fairydustblossom

[fairydustblossom]

Domestic

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 1530

Synopsis: Az watches you get ready for an event. He's never seen the process before and is extremely taken by it. It feels so personal to him and he can’t explain it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’d never known an intimacy so sweet. It’d likely become an injury he’d carry afterwards when it came to an end.

A taste of domesticity he didn’t even realize he’d been missing out on.

Hours left for the gala they’d be attending, and you were getting ready. The sweetness of watching it unfold was meditative. A window to your most private hours, so glaringly personal that it felt like a sampling of commitment.

He looked forward to this—it quickly became Azriel’s favourite part of the day. All his to savour.

He’d known yearning, he’d known the sex. Had pined over Mor for centuries, pictured a life with her, ached for the void he felt. Coveted pretty females, kept lovers to satiate himself. He was well versed in admiration from afar, but never been privy to the process where a female sat in front of a vanity and readied herself.

And somehow, this felt more intimate than all the rest.

You’d been hesitant about attending the long-haul mission when you learned it would just be you and the guys, but Azriel and his brothers consciously accommodated you right from the start. Before the various dinners and galas, Cassian would train until the very last moment to avoid making you feel rushed. He’d come in 15 minutes before the time to leave, throw on a suit and make some snippy joke about his exhaustive beautifying process. Rhys would be in and out of the room, ensuring all arrangements were taken care of, then savour his time getting ready which actually was exhaustive.

Azriel? He always had reports to go over that kept him strictly in the room. Kept him where he could sink into the luxury of watching your routine unfold.

Fools envied those who found mates for the companionship, the physical intimacy, the assurance of partnership. That’d been what Azriel ruminated on when he watched Rhys love Feyre, Cassian love Nesta. A fool indeed, because he’d never even considered this side of things.

It put entire fantasies in his head. How it would feel to have this routine with you—where you were his. He’d be watching it all happen from his bed. You’d be this comfortable in his room. Take up space in his life. A life where this was his to claim.

Even Mor—all his years of aching for her—any overlapping missions, and she’d kept him from seeing this side of her. There was truly no instance where he’d been let in this way. No relationship or lover where he got to see and learn it.

He’d been memorizing it. It was always a bath first that you’d come out of smelling intoxicating. Gleaming skin beneath a thin dressing robe that ended above your knees. It took a while for you to feel comfortable sitting in the shared room in just your robe, but it took Azriel even longer to be normal about it. To rid himself of thoughts about what stayed on underneath it, or what wasn’t on at all. He didn’t miss the blush that coloured your cheeks when you’d come out, from the heat of the bath or the awareness of your undress. A blush that Azriel matched when he’d look elsewhere, trying to avoid discomforting you, to avoid letting Cassian or Rhys notice his attentiveness.

Next was the dressing table component, where you were currently seated. Your robe sinfully inched up your legs when you lifted your arms to fuss over your hair. Arranging pins into various places. The focus in your eyes he’d catch in the mirror made the thoughts eddy out of Azriel’s brain.

So, so pretty.

A pinch between your brows as it slowly fell into place right. It took a week before you began comfortably playing your symphonia during the routine. Quietly, even though Rhys insisted it didn’t bother anyone. Azriel shuffled his papers, listening to the music that you faintly hummed along to. A breath of feminine exasperation left you that drew his eyes up—you were done with the hair. Tired from the effort.

Azriel bit back a smile at the labour of it all.

His favourite part was next—the cosmetics. Face creams first. A little perfume oil roller down the length of your pretty throat. Intention behind every brushstroke on your skin. Precision in shading beneath cheekbones. He shamelessly looked up to catch the part where you smiled at your reflection to set the rouge on the apples of your cheeks. Looked away again.

Kohl smudged into your lash line. Smaller brushes to sweep pigment on your eyelids. You didn’t notice his glimpses, too focused on the accuracy. A miniature comb you applied to your lashes, brushing upward and coating them black.

Your most beautiful feature, those hypnotic eyes.

He listened carefully for the click when you opened your lip rouge. He glutinously watched you apply colour to your sensuous mouth.

What he’d give to feel that motion he witnessed, the drag forward and back across your lips beneath the pressure of the rouge. The plush he could see—could practically feel. Colour he could envision smudging prettily with his thumb.

He cast his gaze down again. A composing deep breath, nearly shuddering.

Rhys cleared his throat, making Azriel’s head snap to him where he was sitting at the desk. He’d been getting dressed. Azriel didn’t even notice he’d sat down. A hateful smirk pulled the corners of Rhys’s mouth up. Azriel glared, returning his focus to his reports.

You admired your completed work, checking the presentation from various angles. Azriel would stare at the angel in the vanity too if it weren’t for his bastard brother making silent insinuations to his side.

He was spared when Cassian entered the room, looking at you, and releasing an inflated sigh of relief. “Thank God. We can let you out into the public again.”

You laughed mirthfully. “I’d say the same about you, Cass, but you could use a little work.”

He only approached you, crowding your space. “Can I get some of that?” he nodded to your products.

You laughed again, scooting for him to unceremoniously squish at your side on the tiny bench. You dolloped something onto your fingers, twisting to smear it onto his face, grinning.

“Azriel wants some too,” Rhys chimed in.

His heart faltered.

You glanced back, meeting Azriel’s gaze, brows high. He had to clench his jaw to keep down any reaction. Your beauty stunned him, and whatever Rhys was playing at, whatever you were going to do—

He was too startled by the suggestion to think to deny it. Too late, he realized, his silence implied agreement.

Somewhat bashfully, you rose in answer, product in hand.

Azriel remained frozen as you approached him. Both his brothers watched, but all he could care about was the homecoming he felt when you sat next to him on the bed.

Did you have any idea how profoundly personal it felt?

That feeling of Déjà vu befell him again—whatever version of this domesticity existed in another life where this was his. You were indeed on his bed, more bare than not. About to touch him like he was all yours.

That part bore the most truth, in this life and whatever other lives he was getting visions of.

You sat close enough that the skin of your knee tested his focus. It was just moisturizer that you’d squeezed onto your fingertips, but God did it feel like something precious, or maybe it was the sense of reverence you put into anything you touched. He held his breath as you raised your hand and gently smudged the cream across his cheekbones.  

Azriel felt like a teenager all over again, heart soaring at the tenderness.

Eyes focused, you leaned closer. Your other hand came up to gently cradle his face, thumbs stroking the product more intently into his skin. He hoped you couldn’t hear his heart as you stroked across his cheek a third time. Warm and soft. Azriel savoured the proximity. How even more devastating you looked up close.

“There,” he felt your breath softly puff onto his cheek. You retracted your hands, bracing yourself on his bed.

“Thank you,” he muttered lowly. The two of you remained for a beat. This time, Azriel didn’t try to hide his stare.

You finally broke it, seeming to recall the intrusive observation of your viewers. You rose, heading to the bathroom.

He couldn’t care less about his brothers’ prying eyes. Not with your warmth still sinking into his skin.

So, so familiar.

When the bathroom door finally opened, he snapped out of his thoughts. You’d changed into your gown. Your eyes found his immediately, chin marginally dipping under his gaze. He noted your slight shiver, and he allowed himself to wonder if you too felt the strange air. Charged with false nostalgia.

You only shook it off, smiling at him.

He felt it prickling again as he drank in the sight of you. Like flashbacks from another future. Something in his chest tightened. Likely the injury of tasting this domesticity already setting in, it seemed.

He only smiled back.

He’d figure it out later.

~  

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[fairydustblossom]

the first sign of fall chapter five: as sick as it sounds i loved you first

college au, the inner circle boys and the reader are bartenders.

pairings - eris vanserra x reader, a teensy bit of azriel x reader

summary - at the annual hockey party you have two much needed, long time coming, conversations.

word count - 4.2k

a/n - okay okay guys we're on our way to HEALING. this is good. i don't know man. at least they're all finally starting to communicate a little bit. I mean it's mostly her but hey she is drunk word vomiting. they boys don't have much room to talk. also they're stupid men....so.

read the rest of the series here!

You didn’t want to work. Didn’t want to get out of bed. Didn’t want to do anything. Blankets wrapped around you, cacooning you in a soft straight jacket of warmth. You hadn’t moved in hours despite being awake. Nothing seemed to really matter lately. Your shades were drawn. Darkness shrouding your room. 

Empty. You felt empty. Your apartment a shallow husk of a home. 

You thought of your favorite sweater, still at Eris’ apartment. Your hairbrush and your good pair of sneakers. Plants that had previously sat on the shelves of your room, now resting on the window sill of Eris’ living room. The sleep you had grown accustomed to. Warm and comfortable. His bedsheets cool against your skin and the smell of his cologne drifting through your nose. His fingers combing through your hair. His kisses along your collarbone to wake you up. Wasted. By what? A game you had played along with for traditions sake. For what? 

Eris. The day you had met him. Your freshman year. Two years ago.  In his white cable knit sweater, fraying around the edges. Expensive things he let go into disarray as if he didn’t care. A carefully curated look of dishevelment. His smirk and his glittering eyes. The way you could never get yourself to talk to him. The way his swaggering confidence and sharp remarks scared you shitless. The way his eyes would sometimes meet yours across crowded coffee shops, quiet libraries, or crushingly packed parties. Like he could taste just how much you wanted to talk to him. The way you had fallen in love with him from a distance. 

The clock strikes one and you groan. Pulling your blanket over your head and rolling onto your stomach, before sliding out of your bed. Unwilling and unhappy. Fine. Work it is. You couldn’t call out. Rhys would kill you if Cassian was the only bartender. Nothing seemed to get done when Cassian was the only bartender. 

★ ★ ★

“So let me get this straight.” Cassian set several glasses on the counter top and angled his body towards you, “You think that avoiding both Az and Eris is the best way to go about things?” 

You don’t look at him. Shaking your head you continue washing the bar glasses, “I’m not avoiding Azriel. He isn’t talking to me….Just like last time.” 

“Maybe he’s waiting for you to say something.” 

Cassian moved closer to you. Forcing your attention away from the dishes. You huff a breath of vague annoyance and turn to meet his eyes. 

“What am I supposed to say?” 

He didn’t have an answer for you. He shrugged and pulled the glass out of your hands and nudged you away from the sink. Choosing to take your task instead of answering you. You look past him towards the clock on the wall. 

“I have to go. My shift is over and Az will be here any second.” 

“See. Avoiding.” 

You don’t respond as you take off your apron and tuck it beneath the bar, grabbing your bag, and heading for the door. You’re almost in the clear. Almost. You run directly into Azriel as he slides through the doorway. Muttering an apology you try to push past him, but he grabs your arm. Finally you look up from his chest to those hazel eyes, boring into you, studying your every slight facial expression. He opens his mouth to say something, but closes it before any words manage to escape. 

“Have uh…have a good shift.” 

With that your out the door. The cold fall wind whipping through your hair and stinging your cheeks red. You stand outside the bar. Out of breath from the one brief interaction with Azriel. The look he gave you still seared into your sightline. You look around the street. Empty, the streetlights just flickering on as it hit dusk, leaves no longer that buttery yellow and orange but a burnt red. Fall in full flush. The crisp air felt like an assault on your lungs. 

A ding from your phone snapped you out of the trance the weather had bewitched upon you. Mor. 

Mor: Come to the party with me tonight. 

You sigh. That was the last thing you wanted to do. The hockey team’s halloween party. The last thing you wanted to do. Another ding interrupts your response. 

Mor: I know you don’t want to go. But if I have to get drunk by myself imagine what could happen to me. 

You chuckle at the vague hint towards a catastrophe. You type out a response, 

You: What could possibly happen to you Morrigan?

Mor: Uhm…I have to be sexy by myself. Which is a damn shame. 

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth. Gnawing the already bitten raw flesh. A nervous tick. One that had been rearing it’s ugly head in the last couple weeks. You nod to yourself. Steeling yourself. You could do this. 

You: Fine. 

She didn’t respond. You knew she’d be at your apartment to pick you up in a couple hours anyway. 

★ ★ ★

“Stop fidgeting with your dress. You look good.” Mor hissed at you as you pulled your skirt down for what had to be the fourth time in the last couple minutes. 

The party was loud, the lights were low, and you were already three shots in, and working on your third drink. It was way too strong. One of Mor’s famous concoctions. It seemed the only way to get through this night. Your eyes scanned the room for familiar faces. You knew Azriel would show up. You knew Eris would be there two. Neither of them ever missed this party. You had been constantly scanning the room for Cassian’s towering form, knowing that Az and Rhys wouldn’t be far behind him. Luckily for you they hadn’t shown yet. 

You reached up to rub your neck. There was still a bruise there from where Azriel had sunk his teeth. That light red mark a reminder of the horrible decision you had made. You hadn’t heard from Eris since he told you he was done. You supposed that maybe you should stop expecting to hear from him. But the silence still hurt. It stretched through your mind constantly. That lack of communication. The gravity of the quiet. 

Mor looked you up and down. Her eyes narrowing as she flipped her hair over her shoulder and turned to face you fully, taking the cup out of your hands and pulling your arms lightly. 

“Loosen up. Come on. Let’s dance.” 

You hang your head and try to pull out of her grip, but when she wanted something she got it. So you begrudgingly let her drag you to the dance floor. Letting your body move with hers as the buzz of your drinks settled over you like a warm blanket. For a couple minutes, as the music washed over you, the bass pumping along with your heartbeat, you let yourself forget. About everything. 

But like all peaceful moments it didn’t last long. Out of the corner of your eye, through the flashing neon lights, and the swarm of people, you caught sight of him. Well you caught sight of a flash of auburn hair and a flash of freckles across cream skin. Eris. His face half covered by a golden mask that looked awfully like a fox. His hand on the small of some girls back. The girl wasn’t someone you knew. Another accessory. He had gone back to being exactly what everyone thought he was. 

You allow girls to accompany you to parties. You don’t date. 

Your words to him swam through your ears. A violet wave of memory. Something sour climbed its way up your throat and into your mouth. You pulled out of Mor’s grasp and searched frantically for a bathroom. Spotting it across the room you made straight for the door. Pushing past everyone. The crowd suddenly suffocating. The people bumping into eachother, jumping, huddled together. The music reverberating through the room. All of it overwhelming. All of it too loud. Suffocating. 

Azriel had just walked into the party. Cassian and Rhysand on either side of him. The first thing he saw was you. Booking it to the bathroom. Your eyes frantic and your hand coming to cover your mouth. He made to follow you, knowing exactly what was about to happen. And then he saw it. Eris had clocked you the same second he had. Both men made eye contact. Standing a couple feet away from eachother. Neither moving. Neither following. 

Eris had seen you before you saw him. You looked damn good. He was absolutley sure that Mor had put you in that outfit. The skirt a little too short. Your hair curled the same way Mor’s always was. You skin gleaming from sweat. The heat of the room making your every inch sparkle a little under the lights. Your eyes closed as you danced. Body swaying in time with the beat of the music. You looked too good. His jaw clenched. He was making sure to get closer to the girl he had brought. Making sure to make it very clear that this was his date. He saw the way your expression shifted. Saw the way the panic in you seemd to surface. It was almost like he heard the saw words you did. 

You allow girls to accompany you to parties. You don’t date. 

He hated every second of it. Every second of get back. But if he had to play the part. For you. For your friends he would do it.  Play the asshole. Be whatever it is that they wanted him to be. Over you? Yeah sure he could play pretend for a night. It was nothing right? It was casual. No labels. Just company. 

Eris thought of when he first saw you. His sophomore year. Two years ago. In your leather jacket. Your hair cut short. Your quiet remarks to your friends that always seemed to make them laugh. The blush that would spread across your cheeks when he’d meet your gaze. When he’d notice the way you stared. The way you were always flanked by your guard dogs. Cassian and Azriel. Sometimes Morrigan and Amren. Always too accompanied to approach. Your coy smile and your heavy lashes. A sight for sore eyes at every suffocating party and overly heated coffee shop. An ever present distraction. The way he would laugh louder to see if it would draw your attention, and it always did. The way that he had finally gotten you alone at the start of term party this year. When years of passing interaction, casual hellos, and a warm smile had finally gotten him into your life. 

And then he saw Azriel. Saw how Az noticed you fleeing the dance floor just as he did. Noticed the way that his body was arched into your pursuit the same way his own was. Both feeling that incessant need to make sure you were okay. Their eyes met. Play the part. Let him have it. Be what they want you to be. He broke eye contact with Azriel and bent his head in submission. Go on. The motion seemed to say. You play your part and I’ll play mine. Eris leaned back down to the girl he had brought. Pretending to listen to whatever she was saying as his eyes trailed Azriel to the bathroom. Nodding, not paying attention as he followed shadowsinger across the floor and stood at the closed bathroom door, listening to the conversation held within. 

★ ★ ★

You didn’t want to throw up. You paced the small bathroom clutching your stomach. You were a bartender for fucks sake. If you couldn’t hold your alcohal then what was the point? You clenched your eyes shut and shook your head. Trying not to let anything come up. Slowly you sank to the ground. Letting your head fall against the wall behind you, your hand clutching the rim of the toilet as if in preparation for what was to come. 

The door creaked open and Azriel slid into the room. White t shirt, soaked with blood, clinging to his frame. His hair greased and parted down the middle. A plastic curved knife tucket into the belt loop of his jeans. Billy Loomis. Of course he had dressed up as Billy Loomis. You had watched scream together last year. You vaguely remembered telling him he’d look damn good dressed up like that, before Cassian snorted and said something about it somehow not being emo enough and god forbid Az wear anything but a black shirt. 

He crouched down next to you. Slowly pushing the hair out of your face and moving your body towards the toilet. Holding your hair in one hand and gently brushing a hand over your back as he whispered, 

“Just let it out.” 

You shook your head. Humming your disagreement. But the movement of your body, the small shift in your position, the shake of your head. It sent you over the edge and you lurched over the toilet. Wretching and coughing. Azriel softly shushed you, trying his best to be comforting, trying to be soothing. He had held your hair back while you vomited more times than he could remember. Freshman year was your black out drunk year and he remembered it well. 

Slowly you raised your head, blinking through watery eyes at Azriel. His concerned expression did nothing to calm the storm in your stomach. In your head. You sucked in a shuddering breath and he tilted his head. 

“Why do you only like me when I’m sad?” 

Your question was like a knife to his gut. A sharp, achingly cold, pain twisting it’s way through his organs. He slightly shook his head as if he didn’t understand. You sniffled, hiccuping slightly as you continued, 

“You dont…You only want me when you can’t have me or when I’m so fucking distraught that I can’t think straight.” 

Twisting. Pushing deeper. That knife. Like you wanted his insides to spill out and his blood to drench your hands. 

“Why?” 

A whisper. Small and pleading. He couldn’t think of something to say. His mind completely blank. You push his hands away from you. Off your shoulder and out of your hair. Scrambling away from his contact. 

“I left. That first time. Because I was so fucking scared that when you woke up you’d pretend it didn’t happen. That we’d go back to being friends and act like nothing had changed. I left because I was convinced it didn’t mean anything to you and I just didn’t want to hear you say it. I didn’t want to see the regret on your face if I was still there.” 

You never talked about it. A silent agreement to never talk about what happened two years ago. Your first comment on it brought a horrified look to his face that he couldn’t wipe away fast enough. But he tried. Tried to reknit his brows and close his mouth, 

“You’re drunk” 

You wave your hands and shake your head, “No. No. I didn’t want to just be a pity fuck that you didn’t care about. That you didn’t ever want to talk about. So I left and I hoped you’d prove me wrong and you never did. You stayed silent and we never fucking talked about it again. Because I was right.” 

“You weren’t” 

Azriel wanted to believe it. Wanted to be able to tell you that you were wrong. Wanted to tell you it was more than that. But that knife in his gut. It was all he could focus on. The sharp blade of reality. He wanted you when you were sad. Something to fix. Something he could try to piece back together. But he knew you were never something he could hold together. So he was there when you needed rebuilding. Your voice struck him again, 

“I was. I was right.” 

You rose to your feet now. Pushing past him as he stood to try and block you. Shoving your hands into his chest to get him to move out of your way. 

“You only like me when I’m sad.” 

You clutched the door handle and wiped your face hastily. Trying to rid yourself of any crying evidence. Not wanting to look a mess in front of the people you knew were lined up outside the bathroom door. 

“I had something. Someone. That wanted me when I was whole. When I was happy. Someone who made me happy.” 

He reached for you and you flinched away, “And I let you ruin it because for some reason I kept thinking. How could I deserve it?  And now look at me.” 

You motioned around the bathroom, at yourself. As if you could illustrate the hollow feeling in your gut. In your chest. 

Azriel muttered your name. The only thing he could think to say. You pressed your lips into a tight line and took a deep breath before leaving him to stand alone in the bathroom. 

★ ★ ★

You pushed your way through the sweltering room. The patio. The front steps. It didn’t matter. Outside. You just wanted to be outside. You bump into Rhys before you can get to the door. His hands reaching to clasp your shoulders. His face etched with worry. His eyes scanning your face and one hand smoothing your hair down. 

“You okay?” 

You could barely hear him over the din of the party. You nod quickly and push his worrying hands away, 

“You got a cigarette?” 

“Uh yeah?” 

He reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a pack, handing you one, and slipping a lighter into your free hand as you tuck the cigarette behind you ear. Pushing past him you head for the door once more. Slipping out. Relishing in the way the cool october air pricked at your exposed skin. The way it burned your nostrils and finally provided a steady gust of air to your lungs. You walk to the curb, sitting down and fumbling with the lighter that Rhys had given you. 

Trying to light the cigarette proved difficult with the halloween wind and the light rain now dripping from the velvet sky. Someone tall moved to stand in front of you, blocking you from the breeze and the drizzle. Finally allowing the lighter to spark to life. You muttered a thank you, taking a long drag, and finally looked up at the figure before you. 

Eris. 

“I thought you didn’t want to talk to me” Smoke flowed past your lips as you said it. He offered a half hearted smile before crouching to sit on the curb next to you. Someone who made me happy. Your words to Azriel echoing in Eris’ ears as he sat. 

“I just wanted a smoke.” 

He pulled the cigarette from your fingers and took a drag. Holding eye contact with you like a challenge. 

“That girl finally bore the shit out of you?” You shouldn’t comment on it. On her. You had no right. You were never really together in the first place and after what you had done. Running to Azriel as soon as Eris said he was done with you. You shouldn’t comment on it. 

He shrugged and tried his best to blow the smoke away from you as he exhaled. He turned back towards you. His eyes wandering across your face, down your neck, across your shoulders, and then suddenly backtracking. Back to the crook of your neck. That ever fading bite mark. That last physical reminder. His eyes stayed there. The deep russet color now smoldering. 

“You finally done with Az? Or is that just getting started?” 

“There’s nothing to start. There never was. I…get that now.” 

He snorted and brought the cigarette back to his lips. You ran your tongue across your teeth. Trying to think of something to say. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for. You did exactly what you were expected to.” He paused and you spoke again, 

“Is that what you’re doing? Bringing a date here?” 

He shrugged again. Play the part. Eyes still boring their way through your soul. That slight bit of connection. That eye contact. However frustrated, however angry, filling some sort of hole that he had left in you. You sigh deeply and stare at your shoes. Lightly tapping your heels together like maybe the motion would somehow bring you home. Straight back into his arms. But it wouldn’t. 

“You know. We don’t have to stay the way other people see us.” 

Something in his gaze softened. Like your words had cracked through his walls. Built some sort of window that could be opened into a real conversation. So you continued, 

“Something to be fixed or someone to hate. Angry. We don’t have to be angry.” 

“Are you angry?” His voice was cool. Like he didn’t want you to know that he really did wonder if you were angry with him. For pushing you out. For being unwilling to talk after one issue. 

“Not at you. At myself for…” You trailed off. Eyes going distant. Voice growing soft and much much warmer. “Do you remember when we first met? You were wearing that white sweater. The one with the holes in it.” 

He tried not to smile. He didn’t think you remembered that. Didn’t know if you even really bothered to remember anything about him before he had managed to convince you to let him into your life for real. He nodded, looking away from you. 

“You know…When you finally made a move on me a couple months ago. I couldn’t fucking believe it. Eris Vanserra, could have anyone he wants, heir to his fathers company, ever charming, hockey super star, total fucking asshole to everyone….was talking to me like he really cared what I had to say.” 

He still wasn’t looking at you. He had hung his head and closed his eyes. As if remembering that night himself. 

“I don’t know if you were going to say it in the locker room. It seemed like you were. But…” You slump your shoulders before standing up and brushing yourself off. Leaves falling from where they had stuck to your legs. He turned to look at you, his eyes searching, almost pleading. Like he was begging you not to say what you were about to say. 

“As sick as it sounds. I loved you first Eris. I was just waiting for you to notice and then when you did I was so fucking scared that you would do what everyone told me you would do, that you’d fuck me and then leave me like it was nothing.” 

Again it felt like you were going to throw up, “And you proved them wrong. And that was scarier. Because what if I didn’t deserve it.” 

He tried to say something, but you cut him off. “You don’t have to say anything. You don’t have to forgive me. Maybe you shouldn’t. But I just…” 

You shake your head. Almost like you were giving up and started to walk away. You were going to toss one final thing over your shoulder. But you squared your shoulder and looked at him. He was standing now, like he wanted to follow you. Like he wanted to walk you home. Something he had grown so used to doing. But he didn’t budge as you said, 

“I feel empty without you.” 

A small smile spread across his face. A smile he had thrown at you when everything was okay. When you two were good. When you were happy. Mischievous. Fox like and sly. 

“Not like that. Not like in a sexual way. In the like I miss you way. Asshole.” 

A small laugh escaped his lips at that. At your slight teasing tone. You stare at each other for a moment before you say, serious now, 

“I miss you.” 

And with that you turned and started to walk down the street. You had to go home. You didn’t want to talk to any of your friends. Didn’t want to face Azriel again. Didn’t want to drink anymore or dance or act like everything was fine. 

He wanted to say it back. Every bone in his body screaming at him to say it back. To tell you that he missed you too. But he couldn’t. You were too far away. Too drunk. Too sad. 

But that smile he had given you. That teasing tone that you had held for even a split second. A small glimmer of hope. Maybe there was something to salvage there. 

Azriel leaned against the doorframe of the house. He had been watching the conversation you had with Eris. Not able to hear it, but monitoring from afar. He had followed you out. To try and talk. Try and apologize for everything. For how stupid he had been. He didn’t want to lose you…as a friend. Above all else as a friend. As family. That’s what you were supposed to be. You and everyone else in your friend group. Family. Your final words were all he had managed to hear. 

I miss you. 

Something you would have never said to him. Rightly so, Azriel supposed. Eris eventually turned away from your fleeting form and met Azriel’s eyes. Az wondered how long Eris had known he was skulking in the background. He offered Eris a small nod. A small concession. Eris nodded back. 

A brief. Silent. Understanding of sorts maybe. 

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[fairydustblossom]

pumpkins, movie nights and a halloween party - autumn and spooky season headcanons (remastered) 🦇🎃💀

bc not writing anything to honor one of my favourite seasons and holidays would be a crime.

spooky season is one of your favourites

anything witchy and slightly shudder-inducing causes massive increases in your general happiness

so in true witchy fashion

Mor, Feyre and you decide that it will only truly be beginning of spooky season once you have carved jack'o'lanterns

you argue you can use them for Rhys's big annual Halloween party -

but really, you just want to carve pumpkins and make a mess

and so, the first week of October you meet at the flat

Feyre brings the pumpkins in two big wooden crates the two of you lug up the stairs

you have ordered a bunch of sharp knives for the occasion

and Mor brings drinks

tho, as she says as she places them on the counter with a meaningful eyebrow-raise

those are better left untouched until any activities including sharp objects are finished

"Huh."

You raise your head, and Mor squints.

"Is it me... or does this guy look a little more like Vlad the Impaled?"She turns her pumpkin, and both Feyre and you cackle. Mor grins and wiggles her brows.

You're sitting in the kitchen, the big table covered a picknick blanket to protect the wood from the big bowls with stinky gourd intestines. Candles are flickering in the window, the speakers are connected to Feyre's phone and playing some halloween playlist, and there are mugs with steaming hot chocolate standing in front of all of you.

Feyre and Mor are perched on the couch, your best friend squinting in concentration while Mor's tongue sticks out the corner of her mouth in concentration. You're sitting on one of the chairs, one leg pulled up as you happily saw a grimace into the pumpkin in front of you. You're going for a traditional evil grin. Feyre is carving some intricate side profile of a witch with a crooked hat, and Mor is winging it.

The front door opens, and you hear three pairs of heavy footsteps and the shuffle of jackets being shed. But you only raise your head once you hear Cassian's deep, familiar voice.

"Hello la-", he breaks off mid sentence and sniffles, his charming grin melting into a grimace. "The fuck -"

Rhys pushes past him, nose crunched as he heads for the window. "God, it stinks in here."

"Eh,", all three of you echo, brows crunched in focus.

"Who thought it was a good idea to supply you three with sharp knives?" Cassian leans into the doorframe, smirking lazily as he crosses his arms, and Mor raises her head, slowly beginning to smile sweetly.

"Why...?" She switches her grip on her knife to prop the handle onto the table and smiles brighter and wider, and there's a soft, amused huff that makes you raise your head again.

Azriel pushes past Cassian, one corner of his lips twitching as he throws his best friend a look.

"Dug yourself right into that one."

Your breath catches at the sight of your boyfriend. His hair is tousled from the wind outside, his shoulders straining against his t-shirt as he moves past Rhys.

Mor waves her knife at Cassian playfully, and you grin up at Azriel when he slowly comes to stand behind you. His hands close around the backrest, muscles shifting under his shirt, and straightening in your seat a little, you crane your neck to look up at him.

Your eyes find amber ones, warm in the flickering light of the candles, the golden specks twinkling in amusement when he lightly arches a brow at you, and your heart leaps happily.

You feel the muscles in Azriel's arms shift when you lean the back of your head against them and beam up at him. "Hi."

"Hi." Azriel's low, deep voice vibrates through you, slow and amused, and you feel your smile widen.

"They gave me a knife."

Somewhere to your left, Cassian begins to laugh, his shoulders shaking as his head falls back.

Azriel stares back down at you, and slowly, very slowly, a smirk spreads over his face, and your heart leaps against your ribs as a flutter rises in your chest at the sight of the creases in his cheeks and the lazy twinkle in his eyes.

"Yeah?" His warm, deep voice trickles down your spine, and you widen your eyes and whisper loudly: "Actually, I just took it."

"Oh, dear God." Rhys turns his eyes towards the ceiling exasperatedly, and Mor cackles while Feyre starts rolling with laughter.

You beam up at Azriel, and your breath hitches when his lips curve and he sends you a light wink.

the finished pumpkins are placed all over the flat and the balcony, with candles flickering inside every evening

it's the cue for the start of several movie nights

for the ones where it's only you and the boys, you hole up in one of your rooms

it's usually yours

(Cass claims it's bc it smells the nicest

Rhys usually retorts that bc you don't leave smelly socks lying around)

but also 9/10 times, the ambience in your bed room is just cosiest

you light candles and fairy lights

drag several blankets into your room

and turn your bed into one big cozy pit

on the nights where it's the whole gang

you usually make a sleepover of it

you and Cass turn the living room into one big cozy landscape

you push the couch table to the side, drag mattresses from your rooms and push them into between the couches

then you fill everything with pillows and blankets

since the colder months have started, Rhys and you spend even more time in the kitchen

you use every opportunity you have, and the movie nights aren't any different

so usually, the flat smells like apples, cinnamon and butter when Feyre and Mor arrive

the latter and Cass have claimed spots as designated taste testers for new recipes

which means most times, Mor makes a beeline for the kitchen, grinning and pressing a smacking kiss onto your cheek in greeting before giggling happily at the food

Feyre usually brings non-baking related snacks, for which Cassian hugs the shit out of her

she still doesn't look like she's used to that yet

then, as it gets dark outside, you all change into pyjamas and huddle up in the living room

it's usually a bit of scooching and wiggling until everyone is comfortable

sometimes, you and the girls all curl up on the mattresses on the floor, propped up and surrounded by dozens of pillows

the boys all stretched out on the couches, Cassian and Azriel kicking at each other in a fight for the big blanket

other times, Rhys and Cass claim the mattresses while Feyre and Mor huddle up on one couch and you end up curled against Azriel's chest

his scarred hand slipped under your hoodie, his chest warm and solid against your back and his chin dropped against your head

you playing with his fingers and huddling into your blanket happily, your heart thrumming

there are candles lit everywhere, the window sills, the dining table, the shelves

Rhys keeps everyone supplied with big mugs full of steaming hot chocolate with marshmallows and whipped cream

bowls with snacks distributed and handed back and forth between you

the actual choice of movie depends of who gets to the remote the quickest

you watch some classics like hocus pocus or corpse bride on the nights one of you girls get your turn

when Cassian is quickest, you end up buried under a blanket between Mor and Feyre with only your noses peeking out while a full on horror movie plays in the back

it's got its funny moments

but most of the time, you're hiding your face against Mor's shoulder, flinching everytime she squeaks

for more spooky vibes, Mor drags you to a Halloween themed dinner she's been dying to go to for two years now in the second week of October

it's at a restaurant located in the old part of the city, with small crammed tables under big stone arches

the place went all in with the decorating, and the menu holds all kind of spooky takes

you're very impressed with the life-like spider cake

you can even choose from several witchy potions/drinks and "brew" them yourselves

safe to say, you have the time of your lives

Rhys takes you to a screening of some old black and white horror movie a couple of days later

you deck yourself with drinks and snacks and occupy two of the fancy velvet chairs in the last row

your legs thrown over Rhys's knees so his long legs have space and your giggles barely suppressed against his shoulder while Rhys grins and steals your popcorn

like every year, spooky season mounts in Rhys's big annual halloween party

this year, he has decided, after a quick vote, that the big annual halloween party will not actually be that big

read: you'll hold it at the flat

which means, it will still be one hell of a party

just a bit less fancy

and a few less people

...

which just means more exclusive and still with a shit ton of people

bc who are we kidding

Rhys will still go all in - he's just not in the mood of the hassle that comes with a pompous location

and a smaller party means that he gets to create a fancy buffet

you go shopping for decorations a week before Halloween

Rain is pattering against the window, the smell of coffee hanging in the air as you giggle under your breath and try to fight off Azriel's fork that keeps lazily swiping peaces of pancake from your plate. You've made them for breakfast, with caramelised apples that made Cass groan when he came in earlier to get his water bottle before leaving for the gym. Now you're sitting at the table, the sky outside dark and grey and Azriel opposite of you, steaming mugs in front of you and Azriel's plate empty.

"Hey, darling?"

You raise your head at the sound of Rhys's deep voice, and Azriel easily swipes a whole fork of pancake and apples from your plate. You curse softly, and Rhys sticks his head through the kitchen door.

"Are you busy today?"

You glare at your boyfriend who lounges in his chair, his lips curving as he chews slowly, a lazy crease forming in his cheek when he sends you a light wink.

You glower, and Azriel's eyes twinkle in the warm light like he's trying not to laugh.

There's the sound of fingers snapping, and when both you and Azriel tear your eyes away from each other and look towards the door, Rhys smirks and leans a shoulder against the door.

"You know, I was going to ask whether you wanted to come shop for decorations for the party, but looking at the two of you, how am I supposed to tear you apart?"

In unison, Az and you roll your eyes and flip him off.

Rhys grins until he looks like the Cheshire Cat. "Look at that, you even share the same brain cell..."

"Why is he so mean?", you grumble, digging into the last bit of your pancakes.

"Probably in heat,", Azriel mumbles under his breath, his lips twitching when Rhys snorts and you fall into a giggle fit.

"Okay, seriously, sweetheart; I could use your help." Rhys pushes off the doorframe.

"I mean,", you pick up your mug and shrug, "technically, you could use Az's help too, to carry stuff." Innocently, you blink over the rim of your cup.

