#someone else read all of acotar

[bereft-of-frogs]

I love in half-baked fantasy when you have to be like…so did you just not google this or should I expect Henri de Navarre to come riding in on a dragon???

[prythianpages]

The Family Reunion | Azriel

Azriel x Green Witch Reader | summary: Azriel accidentally welcomes your dysfunctional family into your home.

warning: I can't really think of any at the moment besides violence from a witch fight, basically you being protective over Az

a/n: There's not very much known about the witches in the ACOTAR universe so I'm just taking creative control here (: This can be read as a stand alone fic.

As Azriel sits in your living room, the familiar weight of concern settles in his chest. The past few days have felt like a quiet storm and the bond between you, has fallen eerily silent far too many times to go unnoticed. 

Of course, he’s already asked if you were alright but he sensed the lie as it brewed in your eyes before it slipped out of your lips. The shadows that remain at your side keep him updated on your whereabouts but besides a crow following you one day, there’s nothing else to report. He wonders if you’re upset with him.

Azriel tries to engross himself into the book–as it’s one you recommended to him– in his hand but his eyes keep drifting from the pages. He steals glances toward the closed door of your study. A vibrant green glow, your magic, spills from the edges of the door. He tries to pull on the bond but cannot find you on the other end. You shut him out. Again. 

Three knocks pull him out of his thoughts. Ignoring the skittering dance of his shadows and the way Pearl–your pet spider–retreats back to her corner, he opens the door. There’s no one on the other side. A perplexed furrow forms on his brow as he peeks into the hallway, dispatching his shadows to investigate further. They return with no insights, leaving an unsettling silence in their wake. 

“Hey Az?”

Azriel closes the door and locks it. He turns to see you stepping out from your study. You smile at him sheepishly, toying with your glowing hands. “Can I have some of your blood?” Your voice is surprisingly calm, despite the look in your eyes, and you must mistake his silence as apprehension because you’re adding: “Just a drop!”

He would’ve gladly granted your request but before he can even utter a word, a sudden shift in the air catches your attention. Your eyes widen, a touch of panic flickering within them. It’s a fleeting moment where control slips from your grasp, and in that heartbeat, your side of the bond bursts open.

His wings quiver as if struck by an invisible force. A torrent of emotions crashes over him like unrelenting waves on a storm sea, flooding and overwhelming his senses. Worry etches lines on his face at the raw intensity of your feelings. 

“Toad’s blood!��

In the blink of an eye, he’s standing in front of you, his hands cradling your face. The hazel depths of his eyes burn with concern but you avoid his gaze, your frantic eyes darting around the room as if looking for something–someone.

“y/n, my love,” Azriel implores softly, his heart pounding in his chest as he desperately tries to navigate through the sea of your emotions. “What’s wrong?”

Your eyes land on the door and a palpable tension fills the air. “You opened the door.”

Azriel’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Someone knocked.”

You swallow thickly. “How many?”

“What?”

Your voice is firmer this time. “How many knocks?”

“Three.”

You’re pulling out of his grasp abruptly. You run back to your study and a trail of perplexed worry etches further across Azriel’s face as he follows after you. With a furrowed brow, he observes your hurried actions. Windows are slammed and shut and locked in quick succession. He blinks and you’re running to your room next. “y/n, please talk to me! Tell me what’s wrong!”

You pause, if only for a brief moment, your eyes finally meeting his. “You just opened the door to a gateway of evil.”

“Evil??” Azriel’s wings flinch, the word carrying an unexpected weight. “What evil?”

“My mother.”

A sense of impending danger guides your every move and you’re sprinting past him. Over your shoulder, you urgently command, “Quick! Lock all the windows!”

Azriel responds without hesitation. He races back to your living room, determined to secure the window he opened earlier. As he does so, he sees a crow flying toward him. It’s familiar to both him and his shadows. The dark tendrils hasten to close the window beside him and the crow, unable to halt its trajectory, collides with the glass.

“I think that's all of it,” you say with a sigh of relief. However, it’s short lived as an overlooked detail dawns on you. The window in your kitchen.

Azriel, his shadows and you are already racing toward the kitchen but despite your efforts, you’re too slow to close it. Your sock clad feet glide across the floor and Azriel wraps an arm around your waist from behind, preventing you from falling. It tightens around you, drawing you snugly against him in a protective embrace, just as the crow flutters its wings menacingly and tauntingly above you. His eyes narrow at the bird and his shadows poise like a snake ready to strike. 

Shrouded in a swirling cloud of purple smoke, the crow undergoes a mystical transformation. Its plumage shifts and twists, feathers unraveling and converging as if guided by an unseen hand. A silhouette begins to take form amid the enchanting mist and as the last tendrils of purple dissipate, a beautiful older female stands before you.

“That is not the way to welcome your mother, Dearest.”

**

The last time you saw your mother was when Hybern became allies with Spring. She had asked you to join her coven, out of worry for you if you stayed in the court that was crumbling apart, but Feyre had already secured plans to bring you to Velaris. The City of Starlight was a safe haven for you…until the Hybern attack unveiled its secret. She’s been reaching out ever since–sending countless letters and when those did not work, she started sending ravens.

Though she delves in dark magic, you know your mother means well. She loves you and has been protective of you. Overly protective. Perhaps, you were being dramatic about it all but you weren’t ready for her to meet Azriel yet. You didn’t even get to finish the protective spell you were planning on casting upon him. All you needed was a drop of his blood to complete it…

“Mother,” you reluctantly greet.

She smirks at you. Every muscle of your body tenses and you place your hand over Azriel’s to let him know it's okay. Ever the perceptive one, your mother catches the subtle gesture. Her gaze falls upon the protective presence behind you. She narrows her eyes and points a perfectly manicured finger at him as if to say “I’ll deal with you later.”

With a wave of her other hand, a cage materializes out of thin air. You can barely make out the tiny green creature in it before your mother is thrusting it into your hands.

“Hold your father, will you? I need to go fetch your sisters.”

She says it so casually, it’s comical almost. You grimace as your gaze flickers to the small lizard. It nervously scurries within the small cage it is confined in and you’re tempted to drop it. 

Your father, a former high noble fae from Spring, had been cursed into a feeble gecko at the powerful hands of your mother. She did it shortly after she caught him trying to take your life at the mere age of two. He had plans to kill your mother next and take her heart for his own so now your mother loves to torment him by carrying him with her so that each remaining day of his life is as miserable as can be.

Verena, your mother, walks over to your door as if she owns the place. With an air of confident authority, she swings it open, revealing two females on the other side—your sisters, each birthed from a different father. One, with dark, flowing hair and sinister eyes, wears a smirk that mirrors Verena’s. Maeve. The other, with lighter hair, possesses kinder eyes, and delicate white feathery wings. Thea. She looks at you apologetically. 

You’re slipping out of Azriel’s grasps and joining your family in your living room. The cage falls from your grasp, rolling onto the ground. Binx dives out from the shadows, eyes alight as the cat spots the green creature within. A curious paw swats at it, its claws peeking through the thin gaps at the top of the cage but no one bats an eyelash at the terrified squeak.

A scowl settles onto your face. “Mother, Maeve, Thea. As quickly as you arrived, I want you all to leave,” you say, clapping your hands at them for emphasis. “I did not invite you here.”

“No,” your mother agrees with a nod but her eyes are fixed on something–rather someone behind you. “He did.”

**

Four pairs of eyes are on him and Azriel only cares about one. Yours. His knowledge over your family is limited. He knew your father was a piece of scum but he did not know he still lived. There’s a tightening in his chest and he knows it's coming from your side of the bond. He sends a wave of reassurance through it because if you’re okay, he’s okay. Even if your family is a little overwhelming.

Verena circles around him, her gaze sharp as the crow she morphs into. Azriel stands still, his shadows swirling defensively. When Verena extends toward the talon of his wings, the shadows snap at her, causing her to withdraw. A wicked grin appears on her face.  “A Shadowsinger,” she observes. “What is your name?”

“Azriel.”

Verena hums, stepping back, her eyes scanning every inch of him. There’s a devilish gleam in them when they settle upon his large, membranous wings. He instinctively tucks them back.

“By The Mother, you look absolutely ravishing,” purrs your dark-haired sister.

The lighter haired sister beside her smiles. “He is quite beautiful.”

“Maeve,” the darker haired sister introduces herself. Her dark brown eyes sparkle in amusement. She holds her hand out to him. “We haven’t yet had the pleasure. y/n has been hiding you for far too long.”

Azriel does not take her hand. Instead, he watches her with wary eyes and she laughs. As her eyes deepen in hue, mirroring the unsettling darkness akin to yours, an ominous glow envelops her hands. It resembles a delicate yet foreboding cloud of gray smoke that dances around her fingers. 

**

“Don’t touch him,” you growl, raising your own hand. A raging green fire roars from your fingertips as the darkness takes your eyes.

Maeve turns to hiss at you. Her cloud of smoke is steadfast as it continues its path to Azriel. Your mate. You hiss back but your mother rests a hand on your shoulders and out of the corner of your eye, you swear Thea sends a reassuring gesture your way.

“Oh, come on.” Maeve persists, her voice, both enchanting and seductive, beckons like a magnetic force. She steps closer to him, ignoring the heated glare you send her way.  She places a hand on his arm and you're shaking with rage as you recognize the haze that clouds Azriel's eyes. 

“You look hungry. Would you like a taste? What do you think, Shadowsinger?”

Smoke wraps around him, infiltrating his senses and charging the air around him with an alluring energy.  It smells like chamomile and lavender–a scent intricately tied to you, the enchanting witch he calls his own. You’re shoving away from your mother and prancing on your sister, the two of you tumbling to the ground. “Let him go!”

The room becomes a radiant spectacle, bathed in the ethereal clash of gray and green magic. The air is charged with the tension of their coexistence and you’re pinning your sister to the floor beneath you. “Why do you always have the thirst to take everything I have?”

“Because it’s fun,” Maeve hisses at you, her dark eyes a reflection of yours. “Besides, our family is in need of a new pet, don’t you think?”

“Girls, stop it this instant!”

“Can it be something cute this time? Like a puppy!”

“Thea, shut up!” You say brusquely as you look up.

Thea winces at your tone. Maeve takes the sliver of your distraction to push you off of her. The two of you hastily get to your feet and you hold your hands out ready to unleash the vibrant, verdant rage coursing through your veins at her. 

“I think y/n is ravishing this evening. Don’t you?”

Azriel’s voice is light, dreamy almost as he’s in a trance. He blinks and the tendrils of magic briefly cloud his vision before it clears. He steps away from Maeve’s cloud of smoke, repulsed by her magic and his eyes are searching for you.

His gaze, steady and filled with a profound warmth, captures yours and it feels like a gentle cascade of water extinguishing a flame. The vibrant green fire in your hands gracefully fades away, mirroring the softening of your eyes in the tender exchange. 

“And he’s not even lying,” Maeve frowns with a huff, her voice and eyes returning to normal. Disappointment is written all over her face. No one has been able to escape from her power of seduction before. “How dull.”

Your hand finds solace in Azriel’s and he locks his fingers with yours. You smile at him and he smiles back. You are the only enchantment he desires and your heart swells. You're so happy you could kiss him--

Thea, always one step ahead of everyone, gasps. “He’s your mate.”

Your mother’s eyes undergo a shadowed transformation of her own, reminiscent of a crow’s ominous gaze. Azriel feels a subtle unease but you remain composed. Gracefully, she approaches, her movements mirroring the fluid elegance of a bird. With a discerning sniff, she assesses the air around you both. Her keen eyes flicker to Azriel’s chest–where the emerald, the greatest token of your affection, securely rests beneath his leathers. His siphons awaken in response, pulsing with a powerful and protective luminescence.

“Your heart. Your precious, precious heart,” she whispers, her voice on the brink of tears.

There’s a drastic shift in her voice when she speaks again. It darkens with a mother’s fierce intensity and echoes through the room like a hissing serpent. “You’ve given it to him.”

Your mother outstretches her hand, toward Azriel, her gesture laden with an unmistakable agony. With a resolute urgency, you press your hand against Azriel’s chest, your other hand still wrapped around his. You can feel the pulse of his heart beneath the gem. It’s fast and erratic but gradually soothes under your touch. 

Given your family's history, you can't blame your mother for reacting this way. Maeve's father was a charming merchant, who enjoyed traveling through the sea, and was very aware of his heartthrob status. Your mother was not immune to his allure and though she did not love him, she was possessive over him. So when she caught him touching another female, she cut his hand off, forcing him to always think of her for the rest of his life. She keeps the hand she severed preserved in a jar at her house. 

On the other hand, Thea's father was a peregryn warrior who loved studying the stars in his free time. He was probably the best male out of all three...if he hadn't picked his loyalty for his court over your mother. Surprisingly, your mother left him alone and unharmed but she made a good example of him to you all because even the kindest of men were not to be trusted.

But Azriel is different. 

His sweetness, care and love create a warmth that gently embraces your heart. You’ve spent a lifetime shielding your heart as your mother taught you but with Azriel, it feels different. He is your mate. Your other half, crafted by The Mother and Cauldron itself. In his presence, you find a haven where vulnerability is not a weakness but a welcomed connection. 

“I love him.”

Wheeling with a snarl, she fixes her sharp gaze back onto you. Her hand tenses midair and her talons peak out before dropping it back to her side. She leans so close you can feel her breath tickle yours.  Her gaze travels down to the obsidian necklace you keep on at all times for protection and she feels her throat tighten when she sees the new charm attached to it. It’s an initial. A for Azriel.

“You stupid, foolish girl. What have you done? Have I taught you nothing?”

Azriel growls and his shadows tense as they await their master’s next order. Your hand tightens against him and you send a wave of reassurance through the bond. This was exactly what you had been hoping to avoid. The last male you introduced to your mother was turned into a frog and you hadn’t put up a fight as the male had fallen under Maeve’s spell. But this time, you were willing to fight and defend what was yours. 

“I think it's quite brave,” a dreamy voice cuts in through the tension. “A true testament to love.”

“Shut up, Thea.” Maeve snaps. “No one asked for your opinion.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time you ask for a reading!”

“Azriel.” Your mother’s voice is sharp, demanding attention. “You hold something extremely dear to me now. If I find you to be careless with it–if you so much as hurt y/n in any shape or form…I will hunt you down, rip your heart out and eat it for breakfast.”

“She’s not joking,” Maeve decides to chime in. “She ate Thea’s lover for dinner once.”

“Must you always jump at the opportunity to remind me?” Thea retorts with a look of pained disgust on her face and you almost feel bad for her. She did love that male terribly, as undeserving as he was.

“I don’t know why it’s such a big deal, my dearest,” your mother says in a perplexed tone. She rolls her eyes at the scoff she received in response. “He was a human.”

“He was the love of my life!”

“And others too.” Maeve cuts in, lips curled into a lopsided smirk as she gazes at her nails. “Mother did you a favor there.”

“This,” you say to Azriel, lifting your chin toward your family. Your mother and sisters continue to bicker back and forth while Binx zooms after the rolling cage imprisoning your father. You sigh deeply and Azriel now understands why you were on edge all week, why you had shut him out.

 “This is my family.”

As if on cue, your family turns to him. Binx rests a paw on the rolling cage, halting its movement. Even the green gecko inside seems to peer curiously at the Shadowsinger, its tiny eyes glinting in the dim light.

 Your mother, a formidable figure with an air of ancient wisdom, focuses her attention to Azriel. The expression on her face is a complex blend of skepticism and concern. Her dark eyes narrow as if probing his very soul–a look that has sent many to mad chaos and the room seems to hold its breath as Azriel meets her gaze. 

You step in between them both. “Mother, must you always do this?”

“It’s okay. I have nothing to hide,” Azriel reassures you as he holds your mother’s gaze, unwavering and resolute. “I would never dream of hurting y/n. I love her.”

“He speaks the truth, mother. He’d kill for her, I’ve seen–ow!”

Your mother’s keen eyes linger on him. Despite Thea’s words, she wants to see for herself. The room feels suspended in time as she carries on with probing into his very soul. She’s peering into the depths of his heart, seeping into its cracks and searching for any hint of insincerity. The tension in the room starts to dissipate as she must sense something she agrees with. Slowly, her lips gradually curve in a smile–a genuine one. 

“I like this one,” your mother says as she turns to you. “I shall spare you the part of my visit where I ask you to come back home with me as I now know it will be pointless. So let’s have dinner, hmm? All this excitement has me famished.”

Your mother clasps her hands together, springing the room into action. Binx resumes messing around with your father and Maeve makes her way to your kitchen, your mother following after her.

“I did not agree to you staying for dinner!” You call after them, shooting Azriel an apologetic look.

“She was going to agree anyway.” 

Azriel turns to your sister–the closest to a normal relative you seem to have. Her blue eyes, flecked with silver hold a spark of otherworldly wisdom as she regards him. 

“You can see the future?”

She tilts her head, a cascade of blonde curls falling over her shoulder. Her lips curl into a knowing smile and her peregryn wings flutter. “Only what the stars tell me,” she replies cryptically. “Would you like me to read your cards?”

Azriel contemplates for a moment. He turns toward the kitchen and his eyes find you. You’re engaged in a lively debate about the perfect amount of herbs, claiming that only a pinch of thyme is needed while Maeve stubbornly shakes her head.

“Out of my kitchen! Go seduce a pig for all I care before I hex you with an angry nest of bees!” 

His love for you deepens with every passing second and he nearly startles when he feels a flutter in his chest. It’s you. You echo the sentiment very loud and clear through your end of the bond.

“No.”

“Why not?” She teases, though she already knows the answer.

“Because right now, I have everything I could ever want.”

**

Once your family departs, relief washes over you, and you finally feel able to breathe freely. Leaning against the door, you release a sigh, allowing your eyes to flutter shut momentarily. When you reopen them, your gaze lands on Azriel in the living room. He's seated, head tilted back, eyes closed, weariness evident. Moving towards him, you saunter over, and without a word, he instinctively pulls you onto his lap, his eyes still shut in a shared moment of exhaustion and solace.

Your hands tenderly cradle his face, bathed in the soft glow of your green magic. You massage his temples, your fingertips tracing away the remnants of the headache your mother’s earlier probing had left behind. A contented sigh escapes him at your soothing touch. 

“Thank you,” he breathes and his hands find their place at your hips.

You press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I should be the one thanking you.”

He opens his eyes and there’s a subtle perplexity among them. “How come?”

“Because they’re chaotic,” you answer and tipping your chin down sheepishly, you continue, “I’m sorry for shutting you out. I was doing my best to keep them from coming but I should’ve just told you instead. I was trying to protect you from all of this–”

A scarred finger props your chin up, urging you to look back up at him. The hand that remains at your hip tightens with a comforting reassurance. You find yourself lost in the depths of his beautiful hazel eyes and like always, they anchor you like a tranquil forest bathed in sunlight.

“You don’t have to protect me from this. I accept it–all of you. I love you,” he murmurs. The corner of his lips tug up into a small smile. “Though I do find you unbearingly adorable when you’re protective.”

“Adorable?” You can’t help but laugh. Others would beg to differ. You're sure your eyes have given Cassian nightmares.

“Especially when it’s all for me,” he nearly purrs, pressing kisses to the corner of your eyes. The very eyes he adores, even when they transform into inky pools of black.

He kisses the nape of your neck and your breath hitches. “Did you mean it?”

Azriel hums against your neck. “Mean what?”

“What you said to Thea earlier,” you say, mindlessly confessing that you had been listening to his short conversation with your sister. 

You feel him smile against you. “Of course I did. Whatever the future may bring, as long as I have you, that's enough for me. You’re my everything.”

When he pulls away to look at you, you’re beaming at him. His nose brushes against yours and your hands cup his face again, eyes flickering to his lips before you guide them to yours in a slow yet passionate kiss. You slide your tongue along the softness of his bottom lip, reveling in his honeyed taste and he parts his mouth for you, a small sound of pleasure slipping between your lips.

You kiss him and kiss him until the future seems like a distant thought, overshadowed by the perfection of the present.

a/n: I was driving to an appointment when I randomly thought of how chaotic reader's family is and wanted to introduce them formally in case I want to incorporate them in future imagines. This takes place shortly before the one where you get kidnapped.

Also, I'm currently watching the Witcher and I couldn't help myself and use this scene to help me write the part where Maeve tries to seduce Az.

tagging: @fxckmiup

[series masterlist]

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + three

authors note: wow! omg, thank you all so much for the kind words of support for this story! it really does mean a lot to me, cause i know the content is pretty heavy.

also, if anyone has read the acotar series, i imagine the dynamic between roman and the twins to be a bit similar to the bat boys. and yes, we'll def see more of the twins moving forward.

in addition, if you want to be tagged, you have to explicitly ask as such. the last thing i want to do is tag someone i thought wanted to be tagged and didn't, and they end up triggered. :(

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: language, violence against women, trauma responses (nightmares/night terrors), hints at suicidal thoughts, references to traumatic past

song inspo: 'looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

words: 9k

Roman doesn’t come back until the wee hours of the morning, and he’s out the house again before the sun is even up.

Solana knows all of this because she doesn’t sleep that night.

It’s not for lack of trying. She spends nearly two hours twisting and turning before finally accepting that sleep isn’t in the cards for her. She instead finds herself sitting on the floor of her bathroom, door locked, writing away in her journal. No letter to mom this time, just pure word vomit, all of her thoughts and feelings about everything that’s transpired. 

There’s as many tears as there are words, and like always post–writing, she feels a tad bit better. The best and only release she ever has is in her written word, all of the things she could never say aloud, melted from her head and sealed into paper.

When she’s done writing, Solana opts to read a book in her Kindle Library. Doing so makes her realize that she still doesn’t have her stuff from back home. It’s not that she has a lot, but the items she was told to pack just for the first few nights will only last just that—for a few days.

But, Solana doesn’t think it’s a good idea to ask Roman about that. She doesn’t think it’s a good idea to ask him for anything, not after she’s clearly and understandably upset him. She’ll just….she’ll just have to make do until it's noticed she's essentially living out of a suitcase. 

And Solana has a thought, an idea, that getting up early to fix him breakfast could be a good thing, something to tame his anger toward her. It’s the least that she can do.

But one look around Roman’s massive kitchen indicates he’s every bit the stereotypical bachelor. There’s only a couple of ingredients, not enough of anything to make an actual meal. There’s also a lot of “meal prep” meals, which makes sense. She can imagine he’s insanely strict with his diet and fitness. One can’t look like Roman Reigns without an intense amount of focus and dedication.

It makes her wonder just what kind of dietary restrictions and preferences she’ll have to learn about him to make meals that he can actually consume. Another question she needs to ask but doesn’t know how or when considering he already has very little to no interest in having anything to do with her.

It’s another thing she knows she’ll have to figure out but tries her best to focus on anything else besides the fact that she’s now married to a man who can’t stand her, the same man her family wants her to somehow assassinate.

Yes…..other things is a much better seat filler.

Solana briefly wonders how she’s going to get to work considering her car is still back at her dad’s house, but just when she’s considering calling an Uber, she’s met in the living room of Roman’s massive estate by none other than his right hand man and cousin.

Solo Sikoa 

All he says is, “ready?” And she realizes that this is how she’s to get to work, that he is to escort her. Him and another set of large men, guards as she realizes. A separate set of guards, not the ones who roam and patrol Roman’s mansion. 

Being around so many men….it’s a different kind of experience. Leaning more on the side of uncomfortable than anything. 

But, she’s at least a bit more at ease when Solo only opens the door to the back of the SUV and doesn’t join in, instead sitting in the passenger seat.

She's grateful for that.

Solo is almost the same exact person as his cousin. Large, strong, stoic and scary as hell. The only difference is that she’s not sure Solo is capable of sentences that include more than 1 to 3 words.

It’s obvious he’s not thrilled about being assigned as her personal guard, and she can’t blame him. There can’t be anything exciting about watching her boring life and making sure nothing happens to her during said boring life.

But Solana can’t deny there’s a small part of her that feels a small sense of comfort at having someone to look out for her. Even if she partially questions his loyalty to said job. Something happening to her wouldn’t do anything to anybody. At all. 

