#acotarxreader

[acotarxreader]

Mirror Part Two

Azriel x Reader

Warnings: High angst, drama, fluff, injury, Tamlin

Synopsis: After your abrupt exit from the night court you return to your worldly travels but the rising threat of war with Hybern has Rhysand seeking out his favourite weapon once again

Synopsis: You were gifted with the ability to mirror other fae's magic with a simple touch and your free spirit nature leads you to cross very close to the borders of a hidden city, where your future best friends and soulmate snatch you out of the sky to protect their border.

Inspired by Who's Afraid of Little Old Me & My Tears Ricochet by Taylor M.F Swift

A/N: Welcome to part two of this dramatic guy! Sorry for the lil wait! Let me know what you think friends!

I think I'm gonna write my first Eris fic hehe

Requests Open

Part 1

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The War with Hybern

You passed through the mist like the shadows of the night that swaddled you, deep south in Prythian, practically in the Mortal Realm. Spring Court had crumbled to the weeds and whims of the High Lady of Night, your mortal enemy that you never met. You drifted from the face of the earth like the ghost Rhysand’s neglect had turned you into, banished to exile from the world that broke your body before breaking your spirit. You adjusted to the loneliness with surprising ease, melting back into the solitary figure you were when taken from the skies above Velaris, your free spirit exchanged for a shattered one. The events of the budding war with Hybern came to your knowledge through the ever-winding grapevine of gossip and tales. The very escapades of your former family and its new members provided you with equal amounts of amusement and worry.

“Bad dog!” You flung your shoe playfully at the great towering beast at the entrance of the cave you were currently occupying, the green-eyed beast released a growl as he dropped the carcass of the freshly slaughtered deer on your doorstep, tracking blood all over the rock. 

“How I love your visits dear YN” He growled before tilting his head slightly and returning to the wild. You and Tamlin now had a shared interest in your hatred of the Night Court’s leadership, his welcome of your travels through the shell of his court for the first time in centuries gave you the flicker of a homily feeling you’d banished from your heart. You used the Spring Court as you had The Middle, as a base of operations before travelling to see every inch of the world you could. He offered to bring you to the countless run-ins he had had with the Court of Dreams as a new war with Hybern began to threaten the peace. You weren’t really sure if it was so much because of Rhysand that it was because of Azriel that you hadn’t returned, the shattered friendship too much to think of. You watched an onyx shadow leak from your knotted knuckles, the last trace of Azriel you had to hold on to. Your shadows pulled along the carcass of the animal, the sight turning something in your stomach. You shuddered slightly, a sense of alarm growing in you at something in your world being tampered with. 

You winnowed to the ruins of the Tamlin’s residence, the shell of once reviled power and grace much like the owner. Traipsing up the steps of the crumbling house, the sound of a male you hadn’t heard from in such a long time rocketed through your system. 

“Rhysand?” You heard your voice speak without making the conscious decision to, Tamlin lifted his head from his hands as he sat at the rotting table, Rhysand spinning with unusual unease at the sound of your voice. 

“YN-” He took a step towards you instinctively, you following your own intuition, stepping back from him. “-You’re here?” “No need for the personal visit High Lord, if you wanted me dead you should have just said” 

“YN, I can’t believe you’re really here” He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised, his best had tracked your movements to the discarded court. 

“Funny, I was going to say the same thing to you. Why are you here?” You chewed out, the ghost of a smirk passing Tamlin's face. 

“Just visiting the High Lord of Spring” “Why? Need him as a weapon? Find value in him now you need him for war games?” Your icy words plummeted the temperature in the room, Rhysands wings slumping. 

“YN, don’t be like that”

“You can leave, Tamlin like many others, do not need you to faux interest in our lives for them to hold value” You circled around the table, running parallel to him across the dissolving oak to land next to Tamlin as he sat back in his chair, quietly smug.

“So, are you in love?” You laughed at his question, Tamlin matching the sound. 

“No, I think you took any ability for me to feel that from me” Rhysand searched your eyes for the way you used to look at him, for any semblance of the female who’d cleave the world apart for him, for any leverage he might still have with you. 

“You’ve made your request Rhysand, go” Tamlin found some ounce of long-dead confidence in him to shun the Lord of Night. 

“Hm” Was all he replied, moving to dissolve but stopping to witness a small shadow leak from your fist, a sign you had potentially seen Azriel recently, not the truth which was that you had kept the shadows with you since you fled, the last connection to a feeling of home. He nodded his head, a small laugh leaving him before vanishing. You pushed the back of Tamlin's chair to turn him to face you in his seat. 

“What request?” “Hybern is preparing to rage a war, he needs further assistance” He practically whispered before standing again and crossing the ruins of the dining room.

“So I was right, he did just want you as a weapon” “Actually-” his hand landed on the heavy door “-He wanted you” Tamlin melted into his beast form once again, leaving you to think through the words, your eyes looking down to the scars the last Lord of Night had left you. 

—--------------------------

You winnowed to a high mountain top you hadn’t graced in some time, your eyes looking upon your formerly beloved home of Velaris, the word home like acid in your throat. You looked towards the Town House, the once monument to your love, a mausoleum to it now. You sighed aloud before turning towards the House of Wind, something calling out to you through the night air, an idea growing in you. the sound of your feet hitting the stone gently filled the library. The dark shrouded you with unnatural warmth as you called quietly into the hollow pit for an old friend of yours. 

“Little mirror, you have returned” “Bry, don’t be coy with me” You could hear the creature of nightmares smile through the shadows.

“What do I owe this long overdue visit my little mirror?” You could feel its energy swirling around you but keeping enough distance so as not to risk you mirroring it. 

“Hybern is planning to attack and I wish to know what side of the aisle you find your wonderful self on” You had thought of your old friend as the perfect addition to a team you had no plan on being directly involved with.

“They have not yet asked my little mirror” The chill of its voice met your skin with a flush of contrasting warmth, inspecting you for any trace of harm.

“When they do, bargain for something of little matter to you that they can’t refuse and then once you have completed your task, go free” “Indeed-” he hummed at your self-assured tone “-why bother trying to help them little mirror?” “Let's say it’s out of habit” you laughed lightly, the wisps of dark air feeling as though a grin could be felt in them. You looked up to the mouth of the pit above you, the faint outlines of bookshelves shrouded in darkness haunting above.

“Ask for a window Bry, you deserve to see the world you will once again grace” Energy graced over your hand in thanks so easy for you to capture and yet it had no value to you T when compared to the sentiment of what you had at your finger tips. The sound of footsteps up above had you jolting slightly, retreating further into the dark so as not to be seen. 

“Be safe friend” You whispered softly before winnowing out of the depths. 

—-----------------------------------------

Shadows sank into the cobblestone as you manifested on the singing streets, your feet felt light along the heavy rock, practically levitating towards your old haunt. You stood at the gate of the Town House, the shadows of the residence dancing across the candlelight in the window, happy fae dancing in the streets as if not in the presence of the creature they turned you into. 

The Town House was decorated to within an inch of its life, banners and streamers flowing freely from every corner as music sang through the house to the garden where the majority of the party was revelling in the moonlight. You followed the radiate path to the garden you’d spent years cultivating, willingly ignoring the changes to decor made by the new Lady of Night. 

You watched the Inner Circle at the bottom of the garden, your former family rejoiced in celebration of the birthday of a fae you only knew through stories of the Hybern War. Nesta glowed in the moonlight. You looked among the now expanded Inner Circle, Azriel noticeably missing as you took another step down the path, Cassian swirled Nesta around, you smiled genuinely at the sight, so happy to see him happy. The smile faded as Rhysand did the same to Feyre before they walked hand in hand to the other side of the garden, your once favourite spot, the perfect view of the Sidra. 

You found your feet taking you in their direction, slightly secluded from the rest of the Inner Circle. The sound of your steps on the soft grass made a silent sound that sent shivers down Rhysand’s spine as he turned to see you standing on top of the slope, staring down at them. 

The music seemingly stopped dead, your appearance at the party stopping the revelry like a record scratch as you spoke-

“Doesn’t look much like a war is nigh right now, now does it?” You clasped your hands in front of you, eyes burning into the former love of your life. 

“YN-I-” “This is YN?” Feyre stepped from behind her mate, her beauty illuminating the path up to you and you hated her for it, you looked around at the world you believed she stole from you but realised as quickly it was Rhysand who had committed the theft.  Feyre moved to close the distance between you both, stepping from her mate's grasp to practically square off to you. You could feel the power radiating from her, so tempting to take but would replace the last scrap of Azriel you had access to. Still, you enjoyed the thought of rattling Rhysand.

“Ah, Feyre, Rhysand’s lovely High Lady of Night, I don’t think we’ve had the displeasure of formally meeting” You outstretched a hand, she instinctively went to take hold of it, and Rhysand immediately pulled her back.

“Don’t let her touch you!” He ordered, some fae looking in your direction at the disturbance to their antics. “Who’s afraid of little old me?” You laughed again, it reverberating off Feyre’s chest

“Don’t go near her” “Where is this hostility coming from Rhysand, I seem to remember it was you who made the first act of aggression” You lifted the small cuff of your sleeve, the hint of a small arrow-shaped scar still marking you centuries later. 

“Leave YN” “You sought me out, I’m returning the visit” Feyre’s head darted towards her mates at the revelation.

“Oh? He didn’t tell you? My my always one for secrets Rhysand” you tsked, circling them as Rhysand’s father once had done to you, a hunter and her prey. 

“YN, I’m am celebrating with my family, if you could extend some courtesy and-” “Courtesy!?-” You scoffed loudly “-You crossed out the good years with me, cursed me the moment I treated you with the same respect you’d given me for years, banished me to the same solitude you used me to escape from! So you don’t deserve courtesy! And now, even when you are mated to pure power, I can tell you wish I stayed, you curse my name wishing I stayed! Your favourite fucking weapon!” Years of repressed anger flooded from you to the space between you and the mates, Rhysands face greying as he clutched onto Feyre’s hand like you may steal her away forever. 

“I-I didn’t do anything to you YN, I just fell into this world, this was hard on everyone” Feyre rattled out, your heated gaze landing on one of the most powerful fae to grace Prythian. You took a deep breath in before speaking again-

“Oh boo freaking hoo-” "You found yourself laughing coldly “-Figure out the Hybern thing by yourselves, I’ve already had enough” You span on the ball of your foot, striding up the very path you had designed to get the best view of the garden. 

“And those new curtains look horrific!” You called back over your shoulder to the mates before reentering the house you wished to burn to the ground with your vitriol. 

-

You returned to the now suffocating air of the Velaris streets, feet bouncing off the cobble as you walked down the hill, your muscle memory bringing you down the way to one of your favourite spots in the city. The moment your mottled shaking hands met the cooling brick of the Sidra’s boundary wall, the tsunami of tears you fought every day since leaving flooded your atmosphere. 

“YN?” Azriel crossed the same bridge you said goodbye to him on those years before, the paper bags containing Mor’s favourite alcohol smashed to the stone floor. The stream of oak-coloured liquid flowed to your shoes. Shadows darted around you like dogs flocking to their owner after a long time apart. You laughed at the feeling of them swirling around you, lightly nipping at your face in their own form of pecks to the cheeks, banishing tears. You managed to open your eyes between their displays of affection to find Azriel standing with pure shock on his face, arms hanging by his sides and wings dipping to match. 

“Am I hallucinating?” “No Az-” You smiled wide through tear-stained cheeks “-I came back to take another strip off of your dear brother” You watched him pinch his arm to ensure he was truly awake. Azriel then flew at you in a similar fashion to his shadows, wrapping his arms around you to practically crack your bones. 

“Az-You’re-suffocating-me” You managed, laughing again once he gave enough of a release to allow your lungs to expand. 

“Why is it every time I find you on this bridge you’re crying?” He wiped a thumb across a stray tear, your crooked hands holding his to your face before they could move back away. 

“I love the drama” you laughed through fresh tears.

“Why are you back YNN?”

“Well, Rhysand came to visit me in Spring Court-” an almost growl left Azriel in response “-and he’s in need of his favourite weapon again” A definite growl left him this time, his hands dropping away from you as he turned to look back up the direction of the Town House.

“I told him to leave you alone, I didn’t track you down for you to be used as-” “You what?” He turned back to your slightly tilting head.

“Well…you went radio silent on me, I had to make sure you were okay-” a shadow clipped his ear somewhat sharply “-We, we had to make sure you were okay. You left us” The last three words tinged with undeniable heartbreak, heartbreak you had felt yourself. “Az, I had to leave”

“But you didn’t have to leave without me” an element of anger leached from him.

“Az” “No, you left! Rhysand might have broken your heart but you obliterated mine! Chipped away at it over centuries” A sharpness never reserved for you cut into your skin with similar pain to what Rhysand’s father had dealt you. 

“Azriel I’m sorr-” “-It broke me every time you chose him and all he did was tolerate you! Tolerate the love I so desperately wanted! And now I watch as he gives Feyre even a fraction of everything you deserved and I hate that I didn’t fight harder for you! I hate it! Hate how he  weaponised and ruined the love of my life!” His raised tone bounced off the flowing waters of the Sidra, the sound of his century's worth of repressed resentment tumbling out of him like the small waves hitting the boundary wall. 

“YOU SAID YOU WANTED ME TO BE HAPPY EVEN IF IT MEANT RUNNING AWAY FROM ALL THIS!” “BUT I THOUGHT YOU’D TAKE ME WITH YOU”

“I SHOULD HAVE! I FUCKING SHOULD HAVE!" You roared back, an onyx shadow of your own making curling around your vibrating fists, Azriel’s eyes shot towards them, his hand taking a gentle firm hold on your wrist before you could bolt out of his life again.

“You’re still mirroring me” he whispered so softly you thought you imagined it.

“Yeah… it was all I had left connecting me to you, to my home, to someone who would always do more than just tolerate my love” You returned the words with equal tenderness, eyes fixating on your shadows swirling into his, your eyes illuminating like they hadn’t since first landing on Azriel’s. His hand slipped from your wrist to your hand, chasms and fissures of equal cruelty knitting into one another so the skin may feel whole again.

“YN! You don’t get to leave like that!” Your heads moved in unison to look up towards an enraged Rhysand, you released Azriel’s hand on sight.

“You don’t control where I do and don’t go anymore Rhys” you chewed back.

“I am regretful for what happened and how it happened but don’t let the little incident that happened between us stop you from defending your people!”

“Little incident?” Your chilled laugh returned, a shiver running down Azriel at the sound. 

“YN, be sensible here” Rhysand has his arms out as though trying to corral an animal as he steps towards you, Azriel instinctively standing between the two of you. 

“YNN is entitled to spend the rest of her life how she wants to, she owes us nothing” His hardened stare cut through his brother, shadows swirling around his feet.

