#platonic! rhysand

[autumnsvixen]

Damaged - part 2

previous || next (coming soon)

Azriel x f! reader

After a long and arduous recovery, you are finally able to feel safe in the House of Wind. You can't help but feeling as if something, or someone, is missing.

Word Count: 2777

Warnings: Reader healing from wounds, some mentions of past trauma (including blood, violence, and abuse), Rhys being nice (?)

A/N: Holy shit, thank you all for the love on part 1. I was not expecting that AT ALL, but I’m really glad you’re all enjoying it! This is, sadly, another part without much Az, but he’s coming (he's WHAT), I promise 😊

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The past week was a blur of darkness and pain. Your only real memories consisted of hazy visions of winged males, swirling shadows, and an elderly female fae with kind brown eyes.

As your eyes drifted open, you were blinded by the brightness flowing into the room from the opened curtains. The elder fae you had seen throughout your recovery hissed at someone else in the room, “Morrigan, close that curtain. You’ll give the poor girl a headache.”

Your blurry vision began to clear as the panging in your head became apparent. The pain seemingly spread throughout your body as you fully woke. A groan escaped you as you tried to shift yourself up to better observe the unfamiliar room you found yourself in, only to be gently pushed down by the same female that had just spoken.

“Don’t try to sit up. You’ve recovered a lot, but you still need rest.” Her voice was kind but strict, leaving no room for debate.

When you spoke, your voice came out rough, throat feeling like ash, “where am I?”

Another voice filled your ears as a beautiful female with golden hair moved into your vision, “you’re safe. Cassian and Rhys got you to the House of Wind just in time.” She sounded like honey; soft and sweet.

Her words registered with you, “Rhys, as in high lord Rhysand?” You again tried to sit up in the bed, shocked that Cassian had brought you to the home of the high lord.

The younger fae, who you had figured out was the Morrigan, laughed as the other huffed at you, but she didn’t push you back down. You leaned your back against the headboard, the wood cold against your wings.

“Don’t say it like he’s some god, he’ll get even more of an ego. But yes, the high lord. He winnowed you from just outside of Ironcrest.”

The older female spoke next, “and you’re lucky he did. If you had gotten here any later…” She shook her head, dismissing the thought.

Your heart clenched at the thought that you had almost died.

The two females in the room seemed to notice your thoughts as your eyes glazed over, your last conscious memories replaying in your mind. Morrigan gently grasped your hand, “you’re safe now. I promise those males won’t ever lay a hand on you again.”

A tear fell from your eye as you turned your head to look at her, “I just wanted to be able to defend myself.”

“Those cowards cornered you. It was three against one. Even if you had been training with Cas for years, they would still have had an advantage.” Anger and disgust laced her voice, and the glint in your eyes told you that these were not the first cowardly males she had encountered.

You nodded at her words, but no response escaped you. You couldn’t shake the thought that if you had just been stronger, you could have protected yourself. Or if you had just obeyed your brother’s wishes, you wouldn’t even be in this situation.

Morrigan seemed to sense your reluctance to accept her words as truth, so she turned to the other female in the room. “Madja, do you think it would be alright for her to eat something?”

The elderly fae nodded, swiftly leaving the room. Morrigan sat on the bed next to you, careful not to move your injured body, “Cassian told me your name is Y/N, right?”

You nodded, and she continued, “You can call me Mor. Cassian didn’t tell me much about what happened before the attack, but I promise you that the people here will never treat you the way you were treated back in the camp.”

You didn’t have the words to respond. Part of you hoped what she was saying was true, but another part of you knew that your brother, despite his faults, had always looked out for you. Until now, that is.

“If you want to train once you’re all healed, Cassian and I can help you. If you want to go back to Ironcrest, that is your choice, though one I would hate for you to make.”

You furrowed your brows at her, “You would let me stay? You don’t even know me.”

She smiled softly at you, “let’s just say our high lord has a soft spot for those who have experienced the worst this world has to offer. And Cas has told us enough about you for all of us to trust you.”

Gently, you squeezed her hand, “did he tell you I was the most difficult fae he’s ever had to train?”

Mor laughed, the sound falling gracefully onto your ears and drawing a small smile to your lips. “He told us you had the balance of a newborn fawn, but that you were determined in your training.”

“Do you really think he’d want to train me even after seeing how utterly defenseless I was against those males?” You asked softly, the smile falling from your face.

She looked at you with a kindness you rarely saw, “I’ll say it until your ears bleed, those males are cowards, and it took three of them to face you. You weren’t defenseless and you are not hopeless, you just need training and some more confidence. Cassian would be lucky to have you as a trainee.”

You nodded, “okay then. I’d like to stay here and train.”

Suddenly, Madja entered the room, “not until you are fully healed. You will stay here and rest until I say.” She placed a tray holding bowl of soup and a glass of water on the table next to your bed. “I swear, all you Illyrians are the same, never wanting to heal, always wanting to train,” she mumbled.

Madja didn’t clear you to leave the bed for another three days. In that time, Cassian, Rhysand, and Mor all took turns keeping you company. The first time you had met the high lord, you had clumsily tried to bow from your place in the bed, which more so looked like you trying to fold yourself in half. Of course, with the aching pain in your chest and stomach, this was accompanied by a grimace, which was not the face you had wanted to greet your high lord with. He had chuckled, waving you off with a “please, you’re a guest in my home, I don’t need the theatrics.”

You had quickly developed friendship with each of them, but none as close as Cassian. Perhaps because he was the fae you were most familiar with, or you just associated him with the feeling of safety.

You had thought of asking Cassian about the shadow-made man, but something in your gut stopped you from doing so. Perhaps you had just imagined him, and they would think you were mad if you brought him up.

By the time you were finally allowed to train, almost 2 weeks after waking up, you had begun to feel at home in the House of Wind. You’d had meals with Rhys, Cassian, Mor, and Amren, a member of the household who seemed much older than a high fae should be. Mor had promised once you were at full health, she and Cassian would show you the city and take you shopping, to which Cassian huffed at.

You started to feel at peace.

That was until Cassian woke you up before dawn one day, demanding you change into training clothes that Mor had provided you and meet him in the training arena on top of the house. Though tired, you eagerly complied, excited to start back the training you had gotten so little of back at camp.

When you got to the arena, you marveled at the extensive sand pit and the weapons that hung on racks around it. Cassian laughed at your amusement, “normally Az and I spar with just our hands, but sometimes we practice with the weapons, either on our own or with each other.”

“Az?” You questioned.

Cas’s eyes went wide with realization, “that’s right, you weren’t exactly… conscious when he was here. Azriel is my brother,” he grinned, thinking of the male. “He’s also our court’s spymaster, so he comes and goes pretty frequently. He’s off on a mission to who knows where right now, but he should be back by the end of the week. He keeps to himself, so you probably won’t see much of him when he is here, but once you get to know him, he’s a good guy.”

You nod, wondering if this was the shadow man you had believed your mind made up. But Cassian seemed so bright, you doubted his brother would be covered in such darkness. “Well, I look forward to meeting him.”

Your return to training was slow, but every morning you went up to the arena, Cas pushed you a little harder. By the end of your first week of training, you felt back to the way you were before you’d been attacked at camp.

Everyone was impressed by your progress, including yourself. You had expected to be haunted by the memories of those males, but you instead let it push you to train harder, wanting to ensure you were never in that situation again.

“Would you accompany out to the city today? I have a few things I’d like to pick up and I want to show you around.” Rhys asked you while you were clearing the table from breakfast. “And, no offense, I think it’s time you pick out your own clothes instead of whatever Mor decides to gift you.”

You chuckled, looking down at the dress the female had given you that day. It was tighter than you were used to a dress being, and much more revealing than anything you’d worn in the camps. Mor had called it modest by her standards.

With a bright smile at the high fae, you said, “I would love to.”

The city of Velaris, Rhys informed you, was his closest kept secret, and you could immediately tell why. The bright colors of the Rainbow and the display of culture throughout the city instantly had your heart pounding with excitement. This was a safe haven in the night court, and you felt incredibly lucky that Rhysand had trusted you enough to bring you here.

He had stopped by a few shops, buying himself a new jacket that seemed to absorb darkness and a set of earrings that he intended to gift to Amren as a Solstice present. As you walked, he told you about the different shops in the city and stories of its inhabitants.

Your eyes went wide as he opened the door to a bakery, the smell of sugary bread filling your nostrils. Pastries you had never heard of lined the shelves of a glass case. He bought you a sweet bun filled with lemon-flavored icing, and you swore it was the best thing you’d ever tasted.

“I forgot how bland the food is at the markets back in the camps. Now that you’re in Velaris, I’ll make sure you get to experience the best food we have to offer.” He spoke as you gobbled up the sugary goodness.

You swallowed before speaking, “I really don’t know how I can ever repay your kindness, Rhysand. Seriously.”

He waved you off, “keep training and gathering your strength, and I’m sure I can find you a place in my circle. But even if you never work for me, I will continue to spoil you with the goodness of this city. You deserve it.”

Happy tears filled your eyes as he spoke. You had never experienced such care before arriving to the House of Wind, and now it all felt overwhelming. “I don’t have words to explain how honored I am to be here. One day, I will find a way to repay your kindness.”

He smirked playfully, “well, until you do, I’m going to continue to spoil you. I was thinking we could visit the clothes shops in the palace of thread and jewels.”

By the time you had finished shopping, you and Rhys were surrounded by bags filled with clothes and shoes. You insisted you would pay him back, but he simply waved off the expense as a “welcome present.”

The sky was dark as you exited the last shop, and your eyes widened as you spotted the lights lining the river that ran through the city. The high lord seemed to take notice of your amazement, as if he had expected it. “It’s even better from above,” he said quietly. With a wave of his hands, the bags in your arms disappeared.

You were shocked at the easy display of magic, until you realized what he had implied. You looked at him sadly, “I can’t- my wings-“

“I’ll carry you,” he cut you off. You nodded, thankful he understood. He picked you up, strong arms beneath your back and knees, before shooting off into the sky. You wrapped your own arms tightly around his neck as you screeched, the sudden weightlessness of flying catching you off guard.

There was something about being in the air that felt so natural. You knew it was due to your heritage, as Illyrians belonged in the sky, but you had never had the opportunity to actually experience it until now.

And Rhys was right, the city was somehow more beautiful from up here. The lights reflected off the Sidra, the waves making them appear to dance. The city squares seemed alive with lights and people. It was all breathtaking.

Rhys carried you through the air, dipping low before shooting high, as if playing a game of tag with the wind. You laughed as it blew your hair in all different directions. You stayed in the air for almost an hour, though you felt as if you could’ve stayed for years, before you landed on a balcony back in the House of Wind.

“Thank you for that, truly.” You spoke to him, removing your arms from his neck as your feet touched the ground.

He smiled at you, “any time.”

As you both walked into the seating room you had landed outside of, your breath is halted in your throat at the site of a male that had haunted your dreams since you arrived at the house.

Hazel eyes studied you for a moment before moving over to the male standing next to you. “Rhys, we need to talk.”

Rhys smirked, prancing to a nearby bar cart and pouring himself a glass of fae wine, “nice to see you too, brother. Glad you’re home safe.”

The stunning male’s expression remained neutral as he stared at Rhysand, unamused at his antics. You studied the angled bones of his cheeks and jaw, the shadows that swirled around his shoulders and neck. This was the man you had thought you imagined. And now that you had seen him, you were even more interested in learning more about him.

“Rhys.” His tone was stern. His voice pulled goosebumps to your skin, the deepness fitting his dark and shadowy appearance.

The high lord gave you a pitiful smile, “your bags are in your room, y/n, if you’d like to go admire your new belongings. Azriel and I need to discuss some things.”

You nodded, understanding his words for the dismissal they were. In that moment you also realized that this was the Azriel that Cassian had spoken to you so highly about. You remembered his words, “he keeps to himself… but once you get to know him, he’s a good guy.”

You hoped you could find out for yourself.

As you made your way up the stairs, you couldn’t stop thinking about the beautiful stranger’s face, the toned body underneath his Illyrian leathers, and the shadows that seemed to keep him constant company.

