june will be good june will be good june will be good june will be good june will be good june will be good june will be good june will be good june will be good june will be
Warnings: canon divergences; english isn't my first language; not proofread; canon violence; abuse/coercion; parental death (alluded); trauma (psychological and survival behaviors); dark and grim setting; female fmc; fmc described as pale with light long hair; sexual content and explicit situations (future chapters); power imbalance; objectification/dehumanization; non consensual touch (implied); psychologial manipulation; threat of violence; implied sexual exploitation (non-graphic).
Author's Note: About 1500 words. I promise I'll try and be more consistent with uploads, i actually have a few things in mind for this fic. so hope you like it. and from the next chapter it'll be more spicy or at least i'll try.
Comment, reblogs and likes are always welcomed and appreciated.
Ask if you want to be added or removed to the taglist.
Ch.1 | Ch.2 | Ch.3
4 || GRASS AND SHADOWS
“You belong to me until I decide otherwise.” The king’s grimy voice still ringed in her ears as she passed the Night Court’s High Lady and Lord, her eyes locked on the pavement under her, her hands slightly shaking at her sides. “You’ve got until the next bell to get your stuff and be out of here.” The blue eyed guard told her with a grin, “That’s unless you want to stay.” his gaze dragged over her slowly. “The King promised we’d be… rewarded for our efforts in changing your mind and keeping you here.” The other guard laughed and she needn’t look up to know why.
The room that had become her safe space for the past gods know how long, now felt too small, the air stiff with something she couldn’t quite place. “You’re thinking too loudly.” Fynlan’s voice came from her right as he sat up rubbing at his eyes, “Sorry to inconvenience your beauty sleep.” her voice dropped barely above a whisper, “I won’t do it anymore.” her brother’s eyes snapped to her and she found him mere inches from her before she even noticed him move. “What. Did. You. Just. Say?” She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. “You’re not saying what I think you’re saying right?” Her gaze dropped to his hands now tightly holding hers, “You can’t be serious. No, they’re sending them to die.” Fynlan moved to the small window, pacing the floor as she just stood there, “He can’t. Out of everyone there’s no way he would send you there. We can hide you. Use the magic mum used on us as kids. I can hide you.” she knew there was no way for her to stay. “The King said I’m his until he decides otherwise, so I guess I’m no use to him anymore.” Her voice so quite she could barely hear it herself. “No.” She reached for her brother’s wrist before he could move to the door and get himself in trouble. He faced her, taller than her by nearly a foot, their mother’s eyes and father’s nose staring back at her. In that moment she realized just how much she loved him. She loved him with a fierceness that she kept locked in her chest like something that would burn through the walls if she let it breathe.
“I promise to always care for Fynnie.”
She saw herself at barely 8 years of age, hair wild in the summer wind, feet warm in the sand, and her eyes locked on her 6 years old brother running toward the water. She had promised that to her mother one of the last time she saw her, and never had she felt more of a disappointment.
“I’ll come back.” She hadn’t even noticed she moved to her cot, the bag was empty apart from one old book, she hadn’t been supposed to have, and a little drawing her and Fynlan had made back when they first were brought to Hewn City.
“If you don’t I’ll kill you myself.” His voice was hoarse, she knew he was trying not to cry, to show her he was strong and capable of caring for himself, “Don’t give them any reason to hurt you. Keep your head down. Your mouth closed. And forget about me.” tears spilled from her eyes before she could stop them, her arms wrapping around him, “I will never.” he replied in her hair as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
The bell broke them apart, she wiped her tears on the sleeve of her tunic and turned to the door just as the guard opened it.
Voices surrounded her as she walked back to the Throne room, she knew what they were all saying, but she couldn’t bring herself to actually focus on them. Her mind was a mess of thoughts, memories, emotions. So many things she could barely walk straight. So distracted she would’ve bumped the guard’s back hadn’t it been for a small shadow keep her back. Her gaze shot up, looking around to find the Shadowsinger, but noone else was in the corridor. “I guess this is goodbye Little Sunshine.” The blue eyed guard’s hand brushed her cheek as he bent down close enough she could smell what he had for lunch for the past two days. She fought the urge to scrunch her nose as her eyes met his, a small, innocent smile spread on her lips as the guard started whispering nonsense in her ears.
The doors behind him opened.
“Bring her in.” The King’s voice carried, sharp and final. The guard stilled. She moved as if the last two minutes hadn’t happened, her smile still on her lips, too careful, too innocent. Her hands tight on the handles of her bag. A shadow curled around her ankle. Warm on her cold skin. A warmth she hadn’t felt in years. She kept her gaze down, like they taught her to, her steps light and even. Only when she was in front of the King did she look up. If looks could kill, she would be dead and buried at the hands of the King. She knew he was displeased. She knew he’d make her pay for this.
The shadow tightened on her ankle, just enough for her to know to turn her gaze to the High Lord and Lady in front of her.
“Your Highnesses.” Her voice a sweet whisper as she bowed, “Are you ready?” the High Lady asked with a softness that took her by surprise, “Y-yes.” “Then we shall go.” the High Lord’s voice forced her to finally look at him, violet eyes as she’d never seen before, and a power she knew way to well not to anger. She followed them out of the room and to the large balcony. “The first time is the worst. You’ll get used to it.” Before she could even ask the high Lady what she was referring to, shadows curled around her. Cooler than the one on her ankle, but warmer than the one on her wrist in that alcove. Strong arms wrapped around her waist from behind. “It’ll be quick.” a low voice murmured by her ear. She still. Not from fear. From uncertainty, her body didn’t seem to know what to do with the feeling of being held like that. “Don’t move.” The shadows tightened slightly, firm, certain, but never hurting.
