#actoar fanfic

[mirrorballpages]

The next morning, Azriel wasn’t sure if she would come to the garden. He wasn’t even sure if she would want to be around him again after yesterday. He had replayed the moment in his mind for the rest of the day—her soft words, the faint flicker of warmth in her eyes as she smiled at him. He could still feel the press of her small hand in his, the way she hadn’t pulled away from his scars.

He had tried to bury the memory beneath a mountain of work. Cassian’s booming laughter and Nesta’s sharp remarks had grated at him more than usual, his frayed patience threatening to snap. But it wasn’t their fault.

This pull—this ridiculous, maddening pull—was the real problem.

He kept telling his shadows to stay away, to stop hovering near her, but they didn’t listen. The moment her footsteps sounded on the stairs yesterday, they had whispered incessantly: “Elain… Elain…”

And when they had shouted, “She is hurt! She needs you!” he had nearly flown into the garden. His heart had thundered, his blood rushing with the same panic that had consumed him when she’d been dragged to the Cauldron.

But it wasn’t the Cauldron this time. It wasn’t some deadly enemy.

It was a thorn. A small cut, barely worth noting.

Still, the panic hadn’t left him. It lingered, tightening his chest as his hands closed over hers. Her skin was soft against his, delicate, and he’d hesitated to touch her at first, afraid of what she might see in the gnarled ridges of his scars.

But she hadn’t flinched.

When her brown eyes flicked up to meet his, wide and trusting, his shadows had murmured softly, “Light and grace.”

*Coming Soon to A03*

[flickering-chandelier]

Long Story Short 

Pairing: Single Dad Cassian x Bestie Reader

Synopsis: Cassian loved Reader for as long as he could remember, but there never seemed to be any opportunity for more. Then what was meant to be a random one night stand ends with Cassian, alone, with a baby in his arms. Throughout this new journey in his life, Reader is there for him in ways that he never could have expected.

Based on this request! 🩷

Warnings: smut, pregnancy, swearing, a lil angst, mutual pining

Word Count: 6k

Cassian’s heart ached as he watched you settle in beside your lover, his arm slinging around your shoulders, your smile bright and loving as you looked at him, in your own little world as your friends talked and laughed at the table around you. 

He hated it when you brought him along to what he considered to be family functions, meant for the people Cassian loved. And that asshole certainly did not fit into that category. 

Okay, he could concede that this guy wasn’t that bad. But, he certainly wasn’t good enough for you. Nobody ever could be, but certainly not Zaden. 

Cassian knew he wasn’t good enough for you either, but he would try his damn hardest to be everything you needed if you ever gave him the chance. He had loved you so intensely for so long, he couldn’t imagine how you hadn’t already figured it out. He felt like the whole world dimmed in your presence, with you standing out in vibrant color against everything else. 

Suddenly, Azriel nudged him subtly with his elbow, and Cassian came back to real life, to the one where you loved him as a friend and nothing more, where you went to Zaden’s bed every night --

Rhysand was looking at him expectantly. Cassian cleared his throat. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked how training is going in the mountains,” Rhysand purred, clearly amused to catch Cassian in the middle of a daydream. 

He was glad for the distraction, and gave them all updates about how the Illyrian armies were shaping up, before suffering through the rest of dinner with you across from him.

Cassian bolted out of his seat as soon as the plates were cleared, heading into the city, needing fresh air, needing some kind of distraction that would make his heart stop hurting for just a little bit. 

He ended up at a bar, tossing back glass after glass of amber liquid until a stranger sat right next to him, her arm brushing against his as she settled on top of the stool. 

When he looked at her, her eyes were already locked on his, her mouth curved into a sultry smile. She was beautiful, he had to admit. Not as beautiful as you obviously, but attractive nevertheless. 

She turned fully towards him, making small talk as she brushed her fingers along his arm. 

And he thought this could be a damn good distraction. 

---

Weeks later, you burst through Cassian’s door, tears in your eyes. 

Cassian stood up immediately, and you ran to him, burying your face in his chest as he held you close. “What is it?” he asked. 

“Zaden broke up with me,” you sniffed. 

He held you tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “What? Why?”

You groaned. “He said it just wasn’t working.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, tilting your chin up so he could look at you. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Can we just hang out today?” You asked. “Is that okay?” 

“Of course it is,” he said, his heart leaping that he was the one you ran to. 

For the rest of the day, the two of you lounged around, and Cassian was doing everything he could to make you feel better.

When the sun dipped below the horizon, you were settled under his arm, your head against his chest. “I can’t believe I wasn’t good enough for him,” you said quietly. 

“No, don’t do that,” he said, and you tilted your head up to look at him curiously. “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.” 

“Cassian,” you whispered. 

“I mean it,” he murmured. Surely, you had to know. After all this time, how could you not see it?

Your breath hitched, your gaze dipping to Cassian’s lips for a moment. 

Then you were leaning toward him, your lips gently meeting his. He sucked in a breath, and shifted you so you were sitting on top of him. You were holding his face in your hands, kissing him and this is all he’s ever wanted, and he longed to melt into you and stay there forever, but…

He pulled back from you, his heart breaking. “You’re sad and you’re vulnerable. We shouldn’t.”

“Cassian,” you said, your voice breaking. “Have you ever thought about… us?” 

His heart lurched, his mind reeling, trying to decide how much to tell you. “Of course I have,” he said quietly, running his thumb lightly across your cheekbone.

Something like hope flickered in your eyes, and Cassian’s heart swelled. “You have?” You whispered. 

Cassian almost laughed, years of pining over you flashing through his mind. He couldn’t stop himself from leaning in and kissing you softly. “You’re incredible,” was all he could manage.

You laughed lightly. “So are you…” Your voice trailed off, your eyes darting away from his, a habit he knew meant you were trying to find the courage to say something. After a moment, your eyes locked on his again and you said softly, “Maybe we could be incredible together.”

Your name rushed out of Cassian’s mouth like a gasp before he could stop it. His heart sank into his stomach. He wanted you. Of course he did. But he didn’t want to be your rebound, the one you only noticed right after someone else had broken your heart. He wanted to be your first choice, the only one that mattered. 

He ran his thumb along your cheekbone. “If you really want to give us a shot… I think we should wait. Your emotions are all over the place right now, and I don’t --” he stopped short. 

Your eyes were swimming with pain as you looked at him, your hands on his shoulders. It broke his heart. “You don’t what?” you whispered.

I don’t want to get my hopes up. I don’t want you to hurt me, because I wouldn’t survive it. Not from you.

He swallowed. “I just think we should wait a few weeks. Give yourself time to get over Zaden.”

You slid off his lap and stood up, hardly looking at him. “Okay,” you said quietly. 

And without another word, you were gone.

Cassian prayed to the Mother that he hadn’t just fucked up his one chance.

---

A few days later, Cassian was still reeling from what you said. You had barely spoken since then, which was putting him even more on edge. 

Multiple times, he had contemplated throwing his dignity out the window and running to you, begging you to forget everything he had said and be with him already. 

But he wouldn’t do it. If he was going to be with you, he had to know it was because you actually wanted him. 

He ended up back at the bar that night, to drink away his problems, to soothe the anxiety he felt every time he thought of you just the slightest bit. 

Cassian had been sitting there for about an hour when a woman sidled up to him. He was about to brush her away, not in the mood, until he realized he knew her. It was his hookup from weeks ago. 

“Oh hey,” he said, wondering if she would even remember him. “Lana, right?”

She nodded, shooting him a tight smile that was nothing at all like the one he remembered. “I’m glad I ran into you. We -- umm. We need to talk.”

The tone in her voice sent him immediately on edge. He straightened, turning to face her fully. “About what?”

Lana winced slightly and that’s when it hit him. He didn’t pick up on it at first in the crowded room, but he could scent it now. “You’re pregnant,” he blurted. 

“Yes,” she said quietly, looking at him sheepishly. “It’s yours.”

“You’re sure?” Cassian choked out, his mind reeling.

“Trust me, I’m sure,” she ground out. 

“Wow.” He said. “Okay. Wow. This is -- Cauldron, this is…”

“Insane?” she offered.

He nodded, in a daze. “Sure. That works.”

Lana stayed silent, watching Cassian digest it. 

“I mean, I’m happy, I think,” Cassian said. “I’ve always wanted a family someday, and children are such a blessing. I just didn’t think it would be…now.”

“With a stranger,” she added. 

“Right.” He turned to Lana then, feeling like a complete idiot. “Gods, how are you feeling about all this?”

She smiled weakly. “About the same, I think. I hadn’t really thought about it, to be honest. Being a mom, I mean. Children are so rare, it wasn't ever something I really considered. But, I’m happy, I think. To have a baby.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding. “So… what do we do?”

Lana shrugged. “I have no idea.”

Cassian was almost embarrassed about what he was about to say. “We should… date, right? We should be a family?”

A slow smile lit up Lana’s face. “A family. I like that idea.”

“Me too,” he said. 

And that’s when Cassian remembered you. And what you had said. And the chance that he had just lost. 

But then he thought of the baby. His baby, his child. 

Maybe dreams could change. And maybe that was okay.

---

You had never been so embarrassed in your life. You understood where Cassian was coming from, of course. You understood how it looked, running right to him after Zaden had dumped you. 

But, his rejection still stung.

Cassian had been a near constant in your life for the past few decades, to the point where now you couldn’t even imagine how you had made it through anything without him. 

It wasn’t until more recently, when things with Zaden had started to go downhill, that you thought maybe it would be wonderful if your relationship with Cassian… changed. 

He was a good man. Endlessly attractive? Of course. Hilariously funny? You thought so, anyway. But, his heart. When you really sat down and thought about it, you realized you didn’t know anyone better on the planet. 

And to top it all off, he was your best friend. You already had such a strong foundation, you imagined it would be remarkably easy to fall into something else, something deeper. 

So, when he was holding you and calling you incredible, and looking at you in that way that only he ever has, you laid it on the line. You took the chance.

And it had completely backfired. 

He hadn’t said no, exactly. Just not right now. But wasn’t that the same thing? 

A loud knock on your door roused you from your thoughts. 

You knew who it was before you even opened the door, but you weren’t expecting him to look so frazzled. You had never seen Cassian look like he wasn’t in control.

“What’s going on?” You asked. 

He barreled into your apartment, barely stopping to look at you. He ran both his hands through his hair, and your eyes lingered for a second on the way his biceps flexed as he did so. You had to blink to force yourself to focus back on his face. 

“I’m going to be a dad.”

You laughed, but when he faced you fully, his eyes full of panic, you sobered. “Wait, you’re being serious?”

His jaw was clenched. “Completely serious. I hooked up with someone at a bar a few weeks ago. And she’s pregnant.”

“Cassian,” you breathed. It was all you could say.

“I know,” he said, and his expression became pained as he looked at you. “We’re going to try to be together. To be a family, for the baby.”

And that’s when you realized, he wasn’t just here because you were his best friend and he needed to talk to someone. He was here to tell you it wasn’t going to happen between the two of you. Ever.

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice even. “I’m here for you. Whatever you need, okay? I mean it.”

He looked so incredibly relieved that your heart swelled with love. “I’m so sorry. I know we said--”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off, unable to hear him say it. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” he said softly, stepping forward and taking your hand in his. “It’s just -- I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I know,” you murmured, trying to keep your tears in. “You should be a family.”

His eyes softened. “I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice breaking. 

“Don’t be,” you whispered.

It wasn’t until much later, after Cassian left, that you let yourself sob until your eyes burned, until your head was throbbing. 

You had your chance. And now it was gone. 

---

It was a while before things felt normal between you and Cassian again.

And as far as Cassian and Lana… well, it wasn’t exactly the epic romance that Cassian had always hoped to find. They got along, they had fun. But Cassian couldn’t help but wish there was more of a spark.

Maybe when the baby came, he thought. Maybe when they had this beautiful little life to bond over and protect together. 

But that worried him, too. As much as Lana said she was on board, he could tell she wasn’t as happy as he was. She had mentioned more than once that she never saw herself as a mother. And Cassian had no idea what it was to be a good dad -- what the hell were they going to do? What if they messed everything up? 

As the due date drew closer, he could tell Lana was getting even more anxious, which was to be expected. Right? 

When the due date was only days away, Cassian met up with Lana and immediately he could tell that something was wrong. She was wringing her hands nervously, trepidation coursing through every part of her. 

“I can’t do it,” she blurted out, before Cassian could say so much as a greeting. 

“What?”

“I can’t be a mother,” she said, tears suddenly streaming down her face. “I can’t play house with you. I can’t give this baby a good life. I can’t do it, Cassian.”

Cassian was suddenly furious. “What? You’re telling me this now?”

“I thought I could get used to the idea. I thought maybe if you and I fell in love, it would make it easier, but we're not. And we’re not going to be, are we?”

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “No, I don’t think so.”

“See?” she said. “We’re fooling ourselves if we really think the three of us could be a real family.”

“That’s bullshit,” he seethed. “We don’t have to be romantically together to be a family. To be there for our kid.”

“I don’t want to be,” she spat. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want this baby. I never did.”

Cassian reeled back a step, like she had slapped him. “You’re going to abandon your child?”

“It doesn’t feel like mine,” she whispered. “I don’t want it.”

He couldn’t stand to hear anymore, and didn’t want to be around to say something he would surely regret. Instead, he stormed past her, out into the night. 

---

“She said what?”

You were furious, pacing back and forth in your apartment.

“I’m going to be raising this kid on my own,” Cassian said, panicked. “What the fuck.”

