#[OC] Thorne | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

redheadspark · 1 year ago

Text

Miss

Summary - Azriel missed you on his latest mission, and he shows you how much he has missed you

Warnings - SMUT SMUT SMUT! This is a SMUT one piece, NO MINORS FROM HERE ON OUT!

A/N - I am no SMUT writer, apologies in advance!

You were right at the peak, beyond close to tipping over and having that euphoria of pleasure consume you once again for the fifth time that night. But then again, you were wishing not to let go just yet, this was the right amount of pleasure that was now wrapping around your bones and consuming you from the inside out. All thanks to the Illyrian Spymaster above you who was taking his sweet time fucking you.

This was his game: the game of Azriel the Shadowsinger of Night Court.

All you could breathe was Azriel, all you could feel was Azriel, and all you could ever experience was Azriel. There was no doubt that this was the best kind of drug that you could ever consume and need in your face life, even after 300 hundred years together as mates. Azriel snuck into your life, someone you never saw coming when you were introduced by Mor. There was no instant explosion of lust, nor was it bone dry and unfeeling. It felt like you were slipping into a warm bath, your muscles unwinding instantly and a sigh of relief on your lips as you two shook hands for the first time. Although you were friends at first, you both knew deep down that you were going to be connected in some way.

It only took a few years after meeting and building your friendship to feel the bond take place. From there on out, it was game over.

Azriel never stopped his hips, his toned muscles along his backside were working on overdrive as he was having over you while fucking you with such precision laced with intimacy and devotion, it was almost tooth aching. But this was how Azriel worked when you two were in the throws of pleasure, going in right for the kill at the very beginning and then taking his time later on. His patience in giving you pleasure could not be measured by any other, though you were not one to complain at all. If he could, he could keep you on edge for hours on end and still have the drive to make you come undone within seconds.

Azriel was good at this game, and you would let him win every time.

"Oh fuck, my love," He growled against your cheek as his hips were still rolling. Your legs were parted easily, sore for being spread for some time but now the feeling now a dull ache. Just feeling his toned muscles and body against your own was enough for you to forget your thighs that were shaking. His arms braced your head as your arms clung to his shoulders, feeling a bit of his wings as they were tucked against his back. He kissed your cheek a few times as you were holding on for dear life, hearing him murmur, "I don't think I can ever stop,"

"Fuck…fuck don't stop," You moaned and pleaded as he gave a few hard thrusts, having your eyes roll back as his smile against your jaw was evident.

"I won't ever leave you that long ever again," He swore, engraining it in your skin as you bit your lower lip and moved one of your hands to run into his sweaty locks, "It was too….fuck…too long away from you, from being able to touch you like this…"

As if on cue, he moved one of his hands from being near your head to rubbing your clit, having you moan loudly and curl into him as the pleasure was now heightened to the tenth degree. You were putty in his hands, and Azriel smirked from feeling you shake once his thumb rubbed your clit slowly and deliberately.

You both knew you needed this night together, Azriel being away for almost an entire month thanks to Rhysand and his need for Azriel and his Spymaster ability. Rhysand was on a tour of sorts to the other Courts, his own way of keeping peace with the other High Lords and going over the treaties that were signed. Rhsyand was more than willing to go on his own, not letting High Lady Feyre come nor their own Nyx. Feyre was running Night Court without him and Nyx was too young. If left him having both Cassian and Azriel come along with him, Cassian talking to other army commanders in other courts, and Azrile being a second pair of eyes and ears in those meetings.

You were left alone from your mate for that long month, keeping busy and helping your High Lady. But you weren't going to lie and say you didn't miss your mate, his company with you, your talks together, and most of all, the intimacy with him. There was no doubt you two had a healthy sex life, a very healthy one at that. The jokes from Rhysand and Cassian about Azriel and his high energy in bed were always evident when you and Azriel just got together, though you never let it affect you.

But you knew those rumors were true when you and Azriel first slept together.

"Azriel…Az please.." You mewled as his thumb was still rubbing your clit and his hips were still going at a constant cadence that was both filthy and yet touching at the same time. Azriel knew how to fuck and he fucked well, no matter how many times you two were together like this, he made your heart soar and your moans sound lethal. This night was no different, Azriel starting off the night instantly as you two made it back to your penthouse home in the city. Azriel left his hesitance at the door, perching you on the edge of the kitchen island as he sank to his knees and dived in between your legs within seconds. Shaking and moaning with no shame, you felt yourself cumming within two minutes of him licking into your pussy with just his tongue alone. Watching your orgasm and your shake on the counter drew more desire from him, his chin still glistening from your release as he then licked his own fingers to have a second round with you.

Another four minutes, you came from his fingers. Azriel was only warming up.

"Please what, my love?" He asked as he watched your eyes dilated and your lips parted in pleasure as he was still pounding into you slowly and with deep precision, "There is no way I can be done with you when you look and feel like this, beyond words," He lightly bit your jawline as you huffed and bit your lower lip, "I can't get enough of you, ever. Nothing else has ever come close in my love, and I don't want anything else,"

You moaned, both from his words and how on edge you were. He nuzzled into your cheek for a brief moment, breathing in your scent that was mixed with sex as he leaned back to be sitting on his legs. Seeing you sprawled on your satin sheets, a gift from Rhysand on your wedding day, blissed out in pleasure with your hair plastered to your neck and cheeks and your eyes wide in love, Azriel thought you were heavenly. His cock was still nestled deep inside of you, your pussy aching both in intense pleasure and lust as he drank in the sight of you. He wanted this picture for the rest of his days, Inca se he had to go away again and think of you deep in the night for him to have something to come back to.

This night alone was memorable, fucking you against the shower wall as the water went cold against his back, then taking you from behind on the bathroom floor moments after turning off the water in the shower. Which led to you two tangled on your bed, you riding him with a new core of desire in your belly. But this, being pinned under Azriel as he was relentlessly fucking you into the mattress, was beyond words and made you feel like you were floating out of your body.

Azriel was a pro at this.

"Cauldron, you're breathtaking," He hummed in lust as he was watching you while still perched over you, his cock rock hard inside your pussy as you lazily grinned. You were still on edge, but that ache was nothing new for you in how he would draw this out for as long as he could to make your orgasm mind-numbingly amazing. You reached up with one spare hand, Azriel then leaning down to have you cradle his face with your palm. But your fingers were near his lips, you tracing his Lowe lips to feel how plump they were and you moaned.

"Gods you're divine," You moaned as his hazel eyes drilled into your own. Without breaking eye contact, he opened his mouth to let two of your fingers slip into his mouth lustfully. His tongue along your digits, with the wicked grin on his face, was enough to make you scream as his hips were moving again. It was such a site, Azriel fucking you deeply and with new pent-up energy as he was sucking your fingers made you teeter on edge all over again. You were so close, the feeling there along your spine and under your eyes as you were now babbling at him, knowing it was a turn-on for him to hear you moan and whimper his name.

"Fuck me…please fuck me….make me cum….make me cum. Now, Az. Now….I wanna cum…" You were repeating it like a mantra as he was drilling his hips again and again. Nothing else was in your head, only the love you had for Azriel and how much he cherished you in his life. He placed you first in all his choices and decisions as a Spymaster, choosing the less threatening missions and fights just to keep himself safe to come home to him. How he loved you with both his words and his actions whenever he could. Azriel felt as if you two being mates was fate for him, meant to be, and nothing would change that for him in his mind. Not even the Cauldron itself would take you away from him.

And watching you orgasm, howling in pure pleasure and euphoria was enough for Azriel to also fall over the edge. He felt himself empty inside of you, the sense of love and relief all over his body as his wings shot out in the moment of him summing. The release, the new layer of love that was unleashed with the both of you, made Azriel almost float to the sky if he could.

He would choose you over anything, over anyone, in this lifetime or beyond.

Finally feeling boneless, he collapsed on top of you and held you close, still deep inside of you but not wishing to lose that connection anytime soon. Holding you close, he breathed you in as your fingers were tracing his arms with the tips of your fingers. Azriel held you like a jewel, delicately and with possession at the same time, while his lips were pecking along your neck and shoulder. No matter how many times you two would fuck, there was still the foundation of you two loving each other.

Loving each other through the highs of your life and the lows. Through the tragedies and the joy. Azriel loved you with everything in him, you grinning against his head as you finally found your voice.

"If you intended on giving me the best sleep, then you have done well, my love," You said against his forehead. Ariel laughed, the vibration of his laughter was against your neck as he held you a pinch tighter.

"You bring this side of me out in the best way," He cooed, then moved his head up to be eye to eye with you as your gaze on him lingered with affection. He paused, looking you over and feeling the sensation of peace between the two of you. Even in the tossed sheets and deep in the night, you both were back to the solid foundation of your love together.

"I've missed you so," He whispered to you, making your heart flutter as he nuzzled your nose with his.

"Not as much as I missed you," You hummed back, ruffling his hair as he leaned in to kiss you.

The End

4K notes · View notes

brownsolas · 18 days ago

Text

Rook Questionnaire

inspired by @cassieuncaged's BG3 Character Development Questions but for Rook instead!

1: Where in the Thedas is your Rook from?

2: What is your character's alignment?

3: Race and subclass?

4: If your Rook was a companion, where would they be found?

5: What emotion did they usually pick?

6: What companion are you platonically close with?

7: Romantically close with?

8: Who are they suspicious of?

9: Does your Rook get along with their chosen Faction?

10: Are they proficient in playing any instruments?

11: Weapon of choice?

12: What is their orientation?

13: What are their thoughts on killing? Is it a necessary evil or do they enjoy it?

14: What hobbies does your Rook have?

15: What NPCs do they like? Which one's do they dislike?

16: Do they have a favorite creature in the Thedas?

17: Do they enjoy life as an adventurer?

18: What would your Rook be doing if they weren't recruited by Varric?

19: How do you think they'll meet their end?

20: Would they side with Solas or fight him?

21: What is your Rook's favorite ability?

22: What languages is your character fluent in?

23: What do they do after an absolute crisis?

24: Does your character believe in the afterlife?

25: What specialization best represents your Rook?

26: What animal best represents your Rook?

27: What was their life like before the events of Veilguard?

28: Is your character the de facto leader of the party? Or do they consider someone else to be the leader?

29: If you could choose a different faction for your Rook, which one would they have joined and why?

30: What's your favorite thing about your Rook?

840 notes · View notes

acotarxreader · 6 months ago

Text

Other Worlds

Azriel x reader

Synopsis: Nesta accidentally pulls you from our realm into theirs and a certain Spymaster can't help but be enamoured.

Original Request: "So I was wondering if you could do like Reader is from the modern world but ends up in the ACOTAR world, and ends up like falling in love with one of batboys."

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of cuts from a fall, my silly wordplay

A/N: I loved writing this, it really had me in my silly sense of humor (at one point Azriel is jealous because he thinks Xanax is a person) and just like also so happy to have written my first request! I hope you like it Anon and tolerate my silliness.

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

“Do you think she’s dead?”

“Hard to say, you fall that height and would expect it” Nesta gently rocked the body back and forth with the sole of her shoe and you groaned.

“This is exactly why you shouldn’t practice without Amren Nesta” Feyre bit out.

“And how was I supposed to know that a human would fall out of the sky? And besides, I did catch her before she hit the ground” Feyre gave a huff to her sister’s bored tone.

“But not before all the trees Nesta”

“Details, details”

“Rhys is gonna kill you, we have to move her before he finds out” Feyre got level with your marbling body, sticks and leaves sticking out of your hair from your fall through the canopy above. Nesta folded her arms across her chest in protest as Feyre rolled you onto your back, a deep whimper escaping your throat.

“Well she’s not dead”

“For now” Nesta raised an amused eyebrow before rolling her eyes and squatting to lift your feet as Feyre caught your shoulders with her own disapproving look.

“Her clothes are so odd, is it continent fashion?”

“Hard to say, the material on her legs is so…dense?” Nesta replied, a thumb rolling over the cuff of your jeans, your Doc Marten burying into her sternum.

The two sisters carried your weak body through the hillside towards the cabin they had retreated to for a break from the Illyrians. They reached the humble home after a small uphill climb in the Winter air and gently placed you down on the couch again. The two stood then at the foot of the couch, unsure of what to do next with their new house guest, a thud from outside followed by a swear interrupting their thoughts.

