#tamlin one shot

[acourtofmenandthirst]

Show Them

Tamlin x Reader. If you don’t like it, don’t read it :) I feel like after all of the events of books 2-5, he’s learned how and why he was wrong, and he’s been kicked a lot while he was down. It’s about time for him to redeem himself and find love too ok?? So here is my rendition of the start of his redemption arc. 

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death, trauma

Word Count: 8.7K

You huffed a sigh, wiping your hands at the hem of your thin dress, ridding yourself of the flecks of mud and dry blood. With a squint, you picked at your palm, trying to pull the thick wooden splinter from your skin. Fourth one in an hour, you rolled your eyes to yourself, glaring at the pile of wood and debris - what previously held the roof over your head. 

You eyed the deep scratches embossed in the wood, the ones that no doubt belonged to the Naga that roamed the nearby forest. They’d looted and torn your house to the ground, much like your neighbor’s home and the shops in the town. After the High Lord had disappeared years ago, the hierarchy had fallen - there were no more sentries to guard the village, to threaten the Bogge and keep the wraiths at bay. 

Not that you had many belongings, but you needed to find as much food as you could. You dug around for scraps of food, money, jewelry - anything of value that you could trade for shelter. But fuck, you came up with nothing. Your house was nothing but a pile of dust, all your belongings gone with it. And it was getting dark, the sun almost completely disappearing behind mountains in the distance. 

You’d have to beg your neighbors for sanctuary, even if just for the evening. They were no doubt already locking up their homes and arming themselves with all the blades and spears they could find. Deciding you would return in the morning to continue, you turned away from the pile of remains - only for your eye to catch on a glimmer in the woods. 

The shadows had already long fallen over the forest, the black of night seeping in from the treeline before you. You were met with a pair of eyes, glowing and bright green, the golden sunset mirrored in the glossy shine. 

Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart stilling in your veins. There were many creatures that roamed the Spring woodlands, many more creeping in on the territory now that it lacked a High Lord. The water wraiths from the Summer Court encroached in the waters; after hearing that their neighboring sisters no longer paid the Tithe, they swam over in droves. Some were shifters, moving onto the unprotected lands to mark for themselves, others were sirens, with shimmering eyes that promised the brightest future, so beautiful that they lured the young Spring males to the coast, robbing and drowning them for pleasure. 

But these eyes were different, a deep emerald, slanted inwards and narrowed - canine, feral. Studying its prey, waiting for attack. You’d heard rumors of the Autumn Court hounds, the ones Beron and his sons roamed around with. How they could track Fae down between courts, tear their throats out without even revealing themselves - some were rumored to have two heads. But you watched those shining green eyes until the beast turned away, tucking itself back between the trees and disappearing into the darkness. 

___________________________

You were back on the street at the break of dawn, graciously thanking the family that housed you for the night, offering to bring them anything valuable you could find from home’s wreckage. You kicked at the dry sticks and stones on the dirt road leading to your little plot of land, cursing at the fallen trees and dying brush. 

It seemed the Spring Court curse wouldn’t be lifted any time soon. You’d worn a godsdamned mask for years - a doe: the most innocent animal of Spring, silent and small in a court full of sly foxes and brash wolves. The supposed cursebreaker returned to your court only to tear it apart from the inside out, playing spy for the Night Court the whole time. The Autumn Court emissary had left and your High Lord had disappeared - no heir or kin left behind. He abandoned you all and took his power with him. 

Some said he left and sought refuge in the Summer Court - that only Tarquin would be kind enough - naive enough - to offer him solace. Others thought he died, that Feyre killed him and there was nobody else to take the powers of the High Lord. You weren’t sure you believed either of those rumors. Nobody was brave enough to tread to Tamlin’s manor and find out for themselves; only the Mother knew what creatures resided there, Fae or otherwise.

The pile of wood and stone remained untouched overnight, you had to drag yourself over to your old land. It wasn’t worth anything, nothing was anymore. It felt barbaric, almost: digging through the mud and destroyed earth for something to barter with. It seemed that your court had been through nothing but devastation since you’d been alive. You were only just a hundred years old when the land was cursed by Amarantha - spent years in a mask followed by a stint under the mountain. When the curse was lifted, the Spring Court lasted about as long as the celebrations. As soon as life turned back to normal - whatever that truly was - the Night Court infiltration was exposed, Pyrthian was brought to war, and your home was destroyed. 

You groaned, both of your hands wrapped around a heavy log of wood, surely it was the heaviest in the pile. You groaned, gritting your teeth as you tried (and failed) to move it. Your hands slipped, dry bark breaking off the wood beam, causing you to slip and fall backwards right on your ass. You cursed, denouncing the Mother. Perfect start to the fucking day, you’d thought. A whole day of failure awaits. 

“Do you need a hand?” 

Your head snapped up, nearly giving you whiplash as you turned to the side. You narrowed your eyes, the tall male standing just in front of where the sun was rising, shadow cast over his front. But you made out his light hair, glowing in the bright light, a halo cast around his head. His shoulders were so broad, his white shirt tight around his arms but loose around his waist, the fabric shifting as the wind blew past. He held a hand out to you, palm raised. 

Your gaze dropped to his waiting hand, which you gladly took. His skin was rough, calluses around his palms and over his fingers. He pulled you to your feet, almost too easily, and had you balancing over the pile of bricks and shingles. “Thanks,” you mumbled, releasing his hand and brushing the dirt off the bottom of your dress. No use - there were days old mud stains all over it already. 

“Is this your home?” His eyes surveyed the debris you both stood over, face still shadowed from the sun. 

You rolled your eyes. “It was,” you’d scoffed, propping your hands on your hips. The male frowned, his shoulders hunched a bit. You cocked a brow at him, at the rainy evergreen smell that cascaded off of him. His blond hair was unkempt, sun-frayed and tangled at the ends. You took a step closer, onto the large wooden beam that had just bested you. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, cheeks tinged pink, chin tilted downwards. Ashamed.

You nodded, standing taller, walking across the wood so you were positioned on the other side of him. The male turned with you, not allowing his back to face you. He mirrored you, perhaps in self defense, as you looked like you were the one scouting your prey. His features became sharper as he faced the sunrise, shadows looming over his face now washed away. 

Those emerald green eyes watched you carefully, narrowed, just like those from the forest. His sharp brows furrowed as he watched you assess him, as you put together the pieces rather quickly. 

“What would you be sorry for?” You questioned the High Lord. “Did you knock down my house?”

Tamlin didn’t respond, just stood in front of you, those light eyelashes caressing the tops of his high cheekbones as he blinked at you. His jaw clenched, tongue ran over the back of his sharp teeth as he mulled over something to say, only to come up short. 

You took his lack of response as an answer in the negative. “Then you have nothing to apologize for.” 

“I didn’t stop them,” he replied, voice hoarse. It was as though he hadn’t spoken in years, as if he’d spent far too long roaming the forest in his wolf form. His body was wracked with shame, remorse, and anguish. He didn’t feel the pain when he was outside his Fae form - he didn’t have to bear the anguish of witnessing what happened to his court while he disappeared into the brush. 

You nodded in agreement. And while you spent these past hundred years angry, just so frustrated at what had become of your life, you couldn’t find yourself to be upset with him. 

Your home had been destroyed, your family gone, everything from the life you once had stripped away entirely. But what could you do? The past had already come and gone, there was nothing you could do to change it. 

The male before you felt the opposite, though. His mind was reeling with the resurgence of the memories from the past century. The masks, his friend and former lover gone - ran away to the Night Court, to the male that had murdered his family - under the mountain, the war, the Cauldron. 

Gods, all of it was his fault.

His court was destroyed, but it wasn’t the war, it wasn’t the other High Lords infringing on his territory. No, it was all him. It was the lack of his presence in his court that destroyed it from the inside out. And looking at your face, the dirt smudged over your brow, your cheeks splotched from spending days in the sun without shelter, he’d wanted nothing more than to tuck his tail between his legs and disappear back into the woods. 

But you were too captivating, your gaze leveled him completely. You didn’t tear into him, didn’t yell at him, didn’t hit him, not the way he knew so many others wanted to. He didn’t know how to help you, how to apologize for abandoning his court. He didn’t have any money to give you, no doubt he assumed the Spring Court estate had been robbed and looted. He wasn’t sure what valuables were even left anyway, after passing on money and jewels to the Archeron family. 

“I’d like to help you…” Tamlin trailed off, the words lost. His eyes roamed over the fallen house the two of you stood on. “Rebuild.” His green eyes flitted back up to you, to the doubt and surprise laced over your features. You swallowed, shoulders shrugged in indifference. Gods, you probably hated him. Wanted nothing to do with him. “If you’ll let me.”

“I’m not sure what there is to rebuild,” you replied, kicking at some stone with your dirty boot. “I’m just looking for...” What were you looking for? “Anything.”

Tamlin nodded in understanding. He wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting to come back to, didn’t know what he would stumble upon after he’d returned to his home court. While he was no stranger to being alone, to feeling like an outcast, utterly unworthy of his position in life, he’d never been able to relate to his old friend Lucien so much. While the Vanserra had been banished from his home court, Tamlin felt like the Spring subjects would band together and exile him from his own court, too. 

But the male stood still, nothing but the wind blowing his tousled hair around his sharp jaw. He was surely waiting for you, for your permission to return to his life in Spring - a new life, perhaps: a chance to rebuild your home and his life. He needed to earn his place as the High Lord, hell - he needed to learn what it meant to be a leader, to earn the trust of the Spring citizens. 

“Well, help me move this, then,” you said simply, gesturing to the dark wood. 

You’d quickly come to realize the male just had pent up anger, stress that may have been best relieved by throwing stone and brick around. He was quiet, not speaking unless you’d ask him a question or give him direction to move some debris. Tamlin watched you carefully, just as he had the other night, eyes glossy and pointed, observing how carefully you tended to anything that may have once had value to you. But you hadn’t made much progress, finding just scraps of clothing, a broken necklace, or some rotten food. 

“I was in love once, too,” you stated out of nowhere. You kept digging through the pile of broken furniture and wood, head tilted downwards, eyes focused on the task at hand. 

Tamlin’s ears perked up and he straightened, wiping his hands on his trousers to remove some of the mud that had caked his palms. He wiped at his brow, the sweat that had built up over the past few hours. He wasn’t sure what to say, you gave him nothing to work off of, offering nothing but confusion for the poor male. 

You looked up at him only for a moment, plopping down on your ass with a sigh, resting your aching legs. “It can make you do some fucked up things.” 

He almost laughed, would have, if it didn’t burn his throat on the way up. “Even more fucked up things once you’re out of it.” 

The sound that pushed past your lips sounded like absolute heaven. It was the only salvation the male needed after years spent growling at beasts in the woods. The giggle that erupted from you - the pure surprise at the High Lord’s comment - it made his heart stop. 

But he couldn’t help the deep stabbing feeling through his gut. Guilt. He shouldn’t be enjoying the sweet sound of your laughter, the shine of the sun in your hair, your pretty smile. He shouldn’t enjoy life anymore, not after what he did to yours - to everyones. It was why he shut himself out, far in the thick Spring forest, away from all salvation, any shred of comfort he might have been able to find. After Feyre had left, after Rhysand returned to twist the knife in his once stone chest, there had been no point, no return at High Lord once everything had crumbled. 

“Well, Tamlin,” you sighed - the first time hearing his name on your lips. He quite liked the sound of it, but promised not to get used to it. “I think it’s about time we fix some of those fuck ups.”

He rolled his eyes, kicking a heavy log from the top of the pile. “And how do you suppose I do that?” 

You huffed another breathy laugh, raising your head and squinting up at him, the sun risen nearly fully in the sky. “You do nothing,” you replied simply, propping your elbows on your knees. “We are going into town.” You opened your palm, that broken gold necklace 

And Tamlin felt like folding himself in half and kneeling over that damn pile of rocks. The necklace you’d worked for hours to find ready to trade at the town center. He was absolutely sick. His mind flashed back to the days of the Tithe - how he sat atop his throne, gold jeweled crown atop his head, waiting rather impatiently for the Spring Court subjects to pay their dues. In a court where he did next to nothing to save them - after fifty years of looking for a way out of Amarantha’s plan - they still owed him. 

Tamlin had a lot of regrets. 

He didn’t know how to act, how to rule a court. Didn’t know how to save his people, how to make up for the lost years. 

There was a lot to make up for - he knew it better than anyone. 

He just didn’t know how.

You watched his mind reel, how his sharp green eyes fell to the pile of wooden scraps beneath his boots. His dark blond brows knitted together, lips pressed in a firm line, jaw clenched. His chest moved up and down with every breath he took, each one he forced in his lungs. The golden strands of his hair moved around his pointed ears, dancing over his shoulders in the wind. 

“I don’t think I can,” he replied, voice just above a whisper. 

You pushed yourself to your feet and reached out for him, for the tanned skin of his forearm. You held your fingers around his wrist, the touch shocking the male out of his daze. His breath caught, his mouth and throat suddenly ran dry. “You have to come back. You need to return to us.” 

He tried to force himself to swallow, to will his voice to work and reply. To us. He was the only one who could fix what he’d fucked up. He didn’t know exactly how, but you were right. It would start with the return of the High Lord, with the promise of forgiveness from his subjects. He’d have to beg for forgiveness, pray that they would grant him amnesty. 

He nodded though, which was all he could muster the strength for. He let you keep hold of his wrist - he didn’t even know how long it had been since another Fae had touched him - and guide him off the pile of debris, not missing how your boots skidded along the loose bricks. He reached out with his other hand to steady you, a firm hand on your hip as you stumbled to a halt, managing to remain upright. 

By the Cauldron, you felt good. Warm, delicate, you smelled like the gardens after a fresh rain. He dropped his hand just as quickly, before his mind really fell into the gutter. Perhaps the years of solitude had finally gotten to him, he thought. He had officially gone mad. So he stayed composed, letting you drop his wrist from your hand - not without a backward glance at him. 

“We’ll see what we can get,” you continued, beginning to walk towards the center of the town. You lived far enough on the outskirts that not many others passed by, none alerted to the fact their High Lord had returned. “The blacksmiths will probably be the only ones who will trade for it. Nobody really has use for gold anymore.” 

He noted the drop in your voice, the bleakness that laced your tone. Tamlin walked only a half step behind you, yet he towered over you, his chest cleared above your head, shadow fully engulfing you. “How is the food supply?”

You knew it felt foreign for him, especially to ask now after years of his disappearance into the woods. But you could tell he was trying, gathering his bearings and reassessing the court - where he needed to start first. “Not great, honestly. There are only a few who have enough weapons to hunt in the woods.” 

Tamlin knew all too well what lurked in the woods. They would be lucky if they could catch deer or rabbit, let alone an elk or mare. “I’ll see what I can manage to catch tonight,” he replied grimly, lips pressing into a frown. Under the moon was the best time to hunt, where there were surely no endangered Fae out, when the large beasts went to roam the woods, using the cover of night to avoid the hunters. The only thing that would be able to catch them lurked just behind you: a wolf. 

You eyed the clouds that began to roll in overhead, dimming the sun’s bright light. “That would help,” you replied, hoping the words of encouragement would ease his mind, but not sound too desperate that they scared the male. 

You walked the rest of the way in silence, peaceful albeit awkward. Tamlin’s fingers twitched at his sides - it was almost as though he barely remembered how to walk as a Fae male. You knew those green eyes that watched you from the forest were his. The second you saw the High Lord that morning, you realized you’d stared into his wolfish eyes - hungry and chilling, sad and remorseful. 

His gaze shifted from left to right constantly, walking through the clutter of buildings and broken wood. Half the buildings had been looted, some torn down entirely. Fae gathered around stands and what was left of the remaining shops. He felt their eyes burning into him, heard the murmuring ringing in his ears. Some were confused, others outright scared, but none approached him. 

You took Tamlin to the dim stone building, the only light pouring in from the window and cracks in the walls - no faelights or candles in sight. “He and his wife have the baked goods - there aren’t many other iron pans left in the town, he’s got the bulk of them.” Your eyes flitted around the shop, at the pile of iron ingots stacked on one of the tables. “I could never manage enough to get one, to bake my own bread over the fire.” You shot Talmin a sharp look, then eyed the shop owner across the room. “Good morning, Oleander,” you greeted the old male, hunched over a table lined with gleaming metal knives. 

The hairs on the High Lord’s neck stood, a chill running down his spine at the sight of the swords hanging on the wall, the bows and arrows piled in the corner. “(Y/N),” he replied gruffly. “What brings you in?”

You turned back to Talmin, getting eyes on the male to ensure he was still in toe. “I was wondering what you might give me for this gold.” You held the necklace out to him, the cracked pendant and broken chain gleaming in your dirty palm. 

“Ah,” he breathed, grabbing the necklace with his own filthy hand. “Given the condition, I’m afraid I can only give you…” He squinted at the old pendant, what seemed to be a depiction of the Mother with flowers braided throughout her hair. Tamlin’s mother once had a similar one. “Last week’s bread.”

“Old bread?” Tamlin couldn’t help but scoff, crossing his arms over his broad chest. 

The blacksmith’s eyes show up toward him, as if his eyes and ears deceived him. Oleander, clearly half blind, squinted at the High Lord. “Do you have an issue with my pricing?” He questioned Tamlin - who was certainly not used to the bite back from his subjects. “I think I’m being more than fair to the female.” He looked Tamlin up and down. 

“Fair?” Tamlin barked a laugh. “You own all of the weapons and food in the town and you’re telling me what’s fair?” He didn’t miss the sight of you backing up, right out of the corner of his eye. You inched towards the door, palms facing outwardly behind you, feeling as soon as your backside touched the door jam. Oleander stood, broad and burly, inching forward toward the both of you. By then, the shop had dimmed, dark clouds rolling over outside. The Fae had gathered around to watch, to see the High Lord for the first time in nearly decades. 

“Oh,” he laughed, standing, grabbing one of the polished knives. He raised his voice and stepped closer to Tamlin, cornering him out the door in the same direction you were fleeing. “The High Lord has returned to preach on decorum.” Tamlin dropped his hands to his sides, unclenched fists, not looking to start the physical fight, but prepared to defend himself. He could surely take the old male on easily, even if he had been armed with half the swords in his collection. “After years of abandonment, of leaving his people to suffer at the hands of the beasts, he’s come to exhort fairness and righteousness.” 

The Fae outside watched as you and Tamlin joined them outside the shop, many of their interests piqued at the sight of the golden haired male. 

“He’s back?”

“I thought he had died…” “He would be better off that way.”

“Never thought I’d live the day I would rather see Beron than him.”

“Shut up, he’s returned to help.” “No way - he’s just going to start the Tithe again.”

There were giggles amongst the murmuring crowd, laughing surely at the old Fae male that had the High Lord backing out of his shop. There were no words he could say to ease the crowd, to change their minds, to earn their trust. He wanted nothing more than to shift back into a wolf and hide away in the forest alone. 

“We didn’t come to make trouble, Oleander,” you spoke up calmly, empty hands raised in surrender. “He’s come to make peace.” 

He rolled his eyes, amongst another burst of whispering from the gathered crowd. “Peace,” he spat. “That’s what we all used to know before he abandoned us and left us for dead.” 

Tamlin’s jaw set, anger flashed through his eyes. There were some agreements exchanged by the other Fae. There were very few who sought to give their High Lord a second chance. 

Fuck, second or third? Or fourth chance? Tamlin couldn’t count. 

“We’re leaving, okay?” You inched closer to him, right until your shoulder pressed up against his bicep. “But please - ” you turned to face the crowd, what Tamlin could only assume were your friends, others you could consider almost family. “Please, just keep an open mind. If you’d been shunned, abandoned in the woods, you’d want us to accept you back.” There were a few nods, but many blank stares as you began walking away from the town, back towards the forest clearing. “No more hatred. We’ve had decades of spite, of shame.” Before you turned on your heel, before you grabbed Tamlin’s forearm to pull him away with you, you added: “Let us find peace again. Together: united as one court.” 

Fuck, Tamlin thought. You’d spoken all of the things he should have said. He wondered if you’d practiced that little speech, if one day you secretly hoped he’d come back so you could preach that very surmon. 

Tamlin pushed that thought far down in the depth of his mind. 

But perhaps Oleander had a point. Perhaps they would all be better off taking care of themselves without the rule of an artificial High Lord. They surely managed to come this far. It wasn’t like Tamlin would be able to protect the town himself - he’d have to rebuild armies before infrastructure, to guard the town from the forest before they could sift through the remains of the down. 