“No, you won’t be,” you said, taking his hands in yours, trying to steady him, forcing him to face you. “I’m here. Rhysand and Feyre can help. I’m sure Az will help when he’s here --”

“I appreciate that, but it’s not the same,” he said sadly. “I can’t believe this is happening. I am not prepared for this.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “I’m so sorry, Cass.”

He sighed, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. Despite everything, despite how long it had been since there had been any possibility of something more between the two of you, your heart leaped at the contact. “What am I going to do?” He whispered.

“Take it one day at a time,” you said softly. “You’ll be okay.”

You prayed that it was true. 

---

Unsurprisingly, as soon as the baby was born, Lana hit the road without so much as a goodbye. Everyone rallied around Cassian for the first several weeks, you more than anyone. 

Cassian was exhausted, more terrified than he had ever been in his life, but also more in love than he could have ever thought possible. 

She was his whole world, the little bundle in his arms. She was the only thing that mattered. 

“I can take Asteria for a bit,” you said. “You should rest.”

It was the middle of the night. He had for all intents and purposes, moved into the river house, and you had basically moved in too. There was always someone around him, which he was endlessly grateful for, but he felt guilty that his whole family had essentially put their lives on hold for him, especially you. 

“It’s okay,” he grumbled. “I got it.”

“Cassian, when was the last time you slept?”

He paused, trying to remember. 

“If you don’t know, it’s been too long,” you said gently as you came up to stand next to him, resting your hand on his shoulder. 

Cassian leaned into your touch for a moment before he sighed and passed Asteria to you. “I won’t be long,” he said.

He passed out right there on the bed. 

When he woke up, the sun was shining through the window.

Cassian sat bolt upright in bed, and there you were, sitting in the rocking chair in the corner of the room with his daughter in your arms, freshly clothed.

“Afternoon, sunshine,” you chirped, smiling.

“Afternoon? I was out that long?” 

“You needed it,” you said.

“You should have woken me up,” he grumbled. 

“This is a team effort, remember? I love you, Cassian. I want to help.”

And for about the millionth time in his life, he thanked the Mother that he had you.

---

Asteria bounded out the front door, crashing into your legs, holding you tight with a grin. “You’re here!”

“Of course I’m here! I’m here all the time, you goof,” you teased, brushing some windswept curly hair out of her face. 

“Will you come color with me? Dad and Uncle Azzie were coloring with me, but they’re not very good,” she said, her voice dropping conspiratorially. 

“Well, sweetheart, we all have our different ways of expressing art,” you said, trying to hold back your laugh. “But, yes of course, I will color with you.”

She took your hand and led you inside. You shot an apologetic glance back to your boyfriend Landon, who followed you with a small smile. He wasn’t quite used to Asteria and Nyx yet. 

You followed Asteria into the kids’ playroom at the river house, where the whole family was meeting for dinner tonight. Cassian, Azriel, and Nyx were sitting on the floor, all coloring with crayons and pencils. 

Asteria motioned to Cassian’s and Azriel’s artwork, which just looked to you like random splotches of color. “See?” she whispered to you. 

“See what?” Cassian grinned at the two of you. 

Laughing, you said, “Asteria was just telling me about the art you and Uncle Azriel were creating.”

Azriel’s mouth quirked up into a tiny smile, looking fondly at Asteria. “You were making fun of our masterpieces, weren’t you?” 

“Nooooo,” she said, grinning. 

Slowly, his eyes locked on her, Azriel stood up. Asteria froze beside you. Then immediately he was across the room and had her in his arms, turning her upside down and jogging around the room while she squealed with delight. “You should always stay a terrible liar, kid,” he teased. 

Grinning, you sat down at the table next to Cassian, and Landon settled in next to you, somewhat awkwardly. 

Soon, you were all coloring contentedly, Asteria and Nyx talking all of your ears off. 

“Would you be able to pick Asteria up from daycare tomorrow?” Cassian asked you quietly. “I have to go to the mountains for a bit, and I’m not sure what time I’ll get back.”

“Of course,” you said, and felt Landon shift slightly beside you. 

Cassian glanced at him, a muscle in his jaw ticking. 

You fought the urge to sigh. Cassian and Landon didn’t get along, even though you had been dating for nearly a year. It was exhausting. Landon thought that Cassian relied on you too much to raise “his” kid. Cassian thought Landon wasn’t understanding enough about the situation. It had led to many fights between you and Landon, mostly because you usually sided with Cassian. 

Mercifully, Rhysand walked in then, announcing that it was time for dinner. 

“Wow!” Rhysand said dramatically, kneeling in front of her. “That is beautiful. Much better than what the grownups at the table accomplished.”

“Uncle Rhys! Look at my picture!” Asteria beamed, holding her paper high above her head.

“Not you too,” Cassian groaned. “I was going for an abstract piece!” 

Rhysand chuckled, “Maybe we can have Aunt Feyre give your dad some art lessons, what do you think?”

Asteria’s eyes widened. “That is a great idea.”

You all laughed as you filed into the dining room and settled in for dinner, pleasant chatter filling the room as you dug into the food in front of you.

Everything was going well, even Landon was socializing with everyone. 

Until, Asteria looked at you, casually saying, “Can you pass the potatoes, mom?”

Everyone glanced at you, but kept chatting as you passed the plate to her. 

Landon stiffened beside you, and Cassian’s eyes locked on yours across the table for a moment, his expression unreadable. 

The rest of the dinner went by fairly smoothly, except for Landon not saying a word to anyone for the rest of the night. 

Cassian pulled you into a hug as you were leaving, murmuring in your ear, “Good luck.”

You laughed and Landon raised his eyebrow at you. 

It wasn’t until the two of you made it back to your apartment that Landon finally turned to you, his eyes on fire. “You’re seriously just going to act like it didn’t happen?”

“What?” You asked, already annoyed. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“She called you mom.”

“So?” Honestly, it warmed your heart that Asteria saw you that way. 

“You’re not her mom. This is what I’m talking about, Cassian takes advantage of you,” he said, his voice raising.

“Don’t talk about him like that. He’s my family, Landon. Everything I do, I offer to do because I love them,” you said, your temper rising. “That’s not taking advantage.”

He shook his head, exasperated. “I don’t think I can do this anymore. You and Cassian -- It’s too weird.”

“It’s too weird?”

“Oh, come on,” he said angrily. “Don’t act like you don’t know that he’s in love with you. No wonder he wants you to play house with him so often.”

Your heart lurched. Cassian and you hadn’t talked about the possibility of something more since that night ages ago, before Lana, before Asteria. After Lana and Cassian had called it off, you thought that maybe something would happen, but Cassian had never brought it up again, and you had assumed that he didn’t feel that way anymore. You pushed through it, helping him in any way that you could. But, you never quite stopped having those feelings, couldn’t help but let your mind wander to what could have been every once in a while. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said finally. 

Landon let out a humorless laugh. “And you’re kidding yourself.”

“Leave then,” you spat. “We're done.”

As he left, all you could think about was Cassian and Asteria. And what you really wanted out of life. 

---

Cassian was carefully braiding Asteria’s hair when you stopped by a few days later. 

“Braids before bedtime?” You asked, smiling as you leaned against the door frame, watching Cassian's rough hands gently running his daughter's hair through his fingers.

“I want my hair to be curly tomorrow!” Asteria smiled.

“Good thing your dad got so good at braids, huh?” 

Cassian smiled at you warmly as he tied the end of her braid.

“You ready for bed, honey?” Cassian asked.

Asteria nodded, but looked at you. “Can you put me to bed?”

Your heart swelled, and you looked to Cassian, who nodded, his eyes swimming with affection.

“Of course,” you said, following her to her bedroom in Cassian's apartment.

You tucked Asteria into bed, and she looked up at you, looking contemplative. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what is it?” You asked, surprised by how serious she was being.

“Are you mad that I accidentally called you mom? I didn't mean to, it just came out,” she said.

“No, I'm not mad,” you said, surprised. “Did I seem mad?”

“You didn't, but… Landon did.”

Your heart broke a little. “Oh sweetheart, I'm sorry he made you feel like that. You don't need to worry about him. I won't be seeing him anymore.”

Asteria looked surprised. “It's just… you kind of are my mom. You do all the things that other kids’ moms do.”

You smiled, taking your hand in hers for a moment. “I do?”

She nodded. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. And you can call me whatever you want, okay?”

Asteria beamed, leaning back into her pillow. “Okay.”

You said goodnight, and found Cassian lingering in the hallway, his eyes slightly wide.

“What happened with you and Landon?” He asked. 

You sighed, walking with him to the living room, out of Asteria's earshot. “Nothing. It doesn't matter.”

He raised an eyebrow as the two of you settled on opposite chairs, facing each other. “It was because of that night at dinner, wasn't it? Because of what Asteria said?”

You bit your lip, hesitating, unsure how he would react to the truth.

The lack of response was enough for him to figure it out. He scoffed angrily. “You've got to be kidding me. Cauldron, I always hated that guy.”

“I know you two didn't get along--”

“That's an understatement,” Cassian growled. His hands were gripping the chair’s armrests so tightly, you thought he might break it.

“What are you so worked up about?” You asked. “If you hated him so much, shouldn't you be glad that we broke up?”

“I'm worked up because I'll never understand what you could have possibly seen in him,” he seethed, his eyes boring into yours. “Explain it to me. Please.”

You looked at him incredulously. “Explain what?”

“Why you stayed with him! Why you liked him in the first place!”

He was furious and for the life of you, you couldn't understand why. “I don't know,” you said, searching for an answer that would be enough for him. “We hit it off at first, and I guess the problems we had seemed small until they weren't anymore.”

Cassian's eyes narrowed as he looked at you. “That's it? You hit it off, and that's why you stayed with him? Gods, he was never good enough for you,” he said, rising from his chair and looking down at you, his eyes on fire.

You rose too, stepping up to him, still confused by his anger, but it spurred on some of your own. “Who would be then, Cassian? Since you clearly know what's best for me, who would be good enough for me?”

“I would!” He roared.

Your heart stopped. Your face must have shown your shock because his body relaxed, exhausted. He was breathing heavily as he looked back into your eyes and said quietly, “I would be. I would try my hardest to be.”

“Cassian,” you whispered.

“You're my family,” he said gruffly. “You, me, and Asteria. The three of us, we're a family. And… gods, I've loved you for so long,” he said, his eyes swimming with pain, with want. 

“Why didn't you ever say anything?” The words came out like a plea.

He loosed out a breath. “You were always with someone. And then when you finally showed interest in me, Lana showed up… and by the time we had ended it, I had a baby to worry about. I didn't have the energy to think about anything but her. When she was older and I was thinking about that aspect of my life again, you were with Landon! When was I supposed to tell you?”

Your head was spinning. “I -- Cassian,” you choked out.

And then you surged forward, taking his face in your hands and pulling him to you, kissing him the way you had been wanting to for ages.

--- 

Cassian wasn't sure if he was breathing. He didn't mean to lose it with you like that, to lay it all on the line, but picturing you with that jerk who hated him and his daughter made him see red.

The fact that he broke up with you because his daughter loved you so much made him see red.

So, he lost it. And he finally, finally told you the truth.

And now he was holding you in his arms, and your hands were on his face and your lips were on his and he didn't think he was breathing.

He groaned your name, pulling you closer into him, his hands roaming down your sides, wrapping around to grip your ass. 

You jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and he couldn't help but smile into the kiss, carrying you through the hallway into his bedroom.

Slowly, he laid you down onto the bed, leaning over you as you sunk into the mattress, kissing down your throat. You sighed his name and he nuzzled his face into your neck.

Your fingers curled around his bicep, and into his hair. “I love you, Cassian,” you said softly. “I've loved you for a long time.”

He pulled back to look at you, his thumb running across your cheek. “The people you dated?” He asked.

Your eyes softened as you gazed up at him. “I didn't think you were interested. I was trying to… move on.”

Cassian laughed humorlessly, letting his forehead rest against yours. “Guess we kept missing our window, huh?”

“Not anymore,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into another kiss.

“Let's not waste anymore time,” he said against your mouth.

You immediately clawed at his chest, working his shirt off. He laughed, helping you pull it over his head. 

Heat ran through his entire body at the look in your eyes as you stared at the exposed skin of his chest, his arms.

He reached for you, but you sat up and caught his wrists, forcing his arms to his sides. You looked mesmerized as you traced a finger along his collarbone, then ran your hand down his chest, across his abs, down to his waistline, stopping at the top of his pants. 

Cassian sucked in a breath as you toyed with his pants, your eyes trained on his body. 

“You're drooling now, just wait til you get my pants off,” he teased.

Your eyes flicked to his, darkened with lust. 

That look set him off. He growled, taking your face in his hands and kissing you hard. You gasped into his mouth, and he took your hand in his, settling it on his bulge.

You gripped him through his pants, stroking up and down lightly. He groaned, bucking his hips.

“Off,” you mumbled against his lips, tugging at his pants.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” he said, and rose from the bed before letting his pants drop to the floor, kicking them behind him.

Your eyes were wide as he stood bare before you.

He laughed lightly, then sauntered over to you, tugging on your hand to stand you up next to him. “I think you need to catch up to me,” he murmured, reaching to pull your shirt over your head.

His breath caught as his eyes raked down your body. He pulled you against him, kissing down your neck, down your chest, running his hands down your sides, pulling your pants off slowly. 

You gasped quietly as he wrapped his hands around the backs of your thighs, picking you up and laying you down on the bed, hovering over you, kissing you deeply as his hands roamed your body. 

“You have no idea how many times I’ve dreamed about this,” he groaned against your skin.

“Show me,” you said quietly, your hands scanning down his back. 

Cassian didn’t need to be told twice. He lined himself up at your entrance and slid into you slowly. 