You would definitely try to find out for yourself.

[dawneternal]

now my head's splitting at the seams

✴︎ in the labyrinth of my pain, would you find me?

✴︎ Azriel x Valkyrie reader, platonic Cassian x reader

✴︎ Summary: you miss a few days of training, down with a bad migraine. It turns out Cassian has a few misconceptions about your condition and, possibly, about pain itself.

✴︎ Warnings: mentions of nausea and vomiting (no descriptions), pain, toxic positivity and ableism, internalized ableism, Cassian's a jerk in the first half. Also I'm so sorry for the tense changing back and forth 💀 I would definitely not call this one a masterpiece

✴︎ Word Count: 3.4k

AO3 Link / Writing Masterlist

✴︎ Notes: somehow writing out my feelings about having a migraine turned into something pretentious about pain and ableism. I think a lot about John Green's "pain is the opposite of language" and how much that's changed my perception of pain

Also listen I love Cassian and I have no problems with him but I had to pick someone to take my feelings out on I'm sorry 💛 also just want to acknowledge that everyone experiences migraines differently and it's not a topic I'm an expert on so I'm sorry if you don't feel well represented by this.

Tbh I could write several essays about the way pain and disability are handled in the acotar books but that's for another time.

Letting out a frustrated groan, you squeeze your eyes shut tighter and twist your knuckle into the pressure point at the base of your palm, chasing the momentary relief it'll give you from your nausea. It works for a minute, and you're considering making your way to the bathroom before another wave hits you when your bedroom door flies open.

"You're late," Cassian's voice bellows through the room and he doesn't see you wince. He strides into the room, footsteps booming across the floorboards, and he's left the door open behind him, letting a traitorous amount of light into your dark room. What good were black out curtains if your darkness was going to be invaded like this anyways?

"Oh my gods you've got to talk quieter," You curl tighter around yourself, head clutched in your hands.

"So you're hungover?" He stops near your bed, arms crossed as he towers over you.

"No, I have a migraine."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

You squint up at him, scowling, swallowing every bad word threatening to spill off your tongue. Though maybe he deserves it for coming into your room without asking.

"Please leave," You say quietly, all the venom you could usually imbue into your voice completely swallowed by your current condition.

"You've missed three days of training." He says by way of answering, definitely not following your request to lower his volume. "You can't coddle yourself like this."

His words punch the air from your lungs. Coddle? Something terrible is rising in your gut, along with the desperate thought that you can't deal with this right now.

"I'm not - this isn't - I don't think you understand how much it hurts." You scramble for words, cheeks heated from pain and anger.

"You've gotta push through it," He says, no hint of sympathy.

"Cassian please."

"I'm not leaving until you agree to come with me."

You don't have time to respond before you're running to the bathroom and throwing up whatever you'd managed to keep down last night, head throbbing with every movement.

Breathing hard, you lean back from the toilet and clutch your head in your hands. The silence rings in your ears and you aren't sure if Cassian is still there or if he finally took mercy on you and left, until his voice makes it's way to you, with just a hint of remorse in it -

"I'd better see you up there."

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Cassian did not see you at training that morning, and you're assuming you've bruised his ego because the next day he doubles down.

The thing is, Rhysand knew of your condition. The other priestesses knew. It's only Cassian being out of the loop and if he understood what a migraine felt like, you're certain he wouldn't be dragging you up there. You were used to dealing with people who didn't understand, had worked hard to learn how to give yourself kindness no matter what other people said. But it's like he knew exactly what things to say, what buttons to press to undo all of that progress.

It was like he'd pulled off your armor, piece by piece, leaving you cold and exposed. Going back to that world where weakness was your given name and it hurt worse than stepping into the ring and fighting the pain. If you could prove him wrong, just make it through a couple of hours, you could return to your sanctuary of darkness. And at least then, you wouldn't hate yourself on top of everything else.

So you followed him up to the training ring, struggling to open your eyes all the way in the morning light, hunched over to make the pain down your shoulders and neck just a bit more bearable. You sway on your feet, but Cassian either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

When he moves aside, revealing your small, huddled frame trailing beside him, Gwyn gasps.

"Cassian!" She cries, her tone scathing, and the hint of smug triumph slips from his face. It disappears completely as Gwyn rushes to your side, folding you into her arms to block your eyes from the light. You groan into her shoulder and go limp in her arms, grateful for the support.

Azriel stands to the side, watching with narrowed eyes. His arms are crossed over his chest like Cassian's, but there is no determination or judgment in his posture or expression. There's angry, crackling flames as he watches the redheaded Valkyrie thread her fingers through your hair and murmur soft comfort.

"She missed training all this week," Cassian says, but he's not barking any more. He's feeling a little bit small underneath the glares that pin him where he stands.

"Yeah, we know," Gwyn says, and it's the closest she's gotten to snapping at him in the whole time they've known each other. She turns to you and her eyes soften. "Let's get you back to bed, love."

"No," You murmur, guilt and shame bringing your resolve to the surface once more. You gently push her away to stand on your own, raising your squinted eyes to meet Cassian's. "I can do it. I'll be fine."

She watches you take shaky steps to the nearest mat and begin stretching, body obviously stiff from a few days in bed. You're conscious of all the eyes on you, far too sympathetic for your liking. This is exactly what you hated.

"Are we starting or not?" You let out a stiff laugh, too aware that your words are lightly slurred. That is absolutely not helping the hangover accusations.

The other priestesses shuffle to get into place, bumping into each other as they move to find their positions. There was still a horrible silence, crackling with fierce anger, all rippling in Cassian's direction. He halfheartedly called a few orders, visibly uncomfortable with the energy in the ring.

And you tried. You tried hard. To move your body through the stretches like normal. But your muscles protested every move, threatening to lock back up, sending stabs of pain through your skull. It didn't take long for the nausea to take over, forcing you to the edge of the ring, doubled over and dry heaving.

"This is ridiculous," Gwyn scoffs before she's at your side again. "You're going to back to bed."

"I will not be weak," You growl at her, panting as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, "I am not lazy."

Gwyn's head snaps around to find Cassian, mouth dropped open in fury as she silently dares him to confirm that he may have suggested weakness to you.

"You're not and you know it," She says softly, hauling you up and leading you away from the training ring. “Don't do that to yourself.”

Cassian is feeling like he's surrounded by wolves, all the glares that are being sent his way. He understands by now that he's messed up, and in front of a group that may not be easily inclined to forgive him. He's sure every single one of them has experienced the disbelief that he foolishly shoved your way. For their pain, or for anything else.

He thought you would snap back to your normal self after a bit of warming up, shake off your symptoms with a bit of movement and sunshine. You were strong enough to, if you wanted to. He'd seen it before. He thought you just didn't want to.

A small, firm hand lands on his arm and he finds himself looking down at Nesta. There's sympathy in her expression, but her eyes twinkle with the threat of a nasty bite if he dares to say anything stupid.

"She gets them after particularly bad flashbacks," Nesta says, "Or sometimes they're just random. Madja says there's no fix for the pain but darkness and sleep."

Cassian's stomach twists so terribly he thinks he might puke, too. In the midst of attempting to instill resilience, he's understanding that he knows nothing of this kind of pain. This is something different, something that cannot be conquered in the same way as emotional pain, as every day aches and injuries. You are a soldier in a battle he has no strategy for.

He may understand the concept of emotional resilience, of getting back up and into the training ring when you don't want to. But this is different.

The final blow, the thing that makes him want to cower and hide, is meeting his brother's eyes. Seeing the fire there transports him back in time, sending flashes of a smaller Azriel pushing himself too hard, determined to show the world that he'd never be less because of the damage to his hands. Fighting against words far too similar to the ones his own brother had spouted to you this morning, desperate to become strong enough that no one would ever doubt his pain and live.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

It was not a surprise that Cassian found himself in Rhysand's office later, confessing how thoroughly he'd fucked up, desperate for a little direction in how to fix this mess.

"It has to be their choice," Rhysand is saying, eyes meeting Cassian's over his glass.

Cassian's mouth opens and closes as he tries to conjure a response. He knows that. Of course he knows that. But apparently, his brain had not wrapped around how far that concept might go.

Cassian let out a grunt as he sat back in his chair, arms crossed. Rhysand knew he didn't have to push any further, he recognized the conflict in his brother's eyes. So he sat with him, quiet, while he processed.

"Do you want to know what it feels like?" He broke the since after a while, as the idea came to him.

"What?" Cassian blinked, startled from his thoughts.

"A migraine," Rhys explained, "Do you want to know what it feels like?"

Cassian frowned, studying his brother's expression for anything resembling amusement, but there was none. So he nods.

Not even a full second later, his skull is attacked with throbbing pain, deep in the base of his neck. He hadn't even noticed the fae lights before, but now they overwhelm him, causing a dull pain to surface behind his eyes. Nausea curled up his throat, threatening ruthlessly.

"Oh gods," He leaned forward and clutched his head in his hands, finding that his limbs trembled under his own weight.

"Do you push yourself when you feel like this?" Rhysand asked softly, not taunting. Prompting.

"I don't really ever feel like this," Cassian grumbled out.

"Hm," Rhysand mused, his brows drawing together. He'd experienced episodes like these often, under the mountain. He knew that Azriel struggled with them through his teenage years, like his brain still struggled to process his senses outside of a dark cell.

Deep in thought, he only remembered to ease up on Cassian's mind when his brother whimpered.

"Some say pain cannot truly be described with language," Rhys says, gaze somewhere else as Cassian gulps down air. "And that your pain is one of the few things that is truly yours, that you can never share. Even if you manage to describe it, it will never be felt by anyone else."

"I thought she was just hungover," Cassian says, but he's not defending himself. Rhysand knows.

"What if she was, though?" He tilts his head to the side, watching his brother carefully.

And that is the thing that had begun to unfurl within Cassian as he stood surrounded by the priestesses he'd wronged. He understood that having true control of your body meant that dictating how pain is handled had to be yours, too. He understood that pushing someone to deal with pain in his own way was a violation in and of itself. He had stepped into the world that you had carefully balanced and re-built around your condition and dared to tell you that you may have done it wrong.

"Will she get better?" He asks, thinking of the agony he'd just experienced for a few short minutes. The same one that you'd been experiencing for three days, now.

"It's hard to say," Rhysand shrugs, "Madja says she will likely experience these off and on for the rest of her life, but she may have some periods of remission."

He tilts his head at his brother again, "You know that a majority of the priestesses have an invisible disability of similar kinds, right? They won't get better. They will be in pain every day until they die."

Rhysand sighs, thinking of the hundreds - possibly thousands - of tins of salve that Azriel has gone through, numbing the pain of his nerve damage. Trembling hands hidden in black gloves, tucked into his body and away from the world. And that is the reason he's bothering telling Cassian of any of this. Otherwise, he might let him figure it out on his own.

"But the healers-" Cassian begins.

"Are there to help them cope with their emotional pain and trauma," Rhysand nods, "But some of them, a lot of them, were disabled as a result of what they went through and will never get better. Like Clotho.”

Oh.

It clicks in Cassian's mind, then. Who else Rhys meant. Who else Cassian had insulted. He had never barged into Azriel's room, insisting that he still train even when he could not flex his fingers without wincing, without trembling too hard to hold a glass of water. But he'd done it to you, in front of him. And that pinned his disbelief on Azriel all the same.

Azriel's pain, your pain, were enemies that neither of you could defeat. And here he was, shoving a sword into your hands, and insisting that you try.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

A soft knock sounds against your door, so quiet you almost don't hear it. You stare at it, wondering if you should pretend that you didn't. But then the knob turns slowly and it opens just a crack, and a soft voice is saying into the darkness,

"Hey, it's Azriel. Can I come in?"

Your breath catches in your throat, and you watch his shadows dancing back and forth through the thin wedge of light he's letting in.

"Sure," You say, moving quickly to smooth your rumpled clothes and tangled hair before he steps in. You're not exactly sure what he thinks of you after this morning.

He steps inside and closes the door behind him. His eyes seem to glow in the darkness, an amber-honey color, and somehow you can still see his shadows, like they're even darker than your room with no light.

