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#a court of mist and fury
the-darkestminds · 2 days
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Me reading this:
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Rhys: *banging a pen on the table out of frustration*
Azriel: Stop that. How would you feel if I banged you on the table?
Rhys: I ---
Rhys: I don't know the correct answer to that question.
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bakananya · 2 days
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Not well written, but the idea was too interesting to just not write it down. I will prolly write a fic on ao3 with better writing, this is just to put the idea out there so I dont forget about it. Just an enemies to lovers Azriel x oc or azriel x reader idea I had, with a lot of random background Idea I had on the character. Its angsty, and not the best meet cute but you know, I got the idea from a dream after I fell asleep listening to look what you made me, I did something bad, you should see me in a crown and therefore I am on loop. Good dream tbh. Anyway enjoy!
"What do you want from me, Shadowsinger?" She spat out, her hatred for his kind evident in her tone.
He tilts his head to the side again, his hazel eyes sparkling in the moonlight. He walked closer to her, his footsteps silent. "Nothing much, just curious as to why a young woman with no records of her existence is going out raiding, massacring and making so much chaos at illyrian camps?"
"They deserved it." She said quietly, but firmly. "If you're here for the women and their kids that are missing, they don't want to be found. They are safe, fed, comfortable and for the first time in their miserable lives, happy." She held her head high at the words.
"That did not answer my question. Why is a young girl such as yourself, carrying out such planned raids and missions? It can't possibly be to no end? What is your purpose?" He paused, giving her a moment to answer, but continued when she didn't. "You have caused quite the ruckus, you know? Become quite a threat." He said again, face still unreadable as he maintains the distance, knowing she could winnow away at any moment, in the cold and chilly mountains. It took months for him to track her once, he could not afford to lose her now.
"I will ask you again, Shadowsinger, what do you want?" She snarled.
"I am just trying to understand why you think a young girl like you is fit to be the judge, jury, and executioner. Justice is not something just anyone has the right to bestow." His words were veiled in amusement, as if all of her carefully plotted plans and raids were temper tantrums of a child, and not a movement in and of itself.
Her eyes glowed as her anger takes over and her magic her magic seeps out from her, uncontrolled and wild. The sheer strength of it had his amusement dying down into a look of wariness. "Do you want to know, Shadowsinger? You find it so amusing, don't you?"
He stares at her for a minute, a dark chuckle escaping his lips as he realized her weakness.
Her wrath.
"It seems I struck a cord. I do not find it amusing, but rather pitiful, you are so young, with so much anger inside you. What a waste."
She stepped closer, her magic thrumming in the ground, yet her words were quiet, filled with a kind of contempt that could only come from years of experience of things better left unheard, and unseen. "They took me from my mother by force, chopped off my wings, used me for their pleasure and left me there to die. An illyrian camp. And no one. Did. A thing." Her eyes were glaring right into Azriel's, her eyes full of all consuming wrath, as her words reminded him of another female he knew.
She laughed, but no humor was present in her voice as she continued. "No one even knew. You and your high lord lived blissfully unaware while my existence crumbled." She hissed at him, stopping just a few steps away.
"I was broken, thought I would never find myself again as I struggled in a lonely cabin I found abandoned in the woods. Felt as if everyday, I was still there, half-dead on the side of the road. Of course I knew living in the cabin was mercy compared to how they treated the women in those camps, like slaves. And thats when a girl came knocking at my door, an escapee from a camp. We decided soon after to create a safe space, for people like us. And the rest is history." She continued, eyes becoming damp at the memory, before shaking her head and smiling slightly, so sweetly. Azriel almost forgot that she had slaughtered a few dozen men a few hours ago.
He tried to reach out silently to catch her as she finally got to a distance where he knew he could grab her, so he could get more information out of her, about things she were clearly omitting, only to realise, that he couldn't move.
He looked up at her in horror as she continued smiling, almost as if it took her no effort restraining one of the strongest illyrians in history.
It didn't, Azriel realised.
"And so we trained. And I took so much pleasure in breaking the bones of men in illyrian camps as we raided them. Saved the women that wanted to leave, took them with us, back to our hideout, expanded it until it became a thriving community. We raided camps and bring people back, who can pick whatever they excel in and work in tandem. It is what I deserved when I had nothing. What they deserve." She smiled, pride shining in her eyes as she now dropped down to sit on a log in front of him, more interested in a white wildflower glowing in the moonlight instead of him.
"Say, Azriel, You're half illyrian, are you not?" She asked, her voice higher, lighter, mocking. "You trained in one of their camps, with your oh so righteous brothers, did you not?"
She did not wait for him to reply, knowing he couldn't. She made sure of it from her magic, taking away his ability to speak.
"You know it as well. Your brothers do too." Her voice was bitter as she plucked the flower. "And yet you choose to hide away in your pretty little city of starlight, ignoring the pain these women go through every day." She finally looked up at him, eyes shining with contempt. "You're just as bad as them." She hissed. "Why shouldn't I shred your wings like your people did to me? Speak, Shadowsinger, speak."
It took a moment for him to realise he could speak again.
Azriel was frustrated, he understood where she was coming from but he could feel his defensive nature for his family coming up. "Rhysand tries. He tries his best to do things for the girls there. There's new laws, there's change. It's happening but these things take time. We are nothing like them."
"You're illyrian, they're illyrian. You saw the suffering of the women there and chose to do nothing about it. You high lord may have put new rules in place, banning clipping of wings, and starting the training of girls. But you and I both know it still happens. All of you do." She shrugged, back to examining the flower. Her face was young still, and her body lithe, Azriel's heart felt a little heavy at the thought of her past, but the anger he felt at being this defenseless in front of a young fae overpowered that.
A dark growl escaped his lips as his jaw tensed, his voice was raspy when he finally continued. "We are trying our best to keep track of it, to eradicate such malpractices comple-"
He was cut off yet again, but this time her voice was louder.
"Well trying is not good enough!" She snapped. "You don't even know it when it happens. You're too busy going on fancy dinners with your inner circle. If you are so good at protecting illyrian women, where are my wings, Azriel?" She hissed as she looked into his eyes as if she was looking into his soul.
He froze at her question, his hazel eyes widening slightly. His jaw was still tense, and he tried to move his body again, failing to do so. He didn't say anything, choosing to remain silent. There was a hint of shame in his eyes as he looked away.
She scoffed as she looked away again as she dropped the flower and stood up again, dusting off her hands against each other.
"Thought so. Anyway," She cleared her throat, putting on a sickly sweet smile. "I am bored and tired of playing with you now. Scurry off, like the dog that you are and tell your high lord I said Hi. I am sure a very interesting gossip session awaits the inner circle tonight." She finished, the end of her sentence blended with yawn that had her stretching her taut muscles as she freed him from her magic and disappeared before he could even get used to the control he now had over his body again.
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thisblogisaboutabook · 20 hours
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Wicked Felina (The Girl That I Love)
Azriel x Reader - Angst - Smut - MDNI
The darkness within her became his obsession. She was his. Didn’t she know? When Azriel spies his wicked mate with another male, when he kills that male, what he knows as life shifts eternally. No longer is there life. No longer is there death. There is only Felina. Felina who has many secrets.
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Warnings: threat of self-harm/suicide, assumed character death (you’ll see), implied rape/non-con (some gross, shitty males discussing it in a tavern), dub-con, violence, obsession, dark themes, sexual content
One hour ago
Rhysand
All Rhys knew was that when Azriel returned from what was supposed to be a short inspection of the Illyrian war camps, he was different. His shadows whirred violently; his eyes… there was a darkness in them that he’d not seen even within the depths of harrowing interrogations; and while his scent remained his usual cedar chilled mist an iron tang tinged it.
“Az?” Rhys asked cautiously, trailing his brother up the stairs
“Not now.” Azriel growled, clenched fists shaking, pupils blown wide, sweat beading his brow.