Azriel's eyes narrow, and he starts to glower at you.

You feel your lips twitch. Then you look over towards the door, catching Rhys's gaze, and at the same time, you both start to grin.

"C'mon, Azzie boy." Rhys's smirk is positively wicked when he winks at his best friend. "Bet your girlfriend's gonna be very happy with you if you tag along..."

Azriel's grumpy glare would make most people cower.

With Rhys, it just makes his grin grow until it nearly splits his face as he raises his brows.

Azriel's scowl deepens, then his eyes flicker towards you. He looks like he's regretting it the same second, because you're beaming at him, wide and cheeky as you raise your brows.

"Please...?"

Rhys laughs, his head falling back and shoulders shaking, and Azriel glares at you.

Still, you're almost sure to see an amused flicker in his eyes when he rolls them.

safe to say, when you leave the flat half an hour later, Azriel is behind you, wearing a thick jacket over his hoodie and raising his brows at you when you beam up at him

you're definitely sure you see the corners of his lips twitching lightly tho

Mor comes too, bc she's a sucker for shopping

and bc you need her car

Rhys has located the best shops for decoration in town

you and Mor get excited over and over again, eyes widening and squeezing each other's hands whenever you spy something new

Azriel just trails after you, a faintly amused expression on his face while Rhys chuckles at your exciement

at the first store, you buy loads of fake spiderwebs and dozens of big black spiders

also an array of skulls and skeleton hands you can use for candle holders and the buffet

Mor scares the crap out of you when she uses one of the hands to gently scratch the back of your head when you're not looking

you nearly die, darting into Azriel's chest

and Mor cackles for five whole minutes

Azriel's is so obviously trying not to laugh that his eyes crinkle at the corners as you bury your face in his chest

Rhys doesn't even try

at the next store, you get a whole bunch of candles, a whole armada floating candles you can hang off the ceiling and a ridiculous amount of paper bats

you get a giggle fit when Mor holds one up next to Azriel's head and contemplates the uncanny resemblance

the glare Azriel levels her with would make the biggest man cower

Mor just grins widely

you also find mugs shaped like black cauldrons and wine glasses with stems like skeletal hands for the bar

after lunch, Rhys makes a pit stop to confirm the rental of a fog machine

the store he's going to rent it from is big and with a massive load of things to rent, like human sized skeletons and witches

Mor pretends to dramatically waltz through one of the wide aisles, pulling you with her until you fall into fits of giggles

Azriel watches, dimple digging into his cheeks and eyes twinkling

Rhys decides to rent some spotlights as well to really make the fog shine and half a dozen of the big skeletons

then you're on your way again

Mor's car is pretty stuffed already at this point, but you make two more stops

at the first, you get a massive assortment of funkily shaped bottles and some stuff for the buffet

at the second, you buy table cloth, witches hats and some fake ravens

a couple of days later, Rhys and you go shopping for the food

you visit several supermarkets to get everything for the dozens of snacks he has planned, all spookily on theme

your pinterest has been great help when it comes to inspiration

you also get a massive amount of booze for the bar, including loads of glittering ones, a huge load of crushed ice and stuff for spooky garnish

the day before the party, Rhys and you spend in the kitchen

you make a little pre-party of it, with music and hot cider as you prepare most of the snacks

little spider cakes inspired by your and Mor's dinner, mummy sausage in a blanket, pomegranate chocolate skulls, candied apples that look like they might poison you if you try them, chocolate ghosts, monster munch popcorn -

the amount of candy eyeballs and melted marshmallows for webs you use is concerning

Feyre drops by in the late afternoon

Rhys flirts so unabashedly that after only ten minutes she's glaring at him while her cheeks are gleaming with a blush

but he doesn't seem deterred in the slightest

on the contrary

his grin only widens whenever she huffs at him

but you haven't invited her to play cupid (at least not solely)

while you and Rhys start filling the bottles you bought and cleaned with the varieties of alcohol, pimping some with some edible glitter

Feyre starts writing the etiquettes

everything gets a new, spookier, more witchy name, the actual name of the booze scribbled in the corner in Feyre's ornate handwriting

there's witch's tears, fairie's breath, dragon's flame, vampire venom -

she even draws little sketches on the labels before charring the edges of the thick paper and glueing them to the bottles accordingly

then she writes some spooky recipe suggestions you have found on instagram on the same kind of paper, drawing little doodles of ghosts, witches and cats all around them

witches' brew, midnight margaritas, ecto martini, vampire's dinner -

the options are endless

if there's anything you've learned from last year

it's to not leave the costume until a week before the party

even though it will be a smaller affair than the last one, you know Rhys will still go all out

and so you put the utmost care into your costume

first, Mor, Feyre and you spend an afternoon on the couch, browing pinterest and an array of online shops in search for ideas or center pieces

neither of you girls really has a plan at first

but then...

There's a flash of lightning, and when you raise your head, thunder cracks in the distance, rumbling and making you shiver happily.

Rain is pounding against the windows of the living room, and the candles flicker as Feyre hums absentmindedly to the music playing in the background. The mugs with hot chocolate you've made have been empty for quite a while now, but the warm, sweet scent still lingers in the air.

"What are you looking for?" Mor scrunches her brows and chews on her pen as she leans forward, browsing on your laptop.

"Not really sure?" You squint, adjusting your spot on the cushion on the floor while you slowly scroll through your pinterest on Rhys's tablet. Then you raise your brows and hold the tablet over your head. "I like this."

In unison, Feyre and Mor who sit behind you on the couch, lean in.

"Oh, I like that!" Feyre's eyes starts twinkling. "That actually fits with what I got so far."

"Huh." Mor squints at the screen. Then, suddenly, she slowly start to grin widely. "Guys. I've got an idea."

You crane your neck to look up at her, and Mor raises her brows, her grin growing. "What have we got here?"

Feyre crunches her brows. "Huh?"

Mor rolls her eyes before widening them. "Between all of us? We're the most iconic thing in mythology and spooky fiction - three women! We're the Fates, holding human life in our hands, we're the three faces of Hecate, the goddess of Magic, we're the Sanderson sisters -"

Both Feyre and you stare at her blankly.

Mor whips out her arms. "Dude, we're a coven!"

Both Feyre's and your eyes widen.

"Wait -"

"That's genuis!" Feyre beams. "We can all go as witches!"

"But those vibes!" You frantically point at your tablet.

"Exactly!" Mor is grinning widely. "We're dark, spooky, but elegant, alluring." She widens her eyes. "Think about it; silk, lace, dramatic silhouettes -"

You groan happily and turn on the spot, wiggling in excitement. "Okay, what are you thinking, all of us dresses or -"

as soon as you got the vibe down

dark, spooky, but elegant, alluring

you slowly work out the looks you want to go for

you scour several online stores for inspiration and end up ordering the base piece for your look

a few days later, you go shopping

for the vibe you're all going for, you decide to scour the plenty of vintage shops you all love first

at the first, Feyre finds a black dress with puffy sleeves that slide off her shoulders

you already ordered one piece of your planned costume; a tiered black cotton skirt

but at the next shop, you stumble upon a tight lace shirt with billowing sleeves

Mor finds you a black corset with embroidery all over the front a few stores later

along with the flowy, tiered black dress she decides to use as base for her costume

you buy some more lace for a cape Feyre is going to design for herself and some structured tights that look like overlapping spiderwebs for your costume

oh, and

as Mor puts it

"a shit ton of accessoires"

the day of Halloween all of you spend decoration the flat

Mor and Feyre show up for the late breakfast (pancakes with googly eyes and whipped cream ghosts)

after Azriel had to pull you out of bed and carry you into the kitchen

Cassian made you watch another horror movie and let's just say you didn't sleep all that much

then, after lots of coffee, hot chocolate and food

you begin to set up

Mor and Fey both have their costumes with them in big bags so they don't have to go home again

they stash them in your room before joining the rest of you

Mor pulls up her spooky autumn playlist, then you split into groups

Rhys disappears into the kitchen to prep the rest of the foods that aren't stored in the fridge yet, the decorations for the drinks, and to set up the bar

Mor starts to spread spiderwebs all over the rooms, Feyre trailing after her to carefully attach big black spiders in the webs

meanwhile, you begin distributing fake candles all over the flat

the windowsills and shelves, the couch table and the fireplace, even the floor -

Cassian and Azriel are tasked with everything that needs hanging up

big spiders dangling from thin cords everywhere, floating candles attached to fishing lines at different heights, and swarms of paper bats that sway lightly in the breeze

once Mor and Feyre are done, they start helping you sprinkle the rest of the decorations around

skulls and skeleton hands that carry murky glasses with unidentified contents that Mor brought

more spiders and bats sitting on all the possible vantage points

witches hats that sit atop the chairs, some ravens up on the shelf

and confetti in shape of tiny bats, spiders and cauldrons

"the only thing we're missing at this point is a black cat,", Mor comments when the big skeletons along with the fog machine and the spot lights are delivered at noon

"why, we got Azriel,", you throw back absendtmindedly, and Mor starts laughing

you put the skeletons in different corners and the guys set up the smoke machine while Feyre finds good places for the spot lights

then you help Rhys set up the basis for the buffet on the dining room table

you bought a big black velvet table cloth you spread out carefully

then you put up a couple of tall candelabras

on the table in the kitchen, Rhys has put up a big cauldon that actually steams

the flat is mostly done by 5 pm

and all of you are starving

Rhys orders a bunch of pizzas

Feyre starts to do Cassian's make up

his hair is pulled up messily as she starts to line his facial structures with a thin brush and white paint

Cassian catches your eyes and winks

you just grin and wink back

when the pizza arrives, you and Mor take turns feeding Feyre pieces, bc now her hands are smeared with black and white paint

it takes time -

in which the rest of you polish off four massive pizzas and Cassian whines whenever Feyre chides him for messing up her work when he takes massive bites of pizza

but after a whole lot of precision work

his whole face is turned into a ghostly white skeleton on shiny black paint

Feyre even painted spine bones down his throat

when she's done, you switch so she can actually eat properly

and you use the black paint you ordered specifically for this to paint the space between Cassian's teeth black

when he grins at you, you nearly topple backwards off the couch

both Rhys and Azriel haven't shared what they're dressing up as

tho in Azriel's case

it is more of a case of whether he's gonna dress up at all

at a little after 6, Mor drags you to your feet to get ready

you hole up in your room, shutting the door and putting on some music

outside, it's already dark, and you can see families and groups of children roaming the streets in the warm glow of the street lights

you end up sitting on the floor as you start curling Feyre's hair, giggling at the stories Mor tells

you carefully pin half of Feyre's hair up while she puts Mor's hair in soft waves and Mor does her own make up

the candles you lit on the windowsill are flickering

and it smells like apples and biscuits

Mor's eyeliner is sharp enough that you just wordlessly hand her your make up bag

Mor grins and squeezes your cheeks before getting to work

all the while, Feyre does your hair

then Mor does Feyre's make up as well while you lean against the bed, shaking with laughter at the grimaces Mor pulls to try and get Feyre to crack

when she's done, Mor disappears into the bathroom to get dressed first

"Guys."

Feyre and you raise your heads, and Mor grins and opens her arms.

"What d'you think?"

Feyre whistles lowly, and you raise your brows with a cheeky grin. "Hot."

Mor winks before doing a dramatic spin. Her lightweight flowy gown spins with her, billowing around her. It's so long, it sways around the ankles of her knee-high chunky boots when she comes to a still and grins, doing a happy, giddy wiggle.

"I didn't even notice the details before." You clamber to your feet to inspect the ruffles and the way they cleverly add layers and dimension to the fabric.

"I know!" Mor widens her eyes and happily swings her sleeves in front of her face, raising her brows. "I'm just gonna start wearing this day to day."

Feyre giggles as she picks up her clothes. "Grocery shopping is gonna be a blast."

Mor wiggles her brows and winks, then she grins and turns around to float out of the room. Feyre grins at you and follows her to disappear into the bathroom, and you close the door to get dressed yourself.

The tights you found at a drugstore sit snug against your legs as you slip into the black boots with the chunky heels that already resided in your closet. You bought them a few years ago with Mor, who lent a similar pair to Feyre as well. Then you straighten and carefully pin one side of your soft black skirt up, until it's rouched and gathered at your waist, and the side of your thigh is showing.

There's a light knock, and you make a face as you fight your way into your corset, nearly getting caught on your lace sleeve.

"Mor?" You grumble. "Can you help me with the corset, cause I'm not sure I can lace it up at the front -" You raise your head, and your heart catches in your throat.

In the mirror, you see Azriel leaning in the doorway. His hands are slipped into the pockets of his black jeans, and his shoulders are straining against his black t-shirt. His dark hair is curling and tousled, a strand falling into his forehead as his gaze slowly drags over your body, and something shifts in his gaze, grows warm and deep and heated.

He looks like he always does.

Except for one major change that makes your lips part and heart leap into your throat.

His eyes, always a warm shade of caramel, are now a deep, twinkling gold.

Something suddenly starts fluttering against your ribs.

One corner of Azriel's lips curves upwards. Then he sends you a slow, lazy smirk, and your heart topples and nearly stops beating when you catch the flash of sharp fangs.

Holy shit.

The smooth planes of his face are illuminated by the warm light, throwing shadows under his cheekbones and jaw as he pushes off the doorframe, and you watch in the mirror, your breath hitching with every inhale as he slowly walks towards you. His soundless, smooth gait somehow seems even more prowling than usual, and you have to keep yourself from swallowing violently when he comes to a half right behind you. His body towers over you in the mirror, and you can feel his body brush against your back when he shifts his weight, his bright eyes piercing yours before he lowers his head.

His warm fingers brush against your back, and through the lace, you shiver, your heart leaping into your throat.

Azriel throws you a look, and one corner of his lips twitches. Then he drops his gaze again and starts lacing up the back of your corset.

Your breath catches, and suddenly you feel very, very hot.

You're sure Azriel has to hear your heart pounding as he gently pulls the black silky ribbons tight, working his way from the top to the bottom. You're tempted to ask with a cheeky grin how he knows how to do this.

But you're afraid your voice won't listen.

There's a concentrated furrow between Azriel's brows as he carefully ties the ends of the ribbons in a bow, then he raises his eyes to meet yours in the mirror, and one corner of his lips quirk as he reaches up to lightly straighten one of the broad straps sitting on your shoulders.

"Good?" His deep, low voice vibrates through you and makes your heart leap high, and you swallow despite yourself and nod softly.

The curve to Azriel's lips deepens, and the ghost of a crease forms in his cheek when he sends you a slow, lazy smirk. The deceptively real looking fangs flash in the light, and suddenly, your skin tingles.

"Thanks." Your voice is soft and a little weak and catches in your throat when Azriel carefully reaches up to tuck some hair behind your ear.

He sends you a slow, light smirk, and somehow, you pull yourself together and grin back cheekily.

"Any specific thing you're supposed to be?"

Azriel shrugs lazily, raising his head and raising a brow. "Demon."

You blink, and suddenly, your throat is dry again.

"Right." Your voice is breathless and a little high, and Azriel's lips curve. Then his hands slide down to your waist, and gently, he tugs you around until you face him. Even in the high boots, you have to tilt your head back to look up at him, and something starts rising under your ribs, warm and pulsing when your chest brushes against Azriel's.

The crease in Azriel's cheek deepens as one corner of his lips curves into a light grin. Then he drops his head, and your heart tethers when his breath brushes over your skin.

His nose brushes against yours tantalizingly slow, then Azriel dips his head and kisses you.

A soft sound breaks from your throat, and you stretch, your hand sliding up to bury in Azriel's dark hair, the other clinging to his shirt as you kiss back, firm and just a little desperate.

The fangs graze your lip, and your breath catches. Your lips part, and Azriel makes a low sound deep in his chest, his hand coming up to slide into your hair and tilt your head back, and he kisses you deeper, harder, his chest pressing into yours as his tongue lazily maps yours.

"Dude!"

Feyre's indignant voice makes you pull back with a soft gasp, your fingers digging into Azriel's t-shirt, and he rolls his eyes and looks over his shoulder to glower at Feyre, but she just glowers back.

"Get your hands out of her hair, I worked hard on that!"

you somehow manage to pry yourself out of Azriel's grasp

your willpower must be magnificent

bc the way he's gazing down at you, his golden eyes piercing and heated and twinkling

makes your stomach throw loop after loop

you're glad Mor isn't the one who caught you

or that she hasn't applied your lipstick yet

Feyre shoos Azriel out of the room, and he lets her, just looking grumpy yet faintly amused

then she calls for Mor, and you somehow shake yourself out of the fast thrum of your heart and the pull in your lower stomach

Feyre looks spectacular

the black dress she's wearing has billowy sleeves that fall off her shoulders and a long tired skirt

she wears the corset you ended up ordering for her

black and with intricate stitching

and her tights glitter in the light whenever she moves

together, you lay last hand on your costumes

you put on the dozens of thin necklaces you own anyway

together with an assortment of rings and dangly earrings

Feyre does the same, marvelling at the manicure Mor has given all of you a couple of days earlier

it's a shade of such deep red, it nearly looks black

Mor adds deep, nearly black lipstick to your look and poufs up her hair

and you help Feyre add her lace cape that sits on her hair and falls over her back

then Mor pulls you to stand in front of the mirror, grinning

"we look good."

you really do

"the holy trinity of female spookiness." you grin and Feyre laughs, her shoulders shaking under her cape

Mor takes a picture of all of you

then she shoos you out of the room

Feyre goes to check if Cassian has managed to put on his t-shirt without smudging his make up

Mor goes to check on the buffet Rhys has erected in the mean time

and you make your way to the kitchen to see if you can help him with the rest of the snacks

the bar is already set up under spooky purple lights

all of your bottles next to the cauldron mugs, spooky wine glasses and other glassware

on the table, the steaming cauldron is surrounded by bowls and bowls with the biggest array of snacks possible

and Rhys is standing with his back to you, digging in the fridge

"You know, I was gonna ask if you need help, but -", you raise your brows, "looks like you're good."

Rhys appears from the depth of the fridge and turns his head towards you, and your lips part.

So that's where Azriel has the contacts from.

"What the -"

Rhys smirks, then he closes the fridge and raises an eyebrow, and you stare at him wide-eyed.

Damn.

Rhys is wearing expensive looking slacks, a shirt half unbuttoned that shows off his tones abs and chest and the tattoos snaking over his skin. His face looks flawless, more flawless than usual, his hair sits even better than usual, which you didn't think was possible, and his eyes -

"Holy shit." You gape, and Rhys winks.

His eyes have been sort of purple-ish since birth, which has been confirmed by one evening of baby photo stalking (which made for lot of laughter and teasing all around). It has fascinated you ever since you met him, but now, they're not just the usual deep blue. Instead, they're a stark, twinkling violet.

You almost ask what he's supposed to be. But then you catch a glimpse at his ears, and your mouth falls open even wider.

"Holy. Shit."

Rhys snorts when you immediately scurry forward to reach up and carefully touch the pointy ears that look so real, you nearly pull one just to see if it's actually attached.

"Where did you get that?"

"I have my ways." Rhys smirks down at you, and you blink before grinning.

"So what, you're like a hot, modern day elf?"

Rhys snorts.

"Basically. I wanted to do a whole Lord of the Rings elf thing first, but then -" His lips curve into a wicked smile. "Well, I don't know. I guess I liked this look better."

You blink and slowly start to grin back widely. "Yeah..."

You see why.

It really looks more like him.

at around 11 pm, the flat is stuffed to the brim

there are people everywhere

on the couches, the armchairs and the chairs, the floor and windowsills

the hall is packed just like the kitchen, and there are even loads of people out on the balcony, even tho it is fucking freezing

the buffet is a massive hit

it looks amazing, with the skulls and the themed food

the bar is just as popular

the music is making the floor vibrate, some Hallooween party playlist on shuffle that Mor has created for the occasion

you can tell that this party is also more excluse by just how elaborately everyone is dressed up

more have lost count of the times you have stopped people to compliment their outfits

you have seen more witches, dozens of sirens and vampires, some very fancy zombies -

Mor drags you and Feyre to dance more times than you can count

you twirl in circles, your skirts billowing, and your heart nearly explodes from how much its thrumming with happiness

whenever you focus, you can feel eyes on you

and whenever you look over your shoulder, you meet golden eyes trained on you from an armchair by the couches

but you also catch violet ones that are watching your best friend

every time, you slowly start to beam at their owner

and every time, you get back a huff, an easy smirk and a wink

cheeky bastard

you find yourself on the couch next to Cassian for a good half an hour, your legs dragged over his lap to save space and a big plate balanced on your knees as you try yourself through the whole buffet

Rhys drags you outside to breathe a little later, and you grin at him long enough that he rolls his eyes

"I'll do something about it eventually"

the way he grumbles it makes you actually believe him

tho you swear to yourself that if he doesn't get a move on soon, you'll actually have to play cupid

this has been going on for long enough in your opinion

and Mor's, judging by the way she smirks at her cousin a little later when the two of you catch a glimpse at Feyre and Rhys in the corner of the living room

deep in conversation, Rhys staring down at her with a wide smile while Feyre is laughing

"idiots,", Mor just says with a mischievous grin

then she drags you with her for a break in the kitchen where it's a little less crowded and you find a spot on the couch

Mor mixing you a series of spooky and very tasty drinks

she's a lot better at that than Rhys and you

at 2 am, the party is still at full swing when you make yourself into the living room

your eyes meet golden ones, and your heart leaps high

your already heated cheeks grow warmer, and your breath catches when Azriel lightly shifts in his seat, spreading his long legs a little wider in a silent invite

your lips start to curve until you smile brightly

then you slip through the crowd, dodging elbows and arms until you can slide into between Azriel's knees and plop down into the armchair with him

sliding into the space between him and the armrest, you giggle when Az slides his hand under your knee and pulls your legs up until they're hanging over the opposite armrest

his arm slides down your back and around your waist, and Azriel lazily sinks back in his seat, pulling you into his body

his golden eyes flicker over your face, and you prop your arm onto his shoulder and blink at him with a cheeky smile

the corner of Azriel's lips twitches

"yes?"

his deep, low voice vibrated through you, causing your heart to skip, and your smile widens

then you lean forward and whisper into his ear: "I'm gonna need help to get out of the corset later."

Azriel's grip on your leg tightens

he huffs gently

and when you pull back, he stares at you

one corner of his lips slowly curves upwards

then he gently pushes your legs off the armrest and straightens, his warm breath brushing over your neck and causing your heart to leap into your throat when he mumbles into your back

"get up."

you do not need him to be ask twice

the flat is finally quiet again by 4 am

Feyre, Mor and you are standing in the bathroom, all in pyjamas and giggling under your breath as you take off your make up

you're caught in that strange space between adrenaline, giddiness and complete exhaustion when you turn off the light in the hall

a paper bat brushes your head when you wave at Feyre and Mor who disappear into your room

then you slide into Azriel's room

The light of the bedside lamp dunks everything into a warm glow as you close the door behind you and turn around, and your heart skips gently.

Your clothes are still strewn all over the floor from earlier, mixed together with Azriel's. The bed is messy, sheets all over the place.

But what really makes your breath catch gently is Azriel laying on his back in the middle of the bed, shadows snaking over his bare torso and hair tousled as he watches with a tired twinkle in his eyes as you make your way over to the bed.

The contact lenses are gone, but as you slide under the blanket - you decide you prefer the warm amber twinkle.

Azriel's arm slides around your waist when you turn off the light, then he tugs you back into his body with easy strength that makes you giggle deliriously.

You feel his lips curve against your shoulder, then his grip tightens, and Azriel curls around you, until there's no place you can't feel him.

Your heart starts to flutter against your ribs, gentle and warm, growing even as your eyes grow heavy and you start to drift away into sleep, until there's a warm thrum in your chest.

Azriel's fingers starts to brush over your ribs, and you fall asleep to the feel of his nose buried at the back of your neck and his warm body pressed against yours.

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @luvmoo @icey--stars @secretlyhers @knmendiola @azriels-mate2 @bookishbroadwaybish @maybe-a-winchester @stayinglow-exploringworlds @harrystylesfan2686 @ssmay123 @kalulakunundrum @brekkershadowsinger @acotar-lover

[fairydustblossom]

A Locket Through Time | Azriel x reader

Summary: When Y/N touches an ancient artifact, she finds herself falling through time.

A/N: It’s not the most thought-through story I’ve ever posted, but we’re here for a good time and not to win a Pulitzer amirite? Also, once again I have rushed the ending because who has the time lol

Word count: 5800

Warnings: mild description of injuries, language, some implications of sexy time

-

“I want to touch it.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Y/N snickered as Rhys’ arm shot forward to slap Cassian’s hand away from the gleaming crystal.

The Lord of Bloodshed rolled his eyes. “It’s a crystal, Rhys. It won’t bite my hand off.”

It was Azriel’s calm tone that now sounded from behind Y/N’s back.

“Given that it was Devlon who discovered it, I would suggest treading carefully, brother.”

Cassian rolled his eyes and crossed bulging arms over his chest in a display of annoyance. He stood tall enough for his head to brush against the roof of the makeshift tent the Illyrians of Windhaven had erected on the edge of their camp. It stood just a few steps away from Rhys’ cabin, shielding a low stump atop which a comically small crystal rested for them to inspect.

“What did he say it was?” Rhys asked as he circled the stump with a pensive expression.

“He thinks it is a relic of the gods that ruled over Prythian before the age of the Fae,” Azriel explained calmly, hands crossed behind his back with his wings neatly folded. He was the picture of professionalism. Ever the spymaster.

Y/N smiled at him and felt her nose crinkle with delight at the smile he gave in return. His lips curled barely noticeable, but the secret lay in the spark that set his eyes aglow. It was the smile he reserved solely for her. It was accompanied by a tug of the bond.

“It could just as well be an ordinary crystal,” Cassian intervened. “I say we take it with us and ask Helion to have his librarians take a look at it.”

“What if it’s an ancient weapon though? We could accidentally set it off,” Y/N said, looking from Azriel to Cassian and back. “Did Devlon say how he got it up on the log without touching it?”

“He used sticks.” Azriel’s face twisted into a grimace as though to express his discomfort with the Illyrian warlord’s simple methods.

Cassian snorted at that. “Elegant.”

Rhys sighed, running a palm down his face. “Azriel, could you try having your shadows lift it? I fear Cassian might be right and Helion’s libraries are our best shot. I don’t want to spend the rest of my day here because of a shiny rock.”

Azriel gave a single nod, and at once, shadows swarmed in from every direction to draw tight around the crystal.

One of the shadowsinger’s brows quirked up. “It’s surprisingly heavy.”

Y/N felt her forehead crease with worry as she watched the shadows begin to rise with the object they’d circled—their movements slow, sluggish even.

“Be careful not to drop—”

But before Rhys could finish his sentence, Azriel’s shadows shuddered as though they’d been hurt, and the crystal fell from its encasing.

Y/N lunged without a second thought, and as her fingers wrapped around the cool, smooth surface of the cylindric crystal, the last thing she heard was her name—twisted with panic as it fell from her mate’s lips in a call to rattle her bones.

-

A low roar rang through Y/N’s head as she pulled open her eyes, squinting against the blinding beams of the setting sun.

Had it not been noon just now?

And had there not been a tent?

There was dirt beneath her palms as she pushed to her knees, sharp pebbles pressing deep into her skin. Every bone in her body was aching, a slight sense of nausea sitting in the very pit of her stomach.

As she lifted her head to look around, everything seemed normal enough. There was Rhys' cabin behind her, sitting right on the border of a war camp that had just moments earlier been bristling with life. She could still hear faint voices, but something seemed ... gloomier than usual.

Turning her head, Y/N found only empty space where Azriel, Rhys and Cassian had stood just a moment ago, and at once, her heart picked up its pace. There was no sign of the tent. No sign of her friends.

No sign of her mate.

"Azriel?" she heard herself call into the eery silence of approaching nightfall.

Had that crystal knocked her out? Surely, her friends wouldn't have just left her there if that had been the case—Azriel wouldn’t have left her. Something had to have happened.

It took a few tries to force her body back on her feet. Her knees were wobbly, dizziness washing over her in waves, and just as she was about to call out for Azriel again, she spotted something gleaming on the muddy mountain ground.

The crystal.

She knew better than to touch it again, pulling the sleeve of her fighting leathers over her hand as she reached out to carefully pick up the crystal to push it into the depths of her pocket.

Whatever was going on, it had started when she touched the crystal—she was sure of it.

The shockwave must've knocked her unconscious somehow, but that did not yet explain what had happened to Azriel and the others.

A lump of worry sat in the pit of her stomach, though she got momentarily distracted as a voice sounded behind her and her heart gave a startled leap.

"Can I help you, girl?"

Turning, she found a large Illyrian male, arms the size of tree trunks crossed over a broad chest, and thick brows tugged deep into his face. He looked grim in the way he scanned her from top to bottom.

"You haven't by any chance seen the Shadowsinger anywhere, have you?" He stared at her, unmoving, unblinking, so she cleared her throat, and continued, "Or perhaps the General? The High Lord?"

His eyebrow quirked at that. "And what business might you have with the High Lord, woman?"

She bristled at his tone. She was used to the Illyrian disregard towards anything female, but ever since she'd been mated to Azriel and frequented the camps accompanying Cassian or the Valkyries, most had gotten used to seeing her around.

"That is none of your concern," she said. "I was merely asking whether you'd seen him. He was here just a moment ago. Along with the General and the Shadowsinger."

"There you go with that word again," the Illyrian said, tilting his head with a mildly condescending glint in his eye. "What might a shadowsinger be?"

She stared at him.

He stared back.

As she turned her head, she assured herself that they were, in fact, in Windhaven. Perhaps she’d been transported to some other camp somehow?

But no, that was definitely Rhys’ cabin behind her.

Had this male spent the last five hundred years in a cave? How was it possible for him to not know of Azriel?

Surely, he was mocking her.

"I shall go look for them myself," she muttered, turning to head for the heart of the camp. "Perhaps Devlon knows where they went."

Suddenly, a large hand wrapped around her arm, its grip tight enough to bruise her skin even through her leathers.

Turning abruptly, she found herself face to face with the stranger.

"Who do you think you are to speak of Lord Devlon in such a way?" the Illyrian growled so close to her face that she could smell meat on his breath. "I don't know how you got into this camp in the first place, but unless you intend to get on your back, spread your legs and work on popping out a few half-breed soldiers, I suggest you hurry back to where you came from. High Fae have no business in Illyria."

She stared at him. "I beg your pard—"

"Galen,” a new voice called from behind the stranger, who in return twisted his neck to see who had called for him. “What do you have there?”

Galen’s face never lost its scowl. “I caught a High Fae female snooping around.”

Laughter rang across the clearing—growing nearer by the second—and it was that moment that Y/N decided that it was best to not stick around.

With a skilled kick of the knee—a move Cassian had taught her—she sent Galen’s body curling into a ball as his hands flew to his loins with a pained groan falling from his lips.

Before his friend had a chance to catch up with her, she turned, and she ran.

-

Breath was tearing in and out of her lungs as Y/N jumped behind a nondescript hut at the corner of the camp, praying to the Mother that her pursuers had lost her trace by now.

It had taken every bit of the knowledge she’d gathered over the past decades to navigate the camp and lose the growing group of angry Illyrians attempting to catch her. She did not want to entertain the thought of being caught, as it had dawned on her by now that for some reason, they had no idea who she was. There was no telling what they would do without the protection of her name.

She held her breath as she observed Galen and his fellow warriors taking a route that led them to the centre of the courtyard and therefore a bit further away from her hiding place. A sigh fell from her lips.

Her relief, however, was short lived, as she soon noticed a figure moving from the corner of her eye—a figure close enough to capture her.

But when Y/N spun around with her dagger lifted in defence, her knee still digging into the dirt, she saw herself faced with a boy no older than eight or nine.

"By the Mother," she hissed, lowering her dagger, though she didn't yet sheathe it entirely, for fear the large Illyrian brutes would return any moment to snatch her. "Don't sneak up on people like that or you will catch an accidental blade to the gut one of these days."

The boy didn't say anything. He observed her with interest flickering in his eyes, though the rest of his face remained perfectly neutral, his arms crossed behind his back.

His hair was as dark as that of most Illyrians, shaggy in the way the strands dangled before his deep brown eyes. But other than most Illyrian children she'd seen over the past few decades, he was smaller, paler, his wings folded neatly behind his back, though somehow ... thinner than she'd come to know.

She cleared her throat. "Listen, I would be immensely grateful if you didn't rat me out."

His eyes flickered to something behind her then, but when she turned, she saw nothing, and when she peeked around the corner of the hut once more, the commotion in the courtyard had cleared, the booming voice of her pursuer growing more and more distant.

"I heard you ask for a shadowsinger," the boy said quietly, and it was the first time she heard him speak. His voice was calm, though there was a rasp to it that suggested disuse.

"Yes," she said, her heart leaping with hope. "Have you seen him?"

The boy looked at her, and for a moment it almost seemed like his eyes carried all the wisdom in the world—wisdom far beyond his age, and grief he shouldn't yet know.

"What is a shadowsinger?"

She sighed, slumping back against the wall of the hut when she concluded that the boy would most likely not slit her throat. This situation was a mess, and she was starting to grow tired of it.

"You'd know if you'd seen him," she muttered. "He commands shadows. They follow him around, circle his limbs, that sort of stuff."

It was silent for a while, but when the boy spoke again, his tone had changed, a note of curiosity bleeding into his words.

"I didn't know that's what they called someone who could do that."

She offered him a small smile, but when she noted a shadowy tendril curling its way up her arm, she bolted upright, her back suddenly straightened from the hunched position she'd kept.

"Are you doing this?" she asked, watching as the shadow detached itself from her to scurry across the muddy ground towards the boy's feet.

When she looked at him, he gave a single nod, his chin now lowered a fraction as though bashful.

"So you are a shadowsinger, too!" she smiled. "That's a rare and powerful gift you have there."

The boy hummed, the tip of his boot kicking at a pebble as he took his eyes from her for a moment. "My father says it's nonsense."

"Then your father is a moron," she said, grimacing when she realised what she'd said. "No offence."

She thought she could see the slightest twitch of his lips, but it was gone faster than it had appeared, and he swiftly slipped back into that seriousness that seemed much too heavy for his age.

"My mate is a shadowsinger as well," she offered. "He's the spymaster, right hand to the High Lord. He's one of the three most powerful males of this court."

The boy tilted his head. "He's who you're looking for?"

She nodded. "I think I ... I might have hit my head and passed out, and now I can't find him anywhere." She cleared her throat as she hugged her knees, the dagger now forgotten on the ground beside her, the mountain wind blowing the hair from her face. "I'm starting to get worried something bad might have happened."

He seemed to contemplate her words for a moment. "I could help you find him."

She looked at him. "You'd do that?"

He gave another single nod. "I could ask the shadows to tell me where he is."

Her shoulders sagged a bit with relief. She knew the power of shadows, knew their infallible ability to locate.

"That would be—" but she didn't get to finish her sentence, as the last of her words got stuck in her throat when the boy lifted his hands to gather a dark cluster of shadow before him.

She stared at him then, at the dark eyes, at the tilt of his mouth, the soft round cheeks, the shaggy black hair covering his forehead. There was a freckle just beneath the corner of his left eye, and as her gaze flickered back down to his bandaged hands, the world seemed to tip to its side.

She noticed his lips moving, a puzzled look on his face when she only stared at him.

She blinked, shook her head.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "What did you say?"

"I asked if you're okay."

"Oh ... yes, yeah." Running a hand through her hair, Y/N turned to check if they were still alone. "I, uhm," she cleared her throat as she turned back. "I'm sorry ... what happened to your hands?"

At once, the shadows scurried away as the boy moved his hands back behind his back, chin dipping even lower as he avoided her gaze.

For a long while, she thought he wouldn't answer, but finally, "I burned them."

She blinked again, taking a deep breath through her nose against the growing dizziness.