"I just wanted to check on you," He says, crouching down beside your bed so you don't have to sit up.

"I'm okay," You say, still getting over the surprise of the Shadowsinger in your space. It's true, though, you suppose. You're used to all of your other symptoms by now, and your heart hurts worse than your head.

"He's an idiot sometimes," Azriel says, basically spits. A smile begins to spread on your face so he continues, “Like, sometimes he's just an asshole, straight up. But this time, believe it or not, I think he actually meant well and was just an idiot.”

“I know,” You give him a sad smile and all of the anger melts from his face.

“I think he went to buy flowers if that makes you feel any better,” He sighs. You know he's just as mad at Cassian as you are, maybe even more mad. But he still can't help vouching for him. It's definitely going to take more than flowers to forgive him, but it's a good start. You also appreciate that Azriel has bothered to warn you ahead of time, in case you wanted to avoid Cassian's apology.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, so quietly. And you wonder who else has earned this tenderness from him.

“It's not too bad right now,” you say truthfully, though you know that sitting up or going outside might be pushing your luck.

“Still hurts?”

“Yeah. Still hurts.”

He nods. “I can try something that helps me, sometimes.”

You search his eyes for a moment, then nod.

“Can I touch your face?” He asks, almost a whisper.

Your heart leaps into your throat and you fight to keep your face neutral as you nod again, no idea what he's planning to do with you.

Slowly, leaving enough time for you to stop him, he reaches out. He's not wearing gloves, like usual, and in the dark you can just barely make out the uneven silhouette of his dimpled, scarred hands.

His fingers land gently on your forehead, and he presses his thumb between your brows. Gently at first, and then harder, circling a tender point under your skin. It makes the pain in your head sharper, and you let out a hiss.

“I know,” He says, “Bear with me a minute.”

You close your eyes, biting back a whimper, but after a moment the pain begins to ease. He keeps going for a few minutes and you feel your whole body relax, pain free for the first time in days.

You don't realize how much you've leaned into his touch until he gently pulls away and you find your head falling forward with him.

“What is that?” You open your eyes and blink at him.

“A pressure point,” He grins, and it almost looks like he's blushing.

“That's magical,” you say. You hesitate for a moment, and then, “you can sit on the bed if you want.”

Azriel smiles and straightens, and you move your pillow to the side to make space for him. He slides off his boots and sits on the bed next to you, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. You place your pillow next to his lap and settle back into it.

“Thank you,” You say, your body feeling lighter than it has in days.

“Of course,” he says.

A silence settles, but it's not uncomfortable. There's something in it that you understand. He's just keeping you company. Here to sit with you in your pain.

It's easy to relax in his presence, between his calm aura and the pain relief he's offered you. And you find yourself spilling the question that's been circling though your mind since this morning.

“What if I can't fight, someday? What if I can't be a Valkyrie anymore?”

Azriel stills beside you. It's a long moment before he says anything. You're tense beside him, and it makes you flinch when he brings his hand so gently to rest on your head. Not moving, just resting.

“First,” He says, in the same soft voice, “You'll always be a Valkyrie. Because you cut the ribbon. Because you sisters will never let you go. And because I know for a fact that the Valkyries did not strip their warriors of their title if they became disabled by an illness or an injury.”

“Really?” You breathe.

“Mhm,” He hums in affirmation. You forget sometimes that he knows the Valkyries from more than history books.

“And second,” His voice drops lower, like he's sharing a secret with you. His hand moves, fingers slipping gingerly through your hair. And it makes you realize that he came here with his hands uncovered as an offer of solidarity. Combing his scarred fingers through your hair, he is offering you vulnerability, like recompense for what you bared this morning. A trade. A truce.

“If you cannot fight,” He continues, “Then you will show the world that a formidable woman can be made from more than fighting skills. You will still be - will always be - something incredible.”

Tears prickle at your eyes, form a lump in your throat. You reach up to grasp his hand, the only thank you that you can manage in the moment, and he lets you.

There's another silence, as he holds your hand in the dark.

“Who helps you?” You ask, turning to look up at him. He watches your eyebrows knit together, so serious, and he swallows a smile.

“What do you mean?” He says.

You bring one finger up to tap the space between his own eyebrows.

“With your pain? Who helps you like you helped me?”

“Um,” He shrugs, “Sometimes Rhys if he has time. Otherwise, no one.”

That's what you thought, but it still makes your heart twist in your chest. It takes a deep breath before you have the courage to say the next words out loud.

“You should tell me next time you're in pain. And I'll help.”

Azriel stares back at you, something bewildered in his eyes. Because he sees your suggestion for what it is. The same thing he offered you. A trade. A truce.

A beginning.

“Yes,” He whispers into the dark, and his hand closes around yours. “I will.”

[serpentandlily]

Butterfly Fly Away

Butterfly Fly Away - Platonic!Reader x BatBoys

Summary: You’ve been bestfriends with Rhys, Cassian and Azriel since childhood but with the new additions to your Inner Circle, it's starting to feel like you are being replaced. When confronted, your three friends brush off your concerns, leading you to believe it’s time to move on and start a life of your own. But once you’re gone, the three brothers begin to realize just how much they need you in their lives. 

Based on this request.

Warnings: A mix of angst and fluff. 

❀⊱♡⊰❀

Butterfly Fly Away

❀⊱♡⊰❀

You let out a long shaky breath, sitting on the edge of your bed, looking around your now empty room in the Townhouse. You had packed up everything. Your clothes, your trinkets, the parchments full of scribbles from Nyx, the painting Feyre had gifted you of the whole family together. All of it.

Your chest felt hollow. The silence and emptiness was deafening. So many memories were made in this room, down these halls, in this city. The thought of leaving that all behind made your heart ache but the thought of staying here hurt worse. 

You had met Rhysand, Azriel and Cassian during your youth and struck a friendship with them. A friendship that had grown and grown into what felt like an impenetrable bond between the three of you. 

And they had always stressed how much importance you had within the family. The peacemaker, the mediator, the one who could end fights between them before they even began. Your magic was able to read the emotions of others, making you adept at talking others through their own feelings—of helping them understand why they felt the way they did. 

It was really the only thing you were good for. You weren’t a skilled fighter, or strategist, or politician. All weakness you hated considering your family was made of the most powerful fae.

But when it came to matters of the heart? Well, you were an expert. For everyone else anyways, considering yours was currently being torn apart. 

You had been there for each of them during the best and worst of days. Through the war, through Rhysand losing his family, through the forty-nine years without him. The four of you with Mor and Amren included had built a small family together. 

A family that was no longer around because they had all found another. And you had been left with none. 

Slowly but surely they had completely erased your spot in the family with the Archeron sisters. It wasn’t even that you didn’t like the three sisters. Each of them had a special place in your heart. But they changed the dynamic of the group so drastically. 

And you no longer felt like you belonged. 

Mor had felt it too, which was why she was more than happy to be sent to the continent to work on alliances there. Amren had found herself a lover and seemed content with keeping him all to herself. 

But you…you had nothing without them. Or at least, that’s what it felt like. 

You had tried to bring it up with them, had tried to hint that you felt a bit left out and neglected. But they had brushed you off, telling you it was time you “found a life of your own like they had.” You thought you did have a life of your own already. Here. But apparently that was not the case. 

You let out another sigh as you stared at the last three things you had to pack. You picked up the first one, a smooth rock—a red creek jasper. You still remembered the day Azriel had given it to you when you both were only eleven. 

❀⊱♡⊰❀

“You can do it, Az!” you shouted. 

You were standing underneath a very large boulder, holding a hand over your eyes as the sun shone down on you and Rhys. Cassian and Azriel were both on top of the boulder, wings spread wide as Cassian tried to direct Azriel on how to fly. 

Azriel’s face was nearly white and you could tell even from where you were standing that his hands were shaking. You took a few steps closer to the rock, holding your little arms out. 

“I’ll catch you if you fall,” you yelled up to him. “I promise!”

It was at that moment that Cassian decided he was over waiting for Azriel to jump and pushed the boy off the rock instead. Azriel shrieked, a sound he had never made before, and frantically tried to pump his wings but it was no use. He crashed right into you, sending you both sprawling on the ground.

“Y/n,” he gasped, rolling off of you. “Are you okay?” 

His eyes were wide with both shock and concern. They only widen more when you burst out laughing, clutching your stomach. It hurt, a lot. You were both eleven but Azriel was already bigger than you. 

“I told you I’d catch you!” The look on his normally unreadable face sent you into another fit of giggles. 

Later that day, Azriel had gone to the nearby creek and dug around for hours looking for the perfect rock to give you, knowing you liked collecting the cool ones you found. He had apologized numerous times, even though it had been Cassian’s fault, but he still felt guilty. He finally stumbled on a tiny, smooth rock that was a mixture of dark orange and red swirls.

When he came home that night and offered it to you as another apology, Cassian and Rhys had laughed themselves nearly sick but you had just smiled at the shy boy and squeezed the rock in your hand, holding against your chest. 

❀⊱♡⊰❀

It was the first gift Azriel had given you and it had stayed with you all these years. 

You wrapped it back in the silk handkerchief you kept it in and placed it in your bag. 

Your eyes moved to the next item. A scarf made from various scraps of fabric. Definitely not fashionable, but it had been a special gift from Rhysand.

❀⊱♡⊰❀

“Why do you carry that old blanket around with you still?” The thirteen year-old Rhys was peering at the dirty blanket in your hand with a sneer. “We’re not babies anymore, y/n. You should get rid of it.” 

You pulled the blanket closer to you—a blanket made up of random scraps of fabric, the only thing your mother could afford at the time. It was ratty, falling apart at the seams, but it was special to you. 

“It’s the only thing I have left of her,” you said, quietly, blinking away the tears that started forming in your eyes. 

Your mother had passed away years ago and your father, who had never loved her in the first place, had tossed out all her belongings. You had only managed to get your hands on the blanket before it was taken away.   

Rhys had said nothing else about it until winter solstice came around that year. You hadn’t noticed that he had snuck into your room and taken the blanket—bringing it to his mother to make into something a little better for you to carry around with you. 

❀⊱♡⊰❀

He had given you the scarf that night and every single snowfall, it was the first one you pulled out. You packed it away with a heavy heart. You were moving to the Day Court, something you had already discussed with the Inner Circle, and you would hardly have use for it there. 

The last item sat on your dresser, a white, stuffed pegasus toy—a gift from Cassian. 

❀⊱♡⊰❀

A knock sounded on your door but you ignored it, rolling over in your bed and wiping your tears.

Another knock.

“Y/n! Open up! I know you’re in there,” Cassian shouted through the door.

“Go away, Cass,” you managed to croak out through your tears. “I’m not in the mood.”

There was a pause before he shouted through the door again.

“What’s wrong, y/n? I can tell you’re crying!”

“Nothing, just go away!”

The door burst open and you shot up in your bed, cursing at yourself for not making sure it was locked. Cassian walked into your room, his eyes widening as he took in your appearance. 

“Y/n?” He asked, quietly, shutting the door behind him. “Why are you crying? What happened?”

A tiny sob broke through your lips and Cassian was at your side instantly, wrapping an arm around you. You both were only sixteen, but Cassian was already starting to look more like a male than a boy with how big he was getting. 

“Cyrus b-broke up with me,” you choked out. 

“Oh thank the gods!”

You glared up at Cassian, shoving him away from you.

“Get out if you’re going to be like that.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, y/n, I just mean… Well, we all think you’re too good for him, you know. He’s an asshole.”

More tears poured from your eyes and Cassian pulled you to his chest again. “I am really sorry, y/n. I know how much you liked him.”

Cassian had stayed with you that night, holding you until you cried yourself to sleep. When you woke up the next day, a tiny stuffed Pegasus was waiting on your nightstand with a note attached to it.

‘I hope this little guy helps you feel better. But if you need to let off some steam, come find me in the training ring—Cassian.’

❀⊱♡⊰❀

You hugged the pegasus to your chest for a moment before dropping it into your bag with the last of your stuff. 