She’d just….cease to exist.

And lately….that hasn’t seemed like the worst thing ever. 

But, it’s when she arrives at work, goes into her office to start to prepare for the work day only to find her brother already waiting that that comfort is obliterated.

“Sis.” Wes' smile is tight and inauthentic, his eyes darting between her and Solo. “Sorry to scare you. I was just hoping we could talk.”

Talk….

Wes never wants to talk to her, not unless it’s him berating and screaming while he beats the shit out of her. 

“Alone.” He gives Solo a faux sympathetic expression. “Family things….you understand, I’m sure.”

Solana doesn’t know if Solo understands or he doesn’t, but she does know that Wes' kind and friendly tone is all smoke and mirrors. She knows he’s pissed that he didn’t catch her off-guard, didn’t catch her alone, that he couldn’t corner her like he always does.

And for a second, Solana believes she’s safe, knows that Solo won’t let Wes lay a hand on her. It’s….it’s his job to keep her safe, right?

But just as that hope is present, it’s extinguished by the reality she knows is inescapable. Solo won’t be with her 24/7. She won’t be protected forever. She’ll eventually be around both Wes and her father alone. And the price she’ll have to pay for denying him in this moment….

It’s not worth it. 

Roman’s words to her father about not touching her are nice in theory, but she knows better. Xavier Miller does what he wants, regardless of what’s said and by who.

“O–of course,” Solana mumbles, fingers dancing at the side of her pants. She turns to Solo. “Please….give us a few minutes.”

For the first time since she’s met him, Solo actually shows some type of emotion. It still stems from anger, maybe a branch of irritation, but it's still something different. “Tribal Chief said I’m supposed to watch you, so that’s what I do.”

She swallows. This is going to require a level of assertiveness that’s almost foreign if not non-existent. “I–I understand, but….Wes is my brother. He—” It’s almost impossible for her to even get the words out. “He would never hurt me.”

Solana almost immediately wants to vomit. That’s all this man has ever done. 

At least since the murder of their mother. 

Solo is struggling but wavering, she can see as much, so she continues. “It’s okay,” she assures, even mustering up a small smile. “Please….just a couple minutes. I won’t—I won’t say anything to Roman.”

Solo still looks torn but eventually agrees, leaving her alone with one of two men who hate her most on this earth. 

The door is barely closed when Wes has her pinned against the wall, hand slapped over her mouth, a knife pressed to the base of her throat.

“You stupid bitch, don’t think for one second that being married to Reigns changes shit,” he snarls. “He doesn’t give a fuck about you. He just doesn’t like people messing with his possessions.”

Solana knows all of this, knows that anything Roman may do that seems to be for her benefit is just him asserting his dominance. She doesn’t need to be reminded of this. 

“Wes, you’re hurting me.” She suddenly feels so stupid saying that, telling him what he already knows. Of course, he is. That’s the whole point. Still, she stupidly believes she can plead to whatever humanity is left in him. If any. “P–please.”

“Shut up,” he hisses, shoving her head against the wall. Solana winces quietly, mindful of Solo who stands outside the door because of her. Because she told him to, because she welcomed this violence onto herself.

“Reigns told dad you won’t be available for a couple weeks, so I suggest you start doing what you need to do to change that. We need to be able to communicate with you.”

This startles her. Why would Roman say that? Did Roman say that? Wes is a master manipulator, and she doesn’t put it past him to be playing mind games.

“I—I don’t know what you want me to do.” And it’s true. Solana has no idea what to do in any of this, how she’s supposed to kill a man who’s more or less impossible to kill, how she’s supposed to win his favor when it’s obvious she already annoys him. It’s all so confusing and overwhelming.

“Did you fuck him last night?”

It’s a question she hoped no one would ask, didn’t believe would be asked because there’s no one who would care enough except for Roman himself.

And while Solana knows being dishonest with her brother won’t turn out well, in this moment, she doesn’t know how he’ll respond if she tells the truth.

So, she lies. She lies to live to see another day, for what reason, she doesn't know. It’s not as if any other day will provide her some sense of solace or security. But, it’s just what she does. 

“Y–yes.”

Wes looks understandably pleased. “Good.” She gaps in fear when he drags his knife against her skin, gently trailing it across, just light enough to avoid drawing blood. “That’s all you’ve ever been good for us for anyway.”

A frown falls upon her face. What….what does that mean?

“Just keep contact open, you understand?” No, she doesn’t, but she has no choice but to pretend that she does. Nodding, Wes shoves her into the wall one more time at an angle that causes her shoulder to take the impact. Wincing, she holds onto it as he releases her and walks out the door. “Don’t fuck this up, Solana.”

Easier said than done. Much easier said than done. 

It’s when he leaves her alone that the tears pool in her eyes. But, it’s when Solo walks in, studying her that she sniffles and wipes at her eyes. “I–I’m fine.”

She’s not.

She’s far from fine. 

————

The day ends up slightly, maybe even moderately, improving. It’s to be slightly expected though as it’s Monday, the day that Solana runs her reading club with the younger kids. It’s always a highlight to see their bright, smiling faces, answering all of their fifty million questions.

It’s a break from a very bleak reality that is her life, immersing herself in their world of pretend and minimal worries.

Sometimes, she finds herself a bit jealous. Jealous that they still have their innocence, that their view of the world hasn’t been painted in red and blood like hers.

But, it’s when Solana is in the back taking her break, journaling, that that improvement takes a deep dive. Because a single knock on the door is followed by the large intimidating frame of her husband entering her space. 

Naturally, her stomach knots. She hasn’t seen Roman since last night, since he helped and scolded her in the same brief timespan. She understands it though and doesn't entirely disagree with what he said.

She’s far from the perfect picture of mental stability. 

Swallowing, Solana stands up and opens her mouth to address him when his eyes go from her face to her wrist. Following his line of vision, she sees why. There’s a blueish/greenish obvious bruise starting to form, beyond that initial point of formation really. It's just a straight up, fully developed bruise.

Roman slowly walks over to her and reaches for her arm. Solana naturally tenses. He hesitates for a second but still takes her wrist, lifting it so that it's at her eye level but still close enough for him to assess. 

She closes her eyes and acts quickly to think of an excuse. “I—umm—”

“Who?”

His voice is quieter than she anticipated and as much as she wishes she doesn't know what he means, Solana knows exactly what he’s asking. She just doesn’t answer. 

“I’m only going to ask you this one time and one time only.” His brown eyes are burning into her as he perfectly enunciates each word. “Who fucking touched you?”

Solana winces at his tone but eventually answers. “Wes....”

Roman drops her hand, and Solana brings her arms to her chest, head dropped. 

He’s pissed. 

That seems to be the only emotion he experiences around her, because of her.

His nostrils are flared as he demands. “Where was Solo?” 

Making him wait for a response is clearly something that sets him off even more, so Solana does her best to answer in a timely manner. “I—I asked him to leave. Wes….Wes didn’t want him in the room.”

“Of course, he fucking didn’t. Why would you—” Roman pinches his nose. A day. It’s been less than 48 hours, only a day in, and this marriage shit already has him fucking stressed out. Being married to this damn girl is like having a fucking child to look after. “From now on, I don’t give a fuck what your idiot brother and poor excuse of a father tell you, you’re not to be alone with them.” Roman’s command is a lot easier said than done. Denying her father or brother has never done her any favors. Solana isn’t sure how to verbalize this to the man in front of her who’s already six different shades of annoyed. “I thought I made that clear to them at the wedding, but obviously, they need a reminder.”

Solana feels every bit the scolded child, murmuring a quiet, “I’m sorry…”

Roman looks at her, and for a slither of a second, maybe even less than that, he feels bad for her. Feels bad because it’s clearly not her fault that she’s so fucked up. With a dad and brother like Xavier and Wes, what chance did she have?

He then briefly wonders about her mother, wonders what the dynamic was like there. But that’s a short lived trail because his mind then goes to his own mother. 

And Roman can’t have that, can’t go down that road for a variety of reasons, reasons that may not be that different from Solana’s. 

“Send me your work schedule.” Redirection is always a good strategy. That and fucking. Obviously, only one is an option for the woman in front of him. 

Panic builds in Solana’s stomach. Why does he want that? Her mind starts to race, arriving at only negative conclusions. Does he want her to quit? That thought kills her. 

Working at the library is the highlight, the only highlight, of her days. She doesn’t know what she would do without that outlet. 

“It won’t get in the way of my duties to you.” Solana typically isn’t the one to advocate for herself. Ever. But this….she can’t lose this, and it scares her to think of what mental decline could happen if she does. Nothing good. That’s for certain. “I—I can get up early and–and make your breakfast and meal prep lunch. A–and I’ll make sure your dinner is ready too by the time you come home—”

Rubbing his temple, exasperated, Roman asks, “what are you talking about?”

She’s not above begging. In a pleading tone, she begs, “please don’t make me quit my job.”

Roman isn’t quite sure what to make of the fact that the most words he’s heard leave Solana’s mouth are practically her begging to keep her job. He can understand it though. He would bet that her only time away from her family was when she was at work. “You can work as little or as much as you want. I don’t care about that.”

His words create instant relief. “Oh–I’m sorry, I thought—”

Roman runs his hand over his face. “You don’t have to apologize for everything.”

“Sor—” Solana drops her head as he exhales. Loudly. It’s not even noon, and he’s already over and done with this damn day.

“What time do you get off today?”

Solana licks her lips, answering. “Three.”

“I’ll meet you then.”

He can see she wants to ask but has decided against it, most likely recognizing his irritation. “We need to get your stuff from that house.” 

And in the midst of her anxiety in this conversation, she finds a glimmer of hope. She’s thankful that this isn’t something she had to initiate to ask him about.  

Something tells her Roman doesn’t like being questioned a lot.

Or at all.

“O–okay.” Is the answer she finally settles on, not wanting to say too much, vowing, “I’ll make sure I’m done by 3pm sharp.”

On one hand, Roman enjoys and respects punctuality, but something tells him Solana’s is based more on fear than anything. “Whenever is fine.”

Nodding and pushing her hair behind her ear, Solana watches Roman walk over to the door, preparing to leave when he asks, “is your brother right handed or left handed?”

His question takes her off guard, and she doesn’t quite know why he’s asking this in the first place. “W-what?”

Roman clearly doesn’t like repeating himself, because his tone takes on an edge. “Is he right handed or left handed?”

Solana swallows. She’s made him mad. Again. “R–right.”

Without another question, he leaves. And once the door shuts, he snaps at Solo, demanding, “why the fuck did you leave her alone with him? I told you to watch her!”

Roman knows his cousin well enough to know that Solo is doing a brilliant job masking his embarrassment at his failure. “She said—”

“I don’t care what she says. You don’t answer to her. You answer to me. Understood?”

Solo keeps his head high, acknowledging, “yes, my Tribal Chief.” Roman wastes no time in exiting the library and entering the SUV waiting for him, slamming the door shut. He pulls out his phone, selecting one of his most recent contacts, hitting dial. 

Jey answers on the third ring, but he’s immediately yelling to someone else, “slam my door one more fucking time, Nicki, and see what happens!” Roman’s jaw clenches, another new source of irritation being presented to him. “Ayo, Uce, now’s not a good time—”

“I don’t care.” Roman’s hot headed cousin and his equally hot headed wife arguing is nothing special. The fight. They fuck. They make up. And do it all over again. It’s not pressing news or even news at all at this point. “The Miller boy. Send him a message. A clear message.”

“I’ve got—”

“Did you hear what I just said?” There must be something in the air or the water, because Roman having to repeat himself is fucking asinine. He speaks once, and everyone should jump immediately. The fact that that isn’t happening is only pissing him off more. “And his right hand…make sure it’s broken.”

Jey sighs on the other end of the phone. “Aight. Me and Jimmy will have it done by the end of the day.”

Roman ends the phone call before his cousin can feed him any more excuses. Head tilted back against the headrest, he tries to settle himself. This day so far has been nothing but inconvenience after inconvenience. 

There’s nothing that pisses him off more than having to repeat himself, having conversations extend longer than they should, and that’s all this day has been thus far. He’s had to over explain and reiterate himself more than Roman feels necessary. 

And the day isn’t even halfway over. 

He needs an outlet.

Roman switches apps, finding one of his more recent contacts and sending out a message. 

Roman: Come over tonight. 

As expected, her reply comes almost right away. 

Samantha: Lol. That didn’t take long.

Samantha: See you then.

————

Solana always struggles with a level of anxiety when entering the home she grew up in. For a myriad of reasons. Most, if not all, being completely valid. Nothing good has ever happened for her in that place. And more often than not, she’d barely be in the house for more than a couple of minutes before she was either being berated or beaten.

Usually both.

But this…..this is different. A lot different, because she’s not walking into hell alone, she’s walking along (behind) Bloodline guards and the 6’3, pure muscled leader of said Bloodline. 

Roman Reigns.

Who also happens to be her husband.

Playing around with the wedding ring on her finger, Solana tries again to remind herself that this is real, that she’s married, that she’s married to Roman Reigns of all people. 

The reality definitely hasn’t set in.

Roman is about to knock on the door again when it swings open. Solana naturally steps back, something Roman takes notice of.

Xavier looks pissed, his fiery gaze landing on her first, but just as quickly as it was present, it's gone, settling into an almost pleasant smile. Directed at Roman, of course.

“Tribal Chief,” he greets. Solana’s gaze is on the ground now, focused on her painted toes instead of the man before her who she’s certain would be unleashing hell on her if not for the multitude of much larger, much stronger men surrounding her. “I wasn’t expecting—”

“I don’t care,” Roman interrupts, voice reeking of indifference. “She needs to go get her stuff.”

“Oh.” Solana can only imagine the difficulty her father is having in not throwing a fit. “Well, we can arrange for it to be delivered—”

“No.”

She means more to think it than to say it, but that intention falls short, because she definitely says it aloud.

And most of her regrets it, but there’s a small slither that doesn’t.

Solana knows her father. She knows him very well. 

Roman has done nothing but piss him off from the very beginning of this whole ordeal, pushing and pushing him. And Solana has always been the object of her father’s anger, but Roman seems intent on making sure that doesn’t happen. 

That means he’ll have to get creative with his punishments.

If he can’t hurt her, he’ll go after the things she loves. 

The few items in that home that she holds near and dear, items that belonged to her mother.

She knows he would dispose of them all so that all that would be retrieved by the movers would be clothes.

And the thought of the only things she has of her mother being discarded like trash makes her sick to her stomach.

She can’t give him that opportunity. 

Looking up, she’s met with two sets of eyes on her. One indicating irritation and the other, curiosity. Swallowing, she stutters, “I’m sorry. I—”

“No.” Roman’s interruption is stark and to the point. “We’re already here. She gets it now.”

“But—”

“Move.”

Xavier’s jaw ticks, but he does as such, stepping to the side. Roman looks back at Solana, motioning for her to walk in. 

Instantly, she’s going to the key holder. She has to make sure she gets her mother’s stuff before anything. But, the key to the attic, the key that’s sat in the same spot since she was a girl, is suddenly missing.

Her stomach drops. 

Without hesitation, she turns to her dad, asking, “wh—where’s the key to the attic?”

Solana knows before he even says anything that she’s not going to like his answer. She just doesn't realize just how much she’s not going to like his answer.

“Oh, I put it in your old room on the dresser.” Solana’s chest is immediately tight, her stomach dropping. Xavier gives that sly smile and little shrug. “Figured there’d be some things you’d want to grab as well.”

It’s hard for Solana to not start crying right then and there, standing between her father and her husband. Two men who dislike her for very different reasons. 

And maybe dislike isn’t a strong enough word to describe the feeling her father has toward her. Because one has to have an inhuman level of vitriol toward another individual to put her in the situation he just did.

That room….Solana hasn’t been in that room in years and planned to never enter it again for as long as she lived. And he knows that. Knows that there’s nothing in there she wants. Knows that she’d rather walk on burning coal barefoot than enter that space of horrific memories and unspeakable horrors. 

“I–I—”

“Is something wrong?”

Roman, watching this whole exchange closely, is instantly annoyed. It’s obvious something is wrong, there’s some story with this old room of hers, because she looks just as terrified as she did last night. And something about this pisses him off all over again, because this man is still trying to defy his orders, still trying to find ways to inflict his torture without lifting a finger. 

“Where’s the room?” 

Solana doesn't expect that question to leave Roman’s mouth, but it instantly brings on another layer of dread. He doesn’t know why she can’t go in that room, and he can never know, but that not knowing is probably going to result in him pushing her to hurry up so they can get the hell out of here.

But, that doesn’t happen. He steps towards her dad and repeats in a calm voice. “Show me.” It’s then she realizes that he’s asking so he can retrieve this key for her.

And that confuses the mess out of her because why? He doesn't have to, doesn’t need to. It doesn’t benefit him in the slightest. 

So why?

But for Roman, it’s simple. He’ll take any opportunity presented to piss off this son of a bitch, and undermining every attempt Miller takes to mess with Solana presents an opportunity for Roman to assert his dominance. 

And it’s obvious by the pure terror that crosses Solana’s face that, for whatever reason, she has zero desire or even ability to enter this room. It does cross him a bit strange that she would have such a reaction to her childhood bedroom, something that typically holds special memories for people.

Until he enters said room. 

Immediately, there’s a darkness about the aura, something heavy and unsettling that he can’t necessarily describe but most definitely feels. It’s a stark contrast to the design and decoration, lots of pink and girly shit, a couple of stuffed animals sitting on the top of the dresser. It’s on the dresser he notices a shattered picture frame that in picking up he sees a photo of a young woman, dark curly hair, beautiful, light eyes and a breathtaking smile. There’s something about her that reminds him of Solana. Her mother. This has to be her mother.

For reasons Roman doesn’t quite understand, there’s something suddenly uncomfortable by looking at this photo, a ghost, someone from the past. A person cruelly and violently ripped away from her family.

It….it hits too close to him.

Laying the broken photo frame down, Roman continues to assess the room and suddenly notices scratches on the door and the wall that holds the door. But, they’re not scratches that come from furniture being moved or kids being rough, they’re clearly nail marks. As if someone was dragged and the scratches a testament of their fight against whatever attack they were facing.

Snatching the key off the dresser, he then redirects his attention to the poorly cleaned splashes of dried blood on the carpet near the bed. He’s suddenly frowning of sorts. 

There’s a story here. A story that paints a dark, grim picture. One that makes Roman slightly curious about just what the hell this girl has really been through in this hellhole?

Not wanting to stay in that creepy ass room any longer than necessary, he walks back out into the living room and ignores Miller’s obvious irritation to reach Solana the key.

Accepting it, she offers the first smile he’s probably seen on her since their first meeting. “Thank you.” Her voice is the usual mixture of soft and quiet but also….grateful. She’s probably the only person in history to ever be so happy at being given something as simple as a key. But Roman isn’t stupid. He recognizes the deeper meaning. 

Nodding, he motions for a few of his men to follow her as she heads for wherever the attic door is located. 

That leaves Roman alone with his least favorite person in the world.

“She can’t take everything, you know.” Xavier shares. He reminds, “she has a brother. My son and I deserve to have something of my late wife to—”

“I don’t care.” And he doesn’t. He honestly, truly doesn’t. “She can take whatever she wants.”

“I understand that she’s your wife, but she was my daughter long before she became your wife. And you’re standing in my house.” Xavier doesn’t skip a beat to contend. “I think you should also remember that, Tribal Chief.”

To be fair, Roman would like to think he’s done a half decent job all day managing his temper. He’s yet to maim or kill anyone which is commendable for him, in and of itself. But something about Xavier pisses him the fuck off to the point where he doesn’t give a damn about controlling his temper. 

And that’s exactly what happens. 

In a matter of seconds, Roman has Xavier by the throat, pinned against the wall, squeezing so tightly he can practically feel the man's bones pressing against his fingertips. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Xavier’s eyes are nearly bugging out of his head as he helplessly grasps at Roman's grip, which only makes the Tribal Chief squeeze harder. “Don’t ever fucking forget who runs this. I run it all!” As much as Roman enjoys playing the long game with this bastard, there’s only so much he can put up with. Miller needs to know Roman is not his daughter, but he damn sure will dictate that any interactions with said daughter go through him. “You see Solana when I say you can see her. You talk to her when I say you can talk to her.” Intensifying his grip, Roman notices the color draining from Xavier’s face. And it’s probably the best thing he’s seen all day. “You live because I allow it. You’re still fucking breathing because I will it.” Recognizing Miller is at the door of unconsciousness, he finally lets the man go, enjoying the sight of him coughing violently, nearly laying on the floor. “Don’t you ever fucking forget that shit.”

Xavier, wisely, doesn't say much after that. And neither does Roman, who simply makes sure his men help Solana gather all she needs, which isn’t that much outside of clothes. He starts to ask her about her car, but something tells him it’s under Xavier’s name, which is why he decides against it.

He’ll just get her another one. 

Roman doesn’t want her to have shit to do with this family, largely because he doesn’t want shit to do with this family.

And he knows what the first step toward initiating that separation will be.

—--------

The Warehouse has always been Roman’s escape.

17,000 square feet of escape, completely revamped and redone by him in his early twenties. It’s a massive compound that serves as both a place to train and compete. The former of which being why he’s present and needing to speak to the one person who he has in charge of all the day to day workings of the Warehouse. 

But, that’s all she’s interested in outside of competing herself and only training those with some fire to them.

It’s why he’s not surprised when Nia takes one look at him, then Solana, and with a snort and roll of her eyes, simply says, “no.”

Roman isn’t an idiot. He knew his cousin would immediately decline, would know what he wanted to ask before it could even leave his mouth.

If only he cared about her objection. 

“Wait here,” he mutters to Solana who only nods, hugging the jacket around her body. Solo remains nearly inches away from her. She looks so out of place, a small part of him can’t blame Nia for declining.

Nia continues to walk the balcony, eyes clearly checking in on the various sets of people training. Roman does as well, just not nearly with the same amount of focus and attention. That’s what he has Nia for.

His blood cousin and close friend since they were kids, there’s few people in this world that Roman trusts, and Nia is grouped in that category. She’s a worthy member of the bloodline and a hell of a person to have alongside you in a fight. 

It’s why she's the perfect person for this task.

“Nia.”

“I said no, Roman.” She turns to him, smirking, taunting him in a way only she and his close family can. "You know, that word that you hate?”

It actually makes him chuckle, a speckle of amusement in a day full of anything but. “If you know I hate it, why are you saying it?”

“Because unlike the rest of the world, I’m not your bitch.”

It’s partially true. Nia has never been one to shy away from being completely and, often, ruthlessly honest with her cousin. It’s something Roman sometimes appreciates, enjoying the occasional challenge and differing perspective.

This isn’t one of those times though. 

He again reiterates. “She needs to be trained.” 

It’s abundantly clear that Solana has no backbone, and he can’t entirely fault her for that because it’s also clear that she’s never really had the chance to develop one. But, that’s no longer the case, because while he can deal with the stammering and quietness, her fragility has to go. 

She has to learn to stand up for herself.

She needs to learn how to fight back.

Nia turns around with a sarcastic chuckle. “You really think that girl can be trained? I saw her at the wedding. She looked terrified the entire time. You breathe too hard in her direction, and she’ll probably have a fucking panic attack.” Roman is briefly taken back to last night. Nia hasn’t the slightest clue how true her words are. “She’s not built for this life.”

Roman doesn’t entirely disagree. If there was ever a person who’d do well and significantly better in something cookie cutter, white picket fence type shit, it’s Solana. But she’s here now, this is her life, so they need to make the best of it. She needs to learn how to survive in this life. and he expresses as such. “Regardless, she needs to learn to defend herself to some extent.”

Nia shrugs, leaning back against the railing and crossing her arms. “So teach her.”

“I don’t have the time. Or the patience.” It’s almost entirely true. There are already so many hats that Roman has to wear. Adding on another one that includes teaching a traumatized young woman how to fight is not an option. Even more, something tells him that Solana would do better training with a woman. She seems most skittish around men.