There was no way.

This was a coincidence. It had to be.

"What is your name?"

The boy looked at her as though contemplating whether it was safe to tell her, and when he spoke his name, it felt as though the very ground gave in beneath her feet.

"Azriel."

-

She'd touched the crystal. All she'd done was touch the crystal—there was no way she'd somehow travelled back in time.

Over 500 years back in time.

It explained why that Illyrian had never heard of a shadowsinger. Why he did not know her. Why the tent was gone.

Somehow, she’d fallen out of her time.

Her breathing quickened then. Because what if this was permanent? What if the crystal only worked once, or only worked to send you back in time, not forward? What if she'd be forever stuck in this reality?

What if the only way she’d ever see her mate again was by watching his eight-year-old self grow into the man he’d become?

"Lady?"

She blinked at the boy before her, and her heart gave a painful twist. Those were Azriel's eyes looking at her with mild concern, Azriel's hands that had been burned by cruel brothers not long ago. She was looking at the tortured child version of her beloved mate, knowing everything that had already happened to him, everything that would happen to him before things finally got better, and her heart was breaking.

"Yes," she cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, I was just ... thinking."

He watched her, observing, quiet.

"Did you want me to find your mate?"

"Oh ... no, that's okay. I just felt him tug on the bond, so he's fine." Curiosity entered his eyes at the mention of the mating bond, so she changed the subject before he could ask further questions. "Would you like me to take a look at your hands?" she asked with all the gentleness she could muster. "I'm a healer, you see. Maybe I can help."

He didn't say anything, but something within her face seemed to make her seem trustworthy enough and so after a long while, he hesitantly pulled his hands from behind his back.

"They're ugly," he spoke as though in warning as she began to unwrap the bandages.

Her brows twitched together. "Now, that's nonsense."

Beneath the bandages lay blistering, burned skin—raw flesh torn by flames and twisted into angry red welts.

"They're not ugly," she said quietly, her voice thick as she took gentle hold of his left wrist to steady his hand as she hovered her palm over his without touching the wounds. "They've just been through a lot. You're incredibly brave, you know?"

She met his eye briefly, and she saw then that a part of him wondered whether she knew the true cause of his injuries without him having told her about them.

Sending warm, healing light to glow from the palm of her hand, she focussed on mending his flesh, on soothing his pain and fixing what had been torn so viciously. When she was done, his skin still lay twisted by the scars she knew so well, but at least his open wounds had been healed.

She repeated the procedure with his other hand, and when she was done, she observed his expression.

Baby Azriel stared at his open palms before turning his hands to stare at their backs too, taking in the healed expanse of his injuries.

"Thank you," he finally said, curling his fingers into fists. "They don't hurt anymore."

And yet, she could tell that he still hated the way they looked. She could tell from his face, despite his best efforts to hide his grief behind a well-practiced mask. She could tell because she knew him.

Taking his hands in hers, she offered him a smile. "It'll take some time for you to learn to live with it, Azriel. But it's not impossible. Let your scars be a reminder of your bravery. Let them show all that you have survived."

He looked at her, nodding slowly.

As she held his gaze to properly convey her words, she suddenly realised something.

Of course.

Lifting her hands, she unclasped the locket Azriel had gifted her upon their mating ceremony, and suddenly everything seemed so ... clear.

Baby Azriel's eyes flickered to her hands as she offered him the cobalt blue locket on a chain. He seemed a bit unsure of what to do with it, and so Y/N offered him a smile.

"I want you to have it," she spoke gently. "It's been dipped in magic, bewitched to protect whoever carries it. It will keep you safe."

Baby Azriel hesitated, though she could see in his eyes what those words did to him. How much he longed for protection, for safety. "Won't you miss it?"

She looked at the locket with softening eyes, thumb brushing across the gem.

"Very much," she spoke quietly before lifting her gaze back to him. "But you need it more than I do. I am already protected—my mate protects me every day. I don't need it anymore." She lifted her hands to carefully drape the thin chain around Azriel's neck. "You deserve to be protected, Azriel. You deserved to be loved. Don’t ever forget that."

It was with those words that she slipped her hand into the pocket of her leathers to wrap around the smooth surface of the crystal.

-

Rhys' hut was bright with warm gleaming faelights, laughter and chatter droning from the inside as she approached. She wondered how much time had passed since her accidental excursion to the past.

She thought about knocking, but before she raised her knuckles, she peeked through the window by the door, and her heart promptly sank.

They were all there—Rhys, Cassian, Azriel—and they looked as they did in her time. Broad bodies lounged in cushioned armchairs, fighting leathers covering every inch of their bodies. But there was something different to them, something ... lighter.

Cassian's wings were missing the scars they'd sustained in Hybern, and Rhysand's eyes were brighter. They were missing the heavier undertone they'd taken on during Amarantha's reign. Azriel's fighting leathers were void of Siphons, as were Cassian's, and she could tell even from a distance that he still carried the locket beneath them—the thin silver chain peeking from his leathers on the back of his neck.

And then there was the small but important detail that all three Illyrians carried females on their laps that most certainly weren't their mates.

Cassian was tongue-deep in the throat of a beautiful Illyrian woman, his hands roaming the ample curves of her hips, fingers digging into her flesh to pull her closer while Rhys laughed at something the blonde girl on his lap whispered into his ear.

It was the sight of another's lips on Azriel's throat that had her blood boil with anger despite herself.

She knew this was the past. Knew that this was their youth, that he hadn't even met her yet. But that didn't change the fact that she didn't want to see him with someone else.

The female was Illyrian, too, but from the large gash in her right wing, Y/N could tell that she'd been clipped already. Her hair was as dark as that of most Illyrians, falling in luscious waves almost all the way down to her ass, and when Y/N watched scarred fingers tangle in the strands—scarred fingers she herself had healed—, she finally took a step away from the window.

There was no reason to torture herself, after all.

The bright side was that the crystal actually did allow for her to travel forward in time, though by her own calculations—assuming that the boys were somewhere in their mid to late twenties in this current timeframe—it only allowed jumps of some 15 to 20 years at a time, which promised a tedious process given that she'd still have to skip a little over 500 years to return to her own time.

"Can I help you?"

She spun around at the low voice coming from behind her, and swallowed thickly as she met a familiar pair of dark eyes.

Azriel stood looming before her, his face carefully neutral, his stance casual yet alert. He kept his wings folded neatly, shadows circling their claws.

"Oh, uhm," her eyes flickered to the side in search of an excuse. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I was just ... leaving."

Azriel's eyes flickered to her feet and as she followed his gaze, she spotted shadows gathering beneath her shoes, black puffs of night circling her shins, only visible due to the faelight streaming from the hut's windows.

"Do I know you?" Azriel asked.

When she lifted her head, she found his eyes already on her. She knew him well enough to spot the curiosity in his gaze, no matter how well he'd gotten in hiding his expression since she'd met his eight-year-old self. A mate could tell.

"I doubt it, I'm just visiting from Velaris," she said, smiling.

Azriel gave a hum, eyes flickering to his shadows by her feet again. "It's just that my shadows seem somehow drawn to you. They told me you were standing outside the door."

"Oh, well," she cleared her throat. "That's sweet of them."

This time, when Azriel looked her in the eyes, she felt exposed. Like he'd be able to tell if he were to look too closely. Like he'd be able to recognise the one his soul was tethered to, even if another 300 years would pass before they were destined to meet.

"What's your name?"

Y/N opened her mouth, not knowing what she would say, since she couldn't risk telling him her real name. But she didn't get far, as the door soon opened to flood the night with warm light and reveal the girl with the clipped wings, her lips pouty as she searched the darkness for Azriel.

When she spotted the two, her eyelids lowered considerably, lips curling seductively as she trailed her attention down Y/N's body. "You didn't mention we'd be getting more company, Az. Not that I'm complaining." She tilted her head and offered a smile, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth as she did so. "I'm Willa. Are you going to be joining us?"

"Oh," Y/N gasped, feeling her cheeks heat at Willa's implication. "Oh, no I ... I was just leaving, actually."

The Illyrian shrugged before turning to go back inside, though not without a few last words purred over her shoulder.

"Hurry up, Az. Otherwise Cass and Mel are going to be done before we even start."

Y/N cleared her throat as the door shut, once again dimming the light to a soft glow.

"I'm sorry for interrupting." She had to force the words from her mouth, bile rising in her throat at the thought of what would go down as soon as she left—what Azriel would do, and who he would be doing it with. "It was nice meeting you, Azriel."

Azriel's gaze lay heavy on her—heavy and assuring and so full of interest that part of her wanted to tug on the bond just to see what would happen.

"Likewise," Azriel said, eyes still on her as she turned to leave. "Though I'd be interested to hear how you know my name."

She froze at that. "I think Willa mentioned it."

Azriel tilted his head, eyes narrowing a mere fraction. "Willa called me Az."

"Well, I ... guessed the rest," Y/N said, lifting a shoulder as she carefully began walking backwards. "Like I said, it was nice meeting you."

Before she’d reached the line of trees that bordered on the camp, she shoved her hand into the pocket of her pants, and as her fingers closed around the cool crystal, she hoped that Azriel—whose gaze she could still feel boring into her back—would assume that she'd simply winnowed away.

-

The sun was bright in the sky this time around, and cautious optimism took a hold of Y/N as she once again neared Rhys’ cabin, the soothing weight of the crystal in her pocket.

The state in which she’d find Azriel and the others would determine whether she could truly only jump 20 years at a time. It would determine the effort it would take to return to her own time.

Like the last time, she could hear voices coming from the hut, though they weren’t inside.

It was just as Cassian and Azriel rounded the corner that she managed to jump behind a nearby tree. They looked older than they had last time. Some scars had appeared on both their wings, but with a slow sinking of her heart she noticed the locket dangling from Azriel’s neck.

Still too early then.

She was just about to shove her hand in her pocket to touch the crystal, done with this tedious business, when she heard the mention of her own name.

Looking up, she spotted Cassian now lounging on the stairs leading up to the cabin, rolled up mirth root lodged between his lips as he grinned up at Azriel, who stood with his arms crossed and his feet wide.

“What are you, twelve?” she heard her mate ask, his voice as low as ever, though there was a distinct note of amusement in his tone.

Cassian snickered, taking the mirth root from his lips for smoke to plume before his face. “What? Given that you’re so convinced she’ll turn out to be your mate, I’m just trying to make sure that you don’t have an eternity of sexual frustration ahead of you. Cauldron knows you’ve had enough to last you a lifetime.”

Azriel snorted. “Thanks, brother.”

Cassian grinned. “So?”

Even from her hiding place, Y/N could hear Azriel’s sigh. “So what?”

“So, are you sleeping with her?”

“I’m not talking about this with you.”

“Because you’re suddenly so shy about sex?”

“Because I don’t want her thinking I go around bragging about intimate details.”

The Lord of Bloodshed groaned, tilting his head back to stare at the sky. “I didn’t ask you to draw a picture of the position. It’s a yes or no question.”

Silence settled for a moment, and Y/N watched Azriel’s shoulders growing tense, until—

“No.”

Cassian looked up at that. “No?”

From her position behind the tree, Y/N could only see Azriel’s side profile, but it was enough to see his jaw clench. “No, we haven’t had sex yet.”

Amusement flickered across Cassian’s face. “Well, it seems she might just be the only female in all of Prythian that can withstand your charm, brother.”

Azriel seemed to hesitate. An unusual picture.

“It’s just …” he stopped, clearing his throat as he watched his left foot dig the tip of his boot into the soft earth of the ground. “I’m worried she might be … disappointed.”

Y/N flinched as Cassian threw back his head and barked laughter into the skies.

“The shadowsinger,” Cassian chuckled. “Insecure about his sexual prowess. Who would have thought the day would come.”

“Well, it wasn’t important before,” Azriel snapped, to which Cassian lifted a brow. With a sigh, Az continued, “You know what I mean. I want to spend the rest of my life with her, and so I want it … I need it to be good for her.”

Y/N smiled to herself, well aware of how entirely unfounded Azriel’s worries would turn out to be. She’d never realised her mate had troubled himself with this.

Cassian took a deep breath through his nose. “Well, I’m gonna go ahead and say that—should you truly end up being mates—the bond will probably take care of it.” Face twisting into a grimace, he added, “And even if not, judging by the past 300 years that I’ve had the pleasure to share a bedroom wall with you, I doubt you have any reason to worry.”

Azriel clicked his tongue, an exasperated expression on his face, and before she could stop herself, Y/N snorted a laugh.

At once, Cassian and Azriel’s demeanour changed entirely. Rising to their full height, tension crept into their shoulders, eyes firmly locked on the little cluster of trees she was hiding in.

Her heart dropped as she watched them share a look, and when Azriel sent his shadows rushing for the treeline with only the slightest wave of his hand, she quickly buried her hand in her pocket.

-

This time, when she woke up, there was no headache. There was no dirty ground, but the soft panelled flooring of a makeshift Illyrian tent. There were warm palms cupping her cheeks, a voice calling her name.

“My love,” it said, a distinct note of worry shaking the words. “Please open your eyes.”

She did as he’d asked, and as soon as she met Azriel’s gaze she knew for a fact that she’d made it. She was back.

Before she could open her mouth, Azriel had already scooped her into a tight embrace, palm cupping the back of her head as he pressed her against his body, muttering a quiet thanks to the Cauldron into her hair repeatedly.

As she raised her gaze to look at Cassian and Rhys, she was met with all the more concern.

“By the Cauldron, you gave us a good fright there, sweetheart,” Cassian muttered, the usual ease missing from his tone.

“What happened?” She asked as Azriel loosened his arms to instead focus his attention on scanning her for any obvious injuries. When he did not find any, he took gentle hold of her hand.

“Can you get up?”

She gave a nod.

“What happened?” she asked again.

Cassian and Rhys exchanged a look.

“You vanished,” the High Lord said finally, and as though in reaction to his words, she felt Azriel’s grip tighten on her hand.

“You caught the stone and then you were gone,” Cassian added. “Good thing you’re back now—Az nearly tore down the camp.”

A crease appeared between her brows. “How long was I gone for?”

It was Azriel’s calm voice that spoke now, though she knew that he’d slipped back into his mask of composure. The bond told her of his true emotions—of his rapidly beating heart and the panic he’d endured.

“Three hours.”

She ran a palm down her face.

“Can you tell us where the crystal took you?” Rhys asked as he knelt down next to the crystal she must have dropped upon her arrival.

Y/N gave a gentle scoff. “You wouldn’t believe me if I did.”

It was then that she felt a featherlight touch on the side of her neck—Azriel’s fingers skimming the bare skin that an hour earlier had been adorned with the locket he’d gifted her upon their mating ceremony.

As she met his gaze, she could see the question sitting there, and when she lifted her hand to catch his own between her palms, she offered a soft smile.

“I gave it to someone who needed it more than I did,” she whispered so only he could hear. “He deserved to be protected. He deserved to be loved. And I didn’t want him to ever forget it.”

It took a short while for her words to settle in, but finally the crease between Azriel’s brows softened with realisation, and his eyes flickered to the scarred hand she held safe between hers.

“Of course,” she thought she heard him breathe as he shook his head in mesmerisation. “It was you.”

And when he lowered his lips to hers, she felt the bond glow brighter than the sun.

[fairydustblossom]

the first sign of fall chapter four: you said no attachment

college au, the inner circle boys and the reader are bartenders.

pairings - eris vanserra x reader, a teensy bit of azriel x reader

summary - talking things out seems impossible, so you give up and do exactly what you shouldn't. you, azriel, and eris seem to never be able to find a way to communicate or to tell each other how you feel.

word count - 3.2k

a/n - man. i'm sorry. i love making things go horribly wrong. i swear things will work out at some point, but right now everybody has to be sad and afraid otherwise it's too easy. ALSO thank you to everyone who is showing so much support for this series. like i wish i could buy you all cookies or something.

You push your way into the locker room slowly. It’s filled with steam, curling its way from the showers, around the lockets, pooling at your feet. Almost like it was reaching you, pulling you towards him. You hear the steady stream of water against tile, broken only by the body under it. He wasn’t facing you. His back taught and head down, letting the scolding water stain his hair darker. 

“Eris?” 

Your voice was wavering and unsure. Your feet moving from side to side, fingers fiddling with the sleeve of your jacket. He straightened, his head raising, his entire body stiffening. Hackles up. The water turned off. He reached for the towel hanging on the wall next to him and wrapped it around his waist before turning around, towards you, but not looking at you. He traipsed across the room to his bag and started rifling through it for his clothes. His only acknowledgement of you, a small sniff as you sighed. 

“Please talk to me” 

It was the closest thing to begging he’d ever heard from you. Those four words drenched in desperation that was so out of character that his eyes snapped to yours. He shook his head, 

“I don’t have anything to say.” 

You take a deep shuddering breath. Trying to think what he wants from you. Scraping every corner of your mind for the right thing to say. You come up empty. You study his face, the cut on his lip, his forehead. The bleeding had stopped for the most part, but a garish bruise was starting to form on his cheekbone. You take a tentative step towards him. He doesn’t move an inch, almost as if he’s frozen. A deer in headlights. His eyes don’t leave yours as you draw closer and raise a hand to brush your fingers over the welt now blossoming under his skin. His eyes flutter closed and it takes all of his effort to lean away from your touch instead of into it. 

“Don’t” A small warning. Enough to force you a couple steps back. “I don't think I can do this. I meant it.” 

You shake your head vehemently, “Please don’t say that. Please. You want to talk? Let’s talk. You can’t just decide you’re done. There’s two of us in this Eris.” 

“You want to talk? Talk then.” 

He stares at you. His face completely unreadable. Cold in a way that it never had been before. His eyes always sold him away, always carried all of his feelings, like a window straight to his heart. But now, looking at them, you couldn’t see a thing. The only other person who ever managed that kind of mask….was Azriel. 

“I didn’t mean to blame you.” It was a lame response. You knew that. But you continued anyway. “You were hurt, and you'd gotten into a fight with Az, and I was worried, and lashed out.” 

He didn’t say anything. Small droplets of water rolled down his chest. His hair was tousled and damp. The heat of his body contrasting so harshly with the cool air, that small wisps of steam curled from him. It would have been a beautiful sight, if the look on his face didn’t scare you quite as much as it did. 

“Who were you really worried about?” His voice was low and calm. Horrifyingly calm. 

“Both of you.” 

It was an honest answer. Just not the one he wanted to hear. 

“I’m tired. I’m tired of being a second choice. I’m not something you can keep in your backpocket. I l-” 

He shook his head. As if the last couple words got stuck in his throat. He couldn’t say them. Not like this. Not when he was looking at you, draped in a jersey that wasn’t his, your eyes so desperate and pleading. I love you too much. That’s what he wanted to say. What he couldn’t say. Not when all he could think about was Azriel, and all those unspoken feelings. 

“You’re not.” 

That’s all you could say. Choking down the tears that you wanted to cry. You couldn’t cry. Not like this. You wouldn’t let him see that. It was too pathetic. Too desperate. 

He stared at you. Blankly. Mind reeling. You were on the brink of tears. He could see it plain as day. Just cry. Show some emotion. Any emotion. He wanted to yell it at you. Beg you. At least the tears would prove that this was more than nothing. But you didn’t. You just stood. Like looking at him was the most painful thing you could possibly be doing. 

He thought of Azriel. He had heard the two of you yelling before he had retreated to the showers, hoping that the water would drown out the sound of it. He didn’t want to hear what was being said. Didn’t need to hear more of Azriel’s opinions on him. 

He thought of the way that Azriel had years of history with you. The way he’d seen you cry, something you’d refuse to do in front of him. The way Eris had watched your eyes drift off into some far away thought and had your eyes snap back into focus, on him. Azriel had your embrace in moments of panic, a comfort and a quiet that you floated towards. A solace and hiding place you looked for. You never seemed to grow tired of him the way you grew tired of others. Azriel would have you for lifetimes and Eris didn’t want to be a footnote in that story.

“I just need time to think.” That was all he could think to say before finally pulling a shirt over his head. And turning away from you. 

“I’m scared of what that means.” 

He shook his head. He couldn’t look back at you. One right word from you and he’d cave. He’d give you anything you wanted no matter what it did to him. Your voice hit him again, like a bullet, 

“I’m scared it’s going to take you years to think, and figure it out, and I’m scared of what it’ll do to me.” 

He pulled his pants on and sat down to lace his shoes. Still refusing to look at you as he said the first thing that came to mind, 

“Well you always have Az to wash away whatever guilt you're feeling. I said it before. I’m done, so why don’t you go cry to him?” 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw your jaw set. The small nod of your head. It was the wrong thing to say. But he was begging you to prove him right. Begging you to do something to prove to him that he wasn’t what you wanted. 

You felt weak. Like your knees were about to buckle. Like every horrible thing you ever thought about yourself was right. It didn’t matter how much you cared about him, you never were able to find a way to make that clear. Could never just say it. Could never really figure it out. But he was right and that was the worst part. You fled from the locker room as quickly as you could while still holding onto a shred of dignity. The tears you had choked down rising like a violent tide. Tearing through your every nerve. Your whole body felt like it was burning, like the loss of him might actually consume you. Alone again. You couldn’t stand it. 

★ ★ ★ 

You shouldn’t have done it. But you weren’t thinking, completely on autopilot as you drove, as you walked up the steps, as your arm raised and knocked on the door. Your eyes still glistening, your cheeks red, and your body shaking lightly as the door opened slowly. 

Azriel. 

His eyes flashed with confusion, his hand going to run through his hair before leaning against the door frame as he took you in. Your jacket is gone. His jersey hanging off you. You looked wrecked. Terrified. So clearly the conversation with Eris didn’t work out and here you were. Like you always were when you lost something. 

“Is Cass home?” 

Your voice was shredded. Hoarse and devastated. The mask of cool collection you usually aimed for completely lost now. He shook his head slowly as he pulled the door slightly more ajar. 

“You want to talk?” 

You sniffled and curled your arms around yourself, “No. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to think.” 

“So…What do you want?” 

He knew exactly what you wanted. He just needed to hear it straight from your bitten red and raw lips. 

“I don’t want to be alone.” 

A whisper. A small admission. Almost a question. 

He held out an arm and you pulled yourself into his embrace too easily. Your arms immediately circling around his neck. He leaned down to pull your legs around his waist and carried you across the threshold. Closing the door behind him. His fingers bruising against your thighs. Like he wanted his fingerprints embedded in your skin forever. His lips never leaving yours as he walked towards his room. As he lowered you to his bed. Only pulling away to peel your clothes off slowly. To press open mouthed kisses against your neck as he let his hands roam. His pace slow and deliberate, as if every small claim of his lips was a victory. 

It was. A small victory. He’d have you for lifetimes, maybe only like this, when he was needed to fill some emptiness inside you. But still. Others would have you for minutes at a time that in their lifespan would boil down to nothing. But he’d have you forever. A small form of revenge. 

He traced every path he thought Eris might have once marked as his own. Neither of you saying a word. Both of you ignoring the tears streaming down your face. Azriel only pausing once to wipe them away with a brief brush of his thumbs and soft shushing from his lips, before he sank his teeth into the crook of your neck. The force behind it bruising and almost angry. Like he wanted it to hurt. Like he wanted you to remember that feeling in the morning. Like he wanted you to remember that other men would have your adhd driven drifts of attention, your accolades and commendation. Your fantasies and broken form of love tainted remedies to draw out seconds on a timesheet. Your short term hyperfocus. Your false forms of naive intimacies. Your fleeting fingers through their hair when they bend their heads to you. Your anger when they don’t live up to the image you’ve built in your head. 

You closed your eyes. Letting him take the lead. You didn’t want to think. Didn’t want to do anything, but feel him. Because that was the easiest thing you could possibly do. The easiest way to not be alone. 

Azriel reveled in it. Your attention when convenient. Your gaze when you thought he was too lost in his movements against you. The way he could still feel your anger from earlier bubbling under the surface, and the way that it didn’t matter now. The way that you had still come to him. The way that he was always right. The way that the little jersey stunt had worked exactly in his favor. The way he always managed to do exactly what you wanted. The way your nails raked across his shoulder blades and you let out a choked sob. 

He’d let you right to it. Something to be angry about again. The one thing you wanted. The one thing you never wanted Eris to see. The one real thing you were. Angry and afraid. Afraid of everything you had ever felt. 

A small form of revenge. 

He held you close to his chest after. He knew you’d leave. Just like you had done before. Just like you did every time something too intimate, no matter what the scale, happened between the two of you. You didn’t move. You didn’t speak. You’d stopped crying, but by the way you were breathing he knew you still wanted to. So he held you tighter. 

★ ★ ★

You left while he was still asleep. Seven in the morning. Guilt rippling through your entire body. Eris expected the worst from you, so you did the worst thing you could think of, and it felt good. That was the worst part. You closed Azriel’s door as quietly as you could and turned around, immediately met with Cassian’s hulking form leaning against the wall of the hallways. His arms crossed and his eyebrow raised. Your eyes widened. Since when has he ever woken up this early? 

“Again?” 

You didn’t respond. Heading for the door shaking your head. He stepped in front of you, blocking your exit. 

“Why?” 

His voice was a whisper, but the question hit like he was shouting. 

“I didn’t know what else to do.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him as you said it. 

“You look like you just had a death in the family or something. That’s not how you should look after hooking up with someone. This is…this fucking sadness that you get from Eris….Even Az can’t fix that.” 

You look at him now. He was wrong. Of course he wanted to blame Eris. Why wouldn’t he? 

“It’s not Eris that made me….” 

You trailed off and Cassian inhaled deeply. Finally getting it. Whatever you and Azriel had going on…hurt you just as much as it hurt him. A mutual form of self destruction. 

“So why did you do it?” 

Azriel’s door opened now. You didn’t hear it. Didn’t notice that Azriel had finally woken up and was watching intently as you responded, 

“Because Azriel….” You push Cassian out of the way and reach for the door, “Eris makes me weak.” 

You close the door behind you and Cassian flinches at the sound of it clicking shut. His eyes looking towards his friend now. Azriel looked like he’d seen a ghost. Eris makes me weak. The only way you could think to say that you were in love with him. The only way you could find to express that the feeling scared you so deeply that you went back to something you, and everyone else, had so adamantly ignored for years. It was almost like falling in love with Azriel and wasting it had turned you into something cold. Something accidentally cruel. 

Cassian sighed and shook his head. The disappointment coming off him in waves. Azriel unsure which one of them that disappointment was really directed at. Cassian watched him, he looked small, and unlike himself. He thought of the years Az had spent chasing whatever had happened between the two of you that one night. Like he was so desperate to prove that he was capable of love. Like having you in any small form would make him better at it, like doing whatever he could to keep you away from other people, and bring you back to him. Would prove that he could love someone. Like letting you in last night and fucking you while you cried was a testament to how much he was willing to ignore. Maybe that was what he thought love was. Ignoring all the bad and taking you anyways, under any condition, nevermind who your heart really called for. 

“You’re just a glutton for punishment aren’t you Az?” 

That was all Cassian said as he turned back to his room and shut the door sharply behind him. Leaving Azriel to stand alone in the morning shadow soaked hall. 

★ ★ ★

Eris’ apartment felt empty. Without your laughter. Without you sitting at his kitchen counter biting your nails and complaining about whatever class was pissing you off at the moment. 

He sat alone in his living room. Your sweater still draped over the back of the chair he crashed into. His eyes falling on the plants you had lined up against his windowsill while muttering something about lifeless male living spaces. The notes you had written him stuck to his fridge. The books you had left scattered across his coffee table. The pair of shoes you placed next to his by the door, shrugging, and saying it’s good to have a spare. Almost every inch of his apartment screamed your name, and begged for your return. 

He remembered the ice in your stare as he told you to run back to Azriel. The kind of cold he could never warm. The set determination of your walk as you strode away from him. He knew exactly where you were right now. He knew that you had done exactly what you told him to, and he couldn’t even find it in himself to blame you. He should have just talked to you. Should have made it clear to you that he wanted everything. That he was all in. That he didn’t care about the fact that you were scared, he could see it clear as day. He’d seen it since you started seeing each other. The way that you were so terrified that the second you admitted how much he meant to you, he’d leave. 

It wasn’t like you made your affections a secret. You had decorated his apartment. You had spent all of your free time with him. You had held him so tight at night that sometimes he wondered if you thought that if you let go he’d slip away, or fade away. You had given him annotated book’s, highlighting lines you thought he might like. Had sent him playlists and pictures of things throughout the day that reminded you of him. Had wrapped your arms around him lazily and pulled him away from his computer whispering you have to stop being such a workaholic. The closest you let yourself get to exhibiting how much you worried about him. You had made it as clear as you could. 

But he could’t wipe the image of Azriel’s smirk as you had yelled at him what the fuck is wrong with you? Like your outburst was some sort of victory. Like shadowsinger had won. Like getting Eris to fight him was exactly what he had hoped for.

He remembered the way that Azriel went slack under him as they fought, the way he had let Eris throw punch after punch and seemed almost elated as blood spilled from his mouth. Like the blood would stain your hands and force you into remembering what and who really mattered. And maybe it had. 

Eris sighed and stood from his chair. Sleep. He needed sleep. But when he laid eyes on his bed, the sheets rumpled and blankets a mess. He thought of you that morning. Refusing to wake up, quietly calling for him to come back to bed, telling him to stop answering emails and come kiss you awake. The way he’d obliged and reveled in your warmth, and your smell, and the soft graze your fingers across his skin. He should have stopped you from leaving. 

I’m scared it’s going to take you years to think, and figure it out, and I’m scared of what it’ll do to me.

He should have told you. I love you too much. But he didn’t and now he’d have to suffer the consequences. Maybe that was what he deserved. Maybe he thought, this is what happens when he let himself fall in love with someone. When he let his walls down. When he let someone into his space. 

taglist:

@tiredsleepyhead @rosewood-cafe @kristijenner19 @becstersworld @girlwhoreadseverywhere @iambored24601

@the-sylver-dragon @scarsandallaz @fairydustblossom 

@theflowerswillbloom 

@theflowerswillbloom @melsunshine @mad-katsuki @lilylilyyyyyy @blueeeeeshark

@redr0sewrites

[fairydustblossom]

the first sign of fall chapter three: it's hot when you have a meltdown

college au, the inner circle boys and the reader are bartenders, and also they play hockey in this one.

pairings - eris vanserra x reader, a teensy bit of azriel x reader

summary - all of your friends know about you and eris but refuse to speak on it. as the first hockey game of the season comes, so does the drama.

word count - 4.7k

a/n - this one is a long one...apologies. but i liveeeee for the drama and the constant lack of communication amongst these three. eris is fucking trying though.

You sat in Cassian and Azriel’s apartment. All of you had gathered to study, though it really seemed like you were the only one doing homework other than Amren. Mor’s book was open in front of her, but she was painting her nails that glimmering shade of red she was so fond of.  Rhys, Cass, and Az were all zeroed in on the TV watching old film reels of their last hockey game. Tomorrow was game day. The Velaris Devils vs the Autumn Court Smokehounds. You had been trying not to think about it and failing. 

“You’re a fucking idiot. What were you even trying to do with that move, Rhys?” 

Cassian pointed at the television and looked at his Rhys with a frustrated expression. Rhys shrugged and muttered something about being experimental. Mor chuckled from her seat and shot the boys a look while shaking her head. 

“You’re coming tomorrow right?” Cassian's voice was now directed at you. You shifted in your seat, chewing the end of your pen, and slowly raising your head to face all three teammates currently staring at you. Your whole friend group knew now…about Eris, but none of them mentioned anything. They all chose to stick with pointed silence. A new tactic, but it grated your nerves all the same. You took a deep breath. 

“Uhm. Yeah I guess.” 

Something soft and large hit you. You picked it up. Azriel’s jersey. Looking at him you arched a brow in question. He shrugged and just mumbled, 

“You’ve been wearing it every game since freshman year. It’s tradition.” 

Mor and Cassian exchanged glances after looking between you and Azriel. Both of them noted the small statement it made. Both of them knowing you’d wear it for traditions sake, not thinking about what it would do to Eris. Both of them knowing that what it would do to Eris, was the exact reason that Azriel offered up the idea in the first place. You nodded, tucking the shirt into your bag before flinging it over your shoulder and standing up. Rhys watched you gather your things and pick up your jacket, 

“You’re leaving?”

You nod and look around the room. At the complete lack of work being done, “I actually have work to do and you three yelling about hockey is…believe it or not…not that a productive study environment for me.” 

He shook his head, full of mock disappointment, “How can you focus on math when the first game of the season is tomorrow?” 

“Well Rhysand…Some of us are on scholarship.” 

He pursed his lips like that. No witty response coming to him now. Cassian frowned and shoved a handful of pretzels in his mouth before speaking, 

“You’re not on scholarship”

You roll your eyes at him, “You don’t know that.” 

“Yeah I do. You’re not on scholarship you’re just anal about grades.” 

You flip him off before heading towards the door. Azriel reached an arm out and caught your wrist as you passed by him. His voice was low as he asked, 

“I’ll see you at the game?” 

You offer him a small smile and nod. You’d see him at the game….you’d also see Eris at the game…playing against each other.  And that thought alone was giving you a headache. 

★ ★ ★ 

You had tucked yourself into a window booth in a coffee shop on campus. It was drizzling outside, red and yellow leaves staining the sidewalk, the streetlights had just come on. Lighting the whole road golden. This was why autumn was your favorite season. It was like he was in the very air around you, every color, every smell. You shook your head. Trying to get Eris out of your head. 

Lucien slid into the seat across from you. His hair slightly wavy and braids ran throughout it, he pushed it over his shoulder as he leaned against the table. You looked up quickly, mistaking the red hair and the tall, broad shouldered, frame for someone else. He saw it in your eyes and cocked his head with a small smirk, 

“You know how I’ve been trying to get you to go out with me for like the last three years?” 

You stop tapping your pen against the wooden table beneath your arm, and stare at him blankly, waiting for him to continue, 

“Imagine my devastation upon finding out you’ve been seeing my brother for the last month.” 

You shake your head and offer him a small smile, “Lucien you have never asked me out seriously.” 

“What the hell did Eris do?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Lucien watched as you shifted in your chair, the smile spreading across your face along with a light blush. He narrowed his eyes at you, he knew exactly what Eris had done to get this whole ball rolling. He had found you at a party, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, leaned in close, and did that stare he always did. The whole routine ended with the two of you talking for a while, laughing and trading light hearted insults, before he cocked his head towards the door and offered you a ride home. It always seemed to work for him. The fact that it had worked on you surprised Lucien a little bit. Although…It wasn’t every day that Eris offered a girl a ride home. It wasn’t everyday that Eris didn’t just hook up with a girl at the party before promptly leaving and not really talking to her again. But from the jump his brother had wanted you in his house…in his space. 

“So if I started acting like a cocky asshole would you give me a kiss too?” 

“Started?” 

Lucien clicked his tongue at your remark before pulling your coffee cup towards him and taking a sip. He nodded towards you, 

“You going to the game tomorrow?”

“Why do you care? Mr. I joined the frisbee team specifically to piss off my dad.” 

Lucien chuckled. Remembering how angry his father had been when he announced at family dinner that he had not gotten onto the hockey team like Eris, but that he instead had gone out of his way to play competitive frisbee in the park every weekend. 

“I don’t care. A certain admirer was hoping you'd be there to cheer him on…or are you two still pretending that nobody knows what’s going on between you?” 

Lucien pointed a finger, accusatory at you, with a teasing smile. You flip a page of your notebook absentmindedly. Why was it that you could never find a spot to do your homework in peace. Never. You sigh, 

“Yeah I’m going. I always go. For my friends.” 

Lucien nodded slowly, musing on the friend's comment, “Right. Because that’s not going to get messy.” 

“What are you implying?” 

“Are you going to pretend that the tension with Azriel and Eris isn’t going to be fucking palpable to anyone with half a braincell?” 

