#Elaine Crane

[weirdlookindog]

Vincent Price and Elaine Edwards in The Bat (1959) - Danish program

[dalyankiz1981]

Andrew Scott and Elaine Cassidy in ‘Little White Lie’

Thank you to my lovely friend @lifeis35mil for recommending this cute and funny film from 2008. I’m loving the early stuff as well as the more recent. He’s always talking about wanting to star in a romcom but I’d say this pretty much fits that description 🤷‍♀️ I loved it.

Also thanks to @shegottosayit for the wonderful GIFS 😍

[novastar134]

Do you ever just... D1e? While making a piece?? And just... Never finish it for months???

Yeah me too

I worked so hard on that kitchen.

Anywho!! Sarah and Adam bc they're cute and I love these two idiots.

Sarah belongs to @novastar134 (Me)

Adam belongs to @goldendaydna

Kwamis shared between us and @the-vegetarian-artist who also helped me with parts of the bg too and @phobian-deimoses who owns the dumb owl in the oven (Hootr you silly birb)

[screamscenepodcast]

Third time's the charm... your hosts tackle THE BAT (1959, Wilbur), a remake of the 1926 silent film and of the 1930 sound version.

This time 'round, we have Vincent Price, Agnes Moorehead and Gavin Gordon starring, but will it make a difference for this old fashioned flick?

THE BAT (1926, West) was previously covered in Episode 16. THE BAT WHISPERS (1930, West) was previously covered in Episode 23.

Context setting 00:00; Synopsis 28:24; Discussion 41:18; Ranking 57:10

[florencemtrash]

To sleep at your back

Author's Note: Just a lil oneshot. Lots of fluff — both IC and Azriel x Reader. Sleepy Azriel is the best Azriel! No warnings.

Y/n’s back was beginning to ache, like an uncomfortably hot stone had knotted itself into the base of her spine. She twisted this way and that in her seat, neck craning over the textbook like a slim tree in the wind. Her family members bustled around her. Cassian kneeled on the ground, palms outstretched as striking practice for Nyx. The little boy beat at him with tiny fists, every thump, thump, thump punctuated by a fake grimace from his favorite uncle. 

“You’re becoming too strong for me, little one,” Cassian cried out, cowering to the floor before sprawling out in a dying heap. Nyx leapt onto his chest, declaring his victory for the whole house to hear. 

Nesta smirked from over her book, with Gwyn and Emerie similarly arranged around the coffee table. 

Elain dragged Lucien out by one flour coated arm to watch for a few moments, a sugar-dusted smile on her rosy cheeks as she wiped sweat from her brow. “Dinner’s running late,” she called out before slipping back into the warm kitchen with her mate in tow. 

Everyone hummed their acknowledgement. 

Soon the boy grew tired from their games, but he was too proud to admit it. “What’s taking them so long?” He asked instead, taking the welcome break to lean his damp head of curls under Cassian’s chin. 

“I’m sure they’ll be done anytime now.” Debriefs with Azriel always took long — the male was too thorough for his own good. Nyx made a point to glance at Y/n. His aunt always had a habit of disappearing into her work whenever Azriel was away. It kept her mind off the distance where it might have driven Cassian and Nesta, or Rhysand and Feyre mad. 

Mated couples didn’t like to be separated, especially not for this long. But at least Y/n could hear Azriel in her mind now. The bond had been stretched thin — his voice faint and difficult to hear — during his long months on the Continent. 

Her head jerked up suddenly and no sooner had she stood up from her seat before Azriel was by her side in a burst of darkness. Tendrils of shadow snaked out from his feet, drinking up the sunlight like it was wine until the temperature stuttered with a cool whisper. He sank back into the seat, dragging her with him so she was sitting in between his sprawled out legs. He wrapped his arms firmly around her middle, pressing her back against his chest and nuzzling into the crook of her neck. Whispers were exchanged between presses of lips against skin. She smoothed the rough calluses of his hands, murmuring “Welcome home.”

And he answered in her mind, Gods I love you. 

He rested his chin against her back, watching over her shoulder as she eventually went back to her reading, comforted by his presence so close to her. It was thrilling how much she loved him. Azriel could scarcely believe it most days. 

I can’t believe I get to love you. He thought sleepily. He hadn’t intended to let the thought slip through the bond, but she warmed immediately, cheeks touched with heat. 

You’re a hopeless romantic. She teased. 

He sighed happily, eyelids fluttering shut despite his best efforts. He hadn’t slept well while he was away. He never did. His head grew heavy on her shoulder, but she appreciated the weight of him at her back. 

When dinner was finally ready, and their family members carefully streamed through the kitchen, they marveled at the sight of Azriel fast asleep against Y/n, one hand of hers carded through his black hair.

[fieldofdaisiies]

Icarus Has Fallen

paring: Azriel x Reader | type: fluff | words: 5,4k | warnings: none playlist: can't help falling in love | la vie en rose | moving along | my heart will go on | I think I’m in love | you and I enchanted; this story is dedicated to two of the most amazing people on this app @brekkershadowsinger @moonlightazriel thank you for all your help and support and love (now you know why I asked for the songs)💛

Icarus has fallen.

It was the sun that made Icarus fall, and it is a female as bright and beautiful as daylight that made Azriel fall. In love. 

Deeply. Head over heels. No ground in sight.

He has never expected this sort of feeling. Not after Mor. Not after Elain. 

But the first moment he lays eyes on you, the second he spots you, splashing around in the large marble mountain in front of the castle Azriel is gone. His gaze remains fixed on you all the way to the castle, not once averting his eyes. His is so focused on the sort of beauty he has never ever seen before, he doesn’t even realise that Cassian is talking to him. He doesn’t register what Rhysand answers, or what his High Lady adds. Everything around him fades into insignificance, becoming absolutely unimportant. There is only one thing on his mind - only one thing he can focus on and that is you and figuring out a way to get to know you. To learn your name. To find out who exactly you are. 

He is only ripped out of his gazing by a deep male voice greeting the High Lord of Night and his entourage, including Azriel. He has to shake his head, his shadows calming a little around his shoulders.

"Welcome to the Day Court,“ Helion greets, his toga flowing around his strong thighs, his arms spread wide to welcome the visitors from Night to his court. Bowing their heads, they return the greeting and fall in line with the High Lord of Day who lets a casual eye run over each of them. "Where is Morrison?" he asks, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity, but also a hint of amusement. In the past, this question would have enraged Azriel. Not anymore. Not for a long time. He knows that Mor and him…there would never be anything between them. He knows this now. 

Rhys answers him that she has business to deal with, and couldn't manage to come here. Helion accepts this answer with a smile and says, "Please, follow me. Allow me to show you my throne room where the discussions will be held."

Azriel’s gaze, one last time, moves over his shoulder, craning his neck quite a bit to catch one last look at you. You are engage in happy chatter with who he guesses are your friends, hair and the thin white gown that is damp from the water, leaving absolutely nothing to imagination. His breath catches and—

"If you keep staring any longer, you might break your neck, Azzy.“ Cassian fetches his best friend back to reality, nudging him playfully in the ribs and colour blooms high on the shadowsinger’s cheeks when he meets the general’s gaze. "Wh-at?" he stammers, trying to pretend he wasn’t doing anything, but obviously Cassian isn’t stupid and sees right through his bluffing.

"I wasn’t staring," Azriel growls, his forehead lying in furrows.

"I am only teasing you, Az,! Cassian adds when he watches Azriel’s expression, the cold and indifference creeping back into his features. The general chuckles and returns his gaze to his own mate, his large hand holding Nesta’s tightly. "But you totally were."

Azriel tries to ignore his friend, shaking his head slightly, shoulders squared, posture straight as he follows the others into the big throne room of the Day Court castle. He wasn't staring. He was…observing. 

Everyone gathers around a large class table, the meeting starting a moment after, but Azriel is unfocused. Helion says something about Koschei, Azriel thinks. His High Lord adds something, and so does his High Lady. But his brain doesn't allow him to participate. Or is it is heart?

Yes, he found females attractive in the past. Many females. But it has always been different. He has never been so enthralled, so enchanted by someone he hasn’t even properly met. He has only seen you for a few minutes and—

"Tell Lady Y/N to come here. She should bring the Book of Death Gods and Dark Forces.“ Helion waves of his sentry and then focuses back on the conversation with Rhys. 

Azriel swallows thickly, the name, it has struck a cord in his heart. It sounds oddly familiar and he has no idea why. Like his heart has heard it before, remembers it, almost like it evokes memories deep within him… Within his soul.

The discussions continue, Azriel contributes with the occasional dip of his chin. He can’t focus, his mind is too…he doesn’t actually know. But somehow, seeing you, has pulled a lever in his head. In his heart. In his soul and focusing on anything else then the sudden pull he feels in his chest becomes a sheer impossibility. He has never felt this tug before…it is a wholly new feeling that renders him dumb. 

But he has to focus. This is important. Not only for the Night Court but for all of Pythian. 

Azriel brings up a hand and folds it over his chin, trying to listen in, his shadows perched on his shoulders, gathering information. 

"So what we know about Koschei is very little, but I truly hope that the ancient book in my possession can give us more answers.! Helion releases a loud sigh, his expression concentrated, posture rather stiff. He shakes his head, swirling pits of worry in his eyes.

He leans back in his chair and turns his head, acknowledging movement at the threshold. He lifts his gaze, "Ah!" he says, and waves you in with two of his fingers. "Come in, my lady."

Azriel, simultaneously to the High Lord of Day, focuses his gaze on the female figure appearing in the door - hair still damp, but the dress a new one. A dry one. 

His breath catches, heart skipping one or the other beat and if he hadn’t been sitting down he knows his knees would have given in right in this moment. 

As you enter the throne room, your curious eyes scan the room, taking the people gathered there. You curtsey to not only greet your High Lord but also his guests. His guests from the Night Court. Your gaze eventually settles on Helion, the High Lord of Day Court, engaged in conversation with Rhysand, High Lord of the Night, the opposite solar court to your own. 

Next to him is his High Lady, Feyre Archeron, the first High Lady Pythian has ever seen. She smiles at you, polite and kind, and you dip your chin at her. And next to her…you find a male, his beauty not comparable to any you have ever seen before. He is the most beautiful male that exists in all of Pythian, you know this, and you are captured by him. His expression is cold and indifferent, but his eyes of hazel, sparkle when they meet yours. His composed demeanour seems to falter as his eyes lock with yours.

For a fleeting moment, time seems to stand still. Azriel is struck by your presence—your grace, your elegance, your beauty, your brightness. Could you be the light to his darkness, the sun in his endless gloomy days. 

He's at a loss for words, captivated by you. It's as if the world around him dims, leaving only you illuminated in his vision. You are sunshine, and life.