The two of you moaned in tandem as he filled you completely. His eyes were locked on yours as he started moving inside you, slowly at first, but his thrusts became deeper and harder the longer you clung to him, the more gasps and mewls that you made. 

He twined his fingers with yours, holding your hands above your head as he pounded into you, gazing down at you. 

You bit your lip when your legs started shaking and Cassian grinned. “Don’t wake up the kid,” he smirked. 

“Cassian,” you whined. 

You glared at him and he laughed, gently covering your mouth with his hand as you came undone, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him even deeper and he groaned, finishing inside you. 

He collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing heavily. Cassian kissed your forehead before nuzzling his face in your neck. 

“I can’t believe this is real,” he said wistfully as he rolled off of you, brushing the stray hairs off your face, tucking them behind your ear. 

“But it is,” you smiled. 

The look in your eyes, the utter love and affection made his heart race. After all this time, he had you in his arms. And he wouldn’t let anything screw up this chance he’d been given.

---

“Mom,” Asteria whined from outside. “Uncle Rhys isn’t sharing!”

Rhysand gasped dramatically. “You’re tattling on me?”

She giggled, covering her mouth with her hands. 

“What isn’t Uncle Rhys sharing with you?” You asked, waddling out to the doorway, your hand resting on your swollen belly. 

“It’s my turn!” Rhysand claimed, holding Asteria’s new ball above his head. 

You laughed at your ridiculous family. “Asteria, honey, it sounds like you’re the one who’s not sharing.”

Asteria crossed her arms over her chest, frowning. “Fine. Uncle Rhys can play with my new toy.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Cassian called to her, wrapping his arms around you from behind, lovingly placing a hand over yours on your stomach. “How’re you two doing?” He murmured in your ear. 

You couldn’t help but smile, leaning into his touch. Cassian had always been protective of you, but since you had gotten pregnant, he had barely left your side. “The same as the last time you asked two minutes ago,” you teased.

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Glad to hear it.”

You turned in his arms, holding his face in your hands and kissing him sweetly. “I love you,” you smiled. 

“I love you,” he grinned, leaning in to kiss you again. 

“And I love you!” Asteria beamed, bounding up to the two of you. 

Cassian grinned, scooping her up into his arms, bringing her into a group hug. “And my baby brother,” she added, patting your belly gently. 

“One big happy family,” Cassian murmured, gazing at the two of you, his eyes twinkling with all the love in the world. 

@loving-and-dreaming @birdsflyhome @hanuh @sheblogs @iambored24601 @thalia-as-blog @ecliphttlunar @melmo567 @headacheseason @yourqueenlilith @halibshepherd @azrielshadows1nger @cigvrette-dvydrevms @evergreenlark @bookloverandalsocats @sillysillygoose444 @mariamay02 @andreperez11 @lilah-asteria @marina468

[illyrianbitch]

What Lies Between Us

Pairing: Reader x Modern Detective! Azriel

Summary: Azriel has spent years trying to escape the ghosts of his past, retiring into a self-imposed exile despite a promising career as a talented detective. When you turn up at his door asking for help on a recent case, his world is disrupted.

Warnings: angst, outrunning memories, brief allusions to crime, details of injury, horrible yearning and longing tbh

Word Count: 3.4k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel let out a sigh as he fumbled for his keys, juggling a bag of groceries in one hand. The weight of it grew heavy, and he clenched his jaw in focus as he finally pushed his door open, blindly reaching for the lightswitch on his wall. 

A soft meow greeted him at his feet. Azriel glanced down to see Shadow, his black sleek fur gleaming under the light, weaving affectionately between his legs. Shadow's green eyes flicked up briefly before he leapt gracefully onto a bar stool and then the counter, nose twitching as he inspected the grocery bags Azriel placed down. He pulled back, seemingly unimpressed.

Azriel’s therapist was insistent that more greens would be beneficial in easing his anxiety. He said nothing about its relation to his nightmares, but Azriel didn’t have high hopes regarding whether broccoli could treat years of insomnia. Slowly, he pulled groceries from the bags, one by one. He almost snickered at the contents of his fridge— a few shelves now stocked with freshly bought produce, a carton of eggs, orange juice, butter, and a pack of beer. He shut the door. 

There were a few birthday cards on his fridge, held on by various traveling magnets he’d collected over the years. One card was from his mother, the words “sweet boy” staring back at him, written with a heavy hand and adorned with hearts she delicately drew. The others were from his friends, a stupid one from Cassian, a sweet one from Mor, even Elain had gifted him one— and an invitation to her wedding. 

He hadn’t gone. 

But you had. He knew this from the pictures Feyre had posted on Instagram.

Not that he was checking. He deleted Instagram soon after.

Azriel's gaze lingered on the cards. There was one missing, and his fingers traced the place it used to be, where he had stuck it for a week before he realized he couldn’t handle looking at it every morning as he made breakfast. That card was tucked away in his bedside drawer now. He saw it every night, instead. 

He let out a deep sigh, running his hands along his face, fingers brushing against the stubble that had begun to grow already. 

He had planned to cook a healthy meal tonight, to take his new prescription and finally attempt to get a good night's sleep. But the thought of chopping vegetables and cooking felt exhausting. He pulled out a beer.

The cap nicked his thumb as he twisted it off, but he barely registered the sensation, quickly drawing the neck of the bottle to his mouth. He greedily swallowed down the cheap contents and moved towards the living room. Shadow padded after him, tail flicking in curiosity, a step behind every move Azriel made.

His apartment was empty, save for a few decorations and his heavily decorated bookshelves. Two of the chairs in his living room were still new, and the smell of brand new leather clung to them heavily, making the entire room reek of a department store. Azriel’s apartment wasn’t a home. It was a place filled with furniture. Besides those cards on his fridge, not much hinted at any sign of a life well lived. 

Except the vinyl collection he now stood before. 

His collection was meticulously organized, spanning decades of music. Some were torn, tattered at the edges where he’d picked them up at vintage shops, others brand new from gifts he’d been given. 

Azriel selected a record. Its cover was worn and bent at the edges from drunken nights trying to carefully shove it back into its place. A classic rock album, the kind that filled the silence with powerful guitar riffs and soulful vocals— one of his favorites.He slid it from its sleeve, handling it with the care it properly deserved, and placed it on the turntable

Azriel wasn’t a flashy man, never one for fancy possessions, but this collection was his pride. The turntable itself was one of the nicest things he owned, if not the nicest. He cherished it, admired it every time he came into the living room. As the needle found its place, the familiar crackle precluded the strong, evocative notes of the electric guitar, filling the room with a warmth and soul that pulled a deep,weary sigh from his gut. 

Shadow brushed against Azriel’s legs again, and his eyes fell at the touch, gaze falling on his guitar propped against the wall.  A wave of sadness ran through him. Azriel approached it, running his fingers along its neck, along the dust that had gathered on top of it. The strings resisted against the scars on his fingertips.

He took a step back, grabbed his beer, and made his way towards the balcony. 

The rush of cold night air offered a welcoming reprieve from the stifling stillness of his apartment. The chill bit at his skin, but he didn’t mind. It reminded him that he was still alive, still capable of feeling something other than biting numbness, suffocating guilt.

The city buzzed below. Azriel was never a fan of New York. The city was loud, crowded, and full of distractions that made it hard for him to find the quiet he craved. He felt disconnected from it all, from the hums of life and sounds of cars. He’d never felt as lonely as he did recently, surrounded by hundreds of people. Taking another sip of his beer, he let the music wash over him, the rich melody pouring out into the open air. 

Azriel was only two songs in before there was a sudden knock on his door. 

He frowned and waited a minute for them to go away. Another knock followed, more insistent this time. Grumbling, he turned around and headed to the door, placing his beer on the counter.

"Damnit, Rhys,” Azriel called out, hand reaching out to pull his apartment door open, “I told you I didn't want to—" 

Azriel’s words died in his mouth as he opened the door, feeling a rush of emotions flood him all at once—relief, shock, and a hint of something else he couldn't quite name.

You were as beautiful as the last time he’d seen you, at that family dinner where he’d done his best to avoid you. Your skin was tan now, a sun-kissed glow that Azriel quickly deduced was from the recent trip you’d taken with Mor and Feyre. You’d gone to Belize, and while Feyre was gone, he and Rhysand had taken a trip upstate, stayed at a small place Rhys owned. Rhys was smart enough to not bring you up throughout the week, but Az still saw all the pictures Feyre had sent him— pictures that included you beaming at the camera, drink in hand and those pink vintage sunglasses you’d bought at a flea market three years ago.

"Y/N," he breathed out, voice barely above a whisper.

“Hi, Azriel,” you said, voice steady and soft, sweet like honey. It dripped down his skin and made him melt. His hand fell lax against the door handle. You gave him a small, almost unsure, smile. “I need your help.” 

Azriel’s brows furrowed, gaze scanning your features for a moment. There were dark circles under your eyes— and your eyes, your eyes themselves seemed sad. Troubled. His stomach twisted into itself. You held his gaze for a moment before you were clearing your throat, shaking your head as if breaking the connection. 

“Can I come in?”

Azriel blinked. “Of course,” he finally replied, pulling the words from deep out of his chest. He gave a smile as he stepped aside and gestured for you to come in. “Please.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

It was strange to be so close to you, to watch as you gingerly took off your coat and draped it over one of his barstools. Azriel’s eyes traced your form before him— the bend of your spine as you leaned over, the jewelry on your wrist, the boots that you wore.Even with your back turned to him, Azriel knew you. Something was deeply troubling you. There was an evident tension in your body, in the way your shoulders moved, in your shallow breaths. 

His gaze lingered on your waist for a moment, on the way your body curved below your hips. He shook himself out of the daze, suddenly embarrassed and shameful. 

His eyes fell to the ground, where Shadow now mewed and rubbed against your legs. You looked down at the contact, letting out a small laugh. Shadow wasted no time before jumping onto the kitchen island, nudging against your arms affectionately.

Azriel moved quickly, scooping Shadow up and setting him back on the ground. “Sorry about that,” he murmured.

“It’s okay,” you replied, a soft smile still playing on your lips. It was unsure— wary, even. The realization made Azriel’s stomach sink. He looked down at where Shadow was pressed against you once more.

Azriel’s eyes met yours, a flicker of something tender passing between you as he quietly said, “He missed you.”

Your gaze softened. A silence followed. It was heavy, but no longer uncomfortable. “I did too.”

The words hung in the air, filling the space between you with a warmth that neither of you dared to acknowledge fully. Azriel pushed away the thoughts in his mind that began to wonder if your words were meant for him, if you had missed him. He cleared his throat.

“What brings you by?”

You blinked, breaking the stare you were holding. “Right,” you said. You quickly turned back to your bag, fumbling slightly as you pulled out some papers and folders, gently placing them on the counter. 

You flipped one of the folders open, saying nothing as you glanced at Azriel before casting your eyes down at the papers before you. You took a deep breath.  “I need your help with a case.”

Azriel took a step forward, eyes glossing over the papers before him. He tightened his jaw. “You’re not supposed to be showing me these.”

He could get in trouble for being exposed to such sensitive information— and you, you were risking your career being here. 

“I know,” you replied. 

Azriel leaned forward, setting into a stance next to you. He ignored the way his skin prickled at the close proximity, instead placing a finger on the papers, pulling them closer to him. He frowned, brows furrowing as he took in the details. He casted a side glance at you.

You were already looking at him, a crease between your brows as you pressed your lips into a thin line.  

“Y/n,” Azriel murmured, “I’m not sure how I can be of any use.”

“Just hear me out,” you pleaded, moving closer to tap a finger on the papers. “They’re following a pattern. I need to get ahead of it. I’m stumped and you used to be great at these cases.”

Azriel’s frown deepened. “Is it a copycat?”

You paused. Azriel missed the flicker of hesitation in your eyes before you nodded. “Yeah, a copycat.”

He let out a contemplative hum. “Who?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, taking a step back as you remained quiet. Your silence was pronounced enough for Azriel to stiffen. He turned around slowly. His eyes gave away the question that was seated on the tip of his tongue. You nodded. 

Azriel stood still, his face hardening, but there was something in his eyes that looked awfully like fear, something in his gut that felt awfully like shame— like regret. He took a deep breath.

“I can't help you.”

Your shoulders slumped. “Azriel-”

“Y/n, I can’t help you,” He repeated, the words falling from his mouth like a practiced mantra of self-denial. “Request the files you need, talk to Cassian. He knows it just as well as I do.”

Azriel curled his hands into fists. He attempted to ignore the stone that sank in his stomach at the name of his friend, of his brother. Cassian. As if sensing his distress, Shadow mewed softly, weaving between Azriel’s legs.

“That is not true and you know it,” you retorted. There was a heavy sense of frustration that seeped into your voice, one that dripped from every word you said. You could feel the tension thickening the air, suffocating the space between you and Azriel. 

He remained silent, his gaze fixed on a point somewhere beyond your shoulder. The stubborn set of his jaw made you falter further. You took a deep breath, lowering your voice to one much softer, much smoother. Azriel nearly melted at it, nearly found himself apologizing for everything he had done.

“I’ve requested access, I can talk to Cassian. But we both know you know things even I don’t. You kept meticulous records.”

“I-”

"Please," you interrupted, your voice pleading. "Az.”

Azriel’s expression softened, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of sorrow and resolve. He let out a small sigh and then he offered you a nod. His steps were measured, deliberate, as he turned and made his way down the small hallway, the echoes of his footfalls filling the quiet space. 

His bedroom was just as empty as the rest of the apartment, and his gaze flickered to the bedside table as he passed. He stilled for a moment, feeling another heavy wave of sadness wash through him. Another second passed before he pulled his mind away, forcing himself to walk into his closet. 