“Shit it's Azriel with the food supplies you forgot”

“You forgot” Feyre returned

“Whatever, here help me cover her” The two sisters sheathed you in a thick woollen blanket as Azriel pushed through the door causing the females to shoot straight up, standing shoulder to shoulder to try to hide you behind them.

“Hey, I dropped a bottle of liquor on the path sor- what are you two doing?” he looked suspiciously at the two, plopping the crate of food down by the mouth of the door.

“Nothing!” their heads snapped to one another at the same time, cursing their simultaneous reply.

“You two have the same look on your face that Cassian had when he was trying to hide the blood ruby he got from Summer Court after his experiment with arson” he gave a laugh that turned nervous when the females didn’t do the same, another almost panicked glance shared between them.

“Well if that’s all Az, thanks for coming” Feyre made a quick movement to Azriel, catching his shoulders and turning him back towards the door, Nesta taking a wide stance to try to obscure more of you.

“Fucking hell” your voice rattled out in pain as you pushed to sit up, the wool sinking down to your lap as your heavy hand found your bleeding head. Azriel’s eyes grew to nearly the width of his skull as he looked frantically between Nesta and Feyre.

“She did it!” they said in unison again, pointing to one another.

“Oh Rhys is going to kill you” he whispered angrily, moving to the couch as Nesta sidestepped, throwing an anxious look at Feyre.

“Whe-re the fuck a-m I? What happ-ened?” your hand traced through your thick hair, branches catching in the locks. You squeezed your eyes together tightly, trying to bring the cozy cabin into focus before swinging your legs to the ground and supporting your weight with one arm. Your movement went entirely still as you looked up to find the three members of the Night Court staring at you with matching bewilderment.

“Am-am I dead?” Your stare landed on Azriel’s wings, conclusions forming quickly.

“No unfortunately not” Feyre elbowed Nesta into the ribs as Azriel analysed your whole figure with his hazel eyes, his shadows swirled around his feet until they wrapped around yours. Your shriek of pure terror caused them to dash back to their master.

“You're okay!” Azriel tried but it was too late, you were in full panic mode, your system shutting down in utter distress until you felt your blood pressure hit the soles of your feet after hitting the ceiling, sending you into a loss of consciousness.

“Nice going you big bat, you killed her” Azriel gave a dirty look towards Nesta, her eyes rolling for the thousandth time that day.

“Send for Madja-”

“-Rhys will kill Nesta for this”

“Well I think her little magic trick will die without her” Feyre folded her arms into her chest, weighing up the options.

“We could give her the tonic that's here, let her heal without everyone gawking at her at home. I’ll go back with Nesta and explain, by the time we’re here again perhaps she’ll be healed and Amren will be home from her travels and can send her back”

“And am I supposed to play healer Feyre?”

“Well you have more experience with healing because of the battlefield than us and besides, Nesta isn’t known for her bedside manner” Azriel sighed before rubbing a hand across his face at Feyre’s logic, she showed him how you got here in his head to help her point.

“Okay fine, go but if she dies, I’m not to blame” They nodded in agreement, taking another look at your floppy body before heading for the door with their things, kicking the box of supplies out of the way.

Azriel lifted your legs slowly back onto the couch before fetching a dish full of mountain water and healing tonic. He hovered the cloth over one of your large gashes that had cut straight through your straight-leg jeans. He looked over your body, unable to hide his curiosity towards the university logo decorating your sweatshirt, the deep purple colouring at the very ends of your hair as well as the multiple pieces of metal piercing through your ear's cartilage. Despite the series of cuts and bruises generously coating you, Azriel believed you might be the most beautiful creature he had ever seen and you were entirely out for the count.

He sighed, dropping the cloth back into the dish and going to make tea with another healing concoction. He rolled his shoulders back and tucked his wings in as tight as possible to minimise their appearance before gently tapping your shoulder to bring you around. When that didn’t work, he fetched one of Cassian’s training boots and ran it beneath your nose, you stirred immediately. You went to shoot up in shock, his strong steady hand, gently pressing you back down.

“You’re okay, you…you just fell but you’re okay.” he said as softly as possible, the ease of his voice unable to settle the rising worry across your face.

“I-I fell?” he gave you a small nod, not entirely a lie he thought to himself.

“Fucking hell my head-” you once again ran your hands down your face, the dry blood slightly flaking in the movement “-do you have any paracetamol or something?”

“Para-what-almol?” Azriel’s eyebrow raised in question before he reached for the tea he made for you from the small table behind him. You removed your hands from your face and looked towards the squatting Illyrian, taking in the beautiful male in front of you, pain being replaced by embarrassment. You pushed up despite his disapproval look, returning to the same position you were in before you fainted.

“Sorry, I should-I should go? Emm…where are we?”

“This is Velaris”

“Velentia?! How did I get here?!” You shot to your feet in surprise, the blood rushing and sending you shakenly back to the soft fabric almost as quickly.

“No, I’m not sure where that is but you’re not there, here take this” he passed the cup with a half laugh and you looked down unconvinced.

“No thanks man, not here to be poisoned” Azriel scoffed in slight offense as he watched you wince to put it back on the small table. You look down at your freshly ripped jeans, your fingers tracing the fresh wounds.

“I’m Azriel” His voice brought your eyes back to him as he passed you the soaked cloth, allowing you to run it over the gashes.

“YN” You gave a small smile back, fighting the singe of the elixir.

“YN? That’s an odd name”

“You say that as if there’s an Azriel at every petrol station in town” You half laugh, more questions entering Azriel’s head than answers. Azriel rose to his feet and headed into the kitchen with the abandoned groceries as you finished with your leg, starting on your forehead.

“No paper here or something?” Azriel looked towards you as you took the cabin in in all its glory, Feyre’s artwork the object of your marvelling.

“They’re Feyre’s, she was here earlier. She went a bit mad up here when she found out Rhysand was her mate”

“Mate? Oh she’s like Australian?”

“What? You speak in riddles” he laughed, joining your side on the couch with his own cup of tea. You looked at it with an air of hunger, not unnoticed by the Spymaster, he looked from the cup to your face.

“You can drink it YN, it’s not poisoned, here look I’ll take a sip” You watched him take a taste before offering it back to you where you took it from him, its fresh floral taste having an almost reviving effect, you drank it almost one gulp.

“Now, I’m afraid you can’t go home just y-”

“Fuck I knew it! What’s in this tea?! I’m being kidnapped!” You shot towards the door, almost knocking the dish of water all over the floor, sending Azriel swearing. You reached your exit and with a wave of his hand, Azriel locked it from the inside.

“YN, no one is going to hurt you, you just, this is going to be hard to explain, one of my…friends brought you here by accident” You still tried to pull on the knob of the door, glancing from it to Azriel as he stood to close the distance.

“Stay back! I know self-defence!” Azriel couldn’t hold his laugh at the small human girl before him threateningly looking at him. He went to catch your arm softly, only for you to send your heavy-booted Doc straight into his instep, followed by the base of your palm up and into his nose, the shock of your sudden movement catching him off guard. He groaned slightly reaching for his nose as it bled, missing your hand reaching for the keys in your pocket and the mace on the keychain. Azriel roared at the feeling of the spray of chemicals burning into his eyes, sending him onto the floor writhing in pain.

“Fuck! Fine! Die in the snow!” He shouted out, waving his hand and releasing the door. You hardly heard him, whipping the door back as the now night air lashed in near-freezing gails of icy snow. You fought the tornado of air as you put the oak door between you and it, sliding down the wood to the ground, your body screaming in pain still from the fall. Azriel sat up, still blinking hard to clear the burning liquid.

“And you thought I’d be the one to use poison” A breathy laugh left him as his red eyes watered and you found yourself matching his smile.

“I promise I won’t kill you, if you don’t kill me” he gave you a genuine look and for some reason you felt such a wave of trust hit you. You agreed, too tired to run from him or face the snow and you rolled your head along the door before looking back at the Illyrian, tracing your eyes along his linen shirt and leather pants

“Are you in a motorbike gang or something?”

“Gods I hope you start making sense soon” he pushed up from the ground, doing his best to not untuck his wings for balance. You looked up at him and reluctantly took the hand he offered, noting the deep scaring covering them like burls on a tree. He followed your eyes to his hands before he gingerly took them back to replace them across his still-stinging eyes. Azriel threw himself back down on the couch and you followed suit.

“I’m sorry about the-” you gestured to your own eyes and he gave a small laugh.

“It’s okay, I’m impressed a human would have such speed, to be honest”

“Human? And what are you a fish?”

“No” he didn’t return your laughing tone, only reaching for your disregarded cloth and placing it over his eyes. Your hand ran down the side of your jeans until you retrieved your phone, the screen fully destroyed from your dance with the trees.

“Great” you sighed, throwing it down on the table, Azriel watching the action.

“Nesta couldn’t save your mirror from the fall?”

“Nesta? Rhysand? Azriel? No one called like Dave around here?”

“Not really the fashion in Prythian” he smiled.

“Prythian? Like from the children's stories?” you chuckled at him.

“No, Prythian like the realm” he tossed the cloth back into the dish, the red in his eyes subsiding.

“My mom used to tell me stories about Prythian and these like great bat boy warriors with these really big-big-win…” you trailed off as you looked to see the shape of Azriel’s wings over his shoulder.

“Really big? Well, thanks for the flattery” He laughed aloud as your face greyed.

“Fuck, it’s happened, studying for my physics final has finally driven me insane, this is all in my head, a stress-induced dream” Azriel reached to your thigh and gave you a gentle pinch following your matter-of-fact speech, causing you to flinch a little.

“Okay so not a dream…”

“Not a dream, my brother’s lovely ma-wife’s sister, pulled you through a sort of rip in the realm and landed you here…not very carefully might I add” He said softly so as to not have you black out again, you nodded very very slowly to his words. You faced away from him, fixing your stare on the smashed phone, you thought of your physics lectures. The theories of tears in the fabric of time being possible, the possibility of alternative realities, the possibility of unexplored realms before settling finally that this wasn’t a possibility, this was a reality.

“So, okay, right-” you bit your lip, working through the thought, Azriel trying to push the shiver down his spine away at that action “-okay cool, right, so I’m gonna need like an excuse note or something for the exam and then, right, cool, Xanax maybe”

“Is Xanax a friend of yours who can help?” Your head shot towards Azriel at his genuine question and you let a roar of laughter leave you.

“Definitely although I don’t think they’re here somehow” you offered with a smirk, Azriel feeling a weird sense of jealousy at not being the object of this smile.

“Well, we’ll make do and try to get you home” You nodded sheepishly to him.

“Do you not want to go home YN? You seemed pretty eager when you tried to break my nose earlier” he smiled and you gently knocked into his shoulder playfully.

“I mean…I’m not in a rush to get back to the test”

“Okay well, it will be a day or two before my friends are back and Rhys has calmed down over Nesta bringing you to greet us so you’ll have time. As for now, care to have something to eat? You can help me make it so we both know neither is trying to poison the other” he gave a light laugh while standing again, and you followed him along to the kitchen.

For the rest of the night, the both of you spent your time cooking, laughing and teaching one another about your worlds. Azriel explained the Courts, his role and his family’s as well as giving a shortened version of their relationships with one another. In return, you told him about your studies, what Instagram was and how democracy works. Azriel wasn’t sure he’d ever felt such strong feelings towards someone he’d just met before and it confused him almost as much as what microwaves were.

“Here you go, a glass of our best liquor, you deserve it” Azriel passed you the tumbler as you sat cross-legged on the couch beneath the woollen blanket you were previously hidden under.

“Oh slay”

“No, I didn’t kill anything to get this for you” You almost choked on the drink with the laugh that left you at his confused words.

“No Azriel it’s like-actually maybe I’ll explain drag culture to you another day” He nodded eagerly at the prospect of learning more, sinking into the couch alongside you with his own drink.

“So have you girlf-mate type person like Feyre and Rhys?”

“No, no girlf-mate type person-” he teased back and you sighed, clipping him with the pillow from under your elbow “-do you?”

“Nope, to be honest, I don’t think I’ll be missed from home, I lost my parents young and never really found my flock at college either” you shrugged.

“How could anyone not miss you YN?”

