#nyx soft spoken

[aichablogsbeauty]

Glowing Makeup Tutorial for Spring

[rowanisawriter]

hey hey hey idk how involved u r in hades 2, but if u r what r ur thoughts on moros 👀

i talked with him twice and his polite shyness had bewitched me body and soul. cant believe im falling for another nyx boy smh

hi babe i haven’t touched hades 2 yet (screaming and raging in ps5) but i am aware of moros in the way that a gazelle is suddenly aware of a cheetah hiding in the brush poised to attack….. that is to say, i am ready for him to destroy my entire life and ruin me forever

[cressidagrey]

Looked to the Sky - Chapter 15

Summary: 

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was, however, Azriel‘s mate with her own mysterious, untrained powers.

Also known as: Azriel tries to court his mate the human way.

Warnings: 

THIS IS THE LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE SEQUEL! SO READ THAT FIRST IF YOU WANNA READ THIS ONE OTHERWISE THIS MAKES NO SENSE!

Elain Bashing and without @k-godling this would have never happened.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

Azriel was in Eira's bed. Between a quilted coverlet, white and florals, making a pattern that formed stars, and embroidered pillow shams, edged with lace. He felt out of place, surrounded by the soft beauty of her work, even when she had curled herself together in his arms, short nails gently scratching his scalp.

He was exhausted; physically, mentally, emotionally…he was utterly depleted, and it was only being in her soft bed, with her soft body pressed against his that made him able to relax at all.

He was laying on his back, with Eira curled up against his side, her head against his chest and her fingers in his hair, and he’d never felt more content.

His chest was rising and falling evenly, his breathing steadier and calmer than it’d been in a while. His eyes were closed, the tiredness and exhaustion making it almost hard to even keep them open.

Azriel shifted the wing she was half lying on, wrapping it around her, and Eira laughed softly but didn't even try to shift away.

Her soft chuckle was a soothing sound, like a balm to his soul. Her body tensed slightly against him with her laugh, but she didn’t move, her body practically melting against his when his wing cocooned her along with his arms.

It felt peaceful…calm, and it soothed the ache within him in a way nothing else could. Her body was a warm, comforting weight against his, her hair against his chin and chest, and the feeling of her fingers gently playing with his hair almost like a lullaby.

“You’re going to fall asleep,” she whispered, her voice soft and quiet. He could feel her breath against his chest, and it was the only thing to tell him she’d spoken, her words so gentle they were almost lost in the stillness.

“This is nice…” he murmured, his voice soft and sleepy and almost a croon, as he held her a bit tighter to him, his wing shifting around her, to hold her even closer.

There was a shifting, a moving of position, and then the next thing he felt was a kiss on his chest and the feel of her body pressed even closer to his.

“Rest then,” she whispered, and her voice was so soft, so soothing. “I’m not going anywhere.”

She started humming softly, singing just like she did for Nyx. And Azriel did fall asleep, just for a little while.

He woke up when razor-sharp claws scrambled up his leg and he watched with amusement how Snow made herself at home on his stomach, happily laying there, making Eira laugh silently, her giggles shaking him. He reached out to touch the tiny kitten with a broad, scarred finger and she purred softly as he petted her. 

“As long as she gets attention, she is happy,” Eira recounted with a snort, pressing a kiss against his cheek and he chuckled, the sound raw in his throat. 

A knock at the door, made him freeze. It's just the High Lady, the shadows assured him, just as the door was pushed open.

"Eira?"

The bed creaked slightly, as Eira pushed herself up off of his chest. He had to fight not to pull her back, his arms still tight around her, and against his will, he loosened his hold on her, though not by much.

"It's just Feyre," Eira soothed, her voice so soft, and quiet, as she looked back down at him.

"Sorry to barge in like this," Feyre said, her voice quiet though he could still hear it. "Are you two...alright?"

He sat up, carefully not to hit Eira with his wing accidentally. "We are fine," Eira promised, her voice warm, slipping her hand into his. "Everything is alright."

There was a slight pause, and he could practically see the assessing gaze Feyre was no doubt giving him at that moment.

"You sure? " Feyre asked, and he heard the disbelief in her words. "Because you look...rough."

“We had a talk," Eira said, her voice even. "Did you already write to him?"

He couldn't help the growl that burst out of his throat at that. Eira didn't even flinch. He heard Feyre suck in a breath, clearly startled by his reaction, even as he felt Eira's fingers grip his a bit tighter as if to remind him.

"No," Feyre said, her voice still laced with possibly a hint of…worry? "Rhys and Mor are still talking about what the best way to go about it is. They have a draft now, if you want to read it...Are you two hungry? You haven't really eaten."

He was hungry. But there was only one thing he currently wanted to eat and that was sitting next to him. 

You should eat, the shadows pressed.

Eira was still looking at him, and the look on her face was so soft and tender and worried it made it so hard to deny her. "...We'll eat," Azriel agreed finally, and he saw her shoulders droop infinitesimally as if she'd been holding tension there.

"We'll be down in a few minutes," Eira said calmly.

"Don't take too long," Feyre warned, her voice dry. "Rhys is going to start prowling if you two don't show soon. "

Azriel barely stifled a snort at Feyre's words, even as he heard Eira let out a soft giggle.

"We'll be down soon,” Eira reassured Feyre. "We'll be down soon."

She waited until Feyre had left before she leaned to press a kiss against his lips. "Come on. We'll have to tell our family, don't we?" And that easy acceptance...like she didn't even need to think twice about it...not hesitating for even a moment to tell their family about their engagement, even when there wasn't a ring to show for it...

It made his heart twist in his chest, a painful yet overwhelming sort of feeling.

He couldn't help but pull her closer against him, leaning in to wrap his arms around her body, as he hid his face in the crook of her neck, his nose buried against her hair. "I don't deserve you," he whispered against her skin.

"You do. And I'll tell you that every day for the rest of our lives," Eira disagreed.

He let out a shaky exhale, his breath shuddering against her neck. The feeling of such certainty in her voice…he couldn’t help the way he shook against her, his limbs almost trembling against her as he held her.

"Let's go downstairs," Eira said, offering her hand to him.

He took her hand without protest, the idea of food a bit more palatable when it included her, with him.

His fingers clenched around her own, clutching her hand as if he was scared that if he let go she might disappear.

He heard her soft exhale at his grip, but she didn’t say a word about his hold as she tugged him off the bed after her. Her hair was mussed, her clothes rumpled from where she’d laid against him on the bed, but she simply shook out her skirt and that was it. She tugged him across the room towards the door and pulled him gently after her.

He let her pull him along, the touch of her hand the only grounding thing as his nerves twisted and his worry over what their family’s reaction might be. Would they be happy? Or would they be confused, horrified, angry?

"Nice of you to come back," Cassian drawled from where he was sitting, Nesta draped over his lap, whose grey eyes were immediately mustering Eira before they stared at him.

"We needed a nap," Eira said simply, her voice as soft and gentle as ever, as she tugged him across the room towards an empty chair, and the table full of food

"A nap?" Cassian repeated incredulously.

"A nap and a talk," Eira said with a shrug. "Tell Kleon that sadly he was too late in his offer for my hand, as I am already taken," she told Rhys, her shoulders squared, her chin stuck out.

There were several stunned looks around the room, as Feyre, Cassian, Nesta, Mor and Rhys all stared at her.

The silence was near deafening. And then Rhys let out a bark of startled laughter.

"You’re engaged then," he said, and it was a statement, not a question.

She shrugged, still standing by his side, her hand still firmly gripping his. “We are.” The certainty, the conviction in her voice made something in his chest ache.

The others were still staring, their mouths opening and closing as if trying to find the words. It was Cassian who spoke first, his voice incredulous as he looked at them both.

“You’re…engaged?” he repeated, and his words were a bit slow as if he didn’t quite believe it. “Wait, when?"

“Tonight,” Eira said simply, and her voice was unwavering, her spine straight and her chin held high, as if in a challenge ."We got engaged tonight.”

There was another moment of silence, where the room was so still it was as if no one breathed.

And then Rhys let out another bark of laughter. “Well congratulations then,” he said, his voice full of amusement. “You’ve got a hell of a mate there, Az.”

And somehow that loosened every bit of tension. There was a chorus of congratulations, as Feyre led the charge and suddenly he was swamped with hands and arms and backs slapped and hair ruffled and laughter.

And through it all, Eira stayed beside him, her hand still holding firmly to his.

"Do not mess this up," Nesta hissed at him, even as she hugged him. He heard the threat in her words, as her nails dug into his skin with her hug. And he knew without a doubt she’d make good on that threat if he did mess it up.

But instead of being fearful, in that moment…all he could be was grateful.

For this...for the family surrounding them...his mate, still holding his hand...he was just...grateful.

"No ring yet?" Mor asked. "Az, you know better than that!" she complained good-naturedly. 

He knew. He knew. He did want to get Eira a ring, a visible claim, something that everybody could see. 

"It’s being made," he rasped, and his voice was a near whisper, his guilt so overwhelming at that moment that his stomach churned.

It's not, the shadows sniped. You haven't even decided what you want!

Shut up, he hissed back, his mind filled with a mix of irritation, guilt, and agony over the fact that he hadn’t even startedlooking for her ring when it was his duty as her mate to provide her with one. But she was still holding his hand, her grip firm, as if sensing his turmoil, as if reassuring him that his lack of a ring didn’t matter to her one bit. 

"I do like pearls," Eira told him with a grin. He could only look down at her as he heard the words, a new longing filling him.

“Pearls?” he repeated hoarsely. He’d been fully prepared to start looking for rings embedded with diamonds, with rubies, emeralds, sapphires…

But pearls…he could just imagine her, with pearls against her skin, her creamy pale skin framed by the white of pearls…

"And nothing big, please," Eira continued. That had his thoughts halting, and a frown pulling at his brows.

“...nothing big?” he repeated slowly, the words leaving a bad taste in his mouth. Was she saying she wanted a smaller ring? The idea of giving her a small ring felt wrong to him. When he thought of a ring for her, he couldn’t picture anything other than a large stone, a ring encrusted with gems and gold so that everyone would look at her and know she was his.

But the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. After all, he knew Eira and the last thing she’d ever care about would be having anything impractical that she needed to constantly take off. The more delicate, the more subtle, the more unassuming a ring he got her, the better she’d like it…

But the thought of giving her a small ring felt like he was settling. Like he was disrespecting her. She was his mate, the woman he’d spend his entire life with…she should have a ring that was just as beautiful, as elegant as she was...

"Aaaaaand we lost him," Cassian quipped.

Cassian’s words broke him out of his thoughts, and Azriel scowled at his brother, only to realize…how true Cassian’s words were. He’d been so deep in thought, in contemplating the details of the ring he would get her, that he had ignored the entire conversation around him. And they were all staring at him.

The weight of their gazes had his neck heat, as he realized what he’d done.

But Eira was still holding his hand, her thumb rubbing soothing circles over the back of his palm as if to reassure him, to calm him and soothe his guilt over not having a ring for her yet.

"I was just saying that unless you want to get married tonight, signing a betrothal contract would wrap you both in enough paperwork that it makes it very clear to Kleon that Eira is utterly uninterested," Rhys said drily. "We'll simply send the Winter Court a copy."

He breathed a sigh of relief.  “Yes,” he said, his words eager, his grip on Eira’s hand unconsciously tightening as he spoke. “We should…we should do that.”

"If you think you can pay 2 cows for my sister and be done, you are sadly mistaken," Nesta said drily, making Rhys laugh.

"He doesn't even own a single cow," Rhys said with a laugh. That startled a laugh out of Azriel, and he saw Rhys, Cassian, Mor, and Feyre all struggle to hold back a grin. Feyre seemed to barely succeed in suppressing the sound, her lips quivering.

But Eira’s hand tightened in his, her eyes narrowing, but there was a hint of an amused gleam visible in them. “I am not a prize cow in need of bartering.”

Azriel had to bite his tongue to suppress a grin, the idea of his mate as a “prize cow” was both ridiculously charming and utterly absurd. “No, you’re not,” he agreed firmly, his voice rough. “You’re mine.”

"Besides, you can put whatever you want in these betrothal contracts," Mor said drily. "And it's not like they weren't oftentimes just made between families with no exact person even in mind, or that you can't put in them whatever you want. You want to put in there that Azriel forfeits his entire fortune if he does anything Eira doesn't like? You can."

"We are not doing that," Eira said sharply.

But Mor only gave her a sly smile, the gleam in her eyes sparkling. “You never know, Eira…he might just be tempted to do something stupid someday….”

"The shadows are on my side. I don't need his fortune," she gave back drily.

That startled a choked laugh out of Azriel, as he looked down at her.

“I feel like I should be insulted,” he said dryly. “Should I worry that you’d only be happy with me for my shadows and not for me ?”

Eira gave him a smile that was nearly wicked. 

“Maybe I would,” she said teasingly, and Azriel could see the gleam in her eyes, even as her fingers clenched against his side as if to hold him firmly to her. “Maybe I’ll only keep you until I can get the shadows to switch sides and become mine instead.”

His jaw almost dropped at her words, the audacity of her teasing, the hint of playfulness in her words, and he heard Cassian bark a laugh while Feyre gave a stifled giggle that sounded almost like a snort.

But he couldn’t even try to come up with a response, his mouth opening and then closing again as he tried to think of something to say…

"What do we need to do?" Eira asked Rhys. "We sign a piece of paper with our intent to marry, and that's it?"

Rhys leaned back against the back of his chair, an amused look on his face. “That’s it. It’s simple honestly. It's a blood-bound contract though."

"I don't need to drink his blood, right?" Eira asked, suddenly sounding worried.

Azriel had the sudden urge to laugh at her question, the fear in her voice at the prospect of having to drink his blood.

"No," he said, struggling to hold back a smile. "No blood drinking."

"You'll only need to prick your finger," Rhys promised with a laugh That managed to get a breath of relief out of her, and Azriel couldn’t help the urge to smile.

She was still worried, even with the simple task of a blood-bound contract. A contract that would tie them together, that would make sure that any other suitors, Kleon knew that she was spoken for, his. Her agreement to sign a contract to marry him…

He didn’t know what to think, what to feel. Just…everything, swirling together in a roiling mass in his chest.

"Paper and ink, Rhys," Azriel said, his words a near croak, strangled out past his tight throat.