You ignored that comment. Choosing to zero in on your homework once more. Your eyes switched between your notes and the notes Eris had given you. There were perks to him being a year older than you, he had class note’s for most of the classes you happened to be taking this year. Lucien gave you a quick once over, before pulling a book out of his back pocket and leaning back in his chair. Deciding to sit with you for a little while. 

As the silence stretched on, the music of the cafe humming softly in the background, the scratch of your pen against paper insistent. Lucien found himself studying you. Your deliberate avoidance of anything in the past with your so-called friend. He couldn’t stop himself from being nosy. 

“Do you guys never talk about what happened two years ago?” 

Your eyes snapped to him. Alarmed. No you did not talk about it. 

Two years ago. When something in your dynamic with Azriel shifted…forever. 

You were upset. You had gotten too drunk and like always he seemed to be there. The first person to find you when you were upset. The only person who’s comfort ever seemed to actually matter. His quiet solace, exactly what you wanted when you were inebriated and distressed. You remembered the way you leaned into his hug. The way you looked up at him and without thinking kissed him full force. The way he responded immediately. The way he had pulled you into his room….

The way the next morning you had dressed as quietly as you could and snuck out before he could wake up. The way the two of you never talked about it. Both of you hoping the other was too drunk to really remember what actually happened. Your friendship went on like nothing was different. All your friends knew. No one talked about it. 

Your voice was clipped when you responded, “No we don’t.” 

Lucien let it drop. Deciding maybe it was better not to push it. Maybe it was better to let it stay forgotten. 

★ ★ ★ 

Eris had one hand against the counter. Leaning on it as he pushed a wooden spoon around in a pot. You watch from your stool. Your eyes rake over him, hair mussed and his sweater a little baggy, a thread at the cuff of his sleeve coming loose. 

“Are you sure you can cook?” 

He didn’t turn to look at you, his focus entirely on the stove in front of him, “Why do you have no faith in me?” 

You chuckle quietly, “I have faith…in most aspects of you.” 

He started to plate whatever it is that he had made, still using his body to block it from your sightline. Finally he turned around and placed a bowl in front of you, moving to sit next to you at the kitchen island, 

“Pasta is kind of hard to mess up.” He stated before kissing your temple and pointedly looking at your food, waiting for you to try it. You took a bite and nodded slowly, making a mockingly concerned face as you did. He raised his hands in defense, 

“Okay it is not that bad, come on.” You giggled and shook your head, giving in, admitting it was good silently. He nodded his victory and nudged your elbow with his own. You ate in silence for a couple minutes. Taking in each other's company. Every now and then his hand would trace down your back, or through your hair, the small touches an ever present comfort. His apartment littered with your things. Your books on the coffee table in the living room. Your toothbrush in a cup on his bathroom sink. 

He brushed your hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear, so he could see your face. 

“You coming to the game tomorrow?” 

You pause before nodding slowly. A small smile grew across his fox like features, 

“So..You gonna sit on the smoke hounds side?” 

“You know…I have made prior seating arrangements.” 

He nodded slowly. You were going to sit on the Velaris side. Of course you were. That’s your school and your friends played for the team. Of course you were. He didn’t know why he hoped that you would sit and support him. Didn’t know why he thought you’d choose him over your friends. Maybe because you were sitting in his kitchen tonight instead of going out with Mor and Cassian. Maybe it was because you had been sleeping in his bed for the last couple weeks, seemingly unable to sleep comfortably without him. 

You studied his face. Watched as the disappointment hit him and he quickly covered it with a slight nod and a raise of his eyebrows, looking back at his dinner. You take a deep breath, 

“But…I’ll be rooting for you” You lean to kiss him, “And I’ll be here to celebrate your win afterwards.” 

He grinned at the idea that you thought he would win. That he’d beat your friends. But then he thought about your statement. I’ll be here to celebrate your win afterwards. Here. In his apartment. His brows furrowed, 

“Why don’t we ever go out?” 

“What like a date?” 

He nodded as if it was obvious. You smile and a crease in your brows start to furrow. 

“Eris you don’t date anyone.” 

“I date.” His tone was defensive and he straightened his shoulders to better look at you. 

“Eris. You allow girls to accompany you to parties. You don’t date.” 

He thought about the two of you. In the last couple weeks. What are we doing then? He wondered to himself. What was this if not dating? Why did you think he made himself so available to you? Why did you think he managed to find you throughout the day without even asking, caring enough to know your favorite spots and your schedule. Why did you think that he spoke to you so gently and craved your touch so constantly. Why did you think that he wanted you to sleep in his bed and nothing else, if not because he liked you. He sucked in a breath. Steeling his nerves. 

“Well, if I win…You owe me a date. A real one. You have to let me take you to the bar with the team.” He took your hand in his as he looked at you, “To celebrate.” 

A slow smile creeped across your face. He wanted you to go out with him. With his friends. You nod. A silent acceptance. Swallowing the guilt in your throat as you did so. The guilt that you had to show up tomorrow in a jersey that wasn’t his. Sit on a side that wasn’t his. But you had to support your friends. There had to be a way to do both.  

★ ★ ★ 

You slide into the arena with no notice. Pulling your jacket tight around you. Your eyes searching for a familiar face. None were in sight. Mor wasn’t here yet. You thought about going into the stands and taking your seat, but instead opted to hurry down the hall towards the locker rooms. The smoke hounds were leaving their locker room as you passed. A couple of the Vanserra brothers eyed you, one of them shooting a high pitched whistle your way and yelling, 

“Your boyfriends in there.” 

You roll your eyes and keep walking, quickly, and duck past the door. Letting it slam closed behind you. Eris was sitting on a bench. Not yet dressed, a towel slung across his hips. 

“Shouldn’t you be with the team for warm ups?” He raised his head at the sound of your voice, standing up to take a couple strides towards you. His arms came up to cage you against a locker and an annoyingly smug smile graced his face. 

“I was waiting to see if you might come to wish me luck.” His hand came down to slowly pull off your jacket and his eyes fell to the name across your shirt. SHADOWSINGER. His brows furrowed and he stared silently at it. 

“It’s not…I wear it the first game of every season…like tradition or something.” You tried to explain. Thinking he might understand the athlete rituals or whatever they were. The good luck charms. He pursed his lips and chose not to say anything. Instead his fingers toyed with the bottom of the jersey and he slowly pulled it off of you, before capturing your lips with his. You let your fingers slide up his arms, across his bare shoulders, and into the hair at the nape of his neck, as he lifted your legs to wrap around his waist. 

★ ★ ★ 

Mor studies the way you shift slightly in your seat, like you just can’t quite get comfortable. Amren sits next to you, not paying attention to the game at all, eyes glued to whatever complicated book in a foreign language she had started. Mor watches as you run your fingers through your hair, as if paranoid that it looks a mess. It doesn’t. Her eyes narrow as she watches the way you track Eris Vanserra move across the ice. 

“So are we ever going to talk about it?” 

“Talk about what Mor?” 

“You and Eris Vanserra.” 

You sigh, eyes not leaving the game playing out in front of you, “What do you want to say?” 

“Are you sure that it’s a good idea?” 

“Yeah I think I am.” 

She continues staring at you until you finally slump your shoulders and turn to her. You look her up and down, take in her crossed arms and her doubt laced expression. 

“Mor he’s…he’s sweet to me.” 

“Eris Vanserra doesn’t date people though. He fucks around and doesn’t care about the consequences.” 

“This is different. He wants-” 

She raised a hand to cut you off, “What does he want? What exactly is it that he told you he wants?” 

“Morrigan just leave it. She trusts him and there’s nothing we can do.” Amren mumbled from beside you, drawing your attention. 

You scowl at her tone, bored and slightly disbelieving her own words, and turn away from her. Your eyes falling to where he stands on the ice. Those russet eyes meeting yours with a wink before he takes off down the rink. You turn back to her with a small smile, 

“He wants me. Like really wants me and makes that clear. Not everyone does that.” You give her a pointed look as you say it. A look that told her to drop it. A look that said don’t bring up anyone else. I know who you want to compare him to, don’t. She holds your stare and relents. Uncrossing her arms and nodding. Maybe you were right. He did seem to follow you around like a puppy, as if no one else could see the way he trailed a couple feet behind you at parties, or the way he left minutes after you did. She offers you a small smile, laced with a little concern, but warm nonetheless.

You both whip your heads back towards the ice at the sound of a crash. A collision. Shouts echoed through the arena, a mix of booing, heckling, and cheering on the brawl now taking place on the ice. Your eyes scan the fight, trying desperately to see who it is, but you already know. Before you can even see the names on the backs of the jerseys you already know exactly who’s locked horns. 

★ ★ ★ 

Azriel saw him out of the corner of his eye, before the impact came. Knew it was going to happen, but didn’t have time to brace himself for it. Eris Vanserra blocked his pass to Cassian by slamming his entire body weight into him. Azriel hit the ground with a thud and a rattle of hockey sticks. His helmet damn near cracking ice with the sheer force of the fall. Eris standing above him a smirk playing on his lips, the auburn hair pressed to his forehead with sweat, his shoulders rising in a half hearted shrug as he started to skate away. 

Azriel scrambled to his feet, whipping his helmet off and shouting, “WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?” 

Eris turned towards him now, pausing his retreat to purse his lips as if he was thinking and shrugging once more, “I don’t have a problem man. Just doing my job.” 

Azriel wanted to punch the smirk off his face. He squared his shoulders, trying to regulate his breathing, trying to stop himself from launching at the opposing team’s player. He didn’t miss the way Eris’ eyes flitted towards the stands. Azriel looked over his shoulder, to where you and Mor were sitting, the conversation you were having seemed a little heated. Your back turned just enough to see his name splayed across your shirt. His eyebrows raised in understanding and he let out a low laugh, just loud enough for Eris to hear, 

“Oh…You're mad that your girls got my name across her back.” 

Eris’ jaw set. His eyes steeled. A flash of anger, before that swaggering indifference came back and he pulled off his helmet, “You know I was mad about it. But uh..I’m not too upset anymore.

Azriel skated a little towards him as he whispered, “And why is that?” He was baiting him. Azriel knew that. He knew that he shouldn’t ask, knew that the answer to it would only fuel his anger. 

“Well, when I fucked her in that jersey, minutes before the game started…your name was the last thing she was thinking about.” 

The grin on Eris’ face was that last thing Azriel saw before he snapped. Launching himself towards Vanserra, his fist hitting the side of the man's face, both of them falling to the ground. He could have sworn he heard Eris laugh as his fist hit home again. Drawing blood. Both men tustling on the ground, fists flying, the crowd roaring. Eris topped him easily, almost too easily, like Azriel didn’t want to win. But he didn’t care as long as he got to punch the raven haired man underneath him until he was bruised and bloody. 

Cassian rushed towards his friend. Cursing under his breath as he threw himself into the brawl, pulling Azriel from under Eris and restraining him. Rhys at his side, holding Azriel’s other arm. The three players looked at Eris, still grinning, blood dripping from his hairline, and his mouth. He shakes his sweat drenched hair, tongue wagging as he watched Azriel get pulled away by his friends. 

Both of them were taken out of the game. Benched for the remainder. 

★ ★ ★ 

You raced down the hallway towards the locker rooms as soon as the game was over. Not sure entirely who you wanted to check on first. Mor was close at your heels. Amren had excused herself to drive to the bar stating that she needed a drink before she could deal with any drama. 

When you rounded the corner you were met with Eris and Azriel, already at each other's throats. Cassian standing a couple feet away, waiting for it to get bad enough to intervene. Azriel snarling something that you couldn’t quite make out and Eris meeting it with some lazy insult and a smug smirk. You took in his appearance, his blood stained hair and his busted lip, concern shot like lightning through your bloodstream. You shot your words at the eldest Vanserra first, 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He turned towards you, as did Azriel. 

“With me? He hit me first?” 

“And then you pummeled him into the fucking ground and got yourself hurt in the fucking process!” 

Azriel had moved slightly to stand behind you. Eris took in the sight. You fuming with frustration and Azriel towering behind you like some sort of guard dog. He scoffed and spat a mouthful of blood into the ground, 

“Typical.” He shook his head before turning away. He started to walk towards the locker room, before pausing and looking over his shoulder, “Can you really not see what he’s doing? What giving you that fucking shirt was supposed to do? You think he didn’t do that on purpose? To spread some seed of doubt? To make you choose, knowing damn well you’d choose your friend. Are you that blind?” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Eris nodded shortly before letting out a humorless, breathy laugh, and pushing through the locker room door with one final comment, “I can’t do this. I’m done.” 

“What does that mean?” You called after him. But the door closed behind him and he didn’t bother responding. You stared at the closed door as if he might come back out, as if he might change his mind. Hoping that he would. Hoping he didn’t mean it. A minute went by….and nothing. 

You rounded on Azriel now,

“Is that true?” You crossed your arms over your chest, “Did you do that on purpose?” 

He shrugged, not meeting your eyes, “I don’t know what youre talking about.” 

Your eyes widened and you sucked your teeth in annoyance, “You don't?” 

Every single time you liked someone. Every single time someone liked you. Something went wrong. Your friends managed to convince you they weren’t good enough, or scare them away if that didn’t work. Every single conversation about what you deserved, the way their eyes would flit to Azriel. 

He stood silent in front of you. His expression stony and unyielding, so you continued,

“Why did you want me to wear this then?” You fisted the shirt wrapped around you. Brandishing it towards him to the best of your ability. He frowned and looked you up and down. 

You looked good. Angry, hair falling in front of your face. Stance defensive like you were ready for a fight yourself. Your eyes glittering as tears seemed to prick them incessantly. You looked good. It was all he could think as your question rang through his ears. He tried to think of a response. Something that would sound good, something that would release him of guilt, but he couldn’t. 

“You look good.”

His answer was short, and blunt, and lacking the tells of any lie. You laughed now. Tears threatening to spill. You shook your head quickly. Sniffling, trying to staunch the tears. 

“Well…you did what you do best. You ruined another fucking thing for me. Are you proud?” 

No response. 

“Are you happy now?” 

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. Hot, angry tears rolled down your cheeks. You held your expression still. Letting them fall silently. Refusing to sob. Refusing to give him the satisfaction. Refusing to let him step towards you to wrap you in a hug and release himself of any responsibility with the excuse of comfort. 

He took an uneasy step towards you, reaching out for you. Cassian cleared his throat and Azriel stopped in his tracks. Recognizing the sound as a warning. He sighed and let his arm fall back to his side. 

“I’m sorry” It was all he could think to say. He didn’t feel sorry. He knew he should but he couldn't muster up the feeling. He knew exactly what he was doing. Knew that the jersey would make a problem, knew that Eris would pick a fight. Knew that your concern would fester into an anger and cause you to lash out, it always did. 

You looked at him, incredulous, mouth agape, “You’re sorry?” 

Your tone made him straighten, bristle even. “He wasn’t right for you. If this was all it took to shake him.” 

“And who is right for me?” You were seething. Your words dripping with venom, stained with tears, “You?” 

You?

It hit Azriel hard. Cassian took a step towards the pair of you before Mor’s hand fell to his arm, halting his movement. Slightly shaking her head as if saying they need to have it out. 

“Well you didn’t seem to think so.” Azriel’s voice was cool and quiet. Like the first fall of snow before the storm. 

“What exactly do you mean by that?” 

You knew exactly what he meant. That he was referencing that night two years ago. The way you had left before the sun rose. The way you had never spoken about it again. The way you had let it simmer all these years.

And then the storm hit. Icy and raging. His voice dark like he’d never even known that the sun could shine. 

“You left…You want to talk about ruining things? Then tell me why.” 

You stared at each other. A silent battle of will. Mor and Cassian standing tense from their position a few feet away. Waiting for you to strike back. Waiting for some ending statement. Some final hurt laced come back. But nothing came, and the teams started to stream out of the locker rooms. Breaking the rigid silence. 

You turned away from your friends. I can't, I'm done. You weren’t going to let that be the end. You pushed your way through the Autumn Court team exiting the locker room. 

Azriel watched you go. His heart pounding. Bringing up that night two years ago was a bad idea. He shouldn’t have done it. Shouldn't have pushed it. It did more harm than good. He felt Cassian’s hand on his shoulder, pulling him away from the hallway. His silence speaking volumes. When Cassian couldn’t find anything to say, Azriel knew he really fucked it. Not even Mor would look at him as she walked away, probably going to join Amren. 

taglist :

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@the-sylver-dragon @scarsandallaz @fairydustblossom 

@theflowerswillbloom 

@theflowerswillbloom @melsunshine @mad-katsuki @lilylilyyyyy @blueeeeeshark

[fairydustblossom]

the first sign of fall chapter two: a small form of revenge

college au, the inner circle boys and the reader are bartenders.

pairings - eris vanserra x reader, a teensy bit of azriel x reader

summary - you try to keep your thing with eris a secret, but it's alot harder when he seems to go out of his way to bother azriel. all your friends seem to pick up exactly what's going on at the same time.

word count - 2.9k

a/n - i love it when...three people have weird complicated feelings about and for each other that they won't ever really communicate. and when they don't even know why they feel like that. azriel in this series is so....he hates to see other people with who he wants...but also just....is he ever gonna say anything? no.

“So is he ugly or something?” 

You shook your head at Mor’s question. She had been trying to get you to tell her who you’ve been sneaking off to go see for the last several minutes. She narrowed her eyes at you and pushed a strand of hair out of her face before pushing further, 

“Well…I don’t see why you won’t tell me who he is then.” 

Your lips remained shut. Eyes sparkling with amusement at your friend’s frustration. The two of you had been sitting at the bar for the last couple hours. Neither of you working. Mor steadily ignoring the few people scattered around the restaurant, leaving Feyre as the only actually working server. Azriel and Cassian stood behind the bar, half listening to the girl’s conversation. Cassian turned to look at them at Mor’s last words, 

“She won’t tell me either.” 

Mor made a face somewhere between I’m not surprised and you’re an idiot. 

“Why would she tell you? You’ve got a big mouth.” 

Cassian huffed in indignation, “And you don’t Morrigan?” 

She tossed her hair over her shoulder as if she was brushing away his insulting question, “I don’t spread gossip..unless I know it’s a fact and not just gossip.” 

Azriel snorted at this and finally joined the conversation, “Just leave it be. Let her have her secrets.” 

You look to him and raise your eyebrows, a little surprised at his seeming lack of interest. He usually wanted to know just as much of the rest of them. To be fair you usually caved and told them by now. 

“Thanks Az” You smiled at him and he gave you a short once over, a brief nod, and muttered, 

“You have a leaf in your hair” before turning around and going back to cleaning the bottles lining the back of the bar. You frown and pull the red leaf from you hair, turning it over in your fingers. A gust of wind flowed through the door as it was pushed open. Eris and a couple of his brothers strode past, he glanced at you quickly as he walked towards a booth nestled into the corner of the bar. Mor groaned at the new customers and hung her head, 

“I don’t want to serve them.” 

Cassian gave her a sarcastic pout and teased, “Aw it must be so hard to do your job” 

“Shut up bathroom boy.” Mor grumbled as she got to her feet and pulled her order pad from her apron. Cassian made a disgusted face and replied, 

“Oh for the love of god…I do not want that nickname to catch on.” 

Mor gave him a mock sympathetic look and turned back to you, “I still think he must be ugly.” 

Your eyes wandered to the corner booth and locked with Eris’s. A small, almost unnoticeable blush spread across your cheeks at the heat in his gaze. A simmering fire behind his eyes that just never seemed to burn out. He shot you a small smile and inclined his chin as a sort of hello. His navy jacket and his burgundy sweater making his skin look like freshly fallen snow and his hair burn brighter. 

“He’s not ugly.” You say to Mor as your eyes return to her. She rolled her eyes and turned on her heel, stomping away to do her job. You laugh as you watch her go, and get up, walking back behind the bar, to do your own job. 

You pull the towel from Azriel’s hands and start to clean the bottles he had been wiping down. He shoots you a short look, something unreadable in his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. The two of you work in silence, the most efficient when you do something together. Neither of you need to talk to be able to move in sync, like a well oiled machine. You let yourself fall into the rhythm. You wipe a bottle down, he places it where it needs to go, and hands you another, and repeat. 

★ ★ ★ 

Eris watched you move in perfect unison with Azriel. He watched with narrowed eyes as his fingers would lightly brugh yours with every pass of a bottle. The soft smile on your face as Azriel muttered something under his breath. 

He had spent years trying to get your attention and he finally had it. But there was always Azriel. 

Azriel. like some sort of angel. Sparkling and quiet. Every part of him unknown. Every part of him calculated. Every part of him unreachable, untouchable, unfathomably worse for you. 

Azriel. The sheen of his black hair pitches a halo into your sightline. He’s just out of reach in a way Eris could never bring himself to be. Not with you. He just couldn’t stop himself from seeking you out, from waiting for your calls and the late nights you’d show up on his doorstep. He couldn’t stop himself from searching for you in every crowded room just for one shot to make brief eye contact. It was like the second he got a taste of you, he wanted that flavor to grace his lips at every constant moment. 

He set his jaw. Pushing himself out of his seat and walking briskly towards the counter. 

★ ★ ★ 

Knuckles wrap against the bar counter. Both of you turn towards the sound. Eris leaned against the counter and shot a smirk towards you before looking Azriel up and down, letting out a long whistle as he did so. 

“You know Az you look better every time I see you.” 

“What do you want?” It was Cassian that spat the words at him as he came to stand next to his brother behind the counter. 

Eris always did this. Whenever he’d come to your work, hed poke Azriel with the direct intent to get your friend to snap at him, but all he ever got was Az’s quiet annoyance or a short sigh. Especially since Eris’ favorite way to bother Azriel was to just vaguely hit on him. You’d be lying if you didn’t find it amusing, but you’d rather choke than admit that to the auburn haired man now grinning at you. 

“Well…A drink.” 

Eris said it while motioning towards the liquor bottles the two of you had just finished cleaning. Azriel stared at him blankly, waiting for him to actually order. 

“Whiskey neat.” 

You set a glass, already filled, in front of him. You knew his order. It was easy to remember, but Azriel looked at you with a raised eyebrow anyway. Eris wrapped a slender fingered hand around the glass you offered him. 

“Thanks baby” 

“Don’t call her that.” Finally he had managed to bother Azriel enough into speech. A tiny smile played at the corner of his mouth and he nodded shortly as he looked at you and offered you a half mocking bow, “Thank you…Ma’am.” 

He looked to Azriel now, “Better?” He asked before turning back in the direction of his booth and walking away. 

“Prick” Azriel muttered as he turned back around, starting to take his apron off. He folded it and tucked it under the counter before pulling a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and heading towards the door. 

Rhys had watched the entire interaction from a spot at the end of the counter. Had stopped drying cups to watch the whole thing. He had watched as Eris’ eyes never left you, as he slid from his booth, and interrupted your quiet steady work with Az. Watched as you hadn’t bothered to look at the redhead as he approached the bar, but still poured his drink and handed it over before Eris had even really finished asking for it. He had watched the small shift of your feet when Eris had called you baby, like it was familiar. Watched as Azriel got frustrated enough for a smoke break. His eyes met yours now and he furrowed his brows at you while you shook your head. It was like you were trying to tell him nope nope nope, that is not the guy, don’t even ask, youre not even close. Which to him meant that he had it right on the money. 

“You have got to be kidding me.” 

You grimaced at Rhysand’s realization. You had been doing such a good job of keeping your mouth shut, even managing to keep this one a secret for more than three weeks. Such a good job gone completely down the drain. 

“Please don’t tell anyone?” 

“I kind of don’t even want to.” 

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, “You’re not even going to give me a lecture?” 

Rhys shook his head and didn’t bother saying anything else. If he knew Eris…then he knew that he wouldn’t even have to get rid of him. Eris would fuck it up at some point, he had never been very good at keeping a girl before. Actually now that Rhys thought of it, he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Eris even out with a girl. He probably should have said something, to try and dissuade her from this, to try and protect her from whatever hurt he knew that Eris would cause down the line. But as he looked at her and saw her looking over towards that corner booth, locking eyes with Eris again. As he saw the look in the amber eyes and the way Eris smiled at her. He just couldn’t stomach trying to ruin it. A little bit of a good thing can sometimes outweigh the bad. 

★ ★ ★ 

Azriel paced back and forth in front of the door, hands in his pockets, cigarette dangling from his lips. 

The way you already knew Eris’ drink order before he could even finish asking for it. The way your eyes lingered on him as he walked away. The way Eris so casually referred to you. It was like the dim orange light of the evening darkened around Azriel as he thought about it. As he simmered in it. He felt something bitter twist through his stomach. Through his chest. Crawling around each rib and pulling. He watched as freshly fallen leaves fell into the puddle flooded street in front of him. The hues of the leaves colored darker by the seeping water. He hated fall. 

He ran a hand over his face, pressing his fingertips into his closed eyes, as of trying to claw the memory out of his sight. The horrible way you looked at the oldest of the Vanserra family, eyes glimmering with a fondness undeserving. There's something disgusting about the feeling it sparks in him. Something distasteful about the way he wishes that he could stand in another man's shoes. A lesser man's shoes. Azriel knows that he’ll know you more intimately than Eris ever will. He knows that you can’t quite trust the other man, and he knows that’s his downfall. Being there for you. Being close to you for as long as he had been. Being a comfort and a stable presence. Everything you need, but not was you look for. Not what you chase after. 

He thought back on the last couple weeks. Kicking himself for not noticing the way you would tuck yourself into a corner at parties and wait for the red haired man to sneak his way across the room to talk to you. He could hear your every laugh, nervous and faltered. Every smile you graced him with undeserved. Eris, not quite funny, but not quite dull. Is he funny or did you just want him to see you smile? Azriel could hear your laugh from across the floor as you followed him upstairs. He should have stopped it, should have done something. But he didn’t want to know, not for sure, that you were actually with someone. But that brief interaction you’d had moments ago…would crush him come closing. He wouldn’t say a word about it. 

He took a long drag from his cigarette before putting out on the sole of his boot. 

He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want you to tell him about whatever was going on. He didn’t want to listen to you recount your interactions with Eris word for word, didn’t want to let you repeat the same things you always said about whoever you were seeing. 

It’s different this time Az, I’m serious. 

So he decided he’d wait, for that endearment to simmer down like it always did. For you to get frustrated, bored with the chase. You hate to be bored, and having him will bore you. You’ll be so unhappy with the situation that it’ll make you happy. In some twisted sense the disfunction will give you something to look forward to. Knowing Eris will hurt you as much as you hurt him. Like some twisted dance. At least that’s how Azriel always viewed most of your flings. 

In the back of his mind he hopes it hurts. He hopes it hurts you. And He hopes it hurts him. And he hopes for a catastrophic end. Because he’ll still be there. Like a small form of revenge. He’d been there for as long as he could remember. 

“You look like you’re plotting” 

Azriel turned towards the door, snapping out of a trance almost. Cassian was leaned against the wall, arms crossed, an eyebrow raised. Az shook his head slightly as if to dismiss Cassian’s comment. Cassian let out a short laugh, 

“You know I’ve never understood why you don’t just tell her that you’re into her.” 

“It would do more harm than good.” 

Cassian watched his friend square his shoulders, and head back inside. 

★ ★ ★ 

You lay with your chin against Eris’ chest. Softly tracing your fingers over the scars stretching across his skin. Slowly connecting his freckles with an invisible line cast by your fingertips. Like your own personal constellation. His eyes were closed, hair falling over his face, his breathing even and deep. Almost like he was sleeping. You were content to let him pretend to rest. Content to bask in his warmth. To breathe in the honeyed smell that seemed to seep from him. The vanilla scent that laced it’s way through his sheets. 

You thought of the way Azriel had picked up on the way Eris spoke to you. The familiarity there. Thought of the way Rhys, ever observant had pieced together everything in his mind, his lips set in a thin line of disapproval. It was like the man under you could sense your nervousness. He shifted under you slightly, breathing in sharply and moving to tuck his arm under his head. Blinking at you slowly, 

“What’s going on?” 

You let out a hmm of acknowledgement and he tilted his head, 

“You’ve got thinking face on.”

“What does that mean?” 

He smiled, tired and lazy before reaching his free hand up to your face. Slowly running his thumb along the downturned corners of your lips, and the furrow of your brow. He smile grew wider as he watched your expression soften with every brush of his fingers. 

There was something about the way you let yourself relax into him that he couldn’t get enough of. He had never been someone’s peace before. He had never imagined that he would want to care for someone the way he cared for you. 

The way you held his gaze, unblinking and intense. He averted his eyes, worried that if he didn’t he’d say something stupid. Something rushed. So instead he opted for, 

“You gonna tell me what you’re thinking? Or just keep your secrets?” 

You huffed a little as you moved from on top of him, to nestle into his side, pressing your cheek to his chest now. His hand came up to rest in your hair, his fingers twirling through the strands of it. Like he wanted to get tangled in the slight curl of it. 

“I’m just thinking about my friends I guess.” 

You felt him stiffen beneath you, the movement almost unnoticeable. His voice was a little less relaxed when he responded, “What about them?” 

You closed your eyes, trying to inch closer to him, not that it was possible. There wasn’t an inch of you that wasn’t wrapped around him. 

“I just don’t think we should tell anyone.” 

He hoped you didn’t hear his heart beating. Hoped you couldn’t feel the way your words were like a punch to the gut, knocking all the breath from his lungs. He wrapped his arm tighter around you and kissed the top of your hair. Before mumbling, 

“That’s fine. I mean we’re keeping it casual…that was always the agreement right?” 

You nodded against him. Keeping it casual. Like this wasn’t the fourth night in a row you had spent at his place. Like you didn’t have your clothes littering the drawers of his dresser. Like he didn’t keep a couple things in the fridge that he knew you liked. We’re keeping it casual. Like you didn’t count down every minute you weren’t with him. 

As you drifted into sleep you thought about Azriel again. The flash of anger behind his eyes as he stormed out for his smoke break. The way Cassian had slid out to follow him. The way his mood was sour the rest of the shift. The way his silence seemed to draw the light from the very room. The way he barely said a word to you, like he was waiting for you to come to him. In what way…you didn’t want to know.

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[fairydustblossom]

the first sign of fall chapter one: not a chance

college au, the inner circle boys and the reader are bartenders.

pairings - eris vanserra x reader, platonic!cassian x reader.....a teensy bit of azriel x reader (crumbs of it more like)

summary - your best friend cassian tries to get you to tell him who exactly it is you've been hooking up with lately. you refuse to tell him (or any of your friends for that matter)...because you know he won't like the answer.

word count - 2.7k

a/n - i needed to write something about eris so bad. i am so in love with him. i love a content with being the bad guy, because at least he knows who he is, type character.

You wiped down bottles lazily. Eyes scanning the room for any incoming customers. Tucking the towel in your hand into your apron and lean against the bartop. You saw Rhysand walking towards you out of the corner of your eye. 

“Don’t even say it.” 

“What?” Rhys raised his hand in mock defense. 

“If you have time to lean, you have time to clean. I swear if you say that shit to me one more time I’ll kill myself.” 

Rhys chuckled, “You know it’s my job to keep the staff in line.” 

“Yeah then why does Cassian get to take seventeen bathroom breaks an hour? Because that seems out of line to me.” 

Cassian made a sound of disagreement from where he stood a couple feet away. He sauntered over and leaned extremely close, 

“You know you could join me for those bathroom breaks sometimes.” 

You laughed and hit him with the towel that had been tucked into your apron, “You fucking wish.” 

Rhys watched his friends, eyes glittering with amusement. He looked to Cassian and inquired, 

“You know now that I think about it…Why do you take so many bathroom breaks?” 

“He’s doing coke. I didn’t want to out you like this Cass, but I’m worried about you man.” 

Cassian punched your shoulder lightly and looked at Rhys as you giggled away, off to find something to clean. 

“I’m not doing coke.” 

Rhys raises an eyebrow. 

“I’m not!” 

None of them had noticed Azriel walking behind the bar, tying his apron around his waist, and chuckling quietly at his friend’s banter. As he passed Cassian and Rhys he mumbled, 

“He is. I think it’s time for an intervention.” 

Cassian raised his hands and let out a huff of frustration, “I am NOT doing coke guys.” 

You let out a hum of disbelief  and Azriel tapped your arm with his elbow in greeting.  

Mor swayed through the door, golden hair flowing behind her, boots clicking on the tiled floor. She looked at her friends who were all far from working, and clicked her tongue, 

“Glad to see you’re all hard at work.” She leaned on the bar and wrapped her knuckles against it, “Drink please” 

You snorted at her and leaned on the bar as she tilted her head, “What do you want Mor?” 

“Something fruity with too much tequila in it.” 

You nodded and started pulling bottles off the shelf. Azriel handed you some sort of juice to mix into Mor’s drink, while Cassian continued to insist that he is indeed NOT on cocaine. Both Mor and Rhys were chuckling at his defensiveness, while the two bartenders worked together on a sugary concoction for the blonde. 

You slid the drink across the bar and Mor took a long sip, closing her eyes, and nodding slowly. 

“You should be promoted.” 

You turned to Rhysand and pointed at Mor, trying to emphasize the statement. Rhys sighed in annoyance, 

“Don’t I pay you enough already?” 

You shook your head and started to take your apron off, shoving it into Rhys’s hands, 

“Az is here. I’m leaving.” 

“Your shift doesn’t end for another thirty minutes.” 

“Rhys…Our only customer is Mor. I think you guys will manage.” 

Rhys shook his head but let you go all the same. Az watched you walk to the back to grab your things, absentmindedly wiping down the counter. He caught Rhysand’s eye, with one eyebrow raise from his friend, Az cleared his throat and busied himself with some menial task. 

His friends all watched him, busy with nothing, and exchanged amused glances. He had been trying to tiptoe around his feelings for you for so long that no one was really sure what exactly it was that he actually felt. They just knew it was more than nothing. But something that you would never take the time to notice. 

You came out from the back. You had changed out of the black pants/black t-shirt uniform. Your hair was down and curled slightly from being up all day. You pulled your jacket on as Cassian let out a low whistle, catching the attention of Azriel who turned to look you up and down. 

“Someone’s dressed up.” 

You glared at Cassian and muttered, “It’s jeans and a t- shirt Cass.” 

Mor looked you over now, slowly, eyes narrowed, “Yeah but it’s date jeans and a t- shirt. It’s I’m gonna get laid jeans and a t- shirt.” 

Rhys nodded, agreeing with Mor. You frowned at all of them and looked down at your outfit. 

“You’re all delusional.” 

Azriel hadn’t said anything. Choosing instead to look away from you and turn completely in the other direction. Rhys smirked at his friend’s movement and turned back towards you. 

“So who’s the guy?” 

“There is no guy. Just homework. At the library. Alone.” 

All of your friends stared at you. Nonplussed. You opened your mouth, closed it, and opened it again, 

“I’m serious.” 

Mor let out a low mhm and turned back towards her drink. Cass ruffled your hair and muttered, 

“I’m gonna get you to tell me one of these days.” 

You pushed him away and started to make your way to the door, ignoring the chuckling and muttering of your friends. Who are no doubt trying to figure out exactly who you’ve  been seeing lately. Not that you’d ever tell them. They always had a way of ruining things. Either it was Cass and Azriel scaring guys away by being….the way they are. Or it was Rhysand scheduling you every single day you didn’t have class so that you wouldn’t have time to go out with anyone. Or Mor…who would give the guy a withering up and down look, so drenched in judgment that he’d get so uncomfortable he’d just leave. Amren…surprisingly enough…left whoever you were dating alone. She always claimed that was your burden to bear. You weren’t exactly sure what she meant by that, but you mostly chose to ignore it. 

The same way you often chose to ignore that Azriel would go stone cold at any mention of a new boyfriend or even possible boyfriend of yours. The way he would go out of his way, seemingly, to tower behind you at parties like a massive guard dog. 

You shook your head. Not the time. You had homework to do.