Nia scoffs, pointing to herself. “And you think I do?”

“Nia….” As much as he enjoys sparring with his cousin from time to time, his patience has grown thin. His tone darkens. “I’m not asking you.”

While tempted to continue to push back, Nia isn’t a stupid woman. She can recognize when Roman is about to lose his cool. “Fucking hell….” With a heavy sigh and shrug of defeat, she accepts. “Fine. I’ll do it, but don’t expect me to like her.”

“I never expect you to like anyone.” He chuckles, adding. “And Nia…..take it easy on her at first.”

Nia curses, instantly accusing, “You think coddling her will help?”

“I know being too rough with her won’t.”

A hard exterior is built from experience and tolerance. Roman fully believes that. However, something tells him his new wife has had enough experiences that anything more could push her closer to breaking point. So approaching it almost gingerly would probably wield the best outcome. 

Nia is, justifiably, vexed. “Whatever. I don’t have time for your weak ass wife. I’ll have Naomi teach her the basics, and once she learns how to actually throw a punch without crying, I’ll take over her training.” 

Roman has no issue with this. Solana seemed to be fine around Naomi at the wedding, so it might actually be a good match. “Fine. Just keep me updated with her progress.” Roman adds, starting to walk away.

“Do I have a choice?”

Instantly, he answers. “Nope.”

Nia’s laughter behind him brings a small smile to his face. 

Rejoining the group, he finds Solana looking just as nervous as he left her. “Let’s go.”

He turns and so does Solo, Roman deciding he’ll talk with Solana about starting training back at the house. But, her small voice calling his name, the first time he’s heard her say as such draws his attention.

Turning around, he asks, “yeah?”

She swallows and starts that damn stammering. It’s hard for him to not snap at her to just get it out. He hates that beating around the bush bullshit. “Umm, can we—uhh, stop somewhere?” Roman does his best to hide his irritation. Where the fuck does she need to go? “I just—-I noticed you don’t have a lot of ingredients at the house, and—and I need some things so I can cook.”

Initially, Roman’s first reaction is to tell her no, that she doesn’t need to cook. He doesn’t need her to cook for him. He does just fine on his own, but that’s the thing that makes him pause. He’s not on his own anymore. She needs to eat too.

So, he agrees, “fine.”

“Ayo, uce!”

Jesus Christ.

Roman needs a vacation. A week long vacation, because the way the past 24hrs has drained him more than anything he’s experienced in the past year is criminal.

The twins jog over, exchanging what is an undeniably awkward acknowledgement to Solana. And he doesn't blame them. She’s so damn docile that they probably don't know how to interact with her.

“Let us catch that ride with you.”

Roman shuts his eyes. “Why?”

Jimmy is the one to answer. “You wanted us to debrief you on that thing from earlier, remember?”

Roman realizes they’re referring to the message he had them send Solana’s brother, which he does want to hear about but not necessarily now.

“She needs to stop at the store before we head back to the house,” Roman informs, hoping the twins will just take a car back to the house to meet him their to debrief.

But that’s too much like right, because they end up in the same SUV as him and Solana, seated in the back, while he sits in the middle with her. And it’s not missed upon him how she’s practically tucked in the corner of the SUV, notebook out as she writes away while his idiotic cousins go on and on in the back about whatever.

The old lady from the library wasn’t kidding. This damn girl is always writing. 

When they arrive at the grocery store, Roman reaches for his wallet, sliding out his black card and handing it to her. “Here. Use this.” 

Roman hadn’t thought about this until just now, thought about the need to make his money available to her. He makes a mental note to have his accountant add Solana to all of his accounts and have cards mailed out with her name. In the meantime, she’ll have to deal with using his.

“Thank you.” She accepts the card, quickly asking, “what’s my limit?”

“What limit?”

Her cheeks redden as she explains. “Like….like how much I can spend?"

“There is none,” he answers with a shrug. “Just get what you need.”

Jey suddenly leans forward, tapping Roman on the shoulder. “Ayo, Big Dog, lemme run this by you.”

“No.”

Of course, the word goes in one ear and out the other. “So, I’m trying to explain to her that it’s not what she thinks. I don’t even care about that bitch, but she’s not trying to hear me. Going on and go about how I ain’t shit, I don’t treat her right—you know, the usual—-and so finally, I just snap on her ass cause who the fuck you think you talking to—”

Jimmy agrees. “She acting like you ain’t got no options.”

Jey sucks his teeth, “man, that’s what I’m saying. Like, I ain’t gotta put up with that shit!”

“Hell naw!”

The idea of grocery shopping doesn’t appeal to Roman in the slightest, but neither does listening to his dumbass cousin complain about his marriage problems to his equally dumbass brother. So, it’s the lesser of two evils, really. 

“Fuck it,” he mutters, unbuckling his seatbelt, and opening the door. Solo and Solana’s eyes fall on him as they’d yet to enter the store. “I’ll go with her.”

Solana looks expectedly surprised as Solo simply nods and gets back in the passenger seat.

“I’ll make it quick.”

Roman says nothing, walking alongside her, still providing enough distance to not make her uncomfortable. 

As long as the twins are harping on and on about stupid shit, she can take as long as she wants.

Once in the store, Solana pushing the cart, Roman realizes she was writing down a grocery list that she uses to track the needed items as they peruse what feels like endless aisles. Granted, he hasn’t been inside an actual grocery store in probably close to two decades, if not longer, so maybe this is normal for a grocery store. 

It’s when they reach the produce section that she seems a bit stumped, chewing on her bottom lip, clearly perplexed.

He starts to ask her what’s wrong, but she walks over to one of the workers and takes him slightly by surprise when she starts speaking in a different language. Spanish, he eventually settles on. It’s also the first time he thinks he’s ever seen her smile. Outside of when he gave her the key And laugh. That one is definitely a first. Both small and quiet, but still, a first. She seems to know or at least be familiar with the worker who digs around the produce and reaches over a packaged bag of whatever produce it is. 

It’s when she returns to place the produce in the basket, continuing to walk, that he asks, “you speak Spanish?”

She looks up at him, but not for too long, as if doing so is forbidden, explaining. “My—my mom taught me. She was originally from Mexico.”

Roman figured as such from the picture he saw in her room that Solana’s mom was Hispanic or had some type of Central American ancestry. He’s also surprised by her answering with more than just 3 to 5 words, providing more information than he asked. 

It’s not something he necessarily cares about, but it doesn’t annoy him like it typically does when people give him a longer answer than what’s necessary. 

“Are—are your cousins always like….like that?” Again, she takes him by surprise, up until the point where she immediately goes into apologizing. “I–I don’t mean it in a bad way. I would never—”

“Yes,” he cuts off her rambling. It’s unnecessary because the answer is simple. “They are.” With a mutter, he adds, “they never shut the fuck up.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees it. That smile smile, this time conjoined with a small laugh that she does a decent job trying to suppress. And it’s like she catches herself, changing the subject as she asks, “umm, are you—like—allergic to anything? Or is there something you don’t like? I can learn—”

“I can eat anything.” It’s a simple, truthful answer. It also seems like something she’d been wanting to ask but only built the courage to do so at the end of their current conversation, even if brief as hell.

Solana doesn’t say much after that, and it confuses Roman when she tries to grab items on shelves much higher than what exceeds her reach. It confuses him because it would be significantly easier for her to just ask him to reach it. Granted, something tells him just her asking to be taken to the grocery store seems to be her daily quota for requests.

So he takes it upon himself, hand on the small of her back, ignoring how she tenses at his touch, to tell her to step aside as he easily retrieves the item. With a tuck of her hair behind her ear and a small “thank you,” she continue shopping but this time actually, still with that same irksome gentleness, asks him to reach items that she cannot. It’s not a lot, just a couple.

And it’s not long before she’s done, checking out with his card that she makes sure to give back to him immediately. He gets the sense that that’s something she thinks is important to him.

It’s not.

The worst he can see her doing is going crazy at fucking Barnes and Nobles.

Roman has his men load the trunk for her, something that also seems to take her off guard. Like she’s not used to the assistance.

And she probably isn’t. 

————

Samantha Irvin has been on Roman’s revolving roster of women since he was in his teens. The longevity being that It’s always been the easiest with her. Sexually, at least. Their compatibility in that one area, the only one he really (only) cares about, is astronomical. But lately, more in the past few months than anything, she’s dropped a comment here and there about wanting more. 

He’s ignored them everytime. 

Roman has never promised Samantha anything more than what they currently are: fuck buddies. She knows this, just like she knows she’s not the only woman he’s fucking. Nothing about that should indicate him wanting more with anyone, including her.

Well, other than the wedding band now on his finger.

Samantha’s gaze falls on that wedding band, a bitter chuckle leaving her mouth. “I still can’t believe you actually did it.”

“Yeah,” he mutters. Discussing his shitshow of a marriage is the last thing he wants to do and far from the reason he left Solana in the middle of the night to come see her, to come work off his frustrations.

The same reason he invited her over tonight. 

Last night was a dumpster fuck, without a doubt. But today with Solana was….decent. Not amazing. Not awful. Just some strange space in between. Even as they arrived back at the estate and she went straight into cooking, creating something he can’t pronounce but can honestly say was delicious, a meal she delivered to him in his office. There was something manageable about that, this level of she does her thing, he does his, and if their paths cross in the process, he can deal with that.

The intimacy though….that’s something he’ll have to figure out, have to navigate, just not now. Not tonight. 

Right now, he just needs Samantha’s talented mouth on him.

She moves her hands up his chest, biting on her bottom lip. “She’s just a little girl, baby. You need a woman who knows how to please you.” Roman knows the other side of what she’s saying or rather what she’s not saying. Another subtle, or not so subtle depending on how you look at it, hint that she’s the one he should settle down with.

In all honesty, he has, or had, zero desire to settle down with anyone.

Especially not with Sam. She’s the kind of woman that’s good for fucking and nothing else. As much as Solana’s extreme passivity annoys the shit out of him, he’d pick that over the bitching Sam would do. He just knows she’d be on his ass about stupid shit like fucking other woman and not paying her enough attention. Like she’d think she’s somehow above him doing who and what the fuck he wants just cause he put a ring on her finger.

Way too needy.

But at least he can actually fucking touch Sam.

Kinda hard to make a baby with someone who has literal fucking panic attacks just from being touched.

It builds up his frustration again, hence Roman grabbing Samantha by the back of her head, forcing it back. She hisses, both from pain and pleasure. It’s another thing he does actually enjoy about her. She lets him be as rough as he wants and needs.

“Why are you still talking?” There may be a slight dim in her eyes at his question, but she hides it well. “I don’t give a fuck what you think.” He releases his grip and shoves her to her knees. “Put that mouth to actual good use.”

If she’s hurt by his brusque tone, she doesn’t show it, simply bringing her hands to unbuckle his pants. “I got you, daddy…” 

She gets his zipper down when a scream sounds throughout the house, causing her to freeze in her motions as she shoots Roman a confused look.

“What the hell?” Samantha’s obvious irritation is the last thing he hears before adjusting himself as he heads out the room and down the hall.

For some reason, Roman already knows what to expect before he even reaches Solana’s room. Opting against knocking, he opens the door and finds her twisting and turning in the bed, eyes shut, chest moving up and down, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead.

Yeah….just as he expected. 

Sighing, he walks over to the bed, sitting on the side. “Solana.”

“No.....” she’s crying in her sleep, clearly in the midst of a nightmare. Or night terror. “Mom, please…don’t leave me.”

Roman tenses. Immediately, he knows exactly what her nightmare is. He brings hands to her shoulder, shaking her. “Solana, wake up.”

“No…..”

He says her name again, a bit louder, firmer, “Solana, wake up.”

“No!” She screams again, shooting up from the bed, immediately fighting and pushing against his body. “Leave me alone!” She’s crying, clearly fighting against the demons one faces once in life but forever battles, even when they’re gone. 

It’s a permanent scar on the soul.

“Solana,” he says again, still stern, but somehow gentle. “You’re fine. You’re safe.” It’s the ‘safe’ word that seems to trigger something for her, mouth still ajar, painting heavily but no longer struggling against him. “It was just a bad dream.”

There’s a fleeting thought he has about pushing some of the flyaway hairs out of her face, but it’s gone before he can really process let alone act on said thought.

Solana looks at his hands on her forearm and immediately tugs them back to her body, hugging herself. She drops her head, eyes closing, “I’m—I’m sorry.”

His eyes take her in, studying her, “it’s fine.”

“I—I need some air.” She kicks the blankets off her body and swings her legs over the bed, hurriedly grabbing a notebook off the dresser and rushing out of the room past a smirking Samantha.

Roman shuts his eyes and runs his hand over his face, ignoring the strange array of emotions, or something like that, he’s experiencing.

He hasn’t been this exposed to this kind of behavior in years.

This may be more complicated than he realized. 

And it’s as he stands up from the bed, walking near the door that Samantha smirks. “Did she seriously say mom?”  His eyes snap to her as she runs her hands up and down his chest. “What a fucking child.”

Her words take him back, reframe things so that it’s not Solana the child crying for her mother not to be taken from her. It’s a young boy. Burned, bloody, and beat, fading in and out consciousness, the gaze of fiery flames in his peripheral vision, the smell of burning flesh invading his nostrils, the sound of wails and sirens all mingling together from the shock of it all. 

Roman catches himself, forcing those buried memories back where they belong in the very back of his mind. He then looks at Sam for a good five seconds before demanding, “get the fuck out.”

She pauses and then asks with an uncomfortable laugh, “what?”

“Get the fuck out of my house,” he repeats, shoving her hands off him. 

“What did I sa—”

“Get out!” Roman snaps, volume and tone making her jump. He probably scared her. He also doesn’t care. He just wants her gone. And she does as such, walking away without another word of protest. 

Left alone, he tries to gather himself, moving back to his room.

So much for a fucking distraction.

 —----- 

Roman finds her out back on the patio. 

He needed to clear his head, get back into his tunnel vision focus, and the gym he had included when he built the house is the perfect place to do that. Two hours later, recentered and showered, he readies to call it a night. But, he realizes he probably shouldn’t do as such until he makes sure Solana is at least partially stable enough to be left alone. 

And she is. 

She’s laid out, sleeping on the rattan lounge chair, a closed notebook tucked into her side. Roman recognizes it as the same one she was writing in that day at the library as well as the one she used for her grocery list just earlier in the day. 

He settles down on the chair next to her, studying her. Even in her sleep, she looks….sad. And for the first time in the midst of all these strange experiences with her, Roman understands. He understands her sadness, understands her difficulty, understands the memories that clearly haunt her.

The same way they used to haunt him. 

His hand goes to his tatted arm, intricate tribal tattoo hiding permanent remnants of that night of hell. The night that he once had the same kind of night terrors about. 

Noticing the breeze, he walks back into the house, grabbing one of the throw blankets on the sofa. Roman is careful to not directly touch her as he lays it over her body. A part of him is tempted to carry her back to her room, but he remembers these kinds of nights. The kind where it’s a challenge to escape the memories, let alone find a place and mental space to turn your brain off enough to just sleep.

So he leaves her alone, allowing her to enjoy the only escape she clearly has in this life.

[marvelsmylife]

Competition

Pairing: Nesta Archeron x reader

Plot: After discovering Cassian slept with you, Nesta becomes jealous and wants to see if you truly are “competition” 

A/n It’s not as kinky as I promised it was going to be, but the next part (the Nessian x reader threesome) is going to have you blushing. 

Warning: smut. Don’t read if you’re not over the age of eighteen. Jealousy, angst. Helion and the reader also get it on during this chapter.

ACOTAR Masterlist

Inner Circles Whore Masterlist

Nesta didn’t want to admit it, but she was jealous. She discovered Cassian had sex with you a week before she slept with him and accepted the mating bond. He had confessed it out of guilt and wanted to start their relationship with no secrets. 

While Nesta promised Cassian she was ok with the fact he had slept with you, in reality, she wasn’t. She knew it made her a hypocrite for being mad for sleeping with someone else before they got together. Knowing especially that she lost count of how many men she slept with.

So Nesta bottled her emotions about it until Rhysand ordered Cassian to join you at the Day Court. “If Cassian is going to the day court, then so am I,” Nesta announced.

Rhysand wanted to argue with Nesta that she couldn’t go, but Feyre placed her hand on his shoulder and told Nesta she was more than welcome to go. The only condition was that she couldn’t cause trouble while she was over there. She reminded her that Helion was a dear friend and a close ally that they could not afford to lose.

After promising Rhysand and Feyre that she would be on her best behavior, Nesta and Cassian left for the day court. Once they arrived, Cassian reminded her, “Play nice with y/n while we’re here, ok?”

“As long as she doesn’t touch you, everything will be fine,” Nesta gave Cassian a forced smile before entering Helion’s palace.

To Nesta’s surprise, you paid no mind to her and Cassian when they arrived at the Day Court. Instead, your attention was solely on Helion, and was saying anything and everything to stroke his ego. There were times Nesta wanted to roll her eyes as she watched Helion grope you in front of everyone.

Even though Cassian had warned her not to confront you about your time together, Nesta decided to pay you a visit and do the one thing she was ordered not to do. She had all the questions she had planned to ask you about your past with Cassian memorized. 

Unfortunately, those questions left her mind the second she stepped into your room. Her eyes widened when she spotted you having sex with Helion, "Ah, Nesta, are you here to join our little party?” Helion asked with a smirk.

“Please join us, I promise you’ll enjoy it,” you added.

Nesta would be lying if she said she wouldn’t mind joining you, especially after seeing how beautiful you looked riding Helion’s cock. She then realized why Cassian sought you out while she fucked other men. You looked like a goddess fucking Helion, and she began to wonder what you looked like fucking Cassian. She also began to picture the two of you getting fucked by Cassian and wondered what it would feel like to fuck another female. 

“I need to speak to y/n in private,” Nesta announced and caused you to stop, which earned a groan from Helion.

Helion was about to protest, but you got off of him and handed him his robe, “It’s ok, we can continue this later,” you told the high lord of the day court.

As soon as Helion had left the room, Nesta asked, “Do you have feelings for Cassian?”

A stunned expression appeared on your face at Nesta’s question, “Uh, no. Why do you ask?”

“Because you were fucking him for who knows how long, surely you developed feelings for him,” Nesta replied in an icy tone.

A smile crept up on your face at Nesta’s explanation, which caused Nesta to get angrier, “Nesta, I am sorry for fucking your mate, but I was doing what I was hired to do. And that is to fuck whoever is interested in fucking. I have zero desire to ever be with Cassian. That male is so sickeningly in love with you, and it’s nauseating. We probably talk more about how much he loves you more than actually fucking. That male has it bad for you.” 

Nesta started feeling guilty for her earlier words after your explanation and was ready to apologize when you decided to add, “And I don’t blame him, you’re fucking gorgeous.” You began to play with the ends of Nesta’s hair and pressed your naked body against her. “Have you ever been with another female before?” A smirk was plastered on your face when you noticed Nesta beginning to blush and shook her head no, “Would you like to? I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

Nesta let out a shaky breath as she watched you lean in and kissed the corner of her mouth. “Let me please you, Nesta,” you whispered into her ear.

Nesta tilted her head to be face to face with you, “Fuck it,” Nesta leaned in and kissed you. 

Her hands were tugging on your hair as she deepened the kiss and earned a moan from you. “As much as I love a dominant woman in bed, I’m in charge tonight, and you’re going to do everything I order you to do,” you reached under Nesta’s nightgown and smiled when you realized he wasn’t wearing underwear. “It seems you were really enjoying the show Helion and I were performing.”

Nesta wanted to argue back until she felt your thumb rub against her clit. “Oh gods,” Nesta closed her eyes at your action and buried her face against your neck.

“I haven’t even done anything, and you’re already calling to the gods,” you removed Nesta’s nightgown before guiding her to your bed, “Be a good girl and spread your legs for me.”

Nesta obeyed, and you let out a groan at the sight that was in front of you. “Such a beautiful female. Let’s see if you taste as good as you look.”

Nesta let out a small whimper as you kissed your way up her body and played with her breasts. Those soft whimpers turned into loud moans once you got between her legs and started working your tongue inside of her. Even though this wasn’t the first time someone had gone down on her, this was the first time she enjoyed it. 

Aside from Cassian, most of the males Nesta was involved with only shoved their fingers inside her a few times and decided that was enough foreplay before they fucked. With you, it was a different story.

Nesta realized that since you were a female, you were doing to her everything you would want done to yourself. “I was right. You taste just as good as you look,” you smiled up at Nesta while your fingers were deep inside her, and your tongue was flicking her now sensitive clit. 

Nesta had lost count of how many orgasms you gave her, but after her latest one, she asked, “I want to know how you taste.”

A surprised expression appeared on your face, and replied, “Um, are you sure? I was fucking Helion earlier, and came inside me multiple times.”

“I don’t care,” Nesta replied, “I need to know.”

Not one to deny someone’s request, you pulled away from Nesta and laid on the bed. After reassuring her she’d do great and just do what she would want done to her, Nesta began. 

It was a little awkward at first for Nesta because she, in fact, could taste Helion’s cum mixed with yours. She kept going as soon as she heard you moan her name for the first time. She got better over time after you guided her. Once you got to your fourth orgasm, Nesta knew precisely what to do to get you off. “Gods, Nes, keep fucking doing that,” you shouted as Nesta curled her fingers inside you while she took one of your breasts in her mouth.

“Who’s calling to the gods now?” Nesta taunted as she continued her actions.

You let out a shaky laugh at Nesta’s comment before pulling her into a kiss and started grinding yourself against her fingers, encouraging her to go faster. Nesta took the hint and granted your wish. A slew of curse words escaped your lips as another orgasm rippled through your body. 

You chanted Nesta’s name through your orgasm. “You look so gorgeous when you cum y/n” Nesta pulled you into a kiss before removing her fingers, “Taste yourself.”

Nesta found herself getting turned on even more when you did as she asked and sucked on them. “Fuck,” Nesta cursed when she felt you swirl your tongue around her fingers.

Nesta was ready to kiss you again when a loud cough stopped her. Looking over you, and Nesta spotted Cassian jerking off by your door. “As much as I enjoy watching you two, when can I join the fun ?”

You and Nesta exchange looks before replying,” Now.” Cassian was about to jump onto the bed when you added, “But you’re going to have to be tied up as punishment for being a peeping Tom.”

“Yes, and you won’t be able to cum until both of us allow you to,” Nesta also added as she got off the bed and got the rope from the table where a bunch of sex toys were on.

“I don’t care. I just want to both of you right now,” Cassian knew he would regret saying that later, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to fuck the both of you at the same time.

@lilah-asteria @saltedcoffeescotch @golden-canyon @nayaniasworld @slut4acotar @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay @harrystylesfan2686 @heartless-tate @fussel9913 @123345566 @paleidiot @whyshouldihaveanam3 @idek-what-to-put 

A/n I’m not going to lie, I had Nicholas Galitzine’s voice in my head when I wrote “Nesta, I am sorry for fucking your mate, but I was doing what I was hired to do” because of his character in Bottoms 😂😂😂😂.

[thewulf]

Frosted Steel || Cassian

Summary: Request -Can i request a Cassian x Reader?? Here's what I'm thinking-Reader is from winter court. She's gifted with unique ice-binding magic from her home and arrives in Velaris to help Rhysand finalize a critical peace treaty?... Read Rest Here

A/N: Well... this one got away from me hahaha but I had a blast writing it. Def in the zone writing these ACOTAR fics so please keep sending them my way!

Pairing: Cassian x Female Reader (Winter Court Reader)

Word Count: 9.8k + (WHOOPS)

TW: swords, reader gets cut, blood, general ACOTAR warnings

In the silent, shimmering halls of the Winter Court you stood before Kallias, your father and the formidable High Lord. His piercing blue eyes reflect both concern and determination as he addresses you. The throne room was usually a place of austere beauty but felt colder today. The frost patterns on the walls mirroring the tension in the air.