Rhys’s gaze snapped to him, his eyes scanning over his face, then his lips curled into a small smile, as he nodded and stood.

"Paper and ink," Rhys repeated, his smile still firmly in place. "Coming right up."

It was the work of minutes to work out the wording, keeping it simple. 

Azriel’s hands shook slightly as he signed the contract, the words blurry in front of his eyes, his mind whirling at the reality of what he was doing.

His hand trembled as it went to his thigh to the sheath of Truthteller, and he pulled it out. He nicked the top of his thumb on the blade, letting the blood well in the cut

He let the red drop fall, watching it splatter on the paper, a thick, red smear that turned into a stain, dark and blotchy.

He’d just signed a contract, a blood-bound contract, pledging himself, promising himself to her, binding his life to hers…

He offered the pen to Eira, and his vision was tunnelled, as if the only thing his mind was capable of seeing was her slender hand, her fingers wrapping around the black ink pen as if to take hold of their future with her grip.

He held out Truthteller for her second, hilt first.  She reached out, her hand reaching for the blade, and a flicker of panic rose in him as he looked down at her, her small, beautiful, delicate hand reaching for something that could hurt her.

“Careful,” he managed to say, the word almost hoarse as he spoke, his voice rough. “You have to be careful, it’s sharp…”

She held the blade gingerly, the knife looking large and ominous in her small hands.

He watched as she studied it, a moment of hesitation clear as she stared at the blade, before pressing the tip against the pad of her index finger.

She winced, but only slightly, as she pricked her finger, a bright drop of crimson welling and then falling next to her own signature. The words around them were little more than a buzz in his ears, the only thing he could focus on was the fact that she’d done it, her signature and blood staining the paper...binding her to him.

Nesta signed next to her.

He watched as Rhys took the parchment, rolling it tight and sealing it with a wave of his own power.

"Done," Rhys said, his simple word shattering the silence that had descended around them.

Azriel had the sudden thought that he could hear his heartbeat, how it was thumping in his chest, louder than a drum in his ears. A pounding beat that echoed in his head, pounding along with three simple, perfect words in his mind.

His mate.

"That's it?" Eira made sure.

“That’s it,” Rhys said with a smile, that small, amused quirk to his lips firmly in place. “You’re officially betrothed now.”

Azriel couldn’t help the way his own lips curled up upon hearing those words, his thoughts replaying them over and over in his head.

Betrothed. Officially betrothed.

The words were like the sweetest honey to his ears.

Eira turned to glance up at him, those lovely blue eyes, flecked with silver looking up at him, her gaze curious, contemplative…and happy.

And looking at her, at the smile on her face, the happy gleam in her eyes, he realized that he’d never be able to get enough of that look, of the look of pure joy and hope on her face.

***

She was engaged.

The thought left her both giddy and scared, her heart beating a rapid tattoo against her chest.

Azriel…she was engaged to Azriel.

It was almost too much to comprehend, to even wrap her head around. 

The male she had never thought she would be able to have…the one she had fallen in love with the very first time she had seen him…

The man who made her smile and laugh, who made her feel all warm on the inside. The man who looked at her as if seeing her was more beautiful than anything in the entire world…

She was engaged, to the male who made her heart race in her chest, the male who with one look could leave her breathless and dizzy, the male who somehow looked at her like she was the most important thing in the entire world, like he’d do anything for her.

She was quite sure that she was never going to get over that.

The way he looked at her like she was the most precious thing in the entire world, the way his shadows reached out to her, the way they twined around her as if to shield her…

There was a certain amount of possessiveness in the way he held her, the way he touched her, as if he didn’t want her to ever be out of his reach.

And at the same time, there was a hint of reverence in his touch, in the way that he held her, as if he was afraid he would somehow break her if he didn’t hold her gently and tenderly...

Gods, she was getting worse than her sister’s romance novels wasn't she?

Eira didn’t know whether to laugh or not…she was being absolutely ridiculous, wasn’t she?

But gods, the way he smiled at her, the way he looked at her, his eyes full of such wonder every time his gaze found her…

Her good mood was even in spite of the weather, gloomy and cold as she pulled on a set of clothes and readied herself for the day.

The skies were overcast, the threat of rain in the air. The clouds were dark and heavy, hanging over the city heavy and grey, but even that could not dampen her spirits.

"You are in an awful chipper mood," Rhys said drily as she came down for breakfast. Feyre was yet nowhere to be seen but Nyx grinned at her as she dropped a noisy kiss to her nephew’s black hair.

“Maybe I am,” she said in a singsong voice, not even bothering to deny it as she reached for the platter of food. “What do you suppose could have me so happy?

Rhys raised an eyebrow at her, an eyebrow arched up almost to his hairline.

“Oh you know,” he said, his tone as dry as a summer desert. “I can’t imagine what could possibly have you in such a wonderfully happy mood…”

She hid a smile behind a bite of toast, even as Nyx babbled up at her, his small hands reaching up towards her, his small arms held up.

She reached out, picking him up and settled him on her lap, ruffling his hair and earning a bright, joyful laugh from the toddler.

Her nephew seemed happy enough to stay in her lap, his little hands reaching up to pat at her face as if fascinated by the sight of her.

She laughed softly, swatting his little fingers away before he accidentally stuck them in her eye, her gaze flickering back up to Rhysand.

He was watching the interaction between her and Nyx, his eyes flickering back and forth between the two of them, a smirk on his lips.

“He'll miss you, you know,” he casually commented, and she felt her spine stiffen in an instant at the words, her chest clenching slightly, her heart skipping a beat at the words. "Whenever Azriel and you do find a house to make your own."

Rhys' words startled her, the prospect of leaving Nyx behind making her heart pang in her chest, a twinge of sorrow sparking in her chest. "I'll still visit," she protested,  as she looked down at the toddler in her lap, the child happily patting his little hands against her face. Of course, she would visit. He was her nephew. 

Rhys' expression was almost rueful. "That won't change the fact that he'll miss you," he pointed out, just as Nyx gave a particularly gleeful laugh, his little hand accidentally smacking her cheek in his excitement.

She gave a small wince as the toddler's hand smacked against her cheek, a soft thud that stung just a little.

"He's young, he'll forget about me eventually," she said stoutly, even as the thought made her heart clench slightly.

"About his Auntie Ra Ra? I highly doubt that," Feyre said as she came into the dining Room. "But then, maybe you'll give him a cousin or two to play with."

The sound of Feyres's voice had her glancing up, and she gave her sister a smile, though her words made her cheeks flush as her heart stuttered in her chest.

"One step at a time," she said with a laugh, but the thought of children was already in her head.

Azriel's children, her own children…

She felt her head spinning, the prospect both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

Children...children with Azriel, with the male she cared so, so much for…

It was something she'd once thought would never happen, a family of her own.

The thought of it, of marrying Azriel, of having children with him…it filled her with wonder.

And even the nervous thrum of energy it sent through her didn’t diminish her mood.

She was just about to reach for a slice of bread, when she heard the entrance door open. She looked at Rhys questionable, who gave her a smile. "Azriel. It seems like my spymaster was thrown out of bed by his shadows at an ungodly hour."

Her heart skipped a beat at the words, her stomach flipping, and a sense of anticipation running down her spine.

And then she felt his presence like a brush of a cool draft, the feeling of his shadows winding through the room, almost like a greeting just for her.

They immediately twined around her wrists and hands, hissing wordlessly... like Snow sometimes purred just because.

A soft laugh escaped her at the feeling of the shadows, at the familiar way they reached out to her, winding around her wrists and hands, almost as if greeting her.

She reached out to brush a finger along one of the shadows, feeling a strange sense of joy at the way the shadow leaned into her touch, wrapping around her finger, almost as if nuzzling her skin.

Their Master was not far behind. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, in the doorway, his usual leathers covering him, his hair mused slightly from sleep, a hint of a smile on his face as he looked at her.

He almost took her breath away just from the simple sight of him, his dark clothes hugging his frame, his hair slightly mussed as if he had woken up late, his eyes still a little cloudy from sleep.

And that hint of a smile on his lips, just for her, a soft smile that managed to send her heart fluttering in her chest.

"Good Morning," he greeted. "I thought I...may get to kidnap you after breakfast?"

Her heart just soared even more at the words, a small laugh escaping her, her mood soaring at the prospect of spending time with him.

“You’re not too tired?” she asked, and his smile grew, a hint of mischief in his gaze as he looked at her. "I heard the shadows threw you out of bed at an ungodly hour," she quipped.

Azriel just shook his head, a small smile playing around his lips. "They had an errand for me to run," he answered.

“Important, I presume,” Rhys commented, his tone slightly dry.

“Of course,” Azriel replied, his gaze flickering across the room to her, the smile on his face growing into something a lot closer to a cocky smirk. “Of the most importance.”

"Where are we going?" Eira asked as she stood, finishing her Marmelade Toast with two more bites.

"Not that far," Azriel answered. "But put on a coat please, it's getting colder."

She didn't even get to respond before the shadows had already managed to get her coat from her room, making her sigh as they wrapped her up in it.

She was helpless to resist as the shadows worked her arms into her coat, a huff of laughter leaving her lips at their eagerness.

She managed to roll her eyes as her arms went through the sleeves of the coat, the shadows wrapping her up in her coat with almost gentle delicacy, almost as if they feared they might somehow break her.

A gentle tug on the hem of her coat had her turning back to face Azriel, who had an almost fond look on his face as he looked at the shadows.

"Are you alright?" he asked, nodding towards the black shadows, but there was a twinkle of amusement in his gaze.

"I'm fine," she replied, though she felt the flush in her cheeks increase slightly as she cast a look down at the shadows, feeling that odd sense of both affection and annoyance. "Your shadows are just...overly eager," she quipped.

"I can't really fault them," Azriel responded as she took his arm that he offered, waving to Feyre and Rhys as he led her out of the room. "How do you feel about flying?"

"The one time Cassian took me, I vomited all over him," she said drily.

Azriel gave a low, dark scoff, a hint of annoyance in his gaze at that. "Of course Cassian would make you vomit," he said, a hint of annoyance in his tone as he said his friend's name.

"Well, if it makes you feel better," Azriel continued, glancing down at her through half-lidded eyes. "I won't be diving and swooping the way that idiot would do."

"That's a little reassuring," she said drily, even as her stomach fluttered.

It was reassuring, definitely better than the thought of vomiting all over him, but it didn't stop her heart from thudding slightly as he led her towards the door. 

They were going to be flying.

Her stomach did a little somersault as the thought raced through her mind, even as he led her out the door, her breath caught in her chest as the wind tugged at her clothes.

She was going to be flying with Azriel, in his arms, with those wings of his.

"You still trust me, right?" The sound of his voice pulled her from her thoughts, and she looked up at him, her heart fluttering slightly as she saw the certainty in his gaze, the look in his eyes that made her forget how to breathe for a moment or two.

"Of course," she said, the words breathless, her heart skipping a beat in her chest.

She trusted him more than anything else in the world, more than everything. And while she didn't trust flying...she trusted him.

He seemed reassured by her words, a hint of relief flickering in his gaze for a moment, his lips twitching slightly into a small smile. And then he moved, one arm sweeping under their knees and picking her up into his arms, holding her against him in a tight, secure embrace.

"Just hold on to me." It was all the warning she was going to get.

There was hardly any time to respond, for him to even give her warning, and then her feet were leaving the ground, leaving the safety of the ground as he wrapped her tight in his arms.

And then they were in the air, the ground suddenly falling away beneath her.

She instinctively tightened her grip on him, her arms wrapped tighter around his neck, holding on to him for dear life as she felt the wind against her body.

She shut her eyes tight, burying her head against his shoulder, feeling the sensation of falling and a small, terrified gasp escaped her, her grip on him so tight she was probably cutting off his circulation.

"Relax, sweetheart," his voice was a low rumble against her ear. "Just relax. I've got you, you're safe...nothing's going to happen, just relax..."

She could hear the reassurance in his words, in his voice, and she tried to relax, tried to listen to him and the steady, reassuring tone of his voice, to the steady, calm beat of his heart, even as her own heart was pounding.

"You're fine," he repeated, his lips brushing against her temple, his breath a soft shiver against her skin. "You're fine, I won't let anything happen...just trust me, sweetheart."

She dared to peek over his shoulder...seeing the rushing water of the Sidra beneath them. They were crossing over from the River House towards the House of Wind.

The view was slightly dizzying, and she shut her eyes again with a small whimper, her head resting against his shoulder, her face buried in his leathers, as she tightened her arms around his neck.

"Almost there," he comforted her, the words a low rumble against her ear. "You're doing great, just hold onto me, love..."

And then she could feel the descent, tightly controlled, slower than she was sure he had ever done it before, only for her benefit...and she concentrated not on the ground that was coming closer but on these massive, majestic wings that stretched from his back.

She concentrated on the sight, on the dark, membranous wings that stretched from his back, on how majestic he looked, with the sun shining on his wings, and then her own feet were once again touching solid ground, and she realised she had barely dared to even breathe the entire flight.

She stood in his arms for a moment or two, her limbs still trembling from the nerves, her lungs gasping for the air they'd been denying themselves for God knows how long.

"See? Completely and perfectly safe," he said, his voice quiet. "No vomiting, no dropping you. Completely safe."

She let out a shaky exhale at his words, forcing herself to relax as she took a deep breath, her heart still pounding against her chest, her body still trembling. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that," she managed to say, a hint of breathlessness in her voice.

"Maybe you just need a lot more practice," he quipped, and she could hear the hint of amusement in his voice, the hint of satisfaction, that he was able to make jokes again. “A lot more flights with me. Maybe hundreds…”

She managed a small laugh at his words, feeling her heart give a little bit of a flutter at that, and she could picture it, hundreds of flights, all in his arms, just like this, and it flushed her face with colour.

"Maybe we should take it one flight at a time," she said, still laughing slightly.  "I think all the flights are just going to leave me as a trembling, terrified mess if I keep vomiting or panicking every time I get in the air, and I highly doubt you want that."

He pressed a kiss to her temple, as he finally let her down and only then she took in her surroundings. They were on the other side of the Sidra and she could still see the River House in the distance...

"Where are we?" she managed to gasp out, still trying to catch her own breath, her heart still racing furiously, her legs feeling a little wobbly from the flight.