“Az, we need her power to-” “-We need her to be happy, Rhysand. That’s what we always should have needed of her, we owe her everything. You took no issue in me destroying those who destroyed me, she should be given that option, even now” Azriel spoke with clear conviction, the words causing Rhysand to purse his lips in thought. 

“If she doesn’t join then she will succeed in destroying us by not helping us” He looked around Azriel to you, your thoughts racing at the words. You stepped back from the two brothers, your shoes crushing the glass of the smashed bottles. 

“Follow your own past decisions Rhys and don’t follow me” You dissolved in front of the two as they began to argue once again. 

—------------------------------------------------------------------

That day you watched Tamlin ready what little forces he had, the thought of your former family defending your homeland without your intervention ultimately being your deciding factor to join. That and the thought of giving Rhysand any semblance of moral high ground. 

You transversed the battlefield in a shielded shadow, blasting the enemy as you flew alongside the Illyrian-winged warriors. A blood-curdling call of a female you didn’t know drew your attention downward as Cassian flew down past you towards her, too fueled with adrenaline to notice you follow closely as sudden strikes of pure cauldron power shot down and destroyed the warriors you had just flown alongside. You landed on the battlefield with such force it split the soil, Cassian’s head turning towards you rapidly locking eyes on you as you both found yourselves smiling at one another. 

“YN, you came!” “I miss you Cass, stay alive” You called back before bolting back into the now-cleared skies as more and more warriors rose to replace the fallen. From above, you covered Feyre unbeknownst to her, the collective goal having more importance in this moment. You watch as she reaches the cauldron with Amren allowing you to double back and continue your onslaught. Rhysand’s true beast form rises from the ground and you feel a bolt of fear at the pure sight of him. You swoop down to meet his side as he tears into the enemy, Helion dashing to join his side as he reforms himself into his beastly counterpart. 

“YN!!!” Rhysand roars down to you as you sprint around him, you leap on top of a razor-sharp talon as he shoots towards the sky, your knotty hand pressing into the scales of the High Lord. The feeling of familiar pure unadulterated power coursed through your veins, never did you think you’d mirror the High Lord again, the traces of betrayal tinging the power as it blasted from your outstretched hands to mist a sizable amount of enemy forces. Bryaxis coursed around you, shielding you from any retaliation as Rhysand and Helion unleashed on the battlefield. 

“I have to get to Feyre!” You hear Rhysand screech out as you cover him along his way towards his mate, the shift in the air undeniable as Amren is released from her bindings. You defend the space the cauldron occupies, allowing Rhysand to rush to Feyre’s side. Something cracks deep in you as you hear the High Lady of Night shriek in pure pain, fearing Rhysand has taken his final breath. You winnow to Tamlin as he sinks tendrils of power into some stragglers of the Hybern arm. 

“Tam! With me!” He has no hesitation in taking your hand, you winnow with him to where the cauldron claimed its price, Feyre begging for help from the High Lords. A chill shoots up your spine, rattling your bones. Your face hardened before you reached for Helion’s hand, mirroring his energy before you sank back into the shadows, following your own thread to land alongside Azriel, his wings in tatters as you dropped to his side. 

“YNN” he writhed out in pain, your arms encapsulating him, you feel Helion's power course through you as you attempt to heal him back to whole, your own body crying out in pain from the events of the war.

“It’s okay Azriel I’m here, I’m here” Your tears fell into his hair as you clung his head to your chest, his own heartbeat struggling to match yours. The light flowed across your disjointed digits, stitching the centuries-old wounds together as it poured into Azriel.

“I wish I didn’t let you leave that night YN” “I wish I didn’t leave you that night” You cried out, gently rocking him back and forth, his hand landing on your forearm to hold you closer. 

“I wish to carry a piece of you with me forever YNN”

“You can have all of me Azriel” You stretched down to meet his lips before he used what little energy he had to lean in, fully surrendering to every dream he dreamt of you from the moment you pulled the knife from his wing centuries ago. The glow that radiated from your energy returned and Azriel once again wished to bask in it for the rest of his days. His torn flesh stitched together as the healing energy flowed between the two of you. The feeling of home you never thought you’d have again blazed through every cell until it was just you, Azriel and shadows of onyx mirroring one another's endless hope for the future. 

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Whatcha think?

Tag: @saltedcoffeescotch @popcornlauncher @notepaper @panther-girl-124 @mirandasidefics @slightlyjaded @moonlwghts @tsunami-of-tears

[azsazz]

Winter Winds

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Anon req: ik you probably won’t get to this in a while but i just read “in ribbons” and absolutely loved it!! got me so hot and bothered. anyway, thinking abt az, reader, and the kids got me thinking…what if the entire ic and their kids are all at wind haven for some trip or something. the oldest kids are pre teens, a bit older maybe. while at the camps, someone attacks the reader and she’s like seriously hurt. like seriously seriously hurt. az goes ballistic, and all the kids get so worried. but especially the older ones, maybe wren baz and zuzu, they get super angry and want to help az get revenge for their mother? 

Warnings: Injury, mentions of blood and gore. Traumatized children but they are otherwise unharmed.

Word Count: 4,921

Notes: You didn’t think I forgot about posting today, did you? Silly. I didn’t make them pre-teens, they’re I guess a bit younger than that but close, but I think I’ve got most of the idea in here, except the revenge part. Sorry about that and sorry in advance this one’s kinda sad.

_________________________________________

“Daddy?!”

His son’s frantic voice slices up his spine like an icy blade, plunging deep and cleaving him in half.

At the sound, Azriel’s body flashes hot with adrenaline and everything else slows to a crawling pace.

He spins on his heel instantly, ignoring the grumbling of the camp warlord who’d been reporting to him, now muttering under his breath about letting his savage brood run wild in the camps, that he doesn’t know how to raise them.

His family means more to him than anything, and that terrified shout from his son to grab his attention isn’t one he’s heard in years.

Something is very very wrong.

Azriel’s heart stammers in his chest like the frantic beat of wings in war when he locks eyes with his second oldest son, Baz.

He shouldn’t be out here alone, even if he has been in the training camps for nearly two years now and knows his way around. If any of the warriors had grabbed him and thought to teach the Azriel a lesson through his child…the spymaster shivers at the thought.

The more pressing concern, the one that makes his brows twitch into confusion and fuels his feet forward and nearly halts his heart in his chest, is that young Baz isn’t dressed for the cold. The Illyrian mountains in the peak of Winter could give even the most attuned warrior frostbite in mere minutes, and Baz isn’t even wearing a coat.

Worse yet, there’s tears streaming down his ruddy cheeks, cherry red from his journey.

He must’ve run the entire way to meet him in boots that are untied and tripping him in his haste to find his father. If someone’s stolen his jacket Azriel will be the last thing they see as he–

Azriel’s slipping out of his own coat, uncaring that the snaps rip open by the base of his wings. He needs to get his son bundled up, and quickly, before he comes down with something worse than the cold Azriel already knows is in his future. He scoops Baz into his arms, wrapping him carefully and hugging him close to his chest. His shadows swirl around both of them, already preparing to winnow them away.

“What’s wrong buddy?” he’s whispering, wiping the tears from his son's bruning face. Sometimes he and his older brother will get into arguments that have one of the boys running to Azriel in a fit full of tears but never something quite like this. Baz knows how to put his coat and tie up his boots and not to run across the camp alone–

The little boy in his arms releases a sob that nearly shatters the snowy peaks of the mountains surrounding them, “Mommy–”

He doesn’t need to continue. Azriel winnows them back to the house without a second thought, hugging Baz tightly to his chest, lips pressed to the crown of his sweaty black hair. He hopes that his son can’t feel him trembling, fisting his hands in his coat to stop the shaking. If something has happened to you he doesn’t know what he will do. How he will survive.

But he would’ve felt it, if there was something wrong, through the bond you share. He lets his shields slide down, reaching out for that golden thread, the one that feels like warm summer winds in the night sky, your hand caressing his soul.

There’s nothing.

Azriel gives a sharp tug but receives no response as he and his son arrive in a mass of black shadows on the front porch. The bond grows more taut with worry the more he tries, desperate pleas for you to respond that go unanswered as he shoves the door open with a heavy boot. 

The house is in complete chaos.

His shadows scatter immediately, searching and returning with whispers of bloody fingerprints on the counter top, streaking across the wall in his bedroom, on the doorknob to the bathroom, while he frantically searches the room for the rest of his children.

Horror coils his gut at the scent of his mate’s blood, thick in the air. It makes him choke, hot and heavy in the back of his throat.

Azriel sets Baz down, nearly tearing the door off of its hinges when he shuts it and turns the lock. He allows himself a single drawn out breath while his mind reels for a plan of action.

Wren looks more worried than his little brother, though Azriel knows that his eldest is trying his best to keep his emotions together for his siblings.

He had a screaming Jax in his arms, the younger boy clearly distraught about the heightened feelings of anxiety and concern smothering him. He reaches up for Azriel as Wren carries the struggling babe closer, trying his best to keep hold of his brother.

“Dad,” Wren breathes a sob of relief, but Az notes the twins in their playpen, Malos’ cries are loud enough for the silent wailing babe beside her, four sets of tiny hands curled around the brim of the pen with white knuckled fingers.

“Wren, I need you to watch your siblings for a little bit longer, okay?” Azriel’s voice is strained with tension as he calls out to Rhysand in his head, his golden eyes a hair wider as he searches the room for Zuzu. He rubs a reassuring thumb across Wren’s cheek and over Jax’s hair, trying to calm the little boy down. “Uncle Rhys and Uncle Cass will be here any minute, alright bub? They’re going to take us all to the River House.”

Wren’s lip quivers but he’s squaring his shoulders as he looks up at his father, “Mommy’s hurt.”

“I know,” it pains him to say it, but by now he knows, “I’m going to get her, will you and Baz help the little ones put on their shoes please?”

Wren nods and sets to work helping his father while Azriel rushes towards the bathroom where his shadows have located both Zuzu and you.

He finds Zuzu is sitting in front of the bathroom door, banging on it as she wails for you. Her throat must be raw from the screaming because she sounds horse, tears dripping down her face and snot bubbling from her nose.

Azriel hears Rhys and Cassian appear in the living room, and he lifts Zuzu up from under her arms as Cassian appears, his first thought to help his brother.

“Az–” Cassian sounds nervous for his brother. When he’d gotten the call a short time ago telling him that he and Rhys needed to pick up the children because something had happened to you his heart dropped, terrified for his best friend.

“Just take her, please,” Azriel pleads, letting the worry he feels coat his words. His throat is tight with emotion and he doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be able to keep himself from going berserk because he can see the red painted handprint on the brass knob and the smell of your blood is overpowering.

“I’ve got her,” Cassian nods, and the look in his hazel eyes gives Azriel brings forth that last shred of hope as his brother turns away and he twists the knob.

His knees nearly give out at the sight of you, unconscious and lying in a pool of your own blood. You look paler under the luminescent faelights, the hand holding together the gaping wound in your side now slack in the puddle of crimson.

Your name is a cry of helplessness on his lips as he dives forward, knees cracking against the tiles as he slides closer, pressing his fingers to the pulse point in your neck and caressing your face with the other, a shaky hand brushing the hair back from your face.

His shadows have alerted him that you’re breathing, but barely so, and he releases a shaky breath because he wasn’t able to feel the barely there beat of your pulse beneath his fingers with how badly they’re desensitized from his own burns and the pounding of his own heart.

But Gods–the gash in your side is something a warrior would receive in battle, like you have taken a long sword to the side, your flesh tearing open, muscles and blood and–

No, he doesn’t want to think about whether he sees an organ or not. No, he needs to focus on stopping the bleeding. Azriel can’t help but think, his beautiful mate…who has done this to you?

Rhys and Cass both appear within seconds, having called for the best healers in Velaris to the River House, where his children now are, under the care of the High Lady and Inner Circle themselves.

“Az,” Rhysand murmurs, hardly louder than a simple breath as he takes in the state of the room. His spymaster, on his knees in a pool of your blood as he tries his best to stop the bleeding. The towel you had grabbed is already sopping wet with blood and there’s no signs of it slowing.

His wings are drooped low behind him, the slippery warmth of the floor against the thin velvety skin is a reminder of exactly how much blood you have lost.  Had he been any later, had you not sent Baz–

“Help me.”

It makes both brothers freeze, the utter helplessness, the devastation in Azriel’s voice, so small, so soft, unlike anything they’ve ever heard.

They jump into action.

“Az,” Cassian approaches him like he’s approaching a wild beast, unsure of how to approach this side of him, soft footing and hands raised in surrender. The spymaster lets his brother place a hand on his shoulder, turn him from his spot so that they’re looking at each other.

Cassian has never seen Azriel so panicked, not in the 500 years they’ve been best friends. Not through the wars, the nightmares, the births…not even through the mild complications you’d gone through when the twins were born. No, he was a solid wall, not an ounce of emotion had cracked through the barriers he had built, but this…

His chest heaves with every breath he takes, short and quick and filled with anxiety. Azriel’s hands are vibrating when Cassian takes them in his own. He doesn’t care that he’s kneeling in your blood, that Az’s hands are slippery with it, all he cares about are his friends.

“Az,” he tries again, and the usual honeyed gaze of the shadowsingers meets his own. He’d startled him. Can see the swirling emotions racing behind his eyes; the hatred, the scared, the utter fear, his mind unable to grasp onto one feeling long enough to put thought into it. “We’re going to take you to the River House, okay?”

He’d carry him if he had to, but Rhys can get the job done. There’s worry that Azriel might explode, break completely in his hands and let the beast within him finally take over. And if that happens, he’s glad the children are far away, because no one, not even Cassian nor Rhysand, will stop him from turning the Illyrian camps into nothing more than a tornado of black mist.

Azriel isn’t seeming to comprehend what he’s saying, head tilting down to look at where his hands rest in Cassian’s grip, thumb sliding through the cooling blood on his hands like it’s not the ichor of his mate, painting his hands the color of Cassian’s siphons.

Rhys comes around the both of them, crouching to place a hand on each of their shoulders. The wisps of darkness that carry them through the planes of the continent must strike something within Azriel because he’s tensing under his touch and wrenching away.

“Az,” Rhys commands softly, hands raised to show no sign of wanting to corral his brother’s anger, “The babes are right in there.”

The reaction from his statement is near instant, locking down his emotions little by little like the scales of his armor retracting into his leathers, until there is almost nothing left.

Azriel spins on his heel, already heading towards the shut door between him and the muffled cries of his children on the other side.

Cassian steps into his path, stopping him. 

He watches the spymaster assess him with a trained eye but Cassian’s already weighed his brother's reactions in his head, being a true warlord himself. There is no way he will let the children see their father like this, worked up with their mother’s blood all over them.