It took a few moments of pushing aside boxes and clothing before he found it, running his hands along the small safe tucked away in the back wall. With a practiced hand, he dialed the combination, the soft click of the lock releasing echoing in the room. The door opened gently, revealing its contents—a sleek handgun nestled among a jumble of items, including a worn leather journal and a stack of notes. Brushing his hand over the cold metal of the gun, Azriel reached for the journal, its worn cover familiar beneath his touch. Tucking it under his arm, he closed the safe with a sense of finality.

Returning to where you stood, Azriel found it difficult to meet your gaze again, opting to keep his eyes trained on the journal in his hand and Shadow at his feet. He wasn’t sure if it was just him that suddenly felt so smothering, or if there was something in the air that made it hard for him to breathe. 

He offered you the journal with an extended hand. For a brief moment, your fingers brushed against each other. A familiar warmth ran through Azriel’s body and he resisted the urge to recoil from the intensity of it alone. 

His hand stayed in the air for a moment, suspended in the moment of your touch. You glanced down at his palm, eyes drifting to his bare ring finger. Your eyes softened and Azriel followed your gaze, immediately pulling his hand back and shoving it into his pocket.

“Thanks,” you murmured, turning around to place it on top of your bag. You kept your back to him for a moment, and Azriel traced the curve of your spine with his eyes, watched how you placed two hands to brace yourself on the counter as you sighed. You slowly turned around.

“Azriel-”

The glint in your eyes told him where the conversation was bound to lead. He cut you off as fast as he noticed. “I can’t.”

You deflated, shoulders falling slightly as your gaze danced across his face. “You didn’t even let me speak.”

“I know what you’re going to say,” he said softly. He shifted on his heels, shoving his hands further into his pockets. “I can’t get involved. This is all I can do.”

“Alright,” you finally replied, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth as you absentmindedly nodded your head. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no.” He took an instant step forward, hand naturally flying out to touch your arm. He realized his movement before he made contact, letting his hand fall awkwardly at his side. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I better get going.”

Please don’t.

“Yeah.”

Please stay. 

As you started to gather your belongings, slipping the journal into your bag and pulling your jacket on, Azriel's gaze remained fixed on you. His heart lurched painfully in his chest as you reached for your jacket and pulled it on, your shirt hiking up to reveal the beginning of a jagged scar along your abdomen. He deflated, casting his eyes to the ground. A wave of self-loathing washed over him and he clenched his hands at his sides, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip.

It wasn’t until you were opening his front door that Azriel found the courage to look up, mustered the strength to meet your eyes.

“Y/n-” Azriel paused. His heart thudded loudly in his eardrums. He felt a faint tugging sensation in his chest, as if his body itself was screaming at him to get closer to you, to not let you leave. He swallowed down the selfish words he wanted to say, and instead offered you a wary, but warm, smile. “Be careful. This might just be a copycat, but they’re still as dangerous. I want you to be safe.”

“I know.” Something in your face softened, and you offered him a half smile. His eyes darted to the small dimple on your cheek. “I will be.”

You turned to leave, but no movement followed. Instead, you stilled, hand tapping on the handle before you turned around again. “It was nice to see you, Az.” 

He gave you a small, curt nod. His chest tightened. “You too, Y/n.”

“Take care of yourself.”

And then you were gone. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel sat on the couch, the soft hum of his chosen record filling the otherwise quiet apartment. His hand absentmindedly rubbed Shadow's head as he closed his eyes, allowing his thoughts to drift.

Weeks had passed since he last saw you, but you were never far from his mind. He had toyed with the idea of reaching out to you, of asking how things were going, but the thought was quickly dismissed. It was inappropriate on multiple levels. You weren't in each other's lives anymore, and he shouldn't have known about the case in the first place. So he resigned himself to living in his mind, replaying that night over and over, wondering if he should have asked you to stay, if he should have offered more help.

There was a knock at the door. 

Azriel jumped at it, head twisting over his couch to look at his entrance. He pushed himself up, lifting Shadow from his lap as he made his way to the door. The cat emitted a discontented sound as he settled back into a lying position.

His heart fluttered with anticipation as he made his way to the door, a small glimmer of hope now flickering in his chest. Could it be that his prayers had been answered? That you were here again, unable to stop thinking about him just like he couldn't stop thinking about you?

Azriel took a deep breath as he reached for the doorknob.

He prepared to muster up a smile, running greetings through his mind, knowing himself well enough that he’d stumble at seeing your face once more. But as he swung the door open, his face fell flat.

"Rhys.”

Rhysand offered him a smile, but it lacked its usual warmth, troubled lines etched into his features. His posture was tense, his shoulders squared. There was a stiffness to his stance, a subtle rigidity that made Azriel’s stomach drop. 

"What is it?" Azriel asked.

Rhys met his gaze, eyes filled with a darkened sense of worry. There was a glint of apprehension in his eyes, as if he were hesitant to speak. He swallowed.

"It's Y/n," Rhys finally said, "She's missing."

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

this idea appeared to me in a dream and i had to write it... will it ever come to fruition? who knows??? but i do love a good haunting of the narrative.... az finding us....az being thrown back into a world he thought he left behind...... lord its such yummy angst

so lmk if you’re interested in being tagged in a part 2 :)

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen

azriel tag list: @thisiskaylin @serrendiipty

[24galaxies]

My Home

Story line:- Azriel is sitting next to Elain as you sit by the fireplace reading. You’ve been staying with Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand for the past two months in Velaris. You’re a mortal but Rhysand says you have different abilities that no mortal should be able to have. For example, winnowing or teleporting. Azriel is in love with Elain Archeron even though Elain already has a mate.

Azriel x Reader

The crackling of the fireplace was the only sound that filled the sitting room. It should’ve been comforting—warmth wrapping around me like a favorite blanket—but tonight, it felt oppressive. Maybe it was because of him.

Azriel sat across from me, his form sharp and precise in the soft firelight, every inch of him exuding the kind of quiet power that left me breathless. As usual, his focus wasn’t on me. He was next to her—Elain Archeron. The golden one. The one with a mate.

I closed my book for the third time in as many minutes, unable to focus with the two of them so close. It wasn’t that they were doing anything inappropriate—Azriel wouldn’t, and Elain…well, she didn’t seem to notice his lingering looks. But I noticed. I always noticed.

I hated how it made me feel. A bitterness that lodged itself in my chest, turning my heart into something small and sharp. I wanted to tell myself it didn’t matter, that Azriel could love Elain if he wanted. But it wasn’t just love. It was something deeper. Something quieter.

And that made it worse.

I stole another glance, careful to keep my movements subtle. Elain was speaking to him, her voice soft and melodic. Whatever she said made Azriel smile—not a big, broad grin like Cassian’s, but a small, fleeting thing. I hated that I wanted to be the one to pull that smile from him.

“Y/N.”

The sound of my name snapped me out of my thoughts, and I looked up to find Azriel’s hazel eyes locked onto mine. My heart skipped, the intensity of his gaze startling me.

“You’re frowning,” he said, his voice low.

I blinked, scrambling to compose myself. “I’m not.”

“You are,” he insisted, tilting his head slightly. “Something wrong?”

It wasn’t fair. That look, that tone—like he cared. Like I was more than just a mortal girl who happened to land in their world.

“No,” I lied, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”

His gaze lingered, like he didn’t quite believe me, but then Elain spoke again, drawing his attention back to her.

And just like that, I was invisible again.

I didn’t stay in the room much longer. The fire was too warm, the tension too thick, and I needed air. Slipping outside, I welcomed the crisp night breeze that kissed my skin. Velaris was beautiful at night, the stars scattered across the sky like shards of silver.

It had been two months since I arrived here, and I still wasn’t sure if I belonged. Rhysand had insisted I was special, though I wasn’t sure what that meant. Mortals didn’t winnow, didn’t teleport from one place to another in the blink of an eye, but somehow I could. And no one—not even the High Lord himself—could explain why.

I let out a sigh, rubbing my arms as I wandered the gardens. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here. Maybe I should’ve stayed in my world, where things were simple and I wasn’t caught up in…this.

The sound of footsteps startled me, and I turned to see Azriel standing a few feet away.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice quiet but steady.

I shook my head, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickened at the sight of him. “Just needed some air.”

He didn’t move closer, but his presence alone was enough to fill the space between us. “You left in a hurry earlier.”

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Interrupt what?”

I glanced at him, biting my lip. “You and Elain.”

Something shifted in his expression—subtle but there. His shadows swirled around him, their movements restless.

“Elain and I…” He trailed off, as if searching for the right words. “It’s not what you think.”

“Really?” I challenged, folding my arms. “Because it looks pretty clear to me.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I thought I cared for her. That she could be—” He stopped himself, his jaw tightening. “It doesn’t matter.”

I stepped closer, my chest tightening. “It does matter. You can’t just…pretend it doesn’t.”

Azriel’s gaze snapped to mine, sharp and intense. “Why do you care?”

The question caught me off guard, and I opened my mouth to respond, only to realize I didn’t have an answer I was ready to give.

“Forget it,” I muttered, turning away. “Goodnight, Azriel.”

I didn’t look back as I walked away, but I could feel his gaze burning into my back.

The tension between us only grew after that night. Azriel kept his distance, but there were moments—fleeting glances, accidental touches—that left my heart racing. It was maddening, this dance we were trapped in.

It wasn’t until Cassian suggested sparring that I found an outlet for my frustration. The training yard became my escape, a place where I could channel all the emotions swirling inside me.

“You’re getting better,” Cassian said, blocking my latest strike with a grin. “But you still telegraph your moves.”

I rolled my eyes, adjusting my stance. “Maybe you’re just predictable.”

Cassian laughed, lunging at me with renewed vigor. I barely managed to dodge his attack, stumbling as I tried to regain my footing.

“Careful,” he teased, winking. “Wouldn’t want Azriel to think I broke you.”

My cheeks flushed, and I glared at him. “Shut up, Cassian.”

“Make me,” he challenged, his grin widening.

Before I could respond, a voice cut through the air like a blade.

“Enough.”

Cassian and I both turned to see Azriel standing at the edge of the yard, his expression unreadable but his tone leaving no room for argument.

Cassian raised his hands in mock surrender. “All right, all right. I’ll leave you two alone.” He shot me a knowing look before sauntering off, and I resisted the urge to throw my sword at him.

Azriel approached slowly, his wings tucked tightly against his back. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I said, brushing the dirt off my clothes.

He didn’t look convinced. “You shouldn’t push yourself so hard.”

“I can handle it,” I snapped, more sharply than I intended.

Azriel’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might argue. But then he took a step closer, his voice softening. “I know you can. But you don’t have to prove anything to me.”

My breath caught, his words hitting me harder than they should’ve.

“Why do you care?” I asked, echoing his question from that night in the garden.

Azriel didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped even closer, his hazel eyes locking onto mine.

“Because I see you,” he said quietly. “Even when you think no one else does.”

My chest tightened, and I opened my mouth to respond, but he closed the distance between us before I could say anything. His hand cupped my cheek, his touch warm and grounding, and then his lips were on mine.

The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant, but it quickly deepened, years of longing and restraint breaking like a dam. His shadows swirled around us, cocooning us in a world that was just ours.

When we finally pulled apart, Azriel rested his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” he whispered. “I was afraid.”

I smiled, my hands tangling in the fabric of his shirt. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”

For the first time since arriving in Velaris, I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be.

Over the next few weeks, everything shifted. Azriel and I found a rhythm, a quiet understanding that didn’t need words. He still had his shadows, his secrets, but he let me in, piece by piece.

Elain…she seemed to understand, too. There was no bitterness, no resentment—only a quiet acceptance that made me respect her even more.

As for me, I finally started to feel like I belonged. Rhysand’s court wasn’t just a place; it was a family, one I was proud to be part of.

And Azriel?

He was My Home.

[yourfavoritebookclub]

WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction

CHAPTER 3

I'm alone at the bottom of the turret now, all the candidates having made their way up the stairs in the last few hours. I’m walking so fast I might as well be running, but I have to find somewhere to piece myself back together.

There’s a small alcove at the back of the Healers Quadrant, and I throw myself into it before anyone else can witness the panic that’s radiating off of my body. I throw up a wall of shadows and shrug out of my jacket, letting it drop to the stone floor.

My whole body feels tight with adrenaline. 

I don’t do this. I don’t lose control.

I can’t afford to lose control.

I can’t afford to lose 107 lives.

I twine my fingers around the back of my neck, and my thumb brushes over one of the scars on my shoulder.

For them, I’ll keep it together. 

I’m so close to getting back so many things.

I can’t let anything get in the way of that.

I won’t let anything get in the way.

Not even Brennan’s sister.

I care for Brennan, and the sacrifices he’s made, but that does not mean Violet is worthy of my care. 

I press the pads of my fingers into my eyelids until I’m seeing spots. 

Two breaths. 

I blow out the last, shaky breath, pick up my rain soaked jacket, and step out of the shadows into a suddenly sunny day.

…

I make it up to the Rider’s Quadrant long before the parapet trial is over.

Leadership is supposed to meet in the courtyard once the last of the candidates' finish, but if I go now Panchek will wonder why I left my post early.

Instead I wind my way up the spiral staircase to the third-year dorms, letting my shadows unravel behind me. 

My signet doesn’t actually create shadows. It pulls from the shadows that exist in the world around me, anchoring them to me so that I have control over them. Keeping them contained is often more exhausting than allowing them to roam. 

I open the door to my room. 

I’ve tried to make it mine. I was taught meticulously to respect the space I occupy my entire life.

