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imaginesandbandfiction · 9 months ago

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Second Chances

Pairing: Cassian x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: This is part 2 of Second Choices! Part 3 will be a shamelessly smutty epilogue so click here to be added to the taglist to be notified when that's live!

Warnings: Drinking, little bit of angst/alludes to a history of abuse

Rhysand returned from Windhaven just in time for dinner, rested and refreshed after a long weekend holed up in his mother’s cottage with the male he’d been casually seeing for the past few months. In addition to being pretty, Austris had a wicked tongue that kept Rhys thoroughly distracted.

It was three days of pure bliss; of forgetting about his duties and giving into every whim and desire that struck him without thought. While he dreaded returning to work and his responsibilities, the thought of spending the evening catching up with his family put a little bounce in his step as he landed outside the House of Wind.

The outdoor dining table was set, silver trays piled high with juicy, slow-cooked meats, a rainbow of roasted vegetables, and potatoes whose garlic-and-rosemary glaze wafted in the early evening breeze. Fae lights floated above, illuminating the feast in a soft glow. Behind it all, he saw his family sprawled out on the lounge chairs. Judging by the scattered bottles littering the ground around them, he had lots of catching up to do.

He took one step and then Mor jumped up, waving her wine glass towards him.

“Rhys is back!” She exclaimed, nearly tripping over her own feet as she rushed towards him. “Time to eat!” Her voice was suspiciously loud, though he supposed that happened when one drank too much on an empty stomach.

He chuckled and accepted the one-armed hug she offered.

“Good to see you too, cousin,” he said, guiding her towards the table. “You must be really hungry.”

Amren stalked past, face pinched in a scowl.

“You have no idea,” she grumbled as she plopped down in a chair. She reached for an unopened bottle of red wine and uncorked it with her teeth, filling her goblet to the brim.

Rhys’ eyebrows skyrocketed towards his hairline, turning to throw a questioning look at Az and Cas as they made their way to the table. The Shadowsinger’s face was impenetrable, as usual, but in three centuries of friendship Rhys had never seen Cassian look so pitiful. His wings drooped dangerously close to brushing against the ground, and his hair was a loose, tangled mess that hung over his face. Beneath it, shadows lined bloodshot eyes that were cast downward, lacking their usual spark of mischief.

Azriel shook his head as he passed; the movement was barely more than a twitch but Rhys got the meaning loud and clear. He took his seat and poured himself a hefty glass of wine; he had a feeling he was going to need it.

Everyone settled at the table, refilling drinks and piling food onto their plates, yet there was a gaping hole between Mor and Cas where you should have been.

“Where’s Y/N?” He asked, not thinking much of your absence although he was disappointed that he wouldn’t get to catch up with you before it was back to business as usual the next morning.

Suddenly, everyone stilled with their forks and goblets held aloft. It was too quiet. Panic jolted his heart into a sprint as he took in the frozen faces of his Inner Circle looking like children caught sneaking sweets before supper.

Finally, Amren spoke, glaring at Cas as she spat, “Ask Cassian.”

The Lord of Bloodshed glared at her and pushed away from the table, chair clattering to the ground behind him.

“I’m eating in my room,” he snarled, stabbing the fattest, rarest steak with his fork and plopping it on top of the vegetables piled on his plate.

“Cauldron boil me, I leave you alone for three days,” Rhys muttered, downing his wine in one long gulp.

—

Earlier that day, Amren had stopped by your room and offered to skip dinner with you, but you were looking forward to a quiet evening in the library. Alone. After storming out on Cassian, your two best (female) friends had spent the night in your room with you, drinking straight from the bottle of Illyrian moonshine you’d pilfered from Rhys’ secret stash until you passed out in a tangled mess of limbs and hair somewhere between midnight and dawn.

They’d only agreed to leave when you threatened to show Rhys the memory of them breaking into his room using only a hairpin the night before. And even then, every two hours or so you’d get a knock and a quiet “Just checking in!” from one or the other. You suspected they drew up a schedule, and though you were grateful to have such caring friends, what you really needed was peace and quiet.

It was hard to wrap your head around just how much things had changed within a span of twenty-four hours. But curled up amongst the stacks of old books in a plush armchair tucked away in a little alcove, you finally managed to admit to yourself that you could have handled things better. After all, you were the one that made this mess for yourself—you should have known better than to shit-talk Cassian’s girlfriend—and instead of apologizing, you’d fucked things up even further.

With a sigh, you cracked open the stiff leather cover of your journal and flipped to a blank page, letting your pencil hover above it. Not one to pay too much attention to emotions and feelings, the little book hadn��t gotten much use in the nearly two centuries since Rhysand had gifted it to you.

But when your brain was twisted into too many knots that not even a night of drinking with your friends could untangle, the only thing that seemed to help was spilling your guts onto paper. Seeing your thoughts laid out in graphite helped you make sense of them, so you pressed down the tip of your pencil and forced your hand to move.

Cassian is my mate. He’s my mate and I fucked everything up and he probably wants nothing to do with me.

I’ve been trying to ignore it, to push down these stupid feelings. I thought it was just the bond trying to force me into something more with someone who was supposed to be my best friend. Just a friend.

But if I’m being completely honest, I think I’ve always been a little bit in love with him. After all, you don’t sleep with someone on and off for half a century if there isn’t at least some baseline of attraction.

I don’t know, I guess I just always assumed that since my father didn’t want me and my mother only wanted me for the child support check, well, no one would ever want me. Not forever; not as a wife and definitely not as a mate.

I’m too damaged for anyone.

Too damaged for Cassian.

Having him as a friend forever was more important than trying for more. It was too big of a risk, and I couldn’t lose him. Couldn’t lose my family, not when I finally got one that stuck around.

I could sleep with him, though. It was transactional; a mutual itch-scratching made purposefully hazy by Mirthroot and alcohol. In those stolen moments, I could pretend I was someone else. Someone worth keeping.

Mor thinks I’m insane for keeping the bond to myself for so long, but we were fucking regularly enough to take the edge off and, well. I learned to grit my teeth and take it on the chin before I got my first cycle.

I’m good at pushing things down, at pretending to be okay. Even if he does want me, I don’t know if I can handle it. That deep, emotional intimacy without anywhere to hide.

Your hand flew across the page as words poured out of the deepest, darkest parts of you. The things you kept hidden from everyone, including yourself. Tears swelled in the corners of your eyes which stung from the effort it took to keep them from falling.

And then you felt a gentle knock against your mental shields. Rhys must be back. You peel them back just enough to let his voice in.

Y/N? Can I come down and say hi to my favorite sister?

I’m your only sister, motherfucker. I better be your favorite.

He waited, a soft breath of a presence within your mind, swirling winds of calm smoothing out the edges of the turbulent waves crashing around in there.

Even though, normally, you’d rather die than let anyone see you like this, you agreed.

Fine. But only because I missed you, you stupid bat.

Love you too, sis.

You closed the journal and tucked it beneath one thigh, adjusting the blanket you’d brought down with you so it’s fully covering the little book. It didn’t take long before you heard his light footsteps descending the stairs. Using the back of your hand, you wiped away the lingering moisture in your eyes and then straightened in your seat.

“Skipping my welcome home dinner?” He asked as he approached your little reading nook, a lazy grin and raised eyebrows painted on his face.

You scoffed, careful to keep your journal hidden as you stood up to throw yourself into his open, waiting arms. His wings closed around the two of you and you’re grateful for the extra pressure against your back.

“I missed you too,” he muttered into your hair, pulling your face tight to his chest.

The two of you stood there for a long time; Rhys could always sense when you needed something steady to hold onto. He claims it started before he even knew he had a sister, that sometimes late at night he could hear muffled sobs echoing in the back of his mind. That a gaunt little girl trapped under the mountain haunted his dreams for years before he was allowed to visit.

His father made sure he stayed away.

But as Rhys settled into his powers and got full control of them, he was able to establish a stable connection. It took a while before you trusted him; after all, you grew up with your mother telling you that the High Lord and his heir despised you.

Your sire, as Mother called him, had thrown her under the Mountain as soon as he found out she was pregnant. Set her up with a place to stay and not much else; you had a new stepfather every few years, and each one was worse than the last. The Black Widow, they called her, as her husbands had a habit of dying in unfortunate accidents.

As adults, you and Rhys were closer than most siblings, even those that grew up together. Unfortunately, that meant you had no choice but to get your shit together because running away was not an option.

“Wanna tell me why my General looks like a kicked puppy?” Rhys murmured into your hair. You felt the bond clench, tugging on your heart, and groan against your brother’s chest.

He ran a comforting hand up and down your back and you signed, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to keep what happened a secret for much longer, what with all the meddling busybodies you surrounded yourself with.

“We fought,” you muttered. “I’ve been avoiding him ever since.”

“And what, pray tell, did you fight about?”

You lifted your head, eyes glistening in the low candlelight as you blinked up at your brother. Heaving a sigh, you tell him everything that happened while he was gone. As soon as you opened your mouth, the words spilled out of you like they’d been waiting for the opportunity to escape.

Rhys had to stifle a chuckle when you finished your story because he loved you, but Mother above, you could be so stupid sometimes.

“Oh, Y/N,” he sighed, tugging you closer. He rested his chin on the top of your head and tugged on the ends of your hair with one hand.

You batted it away, groaning again.

“Listen, I’m not going to tell you what to do because I know you hate that,” he started, negating your protests before they had a chance to form. “But I think you need to talk to him. Unless you plan on avoiding him for the rest of your life, you’re going to need to work things out one way or another.”

“I could defect to another Court, I hear Summer’s wonderful this time of year.” Rhys shoved you towards the front of the library, ruffling your hair.

“Talk to him, you insufferable brat.”

—

It was surprisingly easy to find Cassian. He nearly knocked you over with the force of his pacing as you rounded the corner into the hallway leading to the kitchen and dining room.

“Oh, Y/N, hi,” he said, one arm bending to scratch the back of his neck. You could just barely make out a hint of red on the apples of his cheeks, though his tanned skin does a good job of trying to hide it.

“Hey, Cassie,” you said. His name came out breathier than you intended. “I, uh, wanted to apologize.” Cas was quiet, clearly ready to let you say what you needed to say. He leaned against the wall, nodding at you to keep going. After a deep breath, you did. “I’m sorry for being so rude and dramatic. The bond snapped for me a while ago, and I let the pent-up jealousy and bitterness get to me. That wasn’t fair to you, and I’ll try to be better about keeping my thoughts to myself in the future. Just because we’re bonded doesn’t mean you’re obligated to be with me. Whatever you choose, I’ll respect your decision, I promise.”

He smirked, pushed away from the wall, and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving you standing there alone and confused.

A minute later, he was back with a giant cookie clutched in one hand; your favorite. It was a little burnt around the edges, but smells perfect. He closed the distance between the two of you in three long strides, wrapping his free arm around your waist.

“It’s you, it’s always been you, Y/N,” he breathed, leaning in until his lips hovered over yours for a few long, deliciously agonizing seconds before he pushed forward and captured them in a searing kiss.

You respond, startled but thrilled, and get lost in each other. He pulls away and holds the cookie to your lips, and you almost bite into it before remembering where you are then take a step back with your cheeks oozing heat, pushing his hand down to his ease the temptation rising from your core, into your chest, and up your throat. After four years of lying dormant, the bond threatened to take control of your body.

“We should probably go somewhere a bit more.. private,” you say, wrinkling your nose at the thought of someone, Mother forbid your brother, interrupting the frenzy.

Cassian growled. Going to the cottage, he said to Rhys, melting his mental shields down just enough to let the message flow between their minds.

Does this mean..? Rhys’s response is hesitant but hopeful.

Yes, Cassian’s response is gruff. Keep everyone away. I reserve the right to tear any intruders limb from limb.

He shut the connection, cutting Rhys off mid-cackle. His threat was genuine. Even just the idea of the frenzy has him boiling through his skin.

Cas scooped you into his arms and took off running down the hallway. As soon as you burst through the back door, he pushed off and then you were soaring through the sky towards Windhaven.

Towards your future with your mate.

Taglist: @esahintzkanen @loving-and-dreaming @lisanna2000 @jollyflowerkitty @graciepies @evergreenlark @Maewritez @aurorab99 @pescipiccanti @elissanatok @vanserrasimp @mich0731 @juniperberriesaries @sandramalikstyles @ivy-34 @thecraziestcrayon @pey2618

#acotar imagine #acotar headcanon #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian #cassian imagine #cassian imagines #cassian fanfiction #cassian fanfic #cassian acotar #imagine #imagines #angst #imaginesandbandfiction

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historia-vitae-magistras · 2 months ago

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I enjoyed your food and eating habits thoughts for Matt and Alfred as it's a nice little insight into their everyday lifestyle and mannerisms <3 Any thoughts on Arthur "forgets to eat until his stomach growls and his hands shake" Kirkland and Jack and Zee? Or for the UK bros or Francis if that more takes your fancy? <3 Thank you!

Rhys is a really good cook. Bara brith, Welsh rarebit, cawl, laverbread. The man knows what he's about. He's the second youngest in my set up but still a good deal older than Arthur so he grows up in a world where his mother is literally worshipped as a goddess. I put her right smack on the middle of a giant pile of tin which was famously the best and highest quality stuff in a world where it was desperately needed to create bronze. He grows up in stone wheelhouses with defensive towers set inside a ring fort and with that came a correspondingly decent diet. High protein, wealth being often valued less in cash than in cattle. Maman is importing gold from Ireland and wine from southern France and Greek trade goods are found. He suffers a lot of misery and violence as a young adult and that does affect his tastes in food but he never loses sight of the fact it should actually taste good. He's definitely a bit heavy on the pies and stews and he hasn't been able to entirely reconcile himself to the fact that it no longer a bit suspect of people who are wealthy enough to afford meat to not eat meat. The man has opinions on food. Lamb, mutton, leeks, cheese. He can have a conversation about it, okay. And he's very particular about how he enjoys said food. and not to dip too deep into the stereotypes but god fucking bless the Welsh for exporting the leek. The Anglo-Celtic diaspora owe a debt we will never be able to repay for the one goddamn allium that Brits seemed to actually like pre-war. He's definitely someone who's moods will be affected by when he last ate and how the food was and food is a pretty big love language for him. When he's trying to shack up with the neighbors in Brittany or Jersey or Manx the food is definitely an incentive to stay for breakfast.

Arthur for me is really interesting because he knows how to make decent food. He knows what makes food taste decent. He's had a feasting culture his entire fricken existence before 1800. Where you lose him is when trying to convince him food should taste good most if not all of the time. The Roman or perhaps slightly post roman world he's born to and raised in is one where luxury goods are coming in with spices and new vegetables and fruits are being introduced so he's had flavour from the very fucking beginning but still entirely regards it as optional. Food as a pleasure is almost alien in his brain for some reason. Late antiquity wasn't a great time for him but the slingshot extremism between everything has to be flavored with all the spices and um actually, food that tastes good is illegal is just so variable with this one. England is lush and fertile and there's no shortage of food at any point in history worse than the neighbors but you wouldn't fucken know it the way Arthur eats and hates joy. I think his outsized amount of power as an adult contributes to this habit of 'oh I'll just ride the extra battery pack that is being the weird patron saint of a rainy third of Great Britain. Wait, what do you mean I have to season my fucken food? And when that's behind him after WW2, he's increasingly irritated by the fact calories are indeed mandatory to survive. Man's taste buds never recovered from rationing in too many ways. Last 30 years he's kind of slipped towards enjoying food. The man has discovered garlic powder exists at least. Only trouble there is that now he experiments and god have mercy on his loved ones bowels. Plum sauce does not go in the spagbol please and thank you.