You’d dragged him along nonetheless, guiding him anywhere but the town. It was back toward your home - what remained of it, anyway. But the sky was grey by then, dark clouds shielding you both from the once bright sun. The soft crackle of thunder reverberated from the Summer Coast. “I’m - ” you cut yourself off with a sigh, dropping his arm, but continuing on your trek. “I’m not sure where we can get shelter for the evening. I don’t think anyone will let us stay for the storm.”

You were surely not on your way to make any amends, though. You just kept walking back towards your little plot of land, not that there was anywhere for you two to take cover until the rain washed away. 

Tamlin kept his eyes trained in front of him, not daring to spare a look at your shining eyes as he spoke. “Follow me.”

So you did. You almost didn’t recognize it, afterall, it had been almost a century since you’d walked that path. Nature had reclaimed most of it, the trail completely gone. Tamlin’s long legs stepped over vines and fallen logs, and he held your hand for balance as you followed in his footsteps - he’d even lifted you through particularly muddy patches, simply lifting you up and placing you down before him like you weighed nothing. 

The walk to his manor would have taken a mere half hour on horseback, perhaps just over an hour had the path remained. But it would take a few for the two of you to find your way back to the Spring Court Estate in the condition of the forest. Especially as the rain started to fall, the heavy droplets hard against your skin as they fell from the sky. 

You walked for what felt like the whole first half in silence. Nothing but the sound of Tamlin slicing thick leaves and branches, clearing what he could from the once barren path. You listened to the rain, to your own ragged breath as you struggled to keep up with the male. 

You watched his golden hair darken as it became damp with rain. His white linen shirt clung to his back and arms, you’d noted the ridges carved deep into his body as his muscles flexed, working around the forest that overtook the path. He slowed once the two of you stumbled upon a clearer area, falling into step beside you. 

You could feel the tension radiating from him, his fists were clenched at his side, the hairs on his arms stood up. He wasn’t used to wondering the woods as a Fae, hell - he hadn’t been in Fae form in years. Those woods felt all too familiar to him out of his wolf form, reminded him of all the times he’d fucked up in that very spot. He needed to distract himself, clear away the memories of his friend Lucien, his once lover, his newfound family. 

“I was in love once,” he said, voice gruff, muffled from the sound of the rain falling against the wide leaves. He repeated your sentiment from earlier - an acknowledgement of his past, perhaps even an apology. “But I’m pretty sure she was fucking my emissary.” 

You’d nearly choked. 

“That’s - uh - ” Gods, what do you say to that? 

He shrugged. “My feelings for her weren’t fake,” he continued, nonchalantly, as though he’d had nothing but time to come to terms with what had transpired. You supposed he did, though, and were sure that was the only thing on his mind. “I just didn’t know how to act.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to keep what little body heat you had, as the cold water sent shivers down your spine. 

He shrugged. “Someone ought to hear the truth - ” Tamlin paused, only for a moment, as his green eyes narrowed in on the estate before you both. Trees covered the once stony walls, vines and thick ivy woven up all the windows and over the balconies. “You seem to be the only one who will listen.”

“I don’t not believe you, Tamlin.” You let him lead the rest of the way, pushing past the thick brush that guarded you from the estate as you neared the large castle. “Sometimes people aren’t who you think they are.”

At that, Tamlin dipped his head, turning to the side only slightly, just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your solemn expression. The rain had dripped down your face, over the curve of your nose and over your cheeks. He admired the way they clumped on your eyelashes, how you didn’t have a care in the world all covered in rain - perhaps you had more important concerns. Much too worried about where you’d sleep that night, where you next meal would come from, if you’d have shelter from the beasts, than to worry about his sob story. 

But you caught his gaze from the corner of your eye, where you’d found those bright emerald eyes washing over your form. Shadows cascaded down his straight nose, his eyelashes nearly touching his cheekbones. You’d wondered if it was the wolf in him that gave him those long eyelashes and thick hair, his sharp teeth and chiseled jaw. He carried himself like a High Lord, shoulders back and chest puffed out - perhaps the closer he got to his home, the more normal he felt. It was a routine, the same path he’d often walked with his friends: Lucien, Bron, Alis, Hart, those that worked for him yes, but also the only ones he could consider truly his family. 

Tamlin used the small knife he had to cut though the thick vines over the stairs. He’d moved each of the fallen logs, twice as heavy because they were waterlogged, and cleared the pathway to the front doors. He wanted to create a wide opening, should you decide in the middle of the night that you’d want to escape - run away from him, from the court. He didn’t want you to feel like a prisoner - he scoffed to himself, he apparently had a knack for that. 

He’d opened the door for you, watching as you gathered the hem of your soaked skirts and your muddy boots squished against the stone steps. You nodded in thanks, unable to move your eyes away from the entryway. The ceiling was fully glass, and despite the rain and clouds, cast a looming light onto the marble walls and floors. The rain echoed in the walls, the fat droplets hitting the roof hard. The heavy curtains and canvases on the walls had been ripped to shreds, rock and stone cracked and scattered along the hallways. The grand staircase was broken, missing a few steps, the railing half gone. 

You wondered what war went on here, while Tamlin tried to forget exactly that. 

He hadn’t been to his home in years. But he knew what would be left to salvage, the rooms he’d lost the energy to tear completely apart. So Tamlin followed you in, guiding you down one of the corridors. “We should be able to find some blankets and clothes this way,” he said, voice just above a whisper. It was so deep that it vibrated in your bones, sending shivers down your freezing spine. 

He’d stirred you through the wide halls, pulling you away with a firm hand on your hip when you’d tried to move toward the great dining room. His hand was hot on your waist, right at the curve of your back as he pulled you one step closer to him. “Not that way.” His eyes were fixed on the mahogany doors, hiding whatever may lie beyond. While he was almost certain he’d left you with the idea there may be Naga or wolves or some other beasts beyond those walls, he didn’t want to correct you with the truth. The gross truth that that’s where he left the elk Rhysand brought him so long ago, no doubt rotted away and disintegrated into the table - that, or it would have been swept away by some creature, perhaps for food or simply to play with its carcass. Either way, he didn’t want to find out. 

There were holes in the roof, in the floors above, that leaked through the halls. You stepped around the puddles, dodging the stream of rain that fell from the ceiling. Tamlin pushed open one of the many doors in the long hallway, a dark bedroom on the other side. “It’s not my room, don’t worry.” 

You turned up to face him. He looked weary, uneasy being back in this estate. “I wasn’t worried, Tamlin.”

He released a breath, his chest visibly falling at your words. He followed you in, closing the door to shut out the cold that the rain had brought to Spring. He’d brought you to one of the guest rooms, never had been occupied by a member of his court. It went untouched during Tamlin’s rage, there had been no evidence of life to destroy. He’d managed to rummage around and quickly find some candles, digging through drawers and closets to find a dry book of matches. 

While Tamlin lit the room, you were drawn to the soft couch in the corner, pulling every blanket and piece of cloth you could find. Gods, it had been so long since you had a good night’s rest, since you sat on a plush sofa and had the softest blankets around you. But you had to wait. Your dress was soaked, you’d been dragging water and mud behind you that whole time. “Do you have any…” you trailed off with a sigh, assuming the male didn’t have any spare dresses lying around. 

You actually would be more concerned if he did. 

“There may be something,” he replied, picking up on your predicament. He sifted through the armoire again, the flickering candles aiding his search. He’d come up with some clothes, a few linen pants and loose shirts. He held everything out to you, a pile of clean fabric. 

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d worn clean clothes. Tamlin noted how your eyes widened, like you’d hit the jackpot, like you’d never seen pajamas before - clean clothes. He cursed himself once again for cursing his people, for abandoning them and forcing them to live in destroyed homes and a looted town. 

You pulled a handful of clothes from his offering, your wet skin crying out for warmth. “There’s a bathing chamber that way.” He nodded to the door far off in the corner. “Doubt there’s any water but…” he trailed off with a shrug. 

“Thank you,” you replied, legs practically begging to take you to the bathroom and change into the pajamas. So you’d scurried away, grabbing a candle to light your way into the bath chamber. The mirror was cracked, covered in dust. But you quickly shucked off your wet dress, grabbing the shirt from the pile and wiped yourself dry, wringing out your hair in the fabric. You pulled on the next shirt, the huge cotton long-sleeve that fell halfway down your thighs. No doubt it had been designed for the High Lord, perhaps even his emissary. But you’d take what you could get, throwing on another shirt for warmth, then the linen pants. You fisted the waist, pulling one of the strings from your dress bodice to tie the pants snugly around your waist. 

Through the dirty mirror, you made out the dark circles under your eyes, your tired eyes and wild hair. You suppressed a sigh, too tired to care one bit. So you returned to the drawing room, finding the High Lord in a fresh set of clothes as well.

He was trying to busy himself, sifting through the pile of blankets you’d managed to create, even adding a few more to your pile. He didn’t want to be rude, to fall onto the soft couch or bed without first making sure you were taken care of. 

His heart stopped when he turned, seeing you swimming in the Spring Court clothing, even just those too-large pajamas. You looked so relieved, so comfortable and, honestly, ready to pass out for the evening. So he cleared his throat: “You can have the bed.” It was all he said, added a head nod towards the other end of the room, where the mattress was, nothing but some sheets atop it. “I was going to give you these.” He gestured to his pile of blankets. All the soft looking ones in one pile, the thin scratchy material separated behind him. 

“We can share the bed, no?” You made your way toward him and grabbed an armful of the blankets he’d folded. “We could both use the nice bed, I’m sure. I imagine it’s been longer for you than me.”

Tamlin cocked a brow, watched as you trudged over to the bed, dumping everything atop it. “I’ve managed just fine.” 

You glanced over your shoulder at the male. “Bring those other ones,” you called out, ignoring her words. “We’ll probably need them if this rain doesn’t let up.”

Tamlin shook his head to himself but did as told, not in the mood to argue with the female, especially not the beautiful one wearing his clothes. So he brought over the rest of the blankets, even the scratchy ones, and helped you make the bed. It was haphazard, sure, some of them not big enough to cover the whole bed, a patchwork of covers, some yours, some his, then the ones stitching you together down the middle. 

You climbed in immediately. 

The sigh you let loose from your lips almost had Tamlin on his knees before you. Your back cracked when you laid down, plush mattress cushioning your spine in a way you hadn’t felt in a long while. You slept on the hard wooden planks of your neighbor’s floor since your house had been torn down, freezing and stiff. You hadn’t remembered the last time you’d had a full nights rest. 

The same went for the male beside you. He’d been holed up in some cave on the Spring-Autumn border, where the wind whistled past and the cold seeped through the rock into his bone. His thick golden fur only did so much to protect him from the chill. He was surprised he hadn’t gotten himself killed out there, and he didn’t even want to think about everything he himself had killed in those past years. 

“What made you come back?” Your soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts, he blinked a few times before pulling the covers back and joining you on the opposite end. He was careful to leave space, to not encroach. His palms caught on the scratchy fabric of the blanket he’d laid on his half, calluses hard and broken, left from his many years of tearing apart flesh with his paws. 

“I was tired of being a coward,” he replied humbly. “I ran away from everything that happened. Pretended like it never happened and shut myself away.” He ran a hair through his half-dried hair, fingers getting tangled at the ends. 

“You were alone?” It was a cross between a question and a statement, he wasn’t sure which you were going for - probably the former. 

“I’ve been alone my whole life. Everyone I come across either leaves or tries to kill me.”

He felt you turn, shift on your side to gaze at him with what little light remained of the candle. Tamlin kept his eyes trained on the covers above him, unable to face the pity that probably laced your features. “Did they try to kill you?” Your voice shook, afraid to even ask the question, terrified of the response. 

He offered you a half shrug. “They left…willingly,” he’d added, mulling over the words in his head. “Though I suppose I not-so-willingly let them. I don’t know how to keep friends, it seems.”

“I suppose that’s better than the other option.”

Them killing him. “Better when it’s not your own family, too.” It was no secret the previous High Lord had a knack for starting wars, for sending his sons to fight his battles for him. Tamlin had a reputation far before his powers even matured - his brothers’ even more so. But what you didn’t know was that they were ready to kill him the instant he matured into a stronger male. He wasn’t glad they were dead, but he was glad he was safe - even if only for a little while. He had found few friends before the curse, a lover afterwards, even. But just like his father and brothers, he could not show love, no matter how hard he willed it, he kept fucking up. 

That’s what it felt like, at least. He supposed he was the jester of the Spring Court in the end. The friends he’d had and the lies they told him: you never made me feel like a prisoner - her voice rang in his head. Soon they were gone, twisting the opposite tale to the male that murdered his family. Nothing could be forgiven in Prythian, no reconciliation to be made between courts. There was no coping, no help from his friends, no one to confide in. So he did the only thing he knew how: shut himself out. Just like he had his former lover, keeping her safe in that very estate. 

He kept every Fae who remained in Spring safe from himself, even if that meant casting himself into the woods. 

You shifted only a bit, but close enough that you reached over and tucked your soft blanket around his shoulders, over his chest that had nearly gone cold from the rain and chill outside. You were close enough that Tamlin could pick up on your flowery scent, that he noted the small hint of honey and cherry blossom lingering along your skin. 

It had been so long since he’d touched another Fae, since he felt someone care for him. He couldn’t help it - his head fell onto your shoulder, right where the crook of your neck met your collarbone, a perfect fit for the crownless male. “And how have you fared, Tamlin? Now that you are a free male?”

Free. 

Free from what? From his duties as a High Lord, surely he’d abandoned them years ago, letting the Naga and the beasts of the Spring Court take over the sacred land. Free from Amarantha’s glamor, the shackles she’d chained him with under the mountain? Free from the binds she kept on his mind, the nightmares - memories - he relived each evening? 

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be free from it. 

He didn’t know how to cope. Not when the only people he’s ever cared about left. Not when his best friend left him when he clearly needed the most help, not when his lover left to wed his mortal enemy, then bare his child. But he apologized to her, for all the trauma he must have caused, locking her away, fearful of who else from Prythian would come to spite him by taking away the female he loved, by he saving her mate. 

He cursed himself. Surely, someone ought to have a happy ending. Might as well have been her. 

He was upset, in fact. When it all came down to it, everything was traced back to his anger. He was blind to his own emotion, it’s what caused him to act without thinking - a strategy he’d never seemed to master, not like the other High Lords. It ended up causing him his newfound family, his Court, it got the Archeron sisters caught and thrown into the Cauldron, it spurred the war. He was a failure, he’d lost the Spring Court and his pride alongside it. He’d been played like that godsdamned fiddle. 

And Tamlin let himself lie in that dark cave night after night, rotting in a lifetime of regret. 

He could only shake his head, nose rubbing against your skin that poked out from the loose collar of your  - his - shirt. “I swear I will rebuild the Court, (Y/N),” he whispered, breath warm on your skin. His lips just barely touched your skin as he spoke. “I promise it, I’ll run the beasts out and fix the mess I’ve made. Even if nobody believes me, if they’ve lost all faith in me.”

Your hand fell downwards over the blanket you’d placed over him, fell down the soft fabric over his chest. “Actions, not words.” He tilted his head up, and those deep green eyes met yours instantly. His gaze washed over your face, over the sheer determination and strength, but in utter admiration as you spoke. “Show them.”

You lifted your hand, fingers twitching in hesitancy, but your mind worked too fast. You brushed your hand over his cheekbone, over the strong jaw and tanned skin. He nearly shivered, nearly broke out in a godsdamned sob. 

Tamlin was fighting to keep his emotions intact, to stop himself from absolutely crumbling apart in the safety of your arms. He slowly shifted upright, sitting beside you, back against the headboard just as you sat. You never moved your hand, save for your thumb running over his cheek, tracing where the light stubble had grown in over his jaw and cheek. 

His own hand fell to your hip, safely above the covers. But the added weight of him caused the shift, the simple weight of his large hand on you sparked something inside of you. 

So you leaned in. 

You didn’t know what it was. If it was the fact you’d hadn’t been held in years, the fact you laid in bed together, cold from the rain and nearly out of candles. If it was the fact that he’d opened up for what probably was the first time ever, the male with the worst reputation - his ill temper, his tendency to fight, how godsdamned beastly was - laid out and vulnerable in your arms. 

Your lips met his softly, a firm enough kiss where you felt equally matched, as if he, too, was waiting for you to do it; but soft enough that he would pull back if you did, that he would restrain himself from going further, should you realize you’ve made a mistake. 

You did the opposite, though, barely breaking away for breath, parting your lips just enough to gasp for air before pushing against him once more. Your hand raked through his long hair, so Tamlin had no choice but to do the same. His fingertips wove through your own hair as his hand rose from your hip to cradle your jaw, tilting your head to the side. 

He tasted sweet, not what you were expecting from the male whose scent lingered with the sultry forest and fresh morning dew. He was gentile, too. His tongue moving only to trace your bottom lip, nothing more. Your lips moved over each other in sync, breathing in tandem and letting those soft sighs escape between the two of you.

You pulled him closer, winding your other arm around his neck as you laid back, sliding further onto the bed where he had to drop a hand beside you to hold himself up. But he kissed you anyway, like you were the last breath of life for that dying male. 

Perhaps you were giving him life, that spark he needed to reignite the male inside of him who he once was. 

Your hand trailed down his chest as he continued deepening the kiss, lips moving quickly over yours, growing hungrier, more desperate. You fisted at his loose shirt, not even bothering to untie it, just slipped your hand underneath from the bottom where it hung so loosely from his body. His abdomen shivered under your touch, your fingertips tracing the hard rigid muscle. Tamlin sighed against your mouth, trying (and failing) to suppress the groan that built up in the back of his throat. 

So he’d pulled away, the sound of your lips parting from his loud and wet, a sound he’d practically forgotten about over the past decades spent alone. His forehead dropped against yours and you felt the tickle of his hair against your cheek. “I can’t - I’ve already caused too much destruction. I’ll hurt you.”

It didn’t feel real - he had to stop himself, break free of the dream he was surely living in. Another female, not only giving him the time of day, but who cared for him without even knowing him. He huffed a loose laugh, and muttered to himself: “I’m going mad.”

His lips were still far too close to yours. They barely touched as you spoke. “Take it out on me.” You tilted your jaw up, just barely high enough to capture his lips with yours. “I can take it, Tamlin.”

He shivered, I’ve heard that before. “I don’t want you to have to.”

You peered up at him where he gazed down adoringly at you, from underneath those long light eyelashes of his. He’d bent down for one more kiss, all his passion put behind that one last time of your lips pressed together. 

He only pulled away when he ran out of air. 

He slotted down beside you, his arm curled under your shoulders, the other crossed above the blankets, the piles of soft and scratchy ones, and fell over your bodies to rest on your hip. You fell asleep with your face buried in his chest and your arm flung around him, dreaming of the promise tomorrow held. 

[achaotichuman]

Stupid little fanfic idea

Lucien- *Minding his own business.*

Tamlin- *Very drunk, stumbles into Lucien and falls into his lap. Cuddles him while demanding, “Stroke my hair and tell me I’m pretty!”

Lucien- *Was having a conversation with Helion. Now has to cuddle Tamlin* “You’re very pretty, I love you very much.”

Tamlin- *Purrs and cuddles into Lucien tighter.*

Helion- “Is he always like this?”

Lucien- *Trying to manoeuvre Tamlin into a more comfortable position.* “You have no idea. I love him though.”

[rosanna-writer]

throwing this out there because IDK if I'll actually write it, but rereading the first ACOTAR book with the lens of it being a horror story has got me thinking...

what if Feyre wasn't the first mortal Tamlin kidnapped to try and break the curse? like IMAGINE if we got a spooky scene where she's creeping around the manor and puts it together that she's not the first mortal girl who's been snatched and the last one met a bad end but Feyre doesn't know about the curse so she doesn't know why...

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Nothing big in this one. Memory loss?? Overprotectiveness?? Azriel losing it (but not that much just yet)??

a/n: Hi this is going to be a series :) thank you for reading <3

Part 2 ♡

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

As you blinked through the haziness, a dull throb echoed along the base of your skull. You sat up abruptly, feeling rocks and twigs digging into the backs of your legs, and winced as several shouts attacked your senses. You recognized none of them.

Gods, your head hurt. 

