in a flurry. 

“There is no bond.” Azriel said flatly, fortifying his face into an unreadable cover.

Feyre sighed out the breath she had been holding and rubbed her hand on Azriel’s forearm. Mor’s fanning resumed at a slower pace, her eyes still fixed on Azriel gauging his mood. Rhys still stood languidly against the mantle wearing a similarly unreadable mask.

“No bond–,” Nesta said lowly. “But there is someone isn’t there?” Her hard stare penetrated into Azriel as he met it. Ever since he had seen her emerge from that bog long ago as a frightful Goddess of Death, he swore she could see things in him that no one else could. 

It was true he had once yearned for a mating bond so badly that he thought he’d rather retreat into his own tortured mind than live without one. But the time after meeting his love had changed that. From the time she had first started entering his circle as an acquaintance to the time they were inseparable as lovers, Azriel had come to find that she was worth more than every mating bond he was never granted.

He held Nesta’s stare just a moment too long. A shiver spread through his wings and he pulled a sharp inhale through his nose. There was no use lying about it. He had indeed kept her a secret for some time now but they had both already agreed to make it public, they just hadn’t exactly decided when yet. 

The length of time it took Azriel to answer Nesta’s question led all the eyes in the room to shift back to him. 

“Yes.” Azriel said and heard Mor gasp, also noticing how Rhys’ whiskey glass remained touching his lips but he wasn’t swallowing. “There is someone.”

“I knew it.” Mor whispered breathlessly.

“No you didn’t, Mor,” Feyre shot. “You always say that.” Turning to Azriel next to her she flashed him a beautifully authentic smile. “We are happy for you Az. I can’t wait to meet her.”

Rhys had broken his frozen stance and moved lithely over to the small bar cart in the corner. He held a glass out to Cassian and then turned to do the same to Azriel. “We are very happy for you Az,” he offered out the heavy crystal whiskey glass matching the one in his own hand. “Cheers brother.”

Azriel accepted the drink, tipping it gently towards the one in Rhys’ hand until they clinked together. 

“May the Cauldron bless you both,” Cassian added genuinely as the motion of tapping glasses was repeated between them.

“You should invite her to Solstice dinner tonight.” Mor uttered from the floor.

“Yes!” squealed Feyre “Az, invite her! If she is free that is.”

Az brought the whiskey to his mouth and drained the glass in one gulp. “We’ll see,” he said through the burn.

“Yes, if she’s free, please do invite her tonight.” Rhys offered. “And let’s hope she is free, or I might never hear the end of it.” He winked a teasing wink at his mate, who then belted out a ringing belly laugh of her own. 

“No. He won’t” Feyre agreed. Azriel couldn’t help but smile to himself at that, knowing it was entirely true.

Celeste sat hugging her knees on the sofa in her apartment listening intently, wide-eyed at Azriel’s recollection of the conversation that had taken place earlier that morning.

“Oh! This is so, so good Az. No really, it’s delicious,” she crooned, bouncing in her seat on the sofa. “We couldn’t have planned it better ourselves! They are going to be so surprised!” 

He listened with amused distraction as she began plotting and planning the whole thing, exacting how they would make their grand reveal. As she jotted down ideas and paced around the small apartment living room, he could only focus on her and not her words. 

In her flurry of excitement she had swept her dark brown curls up atop her head and out of the way, exposing the soft expanse of her neck and the whole of her face. His eyes lingered along the scar that traversed her features, beginning its snaking path in her right eyebrow cleaving it entirely in two. Barely missing the corner of her eye, it continued over the bridge of her nose, through the flesh of her left nostril and slipped down into the plump pillow of her top lip. Although it had been healed for decades now, it was still fiery bright red in color against her lightly tanned skin. 

The scar itself had never bothered Az. It did nothing to detract from Celete’s beauty and charm. It was the origin of the injury that had his blood boiling. The mark was a relic of her former partner. A vile and cruel male who had enacted punishments upon her for any perceived slight. The scar came about after one of the times Celeste had attempted to escape him. Ever since Azriel had first heard her recount a particularly awful recollection to Nesta after walking in on a girls night in the House of Wind, he had attempted to find the man named Tyrik. As spymaster, Azriel might have abused a few of his court powers in order to do so. Every lead for the last three decades ended in a dead end. One day though, Azriel was convinced that Tyrik would be the one dead.

Azriel mentally tugged his thoughts away from that male before the anger began showing in his body language. His hazel eyes continued to trail Celeste across the room, still pacing animatedly. How anyone could hurt this wonderful female before him, he would never understand. He answered the flurry of questions Celeste asked him in quick succession and offered his opinion on how things should be timed for the surprise. 

“Oh. Oh, Cauldron boil me!” Celeste suddenly exclaimed with a squeak. “I have to pick a different outfit!”

Jumping up from the sofa across from where he sat, she wound her way around the coffee table with ease. Grabbing his face between her two hands with more force than she intended she yelped out, “Az–oh! Sorry. But I need your help.” Planting a quick kiss to his lips, she was already scurrying down the hall before she finished. “Don’t go anywhere. You have to help me pick. Wait there!”

“I’d rather watch,” he shouted back. Her sharp laughter rang back down the hallway. 

Az just chuckled to himself as he heard her rummaging around the tiny closet in her bedroom. Alone in the now quiet living room, he began to think about how much she had changed since he first laid eyes on her. The version of Celeste he had met in a dark tavern was a stark difference to the Celeste that had just bounced off frantically.

She had been working in a shabby tavern on the outskirts of the city. It was where he went when he didn’t want to engage in the ravelry of Rita’s with the rest of his friends. Azriel had quickly picked up on the fact that her feisty attitude with the male customers wasn’t an attempt at playing hard to get or to garner increased tips. As spymaster he recognized it immediately for what it was – a defense mechanism. She piqued his interest like a puzzle he wanted to solve. In typical Azriel fashion however, he kept to the shadows, never approaching her or striking up conversation. Only silently observing. 

It wasn’t until Celeste had met Nesta on one of her nights off years ago, drinking alone at Rita’s, that he had even entertained the possibility of knowing her. Their blossoming friendship had carried her into his circle with increasing frequency until it was nearly every other day that they were in each other's presence for one reason or another.

Azriel’s private struggle over a lack of a mating bond and his terrible habit of choosing unavailable love interests kept him at an emotional distance however. He had joined group nights out and laughed shyly at Celeste’s jokes with others without ever attempting to grab her attention. From the fringe of their friend group he had watched as Celeste transformed from the defensive and harshly playful female he first noticed into a confident, easygoing, empathetic and kind friend.

Once she had begun to discover her healing abilities, Rhys had generously offered to send her to Dawn Court for extensive training. As her time away from Velaris turned from weeks into months, Azriel had begun to realize what was missing from his life. Her. 

Every missed opportunity to approach her on his own and every gap in conversation she had purposely left open to him replayed over and over in his mind. He mentally kicked himself over the fact that he wasted so much time pining over others in the past. 

The week of her return from Dawn, Azriel had commandeered the healer rotation schedule from Madja under “official court business”. The first date that he had seen her name penned on the calendar was when he enacted his plan. One well acted slip during training with Cassian and the priestesses that morning left him with a nasty gash along his forearm and a healer was called to the House of Wind. 

The minute she laid her light supple hands along his deep golden skin he had nearly lost all nerve and backed out entirely. Minutes of silence on his part passed as she cleaned and stitched and bandaged, talking all the while to fill the void. When the last wrap of bandage was taped down and she had started to pack up her supplies, he rushed into action before he could lose his nerve again. 

“Celeste?”

“Hmm?” she purred softly, still packing her things.

“Would you join me for dinner tonight? Just the two of us I mean.” He stammered nervously. “Like – like a date.”

Her hands had stilled atop her bag after clasping it shut before she slowly lifted her gaze to him. Those dark tawny eyes meeting his had sent his pulse into palpitations but the smile that spread across her lovely face had threatened to stop his heart entirely.

She released a laughing sigh that was like the calming breeze after a storm. “I thought you would never ask,” she answered. 

The best part of the entire plan, according to Celeste, was that Azriel’s someone had already been invited to Solstice dinner well before Rhys and Feyre had extended their invitation through Az. Being a part of Nesta’s circle of girlfriends had left Celeste with a standing invitation for the last few years. 

“Are you sure no one has any idea?” Celeste questioned as she stood by the bed toweling her still wet hair.

“I’m sure about everyone,” he answered, calculating mentally. “Except Nesta. You really don’t think she would tell Cassian first if she thought it was you?”

“Absolutely not,” Celeste insisted. “She would have approached me about it before ever mentioning it to him. I’m positive.”

“And what makes you so sure about that?” He peered at her quizzically.

“Have you ever taken a peek at the books she’s always lending me?” Celeste raised her eyebrows and widened her eyes. The scar that spanned the entirety of her face tightened with her animated expression. “She would have come running to me first for all the details. She would have wanted to know all about—” she pulled her hands apart in front of her before throwing her arms out fully “ — your wingspan.” She flashed a wink before ramping herself up into a fit of giggles. 

Az let out a shocked huff of a laugh before pulling his palm down his face, color rising to his cheeks. “Mother above,” he sighed. 

Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, Celeste started shooing him off the bed with her towel. “Az, you have to get going. The shop will be closing soon and they said they are holding the rings for us. Go!”

“Alright, alright. I’m going,” he teased with his hands up in playful defense. He pushed himself up to stand and then gracefully swooped his arms around Celeste’s waist, pulling her body against his. “A kiss goodbye at least?”

“You’re coming right back,” Celeste narrowed her gaze in a comical frown but leaned in with sincerity, brushing her mouth gently over his before nipping at his bottom lip. Her eyes darkened with promise, “Hurry.”

The promise of that word hung in the air as Az grabbed his coat and headed out of the apartment. Unfortunately he knew that he wouldn’t be able to join in on that promise, at least not before dinner. He had to stop home for one last thing after the shop and his return would cut it close to when they had timed their departures. 

Kicking off from the cobblestones on the corner in front of the apartment building Az launched into the air. He made quick work of locating the jewelry shop just a short flight away. It wasn’t the one that Rhys often frequented for his mate’s jewels but it was the only one open this late on Solstice night. It didn’t matter to Azriel though, as long as Celeste was happy.

She had gotten this idea in the final hour of their planning, which had forced them to rethink nearly the entire plan. The joy that had radiated from her at the thought of being able to pull it off was well worth the hassle. Azriel had been sent out in search of an open shop that could fulfill their request last minute which luckily didn’t take as long as he thought it would have. A pile of coin and two hours later he was walking out of the shop, the proud owner of two simple and plain gold bands. 

