#writing with az

[azrielgreen]

Holy fuck I'm actually shaking with excitement to finally announce the adapted and expanded Scorpio Skies trilogy set for worldwide release!!! I can't WAIT to introduce you to Shane, Dante and Professor Keane! This story is messy, explicit and gritty, held together by friendship, love and the desire to do better... while fucking up spectacularly. I'll be doing a Q&A this evening so if you have a question drop it into anon or below and I'll answer it!

[grandwretch]

okay okay okay sequel to this post I wrote forever ago about Steve sabotaging Eddie's dates and Eddie being oblivious about it

Steve is about to give up. Like, he's been doing this for months now-- He honestly didn't think Eddie and Amelia would last this long; who stays with their first ever girlfriend for more than three months? But their fourth anniversary is quickly approaching and Steve can't help but feel sad and pathetic about the whole scheme.

He tells Robin as much and she looks at him with obvious disappointment. "You can't give up when it's just about to work, dingus. Commit to your homewrecking." Max agrees, when he tells the kids to leave Eddie and Amelia alone on Friday night-- The boys haven't figured out why Steve is set on ruining Amelia's life, just happy to try and get their DM back, but Max and El have. Steve is pretty sure that El is already planning the Steve-and-Eddie wedding: no one has had the heart to tell her it's illegal yet.

Despite their advice, Steve is determined to stay out of it. Stay home and nurse his broken heart and let Eddie be happy. If anyone deserves the kind of love that they have in movies, it's Eddie, and Amelia can give that to him in a way Steve can't. Safety and acceptance and babies and white weddings. Steve can let him have that. Steve wants him to have that.

until 7:30 pm on Friday night.

"One last try, and then I'm done," Steve promises over the phone. Max cackles, like she knows he's lying.

When they blow into the diner like they own the place, kids chattering and yelling and laughing, Steve sees Eddie and Amelia before they see him-- Amelia already looks upset, a look that is increasingly becoming familiar on her face. But Eddie is frowning, too-- his face is crumpled and so obviously upset that it makes Steve's heart thump dangerously in his chest.

His plan was always to break them up, but but if Amelia made Eddie cry, then Steve would actually have to dedicate the rest of his life to ruining her's.

To Steve's relief, when Eddie looks up and sees the kids, he smiles. Lights up from the inside, that joy that Steve cherishes so much is shining out of him. His eyes scan across the diner-- looking for him, Steve realizes with a thrill --and his grin grows when he sees his friends.

Sees Steve.

"Stevie!" he crows, hands flailing. " What the hell are you doing here?" Like Steve hadn't been on every one of his dates for the last four months.

When Steve drops into the booth next to Eddie, ignoring Amelia's glare, saying some bullshit he can't even hear himself spout, Eddie's eyes are still locked on him.

"I haven't seen you all week," Eddie says gently, and his hand cups the back of Steve's neck. Steve's on fire immediately, like he has been since the first time his hand rested there. "I didn't think I'd see you tonight."

"You know me," Steve says, watching the grin shift on Eddie's lips. "I'm where the party's at."

"You have to be fucking kidding me," Amelia says. Neither of them look at her.

[moongirlrhea]

azriel and his best friend - a drabble

i sat down at my laptop and this just came out? english is not my first language so if you see any typos, no u didn’t

series masterlist is here

word count: 1.7k

open to feedback, let me know what you think and if you want to see more of these two!

“Az, could you fly me down to the rainbow later? I need to- shit! … run a few errands” he faltered hearing his best friend’s distracted voice. Smiling faintly he crossed the room to her bedroom.

“Love, are you alright?” hand raised to knock, Azriel stood in front of her door.

“Love?”

“Sorry! Yes, yes! Fuck, can you come in here?” He was inside her bedchamber before her sentence was finished. An amused smile started to form over his face as he watched his sweet girl standing in front of her vanity mirror, struggling with the bow tied up in her hair.

“I fucked up, I think,” their eyes met in the mirror, her face a mix of exasperation and amusement

“Could you help?” she asked sheepishly. Azriel got on it with no words said, frowning.

“You wear this hairstyle everyday, how did you even do this…” he muttered, meeting her eyes in the reflection again

“Leave me alone”

Amusement swam in the shadowsinger’s hazel eyes at the groaned response. He looked around the room, at the clothes thrown haphazardly on the bed, an empty tea cup from last night and half finished sketch of her new project on the floor. He was almost done fixing her hair. “Hairbrush?” she handed it to him, and he brushed her golden-brown locks.

“Where am I taking you again?”

“Oh! I need to get some new fabric for that new dress I’m making. Can you believe it? I’m completely out of red after all the gowns I made for Mor…” she trailed off, and Azriel hummed.

“Who’s this one for?”

“Cass asked me to make a dress for Nesta. He is taking her somewhere for their anniversary I think?”

“Thank the gods, we’ll get a few days of peace around here” even years after their mating, the pair was still impossible to be around in the same house at night. Many evenings ended with the shadowsinger and his best friend hiding away in his room, while his shadows sound-proofed the chamber. Azriel did really hate having to run from Cassian and Nesta and their activities in his own home, but after his best friend started joining him more and more often, those nights became his favorite. He missed the peace of their late-night talks, an often occurrence decades before, later lost to Amarantha and the war.

Her snort stopped his trail of thought just as he finished tying the blue bow containing half of her hair.

“Alright, done. Ready to go?”

Later that day, they walked along the sidra, raspberry pastry in one of his hands, bag of newly bought fabrics in his other.

“My family wants me to come home for starfall this year” Azriel’s head whipped in the direction of her voice, though her head was down, staring at the cobblestones. Home is Velaris, Azriel thought. And you’re family.

“Is that why you haven’t been annoying me with how you don’t know what you want to wear this year?” he felt stupid before he even finished making the joke. He knew how her relationship with her blood-relatives looked. Azriel stared at the side of her head, hoping she would face him. Knowing she would not.

“Sweetheart…”

“I don’t know, Az. I don’t wanna go. Does that make me a bad daughter?”

“You know it doesn’t.”

“I need to be reminded sometimes, I think.”

The wind whipped around them, making the waves of the sidra sing. People walked past the pair, rushing to get home amidst the late-november starfall preparations.

“You will stay here, if you don’t want to go. They can talk to me first if they have an issue with that” he heard her sigh, but she didn’t say anything more, only laid her head upon his shoulder. He brought her closer with his wing, shielding her from the winter wind.

“Bite” he brought the pastry he was holding down to her lips.

“Mm! This one is my favorite, I think.” she said, tongue darting out to clean up some raspberry jam that got on her cheek.

“It’s a bit sour, no? I prefer chocolate.” she chuckled, head lifting for green eyes to meet hazel ones. He swore the freckles on her cheeks, rosy from the cold, formed constellations.

“That’s because you have a massive sweet tooth. Why did you get this one then?”

“It’s your favorite”

“Az, I didn’t even know it was my favorite until like, three minutes ago.” Her eyebrow lifted, wide eyes staring at him.

“Well, I know lots of things. Spymaster, remember?” Azriel was looking down at her mischief dancing in his eyes. Walking at a relaxed pace, air fresh and good around him. Or maybe it was just that she was next to him.

“Oh, right then, excuse me” his best friend was chuckling, her head resuming its past position on his shoulder. The sun was beginning to set around Velaris, the temperature getting colder, but that did not seem to bother the pair who kept walking huddled against one another. It was an uncommon thing to see the shadowsinger so relaxed and at peace, except for when he was with her. Life was good then, and the air smelled of something sweet, and Azriel could not comprehend how something could be bad, so long as she stayed at his side.

Shadows danced around them as they took a turn after walking past one of the pastel buildings, the sidra beginning to disappear behind them, the mountain now in sight. She hummed, and then said:

“I’d rather be here anyway”

“Hm?”

“With you. I’d choose you over them anytime, you know? You’re my family” and something so right snapped in place in Azriel’s chest. He hummed, leaning down to lay a kiss upon her temple.

“Yeah,” he mumbled “I know. You’re mine too.”

Azriel knew she would be coming before he heard her knock upon his door and his shadows rushed to welcome her in. Two steaming mugs of tea were already sitting on his bedside table, the cobalt covers pulled down to make space for her.

“Look, I have these two shades of blue. I can’t decide. Maybe I should incorporate them both?” she rushed into his room like a storm, throwing the fabric samples at him, claiming her space on his bed as he caught them. Azriel blinked at her.

“For the starfall dress, Az” she was blowing at the tea, trying to cool it down, smiling at him. Azriel, absentmindedly, smiled back.

“Oh,” he fiddled with the fabric. “The darker one is nicer” he looked at her as he sat down on the bed, across from her.

“You think? Look, here are the designs I made "

"They’re beautiful,” she passed him his tea, “Very… Hm. Sireny” she kicked her legs up into his lap

“That is what I was going for! I miss summer terribly-"

"I wouldn’t know how often you complain about it” he looked at her with mischief in his eyes, a smirk threatening to break across his face, quickly washed off by the pillow she threw at him. He let her. Well deserved, he thought. “Hey! Leave me alone. I literally don’t even talk about it that much” she huffed, sipping her tea, and he found himself smiling again.

“I can take you, you know.”

“Where?” a tendril of shadow twirled around a strand of her hair, then around the shell of her curved ear. She did not even notice.

“Summer court. Or some other warm place. Wherever you’d like "

"You’d take a weekend off of work?” she was smiling faintly, hope already blossoming in her wide eyes.

“A whole week, perhaps” she gasped at that, sitting up, the tea sloshing around the rim of the cup, a shadow darting up to stabilize her hands.

“I wonder what Rhys would say. He needs to leave you alone” she threw her head back

“Which you’ve made perfectly clear to him last week, hm?”

“I stood up for you! He’s making you overwork yourself and you don’t even say anything-” she was still talking, but all Azriel could do was stare at her, clad in a nightgown and laying amongst his sheets, like she owned them, like she was his, his wife, his-

“Azriel? Are you even listening to me?” he breathed. The moonshine made her look ethereal.

“So, a trip to Summer next month after starfall?”

“Cassian will be so mad”

“Cassian can suck it” she laughed again, bathed in moonlight, throwing her head back like a little kid.

“Yeah,” she beamed at him “Yeah, he can”

Later, after they were done with the tea, and his best friend unconsciously started drifting closer to him, Azriel moved up the bed. Cleaned up the fabric and pages of dress projects scattered around the bed, stacking them neatly next to his bed.

She yawned as he sat down and pulled the covers around them both.

Azriel hummed, a stupid smile breaking across his face, as always anyway when he watched her unapologetically make herself comfortable, drifting closer to his side and finally burying her head in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. He hummed as his arms and wings came around her, and as he felt her breathing even out in the quiet of the night. He smoothed a hand down her hair. His sweet girl. He was so lucky to hold her that, even if her family truly were not so bad, he would never relate to them for letting her go so easily. For not cherishing her and caring for her, as she should be cared for - with the utmost attention the world could offer. Maybe that was just it - he was the only one able to offer her the care she deserved. She was meant to end up in his arms, after all. Yes, that must be it. His shadows must have agreed as well, with how they wove around her. And even if her best friend was all he could call himself, Azriel would take it. Greedily.

[extraaa-30]

was abruptly struck by just how adorable* it is that the angel & demon older than time itself had some of their most frequent dates at museums and art galleries.

like. do they reminisce about past people & places? fill each other in on events the other missed? do they point out objects they once owned or portraits they sat for? or are they just so delighted by humans and our infinite desire to understand the past and each other and collect beauty and memories and try to work out how we got here.

all of the above?

*it's just...cute. it's sweet or insane or... something.

feeling feelings about our eldritch useless gay guardians, who love each other and humanity so much

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Ludos Imperiales 13

Summary: Rhys and Reader return to the River House after the latest order from the Emperor

Content Warnings: Blood and Descriptions of Injuries (a little more wound tending because they deserve it, as a treat); Drug Use (we're just going to keep using mirthroot as a pain reliever instead of Opium like the Romans used to use); Jealous!Rhys, just a lot of sexual tension, but nothing NSFW (yet)

Previous Chapter/Masterlist

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

The River House looms ahead like a crouching lion, the few lights shining through the windows like eyes watching my approach. 

Starlight shifts uneasily beneath me, like she can sense my apprehension. I run a hand soothingly up her neck as we enter the front gates, an entourage of the Guard following behind me. Father had sent someone for Rhys before dinner was over, the lights in the guest wing still on. I’d hoped to check on Azriel and Cassian before coming home, but the Guard had made that impossible. 

Anise is waiting at the front door as I approach with one of the stable boys at her side to collect my mount. 

I bite down on the inside of my cheek when I see her. This is going to be unpleasant.

“I was starting to think you weren’t coming home,” she says by way of greeting.

I dismount, pausing briefly to scratch Starlight under the chin before I pass off her reins. “You have a funny way of showing your concern.”

She doesn’t wince, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t show an ounce of remorse for slipping me that faebane. My chest tightens; it is an effort to keep my chin up. How could she do this to me?

“I am only looking out for you. As I promised your Mother I would.”

The Guard disperses behind us to attend to their individual duties as I stand there staring up at the place that had once been my sanctuary. This was the one place in the Empire that was mine; where Father couldn’t get his claws into it. It was my safe place to escape to and the one person in this entire godsforsaken place that I thought I could trust had ruined it.

I don’t want to argue with her. These last couple days have been bad enough. I can’t keep my shoulders high as I walk the couple steps to the doorway. When she reaches out to me, I flinch out of reach. 

“Don’t touch me,” my powers stir beneath the surface of my skin. 

Her weathered hand drops to her side and for a moment we stand there in the doorway, strangers. 

I am glad that I never told her the truth, glad that some part of me knew that there were some things she didn’t need to know. I’d thought I was protecting her, but in the end it had protected me. 

“You have to see that I made this better,” she tries.

I turn wordlessly and enter the house, leaving her to jog to keep up with me. Half way down the hall, I remember how she’d snuck up behind me last time and turn just as she catches up. Darkness slips from my fingers as I face her, leaving the ether weaving like smoke between us.

She eyes it curiously. “You’re in control again.”

“Go to bed, Anise.” My voice is cold. I sound like my Father.

Now she flinches. “I am helping you.”

“Go,” I repeat. “If I need something from you, I’ll send for you.”

She retreats back a step as the words hit home, as she realizes just how much damage she’s done. I’ve never, not even as a child, treated her like she was a part of the staff, she’d always been family and I’d always addressed her as such. I’d even gotten after other members of the staff for treating her like she was anything other than family. Tears pool in the corners of my eyes and I bite the inside of my cheek as I watch her come to the same realization.

“Little one,” she whispers, voice cracking.

The words come out through my teeth, “Go or I’ll involve the Guard.”

She runs her hands over her skirts and squares her shoulders, even though her breath shakes out of her. “You will understand my actions one day.”

I wait in the hall until I hear the door to her wing of the house open and shut, hands clenching and unclenching at my sides the whole time. Only when I hear the door shut do the tears start flowing and I barely make it to my chambers before a sob slips past my lips. My back hits my door as my body slides out from beneath me and I bury my head in my knees to muffle the noise. 

Exhaustion makes all my bottled emotions all the worse and everything from the last few days comes flooding in at once. Anise. The Arena. My mates being flogged and dumped in those awful cells. It is just one thing after another. On top of this lovely new predicament: If I don’t come up with some kind of clever lie, the Illyrians rotting in an Imperial prison are dead and I’ll never have my mates together in one place again.