A few more blinks and the sun made an appearance, light assaulting your too-sensitive eyes. The leaves beneath your hands crunched and blew away in the balmy breeze, a few flecks of green still stuck to your palm as you brought it up to rub your head. 

“Don’t,” a feminine voice warned, and it was then that you pinpointed one of the shouts from earlier. But it was warmer now, calm. “Don’t touch your head, y/n. Azriel and Cas are getting help.”

You scrunched your face up but obeyed the command, taking steady breaths to try and manage the pain. The woman in front of you—blonde hair, brown eyes, a fierce expression—was like no one you had ever seen before. She was so incredibly beautiful you weren’t sure if you were actually awake. 

You took a pause. 

And then another. 

Who was the last person you had seen? 

“Where am I?” you asked instead, trying to appear sane. Your voice sounded unfamiliar. 

The woman’s expression pinched. “You’re in Spring Court. You remember that, don’t you? Rhysand sent us.” 

“Rhysand?” you repeated, the name foreign on your tongue. “Sent us for what?” 

“Well, we were supposed to be rallying Tamlin into re-fortifying his borders to win back the Summer Court’s good graces, but that beast is an idiot. Forging agreements with witches was quite possibly the worst move he could have made.” 

“Witches?” 

“I know, unbelievable,” the blonde ranted, sitting back on her heels beside you. “We came to help only to find out he had helped himself to the wicked. I knew he was distraught after Feyre, but to turn to this?” 

The pounding in your head was making it increasingly difficult to follow the tale the woman was spinning. Perhaps if you had more backstory, more information, you would understand what she was talking about. 

Desperate for that connection, you winced as you asked, “Um, not to offend, but… who are you?” 

Her aggravated expression crumpled into one of shock and concern. Her mouth parted, her brows came together at a point, and then she shifted, bringing her hands to your shoulders. When you flinched at the touch, the woman pulled her hands back, her fingers curling into her palms. “You don’t recognize me?” she asked, trepidation lining her tone. 

You shook your head, immediately regretting the action as pain shot up your neck. 

“Not at all?” she whispered. When your face remained blank, she pulled her hands into her lap. “Do you know who you are?” 

Another lapse in silence. 

“My Gods…” 

Darkness materialized nearby—swirling darkness. It reminded you of shadows and brought you a sense of peace for the first time since you opened your eyes. 

But then people started emerging from the darkness, taking up space in the vast forest, and that peace collapsed. Two large men with wings stomped against the twig-covered floor, causing a raucous disturbance as they began hurrying an older woman out from behind them. They both spoke in low, rushed tones and you wanted all the sound to stop. 

You ignored the woman’s directions from before and squeezed your head in your hands, your eyes snapping shut. It didn’t work, and you hadn’t expected it to, but Gods did your head hurt. It hurt and it was plagued by an impossible pressure that wouldn’t seem to let up.

“Mor, how long has she been awake?” one of the men asked. You felt him kneel beside you, felt him place rough, textured hands on your wrists in an attempt to pry your hands down. But he was gentle—so very gentle. 

“Azriel, she—” 

“Mor, if you could move aside. I need to look at her,” a much older voice chimed in. 

There was shuffling around you, new hands pressing to your face. You heard whispering that you couldn’t make out, and then the panic set in. 

You didn’t know these people. When you first woke up, the disorientation was focal; you were concerned about the pounding in your head and your whereabouts and that was it. But there were so many people here now, and you didn’t know any of them. 

You didn’t know who you were. Did they know who you were? They had to. 

“Majda, stop. You’re scaring her,” the man beside you, Azriel you’d heard him be called, practically hissed. 

Majda only hummed. “I am doing the job you brought me here to do. If I can’t work around a mating bond I will send you away, Shadowsinger.” 

Your breath came out in faster huffs, each one deeper than the last. You opened your eyes to try and gain some footing in the situation, still keeping your hands glued to your head. 

Your gaze went out before it went in, and you saw the blonde woman, Mor, beside a much larger man. His shoulder-length hair was messy and windswept, and he sent you a bittersweet, sympathetic smile that you couldn’t replicate. He watched with furrowed brows as your eyes darted from him, to Mor, to the wide forest around you. 

“I still don’t see why we couldn’t take her home first,” the man standing by the trees grumbled. “She would be more comfortable there.”  

“We didn’t want to move her with a head injury,” Azriel growled. “Not one from a witch.” 

His voice sent your attention towards him. Azriel was on his knees beside you, holding your wrists with his thumb circling the back of your hand in delicate strokes. He was painfully beautiful and you were left to wonder, yet again, if you were truly awake. When your gazes met, something foreign pulled at your ribs and the pressure sent an unexpected scream past your lips. You hunched over in a panic, yanking yourself away from those beside you.

That wasn’t right. None of this felt right. 

The older woman, Majda, cursed, staring after you as you pushed yourself further and further away. Each movement sent a new ache aflame in your head, but that didn’t stop you because you needed to get away. Your feet kicked up dirt and rocks and your hands tore with the effort but this wasn’t right. 

Azriel reached you before you could hit the tree just inches from your back. He held your head in his own hands and locked you in his gaze, keeping you trapped in the yellows and browns and the flecks that joined them. He took exaggerated breaths, wings flared out to block out the sun, and then he began whispering. 

It took a moment for you to understand the words, your heavy breaths mostly drowning them out. 

Something swished in the distance. More whispering, more secrets. 

“You’re okay. I’ve got you.” 

When Azriel’s voice finally came through, it was like a lifeline. 

“I’m here, my love. You’re safe. I know it hurts, I know.” 

It was odd, finding peace in a stranger. The shadows that seemed to dance around him swirled into shapes that framed your skin, and some of the panic felt foolish in their presence. They twisted and curved, somehow amplifying the cool tone of Azriel’s voice as he promised you things you had no capacity to understand. 

But he never stopped talking, not even when your gaze left his to follow his shadows instead. If anything, the action seemed to spur on the small beings more, and you wondered—for a brief moment—if he was controlling them. 

Something like amazement seeped into your panic as you whispered, “Who are you?” 

You didn’t know the man in front of you, that much was true, but he looked so… broken at your words. Something akin to pain clashed with his beautiful features as his jaw clenched to an unnatural degree. You were surprised that his teeth didn’t crack beneath the pressure. You wondered what else he could withstand—what atrocities he’d seen to make his eyes turn so dark when you spoke your words out loud. 

“No,” Azriel growled, chin hooking over his shoulder. His wings pulled back to reveal a new man, but this one looked slightly different from the others. No wings, different eyes. “You stay out of her head, Rhysand.” 

Rhysand. He was the one that had sent you here.

The concern on Rhysand’s face looked unnatural, like it didn’t belong there. “Az, it could help. Let me help her.” 

“You could make it worse. We have no idea what that witch did to her.” As Azriel spoke, shadows began to cover you more and more. Your sight became dim, your body camouflaged in darkness. 

“Looking in could be the only way to figure that out.” The next bout of silence was uncomfortable. The pounding in your head persisted, exacerbating to the point of tears along your waterline. “I know what you’re feeling, Azriel. I get it. But I want to help her, brother. You know I would never hurt her.” 

A twig snapped beneath a boot.

Azriel growled low in his chest. 

The pounding gave way to a sharp pain, and it made your senses lighter, less focused. 

You couldn't remember ever passing out before, but you thought it might feel like this. 

“Stay away from her.” 

“She doesn’t remember you, Azriel.” 

A choked breath. “Don’t touch my mate.” 

Darkness that surpassed the shadows finally granted you a reprieve from the pain. 

Maybe you'd wake up and this would all make sense.

Part 2 ♡

[marvelsmylife]

Second Choice Part 2

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Plot: After three months apart from Azriel, you decide to pay Elain a visit in the spring court and make a discovery of your own

A/n I’m putting up a poll on which high lord you want to cause trouble in this relationship. Tamlin or Helion. Vote here

Second Choice Masterlist

You stayed at Rhysand’s cabin for three months and refused to talk to Azriel, no matter how persistent he was. Rhysand had to create wards to keep Azriel from entering the cabin. While Feyre and Nesta thought Rhysand was being extreme with his actions, Cassian, Mor, and Amren thought he made the right call.

It’s a good thing he did that because every day, at the same time, Azriel would show up with a present for you. It would vary from day to day. Some days, it was jewelry, other days it would be flowers and pastries from your favorite bakery. 

A letter would be attached to every present he brought you. He would beg for forgiveness in each letter and promise you were the only one he loved and that he was willing to wait for you, no matter how long it took. 

You would burn all the letters and leave all the presents he gave you outside the cabin before crawling back into your bed cry yourself to sleep.

It wasn’t until one day you decided to travel to the spring court to talk to Elain. You needed to know if anything happened between her and Azriel at the beginning stages of your established relationship.

Rhysand was more than happy to take you to the spring court. He felt like you needed to get away from the night court for a while, and while he despised the spring court, he would travel there for you. “I know you’re still furious with Azriel, and rightfully so, but he really is sorry about everything, and he does love you,” Rhysand commented when you arrived at the spring court.

“I know, but I can’t even think about forgiving him until I hear Elain’s side, and even then, I still have doubts. I mean, does he genuinely love me, or is it only because of the bond,” you replied and looked over at Elain and Lucien’s estate.

Rhysand knew you were right and that you had the right to know the truth. “Let me know when you’re ready to go. I’m going to pay Tamlin a little visit while I’m here.” Rhysand was gone before you had a chance to respond.

Turning your attention back to the beautiful estate, and noticed a clearly pregnant Elain waddling over to you. “Y/n! It’s so nice to see you again,” Elain had a radiant smile on her face and excitedly hugged you when she finally reached you, “It’s been too long.”

“I know ! !! I didn’t even know you were pregnant,” you smiled back before gesturing to her bump, “How far along are you?”

Elain had a bright smile on her face as she cradled her baby bump, “Seven months. Come, we have so much to catch up on, and Lucien just finished setting up the dining room so we can eat lunch,” Elain looped her arm with yours and started walking towards her house.

After an hour of eating and catching up, you were all seated in their living room and decided to bring up the reason you were there. You explained what you discovered three months ago and wanted to know if she and Azriel were involved while your romance was still new.

“I will be frank, there was a brief moment when I thought about being in a relationship with Azriel, but nothing physical ever happened between us.” Elain turned towards her mate, “And I’m so thankful that nothing happened. Being with Lucien is the best thing to ever happen to me. I didn’t know true love until I accepted the mating bond and fully gave myself to him.”

You envied the way Elain and Lucien looked at each other. Nothing but love and adoration in their eyes. It was so precious it made you sick. Wait, no. You were actually nauseous, “Where is your bathroom? I’m going to be sick,” you asked and shot up from your seat.

Elain quickly ushered you to the nearest bathroom, and you proceeded to throw up for the next several minutes. “I’m so sorry Elain. I don't know what’s wrong with me. I’ve been feeling sick these past few weeks,” you apologized and rinsed your mouth.

“It’s ok. In my first trimester, I was throwing up a lot. Poor Lucien had to hear it every night. Don’t worry, it’ll pass,” Elain tried to comfort you, but you looked over at her wide-eyed, “You do know you’re pregnant, right?”

When you didn’t answer, Elain just hugged you and caused you to start sobbing. Realization hit you that you were pregnant and had to tell Azriel he was going to be a father.

@sidthedollface2 @crazylokonugget @cleverzonkwombatsludge @vhjlucky13 @fxckmiup @sheblogs @isa1b2h3

[azrielsdove]

The High Lords: Rhysand x Tamlin!sister!reader

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Fighting, Light mentions of violence

Part 2

***

You knew this was wrong.

You knew what your brother would do.

You knew you shouldn’t be enjoying this.

You knew to stay far, far away from the High Lord of the Night Court.

But you did not care as his hands slid up your skin and his lips pressed to yours.

***

Life at the Spring Court was simple. You spent most of your days in the gardens around your estate, often hiding from your slightly overprotective brother. As much as you love him, he tends to react to anything that happens to you a tad aggressively. You understood his fear comes from losing the rest of your family and that he was naturally going to be careful with you. You just wished he would relax a little more and trust you to take care of yourself.

The biggest issue recently has been that of any potential suitors. He realizes you need more to life than strolling the gardens, and had graciously arranged for you to meet all eligible bachelors. Chosen by him, of course.

Not that you even wanted that.

Sure, you had noticed a select few males on the rare nights you went to the village. You felt the desire for touch and for love like anyone else. Unfortunately, your romantic heart craved the mate connection. You knew it was rare and the chances of you having one were low, though that didn’t stop you from dreaming about who he could be.

Once Tamlin got the idea that you should be married in his head, he would not let go of it. Countless arguments had passed between the two of you, with no progress made in your favor. Your last one was particularly nasty, ending with you yelling that you might as well marry Lucien if all Tamlin cared about was marrying you off.

You hadn’t spoken since.

Of course, marrying Lucien wouldn’t be so bad. You would be lying if you said you didn’t notice how handsome he was, and how kind he was to you. He wasn’t your mate though. You suppose if it came down to it you could definitely do worse. And oh, how it would anger Tamlin. His emissary, his best friend, your husband. Often Lucien would flirt with you in front of Tamlin, just to see him get upset. Though as much as you delighted in that game, your heart will always long for more.

***

Calanmai. The biggest night of the year in the spring court. You look forward to it every year, to the dancing and the music and the wine. You carefully selected your dress months ago, and have been preparing everyday leading up to it. You felt like this year was extra special, something big was going to happen.

Until Tamlin tells you he doesn’t want you to go.

The anger that rose in you was unlike anything you had ever felt. “You can NOT keep me from going. You may be my brother but you will not control what I do!” You shouted at him, your whole body shaking. Tamlin shuffled the papers he was reading and spoke without looking at you, “It is my job to keep you safe. Calanmai is not safe for you. Dangerous faries come, and you know what they tried to do last year.” You let out a groan of frustration. Last year a group of males had tried to take you away into the darkness of the wood. Lucien was there immediately to get them away, barely allowing them to leave within an inch of their lives. You can’t say that event didn’t unnerve you, but you would be wiser this year. He couldn’t hide you away forever.

“Lucien and I have a plan this year! He will stay with me the whole time. It will be fine!” You shot back, not willing to take no as an answer. Tamlin slammed his papers down and looked up at you. “No. Lucien doesn’t need to babysit you all night. He deserves a day off as well.” Your mouth dropped open at that. “Babysit?! Babysit! If you would just let me train, I could keep myself safe and no one would have to worry! You are going to be the cause of my death if you don’t sto-“ your words were cut off by your brothers yell of “Enough!”. He stood and walked over to you, grabbing your arms. “You. Will. Not. Go. Do you understand me? I am your High Lord, you will obey me. You have no idea what could happen out there.” His hands tightened on you when you started to pull away. “Fuck you, Tamlin. Fuck you.” You spat as you tore out of his grasp and ran from his study.

You felt the tears, hot and angry, spilling down your cheeks. You ran out of the manor into the dark night without having any plan of where you were going. You wanted to run away, to leave your brother and start over. Too caught up in your own mind, you didn’t notice the shape rapidly approaching you until you crashed straight into a hard chest. Arms quickly wrapped around your waist and you looked up into Lucien’s familiar face. You watched as he took in your tears and his eyes flashed with rage. “He told you you couldn’t go, didn’t he?” he spoke, hardly above a whisper. You could only nod as you folded into him, letting your sobs out. He ran a soothing hand across your back, pressing a kiss to your hair. “I’m so sorry. I tried to argue with him, but you know how it is.” He pulled away to look down at you. “Do not give up, my sweet flower. All hope is not lost. Why do you think I was out here so late?” He asked with a twinkle in his eye.

You allowed Lucien to lead you back home, drying your tears. He walked you to your room to ensure you avoided Tamlin, telling you to wait for him tomorrow. He would give you his plan then.

***

The next day you carefully got ready, not wanting Tamlin to notice what you were doing. The last thing you needed was him discovering your plan to sneak off to Calanmai. Lucien had returned early this morning to tell you what he had planned. He knew Tamlin would lose focus and would forget to even care if you came or not. Lucien was going to head down with Tamlin as normal, and once he was able to slip away he would come back for you. You would sneak out one of the back entrances, avoiding any guards Tamlin may have left. Once you were at the celebration, no one would be sound enough to realize you weren’t supposed to be there.

You pulled your dress out as excitement curled up your spine. The light, flowing green fabric covered you right where you needed it to, the fabric turning sheer as it floated around you. You gazed at yourself appreciatively in the mirror, knowing this look was your best. When Lucien finally came to collect you, he hesitated for a second as he looked you over. “You look…beyond beautiful.” He finally said, holding his arm out for you. You gladly took it and you two were off.

It was extremely easy to escape the manor without being caught, as any guard left had abandoned their post for the celebration. You smiled at the lucky fact, pace increasing the closer you got to the fires. You grabbed Lucien’s hand and took off running, laughing as you raced down the hills. Once you were there, you expertly slipped through the crowd until you could grab a glass of fairie wine. You moaned as the delicious taste went down your throat, thankful you were able to make it. You pulled Lucien in for a hug and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you,” you whispered as you let go. He only nodded before stepping a short distance away, hoping that if Tamlin saw him he wouldn’t see you.

You mingled into the crowd, dancing with anyone you found. You had several more glasses of wine until you felt like you were floating across the ground. Soon, it was time for Tamlin to choose who he would bed that night. You can’t say you enjoyed this part, and you typically took this opportunity to slip off into the trees for a while. You grabbed another glass of wine and went off, not too far to be in danger but far enough you didn’t have to hear your brother with his female of the night.

You leaned against a tree as the cool night air swirled around you. The dancing and drinking had made you quite warm, and the breeze was a welcome feeling. You stood there quietly for a few minutes, connecting with the nature around you.

Until you felt it.

Something in your chest pulled as darkness began to swirl around you. You shot up from your tree, eyes wide as you looked around. You were about to yell for Lucien when you heard someone say, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” You turned to find the most devilishly handsome male you had ever seen.

“Oh,” was all you said as you took in the familiar face in front of you. He smirked down at you, laughter in his voice, “Do you not remember me, darling?” He stepped closer, boxing you into the tree. His head lowered to yours, violet eyes staring holes into you. “Tamlins sweet younger sister, out here in these woods all alone. Tut tut. Doesn’t he know how dangerous it can be out here?” His words rushed over you, heat rising through your body. You should feel scared, you should be fighting, you should be running and screaming. Yet you don’t want to.

“Rhysand.” You finally say, noting the High Lord of the Night Court is who is in front of you. “Tamlin will not be pleased that you are here.” He pulled his head back and let out a laugh as he moved away from you. “He never is.” He says, eyes bright. You can’t help the smile that comes as you tease, “It’s been quite some time, Rhysand. Have you been hiding from me?” Something flashes through his eyes at your words and before you can breathe he has his body pressed to yours again. “Oh, my darling. Did you miss me?” He murmurs as his lips trace your cheeks. You feel that heat rise through you again, your hands fisting his top. “Why are you back now?” you asked, looking up at him. His eyes show something you can’t read before he says, “I felt like paying my dear old friend a visit. It helps that he has such a delicious sister for me to see as well.” His hands tighten around you as your cheeks flush red.

You had always enjoyed Rhysand when he came. Usually he came to argue with Tamlin about something, but he always stopped and spoke with you. You two had developed a secret friendship over the years, one even Lucien didn’t know about. You and Rhysand had much more in common than you thought. After every visit, Tamlin would find you to rant about how terrible he was and to always stay away from him. You knew there was more history between them than what you were told. Unfortunately, no one would tell you what it was. So you quietly spoke with Rhysand, enjoying when you saw him. It had been quite some time since he had graced the Spring Court. You were curious as to why he came now. It certainly wasn’t to meet with your brother, not tonight. Why else would he be here?

“Why now? I’ve called for you many times, Rhys. I began to think you abandoned me.” You spoke the words lightly, but the hurt shown in your eyes. He ducked his head almost in shame, eyes blazing as he looked at you. “I did not mean to, darling. It is not so easy for me to show up here without good reason. Things have been rather peaceful in recent years, and I couldn’t figure a way to sneak here without creating problems. I never abandoned you though. I have always kept watch.” There’s a smile hinting at his lips as your mind races to figure out what he meant. You gasp and shove him away from you. “You! You dirty pig! You’ve been able to spy on me with that?!” You try not to yell, hand going to the small eye on your hip. You and Rhys had made a deal long ago, early in your friendship, to always trust the other. You had been desperate for a friend then, and you knew it was a bad idea to get mixed up with him.