Home, the shadows said brightly. We are home!

She looked down at the shadows who were writhing around her legs, a small smile playing around her lips as she watched them.

"Home," she repeated, feeling a sense of wonder and excitement coursing through her heart as she looked up at the house in front of her, taking in the sight of it, and feeling the beginnings of possibility.

Eira stared at the grey stone house, overgrown with ivy...with a blue door and matching blue shutters on its windows. It wasn't massive. Not huge. But big...big enough to house a family. Two stories and an attic, tucked along a side arm of the River. It looked...magical.

Slightly depilated, like it hadn't had somebody to take care of it...but…She stared at the house, taking it in with wide eyes, a thousand different thoughts and emotions rushing through her mind.

It was...perfect. It was perfect.

It was perfect and every little detail of it filled her with a sort of longing, a longing to make it theirs.

"Do you..." she spoke, her voice low, as she continued to stare at the house in front of her. "Does it have a backyard ?"

Azriel let out a low laugh, clearly amused by her question. "Of course it does," he answered a hint of laughter in his voice. "Do you really think the shadows would have picked a house that doesn't have space for your vegetable garden?"

She felt her cheeks flush pink with embarrassment to have her desire for a garden so utterly transparent, but she didn't shy away from it, just huffed a small breath of laughter under her breath, even as her heart did a funny little leap in her chest.

Let us show you! the shadows said excitedly, twirling around her wrist again and tugging her towards the house. There was no chance to resist even if she had wanted to, the shadows pulling her along towards the house, and she followed, a hint of excitement and anticipation rushing through her.

She cast a glance back at Azriel over her shoulder, but he only followed behind, a soft smile on his face.

The shadows were already opening the front door, letting her inside, and she stepped into the front hallway feeling her breath catch in her chest.

It was...perfect. It was perfect.

And it could be theirs.

She walked around, taking in the small hallway, the wooden floors, the high ceilings, looking into the living room, the kitchen, feeling a sense of possibility filling her as she looked around. And the shadows were already showing her around, racing ahead of her as she looked, almost seeming to vibrate with excitement as they pointed things out to her.

There was a sitting room, a formal dining room, a study, a large kitchen, a cosy nook set into the side of the house, and a small bathroom all on the first floor.

The shadows tugged her up the stairs. Towards the master bedroom, overlooking the stream. And then they tugged her into a room overlooking the garden.

The shadows were vibrating with such excitement now that she could barely keep up with them, but they tugged her forward, showing her the room.

For the babies, they whispered.

"For the...babies?" She repeated, feeling her heart leap into her chest, as she looked around.

It was perfect. For a child. For a few children. Plenty of space, and a full wall of windows that looked into the garden, and her heart was racing.

Yes! The shadows were practically cheering. For the babies!

She turned and met Azriel's eyes from the doorway, He was leaning up against the doorjamb, watching her, a slight smile on his face as she looked at him. He raised an eyebrow at her, a gleam in his eye as he looked at her.

She couldn't do anything but look at him, her heart hammering in her chest, her face flushed with excitement.

"You like it?" he asked, a note of smug satisfaction in his voice, and she could tell he was already pretty sure of the answer, having seen the shadows showing her around and having watched her reaction the whole time.

“Yes,” she breathed out. “But I need to see the garden.”

This time it was Azriel who let out a low laugh, amusement dancing in his eyes as he pushed away from the wall and crossed to where she stood.

“Of course you do,” he said, and there was an odd...tenderness in his voice, a fondness in the gleam in his eye. “Let’s go see the garden then.”

She didn’t even have a moment to hesitate, before he reached forward and took her hand. The contact felt like sparks in her skin, her breath catching in her chest as he intertwined his fingers with hers, and tugged her forward, leading her from the room and back down the stairs.

She was aware of the way her heart was racing as if trying to break free from her chest as they walked, and she could practically feel every point of contact between them. His hand in hers, every brush of his skin against her fingers, every place they were touching... Her skin tingled and danced, her breath caught in her chest, and she could have sworn she was shaking.

And then he tugged her from the back porch, tugging her out into the garden, and her attention was fully captured as she looked around her, at the space around her-

It was perfect. A space of green, of flowers... A riotous assortment of blooms, vegetables, a place to sit, a place to play...

And there was…as she turned back towards the house, and saw the blue door…suddenly she remembered. Remembered Elain’s vision. Remembered the fleck of blue in the background…remembered…this was their home. This was the place for their children, where they would grow and learn.

She looked at the house, at the back porch and the windows, the flowers and vegetables around her, and she felt her eyes growing watery, a sense of longing in her heart, a sense of home, the picture so perfect in her mind. And in her mind’s eye, she saw it - children running through the garden, playing in the grass, their laughter filling the air…

She imagined it. The children’s laughter, the sound of life. She could picture it, children racing around the garden, playing in the grass, children with light hair and dark eyes, and her heart ached, her throat closing up with an almost painful longing.

She wanted it. She wanted it more than she had ever wanted anything else in her life…

Eira turned towards Azriel, who was still watching her, a soft, tender expression on his face. He already had known what she was doing, that she was picturing what the garden would look like with their children, what the house would look like full of life, and she could see the longing in his own eyes, the same emotion that burned in her chest.

“Let me at least do this one thing right,” he requested softly, as he stepped close to her, as he grasped her hand and sunk down on one knee. “Eira Marie Archeron, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

She stared at him, her heart stopping in her chest. He was kneeling in front of her, his hand wrapped around hers, hazel eyes gazing up at her, a hopeful, hopeful gleam in his eyes, as he waited for her to answer.

She wanted to say so many things, wanted to tell him so many things, but the only thing that would come out of her mouth was a soft “Yes”…

He let out a shaky, almost desperate exhale, almost as if he had been holding his breath the whole time, waiting to hear her response, before his fingers tightened around hers, a fierce, hopeful gleam in his eyes, and it felt like her heart was burning in her ribcage.

She wasn’t even sure from where the ring that he slipped on her finger suddenly appeared. Silver. One pearl, flanked by diamonds. Small enough that it wouldn’t get in her way. But so utterly beautiful that she could only stare.

“The shadows had it all narrowed down,” Azriel said quietly. “They threw me out of bed this morning to drag me all around Velaris to show me the rings they had picked out. I chose this one…I thought it was the most…you.” She stared at the ring in wonder, taking in the simple beauty of the silvery metal and the diamonds and pearls. She would have been happy with any ring, any piece of jewellery that he gave her, but this...it was so her, she couldn’t help but smile, her heart filled with something sweet and warm and fluttery at the sight of it, at the thought of the shadows guiding him.

She could picture it, the shadows, tugging him all over the city, the shops lining the Sidra, guiding him to the perfect ring, and she loved the thought of it, of how the shadows wanted to help Azriel pick this perfect ring, that they wanted to help make this moment perfect for both of them.

“We would be lost without you,” Eira told them and they preened in response

They swirled around her happily, almost fluttering with pride, their dark matter moving like ripples in a pond as they basked in the praise, and she couldn’t help but smile at them, letting out a soft laugh as she watched them dance around her.

[florencemtrash]

The Artificer: Part I - Azriel x Reader

Warnings: None

✨Based on this ask ✨

Masterlist of Masterlists

"Azriel flipped through the information in his mind like a picture book: She specializes in crafting fae-bonded weapons using autoimmune magic. Brilliant, capable, and loyal - only a fool would underestimate her."

The air burned with unknown magic, mingled with the heady smell of smoke and metal and something else… something sweet and clean. Azriel couldn’t put his finger on it as he followed behind his brothers, weaving through the packed, but homey workshop. 

Bookshelves filled with carefully attended tomes on woodworking, metallurgy, glassblowing, and more lined one of the walls, some faint traces of magic keeping them safe from the dust and soot that tended to accumulate in the corners. 

The other wall was decorated with an assortment of keys - brass, gold, silver, steel, even glass twinkled in the faelight, like a hundred pairs of eyes winking. When Cassian reached for one, the metal began to glow and spark, spitting out thin bursts of magic that smarted until the Illyrian had the sense to pull away.  

When Helion first offered your weapon-smithing services to Rhys, he had sung your praises so loudly that Nyx had awoken from his nap, whining incessantly for his father to rock him back to sleep.

Originally born to noble parents in the Dawn Court. She moved to Day thirty years before Amarantha’s rule to escape an ill-suited marriage and has been quietly designing weapons for Helion ever since. She specializes in crafting fae-bonded weapons using autoimmune magic. Brilliant, capable, and loyal - only a fool would underestimate her.

Azriel flipped through the information in his mind like a picture book, cycling through the lines Helion had spoken and his own independent research. He could recite your birthday, the names of your parents, your grandparents, your older brother who’d been killed in the war against Hybern, and the day you graduated university. He even knew the planned date of your wedding to some pompous Lordling from Summer. 

What he didn’t know was what you looked like, and he wasn’t sure what to expect. 

Perhaps he’d expected someone more refined and regal - you were of noble blood after all… but then they rounded the corner and your soot-stained face popped out from beneath the workbench, purple lens goggles magnifying your eyes to vibrant proportions. 

You flipped the goggles up, resting them on your head like a crown.

Azriel blinked. 

Strands of hair curled around your fire-blown eyes, framed by soft skin that had been spared the worst of the soot by your goggles. You looked like you had stepped out of a flame - strong and resilient as steel.

You were absolutely breathtaking.

“Oh shit.” You quietly cursed, bouncing to your feet. 

You chucked the gloves to the side, hastily wiping away at your cheeks before dipping into a perfect curtsy. You were an actress caught in the spotlights after an ill-timed curtain opening, and you needed to make up for the poor first impression. You hastily slapped on the costume of the High Born Lady, feeling every etiquette lesson your mother had hammered into you slide over your limbs until you were a puppet on strings. 

“My apologies, my Lords. I lost track of time.” The words rolled out automatically, perfectly timed and perfectly pleasant, “Forgive me.”

Azriel frowned. He didn’t like the change that had just taken place. 

You held one hand artfully over your chest, the other flowing out to the side as you remained frozen in your bow. His eyes traced over the curve of your neck, catching on the sliver of skin that peeked out from beneath your work shirt, then down the slope of your sturdy shoulders and arms - strong and limber after decades of hammering away at glass and steel. 

The High Lord of the Night Court waved off the comment, a charming smile brightening his face as he hoisted you out of your curtsy. If he cared about getting soot on his fine clothes, he didn’t show it.

“There’s no need for any apologies. It’s a pleasure to meet you Y/n. Helion’s told me much about you.”  

You blushed, subtly brushing back the hair that stuck to your forehead and wishing you’d taken the time to clean yourself up… maybe wash your face properly and change into cleaner clothes.

“My brothers-” The High Lord swung his arm out in a slash of Night Court velvet, “Cassian and Azriel.” 

You had to keep yourself from sighing. They were all terribly attractive. It almost wasn’t fair.

“The pleasure is all mine, High Lord,” You curtsied again, “And Lords.” You appended gracefully.

The High Lord was as sensual and charismatic as everyone said with his twinkling violet eyes and perfect smirk - the kind of smirk that announced to the world that he was very aware of the effect he had on males and females alike. 

Your eyes flickered down to the tailored velvet suit. It clung to his body impeccably, carving out his broad shoulders and trim waist. How he wasn’t stifling in the heat was beyond you. The furnace roared a little louder, as if to push the point. 

The Lord of Bloodshed - Cassian as he was called - possessed a wilder beauty. He was all hard-cut lines and cords of muscle with a faint brush of stubble along his jaw that suited him well. 

But the Shadowsinger. He was the one you had trouble dragging your eyes away from. There was something heartbreakingly solemn about him, like a hero plucked out of a fairytale bound to end in tragedy. The same boyish joy that touched his brothers seemed to have skipped over him, and you couldn’t help but wonder why. In fact he seemed… displeased, and your heart began to beat a little faster.

“Call me Rhys.” The High Lord winked, drawing your attention away from the dark and silent Shadowsinger, “Any friend of Helion’s is a friend of mine, and I like my friends to call me Rhys. It keeps me humble.” 

Cassian snorted, “Sure it does.” 

He shoved past his brother, settling into a comically wide stance. You tried to disguise your surprise and confusion when he leaned down further to be eye level with you. His eyes twinkled with mischief, as if he’d caught onto the slip in your perfectly tailored costume and he wanted to rip it off and burn it to the ground.

“The name’s Cassian,” He held out his hand for you to shake, “Or Cass,” He tilted his head to the side, deep in thought, “Or Bastard brute, as my wife so lovingly calls me.” 

You snorted, then froze in horror, one hand flying up to slap over your mouth. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” 

Cassian tipped his head back and roared with laughter. It was the kind of sound powerful enough to fill a tavern and made you feel as giddy as three glasses of wine.

Azriel tamped down the jealousy that flared to life in his chest upon seeing that Cassian was the first to make you laugh. Not that he would have been able to make you laugh as easily as breathing… but he could dream. 

Your eyes were blown wide, confusion racking your body as every etiquette lesson crumbled into a pile of dust. Your mother had warned you of what to do with males that were too forward, too cold, too dramatic, too charming. But Cassian was a different breed entirely - he was too casual, too friendly and normal. It took you aback.

Rhys rolled his eyes. Leave it to Cassian to make a High Born Lady crack as easily as fresh ice on the Sidra. 

Cassian tapped his chest, looking quite satisfied with himself, “There’s no need for bowing or Court pleasantries. Rhysand’s the only one of us with any real house training anyhow. Prissy little Lordling.” 

“Hey.”

“You know it’s true, Rhys. You’re wearing fucking velvet.” 

Rhys snorted, “Don’t attack me because I have some sense of style.”

You swiveled between the two of them, uncertain of how to continue. “Well I-” You stammered, taking a step back and straightening your shoulders. 

Your mother’s words rang through your mind: Don’t slouch. 

“Apologies, for my… manners.” You finished lamely. 

“Good manners are wasted on Cassian,” Azriel said. Gods, even his voice was tragically beautiful, like the sound of rain drumming against a window, or the crisp call of wind when Autumn sighs its last breath and gives way to Winter. “And Rhysand too, actually.” He added, ignoring the sounds of protest from Rhys and Cassian. 

His heartbeat picked up when your eyes fell on him completely.