You were supposed to leave in the morning after a goodbye breakfast with the whole family, but the trip down memory lane had you feeling too upset.

You didn’t know if you could handle seeing them all, especially when they seemed to have no qualms about you leaving. 

Cassian didn’t need a secondary sparring partner to Azriel anymore now that he had Nesta. Rhys didn’t need help reading through correspondence now that he had Feyre. And those serene walks through the woods with Azriel? Well, those went to Elain now. 

You pulled out the copy of keys you had for the Townhouse and River House and set them down on the dresser in the room. You took one last look around, your heart breaking in your chest, before finally winnowing away.

❀⊱♡⊰❀

“This alliance with Vallahan could go two ways,” Rhys said, stroking his jaw. “They fight with us against Koschei and end this whole thing before it becomes a full blown war. Or they’re faking their support and have already sided with Koschei.”

“If they are, the results of that will be devastating,” Mor said with a frown. “Our armies are still so depleted and even with the help of the other courts minus Autumn, Koschei has triple our numbers if Vallahan has already sided with him.” 

Cassian let out a low whistle as he stared over the battle plans. “We’d be fucked. Utterly fucked.”

“We can’t win in that scenario,” Azriel piped up from next to Cassian.

“We can’t win without their help either,” Feyre said. “This decision is everything. Everything relies on this decision. You really couldn’t get a read on them, Mor?” 

Mor shook her head. “They were careful with their wording and vague. They were certainly speaking the truth, but it meant little.”

“Their mental defenses were too strong to get through without force. But if they are being honest and I break into their minds, we might as well kiss the alliance goodbye,” Rhys sighed. “If only there was another way to get a read on them. I hate going into this blind with only our own faith.” 

The room was silent as they all pondered what this meant for the battle against Koschei. 

“There is…someone who could help.”

Everyone’s head whipped towards Cassian. Rhysand waved a hand at him to continue. Cassian swallowed audibly.

“Y/n.”

That name had everyone sitting up straight. Rhysand raised an eyebrow at him, not understanding. Not until it clicked in his head.

“She can read people’s emotions,” he breathed out. “I… I never thought about her using it this way. I just thought it was good for—well, you know.”

“Just meddling?”

Rhys nodded, feeling a bit ashamed. The room went quiet again, everyone soaking in what Cassian was suggesting.

“Would she even help? You all basically ran her out of this court,” Mor huffed, causing tensions to rise. 

“Not this again,” Cassian groaned.

Mor stood from her seat, bristling at Cassian’s words. “I’m being serious. She has been your guys’ friend since you were kids. And you all left her in the dust even after she tried to tell you guys how she felt!”

When Mor had returned from the continent and learned of you leaving the court, she had been beyond angry at the three males for their treatment of you. She had written you several letters apologizing and you had welcomed her back into your life. 

But she was the only one you still talked to. 

The room was dead quiet. Each of the three males shared looks of guilt and embarrassment because Mor was right. They had completely taken you for granted and cast you aside once the sisters started having bigger roles in their life. And they had let you go without even trying to convince you to stay. 

“I miss her.”

Azriel’s voice was so quiet, like he hadn’t even meant to say those words out loud. 

Cassian let out a long sigh. “I miss her too.”

Mor glanced around at the other members of the Inner Circle before gesturing towards the door. “I think the boys need to discuss this amongst themselves.” 

Once the door shut behind Feyre, Rhys leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “I hadn’t realized how much of an impact she had. Things haven’t felt right here without her.” 

“No, they haven’t,” Cassian agreed. “We really did kind of… forget about her. Not intentionally but still.” 

“Have you talked to her?” Azriel asked, looking at his High Lord.

“Have you?”

Azriel looked away in answer, feeling a bit of guilt. 

“Do you think she’s still in the Day Court?” Cassian asked. 

Rhys nodded. “Yes, Helion is quite fond of her it seems.” 

Cassian snickered while a ghost of a grin crossed Azriel’s face. It wasn’t hard to imagine you in Day. You had always been a beacon of light for the group and they knew how easily you made friends wherever you went. It came naturally to you as an empath. 

“Do you think…” Cassian trailed off, sounding a bit insecure. “Do you think she’d come home? If we asked?” 

“She didn’t even say goodbye before she left,” Azriel murmured. 

“We can try but I think we should be honest with her about our feelings,” Rhys said. “I’d hate for her to think we’re just asking her back so she can help us with this.” 

“She’s going to know how we’re feeling anyways,” Cassian laughed. “Remember?”

Rhys grinned, thinking of all the times you had caught them in blatant lies because of your abilities, all the times you meddled with their love lives and friendships too. 

There really was a you-shaped hole in the group now. The three shared a look of guilt. It was a shame it took this long for them to realize it. 

❀⊱♡⊰❀

Three knocks against the door of your small cottage woke you up. You groaned, sitting up and blinking the sleep from your eyes. You had gone to one of Helion’s illustrious parties last night and had not been expecting to be woken up this early.

You shrugged on a silk robe over your nightgown and made your way to your front door.

Your eyes widened in shock as soon as you opened it, staring at the three males you hadn’t seen in a little over a year. You stepped aside, wordlessly, letting them into your new home. The distance had not made the bond between the four of you shrink, even after all this time, it seemed.

They greeted you in their own ways. Azriel with a soft smile, Cassian with a booming hello and hug, and Rhys was a feline grin and pat on the shoulder. You strode to the kitchen as they took a seat in your living room.

“I need coffee,” you announced. “Anyone else?”

“Long night?” Cassian teased.

“Don’t even ask,” you joked back, pulling out four mugs as they all said yes to your offer.

It was silent while the coffee brewed, and their emotions were all over the place. Nervousness, guilt, hope and regret. Your eyebrows furrowed as you grabbed the mugs and set them on the coffee table, taking a seat on an armchair.

“No offense,” you started. “But why are you guys here? I haven’t spoken to any of you in over a year.”

“That’s kind of what we’re here about,” Rhys replied, rubbing the back of his neck.

You raised an eyebrow at them, taking a sip of your coffee.

“I’ll get straight to the point,” he continued. “We…We want you to come home.”

You nearly spit your coffee out. That was not what you were expecting him to say. After all, they didn’t seem very upset when you told them you were leaving the Night Court in the first place.

“Why?” you managed to choke out.

“I’ll be honest. We’re dealing with a situation back home and it made us realize how much of an importance you played, not just in our court but in our lives. We miss you, y/n. We regret how we treated you the past few years.”

“We all just got so caught up in our own problems, we didn’t even realize how much we were neglecting you,” Cassian added with a sincere frown. “You were such a constant in our lives and I guess we sort of took that for granted, assuming you’d always be there.”

“I tried to tell you how I felt,” you murmured, hiding half your face behind your coffee mug.

“I’m sorry for brushing you off,” Azriel said, quietly. “Truly. A lot was happening and like Cassian said, I just figured once we got through it all, things could resume as normal.”

“So why have none of you written to me in the year I’ve been gone?”

“After you left, Mor kind of chewed us out,” Cassian said, sheepishly. “We all just assumed you were mad at us and left because you needed space. I know it’s not a good excuse but well, you know more than anyone that we’ve never been great at communicating.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. That was the reason you meddled so much. To get them to talk about their feelings, express themselves. It was hard staying quiet when you knew how a person truly felt.

“We miss you and we need you, y/n,” Rhys cut in. “Things haven’t been the same since you left. I’m sorry it took so long for us to realize and I’m sorry for how we treated you. You’re our best friend, our sister. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“Me either.” Both Azriel and Cassian interjected.

You thought about it, thought of the year you spent without them. While you had started anew, made new friends, had lovers, you did miss them dearly. It made you realize something about the bond you all shared, about your friendship in general. Life changes and sometimes people get preoccupied with other things but that bond you felt hadn’t shrunk, hadn’t grown any weaker. It was still the same as it had been the day you left.

They would always be your best friends, your brothers by name.

And their feelings were genuine. You of all people would know.

“Please come home,” Cassian begged. “I need you--we all need you.”

This house was not a home without the people you cared about. As much as you loved the Day Court, it wasn’t the same. Not without all the memories tied to it. And perhaps this had just made your friendship with them stronger, made you all realize how much you needed each other despite now having more priorities in your lives. You couldn’t fault them for finding love, for building families.

The three of them were nearly holding their breath with anticipation, waiting for your answer. A smile broke out on your face and their shoulders dropped.

“Okay,” you finally said. “I’ll come home. But I’m keeping this as my vacation house and you all owe me a years’ worth of mooncakes when we get home.”

Laughter filled the tiny cottage as they eagerly agreed to your terms. A new warmth spread in your chest. You were finally going home back to your true family. 

❀⊱♡⊰❀

[sapphicmsmarvel]

the night courts justice

pairing: platonic!rhysand x reader

summary: rhysand learns your past traumas are more alike than he assumed.

Tw: MASSIVE trigger warning for r*pe being mentioned. Graphic, graphic violence. Feminine rage, unhinged female rage. Unhinged. 

Would like to preface: this is a work of fiction, uh, yeah. 

I know people write more detailed shit than I did however, I just wanted to give the violence disclaimer bc this is the most violent thing i've ever written (i usually just write fluff!)

Happy reading to my unhinged vengeful girlypops <3 

After you turned, you got bad. You had always struggled with depression, however the fae transformation increased that feeling. 

Rhysand noticed first because you were showing the signs that he did after under the mountain.

“You’re taking care of them, so they’ll be okay when you leave.”  He had approached you on the balcony.

You weren’t an idiot. “Sometimes, I do wonder what would happen if I just…” You waved your hands around. “Ceased.” 

“You wouldn’t see Feyre again.” His voice cracked. “She was what was keeping me from…ending it after I got back.” 

“I don’t know the extent of what happened to you.” You began, “but I can fill in the blanks.” 

“How so?” “From one rape victim to another, I can see the signs.” You simply stated.

It was silent and then, “Feyre found me that night.”  Your voice was a whisper in the wind.

He paused, he could feel the sorrow radiating off of you. You swallowed, “she found me abandoned in the woods, that’s where I was taken. At the time, we had no idea who it was, or where he was from. It was close to the wall. Hence how she found me. I had been there since the previous night. Missing for almost a whole day plus a night. She was hunting at night so people wouldn't get greedy when they saw her with prey. She brought me back to the cottage, her dad was asleep, Nesta woke up because I couldn’t get up the steps and she heard a bang.” You sucked in a deep breath, “I couldn’t get up the steps because….he had hurt me too badly.” He put a hand on your shoulder, he wasn’t one for physical affection like this with someone he barely knew, but he knew you needed it.

You didn’t push him away. 

“Fey and Nesta got me up the steps, it was the first time I had seen the two of them work as a team. They got me in the bath, cleaned up the blood that was staining my legs, my…everything.” 

He tried to keep his rage contained, however it was hard, you felt the air turn denser. 

“I appreciate the sentiment, Rhysand.” You laughed bitterly. “It’s over and done with.” 

“Do you want revenge?” 

You sighed, “Yes, which makes me terrible-”

“No it does not.” He hissed.

You shrugged, “it doesn’t matter.” 

After a brief silence he asked, “You said, at the time. Who was it?” 

“He was from the Spring Court. Not Tamlin or Lucien. Or the guy that Fey killed. But now that I am here, and I have the heightened senses. I recognize the different courts, it’s the smell. He smelled like the Spring Court.” 

“Can I see what he looked like?” Rhysand asked. 

You nodded and let him into your mind.

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

During the war, it had completely slipped your mind that you had told Rhys about these things. Or rather showed him the face. Feyre had come back and then you were off fighting a war. Not too much time to dwell on things. 

But, one day you were called to “the torture chamber” as you called it, however Azriel disapproved even though he also agreed. He just didn’t like how blunt you were about it. 

“What is this?” You asked. 

That’s when you could smell it. The smell of dandelions and dewy grass. The smell that had haunted your nightmares long before Hybern had. You saw him tied to a chair, beaten and bloody, his mouth had a gag stuffed in it. Azriel was behind him, Rhysand off to the side and Feyre was behind you, she had come with you. But based off the look on her face, she knew all along. 

“You can either kill him or I will.” 

