I Want To See Mama Too⎥part One

I LOVE THIS SM AJSDHFASJDFG

Of Duty and Desire | Chapter 2 | Neteyam x Metkayina!reader

A/N: Thank you so much for the love I got on the first part 🥰 and thank you for your patience waiting for this one. I hope y’all enjoy it, and while you’re waiting for the next part, allow me to shamelessly plug my other finished fic here.

5.2k words, which in the words of my roommate @britany1997 “you write long ass fics.” (I know, Brit, I know)

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

It had now been over a year since the Sullys' arrival in the reef, and you couldn't imagine your life without them anymore. Tuk was as good at diving as any Metkayina child her age. You and Lo'ak bonded over your ongoing friendly competition over who was the better ilu rider (you were, but he was getting better everyday). Kiri had truly blossomed in the reef, and nobody treated her differently anymore.

But out of the four of them, Neteyam was the one you felt closest to. Even though you enjoyed laughing and joking together, you both understood what it meant to have a responsibility to your clan, a sense of duty to your people. It was a shared experience that was part of the reason you had become friends so quickly. When you would feel overwhelmed or frustrated by the high expectations of your parents or Ronal, he was always there to listen and cheer you up.

On warmer nights, when you felt stressed, you would sneak out to enjoy the peace of the water on the beach alone. You spent so much of your day busy with things to do that you felt as though you rarely had a moment of peace with yourself.

On one such night, you walked along the edge of the beach before settling down in the sand, the waves of the water gently lapping at your feet. The night air was warm, and you lay back on the sand to look up at the stars. You stayed like that for some time before the sound of crunching sand behind you broke the peaceful silence.

You sat up quickly in alarm and found that it was Neteyam walking along the beach. He seemed just as surprised at finding you there on the beach by yourself. "You startled me," you told him as he drew near. "And you startled me," he countered. "I didn't think I would find anyone out so late." You hummed and explained, "I couldn't sleep." He sat down in the sand next to you. "Nor could I," he replied. "Do you often come out at night?"

You shrugged and leaned back on your hands. "Sometimes," you admitted. "I enjoy looking at the stars." Neteyam looked up at the clear night sky. He searched for a while before a slow smile appeared on his face. "Do you see that one there?" He asked, pointing at a star. You looked after him, but you weren't sure which he was referring to. "Which one?" You questioned.

He moved in close next to you, bringing his face right up next to yours. His shoulder leaned against yours as he lifted a hand to point at the sky. "There," he said softly as he pointed at a star flickering above. "The yellowish one." You stared up at where he pointed and noticed the yellow star he was referring to. "I see it," you said quietly with a small smile.

You turned your head to look at him, and you suddenly became aware of how close he was to you. Neteyam seemed to have the same realization because he pulled away gently and looked away self-consciously. "My father came from there," he explained as he looked back at the sky. "That very star."

You looked back up at the flickering light in amazement. "That is incredible," you whispered. "Your father is legendary amongst the Na'vi." He shrugged nonchalantly. "It is hard to see him as such when I have seen him embarrass himself countless times," he told you with a wry grin.

You suppressed a laugh. "I suppose to you, he is just your father," you mused. He smiled down at you. "Everyone sees him as this fearless leader," he explained, and his voice suddenly became very somber. "But I know what really scares him." You watched him expectantly, trying to think of all the great beasts that could inspire fear in such a renowned warrior. Then, with a sly smirk, he leaned in close and whispered, "My mother."

That time, he actually did make you laugh. "Tonowari is the same," you told him, and Neteyam nodded emphatically. "That is understandable. Ronal is very formidable," he said. You shrugged your shoulders casually. "She's not so bad," you defended. Your mother was a lifelong friend of the tsahik, and you had become very familiar with Ronal and developed a better understanding of her strict demeanor during your time as her apprentice.

Neteyam shot you a disbelieving look. You sighed before admitting, "She is formidable, yes, but she is very loyal and fiercely protective." You sifted the sand between your fingers and looked up at him with a smirk. "But I see how she can be scary. Even Tonowari thinks so."

Neteyam chuckled at you. "Something about the role of Olo'eyktan seems to attract fearsome mates," he observed humorously. You hummed in amusement. "I hope I will inspire the same fear in Aonung one day," you joked.

You weren't quite sure what it was, but you sensed a slight shift in Neteyam's demeanor. It was the prolonged silence between your statement and his reply, almost as if you had unwittingly said the wrong thing. You looked over at him, but when he glanced back, he offered a faint smile. "Perhaps you will," he said finally. "But for now, I have to admit, you don't seem very intimidating."

You scoffed lightheartedly and tossed some sand at him. "How dare you," you told him with false offense. "I will be even more fearsome than Ronal and your mother combined." He chuckled at your theatrics and brushed the sand off of his arm. "If that is true, then you will be like a palulukan," he stated.

You tilted your head at him in confusion. "A palulukan?" you echoed questioningly. Neteyam seemed to remember that the fierce, feline creature he spoke of did not live around the reef, and therefore you had no knowledge of it. "Palulukan, the bringer of fear," he explained. "They are large, dangerous predators in the forest. There is nothing they are afraid of, and there is nothing that is not afraid of them."

You smiled thoughtfully at his words. "That does sound fearsome," you conceded. "And I thought the ikran were intimidating." Neteyam huffed in amusement. "They certainly can be," he agreed. "But they are excellent companions when they're bonded." You hummed in consideration and replied, "That doesn't make them any less intimidating."

Neteyam was staring at you with a thoughtful face, a slow smile forming on his face. "Would you like to see them?" He asked mischievously. You looked over at him quizzically. "Right now?" You clarified. He shrugged, his lips still turned up in a grin. "Sure," he replied. "But we don't have to if you'd rather not."

You felt your own lips twist into a smile. You had wanted to see the great beasts the Sullys flew up close since they first arrived, but for some reason, you had felt a little awkward about asking them. Now, you finally had an invitation to go.

"I would love to see them," you told Neteyam sincerely. He stood up eagerly and held his hand out to you. You took it, and the two of you headed over to where they kept their ikran. The great, flying creatures preferred to stay up on the rocky precipices above the water, so the two of you had to walk quite a distance, but neither of you minded when you were in each other's company.

When you made it to the base of the cliff, Neteyam made a strange calling sound that carried up the side of the rock. After a moment, you saw the silhouette of his ikran glide over the edge of the cliff and settle down in front of you. You couldn't help but laugh in amazement as Neteyam stepped forward to greet his ikran.

"Do not look at his eyes," he warned as you approached carefully. You averted your gaze obediently and instead focused on the size of its powerful wings. "He is beautiful," you told him earnestly. "You chose well."

He chuckled as he stroked his ikran's neck. "He chose me," he corrected you. "Ikran are not like ilu or skimwings. They only bond with one rider. It is one of the trials of the Omatikaya." You listened attentively as you wandered around the ikran in admiration. "It must be very difficult," you noted as his ikran rustled its wings a few times. He huffed in amusement and muttered, "Very."

You wanted to touch the ikran, but you hesitated, not wanting to agitate it by accident. As though he could read your mind, Neteyam offered you a reassuring smile. "You can touch him," he told you. Giving him a quick glance, you carefully reached out and brushed your hand along its leathery skin.

His ikran snapped its head to look at you, causing you to jerk your hand back quickly. Neteyam chuckled at your reaction. Coming up behind you, he placed his hand on the back of yours and brought it back up to the body of his ikran, guiding your hand over its smooth, green skin.

You gave a small laugh of amazement. Under your palm, you could feel its tense muscles around its wings. "He is very strong," you observed. Neteyam hummed quietly in response right beside ear.

You turned your head to face him better. Even in the dim light, you could make out every detail of his face, the pattern of the stars on his face and his amber eyes that seemed to glow. In the silence between you, he seemed to be studying your face as well, his eyes flicking back and forth between your own.

Neteyam seemed to pull himself out if his thoughts. He withdrew his hand from yours and stepped back to stroke the head if his ikran. You ran your hand over the leathery wings as you took a moment to shake yourself out of your thoughts as well.

"It was a startling sight when your family first arrived," you said, finally breaking the silence. "Few of us had ever seen Na'vi fly in the sky." He smiled over at you thoughtfully. "Would you like to fly?" He asked, his corners of his lips turned upwards playfully.

You turned to him in surprise. "Are you being serious?" You questioned skeptically. He shrugged. "If you'd like," he replied simply. "We already came all the way out here." You looked back at the powerful creature beneath your palm, and you couldn't deny the excitement you felt at his proposal.

"Are you sure?" You asked nervously. "Is it safe?" Neteyam's face softened as he smiled at you. "I will keep you safe," he assured you. "I promise."

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, and looking up in his face, you knew he would keep his word. "Okay," you said softly, then added playfully, "but you better not let me fall." He laughed at you. "I won't," he promised.

Attaching his queue to his ikran, Neteyam hoisted himself up on its back. He held out his hand to you, and after a brief hesitation, you took it. He pulled you up to sit on the space behind him. Since there was no saddle to sit on, you drew yourself close to Neteyam's back.

"The takeoff will be the worst part," he warned over his shoulder. "Just hold on to me, I won't let you fall." You wrapped your arms around his torso and replied softly, "Okay." The ikran crawled away to the edge of the cliff. "Ready?" Neteyam asked, and you could tell by his voice that he was smiling. Wrapping your arms tighter, you replied, "Ready."

His ikran lurched upwards and quickly began beating its wings. The sudden movement made you gasp and squeeze Neteyam's torso even tighter. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you were almost starting to regret agreeing to this, but almost as quickly as it started, the frantic flapping stopped.

The wind was rushing through your hair as you glided gently through the air. The wings of the ikran moved gently to maintain its height, but it was not as hard or as fast as when it left the ground. After the startling takeoff, you couldn't help but laugh in giddy delight over the thrilling feeling of being in the air.