★ ★ ★ 

You sat in a secluded corner of the library, absentmindedly chewing on the end of your pen. Brows furrowed and eyes gazing intently on the book in front of you. Failing to notice a tall redhead slip into the chair across from you, until he pulled the pen from your mouth. You finally looked up from the chapter you had been reading and frowned at him, holding out your hand for your stolen pen. 

He shot you a wicked grin and leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. 

“Hey you” 

His words were a whisper through the quiet permeating the room. You leaned forwards and snatched the pen back. 

“Go away, I'm working.” 

He frowned and moved to sit next to you, “You seem stuck” 

You pushed his shoulder lightly and tapped the book in front of you with your pen. He put his hand over yours to still the movement. You pulled away slightly annoyed. You were trying to focus. 

“Eris go away. I have to get this done.” 

“But I want to go do something fun.” 

A smirk played on his lips and you couldn’t help but watch them as he talked, “Come onnnn. I’ll help you with your homework if you take a break to come play.” 

You rolled your eyes and tossed your hair over your shoulder, his hand moved to run his fingers through the tresses, but you didn’t pull away this time, instead choosing to raise an eyebrow slightly, 

“You know how to do advanced trig?” 

He shoots you an incredulous look at your doubt laced tone. 

“You really do only like me for my looks huh?” 

You didn’t answer, choosing instead to look him up and down skeptically. He relented and raised a hand in defense, 

“I took that class last year. You can read my notes.” That sly smile started to spread over his face again, “Or I can read them to you.” 

You let out a sigh and closed your book. He wasn’t going to give up until you gave in anyways. You tucked your work back into your bag and rose from your chair, starting to walk out of the library. He stayed exactly where he was, you turned to look at him, he was leaning back in his chair, head slightly tilted to the side. 

“Are you coming or what?”

He shook his head, as if snapping out of a trance, and stood up to follow you. He placed a hand at the small of your back and leaned down to whisper in your ear, 

“Sorry. You know I love to watch you walk away.” 

★ ★ ★ 

Eris Vanserra was an asshole. There’s no debating that. But the way he smiled and toyed with your hair. The way he was always as close as he could get to you without stealing the breath from your lips. The way he’d lean down to hear you better. The brush of his flame red hair across his forehead. His heavy dark eyelashes that beautifully framed those amber eyes that so often glittered at the sigh of you. The expanse of his shoulders. The splash of freckles that littered his chest broken only by thin white scars streaking across his skin. How he’d find your eyes in crowded rooms and offer up a small wink before breaking eye contact. His quick wit and almost annoying flirtation. 

Eris Vanserra was an asshole. But you just couldn’t get him out of your head. 

You rummaged through the piles of clothes stacked in the corner of your room. The pile of clean laundry had been there for days and you just never bothered to actually put the clothes away. Cassian lounged on your bed and watched you with a vaguely amused expression. He was fiddling with his keys as he watched you attempt to get dressed. 

Many an outfit had been tried on and immediately taken off. He had no idea what exactly the look you were going for was, but he also just didn’t care that much. He was just avoiding going to work and whatever made him later, and pissed off Rhys a little more, was good enough for him. 

You sighed and looked down at the clothes littering the floor of your room. Pulling a t- shirt over your head you looked to Cassian, while raising your arms in question. He furrowed his brow as he took in your appearance. 

“I mean what exactly are you going for?” 

Your shoulders slumped and you took the shirt off, muttering something about why was he even here if he wasn’t going to be helpful. 

“I’m trying to be helpful! But you won’t tell me where the fuck your going!” 

Cassian’s voice was full of indignance as he tossed a sock in your direction. You bat it away before it could hit you and continued to shake your head, hands on your hips, staring at the closet. A deep sigh made its way to Cassian’s ears and he rolled his eyes, 

“Are you going to hook up with the mystery man or something?” 

You turned to him now, “None of your business.” 

Your tone was flat and uninterested. 

“Why wont you tell me who it is?” 

“Because you’ll tell Rhys and Azriel, and then the three of you will do something weird and shady to get him to stop talking to me.” 

You were right. The three did tend to scare off any prospective suitors. His thought process was always if they couldn’t handle him then they shouldn’t even try to date you. Rhys did it for the shits and giggles…busy body. Though Cassian always suspected that Azriel had some ulterior motive. Some hidden reason for wanting to protect you from anyone they deemed unsuitable…which just so happened to be everyone. 

He shrugged and went back to fiddling with his keychain, “We just have to make sure he’s good enough.” 

You laughed, “Can I not make that decision myself?” 

“Nope. You have terrible taste.” 

Cassian responded way too quickly. To be fair….You did tend to have terrible taste, and there was no way your friends would approve of Eris. Mor hated him for some vague reason, something that had happened in highschool or something. She was never very specific about the events, but her intense dislike for the man was evident enough. 

His hands at your waist. His lips pressing feather light kisses against your neck. The way he always managed to figure out where you were without even needing to ask you. The spokes of his spine accentuated with the same thin white scars that littered his chest. His smell of firewood and burnt sage. 

You muttered a frustrated, “I don’t have bad taste.” 

“You have terrible taste. Honestly I don’t know how you do it…Just one after the other.” 

Cassian let out a whistle and started to shake his head. You stared at him, blank faced, arms crossed. He relented. He gave you a quick once over and pointed to something on the floor. 

“Wear the blank tank top and the little shorts with the uh…the ones with the rhinestones…and the black sweater that you were wearing yesterday.” 

You stared at him and then started picking up the clothes he pointed to, putting the outfit on, and looking at the mirror…a little surprised. Why did Cassian have to be good at shit like this? It didn’t make any sense. You turned towards him once more, a little confused. He shrugged before standing up, 

“If you came to my house looking like that I’d think that you looked good. Casual but…you know…I’d do you or something.” 

He made a vague motion with his hand and you patted his shoulder, “You know sometimes Cass, you are actually helpful.” 

“Helpful enough that you might consider telling me who the guy is?” 

You smile as you grab your keys from the night stand and start to walk towards the door, pushing him along as you go. 

“Not a chance.” 

★ ★ ★ 

The air was crisp and cool. The first sign of fall. It blew through your hair as you walked up the path leading to Eris’ apartment. The leaves were starting to fall from tall branches in waves of color. Color that suited Vanserra all too well. The way he just blended in with the season always had a way of enchanting you. Whenever he’d walk through the trees, his hair accentuated by the colors surrounding him. 

You wrapped your sweater around you a little tighter. The chilled air settling into your skin. 

He answered the door after two knocks, almost like he’d sensed you walking up the stairs. He looked stupidly good…annoyingly so. Every perfect thing he did bothered you a little bit. You took him in for a second. Sizing him up. His sweats hung low across his hips, his white t-shirt ending a little above them, leaving just a sliver of skin visible as he leaned one arm against the door frame. His hair was messier than usual, his eyelids heavier, like he’d been sleeping. His easy grace and lazy smile. It was vexing. To say the least. The longer your stared the wider his smirk got. 

“You gonna come in or just stand and stare?” 

You scoff quietly and continue to look at him, completely filling up the doorway. 

“Are you gonna move and let me in?” 

He pursed his lips, trying to hide the amusement, “You wanna try and ask nicely?” 

“You’re impossible” You mutter it as you push past him, a hand on his chest. He was warm. You could feel it radiating off his skin through his shirt, wanted him to wrap you in, and completely sear the cold of the night from your every inch. 

He let out a breath of laughter and shook his head. Closing the door behind you. 

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[fairydustblossom]

Sprinkles of Luck & Doubt

Hockey!Azriel x Ice Skater!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Do you think hockey!Azriel would sneak into the girls locker room/showers just to see figure skating reader? 👀

Warnings: Light sexual themes, angst

Word Count: 1752

Other Fics in the Hockey!Az AU: Penance, Shut Out, Out of Order, All's Well That Ends Well, Brr-eakdown Shots & Spins

_________________________________________

“What the—”

Your shriek is abruptly cut off when a palm lies flat across your mouth. Your heart hammers into your chest as you react, hands clamping down on the thick forearm that feels nothing like a woman’s, which is concerning considering you’re standing in the middle of the shower, soaking wet, in the women’s locker room.

“Easy, sweetheart,” a voice you know all too well purrs in your ear. You go lax against the body behind you, shutting your eyes and trying to regain some semblance of a normal heart rate when his hand slips away from your mouth. He plants it on your hip, and his touch alone only sets your heart into a stampede again.

“What are you doing here?” you whisper, mustering up the strength to scold Azriel when you turn to face him instead of sidling right up into his side and giving into every ounce of pleasure that him sneaking into the women’s showers with you brings.

“I needed to say goodbye to you before we leave for Briarwood,” he answers, and the way that he said he needs to say goodbye is not lost on you. It makes your stomach twist and your heart beat happily in your chest, your cunt perking up at the words.

“And that couldn’t have waited until I got out of the shower?”

His hazel eyes peruse your body in a slow trail, drinking you in like you’re his prey. His pupils dilate with arousal, and Azriel shifts on his feet as his cock begins to fill. If he doesn’t stop looking, he’s going to have the worst case of blue balls on the bus, and his teammates might not pick up on why he’s being so stiff since he’s normally a silent, brooding guy before big games, but he knows that Cassian and Rhys will clock him the second he steps foot onto the bus.

“Couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see you in my favorite outfit of yours,” he smirks, trailing the tips of his fingers up your sides. You shiver, near violently, clenching your thighs together when his thumbs brush over your nipples.

Your eyes flutter shut at the sensations zipping up your spine. You lean into Azriel, fingers fisting into his black t-shirt, uncaring that you’re getting his clothes all wet. He doesn’t care either, especially when he bends down into the onslaught of water to capture your lips against his own.

“You’re all wet,” you protest when you finally part, blushing red hot when he winks at you.

“Can’t be as wet as you, sweetheart,” Azriel jokes, but his cock is rock fucking hard. This was a terrible idea, in theory, to sneak into the women’s locker room and even more so to slip into the shower with you when he has only minutes before the bus leaves. But he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t not see you one more time before the tournament this weekend. He needed a kiss from his good luck charm. Needs much more than that, if he’s being honest with himself, but he doesn’t have the time.

“Ha ha,” you laugh drily, flicking water at him. “Just remember that while I’m here under the warm water with it’s perfect pressure,” you tease, fluttering your lashes at him when his eyes grow dark. To frustrate Azriel further, you slide your hands down your body, following the water cascading across your skin, right between your thighs. Azriel follows the movement with a wild look in his eyes that makes you want to back away, make you want him to chase you, touch you until you can’t stand, can’t see straight. The muscles of your legs twitch in agreement. “And you’re sitting on the bus with your hands in your lap, wishing you were between my legs instead of in your hand.”

Azriel growls softly and it goes straight to your core. It takes all your effort to turn away from him and plant yourself fully under the spray, slicking your hair back and shimmying your hips for affect.

“You are so getting punished when I get back, sweetheart.”

“What?” You whirl around, completely unprepared for him to be only inches away. You gasp and lose your footing, but Azriel’s already wrapping an arm around your waist and hauling you into his body. His cock strains against his pants, and the jeans he’s wearing only increase the sensations of his body against yours, rubbing across your sensitive, flushed skin. “You’re the one that started this mess, I should be punishing you!”

His hazel eyes glow at the prospect, a challenge. He dips his chin, his words fanning across your lips as he speaks. “Do you want to punish me, sweetheart?”

No, you want to drop to the tiles and suck him down your throat, no matter how much your knee might protest. You want to see his cock, touch it, taste it, feel it, but you know he won’t let you. Not right now.

It’s going to be a long and lonely weekend without Azriel here. And now that you’ve seen his cock, had the immense pleasure of having it inside of you, you know that the sad vibrator in your bedside table back at the dorms will in no way compare to the man with his arms wrapped around you.

On the other hand, you could see yourself stripping him bare, climbing over his lap and teasing his cock with your soaked cunt in punishment for the teasing. With him gone all weekend, there will be ample time for thinking up ways to tease him until he’s begging for you. You think you’d like to see that, Azriel whimpering and pleading for you to ride his cock. It would be a nice change from you always being the one worked up until there are tears in your eyes.

“Earth to sweetheart,” Azriel’s gruff voice draws you back to the present. You didn’t even realize you were grinding up against him, your breaths sharp and quick until you remember where you are, who you’re with, and what you’re doing.

You blink, feeling your chest flush when you meet Azriel’s gaze. His eyes are heady with lust, mouth set in a firm line because he’s trying to hold back the grunts and groans that threaten to slip form his throat. He doesn’t want to get caught, no matter how much he likes how you’re dry humping him.

Maybe he can sneak you with. Surely, coach won’t notice an extra body on the bus. Of course, that’s a lie. Nothing gets passed him. But maybe Azriel can convince you to drive down, and he can sneak you into his room for a little pre-game good luck romp in his bed. Yes, that might work. If he can get Rhys and Cass to leave him alone in the room for more than thirty minutes.

“Sorry,” you respond softly, trying to pry yourself away from him. You’re embarrassed that you lost yourself in a daydream right in front of Azriel and wanted more, but his hands are gripping you tighter, squeezing you closely to his chest.

“Look at me,” Azriel demands when you refuse to meet his gaze. You’re hot with embarrassment, and the water pouring down your back isn’t helping. Your name is a soft-spoken warning on his tongue, like if you don’t look up, you’ll be the one that’s getting punished instead.

You can get on board with that, but realization strikes as loud as the giggling of girls on the other side of the curtain does. You’re in the women’s locker room with a boy who’s not supposed to be in here, and he’s supposed to be on a bus leaving for the beach town on the coast to defend their undefeated season against the Sparrows.

You peek up at Azriel, melting under his tender gaze. Your heart pounds hard in your chest, so much to the point that it hurts. How he’s so easily able to calm you, to make you feel better with a single glance, probably means that you’re in way too deep with him. You should’ve been more cautious.

“Don’t be sorry,” he continues, his thumb stroking a soothing pattern across your hip. It lights you on fire, that touch, leaves you craving more. Azriel’s grin is crooked. “I like it when you want me.”

“I want you all the time,” you breathe like some panting girl. Why can’t you stop admitting things like this around him? You’re going to scare him off.

His eyes glitter, and at least you can take relief in the fact that he wants you back, might just want you like you want him.

“I want you all of the time too,” he says against your mouth, because he’s barely grasping onto his self-control by a thread. He kissed you like you’re the missing piece of him, and you allow yourself to fall into it too, brushing your tongue against his. Everything goes out the window when he’s with you; schooling, hockey, everything. There’s a twist in his stomach at the thought of that, that he shouldn’t be putting all his eggs in one basket with you, shouldn’t be letting you distract him like this when there’s so much pressure on his shoulders this year…

You feel it in the way his body locks. It’s quick, but it’s there, and the clapping of flip-flops on the wet tile stomping into the shower beside yours is the perfect excuse for him to pull away.

You don’t know why, but the way he avoids your gaze has you shrinking back under the spray and covering your body with your hands. You don’t know what just happened, to make Azriel go from doting and attentive to closed off and dare you say shy within a nanosecond. It couldn’t have been your admission, because he responded just the same.

You don’t get the chance to find out because he’s peering at you from under his thick, dark lashes, offering you a soft, sad smile, and parting with a quiet goodbye that feels more like a breakup than a see you next week.

“I’ll be seeing you, sweetheart…” He trails off, and it feels like a lie, even more so when he slips past the curtain of your shower without a look back.

It’s funny, that you can trick yourself into thinking you’re not crying when your tears mix with the water from the shower head that’s long gone cold.

_________________________________________

Azriel Hockey!AU Tags:

@whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @lilah-asteria @girl-who-writes-stuff @moosemahboi @sherayuki @lyinginameadow @acourtofatboydreams @blackthorngirl @shadowsingercassia @evergreenlark @hannzoaks @bloodicka @whyshouldihaveanam3 @elle4404 @cherry-cin @quinzzelx @i-am-infinite @feeriqueivre @blightyblinders @kennedy-brooke @nyxbranwenn @dee-writes-smut @konaanaria13

[fairydustblossom]

a ballad of flame and shadow part ten

pairings - azriel x rhysands!sister reader

summary- after hybern, she talks to her brother rhysand, who helps her come to terms with her feelings. and finally she faces azriel and faces what she really feels for azriel. maybe even accepting it.

word count - 1.5k

a/n - i let them be happy at the end guys! everybody cheer and clap or something. sometimes all you need to do is talk to your brother...or almost die. whatever. tomato tomato. also let me know if you guys think i should keep writing this series! I was gonna end it here...but if you want more of them...i might oblige.

read the rest of the series here!

She sat on the staircase. Unmoving. Refusing to wash his blood from her hands. She had pulled the arrow from his chest the second they slammed back into the townhouse. She had let a wave of anger crash over her. At the sight of Cassian’s mangled wings, at the hole in Azriel’s chest, at Feyre’s gaping absence. 

That kind of bond cannot be broken. 

Mor’s words. Refusing to believe that Hybern had been able to sever the mating bond between her brother and Feyre. She prayed it was true as she looked at her mate. As she looked at Azriel, unconscious and bleeding. She couldn’t lose it, not when she’d finally let it find her. 

The rage hit her first, at Rhysand’s admission floated through the house. His secret. 

Feyre Archeron. Feyre Cursebreaker. Feyre High Lady of the Night Court. 

And then that guilt hit her. That guilt that always plagued her. 

So she sat on the staircase. She hadn’t dared to let herself follow Azriel and Madja upstairs, letting Rhys accompany them instead. She couldn’t follow Cassian either. She couldn’t even look at him. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault. My family broken and bleeding and it’s all my fault. 

She didn’t know how long she sat there. Barely blinking. Barely moving. Her eyes far away, still with the pool of blood on the floor of Hybern’s throne room. 

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

Rhysand padded his way down the hallway. He was exhausted and devastated, itching to race to Spring Court and take Feyre back home. But stopping himself. This was something his mate had to do. So instead he had busied himself with watching over the healing of his brothers. 

He had watched as Madja carefully pieced Cassian’s wings together. Promising him that he would heal. That it would take time, but he would heal. He had watched as the healer fused over Azriel. He didn’t know where his sister was. But he knew exactly how she was feeling. He had known her too long. There was one reason she wasn’t at her mate’s side and he knew it well. 

The siblings too alike for their own good. 

Azriel not awake to wash away her guilt. He sighed. He would have to do it. So he left the Shadowsinger’s room to find her. 

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

She hadn’t moved in hours. It was like she was glued to the step she perched on. 

Rhys took her in. Her blank expression. Azriel and Cassian’s blood coating her clothes, her face, her hands. He stood in front of her now, but she didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. Fearing for the worst. She didn’t know if she could bear it. 

“He’s okay.” 

He’s okay. He’s okay. He’s okay. 

Her brothers words thundered through her mind and she finally looked up at him, 

“How okay?” 

“He’ll make a full recovery. It’ll take some time. But he’ll be fine. Completely fine.” 

She nodded and looked down at her hands. Rubbing them together slightly, like the movement would cleanse them. 

“You should be with him when he wakes up.” 

“I can’t Rhys.” 

He sighed and ran a hand over his face. He moved to sit next to her now, “Yes you can.” 

She shook her head. Not looking at him as he sat on the steps with her. Not wanting him to see the tears that now streamed down her face. 

“Don’t do this.” 

“Do what?” 

“Let yourself believe that this was all your fault.” 

She laughed and sniffled, turning to face him. 

“I wasted years. Refusing to believe that it was real. Refusing to accept this” She motioned towards her chest. Like Rhysand would be able to see that golden thread now fully connecting his sister and his spymaster, “Thinking that it would be better. For everyone. Thinking that if I let myself have him….It would somehow be a detriment to everyone else.” 

She took a deep breath and continued, “I kept waiting. For the right time. For a moment of peace. Thinking that when everything was okay and everyone I care about was safe. That would be the perfect time to let it hit. To let it snap. And I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t hold it in.” 

Rhysand spoke slowly, “You didn’t have to.” 

“Yes I did. Because I was right. I was right. I couldn’t accept it until he was dying. And look what we lost.” 

He whispered her name but she ignored it, pushing forward, 

“I couldn’t protect anyone. I couldn’t shield Cass. I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t save Feyre. Because I was too distracted. Because all of my worst fears came true and I couldn’t feel anything except for  him slipping away from me the second I let myself have him.” 

“It wasn’t your fault.” Rhysand gripped her shoulder as he said it. But it didn’t matter. 

“Yes it was.” 

“Not everything bad that happens is your fault. Cassian will heal. Azriel will heal. Feyre will come home when the time is right.” 

He moved his hand to her other shoulder, gripping them both now hard, forcing her to face him as he continued, 

“We took a hit today. But this guilt you’re feeling? That you always let consume you? It’s not your burden to bear alone. So go upstairs and be with him. Be with your mate.” 

She shook her head, “I can’t.” 

“You can and you will”

“Why should I?” 

“Because with everything going on. With the war we’re about to fight. With everything we’ve already lost, already suffered through…You deserve a little bit of relief. Let yourself be happy. Let yourself feel this…If not for yourself, for us, for your family, for Azriel.” 

She looked at her brother. Saw the guilt she carried reflecting in his eyes. Too alike for their own good. Too used to pushing away their own comfort for the sake of everyone else. But he had let himself fall in love. He had let himself accept what was offered to him, and it was what drove him forward. 

He moved to stand and walk away, but before leaving her to make a decision about whether or not she would go upstairs, he turned and said one last thing, 

“Letting yourself love someone is not a weakness. It makes you stronger. It’s what has kept this family together for so long. It’s what’s going to keep us together for much longer.” 

She hated that he was right. She hated that her brother always had to come to these realizations before her. Hated that he was always a step ahead of her growth wise. But he was right. She knew he was right. 

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

She stepped into the dim bedroom quietly. The curtains were drawn, a candle flickering softly, casting a golden light over Azriel. Who lay in the bed a couple feet away from her. He looked peaceful. Like maybe he wasn’t in too much pain. He looked like he was healing. 

Color had come back into his face. His hair fell over his forehead caressing his skin softly. The bandages wrapped around his chest were white and clean, blood was not seeping from him as it had been before. He was okay. 

She let herself draw nearer. Let herself perch on the side of the bed. Let herself brush the soft black curls away from his face. His lashes fluttered as he opened his eyes and when he saw her…he smiled. Like his injury was the last thing he was thinking about. Like the devastation of the day behind them was more bearable now that she was sitting in front of him. 

She sharply inhaled as his hazel eyes met hers. Trying to smile back at him, but not quite managing. 

His voice was raw and strained as he spoke, 

“You know…if I knew that getting myself almost killed would get you to accept the mating bond. I would have done it a lot sooner.” 

She let out a laugh. A real laugh, interrupted by the tears spilling from her eyes, a little unbelieving. But still a laugh, 

“Are you making a joke right now?” 

“Bad time?” 

He grinned at her and carefully moved to sit up, despite her protests. He raised a hand to the side of her face, and pulled it to his own, capturing her lips with his. 

When she pulled away she pressed his forehead to his and closed her eyes. His voice filling her ears, 

“Are you going to spend another five hundred years avoiding this? Or are you going to make it easier this time?” 

She snorted, “I don’t know. What do you think I should do?” 

He kissed her again and smiled against her lips, “I think you should let me love you.” 

She pulled away from him. Taking in his glittering eyes, the smile that played on his lips, the dark lashes lining his eyes, it was like she could see that golden thread circling around Azriel’s hazel irises. 

“You know I think so too.” 

Feyre’s return to the Spring Court. Hyberns building force. The war to come. 

They would handle it together. They would fight together, for their family, for their home, for each other. 

taglist:

@littlepippilongstocking @lilah-asteria @wrecklesssly @negomi123 @stqrgirlies-blog @mrsbarnes32557038

[fairydustblossom]

You Make It Better

a/n: this was a request! I loved writing this, and I actually had to make myself stop before it got too out of hand (obviously, do you see the word count?) maybe I'll do a pt. 2??

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: language, some descriptions of anxiety and self-doubt

word count: 7.9k

synopsis: Life as Nesta Archeron's friend had never been smooth-sailing, but you never would have thought it would land you in the fae lands, in a fae body, surrounded by unfamiliar...everything. You're struggling to adapt to your new life while dealing with the loss of your human one, but there is one fae male that makes it all just a little bit easier.

my masterlist

~ ~ ~

“Hi.”

Azriel’s head snapped toward you. He was slouched in a low-back chair facing the library’s windows, his large wings draped low behind him, but his eyes were wide and alert as he took you in.

You shifted in the doorway, folding your hands behind your back. You avoided his eyes as you asked quietly, “How are you?”

Azriel stared at you for a moment. Self-consciousness started to creep in as you stood there, all too aware of the plain gown adorning you that you had refused to abandon since arriving in the fae lands. They had offered you plenty of ornate clothes and jewelry since you were dragged out of that cauldron, but all you wanted was something simple, comfortable, and mundane.

There was nothing mundane about you anymore. Not in the way your ears were shaped, or the way your body moved, or how your skin seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. 

“I’m better,” Azriel’s cool, deep voice drew you from your critical thoughts. You swallowed, analyzing the beautiful man–beautiful male, you supposed–across the room from you. You didn’t dare step any closer.

“That’s good,” you whispered. This was the first time you had ever spoken to him. The last time you had even seen him was when he was lying in a pool of his own blood in front of the King of Hybern, his wings in tatters. You didn’t know what you were even doing here, talking to him now. You had just needed to get out of your bedroom, and had wandered the expansive halls aimlessly until you landed here. “I’ll leave you be,” you said softly, taking a single step back before his voice halted you.

“No, Y/N, wait a minute,” he rushed out. “How are you?”

Your lips parted slightly as you processed his question. You had been here for two weeks, and it was the first time someone had asked you that. Sure, there was plenty of fussing and daily check-ins with a member of the High Lord’s court, but you still felt so lonely, so isolated from everyone. They were all so worried about the physical well-being of Feyre’s friend, but there was no one who seemed to be worried about you. You didn’t blame them, and you weren’t angry with them either. They didn’t know you, and you didn’t know them, and they had done whatever they could to care for you.

You were angry with Nesta, though. You had not seen her either since that dreadful night that you were all shoved into that cauldron. She had sequestered herself away with Elain, and had not deigned to even see you. Her friend. She was the reason you were even in this gods-forsaken body in the damn Night Court of Prythian, and while you didn’t blame her for your kidnapping, you did blame her for abandoning you once you arrived here.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes snapped up to meet Azriel’s, who was waiting patiently for a response you didn’t know how to give. You shrugged slightly, mustering a small, placating smile. “I’m okay.”

He seemed to study you, eyes flicking up and down. You watched the shadows pulse around him in contemplation, recalling the name you had heard his friends murmur while speaking with his healers that first night.

“They call you a Shadowsinger,” you murmured quietly.

Azriel’s eyes followed yours toward his shadows. His gaze returned to yours apprehensively, nodding slightly. “Yes.”

“So,” you started, taking one step closer, “you control them?”

He seemed to hesitate, but eventually said, “Yes.”

His short answers weren’t exactly invitations to continue asking questions, to continue pestering him, but he didn’t seem to mind your presence. You thought about the sensation of being watched at night while laying in bed, the darkness that seemed to move in the corner of your room, but you couldn’t bring yourself to ask such an outrageous question, so instead you asked, “Do you really fly?”

A small, teasing smile lifted his lips. “That is how you made it into this House, no?”

Your cheeks heated in embarrassment. That was a ridiculous question. If Rhys could fly you up this mountain, obviously Azriel could too. He must have sensed your embarrassment, though, because he said more seriously, “Yes, I do fly.”

You swallowed, struggling to think of something else to say. “Do you like it?”

His face seemed to soften, the morning sun gleaming off his golden skin. “More than anything.”

Your eyes glanced at the shadows retreating into the darker corners of his chair. “Do they…tell you things?”

He looked at his shadows, before nodding. “A convenient skill for a spymaster,” he said softly.

Your eyes widened slightly. “Spymaster?”

“Yes,” he said slowly, his brows furrowing. “How much have you been told about our court?”

You looked away from him, focusing on the soft satin slippers Morrigan had given you yesterday. The first gift you had accepted from the cheerful blonde. “Not much,” you admitted. “I’ve really only spoken to Rhys and Morrigan. Morrigan checks on me every day, but they have their hands full right now.”

His nostrils flared a bit as he took in a breath. “That’s not an excuse,” he told you quietly.

The heat on your cheeks spread down your neck as you also admitted, “I also haven’t exactly been an enthusiastic guest.”

Understanding flooded his features, his eyes rife with sympathy that you immediately wanted to run from. You didn’t want his pity. You didn’t want anyone’s pity. You just wanted to be spoken to like a human—or fae—whatever the hell you should even call yourself now. Regardless, you didn’t like being handled with kid gloves. Hiding away in your room probably wasn’t the best strategy to convince people that you were not fragile, but it was better than seeing that look every time you spoke with someone.

“Why are you spying on me then?” you blurted in a desperate attempt to redirect the conversation. Which, you supposed you did, but you also felt the little dignity you still clung to shrivel up inside your chest.

Azriel was clearly taken aback by the boldfaced accusation, and you couldn’t blame him. Who did you think you were? Not only had you barged in on the Night Court’s spymaster and pestered him with your questions, but then you decided to accuse him of invading your privacy, and you didn’t even know the poor male. “I’m sorry,” you sputtered out. “It’s just, I feel like I’m being watched at night. Like the shadows in my room are alive, and now seeing yours, I just thought—maybe I wasn’t actually losing my mind. But I’m probably just paranoid, I never should have suggested—”

“It’s okay,” he cut off your rambling gently. He cast a glare at his retreating shadows, before looking at you again. His cheeks were tinted pink, and you took an involuntary step forward as your heart flipped. “I do control the shadows—most of the time. But it seems they decided to take it upon themselves to watch over our guests while I’ve been…indisposed. I wasn’t even aware until now, I’m sorry.”

You shook your head a bit. “They don’t bother me, I was just…confused I guess. This entire place is confusing to me,” you added softly.

“I can imagine,” he said. You shifted again, rubbing your forearm. You let yourself look at him closely, just for a minute, just long enough to notice the honey hazel eyes that watched you carefully, and the dark swirls of ink creeping out from the neckline of his black shirt. You swallowed hard, feeling unsteady in his presence in a way you’ve never experienced, as if your body was begging you to move closer to him, but your mind and logic were pulling you back.

You forced yourself to step back toward the doorway. “I should go,” you said quietly. “I’m glad you are doing better.” With that, you shut the glass double doors behind you, and darted down the hallway to the safety of your room as your heart threatened to beat right out of your chest.

~ ~ ~

“Hello.”

You jumped at the male voice behind you, placing a hand on your chest as you turned to face Azriel. He was smiling softly, and your face flushed from having been caught. You glanced at Cassian and Feyre training in the courtyard before looking back at him.

“Hi,” you replied sheepishly.

“You don’t have to hide here, you know,” he said genuinely, no teasing in his voice.

You bit your lip, glancing at the stone floor. It had been a week since Feyre had returned, and while it was great to have her back, nothing else had changed much. You had been here for over a month now, and you still wore the same plain gowns, and you were still in the same overly luxurious room, and Nesta had only spoken to you once. You supposed your conversation was better than you could have hoped, given the reported vitriol she seemed to spit at everyone else, but she was still so cold and detached. You missed your friend, and you missed having purpose in your daily life.

“You could train too,” Azriel said softly, and your eyes snapped to him. “If you want.”

You opened and closed your mouth. You had caught glimpses of Feyre training with Cassian the last few days, and today your curiosity got the better of you when you walked by the training room and heard them sparring. Logically, you knew you could have just walked in and watched them, rather than hiding in the plants framing the entryway, but you also feared they might have asked you to join them if they saw you. “I don’t want to fight,” you mumbled, avoiding Azriel’s stare.

He didn’t say anything for a minute, prompting you to glance up at him. There was no judgment in his gaze. There was nothing but pure understanding that made you feel overly exposed. The urge to scamper off and hide was biting at you, and you curled your hands into fists as you anxiously waited for him to say something.

“What do you like to do?”

The question startled you, and you frowned as you met his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“How do you like to spend your time? What did your life look like before…” he trailed off, and you winced at the words left unsaid. 

Azriel looked poised to apologize, but you answered hastily to avoid receiving any more pity. You weren’t some fragile doll, and you were tired of everyone walking on tip toes around you. “I like to sew.”

“Sew?”

You nodded. “Dresses.”

You didn’t miss his glance at your plain blue gown, and your cheeks flooded with heat. “Ironic, given my usual choice of attire. I know.”

Azriel’s eyes widened a bit. “That’s not—”

“It’s okay,” you assured, cheeks still warm. “I get it. Really. But the dresses I made were never…luxurious. They were practical. Necessary.” You bit your lip. “They were very mundane.”

Azriel’s face softened, and you braced yourself for the next question, for him to ask to see your dresses or when the last time you made something was (months, was the answer). “If you ever want to make something here,” he said quietly, “Just let one of us know. We’ll get you whatever you need.”

Your heart clenched. “Thank you,” you whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“As for training,” Azriel said, voice turning light, “you still could, even if you don’t want to fight. You can build your strength. Learn to defend yourself.”

Your eyes were drawn back toward Feyre, who was smiling with Cassian as she wiped sweat from her face. You nodded a bit, answering shyly, “I think I would like that, actually.”

~ ~ ~

When you told Azriel you wanted to train, you didn’t realize exactly what you had signed yourself up for. You had assumed he would ask Cassian to train you, just as he did with Feyre. Instead, when you showed up that first morning to train, you were startled to find the shadowsinger himself standing in the training room. Apparently, he was going to train you.

Two weeks had passed since then, and Azriel was brutal. He wasn’t harsh, or cruel, and he never yelled, but his demands were unrelenting. You had yet to even learn any sparring techniques. He said you needed to build your strength, to increase your bodily control, if you were to ever effectively protect yourself in the face of danger.

You supposed that made sense. He would be the one to know, after all, but it didn’t dull the ache ricocheting through your legs as you wobbly sat on the floor to catch your breath. You were dripping with sweat, your hair soaked and leathers damp. Most days you still couldn’t fathom that you were here, that you were training with a fae warrior while wearing pants.

A fae warrior that made your insides turn molten every time you met his eyes. You were fortunate he didn’t think anything of the flush in your cheeks every time he spoke to you during training. In any other scenario your schoolgirl crush would be embarrassingly obvious.

The toe of his boot nudged your outstretched calf. You glanced up at him through your haze of exhaustion, lifting a brow. “Get up,” was all he said.

You frowned, taking in a deep breath. “Azriel,” you groaned.

“I’m going to teach you something new.”

You perked up a bit at that, although the growing numbness of your legs protested. You pushed yourself to your feet anyway, willing your body to hold out a bit longer. Azriel might have been demanding with his training regime, but he had yet to push you past your limits.

He beckoned you to follow him to the center of the room, and you stopped a few feet in front of him. “You’re not ready to spar yet,” he said, and you glanced away, “but there are other defense mechanisms you need to learn first anyway. Sometimes, if someone has a hold of you, the best defense isn’t to fight at all, but to know how to get away.”

He took a step closer, his intense gaze somehow pulling yours back to his. “If you are ever in a situation where someone has control of you, if they are trying to take you somewhere or hurt you, your priority is to regain control, and then get the hell out. That’s it. Your safety is always your priority.”

You nodded in understanding, and the tension in his eyes seemed to relax a bit. His throat bobbed, and let out a breath before saying, “Today, you’re going to learn how to escape from someone else’s grasp.”

Excitement prickled at your skin, despite the terrifying circumstances that would have to arise for you to ever actually need to use these skills. It was just nice to finally learn something more technical than building your strength or endurance.

Azriel stepped even closer, and your heart skipped a beat at his proximity. He paused his movements, his eyes meeting yours again. “Are you comfortable with me touching you?”

Your eyes widened a bit, and you had to restrain the overeager yes! that nearly fell from your lips. You simply nodded, and when he still didn’t move, you quietly said, “That’s fine.”