Rhys said nothing more, following the frantic male to his room. Well- until Azriel slammed the door shut in his face.
Message received.
A few minutes later, Azriel re-emerged into the living area, a packed duffel bag in tow.
“Az? Talk to me.” Rhys pleaded. Fighting against the urge to dive into his mind. Azriel’s shields were ironclad but Rhys could break through them if absolutely necessary.
“Just stop. I’m fine.” Azriel growled.
He sure as shit didn’t look fine.
“I need to go handle some personal things. I have never asked for leave for anything. Can you please just allow me a couple of weeks?”
The High Lord’s brows creased, voice raising “Weeks? With no provided reasoning?”
“I said that it was personal.”
“As your employer, I can accept that it’s personal. As your family, Az, come on. What happened?”
“I’m leaving whether you grant me this or not.”
Azriel and Rhysand had many battle-of-wills over the years but this was different. Rhys could feel it in the very marrow of his bones.
And Azriel’s demeanor - Fuck, he’d always been dangerous but he was outright predatory in the moment.
Rhys shook his head. “I should kick your ass for talking to me like this but fine - go. Two weeks, Azriel, and then you’re back here or I tear the world apart looking for you. You aren’t abandoning us without reason. I will not accept it.”
Azriel’s only response was a tick of the jaw before stepping out the front door and launching skyward at breakneck speed.
Rhys spent the next hour nursing a glass of whiskey, fighting an internal battle of leaving his brother be or going to find him. Just when he began to lose that battle and head out searching, Cassian burst through the door. His hair disheveled from the wind and caked with blood, his eyes puffy and red as if he’d been crying the entire flight.
Rhys froze in his tracks at the sight of his brother who took a few steps forward before falling to the floor, knees giving out as he let out a deep, world-shattering scream.
Rhys sent his darkness to caress his mind, gently prodding for what could have left Cassian in such a state only to be met with crushing waves of grief. Rhys pushed his consciousness with great effort to cut through the viscous surge of emotion desperate for any sense of clarity.
He’d almost reached his own daemati limit when he was abruptly greeted by flashes of memory. Snow painted bright-red with blood. Azriel laying limp. Ash arrows littering his body. Lifeless hazel eyes. Long dark hair. Red lips. Eyes darker than night. Sounds of a female voice screaming. Tears falling onto blood coated hands.
Suddenly Rhys was thrust from Cassian’s mind as he fought against the induced slumber. Cassian’s body shuttered as tears broke free once again. His words slurred as he tried to communicate within his half dazed state, “Go. Ste-steppes.” Another broken sob. “Az is d- Oh gods!” He cried out. “Dead. And s-she’s”
“Who?” Rhys’ mind flashed to the female crouched over Azriel, screaming.
“Oh fuck, R-rhys. Go!!!”
Cassian fell back into his dream state before Rhys could press further.
Rhys willed himself to remain as calm as possible. Fighting to keep his mental voice steady before the grief could overtake him as he called for Amren and Feyre.
Elain, who had been in the garden, would stay with Nyx. Amren would keep an eye on Cassian and throw additional wards up, while Feyre retrieved Nesta from the House of Wind. Once Feyre returned she would be able to soothe his mind.
Feyre’s mental voice wavered, heartbreak surging through the bond at the news, but she agreed to keep details private until Rhys understood exactly what had happened.
——————
Three weeks ago
Azriel
War Camp inspections had a way of bringing out the worst in Azriel. As if his tolerance level for Illyrians was not already at a miniscule level, these inspections always seemed to inflate the egos of the Illyrians. Camp Lords and their cronies marching into meetings with puffed out chests and mouths spewing hatred particularly grated on his typically infallible patience.
Azriel had been staying at the River House for some time now, carefully avoiding Elain as much as possible, and trying his best to avoid giving Rhys anything to pull rank over. And fuck, he was so tired after a day of negotiations. With nothing but tension awaiting him at home and overwhelming fatigue, he found himself at a shitty Inn in the Illyrian Steppes.
He’d seated himself at a small corner table, shrouding himself in shadow as he observed the belligerent patrons of Rosa’s Cantina, a shoddy tavern attached to the Inn.
“Witch.” He heard a group of males call her. Their eyes fixed on a stunning female swaying her hips in time to the music flowing from a rickety piano at the front of the bar.
Remaining silent, the Spymaster listened to the ruddy males lecherous conversation.
“I wouldn’t mind being under her spell.”
“You’ll sooner find your balls nailed to a stake than completion - even with tits like that it’s not worth it.”
Azriel snarled to himself. Even outside of the Illyrian camps, the males in the Steppes were abhorrent. Backwards in every way. The woman continued twirling, her raven-black hair flowing with each movement of her supple body.
“Not if I tie her down first.” A burly male chimed in, his slurred voice gruff.
“I’ll bet you five marks that you won’t survive the encounter with all of your appendages.”
“Look at what the whore is wearing. She wants it whether she knows or not.”
The brute of a male stumbled up to her and Azriel sighed to himself, he really didn’t want to get into it tonight. But….
The male put his greasy hands on her and Azriel instantly jolted upright, preparing to step in. She tried pulling away as the male yanked her into him. The female whirled in his arms, looking up to him like a lover. The male immediately dropped his arms, palms in the air as if placating a wild animal, he began stepping away slowly. When he turned around, Azriel noticed the blood drained from his face as he threw gold marks on the table and immediately left the cantina. The males only laughed and went back to their drinking.
“Wicked Felina” they called her.
“Eh? How much money have you won off the males she scares away now?” One of the patrons chimed in.
“Enough to cover these boys.” The male slapped the new pair of leather boots adorning his feet.
Azriel hadn’t seen what the male saw in her face when she looked to him but his shadows whispered to him.
“Darkness”
“Like calls to like”
“Look”
And maybe it was the stale mead he’d downed but he did. He strode right up to the female and could have sworn he felt time stand still as the patrons of the bar watched.
He didn’t touch her, only spoke in a low tone, “May I have a dance?”
The female whirled towards him and Azriel had to fight to keep his footing steady. Before him stood the most breathtaking female he’d ever seen.
Her eyes met his and his heart sputtered as he stared into the depth of them. Blacker than night, constellations and blood and something “other” swimming inside of them. He could sense her darkness and instead of his typical urge to question, it drew him in like metal to a magnet.
As she took him in, he heard her heart skip a beat for only a moment, before that darkness invaded his senses once again. No, it wasn’t darkness to run away from at all. It was alluring, captivating, dangerous. And he wanted to drink it all in.
“You are a brave male.” She spoke with a slight, unfamiliar accent. So similar to those of Velaris but with something else mixed in.
Azriel’s shadows whirled around the female, winding through her hair and between her fingers. She didn’t balk from them, she only remained intensely focused on him.
Her scent surrounded them and he couldn’t breathe the female in deeply enough.
An hour later he found himself driving into her. Her breasts bouncing so beautifully that he nearly came from the sight alone. He’d spent so long fisting his cock as he fantasized of Elain that he’d forgotten just how glorious the feel of a tight cunt wrapped around him felt. And this female, Felina, her moans were like a sirens call, drawing him so deeply into her that he didn’t know where she ended and he begun.
He would have gone slowly with her, tenderly, worshipped every centimeter of cool, exposed skin, but she had begged him so prettily to fuck her until she forgot what she was. Who was he to deny a female who knew exactly what she wanted. He’d never fucked a female so hard and still she pleaded for more, sensing that he was holding back. When he finally let go of his restraint, he had to dig his nails into her moonlight pale flesh just to keep her from sliding away. She bit her lip and held his gaze through every thrust. Those damning eyes looking at him like she could read every fucking tendril of his own inner-void.
When she came, he came with her. The Inn shaking with the intensity of their combined orgasms. As he came down from the high, the darkness in her eyes banked momentarily a deep, blue flashing in them before once again overtaking them. He gasped sharply as a snap yanked in his chest. Gold tethering him to her.