Neteyam cast a quick look over his shoulder at you and returned your wide smile. He held your thigh securely as his ikran turned right over the water. You could see the reflections of the stars above you in the water below. Neteyam brought his ikran just above the surface of the water, its wings barely skimming the top.

You marveled at the feeling of flying. The warm air felt cool as it rushed around you. The world seemed to be moving slowly around you. You felt your stomach flutter as you swooped upwards, and you began climbing through the air again.

"This is incredible!" You shouted over the sound of the wind. Neteyam laughed in response. "Not like an ilu, right?" he called out. You laughed too before replying, "Not at all."

You continued rising through the air steadily, and when you leveled out, you gasped at the sight below you. Everything was so beautiful. The bioluminescent plants below lit up the village, and the sea was sparkling with the light of the stars.

You leaned your cheek against Neteyam's back as you took in the image of everything under you. It was so incredible that, for a moment, you thought that maybe you were dreaming, but you knew this couldn't be the case. You never could have come up with this feeling in your sleep, and the rushing air around you and the warmth of Neteyam's body against yours was too real to be a dream.

You weren't sure how long you were both in the air, but it didn't feel like long enough. Eventually, Neteyam had his ikran settle down on the beach right at the edge of the village before he leapt down off its back. He took you by the hand and helped you dismount easily.

"That was exhilarating!" You gushed in excitement. He grinned at you and admitted, "I was worried you were going to back out last minute." You pushed him playfully. "Not me," You laughed. "I wasn't going to miss out on being the first of the Metkayina to fly!"

He chuckled at your giddy bravado. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he said. "It's easy for me to take flying for granted." You shook your head in amazement and sighed. "Thank you," you told him, staring up at him earnestly. "It was very generous of you to take me." He had a soft smile as he gazed down at you. "It was nothing," he replied gently. "If you ever want to go again, just ask." You grinned and nodded. "I'd like that," you said softly.

A brief silence settled over the two of you as you looked up into his face. In the same way as earlier that night, you found yourself studying his face again. His smile was contagious, and the way his eyes looked down at you so softly made your face grow warm.

After a moment, Neteyam sighed reluctantly. "It is getting late," he mentioned. "I think it would be best for us to go home." You closed your eyes and sighed as well. You knew that he was right and that you should do the same.

He gave his ikran an affectionate pat before disconnecting his queue. His ikran took to the skies, blowing the sand as he flapped away. You both watched for a moment before turning back to the village.

Neteyam walked quietly back with you to your home, careful not to disturb anyone around. When you arrived, you turned back to face him. "I will see you tomorrow," he whispered softly. You couldn't suppress the smile on your face as you responded, "I will see you then."

You watched for a moment as he walked away, still wearing a faint smile on your face. As you settled into bed, you replayed the night in your head. You could still feel the rush of wind on your face, the warmth of his body against your own, and you could hear his laugh ringing through your head.

You stared at the canopy above you for a long time, growing more and more perplexed. Neteyam was a close friend, and you had always thought he was kind and intelligent, but now, your thoughts were wandering back to the feeling of your face resting against his back, his steadying grip on your thigh as you swooped over the water, and the way he looked at you in the silent moments between laughs.

What perplexed you was that you found yourself missing his touch, missing his presence. You wanted to hear more stories about the forest and to see his face light up as he told them. You wanted to hold him close again as you flew into the late night sky.

Worst of all, you felt a faint, dangerous desire growing in you hoping that he felt the same way.

A welcome distraction came the following week after your late-night adventure with Neteyam. With the water growing warmer again, you and your clan were overjoyed to welcome the return of the tulkun. Along with the rest of the Metkayina, the day that they returned, you spent hours in the water with your spirit sister, Tanati. She was a talented storyteller, and she regaled you with her adventures away from the reef.

Every year with the return of the tulkun, the Metkayina held a great feast at night. All along the beach, there were several fires lit. A great supply of food was provided, and the night was to be filled with music and dancing. Everybody dressed in their finest clothing, and you even changed your hairstyle for the occasion.

This was your favorite time of the year. The whole clan was buzzing with excitement as they prepared for the feast. Being reconnected with Tanati brought you so much joy, and the happiness of the rest of the clan made it all the sweeter.

You sat with Tonowari's family as you all began eating. A wide variety of fish and vegetables as well as sweet nectar from the tropical plants on shore were all distributed among the people. You laughed with the Sully children, Tsireya, and other friends as you ate in the diminishing light of the evening.

After a short interlude of time to eat, Tonowari stood up, drawing the attention of the rest of the clan. "Tonight," he called out loudly for everyone to hear, "we celebrate the return of our tulkun brothers and sisters!" Cheers rose up from the masses. As they died away, he continued, "We are reminded of the cycle of life, and we celebrate new life as well as the lives of those who have gone on to be with our Great Mother."

There was a brief silence as everyone reflected on his words. Both the Na'vi and the tulkun had celebrated the births of children as well as mourned the deaths of loved ones in the community that year, but it was important that the balance of life be honored and celebrated, especially on a night like this.

"Now," Tonowari said, "let us sing and dance in celebration to honor our tulkun family." More cheers rose up from the people, and soon after, drums began pounding in the open air.

As the music began, you perked up. The opening song was an easy dance for everyone to join. You grabbed Neteyam's arm in excitement. "You must join us!" You said eagerly, pulling him gently as you stood up. He let out a small laugh and shook his head. "I don't know these dances," he pointed out, resisting your pulling.

You gave an imploring smile. "This is easy!" you explained. "Just watch." He didn't budge, but he looked up at you with a playful grin. "I will watch," he agreed before adding, "from here." People were already lining up to begin the dance, and since you didn't want to miss out, you dropped his arm with an exaggerated sigh and rolled your eyes with a smile.

Before leaving, you held a hand out to Kiri. "Join me," you offered her pleadingly. After a brief hesitation, she grabbed your hand and skipped across the sand to join in the dance. As you all began moving, you demonstrated the fluid motion of the dance to her, your arms moving around you and your body rocking in a motion that imitated the pull of the sea waves.

As you danced, you didn't see the Omatikayan boy staring at you. He had a soft smile on his face as he watched you dancing with his sister, admiring your graceful movements in time with the drums. He almost regretted not following after you to dance, but he enjoyed a better view from where he was sitting. While watching you, he didn't notice his mother's discerning gaze watching him instead.

As the night wore on, the dancing continued. You hardly stopped, only taking the occasional break to catch your breath. Neteyam's eyes always followed you as you dance. You were practically glowing as you moved, and he marveled at how you looked in the flickering light of the fires adorned in your pretty accessories with your new hairstyle.

At one point, Aonung took you to dance. The two of you were facing across from each other in a line. Neteyam stared hard as the two of you mirrored each other's movements in time with the music. You were beaming as you twirled in the sand, and Aonung seemed to reflect your delight. Neteyam watched you dance with him for entire song, unable to tear his eyes away from you, and Neytiri didn't miss it.

Later on, you sat out a song to catch your breath. You wandered over to where the Sullys sat. Tsireya was already seated next to Lo'ak and was explaining the significance of the moves to him. You sat down beside her, breathing heavily from all of your dancing in the sand.

Neteyam moved to sit on the other side of you. "You have not danced once," you scolded him playfully. "Even Lo'ak joined in." It was true. Tsireya had actually managed to convince him to join her in the sand, though he moved awkwardly as he tried imitating the motion of the dance.

"Believe me," he said, "watching that from here was much more enjoyable than joining in." You laughed at his words. "At least he's joining in the celebration," you retorted playfully. Neteyam didn't respond, he just smiled at your joking attitude.

The dance ended, and the participants and onlookers alike laughed and cheered. After a brief respite, the musicians began a new song. You nudged Neteyam's arm gently. "The night is nearly over," you said. "This is your last chance."

He looked at you, and you saw a slow smile spread across his face. Without saying a word, he held his hand out to you. You beamed and took it immediately. Standing up together, you headed over to where the line was forming. "I still don't know the dance," he told you with a grin. You laughed and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go to move across from him. "Just copy what I do," you said.

This particular song was slower, and so it was easier for him to follow along. With every step, every turn, and every move, his eyes stayed intently focused on you. He mirrored your movement almost perfectly, and you smiled as you drew close together. In the dim evening light, his face was illuminated by the fires around you, and his normally yellowish eyes were almost a flame-colored orange

The same flustered feeling you had felt the previous week began fluttering in your chest. Your movements were automatic as you became transfixed on Neteyam. He seemed to be a faster learner than Lo'ak when it came to dancing because his movements were fluid and almost perfectly in time with yours. Watching him perform the Metkayina dances so well made you beam with pride, and you felt as though nobody else was present but the two of you.

The whole time, Neteyam's enchanting smile never wavered, and you hardly realized when the dance had ended. The two of you stood in the sand for a few moments, slightly winded and grinning widely. The sight of the other dancers walking away from the open dancing space pulled you out of your daze finally, and together, you and Neteyam headed back to where his family was sitting and his mother was watching closely.

You sighed happily as you plopped down in the sand besides Tsireya. She nudged you playfully, and you nudged her back with a grin. On your other side, Neteyam sat down with a quiet grunt. "I thought you said it was my last chance," he said cheekily, nodding at the next round of dancers lining up in the sand.

"This dance is for mated couples only," you explained. "It will be over soon. Then, we will sing together before the celebration is finished." He nodded his understanding at you, his eyes fixated on the dancing couples on the sand.

"This is a wonderful tradition," he said earnestly. "I only watched from a distance last year." You followed where his eyes were fixed on the moving figures. "It is one of my favorite nights of the year," you admitted with a sight of contentment. He glanced back at you with a soft smile and said, "I understand why."