Rhys draws the attention of the shadowsinger again, both Illyrians goading him like a tiger waiting to strike, “(Y/N) is this way. She’s with Madja and her best healers.”

The sound of your name strikes him low, chest caving and reaching down the bond for you again, knowing there will be no response, a wall of icy metal stopping him from entering.

Azriel glances at the door again, but makes his way towards the room you’ve been hauled off to, worried for your wellbeing.

The saliva is thick in his mouth as he ascends the stairs, his brothers tight on his flanks. His hands are curled into tight fists and he can feel the cracking of your blood on his hands in a way that would normally be calming if it were anyone else's blood, but not yours.

Never yours.

He pushes into the room and doesn’t look at the wound or the few nursemaids that are crouching over you. He doesn’t look at the bowls of water stained crimson, the towels dripping or the clothes they’d cut you out of, he keeps his focus on your closed eyes.

He’s quick to find his place at your side, perching out of the way as he reaches for your hand but freezes when he catches sight of his own.

“Here,” Cassian’s soft voice has him looking up, the warlord holding a freshly damp rag for him to take, not even a touch of red on it.

His throat works against a swallow as Azriel takes it, scrubbing his hands like he’s the one who’d rubbed his skin down to the bone and left these scars.

He does the best that he can without spiraling. He’s had blood on his hands before, many times, but the fact that it’s your blood has him reeling, immediately stopping the work on cleaning his own hands in favor of helping you clean yours.

When he’s done he hands it back to Cassian who gives him a soft nod and a sad smile. Neither are the things he wants to see right now. All he wants to see is you opening your eyes and looking at him, smiling, laughing, unharmed.

There’s nothing else to do but wait, which he does so quietly, stroking his thumb across your forehead while his other keeps your limp hand firmly tucked in his grasp. 

He doesn’t look at the wound they’re stitching up, but he can’t help himself from reaching down the bond every few minutes, silently praying to the Mother that you will respond.

His brothers wait by the door. Rhys lets Cassian get cleaned up and check on the children while he watches Azriel from across the room, his own heart aching for his brother in this situation, to be near his own mate at a time like this.

But he stays put because that’s what any of them would do for each other, even when Cassian comes back, hands clean and clothes new, no traces of your blood on him.

They know that there will be no moving Azriel from your side to clean up, so they don’t even try. When Feyre dips her head into the room, catching a glance at you and your mate on the lone bed, a handful of healers working frantically around, they share a look.

It’s Rhys who approaches him this time, making sure his footsteps are heard by the shadowsinger as he nears.

He watches Azriel’s shoulders pull up taut, his spine stiffening and shadows curling his rounded ear that the High Lord is approaching.

His golden gaze is a harsh glare, a warning to stay away, and although Rhys understands the look, it still hurts.

“Az, maybe you should get cleaned up,” he suggests softly, keeping a healthy distance away from the bed. The healers have started sewing up your wound, having been able to stop the blood and stabilize you, and their work will be done soon.

The shadowsinger’s face doesn’t change as he looks back down at you, dismissing Rhys with that single action.

“The kids,” he tries, “They’re worried. They want to see you.” 

Azriel nearly startles at the mention of his children. They’d been half scared to death when he’d last seen them, frantic and worried about their mother just as much as he was. He can see them all clearly, Wren trying to be strong, Baz’s red face wet with tears, Zuzu and Jax and the twins all crying out for help, understanding that something was horribly wrong.

“The kids,” he murmurs, as if he’s not even there. Azriel pets your hair again, smoothing his fingers down your cheek, across your lips, finding their way to the juncture of your jaw and throat, where your pulse is.

Rhysand waits with a baited breath as Azriel counts, comes to whatever conclusion in his mind that he can, grasping for some sort of sign that you might be okay.

The beating of your heart is constant, evened out even though one of the nurses has already told him as much. He won’t leave you if he doesn’t think you’ll be okay.

But he knows you would want him to make sure the children are okay, so he places a kiss on your hand, ignoring how the warmth hasn’t quite returned to it completely, before settling it comfortably at your side and standing from the bed.

He follows his brothers from the room and as soon as the door snicks shut behind him and the wail of Zuzu is carried to him on the whisper of a shadow, he breaks.

He makes a break for his children, his flight sense kicking in but he’s hauled backwards into the arms of Cassian, holding him tightly across the chest as he struggles. 

If he were in his right mind he’d be able to figure a way out of his hold.

“Az, you have blood all over you,” Cassian grits, his breath puffing with the struggle of keeping Azriel in his hold. He’s writhing like an animal, trying to tear his way through whomever he needs to to get to his family. “You can’t go in there like this. You’ll scare them.”

That makes him stop struggling, worming his way out of Cassian’s touch.

“But Baz didn’t have a jacket on–”

“He’s already been looked at by a healer,” Rhys supplies, trying to calm the skittish shadowsinger.

“And Zuzu’s been screaming her head off,” he retorts just as easily, mind reeling at how his children must be feeling.

“She’s been given a soothing tea for her throat,” Cassian adds, fiercely protective of them as he is his own children.

“And Jax–”

“Jax is an empath,” Rhys agrees, ushering Azriel towards the other end of the hallway, “And it’s normal for him to react like that with all of the emotions running rampant in the room at the time. You need to calm yourself down if you are to hold him, your reactions will harm him more than Wren’s. For now he’s fine. They’re all okay, Azriel. Here and in one piece, waiting for you.”

Azriel’s wide eyes are glossy as he looks between his brothers, back and forth as if he’s searching for anything other than the truth there.

He won’t.

“They’re okay?” he asks again, not quite sure he believes it.

Both of his brothers nod, “They’re okay Az. Promise.”

.·:·.☽ ✦ ☾.·:·.

You feel like utter shit.

Like you’ve been carved down to the bone with a blade. There’s a pounding in your head and when you open your eyes the room spins, bright with light. Your head goes with it, the whispers of words striking like a bell tower to your brain.

“(Y/N)?”

That voice silences everything.

You squeeze his hand, blinking against the faelights until the three Azriel’s you see finally become one, perfect, mate.

“Az,” you breathe.

He bites his lip, hardly able to contain the relief he feels in this moment. He knows you’ve just opened your eyes but he’s squeezing his shut tight and resting his forehead gently against your own.

And the bond floods with warmth, his breath catching in his throat.

“I’m here,” your free hand finds his hair, smoothing through it the best that you can in your weakened state, “I’m here, Love.”

He nearly whimpers, would have if his mind hadn’t gone immediately into spymaster mode, seeing you awake.

He pulls away from you all too quickly, sitting straight in his spot beside you, the golden glow of his iris’ swimming with dark shadows.

“Who.” he asks, and it’s not a question. It’s the only word he can get out, voice dipped in steel and as sharp as the blade he’s been filing for the days you’ve been under rest.

“Some old relative,” you cough, throat dry, and you hiss at the pull in your stitches. Azriel is quick to help you drink some water down, soothing the roughness in your voice and the pounding in your head. “Claimed to be so, at least.”

“Fucking bastards,” he spits, the shadows in his eyes sweeping into hot, angry flames, “I’ll kill every single fucking one of them.”

“Az,” you sigh. You love your mate dearly and this is about as normal a reaction as you would expect from him, but you’re so achingly tired. “Are the kids okay?”

He shudders at the thought of something happening to your children and kisses across your knuckles, your hand in his shaking ones. 

“Yes, the babes are fine.”

You settle a bit more, knowing that truth. The fact that Azriel has referred to them as babes shows you just how terrified he truly is.

“How are you feeling?” he whispers, propping his chin where your hand is holding his.

“Tired,” you offer, because you’re afraid that a joke might push him over the edge. “Can I see my babies?”

Azriel looks like he might protest. You’ve been changed and brought to a different room once the painkillers and healing drinks the nurses had forced down your throat had begun to work, but he thinks of his rowdy children and your fresh injury, he worries for you.

But you’re pleading, “Please, Love. I need to see them.” And he gets it.

Because he finds himself needing to see them as well.

“Drink some more water, tell me what happened, and I’ll get Rhys to bring them in.”

You hold his gaze, nodding finally. 

Azriel helps you drink some more water, nearly a whole glass before you begin.

“I was on my way back from the mercantile,” you start, swallowing harshly as you wrack your brain for what had happened. “Just a quick trip to get some treats for the little ones,” you laugh dryly, tears welling up in your eyes. Azriel’s quick to thumb them away, caressing your cheek with his warm hand.

“I didn’t see him coming until it had already happened,” you admit shamefully. Your mate had taught you better than that and you had failed him.

Your mate sends nothing but warmth down the bond because while you may have been taken by surprise, he knows you didn’t go down without a fight.

“I didn’t understand how bad it was until after he was laying in the snow next to me and I looked at my torn coat and saw all the blood.”

You remember crying out as his blade slashed across your body and took you to your knees. You’d been able to act through the pain, kicking a foot out behind you and sweeping your attackers feet from under him. 

It was easier to pry the longsword from his hands when he was gasping for air and even easier to make sure he never took another breath again.

“I don’t remember getting home,” you exhale a shaky breath, “I was just holding my side and there was so much blood Az, so much blood.”

He shushes you softly, upset with himself that he’s asked you to share this story. If he had known your attacker was dead he wouldn’t have asked and before he can try and stop you you’re already continuing.

“I was afraid to go home,” you admit, and his hand clutches yours tighter, “I didn’t want the babes to see me like this.”

Your admission hangs over the both of you, loud in the otherwise silent room.

“I’m glad you did,” Azriel’s voice is thick with emotion, “If you hadn’t and I had lost you…”

“You didn’t,” you reassure, maybe for the both of you, “Let’s not think about that.”

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever be able to think about anything else but he nods, agreeing.

“I hid it the best I could, but you know Wren,” the thought of your oldest brings a smile to your face, “He’s so smart, that one. I told him to watch the babes for me while I went to clean up and he tried to talk to me, tried to ask me what was wrong but I just kept going, telling him that I was fine and would be out in a minute…” you trail off because you weren’t out in a minute. On the floor unconscious in a minute more like.

Azriel kisses your knuckles, lingering on your fourth finger before he answers, “He told Baz to come get me. I was talking to a commander and he came running up screaming and crying out for me. Scared me shitless I tell ya. Didn’t even have a coat on.”

Your eyes bulge and you try to sit up, distressed over your son out in the mountains without a coat, “Is he–'' your question is cut off by a hiss and Azriel’s on his feet guiding you back down onto the bed, gentle hands on your shoulders. 

“He’s alright, Love. They all are. Got them all checked on while they were helping you. Not even a sniffle,” Azriel soothes. He relaxes when your shoulders droop and you settle back into the pillows.

“Thank you,” you whisper, thumb brushing across his knuckles, “I love you.”

“I love you too, (Y/N). So fucking much,” he breathes, shuddering when you caress his cheek.

You tug on him weakly, puckering your lips for a kiss that he easily ducks down for, the tension melting away from his body now that you’re awake in his arms.

“Can I see them now?” you ask as soon as you pull away. Your mate huffs playfully, already calling out to Rhys in his mind.

The door slams open, Wren and Baz racing into the room with the Inner Circle hot on their heels. Rhys is holding Zuzu, Feyre’s hugging Jax close to his chest while Cassian and Nesta each hold a babe, their own boys trailing in behind them.

Azriel shoots to his feet, catching his two oldest sons around their waists before they can launch themselves at you.

“Mommy,” Wren cries from his father’s grasp and Baz bursts out into tears at the sight, reaching over Azriel’s shoulder for you.

“Az, let them go,” you scold lightly, but caress the bond, thankful for stopping them before another injury could happen.

“Boys, you need to be gentle with mommy, okay?” Az holds each of their arms, making sure that his order has been received by each son before slowly letting them go.

They’re both on your uninjured side, Baz tumbling into your arms. He climbs up onto the bed and you hold him close, letting him cry into the crook of your shoulder, reaching out for Wren with tears in your own eyes.

“Hi baby,” you whisper, voice thick.

“Mom,” he breaks, tears spilling as he climbs up next to Baz, letting you run your fingers through his hair.

You bite your lip, holding your boys as close as you can, before looking around the room at the rest of your children, your family. 

Each one is looking at you with smiles, some pained, some relieved, some teary, and you know that if something had gone wrong, that your children would be in the best of hands.

Your teary gaze slides back to your mate. He hadn’t looked away from you while you were taking everyone in, seeming to know exactly where your mind had just been. But he doesn’t want to think about that right now, all he wants is to hold you and his children as close as he can, forever and always.

Cassian hands Knox off to Azriel as he rounds the bed to your injured side, taking the spot next to you to block your injury as he gestures to his brothers and their mates to bring forward the rest of your children.

Let us know if you need any help, Rhys speaks to Azriel and the shadowsinger nods, looking at you with the babes all curled in close, hugging each other tight.

He knows they won’t leave you now, but he doesn’t care because everyone is here together, in one piece.

One big family.

[lavenderdreamsandwritings]

mornings with rhysand

As the morning lights filters in through the window, you begin to stir. When you open your eyes you notice the wings that are wrapped around you, as well as the dark haired man in front of you. A blush spreads across your cheeks as you think about the night you shared. Rhys notices your movements, and pulls you closer to him. You tilt your head up and place a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose, smiling to yourself. Rhysand mumbles something that sounds like, "g'morning darling." "Good morning my love," you say while giggling.

Rhysand's eyes fully open as he looks down at you, a warm smile taking over his face. "Shall we head down for breakfast?" With a flirty look on your face, you respond, "How about a bath and then breakfast?" He nods his head in agreement and then rises out of the bed. You take a moment to look at him, his wings stretching out before they come to rest against his back. He turns and reaches out to grab your hand, walking towards the bathroom with you.

Entering the bathroom, you lean down to turn on the faucet and jump as he gives you a playful smack on the rear. "Bubbles?" you say while looking back at him. "Of course," he smirks and reaches down under the sink. "We have lavender, vanilla, and a citrus blend. Which would you prefer?" You sigh and say, "Hmmm. You choose." "Lavender it is." He pours the bubble mixture into the faucet and you both watch as the tub fills with bubbles.

You are the first to step into the tub, pulling him in behind you. He sits down and spread his legs so that you can sit between them. You plop down and hand him the shampoo. "Can you wash my hair for me?" He grins, "Lazy woman." You playfully smack his arm. "It's your fault for taking such good care of me." He squeezes the bottle and rubs his hands together to lather up the shampoo before running it through your strands. His nails gently scrape along your scalp before he cups water in his hands and rinses out the shampoo. You two switch places and you wash his hair.