You want to look away, focus on the task at hands - delivering the book, but you can’t. Your heart starts to sing inside of you, begging you to draw nearer to the shadowy male, to ask for his name, to get to know him, to—

"Lady Y/N, thank you so much for coming,“ Helion reaches out his hand. "I see you brought the book I requested.“

Your footsteps echo on the marble floor in the throne room as you approach your High Lord, finally averting your gaze form the beautiful male, holding the Book of Death Gods and Dark Forces in your shaky hands. He holds out his hand for the book, his attention momentarily drawn away from the discussion at hand. "Meet my guests, Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court and his High Lady, Feyre Archeron. Joining them, Azriel, and Cassian, the two best Illyrian warriors that there are.“

You smile politely, trying to greet each person again with the bow of your head. "It's my pleasure," you says, and then claim the seat on Helion's left, helping him open the large book and find the right page and then you start to read together, helping Helion and Rhysand filter out the important information (you are after all one of the head scholars of the Day Court, your wisdom and knowledge big). 

Azriel’s gaze lingers on you. Gods, you are so stunning, he barely knows how to keep his breathing steady, how to avoid the constant subtle glances into your direction - those stolen glances every now and then that make his heart beat faster. 

He wants to meet your gaze, accidentally, not make it too obvious he is staring. But you never deign him another glance, not once you look at him again, fully focused on the task at hand - going through the large book and some extra piles of parchment. Some other scholars, both young and old, have joined in as well, searching for any kind of important information. 

Over time sentries deliver more books and papers, all splayed out over the table until nothing of the glass was visible anymore. Your delicate fingers traces over the written words and every now and then you bring a hand up to brush back a loose strand of hair that has fallen over your shoulder.

Azriel is fully enthralled by you - never ever has he seen such a beauty before, you are breathtaking and stunning. He doesn’t know why he is feeling so strongly, why the sight of you made his heart skip one or the other beat and why there is a sudden pull, a tug on his chest and then it hits him like slap.

Might this…could this be the bond? Could you be his mate. It would explain why one look at you was enough to pull out the rug from under his feet.

You work for hours, discussion everything that is noted about the old Death Gods. Azriel is unfocused and he knows it. He wants to fight against it but he can't — like some force is restricting him from it. Like it only wants to make him focus on you. 

He doesn't even fully notice when the discussion comes to an end, not even registering what the outcome exactly is. 

"Don’t you trust my strength that I can carry all those books and papers back alone, High Lord?" you ask with a hint of teasing in your voice. Your eyes sparkle while they hold Helion's gaze.

Helion chuckles lowly in answer, smirking. "I absolutely believe in your strength, but I am also a gentleman and wish that someone helps you with the books, so—"

"I can help." At least six pairs of surprised and wide-open eyes dart to Azriel. He slowly gets up, right now not minding the attention he normally hate so much. "I will help you with the , if I may."

Lips that have formerly parted due to your astonishment, form a smile - bright and happy. "You absolutely may, I appreciate it a lot."

You are strong enough to carry the books alone, you most definitely are. But, you have this absolutely breathtaking male offering his help, you would be a fool to say no. Maybe you can get to know him a little better, maybe you will talk on your way to the Grand Library - whatever it will be, you will spend time with him and that makes you feel happy, and excited.

So, Azriel gets up and walks to you, picking up some books (the heavier ones, leaving the lighter ones for you). Everyone is watching you, surprised about the scene unfolding itself in front of them, but before it gets to uncomfortable, Cassian manages to pull everyone into a conversation, wanting to help his best friend out. 

Azriel is thankful, yet does not let it show, his sole focus on you. He nods his head at you when he has a tight grip on all the large books, signalling you he is ready to leave, and you should lead the way. 

Once you are out of the door, out of earshot, Azriel exhales loudly and finally opens his mouth. "I‘m Azriel," the shadowsinger introduces himself, voice quivering the slightest bit, his palms so clammy all of a sudden, he would love to wipe them down his trousers weren't he holding the many books. 

You turn your head and grin at him. A soft chuckle escapes you, "I know, Helion introduced you earlier." 

Colour starts to bloom high on his defined cheeks, embarrassment passing over his features, so you quickly add, "But I am very pleased to meet you personally. It’s my pleasure, Azriel. I am Y/N."

"Such a beautiful name," he whispers. Perfect for such a beautiful female, he wants to add, but doesn't do. Not yet. That would not be appropriate. He barely knows you after all. 

"So you are head scholar?" Azriel asks when you set out down a long pathway, at the end a large towering building and Azriel guesses it is the Grand Library. 

"Exactly. But I am not the only one. The High Lord has a Head Scholar in every library of his court." You explain a little more while you walk over to the big library, adding some random details that you love to share and he loves to hear. Azriel is interested in the information you share with him and that warms your heart - no one has ever truly cared about those things. 

From time to time, you find him marvelling at our surroundings, the large sunflower fields or the Pegasi that trot by, neighing and bowing their heads. 

You set out for the last part of the path, pebbles crunching beneath your feet, creating a soft melody in the same rhythm as the beating of your hearts. You tell him that High Lord Helion himself helped build this Library, and it took them over a century to finish it. 

Azriel gasps when he takes in the whole expanse of  the gigantic Library, crafted from marble and glass, reflecting the sunlight and towering over him - not in an intimidating way, more in an impressive way.

"Welcome to the Grand Library, you tell Azriel upon entering, smiling him and his astonished face.

"Stunning," he breathes, his gaze brushing you. He is only partly talking about the Library.

"Where to?" Azriel asks and you look around, unsure. You wish he could help you put all the books away, but you don’t want to keep him here for too long. 

"Just on my desk, if you please." You smile and tilt you chin into the direction of said desk. Azriel bows his head and follows without a word, shadows swirling around him, almost like they are dancing to a melody.

"The shadows. What are—?"

"I’m shadowsinger." He turns his head to you, a lopsided smile on his lips.

"Ah," you answer. "And what exactly does a shadowsinger do?"

He somehow looks happy over this question, happy to explain it to you. You listen in awe, his shadows skittering down his arms and reaching out to you, almost like they want to brush over your skin. Or pull you closer. To their owner. To—

"I think I should leave now." Azriel clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck. He doesn’t want to leave. Not yet. But he has too. First of all, they need to return to the Night Court and secondly, his heart is beating so rapidly and he has been looking at you for so long he doesn’t know how long he can survive without his knees giving him. 

You have changed something inside of him and he needs space and time to makes sense of it. He needs some solitude to order his thoughts.

"That’s alright," you say, a pang of sadness sparking in your chest. You want to spend more time with him, get to know him better, but your knees feel wobbly only when his gaze brushes you. You don't know what it is, but your are not dumb and suspect a larger force behind the emotions boiling inside of you. Could this be the Mother's doing. Could you and Azriel be connected through more than just attraction?

The shadowsinger starts to back away, slowly, hesitatingly walking toward the large entrance door, wings tucked in behind his broad back. 

"Thank you for offering your help with the books," you call after him. You meet his gaze. 

Azriel bows his head. "Any time you need me, I am here for you."

Cheeks turning rosy, and your heart skipping a beat, you place the parchments on the desk in front of you. You draw in a deep inhale, warmth spreading from your chest throughout your whole body.

Azriel is almost out the door, his footsteps hollowing through the large, empty library.

"Azriel."

You bite down on your lower lip. He halts on the threshold, one scarred hand braced on the door frame. It seems like his posture straightens and the shadows on his shoulders halt in their swirling, waiting for what you are about to ask. 

"Yes." He turns to you, a smile on his lips, hope etched upon his features.

"Will I see you again?" Tension leaves your body the moment you voice your question and see his expression.

Azriel seems surprised about this question, even his shadows have stilled, no longer swirling around him. "Do you want to see me again?"

You grin and brace your hands on your hips. "I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to." 

He smiles, yet doesn’t answer immediately.

"I would love to see you again," he eventually says, voice tinged with a rarely-there happiness. "Maybe we can work together again any time soon? There is still a lot to find out." He tilts his chin at said book, the one he carried back here.

Your heart flutters and so does Azriel‘s, heartbeat increasing, chest swelling with an emotion he has never felt before.

"I think that is a great idea."

He meets your gaze, eyes locking, the promise of seeing each other strong and steadfast between your hearts. "See you soon, Y/N." 

You smile politely. "See you soon, Azriel."

His name on your lips - nothing has ever sounded more beautiful in Azriel’s ears and he can’t avoid the grin, reaching from one ear to the other. An expression hardly anyone has ever seen on his face. With a fluttering heart, he lets door fall close behind him, exhaling loudly. 

He can’t quite say what has happened and why it hit him so hard when he barely knows you, but he is falling - heavily, deeply. Madly.

Will I see you again? 

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

"I would like to show you something, my favourite place. Then we can continue with the book. But right now, we deserve a break."

You are hopeful, really wanting to spend time with him alone. You and Azriel, joined by other scholars, have been dealing with several books surrounding the topic of Death Gods for hours, your necks and backs aching already. 

"Are we allowed a break?" Azriel asks, raising his brow. He wants to say yes so desperately, but times is pressing and you need answers soon.

"Yes, because working too hard for too long without a moment of rest is not beneficial for making progress." 

You have a point, Azriel decides. He closes his book and with a contented sigh leans back in his chair. "What do you want to show me?"

"A special place here in the Day Court. It’s not far from here, we can return shortly." 

You step from one foot to the other, impatiently, because you really want to show him your favourite place. You know he will like it.

Azriel’s heart is beating a little faster when he gets up, surrounding the desk he was sitzing behind, spending hours being bent over paperwork. You want to show him something?

He is only a political guest so you showing him part of your court feels like a huge honour.

Heading towards the large marble doors, Azriel follows, his breath catching when his eyes follow the sway of your hips, how gracefully you glide over the ground. He has to shake his head, the tug on his chest so strong he worries his heart might rip right through his rib cage.

And he isn’t the only one feeling it. You need a moment, closing your eyes, his closeness doing something to your body. To your heart. And you very soul.

You close the door, waiting for Azriel to step away, to move, but he stays, his eyes running over you. They drop to your hand and then meet your own. He seems to hold his breath for a small moment, then inhales deeply, eyes still locked with yours, and parts his lips. "Can I hold your hand?"

You know that primarily he poses his question because of his scars. Maybe he has been rejected in the past, or he is genuinely worried you may feel disgusted? 

But there is no reason for it, you like his hands - they are big and unique. And you don’t care about the scars, not in the way he thinks. If someone caused him the scars, if someone hurt him, you care because you want to make them pay - severely. With their death. 

"You never have to ask for something like that," you say, voice tinged with empathy.