“You have to say that, you’re my captor”

“Actually Nesta captured you, I’m just minding you-” You returned his smirk “-speaking of which, time for sleep, tomorrow they should be back to figuring getting you home for your exam” you whined like a misbehaving child but you’d been fighting off sleep since dinner so agreed with him.

He lead you to his room in the cabin before offering you one of his clean linen shirts and leaving you to sleep. You practically swam in the fabric, with no wings or Illyrian muscles to fill it out, feeling the same way about the colossal bed that you slipped into. You looked up at the ceiling where Feyre had painted delicate little consolations, the day washing over you, had all your prayers finally been answered? You smiled as you gave into the sleep that hunted you all day.

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

“We are sending her back!”

“Amren can’t guarantee she’ll end up in her realm, she’s not going anywhere!” You wiped the sleep from your eyes, Azriel's blunt tone waking you from the best sleep of your life.

“She can’t stay here Az!”

“And what if she ends up somewhere a lot worse, she coul-oh YN you’re awake” You looked from the doorway between the two gorgeous Illyrians.

“This is Rhysand”

“Oh, your majesty I suppose” you did a half bow after stepping closer to the males, a small laugh leaving Rhysand at the action.

“Don’t flatter him YN”

“YN, flatter me if that would make you happy” he grinned, Azriel rolling his eyes.

“You’re exactly as described” You shrugged at him, settling down on the couch between where the lllyrians stood

“I would like to apologies for Nesta’s…interuption to your day to day life and more so for…probably being all Nesta when you woke up” Rhysand offered, Azriel folding his arms tightly across his chest as he inspected you closely, you in his shirt may now be his favourite sight. Rhysand watched the slight change in his brothers demanour at your presence, this increasing his worry.

“Now YN, it’s time we get you back to-”

“-I heard you guys say you can’t say for certain I’ll get home” you cut across Rhysand, his eyes darting back to you, Azriel trying to bury his smirk.

“I’m confident we know how to get you there”

“Okay cool, so Feyre will accompany me”

“What?” Rhysand bit out.

“Well its just if you’re so sure you’ll get me in the right spot, surely you’ll have no issue allowing Feyre to accompany me yanno, since you’re confident” Azriel lost his battle in holding in his smirk.

“She’s got you there Rhys, if one of us wouldn’t do it, why should she?”

“Because she doesn’t belong here” Rhysand chewed out, locking eyes with his brother.

“She is sitting right here and she isn’t going near any wormhole or whatever if you’re not sure I’d get there safe” You forced his attention back to your with your sharp words.

“Who said anything about worms?”

“YN has a habit of speaking in riddles” Azriel sat alongside you, giving you a somewhat proud smile, his arm instinctively resting on the back of the couch behind you.

“YN, I’m sure you’re great but I can almost guarantee that our world is vastly different to yours, it’s a lot to take on for your mortal mind, perhaps we could arrange a home for you in the mortal realm?” you tilted your head side to side weighing up his offer before Azriel replied for you.

“I can teach her our ways, I can school her like you did Feyre” Rhysand sighed out but couldn’t deny the way Azriel looked at you and you at him was deeply familiar to him.

“Fine, a week, you may stay a week and if it doesn’t work out then the mortal realm it is, we’ll set you up with a nice manor and you’ll live very comfortably”

“Like Downton Abbey?” you teased despite your audience.

“I’m not familiar with that region”

“Is that where the drag culture is?”

“Of sorts” you laughed at Azriel and his quizzical words, his hazel eyes so enamoured by the sight, further cementing Rhysand’s suspicions. Rhysand sighed deeply ensuring you agreed to the terms and to be taught by Azriel before he left to continue to reprimand Nesta.

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

Over the next week it became abundantly clear that despite being from two different realms, you and Azriel were made for one another. You both had the same humor and intelligence as well as thirst for knowledge. You continued to teach him about your home and he taught you about the new world around you and the more you learned the less you wanted to leave. On your first day in Velaris, you thought your heart may burst with the growing love for the place and even more so for your guide.

“And then Cass completely blew the building up, I thought the vein was going to burst in Rhysand’s head” Azriel tilted his head back and laughed loudly while you both crossed the bridge of the Sidra, your last official day in the Night Court before you had to decide. Somewhere along the way, Azriel and your hands became interlocked and forgot to separate.

“You live such insane lives here”

“And you could too” he stopped you in your tracks, his eyes warming over your body as he looked down on you, the sinking sun reflecting off of the snow.

“Maybe with less arson though” he added with a grin you loved so much.

“Az, I’d love to stay but-”

“-No, just say ‘Az I’d love to stay’ and leave it there” he fought his faltering smile as you looked down at his shoes, both hands held in his now.

“But Az-” you couldn’t find the end of the sentence, the words lost on Azriel’s lips as they met yours with such searing passion. His mouth slotted over yours with such a perfect fit it was like they were always meant to be there. You stood further on your toes to deepen the kiss as his hands traced around the nape of your neck and yours landed around his torse. You separated when the need for air almost matched the need to never let go.

“I-I can’t remember the end of my last thought” you laughed lightly and he grinned. “So you’ll stay?”

“I don’t think I was ever going to be able to walk away from you…well not without mace anyways” you smiled back into another kiss, the second of many many more.

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

Let Me Know What You Think Friend!?

Part Two

2K notes · View notes

coalmonger · 6 months ago

Text

Fox: Um.. Whatcha got there?

Thorn: Rations

1K notes · View notes

haverdoodles · 5 days ago

Text

oh, grey warden

— (gilbert)

this was not the life they wanted.

my thorne, gilby 👍 all the senior wardens call them mouse 🐭

they are not my rook but they do join the veilguard :) joining emmrich and bellara as another magic academic nerd lol

#gilbert thorne #warden thorne #rook thorne #grey warden #dragon age #dragon age the veilguard #datv #haverdoodles #haverdoodles oc #art

741 notes · View notes

scarlet-fennec · 11 days ago

Text

Dumb low effort meme that I somehow spent wayyy too long on lol

621 notes · View notes

thesunloveschips · 1 month ago

Text

Obsessed - Part 3 (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: Nesta is even more delusional than Y/n. Azriel finally knows his woman is attracted to him.

Warnings: smutty fantasies, delusional bestie Nesta, Azriel right after a shower, Azriel in ONLY a towel, Azriel's tattoos, delusional Azriel.

Click here for Obsessed (Masterlist)

****

Azriel had no idea what he was thinking when he let Y/n in his apartment. The same place he’d overanalysed to see where all he could fuck her.

That’s right.

He wasn’t thinking at all.

Because he opened the door, saw her, and voila~ she was inside.

She moved towards the kitchen and began hunting for plates. Azriel simply watched her as she made herself at home and owned the kitchen.

Yes.

She did.

Y/n owned the kitchen, the apartment, and she owned him.

Azriel appreciated the domesticity for a moment before walking towards her to help. He picked out a bottle of wine and the glasses.

When they finally sat down, a silence washed over. Azriel was getting the feeling that this was not a comfortable silence. “What happened?”

“I should’ve at least texted you.” So that’s why she was gloomy.

“Your classes begin tomorrow. You need to study.” He remembered that Y/n took academics seriously.

“But I kept on remembering you and I promised myself I’d text or call after finishing one topic and then I read more papers and got carried away and now, it’s been three days.” She slowly quietened and started playing with her fork.

“We’re going to dine and chat.” He deftly served the lasagna for both of them. “There’s nothing wrong here. Nothing weird or awkward. Nothing to worry about.”

Azriel watched her nod at him hesitantly. She was still worried.

“How can I convince you that everything is all right between us?” He asked, folding his arms and letting them rest on the table as he leaned forward to look at her closely.

This woman, this wonderful woman, fretting because she didn’t contact him. She didn’t need to know that he already knew what was going on. That she was so immersed in studying that she did not have any proper meals.

He also knew that she had rushed off to the supermarket earlier this evening and spent a lot of time in the kitchen.

What he didn’t know was that all of it was for him.

That information warmed him in an unexpected manner.

“Hey.” He rose and reached her. Azriel turned her chair and kneeled before her. “It’s all right.”

“It’s just, you’re so good to me and. . . I didn’t even call or text and now, you’re still. . . you’re still so good to me.”

Good?

That wouldn’t do.

He was supposed to be the best for her.

Good sounded like mediocrity in his own head but the word sounded like an achievement when she said it.

Was this what she thought about him?

“It’s all right. We’re fine. You’re here. I’m here. We’re okay.” He patted her head gently.

Azriel stood up, pulled another chair next to her, and readied a bite for her but Y/n shook her head. “I made it for you. You should eat first.”

Something in his head had just short circuited.

He had just been hit with the realisation that she had cooked for him but to hear her say it was euphoric.

“You’ll eat after I take a bite?” She nodded instantly so he took a bite.

It wasn’t made by a chef who considered cooking to be an art for the world to enjoy.

It was made by someone who wanted to cook only for him and not for the world.

A taste prepared to be enjoyed within the privacy and security of the people that would comprise his home.

“Thank you.” His voice was raw and tinged with much more emotion than he’d expected.

This moment with her, her cooking, and him was simply so overwhelming.

“You’ve done so well.” Y/n smiled brightly and a part of Azriel felt like he had truly achieved something in life. To make this woman happy and safe.

This woman, warm as a blanket in early winter mornings, beautiful in the face of her entire life—he wanted his opportunity to cherish her. And he’d take it. He could be patient.

Azriel did not ever remember doing anything good enough to deserve this woman’s presence in his life. But she was here and he’d keep her by his side.

They dined sitting next to each other. And Azriel was acutely aware of everything she did. Every time those breasts heaved as she breathed. Those lips with a bit of cheese at the corner.

He turned to his own plate, nearly scarfing down the meal lest he have another inappropriate thought. But the sight of his own fork reminded him of her mouth around her own fork.

Y/n would look lovely on her knees and even lovelier with his cock inside that mouth. He’d wrap her perfect hair around his fist and thrust inside her mouth. And then he’d-

“Azriel.” She was sitting right next to him, and the height difference was enough for him to think about leaning in.

That stupid bit of cheese was still by the corner of her lip and Azriel could nearly see how she’d look after he’d come in her mouth.

“Are you all right?”

No, he wasn’t.

He wanted that mouth.

On his lips, on his chest, on his cock.

“Yes.” A fucking lie. He was not okay knowing that the woman he was fantasising about was right next to him, eating a meal, thinking that this was just a neighbourly interaction.

Azriel definitely didn’t have any neighbourly intentions towards Y/n unless you could count wanting to fuck her against her front door as one of those.

Conversation continued as she told him about her classes, her education so far, and more things he’d already read in her report but with an addition of her own feelings towards them.

She was not eager to indulge in her private life but she was very proud to talk about Nesta, her best friend since childhood. He heard a few funny moments from her past and bits and pieces about her family.

At some point, he’d begun speaking. It was not just about being comfortable with her but also about wanting to tell her, and knowing that she would now know something about him. So he told her about his friends, his education, and a few things about his everyday life.

When it was nearly eleven, he reminded her that she had classes from tomorrow. Azriel could swear he saw disappointment in her eyes as Y/n made a move to leave.

He really wanted to kiss her. Tell her that she’d cooked really well. That he was thankful for her efforts.

And instead of escorting her to the door, he wanted to take her to the bedroom where he’d undress her and kiss every inch of her.

He couldn’t kiss her but there was something else he could do.

And that’s how Azriel found himself watching baking videos as he retired to bed instead of taking a while to masturbate to his fantasies of Y/n.

****

Y/n was in a good mood after last night’s dinner but she felt guilty for not contacting Azriel. Her neighbour was so nice, so kind. He’d helped her far more than neighbours ever did and she’d just . . . forgotten him while she studied.

She was well-prepared for her classes, met a few new people, toured the campus library, and returned to her apartment.

She immediately FaceTimed Nesta.

“Wait, let me just set this.” Nesta moved to the kitchen in her own shared apartment and placed the phone so that she could cook while they talked. Y/n had already done the same. “Now, before you spill, I have some news. Remember your ex?”

“Very difficult to forget his impact in my life.”