The world folded suddenly. Not disappeared. Not vanished. Just folded on itself like those paper butterflies her father used to make her. The air caught in her throat, as cold rushed over her skin, through her bones, into something deeper she didn't have a name for.
Darkness swallowed everything. Silence. Cold. Quiet. Peace. And then light. Real light, the kind she hadn’t seen in so many years. It hit her all at once, warm, bright, alive. The arms around her loosened, but didn’t let go immediately.
Her feet hit the ground, and her knees buckled at the feeling of real grass under her bare feet. A giggle formed in her throat as her eyes looked up to a scarred hand waiting for her. She took it trying to regain he balance. Her other hand moved on instinct to what she thought was his shoulder. Only to be met by something firm. Not fabric. Not muscles. Something alive. A sharp groan escaped his mouth as she locked eyes with his hazel ones.
“S-sorry. I-i” Her lips betrayed her shyness as a knowing smile formed on them.
—
His hand was out before he even noticed her knees buckling. She took it. And something in his chest tightened at her warmth. He barely registered her other hand moving, that was until she touched his wing. He felt time stop. A groan escaped him, too raw and involuntary, before he could stop it. His shadows reacted instantly, snapping tight around him.
“S-sorry. I-i” His voice wavered exactly how it should have. But her hand stayed where it was for just a fraction too long before pulling away. Too smooth. Too controlled. And then she smiled. Not the careful, innocent one she wore in the Throne room. No this one was different, it wasn’t curiosity or apologetic. It was recognition. Like she knew exactly what she was doing.
He stayed there for a bit too long, not trusting himself to speak. But then she moved, getting on her feet and hurrying to Feyre. His wing still burned where she had touched him. The warmth he felt before slowly cooling as she walked away. She turned just slightly back to him, that knowing smile on her lips. and she winked at him.
Warnings: canon divergences; english isn't my first language; not proofread; canon violence; abuse/coercion; parental death (alluded); trauma (psychological and survival behaviors); dark and grim setting; female fmc; fmc described as pale with light long hair; sexual content and explicit situations (future chapters); power imbalance; objectification/dehumanization; non consensual touch (implied); psychologial manipulation; threat of violence; implied sexual exploitation (non-graphic).
Author's Note: This is a long one, at least for me. 1500 words. There's a few sentences i gagged while writing so there's that. Hope you enjoy it. Comment, reblogs and likes are always welcomed and appreciated.
Ch.1 | Ch.2 |
3 || THE COST OF LEAVING
The rumours turned out to be true. Slowly, sporadically, in a way that if you hadn’t been paid attention you wouldn’t have noticed, the King’s newest servants started disappearing.
She listened, she always listened.
The Court of Nightmares’ servant quarters, if it could even be called that, was a constant mix of voices, fears, quiet desperation and so low it could barely be heard hopes and dreams.
“I think I might be next, if you count who’s already left.” she overheard one of the cooks saying, while she gathered the King’s breakfast. “Well,” someone whispered as she stacked meat onto a plate, “we know who won’t ever leave.” Her smile didn’t falter as she locked eyes with the cook, “Oh, you’re here. You better get going the King won’t be happy if you’re late.” her words stung in a way she didn’t know how to explain.
Their words always stung.
The plate felt heavier in her hands. Her steps quiet and light, like her whole life was. She felt the guards’ eyes on her, their whispers, their touches as she moved through the corridor.
She thought of Fynlan’s eyes, his bright smile that day at the cove, their father’s warm and soft voice. “Don’t ever let anyone clip your wings and freedom.” Back then her and Fynlan had barely nodded, they were kids, barley 15 years old between the two, “Come on, now Theryn let’s not ruin this day being all philosophical.” “Yes dad can we just go swimming and see the fishes?” Fynlan’s sweet childish voice broke in her mind like a bad dream.
She didn’t often think of her parents, and when she did she knew to stop before it could get her in trouble.
“We thought you got lost Sunshine” The guards’ blue eyes were somehow icier than usual, his voice hitting her just the way he knew they would, she smiled up at him as her hand reached for the handle. The other guard smiled down at her as his hand closed on hers, hard enough to hurt, light enough not to bruise, “You know she’d never be late for her King. Am i right, princess?” the urge to scrunch her nose as his breath hit her was so hard, but she just smiled, “C-could I go? T-the King i-is waiting. He w-wouldn’t be h-happy to know w-why I’m late.” her voice came out so sweet, so innocent, so sincere, so wrong.
Fynlan’s eyes were the first thing she noticed as she walked in. Their usual light and hope nowhere to be found. her brows furrowed slightly in question. “Take a sit, Sunshine.” The King’s words broke her stare, “I-I c-couldn’t. Yo-your Highness.” she tried to keep her voice steady but quiet, her eyes now down on the floor, her trembling hand down her sides. “I insist.” She looked around trying to find a friendly face, someone to tell her everything would be okay. But no one was looking at her. Fynlan’s eyes were nowhere to be found. She dared look at the King’s eyes to be sure this wasn’t a test. Nothing could be seen in the void black of his irises. His greasy and wrinkled hand tugged her tunic and she fell on the chair next to him.
“So tell me, anything strange happened?” His voice nice in the way she knew was trying to get her in trouble. “I-I don- I don’t think I know what you m-mean.” her eyes locked on her hands in her lap, “Don’t get shy on me now, Sunshine.” one of his hand slid its way to her lap, curling around hers in a way that could have been nice, had it belonged to literally anyone else. “You're my good girl right? you want to be my good Sunshine.” She fought the urge to gag at his words, “Y-yes.” she simply said as bile rose to her throat. “Then enlighten me, what little stories have they been whispering?” She looked around, or tried to as his nails found place in her pale skin. “NO-nothing worth troubling y-you m-my Lord.” His eyes studied her. She kept her thoughts on the food, on the mundane complaints she heard the other servants talk about. “Is that so? My little Sunshine wouldn’t lie to me. Would she?” Another rise of bile in her throat as she smiled at him, her hand curling over his on her wrist, “I could never My Lord” she thought everything in her to keep her voice steady and hide the bite in them. “Well then. You can go back to whatever it is you do.” “Thank you.” Her voice drowned out by the guards’ footsteps as the walked in to get her back to her cell.