“Are they wasted on you?” If they were going to act so… uncouth, perhaps that gave you a pass, “Or did I suffer through endless hours preparing for my debutante ball for nothing?” 

Azriel tilted his head. He tried to imagine you as a debutante, paraded around to various suitors in a puffy dress like the gods-awful one Feyre had been shoved into for her first wedding, and it left a sour taste in his mouth. But when he tried imagining you in Night Court attire - something blue - he couldn’t help but find that he quite liked the scene he’d conjured up for himself. He smiled - a faint and quiet smile that made your heart go still.

Cassian and Rhys gaped when their brother quietly closed the distance between you two and bowed. He was the picture of grace - deadly, beautiful grace.

Azriel took your hand in his, reveling in the feeling of your calloused fingertips against his scarred palm, and gently brushed his lips against your skin. 

“No.” He murmured, casting his eyes up at you. You melted, falling into the molten sea of his hazel eyes, and it wasn’t because of the heat, “Good manners are not wasted on me.” He finished, straightening up and taking a step back.  

He didn’t look disappointed anymore. If anything he looked… amused and… at ease. 

You tried to imagine him smiling - a true smile full of teeth and unburdened joy - and found you quite liked the image you’d crafted for yourself.

You tilted your head to the side, trying to disguise just how much he’d affected you. One kiss and a look and you were a goner. How silly of you. 

“That was quite good. I’ll give you that.” 

Azriel tipped his head in a subtle bow, “Thank you, My Lady.” 

You scoffed. No one had called you by any proper title in centuries. 

“Shall we begin with you, High Lord?” You asked him first out of propriety, missing the faint frown on Azriel’s face. 

He knew he shouldn’t take anything personally. This was a business meeting first and foremost, but that didn’t stop the flicker of jealousy from budding in his stomach whenever you laughed at Rhysand’s teasing or whenever he leaned just a little too close to look at the sketches you drew. The only moment of satisfaction he felt was when you slapped Rhysand’s hand away from the wall, choosing to pull the samples from the chestnut shelves yourself before taking notes on the styles he preferred. 

Are you ok? Rhysand asked, raising his eyebrows. It was Cassian’s turn now and The Lord of Bloodshed sat beside you, carefully watching your hand drawn sketches come to life.

I’m fine.

You don’t look fine, brother. Rhys said with a smirk, You look like you want to murder Cass. 

Azriel wiped the faintest hints of emotion from his face, turning away from Rhys to look around the workroom. 

Everything was warm and coated in soft orange light from the raging forge. It felt like the moment before the sun sinks into the horizon, when the world is as syrupy and comforting as caramel. Chestnut bookshelves lined the wall, filled with as many trinkets, plates of armour, and weapons as books. A long workbench ran the length of the room, neat stacks of paper punctuated by gleaming blades of obsidian, moonstone, and steel. It was where you currently sat, outlined by the fire like some angel sent down from the heavens.

Azriel’s eyes stuck on one blade in particular, carefully laid out on a bolt of midnight blue velvet. Its bronze handle gave away to gold threaded steel sharp enough to cut light and shadow. The sheets had been folded over and hammered so many times that thin rivers of radiance twisted and turned down the blade, mirroring the runes that had been painstakingly etched along its spine.

“Lord Azriel?” His head snapped to the side, following your lyrical voice. You’d soundlessly made your way around the table without him noticing and now stood at his side, “Do you like anything you see?” 

Azriel froze. From this close up he could see the faintest gold flecks in your eyes, as though a forge was burning there too, some piece of you always hammering away at an anvil… but maybe that was just the hammering of his heart.

Cassian coughed. Loudly. Rhysand smirked, elbowing his brother, but Cassian was successful. Whatever spell had come over the Shadowsinger broke and color dusted his cheeks.

“It’s just Azriel - or Az. Either works.” He was technically a Lord… emphasis on technically. “Could you tell me about this one?” He pointed to the brilliant blade, hating the sight of his ruined hand so close to it. 

You picked it up with ease, spinning it around your body with a strong grace that made Azriel’s breath catch. You weren’t the most skilled swordsman by any means, but you knew enough. After all, if you were going to spend your life making swords you’d be damned if you couldn’t wield one properly.

“This one,” You said with a smile full of pride, “Is Sunseeker.” The blade began to glow, content to once again be in the hands of its master, “It took me decades to figure out how to bind weapons to one master, but once I did - well - I thought if anyone should have that kind of weapon first it should be me.” 

To your surprise, a faint smile graced Azriel’s lips. It was such a minor display, but it brightened the air around him. Even his shadows began to emerge, wrapping around his arms and inching towards you like a moth to a flame.

Sunseeker truly was a work of art, beautiful and deadly in equal measure. 

Cass whistled low, coming closer to admire it. “How does weapon binding work?” He asked curiously. 

Your eyes lit up mischievously, “Would you like me to demonstrate?” 

Cassian had just enough time to say “yes” and stretch out his hands before you handed him the blade and he dropped like a stone. 

“CAULDRON FUCK ME!” 

Rhysand sputtered, doubling over in laughter. Azriel snorted, a hand flying up to cover his mouth in surprise. They watched Cassian fall to his knees on the floor, grasping the handle of the blade that felt two thousand pounds heavier in his hands. 

You looked rather pleased with yourself. 

Cassian growled, bracing his feet on the floor and pulling up so hard Azriel could see the veins pop out of his neck. “Fucking hell.” He said through gritted teeth.

“Come on, Cass. Get up.” Rhysand teased, shoving his brother with the toe of his boot.

Cassian kicked him in the knee, but from his position the blow didn’t land properly, “I would if I could, you son of a b-”

“Don’t talk about my mother like that.”

“Fuck you.” 

“Just. Get. Up.” 

“I. Can’t. You piece of shit. I can’t let go of this gods-damned sword.” 

Azriel shifted closer to you, heavily amused as Rhys leaned down and grabbed hold of the hilt. His signature charming smile slid off his face.

“What the fuck-” He pulled once. Twice. Tried to pry his fingers off the hilt, but he couldn’t let go no matter how hard he tried. It was as though he’d been glued to a boulder.

Cassian smirked, “I told you.” 

You smiled up at the Shadowsinger as the pair continued to bicker, stretching up on your toes to whisper in his ear, “Hardly anyone knows about what I do so I have my fun when I can.” 

He fought not to shiver, feeling your breath curl around him as intimately as his shadows. Azriel chuckled - a low rumble in his chest that reverberated through your bones. 

“And how many have fallen victim to your tricks?” He asked. His voice was as smooth as butter and honey to your ears. “Just three. Your brothers and Helion.” 

“Helion?”

You nodded.

“I would have paid good money to see that.”

You grinned, leaning closer to him. Without a second thought, Azriel leaned in as well, as if he were a light-starved flower and you were the sun.

“Sunseeker is bound to me - tied to my magical signature and my blood. To me, she’s as light as a feather. To anyone else, she may as well be a mountain.” 

“And why can’t they let go?” 

“It’s another trick. If anyone tries to go for my weapon, they’ll be brought down to the ground and I’ll have enough time to kill them first.” You cleared your throat, “Not that I’m a naturally violent person but… well it doesn’t hurt to be smart about it.” 

“I would agree with you.” Az smiled once again, “Incredible.” He whispered, looking you in the eye, “You’re incredible.” 

You shifted on your feet, clasping your hands behind your back and looking away so he wouldn’t see how much his praise affected you.

“If you two are done flirting with one another, can you please help us?” Cassian grumbled. Rhys and Cass had both given up, opting to sit cross legged on the floor like a pair of scolded children.

You hurried over, muttering sheepish apologies. You’d overstepped and you knew it but… well they just seemed so casual with one another and with you that you’d forgotten they were highly powerful fae first, and your clients second.

The spell broke the moment you touched the sword, Cass and Rhys groaning in relief and jumping to their feet. You polished off the sword and placed it back on the table. 

“Ta da.” You wiggled your fingers. Cass huffed and Rhys cleaned off his clothes with a sweep of his hand. 

Az leaned down and spoke in your ear, hazel eyes glowing, “I think it’s my turn now.” 

You shivered, feeling both small and powerful under the weight of his gaze. Azriel decided to forgo the chair, choosing instead to kneel beside you. One arm rested on the back of your seat, hovering dangerously close to your shoulder blades as you repeated the same questions you’d asked Cassian and Rhys.

You jotted down notes diligently and Azriel took the time to admire your neat and simple handwriting. Your hand stilled over the paper as a tendril of darkness curled around your fingers. Azriel sat so close that your head swam with his scent. He smelled like winter mountains after rainfall - crisp and clean like a breath of fresh air. His shadows had similarly begun to wrap around you like an Autumn breeze, slipping through your hair and around your neck like they wanted to feel the pulse of your beating heart. 

Azriel swore under his breath, pulling them back as quickly as he could, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-” 

“I like them.” You said quietly, registering the shock in Azriel’s hazel eyes. You quickly went back to your sketch, “They remind me of home.” 

As a final step you took their measurements - the length of their arm, shoulder width, the distance between their hips and knees. Measuring Cassian and Rhysand went without incident, although they did poke fun when you pulled out a stepladder.

“It’s not my fault you’re all so ridiculously tall,” You grumbled, stretching out the tape across Azriel’s shoulders, “Did your mother fuck a tree?” 

The Illyrian snorted, “I wish.” He flinched once the words left his mouth, his smile twisting into a grimace.

“Hmmm?” You hummed curiously. Azriel felt your breath brush against the nape of his neck and shivered. 

“A tree might have treated her better than my…” Azriel trailed off. 

You’d been too young to attend Court when you still lived with your parents in Dawn. But even so, whispers of the Night Court were always followed by discussions of Amarantha’s whore and the Illyrian bastards.

His wings drooped and from the corner of your eye you saw Cassian’s gaze fall to the ground. Even Rhys bristled, the charisma sliding off his skin and replaced by something colder.

He loved his brothers more than himself, and the lack of a blood connection had never minimized the fact that they were his family - his legitimate family. He liked you, but one wrong word about his brothers and he would take his business elsewhere, no matter how talented you might be.

Azriel dared to glance at you, wondering if some part of you believed in the truth - that they were bastards unworthy of attention and respect in the eyes of true high fae nobles, or anyone for that matter. Even in your mussed up clothes you were radiant, carrying yourself with a confidence and grace that came from birth as much as it came from upbringing. 

You were royalty… and Azriel suddenly didn’t seem worthy of your attention, even though he was craving it right now.

Your lips tightened into a flat line, anger flaring up in your deep eyes, but you swallowed that anger and channeled the energy into making the brothers laugh once again, “Well I’ll go down on a limb and tell you trees are fantastic lovers.” You said, followed by a cheeky wink. 

Cassian turned to look at you, absolutely dumbfounded. Rhys was similarly shocked, violet eyes twinkling and mouth twisting into a smile. But it was Azriel who broke the silence first, tipping his head back and laughing so hard that his shoulders shook from the effort. The sound rang through the workshop, like the sound of rain falling. Cassian and Rhysand joined soon after, clutching their stomachs and leaning against chairs and tables for support. 

You bowed dramatically, arms sweeping to the sides like a tropical bird, “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all evening.” 

And Azriel took that very seriously. After the sketches were finalized and the blood samples were collected to be bound to metal, Azriel hung close to you, quietly begging Rhys with his eyes to stay longer. They wouldn’t be back for another six months after this. 

Rhysand raised his eyebrow knowingly at Cassian and The Lord of Bloodshed smirked. 

“Y/n,” Rhys said, voice dripping with persuasion, “Are you hungry? Perhaps you’d like to join my family for dinner?” 

You blushed at the invitation, “That is very kind of you, but I think I’ll stay here and work on these further.” You shook the papers in your hand, “I don’t want to forget anything.”

“At least let us bring you food then,” Cassian jumped in quickly, “Az! Why don’t you keep our favorite artificer company until we come back.”

Azriel blanched, stiffening up like a board. He could admire you in the company of his brothers when you were distracted, but he would be hopeless if left alone. “Cass, I don’t think-”

“Oh, I don’t want to take up-” You stammered.

“What a wonderful idea,” Rhys clapped Cassian on the back, all but shoving him back the way they’d originally came, “We’ll be back soon!” 

The door hissed closed behind them and you blushed, daring to glance over at the Shadowsinger. At least he also looked flustered. You could find comfort and hope in that. 

“I guess it’s just us now.” You murmured. 

His eyes softened, taking in your figure, “I guess so.” 

You spent hours talking with him that night, both of you leaning over the tables as you discussed your work and what your life in Dawn had been like. Your parents’ marriage had been arranged in haste after a drunken one-sight stand resulted in your brother’s conception. There was little love to begin with, but after his still-birth, whatever affection had existed between them vanished into thin air. You’d been born seventy-three years later - a true born noble in name only. Your parents never hated you, although sometimes you wished they did. Their indifference was a unique pain that you’d never been able to shake off.

But Azriel… Azriel was anything but indifferent. He hung onto every word like it was liquid gold dripping from your lips, and you did the same. Clutching what he said like pearls and committing them to memory. 

You couldn’t hide your disappointment when Cassian and Rhys finally reappeared four hours later. “Oh.” You whispered, pulling your hands away from where they brushed against his on the table. 

“Apologies, it took so long.” Rhys grinned. 

He didn’t look sorry at all. In fact, he looked very pleased to see you and Az pressed together, sharing the same seat despite the empty chairs scattered about the room.

Azriel was less pleased and Rhys didn’t miss the faint frown on his brother’s lips as you begrudgingly reclaimed a seat of your own, nestled between Azriel and Cassian. He also didn’t miss when one of Azriel’s shadows curled around the leg of your chair and tugged you closer to him. 

You listened to the brothers talk. Rhys and Cassian carried the weight of the conversation, as they usually did, bickering over lunch leftovers and proudly discussing the progress their mates were making with their respective projects - Feyre with her art studio and Nesta with her Valkyries. Azriel’s shadows shrank away, a glint in his eye dimming when the subject came up. 

You stole a glance, watching him carefully. When he caught you staring you smiled and some of that glimmer came back. 

“Can I see you again?” Azriel asked quietly once you’d finished eating. Rhys had already cleaned up the food scraps with a snap of his fingers and now lingered by the door, speaking with Cassian.

You looked puzzled, “Won’t you be here when the swords are ready? It shouldn’t take longer than six months. Maybe less. And I can still make adjustments then, if you don’t find it to your liking.”