“Lots of trauma and insecurity, I know.” Nesta knew how condescending that creature had been to Y/n, always belittling her whenever she did something or was about to do something herself. And then he’d be a little hypocrite by saying that he’d support her choices while also routinely telling her to stop using her brain. “He got roped into a case of tax fraud and he got fired but he’s still a party to the case.”

Y/n remained silent but her wide eyes were enough for Nesta to understand that she’d been shocked. Nesta waited in front of the screen patiently. “Well. . . fuck him.”

“That’s my girl!” Nesta cheered. “Also, there’s a rumour floating among the alumni that he made some powerful enemies so he’s laying low or he’s underground or on the run or whatever terminology they use for people like that but since this guy is the worthless lowlife that hurt you, I’d prefer to say he’s in the sewer.”

“Hopefully, he’ll drown in the sewage.”

“Moving on, quite literally, to better things in life. Exhibit A: your hot neighbour. Have you fucked?”

“No. And I don’t think we will.” She had a good talk with him last night, absorbing his every word like a sponge but she couldn’t help but feel that he was not attracted to her in the way she was towards him.

“Why not? He’s hot. You’re hot. It only makes sense that you two fuck.”

Y/n looked at the screen, unimpressed. “I think he sees me as a sister.”

“Then go! Do incest! What are you waiting for?” Nesta waved her hands.

“We’re not related.”

“Then do the step-sibling incest thing. We’ve already watched My Fault. It’s bound to be hot.” Nesta deadpanned.

My Fault was a hot, forbidden romance. Now, that was another fantasy.

“Wait. Why do you think he sees you as a sister?” Nesta came to the screen and started eating an apple.

“Because he patted my head last night.” Y/n sighed. “It felt very sibling-like.” She began peeling the onions.

“What happened last night?” Nesta was now curious.

“I forgot to contact him for three days so I made lasagna as an apology.��

“Wait a fucking second.” Here we go. “You have that hot furnace as your neighbour and you forgot him?” Nesta sounded very much offended on Azriel’s behalf. “Are you drugged or something?” She opened a container and closed it. She kept it back and took out another container.

“We enjoyed dinner and dessert and conversations but I almost cried before we started.”

“Darling, men have to be dealt with very tactfully.” Nesta placed a bowl in front of her phone and began peeling potatoes. “If they see your emotional baggage, it’ll only be a big turn-off even when you only want a fling. For example, in my gym, there’s a trainor-”

“You joined a gym?” Y/n interrupted. “Why am I hearing about this now?”

“I have too much free time now that you’re not here so I joined a gym.” Nesta glared at Y/n and the latter kept quiet. “There’s a hot trainor and I know he wants to fuck me. But what am I doing? I’m doing what every reasonable, prudent woman would do. I’m ignoring him.”

“That’s probably not how you get laid.”

“I’m not trying to get laid. I’m trying to get railed. Understand the difference.” Nesta pointed her knife at the screen.

“Laid is a romantic thing. Laid is when you lose your virginity. Laid is for sweet love making.” Nesta sounded a little disgusted while explaining ‘laid’ before her tone changed and she began her passionate explanation about what ‘railed’ meant.

“Railed is for fucking against any surface because you can’t wait. It’s for throwing away your clothes and letting all the lust take over. Touching is for laid, groping is for railed. Do you understand?” Nesta waved her knife and Y/m dutifully nodded.

“Maintain enough distance to let the sexual tension brew like a stew. But not too much distance to make him uninterested. And then soon, Cassian will fuck me like his life depends on it.” Nesta sounded gleeful as she revealed her plan.

Y/n knew that Nesta was only going to fuck this trainor because she never did serious relationships. Y/n had been in one serious relationship which blew up on her face. And since then, it was unbearable to think of going for romance. “Cassian is your trainor’s name?”

“Nice name to moan, don’t you think?”

“Does he know you think that?” She began cutting the onions. Y/n thought that name sounded familiar.

“Absolutely not. It’s only been two days. I’ll take some time. He’s already looking when I’m stretching and so now, I’ll do some specific warm ups that’ll make him realise that I’m a very, very flexible woman.”

“You bitch.” Y/n laughed as she stirred the vegetables.

“I’m going to make him beg.” Nesta grinned evilly. “Enough about him. How do we get you to commit incest?”

“Did I tell you he’s older?”

“How old?”

“He’ll turn twenty nine in a few days.”

“You just turned twenty four. Oh, he’ll love it when you call him daddy.” Nesta smirked.

“I think I want to call him sir.” Y/n laughed.

“Wait. That’s a good idea.”

“What?”

“Grocery shopping. All right? Show some cleavage. Stand next to him. Look up at him with the most innocent look. Okay? So innocent and holy that he should think you’re on the list of innocent people right after Jesus. And then say, ‘yes, sir’. Imagine the sex. He won’t even wait to take you to the bedroom.”

“I’m not really sure.” Y/n was hesitant. What if she ruined whatever friendship she had with him?

The doorbell rang once. “Wait a sec. Nes, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Y/n washed her hands quickly, wiped them on a towel, and went to answer the door.

Azriel stood there, looking mindnumbingly sexy in a shirt with the first couple of buttons not. . . his chest. . . tattoos and. . . Y/n took a step back and nearly fell.

Azriel’s arm snaked around her waist as he easily caught her and helped her stand up.

“I received your parcel by mistake.” He whispered near her ear.

“Thank you.” She probably squeaked. His hand was still on her waist and her eyes were shut tightly.

“Y/n?” His voice was too deep, too dark, too bedroom-like. “Why are you hot?”

“What?” Her voice was a mere whisper.

“Open your eyes, Y/n.” Why was this man saying her name so much? “You feel feverish.” At some point, the back of his hand was pressed against her forehead.

“I’m not. I’m fine.” She hurriedly explained. “Thank you for the parcel.”

Azriel smiled beautifully at her. “I’ll see you around.”

His hands left her waist and he reached his own door. Y/n watched as he entered his apartment, waved at her before closing the door.

She closed her own door and ran to the kitchen to tell Nesta all about it.

****

When Y/n had been exploring during her first day of classes, Azriel easily infiltrated her house (he had a spare key, what do you think he bought the building for?) and set a few bugs to help him eavesdrop.

Was it a coincidence that he made his appearance while Y/n was on a video call with her best friend, discussing and debating about fucking him?

Absolutely not.

He knew that Y/n didn’t like wearing her airpods unless it was necessary so her video calls were always on speaker phone. He’d heard every bit of what both women said.

The only thing that was a coincidence was that he was just about to ring the doorbell when the delivery man had appeared. He signed her parcel, claiming to be her boyfriend (which he would be) and when the delivery boy had left, he finally proceeded.

Now that he knew for a fact that she was sexually attracted to him, he had to only seduce her. To coax her desires before revealing that he was always ready to fuck her.

As for how he’d marry her, that was a little further away but he was confident now.

If she ever called him sir, he knew he’d crack and explode. Y/n wouldn’t even have to do much and he’d fuck her ever so thoroughly.

So he waited.

He got his work done. A few meetings. Calls. Learned how to bake.

He did get his chance to talk to her or go grocery shopping with her but she did not call him sir.

The electricity was beginning to crackle between them when he spotted her looking at his forearms often. He’d wear henleys, roll up his sleeves, and watch as she drooled over while pretending he didn’t realise.

How adorable was she as she checked him out not so discreetly.

And how adorable would she be, begging and crying for him to stop.

****

Azriel had finally perfected baking a cheesecake and it was kept for cooling. A few more hours and he could bring it over to Y/n.

The doorbell rang and Azriel cursed. If there was someone other than Y/n on the other side, he’d throw them down the stairs.

This was a bit inconvenient since he’d just finished showering. He draped a towel around his hips and took another one to begin with his hair as he headed for the door.

It seemed that there would be no deaths since Y/n was waiting for him. But the moment she saw him, her eyes widened and she looked like she’d seen a ghost.

Why?

She looked damn good in that grey sweater and black jeans. Winter fashion suited Y/n. Sweaters were gentle on her curves, her legs were. . .

Yes.

Those were the legs he wanted around his waist. Minus the jeans, of course.

She looked so fucking good but there was only one problem when she went out with him.

He couldn’t show her off as his wife.

As stated in the previous chapter, a lot of things would be sorted if he married Y/n.

Azriel was ready to brood now that the reality of not being married to her slapped him.

But then why was she so shocked when she was the one who looked like she was out to seduce him by existing?

Oh.

He was in a towel.

And with his chest on display.

He remembered that tattoos were an attraction for women and he had loads of them. On his fingers, hands, arms and chest.

Was she attracted?

“Y/n?” He let the towel for his hair hang around his neck.

“Huh?” She then looked at his face because she’d been staring at his chest for so long.

How cute.

She was attracted.

Did she know that all this was hers?

This chest. These hands. These legs. And this cock.

Everything was hers.

Honestly speaking, he’d fuck her if she asked.

“Come in.” He opened the door wider.

“You have tattoos.” She still seemed to be in a daze.

He really had to put in effort to not smirk at her flustered state.

Would she like the tattoos under the towel?

“Yes, I have tattoos. Come inside, Y/n.” He gently ushered her in before realising that he just brought in his woman inside the apartment. His woman who was definitely attracted to him and even more so, more that she’d seen him half naked.

“Yeah. Um. . I was going to buy vegetables. Just wanted to see if you’d like to come with me or if you wanted me to get something.” She was looking at the wall now.

What was this woman even thinking?

That he’d ever refuse her?

Hah! What nonsense.

Why was he even here in this country, in this apartment, if not for her?

Azriel walked over, tilted her chin with a hand, and met her gaze looking as oblivious as he could. “Is there a reason why you’re not looking at me?”

Fuck it. He wanted her to look at her. What did he even look this good for if she was not looking at him?

“I thought. . Maybe you’d be uncomfortable if I looked at you. Some people don’t. . they don’t like that and I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable because of me.”

“You have my permission to look.” To touch. To kiss. To suck. To fuck. She had all permissions since day one.

“Vegetables?” She averted her gaze.

Azriel restrained the urge to smirk.

“Give me ten minutes.” He returned to his room, dried himself, dressed up, and returned to Y/n.

“Ready?” He asked as he wrote his watch.

“You haven’t dried your hair.”

“I used the towel.”

“It’s evening, Az. You’ll catch a cold. Where’s your hair dryer?” There it was. There was the confident Y/n.

“Don’t have one.” He lied so easily. He wanted to see what she’d do.

She marched over to the door and opened it. “Well. Come on. Lock up. You’re using my hair dryer. Only then will you come with me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned. Azriel loved it when she bossed him around. This side of her rarely revealed itself.

Y/n froze and then turned away to unlock her door. And Azriel did as he’d been told.

****

Has anyone seen Azriel half naked? Ever?

In a towel? Bare chested?

Droplets on that golden skin?

Tattoos? Fucking tattoos?

Wet hair?

The wet dream?

How in fuck had she not fainted?

And why did she think she was being sensible by inviting him to her apartment?

To dry his hair?

Well, he did need his hair to be dried to avoid a cold.

She could keep telling herself that.

And what the fuck was that chin raising movement he did?

In that instant, she could think of nothing but his she wanted to be laid down on the wooden coffee table and fucked like they were all that mattered.

A towel.

A towel with a tattoo that it partially concealed.

He had a tattoo there.

She wanted to see that tattoo.

And his cock.

She wanted to kneel before him.

Did anybody in the entire godsfucking universe bothered to take pity on her sanity and tell her that this man was not just sexy but fictional sexy?

No.

Her sanity had evaporated at some point.

Because her knees were already weakening as soon as she laid eyes on him.

And he’d raised her chin looking like a sex god from a dark romance novel.

Y/n needed to kneel and bend and spread for him all at once.

Y/n: Save me.

Nesta: What happened?

Y/n: I saw him shirtless. In a towel. Only a towel. My sanity is deceased. And I’m so fucking horny.

Nesta: Send pics ;)

Y/n: He has tattoos all over. I saw one of them which was partially covered by that towel. It’s down there.

Nesta: Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Y/n: He has a back.

Nesta: Everyone has a back.

Y/n: Wide shouldered, golden, tattooed back, with droplets.

Nesta: Oh. Ohhhhhh. Ohhooohhoooooooo. You lucky bitch, you’re going to get railed. Scratch that back. Mark him well.