“Care to tell me what that was about?” Fynlan asked the moment the door locked behind her. “I know as much as you do.” “So the king just decided to ask you something like that for the fun of it?” “I mean. you know he likes watching us squirm around him, terrified for our lives.” Fynlan was quiet for a moment, sat on his cot, eyes out the small window, probably trying to remember what sunshine and real fresh air felt like. “Do you know?” His voice barely above a whisper. “I know something is going on. And some people have been disappearing.” She felt it then, the coolness of his shadows down her back, “You were the one who told me about the rumours, and now you’re scared they’re turning out to be true?” her eyes looked around, she knew he wasn’t here. She hoped he would be. “What if he’s not actually letting them go to Night court? What if it’s just a distraction and he’s actually killing people?” “Fyn…. Why would he kill his own servants? He’d have to start doing things on his own. That doesn’t make any sense.” “Don’t come begging me to help you when he’ll kill you.” He turned around to stare at the stone wall before giving her the time to respond.
She didn’t remember falling asleep. She didn’t remember saying goodbye to Fynlan before his shift started. She didn’t remember wearing a black gown with dark navy blue simple designs on it. She did remember waking up to the guard banging on her door for her to get ready.
The door opened to the guards’ blue eyes already on her, looking at her body in a way that made her sick to her stomach. Or it could have been the fact that she was wearing something new and had no idea who dressed her. Or maybe the fact that for the first time in their lives she hadn’t wished Fynlan good luck before his shift. Or the fact that the King never summoned her this late in the night.
“D-do you k-know what His Highness mi-might n-need?” she tried asking the guard, but her voice came out stuttering and too quiet for him to hear. “We hoped to get a little more time with you, Sunshine.” The guard said looking at his friend and then down at her. “W-what?” they smiled at her confusion, at the way her eyes widened, her mouth parted, and her cheeks blushed under their gaze.
The door opened before her, the King’s hand stretched to her, she moved without thinking, knowing he was waiting for her to take it. “You remember our guests,” he said, she nodded slightly at him, “They paid your debt.” his voice dropped so only she could hear, “Only yours.” her breath caught, Fynlan’s face flashed in her mind." “You’re a smart little one. You belong to me until I decide otherwise.” He paused. A warning. “And i decided to let you go. For now.” Her heart stopped. Her breath caught in her throat. “They will be taking you with them.” His voice stern, firm, no emotion, no snarky undertone.
She looked at them finally, the violet eyed man looking every bit the High Lord of the Night Court, beside him his High Lady, with bright eyes and an unreadable stance.
She could feel his shadows. But he was nowhere to be seen.
—
Feyre was looking the last bit of the Night Court’s High Lady, her light hair down her bare back, a contrast to the dark backless gown she was wearing. Rhysand stood next to her in all his High Lord mighty power. But Azriel didn’t really care about them, he knew they were here on business. He knew Elain had been fighting Feyre’s decision for a long time. He knew he had, for the first time in his life, to will his shadows to him.
Rhysand had told him to wait for them, to be on lookout. And for the first time it was hard for Azriel to be focused on his job, when he could feel the pull of her in him. His shadows fighting him to be freed.
Warnings: haven't read the books in a while so there'll be canon divergences; english isn't my first language; not proofread; canon violence; mention of torture; abuse/coearcion; parental death (alluded); Trauma (psychological and survival behaviors); dark and grim setting; female fmc; fmc described as pale with light long hair; sexual content and explicit situations (in future chapters); Non-graphic but potentially uncomfortable themes related to power imbalance and exploitation.
Author's Note: I'm sorry for the late upload, I just got a promotion at work, which means more hours. I also still have to study so my schedule is all over the place. I'll try and be more consistent.
Ch. 1 |
2 || A VARIABLE IN THE PATTERN
The Night Court delegation was supposed to stay for three days.
They stayed for seven.
She knew, because she counted. She counted everything in Hewn City. She had started when she was first brought there, a way to keep track of everything. Numbers became her friends, a way of understanding the world around her. She knew now the number of the steps between her chambers and the great hall (forty-two), the number of guards posted at the King's door on any given night, when she wasn’t asked to be there (never fewer than four, never more than six). So she counted the days they spent there because she needed to know how long any variable element would stray her from her routines.
She throve in routines. Her mother used to say that straying from routines would get them killed. And how right had she been.
So she and Fynlan followed routines to a T, to the last second. Almost in a way to homage their parents. Almost like a religion. In a place where no gods ever would be.
“Have you heard the rumours?” Asked Fynlan on the second night. “You'll have to be more specific. There's new rumours every other hour between these halls.” She replied, her voice the way it only ever was with him, between the safety of their cage. “The King might sell some of us to the Night Court.” He was quiet for a moment, watching her, studying her, “There’s already some names on the list.” “Not mine. Never mine.” she whispered, so low she hoped her brother would miss it. The sound of keys broke their bubble as a guard opened their door to hush Fynlan to work.
His bright smile never faltered, not even as the guard pushed him against the black wall.