Rhys chuckled, hands up in surrender. “Not always! Just when I can feel that you are extra upset. It’s how I know he wasn’t going to let you come tonight. I felt the fight you had, and your anguish. I had to make sure you were okay.” You felt your heart grow soft at his words. You held your arms out, beckoning him to come back to you. He gladly wrapped himself back around you, holding you tight. “I missed you Rhys.” You whispered into his chest, squeezing him tighter. “And I missed you, darling girl.” You rose your head to look at him, enjoying the way the moonlight washed over his face. You knew he was handsome, but tonight he was even more so. His hands lightly traced up your back and a shiver went through your body. You noticed the way his eyes darkened, the way the air around you changed.

“I know he’s trying to marry you off.” Rhys spoke suddenly, the coldness in his words shocking you. You nodded once, saying “I told him I might as well marry Lucien. That I don’t want anyone he has chosen for me.” He laughed at that, “I assume he did not take that one well.” You shook your head, a smile on your lips. “No. He sent Lucien away on border patrol for a week, seemingly scared I would jump his bones and force Tamlin to marry us.” You laughed as you spoke, but Rhysands fingers dug into your skin at your words. “And would you have?” He asked, face serious. You let out a coy smile before answering, “Maybe.”

In a split second you were pressed back against the tree you were leaning on earlier, with his hands on either side of your head. You looked up at him with surprise as you noted the anger on his face. “Rhys?” You asked cautiously, a hand rising to cup his face. He turned into your touch, kissing your palm. “I know I shouldn’t be angry.” He whispers into your skin. His words send a flash of lightning through you. You weren’t sure what was wrong with you. All you knew was you wanted him.

No, you needed him.

Without thinking you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. You instantly regretted what you had done as embarrassment flowed through you, moving to pull away. His hand came up behind your head and pushed you right back to him. His kiss was hard, needy. You fell back against the tee and moaned into this touch, hearing him curse against your mouth. His lips disappeared from yours and began traveling down your neck. He bit an especially sensitive spot and you gasped out his name. One hand pinned your waist to the tree behind you as the other ran down your leg. He began bunching your skirts up, desperate to feel your skin. His hand ran up your thigh, gripping tightly once he reached the top. You pulled his mouth back to yours, pressing your body into his. He ground his hips down onto yours, your body arched into his. A deep moan fell from you at that action, need coursing through your veins. You let out a soft whine when Rhys pulled away from you, leaving you suddenly cold.

“If we don’t stop now, I don’t think I will be able to.” He said, hands running through his hair. Your mind was a jumble of thoughts, all centering around Rhys and the way you needed him to fuck you right now. You took a step closer, placing a hand on his chest. “I don’t want you to stop,” you said, pulling him back down to you. The kiss was different this time, more intense, more hurried. He pulled your skirts up again without hesitation, his fingers finding you immediately. You fell back onto your tree once more, submitting to Rhysands touch. You made a noise of disapproval as he pulled his lips from yours again, before he dropped to his knees in front of you. He looked up at you wickedly, waiting for your permission to continue. You weren’t even done nodding before he tore your underwear and attached his lips to you. You nearly screamed at the sensation, head falling back in bliss. Rhys grabbed one leg and threw it over his shoulder, his hand gripping the opposite thigh hard enough to bruise. You let your hands thread through his hair, his name falling from your lips like a prayer as he worked you. “Go on, sweet thing. Let go for me.” He spoke against you, sliding a finger into you as well. You screamed loud enough for anyone to hear as your orgasm washed over you, more powerful than any you had ever felt. Rhys devoured you through it, prolonging the feeling until you were shaking from overstimulation. He carefully set your leg down and rose to look at you. The desire on his face, with his lips wet from you, was enough to have you ready for him again. You pulled him down to kiss you again, his hands traveling up your skin.

“I need you Rhys. Please,” you begged against his mouth, moving your hand to undo the ties on his pants. He groaned into your mouth as you pulled him out, pumping him in your hand. Your confidence faltered for a moment at the size of him, unsure if he would even fit. You had taken males before, unknown to your brother, but none had been like this. Rhys noticed your hesitation, pulling away to look at you. “We don’t have to continue if you don’t want to, sweet darling.” He spoke, brushing your hair out of your face. You responded by pumping him in your hand again, relishing in the way his eyes rolled back in pleasure. He pushed you back, sliding himself through your wet folds. You whimpered at the feeling, ready to feel him inside you. You felt his tip nudge at you before he pushed the first inch in. You arched into him as the pleasure washed over you. “More Rhys, more,” you moaned out, pulling him closer. Every inch of him brought you more and more pleasure, until you were certain you could finish just like this. Once he bottomed out in you he gasped out your name, bringing your lips to his once more.

He began to thrust softly into you, your nails digging into his back. He sped up, pushing harder and harder until you screamed his name against his mouth. He pulled his lips from yours, sucking a path down you neck. Your leg rose to hook over his hip, needing to feel him as deep as possible. One of his hands slid down you again, circling you with his fingers. You pushed harder into his touch, seconds away from finishing again. “I want to finish with you Rhys,” you mumbled out, gripping his back tighter. He let out a growl at your words and nipped your neck, thrusting unforgivingly into you. “Come with me,” he whispered into your ear, biting down on your earlobe. You let out a shout as the pleasure ripped through you, barely noticing the tatters of his shirt as you tore through it. Rhys came with a loud growl, burying himself into you.

It was then that you felt it. That snap. That feeling you had been longing for your whole life. Your eyes widened as you realized what just happened, looking to Rhys to see if he felt it too. He looked at you, questioning the look in your eyes. He slowly pulled out, helping you fix your dress and fixing himself. You began to feel an ache in your chest, realizing he didn’t feel the snap with you.

Until he took your hands in his and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “It snapped for me long ago,” he whispered, voice raw. Your eyes widened even more, processing this new information. Rhys was your mate. Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court. Rhysand, your brothers enemy. Rhysand, Rhysand, Rhysand.

Tamlin was going to kill you both.

***

I’m very tempted to write a part 2 to this!! Please let me know if that is something you would enjoy. My inbox is open for any requests or comments <3

[readychilledwine]

Lollipop

Azriel x innocent Vanserra OC

Summary - after being silenced during the High Lord's meeting with her favorite candy. Seraphina finds herself the center of a certain shadowsingers attention

Warnings - implied smut, implied corruption kink, Beron being Beron (so mentions/signs of abuse), implied swapping, Nesta implying she'd go down on OC, age gap, messing with canon a little bit

A/N -I got bored and the whole corruption kink side of me came out. I also think I'm developing a Nesta kink, and it's probably going to get pretty smutty between her and an oc or reader here soon.... oooo or the valkyries x reader.... might have to do something for my girlies who love other girlies...

Part 2

Azriel was going to fucking faint.

Beron, in an effort to stop his daughter from continuing to egg on the Princess of the Summer court, had pulled out some form of an candy on a stick and put it in her mouth much to the laughter and delight of everyone around.

Now all the shadowsinger could do was watch out of the corners of his eyes as his mate sucked and licked on the candy innocently while reading the book Eris had brought for her.

Doing okay there, brother? Rhysand's purr in his mind before the High Lord looked over at the daughter of Autumn had Azriel suppressing a growl. Well, doesn't little Seraphina just look so pretty with her lips wrapped around something. 

Azriel shot him a glare before peeking over again. She had the candy so just the tip of it was in her mouth, lips wrapped perfectly around it. Cauldron fucking boil me. Rhysand sent him a wave of agreement as Feyre also looked over and smirked.

Feyre thinks the 3 of us should take her, and oh fuck-

Azriel and Rhys quickly snapped their eyes back to the meeting when the daughter of Autumn looked their way before looking at her older brother and tapping his shoulder.

Her breasts were on display, small hands delicating holding the stick of the candy as she leaned forward in the exquisite dress she was in to whisper in her older brother's ear.

The male heir of Autumn looked over to the Night Court glaring at the shadowsinger and the high lord. He growled softly before taking the candy from a clearly uncomfortable female.

"Excuse my interruption," Tamlin stopped talking as soon as Eris spoke and demanded the attention of the room, "Do you have something you'd like to say to my sister, Spymaster? You've been staring at her for the past 10 minutes." 

The room had gone silent. Tamlin leaned forward with a smirk, as did Tarquin and Thesan. The daughter of Autumn was an unspoken set boundary. No one looked at or touched Beron's girl, not even Amarantha. Too much power radiated in that small body. Power anyone would have given Beron their left arm to have access to. They just had to follow his rules to get the chance to play for her hand, and right now, Azriel's silence was risking his own family's shot at it.

Might want to say something there, brother. Az shot Rhysand a glare before clearing his throat and saying the one thing he knew he shouldn't. 

"How can I not stare at such a beautiful creature? Especially when your father so willing put something in her mouth for the entertainment of every male here?" Rhys froze and immediately sent a look Azriel's way. 

That wasn't what I had in mind. Being her mate does not promise you her hand, Az. Beron could sell her off before Eris gets the chance to bring her to us. Tread carefully. 

Beron laughed darkly before turning to the Night Court, "I didn't realize silencing my 55 year old daughter with candy would be such a problem for you, Azriel. No one else here seems to think anything of it. Must just be that Illyrian Bastard blood in you." The reminder of her young age was a slap in the face to the shadowsinger. A reminder that she hardly understood the world yet and that she had spent the majority of her life trapped in that mountain.

Azriel caught the way Seraphina's eyes shut slowly at her father's insults, "It's not a big deal, daddy. I-." Her father held a hand up to silence her. No one missed the flinch from the young girl. Helion, Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys all looked towards each other.

Helion was now staring at the young female too, his eyes softening at her fear. Beron glared at Helion before continuing, "If you continue to look at my daughter, you'll find yourself wingless, boy." 

Sera even knew that was too far. Azriel watched the way her chest stilled as she stared wide eyed at her father before switching her gaze to Helion who shook his head softly at her in warning. 

Rhysand growled this time, "Do not threaten MY family over your choice not to educate your daughter on sexual matters."

Sera was confused. How was a caramel apple sucker sexual? She made eye contact with the Spring lord, who simply motioned for her to come over to him, and she did. 

She walked in a way that reminded Azriel of water. Flowing, smooth, gently. He barely suppressed the growl in his throat as Tamlin pulled the girl into his lap, his mouth close to her delicately pointed and jewel adorned ear. 

The room filled with laughter as her eyes grew wide and a red flush hit her chest and cheeks. "Really," she whispered softly to Tamlin, who nodded and then continued whispering in her ear. Soft nodding came from her as Tamlin stroked her upper thigh and whispered to her, eyes locked on Azriel in a clear message. He knew. He could somehow sense the bond. "What's a," Tamlin covered her mouth, laughing slightly as he explained something else to her. "So people don't use the proper terms during sex?" Tamlin was smirking at this point. Whatever he had just said made the young girl gasp, and her eyes go wide.

Beron growled this time and tried to break the field of neutrality in anger but couldn't. "Enough, Tamlin!" Seraphina shifted in Tamlin's lap after he finished speaking to her. She stood and walked back over to the Autumn Court in shock and embarrassment.

"I apologize for the distraction, Shadowsinger. Forgive me," she began playing with her long red curls as Azriel scented her anxiety. "Thank you for the…. Educational lesson, high lord." The daughter of Autumn sat back down slowly and made a fatal error. Her and Nesta Archeron made eye contact and the oldest Cauldron made said one simple thing.

"In case he didn't tell you because he's a selfish male, there's males out there who'd return that favor. And females, if youd be interested in that." The daughter of Autumn grew more red and opened her book to hide her face in the crisp pages, "If you'd like to learn, let me know." 

An audible squeak came from the young fae female, "Eris." She was desperate for help. Her brother shot a look Nesta's way, and she returned it with a hate fueled glare.

Tamlin had painted a mental image for her in pretty words chosen specifically to make the young female feel warm. Truly though, She didn't mind the idea. The thought of her on her knees as Azriel tangled his large scarred hands through her long red curls, tongue running along his cock as he made a mess of her made her feel warmth growing in her stomach she'd never felt before.

She had heard rumors from other females about the size of an Illyrian's wings having something to do with the size of their cock, and Seraphina was just trying to imagine how exactly that would work if rumors were true. How exactly would she fit all of him into her mouth if given a chance? The handsome spymaster had huge wings. The largest wings she'd ever seen on a winged fae. If wing size related to endowment size, his cock was huge. And if Nesta was involved?  Cauldron boil her. Would Cassian also be involved? 

A hand gently clawed at her mind, causing her to freeze. It wasn't trying to get in her head. It was already there. Her honey eyes met violet ones as Rhysand leaned back in his chair and sipped his wine.

No, love, keep going. I was enjoying the delicious thoughts you were having. My brothers and I love sharing our toys. You could have Cassian and Nesta, myself and Feyre- His voice was purr that made her shiver with chills as she slammed him back out and watched as he looked at Azriel. 

The winged male's only response was one side of his mouth twitching into a smile before he became unreadable again. 

"Now that Seraphina has been educated on some of the finer matters of life, can we continue?" Kal asked coldly as he leaned back into his chair.

Eris discretely handed his sister back her candy. He shot her one look that said, "Be good," before focusing solely on Tamlin and Rhysand restarting their lovers spat.

Seraphina made eye contact with Azriel again as she slowly put the sucker back in her mouth. Azriel pulled his lower lip into his mouth and tugged the mating bond, praying Rhysand had been right when he said he had found it in her mind, but the female just didn't know what it was. Another way to keep her in the dark and innocent, Azriel thought bitterly.

She made a confused face as she looked down at her chest. Then followed the string to Azriel, lollipop now back in the same trapped position of her lips, If you continue looking at me like that with those pretty lips wrapped around that thing, I am not responsible for what happens next little bunny.

Is what Nesta said true? Azriel felt his leathers growing tight at her curious nature. He could feel desire radiating in their bond. 

Of course. Only, I eat pussy for my pleasure, not yours. And I will eat pussy because I want to. Not because you've wrapped your pretty little mouth on my cock. He had her. He felt her arousal spike as she shifted. I imagine you'll also be the type who sucks cock for your pleasure instead of mine, little mate.

I'd like to learn. He almost came right then and there as he watched her put the candy in her mouth, eyes wide like a doe.

Keep doing that, baby, and I'll be stealing you to teach you much, much more than just whatever bullshit Tamlin told you. Fucking ruin you for anyone else.

Seraphina turned her attention back to the book she had with a small smile, I'm doing emissary work in the Dawn Court all week this week. I'll be alone tonight.

I'll find you.

I look forward to it. 

[starryevermore]

i will go to lunar valleys in my mind ✧ tamlin & azriel

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

pairing: tamlin x archeron!fem!reader; azriel x archeron!sister

summary: to azriel, you are the most brilliant star shining in the night sky. 

word count: 7,954

warnings?: angst with a happy ending, pining, not proofread

PART ONE

Azriel stared at the cream invitation. It had landed in front of him just moments earlier, but he had already read it a few dozen times. The words were seared into his mind. You are cordially invited to the mating ceremony of High Lord Tamlin and High Lady Y/N. High Lady. You were Spring’s High Lady. There was no way, he knew, that you could, would, ever return to Velaris when you had a court to run. He had been invited to your coronation, too, months ago. But in the year since you left for Spring, he never visited. Despite Feyre and Rhys’s insistence that you missed him, and Lucien’s chastising him for never going, and even Elain’s quiet disapproval, he knew better than to make the journey. He meant what he said to Rhys all that time ago. 

If he went to Spring, he would bring you straight back home. 

Because he had built you a home. Azriel knew how you never felt truly at home in any of Rhys’s homes—not the Town House, not the House of Wind, and not the River House. The House of Wind was the most comfortable to you, because it offered the most solitary, but it was not your home. One night, you had told him of your dream home. A quaint cottage in the woods, close enough to the city to go when you pleased but far enough to still be calm. A nice personal library, a cozy kitchen. A big fireplace that you could curl up with a nice book. Azriel committed those details to memory and spent many months making your dream home come a reality. He intended for it to be a mating gift, for when the bond finally snapped for you. 

It only collected dust.

He sat there now, at the dining table he had spent weeks picking out. His shadows flitted about, hissing at him to go to Spring. To get you before you were tied to Tamlin forever. Azriel would not. He couldn’t force you to sacrifice your happiness for his sake. You had to be happy. That was why you never returned to Velaris. You were happy in perfect Spring with your perfect mate. To bring you back here would only taint you.

“You are not going,” Rhysand said. Azriel didn’t look up from the invitation to know his High Lord had winnowed into the room. Rhys had found out about the house a few weeks after you left, concerned when Azriel hadn’t reported for any missions. 

“I haven’t gone there in a year. Why would I go now?”

“I thought the same when I was going to let Feyre live her life with Tamlin. And then she called down the bond, and I was whisking her away without any thought of the consequences.” Rhysand leaned over the table, pushing down on the invitation so that Azriel would look up at him. “She is happy with him. She looks alive when she is with him.”

“And she looked dead with me?”

It was a cheap shot, and Azriel knew it. But he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that he wasn’t right for you. That the Mother had made a mistake. There were so many poorly-matched mates, and he was certain this was the case when the bond snapped for him. If you were content with Tamlin, then that meant you didn’t feel the same hole in your soul that Azriel did. 

His High Lord let out a sigh. “You know that’s not what I mean, brother. You remember how she looked when we forced them apart. She is finally happy again, and I won’t let anyone jeopardize it. Feyre won’t allow it.”

Azriel shoved Rhysand’s hand off the invitation. He stared at the date. It was six months away. A long time to be sending announcements for a mating ceremony, but it was surely to be a huge event for the High Lord and Lady of Spring. He imagined it would be the biggest event of the year. His teeth ground together. That should be you and him.

He dropped the invitation and rose from his seat. Shadows swirled around him as he stalked out of the house. Ignoring Rhysand’s calls behind him, Azriel took off into the air. He couldn’t stand this anymore.

“They didn’t come,” you whispered, head leaning against Tamlin’s chest. His arms wound around you. You felt him press a kiss to the top of your head. Your face crumpled. Letting out a shuddering breath, you said, “I shouldn’t be surprised. They haven’t come here in months, but I thought…I thought they would come.”

A finger tilted your chin up so you would look up at your mate. Tamlin’s eyes were soft. “If they’re the ones who decide to burn bridges, it is not your fault.”

“I know, but…” You sighed. You looked out the large window overlooking the gardens. Despite the blanket of night covering the grounds, you could see the beautiful, blossoming rose bush Tamlin had planted earlier that month. A tradition, he’d said. “I hoped something would have changed.”

Tamlin leaned his cheek on the top of your head. His steady breathing was the only thing keeping your from sinking to the floor. “I know it hurts, but it’s their loss. You are an amazing female, my love. I could never understand why they’d want to throw that all away, but that is their mistake to make.”

You wiggled out of his arms and stepped closer to the window. Your hand pressed against the cold glass. “I don’t understand what changed. I thought things were going well. Feyre stopped glaring at you to your face—”

“What?”

“—she still glared behind your back, but it was an improvement. Rhysand didn’t make comments wishing for your death. Even Nesta held her tongue. The only one who never came around was Azriel, which hurts because I thought him my friend. But for them to all decide I’m not worth the trouble anymore? It feels like they carved out my heart and stomped on it.”

Tamlin was silent for a long moment. You could feel his eyes looking you over, searching for any sign that you were about to waste away like Feyre had. Down the bond, you feel his love and comfort. But…there was something else there. Pain, anguish. Were you hurting Tamlin somehow? Were you making him doubt your love for him by talking about this? You looked over your shoulder at him. 

“There is still cake from the celebration. I’ll go get a couple slices from the kitchen, and some wine. Does that sound alright?”

You nodded. Tamlin smiled and left the room. You looked back out the window. Part of you was tempted to push the window open, scale down the wall, and run through the gardens until the pain of the loss of your family was only a dull ache. The other part of you just wanted to be held by your mate.

You loved Tamlin. You really, truly did. But, in recent months, you felt like there was something missing. When the high of getting to know him, accepting the bond, and becoming High Lady of Spring finally died down, you were left with a hole in your chest. Small, barely noticeable if you weren’t looking, but enough to make you question everything. 

Had you been wrong to come here? 