Zee is... More like her father than she'd like to admit. She really can be perfectly content with a cheese and marmite toastie and a cup of tea. Or one of her best inventions, instant coffee. She's got higher standards in that she generally prefers her food to be edible which is not something the medieval fucks listed above will always care about. She really really likes the act of eating as a social thing. Hangi made together in a large group, women gathered in the kitchen to make things like whitebait fritters and roasted muttonbird. She almost never ever, even when she is entitled to by one status or another took her food in her room and was always at breakfast in the morning. She always eats with people when she can. Food is almost more of an action or event to her than just personal pleasure. She's got a real weakness for fresh fruit. Just consumes batshit amounts of berries. Looking at her grocery bill is probably very funny because it's like, six items she'll rotate out for a fortnight at a time and then a fucken pile of expensive produce. Extremely fond of fish in general as well. She can cook but if anyone else present wants to take point, fine by her. She's very happy to perch on Jack's kitchen counter/bench and drink his good wine while he cooks. She might be described as slightly picky in some specific aspects especially when seafood is involved but she's really not going to have her entire life derailed because whatever her last meal wasn't great. When she was little, she didn't mind a boiled pudding or porridge for breakfast as long as it wasn't completely god awful. She's fonder of like the classic tea room sweet pastries than she'd like to admit and she's got a serious weakness for weird flavors of chocolate like a buttered toast chocolate bar and pineapple lumps. Food can be a tool of survival to her no problem, even if it's not great as well. Generally, she remembers to eat.

Jack cares a lot about food. In the immortal words of @paperbarks he's got the accent of a gold coast Hoon but the taste buds and pickiness of a Barossa sommelier. He's got that golden Mediterranean-esque climate. Sugar grows, mangos grow, finger limes are everywhere, stone fruit is plentiful. Jack wants food to taste excellent all of the time. That's not to say he's picky as in he's not going to absolutely demolish a meat pie or a chiko roll or douse his fries in chicken salt because he absolutely is but he'll genuinely ponder what wine goes best with that and how to keep Zee from drinking it all before he's even plated up dinner. His moods get absolutely fucking foul when he doesn't eat too. He's the second youngest and generally pretty chill and doesn't take all that much seriously but when he's hungry or something is genuinely shit, no one's having a good time. It was a struggle keeping his ass completely fed when he was young and food was seasonal and gonna suck a good part of the year. By far, he's the person most likely to complain about food in any given time. Also my god he can make a good cup of coffee. Chronic snacker too. All of them have some pretty serious appetites but he's probably up there tied with anyone else.

#the ask box || probis pateo #jack || a land of summer skies #zee || ahakoa he iti he pounamu #rhys || my word for heaven was not yours #arthur || stone set in the silver sea #hws wales #hws england #hws Australia #hws new zealand

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the-widow-olivia · 11 months ago

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Saw that Rhys Darby was going to be in an episode of Night Court, and I got really concerned for any Night Court fans out there who have no idea that there is a flotilla of pirates about to descend on them.

So I made a helpful guide we can give to fans of other shows when OFMD cast members show up.

So your favorite TV show has cast an OFMD actor!

Hello! It's us, the friendly queer pirate crew, here to enjoy your television program alongside you. We don't bite (and even if we do, it usually sets off a hilarious chain of events that ends in a lovely wedding).

You may notice at some point during our time together that one or more OFMD fans will begin foaming at the mouth or melting into the floor as though they have no bones. This is perfectly normal, as all OFMD fans suffer from a severe form of brain rot previously only found in goats.

However, be warned, the following "normal" items may cause ferality in OFMD fans:

- Oranges (petrified or regular)

- The color teal

- The color purple

- The color black

- The color red

- Fuck it, all the colors. We own colors now.

- Goldfish

- Cats

- Seagulls

- Snakes

- Beanies

- Gloves

- Cake (can be combined with oranges)

- Garlic

- Soup

- Garlic soup

- Legs (pronounced "ligs")

- Eyes (“EYEEE!” however, will just make us laugh)

If an OFMD fan becomes a little too feral, you can soothe them by playing Gnossienne No. 5 and putting a blanket over their head until they calm down. Note: Results may vary if said fan is in “clowning” mode.

OFMD fans are a friendly bunch, but we are often socially anxious. Here are a few phrases you can practice at home if you want to befriend an OFMD fan:

“Wow, that Rhys Darby sure has nice legs.”

“That WJW with Con O’Neill got me right in the feels.”

“Our Flag Means Death deserves a third season and all the Emmys.”

Anyhoo, we’re delighted to be here enjoying TV with you, and you are all invited to Calypso’s next birthday. (BYO bathtub)

❤️

The Crew

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd fandom #save ofmd #rhys darby #Ofmd fans #ofmd brainrot #con o'neill #polite menacing until the end of time

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asgoodeasgold · 7 months ago

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"This is gonna blow your knickers off"

(Trigger warning: if you are Italian, look away now!). When Matthew cooked a bolognese ragù with Ketchup and Oxo cubes 😱 (and other non-authentic items like garlic and herbs) to the dismay of the Italian ladies watching him and Matthew Rhys compete.

Their gasps of horror and disapproving looks every time an unconventional ingredient went in were hilarious. Verdict: "this is interesting" (but not Italian 🤣). Absolutely hilarious (and also very sweet, Matthew was cooking his mama's recipe 🥹). And as usual, the two Matthews were uproarious.

I love a goode bromance

Okaaay, we are in for a treat 🤣

These two are so 💝

If you think tomato paste is shocking, brace yourself

I think that's enough to get you thrown into jail in Italy.

That's called "adding insult to injury."

I think the wine is supposed to go in the sauce Goodey.

They are being polite. But I am sure they love you, you charming, crazy man.

Yeah, may be you are not wrong... or at the very least forever banned from setting foot in Italy.

I wonder why that could be 🤔

You think Rhyssy?

Ah yes, it was the wrong kind of ketchup 🤦🏻‍♀️

Some pics (adorable)

📷 The Wine Show (2016) s1:08 my edits

#matthew goode #matthewgoode #matthew rhys #the wine show #bologna #italian cooking

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ailoda · 29 days ago

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10 things for 10 people you'd like to know better

last song: dtmf - bad bunny

last book: i think it was either wild sargasso sea by jean rhys or a welsh book called blasu by manon steffan ros.

last movie: a difficult one - it’s been so long! i think my last movie was home alone at christmas time🎄

last tv show: difficult to say as i tend to mix between a few at a time, especially if i’ve watched them more than once. currently, the rotation is a mix of downton abbey, bloodhounds (korean series), hidden love (chinese series), mr. plankton (korean series), and derry girls. a lot, i know, but my brain needs the variety!

sweet/savory/spicy: definitely a big savoury person, but i lean a bit sweet depending on the time of the month or if i’m sad.

relationship status: very much single and very much happy about it, save for the lack of physical affection (someone just gimme a hug lie on me to make me feel something).

last thing i googled: nhs job vacancies

current obsession: creamy garlic mushrooms, dairylea dunkers, below deck, bad bunny’s new album, nesting (basically where i add a load of throws and blankets to my bed and make a cocoon, all wrapped up warm like a cozy slug, and watch / read).

looking forward to: my weighted blanket delivery sometime this week, and the creamy garlic mushroom and chicken pasta i’m going to make tomorrow (and the rest of the meals i’ve planned for this week).

Thank you for tagging me, @sometimesanalice! So much love to you, forever and always, my darling <3

No pressure tags! (so sorry if you’re not interested / have already done this): @crescenthistory @agreeeeeeeeeee @aquaticmercy @mugglebornmarvelite @reysdriver @fayes-fics

#ailoda’s friends #tag chain #tag game

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theladyofbloodshed · 1 year ago

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Hey if you’re taking prompts would you do Nesta finally telling Cassian about Tomas and him comforting her?

To kill two birds with one stone... Nessian snippet. TW for sexual assault.

...

‘You could try being nicer.’

One word. Three letters. Try. Hadn’t she tried enough?

Cassian shrugged. ‘I’m just saying they’re used to their females being meek and looking at the ground rather than staring directly in their eyes. You don’t have to be their friends, just be a bit nicer and don’t take everything they say as an insult.’

That familiar flare of her nostrils came as her knife sliced through a tomato for dinner. ‘I’m sorry aren’t these the same males you said you wished you could push off a cliff?’

‘That was last week. Now, we are in Illyria playing peacemakers so be nice.’

‘I was nice to somebody once who didn’t deserve it. Never again, Cassian.’

The grating tone of her voice had Cassian pausing from peeling cloves of garlic. He glanced sidelong at her, worry furrowing his dark brow.

‘Who?’

Nesta pushed the tomatoes to the edge of the chopping board then attacked the onion with more force than it warranted. ‘Are you asking me for a list of people that I’ve ever been nice to?’

‘No. I’m asking who has made you clench that knife so hard that your knuckles are white.’

Suddenly, Cassian wasn’t her mate anymore. They weren’t in an isolated cabin in Illyria with only the wild, rugged nature for company. She was a mortal receiving a faerie general in her bedroom, waiting expectantly for a letter from her estranged sister. Cassian had crossed the room that day and she had dared to brush her body against his, to press her hand against his chest. Then the memory of Tomas had threatened to drown her and Cassian – somehow – had recognised that brief moment of blind fear. He had held her wrist to his body, demanding to know who had caused that terror to flare behind her eyes. Cassian hadn’t even known her then. But he’d have found Tomas and made him pay.

‘I’m not hungry,’ she declared, releasing the knife and leaving Cassian to prepare a dinner alone.

It took Cassian all of three minutes to follow her up the stairs, move her away from the dresser, and sit her on the edge of the bed. It groaned under his heavy weight as he settled beside her.

‘We’ve had this conversation many times, Nes. You need to open the door, not shut me out.’

‘Why do you care?’

‘Because you know more about my five hundred years than I know about your twenty.’ His knuckles grazed her cheek. ‘Were you talking about Rhys?’

‘My life doesn’t resolve around Rhysand.’

She tried to stand, but Cassian slunk his arm around her waist, pinning her. ‘Tell me.’

‘It was my fault,’ she said, voice as brittle as she felt. ‘I was nice to him. And look where it got me.’

‘Who?’

She forced a breath out from between her pursed lips. It was a wound she’d avoided looking at, even when it ached and pulsed.

‘Why do you still hide from me? You’ve been my mate for a year. Why do you think I won’t support you?’

Nesta couldn’t look at the kindness in his eyes. She still struggled with these declarations because Cassian was always genuine. He would always give rather than take. Her fingers edged closer to his then tangled with them.

‘A boy from the village. There were no options for girls like us – poor girls with no dowry. I was beautiful and untouched but that was all I had to offer. Tomas was poor too. Not as bad as we were, but not rich by any means – not like Graysen. Feyre warned me off of him but then she left.’

Then it fell to Nesta to figure out a way to feed her and Elain’s starving bellies. If she had known that Tamlin would have sent a treasury of gems and jewels, Nesta never would have been nice to Tomas.

‘He hunted like Feyre in the woods. After she’d gone, he caught up with me once and offered to walk me home. I would have said no. I never let boys walk me home. But he had two pheasants hanging in his hand and we were starving. So I was nice to him. I smiled at everything he said, batted my eyelashes when he complimented me, and told him at the end I’d hope to see him again.’ Nesta let out a low laugh. ‘The next day, he brought me a dead pheasant. What a catch.’

Cassian shrugged his shoulders. ‘You did what you needed to so that you were both fed. It’s not the end of the world.’

‘Tomas continued to court me - small walks so I wouldn’t be sequestered in that awful cottage with my father. His mother was often bruised, but I hoped that Tomas was not like his father. If I married him and left then maybe father would do something to feed his precious Elain and I would have a husband to take care of me. But Tomas could speak cruelly about other villagers. He would laugh at the elderly when they struggled, would sneer at the poorest children. I don’t know if he thought it would impress me.’

The walks became insufferable. She began to dread the knock at the door. Any other man would have spoken to her father to gain his permission, would have been polite, would have ensured they had an escort. Any decent or proper man would have.

The more time that they spent in each other’s company, the more Nesta despised him. She had to listen to his insufferable arrogance in exchange for a lump of stringy meat. Had to listen to him talk about the other girls in the village as if he was comparing cattle. It became apparent that, rather than being his father’s opposite, he was moulding Tomas into something worse than him.

Then he had tried to kiss Nesta.

He’d grabbed her suddenly at the edge of the narrow path leading to their cottage.

It had happened so quickly that Nesta barely had enough time to swoop her head upwards. Tomas’ lips had clattered against her jaw. The flush on her face had not been from modesty but sheer mortification that Tomas would dare to grab her like a possession and stake a claim on her without proper courting or permission. Nesta had feigned shyness, but had seethed that night in bed beside Elain. She had barely slept through anger.

‘I was nice to him, Cassian, and do you know what he did?’

Nesta remembered her mother’s teachings. Always smile and agree with what the men say. Never show anger because a man can always match it and then some. Be palatable. Be agreeable. Be nothing at all - except his.

In the square, where it was quiet but visible, Nesta spoke clearly to Tomas that day. She no longer wanted to spend time with him. There was no dowry to be offered therefore no marriage to occur. It was unfair of her to take his time when a future was impossible. It was the nicest way she could think of that wouldn’t invoke anger. What Nesta had wanted to say was that he was arrogant and rude, and any woman that was forced to spend another moment in his company had likely been cursed. Tomas had taken it well. He’d agreed, dipped his chin and agreed. In fact, when Nesta looked back, it had been too agreeable. Too unlike Tomas Mandray.

He'd emerged that afternoon from the woods like a beast. Nesta had jumped out of her skin. But she had seen the anger in his eyes.

‘Our cottage veered off from the others. It was isolated from anybody else. Tomas knew that.’

Cassian’s fists clenched.

‘Tomas called me a stupid slut who deserved everything I got for leading him on then he dragged me into the forest.’

When they’d been in the war and she’d first heard the healers ripping cloth for bandages, her heart had felt like it was caving in as she remembered the way Tomas’ hands had clawed at her dress, tearing the ribbons clean off and splitting the gown at its seams. It had exposed her chest and the worn chemise below.

‘I managed to get away from him. I wasn’t nice then.’

Only blind terror had helped her navigate that situation. Negotiation was not an option. No niceness would have got her through it. Nesta had scratched and kicked even as Tomas pressed her against tree roots. He bruised the inside of her thighs trying to pin her with his knees. When her forehead made contact with his nose, the sudden burst of his blood on her face gave them pause. It was enough for Nesta to raise her knee with enough force to have him double over, wheezing. She’d run home, blood on her ruined gown. Elain was out. Father paid her no attention even as she threw the gown on the fire. They only had five dresses between them but that one needed to burn.

Nesta massaged her face. ‘I will not be nice to males anymore to please them. I will not be nice because it makes their lives easier if I am. Because the last time I was nice to a boy, look what happened. If I hadn’t been nice then I never would have put myself in that silly situation. I should have known better.’

Like a petal in the sun, Cassian unfurled his fingers from the fists they’d been balled into. Gently, he took both of her hands. The warmth of his skin was always welcome. Always comforting.