“Doesn’t this look bad, High Lord?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow. “If this gets out…” 

“Oh it can, I don’t particularly care, let them know I don’t tolerate anyone being raped, let alone someone in my court. Let Tamlin come and try to defend this.” 

“He’s an asshole, but he never raped me.” Feyre walked up and put a sword in your hands. “Gut him like a fish.” 

You took the sword, ready. You looked at him as he wept. “Do you remember me?” 

Silence. 

You lifted his head with the tip of the sword, drawing blood that trickled down the metal. 

Gods, nothing has ever looked so fun. 

“I said, do you remember me?” You asked in an innocent voice. 

He shook his head, screaming around the gag. 

You widened your eyes, mockingly, “you know I screamed that night too.” 

HIs eyes widened, you didn’t know if he was recognizing your scent, or if he had done this to multiple people and he’s trying to figure out which one you were. “You went across the wall, found an innocent sixteen year old girl. A child. You took me out there and you raped me. And then at the end, when I was crying into the dirt, begging for the Mother to put me to sleep so I would stop hurting; do you remember what you said?” You asked. 

He didn’t answer, so you shoved the blade in deeper, causing a bigger waterfall the color of revenge to cascade down the blade. “I asked a question.”

He shook his head. 

You let a cruel smile slip. “You said that with the way I was acting, I had it coming.” You laughed and his eyes widened. “And now, you’ll see what you’ve had coming all these years.” 

With that you moved the sword. He let out a breath, but then saw you go to the table and grab pliers. 

“How many people?” You asked starting with his finger, that’s when you saw the wedding ring. You laughed coldly. “What poor person did you trap?” 

He glared, you smiled and took the pliers and pulled off a fingernail. He screamed around his gag and it was music to you. “I ask again, how many?” 

He kept screaming, so you kept pulling. 

Once you started on the other hand, that’s when he stopped screaming and began nodding. “You’ll tell me?” You asked. 

He nodded so you removed the gag. “Nine.” 

You let out a laugh through your nose. Not a genuine one of course, but one that showed you were about to become even more angry. “Do you remember their faces?” 

He nodded and you looked at Rhysand, “if you’d ever be so kind. I want to pay them a visit.” 

To let them know their monster is dead, and he did not die a slow death. 

Rhysand nodded to let you know, he intruded the male's mind and then left the room with Feyre. 

He would show her their faces, she would draw from memory. Then you would find them to give them peace that he was dead. 

Only Azriel was left in the cell.

Then you smiled again, a twisted and evil one, “and now our fun begins.” 

That’s when you smelled the urine. 

And your smile grew bigger. 

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

The male was later found staked to a rock by the wall. An ice pick through his forehead and his hands, pinning him to the old stone. The word “rapist” was carved into his naked chest. All fingers were broken and nine teeth were pulled out of his mouth. 

Then a letter was sent to eight houses, explaining that their monster was dead and if they chose to, they could see what became of him by going to a certain spot. 

All eight showed up. 

Well nine but no one could see her. No one could see her or the High Lord of Night Court watching. 

“You feel better?” 

You sighed, “murder is bad, however I can rest easy knowing he’s dead.” 

“Yeah, you definitely know he is.” 

You snorted, “I may have had a bit of fun.”

“He definitely deserved it, the thing with his penis though was twisted.” 

You laughed outright at that. “That was Azriel’s touch.” 

Rhysand shuddered, “once again the guy deserved it, but Gods, you filet’d that thing.” 

“They’ll find it in the autopsy.” You shrugged, sipping your hot chocolate, that fought off the cold Sunday morning. 

He lifted his cup over for a cheers and you clinked, and both of you took a sip. “We’re fucked in the head aren’t we?” You said. 

He nodded, “Oh we definitely are. At least we’re surrounded by other fucked individuals.” 

“Cheers to that.” 

And once again you clinked mugs. 

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

The next day you were called into the Feyre and Rhysand’s office, part of you wondered if it meant that the mortals had connected the murder of the Night Court and now you’d have to pay for what you’d done. 

But when you walked in, Feyre was smiling genuinely. 

Rhysand gave her a loving look, “could you at least pretend it’s something bad just to mess with her?” He drawled teasingly. 

“She’s my best friend, she’d know I was lying.” Feyre responded as if Rhysand was dumb. 

Could confirm, you would know. 

“I thought I was your best friend.” Rhysand put a hand to his chest as if he was offended but you both could tell he was not. 

You and Feyre shared a look and rolled your eyes in unison. 

“Can I just know what’s going on?” You asked. 

“We want you to be the Night Court’s Justice.” “...Isn’t that what Azriel is for?” 

“Azriel is for collecting information on enemies. You will basically be an assassin for us.” Rhysand explained. “If you so desire.” 

“Who would I go after?” 

“Anybody that poses a threat to my family.” His eyes flashed with anger. “Someone hurts anyone, including you. Then you have our full permission to slit their throats.” He said. “Obviously, we’d give you assignments. When you don’t have assignments you’d be working alongside Azriel.”

You nodded and then went, “fuck it. Okay.” 

“You don’t want to think about it?” Feyre asked. 

“If I’m taking out people that are like the bastard I just killed, then I will do it. Rapists deserve nothing else.” 

Rhysand smirked, “welcome to the court.”

[everythingacotarbxm1012]

Do That Again

Summary - You meet a certain fellow after your roommate starts dating some guy.

Content Warnings - Language, heavy drinking, characters getting drunk, underaged drinking (please tell me if I missed anything)

A/N - I wrote this mostly because there are definitely a lack of Cassian x Reader fics out there and as much as I love Cass and Nesta, this felt necessary. *Do not repost my work without my express permission.* *Do not copy my work.*

1k words

✨ 💫

You and Cassian. Cassian and you. Attached at the hip in every sense of the phrase. If someone was looking for one of you, they’d find the other. The only time you weren’t together is if you didn’t have a class together or if one of you was going to the bathroom and even then if one of you was drunk enough… you might be in a close proximity.

You met Cassian through your friend and roommate, Feyre. Feyre, after a shitty high school boyfriend, met Rhysand at a party. Rhys was… well he was something. It was one of those situations where someone falls first and the other falls harder. Feyre fell hard. Like inches of cement hard. You’d be grinning with smug intent while Feyre’s face was absolutely red after getting back from an evening out with Rhys. Somewhere in the madness of first year the two crazy kids finally were official. You ensured you would meet him before summer break. You did. 

As Feyre’s friend, and body-guard , you were of course critical of the man. He certainly had an ego. But below it all he felt right for your friend. He treated her like an individual, a partner—not a possession. The same night you met Cassian at a party. Admittedly you were a little drunk. Okay, you were more than a little drunk. Okay, fine! You were very drunk. Like hookup-with-your-friend drunk. Thankfully he was drunk too, less drunk, but still drunk. Somewhere between the drinks, bad music, and watching Feyre and Rhys be sickeningly smitten with each other you and Cassian found a connection. It was like in kindergarten when your eyes land on any random person in the room and think, you’re cool and we’re friends now. 

You woke up the following morning with a hang-over on a couch to Feyre and Rhys stifling laughter. Your friend informed you it was the suite Rhysand and his friends shared on campus. How a group of first-years got that was beyond you, but you didn’t complain. You were still wearing your clothes and thanked the heavens you saw no vomit either. You managed yourself awake to see Cassian sprawled on the floor. You met Azriel that morning. 

“For the headache,” he said, as he offered you a glass of water and Aspirin. 

The three of you suffered while Feyre and Rhys remained wrapped up in each other all morning. 

The connection with Cassian only grew faster. You kept in contact over the summer, both constantly joking about the disgust you felt for the budding relationship between your friends. In truth you both were happy for Rhys and Feyre. Upon your return for your Sophomore year of university, the friendship solidified itself. You were constantly together. Staying up late to get work done, eating, studying, getting stupid drunk at parties. Despite the humor and jokes, you also found a deep comfort from each other. 

Cassian adored physical contact, which was perfect because you did too. Something you discovered when you woke up on the couch in the suite to your dear friend have a nightmare. 

“Just a nightmare, Cass. Just a nightmare,” you reassured him. He had clung to you, falling back asleep soon after. 

By the end of Sophomore year, you were literally inseparable, constantly draping over the other whenever you hung out as a group. A group you drunkenly named, Rhysand’s IC , because he was constantly parenting the rest of you alongside Feyre. IC standing for Idiot Children . 

One particularly very early morning, around 1am, you and Cass were draped over each other on the couch in the suite. The conversation topic was stupid things you did as children, and Cassian was letting out a particularly loud laugh when a cold-faced looking Az stepped out of his room, asking you to “pipe down”. 

Your junior year, Cassian managed a suite that could fit you and Feyre and you all lived together. Often times the night would end with Feyre and Rhys finding themselves together with you and Cassian sitting together having a drink while you braided Cass’s shoulder-length hair, talking about trivial matters. 

Your final year, Feyre and Rhys chose to live off campus because they wanted a place to themselves leaving you, Cass, and Az to fend for yourselves. Az wound up with a single while you and Cassian chose to share a room to be closer to the center of campus. Azriel was a floor above you. You spent night after together, sitting in the corner of your room, watching a movie together, or talking, or sitting in silence enjoying the other’s company. In hindsight it was crazy how quickly college had gone by. 

Cassian had become your dearest friend through it all. His humor you adored, but it was his caring and passionate nature which had you feeling more deeply for him. And suddenly you were stumbling back from an We’re Almost Graduated party Rhys and Feyre hosted.

✨💫

“There’s a spider on your shoulder!!” You shout as you stumble into your dorm room with Cass. You cackle as Cass squeals, squeezing his eyes shut. 

You step forward to flick the spider off his shoulder and he screams making you laugh and nearly keel over. He catches you before you do, a hand landing on your hip. An electric buzz bolts through you. For all the times you’d been in contact this felt different. Maybe it’s the alcohol, the fact that his hand has never been on your hip before, or the the excitement of graduation. 

“Cass?” You ask him, his hand still resting against your hip. Your breath hitches in your throat.

“Y/N?” His question is met with a moment of silence. And then suddenly Cassian’s hands are cupping your cheeks and he’s kissing you. 

Your eyes flutter shut before he’s pulling away. The kiss somehow intoxicating and sobering. There’s a stupid grin on your best friends face. “You know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

He’s met with silence for a while. You are unable to move. Finally you manage words. “Do that again.”

There is a mild question in his eyes. 

“Do that again,” you repeat. 

Cassian doesn’t need to be told a third time.

[hb-writes]

Distracted

Summary: When the charming and highly frustrating High Lord returns to Velaris, Rhys takes over training with the Inner Circle's ward, Serenyth "Sera" (OC), something which Sera has a love-hate relationship with.

Characters: Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel & Serenyth (OC) - platonic

Comfy-vember 2024 Masterlist

—

Over an hour into the training session, Sera was still thinking about her bed. Even with a near continuous onslaught of physical and mental attacks from Rhysand, she couldn't control the longing.

The yearning. 

Once they were through with training, Sera knew the House of Wind would take care of her. Despite the fact that she had vacated her bed no more than an hour earlier, being ruthlessly forced from the comfortable slumber by an insistent Rhysand, Sera knew her bed would already be made with freshly laundered sheets and blankets, all of it deliciously warm to the touch. Her favorite loungewear would be folded at the foot of the bed, ready for her to slip into after her bath. The House was often kind to her like that.

It was truly a distracting thought knowing that she had no other plans for the day. Once she fulfilled Rhysand’s wishes and he deemed her efforts with training sufficient, she would be released for the day. Once Rhysand was happy, Sera could take a warm bath and get right back into bed with her book and a cup of tea and…

Sera jolted to the right as Rhysand's fist made contact with her side. It wasn’t a hard hit, the force behind it coming nothing close to what she imagined his full power to be, but like small things tended to do, the hits were starting to add up. 

You're distracted, Serenyth.

Sera groaned, but didn't offer him a proper answer, instead throwing a punch powered primarily by the sudden surge of annoyance—both that Rhysand had made his way into her head and that he had once again honed in on the same spot he'd been targeting since about fifteen minutes into the session.