Your skin was on fire before he even touched you, and it was a bit embarrassing, really, how starved you had become for someone else’s touch. Even if it was in the form of something as clinical as teaching self-defense. You were so isolated here, though, and it had been nearly two months since your life had been upended and you lost everything you knew and loved.

He moved behind you, and he slowly wrapped his arms around you, trapping your own against your sides. His chest was pressed to your back, his body heat mixing with your own, and his breath fanned across your cheek as he said, “If someone ever grabs you from behind like this, your goal is to get away.” He shifted his arms up to enclose around your throat, making your swallow hard. “If they have you in a chokehold, hit them in the groin, and when their hold loosens, you slip out.”

His arms moved back down to circle your middle, trapping your arms again. “I don’t get to try?” you asked innocently.

Azriel glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “Not today,” he said drily.

You smiled a bit, then refocused on your task at hand. “So if my arms are trapped,” you said, “then what do I do?”

His hold on you tightened a bit, and you did your best to ignore the pounding in your chest. “If your arms are trapped like this,” he said, voice low, “then you move down. Squat and spread your arms at the same time to break their hold, and then push them away.” He squeezed you. “Try.”

You took in a breath, nerves fluttering in your chest. You tried to squat, but Azriel only followed your movement, and you couldn’t get your arms free. You stood back up, letting out a huff.

There was laughter in his voice as he said, “Try again. This time do it faster.”

You tried again, but Azriel’s hold was unrelenting. “I feel ridiculous,” you muttered, still trapped against him.

“You forgot to spread your arms, it needs to be a fluid motion if you want to loosen their hold enough. Again.”

“What,” Nesta’s icy cold voice sliced through the room, “are you doing?”

You tensed, and Azriel’s arms slowly fell away. You blinked at your friend standing in the doorway, her hair pulled back in her usual impeccable braids and her eyes filled with her usual ice. Although, usually that icy gaze wasn’t directed toward you.

Your face flushed under her scrutiny, and you scrambled for an explanation, but words seemed to fail you. You hadn’t done anything wrong, but the butterflies that had been fluttering around in your chest seemed to drop dead, settling heavy in your stomach as you stood in front of your friend. Your friend who was also forced into the cauldron, who was also struggling while you were busy nursing your growing infatuation with the fae male at your side.

“Azriel is training me,” you said softly.

“Why?” she demanded, her eyes sparking as she turned her gaze on the male.

“She asked,” he answered simply.

Nesta took a step closer, her voice dripping with venom as she said, “I doubt that.” She scoffed. “You faerie males are all so entitled and overbearing. As if I believe for a second that you didn’t plant this foolish notion in her head,” she spat. “She doesn’t need to train, and she doesn’t need you panting after her.”

You could practically feel the tension thrumming off of Azriel, but something inside you snapped at the way she spoke to him, to the one person that had bothered to make a connection with you since arriving in this court. “Enough,” you growled. Nesta blinked, her mouth falling shut. “Azriel offered to train me, and I said yes, because I want to. I want to feel strong. I want to know how to defend myself. I will never,” you seethed, “let myself feel as helpless as I did two months ago.”

You heard Azriel’s leathers shift next to you, his arm brushing against yours. That brief touch was enough to ground you, an inexplicable calm flowing through you. You let out a breath, your gaze softening but unwavering as you looked at Nesta. “It is helping me,” you said, voice softer, “To have a routine. To have a goal. You are welcome to join us.”

Nesta only stared for a minute, her eyes flickering with indecipherable emotion before she pursed her lips. “No.” With that, she turned on her heel, and left the same way she came.

Your mouth was dry as you stared at the empty doorway. Azriel’s hand on your shoulder jolted you from your stupor, but it fell as you turned to face him. “I’m sorry,” you murmured.

“She is hurting,” Azriel said, and a small part of you warmed at his ability to see beneath the icy armor Nesta liked to sheath herself in. You were all hurting, and while you desperately wished she would just talk to you, you knew Nesta, and you knew she would rather build a fortress around herself that let anyone see her tremble. “But you shouldn’t apologize for others’ wrongs,” he added gently.

You bit the inside of your cheek, nodding. Your stomach swooped as you looked at him, thinly veiled concern shadowing his face. You couldn’t shake the pull you felt toward him, and now it left you feeling unnerved more than giddy. “Can we be done for today?” you asked, voice small.

Azriel frowned, but nodded nonetheless. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine.” You tried to smile, but you knew it didn’t meet your eyes. “I’m just exhausted.”

“Okay,” he acquiesced. “Same time tomorrow then?”

“Yeah,” you rasped. “See you tomorrow.” As soon as the words left your lips, you darted out of the training room, mind reeling as you thought about Nesta’s scornful words. 

You did want to train, you knew that, but what you couldn’t wrap your head around was how easily you had agreed to Azriel’s offer to teach you. Why did spending time with him every morning seem to soothe the ache that clawed at your chest from all that you had lost? Why did he make you feel at peace, when the very body you now resided in was the product of turmoil and violence? The realizations were jarring, and the questions they raised made your head swim as you fell into your bed, forgoing the removal of your leathers as you succumbed to your exhaustion.

~ ~ ~

Your eyes scanned the bodies moving from one tent to the next, fires crackling around you as camp members cooked or gathered around for warmth in the chill of the night. Nesta stood next to you, observing the camp’s nervous energy silently.

“Do you think we’ll have another night here?” you asked quietly.

A beat passed before she replied, “No, I don’t.”

You swallowed hard, your heart lodged in your throat. Your eyes scanned the grounds again, and in your soul you knew what you were really looking for—who you were looking for. There was no sign of the blue siphoned Illryian, and every minute, every hour that passed without laying your eyes on him intensified the growing pain in your chest.

“He’ll be fine,” Nesta said, albeit a tad begrudgingly. You weren’t sure how she knew where your anxiety truly lied, but you didn’t question her. You didn’t say anything.

Ever since Nesta barged in on your training session with Azriel, the rest of your sessions had been more tense, less fluid. You were sure it was your fault, your mind overthinking your growing friendship with the fae male, but nonetheless you longed for your early morning sessions in the face of this war. It was hard to comprehend just how much had changed in the matter of weeks.

Once Adriata was attacked, time for your training sessions became minimal, until they eventually fizzled out completely after the High Lords meeting. You understood, of course, but you couldn’t quell the longing you felt for Azriel in his absence. It was foolish, how attached you had grown to him after a month of knowing him, but you tried to give yourself grace given the circumstances you had been thrusted into. 

The only positive change over those weeks had been Nesta’s rekindling of your friendship. She seeked you out one night to drag you to the private library of the House of Wind, and the two of you chatted quietly over books beside the fire. It was the most normal experience you’d had since arriving in the Night Court, and it bandaged the wound that was starting to fester from Nesta’s absence. You still hadn’t talked about what happened to the two of you, about your futures in Prythian, in a world of faeries. Neither of you were ready for those conversations yet.

You sighed, releasing a fraction of the tension in your shoulders. You said nothing before moving back toward the main tent, hoping you might be able to get some sleep before returning to the healers’ tent to help. 

“Where is Y/N?”

His voice washed over you as you pushed through the flaps, entering the small area illuminated in faelights. You stopped at the sight of his wings splattered in blood, his dark hair matted to his head as he spoke with Feyre.

“Azriel?” you rasped. Azriel turned toward you, his body visibly relaxing when he saw you.

Your eyes were wide as he strode for you, his face speckled in blood and grime. His blue siphons seemed dimmer than usual, and his black leathers and armor were darker in some areas. “Are you okay?” you asked breathlessly, fearing the worst, even though he was standing right in front of you.

“I’m okay,” he said quietly, eyes soft. His gaze drifted up and down your body, his shadows mirroring his assessment. The cool brush of the tendrils left goosebumps across your skin, and you briefly wondered why that was the first time he had let them touch you. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, eyes brimming with worry.

“I’m fine,” you assured. His hands grasped your upper arms firmly, the tension of his grasp mirroring that on his face. You wrapped your fingers around one of his wrists. “I promise.”

His grip loosened marginally. “Why aren’t you wearing armor?” he asked.

“I’m working in the healers’ tent.”

He shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. You still need to protect yourself—”

“I will get her armor, Az,” Feyre’s voice cut through your bubble as she placed a hand on his shoulder. His eyes shone with thanks as she smiled slightly, her eyes limned with exhaustion. “I’m going to try to sleep. Let me know if you need me,” she said quietly, before disappearing from the tent, leaving the two of you alone.

Azriel’s breathing was heavy as you stared at each other, soaking in each other’s presence. “I need you to do something for me,” he said roughly. He dropped his hands from your shoulders to unsheath the dagger at his side. Your heart lurched as he handed it to you. You shakily grasped the dagger by the hilt, the blade surprisingly light and thrumming with energy. “It’s called Truth Teller,” he told you. “I need you to take care of it for me.”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times, shock stealing your words. “Azriel—”

“I want you to use it. If you need it, use it. Do not hesitate to protect yourself,” he ordered, eyes pleading. “Do you understand me?”

You absently nodded, glancing down at the black dagger clutched in your hand. The dagger you had never seen Azriel without. He stepped away to grab something off the table, returning with a leather belt in his hands. “Wear this.” He held it up, and you noticed the perfectly sized dagger sheath fastened to the belt.

Your heart stopped beating as his hands circled your waist to wrap the brown leather around you. He easily fastened the buckle, pulling the material taught around you. When he was done, he tugged at the buckle, his fingers grazing your waist and making your skin heat. Seemingly satisfied, he reached for the dagger in your hand, carefully pulling it from your grasp and sheathing it in your belt. You swallowed hard as you looked between the dagger and the male in front of you.

“I have to leave again,” he said quietly. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. Please, just,” his voice caught in his throat, “please stay safe.”

He squeezed your hand gently before moving toward the tent’s exit. You quickly caught his wrist, yanking him to a halt. His eyes were confused and weary with exhaustion, but you didn’t second guess yourself as you threw your arms around his neck, desperate to keep him here with you. He leaned down to meet your embrace, his own arms snaking around your waist to hold you close. His face nuzzled into your neck as yours pressed against his chest, and you breathed in his cedar scent that made you feel closer to home than you had in weeks.

“I need you to stay safe too,” you whispered into his chest. A shadow brushed your cheek as you closed your eyes, willing this moment to last a little longer.

A heavy silence fell around the two of you, and your chest grew tighter as every second passed. “Promise me, Azriel,” you begged, voice rough with the emotions threatening to spill out of you.

He lifted a hand to the back of your head, his hand gently threading through your hair. “I’ll do my best.”

You pulled back to look at him, his hands falling to rest on your hips as yours moved to rest on his chest plated with armor. His fingers pressed into your hips as he said with more conviction, “I promise I’ll do my best to make it back.”

Your eyes stung as you accepted that was the best he could give you. You couldn’t even begin to process why you were so attached to a male you had known barely a month, but the thought of losing him to this dreadful war felt like someone struck your chest with an ax.

His face was rife with conflict and agony as his glossy eyes stayed glued to your face. You wished you knew what plagued him at that very moment, if there was anything you could have done to alleviate some of that pain and anxiety for even a second.

His throat bobbed, a muscle twitching in his cheek as the two of you stood there, still holding on to each other. Eventually, he slowly leaned down, and pressed a fierce, lingering kiss to your forehead. Your eyelids fluttered shut, and when his touch fell away, and you forced yourself to open your eyes again, you watched his lingering shadows slip out of the tent where their master had disappeared from your sight.

~ ~ ~

The first few weeks following the war were a strange form of purgatory that left you feeling unsteady and filled with an entirely new form of anxiety. You hated feeling that way, too. You and your friends had all survived a war, and you were left worrying about your immortal future in this land that was frankly still foreign to you. You resided in a court that had taken you in after your human life was a casualty of their war, but now that war was over, and you didn’t know how to operate. You didn’t know what your daily life should look like, what relationships with those around you would look like when you weren’t facing an imminent threat.

It didn’t help that you had not genuinely spoken to Azriel since he gave you his dagger in that war tent. You had silently handed it back to him in the hours after you and Elain had slain the King of Hybern with the weapon. His eyes were wide and limned with weary exhaustion mixed with a hesitant relief as he took it from you. Neither of you said a word though, and then he was quickly swept away into dealing with the aftermath of the war. You could not fault him for it. You couldn’t fault anyone for the limbo you had been stranded in, and part of you was ashamed for your growing anxiety, so you had resorted to staying out of the way while everyone scrambled to handle the fallout from the war.

Any progress you and Nesta had made seemed to vanish with the death of her father. She wasn’t speaking to anyone, as far as you knew, after vacating the House of Wind. Elain had moved in with Feyre at the Townhouse, so that left you here, alone in the House of Wind with occasional run-ins with Cassian at meal times, whose eyes were weary with his own anxieties. Part of you thought your missing friend might be the cause of much of his tension.

You didn’t know where Azriel was. Some nights you thought he might have been there, as you laid awake in bed and a sixth sense sent a wave of comforting warmth through your chest while the shadows of the night seemed to pulse around you. It always quickly faded, though, and he was never there the next morning. 

Sleep started to evade you as your listlessness and uncertainty of your future grew. Your mind was churning with scenarios and possibilities for your future, for ways you could contribute to this foreign court and city you now had to call home. Usually, you would just lay with your thoughts throughout the hours of the night until dawn eventually broke, but that night, the walls seemed to be closing in as you wallowed in your loneliness and fear, as memories of the war started to flash in your head. You couldn’t stay in that room a second longer, so you meandered down the dimly lit stone halls until you reached the kitchen.

You put a kettle on, and then you started rifling through the cupboards until you found a mug and some tea. You didn’t recognize the herbs, but you figured Rhys’s taste in tea was as extravagant as everything else in his life. You placed the sachet in the mug before putting the rest in the cupboard, then rested your weight on the counter in front of you as you waited for the water in the kettle to heat.

“That’s an aphrodisiac.”

You screamed at the sudden voice behind you, whirling to find Azriel sitting at the small table a few feet away from you, his form barely illuminated by the moonlight leaking in. You rested a hand over your heart, your breathing heavy from the scare he gave you. “What are you doing?” you asked him, exasperated.

He stood up from his chair to move closer, his face slowly growing more visible in the dim faelight of the kitchen. “I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I realized you didn’t see me when you came in, and I didn’t want to scare you, but then I watched you pull out that damned tea Cassian bought last solstice and…” his voice trailed off.

You nodded, looking around the space awkwardly. You didn’t really know what to say to the male in front of you, but you did have one, nagging question that had plagued your thoughts these last few weeks. “Where have you been?” Your mouth was dry as you forced the words out, fearing you were overstepping, that you had no place to ask such a question.

Something indecipherable flickered in Azriel’s gaze, but you didn’t think it was irritation. “Everywhere,” he said quietly, as if he didn’t want to disturb the fragile silence the night surrounded you in. “But Autumn, mostly.”

You weren’t entirely sure what you were expecting him to say, but part of you didn’t expect him to have a genuine response. Shame curdled in your gut for the resentment that had started to simmer in you for his absence, when he’s been busy taking care of his home.

“Where have you been?” he returned your question almost playfully, and your heart hurt when you wondered if he didn’t feel the same longing you did during these weeks you’ve spent apart.

“Here,” you answered honestly, voice forcibly light.

Azriel blinked, his shadows stilling. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged, leaning back on the counter as if you could create some more distance between the two of you. “Everyone has been busy dealing with the consequences of the war.” You gave him a small, self-deprecating smile. “I’m pretty much useless right now, so I’ve just been trying to stay out of the way.”

Azriel looked like you had struck him, and your stomach dropped as you realized you might have been too honest with him. You should be practically oozing gratitude for his court’s hospitality, and here you were whining to him, of all people.

He grabbed your hand, gently tugging you to follow after him toward the balcony. His scarred fingers laced with yours, and your heartbeat skyrocketed at the unexpected touch. The cool night air felt a bit harsh on your flushed cheeks, and Azriel’s warm hand in yours contrasted with the chill around you.

He stopped in the center of the balcony, pulling you close to him, and you reluctantly let go when he loosened his grip on your hand. “What are we doing?” you asked.

He grinned, and your stomach flipped. “Remember when you asked me if I could fly?”

Your cheeks heated. “Yes,” you mumbled. The thoughtless question was embarrassing, but you told yourself it was worth it to learn how much flying meant to him.

“Let me show you why I love it,” he told you, voice tender.

Your eyes widened. “You want to take me flying?”

He nodded, expression hopeful. “Do you want to?”

You bit your lip, glancing at the city of Velaris beneath you. “I’m a bit nervous,” you admitted, laughing a bit.

His gaze softened. “I promise you’ll be safe,” he assured you.

With a sudden, unwavering certainty, you knew that you would be safe with Azriel, so you simply nodded. His smile widened, and your heart soared for being the cause of it. He held his arms out a bit, palms up, and your body thrummed with anticipation when you realized what exactly flying with Azriel entailed.

You took a small step forward, shyness creeping in as you met his eyes hesitantly, but before you could overthink or question what you should do, Azriel swooped you off your feet, an arm under your legs and back. A small gasp escaped you, and your arms instinctively looped around his neck. You had only flown one other time, that first day you arrived in Velaris with Rhysand. During the war, you had been winnowed around to wherever you needed to go, and since then you had been stuck on this mountain.

You knew you could have asked Cassian to take you to the city. You knew he would have done it in a heartbeat, but you couldn’t muster the courage to leave the House, to face the new city you were supposed to build a life in. Somehow, the prospect of leaving here with Azriel made it all a little less daunting.

“Ready?” he asked, his breath lightly fanning across your face.

You simply nodded and tightened your hold on the male. Wind rushed around you as his massive wings pushed you up into the air, and you were quickly suspended high over the mountain. You kept your face tucked into him as you listened to the heavy beat of his wings.

“Are you okay?” he asked into your ear.

Goosebumps littered your skin. “Great,” you rasped.

You felt the vibration of his laugh against your face. “Then take a look around you.” Then, he added, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Reluctantly, you pulled your face from his chest, forcing yourself to look down at the city below you. The lights of the shops and restaurants glittered across the city, and bodies moved between buildings, with laughter and chatter faintly reaching your ears even all the way up here. Another heightened sense that came with being fae that you had yet to grow accustomed too. “Is it always so busy? Even in the middle of the night?”

“They do call it the City of Starlight,” was his coy response.

“Right,” you mumbled. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “It is.”

The two of you stayed quiet for the rest of the flight over the city, with you resting your head on his chest and his hands clutching you close to him. You admired his wings that were near iridescent in the moonlight, and you wondered what they would feel like under your fingertips. You were nearing an outcropping on the side of the mountain when you asked, “Your wings…how do they feel?”

Azriel tilted his head toward you, studying your face a bit. “They’re delicate,” he said slowly, “but they’re also durable. Strong. They are uh,” he seemed to fumble over his words. “They’re also very sensitive.”

“Sensitive?”

“To touch.”

“Oh,” you murmured. “So it hurts to touch them?” You couldn’t deny the twinge of disappointment you felt. 

“Not that kind of sensitive,” he corrected, voice thick.

You caught the hint of a blush on his cheeks, and your own quickly bloomed as you caught on. “Oh.”

Azriel cleared his throat, then abruptly dove toward the outcropping below. You squeezed him a little tighter, and when he eventually settled on the stone, you had to pry your hands from around his neck so he could set you down.

You looked up at the stars glistening through the tree canopies, mesmerized by their abundance and luminescence. Your gaze slowly moved to the shimmering city beneath you, taking in the view from a different angle that the House of Wind. You were much closer to the sea here, and you could smell the salt and surf that lingered in the air. A strange melancholy filled your veins as you stared down at the city you had resided in for months and had yet to walk to the streets of, that you had yet to integrate into because you were scared of failing to find a new purpose with your life. The only skill you possessed was dressmaking, and underwhelming ones at that.

“I’m not sure how much you’ve been able to explore Velaris yet—” Azriel said from behind you.

“I haven’t.”

A beat passed. “What?”

“I haven’t.” You licked your lips, your gaze fleetingly meeting his worried one. “I haven’t visited the city.”

“I knew you hadn’t when we were training,” he said, voice soft with disbelief, “But I thought, once we came back from the war…”

You didn’t answer him, and he didn’t say anything else, so instead you asked, “Why did you just disappear?” Azriel went still, but you continued, “Why didn’t you…talk to me?” You wondered if you sounded as pathetic as you felt. You knew he didn’t owe you anything, but you couldn’t deny the part of you that thought the two of you had at least become friends over the last couple of months.

Seconds passed before Azriel finally said, “I was trying to give you space.”

“Space?” you asked incredulously. You couldn’t help the laugh of disbelief that escaped you as you turned to fully face the male. “Why would I ever want you to give me space?” You met his eyes, shaking your head. “Azriel, you are the only one who—” You cut yourself off, unsure of where you were even going with your rambling.

His lips parted, and his shadows swirled around him restlessly, but he didn’t say anything.

“Ever since I arrived in this court, I have felt so alone,” you breathed out. “My best friend won’t speak to me, and I don’t know anyone else. But you,” you took a deep breath, trying to stabilize the tremble in your voice, “you made it better. You were my first friend. Maybe, maybe I misread—”

“You didn’t,” he rushed out, voice almost desperate. His eyes were wide and stricken, but you couldn’t understand what he was thinking or why he had avoided you for weeks to then suddenly take you for a midnight flight around the city.

You let out a breath, your exhaustion from everything weighing you down. “I feel so detached from everyone and everything around me,” you whispered. “I have no purpose here. I have no powers, I can’t fight, I know nothing about political strategy, I—”

“You’re my mate.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you processed the words that fell from Azriel’s mouth. Your lips were parted as you stared at him, his  eyes glossy as he stared back. “What?” you asked, voice trembling.

“You’re my mate,” he repeated, breathless. “I—” He paused, licking his lips and rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t mean to imply that that’s your purpose, but it kills me,” his voice cracked, “It kills me that you feel this way, because you are my everything.”

A tear fell down your cheek as you listened to his words, as you understood their meaning. A mate. You were Azriel’s mate. The world felt like it was tilting beneath you.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t realize.” He took in a shuddering breath. “I let my own insecurities keep me away from you. I thought, when you didn’t talk to me after the war ended, that I had overstepped. I have never wanted to push myself or the bond on you, but during the war, when I was so scared of losing you—” He shook his head, running a hand over his face. “I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so I stayed away. Had I known you had been so isolated, so lonely, I would have been here.”

“I, um,” you cleared your throat. “I don’t really know what to think right now.”

“That’s okay,” he said softly.

You held his gaze as you rasped, “I don’t really know anything about mates, except that Rhys and Feyre are each other’s.”

“I know,” he assured, taking a tentative step forward. “I don’t expect anything from you. I will take whatever it is you’re willing to give me, in whatever time it takes.”

You nodded, lips wavering. “Thank you.”

Your eyes fell from his glistening eyes to his soft lips, and while you knew you needed time before you could fall into being someone’s mate, whatever that entailed, you also knew you wanted to kiss the male that stood before you and had made you feel safe, at peace, every time he was near. You took a step closer, your chests nearly touching. You met his eyes shyly. ��Can I…”

“Yes,” he breathed, his own head tilting down to give you easier access.

You raised yourself up on your toes to reach his lips, yours molding easily with his. A slow, comforting warmth flowed up through your chest as you pressed your lips against his, neither of you pushing for more than the chance to explore each other in this new and intimate way. Eventually, you pulled back, falling back onto your feet to stare up at Azriel’s reverent gaze.

“I don’t know much about mates,” you breathed, head still spinning, “but I would like to learn.”

A soft smile pulled at his lips. “I would be honored to teach you.”

You hummed, toying with one of the clasps on his leathers. “I suppose you are a decent teacher.”

Azriel’s hands rested on your hips, pulling you close. “Decent?”

You grinned. “Satisfactory.”

His eyes glinted. “I guess I have room for improvement then.” He pressed a quick, easy kiss to your lips, and your heart flipped when he pulled away, looking at you in awe.

“Yeah,” you agreed, heart tumbling in your chest. “I guess so.”

[fairydustblossom]

a ballad of flame and shadow part nine

pairings - azriel x rhysands!sister reader

summary- the attack on veralris hits them hard, the journey to hybern hits them harder.

word count - 2.3k

a/n - i love when women murder. anyways bear with me guys. it's gonna get a little lighter soon. real soon. tomorrow even. this chick can't be guilty forever, especially when we know that love drives the acotar story forward.

read the rest of the series here!

They were walking the shoreline, supposedly on patrol, but she wasn’t really looking at anything but him. The salty sea breeze blowing his hair across his forehead. His eyes on alert, scanning their surroundings, because at least one of them had to be working. A smile played on her lips as she watched him. 

“Azriel?”

He cast her a sidelong glance and hummed his acknowledgment. She leaned towards him and took his hand in hers. His full attention turned to her now. She was blinking up at him, something in her eyes that he hadn’t seen in a while. She was happy. Amidst all of the chaos that was raging around them. All the looming threats. She let herself walk through the sand with him and she let herself enjoy it.

“When Amren cracks the book, and we deal with Hybern and the cauldron…I was thinking maybe…” 

Azriel felt it before he saw it. Something wrong. He took a step back from her. His shadows billowed around him, rushing up his arms, his neck, sliding over his ears. She watched the storm of whispers flow over his body, a knit in her brow, that happiness that had been gleaming in her eyes replaced by rampant concern. 

And then they saw it. A smear of black separated, fracturing into countless figures. Too big for birds. Far too big. And far too swift moving. The cloud of black cut through the sky right over them. Countless long limbed flying creatures. All holding soldiers in their arms. An invading host. Shooting right towards Velaris. 

She watched a blast of red shoot from somewhere in the streets, hitting the oncoming army with a wall. Cassian. They ripped through it like it was nothing. A second wall of red was raised, some of the army skirting around it and going to what they knew was the outskirts of the city. 

She was filled with sheer panic as she turned to him, his arm already outstretched to her. 

They didn’t say a word as he pulled her into his arms and shot into the sky, hurtling straight towards the fight, their blood boiling. 

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He slammed into the ground next to Cassian, she pulled out of his arms, taking one of the blades he had strapped to his body as she did. The three looked at each other for a brief moment before their eyes steeled and their jaws set. 

“Go.” 

It was all Azriel said to her before he and Cassian launched into the skies and she turned on her heel and ran into the city. 

FIND FEYRE 

Rhysand’s message was a fear filled shout through her mind. She was already on it. Slashing soldiers down one by one. A blow to the chest. A blow to the neck. One fell after the other as she raced through the streets. Trying desperately to reach Feyre Archeron. 

A thunderous boom rocked the city. Azriel and Cassian both in the skies, tearing down those winged creatures like they were nothing. Red and blue shields merged, sizzling, and slamming into the intruders in a rage of power. The two Illyrians fighting as one. 

And then she saw Rhysand rocketing through the skies, his eyes trained on the streets, desperately searching for his mate. He’d find her. She told herself as she abandoned her hunt for the girl. As she took on the hoards of soldiers ravaging the palaces. She didn’t let herself think as she killed. Not stopping for a second as she cut through the opposing force like it was butter. 

Amren held the other side of the city and she shot towards the silver eyed fae. They stood back to back. Rhysand’s sister abandoning her blade and opting to mirror the movements of Amren, who merely pointed her slender hands at the soldiers, who would fall, slam into the streets, and claw and shriek and choke. She let loose that power that Feyre had felt upon their meeting. That power that simmered under her skin. She let it loose. 

Blasts of crippling darkness, not shadow, not storm, but something dark and cold and angry as the coldest day of winter. Tendrils of that darkness consumed the oncoming enemy and devoured them whole. Leaving nothing left, but empty husks,  as it stormed past. 

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“Velaris is secure” Rhysand said, his voice tired and strained, “The wards the cauldron took out have been remade.” 

None of them had stopped to rest until now. They’d worked for hours patching up the city. Rhys leaned on the mantel in the sitting room. Feyre limp against Mor as they sat on the couch. Cassian sprawled in an armchair, face battered and healing. Amren, clothing torn, half asleep, leaning against Azriel on the couch across from Feyre. 

Azriel didn’t know where she was. He had watched as she ran from the city after the battle had ended and he knew. She was chasing any stragglers trying to escape. She never was one for survivors. In times like these, she was not one for mercy. Letting rage lead her instead. 

He continued to cast alarmed glances at Amren, even as his own wounds still bled, he couldn’t help but be spooked by Amren’s state. He wanted to get up, to chase after her, to help her hunt down the few Hybern survivors that had fled. But he didn’t. He didn’t dare disturb Amren’s rest. 

He listened as Cassian spoke of Hybern. As Amren blinked awake to volunteer to stay to protect the city. But all he could think about was where she was. Why wasn't she home yet? Worry flooding through him, over him, as his shadows curled tight around his body. 

“If Rhys must go to Hybern, then I am the only one of you who might hold the city until help arrives. Today was a surprise. A bad one. When you leave, we will be better prepared. The new wards we built today will not fall so easily.” 

Mor loosed a sigh, “So what do we do now?”

Amren simply said, “We sleep. We eat.” 

She finally entered the townhouse. Her hair matted with blood. She was covered in it. Impossible to tell whether it was hers or the soldiers she had slaughtered. The inner circle took in her appearance. Feyre looked like she’d seen a ghost. 

“I remember someone, who in her rage, tore down entire armies, alone, during the war.” 

Azriel took her in. Every blood soaked inch of her. She hadn’t looked like this since the first war with Hybern ended. Hadn’t had that look in her eye since that raging battle. That far away, death hungry, vengeful look. It was like she couldn’t see any of them. She just stood, slightly out of breath. Drops of red dripping from her onto Rhys’s carpet. He watched the stain set in and gave her a look. But she didn’t notice. She slowly took in her friends, exhausted and spread around the room. She locked eyes with Azriel and that tired but blazing fury faded from her eyes. 

“And then we retaliate” Her voice was raw with the aftermath of battle rage. 

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

She didn’t speak as Azriel pushed her towards the bathtub. Didn’t speak as he ran a washcloth over her skin, washing away the dark red ichor and revealing her smooth skin, unmarred. He closed his eyes in relief. None of it her own blood save for a couple small cuts that were already healing. He ran his fingers through her hair, pulling tha tangles loose. She didn’t say a word. Her mind far away. He could feel the horror wrapping itself around her bones. He could feel her trying to push it down. What she had been before. What she had let herself turn into to protect her home…her family. 

He put two fingers under her chin and slowly raised her head. A small trickle of blood made its way from her wet hair, down her forehead, and across her face. She winced at the feeling of it. He dipped his hand in the water and brushed the bloody trail away. 

“Beautiful” 

It was the faintest whisper. 

Tears lined her waterline. Threatening to spill out, “Is the blood still there?” 

He shook his head and held her face in both hands. She whispered once more, “I can still feel it.” 

He tilted his head at her as she laid her hand over the center of her chest. 

“It’s like it’s pooling right here.” 

He pulled her out of the water, “Come on. You need sleep before tomorrow.” 

She nodded slowly. Done talking for tonight. She let him take her to bed. Let him hold her until she eased her way into sleep. 

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

Cassian and Azriel handled the guards. She and Mor stayed with Feyre. Flanking the girl. She let herself go ahead of Mor and Feyre as they began to descend that dark stairwell Feyre had pointed them towards. She went with Cassian and Azriel, through the door first. 

The three stood in the round chamber. She drifted closer to Azriel. Cassian let out a low whistle. In the center of the room, atop a small dais, sat the cauldron. 

It all happened too fast. 

She couldn’t hear whatever it was that Feyre heard. Didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. Until Feyre had started to collapse. Until Azriel had lunged for her, pulling her away from the dias. Until the footsteps were paired with Jurain. 

They were too late. 

Rhysand was there in a second, hiding the book. 

She couldn’t leave. She couldn’t get any of them out. Couldn’t get the cauldron out. They were all bound by some sort of spell. Something wicked. Something she could feel in her blood. She was too far from him. Too far from Azriel, only a couple feet away, but too far. 

She couldn’t make it to him in time. Couldn’t use her body as a shield. Couldn’t take the arrow that now pierced his chest. But she could feel it like it was her own wound. Like the blood spilling from Azriel was her own. She froze completely. That golden thread snapping. Finally, Everything he could feel was echoing through her. His eyes snapped open directly to hers. Holding onto that bond with everything he had. Holding onto that bond for dear life. 

She couldn’t hear anything but the deafening ringing in her ears. She wondered if he could hear anything. If he even knew what was happening. The arrow in his chest. He had slumped back against Cassian and Rhys. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t register anything. All she could think was, don’t leave me. Not like this. Not now. We have to have time. Please. I love you. I love you. I love you. And she tried her best, to think it loud enough for him to hear. Somehow. 

She didn’t know if he could hear it. Didn’t know if that bond. That golden thread could wind itself through his pain. Through the cloud around his mind. Through everything to find him at death's doorstep. But she prayed he could hear her. 

She was the first thing Lucien saw when he walked in. He couldn’t rip his eyes from her. The arrow in azriel’s chest, the way she clutched at her own as if she was the one who had been shot. It was like she didn’t even see him walk in. Didn’t even register the betrayal that now raged around the room. 

It wasn’t until the power exploded through the hall that she managed to come to. But she was too slow. Too distracted to protect anyone. And it was Cassian who twisted his entire body, wings flaring wide, to shield her and Azriel from the hit. From the hideous blinding white storm of power. 

It was Cassian’s scream that made her blood go cold. It was the most horrific sound she’d ever heard. Blood pooled around her, Cassian’s, Azriel’s, her own? She didn’t know. She didn’t care. She wished it was her own. The blood at the corner of Azriel’s lips. The blood in his mouth. She wished it was hers. She wished it had been her. 

Lucien watched her still. Even as Feyre’s sisters were dragged to the cauldron. He watched her grasp Azriel like he was the only thing in the world. Like she couldn’t bear to be separated from him. 

She knew she should care. Knew that she should be more shocked at Tamlin and Lucien’s betrayal. She knew she should care about Feyre’s sisters going into the cauldron against her will. But none of it mattered anymore. Nothing mattered. Not as her mate. Her mate. Was losing so much blood. Not when she had wasted hundreds of years refusing to let that bond snap into place. Wasted so many years just to have him a breath away from death, right as she finally gave in. Her mate. 

“She’s my mate” 

Lucien’s words hit her like a swift punch to the gut. Cutting the ringing in her ears. She turned around almost horrified and looked at him. He was staring at Elain. Not daring to step towards her or away from her. Just staring at the sodden girl on the floor. 

His eyes met hers. Briefly. He looked between her and Azriel’s limp form. Guilt washing over his features. Lucien realized then, what he possibly had already known. It was always Azriel. He was her mate.  

Feyre’s blinding light sent another jolt of horror through her, she once again moved to shield Azriel. But it wasn’t an attack, it was a sacrifice. One she shouldn’t have let Feyre make. But there was nothing she could do. There was never anything she could do. 

Rhysand had gone under the mountain. 

Lucien had been forced to live under a curse. 

Azriel had been shot through the chest with a poisoned arrow. 

Feyre had resigned herself to returning to Spring Court. To save her sisters. To save all of them. 

And there was nothing she could do. She never seemed to be able to do anything except drown in the aftermath. 

taglist:

@littlepippilongstocking @lilah-asteria @wrecklesssly @negomi123 @stqrgirlies-blog

[fairydustblossom]

a ballad of flame and shadow part eight

pairings - azriel x rhysand's sister!reader, feyre x rhysand

summary - rhysand's sister goes to visit feyre at the cabin after feyre finds out she's rhysand's mate.

word count - 2k

a/n - i love...when women talk about things. also...this one's a little happier. she's warming up i think. i mean...it's gonna go back to being super angsty in the next part but hey...they'll be happy at some point.

read the rest of the series here!

Rhysand was a tempest of worry. Feyre had bolted as soon as she found out he was her mate. Run for the hills as far away from Rhysand as she could get. 