‘Nes, none of that was your fault. It was all him. Don’t ever blame yourself for somebody else’s actions. It’s easy to wish you’d done things different with hindsight. You could have been horrid to him and he still might have done it. It wasn’t your niceness that made him do that. He did it because he’s an animal.’ Cassian leaned forwards and kissed her forehead. ‘Now tell me where I can find him because I’d like to peel every inch of skin from his bones.’

When Cassian wrapped an arm around her shoulders, she sunk into her mate’s embrace. These arms were home. She wouldn’t tell him where Tomas could be found because nobody deserved the sort of pain that Cassian’s eyes promised.

‘I’m sorry that I asked you to be nicer to the males. It’s not on you to change to suit them.’

Nesta nodded in agreement. She was nice, when she wanted to be, to those who deserved it. Not males who wanted to keep her submissive.

‘I’m sorry that you had to go through that as a mortal. You should never have had to experience these things, Nes. I promise, as your mate and a bastard-born lesser fae, to always protect you. And I’ll never ask you to be nice again.’

‘Thank you.’

‘And to show you how nice I can be, read your book. I’ll cook.’

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #tomas mandray

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simslegacy5083 · 3 months ago

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Today's (11/12/2024) Episode: Prank Day Potluck

“This potluck is such a delight” Luigi lied, wishing he had stuck to the plates he had prepared himself earlier. He didn’t want to hurt his friend’s feelings, especially when he knew the issue was less their dishes and more his very high culinary expectations.

Skye was glad no one was asking him about his meal. The bangers and mash Isra had made had looked quite tasty, but something about the combination of greasy sausage and fluffy potato really weren’t doing his tummy any favors.

Once everyone was finished eating, they broke into small groups to catch up with each other and enjoy some fun in the sun.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better.” Skye told Bruce as he and Elyse sat with the other kids, “My dad said you got hurt pretty bad at the trials.”

“Tales of my downfall were greatly exaggerated” the teen quickly replied. Elyse, who shared classes with Bruce at Copperdale and had seen him hobbling around after he’d been cleared by his doctor to return rolled her eyes but didn’t comment.

“Anyway” Bruce continued “the trials were stupid, but I heard a wild story there. Did you know that stargazing can get you abducted? This guy I met heard it from a guy whose cousin works at the science lab.” Skye listened, rapt. Who knew using a telescope could be so dangerous!?

“I can’t believe Skye is almost a teenager!” Noemi lamented to her girlfriends “I swear some days it seems like only yesterday I was waddling around the university, feeling as big as a house, wishing the desks were bigger and my classes were closer together!”

Breanne laughed. “The teen years will fly by too, believe me. It seems like only yesterday my oldest girl Bailey was dating the captain of the chess team, and now she’s married and expecting her second little one.” “Congratulations!” the others chorused.

“So, do you want to host Skye’s birthday party at our place again?” Isra asked. “Thanks” Noemi replied “but Luigi and I are planning to take him on one last trip with just the three of us. Once he ages up, I’m not sure when we’ll get to see him again without making an appointment with Elyse first.” Isra chuckled “So you say, yet I seem to recall both our kids spent all morning at your house!”

“Sheesh, someone needs to lay off the garlic noodles!” Beau complained, holding his nose while waving his hand in Luigi’s direction.

“What!? That wasn’t me!” Luigi protested before his friend started laughing uproariously “Gotcha!” “Argh, I should have known! I’ll get you back for that, just you wait” Luigi told him as the men enjoyed a game of cards.

“Hey, when will you have that Cyberworld item from the Expansion Pack ready for us try out?” Rhys asked, tactfully changing the subject. “I can’t wait to battle myself in the game!” Beau agreed, adding with a grin: “and I can’t wait to have another way to kick both your butts! Seriously man, let’s test it!”

“Soon” Luigi promised “we’re still working out some kinks in the interface. Creating a virtual world within a virtual world turned out to be significantly more difficult than it seemed; but I just know its going to be awesome when we get it right.”

“Thanks for agreeing to help with the motion capture and voice your NPCs.” he continued, before turning back to Beau “I think the new candle making hobby is going to go over well too. I don’t know how Breanne does it all day, my fingers were sore for hours after my visit!”

“My wife is a pro” Beau smiled proudly “only noobs like your highness get singed every 5 minutes!” he laughed “Honestly though, thank you for thinking of her. She was thrilled to participate and having the official hobby lot in the game be modeled after her shop was very flattering.”

After a few more hours talking, pranking, and enjoying some snorkeling and deep-sea diving in the waters surrounding the bungalow Luigi and his family said their goodbyes and headed home, happy to have spent a wonderful day enjoying one of their favorite holidays with some of their favorite sims.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

#sims 4 #sims 4 challenge #sims4 #sims 4 nsb #sims 4 legacy #sims 4 not so berry #sims4nsbstraud #sims 4 let's play #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 lets play

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theladyofdeath · 2 years ago

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Better or Worse {Chapter Two}

Nessian. Angst. Modern au.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for all who read chapter 1! I've been so pumped to share this one with you all. We hope you enjoy it...even the sad parts.

Warnings: depictions of child loss, language.

~Nesta~

“The last six chapters…” my editor sighs, and I know that I’m not going to like what’s coming next. “They lack depth. I feel like they’re just words on a page, there’s no real meaning there. I mean, there’s hardly any sex once they make up and I hate to be the one to tell you this, but that’s kind of what you’re known for.”

I roll my eyes at her sarcasm, even though she can’t see my face. I tuck my phone between my ear and shoulder as I shut my laptop and pick up my empty water glass. “So what. Rewrite with more fucking?”

“Rewrite with emotion,” she explains, as I leave my home office and go downstairs. I need a break from the screen. The second I got home from my office in the city, I instantly went upstairs and tucked myself away.

“Fine,” I sigh, entering the kitchen. “When do you want rewrites by?”

My list of rewrites is growing. I had barely made this deadline. My anxiety only grows as she says, “Can you have them to me by Monday?”

“Monday?” I ask, exasperated. “Are you kidding me?”

“We have to get this to the publisher soon. We’re running out of time, Nesta.”

I lean against the counter, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Alright. Yeah. Fine. Monday.” I hear the garage door open and quickly say, before she can give me any more bad news, “I have to go. Talk to you soon.”

I hang up just before the door opens and Nyx comes barreling in, his smile wide and his backpack massive on his little, four-year-old frame.

“Aunt Nesta!”

My anxiety lessens just a little bit as he runs into my open arms and I swing him around, peppering his cheeks with kisses. “Hi, my boy. Oh, I’ve missed you.”

He takes my face into his hands and whispers, “Uncle Cass got me a milkshake. Chocolate.”

“I’m so jealous,” I whisper back, and set him down.

We’ve picked Nyx up from preschool every other Tuesday since he started a year ago. We swap every other week with Azriel and Elain, since Tuesdays are the one day that Rhys and Feyre’s work schedules clash. I cherish the time with my nephew — he’s growing way too fast.

Cassian steps through the door a minute later, holding a bag of groceries and what looks like a half empty milkshake.

“Hey,” he says, not even looking at me.

“Hey,” I reply, quietly. We’ve hardly spoken a word to each other in days.

I was home before he was on the night he wanted to cook me dinner. I was in bed before he was, too. I don’t remember the last time either of those things happened. The white flag I’d brought home in the form of a chocolate pie had long since been put in the fridge and forgotten and my feelings of mediation had been replaced with frustration at the late hour. When he got in bed and smelled like a frat house, I pretended to be asleep, stewing in my anger and sudden sense of resentment towards my husband, rather than snapping at him like I wanted to.

He was awake and gone before I even woke up the next morning.

“I got a couple of steaks and potatoes. Nyx loves the garlic mashed potatoes at the restaurant—” When he looks over his shoulder at my expression, his words fade away. “What?”

“I ordered pizza,” I say, slowly.

His body tenses, as I expected it would, and he starts putting everything he got from the grocery store into the refrigerator with a little too much force.

“Go ahead and cook,” I say, trying to ease the tension, for Nyx’s sake. “We can put the pizza in the fridge and reheat it tomorrow—”

“It’s fine.” I know that tone. It’s final.

Giving up on the conversation and letting Cassian stew in his anger, I turn to Nyx with a smile. “Why don’t you go put your backpack and your shoes by the front door, buddy?”

He looks between us before nodding and exiting the room.

“I’m sorry,” I start, carefully, when Nyx is out of the room. “I was just trying to make quick dinner plans.”

“It’s fine,” he says, closing the refrigerator door. “I should’ve called first.”

“Cass—”

“Let’s just pretend while Nyx’s here, alright?” He turns to face me, those broad, inked arms crossed.

I lift a brow. “Pretend?”

“Yeah, pretend,” he says, voice low. I hate the look in his eyes, hate the distance that’s between us. “Pretend to be happy, or whatever. Pizza is great.”

Before I can say anything more, he leaves the room. A second later, I hear Nyx’s giggling as he’s tossed over his uncle’s shoulder.

Pretend.

I hate that we have to pretend, hate that we don’t know how to simply be happy anymore. I hate that he didn’t expect to have a pleasant conversation with me, that his body tensed so quickly, that he couldn’t wait to get out of the room. At least I’m home and not at the office, or working upstairs. Even though I have a deadline to meet in less than a week.

I don’t leave the kitchen until I hear the doorbell ring a few minutes later. I meet the pizza delivery boy on the porch and pay for our extra large meat lovers pizza and breadsticks before bringing it back to the kitchen and distributing it onto plates.

The only thing that brings a smile to my face is Nyx coming into the room, thinking that a pizza night in is the best thing ever.

The three of us sit at the kitchen table and eat. At first, Nyx is the only one saying anything, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Cassian keeps glancing at me. I can feel his eyes, but fear returning his fleeting looks.

“Aunt Nesta?”

I blink, realizing that with the way Nyx is staring at me, he must have asked me a question and I completely missed it. I glance at Cassian to see if he’ll give me any assistance but his expression is…pained.

“I’m sorry, buddy, I didn’t hear you,” I say, painting a smile on my face.

Cassian clears his throat. “Nyx, why don’t you tell Aunt Nesta what color you worked on at school today?” From the tone of his voice, it’s clear that he hadn’t asked me about the color of the day.

“When are you and Uncle Cass gonna get me a baby to play with?”

My nephew’s big blue eyes gaze at me, full of curiosity and innocence, just like he is.

His question burns through me though, right to the core, and suddenly, I feel hollow.

Barren.

Empty.

“Aunt Lainy is getting me a baby, that’s what daddy said.” He picks up his pizza with both hands, tearing into it like a wild animal. “And that’s why her tummy is getting big. When are you getting a baby?”

I close my eyes and for a second, all I can see is blood. Blood staining bed sheets and a white, clinical examining room. Tears, and not just mine.

Fear and devastation and heartache and—

Fingertips graze my leg under the table and my eyes snap open, finding Nyx laughing at something Cassian had said. His own smile matches Nyx’s, but it’s strained, his eyes meeting mine for a brief second.

I have no idea what he’d said to derail our nephew’s curiosity, but I suddenly can’t pretend everything is alright at this moment.

Standing quickly, I pick up my plate and mumble, “I’ll be right back,” before heading for the small bathroom off the living room.

My breathing has quickened but I close my eyes and focus on breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth as I grip the porcelain countertop. I convince the tears not to come — something I’m an expert of at this point in my life — and wait until my breathing is under control before I open my eyes and meet my reflection in the mirror. I can still hear Nyx’s giggles from the kitchen, and I silently thank my husband for doing what he does best…being the world’s best uncle and most obnoxious distraction.

My reflection nearly make my tears start again.

The circles beneath my eyes are dark and my eyes are distant, bloodshot. I’ve lost weight recently, I can tell, and not the good kind. There’s nothing healthy about my pale skin and the way my collarbone is perfectly on display all of the sudden. After spending so many hours working, I haven’t been the best about taking time to eat and maintain my diet, my exercise. I can’t remember the last time I had gone to yoga or done any other sort of physical activity. I haven’t been taking care of myself.

I haven’t been taking care of my husband, either.

I know it. He knows it. We all know it, and we’re dancing around it, just like we dance around everything, but I can’t help it. I have worked hard for my career, and my obsessive mind is controlled by gaining success.

A soft knock comes to the bathroom door. I clear my throat. “Yeah?”

Cassian’s soft voice comes through the other side. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” I lie. “Be out in a sec.”

“Okay.” There’s a beat of silence. “Feyre’s on her way.”

I take a few more deep breaths as his footsteps vanish down the hall, then I’m opening the door and going back to the living room, like nothing is wrong.

Dinner is apparently over, the plates and pizza box cleaned off the kitchen table and leftovers stored away in the fridge. Bluey is playing on the television in the corner and Nyx is hanging over the arm of the couch, watching intently.

Something brushes along my arm and I jump, swearing under my breath as I move away, as if I’d been burned.

Cassian is standing there, his hand still outstretched, something like hurt written across his face. “Really, Nes?”

“You scared me.” I’m snapping, I have absolutely no reason to snap but my emotions are rubbed raw and I feel like I have no control over them or myself. “You snuck up on me.”

His eyes, already so different from the way they used to look at me, harden as he pulls away. “I was just making sure you were okay—”

“I told you I was fine.”

He nods, face like granite, turning away from me and heading into the living room. Without a word, he scoops up Nyx and plops down onto the couch, settling in to watch his show.

I stay put, staring at the two of them. They’re so cute, so comfortable…yet, I feel like I’m a shadow, watching from a distance. An outsider in my own home.

Guilt sweeps over me, but it’s subdued. Every emotion I feel has been diminished, numbed. I debate on joining them, on sitting beside them on the couch, joining them in their peace. But in my state of numbness, I know I would be of no good to them. I go back into the kitchen and find an unopened bottle of wine. After pulling free the cork, I pour myself a glass. Just before the rim touches my lips, the doorbell rings.

I hurry to the door before Cassian can get up off the couch and welcome my youngest sister inside. She smiles at her one and only child before greeting me, wrapping me in her arms.

“I feel like we haven’t talked in forever,” she says, before picking Nyx’s backpack up off the ground. “We need to get together soon. Me, you, Lainy.”

“Agreed,” I smile. At least, I smile the best that I can. “Do you want to stay for a while? Or…”

“No, that’s okay. Rhys will be home soon, and it’s almost little man’s bedtime.” As if on cue, Nyx runs into Feyre’s arms.

“Mommy! I had a milkshake and pizza!” he yells, giddily. “Can we get ice cream?”

Feyre laughs quietly and I smile, just as Cassian approaches and gives my sister a hug. “I don’t think so, buddy,” Feyre says, calmly. “Shoes, then let’s go. Come on.”

Nyx groans but does as he's asked.

“Was he good?” Feyre looks from me to Cassian.

“An angel,” Cassian says, smiling. I guess he would know more so than me. “As always.”

“Good,” she grins, and gives Cassian one last hug. After giving me a kiss on the cheek, she scoops Nyx into her arms. “Sunday, come over for lunch. Yeah?”

“Sounds good,” I say, mustering the best smile I can. We tell them both goodbye and then it’s just the two of us, standing in silence.

We used to never have uncomfortable silences, but now here we are… the tension so thick that we can cut it with a knife.

I go to take a step back into the kitchen, but Cassian blocks my path. “Do you wanna talk about it now?”

“No.” The word is short, but adamant.

Cassian, the stubborn bastard he is, isn’t accepting that answer. “Nesta, we should talk.”

“I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Know what? I don’t care what you want. I want to talk, we’re talking.”