He opens the drain and you both step out to get dressed for the day. You wear your favorite dress, deep blue in color and silky to the touch. He selects a pair of black pants and a form-fitting shirt that accentuates his wings which are currently tucked behind him. You place a gentle kiss on his lips and you both head downstairs to spend the rest of the morning together.

authors note: this is my first time writing anything, so i'm sorry if it's too slow or if i didnt add enough dialogue. i was scared to write smut but might be open to it in the future. constructive criticism is definitely appreciated :) <3 send in requests!

[azsazz]

😅���😏

Then Go (Part II of II)

Cassian x Reader, in which Cassian leaves the Night Court to be with you. I don't think you guys are expecting this ending lol but it was pretty fun to write, not reflective of my thoughts on Tamlin's redemption arc ;) @azsazz came up with the ending (surprise surprise lol)

Part I here!

Word Count: 5.8K

Warnings: fighting (forgive the fight scene ok I hate those), character death

The flight back to Spring was tense. 

You and Cassian had only ever had a few arguments over the past couple years - petty squabbles, pointless arguments, superficial bickering - the two of you never had anything to truly fight about. Not that you were fighting, really, but he hadn’t spoken more than six sentences - fragments - in the past few hours. 

Even when you two had been at odds, Cassian never shied away; in fact, the male became even more vocal, if that was even possible, always voicing his thoughts and opinions, quipping at you with smartass remarks or snarky comments. 

But he hadn’t been speaking; it was… new to you. He came back to his bedchamber utterly beat. And you felt bad, deciding while he was gone talking to Rhys that you’d still pretend you were mad when he came back, sitting back against the headboard with your arms crossed over your chest, just as he left you - you’d let him make it up to you, make you forget all about his friends’ behavior. It was selfish of you, you realized, but Cassian would have been all too eager. 

Despite the minimal experience you’d had living with the mating bond, you knew immediately that something was wrong. Normally you felt butterflies through the bond, a fluttering beat, the warm compassion your mate sent you. You’d felt it gone cold, empty while he trained in the war camps, too afraid that it would be a distraction that could cost him his life, or that others could find out and use it against him - or you.

You’d never been in a fight, never served in the war - not like he had, protecting his friends, family, even mere strangers. You didn’t bear scars - not in the way he did, marking up each limb, mangled gashes that lingered over his neck and face, adorned every inch of his wings. He was a male that sacrificed far more than you ever thought possible, and had been on the brink of death too many times to count (too many times than you felt comfortable with, honestly). 

But the pain you’d felt that evening in the Night Court - it was the closest thing you could imagine to that pain, to the pain of being torn apart and your corpse cast aside. You felt your heart breaking, the string pulling so hard you thought you might throw up right on the bed. 

He needed help. 

You couldn’t even clamber to your feet fast enough as he appeared in the doorway, silent - so quiet that even the spymaster himself would have been proud. Barely any words were spoken, just a hauntingly sad glance exchanged between the two of you. It would have been better off if he hadn’t said anything at all. His voice sliced through the air, despite how quiet his words were. His voice was gruff, throat horse - not like the groggy Cassian, tired and not ready to wake up, it wasn’t the sad Cassian, voice cracking and strained. It must have been anger, the irate side of the male you had yet to see up close. “Let’s go.”

It was all he said, tone clipped and terse, that sent chills down your spine - and through the bond. 

You were quick to scramble to your feet, almost afraid to approach the male in his livid state. He appeared calm, arms stiff at his sides, but seething, chest rising and falling steadily, forced. Cassian was seeing red; he himself didn’t even know he had that amount of self restraint. 

And you’d felt bad - he’d wanted to introduce you to his friends - his family - since virtually the first day you met. 

So you weren’t fighting, but you felt guilty for letting him take you to Night. It was a fear you didn’t share with the male - not fully really. 

“What if they don’t like me?” What if they don’t like where I come from? 

Cassian brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “They’ll love you as I do, (Y/N).” His voice was nothing above a whisper, no hesitation, no doubt, no fear behind his reply.

You had a feeling they wouldn’t approve of your Spring heritage - hell, the prejudice of the Night Court Fae ran high in Spring, too. Many of the goers in your own home court didn’t like the fact an Illyrian soldier lingered in their court - you surely figured the Night Court would feel the same about you. It didn’t matter to any of them - Spring or Night - that the two of you were fated mates. He hadn’t cared about those strangers in Spring who passed him on the street - but you didn’t have an Inner Circle like his: friends and family that would protect him at any cost, even if that meant leaving his mate. 

Cassian chose you, though. Despite the faux protection Rhysand and Feyre offered him - they left him with the sour options. They were prepared for him to leave, they knew he would; otherwise, they wouldn’t have given him the choice. 

And you didn’t dare say those words, the ones you knew Cassian was waiting for you to utter: I told you so. 

That would hurt too much. 

You didn’t want to be right. Never in any world would you have wished this pain on your mate - the same pain he’d gone through however many years ago when his mother died, when he was teased endlessly in the camps about being a bastard. 

And hundreds of years later, he found himself in the same position: outcast, ostracized by his so-called family. 

The only thing that kept him sane was you - clinging to him for dear life as he raced through the courts back to Spring. You didn’t question him, but he knew you quietly understood what had happened between him and the High Lord and High Lady of his home court. He felt your panic through the bond once he’d left that conversation, answering the royalty of the court by turning on his heel and leaving. 

Nobody had tried to stop him, either.

Rhys and Feyre did not protest as the male made his way from the room. Not a peep from Morrigan or the other Archeron sisters, who were no doubt listening from the doorway. Cassian felt Lucien lingering, though, Cassian supposed he would be the one male who understood. Amren was nowhere to be seen, Azriel missing as well.

But a shadow swirled around Cassian’s ankle as he ascended the stairs back to his bedroom, a silent promise from his brother that he’d be visiting soon. 

Cassian had often been jealous of both of his brothers’ winnowing abilities - he hadn’t felt that way since he was a young male. But he had wished for nothing more in that moment, so he didn’t have to tread down the long halls with his tail tucked between his legs, a hound kicked out of his home. 

He landed not-so-gracefully at your front door, knees buckling as he staggered forward, trying his damndest to protect you from the force of impact. The dirt from the street kicked up around you, the dark muck swirling around you - Cassian wished it’d swallow him whole.

He didn’t know what to do. His younger self wanted to fly off without a trace, far north of Windhaven or the other Illyrian camps, punishing himself in the cold. He’d pick a fight with the largest tree he could find, punching the thick bark until his knuckles bled and his fingers broke. He’d fly low and fast, so close to the icy river that flecks of freezing water pricked his skin as the waves crashed through the ice shards below him. 

But you were there in his arms, limbs wrapped tightly around him, probably afraid he’d drop you. He flew so fast - he wasn’t sure he’d ever gone that fast while carrying another Fae in his arms, especially not one with such little flying experience. Your face was pressed tightly against his neck, your nose was cold from the windchill that graced the both of you. 

Cassian stood there, frozen, right in the middle of the village. He didn’t move - he didn’t know how to move; didn’t know where he should go, what he should do. It wasn’t until you pressed your lips against the frigid skin of his neck that he snapped out of his trance, clutching at you harder, fingers grasping the thick material of your dress. He lowered his head and pressed his lips to the crown of your head. 

Hundreds of years of friendship, thousands of battles fought together, millions of fights picked with each other. All traded in for a female he knew for almost just a decade. 

A decade he’d spent the better part of keeping you a secret from his family.

Perhaps on some level he expected this, knew how they would treat you.

Not that he doubted you - he hadn’t questioned your love for him, your dedication, your willingness to do the same for him. He didn’t question or curse the Mother, not when she gave him a lovely Spring female. 

Gods, he just felt so weird. 

Starting from scratch again. 

____________________________________

Cassian had to find something to busy himself with. 

He no longer had to tend to the Illyrian camps, no training with the Valkyries or battle strategies to hound over. 

But old habits die hard - he woke before the sun everyday, utterly exhausted. He wasn’t sleeping well, just reliving that terrible night in his head over and over - what he could have said differently, if he’d made the right choice. 

Of course, he’d made the right choice. Choosing you over those who were so ready to cast him out. He just regretted walking out the door without slamming his fist into his brother’s nose. 

Cassian suppressed a haggard sigh, shifting in bed to roll you off his chest. Your brows crinkled in confusion, discomfort at the slight change of position. You nuzzled your face into the fluffy pillow, falling back asleep before your mate pressed a soft kiss behind your ear. Cassian eased himself quietly off the bed, twisting and cracking his spine as he flexed his wings in the small room. 

Cassian loved your apartment. Quaint, cozy, warm - he’d never truly had a home. Not a house of his own, just staying at his brother’s houses. His mother’s house was burned to the ground when he’d returned for her - he didn’t have many memories of her or the home, but he imagined it would be much like yours: riddled with blankets, too small for his wings to sit upright on his back, a small fire that could somehow warm every room. You’d even gotten rid of most of your blooming plants, opting for just the lush green ones, as the pollen had him waking up with itchy eyes and a runny nose. 

He smiled softly as you reached for the pillow beside you, the other half of the bed still warm from where he laid with you. But he’d spend the morning training in the Spring forest, and would return home before you woke. 

He donned his Illyrian leathers - despite many attempts to leave them behind, he couldn’t find anything as comfortable to train in. No clothes could carry as many weapons, couldn’t keep him warm as he flew laps around the court. By the time he fully dressed and was out the door, the sun was already peeking through the town, orange light shining at the end of the street as Cassian took off in a run, sprinting through the town and making his way to the woods. 

He relished the time he could be alone, where the village was empty and there were no strangers, no Fae staring nor children pointing at his wings. Normally, the male was confident enough to push pass that all, or nicely answer questions when they stopped him in the street. You were always hanging on his arm, speaking kindly with your neighbors. Many of them were nice - simply interested in the foreign male - but there were a few that threw glares, and a couple territorial males that growled at him as they passed by.

But that’s why Cassian kept training - just in case. That, and he was a restless male.

He wove through the trees, pulling his heavy sword from where it laid snugly between his wings, and slashed at the drooping branches and thick vines. His wings unfurled behind him, dragging against the wind as they slowed him. They ached, spent too long curled up underneath him as he slept last night, they hung off the bed haphazardly on the other nights. Cassian smiled to himself, imagining a home the two of you could build together - big enough for him, cozy enough for you to fill with those green plants and comfy furniture. 

Cassian spent the morning throwing rocks and doing push-ups, climbing the rope-like vines and practicing his knife-throwing. He’d had half a mind to fashion himself an Illyrian bow - carve it from the thick bark of a healthy tree, strong enough to send the arrow even as far as the Night Court. 

He pulled his thick dark hair behind his head, tying the sweaty strands back with one of his leather bands. His ear twitched when he heard the rustling of the trees behind him. His wings shot up immediately, perked up behind him ready for a fight. The sun was almost fully up, rays of light shining through the tall trees. But the brush was dense, he couldn’t quite make out what was making the noise. 

���Azriel?” He called, stepping closer to the line of trees. His brother had a tendency to play tricks on him, attack him where he was least expecting. 

But he knew Azriel would have been silent. 

Cassian didn’t know what lingered in the Spring forest, the small and large creatures that lived amongst the flora. There was no answer, not even the continued rustling of leaves and dry sticks. The male’s eyes traced the outline of the thicket, unable to make out any threat. With a huff he stretched his wings and took to the skies, circling around the woods to cool off before he headed home. 

He pushed himself into the bedroom as you were just waking up, stretching in bed when he caught your eye. You smiled, the bond in your chest unfurling with warmth as he approached the bed. He bent over the mattress, offering you a kiss in greeting. You hummed a reply, curling your arms around his neck, trying to pull him back to bed. 

Cassian chuckled, hoisting you up instead. “Let me at least bathe before I take you in the bed,” he whispered against your lips, tucking an arm underneath your legs and holding you close to his chest. 

You smiled, nuzzling your neck against his dewy skin. “You do smell,” you mumbled, arms circling around his neck. “But I don’t care.” You pecked his cheek. “I don’t like waking up without you.”

Your mate huffed, kicking open the bathing room door. “You’re more than welcome to come train with me.” He set you on your feet and cupped your face, holding your jaw in his palms. You rose on your tiptoes, letting the male press a firm kiss to your lips. 

Your hands encircled his wrists, holding him still as you met him in the middle. “Then I’d smell just as bad as you - plus I need my rest. Besides, you always manage to find other ways to tire me out, after all.”

Cassian smiled, showing all his teeth. Nothing but pure adoration lacing his features. 

He found that each morning he saw your face shining in the rays of light peeking through your small bathroom window, the pain of leaving his court lessened each day. The bond in his chest was stronger than ever, constantly humming with activity and bursting with love. 

The two of you bathed each other, something that had become part of your sacred morning ritual. You shut your eyes and leaned your head back as he washed your hair, his fingertips running over the sensitive part of your scalp behind your ears. You washed his back and wings, paying special attention to where he’d always somehow managed to cake mud at the base of the wing where it stemmed from his back. 

You’d waited until you were mated - you’d picked up on the fact that despite their size, they were quite private. Always held high and proud, you admired them from a distance, afraid to even run your finger along the wide bone that stemmed from Cassian’s thick muscled back. It was months after you’d officially mated in secret - even after you’d rode through the frenzy. Cassian took your hand in his and traced everywhere he liked to be touched. So strange, having never even seen a male with wings, then to be mated to one. You didn’t know where to begin. 

The more time Cassian spent frequenting your small home in Spring, the more comfortable you grew with the wide leathery wings. You’d explored what made him tick - where to touch him to make him cum, how to oil the leather, how to properly wash them, which of his muscles were sore after a long flight, how to relieve the tension. Cassian eventually had trouble falling asleep in his home court, without your fingers mindlessly tracing patterns against the soft flesh. 

After your bath, your mate wrapped you in a plush robe, dressing himself in the soft sweater you’d gotten him as a birthday gift last year - a Spring evergreen color that brought out his eyes. You’d even taken one of his knives and sliced wing holes through the back and sewed buttons along the bottom. It was haphazard, not as precisely done as the thick ones he donned from the Illyrian Mountains. But he assured you that he loved it nonetheless. 

“Some tea, dear?” You asked, already filling the kettle for more than enough for two cups. 

He nodded in response, already slicing up the bread for breakfast. Cassian had a habit of preparing himself a cooking-snack, already digging into a plate of bread with jam and cheese as the eggs cooked on the stove. You weren’t sure he had a favorite meal of the day - every time he ate was damn near a feast. 

Though, you supposed you couldn’t complain. Your home was always stocked to the brim with fresh pastries, breads, the finest roasts, and more potatoes than you could count. 

You wouldn’t complain about his size, either. 

Cassian sneezed as soon as you opened the kitchen window, a small breeze blowing through the house. He rolled his shoulders back and continued to stuff a slice of cheese in his mouth before tending to the eggs. 

Your shoulders shook with a flinch as you heard a firm knock on the door, followed by what sounded like a kick. 

