#acotarxreader

[batboysanonymous]

A Line Between Us

Summary: Y/n thought she could bury her feelings for Cassian beneath years of playful banter and endless training sessions. But when a single misstep shatters their routine and forces them into a moment too intimate to ignore, the boundaries between friendship and something more begin to crack—and neither of them are ready for the fallout.

Pt. I - Pt. II

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The sun had barely risen over Velaris, casting a soft golden hue across the sky, when Y/n found herself on the training grounds. The crisp morning air bit at her skin, but she relished the chill, allowing it to clear her mind. She stretched, watching her breath fog in front of her, and waited for Cassian.

As if summoned by her thoughts, the familiar sound of boots crunching on the gravel reached her ears. She turned just as Cassian strolled in, a cocky grin plastered on his face, hair disheveled in a way that made her heart skip a beat. His presence was magnetic, commanding, and as usual, it set her nerves on edge.

"You're early," Cassian remarked, voice rough with sleep yet laced with amusement. His eyes, dark and filled with mischief, scanned her with an intensity that left her breathless.

"I could say the same for you," she retorted, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest.

Cassian chuckled, the sound warming her more than the rising sun ever could. "What can I say? I couldn't leave my favorite training partner waiting."

She rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. Cassian had that effect on people—on her. They had been best friends for years, ever since Rhysand’s court had taken her in. Back then, she had been nothing but a broken shadow of herself, clinging to the remnants of a life she could no longer return to. Cassian had been the first to see past the cracks in her armor, the first to treat her as though she were whole. He had been her anchor in the storm, her light in the suffocating dark.

But those years had come with their price. Somewhere along the way, admiration had twisted into something far deeper, far more dangerous. She had fallen for him, and it terrified her. Cassian was unattainable, his reputation cemented in the tales of his charm and conquests. He was a man whose heart seemed perpetually just out of reach, and Y/n had convinced herself long ago that hers was not the one he would choose—if he ever chose at all.

"Ready to get your ass kicked?" she teased, grabbing her weapon from the rack nearby. The weight of the blade in her hand was familiar, grounding.

Cassian smirked, stepping closer until the space between them seemed to disappear entirely. His gaze softened, and for a fleeting moment, Y/n thought she saw something deeper in his eyes. A vulnerability. A hesitation. "You wish, sweetheart."

They squared off, the tension between them crackling like a live wire. Every movement, every swing of their blades, felt like a conversation unspoken. Y/n knew Cassian wasn’t holding back; she could see it in the way his blows came faster, harder, testing her limits. But she met him strike for strike, her body moving instinctively, driven by muscle memory and years of training.

“You’re getting faster,” Cassian admitted between grunts, blocking her strike with ease. The corner of his mouth quirked upward. “Almost impressed.”

“Almost?” she panted, sweat beginning to bead at her brow. “I’ll remember that when you’re flat on your back.”

His laughter was a low rumble, a sound that seemed to wrap around her like a warm embrace. “Careful, Y/n. That almost sounded like a challenge.”

“It was.”

Their blades clashed again, the sound ringing out across the empty grounds. Y/n pushed herself harder, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of an easy victory. But she didn’t anticipate the misstep—a slick patch of dew-covered grass that sent her foot sliding out from under her.

The world seemed to slow as she stumbled, her balance tipping dangerously. Cassian’s eyes widened in alarm, and he surged forward to catch her. But the angle was wrong, their combined momentum too much. His arm hooked around her waist just as she fell, his grip tightening instinctively.

The next thing she knew, they were on the ground, her body pinned beneath his.

Her breath hitched, the weight of him stealing the air from her lungs. Cassian’s face was mere inches from hers, his dark hair falling into his eyes. She could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest against hers, could see the flicker of panic fade into something else—something she didn’t dare name.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice rough, tinged with concern.

Y/n nodded, but her words caught in her throat. She was too aware of everything—his hands, his scent, the way his gaze seemed to search hers as if seeking answers she wasn’t ready to give.

Neither of them moved. The world around them fell away, leaving only the two of them tangled together in a moment that felt both eternal and fleeting.

“Cassian,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. His eyes softened, and for a heartbeat, she thought she saw him lean closer.

Then, as if remembering himself, he pulled back sharply, rising to his feet and offering her a hand. She took it, her fingers trembling as they brushed against his. But as soon as she was upright, he stepped away, putting space between them.