You extend your hand, grasping his gently, fingers easily sliding between his, intertwining them. "Your hands are so big," you tell him with a grin and it even draws a small smile to the shadowsinger‘s face. A beautiful smile, eyes glowing like you have never seen them before. "And our hands fit perfectly."

Azriel assesses your intertwined hands and with a sigh and the deep rise and fall of his chest, he eventually says, "They do. Like they were made for each other."

Your cheeks turn rosy, and you search his gaze. "Maybe they were," you whisper, voice tinged with a sheepish tone. Slowly you set out, one step after the other and Azriel follows, both silent. Both of you are too stunned by sensation sparking between your palms to speak - it feels like heat and tingles erupt, almost like lightning zips between your bodies.

You walk up a small pathway behind the Grand Library, through a canopy of large, towering trees, light dancing on every single leaf, and filtering through the branches. Your gaze moves over your surroundings, sometimes touching Azriel. He seems amazed, and to be liking what is presented to him which makes you happy.

You give his hand a gentle squeeze, just a small gesture but it makes his heart flutter, and a smile appear on his lips. Birds song in the distance, accompanying the rustling of leaves and the crunch of pebbles beneath your shoes. You inhale deeply when you come to a halt.

You are atop a small hill, overlooking most of the city below, and Helion‘s palace in the midst of it. Large fields of sunflowers stretch in front of you, Pegasi trotting on the paths in between.

"I think it is my favourite place. Here in the Day Court I mean." You turn your head to the side, already finding Azriel looking at you. His eyes shimmer with an emotion you can’t quite place - is it love? Admiration? Anticipation?

You smile at him, and he mirrors your expression. "I can see why." His deep voice is barely above a whisper, caressing your skin like feather. "It is beautiful." He pauses, but his lips part again, like he wants to continue. Azriel’s eyes run over your face, scanning every small detail, memorising it.

"Just like you," he finally whispers, and now you can see love sparkling vividly in his eyes. He lifts his hand, fingers halting mere inches from your face, "May I?"

You dip your chin and in a featherlight caress, the shadowsinger brushes a few stray strands of hair out of your face and tucks them behind your pointed ear. "I’ve never seen beauty like yours before, Y/N,“ Azriel says, his tone sincere. "And before you try to object, it is the truth." The corners of his lip quirk upwards and he smiles down at you. "You are a bright ray of sunshine, and with your smile alone you could light up the darkest night. Your beauty rivals that of the sun herself."

That has strung a cord in your heart and you feel how tears brim your eyes, the back of your mouth starting to ache. You don’t want to cry. Not right now, but the compliment was just too beautiful - no one has ever said something like that to you. 

"How fortunate that I thought the same about you when I first saw you - that you are the most beautiful male I‘ve ever seen," you whisper, voice a little hoarse. You lift your hand, resting it atop his, your soft palm touching his scars. 

"One day you will tell me the story of how you got those?"

"I will," Azriel whispers, a tang of gloominess filling his voice.

"But for now, I want you to know that they do nothing to diminish your beauty, or your worth. You are beautiful and perfect the way you are. Scars or no scars, you are the most beautiful male I have ever laid eyes upon."

Bouncing up on your toes, you bring your lips closer to his, almost kissing him. "You asked me if you could hold my hand, now I am asking you if I can kiss you." Your soft breath tingles his lips and a low, amused chuckle leaves Azriel. "Please," he breathes, eyes fluttering shut. You connect your lips with his.

It is a delicate kiss, lips moving in a graceful dance of tenderness and longing. 

The sun's warmth brushes your skin, intensifying the sensation, as if the Mother herself looks down on you, happy about this union. Time seems to slow around you, everything but Azriel and the feel of his lips against yours, fading into insignificance.

Azriel’s thumb gentle caresses your cheek, his tongue hesitantly gliding over your lip, asking for entrance which you grant him. The first stroke of his tongue against yours, elicits a gasp from you and you have to smile, pulling back from the kiss.

"That was—"

"I think we are mates!" The words just pour out of his mouth and he can’t stop them before they are already there, hanging in the air between you. He has lost control, his soul won the upper hand, and he couldn't stop his mouth from revealing the bond. 

Everything stops, even your heart and breathing. Your mouth is agape with surprise, and slight shock about this sudden and unexpected revelation. Yes, you have felt this tug on your chest as well, but…

It still surprises you to learn about him feeling the same. So, it is truly the bond. Air gets caught in your throat and your heart hammers against your rib cage.

"I…I—"

"I am sorry," Azriel admits and shakes his head, "I shouldn’t have said anything."

He wants to step away, but you don’t let him.

"Don‘t be." You smile up at him. "I was just…the bond is a huge thing, and I…you just surprised me, maybe even overwhelmed me with your revelation. It was so out of the blue." You step into him, arms slinging around his torso. He has gone stiff and you want some of the former light to return to his eyes. "I probably need a moment to order my thoughts and realise what it all means, but I am happy it is you. I’ve been feeling a pull towards you as well, Azriel, and it all makes sense now." You press a soft kiss to his pectoral.

His arms curl tighter around you, holding you against him, marvelling at the feeling of your bodies melding. Not only your hands are made for one another, but also your bodies. You are equals, one half of the same coin. 

"You don't mind it is me?" he asks of a moment and you can feel the sad thrumming of his heart through his chest. You tip your head back, trying to meet his gaze but his eyes are focused on an undefined point in the distance. "No," you say, voice soft, "I could never be disappointed about that." 

He finally lowers his gaze, eyes brushing yours. You smile and continue, "It might take us some time to figure everything out, to really get to know one another. To learn everything about the other person."

He bows his head. His shadows caress your upper arms, your face. 

"I don't want to rush anything. I want to give us time to get to know the other. I don't want to give the bond the upper hand and make us forget about the simple things of falling in love."

"I don't want that either. I want to learn everything about you, Y/N, before we accept the bond." His lips brush your forehead. "But I already call myself the luckiest male in all of Prythian."

A grin appears on his lips, so bright, that now he is the one whose beauty rivals the sun. 

The shadowsinger's chest heaves with a deep inhale, his chest brushing against yours, hearts beating in the same rhythm.

"I guess, Day and Night have at last found each other." You quip, nuzzling your face into his solid chest, his warmth so soothing to your soul, his scent bewitching your senses.

A bemused chuckle leaves Azriel as he tips your head back and gazes into your eyes, but soon the happiness fades from his face, a hint of worry and coldness reaching you through the bond.

"There is a chance for our love? Our bond?" Azriel‘s forehead lies in furrows, his chest aching fiercely all of a sudden. He hasn't considered this before, but you are from two different places of Prythian.

His throat works on a swallow before he continues. "We are from two different courts. Day and Night. We are—"

"Mates! Our souls belong together. So do our hearts. And when two souls belong together, there is always a chance for love."

You nip at his lower lip. "We will figure out a way to make it work, but we will stay together. We will be a couple. Our mating bond is stronger than the border of our courts!"

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

A loud chuckle parts your lips, your head tipped backwards, Azriel’s broad hand splayed out on your lower belly, fingers relentlessly tickling and teasing you.

"I love you, have I told you that already today?"

"Not yet, I think" you quip, giggling into his biceps.

Azriel leans in quickly, lips on your neck. "I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you." Azriel’s hot breath fans your skin and leaves goosebumps in its wake. "More than my own life, more than anything in this world." He nips at your skin. "My mate."

"I love the sound of it," you whispers, fingers stroking through his silken strands. "I love that I can call myself yours. And that I call you mine." You grin, even though he can’t see it, face still buried in the crook of your neck.

"I love being called yours, my sunshine."

Azriel‘s hand slides over the curve of your ass, squeezing gently and then he lets himself fall back onto the mattress, pulling you with him, your head resting atop his chest. He has arrived and his heart sings happily within his chest. 

The sun burned Icarus. Made him fall.

But Azriel is not afraid to get burned again. He is safe with you. Always. You won't burn him. And he won’t fall. Not in the literal sense of the word.

In love, though? He has fallen massively, deeply. He loves you with every part of his body, truly and fully. 