"Velaris is not just another city, and this is not merely a diplomatic visit my daughter," Kallias begins. His voice resonant and commanding. "Rhysand needs our support to finalize a peace treaty that could stabilize relations of the Winter Court for generations. I need someone who can represent our interests with both power and delicacy. Someone like you."

You shift slightly with your boots whispering against the icy floor. "But father, my magic is suited for creation not conflict. Surely there are others better suited to navigate the intricacies of a peace treaty?" You tried your best to convince him, but it was sure to fall of deaf ears. When he had a plan there was no talking him out of it.

Kallias rises. His height and presence filling the room with an almost tangible force. "No one else possesses your unique abilities or your perspective," he insists. "You understand the fragile nature of peace. This treaty needs more than just political acumen… it needs the trust and bond that only your magic can foster." You knew exactly what he was doing. He was trying to flatter you. You lowered your gaze knowing there was no talking him out of this. You felt the weight of his expectations pressing into you. It is an honor yes, but a daunting one, nonetheless. The responsibility feels as heavy as the ice that clings to the peaks of your homeland.

Seeing your hesitation Kallias softens before stepping down from the dais to place a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I would not ask this of you if I did not believe in your ability to carry our hopes," he says. His tone infused with a rare warmth. "You have always risen to the challenges presented to you, greater though they may seem."

Drawing a deep breath you nod, accepting the mantle he's offering. "I will go to Velaris. I will help broker this peace." You spoke even though you truly did not want to go.

Kallias smiles with pride evident in his eyes. "Rhysand has arranged for an escort to meet you at the city gates. They will ensure your safety and aid in your acclimation to the Night Court's ways. Spend some time there. Get to know them. It will only aid in our recovery efforts after the war.” As you turn to leave your heart steadies itself. The path ahead is uncertain and is filled with potential alliances and hidden perils. But as the frost air fills your lungs you feel your resolve harden. You will meet this challenge as you have met all others with the cool grace and quiet strength of winter itself.

He didn’t give you long to get ready to leave. Within a day you were already finding yourself at the outskirts of Velaris, the once hidden city of the Night Court. As you step through the threshold into the city your senses are immediately overwhelmed by the vivid contrasts. Unlike the icy, silent elegance of your homeland, Velaris pulses with life. Its streets bustling with faeries of every conceivable form and hue. The air here carries the warmth of starlight even into the night. It was a stark contrast to the crisp, cold air of the Winter Court. Your unique ice-binding magic was a rare gift in your cold dominion, and it stirred within you responding to the latent energies of this foreign land.

Your arrival isn't just a mere visit as your father had informed you. It's a mission charged with the weight of potential peace or conflict. Directed by your father you are here to assist Rhysand, the famed High Lord of the Night Court and one you were incredibly intimidated by, in finalizing the critical peace treaty. The responsibility weighs heavily on your shoulders as the outcome could define the future relationships between your frigid realm and the temperate lands of the Night Court.

As you glide through the throngs of fae your eyes marvel at the architectural wonders of Velaris. The buildings around you display intricate designs that emit an ethereal glow, seeming both ancient and vibrantly alive. Despite the surrounding beauty you remain vigilant, your magic at the ready. Your heart beats a complex rhythm of excitement and caution as you near the meeting point. In Velaris, amidst allies and strangers, you must navigate the intricacies of court politics. Utilizing your magical talents for diplomacy and perhaps learn to defend yourself in more ways than one.

However, a different sensation stirs within you—a blend of nervousness and unease—as you anticipate your first encounter with Rhysand and Feyre. Both are Daemati, a kind of power that deeply unsettles you. This fear stems from a harrowing past encounter with a Daemati under Amarantha's command who had mercilessly killed twelve children of the Winter Court. One of these children was your Ivy. She was a young fae you were mentoring. Ivy, like yourself, possessed potent abilities but her promise was brutally cut short. She was a loss that still haunts you to this day.

Now as you approach the House of Wind with your escort a mix of fear and determination tingles through your nerves. You replay the pain of your past and the loss that continuously gnaws at your spirit. Yet, you steady yourself with the knowledge that your father has prepared you well to shield your thoughts. He had trained you relentlessly once he returned from under the mountain. At the time it frustrated you but now, in this moment, you are profoundly grateful for his persistence.

Rhysand and Feyre greet you at the grand entrance. Their presence was both awe-inspiring and intimidating. Rhysand's dark hair and piercing gaze are balanced by a surprisingly warm smile. While Feyre's poise and grace exude a calm strength. Though their reputations are fair and just leaders precede them you can't shake the lingering trepidation of their unique abilities.

"Welcome to Velaris," Rhysand says. His voice both smooth and inviting. "We are honored to assist the Winter Court in these crucial talks."

You manage a polite nod making sure to keep your mental shields tightly woven, an invisible armor against any potential intrusion. Rhysand’s eyes seem to glimmer with a hint of understanding, but he makes no move to address the unspoken tension.

Feyre then steps forward with a gentle smile. Her empathy palpable even without words. "We hope you find comfort here during your stay. If there's anything you need at all, please let us know."

As they lead you through the corridors of their home filled with the light of glowing crystals and the scent of night-blooming flowers you remind yourself of the mission at hand. You are here to negotiate peace. To secure a future for your court. Despite the warmth of their welcome, you remain vigilant, prepared to protect your thoughts and heart from the painful memories of the past and the daunting power of the present.

After showing you to your room, a beautiful space with a view of Velaris that twinkles like a starlit sky, Feyre gently suggests that you join them for dinner. As you follow her down to the dining area your nervousness manifests subtly. Your leg shakes rhythmically, a silent tick showing the unease churning inside you. The room is beautifully set with candles flickering softly. They cast a warm light over the array of dishes that smell of spices and something sweetly floral.

You take your seat making sure to deliberately avoid the gazes of Rhysand and Feyre who try to make the atmosphere as welcoming as possible. Your leg continues to shake under the table and despite their friendly demeanor you find yourself unable to meet their eyes. You choose instead to focus on the intricate patterns of the tablecloth. You felt terribly out of your element. Why had your father sent you here? You couldn’t even look them in the eyes, how were you going to negotiate peace with them?

Noticing your discomfort Rhysand addresses the elephant in the room with a gentle directness. "It must be quite unsettling being far from home and surrounded by strangers. Especially strangers who possess abilities that might seem... invasive. We both understand the significance of mental privacy and consent," he begins. His tone imbued with empathy. His acknowledgment of his and Feyre's Daemati powers catches your attention prompting you to glance up briefly.

"We're committed to using our powers to protect and heal, never to harm or coerce," Rhysand continues hoping to ease your worry. "It's a rule we hold sacred in Velaris. A promise to each other and to those we welcome into our home."

As Rhysand speaks there is a sincerity radiating with each word. You find the courage to lift your eyes and meet his gaze for the first time this evening. Something in his expression, a deep-seated earnestness, cuts through the fog of your apprehension. You nod slowly acknowledging his pledge and the safety it promises.

"Thank you," you speak quietly. "I've heard much about both of you and your abilities. Forgive me for being so… cold." The smirk that follows is light and tinged with the irony of your homeland's icy reputation.

Your gaze shifts between Rhysand and Feyre. Their attentive postures encouraging you to continue. "The reason for my caution," you explain, "stems from a… an awful experience. One of the children taken by Amarantha's enforcer was under my protection. Her name was Ivy. I was supposed to shield her. Protect her. To nurture her abilities. But I could only watch helpless as her mind was torn apart. Piece by piece. It was... traumatizing to say the least. The fear of that power. The fear of it being used again so mercilessly has stayed with me." You let out the breath you were holding feeling a weight being slowly lifted off your shoulders in your admission.

Taking a deep breath, you fight through the tide of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. "Ivy was more than just a pupil to me. She was like a daughter," you begin. Your voice trembling as the words spill out. “Young and brilliant. Her very presence could brighten the darkest winter nights. She had a rare gift for ice magic. The kind that comes once in a generation. Ivy could weave frost into intricate sculptures of breathtaking beauty. She could coax snowflakes into patterns that told stories. Her magic wasn’t just powerful, it was art. Art in the purest and most captivating form."

Your voice cracks as the memory surges forward, raw, and as sharp as the day it happened. "When the enforcer came, I tried to shield her. I stood between them. I begged him to take me instead. But he just laughed..." Your hands clench into fists at the memory with you nails digging into your palms as if to anchor you against the pain. "And then he turned his attention to her. Ivy was just a girl. A beautiful little girl brimming with potential, and I had to watch from a distance… utterly powerless, as he ripped it all away. Her screams... the look of sheer terror in her eyes... it's etched into my memory. A nightmare that never fades."

Pausing, you swallow hard, feeling the sting of tears as they threaten to breach your composure. "I couldn't save her. The guilt of that moment, the utter helplessness. It’s haunted me ever since." You wipe away a tear that manages to escape, your voice a whisper now. "That’s why I’m so wary around Daemati. That’s why your powers… even though I know you use them for good, initially stirred such deep fear in me. The memory of what was done with similar abilities. It terrifies me still."

As you finish the room is enveloped in a heavy silence. Rhysand and Feyre absorbing the depth of your pain. Each of their faces etched with compassion and sorrow for your loss. Feyre's reaction is immediate and visceral. Her eyes fill with tears, and they silently overflow as she listens to the end of your harrowing experience. Moved deeply by your pain and the horrific loss of Ivy, she can barely contain her distress, reflecting her profound empathy.

"I'm so sorry," Feyre whispers. Her voice quivering as she reaches across the table, seeking to provide comfort even as she struggles with her own reaction. "That you had to go through that, to witness such horror... it's just unthinkable. I can't express how deeply sorry I am for your loss and your pain."

Rhysand's expression is one of solemn resolve as he observes both you and Feyre. He places a reassuring hand on her shoulder offering her a silent strength before turning his attention to you with a serious yet compassionate gaze. "What happened to Ivy, the terror she endured—such things are what we fight against every day," he says firmly. "Under my watch we hold ourselves to a promise: that we use our power to protect, to heal, not to harm. What you experienced will not happen here. You have my word." He nods his head in reverence.

The sincerity in Rhysand's voice and his protective assurance coupled with Feyre's empathetic tears create a poignant moment of understanding and solidarity. It offers a small yet significant reassurance that in Velaris you might find not only safety but also allies who genuinely care about your well-being.

As dinner progresses the conversation gradually shifts towards lighter topics. Focusing on the details of the peace treaty. The atmosphere has eased significantly with Rhysand and Feyre both engaging in thoughtful dialogue about the future plans and the roles each court might play in fostering peace. You find yourself becoming more invested in the conversation feeling a bit more at ease with each passing moment.

Just as you're beginning to relax fully the door bursts open and two figures storm in, deep in a heated debate. Their voices are raised, each trying to overpower the other with their arguments.

“You think charging in without a plan is the answer, Cassian? That’s reckless, even for you,” the darker-haired one asserts, his expression intense and clearly frustrated.

“And you think waiting around is going to solve our problems, Az? We can’t just leave it unresolved!” the larger man retorts with his broad frame gesturing emphatically.

Rhysand sighs, setting down his utensils before looking between his two friends. “Alright, what’s this about?” he asks, ready to mediate with a practiced ease.

As Cassian and Azriel's loud entrance interrupted the dinner your eyes immediately locked with Cassian's. Despite the intensity of their ongoing argument something about his direct gaze halted all other thoughts. It was as if a gust of wind had swept through the room, leaving you momentarily breathless. Amidst the unexpected disruption the corner of your mouth quirked up in amusement. Such candid, boisterous dynamics were a rare sight back in the Winter Court and the sheer openness of it all struck you as refreshingly odd. Even as the argument continued your focus remained riveted on Cassian. You found it impossible to break away from his gaze, his eyes holding a mixture of passion and warmth that was intensely captivating.

Catching your amused smile, Cassian halts mid-sentence. A playful glint appearing in his eyes. “And who do we have here?” he asks. His tone shifting to one of curiosity mixed with a hint of charm. “A spy from the Winter Court come to watch us squabble like market hagglers?”

Azriel rolls his eyes at Cassian’s dramatics. “Ignore him. Cassian thinks every new face is part of a grand intrigue.”

Rhysand chuckles and intervenes before Cassian can respond. “No spies here, just Kallias’s daughter from the Winter Court. She’s here to assist with the peace treaty negotiations. Remember?” Rhysand explains gesturing toward you with a warm smile. “And apparently to witness the Night Court's General and Spymaster in their, let’s say, natural habitat.”

Cassian’s face lights up with a broad grin as he extends a hand in greeting. His earlier fervor now redirected into welcoming you. “Well then, welcome to Velaris! I’m Cassian, the General. And the brooding shadow over there is Azriel, our Spymaster. Seems you’ve got a front-row seat to our tactical disputes.”

Azriel gives you a nod, his earlier annoyance fading into a reserved smile. "It’s good to meet you. Please don’t mind us. We argue, but it’s all in the spirit of making the best decisions for our people."

Your initial amusement grows into a genuine smile, touched by the warmth and candidness of their welcome, even amidst their lively disputes. This evening has certainly turned out to be full of surprises. Painting a vivid picture of the Night Court as a place of vibrant personalities and fierce loyalty.

As the energy from their spirited discussions simmers down and the laughter echoes into a comfortable lull you take the opportunity to express your amusement at their robust debate. Greeting Cassian and Azriel warmly you share how refreshing you find the candid nature of the Night Court. It's a stark contrast to the more reserved and formal interactions typical of the Winter Court, sparking your curiosity about the dynamics of this lively group.

"Well, it's certainly different here," you comment with a light laugh. "I'm looking forward to seeing more of this... enthusiasm during my stay. I'll be here for a month or so. I hope to learn as much as I can."

Rhysand, seizing on your mention of an extended stay, exchanges a quick glance with Cassian. He gave him a sly smile as he senses his brothers attention shifting toward you almost immediately. "A month or so gives us plenty of time," he says thoughtfully. "If you're interested in learning more than just politics perhaps you'd like to join some of our training sessions? Cassian here leads our warriors and I'm sure he could arrange something that accommodates your skills and interests."

Cassian’s eyes light up at the suggestion. He was always eager to bring someone new into the fold of his training regimens. Especially someone as unique as you seemed to be. "Absolutely," he agrees with an enthusiastic nod. "It’s not all sword swinging and strength training. We focus on strategy, agility, and even some elemental control that might align nicely with your ice magic. It could be a good way to blend some of the Winter Court techniques with ours."

As Rhysand suggests joining the training sessions you hesitate, a flicker of doubt crossing your face. "I appreciate the offer but I'm not really a fighter," you admit slightly apologetic in your nature. "My strengths lie more in diplomacy and magic, particularly ice magic. I'm not sure how well I'd fit into a warrior's training regimen."

Rhysand, observing the interplay at the table, seems particularly keen on your participation. His insight as a leader might allow him to sense the undercurrent of interest from Cassian toward you. Something potentially deeper than it appears. He pushes gently but with a knowing smile, "It’s not just about fighting. It’s about understanding different perspectives and disciplines. It could be a valuable experience."

Cassian although typically straightforward and jovially aggressive, adopts a slightly softer demeanor. His usual bravado tempered by earnestness. "Training can also be about balance and harmony. About integrating the physical with the magical. Your skills could bring a fresh perspective, not just to our tactics but to our understanding of magic and combat."

Then Azriel, who normally stays quiet in such discussions adds his own encouragement. His subdued voice carrying weight. "It’s worth exploring. Sometimes stepping into unfamiliar territory reveals more about our strengths. It could be enlightening for all of us."

Cassian's expression briefly reveals his surprise at Azriel’s interjection. It was a small, almost imperceptible lift of his eyebrows signaling to you that Azriel's encouragement is out of the ordinary. This small gesture subtly hints at the importance of the moment.

Feyre as if sensing the nuanced shifts in the conversation supports their suggestions with a warm and inclusive gesture. "It’s also a way to connect with everyone here. Our training sessions are as much about building relationships as they are about building skills. It would be wonderful to have you join, even just a few times to see how it feels."

Encouraged by their collective support and Cassian's surprised yet approving glance following Azriel's seemingly rare endorsement you find yourself reconsidering their proposal more seriously. "Alright. I'll give it a try," you agree, a tentative excitement building within you. "This will be very… interesting."

"Excellent," Cassian says. His eyes brightening with enthusiasm. "We’ll start at a pace that feels right for you. It’s about growth and learning, not just exertion."

As the dinner concludes and plans for your training begin to take shape you can't help but feel an intriguing pull towards what lies ahead. The possibility of new friendships and perhaps deeper bonds begins to form, hinting at the start of an enriching journey within the Night Court.

On your first day at the training grounds, the crisp morning air of Velaris is invigorating, filled with the sounds of clashing weapons and distant calls from sparring partners. Cassian leads you to a quieter section reserved for one-on-one sessions away from the more vigorous activities of his usual warriors. The atmosphere is slightly tense. The space between you filled with cautious curiosity. Each of you is clearly gauging the other trying to find a comfortable rhythm in this new training partnership.

"Let’s see what you’ve got," Cassian suggests. His tone friendly but carrying a hint of challenge. He watches intently as you demonstrate some basic maneuvers with your ice magic. You created delicate yet sharp frost patterns that float gracefully in the air. His nods of approval are sparing, and you can tell he’s mentally noting each display of skill though he keeps his feedback measured and professional.

As the days progress the initial stiffness that marked your interactions begins to melt away. Cassian’s coaching style is intense. His commands are sharp, his expectations high. However, as you meet his challenges with increasing confidence you begin to understand the method behind his rigor. You also start to catch glimpses of humor in his sharp eyes. A sign that there’s more to this formidable warrior than just discipline and strength.

"Try not to freeze my soldiers. We’re running out of good men as it is," he jokes one morning after you skillfully direct a swirl of ice around a training dummy skillfully stopping just short of a group of soldiers watching nearby.

With a small laugh you shoot back, "I thought the Night Court could handle a little cold."

His laughter in response is hearty. A sound that seems to echo around the quiet corner of the training grounds. It's a turning point, signaling a shift from mutual respect to something warmer, more friendly.

By the end of the week your training sessions are characterized by easy banter and playful challenges. One afternoon Cassian dodges your icy projectiles with nimble grace only to slip slightly on a patch of ice you cunningly left in his path. "Not bad for a scrawny little thing," he grins while steadying himself with the agility of a cat.

In response you flash a mischievous smile and with a subtle flick of your wrist, you freeze his boots to the ground. "And not bad for a brawny brute," you retort. Laughter bursts from a few nearby trainees who have started to look forward to these exchanges between the two of you.

Cassian manages to break free before brushing ice from his boots with mock indignation. "You’re going to pay for that one," he warns though his eyes sparkle with amusement.

As the week draws to a close the training ground has transformed from a place of cautious appraisal to one of growth and friendship. Your sessions with Cassian are no longer just about learning to integrate your ice magic with physical combat. They’re also about the laughter shared over slipped footing, the shared grins after successful maneuvers, and the light-hearted jests that now flow freely between you. This evolving camaraderie promises not just improved skills but a deepening bond, hinting at the development of a relationship built on respect, challenge, and mutual delight in each other's company.

The atmosphere at the training grounds is usually charged with the sounds of diligent practice but today there’s an added layer of excitement due to some young onlookers from the Night Court. Cassian plans a session that balances demonstrations of your unique ice magic with some basic combat techniques hoping to impress not just you but the eager young fae watching from a distance.

Wearing your elegant Winter Court attire, which was more suited for display than combat, you find yourself not in your usual training leathers. Today was supposed to be about finesse and control not full-contact sparring. As Cassian readies the next exercise you catch the eyes of the children peeking out from behind the trees. Their expressions were filled with awe and curiosity. Smiling back at them your attention momentarily drifts from the task at hand.

Cassian notices your distraction and the intricate fabric of your attire raising an eyebrow in mild concern. "Are you sure you wouldn't prefer to change into something more... practical?" he asks you once more. His voice laced with skepticism.

You shake your head while stepping forward confidently. "I believe today's session can benefit from a different approach," you explain. Your voice steady, confident. "My attire from the Winter Court is designed not only for aesthetics but for mobility in a certain style of combat. It’s more strategic and less about direct confrontation. It might offer a new perspective for your warriors."

Cassian looks dubious but intrigued by your assurance and the potential learning opportunity for his trainees. After a moment of consideration, he nods slowly. "Alright," he concedes. His tone cautious yet curious. "We'll adjust today's training to focus on technique and precision. We'll go light on the physical combat to accommodate your attire."

Grateful for his flexibility you prepare to demonstrate that finesse and strategy can be as effective as brute strength hoping to prove the value of your unique approach and the versatility of your court's combat style.

As dusk deepened over the training grounds, the session with Cassian was intensifying. He was fully focused on you, guiding, and challenging you with each swing of his blunted training blade. He did not notice Azriel's silent approach until his brother was almost beside them, landing softly. The sudden appearance of Azriel, so smooth and silent, caught your eye at the crucial moment.

Cassian, thinking you were prepared and about to dodge, continued with his planned attack and swung the blunted blade in a broad, sweeping motion towards you. Normally you would have sidestepped smoothly but distracted by Azriel's unexpected arrival you froze. The blade, though blunt for training, struck directly against your side with surprising force due to your lack of movement. The impact was hard enough to slice through the delicate fabric of your Winter Court dress and nick your skin, drawing a line of blood.

Immediately realizing the mishap Cassian dropped his sword and rushed to your side, his expression flooded with concern. "Are you alright? I thought you saw me coming," he asked quickly as his voice was laced with worry.

Trying to mask the sharp sting and the sudden warmth of blood seeping through your dress, you attempted to reassure him, "I’m okay, Cassian, really, it was just a shock more than anything—"

But as you spoke a wave of dizziness overwhelmed you, your knees buckling under the dual assault of pain and sudden faintness. As you started to fall Cassian instinctively reached out, catching you just in time. His hands which were initially meant to steady you felt the wetness of blood through the fabric of your dress. His eyes widened in horror as he saw the bright red on his hands realizing the cut was more serious than a mere scrape.

Without a moment's hesitation Cassian scooped you up into his arms. His movements were swift and filled with urgent care. He looked up at Azriel who had stepped forward, concern etching his features. "Keep the training going, Az. I’m taking her to Madja, now," Cassian instructed firmly. His voice carrying the weight of his resolve.

Azriel nodded understanding the gravity of the situation and stepped back to allow Cassian to pass. Cassian, holding you securely, moved with purposeful speed towards the infirmary. His mind was racing with worry. The flight was quick. His powerful wings beating against the cool air of the evening, each stroke propelling you further away from the training grounds and closer to the healing hands of Madja.

As he flew you clung to him feeling the cool air against your face, which helped alleviate some of the dizziness. "I'm really okay, Cassian," you tried to assure him again, your voice soft, noticing the tension in his body, the way his jaw was set with worry. "It’s just a little cut, I think. I’m sure it’s already healed up."

Cassian only tightened his hold, a gesture of protective care. "We're not taking any chances," he said firmly. His tone brooking no argument. "You’re getting checked out, no arguments."

Suspended in the air, held securely in Cassian's embrace, you noticed the tension in his expression. His jaw set firmly as he navigated through the skies. Wanting to alleviate his concern and lighten the mood you looked up at him, your voice competing with the rush of the wind. "Okay, no arguing," you conceded with a soft, reassuring smile. "But how about an even less swordy day at training tomorrow?"

"You know, maybe we should consider taking a rest day tomorrow," Cassian suggested hesitantly. His voice carrying a protective tone. "Just to be sure you're fully recovered. It might not be wise to jump right back into training."

You looked up at him feeling the warmth of his care but also a spark of your own determination not to be sidelined by a small injury. "I appreciate your concern, Cassian, but really, I feel fine," you countered quickly. A hint of stubbornness in your tone. "A light day as planned with some tactical drills. Nothing too strenuous. I think it would be good for me. For you"

Cassian raised an eyebrow with a small smile breaking through as he sensed your resolve. "Oh, how quickly you've changed your tune, princess," he remarked with a playful smirk. The affectionate tease in his voice floated on the wind as he continued to fly, his grip around you reassuring and strong.