Cassian watched you, pausing mid-chew as his eyes flitted between you and the door. You held your hand up at him, stopping him in his tracks as he already started moving towards the living room. “Let me see.” Your mate cocked a brow, wiping his hands at his pants. But Cassian nodded, watching you stalk to the door. 

It wouldn’t be uncommon for your neighbors to visit, to bring you some extra pastries or flowers, to stop by for a chat or ask to borrow some flour. You were fairly certain some of the younger females came by to ogle at your mate, especially for a chance to see him when he’d cook shirtless. It never failed to make him blush and scramble for something - anything - to cover up with. 

But that morning, you didn’t expect to open the door and come face-to-face with the High Lord. 

His eyes were narrowed, jaw set and filling the frame of the door. His hands were balled into fists at his side, knuckles white in strain. Tamlin’s blond hair was long past his shoulders, where he normally kept it trimmed and tame, it was unruly, jagged edges frayed and burnt. 

Your heart stopped in your chest, stricken with fear when you met those piercing green eyes. Purple half circles laced his under eyes, dark marks carved into his high cheekbones. The white shirt he wore was frayed, dirtied, and hung loose on his frame. His eyes didn’t leave yours, not to search around your living room, not to Cassian who’d no doubt drawn his knives in the kitchen. Tamlin’s voice was like gravel. “I can smell him.” 

“High Lord, sir - I - ” You stuttered a response, offering him a half-assed curtsey. Your hands shook as you grabbed at your robe, pulling it tighter around yourself. 

Despite how much you’d wanted to defend him after your stint in the Night Court, you’d never actually met the male - never seen him up close, even. But he stood - absolutely raging - at your front door and you were shocked. 

You felt the heat of a familiar Illyrian approaching behind you, his wings splayed out for intimidation - for preparation, you thought, unsure of what fight was about to unfold at your front door. “You’re not welcome in my court.” Tamlin’s eyes flicked upwards, above your head, surely meeting where Cassian stood at your back. 

“She’s my mate,” Cassian began, gruffly but level. Not looking for a fight. “Where she goes, I go.”

Tamlin didn’t flinch. “She’s of the Spring Court - she’s mine.” 

You took a step away from the High Lord, right into the brick wall that was Cassian’s chest. His arms landed on your arms, warm hands wrapping around your shoulders. He held you firmly in front of him, against him - your heartbeats synced. Cassian’s calmness flooded through the bond, the peace before battle; alert, but ready. Ready to throw you out of the way should he so need to. 

“She’s not yours, not even because she’s Spring.” Cassian’s grip tightened as he leveled the High Lord in front of you; the one you’d dared to defend in front of his own High Lord and High Lady - of his previous court, he supposed. “I’m not here to cause any trouble.” He took a deep breath, one in which would allow him to force the next words out of him: “I am seeking refuge.”

To which Tamlin almost let out a huff of air - humor in his eyes. “Refuge,” he tested the word, grimacing at the bitter taste. “What do you know of refuge? And what about it in my court?” Tamlin drew his shoulders back. “You aided that bitch in destroying my - ”

Cassian ushered you out of the way, leaving you stumbling a few steps off in the living room as he approached the High Lord. “What you did to your own court - ”

Then Tamlin lunged. 

He drew his claws, sharp and jagged, aimed directly at Cassian’s face. But the Illyrian was too quick, drawing a hidden knife from his pants. 

You squinted - how he managed to hide that in his linen pants - 

Cassian’s wings splayed out behind him, balancing the male as he stepped backwards and threw the High Lord off of him, angling the blade between them, right under Tamlin’s jaw.

Tamlin pushed himself up on all fours - to be fair, you’d never seen his wolf form, only heard stories and rumors about the shifter male, but gods he was already animalistic enough. He jumped at Cassian again, who stumbled backwards through the doorway, and between Tamlins punches, he raised the knife upward, aiming right for his side. 

The High Lord squirmed away, the blade only narrowly meeting his skin. “Get away from me if you know what’s good for you,” Cassian growled, wings bent against the wooden boards of your front porch. You yelped, hands coming up to cover your mouth as you watched with wide eyes, the two males grappling and hitting each other before you. 

“Get out of my court,” Tamlin barked, reaching for Cassian’s throat. 

His claws never met your mate, Cassian had grabbed his wrist and twisted it to the side, awkwardly angling Tamlin’s arms, which only infuriated him further. “You’re out of practice,” Cassian spat. “Your court is a wreck.” Tamlin kicked his legs, scrambling to pull himself from his captor. Cassian kneed him in the gut, earning a cough from the shifter. “And you fight like a bitch.”

Tamlin bared his teeth, snapping at Cass. He reached for the blade tucked into his boot, to which Cassian kicked the male off him, onto the street below. Tamlin grabbed the blade and slashed, slicing through your mate’s sweater. Cassian returned the gesture, slicing at his chest, to which he drew blood from the High Lord. 

Cassian took a step back, admiring his warning cut, flaring his wings behind him. The dirt spurred around the males at the flap of his wings. He’d take to the air if that wouldn’t give him the unfair advantage. But the High Lord wouldn’t quit, he threw his knife straight for your mate.

The blade landed only in his shoulder, though, nothing the Lord of Bloodshed hadn’t dealt with before. And as Tamlin jumped for the Illyrian one last time, Cassian had no choice but to pull the knife from his wound and hold it straight before him, right to where Tamlin had thrown himself. 

The knife was sharp, he had to hand it to Tamlin. It sank easily into him, into that stone cold heart he’d heard so much about.

The High Lord’s hands didn’t even grasp his shoulders as he slumped before the warrior, body sagging before him at his feet. 

You felt the bond quiver, the utter shock Cassian felt at the action. You were frozen in the doorway, beyond belief with how quickly that escalated - you couldn’t even process it.

Neither could your mate.

Cassian stood over the blond male, laying bloody and limp on the dirt road before him. 

It wasn’t the first male he’d killed.

It surely wouldn’t be the last.

He felt your arms around him, you’d flung yourself to his side. You wove your arms around his chest, burying your face into the crook of his arm. Your racing heart leached through the bond, racing at a pace similar to his own. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the fallen High Lord - the one who he had killed. 

He clutched at your back, fisting the plushy robe as he dropped to his knees. His chest constricted as if his lungs collapsed, 

A panic attack, his mind was reeling, his heart beating so fast he was sure he’d choke on his own blood surging through his veins. What a fucking perfect time. He’d come to terms with his role many centuries ago - warlord, killing for the goodness of others. 

He’d just killed Tamlin. 

His body felt heavy, the weight on his shoulders suddenly soul crushing. 

Cassian raised his head as your hands clutched his shoulders. His heart hammered in his chest. His eyes raised from Tamlin’s cold body, but not to you - to everyone else. The neighbors had trickled out of their homes, standing along the sidewalk and in the grass. Some with their jaws agape, others holding onto their loved ones, a few crying, even fewer smiling. 

Your mate watched as one by one, they bowed. 

Tamlin had no kin. No family left, no lineage, no appointed heir from the Mother. 

Cassian had become High Lord of the Spring Court. 

“Fuck.”

____________________________________

You took Cassian to the Spring Court estate a few days later. His shoulder had healed in the meantime, which gave him the time to convince him to settle into his new role. It took a lot of initial processing, plenty of overthinking, and many hours spent pacing around your small cottage. The male was in utter disbelief - “is this even possible?” “I don’t want to be High Lord.” “I didn’t mean to kill him.”

He was confused… scared, even, you could see it. 

Shit, it would be a lie to say you weren’t.

But all you could do was take it one step at a time. The Mother chose this path for him, and he had no other choice but to accept it. 

You walked hand in hand through the destroyed estate, the fallen walls and piles of stones along the floor. The furniture had molded, what with the rain that fell through the holes in the ceiling, your footsteps didn’t even make an echo with how much debris lay around the halls. Creatures skitted through the rooms, slithering and burrowing between piles of rocks and destroyed foliage. Just a testament to how much there was to rebuild. 

“What do I know about being High Lord?” 

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “What did Feyre know about becoming High Lady? She couldn’t even read.”

Cassian gave you a flat look. “She’s still my friend, you know.”

“Is she?” You challenged his gaze. “She and her mate kicked you out of your court - your home -”

“They didn’t kick me out.” Cassian stopped in his tracks, holding up his hand to correct you - and you arched a brow at him. “I left.” You pressed your lips together. “I want to build my home here, with you.”

You smiled, stepping close enough to him that your elbows brushed against his sternum. “You’re not saying that because you have to, right? Now that you’re stuck here with me?” You couldn’t hide your teasing smile.

Cassian smiled behind a breathy laugh, the first genuine one you’d heard in about a week. “Not because I have to.” He pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, curling an arm around you as you two continued roaming the ruins of what you supposed would be your new home. 

“Are you going to talk to them?”

He knew exactly who you were talking about. But he only offered a shrug. “I guess I have to, huh?”

“You don’t have to… I’m not really sure how all this works.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek. You wished you had better answers, you wished you could comfort your mate with the truth. But you didn’t know what would happen, you didn’t know the first thing about court royalty. 

You hadn’t heard anything from the Night Court, uncharacteristic, you thought, considering their constant meddling in the past. Lucien had sent word to Cassian, the second day after the Spring Court title had shifted, offering himself as emissary to the Night Court. Nothing much from Autumn, nor Winter. Helion, of course, sent congratulations along with an invitation for dinner and more - he was pleased his ‘good friend’ Cassian had joined their club.

Cassian felt the air shift, the cold that washed over him as a dark misty shadow curled around his ankle. He peered over his shoulder, meeting the cobalt siphons behind him.

You eyed the other Illyrian, offering him a nod of your head in greeting. He mirrored the gesture. 

“I’m going to the gallery,” you offered, turning from Cassian and his brother, quietly making your way down the hall. Cassian sent a strum through the bond, thanking you, and offering a promise that he’d join you momentarily. 

“High Lord?” Azriel teased once you’d disappeared down the corridor, offering a mock bow to his brother.

“You’ve been spying on me?” 

Az shrugged. “I have eyes everywhere. Not specifically on you.” Cassian smiled. “I’ve seen far too much of you in my lifetime.”

“Did Rhysand send you?”

Azriel shook his head. “He doesn’t know I’m here.” But as his brother was uncharacteristically quiet, the Shadowsinger continued. “Trading in Lord of Bloodshed for High Lord of Spring then?”

Cassian rolled his eyes and punched him in the shoulder, a bit too hard. “I think I prefer the first one,” he grumbled. 

Azriel eyed his brother, watching how he gnawed on his lower lip and how his hazel eyes flitted around the room. “You’ll be fine, Cassian. You’ve won too many wars to count and led how many soldiers into battle?” Az clapped a hand on his back. “You weren’t General of the Night Court Armies for nothing… consider this a promotion.”

Cassian rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. “Yeah well I suppose I’ll be meeting with my colleagues soon enough.” The dread dripped off his voice. He scratched the back of his head, running his hands through his tangled black hair. “I suppose I’ll be needing a shadowsinger, if you’re interested in warmer weather and a bit more sunshine.”

Azriel smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind, brother.” With a ruffle of his wings, Az prepared himself to winnow out. Cassian was sure Rhysand would have his head if he found out he spent too long in the Spring Court - or with him. “Good luck.”

Cassian bid Azriel goodbye and made his way through the estate halls, kicking the crumbled stones and stepping harshly over the broken glass. He watched the dust pool up in the corners as he wandered the corridor, crossing into the gallery. His eyes washed over the shredded canvas, greens, purples, blues - no red. He recognized Feyre’s art - he’d seen enough of it throughout the River House… and the Town House and the House of Wind.

All of her works were ripped up, clawed through until there was nothing but colorful cloth strewn about the marble floor. The art that remained hung on the walls showed the expanses of the Spring forests, sparkling lakes, and vast meadows. Perhaps one day Cassian would make it out to explore the landscape. 

He found you in the corner of the gallery, where the windows had been broken out and the forest started growing in. The vines and trees crawled through the room, ivy growing along the stone walls and bright flowers blooming in the shrubbery. He rubbed the tears away from the corner of his eye before approaching you.

“I know it’s not much,” you sighed, gazing up at the painting of the orange poppy fields that hung high on the wall. “But it’s Spring…” You felt Cassian wrap his arms around your waist, holding you tightly, back pressed against his chest. Your fingers trailed over his forearms, tracing over the rigid muscle before burying his hands in yours. “It’s home.”

“It’s my home, too. The Illyrian Steppes are too cold anyway.” He nuzzled his nose into your neck, pressing a kiss to your pulse point.

“We’ll have to do something about your allergies, though.”

He groaned. “I don’t have allergies.”

“My whole neck is covered in your drippings.”

Cassian wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “There’s nothing coming out of my nose - I don't know what you’re talking about.” You twisted in his grasp, wrapping your arms around his large waist. He shrugged his wings, blinking a few times to clear the fog from his itchy eyes. 

Damn the Spring Court. It couldn’t have been the Summer or Dawn Court? 

He had to be the High Lord of a court he was godsdamned allergic to.