You are his mate. His equal. His home.

~~~~~~ tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii@nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22  @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian  @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @callmeblaire

[writingforrhys]

as you were

cassian x reader warnings: none! just some arguing and very sassy bat boys LOL. and some nesta and elain slander oh and quite a bit of swearing contents: welcome to a long awaited part 2 of smaller than this! i finally wrote the comfort to the hurt. please enjoy!

masterlist

Cassian couldn't find you anywhere.

He was sweaty, and disgusting, and disheveled after a long morning of training with his brothers. Azriel had been on point this particular session, seemingly being able to read Cassian's mind and know his every next move. He'd been put to the floor more times than he could count and all he wanted was to find you, bathe, and throw himself under the covers for some comfort and some really good sex.

The Illyrian had flown down to the Rainbow in search of your favourite bakery for some custard treat that he knew you couldn't get enough of and a bunch of your favourite flowers. And now, he couldn't fucking find you.

There was nothing better to Cassian than that shy look you'd get on your face when he'd turn up with gifts in hand, like you couldn't believe you were the one he was giving them to. The way you'd wring your hands together and rock on your feet, reaching towards him with that big, bright smile and a welcome home kiss, just to rush off to put your flowers in some water or show Rhys exactly what he'd bought you.

Gods, he needed to find you.

He felt like he'd searched the house 3 times over. He'd gone to the library, the kitchens, even Rhys's study and still no sight of you. It had barely hit noon and he knew your routine ridiculously well. You should've been pottering somewhere.

He found himself standing outside of your shared bedroom, concerned that perhaps you'd fallen ill, or caught on to one of Az's headaches, and had retired to your bed for the day. He craned his ears to search for any signs of life from the room; put off by the lack of light funnelling through the gaps of the door.

Cassian was just about ready to haul ass and search for you again elsewhere, when he heard it. It... you... a sniffle?

The door slowly creaked open, warm light from the hall washing over the unmoving mass under the sheets. Cassian moved as gently as he could, (albeit he was not very gentle at all), and found only the top of your head peeking through.

"Are you okay, honey? Not feeling well?"

His kind words and tender tone made you want to cry even more and you had to resist the urge to not look over the sheets and take a look at his beautiful face.

"I'm fine, Cass." And there it was. Mistake, mistake, mistake.

Any other person would've walked away. Any other person would have wished you farewell and hoped you got better. Any other person wouldn't concern themselves over the inflection of your voice. But not Cassian.

No, Cassian heard it all. Saw it all. He heard the shaking of your speech, the uncertainty. Could hear the wetness. And, he could bet that if he pulled back the bed covers, he'd find you tear-stained and choked up and utterly humiliated. And he was always right when it came to you.

And now, as panic blossomed in his chest, he took a seat next to your unmoving form and placed a hand just atop your body. He was careful not to remove the covers; he didn't need you closing off even more.

"You wanna tell me what happened, my love?"

A head shake.

"Did someone do this to you? Has someone made you upset?"

Silence.

"Who."

You removed the covers now, no further down than the top of your chest he noticed, and the sight of you broke his heart. You were all sniffles and puffy faced and hair so unkempt it could make a Naga run back to the woods. You'd obviously been here a while - alone and vulnerable. His heart broke again.

"It's okay, Cassie, really. They didn't mean any harm. I wasn't even supposed to hear it."

"They?" He was furious. Utterly and blindingly furious. Whoever had made you cry was very soon certain to wish they were never born.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you sighed, realising this was a battle not easily won. Cassian was not the type to let things go easily, especially when it came to you, and you weren't foolish enough to hope that he would just leave it alone.

"Nesta and Elain," Your voice was just a whisper, eyes still closed, "They... they were talking about me. Didn't have many nice points."

The Illyrian was the picture of silent rage. His heart a furnace; one doing a terrific job at boiling the blood under his skin.

"What did they say?"

You were hesitant now, as if speaking the words aloud would somehow make them more true. Your eyes peeked open, looking everywhere but Cass, until a large hand took purchase upon your cheek, tilting your face to meet his encouraging stare.

Your voice wobbled as you told him what they'd said - the descriptions that had hurt you the most. More tears streamed down your face at this and a calloused thumb reached to wipe every one away.

Once you had finished, Cassian stood silently, leaning down to plant a kiss to your hairline, and made a beeline for the door.

"Where are you going?" You wiped at your tired eyes.

"I'm off to kill some sisters."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The door to the living room had slammed open so fast that the walls of the house had shaken. Every head in the room had whipped to a seething Cassian in the doorway.

Rhysand was the first to stand and reach out his hand tentatively, as if taming a beast, "What's wrong, brother?"

Cassian's gaze didn't even land upon the High Lord. His line of sight shot right to the sofa behind him, carrying Feyre and Lady Death herself.

"You."

Nesta wasn't someone who showed much emotion in her face. Her range of expressions only varied between extremely discontent and mildly satisfied. But now, with the General standing in the doorway and a thunderous stare thrust upon her, she didn't know how to hide the amount of emotion bubbling up to her face.

Seeing her sister's agitation, the High Lady also rose to her feet and stepped forward. One of her hands rested upon Cassian's arm, gently rubbing as she lead him into the room.

"You need to tell us what the problem is, or we can't fix it."

"What's the problem, Feyre?" He scoffed, "She's my fucking problem."

The Illyrian's voice was raising with every word he spat. His voice had reached the adjourned kitchens, where Azriel and Elain now tentatively filtered out. Elain monitored the situation carefully, and quickly took a seat next to Nesta, grasping one of her hands in her own.

"Cassian, perhaps you need to calm down. I'm sure Nesta will be more comfortable to talk to you then." Elain's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Oh, go bake some fucking bread, Elain!"

"Cassian," Azriel spoke, "You need to choose your next words carefully."

"Really, brother? I don't think I do," He turned to Azriel, "Would you like to know what your little girlfriend has been saying about Y/N?"

The room was silent. Elain was red.

A beat passed as Azriel and Rhysand made eye contact. Azriel's shoulder's squared and his jaw ticked. Rhys laid a hand on Feyre's elbow, who was quick to leave the room with a soft mutter of I'm going to check on Y/N. The three Illyrian's were now facing the sisters on the couch, a storm brewing in the room.

"What did you say?" The shadowsinger's voice was uncomfortably steady.

"We didn't say anything. Get your guard dogs away from us." Nesta seethed at Cassian.

"You didn't... say anything?" Rhysand spoke slowly - accusatory.

Elain was nothing like her sister. Nesta could lie for days on end and not break a sweat. Often, when they were young, Nesta would spin tales about the other children in the village and see which rumour she could make spread faster. When she was confronted, Nesta had no problem lying to their faces again, or telling them exactly what she thought of them to their face. Whatever she preferred in the moment.

Elain was not like Nesta. Elain would return from school or the market, sit by the hearth on the floor, and spin her tales there. The words she spoke never left their house, not by her own voice anyway. She knew from Nesta's approving hums and nods that the next day, whatever Elain had spun would miraculously make it across the town. And she loved it.

Elain did not like consequences, and she did not like confrontation.

"We didn't say anything." She whispered. She dared not look up.

"That's funny, really," Cassian spoke to his brothers, "Nesta and Elain have decided that Y/N isn't good enough for us. For me."

"Oh, I wasn't aware that was up for them to decide, Cass."

"Neither did I, Rhys."

Azriel's face was still stony, "Would you like to tell the truth now?"

"Oh please, what we said wasn't that bad. The drama in your court is abysmal, Rhysand." The eldest Archeron bristled, "You'd think the royalty of the Night Court would have better things to do than gossip."

"Let me make one thing very clear. If I ever hear you speak ill of another member of my court again, it will be the last thing you ever do in this court." Rhys was not speaking as himself now. This was the High Lord. This was your High Lord. Undoubtedly and unapologetically loyal to you.

"Y/N is the best of us," Azriel spoke lowly, "I wouldn't expect you to understand, but you have misspoken and you've made a grave mistake. You will apologise profusely, and from this point on you will do everything you can to make this right."

Azriel left then, his long legs climbing the stairs and his footsteps following the familiar path straight to your room. Elain's face had fallen completely now, tears threatening to spill over her cheeks.

"We have known Y/N for the best part of 500 years. We have known the both of you for all of 5 minutes," Rhys' eyes bore into the sisters, "She has loved us and we have loved her for longer than you've been alive. You should be surprised that I haven't already dropped you at the border."

Rhys turned then to the door, his back facing the room.

"Do not let me hear of this again."

And with that, he followed Azriel up the stairs.

The Seer glanced between her sister and the General and took her opportunity to breathe a weak apology and immediately flee the room.

Typical, Nesta thought.

"Well, whatever you have to say, I suggest you get it out."

She was right. Cassian had been far too quiet. If he left his emotions unchecked any longer, he could very well do something he would regret. Well, he wouldn't regret it that much. But he'd like to avoid the grovelling he'd have to do to Feyre.

"My life is none of your concern," He began, "Who I take to bed is none of your concern and who I spend my time with is none of your concern."

Nesta rolled her eyes.

"What?" Cassian spat, "Would you rather I profess my undying love for you instead of her? You, who has shown me nothing but hatred and contempt since the moment we met. And Y/N who has spent 5 centuries giving me kindness and a home."

She wasn't looking at him anymore, completely silent as the Illyrian grew quiet again himself.

"She means everything to me. I have never and will never tolerate anyone who attempts to jeopardise what we have. Especially not you."

"What do you even see in her?" Cassian couldn't tell whether it was a jab or a genuine question. He didn't like either.

"All I see is her," A small smile, "All I think about is her. When I leave in the morning, I think about what she might choose to wear that day. And on the way home, I think about where I'll find her. Whether she'll be reading in the library, or teaching Az how to knit for the 50th time, or baking or bathing or singing."

He didn't pause to see Nesta's face shifting to shock.

"And when I do get back, the first face I want to see is Y/N's. To see her smile or hear her laugh. Most of the time I can't believe that I'm the bastard she chose to love. That I'm the one who gets to hold her every night."

Cassian made his move to leave, but just before he reached the doorway, he turned back to look Nesta in the eye.

"Y/N is the most beautiful, loving person I've ever met. I wonder sometimes how flowers don't grow on the grass she treads. You're lucky I haven't left you dead on the floor for the way you've spoken about her."

And as you listened on the stairs, your cheeks red and smile bright, you knew.

You knew that you didn't have to travel the universe to find someone who loves you. You didn't need to have a different body or a different mind to find someone who sees you.

Because Cassian was here, in this house, loving you and seeing you. For everything you are.

He loved you just as you were.

[nikethestatue]

I love the juxtaposition of how Elain and Lucien are shown during that scene in ACOWAR when they were having tea, and the other two couples, who are also mates.