My father reminded me often,

“Xaden, your room is yours, and yours alone. Treat it with care, keep it safe, sanctimonious. Your mind is the same.” He taps his temple with his pointer finger, “You will need it when you become a rider. Practice now and you will find your feet firmly planted when you’re ready.”

I hear his voice so often when my control begins to slip. 

A reminder of what I lost, of what I have to do to regain the scraps that are left. Of why I read in the wide seated armchair by the bed the way my mother used to.

Three deep breaths. 

I smooth out my hair and straighten my flight leathers before walking to the door and twisting the knob. 

Sgaeyl, always passively present, says quietly, “Remember who you are now. Let go of the girl, of Brennan. It is done. And it is not important.”

I swallow the lump in my throat.

For all of her ferocity, and endless desire for perfection in battle, she knows when to use a gentle hand.

And I appreciate her even more when she doesn’t wait for me to respond.

•••

The day has warmed considerably since I made my way to the quadrant an hour ago. I find Bodhi leaning against one of the stone archways at the edge of the courtyard.

“Garrick still at the parapet?”

He nods, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, “I just got here, he got stuck ushering the first-years.”

I manage a small smile, and I mean it as I picture the tall, imposing rider stuck with all the babies.

Bodhi softly clears his throat before shifting his body to the right and staring at something over to the side.

Rather, someone.

Fucking Bodhi. 

At the front of the Healers Tents is Violet, standing next to Dain Aetos. 

Her skin is concerningly pale, and she looks weary as hell on her feet, but she’s still standing.

It’s not a secret that Aetos’ father and General Sorrengail have been close friends for almost two decades now. 

Aetos is a good Squad leader. An absolute shit, with no nuance when it comes to the rules, but I respect his drive. Though his conviction would be more respectable if it was channeled to the right side of the rebellion.

Bodhi clears his throat again and I cut a sideways look at him. 

“I heard your new friend made quite the display after she crossed the parapet.”

“I’m sure you’ll continue to tell me about it.” I scowl.

“She stuck a knife in between Jack Barlowe’s balls and essentially told the little shit to fuck off.”

I feel the corner of my mouth tip up, “That spells a bit of trouble, doesn’t it.”

I do a quick scan of the crowd of new first years and then glance down at the floor, toeing the stone beneath my feet. The only indication of the anxiety that’s coursing through my body.  

“Is Liam…?” I trail off.

“Yes,” his breath snags and I know he’s as relieved as I am,“ Yea, he’s here. It’s part of the reason I left early. I didn’t want you to have to wait to find out.”

I smile at him.

Fucking Bodhi. 

Before relief can set in, the clock tower bell rings a clear, echoing note, and Bodhi and I begin moving.

We stick to the shadows, and I pull just a touch of them around our bodies to go unnoticed as we make our way to the back of the group. 

Garrick is standing behind the line of cadets. 

He hits us both with an annoyed look. “Aren’t you two a sight for sore eyes.” He mutters. 

Bodhi breaks off to join the other second-years throwing a cocky grin over his shoulder.

Garrick narrows his eyes at Bodhi's retreating form, "You let him get away with too much Xaden. Someone might think you're being nepotistic."

"Oh, I absolutely am." I say with a grin.

Garrick and I continue walking over to the side of the dais. We sidle up to the rest of the wingleaders and stand in formation. Chin up, spine straight, and hands behind our backs. We symbolize a "unified front" according to Panchek.

These are the moments where I sink into myself. I stand firmly in who I am, and who I aim to be.

I am a leader. And I am good at what I do.

Panchek begins speaking, a near identical speech to the one he gave our first year, “Three hundred and one of you have survived the parapet to become cadets today.” He pauses, scanning the crowd, “Good job. Sixty-seven did not.” 

Pancheck raises both hands towards the crowd in a dramatic gesture and says, his voice booming, “As the Codex says, now you begin the true crucible! You will be tested by your superiors, hunted by your peers, and guided by your instincts. If you survive to Threshing, and if you are chosen, you will be riders. Then we’ll see how many of you make it to graduation.”

Three hundred and sixty-eight people attempted to make it to the Rider’s Quadrant this morning. Almost twenty percent more than my first year. 

“Your instructors will teach you. It’s up to you how well you learn. Discipline falls to your units, and your wingleader is the last word.” I smile, just a bit. 

It’s not that I desire power, but I know how to harness it. How to use it effectively. 

Power is a weapon just like anything else.

“If I get involved…You don’t want me involved.” He threatens with a smile. “With that said, I’ll leave you to your wingleaders. My best advice? Don't die.” Then it’s just us on the stage and we’re all sizing up the newest cadets. 

Nyra, our senior wingleader introduces herself, “I’m Nyra, the senior wingleader of the quadrant and the head of the First Wing. Section leaders and squad leaders, take your positions now.” 

The Wingleaders divvy up the cadets until everyone is in their proper squads. 

I’m not paying attention to the squads though.

I find myself watching Violet again.

Her gaze drifts up to mine like she can feel my stare. She lifts her chin, just the smallest display of defiance.

I just want to see what might happen. What she could make happen, if she harnesses all of that potential.

If she has enough of Brennan in her.

It’s a dangerous gamble. I can’t shake the hate that roiled between us earlier. But Brennan’s description of his youngest sister painted her as empathetic, someone who seems morally aligned with us. “She’s a skeptic as any scribe should be.” he said during one of the late nights we spent on the hills of Aretia, trying to reconcile the lives we left behind.

I can work with that.

But first I need her in my quadrant. 

I want it bad enough that I’ll put up with Dain.

It’s a simple ask, and I have enough pull among the Wingleaders that there’s only the briefest of objections before everyone agrees that there’s no point in arguing with me.

We all turn and I can’t help the small, triumphant smile that’s now on my face.

Nyra inclines her head towards Flame Sections Second Squad, “Dain Aetos, you and your squad will switch with Aura Beinhaven’s.”

A minute later, Violet Sorrengail is standing in the Fourth Wing.

My wing.

Nyra’s done giving orders and I step forward to the front of the stage.

“Take a look at your squad.” I don’t have to try to keep my voice clear and steady anymore. I know every syllable needs to portray my authority to each one of these cadets. 

“These are the only people guaranteed by the Codex not to kill you. But just because they can’t end your life doesn’t mean others won’t. You want a dragon?” A few of them nod.

“Earn one.”

There’s a smattering of cheers that grow louder as I say, “And I bet you feel pretty badass right now, don’t you first-years? You feel invincible after the parapet, don’t you?” I’m shouting now, drowning out every arrogant cheer. 

“You think you’re untouchable! You’re on the way to become the elite! The few! The chosen!” They cheer like they’ve won something. I can’t help but feel a little smug at their naivety as the thunder of wings grows louder. 

The dragons fly overhead and bank, a great gust of wind pushing through the crowd. 

A few screams pierce the air and I feel just a little pity at those who will die in the coming minutes. There’s always a few.

Saegyl is easy to pick out as she lands in front of Violet and the rest of the Fourth wing.

The dragons all sit atop the walls.

I know the names of each one, have seen them everyday for almost 3 years, and it still never fails to steal the breath from me.

My eyes snap forward as a cadet breaks formation and races toward the keep. 

And I can’t help but sigh inwardly as one of the dragons opens its mouth and reduces the recently awarded cadet into barely there ash.

“It’s better he goes now rather than later,” Sgaeyl exhales with the same sigh. 

There are more deserters, and a few more piles of ash before everyone has learned their lesson. 

“She is hurt all over.” Sgaeyl huffs. 

I sneak a small glance to where Sgaeyl is perched, assessing Violet.

“Wh- where?” There’s an involuntary edge to my voice, making my thoughts stutter.

“Her stance would suggest everywhere.”

“Do you wish to be her healer, wingleader?” Tairn chortles. 

I close my eyes, biting down on an exasperated groan. I direct my thoughts toward Tairn, “Are you contented to mock me today?”

“Yes.” 

I sense surprise, and…delight? From Sgaeyl.

My dragon is playing with Violet. Or trying to scare her. Whatever Sgaeyl has seen on Violet’s face has impressed her.

A rare occurrence.

“She will be interesting indeed.” And I have to stifle another groan at my meddling dragon. 

I block out both of them before addressing the crowd again, “Anyone else feeling like changing their mind? No? Excellent. Roughly half of you will be dead by this time next summer.” The formation grows quiet. “A third of you again the year after that, and the same your last year. No one cares who your mommy or daddy is here. Even King Tauri’s second son died during his Threshing.”

A few have started outright crying.

“So tell me again: Do you feel invincible now that you’ve made it into the Riders Quadrant? Untouchable? Elite? Because you’re not untouchable or special to them.” I lean forward and point at Sgaeyl for emphasis, “To them, you’re just the prey.”

•••

I’m getting antsy. 

I managed to catch Imogen in time to have her give Liam my room number, but it always takes a while to get the first-years settled. 

I haven’t stopped pacing, and I’m starting to get light headed as my breaths become shallower and shallower.

I need to breathe. I clench and unclench my fists, letting small tendrils of shadow pull away from me before walking over to the armchair by the bed.

I force myself to sit down. Counting my breaths in an effort to regain a scrap of control after the events of today.

My shadows have started edging their way down the hall when there’s a single rap on the wood. I’m practically sprinting toward the door.

I snatch at the handle and open it a fraction.

All I can see is blonde hair and bright blue eyes as Liam Mairi slips through the door, closing it softly behind him.

He turns towards me and I stand rooted to the spot, taking him in.

He’s gained muscle.

He took my advice and kept training, and while he looks exhausted, and a little older, he looks strong and healthy.

His presence still feels the way it did when I left.

We both stand frozen for another heartbeat, taking in the changes.

Before I get a chance to move, Liam has me in a tight, back breaking hug. I wrap my arms around him, and my eyes start to sting. Only Liam could reduce me to tears like this. 

“I missed you, bud.” I say, ruffling the hair on the back of his head.

“I missed you, too.” He says, before pulling out of my grip.

He’s got a broad smile on his face and it takes me a minute to work past the crushing joy I feel at seeing him in front of me.

“You look like shit brother.” He says it with a smirk, but I can see the worry in the slant of his brow.

Before I can respond he walks over to the armchair by the bed and sits, giving me a few more seconds to be frozen in the moment before he gestures to the foot of the bed, “Tell me everything.”

[cordeliaandnestastan]

Can someone please write a nessian fic that happens after the war and diverges from canon so that once cassian gets better he runs with his comment from when he thoight they were #dying and is a good supportive boyfriend from the start that they dont have to go through the trauma™️ arc and “come back together” cuz they never left. Like give me the cassian that helps nesta cope with her first war / battle and is lovely dovey and that they are actually mf nice to each other. Plz.

[pastelpinkkadan]

Can I say something? Is this a safe space? (It’s not. I know it’s not)

…

SJM focusing on CC when she could have easily continued with ACOTAR was a huge mistake.

Not only is CC not as popular or received as well, but the fact that we now have 3 CC books BEFORE the next ACOTAR book is insane to me.

CC should have been written AFTER the ACOTAR series was done. Yeah yeah yeah crossover blah blah blah. The crossover wasn’t bound to a HUGE timeframe in ACOTAR. She could have found a way to make it work, regardless of where the ACTOAR books were currently in their own timeline.

SJM has a whole ass unfinished series. She had no business starting on a new one. Like an untrustworthy fanfic writer stg. 😂

[fuckyesfeysand]

Creator Highlight #8 - @writtenonreceipts

Welcome back to Feysand Creator Highlights!! We want to take a moment to recognize the amazing individuals in our fandom who kindly use up so much of their freetime and creative energy to share their work with us!

Today we'd like to highlight @writtenonreceipts, who has been blessing this community with her amazing talent since 2021. In that time, Written has uploaded 54 actoar fanfics to AO3, the majority of which center on our favorite High Lord and High Lady 💕

But something that's more difficult to glean from her profile is that in addition to those many wonderful fics over the years, Written has also offered this community so much of her heart. Her kindness and support of others is something that hasn't gone unnoticed, and we are so grateful for all the love she's shared with us.

This is our opportunity to share some of it back! You can find Written's masterlist HERE, or check out some of our favorite fics below:

The Things We Cannot Say

Based on a tumblr prompt: Feyre hasn't been able to speak since her mother's death. It's a fact of her life that she's grown used to. Yet, not everyone is so understanding of what she is going through. When she visits her boyfriend at work, Feyre learns just what she is worth. rated mature to be safe

A Memory Undone

They say accidents happen for a reason. Feyre would like to know what sort of reasoning is behind this one.

After waking up from a coma, Feyre Archeron (Avitas) discovers that not only has she been asleep for nearly two years, but she has also lost three years worth of memories. Memories that include a

husband. Reconciliation with her sisters. A life that by the looks of it was worth living for. And yet her past remains a blank page. As she adjusts to her new life, Feyre begins to come to terms with the fact that some things are meant to change--even her.

eyes like stars, she brings me home

Rhys has spent ten years in love with his best friend. He's done everything he can to forget her, to move on. And then she shows up on his doorstep on New Year's, threatening to change everything they know.

-

Want to nominate someone? Fill out the form HERE

[xxvalkyriesxx]

Answer and then tag three or more creators to keep the game going!

Thank you @popjunkie42 @jsmelodies @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @moodymelanist @witch-and-her-witcher for tagging me <3 <3 Love you all <3

1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024?

81,805 😳😊

2. How many fics did you complete this year?

So far only 6 one-shots! The rest of my multi-chapter fics are still ongoing.

3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year?

This is my first year writing ACOTAR fics so I started 4 ongoing fics!