The dancing came to an end at that moment, and all of the couples returned to where their groups were seated. Ronal stepped up at the center of the beach with all eyes on her expectantly. After a few moments of quiet, she opened her mouth and sang the opening verse to the Song of Thankfulness.

As her clear, melodic voice rang out, you and the other women joined in the song, repeating the same line. Eventually, the deeper voices of the men joined in the song. There were no instruments used, it was all just a chorus of voices that carried across the beach. You closed your eyes and lifted your face to the stars as you sang, absorbing the moment of peace and happiness with your people.

As the song came to an end, you opened your eyes reluctantly, not wanting the night to end. From the corner of your eye, you could see Neteyam watching you, but when you turned to look at him, his gaze quickly darted away. From your other side, Tsireya moved to stand, and you knew it was time for everyone to retreat back to their homes.

"Good night," you told Neteyam quietly as you began to stand up. He quickly jumped up from his sitting position and offered his hand to you. With a soft smile, you accepted it, and he pulled you up gently from the sand. As you stood up, he held onto your hand for a beat and gazed down at you, the dying fire casting flickering shadows across his face. "Good night," he said finally and let go of your hand.

You missed the feeling of his touch immediately, and you were grateful that it was too dark for him to see your face blushing. You managed to pull your attention away Neteyam and turned to the rest of his family. Lo'ak and Kiri were also standing to their feet to go home. Tuk had fallen asleep long ago and was being carried by her father while Neytiri watched closely as you turned away from Neteyam.

"Good night," you told them with a polite nod. The weariness of dancing was finally affecting you, and you were eager to fall asleep. They all bid you goodnight in return, and you turned and walked back to where your family was waiting.

The Sullys headed back to their own place. After all of their children were tucked away to sleep, Neytiri gave her mate a squeeze on the shoulder and motioned with her head to the entrance of their tent. Understanding her silent request, Jake followed her outside.

Outside of their tent, Neytiri turned to face him. "You need to speak to your son before he does something stupid," she whispered to him in English in case any of the Metkayina were nearby. Jake raised an eyebrow in confusion. "You're gonna have to be more specific," he responded quietly. Neytiri made a disapproving face. "Your eldest," she clarified. "He has grown very fond of the tsakarem girl."

Jake let out a little sigh. He had noticed his son's affection for you as well, but he hadn't really considered it particularly urgent. "What do you want me to do?" He asked. Neytiri stepped closer to him and spoke in a low voice. "He needs to—" she paused to find the right word in English. "He needs to separate from her."

Jake gave her an uncomfortable look. He knew that you had been very kind to all of his children, and he didn't like the idea of pushing you away from his family. Neytiri caught the meaning in his face and turned away from him in mild exasperation. "She is tsakarem," she whispered insistently. "She is spoken for. This can only end badly."

After a moment, Jake's lips pulled upwards in a sly grin. He hummed thoughtfully and walked up behind his mate, sliding his arms around her waist and pulling her against his chest. "I think I've heard this story before," he whispered teasingly in her ear. "A young warrior from a strange land being welcomed into a new life, learning new customs, meeting a pretty tsakarem who is spoken for."

Despite herself, Neytiri began smiling softly as Jake nuzzled her cheek affectionately. "In fact, I remember falling in love with you on a night like tonight," he said gently. "It didn't turn out so bad for us, did it?"

She sighed reluctantly. "This is different," she insisted quietly. Jake gave a light chuckle. "How?" He questioned. Neytiri opened her mouth to answer, but she found that anything she could say about her son was almost identical to the situation she had lived through herself, and for the first time, she could truly understand the headache she probably gave her parents all those years ago.

"We are here under uturu," she said finally. "If something happens, they can revoke their shelter, and we will all be in danger again." Jake sighed, knowing that she was right. "I will speak to him," he conceded quietly.

Neytiri nodded without reply. After a moment, she muttered, "He gets it from you. You are a bad influence." Jake chuckled again. "Charm and good looks are the Sully curse," he said as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

Neytiri's mouth twisted in a grin at his words. They both stood there for a while with Jake holding her from behind. Even though they didn't say it, they were both reflecting on the beginning of their relationship, him being a strange foreigner and her being betrothed to another man.

Despite the fact that he was going to try to discourage Neteyam from being with you, Jake couldn't help but feel that if his son was anything like him, he wasn't going to listen.

Chapter 3

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Taglist: @mashiromochi @eywas-heir @kafanizdakicokiyi @plzfeedmebread @peachinsomnia

✎ LGBT Sanrio Icons ˊˎ-

╰┈➤ Lesbian Pompompurin, Gay Chococat, Bisexual Kuromi, Pansexual Hello Kitty, Transgender Cinnamoroll, Nonbinary Badtz-Maru

like/reblog if you use!

something something your friends howling with laughter when you send “john mactavish — the better john” back to the table he shares with a bunch of wide shouldered sorts with a careless “sorry, i prefer my “johns” with experience” after a cursory up-and-down over his body.

those same friends staring slack-jawed when an absolute bear of a man drops heavily into the seat opposite you with a “heard you like a john with experience, s’that right, sweetheart?”

meanwhile you’re staring at the grey hair in his beard and at his temples with something approaching stars in your eyes

Slow Like Honey Masterpost (Complete)

Summary:  The gossip that buzzes around in the teacher’s lounge is that sweet, sensitive, divorcé Steve Rogers is hot-for-teacher. His daughter’s first-grade teacher, to be exact. Steve Rogers x Petite Reader –

(*) denotes NSFW

Part I: Teacher Appreciation Week

Part II: Slow Like Honey

Part III: Heavy With Mood

Part IV: The First Taste*

Part V: Twenty Years and a Month*

Part VI: Three Conversations

Part VII: Try Again

Part VIII: Never is a Promise*

lovely graphic made by @jurassicbarnes​

𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐆𝐅 𝐄𝐑𝐀

𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 𝐒𝐅𝐖, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐲, 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲/𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞? 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐜𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 <𝟑

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐫

he loves it. he loves seeing you taking care of yourself like you should.

he actually drives you to your lash appointment and helps you pick a style you'd like

also helps you pick a nail colour and style when you can't decide what to get

lets you wear whatever you want. he can fight sis, pick the sluttiest thing you can find and he'll be on his knees for you

paying for your clothes and makeup? absolutely, mans loves seeing you all dolled up

often gives you compliments on your makeup and outfit

he actually agrees to wearing matching fits and even takes couple pics with you

he'll carry the heavy shit and open jars for you, he don't want you to break your nails

"baby, can you open this for me? i don't wanna break my nails" you asked as you walked in the living room with a jar, giving him a pout

"of course, princess. let me handle it"

you in your spoiled girlfriend era with him

passanger seat princess check

he buys you huge bouqets of flowers and gives you gifts just cause. he don't need a reason to spoil his pretty gf

pretty gf x obsessed bf kinda vibes

opens doors, pulls your chair and lets you walk on the inside of the sidewalk

loves it when you get dressed up, but he also loves it when you don't. man's just head over heels no matter what

the man loves showing you off wherever you go

no matter how long you take to get ready to go somewhere, he says it's always worth it.

gives you his credit card without you even asking for it.

you could act like a spoiled brat the whole day and you'd still get whatever you want lmao, the man is smitten

carries you in his arms or on his back when you get tired of walking

kisses your hand while he drives and if it's a manual, he shifts gears while holding your hand

he will take pictures of you if you ask him to, he's the type to lay flat on the floor just to get your angle

spends his money on you like he's made out of it, holidays, restaurant dates, expensive dates and all that thang

whatever you want, your man will get it for you

a/n: for all my girlies out there who are sick of the basic bitch y/n trope. sis, i feel you.

p.s: reblog so my work can reach more people

GAHDAMNNNN THIS WAS SO GOOD 😭😭🙌🙌🙌🙌

Cupid’s Chokehold (Part 7)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: You are a Cupid, a nearly extinct creature of Prythian. When you get caught trying to shoot Elain with your arrow, well, it’s a little hard to explain what you’re trying to do.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2,811

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6]

Notes: The finale 😭 Please enjoy 💙

_________________________________________

It’s that revelation that makes him rethink everything.

Had he really been do dumb as to not notice what was happening between the two of you? The cheeky banter between the two of you, you getting on his nerves and him getting on yours. The almost kiss you’d shared when he had been cleaning your wound. The wound he had a hand in giving you. The heightened emotions he felt when it had anything to do with you, Eris’ threats or Rhys’ scolding, he didn’t care about any of that as long as you were okay.

Or had you just made another general assumption about love?

Azriel could admit that your words were convincing, even if he didn’t fully believe in the entirety of what your species was doing. And seeing Eris agree, having a sour experience with your kind, had made the shadowsinger rethink everything you had said, for he would never admit that the Autumn Lordling was right in any way, shape, or form.

Keep reading

mama

MIA

john price, his wife, and... the dog (derogatory)

who: John Price x wife!reader

what: inspired by this thought about john price being an absolutely softie for his wife.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: none. just fluff that reallyyyyy makes me want to marry this man.

It’s 2AM on a Saturday in the summer when John Price hears his wife cheating on him. 

“Shhh!!  You have to be quiet, you’ll wake up my husband.” 

He opens his heavy eyes to see the TV paused at the end credits of some movie he can’t even remember the name of.  The screen reflects in the crystal of the empty rocks glass on the coffee table next to his feet, holding only a warm whiskey stone.  

He groans and stretches, his old t-shirt riding up to show a dark happy trail disappearing into low-waisted flannel pajama pants.  He has one sock on with a hole in the toe.  You told him to get rid of them and got him a pack of 20 of the same sock (he’s very particular about his socks), but he still wears these ones, anyway. 