I don’t know if my head or my heart is heavier. I sit there in the dark for a long time, until there are no more tears left to cry. My body feels like dead weight as I try to shuffle my way into the bathroom and clean off the city and all its troubles from my skin. Every move feels like a lifetime as I finish and slip into some sleep clothes and snag the mirthroot from my bedside table. It is sheer force of will that makes me abandon the call of my bed and head out for the kitchen.

Goddess when was the last time I’d slept?

The House is quiet save for the patrolling of the Guard outside and I wearily make my way through the kitchen and into the cellar. Just a few more minutes; I need to know that Rhys is ok. That the journey over didn’t ruin the Healer’s work on his back. Then I can sleep for a couple hours. I can come up with a new plan in the morning. I’ll fix this. I’ll make it right in the morning.

The secret passageway is lighter than it should be, the tunnel a shade of gray that tells me there’s light coming from the other end. Distantly, I can hear shuffling. 

Anise is the only other person in this House who knows about them, if she’s here, trying to do something to my mate…

My powers flare from my fingertips as I force my legs to move faster, steps rushed as I round the bend. Light spills from the open doorway on the other end, but it’s not Anise standing there in the tunnel. It’s Rhys.

I come to a sliding halt, nearly tripping as my mind catches up with my body. 

He keeps a hand on the wall, nearly holding himself upright with his fingertips, bandaged chest heaving from the exertion. 

“What the Hel are you doing?” I blurt as I rush to his side. Is he stupid? He’s going to ruin his back beyond repair moving like this!

His dark hair falls messily into his eyes, sweat dripping off the ends from how hard he’s been fighting his own body just to get this far. “I thought…” he fights to catch his breath, even as he raises a hand to touch my cheek. “I felt something down the bond. I thought you’d been hurt.”

Selfless bastard.

I wrap my hand around his wrist. “I’m all right.”

His thumb soothes over my cheek. “You’ve been crying.”

I draw his hand away from my face and pull it down over my shoulders, so the bulk of his weight is now on me and not the wall. “You need to get back into bed.” Gingerly, I slide an arm around his hips, where the damage is the least. His whole body is damp with sweat. 

He grunts as we turn back the way he’d come, body moving as sluggishly as I feel. “Why were you crying?” He asks through his teeth.

Goddess he’s heavy! It takes every bit of strength I have to let him use me like a crutch to get out of the tunnels, and the going is incredibly slow. If I make it back to his bed without dropping him it’ll be a miracle.

“I’m just tired,” I say as we pause at the altar. He slips his arm off my shoulders so he can fumble for the door and I rush to close it before he hurts himself.

“Liar,” he huffs. 

I get his arm repositioned around my shoulders once it’s closed, strength renewed slightly from the break. Fitting through the door is a little tricky, but finally we manage to get into his chambers and onto one of the beds. His ruined pants leave mud and blood stains over the stark white sheets. 

I climb around behind him on my knees to check his bandages, not at all surprised by the fresh blood stains that spread across them, but no less frantic in my search for new ones. I flitter about the room, rummaging through drawers to find fresh cloth and a basin for clean water. Where did I leave those oils and things I’d brought to them the other night? His whole back needs to be redressed.

I’m about to leave the room to grab things from the kitchen, when he catches my wrist to stop me. His grip is not at all strong, I could easily slip from his grasp, but the motion halts me in my tracks all the same. He might have repeated the question, but I was so busy trying to find things, it didn’t register that he had spoken through all the noise in my head.

“Hey,” he says gently, eyes full of concern. “Stop.”

He pulls me closer so I’m standing between his legs, close enough that I can feel the heat coming off his body. “I’m ok.”

Nothing about any of this is ok. “You shouldn’t have gotten out of bed.”

His hand drifts up from my wrist all the way up my arm and over my shoulder so he can touch my cheek again. The move has to be excruciating, his mouth pinched tight, but it doesn’t stop him. “Tell me what happened.”

Stubborn Illyrian. Of course I’m not going to talk about my problems when his are so much worse, but of course he’s not going to act like they are problems when I’ve clearly been crying about it. We’re both stubborn like that I suppose.

One of us has to bend somewhere, and I’d rather he not jump out of bed to follow after me again. 

I sigh as I lean my forehead down against his, relishing in the contact with him. The bond feels as if it hums in relief every time we touch and some of that tension that has sat coiled in the base of my spine for the last couple of days eases in his presence.

“Anise was waiting at the door when I arrived,” I admit.

His eyes go dark for a moment. He apparently wasn’t so delirious in his cell that he’d forgotten what she’d done to me either. The tether in my chest heats as some of his anger shoots down it. 

“She’s the only real family I have,” the words slip out of me despite my best attempts to swallow them. “And she isn’t even sorry for it. She said someday I’d understand.”

“There’s no excuse for doing that to you,” he growls. “She could have gotten you killed.”

It’s not that drastic, it’s not like she threw me into the Arena. “We have enough enemies,” I sigh. “It would have been nice to have someone in our corner.”

“You’ve got us,” he assures as I absently trace my fingers along his bruised jaw. There’s several days worth of stubble growing out of his face; I think I like him a little scruffy looking. “Others will follow.”

I frown a little at that, remembering the conversation with my Father. 

“What?” The frown does not escape him.

“You just reminded me of the conversation I had with my Father over dinner.” I pull away to resume looking for bandages. As much as I could stand here, tracing the planes of his face for hours, memorizing every inch of him until it’s burned into my memory, talking about all this is starting to make me antsy again. I need to do something with my hands. I don’t exactly want to be looking him in the eyes when I tell him my Father told me to seduce him. 

“A comparison I’d rather not have made,” he huffs.

I return a moment later, carefully balancing a bowl full of water in one hand and bandages in another. “Are you able to turn around?”

He tries to, I have to give him credit for even attempting after all the movement he’s already made tonight. He gets all of an inch, face twisting in agony, a sound somewhere between a sob and grunt slipping past his clenched teeth. 

It’s going to be too painful and too hard for me to try and turn him around, my best bet is to climb around the other side and pull him back to the opposite edge so that cleaning him up doesn’t soak the bed and leave him to sleep in a puddle. 

“This is going to hurt,” I say apologetically. 

He huffs as he tilts his head back, leaning against my shoulder as I get my hands on his hips. The jasmine and citrus scent of him envelops me. The urge to lean forward and press my lips to his neck is overwhelming as the bond roars for more contact. My mate is in pain, and it feels like that little tether linking us together demands I do something, anything to fix it.

“It already hurts, it can’t be worse,” he says.

“On three?”

He draws a shaky breath. “On three.”

“One,” my fingers dig into his hips. The sheet, theoretically, should move with his weight, making it easy enough to slide him backwards, but I know even this amount of pressure will break open whatever scabs might have formed along his back. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok, Darling,” he assures, but I still feel him tense in preparation. 

Which is exactly why I pull him backwards on two instead, so he’s not so tense it makes it worse.

“Fuck!” His shout is loud enough to wake the house and now I’m tense, waiting for one of the Guard to come running, but no one does. 

“Sorry.” I say once I’m sure its safe.

His breathing is ragged as he asks, “What happened to three?”

“You were too tense, it was gonna make it worse.” As is, I see a new swatch of blood staining his bandages. 

“Cruel, wicked thing,” he huffs, as I reach around him to untie the knot of bandages at his chest.

I move as carefully as I can, wincing every time blood sticks the bandages to his flayed skin. The wounds look better today, if you can call deep gouges in his skin better. The swelling has gone down. Despite the fresh blood, the cuts are still clean, no sign of infection to be seen. 

I pass the mirthroot and liter I’d brought from my chambers into his hands in silent offering as I start the terrible process of cleaning out the cuts. The room soon turns hazy under the smoke as he brings it to his lips and breathes in deep. The pain has to be terrible if he isn’t even trying to fight me on using it. 

I try not to make a mess of the bed, but the sheets are probably already ruined considering he’s still wearing the pants from the Arena. He really shouldn’t sleep on them after this, but at this point in the evening I’m not sure how I’m supposed to get him out of them and into a clean bed. 

“What happened with your Father?” He asks as the mirthroot starts to take effect, his shoulders relaxing, breathing evening out. 

I wince as I dab at a particularly deep cut. “He’s getting impatient.”

Rhys snorts at that. 

“He wants to know if you had allies,” I continue. “He doesn’t think you could have beat him without any.”

“What did you tell him?”

He deserves to know about his men; I hate that I have to be the one to tell him. “He’s been trying to get it out of your men.”

He flinches like I’d hit him. 

“His attempts have been unsuccessful, even Amarantha is at a loss. Brannagh offered her services in trying to pry the information from their skulls.” How exactly do I go about explaining this next part? “I told him to wait, that you trusted me enough to tell me eventually.”

“He believed you?” 

I use a dry cloth to dab the water off his skin. I don’t want any extra moisture beneath the bandages. “He made some… suggestions on the methods.”

He turns his head enough to look at me, the collar scraping under his chin. “He wants you to torture me?” There’s a bit of laughter in his tone, but there is genuine curiosity there. 

“Not exactly,” I’m stalling now, embarrassed to even say it out loud. 

“How do you ‘not exactly’ torture someone?” He retorts. 

I take his hand and raise it gently, so he can hold one end of the bandage in place so I can start rewrapping his chest. “He um…” I take my time, making sure the lines are even and not too tight, pausing every now and then in case he needs to tell me this is making the pain worse. “Well he sorta suggested I appeal to the bond…”

I know I’m not making sense, but my cheeks are such a deep shade of crimson I can feel the heat coming off them. 

“Darling?” 

“He might have told me I should try to seduce you, since that’s all he thinks a bond is anyway.” The words come out in such a massive rush I’m not even sure he can make sense of it. It certainly takes him several seconds before a grin splits across his face. 

“You’re messing with me.”

“I genuinely wish I was.” I grimace as I reach around him again to tie the bandages, hands near trembling as the knot tightens over his heart. The beat is steady, even thanks to the mirthroot, unlike mine, pounding in my ears from the embarrassment. 

“But you agreed to do so?” There’s still a hint of amusement in his tone, but I do not miss the octave in which his voice drops, becoming huskier. His scent changes, just slightly, just enough for me to catch it. 

It’s not like I hadn’t made out with Azriel a couple days ago, I shouldn’t be surprised by my mate’s reaction. Yet the blush still tints my cheeks, heart still hammering beneath my rib cage as I climb off the bed to clear away the mess I’d made. Distance is good. I need to keep my head clear; I definitely don’t need to be thinking about him like that when he’s as injured as he is. 

“The alternative was letting Brannagh have her fun, or Amarantha,” just the thought of either of them being anywhere near my mates or their men makes my skin crawl. If they so much as look in their direction…

I give myself a little shake as I toss the soiled water out the nearest window and finally turn back to face him. Half bathed in moonlight, he looks like he’s waiting for someone to start carving his likeness into a slab of marble. There’s an ethereal glow in the flecks of silver in his eyes, like a thousand glittering stars. Even bloodied, beaten, he’s still the most handsome male I’ve ever laid eyes on. I could stare at him for hours and not grow weary of it. 

“He only needs to think it’s happening,” why am I rambling? He knows this. This is part of the game, I only need my Father to think I was obedient. “I didn’t… it seemed like the right thing to tell him.”

His grin is devilish, teeth glinting in the moonlight and I can’t help but feel like I just caught a lion in the middle of a hunt. “You’re not even going to try?”

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from blurting out the response I want to give him. This is stupid. We both need rest. He needs to get out of his ruined clothes and sleep. I need to focus. This is not the time to be flirting with this idea.

I move slowly, unsure of myself now as I kneel at the side of the bed, hands reaching for the laces on his muddy boots. I know he can’t bend to take them off. There’s still ash from the Arena over the laces, black smudges dotting my fingertips just from putting my hands on them. He almost died. I almost lost him and Cassian to that Arena. 

Rhys’s eyes widen. “I was kidding.”

“I know.” There is some resistance in the leather, but I manage to get his boots off and toss them near the door. I can clean them tomorrow. There’s probably blood in them, if the stains on his socks are any indication. 

My hands drift slowly up his calves, over his knees and thighs. He’s all lean muscle beneath his ruined pants. 

The violet of his eyes rapidly shrinks until it’s nearly all pupil as I lean forward to untie the laces of his leathers. They have to be Illyrian made, there’s nothing quite like these in the Empire. I definitely didn’t find them in the markets the other day. It’s fitting. I think a piece of me might die if I had to see him in Imperial clothes, dragged around like a dog on a leash. 

“I think…” I check the door to make sure no one has crept up on us when I wasn’t paying attention. “I think I can crack the collar, so that you can heal faster.”

He slowly, stiffly raises a hand, fingers caressing my cheek. “You know you can’t do that. He’ll know it was you.”

“There has to be some way for me to help you?” I press.

“You just did, Darling,” he returns. Voice so low it makes a little shiver run down my spine. 

I hope and pray my own scent isn’t so obviously changing. 

“Can you lay down, so I can get these off you? You shouldn’t sleep in them.”

If he wasn’t so clearly in pain, the way he flops onto his side on the bed might have been comical, face buried in the sheets with a muffled grunt. I help roll him fully onto his side and then make my best attempt at being quick to pull his pants over his hips, trying my hardest not to catch his underthings and leave him completely naked in the bed. 

Still, that damn blush won’t leave my cheeks, because I’m undressing my mate and we’re both very aware of each other at this moment. 

I toss the pants onto the floor with his boots. I’ll deal with the mess in the morning.

I don’t ask for permission as I crawl under the covers; I don’t think I need it, not when he immediately draws his arm around my waist, fingers tapping along my hip in a silent plea to be closer. We’re nose to nose now, sharing a breath and I can’t stop myself from tracing my fingers over his bandaged chest. 

“Thank you,” he says softly, fingers idly toying with the loose fabric of my nightgown. 

“We should probably try to get you a bath in the morning.”

“Only if you join me,” he purrs.

“Could you even raise your arms above your head to wash your hair if I didn’t?” I retort, trying to keep the conversation from going too far. 

“Probably not,” he concedes. 

My fingers travel higher, over that awful collar, the gorsian stone feeling like it saps some of the ether beneath my skin from a simple touch alone, and over his stubble lined jaw. It’s a pleasant sensation against my smooth skin, but I’m more interested in the yellowing bruise beneath. 

“Who did this to you?” My fingers trail higher, to the cut beneath his eyebrow. “You didn’t get these in the Arena.”

“Couple of the guards the night before,” he says, eyes drifting closed under my ministrations. Exhaustion ripples down the bond, I genuinely don’t know how he even has his eyes open, let alone how he managed to make it half way down the tunnel looking for me.

“Their dead males,” I promise.

He snuggles closer, bandaged chest brushing my own, lips ghosting over my neck as he rests his head against my collarbone. My whole body shivers under the contact, heat pooling between my legs. I know my own scent has changed. 

“You’re going to be too busy seducing me for violence, Darling.”

I snort despite myself. “I’m serious, Rhys.”

“So am I,” he says with a yawn. “I think you should give it your best shot.”

A challenge the bond shimmers in response to, the heat pooling between my legs turning into an ache that’s becoming hard to ignore.  “Ask me again tomorrow,” I grumble, fingers dragging absently through his hair as I fight my neediness to shut my eyes. We can figure this all out tomorrow. Tonight I can hold my mate. Tonight, that’s enough.