Sleep never found her that night. Sleep hardly found her anymore. So she moved, in the quiet of the night, hidden by shadows only she knew how to find. She found herself standing in front of the old, forgotten and hidden bench at the far end of the library, a place rarely visited by anyone else, not willingly at least. As the cold stone pressed against her through the thin tunic, her mind wandered. She wondered if those shadows, that touched her so coolly the day before, ever slept, or if they were always spying on everything and everyone for their master. She wondered, and how she knew she shouldn’t, how his hands would feel.
Scarred. They would feel scarred.
A whisper of something she couldn’t quite name broke her train of thoughts. She picked her book up and stared at the words on it.
“The library is closed.” She said, pleasantly, to her book. “It’ll open at the ninth morning bell.”
“And yet here you are.” His voice came from the doorway, quiet, the kind that takes up space without demanding it. She noted. “I have a key. You on the other hand don’t.” Her voice dropped to something barely above a whisper. “Shadowsinger.”
She turned to look at him now, the way his hazel eyes were almost gold in the low light. the way his face tilted slightly at her. The way his shadows moved around him in slow, idle patterns, it almost felt like watching someone breathe. His shadows went still at the name, in a way that felt less like stillness and more like attention. “Not my name.” He said simply, “Voices say you’re the King’s Sunshine.” he added after a moment, his words carefully chosen, as if talking to a wild animal, as if studying her and her situation. “You’re the High Lord’s spymaster and listen to commoners’ gossip?” Something in his eyes flickered for a second, too fast for her to read and understand whatever it meant. “Commoners are known for always telling the truth. When given the right reason to.”
Silence stretched between them. A silence that told them more than words ever could. His shadows drifted toward her, slow, unhurried. She stayed still and let them. She knew she shouldn’t have. But she didn’t care. She felt the coolness of it on her wrist, the same place it already brushed less than twenty hours before. She looked up at him. He was already watching her, an expression she couldn’t read on his features.
“They like me.” She said sweetly. “Do you like me?” her sweet and teasing voice like venom in his ears as his shadows tightened on her wrist, cool and deliberate, like a warning. Or a promise.
“Next time wait for the ninth bell.” Was all she added as she disappeared behind a bookshelf. Leaving Azriel alone with his shadows.
She barely made it back to her room before the guards brought Fynlan back after his shift.
“Had a good night?” He asked sitting on his cot as she peered at him from her blanket. “I was sleeping like a baby. Before someone decided to come here like an orchestra of plates.” She said turning her back to him, “Well in that case I’m sorry I woke your beauty sleep. Cauldron knows you need it.”
Her mind wandered back to those shadows, those hazel eyes, that smirk barely visible and only when he thought nobody noticed. She was just studying him. He was a variable in her routine. He could become a problem if she didn’t pay attention. She was only studying and noting him for her safety. Nothing more. Nothing less.
She was a good liar. She had been lying, in one form or another, for most of her life. But she was not quite good enough to lie to herself about this, and she knew it, which irritated her more than the thing itself.
He was watching her
—-
He was watching her.
Not in the way the Court of Nightmares watched her . Not as someone watching a play. Not as someone watching something decorative, who’s only purpose was fill an empty space.
He watched her the way his shadows moved.
Quietly, without announcement, from angles no one ever thought to.
°°°°°
Please be nice. Like and comment if you want. if you don't like it please don't be rude I'll cry.
Warnings: haven't read the books in a while so there'll be canon divergences; english isn't my first language; not proofread; canon violence; mention of torture; abuse/coearcion; parental death (alluded); Trauma; dark and grim setting; female fmc; fmc described as pale with light long hair; sexual content and explicit situations (in future chapters); title and pov to review (suggestions are welcomed).
Ch.2 |
1 | THE GIRL FROM HEWN
Waking up to shouts, fights and people running like madmen wasn’t unusual in Hewn City. Hell it’s more the times someone dies or gets tortured than not.
She sat up with a yawn, her hair a matted mess, “Nice of you to finally join the land of the living.” a way too familiar nasal voice snapped her out of her yawn.
“Father Below, knock next time.” she muttered, sliding her arms into the coarse tunic that smelled of mold and sweat. “And miss the chance to scare you? No, thank you.” Fynlan’s light eyes scanned her, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. She looked at him. Then back at her broken mirror noticing the way both their hair and pale skin were almost blinding against the black marble floors and stone walls.
Her bright eyes scanned the room. the floor was sticky with something she really didn’t like remembering, the air carried the world famous iron tang, she tried so hard to get used to but still had problems with.
She yawned again, arms stretched over her head, she noticed the look on the younger guy’s face and opened her mouth to complain, but immediately thought against it. The first thing kids learn in Hewn City is that complains are expensive, deadly if you’re lucky. So she kept her thoughts to herself as she finished getting ready.
“Are you ready? Or should I let His Highness know his favourite toy will be late….. again.” Fynlan’s voice dropped slightly at the last word, reminding her just how much trouble she’d gotten in the day before. “Wouldn’t dream of that.” “Ever the perfect Sunshine.”
Sunshine. They called her that sometimes, and she hated it. She once loved it. When it came from their mother’s mouth. When it came covered in love and warmth. Now it just seemed too easy. Too simple.
“Thank you.” She muttered in a soft whisper to the guard opening their door. His dark eyes locked on her as a grim smile spread on his face. She wanted to flinch as his hands brushed her figure in ways she knew they weren’t supposed to, but the thought of making a scene made her sick to her stomach. So she kept walking.
The echoes from the hall grew loud, a fight breaking out somewhere at the end of the left corridor, someone yelling for a guard. She liked to think she was used to the chaos and noise by now, But she still flinched internally at the way too loud yells. Though a tiny, deep, mischievous part of her loved to use the chaos to her advantage. She loved planning how to make chaos her own.
They entered the throne room with almost as much importance as a speck of dust. Noone around turned to see, or greet, or even acknowledge them. And she knew she should be thankful for it, but she also knew that meant the king was in a very foul mood. Which meant she had a very hard day waiting for her.