Azriel had insisted that they didn’t have to rush, he would give her the commitment ceremony of her dreams if that’s what she wanted. Celeste had teased him back that he could still do that for her even if their new plan went smoothly. Committing to each other was something they had spoken about before at great length. Their feelings for each other, mating bond or not, were serious and true. 

After arranging the pickup of the rings, she had told him very seriously that this is what she wanted. She didn’t want a huge party or ice sculptures. The fact that this was a surprise to everyone involved was thrilling enough. The only thing she wanted was to declare themselves committed in front of their family and to slip that ring on his finger. Celeste had even proposed the idea to adopt the usual mortal terms of husband and wife. 

“I like the sound of ‘husband’ so much better than ‘partner’,” she had said. “It feels better rolling off the tongue.” 

Azriel’s chin had dipped in a seductive grin. “There are other things I can think of that feel better rolling off the tongue.”

Slipping the newly purchased ring box into his inner coat pocket, Azriel kicked off once more, heading to his townhouse before circling back to meet Celeste one last time. This flight was longer, as he didn’t live in the downtown district like Celeste did, but instead closer to the quieter outskirts of the city. 

He glided smoothly through the drafts above the clouds. The path between the two dwellings was something he knew by muscle memory having flown it so many times over the last many months. Az allowed his mind to wander as it usually did in times of quiet. Spending so much of his life inside his own head had made the habit a hard one to break. 

Celeste’s face alight with excitement was the first thing that popped up. He felt his heart clench as he sifted through all the expressions and laughs she had produced tonight as she plotted out everything. The fact that the reveal of their relationship hadn’t happened until now was not lost on him. It was his hesitancy that had delayed this moment – her moment. The throb of guilt, knowing that he could have allowed Celeste this joy sooner, sent his heart into a squeeze.

[leoniestarlee]

Illyrian Assassin (22)

Pairing: Azriel x OC

Word Count: 1.7k

Warning: slow burn

sorry for not posting for a day...i was watching all the maze runner movies again🤎

--

“After last nights events,” Rhysand drawled while I lounged on the couch in the townhouse the next day, “I feel like I need to remind you not to get in a fight while we’re in the Summer Court.”

I snorted, sitting up and pushing down the dark blue skirts of my gown. “I had good reason to hit that shithead last night. But I promise I won’t start a fight over the next few days.”

“I’m not even surprised you got in a fight,” Amren crooned with a wicked smile in my direction.

“It’s a habit I need to break,” I mumbled, standing up at the sounds of footsteps coming down the stairs and we turned our attention to Feyre as she stepped into the foyer.

Rhys simply said to Feyre, “Good. Let’s go.”

Feyre’s mouth popped open, but Amren explained with a broad, feline smile, “He’s pissy this morning.”

“Why?” Feyre asked, watching Amren take Rhys’ hand, her delicate fingers dwarfed by his. He held out the other to Feyre.

“Because,” Rhys answered for her, “I’m hungover and stayed out longer with Cassian and Azriel after you ladies were brought back. My bastard brothers took me for all I was worth in cards.”

“Sore loser?” Feyre gripped his hand as I laughed.

“I am when my brothers tag-team me,” he grumbled, nodding at me.

With no warning, I winnowed at the same time Rhys did. I appeared beside Amren, standing on a landing platform at the base of a tan stone palace, the building itself perched atop a mountain-island in the heart of a half-moon bay. The city spread around and below us, toward that sparkling sea—the buildings all from that stone, or glimmering white material that might have been coral or pearl.

“Well, I truly did miss the beach,” I mused quietly as a few farmilia faces walked toward us.

“Welcome to Adriata,” said Tarquin in the center of the group.

Rhys merely drawled, “Good to see you again, Tarquin.”

The five other people behind the High Lord of Summer swapped frowns of varying severity. Like their lord, their skin was dark, their hair in shades of white or silver, as if they had lived under the bright sun their entire lives. Their eyes, however, were of every color. And they now shifted between Feyre, Amren, and me.

Rhys slid one hand into a pocket and gestured with the other to Amren. “Amren, I think you know. Though you haven’t met her since your…promotion.”

Tarquin gave Amren the briefest of nods. “Welcome back to the city, lady.”

Amren didn’t nod, or bow, or so much as curtsy before she said, “At least you are far more handsome than your cousin. He was an eyesore.” Cresseida, behind Tarquin, outright glared. Amren’s red lips stretched wide. “Condolences, of course,” she added.

Rhys then gestured to me. “The last time we were here, Aurora left without a good-bye due to…certain circumstances.”

I held back a smirk, knowing the only reason I suddenly left last time was to keep myself out of their prison. “High Lord,” I murmured with a slight nod, which he returned.

Rhys looked at me with a knowing look before gesturing to Feyre. “I don’t believe you two were ever formally introduced Under the Mountain. Tarquin, Feyre. Feyre, Tarquin.” The High Lord did not smile. His eyes drifted to her chest, the bare skin revealed.

“Not a smart move,” I whispered lowly.

Rhys followed that gaze. “Her breasts are rather spectacular, aren’t they? Delicious as ripe apples.” It took every ounce of strength in me to not burst out laughing.

“Here I was, thinking you had a fascination with my mouth,” Feyre said with a small grin.

And Cauldron did I nearly loose myself trying not to laugh.

Tarquin seemed to weigh the air between them and carefully said, “You have a tale to tell, it seems.”

“We have many tales to tell,” Rhys said, jerking his chin toward the glass doors behind them. “So why not get comfortable?”

Cresseida, a half-step behind Tarquin, inched closer. “We have refreshments prepared.”

Tarquin seemed to remember her then and put a hand on her slim shoulder. “Cresseida—Princess of Adriata.”

The others were hastily introduced: three advisers who oversaw the city, the court, and the trade. And then a broad-shouldered, handsome male named Varian, Cresseida’s younger brother, captain of Tarquin’s guard, and Prince of Adriata. His attention was fixed wholly on Amren—as if he knew where the biggest threat lay.

I stuck close to Feyre’s side as we were led into a palace crafted of shell-flecked walkways and walls, countless windows looking out to the bay and mainland or the open sea beyond.

“We have four main cities in my territory,” Tarquin said, looking over his muscled shoulder to Feyre. “We spend the last month of winter and first spring months in Adriata—it’s finest at this time of year.”

Feyre nodded. “It’s very beautiful.”

Tarquin stared at her long enough that I glared at him while Rhys said, “The repairs have been going well, I take it.”

That hauled Tarquin’s attention back. “Mostly. There remains much to be done. The back half of the castle is a wreck. But, as you can see, we’ve finished most of the inside. We focused on the city first—and those repairs are ongoing.”

“I hope no valuables were lost during its occupation,” Rhys said as I side eyed Amren who was holding back a wicked smile.

“Not the most important things, thank the Mother,” Tarquin said.

He led us into a vaulted room of white oak and green glass—overlooking the mouth of the bay. Feyre wondered off to the window as the rest of us seated, and to my surprise, Amren gave me a gentle push toward Rhys while she took the seat next to Varian.

I kept my eyes on Tarquin as he walked up to Feyre and asked, “How, exactly, do you fit within Rhysand’s court?”

“When was that any of your business?” I asked, raising a brow at him and Varian flashed his teeth at my tone.

Rhys kicked me under the table, making me hold myself back from slapping him on the back of the head as he said, “Feyre is a member of my Inner Circle. And is my Emissary to the Mortal Lands.” Tarquin merely nodded, taking a seat as Feyre slid into the one of the other side of Rhys.

“Do you have much contact with the mortal realm?” Cresseida questioned, across from me.

Rhys filled my glass with wine as he said, “I prefer to be prepared for every potential situation. And, given that Hybern seems set on making themselves a nuisance, striking up a conversation with the humans might be in our best interest.”

Varian drew his focus away from Amren and I long enough to say roughly, “So it’s been confirmed, then? Hybern is readying for war.”

“They’re done readying. War is imminent,” Rhys drawled, at last sipping from his wine.

“Yes, you mentioned that in your letter,” Tarquin said. His gaze drifted to Feyre before focusing on Rhys. “And you know that against Hybern, we will fight. We lost enough good people Under the Mountain. I have no interest in being slaves again. But if you are here to ask me to fight in another war, Rhysand—”

“That is not a possibility,” Rhys smoothly cut in, “and had not even entered my mind.”

Cresseida crooned to Feyre, “High Lords have gone to war for less, you know. Doing it over such an unusualfemale would be nothing unexpected.”

Feyre said, bored and flat and dull, “Try not to look too excited, princess. The High Lord of Spring has no plan to go to war with the Nigh Court.”

“And are you in contact with Tamlin, then?” A saccharine smile.

Feyre’s next words were quiet and slow. “There are things that are public knowledge, and things that are not. My relationship with him is well known. It’s current standing, however, is none of your concern. Or anyone else’s. But I do know Tamlin, and I know that there will be no internal war between courts—at least not over me, or my decisions.”

"What a relief, then," Cresseida said, sipping from her white wine before cracking a large crab claw, pink and white and orange. "To know we are not harboring a stolen bride—and that we need not bother returning her to her master, as the law demands. And as any wise person might do, to keep trouble from their doorstep." 

"I left of my own free will," Feyre said. "And no one is my master."

Cresseida shrugged. "Think that all you want, lady, but the law is the law. You are—were his bride. Swearing fealty to another High Lord does not change that. So it is a very good thing that he respects your decisions. Otherwise, all it would take would be one letter from him to Tarquin, requesting your return, and we would have to obey. Or risk war ourselves."

“Careful, princess,” I tsked, turning my cold gaze on her as Amren smirked from beside me—nothing but a warning on her face.

Rhysand sighed. “You are always a joy, Cresseida.”

Varian said, "Careful, High Lord. My sister speaks the truth."

Tarquin laid a hand on the pale table. "Rhysand is our guest—his courtiers are our guests. And we will treat them as such. We will treat them, Cresseida, as we treat people who saved our necks when all it would have taken was one word from them for us to be very, very dead." 

I sent the princess and feline smile, sipping my wine. Only a glare was her response.

The High Lord of Summer shook his head and said to Rhys, "We have more to discuss later, you and I. Tonight, I'm throwing a party for you all on my pleasure barge in the bay. After that, you're free to roam in this city wherever you wish. You will forgive its princess if she is protective of her people. Rebuilding these months has been long and hard. We do not wish to do it again any time soon." 

Cresseida’s eyes grew dark, haunted.

"Cresseida made many sacrifices on behalf of her people," Tarquin offered gently. "Do not take her caution personally." 

"We all made sacrifices," I said, the icy boredom now shifting into something razor-sharp. "And you now sit at this table with your family because of the ones Feyre. So you will forgive me, Tarquin, if I tell your princess that if she sends word to Tamlin, or if any of your people try to bring her to him, their lives will be forfeit."