My jaw locks but I don’t try to move again. Fine. He wants to talk, we’ll talk. “What do we have to talk about?”

Cassian takes a deep breath. “At dinner—”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“We have to.”

“No, we don’t!” I yell, my fists tightening at my sides. “We don’t have to talk about anything I don’t want to talk about. You can’t make me talk about shit that I don’t want to talk about, Cassian.”

I can see the fury in his eyes, can sense how infuriated he is by the tension of his shoulders, but he doesn’t act on it. He simply says, as calmly as he can, “Nesta, please.”

“No,” I say, and now my hands are shaking. “I’m going to bed.”

“You never go to bed this early.”

“Fine. I’m going to write.”

I take one step, and that's all it takes. He explodes. “Damn it, Nesta! Talk to me!”

I don’t flinch. In order to flinch, you have to feel something, but I feel nothing. I meet Cassian’s crazed, desperate stare. “I don’t want to talk about dinner.”

“Then talk to me about something,” he begs, pleads. “Because I feel like we haven’t had a genuine conversation in months.”

“That’s not true.”

“It isn’t?” he asks, and I can tell he’s constraining himself. “Because I can’t recall a time when we weren’t snapping at one another, or your tone isn’t begging me to back the fuck off and mind my own business.” I open my mouth to reply, but he keeps going. “I can’t even ask if my wife is okay, because she doesn’t fucking respond, she just says she’s fine when she’s clearly not. Do you know how frustrating that is?”

I swallow, looking away from him.

I’m not fine. Not even close.

But he doesn’t know that. He can’t, nobody can.

I turn and continue heading for the stairs.

“I can’t do this anymore, Nes.”

The words are so quiet that I’m not quite sure if I hear him right. Turning around to look back at him, I see his eyes are on the floor. “You can’t do what?”

“This,” he says, gesturing between us. There’s something in his hazel eyes I don’t usually see there. “This pretending that we’re doing. I’m done with it.”

“What is with you and pretending?” I demand, finally snapping, my voice raising.

His jaw locks, and a fire I don’t usually see has enveloped his eyes. “Me and pretending…” He shakes his head. “Nesta, that’s all we’ve been doing. Nothing between us has been real in a long time.”

I swallow. “What the hell are you talking about?”

I know what he’s talking about. Every word from his mouth makes perfect sense. I would never admit it, though. “I’m done,” he says, shaking his head.

I swallow. “The hell are you talking about?”

“A divorce,” he spits. “I want a divorce.”

A divorce.The words haunt me. They don’t register, don’t settle. “What?”

“I think we should separate,” he says, calmly, even though he looks anything but calm.

I try to make sense of his words, try to understand where he’s coming from, but I can’t. “What?” I repeat, a little more strongly.

Cassian’s eyes drift from mine as he looks at the floor. “This isn’t working, Nesta. Me. You. It’s not working.”

“Are you…” My words fall off as I shake my head. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“No,” he begins, eyes on me. “No, I’m not fucking kidding you. Nesta, I don’t even know who you are anymore. Shit, I don’t even know who I am anymore. I don’t know what the hell we’re doing here, and I’m starting to think that it’s not worth it.”

“You don’t mean that,” I bite out. My chest is heaving. I might be hyperventilating, but I can’t focus on my body. Only his words. I repeat, through gritted teeth, “You don’t mean that.”

Cassian doesn’t reply, just heads to the coat closet off the living room, reaching inside and pulling out—

“You’re leaving?” I breathe, watching as he slings the duffel bag over his shoulder.

His voice is quiet, but he won’t look at me. “I think it would be best.”

He starts to leave, is heading for the kitchen, and to the garage where his truck waits.

He’d had a bag packed.

He’d planned this.

He’s serious.

“You promised!” My scream surprises even me, but Cassian freezes in the middle of the kitchen. He doesn’t turn to face me, but he pauses. I don’t waste my opportunity. “You promised, Cassian, through better or worse, that you would be here.”

Glancing over his shoulder, his eyes connect with mine, and then he speaks the words that I swear are aimed at my soul. “So did you.” He stands there for only a few more heartbeats before he turns and continues heading for the door.

As it opens and closes, I stay put, listening as the garage door does the same. When all is quiet, I wait, hoping he’d change his mind, that the door leading to the garage would open back up and he’d come back in and say this was all a stupid prank.

But he doesn’t.

And as I sink to my knees, I know that I’m the only one to blame.

#nessian #modern au #snacmc collabs #snacmc collab #nesta #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #nesta x cassian #cassian x nesta #nessian better or worse

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glitchcitygang · 9 months ago

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[IMAGE CORRUPTED, SENDING ID: Rhys is currently on top of his KlingKlang, floating above the glitched ocean of Glitch City, and attempting to fish Lyra out of the 'water'. Garlic the Bulbasuar is also resting on top of Rhys's head, not making things easier but doing its best to provide moral support. Ketsuban himself is floating nearby as well, but only a small part of him is in frame due to his sheer size. Cara, Glitchy, and Polar can be seen in the corners and edges of the foreground as the picture was taken on the shoreline.]

We sent the most normal looking one out to save her. I personally think it was a mistake.

#s!3v3n.txt #glitchy.txt #rhys_blank.txt #polar_blank.txt #rotomblr #pkmn irl

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ofmdrecaps · 7 months ago

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07/18-19/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Rhys & Rosie; Samba Schutte; David Jenkins; Taika Waititi; #FirstMateFriday: Con O'Neill; Vico Ortiz; Linds Cantrell; Alex Sherman & Alyssa Lane; Kristian Nairn; Rachel House; Erroll Shand; Jes Tom; WBD Status; ; Fan Spotlight: Cast Cards; Stede & Ed; Our Flag Means Fanfiction; Love Notes ; Daily Darby / Today's Taika;

Hey crew, sorry for the delay. I was going to finish yesterday's recap this morning, and then my draft got nuked again due to my computer crashing, so yeah two day it is!

== Rhys & Rosie ==

Rhys and Rosie are out at the AllBlacks Rubgy game! They're super excited for AoNZ vs Fiji!

Source: Rhys & Rosie's Instagram Stories

== Samba Schutte ==

So some of the news that came out of Florida Supercon last weekend was Samba revealed in a panel that there was supposed to be an official OFMD Podcast and it was in the works until WBD said they "ran out of money". You can read the Full Article here

== David Jenkins ==

Chaos dad came out and had some commentary as well regarding it-- and Samba had more to add.

Source: David Jenkins' Twitter

== Taika Waititi ==

Taika out and about!

Source: Rosie Matheson's Instagram

Annnd Taika just being goofy!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by i Licaoni Digital Studio (@i_licaoni)

instagram

Source: i_licaoni's Instagram

The associated Press released another interview with Taika and Jemaine!

youtube

and yet ANOTHER interview with Taika and Jemaine, this time with Brad Gilmore!

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Brad Gilmore (@bradgilmore)

instagram

Source: Brad Gilmore's Instagram

== First Mate Friday: Con O'Neill ==

There's a new trend this week! Folks on twitter have started up #FirstMateFriday in honor of Con O'Neill! There are so very many lovely tributes to him! I was only able to fit a few in, but they're all beautiful, and full of so much heartfelt love, and I'm sure he is out there basking in it all right now! Thank you to everyone who sent him some love today (and thank you to the lovely folks below for letting me share them!) Also, special thanks to RudestFish on twitter for coming up with this love fest for Con!

Source: RudestFish's Twitter

Source: lividturkeys Twitter

Source: wndrngnomad's Twitter

Source: 1chloreen1's Twitter

Source: Tayleafy's Twitter

== Alex Sherman and Alyssa Lane ==

Our beloved writers/co-producers Alex and Alyssa were out in Mexico City! So nice to see them out and having fun again!

Source: Alex Sherman's Instagram

Alex also popped in to appreciate our darling @fidisart on twitter!

Source: Fidisart's Twitter

== Long Post is Long, Lots under the Cut ==

== Vico Ortiz ==

Vico wants to wish everyone a Happy #NonMonogamyVisibility Week! They shared a lot about their history with polyamory and lots of Garlic Soup on their Instagram Stories as well!

Source: Vico's Instagram

== Linds Cantrell ==

Lindsey Cantrell is the biggest sweetheart by the way and she's been so happy to be interacting with everyone in the OFMD community-- it was just nice to see her feeling included and loved (she shared this on her IG Story). If you don't already follow her on IG, please do, she always has super cool stuff to share, even if it's not OFMD related. <3

Source: Linds Cantrell's Instagram

== Rachel House ==

Rachel was out seeing Bob Tidicue!

Source: Rachel House's Instagram Stories

== Erroll Shand ==

New Episode yesterday of The Twelve on Binge!

Source: Binge's Instagram

== Jes Tom ==

Jes was featured on the "GOOD BOYS" Podcast: Episode 2: Model Behavior! Wanna listen in? You can check out their linktree.

Source: For Them's Instagram

Some photos from Jes' recent comedy show with Tessa Skara: Corporate Pride.

Source: TessaFuckinSkara's Instagram

== Kristian Nairn ==

Kristian is the special guest at Van Love Fest in Elvington Airfield, York!

Source: Kristian Nairn's Instagram

== WBD News ==

So many of our crewmates on twitter have been highlighting some big news with WBD. It sounds like they may actually be doing a split in the upcoming future. Lot of articles below with more info.

Warner Bros Discovery drafts break-up plan

Warner Bros. Discovery might split itself into two pieces

Cord Cutting Today Warner Bros. Discovery Selling Max? Here is What We Know

Why Warner Bros. Discovery Stock Jumped 15% This Week

David Zaslav's Come To Jesus Moment

Sources: Meowzawowza, Never Left Podcast, Ashley (seven_sugars), MrButtons294 on Twitter

== Trends ==

Always nice to see!

Source: Never Left Podcast's Twitter

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Cast Cards =

Naureemum S. was another one of the stand-ins in OFMD according to https://ofmd-crew.com/ - Thank you to @melvisik for giving her a spotlight!

Source: @melvisik's Twitter

== Our Flag Means Fanfiction ==

Are you going to be at San Diego Comic Con on July 25-28? Well keep an eye out for these free bookmarks from Our Flag Means Fanfiction!

Source: Our Flag Means Fanfiction Instagram

== Love Notes ==

Hey there lovelies! I hope the end to your week was good to you! A lots happened in the last 48 hrs, and I apologize I'm so late sharing some of it. Please let me know if I missed anything! I love how much people are really stepping up the love for cast members after all the Emmy stuff that went down. I see everyone just aggressively (I say affectionatly) loving so many of them and it's so heart-warming and uplifting. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, but your love and kindness is so incredibly impactful. You may never get to see the fruits of your love (although the cast and crew does tend to show us they hear us) but know that every little bit builds up. Maybe someone was having a bad day, and seeing how much we love them gave them that extra boost to get through it-- you never know! There is an old greek proverb: "A society grows great when [folks] plant trees whose shade they know they shall never sit in."

That is really true about kindness and support and love too. You are sowing the seeds and roots of a better tomorrow, even if you yourself never get to see the branches and fruit that love produces.

Never let the harshness of the world dim your light lovelies. Your kindness and love moves mountains tiny bits at a time.

I hope you all have a wonderful, fairly uneventful weekend (unless you want it to be eventful!) and get some good rest <3

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

There is no theme tonight! Just Rhys being ridiculously hot, and Meow blessing us with this adorable Taika smile. Happy belated Meow Day! Rhys Gif by @ofmd-ann and Taika Gif by @blakbonnet!

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tswaney17 · 2 months ago

Note

As this year brings to a close, what were some of your highlights of 2024?

A favorite book you read?

A favorite thing you tried?

Favorite food or snack? Or drink?

Favorite thing about the winter and holidays?

Favorite scent?

Favorite flower?

Favorite cold weather item?

Something you were obsessed with? Something you will never forget?

Feel free to answer or not answer these questions in particular, or please include anything else as you’d like!

❤️ your Secret Santa

Hello Secret Santa!! 😍

I'm going to pre-apologize because these answers are probably not what you were looking for. LOL. But I'll try my best!

A favorite book you read? I finally started the Twisted Series this year (yeah, I know, I'm late) but Twisted Games has been my favorite so far! So much so that Rhys Larson has moved into the top 3 fictional boyfriends. 🤫

A favorite thing you tried? I started taking a Pilates class this year and I have to say I am not a Pilates girl. They're really fun and definitely work your muscles.

Favorite food or snack? Or drink? Favorite food: Call me an Elriel, but I love french fries and potatoes. LMAO. Put them next to a good steak and I'm a goner. Favorite snack: I honestly don't snack too much but recently I've been eating Dots, which are twisted pretzels sprinkled in a seasoning. My favorites are garlic parmesan and the cinnamon sugar ones. However, I will tell you that I would never say no to a cookie. 😁 Favorite drink: Coffee or water.

Favorite thing about the winter and holidays? I love the twinkly lights during the holidays and how it brings people together. I also love to bake (baking is my love language), so I usually end up making plates of cookies and giving them out to friends and family.

Favorite scent? I love lavender and vanilla together. Also mahogany teakwood (it smells like man, leave me alone). I did go sniffing around Bath and Body a while ago and found mahogany vanilla smells really good too. Oh, for the holiday season, I love just the traditional smell of a Christmas tree.

Favorite flower? Peonies!! It may be my self-insert in my fics when I make them Elain's favorite flower - don't judge. 😂

Favorite cold weather item? A warm sweater. I'm in my sweater weather days right now. Also, thick socks and leggings. Just the combo of the three is such a comfort for me during the cold weather.

Something you were obsessed with? Something you will never forget? I mean, isn't Elriel the obvious answer to my obsession? LOL. Something I will never forget (from this year) is the day I opened the package containing a printed copy of IDBTWY. I was on vacation when it was delivered and had to wait an entire week to finally have it in my hot hands. It was such a giddy feeling and I nearly cried. Four years of hard work and it was finally at my finger tips. That's something I'll never forget feeling.

I hope this helps!! Much love to you, Secret Santa! ❄️🎄

#ask #anon #anonymous #tswaney17 responds #secret santa #these were good questions #i had to think on it

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aldbooks · 1 year ago

Text

A Strange Melody - Chapter 5

@sunshinebingo

Read on AO3

Azriel’s wings tucked in behind him as he landed and carefully set Gwyn on her feet. Most people were a bit unsteady after their first time flying but she possessed a surprising grace, finding her balance with ease as she took a few steps towards the mouth of the sidestreet he’d landed in, towards the village proper, eyes wide.

Coming to her side, he lay a hand on her back and guided her through the crowded square towards the village. It was market day, however, and the usually wide open space was packed with colorful carts and eager shoppers. The scent of sugar and spices filled the air from the various food vendors and Azriel only glanced away for a moment, caught by the smell of cinnamon, only to look back and find Gwyn no longer by his side.

Before he could panic, his shadows guided him towards where she was standing in front of a cart filled with patterned scarfs, running the soft fabric through her fingers. He started after her but, just as he reached her, her attention was diverted and she moved away towards another stall selling beaded jewelry, then another offering carved lanterns and another laden with fragrant flowers.

He dutifully followed her through the crowded market, occasionally buying a trinket here or there that she spent a particularly long time lingering over, not really sure why he did it, only that the thought of her smile when she saw it later made something spark in his chest.

Eventually, Gwyn’s stomach took the lead and they found themselves before a baker's stall full of sweet and savory breads, cakes and pies. He observed her as she exclaimed over the options, chatting happily with the proprietor, noting again that she seemed surprisingly unfamiliar with her surroundings despite being from the islands herself.