"Get. Out. Of. My. Head," she hissed as Rhysand ducked around her punch.

You're the one who let me in here. Strengthen your walls if you don’t want me walking around.

You’re just upset I’m not paying you any attention, aren’t you, my high lord? 

Rhysand blinked and tilted his head at that. A smirk tugged at his lips and though he tried to hide it, the light of it was evident in his eyes. 

Ah, yes. I am terribly wounded.

There had been some initial awkwardness between the two of them when Rhysand first arrived home. Sera had spent the entirety of her life safely tucked into the fold of his Inner Circle, shuffled between Velaris and the Illyrian camps while Rhysand had been trapped Under the Mountain. After her mother's passing, it had been Mor, Cas, Azriel, and Amren who looked after her—raised her. 

Rhysand hadn’t been there for any of it, but Sera had known of the High Lord of the Night Court. She had known that he had been close with her mother. She had known that the Rhysand was considered family, and she knew that had he not been trapped, she would have known and loved him as she loved the others. 

She knew that, and yet, Sera had still been tentative of him at first. She had been unusually deferential and respectful, her cheekiness stowed away, though that facade hadn't very lasted long.

Rhysand had seen right through it, and he’d encouraged Sera to be herself around him. The more time they spent together, the easier it became, especially as Sera learned that Rhysand could be funny and charming and that he wasn’t at all what she had imagined a High Lord to be. 

The fact that he could be endlessly infuriating helped more when it came to bringing her out of her shell. And the fact that he was so persistent and thorough and smug when it came to training. 

It wasn't as though the others had been slacking with her training—the Inner Circle were all entirely capable and exhaustive teachers—but it was as though Rhysand was making up for some proverbial lost time with each and every session he had with her. Sera supposed that he was doing exactly that, in a way, equipping her with skills he would have trained her in from childhood had he been around. 

Because even though Sera had been trained in combat and flying and weaponry, she had never been trained to protect her mind. She had never needed that training seeing as no one around her had been able to climb inside and make themselves at home like Rhysand could, another infuriation. 

Rhysand had explained to Sera how to protect herself over and over in the preceding weeks, guiding her through the process, but she still found the practice difficult and it wasn’t uncommon for her to suddenly hear the High Lord’s voice in her head as he passed through the room. Keeping him out was even harder to do during training, when her concentration was split between the attacks occurring both in and outside of her mind. She tried to lean on the meditation practice her mother had tried to teach her as a child, but she had never been very good at that, her mind far too loud and busy.

You're annoying.

Sera's fists clenched as Rhysand smirked at her insult from across the training ring.

I've been told as much.

In the weeks since he had been home, Sera had learned that her mother had also found the High Lord endlessly infuriating. Her mother had also called him annoying and a wide range of more colorful synonyms, and the two of them had bickered with the same fervor that Sera sometimes found herself engaging with him now. Sera had a temper, just like her mother, something that used to get her in trouble when she joined Cassian and Azriel at the Illyrian training camps, but it didn’t seem to get her in trouble with Rhysand. 

Being persistent and smug—just like the High Lord—didn’t seem to get her in any trouble, either. He allowed her to give it just as good as he did, and at the end of the day, Sera enjoyed training with him even though she had yet to land a single hit against the High Lord. She enjoyed learning from him, and she found a certain comfort in the fact that they were similar because Rhysand was only partially Illyrian, just like her. And part fae, just like her. She didn’t know what else she was. Her mother had kept that to herself, but having someone to relate to on those known identities was something of a relief. 

While she had bonded with Cassian and Azriel because she was born out of wedlock like them, especially Cassian who had also never known his father, Sera had always felt a little different because at least they were both full Illyrians. Sera felt like she was in the middle, not quite anything and not quite belonging to anyone. She had grown up surrounded by love, and she was grateful for that, but it didn’t quiet the feeling of otherness that inhabited a part of her. The fact that she didn’t seem to belong anywhere. 

Sera’s mind wandered as they continued to circle one another, and Rhysand tapped her unprotected side once again. This time wasn't a hard hit either. He was taking it easy on her by this point, though Sera knew a bruise was already taking root in that spot. 

Sera threw a punch back and Rhysand easily sidestepped it once again.

"Stop. Hitting. Me. There!" she ground out.

I'll stop when you properly protect yourself. You need to block your—

Shut up! 

Sera nearly roared as his hand tapped her side once again. Or perhaps she did roar, a bit of rage and pain coming out of her all at once as she surged forward, quick and angry enough that she finally made contact with Rhysand’s body. It was just one hit and the shock of it stilled her, some part of her ready to apologize for daring to land her fist against him until Rhysand smiled.

"Good job," he said, and it took a moment for Sera to realize that he was speaking to her, the first words he had spoken outside of her mind since they walked out onto the balcony. She wasn't certain how she had managed it, there was a wall firmly in place in her mind.

"We'll go again. Keep your wall up and keep this protect—"

"How about you choose a different target?" Sera suggested as she took a step backward, twisting away from his outstretched hand. "I'm already going to bruise."

"Would Cass choose a different target?" Rhysand asked. "I can't imagine he'd be pleased if I allow you to keep leaving yourself open like that."

They both knew Cassian wouldn't allow it, and Sera became suddenly aware of why Rhysand had been so focused on that spot today. Cassian had clearly already told him where she had struggled recently. He had told Rhys that she had been lacking in her defensive maneuvers, that they'd spent most of their recent sessions with him focusing on that same spot over and over, ensuring that there would be a reminder for hours after the session. And then he would hone in on that same spot during the next session, and the one after that, ensuring she learned her lesson, which clearly, she hadn't.

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, waiting on his answer.

"No," Sera huffed. "He'd go for it over and over because, just like you—" The hint of a smirk passed over her lips— "he's an assho—"

Sera didn't get the rest of the word out as she was forced to block Rhys's approach, his hand reaching out for her side as he clawed at the walls surrounding her mind.

Sera laughed, holding his wrist away from her body as she fortified the wall in her mind, her gloating smile in place for just a moment before he effortlessly shifted out of her grip and twisted her so she was trapped with her back against his chest.

"Were you just about to call your High Lord an asshole, Serenyth?" he asked.

"Yes," Sera ground out as she struggled against his hold. "But only because you are one. You and the Casshole and Az—"

Sera's stomach dropped at the sound of a throat clearing on the other end of the balcony and she twisted in Rhysand's grip to see around him, meeting Cassian's gaze as he approached.

The Casshole. Rhysand chuckled in her mind. Good one.

Sera cursed, but she didn't bother telling Rhysand to get out of her head this time. She didn't bother trying to reason with Cassian either, knowing it was no good at this point. He'd probably already decided on retribution.

"All these years and you still haven't learned when to keep that mouth in check, have you, kid?" Cassian continued, a grand smirk on his face as he stalked closer and lowered himself to a fighting stance.

Sera didn't answer, too focused on Rhysand's instructions in her mind, their shift from opponents to teammates quick and unexpected, and for once, she was grateful for his ability to intrude into her mind. Grateful for his quickness with strategy.

At the perfect moment, Rhysand would spin her free, propelling her towards the balcony edge. All she had to do was release her wings and fly away, allowing him to deal with Cassian. To keep him distracted while she escaped. Sera kept her face neutral as Cassian continued to taunt her, preparing herself as Rhysand counted them down in her mind.

A bit of celebratory laughter spilled out as Rhysand released her, but it caught in her throat as Azriel appeared in front of her, the impossibly quick movement shielded by his shadows. Sera crashed into Azriel’s chest before she even had a chance to release her wings and she took a sudden step backward, her hands raised in defense. "Az, wait, I—"

Cass let out a laugh. "You think he's going to help you when the next name out of your mouth was about to be Azrihole?" he offered, grunting as he and Rhysand tussled, a bark of joyous laughter spilling out through Rhysand's mouth at the moniker. “Nice try, kid.”

It wasn't as if Rhysand had never heard the names before. Over the years, he had used the names countless times himself, but he hadn't had occasion to think of the nicknames in half a century. He hadn't had the occasion to laugh like this, either, the unencumbered joy filling him as he continued to wrestle with Cassian.

Sera was certain it was relief she felt wash over her at the sound, the tension washing off of both Cassian and Azriel as Rhysand continued to laugh. The chuckling became quickly contagious, and the four of them were a chorus of laughter before long, the pain in Sera's bruised side compounded by the uncontrollable giggles she released as she doubled over.

"Just you wait, Rhysie," Cassian said between breaths. "The kid will have a special nickname for you, too, soon enough." 

"You may be High Lord, but I've not met a person in all of Velaris to be excluded Serenyth's sassy name calling."

"Not even Amren."

Rhys gave her an impressed glance in Sera’s. "That's bold of you. What was the—"

"It's not to be repeated under threat of whole world destruction," Cassian interjected.

"Though she probably has a few options in mind for you already," Azriel offered, a statement which had Sera acutely aware of Rhysand's approach as she scrambled to lift the barrier in her mind, keeping the potential nicknames a secret for now. 

Sera and Rhysand had come a long way in a short amount of time, but she wasn’t comfortable enough for offensive nicknames yet.

—

Comfy-vember 2024 Masterlist

[iocaisaint]

this is so not my lane but I'm up anyways. Correct me if I'm wrong but was there ever a real reasoning outside of being terrible people why Tamlin & Rhys's father hated their friendship so much?

Like I know Lord Spring (none of the people have names so I'm giving their monikers) made Beron look like a good person and Lord Night wasn't far better but like an actual reason.

One thing I could think of politically is that both Tamlin and Rhys are the strongest high lords, respectively (this is retconned anytime SJM feels like but we're going with it). It stated that in hand to hand Tamlin is winning but with magic Rhys is.

They were both clocked as heirs (even while having siblings and them being older in Tamlin's case) basically from birth.

Now me personally, if I was as paranoid and evil as Lord of Spring and Night, I definitely wouldn't like someone with that much raw power being able to influence my son in any capacity. Like the courts seem to be pretty insular and only come together in times of war and marriage.

Also, sidenote but not really. I know a good portion of them are dead post-Amarantha but I feel like the other High Lords would've hated it too. These heirs who are both showing leagues more powers than their already powerful and frankly crazy fathers are friends now....how did that slide.

There's so many questions from that time period and since SJM refuses to either leave Tamlin alone or kill him, I hope we get answers

[acourtofquestions]

For being a “romance” writer I actually think the best love stories shown in the Maasverse are not romantic:

The platonic & “found family” storylines; Primarily the SISTERHOOD is what I think lands next level.

*stay with me here*

The Archeron Sisters: dysfunctional — YES — but aren't siblings always?🤣 They however, not only carry the plot; (example) THEY kill Hybern. But, they ALSO carry the greatest character development; (ex.) NESTA! And in that propel the two; (ex-LITERALLY the BEGINNING of the ENTIRE series) why does Feyre go with Tamlin to Prythian in the first place? — to protect/save her sisters. The 3 of them serve as a key to the heart of the story. Their dysfunction as children (reminder: they were children) revolved both around carrying the weight of their parents mistakes, a village that abandoned & scorned, and their failures to themselves & each other; but in the end, they are redeemed. At the end of the day, they ARE sisters, & they love each other; they will go to the grave for that, they will come home to that, and they will keep trying & surviving, fighting with & for that… Without them there is no story… it ends long before it begins; the high lady dies with her child, the man of shadow never laughs, the son of autumn stays in suffocating spring, the blood letter bleeds to death, no ships appear in the war, the mortal world is forgotten falling to ruin unseen & unspoken, the world crumbles under the mountain as violet eyes go out, no paint coats the cabin, the eldest daughter freezes in her barren bitter cold, the flower child wilts in the bereavement of once being beloved, the girl stays alone never knowing more never feeling love never having a thing to fight for; she never kills the wolf. The story is untold without the Archeron Sisters.