We have Feyre commenting that watching Elain and Lucien trying to 'bond' and have a conversation over a tea service was the most uncomfortable 30 minutes of her life.

Meanwhile, we have her own daemati interactions with Rhys--where she is telling him not to come into the house. The interaction is so...comfortable. They joke. They play off each other. There is something familiar and homey in a way they speak. In my opinion, it's very couple-y. She is telling her 'husband' not to come in, and the fact that he is the most powerful High Lord in history doesn't matter. She is the wife and he listens and they are just two conspirators trying (and failing) to set someone up. This is being in love.

Lastly, we have Nesta. Hers and Cassian's bond isn't confirmed and they still pretend to be aloof (at least she is) and yet, what do we observe? The cool, standoffish, collected Nesta is literally craning her head trying to catch a glimpse of her boy, while he is going wild with the wings, showing off. This is...falling in love. They are not Feysand yet--established, confirmed, 'wedded and bedded'--but that little observation by Feyre, watching her sister unable to tear her eyes off Cassian is so important and so telling of how Nesta was feeling.

And then there is Elucien. Unable to string two words together. Even face to face. I think it's interesting that SJM chose to show the other two couples not interacting directly--neither Cassian nor Rhys are even in the house. While Lucien is sitting across from Elain. And...nothing.

It's untrue that Elain and Lucien 'never had the opportunity' or that 'she doesn't give him a chance'. They've had opportunities. Just nothing came of them.

Compare that, with what Azriel thinks in the bonus chapter. 'Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.' Again, we are reminded that unspoken attraction, small gestures of love and affection aren't always loud or even face-to-face.

But all SJM's couples have that. Where they can read each other, understand each other, and be dazzled by one another, sexually and emotionally, without words.

And Elucien just doesn't have that.

[sidthedollface2]

A Crown fit for a God

(Part 2 here)

Pairing: Azriel x Fem Reader

Summary: An enemy threatens Velaris leaving Azriel to choose between his found family and a long lost friend. Can he juggle the two or will he fall for the enemy?

word count: 2.6k

Series warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, hurt/comfort,light smut, war, including injuries, fighting, sign language, no use of y/n, nicknames, magic, greek mythology, pining, jealousy, azriel with other women (sorry), reader with another man (get it friend ; )

A/n: I'm a daydreamer not a writer so if you see any mistakes that's how I dreamt it. Lol

Azriel sat at his desk, reports and sightings of a hooded being trespassing multiple courts, leaving behind scorched farm lands and destroyed buildings scattered across the table. “Any luck?” Elain questioned, running her gentle hands over Azriel's shoulders, loosening his tense muscles. “I’ve been searching for over 500 years, but I think I'm getting close. Most recent sightings have been by women and children. Day or night it does not matter, they've seen IT and their bodies remain still, unable to move or scream until their work is done.” Azriel stared at the map of Prythian. “I think it’s finally here,” he met Elains worried eyes, “in the Night Court.” 

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

Azriel 8 yrs old

Azriel stopped sobbing once he knew no one would come for him. The foul smell of char and burnt flesh still lingered in his cell. His small hands trembled and shook from the intense pain, bubbles full of fluid and blackened skin covered both hands. Fingers locked and unable to move, not even to wipe at his heavy tears. The four walls to his cell provided nothing but cold nights and loneliness. With nothing to soothe the heat from his hands Azriel pressed his blistered palms flat to the cold floors. Hissing through clenched teeth as the coldness relieved some of the ache and heat within. Azriel hummed to a song inside his head, anything to pull his tired mind away from the pain and hopelessness he felt. With his eyes squeezed shut he tried to will the tears away, humming louder and louder to drown out his thoughts. His mind circled to a happier time. 

Small feet padding through fields of tall grass as he raced to his favorite spot; under a weeping willow. Perched against the tall tree the scent of fresh apples and citrus filled his nose as the wind carried the delicious scent towards him. His ears caught the melodious song of birds high above him. His gaze tracked up the tree to spot the feathered songbird but as soon as he craned his neck towards the sky time froze. A beautiful luna moth with large iridescent wings took flight, landing on the soft skin of Azriel’s cheek, tickling the small boy awake.

Azriel quickly opened his eyes, blinking rapidly in the darkness. The scent of citrus still lingered and time was eerily still. His pupils widened, adjusting to focus on what he was seeing. In the corner of his cell a shadowed figure stood still. Scrambling to his feet Azriel backed himself into the wall behind him. The dark figure inched closer, slowly, step by step. The hooded figure reached for Azriel's small hand. He told his mind to pull away, and to resist. But he was frozen against the cold wall, unable to move or cry out for help; not that anyone would help him. He tried to scream but the air left his lungs. Peeking beneath a hood Azriel saw the most stunning and captivating eyes he’d ever seen. Neither of the same color, yet bright and brilliant. One holds the color of the night sky, dark with swirls of violet and starlight. The other is pale and cloudy like the surface of the moon from Prythian. Your long shiny hair framed your youthful face and pouty lips perfectly. You don’t look much older than him yet you have this ancient presence he can't put his finger on.  

You're cool fingertips brush his knuckles, testing for his reaction. A small smile graces your lips as you remember that he’s unable to move. At least unable to move his outer extremities and vocal chords. Yet the windows to his soul tell you he's frightened. His wide hazel eyes are glassy, tears slowly filling his waterline. The rapid rise and fall in his chest is another clue to his distress. You let out a soft sigh as a single tear runs down his dirty cheek. Taking a step back you lay your palm flat against your chest, hoping he’ll understand what you intend to convey. Again, you pat your chest and azriel blinks in response. Bringing your hands in front of you, you tuck your fingers in creating a fist and curl both your forefingers and hook them together, with one wrist facing down and the other up you sign the word ‘Friend.’  

You wait for his breaths to slow before you gather his burned hand within yours. His knuckles are angry and reddened from the lack of healthy skin. Moderate pieces are blackened and multiple blisters are threatening to burst.  Carefully, you examine the extensive damage that was done, and begin to call upon your magic. Azriel's eyes widen to the size of saucers when your fingertips spark with what looks like stardust and your hand turns completely black from your fingertips down to your wrist. You gently run your star glittered forefinger down his. Starting at the base of his knuckle to the tip of his finger, healing all the delicate tissue and epidermis just like it was before. You release the magic holding him still, allowing him to relax his shoulders and curl the finger you healed. “How did-” the words die in his mouth as you continue to work on the next finger. Tracing once again from the base of his knuckle, down his slender finger to his nail. Revealing smooth and supple skin, no longer burned and charred.

The loud sound of a door opening startled both of you apart. Stopping your healing magic at only two fingers, Azriels paniced eyes met yours. You knew what he was asking. But you couldn't grant him more time, at least not yet. Quickly, you pulled your hood up over your head. Closing your hand in a fist you brought it to your chest, moving it in a circular motion; signing the word ‘sorry.’ 

“Wait!” Azriel’s arms dart out grasping onto the sleeve of your cloak only for the garment to fall at a pile to his feet. “Mother!” he gasped, shocked at your sudden disappearance, leaving behind your cloak that still had warmth and your scent. 

He’d kept your cloak all these years, the only cloth in his cell that kept him warm on those freezing nights. 

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

Az, something is breaching the wards, get down here. 

Rhys panicked words pierced through Azriel's mind as he abruptly sat up from the bed, the bed he shared with Elain. He quickly pulled his pants on, followed by his shirt and protective leathers. Placing a kiss to Elain's forehead, he winnowed to the location Rhys mentioned. 

An invisible force separated the three males from the dark figure that threatened Velaris. 

“Is It alone?” Cassian questioned, glancing behind and around the figure, assessing the intruder. His fingers itched at his sides, waiting for the slightest movement to unleash his blade. 

“She’s alone.” Rhys confirmed, gaze narrowed and unwavering at the dark figure. 

“She?” Both Cassian and Azriel said in unison, a look of shock on both their faces. It wasn’t that they doubted a female's ability. They knew the power that simmered beneath the skin. The unending strength, if provoked enough. The females in the inner circle, if combined, could take on males twice their size and fight wars alongside the bravest of warriors, but not alone. You’d have to be extremely powerful or extremely stupid to dare face the night court’s high lord alone.

Her gaze lifted above to the bright blue sky as if the power holding Velaris safe was visible to the eye. Her head swiveled left, noting how large the protection ran. Then to her right, gauging the amount of magic needed to breach the wards. At the moment, no army trailed behind her. No warrior or protector was by her side. She was simply there to send a message. 

“She’s unarmed.” Azriel's shadows slithered back to him, informing him of the lack of weapons and armor. She was defenseless and although a powerful barrier kept her out of Velaris, the two most violent and skilled warriors along with the most powerful highlord stood before her; she remained fearless. Her strong legs planted firm in the soil. It was difficult to determine what was under her dark cloak. His shadows stilled as her gaze met those of the shadowsinger. He knew those eyes. Azriel had searched for those beautiful eyes in every court, in every crowd, in every female. He’d dreamed of the day he’d see them again. His attention was directed to Rhys as he spoke in a firm demanding tone. 

“I will say this once, and only once-” 

Rhys' voice caught in his throat as the female's palms met the protective barrier. Electric current coursed through her veins, the power of lightning flickered from her fingers creating an orb of pure energy. Her foot dug into the soil behind her as she braced herself pushing through the wards, creating a space for her body to pass. All three males rushed towards her, charging at the enemy with bared teeth and blades ready to attack. Their large bulking frames and violence in their eyes was enough to bring grown men to their feet. 

Cassian sent a blast of red power straight towards her, expecting it to hit its target. Although stronger than most fae, his blast passed through her like a strong gust of wind. Whipping her head to its side, causing her long hair to flow out from under her hood. Her feet stayed planted, unwavering.

“Mother above.” Cassian breathed before he held his sword up high, slicing through the air as he brought it down over her head. Rhys' eyes widened for a fraction as Azriel’s truth teller clashed with Cassian, blocking his effort to harm her. Azriel’s shoulder roughly dug into Cassian's chest as he shoved his brother back with force. Betrayal laced in Cassian's eyes as he gaped at his brother. Out of all their arguments and bickering not once has Azriel disagreed with a common enemy. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Cassian sneered, meeting Azriels force with his own. Never one to back down at defending his court or his high lord. 

“You foolish boy!” Amren called from a distance, closing the space between them, “you cannot kill a God.” 

“Took you long enough,” Rhys tisked, plucking an invisible lint from his dark shirt. 

The hooded figure narrowed her eyes at the approaching Amren and scowled at the title that she clearly did not like. Azriel and Cassian ceased their bickering as Rhys' power shook the very ground they stood on, a wave of darkness ready to protect his city.