“Stop moving, I’m trying to concentrate here.  Damn lock… can never— oh, shit.  Wrong key.”  He can hear you muttering and giggling and the scratch of the key against the lock as you struggle to get it in. 

It’s your girls’ night and he likes to wait up for you to make sure you get in safely.  He saw you off around 8PM, pouring himself a glass of whiskey as you took a shot of tequila.  You planted a big kiss on his cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark that he didn’t bother to fully wipe off. 

“Sorry, I know you’re eager to get inside.  I bet you’re so cold, all naked.  Here, you can go in my dress, is that better?  Fu—ow!  Don’t bite my tit, Jesus!  Sharp teeth…” 

He suddenly feels much more awake.  He pushes himself up from the couch and starts to walk to the foyer. 

“This damn door… ah!  There we go.”  The door creaks open and he hears you tiptoe inside in your heels (wearing heels and tiptoeing—are two actions that are mutually exclusive, especially when you’re plastered).  “Remember, we have to be quiet.  My husband waits for me to get home, we don’t want to wake him up.  He’s very nice, you see, but he can’t know you’re here.” 

Apparently, you have gotten home safely—with an extra guest who just bit at your tit.  And you’re being more loud than your guest, who you keep telling to be quiet. 

“My husband is gonna be soooo mad.  He’s gonna be so mad at me, but once he sees how cute you are, I think he’ll forgive me.  He’ll understand.  I had to.  I just had to!” 

He hears rustling as he gets closer to the foyer, you fumbling around in the dark. 

“Stay there, don’t move, okay?  Stay, yeah?  You know that, don’t you?  Mummy will teach you if not.  Just stay right there.  Lemme get these damn heels off…” 

There’s an odd sound of something quickly clicking on hardwood floor that makes his eyebrows furrow, and then you gasp—

“Wait, don’t run—“ 

Bang! 

You groan loudly. 

John flicks on the lights. 

You’re lying face down on the rug.  You have one heel on.  The second heel is twisted around your other foot—what you fell over.  Your little dress is flipped up over your ass and your arms are outstretched. 

“You okay there, love?”  You just groan.  “Sounded like you fell pretty hard.” 

“I tripped,” you say into the rug, sounding very sad. 

“You hurt?” he asks. 

You shake your head and curl up a little.  “I’ll just sleep here.” 

He laughs softly.  “Come on, none of that.” 

“It’s so comfortable.  I’ll just—“ 

There’s that clicking sound again and he’s almost startled by the abruptness of your movement.  You push yourself up with one arm, stretch the other out and fucking snatch the quick-moving little brown blob that’s moving toward you.  You pull it to your chest and cradle it, shielding it from John’s view. 

“What you got there, baby?” he asks after a second. 

“Nothing,” you say innocently. 

“Uh huh.”  He crosses his arms, looking you over.  “Who were you talking to just now?” 

“No one,” you say quickly.  “Myself.” 

“Uh huh,” John says again. “Show me what you have.” 

You look over your shoulder up at him through your lashes, vision blurry.  “No.  You’re gonna be mad.” 

“Just show me.” 

“Promise you won’t be mad.” 

He sighs.  “I won’t be mad.”  You give him a look.  He sighs again.  You’re wasted—he can tell by your eyes.  “Promise.  Now show me.” 

You look down at whatever you’re holding to your chest.  “Okay,” you whisper, “you need to be very well-behaved, okay?  No biting, please.  Be very nice for Daddy so he will like you, okay?  Can you do that?  Yes?  Okay.” 

You glance up at John again over your shoulder and then turn yourself around in a very clumsy movement.  Then, as if presenting whatever it is like you’re Mufasa from the Lion King, you lift it up in the air toward your husband. 

It’s a puppy. 

It’s quiet. 

The little dog wriggles in your hands, wagging his tail so hard his whole body shakes.  He barks up at John, high pitched.  A small pink tongue lolls out of his mouth. 

It’s still quiet. 

You lower the dog a little so you can look up at John.  “You said you wouldn’t be mad!” 

“I’m not mad,” John says, sounding mad. 

“You look mad.” 

“I’m not mad,” he says again.  “It’s just… dirty.” 

You gasp.  “He’s not dirty!” you exclaim, sounding offended on behalf of the dog.  You pull him to your chest.  “He’s just a little mangey, you see.  But that’s okay.  It can be fixed.  You know—they have medicine for that.  Or lotion, or whatever it is.  He’s very nice, John, I swear.  I know he’s a little… skrunkly but he’s very cute and—ow!  That’s my hair, no biting Mummy, please.” 

“You’re already calling yourself his Mummy?” he asks, bemused, eyebrow raised at you.  Yep.  You’re fucking wasted. 

“Yes, and you’re his Daddy.”  You hold the dog up again, this time facing him toward you.  “I think you’re very cute.  You’ll grow on Daddy.  Just be very good for him, you can do that, can’t you?  Yes, you can.” 

“I thought it was something else,” John says. 

“What did you think it was?” you ask. 

“Where did you find it?” he asks instead of answering.  This is much better than what his traitorous mind momentarily supplied.  He should have known better.  Of course it’s this. 

A puppy. 

A puppy! 

“Oh, hello, there.” 

You crouch down in your dress and heels and hold out your hand to the little puppy emerging from the bushes by the side of the road. 

“What are you doing here, all alone?  Come here, love, I won’t hurt you.  Come on, puppy, come to me.  Yeahhh, there we go.  Oh, look at you.  You’re so cute.  You’re all mangey, though.  Oh,” you say pitifully, “you little baby.” 

You’re drunk as fuck at 2AM on a Saturday in the summer, walking home from the bar, squatting in the middle of a back road in England, petting this puppy clumsily—but he doesn’t seem to mind.  He wags his tail and nips at your fingers. 

“Where’s your Mummy?  You shouldn’t be out here all alone.  No collar… oh, goodness, what should I do with you?  I don’t want to leave you.  I’m not sure what to do.” 

He barks at you, high pitched. 

You nod at him seriously.  “Oh, yes, good point.”  He barks again.  “Mhm.  Yes, yes.  I thought so, too.  Exactly right.” 

He runs in a circle around you. 

“What are you, a month?  You should be with your Mum, you shouldn’t be all alone.  Oh, you little baby, you must be so scared.”  (He’s wagging his tail.)  “It’s so cold.”  (It’s summer.)  “Maybe you can come home with me?”  (Your husband would be so mad.) 

“Yes,” you decide.  “You’ll come home with me.”  (Your husband is going to be so mad.) 

That’s how you end up stumbling home with a puppy in your arms, rambling to him about yourself and your life. 

“Well, puppy, my name is Luxe.  I’m from here.  I live in a nice three bedroom house with my husband, I think you’ll like it very much.  Our house is only 10 more minutes away.  See that big tree there?  That means we only have 10 minutes.  I’m not great with street names, you see, so I go by landmarks.”  He barks.  “Yes, yes, you get it.” 

“Anyway.  So, I’m—stop wiggling please, Mummy’s going to drop you—I’m married to a very nice man named John.  I love him very much.  You’ll like him, too,” you tell him seriously, “he’s very likable.  I like lots of things about him, puppy.  Actually, I like everything about him.” 

“He says I can’t have a dog, though.  But maybe we can sneak you in.  What do you think, puppy?  Should we do that?  I think we should do that.  We’ll have to be very quiet, though.  Very quiet.” 

“John waits for me to get home—he’s so nice, I love him sooooo much—but we have to make sure not to wake him up.” 

And that’s how you end up trying to sneak into your own house and then trip over your shoe and fucking slam! your face on the rug. 

“Where did you find it?” John asks you. 

“On the way home from the bar, kind of my that big tree.” 

“By Notting Street?” 

You furrow your eyebrows.  “Notting St—I dunno.  Maybe?  I just know the big tree.  The one with all the branches.” 

“The one with all the branches,” he repeats.  “Right.” 

“But he was there all alone so I took him home.  I couldn’t leave him, John, he’s so little.  And he’s very cute, look at his little ears?  And his little feet?  His toes are soooo small.  His little teeth are sharp, though—like a shark.  Fuckin’ hurt, he almost bit my tit off.” 

“Yeah, I heard.” 

“You heard?  Oh.  I was trying to be quiet.  I didn’t want to wake you up.” 

He smiles at you.  “I know.” 

You smile back at him. 

“Give me the dog.” 

You frown at him.  “No.” 

“The dog, please.” 

“No.”  You hold him tighter.  “You’ll take him from me.” 

“Well,” he says, “yes.” 

You sigh.  “Be gentle.”  You hand him to John and he takes him in one hand and holds him out, frowning, as if it’s offended him. 

A puppy. 

“Can we keep him?” you ask hopefully. 

He glances at you and then back to the puppy and then back to you and then back to the puppy.  “No.” 

“Please?” 

“No.” 

“But…”  You trail off and he looks back down at you.  You’re starting to tear up. 

“Oh, love, don’t cry.” 

“He’s so little and soft and nice and he’s all mangey and he’s just a little baby and he’s all alone and…” 

“Okay, baby, we can keep him.”  (By that, he means you’ll talk about it tomorrow when you’re sober, and by ‘talk about it’, he means, ‘no.’) 

“Really?!” you gasp.  

The way your face fucking lights up makes John pause.  For a second, he almost feels like he lost his balance.

“Oh, John, really?  Oh, thank you so much!  Puppy, did you hear that?  Daddy said yes!  See, he’s very nice, just like I told you, remember?  He’s very nice and kind and he’s very handsome and I love him very much, you see, and I—“ 

“He can’t understand you.” 

“You don’t know that,” you say defensively.

“Uh huh,” he says. 

You stare up at him, standing over you as you sit on the floor.  “How are you handsome from this angle?”  You frown.  “Stupid face,” you mutter. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Let’s get you up.” 