Something tugged in your chest. Ordinarily, you would have thought it would be Tamlin. He always was so quick to send you comfort through the bond, but this felt different. Colder, but a comforting sort of cold. The kind of cold of a fan being waved on you during a sweltering summer day. The cold of a drink after hours of laborous work. The cold of a shadow slithering around your hand, pulling you out of harm’s way. The cold of Azriel’s hands on your burning face as you sobbed at being forcibly separated from your mate.

It tugged harder. It felt closer to snapping. But to what? You had a mate. You had Tamlin. What other sort of snapping could there be? 

Your hands tugged at your hair.  You had been so sure months ago. Why were you spiraling now? What had changed? It was more than your family, your sisters, not showing up to your mating ceremony. No, this was something deeper. Something that you had been ignoring for too long. Something that was starting to boil over. Tears began to streak down your face. A scream of frustration fell out as your hand smacked against the pane. 

The temperature in the room dropped. 

“Are you hurt?”

Everything went still. Slowly, you peeled yourself off the window. No. He couldn’t be here. Not after all this time. He hadn’t deigned to see you in over a year. You had sent invitations and letters, and they had all gone unanswered. Even when you told Feyre to pass him along the message that you missed him, you never got a response. Yes, you had left without a goodbye. But did that mean you deserved to be ignored? 

Perhaps he truly only saw you as the latest object of his affections. Perhaps you never were anything close to a friend of his. 

A hand stroked your hair. You sucked in a breath. “I swear, if he’s hurt you, I will snuff out this Cauldron-forsaken court’s light before he can even blink.”

You scoffed. Slowly you turned, your eyes narrowing at him. “That’s rich. If you care so much about my well-being, where were you the last year? Did Feyre send you here to tell me that she’s throwing in the towel? That she’s decided I’m not worth the effort? That she’s forbidden everyone else from coming to Spring, too?”

Azriel blinked. “What?”

“I mean, it was rich for her to not come today. It would make sense for Rhysand not to come if she didn’t. But for everyone else to not make an appearance? Even Lucien wasn’t here, and he’s Tamlin’s best friend! No one has been here in months! I can only assume the High Lady ordered gave orders to stay away.” You shook your head. “You must only be here to finally clue me in, so I’ll stop littering their desks with silly little invitations.”

He took a step closer to you. You wished you had the space to back away. Shadows wrapped around your ankles. He reached out to hold your face, but you jerked away. It was impossible to miss the hurt in his hazel eyes. And—why did your chest ache? “I’m afraid I’m the reason no one made an appearance.”

Pain struck through you. Azriel? Did he truly think so little of you because you chose your mate? You once overheard a fight he had with Rhysand—heard him say that it was only fair that he had a sister. With Feyre, Nesta, and Elain all happily taken, that had left you. Did he convince them all to hate you because you chose Tamlin over him? 

You pushed him away. “How dare you,” you hissed. 

“It’s not what you think—”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s much worse. You couldn’t have Mor, but that was fine because at least it was because she prefers females. You couldn’t have Elain. That was fine, because there was another Archeron sister waiting in the wings, praying to be picked. But then you couldn’t have me, and you had to poison everyone against me.” You gave him your harshest glare. “Why couldn’t you have pined after someone else? I hear Gwyn is single. Why didn’t you go after her? Why did you have to stoop so fucking low?”

“I didn’t!” he shouted. His voice echoed off the walls. You were sure Tamlin could hear him, but you didn’t care. Not when it felt like your chest was caving in. 

“I thought you were my friend, Azriel. I may not have always treated you the best, and I apologize for that. But I know when I’m only being picked because I’m the last option available. I deserve better than that, and you know it. Of everyone, you should know that. What did I do to deserve such cruelty?”

“Nothing!” He ran his fingers through his hair. His shadows swirled around in a flurry. Was he about to set them out to attack you? Get rid of you as a final fuck you? “They weren’t here because I am going crazy without you!”

“Excuse me?!”

“You’re my fucking mate, Y/N!”

Any words you were ready to spit out dried out in your mouth. What? That couldn’t be possible. You had a mate already. You had Tamlin. And yet…There was still that tugging in your chest. Familiar, but not. 

“I have known since Nyx’s birth. I wanted to wait until it snapped for you, but it didn’t. It snapped for fucking Tamlin. As cruel as it is, I was grateful that Feyre and Rhys took you from him. At least it gave me a chance to make you see me. But then I came back from that mission and you were gone.” Azriel took a tentative step towards you again. You made no effort, this time, to push him away. “It fucking killed me to know you were gone. No one saw me for a month afterwards. I started to come around, eventually, but it was never the same without you there. I didn’t come here, to Spring, because if I did, I would have stolen you away again, because I cannot live without you. Then, six months ago, I received the invitation to your mating ceremony, and I lost it. Disappeared. Everyone has been on the hunt for me, to make sure I didn’t cause a war between our courts.”

You stared at him, unblinking. The ache in your chest only grew stronger. Could he be right? Could he truly be your mate? But what would that make Tamlin? Was it possible to be mistaken over who your mate was? Was it possible to have two mates? You wanted to cry—for you, and for Azriel. 

“I apologize for what my actions have done.”

“Why are you here now?” you asked. He said nothing, so you continued, “You stayed away this long. Why are you here now?”

Azriel let out a breath. “I had to see if you were happy. I…I imagine the mating ceremony has already been consummated, which would complicate things, but…If there was any chance, any at all, that I could be your knight in shining armor, I had to take it. If you were, I would leave you be. Let you live out your life as Spring’s High Lady and never again interfere. So, I have to ask, are you happy?”

That tug in your chest finally snapped. All at once, everything Azriel felt came crashing through. The full extent of his pain, the anguish raging through his body. The glimmer of hope as he stared down at you, waiting for your answer. Your hand reached out without you thinking, touching his chest. You could almost see the golden thread binding you to him. 

“Yes,” you said.

You watched the rise and fall of his chest, the gleam of his siphon bouncing off at you. “But?”

“I feel a hole in my soul.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “Yeah?”

“One, that I’m beginning to realize, is shaped like an Illyrian.”

The smile grew. He reached out, cupping your face in his large hands. Azriel’s thumbs swiped over your cheeks. You hadn’t realized you’d been crying. Leaning against his palm, a smile began to cross your face. Azriel leaned in, nose brushing against yours, until his lips connected with yours. 

A gasp escaped you at the contact. It was…electric. Unlike anything you experienced with Tamlin, save for the intensity of it all. If Tamlin was the innocent joy, Azriel was the passionate fervor. You had experienced the frenzy with Tamlin, but you were sure it would pale in comparison to Azriel. You could feel the full weight of his emotions through the bond—the lust, the adoration, the desire for more. 

A chord struck in you. If you could feel all of this with Azriel, then Tamlin could—

Tamlin’s snarl ripped through the room. 

He fought to keep a lid on his barely-constrained anger. Whenever Tamlin felt such explosive anger, he had a tendency to hurt those he cared about. You deserved better than that. And, even if your relationship with Feyre had become strained, he was sure she would make good on her threat anyways. But, Mother, how else was he supposed to react when that Cauldron damned Shadowsinger was kissing his mate?

Tamlin had suspected for a long time that Azriel harbored feelings for you. When you came to the ball, Azriel clung to you like a leech. Always hovering, always watching you. And when Azriel would leave you, those damned shadows of his would always linger. Even when Tamlin finally got a moment alone with you, the Shadowsinger burst in the room as if thought Tamlin was about to hurt you—pulled you out of his arms, tried to keep you from him. He knew there was a reason Azriel hadn’t visited once—hadn’t even sent word to you—in the last year. He just never thought the Illyrian would have the audacity to whisk you away hours after your mating ceremony. 

It must be a Night Court tradition. 

You pushed Azriel away—too gentle for Tamlin’s liking—and stepped toward him. Your eyes were wide, apologetic. You reached out for him, urged him to wrap his arms around you. He did, but not once did he look away from Azriel. He didn’t trust that the Illyrian brute wouldn’t stab him in the back at the first opportunity. Especially not with Truth-Teller strapped to his waist. 

“I can explain, Tam,” you said, cheek pressed against his chest.

Tamlin smoothed a hand over your hair. He tugged on the bond, let you know that he was not upset with you. He could never be upset with you. “You are not to blame, my love.”

“Of course I am. I wanted Az to kiss me.”

A growl rumbled deep in his chest before he could stop it. Okay, perhaps he could be upset with you a little. Though, he supposed he couldn’t fault you entirely for harboring feelings for the Shadowsinger. You had told Tamlin once that, although you were suspicious about Azriel’s motivations at times, he had been something of a friend. The only one, save for your sisters, that you could call a friend. When you’re that lonely, it’s easy to fall for the one person who’s kind to you. But that didn’t mean Tamlin had to like it. 

“He’s my mate, too, Tam.”

He pulled away. He searched your eyes for anything sign of deceit, for any sign of manipulation. Tamlin found none. He looked back at Azriel, who still stood far away, watching you carefully. It looked like he was ready to yank you away from Tamlin at the first sign of distress. Night Court folk always held grudges. 

This was…unexpected. If Tamlin didn’t trust you, he might have thought you were trying to deceive him. Triads had existed a long time ago, when Prythian was in its infancy. There was a time where there were more males than females. People believed that the Mother would allow the female multiple mates in an effort to stop the fighting over the few, precious females that existed. Of course, all of this was speculative—a work of fiction. No one had seen a triad in millennia. No one was sure they’d ever existed at all. 

Yet, when Tamlin pressed his nose to your hair, he didn’t just smell your scent mixed with his. There was something different, less familiar. It was faint. Barely noticeable unless he searched for it. A mating bond, in its infancy. As he turned his gaze to Azriel, he knew who it belonged to. 

“What do you want?” Tamlin near-growled at Azriel, still cradling you against his chest. 

“For her to be happy,” Azriel said. “I was going to let her go, never reveal the bond. I was going to let her live a life with you, but I had to make sure she was happy before I gave her up forever.”

Tamlin wanted to say that you were happy. That you had all you needed here. And, yes, you were happy. You loved the Spring Court. If Tamlin thought you beautiful at the ball, it paled in comparison to the way you seemed to come alive in Spring. But he couldn’t deny that, in recent months, as the Inner Circle stopped coming, as it became clear that Azriel would never visit, that something inside of you was dying.

And he had heard the tail end of your conversation with Azriel before he kissed you. You wanted Azriel as a mate. Tamlin knew better than to deny you of that. He never again wanted to see you as lifeless as you had been when he brought you home from the Night Court. 

“She’s High Lady,” he said, “she cannot be whisked away from here.”

“I understand,” Azriel said. “Perhaps, though, she could spend a few months with me, in the Night Court? Most of her year will be spent here, ruling by your side. I only ask for some time.”

You turned your head to look at Azriel. Your brows pinched together. “You would do that?”

“I would rather only have a part of you than none at all.”

Tamlin looked down at you. He hated the idea of you being taken away to the Night Court. It reminded him too much of how Rhysand had grabbed you and winnowed you away—of how Night’s High Lord had done the same to Feyre years prior. The nasty, jealous part of him roared at the thought of you going. But when he looked at your hope-filled eyes, he knew he wouldn’t deny you. 

To Azriel, he said, “Give us the month to get our affairs in order.”

Azriel nodded. It was done. 

“Be careful with her,” Tamlin hissed.

Azriel rolled his eyes as he picked you up. One hand cradled the back of your head, the other hooked under your legs. Your arms looped around his neck. Though winnowing you would be easier, quicker, Azriel dreamed of flying you to the home he built for you. 

“She is not a doll so easily broken.”

You scratched at the back of his neck. Azriel’s knees nearly buckled. Though you intended the action to be a means of chastising him, he only thought about how nice it would feel to have those pretty polished nails of yours rake down his back. “Play nice. Both of you,” you said. 

Tamlin stepped over to you. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “If you change your mind,” he said, “let me know. I’ll bring you home.”

Azriel stepped away before you could kiss Tamlin on the mouth. It was petty of him, to be sure. But he didn’t like the implication that you would not feel at home with him. What did Tamlin know? He wasn’t there for you when you came out of the Cauldron. When you were only a shell, sat at a piano all hours of the day, the melody of your pain echoing through Velaris. Tamlin was not there to hold you as you cried, begging for the pain to end. Tamlin never begged Rhysand to go into your mind, to give you pleasant dreams, so that even if you only experienced peace in your sleep, at least you got to feel it. 

Tamlin might have taken you from the Night Court. He may have made you his High Lady. And he may love you, but he didn’t know you hurt like Azriel did. He did not make the same promise Azriel did to never let you be hurt again. He did not know that, as Azriel was returning from that mission, he was planning to ask if you wished for him to take you to Spring. He was going to give you the choice that he and the rest of the Inner Circle so terribly deprived you of. Azriel had only been angry when you were gone because he never got to tell you goodbye, never got the chance to see you one last time before sending you off for your fairytale ending. But then, after the Inner Circle’s first visit, Feyre told him you looked like an entirely different person. 

Tamlin might love you, but he wouldn’t sacrifice his happiness to let you be with another male. 

“Are you sure you don’t need anything else?” Azriel asked you.

The week before, Tamlin had sent your clothes, some books, and sheet music ahead. Azriel took special care to set up your room. It was the master bedroom, of course. Azriel relegated himself to a smaller guest room. Even if you were going with him to see if you truly wanted the bond with him, he was not going to force you to share a room with him. 

“I’m sure,” you said. You turned to Tamlin and nodded your head at him, urging him closer. Reluctantly, Azriel did not step away this time. He could deny Tamlin all he wanted, but he wouldn’t do that to you. The High Lord leaned down and kissed you softly. “I’m write you, Tam.”

Tamlin smiled. “I eagerly await your letters.”

After bidding him another farewell kiss, you let Azriel take to the skies. Although Azriel was not fond of his Illyrian heritage—the culture and its males, save for his brothers, disgusted him—he would never tire of flying. He didn’t think it could ever get any better, but that was before he had you in arms, clinging tightly to him while he flew over all of Prythian. 

A laugh, a beautifully loud laugh, escaped you as he pushed himself faster and faster. He shot you a wicked grin and a wink before shooting straight up, turning over backwards, before righting himself on course again. The laugh turned to a scream. Your nails dug into the back of his neck. 

“What?” he teased. “Don’t like going upside down?”

“You’re rotten,” you said, but you smiled up at him anyways. He liked your smile. You smiled with your whole face. Pretty dimples, crinkled corners of your eyes. Even your eyes themselves seemed to twinkle. 

“Yeah? I think you’ll find I’m the rottenest of the bunch.”

“Not so rotten if you’re my mate, though.”

Azriel prayed you couldn’t see how red his face was turning. If you did, you didn’t say anything. Only further settled in his arms, watching the clouds as you passed them by. 

Though Azriel preferred flying fast, loved the thrill of it all, he found himself wishing he had savored this moment a little longer as he landed outside of the home he built for you. He sat you gently on the ground, a hand on the small of your back as you steadied yourself. 

“I thought we would go to the River House or the House of Wind,” you said. 

He couldn’t tell if you were disappointed or not. You only stared up at the cobblestoned cottage, the wisteria growing along the walls. You eyed the window boxes filled with your favorite flowers. Azriel opened his mouth, ready to offer to take you elsewhere, when you turned your gaze to him. 

“What is this place? How have I never known about it?”

“It was supposed to be a mating gift,” Azriel said. He couldn’t look at you, afraid for how you might react, so he stared up at the cottage. “You told me, once, about your dream home. I can only hope that this compares.”

“When did you build it?”

“I started it the day after I found out we were mates,” Azriel said. And because he knew you were going to ask when that was, he continued, “The day Nyx was born—when you were crying because you were so scared about losing half your family and I just held you. That’s when I knew.”

You said nothing for a long moment. Azriel swallowed a lump in his throat, praying to the Mother he hadn’t scared you away. That you wouldn’t ask to be taken back to Spring, this entire thing be damned. You didn’t do that, though. 

No, you stood up on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth instead. “Thank you, Az.”

Shadows flitted around the kitchen, grabbing the ingredients you wanted and bringing them to you. Azriel often chided you for turning his shadows, the very things he used to spy and torture and kill, into little pets, but he loved it all the same. There was something he liked about you exposing the darkest parts of him to the light. Besides, it was his fault for leaving the shadows behind with you while he went to the market. 

You placed the tray in the oven, giggling as the shadows pulled you away to shut the door on their own, another group of shadows fiddling with the knobs so that it was at the right temperature. As the brownies baked, you took to cleaning up the mess you made. Humming a tune, you began to collect the dishes, swaying your hips as you took them over to the sink.

In the month since you had returned to the Night Court, you quite enjoyed spending time with Azriel. His plan to sleep in the guest room did not last long, for you found yourself so enamored with him that you practically dragged him into your bed. That was the first time his shadows allied themselves with you. A part of you, now, dreaded the idea of having to leave him behind when you returned to Spring. Tamlin and Azriel did not get on well, but you were certain they could at least learn to tolerate each other if they spent time with each other. 

You dried off your hands, gazing out the window over the sink. Somewhere beyond there were the rest of your family. Though Azriel had reacquainted himself with the Inner Circle, apologized for causing as much trouble as he had, he had not revealed that you were in the Night Court. He glamoured his scent so that they could not pick up on how your own scent mixed in. You wondered how Tamlin might have responded to their inquiries to visit you in Spring, but Azriel didn’t say much besides Feyre worried she had offended you. 

Good, you mused. She should be worried. She had made you grieve your relationship with her. She made you sick as you contemplated where you went wrong. She made you feel like you lost your entire family by choosing your mate. If she sat in worry, she deserved it. 

A shadow tugged on your wrist, alerting you to the fact that the brownies were finished. The shadows didn’t allow you to take the tray out yourself, but did let you begin to cut them and place one on a plate for Azriel. You bit your lip, trying to contain your smile. 

Tomorrow, you were to return to Spring. But tonight, you would accept the bond with Azriel. 

You hadn’t said a word to the shadows about your plan, yet they buzzed around the cottage as they readied for the romantic evening to come. Petals littering the floor, candles lit up around the room, a romantic song playing over the symphonium. You almost thought the shadows wished to seduce your mate more than you did. 

One tugged on your wrist as the door opened. You did hold back your smile this time as Azriel walked into kitchen, setting the bags down on the counter. 

“Welcome home,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. 

Azriel smiled against your lips. “What did I do to deserve such a warm welcome?” He pulled away for a moment, sniffing at the air. “Have you been baking?”

“Brownies,” you confirmed. You twisted out of the arms and took the plate that the shadows hovered over to you. “For you.”

He stared down at the plate, then looked up at you. “I couldn’t—” he said. 

You picked up the brownie and brought it up to his lips. “I insist. I have been blessed by the Mother with two wonderful mates, and I intend to have you both fully.”

Thunder rumbled in the sky as Azriel sank his teeth into the treat, never taking his eyes off of you. You swiped your thumb at the corner of his mouth, collecting the crumbs, and licked them off. A growl ripped through his chest as Azriel tugged you against him. 

“I suppose that’s why the cottage looks like something straight of Nesta’s romance novels?”

“You can thank your shadows for that. They did that all on their own.”

“You truly have reduced them to busybodies like all the rest,” he said, though his voice didn’t hold an ounce of malice. Azriel kissed you softly. “I suppose I should thank them, though, because I fully intend to ravish you tonight.”

“Oh, I hope that’s a promise you intend to keep.”

Thunder rumbled again. The scene outside turned darker as storm clouds began to roll in. You were prepared to ignore it all when a flash of lightning made you jump out of your skin. The front door slammed open, the wood hitting the wall so hard you were almost certain it splintered. Azriel’s hold on you tightened. 

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up straight. You peered over to the foyer, blood running cold as you took in the appearance of Night’s High Lord, your sister just a half step behind him. 

“I didn’t think you were so foolish to steal away Spring’s High Lady, brother,” Rhysand said. 

“I was not stolen,” you snapped. “I came here willingly. Tamlin knows exactly where I am, and that I shall be returning to Spring by morning.”

Your sister said your name softly, stepping around her mate and toward you. “You’re already leaving?” she asked. 

“I have been here a month. That is plenty long to be away from Spring and my other mate.”

Feyre’s eyes flicked to Azriel, then to the tray of brownies abandoned on the counter. “You know.”

“No thanks to you,” you said. “How long were you going to let me cry over Azriel not coming to visit before you told me it wasn’t because he hated me?”

“You know I couldn’t tell you. I hated learning about my own mating bond from the Suriel. I didn’t—I couldn’t let you live through that same pain.”