Y/n pocketed her phone before she got too delusional and brought the hairdryer. Azriel was sitting on her bed as instructed. She connected the appliance to the plug and gave it to him.

He looked at her coyly with a stupid smirk before she sighed. “Fine.”

Y/n switched on the dryer and dried his hair. She combed through with her fingers and Azriel looked more than happy to simply sit there.

“You should do this if you’re going to wash your hair after lunchtime.” She wanted to sound stern but Y/n was busy thinking about grabbing his hair in other situations.

“Uh huh.” He grinned at her like a cat. Y/n set the dryer down and fluffed down his hair herself.

“All done.”

He stood up and checked himself in the mirror. “Thank you, sweetheart. Now shall we get some vegetables?”

Y/n would have a heart attack at any time soon. She quickly texted Nesta, followed after him, locked the door and they left for shopping.

Instead of heading towards the sidewalk, Azriel headed towards the line of cars parked on the side of the road.

“Where are you going?” Y/n followed. She did not like how this man with his height and long legs just took two steps while she had to take four. She’d never really noticed before since he adjusted his pace to walk by her side.

“My car is here. I had it sent over.” He then looked at her just before he opened the door to the driver’s seat. “Do you drive?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to drive?”

“It’s your car. I’m sure you don’t want a scratch.”

“I trust you.” He walked over and handed the keys to her. “You have a valid licence, right?”

“Azriel, you have to ask about the licence before you give someone your car keys.”

“But you said you drive.” This man had the audacity to look like a scolded child when, not more than twenty minutes ago, he looked like he could throw her around and fuck her all day, every day.

At this point, Y/n needed an exorcism to help with her uncontrollable number of fantasies.

The car was also huge enough to be fucked against. And she could bend over against the bonnet while he took her from behind but it was too cold at night for pants to be removed.

“Y/n?” Azriel appeared in front of her like his existence hadn’t resulted in an unexpected number of filthy delusions that made her panic in his presence. “Ready to leave?”

“All right.”

And they entered the car. When they were settled and she started, Azriel began. “And if you want to go somewhere far just for the quiet, we can go now that we have a car.”

“You love this car, don’t you?”

And Azriel went on a rant about how he’d purchased this one because of all that he fell in love with in this particular model. By the time he finished, they were already parked near the supermarket.

Y/n removed her seatbelt and tapped his arm. “We’ve reached.” She smiled at him.

It was nice and fluffy to simply go on a drive and listen to him.

****

It was so nice to just sit in the car. Azriel loved driving but he recently discovered he also loved sitting. And now that he was following Y/n with the shopping trolley, he felt even better.

And all Azriel wanted to do was to embrace her from behind, kiss her cheek, and laugh with her at something stupid.

It was simple and pleasant. To follow her with a trolley, to watch her frown at two containers of mayonnaise, to listen to her complain about how they should have separate section for panty liners and pads instead of putting them with baby diapers.

She was a bossy woman, a side that revealed itself when they went grocery shopping.

Gods, he wanted her to order him. To ride him and take charge.

His grip on the trolley tightened.

And just when he was beginning to control his thoughts, he saw the fire exit. The washrooms were built there. Nobody would see but he could simply hoist her away and fuck her there.

The thrill of being in a public place did something else to him.

He looked at Y/n and saw her waving at him with a container of something in her hand. He walked over to her and gave his suggestion on the chocolate spread.

The only thing he hated in this routine of grocery shopping was when it ended and they went their separate ways. She’d go to her apartment and he’d go to his. And he hated that. He hated returning to a place where she wasn’t.

And for the first time, Azriel was not alone. He was lonely in the silence.

****

Y/n knew she’d begun caring for her neighbour despite her attraction to him. That she’d started getting used to his presence in her life.

It was only supposed to be sexual attraction but as hot as he was, he was also good to her. He cared for her and his every action proved it.

She liked him.

Oh god.

She actually liked Azriel.

Which sane woman wouldn’t?

She didn’t care about other women. Other women could go drown in the sewer.

What about her?

This man was only supposed to be a one-time encounter from that club they went to for Feyre’s birthday party.

And then he was at the airport.

In the flight. In the same building.

And now he was a part of her life.

And during that dinner when she'd brought him lasagna, when he asked her that question so seriously. “How can I convince you that everything is all right between us?”

Y/n had melted.

She looked at the apartment. This was just for a semester but Y/n loved this space solely because Azriel was next door.

And at some point, she’d begun wishing he was here.

She called Nesta and when her friend picked up the phone, she began crying. “I like him.”

****

Taglist:

@fantanbietsson @angstylittleb1tch @fhgsvbnh @olive-main @cherryjain17 @halo-mystic @starofanotherworld @latinxbipride @viatorem-maris @acotarbestie @sevikas-whore @anthonys-viscountess @randomgurl2326 @thelov3lybookworm @cat-or-kitten

565 notes · View notes

surielstea · 21 days ago

Text

Dancing With Fate

Original request.

Pairing: Nyx Archeron x Tamlin’s Daughter!Reader

Summary: While struggling with her relationship with her father, Reader goes to her first ball and stumbles upon a male she has never met, but feels a distinct connection to.

Warnings: slight angst with a parent, mostly fluff between Reader and Nyx

A.Note: I apologize for how long this took me to get out, I really struggled with how to format her back story but I ended up fairly happy with it, let me know if y’all want more of these two I’d be happy to write a few one shots of their dynamic as well as all the family drama since I’m such a sucker for the forbidden love trope ;)

6.4k word count.

"Can you do that again for me, my sweet?" my mother whispered, her voice trembling as she crouched down to my height. I watched her eyes fill with a glassy shine that I didn't understand. She reached out, her hands shaking as they wrapped around my small wrists. I blinked up at her, wide-eyed and oblivious, only feeling the warmth of her touch and the tremor of her fingers.

I balled my hands into tiny fists, scrunching my face with all the concentration I could muster. I wanted so badly to make her proud, to show her what I could do. I willed the claws beneath my skin to surface, squeezing my fists tighter until, with a soft tearing, they slid out, small and sharp, shining like new silver. Her breath caught, and her eyes went even wider as she stared at the claws that had split through my knuckles. A single tear slipped down her cheek, and I tilted my head, wondering why she was sad. I reached out, my claws joining the action as I moved, but she stumbled back, evading the sharp silver, her hand pressed over her mouth.

"What's wrong, Momma?" I asked, my voice tiny. I tried to reach for her cheek, to wipe the tear away like she'd done for me so many times, but she shook her head, forcing a small, shaky smile.

"Nothing, it's alright, my sweet," she whispered, her voice soft and a little broken. "I just... didn't think you'd be able to do this so soon." Her fingers lingered on my cheek, warm and tender. She looked at me like she was memorizing my face, like every part of me mattered.

I gave her a proud smile, lifting my hands. "Isn't it cool?" I grinned widely, my innocence unbroken. I had no idea what my claws really meant, or the sorrow that darkened her gaze as she watched me slash the air with them, filling the quiet night with soft, sharp swishes. She just sat there, quiet and sad, holding her own hands close to her chest as if they couldn't bear to let me go.

It was a late night, much too late for me to be awake. I clung tightly to my mother's hand as she led me through a garden filled with roses that gleamed under the moonlight. The flowers were tall and beautiful, and I wanted to reach out to touch them, but my mother's grip kept me close. She moved so fast, her cloak wrapped tightly around her, like she was hiding from something.

"Where are we going, Mom?" I asked in a small voice, but she didn't answer, her steps quickening as she pulled me along. The roses seemed to shiver in the breeze, their petals brushing against us as we passed, and the moon above us was high and cold, casting everything in a silver glow.

Ahead of us was a huge mansion, bigger than any house I'd ever seen. It loomed in the night, dark and quiet, like it was waiting for us. My mother slowed as we neared the porch, her breathing heavy as she crouched down in front of me, her face serious in a way that made my heart beat faster.

She pressed a folded piece of paper into my hands, her fingers cold and firm around mine. "We're going to play a game, okay?" she said, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Her fingers brushed my cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

I nodded eagerly, happy that she wanted to play. Games with Momma were always fun. She pointed to the paper, her hand gentle but urgent. "Whoever opens that door," she said, her voice steady but quiet, "you give them this paper, okay?" Her gaze held mine, as if she was trying to pour a message into me with her eyes. "And, my sweet," she paused, swallowing hard, "I'm going to hide now. And no matter what they ask you, you can't tell them I was with you. It's a big secret."

I blinked up at her, not fully understanding, but I nodded anyway, like a good girl. She reached out, her fingers lingering on my cheek again, her eyes shimmering with something I couldn't name. "I'll meet you at the window, okay?" Her voice cracked, and a tear slipped down her cheek. "It'll be fun, I promise."

I reached up to brush the tear away, but she was already rising. Before I could say anything else, she knocked on the tall doors, and with a last, lingering look, she turned and melted into the shadows. Just like that, she was gone.

Suddenly, the night felt enormous and empty, the shadows stretching out around me, dark and cold. The noises from the forest grew louder, like the trees and animals and everything hidden within the dark were whispering all around me. My heart pounded, and I almost wanted to cry out, to beg for her to come back and take me home. But before I could make a sound, the massive doors creaked open, casting a sliver of light onto the porch.

A man stood in the doorway, tall and fierce, with wild red hair and eyes that seemed to cut through the darkness. One of his eyes gleamed gold, like a piece of metal, and he looked down at me with a frown, his expression stern and sleepy. "Excuse me, Mister," I squeaked, trying to remember my mother's instructions.

His gaze softened just a bit as he took in my tiny figure. "And who might you be?" he asked, his voice rough but not unkind.

"I'm supposed to give this to you." I held up the paper, my hands trembling as I waited for him to take it. He knelt down, eyeing me carefully as he unfolded the note, his expression unreadable. I gave him a polite smile, remembering my mother's lessons, but his gaze flicked from the note back to me, his eyes narrowing.

"Where's your mother?" he asked, his voice soft but sharp.

I shrugged, fidgeting under his gaze. "I don't know," I whispered, my heart thudding in my chest.

"But she brought you here, didn't she?" he pressed, his gaze steady. I swallowed, unsure of how my mother would want me to answer. After a long, quiet moment, he sighed, opening the door wider. "Come inside. You shouldn't be out here alone."

I followed him into the mansion, the silence thick and heavy as he led me up a grand staircase. My shoes clicked against the cold, polished floor as we climbed up and up, stopping finally at a pair of wooden doors wrapped in ivy. I was too small to open them, so I just waited, feeling very small in the middle of the enormous hallway.

"Wait here a moment," he said, giving me a nod before stepping through the door. I looked around, mesmerized by the golden chandelier hanging above me, its glow casting strange, twisting shadows that moved as the lights flickered.

"I already told you I'm not in the mood to talk, Lucien." A deep, heavy voice sounded from beyond the door, and I jumped, hugging my cloak tighter around me.

"It's not that," Lucien replied, his tone shifting in a way that sounded unsure, even a little nervous. "You have a visitor."

The other voice was silent for a moment, and my stomach knotted up as I realized they were talking about me. "Tell them to leave," the man said finally, his tone cold and final.

Lucien sighed, and I heard the soft rustling of paper. The silence felt like it stretched forever, but then footsteps approached. The door swung open, and I looked up to see a tall man with golden hair, his eyes dark and sharp as they fell on me. I could tell by the way he looked at me that he wasn't used to children, that maybe he didn't know what to do with me.

But he crouched down slowly, his gaze softening just a bit as he held his hands up, like he wanted me to know he wasn't going to hurt me. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice low and gentle.

I told him, my voice a quiet whisper, but he nodded as if he'd heard every word. "Do you know who I am?" he asked, tilting his head, and I shook my head, looking down at my hands.

"I'm the High Lord of the Spring Court," he said softly, his tone proud but his eyes sad. My eyes widened, a little smile pulling at my lips. I'd heard of a High Lord in my mother's stories, someone powerful and magical.

"But, more importantly," he continued, his gaze searching my face, "I'm your father."

I blinked up at him, the words hanging in the air like they were something heavy, something I didn't yet understand. I wanted to ask him what it all meant, but all I could do was stare up at him, my fingers curling around the edge of my cloak, wishing I was safe in my mother's arms again.