“Mate” his shadows sang
“Our mate, our mate.”
Azriel’s breathing grew frantic. She climbed out of the bed, her exposed backside red from the slaps he’d pressed to her round ass. “Did you feel that?”
She turned her head over her shoulder, those eyes meeting his again. “Feel what?”
Azriel’s heart sank. “Nothing.”
“Hm.” She shrugged. “Intresting.” And poured a glass of water from a pitcher on an oak dresser with nonchalance. As if they hadn’t just had life-altering sex, like the ground itself hadn’t shook with the force of their coupling.
Her mouthwatering breasts bounced with each step toward him, her lightly toned abdomen baring silver, faded scars.
“Who gave you those?” Azriel asked.
“I’m as willing to talk about them as you are about those.” She nodded toward his hands.
Touché
“Curiosity can be a dangerous thing.” She stated before bringing his head to her chest and running delicate fingers through his hair until he drifted into a deep slumber full of darkness and a golden thread.
When he woke, she was gone.
And he would have thought he’d dreamt it all, had it not been for the nearly-healed crescent moon imprint of her nails littering his body. He hummed in satisfaction at the sight.
He only hoped that next time she’d leave marks deep enough to scar. He should have staked his claim on her too.
——————
Two weeks ago
Azriel
He searched for her, frantically, day in and day out but she was nowhere to be found. How could he have found his mate and been so foolish to lose her in such a short period of time. He hadn’t even told her his name.
Eventually, he had to take pause, and venture into the camps due to a couple of missing Illyrians. Through his questioning, he’d found that the males were shaking, reporting a fanged creature that swept from the trees and picked off several of their men, one by one. When they returned to reclaim the bodies, all that was left were scattered body parts. Fingers, tongues, and cocks mostly.
He remembered the whispers in the taverns of “Wicked Felina.” Surely it was just paranoia.
Azriel returned to the tavern each night, hiding outside within his shadows. She was never there.
His patience was infallible, no amount of space or time would deter him. He would find his mate, he would embrace that pit of darkness dwelling within her - even if she were the creature the men were speaking of. She hadn’t hurt him, she’d only awoken something within him. His Felina may be dark but she is not the villain. She couldn’t be.
He pushed the sight of the ghostly pale brute running away from her at Rosa’s far into the back of his mind.
——————
One week ago
Azriel
Something tugged at him that night, urged him to find her again. Felina had become the focal point of his thoughts, consumed with her 24/7.
He was a desperate male, he wanted - no, needed - to know every piece of this dark anomaly. Mind, body, spirit. He’d sought someone whose light cast upon his obsidian soul for so long - finding hope in the radiant enigma that is Mor and the gentle, sweet presence of Elain. But all along the mother knew he needed someone who could step into his shadow and find solace. When Felina stared into his eyes, he knew she saw it, saw home. He saw it in her too.
She was so new to him and yet so familiar.
His brothers would tell him he was infatuated, that this was just another Mor, but they would be so far from the truth. This was a need, as essential to him as water or air. He thrummed with desire for his Wicked Felina.
She was the other half of his soul and he would not lose out on the opportunity to make her his.
Tonight was the night, she’d be there, he felt it deep within.
And she was.
Not inside. No, in a dark corner of the alley adjacent to Rosa’s Cantina. With a silver haired High-Fae male, nearly as tall as Azriel, muscled, well-groomed.
And she - her back was pressed against the wall. Her head flung back from the crook of his neck it where her face had been burrowed, pure ecstasy written all over those seductive features. A moan escaping her plush lips.
And then he saw it. Blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.
No.
No.
This couldn’t be.
He HURT her. She didn’t want this. Didn’t she know that he was her soul-bonded mate? She wouldn’t fuck someone in the dark corner of an alley willingly.
Didn’t she know she was better than that? Didn’t she know she was everything?
Visions of the scars on her abdomen and of the male who joked about tying her down to have his way with her came to mind.
No. Not his Felina. Nobody would harm her now that she was his.
Azriel didn’t think further as he barreled for them, unsheathing truth-teller and slitting the males throat before he could even lock eyes with him.
Felina let out a quiet inhale of shock, onyx eyes blown wide.
“No. No. No.” She dropped to the male. Her nostrils flaring at the sight of him, his bloodied neck, checking for a pulse.
There was none.
Felina looked up to him with near-black, pleading eyes. “Azriel.”
And despite the peril of the moment, the fact that he clearly misread the situation, his name rolling off those pretty red lips made it all worth it.
Until the thought occurred to him. He’d never told her his name. “How?”
“Az….” Her voice cracked, the slightest bit of silver lined her eyes before darkness began radiating from her, rage filling those deeper than night eyes. Her voice became cold, deadly. “I told you that curiosity was dangerous.”
Shouts from bystanders rang out, creating panic among the villagers.
“You need to go now. They’ll recognize you.”
He paused, mouth gaping as she looked to him. He knew what she was saying but remained frozen in place.
“Azriel, please!” She cried.
There it was. His name again. Had she been as taken by him as he was by her? Had she sought him out too?
It was then that she unsheathed a dagger and held it to her own throat. “If you don’t leave, I will end it all right now.”
If he’d have looked closely, he would have seen the way her hand shook, the way she couldn’t quite touch the blade to her pale skin.
“I will find you again, Felina.” He vowed - threatened - Don’t even think about escaping me. You’re mine.
“Go.” She mouthed.
——————
Four hours ago
Azriel
Staying away for days was impossible. When she’s wander at night, he’d watch her from afar, remaining unseen. The small village mourned the dead male, apparently the esteemed ruler of this shit hole place. He caught glimpses of a mourning Felina. He felt something in the bond but he couldn’t quite make it out.
Resentment, perhaps? Jealousy? Longing?
And despite the black apparel she donned through the village, her face remained neutral with only a tinge of sadness.
Villagers whispered as she walked by. She paid them no mind.
He imagined they likely suspected the death was over her. Azriel’s shadows reported he had a wife. Why would his Felina sleep with a married male? If he was willing to cheat on his wife with her, he couldn’t have been a good male. Azriel did right by the females for eliminating him from the picture, right?
It was then that a flash of auburn appeared. The male’s wife with several large males behind her carrying torches. “Whore!” She spat. “Only fucking my husband wasn’t good enough, was it?”
“You had to sleep around with another male, one you surely had under your spell, just as you had with mine. You vile witch! And now my husband is dead because some enchanted soul grew jealous over you. You will burn for this!”
Suddenly she was placed in shackles, his shadows zooming into her vision. She must have noticed them as she whipped her head searching for him. She mouthed “no”, shaking her head in the direction his shadows raced off to. They came back.
“Blue not black. Blue not black.”
“Still beating. Still beating.”
“Mate. Mate. Mate.”
It was then that wings burst out of her back. Like Illyrian wings but white, the light casting a holographic range of gentle hues of blues and purple, and pinks. Talons emerged from her nails, but her lovely face remained impassive.
His shadows stirred aggressively.
“Alike. Alike. Alike.”
Another shadow shot back to him, beginning to report something when Azriel saw the pyre lighting in town as the villagers threw obscenities in her direction.
Felina held her head high, accepting her fate so easily.
The fire grew and Azriel once again acted on instinct. They couldn’t take her from him. And to burn her? Rage roared within him.
Azriel flew in, obliterating the large males jerking her toward the fire.
“The Shadowsinger!” someone cried out. Azriel saw nothing but Felina and the rising flames. Never would his mate be subjected to licks of flame marring her flesh. She was far too precious to burn.
Anyone who tried to lay hands on he or Felina were eviscerated. “The key!” She cried, pointing to a dead male. She ran toward it. Azriel launched in front of her, his speed overtaking hers as he retrieved it. She caught the key but her talons made it impossible to unlock the chains quickly. Azriel grabbed the key, unshackling her, the talons and wings disappearing.