“Let’s call it a day,” he said, his tone brisk, detached.

Hurt flared in her chest. She clenched her fists at her sides, unwilling to let him retreat without addressing the growing chasm between them.

“Cass” she said, her voice stronger than she felt. He stopped but didn’t turn to face her. She continued, and before she could stop herself, she said: “I wish you would think of me when I wasn’t right in front of you.”

His shoulders stiffened, the words striking him like a physical blow. When he finally turned, his face was unreadable, his eyes dark and stormy. For a moment, she thought he might say something, might finally break the silence that had stretched between them for so long.

But instead, he shook his head. “Don’t do this, Y/n,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. And then he was gone, leaving her alone on the training grounds with nothing but the weight of unspoken words and the ache in her chest.

Unbeknownst to her, Cassian paused just out of sight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His wings trembled, his breaths uneven as he stared at the ground. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up—this endless game of pretending she didn’t mean everything to him.

For both of their sakes, he had to try.

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[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. 

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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]

Lips of an Angel (Part 3)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Based on the song ‘Lips of an Angel’ by Hinder. Azriel left you for Elain. After finding out that he has a child he didn’t know about, he’s furious.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1,121

(Part 1) (Part 2)

Notes: Literally so short but hopefully it’s worth it. 💙

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Rhysand feels Azriel before he even arrives.

There’s a dark static in the air, charged like lightning ready to strike. The shadows of the room grow darker around him; seeping through the cracks of every floorboard, crawling down the corners of the walls, painting them in long, black strokes. Tendrils of anger soaked night billow in from the slats of the framed windows like thick fumes, as if Azriel is trying to smoke him out.

If Rhysand could understand their inky whispers, he thinks they would be screeching.

He feels his own powers reacting, zipping through his blood in excitement, eager at the chance to play. It’s his inner beast, calling and clawing its way up his throat in response to the dark power of his brother, trying to intimidate him.

His shadowsinger is looking for a fight.

Tendrils of black climb up the sides of his oak desk like an amoeba seeking a host, pincers ready to grab on and not let go. He has to plant his palms flat over his work to keep them from getting swept away in the tornado of rage.

Rhysand’s eyes glow violet as the faelight is swallowed by the onyx shadows. His heart beats unevenly in his chest as he waits, spine stiff and body frozen in his chair, the creature within him threatening to burst forth from his chest as he waits for Azriel.

The shadowsinger winnows into the room, splintering through his shadows with ease. They’re wailing like lost souls, coiling around Rhysand’s limbs to trap the High Lord in his spot should he try and pounce. He’s breathing harshly, well past the point of seeing red. His siphons are glowing the brightest he’s ever seen, thrumming with a newfound power he’d been hiding within himself for far too long.

Seven blazing blue beams are consumed by the wall of black he’s met with when he appears in Rhysand’s office. They’re vibrating with so much power Azriel’s half convinced that they’ll shatter like his aching heart.

Betrayal hangs heavy in the air and its putrid scent chokes Rhysand as it mixes with Azriel’s smoldering fury. Fingers sharpen into dark claws, scraping against the desk, tearing through the thin documents with ease and digging into the thick wood. It’s as much restraint he has, for if Azriel does not remove his shadows, he will take matters into his own hands.

Azriel’s furious as he realizes, the apples of his cheeks red with rage. He’s panting like a feral hound but acts as their master as he calls his shadows to him. They melt against Rhysands wrists, pinpricks of acid against his tan skin as the obey.

A shadow snakes its way back towards Azriel, weaving its way around shaking hands curled into tight fists. It rests at his shoulder like a crow, its caw of war is something even Rhysand can make out clearly.

Violet eyes meet blazing gold, a war between two brothers.

Rhysand had to give it to his spymaster. He could see how the male was spiraling, even without having to look into his mind. He had nearly felt the realm shift on its axis when his nightmarish powers released, sleeping throughout the city like icy death.

“What’s on your mind, Azriel?” Rhysand questions. His tone is the same coolness he uses when talking to Beron or Tamlin. It’s never been directed at Azriel before and it only makes him angrier, wings tightening and shadows hissing threats in his ears.