 “No one has breached these wards in 5,000 years.” Rhys declared with all the confidence of a high lord. Stepping forward, commanding the eyes of the hooded figure in a challenge, “what business does a God have in Velaris, surely you have better things to do.”

“Do not mock her, she can kill you where you stand.” Amren whispered. “As can I.” Rhys challenged. 

Her face remained unseen under the protection of her hood. Slowly her fingers came up beside her face, grasping the edges of the hood, she pushed the dark fabric over her head, revealing herself.

Amrens words ring true when the goddess reveals herself. Her beauty is unique and divine, flawless in the way that makes males fall to their knees. 

All the air from Azriels lungs vanished as he stared into those eyes. Years he’d been searching every court, reading countless books on healers and where they originated. Shamelessly making eye contact with each female he met hoping to one day find the mute girl who gave him purpose.  To hope one day he could thank her for her kindness to a boy who had nothing. 

“I’ve been looking for you.” Azriel exhaled, holding a palm out to Rhys and his brother letting them know ‘he’s got this.’ 

Your brows furrowed, and your eyes trailed down Azriels body. Trying your hardest to put a face or name to the male in front of you. After years of imagining how seeing you again would be, he didn't put into account the possibility of you not recognizing him. While Azriel admired how much you've grown since he first saw you. Your gaze seemed to pass right through him. And his worst fears were confirmed with a tilt of your head. 

You didn’t remember him. 

You couldn't recall any detail or encounter that would cause you to remember the male. Instead you focused your gaze on the High Lord. you were here to deliver a message after all. 

“High Lord of Night, ready your soldiers, a war is among you.” 

Surprise passed through Azriels eyes as he heard you speak. The day he met you your only form of communication was through hand signs. And now your voice is laced with threat, nothing like the gentle girl he met hundreds of years ago. He wonders what had changed.  

“And what do you bring to this war?” Rhys expression hardened. He tried to enter your mind to see for himself the truth of your words. Surprised to see your mind vulnerable for all, yet within the space were no visions or memories of your past, but  rings of blazing fire encircled a black hole with unknown knowledge within. Rhys had read about minds with black holes. It was a mystery as to what one would find within the hole. Some say time freezes for the observer, how long till it resumes has never been answered. Others say that if you fall into the black hole your mind fails the body and a blazing fire consumes you from the inside out, leaving behind ashes to be carried by the wind. 

“I bring Chaos and unrest, Lord of Night it be wise of you to heed my warning because your life will be in my hands.” 

Within seconds the afternoon sky turned dark and gray, the loud crack of thunder boomed in the distance and before either of them could reach you, you summoned a strike of lightning; hitting the ground like a whip. The flash was bright as it hit  and Rhys witnessed the wards he placed on Velaris crumble. A loud roar was heard throughout Velaris, a deadly creature answering your call.  It was then he realized, struggling to push through a small door to get within the protection wards was just for show. And whatever message you needed to deliver, something frightening answered. 

 Between the flashes of lightning and the echoes of thunder, just beyond the way they saw hundreds and hundreds of waiting soldiers. Looking at your retreating form, Azriel, Cassian and Amren rubbed at their eyes.

Once you reached the front line of fighters you looked over your shoulder, meeting Rhys powerful gaze and with a slight smirk you replaced his wards and removed the illusioned warriors. Leaving Velaris protected as it once was but now the threat of death and destruction looms near, not only to Rhys but everything and everyone he holds dear in Velaris. 

Part 2

~ thank you for reading

[zenkindoflove]

Elucien Murder Mystery

Summary: Detective Lucien Vanserra has been sent to Sunset Hollow to solve a grisly murder. Cunning and skeptical, he is determined to not allow superstition and hearsay divert him from the truth. However, the town is whispering of witches, and one suspected witch by the name of Elain Archeron haunts his dreams and his heart.

Read Chapter 3 - Remedies

Start at the beginning | Masterlist

Tag List: @crazy-ache, @works-of-heart, @bonecarversbestie, @little-fierling, @huntquinlan, @yennas-stuff, @sapphiresandgold , @olenvasynyt , @fortheloveofbanksy , @what-about-elvenis , @the-darkestminds , @teddyhoneybear

Snippet:

Lucien squatted down in front of the corpse, jotting notes in his pocket notebook as he examined the corpse nailed to the tree. His arms were crossed above him, a large rusty nail hammered through both his wrists. With his neck craned to the side and his head slung over his shoulder, he couldn’t help drawing parallels with specific iconography of The Church. From the shoulders down, his body was skinless and full of holes. The arrows were left behind. Whoever killed him hunted him down in these woods, shooting arrow after arrow into him until he collapsed to the ground. They then ripped the arrows out and skinned him like an animal. Like he was game and all they wanted was his pelt. “Poor bastard,” Tamlin’s deputy, Andras, said as he covered his mouth with a handkerchief.  

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Onesies | Lucien x Reader

Day 10: Unsanctioned Halloween Party w/ Lucien Vanserra

Summary: A girl’s night with Feyre, Elain and the Valkyries leads to your mate being stuffed into a onesie much too small for him.

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: attempted demon summoning (average girl sleepover behavior), all fluff!!

A/N: we are so back (fall break is starting and I got a normal amount of sleep SHOCKING I know) hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

It had meant to be a normal night home with some of your friends, just dressing up in onesies that matched them and that were comfortable. You’d all gotten them during a girl’s night out in Velaris where you and Lucien were temporarily staying on a business trip.

Because Night Court was, well, night-themed, most shops and restaurants were open well after dark, some were even open 24/7 with rotating staff or wraiths operating them, since they didn’t need sleep like Fae required. You, Feyre, Elain, and Nesta, an interesting group at midnight, had all wandered into a shop, looking for something cute to wear, or anything cozy for the Autumn season that would keep you warm.

It was Elain who’d spotted them first.

Fuzzy, warm onesies that were zip-up in the back, hood and everything, large pockets, generally perfect. And it made it all the better that they depicted the childhood characters of stories you’d all been told when you were younger.

Well, stories that the three Archerons had known, but you hadn’t learned, considering they were primarily human. It was a wonder that the shopkeeper, a crinkly old Illyrian that smelt like cinnamon, had even made them.

As Nesta browsed through the selection, choosing one for herself, and her fellow Valkyries, Elain and Feyre clutching the ones they wanted, Elain caught you up on the stories while you picked through them, trying to decide amongst the bright patterns.

“Oh, that one? Well, he was from…oh, what was it called, Feyre?”

The High Lady craned her neck to look and chuckled when she saw what you were holding up.

“That was from the one book, wasn’t it? With Pooh Bear?”

“Pooh Bear?”

You asked, raising a brow, and Nesta rolled her eyes in fond exasperation.

“With an ‘H’ after the ‘Poo’. But the one you’re holding…the donkey, isn’t it? I forget his name every time.”

She said, Elain and Feyre’s faces both crinkled in contemplation as they looked at the one you were holding, mostly blue fur with a purple belly, a tail with a pink bow and black fur, and a hood with long, donkey ears, a mouth and muzzle, and cartoonishly drooping eyes.

“I can’t put my finger on it.”

Feyre said, and Elain shrugged, holding her yellow onesie to her chest, hers had rounded ears, like bears, with friendly cartoonish eyes on the front and a smile with dots for the nostrils.

Feyre held a pink onesie that had stripes with a darker pink on the arm and leg areas. It slightly resembled a worm, and though you didn’t say it aloud, you must’ve been thinking it, because she burst out laughing not soon after.

Nesta looked very confused, and Elain just blinked, before Feyre wheezed out.

“She—she thinks Piglett looks like a worm.”

Nesta barked out a laugh at that while Elain giggled, before the former finally picked out one, pulling out three separate costumes, one being blue, the other pink, and another being a lighter pink, all having floppy ears and strange eyes.

“You’re telling me those were in your childhood stories? They look terrifying.”

You said, and Feyre rolled her eyes, mumbling something before a bright orange onesie caught her eye. It had black stripes, similar cartoonish eyes to Elain’s, and a tail and lighter-colored belly. Mildly resembling a tiger.

“You should make Lucien wear this,”

She said with a devilish grin, pulling it off of the rack, and displaying it in its full glory.

“It would complete the group.”

Elain said, clearly trying to convince you, and with a sigh, you obliged, taking the outfit from Feyre’s hand and walking over to pay for your selections.

Well, Feyre and Elain had arrived, Nesta soon after with Emerie and Gwyn in tow, the Illyrian proudly displaying her blue costume, and the priestess shyly wearing her light-colored one.

You’d set out a few bowls of food, such as pretzels, gummies, and small candy treats for anyone walking by who was hungry, and had your couch set away to the side so the six of you could sit in a circle in the living room, gossiping and chatting away as some worked on bracelets (mainly the Valkyries), Elain knitting, Feyre and you trying a supposed spell she’d found in her great-great grandma’s little trove hidden away in a floorboard beneath their original cabin.

So far, the ‘spell’ had only caused plenty of giggling as you poured salt in a circle on the floor, while Feyre set little candles out. Even if a demon or whatnot did happen to be summoned, you were quite confident that everyone would be perfectly fine, with Lady Death, Feyre Cursebreaker, the Valkyries, and Elain Sight-Seer all in this room.

You heard his familiar footsteps before he got too close, and glanced up to see your mate walk into the room, a warm smile on his lips as something in his eyes melted at the sight of the girl’s night you were having.

He walked over to you, stride familiar, before raising a brow at the old book you and Feyre had opened, and the range of things on the floor from a crow’s foot to sticks bound together, salt, and small candles.

“Having fun?”

He asked in a small murmur, pressing a little kiss against your cheek that made Feyre smirk, giving you a look.

“Mhm, thanks for helping me set everything up, Luci.”

You kissed him back, right on the tip of the nose, and watched the satisfaction in his gaze, the way he preened at the praise of having made you happy and helped you. Nesta snorted from the other end of the circle at the love-sick gaze he gave you, and he let out a little huff of amusement as Emerie gave a low ‘boooo’ at the male in the room.

“Anything for you, I’ll be in our room if you need me.”

He said, moving to stand upright, walking away after giving one last reassuring smile, and it was only then that like a chord being plucked on a harp, an idea struck.

“Wait!”

You said, and he stopped dead in his tracks, turning around and raising a brow. You hesitated, before turning to Nesta, mouthing something, and watching as a devilish grin twisted her lips upwards, murmuring into her girl’s ears, and they grinned too, before like a game of telephone, everyone quickly knew what was going on and turned to a very confused Lucien.

“Anything for me?”

You asked, a smirk pulling at your lips despite the faux-innocent tone you had, and you saw the moment that kernel of realization entered his eyes, slight panic filling them in an ‘oh shit’ sort of moment.

~

It barely fit.

Emerie was in the back, laughing her ass off while trying to get the back of it up and over his ass, which seemingly was impossible, even when Gwyn joined in, eventually Nesta too.

You were in the front, tugging up the front of the onesie, even though it wouldn’t go up over his pecs, which at this point was making you feel a bit insulted with how easily your onesie had fit over yours.

“Why won’t it—“

A round of grunting as Feyre started joining in, arms turning to spaghetti, limp as noodles once the laughing fits started, before you both tried again and got it up and over, only when some seams popped with a slight ripping noise, making the Valkyries bust out laughing even harder, even Elain giggling.