She almost wanted to laugh. That feeling? Of not being able to accept your own feelings, due to guilt, due to other obligations, due to anything really. That was something she knew well. 

By the time she and Azriel had returned to the camp and she had found her brother pacing, he was healing, he was okay. Relief flooded her at the sight of him. As anxious as he was. As guilty as he felt for lying to Feyre about their mating bond. He was okay. He was standing and pacing and healed enough to feel every bit of his anxiety. 

He was okay enough, even to notice that his sister and Azriel had returned together. Her hand in his. His eyes followed her as she rushed to Rhys’s side. The shadow singer avoided the high lords gaze with adamancy. 

“I have no idea where she is and Morrigan is refusing to tell me.” 

His sister tried to hold back a smile, but he caught it before she could, 

“You know I’m glad my misery is funny to you.” 

She sighed and flipped him off, “Serves you right for not telling her.” 

Rhysand grumbled something about stubborn meddling sisters before turning away from her. He was going to try and get Mor to tell him where Feyre had run off to. She stopped him, a hand on his shoulder and said quietly, 

“Let me go.” 

He looked at her, worry etched across his features, “What are you going to say to her if you find her?” 

“That-” She started to leave him, “is for me to know and you to find out.” 

She shot him a teasing grin before rushing off to find Mor. He looked at Azriel and narrowed his eyes, 

“Where exactly were you two?” 

The spymaster shrugged and held his gaze, refusing to say anything. Rhysand scoffed, 

“You know whatever it is that’s going on between the two of you is…it gives me a headache.” 

“You’re one to talk” 

Azriel offered up a small smile. Rhysand let out a low laugh.

“Mine isn’t as bad as yours. It hasn’t been going on as long.” 

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

She found Feyre without even having to ask Mor. She knew exactly where Mor would have taken her. The cabin. When she pushed the door open the first thing that met her was the rush of color. The paint that Feyre had covered the walls in. She looked a little taken aback. This cabin hadn’t changed in years. Nothing had. But then came along this little human girl and everything changed. The paintings littering the walls of the cabin were a beautiful reminder of that. A beautiful reminder of how much color and how much hope Feyre Archeron had managed to bring into their families life. 

Feyre sat at the wooden table in the center of the room, looking a little guilty as Rhys’s sister took in the paintings. 

“I hope you don’t mind”

She shook her head and stepped closer to the painting of Azriel’s eyes. Her fingers brushed over it. Taking in the accuracy and the skill. Feyre watched her closely. Watched as she noticed the pair of eyes next to Azriel’s were her own. She turned towards Feyre now and joined her at the table. She gave the girl before her a small smile.

“How are you feeling?” 

“Overwhelmed.” 

She let out a laugh at Feyre’s admission and nodded, 

“The mating bond is a serious thing. It’s rare and it’s beautiful. But yes…it’s overwhelming.” 

Feyre studied her. She looked almost sad as she continued, 

“You’re lucky though. To have it and to have it with someone like my brother. As obnoxious as he is…he has a lot of good in him…and he loves you…I’ve had to hear about it for months actually. Let yourself feel this. Not feeling it is…harder and more painful. Not letting that bond snap into place out of…stubborness or spite or guilt….it’s..” 

She sighed deeply. 

“It does more harm than good.” 

Feyre watched the female before her and chose her next words carefully, 

“You sound like you speak from experience.” 

A knowing smile spread across Rhys’s sister’s face, “Do you love my brother Feyre?” 

An avoidance. Feyre looked around the room, at her paintings, and took a shuddering inhale. 

“He’s High Lord of the night court and I’m-” 

“And you are Feyre Archeron. Feyre Cursebreaker. That’s not nothing.” 

Her smile was warm as she looked at the young fae sitting in front of her, Feyre didn’t say anything she just blinked slowly and furrowed her brows, so the high lord’s sister continued, 

“Can you feel it?”

She reached across the table to lay her hand over Feyre’s chest, “That golden thread? Tugging at your heart like it’s trying to pull you straight to him?” 

Feyre didn’t move. She just watched as the female before her smiled at the mention of the bond, of how it felt, of the pull of it. Feyre frowned slightly and tilted her head, daring herself to ask a question she probably shouldn’t, 

“Do you?” 

She pulled her hand away from Feyre’s chest and moved to stand. She forced a smile, trying desperately to cover the heartache Feyre’s question had brought about, before gripping the handle of the door to the cabin. 

“Don’t wait too long…to tell him…that you love him. Don’t let guilt hold you back. Don’t deprive yourself of who your very soul calls for. It’ll wear you down and turn you into something….Something dark and afraid to love.” 

She felt like she could cry looking at the girl still sitting at the table, so much ahead of her, so much love and light that she prayed Feyre would accept. 

“You should learn to take your own advice.” 

There was no malice in Feyre’s voice as she said it. Only earnest understanding. 

“That’s easier said than done Feyre.” 

“I don’t think it’s too late to try though.” 

She offered Feyre one final smile before opening the door, 

“Don’t make Rhys wait too long. He’ll just get more insufferable the longer you refuse to talk to him. I’m sick of him already, honestly.” 

She closed the door behind her and started to make her way back to the camp. 

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

When she winnowed back into the camp she was greeted with Rhysand’s worried face. He looked terrible and not just because of his injuries. She gave him a quick once over before muttering, 

“I can’t tell  you where she is. Not without betraying her trust. But you should go look for her.” 

“What did she tell you?” 

“None of your business.”

“If it was about me then it absolutely is my business.” 

She raised an eyebrow at her brother and shook her head. She crossed her arms and stared at him. He sighed and hung his head, 

“I’m going to find her.” 

She gave him a nod of approval, “Yeah you do that Rhysand.” 

“You know you’ve gotten more annoying in the last fifty years.” 

She let out a small laugh, “And you’re just as bothersome as the day you left.” 

He smiled at his sister, strained, but still a smile. She pointed to the door, motioning for him to go. He nodded his relent and stretched out his wings, letting the wind blow against them for a moment before taking off. 

She turned away from the spot her brother had just launched from and caught Azriel’s eyes immediately. He stepped towards her and she let him brush her hair behind her ear. Let him rest his hand on her arm and squeeze it gently.

Can you feel it? That golden thread tugging at your heart like it’s trying to pull you straight to him? 

 She took in his beautiful features. His eyes glimmering under dark, heavy, lashes. The brush of his eyebrows and the cut of his cheekbones. If she could have, she would have looked at him forever. Until the image of him was seared into her sightline and she could never see another thing. He spoke before she could, 

“Last night?” 

She pulled out of his hold and started to walk to her room. He stood stationary. Not entirely surprised that she didn’t want to talk about it. But he had let himself hope that it wasn’t just a one off thing. Let himself hope that maybe they could start again. But there she was. Walking away from him again. He started to turn around, to walk away, but saw her turn around. He stilled and looked at her. Waiting for her to say something. He couldn’t breathe. 

She turned around when she reached the doorway of her room and looked at him. Tilting her head slightly and holding out her hand for him to take, 

“Are you coming or not?” 

He let a warm smile spread across his face as he took her hand. 

I was willing to take anything you wanted to give me. I still am. 

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

They still didn’t let themselves talk about what it was. But they were a unified front again. Maybe not again. It was different than it was before. An understanding. Something they let themselves enjoy. Still something they didn’t tell anyone about. Telling people, their family, made it serious. Made it something she couldn’t handle. But this? Something to share, just the two of them, some comfort as the stress of their situation set in. 

The mortal queens unwavering in their denial. The consequences of exactly how the second half of the book had fallen into the Night Court’s hands. The knowledge that soon. Soon they’d have to make their way to Hybern. Soon Feyre would have to face the cauldron and unleash that power she held within her. 

It seemed easier to take. Easier to handle. All of it. All of it easier to deal with when she could end her day, falling asleep in his arms. When she could reach for his hand under the table and feel him squeezing her fingers in return. But still. She couldn’t admit what it was. Couldn’t let herself fully give into that warmth in her chest. Around her heart. Ice yet to be unthawed. 

It didn’t go unnoticed. That Azriel would trail after her when she went to bed. That she found herself standing next to him whenever they gathered. That Azriel would move to stand barely a step in front of her, as if to shield her from whatever was thrown at her. It wasn’t unnoticed. By Feyre especially. 

“What exactly did you two talk about when my sister came to see you in the cabin?” 

Feyre smiled coyly at Rhysand’s question. She thought that his sister would have told him. But that conversation was just for them. The vulnerability his sister had shown was just for her. The privacy of that moment a testament to the friendship she had forged with Rhysand’s sibling. 

“That is for us to know…busybody” 

Rhys shook his head, “I don’t like this alliance.” 

Feyre laughed as she kissed his cheek, 

“Poor little high lord. You just don’t like knowing exactly what people say about you.” 

He shot her a small, half hearted, frown. She sighed, “She came to talk to me about you…but I think she was mostly talking about herself.” 

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

She went with him. To Rhysand’s surprise. She left Verlaris with Azriel. Leaving Cassian to take Feyre to the Symphony, a small thing to enjoy before what was to unfold.

taglist:

@littlepippilongstocking @lilah-asteria @wrecklesssly @negomi123

[fairydustblossom]

If It All Fell (11)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Angst, pining

a/n: Omg guysss it's been months but here it is!!! I'm so happy and excited to share this chapter ❤️ Things are slowly coming to a close with this story, but don't you fret because there are still some big plans 👀 The POV bops around a little in the chapter because I just want to capture a lot. Well, enjoy!! Thank you for waiting for me :)

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

Nesta Archeron was glaring at you from the other side of the room. The icy stare was a stark contrast to the warm, jubilant nature of those around you, and you found yourself continuously edging into Azriel’s side to avoid the harshness. If the Shadowsinger noticed your growing distress—which you were sure he did—he didn’t make it known. He only allowed you to get closer, subtly shifting his arm to accommodate your movement. 

Feyre was speaking on the other side of you, retelling a light-hearted story about the creation of her art studio. You had been part of the construction and she was more than happy to share that information with you. 

Meeting her had been immeasurably easier than meeting Nesta. 

“I’m so happy you’ve been feeling well enough to do this,” Feyre smiled, her hand on your arm starling you out of your game of avoidance. “I’ve missed seeing you. I know we all have. Elain was furious that she couldn't make it. She got caught up on the outskirts of the continent with Lucien.” 

You took a calming breath in through your nose and shifted your gaze away from the chair Nesta was occupying. “Lucien?” 

Azirel’s low tone rumbled at your shoulder. “Elain’s mate. He has an interesting story. I’ll tell you more about it later.” 

And you trusted that he would. 

Since the night the two of you shared, Azriel had become an open book. He had spent half of that night making you privy to the story you shared—how you met, how the bond snapped, and his subsequent idiocy of keeping it from you while you knew the entire time. That point had sent you into a fit of laughter because obviously you would have known. Your magic revolved around parsing out lies and secrets. 

Coming to terms with that truth also helped you better understand the bond itself. 

Azriel had explained that the cauldron found mates in equals, pairing the souls of those that matched. It had been confusing for you to make a connection between Azriel and yourself. He was an Illyrian with forceful wings and so much power that it needed to be contained in the azure siphons lining his body.

But then, on a particularly quiet night, Azriel had shared his role in Rhysand’s court. His words had been cloaked in reproach as if sharing that piece of him would send you running. You had listened with rapt attention and pieced together the truth of your bond. 

Azriel was the spymaster, and you were the truthteller. 

It also helped—presumably—that Azriel had gotten into the habit of telling you how much he loved you. Regularly.

He never expected anything following his declarations and never even gave you enough time to think of a response, but he said the words so openly. Handing you breakfast, taking a walk along the Sidra, in between stories from your life; Azriel always said I love you as if he didn’t mean to, like he was making up for lost time. 

You hadn’t said it back yet. 

Maybe you’d thought it. 

“There’s also a book club that I know has been eagerly waiting for your return—” 

“So you’ve really lost your memory?” Nesta’s biting tone cut her sister off. You snapped your gaze over to the piercing eyes you’d been avoiding. 

“Um—”

“Rather convenient, how cuddled up you are with the spymaster when the rest of us haven’t even seen you. What progression does that show?” 

“Nes,” Cassian chided from beside her. 

Something heavy made your chest hurt—embarrassment, you parsed out. You leaned away from the warm chest you found comfort in and glanced at Cassian’s exasperated expression as he stared at his mate. 

“What? You all have been hiding her away with your typical ploy of protecting her. Why hasn’t she been training with the Valkyries? Who gets to decide when she’s let out for a walk? I presume Rhysand is one of her handlers? I’d ask him but he refuses to speak to me about it and doesn’t show his face unless absolutely necessary.” 

“That’s enough,” Azriel cut through. You’d put about an inch of space between the two of you and the missing contact was glaringly apparent. 

“Is it? You’re making her weak.” 

“Nesta, we weren’t here the first time this happened. We have no idea what she needs,” Feyre argued, squaring her shoulders towards her sister. 

Nesta only scoffed. “Well, clearly, she needs something else because she still has no memory.” 

“I don’t know what’s going on with you right now, but cool it,” Cassian commanded. 

Sharp features ran over your form, analyzing your every move as the conflict continued. You felt exposed, belittled under Nesta’s gaze, and the fae only sharpened the lines of her eyes the more you squirmed. Azriel closed the space between you again, covering your knee with his hand, and Nesta’s jaw worked at the movement. 

You wanted to say something, maybe defend yourself, but you were afraid to open your mouth and be ridiculed. Everyone had said you were friends with Nesta. They had described her prickly personality but said you had been fast friends. They said she had been asking about you. 

You breathed through your nose and pressed your lips together. 

“She’s gotten memories back, Nesta. We were told it’s a slow process,” Feyre reasoned, attempting to lower the tone of the room as Azriel’s shadows became restless. 

“Right. And they all happen to be memories of the precious Inner Circle. Another agenda I’m sure was purposeful.” 

That was true. You’d gotten back a handful of memories now, all with either Azriel, Cassian, Rhys, or Mor involved, but those were the only people you knew. And they were all distant memories made centuries ago. You had no new context and had started to assume that this process would be chronological. Sort of. 

“We are introducing things slowly,” Azriel all but gritted out, his presence large and looming at your back. “Even the process of getting those few memories hasn’t been pleasant. Based on what we understood we thought it would be better if—” 

“It’s always what you think. She isn’t yours, Azriel,” Nesta fought, gripping the arms of her chair in a punishing hold. 

“Careful, Nesta—” 

“You’re scared.” Your voice was sure but quiet as it silenced the room. You stared at Nesta, brows furrowed, and watched the tells of her fear emanate from her. “Why are you scared?” 

Nesta looked jarred, affronted. She glowered at you. “I am not scared.”

“I can see it. I don’t understand it, but I can see it.” You met her eyes and something looked different about them—something searching. “Is it about me?” 

The room tensed, air becoming still. 

Nesta stood abruptly. You straightened your back and were halfway up to follow her, a confusing urge leading you to comfort the woman who obviously did not like you, when pain took your breath away. You faltered, feet failing as you shot them out to balance your wavering posture. You fell forward instead, the ground a harsh pain against your knees. 

Azriel 

Azriel was so quick to find your side, any vitriol lingering in the room no longer his concern. He pulled you against him and slotted your head in his neck as a whine left your lips. 

“What’s wrong with her?” Nesta asked, harshness tinged with underlying urgency. 

He had known she was scared—everyone knew that—but you voicing it had made it real, and Nesta was not one to put that out in the open. In another life, just a few months difference, you would have confronted her privately. But you didn’t know. 

“She’s remembering,” Azriel muttered, holding you closer as your body became dead weight against his. This part always sent terror shooting through him, but he was getting better at containing it. You needed him to be calm.

“Does she always collapse? You didn’t think to—” 

“Nesta,” Feyre interrupted, placing a gentle hand on her sister’s arm. The High Lady shook her head with a wince. 

Azriel watched the interaction with lidded eyes, his hands pressed to your head and back. He knew you would come to within a few minutes. Sometimes it took longer and you were far more dazed then, but he’d be willing to sit here for as long as you needed. 

“I’ll get the compress,” Cassian declared, kicking up from his chair with a parting hand on Nesta’s shoulder. “Take it easy. It can be difficult when she wakes up.” 

Nesta crossed her arms and shifted her weight between her feet as Azriel repositioned you on the ground. He looked down at your face, the way your eyes moved behind the lids, and then tucked you back into his chest. He reminded himself that this was something good; last time you remembered the first kiss you had had with him. 

A turn of silence overcame the sitting room and Feyre excused herself to check up on Nyx. Nesta stayed, using Cassian’s return as her weak excuse. 

“How long—” 

“She’s okay, Nesta,” Azriel said, voice low. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but she’s okay. You  need to give her time.” 

Nesta’s brow furrowed and she bit the side of her cheek. “You all have made her weak. She doesn’t need to be coddled.” 

“She does. For now. That doesn’t make her weak—to need people.” 

Azriel moved your hair off your forehead as a harsh breath left your nose. You didn’t wake yet. 

“She would hate it—being treated like glass.” 

“I know,” Azriel admitted. “She hates it now. But, as Feyre said, you weren’t there before. This is nothing compared to how we were then.” 

“I haven’t seen her in months.” Nesta’s voice was smaller as she dropped to the ground beside Azriel. “She looked so… timid when she came in. She was never like that.” 

Azriel let out a sigh and held Nesta’s gaze. “I know how this feels, but you can’t… you can’t blame her for this. You can’t punish her, Nesta. She needs you, too.” 

“She hasn’t needed me this entire time, obviously. That was decided rather quickly.” 

Azriel sighed again, but before he could help his sister sort out the myriad of emotions he knew she was feeling, you groaned and the sound rattled against his skin. The Shadowsinger pulled you away from his body but kept his arms holding you up. Your lashes slowly fluttered before you pressed your palm into your eye socket. 

“Gods, ow,” you complained. “I hate that part.” 

Azriel offered you a melancholy laugh and brushed his lips along your forehead—always stolen touches with him. “I’m sorry, my love.” He paused, sending a sidelong glance toward Nesta. The younger fae was frozen in place. “Can I get you anything?” 

“The cold compress, maybe?” 

“Cass is already on it. He’ll be back soon.” Another pause as you gathered your bearings. Azriel rubbed soothing circles into any skin he could reach. “Share now or later?” 

The question was routine now. Some memories were easy for you to share, spouting them off as soon as you woke up like in the case of the first kiss you had learned about three days ago. Others hurt as if you were reliving them in the moment, like when Rhys was taken under the mountain or when you remembered the pain of Day Court. 

So Azriel would wait, and then he would ask. 

And if he needed to hold you as you cried afterward, he would do that, too. 

Your tongue darted out to wet your drying lips and then your expression pinched. You sat up fully to examine the room, still disoriented if Azriel could tell anything by the rapid way your eyes moved, but you were looking for something—or someone, maybe. 

When you looked over your shoulder and found Nesta’s frozen form, recognition shone in your hazy eyes. 

“I remembered you,” you revealed. You twisted from Azriel’s grip to sit on the floor before her. “We were talking. Or, I was talking and you were… angry at me for something. We were in a terribly awful apartment. I think it was yours.” Your brows came together as you searched through the memory. You looked back up. “You were afraid then too.” 

Azriel didn’t have a moment to protest before Nesta had her arms thrown around your shoulders, her grip on your sweater visibly unshakeable. You had to stabilize a hand behind you to keep upright, and even though Azriel knew your head throbbed after getting a memory back, you didn’t make a sound. 

“You’re going to be fine,” Nesta angrily demanded, sounding as if she were placing a curse. “You are stronger than this.” 

A minute ticked by, and then another. Azriel sat idly by as Nesta held you against her and you held her back without as much context, but just as tightly. 

“Well,” Cassian re-entered the sitting room, cold compress held loosely in his hand. “This seems to be going better.” 

~~~

A few days after meeting, and somewhat understanding, Nesta Archeron, you found yourself on a walk with Azriel following the resurfacing of a particularly painful memory. It was something from the war—Azriel was hurt, barely alive, and you were helpless and miles away from him. The memory was mostly just remnants of pain and fear, and it had taken Azriel fifteen minutes to calm you down after. 

But that was fine—it was good. Because for every painful memory came several good ones, and those memories made it worth it. You almost felt lucky to experience many of them for the first time again. 

“Can I ask you something?” you posed, swinging your conjoined hands as they intertwined between you. You loved holding Azriel’s hand—especially after the first time you’d initiated the contact and he blushed so furiously it warmed his skin. 

“Of course you can,” came Azriel’s soft reply. 

The low sounds of Velaris winding down laid the background of the conversation. The occasional merchant sweeping outside their shop would wave to the two of you, and although you still didn’t recognize them all, it didn’t hurt as much to grin and greet them. A few of them reintroduced themselves with warm smiles after hearing of your condition, but others just appeared happy to see you in any context. 

“When I remembered us after we were married,” you began. “Where were we? I’ve been in most of the rooms in the House and I can’t find it.” 

“Ah,” Azriel hummed. His mouth curved up in a beautiful half-smile. “I was wondering when you’d ask about that.” 

“You’ve been keeping something from me!” you accused with a playful gasp. 

“No, no, not keeping it from you, angel. I wanted you to find it on your own.” 

“What do you mean find it on my own? I’ve only recently been able to find my study in the House and I lose my way if I start in certain corners.” 

Azriel chuckled, his eyes squinting at the corners. 

This felt so good—so normal. 

This felt like something that could last. 

“How many times have I taken you on this walk?” he asked, gently guiding you forward on cobblestone. 

“Are you changing the subject?” Azriel shot you a knowing look that had you rolling your eyes. “Fine,” you relented. “Almost every other day.” 

“Why do you think that is?” 

“It’s a nice path. The street isn’t too busy but there’s a lot to look at,” you shrugged. “I thought you just liked it.” 

Azriel brought you to a stop away from the street. “Look a little deeper.” He gestured around with his chin. 

There was nothing out of the ordinary, not at first. He had stopped you in a quieter corner of the street, one you always admired each time you passed it. Soft foliage lined each house you passed, purples and blues and muted yellows obviously cared for among old brick and stone. Gentle water could be heard in the distance, most likely from fountains or small wells meant to provide for families. In the setting sun, the houses were peaceful, serene. 

Something called to you. It was inexplicable, but you found yourself without the urge to inspect why you were being called. Your power was usually unexplainable—at least that’s what it felt like—but this was different. 

You turned to look on at the quaint cottage Azriel had stopped you in front of. 

“Does this place mean something?” you asked, knocking your head to the side as you took in the ivy that trailed up tanned stones. 

Azriel could be felt at your back, the Illyrian bringing his hands up to rest on your shoulders. “Yes. What does your intuition tell you?” 

“I don’t think my magic works like that.” 

“Just give it a shot,” Azriel chuckled by your ear. 

It was when his lips pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek, stealing your breath away, that you hoped for more. That your intuition prompted you to ask for more. 

“Is this… Do we live here?” 

You could feel Azriel’s smile near your skin. You turned to face him, his hands dropping from your shoulders as your expression shifted into pleasant disbelief. Azriel’s smile was twisted into permanent light on his face, and he brushed your hair behind your ears as you stared up at him. 

“We do. Picked it out right after we were married. We didn’t think raising a family in the House of Wind was very feasible long-term.” Azriel jolted, stuttering for a moment. “Not that we need to raise a family! Now, or ever, actually. That was just something we talked about before, but things are different now and just having you—” 

“Azriel,” you smiled, interrupting his rambling by sliding your arms around his shoulder. “Can I ask you something else?” 

Azriel blushed, closing his eyes with a sigh as he nodded in defeat. 

“Will you kiss me?” 

His eyes snapped open, the hazel searching yours with a quickened intensity. “Are you sure?” he asked. His hands were on your waist and you couldn't remember him putting them there. “You don’t have to—” 

“I remember our first kiss,” you countered. Your eyes flickered down to the ring hanging around his neck. That question would be for another time. “Seems only fair that I’d get to experience one in real-time, don’t you think?”

“You don’t want to go in the house? Go see it?” he whispered, but he was leaning down as he spoke the words, his eyes glued to your lips. 

“I think I’ll have time later.” 

When his lips met yours, Azriel exhaled deeply, the hands on your waist pulling you closer with desperation lining his skin. He deepened the kiss in a way that seemed unintentional, intrinsic, and you saw stars behind your lids as he covered your mouth with his and kissed you harder. You had to take a step back to steady yourself and he only followed, his wings coming around your back to press you tighter. 

Something rumbled in the back of Azriel’s throat as your fingers twined through his hair. You only had the faint memory of a kiss, but that one was much different than this. That kiss had been sweet and tentative. This kiss was desperate and needy and you could feel the way Azriel missed you in each of his touches.

And, Gods, did you miss him, too. Differently—a way you couldn’t even understand—but you missed him. 

When you pulled back, you were met with Azriel’s furrowed brow, his eyes flickering between both of yours. He kept you close as you let out a breathy laugh. 

“Do you always kiss me like that?” 

“I should,” he breathed, and then he kissed you and kissed you until your back met the front door of your home. 

~~~

“Things wouldn’t be so bad, you know,” Mor announced, breaking the silence in the room. “If you didn’t get everything back.” 

You glanced up from the diary you’d been poring over, bookmarking the page as you stared up at your friend. “What do you mean?” 

“I just mean if you had gaps, maybe things you never remembered, that would be okay,” Mor continued, rising to sit beside you on the loveseat. 

She had come to visit you in the cottage—your cottage—bringing you one of your diaries they had hidden in the House of Wind. You had eagerly ripped it from her hands and dove into the contents, barely greeting her as you ushered her in and flipped the door shut. 

“Well, the goal is everything,” you explained. You held up the diary and gave it a small shake. “That’s why Az and I asked for these. And there are still people out looking for the witch.” 

Mor kissed her teeth and sighed. “But it would be okay,” she repeated. “If you never got it all back. It would be okay if you were just like this, all the time.” 

“What, is there something you’re hoping I won’t remember? Something embarrassing?” you teased, but Mor didn’t laugh. 

“I’ve been thinking about something you said a little while ago. It’s been bothering me. I talked to Azriel about it too, and I just… I need you to know that we all love you—that I love you—just as you are now. You aren’t a ghost.” 

The smile fell from your lips. You placed the diary down in your lap and turned to face Mor, taking her hands in yours. “Mor, I know that. I didn’t mean—” 

“No, you were right. We were talking as if you weren’t there and that wasn’t fair. None of this is fair, but especially not that. You have to know, y/n, that the way you are, right now, that’s still you. I’m sorry. We’ve all been idiots.” 

You huffed out a small chuckle. “I mean I wasn’t going to say it.”

Some of the light returned to Mor’s eyes, masking the grief that lingered there. “See, there you are.” 

You gripped her hands tighter, yanking her in for a hug. “I forgive you, Mor.” 

She clutched at your shirt and laughed. “Thank the Mother. Because Azriel wouldn’t shut up about keeping you all to himself. I was sick of the gloating.” 

“Azriel? Gloating?” you feigned a gasp, pulling back with a teasing smile. 

“You bring it out of him.” 

Memories came in different waves as time went on. Sometimes they were quick, difficult rememberings. Other times you were out for much longer and would wake up disoriented and confused. But you were never afraid of them. 

At first, the slow nature of their return did make you afraid. You had feared that this process would take too long and everyone would grow tired of waiting. Maybe Azriel would start rolling his eyes when you lost consciousness or Cassian would start to grumble every time you couldn’t connect the dots in one of his stories. The fear was real and it ate away at you for about one week before it was completely diminished. 

Because this conversation you were having with Mor—you’d had it with Azriel too. 

He had pressed his lips along your forehead and told you that it was fine if you couldn't remember everything, he’d just make you fall in love with him again. 

And maybe you were too afraid to tell him that he’d already succeeded at that feat. 

A comfortable silence fell over the room as you and Mor continued your independent tasks, you reading your diary, Mor flipping through a stack of correspondence she had brought along with her. The sounds of scribbling and creased parchment were reminiscent of the first few days after you lost your memory—Mor would bring work into your room and sit beside you as you nursed a headache. Hearing it in this context, in your home, felt like it had a meaning to it. 

Azriel 

It was later in the afternoon when the front door silently opened, Azriel removing his shoes by the door and setting off to find his mate in the cottage. He could hear someone else and mistakenly thought it to be Nesta before he spotted a head of bright-blonde hair beside you in the sitting room. Mor had been the only one in the family who hadn’t visited the cottage yet and relief filled his chest and the sight of her. 

You had started to worry that she didn’t want to see you. Azriel had reassured you several times that Mor just thought you didn’t want to see her after the way everyone acted, but his sweet words had done little to quell your fears. 

Your relationship with Mor had been different since you woke up; she had been the one person you could trust for a while. When he was afraid and messing everything up, Mor held your hand and talked you through his idiocy. 

He was glad some semblance of a reunion in his sitting room. 

“Hi, girls,” Azriel greeted, keeping his voice low to match the calm of the room. He leaned down beside your place on the loveseat, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Should I get a fire going? It’s cold in here.” 

You turned your head to grin up at him, and Azriel had to calm his heart as it skipped several beats. He was trying to be casual about all of this—about you in the seat you had claimed as yours several years ago, sitting beside your best friend and smiling up at him, looking as if you belonged here because you did—but you were making it very difficult with your pretty smile and the pretty way you blinked at him. 

“Hi, Az. Mor’s here,” you offered. 

“I see that, my love.” 

You smiled again, this time directing it towards Mor. “She brought one of my journals. It’s from before I met you all. I don’t have any memories of that time yet. Very informative.” 

“Thought we could go chronologically,” Mor quipped. She leaned up from the couch and stretched her arms. “I’ll let you guys get to it, then. With… whatever mates do.” 

“Will you be back?” 

Azriel’s heart hurt a little at the question, and he could tell by the softness in Mor’s gaze that she felt the same. 

“Of course. Just not when you and Nesta are having your book club. Made that mistake a few too many times,” she teased, sending parting words out the entryway. 

As soon as Mor had vacated the seat beside you, Azriel was occupying the space, rounding his arm over your shoulders and smashing you into his chest as he pressed kisses to your skin. You laughed and attempted to push him away, the journal now lost in a cushion, but Azriel was unrelenting. 

“I missed you,” he proclaimed. 

“I saw you this morning,” you giggled back, finally giving up and allowing the onslaught of affection. 

“Doesn’t matter. I spent weeks not touching you. You just started letting me kiss you.”

“We’ve been kissing for a few weeks now.” Azriel only hummed at your words and moved his hands to cup your face as he kissed your cheeks. “Gods, we sound like children.” 

“I love you.” 

Main POV

You opened your mouth to reply, but Azriel had already silenced you with his lips. You were breathless when he pulled away, all thoughts emptying from your brain. 

“How was your day?” he asked, removing himself from the tight grip he’d captured you in. But he still kept you glued to his side. 

You took a breath in and blinked. “Um, it was good. Mor came.” 

“You mentioned,” Azriel teased. “Any memories you want to talk about over dinner?” 

“None today. It’s been slow over the past few days, I’ve noticed.” 

Azriel brushed hair from your forehead. “That’s okay. They’ll come with time.” He paused. “Or they won’t.” 

The reminder of Azriel’s promise to you sat behind his words. It echoed Mor’s conversation earlier and you fought the reassurance and dread that battled within you. 

Because he was right. They might come, or they might not. 

Your family would love you either way. 

But, would you have to live with this feeling of… incompleteness forever as well? 

Would that fade with time? 

You offered a soft smile and leaned up to kiss the corner of Azriel’s mouth. “The things in the journal Mor gave me,” you began. “Usually, when one of you tells me about something from the past I feel a connection to it. Or I get a memory back. But I’ve been poring over this book—” you fished it out from the cushions. “—and, nothing. It’s like I’m reading a story and not my own words.” 

Azriel furrowed his brow. “That must be difficult to comprehend.” 

“It is,” you nodded. “And, that’s fine—I guess. Because none of you can really reinforce memories when you weren’t there. I just feel strange about it.” 

“Can I do anything to help?” 

You bit your lip as Azriel stared back at you with concern laced in his features. He was already doing everything he could to help, already pushing aside so much so you could find comfort in this confusing life you’d been dropped into. 

You watched the way he held himself back, the way he always kept himself close to Velaris and refused necessary missions to keep you near. You looked on without the means to help him as he stressed over the memories you’d receive. He spent countless hours retelling your story and holding you through difficult bouts of unconsciousness and taking it so, painfully slow with you. 

Maybe, if you really thought about it, this hole within you wasn’t that big of a deal. 

“Could you get that fire started?” 

[fairydustblossom]

If It All Fell (10)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, pining

a/n: As always, thank you so much for reading :) You guys have really been in it for the long haul with this fic and I adore you for it. My brain only lets me write it about once a month. I hope you love it and I love you!!! Please let me know what you think!!! ❤️

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

The syllables of your name echoed, bouncing off the stark chamber of your mind that was now sullied by a beautiful memory with no context. You’d grown used to the quietness, the emptiness—however temporary that was to be. The new memory chafed. 

Pressure remained constant along the back of your neck and you felt the awkward angle of your back as it rested against something sharp. Your body shifted. Another pained croak of your name vibrated in the air. 

“Please, please.” Azriel, you determined, his voice restrained and tight. “Not again. Please, not again. I thought—I thought it would’ve been okay. It didn’t seem—” 

He cut himself off, choking on the words and leaning down until you felt his face press into your shoulder. You wanted to open your eyes, but nothing made sense enough for you to do so. The memory of your laughter and joy lingered in your mind still, creating a dull ache that battled with the present. 

“You wouldn’t have had to find me. I never would have left your side.”

Azriel had said that. This Azriel—right? 

“I love you. I love you and I’m sorry, y/n,” you heard the words mumbled against your skin. “I’m so sorry. I knew I shouldn’t have pushed it. I knew—” 

Was this the same Azriel who avoided the threshold of your bedroom for days after your return to Velaris? The one that refused a simple lunch with you and struggled to look you in the eye? Was this the Azriel you had seen in that memory? 

He spoke as if he were—held you with a reverence that seemed to connect each and every discrepancy. 

You let out a shaky breath, fighting for full consciousness. When your eyes finally caught up with your brain, Azriel was there, hovering over you with damp cheeks and a harrowed expression. 

Last time—you thought, connecting dots as you blinked away the ache behind your eyes—you probably hadn’t woken up. Last time, Azriel had most likely approached this with much less delicacy and you had paid the price. Everyone said you were in too much pain to hear about your past. 

Last time, last time, last time. 

“Are you okay?” Azriel asked, his broken words a testament to your assumptions. 

But you weren’t thinking about last time anymore. 

Azriel was your mate.

You were Azriel’s mate. 

And he had said—

“You said you wouldn’t leave my side,” you whispered. You were clutching at his arms with a white-knuckle grip, the action barely registering in your mind. “You said—” 

“When, baby?” Azriel rushed, the endearment passing through his lips like a desperate prayer. His fingers made their way to your cheeks, brushing along your skin just as desperately. 

“When we were married. You said… the first time… you wouldn’t have left my side if I never remembered you.” 

Azriel’s expression widened. “When we were… Did you—” 

His breath came out in quick huffs. He blinked, as if to clear the image of you in his arms, and then moved to sit you up in his lap. His shadows were a mess alongside you, wrapping and twining into odd shapes as they sought to ease the tension on the balcony. 

When you were finally situated against him, your body still shaking with the events of the evening, Azriel licked his lips and spoke. “Did you remember something?” 

“Yes,” you whispered, your gaze fixated on your fingers as they rested in your lap. You observed your tremors with an unnecessary acuity. “I think so. We were… in bed. After our wedding, I think. You said we were mates, right?” 

You tilted your head up to catch his eye in a question, feeling no embarrassment at your question. Something had shifted after his admission. After your memory. 

You felt more empowered with just a taste of your life. 

“Are,” Azriel clarified. “We are mates. Now and always.” 

“You said something similar in my memory.” You turned back down to your fingers. “How long ago was that?” 