[outoftheseine]

-AZRIEL “THE SHADOWSINGER” FIC RECS-

i am so obsessed with him it is not even funny | note: please be aware of the authors’ warnings before reading. fics include canon tw’s like: violence, death, grief. some fics have 18+ content so minors please DNI.

main masterlist

SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS

the trials of aphrodite • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @milswrites (unrequited love, so much pining)

unrequited love | part two • azriel x reader

↳ by @lyssasdrafts (angst)

a field of dandelions • azriel x witch!reader

↳ by @prythianpages (made my heart warm, some angst, smut)

bloodied bonds | sinner’s sacrifice • azriel x rhysand’s sister!reader

↳ by @ellievickstar (hanahaki au, angst)

if it all fell • azriel x reader

↳ by @pellucid-constellations (angst, comfort, i feel for azriel :()

the silent one | 2 | 3 | 4 | azriel x fem!oc

↳ by @feyreswaterybowels (found family, slowburn, angst, fluff, comfort, mute!oc, tw: past sa)

lonesome | part 2 • azriel x reader

↳ by @assassinsblade (angst)

ocean eyes • azriel x reader

↳ by @redheadspark (very fluffy, angsty at times, smut, dad!azriel)

crush • azriel x reader

↳ by @writingcroissant (so so fluffy, smut)

i laugh like me again… she laughs like you | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 • azriel x reader

↳ by @azrielbrainrot (very angsty, grief, violence, torture)

was any of it true? | full throttle | alt. ending • badboy!azriel x goodgirl!reader

↳ by @flickering-chandelier (modern au, angst, happy ending, smut)

pushed to the edge • azriel x seer!reader

↳ by @stormhearty (oh boy hurt me so good)

baker!reader x azriel

↳ by @imaginesmai (so fluffyyy)

and so, the stars aligned | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 • azriel x archeron!reader

↳ by @offthepages

finding home • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @parkerslatte

sweet like sugar • azriel x reader

↳ by @writingsbychlo (fluff, angst, smut)

ONE-SHOTS - BLURBS - HC’S

tiny shadows • azriel x reader

↳ by @xmalfoyweasleyx (fluff)

his shadows know • azriel x reader

↳ by @daycourtofficial (fluff)

he feels safe with you • azriel x reader

↳ by @florencemtrash (warm, fuzzy fluff)

the quiet between • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @thewulf (mean!az, angst, fluff)

you drew stars around my scars • azriel x reader

↳ by @flickering-chandelier (fluff, slight angst)

arcane • azriel x death god!reader

↳ by @serpentandlily (fluff, tw: alludes to sa)

butterfly kisses • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @itsswritten (fluff, suggestive)

threads of hazel • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @itsswritten (oh beautiful angst)

laborious activities • azriel x reader

↳ by @writingcroissant (fluff and labour things)

marriage-life • azriel x reader

↳ by @delulustateofmind (sooo fluffy)

baby blanket • azriel x reader

↳ by @sapphicmsmarvel (fluff)

implode • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @daydreaming-nerd (really angsty)

blinded • azriel x reader

↳ by @lady-of-tearshed (oh so angsty, unrequited love)

scartlet-tipped secrets; peonies, for you • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @angelshadowsinger (hanahaki au, unrequited love, angst)

totally annoying and not funny at all • azriel x reader

↳ by @sillymercury (fluff, little angst, literally idiots in love)

never yours • azriel x reader (lucien x reader)

↳ by @really-fanny-longbottom (angst, stupid azriel tbh, fluff)

let me keep you company • azriel x reader

↳ by @utterlyazriel (so so fluffy)

you found me • azriel x reader

↳ by @pit-and-the-pen (angst, blood, comfort)

pretty little shadowsinger • azriel x reader

↳ by @illyrianbitch (fluff)

happy ending • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @milswrites (fluff and a little angst)

pancake • azriel x reader

↳ by @acotarxreader (fluff, comfort, tw: panic attack)

domestic bliss • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @bat-boys (very fluffy, slightly suggestive)

and yesterday you were here with me • azriel x reader

↳ by @dawneternal (angst, comfort, tw: miscarriage)

(what if?) all i need is you • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @empiresofstorm (whipped azriel, comfort, fluff)

baby mine • azriel x reader

↳ by @thisblogisaboutabook (angst, comfort, fluff, tws: sa and trauma)

calypso • azriel x reader

↳ by @solbaby7 (fav kind of female rage, mentions of blood)

the girl who cheated death • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @utterlyotterlyx (fluff)

the tormented & the unforgiven • azriel x reader

↳ by @lucysstoryworld (very angsty, graphic torture)

tattoos older than you • azriel x archeron!reader

↳ by @surielstea (age-gap, suggestive)

“you were flirting with me?” • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @thehighladywrites (suggestive, fluff, humour)

[sarawritestories]

Serenity Found

Cassian X Fem Reader

Summary: A quiet night in, causes the General of the Night Court to Reveal his true feelings to you.

Content Warning: None

Word count: 592

A/N: I'm sorry I keep promising things and not delivering. I'm juggling a lot and writing has been put to the back burner so much so I cried about it today. So here is a cute fluffy drabble for you. If you see any mistakes...no you didn't.

Dividers by the beautiful @tsunami-of-tears

ACOTAR MASTERLIST Taglist Request

The warmth from the flames in the library fought against the winter chill that had blanketed Velaris. Tucked into a blanket, your head finding purchase in the lap of your best friend, The General of the Night Court’s Armies. His fingers were idly gliding through your hair as he read his novel. Looking up at him for a moment; you were entranced by Cassian’s rugged beauty.

Illuminated by the fire crackling in the hearth, his face had a golden glow, his hair up in a bun, a few stray pieces framing his face that now held stubble after going days without shaving. His wings were relaxed against the couch. You fought the urge to press your thumb against the crease between his eyebrows as his Hazel irises focused on his book.  Unable to resist the urge much longer you reached up to do just that when his free hand gripped your wrist. “Knock it off.” His tone was light, and a smile appeared causing your heart to flutter. He resembled one of the old gods that Rhys’ mom would tell you about, handsome, kind and exudes raw power off his body. All those attributes describe your best friend of centuries. You were the moment he smiled at you and remained his when he had rescued you from the cruel fate of servitude. If only he realized he had your heart in the palm of his hands.

He remained unaware and you were left with a void in your heart the size of an Illyrian warrior.

The Mother was a cruel vixen.

“Sweetheart?” You blinked and noticed his smile had disappeared, replaced with a look of concern. “Where did you go?”

You smiled, “No where, I just missed you,” You turned back to your own book.

His hand grazed your arm, the soft scrap of his callouses against your skin, causing a shiver to race down your spine. “I promise to not be away for so long. I missed our reading nights. Being near you brings me such…”

“Serenity?” You glanced back to see him give a curt nod. Heat crept to your face at his admission, “Me too.”

Cassian’ lightly pulled your arm so you were facing him once more, “I have a confession to make.”

“Okay?” I rose from my spot to give him my full attention.

“Can I show you?” My head tilted, “Its better if I show you.”

You weren’t sure if your heart was beating, “Of course, Cassian. I trust you.”

Cassian’s Hazel’s eyes held your gaze with an intensity that wasn’t there a moment previously. “Good.” He cupped your face, and, in a moment, his lips were on yours. Quickly grip his waist in your hands he pulled you close. Pulling away before you could deepen the kiss, Cassian wraps a muscled arm around your waist and places his forehead to yours. “I couldn’t keep it in any longer.”

“Cassian.” You whispered your chest warming as the gold thread tethered your soul to his. You pushed him slightly as if you could see the thing tethering you two together. “You’re my-

You looked up to find the General’s face morph from shock to pure happiness, “Mate. You’re mine.”

No longer fighting your urge you slid into his lap and peppered his stubbled face with kisses. “Yours. I’ve always been yours.”

And as the night went on you two sat in the library, in each other’s arms fast asleep. As two lonely souls morphed into one. Calmness falling between them as sleep consumed them.

Finding Serenity at last.

General Tag: @milswrites @lady-of-tearshed @tsunami-of-tears @readychilledwine @ceoofyearning

@velariscalling @daycourtofficial @prythianpages @writingcroissant @itsswritten

@illyrianbitch @acotarxreader @pit-and-the-pen @nocasdatsgay @labyrinth-of-stories-and-stars

@ninthcircleofprythian @thelov3lybookworm @riddlesb1tch @lilah-asteria

@kylaisra @nickishadow139 @aelincaddel @nighttimemoonlover @demirunner

@marvelbros-oneshots @lanea-1 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan

[daycourtofficial]

I got cursed like Eve got bitten - part IX

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand's sister!reader | WC: 500 | Warnings: none

Summary: reports of a rare powered fae popping up in Illyria send Azriel and Rhysand on a journey through the past, unraveling a truth they thought long buried

Previous part | Next part | Masterlist

Rhys sat in his office, a cold cup of untouched tea on his desk as he reviewed a new trade agreement when Feyre walked into his office. He perked up, leaning back in his chair, arms wide in invitation. She opted to sit across from him instead, a spark of annoyance shooting at him down the bond.

“Rhys, we have a problem.”

“Of course we do, you’re sitting over there instead of in my lap.”

Feyre rolled her eyes, her arms crossing over her chest as she looked at Rhys, straightening in his chair.

“Your sister thinks you hate her.”

His scoff annoyed her further. “Don’t be ridiculous darling.” His gaze shot back down to the paper on his desk, trying to read it once more. 

“Am I? You’ve avoided interacting with her the entire time she’s been here.”

“That’s absurd, I have not. I speak to her daily.”

Feyre leaned back in her chair, eyes assessing. “Tell me any and all interesting conversations you’ve had with her that weren’t about her training.”

Rhys stayed silent, a scowl on his face at Feyre. The two stared each other down until Rhys put his papers down again, straightening them on his desk.

“You don’t understand, Feyre.”

“Help me understand, Rhys. Help her understand.” She leaned forward, watching Rhys fiddle with the parchment.

“You don’t have to understand, it’s my responsibility.”

“She’s my sister now, too. That means she’s partially my responsibility. And the way it looks to me is her brother is ignoring her.”

Rhys’s hands moved to his hair, tucking the strands, looking to the floor as he spoke. “They were my responsibility.” He took a shaky breath. “She has been my responsibility even after I thought she was gone, she’s been out there, Mother knows what was happening to her while I didn’t even look for her!”

His voice was getting louder, but his tone was almost pleading with the power to go back, to just look again.

“How could you have known?” Feyre’s voice was similar to what you’d use to calm a feral cat.

“I could have opened the box! Neither of us opened it, but it was my responsibility as her brother to prove she was gone. I never opened it because I was a coward.”

“You saw a body! I wouldn’t have opened the box, either.”

“I should have known it wasn’t her!” 

He stopped, taking in a deep breath. “All these years, I haven’t even had an inkling of something strange occurring. I never thought to dig deeper. I failed her.”

“You failed her as much as I failed my sisters. The difference is I didn’t let them think I hated them.”

He rubbed his eyes, looking at his mate. “You can feel like you failed her then, but every minute you spend avoiding her because of your feelings, you are failing her again and again.”

Rhys put his face in his hands, not noticing or not caring when Feyre shut the door behind her.

Author’s note: short little chapter for yall ❤️

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin @magicstrengthandcourage

I got cursed series taglist: @doodlebugg16-blog @ceoofyearning @saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofbatboydreams @willowpains @anarchiii @i-am-infinite @bsenpai @sstrohma @teenagellamaangel @allthatisbuck1917 @elsie-bells @rcarbo1 @pruvii @whyshouldihaveanam3 @sleepylunarwolf

Thanks for reading ❣️

[readychilledwine]

✨️happy June 14th✨️

So first, today is Sophia's 6 month birthday 🥺🥺

Second, we are halfway through 2024. Isn't that insane?! I decided to start a tag game for us to celebrate everything we've accomplished so far this year.

I thought it would be fun for us to post our top 5 favorite things we've wrote/drawn, and have posted since I know some of us have gems hidden, to bring love to things that maybe haven't gotten the attention we wanted or that thrived💕

Fanart, moodboards, dividers. Headcanons, drabbles, one shots, or a chapter update to your epic on going fic, I don't care, I want to read and see them and give you love!

So, without further ado, here are mine in no real order:

Drumming Song - Summary - 49 long years without your mate finally comes to an end after Amarantha grants him one night of freedom - smut - Rhysand x reader

The Breakfast Club - Summary - After missing breakfast unexpectedly, a hidden relationship is revealed to Azriel's family, who can't tell if they're more surprised by you or his cat. - Fluff - Azriel x reader

Love Language - Summary - Lucien never wanted you to question his love, so he makes sure you never have to by leaving small reminders every time he leaves. - Fluff - Lucien x reader

Mine - Summary - Cassian always gets a little riled up when he gets to fight for your honor. - Smut - Cassian x reader

Limbo - Summary - You would never be able to move on from your untimely death. Not while the two males you loved kept you trapped here. - Angst - Tamlin x Rhysand's Sister Reader

No obligation tags to: @claireswritingcorner @honeybeefae @thehighladywrites @labyrinth-of-stories-and-stars @danikamariewrites @sarawritestories @milswrites @itsswritten @illyrianbitch @acourtofladydeath @nocasdatsgay @littlestw01f @loneliestluvr @lady-of-tearshed @hopeinvelaris @daycourtofficial @writingcroissant @acotarxreader @pit-and-the-pen @historiaxvanserra @utterlyazriel @dawneternal @stormhearty @tsumani-of-tears @secret-third-thing @teddyhoneybear @zenkindoflove @ninthcircleofprythian @achaotichuman @hieragalbatorixdottir @artists-ally @invisibleanonymousmonsters @lucienarcheron @tadpolesonalgae @serpentandlily @azrielsdove

really anyone who'd like to do it 💕

[tsunami-of-tears]

Rules: list your five all time favorite films and have people vote on which best fits your vibe.

Thanks for the tag @pit-and-the-pen 🤍

No pressure tags 🤍

@acotarxreader @teddyhoneybear @lady-of-tearshed

@ceoofyearning @bubybubsters @mika-no-sekai-blog

@sunshinebingo and anyone else who would like to play 🫶🏻

[illyrianbitch]

Movie Tag <3

thank you for tagging me my sweet @milswrites and @dawneternal

Rules: List your five all time favorite films and have people vote on which best fits your vibe.

This was lowkey hard bc I'm a tv series girl over movies whoopsies

on another note, if you havent seen loving vincent and love van gogh, i recommend it x100!! its the world's first fully painted film and it is GORGEOUS!

no pressure tags: @itsswritten @writingcroissant @websterss @acotarxreader @readychilledwine

[prythianpages]

ACOTAR Tag Game

Thank you for the tag! @ninthcircleofprythian (you tagged my main but I'll post it on here <3 I also promise I didn't just copy & paste, we just have very similar minds bc I agreed with you on most of these lol)

Answer the questions below & tag whoever you want, or make it an open tag!!

Who's your favourite ACOTAR character?

Do I have to pick? It's so hard! But since I'm in my Eris era, I'll go with him rn.

Who's your least favourite character?

It's between Mor or Amren. Idk, I just don't really vibe with them as much.

Say something nice about your least favourite character.

I did like that Amren gave Feyre that ruby or jewelry to give her the courage to go back to the prison. That was sweet of her 🥹 & Mor for taking Feyre away from Spring.

Who's your favourite High Lord? (If you picked one for your fav character, then who's your second fav!)

It's also Helion. He seems like such a good time (; like mans has the best library in prythian and glorious thighs??? c'mon now

Favourite MINOR character?

The Suriel. I loooooove gossip and would literally just summon them for the tea.

Favourite ship? (Crackships included!)

Azris hehe. They'd be so hot together.

Favourite court and why?

This is hard to answer when SJM hasn't given us much info about other courts 😭 So I think I'd have to pick Summer Court because I love the ocean and if there are mermaids, it's over for me there. I love them!

Make up a brand new court RIGHT NOW, NO PREP JUST VIBES.

OOhh! Umm...idk what I would name it but it would be nice if there was a court inspired by Dia De Los Muertos/ Day of the Dead. Like an underworld type of court where the High Lord/Lady there can helping the souls of prythian after they die and somehow it's associated with Starfall. Marigold Court? idk lol Like I said lame name but cool concept.

What relationship would you have wanted to see more of in the books?