Elain eventually joined in with the effort to get the back over his ass, smoothing the bunched-up material out, before you put a palm over the cheeks of his ass and smushed them down while Nesta yanked the material up, finally getting it pulled up enough to where it could be halfway zipped.

The rest of the zipper simply refused to go, his back muscles not cooperating like his thin waist.

With a defeated sigh, you took the small victory that you’d even gotten him partly in it, pulling the hood over his head, all the girls stepping back and taking a glance at him in the comically small onesie, cheeks bright red as well as his ears while he stood there awkwardly, like a child who’d just been scolded. An upside-down mix between a frown and smile was on his face.

You all burst into little fits of giggles as he huffed, stepping forward, into your arms and leaning into you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck while you laughed.

He sighed deeply, and you could practically feel his pout.

“Never again,”

He muttered, only furthering your laughing to the point where you were sure the whole neighborhood could hear it.

Tags:

@hawke1917

[sageandscorpiongrass]

could you do a web about falling out of love with someone and hurting because you miss the "old them"?

Ah! I hope this does it justice! ;^^

this would be so much easier if i still knew you.

First Love, Jennifer Franklin | Armed Cavalier, Richie Hofmann | Self Portrait in Dark Interior, Curtis Bauer | Stuff I probably did and didn't, Stephanie Gray | Never Love an Anchor, The Crane Wives | Waiting, Caitlyn Siehl | Russian Ending, Jerry Williams | The More Loving One, W. H. Auden | _sayorikinnie on pinterest | The River-Merchant's Wife: A Letter, Erza Pound | @/inanotheruniverse on tumblr | @/dazzlingtiredeyes on tumblr | Wrong Side of a Fistfight, Ashe Vernon | Ode to People Who Hate Me, Carmen Giménez | If My Body Could Speak; What I couldn’t explain via text, Blythe Baird | @/chloeinletters on tumblr | Romance or The End, Elaine Kahn | Presumably Dead Arm, Sidney Gish

[text transcription in alt text]

[dangerpronebuddie]

Several Sentences Sunday!!

Tagged by @hippolotamus @tizniz who both shared BRILLIANT stuff y'all should absolutely show some love!! 🩷🩵

I've gotten so much done with Make Me Write this past week, and I thank y'all for helping me 🥰. I still have a few asks to answer, and hopefully that'll happen today (or tomorrow). In the meantime, have some Buckfidelity fic that I'm pretty happy with:

“I'd wear a costume for you,” Eddie says. Buck snorts. “You already are. You suggested it.” He reaches over with his free hand to tap Eddie's thigh and then just… leaves it there, the heat of his palm adding to the fire in Eddie’s belly. “Yeah,” Eddie says. “Cause you were excited about it. You should get to be excited about things and- and have someone who wants to see that grin on your face.” “Eddie,” Buck whispers, barely loud enough to be heard over the music, but it drowns out the noise anyway. Eddie cranes his neck to look at Buck, his head landing on his shoulder. Buck looks down at him, his pupils blown wide. His gaze flits down to Eddie's mouth and he licks his lips. “Eddie,” he says, or maybe begs, and then his mouth is on Eddie's. Eddie gasps, in surprise or relief, he doesn't know, and kisses back with everything he has. Buck tastes like beer and lime and salt, but there's a sweetness that's so wholly Buck beneath it all and Eddie teases the seam of his lips, desperate to chase that taste. There's a fire crackling in his middle, one he hasn't felt in… years probably. He spares a thought for Marisol, and Tommy, and the fact he didn't think about either of them until now should probably say something about his character, but he finds he doesn't care too much with Buck's lower lip between his teeth. He reaches up, carding his fingers through the mess of sweat-damp curls at the back of Buck’s head, and holds him closer. Buck hums lowly and sucks on Eddie's tongue. The hand on his thigh is slowly making its way up, Buck’s fingertips trailing the inseam of Eddie's slacks. His index finger brushes Eddie's crotch and Eddie moans into the kiss, the slightest touch sending sparks along his spine. Buck pulls away, panting like he ran a marathon. “Eddie,” he says again, his voice wrecked. The bright blue of his irises are almost eclipsed by his pupils. His lips are swollen and spit-slick. There's a pretty pink tint to his cheeks, either from the alcohol or Eddie or both. Either way. He looks debauched from just one kiss. He looks beautiful, and he's Eddie’s. At least for now. He's Eddie's, just like Eddie is Buck's.

(tags under the cut! As always please let me know if you want to be added/ removed):

@lover-of-mine @loveyouanyway @daffi-990 @kitteneddiediaz

@ronordmann @steadfastsaturnsrings @inell @exhuastedpigeon

@thekristen999 @monsterrae1 @diazheartsbuckley @wildlife4life @misshiss727

@rainbow-nerdss @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @lunarspark-cos @idealuk @shipperqueen6 @slowlyfoggydestiny @eddiesfagstache

@lin27 @jshadow01 @orangeboxfox92 @thegeekcompanion @emilybahu @lemotmo @awolfnamed-nyx

@kaseysgirl86-blog @darkrose6578 @totallynotagoraphobic @dandelioncasey @bibuckbuckgoose @whatsgoodinthehood22

@lady-elaine @buckley-diaz-rules @buddiedaydreamer911 @monroemary @pirate-hunter @snowviolettwhite @hermoineindisguise @tidesreach

@nonspeakingkiku @eddiedisasterdiaz @drunkandsupportiveeddie @epicbuddieficrecs @disasterbuck

@gnoeltop @keynb @cassi-brooks @-syrup-sue @punkrock00 @shannonhutchins @aroqueerfandoms @unlifeira @marissaleec @kissyboytroye

@lyricfulloflight @charlzie-ghost @hypersensitivitywitch @kindlingtotheflames @wallywise @zerokrox-blog and anyone else who wants to share!! 🥰🩷

[eudaimonia83]

Posting a little Elucien treat, just bc I actually HAVE written things recently, I just haven’t FINISHED them. Details, schmetails. 💁🏽‍♀️

——————————

“Why, Elain Archeron,” he murmured, and his fingers climbed her arm to rest against her bare shoulder, tangling lightly in one of her loose curls. “I would never have believed it of you.”

“Believed what, my lord?” She feigned innocence, eyes wide and bright as moonbeams.

His fingers tugged gently at the hem of the sheet she had covered herself with. “That you would forego a nightdress. So bold of you.”

She blushed, fighting the sense of being flustered. It was time, sang her blood, thrilling under her skin, to reach out, to embrace, to touch. “It seemed…” she hesitated, searching for the word. “…a shame, somehow. It’s a beautiful night. To not enjoy the breeze would be…” her voice snagged as his fingers abandoned the sheet and slid up her neck, resting at the angle of her jaw.

“Would be…?” His voice teased her but his eyes — oh, those eyes, gold flame and glowing ember — searched hers, utterly serious, glimmering with want.

“Un…” She hitched a breath. “Ungrateful.”

“Hmm. Well. That won’t do at all. We should always be grateful for the time we’ve been given.” The breeze rustled, rippling the curtains. He leaned forward until their noses almost touched. “Then may I join you?”

Caught off guard by the forthrightness, it took her a moment to nod.

He stood up and pulled his quiver over his head, setting it gently against one of the pillars, and then unbuckled his knife belt that sat low on his waist, the knife at the side swinging down in its sheath to scrape the white stone floor. Elain watched, hungry for the light and shadow to play along his skin, as he unfastened his jerkin and then his shirt, letting each one fall slowly to the floor. She swallowed hard. He grinned, a flash in the moonlight, and she knew he was going slowly on purpose. To tease her.

Then watch, her mind whispered. If he wants you to see, then look. It isn’t shameful…it isn’t wanton. Is it? She craned her neck to the side, letting an appreciative little smile curl the very edges of her lips. His eyes locked with hers, although they were just a gleam in the moonlit darkness. There was a hitch, a catch against her ribs, like the tug of a magnet toward a metal surface. The bond. Was he reeling her in? Should she…let him?

But that little doubting shadow in her mind quieted as he unbuckled his belt and pulled it off, rolling up the leather strap before placing it next to his quiver, then unfastened his boots. He had to bend over to do it, and his breeches rode down over his hips slightly; Elain’s eyes widened, drinking in the sweep of his back muscles tapering down to his narrow waist. He was long and lean, not at all the same body type as Cassian or Azriel; built for running, for horseback, for silent stalking on hunts that would last all night and only yield prey as the dawn broke. For endurance. Mother of mercy, her mouth was dry. She shifted under the sheet, craning her neck to get a better view…but, with a sly gleam of a smile, he had turned to face away from her, and stretched, loose and relaxed, with his arms over his head. She narrowed her eyes, a stab of petulance cutting through her.

“I can feel your disapproval,” he said over his shoulder, leaning back and forth in the moonlight, which touched him like a caress, long fingers of light and shadow sliding along his shoulders and the groove of his spine. “Should I stop?”

“I think I’ll kill you if you do,” she burst out, against all of her better judgment.

He turned then, and slid his breeches down and off in one movement. She let out a little sound, excitement and anguish and trembling expectancy.

He climbed over her, stretching her out beneath him, pulling her arms up over her head and squeezing them gently at the wrists. “Making threats, Blossom?” he whispered. “They sound so sweet in your shivering little voice. Now, don’t tell me there’s other things you’ve been keeping from me? Other talents?”

“Kiss me,” she insisted, stretching up to him to try to catch his mouth. It was too far away, much too far. She wanted him all over her, to cover her skin in a cascade of warmth, an avalanche of scent and sensation. “Please kiss me, Lucien.”

“Oh, I plan on it,” he said, using his free hand to peel the sheet away, taking her in with a gleam of his eyes and a flare of his nostrils. His fingertip rested lightly on the seam of her lips. “But not there.”

Her eyes widened in shock, but it was already happening, and in the fierce rush of her heartbeat as his hands gripped her waist, she realized she would let him do whatever he wanted to her. He flipped her over on the mattress and pulled her backwards until she was kneeling, arms stretched over her head. Then he crawled between her knees, and lay on his back, staring up at her, gold gilded in silver, flame shrouded in ombre, gripping her thighs hard enough to bruise. She sat up, alarmed, not sure what was happening next, but his grip tightened, thumbs stroking her thighs, pulling her knees further apart until she lowered herself to sit on his chest.

“Listen to me,” he said, and there was a core of steel in his voice that straightened her spine and raised gooseflesh all over her arms, torso, breasts, belly… “I’m going to taste you until you come, until you break into fragments. If it’s too much, just say, Lucien, stop…and I will. But otherwise, I’m going to take you apart the way you’ve always deserved. Do you want that?”

She whimpered, not even sure if it was fear or excitement. “…y…yes.”

“Then move this luscious ass forward and sit on my mouth.”

“But…”

“You heard me.”

——————————————

Just a little light-dom Luci for your Tuesday morning consideration 😈😈😈

[drinkingcoffee-inthedark]

“You love him, don’t you?” Azriel’s smooth, deep voice startled you from your thought.

You craned your neck and squinted into the darkness, making out the sapphire siphons adorning his muscular frame. Sucking in a deep breath of the chilled Velaris air, your mouth quirked up in a wistful smile.

“Who?” You asked as casually as you could manage, before training your eyes at the starry horizon just over the balcony of the River House.

The Shadowsinger scoffed softly, growing agitated at the game you played with him. He took a couple steps forward, standing against the rail of the balcony next to you.

“Lucien.” The first time he’s said the Emissary’s name without an undertone of malice.

You swallowed hard, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Yeah,” you admitted quietly, your voice strained and tinny in your own ears. You dipped your head and took in the scene in the garden below. “I love him.”

The massive wedding celebration was underway; Elain Archeron and Lucien Vanserra becoming husband and wife. Your heart felt uncomfortably heavy nestled above your hollow ribs.

Azriel reached out and took your hand in his, and only then we’re you able to tear your sights away from the scene below. Your eyes welled up as you searched Azriel’s hazel eyes as if they contained the remedy to your heart ache. His gaze was the softest you’d ever seen it. It broke you.