---

It’s by some miracle that Anise doesn’t come storming down the secret passage in the morning; especially since I sleep way past breakfast, the sun high and streaming through the curtains by the time I finally drag myself awake. Rhys still slumbers beside me, exhaustion keeping him under, even though he’d kept an arm around my waist all through the night. 

He’s even more beautiful when he’s asleep, somehow. All the sharp planes of his face relaxed, no worry to furrow his brow. My hands itch to trace the fractions of light splaying across his bronze skin, following the patterns over his full lips and high cheekbones, but I won’t risk waking him. 

I can hear the Guard patrolling outside. I don’t know how often they actually come inside to ensure their prisoner hasn’t escaped. Yet, I allow myself a few selfish moments to lay there, drinking him in all the same. What I would give for real mornings like this. No collar around his throat. No Guards outside. Just the two of us, tangled under the sheets, exploring each other.

My chest aches at the loss. What I would give to be normal people. I would get up and make breakfast in a small kitchen, no staff to worry about gossiping over my every move; I’d bring my mates breakfast and wake them up with gentle kisses. There would be no pain, no wounds, no Empire.

“You’re going to burn a hole in my head,” Rhys says, voice thick with sleep, startling me out of my revery. 

Despite my better judgement, I lean forward and press a kiss between his eyebrows, his skin warm from the sunlight and not a fever for the first time in days. That’s a good sign, at least.

His arm tightens around my waist, holding me against the firm planes of his chest. 

The bond thrums, I get a flash of blatant need down it so intense it makes my head spin. My eyes go to his lips, watching with bated breath as he takes me in, eyes once again dark and hungry. It’s a hunger I feel rumbling beneath my own skin. The bond aches for the contact. 

And yet there are footsteps outside the door, and a key rattling in the heavy lock they’d added to ensure there’s no escape.

There’s no time for words, Rhys releases his grip on me and I all but throw myself out the secret entrance, barely getting the door shut before the main one opens and the patrol stomps their way in.

I wait on the other side of the closed door, listening for telltale signs that someone had caught me, but it never comes.

There’s no sounds of them giving Rhys trouble either, just them checking to ensure he hasn’t somehow slipped out a window. Never mind they’re all too small for him to fit through, they have to be sure.

I wait until I hear the lock click back into place, but despite my base instincts, I turn and head for the opposite door. Everything in me screams to turn around, to find out what direction this morning might have otherwise gone before the interruption, but the rational part of me wins out. I need to make my presence known in the house. I need the staff to see me moving around, doing something other than hiding out. I will have to check on Rhys later.

---

It’s mid-afternoon by the time I find a free moment. After stealing some food from the kitchen, an Imperial steward had arrived with a mountain of paperwork to fill out from the GamesMaker. Turns out, even in an “undeserved” victory, there were still bets to sign off on, and payments to make. I spend several hours sifting through the paperwork, followed by a second steward with demands from the Arena’s Healer. At least they bring news of Azriel and Cassian with them: Their wounds are healing, about as slowly as Rhys’s, but slow progress is still enough progress to ensure neither of them will lose their wings. The steward refuses to allow me to send supplies back for my mates’, they only want payment for their work and the paperwork signed for the Healer so he has proper documentation that I’m the one who ordered him to do this. Seems there’s bureaucracy even in the underbelly of the Empire.

There’s a dull headache echoing in my skull from pouring over all the numbers. I rub my temples absently as I slip back through the tunnel to check on Rhys. I can’t ask any of the staff for help in this, it’ll only lend ear to gossip. I’ll have to do all this myself. 

He’s sitting upright, on the edge of the bed so he can watch out the chamber door, when I enter. 

“You didn’t come right back,” he pouts. 

“I unfortunately have appearances to keep… and a lot of paperwork,” I say, making a face. I hadn’t realized rebellions still required all this paperwork.

“Appearances didn’t stop you from kissing Az,” he says lowly.

“Is that what this is about?” I ask as I come to stand between his legs. Instinctively, I take his chin between my forefinger and thumb, tilting his head back so I can look him in the eyes. “You’re jealous?”

Those violet eyes gleam in defiance. I know that I’m only holding him like this because he’s allowed it. Even with the gorsian stone in place, he is far from powerless. Everything about him screams predator, like a large cat in the wild, sleek and beautiful, but deadly nonetheless. I’d be no match for him in a fight; at least out of practice and untrained in combat as I am now. Maybe one day, with time and training (I can picture it now: Cassian, shirtless, drenched in sweat marching me through the paces…) could the playing field be level, could I see just how equal we are. But not now, as I am. 

It’s a heady rush that trails down my spine, sitting hot and heavy in my lower belly.

“Yes,” he says, voice barely a whisper, like he doesn’t dare admit he wants it outloud. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment I laid eyes on you. I’ve barely been able to think every time you walk in the room. Everything about you is captivating.”

My heart skips a beat in my chest. What does someone say to that?

“And I told myself that I would be patient, that I had to be patient, that being honest about how godsdamned badly I’ve needed to know what you taste like is a danger to all of us. I have managed to tamp down on that urge every day… and then Azriel comes back one day after you’d asked for him to accompany you and he can’t stop talking about how soft your lips are, or the way you card your fingers through his hair. He won’t shut up about how your body feels again him and damn me I almost walked through that fucking tunnel and risked everything just for a single taste.”

I am royally and utterly fucked.

“And I know that it’s stupid, but I can’t stop myself from wondering why you haven’t tried with me. What’s so wrong with me that you would choose him first? That you could make that move with him and not me?” His hands move tentatively to my hips, as if he’s scared that I’ll evaporate if he touches me. 

“You have orders to seduce me and yet you pull back.”

I’m in too deep to back out now. I can’t just walk away from this one and pretend that I don’t have an answer for him. I’ve never seen a male look so vulnerable in their lives. This battle hardened, Illyrian rebel is pouring his heart out onto the floor in front of me, and I think I love him all the more for it. Because he could, and maybe he should be, cruel and harsh and angry at the world, angry at me for being born what I am, but he’s choosing not to.

“I never meant to hurt you,” I say and he gives a nearly imperceptible shutter of relief. “I’m just…” The words lodge in my throat, heart hammering beneath my ribs. He’s so close, it would take a mere heartbeat to put my lips to his. “I’m scared that if I start I won’t be able to stop.”

And that’s the truth. I barely kept my head with Az and that was after we got caught and nearly ruined everything before it even had a chance to start. We’re in even deeper now and how can I let my heart get the better of me? How can I be selfish when people are dying?

“There’s also the matter of you barely being able to stand,” I mutter.

He grins then, face aglow with starlight. “My mouth is still working fine, Darling.”

“I guess we could test that,” I say, leaning in a hairwidth closer.

His hands grip my hip tighter in anticipation. I can practically taste his desperation through the bond and our lips haven’t even touched yet.

“I think we should,” he agrees.  I press my lips to his in a quick peck, intending to tease him and pretend to pull away, but before I can even get anywhere, his hand jumps from my hip into my hair, tangling in the long strands as he pulls me back in for a real, proper kiss. I feel the rumble of a moan against my palm as I brace myself against his chest. The jasmine and citrus scent of him envelops me as he slips his tongue behind my teeth and there’s only one, dangerous thought in my head: I’d been right; now that I’ve had a taste, I never want to stop.

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

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As always let me know if you wanted to be added to the tag list, and thank you all for being so patient I know it's been a hot minute since I updated. Might make the next chapter smutty as a treat.

[potatoplace]

the 1

Elriel, Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Alternate Endings: Gone | betty | The Prophecy

mini-series masterlist | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: All you had ever wanted to be was plain. And now, as a plain-faced High Fae, you want more. You want your mate.

Warnings: mentions of self-harm, self-loathing, suicide

Words: ~2.6k

Author's Note: I'm sorry. (I told you guys I've been having a rough week...) Apparently my brain is saying 'fuck Kinktober!' Even tho like. I WANT to write those... smut just doesn't feel in the cards for me today 😩 so have some tasty tasty angst instead. (I'm also watching an Eras Tour live so I'm hella cheered up now lol)

18+ only pls

🤍💙🩷💙🤍

Self loathing grew in your gut as you watched your family around you.

All of them were happy, reveling in the togetherness that they shared.

And your mate- your mate- was ignoring you. He was speaking to one of your sisters, absolutely enamored with her. And you couldn’t blame him.

Elain had always been the pretty one of the four of you, a shining diamond even in the filth of poverty.

Nesta was the one with regal beauty, her sharp eyes and the way she carried herself not letting anyone think otherwise.

Your twin, Feyre, was stunning, even if she herself had never seen it, the cleverness in her eyes and quiet grace drawing people’s gaze to her.

And then there was you.

You were… the ugly one. Your mother had said so, even though you were only a child when she passed. Your father had quietly agreed with her. Nesta had mocked your looks when she had had a bad day, which was nearly every day while you had been living in the run down hut after your family lost their fortune. Elain said nothing, but shot pitying looks at you when no suitor asked for a dance while you had still been human, even when it had been a ball thrown in your honor for your birthday. Feyre has been the kindest to you, reminding you that it’s what on the inside that counts…

But that didn’t appear to be so.

Even with a mating bond that you knew should draw Azriel’s attention, his eyes were still glued to Elain. He seemed to be able to breathe only when in her presence, taking in the same air as her.

And in your presence? He couldn’t seem to get away fast enough.

Being dumped into the Cauldron had made both of your sisters even prettier, and Feyre was no exception either after being turned High Fae.

For you, it had made you plain. No longer ugly, unless you counted the still crooked teeth and too small nose and thin mouth.

Just plain.

As a human, you had begged to whatever higher power there was that you could just be plain.

But now that you were, you knew it would never be enough.

Because while Feyre was right, your personality mattered more in a long term relationship than your looks, being pretty drew people in.

Being plain only made you fade into the background.

Azriel laughed at something Elain had said, the sound sending warmth through your body.

It should be you making him laugh, not Elain.

Elain, with her beauty and poise and perfect personality and her ridiculously handsome mate who wanted nothing but her time.

Elain, who seemed to want no one and no thing but your mate.

Your Azriel.

You tore your gaze away from the couple, who you already knew were in a relationship. Elain had confessed it to you a month ago, gushing about how their fifth date had gone and how she thought he was the one. She had told you first, knowing that you wouldn’t tell anyone.

After all, who would you tell?

It’s not like you had any friends in Velaris- or in the human lands, for that matter- and your other two sisters were so preoccupied with their mates and growing personal circles that they hardly had the time to look at you, let alone talk to you.

No. You were alone. You were a lockbox for all of her secrets.

Including that she was planning to officially reject the mating bond once Azriel offered a proposal of marriage.

That had made you sick to your stomach, but you had hidden it deep, deep down in your heart as you congratulated her and faked happiness, asking her when she thought he would propose.

“Any day now, I suspect. Azriel told me that he was planning for the future, and wanted to know if I would like to be a part of it,” she had sighed dreamily. “We just need to tell the family, I know that… Rhys was worried about what us being together would mean for court relations. But he’s just being dramatic, don’t you think?” Her chocolate eyes landed on you, so filled with hope that you couldn’t tell her that he was your mate.

“Yes, he’s just worried, ‘Lain. I’m sure everything will be fine,” you managed to say, and relatively normal at that.

That was last night, and while your eyes had drifted to the carpeting, they shot back upwards at the sound of clinking metal on glass.

Your mate, standing with a flute of sparkling wine in his hand and a knife in his other, had his arm locked with Elain’s.

He cleared his throat once he had everyone’s attention, his eyes passing over everyone-

But you. His eyes skipped over you, even now, with the bond flaring in your chest.

“Elain and I have something to announce, though Rhys already knows what it is.” You heard a hand slap against an arm, Rhys’s faked moan of pain, and Nesta scolding her mate. Azriel smiled at their antics, such a rarity on his face that your heart skipped several beats, leaving you lightheaded.

It most certainly wasn’t because of what they were announcing.

“Elain and I have been dating for the past two months, and we would like to make it official with you all now. In fact, the two of us will be moving into a cottage in town later in the month, and we would like to invite you all to join us for a housewarming party in two weeks.”

The inner circle broke into cheers around you, Cassian immediately encasing his brother in his arms and clapping him on the back.

“Congratulations, brother! I know you’ve waited a long time to find love.”

You remained seated where you were, offering a smile to the happy couple but staying put.

If you stood, you were sure to faint. Or be sick. Or both.

Nesta was the only other person who remained where they were, a skeptical look on her face.

“I hate to be the person to bring the party down…” She started, her voice weary. “But what of your mates? Haven’t you wanted one for your whole life, Azriel? What will happen when you find her?”

“If I find her, I will reject the bond, Nesta. My love for Elain eclipses that of what I thought possible, even with a mating bond. Nothing and no one will ever compare to your sister,” Azriel answered, which seemed to be enough to have Nesta’s approval, as she stood and made her way to the couple.

“Then I’m happy for the both of you. But if you ever hurt my sister, you will deal with me,” Nesta warned, ice in her tone.

You didn’t stick around to hear what came next.

Nothing and no one will ever compare to your sister.

And of course, he was right. How could you compare to Elain?

She was beautiful, yes, but she was also a perfect match for Azriel. Kind and caring, always ready to help people, not to mention she would be a wonderful mother.

And then there was you. Plain. Boring. Nothing special.

Even the Cauldron hadn’t thought anything of you, leaving you with a High Fae body but no magic to speak of.

You couldn’t even fathom why you had been made Azriel’s mate when Elain was such a wonderful pairing to him, and had the magical abilities to match.

You stumbled your way to the town house, where you had taken up residence once Feyre and Rhys had finished the river house. Once inside you quickly made it to your room and shucked off your clothes after locking the door.

Bare, you stood before the mirror and assessed yourself. It was a habit you had picked up once your family had regained their fortune after Feyre had been stolen away.

One that brought you no comfort, but you needed to do.

Your physique was fine, you had filled out in the past year of being fae.

But there was nothing… special about you. You were medium height. Your chest was a bit smaller than average. Your legs were on the shorter side, making your torso look too long.

And your legs… they were covered in small white scars.

Another habit that you had picked up, this time after turning fae.

And tonight would be no different.

You suppose the one saving grace of being turned fae was your quick healing, letting you destroy your body without anyone knowing.

And no one ever would, seeing as your mate was on his way to being married to your sister.

A sigh left your lips as you turned to your bed, fishing the small blade you kept underneath out from below the mattress.

Tonight would be no different.

Except now you knew that even if you confessed your bond to Azriel, your heart would be torn to shreds no matter what.

🤍💙🩷💙🤍

It was two months later, during Starfall, that your world crumbled further.

You had donned a plain dress in a midnight blue, with long flowing sleeves and reaching your feet. You had opted for flats, seeing as no one would pay you enough attention to notice if you were in heels or not.

No, no one would notice you at all.

Because Azriel had a ring in his pocket.

One that you had given him advice on, to choose something Elain would love.

A glutton for punishment, that’s what you were as you gazed at the beautiful couple, clad in matching blue outfits and beaming at one another.

You had attempted to stay home that night, only for Azriel himself to personally fly you up to the House of Wind, insisting that you needed to be there for Starfall.

You knew he meant their engagement, though.

He hadn’t even glanced your way once last Starfall, so you knew it wasn’t that you would be missed by him.

Still, you stood on one of the balconies, watching them. Waiting for the moment that your life would be forever altered, never to have a great love.

Because truly, your one chance at a great love was a mating bond. You knew that no one would choose you to spend their life with, not when you were so plain and boring with nothing to draw people in, to get to know you.