Azriel shook his head, smiling softly, “No I meant before that.” He glanced at his brothers - his lovingly overbearing, nosy, matchmaking brothers, “Just us again.” 

Your heart skipped a beat, tempo quickening after the momentary stillness. “Oh.” You breathed, “I would like that. I would like that very much.” 

“Good.” Azriel took your hands in his, feeling the rough calluses of your palm against his scarred skin. He pressed a kiss to both hands, then looked at you, “Until next time then.” 

Azriel could never regret meeting you that day, nor could he completely regret seeing you the next week… and the week after that… and the week after that. He burrowed underground with you, sought after the warmth of your home and of your heart like a moth to a flame, daring to brush closer and closer with every beat of his wings. 

But it had been a mistake to visit you so often, and so brazenly. Here, in the safety of your workshop, he forgot there were fires that were not so nurturing and lovely. And he forgot that there were others who sought your power and not just your company.

Next Chapter ->

[blimpintime]

a jar of wind part two

Wynnie Lara is a fairy that was saved from a jar from Amarantha's reign of terror, but is soon figuring out that her time of peace is coming to an end.

warnings: none besides being slightly unedited.

word count: 1.4k

4 months later 

Dearest Wynnie Lara,

I hope you are doing well, we miss you very dearly in the Night Court but understand you leaving after such harsh things were spoken to you. I wanted to invite you to Nyx’s first birthday celebration. He does miss you so much. (As do we).

After finding out what Azriel and the other two had said to you I almost blew up their homes with the help of my sisters. 

Elain misses you very much, even though she writes letters to you weekly, you and her seemed to help each other heal after everything happened to you both. She won't tell anybody where you have gone so I will be handing this letter to her in hopes it reaches you. 

We miss you so much, and I hate that the boys said those harsh things to you for no reason. You are not a bother, or suffocating, you light up every space you go into which is so refreshing, I do not want you to feel forced to come home (Nesta feels otherwise, she misses you so much she almost started a war with another court in search of you.) But we do want you to know you do have a home here. No matter what. I know Rhys feels devastated with how the situation turned out, even though it is partially his fault.  I want to make it clear how sorry we are for their actions and that we adore you. 

Lovingly, 

Feyre

I crumple the edges of the letter with tears streaming down my face, with a shaking breath I fold the letter gently and put it back into the envelope. I set it with the piles of letters Elain has sent to me on my coffee table. I wipe my face and head over to my rough looking door of the tree house that I am living in and latch it. This area of the Autumn Court has always been on the poorer side but it was home. Growing up with no family and moving around as a fairy was never safe, so before Amarantha’s reign I settled in this area of Autumn. 

Having not been to this home in two years it took a while to get it back into shape, cleaning and removing critters that have turned it into their home while I was gone. I have wind chimes and wards surrounding this home just like my other one, the difference here though is the Autumn wind is much more soothing for me then in any other court. It’s almost like my soul knows it's safe here. 

I have my wind playing soothing music with the small instruments placed around the open room. Candles lit and windows open for the utmost ambiance while I research different wind patterns.

I hear one of my chimes go off near the front door that catches my attention, I get up from the table and walk back to the door.  Frantic knocking is what I hear once I get to the door itself, I rip it open to see what is wrong. 

“Miss Wynnie!” with a sob, and I look down to see one of the kids I help take care of from the children’s shelter near my tree house. Little antlers poke through his red hair, and tears stream down his tanned face as he launches towards me. 

“Oatie what is the matter?” I say and crouch to his level. I put my hands on his shoulders to sooth him and look him in the eyes.

“Those mean guards are back at the shelter, they are demanding more money.” Oatie is a twelve year old boy who had to grow up quickly due to being an orphan partially under Beron’s rageful reign, but he was still a gentle soul. Things have started to get better slowly with the new High Lord, but it is a slow process when the court has so much hate built in. 

“Okay sweet boy, it’s going to be alright. Go curl up on the couch with a book and some tea and I will go take care of this okay?” I tell him with a soft voice. He nods and heads off that way. Once he is settled on the couch I fix my dress, and re-braid the two long braids under my bob and fly off the balcony.

When I arrive at the shelter there are two guards yelling at the volunteer on duty at the shelter. With a burst of wind I separate them from the worker, and land in front of them. I motion for the worker to go inside.

“What is the issue here?” I bark at them, their heated eyes turn to me.

“They owe us money for protection.” The one on the right says with a grunt.

“That’s your job. The High Lord literally pays you to protect the people. So that was the wrong answer, do me a favor and try again.” I say while rolling my eyes and shifting my weight to one hip. 

“You bitch.” One says and I let out a laugh with a clap of my hands. I know I probably shouldn’t egg them on but it’s so easy. As I am about to respond they both seem to stiffen and look behind me.

“Well that’s no way to speak to a lady.” I turn to face the new voice, which belongs to High Lord Eris, who recently has had his hair trimmed since the last time I saw him. 

“She is barely a lady, my lord.” One said with a snicker. I respond with a glare and a large gust of wind knocking them both over.

I turn to face Eris completely and give him a graceful curtsy grabbing the edges of my green dress. To which I receive a sucking of the teeth sound from him.

“Wynnie dear, stand up please. You don’t have to bow to me, we are old friends.” He says with a soft smile. The two guards seemed to have disappeared leaving the two of us alone. I straighten and glow a soft pink with a cheeky grin say,

“Yes, well, I have to show my respect My Lord.” He chuckles and makes a small lunge toward me, so I float backwards and he narrowly misses me. 

“You’ll have to be quicker than that to catch me sir.” He grunts a small breath and lunges towards me again. And I am suddenly reminded of when we were younger.

“Eris! Where are you?” I yell knowing he is hiding behind one of the trees with his hounds. 

“Got you!” I hear from behind me and feel my waist being pulled into someone's chest. I look up over my shoulder and see Eris with a wide grin. I pout at him. 

“That’s not fair.” I whine. “You know I am afraid of your pups, they think I am a big bird waiting to be hunted.”  He laughs in response. 

“I would never let them hurt you Wynnie Lara, I would never let anyone hurt you.” He said softly. “You are my only friend in this wretched court. I will burn it down to protect you.” 

“Eris that is sweet but, you are an heir would that not be counterproductive?” I ask teasingly but my skin glowing a bright warm orange with endearment. 

“Not for you Wynnie.” He says.

“I can’t stay in this area long, but I did want to invite you to dinner soon.”  He tells me when we both are sitting on the forest floor. Me on a rock with my wings glowing and him leaned up against it. My hands naturally find his hair and gently run my fingers through it. 

“I would love to.” I tell him, “I might visit the Night Court here soon.” I say with a whisper.

“Oh?” He asks me softly.

“Nyx is turning one and I miss the girls a little bit.” I responded.

“Yes, that's understandable. I still am beyond livid for how you were treated there.” He says back with a huff. And I laugh a little, “You and me both.” 

“I will have to send you with a gift, hmm?” He tells me. 

“That would be very kind of you, my lord.” And in response I get him standing up and pinching my sides. 

“Mercy! Mercy!” I say in between giggles. 

“Alright Wynn. I will send a letter for dinner when you return. Be safe and have a good night.” He tells me with a pat to the head and soft voice. 

a/n: soooooooooooo what do with think???

I am a sucker for soft Eris omggggg. Please if any questions please let me know!

I am trying the taglist I hope it works lmao

taglist: @cazrielsfairygf @buckyloki888 @litnerdwrites @the-fandom-ness @booksbypisces @nerdyalmondlawyerauthor

[siriuslystyle1989]

Hard Liquor Mixed With a Bit of Intellect (Part 4)

Modern!Azriel x reader

Warning: Angst, Cheating, Elain bashing

series masterlist main masterlist

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

As days faded into weeks, and weeks faded into months, Y/n and Azriel's relationship became a well known fact within their inner circle.

Fortunately for Y/n, after that dinner, her and Feyre's sister Nesta had sparked up an unbreakable bond that was only strengthened by Nesta and Cassian's unlikely relationship.

As an autumnal breeze swayed its way through her apartment, Y/n breathed in a sigh. This was her favourite weather, sweater weather. Days got shorter and evenings drew long, allowing for the perfect ambiance when she lit a few scented candles.

Taking a long drag of her cigarette, Y/n began to reminisce on the way her life had changed. She never thought she would have so many friends. The hours of gossip her and Mor would share was incomparable to anything she had ever experienced before, smutty book shopping with Nesta had become a favourite pastime, visiting Feyre to see her and baby Nyx was also incredibly enjoyable. Y/n had even seemingly cracked Amren who appeared to have a soft spot for the girl.

The only one she had never properly spoken to was Elain.

Elain seemed to veer away from conversation with Y/n. She had brushed it off as shyness but she saw the animated way she talked to Azriel and couldn't help but wonder what her intentions were.

Y/n took another drag of her cigarette, these thoughts swimming through her mind as the doorbell rang.

Hastily, she put the stick of nicotine out, moving towards the door.

As the block of oak swung open, she was met with the face of Mor. However, not gracing her usual giddy smile but rather laced with worry and remorse.

"Y/n, I..." she spoke, hesitating.

"Oh my god what's wrong?" Y/n replied placing her arms around Mor to try and ease the distain on her face.

"Can... can I come in?" Mor spoke again, quietly, not in her usual boisterous manner.

"Yes of course." Y/n spoke, clearly confused.

As Mor sat on the plush sofa, she rejected Y/n's offer of a beverage.

"Y/n honey, I need to tell you something."

"Yeah? What's up."

"I'm gonna need you to sit down."

Following her friends instruction, Y/n took a seat next to Mor. Grabbing the girls hands Mor spoke up once again.

"There's no easy way to tell you this." She sighed, looking up as if about to cry.

"I saw... well me and Feyre saw... well Azriel and Elain... kissing."

Y/n's heart dropped in disbelief. There's just no way. She began to shake her head.

"No, no he wouldn't- no." She shook her head as tears began to fall.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry he's such a dick, you deserve so much better."

"But why- I- I don't understand."

Mor brought her arms around Y/n and squeezed tightly.

"Shhhh, I know honey, I know."

As Y/n's sobs began to quiet down Mor spoke softly.

"Do you want me to stay?" She asked, wanting Y/n to get the comfort she needed.

"No, I- I think I need to be left alone." Y/n replied, her tear stained eyes looking up into Mor's.

"Okay, well text me if you need anything at all, either me, Feyre or Nesta will come, kay?"

"They all know?" Y/n looked down to her feet.

"Hey, don't be embarrassed, its not your fault. We're all seething at Azriel, Rhys and Cass included, he won't walk away from this with no consequences, trust me."

Y/n let out a shaky laugh "Thanks"

As Mor walked out of the apartment, Y/n began to feel icy rage take over her, travelling up her like a wave.

She moved towards her phone, picking it up and making her way to Azriels contact.

BLOCK.

.............................................................................................................................

Azriel laid in bed, scrolling through his phone. He really needed to stop doing that.

He struggled to sleep when Y/n wasn't next to him.

Two more nights and she would be back in his arms again. They had been apart for a week, Y/n having loads of college work to finish and not wanting to have any distractions.

Two more nights.

Putting his phone down, Azriel tried to snuggle down into the sheets, tightly shutting his eyes.

He felt the coldness of the other side of his bed seemingly reach out to him. Calling him to talk to his love.

Opening his phone once more, he began to text her.

Azriel: I miss you lying next to me, can't wait to see you sweetheart.

*Message not sent, recipient has blocked you.*

"What-"

Confused Azriel tried to send another text.

The same thing happened.

no- why would she do that. He hadn't done anything to upset her. They had been sending "I love you" and "I miss you" just hours before.

Why would she suddenly block him?

Suddenly realisation slithered its way into his mind.

Oh.

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

A/n: Sorry for the slow updates im trying my best </3

Taglist:

@cynthiesjmxazrielslover @lilah-asteria

[llolianarchives]

The Prefect and The Draconia

A short overview of the Ramshackle prefect and their strange (but kind) horned fellow friend: as seen through the eyes of outsiders.

(A/N: #Malleyuu notes with an OC but feel free to project. We're all delulu here ╮⁠(⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠╭ )

His Henchman is crazy.

Or at least, that's what Grim thinks when he's woken up at sunrise to Yue's bizarre ramblings. Something about the time being 1 AM, then fireflies at night, and a tall, horned figure – is what he takes from their babble amidst his own groans and pleas to return to sleep. He'd think them delirious from slumber, mumbling about another dream, if it weren't for the way Yue's eyes sparkled with genuine interest. Grim yields, in the end, for one of the many things he's learned about his reliable servant is that they can be awfully enthusiastic when it comes to this world's curiosities.

“He told me to call him whatever I want,” Yue continues, ruffling Grim's fur dry with a clean rag. Before he could insert magnificent ideas of his own, they beat him to it with a soft smile on their lips.

“I'm thinking of naming him Nyx: the personification of the night. What do you think?”

“What? Because he only shows up at night?” Like some wacky cryptid.

“Yup.”

He hears his henchman forgo the brush, letting it clatter loudly against the table.

“Hm... Nyx, huh...” Grim falls into thought, testing the name on his tongue like premium quality tuna. He doesn't even notice how Yue ties the striped ribbon around his neck. Triumphant, he turns to them with a grin.

“That's not half-bad, Henchman! It's cool and mysterious. Not as cool and mysterious as me, of course, but I'd say it's a close second!”

“Naturally. I wouldn't dare bestow a name mightier than the Great Grim's.”

Despite the stream of praise his henchman delivers (which he pleasantly basks in), Yue eventually derails, returning to speak of the horned man yet again. What Grim's superior brain gathers is this: One, this Nyx guy is super weird. Two, Yue's interest has been piqued like no other before.

He'll demand some omurice as payment for his counsel later on.

. . .

Malleus has made a friend.

The news was dropped onto Lilia's lap rather unceremoniously when one night, the Young Lord—having just returned from another evening excursion, went to sit with him in the Diasomnia lounge. This time, however, the quaintest of smiles adorned his face... It was an unusual sight but certainly not unwelcome. And much like any doting parent, his curiosity led him to ask.

Malleus had replied with a question of his own.

"Lilia, do you know of the Prefect that resides in Ramshackle Dorm?"