Even the sea breeze died as Feyre stiffened in her seat, along with Cresseida.

"Do not threaten me in my own home, Aurora," Tarquin said. "My gratitude goes only so far." 

"It's not a threat," I countered, the crab claws on my plate cracking open. "It's a promise." 

They all looked to Rhys, waiting for his response.

"I plan to back up my assassin on that promise," he simply said.

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

tag list: @waytoomanyteenagefeels @anuttellaa @mybestfriendmademe @cuethedepession @emma-andrea1

[moodymelanist]

Cassian casually ponders if he should get a haircut and Nesta trying to be supportive but caves and tells him how much she loves his hair

so I was scrolling through my inbox for something to do for @nessianweek day 4 and this ended up being the winning prompt. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did anon hahaha

Read on AO3 here!

✵✵✵✵✵✵ Cassian

Cassian growled in annoyance as his hair slipped out of the loose bun he’d thrown it in for what felt like the thousandth time this morning, motioning for a time-out so he could fix it. 

“Again?” Azriel asked, fixing Cassian with an exasperated look before lowering his hands. “At least make it quick.”

Cassian, Azriel, Gwyn, and Nesta had a standing Saturday morning gym session, and Cassian and Azriel were wrapping up their workout with some light sparring while Nesta and Gwyn were doing their ab circuit. Cassian had been looking forward to this all week, but it was hard to stay focused on the fight when his hair kept slipping out of its bun every five seconds.

“Sorry, I'm sorry,” Cassian answered. He picked the offending hair tie up off the ground and hastily pulled his hair back into a ponytail, hoping this time would be the time it stuck. “Ready?”

“For you to cut your hair?” Azriel quipped back. “I was born ready.”

Cassian laughed as he settled back into his fighting stance. “I’m not allowed to cut my hair.”

“Says who?” Azriel responded, mirroring Cassian’s stance back at him.

“Technically, nobody.” Cassian circled Azriel for a few moments, eventually feinting to his right and trying to sneak in a hit to the left, but Azriel didn’t fall for it. “I just value my life.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t be that mad,” Azriel said, chuckling. “It’s just hair. It’ll grow back.”

“Easy for you to say,” Cassian said back. He stayed light on his feet and dodged the jab Azriel tried to throw his way. “You and Rhys are practically bald compared to me.”

“Just ask her once we’re done,” Azriel suggested, recovering quickly from his missed hit. “Maybe then you can actually beat me without using all those time-outs.”

“Fuck you,” Cassian replied playfully. “I could beat you any day of the week.”

Azriel snorted. “Not today.”

The two of them swapped half-hearted trash talk until Azriel decisively won the fight, refusing to drop his smirk even after they headed back to the locker room for quick showers. Cassian was more than happy to play sore loser; despite what Azriel claimed, Cassian had won enough rounds over the years that he was fine not being the victor today. There was always next week, anyway.

They both showered and changed into a fresh set of clothes, grabbing their bags and water bottles before leaving the locker room to meet their respective girlfriends. Nesta and Gwyn were sitting on one of the couches near the entrance waiting for them, both looking freshly showered and dressed after their own workouts.

“Hey sweetheart,” Cassian said once he and Azriel were close enough.

Nesta looked up from where she and Gwyn had been chatting, a soft smile forming once she met his eyes. “Hey.”

“Good workout?” Gwyn asked, though she was clearly focused on Azriel.

“Yeah,” Azriel replied. He held out his hand and Gwyn quickly reached out and took it, letting him haul her to her feet with a happy grin. “We actually had a question for the two of you.”

Nesta similarly let Cassian pull her to her feet and fixed them with a cautious look. “Oh?”

“Azriel thinks I should cut my hair,” Cassian told her, mentally preparing for her reaction.

“I see,” Nesta replied slowly. “What do you think?”

Cassian exchanged a glance with Azriel before deciding to just go for it. “It’s always getting in the way at the gym, so…”

“When’s the last time you had short hair, anyway?” Gwyn questioned as the four of them started walking toward the door. They all parked in the same garage, so could continue their conversation as they headed toward their cars. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with it.”

“Maybe high school?” Cassian mused. He’d gotten regular haircuts all throughout his childhood, but once he’d gotten to college he’d missed one too many and had decided to just go with it. “I started growing it out in college and never looked back.”

“He looks like me,” Azriel added, holding the door open for them. Cassian took over to hold it for Nesta and slung his arm around her shoulder once everyone was outside. 

“Just not as broody,” Cassian teased with a little chuckle. Gwyn couldn’t hold back her own laugh, but she winked up at Azriel to let him know she was mostly joking.

“Are you really serious about cutting it?” Nesta asked, looking at Cassian with a pinched expression.

“A little bit,” Cassian lied. He knew good and well how much she loved his long hair, but he was in too deep now. Might as well see her reaction through to the end. “Would you hate it?”

“I wouldn’t hate it,” Nesta said slowly. “It would just. Take some getting used to.”

“Translation: she would hate it,” Gwyn chimed in. “And then me and Em would have to hear all about it until your hair grew back out.”

“No I wouldn’t,” Nesta argued, her voice a little too high-pitched to be believable. “I’d be supportive!”

“You don’t have to lie, Nesta,” Gwyn replied with a laugh. “You’re amongst friends.”

“If Cassian wanted to cut all his hair off, I’d be all for it,” Nesta lied right through her teeth. Cassian couldn’t help but grin at how aggressively she was defending her support of his hypothetical haircut when they could all tell how much she would hate it. “We could stop by the salon right now if he wanted to!” 

The four of them got into the elevator, Azriel pressing the button for the third floor while Cassian leaned over and hit the button for the fifth floor. “Sweetheart, I’m touched.”

“You should be,” Nesta said primly. “I don’t care if you’re bald or your hair’s as long as Rapunzel’s. I’d still have you.”

Cassian couldn’t help but melt. Every time Nesta did or said something to show how much she cared about him, he just wanted to bury his face in her hair and never let her go. Some of that must have shown on his face, because Gwyn and Azriel simultaneously rolled their eyes while Nesta’s softened around the edges the longer she looked at Cassian.

“And on that note,” Azriel said back just as the elevator made it to the third floor. “I think it’s time for us to go. You proved your point, Cass.”

“Keep it PG until you get back to the house,” Gwyn teased. “There are cameras in here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cassian responded, laughing as he waved them off. As if what he and Nesta got up to being recorded was supposed to turn him off . “See you two next week.”

Once the elevator made it to the fifth floor, Nesta turned and looked up at Cassian with a question in her eyes. “What did Azriel mean?”

“By what?” Cassian asked, reaching into his pocket for the car keys.

“That you’d proved your point.”

“Oh. I just told him there’s no way I’d actually cut my hair because I know how much you’d hate it.”

“I wouldn’t hate it.”

“Yeah, you would.”

“Okay,” Nesta admitted with a sigh as she slid into the passenger seat. “Maybe I would.”

“I’m not cutting my hair anytime soon, Nes,” Cassian reassured her as he turned on the car.

“You better fucking not,” she grumbled. “What else would I have to pull you around by?”

He just smirked at the massive opening she’d left him. “I have some suggestions.”

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @charming-butt-insane | @oversizedbats | @melphss | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @autumnbabylon | @live-the-fangirl-life | @julemmaes | @that-little-red-head | @jmoonjones | @sayosdreams | @thewayshedreamed | @hiimheresworld | @brieq | @pearlfortears | @swankii-art-teacher | @nerdperson524 | @snickerdoodlechittybangbang | @imsointobooks | @nesquik-arccheron | @sweet-pea1 | @champanheandluxxury | @dustjacketmusings | @mrs-shadowsinger04 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @goddess-aelin | @arinbelle | @talkfantasytome | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @duskandstarlight | @letstakethedawn | @vidalinav | @c-e-d-dreamer | @dealfea | @katekatpattywack | @burningsnowleopard

[incorrect-random-fandom]

Rhys, to Gwyn: This is Azriel, he hates himself and never smiles but he also has wings, doesn’t know how to make bracelets or open up about his feelings, is a sore loser, and giggles when you call him baby.

Gwyn, handing over cash: I’ll take him.

[shallyne]

(Are We) Out Of The Woods (Ep.)

Bonus Epilogue of my fic for my giftee @starfall-spirit for @acotargiftexchange

Words: about 1k

It has been seven years since that dreadful morning that Rhys had woken up and found his mother gone. Seven years since he rescued her from a psychopath that had held a grudge against his father. Seven years since he met his wife. Well, seven years in the mortal world.

Never in his life would Rhys have thought that he'd wake up that morning, literally living his nightmare but nonetheless it has been the beginning of his happily ever after.

Time was flying since that day but it also felt like that initial day was a hundred years ago. Maybe the cause of this was that Velaris didn't have any time, it was nearly impossible to measure any time in the enchanted forest, Rhys had tried. He had at least five different models in their cabin that were fine but he still didn't crack the code of measuring the forest's time, if there even was a code. It had its own rules and Rhys was interested in learning them one by one.

But it was Christmas and Christmas meant there wasn't any theorizing or experimenting or writing books, Christmas was for family and right now, his son was crouching beside Rhys, trying to form snowballs with his small hands. He was biting his bottom lip, exactly like Feyre did when she was concentrating. After a very long time, his wife had picked up a paintbrush again and when she was focused on her paintings, Rhys used the time to admire her. He often did that, in different scenarios during their lives and he was falling more in love every single time. It was his favorite thing, finding out how she ticked. The way she played with Nyx, the way she held a paintbrush, the way she grunted when she laughed and the blush that crept on her cheeks right after. The way she scrunched her nose when someone complimented her and the way she frowned when she was disappointed and the way she crossed her arms when she closed up, an old habit from being alone for centuries. The way she rubbed her arms when she got overwhelmed and the way her dimples showed when she suppressed a laugh, the way her freckles looked like a constellation of stars that Rhys loved to trace, with his fingers or his lips. The way so many traits of hers were mirrored with Nyx.

“Daddy!” his four year old dragged him out of his thoughts, “Look!” he said proudly, extending his hand that held a snowball.

Rhys smiled, “Perfect! Put it on your pile,” he pointed to the small pile of snowballs that already waited to be used. Nyx did exactly that and when he leaned forward, Rhys caught a glimpse of Feyre's silhouette in the window of his family's mountain cabin, she threw her head back and laughed at something Mor said, who stood beside and seemed to refill Feyre's glass.

“Alright,“ Rhys said, looking at his son. “Are you ready?”

“Yes!” Nyx giggled, his nose slightly red from the cold.