“No, you just let me think my only friend hated me. You let me think you all hated me, because you were too busy trying to find him before my mating ceremony to respond to any of my letters.”

Rhysand’s eyes narrowed at you. “We couldn’t have told you anything. We hardly understand how a triad works. How could we have explained it to you without sounding like we descended into lunacy?”

“You could have said anything!” you protested. “Feyre, you could have told me anything short of the truth. There was a threat to the Night Court, or perhaps that there were some diplomacy issues you needed to tend to. But, no, you rather that I cried to Tamlin every night, prayed that you would send some sort of sign that our relationship was not beyond repair.”

Feyre took a step toward you. Rhysand reached for her wrist, to stop her from nearing you, but she shook him off. “And I will regret that for the rest of my days. You know I have never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you have. You are my sister, Feyre, but you treated me like I was no one to you. Tell me, were my letters to all the others ignored under your orders, too?”

Her glance away from you told you everything you needed to know.

“I spent my mating ceremony, what should have been the happiest day of my life, grieving the loss of my family. I will never get that day back again.” You grabbed for Azriel’s hand, lacing your fingers through his, squeezing tight. “Don’t expect an invitation to the next.”

Feyre’s eyes snapped to yours. Silver lined them. “Please—”

“I would like to return to Spring, now, please,” you said to Azriel. “It seems I have outgrown Night.”

Without a word, Azriel winnowed you away. 

Tamlin stared at your back as you slept. You had been quiet ever since you returned from the Night Court. Tamlin understood—Azriel had explained how Feyre and Rhysand came to the cottage as you were accepting the mating bond with Azriel. He recalled the fury in your eyes as you stated that Azriel would remain in the Spring Court until the frenzy subsided. He didn’t see you much over the following weeks, so he couldn’t speak much to your state then. But when Azriel, rather regretfully, announced he would be returning to Night to deal with the fallout, you began to withdraw. Tamlin was left with the aftermath. And like Feyre before you, he wasn’t quite sure how to make things better. 

Unlike Feyre, he was going to do whatever he could to help you. He would not let you waste away, fade away into nothing. 

Tamlin kissed your bare shoulder then slipped out of the bed. If you noticed, you did not move. He continued on to his study, ignoring the curious looks of the servants still lingering in the halls, and settled at his desk. He procured a sheet of paper and a pen, and began to write. 

Azriel, he began, I apologize for my abruptness, but I must ask that you return to Spring expeditiously. While I understand that the Night Court is your home, Y/N has not been faring well without both of her mates. You do not need to forsake your home, but any time that you could spend here would be appreciated. Yours truly, Tamlin. 

He sent the letter off. Tamlin remained at his desk, waiting for a reply. But one did not have to wait for long as shadows began to soon flood the room. In the past, the sight of the shadows would have made Tamlin’s skin crawl. It was no secret the depths the Spymaster would go to, to extract information from his targets, and those very shadows were just another in his arsenal. But their arrival was signal enough that Azriel had arrived, and that was enough for the weight on Tamlin’s shoulders to lift ever so slightly. 

“Where is she?”

Tamlin rose to his feet. “Sleeping. She doesn’t know I asked for you to come.”

Azriel nodded. A few of the shadows abandoned the study in search of you. The shadows, generally, still disturbed Tamlin. In the month you and Tamlin got your affairs in order, those damned little things scarcely left your side. He was certain they even hissed at him for daring to be near you. Slowly, though, they began to grow on him as they came to the collective understanding that both parties were looking out for your best interests. 

“How have things fared in the Night Court?” Tamlin asked. 

“Feyre is distraught,” Azriel said. He turned his gaze to the ceiling, as if trying to stop them from rolling right out of his head. “Rhys has been insisting I bring Y/N back so they can talk things through. He does not take kindly to my own insistence that, if Feyre wished for things to get better, she should be the one to make the first move.”

Tamlin snorted. “And here I thought you were just a loyal dog.”

Azriel flashed a smirk. “Oh, I am. Just not to him.”

Good, Tamlin thought. If there was anyone who deserved his loyalty, it would be you. Kind, sweet you. Tamlin once thought your family was loyal—they certainly seemed to think they were looking out for your best interests when they took you from the Spring Court. And they had been so diligent about visiting you before. Every month at the start of the month, he would receive a letter asking permission to visit. The Inner Circle always arrived before he could accept. That was, until the invitation to the mating ceremony was sent out. Despite both you and Tamlin sending inquiries and invitations, not a single one ever responded. When they failed to show up at the mating ceremony, Tamlin decided then that he would never forgive them. 

“How long do you intend to stay?” Tamlin said. Azriel brought nothing with him, save for the clothes on his back and the weapons strapped to his waist. 

“As long as you’ll allow it. I tendered my resignation this morning,” Azriel said. “I’ll begin the search for a home here in the morning.”

“Don’t bother,” Tamlin said. Azriel looked stricken. His brows pinched together, mouth settling into a frown. Realizing his error, Tamlin corrected, “You can have a home here if you like. Your own room, or you can share ours. We might have to get a bigger bed, given your wingspan, but it would be no trouble.”

Azriel’s wings twitched. “You would do that?”

“You are her mate as much as I am. You may be willing to settle for only a piece of her life, but I would be remiss if I stopped you from having all of her.” Tamlin waved his hand, urging Azriel to follow him. “I have some more comfortable clothes you can change into. We should both rest.”

“Tamlin—” Azriel said. Tamlin paused. “Thank you.”

“There is nothing to thank me for. Will you need to return to the Night Court for your things, or will you be purchasing replacements?”

As they walked down the hall, the servants even more confused than before, Azriel said, “My shadows will retrieve the necessities. There won’t be much. I intend to have a fresh start here.”

“I suppose it’s a good thing Spring is all about rebirth then.”

“Yeah, I suppose it is.”

Tamlin watched as Azriel smiled when they reached the bedroom. He slipped inside, so silent that Tamlin could’ve been convinced that he was alone if he didn’t see the Shadowsinger with his own two eyes. Tamlin lingered in the doorframe as Azriel approached your side of the bed and knelt down. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, murmured a quiet I love you. 

Your eyes fluttered open. You blinked slowly as you took in Azriel’s appearance. “You’re supposed to be in Night,” you whispered. 

“I believe I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

You turned your head slightly, brows pinching together when you didn’t see Tamlin laying beside you. “Does Tam know?”

“Who do you think invited me?”

A sleepy smile twitched on your lips. “When do you leave again?”

“Whenever you decide to push me away.” Azriel kissed you. “And not a second sooner.”

Feyre stared at the cream invitation. It had landed on Rhysand’s desk just moments earlier, but she had already read it a dozen times. The words were seared into her mind. You are cordially invited to the mating ceremony of High Lady Y/N and Azriel. But the part she found herself reading over and over again, trying to make sure it wasn’t a figment of her imagination were— P.S. I would greatly appreciate your attendance. You are my sister, and I miss you being a part of my life.

If she went to Spring, she would have her sister again she so terribly pushed away. 

Because she had missed you. It had broken her heart to know you had come to Night to be with Azriel yet never came to see them. She couldn’t blame you, of course. You had been right. Feyre should have said something to you. It wasn’t fair for her to keep you completely in the dark. She hated when others had done it to her in the past. Why did she ever think she could do the same to you? Yet, even in the months afterward, she wasn’t sure what to say to you. 

She still didn’t. 

Feyre sat in the River House, at Rhysand’s desk, glancing between the invitation and the RSVP she was going to send in response. Rhysand stood behind her. When the invitation arrived, he said that the decision was fully hers. That he would support whatever choice to make. To stay in Night and continue to allow the relationship to strain, or to go and begin the mending process. But was there anything left to mend? You were happy in Spring with both of your mates. To go there now would be to ruin the life you’ve built for yourself. 

“Do you want to go?” Rhys asked after several moments of Feyre holding the pen in an ironclad grip.

“I haven’t seen her in months. I haven’t been to Spring in over a year. I wouldn't know where to begin.”

“Because you miss her, and she misses you. Don’t torture yourself with thoughts of maybes and what ifs. You know Y/N wouldn’t have sent the invitation if she didn’t want you there,” Rhysand said. He pointed to the postscript, tapping his finger on it. “It’s a peace offering.”

“I hurt her.”

For as long as Feyre could remember, she had been trying to protect her family. For a long time, it was all she knew. Things changed, of course, when she came to Prythian and her sisters all became High Fae. But the base desire, to ensure their safety and security, still resided deep inside her. It was why she had been so scared when you said Tamlin was your mate. It was why she panicked when Rhysand said Azriel had disappeared after being invited to your mating ceremony with Tamlin. Yet, in both instances, she had been the one to cause your pain. What if that was all she could do now? Maybe she was better off, maybe you were better off, if she stayed away.

Rhys let out a sigh. “You did, but she’s giving you a chance. Isn’t that what you’ve wanted all this time?”

“It is.”

“Then, I think you already know the answer.”

Feyre pressed the pen to the paper. She slowly wrote her response, worried that if she moved too fast, she would write the wrong thing. But, Cauldron, it didn’t feel write to just write a letter to you. If you were truly inviting her back into your life, if you truly were trying to mend the relationship, you deserved more. 

She dropped the pen and rose from her seat. Rhysand followed her and she stalked out of the office. Ignoring her mate’s questions behind her, she went to the living room where the rest of the Inner Circle waited for Feyre and Rhys. Everyone stared at her when she arrived. She couldn’t take this uncertainty anymore. 

“Well?” Nesta asked, breaking the silence. “Are we breaking this ridiculous stalemate together, or will I be going to Spring alone?”

“Together,” Feyre said. “We’ll go together, now. I’m sure they won’t mind a surprise visit.”

Nesta flashed a rare smile. “Good, because Elain and I would have dragged you there kicking and screaming.”

[aho-dapa]

Side note, because I'm watching a video essay that's pretty much saying everything I've been thinking about about,

With sjm's writing, what separates it from a typical romantasy not to take seriously is that post ACOTAR, the author suddenly says to take it seriously.

Feyre's Calanmai Hall scene isn't about Feyre not wanting Tamlin's advances, but that she does, she's just doing the typical romantasy protag thing of rejecting what you really desire. Think about how this contrasts with Rhysand's scenes utm, she doesn't want them and its not given enough detail, but this changes after Feyre and Rhysand get together. For example, the CoN scene. The fucking mid air thing. The telepathy sexting that can happen at anytime without true consequence. Very exhibition. Much voyeur.

This is literally sjm's fantasies played out through Feyre and Rhysand, and even through Feyre and Tamlin.

Despite how much I like Tamlin, he only really became a truly nuanced character in hindsight for me because of sjm's unintentional manipulations of her own narrative. In ACOTAR, he's also built around Feyre the same way most characters are in the first book.

He is built to fit into Feyre, he's meant to parallel her acceptance of her own desires, her own beast through him, because submitting to him is submitting to herself. That's why Feyre's themes get mixed up post ACOTAR, she loses that beast like quality to become a star to suit Rhysand. And sjm brings that back in ACOWAR with the Mirror (although it doesn't hit like it once would have because instead to fitting Rhysand to Feyre, sjm wrote Feyre to fit Rhysand).

The thing that's frustrating is that sjm is the one that is saying these are just not her fantasies on page, she's the one that brought mental health into it, brought up abuse and neglect, and handled it all so poorly.

It's this thing where sjm still wants to have the upturned-nose high ground in her books, she wants to be right, she doesn't want Feyre to be questioned or truly be in the wrong because Feyre is her fantasy. sjm likely writes Tamlin to not like human slavery, not want to be like his father, and with a self sacrificing personality while keeping his beast like qualities for the steamy parts. Because he's written to have that middle ground most people looking for that fantasy can still enjoy while not being too disturbing for our modern sensibilities.

That's why some people not looking for this find Tamlin and Rhysand's actions strange and gross, but people who already indulge in those fantasies were okay with it. And there's even people who think that ACOTAR is too vanilla (me). Anyway.

Basically, ACOTAR is not meant to be taken seriously, its literally another romance book with a fancy (?) cover. Post ACOTAR is not tho, so sjm makes a big deal about taking it seriously because she wants that middle ground with Rhysand when honestly, Rhysand could have been a dark romance ML and no one would have batted an eye. But that wouldn't work for the precedent sjm established with the middle ground, she needs that 'he's feral and sexy and toes the consent line but it's fine because xyz' in her books, and that's why the fandom is so divided. We can't decide whether or not to take it seriously or not because sjm switched up.

Her fault as a writer is that she didn't do this well at all.

I mean, this is also coming from the same woman that briefly had another one of her characters entertain their sovereign right to colonization in goodwill, so. This woman should never have been taken seriously. Unfortunately, she insists upon herself. So in order to actually discuss these books, we have to take her silliness seriously.

(Which is why I stopped because it's an endless cycle of saying sjm wrote something silly and because she's saying it's serious, now we gotta be serious about bat birthing or whatever)

Never forget how I saw a bat get birthed just to actualize how stupid the *gets shot*

[mcuamerica]

The Shadowsinger: Four

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. mentions of abuse/violence, implied SA, aftermath of the Sangravagh attack, Tamlin is mentioned, mention of death, ACOTAR series spoilers. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairings: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your first day of training with Azriel ends with you helping priestesses heal after an attack on their temple.

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

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

Series Masterlist

Prologue - One - Two - Three

After hours of training, you went down to the dining room with Azriel to eat lunch. “I think my legs might fall off.” You muttered as you sat down, wincing slightly as you adjusted your wings. You spent the whole first half of the day learning how to balance for a fight and then practicing fighting stances. You didn’t even make a fist until the last hour, and barely got into punches and jabs before Azriel called it for lunch.

He chuckled, sitting down across from you. “It can’t be that horrible, but if it is, I’ve got some good solvents for you to add to your bath. And a few oils.” He said.

“Are you suggesting you can give me a massage, Shadowsinger?” You teased, leaning forward on the table. Azriel flushed and his eyes widened. “Relax, I’m kidding. But I might take you up on those oils.” You said and started to dig into the food that appeared in front of you.

You glanced around, curious as to how none of the others were here. “They’re in a meeting right now.” Azriel said, as if he knew what your question was going to be.

“Oh… don’t you need to be in it?” You asked and he shrugged.

“Rhys will tell me what he needs to.” He said and looked at you for a few more seconds, frowning slightly. You could tell his shadows were talking to him, telling him something.

“I’ve gotta go.” He said and stood up.

You rose your eyebrows and looked at him. “Do you need-“ you started but he already vanished. Sighing, you slumped in your chair and started to eat again. You didn't even think to ask your shadows what was the matter.

Not even thirty minutes later, chaos erupted in the house. Dozens of priestesses were in the dining room, being healed by anyone who had the magic or the knowledge on how to do it. You helped bring clothes and water over, using some tonics and oils to help heal their wounds. None of them spoke and only whimpers and screams from the wounded could be heard.

Rhys said that their temple was attacked by Hybern soldiers, who successfully got what they came for. And left almost all the priestesses dead or badly wounded. And worse. So you did what you could to heal the wounded, using the training and your years of being the village healer with Sirona as best as you could.

Hours later, almost all of them had been taken back to the temple. Where they would heal and rebuild as much as they could. Mor was sent there with Amren to survey the damage and clean up everything they could.

Expect for one. An auburn haired acolyte who you saw Mor carry in. One of the first ones to arrive. You shot Azriel a look as if to question what happened and if she was okay, and he only shook his head in return. You saw Azriel’s jacket around her and guessed what happened.

She was the last sitting in the living room, new clothes and a blanket wrapped around her. She was still shaking even with the fire blazing. You brought a glass of water over to her, making sure to use heavy feet so you didn’t scare her as you set the glass down on the table next to her.

“If you’d like water, I brought some..” you said quietly. “Or I can have some tea made for you, it wouldn’t take long.” You offered and looked at her for a few moments. She blinked and looked at the water, reaching out for it slowly before taking a sip.

“Whenever you’re ready, I can show you to the library where a priestess will show you to your dorm.” You added and she took a deep breath.

“I- can you show me? I don’t… I don’t want to see anyone else.” She said and you nodded.

“Of course. Let me see where you’ll be staying.” You said and stood up.

“Can I… have tea, too?” She asked and you gave her a small smile.

“Is it okay if Mor brings it?” You asked and she nodded.

“It’ll be right out.” You said and walked over to where the rest of the Inner Circle were in Rhys’s office. “Mor, can you get tea for the acolyte in there?” You asked and she nodded, going to grab it.

“Rhys.. do you know where she’ll be staying?” You asked and he nodded, showing you where it was and giving you a basket of things that all the new priestess got. Robes, other clothes, towels, and a small pamphlet that let them knew their options for support and work.

“Thanks for helping, you were really good with all of them.” Rhys said and you nodded as you made your way back up to the living room.

“I used to help Sirona with healing at the village… and sometimes the Illyrians that came through weren’t too kind to the females. I treated more than I would have wanted.” You said and looked at the basket. “This program is amazing. I can’t imagine how many priestesses you’ve helped.” You said to him.

“They’re my responsibility to protect. And when I fail, it’s my responsibility to help them through it. And make them feel safe in their home.” He said and you smiled.

“You’re a good High Lord,” you said and patted his arm before heading to the living room, not noticing how stunned Rhys was as he watched you approach Gwyn and helped her to the library.

“Everything okay?” Cassian asked and nudged Rhys.

“She said I was a good High Lord. After everything she’s seen me do. She said I was good.” He said and Cass smiled.

“You are good, Rhys. Everything you’ve done was to protect your people. To help Prythian.” He said and squeezed his shoulder. “No wings tonight?”

“No… sometimes it’s too intimidating. I don’t want to scare the females further.” He said, Cassian leading him back to the office.

When you came back to join them, Gwyn, you learned was her name, settled into her dorm for the night, you saw the stark faces.

“Whatever the Hybern soldiers stole… it wasn’t good, was it?” You asked. “I know I’m new here, so if you don’t want to talk about it around me I can leave-“

“It was a part of the Cauldron.” Amren said and you frowned. You heard stories of what happened to the Cauldron. How it was broken into pieces so it wouldn’t be used again.

“I- what?” You asked.

“We believe Hybern wants to reform the Cauldron. And they just got closer to doing it.” Rhys said and you took a seat in one of the chairs.

“That’s not good at all..” you muttered. “What can we do?” You asked.

“Not a lot. We can try to locate the other pieces. But even I don’t know where they are. Az has his spies looking now.” He said.

“And we’ll have to come up with a plan on what to do if the Cauldron is brought to full power.” Azriel said and you looked at him, noticing that his shadows swirled around him more than ever now. And that his face was almost just that, a shadow of what it normally was.

“Can I do anything?” You asked and Rhys glanced to his Inner Circle.

“For now, keep training. I may ask you to fight with us if it comes to that. And… while you’re in the library, see if you can find anything on the Cauldron and its power….” He said and you slumped slightly. You thought he’d offer something more… useful. But you were new, and you didn’t have the same powers as the others in the Circle. You didn’t even have a Siphon or killing power.

“Alright, I can do that.” You said and nodded.

You sat through the meeting, each of the Inner Circle getting assigned tasks throughout. Each of them left to start that night.

“Rhys…” you said before he could leave. “You… you haven’t mentioned Feyre since we got back. And you haven’t called in your bargain for her.” You said and he sighed.

“I can’t call it in… I’m letting her enjoy the time with… Tamlin... She deserved to be happy.” He said and you nodded.

“Like I said, a good High Lord.” You said and stepped closer to him. “But a better male.” You stated before making your way to the stairs so you could get some rest. You had to be up early for your training tomorrow anyway.

A/N: Oof... this one was hard but I feel like it's important to highlight that the reader is also a healer and she knows how to help those who have been hurt. Also, I love her and Rhys's relationship sooooo much. Hopefully the timeline is correct, I’m going off of one I found on here when I started writing. If anything doesn’t add up, consider it a necessary change for the plot lol.

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[achaotichuman]

Just saw a picture of a Wisteria tree and now all I can think about is Tamlin and Lucien having a picnic date underneath one at sunset.

[acotar-taylorsversion]

Thoughts and Takes As I Re-Read the ACOTAR Series

This is extremely long and I have been typing it for weeks now. These are just my thoughts and I am typing them as I go. If you read it, I hope you enjoy it and maybe we can agree on most things. I would really love to hear everyone else's thoughts, too! 🙂

I don't feel like people blame papa archeron nearly as much as they should. It should not have been any of the sisters' responsibility to do what Feyre did. And after reading Nesta's POV, I don't blame Nesta for being so cold and hateful towards her father.