"Yue? Why yes, of course. I've spoken to them once or twice. They made quite a show during the Ceremony."

Yue— Lilia soon comes to learn— is completely unaware of Malleus's identity as a prince and a figure of authority, of power. As such, they bear no fear for him, even going so far as to bestow him a pet name, of all things.

(“Nyx? As in the night spirit? How fitting.")

Thus began the pattern of Lilia covering for Malleus's nighttime absence, not daring to ask nor scold when the prince would return in strange and stranger states.

When he would return to the dormitory partially caked with dirt and mud (a consequence of helping the prefect with their little garden of life.) Or when he would return with a box of homemade cake, a pretty stone from their walks, a drawing of him supposedly made by the prefect's beast, and with inquiries of the complexities of human nature.

Sometimes, Lilia can't help but feel a bit guilty, constantly boring witness to Silver and Sebek's searches into the night.

Yet that sliver of guilt fades, in the end, when Malleus smiles more often than before, when he approaches Lilia in the winter with the request of delivering a Holiday Card.

As he watches the magicless human rush into their abode, card in hand, ghosts and Grim awaiting their entrance...

he has never felt prouder and more grateful for fate.

. . .

From a distance, Vil watches.

He watches as the feared Briar Prince lets a small, feeble human talk his ear off, calm and unresisting, a hand on his chin as he ponders along Yue's barrage of words. He gives the prefect full reign of the conversation. He lets himself be taken away by their stories and details. He lets them speak, which they do.

Just after the horrors, highs, lows, and thrills of the VDC, the two chat as if nothing even happened. The onslaught of it all feels like a fever dream to Vil. First, the mental toll of overblotting, then their loss to RSA's nursery rhyme performance, and now the shocking reveal of Yue (innocent, bold, mundane little Yue) and Malleus Draconia's relationship.

He isn't even sure what to make of it. They're clearly friends, yet Vil can't bring himself to chalk it up to just that. His years and years of showbiz cinema has taught him the ins and outs of body language. He watches. He sees:

There's the smiles on both their faces; cheeks raised taut, dimples carved with genuine laughter. There's that glimmer in Yue's eyes and the odd tenderness of Malleus's own, both gazes locked onto one another with an undisturbed focus. There's the fact that Yue had given him an invitation to the VDC, or that Malleus had fixed the stage partially to show off to the magicless human, or that their hands are currently mere centimeters away from each other.

In the end, Vil averts his gaze, weariness crashing into him all at once and he feels a pair of hands grasp onto his shoulders, keeping him standing. Rook smiles, gentle, knowing, annoying. Vil resigns to his whims and lets his Huntsman guide him back to the Pomefiore Dorm, the chatter of Yue and Malleus and everyone else fading away.

[moonlit-imagines]

Preferences: Being Klarion’s sibling and dating Dick Grayson

The Team x reader

warnings:

a/n:

prompt: @severebirdpeace: “Can you do oneshot story of Dick Grayson/Nightwing(Young Justice seasons 3 &4) x Fem s/o who is Klarion the Witch Boy's younger sister; unlike her brother she is kind-hearted, gentle, soft spoken and she uses her magic for good and she's been Dick's secret helper until she was discovered by the heroes and the Light. Each got their own reactions please?”

Artemis was a little skeptical at first. "Uh, how old is 'y/n'?" She asked, knowing that Klarion was about...well, Klarion was some millennia old. She assured Dick she'd be keeping an eye on the two of you, but she knew better than anyone not to judge by who you're related to, even if it happens to be an inter-dimensional chaos demon who has caused plenty of trouble in their years as vigilantes.

Conner did not get it at all. Like, at all. "You have to be joking," he'd say, "you're gonna put the whole Team in danger!" Dick would assure him that you weren't a danger to the team, but Conner was standoffish, believing this could only go one way. "I'll give them a chance, I guess. But believe me when I say I'll be keeping an eye on things."

Kaldur was protective, worried that this was an act of deception by the chaos demon himself. And hey, the Team had seen much more bizarre schemes, so it wasn't out of the question. "You will have to earn my trust, y/n. But until then, I'll have to remain somewhat apprehensive in your presence."

M’gann was very openly against this relationship, also protective of her longtime friend. "Out of all the people in this galaxy, you just had to pick someone who is literally related to one of our most powerful and annoying enemies! Are you being mind controlled? Do I need to go in there?" Dick chuckled and denied the accusations, defending your character regardless of how futile it would be.

Will found it amusing. After all, it was pretty ironic. "I like them bad, too." He joked with Dick, who promised you were nowhere near "bad" and were actually extremely kindhearted compared to your brother, Klarion. Will just kept teasing since he never expected this from Boy Wonder.

Zatanna really fought this one, trying extremely hard not to sound jealous. She did. But her main argument as a master of the mystic arts was that you were dangerous and not to be trusted, which was also a solid argument. Klarion is a very powerful demon and despite what the texts of her ancient books may say, she cannot trust any relatives of the Witch Boy. "Keep in mind that I will keep constant watch of y/n, one wrong move and I will send them back where they came from."

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @summersimmerus // @azazel-nyx // @simsrecs // @xoxobabydolls // @ravenstrueluv // @cicatraize // @captainshazamerica // @bad4amficideas // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 // @jade-178 // @deanzboyfriend // @zoeyserpentluck //

[grandlinedreams]

|| notes: waves hand i woke up thinking abt this so uhhh enjoy Az being a menace [AS!reader masterlist]

|| warnings: pwp, mention of Aria, Az is whipped and we love it, oral (f receiving), soft sex, reader and Az are just gooey and in love

Azriel is not a morning person by choice.

Given his propensity for liking to be awake in the darker, more solitary hours of the night, it makes sense that he'd prefer to spend early morning still asleep. And he does when he can, when there aren't pressing matters to attend to ㅡ or he did, until his daughter was born.

Azriel loves Aria, truly. The little girl has him wrapped around her tiny finger ㅡ but he can't deny that he'd jumped at the offer Feyre and Rhys had extended of a 'cousin sleepover', snapping up the opportunity for Aria to get to play with Nyx, and for the two of you to get a tiny break from parenthood.

(He'd missed Aria the second she was gone, and the ache that rolled down your end of the bond said you shared the sentiment.)

So when he still wakes to the soft glow of early morning sunrise without the pounce of a small half-Illyrian girl on his body, Azriel groans and reaches for you, snuggling you closer to him.

Either still asleep yourself or half-way between that and consciousness, the way you press against him in answer still makes his heart skip a beat as he silently admires you. Your hair spills over the top of one delicate pointed ear, the rest pooled against the gentle slope of your neck.

There are a handful of marks over the column of your neck, bruises bloomed strawberry pink under the attention of his teeth the night before ㅡ and the memory of the sounds you'd made, both then and underneath his body, makes Azriel's breath catch and his eyes darken.

You have the entire morning to enjoy each other's company, to revel in time that isn't spoken for by both the duty of Night Court and parenthood ㅡ and it's that thought that has Azriel pressing his lips to your neck with intent.

He starts out gentle. Your skin is soft and warm under his touch, but it doesn't take much to fully rouse you out of sleep as a hand finds his hair, followed by a sleepy sigh. "Good morning."

"Morning," he murmurs, pausing his ministrations to look at you properly. "Did you sleep well?"

You nod. "Very," you answer, hand sliding from his hair to cup his cheek, expression softening as he leans into it. "Did you?"

Azriel hums, leaning to press a kiss to youe forehead, then your temple, soft kisses peppered down the curve of your jaw. You let him until he catches a flicker of impatience from you, hard pressed to keep from grinning when you guide him to your mouth for a proper kiss.

It's slow and sweet for the early hour, though it dips into something needier as Azriel deepens it, muffling your soft sound as he moves to cage you underneath him. Your neck tilts to offer him more room when he turns his attention back to the marks he'd left, airy gasp leaving your lips as he nips at your pulsepoint.

He leaves a handful of fresh marks in his wake along your throat and collarbone, and the one he leaves at the top of your breast gets him the curl of your fingers into his hair, making him groan when you tug.

Azriel's not sure he'll ever get enough of the sounds you make, delighting in the choked moan from you as you arch into the warmth of his mouth over your breast.

He leaves both nipples peaked and aching, lips grazing over your ribs to your navel. The hitch of your breath when he stops at your hip makes him smirk.

"You're a menace today," you tell him, but you're far from angry as he nudges your legs apart ans presses kisses to both of your thighs. "What's got you so worked up?"

"You," Azriel answers, savoring your gasp and twitch of your hips when he offers a slow roll of his tongue against your slick folds. His hands are steady against the tremble of your muscles as he gives you his attention in earnest, following every involuntary movement of your body.

His name is a sweet cry on your lips when he digs the tip of his tongue against your clit, hand in his hair tightening as he lets you buck against his face. "Fuck," you whine, and the desperation in your tone makes his length twitch in response.

Your other hand fists into the bedsheets, white-knuckled as you writhe, chest heaving as your mate works you steadily towards your orgasm. The work of his tongue against your slick, aching core is nothing short of sinful, making your eyes roll as searing pleasure mounts in your lower belly.

The tug on his hair and stuttering of your hips against his mouth are the only warnings Azriel gets before you're coming, noises pitching higher as he works you through your orgasm.

Azriel only lets up when you've stopped twitching, soft whimper tumbling from your lips as he kisses his way back up your body. The taste of yourself on his tongue when he kisses you makes you moan, hooking a leg around his hip as your own buck in silent demand.

Azriel enters you slowly, eyes shut tight against the white-hot pleasure that licks up his spine at the way you clench around him. Whether it be for the early hour or simply because he wants to make this last, Azriel's hips rock against yours in a steady, languid pace, intentional in how he sinks as deep into you as he can before sliding back.

Your hands wander over him, eager to touch what you can reach with both your hands and mouth. He shudders when you suck a mark into his own neck, skin sweat-slick beneath your lips. Your fingers curl against his shoulders, mindful to skirt the jut of his wings from his back as you drag them down.

Azriel chokes when your fingertips graze where his wings meet his back and even though you're gentle, the sensitivity of the skin along with the molten warmth of your walls around his length has him snapping his hips against yours roughly a handful of times before he's spilling into you with a low groan.

You aren't far behind, arching into him as you clench around him, milking him for all he has to offer before you go boneless, pressed into the bed by Azriel's weight over you.

The next few minutes are spent in a symphony of soft panting brfore you can find coherency to speak. "Well," you huff, "that's one way to wake up."

Azriel grins against your neck and then lifts his head to look at you. "Are you complaining?"

You snort, but your tone is soft and affectionate as you press a kiss to his forehead. "No, definitely not."

[sleepnowmychild]

So we all know that deities show up looking different for different people, but Hypnos has always looked the same to me every time I see him.

Tall, slightly tanned. Long white, curly hair. Only one head wing, not sure why. Freckled, but in the shape of stars. Golden eyes with eyebags. Fairly young, like 20s looking. He wears one shoulder robes, white or purple. He usually has a crown of poppies but sometimes it’s an eye mask. Sometimes he has a blanket over his shoulders like a cloak and of course bunny slippers. He always looks ready for bed, unsurprisingly.

He sounds very quiet, soft spoken and never raises his voice. Gentle on pitch, pretty androgynous. In fact he’s just androgynous in general.

I don’t work with Thanatos, but I have an image of him I’m assuming from Hypnos. Since the two are so closely linked. He looks very similar, obviously since they’re twins. But he’s paler, his hair is straighter and his face is usually obscured by a hood. I’ve never heard him speak, I just vaguely know what he looks like. Same eyes, similar height. Although Thanatos seems more… skeletal? Like he’s got sharper cheekbones and his hands are kind of boney. I’d assume because you know, death.

Never seen Nyx, Morpheus etc. although I would like to. Just out of sheer curiosity about what they look like to me.

[purpleyoonn]

baby (you complete us) 7

C H A P T E R   S E V E N 

Summary: Soulmates were a common occurrence, so common, in fact, that the world sought an easier way to find your other half: A bracelet that would scan your mark and match you with those who shared your mark. Within recent years, soul groups were becoming normal, and your own bracelet said you have seven matches.

Or where you wear your bracelet for ten years, and finally give up the hope you would find your soul group, only for BTS to put theirs on and see what they were missing.

Genre: soulmate au, idol au, angst, fluff, eventual smut,

Pairing: Idol BTS x Disabled MC

Warnings: angst, mentions of depression, disabled mc (Ehlers Danlos syndrome), eventual smut, fluff, lots of fluff, mentions of disability, simp bangtan

Chapter Warnings: not much, insecurities, exploring, soul pain

*Words in Italics are spoken/written in Korean*

masterlist // chapter 6 // chapter 8

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

Previously on baby (you complete us):

They each had signed their name to the bottom, giving you the wistful feeling that rose up your back. Their words and actions made you feel cared for and had you slipping the bank card into one of the slots in your wallet, not entirely sure if you would use it or not. You moved back to the bed, sitting down on it and feeling the way your muscles relaxed into the bed.

You didn’t realize how much hearing their voices had calmed you down, had made you feel relaxed. Relaxed enough to fall asleep with your shoes on and your feet hanging off the big bed.

When you woke up the next morning, it was to the feeling of the soft silk sheets falling off the bed, leaving you cold and wishing you didn’t sleep in your traveling clothes. You were entirely uncomfortable and, in your sleep, ended up on the other side of the bed and halfway under the sheets.

You don’t know if you dreamt or not, but with the way you were moving in your sleep, you probably wouldn’t remember it anyways. Despite the restless sleep problems, you actually felt okay as you got up off the bed, not feeling any bad aches in your back or legs. You were able to get in the shower and relax under the stream of hot water after a couple attempts of translating the controls.

After your shower, you looked at the time only to see it was early, well, for this side of the world. It was 4:35 am in Seoul, meaning it was roughly 11:35 am in California, the day before? Time zones never made sense to you unfortunately. 

You had a couple of text messages from you family, wishing you good luck and asking for a phone call later on. Besides that, you didn’t have any new notifications.

Since it was so early, you didn’t want to bother anyone, but you were quickly becoming bored and wanted to explore with what little time you had to yourself before you had to meet the boys at the HYBE building later on. You figured that the area you were in had street lights, and probably some stores open so you decided to get dressed and explore.