They were dancing together, so wrapped up in each other that it was painful to watch.

And then your feet were moving, leading you straight to them. You met them right as the song finished, the two of them just inches apart.

It stung.

“Azriel, may I speak to you for a moment?” You asked without realizing the words had left your mouth. “Alone, please? It will just be a moment, I promise.”

You cringed at yourself.

What were you doing?

Azriel glanced down at Elain, who nodded with a smile. “Of course. I’ll be right back, sweetheart,” he said softly, placing a gentle kiss to Elain’s lips before following you back into the House, away from the commotion.

“What’s this about, Y/N?” Azriel asked in a clipped tone once you were alone, anxiously glancing back to where you had left Elain.

“I…” You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. Are you really going to tell him?

“Well?” He asked impatiently, his shadows swirling around him.

“I… I’m your mate,” you said, the words rushing out all at once, and your tore your eyes away from his face and to the floor.

“You’re… You’re joking, right?” Azriel asked incredulously.

A dagger of ice to the heart, crafted of your own yearning and longing for him, for your mate.

“No, I… It’s true, Azriel. I am your mate.” Your eyes flicked back up to his face after you said it again, but you wished you hadn’t.

Anything would be better than seeing the horror in his eyes, the disgust twisting his features.

The dagger, forced in further by a hand smacking the hilt.

“You?” Azriel laughed. “Why would the Cauldron make you my mate?”

Twisting, bleeding, shredding your soul apart even as you felt the bond flare to life on his end, the very slightest stumble as he regarded you.

“I… I don’t know…” You whispered, barely audible.

“You’re not my mate,” Azriel said, stepping away from you. “You were never going to be my mate. You’re a fine enough person, sure, but how could you compare to Elain?” He shook his head, snickering to himself. “I suppose these five hundred years of waiting were for nothing. I’ll tell Cassian or Rhys take you back to the town house. Just…” He sighed. “Don’t take it personally. It’s not you, it’s me, hmm?”

And with that, the bond between the two of you was shredded, a wounded cry leaving your lips as you sank to the ground, clutching your chest where it used to reside, glowing brightly and giving you a reason to go on.

“I think it’s best for you to stay away from Elain and I. I wouldn’t want you getting territorial and ripping my love’s throat out of anything. Goodbye, Y/N.”

You barely heard him walk away, so overwhelmed with pain.

Why me?

Why was I his mate?

Why didn’t I just drown in the Cauldron?

With a great deal of trying, you managed to hoist yourself back onto your feet, stumbling your way to one of the unoccupied balconies, still clutching your chest.

Your gaping, empty chest.

Because Azriel still had your heart. He had shredded it, mangled it beyond believe but it still resided with him, leaving you with nothing but a hole where it used to be.

Your legs crashed into the edge of the balcony, your hands flying to the stone to steady you.

But it didn’t help, everything was still spinning, blood rushing in your ears as your heart kept beating somehow, somehow still physically intact even as you felt it was being ripped from your chest over and over and over.

You couldn’t breathe.

You couldn’t live.

The very fact that Elain was so casual, so blasé about shredding a bond to bits had you questioning everything you thought you knew about your sister.

How could she condemn someone to this existence?

Because already, you weren’t living.

This couldn’t be living.

It couldn’t be.

You risked a peak over the edge, spying the sharp, jagged rocks below.

If you weren’t living now…

Before you could second guess your choice, you lifted yourself onto the balcony, letting your legs dangle for a moment.

Then you swung them over the stone, to the side that had nothing to catch you.

Well, nothing but the cold embrace of death.

Which at this point would be a welcome reprieve from the fiery hot grief flooding through you, grief at the bond that was never given a chance, a moment to be considered.

But perhaps that was all the consideration you needed. To know that you would only have been a burden of mate to the male you had fallen for.

You took one last, jagged breath into your lungs before you slid off the smooth stone, air rushing past you and-

This must be what it feels like to fly.

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria

[ramblesbiab]

You cannot convince me this isn't the same genderfluid person pretending to be two separate people.

[utterlyazriel]

whom the shadows sing for — (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: if you have stuck around and waited u are INCREDIBLE thank u so much for ur patience <3 esp cos i'm still testing it with my slowburn lmao + tell me what u think lovelies and as always, enjoy

word count: 4.1k

synopsis: Azriel's shadows find a new way to torment their master. The question of forgiveness follows you. Cassian gets you in the ring, testing out newly learnt skills.

CHAPTER TEN :: SHADOWS

Azriel is a spy by his very nature.

It makes sense; the gift of Shadowsinger is never bestowed so lightly so that it could ever leave any doubt of the user. Shadowsingers are spies, even well before their gifts revealed themselves. Always watching. Always listening.

It was, then, a tad against his disposition to keep his nose out business that wasn't his — as that was precisely what Azriel did best.

But his decision was resolute. Azriel had promised himself he would not be the first to break the distance between you two.

However, for a fae over five-hundred years old, it's quite unsettling to yet again feel the pangs of impatience. Years of practicing restraint and then, in a mere few months, his hard earned patent for patience begins to fray at the ends. You'll be his undoing, he's sure of it.

Like a young and fresh-faced warrior itching for battle, it's almost embarrassing how Azriel can't seem to stay away from you. His feet wander and all paths lead to you.

His shadows are not helping.

Azriel thinks they've managed to get more insistent, which he hadn't really believe was possible. They've proven him oh-so wrong. When he walks the halls of the House of Wind, the dark wisps dart out, as though trying to tug him along.

He had trusted them all of two times before, face flushed and with an ungraceful but thankfully unnoticed exit, he learned just where they were leading him.

They were following the invisible thread between you, taking him to see his mate.

When it became clear he wasn't going to be coerced along, his shadows had only got more devious.

It's a particular brand of torture, Azriel thinks, to be delivered little parcels of knowledge of the person he's not allowing himself to see.

And they're ruthless about it. Whispers about how you're healing and the growing steadiness of your feet, the way you stand a little taller each day, about the tentative trust extended to Cassian.

Gods, that one had made his hand jerk across the paper in surprise, spilling a patch of ink onto the report he was in the middle of.

You were talking to Cassian— no, you were nearly friends with Cassian. The magnanimous hope had ballooned within him before Azriel remembered to stomp it back down.

Mor had teased him for the black stains on his hands during dinner.

He studies them now, nearly washed away completely, before he lifts his head. In the cool air of dusk, Azriel surveils the training ring from the shadows of the door, eyes scanning across the balcony.

It's empty, as expected. The rising moon is his only company.

You've stuck to training in the mornings, of course.

He's relieved and disappointed all at once—then Azriel forces that disappointment out of his system with a frustrated huff.

He is not allowed to be disappointed. Your trust is something he still needs to claw his way back to, to earn, and that required waiting and accepting that.

Azriel would see you... when you wanted to see him.

Despite his resolve, the thread between you still gives a futile tug before he can stop it. Scowling at himself, he rubs at his chest meanly, banishing the feeling. He steps down onto the balcony and heads towards the equipment.

As his scarred hands reach out and pluck one of the training staffs off the rack, his shadows twirls and trill, an almost teasing motion. It takes one pointed whisper, one tug on his heartstrings —they used that one just earlier today— before his hands are glowing warm from the second-hand touch.

His fingers spring apart and the staff hits the tiles with a loud clatter. Even though it's just him out on the balcony, he still casts an awkward glance around him. Gods

If his brothers could see him now, Azriel thinks dryly.

He swats at the shadow that had unhelpfully fed him the information. It dances away from him, swooping down to circle the staff on the ground with its others, a mass of black surrounding it.

Azriel bends down and gingerly picks up the staff, his hazel eyes staring at it for a long moment. Where your hands have been.

After a moment, his fingers curl around it. His marred hands feel like they're glowing again, warm and tingling, even if he knows it's all in his mind. Even so, he swears the golden thread between you hums, just ever so slightly.

He'll allow himself this, just this once, Azriel decides. His grip tightens and he heads to the ring, preparing to train, his hands where yours were just mere hours before.

—

The day after you had met Cassian, as the dawn breaks over sky, you find him on the training balcony before you.

You're a little later than you'd normally be, the sun actually rising before you do. You're moving a little more sluggishly too, but for once it's for a better reason.

Sleep, normally light and fitful for you, had actually been a reprieve last night. You slept deeply, falling into dreamless slumber and resting properly.

When morning crept in, dragging your eyelids up had felt like a mountainous amount of effort. Part of you wonders if it's because of the male across the balcony from you.

Allies, you had agreed upon.

It's a little easier to rest when you've made one less enemy.

Watching him now, stretching his supple and bulging arms, you have to force down the instilled anxiety that festers up, a force of habit that's kept you safe all these years.

You're not in Exordor anymore. You're not keeping any secrets.

Cassian clocks your hesitant stance in the doorway as he turns, a wide grin breaking across his face. His wings perk up, a genuine sign of his excitement. He stops his stretching momentarily to wave.

"Morning!" He calls out, despite the fact the distance between you doesn't require him to do so.

"Ally." He adds pointedly, leaning over to give an over the top wink.

Somewhere buried deep inside you, a laugh almost wants to wriggle free, but it's smothered before you can think too hard. You give him a wry smile instead, the best you can manage, and take a tentative step down onto the balcony. Your wings give a tiny shiver in the passing breeze.

"Good morning," You manage to return, the words sticking in your throat on the way up. It's awkward but nothing in Cassian's friendly demeanor changes to indicate he's noticed. Your feet lead you over towards the weapons rack.

It's as you reach them do you realise your heart is rabbiting wildly, pounding in your chest, stewing you in discomfort. The hair on the back of your neck rises, prickling with unease. Your back is turned to a fierce warrior, one that could very well attack you.

And worse, you'll be training next to him, still not healed, still stumbling on your feet—revealing all the ways to strike you down.

You—you haven't done this, ever. You haven't trained with someone completely as yourself, with no facade to hide beneath. It suddenly becomes incredibly vulnerable.

Your hand trembles as you reach out for the training staff and you try your best to swallow down your nerves.

Cassian has kept his distance, resuming his stretches, but you don't miss how his eyes dance over to you every couple of seconds. For a moment, it alarms you but as you find a place and settle into your stance, you steal another glimpse.

It's more like... a dog wagging its tail, you think faintly.

You press down the urge to smile and begin your exercises.

There's all of ten minutes of silence before it gets broken.

"How do you like Velaris?"

You pause in your motions, huffing to catch your breath as your grip the training staff loosens. You cast a glance over at Cassian who's now picked up one of the broadswords, beginning to throw its weight around easily.

You blink and for a moment, your eyes dart out over the edge of the balcony, to the city teeming with life, so close and yet so far from you. A part of you aches fiercely to see it.

"I... haven't been into the city." You answer honestly. It comes out curt and doesn't exactly answer his question.

Eyeing his sword nervously, your force your aching muscles through another series of exercises. You're a sliver better than the day before but when your ear twinges loudly, you still stumble, a minuscule motion. Your heart lurches up your throat, frustration welling like a tidal wave within you.

"Okay, then how do you like the House of Wind?"

You pause again, looking over to Cassian tentatively, the pain in your ear momentarily forgotten. The rising frustration in you dissipates at the distraction. He waves a casual hand over to the house you've been residing in since you arrived in Velaris and smiles once more.

You swallow thickly. What is his angle here?

"I haven't..." You struggle to put your thoughts into words. It's... different. New. Unsettling. You don't want to say the wrong thing. For all you know, this may well be his home.

Eventually, you find your voice. "I like my room. It's—" Several words ping to the front of your mind. "—big."

You cringe. Some compliment that is. You're too honest even if it is true; you're far too used to the familiar cramped space of your own cabin. Even sharing walls with others is foreign to you and you're incredibly thankful you haven't run into anyone unexpectedly in any corridors yet.

It doesn't occur to you that it might entirely be by design, thanks to Rhys' strict instruction.

Cassian grins. "Yes, I recall Illyria being hardly known for it's roomy cabins."

He swings the sword around with a flick of his wrist, more like an idle motion than anything. Your eyes still flicker down keenly, watching for any threat, just in case.

"So, you haven't explored the house much then?" Cassian continues, feigning a stab forward with the sword, his eyes on his motions but his attention still focused primarily on you.

You follow his lead and swing the training staff again, in an arching whoosh. You shake your head in answer to his question.

"Do you want to?"

"Do you always talk this much during training?"

The words come out before you can think to check them, sucking in a sharp breath as you realise how snappy that sounded. Like you're looking for a fight.

You ready yourself to sink into a defensive stance, before you realise that Cassian has only laughed in response. A curl of his tied back hair comes loose as he shakes his head, the action almost... fond.

"Only when I'm trying to make friends." He grins warmly, eyes flicking up to meet yours. "Sorry, I'll stop prying."

You swallow and nod slightly, hoping it won't be read as rude. Though you'd had a hard time believing it, Cassian had been true to his word; no fighting unless it was in the ring. You hadn't dared to go near it yet.

Readjusting your stance, you prepared to go through the motions once more. It's still a bit more of the juvenile exercises than you're used to—forced back to the basics as you retrain your body—but also because you're solitary training. You're used to sparring with others.

Stealing a glimpse at Cassian, you ponder if—if you might, eventually that is, train alongside him as you had done with Azriel.

Moving the training staff deftly, you thrust it forward and twist your lithe body to dart forward again, a small patter of your feet on the stone.

It's maneuver used for rushing opponents, throwing them off their balance and driving them backwards. It works for you, mostly, but the way your wings cut through the air, the slightest whistle through the holey scars, makes you a little unsteady.

"You fight like you're bigger than you are."

Straightening up, you breathe heavily and peer around the edges of your wings back at Cassian—who apparently isn't done talking at all.

He nods to you, in reference the maneuver you've just performed. "That is a move usually far better suited for someone of a larger stature."

You clear your throat, wings curling in a bit closer around you. "Yes. Azriel, he- he was trying to rectify that. There's only one way to train Illyrians, as I'm sure you know."

Cassian nods again, lowering the sword to hang at his side. "That I do. However, I feel Azriel may have been taking the wrong approach given... the information he was not privy to at the time."

Your brows knit together, something wrong twisting tightly in your chest.

"Because I'm..."

Female.

"Not a male?"

The words come out sharp without meaning to.

Cassian's picks up on your defensiveness, his expression softening. He gives a little so-so motion with his free hand, his wings rustling behind him. "A bit, but not for reasons you may think."

When you don't speak, he continues, his explanation unfurling.

"Your centre of gravity is different to ours. That actually changes the best way for you to fight. More of your strength comes from these—"

He slaps his hands down onto his thighs with a grin.

"—than from your arms. For that reason, there are moves you will be better at than what you've been taught."

Cassian cocks his head, his dark eyes squinting for a moment, deep in thought. "Azriel likely switched your training to agility based, didn't he?"

You nod gingerly. You had no idea if what he was said was true. If there was a fighting style suited to females. That would require... female warriors which, for all you've ever known, is a highly unlikely thing to exist.

Though, being he is the General of the Night Court's armies, you'd likely assume Cassian knows what he's talking about.

He nods, that same easy smile. "He was right to do so. Most camps focus on brute strength and stamina. Makes for good warriors that can take hits and keep going. You can train that way if you still wish but you might find you excel when your efforts are put elsewhere."

It takes a long moment before you realise exactly what his words mean.

An offer. He's offering to train you, to teach you.