He raised his hand and Nyx high-fived enthusiastically, “This year uncle Azzy won't win the snowball fight.” Rhys spoke.

Nyx stormed right past Rhys as he opened the door of the cabin, making a beeline for Feyre and clinged to her legs. “We won, mommy! Me and daddy won!”

Mor snorted, “Rhys won? That's new.”

Cassian followed Rhys into the cabin, chuckling at Mor's comment, “That was all Nyx's doing.”

Mor shrugged as if to say, makes sense, but it was his sister who actually said it aloud. “He also never won alone without cheating. Good job, Nyxie! I knew you could do it.”

Nyx giggled as Feyre helped him out of his winter coat. Rhys walked past the couch, ruffling his sister's hair as he did so, and joined Feyre at the kitchen island. “I never cheated, you're just a sore loser.” Selene had cried out, slapping his hand away.

Mor murmured something to Azriel and Cassian that Rhys didn't deem to answer as he reached his wife, kissing her and wrapping his arm around her waist as Nyx ran back to Selene and climbed into the seat beside her, telling the tale of how pixies played hide and seek with him and how he befriended a girl named Maia, a Nymoh that was his age, the day before they came back home to celebrate christmas with the whole family.

“Do you need help, mom?” Rhys asked, turning to his mother who was stirring a pot on the stove.

She shook her head, smiling, “No, Mor and Feyre already helped cut the vegetables while you boys attacked each other with snowballs.” she chuckled, “I'm glad there aren't any injuries on any front.”

Feyre chuckled, then Rhys and her both simultaneously, “I don't know what you're talking about.”

They smiled at each other as Rhys's mother only responded with a sigh.

Rhys sat down, pulling Feyre on his lap as she wrapped her arms around his neck and together they watched their family bickering, exchanging stories and laughing as the sun disappeared below the horizon and the atmosphere calmed down. Nyx sat on Mor's lap as Cassian made up stories about Nyx's toy dinosaurs. Azriel went out to pick up Amren an hour before dinner, Feyre and Rhys answered his mother's questions about Velaris.

When evening bled into night, everyone went to bed and when it was only Feyre and Rhys left, Feyre raised her head from where it rested on Rhys's shoulder, “I've been living in an enchanted forest for centuries,” she said quietly, “but this, just an evening your family, our family…it's the most magical thing. It's everything I've dreamed of.” she pressed a soft kiss on his mouth, barely there but it lingered there for a long time. “Everything in Velaris is based on tales but after…after this all started, I didn't expect to get a happy ever after.”

Rhys twirled a lock of Feyre's golden-brown hair around his finger and kissed her temple, “You deserve your happy ever after, Feyre, more than anything. You deserve having a loving family, you deserve that Velaris was fully restored.” She smiled, silver lining her eyes exactly as the day after Nyx's birth, when a faerie found Feyre and told her the news that the center of the forest was fully green again. After Rhys had released his books about Velaris, about Feyre, it had begun to slowly grow back, especially after his books had kicked off and Feyre's story had become a bestseller. Although when Nyx was born, Velaris had reacted in a way nobody else expected, so only in twenty-four hours, the forest was fully restored for the first in a hundred years.

“You deserve it.” Rhys repeated, drawing circles with his fingers on Feyre's back.

She laid her hand on his cheek, smiling through her tears, “We deserve it, Rhys.”she whispered and kissed him.

And they all lived happily ever after.

[vidalinav]

Do you still take fic prompts? I had a thought. When Nesta went to those taverns, she didn’t just drink. She listened to music and played cards. I’d love a fic (Nessian ofc) where Nesta and the bat boys play cards/poker at the river house and it’s just friendly banter. Maybe Rhys/Nesta bonding when she beats him, Azriel using his shadows to cheat, and Cassian just happy to be there with his mate and his brothers.

I probably won't write this tbh, but IF I did...

100% percent Nesta is beating everyone. However, the person who feels really bitter about it is Azriel. Azriel is a sore fucking loser and he doesn't let Rhys join or have a go against Nesta, he's like no, let's go again. Nesta's always up for the challenge and she gets this maniacal glee from watching Azriel fume. He keeps running his hands through his hair and he's glaring because the commentary of the peanut gallery is "omg, is Nesta beating him?"

Nesta sure is.

She's beating him so bad that they're not even playing for money anymore because he is sooooooo bad and she's going to have his soul by the end and she pities the man. But the pity, makes Azriel more irrate and pissy. He's wild with rage. They've never seen him this murderous before.

Nesta is unfazed. She is calm. She is unstoppable.

At some point, Cassian is like dude let Nesta sleep and he sets her on his lap and she plays from there while he tucks her close to his chest. He checks on her the whole time and Nesta's not the least bit phased. She's not even tired. She's like do you like Azriel's shoes? His watch? I'm sure I can win them right off of him.

To which Azriel almost bites his fist. He can't even cheat. Not that he would because it's against his morals, but also because he's tried and she still wins. It's like she knows every move before he makes it.

Rhys is very very concerned and equally intrigued and somewhat frightened, because if his spymaster can be beaten by a 25 year old who hasn't even played this game as long as he's been alive, then Nesta just might a lot more conniving than he gives her credit for. Because he watches her play, and very similar to her dancing, she should really not have this amount of skill. Both in the game and in the face, because she's sneaky. She gambles well.

But after all of this, Nesta's like okay I'm done (happy face) and he's like lets play a different game, just one. Because by now he's pleading. This is his identity on the line and he's having a crisis, and so Nesta appeases and... she wins at that too.

She likes games, she merely says shrugging and Cassian's like... you know maybe we should rethink game nights and Rhys is like I so call dips on being her partner next week. To which Cassian and Rhys start fighting because clearly mate trumps all other options in game partners and Rhys is like but I have bribery. Obvi, Cassian is going to win that one.

Just like he won in mates.

[starguides]

↪    𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑  : shoot me a dm !    always accepting, expect slow to post.

featuring: @godfuse.

IS IT FOR THE GLORY OF THE GAME, OR ... is it for something else entirely that the two boys often find themselves here : meeting 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝 with a familiar creek to their left, babbling softly as tresses of water turn over stones. time and time again the son of ares would find the unclaimed around the second hour, and here they would fight. who would win depended on the day. but rhys never was a sore loser.

" we doing this again? " 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚜, the young man does not sound at all tired of their frequent meetings here during capture the flag. instead, he surges forward off a boulder he had occupied & lounged upon ; shield springing to life upon his wrist in preparation to block a 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 of a blade.

[rhysie]

weird headcanons:

what they smell like: jasmine, sea salt, lemon verbena. very fresh, citrusy & warm.

how they sleep: on his side, if he's sleeping well. though he tends to shift a lot, trying out different positions to get the most comfortable. he does not get a lot of sleep, usually awake more often than not during the night. this is either due to overthinking to the point he's not able to actually fall asleep, or he's waken up by nightmares.

what music they enjoy: i don't think rhys listens to music often, but if he does it's dark, eerie instrumental. think along the lines of: shostakovich, liszt, & berlioz.

how much time they spend in the morning getting ready: considering he wears pretty much a different variation of the same outfit, it doesn't take long for him to decide on what he's wearing, ( unless he has a special event planned. ) he usually just showers & eats breakfast, then his morning is either filled with training or paperwork. his skincare routine takes the most time. 😇

favorite thing to collect: he is a big history buff & likes to collect anything old, otherworldly, ect. his ancient book collection is pretty vast. he also collects models of the stars, planets, & different courts. ( most he's made himself. )

left or right hand: left handed.

favorite touristy thing to do while traveling: exploring the other court's libraries, museums & nightlife. he tends to usually try to blend in & just experience what the cities have to offer, not as a high lord.

favorite kind of weather: despite having knee pain when it rains, it brings comfort to him. thunderstorms at night, when he can hear the wind & rain against his window. he also has a soft spot for days with an easy breeze, where the sun isn't too hot & he can fly without much resistance. he is not a fan of super warm weather.

weird / obscure fear they have: besides the obvious, he doesn't have too many weird fears. however he is grossed out by insects & would rather not go near them, thank you!

the one carnival / arcade game they always win without fail: darts, ring toss, anything that requires good aim. ( he does not like to play test your strength around cassian ... he's a sore loser. )

tagged by: stole this from an old blog of mine hehe tagging: @feydarling & if you've made it this far ... you :3

[broodybatboy]

Gwynriel Headcanons: Cozy & Festive ❄️🌲

A/N: I finished Dash&Lily on Netflix and now I'm watching Love Actually. Grab a cup of cocoa and read some heartwarming Gwynriel headcanons

Gwyn gets really into knitting. She's naturally crafty & good at everything.

Nesta, Cass, Emerie and Az wearing gorgeous knit sweaters

Azriel asking if she knows how to make mittens too because his hands get cold 🥺

Gwyn making a matching set of mittens & a beanie for Azriel and Azriel ONLY

Az proudly wearing his Berdara bespoke and looking like a cozy sexy hunk

the rest of IC getting super jealous (as they should)

Midnight flying trips to see the festive faelights decorating Velaris.

Gwyn's beaming smile & wide-eyed awe. Azriel's soft eyes and secret smiles staring at Gwyn's face. It's prettier than the lights.

Late-night hot cocoa and deep intimate conversations. Extra marshmallows and whipped cream for Gwyn, of course.

Azriel getting a hot cocoa mustache

Gwyn: "Shadowsinger, have you ever thought of growing out your beard a little?"

Gwyn, mumbles: "You'd look hot with scruff."

Az:  "What was that?"

Gwyn: "Nothing." 😳

Azriel tells Gwyn all about the IC’s Solstice traditions and the snowball fight

Azriel trying to be suave and cool casually bragging about all his wins to impress Berdara

Gwyn totally amused that he’s being cocky knowing damn well he lost last year

Gwyn teasing Az about his crushing defeat, being a stubborn sore loser, and this silly cocky attitude.

Azriel: 😑

Gwyn: "So is your goal this year just to win or total annihilation?"

Total annihilation, obviously.

Gwyn and Azriel spend the week before the snowball fight perfecting his plan to completely wreck Rhys & Cass. They devise snow density ratios, sphere-forming techniques, psychological analysis of Cass & Rhys' strengths and weaknesses

Azriel: "I surveyed the ground. The best vantage point is beside the pine tree. The snow fort should be approximately this meters tall..."

Gwyn: "Cassian has a height advantage for throwing. Rhys is shorter which is better for dodging. Cass is more easily provoked. If they start attacking each other you can use the overhand technique...

He wins. Thank you, Gwyneth Berdara.

The cold and stormy weather makes training a little harder than usual. One night, they're dripping in rain. The floor is slick and they end up falling and wrestling on the ground. Cue intense sexual tension and a dramatic stare into each other's eyes.