Lucien annoyed me so much in ACOTAR so much so that it was hard to like him in ACOMAF but I really tried to like him and give him a chance when Sarah made him Elain's mate and I realized that he could have a big role in ACOWAR.

I believe Tamlin had his redemption arc in ACOWAR when he saved Feyre and Az when they were rescuing Elain and then again when he saved Rhys. But I don't think Sarah will explore his story and she might be keeping him alive right now so that he can die at the right time.

After what Tamlin did to her and then allying with Hybern, I don't blame Feyre for ruining his court. He deserved it.

I don't think Ianthe suffered enough and I think that Nesta or Elain should have been the ones to have killed her.

Elain and Az were obvious to me in ACOMAF, just like Nesta and Cassian were and I was truly truly shocked when sarah made Lucien Elain's mate. I believe that there is so much more to that night than we know about and we'll learn about it when we get to Elain & Az's POVs. I believe that the bloodbane in Az's blood was killing him and nullified any bond that could have been there even before Elain was turned. Az was shot with the arrow before they went up to the throne room and that is why Lucien showed signs of mate behavior once Elain showed up. I believe the cauldron was wrong.

That being said, I tried to give Lucien a chance in ACOWAR and he just gave me the ick when talking about Elain. It didn't feel right to hear him say that he wanted to "see if she was worth it." Like she should already be worth it. Don't hesitate. I just did not see it at all.

I think that LoA will be the one to kill Beron. Don't know why, but I just feel that she will lose it and run to Helion.

Sarah had every opportunity to set Elucien up and she didn't. I believe she set them up for failure from the get-go. She instead focused on Elain and Az. I could do an entirely separate post about Elain, Lucien, and Az.

I believe Mor and Eris are mates, especially after what was said in ACOSF. I believe that he knows that she prefers females and wanted to save her from a loveless, unsatisfying marriage. I do think that he handled it wrong. Like that whole situation could have been handled so much better.

I think the whole Mor, Az, and Cassian situation was extremely weird. And now that Cassian is with Nesta and Az could possibly be with Elain, maybe Mor can finally move on and be free and not hide anything anymore. I wish that Mor would have talked to Nesta in ACOSF and explained and apologized for everything. Maybe she'll sit both the sisters down and talk about it one day.

I think Amren and Varian are cute together, but I think Amren should have stayed dead. Sarah is notorious for killing and then unkilling her characters and I think that gets old. I believe that sarah brought her back as a way to keep the summer court involved with the night court and to have a "know it all" character.

I think that Feyre and Rhys have a true, soul mate, true love, fairytale mating bond and I think Nesta and Cassian have a more realistic one. Feyre and Rhys fell in love before the bond was accepted and Nesta and Cassian were just beginning to fall in love before the bond was accepted. Lust and attraction and the pull of the bond is what truly brought them together but they quickly fell in love with each other.

I hate all the hate that Nessian is getting. People who say that Nesta should get with Eris literally make me sick and I want to throw ACOSF at them. They obviously need a to read it again. People need to realize that Nesta was in the wrong in HOFAS and Rhys had every right to freak out like he did and Nesta needed to be yelled at for that. I don't blame Cassian for not stepping in. And people forget how sarcastic Nesta is and they actually take her seriously when she said that Rhys debated executing her. Like do yall really think Cassian and Feyre would allow that or that Rhys would do that to his brother and his mate?? Like come on now.

Speaking of Rhys, I don't think he was wrong for keeping the danger of feyre's pregnancy from her. As a mother of 3 myself, I would be terrified every single day if I knew that my pregnancy could end with the death of myself and/or my baby. Like I would not want to know. Pregnancy is stressful enough as it is, even with healthy ones. And this is why I don't think he was wrong for freaking out on Nesta. I mean, he almost lost his mate, his son, and his life like what, 6 months before that? Like I can't imagine how scared Rhys is every day knowing that he almost lost everything and then Nesta gave a STRANGER a MADE OBJECT from the trove and could have LOST IT to the ASTERI who could have come to their world and DESTROYED them all. GIVE RHYS A BREAK YOU GUYS!!!!! I love Nesta, love her to death, but she was wrong for that.

I have my thoughts on Gwyn. I think she's a lightsinger. I think that is what Az's shadows react to, just like Nesta reacts to her. I don't think her and Az are mates. I don't think she's attracted to Az at all. I think she wants to prove herself to him because he did see her on the most traumatic night of her life. I think she wants to prove to him and everyone around her that she is and can be strong. That's it. There is nothing more to her and Az other than trainer and trainee. I also think that Merrill is the one manipulating everything and everyone, including Gwyn who might not know that she's a lightsinger. I think Merrill is working with Koschei.

Even after all the books, I still believe that Elriel will happen. There's just too many canon moments for me to ignore to see the possibility of Elucien. I only say elucien because gwynriel isn't a canon couple. They are not canon at all. The only thing that elucien has going for them is their bond.

I think Lucien will reject the bond for Elain. Lucien isn't a bad guy. I don't think he'll fight for Elain when he knows that she does not want him or their bond. He won't let Elain become his mother. I think he will find happiness with Vassa and they will be like Elide and Lorcan.

I believe people who support elucien only care about Lucien. I mean, how could you think that Elain wants to be with him after reading the books?

Based on the story of Koschei, it's not crazy to assume it will be 3 sisters and 3 brothers. Sarah is a very predictable writer and this is what most of the fandom has expected since ACOMAF and Koschei being the last big bad confirms that. Especially when you add in Vassa and Lucien into the mix. Just read the story of Koschei and tell me I'm wrong.

I believe that Az is experiencing the effects of a mating bond with Elain. He acts more like her mate than Lucien does and there's canon proof of this.

I believe the only reason Rhys stopped Az and Elain that night was because 1. he was convinced he would die with Feyre when she gave birth and didn't want his court to be in this war with the autumn court and 2. he is a political figure and he is using elain's bond as leverage with lucien. I believe that if Elain expresses to him how she wants to reject the bond, he would support it and accept Elain and Az.

I hate how everyone focuses on Gwyn and forgets about Emerie. I don't understand why people think Gwyn would be involved with the Illyrians. She is not Ilyrian and even though she finished the blood rite, she has said she does not want that illyrian warrior title. After what she went through during the rite, I don't see her being involved with them in any way. I do believe we will hear about Emerie doing something more like that. She could be an inspiration to Ilyrian females. Speaking of the Valkyries, I don't think they should have won the blood rite. It was very unbelievable. It would have been more believable if they had hid the entire time and waited for Cassian to come find them when the week was over.

Speaking Gwyn again, I think most of her fans overhype her too much. I like Gwyn and I'm glad that Nesta has her as a friend because she needed that. But I don't think we'll ever get her POV. I mean, we heard her story. We know what happened to her and we know pretty much everything about her. We know that she doesn't want that warrior title and she went back to the library not even sure about going to Nesta's mating ceremony. I think her fans forget this. I think they see her as a self insert character. I think they over sexualize her way too much. I'm not saying that SA survivors can't have a sex life so don't come at me. I just don't think she's going to want to be tied up with ribbons while Az holds her down and "ravages" her. The same male who seen what she went through that night. That just makes me uncomfortable. I think Gwyn would be embarrassed by the majority of her fans.

I will another post about that bonus chapter because there is so much to discuss.

I hate the amount of hate Elain gets and the side of the fandom that hates her does not deserve her. There is so much to learn about her and her powers and what goes on in her mind and I can't wait for her book.

I also think that papa archeron unknowingly traded Elain and/or Feyre and Nesta in his deal with Koschei for Vassa's temporary release.

I don't understand how people could hate feysand or any other members of the inner circle. In my opinion, if you hate them then why are you reading the series?? Why are you still here?

I don't think that sarah will make Nesta or Elain an actual queen or high lady. I think that Rhys and Feyre will always be more powerful than them and I think they will be High King and High Queen when the series is over. I can't see sarah making the sisters having the same amount of power or say as much as Feyre. She has always been above them. That has been obvious since the beginning because she's always protected them and taken care of them.

If you guys remember my other posts, then you will know my thoughts on how I think the rest of the series will go. Like elriel, vassien, koschei, the queens, the prison, the dusk court, the trove, all that. Elain and Nesta are the keys and Vassa should be the one to destroy Koschei. Rhys and Feyre will be High King and High Queen with nessian and elriel at their sides and everyone lives happily ever after.

What do you guys think?

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Word count: 1300+

Warnings: none I think, but let me know if there's something that should be listed

Part VIII | Part X

Rhysand wasn't particularly proud of himself and the way he appeared in front of his long lost sister and fetched her home, but rage blinded any common sense he had. Instead the instincts took over commanding him to protect. And so he did.

As soon as the decorated sitting room of his house appeared and his whole family stood up to welcome them, he felt better. A piece of his shattered heart healed and part of the weight on his shoulders fell off. However his relieve was short lived.

Still in his arms, Y/N took a fast look around, her eyes wide and full of fear, lips pressed together. A howl of agony left her as she bent over in waist. Her hands shot up and clenched into fists on her chest and with a sharp cry of pure pain she began falling.

Rhysand was shocked. So shocked he couldn't react nor breathe. He knew he had to do something, to catch her before she could hurt herself, but his body wouldn't move. Seconds stretched into minutes and he in horror watched it in a slow motion.

It was Azriel who moved forward, faster than anyone else, and caught her before she could hit her head. He cradled her against his broad chest and held her firmly as she trashed in pain, screaming, her eyes rolling back.

Mor, Amren and Cassian were there in a blink of eye, trying to help as much as they could.

"Rhysand," Azriel groaned through gritted teeth. Even though he was strong, he had trouble keeping her on place. "Do something! Help her!"

Rhysand inhaled sharply and forced his body to move. He squatted down, eyes scanning Y/N's body, looking for cause. He lost her once, he wouldn't allow it again.

Amren was holding his sister's hand, eyes gleaming in a dim light. She examined Y/N with remains of her powers. "She is under a strong binding spell. We don't have much time. It's killing her."

"Get out of my way," Rhysand barked and they immediately backed, making him enough space. He bent over Y/N trashing in Azriel's embrace. He squeezed her hand and put other hand on her forehead. His powers raised up as a wave around her petite body, searching and breaking whatever didn't belong there.

"I bet they didn't want her to leave that place," Amren murmured, watching them closely with narrowed eyes.

Y/N cried out one more time and her head fell to the side, body went limp. Everybody in the room tensed, eyes wide. Azriel's fingers immediately found her pulse point. Exhaling shakily he nodded. She was alive.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm going to kill that bastard," Cassian growled.

"Yeah, sure, dear. Go and sneeze him to death," More snorted, her trembling fingers played with strands of blonde hair. She was furious, too.

"I strongly doubt Tamlin knew who she is or anything about this," Lucien said coolly. All eyes turned to him. He stood behind them, arms crossed on his chest, brows furrowed.

"He certainly-," Cassian started, but Lucien stopped him.

"Think whatever you want, but Tamlin is nothing like his father or brothers. I spent decades with him, so I dare to say I know him better than anyone in this room. He cares about people whether they belong to Spring Court or no."

Feyre nodded in agreement.

"If he knew about her, he would provide her with much better accommodation and care, and he would see to it that she returned to her family as soon as possible," Lucien said firmly, gazing straight into Rhysand's eyes.

Rhysand looked back at him, jaw tightening, but he said nothing. After few moments he gently picked Y/N up in his arms.

"No one kills anyone. Rather bring Madja," he said calmly, taking his sister upstairs.

His family prepared a bedroom for her while he was gone. Placing Y/N on the bed with fresh smelling sheets, he wrapped blanket around her and holding her hand sat down next to her. He sighed heavily, watching her chest rising with shallow breaths.

Feyre silently came in and wrapped arms around his shoulders. Rhys gratefully leaned into the touch, his eyes never leaving unconscious female.

"I fucked it," he confessed quietly. "I should have been more careful.. I should have checked if there isn't anything holding her there. She was trying to say something to that bastard when I winnowed us.. I should have heard her out.. I almost got her killed." Rhys ran fingers through his dark silky hair and let out another heavy sigh.

"You couldn't have known they cast a spell on her. Thankfully you broke it in time. She will be okay," she whispered to him placing a kiss on his forehead.

"I know," he whispered back. "It's just.. For centuries I thought she was dead.. It's hard to believe she is really here.."

"Now she is back home. Safe. Once she wakes up everything will be alright."

"I hope so, but I feel like it isn't over yet. I thought that she would be happy to see me.. that she would run to me with big smile as she used to, but instead.. she looked at me as if I was a complete stranger to her. If only I knew what happened that night," he breathed out shakily, resting his head on Feyre's shoulder.

Feyre was about to say something when Azriel appeared in the middle of the room with the old healer. Rhysand stood up making a space for her and Madja immediately went to work. She carefully examined young female on the bed while Rhysand squeezing Feyre's hand and Azriel watched her, waiting for the results.

"There's no injury I could treat. She is perfectly fine," Madja said when she finished. "I believe she just needs good rest. She may be confused when she wakes up, so take it slowly and try to not overwhelm her."

There was something in her expression that made Rhysand frown with worry. "Anything else?" he asked.

"Well," Madja looked at him. "I tried to examine her head. There is kind of barrier that won't let me in. However I found traces of quite an old trauma. It has no impact on her current health, but it may be affecting her memory. Unfortunately, there's nothing I can do about it. It's too old injury that was already treated. And as for the memory, I believe this is more your field of expertise, High Lord, isn't it."

She handed him small pouch of herbs. "When she will be stressed, make her this tea," she said and left. Feyre followed her, giving him a tight smile.

Azriel stood there, gazing at sleeping female. "It's really her, isn't it," he murmured. His face was as usually emotionless, but Rhys knew him too well. He noticed a thin layer of silver in Shadowsinger's eyes. One corner of his lips lifted up in tight, but amused smirk.

"You still love her." It wasn't question, but Azriel nodded anyway.

"Never stopped," he admitted quietly. "I couldn't forget her even thought she was gone. Seeing her now.." He slowly shook head, his eyes searching her pale face. "It's like a dream. I had to pinch myself to be sure I'm awake."

"I can't believe it myself, too," Rhysand said. "But there's no doubt. She is my sister. Never forget it." He arched an eyebrow on his brother.

"How could I," Azriel snorted, corners of his lips lifted into a smile. "You've never missed a chance to remind me about it. And just as I've already told you so many times before: I'd rather die than to hurt her."

"You better to keep it in your mind. She just returned to me. I won't let her go again easily," Rhysand said half jokingly.

"Don't worry, I won't forget."

They stood there in silence, watching sleeping Y/N for the rest of the night.

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86

[marvelsmylife]

Can you feel my heart breaking?

Pairing: Azriel x reader 

Plot: what happens when the male you’re meant to be with is pining over someone else.

A/n my first angsty Azriel one shot. I did not make this an anti-elain story. I love her and will never write a story where she's being mean to anyone. My girl just wants to take care of her garden in peace. I’m contemplating making a part two to this. Let me know if you’d be interested in a part two.

ACOTAR Masterlist

Part Two

There was nothing worse than watching your mate pine after someone else. Granted, Azriel has no idea that you are their mate. Still, it pained you to watch as your mate followed another female around and made sure she was ok instead of you.

The worst part was that Elain was oblivious to Azriel’s feelings towards her or that you were Azriel’s mate. She treated you with nothing but kindness, making it harder to hate her because she was innocent in all of this. 

Someone who did know about Azriel being your mate was Rhysand. He sympathized with your situation because he was in your position before with Feyre and Tamlin. He was also grateful that you didn’t hold anger towards Elain for the situation you were in. 

Rhysand tried everything he could to keep Azriel away from Elain for your sake, and you thought maybe one of these days, the bond would finally snap on his end. 

That changed one night when you overheard Azriel questioning the cauldron for making Lucian Elain’s mate. You felt your heart break at his words because that meant he’d probably deny your mating bond when it finally snapped into place for him.

The following day, you asked Rhysand if you could be sent to the day court for a while. While he was initially opposed to it, he reluctantly agreed because he knew you had family in the day court and that Helion would treat you right over there. “Yes, you may go. I’ll contact Helion and work everything out,” Rhysand sent you a weak smile: “Just promised me you’ll come back to us. You know you’re like a sister to me. I don’t want to lose you too”.

“Of course, I’ll come back. I just really need to get away for a bit. You’ll never lose me. Unfortunately for you, you’re stuck with me for life,” you replied.

Rhysand let out a soft chuckle before giving you a brief hug and letting you go so you could start packing.

It took Rhysand two days to contact Helion and inform him that you were headed to the day court. Helion told Rhysand you were welcome to stay with him and was excited for your arrival. 

Throughout those two days, you spent it packing and giving individual goodbyes to your friends. Each time, they would question your reason for leaving. Not wanting to lie to your friends, you told them about Azriel being your mate and not being able to be around him when he was hung up on someone else. They understood your situation, and instead of trying to convince you to stay, they wished you luck on your new adventure.

The one goodbye that took you by surprise was Elain. Tears formed in her eyes when you revealed you were leaving: “I know I never said this to you before, but I considered you one of my best friends here. I don’t know what I’m going to do without you.”

Shocked expression appeared on everyone’s faces at Elain’s confession. Mostly because by now everyone but Azriel knew you were his mate, and they knew how much it hurt you to see him pining over the woman who just called you her best friend. “Everything is going to be ok; you’re going to be ok,” you replied, giving her a tight hug: “And if anything, you can always visit me, or I’ll visit you if you’d like.”

“I will be sure to take you up on the offer,” Elain responded and pulled away.

Azriel was the last one you said goodbye to and for you, it was the hardest one, mostly because he was your mate. “Please take care of yourself Azriel. Don’t stretch yourself thin. That means it's ok saying no to Rhysand's requests from time to time,” you teased at the end causing Rhysand to playfully roll his eyes at you.

“Don’t worry, I will,” Azriel promised; his hazel eyes scanned your face and noticed hurt and sadness in your eyes: “Are you ok? You know you don’t have to go?”

You tried your hardest to keep it together as you replied: “I’m fine. I want this, I’m just going to miss all of you, but I’m especially you.” 

A surge of confidence flowed through you and before you could process what you were doing, you hugged Azriel. This was the first time you’d ever hugged him and yet the moment you hugged him, Azriel felt complete.

But just as Azriel was getting comfortable with your embrace, you pulled away and placed a kiss on his cheek: “Take care Az.”

Azriel felt as if someone knocked the wind out of him as soon as you walked away and got into the carriage Helion had sent out for you. It took him a few seconds to realize it was the mating bond snapping into place for him.

“She’s my mate,” Azriel fell to his knees as he finally felt the mating bond he so desperately wanted to feel for the past five hundred years: “Y/n is my mate, and now she’s gone.”

[azrielsdove]

hi, i love ur fics so much, they are all so well written! can i request a fic where reader is feyre + rhysands daughter and is secretly seeing tamlins son. rhys and tamlin catch them and all hell breaks loose, while feyre is just trying to calm everyone down.

Thank you lovely!!!! I am SO happy you are enjoying them. I hope this was what you wanted <3

Spring’s Son

Warnings: Suggestive, 18+

***

“I want to come with.” You said, waiting for your parents reaction. Your mother looked at you curiously, your father shrugging.

“Why not?” He replied, a smile coming onto his face. “Let’s make it a family affair, bring Nyx too!” Your mother rolled her eyes, knowing your father liked to flaunt their family in front of her old lover.

“Fine. Be ready after lunch, we are heading out then.” You nodded, bounding to your room in excitement. You took a long bath, cleaning every inch of your body. You took the time to perfectly do your hair, choosing a dress that you felt would pass with your parents. Truly, you were too old for them to argue you, but the High Lord and Lady were not forces to be reckoned with most days. You admired yourself in the mirror, appreciating your reflection. You looked lovely.

You met your parents after lunch, your brother already waiting with them. He looked at you, a knowing smirk on his face. “Dressed to impress, dear sister?” He teased, your eyes flashing a warning to him. Your mother had that look on her face again, like she was trying to solve an equation. Your father scoffed at your brother, batting him on the back of the head.

“She’s dressed like a Night Court princess should be.” He said, holding out his arms to grab yours. He admired you, ever the proud father. “My beautiful girl.” It was your brothers turn to roll his eyes, a trait he picked up from your mother.