Pleasant surprise blooms inside you, warm, curling up behind your ribs like a purring cat. Cassian's eyes are light and friendly, his body language relaxed as though if you turn him down, it'd be of no consequence to him. Merely an offer.

You turn it over in your mind, back and forth. The gentle wind from the mountains caresses across your cheekbones, a warm touch.

Inside, deep in your chest, there's something telling you to trust. To take the step forward, to accept Cassian's outstretched proposal. That you might regret it if you didn't.

"How?" Your eyes skirt up and down on instinct, still on alert for a threat that isn't coming.

Cassian grins infectiously, not even attempting to hide his glee. He rolls his shoulders back and assesses you once more.

"Have you ever heard of the headscissor takedown?"

—

Flesh hits stone, a large shuddering bang that echoes out the courtyard. In the distance, a couple birds take flight, squawking loudly. Pain ricochets through your knees, a warbling and jarring pain that has you gritting your teeth.

"You're..." Cassian's breath comes out raggedly. "Incredible!"

He beams from where he's pinned beneath you and your pain dashes away in a moment, something gleaning and prideful taking its place.

There's a rivulet of blood under his nose, his hair knocked loose, and you know hitting the ground as hard as he did won't have been nice. He continues on as if he hasn't.

"That was perfect form. You're a Cauldron-born natural!"

You huff a breath that might be an actual laugh this time and quickly retract yourself, standing to your feet. You waver momentarily, hesitance poisoning your thoughts, before you decide. Holding out your hand to help, Cassian is quick to put his hand in your own and use it to lug himself up.

When he gets to his feet, his grip loosens but he doesn't let go altogether.

"Hey," He says, more serious this time. His fingers around your wrist, soft and warm, still make your pulse jump nervously. You force yourself to meet his gaze, still friendlier than ever. "Seriously. You're very skilled and you're a fast learner. You've got the makings to be lethal. The Night Court is lucky to have you on our side."

His hand slips back, grazing your wrist, and you wonder if he can feel the way your heart skips a beat.

No one has ever been... lucky to have you. It's so foreign that hearing someone say it aloud makes you forget to breath for one long second.

"I—" The word pushes out before you think about it. "That's... You-"

Praise is not a part of Illyrian training. You fumble with it, feeling entirely out of your depth, feeling oddly proud of yourself. It feels like your cheeks are warmer than usual.

Cassian chuckles, wiping the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. "You're welcome." He says pointedly, making you realise you're supposed to say thank you after someone compliments you.

You flounder for another second, making Cassian laugh again, louder this time. He reaches forward and lightly taps you on the shoulder, a faux punch.

"You'll get used to it." He says. Part of you really, really wants to. "Now, c'mon. Let's go again. Hit me."

—

You think that now Cassian's got what he wanted—the two of you training together, learning the plethora of new moves, stances, blocks he has in his repertoire—he wouldn't have anymore questions.

You're sorely, sorely, wrong.

Two mornings later, the pair of you prepare for some sparring with the swords in the ring. Cassian's purposefully picked one of the heavier ones for himself, broad and long, but he'd put aside a blade for you.

It's smaller, lighter. It reminds you of Heartstriker.

Which reminds you of Azriel.

The mere thought of him has your heart humming, miserable and elated all at once. You're still not sure if you'd like to see him just yet, the confusing twist of betrayal too fresh, but still, some part of you seeks him out, consciously or not.

You want to wander the halls until you find the door to leads to him.

It's because he was your first friend. You reason, as you step up towards the sparring ring. He was the first person you trusted. Was? Is—maybe.

Do you still trust him?

Cassian is already in the ring, waiting as patiently as he can. His rustling wings give him away, even as casual as he looks leaned up against one of the corner posts.

His wings are stretched out, towards the sun's rays that are just beginning to slip over the horizon, trying to steal some of their warmth.

A yawn slips past your lips. The night of restful sleep was an outlier it seemed, the tendrils of a calming, easy sleep stolen away just as quickly.

Fingers curling around the hilt of the short sword, you step gingerly into the ring, eyes casting across to your opponent. You roll your shoulders back, warming up the muscles a bit more, and give your own wings a little shake. A shiver wracks through you in response, the chill of the morning touching on sensitive scars.

"Is there a particular reason Azriel is avoiding you?"

Your head snaps up at the sound of Cassian's voice, cool and calm.

He hasn't shifted, though his wings are tucked back in now. His sword is still relaxed at his side, his worn hand tucked around the hilt of it freely.

The usual chattiness that Cassian has been able to coax out of you these last few days shrivels up. Azriel is avoiding you? You hadn't wanted to see him but this—something curls up inside you, sour and foul. You swallow hard.

"I hadn't realised." You murmur, unable to keep the bitterness from seeping into your words.

Cassian blinks and seems to realise his mistake. He waves a hand dismissively, as if it can scratch away his last words. "I misspoke. I believe he is... keeping his distance."

He furrows his brow, face pinched, picking his words carefully. "For your sake." He adds.

You... don't know how you feel about that. On one hand, you're relieved. It's not by pure chance that you haven't seen him yet, it's purposeful—he's keeping out of your way, giving you peace.

On the other hand, something twined in your chest pangs sorrowfully, mourning the distance between you.

While Cassian's presence as an ally (or perhaps, you'll even admit, a friend) is comforting, you'll admit it does not fill the same shape in you as Azriel does. You miss him, quite terribly so.

"What makes you think he's avoiding me?" You ask.

Cassian gives an little shrug, his head tilting to the side just a bit. He smiles in a way that tells you he knows more than he lets on. Or maybe, he simply knows Azriel far better than you do.

"He usually trains in the morning." He explains nonchalantly. "He's taken to training at night since your arrival."

You frown at the new information. You don't want Azriel to be changing things for you, to bend and warp his routines in his home, just for you. You don't want him to avoid you either, even if you're beginning to think you might never be brave enough to face him.

He left you. He was your first friend and the betrayal of that is entirely too new— but you don't know where to draw the line.

You don't know for how long you're allowed to be upset — or how long you can let this go on before you're punishing yourself just as much as you are him.

Flexing your grip on the sword, you stare across at Cassian and when you open your mouth, the words tumble out with warning.

"He..." Your breath hitches.

Something awful hooks into your chest, remembering the way he had folded himself into shadows, away from you. The look on his face.

"He left me. When I needed him more than ever." You admit.

Your voice doesn't waver but Cassian can still see the slight tremble in your shoulders, rolling in. Your eyes have dropped to study the floor of the sparring ring, seemingly lost in the memory.

Cassian's face softens, his heart aching for you. You don't even notice how your own wings have begun to curl in, a soft, comforting blanket around yourself.

It's clear you're struggling to juggle the myriad of emotions that haunt you and he gets it, Mother, does he get it. It had been hard the first time, during those first tentative months of friendship with Rhys, before Azriel was even in the picture. Cassian had one emotion that served him any purpose and that was spite.

Spite kept him alive. Spite told him who to knock down and who to put down.

Friendships and spite are not the greatest combination. When Rhys had done something Cassian had vehemently disagreed with, it had felt like a deception, stinging as badly as the backhand from Lord Devlon, sneering the word bastard.

It took time to undo the messy tangle of emotions, to learn that not all betrayal fell into the same box. That forgiveness for some people was not weakness at all.

So, Cassian asks. "Did he come back?"

You glance up at him, eyes flickering with emotion at the question. After a moment, you swallow and say. "Yes. He did."

Cassian nods. He stretches his wings out a bit and reaches up to push a stray piece of hair behind his ear.

"Alright. How long do you intend to punish him for that mistake?"

You freeze at that question and Cassian can tell he's hit the right spot. You're unsure how long you should—because all you know is that you're hurt. And when you're hurt, you don't know any other way to deal with it.

There's only one pathway ingrained for when someone hurts you. Cassian realises suddenly, Mother help him, that he must try to be good at the talking side of things. He needs to show you there's other ways you can go.

"Because," He continues, not waiting for your answer. "I can assure you that Azriel will punish himself for far longer and far harsher than you ever will. I've known my brother a long time. If there anyone who understands the gravity of his actions and will torture himself over them, it's Azriel."

A hesitant expression shutters across your face, your brows furrowing slightly. Cassian doesn't need Rhys' daemati gift to understand the conflict that's battling within you.

"You think I should forgive him."

You don't pose it as a question. A little bit more of that iciness has bled back into your voice, on guard again.

Cassian can tell that, like him, you don't take well to being told what to do. That's fine; Cassian has no intention of doing that whatsoever.

"I think that is your decision entirely." Cassian says, letting the words breathe so they truly sink in. He watches as your eyes narrow momentarily and then your shoulders relax, sinking down an inch.

"But," He says gingerly. "If you avoid each other, you might never move past this. Might never move forward. It might be worth considering what you really want at the end of the day."

The sun has properly broken across the mountain ridges, no longer just sparse rays. You turn your face, facing towards the warmth. There's still that scrunch between your eyebrows, betraying your deep thought, but Cassian has said enough for now.

He moves his sword and taps the end of it against the stone, a soft steel ping grabbing your attention. You whip your head back to face him and Cassian grins, raising his sword.

"Enough talking. More fighting."

You smile, a little hesitant but entirely genuine, and raise your sword in response. That's one thing you're sure you know how to do right.

[NEXT PART: FRIENDS (AGAIN)]

tags below!

@strangerstilinski @janebirkln @itsswritten @mischiefmanagers @hnyclover

@waytoomanyteenagefeels @idkitsem @illyrianbitch @jeweline16 @fightmedraco

@iamjimintrash @maendering @spideytingley @aneekapaneeka @cassianswh0reeee

@viciane @astarlitsoul @mybestfriendmademe @archiveofcravings @reputaytionn-13

@bionic-donut @chessebookgirl @itseightbeats @littleblackcatinwonderland @twsssmlmaa

@fanworrior @skysayhi @vintageoldfashion @tequilya @fabulouslyflamboyant5

@rhysandorian @laughterafter @brieftriumphnightmare @hirah-yummar @some-person-somewhere

@scooobies @sfhsgrad-blog @cherry-cin @bookloverandalsocats @megscabinetofcurios

@doodlebugsblog @landofpetrichor @acourtofdreamsandshadows @florabelll @tanyaherondale

@aomi-recs @letmejustreadthanks @problemfinder @sevikas-whore @doodlebugg16-blog

@meandmysillywriting @justingnoreme @krowiathemythologynerd @hanatsuki-hime @sunny747

@coffeebeforewater @kalulakunundrum @marina468 @moonbirde @yellow-birdy @sheblogs

@shinyghosteclipse @randombibitch @itsjustwinter @emryb @books-all-the-way13

@thatsassyhufflepuff @nerdyalmondlawyerauthor @lilah-asteria @rcarbo1 @bobbyisbored

@historygeekqueen @roseodelle @assriels @rem-ie @storiumemporium

@lovingkelj @itsswritten @breadsticks2004 @marina468 @sapphena

[prythianpages]

thinking about the New Year’s Eve trend where you go under the table (also I always grew up hearing that going under the table will bring you a luck in finding a partner but now I see the trend is to go under the table and eat 12 grapes so now idk what the actual tradition is lol, anyways back to my little thought):

You made sure to have the grapes ready at this year’s NYE, talking excitedly about the man you want to manifest with Nesta…who knows what she’s doing and suggesting traits that tease at Azriel. Cassian thinks it’s hilarious and he is also excited to see if you’ll actually be able to devour all 12 grapes so fast, already placing bets with Feyre.

Meanwhile, Azriel, who is madly crushing on you, watches from his corner of the room. He thinks it’s just all fun and games…this can’t really work, right? I mean, why would it work? There’s no real magic behind this…

But then Mor casually brings up that she had done this one NYE and it brought her, her most memorable fling and she sighs wistfully…panic begins to stir in Azriel.

The clock is ticking…

Azriel’s shadows begin to dance frantically around him, mirroring his inner turmoil as the inner circle prepares to cheer you on.

His eyes widen when you scoop a couple of grapes into your hand because Mother above, you’re actually going to do this and what if it actually works and he never gets a chance to confess…

10…9…8…

Azriel suddenly appears at your side, wings knocking awkwardly against the table, his shoulder bumping yours as he makes himself fit in that small space.

“Az, what are you—“

“I have to tell you something.”

“Right now??”

7…6…

Azriel reaches for your hand, the one that is holding onto a handful of grapes, and lowers it. A confused frown settles on your features and he coaxes your gaze to his with his other hand, eyes searching yours.

“Az—“

5…4…

The hand clutching the handful of grapes twitches in his grip, still determined to complete the tradition.

3…2…

But Azriel tightens his hold and wastes no more time. He leans in, crashing his lips against yours and pulling you into a frantic but sweet kiss.

“Happy new year!”

When he pulls away, your cheeks are flushed and eyes are wide but there’s a smile on your face. “What else do you have to tell me?”

Azriel only grins and says “so much more,” before kissing you again.

[azrielgreen]

The best advice i can give any creator is do it before you're good at it, do it BEFORE you're happy, do it while you suck, do it while you're doubting yourself and get stuck the fuck in, because waiting around to be "good enough" is a motherfucking trap of the highest degree. You'll get good along the way and better after every project is complete. Remember, this is the greatest thing you've ever created, and then you'll do something else. You're only ever gonna get better, but not if you stand still.

[bright-side20]

I still want that one taste moment to happen between Elain and Azriel, because it would be so fun to read about Azriel convincing himself that he's doing it just for her. But the moment he tastes her, just that first lick . He knows it’s a lie, because he needed this like breathing. He wanted to claim something of hers, even if it’s only for this moment. So he thinks of himself as selfish, even though all he’s doing is pleasuring her with his tongue. But at the same time, he drags out her pleasure, pushing her to the edge until she’s begging him to finish what he started, because he’s petty enough to prove he can give her something no one else ever could.

[grandwretch]

modern au; nonbinary steve

dustin bullies steve into playing their favorite MMO with them. to Dustin's disgust, Steve's favorite part is collecting all the different cosmetic items and making cool fantasy outfits for his avatar. unbeknownst to the party, steve creates an alt account where he can collect the female outfits and wigs, because there's a bigger selection and they're much prettier.

as Steve interacts w people on his new account, he realizes he likes it better-- for one, people pay attention to women in a way he isn't used to. not all of it is good attention, but steve relishes in it. also, he likes that people see him as a woman. he likes that they don't even think about it. quickly he joins a guild and actually starts playing the game in earnest, just so that he has these relationships with people who view and treat him as a woman.

he meets Eddie there. Eddie is charming and flirtatious with everyone, men and women, but it's clear that Steve is his favorite. Very carefully, Steve becomes closer and closer to Eddie-- close enough that Steve is full of guilt.

He feels like he's lying to Eddie about who he is, even though he's told the truth about everything but his gender. Even worse is the realization that he doesn't ever want Eddie to think of him as man-- which is confusing, because steve isn't exactly comfortable with someone he's falling in love with thinking of him as a woman.

Things get even worse when, after Steve drunk texts Eddie after a night out with Robin, they start sexting. Its fun, casual flirtation, nothing too serious, but Strve realizes he likes the idea of sex better as his alternate self. He likes pretending to have tits, he likes imagining what it would be like to have a cunt, he likes talking about wearing lingerie and being Eddie's good girl.

He thinks he can't come clean without losing the best thing he's ever had, so Steve pushes his guilt down and pretends he's not in love.