“Don’t play coy, Rhysand,” his shadowsinger spits. His fingers twitch, begging to uncurl and reach for the familiar cool hilts of his swords. He hates it. Hates that Rhysand is taking the easy way out and putting on his front as High Lord, making it known that he is the true ruler, instead of acting that as an understanding brother.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.” The enervated lilt to his voice sharpens as he catches Azriel’s slight movements, his instinct to carve answers from the flesh of his brother. But Rhysand is no fool and he will not be treated as such.

He’s toying with him, of this Azriel knows. Waiting to see how he reacts. If he was a better male he would sit down in the plush chair across from his brother and talk about it. But he’s not. He’s steaming mad and Rhysand knows this. The beast lurking beneath his skin transforms the emotions to feral rage. Azriel blinks the red from his vision. Once. Twice.

Rhysand understands exactly why he’s here because the darkness has reported no other bodies within the River House with them. He’s sent his mate and his son away, sensing his burning wrath through whatever mental bonds he shared with them.

Protecting his mate and his kin.

Something Azriel has never gotten the chance to do, because he hadn’t even been aware he had a child of his own.

His stomach twists and the flare of outrage nearly shoves him over the edge. Acid rips through his organs and up his throat and Azriel takes a shuddering breath as he pulls on the reins with all his might. The darkness inside of him feels like that of a crow, picking at the cracks in his armor like a sledgehammer with its beak, slowly chipping away at his hold.

He growls at the feeling in his chest, a hot knife to his heart as he thinks about what Rhys has kept from him, from what he’s done to you, to his son.

“I have a son.” The admission alone both soothes and angers him. A storm of warmth and bitter darkness battle for power.

Rhysand only hums, and the darkness wins out.

Azriel bares his teeth, speaking before his brother deigns to respond with an indifferent goad that will only make him more furious. “Why didn’t I know, but you do?”

Watching the stars wink out of the violet skies that are Rhysand eyes should scare his beast away, but it only reacts to it, the gold of his eyes swirling with black shadows.

“You never realized or asked about what we were doing when you weren’t around because you were too busy with your head shoved up Elain’s skirts. Maybe I should appoint a new spymaster,” Rhysand rasps lowly, and they both flinch. A brutal admission that sends shame zinging up his spine. His knees nearly give out with it and he growls like a rabid animal in response, Rhysand’s power and his shadows swathing the room into complete black.

They’ve fought in his darkness before, and now, as Azriel launches himself across the large desk, Rhys is ready, his own beast waiting for him with raised fists.

[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 2 -

my broody husband | 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.

part one | main masterlist

SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS

my heart has wings • azriel x reader

↳ by @kymawrites

i got cursed like eve got bitten • azriel x rhysand’s sister!reader

↳ by @daycourtofficial

birds of a feather | we should stick together • azriel x reader

↳ by @serpentandlily (very angsty, unrequited love, death)

cauldron-born | part two • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @itsswritten

only in my dreams • azriel x reader

↳ by @really-fanny-longbottom (angst)

stranded • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @mcuamerica

exiled by fire • azriel x vanserra!reader

↳ by @acotar-writing

and i wouldn’t marry me, either | part two • azriel x reader

↳ by @bluetimeombre

farewell, my love • azriel x reader

↳ by @allhopesforlove

blessed mistakes • azriel x reader

↳ by @mellowmusings

despite the hatred, despite the love | part two | part three • azriel x reader

↳ by @lidiasloca

scattered vows | part two • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @azrielslightintheshadows

betrayal • azriel x oc

↳ by @liahaslosthermind

can’t bring myself to hate you • azriel x reader

↳ by @tadpolesonalgae

the spymaster’s secret • azriel x reader

↳ by @liahaslosthermind

silence | part two | part three • azriel x healer!reader

↳ by @azmageddon

sunlight in burgundy | part two • azriel x reader

↳ by @svearehnn

god’s game • azriel x oc

↳ by @toodelusionalforreality

ONE-SHOTS - BLURBS - HC’S

anything for you • azriel x reader

↳ by @kymawrites (hurt/comfort, fluff, bad periods)

not me • azriel x reader

↳ by @azsazz (smut, angst but fluff at the end)

at the sake of you • s&r officer!azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @websterss (angst, car accident, fluff)

a helping hand • azriel x reader

↳ by @inkedinshadows (angst, comfort)

he’s my mate • azriel x reader

↳ by @moosesarecute (angst, torture, fluff, comfort)

paper trail • azriel x reader

↳ by @acotarxreader (fluff, angst, comfort, tw: dv)

i only pray, don’t fall away from me • azriel x reader

↳ by @ceoofyearning (hurt/comfort, anxiety, nightmares)

centuries coming • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @parkerslatte (angst but happy ending)

dinner and dessert • azriel x pregnant!oc

↳ by @ninthcircleofprythian (smut)

drifting away • azriel x reader

↳ by @solbaby7 (angst, mental health issues)