“Alright, alright. Can we just go?” He asked, ready to get to the Spring Court. Nyx was especially good at pushing Tamlins buttons, that trait he took straight from your father. You mother tutted over him, smoothing his jacket down and ruffling his hair as the four of you prepared to winnow away.

***

You landed in the Spring Court with your father, your mother and Nyx close behind. Your parents linked their arms together, you and your brother following dutifully behind as you walked up to the manor. You spotted Tamlin at the top of the steps, his wife next to him. You strained your eyes, looking for the familiar mop of blond curls. You were dismayed to find that his son had chosen to not greet your family.

“Tamlin! Camellia! How good it is to see you, old friends.” Your father spoke, shaking hands and kissing cheeks.

“Rhysand. Feyre. Children.” Tamlin replied, nodding to each of you. “Come, let us head inside.” He led you into his beautiful home, you pretending to simply be admiring the decor as you looked around.

Where was he?

He was usually waiting with his parents whenever you had come, ever the polite Son of Spring. You knew you couldn’t ask, couldn’t draw attention to the fact that you came just to see him. You sat at the long table in the dining room, the seat across from yours remaining empty. You tried to ignore the disappointment rising in you, putting a polite smile on your face as dinner was served.

Dinner went rather uneventful, casual chatter happening over the meal. Your parents and Tamlin had long since forgiven each other, but that did not mean the teasing ended. “Now, Tam, can we be promised one of your delightful concerts after dinner?” Your father asked, a twinkle in his eyes. The High Lord of Spring looked up to the ceiling, as if asking the Mother for the patience to deal with the High Lord of Night.

“Why, Rhysand? You wish to show off those dance skills again?” Tamlin replied, a smirk on his lips. You let out a small laugh, remembering your fathers so-called ‘skills’. He shot a glare to you, a look that said You’re supposed to be on my side. You smiled at him, teasing.

At the end of dinner Tamlin stood, extending an arm to your parents. “Please, if we shall meet in the study. We have much to discuss.” Your parents stood as well, following Tamlin and Camellia down the hall. You were certain there wasn’t actually anything to discuss, just an excuse for the four of them to drink and gossip together.

You got up from the table, intending to go search for the son you so desperately wanted to see. Nyx clicked his tongue, calling your attention to him. “What?” you asked, arms crossing defensively in front of you.

“You could be less obvious. You looked like a wounded puppy when you saw he wasn’t here.” Your brother answered, leaning back in his chair. Your cheeks flushed at his words, teeth clenching.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” You defended, heart racing. Were you truly so easy to read?

Your brother sighed, picking at his nails nonchalantly. “Sister, please. I know everything about you.” His words were cocky, the know-it-all bastard. You released your arms, turning to walk towards the door.

“Stay out of my business, Nyx.”

***

You carefully prowled the Spring Court manor, hoping you’d catch him at any turn. You stayed mostly to the areas you knew you were allowed to be in, not knowing how to explain yourself if you were caught. You ended up in the giant library, standing in front of the windows overlooking the gardens. There was a delicate beauty here, one that almost rivaled the deadly beauty of the Night Court.

You startled when two arms wrapped around your waist, lips pressing against your neck. The familiar scent of grass and honeysuckle swept over you, realization dawning. “Where were you?” you asked, sinking into his arms.

“Why? Did my Nightingale miss me?” He teased, leaving a trail of kisses on your skin. You softly moaned, hands clasping over his.

“I always do.” You said, turning in his arms. You looked at the long blond curls, the brilliant green eyes. He was as handsome as his father, with the beauty of his mother shining through. “Cyrus.” You whispered, a hand coming up to twist a lock of gold around your finger. “You have been ignoring me.”

He gave a small smile, leaning down to kiss you ever so gently. “Never, my dear. I have been out hunting from dusk to dawn with my father. Strange creatures are being seen on the edges of our court, I couldn’t let him go alone.” Cyrus explained, a hand coming to cup your face. “I am always thinking of you.” He murmured, his voice heavy. “Especially on lonely nights.”

A shiver shot through you at his words, desire spreading quickly. “Is that so?” You teased, leaning up to press kisses to his jawline. “What, exactly, do you think about?” You let your kisses fall to his neck, licking a stripe over his adams apple. He groaned, his arm tightening around your waist, the hand on your face coming to grasp your throat.

“You know better than to play with me when we have been apart so long.” He growled out, the hand on your throat tightening pleasurably. You moaned out, eyes blown wide with desire. Cyrus was good at this, at reducing you to a puddle in a matter of moments. His hand released your throat, sliding to the back of your neck so he could angle your head up to his. “Oh, how i’ve longed to hear that sound again.” His lips came down to yours, quickly convincing your mouth to open. You knew it was a bad idea to be doing this where anyone could walk in, but your mind was so clouded with need that you didn’t care.

Cyrus pushed you back, pressing you to window behind. “Cyrus,” you gasped out, “anyone can see.” His lips tore from yours, resuming his initial attack on your neck.

“I don’t particularly care.” He said against your skin, a soft bite bringing a whimper from you. Your nails dug into his back, the hand around your waist dipping under your skirts. “I had to skip dinner, I knew if I saw you I wouldn’t be able to keep from touching you.” He whispered as he gently bit under your ear. His fingers toyed with the delicate lace covering you, an embarrassingly needy noise coming from your mouth. He brought his lips back to yours, kissing you hard as his fingers slid to where you needed him.

“What, may I ask, is going on here?”

The two of you froze at the cold voice, the haze of lust shattering around you. Cyrus pulled his hand from your skirt quickly, hiding the wetness on his fingers behind his back. You pushed off the window, straightening your dress as you looked at your father. In that moment, Rhysand looked ever the dangerous Dark Lord he was rumored to be.

Your gaze turned to Tamlin next to him, the same anger visible on his face. You knew his claws were seconds away from coming out, not able to believe the sight in front of him. You paled, shame creeping up your spine.

“Father, I-“ Cyrus began, ever the gentleman. Rhysand cut him off.

“You better have a good reason for having your hand up my daughters skirt.” Your fathers voice was nearly shaking with anger. Tamlin scoffed, turning the attention to him.

“Please,” he said, looking to your father. “With the way you Night Court fae act, she probably seduced him herself.” Your face flushed at the two of them, humiliated by the scene they walked in on.

“Enough!” Cyrus boomed out, hand reaching to grab yours. “There is no dark magic here. Rhysand, Sir, I love your daughter.” The room went speechless, the quiet deadly. Feyre and Camellia chose that moment to enter the room, catching the end of Cyrus’ confession. Your mothers eyes find yours, a knowing look in them. That gave you the strength to step closer to Cyrus, your hand coming to rest on his arm.

“Father, Tamlin, I love him.” You declared, looking up to smile at the handsome blond. Your father gave a great roar of laughter, rounding on Tamlin.

“What kind of a game is this, Spring?” He seethed, getting in his face. The other High Lord rose against him, his anger as equal.

“Who’s to say this isn’t your game, Night? You come into my home, send your daughter to whore out my son!” Tamlin yelled, retaliating against your father.

“Stop!” Your mother cried out, stepping between the two of them. She turned your father, grabbing his hands in hers. “You truly haven’t felt the love coming off her in recent months? The way she suddenly wished to accompany us every time we came here? Tell me you aren’t so naive, husband.” She spoke, calming the rage inside him. Camellia did the same with Tamlin, whispering soothing words to him.

Your father looked slightly ashamed, realizing he hadn’t noticed the change in you. He looked back to you and Cyrus, an apology in his eyes.

“Aw Mother, why did you stop them right when it was getting good?” Your brother drawled from the doorway, commanding the attention of the room. Your mother sighed at him, shaking her head at her eldest.

“Now is not the time, Nyx.” She chided, turning back to you. “How long?” She asked, gesturing between the two of you. Cyrus cleared his throat, unsure if the answer was going to create more anger or help dispel it.

“Around a year.” He said, holding his breath while he waited for a reaction. Your mother smiled, walking over to embrace you.

“I am happy for you, my darling.” She said, holding you tight. “Why keep it a secret for so long?” She asked, looking at you quizzically. You gestured to the two fathers, looking ready to attack each other again.

“Have you ever met them?”

***

[readychilledwine]

Surprises

Summary - Azriel has been itching to touch his High Lady for a long time. (Azriel x Tamlin's sister OC x Rhysand)

Warnings - NSFW - minors DNI, porn with little plot, oral (male and female receiving), shadow play, wing play, over stimulation, anal play, dirty talk, Rhys being a slight pleasure dom.

A/n - so I *may* have forgot there is a character named Briar in the series already, but figured with allowing the Tamlin x Elain crackship (which I'm not overly a fan of but can see Elain so happy in spring and allowed it for this) I might get forgiven. There's potential for this to have a fairly um plot lacking part 2. Just let me know what you think.

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

Rhys currently had his head buried in her cunt, eating her like a man starved while she begged and pleaded to cum.

If Briar died now, she'd die happy.

She caught the peonies in the vase out of the corner of her eye. They were blooming rapidly as her pleasure took over.  My little Springling still can't control her flowers when I'm playing with this pretty pussy, can she?

Her only response to her mate was a loud whimper as he sucked and licked her clit, eyes never leaving hers as she leaned up on her elbows to watch.

400 years, and I will never tire of the taste of you on my tongue. He pushed two fingers into her, making her cry out his name. So tight and wet. Is this all for me, Briar?

"Yes, daddy. It's always for you. I'm yours." The high lord moaned around her swollen and abused clit at the words. She'd already came twice for him, but he wanted more. He wanted her begging him to stop. He got off on the tears she'd cry from over stimulation and edging, and he wanted those big tears tonight. He wanted her so far gone she could only cry. Say the word and we stop. 

"Yes daddy," she sighed softly before leaning back down. Moaning loudly as he continued sucking, licking, and finger fucking her to another orgasm. 

This third one was always the hardest to get from her, but once it happened, she'd be putty for him. And that thought alone as he pushed against the spongy part of her core that made her see stars .Rhys got off on Briar's pleasure. He ate her pussy because it pleased HIM to watch her squirm. To watch her beg. To watch her Spring Court magic unleash itself on the flowers he kept in the room for that exact purpose. They bloomed beautifully as she reached her peak, and based on the twitching and clenching of her walls, the sound of his name falling from her lips like a prayer, the way the peonies had fully opened, and her thoughts of nothing but Rhys wrecking her, she was almost there. 

And then a knock came on the door, making them stop and Rhysand growl loudly. The knock was followed by the sound of a deep cold voice, "Rhys, I'm really sorry, but the other high lords are here. In the townhouse. Like right now. They're all here. With their parties. They're all in the great hall you added on. They've agreed to your meeting, but want to do it on their terms. Feyre, Cass, and Lu are doing the best they can to entertain them."

Briar whimpered in frustration due to Rhysand stopping. He shot her a look, Do not whine like a brat, or I will not let you suck my dick for a week. Her lip trembled at the thought. 

He kept his fingers pumping in and out of her, curling and hitting the perfect spot before adding his thumb to circle gently around her clit. He could smell Azriel's arousal when Briar moaned again and smirked slightly.  He knocked gently on Azriel's shields, his brother allowing him in instantly. She's been thinking about it more and more, Azriel. Maybe she just needs the right surprise and motivation.

Rhys watched her arch her back before verbally responding, "When did they get here? Is my wonderful brother in law here as well?"

Azriel was about to undo his belt, and take care of the problem listening to Briar's cries was creating, but stopped himself.  She was his high lady, his best friend. He would not do this, "Lucien's message came to the House of Wind maybe 10 minutes ago. You warded the house so heavily I had to fly in since you did not answer when any of us called. Yes, Tamlin is here."

Rhysand's smile went feral, "Give me 5 minutes, Azriel. The High Lady is almost done. Feel free to come watch." 

Azriel was surprised, but never one one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He opened the door immediately and went to the chair at the desk across from the bed. 

Briar's long blonde curls were around her like a golden halo. Her back arched as Rhys began eating her out again. Her panting was rapid and heavy, her breasts bouncing lightly as she lowered her back to bed. She felt like her skin was on fire under Azriel's watchful gaze. He was memorizing every dip and curve of her, a hand resting under his chin as a soft smirk played on his face.

Do you want him to touch you baby? Briar whined and nodded. She felt Rhys chuckle softly into her clit purposely making her moan again. Call for your spymaster, little mate.

"Azriel," hazel eyes met green as Briar held her hand out to the shadowsinger, "Please. Need you." He blinked a her, a single dark brow arching as if to challenge her. "Az, please. So close. Need you."

He moved slowly at first until Rhys came into his head. She wants you to touch her Azriel. Would you rather taste her or have her taste you?

Cauldron boil me Rhys. You know what I'm going to pick. And the high lord did, he pulled off and out of Briar making her sigh sadly again but not whine as she watched her husband crawl up her body. 

"You're going to get on your hands and knees. You're going to sit that delicious cunt on Azriel's face. And you're going to suck my cock like a good little girl. Am I understood?" 

"Yes daddy." The three of them moved in sync and Azriel growled the second he had Briar in tasting distance. 

She was dripping, new heat hitting her core at how taboo this was. "Sit on my face, Briar." Rhysand gently pushed her shoulders lowering his mate on to Azriel's waiting mouth and tongue. 

The groan of pleasure that left Azriel the second her essence hit his tongue made Briar cry out loudly. Immediately, Azriel had his tongue buried inside of her walls, teeth gently grazing her swollen nerves. Rhys pulled his cock from his boxers and tapped the head on Briar's lips. "Open now." 

She parted her lips, immediately coming to lick off his precum.  We must be quick, my love. We can't have them waiting too long.

If he keeps doing whatever he's doing down there, I'll be done in seconds. Rhys laughed darkly and relayed the message to Azriel as he brought his wife's hair into a make shift ponytail and began slowly fucking her mouth. He groaned softly as shadows began playing with Briar's nipples. "Such a spoiled girl." Rhys thrusted harshly into her mouth making her gag.

Azriel smirked from below her and doubled down on his efforts, Briar was constantly moaning around Rhysand as he forced her to deep throat him, his eyes shutting, head thrown back in pleasure as she gagged and swallowed around him. Azriel began to tease her other puckered hole with his shadows. The second she started grinding her hips, moaning around Rhysand's cock, he asked his brother, Can I? 

Fuck her like a whore, Az. Give her a little taste of what this would be like. Azriel commanded the shadow, it pushed into Briar's ass and began gently fucking her while Azriel continued eating her cunt. It was dripping consistently now, and he was drinking every ounce he could, his tongue licking her inner walls. He undid his leather bottoms, pulling out his own cock and fisting it in time with his tongue in her cunt.

Rhysand looked down at Briar from his long lashed. Her eyes were brimmed with tears, her face red as she choked on his member, lips swollen with saliva falling on her chin. She was moaning around him like a well trained whore, and below her?

Below her was one of his favorite sights in the world, Azriel eyes shut in bliss, cock in his hand, he was practically drowning in Briar's juices. His wings flaring with joy, shadows circling her perfect body. Rhys has wanted to watch the two of them for a century now. But Gods his brother and her moaning together was almost too much. 

He could tell she felt guilty though. Guilty Az was not being stimulated since she couldn't see behind her. Her fingers twitched before slowly reaching down. She found the hard ridge of his massive wings and ran the backs of her fingers on it. Azriel and Rhysand both groaned at the sight. The scarred hands tightening down on her thighs while her husband's pulled her hair tighter.

Is this okay? She knew their wings were precious. She would never want to violate Azriel. 

"He wants you to play with him, my spider lily. Keep going. Show him how good you want him to feel." Rhysand's voice was breathy. She could tell by his twitching cock, the sloppy thrusts, and the vile things leaving his mouth he was close.

And so was she. She continued moan from Azriel's thick tongue and skilled mouth pulling her apart while his shadow fucked her rarely used hole. Dragging deliciously inside of her and making the efforts of Azriel's tongue feel doubled.

Azriel was moaning from her fingers gently massaging the sensitive parts of his wings, and from her pleasure. He was close. He would have came just from getting to watch Rhys and Briar. This was a surprise he had not been expecting, though, and he knew he would not last long.

Rhys moaned, whispering the dirtiest things as he continued roughly fucking the Daughter of Spring's throat. He could have died a happy male, right here, right now. Watching his wife struggle with all three of her holes filled, watching Azriel's hips buck his cock further into his hand as she played with his wing, then she touched Rhysand's wing, and he knew. He knew he was in for the end game. Make daddy cum, Briar. You know the spot.

Briar found the spot she wanted on Azriel first. It was the same spot she was now reaching for on Rhysand's own left wing. The second she tapped it on both of the wings, the males fell over the edge. Rhysand shoved her head fully onto his cock, coming undone deep down her throat. Whispering her name over and over as she swallowed his seed and never broke eye contact with him. Briar moaned, swallowing the salty liquid. She continued giving Rhys soft sucks in time with his hips twitching.

Azriel growled and whimpered from his high into Briar's cunt before latching directly onto his high lady's clit to make her fall over the edge as he came on his hand and leathers.  "Cum for him Briar." It was her high lord, mate, and husband's command that finally gave her the ability to cum on Azriel's waiting tongue. Rhys pulled out of her mouth allowing Azriel to hear her soft cries of his name name he allowed her to grind her hips on his face. 

"Azriel! Fuck! Gods yes!" Rhys caught Briar as her body gave out, finally falling too far over the edge of bliss. Her legs were shaking around Azriel's head as he held her thighs in place and worked her body through her high, allowing her inner walls to twitch on his tongue and greedily lapping each drop of her juices down. Rhys was in her ear, praising her as he held her chin and watched her eyes as she fell into an over stimulated haze.

He finally picked her up, allowing Azriel to sit up. "What do you say, Briar?"

Her cock drunk eyes hit Azriel as she smiled softly, "Thank you."

He nodded, "Anything for my high lady. I'm going to change and let them know you're on the way." With that sentence he was gone, Rhys giving him a scent shield so no one would know what just happened. 

He snapped a true night court dress on Briar. It was a thin black gossamer with hand sewn gems making it look as though she was covered in stars. Her body was mostly exposed. Everyone would see the marks he had already left on her. He fixed her golden crown before snapping clothing on himself.  He leaned down kissing his wife and mate deeply waiting for Azriel to give the okay.

They're all seated and ready whenever you are.

Winnowing now. Rhys pulled Briar to him, smirking at her flushed freckled cheeks, her wide doe eyes pleading for more. The next several hours would have to be mental stimulation, teasing touches. A big built up, he had decided, until the two of them were alone again, hopefully with a spymaster in tow.

He winnowed them directly into the town house and pulled away from her when they hit their destination. He led her into the hall by the small of her back. The inner circle all stood next to two empty chairs. Lucien took one look at Briar and had to school his reaction before sneakily giving Rhys a thumbs up.

"How nice of you all to join us here," Rhys faked the pleasantries as he greeted them all. "I'm sure my mate will forgive all of you for ruining the evening we had planned for our anniversary. Come, Briar Darling." They moved to sit. Taking the long way to their side. 

The room was silent. Tamlin's face had gone red as soon as the scent of his sister and Rhysand hit him, Elain giggled in the seat next to him. Helion was holding back laughter as he looked at the cock dazed high lady. Kallias and Viv had their mouths covered, eyes sparkling with glee. Rhys sat her in the chair meant for her before kneeling down in front of her.

"Briar Darling, are you with us?" Briar just sighed softly and kissed Rhysand making the Lord of Autumn scoff and Eris smirk. "Wonderful. That means my influential cock and I had almost gotten to do my job." A few laughs filled the room as Rhys winked to Beron. 

He tapped into Azriel's mind, And that you did yours wonderfully brother. Come back tonight so we can finish what we started. 

Azriel's wings fluttered in joy as Briar smiled softly at him. To the outside world, it appeared the High Lady was just acknowling her known sworn sword, but Azriel and Rhys knew what she was thinking as Rhysand poured in filthy inner thoughts into Azriel's mind. With pleasure brother. 

Rhysand moved into his own seat, his mate curling her legs into the chair and snaking an arm around his as she leaned into his shoulder. He leaned back, joking behavior gone as he put a hand on Briar's exposed leg, and stroked her outer thigh gently, "Welcome to my townhome, and welcome to Velaris, the City of Starlight. It is the gem of the Night Court. I would have prepared a tour and meal at one of Briar's favorite places to take newcomers had we known you all were coming, but we will make do with what we have." Lucien handed him the paperwork Rhysand had drafted for this meeting.  "Shall we get started?"