“We have to go!” She shouted. Azriel caught her, launching skyward, right as an arrow shot toward them, and straight into Azriel’s back. He fought through it, he had to get her to safety. Another arrow flew through the air, narrowly missing Felina. The attempt on his mate triggering a knee-jerk reaction in Azriel who turned to send a blast of power at the bastard shooting the arrows.
He was struck in the side as another arrow met him. Azriel shot another blast of power in the direction that it came from.
Azriel could feel power rumbling under Felina’s surface. “We don’t have time! You’re hurt.”
Azriel bit back a cry at the pain radiating through his body, the blood not slowing as it should. He began feeling faint, fevered. He struggled through it, needing to make it as far away as he could but his vision began to blur as his body weakened. Felina was crying out something but he couldn’t hear her. All there was was pain and the cool press of her body against his. Gods, she was so cold.
“We need to land, Azriel! You can’t make it further.” She commended. He felt the sting of her palm on his face. “Wake up! Land!”
The slap along with her frantic voice roused Azriel enough to land them, very roughly. He crashed down on top of her.
“Felina….” He rasped.
“Shh.” She hushed him. “Save your breath. I’m okay.” Reassuring him through staggered breaths. “We need to get you to help.”
Azriel placed a hand on hers. “Too far. There’s nothing.”
“There’s got to be something!” She choked out.
Commotion erupted from the trees as a group of males from the village drew toward them. Their torches lighting the night and their bows drawn and ready.
Azriel used the little remaining might he had to push himself up. Felina throwing herself on top of him, her hands coated in his blood.
“I’m sorry for this, Azriel.” She spoke and ripped the poisoned arrow out of him, stabbing it right into her bicep. “Fuck!” She cursed. Suddenly the talons and wings were back. Her scent shifted into something so fucking familiar that it made Azriel’s heart ache, and screams echoed as she shot bursts of power at them. The range was short and the damage limited but it slowed them.
A commotion distracted the group of males as flares of red shot from the brush. A large winged male approaching from the night.
“Cass.” Felina whispered in awe.
Azriel’s vision went dark again, his conscious only picking up on words as the males screaming became less and less with each blast of power from Cassian and Felina.
A light caress came over Azriel’s mind, stroking it into submission, his pain easing. This was it. He wasn’t going to make it out of here.
And at that moment the caress broke free, Felina releasing a piercing scream. He tried moving, tried to console his mate, but the arrow that had just lodged in his heart was too much.
Azriel fought to see her one last time, her darkened eyes now shining like the night itself.
“Mate.” He whispered.
“I know, Azriel. I know.” She sobbed. Caressing his face with those delicate, chilly hands.
All Azriel remembered was the darkness embracing him once again. The pain easing as he heard Cassian’s voice.
“How?” Cassian’s booming voice cracked.
“Later, Cassian. He needs help.” Her voice was so pitiful. Broken.
Azriel’s breathing grew so shallow, that sweet darkness lulling him, even his shadows were silent. All he saw in his mind was her but she was fading. Her touch no longer registering to his senses.
He tried fighting it but there was no use as Azriel took his final breath.
“He’s dead, Cassian.”
——————
Two hours ago
Cassian
Cassian had never flown so fast in his life.
Oh gods, his brother was dead. The female, she refused to leave his side until he left to get Rhys.
His mind roared at him that he should have brought her with him. But why? Who was she?
Who was she to Azriel?
All he could remember as the tears flowed freely was that his brother was dead. That he heard the call for help from the village, that the Shadowsinger had gone mad, only to find a group of men on the attack and his brother incapacitated.
He had to get to Rhys quickly and let him know about Azriel, about the female.
——————
Present
Rhysand
Rhys winnowed to the vicinity of where Cassian had been in the memories when he’d held his mind. He flew until he found the bodies of several men. This was the clearing Cassian had been in and in the center of the clearing was caked blood.
Caked blood and no Azriel. No female.
But the blood, there was so much. He couldn’t have survived.
Right?
——————
Two hours ago
Azriel
The darkness on Azriel’s mind eased only slightly. The crippling pain too much to bear.
He opened his eyes to his version of heaven, to his mate’s face. The arrow removed from her arm.
He was in so much pain only managing to rasp out, “Can’t leave you.”
“You have to make a choice now.” She cupped his hand. “There was no other way.” She spoke to herself more than him. “There’s no way Cassian could have made it back in time.”
She was trying to convince herself. His decision was already made.
She shook her head, bracing herself for his response. “You have only a few moments left.”
The black fog cleared from his mind, every ounce of pain returning, but his eyes opened.
“Look at me, Azriel.”
He blinked and where her canines had been were sharp fangs. “I can save you but I can’t guarantee this existence is worth it. I am still figuring it out for myself.”
To his credit, Azriel didn’t balk. A chance to be with his mate… his Felina. He groaned as he turned his head, exposing his neck to her.
“Azriel, if I do this. You are bound to me. I know I’m your mate but you don’t know me. What if I’m… too much? Can you bare that?”
He tried to speak. She would never be too much. He only kept his neck exposed, a warning rattle escaping his chest.
“I’m sorry.” She whispered, as she pressed her fangs into his neck.
Blinding light erupted through him along with the worst pain he’d felt in centuries. Tears fell from those otherworldly eyes of night onto his neck.
He fought through the pain, biting back screams. He would be strong for her.
As she drank, she caressed his hair. A slight whimper and the scent of arousal escaping her. She tensed as she recognized the scent. And he could feel a hint of shame from her end of the bond.
Azriel had only heard legends of vampyr’s. Stories told in the camps to scare children who were prone to wandering off and now here she was feeling shame for her own body’s response to having him at the most intimate level.
As she drank, little gulps escaping her, he felt his strength returning. He raised a hand and grabbed her breast, massaging it as she lapped at his blood. A silent communication that whatever she was feeling did not frighten him, was not unwelcome.
Her body relaxed only slightly but he could sense her relief.
The pain began subsiding and Azriel’s strength had already returned in full, in excess, even.
Her drinking slowed and she fought against the urge to keep drinking, the greedy need for blood raging through her.
Azriel raised his hand from her breast to her face, stroking his thumb across her cheek. She leaned into it, grounding herself.
Suddenly she pulled herself off, gasping. Her chest heaving. Pain filled her eyes as she stared up at him. But he felt… incredible. Euphoric.
And there his mate was, reeking of sweet arousal. Chest heaving. Trickles of blood dripping from her mouth.
“You have to go now, Azriel. Get what you need and come back to me.”
He could hardly think. His need to be inside of her overwhelming every sense.
“Azriel. Listen!” She spoke firmly. “You have a couple of hours at most. Go home, get any healing tonics or sedatives that you may have, clothes, and blankets and come right back here.”
“I don’t-“ he started.
“You will. Can you still winnow?”
Azriel nodded. Had he winnowed in front of her before?
“Go. Now. Before Cassian gets home and bombards you with questions.”
Azriel didn’t want to leave, growing irate at the thought of it.
“I know it’s hard for you to leave. It’s a culmination of our newly tethered bond and likely the mating bond, Azriel.”
He stayed in place.
Finally she approached him. Staring straight past his eyes and into the depths of his soul as the urge to obey her taking overtook him. “Go now.”
Without another word, he left, winnowing directly to the River House, collecting a bag, and leaving Rhys with far too many questions. He prayed to the mother that he wouldn’t track him.
——————
One week later
Azriel
She’d begged him not to take her but she was declining far too quickly. They’d spent the past seven days in a daze. He had quickly gone from euphoric to delirious once returning from the River House.
And just as he’d made a life altering choice to be eternally bonded to her when she’d turned him, Felina made the choice to accept the mating bond by allowing him to feed off of her.