“i think you are pretty attractive yourself” • azriel x reader

↳ by @narnianflame (fluff)

here without you • azriel x reader

↳ by @readychilledwine (angst)

until the last breath • azriel x reader

↳ by @inkedinshadows (angst, death)

i love hate you • azriel x reader

↳ by @mika-no-sekai-blog (angst, jealousy, fluff at the end)

the other woman • azriel x necromancer!reader

↳ by @tadpolesonalgae (angst, violence)

confession • azriel x reader

↳ by @harrystylesfan2686 (very fluffy)

is it love, or just the fear of loneliness? • azriel x reader

↳ by @lidiasloca (angst, doubts, fluff)

love in ink • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @itsswritten (angst, rejection, blood)

his shadows • azriel x reader

↳ by @cyripticchronicler (fluff, slight angst, a little possessive!azriel)

no damsels here • azriel x reader

↳ by @olive-main (fluff, pining)

in every universe • azriel x reader

↳ by @illyrianbitch (fluff)

by the candlelight • azriel x reader

↳ by @manicmanuscription (suggestive, pining)

flicker out • azriel x reader

↳ by @thelov3lybookworm (angst but happy ending)

healing • azriel x reader

↳ by @cyripticchronicler (angst, torture, comfort, tw: sa)

warm • azriel x reader

↳ by @redheadspark (fluff)

weight in gold • azriel x seraphim!reader

↳ by @yiiyiiwrites (hurt/comfort, angst)

frosted hearts • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @moonlitstoriess (angst, comfort, smut)

a raging storm • azriel x reader

↳ by @svearehnn (angst)

lay your hand in mine • azriel x reader

↳ by @kymawrites (violence, hurt/comfort, smut)

escaping • azriel x reader

↳ by @eviesaurusrex (fluff)

[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

[batboysanonymous]

Shadows Between Us

Tropes: Slowburn, Brothers best friend, fated mates

Summary: Y/N’s world shatters when the mating bond snaps into place with Azriel, her brother Cassian’s best friend, and the one person who doesn’t want her.

Pt. II, Pt. III

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Y/N’s fingers hovered over the last strap of her Illyrian training leathers, the leather stiff and worn from years of use. Her reflection in the ornate mirror stared back at her, a hollow version of the confident warrior she once believed herself to be. Her chest tightened as she smoothed the dark fabric. This armor protected her from the elements—but not from him.

Azriel.

The name echoed in her mind, a haunting melody she couldn’t escape. The bond between them was a cruel twist of fate, tying her to someone who didn’t want her. Not like that. Not like a mate.

Her brother, Cassian, was oblivious to the turmoil. She could hear his booming laughter from down the hall, sparring with Nesta in their private suite. Her brother’s bond with Nesta was vibrant and undeniable, like the sun blazing in the sky. Theirs was a bond that had been welcomed, nurtured. Nothing like hers.

“Are you ready?” Nesta’s voice broke through her thoughts. She leaned against the doorway, her sharp features softened by genuine concern.

“I’m fine,” Y/N lied, tightening her armor. “Just another day of training.”

Nesta crossed her arms, skeptical as always. “You don’t have to put yourself through this. If Azriel is going to act like a blind, ungrateful idiot, that’s on him.”

Y/N flinched but didn’t let her expression falter. Nesta had seen too much already, had heard the muffled sobs Y/N tried to hide. It was Nesta, after all, who had been scouring ancient libraries for a way to break the mating bond.

“What if there’s no way to break it?” Y/N had asked one desperate night.

“There’s always a way,” Nesta had replied firmly, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “Even if I have to tear it from the Cauldron’s hands myself.”