“If you remembered our wedding, that was 267 years ago. After we got you back from Day Court we had a ceremony—a public one. It was around a year after you were healed.” 

“267 is very specific.” 

“I could never forget the day I married you.” 

You locked your fingers together and squeezed your hands until it hurt. 

“Are you okay?” Azriel asked again. His tone was lower this time, almost scared. 

You furrowed your brows and released your fingers. The shaking had stopped. You hadn't tried to remove yourself from Azriel’s lap and he hadn’t commented on how you nestled into his chest as if it were your right. 

Because, apparently, it was your right to touch him in this way. You had been fighting that instinct for weeks, but right now you were confused and conflicted and although everything was becoming clear, it also felt as if your world was toppled once again. So you didn’t move from the one thing that made you feel sane. And Azriel did not move you.

“I think so,” you answered.

“Are you… angry with me?” 

The furrow of your brow deepened. “Should I be?” 

“Yes.” His answer was instantaneous. You turned your face up to inspect the guilt lacing his tone and found it in the clench of his jaw—in the wetness still evident in his waterline. “I have failed you, y/n. I have failed you twice and, this time, I have broken more than one promise.” 

“Azriel—” you began, ready to reassure something you had no understanding of, but the shadowsinger hung his head and refused to let you stumble through your words. 

“I do not deserve your forgiveness—not now. I told you I would stay beside you and then I ran in cowardice. I brought you to this,” he gestured with his shoulders. “To this confusion and isolation. I am supposed to be your mate, y/n. I know that doesn't mean much to you now, but it will. And you will be disgusted by me.” 

“Azriel, that can’t be true,” you argued. “I know this has been so hard and I don’t blame you for your actions. I was angry before—I am still angry—but not at your fear.” 

Azriel’s teeth came together even harder, grinding as his wings coiled tightly at his shoulders. He took a long breath and released it through his nose, frustration emanating from him in waves. But not towards you, you gathered, as he finally looked down to meet your gaze and his eyes softened to match the dried tears on his face. 

You wanted to reach up and soothe some of the torture written across his expression, but Azriel gave you a sad smile that stopped you in your tracks. 

He rested his hand on your cheek. “Always too good for me,” he whispered, a too-quiet preface to his next declaration. “I’m going to take you back to your room. Your body and mind must be exhausted. We can talk in the morning.” 

“But Azriel—” 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assured. “Tomorrow.” 

~~

You lasted about two hours in your room. 

Calling it “your” room was a bit of a stretch. You had confirmed your suspicions that something had been off about the space after learning of your mate. There was no way you lived in this room alone when you had a relationship like that. 

You began pacing after Azriel had left you at the door. He had placed a lingering hand on your shoulder and waited until you shut the door behind you to leave. So, still fraught with confusion and pent-up frustration and newfound hope, you started pacing. 

Azriel had told you to rest, a futile recommendation with so much battling within your mind. But above it all, you were thinking about him—about the memory and his words and him being your mate.

You had meant what you said on the balcony. You were still angry at the way everyone treated you like glass. There was still much that needed to be said and feelings that needed to be revealed, but you felt no ill will toward Azriel. Not in the way he expected you to. 

Still, part of you felt a sense of betrayal. The Azriel from your memory had seemed so devoted to you, so sure that he would stop at nothing to rectify any distance between the two of you. And you had seen glimpses of that Azriel in this strange state you were in now, but some of that was missing. 

You were having a hard time balancing his fear with his love, but more signs pointed towards love. 

Didn’t they? 

It didn’t help that you were contemplating this alone in an empty room, leaving tracks in the carpet and stringing your body so tight a soreness had begun creeping up your heels. You huffed and sat on the bed instead, biting your nails. 

Azriel was your mate. 

He loved you. 

You’d heard him say it multiple times now, in more ways than just the explicit words. 

Hadn’t you? 

“Our souls are linked—mates I mean.” 

“Fuck, I miss you.” 

“Yes, my love?”

“You’re okay, angel. You’re okay.” 

“Y/n, spending time with you—being around you—it’s as natural as breathing for me.”

“You are the one sure thing in my life.”

You rose from the bed abruptly, your body making a decision before your mind. You flung the door open to “your” bedroom and walked approximately six steps to the next room. You had assumed Azriel was staying close after spotting his shadows beneath the door a few weeks back, and there was no denying it now. 

You rapt your knuckles against the wood three times, his door flinging open before you could go for a fourth. 

The shadowsinger looked frazzled, his hair askew and his sweats haphazardly thrown on. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” 

You ignored the clear panic in his tone as you asked, “Do you love me?” 

“What?” 

Taking advantage of the confusion and shock rendering him vulnerable, you swept under Azriel’s arm on the door and stood your ground in his room. You crossed your arms and bit the inside of your cheek as Azriel robotically shut the door and turned around to face you. 

“I asked if you love me,” you repeated. “I only have one memory back and you say we’re mates. I… I’m inclined to believe that you do. I think I’ve heard you say it but only when you think I can’t hear you and—” 

“I do,” Azriel hurriedly replied, remaining rooted by the door. “I do love you. I love you so much that I haven’t been able to help myself in those moments. You have heard me say it. I’ve been saying it to your back for weeks.” 

Your chest heaved, emotion weighing it down. “Were you only staying away out of fear?” 

“Yes,” Azriel confirmed. “And it hurt—being around you. I was a fool.” 

Shadows swirled beneath your feet. 

“This is just hard for me. I don’t really understand where I fit in here. I have this memory of you saying one thing and then—” 

“I know. I’m so sorry, my love.” 

You blinked at the unabashed way he addressed you.

Azriel did not flinch. 

Gnawing at your bottom lip, you unleashed the question that had been plaguing you since you began pacing two hours ago. 

“Do you love me when I’m like this? Even now?” 

Azriel deflated, the panic extinguishing from his body and his expression falling. He took two long strides to meet you across the room, his hands hovering over your arms for a moment before he shook his head and touched you—perhaps despite his better judgment, his fear. 

“I will love you until the day I die, y/n. Even if you cast me aside. Even if you have no idea who I am.” He winced and shut his eyes, giving into instinct and pressing his forehead to yours. “I love you and it hurts. And I would take that pain to the grave if it meant I still had the privilege of belonging to you in some way.” 

You brushed your hands up to wrap your fingers around his wrists, your eyes open while his remained shut—like it pained him to even speak the words.

You wanted to say something back—a reassurance, a reciprocation, anything. But everything that would come out of your mouth would be a half-truth. You loved him, but did you? Did you really love him yet, or did you just love the way he spoke to you and how he made you feel? Did you know enough about him in the context of your life to love him? And if you couldn’t say it back right now would he—

“Hey,” Azriel’s slow tone brought you back to the present, his gaze now soft upon yours. “I can feel your panic. It’s okay, y/n. You don’t need to say anything.” 

Your lips parted. “You can feel it? Like my power?”

“Not quite. Do you trust me?” 

“Of course I do.” 

A familiar jolt invaded your ribs, making you gasp at its resurgence. You didn’t feel it often, but it was always jarring when it happened. And it always seemed to happen most when you were scared or hurt or in danger. Putting the pieces together now…

“That’s you?” you gaped, rubbing below your ribs. Azriel leaned back, giving you some space with a small smile on his lips. 

“It is. You can do it back if you know where to find it.” 

“Even with my magic blocked? Right now I can't even sense anything. Not like I could earlier.”

“Try,” Azriel encouraged with a small nod. 

And so you did, closing your eyes and searching within you for something to pull on—anything to grasp. There was a lot of empty space, some areas overflowing with the new memories you’d made, but in a far corner, dim and dull, was a glowing thread. 

You reached for it and yanked, the action sparking a more fluorescent gold. 

Azriel let out a small gasp. The beautiful flow of his laughter followed, a melody of relief and joy intertwined. Your mate stared back at you, his eyes crinkled at the corners and allowed his smile to overtake his face. 

“It has been so long since I’ve felt you. The bond has been there, but it hasn’t felt alive. It hasn’t felt like you.” 

You let out a small giggle at the ridiculous-sounding notion. “What has it felt like?” 

“I get your most heightened emotions, but they feel dull. They’ve been missing something.” 

“You feel my emotions?” you marveled, looking inward once more to inspect the link between you. “Why don’t I feel yours?” 

“I believe you have a few times,” Azriel admitted. His wings had begun to unfurl from their uncomfortable cinch at his back. “I’ve tried to keep them closed off during all of this. I didn’t want you trying to wade through someone else’s feelings when you were already confused.” 

“Could you…open them back up?” 

Azriel shot you a dubious look, knocking his head to the side before he passed you to sit on the side of the bed. “I don’t know, y/n. I’ve been… feeling a lot. I don’t want to put that on you.” 

“I’ve been feeling a lot,” you shot back, coming to stand in front of his bent knees. “And you’ve been taking all of it.” 

“I’m used to feeling you. I welcome it.” 

You crossed your arms and raised a brow. “Didn’t we discuss this? I want to get used to feeling you, Azriel. I want my life back, memories or not.”

Azriel let out a sigh, pressing his fingers together between his knees. He bowed his head for a moment before staring back up at you with a defeated expression. His wings lay bare and open along the bed behind him. “I’m not going to win this one, am I?” 

“Do you want to?” 

Another small, defeated chuckle from your mate, and then something came alive within you, that golden thread singing, finally living up to its full potential. You had to brace yourself at the full force of it, your hand landing on Azriel’s bicep as you stumbled. He placed a hand on your back and your eyes fluttered as you parsed through this new feeling. 

You felt him. 

His fear, anger, and frustration; he was filled with so much sadness and longing, and the pain lingering in undertones was dull yet overwhelming at the same time. Each emotion fought for dominance. But there was something else pulsing down the bond, something intentionally sent. 

Adoration, love, devotion—you weren’t sure what to label it but it undermined all else. 

You laughed in disbelief, bringing your free hand up to cover your mouth. You felt the warmness of your face as you went. This was indescribable. 

“How is it?” Azriel asked. His thumb was rubbing circles into your spine. “Too much?” 

“No,” you were quick to reply. “No, Az, this is—wow, you weren’t kidding when you described mating bonds to me.” 

“I’m glad you approve,” he teased. “Tell me if you want me to close it.” 

The thought of losing this connection seemed unreasonably terrible. You shook your head and pressed closer to your mate, slotting your body in between his legs. 

You remained in comfortable silence for several minutes, relishing in the bond tethering you to each other. Eventually, you migrated to lean against his thigh as you fiddled with the material of his shirt, and the position felt the same as the one on the balcony—like it was yours to take.

“I’m going to ask you something and you have every right to say no,” Azriel said, breaking the silence that had blanketed the room. You nodded for him to continue. “Would you stay with me tonight? In here?” 

“To sleep?” you asked, surprise evident in your raised voice. 

Azriel huffed out a laugh, lightly nudging his nose against your cheek. “To sleep,” he confirmed. “Just, with the bond open like this, I would feel better if you were near me. If you aren’t comfortable with that, I completely understand. I can—” 

“Yes.” 

[fairydustblossom]

If It All Fell (9)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, pining

a/n: Thank you so much for sticking around. I had to reread this entire series to write this part and it made me remember how much I love sharing it with you all ♡ Italics indicate memories (oooooo👀).

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

One of the many downsides to losing your memory was your lack of card game knowledge. An inconsequential tidbit when you took a step back and evaluated the hardships that plagued you, but a fact that was currently causing you a massive headache and a massive loss, all the same. 

“This is just completely unfair,” you huffed, tossing your cards on the table and leaning back in your chair. “I can barely even remember what you said the rules were.” 

“Hardly my fault, sweetheart. I gave you a run down before we started,” Cassian slyly grinned. 

You scoffed. “There were over fifteen steps to this game! And I feel like you made up half of them!” 

“While that would definitely be something he’d pull,” Mor piped in, an accusatory glance in Cassian’s direction. “He’s innocent, this time. This is just a really complicated game.” 

“Oh yeah, great. Make the amnesiac play the complicated game so she’ll lose. That's really classy, Cassian. Great sportsmanship.” 

Cassian had the gall to look offended, a hand placed at his heart. “You used to be great at this game, I’ll have you know. You won every time. We banned you, actually.” 

“You banned me from playing a card game?” 

Azriel, who had been fighting off a laugh with his tongue against his cheek, spoke up from beside you. “Very strictly banned, as well. For the last hundred years. You’re lucky we’re letting you play now.” 

Your mouth dropped open in the most wounded expression you could manage, mirth dancing in your eyes as you turned your head to catch the shadowsinger’s blush-tinted cheeks. 

Things were… good between the two of you. The same, but good, mostly because you had refrained from even alluding to his mate. When you didn’t talk about her, or look at anything that might have belonged to her, or question Azriel on the sadness in his eyes, he stayed glued to your side. It was a wonderful friendship the two of you were cultivating—one built on one-sided secrets where the answers were locked in your brain. 

“What could I have possibly done to get banned from a card game for a hundred years?” you gaped.

Azriel’s wings rustled behind him, unfurling to cloak your back in warmth. He laughed. “You cheat.” 

“I cheat?” 

“I wouldn’t call it cheating, exactly,” Mor defended, sliding her cards face-down on the table in favor of the snack plate in the center. “Not when it’s not your fault.” 

“Bullshit!” Cassian exclaimed, fist coming down in a loud bang. “She knows how to control her magic. She chooses to use it during the game and that makes it cheating.” 

Mor pointed an accusing finger in Azriel’s direction. “And what about his shadows, then? You’ve never had a problem with him playing, oh great game warden.” 

Cassian narrowed his eyes as if looking at Azriel for the first time. “Brother, you cheat as well?” 

In the most jovial tone you’d heard Azriel take, he refuted, “I absolutely do not.” 

That had spiraled into another argument you were not part of, and you took the opportunity to pick your cards back up and attempt to run through the rules again. It was a game of chance, really, but it was also a game of wit and that wasn’t your strongest suit at the moment. 

Maybe if you tried a little bit harder—

“Okay, your turn, y/n,” Azirel called you out of your fruitless thoughts. “Just try to pick one.” 

Your lips twisted to the side as you examined your cards and looked up at your opponent. Cassian appeared quite average, no shifting eyes or telling sighs. He was very good at this game, allegedly. 

You flicked your eyes back down to your cards, but, no—something didn’t feel right about that. 

You looked back up at Cassian, and something shifted. 

Something… seemed off. Like he was—

“You’re lying,” you stated as if it were a well-known fact. “You’re lying so hard right now. So that means I should take this and…” 

Your last words trailed off as you slapped a pair of cards on the table. You looked up to Cassian with a smug expression, the general narrowing his eyes and swiping his own cards aside. He scoffed, and then scoffed again, the second time paired with his arms across his chest. 

“Yeah? And how would you know?” he challenged. 

Your head jutted back in disbelief. You gazed around the table but none of your opponents offered the same look. “Are you kidding? It’s practically pouring off of you.” 

“What is?” Azriel softly asked. 

“His lie!” you exclaimed, hands raised in shock. 

“How so?” Mor posed. 

“All around him.” You shook your hand in the direction of the General, making some form of a circle. “He’s just a terrible liar and you can see it. I thought you all said he was undefeated?” 

“I was,” Cassian huffed out with a laugh. “Against everyone other than you.” 

His words sobered up your competitive mood, the rest of the table having come to a conclusion you only just realized. Azriel sat beside you with bated breath, tenseness apparent in the coil of his wings and shadows. Mor tried and failed to hide her smile behind her lips. Cassian didn’t even attempt to hide; his smile was vibrant without a hint of defeat. 

“Does this mean—” 

“Yes!” Mor gave a small cheer. “Something is happening in that beautiful brain of yours and you’re coming back to us!”

Coming back to them. 

As if you weren’t sitting right there. 

“We should ask her questions,” Cassian boomed with another laugh. “See what else is in there.” 

“Oh! We should. Think of something, Cass.” 

“What about…” 

The air around you felt suffocating as those at the table began talking as if you weren’t there. Any joy you felt at the revelation was washed, evaporated—creating a somber resolve that made your skin feel dull. 

“Maybe ask her things associated with her magic. Maybe that’s coming through first,” Mor offered. Walnut shells and wine glasses lay empty and scattered beside discarded cards. 

“I don’t think—” Azriel’s response was muted by a buzzing in your ears. 

It would never be enough. You were a full person sitting before them, but you weren’t. You weren’t the person they expected—not the person they wanted. You had been stuck in this limbo for weeks now, living under pitying eyes and hopeful half-smiles that never met their eyes. Secrets were kept because they hoped you—the real you—would eventually return and save them from sharing the hard things. 

You blinked away the dryness in your eyes. 

“We should get Rhys. He might find an opening now that her magic is—” 

“I’m right here,” you interrupted, the gravel of your tone barely audible below Cassian’s excited tone. The table fell silent, anyway. “I don’t know why you all insist on speaking about me and not to me.” 

Mor’s voice was still light as she replied, “Y/n, we don’t mean—” 

“You don’t mean what?” you laughed, the sound bordering hysterical. You caught Azriel turning his head down towards you in your peripheral. You ignored it. “You don’t mean to make me feel like half a person? Like a ghost? Because I’m right here and I have been for weeks but you all are so concerned with what I’m going to be in some undetermined amount of time that you seem to forget I’m alive now.” 

Cassian’s lips parted to speak, but words continued to spill from your mouth. “I mean, I wasn’t even allowed to know about most of my life until recently. You all expect me to get better instantly, making decisions and keeping secrets as if this isn’t part of my life—as if when I get my memories back… if I get them back… all these weeks will just disappear.

“But I’ve been here,” you stressed. Your fingers were tingling and your neck felt hot. “I’ve been here and all of you—you all talk over my head. I finally get some semblance of myself back and all you can think about is what more I can do. You don’t care about me. You care about some version of me that I’ve never met.” 

You rose from the table, hands coming down harshly as you stood. Mor quickly mimicked your action, but you held a hand up, dismissing the person who had been your safe space at the start of this mess—at the start of your memory, really. 

“I need—I need,” you choked. Dim colors and minute vibrations emanated from each person in the room, making your head hurt as you looked at them. You didn’t have the capacity to analyze that development. “I need to be alone.” 

You heard yourself mutter an apology as you went, unsure what exactly it was for. Your feet stumbled out of the room, getting stuck in cracks and shuffling on marble flooring. A small prickle of embarrassment made you flinch as you went, but it was nothing compared to the harrowing emptiness that guided you out to the balcony. 

Maybe it would be better if you spent your time alone—at least until you got your memories back. You loved being around everyone, but even that was a half-truth. You hadn’t even met everyone that was supposed to be in your life.

Gripping the railing of the balcony, you sucked in a deep breath, greedy for any kind of reprieve. A soft wind met the heat of your cheeks, but it did little to soothe you. If you could just become who they wanted you to be… if you could just know everything they wanted you to know. 

Everything felt like too much. 

You had so little to go off of, but somehow that was to your detriment. 

You thought the first sign of your old self would have been a cause for celebration, but instead, it was only a call for more. More, more, more—you weren’t enough now. 

You heard your name in the wind, a soft sound that carried delicately past your ears. For reasons you could not place, the single word sent anger pulsing in your veins. 

You whipped around, unsurprised to see Azriel standing beneath the archway to the house, his expression unguarded and his shadows reaching and reaching and reaching towards you. 

He seemed to recoil at your furious gaze. 

“What?” you asked, still breathless from the way panic had taken control of your chest. “What, Azriel?” 

But words seemed to fail him as he stood there. He blinked more than necessary, shaking his head and then righting it, unsure of the direction he wanted to take. 

It infuriated you. 

“What could you have to say?” you instigated, and the harsh words made you sick. “You of all people treat me as a stranger. You say we’re close—that we are the closest of anyone—but you keep secrets, Azriel. You keep secrets and you make it impossible to get to know you. What happens if I never get my memory back, huh?”

The notion of that reality set the Shadowsinger into motion. “Don’t say that,” he almost begged, desperation lost behind gritted teeth. “We are still looking—” 

“Would it be that terrible for you? Truly, Azriel. You slink around me, afraid to share things I don’t even know are there! How am I—What am I supposed to do if this is just me now?” You tugged at your hair as frustration captured your voice. You hadn’t meant to say any of this, hadn’t planned on even hinting at your displeasure, but something snapped today. 

Something snapped and there was nothing you could do to cope with the breakage. Because you were a stranger to everyone—most of all yourself. 

“That won’t happen,” Azriel attempted to reassure, taking small steps towards your pacing figure. “We are going to figure this out and everything will be—” 

“It won’t!” 

You screamed. 

You hadn’t meant to. 

Azriel stopped in his tracks. 

“It won’t be fine, Azriel.” Back to a normal volume, your voice sounded hoarse. “I can’t keep living like this—like a ghost. It’s been weeks and there are no leads. All I have now is this hint of my powers that I’m not even sure how to parse out. They don’t make sense. None of this makes sense.” 

Your eyes were glued to your feet as Azriel’s words broke at the syllables. “I know.” 

“None of you will want me if I can’t be her.” 

“I will always want you,” he was quick to respond. 

When you raised your head, the stray tears held captive by your waterline fell. Azriel stared back at you in earnest but it felt incomplete. 

“You keep things from me still,” you said, words thick in your throat. “It’s like you’re waiting for her—for someone else. With Mor and them, it’s different. It feels different with you.”

Azriel whispered a broken rendition of your name. The color you saw reflecting from his shoulders was sharp against the backdrop of the dark house, and you had no idea its significance, but something within you told you it wasn’t going to get you what you so desperately wanted. 

“Stop,” you begged, chin wobbling. “Stop… formulating what you’re going to say to me. This is worse, now that I have my magic. I see your every indecision around me.” 

Azriel’s expression pinched and the color fizzled out as he stepped forward and held your face in his textured hands. Your anger dissipated as he titled your head up to meet his gaze, replaced by the uncertainty that often mingled with regret when he was near. 

What you were regretting, you didn’t know. 

“You are the one sure thing in my life,” he confessed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel this way—that we all have. I—I have been keeping something from you. I’ve been afraid it would be too much, that I would lose you if you knew. But I’m only losing you now.” 

You gave no reply, unblinking, short breaths escaping you. 

Azriel licked his lips and slid his hands down until his thumbs rested along your jaw. 

“You have asked about my mate.” Discomfort panged within your chest as he spoke, but you needed to hear this. Azriel closed his eyes for a pause, brows furrowed, before he met your eye once more. “It’s you.” 

Your shock came second to the blinding pain creeping up your neck. It fought with you, edging closer and closer to your brain before it fell behind your eyes and shattered all comprehensible thought. Another beat and hazel eyes were lost to darkness. 

You heard your name, felt your body go slack and arms brace your fall, but then there was laughing. You were laughing, but the sound wasn’t coming from your body. 

“We have to go back,” you heard yourself admonish in a breathless tone. “They’re all waiting for us.” 

“Let me be alone with my wife for a while longer.” 

Figures materialized in the dark space of your mind.

A purple dress. 

A ring around your finger. 

Flowers woven into the lapel of a jacket. 

“I have only been your wife for about….” you saw yourself gaze up to the ceiling of a room you did not recognize in feigned contemplation. “An hour?” 

Azriel bit back a grin and nuzzled his face into your neck. “But you have been my mate for my entire life.” 

“That’s not even true. It snapped a few months ago.”

You stood in the corner of the room as the scene unfolded, feeling like a stranger in some iteration of your life. You looked so at ease, wrapped up in the man who had caused you so much inner turmoil over the last few weeks. 

He had said you were mates. 

Was this…

“That’s not how mates work, my love,” Azriel hummed closing the distance between the skin of your cheek and his lips. “When we were created, we were created for each other. There has never been a time in my life that I did not belong to you.” 

You watched yourself smile—watched yourself curl your fingers in your mate’s hair and press your forehead to his. “Gods, you’re the biggest sap.” 

Azriel laughed. The sound was light and free and everything you had sought after these past few weeks. But you heard it here as he laid with you in his arms. 

“I can’t believe you married me,” he whispered, his nose brushing yours. 

“Of course I married you.” 

A pause. 

“Do you think you would have married me if things hadn’t worked out—after Day I mean.” 

From the corner of the room, you analyzed how your body seemed to recoil at the question. 

“Azriel, nothing could have kept me from you. Not even that monster from Day. If I hadn’t gotten my memory back—if I had to live with forgetting you—” Azriel shuddered, taking a long breath through his nose. You only brushed your fingers softly against his temple. “—I would have found you again. It probably would have been a pain in the ass to get me to listen but…” 

Azriel scoffed and pulled you closer. “You’re already a pain in my ass.” 

“That was the goal.” 

Another soft round of laughter. 

You felt like an intruder, flinching at the gleam of the ring on Azriel’s finger, hesitant to gaze around the room you had no recollection of. By the door, you could hear others in the hall. You made out Cassian and Mor’s voices, but others sparked no recognition within you. Curiosity pulled you in that direction, but before you could touch the doorknob, Azriel spoke again. 

“You wouldn’t have had to find me.” He paused. “I never would have left your side.”

And then the scream of your name woke you. 

[fairydustblossom]

a ballad of flame and shadow part seven

pairings - lucien vanserra x rhysands sister!reader, azriel x rhysand's sister!reader.

summary - she sees lucien once more, during his hunt for feyre, and finally let's herself reunite with azriel, but it all comes to a stop at yet another blow to the family.

word count - 2.2k

a/n - man. not my favorite chapter i'll admit. but i do like the next one alot. also when i started this i really was not going to write lucien like that. i was going to give their relationship more like umph...but my heart lies with azriel...so what's done is done. i also just...my little babies with communication issues thats what they all are...like someone has to contrast rhys who never shuts the fuck up.

read the rest of the series here!

She hated the Illyrian training camps. Couldn’t stomach the thought of them. She accompanied the group and stayed for introductions, but left with Rhysand and Feyre to train. 

Even that was unbearble to her. The feelings both Feyre and Rhysand refused to talk about sent her eyes rolling. But what was harder for her was Rhysand’s retelling of their history. When he started to tell Feyre of the reason, the true reason, for their tension with Tamlin…She just couldn’t stomach it. She didn’t want to relive the violence. The pain of having family ripped away from her. 

She departed and let herself wander through the woods. Feyre watched her go and looked towards Rhysand for explanation, 

“She’s okay. She just..She’ll still come with us tomorrow. She just needs time.” 

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

The next day she pushed deeper into the woods. Ignoring the cold that was biting her uncovered skin. Ignoring the branches snagging on her clothes and her hair. Ignoring the group that was trailing behind her. She felt like something was wrong. 

It hit her then. The smell of him. Crisp like the first temperature fall of autumn. Burning like flickering embers. She was on high alert. Looking through the trees for any sight of that wave of auburn hair she knew all too well. She tried to send message to the others. Of the approaching threat. But nothing seemed to get through. If Rhys had heard her silent warning he sent no response back. 

Her name floated towards her, on a wind approaching her back. She turned to see who had snuck up on her. 

Lucien. 

Tall as ever. Draped in warm brown leathers of spring court. Hunting weapons at his side. She studied him. Not daring to speak. Seeing him for the first time since that Calanmai all those years ago. Since their argument. Since her small betrayal. No, not a betrayal. Azriel was not a betrayal. It was more than that. 

They stared at eachother. Unmoving. Neither daring to speak. She wasn’t who he was looking for. But he should have known. He should have known that she would be with them. He should have figured that Rhys would send her to accompany Feyre. Keep it in the family, that’s what they always did. He should have known. 

He repeated her name. Once more. Slowly. Softly. As if she was an animal he didn’t want to spook. He took a feeble step towards her. 

She looked good. Tired and weary. But just as beautiful as she had been the day she left him. 

She did a quick and not so subtle survey of his unmasked face. She’d almost let herself forget just how stunning he was. But for all his sharp featured beauty, she found herself craving the sight of something else. Of someone else. Someone darker and quieter. It was like looking at Lucien alone was a crime against her feelings. 

He had a million things he knew he should say to her. He knew he should apologize for the harsh words he’d flung at her. For the blame he’d levied against her all those years. But he just couldn’t. He’d spent their time away from each other going over every single scrap of memory he had of her. Remembering how she’d only come to him when it was clear she was trying to escape something else. How she’d leave immediately after. How she’d offer him small smiles and always always keep a part of herself tucked away from him. Like she was unwilling to let him love her. Like it would mean going against everything she stood for. 

Centuries of contempt. On either side of their families. And he thought they could ignore that for so long. But looking at her now. Wearing Illyrian leathers, a small silver necklace around her neck with a jewel that looked all too familiar to him, a picture of Night Court royalty. A picture of everything that Tamlin stood against, that he stood against. 

“What are you doing here?” 

Her words were a sharp knife of something accusatory. He didn't bother lying.

“Feyre has to come back. Tamlin…he-” 

“I don’t care. I don’t care what he’s feeling.” 

He sighed. On opposite ends of an old feud once more. 

“You don’t have to make this difficult. That bargain….she has to come back. It’s been months.” 

She let out a small laugh, “What makes you think she’d want to? After everything he did?” 

He took another step closer to her. Trying to tug on whatever tied them together still. 

“He made a mistake, you of all people should be able to understand that?” 

She narrowed her eyes at him, “What is that supposed to mean Lucien?” 

They were inches apart now. 

“I remember someone, who in her rage, tore down entire armies, alone, during the war.” 

Her eyes sparked with anger at the sheer mention of who she had been during the war. Who she had been forced to be to protect her family. Her voice was seething as she responded, 

“You know nothing Lucien Vanserra.” 

He winced. She never failed to bring about his family name whenever she pulled her walls up. An easy way to drive him away. An easy way to rip any morsel of peace from a moment. Even if she was right. Even if he hadn’t been around to fight in the first war. He heard stories, from Tamlin mostly, about her anger. Her power. That brought soldiers to their knees in defeat, to wait for their death. It was another way for Tamlin to try and dissuade him from having anything to do with her. He continued steadily,

“I remember someone who after the war, withdrew into herself so severely her brother thought she’d never return fully. I remember someone who came to me, to do her job, and instead let me try and piece her back together.” 

He shouldn’t have said it. Shouldn’t have given himself that much credit. Shouldn’t have brought up the way she let herself boil in her own thoughts when she didn’t know what else to do. Shouldn’t have pointed out the inherent darkness that simmered in her. 

She started to turn away. Done with the conversation. Not wanting to give him any more ammunition. He called after her, 

“Loyalty over all else huh?” 

He let the question slip out with a hint of completely humourless laughter. She whipped back around, her response dripping with a biting venom. 

“Over what? Whatever was between you and me? What did you think that was exactly?” 

He winced, “Something more than this.” 

He motioned between them. At the space between them. As if it perfectly represented the anger and the pain that flowed between them. As if those couple feet of distance represented their years long entanglement so easily broken. 

“More than what? A pretty distraction?” 

He let her statement wash over him. 

“I’ve always had the bad habit of letting myself get distracted by beautiful things” 

There had always been some truth to it. Was that all she was? A distraction? From what he thought the night court held. From those she held close to her, that he could never bring himself to trust. He thought that she was an exception, from the rest of them, from Rhysand’s inner circle. But she never had been. He had tried not to think of what exactly he was distracting her from.

“Is that what I was to you?” 

The way she had used him to forget the shadows she craved. The way she had sought out his blazing heat and warm light to burn away any shadowy blue itch that raced its way through her very bloodstream. The way it was always so easy to let herself fall into the teasing tone of his voice, the vibrant beauty of him. So much easier than working up the nerve accept what her soul tugged her towards. 

“I don’t know. I don’t what you were. What you ARE.” 

That much was true. The male she looked at now. Pleading and blinded by loyalty to his friend. Refusing to acknowledge what was really happening. Letting himself be led to believe things about Feyre and her family that were so blaringly false. Letting Tamlin’s whispers, poison his very being. Poison the good that she once saw in him. How she hoped it was still there. Simmering under the surface, under the fear. His shoulders slumped. He looked at her begging, 

“Please” 

He knew he shouldn’t say it. Shouldn’t weaponize their past against her. Not after everything that has happened between them in the years past. The silence and the resentment. The way it had pushed her to someone else. But he couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t go back to Spring court with nothing. 

“If you have..if you had..any care for me…at all..Tell me where she is.”

She bristled with indignance. Hurt etched through her every feature. 

“That’s low Lucien…Even for you.” 

She heard a rustle in the trees behind her. Whipping around to see Feyre. Rhysand and the others nowhere in sight. Where the hell are they? Kicking rocks or something? She thought to herself as she stared horrified at the girl who had stumbled across them. 

Feyre’s eyes flickered between the two standing in front of her. She took in Lucien’s pleading expression, Rhysand’s sister turning to look at her. 

“No” 

It was all the raven haired fae in front of her could say before Feyre’s training crashed over her. She pulled an arrow tight against her bow’s drawstring and uttered one thing to Rhysand’s sister, 

“Get Rhys.” 

Before turning towards Lucien, her eyes steeling into something cold and angry. 

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

She winnowed directly to Rhysand’s side, grabbing his arm. Her eyes searching her brothers face, she was out of breath, trying to figure out exactly what to tell him. 

“Lucien.” 

Was all she said. Rhysand’s eyes flashed before he grabbed her and they raced through the woods, back to his mate. Praying she would still be there by the time they found her. 

By the time they got back to the stream, back to where Feyre was surrounded, all she saw was Lucien lunge for the sleeve of Feyre’s jacket. Feyre turning into smoke and ash and night and reappear behind Lucien’s sentinels. Rhysand now standing at Feyre’s side. 

She hung back, partly because she was no longer needed, and partly because she couldn’t bear to let herself fall into Lucien’s sight line again. She let herself draw nearer, slowly, as they started to speak. Lucien still begging her to come home.

“And I suppose the Night Court is so much better?” 

His eyes fell to hers once more. Looking past Feyre at the female he once thought he could love. 

Feyre’s voice was low and quiet. Vicious as the wings weighing between her shoulder blades, “When you spend so long trapped in darkness, Lucien, you find that the darkness begins to stare back.” 

────────────── ⋆✩⋆ ──────────────

She went with her brother and Feyre to a small inn and tried to pretend she didn’t notice them go upstairs together. She wasn’t able to sleep a wink all night, instead she paced around the street outside. Debating whether or not she could stomach staying. She could not. She went back home the next morning without a word to Rhys and Feyre, deciding to give the pair some space. Deciding that she needed space herself. From the entire situation. From the clearing in the woods where she had seen Lucien. Spoken to him after all those years, with nothing but sharp and low insults whipped between them. 

When she returned to the townhouse, dusk had fallen, all she wanted to do was crash into her bed and sleep. But when she stepped into her room, she found Azriel waiting for her. Like he knew. Like he felt the turmoil raging in her from wherever he was. She stopped dead in her tracks and looked at him. A storm of emotion waged war behind his eyes. His shadows lay heavy throughout the room. 

When you spend so long trapped in darkness you find that the darkness begins to stare back. 

Her only salvation during Amarantha’s reign. Her only comfort in her years of morose silence. Whether it was physical or just the presence of him. Her only comfort, like he knew her darkness well, like he was forged from it, and he alone knew the way out. The way towards starry skies. 

“I-”

She stopped before she could say it. Like it got lodged in her throat. 

“I know” Was all he said as he pulled her body flush against his, and kissed her for the first time in years. 

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When she awoke the next morning he wasn’t next to her. The bed beside her was cold and she frowned and slowly made herself stand and dress. Disappointment washing over her in frigid waves at his absence. She trailed downstairs, wondering how exactly she was going to face him when she returned to the camp. 

He was waiting for her downstairs. Pacing in front of the door, as if he had been waiting for hours, too afraid to wake her, but too anxious to sleep himself. 

“Rhys is hurt.” 

His statement sent a sharp arrow of anxiety through her chest. Everything from the night before faded away. The warmth of him. The unspoken promise of it. That golden thread that she had almost been ready to let herself acknowledge curling back around her ribs. Tight and unmovable. 

There never seemed to be time for them.

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