“Father Below finally you’re here.” A screechy female voice exclaimed bringing the girl back to reality. “Y-yes. S-sorry, I had trouble with the f-fights.” She tried to excuse herself but the older woman’s gaze told her nothing could save her now, “I don’t care. And neither does the King so go on now. He’s waiting for you.”
The inhale she took did a poor job at bringing air in her lung, but she moved through it anyway. Footsteps soft and quiet. Breathing as silent as the bugs living in her walls. Hair straight down her spine the way she knew the King liked. Her gaze locked on the floor in front of her, as any good toy was supposed to keep.
His hand touched her wrist before she even stilled her walk, “Right on time, Sunshine.” the King’s voice felt like poison in her ears, the stench of his breath like acid in her nose. But she smiled. “We were just talking about you.” He continued, his grip on her wrist tightened as she kept her eyes on the marble floor. “Well, don’t be shy now. Show our guest that pretty smile.” Her smile, fake, mechanical, manufactured. A big contrast to her eyes. Her father always told her she could never lie, because her eyes always had a spark in them. And she knew even decades after their death that spark was still in her bright eyes.
She looked at the three new men in the room. She wished she could say she noticed the violet eyes one first, or the tall guy all muscles and man buns. But her eyes didn’t care about them. Neither did her brain. No. She noticed the shadows. Little tendrils of black smoke swirling around their owner’s shoulders, tight and antsy in a way she knew he didn’t like being noticed. Yet years in the Court of Nightmares made her aware of any tension and uneasiness.
“Well. Go on now.” The King’s foul voice brought her gaze back to him, and she knew Fynlan would have to spend yet another night tending to her. She turned on her heels and left as quietly as she had came in.
—-
Azriel knew the moment his shadows changed.
They rarely reacted to anything in Hewn City anymore. Not the cruelty, not the whispers, not the stench of fear that clung to the marble halls.
But tonight they stirred. Curled tighter around his shoulders.
She walked in. Light in the darkness. Her eyes locked on his shadows. He felt it then. Something he never felt before. Something he thought he’d never deserve to feel.
The long white dress, long light hair draped over her back, eyes so wide and full of light that none of them could quite place the last time they saw such light, pale skin from years of hiding in the shadows, were a huge contrast to the dark marble of the floor and walls surrounding her.
And just as swiftly and quietly as she walked in she left.
Rhysand had brought them down to Hewn City on official business, some merch trade he couldn0t even remember about now. His brain was stuck on her. The King’s Sunshine. He could hear Rhys negotiating, talking business, money, power like he was born to be. And let’s be honest he was. But Azriel was too busy keeping his shadows quiet and on him to actually partake in the negotiation.
Only when Rhysand and Cassian beelined to and out the door, did Azriel finally let his shadows free. And gods how he hoped he hadn't.
Because there, hidden in the darkest, smallest alcove of the corridor was her. Her light hair did nothing to help her blend in and hide. Her eyes were focused on her hands, picking at her nails not caring if she drew blood. His shadows darted to her before he could even think of stopping them. She flinched as they brushed her wrist. A beat too late. A practice delay of someone who’d learned to act afraid, something he’d mastered himself as the High Lord’s Spymaster. She looked up then, eyes darting from Cassian to Rhysand to Azriel’s shadows.
Rhysand was first to approach her, a calm presence that did nothing to ease her anxieties. “W- who are you?” her voice barely above a whisper as she looked behind him to Cassian and Azriel, well Azriel’s shadows. “I- I can’t talk to anyone, go away.” Never in their hundreds of years had any of them heard such softness, such quiet, such fear. Rhysand opened his mouth to say something but was swiftly shut off as she moved past them and back to the throne room.
The three Illyrian men exchanged a glance that said more than a thousand words. A promise to each other. A promise and an Oath to that little ray of sunshine they found in such a mess of a place.
°°°°°
Please be nice. Like and comment if you want. if you don't like it please don't be rude I'll cry.
Suggestions for the title are welcomed.
What Narrator pov would you prefer?
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Second person
Voting ended onMar 23
divider credits: @diviniyae
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Based on these thoughts i had last night: Imagine Azriel and the Inner Circle meeting the girliest, shyest, most innocent, never even held hands romantically, sweet ray of sunshine, spring and flowers loving reader. And everyone just decides they have to protect her from the world. Only for her to turn out to be the freakiest, nerdiest, brattiest person in the world. And only Azriel knows. Imagine her telling Azriel the freakiest, kinkiest thing ever. And him slowly losing his mind because he knows noone will ever believe she said something like *THAT*
Warnings: I haven't written in almost three years so beware, not proofread, female reader, mention of long light hair, no real physical description, no Y/N, english isn't my first language, suggestive content, fade to black, sexual references, bratty reader, protective Inner Circle, i probably missed something.
This could probably be a full fic, these are just thoughts i had as little snippets of what it could be.
If you were to ask anyone in Velaris about her, everyone would say: “She’s probably from Spring Court, there’s no way she’s from Hewn City.”
The Inner Circle themselves had their doubts when they first saw her.
The long white dress, long light hair draped over her back, eyes so wide and full of light that none of them could quite place the last time they saw such light, pale skin from years of hiding in the shadows, were a huge contrast to the dark marble of the floor and walls surrounding her.
Rhysand was first to approach her, a calm presence that did nothing to ease her anxieties. “Wh- who are you?” her voice barely above a whisper as she looked behind him to his bodyguards, or so that’s what her mind thought they were. “I- I can’t talk to anyone, go away.” Never in their hundreds of years had any of them heard such softness, such quiet, such fear.