The combination of blood lust and the mating frenzy sent him into a spiral. They barely talked in the past few days, they’d have eternity to do that. He spent more time inside of her than out but she… she refused to feed off of him, citing that it was too risky with his newly turned state. When he wasn’t rutting into her, he was hunting for game but the blood wasn’t enough for her. He cursed himself for taking so much of her blood in his frenzied state.
She repeatedly asked that he not take her to his family but they would understand. It was the only option at this point. Her scent began shifting into that strange familiar aroma again, the darkness of her eyes swirling with flecks of blue. That “other” aspect to her diminishing slightly.
As she fought her consciousness, she barely managed to whisper “There’s more.” before going unconscious.
He’d waited so long to find his mate.
She’d saved him.
He didn’t want to go against her wishes but her condition was deteriorating rapidly. Her fever raising, her once-cool skin now burning as whimpers escaped her lips.
He did the only thing he could and prayed to the Mother that Felina would forgive him.
He flew her home.
They landed on the River House lawn in the middle of the night. Rhys appeared with a crack of thunder to confront the threat that breached his wards. Feyre, Elain, Cassian, and Nesta rushing out behind him, their eyes wide with shock.
Rhys shuddered, falling to his knees before his brother. “Azriel. Thank the mother you’re home.” He sobbed.
Felina let out a pitiful moan. Sweat beading on her brow. Her cool skin now radiating waves of heat. She slowly, weakly opened her weary eyes, the swirling black now bleeding into a blend of ultraviolet blue.
Rhys approached the female in his arms, Azriel tightening his grip on her. Time stood still as Rhys gently touched her face, carefully turning her head toward him. His face of relief crumpling into something earth shattering, the mountains quaking as he fell to his knees.
Azriel started, “This is Felina, my m-“
Rhys interrupted shaking his head as let out pained, joyous laughter. “No, Az.” He choked out. “Not Felina.”
Fighting to regain composure, Rhys clarified. “That’s Y/N.”
Azriel gasped as those now violet-blue eyes peered up into his, his jaw dropping as he carefully went to his knees with her in his arms.
That scent. Those eyes of night. Azriel’s mate was-
Rhys gave a disbelieving smile his voice again breaking at the sight before him.
“My sister.”
——————————————
A/N: Thank you for reading! For now, this is a one-shot. I have left openings in the story with the potential for it to become a series or at least part two with an explanation but have not yet decided.
This fic is loosely inspired by an old-western song called “El Paso” that I listened to growing up with my grandmother. The song is where I chose my pen name of “Felina” from. You may also recognize “Wicked Felina” as the title of the final episode of the show “Breaking Bad”
ACOTAR general tag list: @lilah-asteria
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Okay but Rhys knowing Feyre’s his mate and not saying anything to her bc at first she was in love with someone else and he wanted her to be happy even if it wasn’t with him and then she’d just gotten out of a horrible relationship where all her ex had done was trap and control her and that’s the last thing he wants to do to her, Rhys giving her agency in everything the way Tamlin never did and Rhys wanting to protect her but also for her to be able to protect herself and Rhys being content with just fucking around with her bc maybe that’s all he’ll ever have and Rhys never pressuring her or guilting her or manipulating her into being with him, it’s all about her choice whereas nothing with Tamlin was, right from the start fuck I love these books
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director-ago · 17 hours
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whoslibby · 3 days
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it was nearing midnight as you sat on the back porch, eris had been in his office working per usual. it was beginning to become apparent that his work was more important than you; well it felt like it. one of his dozen ghost hounds sat on your feet; keeping them toasty.
a full moon sat in the night sky, the hues of black and blue were beautiful; the sky was truly magical. your knees pulled to your chest; resting your head on them.
‘you shouldn’t be out here in the cold, you’ll get ill,’ eris grumbles sitting down next to you.
‘shouldn’t you be in your office working,’ you say in the same tone.
‘you know it’s not like that.’
‘feels like it,’ your voice rough with frustration. every night it was a battle for him to come to bed and spend some time with you and tonight you really couldn’t be bothered.
‘it’s just busy at the moment,’ he snaps, eris’ voice is low and husky as he takes some breaths trying to calm himself down. he never liked when you two would have small disputes. ‘dont blame me.’
‘i’ll blame you if I want to. for the past month you haven’t came to bed until it’s nearing midnight and that’s when i’m asking you to. if you aren’t happy with me tell me!’ you ranted to him. you had felt so frustrated and it seemed to always be what the two of you’d argue about.
‘i’m going on a walk,’ he tells you standing up, with a click of his fingers, the ghost hound was following him as he walked into the forest.
once he was far enough away you rubbed your face, rubbing away the sleep. were you too harsh? was it what was needed to be said?
eris on the other hand felt terrible. he knew he hadn’t of been too doting on you recently but he didn’t think it had been a month. the work had just been piling up on him. he clicked his tongue as he walked throughout the woods, the pup walking by his side, almost two thirds of the size of eris.
you headed to bed, maybe some sleep will do the trick, the two of yours arguments never lasted long. as you headed to bed, eris made his way home to the forest house.
he trailed into the bedroom, eyes half lidded. you were there in bed, asleep; so peaceful, you always were when asleep. he took off his shoes as he got into the bed. moving close to you, putting his arm around your waist. ‘i’m sorry,’ he mutters.
‘I know,’ you murmur. eris was a little shocked, he had thought you were asleep. ‘sorry for snapping.’ you felt better for saying sorry because you did mean it, you got angry and jumped to shouting.
‘i’ll do better, I promise,’ you trusted that, you always trusted eris, if he promised; he would do it.
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epochofbelief · 3 days
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Strictly Confidential: Chapter Six
A Modern Feysand AU
She’s a law student turned confidential informant. He’s a federal prosecutor with one goal: bringing down her boyfriend for his white collar crimes. What could go wrong?
A/N: I would like to thank "girl i've always been" by Olivia Rodrigo for helping me produce this one. Thanks for your patience and your love on the last chapter. Enjoy, and let me know if you would like to be tagged.
Also, I make no promises on the accuracy of international travel, time changes, and FBI investigations from this point forward. Welcome to the world of fanfiction, everyone--everything is subject to the machinations of my own mind. 😈
Sorry if the editing is crap. Needs must, and all that.
TW: drinking/alcohol
Strictly Confidential Masterlist
My other, completed, Feysand AU: What to Expect When You're (Not) Expecting
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Chapter Six
It took Rhysand two days—two days—to get in touch with Feyre after Azriel’s attack.
“I’m going to kill you,” Feyre hissed through her teeth as she stepped onto the Illyria Station platform, the final station on the Prythian City Metro Line. Rhys’s eyebrow rose at the venom in Feyre’s voice, one large hand resting on the small of her back as he guided her away from the train and through the station, up the stairs, and into an awaiting black car.
“You realize you just threatened to murder a federal prosecutor,” Rhys noted as he tapped on the window separating them from the front seats. The driver pulled away from the curb.
“What of it?” Feyre asked. “Bare threats won't get you anywhere in court.”
“Maybe so, but if you do kill me, there are plenty of witnesses on the platform who could testify to your intent.”
“Good luck tracking them down when you’re dead,” Feyre said, holding Rhys’s gaze, his eyes twinkling in the dimness of the car.
Feyre almost smiled back at him, at the way words tripped so easily off her tongue whenever Rhys was around. But she swallowed the urge, instead rolling her eyes and slumping down in the leather seat, Rhys’s eyes tracking her every move. “Are you going to tell me if Agent Lapis is alright or not, or are you just going to press me for more information on—?”
Rhys lunged forward, his large hands covering her mouth. “No names until we get to the safe house.”
He waited for her to nod, his very large body taking up so much space as he hovered over her, the scent of salt and citrus enveloping her at his closeness.
Feyre struggled to suck down a breath, and it wasn't because Rhys was covering her mouth.
“Don’t you trust your driver?” Feyre asked when Rhys removed his hands, her body suddenly cold as he slid across the leather seat, back toward his side of the car.