Nesta’s fierce determination was both a balm and a knife. Y/N wanted to believe her, but the bond’s presence was constant, unyielding, like a second heartbeat she couldn’t escape.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Azriel’s indifference wasn’t new, but it hadn’t always been this unbearable. For years, he had been polite, distant, a quiet presence in her life. That changed the night the bond snapped into place. She had felt it instantly, the overwhelming connection that pulled her toward him like gravity. She thought it would be the start of something beautiful.

It wasn’t.

The memory of that night was etched into her mind:

“I didn’t ask for this,” Azriel had said, his voice a low growl. Shadows curled around him protectively as he paced the room. “This bond—it’s a mistake.”

Cassian had been livid. “How dare you?” he had roared, fists clenched. “She’s your mate. You’re supposed to protect her, cherish her—”

“I didn’t ask for her,” Azriel had interrupted, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. “And I don’t want her.”

Y/N had been listening from the shadows, her heart shattering with every word. She had fled before either of them noticed her.

That night had marked the beginning of her descent into a quiet, agonizing heartbreak. Azriel didn’t want her. And now, he barely looked at her unless duty required it.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The training grounds were alive with the sounds of sparring and laughter when Y/N arrived. Cassian greeted her with a grin, his wings flaring dramatically as he held up his practice sword. Nesta sat on the sidelines, her sharp gaze keeping an eye on everything, especially Y/N.

And then there was Azriel.

He leaned against a stone pillar, his hazel eyes scanning the room. His shadows curled lazily around him, an ever-present reminder of his power. When his gaze landed on Y/N, his expression didn’t change, but she felt the weight of his stare.

“Late again,” Cassian teased, tossing her a wooden sword. “Better be ready. Nesta’s been waiting to knock you on your ass.”

“Like that’s new,” Y/N shot back, forcing a smile.

Azriel said nothing, his shadows whispering secrets she wasn’t privy to. He didn’t look at her again, not as she stepped into the sparring ring with Nesta or as she exchanged blow after blow with her sister-in-law. But she felt him watching all the same, a phantom touch that set her on edge.

“Keep your guard up,” Nesta barked, her blade coming down in a swift arc.

Y/N blocked it, her muscles straining. “I’m trying!”

“Try harder,” Nesta said, her voice sharp but not unkind. She feinted left and landed a glancing blow to Y/N’s ribs. “You’re distracted.”

“Am not,” Y/N muttered, even as her mind screamed at her to stop lying.

“You’re predictable,” Nesta continued, stepping back. “And predictable gets you killed.”

Cassian clapped from the sidelines. “That’s my mate. Brutally honest and brutally effective.”

Nesta rolled her eyes but smiled faintly, her gaze flickering to Y/N. “You need to focus, or—”

“I’ve got it,” Y/N snapped, irritation bubbling to the surface. “Let’s go again.”

But even as they resumed, her movements were sluggish, her thoughts fractured. Azriel’s presence was suffocating, his silence louder than any words he could have spoken. When the session ended, Y/N barely waited for Cassian’s critique before heading toward the showers.

“Y/N.”

His voice stopped her in her tracks. She turned to find Azriel standing a few feet away, his shadows coiling around his boots.

“What?” she said, her tone sharper than intended.

He hesitated, his expression unreadable. “We need to talk.”

Her heart twisted painfully, but she forced herself to stand tall. “About?”

“The bond,” he said, his voice low. “I—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, her throat tightening. “I already know how you feel.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t back down. “You don’t.”

“Don’t I?” she snapped, stepping closer. “You don’t want me. You don’t want this bond. What else is there to say?”

“It’s not that simple,” he said, frustration creeping into his tone.

“It is,” she said, her voice trembling. “You’ve made it perfectly clear.”

His shadows stilled, wrapping tightly around him as if to shield him from her words. “I can’t give you what you want.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” she lied, her voice breaking. “Except maybe honesty. But I guess that’s too much to ask.”

She turned and walked away, ignoring the pain that threatened to consume her.

That night, Y/N lay awake, staring at the ceiling of her room. The bond pulsed faintly, a reminder that no matter how far she ran, she could never escape him. But the tears didn’t come. She was empty, her heart a hollow shell.

In the darkness, she made a decision: If Azriel didn’t want the bond, she wouldn’t force him to accept it.

Even if it killed her.

[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

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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