4. What was your favorite thing you wrote?

This is like picking a favorite kid haha, but Flying Changes has definitely change my life for the better. It just started off from a simple idea I posted and the reaction I got was explosive in the best way possible.

I rode for eight years when I was younger before I had to give it up for a lot of reasons. One day I would love to return to it, but for right now I'm reconnecting to it through my favorite couple <3

5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?

So two pieces I think best fit this question which is The Joker and the Queen and Labyrinth of the Night.

The Joker and the Queen is a fluff rom-com piece for the Acotar Gift Exchange and it's different my usual smut and or angsty fics, but in the best ways! It's such a fun piece to write and make Nessian be idiots in love.

I also chose Labyrinth of the Night as it's my only feysand fic (for now 👀). I'm a Nessian writer so writing outside my main ship is always a bit hard. I haven't always been a fan of feysand but I've read a few feysand fics that I just loved that I wanted to take a swing.

6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception?

Honestly, The Blood on your Hands. I was mad about HOFAS once again, so I wrote a small fic of Cassian beating the brakes off Rhys for his reaction to Nesta (don't worry, Rhys is fine. Maybe I'll write a sequel where Feyre plays doctor xD).

I wrote this fic getting out my feelings and before I knew it the reception was huge. It's my most popular one-shot to date.

7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!)

Probably Keeping the Summer Nights Away. It's a small fluff piece for Nessian week, and it's just very simple, but I honestly just loved writing Nessian doing a self-care night together haha.

8. Who is an artist that inspired you?

Oh jeez so many but to name a few - @dustjacketdraws madschofield (instagram), llibiarts (instagram), @jmoonjones, @janearts, @vivictory-draws.

These artists amazing at what they do and their art always makes my jaw drop!

9. Who is an author that inspired you?

Oh my goodness, again a lot of people but to name the ones who really convinced me (literally just by their writing alone) to jump head first back into writing fanfcition - @c-e-d-dreamer @kale-theteaqueen @separatist-apologist @moodymelanist to name a few.

I read ACOTAR back in 2020 so a little a before it really blew up, and eventually I ended up on Tumblr again seeking actoar content when Twitter got too toxic for me.

I was fanfic reader for the longest time. I did write for other fandoms when I was younger, but I either deleted or orphaned my works as I grew out of said fandoms. So for about four years, I just read fanfiction from the ACOTAR fandom. It was too the point that I tried to read whatever new Nessian fic was uploaded daily haha.

I wanna shout out one of the first Nessian fics I read, A Favor. It was the first fanfic that really spoke to me that I wasn't alone in how I felt about Nesta and her treatment with Cassian/the IC and vise versa. Come to find out years later, it's a classic for a lot of Nessian stans.

10. Who is a new author you discovered?

Ahhh you gotta check them out - @jsmelodies @littedidyouknow @beesays @wishcamper @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @unhealthyfanobsession @foundress0fnothing

11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start?

Not at the moment

12. What accomplishments are you proudest of?

Taking a chance at writing again <3

13. What did you learn about writing or creating this year?

That I should be kinder to myself, and it's probably best to start off small. I started a fic back in March/April of this year with Eris/OC and I think the concept was good, but there was so much thought I was putting into, that I just ended up bored. It was going to be a heavy plot story about Rhysand's daughter that he had with Amarantha that featured dragons and a ton of OCs, but it just honestly back fired lol.

It was way too complicated and I didn't have the spoons for it. And you know, it happens lol. I have since deleted the fic because I don't plan to work on it.

14. What is your advice?

It's the most basic writing advice, but write what you know. If you go too far out of your comfort zone, it may be more damning for you in the long run.

Also if you can, use a text-to-speech service to help hear your story before you post it. I use the immersive reader on Outlook (I don't send my fics anywhere lol, but immersive reader is available for drafts). It's not perfect, but it helps give me a second pair eyes when I'm tired of visually editing.

15. What are your creative goals for 2025?

Finish at least two if not three of my ongoing fics! Participate in more character and ship weeks/weekends. Maybe finally get enough money to get a commission done for one of my fics.

No pressure but @foundress0fnothing @beesays, @velarisdusk. If you've already done this, no worries <3

[mirrorballpages]

And I never saw you coming

The next morning dawned cold and quiet, the remnants of winter frost clinging to the edges of the windows. Azriel had spent most of the night tossing and turning, his thoughts circling endlessly like a predator pacing its cage. The previous evening at the Archeron estate played in his mind in an endless loop—Elain’s soft voice, the look in her eyes when she’d asked about flying, the way it had tugged something loose in him that he hadn’t realized was bound so tightly.

By the time the sun began to rise, he had given up on sleep entirely.

Rhys and Feyre had left early, ostensibly to train, though Azriel didn’t believe it for a second. Rhys had perfected the art of excuses when it came to spending time alone with Feyre, and Azriel didn’t blame him. His High Lord was utterly, irreversibly in love, and though he hadn’t officially declared Feyre his mate, Azriel was certain of it. Even Cassian had begun to piece it together, though it often took his brother longer than most to notice such things.

Azriel descended the stairs, the faint creak of the wooden steps masked by Cassian’s groggy mutterings from the room above. Cassian wasn’t much of a morning person, but neither was Azriel, really. His sleepless nights simply meant he was always the first to rise, whether he wanted to or not.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, a quiet hum drifted toward him, carrying a familiar warmth that sent a shiver down his spine. He froze, shadows spilling out instinctively, curling along the edges of the kitchen doorway.

“Elain,” they whispered, their voices a soft murmur.

Azriel stiffened, his pulse kicking up for reasons he didn’t care to analyze. He hadn’t planned on being alone with either of the Archeron sisters this morning, least of all Elain.

But before he could think better of it, his feet were moving, carrying him silently to the doorway.

She was humming softly, her back to him as she stood at the sink, her hands submerged in soapy water. The morning light spilled through the windows, painting her in shades of gold and blush. Her dress was simple, linen in the softest hue of pink, and her hair was braided loosely down her back. A few stray strands curled against her neck, catching the light like threads of spun gold.

The kitchen smelled of fresh bread and tea, the warmth of it wrapping around him like a quiet embrace. For a moment, Azriel simply stood there, watching her, the sight of her so at odds with the sharp, chaotic thoughts that had plagued him all night. Normally, his presence went unnoticed until he chose otherwise. Yet Elain, somehow, had sensed him.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice bright and light, turning to face him with a smile that caught him completely off guard.

Azriel inclined his head, unsure what to say. “Good morning.”

“Would you like some tea?” she asked, still smiling, her gaze warm and open. He nodded wordlessly, and before he could think to offer help, she was bustling to gather teacups.

Azriel found himself standing awkwardly near the doorway, feeling strangely out of place. Realizing he should contribute, he stepped forward to take the kettle from the stove.

“Oh, no, sit!” Elain exclaimed, waving him toward a small table in the corner of the kitchen. “Let me bring it to you.”

He hesitated. “I can—”

“Please,” she interrupted, her voice soft but insistent. “Sit. Unless you’d rather sit in the dining room—I’ve always found it a bit too formal for my taste. Which is why I bought this table when we moved in.”

“This is fine,” Azriel replied, his tone unintentionally clipped. He inwardly winced at the edge in his voice, but Elain didn’t seem to notice. She simply gestured toward the corner table, and he obliged, easing into one of the chairs, mindful of his wings.

The chair creaked faintly as he shifted, his wings brushing against its back. It wasn’t the most comfortable arrangement, but he didn’t complain. Elain was already placing a delicate teacup in front of him, her movements precise and practiced.

“Oh goodness,” she said suddenly, her tone apologetic. “I’m so sorry! Feyre didn’t mention those with wings would be visiting... truthfully, I thought they were myths.”

Azriel blinked, caught off guard by her candor. Myths? He couldn’t help the faint smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Nesta will be down soon,” Elain continued, her voice tinged with nervous energy. “She’s not a morning person, so I would recommend keeping things light this morning until she wakes up.”

Azriel nodded slightly, suppressing the urge to chuckle. “I’d rather not get on her bad side,” he replied, his voice dry.

Elain laughed—a soft, melodic sound that seemed to brighten the room even further. “She’s kind,” she said, though her words carried a trace of hesitation. “She’s just very protective. Especially after Feyre left. And then, with everything that happened above the wall…” Her voice softened, trailing off as she glanced at her hands.

Azriel studied her quietly, taking a sip of tea. “I can imagine it’s a lot to take in.”

Elain nodded, her expression thoughtful. “It is,” she admitted. Then, with a small, nervous laugh, she added, “Can… can I ask you a question? I hope it’s not too forward. I’m just so new to all of this.”

He tilted his head, intrigued. “Go ahead.”

She hesitated, her gaze flicking toward his feet before lifting to his face. “Are... the shadows yours?”

Azriel straightened slightly, his grip tightening on the delicate teacup. She shouldn’t have noticed them—not like this. He had been careful to keep them at bay, knowing how most reacted to their presence. For a human, especially one like Elain, he had assumed they would be nearly invisible.

“You can see them?” he asked cautiously.

Elain nodded, a faint crease between her brows. “I felt something yesterday but thought it was just a breeze. And before you walked in… I somehow knew it was you. I swear I saw a shadow skitter across my hand.”

Azriel stared at her, searching for any hint of fear in her expression. But there was none. Only quiet curiosity.

“They’re... mine,” he said finally. “It’s hard to explain. Even to other fae. I’m what we call a shadowsinger. I can command them.”

“A shadowsinger,” she repeated, her voice soft with wonder. “Do… do they sing to you?”

He blinked, startled by the question. Of all the reactions he had prepared for, this wasn’t one of them. But her gaze was steady, her sincerity unmistakable.

“In their own way, yes,” he admitted, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.

Her expression softened, her eyes bright with something like awe. “Beautiful,” she murmured. He was used to his shadows being called many things—unnerving, dark, dangerous—but never beautiful. She seemed to use that word a lot around him.

The sharp call of “ELAIN!” cut through the kitchen, slicing through the warmth of their conversation. Elain flushed a deep crimson, hurriedly standing from the table. She moved to the counter, bustling as though activity could shield her from the weight of the interruption. “In the kitchen! Tea is ready!” she called back, her voice steady despite the flush in her cheeks.

Nesta stormed in moments later, her presence a whirlwind of irritation. Her sharp eyes landed on Azriel immediately, narrowing as she stopped just shy of the table. “I told you not to be alone with any of them,” she snapped at Elain, her tone cold and biting.

Read The Rest on AO3

[ladyveravincent]

It's kind of exciting to think about what fanfics will look like once the next ACTOAR book comes out. Will we rewrite ACOTAR 5 like we did ACOSF? Will a certain scene change the way we see a character? What defining moments will soon crown our favorites?

IDK... it makes me SO EXCITED

[wanderlonds]

hi friends! i'm looking for some new friends to follow! 🍄

if you like any of the following, please like/reblog 🫶

books: actoar, fourth wing, romance, fantasy, bookblr

studyblr

marvel

star wars

video games: genshin impact, animal crossing, stardew valley, legend of zelda, palia, and other cozy games

studio ghibli

writing/fanfic

sports

i'll be sure to check out everyone that interacts with this post! 🫶

[secretlynestaarcheron]

Pitch it to Me: Ch 2

Gwynriel

Azriel

To say Azriel was nervous was an understatement. He glanced back at the table where two plates sat between the boxes of pizzas, it looked too prepared, he concluded as he snatches the plates up and sets them on the island in a stack. He shook his head at the stupidity of his situation. 

“What is going on here?” Rhysand questions from the doorway. He raised an eyebrow as he looked from the table to Azriel. “Got a hot date or something?” When Azriel does not say anything Rhysand lets out a bark of laughter. Before Azriel can say anything the doorbell to the townhouse they shared rang out. 

Azriel glares at Rhysand as he follows Azriel down the hall. Azriel swings the door open, hos mouth open in greeting but pauses when he sees more than one person on his doorstep. Elain Archeron smiles brightly at him, “Hey, I hope you don’t mind, I brought some people to help,” she says. 

Rhysand laughter grows louder. “I guess it’s the or something,” he murmurs, munching on a slice of pizza as he begins walking up the stairs. “Don’t have too much fun down here.” 

Elain gives a confused look between them before turning to her group. “Azriel this is Lucien and Nesta’s roommate-,” 

His eyes scan the group until they fall onto the redhead in the back who was looking anywhere but him. “Gwyn,” he supplies, earning a surprised look from Elain. 

Elain walks past him into the foyer. “Lucien and I were chatting after our bio class earlier and since we are both stem majors we wanted to take a twist on the assignment. I went to the professor and she was cool with it as long as our partners-,” she gestures to Gwyn and then to him. “Were okay with it.” 

Azriel stares at her, his eyes knitting in confusion. “So,” Elain says, as she rocks back on her heel leaning into Lucien slightly. Azriel's eyes shifted to where there was no longer a gap between them. He felt like an idiot. Sure they got along at the parties Rhysand dragged him to as he followed Feyre around like a love sick puppy but Elain didn’t seem to feel the connection he felt.  “Are you cool with it? You both are criminology majors, I think you two would work better together anyways.”

He shakes his head looking back up to Elain who was staring at him curiously. “I thought we could all start working tonight, together,” she continues. 

Azriel nods, turning to Gwyn who had been looking at him. “Of course,” he replies with a slight shrug as if it didn’t matter to him. “Let’s head into the kitchen. I grabbed pizza on my way home from practice for us.” 

He moves down the hall and hears them follow him. He casually moves to the cabinet and grabs two more plates setting the pile on the table. Lucien and Elain grab a few slices before sitting on the other end of the table and beginning to chat loudly about their project. 