At his suggestion, they selected a few pillowy rolls basted in garlic, butter and herbs, a couple of meat pies, and two slices of the honey drizzled pastries that were a signature dish of the islands. He had originally intended to take her to the tavern across the square that served his favorite stew and ale but Gwyn seemed so eager to try the baker’s fare, he couldn’t deny her.

The moan she made as she bit into the pie stuffed with ground beef and loaded with spices, sent an unexpected pulse of heat through his body and he could do nothing but stare at her as she eagerly sampled from the bag in his hand, her hypnotizing eyes lighting with an almost unearthly glow of delight with each new flavor she tasted. He was so wholly lost in his study of her, it took him a moment to remember they were standing in a crowded village square. Between his towering frame, wings and shadows, and Gwyn’s fiery red hair and otherworldly beauty, they were starting to gather attention.

Azriel cleared his throat, forcefully shoving down the spark of lust that had risen as he’d watched her and gently guided her towards the outskirts of the crowd, his shadows shielding them from prying eyes, particularly those of the males who had begun leering at her. Glancing around them, he realized just how out of place Gwyn was among the residents of the island. Her brightly colored hair and pale skin did not blend with the olive complexions and dark hair of those around them and he wondered anew where she had come from because he was positive it wasn’t here. Possibly not anywhere in the Night Court.

Just who was she?

Just then, Gwyn lifted a hand to wipe the corner of her mouth and he noticed something he hadn’t before. Peeking from beneath the sleeve of her borrowed sweater… was a dark, round mark, shot through with silver. Azriel froze as he stared at her wrist. He knew that mark, was intimately familiar with what it meant after spending years helping Rhys collect on his many bargains. Usually, his friend kept a certain- professional distance from the fae he dealt with as The Bargainer, and yet he had brought this particular client to his home… why?

Azriel shadows chattered indiscernibly around him, apparently unwilling to share whatever they knew of the High Lord’s bargain with the beauty. Blinking his mask into place before she could notice the direction of his stare, Azriel glanced back up at Gwyn who was just pulling out her dessert, giving it a curious sniff. The cinnamon sugar glaze and toasted nuts wafted to him, reminding him of his own hunger. Absently, he pulled one of the bread rolls from the bag and took a bite.

“So,” he said after a moment. “How did you end up at the palace? Do you not have family back home who are missing you?”

He nearly regretted the words when the brightness in her eyes dimmed suddenly and she stared down at her honey covered fingers. “No. My mother died years ago when I was young. I never knew my father. It was just my sister and I for nearly a century.”

There was clear pain and grief in her tone and Azriel gentled his own voice as he encouraged her to continue. “What happened to her?”

Gwyn heaved a great sigh, her shoulder slumping sadly. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and wipe away whatever memory had stolen her light. But he needed answers. “She was taken one night by some sailors who thought she was-” her eyes suddenly flew to his and her mouth snapped shut, halting whatever she’d been about to say. Her freckles disappeared as her cheeks turned red and she floundered slightly. “Uh- she… was killed… A few years ago now. I’ve been on my own ever since.”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed slightly at her abbreviated response but didn’t push. “I’m sorry… Do you not have friends or neighbors at least who might be worried about you?”

Eyes downcast once more, she brought the last bite of her dessert to her lips and sucked away the honey on the tips of her fingers. Azriel’s mind abruptly detoured into places better left unexplored at the moment and intentionally refocused on the conversation as she shook her head. “Not really. I’m friendly with my neighbors but we mostly keep to ourselves and Catrin was my closest friend my entire life. With her gone… I admit I’ve grown lonely.”

“Is that why you left?” It would make sense that someone alone in the world and still laden with grief might want to escape their own world for a while. Gods knew he and his brothers had done the same from time to time. Didn’t explain why she’d ended up making a bargain with Rhys and arriving at the palace- naked.

Her lips parted, her gaze flicked to his as her cheeks darkened once more. “Yes,” she answered slowly.

His shadows gave a hissing sort of laugh. Interesting.

“Ready to go back?” he asked, finishing the last of the roll in his hand.

She nodded towards the bag. “Aren’t you going to finish eating?”

He rolled the top of the bag shut, his shadows swallowing it up into the void. “It’ll keep till I get home. I still have some more work to do before dinner tonight.”

Gwyn glanced at the market once more with a disappointed pout but nodded and allowed him to scoop her up into his arms. Villagers quickly moved out of the way as his wings spread and he took flight once more. She was silent on the flight back, simply resting in his arms, her salty sweet scent surrounding him as she leaned her head against his shoulder and he fought against the urge to steal her away somewhere until he solved the mystery of who she was and learned every one of her secrets.

They parted ways when they reached the palace, Gwyn to the library where she’d been informed Nesta was waiting for her and him to his study. He had much to ponder.

#gwynriel

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sillysillygoose444 · 7 months ago

Text

Oh my gosh - this was such a treat and when k saw the word count, I needed to try and like “live tweet” my feelings so this is a little long lol, but here we are:

I LOVED this, in case that’s not clear <3

RHYS HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME !

“How could he when his anxiety began to gnaw at him? Because what if you grew tired of waiting for him within these seven days and gave into Helion’s charm? Each time he closed his eyes, his mind flashed with images of you reciprocating Helion’s advances, and sneaking off into his chambers in the middle of the night...”

^ Az just wants to be able to tell her he loves her ! Like, babe is alrdy so anxious, Rhysand please >:(

Moonstone >>>

““Fine,” Azriel murmurs, reluctantly taking the garments from you. Your fingers brush against his, sending a spark through him.”

^ not only his ~ reaction ~ to her outfit, but him trusting her enough to pick out clothes for him he would be comfortable with is so sweet

BAHAHAHA - I don’t resort to poetry. Yeah, right, my guy ;)

“When you reach the hallway, you linger there for a moment, sparing a glance toward Azriel’s room. The night is still young and you’re surprised to see no light seeping through the door. Has he gone to bed already? Worry knits your brows as you wonder if he’s okay. He has been acting strange since he arrived. He had quoted poetry at you for Cauldron’s sake!”

^ the concern they have for each other is so precious and that being amplified by him trying to quote poetry has me dying

I’m sorry. “My pretty historian”. I’m a puddle on the ground

“You let out a groan in protest, not wanting to move from your spot.”

^ this whole section is soooo heart-warming. His care for her, his shadows care for her, how gentle he is w her. Uggghhh

Oh my gosh. She’s ab to cook for him and she’s so excited ab it toooo - v worried atm

“Helion takes a seat and with a wave of his hand, tonight’s feast materializes in front of you. There’s a slight raise in Rhysand’s brow, betraying his mild surprise. Every single platter–from the appetizers to dessert seems to be a perfect blend of Day and Night delicacies with the names to match. There’s the bruschetta, the bread slices topped with sun-ripened tomatoes, fresh basil and a hint of night garlic. Then, there’s the spinach artichoke dip made from sun-infused spinach, blended with moon-cheese and served with nightshade vegetables.”

^ once again, I just have to say, your attention to detail is >>>

I do love a good love / making bond confession. I’m a sucker for it

“And then you kiss him, the bond between you shimmering and glittering. A tangible, golden connection intensifying with every heartbeat.”

^ This made me unbelievably happy oh my gosh

Be Patient | Azriel x Reader

summary: After the mating bond snaps, Azriel follows you to the Day Court, where he spends seven days patiently longing after you.

warnings: fluff, mild angst bc of Az pining and lowkey being a menace in day court and reader being a little dense, also this is really long, 11K, my longest one shot ever...

note: This is a part two to Be Safe but can be read as a stand alone too. Huge shoutout to @stormhearty , @daycourtofficial & @thecrowesnest13 & the sweet overexcited anon who helped me with this! This is set pre-ACOTAR events and I realized my mistake in naming Helion as High Lord because I think he became High Lord UTM? so for this fic's sake, let's just assume he was already High Lord..

Mate.

The realization crashes over Azriel like a tidal wave. It’s almost suffocating. Mine, the bond in his chest roars. Protect. The emotions swell, fueled by his shadows whispering and urging him on to go and keep you safe. Because who better to do so than him?

Before he knows it, he’s following you into Day Court, his shadows swallowing his form until Mor’s and Cassian’s laughter are distant echoes.

Piercing violet eyes greet him as soon as he steps out from his shadows, blocking his view. It’s almost as if he had been expecting Azriel. Talons rake across the shields of his mind and Azriel reluctantly lets him in. Go back, Rhysand asserts, holding the shadowsinger’s gaze.

I can’t, he nearly growls in his mind.

The thought of leaving you, not being by your side is insufferable. It’s this very thought that has some of his shadows dancing toward you, the shadow curled around his ear whispering to him about your whereabouts. You stand, a couple of feet away, speaking with Helion. You’re completely oblivious to the two Illyrian males glaring at one another.

What do you mean you can’t? Rhysand doesn’t even attempt to hide the irritation in his tone.

Azriel then shows Rhysand what happened just moments ago. The mating bond snapping into place right as you were winnowing away. He leaves out the part where Cassian and Mor had been teasing him but he suspects Rhysand was aware of that.

Rhysand lets out a sigh, running a hand down the length of his face. What appears to be exhaustion tears through his features before he leans in toward the taller male. “Really?” He whispers in an exasperated hush. “Right now?

Azriel falters with a huff, his head following the direction his shadows had gone. It’s only when his gaze lands on you that it softens. “You say it like I had a choice.”

But boy is he glad it is you.

”Fine,” Rhysand sighs after a long moment of silence. He knows he can’t do anything about it, the determination in the Shadowsinger’s eyes burning bright. He’d fear going against the Cauldron if he did. “You can stay. But—“ he lifts a jewel adorned finger in warning“—you distract her—“

Azriel’s head turns back to Rhysand and there’s a frown on his face. ”I don’t distract her.”

”Please,” Rhysand chuckles in disbelief. “Listen, I’m happy for you. Truly. But we didn’t come all this way for nothing and I need her to be able to focus. She can’t even think properly around you and if she finds out you’re her–”

“She thinks about me?”

Rhysand shuts his mouth with a withering stare.

Azriel’s shadows are then whispering madly, coercing him to turn his attention back to you. You’re giggling and smiling at Helion, cheeks flushed with a blush. Azriel flushes too but for an entirely different reason. Helion has your hand in his, amber eyes holding you captive, as he’s slowly lifting it up to his lips.

Shadows are coiling softly around your wrist and before Helion can kiss your hand, your hand is being pulled away from his. Helion’s brows furrow, hand falling to his side as one lone shadow floats in front of him. He is not fluent in shadows but the way it writhes at him gives one clear message.

”Oh, hi!”

Azriel watches, taking note of the small fond smile that forms on your face as you recognize the dark tendrils wrapped around your arm. Your eyes find him almost immediately and then you’re walking toward him.

“Azriel, what are you doing here?”

“Shadowsinger,” Helion purrs in greeting, a pleased smirk on his face that grows at Azriel’s indifferent nod. “I was not aware you were coming too.”

Rhysand places a hand on Azriel’s shoulder, his fingers digging into the soft, black leather. Don’t say anything. Rhysand warns in his mind. We’ll talk somewhere else.

Rhysand forces a charming smile onto his face and Helion’s eyes flicker with interest. “I apologize for the short notice but Azriel is here to… escort y/n.”

“Escort?”

Both you and Helion say in unison. Though Helion’s tone carries mirth, yours carries shock. Confusion clouds your features, worry flickering in your wide eyes. Rhysand must’ve eased your mind, for Azriel feels the tension leave your muscles shortly afterwards. Still, you inch closer to him, as if seeking the comfort of his presence. He instinctively mirrors your movement, the blue siphons on his leathers brushing against your arm and gleaming in response.

“You offend me, Rhys. I’ve welcomed you to my court with no ill intention.” Helion chides, though his voice is light with humor.

“y/n here is just very precious to us,” Rhysand says, choosing his words carefully. “I hope you can understand.”

Azriel’s shadows whisper the details of the scene around him, noting the apologetic look Rhysand sends to Helion. The High Lord of Day chuckles, but Azriel’s focus remains steadfastly on you. You turn to him with a questioning smile and he returns your smile, the warmth in his hazel eyes answering your unspoken question.

“I can see why,” comes Helion’s response, gaze lingering on you with an appreciative gleam.

Azriel’s head whips fast toward the High Lord of the Day Court and another sigh escapes Rhysand.

“Seven days. That’s all I ask.”

“That’s seven days too long, Rhys.”

Rhysand falters back, appalled by those words. He lets out a small laugh. “Too long? Seven days is too long but a whole century wasn’t?”

“It hasn’t been a century,” Azriel hisses and Rhysand raises his brows. “It’s been eighty nine years. Besides, it’s different now.”

You’re his mate now.

The mating bond had snapped into place with such force that he was still reeling from its impact. It was as if every emotion of his was amplified, sending a startling quiver through those golden threads in his chest. Jealousy jerked the most. It’s why every few seconds, his gaze flickered towards the hall you had disappeared into with the High Lord known for his scandalous appetites. One of his shadows had stayed with you and though he knew it would come back if Helion tried anything, it did nothing to ease him. He should be beside you right now. Not beside Rhysand, who seemed keen on keeping you from him.

“You saw the way she looked at you when you arrived.”

Azriel turned back to Rhysand, that image of you reappearing in his mind from Rhysand’s perspective. Surprise had flickered across your features, but like a passing storm cloud, it swiftly gave way to brightness. Your eyes sparkled, your lips curved into a fond smile. Without hesitation, you left Helion's side, drawn instinctively toward Azriel. It was as if nothing else mattered but him, as if there was no one else in the world but you two.

The bond in his chest sings in delight because overriding all other emotions swirling madly around, there is love.

Azriel had loved you long before the bond’s sudden manifestation. His feelings had grown silently over the years, nurtured through shared moments and unspoken gestures. He knew he had to confess his feelings to you–something that had been eating at him for years. Eighty nine years to be exact, as he pointed out just a moment ago.

But fear always held him back.

Fear that he had mistaken your kindness for something more. Fear that he would ruin the decades of friendship you two had built. Fear that you loved him but not enough to see past his scars.

He realizes now how ridiculous those fears sound.

The kindness you harbored for him was not the same kindness you showed others. Your friendship was strong and precious, something he would fiercely protect no matter what. Your hand always sought his, never showing disgust towards the marred roughness of his own. You had even dedicated so much of your time to researching Prythian’s herbs and treatment for burns, working with Madja to make a special concoction–a soothing balm to alleviate the inevitable pains.

By the Mother, he was a fool and it took the bond snapping into place to realize it.

“Yes. You both are.”

Now, the golden threads in his chest urged him to confess, to bridge that small lingering distance between you–

“But you can’t. Not now.”

“Get out of my head,” Azriel snaps, glaring at his brother.

“Well, I can’t help it if you’re thinking so loudly,” Rhysand replies, a touch defensively. “Look, y/n has been looking forward to this trip so much. If you tell her about the bond, it will consume her every thought and cloud that brilliant mind of hers. I know this is selfish of me but I need her to be focused and you to be patient.”

Azriel’s glare wavers. He knows how much this trip means to you. It was the first time Rhysand was entrusting a task upon you outside of the Night Court’s borders. Getting to see the magnificent library of the Day Court was also all your bibliophile heart could talk about. His desire to protect you and respect your focus battled fiercely with his yearning to tell you about the bond.

“Seven days?”