Getting up, you dried off before moving over to your suitcase, lifting it off the floor and onto the bed so you didn’t have to bend down to open it or get your clothes. Unzipping the large suitcase, you decide to dress comfy, choosing a pair of leggings and a t-shirt along with a pair of socks. You pull your Agust D hoodie over your head, loving the feeling of it and how it reminds you of why you were here.

They were being unbelievably sweet and kind to you, despite you being unsure if you were even going to fully accept them or not. They treated you like you were always there, like they wanted you with them. All the expectations and dreams you held for your soulmates were coming true, and it was hard to come to terms with after waiting ten years.

Shaking your head out of your thoughts, you grab your phone from off the charger and your small card wallet from your carryon duffle. At the last second you also remembered the lanyard that the boys sent over, the “All Exclusive Access” pass with the HYBE logo on it, grabbing that along with your soulmate passport just in case something happened. 

Shoving all of those in the hoodie pocket, you move to the door, slipping your shoes on and grab the key card from where you placed it on the little entry way shelf before leaving the room.

It was quiet, to be expected, as you walked down the large hallway and flashed your key card against the small thing in the wall again, just like you did the night before. The elevator opened to bright lights and a mirror up hadn’t noticed taking up the space of the back wall. The small electronic clock above the floor buttons read 5:06 am, which meant the rest of the city would be waking up soon, if they weren’t already up.

The same desk clerk from before was the only one in the lobby, her friendly smile aimed your way as she calls out to you.

“Good morning, Mrs. Kim. Was the room to your liking?” You smile back at her, trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks at the sound of being called “Mrs. Kim”. You didn’t realize how much you would like the sound of it until it was being said.

“Uhm, yes, thank you.” You answer her question, before thinking it would be a good idea to ask her what the best place to get breakfast was, not exactly wanting to eat in the hotel, not wanting to be cooped up in the expensive building.

The desk clerk was super sweet and even wrote down a couple of places on some hotel stationary, giving you directions as she did. You were quick to thank her, bowing your head as you did, remembering the niceties and customs you looked up on the plane so you didn’t accidentally offend anyone.

You had also decided now would be the best time to practice your Korean. You knew that it was only a matter of time before you would be encouraged to move here, to be with your soulmates. It was inevitable.

You may still have some unworked through feelings about the entire situation, feelings of being unwanted and the like, coming and going that you needed to work through, but you also knew that these boys were already working their way into your heart, your love for the boys as BTS slowly bleeding through your growing feelings towards them as your soulmates.

This meant your Korean would need some work, because you wanted to be able to communicate with them; one less barrier removed.

You walked out of the hotel’s front doors only to pause at the sight of the large buildings in front of you. It seemed like you were in the middle of a huge shopping/business district. Moving out of the way of the entrance, you stand to the side and lean against the building so you could look down at the paper the clerk gave you. You were kind of overwhelmed by your surroundings and the feeling of your stomach doing a revolt against you for not feeding it.

You began to follow the directions told to you but had eventually gone off track with excitement as you noticed a 7-11. You had seen numerous tiktoks filmed within the franchise in Korea and had wanted to see what the hype was for yourself. You especially wanted to try one of those coffees they made with the bag of coffee and the cup of ice.

Opening the door, you were greeted by the sight of an older woman sitting at the register, her greetings of hello catching your ears.

“Good morning! Let me know if I can help you with anything.” You smile at her before answering back.

“Hello. Thank you!” Your words are slow as you test them out on your tongue, hoping you didn’t butcher the pronunciation of anything. You were relieved to see the smile in the woman’s lips grow as she hears you respond back.

“Wow! Your Korean is good!” She gives you a thumbs up, making you sigh out in relief at her compliment.

“Thank you.” You bow your head a little before moving into the aisles, eyes wide in wonder as you look at each and everything that catches your eyes.

The array of snacks and drinks catch your eye, even spotting some that are familiar to you like Cheetos and Doritos. You held your phone in hand as you glance back and forth from the Papago app on your phone and the snacks, trying to translate the best you could. As you move throughout the aisles and towards the cooler section, you snag a bag of M&M’s, along with a small pack of gummy worms.

As you get to the cooler section, you quickly set out to grab a package of cut up watermelon, craving the sweet treat after your previous day. Once you have that in hand, you move to the drinks, quickly grabbing one of the ice cups and settling on a vanilla caramel coffee bag, giggling in excitement as you did.

Juggling to hold all of that with one hand, you also manage to grab a couple of bulgogi gimbap triangles, having seen them out of the corner of your eye. These were one of the things you had always wanted to try if you ever managed to make your way to South Korea, and now you have your chance.

Deciding you can’t really fit anything else in your grip, you make your way back to the front of the store, seeing the smiling woman again as you place your things on the counter.

“Will this be all?” The woman’s voice is heard over the ringing of the machine as she totals up your items. You tilt your head as you try to translate her words, only for her to gesture to the items and give you a thumbs up.

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod your head in thanks, even more grateful for the woman when she grabs a plastic bag and begins to place your items in there. She leaves your ice cup and drink bag on the counter or you to make.

Once she tells you the total, you pull your wallet out of your sweatshirt pocket, only to remember you didn’t get the chance to transfer and money to the Korean won. You begin to pull out the card that the boys left for you, sending a silent thanks to your soulmates and a promise to pay them back once you see them.

After paying for you things and making your drink (which you record with your phone so you can have the memory forever), you thank the woman again before making your way out of the convenience store.

Seeing the sun begin to rise, you figure out your next move.

The Han River had numerous park designations, called the Hangang Parks, all along Seoul. Seeing the river was one of the items on your bucket list and you deemed it appropriate for the occasion. It takes you only minutes to find one of the entrances once you figure out how to google it. 

With your bag in hand, you were able to find a nice spot in the grass along the river that held an amazing view of the sunrise just as the sun started to peak over the city line.

You took numerous pictures of the skyline, the sunrise, and even of your snacks. You even took a couple pictures of yourself, choosing to document the trip. It was always something you wanted to do, one of the places you most wanted to visit and explore. You weren’t going to let the chance to make memories and have experiences pass you by.

It was now passed seven in the morning, and you figured the boys had to be awake right now. Deciding to take the chance with the small amount of peace and courage you held, you sent a picture of the sunrise with the skyline in the distance and a picture of you to the group chat.

m8tes

you: *pictures attached* I can see why you guys like the views.

Jimin: good morning baby! 😍

Taehyung: you’re up already! We thought you would still be sleeping!

Taehyung: how long have you been up, baby?

You blush at his words, the concern translated over as you highlight the text. Numerous different bubbles pop up as the others begin to text back in the group chat.

Yoongi: you look like you’re relaxed. I’m glad you were able to explore a little this morning. Is Songun with you?

Jin: you look beautiful baby. Those snacks also look good.

Jungkook: you’re up already? Why didn’t you message us earlier? 🥺

Namjoon: Jungkook, we can’t take up all her time. Plus, she said she would message us when she was up, she never specified when.

Namjoon: thank you for sending us the pictures. We are happy you are having fun.

Hoseok: Good morning, pretty girl. Did you sleep well? I see you are wearing yoongi’s sweatshirt again 😊

The blush rises on your cheeks again at the implication that you were wearing Yoongi’s sweatshirt. You know what Hoseok meant, but still.

You: I woke up really early this morning and decided it would be nice to get out and explore what I could. I found a really nice convenience store and bought snacks! I didn’t want to wake up Songun so I just got directions from the hotel clerk. I also didn’t want to wake you all up. I didn’t know what your plans were.

You: I slept really well. The bed felt like a huge marshmallow. And I am wearing it again. It’s very comfy and soft and I would wear it every day if I could.

You didn’t know it, but your response made Yoongi blush like no tomorrow, hiding his face in his sleeve as the others begin to tease him about it.

You wondered if now would be a good a time as any to get everything over with. If it would be a good time to talk and try and complete the soul bond with them. You could feel this pit forming in your gut, the ache slowly spreading to your back as you sat there. You had noticed it yesterday, had thought it was just nerves, but the closer you got to the boys, it seemed the better the pain was becoming.

Your soul pain reminded you just how much was at stake. You hadn’t wanted to ever feel this pain, let alone have your soulmates feel the same thing, no matter how the circumstances changed.

You plucked up what little courage you had left and typed out your next message.

You: would now be a bad time for my visit?

You almost immediately regret it. It was barely eight in the morning, there was no way they were already at the HYBE building, let alone probably available for your visit. They said they had no plans for the day, but you could only guess how easily that could change.

You glance down at your left-over snacks, the M&M’s, one of the gimbap triangles, and some watermelon wondering if someday you could come back here, maybe with one of the boys. It seemed awfully calming, bordering on peaceful and tranquil.

Yoongi: of course not.

Jimin: we’ve been at the building for over an hour, hoping you would message us.

Jungkook: it would never be a bad time for a visit from you.

Hoseok: do you still have the pass we gave you, pretty girl?

You move to respond but you feel someone move behind you, jumping when they end up sitting next to you on the grass.

“I’m sorry, Miss. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Turning your head you see Songun, a small smirk on his lips as you hold a hand to your chest, trying to get your breathing and heart rate back under control.

“Oh no, Songun. Don’t worry. You didn’t startle me. I just had a heart attack for absolutely no reason." You retort out of instinct, not seeing how he might misunderstand you until the words leave your lips. You go to apologize but he starts speaking.

“Well, you should get that checked out then. Don’t want to have another one.” You gasp again out of shock as he quickly retorts back, his smirk growing into a smile as he pats you on the shoulder.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t sneak up on people, and we would be good.” You respond back, laughter blending in with your words as you start to place your leftovers back into the plastic bag and gather your trash up to throw away.

“How did you know I was here?” You ask Songun as you start to walk to the nearest trashcan, feeling him walk in step with you.

“My bosses are good at what they do.” His words have you laughing again.

“You mean they told you where I was and asked why you were not with me like you informed me of yesterday?” He snaps his fingers at you.

“Correct. Which leads me to wondering, why did you decide not to call me before you went and explored?” You shrug at his question, not wanting to tell him you didn’t want to be an inconvenience, so you made something up.

“Got bored. Forgot your phone number card at the hotel.” You can tell that Songun sees right through you, but you were glad he didn’t push anymore. You had a feeling you would be touching on those hidden feelings sooner than you anticipated.

“Alright then. Are you ready to go and meet your soulmates?” Songun claps his hands together before gesturing you towards the waiting car parked on the street. You stare at it warily, but you nod your head anyways, pushing and grasping for the feelings the boys have already made you feel, hoping they chase away any of the doubt floating through your head.

“Yes.”

Next Chapter

[artemis-potnia-theron]

How I perceive different deities' energies

(based on personal experiences)

Apollon ☀️: Light coming up from somewhere deep in the gut. An ache that almost burns. And it might if I stare too long. Swelling gold. A chorus of music too perfect to be written, words that could shatter my tongue if I tried to speak them.

Brigid 🔥: A lump at the back of my throat. Tears in my eyes while I smile. Joy and grief mixed together under my ribcage. Melodies sung through the ages, and through tears. Warmth at my back and a hand on my cheek. Baked bread. Garden herbs. Clear water from a well. An embrace that could last an age.

Nyx 🌌: The low, echoing hum of something eternal. Something too ancient to comprehend and too overwhelming to be perceived. Endless. Ethereal. Peace and chaos. Quiet and thunderous. Coffee. Red wine. Onyx.

The Morrigan 🐦‍⬛: A chant of words I can't understand, spoken in a language I never knew and never forgot. The cold steel of a blade's edge. Sharp, precise, and unwavering. Her language of secrets and ancient knowledge could swallow you whole if you let it.

Hekate 🗝: Whispers. Shadows against candlelight. A flickering flame that knows how to dance in the wind and never extinguish. The smell of old parchment and herbs. A ripple on the water. As intricate and mesmerizing as a spider's web. Silent and sharp like a viper. A bark and a growl heard from somewhere too far away for me to see.

Aine 🧚🏼‍♀️: Sunlight breaking over the surface of a river. Citrus. Wildflowers. Fresh grass. Wind sweeping over a meadow. Chimes. Fruit trees finally coming into bloom. The juice from an apple trickling down my neck. Laughter. So much laughter.

Aphrodite ❤️: Flower petals. Something sweet and soft like honey that trickles down the back of my throat and seeps into my belly. It spreads all through me like starlight trapped in my veins. Bells. Bliss. A want that could dissolve me. A yearning that would hurt if it didn't taste so lovely. The pain feels like a lifetime away.

Tiamat 🐉: Clusters of stars. Endless reflections of light on the water's surface. The deep song of a whale that echoes through the pulse of the sea. An eye that gazes down from the cosmos.

Caer Ibormeith 🦢: A lullaby that has been with me for longer than I know. A kiss pressed to my forehead. That place between sleeping and awake, between real and not. Cool air at twilight. Dew on the glass before sunrise. Clean fabric. A veil. Flying over the world as it sleeps.

Artemis 🦌: Freedom. Breath-taking, devastating freedom. A stag drinking fresh water from a spring. A doe and her fawn, sleeping as the songbirds chirp at dawn. A rush. An absolute rush like mountain air in my blood. Fireflies in an open field. Bones bleaching in the sun. The thrill of a wolf pack chasing its prey. The moon over the ocean at night. Teeth. Bird calls. Wildflowers. A great bear that walks in the stars. Hymns only beasts can sing. Jasmine and animal fur and the midnight air.

[elrieldreamer]

My very humble addition to Elain Archeron Week Day 1: Visions. I am not a prolific writer, but I enjoy dabbling now and again. 💜

Precious Sight

As Elain’s eyes came into focus, she found herself snuggled deeply into the soft linens of her bed at the townhouse, with the dusky purple quilt pulled up to her nose. As she stretched, a deep, unfamiliar ache tugged at her muscles, as if she’d climbed all ten thousand steps to the House of Wind. Rolling away from the wall, Elain settled back into the soft mattress, intending to let her body’s clear exhaustion pull her back into sleep.