The nights when it's unbearably cold they stay inside just talking or reading with each other

Azriel has a humongous and cozy blanket. Gwyn loves it and looks positively adorable all snuggled up.

For some reason, they can always fall asleep when they're near each other. For some reason, they always wake up leaning against each other on the sofa. One particularly cold morning, they wake up spooning. But they're just friends, of course.

Gwyn's cold breath forming small clouds and Az's shadowing swirling around it. Curious, innit?

Azriel looking devilishly handsome in a black cashmere turtleneck

Snowflakes in Azriel's hair

Gwyn's freckled nose and cheeks tinging rosy red

Gwyn absentmindedly humming Solstice choir music and old festive songs

Gwyn, Azriel, Nesta and Cassian decorating the House of Wind with garlands, lights, holly, and evergreens.

Nesta and Cassian kissing under the mistletoe. Then, making out under the mistletoe.

Azriel catches clumsy Gwyn from falling while putting up lights

Cassian breaking a box of ornaments and Nesta shouting at him

Gwyn and Cassian wrapping themselves in tinsel

Nesta: "Where did they get bells?!?!"

Azriel: *exasperated sigh*

Gwyn and Cass: *jingle jingle* Okay let's try running faster! *jinglejinglejinglejingle*

The gang traveling to Illyria and surprising Emerie. They decorate her shop and share some mulled wine and peppermint tea.

The girls build Frosty the Snowbat. It's quite impressive and large. It’s modeled after Az’s wingspan…for reasons

The gang makes a point to give back and donate food, clothes, and toys (because a certain High Lord can't be bothered to care about his citizens 🙄) #sorrynotsorry

Gwyn organizes a children's choir in the village. Nesta gives dance lessons. Chef Cass makes a feast. Emerie gives out gifts. It's an Illyrian celebration spectacular!

Azriel helps all of them. He's quite popular with the kids. He's the baritone in Gwyn's choir.

The show is a rousing success and their singing earns a standing ovation

Gwyn knows a recipe to make what are essentially fireworks (the evil lightsinger knows how to make evil colorful lights in the sky OooO she's so dangerous)

Azriel doesn't want Gwyn to get burned. He flies them up into the sky and uses his shadows to help set them off. It's bright and magical. Everyone is in awe, especially, Gwyn.

She thanks him for his help and they share a sweet moment under a snowy tree hidden from everyone.

Azriel the Illyrian Grinch's heart grew three sizes that day.

Gwyn jumping into Azriel arms excitedly to hug him every time she greets him (she's really cheery around the holidays and he’s always super warm)

Both of them savoring in each other's warmth and lingering in their embraces

Frosty but sunny morning trips into town for holiday shopping for all their friends.

Gwyn is a beautiful writer and makes her own cards. She writes the most loving and heartfelt notes inside. She brings Nesta and Emerie to tears. Cassian is choked up and practically squishes her.

Azriel is stunned and so moved that he can't form words and his chest feels funny. He waits until they are alone. He doesn't know what to say so he just hugs her for a very long time. He kisses her on the forehead and tells her how grateful he is for their friendship (oh these sweet idiots)

Despite the freezing cold, this holiday season feels warm. They feel the joy, they feel cared for, they feel loved. The long cold nights feel less lonely with each other.

Who else feels warm and fuzzy? already working on a part 2 ☺️

[rhysismydaddy]

After Midnight pt. 3 (Feysand)

Part 1 | Part 2

Uhhh this is kinda long and took me FOREVER to write which was v annoying. Disclaimer: stole a line from Grey’s Anatomy what’s new

____________________________________________________________

~Feyre~

I’m aware that pacing is one of my bad habits. My ex told me all the time how it drove him crazy to watch me go back and forth, back and forth. Most of the time, I can catch myself doing it and stop. 

But right now, I think I’d find a way to pace even if I were chained to a tree. 

Because I’m so freaking nervous about Rhysand coming over that I’m practically coming out of my skin. 

Which is ridiculous, because the man has seen me naked, for gods sake. 

He’s done more than just see, too. 

And yet the thought of him staying here, sleeping next to me all night, has me ready to run for the hills. Somehow, sharing a bed is more intimate to me than having sex to me. 

It’s fucked up, I know. 

But the last man I shared a bed with... 

There was a level of trust there, and it was broken. And knowing that this is the only way to rebuild the ability to give that trust doesn’t make it any easier. 

I also know that if I go downstairs, I’ll end up drinking myself stupid to make this easier, so I’ve asked Rhysand to just meet me up here. And to make myself even more miserable, I’m early. 

I mean, I’m always a few minutes early, but I somehow forgot we decided to meet later than usual and got here an hour ago. 

Which gave me plenty of time to start freaking out. 

A knock on the door snaps me out of my nerves-induced pace, and I tiptoe to the door and look through the peephole, both excited and anxious when I see Rhysand there. 

Just like last week, he's wearing dark pants and a thin white shirt that does nothing to hide the body underneath. I think he does it to drive me crazy, honestly, because the sight of all that tattooed muscle-

“Are you going to let me in?”

Shit.

I swing the door open, already blushing, and say, “Sorry.”

He looks down at me, full lips pulling into a smirk. “Hi, Feyre.”

The way he says my name is somehow so full of innuendo it threatens to send my cheeks scarlet, but I say politely, “Hi, Rhys.”

He walks into the room, dropping a backpack I refuse to acknowledge on the floor. “How was your week?”

Well, I spent the entire seven days fretting about what might happen tonight and was barely able to eat anything, so not that great. “It was fine. Yours?”

His lips twitch. “Also fine.”

Then he gives the biggest, fakest yawn I’ve ever seen--throwing in a stretch, too--and says, “Well, I’m exhausted. Want to go to bed?”

He’s so damn nice, it makes me want to slap him. “Okay,” I agree, walking to one side of the bed and pulling the covers back. 

I’m already dressed in my sleep shorts and a tank top, but grabs his bag and heads to the bathroom. 

I can do this, I tell myself, not at all believing it. He’s nice, and it’s just sleeping. Most women would kill to sleep next to someone who looks like him. 

The last part of that thought is confirmed a second later when Rhysand steps out of the bathroom in low-hanging shorts and nothing else. 

His tan chest is on full display, and even though I’ve seen and touched every inch of it, I find myself studying it once again. 

I suddenly wish I had a paintbrush and an empty canvas.

The urge shocks me. I haven’t thought about painting, haven’t yearned to pick up a brush, since before everything happened. If I’m being honest, long before everything happened. 

“I thought we weren’t doing anything sexual tonight,” he murmurs, voice a little deeper. 

“We aren’t,” I confirm, forcing my eyes to his perfectly innocent chin. 

“Well then put your horny eyes away,” he scolds with a smile, walking over to flop on his half of the bed. 

I smother a laugh with my hand and get in the bed next to him, trying to ignore the warmth leaking from his skin to mine. 

Neither of us move to turn the small lamp off, so we lay there in the soft light, perfectly silent. 

I’m lying down in a nice hotel room with a good looking man. My body is relaxed, and I am calm. 

Rhysand is a very nice person, and even though I’ve known him for only three weeks, I don’t think he’d ever hurt me.

But his soft, even breathing is a constant reminder that he’s next to me, and the weight in the bed is too familiar, too close. Pressing my eyes shut doesn’t help, because it just allows me to think about the past two years and everything that happened in them. 

My heart’s beating so fast and hard I’m surprised he can’t hear it, and a cool, horrible sweat breaks out over my back. 

Tears threaten to spill over, and I’m discretely trying to take deeper breaths and force myself to calm down.

It doesn’t work in the slightest, so I throw the covers off, turn on my side away from him, and pretend he isn’t there. 

Which becomes pretty damn impossible when a warm hand lands on my shoulder. “Feyre?”

“I’m asleep,” I lie. 

His hand gets a little firmer, turning me on my back so he can see my face. Soft, understanding eyes notice everything written so painfully clearly on it, and he says, “You know what? I’m actually not that tired.”

I think I could love him for that sentence alone. 

He rolls over and leans to reach into his bag. Sitting up, he throws a deck of cards on the bed between us and asks, “Fancy a hand of cards?”

Thank the gods above for warm, compassionate hookers. 

“Sure.”

I sit up across from and diligently ignore the sight of all those tattoos as I watch him expertly shuffle and deal the cards. He looks so serious that it comes as a surprise when he murmurs, “I’m going to cheat if you start beating me.”

My lips curve into a smile. “That probably won’t happen. I’m horrible at cards.”

“Good. I’m a sore loser.”

One hand in and I see that he was serious. He completely kicks my ass without a shred of hesitation or mercy, but I don’t even care because I’m finally starting to relax. It’s easy to when he’s in front of me, making jokes and laughing and smiling. 

He deals another hand without asking, somehow reading me well enough to know I need it. “If I win this hand, you have to answer a question.”

Oh, gods.

This is a recipe for disaster, because if I were him, I’d want to know why exactly I’m so fucked up. 

But I can’t exactly turn him down when he’s been so kind and easy-going about everything. “Okay. Same if I win.”

“You won’t, but okay.”

Cocky bastard.

A few minutes later, I realize his confidence was well-deserved because once again, he beats me. “I think you might’ve cheated there, but you can ask your question.”

I’m mentally praying it’s nothing serious, because I don’t know if I could handle opening up to him while looking into his pretty eyes and-

“If you were arrested for a crime, what would it most likely be?”

I find myself laughing as I look to see he’s completely serious. “That’s what you want to know?”

He smiles back at me and just shrugs. 

“Probably tax fraud,” I admit, laughing again when his eyebrows shoot up. “And before you ask, no, that isn’t why I’m well-off. I just have never understood those stupid forms, so I’ll probably mess up and end up in prison one of these days.”

Rhysand chuckles, grabbing the cards to deal another hand. 

“What about you?”

Putting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward like he’s telling me a secret, he whispers, “Road rage. I’m a really angry driver, and I find screaming at people helps.”

He says it without any remorse at all, so it’s pretty believable. 

“Same deal?” I ask, looking at the cards in front of me and knowing without a doubt I’m about to lose again. 

Almost an hour later, we’ve asked each other the most ridiculous, absurd questions we can think of. I now know he’s afraid of sharks, doesn’t believe in black holes, and was voted most likely to succeed in high school. 

He’s also found out about my sisters, my strong dislike of cilantro, and my dream of moving to France and working in the Louvre.

My stomach hurts from laughing so much, and there’s a quiet kind of peace inside me I haven’t felt in years.

We’re laying down, propped on our elbows, when we finish yet another game, and he puts his cards down and looks at me with unusually serious eyes.