The Valkyrie: beyond the Archeron sisters we have a sisterhood that was built out of shared trauma & shared strength beyond blood-bound; a storyline that I found quite literally healing to read (especially for women who have lived through trauma and abuse; a group that’s voice is not often heard enough) & hitting home dearly for any woman who has experienced found sisterhood; you know, it is a different kind of love; one that would go to war for each other, a love that knows more, adores wholly (seeing & knowing better, more, deeper, further; unconditional). Their friendship is very VERY powerful; from the quite literal physical sense, and the greater sense of empowerment (both to the characters, storyline/plot & the readers); plus extra props to being able to change Nesta’s mind (that alone is a feat worthy of godesshood😂). And the heroine’s of the storyline; one that exceeds a singular book & enters the real world; almost becoming an entire series of a new world (even without the tale to read; though I hope for more someday).

I can’t speak of Valkyries & Archeron Sisters without speaking to our other ancient brethren of heroes; THE BAT BOYS: I feel like another group in contrast that is not always given a voice that allows emotion is friendships among men (they are either acceptable by “bro” codes with a double-back-pat ONLY, or demeaned as for showing normal human emotion) so, I appreciate that here we have powerful & strong heroes (that are portrayed as such) while having platonically loving friendships/found family (that does not revolve around demeaning women). And what a powerful/beautiful century spanning tear-jerking true-love showing story it is; one that is a key to the heart & psyche of these characters; & that I think the story would not exist without. They have loved each other through everything; from start to end, they have fought side by side, they were the heart before there was a story. They were what they were fighting for… you could say the true treasure was the friends they made along the way… like 500 years ago… & I mean doesn’t that say enough? — Who would you spend 500 years with? — Well, whatever the answer is: THAT is true love.

[ellievickstar]

Friendly Monster (Azriel x Reader)

A/N: I love procrastination and I refuse to stop generating new ideas and going back to this one, let’s please my intrusive thoughts and make a fic based on my impulsive idea so this is Day 1 of my 300 followers week! 

Summary: An ACOTAR one shot that paints the life of Rhysan’s youngest sister.

Inspired by: Nothing I ended up scrapping the original inspiration

Request: N/A

Warnings: Angst, Beron Vanserra, Amarantha, mentions of Rhys’s trauma from under the mountain. Mentions of rape.  

~*~*~*~*~

Growing up with Rhysand and Cassian was a pain. You spent your time with Morrigan in the court of nightmares but when your brother and his friend visited, or vice versa, they were assholes. Rhys and Cassian were like any other pair of reckless, stupid, ignorant illyrian boys, even with hard training, they were still cocky and had egos the size of the entirety of Prythian. 

They constantly pushed and prodded at your buttons, you were frustrated with the constantly, however, you were never furious with them. Not even when Cassian slept with Mor. The one time you were truly furious with them was when they were making fun of Azriel for not being able to fly. 

Something about their lack of sympathy ticked you off, the scars of Azriel’s hands were a good indication of his situation before the Illyrian camps. You berated Rhysand whenever he laughed at Azriel’s meek attempts at flying and told them off constantly. 

And that was somehow home. 

During the war, you were kept away from prying eyes and Amarantha somehow never got wind of you. You never followed you older sister and mother to the Illyrian camps because you had been busy sorting out some issues with Keir with your father, something you would always regret. 

When they were slaughtered you were devastated and fell deeply sick, by the time you recovered you were fatherless and your only living relatives were Morrigan and Rhys. You sobbed into you brother’s arms as you grieved over the lost of your father, even though he was still emotionally abusive. 

You were so much younger then Rhys and that reality hit you hard as you witnessed your brother harden his demeanour in front of your eyes, in front of others he became cold and distant. In a way, you also mourned the loss of your brother. 

That’s when the day of Rhysand’s party he threw for Amarantha came. 

Your first mistake was following Rhysand to that party. 

Your second mistake was not running. 

You last mistake was coming out of hiding. 

You screamed when you realised that Amarantha had taken control of your brother. Amarantha giggled and the sound made you want to throw up. You reached out to your brother’s mind, devastated as you realised that Amarantha had made him shut you out. 

He glanced at you once, the mask he wore cracking as he seemed to try to communicate the words that he would never be able to openly express for th next fifty years. I’m sorry. 

Tears streamed down your face as you watched your brother change again, as he became the swaggering, arrogant, loyal servant to the one woman you begun to despise. You watched for fifty years as she dragged him to her bedroom and used him in ways that you couldn’t begin to imagine. Every Starfall you were forced to entertain Amarantha’s goons, every Starfall another heart break, and maybe that changed you too. 

The worse was when you were gifted to the oldest son of the Autumn Court one night when Rhysand broke the rules. You whipped your head to your brother as you were dragged away by Eris, you screamed and screamed, pleading for him to do something, but he stayed rooted to the ground and watched. 

You remembered the fear that overwhelmed you as Eris snarled at you to shut up. You remember the opening of the door as you were lifted bridal style once you calmed down. You remember that he told you to start screaming and crying again. You remember screaming your throat raw until you felt like you were going to pass out. You remember the feeling of arms wrapping around you as you were placed into a warm bath. You remember Eris murmuring in your ear, trying to comfort you. You remember falling asleep. 

It was only at the end of those fifty years were you able to explain everything to Rhysand, he thanked Eris in private and you hugged the red-headed male who had grown to love you like a brother as well. He made you swear to tell him if anyone hurt you so he could burn them alive himself. That made you laugh, but you weren’t sure if he was serious. 

You stayed under the mountain as you ensured that everyone could leave. That was when Tarquin approached you. 

“I know your not that much older then me, any tips to get all the old bastard’s respects,” He tried. You were startled at the words he used, breaking into a smile as you began to share some of your experiences with the High Lords. How you visited Kallias after the attack and made sure that he understood that it was Amarantha’s fault, how you protected Thesan’s lover when Amarantha tried to ask why he never slept with any women — though it may have also been because he wasn’t attracted t any of them — you even shared how Eris helped you all those years ago. 

Tarquin listened intently to your stories before you finally bid him goodbye and winnowed to the moonstone palace. There, you found Rhys on the floor having a full blown freak out while Mor was trying to comfort him without laughing. 

You soon understood the situation, you wanted to smack Rhys’s head when you found out about the bargain, and you wanted to throttle him for deciding that he would not tell Feyre about the bond. After his — comical to say the least— freak out, you winnowed to the House of Wind and was immediately greeted with huge arms wrapping around you as you were spun around. Cassian cheered as he practically shouted to the whole of Velaris that you had returned home. 

Azriel smiled and you opened your arms, he rolled his eyes as he picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, you shrieked, pounding on his back while Rhys just pointed a certain finger st you when you cussed at him when he refused to help you. 

When Azriel finally put you down, you spent the rest of the night with your family, sharing the time under the mountain. Though it wasn’t great, you all cried together and that was important. Mor was astounded to hear of Eris’s change of character and considered that maybe the bastard could change after all. 

Once everyone was tired, you waved goodbye to everyone as they retired to their rooms for the night. You helped Nuala and Cerridwen and bid them good night before approaching Azriel’s room. 

Pushing the door open, you were met with Azriel’s hazel eyes as he closed the door. You sighed as you collapsed, tired, into his arms and he held you quietly against his warm body. You sighed, content to stay there the rest of the night. 

“Your brother would kill me if he knew about us,” Azriel suddenly said. You looked up and realised that you had been screaming your thoughts down the bond. “We found out just before I went under the mountain, give him some time to adjust the the good things then we’ll tell him after I finally accept the bond,” You said simply. 

And there was your secret. Azriel was your mate. You had found out a few days before Rhys’s party, you had planned on accepting the bond, but you never had the chance to. You had wondered if Azriel had waited for you, if he would have moved on… 

Azriel rubbed a thumb against you palm, snapping you out of your thoughts, mumbling that your think too much. 

“I could never replace you, you would be the only one who could love a monster like me,” He grumbled and shifted you to lie down next to him as he snaked an arm around your abdomen. Though he had said that in good light, you knew that deep down he meant it. Your heart broke a little and you turned to face him. 

“You might think that your a monster, but you’re mine,” You hummed as you traced circles against his cheek. “My friendly monster,” You giggled and he chuckled. The sound reverberated against the walls of the room, and everything seemed to finally be at peace. 

~*~*~*~*~ Taglist: ask me if you want to be tagged! tag list: @moonfawnx @bankerfrog @younxii @hideing@flightlesslittlebirdie  @menagerofmischief @famousbasementpainter @owllover123  @gigisssz  @cityofidek  @aetherl0l @judig92

[elliemarchetti]

Gwynriel Weeks Day 5

I know today's prompt for @gwynrielweeksofficial was domestic life, and I kind of respected that, but I couldn't resist the opportunity to write this sort of fake dating AU

Prompt: Domestic Life

Words: 1064

Azriel opened his eyes slowly, annoyed by the pale sunlight coming through the decorative curtains. He had overslept, a unique occurrence, but the worst part was that he wasn't recognizing his surroundings. The room was too small, the bed definitely not his, and the light wooden door located in the wrong place, too close to the window, beyond which voices speaking an unknown language chattered softly. Instinct told him to sit up, to make sure there was no danger, and to chase away whoever was daring to peek into his privacy, but a familiar weight on his chest and left arm glued him to the mattress, its warmth comforting for both his body and his spirit.

“Good morning,” a female voice, still drenched in sleep, murmured, and Azriel remembered everything. The mission that could have resulted in a disaster, the cover story Gwyn had invented on the spot, the kind family that had found them on the borders, his injuries, and the priestess desperate plead for help. He heard her say they were a couple of diplomats returning from Vallahan, who had been tasked with managing delicate commercial relations but had been followed by criminals who had almost killed them.

"All for a stupid necklace," she had said, probably showing the pendant whose original recipient was in Prythian, in the arms of her red-haired mate. The lesser Fae believed her, and accompanied them to their village, where Azriel could wait for his right wing to recover.

“You were lucky,” their healer, a tall, lanky creature with long straw-blond hair, had told him. “If they had hit you closer to the shoulder I wouldn’t have known how to save your ability to fly.”

Azriel had shuddered at the thought, and Gwyn had immediately approached him, placing a delicate hand on his muscular arm. She had reassured him, and caressed his face, just like a worried lover. When she had left him alone to rest, she had returned with their hosts to the living room, which also served as the kitchen, and had helped them prepare dinner. They had given her a simple dress, a little worn but still her size, and an apron to avoid getting dirty, into the large pocket of which she had immediately begun to stuff fresh herbs from the small garden in the back. She had put her hair up in a soft braid, and had laughed and joked with the little ones at home, who had the same teal eyes as her and the dark skin of the Summer Court’s inhabitants.

“I would like to have wings like your boyfriend,” the youngest had told her. “So I could beat the other kids in running races.”

She hadn’t denied that their bond was romantic, she hadn’t shown the slightest sign of discomfort at the idea, and even though Azriel knew he didn’t deserve her, he kept spying on her from the crack of the door she had left open, and had listened to her tell to the youngling that even though she didn’t have wings, she was still the fastest among her friends.

Three nights had passed since that day, and although he was starting to get better and no longer felt strong pangs of pain when he tried to stretch his shoulders, he knew he couldn’t resume the mission. Gwyn had helped him with this too, to understand where to start again, how to contain the damage, but above all she had taken care of him like no one had ever done before. She helped him bathe, and get dressed, and she even fed him the first time he got up to eat, making him blush like a lovesick puppy. During the night she had asked him if she hadn’t gone too far, her voice little louder than a breath of wind, but he had reassured her by holding her close and giving her a long kiss on the forehead. The truth was that he liked that farce, he enjoyed the illusion of being able to have a normal life with her, a peaceful existence, where there were no wars, secret missions, enemies to face openly and allies whose loyalty had to be controlled with bargains and blackmail. If someone had told him he would have this kind of thoughts a few days earlier, he would’ve laughed in the face of anyone who dared picture him so weak, but now that he had experienced what it was like to have a normal life with the priestess, he couldn’t help but wish for a little house just for them in the middle of nothing, a place that hadn’t been given to him by Rhysand and that didn’t remind him of the past, maybe a cottage he'd built with his own hands, though he wasn’t sure they knew how to make something so pure. For her, he could’ve learned. With her, perhaps he could forget the horrors of his childhood, and ennoble those bastard origins without being someone’s torturer. He was grateful to Rhysand for everything he had done for him, for saving his life and offering him food and shelter and protection, but working for him inevitably took away the daily life he longed to share with a partner. He could already imagine her walking around the house barefoot, relaxed, the smell of stew in the air and a child or two jumping around asking when dinner would be ready. For centuries, Azriel had been adamant on the issue of offspring: he had a terrible father, and he wasn’t going to be the same for an innocent creature. But with Gwyn…

“Everything okay? Are you feeling sick?” she asked, propping up on one elbow to get a better view of his face, and Azriel wondered what kept him from digging his hand into the flaming cascade of hair that had escaped from the silk tie, forming a puddle of harmless fire on his naked chest, to kiss her senseless. Decency and fairness would’ve been the right answer, but it was fear and guilt, so he just shook his head and told her he was simply hungry.