Your face crumpled finally, as you knew it would eventually. Fat, salty tears ran down your cheeks as you whimpered painfully- a sound Azriel would never be able to forget.

“I-it hurts, Az. So b-bad…” you hiccuped out, as the Illyrian warrior pulled you into his arms. He held you tightly as you sobbed into his chest. His fingers danced gently across your back, as he whispered soothing words into your ear.

Your sobs subsided slowly, just as the night sky crackled alive with fireworks. The colors exploded in the air, and you slowly lifted your face from Azriel’s chest. His fingers found your chin and he steadied your face, studying every detail. Your red rimmed eyes, wet checks, and quivering lip nearly broke his heart. Your eyes searched his once again, like he had the needle and thread to sew up everything that was broken in you.

The Shadowsinger dipped his head, resting his forehead against yours. Your breath hitched at the contact, and you let your eyes flutter shut. You were consumed by the scent of cedar and night air. You could hear his ragged breathing- could practically feel his heart pounding. It was almost as if you could hear the gears turning in his head- he was unsure of himself for once. Fighting between his head and his heart.

So you made the decision for him.

You tilted your head upwards, pressing your lips against his, cupping his cheek with your fingers. You felt the male melt into your touch, sighing in relief at the contact he’d waited so long for. He pulled you closer, reveling in your sweet kiss.

The two of your remained that way, wrapped up in each other, oblivious to an onlooker from the event below.

Lucien, from the rose garden where he was dancing with his Bride, spotted you and Azriel in your embrace. In that moment, the Emissary felt something in his chest splinter.

[theladyofbloodshed]

Chapter 6 of 6

Happy Halloween! Thanks y'all for reading. I know the poll voted for smut, but I couldn't squeeze it in with eccentric constable Eris Crane.

Nesta awoke with a dry throat and a groggy head as if she’d spent her day at the bottom of a barrel of ale. She wished she had. She could not chase the images of her sisters from her mind – nor of the constable who had departed their village.

She pushed herself up from the hard ground. Hard ground? She had awoken in her bed, a single note from Eris detailing his departure, and had sought the jug of water he had left beside it. Now she was here. Wherever it was.

The interior was entirely wooden. Great sacks of flour were stacked up beside hay.

‘Awake at last. Did you think it was all a nasty dream? Alas, no.’

Nesta blinked away the last of her drowsiness.

‘My sister saw the Horseman kill you.’

Rhysand turned, a slow smile spreading across his angular face. ‘No. She saw the Horseman coming towards me with his sword unsheathed and I told her to run. But it is I who govern Jurian, my dear sister. Feyre did not linger to see Elain’s head parted from her body or that mine was not.’

‘But your body.’

‘I always thought Azriel useless, but he proved himself to have one use at least. Tomorrow, I will emerge and announce I saw Elain and Azriel in an act of passion then the Horseman came from them. How I fainted and woke in the woods, my memories patchy from horror.’

Nesta forced herself to sit upright against the wall.

‘Who are you?’

A charming man who had known many of the village when he had swept her sister off of her feet and helped to mend her broken heart.

‘I lived with my father, my mother, and sister in a cottage not far from here.’ His violet eyes skimmed towards the window as if he could see all the way to his cottage. ‘My father died at Van Garrett’s hand. An argument over land turned deadly.’ He shook his head. ‘Atwell and his son disposed of my mother and sister while they slept. Had I not been out collecting firewood, I would have burnt with our cottage too.’

Nesta remembered talk of a family who lived on the edge of the forest. They kept to themselves with rumours of witchcraft spread about the mother.

‘I was forced to live alone. A boy, still. Then, one day, I happened across Jurian in the woods as he ran from the enemy.’ Rhysand ran a knife across his thumb, the blade not cutting the skin. ‘I saw his death and from that moment I offered my soul to Satan if he would raise Jurian from the grave to avenge me.’

‘Avenge you?’

‘Against Van Garrett. Against his son.’ He said it so simply as if his entire life had culminated in this moment. ‘The easiest part was to enter your house. I spoke to Feyre. Convinced her an engagement to Tamlin would only end in misery. That he was cruel to women. She listened most eagerly – and I was there to offer a shoulder in comfort. Advised her that there needed to be a man about the house for her protection after your father died.’

He had slipped in like a snake, preyed on her vulnerable sister.  

‘Then the Widow Briar had to open her legs for Tamlin.’ Rhysand shook his head. ‘Not quite as easy to secure my legacy. A few threats or seductions meant I could learn who was privy to the secret and have away with them.’

‘You have everything now.’

Rhysand gave a deep, rich laugh. ‘No. You do. By your sister’s will. But I get everything in the event of your death.’  

Nesta’s ears were ringing as she tried to make sense of it all. All of this – these senseless killings – was for money? For revenge?

‘You killed the Witch of the Woods.’ There had been too much blood. The wound not cauterized as the others had been.

‘She sheltered me once. An acquaintance of my mother. She shouldn’t have opened her mouth to you and the Constable.’ Rhysand clapped his hands and turned. ‘Who is just on time to have his head sliced off.’

Eris, with a rapier in his hand, had crept into the old mill. It drooped limply in his hand from being caught.

Rhysand picked up the skull from the altar he had built. ‘The Horseman comes. Tonight, he comes for you both.’

The wind picked up outside. Nesta could feel the beat of the horse’s hooves echoing in her heart. Eris surged forwards, a hand clamping around her wrist to haul her to her feet.

‘Quickly.’

Higher. They had to reach higher ground where Jurian’s horse would not go. Nesta was pushed towards a ladder. Eris lifted her up the first few rungs then her hands scrambled the rest of the way with him following closely behind.

The moment they had entered the attic, Eris slammed the wooden doors closed and bolted it.

‘That won’t hold,’ Nesta cried.

Together they pushed a large grindstone against the trapdoors as the Horseman pounded them from below.

The Horseman took his axe and began hacking at the door.

‘Up there,’ Eris urged, pointing towards the window.

Nesta’s legs trembled as she climbed another ladder. The mill gave a groan of protest as its massive gears began to turn. The counterwheels above their heads began turning then the rotors slowly began spinning outside.

Eris joined her beside the window and hauled bags of milled grain to the edge of the platform. His rapier cut through it, sending grain spilling below where the Horseman sought to break down the trapdoor. Clouds of dust formed beneath the platform – then Nesta heard the crash of the milling stone falling through the trapdoor.

The Horseman was coming.

‘Get ready to jump,’ Eris said.

‘Jump? From here?’ Nesta’s legs almost gave up. ‘I can’t.’

Before her doubt could swallow her, Eris gripped her hand fiercely. ‘Yes, you can, my love. Hand in hand.’

One of the rotors was moving upwards, drawing closer.

Eris threw a lit lantern into the stream of milled grain still falling upon the Horseman as he sought them out.

‘Now.’

He kept his grip on her as they leapt upon one of the rotors.

A deafening sound came from the windmill as the lantern shattered and flames roared through the interior.

The rotor turned downwards although the entire structure trembled as the mill burnt.

Eris jumped first, grunting as he landed upon the ground, then he held out his arms for Nesta.

It was less of a jump that she managed. Rather, she simply let go of the rotor and tipped. Eris did his best to catch her, the pair of them going to the ground with a thump.

‘You came back,’ she breathed.

‘We cannot linger.’

They made for Eris’ horse, legs moving slower than they wanted. It felt sluggish, like a dream.

The mill gave a great creak as it collapsed in on itself. Flames devoured it.

‘Is he dead?’

‘He was dead to start with,’ Eris replied. ‘That’s the problem.’

The constable threw her in the saddle then mounted swiftly.

From out of the flames, the Horseman emerged.

His horse galloped to meet him.

Eris gave a snap of the reins to urge Gunpowder on.

‘Where will we go?’

‘Anywhere.’

‘Make for the church, Eris.’

‘We won’t reach it.’

Nesta braved a glance behind them. The Horseman was giving chase and moving fast.

A pistol sounded. Before Nesta could register it, Gunpowder made a high-pitched whinny then they were falling.

Nesta could not mourn the horse for Eris was already dragging her towards the trees.

‘What? Still alive,’ came Rhysand’s voice.

‘Run, Nesta.’

Rhysand laughed. ‘Yes, do run. And jump. And skip.’ He cocked his pistol at Nesta. ‘And now let’s see a somersault.’

A force knocked the wind out of her. Eris had shielded her with his own body. The bullet had grazed his arm so blood welled upon his shirt.

The sound of the fearsome horse grew closer.

‘There she is. Take her, she’s yours.’

Eris’ eyes had glazed over as he looked at Rhysand, his gaze lingering on his black satchel. Nesta waited for a moment or two for a great plan to reveal itself. For Eris to solve the mystery and save her.

There was no time.

Nesta pushed herself up and began to run.

***

The wound on his arm burnt. Each thrum of his pulse gave another leak of blood upon his shirt.

But he needed to save Nesta. Needed to pull himself from the shock and save her.

The satchel.

The skull.

Rising out of pure determination, Eris made himself run. To run and close in on Rhysand. He leapt, dragging the man from his horse so they both went down hard.

The satchel opened and the Horseman’s skull rolled out from it.

The pair of them fought and scrambled to reach the skull first. Eris’ nails scratched at Rhysand’s face as a knee hit him in the ribs. He tugged at the collar of Rhysand’s dark suit to bring him close then, with as much force as he could muster, head butted the male.

He went limp.

Eris forced him off and crawled towards the skull, seeing stars in his vision from the impact.

The Horseman had Nesta upon her knees, holding her by her beautiful hair.

No.

‘Horseman!’

Eris threw the skull towards him.

Jurian dropped Nesta to catch the skull. She scrambled over the ground towards him. He held her tightly.

The skull was lowered upon Jurian’s neck. Blood and flesh rose up from his throat, covering the bone. Lips and eyes and hair began growing, turning him into the man he had once been with dark eyes and brown hair. His teeth had been sharpened to points, confirming the stories of Sleepy Hollow.

The Horseman turned towards them and mounted his horse.

Eris braced himself as the horse rode towards them, but Jurian did not brandish his sword. When he rode past them, Nesta made a quivering noise and pressed herself closer to him.

The Horseman reared down upon Rhysand’s unconscious form and hauled him into the saddle with one hand. He gripped the man’s black hair as he began to wake. A scream came from Rhysand for a moment then the Horseman bore down on him, his jagged teeth ripping into flesh.

The earth seemed to give a shudder as they galloped back towards the hole in the ground at the base of the tree then the air went still as if the world was satisfied, that the evil had been righted.

‘I would be overjoyed, Eris, if you would take me home.’

‘And perhaps a cup of tea.’

Nesta gave a shaking laugh. ‘Or something stronger.’

***

Healing was a lie. Nesta would feel the wounds of her sisters’ deaths for the rest of her life. All she could do was bind them tightly and continue on.

‘Do you have everything?’

Eris watched as the last few of her bags were stowed atop the carriage. His red hair was combed neatly and parted on one side. He was tall and slender. A gentleman in deeds if sometimes his words stumbled over themselves with eccentricity.

‘I have what is important,’ she replied, standing beside him and lacing her arm with his.

A kiss was pressed to the top of her head then he lead the way to the carriage.

There was no final look to the house that had been her home for these last few years. It hadn’t truly been a home. Even their cramped cottage in the woods hadn’t felt like a home either. But Nesta hoped that she would find that home with Eris in New York City.

‘I should like to learn to dance.’

‘Certainly,’ he said, offering her a hand into the carriage.

‘You understand that I will need a dance partner, Eris.’

He paled somewhat at that then nodded. ‘For you, Miss Tassel, anything.’