“Of course I do,” Rhys said. “But we can’t be too careful. After Azriel’s attack, it’s best we take a little more care with our conversations, where we are, who sees us together.”
Feyre didn’t say anything, folding her arms over her chest.
Rhys blew out a breath. “Azriel is fine. He took a bad beating, but he’s had worse. He’ll be on his feet in another day or two, albeit with a few extra bruises.”
“And do you think it was—was—” Feyre pressed her lips together, unsure if she refrained from saying Tamlin’s name because of Rhys’s caution or because she still could barely fathom that someone she had thought she knew might sanction such violent behavior.
Rhys nodded curtly. “We’ll be there in ten minutes. We can talk then.”
The ten minutes passed quickly, Feyre mentally reviewing the information she had gathered in the past few days. She had managed to glean the location of Tamlin’s next business venture by going through his phone well past midnight the night before, slipping his phone from his nightstand and hiding away in the closet until she had found something, anything that might put a stop to everything Spring Solutions was doing.
Illyria was a pleasant enough town, if a little run down. The small main street the town car carried Feyre and Rhys down boasted a few cafes, a restaurant or two, and even a bar. Feyre caught sight of a bookstore, already closed for the evening, at the very end of the street, and something else that might have been an arts and crafts shop. She continued to observe as they left the main street and entered a series of residential neighborhoods, partly because she had never visited Illyria before, and partly because it gave her something to do in such a small space with Rhys mere inches away.
At last, the driver turned into a gated neighborhood full of quaint historical homes. The car pulled into the driveway of a red-brick home, two stories tall, with black shutters and white columns. Feyre unbuckled her seat belt as the car pulled around the back of the house, entirely out of sight of the street.
“Home sweet home,” Rhys said as Feyre rounded the car to stand next to him.
“Home?” she stammered, turning to stare up at him.
“One of them,” he said. “Once upon a time.”
Feyre narrowed her eyes as he strode up the back steps, producing a small key and unlocking the back door. He stepped back to let her enter first, and Feyre slid past him, her elbow brushing his stomach as she set foot on the dark wood floors.
Rhys followed her, flicking on a light switch, a warm glow flooding the hallway as Feyre delved further into the house.
Warm dark floors stretched down the long hallway that spanned from the back door directly to the front, the rooms of the first floor on either side of the hall. To her left was a small kitchen, with white appliances, light wood cabinets, and forest green tile backsplash. To her right was a closed door that she guessed led to a bedroom or office. Rhys ushered her toward the front of the house, gesturing to a small sitting room to their right. Across the hall from the sitting room was a small dining room. Both rooms boasted floor to ceiling, built-in shelves bursting with books and trinkets of all shapes and sizes.
Feyre settled herself onto a grey couch in the sitting room, gazing around the small space as Rhys ensured the curtains facing the street were drawn shut.
“This is your house?” Feyre asked as Rhys, satisfied with the curtains, crossed the plush red rug to the fireplace on the far wall, leaning down to start it with the push of a button. Flames danced to life in the hearth, Feyre’s brows raising at the sight. The house itself felt old, quaint. But the fixtures—the fireplace, the chandelier above them, even the appliances in the kitchen, were all quite modern.
“I grew up here,” Rhys said. “It was my mother’s house. My father didn’t want it—hasn’t been here in years—after she died. He gave it to me, told me to sell it if I wished. I thought about it for a while. It’s too far from the city for me to live in full-time. But I couldn’t stomach the thought of someone else living here. So I decided to keep it, update some of the appliances, the heating system, all that, thinking one day I would sell it for a higher price after all the improvements. But I… haven’t.”
“It’s lovely,” Feyre said.
Rhys gave a brisk grin, sitting down on the couch across from Feyre and clasping his hands between his knees. “Azriel and Mor should be down any minute.”
Feyre's brows creased, but Rhys shook his head. “Azriel’s staying here while he recuperates, and Mor arrived about an hour before us to check on him and make sure things were in order for this meeting. It's nothing... like that."
Feyre nodded, filing away the information for later.
They sat in comfortable silence while they awaited, and the creaking ceiling above Feyre told her Mor and Azriel were aware of the scheduled meeting and coming to meet them any second. Indeed, they emerged from the narrow staircase that occupied part of the central hallway, Azriel’s face several shades of black, blue, and yellow bruises.
“Gods above,” Feyre breathed, leaping to her feet and meeting Azriel halfway across the room. “Are you alright?” She asked, arms reaching toward him before she realized she wasn’t sure what to do with them.
But Azriel softly gripped her upper arms, his swollen lip breaking into a small smile. “I’m fine, Feyre. Occupational hazard.”
Feyre let Azriel lead her over to the couch after she greeted Mor, who had frozen in the hallway, gazing wide-eyed at Feyre and Azriel. At Feyre's "Hello," Mor swallowed, stepping into the living room at last.
“You were truly concerned for him,” Mor noted, taking a seat next to Rhys as Feyre forced Azriel to sit down first before she settled herself next to him.
Feyre folded her arms, glaring at Rhys. “Ask his Royal Highness the United States Attorney.”
“She threatened to kill me for making her wait this long,” Rhys admitted, eyes never leaving Feyre’s.
“Well, you’ve seen me. I’m fine,” Azriel said in that soft, but cutting, voice of his. “And I appreciate it, Feyre. I really do.”
Feyre tore her gaze from Rhys’s violet eyes and met Azriel’s hazel ones, nodding once before she strengthened her resolve.
“I know where Tamlin’s going next,” she announced.
----------------
One week later, the plans were arranged.
Cassian and Mor would board a plane for northern Washington State, hours after the private plane Lucien and Tamlin had chartered that would take them to the same place. The agents had arranged to rent a car to follow the two Spring Solutions higher-ups to the manufacturing plant that Tamlin had arranged a relationship with. Thanks to the vague map Feyre had found that first night of her sleuthing, the group had determined the estimated location of the exchange—the place Tamlin would accept responsibility for the non-compliant environmental materials. Then, the FBI Agents would trail whatever transport Tamlin had arranged until he either stored it or disposed of it. At that point, they hoped to have witnessed enough illegal activity that there would be plenty of cause to make an arrest—or at the very least to bring charges against Tamlin and Spring Solutions and end the illegal operation once and for all.
The plan made sense, despite the limited information it was based upon. The agents had planned everything to perfection. The intel Feyre had provided had allowed them to skirt the problem they had run into time and time again—because Tamlin and Lucien flew privately, under an ever-changing roster of company names other than Spring Solutions, and were careful to take nondescript vehicles to the private airport, it was difficult for the FBI to follow the duo when they jetted off to consult with their next client. But Feyre’s provision of the location had changed everything. The entire case might be resolved in less than a day.
Feyre, however, was pissed.
She had provided the information. She was the one who continued to stay with Tamlin, who still slept in his bed, in order to get this information for the FBI. And yet she hadn’t been invited to come along for the bust.
It was infuriating, and the worst kind of insult. She had spent the better part of an hour arguing with Rhys, Mor, and Azriel about it as they had discussed the information in Rhysand’s mother’s home that night a week ago.
It all came down to protocol, however, and civilians weren’t to be pulled into such dangerous surveillance activities if it was avoidable. And unfortunately, Feyre was a mole and nothing more. Cassian and Mor were the FBI agents, and they would be taking the lead in the investigation. Not even Rhysand was going.
Feyre lay on her couch, her casebooks unopened on the coffee table next to her as she stared at the clock on her phone. She was at least trusted enough to be told what time Cassian and Mor’s plane would be taking off—2:27 p.m.
Feyre rolled her eyes. What an honor.
The clock turned to 2:28, and she knew they were gone.
Feyre sighed, rolling off the couch and laying on the floor for a minute. Then two. Then three.
If they didn’t catch Tamlin—what then? How much longer would she need to stay here?