“I didn’t realize you were her partner,” Gwyn says beside him. He looks over at her and raises an eyebrow. She continues to explain, “When she texted Nesta to ask me to switch. I didn’t realize it was you.” 

He scratches the back of his head, was there something he was missing? Did he do something to her? “It’s just an assignment, I don’t really mind who I am paired up with,” he replies but his stomach sinks when he sees her eyes harden before turning away from him and reaching for a slice. That was obviously not the right thing to say. 

Azriel stares at Gwyn from across their computer screens, her teal eyes and copper hair illuminated from the computer light as she scans the page she was reading. He couldn’t pinpoint where he knew her from but obviously they had met before. The only noise coming from the other side of the table as Lucien and Elain somehow find a way to flirt over how factories are polluting the air and killing us slowly. 

Gwyn eyes flicker up to meet him and a red blush appears on her cheeks. Maybe she had a crush on him and that's why she was being so weird. “Have you found a topic you're interested in yet?” she asks softly, her eyes darting back down to her computer. 

“Oh, uh- yeah a few,” he says looking at the blank document staring back at him. “I am honestly open to anything so if there’s one you are passionate about I am more than happy to accommodate.” 

Her eyes narrow as she blinks at her screen. Azriel reaches forward and shuts his own computer and leans forward. “Okay, come on tell me,” he says. “I know you got an idea you want to do.” 

“I know the class is public health but I was speaking with the TA after class and he said that I could do public safety as long as I brought health into it somehow,” she murmurs, chewing on her bottom lip. “I was thinking about doing public safety on college campuses.” 

Azriel nods in thought but he can tell she has more to say. “That seems broad. I am assuming you have more to say on the matter?” 

Her eyes flicker up to meet him and there's a new determination in them. “The student police department takes fifteen minutes on average to get to a bluelight and even longer when a crime is called in,” she says softly. “This delay has lead to robberies, hazing, student injuries, and sexual harassment.” 

There’s a fire in her eyes as she finishes her sentence. “This results in not only physical health traumas but mental,” she retorts. “Someone might not always be walking and have the courage to say something or fight what's wrong, the university website promises three minute response times. We should feel safe on our own campus.” 

Azriel isn’t stupid, he knows she was effected by this. He knows that they must have been delayed when she needed them and a new anger burns deep in his chest. “You’re going to start a revolution,” he says and she looks up at him with bright eyes. 

“We’re going to start a revolution,” she retorts. “As long as you're okay with it.” 

He smiles at that. Her passion was fueling her and in that moment all he wanted to do was help her set the world on fire if that would make her keep smiling. “Hell yeah I am okay with it. Let’s get some justice.” 

After Gwyn, Elain, and Lucien left Rhysand sat at the table. He had TA’s for a few of the criminology classes and was given access to the crime data center in order to pull cases for the classes. He scrolled through them, checking the time of when they were called in and when the security showed up to the scene. She was right. How did it take them so long? 

The door slams open and Cassian walks in, dropping his bag on the counter and flipping open the pizza boxes until he found one that still had some left. “What are you brooding about?” he asks with his mouth full of pizza. 

Azriel pulls his attention away from his computer. “Do you know Gwyn Berdara?” he asks. 

Cassian pauses midchew. “Do you mean coach's daughter Gwyneth Berdara?” Cassian says after swallowing his pizza. He takes a sip of his water before sitting across from Azriel. “Please tell me you don’t have a thing for the coach's daughter. He’s already pissy enough.” 

“Azriel has a thing for Coach Hyberons daughter?” Rhysand asks as he walks into the room as he grabs his own slice of pizza. “How'd the not date go?” 

Cassian chokes on his piece and they both turn towards him. Azriel rolls his eyes at the dramatics. “You had a not date with Coach Hyberons daughter?” 

Azriel groans as he closes her laptop. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to work on this anymore tonight. “No he had a date with Elain Archeron that turned into a not date when she showed up with her own date and Gwyn,” Rhysand supplies. “How’d you not know that that was Hyberons daughter?” 

Azriel stares up at him. “Maybe because his last name is Hyberon and her last name is Berdara? They look nothing alike? I’ve never heard him talk about her? Should I continue?” he draws on. “How did you two know?” 

Rhysand and Cassian glance at each other. “She’s his step-daughter,” Rhysand responds. “And we may have looked Hyberon up on facebook freshman year.” 

“Mrs. Berdara is way too hot for coach hyperion, he’s gotta be rich,” Cassian adds, taking another big bite of his pizza and chewing loudly. 

Rhysand reaches over and smacks the back of Cassian’s head. “Like you could get a MILF,” he retorts. 

“How does that make you feel that Azriel is hanging out with Elain Archeron, I was with Nesta Archeron and have plans to see her again, and your Archeron sister is dating your enemy?” Cassian asks leaning back in his chair to look over at Rhysand. 

Azriel shakes his head. He wondered if Cassian ever really thought before he spoke. Rhysand turns towards him slowly and gives him a sarcastic grin. “Fucking fantastic, thanks,” he deadpans. “But watch out Cas. The Archeron sisters are destined to break the hearts of the bat bros. Elain crushed Azriels tonight. Feyre crushed mine in the summer. It's your turn now.” 

Cassian lets out a bark of a laugh. “If anyone is breaking anyone's heart. I am breaking Nestas,” he responds. 

It is Azriel and Rhysands turn to laugh. “You aren’t even dating her and she’s got you wrapped around her finger. There’s no way she's leaving broken-hearted,” Rhysand cackles. Azriel drones them out trying to figure out how he knew Gwyn Berdara. 

He rubs his temples as he tries to think back on the last four years of college, cringing at the amount of partying he allowed Cassian and Rhysand drag him to over the years. Freshman year. His eyes widen as he remembers when he knows her from. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. 

Rhysand and Cassian stop bickering and turn towards him. “What’s wrong with you?” Rhysand asks. 

Azriel shakes his head. He pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to Gwyn since they had exchanged numbers before she left.  “I am an idiot,” he responds, grabbing his laptop and the few notebooks he had down there and going up to his room.

[fantasy-dreamers]

Azriel x Reader

It was late in the night, you were waiting for your mate to get back from a special mission given by the high lord.

After geting up to get a drink from the kitchen you heard the door open and cool air rush in. It was him, finally home. To you.

Sensing your footsteps he walked in your direction and quickly closed the distance between you two as you embraced each other.

It had been a month since he had you in his arms. His love. His mate. His everything. His forever.

Chuckling silently as his shadows danced over to your face and hands, he whispered, "although I am glad to see you after a long time, you should have been sleeping."

Pulling back a little to cup his face in your hand, his face so tired and yet so full of love for you. "I will sleep better knowing you are safe and with me."

He placed a lingering kiss on your forehead, his scarred hands grazing your waist.

He was always gentle with you, especially more after he came back from the missions where he had to kill, or worse.

He closed the distance between your faces as he kissed you. Passionate, but gentle. So much like himself. So tough and merciless, yet caring and soft, but only for you.

Pulling back after a few seconds you gave him a quick peck before looking up at him.

"I missed you." He smiled at this. At how vocal you are about your feelings, unlike him. One of the many traits that attracted him towards you.

With you, he never felt less. With you, he could feel himself heal. With you, he felt loved. And he wished that someday, he would be worthy of it.

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

A/N- hi everyone! I've just started this blog and I hope you guys liked this! Please send requests! <3

-Rhea

[gopeachllama]

My Masterlist

AO3

ACOTAR

I Was Made for You

feysand, canon AU, fluff

Someday, Nyx

Rhysand + IC, pre-ACOTAR, fluff

Sunlight Like Delicate Threads

Azriel, pre-ACOTAR, fluff, angst

You on My Skin (Forever)

elriel, canon compliant, slight angst, fluff, smut

Cuban Cigars and Cardinal Kisses

nessian, modern AU, smut

Kiss Me Like

elriel, canon AU, fluff

The Night Before

feysand, modern AU, fluff

Until the World Cleaved in Two

Azriel & Rhysand, canon AU, TW violence

Red, White, and Royal Blue

When the Party’s Over

henry pov, canon AU, heavy angst

[illyrianwingspans]

A Court of Wrath and Moonlight: Chapter 2

The fic is now up on my Ao3! Here’s the link!

Fic Masterlist 

Chapter 1

Trigger warning: This chapter contains graphic scenes of violence and physical/emotional abuse. If you are sensitive to these topics, please read with caution. 

CHAPTER 2

We ate breakfast the next morning in the dining hall. I’d convinced Vesna through a series of long whines and sighs to let me wear an outfit of my choice instead of my normally formal attire, claiming I was sick of being so presentable after such a hard week. She wisely chose to back off and I sighed at the warmth of the blush wool knit that hugged my arms. Papa sat to my right and Lucien across from us, both donning similar clothing for sparring. They’d be practicing after breakfast then going out for a hunt, traditions of theirs that held up every time  Lucien visited. It was nice to have an extra person at the table, to not have the scraping of utensils against plates be the only sound filling the space.

“And how is Helion these days?” Papa questioned, sawing through a thick slab of steak.

“As Helion always is,” Lucien grinned, “ruling and fucking as he pleases.”

Father snorted. A slight grin tugged at my lips. “Good to know things don’t change.”

“Indeed,” Lucien echoed. “And you, Tam? How are the state of things around here?”

“Not much different I’m afraid. The people are mourning, as are we, and everybody wants more money that we don’t have to give them, nor are they entitled to.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. He didn’t know what it was like to live as a poor, lesser faerie in the Spring Court. He kept to himself behind the manicured hedges surrounding them manor to hide from the fact that the people out there were starving. Starving of life, starving of passion, starving of purpose. This court had nothing to offer them, no opportunities in education, arts or in a decent well-paying employment. I’d seen it first hand when I went to help out with repairs of the wreckage Hybern swept through so thoroughly we were still recovering from it seventy five years later. And on top of it all, they had to pay the bloody Tithe, which could cost them nearly their livelihoods. Time after time, Mama tried to convince him to stop such stupidities, that we had enough money, that the court could make more efforts to rework budgets and fund other areas that could certainly use more development, but her opinion was scoffed at by the council as well as my father. She was relentless at trying, they were relentless at denying her.

It seemed Lucien too remained quiet at the words. I knew that he was thinking the same thing I was. He’d seen what wonders a High Lord makes when he cares for his people, when he cares for his position. It was no secret my father would’ve gladly handed it off to his brothers if he had the chance. But they’d been slaughtered by the Night Court and he’d had no choice.

Lucien quickly changed the topic. “And what of my blessed-daughter’s wedding?”

Papa smiled, wiping his face on his napkin before speaking. “Weeks away. The court is very excited to participate in the festivities. By the way Nevanthi is describing it, we’ll be celebrating for days.”

My eyes snapped to Papa’s. “Weeks?”

“Yes, Keorah,” he replied before sipping from his steaming mug of tea. “You’ll be eighteen on Nynsar. We’ll likely be setting Nynsar as the date.”

My stomach dropped to the floor. I barely had any time left. Then Carrick would be here, living here, living with me, sleeping in my room… If he treated females so sourly now, I could only imagine what it would be like the night of the wedding. If he would demand we consummate the marriage. The thought turned over and over in my head, making me sicker by the second.

“That’s too soon,” I breathed.

His eyes hardened. “Enough of this.”

And that was that. Lucien kept his eyes trained on his plate.

Heat filling my cheeks at the dismissal, I mumbled, “Please excuse me,” before pushing away from the table and storming to my room.

I paced back and forth along the white carpet, gripping my head tightly, wanting to rip the hair right out of their roots in frustration. Then I began chewing at the skin around my nails nervously, a bad habit I’d never been able to shake that came up in my nervous moments, which were often. I hated that I was nothing more than a piece of real estate to him, I hated that Carrick was such an asshole, I hated that I had no say in it, that despite my power and position in this court I couldn’t even object to the proposal, and I hated that I was pacing here alone in my room instead of being able to run to Mama, have her pull me into her side and rub soothing circles on my back. She’d know exactly what to say to calm me down. She’d know exactly what to do for me to let out my anger. But she was gone.

And I missed her. The pain and fury and sadness swept through me so strongly I put a hand to my chest, hating the physical ache that tore through it and made me damn near clutch one of the four posters of my bed to steady myself. I needed to have a piece of her, to bring her back to me when she was so far away.

So I waited until the sound of metal clashing metal resonated from my open bedroom window, then snuck quietly down the hall to the east wing where Papa’s room was.

Behind a heavy wooden door was a vast, open space with a neatly organized desk, two long armoires and a king size four poster bed, similar to mine, draped in black transparent fabric that swayed softly in the breeze from the open window. The fabric had slash marks ripping through it, as well as the black banner hanging from his window, and the curtains donning every other window of the room. There were three doors, one that led to the attached bathroom, and two that led to Papa and Mama’s respective closets. Clothes were strewn on chairs and furniture as I tiptoed through, and I remember when I was a child and I got scared at night, how I would run to this room and Papa would pull me up onto the bed to snuggle between them. When the only thing that filled Papa’s heart was his love for his first-born, the moments we shared together as a family were sacred. A bond had developed between the three of us. It was when Papa figured out he wouldn’t be having a son, that it would be his first-born female to take his place someday…that was when the hatred began turning that love to poison. Pure, unadulterated venom.

Mama’s closet was wide enough to be its own living quarters. I hadn’t been in here since she died, and hadn’t been here for a while before that, either. Her loveliest, most luscious gowns were hung on display in a neat row, while other clothing and shoes were tucked away into drawers and armoires. Besides clothing, two large book cases sat on the right side of the room along with a corner nook which was home to a side table and long chaise. We’d spend hours there together, reading, talking, teaching me to write. But my favorite part, the part she rarely showed my father, was her music.