I know he’s about to break our unspoken rule to not ask any personal questions, but for some reason, I don’t stop him. 

“Why don’t you paint anymore?”

His tone tells me that if I want him to drop it, he will. 

But... I want to tell him. I want to tell him what I went through, how it changed me. How it both broke me and made me stronger. 

So I do. 

“The last time I painted was over a year ago. I know it sounds cliche, but my art... it comes from a place inside of me that just isn’t there anymore.”

Rhysand nods, even though what I said didn’t make that much sense. “Do you think it’ll ever come back?”

“Yes,” I say, blushing and looking at his shoulder. I have no idea why I tell him, but I can’t seem to keep my fat mouth shut. “I actually wanted to paint earlier tonight.”

“Oh?” He gives me a knowing smile. “So those weren’t your horny eyes, they were your artist eyes?”

“Of course, you pervert.” They were both, to be honest, but I’m not about to tell him that when he’s looking at me like he just won the lottery. 

“Well, you can paint me anytime you want.” He gives me a wink and waggles his eyebrows. “I posed nude a couple times in college.”

He says that so casually it takes me a second to really hear and understand his words. “You went to college?”

Rhysand freezes, and I think about how I asked that question and want to smack myself. I didn’t have to sound so damn surprised, even if it did catch me off guard. “I didn’t mean to sound like that, I just... I shouldn’t have assumed-”

“Feyre, it’s okay. I just didn’t really realize I’d said that.”

“Okay.” 

There’s a moment of silence, and then he says something that completely surprises me. “I actually have a PhD.”

My mouth drops open, and he laughs. “In what?”

“War and Maritime History.”

For a few seconds, I just lay there and stare at him, mouth swaying in the breeze. “You have a PhD in history?”

It’s almost impossible to imagine this insanely handsome man sitting in a dim, dreary classroom, talking about something as dull as history. 

“I do.” His tone goes a little despondent as he murmurs, “I don’t use it, but I have it.”

He presses his lips together and reaches for the cards lying forgotten between us. I know I should listen to the silent cue, but I can’t stand seeing him like this. 

“Why don’t you use it?” I ask, making sure to keep my tone casual and inviting. I want to give him the same opportunity he gave me. 

He shuffles and deals, then looks at his hand and shakes his head, snatching up my cards to re-deal. At least he was honest about the cheating.

I hardly even notice, though, because he says, “I did for a few years. I was a professor at UVelaris.”

Now that, I can imagine. 

Him standing in front of a body of students, driving all the females crazy, lecturing and being the cool, funny professor everyone wants to have. 

“Not anymore?”

Rhysand shakes his head. “Didn’t pay enough.”

Something about his face tells me it’s time to drop it and change the subject. Which I guess makes it my turn to share.

So as I start to lose once again, I tell him, “I can’t go to sleep next to you because one day I woke up and my ex-fiance had locked me in our apartment.”

It’s blurted and quiet and a terrible way to spring that on someone, but he just says, “My hand is absolute garbage. You might actually win this one.”

“About time,” I mutter, weirdly relieved he didn’t start asking questions. Or worse, getting angry. 

It should probably concern me that he somehow knows and can read me well enough to find the perfect response, but I’m too busy marveling at how easy this all feels with him. 

Every minute of therapy is like a punch to the gut, but with Rhys... I feel like talking to someone who won’t judge, who won’t ever tell me what I should’ve done.

Pushing those thoughts out of my head, I actually concentrate on our game, and when I finally defeat him, I stick my tongue out at him and smile. 

He grins back, but something about it makes mine fall away. 

Because it’s his turn, and even though I’m prepared for the worst, I don’t know what it is until I hear it. 

“My cousin has a rare form of leukemia, and the university didn’t pay enough for me to cover her treatments.”

He says it quickly and quietly, just like I did, but it still carries a heavy punch that knocks the air out of my lungs. 

Because he... I don’t have the words to describe him. 

He gave up his dream job and does something he probably hates for his family. It’s the most selfless, heartbreaking thing I’ve ever heard. 

But I want to give him the space to say things at his own pace like he is for me. “Let’s play another hand. I’m feeling lucky.”

Rhysand nods, eyes looking relieved, and starts to deal again. 

My turn.

“My ex was really paranoid and thought I was cheating on him, and he had to go out of town for a work trip. That’s when he... I was locked in there for five days, and he took my phone and laptop, so I didn’t have a way to call for help.”

Rhys is silent for a long moment, jaw clenched tight. But when he speaks, it’s in the same calm, easy tone as always. “There’s not enough luck in the world for you to beat me this time.”

I laugh despite the heaviness of the words I just spoke, and even though it’s his turn, I keep talking. “I went a little crazy. I tore the place apart. I tried to break a window to get out, but we lived on the eighth floor and had Plexiglas windows.”

Our game is long forgotten at this point, and I know I should shut up, but talking to him... I can’t stop. “By the time he got back, I was... different. I was having panic attacks all the time and couldn’t bring myself to eat, and then he just strolls through the door like nothing happened.”

“And he was angry with me. For making such a mess. He hardly noticed I was a shell of who I used to be. Over time, he’d broken me down so completely he was used to it.” Taking a deep breath, I shrug and say, “So I left. I didn’t take the time to pack a bag, I just saw the open door and ran.”

“How long ago was that?” he asks, the first time he’s said something besides his endless taunts about cards.

“A year ago. I was with him for three. It took me a long time to leave him because he wasn’t always emotionally abusive and harsh. There were times when he’d be so sweet and good to me. I wrote it off as mood swings for a long time since I loved him so much.” I take a deep breath and push away the memories threatening to drag me under. “But I got out.”

I say it to him, even though it’s as much a reminder to myself. 

Rhysand smiles, reaching to slowly tuck my hair behind my ear. “And now you’re free.”

“I’m free,” I say, proud of myself for telling someone besides my shrink what happened. 

It’s the first time I’ve ever opened up about our relationship willingly, and even though it was a brief, abbreviated version of the full story, I’m happy with myself.

But it’s a bittersweet moment, because I can’t forget what Rhys told me.

I can’t forget why he’s here, what he’s been through. 

“I wish you were free, too,” I whisper. 

And gods, is it true. Even though I’m happy I found him, even though I’m grateful he’s helping me, I wish he was free to go back to teaching. I wish he didn’t have to carry this burden. 

I wish he wasn’t looking at me with enough sadness in his eyes to make my chest hurt. 

He doesn’t respond, and I don’t want him to feel pressured, so I say simply, “I’m tired.”

Rhys nods, sweeps the cards up, and tosses them back into his bag. Then we’re laying there staring at each other, and I’m noticing the way the light turns his skin a deep bronze and lights up his eyes.

Something feels different between us now that we know the dirty details of each other’s lives. It feels less like a transaction. 

It feels like he cares about me. 

I scoot forward and put my head on his chest, grateful he turns on his back so I don’t feel too trapped. 

His hand is on my hip, the other tucked behind his head, and as I put one leg over his, I think that I’ve never been this comfortable in my life. 

Which surprises me, but I’m not complaining. Especially not as the hand on my back starts moving across my back in small, soothing circles that make my breathing slow. 

Sleep comes for me quickly, but right before I close my eyes, I press a kiss to his chest and murmur, “Goodnight, Rhys.”

His response is the last thing I hear before I go to sleep, warm and safe in his arms. 

~

I don’t really remember where I am when I wake up. My eyes stay shut as I wiggle around a little, finding myself very warm and comfortable and happy.

It’s only when someone’s breath brushes the back of my neck that I remember where I am, and who I’m with. 

Rhysand is behind me, warm body wrapped around me. One arm is under my head, the other is mingled with mine, and his legs are tucked behind mine. His head is in the hollow of my neck, stubble tickling my skin slightly.

It’s been a long time since I’ve woken up in a man’s arms, and I’ve forgotten how good it feels. 

Careful not to move too much, I stretch my legs and arms out, enjoying the weight of his body on mine.

He must feel be stirring anyway, because next thing I know, his mouth is pressing against my neck in a soft, sleepy kiss that makes me smile. 

It’s natural and easy and it feels like we do this every morning. 

I trust him, I realize with a slight start. 

It’s insane to trust someone after such a short time of knowing each other, but I do. Especially after last night. 

He listened to me and made me feel heard without being overbearing or giving me pity. He’s been there for me through panic and sadness and somehow managed to make me smile regardless.

And I want him to know how much it means to me.

So I turn my head and meet his mouth with mine.

Rhysand doesn’t hesitate, sweeping his tongue into my mouth in a rich, hazy kiss that makes me immediately want more. His hand cradles my head, arms loosely wrapped around me. 

I turn around so I can put my hands in his hair, and I’m so lost in him I don’t even realize we’re violating our nothing-sexual rule. 

I don’t want you to touch me unless you want to. 

I attempt to pull away, but his mouth follows me, pressing kisses across my upper lip, the corner of my mouth. “Rhys,” I breathe, putting a hand on his shoulder to give myself room to think. 

He pulls away, violet eyes heavy hooded and happy. “Feyre.”

His voice is scratchy and his hair is ruffled and he looks so goddamn edible I can’t resist anymore. “I want to touch you. Please.”

It’s almost comical how quickly the drowsiness fades from his eyes. 

His full mouth opens and shuts, then repeats the process once again. And then he murmurs, “You never have to say please.”

Taking that as permission enough, I cup his face with my hands, running my thumb across his cheekbone. He leans into my touch, eyes drifting shut. 

I feel like I’m in a dream as I run them lightly down his neck, across his shoulders. 

I trace the lines of his tattoo until they stop, then my fingers explore his abs, the muscle tightening under them. 

And then I slip my hand past the loose waistband of his sleep shorts. 

Both of us react immediately. I completely stop breathing, mind going probably-permanently still at the feel of him in my hand, and Rhys’s eyes snap open so fast I watch as the dilate. 

We’re both staring at each other, the only thing breaking the utter silence in the room his shallow breathing. 

I run a finger over the length of him, then the tip, and he hisses my name. 

“Please,” I repeat, ignoring the fact that he said I didn’t need to ask. 

His jaw clenches as I wrap my hand around him, and he’s almost glaring at me as he says, “You’re going to fucking kill me.”

Fighting a smile, I start to move my hand and shrug. “This is about me, remember?”

He still wears a serious expression, but his lips twitch, so I keep going. 

I’m moving so slowly I think we’ll both be insane by the time this is over, but I can’t bring myself to speed up. His hips are moving slightly, pushing into my hand, and it’s addictive to watch him react to me. 

Rhys makes a low sound, then bites his lip as if to keep it in. 

Which is a mistake, since now I want to do it, too. 