Of course he gets caught out, eventually. Dustin and Eddie become friends in real life and Eddie isn't an idiot. Steve is mortified and distraught, but once Eddie is sure that this wasn't all a cruel prank, he's quick to assure Steve that nothing has to change-- Knowing that in real life Steve has broad shoulders and a square jaw doesn't make him any more of a "man" than his online avatar makes him a "woman". Not if that's not what Steve wants.

So Steve doesn't have to give anything up. He gets to keep his amazing, supportive boyfriend. He gets to keep his pretty clothes and avatar. He gets to keep experimenting in the bedroom, finding out what makes him happy instead of what he thinks he should be doing.

And he gets more, things Steve never even dreamed of having: He gets to start buying pretty clothes in real life, too, and they hang next to his polos like they belong. He gets to grow out his hair. He gets to slowly find out what he likes, how he wants people to think of him, how he wants to think of himself.

[thelov3lybookworm]

what do we think children in acotar call their parents? like, idk, daddy seems too modern to me, and dada as well. baba? but that sounds more middle eastern and south asian. papa? idk help me out yall

edit: was scrolling thesaurus and got a 'pa'. thoughts?

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Ludos Imperiales 11

A/N: A little bit of wound-tending to make up for the wait of this chapter :)

Content Warnings: Blood and Gore, Gladiator Fights, Unnamed Character Death; Reader Tends to Rhys' wounds post fight (I know nothing about medical procedures, this is based off a Google search don't come for me)

Previous Chapter/ Masterlist

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

Torchlights flicker in monstrous shapes across the rough stone walls, the path beyond ominously dark. The rattling of chains and distant sounds of wheezing coughs lead me forward as I pull the hood of my cloak a little lower.  

If I don’t find them down here, I think I might die anyway.

The bond is a bleeding thing in my chest, the tether echoing with agony that feels like it might just rend my soul from my flesh. I can’t breathe beyond the pain that pulses through me, that compels me to move faster in the dark. Danger is irrelevant. My mates need me. Nothing beyond that matters. 

The path curves to the left and slopes, loose rock crunching under my feet with every step. I’ve never been so aware of how loud my own footsteps are until now. 

Once the path levels out, it goes straight for what feels like miles, I keep a hand on the wall as I inch forward little by little, until another torch finally comes into view. It’s anchored above a door, the wood old and faded, the iron edges covered in rust. Beside it, on a stool that’s seen better days, sits a guard. Not a Praetorian, which is the only reason I know this reckless decision of mine will work. A Praetorian will give word back to my Father, but this male? He’s human, round enough that he’s using his stomach as a table to balance a plate piled with bread and grapes. Crumbs cling to the patchy stubble that rims his round face, eyes glassy. There’s at least four empty bottles around his sandaled feet. Not drunk enough to be asleep, but not awake enough to remember I was here.

I slide a bag of coins out of my belt and toss it at him as he registers my presence. “I was never here.”

He opens the bag, nods to himself and hands over the key to the door with a chuckle. “Or you could stay for the company, doll.”

I ignore him as I jam the key in the worn lock and force the door open. The fact that it doesn’t creak when it opens tells me I’m not the only one that’s been sneaking through these tunnels lately. 

I lock it behind me and slide the key into a pocket on the inside of my cloak. I don’t need anyone sneaking up behind me. 

The room I find myself in is leagues taller than the tunnels, the roof stretching high out of reach, supported by massive iron pillars. We’re far beneath the Pit floor, but the smell of rot and decay and damp earth assaults me as soon as I step in. 

There’s a door to the right, locked with a padlock, probably a way towards the Pit, but no Guards on this side. Why waste them when you know the occupants can’t fight their way out?

My heart clenches so tightly in my chest I almost can’t breathe.

The Orc crawls its way up the boulder, meaty hands grabbing for purchase on the lip of the rock, just missing Rhys’s shoulder. 

My mate’s movements are terrifyingly slow as he manages to roll onto his side, pushing Cassian’s shaking frame off his chest. 

Azriel is screaming beneath him, throwing rocks and debris, trying desperately to get himself airborne, but his wings aren’t strong enough. The membrane shutters and twitches and Azriel is a deep shade of green as he keeps flapping them harder and harder, managing to get up an inch or two before they give out. He hasn’t had enough time to heal!

The rocks make the Orc chuckle as it gets another hand on the lip of the rock and begins hauling himself over the edge. 

I can’t do anything but sit there uselessly, my heart in my throat, watching in terror as Rhys manages to sit up, face twisting in pain. Only desperation has him throwing a punch into the Orc’s good eye, but the blow lacks the muscle he needs to dislodge him, he has to throw them again and again until the monster slips an inch or so down the rock. 

Rhys manages to twist so he’s sitting on the edge, using his heels to kick at the Orc’s hands and keep him from climbing back up, but it’s not doing enough. Cassian can’t yet help him, any attempt to sit up has his whole body shaking, the twitching starting all over again with each and every moment. 

I watch as Azriel’s gaze sweeps over the arena, looking for any remaining weapons, anything he can use to his advantage. There’s nothing, everything that had been left on that floor is ash. His gaze sweeps to our booth, past Amarantha and my Father, before settling on me. Without the bond it is hard to be sure, but that look, the way his lips droop, the way his hazel eyes turn pleading, it feels an awful lot like an apology.

There aren’t enough words to describe the terror that lodges itself in my throat as his shadows dislodge from behind his back, writhing through the air like a living breathing thing. 

“You said the gorsian would keep them at bay!” The Emperor snarls at Amarantha. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him find a flaw in her and it would be an entirely more unsettling experience if Azriel’s shadows weren’t pulling the Orc from his perch!

The crowd is in an uproar, booing and hissing and throwing things into the arena in outrage. The amount of money the crowd will lose has to be astronomical. And while they may lose the money on a technicality, Azriel will still have cheated. 

It’s like a bad dream, watching the Orc’s arms pinwheel as the shadows drag him through the air towards the yawning chasm of lava below. 

The Gamemaker’s mage flails his hands frantically, trying to shift the floor around in time to keep the Game going. 

Half a dozen of those disks come shooting out the walls, all aimed in Azriel’s direction, the buzzing loud enough to be heard over the screaming of the crowd. 

The ground splinters beneath Azriel’s feet, and even as he jumps to safety, a single shadow peels away from the writhing mass around the Orc, arching towards the Mage like an airborne snake. 

“Az no!” Rhys screams. 

But the shadows and their master pay him no mind as the tendril snags the Mage around the throat and hurtles him down into his own lava!

The crowd suddenly goes deadly silent.

The ground stops shifting, the loss of magic making the pieces of rock floating around the air come crumbling down. Rhys manages to get an arm under Cassian’s shoulders and hauls him off their descending perch so they don’t get smashed as it tumbles, their fall so hard I can practically feel the impact in my teeth. 

They land at the same time Azriel’s shadows bring the Orc down into the rapidly disappearing lava, the creature’s massive bulk just barely hitting the magma before the rock closes over his head, effectively sealing him in a fiery tomb. It all happens so fast there’s not even time for the male to scream before he’s gone and the world finally stops moving. 

The tether in my chest is finally reachable, leading me through the twisting tunnels, past cages filled with grizzly, slumbering males. The stench of decay and infection gets stronger the deeper I go, fighting against the heavy press of booze and opioid smoke. Can’t have rebelling gladiators if they’re too drunk and high off their winnings to fight back. 

At least it’s late enough that my sneaking doesn’t alert too many people.  I’m sure this whole place has been in enough uproar as is.

“You fucking knew, didn’t you?” The Emperor snarls so loud I see Eris and Tamlin flinch in their seats.

I don’t let myself look at him, don’t fold in my shoulders and duck my head to try and make myself as small as possible. My attempts at playing the subservient little girl have failed me. Fainting like a weak-hearted child did nothing but piss him off. If we are to survive, we have to be smarter than this. 

I have to be smarter than this. 

So far, playing this Game by my Father’s rules has gotten us to this point. It has brought us nothing but pain and misery. 

I don’t want to play anymore. I want to win.

I told Azriel that I wouldn’t let anything come between us, and I meant it. Maybe that means it's time to do this another way. 

“Yes. I knew.”

The silence in the booth is deafening.

I bite the inside of my cheek, fighting every instinct I’ve ever had to run and hide. 

I am not weak. I am not helpless. I beat that Raven; I will beat its Master too. 

“I was curious,” I continue, drawing a deep breath to steady myself as I turn to face him. The playing field was never going to be level between us. He’s spent my entire life making sure that I would always be small and weak and too scared to move. “They seemed so eager for the opportunity I presented them. I wanted to know how far they would take it.”

“And yet you did not consult me on this?” The Emperor snarls, not buying it. 

“It needed to look real. I needed them to think I was vulnerable.”

“And what have they shown you?” The contempt in his voice is clear. 

Almost as clear as the confusion Eris is trying really hard to keep off his face. At least for now, he keeps his end of the bargain. 

“They’re trying to get close. See if they can use me. The Shadowsinger slipped up with the shadows one night. I told him I’d keep his secret in hopes of finding what else they’re hiding. It is a long game. One I need more time in, but I assure you, Father, it was never for ill intent. I am only acting on the good of the Empire. You can have the twins look into my head if you’d like confirmation.”

Maybe that’s too much of a lie, but I’ll find a way to use it to my advantage. Whatever I need to do to ensure my mates walk out of this; whatever roll becomes necessary for me to take on I will take it. 

He runs a hand over his mouth, thinking. If this had happened in the Senate Meeting during one of his episodes, I’d be dead already, but he’s in a good mood today, far clearer headed than he was then. It might save them. 

At least for today. 

The Emperor stands. It’s customary for him to give a judgment before a death, the crowd is waiting to see what he will do now that one happened before his intervention. 

“You truly expect me to believe that you’re capable of handling this sort of thing?”

I bite back the bile rising in my throat. There is only one way I get him onboard with this; only one way I ensure he doesn’t kill them right here and now. “Weakness must be purged from the Empire.” The words stick like tar in the back of my throat. “You told me that story every night as a child.”

He goes very, very still. Only he would know which story I’m referring to; I doubt he’d tell anyone else that the gods cursed him with a mate. 

“The Shadowsinger thinks he’s your mate?” 

I raise my chin, hoping he can’t see how hard it is for me to swallow, how hard it is to even get air down. He will not kill them for this. No, this is grounds for him to test me, to see if I can purge the supposed weakness he has always seen in me and rise to the occasion, or if he can finally get rid of me. 

It’s my last card. 

“They all do.”

Romulus swears beside me. I don’t look at him. Only at my Father, who suddenly looks a little green. He has to know what mates were considered before the Empire changed the story, has to know that legend says mates are to be equals. I’ve just put a giant fucking target right over my chest.

But I’ll take it. It means the arrows are pointed in my direction, instead of there’s.

“You can’t be serious,” Amarantha starts, but the Emperor raises a hand to silence her.

“This is a grave weakness, child.”

“And an advantage to your cause. Illyria doesn’t share your sentiment with mates. They think it can be used to turn me against you. With enough time, they’ll tell me everything, and I in turn, will report it back to you. This rebellion nonsense can finally be put to bed, and the Empire will have the peace it deserves.”

“And when the time comes, you will kill them, as your Emperor demands.”

Red tints my vision, even as I bow my head. “That has always been the plan, Father.”

He smooths his hands over his robes. “Then they live to see another day.”

I have to clench my hands in my skirts to try and hide the shudder of relief that rolls through my body. I’ve bought them another day. “Thank you, your Majesty.”

The Emperor turns to face the crowd, the Guard flanking him, just in case Azriel’s shadows decide they want to try and yank him out of the booth this time. Before he reaches the railing to address the crowd, he says to his Captain, “Instruct the Gamesmaker to bring out the posts. I want them flogged for their disobedience.”

My stomach pitches. No no no!

“I said they’d live. I didn’t say this behavior would go unpunished. We can’t have the other gladiators thinking they can cheat and get away with it.”

I find Rhys first, his cell cramped and dark, his body dumped onto the dust covered floor like he’s nothing, no better than an animal. I can see the rust covered chain tied to the wall, looped around a new collar. The Emperor made sure the gorsian was stronger this time around. The edge of it juts farther out, scratching back and forth across his shoulders with every wheeze of a breath he draws. The metal has to be scraping against the gashes carved into his bare back. 

There’s no more mirthroot in my system, I never went home to give Anise the chance, and without it, the bond becomes a roaring, living thing in my chest. Darkness leakes from my fingers, hissing as it slithers out my skin.

How could I let this happen?

It takes every ounce of self-control I possess, every bit of my Mother’s training to keep my powers from tearing the doors off their hinges. My hands shake as I slide the key through the lock and slip inside.

The iron door screams on rusted hinges as I open it, and Rhys groans as he tries to lift his head off the floor to see who’s coming for him. 

My heart might just bleed out my chest as I kneel beside him, gently running my hands through his hair, matted with sweat and blood. They’ll pay for this! Every last goddamn one of them.

“Shouldn’t… be here… Princess,” his voice is raw from screaming. There was no tuning out the sound of it as they tore through his flesh with a metal spiked flagrum over and over and over again. I hadn’t needed to pretend to be lighthearted, I’d grabbed a pale and vomited twice before they were done. Much to Amarantha’s glee and Eris’s evident pity. 

“I’m sorry.” This is all my fault! This is so much worse than the brand. I could blame Rhys for that one, but this? This one’s on me. I hadn’t done anything to stop it! “I’m sorry.”

Rhys rests his forehead on my knee and I can’t stop my hands from the frantic patterns I comb through his matted hair, trying in vain to soothe him. “You didn’t…” he grunts, trying to find a more comfortable position and blood falls freely from one of the deeper wounds that spans from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. “Didn’t make Az do that.”

The pack of supplies I’d brought with me feels inadequate at best, but the sight of fresh blood knocks some sense into me and I start grabbing gauze and some oils I’d found at a small market in the street. An old Elvish healer has said olive oil and honey would help keep out infection, I’d bought out every bottle she’d had.

“I should have done more.” My hands shake as I try to find the best place to hold the gauze to stop the bleeding. There isn’t a patch of undamaged skin, any pressure at all will be horrific. It takes a solid thirty seconds of reaching for one spot, then changing my mind and searching for another, before he mumbles out something that sounds like “above my hip, love”. I settle my hand as lightly as I can as directed and even then the noise he lets out sounds like a cat being stepped on. 

Tears drip down my cheeks, I have to turn my head to make sure they don’t accidentally land on his ruined flesh. “I’ll fix this. I’ll find a way to make this better.”

He draws a shaky breath beneath my hands. “How… are we alive?”

Figures he’d ask me that first.

I start at the spot he’d directed, dripping a bit of oil into the most shallow cuts to weigh my options here.

His whole body spasms like it had when he’d been electrocuted and I stop what I’m doing entirely. “Fuck!”

“Shit! Shit I’m sorry, the Elf said it would help.”

Through his teeth, Rhys hisses, “I’m sure she’s right but fuck me!” 

I just make everything worse in every department, don’t I?

“Um, you want to try the honey instead?” Thank the Mother I never had the notion to become a Healer, I would have been absolutely awful at it. 

“I’m not hungry.”

“For your back, Rhys.”

“Oh,” he chuckles softly, realizing the mistake, then immediately groans from the way it pulls on his back. “Either has got to be better than the salt water.”

The air leaves my lungs in a rush. Forget the long game, I’m burning this whole godsdamned Empire down tonight.

“Easy, Darling,” he coos, and our bond ripples with a warmth I don’t deserve. “Just talk me through it.”