The three Illyrian men exchanged a glance that said more than a thousand words. A promise to each other. A promise and an Oath to that little ray of sunshine they found in such a mess of a place.
[…]
“Are we even sure she’s real? I mean have you ever met anyone more obsessed with flowers and baking than her?” Cassian’s hoarse voice broke the quiet of their evening. The sun setting in the distance, the warmth giving way to the night’s colder air, the balcony glowing in shades of gold and orange looks almost like a crown, an aureola of pure softness and love around her frame as she looked around in awe of the view and her new life.
“I made you those rolls you like, they’re on the dining table.” her soft voice almost floated to their ears as she addressed Cassian, completely unaware of what the Inner Circle was talking about.
[…]
“And then the shopkeeper let me have the rest of these seeds for free because his daughter said she liked my dress.” Her sweet voice made the rambling bearable even for someone like Amren, who couldn’t care less about anyone, let alone anyone’s flowers. “That’s very sweet of him. So what flowers were they?” Amren asked feigning interest, though for some reason deep, deep, deep down she liked listening to the younger girl rambling about everything and nothing.
[…]
“It's actually no use talking about this, i mean we all saw Azriel's. We all know his is the biggest.” Mor's voice was smooth as Rita's liquor, “Our little flower could tell us though.” Nesta responded elbowing the girl, who's only reply was a deep cherry red blush creeping up her neck all the way to the tip of her ears, '“I- I don't know what you're implying.” She stuttered as her eyes shifted to the Spymaster at the other end of the bar.
[…]
“Az…” Her sweet voice stole him from his work as she slowly walked in his room, “Yes Lily?” Azriel’s shadows immediately went to her as her heart skipped a beat at the pet name.
“Take your pants off.”
Few were the things that could shake and shock the Spymaster, and this little ray of sunshine, all love and flowers and baked goods was number one on the list.
“Well? You forgot how to listen?” her voice stern in a way he knew was only for him.
Slow but steady steps, eyes locked on his shadows, he’d know that look anywhere, “What do you want My Love?” his voice silky and deep just like he knew she liked, “You. Your Shadows. Your fingers. Your tongue. Your cock.” as if on command the cold shadows surrounded her, pinning her in place as their master slowly stood up, gaze locked on the girl. Love, adoration, and deep down confusion. “This all you can do?” she teased, “And here i was wanting to see what that big bad wingspan of yours actually meant.” she could feel the shadows tighten their hold on her wrists, neck and ankles, “Show me what the famous Night Court Spymaster can do. Or don’t I’ll find someone else who will.”
She tugged at the shadows as he came closer inch by inch, her mind fuzzy with need, her body hot, her core tight and wet. “Please” she whispered, breathy and borderline begging. "Be a good boy and give me what i want. You need it as much as i want it.”
Even now, years since they first met, years since he first held her hand, this part of her shocked him. how could such an innocent, shy, ray of sunshine secretly be, want and do stuff he knew not even the workers at Rita’s nor at Hewn CIty would ever imagine doing.
Imagine Azriel and the Inner Circle meeting the girliest, shyest, most innocent, never even held hands romantically, sweet ray of sunshine, spring and flowers loving reader.
And everyone just decides they have to protect her from the world.
Only for her to turn out to be the freakiest, nerdiest, brattiest person in the world. And only Azriel knows.
Imagine her telling Azriel the freakiest, kinkiest thing ever. And him slowly losing his mind because he knows noone will ever believe she said something like *THAT*
Not me being so disappointed in those menchildren, that I just upped and created a fantasy (fourth wing x ACOTAR crossover) hockey team so I could have something to daydream about.
well 🧍♀️ as a reminder this blog is NOT a safe space for trump supporters but it IS a safe place for women, queers, trans ppl, people of color, undocumented people, and any marginalized group.
Pairings: Rafe Cameron x OC!Isla McCewan; kook!king x pogue
Chapter warnings: Asshole kooks, kids, mention of drugs (like one), mention of scars, my writing, not proofread, let me know if I forgot something.
WC: 1.295
Disclaimer: All characters are aged up cus I don’t feel comfortable writing about teenagers romance and there’s some really strong themes on here. I will try and have a better schedule with two updates a week but I don’t assure anything as I’m pretty busy. I promise it’ll get better and into the story soon. Let me know if anyone wants to be in like a tag list or something.
The smell of weed and rain surrounded her as she slept on the little yoga mat. The sound of branches cracking, angry voices and slamming doors woke her up from the restless slept she had that night. Isla’s eyes went wide as she recognised the voices and suddenly, she was five again, running and hiding from her parents because she breathed too loud or looked at them a second too long.
Her feet moved on their own, her breathing shallow but silent as she put some clothes in her backpack before jumping out the window and running towards her neighbours’ house.
The yellow bricks and red roof a wild contrast to her black and grey shed, the voices coming from within so happy, cheerful and full of laughter another opposite to the always angry shouts that filled her house.
She walked in as she had done everyday since childhood, “Hola Bombon.” Sofia’s warm voice greeted her as she sat on a stool at the kitchen counter, “You got through alright?” “I’m still here so there’s that.” Isla’s tired voice was such a strange sound in that house, “You guys okay? I can stay here and help if you need anything.” she suggested accepting the cup of coffee from Ms. Flores’ hand, “No carino, no te preocupes, vas a trabajar estaremos bien.” The older woman said pinching Isla’s cheek before leaving the two friends alone in the kitchen, “You got work?” asked the blonde, “Sam didn’t tell us anything about staying home so I guess I’ll have to show up and see. You going to the Lighthouses?” “Yeah… you want a ride?” Sofia’s smile widened as the younger girl showed her a second helmet, “Go before my mum sees me.” “Oh come on, she loves me, for some absurd reason.” “That doesn’t mean she likes you riding this.” “It was literally your parents who got it for me…” “Yeah, make it make sense.” They laughed as they got on the bike and sped to the Country Club.