“I’m so comfortable.” 

“Hand.”  He tucks the dog under his arm and extends his other hand toward you.  He crooks his long, thick fingers at you.  “Now.” 

You look between his hand and his face, and then slip your hand into his.  He pulls you up and then, in one movements that’s He fucking yanks you up and, in one movement that’s somehow graceful, bends down and throws you over his shoulder. 

He, naturally, slaps your ass and you squeal.  “Hey!!”  You kick your feet a little (still only one heel on) and he laughs, resting his hand on your hip as he makes his way up the stairs with you on his shoulder and the dog in his hand. 

Gently, he drops you onto the bed and you fall back with an oof! and stare up at him. 

“Well,” he drawls, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” 

You grin.  “I missed you.” 

“I missed you, too.”  He takes off your shoes, your clothes, and your makeup as you hold the dog, curled up, on your chest. 

“You’re so good to me, John,” you say, your eyes closed.  “I’m so lucky.  I don’t know how I got so lucky.  And, you, puppy,” you mumble, petting him slowly, “you’re so lucky, too.  You’re about to have the best Daddy in the world.  He’s so good to us.” 

“Puppy is asleep,” John says.  “And,” he adds, scooping him up in one hand, “puppy is not sleeping in the bed.” 

You just groan, too tired and drunk to argue. 

He holds the dog out in the air again, turning him around and upside down to examine him.  He yips and wriggles in his hands, but John shushes him.  “Hush now.  Your Mum is asleep.”  He shakes his head sighs.  “What am I going to do with you?” 

He takes the dog to the bathroom and puts him down on the floor and puts his hands on his hips, staring down at the dog.  His paws slip a little on the cold tile.  John reaches over to turn on the heated floor (which he got installed for you) and says to the dog, “You are so, so damn lucky I love your Mummy.” 

note: thank you for reading! this is my first time posting in years–and in a totally new fandom. thank you for your patience and your support. let me know your thoughts! merry christmas!

posted 12.26.2024. do not repost or modify any of my original words on any other platform. to masterlist.

damn i need a fic w these mfs THEY ARE DOING SMT TO ME

more rlly quick sketches of my recom ocs, aka vipers only friends. they’re both snipers and the one w the beanie has a british accent. kobras the more talkative one while boa is just happy to be here. jacques is french and kobra is british. bffs for life

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. by far one of the most well written azriel fics i've ever read :)

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Sixteen

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Lucien Vanserra could kill me and I would be honored. Cannon typical violence. Some angst. Lots of fun

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Lucien stood in disbelief, mouth opening and closing. Words stuck in his throat.  

You knew as his eyes roamed over your features that he was hunting for some mark of Helion’s that you’d inherited, whether it be the set of your eyes, the curve of your jaw, the slope of your nose, or even the tilt of your sharp ears. But he came up empty. Whatever features you did share with Helion could have easily been shared by two strangers. It was how you’d gotten away with working with him at the Day Court and attending balls by his side. 

But there were some things that went deeper than skin and bones. He could barely make it out in the hum of your power and the faint, charming glow in your eyes. It was something that spoke of warmth and sparkling intellect. A sliver of the sun given form. 

You were Helion’s daughter. 

You were… you were his sister.

You cleared your throat and looked away. “I understand this must be a surprise. Perhaps not the kind of surprise you were hoping for.” 

“You’re my sister,” Lucien finally breathed out, and the wind, so harsh and biting before, ceased.

“Half-sister… technically.” 

“I don’t go by halves.” 

The sharp, sudden rush of cold air into your lungs had you shivering. Lucien noticed and without thinking he reached out with his power, wrapping heat around your body until you may as well have been perched in front of a roaring fire. His magic smelled like woodsmoke and balsam.

“You’re my sister.” He repeated the phrase a few more times, finding it more believable with each swirl of the words around his tongue. 

Elain had known this was coming and had given him a cryptic warning, but that did nothing to lessen the excitement spreading in his chest with each passing second. 

You watched him wearily, hands clasped over your body and eyes furrowed, like you couldn’t tell if he was upset. Which was ridiculous. How could Lucien ever be upset by this?

“You’re my sister!” 

A sharp laugh exited his body that grew and grew until you felt like you were floating on the waves of his happiness. He rushed forward, hoisting you in the air and spinning you around like you weighed nothing. Wind rushed past your ears as the world blurred. 

He gently deposited you back on solid ground.

“How old are you? How long have you known about Helion? Where have you been all this time?” He asked the questions in rapid succession, heart hammering away in his chest. 

He had a sister. A sister. 

“I’m three hundred and forty-three.”

He smiled. He’d always wanted a younger sibling. A younger sister to be exact that he could teach to fight and hunt and ride with more support than he’d ever been afforded. 

“I’ve known about Helion since I was little.” Lucien’s smile slipped at that revelation. “And I’ve been in the Day Court in one of the athenaeums. It was my home up until the point where Koschei burned down my house and I got saddled with Beth’s book. I’ve been here ever since. Although I never expected for any of this—” You gestured vaguely at the House, the sky, at Lucien, “to happen. Not that I’m upset!” You added quickly. 

“What was it like? Growing up in the Day Court?” He looked you up and down again, searching for scars or broken bones that had never healed right. But from what he could tell, you were whole. 

He clenched his fists tightly until you answered.

“It was safe. Lonely, but safe.” 

“Good.” He breathed out in relief. “Good.” 

Azriel watched everything from the deck that wrapped around the back of the house. The wind carried the tang of salt, opening his lungs and easing the pain in his chest that wrapped around him like a vice. He kept his wings pulled in tight and hands clasped behind his back. He was a slice in the fabric of the universe, unmoving and still. 

And he missed you. Gods did he miss you. 

“We shouldn’t stand so close,” Azriel murmured. 

His voice was ragged, filled with more gravel than the walkway that snaked through Elain’s garden. Weighed down with secrets that felt more like anvils. 

Elain dropped the empty bucket onto the deck followed by the clang of her spade. The shovel lay discarded in the field, the ground marked by neat lines of overturned earth. She cupped her hands and blew into them, breathing life back into her stiff fingers. 

Twenty minutes ago he’d seen you run beneath his window, racing towards the Sidra with your robes hiked up to your knees so you could try and keep up with Lucien’s long strides as he pulled you along by your hand, red hair streaming behind him like a bundle of ribbons. 

You’d been calling out for him to slow down, your voice loud and breathless.

And after everything that had happened, the things he’d seen, he couldn’t stop himself from walking down to the deck to watch you. 

Now you stood at the water’s edge with your hands outstretched, dutifully holding onto every stone that Lucien plucked from the river. Your head tipped to the side in curiosity.

His childhood in Autumn had not been kind, but that didn’t mean there hadn’t been happy moments sprinkled in amongst the sorrow. There in the woods with bejeweled treetops and diamond glass rivers he’d learned how to swim and fish and hunt. He’d wrestled with his brothers, fallen in love, and gained the confidence and freedom to eventually travel the Courts and make his own way in the world. 

But you’d been lonely your whole life. Trapped indoors with nothing but your books for company. You’d never learned how to swim. You’d never dug through the soil for slimy worms to go fishing. You’d never fallen asleep beneath a glittering sky, fire smoke curling in the air and the taste of chestnuts lingering on your tongue and filling your belly. 

It had been a different kind of sorrow, but no less real. 

Lucien aimed to change some of that. Your mere presence beside him, as hesitant as it was, filled him with a happiness he couldn’t name. 

He had his trousers rolled up to his thighs revealing powerful legs and freckled, caramel-brown skin. He didn’t mind the cold waters rolling over his hands as he tracked the riverbed for the smoothest, flattest stones. Every time he looked back you were either watching him or examining each stone with narrowed eyes like you’d find some algorithm carved into their edges that would tell you what made them so special for the task at hand. 

Azriel couldn’t hear what you two were saying, and he didn’t send his shadows out to investigate, but soon you were tugging off your boots, then your socks, and tying the long length of your robes around your waist. You gingerly dipped your toes into the river and immediately leapt back. 

Lucien’s laugh rolled over the earth, full of warmth and joy. He was grinning so wide Azriel could see the whites of his teeth and his shaking shoulders.

Inch by inch you walked into the river up to your calves and Lucien dunked his cupped hands into the cold water. 

“Don’t you dare! Lucien!” 

Then you were shaking your head, slapping Lucien’s hands away with a shout when he tossed the water at your face, and threatening to launch the black stones back into the river for him to fetch. Your toes were already starting to go numb.

Azriel’s heart gave a painful lurch, even as he smiled softly at the sight of you. 

“I don’t… I don’t want to give them the wrong idea.” Azriel swallowed and turned his gaze down to where a plump sparrow was digging around in the grasses. 

Elain ignored him, dropping her arms onto the wooden railing and staring out. She let out a lovely, longing sigh and Azriel just knew she was strumming the bond within her chest to feel Lucien on the other side. 

The red-haired male looked up to meet her gaze and smiled softly. You also looked up, and then immediately looked away with rosy cheeks.

“Lucien knows where I stand. He… he’s finally beginning to trust me again.” 

He’d been so eager to give her his heart the first time around, and she’d crushed it beneath her dainty shoes, too angry at the life that had been torn away to look at the one she’d been given. This time around she was determined to earn Lucien’s love, no matter how easy he made it for her. No matter how many times he told her it wasn’t something that had ever needed to be earned.

“It took some time to gain that back.” She shifted. “But then again, we were lucky. We knew what we were to each other. You still haven’t told Y/n you’re mates.” 

“You know about that?”

Elain rolled her eyes as if the answer were obvious, because it was. 

“I don’t think I can tell her, Elain.” 

“And why not?” 

Azriel hesitated. 