I give myself a little shake to clear the red tinting my vision. They will all pay for this.

“Tell me what happened last night? Why couldn’t we feel you?”

“Anise drugged me,” I say and I can’t tell if he flinches because I’ve started again with the oil or if that’s in response to what I’ve said. “Some kind of faebane and mirthroot mixture. She said my Mother had it made in case… in case I ever lost control.”

In case I ever turned into my Father.

“Mother’s tits!” Still not sure if that’s in regard to the oil or the story. 

“I was trying to get to you, to tell you that…” the coughing of one of the males in the cell across me reminds me of the lack of privacy. “That I’d found something that might be useful, but you were already gone and she jabbed me in the back of the neck with a needle. She must have done it again this morning, I don’t remember anything until arriving at the Arena.”

His breathing is labored as I work, body tense beneath me. I should have brought mirthroot, as unpleasant as my own experience had been, it could have eased his pain.

“Guard came quick last night,” he says through his teeth. 

The last twenty-four hours had really gotten away from me, I swear on the Mother I’ll never let myself be that powerless again. 

“I’m sorry.” 

The oil makes the blood look like it’s flowing freely, once I’m satisfied that it's covered enough, I reach for the bandages. 

“Don’t,” he says gently. “They’ll know you were here.”

My chest constricts. How can I tell him what I've done? He was already so angry about the marriage contract, this might just break him, but if I tell him the truth, would it give me an opportunity to help him. I can explain it away to the Emperor in the morning, claim I was trying to strengthen their trust in me by pretending to betray him. 

“I won’t leave you down here like this.”

“It will only make it worse,” he insists. 

“Maybe not,” my voice betrays me, nothing more than a cracked whisper in the darkness of these awful dungeons.

The bond ripples with enough concern I can feel a faint hum on both Azriel and Cassian’s end. At least I know now that they are all conscious, and that the gorsian hasn’t removed our ability to feel each other like the faebane had.

Rhys’s own voice shakes and the pain I can hear in it makes me look away from him when he asks, “What did you do?”

When I don’t immediately answer, he tries to sit up, tries to turn and look at me and I have to pin his palms to the floor to keep him still. “Don’t do that!”

“Tell me you didn’t marry any of those pricks? Tell me you didn’t barter another piece of yourself away-”

He’s going to tear his back open beyond repair if he keeps trying to move like this. “I told him we’re mates.”

I might as well have sucked the air from the room! Rhys goes deathly still beneath me and I think I liked it better when he was yelling. 

I try not to worry my lip between my teeth. “My Father murdered his own mate because he believes mates are a weakness that must be purged. I needed him to think I was trying to do the same.”

He doesn’t say anything, the minutes stretching out between us as I start using a bit of the honey to stick the strips of bandages over his back. The quieter the cell becomes the more the tether betweens us howls in pain. Maybe I need to resign myself to the fact that I might have been right all along; maybe this was always meant to end with him hating me. 

“I can’t beat him at his game by just sitting there uselessly. It wasn’t working. I needed to try another way.” If he can’t get past this fine, I will not let myself regret my decisions. I can’t afford to. They have to work. I have to make them work.

It might break my heart beyond repair if he can’t find it in him to understand where I’m coming from, but I’ll take that pain over the agony of him being dead. If I hadn’t acted, he could be another body rotting on the Pit floor right now. I do not need his permission, nor will I sit here and hold my breath for his forgiveness. We have to be willing to adapt. I have been so stubbornly set in my ways for years; I won’t let the stubbornness that ruined my Father ruin me.

I’m finished with the bandages before he speaks again. “When we went to war with the Empire, I gave up a lot of myself to be what my people needed. I wore whatever mask was necessary. I have worn cruelty and hatred in equal measure. There were days, weeks, where I looked into the mirror and didn’t recognize who was staring back at me. I can’t… I can’t let you do the same thing to yourself.”

I let my fingers drift back through his matted hair. Nothing would make me happier than to take him home, to get him cleaned up and into a bed that was safe; into a place where I knew he could rest. One day I will give him that. One day there will be no more dungeons or bloodshed or torture. One day we won’t have to swap horror stories to comfort each other. I can hold him and he can hold me and there will be no more pain between us. There will not need to be a question about whether we can live with our decisions.

“I can live with my decisions,” I say. “Let me help you shoulder this burden. You do not have to be alone to carry it.”

“People die when I let them in,” he whispers.

I can’t hold him like I ought, not without hurting him, so I allow myself a moment to lay down on the floor next to him, the filth covering the old stones seeping through my skirts as I lean my forehead against his.

“The things I love have a tendency to be taken from me.”

The bond hums between us, warm and alight even in this darkness. We are one and the same, Rhys and I. “Me too,” I confess. “But I never did anything to stop it then. I won’t ever do that again.”

His breath stutters out of him, a twinge of fear slithering down the tether to me. “You’re sure I can’t convince you to take that boat you talked about?”

That boat is long gone. 

And so is that girl who was so scared she’d need it. 

I can do this. We can do this. “We can beat him. Together.”

He nods gently, like it’s too much effort to do anything more, it probably is. “Together.”

I feel a twinge of pain flash across my left hand, just a flash and then it’s gone. Almost like something bit me. In this cell, bugs are a given. I raise my hand to take a look, and am surprised to find a band of black ink around my ring finger, a trio of stars circling the thin band of what looks like a tattoo.

Even wounded, the smirk Rhy’s flashes me is infectious. “Illyrian bargains come with ink.”

“You’re impossible,” I say, rolling my eyes. He’s honestly worse than Az.

He manages to tilt his head just enough to kiss the tip of my nose, his lips cracked and dusted with dried blood still. “If you’re going to make life threatening statements to the Emperor, so am I.”

I won’t admit to him that I like it, not now anyway. “I should go check on the others.”

“What if there were other parts of me that needed tending to?” He pouts.

I stand and dust off my skirts, rolling my eyes again. “You’ll survive.”

I push the door to the cell open. “I’ll bring some mirthroot next time. So you can sleep.”

He waits until the door is locked again. “Be careful, Princess.”

I won’t lie and tell him I will. The time for being careful is over.

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[potatoplace]

The Prophecy

Azriel x Archeron!Reader

the 1 (part 1)

mini-series masterlist | ACOTAR x reader masterlist

Story Summary: In the aftermath of your fall, your sisters stay by your side, comforting you as best they can. The Shadowsinger is lurking, hoping for a chance to apologize. You want someone who wants your company.

Warnings: suicide mention, light angst

Words: ~4.7k

Author's Note: ayyyyy I finally managed to write something!!! I hope you guys like this, it's the third alternate ending for 'the 1.' I actually really like how I wrote this but I also haven't edited it besides properly marking where italics go lol. I hope you guys enjoyyyy 🫶🫶🫶

18+ only pls

💙🤍💙🤍💙

Azriel left you in the hallway, leaving you behind in his search for his love.

Elain.

Sweet, beautiful Elain who had chosen him, who had decided to love him for who he is.

Still, he couldn't help but rub at his heart, the sting of the broken bond catching his attention as he rejoined the party. He wrapped his arms around Elain who had taken up a spot at the balcony, her eyes gazing out at the stars.

How the Cauldron had decided that you would be his mate, he would never know. Your company was fine, that was true, but he had never once felt an ounce of attraction towards you. As a human, your face had been... difficult for him to look at compared to the beauty of the fae, or even your sisters. And as a fae, you were simply plain.

His eyes glossed over you every time you were in the room.

And with everything Azriel had gone to, well, he deserved the beautiful female currently in his arms, her eyes so filled with love as she looked at him.

The ring he had picked out for tonight was heavy in his pocket, and he was just about to pull it out when Feyre let out a scream- one so filled with pain and grief that the entirety of the House of Wind silenced, confused and concerned looks following their High Lady as she sprinted out of the main room.

Rhys followed first, only a few steps behind Feyre, and the rest of the Inner Circle exchanged glances before following suit.

Another guttural scream left Feyre as they approached the balcony that she was peering over, her wings springing into existence in the next moment, and then Feyre was flinging herself over the edge.

Less than a minute later she returned, your limp body in her arms.

His mate.

His mate!

Suddenly all Azriel could feel was the shredded bond in his chest, his hand flying out of Elain's to clutch at his heart as he stared at you, unmoving.

Elain and Nesta rushed to your side, careful not to touch you lest they do more damage that would stop your already weakly-beating heart.

Their mouths were moving, but all Azriel could hear was the quiet sound of the muscle he had shattered mere minutes before pushing blood through your veins, working to keep you alive.

Cassian appeared with Madja a short while later, though Azriel hadn't noticed he'd left, his senses entirely focused on you.

Their words went unnoticed until Rhys was in front of him, pushing him by the shoulders away from the balcony.

"What are you-?"

"Madja needs quiet, Az. Come with me. We need to talk," Rhys said quietly, guiding Azriel to the study he kept in the House.

Azriel shot one last, longing glance to your body, but the three sisters and Madja surrounding you blocked his view.

"So..." Rhys began as they sat in the leather chairs around the fireplace, with Cassian shutting the door and leaning against the wall next to the blazing fire.

Azriel hadn't noticed he was walking with them.

"What happened?"

Azriel looked at Rhys and blinked once, twice.

"What?"

Rhys sighed. "What happened? I saw Y/N pull you aside only a few minutes before Feyre discovered her. So... What happened?"

Azriel blinked at him again before answering. "She... Y/N, she's... My mate."

Surprised flickered on both Rhys and Cassian's faces before confusion took over.

"Isn't... isn't that a good thing? I know you and Elain... But... Why did Y/N... Why is she hurt?" Cassian asked.

Azriel didn't answer as shame washed over him, finally realizing the consequences of his hasty choice.

"... Az?" Rhys asked quietly.

"I... I rejected her..." Azriel whispered as tears streamed down his face, the dam having finally broken.

Silence.

He couldn't bear to look at his brothers, see the disgust in their eyes at his actions.

"I'll go tell Madja," Cassian said quietly, leaving the room in the next moment.

"Azriel... Why?" Rhys asked once the door had shut behind their brother, his voice soft.

Azriel managed to meet his eyes, the usual sparkle of stars in them missing. "I... I promised Elain that I would. And really, I... Y/N is... She's very nice but I never thought..." He trailed off, hoping that Rhys wouldn't make him explain further.

"You never thought what?”

"I never thought that my mate would be the wrong sister..."

"So you just... Rejected her? How long did you consider it?" Rhys paused to let him answer, but Azriel couldn't tell him that he'd given it no thought at all, and rather thought it was a cruel joke played by the Mother. "Did you even consider it, Azriel?" Another pause, and at Azriel's continued silence Rhys scoffed. "You didn't consider it, didn't think of the consequences of breaking the bond. You of all people should know just how a rejection can ruin someone."

Rhys was right. He hadn't thought any of it through, and look where that got him. A rejected bond and a nearly dead mate.

"I want to fix it," Azriel said, his voice cracking. "I want... I need to fix this."

Rhys narrowed his eyes at him, looking him over and taking in how wrecked he looked. Tears were still streaming down his face, a hand absently clutching at his heart.

"I suppose... You can attempt to apologize to Y/N, if she'll let you. But you need to decide what you're going to do about your relationship with Elain..."

Elain. How could Azriel give up his sweet, perfect, beautiful Elain? How could he... He would have to. Somehow, he would get over Elain.

"I'll go talk to her now," Azriel said as he immediately stood and made his way to the door, only stopping when Rhys put a hand in front of him, holding the door shut.

"Azriel. I need you to think about this choice. I won't have you harming Elain as well because you haven't thought yet another decision through. Go take a flight, clear your head. Think, brother." Rhys relinquished his hold on the door, allowing Azriel to pass through.

His feet led him to the balcony you had fallen from, quiet now that you had been taken away for further healing. Azriel gazed over the side, his heart clenching painfully when he considered you had done the same, deciding it was your only way forward.

He launched himself into the air, the chilled wind clearing away every thought but you.

🤍💙🤍💙🤍

Pain.

That was all you knew now.

When you woke the first time, your bones had screamed out, every muscle in your body flaring in pain and agony.

And then came the overwhelming sensation of the shredded bond in your chest, a scream passing through your lips without meaning to as it tormented your entire being.

"Y/N? Y/N we're giving you more pain medicine, you'll be out in a moment, just don't move sissy," a voice said into your mind, the familiar brush of it the smallest balm to the burning pain of your body.

Twin.

And then darkness washed back over your mind, pulling you away from the pain.

The next time you woke, you heard angry voices.

Pain still ruled you, making it impossible to open your eyes and see who was arguing.

Was it about you? Surely not, you aren't important enough to argue over.

One voice caught your ears.

The voice you had loved over the past year, clinging to every word that dropped from the lips it belonged to.

Now, it aggravated the bond, the jagged edges scraping your soul and bringing you back into your body.

Pain. It flowed through you like the blood in your veins, controlling every fiber of your being.

"She can hear you!" A voice hissed- twin.

Feyre's here. I'm safe.

More words, hushed this time, before a cool hand brushed over your brow.

"Go back to sleep, sissy. We'll still be here when you come back," Feyre whispered into your mind softly, and moments later you fell back into the dark, comforted by the presence of your other half.

The third time you woke, you could hear three heartbeats thudding close by, and one more that was muffled, distant.

Your body ached, and just clenching your fingers lightly sent shooting pain up your arms, a soft whimper leaving your lips.

The ragged bond in your chest still chafed, pain flowing out from it with every inhale and exhale you took.

You opened your eyes, only to close them tightly at the bright faelights illuminating the room. You slowly opened them once more, squinting until your eyes adjusted.

There was a warm weight on your right arm, and when you turned your head carefully you saw Feyre's face, eyes shut as she slept.

It looked like the first time she had slept in weeks.

"Feyfey?" You tried to ask, instead coughing as your dry throat protested speaking.

Feyre was awake in an instant, blinking sleep from her eyes. Her blue orbs met yours, tears filling them in the next moment.

"Oh, Y/N," she cried, her tattooed hands clutching your face gently. "I love you."

A weak smile graced your lips. "I love you too," you said, your voice rough.

"Oh, here," Feyre said, raising your head and tilting a glass of water so that you could drink as much as you wanted, her eyes never leaving yours. "Better?" She asked once you were done, gently placing your head back on the pillow it was resting on.

"Yes..." You whispered.

The distant heartbeat picked up in pace, and the bond in your chest flared again, causing you to clutch at your heart with a hand, even as your muscles protested the action.

You carefully surveyed the room, finding that Nesta and Elain were both sleeping much like Feyre had been, heads resting on the bed as the slumped over in their chairs.

All of your sisters, here at your bedside.

After you had... Had...

"How are you feeling?" Feyre asked gently, drawing you out of your thoughts. She always had known when you were spiraling into your anxieties.

"Not... great..." You said quietly.

That felt like the understatement of the century.

Your body was sore all over, your bones themselves aching just from existing. And the bond...

It was awful.

"I can give you more pain medicine in a bit, but Madja... She said that you might have lasting pains, from... From falling," Feyre said shakily, tears spilling from her eyes.

You just nodded, barely registering the information as Nesta awoke, her back straightening as she blinked her eyes into focus. Tears filled them when she saw you.

"Y/N, you're... You're awake," Nesta sniffled, a noise you rarely heard from your aloof sister. "Don't ever do that again. You are too important," Nesta said heatedly before placing a soft kiss on your forehead. "Alright?"