The brief exchange brought a light-heartedness to the moment and Cassian's smile broadened slightly appreciating your spirit and resilience. "Alright, tactical drills it is then. But at the first sign of any discomfort, we're taking a break," he conceded. His tone still carrying a hint of caution but softened by his growing trust in your judgment.

As you both neared the infirmary the flight through the crisp evening air felt less like a rush to aid and more like a shared journey back to stability. Cassian's initial hesitation faded, replaced by a quiet confidence in your resilience and a deepening sense of connection between you. The city of Velaris spread out beneath you, a silent witness to the bond that was strengthening with every beat of Cassian's wings and every word exchanged above the rooftops.

Landing smoothly at the infirmary Cassian carried you inside where Madja was already preparing her tools. Cassian gently laid you down on a cot as his hands lingered for a moment longer than necessary. His eyes were searching yours for any sign of further distress.

Madja quickly assessed the situation. She cleaned the wound and confirmed it was shallow. Though the blood loss and the shock had caused your faintness. "You'll be fine. Just a little rest and you’ll be up in no time," she reassured both you and Cassian, more so Cassian, who finally allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief.

You turn to Cass with a smirk playing on your lips. "See, told you so, General," you tease in an attempt to ease the palpable tension that had followed you from the training grounds.

Cassian's relief is immediate and visible. He lets out a deep breath, the tightness in his shoulders relaxing as he returns your smirk with a wry smile. "Fine, you were right. But let’s avoid making this a habit, shall we?"

Before you can respond the infirmary door swings open abruptly. Rhysand strides in, his expression a mixture of concern and command clearly having been summoned by Cassian’s urgent mental call. His eyes are wide as he quickly scans the room landing on you sitting relatively unscathed on the infirmary bed.

"Are you alright?" Rhysand asks. His voice tight with concern. He moves closer. His gaze flicking from you to Cassian, seeking an explanation.

You nod reassuring him with a calm smile. "I’m just fine, Rhys. Really, it was much less dramatic than it seems. Cassian has been worried enough for everyone," you say, glancing at Cassian with a playful raise of your eyebrows, signaling that all is truly well.

Rhysand's gaze softens though the lines of worry don’t completely disappear. "Cassian briefed me but seeing you well makes a world of difference. These training accidents... Well, they shouldn’t happen. We’ll review the protocols to ensure this is an isolated incident."

Turning to Cassian, Rhysand claps him on the shoulder. A gesture of support mixed with a mild reprimand. "Take care of her. Make sure she follows all of Madja’s instructions," Rhysand instructs, his leader’s tone resurfacing.

Cassian nods solemnly, "Understood. I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again."

With a final nod and a comforting smile directed at you Rhys exits the infirmary, his presence leaving as quickly as it arrived. The room feels lighter now, the earlier tension dissipating with the confirmations of your well-being.

Cassian stays by your side. His relief evident but his watchfulness remaining. "Now, about that 'less swordy' day tomorrow..." he begins, ready to shift back into the lighter, teasing dynamic that has marked your growing friendship. Grateful that the day’s scare has ended on a reassuring note.

As Cassian suggests a less physically demanding day focused more on magic you can’t help but giggle. A slight relief moving away from any activities involving bladed weapons. “That sounds perfect,” you agree with enthusiasm brightening your voice as you discuss potential exercises that would let you showcase and refine your control over ice magic without the physical strain.

As the conversation continues Cassian helps you up ensuring you’re stable on your feet and offers his arm for support as you begin the walk back to your quarters. The corridors of the Night Court feel quieter than usual. The soft echo of your steps mingling with the fading adrenaline of the day’s events. There’s a palpable shift between you and Cassian. A new layer of closeness brought on not just by the day’s scare but also by the accumulated time spent together over the past few weeks.

Cassian’s voice breaks the comfortable silence. His voice softer, more reflective than before. “I’ve really enjoyed these last few weeks with you,” he admits. His gaze fixed ahead. “You’ve taught me more than you’ll ever know.” His words hang in the air laden with a sincerity that draws your attention fully to his expression. It’s open, honest, and there’s a hint of vulnerability there that you hadn’t noticed before.

You look at him, touched by his confession, noticing the slight hesitance as if he wants to say more but is holding back. Maybe it’s the fear of crossing an unseen boundary or the uncertainty of your reaction that keeps him from continuing.

Encouraged by his openness you respond warmly, “And I’ve learned a lot from you, too, Cassian. Not just about fighting or training but about what it means to really care about your warriors, your friends.” You pause searching his face for a reaction. “It means a lot to me, all of this time we’ve spent together.”

Cassian’s eyes meet yours and there’s a moment of silent communication. A mutual understanding and appreciation that seems to deepen the bond between you. “I’m glad,” he finally says with his voice low. “I hope we can keep this going, no matter what the training schedule says.”

As you reach your quarters there’s a reluctance to part between the both of you. A desire to prolong the connection that has clearly grown beyond the confines of instructor and trainee. Cassian lingers at your door, his usual confidence tempered with a newfound tenderness.

“Get some rest princess,” he says softly before stepping back with a reluctant smile. “We’ll start fresh tomorrow. Less swordy, more... magical.”

You nod, smiling back at him, feeling a warmth that extends beyond the fading pain from your injury. “I look forward to it, Cassian. Thank you for everything today.”

He nods, then turns to leave, but not before throwing a look over his shoulder. It was a promise of more shared moments, more lessons, and perhaps, deeper revelations yet to come. The door closes softly behind you leaving you with a sense of anticipation for what the next day might bring, both in training and in your evolving relationship with Cassian.

After the incident at the training grounds and a night of rest you dive back into the treaty negotiations with renewed focus. As the talks commence you are at the forefront, your diplomatic skills shining as you navigate the complexities of the discussions. Your adept use of magic not only impresses but also serves as a poignant reminder of the Winter Court's strengths and capabilities. The treaty talks progress smoothly and a successful agreement begins to take shape much to the relief and satisfaction of all parties involved.

However, despite the importance of the negotiations and your central role in them your thoughts intermittently drift to Cassian. The memory of his concerned eyes, his protective stance, and the warmth of your conversation lingers with you, distracting you more than you'd like to admit. As you mentally rehearse your next points in the discussion, you find your mind replaying moments from the training sessions, his laughter, his teasing remarks, and his unexpectedly gentle care.

Unbeknownst to you, your mental shields—usually so meticulously maintained—begin to slip slightly amid your daydreams. Rhysand, who was not actively probing but is always somewhat attuned to the emotional and mental state of those around him, picks up on your wandering thoughts. He catches snippets of your internal musings about Cassian, not enough to grasp the full context but enough to piece together the gist of your distraction.

Throughout the meeting a knowing grin slowly forms on Rhysand's face, amused by the realization of your burgeoning feelings for his brother. He doesn't comment on it during the talks. Making sure to maintain his professionalism and focusing on the successful closure of the treaty. However, the little smile that occasionally plays at the corners of his mouth doesn't go unnoticed by those who know him well.

Later, as the meeting concludes with handshakes and a collective sigh of relief over the treaty's ratification. Rhysand pulls Cassian aside just before your evening training session. In a quiet corner away from prying ears Rhysand's grin broadens.

"I think someone has managed to catch more than just your training expertise," Rhysand teases as his eyes twinkled with mirth. "Our Winter Court princess seems to be a bit distracted by a certain general." As Rhysand delivers his playful revelation, Cassian's initial surprise quickly shifts to a broad, almost uncontrollable grin that spreads across his face. The sudden display of joy is uncharacteristic of the usually composed general, revealing just how deeply the news has affected him.

"Oh? And what makes you say that?" Cassian tries to maintain a semblance of composure, but his voice betrayed a hint of excitement beneath the casual façade.

Rhysand notices the change in Cassian's demeanor. The light in his eyes that hadn't been there moments before. "Well, let's just say that her thoughts were a little less guarded than usual," Rhysand replied. His voice laced with amusement. "She might be more interested in the person teaching her than just the lessons themselves."

Cassian's smile widens and he shakes his head slightly almost in disbelief but clearly delighted by the prospect. "Is that so?" he murmurs more to himself than to Rhysand, his mind already spinning with the implications.

Rhysand watches Cassian's bright grin, a knowing look crossing his face as he teases, "Seems like those training sessions are about more than just tactics and spells."

Cassian’s expression remains upbeat but a hint of seriousness creeps in. "They’re enlightening," he admits while giving a nod. "There’s something unique about her… beyond just her skills."

Sensing the depth in Cassian’s tone, Rhysand's demeanor shifts slightly, becoming more contemplative. "Just be careful, Cass. It’s easy to let your guard down when strong feelings are involved."

Cassian pauses as he felt a weight in Rhysand's caution. He looks at his brother, a silent plea for understanding without words. Rhysand, ever perceptive, senses the depth of Cassian’s feelings, realizing this might be more than just a fleeting fascination. "Cassian, do you think she could be…" Rhysand trails off leaving the implication hanging in the air, heavy with the weight of possibilities. His question is subtle, probing—asking if Cassian feels the deep, fated connection of a mate.

Cassian meets Rhysand's gaze with his own eyes reflecting a mix of hope and uncertainty. "I don’t know," he confesses softly. "But there’s something there. Something that feels… right. More than I've felt before."

Rhysand nods slowly as he processed this new revelation. His initial caution softens into a more supportive stance. "Then take it seriously but carefully. If this is what I think it might be, it’s not just significant for you but could be for the Night Court as well."

He places a hand on Cassian’s shoulder with a firm, reassuring grip. "Follow your heart but keep your head with you. She’s not just any visitor. She could and is likely to be much more."

As Rhysand walks away leaving Cassian to ponder the future the conversation not only cements Cassian's resolve but also clarifies the stakes. It’s a turning point. Marking a shift from casual interest to considering the profound potential of a deep, lifelong bond. Cassian feels empowered and cautious now acutely aware of the significant path that might be unfolding before him. This is no longer about training or simple affection. It could be the beginning of the rest of his life, your life.

As dusk settles over Velaris with the fading sunlight casting long shadows across the training grounds, Cassian awaits your arrival. His mind a jumbled swirl of thoughts from the earlier conversation with Rhysand. His anticipation is palpable, heightened by the significant discussions about feelings and futures that may be closer than he's admitted to himself.

During that first meeting in the dining hall his mind was a whirlwind of emotions. As he and Azriel entered mid-argument his initial focus was entirely on their spirited debate not the important dinner he was walking into. The sudden sight of you was an unexpected and striking presence. You brought a sharp halt to his thoughts.

Cassian was immediately struck by your poise and the quiet confidence with which you held yourself among such esteemed company. His first impression was of your elegance and the serene way you observed the dynamic entrance he and Azriel made. There was something about the way you carried yourself as a blend of strength and grace that captivated him instantly.

Embarrassment quickly flooded him with a blush creeping up his neck as he realized the discordant note their arrival struck in the otherwise serene setting. There you were, seated elegantly among the dignitaries of the Night Court with an aura of quiet confidence radiating from you. Despite the potentially disruptive entrance your expression remained unflustered. The slight, knowing smirk playing at the corners of your lips, and the amusement twinkling in your eyes spoke volumes. It was clear you were not only unfazed by the raucous disruption but also mildly entertained by it.

What struck Cassian more deeply was the way your attention seemed focused solely on him, as if the room and its other occupants had faded into the background. This singular focus, paired with the amused arch of your brow, left him feeling both exposed and intrigued. It was as if you could see right through to his typically hidden insecurities prompting a mix of vulnerability and a compelling desire to engage further.

Cassian felt a twinge of chagrin for not having presented a more composed entrance. Especially in front of someone who commanded such a presence as you did. The initial embarrassment, however, slowly morphed into a quiet determination. He was keenly aware that he had an opportunity to make a more meaningful second impression. One that could perhaps intrigue and draw you in just as you had captivated him from that first shared glance.

As he moved to regain his composure, smoothing back his hair, and adjusting his jacket, Cassian was already plotting how to transform this awkward beginning into an opening for deeper connection. The evening had just begun, and he was determined to show you a side of him that resonated with the depth and discernment he now saw reflected in your gaze.

When Rhysand later suggested that Cassian take the lead on your physical training, he seized the opportunity without hesitation. Training was his domain where he felt most in command and most himself. He anticipated that in the structure and discipline of physical training, among the straightforwardness of drills and exercises, there might be space for more informal interactions. For laughter and light conversations that could bridge the gap between formal dining hall introductions and a genuine connection.

Cassian saw each upcoming session as a canvas. As an opportunity to impress and engage you, not just with his skills but with his insights and his approach to teaching and leadership. Privately he knew he’d have to thank Rhysand for the suggestion—whether it was a calculated move or just a fortuitous throwaway idea, it had given him a golden opportunity to explore the potential that he sensed bubbling beneath your initial poised exterior.

He was intrigued, more so than he had been for a long time. The initial physical attraction was strong. Yet it was your demeanor, the intriguing mix of diplomacy and candor, that truly piqued his interest. Cassian left the dining hall that evening with his mind full of questions and curiosities about you. He was eager for the next opportunity to interact and perhaps to understand the compelling figure you were beyond just the surface.

From the memories of that first dinner to the present moment on the training grounds, Cassian's journey of understanding and admiration for you had woven through weeks of anticipation and subtle discoveries. Each interaction had added layers to his initial perception, enriching the image he held of you in his mind.

Then as if to punctuate his thoughts you appeared for the training session, garbed unmistakably in Illyrian warrior attire. Much different than the training leathers and Winter Court apparel he had grown used to see you in. The traditional leathers of his people clung to you, accentuating both strength and grace in your every move. The sight of you in such commanding attire sent a jolt through Cassian. His reaction visceral and immediate. His eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and admiration flashing across his face as he took in every detail—the way the leather fit you, how it moved with your body, and the undeniable air of confidence it brought to your demeanor.

The transformation was not just in your appearance but in the energy you exuded. Standing there you embodied the strength and resilience of an Illyrian warrior, qualities that resonated deeply with Cassian’s own identity. It struck him then how seamlessly you seemed to integrate into his world. How naturally you adopted its symbols and its strength. This was no longer just about training or sharing skills. It was a visual affirmation of your integration into his life and culture.

As he approached you his initial shock gave way to a profound respect. The way you carried the weight of the armor, the casual yet respectful nod you gave him as he walked up. These small actions spoke volumes. Cassian felt a renewed sense of connection. A deeper bond forming not just from shared interests and conversations but from seeing you embrace a part of his heritage with such ease and honor.

In that moment as he closed the distance between you, Cassian realized how deeply he was drawn to you, far beyond the physical allure. It was your spirit. Your willingness to step into his world, to don the armor of his people and stand ready to engage on equal footing. This realization brought a warmth to his chest and a smile to his lips. One that was both proud and welcoming.

As you stood before Cassian in the Illyrian warrior attire your presence was a striking blend of determination and slight apprehension. The soft evening light cast long shadows across the training grounds accentuating the quiet resolve in your posture. You were about to propose a change to the day’s lighter, planned routine. While confident in your suggestion there was a hint of nervousness tinged your voice, reflecting the care you took in challenging the agenda.

"Um, Cassian," you started, your voice carrying a cautious undertone, "I know we planned for a less sword-intensive session today..." You paused trying to gather your thoughts. But before you could continue your eyes met Cassian’s, their intensity like a direct challenge, causing a sudden vulnerability to flutter in your stomach. His gaze was penetrating, studying you with a warmth and focus that unnerved you. For a moment the confidence you felt started to waver under his scrutiny. The depth of his attention making you want to melt into a puddle right there on the training grounds.

However, drawing a deep breath, you summoned your resolve. Despite the shake in your confidence, you pressed on bolstered by the knowledge that this was an important step in your training. "I feel fine. But I've been thinking. I'm already quite familiar with my magic, and not as much with swordsmanship." Your voice grew slightly firmer as you continued, "Maybe, if it’s alright, we could incorporate more of that?" As you reached the end of your proposal a slight stammer betrayed your nervousness. "If you're okay with that, that is," you added with a nervous smile. Eager yet uncertain of his response.

Cassian, still somewhat in awe of your striking appearance and the commanding aura you exuded in the traditional leathers was momentarily taken aback. His response was on the tip of his tongue, an agreement forming, when Azriel quietly joined the duo. Observing the scene, Azriel noted your determined stance and Cassian’s admiring gaze. A knowing smirk crept onto Azriel’s face. "Looks like she’s going to give you a run for your money, brother," he teased unable to hide the amusement in his voice.

Cassian was caught between his brother's teasing and your challenging proposal but managed to regain his composure. He cleared his throat and stepped forward, his confidence rekindled by the familiar banter and the prospect of a spirited training session. "Alright then," he agreed with a nod. A smile breaking through as he embraced the challenge, "swords it is. Let’s see what you’ve got."

As the session progressed Azriel lingered on the sidelines, his eyes shifting between the clashing swords and Cassian’s animated instructions. Every now and then he couldn’t resist throwing in a light-hearted jab especially when it seemed like Cassian was particularly impressed by your quick learning curve or deft movements. "Careful, Cass, I think she might just outdo you in your own game," Azriel called out after a particularly skillful maneuver from you. His tone teasing but proud of you.

Cassian shot a mock-glare at Azriel, but his eyes sparkled with humor and something softer, an undeniable delight in your prowess and enthusiasm. Despite himself Cassian found that he enjoyed this, the mix of training intensity and the undercurrent of playful rivalry. Not just between him and you but with Azriel's involvement as well. It felt oddly, natural. You’d found a way to integrate yourself into the court within only a month of being in Velaris.

Throughout the training Cassian’s admiration for you only grew. Every block, every parry you performed with increasing confidence seemed to not only impress him but also deepen the sense of connection that he felt. This wasn’t just about teaching you how to handle a sword. It was about sharing a piece of his world, his passion, and seeing you embrace it with such fervor was both exhilarating and endearing.

As the sun dipped below the horizon Azriel’s teasing remarks faded into the background, replaced by a quiet acknowledgment of the shift he saw in Cassian. It was clear to him that his brother was, indeed, in trouble. But in the best possible way. Cassian's usually unshakeable demeanor was softer when he looked at you, filled with a mix of pride, respect, and a burgeoning affection that went beyond the confines of the training ring.

When the session finally wound down and the cool evening air settled around, both you and Cassian were catching your breath, reveling in the afterglow of intense physical exertion. It was then that Azriel, unable to resist the opportunity for a little brotherly teasing, stepped forward. Clapping Cassian on the back with a broad grin he couldn’t help but comment, "Well, that was quite a performance. And here I thought today was supposed to be less about swords."

Cassian, still a bit winded from the session, shot Azriel a quick, warning glance. But even he couldn’t hide the amused smile that tugged at his lips, indicative of his own acknowledgment of the shift in plans. Your puzzled look darted between the two brothers catching the tail end of their dynamic, your smile mirroring Cassian's albeit with a touch of confusion.

"Less swords, more magic, but I guess plans change when you're dressed for battle," you chimed in attempting to play off Azriel's comment, still somewhat oblivious to the deeper layers of teasing.

Azriel’s smirk widened as he observed the interplay, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Absolutely, plans do change. Especially when a certain someone decides to show up looking ready to join the ranks of Illyrian warriors," he teased you, turning his gaze back to Cassian with a sly expression. "Makes a general reconsider his strategies."

Caught in the moment, you shared the origin of your attire, a light chuckle escaping you. "Feyre absolutely insisted on me wearing the traditional leathers," you explained, your smile fond as you recalled Feyre's insistence. "I thought it was just for protection, given the training. She seemed really adamant about it."

Cassian’s expression softened at this with a brief smile acknowledging the hidden hand of Rhysand in this setup. Though he connected the dots, realizing his brother's likely involvement in Feyre's insistence, he chose to keep this revelation to himself. Instead, he simply nodded, appreciating your earnestness and perhaps, deep down, thankful for the unintended push it gave him to see you in a new light—strong, capable, and utterly captivating in Illyrian leathers.

As the training session drew to a close and the night deepened around them, the playful banter and shared laughter began to ebb. Azriel's remarks, though lighthearted, had hinted at the shift he observed in the dynamics between you and Cassian. A development that seemed to promise much more than just companionship in the future.

Recognizing the cooling air and the perfect, serene evening that enveloped Velaris, Cassian suggested a leisurely walk back through the city. "How about I walk you home tonight? It's a nice evening to cool down and stretch out after training," he proposed. His voice casual but with a hopeful undertone.

Azriel caught the subtle inflection in Cassian’s tone and simply couldn’t resist one more jab, his knowing smile broadening into a full-blown, mischievous grin. "Sure, take your time," he teased, his voice rich with implication. With a final chuckle and a wink at Cassian, Azriel spread his wings and took to the skies leaving you both to the quiet of the evening streets.

Cassian walked beside you there was a thoughtful distance in his initial steps. As if he was contemplating the right words or simply savoring the shared silence. Gradually, he drew closer, his presence a comforting constant at your side. The soft lighting from the streetlamps cast gentle shadows and the faint rustle of the leaves created a backdrop that enriched the moment with a quaint, almost magical quality.

Every now and then his hand would lightly touch your arm or guide you around an uneven patch on the cobblestones. Each contact sending a quiet thrill through you. Despite the casual nature of the walk there was an undercurrent of something deeper. A thread of anticipation weaving through the air between you.

"Same time tomorrow?" Cassian finally broke the silence. His voice a blend of softness and something undefinable yet unmistakably tender.

"Definitely," you replied with your smile genuine and wide. The connection you felt with Cassian was undeniable and while you might not fully grasp the depth of his feelings, the pull towards him was strong and only growing stronger with each passing day.

When you reached your quarters Cassian lingered for a moment, his demeanor protective and gentle. He seemed reluctant to part ways, but he was satisfied to know you were safe for the night. "Make sure you rest well tonight," he said with his hand resting briefly on your back, his smile warm and lingering as he wished you a good night.

Retreating to your room, the echoes of the evening replayed in your mind. The laughter, Azriel's teasing, the soft, serious timbre of Cassian's voice asking to see you again. There was an excitement brewing within you. An eagerness for what these sessions and these new feelings might lead to. It was an intriguing mix of anticipation and a bit of nervousness, stepping into this newfound connection with Cassian, but every instinct told you it was a path worth exploring. As you settled down with thoughts of the next day’s training, and more importantly, of seeing Cassian again, it filled you with a warm sense of expectation and a quiet joy.

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[yearning-for-autumn]

Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease do Eris x reader where the reader is chubby and Eris absolutely lives a thicc woman 🫶

(Just read your Eris series and omg you’re my new fav acotar fanfic author)

Little Black Dress

Summary - Eris hasn't been able to take his eyes off you all night, he decides he's had enough of watching...

Warnings - This is basically just smut

Pairings - Eris x Chubby!Reader

Word Count - 1,300

Eris licked his lips. That little black dress hugged every curve of your beautiful body. He was finding it incredibly difficult to focus on whatever Cassian was droning on about, although the general’s eyes were frequently wandering to his own mate.

You stood with Feyre and Vivienne, laughing at something, and sipping from a tall champagne flute. Eris’ mouth went dry at the thought of your tongue somewhere else.

“And then, I was banished from the Summer Court.” Cassian finished, “Can you believe that!”

Eris blamed you entirely for his current situation. You were Feyre’s friend before you were his mate, living in Velaris after the war as an artist. After your mother fell ill, you had moved back to the Autumn Court, where you had met Eris, and the mating bond snapped.

You were smiling to yourself, completely aware of your mates gaze roaming your body and getting frequently stuck on your breasts. Looking up at Eris from under your eyelashes, you sipped your champagne knowingly. He knew he was being obvious with his staring, but who could blame him when you looked that good.

“Yeah, yeah that’s unbelievable.” He said, waving Cassian off. Whilst you wanted him to make an effort to befriend your Night Court friends, he still didn’t like them.

A male from the winter court offered you his hand, and with a wink in Eris’ direction you took it. His hands balled into fists.

The Winter Court male was a good dancer, he led you across the floor in a graceful waltz. He wasn’t as good as Eris. In one move he had unlaced the males hand from yours and replaced it with his own, pushing him to the side with his shoulder so that he was now leading you around the ballroom without missing a beat. You smiled up at him with a playful roll of your eyes.