Here was a truth he hadn’t been able to express to his brothers — the truth they didn’t understand: They were good, decent males, and when it had come to their mating bonds they’d treated them with the respect they deserved. They’d been patient. They’d never tried to force a hand that wasn’t theirs. 

But Azriel was… wrong. In so many ways he was wrong. 

He either waited too long or he moved without thinking. He fell into obsession like a starling with clipped wings. He scrounged for scraps of affection where he wasn’t supposed to and brooded when it inevitably blew up in his face. He’d been trying to take his time with you. He’d been trying to do it right. He was… 

He was already in love with you. 

He’d been in love with you for some time now.

Elain smiled, still staring towards the river. 

She had loved Azriel once. Not in the way she loved Lucien and not in a way that had been good for them, but still it had been love of some kind. She could feel the waves rolling off his body as he came to his quiet realization, and it felt very different from the way he’d felt about her and very similar to the way she felt about Lucien. 

“I love her, Elain.” He whispered the words like they were fragile as spun sugar, ready to dissolve the moment they left his lips. 

“She’ll say yes to the bond. I’ve seen it.”

Azriel let out a broken, strangled noise and looked at Elain, begging for more. “Even after—”

“Yes. Even after what that boy made you do. Even after what she learned when she touched your hand.” She looked down at Azriel’s hands, leather gloves worn and supple. She gave them a squeeze. “A year ago I had a vision of a white bird flying out of the sun with a golden ribbon tied to one of its feathers. Its wings were dipped in ink so she could leave a trail along the ground for a beast of shadow to follow.” 

Azriel went still as death. “And then what happened?” 

Elain looked up at him, eyes glittering. “She flew to the base of a mountain, laid down, and has been waiting ever since. She’s been waiting for you. For someone who understands what it means to be lonely and what it’s like to hope for more.” 

And Azriel did exactly that. He hoped for more. 

More time with you. More unrestrained touches. More midnight conversations until your eyes were threatening to shut. 

Something changed then. Elain’s brown, doe eyes turned misty and flat. Her voice dropped and the hand she reached out to grab hold of his arm was cold as ice. 

“You need to be careful, Az,” she warned. “Don’t let her go into the mirror. She may not come out.” She clawed at his arms. “Az, you need to be careful. The mirror…” 

He gripped her shoulders, stabilizing her as she swayed on her feet. 

“Elain, what—” But her vision was already gone. No matter how hard she tried to hold on it was like trying to keep water in a cracked cup. 

Lucien kept his arm perfectly parallel with the earth, drew back, and snapped his wrist at the last second. The stone flew out over the glassy river and kept kissing the surface in weakening arches before it was eventually swallowed up in a dollop of salt. 

“Eight.” 

Lucien looked at you incredulously. “I counted nine.” 

“Eight skips,” you argued. “Males always overestimate.” 

“And what experience do you have with males?”

None. Except for that one glorious day you’d clung to Azriel like the world was finally peaceful. It was nowhere near the level of experience you suspected Lucien must have after centuries spent bouncing around from Court to Court. Nowhere near the level of experience Azriel or the others had when it came to touch. 

You bristled. “Enough.” 

Lucien smirked like he knew you were lying and held out his hand for another stone. Soon it too was lost to the river. 

“How many this time?” 

You twisted your lips to the side, but had to admit, “Nine.”

He was grinning. 

“Come on.” He held out his hand for you, beckoning you deeper into the river. “Your turn. Just like I showed you.”

“This is a terrible idea.” 

“Come on!”

“I will kill a fish, Lucien.” 

There was a playful roll of his eyes. “Y/n—”

“I’ll end up throwing a rock so hard into the water I’ll give an innocent, unsuspecting fish brain damage.” So what if you were being melodramatic. That did nothing to counter the fact that your hand-eye coordination was shit. 

“Y/n, you’ll be fine. I promise.” 

Wrong.

You were gods awful at this. 

You tried your best to mimic the bend of Lucien’s spine as he let go of his stone, tried to mimic the way he curled his fingers against its rounded edges. But every single one of your throws was either too strong or too weak. Too high or too low. 

You chucked the last rock in your hand but the spin on it — or rather lack thereof — was abysmal. It plopped into the river three yards away with a splash. 

Lucien chuckled, shaking his head as you stomped back onto the beach, swearing with every step as your robes dragged through the water behind you. 

You whirled around and kicked up river water in his direction. 

“Stop laughing!” A smile tugged at your lips even as you said that. 

“You’re doing very well!” 

“Don’t be condescending.”

“I’m not!”

 “I didn’t grow up in the backwoods of Autumn. I’ve never done this before,” you grumbled, your words tinged with embarrassment. 

And thank the Mother you hadn’t. Yes, Lucien had always wanted a sister, but he flinched just to think of the horrors you would have faced if you’d both shared a mother instead of a father. The ways Beron would have bent you until you broke, especially as a female. Sold to the highest bidder and forced to have as many children as possible. A high-end, noble-blooded breeder.

Suddenly he wasn’t laughing anymore. The smile slipped off his bright face. 

You stiffened. Some of the scars on Lucien’s body took on new meaning. 

“I’m sorry, Lucien,” you said. The fun of the afternoon, as embarrassing as it had been for you, fell away. “I wasn’t thinking.” 

You’d only heard whispers of the way Beron treated his children. Which could only mean that they’d endured infinitely worse. 

Lucien shook his head and more of his scarlet hair came tumbling out of his braid. He looked so much like Helion in the sun that you were surprised more people didn’t know. They had the same strong noses, the same build with their tapered waists and strong legs. They even had the same dimple on their left cheeks. 

But maybe Beron and his brothers had known, or at least suspected that he was different, and that had added to Lucien’s torment.

“Maybe one day you could show me though,” you asked hopefully when the silence was on the verge of becoming too loud, “I’ve never been to Autumn — I’ve not been to most places, actually — but I’d like to see it. I could show you the Day Court too.” 

He shook his head slowly, rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think that would be a good idea — visiting the Day Court.” 

That was the issue you’d been tiptoeing around the last two hours. You both knew about Helion, but he was only aware of your existence, not Lucien’s. And it was one thing for you to be revealed as Helion’s daughter — there’d be gossip, attempts on your life, and countless marriage proposals. 

But for Lucien? He’d suddenly find himself face to face with the weight of a crown and an entire Court on his shoulders. You wouldn’t blame him for trying to avoid that fate.

Still, you couldn’t help but ask, “Lucien… Why haven’t you told Helion yet? Beron’s been dead for years now, and I’ve heard only good things about Eris. That he’s honest and fair. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’d punish you if you claimed your right to Helion’s Court.”

His bright eyes turned bitter, all laughter disappearing. He dipped his hand into the river, picked up a rock, and chucked it back in. Its edges were too ragged anyway. 

“What makes you think he doesn’t already know?” 

You straightened up as if the answer were obvious. “Trust me, he doesn’t know. If he knew you were his son, he would have found ways to see you grow up. We might have even grown up together.”

 It was a pathetic daydream, but one you’d been thinking about. 

“You’re wrong!” 

The outburst was so sudden, so unlike the Lucien everyone else spoke of that you had to take a few steps back. Smoke rose from his clenched fists and his skin pulsed, glowing with an inner light like he was more ember than fae. 

He blinked rapidly then swore, brushing his salt-stiffened hair back. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you, but…” He shook his head. “He wouldn’t have come. He didn’t come. He just left me and my mother there with that monster. He must have known what it was like — the things he did to her and the rest of us — but he never showed up. Not for my mother. Not for me.” 

“He didn’t know.” 

You repeated those words with the same conviction you had for everything else you knew to be true. You stepped closer and with the slope of the beach you could face him eye-to-eye. 

“Do you want to know how I know? My mother wanted nothing to do with him when she found out she was pregnant. He had to hear it from one of the healers.  And when I was born she forbade him from visiting, forbade him from even laying eyes on me, but he couldn’t stay away. He found ways to be in my life and protected me as best he could, and when Mom died and I was left on my own, he gave me projects with purpose so I wouldn’t crumble into nothing.” You stabbed your finger against your chest. “He did that for me. Is he a great father? Absolutely not. Is he a decent father? Maybe? Probably not, he wasn’t there most of the time. But he’s trying. I know it’s not the same and we’re still strangers and I understand if you don’t forgive him for abandoning your mother — I wouldn’t — but he would have gone for you.” 

You were breathing hard now. Lucien just stared with shiny eyes and unclenched fists. 

“And I think after everything you’ve been through, you deserve to know what it’s like to have a father who at least tries.” 

The world was too small right now. It was too big. The Sidra had soaked through your skin and your robes were growing heavier and heavier by the second, weighed down by salt water and time. 

“Would you at least consider telling him? Please?” 

Because another pathetic daydream you’d been thinking of recently was that one day it might be you and Helion and Lucien. An imperfect family, but a family nevertheless. That you might not feel so alone anymore. 

Lucien’s throat bobbed and he turned away from you long enough for the crisp wind to dry his tears. 

“Take off your robes. They must be soaked by now. I’ll make sure you don’t go cold.'” His voice was strangled. He cleared his throat. “And I’ll look for more stones. No sister of mine is going to go through life without learning how to skip stones.” 

He threw that word around so casually — sister — like saying it over and over again would somehow make the hundreds of years you’d both spent on your own disappear. 

Clouds gathered steadily overhead painting the world with a wash of grey. But that did nothing to diminish the faint light that emanated from you and Lucien as you waded through the shallows and finally learned to skip stones. Lucien whooped, red hair streaming behind him, and you smiled as your last stone skipped twice over the river before disappearing beneath the surface. 

You leaned back in the tall, dying grasses and sipped on the cardamom tea Elain brought down from the House, listening to the many stories Lucien had gathered over centuries spent traversing Prythian and the Human Lands. You told him about The Alcove, Cherp, your mother, and the books you read, and he listened like it was the most epic tale he’d heard in his entire life. 