"Alright," you agreed, pleased to see the smallest of smiles grace your eldest sister's lips.

Elain stirred last, her chocolate brown eyes welling with tears when they landed on you, her disheveled hair a testament to how worried she was.

You remembered Azriel's words. I think it’s best for you to stay away from Elain and I. I wouldn’t want you getting territorial and ripping my love’s throat out or anything.

How could he have ever thought you would harm Elain? Your sisters were the most important anything in the world to you.

"Bunny, you're awake," she said tearily, her hands grasping for yours over the blanket. "I'm so, so sorry, I had no idea that he was your-"

"It's fine, 'Lainey. I made sure no one knew," you said, cutting her off. "It's not your fault."

Tears fell from her eyes anyways, and you knew she was still blaming herself.

"I want... I want someone to want me for me. Not a bond 'Lainey. He... He would never have looked my way, even if you had rejected his advances," you whispered, thinking to his cruel words before he had rejected you.

Feyre sighed, and you knew she was contemplating whether or not to kill the shadowsinger for hurting you.

"Cuddle with me? Like the old days?" You asked quietly, hoping beyond hope that you wouldn't have to deal with the sting of rejection from your own sisters.

"Of course, sissy," Feyre replied, already peeling back the covers to slide underneath, her arms wrapping tightly around you.

"For as long as you want, munchkin," Nesta said, following Feyre's lead and snuggling up to you.

That left Elain, who hesitated.

"Come in, 'Lainey. It wouldn't be the same without you," you reassured, your worries eased when she laid behind Feyre, one of her arms looping over to meet your hands.

The four of you fell asleep, snuggled together just as you had for so many years. This time to hold you together, your sisters acting as the glue that keeps you from shattering further as your ears listened to that fourth heartbeat, singing to you as it does to the shadows.

🤍🤍💙🤍🤍

"You need to get up," a voice said, slightly muffled by something.

"But I haven't-"

"They're all sleeping, you need to go and clean yourself up. You waiting here isn't going to help things," a third voice said.

"But what if she wants to see-"

"Then she will ask for you. Until then, you need to give some space. Go wash up. Eat something. I'll see if Feyre thinks she'll want to see you, and if she does then you can come sit in front of the door again," the third voice ordered, followed by a heavy sigh.

"Alright."

Footsteps, then quiet.

You relaxed once more, sinking into the softness of the bed and warmth of your sisters around you. Pain lanced through your body, and you wished that you had asked Feyre for more of the pain medicine before you fell back asleep.

Feyre stirred next to you, no doubt awoken by soft mental prodding from her mate to ask her if you wanted to see your... your former mate.

"You alright?" She asked quietly, attempting to not wake your eldest sisters.

You nodded. "I hurt everywhere, though," you whispered.

She pulled a vial of pain potion from... wherever she pulled things from, and tipped it into your mouth.

It tasted horrible, but the relief was near-instant, the harsh aches easing into mild discomfort for the moment.

"Thank you Feyfey."

"Of course, sissy. Go back to sleep, hmm?" Feyre suggested, laying her head back on your shoulder and letting one of her hands lock fingers with yours.

You did as she said, drifting back into the peaceful space that your sisters' presences brought, the feeling of their souls next to yours as comforting as ever.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Your sisters were speaking softly when you awoke next, still cozied in between the three of them.

"If he keeps waiting outside, I'll kill him," Nesta hissed quietly, and Feyre shook her head in response.

"You can't do that, Nesta. You can punch him, sure, but I think Rhys would be upset if you killed him."

"Then I'll rip his heart out- oh wait, he doesn't have one.”

"Nesta, stop. Y/N's awake," Elain said. "How are you doing?" She asked, a nervous lilt to her voice.

"I'm alright. What are you two arguing about?" You asked, eyes flitting from Nesta to Feyre.

"Azriel is outside. He refuses to leave," Nesta seethed.

"Oh... What does he want?"

Feyre sighed before explaining. "He wants to beg for your forgiveness, or something along those lines."

You let that sink in. He wanted to apologize... But why?

"I... I suppose I can see him now."

"Are you sure? We can make him go away. You never have to see him again, if you don't want to," Feyre offered, but you shook your head.

You needed to do this.

"If you're sure, bunny..." Elain said, waiting until you nodded in confirmation before climbing out from underneath the covers. "We'll be waiting right outside."

Feyre and Nesta followed her after helping you to sit up against the mound of pillows behind you.

"Let me know if you need us to remove him," Feyre said, tapping a finger against her temple.

"I will, Feyfey. You should all get some food, okay? You need to eat," you insisted, the three of them caving when you narrowed your eyes at them.

"Alright. But if he does anything..." Nesta seethed.

"You'll be the first to know, Nes. I promise."

Your sisters shuffled out of the room, each of them glaring at Azriel as they passed him. Nesta even hissed at him, something that made you laugh internally.

You couldn't laugh out loud, though, as your former mate was standing before you now, looking worse for wear.

"Y/N, I wanted to apologize to you," he paused, waiting a moment to see if you would react. "I feel awful about rejecting you without so much as a thought, without considering the blessing that the Mother has granted us. I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm here begging for it anyways. I want you, Y/N. I want to love you, and love the children we will have together. I want you to give us a chance, please.”

The entire time he was speaking, you merely stared at him, wondering how you had fallen for this male. Had it solely been the bond forcing your heart? Or were you now so disillusioned that you couldn't imagine loving him?

"Y/N?" Azriel asked, once you had been silent for a minute.

"You are begging for forgiveness? And that's the best you have to offer?"

Azriel blinked at you, confusion clouding his eyes. "What?"

"That's your apology? You call that an apology?" You scoffed, rage flooding your veins, put there by the bloodied bond in your chest. "You told me that five hundred years of waiting was a waste. You told me that I could not compare to Elain, you thought that me being your mate was a joke, you told me that I was not. Your. Mate. And yet here you are now, 'begging' for forgiveness by informing me that you rejected me without a thought, and that we will have children. You are right on one count. You do not deserve my forgiveness. And you will never have it. Now leave," you demanded, satisfied at the disbelieving look on his face.

He thought you would give in so easily? That you would crumble under a few kind words?

He was wrong.

You are an Archeron. You might not have the typical fire exuded by your twin and eldest sister, but you possessed the stubbornness that ran through your bloodline.

After ten seconds, he still hadn't moved, just staring at you as his wings drooped to the floor.

Perhaps he was beginning to feel the pain that he had condemned you to when he had rejected you 'without so much as a thought' as he had put it.

"Get out," you told him again. "Or I'll let Nesta tear you to pieces."

Still, he didn't move.

You sent your mind out to Feyre's as best you could, tapping on the strong walls of her mind. Can you send Rhys? Or someone? He's not leaving, you whispered to her.

Rhys is on his way, sissy, Feyre replied. Nesta too, as soon as Rhys stood she followed, Feyre sighed into your mind, causing you to laugh softly to her.

That's alright, I threatened him with Nesta.

The two of them burst into the room a moment later, Nesta grabbing your former mate by the hair and dragging him into the hall, faster than you would have thought possible.

Rhys stared at them in confusion for a moment before turning to you.

"Are you alright, Y/N?"

You nodded. "I'm fine, I said everything I wanted to. I just needed him to leave."

Rhys bobbed his head in understanding. "I'll make sure he won't bother you, rest assured. He will be banned from Velaris until you're ready, if you're ever ready," Rhys said softly, a look of understanding in his eyes. "I'm sure Feyre and Elain are headed back with food for you, but I'll make sure something is sent to you no matter what, hmm? Feel better, Y/N." Before he left, he kissed the crown of your head gently, and it was the first time you considered him to be your brother.

Only a couple of minutes after he left, Feyre and Elain returned to your room, both of them carrying a tray of food.

The three of you ate for a few minutes before Nesta reappeared, looking rather satisfied with herself.

"Have you eaten?" Nesta asked you, but before you could respond asked "Has she eaten?" to Feyre and Elain.

You wrinkled your nose at her in amusement. "I'm eating, Nes. You should eat something too, you didn't have much time."

She stared at you, waiting to eat until you had taken a bite yourself, proving that you were eating.

The four of you ate together until all of the food was gone, and you were certain that they had made you eat the majority of it when you laid back, feeling absolutely stuffed.

"Will you... Will you sleep with me again tonight? Not right now, but... later?" You asked hesitantly.

"Of course we will, munchkin. I think we might protest if you said you didn't want us with you tonight," Nesta said softly.

You smiled at her, pleased by the caring side of your eldest sister that you were finally experiencing.

"For now, I think I'd like a bath," you said, the feeling of having slept for multiple days covering your skin.

"I think I can help with that," Feyre said, and began lifting you from the bed.

"Feyre, I can walk!" You giggled as she brought you into the bathroom.

"I know, and you can test it once you've soaked in hot water. Madja said you may have some difficulty using your muscles for a while. So just be patient with me, I don't want you to get hurt. Okay?" Her face held such tenderness that you couldn't help but agree.

"Okay."

🤍🩵🩶🩷🤍

Six months.

Six months, and you felt like your life had changed completely.

The first two months had been absolute hell, with you learning to tame the shattered bond in your chest, slowly filing its edges down into something that still hurt, but wasn't all-consuming. You had also had to relearn to walk, write, swim, sew, knit, crochet- basically everything that you loved to do.

It was hell, but you would do it all again.

Because you had re-perfected your needlework in the next two, embroidering beautiful patterns onto dresses for the upcoming parties of the spring season, earning enough money to rent a small house in the Palace of Thread and Jewels.

Your own house.

All your own, to decorate as you liked. Of course you had help from your sisters and their mates, the seven of you working to transform the slightly run down house into your pastel dream home.

In the next two months, you had started a business with your new friend- Alina. She had been the junior dressmaker at the shop you had been working for, and the two of you became fast friends.

You were able to work in silence together, drawing peace from your work and each other's presences. And when you talked, you had so much in common. Both of you were... Not confident, for various reasons. And both of you fiercely loved your families, willing to sacrifice anything for them. You both enjoyed reading, but preferred soft romances compared to the smutty fare that Nesta enjoyed.

It turned out that Alina, too, wanted to be loved for who she was, rather than a bond. You found kinship in the story of her mate, the way he had only looked at her differently once the bond had snapped.

The two of you had bonded so much that when the owner of the shop you worked at had fired Alina for no good reason, you had quit in protest. Together, you opened a small shop near your home.

In only a month, the clients that preferred your and Alina's work had started frequenting your shop, leaving the both of you busy nearly every day.

It was absolutely lovely, everything that you had ever dreamed of.

Except... You still wanted to be wanted.

You shoved that desire down deep at every chance, throwing yourself into your work until your body protested, fingers cramping while you worked by a candle in the dead of night.

Some days, though, you could hardly move. The consequences of your choice to fling yourself off of that balcony followed you like a dark cloud, waiting to pour pain onto you at any given moment.

Still, you managed to push yourself forward, taking solace in the life you had created for yourself. You could hardly imagine what life would have been like had you accepted Azriel, but you didn't think it would be a happy one.

Nothing was worse than being the choice that was not really a choice at all, rather the forces of fate.

And nothing was better than being the first choice, you'd soon learn.

Because on the first day of the final month of spring, a Tuesday at 9:53 in the morning, something wonderful happened.

Theo, a repeat customer of yours had entered the shop, holding a dress box from your shop in his hands.

When Theo had first entered your shop a little under a month ago, he had taken your breath away, so, so similarly to how Azriel used to.

His bright green eyes made you blush whenever they fell on you, and you wanted nothing more than to run your hands through his curly dark hair. And his voice! You melted at the sound, how deep and gentle it was at all times.

You would be lying if you said you didn't put extra care into each order he placed, making sure each piece was perfect for him.

He had ordered a couple of dresses from you before, both of them for his sister.

"Good morning, Theo, did your sister need something adjusted?" You asked as he set the box on the counter in front of you.

"Good morning to you, Y/N. This... This is not for my sister," Theo began, and you would almost say that he was nervous, if not for the confident smile on his lips. "This dress is for you, Y/N."

You blinked in surprise, glancing down at the box. "For me?"

"Yes, for you. I was hoping that you would join me for dinner on Friday at Sevenda's," Theo said, his eyes holding yours captive.

"Like, uhm... A date?" You squeaked, blood rushing to your cheeks.

Theo nodded, his smile widening. "Yes, a date. Are you interested?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice, and a matching smile to his graced your lips.

"I'll pick you up at seven, if that works with you, sweetheart."

"O-okay," you said nervously. "I'll see you then, Theo."

At the sound of you saying his name, Theo blushed lightly, your eyes just catching it before he turned to leave the shop.

"Oh, and you don't have to wear the dress if you don't want to, but... I think you'll look even more beautiful in it then you do now," Theo said sincerely, leaving the shop after flashing a bright smile at you once more.

You covered your face with your hands, your face flushed and grinning.

Theo had asked you out! You couldn't wait to tell Alina and your sisters, Feyre especially. She would be over-the-moon happy for you, knowing how much of a crush you have on him.

Luckily for you, your weekly sister tea time was later today, and you would have something exciting to tell them.

general taglist: @lilah-asteria @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao

'the 1' series taglist: @blackgirlmagicforever @historygeekqueen @angelbunny222 @mellowmusings @romantasyreader28 @craybae10 @littlepippilongstocking @littlegirl-bd @casey1-2007 @moonlwghts

[ayziwe]

bazen insanlardan nefret etmiyorum da yoruluyorum... ya nasıl bu kadar duyarsız olabiliyorlar anlamıyorum birinin gözünün içine bakıp, içini görmeden nasıl konuşabiliyorlar, nasıl bu kadar kolay unutuyorlar, yok sayıyorlar, incitiyorlar, birinin ağlamasını izleyip hiç bir şey olmamış gibi diğer konuya geçebiliyorlar, hiç bir şey hissetmeden hatta. ve sonra sen bu kadar hisli olduğun için fazla oluyorsun senin kalbin çok ses çıkarıyor, bundan rahatsız oluyorlar. ben insanlara hep şöyle baktım. o da bir zamanlar çocuktu, belki çok yalnızdı, belki çok kırıldı, o yüzden böyle oldu ama artık bilmiyorum! belki de bazı insanlar hiç büyümemeliymiş, belki de bazı insanlar iyi olmayı hiç istememiş. sokakta kediye oyun kisvesi adı altında oradan oraya sürükleyen tekme atan birini gördüğümde boşver demişlerdi, boşveremedim. o hayvanın acısını ben hissettim ama o hissetmedi. bu nasıl adil olabilir nasıl aynı iki kalbi taşıyoruz! insanlar bana hep olduğun halinle çok güçlüsün konu sevgi olunca bu gücün senin en kırılgan yanın oluyor, seni kırılgan gösteriyor dedi. oysa ben sadece insanlığımı kaybetmedim. bu dünyada hala yumuşak kalmak en büyük cesaret, anlaşılmasa da.  çünkü sert olmak kolay, uzak durmak, unutmamak, vurmadan önce vurmak, bunlar kolay. ama hala sevmek, hala inanmak, hala ağlamak, bunlar gerçekten güç istiyor. ve ben güçlü olmaktan yoruldum... hep anlayan olmaktan, kalkan olmaktan, destek veren tarafta olmaktan, anlatmaktan, sessiz kalmaktan, ilk defa içimde bir şey yavaşça kırılıyor... ve bu kez tamir etmek istemiyorum.

teşekkürler dünya.

______෴ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡෴ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ﮩ