Feyre knew she could change her mind at any point. The FBI, and Rhysand, wouldn’t blame her. But what then? How could she live with herself knowing she had taken away the FBI’s only viable opportunity to bring down Spring Solutions?
No, Feyre didn’t have a choice. She was in this until Tamlin discovered her treachery or he was behind bars.
Eventually, Feyre peeled herself off the floor and padded through the empty apartment toward her closet.
Sure, it was 2:28 pm on a Friday, but Feyre didn’t have plans for the rest of the day.
Or the rest of the weekend.
So why not jump into her pajamas and read for her Corporations Law class until her eyes ceased focusing properly?
Feyre snorted at herself as she flicked on the light in the closet. Here she was, an informant for the FBI, a job that sounded so glamorous, so important, so mysterious.
And yet it was mid-afternoon on a Friday and Feyre was already shedding her bra for the day.
What was her life?
She sighed as she crossed to the enormous dresser against one of the walls of the closet. She shoved aside the suit jacket Tamlin had worn that morning, hastily discarded over the top of the dresser, the fabric emitting a faint crinkling sound as it hit the floor.
She had just reached into the drawer to retrieve the tattered old t-shirt and sweatpants that she slept in when she froze, slowly turning to gaze at the navy blazer, crumpled on the floor at her feet.
Because that crinkling sound. . . That wasn't just fabric.
Feyre knelt, sweatpants forgotten as she fished through the pockets of Tamlin’s jacket. A month ago, she wouldn’t have even considered doing this. Wouldn’t have been so hyperaware of everything having to do with her boyfriend, so anxious that the sound of what was probably a gum wrapper wouldn't have raised her hackles.
But a month ago, she hadn't known her boyfriend was a criminal mastermind.
Feyre drew out a small slip of paper from the inside breast pocket of the jacket.
It was a receipt.
A receipt for a set of plane tickets.
And in tiny black script across the top was the destination of those tickets, scheduled for that day, October 7th, at 10:53 a.m:
Dublin, Ireland.
Fuck.
---------
“Where the hell are you, Feyre?”
Rhysand’s voice was so loud in her phone speaker that Feyre actually held it several inches away from her ear as she responded.
“The airport…”
“You’re kidding. " Feyre heard what sounded like a door slamming in the background of the call. "You are actually calling me because you thought it would be fun to give me a heart attack as a prank, and you’re actually home right now, on your couch, watching The Nanny or whatever ridiculous show you and Mor were discussing the other night in Illyria. You’re not at the airport about to board a flight to Dublin because your boyfriend purposefully set a red herring in case anyone was on his tail.”
Feyre didn’t respond, just smiled at the woman manning the security line Feyre currently stood in, shedding her shoes with her one available hand, the other holding her phone to her ear.
“Feyre. Tell me I’m right. Tell me you’re not at the airport.”
“Can’t, sorry. Oh, hold on, gotta send my phone through the x-ray machine thing.”
Feyre ignored Rhys’s protests, placing her phone on the x-ray belt, call with Rhys still active, before she stepped into the line to go through the human scanning machine.
It was at least five minutes before she made it through the line and retrieved her stuff from the security belt. To her surprise, Rhys was still on the line when she retrieved her phone.
“Turn around right now. What are you planning to do when you get to Ireland? Find Tamlin and confront him yourself?”
“Of course not!” Feyre exclaimed, checking the departures board and smiling as she saw that her flight was right on time, although in her eagerness to get to the airport, she had arrived much too early. She had at least an hour before boarding the flight that would take her from Prythian to New York, where she would transfer to a flight to Ireland. “I just want to follow him and record everything he does.”
Except for vague background noise, and something that sounded like the rumble of traffic, the line remained quiet for several long moments.
“I swear, Feyre Archeron, if I die before I turn thirty, it’ll be because of you and this gods-damned case.”
“You’ll thank me later!” Feyre said brightly, and hung up the phone.
An hour later, Feyre had shuffled toward her gate with the rest of those boarding her flight to New York. She had spent the last hour consuming two glasses of wine at the airport bar, her productivity while reading for her Environmental Law class sharply declining as her glass emptied. Her original intention had been to stick with one small glass of wine so that she might fall asleep more easily on her flight.
But after half an hour of staring at her textbook, a sizable pit had formed deep in her stomach. Was she truly flying to Ireland for the weekend? Chasing Tamlin halfway across the world to—to what? To make up for the fact that she had fallen for the red herring Tamlin had left in his emails, had given the FBI wrong information, and sent them in the complete opposite direction of Tamlin’s true destination? She had nowhere to stay when she got to Ireland, no idea where to start on finding transport to whatever location Tamlin had arranged his rendezvous.
So Feyre had ordered another glass of wine, and downed most of it in the last ten minutes before her flight started boarding.
Thus the world had taken on a softer light, a slower quality that had loosened Feyre’s shoulders so much that she didn’t even care about the nearby toddler who had been crying for the last half hour, or the strong smell of weed emitting from the woman in front of her, or the enormous man who was standing a little too close to her, smelling of citrus and the sea and—
Feyre whirled around.
“What are you doing here?” She demanded when her eyes met violet ones, the intensity of Rhys’s gaze reminding her of her tipsiness.
“You thought I was going to let you run off to Ireland by yourself?”
Feyre bit her lip, suddenly wishing she hadn’t had that second glass of wine. Rhys was so poised, dressed in his signature black suit, pressed to perfection even after what must have been a long day at work. The shadow of a beard graced the lower half of his face, and his sea salt scent caressed her, pulling her closer. . .
Feyre blinked once. Then twice, reaching an arm out to steady herself against one of the barriers used to corral the boarding line.
Rhys's eyes narrowed. “Are you—drunk?” He asked, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice.
Feyre folded her arms. “I’m not drunk,” she insisted. “I had a two glasses of wine.”
“You can barely stand up straight,” Rhys noted, pocking her shoulder with a finger.
Feyre flashed her palms up at the prosecutor. “I’m fine, see? I was having a perfectly wonderful time until you decided to show up and crash my spontaneous trip to a foreign country.” She didn't mention the wave of relief that was sweeping through her even now, as she realized she wouldn't be leaving the country for the first time all by herself.
“Did you tell Mor and Cassian?” She asked, changing the subject, although the creeping grin on Rhys’s face told her he wouldn't let this go anytime soon.
And for some reason, Feyre didn’t mind that he found her amusing.
Tamlin would have told her she was being unprofessional, would have chastised her for doing something as unsafe as getting a little tipsy in the safety of an airport. Even though he and Lucien drank during their own travels, Tamlin would see Feyre’s unsteadiness as a weakness, something she should only do with him around.
And while Rhys was laughing at her, she didn’t feel . . . judged. Teased, yes, and perhaps a little embarrassed. But not ashamed.
Rhys gave a curt nod. “They’re staying the night in Washington and flying back tomorrow. Weather conditions are awful up there, so no planes, even private ones, are going up until the morning.”
“Will they fly over to meet us?” Feyre asked, falling into step beside Rhys as the line started moving, bringing them closer and closer to the gate.
Rhys shook his head. “If this trip is as short as Tamlin told you it would be, by the time they got to Ireland, they would have to board the plane to come back again.”
“So we’re on our own,” Feyre muttered, allowing the flight attendant to scan her boarding pass.
“We’re on our own,” Rhys echoed as they stepped onto the jetway.
------
It was a very long night. Feyre slept for most of both of their flights, occasionally waking up to turbulence or to use the restroom or eat the snacks the flight attendants provided. Every time she did, Rhys was a solid presence next to her, wide awake and reading through various legal documents on his laptop, his privacy screen preventing her from glimpsing much. If he slept at all, Feyre never saw it.
When they touched down in Dublin, Feyre jolted awake, something soft against her temple. She looked up, blinking the sleep from her eyes as she met Rhys’s stare.