Sometimes you both went quiet. It was sobering to think about what you’d both endured alone without your true family. But still… it was good to have one another now. 

When you walked into the packed dining room — barefoot, salt-stained, and rosy from the cold — Lucien pulled out the seat next to him for you, surprising the grey Ione.

Elain dropped gracefully into the chair across from her mate, a knowing smile on her face. 

“Good day?” 

You and Lucien glanced at one another. His golden eye whirred and his russet eye gleamed mischievously. 

You folded your arms over your chest, forcing down the smile that threatened to make its appearance. “The worst.” 

“You’re just upset because you lost,” Lucien teased, casually draping his arm over your shoulder. 

“It was hardly a fair competition. You must have — what? — five-hundred years of experience against me?”

He clasped a hand over his chest. “You wound me, sister. Although, if you must know, I’m four hundred and seventeen.” 

“I’m surprised you’re not a sack of bones on the floor.” 

“I’m not that old.”

“I think I see a few grey hairs here and there.” 

Lucien scoffed, but everyone noticed when he absentmindedly touched his long red locks as the last of the dinner plates materialized on the table. Feyre reached over from beside Lucien and squeezed his hand tightly under the table. 

It wasn’t the drop of Helion’s magic that caused The High Lady’s eyes to glow so brightly. She was just happy. Lucien squeezed her hand back even tighter. 

Azriel was the last to arrive, appearing in the hallway in a swath of shadows like he was stepping out of one of your dreams. He must have flown home today. Mist gathered into droplets that clung to his skin and hair and eyelashes like a thousand diamonds. Not even the faint shadows beneath his eyes could distract from his beauty, and you felt that familiar wash of comfort flow over your body when you caught his scent. 

There was only one available seat left at the table. The one directly across from you and Lucien… and right next to Elain. 

Your stomach dropped. 

The seating arrangement was truly a horrible coincidence. One that no one seemed to recognize until it was too late and Azriel’s chair was screeching over the wooden floor. Both he and Elain shifted in their seats, quietly pulling them further apart. It should have made you feel better that Azriel was trying so hard to distance himself from Elain, but the only thing it emphasized was that they’d used to be so close. 

Cassian looked over nervously at his brother, but Azriel was as impassive as always. The room fell into uncomfortable silence, punctuated only by the sounds of chewing and the clinking of silverware. If the House was a person, they would be sweating buckets. 

Cassian coughed and sipped his wine. “So… lovely weather we’re having.” 

Lightning cracked across the darkened sky, followed by rain that began plummeting to the earth in heavy sheets. 

Rhysand leaned over and smacked his brother on the back of his head and Cassian couldn’t even feign annoyance at that. 

“You never fail to have incredible timing, Cassian.” Lucien drank his wine deeply and some of the tension seemed to lift from the table when everyone noticed how happy he still was. The terrible things in the world had not lessened, but Lucien felt lighter than he had in decades.

In proper Helion fashion, he kept the pleasant conversation spinning over the table, ensnaring you with the stories he tossed back and forth with Feyre. 

“How was I supposed to know you’d be crazy enough to try and capture a Suriel?”

“What? Like it was meant to be difficult?”

Lucien smirked and crossed his arms. “Beginner’s luck.”

“What were the second and third times then?” 

“The Suriel being a terrible busybody who was bored and wanted to spill gossip.” 

Feyre flipped him off and he winked in return. 

Azriel did what he always did and sat still and quiet as a mouse, eyes tracing over the flow of conversation like he knew who would speak before they’d even opened their mouths. But his eyes kept lingering on you, a smile tugging at his lips whenever one grew on yours. 

Lucien noticed it the third time it happened. Then the fourth. Then the fifth. Until he found himself watching the Shadowsinger almost as intensely as Azriel was watching you. 

His grip tightened around his silverware. 

“I am not nearly as uptight as Gwyn says I am,” you muttered, pushing around the potatoes on your plate. 

You’d sunk into your seat when, to your embarrassment, the conversation had steered in your direction. Azriel had been the one to do it, casually dropping a comment about how much time you spent in Cagniv Library and the ways in which you’d already influenced the priestesses who operated there. It was the first thing he’d said all day. 

“You made a fifth year apprentice cry.”

“That’s a lie, Nesta, and you know it.” 

Nesta did know it, but you’d been so quiet the past few weeks. She wanted to poke fun if only to make you smile. 

“Fine, that was an exaggeration. But you interrogated Farrah like she was a war criminal. Azriel would have been impressed.” 

“She’s the only expert on Cyerion Age Bauldish folklore and she was missing half the citations for her thesis! It took me ages to track down some of her sources.”

“She can’t cite a book that’s over 2,000 years old with no identifiable author. Or title. Or publishing date.” 

You grumbled under your breath. Something about, “Your library gives me anxiety” and “You’re making me look bad in front of Lucien.”

“Hmmm? Sorry?” Lucien tore his eyes away from where one of Azriel’s shadows had slid under the table and was now wrapping around the leg of your chair in an effort to gain your attention.  

You shook your head. “Nesta’s just trying to make me look bad.” 

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Azriel said softly, so softly he probably hadn’t even meant to say the words aloud. He looked up from his plate, shocked to hear his own voice continue on. “Maybe after this is all done, you could take on the task of reorganizing Cagniv. I’m sure you’d be saving the next Librarian more than a few headaches.”  

Your wide eyes met his across the table and for a brief moment it was like you two were alone and teasing each other over tea in the middle of the night like you used to. Two shadows illuminated by candlelight in a Court that never slept.

You sat up a little straighter. “Is that a challenge?” 

Azriel smiled faintly, “Maybe. Although I’m sure Bryaxis would give you a run for your money.”

You furrowed your brows. “Bryaxis?” 

Rhys smirked, “He’s the resident shadow demon that lives on the bottom floor of Cagniv. He flew down once on a dare and he high-tailed it out of the abyss white as a sheet. He still doesn’t talk about it.”

“Fuck you for bringing that up, Rhys.” Cassian’s hand trembled as he brought his fork up to his lips, “You’ll never let me live that down will you?” 

“You… you have a shadow demon living in your library?” Your face twisted in horror and you slammed your knife down on the table, “Is that why a third of the catalogue is missing from the shelves? I’ve been searching for ages!”

And there it was — that faint twitch of irritation in your eyes that told Azriel you were already contemplating going down to confront Bryaxis yourself. He could imagine how you’d stand there with a hand tucked into your robes, swinging a lantern from the other as you bullied the monster into letting you move the volumes someplace else. How you’d lecture him on the importance of controlling humidity when it comes to parchment preservation, and perhaps how you’d begrudgingly agree that the creature’s darkness had protected the fragile books from light exposure. 

“I knew that’s what you’d focus on,” Azriel said. His voice was deeper than an ocean, and just as full of hidden meaning. He shook his head in disbelief, a small smile gracing his lips. “You just learned you spent months studying with a monster lurking nearby — a monster that has Cassian trembling in the corner—”

“I am not trembling—”

“And you’re not afraid at all. You’re… you’re incredible, Y/n.” 

You pursed your lips, tamping down the delight that threatened to spill over inside of you like champagne bubbles — light and airy and lovestruck. With only a handful of sentences, Azriel had you wishing that everyone else would just leave. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks as Azriel kept looking at you. It was a quiet, intimate undressing without an inch of skin needing to be revealed. 

A tendril of shadow creeped up your arm and tugged your hair. The rest hovered shyly over a bag you recognized as Azriel’s, as if they knew they’d done wrong by ferrying it over from their master’s bedroom. But the timing was so perfect, how could they not? 

With you watching, they tugged open the strings and spilled the contents on the floor. 

To Lucien’s surprise, Azriel’s notorious stone-face went flush with color when he heard the thud of books and realized what his shadows had done. 

“Wait—Y/n—” His chair groaned in protest when he shot to his feet.

But you were already holding them in your hands. 

The Natural Trials and Tribulations of Leonora Bedroot, Three Knocks for A Kiss, and A Touch of Cinnamon. Your favorite books in the entire world. Two copies each. One brand new, and one whose pages were already flared, leather spines lovingly wrinkled. 

Your breath caught in your throat when you flipped through Three Knocks for a Kiss and saw Azriel’s delicate scrawl on every page. Passages had been circled and underlined with his comments left in the margins. Small tabs of paper poked out with more handwritten notes. 

Azriel’s been reading these over and over again for months now. He bought them a week after you came to Velaris because he remembered you liked books that are well loved and full of memory. The nights he couldn’t sleep and dream of you, he’d perch on his windowsill and read until morning came. You’ve given him a peace he’s never known before. 

A kind of peace you thought you’d been alone in feeling. 

The scent of night-chilled mountains and parchment paper filled your nose. 

Azriel bowed his head ever so slightly, eyes focused on your hands now clutching the books like they were gold. 

“I remembered seeing them in your apartment. I was going to give them to you at some point but…” Azriel trailed off, then whispered. “I remember what you told me about your mother reading them to you.” I remember everything you’ve told me. 

“I can keep them?” Your voice was a hush over the room. 

You cradled them protectively against your chest, as if at any moment they’d be torn away from you. You’d been hesitant to buy new copies after the original ones had been burned down in the Alcove. Part of their charm had always been the memories of your mother reading them aloud like they were flowers growing from her lips instead of words, buzzing and honey-laden. The books felt different now, but they still felt like something. They weren’t sterile and blank. They were filled with Azriel and all the good memories he carried with him. Few and far between as they were. 

“They’re yours,” Azriel breathed, “All yours.”  