“I’ll go get you something for breakfast,” she murmured, and as if nothing had happened, as if sleeping together and being so close had been the most natural thing in the world, she got up, heading towards a kitchen that wasn’t theirs but could’ve been.

[arson-09]

The Vibes of my fanfic through songs

An ongoing mini series of lyrics from songs that relate to the fanfic im currently writing. The fic is still unpublished but i am working on it :)

From Eden by Hozier

Babe There's something wretched about this. Something so precious about this. Where to begin? Babe There's something broken about this. But I might be hoping about this. Oh, what a sin

Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me, I should know

I slithered here from Eden just to hide outside your door

It seems to me that every relationship (platonic or romantic) that Tamlin finds himself in starts because he’s curious about them, drawn to them. Rhysand, Lucien, Feyre. Maybe it will end well this time

[jazzistic]

Nesta doesn't save Feyre at the end of acosf AU

Everything is the same up until the last minute, maybe Nesta is too late or smth, either way Feyre dies on childbirth, Feysand's death pact kicks in and Rhys dies too. Cliffhanger!

No idea what happens in hofas but Nesta is acting suspicious the entire time until its revealed she's trying to bring Feyre (and Rhysand ig) back. Azriel is there too idk idc

Second Nesta book, post-hofas, Nessian is a SituationshipTM and the NC is in shambles. Nesta is obsessed in bringing Feyre back to life and Cassian is... not. Idk maybe Rhysand asked him for it before dying, but now all Cassian cares about is protecting Nyx and the NC, he doesn't believe in Nesta's mission and is busy making sure Beron or someone else doesn't invade or smth.

Honestly, I imagine this book being more Nesta and Mor-centric rather than anything. Mor has to step in as a regent and deal with Keir and the CoN. Nesta is off in her own Orpheus and Eurydice mission, maybe with Ember bc I like her.

In the end Mor confronts her past and deals with her father, maybe strikes an alliance with Eris, and Nesta... fails. She goes to Fae Underworld and finds Feysand, she makes a deal and tries bringing Feyre back to life but she has to not look back yadda yadda point is, Feyre and Nesta have a heart to heart, there's screaming and crying and hate and love and the walk goes on forever, the hallways so, so dark; Nesta can't make sense of what she sees in front of her, doesn't know if she even is seeing something, it feels like days and weeks and minutes, seconds, really, so long and so quick. Hunger and thirst aren't really a thing down there, it seems like nothing is, everything feels so... otherworldly. Like she is drunk on happiness. But every so often there comes dread, and she clutches against her sister's hand, says one thing or other, talks and talks and talks and... Listens? Is Feyre saying something? The wind whistles by, deafening everything else. Or does it? Is there any sound but the wind? When has Feyre stopped talking? Did she ever start?

The weight on her hand becomes less of a comfort and more of a mockery. She doesn't know if it really is there, can't make out whether the sweat on her palm is hers or her sister's, can't say whether the footsteps she hears is Feyre's or- No, it's hers. It has to be. They said it was her sister, they promised her, she only needs to walk a bit more, be brave only for a while more. She can do it; she will do it.

Nesta walks. She walks and she stumbles and whenever she falls, she gets up and walks again. Feyre is behind her. "Just a little more," she says. "I'm behind you," she says - but who is she?

Nesta walks.

She doesn't know for how long, but she walks. And when she sees the light of day pooling on this dreadful abyss, she doesn't have any more tears to cry - so she laughs. Nesta runs, pulling her sister's hand, almost jumping towards the light, and when she turns back-

Feyre is there. Their hands are connected, her sister looking just as she remembered, not the way she looked when she lost her, but just... Feyre. The brightest star in the night sky, shining amongst the darkness.

"Nesta..." she says. "Thank you."

And just like a star, she disappears in the daylight.

[foxcort]

acotar & asoiaf au collection || The Night Court as House Arryn.

"As High As Honor." // Rhysand Arryn of the Eyrie, Lord of the Eyrie, Warden of the East and Defender of the Vale.

ft. Morrigan Frey of the Twins (formerly), Emissary of House Arryn, cousin of Lord Rhysand Arryn, daughter of Lord Keir Frey and Heir of House Frey (formerly, disowned after her exile and annulled betrothal to Eris Baratheon).

ft. Ser Azriel Stone of the Vale of Arryn, a Knight of the Vale, bastard son of the late Lord Arryn, half-brother and personal bodyguard of Lord Rhysand Arryn and illegitimate member of House Arryn. A Shadowbinder, making it possible that his mother hailed from Asshai.

[queercontrarian]

i’m sorry

“You cannot expect the Spring Court to keep groveling at your feet for the rest of eternity,” Yllka scoffed, staring down each High Lord individually, glaring especially hard at the factions of the Solar Courts, “Why do we still have to beg forgiveness for sins we have not committed and hope for your goodwill when people in the Seasons are dying?” The desperation in his second’s voice had Tamlin’s fists clench helplessly. He hated these meetings, and he hated the role his Court was forced into when they had been fighting so hard to rebuild. It was Rhysand who finally spoke up.

“Honestly, begging for forgiveness is the least you could do. The Mother knows your High Lord still owes us quite a few apologies,” the male drawled, his voice cold and even. He didn’t think anyone else except maybe Feyre or his brothers could hear the barely repressed anger, the wound as fresh and painful as ever just below the surface. It might have been useful to be able to read a rival so reliably, but mostly it just hurt. Not quite strangers, not quite enemies. Oh, he knew exactly what the male was referring to. Nearly four centuries had passed since the murder of their families, but every time they found themselves near each other it felt like it happened yesterday. History that could never heal, no matter how much time passed. Rhysand would forever punish his people for Tamlin’s mistakes and he was so over it, he was so tired. Too tired to care anymore despite still caring way too much. Yllka, Eallair and all the others could work as hard as they wanted, he could remove himself as much from the Spring Court as he wanted to, Rhysand wouldn’t get over his hatred for Tamlin enough to not spite innocent Spring fae, to separate him from his folk, from his friends, his officials, even Lucien who hadn’t visited him without an order from Night to do so in years. He could feel the anger and disappointment well up in him, the urge to smack some sense into the other male, or even just smack him for the sake of it. To get Tamlin to lose his composure would be exactly what Rhysand wanted. And unfortunately, in this moment it was exactly what Tamlin wanted too.

“Oh, well if it’s an apology you’re after,” he snarled, stepping in front of Yllka “Have your apology: I’m sorry you ever approached me in the first place.” Cassian and Azriel rose at the same time Rhysand did when he made another step into the circle of fae, towards the other High Lord. It was barely a threat, not under Thesan’s roof. The magic prevented any real fighting to occur and would put any who sought to do physical harm down quickly. Rhysand, knowing this too, bid his brothers to stand down. 

“I’m sorry you continued to pursue me despite everyone telling you it was a terrible idea. I’m sorry our fathers were the worst males to ever walk this cursed continent and I’m sorry we dared to become friends anyway. I’m sorry for understanding you, I’m sorry for wanting to keep you around. I’m sorry you believe only what you want to believe.” Tamlin saw Lucien move in from the side, but he couldn’t stop himself from stalking towards the Night Court seats, pulled by the same invisible thread that had Rhysand moving to him. “I’m sorry you made choices you regret and I’m sorry other people paid the price for our actions. I’m sorry I didn’t run fast enough. I’m sorry my brothers found me and dragged me back to Harthforst gagged and bound.” His voice hitched, his claws rapidly breaking out and retracting at the memory he’d tried so hard to repress. Rhysand just stood, mere feet away from him, and stared, unable or unwilling to say anything. All the better, since Tamlin couldn’t stop himself from continuing, and if he was getting louder, if everyone in Dawn heard, if by the next day all of Prythian knew his pathetic story, well his image had been ruined for a long time anyway. “I’m sorry my father chained me up in his cursed cellar, torturing me for days, and I’m sorry I held out until my mother came back. I’m sorry she was so selfish to not want her son to die at the hands of his father, I’m sorry she told my father everything I knew. I’m sorry I followed them to Illyria as soon as I could stand, I’m sorry for tracking them down, I’m sorry for killing your sister before my brothers could do worse to her than just take her wings.” His gaze was clear, glued to his face, and for a moment it felt like it was only them in the room. “I’m sorry I left my dagger behind for you to find, so you’d know who did it. I’m sorry for getting locked in my room because I wouldn’t stop screaming until I couldn’t anymore. I’m sorry you didn’t kill me when you had the chance.” Tamlin leant in closer, their noses nearly touching, green and violet eyes locking when he whispered “I’m sorry I loved you and I’m sorry you loved me back.” 

[bubybubsters]

A new beginning (platonic)

A/n: this is mostly just to figure out different perspectives and stuff. Enjoy!

masterlist

Y/n was in the arms of a stranger, she struggled and kicked and yelled horrible words to get rid of the skin to skin contact. It felt like fire, like the hands of her parents always harsh and too hot. Always hitting, up until the House had went up in flames and when she tried to run these strong arms banded around her. Her puny 23 years of muscle couldn’t do a thing. But y/n still hit, tried to get him to let go, even if it meant dropping to her death.

Eventually they arrived at a house, more like a mansion, and he let go of her when they reached solid ground again. “This is the River House, you will be safe here. My name is Azriel and you’re in the night court. The high lord will be here soon.” Azriel’s voice was like pure darkness, suffocating, but comforting at the same time. He offered his elbow but y/n didn’t take it, instead opting to follow him into the house.

Azriel made tea for her and set it on the table. She sat down just as the high lord and high lady came in. The high lady stepped forward.

“Hello y/n, my name is Feyre and this is my mate, Rhysand. I’m sorry for your losses but if you allow us to see your memories, we can find and capture the people responsible.” Y/n eyed the couple warily before responding.

“Thank you for your condolences but my parents beat me all the time so I am not that sad to see them go. However those strangers did just burn my house so I will let you see who they were.” She took a sip of her tea before setting it down and lowering her mental shield. A dark presence entered her mind and sifted through her memories, carefully extracting the information needed. The presence retreated from her mind and she slammed her shields back down. The high lord finally spoke, his voice smooth and relaxed.

“Well y/n, we offer you a place here, you can train with Cassian and Azriel, you can go down and live in Velaris, you could even leave. It is entirely your choice. Take as much time as you wish to decide, if you need a night or two, Az can show you to your room. We’ll be off to hunt some idiots.” Rhysand and Feyre exchanged a look before looking back at y/n. She was stony faced and mulled it over a bit before answering.

“I would like to stay and train with Azriel, I want to learn to defend myself. And high lord? I have one more request if it’s not too much.” Y/n studied Rhysand carefully and at his nod she let her magic loose. Dark tendrils spread through the room, the replica to Rhys’s own power. “Will you train me?”

[toast-com]

An au of sorts, i guess, based on a song I was just listening to.

"Friends" by Anne-Marie could be a Tamlin and Rhysand song, in my opinion.

The au-thing:

Tamlin sees himself and Rhysand as friends and nothing more, and Rhysand wants them to be more than such, because he feels such a strong attraction to Tam. Tamlin is annoyed at the constant advances, and flirtation from Rhysand, and snaps at him one day. And their friendship just...dies after that, and they grow apart. They make new friends, find new people, new loves, but that frayed, severed thread of their friendship still connects them.