———

Ever since that night, I've been confined to this estate on every special occasion, under the watchful eyes of my father's maids, lest I sneak away the moment I'm alone. Tonight, like many others, I'm left looking out the window of my bedroom—the same spot where I'd waited endlessly as a child, hoping my mother would come back for me.

But tonight was going to be different. I'd make sure of it.

I storm out of my room, my heels clicking with determined steps as I march down the hall. I swing open the doors to my father's study without knocking. He looks up from his papers, brow creased, clearly taken aback by my abrupt entrance.

"I'm going to the Dawn Court tonight," I say, my tone leaving no room for discussion.

"Absolutely not," he replies, shaking his head and dipping his quill back in the ink, dismissing me with the kind of finality he's used to exerting over me.

"All the courts are invited," I argue, stepping forward. "I'm obligated to go."

"No," he says again, his tone colder. "It's a high-profile ball. You're not ready."

I draw in a sharp breath, struggling to keep my temper in check. "Not ready? Father, I'm nineteen. If not now, then when?" This age had been difficult for him for some reason, I don't know why but ever since my birthday he's been acting strangely, started keeping me shut out and less involved—I may as well have just been imagining it or it was a coincidence it started happening after I turned nineteen, but once I got the thought in my head it was hard to get it out.

His expression hardens, his voice annoyingly calm. "Just, not now."

A chill spreads through my hands, and I have to resist the urge to bear the claws that hide beneath my skin. "I'm so tired of having every decision made for me," I say, pressing my palms to my temples as frustration wells up. "Of being treated like a prisoner in this house."

He stands, his temper fraying. "And I'm sick of you thinking you know best," His voice rises, echoing in the silence of the study. "You don't understand half of what's at stake."

"No, maybe I don't. But neither do you, apparently," I snap back. "Or maybe it's just that you're afraid to lose the only company you have left in this house. Is that it, Father?"

His hands ball into fists, metal-like claws gleaming from his knuckles. Mine slid out as well, a metallic gleam in the dim light.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," he snarls, eyes darkening.

"Maybe I do," I bite back. "I hate this house." It came out as more of a confession than a retort, but his face falters, pain flickering through his eyes before he regains his composure.

"You don't mean that."

"I do," I insist, voice shaking with anger. "I hate this house, and I wish my mother never abandoned me here." The words are barely out of my mouth before I turn on my heel and stride out, slamming the door behind me so hard the walls shudder, my claws snagging on the wood of the door and scraping the paint off, revealing the bare, slightly rotted wood beneath. It felt like a metaphor, in a strange way.

I make my way to the garden, desperate for air. The night breeze is cool as I step out onto the deck, and I close the glass doors behind me a little more gently this time. Taking a few deep breaths, I walk along the garden path, letting the silence and cold soothe my frayed nerves. Winter's grip is finally loosening, and the garden is starting to come alive with buds and leaves. My favorite time of year.

I reach for one of the rosebuds, my claws retracting ever so slowly, my skin morphing over the hideous metal that gleamed in the moonlight. I forget the feeling of the power my father gifted me and remember the feeling and comforting warmth of my mother's power flickering beneath my fingertips. The flower blooms in my palm, reaching out toward me, and I smile faintly as I coax the other buds open along the path. Flower by flower my frustrating emotions ebb, and by the time I've reached the stone bench, my anger has cooled, replaced by something heavier, more complicated.

I sit, feeling the familiar weight of regret settle over me. I don't hate this house, not really. I hate the way I'm trapped in it.

The glass door opens, and I know without looking that it's him. My father takes a seat beside me on the bench, and I shift away, making it clear I'm not ready to forgive him just yet. We sit in silence, watching the newly-bloomed flowers sway in the night breeze. Finally, he sighs.

"You can go to the Dawn Court tonight," he says quietly.

I turn to him, my eyes wide with surprise.

He hesitates, looking down at his hands. "I'm..." He struggles around the word. "Sorry that you feel like you can't make your own choices," he mutters, his voice filled with a vulnerability I haven't heard ever before. "I'm trying to do better. And, you're right. I am afraid."

My heart softens, and the walls I've built up slowly crumble. "Afraid of what?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Of losing you, in turn losing everything." He looks up, his eyes—a shade of green I've always found comfort in—filled with an emotion that makes my heart ache.

Without thinking, I wrap my arms around him, and he pulls me close, his hand gently stroking my back. "I'm sorry, too," I murmur into his shoulder.

He shakes his head. "Don't be. You're my daughter. You're allowed to be angry with me." He pulls back to look at me. "Just promise me one thing," he says. "Promise you won't run away tonight."

I give him a small smile, the request so obscene that u couldn't help it. "I'll be perfect. Thank you, Father." I reassure.

He nods, satisfied, and rises from the bench. "We leave in an hour. You'd better start getting ready."

———

My dress is a soft lavender that hugs my waist and fans out into a beautiful, flowing skirt, the slit running up my thigh edged in delicate embroidered flowers. The open back crisscrosses with delicate ties, and the neckline is just low enough to be elegant without being too revealing. One of the maids has styled my hair in a half-up, half-down look, a few braided strands framing my face. For once, I feel exactly how I want to feel—elegant, feminine, and free.

I leave my bedroom and make my way down the hall to the marble staircase, where my father waits at the base. As I descend, his eyes widen, his mouth opening slightly as he takes in my appearance.

"Well?" I do a small spin, laughing at his awestruck expression.

He swallows, a proud smile slowly spreading across his face. "You look beautiful," he murmurs, pulling me into a hug.

I hug him back, letting him hold me close, and in that moment, it feels as if all the tension of our earlier argument melts away. We're just father and daughter again.

———

The Dawn Court ballroom is bathed in golden light, warm and inviting. I've barely stepped inside when a tall, dark-skinned man in white robes approaches, a halo of gold atop his head.

"And who is this lovely lady?" he asks, his voice rich with curiosity.

"My daughter," my father answers gruffly, his protective tone unmistakable.

The man blinks in surprise before offering a sheepish smile. "Ah, well then." He turns and makes a quick exit.

"Who was that?" I ask, amused by his reaction.

"High Lord of Day," my father mutters, a hint of irritation in his voice. "He has a reputation."

I raise an eyebrow, smiling as I unlink my arm from his. "Are all High Lords so... pretty?"

"Careful," he growls in warning.

A cheeky smile appears on my lips as I unhook my arm from his. "Only observations." I shrug. "I'm going to get a drink." I take a step away and he takes it with me. "Father, I'm only going to the refreshments table, not war. I'll be fine." I promise and he solicits a sigh.

"No wine." He demands and I shake my head in disbelief.

"Yes sir." I mock salute before spinning on my heel and walking across the ballroom, I make my way to the refreshment table and pour myself a glass from the fountain of cider, admiring the way the bubbles shimmer in the golden light. My father had said no wine but mentioned nothing about spiked cider. I take a long sip and begin to explore the ballroom, watching dancers swirl in gowns of blue and pink that mirror the sunset outside.

Lost in thought, I wander past an indoor garden filled with gardenias and evergreens. I couldn't help myself but slip inside, a few guests were inside, admiring the flowers just as I wished to do, so I deemed I was allowed to. I approached an arch of budded flowers, standing beneath the green vines that soon would be sprouted in color. I reached out, gently brushing a bud with my fingertips, watching as it blooms in reply.

"Your touch has improved since the last time I saw you," a familiar voice murmurs from behind me.

I turn, eyes lighting up as they land on a tan-skinned male with striking red hair. "Lucien!" I throw my arms around him, grinning.

He chuckles, pulling me into a warm hug. "You look stunning, little Fawn," he says, holding me at arm's length to take in my dress. "How did you manage to get out of the house?"

I smirk with a casual shrug. "Whipped out the claws."

He raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Like father, like daughter." He mused and I chuckled, looking down at the flowers reaching towards me, asking for my attention again.

"You want to dance?" His hand comes to my shoulder and I shake my head.

"You go ahead, I think I'll need a few more glasses before I step foot on the dance floor." I scoff and he shakes his head.

"Nonsense, you're a terrific dancer." He bumps my shoulder.

"I'm okay uncle, really," I reassured and he clamped his lips shut.

"Okay, find me if you need me." He presses a kiss to my temple and I nod.

He saunters away towards a group of friends I didn't recognize and I continue exploring, sipping my champagne as I wander through the crowd.

My gaze is caught by a group of strangers dressed in dark clothing. There's a woman in deep maroon, a honey brunette who smiles at me softly, and beside her, a tall man wearing a black-jeweled crown. I study them curiously, trying to place who they might be.

Distracted, I accidentally walk straight into someone's chest.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I stammer, stumbling back. I trip over my heels, but a pair of strong hands catches me, steadying me before I fall.

"You alright?" an unfamiliar voice asks, deep and soothing.

I look up—and up—and up—at a broad-shouldered man with rugged features and half of his shoulder-length hair tied back. He has a friendly, easy-going smile that immediately puts me at ease.

"Yeah, sorry," I mutter, flushing slightly.

He chuckles, the sound rich and warm. "No need to apologize. I should have been watching where I was going. You'd think five centuries would be enough time to figure that out." He snorts, red siphons gleaming on his chest and hands.

I blink in surprise. "Five centuries?"

He grins, raising an eyebrow. "Hey, no need to make me sound ancient."

I laugh, feeling unexpectedly comfortable around him. "Right. Apologies again." I clamp my lips shut, embarrassed.

"Who's the lucky person that brought you here tonight?" He asks, sensing my embarrassment and switching the topic, shifting to face towards the crowd.

"Couldn't I have come on my own?" I counter, crossing my arms.

He laughs again. "Touché. But I'll bet that doesn't mean you'll be lacking for dance partners." He gestures to the dance floor.

"Maybe," I say with a smile, "but that depends on who asks."

"Well, I would, but my mate would probably have my head if I danced with anyone else," he says, feigning a solemn look.

"Pity," I replied playfully. "But it's alright—you don't seem all that familiar with your feet anyway."

He gasps, feigning insult. "Hey! I'll have you know I'm a world-class dancer!"

"Oh, really?" I raise an eyebrow. "Shame, then. You missed your chance."

He chuckles, backing away. "Well, it was nice talking to you—mystery lady."

"Likewise," I call after him with a smile, watching as he disappears into the crowd.

The music is lively, filling the ballroom with a vibrant energy as dancers swirl and laugh under the golden chandeliers. I sip the last of my cider, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through me. For the first time in ages, I feel, free. Maybe my father had been right to keep me close all these years; maybe I wasn't ready for this world of strangers and their sharp eyes. But as I watch the colors and movement around me, I know I wouldn't trade this feeling for anything.

Lost in my thoughts, I wander past the terrace doors and step outside, onto a balcony that overlooks a sprawling garden filled with glistening fountains and delicate white flowers. I take a deep breath, savoring the crisp night air, and let my fingers trace the cool stone railing wrapped in ivy.

Then I hear it—a quiet, amused hum from just behind me. I turn, startled, and my gaze falls on a young man leaning casually against the doorway, watching me with a slight, crooked smile.

He's tall, with jet-black hair that falls in tousled waves, and eyes that are strikingly, disarmingly blue. He wears a dark, impeccably tailored suit, with a midnight-blue shirt beneath, the top buttons undone enough to reveal tan skin beneath. There's an effortless elegance to him, a quiet confidence, like he belongs in every corner of this glittering world.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he says, stepping forward with a charming half-smile. "But I had to wonder what you were doing all by yourself out here. Parties like these are hardly tolerable alone."

I raise an eyebrow, feeling my cheeks warm under his gaze. "And yet here you are, all by yourself."

He chuckles, eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. "Fair, though technically, I'm not alone anymore, am I?"

I laugh, feeling my earlier irritation with my father melt away as I look at him. "I suppose not. Though I doubt you're here to keep me company."

He raises a hand in mock innocence. "You wound me. I've been nothing but kind since we met."

"Have we met?" I ask, tilting my head. "I think I would've remembered," I say with an angled head and something flickers in his sapphire gaze that I can't quite place.

He seems to consider this, tilting his head thoughtfully. "No, we haven't officially met," he concedes. "Which feels like a shame, honestly."

The corners of my mouth lift in a smile. "So, are you going to introduce yourself, or are we just going to continue being strangers?"