“Seven days,” Rhysand confirms, the tension easing from his face. “Then, she’s all yours. Just be patient.”

Azriel scoffs. “I’ll be so patient.”

But as they both join you and Helion for dinner, something tells Rhysand that this is going to be a long week.

Helion had hosted an extravagant feast for you all last night, even bringing out his finest, aged whiskey to celebrate. He had toasted it to Azriel, the surprise guest, with a cheeky wink. When his flirtatious efforts went ignored, Helion had turned his affections toward you. A notion that left Azriel seething and Rhysand on guard.

After dinner, Helion had given you a brief tour of the palace and introduced you to the fae you encountered along the way. To Azriel’s relief, the room he’d be staying in was right across from yours. His shadows had eagerly scouted the halls and both your rooms, becoming attuned to every creak and sound as an extra measure of safety. They fell asleep before he did and were the ones to wake him up when they heard you shuffling around your room.

As Azriel laces his leathers, the dark tendrils rush toward his door, peeking out underneath. It seems they are just as eager as he is to see you.

“Good morning!” You chirp happily, practically buzzing with excitement as you greet him at his door. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.” A lie. Your joy is so contagious it’s easy to mask his exhaustion, his smile matching yours. “Did you?”

He had, in fact, not slept well.

How could he when his anxiety began to gnaw at him? Because what if you grew tired of waiting for him within these seven days and gave into Helion’s charm? Each time he closed his eyes, his mind flashed with images of you reciprocating Helion’s advances, and sneaking off into his chambers in the middle of the night...

You give a noncommittal hum in response, pulling him out of his inner turmoil and bring him back to you.

“I’m really glad you’re here, Az.”

Azriel’s shadows mirror your enthusiasm. A faint blush takes over his cheeks as you grasp his hand to tug him along with you. “Rhys has private business to attend to with Helion and I did not want to do this alone,” you say, waving your bucket list in the air with your free hand.

Of course, you had a list of things you’d like to do in Day. It instilled another fear into Azriel because what if you fell in love with Day and refused to go back to Night? He eyes all the bullet points on that list of yours and refuses to let himself make that fear come true.

Anything you loved here, he would make sure to remind you that the Night Court could do better.

“And who better to spend the day with than my loyal shadowsinger, right?” You remark with a playful glint in your eye.

“Right,” Azriel replies and there’s a brightness in his heart at your words. My loyal shadowsinger. His shadows dance in agreement.

But there is one thing the Night Court can’t replicate, a truth he reluctantly acknowledges as you both step outside into the warmth of the sun.

A radiant smile breaks out on your face as you bask in the bright sunlight. Its golden glow kisses your skin, highlighting every feature he adores.

His leathers are not meant for this type of weather. He can feel himself growing hot, his shadows already endlessly working to keep him cool. Though you were dressed in something lighter than him, a pale blue dress, some of them flit toward you to do the same.

Azriel allows you to pull him along, savoring the feel of your hand in his. The cobblestone streets of the Day Court’s market are narrow, flanked by vibrant stalls and lively vendors. He tucks his wings tightly against his back to avoid brushing against the bustling crowd. His grip on your hand is firm. He tells himself it’s to ensure he doesn’t lose you amidst the sea of fae, but deep down, he has no intention of ever letting go.

Your first stop is a quaint little shop that, according to your research, sells the best espresso in Prythian. Azriel prefers his coffee black but you convince him to try Day’s specialty, a honey lavender latte.

You watch him, awaiting his response.

“I hate it,” he tells you, though it’s surprisingly good. Really good. “Velaris has better coffee.”

You take your drink back with a shrug as you head to your next stop. The flower market. As you stroll through the vibrant market stalls, you point out a cluster of flowers, your voice tinged with excitement as you describe their origins and meanings. You’re like a living encyclopedia and Azriel has always admired this about you. He asks you more questions, even if he already has the answers. Just so that he can see the light in your eyes dance with every word you speak.

A beautiful pink blossom catches his eyes as he’s read about it before, already familiar with its meaning. An idea sparks into his mind. Maybe, if he starts dropping hints, it’d make his impending confession go smoother. He tugs on your hand gently. “And this one?”

“It’s a pink camelia. A symbol of love, adoration and longing.”

He tosses a coin to the merchant and then picks the prettiest pink camelia among the bunch. He tucks it behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. The shadows that cling to him, hiding from the sun, peek out from above his shoulders, stirring in anticipation as you look up at Azriel and smile.

“y/n, I–”

His words hang in the air, the tendrils too distracted by you to notice the merchant approaching. Suddenly, a hand appears between you both, golden bracelets dangling before your eyes. “A pretty bracelet for the pretty lady?” the fae male asks. “They’re one of a kind!”

Your eyes widen as you take in the shimmering jewelry. “How much?”

“Ten coins,” the merchant replies, but as his eyes roam over you, he adds, “But for you, five.”

“Okay,” you agree, not having the heart to say no.

You reach for one of the gold bracelets, its chain holding a gleaming sun made of amber in the center. Before you can even open your coin purse, Azriel shoves ten coins into the merchant’s awaiting hand, his glare sending the man skittering away.

“Thank you,” you say to Azriel, struggling to clasp the bracelet around your wrist. Azriel gestures for you to let him help, and you do, watching the subtle furrow of his brow as he fastens the hook. “But why did you give him ten coins? He said five…”

“I didn’t,” Azriel lies smoothly for the second time this morning, and when your eyes narrow in suspicion, he simply smiles and tilts his head toward the right. “Shouldn’t we be heading to the art gallery if we want to make it to the water fountain show in time?”

That gets you going.

Your hold on his hand tightens as you lead the way to the art gallery. There, you’re captivated by the various amounts of artwork from Day, one of them being a very detailed and very naked sculpture of Helion. Azriel can’t help but remind you of the beauty of Feyre’s paintings, tugging you along, using the water fountain show as an excuse to get you to leave quicker.

Afterwards, you visit a bookstore and many other stores, discovering that the bracelet on your wrist was not one-of-a-kind. They are available in various stores, each offering different variations. Instead of feeling disappointed, you find one specially for Azriel. Its chain is silver, adorned with a glimmering moon made from moonstone, a perfect complement to your amber sun.

By the time you both return to the palace, the sky is painted with hues of twilight, signaling it’s almost dinner time.

“Thank you for helping me carry all my stuff,” you say with a sheepish grin, glancing at the bags scattered on your floor, most of them filled with gifts for Cassian, Mor, and Amren since they couldn’t come along.

“Of course,” Azriel replies with a soft smile, his eyes warm. He had refused to let you lift a finger.

Standing on your tip-toes, you aim to kiss his cheek but underestimate the height difference, your lips landing on his jaw instead. The touch has the same effect. Azriel blushes, his wings twitching slightly, and his shadows snicker behind him. He hopes you can't hear them.

“Are you sure–” he clears his throat “–are you sure you don’t need help packing them up too?”

Your eyes light up and then you’re pulling him into your room. Unfortunately, no more kisses came from that. However, the shared smiles and easy conversation made it all worth it.

Be patient, he reminds himself. But he can't help but think of the golden threads unraveling in his chest, giving them an experimental tug. There’s no response, yet he hopes that yours will entwine with his any day now, binding you together forever.

As the golden, morning light of the Day Court bathes the grand hall, Azriel waits for you to enter the place where you'd have breakfast together. When he hears your approaching footsteps, he turns.

Suddenly, he finds himself unable to think. Unable to breathe, even.

You were beautiful. He was well aware of this, always has been. But today, you were absolutely stunning, like a goddess descended from the heavens.

The dress you wore was different from your usual Night court dresses and though it screamed Day court fashion, Azriel couldn’t bring himself to care. The delicate ivory, flowing fabric draped elegantly over your body. His eyes trace every detail of the dress, from the plunging neckline to the high slits that reveal the soft and inviting skin of your legs. There’s a tightness in his throat when he catches a glimpse of the gold garter adorning your thigh.

“Good morning,” you greet him with a smile, a hint of shyness in your eyes despite the boldness of the dress.

"Morning," he barely manages to say.

“Good morning indeed,” Helion purrs as he appears behind you, Rhysand at his side.

Azriel, captivated by your beauty, barely registered the expression on Helion's face. Meanwhile, his shadows moved with a protective instinct, delicately brushing against your legs as if to shield you from Helion's lingering gaze.

As you approach him, Azriel's heart continues to hammer against his chest. He musters up a smile. Though small, it’s full of admiration and awe.

Helion chuckles. “My oh my, Rhysand. I did not know your Shadowsinger was capable of smiling.”

Rhysand lets out an amused exhale. His tone is light but it carries a subtle warning. “He’s capable of many things, including patience.”

A muscle feathers in Azriel’s jaw as he falls into step with you. He doesn’t notice the small frown that takes over your features. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says, voice sweet despite the slightly sour expression on his face.

You shake your head in protest. “You look all hot and bothered.”

Azriel chokes on his spit. “Excuse me?”

“You’re already sweating,” you explain to him, reaching up with your free hand to brush his dark curls away from his forehead. His wings flutter in response to the surprise touch. “And it’s barely morning. Come on, you’re not wearing those leathers today. I’m sure Helion left some clothes for you too.”

Azriel heats up at the mention of Helion’s name, his mind briefly flickering to the thought of the High Lord leaving such a dress for you. He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it further as you tug him back toward the room he’s staying in, mumbling about how Azriel has a death wish for wearing such thick clothing in the Day Court.

But it’s the High Lord of the Day Court who has a death wish, Azriel thinks.

“We won’t be long!” You call over your shoulder to Rhysand and Helion, who both give a dismissive wave.

Helion shakes his head in amusement. “Are they always like this?”

Rhysand lets out a snort. “Unfortunately.”

“Come. Let us have a drink. I believe we’re in very much need of one.”

“This early in the morning?”

“My friend, have you not had orange juice and champagne? Such a lovely, delightful combination. I call it a mimosa…”

Back in Azriel's room, you rummage through the clothes Helion had left for him. His eyes soften as you continue to fuss over him. Though he complains about it, he secretly loves when you fuss over him. He has to peel his gaze away from you when you bend down to pick up a top, his thoughts threatening to drift elsewhere if he doesn't.

Hot. Bothered. His shadows repeat your words from earlier to him and he eyes them with a glare.

Despite Helion’s wish for Azriel to wear a toga like he proudly does, Azriel is relieved at what you picked out for him. He’s also touched that you know him well enough to pick something close to his taste. “Here,” you say, holding up a pair of loose fitting dark trousers and a sheen, flowy white top with a deep v neck similar to the one of your dress. “This will be perfect for today.”

“Fine,” Azriel murmurs, reluctantly taking the garments from you. Your fingers brush against his, sending a spark through him.

“I trust you can dress yourself from here,” you tease, giving him a playful pat on his shoulder.

Azriel lets out a scoff, resisting the urge to reply with a roguish remark. He quickly changes into the clothes you picked out for him, not wanting to cut into your breakfast time any more than necessary. Today is a busy day for you, as you will spend most of it in the library, researching all about the death gods for an assignment Rhysand gave you.

When he steps out of the room, your eyes light up as they look over his body. His muscles flex instinctively when your gaze lingers on the tattoos swirling on his chest. You blink, and with a smile say, “Radiant.”

Azriel feels the blood rush to his neck. He’s received many compliments before but never something as bright as “radiant.” He suddenly yearns to hear more–only if they come from your pretty lips.

“Y/n, have I ever told you how much I—” Your eyebrows raise in curiosity, and he loses his resolve, Rhysand’s warning echoing in his head. “—appreciate you…”

Those were not the words Azriel had intended, and he lets out a defeated breath. Yet, your smile does not falter. Instead, you hook your arm through his, beaming up at him as you guide him through the halls.

“I believe you have but please, enlighten me again…”

Helion’s gaze fixes on you and Azriel as you finally joined them for breakfast. Dressed in resplendent Day Court fashion, the two of you look ravishing, and Helion cannot decide who is more captivating–you or the stoic shadowsinger at your side.

His affections have always met a brick wall with the Illyrian male. So naturally, when another pretty face shows up at his court, he focuses all his attention on you. He savors your sweet reactions and Azriel’s jealous ones, sensing more between you two. He’s determined to unravel it.

After breakfast, Helion sidles up beside you, flashing a charming smile. “Allow me to admire you more closely, Lady Y/n,” he says, his voice smooth and rich as he extends his hand.

Azriel’s jaw clenches, his shadows swirling restlessly when you take Helion’s hand. Helion’s smile widens, and then he gestures for you to spin. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate.”

You gasp, eyes widening in delight and cheeks tinting with a delicate blush. “You know Shakespeare?”

“Know it? I live it.” Helion responds. “I have his original copies in my personal library. You can come take a look, if you’d like. Just give me a day to…organize things.”

Azriel’s eyes narrow, not liking the intonation in the High Lord’s voice. Helion can feel that primal instinct–the possessiveness Azriel feels for you–simmering beneath the surface. His eyes widen slightly in acknowledgement and then he’s turning to Rhysand.

"Helion,” Rhysand drawls, confirming his suspicions. “As y/n’s escort, you're making Azriel's shadows rather restless.”

Helion laughs, a rich, melodious sound that fills the room. "I can't help it if your historian is so captivating, Rhysand," he says, winking at you and delighting in the response it shakes from Azriel.

Azriel falls into step behind you as Helion guides you all toward the magnificent library of the Day Court. Sunlight streams through towering windows, casting rainbows across the marble floors. You had praised it as the biggest and most beautiful library in all of Prythian. As Azriel stands in front of the entrance, he reluctantly acknowledges that none of the libraries in the Night Court could come close if this is just how the entrance looks.

As Azriel moves to step inside with you, Rhysand stops him.

"What are you doing?" Azriel huffs, peering over Rhysand's shoulder to catch a glimpse of the awed expression on your face as Helion talks to you. "I'm Y/n's escort, remember?"

“There’s no need for one in the library. You’ll only be a distraction here.” Rhysand replies and sensing his apprehension, he adds. “She’ll be safe here. I promise.”

“But–”

“No,” Rhysand interrupts and Azriel’s gaze hardens. A playful glint dances in Rhysand’s violet eyes. “Go take a walk, a cold shower or perhaps, read up on some poetry.”

With that, Rhysand enters the library, motioning for the guards to shut the door. As the door closes, a single dark tendril manages to slide through.

I don’t resort to poetry, Azriel thinks bitterly and he swears he hears Rhysand’s chuckle in his mind.

That night, during dinner, Helion took all your attention as the two of you quoted and mused over poetry, Rhysand chiming in occasionally. Azriel remained silent, a muscle ticking at his jaw.

The following morning, Azriel didn’t get a chance to speak to you much either. You and Rhysand were deep in discussion, strategizing how to tackle the vast array of books about the old gods. Azriel hadn’t even finished his coffee when you abruptly stood from your seat, mouth still full of food, and hurried off towards the library. The golden threads buried deep in his chest stirred with your passion.

So while you spent your day in the library, engrossed in your research, Azriel decided to spend his day doing his own research. He had his shadows sneak into your room and retrieve one of the poetry books he is certain you bought with you. You read one every night before bed.

Azriel reads some of the poems, engraving the words into his memory, just in case. He ends up falling asleep in his room, the lack of sleep finally catching up to him. His shadows stir him awake, hours later, pointing to the clock hanging across from him. It’s almost dinner time so Azriel freshens up and then makes his way toward the library.