“Eris, he was being polite.” You said, humour dancing in your voice. Eris huffed.

“You’re mine.” He said simply. “No one else gets to have you, to dance with you,” He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “To ravish you.”

You giggled, music to his ears and he leaned down to kiss your soft neck. Your tits teased him from this angle, pushed up by your dress they looked even more tempting than usual. His breath was hot against your skin.

“I’m taking you home.” He announced, giving you just a moment to gasp as he pulled you towards him and winnowed you away.

As soon as you got home, Eris pushed you down onto the bed and took you in. Cauldron you looked good enough to eat. Your thick thighs were parted slightly, hands resting on the curve of your stomach. At the beginning of your relationship you had doubted, only for a moment, that someone like Eris would want a girl like you. You doubted nothing now. Not with the way his eyes roamed your plush body.

Eris liked big girls, and he fucking loved you.

“Eris, stop staring and do something about it.” You complained, “You know, I was actually enjoying that ball, you better have something good planned.”

“Oh, trust me, what I have planned for you is much better.” He promised.

He tapped your thigh, and you rolled over onto your stomach, presenting your ass. You arched your back slightly and Eris growled low in his throat. His hands kneaded your ass gently as he shifted you just where he wanted you. You had no warning before he pushed your panties to the side and swiped his fingers through your wetness.

He paused to dip his own fingers past his lips, sucking your juices from his fingers, eyes rolling back at the taste of you.

“Fucking soaked for me.”

You let out a breathy moan, unable to drag your eyes from him as he bowed his head and drank you straight from the source. Heat engulfed your core, legs shaking as you tried to keep from clenching around his head and burying him in your pussy. It was becoming increasingly hard as he growled into you, lapping at your wetness and sucking hungrily at your clit. Pressure was building at the base of your spine, white hot heat lapping at your stomach with every pass of his skillful tongue. Whining, you pulled on his hair, trying to pull him back, to pull him up your body and have him fuck you, but the tight pain in his scalp only wrenched a deep groan from his chest and urged him on.

“Eris, Eris,” You panted, “Please, fuck me, please.”

You knew you were babbling, but his relentless tongue was hindering your ability to think straight. He had scrambled your brain. With a devilish smile, he relinquished his feasting and drew himself up to kiss you, gentler than you were expecting. You frowned,

“I want you to ride me, sweetheart.” He said. A low moan escaped you as your pussy clenched hard around nothing, begging to be filled. You squirmed under him, and he ducked his head, sucking a mark into your neck, grazing his sharp teeth against the tender spot just under your ear. The throbbing in your core only intensified.

“Come on sweetheart,” He huffed in your ear, hips grinding against yours as he lost the last few shreds of his self control, “I need to be inside you. Baby. Come on.”

He rolled off of you, propping himself up slightly against the pillows. Pulling his pants off, he patted his naked thighs, and you crawled over him, sitting down gingerly on his legs and rocking your clothed heat against him absent-mindedly. He tore your panties down the sides and chucked them over the side of the bed, ignoring your rolling eyes as you whined at the contact of your wetness with his throbbing cock. You made to unlace your dress, but his hands over yours stopped you.

“No, you look—” He broke off with a moan as you dragged your hips down over his hardness, “Fuck, I want you to fucking ride me in that dress, sweetheart. Show me how you fuck yourself on me.”

You took his cock in your hands and eased yourself onto him, letting out a low, ragged moan as he filled you, every nerve on fire as you clenched around him greedily. Eris watched with hungry eyes as you bounced with abandon in his lap, your tits right in front of his face. He pulled your dress down to latch onto your nipple, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin, sending sparks down your spine to your tightening core, heat pooling low in your stomach. You moaned unabashedly, not caring about any guards that might be passing in the hallway, and Eris bit down harder.

Pushing him back, you pulled your dress down further so that your tits spilled free, bouncing in time with your body as you dropped yourself down hard onto Eris cock. His hands came to knead the swell of your thighs, fingers close to leaving bruises. You panted, the tightness in your core becoming almost unbearable. You needed to come. Needed Eris to come deep inside of you. But the precipice was just out of reach. Whining, you rocked forwards, grinding down and trying to find some pressure on your sensitive clit. Eris growled, reaching down and circling your clit with a teasing finger.

“You look so pretty baby,” He said, voice strained with pleasure, “Come for me, come on my cock.”

“Need you,” You breathed out, “Need you harder, Eris.”

Eris was lavishing attention on your swollen clit with one hand, and the other tightened around your plump waist, taking the opportunity to massage the softness of your skin before pulling you down hard, bucking his hips up furiously as he brought you closer and closer. You moaned impossibly louder, hands raking down his chest, pulling on his hair. He whimpered, and the helpless sound pushed you over the edge. Your hands tightened against his scalp as you came with a scream, clenching rhythmically around him. Eris followed quickly after, burying his face between your tits.

You eased yourself off of him, and curled up into his side, kissing his shoulder. He smiled, a dreamy and fucked out look in his eyes.

“I’m so glad you wore that dress.”

A/N - I hope you enjoyed and I hope I did your request justice!! Also I got a new divider thing from @saradika-graphics !! Doesn't it look amazing!!

[lovemyromance]

SJM: I thought it was obvious??

AKA - No analysis needed. The clues are there. Things are already happening.

Please keep your 80 page PowerPoints and highlighted words from your “8 books of canon” (none of which are actually from ACOTAR, btw) to yourself.

“I thought it was obvious” = no deep dives needed. No extrapolation or analysis necessary. The words are already on the page. You don’t have to work harder than SJM to come up with your own theories (*cough* see HOFAS crazy hype theories vs actual book)

“I thought it was obvious”

The ONLY couple currently mutually attracted to each other is Elriel. They have had moments since ACOMF. ACOSF did not end them, it gave them the setup for the next book. They are set up for the greatest tortured forbidden romance of the series, how can you dispute that? Why would you WANT to dispute that love story? I don’t want ACOSF 2.0 which was all physical and no substance. I want an angsty, slow forbidden romance. I want to fall in love when the characters fall in love. Elriel will give us that.

“I thought it was obvious”

The other ships do NOT exist on the page at the moment. Elucien, I will give credit to because they are still mates so that COULD happen still. But right now, where ACOSF ended, they had barely even seen each other in a year. The only romantic coded interactions have been between Azriel & Elain thus far.

“I thought it was obvious”

Elucien & Gw*riel have not shared any romantic moments. There is no romance between them at this current time in the series. I am not talking about “what could happen” or “what could Sarah be setting up” because she said it was obvious. That means it’s there already. There’s no reason to hypothesize and theorize about ships that don’t currently exist in the book. Because - and say it with me-

“I thought it was obvious”

What is obvious about elucien? Other than the fact that they are mates. That’s it. That’s all they have. Not even a conversation on the page. Not even a shared shy glance or brush of their fingers. It’s the equivalent of an arranged marriage neither of them seems to want. Analyzing 20 sentences about flowers and sunlight, going out of your way to prove feyre is an “unreliable” narrator when she questions the bond (but Cassian, fashion police of Velaris, is a very very reliable narrator)-Why? Is any of that obvious to the casual reader? No.

“I thought it was obvious”

I’m not even going to spend many words talking about Gw*nriel, as I don’t see it as anything more than a crackship. They have like 4 platonic interactions. Friendly. Banter, sure. But not all banter is a clue that people are predestined soulmates. Most people who read their interactions are not going to overanalyze spark and glow and shadow behavior. They shouldn’t have to because - again - none of that is obvious.

“I thought it was obvious”

Shy glances and subtle scenes in the background wasn’t enough for those who claim to be reading experts. So SJM released a bonus chapter where in clear black and white text, you see both Azriel and Elain desperate for each other. This man is willing to BEG on his knees for a taste of her/ the end. Why would you even want him with anyone else after that?

“I thought it was obvious”

All these characters I’ve mentioned have been supporting characters this entire series. Nothing concerning them is going to happen in someone else’s book-but the seeds have been sewn. Any scene with Elain could have been written with Lucien or her sisters instead of Azriel - but it wasn’t.

Ex: when majda says, “if anyone can figure out what’s wrong, it’s a mate”

Lucien is THERE. Feyre is THERE. Nesta is THERE. But who figures it out - not her mate, nor her sisters - Azriel.

Lucien could’ve shown her the garden, feyre could’ve sat with her and listened to Elain’s garden plans till 3am - but no - it was Azriel.

And this man is the only one in the NC I’m convinced that has an actual job and responsibilities. So he is choosing to spend what little free time he has with ELAIN. What’s not clicking, folks?

“I thought it was obvious”

Sarah-we love her-but she is Queen of cliches. Her writing is not some insane thriller level that has you gasping every page turn. She likes threes, she likes happy endings, she likes her male LIs desperate for their female counterparts. The answer to Amarantha’s riddle was LOVE. CC had “through love all is possible”.

You really think she wrote the line “hoped love would trump even a mating bond” and it meant nothing?

SJM doesn’t do anything easy. But she said it was obvious- because it IS.

[a-court-of-lust-and-stardust]

*taps microphone* Is this thing on?

I'd like to give my perspective on something, from someone who started out in the ACOTAR fandom as part of the general audience, and who has a sister that is not apart of fandom but has read the books.

I read the series back in November 2023 in about 2 weeks. I stayed off of social media for a bit until I decided to make a Tumblr account.

After reading the books, I wasn't sure if the series was complete. It didn't feel complete. The first three books focused on Feyre. Nesta had an entire, almost 800 page book dedicated to her. For me, it was natural to assume, "Oh, Elain is next!" because logically, that was the only thing that made sense. Why would two sisters have books, but the third wouldn't? The series would seem incomplete.

Flash forward, and I find out that yes, there will be more to come in the series. However, at this point, I was still unaware that a bonus chapter for Silver Flames existed until a friend casually mentioned it. I asked where to find it and I began reading.

The first part of the bonus chapter confirmed what I already believed from reading the books. Azriel and Elain share mutual feelings. Truly, I didn't need confirmation in the bonus, because there were moments in the books that I already had picked up on. The bonus was just a nice surprise. Something fun.

But imagine my shock when I decided to insert myself into fandom space as a casual reader, and see folks who are 110% convinced that the next book's main character is going to be a secondary side character that was introduced about 40% of the way into the 4th book.

You don't have to imagine my shock, because I'll tell you. The moment I set foot into this fandom, I have been beyond confused. Bamboozled. Befuddled. And honestly, a bit gaslit.

Prior to this bonus chapter, I assumed everyone thought it was obvious and picked up on the pattern. The first sister gets a few books to explore her powers, heal, and fall in love. The second sister gets a book to do the exact same thing. The third sister would get a book...to do the exact. same. thing.

There was a week where I had zero idea that the bonus chapter existed. There are STILL people who have no idea that the bonus chapter exists, and may never end up reading it. These people are not on Tumblr, Reddit, Instagram, or Discord, discussing in depth theories and potential love squares. They are solely relying on canon text.

So, genuinely, what do you think their reactions are going to be, if the next book does not focus on Elain, the third sister, but rather a priestess, who was part of someone else's story, who was only just introduced in the very last book, who does not have any ties to the plot? Yes. They will be lost, too.

My sister, who is part of the general audience, and is not present in fandom spaces, has the same opinion. The idea of Azriel and Elain not ending up together doesn't make sense to her. Prior to showing her the bonus, she had already assumed Azriel and Elain would be the next pairing in the next series. Because she had only read the canon text. The canon text that is available to everyone. The bonus is not.

So, essentially, what I'm trying to say is, if the next book does not feature Elain as the main character, and Azriel as the main love interest, with sprinkles of Lucien here and there because he is still important because of the mating bond, then there will be a gigantic chunk of casual readers, who are not involved in fandom spaces, that will be utterly confused at the direction of the story. Because for people who are not on social media, they are only using the canon books. Their information is only coming from the canon books that are available for all readers. If information in bonus chapters is supposed to be important, then it would be featured in books for everyone to read.

[lotus222]

I have a theory…

Everyone is up and arms about the elriel v. gwynriel debate so if you get easily triggered about those ships pls avert your eyes cause I’m gonna be unapologetically brutal.

I just finished reading CC2 (ik I’m behind) and it opened my eyes to something SJM has been saying since the beginning.

Now, while reading this massive book, I had a continuing foreboding feeling that Hunt was going to be replaced by Ithan as Bryce’s love interest. Bc as we know SJM always switches up the MMC after one book or so, so I was scurred. BUT

I was pleasantly surprised to see that SJM did all in her power to reinforce the idea that these two are endgame, by having Bryce CHOOSE Hunt and vice versa — going against her arranged marriage, the royal lineage requirements, and the added complexity of mates for fae, angels, and wolves

It was refreshing to see Bryce and Hunt come together out of true love as opposed to SJM’s usual trope of “oh they were destined so they have to be together”. Don’t get me wrong, I love her other couples too - but Bryce and Hunt have always been my favs bc of this fact.

Then, imagine my surprise when I see that Bryce and Hunt CHOOSE to be mates. Simply bc the title bf & gf didn’t work for them. THEN, they’re revealed to be true mates, and their love for one another simply forged this unbreakable bond where now they have the same strength (if not stronger) then preordained mates.

Here’s where the ACOTAR ships come in…

Now…i don’t care who mrs Maas decides to put together. I have loved every single couple she has produced so ik I’ll love the next inner circle couple. BUT ik in my heart of hearts and based off of common sense that it’s going to be Elain + Azriel

(Also pls keep in mind that the ACOTAR fae are the ancestors of the CC fae, which means whatever Bryce and Hunt can feel/do/etc, first originated or was discovered in the ACOTAR world) which means this true mates thing that Bryce and Hunt have can have originated with Az & Elain

CC3 takes place after ACOSF, where we all know there are things needing to be addressed. Bryce wakes up on the lawn of the townhouse where Az is and there’s fresh bread & roses in the air…then everyone else arrives later. Meaning Az was at the townhouse by himself…with the bread & roses (Elain).

Some of y’all might think that’s a stretch or irrelevant, but I think it’s fully intentional that SJM put CC3 before the next ACOTAR book. It’s bc everyone in the ACOTAR world up until this point has followed the rules of “be with your mate and love them”, but now Bryce is there as a clear example of having a mate not chosen by some stupid bowl, but by herself and her heart. Which is something I think will strike a chord with Elain and Azriel.

Az has NEVER been chosen, and I don’t think (even if gwyn is his mate or his backup singer or whatever y’all are calling her now) he will be satisfied by someone being thrown to him, forced to love him bc of a bond. He wants them to choose to love him like his dad and Mor didn’t (sry Mor stans but she didn’t, she admitted so herself in ACOWAR)

Rhys (sry cause I also dislike him after ACOSF) is just like Bryce’s bio dad and is trying to place a barrier between the couple in the name of politics and what is usually done, but just like Bryce (I.E. WHY THERE IS A BONUS CHAPTER W HER, AZ, AND NES (THE ONLY 2 (-Rhys) WHO WILL KNOW ABOUT AZ’s FEELINGS)) Az/Elain will choose to divert that standard, motivated by the love Bryce expresses for her chosen mate, Hunt.

Plus, can I mention y’all also acted this way with Cass met Emery at the end of ACOFAS…and thought they were gonna be together before ACOSF came out and now y’all are doing the same to Gwyn. I personally think Gwyn has been traumatized beyond belief by men, and I don’t think what she needs in her life to heal from that is the man that saved her from that trauma. She doesn’t need to be saved or reminded of that time in her life anymore. Like, girl could still not bring herself to leave the house of wind at the end of ACOSF. Idk about y’all but I wouldn’t fall in love with the cop who saved me from that kind of crime, I’d move on and find love for myself.

No matter if you’re a gwynriel stan or not, we can all agree that the kiss at the end of ACOSF cannot be ignored, and this relationship between Az and Elain has been building up for THREE BOOKS. Gwyn has only been here for one. Take it from me my lovely gwynriels, and be prepared for disappointment.

NOW, where does Lucien fit in all of this? I think Lucien takes the same stance as Ithan from CC. Elain doesn’t know the sassy, caring Lucien we know bc the only interactions she’s had with him were when he sold her out to Hybern (mind you: when she was ENGAGED) and when he’s been around her bc he felt this need due to a mating bond. It’s fair that she doesn’t love him, just like it’s fair that Bryce doesn’t love Ithan. Just because there’s a bond, in whatever form, doesn’t mean that entitles another to that female’s love.

Lucien deserves someone who wants to be with him and as a fan of his character, too, I don’t want him stuck with Elain. Especially when she’s made it so clear she doesn’t want him. I think Lucien accepting Elain going with Azriel will lead him back to the Spring Court (cause it’ll still hurt, and he’ll need space) and give y’all that Tamlin redemption arc you’ve been dying for for some reason.

Either way, the answer of who is Az’s mate is a big topic, so I think SJM doing the same thing with him that she did with Bryce and Hunt in CC2 would be so bomb. Plus, she’s always said that the books she writes will be with the female at the forefront, so sry babes, there’s no Azriel book.

So book 5/6 (incl ACOFAS) in the ACOTAR world will be Elriel, then it’ll be Morr/all of the couples, and the novella will probably be Spring Court (i.e., Vaasa/Tamlin/Lucien). Don’t quote me on anything past the next ACOTAR book, I’m just guessing on those

Anyway, that’s how I think it’s going to go but I’m not the author or anything, so take this as you will

[acourtofthought]

It doesn't bother you that Lucien is friends with the man who joked about his mate getting raped? Interesting take....

I want you to do something for me since you decided to come to my page and ask for MY opinion.

I want you to set aside your own personal agenda and really think about what I'm saying.

I get it, we all have lived different lives and are triggered by different things. In real life, SA is not a joking matter, it's not appropriate, it's not something to giggle about between friends. I never returned to a job the day after a boss corned me and inappropriately touched me and I felt too uncomfortable to speak up since he owned the company. I was inappropriately touched by a neighbor when I was around 9 years old, someone who allowed me to stop by and play with his two dogs since I loved pets so much. I consider myself lucky because neither scenario escalated to what others have dealt with but those scenarios still give me enough empathy to realize the fear of being put in a position where you feel helpless against someone bigger, stronger and who holds power over you.

But the ACOTAR series is not what happened to me or anyone else no matter how many parallels or connections some find. It's fantasy fiction and in fantasy fiction (whether you agree with it or not), things that are serious in the real world are never given the same weight as in the book. Take murder, torture, and using others as pawns for example. These things are done by the main cast of character and nobody bats an eye. In fact, the fandom applauds them for it, turns them into sex symbols for it. Azriel literally tortures people yet many are more interested in the size of his wingspan than the things he's done to people who are unarmed in his torture room. Since Jurian's comments are so offensive and unforgivable, how are you comfortable thinking torture is something it's ok for the fandom to turn a blind eye to when it's a hotly debated issue in the real world as it relates to torture of POWs? Since you're sending me this anon I have to take a guess and say you're an e/riel and that means you're fine with torture in books but not fine with SA comments in books though both exist in real life.

Onto your specific question though, how am I fine with Lucien being friends with Jurian after he made those comments.

Simply put, because I'm reading the story the author is telling. Your reading experience seems vastly different from mine because I'm choosing to read the story as it's actually being told whereas you seem to be reading the story you wish was being told based on very specific things that are personal to you.

If I was basing my reading experience on real life morals and things that personally effect me then I could have never gotten behind the Feysand relationship because Rhys did some pretty horrible things to Feyre UTM. He forced her to drink wine she didn't ask for, he put her in clothes she was was uncomfortable wearing, he forced her (while she was drunk) to dance in his lap in a way she was embarrassed to hear about and he coerced her into a bargain she clearly didn't want, going so far as to twist the bone in her arm to force her to agree.

But I'm not basing my reading experience on real world morals, I'm allowing myself to let Sarah take the reins. I'm allowing an author to lead me so I understand what they're telling me (so long as I'm losing myself in this fantasy world) , to shape my mind, to rewrite the rules. The second I step away from my book I am once again a law abiding citizen of this world who understands right and wrong but in the ACOTAR world? I'm just a spectator along for the ride. I forgave Rhys because Sarah wanted me to forgive him, because her explanations were to serve the reasons for his actions.

"Just because Sarah forgave Rhys doesn't mean we have to listen!"

If you've already decided that she's wrong, that you don't have to agree, then you're no longer reading the book as it was intended to be read. And that's fine, feel free to hate on it as much as you want, but it doesn't change the story she's telling. Your personal opinion DOES NOT CHANGE WHAT'S HAPPENING.

It's the same with Jurian. He said / did bad things, we thought he was a villain (just as we did Rhys) until Sarah told us he wasn't. Until the author said, "this is my story and this is the reason for his actions and now he's a good guy strongly connected to the plot and the other good guys in the series". You can feel free to remain stuck in the past, unable to move forward with the series but that's not why I'm here. I want to know the story Sarah is telling, not what nameless faceless person decides I should have an issue with because they have an issue with it. If the author moved forward and the characters no longer have a problem with something that happened way back when then what good is it doing me to remain stuck in past plots? The plot moved forward therefore I move forward. It's honestly as simple as that.

I don't use the ACOTAR novel to teach me how to behave in real life. I use the ACOTAR novel to teach me what is happening with these characters. Therefore when said ACOTAR novel says "Jurian good" I'm going to accept that because that's the journey we're going on. I'm not sure why you take such issue with a reader simply following along with the story that's being told, isn't that the entire point of reading fictional books?

[pricklepearbloom]

Hey I've love love loved your acotar fics and was wondering if you could do like a jealousy fic with az like he's being completely irrational about the amount of time your spending with one of his brothers but you only love him and he goes to elain for comfort but it ends in fluff after a big argument because as we know he struggles to regulate/show his emotions thanksss

-🥒

a/n: hey loveee I hope this is something along the lines of what you wanted! I've never done an ask before (omg first!!) If anyone else has any request, don't be afraid to slide into my inbox bb.

All I Want

Pairing: Azriel x OC (Ruby)

Warnings: just some good old-fashioned angst, not beta read

Word count: 3.5K

As the morning sunlight gently filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room, Ruby found herself in a cocoon of comfort, wrapped in the tender embrace of the love of her life, her sweet mate Azriel. The soft rhythm of his breathing and his heart synchronized with hers in a sweet lullaby. In the mornings, it felt like the world outside the haven of their bedroom seemed to pause before the chaos of the day began. Gods she loved weekends, nothing to do but relax and stay cozy Ruby mused as she cuddled in further into her mate’s strong chest.

He pulled her closer as he began to wake placing a soft kiss on her head, practically shoving his nose into her hair to drown in the scent of her shampoo. “Mmm what time is it?” Ruby lightly rasped out, voice rough from disuse. “Who cares, I intend to stay right here all day.” Azriel replied as he gave her a small squeeze, running a thumb lightly along the small of her back. Ruby smiled softly letting her brain imagine spending all day in bed.

Shoot. She couldn’t spend all day in bed. Ruby’s eyes shot open and she sat up at breakneck speed. Azriel scrunched his brows and followed her up to a sitting position. “Is everything alright? Hey, wait where are you going?” He calls as Ruby jumps out of bed throwing on her dressing robe running into the bathroom.

“I’m sorry! I totally forgot I promised Cassian that I would meet with him today.” Ruby said her voice muddled from speaking with her toothbrush in her mouth. Azriel felt his stomach drop a bit, he had been looking forward to spending time with her today. Rhys had been piling more and more work on his plate and he promised he wouldn’t intervene today. “But wai-“ he tried to get out “I’m sorry I’m running terribly late I can’t believe I forgot, he’s going to kill me.”

Azriel took a deep breath as he watched her run around their bedroom putting on undergarments then picking up and smelling and pair of pants, making a face and putting it back down before repeating the process until she had found one that suited whatever clearly questionable requirements she had for clean laundry.