Isla parked her bike just outside the gate of the neighbourhood, before smiling to the guard and walking in towards her boss’ house. Her eyes wandered around, studying and assessing the damage Agatha had done to that side of the Island, as she suspected nothing major had happened, a few trees had fallen here and there but it was nothing compared to the shit show that was the Cut.
“Hello” she yelled walking in the house before being greeted by a running 2-year-old in tears, “Mum wants me to wear the ugly dress.” The baby said jumping in Isla’s arms, “Oh come on now. It was your favourite just a few days ago.” said the woman walking in with a peach and green dress in her hands, “And let Isla breath, she just got here.” Isla let the little girl down giving her a look before she accepted her fate and let her mum dress her, “You didn’t have to come honestly, we’re fine, but as you’re here why don’t you guys go out for lunch as I get the generator going and clean the backyard.” Suggested the woman pushing her three kids and Isla out the door.
The four shared before getting in their mum’s car. The drive wasn’t as long as they’d all liked it to be, but it surely was filled with laughter and silly jokes and banters.
“And so I woke up to Luce snoring at the feet of my bed like she was a dog or something.” Said James laughing and looking back at his sister, “Where did you yesterday Isla?” the squeaky 4 year old asked her as she settled the girl in the stroller and started walking to the door, “You’re old enough to know pogues sleep in caves.. You should teach them Lighthouse who knows they might grow up to think she’s not just the help.” Matthew’s voice ringed in her ears as she pushed the door open and the two boys inside trying so hard not to punch the guy. “Don’t listen to him okay? I’m sure Isla has a really lovely house on the Cut, with many flowers and a sea front backyard, right Isla?” “Yeah, sure.” She tried to sound convinced but reality always came creeping in in moments like this, she followed the eldest boy to the pool and sat all their things on the chairs before covering them in sunscreen and letting them go in the water as she finally got to sit and think. All around her families, kids, groups of friends were having fun, completely unaware of how badly just the other side of the Island had it last night, it was like the hurricane didn’t even touch Figure 8, everything was completely fine and perfectly done, hot water and electricity worked like every other day and none of them had to think if they’d even have a house to go back to if something like this happened again.
“Would you like something to drink ma’am?” Sofia’s sweet voice woke her from her thoughts, “Why yes, a Dry Martini, go on fetch it now.” she said only receiving a thump on the back of her head, “Wow is that how you treat your clients? And you wonder why you don’t make more in tips…” the girls laughed at each other before Matthew’s voice came once again ruining everything, “You know there’s actual paying guests here. You should start doing your job better if you want to keep your shithole of a house.” “I swear I’ll kill him one day:” whispered Isla as Sofia put on her fakest smile and moved to him and his friends.
“You sure you can be here McCewan?” Rafe Cameron’s voice always hit her way too deep than she’d ever wanted to admit. She never knew when or how it started but since she could remember he’d been that one stupid pebble in her shoe she never could get rid of, no matter how much she tried, “James and Wheezie had a “date” planned for like six weeks now, who am I to go against true love?” ocean blue eyes locked on her, studying her, she knew he could see her better than anyone, for some reason he’d always seen her in a way not even her best friends could.
He could see the dark circle under her eyes, the little freckles that covered her nose after she spent too much time in the sun, the white scars coming just a tid out of her cargo and her sleeves, now that he’d think about it he’d never seen her in anything other than long pants and long sleeved shirts or hoodies, no matter how hot it was outside.
“Take a photo it’ll last longer. And who knows you might need it late at night.” Her voice was poison to him, giving him almost the same effect those lines he did at Barry’s did. “You shouldn’t talk like that to the people who own your future.” “The moment you’ll own my future is the moment I’ll let Matthew Gold hit it.” “You’ll regret saying that Dove.” She cringed at the nickname, memories came back rushing as she tried to keep them down, tears threatened to spill as she stood up and with a simple glare Sofia was at her side keeping an eye on the three kids while the blonde rushed to the bathroom, locking the door behind her and letting the tears stream free on her face.
She didn’t know how long she spent in the bathroom when a knock came, she wiped her tears and splashed water on her face before opening the door and freeze in her steps as her eyes met the person in front of her.
Pairings: Rafe Cameron x OC!Isla McCewan; kook!king x pogue
Chapter warnings: asshole kooks, English isn’t my first language, trauma(?), kids (idk my friends told me to put it as a tw), swear words, not proofread, let me know if I missed something.
WC: 1.456
Disclaimer: All characters are aged up cus I don’t feel comfortable writing about teenagers romance and there’s some really strong themes on here.
All her life she’s known never to cross the big names of the island and all her life she’s been in the shadow, working her ass off everyday since she was a kid, never giving those big names any reason to know of her and, especially, never giving them any reason to get mad at her and have her as their rage target.
The air was different here than in the Cut, it felt better, lighter, it smelled like sea and home cooked meals, which wasn’t all that new but the lack of weed, gasoline and nicotine sure helped the fantasies that this was her life, this was where she lived, who she was and the three young kids running and laughing around her in the backyard filled her heart more than anything ever had before.
It’ll happen, you’ll have the life you deserve, just a few more months and you’re gonna be out of here, never looking back and never having to worry about any of them ever again.
Those were the thoughts that lived rent free in her head, dreams and fantasies she deep down knew would never become reality, but what’s the hurt in imagining?