“Hey, you,” you greet Azriel happily, two of his shadows trailing behind you, as you step out of the library. The second one had joined you this morning as the first one had been feeling lonely. “I think they like me better than you.”

“Keep them,” Azriel shrugs. When you're not looking, he gives them a knowing nod, though his voice feigns annoyance. “Traitors.”

“What did you do today?” You ask, falling into step beside him as you two walk toward the dining hall. “Anything interesting?”

“I learned something.”

“Yeah?”

Azriel turns to you, his expression serious as he clears his throat. "She walks in beauty, like the night. Of cloudless climes and starry skies; and all that’s best of dark and bright... uh, meet in her something…eyes…?"

You blink at him, confusion furrowing your brow. "Something eyes?"

Before Azriel can explain, Helion chimes in, that cheeky grin plastered on his face. "It's 'Meet in her aspect and her eyes,’" he corrects smoothly, his eyes twinkling with amusement, as he beckons for you to take your seats.

Azriel shoots a glare at Helion and Rhysand kicks him under the table in warning. Helion chuckles, unfazed by the death stare coming from Azriel as he continues.

“She walks in beauty, like the night. Of Cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright, meet in her aspect and her eyes; Thus mellowed to that tender light, which heaven to gaudy day denies.”

“Oh, Lord Byron!” you say in recognition, turning to Azriel with a look that soothes his embarrassment. “She Walks in Beauty. What a lovely poem. Did you know it was one of my favorites?”

“I didn’t,” Azriel replies casually, though inwardly his heart races and his shadows race to cover the blush delicately tinting his neck. Of course he knew it was your favorite. You had scribbled hearts all over the page in your book. “I just liked it and thought I’d share it with you.”

Your smile widens, touched by his gesture. “I thought you didn’t fancy poetry, Az.”

“I thought the same,” Rhysand says, eyes narrowing at Azriel.

"I'm full of surprises," Azriel says dryly, meeting Rhysand's gaze evenly.

“Well, let’s hope it’s the last of your surprises.”

“I believe I also have some of Lord Byron’s works. How about I finally show you my personal library after dinner?” Helion speaks, directing all attention back to him.

Azriel opens his mouth to protest, not liking the inviting gaze in the High Lord’s eyes, but Helion interjects smoothly. “No worries, escort, ” Helion says, his grin widening. “I’ll take good care of y/n.”

Azriel sulks, a bitter taste in his mouth from Helion’s effortless charm throughout dinner. He tries his best to keep you from leaving, insisting you try every single dessert laid out on the table. Barely halfway through, you slump back in your chair, claiming you can’t eat another bite without bursting.

His ears perk up and he sends a small prayer to the Mother that your full stomach dissuades you from visiting Helion’s personal library, his own stomach not being able to handle the thought. Tonight, it seems The Mother does not favor him. When Helion offers you his arm, you take it excitedly, oblivious to the sulking Shadowsinger you left behind.

Rhysand laughs, finding amusement in the entire situation, while Azriel shoots him a cold stare. If Rhysand hadn’t ordered Azriel to keep the truth of the bond from you until after your trip here, you wouldn't be alone with Helion now.

Yet, Azriel can't help but bitterly reflect that if he had only been upfront about his feelings from the start, he wouldn’t be tormented by such longing now, the bond in his chest roaring at the thought of you with another male.

“I think y/n is more than capable of handling a flirtatious High Lord.”

Azriel’s lips twitch into a brief, reluctant smile. “She is. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Cheer up, Az,” Rhysand teases, lifting his glass in a mock-toast to his friend. “There’s always more poetry to practice. Or perhaps, you should stick to brooding. You’re much better at that.”

“Pass the whiskey,” Azriel replies tersely, his lips pressing into a tight line.

“Patience is a virtue, Az.”

“So is silence.”

You’re swooning, over the moon, after exploring Helion’s personal library. He showed you his special editions of Lord Byron’s and Shakespeare’s works, allowing you to take one back to your room with you to read. You clutch the book to your chest, humming softly to yourself.

When you reach the hallway, you linger there for a moment, sparing a glance toward Azriel’s room. The night is still young and you’re surprised to see no light seeping through the door. Has he gone to bed already? Worry knits your brows as you wonder if he’s okay. He has been acting strange since he arrived. He had quoted poetry at you for Cauldron’s sake!

You walk toward his door and knock. There’s no answer so you knock again. “Az?”

You frown when you’re met with silence and your hands itch to open the door but you hesitate. He could either be asleep, out flying or out training. He had been eyeing the training grounds of Day during Helion’s tour.

With a sigh, you step into your room and decide to get ready for bed, making a mental note to check up on him in the morning. The day had been long and filled with unexpected twists and tomorrow would only bring another long day. Your eyes were tired from reading so much fine print.

As you're fluffing your pillows, you hear the sound of heavy, booted footsteps. Your mind wanders to Azriel but it can’t be. His steps were always quiet, silenced by his shadows. There’s a pause in the steps and a brief moment of stillness.

Abruptly, your door swings open and you let out a small gasp.

You watch as Azriel stumbles in, your heart flying to your chest in relief. His usually graceful steps falter as if the weight of his massive wings is too much to bear. Shadows cling to his wrists, doing their best to keep their master steady.

A look of pleasant surprise softens his features when he spots you, his hazel eyes widening at the sight of you in your nightgown. He brings a hand up to his neck, rubbing it in an attempt to make the flush spreading across his cheeks go away.

“Y/n,” he hiccups with a pleased grin. “You’re here.”

“Of course I am,” you reply, stifling a laugh at his adorable state. “This is my room.”

Azriel’s expression morphs, his eyebrows furrowing and a slight pout forming on his lips. “Didn’t get to spend the day with you,” he mutters, his voice tinged with frustration as he sways slightly. “Or night… you spent it with Helion instead.”

You can’t help but giggle. “Are you jealous, Az?”

Another hiccup. “Maybe.”

Your stomach flutters at the way he admits it so openly. The two of you have always had a playful, flirty dynamic. It had never gone beyond exchanged glances and lingering touches, though. Azriel never let it, and a part of you feared it was because he was too kind to reject you outright. Now, you begin to wonder if you had misinterpreted the situation all along.

“Well, it’s still night,” you tell him, “And you’re here with me now.”

“I am,” Azriel acknowledges with a hint of surprise, as if realizing it anew. “And I know poetry too…”

He straightens up, attempting to appear serious again despite the slight slur in his words. "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height... uh, something about sight, I think?”

Did he somehow know this was another of your favorites? It seems unlikely. In all the years you've known him, Azriel has never shown interest in poetry. Or at least up until two hours ago. You should check his forehead. What if he was coming down with something?

Instead, you clear your throat and help him out.

“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height. My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight. For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee–” your voice wavers at the look Azriel gives you, his hazel eyes shining with an emotion that threatens to weaken your knees. “–to the level of every day’s. Most quiet need, by sun and candle light…”

“I love thee too,” Azriel breathes, holding your gaze and stepping closer to you. “Freely–purely…no, freely as men strive for fight.”

“Right,” you correct with a laugh. “Freely as men strive for right.”

Azriel’s pout deepens, yet there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. “Don’t laugh at me,” he mumbles.

He continues to make his way toward you and you hold out your arms, worried he’ll lose his battle with balance. He ends up slumping face-first onto your bed, his wings splaying out behind him. “Can I stay here? Just for a little bit. I missed you all day.”

“Yeah,” you reply with a soft smile. You missed him too. “But can you make room for me on my bed?”

“Mmm,” Azriel hums, turning on his side. He pats at the space right in front of him, his shadows moving to rest behind him to give you space. “Come here, my pretty historian.”

You feel a rush of warmth course through you, momentarily flustered by the nickname. Looking at Azriel, you hesitate. It wouldn’t be the first time you two shared a bed but it’d be the first time you’d share one in a bed not meant to accommodate for Illyrian wings.

Maybe, it’s best if you help him to his room. Your eyes look toward his shadows and you notice them slowly curling around his back as if going to sleep themselves. They would be no help and neither would Rhys as you were sure he was sharing his night with a pretty fae or two. And you would definitely not be able to carry Azriel back to his room on your own.

So when Azriel pats the bed again, you join him. He frowns when you don’t nestle against him as he wished. Instead, you slip under the covers, resting on your side to face him fully. He adjusts to mirror your position, close enough that you feel his warm breath, noses and hands brushing against each other.

“You smell good,” he says, eyes half-lidded. “Marry me?”

You smile, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his face. “Is that all it takes to marry you? To smell good?”

Azriel’s eyes flutter close, a contented sigh escaping him. “I’d marry you, even if you didn’t smell good,” he says, his words mumbled but filled with affection.

Your heart swells and you lean in to place a gentle kiss on his forehead, feeling exhaustion come over you when Azriel yawns.

“Goodnight, Az.”

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he murmurs, already drifting off to sleep, a peaceful smile on his face. “My sweet, pretty ma–”

A shadow, one of the ones that have taken a liking to you, crawls over you and rushes to Azriel, curling around his mouth to silence him. You are too tired to think about it, simply letting sleep claim you in each other’s comforting presence.

Azriel wakes up with a soft groan, still enveloped by your scent. His shadows stir as he does and he hesitates opening his eyes, not ready to face the aftermath of his drunken state. The impending headache is already breaking the surface. When he opens his eyes, he finds you missing. His worry is eased when one of his shadows brings a small piece of paper to him.

He shifts, moving into a sitting position. One hand rubs at his head while the other takes the note you left for him.

To my star breaking poet, you looked too peaceful to wake. I left some water, tea and bread on the nightstand. Enjoy.

-your pretty historian

His lips tug up into a smile. He turns his head, finding the drinks and food you left for him. He doesn’t dare touch them though, despite the bond in his chest yearning for him to. He then searches for the clock in your room and his eyes widen. It’s past noon. Azriel has never slept this late or felt so rested, especially after a night of heavy drinking.

Taking a deep breath, he allows himself to fall back onto the bed, running his hands through his hair and pulling on it. He lingers there a moment longer before finally rising and heading to his room to bathe and get ready for the day. Knowing you'll be in the library all day, he wonders what to do with himself, having given up on poetry after his unsuccessful attempts.

Azriel makes himself busy by wandering the palace, feeling a bit uneasy walking so freely in the open. He’s so accustomed to blending into the shadows that this exposure feels unnatural. His shadows cling to him, hiding beneath his cloak, equally uncomfortable with the brightness. The day is cooler, so he’s donned his leathers, a small part of him hoping you'll fuss over him again when you see him.

He visits the markets, but they seem less vibrant without you by his side. He then goes to the training grounds of Day, catching up with his missed training and releasing his pent up frustrations with a training dummy. Upon returning to the palace and washing up, he heads towards the library. Though he can’t enter, he knows there are small tables and padded chairs just outside. He found you there during one of your breaks yesterday, so he sits at one of the tables, hoping you'll come again.

A newspaper rests on the table before him, so he picks it up to pass the time. After reading through it twice, he moves to a different table with a chess set, his shadows engaging him in a game. After losing to them three times, he leans back with a sigh. He really should’ve brought some of his unfinished reports to work on.

Overcome with the bond, he had followed you without hesitation, not anticipating that Rhysand would keep him from telling you about it. He didn't have a plan, so while he wasn't happy about it, at least it gave him time to come up with one. The minute you’d go back to Night, Azriel was set on visiting your favorite restaurant and making reservations. He’d surprise you with a day full of your favorites, ending it with his confession, where he hoped you would accept him.

It was one thing to love him back. Another to accept him as your mate.

Before he knows it, the sun begins to set, his shadows buzzing with life as darkness takes over. You still haven’t stepped out of the library. He wonders if you've eaten or had enough water. One of his shadows slips out from underneath the library doors and flutters back to him. It reports that the other shadow, still with you, helped you reach for books and turn pages. It had even wanted to brush your hair back when it fell loose from your tie but was met with an invisible force. High Lord, the shadow hissed and he realizes Rhysand knew him better than he thought. That unwanted chaperone…

When he learns you've skipped lunch, his worry deepens. He paces back and forth in front of the grand doors, his heart aching with the intensity of the bond. Every instinct within him urges him to protect and care for you. Unable to hold back any longer, he takes advantage of the darkening sky and slips into the library.

The shadow that had reported to him leads the way, darting ahead. His other shadows eagerly rush forward, reaching you before he does. They greet the lone shadow that had stayed by your side like long-lost friends reuniting.

Azriel’s heart calms when he finds you asleep, slumped over a desk and surrounded by a mountain of books. You're curled into yourself, goosebumps forming on the exposed skin of your arms. He gently removes his cloak from his leathers and drapes it over you.

You instinctively snuggle deeper into the cloak, half asleep. “Smells s’good,” you murmur, and the bond in his chest tightens.

He gently removes your glasses, the ones you wear when doing prolonged near work, and places them carefully into one of his pockets. There’s a faint glimmer surrounding you and he’s relieved that whatever barrier Rhyand had placed upon you was weakening by the second. Almost like clockwork. He easily breaks through the magic shield, blue siphons gleaming. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his shadows sighing in response.

His touch lingers on your face, thumb ghosting over your cheek. “It’s time for dinner.”

You let out a groan in protest, not wanting to move from your spot.

“You need to eat, Y/n,” he whispers softly. “And then, you can go to bed.”

You blink sleepily at him. “Will you carry me?”

“Of course.”

As he lifts you into his arms, your warmth and the scent of your hair envelop him, the bond in his chest thrumming with joy, his shadows harmonizing in response.

Three more days, he reminds himself. Three more days until he can finally speak of the feelings swelling in his heart. Be patient…

After another day of researching death gods, your mind feels heavy with overwhelming knowledge. Exhausted, you keep to yourself during dinner. You can feel Azriel’s worry, can feel the way the shadows that linger in your presence caress the back of your neck in an attempt to ease you. Rhysand slips into your mind and after assuring him you were just tired and had a headache, he lets you excuse yourself. Helion, ever the caring and doting High Lord, sends you off to bed with a tea to soothe your headache.

You’re quick to wash up and change into your nightgown, slipping under the warm covers with the tea Helion gave you in hand. It has a rich floral scent and as you take your first sip, it brings instant relief to the dull ache in your head. When you’re done, you place the empty cup onto your nightstand and lay down, closing your eyes.

You find yourself trapped in a dark, oppressive forest.

The trees are twisted and gnarled, their branches reaching out like skeletal hands. In the distance, you hear the sinister laugh of Koschei, the death god who you've learned loves to trap women. His voice is a chilling whisper, echoing through the trees, “You cannot escape me.”

Suddenly, the scene shifts, and you’re back in the Court of Nightmares, having to suffer through another court affair. Your hair is pulled so tight into a bun and the corset of your dress barely gives any room to breathe properly. The oppressive atmosphere presses down on you, taking even more of your breath away. You’re standing before your father, his eyes cold and unyielding.

“You will marry Lord Berbrooke.”

“No,” you whisper, eyes widening in fear as Lord Berbrooke appears at your father’s side. Your hands reach for your father’s arms, a desperate attempt to stay with him instead of leaving. You’d much rather continue to endure a life of neglect and solitude than a life that promised violence and bruises.

“Grandfather wouldn’t want this.”

Your father yanks his arm out of your grip, staring you down with a glare. “Your grandfather is dead. It does not matter what he wants.”

Fear grips you as Lord Berbrooke steps closer, a predatory smile on his face. You try to run, but your feet are rooted to the spot. He laughs, the sound chilling you to the bone. It morphs into the sinister laugh from earlier. Lord Berbrooke’s face flickers and shifts, morphing between his own and what your mind imagines of Koschei.