Leaning in, I take that lip for myself, nibbling and sucking on it until he can’t take it anymore and starts kissing me again. 

I scoot a little closer and move my mouth to his neck, and all I can breathe or taste or think about is Rhys. 

A hand in my hair tells me this situation is unacceptable, and then his mouth is on mine again, desperate enough I take pity and move my hand faster. 

His body is tight with pent-up energy, like he’s determined to keep himself still and let me have my fun. 

One hand still between us, I run the other through his hair, pulling on it until he groans. I run my thumb over the end of him, and he mutters my name, voice holding a touch of warning that makes me smile. Even as I do it again. 

He curses, and then he’s falling apart in my hands, and I pull away to watch, just like I know he did with me. 

And it really is a sight to see. 

His muscles bunch tight, jaw even tighter, and his eyes drift close as his head goes back and a moan falls off his lips. His breathing is heavy and there’s a heavy, satisfied look to him that I can’t get enough of. 

Eventually, his eyes open again and find mine. 

Rhysand kisses me softly, then pulls back enough to smirk and say, “You’re welcome.”

A laugh bubbles out of me, and then the room falls back to silent. 

And I realize I’m laying in bed with him, laughing, and practically begging to give him pleasure.

Fuck. 

He gives me a strange look, cuing me into the fact that my panic is probably all over my face, so I smile, then roll out of the bed. “I have to go.”

“Interesting,” he states, tone making it clear he’s a filthy liar. A very amused liar.

I just roll my eyes and grab my bag, hoping that when I come out of the bathroom, he’ll be gone. 

No such luck. 

Ten minutes later, I’m fresh-faced and dressed, and he’s still lounging in bed, arm tucked behind his head. And the sight of all that beautiful, muscled, tattooed-

“You have your horny eyes on again.”

“You’re delusional,” I shoot back, mentally making a note to wear sunglasses around him at all times. 

“Come here.”

I shake my head, knowing where that’ll lead even without the look on his face.

Because after last night, things feel different. 

They feel casual.

Which is the exact opposite of what I wanted. I did this so I could find someone unattached and easy and... not him. He understands me better than I do, for gods’ sake. 

And he’s caring and gentle and so understanding, and my brain is just having a hard time keeping up. 

He opens his mouth to argue, but I throw a pillow at him from my safe spot halfway across the room. “I have to go to the museum.”

Technically, this is a lie. We’re on schedule for the next event. But I could go and get ahead. Which sounds like a great idea. 

“That’s not even remotely believable, but alright.” He rolls smoothly to his feet, remind me once again how comfortable he is in his skin. 

I look at the ceiling, and he makes an amused sound. “No self control. It’s sad, really.”

I hate him. 

Even though I’m grinning because it’s true. 

He throws on a dark shirt from his bag and steps into some jeans, all while I adamantly study my very interesting, unpainted nails. 

And then we’re walking down the hallway to the elevator and standing across from each other. If I had a knife-

No. If I had a spoon, I could cut the tension in there with ease. 

He smiles like he knows what I’m thinking, and I almost weep with relief as the doors open to the empty morning lobby. 

Rhysand moves to get out, but I’m going down another floor to the garage, so I stay put, firm in my resolve to appear unaffected. 

That plan goes out the window pretty quickly, considering he narrows his eyes at me, marches across the small elevator floor, pulls me into his arms, and kisses me. 

I kiss him back without hesitation, both of us only pulling away when the door bings unhappily. 

What the hell was that?

Did he just... kiss me goodbye? 

What the hell was that?

I don’t have time to ask, because he steps into the lobby, looks me up and down thoroughly, and says, “See you next week, Feyre.”

Oh, gods. 

I have to see him again. 

Because even though I know I shouldn’t, there’s absolutely no way I’ll cancel. 

I’m a stupid, stupid woman. 

But I replay last night and this morning in my head, and as the elevator starts dropping to the garage, I realize I don’t even care. 

_______________________________________________________

Part 4

Tags: @cursebreaker29 @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @tswaney17 @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @savemesoon8 @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace @trinitybailey2003 @zukos-simp @that-other-pineapple @booksofthemoon @stardelia @awesomelena555 @queen-of-glass @whilma-warfstache @highqueenofelfhame @spyofthenightcourt @samcortlandisaginger

[eadanga]

Broken Without You Part 8

MC stood staring at the plains of the ranch. When she saw Sawyer this morning he greeted her with a small smiles but MC could see the sadness in his eyes. MC walked around the ranch sadly I don’t wanna leave Sawyer but this is also a great job opportunity. She walked around thinking about what she should do.  Then she looked up and smiles at a familiar spot This is where he first asked me

****

MC walked down the road to her house after a long day of school.

“Hey MC!” She turns around and sees Sawyer

“Hi Sawyer what’s up?”

“Come on I wanna show you something”

“I don’t know I have to get home”

“You’re doing something?”

“Yes homework”

“Great” He grabs her hand and pulls her along

“Sawyer!” She laughs “I didn’t agree to this”

“Come on MC this will only take a second”

He leads her down the path to his ranch and into an open field. She raises an eyebrow “You wanted to show me an empty field?”

Sawyer chuckles “Ok so I may have lied a bit I wanted to ask you something but I wanted it to be in the perfect spot”

“What is it?”

“MC…” He takes both of her hands in his “Will you be my girlfriend?”

MC smiles “Yes Sawyer”

He scoops her up in his arms and kisses her deeply “I’m so glad you said yes”

“Did you expect me to say no?”

He laughs “I was worried a bit”

“Well no need to worry”

He smiles and kisses her again

****

MC smiles That was a special day he’s always been there for me it’s one of the many reasons I fell for him he’s been my protector

MC stood in front of her locker getting her books. She felt arms come around her waist

“Hey there”

She smiles and turns to Sawyer “Hi I could get used to you greeting me like that”

“Then I will do it every day” He kisses her on the forehead “Wanna go get some lunch?”

“Sure”

“Hi Sawyer”

They both roll their eyes and see Lana and her minions stand behind them

“What’s is it Lana?”

She gives him a flirtatious smile “I’m having a party this weekend and I want you to be there”

“Can’t I’m busy”

“With what? Hanging out with your loser friend over there? Oh I’m much better than her”

“On second thought I don’t want to go to any party you’re having I don’t wanna hang around disgusting people”

He takes MC’s hand and walks away

“Thanks for that Sawyer”

“No need to thank me I will always protect you” He kisses her on the forehead

****

MC smiles as she stops walking then she takes a deep breath I know what I must do She quickly heads inside and pulls out her laptop. After a while she smiles then pulls out her phone and makes a phone call.

****

Sawyer walked inside after a long day on the ranch. He sighed I wonder what she decided we haven’t talked all day. He heads to the shower and let’s cool water flow on his sore muscles. He frowns What if she decides to go I can’t handle her not being with me His heart broke at the thought of her leaving and never coming back. He loved MC so much he could contain it. She was everything to him his past present and future. He steps out the shower and dries himself off then gets dressed. I need to talk to her He heads to her room and knocks on the door “MC? Can we talk?” He hears no answer then opens the door and finds it empty. His eyes go wide No…she couldn’t have

He takes off down the steps and runs to the driveway and sees no sign of her car No… He drops to his knees and sobs No she can’t be gone.

He walks back inside and heads to his room. He opens the drawer and pulls out the box clutches it to his chest Should have given this to her earlier. He lays on his bed and sobs I don’t know what I’m going do without her she’s my life.

****

A while later Duke steps into the room “Hey Sawyer dinner’s ready”

Sawyer doesn’t look at him “I’m not hungry”

“Hey what’s wrong?”

“Nothing forget about it”

“Talk to me brother”

Sawyer sighs “MC…”

“Did ya’ll get into a fight?”

“No man she…” He trails off

“Oh there was something she wanted me to tell you now” Duke scratches his chin “What was it again?”

“Sawyer?”

His eyes shoot open and he turns and sees MC in the doorway “MC…”

“What are you doing?”

“I thought you left”

“What?” MC smacks Duke’s arm “You didn’t tell him?!”

“Tell me what?”

“Sorry I was so busy I forgot”

MC rolls her eyes “Never mind I’ll tell him”

Duke nods and heads out. MC takes a seat next to Sawyer as he sits up

“What did want to tell me?”

“That I didn’t leave I went to Billings”

“Billings? Why?”

“There is a magazine there that had an opening and it’s the same position that I was offered back in Boston”

“What did they say?”

MC smiles “I got the job” Sawyer grins then stands and spins her around as she laughs “Put me down!”

He sets her down and kisses her everywhere “I’m glad you scared me I thought you left”

“Blame Duke for that cause when I could find you I told him where I was going”

Sawyer chuckles then smiles “I’m so happy for you and now seems like the perfect time to do this”

“Do what?”

Sawyer gets down one knee “MC will you marry me?” He opens it as she gasps

Tears flow down her face as she nods “Yes”

Sawyer slips the ring on her finger and kisses her deeply “I love you so much”

“I love you too Sawyer and also…” She playfully smacks his chest “You need to stop jumping to conclusions”

He chuckles “Yeah I do” He kisses her again

Tags: @annekebbphotography​ @indiacater​ @mfackenthal​ @hopefulmoonobject​ @the-soot-sprite​ @liam-rhys​ @symonde​ @nighthunternik​ @powdesiree0816​

[incorrect-myinnerdemon-quotes]

If the boys had Accents

Kinda like how in the newest episode Leif had an accent that surprised and scared me. Except for this time they choose to have that accent or gain it over time, or I headcanon it. Because I can, and they cannot all have the same accent.

They all discover that accents are a thing, and guess what happens.

Leif makes a challenge to see who can last the long with an accent, you cannot break the accent, you CANNOT change your accent, and/or not use said accent when talking.

They all choose and accent and Ava searches it up to make sure it’s real. Ava finds it comical it best and humors them. 

Leif would TOTALLY have Brooklyn Accent, you can’t change my mind. I can imagine him saying “Ya” or “Ain’t” or shortening his words. Besides the accent, he had in the episode was a big no no.

For Asch, I’m not actually sure for him. He didn’t really find an accent that suited him and was left out. Though if he did, I’m gonna assume he got an Australian one- NO- SCOTTISH.

ASCH WITH A SCOTTISH ACCENT WOULD KILL ME-

Noi has a Canadian accent or a cowboy one, he’d greet everyone with a “Howdy!” if he had a cowboy one.

Noi, walking in the room: Howdy! P A R T N E R -

Rhys has a British accent, he likes tea, that’s the only reason why.

Pierce has a Latino accent, but here’s the twist, he has it because he is a Latino and yOU CAN’T TELL ME OTHERWISE! 