“Isla! Isla! Look what we can do.” The little dark haired boy giggled pushing his sister on the swing giving her the feeling of flying out and about in the sky, “Wow. You know if you push her even faster she might fly over to Bermudas.” She replied smiling at the kids, “I wanna go to Bermudas.” said the girl pouting. “I know you do Luce, mama will take you there one day. I promise.” “I’ll plan everything, and we go for Christmas what you say Luce?” shouted a voice from inside the house, “Gotta ask first Jamesie, you know we can’t just up and go to Bermudas.” “As if they could ever tell her no, come on Is, it’d be vacation for you too, not like mum can’t do it alone.” “What can’t I do alone, James?” the calming voice of Emily Lighthouse came sudden like a rainstorm in the fall to her ears, “Luce wants to go to the Bermudas…” explained the oldest, “And do you know what the Bermudas are baby?” asked the woman picking the still pouting little girl up from the swing.
Isla hang back a few moments watching the older woman walk inside followed by her two loving boys, her heart hurt at the scene, her memory blank searching for a moment like that with her parents, a loving parent who’d go out their way to make sure she was safe.
One day.
As she walked in the house, she had now been working at for the past six years, she couldn’t help but let her eyes wonder around studying the luxury and money this side of the Island showed off like bread to birds.
“Sweetheart I asked if you’d like to stay for dinner, I made way too much food for us four only.” Isla’s baby blue eyes widened at the woman’s words, not that it was unusual for her to spend the night at the house, there had been years when she spent more time there than at her own place, but something in her still warmed at the kind request, she knew the Lighthouses weren’t a normal Kook family, they were always nice to her, treating her basically like family, never ever doubting her even when the rest of Figure 8 would go out their way to make her the bad guy. “No, thank you. You enjoy it for me though. I actually have plans tonight.” The girl said quietly, “Well you’ll tell us all about your night another day then. But please take something home. And please be safe they say Agatha’s headed this way.” Isla’s cheeks warmed at the kind words of the rich woman in front of her, she reluctantly accepted the food, got her helmet and jacket and said her goodbyes before closing the door behind her and starting her walk out the neighbourhood.
“Going back to your tree house McCewan?” a deep, unfortunately too familiar voice said in the darkening sunset light, “Look, I’m just leaving, I don’t want any trouble.” said the girl with her head down and her eyes on the pavement, “Oh come on, not even a snarky comment? Where’s the Isla McCewan everyone’s always talking about?” “She’s tired and just wants to go home and sleeps, so can you let me pass.” “But where’s the fun in that then? You know you can always come to my place, it sure as fuck is safer than whatever shit hole you live in.” the brunette kook said walking way too close to the girl, finally caging her between him and the wall behind her, she knew she could have gotten out of there really easily, if there’s one good thing that came out of the Cut it’s knowing how to defend herself, but she was tired of having to defend herself and she knew no matter how bad things turned out to be it was always gonna be her fault, so she simply looked at him hoping he’d let her go with a sudden change of mind. What she didn’t expect was the Kook king to come up to them, “She’s not worth it Gold, trust me girls like her are not as fun as you’d think.” her eyes moved to meet Rafe Cameron’s dilated pupils and she knew he didn’t do it out of the good of his heart, the younger kook looked behind him and left them with a scoff, “One day McCewan, I assure you.” he said before going back in the garage he had came out of.
Isla picked her jacket, that had fallen off her grip and started making her way back to her bike, “Wow, not even a thank you. I knew you Pogues don’t have manners but that’s just low.” the older Kook said walking behind her, “Thank you your majesty Rafe Cameron I’ll make sure to offer you my biggest pig and cow to thank you properly.” she said not even looking behind at him, she simply couldn’t, she knew the rumors, she knew what was being said about him and she had promised herself never to go back there, not to that at least. “You really shouldn’t let that tongue run like that, you never know how people might react.” He said with a grip on her wrist, that wasn’t as tight as he’d wanted it to be, “Also you should really look at the person who’s talking to you, it’s very disrespectful not doing it.” she turned to him, his red eyes bored in her blue ones with something she had never been able to read, “Oh thank you Rafy, you’re my saviour I will never be able to thank you properly, please let me suck you off to show you how grateful I am.” Her words were laced with sarcasm and a poison he knew she only used for and with him, “Come on Cameron go back to your underground bunker and cuddle up on daddy’s lap, I’m sure he wouldn’t want his precious baby out here in such dangerous weather.” his jaw twitched and clenched for a second, “At least I have a dad who cares about me and my safety.” “Keep telling yourself that, maybe it’ll become true.” she said getting out of his grip and finally making it to her bike, once her helmet was on, visor down and the bike had started she let her mind wonder and her throat felt full of thorns as she left Figure 8, Rafe Cameron watching her from afar holding on that conversation.
The lights were out in the little black and grey shed she had to call home, she had left her bike at the Flores’ gate not to make a noise and not to be seen, she opened the door praying whatever god was watching that the house was empty, her heart and breathing the only noises in the house as she walked and closed the door behind her, the room was the same as she had left, mouldy black walls, broken pieces of a dresser and lamps were scattered on the floor, the broken and way too hard yoga mat and her baby blanket the only place where she could sleep.
She laid on the mat pulling the blanket over her legs as she stared at the ceiling, a few of her old glow in the dark stars still stand between a mould stain and the other, she watched them, memories of her childhood came to mind as she fell asleep surrounded by the creaks and raindrops noises.
Isla McCewan had it all figured out, take a gap year after high school to work and save up before moving to Washington to study criminology and leave behind this hell she had to call home behind.
But she should've know not to raise her hopes too high, not when her parents were known coke addicts with not a cent to their names.
Not when they got in debt with the worst possible family on the island.
Not when she found herself in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Rafe Cameron x Isla McCewan
Kook king x pogue oc
Enemies to forced partners to lovers
annaxmalina
baratheonpilled
pixelskylines
dededos
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stormborns