Panic surges through you, and you cry out for help, but your voice is swallowed by the darkness.

You wake up in a cold sweat, heart racing and breaths coming in ragged gasps. Goosebumps prick your skin as the sinister laugh echoes in your mind, refusing to fade. Panic grips you, and without a second thought, you throw off the covers and rush out of your room, desperate to escape the haunting sound that seems to follow you.

Something deep in his chest stirs, flooding him with unease. The bond. Something is wrong. Azriel’s head instinctively turns to his door, shadows sensing your presence in the hallway. Though small and quiet, he can hear your pacing and sense your hesitation as you face his door.

Azriel rushes to the door immediately and opens it. Concern etches on his face as he takes in your trembling form, the way your hands are covering your ears and eyes stricken with pure fear.

His hands reach for yours, gently removing them from your ears. Your eyes remain frantic, scanning over him, as if trying to discern if he is real or not. Without another word, Azriel pulls you into his arms, the familiar warmth and scent of him grounding you.

“It’s okay, I’m here,” he murmurs. His hands rub soothing circles on your back, and you cling to him.

“I had a nightmare,” you whisper, pulling back slightly and looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “About Koschei, and then I was back in the Court of Nightmares. My father… Lord Berbrooke…”

Azriel’s eyes darken with anger and protectiveness. You don’t need to say any more for him to understand. “You’re safe now,” he says firmly. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

His words and the strength of his embrace begin to calm the storm inside you. You bury your face in his chest, taking in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Can I stay with you?”

“Always.” Azriel answers and then he’s guiding you into his room.

He helps you to his bed, tucking you under the covers before carefully settling on the other side. You nestle closer into his chest, your head finding its place against his heart again. His chin rests atop your head and neither of you speak for a while.

“Thank you,” you breathe, voice heavy with emotion.

Azriel knows your thankfulness extends beyond tonight. He had been the one to save you from that dreadful fate that night in the Court of Nightmares. He had been the one to bring to Rhysand’s attention of your grandfather’s forged will, helping you search for the real one. And when Rhysand had moved you to Velaris, Azriel had been your first friend.

“Do you feel better or would you like me to make you–”

“I feel better,” you interrupt, not wanting him to leave, even if it's to make you another tea. “Just your presence is enough,” you confess quietly. “You have a way of making me feel safe and at peace, Az.”

At those words, Azriel feels like he might burst with emotion. He tightens his hold on you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. If only you knew…

As you walk through the library of the Day Court, you take one last look around, letting your gaze sweep over the grand space. The high, arched windows allow streams of the setting sun to filter in, casting a warm glow on the polished marble floors. There are rows upon rows of intricately carved wooden shelves and books of every size and color line them, their spines creating a mosaic of knowledge and history. The scent of parchment and old leather, is one you’ll always hold dear.

Tonight is your last night here. A trail of shadows follows you, blending into the shafts of the light and shadows cast by the towering bookshelves. Rhysand, lounging in the entrance of the library, notices the once unusual sight that has now become routine..

“What are you, a Shadowsinger now?” he quips.

You glance back, catching a glimpse of Azriel’s shadows entwined with your own. They’ve become increasingly protective of you lately, always trailing close, whether you're heading to the library or simply going about your day. What you hadn’t noticed until now was how their numbers had grown since last night.

“I’ve never seen his shadows act like that,” Rhysand comments.

“Oh really?”

Rhysand nods, a glint dancing in his eyes. He gives a small wave to one of the tendrils peeking over your shoulder, lips curving upwards when it cowers away. “They usually stick to him, rarely leaving his side. It seems you’ve captured their interest as you’ve captured their master’s.”

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks at his implication. “I guess they like me,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant.

Rhysand’s grin turns knowing. “It’s more than that, Y/n. Azriel’s shadows are an extension of his will. They’re drawn to what he cares about most.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. “I suppose I should thank them for showing me such care.”

Rhysand chuckles. “Or thank Azriel.”

Rhysand’s words linger with you throughout the evening, much like Azriel’s shadows. A spark of hope blooms in your chest, daring to blossom into something more. You knew Azriel cared for you, but caring for others was in his nature. That’s who he was—caring and protective.

You glance at the shadows caressing your arms, a pensive frown tugging at your lips. In all the years you’ve known him, you had never seen his shadows linger on Rhysand or Cassian. Or Mor, who you were so sure held the Shadowsinger’s affections.

You recall the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, the rare smiles he reserved only for you, the protective glances he shot your way whenever danger was near. Your heart races as the pieces start to fit together, a mixture of shock and elation coursing through your veins. Dare you hope that the man you had loved in secret for so long might feel the same?

The idea seems almost too good to be true, and yet…his shadows were here, with you, wrapped around your fingers. Quite literally.

You look down at the shadows twining with your fingers, a small, hopeful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. For the first time, you allow yourself to entertain the possibility.

With this newfound hope, you head toward the Day Court’s kitchen.

After praising the chef one night, he invited you to his kitchen, offering to teach you how to prepare some of the Day Court’s delicacies. Eager to express your gratitude to Azriel for always being there for you and to Helion for being a gracious host, you decide to finally take up on the chef’s offer. Perhaps, you can even sneak in some of Azriel’s favorites into tonight’s menu.

As it was the last night of your stay, Helion had invited close friends and other allies of his court, filling the grand dining hall with laughter and conversation. You quietly took your seat across from Rhysand and beside Azriel, murmuring a soft greeting. Helion winks at you and the shadow around your arm tenses.

The High Lord of Day stands from his seat, at the head of the table. He raises his glass with a broad grin. “A toast to the Night Court, our cherished guests. It has been an honor to host you all, and I sincerely hope we may have the pleasure of your return soon.”

Everyone at the table raises their glasses, including Azriel—though only after a nudge from you. His expression remains flat and dry as he lifts his glass. You clink yours against his with a teasing glint in your eyes, coaxing a small smile from his lips.

Helion takes a seat and with a wave of his hand, tonight’s feast materializes in front of you. There’s a slight raise in Rhysand’s brow, betraying his mild surprise. Every single platter–from the appetizers to dessert seems to be a perfect blend of Day and Night delicacies with the names to match. There’s the bruschetta, the bread slices topped with sun-ripened tomatoes, fresh basil and a hint of night garlic. Then, there’s the spinach artichoke dip made from sun-infused spinach, blended with moon-cheese and served with nightshade vegetables.

Rhysand looks up, turning to Helion. “Compliments to the chef.”

Helion’s eyes twinkle with delight as he meets your gaze. “And y/n,” he says. “She collaborated with the chef to create tonight’s dinner.”

You smile, a touch of pride warming your cheeks as you look around the table. However, the smile quickly fades when you hear a sudden spluttering. It’s Azriel. He spit his food out, his face a mask of horror and conflict.

“Azriel?” you ask in concern.

He stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “I’m not hungry,” he mutters, his voice suddenly tight.

Your face flushes and a nervous laugh escapes you. “Relax, it’s not poison,” you joke, trying to lighten the mood. But your attempt falls flat.

“I’m not hungry,” he repeats more forcefully, then turns and leaves the room, his movements stiff and tense.

Your eyes begin to sting with unshed tears, the hurt and confusion overwhelming you. You slump back into your chair. “I don’t think I’m hungry either,” you whisper, the words barely audible.

Rhysand nudges your foot from under the table. “Don’t mind him,” he says softly, violet eyes filled with sympathy. “Please, eat. You’ve worked so hard on this.”

You nod, trying to muster the strength to lift your fork, but the sting of Azriel’s rejection is too much. You push the food around your plate, your appetite completely gone. The evening that had started with such promise now feels like a distant memory, overshadowed by whatever tension has now befallen between you and Azriel.

In the corridor outside the dining hall, Azriel leans against the wall, his heart pounding. He knows he’s hurt you, but the thought of unintentionally accepting the bond is too much for him to bear. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The guilt gnaws at him, a constant reminder of the fragile line he’s been walking.

One more night, he reminds himself. One more night and then he can tell you everything.

He can only hope you don’t already hate him for tonight.

Tossing and turning, you let out a long breath as you stare up at the ceiling. Your stomach grumbles, reminding you that you hadn’t indulged in the dinner you had put so much effort into crafting. How could you, when the one person you made it for refused to have even a bite?

His reaction had been as clear as day. Repulsed.

Now, doubts flood your mind. What if you've completely misread everything? The shadows beside you, initially a source of comfort, were beginning to stir unsettling thoughts in you. Maybe Azriel sent them not because he cared so deeply for you but out of obligation and pity?

You're not a High Lord like Rhysand, nor a warrior like Cassian or Mor who fought in the war. You’re just a noblewoman from the Court of Nightmares who fled from a forced marriage. How typical and utterly helpless. That’s what you’ve been since you met Azriel. It shouldn’t have shocked you that he followed you into Day Court.

Any hope that had blossomed in your heart now withers. You were a fool to even entertain the thought. You’ve known Azriel for almost a century and in those years, he’s never hinted at seeing you as anything more than a friend so why would it change now?

Throwing off the covers, you sit up abruptly, gaze flickering towards the door. The urge to confront him grips you fiercely. He did not have to return your feelings but he didn’t have to hurt your feelings so harshly by spitting out your food. You had to settle whatever this was now, even if it left you broken-hearted.

Without bothering to change out of your nightwear, you leap from your bed. The shadows on your bed stir awake and your footsteps quicken, fearing his shadows would reach him before you could.

They beat you to it, even going as far as opening the door for you, allowing you to barge into his room. You’re not surprised to see Azriel wide awake. His shadows must’ve warned him beforehand. He sits on his bed, already facing you and you hate the way your gaze falls to his bare chest. Your eyes trail up the intricate tattoos etched there, slowly making your way up.

The words catch in your throat. You’re nervous. A foreign feeling around Azriel. It makes you want nothing more than to turn and run out the door. His shadows shut the door behind you as if sensing your thoughts.

You refuse to meet his eyes, fearing what you’d find in those hazel depths. “You hate me don’t you?”

The words tumble out unexpectedly, sending a chilling shiver through you. His gaze flickers downward, catching the way you nervously fidget with your fingers, before lifting with intent and searching for your eyes.

“What?”

The sound that leaves Azriel borders on what sounds like amusement, and you cringe, turning your head away. Tears prick your eyes, his shadows rushing to wipe them away gently, coaxing your gaze back to their master. When his eyes meet yours, all you see is concern.

A strange sensation creeps along your ribcage as he stands from the bed, stepping closer to you.

“I don’t hate you.” Azriel states firmly and when his words don’t soothe you as he expected they would, he frowns. His hands replace the shadows brushing against your face. “What makes you think that? What’s wrong?”

“I should be asking you that question,” you laugh humorlessly, casting your gaze down. “Something has gotten into you. You’ve been acting so differently, and at first, I thought—well, it doesn’t matter what I thought as I seem to be wrong every time–”

“It does matter. Tell me.”

It’s now or never. Your throat tightens as you muster the courage—the last bit you have, having used most of it to barge into his room.

“We’ve been walking a fine line, you and I. For decades. Almost a century... And now, I realize you’ve simply been too kind to reject me. I’m sorry if running to you after that nightmare was too much, but did you have to spit out my food? I would’ve preferred if you’d just told me you didn't like me instead of showing me.”

“You’re not making any sense right now.” Azriel says.

“Neither are you.” You shoot back.

“I don’t hate you,” Azriel repeats, hurt flashing across his face at the thought of making you feel that way.

“You spit out my food in front of everyone, Az.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

You feel Azriel’s hand tense against your face. “I can’t say.”

Your breath hitches, and you take a couple of steps back, removing his hands from you. “Because you hate me.”

Azriel’s eyes shut tightly for a moment, his head turning toward the window. He feels the faint warmth of the rising sun and inhales deeply. There’s something burning bright in his eyes when he looks at you again.

“Because you are my mate.”

Mate. A vulnerable shakiness accompanies the word. The words hang in the air, heavy and shocking. The feeling teasing at your ribcage begins to crawl upwards. Your heart skips a beat as it meets your chest, awakening something deep inside you that you hadn’t realized you had. Mate.

“I’m your what?” You gasp, your heart pounding in your chest as the golden threads of fate begin to unravel.

“You feel it now, don’t you?” Azriel approaches slowly, his expression tense and cautious. “You’re my mate. The bond snapped as you were winnowing away. That’s why I followed after you. I wanted to tell you, but Rhysand asked me not to. At least not until we were done here.”

Your racing heart sinks into your stomach. More tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision. “So you don’t want me as your mate either…”

“No,” Azriel’s eyebrows knit together so hard you worry they’ll stick, shadows swirling around him like storm clouds. His hand reaches out for you but you take a step back. “I’m happy it’s you. Relieved. I’ve loved you for so long...”

Your tears fall freely and he takes another deep breath, wings shuddering along with the timber of his voice. “Gods, do you know how agonizing these past days have been for me? Watching you fall in love with this court, with—” He hesitates, unable to say his name “—it’s High Lord.”

His words ignite a spark within you, fanning the hope that had begun to take root in your chest.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t fall in love with this court," you begin and Azriel gives a subtle wince, looking away from you. "But Day is not my home."

Slowly, Azriel looks back at you, and a torrent of emotions floods over you. You're uncertain if they are yours or his, as the bond between you surges like a turbulent river.

“The Night Court is. That’s where my family is. That’s where you are. I wouldn’t trade that for anything. Not even Prythian’s best library.”

Azriel’s eyes soften and when he takes a step forward, you don’t step back. A glimmer of hope lights up his features. “And what of it’s High Lord?”

“He’s nice but he’s not you.” You say with a soft smile. “I love you and only you.”

Azriel cups your face in his hands, leaning his forehead against yours. The smile that breaks out on his rivals the brilliance of the rising run behind him. “I’ve admired you, desired you for so long…I just didn’t want to rush you and when the bond snapped, I feared it’d overwhelm you."

You look up at him, the raw honesty in his eyes reflecting your own emotions. “So, what now?”

Azriel brushes the last tear from your cheek, his touch gentle and reverent. “Be mine?”

A shaky laugh escapes your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer.

“Always.”

And then you kiss him, the bond between you shimmering and glittering. A tangible, golden connection intensifying with every heartbeat.

a/n: I don't like the way I ended this 😭 not my best tbh, I just feel like it was missing something. I honestly wasn't expecting the high demand for a part two to Be Safe so I hope you enjoyed some of this as much as the first part. Anyway, here's a little meme I had made for this fic while I was procrastinating on finishing it.

here's a bonus scene.

tag list (tagged all those who commented and reblogged with tags, in case you wanted to read more. sorry if I missed some!): @jswizzlewrites , @hellodarling1357, @fxckmiup, @pricklepearbloom,

@tothestarsandwhateverend, @mika-no-sekai-blog, @cherryjain17, @illyrian-dreamer,

@darlingbravebelle, @katherinejess, @lady-of-tearshed, @daisesarelove, @beardburnsupersoldiers

@assriels, @sunshinepeachx, @buckyandgeraltsupremacy

@brieflyclassymortal, @thesunloveschips, @silver-flames-47, @ladybirdbeetle7, @everythingacotarbxm1012

@starlitlakes, @mxtantrights, @itsallacotar, @mother-above, @andreperez11

@coolepowersthings, @littlebookbengal, @lipstickmarks, @aneekapaneeka, @harrypottergirl162

general tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria

@the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human

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