“Sleep well?” Rhys asked, shifting in his seat, the movement jostling her.
She reared back, tearing her forehead from where it had been resting on Rhys’s shoulder. “Yes, I—I did,” she said, sure her cheeks were burning bright red. She had slept on his shoulder. Had probably drooled all over him while he read his professional legal documents and thought of her as a very silly, very impulsive young law student. “Sorry,” she said, running a hand through her hair.
But Rhys only shrugged, folding up his laptop and sliding it into the backpack beneath the seat in front of him. “No need to apologize. I’m positive my shoulder is much more comfortable than the window.”
Feyre huffed out a breath, a grin tugging at her cheek as she thought about just how muscular Rhys's shoulder was—if it was more comfortable than the window, it was only by a margin.
“What time is it?” She asked.
“Dublin time?” Rhys looked at his watch, Feyre’s eyes tracking the flick of his wrist. “About seven am. . . Prythian time? Two am. What time did you say Tamlin’s meeting was?”
“Not until this afternoon—two or three.”
“Plenty of time to find a hotel, then, because someone decided to come all the way over here without a plan,” Rhys said, his fingers gripping her chin lightly for a fleeting moment, his lips pursing as he gazed down at her.
“Come on, Night,” Feyre said, following him from their seats and out into the aisle. “Live a little.”
Feyre regretted those words two hours later, after the only hotel with a vacancy they could find had one room available--with only one bed.
“Are you sure you don’t have anything else? We’ll even take a bed and a pull-out couch,” Feyre pleaded with the receptionist, who was so busy staring as Rhysand that Feyre doubted the woman even heard her question.
“What was it you said to me on the plane, Feyre darling?” Rhys asked, glancing down at her from the corner of his eye, his fingers tapping on the front desk. “Live a little?”
Feyre groaned, exhaustion tugging at her limbs, at her very soul, despite the sleep she had managed to find on the plane. “Fine.” She snatched the keys out of Rhys’s hand and stomped over to the elevator, arms crossed.
“I can sleep on the floor,” Rhys offered as Feyre led the way down the hall, her suitcase rattling behind her.
“That’s ridiculous,” Feyre said. “It’s a king bed. Plenty of space.”
What was she saying? No amount of bed space would be enough if she was sharing it with Rhys. He was so . . . all-consuming. Feyre could feel him behind her even now, though she knew he was several feet away.
She unlocked their room, Rhys’s arm sliding above her head to hold the door so she could drag her suitcase inside.
"Thank you," she said quietly, swallowing at the gesture.
Neither of them spoke as they took turns in the bathroom, each taking a quick shower to rinse off the travel. Feyre let Rhys go first, insisting that she had to call her father anyway. But instead of calling, she sat on her side of the bed and thought about what Tamlin would say if he knew she was sharing a hotel room with another man.
Even if her relationship with Tamlin had an expiration date, even if it was over in Feyre’s mind . . . It wasn’t over in Tamlin’s.
Sharing a bed with Rhys, sleeping on his shoulder, flirting with him . . . It was one of the worst betrayals, no matter what Tamlin had or had not done. She knew her boyfriend would be livid if he knew about what she was doing with Rhys. Even if nothing had happened between them, even if Feyre wasn’t sure she felt anything more than sexual attraction for the federal prosecutor who had suddenly turned her entire life upside down... It was wrong.
Even if being with Rhys brought out a side to her that had long been dormant. She spent all of her time with Tamlin and Lucien these days.
How long had it been since she had joked with a new friend? Spent time with someone who shared her interests, her career path? Done something just because she wanted to?
She had booked an international flight without a second thought, for crying out loud.
She had never done something like that before.
And Rhys had followed. With some grumbling, yes, but he hadn’t tried to drag her out of the airport or convince her to change her mind.
And perhaps he cared more about indicting Tamlin than he did about Feyre’s safety, but . . . Feyre couldn’t shake the feeling that Rhys understood just how badly she wanted to see Tamlin pay for his actions. That he understood the guilt that clawed at her in the middle of the night, the guilt that told her she should have seen it, should have recognized that there was something fishy about Tamlin’s business, should have done something long ago to stop it, something that might have prevented what Rhys’s sister had endured…
Feyre was startled out of her spiraling thoughts by the sound of the bathroom door swinging open, Rhysand emerging in nothing but black sweats, his hair still damp from the shower.
Feyre’s mouth went dry.
“I, ah, left my shirt out here,” Rhys offered, crossing the room to his suitcase, every muscle on display.
Feyre bit her lip at the sight of his cheeks, which had turned every-so-slightly pink, before she averted her gaze.
She didn’t say anything, simply grabbing her stuff and shutting the bathroom door behind her.
Tamlin would certainly object to the sight of a shirtless Rhysand.
Feyre took a very, very cold shower.
---
Taglist:
@rhysiedarling @shedoessoshedoes @popjunkie42 @adreamof-spring @that-little-red-head @witch-and-her-witcher @cinnamonmelody @azrielover @1islessthan3books @jenahid @toporecall @martzja @marinated-fish @riribbonss @tunaababee @acourtofbatboydreams @clockworkgraystairs @muaddib-iswriting @queenofdivas
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Cassian: We're not leaving this room till we figure out this whole will they, won't they, 'Kermit and Miss Piggy' thing we got going on.
Nesta: Wait, sorry, am I Kermit or…
Cassian: Yeah, 'cause you're smart with skinny legs and I'm Miss Piggy because I'm a star.
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manueillustrations · 2 days
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Rhysand et Feyre, de l'univers #acotar dansent dans la nuit, enlacés et complètement dans leur bulle. Note: Ça faisait des mois que je souhaitais finir cette esquisse, que j'avais fait en doodle il y a déjà 2 ans.
Rhysand and Feyre, from the #acotar universe, dance into the night, embracing and completely in their own bubble.
Note: I'd been wanting to finish this sketch for months, which I'd done as a doodle 2 years ago.
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the-darkestminds · 2 days
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Respect to Feyre for letting Elain have her privacy when it comes to her feelings about Lucien bc if it were me and my sister I would be so up in her business demanding to know why she didn’t like him 🤚
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Rhys: Nesta, you'll be working with Azriel and Cassian.
Nesta: Alright! My fantasy threesome!
Everyone else: *blank stares*
Nesta: ... of people on a team.
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elriell · 2 months
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“And now I want you to know, Rhysand, that I love you. I want you to know … ” His lips trembled, and I brushed away the tear that escaped down his cheek. “I want you to know,” I whispered, “that I am broken and healing, but every piece of my heart belongs to you. And I am honored—honored to be your mate.”
Thank you to all 10k of you who have joined me on this journey, I thought it no better celebration than to post this phenomenal Feysand art by the greatest @lulybot 🤍🤍🤍
It was near impossible to pick my favourite Feysand quote, what would yours be?
All characters belong to @sarahjmaas ✨
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What if I told you that Rainy Season’s Final Chapter is dropping tonight and that it’s like 6k words??? 👀
****in the meantime, check out my new fic Wicked Felina (The Girl That I Love) and brace yourself for a plot twist at the end. There will likely be a second part with an explanation later on
Summary: A village whispers of a beautiful, wicked female with eyes blacker than night. When she draws in Azriel for a one-night stand, a mating bond snaps and he becomes obsessed. She is HIS. After catching her with another male, Azriel kills the male, eventually leading to his own death. Only Felina can save him. Will she?
Rhys and Cassian are broken at the passing of their brother. Cassian saw the female screaming over Azriel as he died, begging him to get help. The female who felt so familiar, so captivating.
If only Rhys could find Azriel’s body. If only he could find the mysterious female.
It’s only a matter of time before her secrets are revealed.
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Feyre: if you take me from my mate, I’ll destroy your court and everything you hold dear
Tamlin: takes Feyre from her mate
Feyre: destroys his court and everything he holds dear
Tamlin:
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