Lucien looked back and forth between you two, focusing on the blush of your cheeks and the wetness in your eyes and the thinly veiled adoration in Azriel’s face now that you were looking back at him. A sick, knowing feeling had been building inside of him throughout dinner, but he’d repressed it. He couldn’t repress it any longer.

No. Absolutely not. There’s no way. There’s no fucking way.

He let his shock flow through the bond and looked to Elain for confirmation. 

Please tell me I’m wrong. He begged silently. Anyone but him. Literally anyone but him.

They’d yet to accept the bond, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t read each other like an open book. And right now Lucien was doing nothing to hide his seething temper. 

Elain bit her pale, pink lips and nodded, confirming what he already suspected. Then, in a move of silent permission, she slid her chair six inches away from Azriel’s until she was practically sharing a seat with Nesta. 

“Here we go again,” Nesta groaned and looked at Cassian. You want to get her?

Yeah I got her.

You straightened up, pressing the books to your chest in confusion. What had started off as a graciously uneventful dinner had turned into a moment of beauty that you wanted to preserve for a little while longer.  

But everyone around you parted, leaning back in their chairs and pulling glasses of wine off the table before draining them in one long chug. Even Ione held her plate in her hands, popping a tomato in her mouth with interest. Mor looked nervous clutching a sweaty bottle of wine against her chest. Feyre and Rhys looked resigned and Lucien… Lucien looked livid. After all, he owed Azriel for the Blood Duel.

Cassian hoisted you out of your seat with his arms wrapped firmly around your middle and stepped back and out of the way.

Your eyes widened when Lucien stood up, skin rippling with light and power. He calmly rolled back his sleeves revealing muscular, scarred forearms, then took off his rings one by one and dropped them on the table. 

Clink. Clink. Clink. 

He wanted to feel it when he beat the Shadowsinger to a pulp.

Oh… Oh shit. 

“Wait—Lucien!”

Lucien gritted his teeth and launched himself over the table. 

Azriel didn’t flinch. His hazel eyes didn’t even flicker in surprise. In fact, you swore you saw them flutter closed in acceptance. 

In another fight, Azriel might have had the advantage of wings and height, but Lucien had the wider build and the fucking motive. He slammed into the Shadowsinger’s chest and together they disappeared beneath the lip of the table before landing in a sprawl on the floor that knocked the air out of Azriel’s lungs. 

Cassian winced when he heard the first of Lucien’s blows land. 

“Let me go!” You kicked and squirmed in his grip, but you would have had more luck fighting a mountain. “Cassian, what the fuck?!”

“I’m really sorry, Y/n. But even I have to admit he had this coming.” There was another bloody crack. “Oh damn that sounds like it hurt.”

“Honestly, I didn't know he had it in him,” was Nesta’s only comment. Ione moved to stand beside the eldest Archeron sister so she could get a better view, a faintly amused smile on her face. 

“I did,” Elain said simply. That was one of the many things she and Lucien had in common. Their general patience and understanding could only stretch so far before snapping. “Ione, perhaps you should go upstairs.”

The older woman looked offended. “Why? This is the most fun I’ve had in ages. Such drama.”

When Helion had fought Azriel, there’d been an elegance to it — something altogether noble about the event as the two stared each other down as equals. 

This was nothing like that. 

Lucien was pissed and even Azriel had to admit that he really, really deserved this one. 

Lucien’s chest heaved, every blow of his fists against Azriel’s face punctuated by snarling words. 

“First you go after my mate—” Punch. “Then my sister—” Punch. Punch. “Are you—” Punch. “Fucking—” Punch. “Kidding me?!”

The last blow sent Azriel’s head snapping back hard enough to crack the floor tiles. Blood splattered from his nose like a spray of paint lobed at a canvas and Azriel knew from his sudden inability to breath that it was broken. 

“Lucien! Stop it!”

“We just redid the tiles,” Rhysand groaned, rubbing his temples. 

Lucien growled and grabbed Azriel by the front of his leathers, throwing him over and onto the table. The long mahogany table, shiny and expensive as hell, snapped in two with a deafening bang. Silverware flew into the air, catching the light like holiday tinsel. Porcelain plates shattered and Azriel finally groaned in pain from the harsh twisting of his wings. The fearsome Shadowsinger and Spymaster of the Night Court could only lay there as green peas rolled down on top of him, gravy sinking into his hair. 

“Not the table too,” Rhys whined. He’d had it specially commissioned for the River House. 

Lucien dragged Azriel off the glorified heap of wood chips before tossing him back onto the floor, fist raised in the air. 

“Alright! That’s enough,” Feyre said with a loud clap of her hands. “If you two want to fight, do it outside. I don’t want anyone breaking my house. Again.” 

The River House sighed in relief. 

Lucien paused just long enough for Rhysand to haul the redhead off his brother with little regard for anyone’s pride. 

“Get off me,” Lucien snapped, shoving Rhys away. “I can’t fucking believe this.” 

When Cassian finally let you down, you rushed over to Azriel’s side, swiping the handkerchief Rhys held out for you as you passed. 

Azriel sat on the floor, face impassive despite the brutal angle of his nose and the blood sprayed over his face and neck. You cradled his face, gently nudging it this way and that as you surveyed the damage. 

“Oh Azriel,” you breathed. 

Bruises bloomed over his cheekbones, muddy as paint water. His right eye was almost swollen shut, and his split lips bled anew when he gave you a tentative smile. 

“Hi,” he murmured reverently, leaning against the palm you cupped beneath his jaw.

Lucien gagged. “Can someone rip my eye out again? Both this time, please?”

“Damnit, Lucien!” You held the handkerchief up to Azriel’s nose, trying to stem the flow of blood before it could continue dripping from his chin. “Don’t be an asshole.” 

“Really, Y/n?! You’re defending him?!”

Azriel wrapped one arm protectively around your waist, eyes narrowed in a glare. With the blood coating his face he looked positively murderous. Like he’d done the beating and not Lucien. 

“Don’t yell at her,” he growled, his voice dangerously low. 

“For fuck’s sake.” 

It had been a momentary outburst — a rare occurrence with Lucien that held no anger towards you. But you still felt the flare of Azriel’s power as shadows wrapped around you in a layer so thick you couldn’t see past your waist. 

“Azriel—” You didn’t want another fight. “It's ok.” 

“No. It’s not.” 

Lucien was a mixed bag of emotions and he felt a dozen of them go off at the same time like fireworks. There was rage at the male who had the audacity to lay a hand on you, who’d hurt you if the rumours in Velaris were true. A bitter desire for revenge that still lay heavy on his hands after the utter hell he’d gone through watching Azriel and Elain for years. Protectiveness over you — his sister. And a tiny sliver of shame that grew every time you prodded the Shadowsinger’s bent nose and winced. 

“Do you know?” Lucien’s voice shook. 

“Do I know what, Lucien?” 

He swore and looked at everyone in turn. The members of the Inner Circle were trying their damned hardest not to meet his eyes, nervously angling their gaze towards the ground or out the windows like the evening fog was the most interesting thing they’d ever seen.

Fucking hell. You didn’t know.

Lucien reached down over your shoulder, grabbed Azriel’s nose and shoved it back into place with a loud pop. 

You cringed at the sound, but Azriel didn’t react. He was well acquainted with pain and knew how to hide it. 

He breathed through his reset nose, touching the swore flesh gingerly. “Thank you.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

“Lucien!” 

He clenched his teeth so hard he thought they might crack. Elain chose that moment to quietly slide her hand into his from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder so he was surrounded by the smell of wildflowers. She tapped the center of his chest, right where he’d told her he felt anchored by the bond, and then looked pointedly to where you kneeled on the ground in between Azriel’s legs. 

And Azriel… Azriel looked lost to the world. Centuries spent relegated to the shadows as a Spymaster had wiped away his feelings, at least outwardly. But everyone could plainly see the way he kept his hand on your arm, thumb brushing circles over your warm skin and the settling of his breathing the longer you held onto his jaw with careful fingers. 

Of all the people. It had to be him. 

“The Mother works in mysterious ways,” Elain whispered so only her mate could hear.

“Unfortunately for me.” 

Lucien took in a ragged breath and clenched his fists, waiting for the worst of his anger to fade away before he collected the books back into the discarded bag and held it out for you. 

A peace offering. 

You pulled Azriel back onto his feet, keeping one hand firmly clasped in his, and glared at your brother. “That was completely unnecessary.”

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” And he meant it. 

Your lips flattened. “Shouldn’t you be apologizing to Azriel?”

His mismatched eyes flared with irritation when they flickered to the Shadowsinger. 

Azriel stood quietly at your side, his face a motley of red, purple, and blue. Still handsome though, much to Lucien’s annoyance. 

“I’m not going to apologize for that. He deserved it. I’m just sorry you had to witness it.” Lucien hesitated, then said, “Y/n, I’m not usually like this. I don’t want you to think poorly of me just because of… him.” It was taking everything within him not to use more colorful language to describe the Shadowsinger. “It won’t happen again… unless you ask me to… which I hope you do.” 

Lucien wasn’t sure what to expect. He didn’t know what anger looked like painted on your features, or sadness, and he didn’t want to. So, it was a pleasant surprise when you only rolled your eyes and muttered, “First Helion and now you. Fucking males,” before slinging the bag over your shoulder and tugging Azriel towards your room. 

The Shadowsinger trailed after you without a second thought, heart hammering away in his chest. 

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Author's Note:

LET'S GO BIG BROTHER LUCIEEEEENNNNNNNNN

Y'all I had so much fucking fun writing the Lucien/Azriel fight scene. And to think that for a hot second I considered not writing it because I was worried it would be too repetitive to have Azriel get his ass beaten by both Helion and Lucien. Azriel, you poor, poor man, I'm sorry to have put you through all this. But also I'm not sorry at all.

Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! As always, please feel free to send me your thoughts!