His eyes sparkle with something like amusement as he extends a hand. "Strangers sounds nice," I say flippantly, looking out at the Dawn Courts skyline, a sliver of the sun barely visible. This party was supposed to last until dawn, until the sun returned and the entire court could watch the outmatched sunrise of this court.

I wasn't ready to commit to making any friends, I had just gained my freedom, I wished to revel in it for a few moments longer, nameless was my way of doing it.

He laughs, a rich, genuine sound that makes my heart skip. "Alright, stranger," he says, leaning casually against the railing beside me. "What brings you out to the edge of the ballroom?"

"Some air," I reply with a shrug, looking out over the garden. "I hadn't expected to feel so claustrophobic."

He nods, understanding flickering in his eyes. "Parties can be exhausting. All the faces, all the names. It's nice to step away."

I glance at him. "You sound like you've been to one too many of these."

"Oh, you have no idea," he says with a grin. "I think I've been to so many I could navigate them in my sleep."

"And here I thought you looked like you were having fun," I tease.

"Maybe I'm a good actor," he says, his tone playful. "Or maybe I just needed a reason to enjoy it."

I roll my eyes, but I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. "Does that line actually work for you?"

"More often than you'd think," he says, laughing. "But since you're clearly immune to charm, let me try a different approach." He holds out a hand, bowing slightly. "Would you do me the honor of a dance, stranger?"

I hesitate, glancing back at the ballroom, but something about his easy smile, the spark of humor in his eyes, makes me want to take his hand. I place mine in his, letting him lead me closer.

The music inside changes as his lithe fingers make contact with my waist, shifting to a slower, softer melody. He adjusts my stance, guiding me with a gentleness that surprises me. There's a warmth in his gaze that makes my heart pound just a little faster as I look up at him.

"So, princess," he murmurs as we begin to move, his voice barely audible over the music echoing from inside. "Are you here with family? Or did you sneak away to attend the most boring ball of the season?"

I laugh, looking up at him with feigned offense. "Boring? I'll have you know I'm having a wonderful time."

"Are you?" he asks, eyes twinkling. "Or are you just saying that to make me feel better?"

"Maybe a little of both," I admit, a smile tugging at my lips. "And you? Do you always call balls like these boring?"

"Only when my mother's not here to overhear," he replies, grinning. "But tell me, how did you get here?"

I hesitate, wondering how much to tell him, but there's something about his gaze that makes it feel safe, to be honest. "My father brought me," I say, keeping it vague. "He doesn't let me out much."

"Really?" The stranger's eyebrows lift in surprise. "I would've pegged you for someone who went wherever they pleased."

"I'd like to think so," I reply, laughing. "But apparently, my father has other ideas."

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity in his eyes. "What does he think you'll do? Start a rebellion?"

"Maybe," I say with a shrug, a playful glint in my eyes. "He's probably right."

His laughter is warm, and he holds me a little closer as we spin across the marbled balcony floor. "Well, if you ever need a partner in crime, let me know. I'm an excellent accomplice."

I arch an eyebrow, smirking. "How do I know you're any good at sneaking out?"

He grins, leaning down until his voice is a soft murmur in my ear. "Trust me, princess. You don't survive my family without learning how to slip away now and then."

I glance up, meeting his gaze, intrigued by the way his words hold a hidden depth, a story he's not telling. "Your family sounds, interesting."

"That's one way to put it," he says with a chuckle, eyes flickering with a momentary shadow. But it's gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his easy charm. "Let's just say they have certain expectations."

"Well, then maybe we have more in common than I thought," I say, softening.

"Seems that way," he murmurs, his voice softening too. There's a gentleness in his gaze now, and I feel his hands hold me just a little more securely as if he's anchoring me.

We dance like this, quietly, for a few moments, simply enjoying the music and each other's company. He spins me once, drawing a soft laugh from me, and when he pulls me back, I'm closer than I realized, his breath warm on my cheek.

"Do you think we'd have met otherwise?" he asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I blink, a little caught off guard by the question. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"Fate has a funny way of working, doesn't it?" He's still holding me close, his gaze warm and thoughtful, and I feel the world fade away a little as we look at each other.

"It does," I reply, almost breathless, my heart pounding in my chest.

He's quiet for a moment, his eyes glimmering with something I couldn't place. "I hope—I hope fate lets us meet again."

For a moment, I forget about the ballroom, about my father's rules, about everything except him. I don't know who he is, or why he's here, but something about him feels achingly familiar, like we're old friends, like I've known him in some other life.

When the music fades, he slowly lets me go, and I feel the loss of his warmth, his presence. He steps back, bowing with a playful, courtly gesture.

I scoff a laugh and give my best attempt at a curtsy. "You're a natural," He muses as the music dies down and I sidle closer to the balcony, eager to look out at the world beyond that I had never witnessed before.

The balcony feels almost timeless as we stand there, his presence beside me grounding in a way I hadn't expected. We talk as if there are no constraints, just the night around us, a quiet space carved out in the world. His words flow easily, a mix of humor and teasing, sometimes dipping into moments of gentleness that make my chest tighten.

I can't help but keep stealing glances at him, trying to memorize the sharp line of his jaw and the warm, playful gleam in his eyes. And every time I meet that gaze, I feel the strange, unshakable familiarity tugging at me—a whisper in the back of my mind that insists I know him, that maybe I've known him far longer than this one night. But I can't let myself get swept away in that feeling. Not yet.

We talk for hours about anything and everything, I tell him about the flowers below us, and what they symbolize, and in return, he tells me of the stars in the sky, the constellations, and each of their names.

We talked about things that I never voiced before, but there was a steady comfort in his presence that made me feel like I could confess even my deepest mistakes and he'd nod with understanding in his eyes, not a flicker of judgment.

We didn't go into the ballroom the entire night, had taken up the small seating area that curved around the side of the building I hadn't noticed before.

"So, princess," he says, smirking as he leans his back into his chair, arms folded in a lazy, practiced ease, "if you weren't here, what kind of trouble would you be getting yourself into?"

I think for a moment, letting my fingers graze the ivy-covered stone. "Trouble? I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I'm sure you don't." He smirks, an amused glint in his eyes. "I pegged you for the rebellious type the moment I set eyes on you." He goes on.

I shrug, glancing out over the shadowed garden below. "Well, clearly you don't know me very well," I reply in a snarky tone, my lips curling into a teasing smile. "Perhaps I'm a perfectly obedient daughter who follows all the rules."

His laugh is low and rich, sending a pleasant shiver through me. "Now, I find that hard to believe," he murmurs, tilting his head to meet my gaze. "A wildflower like you, growing in a gilded cage? No, I think you're meant to be out there—" he gestures to the dark mountains beyond the garden, "—living on your own terms."

My cheeks warm under his gaze, but I lift my chin. "And you? What about you, oh wise stranger? Surely you're not the type to follow anyone's rules but your own."

"Oh, I'd follow them," he says, his voice dropping to a playful murmur, "if you were the one making them."

I feel my face flush at his words, but I can't resist matching his grin. "Be careful what you wish for. I'd hate to ruin that roguish charm with a few boundaries."

"Boundaries?" He raises an eyebrow, laughing. "I don't believe you’re the kind of girl to put them in place, life's far more interesting without them, don't you think?" He cocks his head in an all too demeaning fashion, as if he knows me better than to even suggest such a thing. I can’t help but smile at the familiarity, of being truly seen and known, it was foreign, but welcomed. “More than you know,” I reply, a softer atmosphere taking over with the tenderness in my voice.

"So, what does someone like you dream of seeing?"

It's a simple enough question, but I find myself hesitating, surprised by how much I want to answer, how easy it feels to open up to him. "I want to see everything," I admit, my voice almost a whisper. "Every corner of the world. The mountains, the seas. I want to taste the air in different places and feel the ground under my feet where no one else has walked. I want to be free."

It's more than I've ever shared with anyone, especially someone who doesn't even know my name. I swallow, feeling suddenly vulnerable, but when I glance at him, his gaze is warm, and understanding. As if he knows exactly what I mean.

"I think freedom suits you," he says softly like he's revealing a secret. "It's in your eyes—the way they look past this place, like you're already somewhere else entirely."

His words send a shiver through me, and for a moment, I can't find any words at all. So instead, I look away, watching as the sky shifts from deep indigo to a paler shade, hinting at the dawn. "Maybe one day I'll get to see it all," I say, more to myself than to him.

"I have a feeling you will." His voice is quiet, almost wistful, and I glance back to find him watching me with that same, unsettling familiarity, as if he, too, feels this strange pull between us.

We fall into an easy silence after that, leaning against the railing side by side as the stars start to fade. Occasionally, he says something that makes me laugh, and I find myself telling him things I'd never tell anyone else—about the books I love, the dreams I've buried, the way I crave a life that's different from the one set out for me.

He listens, really listens, his attention never wavering. And in return, he shares pieces of himself, though I sense he's careful, holding back just as much as I am. He speaks of a family that has expectations, a life lived beneath a weight that isn't always visible. I don't pry, but I nod, letting him know I understand.

The sky lightens, a faint glow spreading over the horizon, and I can't help but feel a pang of regret as the world around us starts to wake.

"You know," he murmurs, his voice low, "I think this might be one of the best conversations I've ever had."

I laugh softly, though my heart aches a little at the thought of this night ending. "You don't get many opportunities to talk with strangers on balconies?"

"Not like this," he says, glancing down at me, his expression unreadable. "Not with someone like you."

There's something so earnest in his gaze that I feel my resolve waver. I want to tell him who I am, to share every piece of myself, but a part of me resists, clinging to this fleeting anonymity.

"Thank you," I say softly, and I mean it more than he could ever know.

"For what?" he asks, his tone warm.

"For reminding me that people can be kind. That they can listen." I smile up at him, feeling a strange mixture of sadness and hope. "I think I needed that."

The first light of dawn glimmers on the horizon, casting a soft glow over the garden. Slowly, he reaches out, taking my hand in his, his touch warm and steady. I feel his thumb brush gently over my knuckles, and it sends a wave of warmth through me, a silent promise in his touch.

"Maybe one day," he says softly, his voice barely a whisper, "we'll meet again. Maybe fate will give us that."

I can't bring myself to say anything, so I simply nod, letting myself savor the feel of his hand in mine for just a moment longer.

As the first rays of sunlight touch the garden below, he releases my hand, stepping back with a soft smile. He gives me one last, lingering look before turning, disappearing through the terrace doors and back into the world from which he came.

I stay there, watching as the light fills the sky, feeling like I've lost something precious and found something rare all at once.

Comment or reblog with a “💙” to be added to the general taglist!

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glitterypirateduck @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @fauxdette @going-through-shit @glam-targaryen @hufflepuff-pa55 @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogerbarnesxx @azriels-shadowsinger @stinkinstuffie @sandramalikstyles-blog @sassyangel16 @lilah-asteria @starsinyourseyes @inloveallthetime @melsunshine @nighttimemoonlover @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @cumuluscranium @adharanotfound @azrielsmate3 @aelincaddel @hiddlestonspassionsackx @dee-writes-smut @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @pit-and-the-pen @mybestfriendmademe @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @circe143 @bubybubsters @joshysloshy @username199945 @ivy-34 @notsarareallynot @vixenshiftsvrs @aurorab99 @pey2618 @loving-and-dreaming @mmg777 @andreperez11 @thatacotargirl @123345566 @one-big-fangirl @moonslitluna @imyherondale @salvawhxres @bookishbabyyyy @anuttellaa @breadsticks2004 @azriels-human @mamita-vera @demetercabingreen-thumb @lorosette @daughterofthemoons-stuff @tothestarsandwhateverend @ahaha0246 @mellowmusings @mythicalcookie

492 notes · View notes

dark-dawn · 6 months ago

Text

❝ HEART RATE HIGHS !! ❞ – azriel x reader

✭ pairing: gym rat ! azriel x archeron ! reader

✭ summary: you swear you only have a gym membership for self-improvement. it’s definitely not to see the cute guy you have a crush on.

✭ contains: modern au, f!reader, college au, but age is vague, anxious!reader who can’t see that azriel is already a little in love with you, gym culture, alcohol, meddling sisters, because reader is terrible at talking to guys, mutual pining.