“I’ll be back later okay?” Ruby glanced up from pulling her shoes on her feet and saw the slightly lost look on Azriel’s face as he was still sitting upright in bed, mouth slightly ajar. She felt a kernel of guilt tighten in her stomach. “I can cancel if you want. I’m sorry I forgot to mention it, Cassian asked me to help him pick out an anniversary present for Nesta and you know him, he’s useless at that kind of stuff.”

Her eyes softened and she crawled back on the bed placing a soft kiss on Azriel’s sharp jawline that seemed clenched before immediately relaxing after feeling her soft lips on his face. “But if you want, I can absolutely cancel, and we can stay in bed and spend the day together?” He shook his head lightly, “no, it’s fine. You should go. Someone needs to stop him from buying her an engraved horse saddle.” He sighed “I’ll just miss you; will you be back later? Maybe we can make hot cocoa and read together?”

A fond smile came to Ruby’s lips at the idea. “That sounds lovely darling. I think I should be back just after lunch; I’ll see if we can stop by the bakery to get some of those pastries that you love.” She scooted off of the bed before leaning back in for one last kiss. Azriel wanted to make it count, his hand gently caressed her jaw and neck, thumb swiping back and forth along her cheek as he firmly planted a deep kiss that sent Ruby reeling. Azriel’s kisses were always filled with passion and love, they were like a drug to her, she could never get enough. Azriel was the first to pull away, a small smirk on his face seeing her eyes still shut spinning from his kiss. Still got it, he thought to himself smugly. “I love you.” She said softly before practically prancing out of the room, taking Azriel’s heart with her.

That was only the beginning, it seemed. Azriel noticed that Ruby seemed to be spending a lot of time with Cassian. Rationally he knew that nothing would ever happen between them, but his feelings didn’t seem to care much for rationality when Ruby was concerned. His anxiety rose higher and higher as the weeks passed on, holding it all in until one day, after coming home from a long and hard mission, he came to his breaking point.

Muscles aching from a mission, Azriel landed on the balcony of the Townhouse to see Rhys. Meetings with Rhys could take either five minutes or an hour and he had a feeling that this particular meeting was going to be on the longer side. He mentally groaned, his entire body was practically screaming at him to return to his home and wrap his arms around his warm, soft, loving mate. Ignoring the buzz that’s ever present when he thinks about Ruby, he steps off of the balcony and opens the glass door and is met with a rush of warm air and the comforting scent of his home and- is… is that his mate?

His pupils immediately dilated, and his pace picked up tenfold. He swiftly moved through the house following her unmistakable scent, his ears perking up at the sound of her laughter. His ears picked up a low rumble that distinctly did not sound like his mate. His hackles immediately rose as he rounded the corner to see Ruby and Cassian sitting side by side on the couch. He was operating on fumes and all his mind saw at that moment was the love of his life with a man that was not him and all. he. saw. was. red.

“What is this.” His voice cut through the warm atmosphere like his truth teller on a mission. Ruby’s eyes snapped up to meet his and lit up with excitement “Az!” Jumping up off of the couch to greet him. She took in his tight expression and lowered her arms that were barely raised to embrace him.

“What’s wrong?” She said cautiously taking a step toward him “Oh, not much. Just came here to debrief before going home after a very long day to see my faithful, loving mate. Only come to find her here with my brother.” Ruby’s eyebrows scrunched shocked while Cassian’s rose to his forehead “Azriel. You’re out of line.” Cassian said slowly rising from his seat on the couch with a confused expression on his face.

Cassian’s defense only served to anger Azriel even more. Obviously if he was being defensive that meant that something was going on. Ruby had been spending an obscene amount of time with Cassian, something more had to be going on. “Am I? Please, Cassian, tell me why you’re spending your night with my mate when you have your own to attend to? Or is she not enough for you anymore that you had to take what was mine as well.” Azriel practically spat out, his shadows lashing out from his body reacting to his heightened emotions.

Cassian’s eyes darkened at the slight against Nesta. “Don’t speak a word about my mate. She is and will always be enough for me. What is going on with you? This isn’t like you at all.” And he was right, the emotions that were roiling through Azriel didn’t feel like him at all. Usually, he would be ecstatic to see his mate and his brother getting along so well. When they first met, Ruby had some issues with feeling welcome into the inner circle. They were a tight nit group, and she was easily overwhelmed by the depth that each of them knew each other, it often felt like she would never find her place beyond being Azriel’s mate.

“Cass do you mind giving us the room for a minute?” Ruby said gently, not letting her eyes leave Azriel’s. Once the war general gave a tense nod and slipped through the doorway to give the couple some privacy, Ruby took another step toward Azriel. “Az,” Ruby said hesitantly “I promise nothing was going on, Cassian and I were just catching up. Why don’t you take a seat, and we can talk about whatever’s going through your head?” A wave of embarrassment flooded through Azriel, but he shrugged it off, choosing to shut down instead. “Unfortunately, I need to meet with Rhys to debrief. I’ll meet you at home.” Ruby’s eyes sharpened at his harsh tone. “Fine. But don’t come back until you figured out what the hell is going on with you and you’re ready to talk.” Azriel didn’t bother to acknowledge her as he strode out of the room headed for Rhys’ office.

Following the fight, Ruby went home and sat and waited for Azriel to come back. She reflected on their little spat and agonized over every word. What could she had said differently? It pained her that her mate was hurting and that he wouldn’t let her help. When he comes home, she thought, we’ll sit here and talk about whatever is going on with him and then we’ll move forward from there. That’s all we can do.

But minutes turned to hours and Ruby still sat on the couch. A debrief had never gone on this long before and Ruby was sure that he was probably just taking some time to cool off. She didn’t move from her spot on the couch as the day turned to night and somewhere in the late hours of the night, she fell asleep on the couch, still waiting.

A door shutting woke Ruby from her slumber, her neck aching with the pain of being held in the wrong position for too long. Ruby reached up, trying to rub the ache away her eyes locking onto the dark figure standing in the archway that leads to their living area. “Hi.” Azriel said hoarsely “What time is it?” Ruby said her gaze peering out of the window seeing the light peek through the linen curtains they had picked out together “Did you just get home?” Azriel nodded unable to meet her eyes. “W-Where have you been? Why didn’t you come home last night? I waited up all night for you.” Ruby said standing from her place on the couch, leaving the imprint of her body on the couch from hours of use.

“I stayed with Elain for the night.” Ruby’s heart sunk through the floor. It was no secret that there was bad blood between the two. Azriel and Elain had an attachment of sorts until Ruby came into the picture and Elain made it very clear that she was not a fan of Ruby. She was constantly spouting vitriol about Ruby while she was still new to the inner circle, never in ear shot of Azriel of course. Eventually, Ruby made her discomfort known to Azriel and he had put distance between himself and Elain. His interest in her had been waning for some time and when Ruby came into his life, he didn’t give the Archeron sister another thought. His heart and mind set on the kind and strong female that the cauldron had blessed him with.

“Why?” Ruby’s rasped through a tight throat, thick with emotion. “Did you- Azriel did you cheat on me?” Her eyes welled up with tears as she stared at him incredulously, a sharp pain shot through her chest at the idea.

“No, no. I would never do that to you Ruby. I just...” he paused dropping his gaze to the floor. “I wanted you to feel how it felt when I saw you with Cassian.” Now that the words had left his mouth, he wished he could take them back. He wished he could shove them into a box and never let them see the light of day again because the look on Ruby’s face, it was enough to make him want to take truth teller and shove it into his gut until he bled out at her feet.

“You- you went to Elain’s to get back at me?” she said hoping that her ears had been lying to her and she didn’t hear that her mate had done something so… so spiteful. She had been trying to hold them back but once the first tear came it was like opening the floodgates. Azriel took a step forward reaching out to brush them away and to comfort her but she matched his step, taking one backward, flinching away from his hand. “I think I need some space.” She stepped past the couch that she had been sitting at all night waiting for him to come home so they could make up, but he was with her.

Azriel lightly grabbed her wrist as she passed him intending to head quickly toward the stairs that led to their bedroom. “Ruby, please. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” Ruby jerked her arm out of his grasp spinning around on him. “Really? You weren’t thinking for the entire night? I find that incredibly hard to believe Azriel. Leave me alone.” She practically ran up the stairs and slammed the door shut, locking it swiftly. She practically collapses into sobs on their bed, her tears staining the pillows still made and fluffed from yesterday morning.

Azriel’s heart shattered into pieces as he tried the door handle, finding himself locked out of his bedroom, unable to console and comfort his mate who he betrayed. He felt like beyond an idiot. What was he thinking? Going to Elain of all people? After his meeting with Rhys, he felt his emotions pulling himself in a million directions. He ran into her in the kitchen, fully intending on going home to sort things out with his mate, she saw the look in his eyes and offered an ear and some tea. A dark part in Azriel thought well if his mate was going to talk to another male then he could talk to another female. A large part of his heart ached to be with Ruby, but mess of his feelings kept him seated. They sat there all night talking and the next thing he knew it was light outside marking the next day.

If he could turn back time, he would slit his own throat before sitting to tea with Elain. It would probably hurt less than he felt now, hearing his mate’s sobs through the locked door knowing there was nothing he could do to help. “Please, Ruby.” He croaked out after hours of sitting outside of the door. “I’m sorry. I… I was jealous and stupid, and I wanted to make you hurt like I was hurting. It’s felt like you’ve picked Cassian over me for weeks and I didn’t know how to talk to you about it. I’m so sorry my love, you deserve a better mate.” Her cries had softened to a sniffle and he heard a click of the door. It surprised Azriel who had been sitting on the ground, head hung low.

He shot up, the door opening to reveal Ruby with a red nose and puffy eyes, irritated from hours of crying. He didn’t think his heart could break any further, but he found himself wrong once again.

“I don’t deserve a better mate. I have the perfect mate, Azriel.” She said softly, his heart daring to lift an inch off of the ground of the pit that it found itself in at her words. “I deserved to be treated better though, yes.” He hung his head nodding solemnly. Ruby walked back to bed and crawled beneath the sheets. Azriel hesitated to get close to her, his eyes shone with tears unshed. The desperation to be close to her was palpable and Ruby granted him mercy lightly tapping on the bedspread next to her. He wasn’t going to question her as he kicked off his boots practically racing for the bed before she changed her mind. They lay side by side turned so they could see each other. Whenever they were in bed, they were always wrapped in each other’s arms so not being able to touch her was agony for Azriel.

“What happened Az? Why didn’t you talk to me about how you were feeling with me seeing Cassian?” She whispered, wrapping her arms around herself as a way to comfort herself from the conversation they were having. Azriel reached out to tuck a piece of hair that had fallen into her face before thinking better of it halfway and pulling it back away. Ruby gently grabbed his hand and led it back to her cheek. As upset as she was, she craved the comfort that only he could provide. He caressed the side of her face, his thumb gently stroking back and forth. She closed her eyes feeling the familiar sensation, relishing in the warmth and care he provided.

“I was embarrassed, I think. I know you would never cheat on me but whenever you left to see him it felt like you were choosing him over me. And then it felt like you were spending all of your time with him and I felt like I wasn’t enough for you. Like you had to seek happiness elsewhere with someone more worthy.” He whispered back the insecurities that had flooded his brain as of late. Ruby shook her head vehemently, “I’m sorry you were feeling like that Az, I had no idea. Why do you keep saying that you aren’t worthy? You are.” She pressed not breaking eye contact with him as if to hammer home her reassurance. He didn’t deserve his kind mate. He should be reassuring her and here he was blubbering about his insecurities. “I don’t know. You are this ball of light and bring so much warmth into my life and what do I bring you? Baggage and pain.” He held his breath as he dared to whisper his deepest thoughts. As if, if he spoke them too loudly, she would realize his words to be truth and would up and leave. But she didn’t. She just shook her head sadly.

“I wish you saw yourself the way I saw you. You are strong, you’re a loyal friend,” he flinched, he wasn’t being very loyal when he went to Elain, Ruby gave him a knowing look. “We’ll get there. You are the best person I know Az. I wish you gave yourself the benefit of the doubt.” Ruby gave a moment of pause watching Azriel shake his head in disagreement “Do you think that I am a good person?” He nodded, “of course. The absolute best.” “Then why would my mate be someone terrible? Wouldn’t it make sense for the one that my soul is bound to by the cauldron to be just as good?” Azriel pondered, he had never thought about it that way before.

Ruby nodded to herself before taking a deep breath “So. Tell me about Elain.” Azriel shut his eyes. “Gods I’m such an idiot. I’m so sorry my love. I promise that nothing happened, I was fired up after the meeting and she and I just talked. I acted despicably and if I could do it all over again, I would come straight home. Words-“ His voice cracked and he cleared his throat “words cannot express how awful I feel about it. If you want me to never speak to her again I will, just say the word. Please don’t leave me. Please. I’ll do anything.” He had never begged before, but he wasn’t above getting down on his knees for this female that ruled his world.

Ruby shook her head lightly “I’m not leaving you.” A weight lifted off of Azriel’s shoulders at her words and he began softly crying tears of relief. The rare sight of Azriel crying was too much for Ruby’s heart to handle and she wrapped her arms around her mate holding him tight. “What you did wasn’t okay. You lashed out to hurt me and I won’t just stand by and be your punching bag when you don’t know how to express your emotions.” Azriel nodded pressing his nose further into her hair taking a deep breath centering himself in her scent. She was here, she wasn’t leaving. “I’ll do better, I promise. I’ll communicate more when I’m feeling upset and we can work through it together.” Ruby nuzzled into his chest humming her approval. “And I’ll be more sensitive to making quality time with you a priority.” They stayed like that for an hour before Ruby broke the silence. “What if we took a little time off from the world? Spent some time just cooped up here, getting back into our groove and patching everything up?” Azriel let out a deep sigh a small fond smile finally taking to his face. “Yes, my love. That sounds wonderful.” They spent the rest of the day there, holding on to each other basking in the other’s warmth.

[reblogandlikes]

Self insert Fandom

I've come to realise that most of the toxicity within the acotar fandom is often rooted in a ridiculous amount of self insert. They see a character as them, therefore their actions are absolved. They see another character in their abuser, or worse, 'as' their abusers and so they can never be impartial towards them, thinking the worst because in real life they've dealt with a lot.

I get it. Art can sometimes mimic reality, but they are indeed forgetting that this is a whole fantasy fiction book about human women turned fae getting dicked down with a hint of war and political intrigue. These characters are not, in fact, you or your abusers. Making the series so personal to themselves can then lead to a lack of introspection of the work as a whole made to be enjoyed and critiqued to the readers' preference, whether shallow or in depth.

But because this fandom in particular seem to make these books so personal than reading it as a piece of fiction, they're inflicting real world scenarios onto fictional characters and if their characters face any backlash or reasonable questioning, they take it as a personal attack which for some reason leads to insults and wild assumptions of very REAL people.

"No, no one is saying you should forgive your abuser mum, boyfriend, sister, because this literally isn't about you. I dont know you or your situation. Im talking about *insert character*."

"No, I don't think reactive abuse is OK, though I also don't believe lying about SA is OK either, let alone condoning SA."

"What do you mean it's abusive to lock someone up and then make an excuse to say it's not abuse to lock someone else up?"

The mental gymnastics is truly outstanding. If they're so called morally grey, let them be just that.

Speaking for myself, it's easy to find some commonality in a characters personality. It's written by a whole human who has a personality too, after all. But I do not attach myself to these characters as if they are my family members or those dear to me. They are, in fact, not real, and I will talk about them in the context of a fantasy text, generally.

Now the moment you take their actions out of a fantasy text, every character, and I mean, every character, needs to be dealt with the same scrutiny. Your faves will be called out and dragged. You cannot call real people names, but then think highly of yourself when your faves have done worse. What does that then make you? A racist? A misogynist? An AS denier? An abuse apologist? Someone who endorses apartheid? Someone who's OK with controlling the female body? A war criminal?

You see how absurd that all is?

Honestly, it's not that deep. But again, it's not bad to see yourself in character. Just realise that when people have some reservations about them, they are not calling YOU out. They are strictly talking about that character and that character alone. But maybe if you find so much offence, perhaps you should think about why that is. Look deep and figure out why it troubles you so much. Perhaps they're holding up a mirror, and you simply can not bear to look into it, seeming that that character represents you so much.

I think this is the only fandom I've been involved in where simply daring to disagree with the main MC and side characters can lead to online prosecution and just so much hostility. I've seen some truly nasty comments, and it's boggling. I can imagine how off-putting it may seem to newer readers.

I long for the days when people can talk about the characters and narrative alone without feeling the need to make disclosures about what they support in real life because it's truly unnecessary. I thought reading fiction was meant to be a form of escapism, not defending my moral standpoint.

If I said I enjoyed Katherine Pierce, Klaus Mikaelson and Kai Parker from TVD, what then? They're despicable, but fucking enjoyable. Don't get me started on Game of Thrones characters.

Alright, I'm done now 😅

[lyssasdrafts]

WATCHING THEM FALL FOR SOMEONE ELSE — acotar boys

characters: rhysand, cassian, azriel, & lucien x gn! reader

includes: angst, unrequited love, jealousy, open ended for rhys & lulu

note: not proof read, i wrote this when i was upset so idk if it makes sense, trying out a different style/format

RHYSAND - misunderstanding

rhysand is someone who constantly has to deal with pressure on him. from his family, from his work, it all never ends. you were a breath of fresh air for him. you filled those gaps in his day where he could just be himself.

maybe it was foolish for you to believe you could occupy any more space than that. some people in life aren’t meant to be significant, but simply someone you can pass some time with.

“i’m sorry,” he muttered. the only time you had ever heard him stutter and look away from you when he spoke. “i just have a lot going on right now.”

you decide to just accept the rejection. you hadn’t asked to stay in touch, or to still be friends. you didnt want to bother troubling him anymore than you already did from his busy life. you just nodded, said you understood and left.

weeks later he’s on your doorstep, ringing your doorbell and tapping his foot anxiously against the concrete ground for you to come out. “but i can make time for you,” he wanted to say. until he suddenly gets a message calling him in for an emergency. by the time you had come and opened your door, you were just faced with an empty doorframe and no trace of rhysand but his footsteps.

CASSIAN - waiting too long to confess

cassian was someone that caught your eye from the moment you had met. he was always someone in the back of your mind, but his presence there had only increased the more you got to know each other. he’s someone you became more comfortable with overtime until you’d find yourself actively trying to get closer to him and wanting to learn more about him.

you had still never heard from him about his mother or how he met his friends. on why he’s still willing to take on everyone else’s burdens despite his own struggles. and perhaps you never would after hearing about him being with someone else.

perhaps you had stalled too long to confess, to actually talk to him about something that wasn’t jokes and banter. someone else beat you to it.

you think of all the chances you’d had, that time everyone else had left you two alone at rhy’s house or that time he’d offered to bring you home, and maybe instead of wondering about him, you could’ve actually seen for yourself.

AZRIEL - unrequited/one sided love

azriel was never someone who had a lot to say, always the first one to leave and the last one to arrive. all your friends scoffed at you for liking such a mysterious guy.

you had been an acquaintance for some time, always noticing the little ways he would smile at you or stay behind to make small talk. maybe it was just all in your head, but part of you felt like you could actually get to him.

you felt that the reason he kept giving you the cold shoulder was just because he tends to be nervous right? the reason he always gave you short and rigid responses.

when you see him leaning against a wall talking with someone else, laughing with them, probably letting them in all the way when you’d wished he would just give you an inch, that’s when you’d realized how wrong you had been.

LUCIEN - giving him up willingly

watching lucien fall in love again is like losing your best friend. you knew you weren’t ready to pursue him and to commit to a relationship, so you let him go.

you still remember that look he gave you, the way the light in his eyes had died when you told you that you felt the same but wanted to wait. maybe he did deserve someone better than you, someone who wouldn’t string him along for who knows how long.

“you should go for it,” you smile as you nudge him to talk to someone else. he gives you a look, as if hes waiting for approval, giving you one last chance to take him back and ask him not to leave. you don’t, but instead your smile drops when you watch him look at someone else with that same gaze.

slowly the distance between the two of you grew, more and more of his time being taken up by someone who could actually give him a relationship. losing lucien didn’t just mean losing a lover, but your best friend too.

[starsreminisce]

I have to preface this by saying that I really don’t care who gets the next book; this is more about me trying to get my thoughts out.

A lot of people are basing their expectations for the next ACOTAR book on HOFAS, and I feel like this is another situation where, despite being told how influential ACOTAR was going to be for HOFAS, it ended up being just Nesta and Azriel on a walking museum tour with Bryce under the Court of Nightmares. Someone who had never read ACOTAR wouldn’t have missed out much on who the ACOTAR characters were. I feel like the same mistake is being made by relying too much on HOFAS for Azriel and Gwyn to take the lead in the next book.

It’s not about a character being at their lowest to prompt the next main character; it’s about a character needing to exhaust all viable options in their current circumstances before they are presented with a change that will help them.

That’s basic storytelling when starting out a book. In the first chapter, there needs to be a hook—the “why,” the Call to Action.

In ACOTAR, it was Feyre killing the wolf; in ACOMAF, it was Feyre struggling post-UTM and finding comfort in the night sky; in ACOWAR, it was Hybern coming to the Spring Court; and in ACOSF, it was Nesta’s intervention.

Even HOFAS’s first chapter started with Lidia to preview her upcoming revolt later in the book.

There are theories that Elain will see Azriel pull away from her, become more drawn to Gwyn, and that they’ll end up being mates, which would then push Elain to focus on Lucien because Azriel is now soul-bound to someone else.

The problem I have with that theory is that Elain already has a mating bond that she’s avoiding, and seeing Azriel happy with his mate isn’t going to force her to finally face her own bond. She has Nesta’s ceremony coming up to do that for her.

Azriel needs to understand why the third sister was given to someone else. He needs to see why Lucien, the male who supposedly doesn’t deserve her and in whom she had no interest, ended up with her. Why Lucien’s patience was rewarded while his own was not. Azriel needs to realize that with every mating bond, it's only a matter of time before mates inevitably come together.

It doesn’t do Elain any good to be rejected twice by Azriel and then realize there’s no one left, so she defaults to Lucien. She’s already aware of that after being rejected twice by two people who aren’t her mates, realizing she can no longer afford to ignore her true mate.

If the BC was supposed to be a “test” or lesson from the Mother about the mating bond, Elain passed because she applied what she learned from Graysen to Azriel. Azriel failed because not only did he not have an answer for Rhys about Mor, he ignored it. The Mother graded him on a curve to pass by means of Gwyn.

Rhysand also gave a vital clue when he said that Lucien would defend his bond against Azriel and how important Lucien’s survival is to maintaining the fragile peace between Autumn, Spring, and the Human Lands.

Both Lucien and Elain are now at a point where their next chapters are coming into focus. Lucien’s assignment to be permanently stationed in Spring is technically over because Feyre gave birth, and his frustration with Jurian and Vassa constantly clashing is reaching a tipping point, especially with Vassa’s time running out. Lucien has also demonstrated inherent dominance, and Beron is becoming more audacious with his alliance with Hybern to take over the Spring Court from Tamlin, who is still dealing with grief and guilt.

Elain’s last distraction from the mating bond just told her it was a mistake and left. She doesn’t need salt rubbed into that wound by having him be right about calling it a mistake. But Azriel does need to understand, through Lucien, that it doesn’t matter if Elain showed disinterest in Lucien because, in the end, Elain is still Lucien’s mate. Mor’s lack of interest in Azriel isn’t why the mating bond between them hasn’t snapped.

Azriel is the one who misunderstands the mating bond, while Elain is the one avoiding it. Elain has no reason to avoid it anymore, but Azriel still has more to learn about the mating bond.

So, with that said, even with HOFAS, Elucien now has a much higher chance of providing a compelling hook in the first chapter compared to Gwynriel.

And that starts with Nessian’s ceremony because SJM gave an oddly specific timeframe for when that would happen at the end of ACOSF, in addition to Nesta placing Elain's rose marker on Papa Archie's grave.

That’s not to say Gwynriel can’t or doesn’t happen in the next book. I’m sure Azriel will experience a wave of emotions during a ceremony (especially since Feysand did theirs in secret) and might look over at Gwyn, sparking something more between them, or this could unfold after Bryce’s first, second, or third visit.