Honestly, I would sell my soul for a pre-ACOTAR book that focuses on the Bat Boy friendship. Like when Cas mentioned waking up naked with some decoration around him? And Az hiccuping when drunk?? I NEED to know more.

What's your unpopular opinion?

Idek if this is unpopular but I do feel for Tamlin. He did fuck up but given other characters have also fucked up, I really hope he gets a redemption arc or is able to pick himself up. Like dude is really going through it and so are his people, someone pls save Spring I also kinda wished Amren had stayed dead. I don't hate her character but it felt too good to be true when both her and Rhys died and then they came back to life. It would've had more impact if one of them stayed dead.

What's your favourite headcanon/fan canon?

Right now? These body headcannons from @readychilledwine

If you were to be swept away to Prythian, what's ONE thing you would want to do?

I would want to experience Starfall with the IC. I love looking at the sky, especially stars and the moon and with all those hotties? Sign me tf up.

If you could have ONE faerie ability seen in the books, which would it be?

I would love to control water! Blame my mermaid fascination & h2O tv show addiction for this haha. But also making water wolves sounds so cool.

no pressure tags: @stormhearty, @daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @sarawritestories, @sillysillygoose444,

@acotarxreader, @pit-and-the-pen, @lady-of-tearshed

[azsazz]

Dioxazine (Part 2)

Rhysand x Reader

Summary: After Rhys invites you to his party, you find yourself attending...for research.

Warnings: Drinking, smoking, smut.

Word Count: 4,993

(Part 1)

Notes: thank you, as always, to @writingsbychlo for the help 💙

And Happy Friday my loves!!

_________________________________________

You make a noise of frustration, leaning back into your chair and tossing your brush into the palette beside your canvas. It bounces once before the tip sticks in the thick oily violet color you’d been trying to perfect, while the wooden handle of the paintbrush rolls into the other various shades of violet you’d been trying to blend from memory.

None of them are right.

You’ll never admit it – least of all to Rhysand should you ever see him again – but he has the most intriguing eyes you’ve ever seen. Sure, you’ve seen pretty greens and blues and caramel browns, vast arrays of colorful iris’ throughout your life, but never that striking violet that Rhys has.

You cross your arms over your chest as you stare at the painting of his eyes you’ve been attempting since you’ve gotten home from your trip to the supply store where you’d met the cheeky man. You haven’t been able to get them off of your mind, so you did the only thing that would normally help you move on from something so interesting; paint it.

But the purple you mixed doesn’t look like lightning streaking across the night sky. What you’ve painted looks more like a bushel of grapes ready to be crushed and made into wine. It’s all off. You’ve used nearly the entire tube of the dioxazine color you’d bought trying to blend the perfect shade, but to no avail.

You bite your cheek, looking down at your arm. You’d scrubbed tirelessly at the thick black numbers Rhysand had scribbled on your skin in haste, but even if you hadn’t immediately plugged his number into your phone as soon as you set your bag of art supplies down, you have it memorized anyway. It had been the only way to get him away from you, although there was something about his incessant flirting and cheeky attitude that had you intrigued. And the fact that he’s drop dead gorgeous.

You can’t help but wonder what he and his friends were spray painting and where. Was it on the side of the commons building with their address and time for the party? Or maybe some random run down building off campus somewhere? Did he paint an admission of his fondness towards the girl he’d known for only a few minutes? He did say that he would paint something pretty for you.

Groaning, you throw your head in your hands. You should stop thinking about him. You don’t want to be, but there’s something about Rhys that you just can’t get out of your head. And it’s not only the color of his eyes.

Your arm has barely stopped tingling and your stomach has had butterflies running rampant since he’d grabbed your arm to write his number down. His hand was large and warm wrapped around your wrist, and it was calloused in all of the right places. His smirk had made your heart stutter in your chest and after seeing that silly tattoo you found yourself wanting to rid him of his shirt to admire the other ink you saw sprawling up his tan arms.

Rhys seems like the kind of guy who even has tattoos framing his–

“Fuck,” you breathe, reaching for your phone that’s playing music softly by your side. Your cheeks are hot with a blush and you’re thankful that no one’s around to see it. Paint smears on the screen as you try to unlock it, a vibrant purple that makes you want to cringe. It’s nowhere near the color you’re looking for, and you swipe your phone against your pants, quickly removing the paint and pulling open a new text thread before you lose your nerve.

It’s (Y/N). Where’s that party you were talking about earlier?

Simple. Straight to the point. You hit send.

There’s a fleeting thought that maybe you should delete it, but your phone is already buzzing with response.

Changed your mind already, (Y/N) Darling? That didn’t take long.

You huff, even though you’d been expecting something as much from Rhysand.

Changed my mind. Have a nice night. Try not to get the police called on you.

Awe, you’re worried about me?

Address? So I can be the one to call the police on you.

You can picture that smile curling his lips in a feline smirk. Maybe he’s even laughing. A good look for him, one that has you biting your lip and on the edge of your stool as you wait for a response. The three dots appear quickly as he shoots off his reply.

2054 Velaris Circle. I can assure you that no uninvited police will be there.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“I was beginning to think that you weren’t coming,” Rhys smirks, and gods, does he look amazing in that black t-shirt and jeans to match, leaning up against the doorframe like that. His arms are crossed over his chest, the pose accentuating his muscles.

You swallow, holding his gaze. His violet eyes are intense and the air around you is charged as he dares you to check him out.

You don’t give into the urge to drag your eyes down his body, instead taking in his handsome face. The wicked curve of his mouth and his sleek black hair is mused in the perfect way. You notice the stars in his eyes the longer you stare, and all of sudden you know that you’re no longer here just to memorize that color for your painting. 

You need to memorize all of him.

“I was deciding whether or not I wanted to actually show up,” you respond with a lie, shrugging as if you haven’t just come to this jarring realization.

Rhys doesn’t look like he believes you, so he says, “Well, I’m glad you could find the time to join me.”

Not join the party, not join us, but him.

“I have artists’ block and nothing better to do anyway, so here I am,” you offer lamely but he smiles nonetheless. 

He hums in a noncommittal way and shifts to the side, gesturing you into the house with a wave.

You duck inside and Rhys’ hand falls lightly to your back to usher you deeper into his home. You can feel his fingertips burning through the thin fabric of your shirt, heating your bones. The touch of him against you helps as you maneuver through the mass of drunken strangers, the music loud in your ears.

If you thought the outside was tremendous, the inside is even more so. It’s a large house, bigger than you would assume a struggling art student to be able to afford, even with multiple roommates. He must come from some sort of money or in fact be a very successful artist to call this extravagant, modern space his home.

The crowd parts around you as Rhys guides you through the foyer. Girls take you in with their hazy glares, assessing, while the boys clap Rhys on the shoulder with passing greetings, cheers, and dibs to be his partner in the next round of beer pong.

“Wow…you’re quite the social butterfly,” you comment as you pass by two boys who are handing out shots of amber liquid to passersby. Both of their copper hair stands out even under the low lighting, and you gasp, jumping backward as the younger one shoves a glass into your hand as the older one flicks his lighter, setting the liquid on fire with a brazen grin.

Rhysands warm hands find your hips as you startle, settling you as he continues forward to press up into your backside in protection. He sends a glare that you miss over your head towards the pyromaniacs that have somehow squirreled their way into another one of his parties.

“What the fuck?” you squeak, careful not to let any of the drink slosh over the sides of the glass.

“It’s alright, Darling,” Rhys’ deep tone sends shivers rumbling up your spine, drawing your attention away from the flaming drink in your hand. Your cheeks heat as your focus is pulled to the hard lines of his body pressed tightly against yours, his fingers pressing into your waist with confidence. You feel as though you’ve already taken the shot of alcohol.

Rhys reaches over your shoulder to take the drink from your hands. He keeps it held in front of you, as far away from your body as he can reach. Your hands fall to grasp the sides of his legs as he places a palm over the entirety of the glass, your breath hitching in your throat as he stifles its flame.

Your nails dig into the meat of his thighs through the thick denim and his breathing falters as he thinks about those nails all over his body, dragging across his tanned skin while you writhe and whimper beneath him. 

You feel his breathing deepen and his cock press into your hind. You bite your lip to stifle the noise of pleasure creeping up your throat.

You want this.

You want him.

Your entire façade you had walking into his party is gone, singed away from the sure way he’s holding you tightly to his body. You can feel every muscle as he moves, every breath he takes, his broad chest pushing you forward and the arm around your waist pulling you back, lulling you into him further. You’re a fucking goner.

Once the flame is smothered, he uses that hand to grab your chin, tilting your head back all the way until you meet his violet gaze.

His eyes are burning the color of the hottest flames, licking you up as he forces your jaw open, his thumb and middle fingers pinching your cheeks. It isn’t painful but his touch isn’t light and the feeling goes straight to your core, molten for him.

“Good girl,” he murmurs softly, focusing fully on you as he brings the shot to your mouth and dumps the liquid in. 

You choke a little as you force the cinnamon liquor down and the sound makes him bite his lip and his cock jump with need. You can’t help but arch against him a little, grinding into him as he thinks about what kinds of sounds you’d make if his cock was being shoved down your throat instead of just the fiery alcohol.

“Yo! Get a room,” a high pitched voice startles you. Rhys’ grip around your neck tightens in reflex but falls to your side when your attention is ripped apart to the girl passing by with a wicked grin on her cadmium red lips.

She’s gorgeous, clad in a skimpy dress and killer heels, her blonde hair bouncing around her in perfect waves as she approaches. You swallow your nervousness, beginning to shift away from Rhys because surely he’ll want her attention.

But Rhysand only scowls at the girl, his hand on your hip sliding across your waist to keep you pinned to his front. “You’re one to talk, Morrigan. I think Emerie is waiting in the guest room already.”

Her laugh is a song of its own and she doesn’t take the time to stop like you thought that she would, she only continues deeper into the party where the music gets louder and the air gets hotter. 

You raise your eyebrow at Rhys and he grins sheepishly. “That was my nosey cousin, Mor.”

You nod in understanding as he begins leading you through the room again with a final scowl over his shoulders at the two brothers with matching shit-eating grins covering their freckled lined faces. 

When the crowd parts and you finally catch sight of where Rhys is taking you and you halt in your tracks.

There’s a table of sorts set up, a few ring lights brightening up the space in the corner of the room. You recognize the two boys. There’s a gloriously tanned man laying on the table, shirtless with the waistband of his pants tugged down to expose his hips. He’s grinning down at something that the artist mutters. His toned body is littered with tattoos like Rhys’, though you can’t make them out from where you’re standing. He huffs a laugh when the dark haired boy with the tattoo gun in his hand pauses and glares up at him, settling flat on his back from where he’d been curled up, trying to get a look at the progress of his new tattoo.

The artist looks similar as he hunches over the other man’s waist once more. Broad shoulders beneath a starkly onyx shirt. The fringe of his hair hangs between the two men, looking silky soft in the harsh lights. He’s concentrating hard, attentive golden eyes and steady hands covered with sterile gloves. More permanent art across his body, you notice a tattoo of a falling angel on his bicep. Whatever it’s reaching up towards disappears beneath the sleeve of his shirt.

Your stomach rolls with nervousness. Surely Rhys hadn’t been serious when he’d mentioned you getting a tattoo of his phone number outside of the art shop.

You rub your hand over the mark he’d left subconsciously. 

“Isn’t that illegal?” you blurt, grimacing as you stare at the man as he pauses to wipe stray ink away from the other man’s cut hips.

“Having fun? No.”

You tear your gaze away from the sight to glare up at him.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Rhys’ laughter rings above the heavy bass of the music and his hand presses more firmly against your back, urging you forward. Your spine tightens pleasurably at the pressure. 

“Loosen up. What does it matter, if it’s consensual?”

You suppose he has a point. The area looks clean enough and the boy giving the tattoos looks as professional as any, but you will not be hopping up on that table tonight.

Not that you can’t be convinced.

“They’re my roommates,” Rhys explains as he ushers you by. The one lying on the table gives Rhys a shit eating grin. He looks like he’s about to say something but the other boy mutters a threat that you can’t hear over the loud bass of the music, but the way the other scoffs and deflates tells you enough.

You nod in response, and he continues, leaning down so you can hear him better. His breath is hot against your skin and it causes shivers to prickle up your spine, your fingers twisting together with nervousness as he leads you towards the hall. “The one on the table is Cassian, and the one giving him that awful tattoo I told him not to get is Azriel.”

That catches your interest. “Awful tattoo?” you ask, following Rhys as he shoves his way into a room you can only assume is his own. “What is he getting?”

The lights cut on, dim so that you can see but it doesn’t ruin the mood. Rhys slips the door shut and there’s a click of the lock that's drowned out by the party outside. You find yourself not caring what tattoo Cassian is getting as you take in the sight of his large room. It’s something out of a dream, sleek and pristine and attuned to Rhysand very aesthetically. There’s stacks of art history books littering his large desk on one side, his sleek laptop shut on top, and the other side is filled with a mess of charcoals, pencils, and paper from the art shop.

You wonder what he’s drawing over there.

Rhys tuts disapprovingly, “You do not want to know, Darling.”

You can’t help but grin at him as he comes up behind where you’re standing to wrap himself around you. It’s nice, more than, and while you swore you were only coming here to peek at his eyes again to reference in your painting, you find yourself wanting to get him out of his clothes, see all of him, so your work of just his eyes can turn into a full body picture.

“Oh, but now I really do want to know,” you giggle, latching onto his forearm where it’s splayed across your shoulders. You turn in his arms and Rhys lets you lead him backwards towards the bed as you guess. “Is it leaves or wings? Or, don’t tell me! It’s totally someone's name, right? He seems like the type.”

Rhysand dips his head down to press against yours. Your breath hitches at his close proximity and your cheeky thoughts wander into something more serious, your grip tightening on him as the backs of his legs hit the bed.

“Oh, Darling,” he breathes, nipping at your lip. It’s quick and playful and you find yourself wanting to chase him for more. “It’s so much worse than that. I told him not to get it.”

Rhys’ grip tightens around your waist as he falls backwards and you land on top of his rock hard chest with a squeal. Your hips are tucked tightly to his and when you move to settle more properly, he grunts at you.

You can’t help yourself, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead as you respond, “Yeah? Worse than a drugged-out Mickey Mouse?”

He grins and your heart stutters. That is something you’ll have no trouble painting later because it is forever etched into your mind now.

Rhys pokes your sides and you squirm against him in retaliation. He chokes on his laugh and those violet eyes darken with lust at your movements. You can feel just how much you’re affecting him.

“He’s getting ‘in case I forget later: thank you’ tattooed across his hips, Darling.”

Your mouth falls open in shock before you’re bursting out into uncontrollable laughter. You can’t help yourself and Mother help the poor girls who see it, but that is a heinous crime and Rhysand doesn’t even look like he’s joking.