Pierce is the most Latino Daemos there is and that is a pure F A C T. 

The reason why he doesn’t have it now is because 1, he barely talks, 2, he had to get rid of it because when your the Prince’s Knight no one takes you seriously if you have an accent. He learned that the hard way.

Ava learns Daemos can have accents, she shrugs it off, “Good for them” she says.

And so when the competition begins and as Ironic as it is, Leif loses first, he gets mad and loses the accent immediately.

Leif is Smad™️.

The next one is Noi, he forgot about the challenge and ended up getting invested in something else completely forgetting the challenge at hand and realizing it after he spoke without it. He’s a little upset but doesn’t really mind in the end. 

Then you have Rhys who plain out knew he wasn’t going to win this, he’s up against Asch who will not give up and Pierce who actually has a fucking accent. 

And so it’s left between The Prince and his Knight, who will win? 

Pierce wins.

Asch loses because anger, he started screaming at someone in Scottish and then it developed into his normal voice on accident. Asch is mad and say’s it doesn’t count.

Asch is a sore loser.

Asch claims Pierce cheated because he had that accent way before he met any of them so it’d be easy to speak in that accent.

Pierce, in a Latino accent: You’re just mad because you lost.

And so for the rest of that day, Pierce talks in a Latino accent.

Not out of spite or to be smug, because he’s already talked half of the day with said accent so why not just go all the way?

For some of the accents and other stuff, I was given help from a friend of mine, so, thank you. 

And feel free to add anything if you want!

[stars-falling]

Joggers (Elriel & Feysand)

Summary: “Okay, enough small talk. Let’s go.”

They both launched into a jog, steering away from the main paths in the park and towards the less populated routes. It had become a tradition, a part of a routine they had developed over the year they had been friends. On Saturday, they attended an art class at the Velaris community centre. It was the place that they had met. Azriel, an aspiring tattoo artist, went to improve his art skills and left with a new friend. On Sunday mornings, they went jogging through the local park, catching up on each other’s lives as the art class required focus and not gossip.

“How’s life? I heard you mention to Ressina that you’re dating someone.”

Azriel blushed slightly. She couldn’t tell if it was from the cold, the exercise or the mention of the mysterious girl that he had been smitten with for the past few weeks.

Or

Feyre and Azriel go jogging. Feyre is introduced to her boyfriend's family and Azriel can't believe that Elain knows Feyre.

Pairings: Elain/Azriel, Feyre/Rhysand

Notes: Enjoy this fic I wrote when I was meant to be tidying my room. Apologies for any SPaG errors! Also, thank you @amusedowl for reading this through💖

To the anon who requested the mafia! au, I am nearly finished outlining it and will begin writing it soon!

Word Count: 1,498

Read here on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Azriel!”

Feyre waved her hand in the air, trying to get her friend's attention. He looked up from where he was leaning against a tree and pulled out his headphones.

“Hey Feyre,” he replied, pulling her into a hug. “It’s good to see you.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “You’re so polite all the time, I literally saw you yesterday.”

“Well, someone needs to be polite in my family. Nobody else has any manners.”

Feyre laughed. She had never met Azriel’s family, a family that he spoke so highly of most of the time, but they amazing. 

“Okay, enough small talk. Let’s go.”

They both launched into a jog, steering away from the main paths in the park and towards the less populated routes. It had become a tradition, a part of a routine they had developed over the year they had been friends. On Saturday, they attended an art class at the Velaris community centre. It was the place that they had met. Azriel, an aspiring tattoo artist, went to improve his art skills and left with a new friend. On Sunday mornings, they went jogging through the local park, catching up on each other’s lives as the art class required focus and not gossip.

“How’s life? I heard you mention to Ressina that you’re dating someone.”

Azriel blushed slightly. She couldn’t tell if it was from the cold, the exercise or the mention of the mysterious girl that he had been smitten with for the past few weeks.

“Yeah, I met her at your art show actually. We’ve been on a couple of dates, and I really like her. What about you? Your phone didn’t stop buzzing the entire class yesterday.”

Feyre also blushed and refused to look at Azriel as he sent her a teasing look.

“I may have met someone, not that it’s any of your business.”

Azriel spluttered, “that is so rude. I told you about who I’m seeing. You should do the same.”

Feyre just stuck her tongue out at him and sprinted ahead yelling, “race you to the pond.”

Azriel just shook his head and ran to catch her up, until they were neck and neck sprinting down the path and towards the finish.

o.O.o

“I can’t believe you beat me. I had a head start.” Feyre sat down on the floor and gratefully took the water bottle that Azriel passed to her.

Azriel just crossed his arms. “It serves you right for cheating. You know what they say, karma's a bitch.”

Feyre had a good lead on Azriel on the beginning but he had quickly caught up and surpassed her. Being a slightly sore loser (read: a very sore loser), Feyre had cut across the main path, resulting in her being blocked by a chattering mass of children and their carers.

Feyre’s phone buzzed for the second time in the span of five minutes.

Azriel smirked, “is that the mystery suitor?”

“Shut up,” Feyre grumbled as she looked at the text she received.

Rhys❤️

Are you still up for meeting my family tonight?

She smiled as she saw who it was from. She typed her reply.

As long as you’re ready to meet mine x 

Rhys just sent a heart in reply. Feyre put her phone away and looked up to find Azriel staring at her.

“What?”

He shrugged, “Nothing. I’m just wondering who that guy is.”

“You probably don’t know him.”

Azriel didn’t reply. He just offered a hand to her and pulled her up when she accepted. They launched back into a jog.

“So,” Feyre began, “are you doing anything tonight?”

Az shook his head, “nothing exciting. I’m going to dinner with my family. I love them but sometimes they can be a pain.”

Feyre nodded in agreement. 

“Definitely. I’m taking my sisters to meet my boyfriend's family tonight. I’m slightly scared of Nesta’s reaction.”

Azriel chuckled before a moment of realisation crossed his face.

“So the guy you’ve been texting is your boyfriend.”

Feyre scowled at the statement.

“Okay, he’s my boyfriend.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Feyre smiled at Azriel.

“You’re my best friend, so I know that you’d demand to meet him and you’d scare him off.”

Az pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m both offended and delighted that you think I’m scary.”

Feyre waved him off and picked up her speed.

o.O.o

Azriel watched as Rhysand took another sip of wine. He had almost finished two entire glasses in the half an hour that they had been waiting for their table to become available. He drained his glass before signalling the bartender for a refill.

“What is up with you?” Cassian took the full glass of wine that had been handed to Rhys. “You’re going to be drunk before we’ve even been seated.”

Rhys just made to grab the glass back. “I resent the fact that you think I can’t handle my alcohol.”

Azriel laid a hand on his shoulder. “Cassian’s right. You seem nervous. What’s up?”

Rhys just laughed. “What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? I barely ever hear you say that Cassian’s right.”

“Cassian’s right, Az agreed. We don’t care, just tell us what’s wrong.” Mor sat in between Rhys and Amren, looking concerned. “You haven’t acted like this since you introduced Amarantha to us.”

They all shuddered. Rhys’ ex-girlfriend was a complete nightmare.

“I know, I’m-“

Rhys was interrupted by someone barrelling through the door.

“I’m so sorry I’m late.”

Rhys lit up and he stood to embrace the woman.

“It’s okay, darling. We haven’t been seated yet.”

Rhys pressed a kiss to the mystery woman’s lips. She turned around.

“Feyre?”

Feyre’s eyes widened as she took in Azriel’s presence.

“Az, what are you doing here?”

Rhys looked between them, confused.

“Do you two know each other?”

Feyre stopped staring at Azriel and turned to Rhys.

“Yes. He’s my best friend. The one I was telling you about.”

Rhys let out a startled laugh. “He’s the best friend? I thought you said he was cool. I know for a fact that Azriel is the opposite of cool.”

Azriel smiled and slung an arm around Feyre’s shoulders. “You think I’m cool? I’m flattered.”

Feyre pushes his arm off. “Yeah, whatever.”

The hostess interrupted the conversation.

“The table is ready.”

They followed the hostess to a large, elegant table. Rhys sat and Feyre took a seat by his side.

“Are you going to introduce us?” Cassian asked.

“Oh, yes,” Rhys pointed at his family. “This is Cassian, Morrigan and Amren. You already know Azriel.”

Mor smiled and waved at Feyre. “You can call me Mor. So how do you know our dearest Azriel and Rhys.”

“Well, Azriel is my best friend. We met at the art class in the Velaris community centre.” She turned to Rhys. “Rhys is my boyfriend.”

Rhys pulled Feyre into a kiss. “This is why I was nervous. I was going to introduce you to Feyre tonight.”

“He’s the mysterious suitor?” 

Feyre nodded and smiled softly at Rhys. 

“Yeah, he is.”

Mor leaned forward. “You guys are so cute.”

Azriel paused. “Didn’t you say you were going out with you sisters tonight?”

Before Feyre could reply, several footsteps interrupted her. Feyre turned before rising to her feet and wrapping her arms around the taller woman.

“Guys, these are my sisters, Nesta and Elain.”

Nesta inclined her head towards the group before taking the open seat next to Cassian, much to his delight. The other sister remained standing.

“Elain,” Feyre prompted, “aren’t you going to take a seat?”

But Elain just stared at Azriel, who stared back. She broke eye contact and slowly took a seat next to Azriel. He leaned towards her.

“You’re Feyre’s sister?”

“You know Feyre?”

They stared at each other, taking no notice of everyone else observing them.

A smile broke across Elain’s face.

“Hi.” She breathed before pressing her lips against Azriel’s. They broke apart several seconds later. 

“I can’t believe you’re here.”

“I know, I-“

“WHAT?”

Feyre was watching them with wide eyes and an open mouth. 

“WHAT?” She repeated.

Rhys looked uncertainty at Azriel. “Um Az, care to explain.”

“This is Elain, my girlfriend and apparently Feyre’s sister.”

Feyre continued to look between them.

Cassian began humming ‘it’s a small world’ but Amren leaned across Mor to hit him.

“Don’t.” She hissed.

Cassian shut up.

Elain piped up, “How do you know each other?”

Feyre wiped her hand across her brow. She let up a delirious laugh.

“You’re the mystery girl. You’re the girl he’s smitten with. Oh my god, he’s dating my sister.”

Elain leaned towards Azriel.

“What’s she talking about?”

Azriel sighed.

“We went jogging together this morning and she was interrogating me about you.”

Understanding descended upon Elain.

“Feyre is the best friend.”

Azriel nodded in confirmation.

She leaned her head on his shoulder. 

“It’s a small world.”

Cassian started singing again and Mor joined in. This time, Amren did not interrupt them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging: @amusedowl

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