But Elain watching the sister who was most antagonistic toward the Fae embrace the most Fae aspect of herself, pulling herself out of her downward spiral with Cassian’s help, could have a profound impact on her. Realizing that Lucien would be staying in Velaris (possibly for two weeks, as Feyre suggested in FAS) to figure out the next steps with Tamlin and Beron, especially after Nesta’s interference, sets the stage for the next book.

[crumbledcastle28]

Azriel Shadowsinger: Young God

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader (afab; she/her)

Request: “Okay I’m annoying you with these now hehe sorry. But I have another idea/request. You know how in angst Azriel x reader oneshots it’s always the reader who’s in love with Azriel and he’s in a relationship? How about we switch that and make it so Azriel is in love with an unavailable reader?” @aroseinvelaris

Excerpt: “He looked up at you like a boy, a little boy, who had been pushed too far. And yet, at the same time, the Azriel who quickened your heart with only a glance was still there, giving his face and body the look of what you could only describe as a young, bleeding god. Covered in sweat and tears and blood, his hair soaked with the same alloy, he was a fallen angel, begging for mercy.

His eyes said to you make it stop. Please, make it end.

“Az,” you whispered, and he fell into your arms.

Your brain instantly tore you in half. You had never felt so overjoyed and crestfallen in the same moment.”

Warnings: illyrian!reader, jealous!azriel (so yummy), idiots in love, reader has sex with someone else, heavy swearing, kind of toxic reader and az, drinking, mating bond, punching bags, blood, kissing, and our lord of bloodshed and high lord make an appearance.

Word Count: 3.7k 

A/N: I have been sitting on this request forever, and I feel I am finally capable of doing it justice. I hope you enjoy @aroseinvelaris, thank you again for your request.

A/N 2: I’m a lot a little rusty with acotar vernacular and Azriel descriptions. so please be kind. This is also incredibly not canon.

SJM Masterlist 

If you would like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated :)

The last thing you wanted to do in the infamous, disreputable Windhaven War-Camp was drink, but with the presence of its current war lord, you were really fucking tempted to.

You could hear his remarks from a multiple tables away. 

 Training females, a waste of resources if you ask me.

What the fuck else does Rhysand expect of us? To put bitches in our camps? On our front lines?

Rhysand’s dogs wish they could prove what we do to with them after their training.

He was a cocksucking pig, and that was enough of an excuse for you to bring a cup of wine to your lips and practically guzzle it down.

“You hear him too?” said the Lord of Bloodshed to your right, or as you knew him, just Cass.

You nodded, taking another sip despite the sour grapes coating your tongue, and his leathers squeaked as he leaned forward on his chair. He was gripping his own glass like a sailor dangling over a hull.

“Mother help me,” he replied.

“Mother help us all,” you countered, and Cassian chuckled.

“And Rhysand most of all,” he replied, gesturing across the crowded dining area.

Rhys was elbows-deep in documents, going over how exactly Windhaven was functioning under his rule with the other war lords. You didn’t blame him. With Ironcrest continuing to defame him and grip onto their dissent, Rhysand couldn’t afford to lose anyone else.

He would never admit that, of course, but after over a century of spying for him, you had your ways of reading him; shoulders tight, back hunched, eyebrows creased, and chin resting on his palm. Yeah, he was a bit stressed out.

If only you could read another Illyrian in the room’s body language so well.

You and Cassian sat and drank for some time, grateful Rhys trusted you to be his backup but simultaneously regretting ever joining him in the first place, before the rest of your backup arrived.

You begged your heart not to quicken. The alcohol was already fucking with your head enough.

Azriel sat in the seat to your left, his distinct musk of cool air, leather, and shadows breezing by you as he did, and poured himself a glass of his own.

“Notice anything?” Cassian asked him as he poured, well aware that your heart was in fact quickening, but Az shook his head.

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

You nodded as he sipped his drink, leaning back into his chair. His wings and chest widened, giving your peripheral vision the perfect angle of his leathers. Him and Cassian had gone all out - adorned with every dagger, cuirass, pauldron, and gauntlet you could think of, in addition to their shimmering siphons bouncing off every metallic object in the hall. You blended in with them as best as you could.

Except, of course, the fact that you were a female.

Az’s voice ripped you from your thoughts. “I would feel more confident if Y/N did my route over again after dinner is served. Would you be okay with that?” 

You nodded without looking at him, and were surrounded by silence once more.

The three of you continued to keep your eyes open, scanning the room for any sudden movements, suspicious glances, or unnecessary walks towards your High Lord. Your body besieged you to get up and get away from the male beside you. Escape the nervous energy he always seemed to coat you with made especially worse given the fact that you were surrounded and outnumbered by enemies, made your fight-flight-or-freeze response ache with strain.

The alcohol wasn’t helping the feeling at all. You needed something else. Right then and right there to make your heart pound and sweat pour from your pores.

With one glance to your right, you spotted your solution.

“Is that who I think it is?” Cassian asked, following your line of sight, and you grinned.

Ozia. A name perfect for his image in your mind.

Azriel followed your gaze as well, his spine straightening and his eyes squinting, and looked back to you with a look that could only be described as a mix of puzzled and panicked.

The male’s hazel eyes met yours across the hall, and in that moment, you knew exactly where your night was going to end.

The male was tall and chiseled, skin tanned and freckled, and his hair was brown and curly. It hung over his eyes slightly, etching his curved nose and pouted lips perfectly. He was quiet, reserved, but one of the few Ilyrian males you had ever found yourself able to trust. You had met him the last time you had visited Devlon, enforcing Rhysand’s rule of training before chores with an iron fist, and Ozia had backed you up completely. He explained that he had even started taking the females back to his home to teach them proper stretching and breathing techniques, and his support made your trip infinitely easier.

Maybe that was the reason you had ended up in his bed, or maybe it was because of his borderline piercing resemblance to the male on your left. Either way, Cassian had never teased you as relentlessly as he had the day he had found out - you still had no fucking idea how - and with the look in his eye as his gaze bounced between you, Ozia, and Az, he was not going to let this one go either.

Not a morsel of you cared. It was infinitely better than sitting in the want of a male you could never have.

You finished off your wine before standing up, scraping your wooded chair against the floor as you did. Azriel looked up at you and, likely having put the two pieces together, asked, “What about dinner?”

Your excitement to escape him caused you to overlook the venom in his tone.

“I’m not hungry,” you responded, and made your way towards the male you knew, and away from the one you wish you did.

                                                          ~*~

Azriel willed himself to remember a word of what Cassian had said to him from the moment you left to the moment he finally made his escape, but as he trekked up the creaky, circular stairs to his dust-ridden bedroom for the evening, he could not recall a single word.

Not after the look in your eyes as you looked at the male across the room, the grin tracing your teeth as you eyed him, and the way your hips moved as you walked to him. Not after Azriel could not eat more than a few bites of the chicken soup provided for them without becoming queasy at the thought of what that male - Ozia - was doing to you, what you were doing to him. Not after the blow to his heart after waiting for you to walk his route with him, as you had agreed to, and you never showing. 

And especially not now, as he prepared himself for the necessity of passing your room in order to get to his own.

With the alcohol muddling his mind and the exhaustion in his muscles from one of the longest days he had experienced in recent memory, he thought he could pass it by without a second thought. He was in the clear at the top of the steps, throat closing and head pounding, but as he made his way past your door, his hope dissolved like a sugar in tea.

He didn’t hear you, or him, or have any proof that you were together in your room in any way...

... except for the smell of it.

He had never hated anything more..

The smell of you - you - that he had gotten to know so well. Vanilla and green tea with just a hint of rose, a mixture true to who you were at your core, mixed with the smell of someone else. It was sex and sweat and spit and sheets and you so much of you and so much of him.

It was acrid, pungent, and so fucking heart shattering that he had to put his hand to his chest to ensure his heart was still beating.

He wanted to keel over in pain, rip his heart out of his chest, shatter every window in the cabin, and rip you away from him all in the same moment.

But he just kept on walking, ignoring the tether in his chest pulling him back to you more than anything else.

                                                       ~*~

If Azriel thought that night was long, he was not ready for the morning after.

At breakfast, you reeked of him, yet the smile on your face was what burned Azriel to a crisp. As the four of you traveled home, you and Cass snuck glances at each other like two females who knew something Azriel didn’t. When you finally reached the House of Wind, you immediately went up to bed, mumbling something about how you hadn’t managed to get much sleep anyway.

He hadn’t either.

As you headed upstairs, Azriel headed down, vibrating with an energy he could not describe. All he knew was that he wanted it off of him. He needed everything he was feeling inside of him off and away it was cutting him so deeply - 

“Hey,” came a voice, the arm attached to it finding its place on Azriel’s shoulder. He turned, startled to finally feel his body after living solely in his head, and was met with violet.

“What’s going on?” Rhys asked, and Azriel softened a bit from the look of concern in his eyes.

After centuries of having brothers - real brothers - he still wasn’t used to being loved.

“I’m fine,” Azriel replied, and Rhys raised his eyebrows. “Honestly, I am. Just overtired, and sick of Illyrians.”

As if on cue, Cassian walked through the house with a dagger in one hand and an even bigger bottle of liquor in the other, likely headed upstairs to bring said items up to his mate.

He turned to look at his observers as he made his way up, exclaiming proudly, “I picked the dagger out myself.”

Rhys and Az looked at each other after he reached the top, and Rhys chuckled, patting Azriel on the shoulder. “You and me both, brother.”

                                                     ~*~

 Azriel couldn’t remember how many punching bags he’d sent flying across the training room’s floor. He didn’t fucking care.

All he knew was that the feeling inside of him was not stopping.

He had done pushups until he collapsed, a plank until he dropped, crunches until he puked, and now he was punching the bags without any wrapping protecting the skin of his hands. He would take anything else - anything else - in place of this anguish. He could still smell it, couldn’t stop picturing it, and every time his brain seemed to release him from the torture of its vividity, it would snap back in almost instantly like a punch to his stomach.

He’d been hit many times, but nothing that felt like this. It was a feral, dirty, venomous beast inside of him tearing him apart with its nails and teeth. His arms were jelly, his hands were spilling clumps of blood, but it still wasn’t enough. The beast was relentless, beating Azriel no matter what he did.

His chest ached so badly. The thought of you kissing Ozia.

Punch.

Tasting him. 

Punch. 

Feeling him.

Punch.

Laughing with him.

Punch.

Smiling at him. Enough to crinkle your irises. While Azriel waited for you.

Punch.

And possibly even loving him.

A punch, a crack, and a scream echoed through the chamber, and Azriel smiled with victory as his body finally gave out on him.

                                                          ~*~

You woke covered in sweat, an unidentifiable scream echoing through your mind like a stone in an empty cave, and a searing pain etching its way down your right hand. Tears coated your eyes as you sat up, hissing as the throbbing made it down to your fingertips.

The scream continued to reverberate all the while.

“Fuck,” you whispered, your hand laying limp by your side. You felt stupid for crying. You had broken your hand before.

But your hand wasn’t broken.

You attempted to wiggle it around, flexing your fingers and widening your grip, and the pain slowly faded to a dull ache. You wiped your eyes as you pushed down onto the mattress with it, attempting to gauge how harsh the pain was engrained your bones.

The searing sensation returned.

“Fuck,” you whispered again, and scooted off the bed and onto your feet. The sun had begun to rise outside your window, illuminating you with gold as you walked into the hall and down to the kitchen. 

Your mind muddled with pain and sleep so harshly that you relied on your body to navigate for you, allowing it to think for you. You didn’t even know why you were going to the kitchen. You just needed to move the rest of your body to distract you from your hanging hand.

As you blinked the sleep out of your eyes, you realized that, instead of the kitchen, your body had begun to take you down further. 

“What the fuck am I doing?” you questioned, but still walked down, down, down.

Maybe your body was telling you that some training would do you good. Maybe your hand was just stiff and sore, and needed renewed blood flow. You had been skipping out on your morning routine due to your guard duty. Maybe your body was itching for it back.

You yawned, whispering, “Whatever.”

You began rolling your shoulders as your feet hit the ground, warming up your back and neck. You rubbed your eyes one last time with your left hand, allowing your still aching right one to remain hanging at your side, while simultaneously becoming overwhelmed with the scent of sweat, rubber, and blood. For a second, you smiled, content with the feeling of walking into a space you knew so well - that knew you so well. You were excited, your adrenal gland suddenly pumping you with adrenaline and dopamine.

You were home.

That euphoric pairing was suddenly doused with cortisol as you turned towards the punching bags, only to be met with nearly a dozen lying flat, and a mass of dark wings kneeling on the hard ground.

A mass of dark wings that you could recognize with only the sound of them.

“Azriel,” you whispered, watching as he breathed heavily, clutching his bleeding hand. He was surrounded by small sprays of crimson blood and clear sweat, painting the floor a muted color. His expression was...pained, haunted.

It was his right hand he was clutching.

“Azriel,” you said again, a bit louder that time, and picked up your stride. He hinted at no recognition.

Your own pained hand was long forgotten.

You reached him quickly, kneeling down beside him and touching his shoulders gently. You turned him to look at you, tempted to finally understand the exact feeling of his face slightly stubbled, but his head remained low.

“Azriel, what the fu -” you began, but were unable to form another syllable when his golden eyes connected with yours.

He looked up at you like a boy, a little boy, who had been pushed too far. And yet, at the same time, the Azriel who quickened your heart with only a glance was still there, giving his face and body the look of what you could only describe as a young, bleeding god. Covered in sweat and tears and blood, his hair soaked with the same alloy, he was a fallen angel, begging for mercy.

His eyes said to you make it stop. Please, make it end.

“Az,” you whispered, and he fell into your arms.

Your brain instantly tore you in half. You had never felt so overjoyed and crestfallen in the same moment.

His face was pressed against your collarbone as he began to weep, and his arms wrapped around your waist. He was timid at first, waiting for you to push him away, but you didn’t. Your body molded him to you, pressing him against you and holding him like glass. He was shaking, sweating, and bleeding all over you, enough that blood dripping from his mouth had begun to soak through your shirt. You closed your eyes and held him impossibly closer, and brought your still throbbing hand up to the back of his neck.

Every part of his body that you could feel was warm - too warm.

“Azriel,” you whispered, your voice suddenly cracking at the effort to speak, “what happened?”

He said nothing.

“Why are you down here, Azriel?” you asked, beginning to rub your fingers along the top of his spine. “Tell me why.”

He inhaled shakily, his hot breath mixing with the heat of his blood still staining you, and tried to speak. Nothing escaped besides another quiet sob.

This Spymaster, Illyrian warrior, the strongest there had ever been, was shattering in your arms.

“Please just tell me,” you whispered again. It was your own way of begging him to get up again, be the male who never cracked, never crumbled. He was a rock - he was always a rock - and seeing him like this was scaring the living shit out of you.

He had to have caught on, because after a few shaky breaths, he whispered quietly enough for only you to hear. “Because I can still smell him on you.”

Your eyes widened, and a copper taste coated your tongue.

“You...” you whimpered, “you smell him?”

Suddenly Azriel pushed himself off you and looked at you with something other than pain and hurt.

It was...you didn’t know what it was.

“Yes,” he replied, his bloodied, broken hand trembling, “that’s all I can fucking smell and see. I can’t stop it. No matter what I do, I can’t stop it.”

You recalled Rhysand’s words from the past, about Feyre.

When I would feel her on Tamlin, he said, it was all I could see. I couldn’t stop it.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Azriel continued, “my chest...it hurts.”

It was all in my chest, Rhysand had said, the pain was, at least, The rest was somewhere deeper, like it was engrained in me. The wrongness of it was inside of me.

“It’s inside of me, Y/N.” Azriel’s mouth was dripping blood now, adding to the mural he had painted on the floor, “I don’t...your hand?”

You looked down at your limp one, and back up at him.

“You...you felt it?” he asked, referring to the shattering of his own bones.

You nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks, but from something other than pain. Your voice was breathy and perfumed with triumph as you traced the pattern in both Az and Rhys’s words. “Yes.”

Azriel’s defeated eyes suddenly lit with curiosity. “How...how is that possi -” 

“The pain’s right here, isn’t it?” you interrupted him, putting your left hand on the area right beneath your breasts. “Right here?”

You moved your hand to the same area on his chest, and he nodded. 

“It burns, doesn’t it?”

“Everywhere,” he agreed.

You nodded. “It’s deep, like in your bones it feels -”

“- wrong.” He completed your sentence for you.

You smiled, big enough to wrinkle your irises, and kissed him.

He was bloody and hot, but you kissed him anyway, hard enough for drops of it to begin to drip down your lips as well.

You pulled away and took his injured hand in yours. “Why do you think I was with Ozia in the first place?”

Azriel’s voice was quiet and unsure. “I... I don’t know.”

“Because he was as close to you as I could get,” you said with a chuckle. “I thought, after a century, there was no hope. That the Cauldron destined you for someone else. I figured, if I couldn’t have you, I would drown the grief in someone who I could pretend was you.”

His eyes widened, and he licked his bloodied lips before asking, “Did it work?”

You chuckled back and kissed his cheek. “Not even close.”

With your lips still buzzing, he pulled you in for another kiss, and finally - finally - the cracks in your chest bloomed into a bond. It was soothing, spreading itself over all the wounds that remained open from a century of festering, and replaced them with a garden of roses. The feeling stretched itself around your body, wrapping you in a cocoon of solace. You had been carrying the ache of an untethered line in your body, and it had finally found its dock.

He kissed you softly, holding back enough to prove to you of his uncertainty, before you pulled away and mumbled, “I feel it too.”

He swallowed and smiled, enough to crinkle the skin around his eyes and accentuate his dimples. With his blood still dripping from both of your mouths, he said with full confidence, “You’re my mate.”

You wiped the blood from his chin and brushed back the strands of hair sticking to his forehead as you replied, “And you are mine.”

With eyes only filled with love, Azriel said, “So that’s why I wanted to tear his jaw off.”

You smiled and pressed your foreheads together, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone. Your shattered hands were placed on top of each other on the ground.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you said to him. “I thought the pain I felt was merely jealousy, and I was with Ozia to escape from it. If I knew you were experiencing it too, or if I was honest from the beginning, you never would have gotten hurt.”

You leaned back to look him in the eye as you said, “I am sorry I hurt you. I am sorry I left you to do the route alone. I am sorry for all of it.”

He only smiled. “I had every opportunity to be honest too, and I didn’t take it. This isn’t your fault.’

You nodded, but he kissed you again. “This isn’t your fault.”

 You kissed him back, showing him you believed him through your tongue and teeth.

You had dreamed of this moment, internalized every spat of poetry Rhysand and Cassian had iterated about the feeling of it, but nothing could have prepared you to know the feeling of being honestly, rawfully, and purely loved.

 Taglist (if you’d like to be added please let me know!)

@leahkenobi  @notquitehero @lovelyladymayyy @seraphqueen @em---r @azaideen @katiebellf @llovelydove @tinasbookishlife @xxpeachyxo @evlyncelia @icarusave @forever-paramore28 @peachyxlynch @feyretopia @wingedmiken @moonslattes @hollyismentallyillhelp @esposadomd @redhighlady @bsenpai-blog @buttercake2234 @perssepeony @whor-3-crux @avengerswhre @mystic-sculpture @wolfyland7 @are-y0u-serious-blog @hilism @tooobsessedsstuff @simplysensual @hernameispa @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @i-am-fascinated @seraphimluxe @just-living5 @saphiraprince22 @azsazz​ @thatonespriteobsessedbitch​ @moisyinfluencerstrawberry @bigcreatorwombatdreamer​ 

[daliasmay]

What if Beron loved LOA many years ago?

Just don't hit me, please😭I was too afraid to post these thoughts because someone might see it as an attempt to defend the strongest abuser in ACOTAR. But it isn't.

I accidentally blurted it out during a heated discussion about Autumn Court (Eris) with my best and lovely friend

It is not a theory, it is just… something that I suddenly imagine in my head really WITHOUT REASON AND WITHOUT ANY TIME FOR UNDERSTANDING.

I'm not going to defend Beron, even though he used his brain cell at the HL meeting. But...

Let me explain.

⚠️ I think it's important to point out that this is not an excuse, but an attempt to explain this holey plot ⚠️

LOA was the youngest sister. There is no description in the text that her sisters were married. We know that LOA powerful. I'm sure her sisters were the same. They were brave. They defended their little sister.

I thought that if all Beron needed was a pedigree, he could have married an older sister. But he chose to propose to LOA. And LOA waited one year. Beron let her wait a whole year. If it had been a one-sided 'sale' for the sake of procreation, no one would have given her the chance to wait for someone else.

When he chose those who could protect her and not betray her when she escaped - he chose her sisters, someone who would protect her no matter what.

To be honest, he already had children from her. Some of them were on the battlefield, the youngest were packed off to relatives. They would be enough for him, even for a bloodbath in the race for the throne.

I don't really understand the concept that Sarah wrote. Like, the more kids, the more spectacular the Hunger Games? That doesn't make any sense! Like the fact that Lucien was able to get a good education. If Beron had known from the start that Lucien was not his son, he would have either killed him or denied him such a chance to study. Knowledge is the most dangerous weapon. And he graciously gave it to Lucien while the other brothers barely had time to grow up before they were given lands to rule. No ruler would train a threat or a bastard. On the contrary, Lucien had to be illiterate. He should not be able to read, write or count. Nothing at all. Lucien was not given a piece of land. But he was given an education. He read and studied until he was bored.

Just because I think Beron loved LOA doesn't mean she loved him and wanted to be with him. It's just a thought I had in the autumn.

The Prythian is a very traditional place, so it seems that a good marriage is very important for women there. Even today there are folks and societies that are generally modern, but traditions are stronger. And many women are prepared for marriage from childhood, their families prepare huge dowries for them, and for many women marriage is the meaning of their lives.

LOA had autonomy of movement. That's a fact. She met Helion and had affairs with him for decades. That's a lot for woman who was supposedly kept locked up all her life with no voice and no freedom.

I just think that if Beron had loved her before, he would have allowed her to travel and visit the Prythian lands, for example, accompanied by her own guards and her own entourage. I think she had her own entourage before, some women and men who were loyal to her and who she helped with their court life.

That's the only explanation I can think of for why she could be with Helion and Beron just didn't realise it for many years.

And here Lucien.

The most powerful betrayal. And his personal shame as a High Lord and husband. Not only in the eyes of his family, but also in the eyes of the AC nobility. As if he was a sign that he can't control his family and his court. A sign of his weakness.

Sometimes I think his brothers hate him, mostly because everything went to hell after he was born.

Just imagine that everything was more or less fine overall, but after he was born, LOA was locked in the house and Beron went crazy😕 Started abusing her again and again, started abusing them.

The sheer betrayal in his eyes, the feeling of having his heart ripped out. And from that moment on, he decided to make her life a living hell.

She was full of life, now she is just… a shell of herself.

I imagine that Lucien's brothers had seen their mother laugh and joy, and after he was born she became completely different. It was as if he was the reason they had lost the mother who had raised them.

"Everything was fine until you were born"

Maybe, deep down, they realised that he wasn't to blame for what had happened, that it wasn't his fault. But he was the weakest.

They couldn't blame their father, they couldn't blame their mother. But they could blame Lucien.

Beron had no reason to kill Jesminda. He could have just forced Lucien to marry someone else. He could beat him up and so on. There were many more cruel ways.

Her murder was not only a blow to Lucien, it was a blow to the Lady.

A demonstration of how she had "wounded" him.

He showed her through Lucien's screams and tears, her favourite son, what she had done and made her believe it was her fault.

"Look what you've done with me. Look what you've done to him"

Jesminda's murder was organised to make Lucien, the most emotional son, cry and scream in his grief. A grief so intense that it tore LOA to pieces.

Lucien's execution was to be the icing on the cake of revenge. The final chord.

Every tear, every sob is part of the play to show how much he was hurt years ago when he realised that she had betrayed their marriage.

But Beron took things much deeper.