“Please tell me that’s not true,” you ask when you calm down a little, cheeks burning from your smile. You quite like the way that Rhysand’s dioxazine eyes shine at you.

He shrugs under you, “Said he wanted to match with me.”

“Stop.”

He lifts a brow, daring. “Why don’t you take a look for yourself?”

And with those words the silliness eddies from your body. Instead, it’s replaced with a charged sort of silence, his breathing deepening as your pupils dilate for him. His hands around your hips move slowly, warm palms curving over the round of your ass before pulling your hips tighter into him. You gasp, circling them a little, reveling in the hardness pressed up against you and his guttural groan.

When you move to slide down his body he licks his lips, carefully watching your fingers fumble with the button of his pants. You keep your eyes off of his cock where it’s straining against the fabric, but your mouth waters a little knowing that he’s as ready for this as you are. You wonder if he’s spent all day thinking about you like you have him, and you fight the urge to go flip through those drawings on his desk to see if he’s been sketching you too. 

You’re eager, shoving his shirt up his chest to reveal the deep cut of his hip bones, tanned and not an ounce of ink in sight.

You purse your lips, glaring up at him playfully. 

“You lied to me.”

His stare is hungry, the sight of you before his cock makes him ache more, and that pout…he hopes he lasts.

“Maybe someday, Darling,” his voice is raspy with desire that makes your cunt clench. Until that day, you’ll leave your own marks on his hips.

You act on the urge, leaning closer to lick and nip at the smooth skin. Your eyes don’t leave his and you swear he shudders as you suck as many marks into the area as you can. When you shift to lap at the other side you let your breasts drag across the bulge in his pants, nipples tightening at the feeling. 

Rhys’ head falls back on his shoulders as he releases a shaky exhale, “Darling.”

You ignore him in favor of tugging at the waistband of his briefs, aching to see that picturesque cock and add it to the painting you’re building in your mind. 

He gets the hint quickly, grabbing your arms and pulling you up his body for a burning kiss.

Before you even have a chance to sink into it he’s rolling you off of him. A protest pushes at your lips but he’s lifting himself to pull at the jeans you’ve already started getting off, and you’re frozen at the sight as his bottoms hit the floor and his cock springs up, thick and hard and perfect in every way. You swallow at the sight of it.

Your heart races in your chest as he climbs back onto the bed, wasting no time in helping you with your own clothes, attaching himself to your lips as his hands begin to wander everywhere. Yours slip into his silky hair and you moan into the kiss, shuddering as the cool air of his room coats your naked body until his warm one is pressing harshly against yours, his filled cock sliding through the folds of your slick cunt.

There is no foreplay. You don’t need it with how wet you are, how eager for him you are. The both of you touch and tug at each other desperately, like you haven’t thought of anything else all day except for this moment, and neither of you are willing to waste it. With the way that he’s kissing you, fingers sliding across your body to shift you into the positions he wants, you know that there will be more time for you to explore later.

You are the perfect canvas for his kisses, reacting beautifully to his every move.

The party is still in its height, music thrumming so loudly that the walls shake with it. You don’t care though, all caught up in Rhysand.

The pounding of the base fizzles out as his cock slides in, in, into your hot cunt, swallowing the length like the good girl he knows you are. You whimper with pleasure. It’s almost too much, how big he is, how warm he is, it feels like you can feel him in your throat.

“Fuck, Darling. Just like I’d imagined it’d be.”

You arch at his words. You’re pressed so tightly together you think his tattoos might rub off on you. The thought makes you shiver. You’d love to be marked by him in a way that will last longer than the bruises his fingertips and lips are leaving.

You feel like sliding out from under him and onto that leather table set up in the other room, requesting a tattoo from the quiet man giving them. Or just have him come in here and do it while you’re sitting on Rhysands cock.

“Hey, where’d you go?” Rhys whispers against your lips, drawing you away from your wandering thoughts. A soft kiss, a tease, and then another.

You surge up from the pillow and kiss him when he pulls away. Your fingers twist into his hair to hold him against you and in return his hips cant downwards into your own. He moans into your mouth. He tastes amazing and the heat of his lips against yours goes straight to your core. The swirl of his tongue is one you hope he’ll recreate against your clit later.

“If you could give me a tattoo, what would you give me?” you ask breathlessly, desperately as he impales you with his cock, nails scraping down his back as he pushes into you even further. His large hands hold your waist and when you arch your spine in pleasure his eyes glow.

He stares down at you for a moment, violet gaze drinking in the swell of your lips, the mess your hair has become as he ruts into you. Your beauty is everlasting, and your words drive him deeper into you with a feral groan. His words slip from his mouth in pleasure, “My name.”

You can’t help the loud, erotic moan that escapes at his admission.

“Fuck. Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Rhys growls, pressing his body flush against yours to pin you to the bed. He likes the feel of you under him, writhing against his chest with his cock shoved deep into your soaking wet cunt. He sucks a lewd kiss to the underside of your jaw, making his way towards your ear.

The pendant of his necklace is like ice against your hot skin and you whimper in pleasure at the feeling, praying that the medallion will be indented into your skin from how tightly the two of you are molded together.

His voice is low, breath hot as he hums, “Want to have my name on you, yeah? Right where everyone can see, pretty girl?” His calloused fingers trail up your sides, stopping at your breasts to play with them. He circles your nipple with his finger, cock twitching at the thought of you branded with his name across your skin. “Or would you want it somewhere else? A secret for just you and me?”

You can’t help it, chest heaving against his. His words are incredibly erotic, and they drive you towards your edge, eyes rolling back into your skull at the thought. Rhys hisses with satisfaction when your cunt clenches around him in response.

He has such a sinful way with his lips, nipping and biting and kissing in all of the right spots. You feel like a Goddess being worshiped by her loyal acolyte. The wetness of his mouth leaves a trail of pleasure down your skin, the cold air of his room licking at it in the best way.

Rhysand teases your breasts as he fucks into you, massaging one with a warm hand and the other with his mouth, rolling your nipple between his teeth and brushing his tongue over it. You pull at his hair and a hiss escapes your lips at the sting.

Your touch scalds him in the best way and he can’t help but to buck into you as your nails scape down his tanned skin again, pleading for everything he can give you.

He will give you it all.

Rhys takes extra care of you, reveling in the sounds you’re making for him. He doesn’t care that he’s hosting a party outside of this door, doesn’t care if someone comes near enough to hear your desperate pleas for him to go faster, to continue rubbing his fingers against your clit, to let you ride him. He almost wants someone to hear how he’s making you feel, making you scream.

Finally, his hand trails down to where his hips are jackknifing into your cunt at a steady pace. He leans back, staring down at where your bodies meet, your glistening cunt in the light washing into the room from the dimmed lights. He licks his lips, vowing to taste you after this.

His light touch makes you gasp and buck up, fingers treading softly over your clit, drawing you closer and closer to the edge of your orgasm, that hot feeling coiling in your gut.

Rhysand’s thumb presses hot against your clit as his cock buries into you so deeply you see stars for a moment. You clench your legs together instinctively but he’s already there, keeping them spread wide with his own thick thighs as he quickens his pace.

“Rhys,” you cry, hands fisting into the sheets as he works you towards your pleasure, “Please. Please!”

“Please what?” he grunts. He can’t look away from your perfect cunt, the way it swallows his cock up, taking him so greedily. “C’mon, Darling, gotta use your words.”

You press your head back into the pillow, mouth slack in ecstasy. The sight makes his cock twitch, makes him want to shove it right between your perfectly ‘o’ shaped lips, feel the tightness of your throat wrapped around him as he cums.

“Please, don’t stop,” you choke, letting yourself fall into utter bliss.

Rhys doesn’t stop. He keeps working you through your orgasm until he’s cumming right there with you, hot and pulsing into your throbbing cunt.

He collapses next to you, pulling you in tightly to his chest as if you’re already too far apart from him. Rhys presses his forehead against yours, eyes squeezed tightly shut. His chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, panting across your cheeks with every exhale he takes.

“Rhys?” you ask when you’ve settled into your afterglow, his fingers playing with your hair mindlessly.

He hasn’t let you go since, hardly long enough for him to clean you up and let you use the restroom, and then you were climbing right back into his soft bed, nestling into his warm embrace.

He hums languidly, utterly at peace with you here, even though the party is still in full effect outside. There’s muffled cheering about a keg stand and wolfish laughter rattles the house but even then, it feels like it’s just you and him alone in your own little world. “What?”

“What did you tag on the building earlier?” Your eyes slip shut and the question comes out shy.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, cheeks, and finally a slow kiss to your mouth, his tongue coaxing you deeper into his arms.

“I tagged it with a violet rose.”

“A violet rose? Why’s that?”

He’s silent for so long that you think maybe he’s fallen asleep, cracking one eye open to see, but he’s staring down at you with soft eyes and red cheeks. He swallows harshly and for a moment you’re afraid that he’s not going to explain, that you’ll have to look it up after he falls asleep.

“Darling, a violet rose represents love at first sight.”

[romantasyreader28]

Tag game

break in if you want, I do all the time❤️

My result:

Keep it going:

@writingsbychlo @girl-that-wants-to-die @tsunami-of-tears @thenovocianelullaby @thatacotargirl @lady-of-tearshed @lottieslittlelife @lilac-dreams-1687 @bored-dromaeosaur @del-rey-doll @justnotme1995 @just-shower-thoughts @florence-end @pit-and-the-pen @blondwhowrites @princessyuwa @acotarxreader @acourtofquestions @assassinsblade @motherfeyre-archeron

[romantasyreader28]

Istg I've read this

@acotarxreader @pit-and-the-pen @thatacotargirl @bat-boys @claireswritingcorner @a-court-of-fics-and-errors @assassinsblade

@sarawritestories @tsunami-of-tears @lady-of-tearshed @utterlyotterlyx

Have you guys read this or written smth like this? Btw, all of your works are amazing, love y'all ❤

Can someone help me? I’m looking for a fanfic that the reader is an Azriel x Archeron sister where she left her family to go fight or work or something.

And one day she turns up in Velaris and Azriel is taken by her and starts spreading his wings and Rhys and Cassian are laughing and I think Elain is a bit jealous?

Does anyone know what I’m talking about

[clonethire]

Slightly alone

warnings: mention of self harm

chapter 2

It was a mild warm spring day when I woke up. The sun was beaming through my window and groggily I snatched my blanket over my eyes.

I didn´t want to wake up. The last days were hard on me. A constant tiredness ached in my bones and my mental health got worse. But I couldn´t go to my sisters or the Inner Circle. They wouldn´t be interested anyways.

So with the tiredness in my bones I got out of bed. Slowly, so very slowly, I made my way to the bath, washed myself and got into a fuzzy hoodie. The main thing was that my arms were covered.

I stumbled into the dining room and sat quietly. And alone.

My appetite was washed away when I saw the food, but I forced myself to eat at least a toast and some bacon. 

After breakfast I made my way to the training area. Maybe Cass was there and could teach me again. He was the only one who saw my scars. By accident, but he saw them but didn´t forced me to say anything, to explain anything. Since then I trained without my hoodie.

Halfway arcross the house I stumbled over Azriel. He was coming out of his room and stopped completely when he saw me. My cheeks grew a little red and a shy smile formed on my face.

“Hi, Azriel.” My voice was quiet but I couldn´t get myself to speak louder. It was as if my voice was stolen away from me.

He nodded and flashed me a quick smile. I scraped all of my courage together and looked up into his magnificent hazel eyes and asked: “Would you like to go on a walk this afternoon?”

As if he wasn´t aware that I was standing there, his head snapped to me and his eyes widened slightly. He cleared his throat akwardly and shook his head.

“Sorry. I´m busy today.”

And that´s when my whole confidence crumbled and my heart shattered a little more. Without words I nodded and he said no words and walked away.

Sadness and remorse settled in my veins and I quietly walked to the training room.

                                               XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

The same afternoon I walked into the town house and grabbed an apple. My mood was down but when I thought it couldn´t get any worse I looked to the gardens. 

And there he sat.

With my sister. Elain.

My heart broke for good.

Of course it was her. It was always her. Always.

And even my mate was on her side. Looking at her as if she was his whole world.

After this afternoon Cassian noted that Kora had her hoodie back on. Even when it was only him.

[sarawritestories]

My Wife

Cassian X Fem Reader

Summary: You are excited to walk down the aisle to see your mate

Content Warning: none!

A/N: As you are all reading this, I will be getting married! Nothing feels better than to celebrate with you all with a fic celebrating my favorite bat! With a surprise at the bottom

Dividers: @tsunami-of-tears

"You ready?" Rhysand whispered as the music changed and the scraping of chairs as guests began to rise.

The doors opened, and your eyes immediately found the Hazel eyes. The warmth settled against your bones as you looked on to your mate, waiting for you at the end of the aisle. The illyrian general gave up his leathers for a suit and tie. Cassian's smile took your breath away, his hair pulled halfway up. A beard covering his tanned face. The sole siphon glistened against his chest.

"Yes, I'm ready!" You looked over at Rhys and his extended arm and gripped your hand against the muscle of his bicep. "Thank you for giving me away."

"Anything for you, Darling." Rhys kissed your cheek before leading you down to your mate.

Cassian's breath hitched at the sight of you on Rhysand's arm. The white gown with the lace off the shoulder sleeve, sweetheart neckline, and skirts flaring down past your hips. Red flowers in your hand and a replica of his siphon pinned into your hair. Your eyes were glowing, and he could feel your excitement down the bond matching his own. His heart was thundering, and he felt a cool whisp against his hand.

"Here is your, girl." Azriel whispered, slapping a hand between his wings.

Cassian felt the tears line his eyes as you approached. Rhysand smiled at his best friend, his general, his brother as he handed you off to Cassian, his calloused fingers clasping around yours.

Cassian couldn't help but gaze at your smile before reaching your eyes. He squeezed your hand, "Hi." He whispered.

"Hi." You whispered back the grin, never wavering.

The General pressed his forehead to yours, "You look breathtaking, Sweetheart."

"So do you."

"Let's do this, Baby."

The ceremony was a perfect blend of Illyrian tradition and traditions of the night court. Red ribbon tied between your entwined hands. "Cassian, kiss your mate, and your new wife."

Cassian cupped your face in his palm, "About time." He muttered as he pressed his lips to yours. Butterflies flutter in your stomach from the kiss as though it was the first time. He pulled away, and your eyes slowly opened to meet his warm hazel eyes. "My beautiful, sweet wife." His mouth hovered over yours. "My wife." And he kissed you once more.

This is technically to go with my Unwavering Presence series, but @dawneternal gave me a beautiful depiction of my favorite general and my strong reader whose love for her Illyrian is as strong as the love for my future husband.

Love you all!

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