Just as she felt herself succumbing to the warmth and comfort of her nest, a small snuffling sound alerted her to the fact that she wasn't alone. Peering out into the room, Elain startled as she discovered that Azriel was resting with his wings splayed to either side of a plush, wingback chair that she often sat in to read late into the evening. His head was turned towards her, his features boyishly peaceful in sleep, and shadows lazing along his shoulders. Letting her gaze drop to his torso, she saw that his beautifully scarred hands clutched a small form wrapped in muslin. An even deeper confusion set in as she realized that the bundle was, in fact, an infant. She hadn’t truly spoken to Azriel in nearly eight months, since that accursed Solstice that had changed everything between them. So why, now, had he appeared uninvited in her room? And how had he possibly come to be sleeping here accompanied by a babe?

Gingerly moving herself to the edge of the large bed, Elain swung her legs over the side and lowered her feet to the cold, wooden floor. As she made to move towards Azriel to investigate the child, who was now beginning to make a high-pitched whine, her heightened fae senses picked up on an iron-rich tang in the air. A moment later, a rush of blood bloomed between her unsteady legs. Elain’s squeak of surprise roused Azriel, which seemed to spur the babe’s frustrated whine into a full-blown wail. Truly alarmed, Elain's widened brown eyes sought hazel.

“Azriel, what …” she started, but she was quickly cut off by Azriel as he rose quickly from the chair.

“Lainey, you should still be abed,” he said softly, scanning her from head to toe, “I’ll bring her to you to feed.”

Elain's breasts became heavy, reacting instinctively to his words; an unfamiliar need that she somehow knew only the infant could satisfy building in her chest. Azriel helped her back into the bed with one hand, and then gently lowered the babe to her arms. Peering down, Elain admired the sweet curve of the tiny head covered in wispy, midnight curls. The golden bronze of the baby's skin was so at odds with her own translucent cream, but it seemed right, somehow. Illyrian, she thought. This was an Illyrian infant, like Nyx. But … no wings, and her ears came to a soft point. Elain looked from Azriel to the increasingly angry child and back again, as a rush of understanding came to her.

Somehow, this babe … this babe was hers. Theirs. Tears gathered in her eyes as they also fell from an identical, doe-brown pair on the babe’s face. Untying the top of her nightgown, Elain released a full breast, marveling as her nipple was quickly tugged into the waiting mouth. She fondly stroked one rose petal cheek as it worked hungrily. Azriel bent down and pressed his lips to her forehead, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the improbable creature nestled in the crook of her elbow.

Elain whimpered as consciousness slowly found her back in the kitchens of the River House. She was splayed on the floor near the butcher block where she had been kneading dough for cinnamon rolls. Nuala leaned forward and slid an arm behind Elain’s back, helping her to sit.

“What did you see, Elain?” she asked, concern lacing her smoky voice, “Should I get Feyre? Rhys?”

Elain’s heart raced wildly, and an overwhelming emptiness gripped her as she choked back a sob. “Azriel. I need Azriel, Nuala. Please.”

The wraith was surprised by the request after so many months spent helping Elain to avoid the spymaster, but something in her friend’s face told her not to protest.

“Of course, Elain. I’ll send for him now.”

Praying fervently for the Mother to guide her words, Elain waited for Azriel. And for the precious future that she now knew awaited them.

[yourlittlebunnyy]

a court of shadows and darkness

masterlist - previous chapter

chapter four

summary: Selaene, Rhysand's sister, Azriel's mate runs away after the High Lord of Spring tries to kill her.

warnings: none

enjoy 🌝

"I mean, how is it that I am only now learning of your origins in my court?" Selaene's laughter echoes in the emptiness that has now, century after century, become comforting. "My grandfather was part of the Night Court, but then he fell madly in love with my grandmother and decided to go with her to the Dawn Court. But you know the story."

After so many years together, Selaene and Vanessa can say that they have become more than friends, they have become sisters. The friend had seen the tiger a few times and had been amazed by her elegant and feline form: she had a white coat with black stripes that shone like the moon under the soft light of the passers-by, as they had called them. She had a sweet little face, and one could almost imagine her human form. From time to time, a passerby would come close enough to walk past her, but never close enough to catch her in time, and in recent years, the number of passersby had dwindled, making her doubt her plan.

"You know, Vane, I'm grateful you're here with me, I would have gone crazy without you."

"I was on the verge of madness when I found you. Maybe Mother wanted to give us a sister. You don't have one, do you?"

"No, only a brother, as you already know."

Another pause between the two as they continue to watch the darkness. A sad, bitter smile makes its way through the Fae's voice.

"We deserved a history like your grandparents'."

"But we got it. You have Azriel and I have Thomas."

"Vane..." Selaene did not have the heart to admit to herself that her beautiful mate, after her family thought her dead and after all these centuries, had probably forgotten her and moved on with his life. Not to mention telling Vanessa, who had so much faith in fate to envy.

"No, don't say that, Elle." She knew the tiger was haunted by such thoughts as well, and coming to terms with reality hurt too much. The conversation faded into a heavy silence, like at the beginning of their journey.

If Azriel had moved on, she would not have blamed him in any way, in fact, as much as it hurt, she would have let him go for his sake. Sometimes loving means knowing how to let go.

"Please, Selaene," it is rare for the friend to use her full name, and when she does, she is aware that she is beginning a serious and poignant speech, "remember. If you are lost in the darkness, seek the light."

"Or light it up." She cannot see her friend, but she knows she is smiling and nodding at the same time, as she is wont to do when she is pleased with something Selaene does.

This little play on words, which has become their phrase, has been with them for nearly four centuries, and every time they repeat it, that little spark of hope in their chests shines a little brighter.

A snort comes from the Fae's mouth. "What's wrong, Elle?"

"Nothing, it's just boring." Vanessa chuckles, "Come on, tell me about your family again, last time I think you missed a few adjectives about your brother's eyes."

The two women laugh, and Selaene is grateful that Vanessa enjoys listening to her so much.

"Rhysand's eyes tend to be more blue than mine. Mine are all purple. When he looks at the stars, he dreams. You know, Vane, I think he would be a big believer in if you get lost in the darkness, seek the light" Her friend's laughter echoes in the now familiar darkness, warming the atmosphere.

"Let me guess, he is also the biggest dreamer you know?"

"Of course. But only after me."

"After us. There is no one who dreams more than us."

Azriel sighs, the last breath as a free male of the evening.

Like every weekend, he and his family join in a dinner party at Feyre and Rhysand's house, and after Nyx's birth it is a rare event, which is why he could not say no.

He hasn't spoken to Feyre since what was said in his room, and he hopes she hasn't mentioned it to her mate, or tonight he will have to endure yet another lecture about how in life one must move on, that he also loved Selaene but that they must let her go.

Dinner doesn't go on so badly, it allows him to clear his mind a little and spend some light time, and Feyre doesn't seem to have said anything, doesn't even seem to remember what happened. She does not look at him with pity, and Azriel would like to hug her.

Later that evening the family is divided between those who play cards, those who drink and chat, and Azriel. Actually, he was part of the players, but after winning three out of four rounds, he was kicked out by a slightly tipsy and irritated Cassian. He wanted to retort that he only let Amren win the fourth round because he is slightly intimidated by her, but he opted to keep quiet. Now he stands on the terrace to get some fresh air. He gazes at the stars and the moon, smiling to himself as he remembers nights spent stargazing with his beloved. A sad smile. Azriel always thought Selaene was the reincarnation of the Moon, she shone with her own light, but not blinding like the sun, no, she was beautiful and deep and mysterious like that silver orb in the sky.

"Azriel?" the voice of Feyre distracted him from his thoughts.

"Yes?" Azriel sang victory too soon. He hoped Feyre had forgotten the whole thing, or simply decided to ignore it, but of course not. If it is not Rhysand, or Cassian, now Feyre is added to the list.

"I wanted to talk to you. About a few days ago...," the Fae's sea-colored eyes stare at his face for signs of despondency. Azriel continues to look at the moon. His Selaene.

"I... I haven't talked to Rhysand about it. I know Selaene's history, though, and I know-I mean, I see how your brothers look at you. Or how you're still loyal to her."

At the sound of his mate's name, Azriel grits his teeth. His body stiffens, but he forces himself to breathe. Once, twice, three times, before he looks at Feyre, meeting her eyes full of pity for him. But when he does, he finds none.

She looks at him understandingly, as if to say "I am here, talk to me."

He is surprised.

"Do you want to know my - our story, so then you will look at me as if I were a puppy left alone?"

Feyre smiles sadly, her gaze following that of the Illyrian warrior to the moon. There is a small pause before she responds.

"No, of course not, Az. Clearly I'm saddened, because from the way Rhysand described her, from the way you react just to hearing her name, she sounds like a really special person, and I would have liked to meet her myself. But I won't look at you with pity."

Azriel weighs his words carefully before speaking. Feyre for a moment thinks he might pull back, his posture stiff and his breaths short. But then the male sighs, muscles relaxing almost imperceptibly, and Feyre smiles at him before gently stroking his hand, as if to invite him to speak. As if he is saying "talk to me, I won't judge you," and only then does Azriel relent.

"She was a very special person. She was ... she was my moon."

The female senses the pain he is feeling from the squeaky voice, and knows it must be the first time he has spoken of this to anyone. She has never seen the ShadowSinger so...human, so fragile. And yet, her gaze remains fixed on his face, and her eyes do not make him pull back, but urge him to vent.

"She, we planned to accept the bond the week when she... On evenings like these I would sneak into her house and fly with her to Velaris, we would lie on the rocks and as we watched the stars, we would talk all night. She was...she was everything to me, Feyre. I've never loved anyone the way I loved her, and I don't think I can. Rhysand wants me to move on, to find someone to keep by my side. But I can't even think of another woman when my wound is still so fresh."

When Azriel finishes his speech, he feels a weight lift from his chest. Perhaps this is the first step, he thinks, to moving forward.

He looks at Feyre, searching her blue pools for something he cannot find. And he does not know what he finds there, but he is happy with what he sees. She smiles at him.

"You know, Az. Maybe sometimes loving someone is also knowing how to let go, maybe you've kept this weight on your chest too long, too afraid to show yourself vulnerable to your brothers. I'm glad you trusted me."

A comforting silence falls over them, and Azriel smiles. Feyre tries to speak again, but is interrupted by Cassian.

"Come on, you two! Who wants to play mime?"

And with that, the two return and take part in the games.

next chapter

[blooxxy]

For you,my gentle one.

My soft-spoken,gentle god of peaceful death

,Son of divine Nyx and twin brother of blessed god of sleep,Hypnos,

The white-skinned one,

The one who tirelessly does his duties,

Trying to comfort those who have recently died.

The Lord who likes poppies and butterflies,

And at the same time,

The one that is feared,

Lord Thanatos,

I love you,

And I'm profoundly grateful

For your kindness and your gentleness

And I wish

For nothing more than your continuous presence.

I love you,

My Lord,

My god of death.

[pyromaniacbibliophile]

The Wild and the Sun

He always knew this was how it would have to be.

Bacchanalias are held at twilight and that is his earliest hour. The grapes bloom unseen at night as he languishes alone in the shadows, intercut with wild parties with a thousand perfect strangers learning the power of intoxication.

He sips wine darker than Nyx's outstretched wing and laughs with the owls. Thorn and tangled branches move aside for him as he makes his way through the forest. Eponine's domain, but at night his for mania and parties while she shines as Artemis Selene, the haunting moon.

He is wild. Wild things live in the dark, with their parties and their wine and their heady sin. Therefore he is wild. The black-moonshine of twisted trees and vines makes his home, patterned with grapes as deep purple as his eyes. Wild gods, gods of fang and claw and vines and dances, don't belong in the sun's sharp glow.

But oh, how he longs to.

Shining Enjolras. Apollo Phoebus. The sun, bright in the sky from dawn to twilight while he lounges in dark caves thick with grapevines. Enjolras. He is a god amongst gods, for surely even the Olympians must bow to his glow.

He is no Olympian, though he matches them in power he does not in mind, Cosette deserves such a place more than he, god of the unloved and the drunk and the wild. Olympus, with its gold and white and brightness unrivalled and cruel, is not his home.

Apollo, Enjolras, is everything he isn't. Beautiful, shining, fire. A god of logic, of the people, of justice and the sun. Power and heat to compel even the wisest- young, maniac, Combeferre Athenus's descendant, foolish Icarus fell, intoxicated by Enjolras's might and glory. Nothing but a child, yet he understands. Why would anyone not want to worship the sun, even in death?

Yet what does he know? He is nothing but madness and wine, no matter who or when or where, wine will cool them and the mania will ensnare them. What does he know of justice? Of the people, of logic? His grapes care not for titles or money, wine does not entrance only the peasants or only the nobles, and logic is destroyed by the first honey-sweetened touch of the juice, or the berries.

He is of those who dive into the sea at midnight, illuminated only by the moon Eponine, merely for the fun and the laughter. He is happy to dance from twilight till dawn, sun-down to sun-up, partake of wine and lusts and feasts and indulge in anything he wishes. What does he care for Enjolras?

Ah, but he does. Too, too much, he fears. How, when they have but barely spoken, and that at the cusp of twilight, or dawn- minutes where he can stay in his own wildness and Apollo to his sun-lit lands.

He loves the god of poetry, of rhetoric, of revolution and leaders. Enjolras is his oblivious opposite, his Achilles, his Orestes. He has heard speeches from the vine-patterned shadows of Olympus, listening soft at the edge to music spoken, twined into words with a weave finer than Combeferre's, a power greater than Zeus Valjean, a beauty more stunning than broken Marius Aphrodite.

He has never believed in anything more than drunkeness, wine, parties, mania, and madness. Those were his world but one other has upstaged them all, the belief in Apollo. A king among princes, he would follow Enjolras anywhere. And that is the crux of it.

Anywhere, into the sun even. He knows that, he has acknowledged it. One day, when his worship of the sun exceeds his wildness, he will leave his tangled forest and seek out Apollo. He has never loved carefully, or gently. He loves like ivy, like a wave. Love has always ruled him, so he keeps to his maenads and his shadowed grapevines. But now- well.

In daylight he does not live. He fades. It is not an easy thing to stay wild in the face of civilisation.

Yet all here will keep on partying and falling in love as the days change as simply as a snake shedding. Artemis of forest, Eponine of moon, she is as wild as he and will keep his wild few safe.

Love, true love, is rarely easy. Marius and Hestia, Aphrodite and Cosette- they love in synchronised equality. Enjolras, passionate leader, will not take kindly to himself, the cynical madness.

Yet burns, after all, are still warmth, and fire is no soft lover.

@miriyummy ....