In the left hand corner of the room sat a harp. It faced the window, so she could look out on the vast expanse of flower-covered fields that surrounded the manor as she filled the space with the sound of her nimble fingers expertly plucking the strings. She’d taught me in secret when Papa wasn’t home. She’d learned from her mother, who’d learned from her mother before that, and so on. It was an instrument originate of the Dawn Court, the sound of it exquisite, delicate and light, yet achingly beautiful.

She’d taught me one song only weeks ago. And as I sat down upon the stool, quickly stretching my fingers and taking a quick, deep breath, I readied my hands and cleared my throat.

Everywhere I'm looking now

I'm surrounded by your embrace

Baby, I can see your halo

You know you're my saving grace

You're everything I need and more

It's written all over your face

Baby, I can feel your halo

Pray it won't fade away

She’d written the words and accompanying chords and arpeggios that accompanied it on thick stationary that held itself up against the small stand that stood before the window. I squinted at it as I tumbled through the rest of the song, letting my voice lilt and dance and fill that quiet, empty part of myself, the crevice that’d formed when my mother’s soul left her body.

I ran through the song a few times until my nerves took over and I scurried back to my room, trying my best to put everything back in order and make it seem as though nothing was disturbed. I couldn’t even bare to think of what Papa would do if he found me there, amongst her things, using the most sacred possession she’d ever owned. I shuddered at the thought.

It’d been hours since they left and the sun was hanging high in the afternoon sky like a silver clam against the thin veil of clouds. I’d made myself a home in the library after returning to my room to pick up a book I needed to store to its place. The servants brought me tea and biscuits to munch on as I tore through a story, though I barely touched the food, and when I went to take my second cup of tea, it was cold. With a glance in both directions to see nobody was watching, I focused my eyes on the surface of my cup until steam began rising once again, the smiled as I brought it to my lips and the burning liquid ran down my throat.

A bob of red hair coming closer to the manor’s front steps was the only beacon telling me that Papa and Lucien had returned from their hunt. Feeling achingly bored, I slammed my book shut and marched up to my room, pulling my newly washed fighting leathers on. I quickly braided my hair then stuck my sword in my belt, determined to practice in broad daylight for the first time in a while. And not against a bloody tree, but an actual person.

Tamlin and Lucien’s footstep echoed in the great hall along with their chuckles and murmurs of approval. I could see why when two guards were hauling a great sized buck down to the kitchens to be skinned and prepped for the next few meals. Papa was always happier after a good hunt, so maybe this task wouldn’t be as daunting as I supposed. Feeling a sudden rush of courage, I trotted down the stairs until I stood before them. Papa looked me up and down before a look of disapproval dawned on his face. My stomach lurched.

“What are you doing dressed like that?” He demanded. Lucien looked my up and down as well, and his frown of disapproval was aimed at Papa instead of me.

“I want to train,” I said quietly but forcefully. “With Lucien. As we used to. I need to get outside.”

“Then go for a ride,” Papa answered. “enough of this. You have no need for training.”

“Tam,” Lucien protested quietly.

“She has me, she has all the Cauldron-damned sentries money can buy, and soon she’ll have a strong, powerful husband as well to protect her. She doesn’t need to train.”

“It would’ve been useful last week.”

I didn’t even have time to process the words through my usual mental filter before they slipped out. Instantly, his claws were unleashed and his face contorted, rage filling his features. Instead of breathing hard, roiling with rage as he usually would, we was still. Preternaturally still.

“Go back upstairs,” he said almost so silently I didn’t hear it. “There will be no training. There will be no ride.”

“Tam,” Lucien said again, more forcefully, and Papa only snarled in response.

With panic and worry and fear turning over in my gut, I pivoted on my heel and scampered to my room as quickly as I could, and I felt so fucking sick of myself, sick that I was such a coward, sick that just the sight of him consumed in his rage sent me into hysterics. But nonetheless, I sped to my room and shut the door as quietly as I could behind me. Then began pacing so hard I practically ran tracks into the carpet and biting the skin around my nails until they were bloody and raw.

* * *

A knock sounded from my door and without my answer Lucien was there shutting the door just as quickly as he opened it.

“I don’t care what he says,” Lucien breathed, his eyes locking with mine across the room where I sat on my rocking chair. I had my knees bent to my chest and my arms wrapped around my body, pulling myself into a ball and being as small as I could possibly be. I barely huffed an answer before he continued.

“Let’s go,” he said. “You need to train. You need to keep your strength up. Temper be damned, I won’t see him box you up. Not like what he’s done before.”

I didn’t have the strength or balls to tell him that it was too late, that I was in far too deep, that the leash of control he held over me was so tight I was nearly dead. But Lucien held his hand out to me, a desperate flare to his eyes, and I knew he needed me to do this for his sake just as much as mine. He once told me of the guilt and shame that’d wrecked him for not stepping in to help Feyre during her time of desperation and hopelessness, to be there for her and help her when Papa had abandoned her. The look that was in his eyes was probably the same look he’d given Feyre all those years ago. So, hesitantly, I reached my hand to his.

We became wind and darkness and dust.

I knew the clearing well. It was about an hour’s walk from the manor to the east where the forest was at its thickest, which was good for concealing any sound or light that might be emanated during our practice. When Mama and I would train, I’d sometimes burn entire acres down. Then, with enough concentration, make those trees grow once again as though nothing had happened.

The gift of growth. Yet another to add to the list.

I blinked against the sun, and Lucien only tapped the pommel of my sword to shake me out of my stupor.

“Now, so far you’ve been all talk, blessed-daughter,” he taunted, a smirk overcoming his face. He unsheathed his sword, the metal letting a satisfying sigh against its sheath. “It’s time to back up that mouth with some action.”

I only returned his smirk, and with one swift motion, unsheathed Aurora. The smooth metal glinted in the sunlight. The reflection casted a beam of light about the size of a gold mark. And when I angled it just right, that light found itself right in Lucien’s good eye. Distracted, he held a hand up to block out the sudden beam of brightness, and that’s when I struck.

With a barked cry of surprise, he sidestepped, only barely escaping the sweep of my blade. Two more swings and he’d was backed into a tree.

“While you’ve been dealing with ‘internal affairs’,” I said the two words with as much fake sophistication I could muster, “some of us have been getting up off our asses and practicing.”

His roar of laughter filled the air before he shoved me off and we started once again.

* * *

We were both drenched in sweat.

“Again,” he said, and there was a hint of wonder there, wonder I’d only heard in one other person’s voice, wonder that warmed my heart because it meant that they did not balk from me.

Again, I conjured that living flame within me, that fire I felt whenever the suppressed anger would stoke its embers and burn and burn and burn through my flesh and skin and bones until I was encompassed by fire and heat and light. When I opened my eyes, flames were crackling around me. I beamed at the sight, of being encompassed by something so dangerous it could kill and make flesh fall off of bone, yet felt nothing as I was consumed by my power.

“I’ve never seen anything like you,” Lucien said quietly as I made my way back over to him. He laid beneath the willow tree, legs crossed at the ankles, hands cupping his head. I sat cross-legged beside him.

“Not even Feyre?” I wondered, wiping my forearm across my forehead to clear the sweat. My muscles ached from all the sparring we’d done, and I realized very quickly that despite the fact I had to rely on training alone in the dark at night, I’d still managed to keep myself in shape and practice the training that Lucien and Mama had drilled into me since childhood. Lucien had been impressed, but I was even more impressed with myself. I realized that the pleased, satisfying feeling within my chest was pride.

“Feyre was Made,” he explained, “and that gave her all seven lineages of the High Courts. But yours is natural. You were bred with these powers. Your bloodline was bred so you could have these powers. It just baffles me how it all happened, because it sure as hell wasn’t Tamlin’s lineage that created what I just saw.”

I snorted, then softly said, “It was Mama’s. Her lineage was a cross breed of many different courts. She tried explaining it to me, and I got so confused that she needed to draw a literal map for me to finally understand.” I smiled at the thought and kept my eyes trained on my hands wringing together in my lap. “Her mother’s side was strictly Dawn Court, one after the other ascending purely from their lands. Her name was Alba. She taught Mama the ways of their people and their traditions. They were Peregryn, the Dawn Court’s equivalent to the Night Court’s infamous Illyrian region, and she fell in love with my grandfather, Sadian. Now, his lineage spanned many, many courts. His father was of Autumn Court, a High Fae with a substantial amount of fire-wielding powers, and a temper that would put Tamlin’s to shame. But his mother was of Night Court. She was from the Hewn City, as you know it, the Court of Nightmares. A clipped Illyrian female that rebelled from her tribe at the unfairness of it all, and turned to evil to make amends with her pain. They were both awful, awful people. Absolutely vile.

“When they had my father, he was mistreated since his birth for his size. He was lanky, tall and skinny, unlike his younger brother that turned out strong and well-built. But what he lacked physically he made up with his magic. When his brother went to lay a hand on him one day, he snapped, and unwillingly misted him completely. Before facing the wrath of his parents, he winnowed away. Away from the Autumn Court, away from his family, and for some reason the Cauldron only knows, he winnowed to the Dawn Court. Right into the Peregryn mountains my mother resided on.

“He learned their ways. He learned their traditions. He was still a youngling then, not even reached maturity, and so their tribe accepted him openly if only because he hadn’t yet learned how to fly because nobody back home had bothered to teach him. He built up his strength, and soon enough he was soaring with the rest of them.

“When Sadian met Alba, they were fast friends. And when Alba had her first bleeding, the mating bond snapped into place for both of them. They had Mama, named her Lyra. Years ago when Papa was visiting the Dawn Court, they met and fell in love, got married, and now here I am. With all these powers.”

“Where is your family now?”

“Dead. Either they died in the war with Hybern or of other unknown battles or ailments.”

Lucien whistled lowly, but his head was bowed in respect. Then, it cocked to the side. “And what of Lyra’s wings?”

I shrugged. “I’ve never seen them. I never asked about them. When I did, she refused to answer.”

“And you? Your wings?”

“Feel all you want along my back, Luci,” I chuckled, “there’s nothing there.”

“So…weird,” he said, his lip curling back. “The Mother works in mysterious ways.”

I let out a sigh. “Indeed, she does.”

* * *

The sun was setting by the time we winnowed back to the manor. The moment we landed in my room, I wanted to back track, to disappear right completely, to fold myself between those pockets within the world and stay there forever.

Sitting at my desk was Papa, claws fully unleashed, head bowed in repressed anger. Once our feet touched the carpet, his eyes were instantly piercing through mine, and the snarl that laced his lips was unlike no other I’d ever seen.

“And where,” he said quietly with such fury it made my bones tremble, “have you two been?”

“It was my fault, Papa,” I said instantly, that desperation I despised leaking into my voice, “I forced Lucien to take me out. We went to a clearing to spar.”

“Keorah—” Lucien protested, panic overtaking his features—

“Leave, Lucien.”  Papa demanded. He stood from my chair, slowly padding towards me, and the storm that was brewing in his eyes was unlike anything I’d seen these past few days. This was the remnants of Mama’s death, of my defiance, of the past two weeks since his last unleashing that’d built up within him and writhed beneath his skin, ready to release itself to the nearest person. Which always happened to be me.

“No.” Lucien stammered, his panic eyes racing between Papa and I. “Tamlin, calm down. She just needed to get out of the house. To exercise.”

“This is none of your concern,” he growled with a snarl, fangs extending, “now leave.”

“I will not stand idly by again,” Luci stalked over to me, his voice shaking with desperation and suppressed rage, “I will not let you ruin somebody else—”

“Lucien,” I breathed, tears making my voice shake, “leave.”

“Keo—”

“Leave,” my guttered voice urged him, “get out, now.”

His eyes met mine and there was a silent plea that danced in his eyes with the silver that was lined there. To Tamlin, he murmured, “You’ve lost an ally in the Day Court, High Lord, and you’ve lost a friend.”

Then he was smoke and dust and light, gone in a heartbeat. Which left me alone with the feral beast before me. But I knew what to do.

I steeled my spine. I clenched my muscles. My breath quickened, hyperventilating with panic and terror and though I could leave in a heartbeat, though I could rip my father apart with half a thought, I couldn’t because then it would ruin all the lies that Mama and I built together, it would ruin the only thing she left behind for me: the facade. And I couldn’t take that away from her.

But there was that small part of me, that sick, twisted awful thing that lived within the dregs of my soul that twisted and writhed in delight at the brutality about to be unleashed upon me. The part of me that whispered in my ear: you deserve this.

“You ungrateful, spiteful girl.” Step after step, he backed me into the pale blush coloured wall, and I barked in pain when he slammed his forearm into my chest. He dragged me up until my feet were off the ground and we were eye to eye, and I was wheezing against the pressure against my chest.

“I gave you everything!” He roared, and behind him, the entire room began trembling with his wrath: jewelry went flying from my vanity, the four posters of my bed shaking and collapsing beneath the force of his magic. “I gave you food, shelter, power, a marriage, a life, and my love,” his breath puffed against my cheeks in hot bursts, and I clawed at the arm that held me back, “and this is how you repay me? Disobedience?”

I dropped my arms, rage and wrath and heat boiling through my veins and choked out, “You never…gave me…love.”

The answering roar was so loud I could barely hear the sound of my body slamming into my clothing chest. The impact spread throughout my stomach, knocking the breath out of me, and I stared up at my ceiling trying to catch my breath but didn’t quite have time until his face came into view once again. This time, when he raised his mighty claws, I did not balk.

And as they sliced across my body over and over, I did not fight back.