✭ word count: 3k+ ✭ a/n: i absolutely love gym fics and i couldn't stop thinking about azriel in a compression shirt, so if i have to suffer, so do you <3

“wait, did i hear you properly? you’re going to the gym?” nesta’s voice cuts through the quiet murmur of the lecture hall. heads turn, and the professor pauses mid-sentence, frowning at the interruption. you cringe at the sudden attention and whisper an apology, slouching in your seat to avoid the stares.

“you’re acting like i’ve just sprouted wings,” you respond, trying to keep your voice low.

nesta blinks, her surprise melting into scepticism. “well, it is out of character for you. the gym, are you sure?”

“yes.”

“really?”

you nod.

you can’t blame her for being doubtful. among your sisters, you’re the most averse to exercise. even elain, thanks to her gardening, could likely outlift you. but –

“i don’t know if i should be offended that you’re so surprised.”

“hey, it’s not personal,” nesta replies, her voice softer as she glances around the room. the professor had resumed teaching and students were slowly returning their attention to their notes. “it’s just... unexpected. i mean, last time i suggested going for a jog, you looked at me like i’d grown a second head.”

“yeah, well, i just figured it’s about time i start taking better care of myself.”

“what brought this on all of a sudden?”

you shrug, trying to put your thoughts into words. “i guess i just realised that i’ve been neglecting my health lately. with school and everything else going on, i haven’t been feeling so great.”

nesta nods in understanding, letting you continue. neither of you really cared about this class, after all, and it wasn’t the first time you’d been called out for talking through a lecture.

“i just thought it might be a good way to clear my head, you know? like, a chance to zone out and focus on something other than deadlines and exams.”

“if you turn into a gym rat and only eat chicken and rice, i’m disowning you.”

“you’d have to pry ice cream from my cold, dead hands,” you say, nudging nesta with a grin. “nothing can take away my love of carbs and cheesy fries.”

“uh-huh, sure. that’s what they all say until they’re posting pictures of their meal prep on instagram.”

“you have no faith in me, do you?”

“none whatsoever,” she replies with a grin. “but hey, if this gym thing helps you feel better, i’m all for it.”

“if i ever mention a juice cleanse, you have full permission to stage an intervention.”

“deal. and if you lecture me on the importance of pre-workout supplements, i’m kicking you out of the apartment.”

after your year abroad, you found yourself back at the university of velaris, settling into a new rhythm with your three sisters. the four of you had decided to share an apartment, a decision fuelled by equal parts necessity and nostalgia. it wasn’t long before familiar routines took shape amidst the chaos of unpacked boxes and endless debates over furniture placement.

besides, feyre had been spending most of her time at her new boyfriend’s apartment, leaving a bit more breathing room for the rest of you. you hadn’t met him yet, but you’d heard he came from money and his penthouse had skyline views, so you could hardly blame her.

nesta wasn’t a fan, muttering something about ��trust fund babies” under her breath whenever his name came up in conversation. but feyre seemed happy, and ultimately, that was what mattered most, even if a twinge of jealousy occasionally crept in.

“you should come with me.”

“i would rather die,” she snorts. “doesn’t mor work out? you should ask her.”

“no way, i’d look even more unfit next to her. i have some pride.”

“wow, so you ask me instead. you’re such a bitch,” she laughs.

as luck would have it, the gym was just a 10-minute walk away, conveniently offering a discounted price for students. the only downside was going alone.

“but i don’t know how to use the equipment,” you groan.

“and you think i do?” your sister retorts.

“well, no, but at least i wouldn’t look like the only idiot.”

“just find someone with muscles and ask them,” she suggests.

“right, of course, because i’m so great at talking to strangers.”

nesta raises an eyebrow, her lips twitching with amusement. “so, what’s your plan then? to stand in the corner and hope the smith machine starts talking to you?”

“maybe,” you mumble, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. you didn’t even know what a smith machine was until this morning.

nesta lets out a dramatic sigh, shaking her head. “stop being such a baby and put a cute workout outfit on. you’ll be fine.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

you were very much not fine.

the blonde girl at the front desk, with her bouncing ponytail and bright smile that could probably power the entire gym, was very nice. she had given you a tour of the gym, showing you the rows of gleaming equipment and weight racks, and enthusiastically pointed out the array of classes available, from yoga and spin to high-intensity interval training.

she had, however, assumed you knew how to use everything, and you hadn’t been brave enough to correct her.

you had nodded along, trying to absorb the barrage of information she threw at you, but each machine seemed more complicated than the last, and you were positive some of them belonged in a medieval torture chamber.

but you could do this. if guys who couldn’t even spell “midterm” could end up looking like greek statues, surely you could handle a single gym session. you were smart, you were pretty. everything was going to be just fine. besides, you had watched enough fitness influencers on social media to have a vague idea of what to do. with a deep breath, you reminded yourself that everyone had to start somewhere – or at least that’s what your therapist had told you.

deciding to start your session with something familiar, you made your way over to the row of treadmills. incline walking was hard to mess up. the downside was that it made you feel like you were dying.

thirty minutes later, you were profoundly regretting your decision as you clung to the handrails, legs burning with exertion. sweat had beaded on your forehead, and you couldn’t help but curse under your breath.

with shaky legs, you made your way to the weights, steeling yourself against the familiar wave of self-doubt. this part of the gym was always crowded with an excess of men flaunting their egos, their grunts and posturing only serving to make you feel even more out of place.

you think of nesta and how she would never let anyone make her feel small. she would have your head if she thought you would let any man intimidate you.

deep breaths. everything is fine.

as you attempt to adjust the resistance on the leg press machine, your fingers fumble over the pin that holds the weight stack in place, causing the plates to clang noisily against each other. flushed and annoyed, you would love nothing more than to slink away in embarrassment.

“here, let me.” he crouches beside you and effortlessly rectifies your problem as if you hadn’t been struggling for the past ten minutes.

oh god, he looked like he could go viral on tiktok or be on the front cover of a fitness magazine.

and he was helping you.

stay calm. just ignore the fact that this might be the most beautiful man you’ve ever met.

you couldn’t help but steal glances at the way his muscles flexed beneath the fabric of his black compression shirt, each movement highlighting the definition of his arms and chest.

he was so pretty. you just hoped you didn’t look like you were dying.

“thanks,” you say, your voice coming out a little more breathless than you intended.

oh god, just breathe.

he flashes you a soft smile, “no problem. we’ve all been there.”

you’d like to say you committed to a gym membership for self-improvement.

(you would be lying.)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

before ever stepping foot in a gym, your taste in men was somewhat predictable.

you liked nerdy computer science guys you could play video games with and pretentious english lit students who gave you good book recommendations – the indoor sort.

they all tended to look like a light breeze could push them over. not the kind where you could steal their hoodies. and that was fine. you didn’t care, honest.

but then the cute guy at the gym completely ruined your usual type in men. you never imagined you’d be that into muscles, but he looked like he could toss you around like a rag doll, and you soon realised that you actually quite liked the thought.

you initially thought your crush would be harmless – glancing at him from across the room and playing out scenarios in your head.

but then he started offering to unload your plates, and showed you how different machines worked when you looked particularly confused. he would ask you to spot him, despite you both knowing you would be of zero help, and would refill your water bottle when he noticed it getting low.

he would even help to correct your form so you wouldn’t injure yourself.

that, however, had you so flustered you couldn’t even complete the full set. his hand grazing your waist made your heart pound so loudly, you were certain he could hear it. you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

you told him you had to leave early to finish your essay.

and then, like the gentleman he was, he had asked you about it the next time he saw you, and let you ramble about your major for far too long. the worst part was that he seemed genuinely interested.

you didn’t even know his name and yet you were pretty sure you wanted to have his babies.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“are you sure you really need protein powder?” elain questioned, picking up a bunch of celery for her green juices. “you can get all the vitamins and minerals you need from real food, you know.”

“but it’s so much easier to hit my protein goals with it,” you whined, clutching the tub of powder defensively.

“she’s only doing this because her crush drinks the same brand,” nesta teased, a sly grin spreading across her face as she tossed a box of granola into the cart.

“oh my god, keep your voice down,” you groaned, glancing around nervously. it was 10 pm on a wednesday. the grocery store was practically deserted, but you think you might cry if anyone overhears. “besides, it’s not just because of him. it’s practical!”

“practical,” nesta repeated, her grin widening. “sure, that’s the reason.”

“what’s his name again?" elain said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“i hate you,” you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat up. you tried to focus on the nutrition label in front of you, but nesta’s laughter made it impossible.

“come on,” nesta said, nudging you playfully. “you’ve been pining over him for months. when are you going to actually talk to him?”

“never?”

“you should accidentally bump into him and spill your protein shake all over his expensive gym clothes. it would be a brilliant conversation starter.”

“please don’t jinx me.”

“oh, and then you could do his laundry as an apology, and he’d buy you a coffee because he thinks you’re pretty!” elain chimes in.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

you’ve been working out long enough now that you knew the basics of gym etiquette. namely, don’t be creepy. a simple thing, really, but too many people struggled to act like sane, well-adjusted human beings capable of basic manners. it was as if the gym was some bizarre alternate universe where leggings made men’s brains short-circuit.

so you try very hard to not stare at your gym crush doing pull-ups.

but his biceps are flexing, his shirt is riding up, and you never knew you could be so attracted to someone’s back.

you feel like you’re twelve again – you want to write his name in a heart in your diary and talk about him for hours on the phone.

for the first time, however, you’re grateful you don’t know any concrete details about him. you would’ve stalked his social media, found out he had a girlfriend or horrible political opinions, and then cried yourself to sleep.

you’d really rather not know. hopeless yearning is much more to your taste.

but then he notices you across the room and smiles, and you realise your gym crush is very much not harmless.

you decide that you’ll be brave and actually initiate conversation for once.

a horrible idea, really.

“hey.”

“hey,” he responds.

“what are you listening to?” god, you didn’t think you were this awkward.

“oh, i don’t listen to music when i work out.”

“right, yeah, i totally get that.” you actually don’t understand that at all. the idea of exercising with just your thoughts sounds like a special kind of torture, but he doesn’t need to know that.

you fidget with the hem of your shorts, desperately searching for something else to say.

“so, uh, how’s your workout going?” he asks.

“it’s going okay,” you reply, the words tumbling out. “you?”

you want to disappear.

“yeah, it’s good too.” you swear you see a hint of pink in his cheeks, though it’s probably just from finishing his set.

your mind is blank and you have no idea what else to say. “great.”

you hope you look like you’re smiling and not grimacing.

this was quite possibly the worst idea you’ve ever had. you’re never speaking to a man again.

even if they are very pretty and look like they could pick you up without breaking a sweat.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

getting ready with three other girls in a cramped apartment was always a challenge. you loved your sisters, but if feyre didn’t get away from the mirror, you would scream.

feyre, always meticulous with her makeup, was painstakingly perfecting her eyeliner, ignoring the sighs from nesta.

“can you possibly move any slower?” nesta hisses, leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms.

you exchange a knowing look with elain, who was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, scrolling through her phone. she had opted to stay behind, and you were growing increasingly jealous of her decision.

“why don’t we just take turns?” you intervene, hoping to avoid a fight before you even got to the party. “feyre, you finish up, then nesta, and i’ll go last. sound fair?”

feyre finally steps away from the bathroom and nesta wastes no time in taking her place, muttering something about how she could do a better job in half the time.

feyre had been persistent about attending one of rhysand’s house parties for weeks now, and despite your and nesta’s reluctance, she had managed to wear you down. it wasn’t so much her persuasive arguments as it was the promise of free alcohol that ultimately swayed both of you. plus, you were a little curious. feyre had been gushing about her boyfriend for months now.

as you stood in front of the mirror, giving yourself a final once-over, you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. feyre, radiant in her navy dress, was practically buzzing with excitement. nesta looked as though she’d rather be doing anything else, despite begrudgingly admitting that the three of you looked good.

you had opted for a short, tight-fitted black dress. shocking how regularly going to the gym could actually help your confidence.

feyre led the way, practically dragging you and nesta out of the apartment. elain, now comfortably nestled on the couch with a book, waved you goodbye. “be safe, and don’t drink too much!”

“it’s so cute that you think i could survive the night without being drunk,” nesta laughs.

the cool night air is a welcome change from the stuffy apartment as the three of you step outside to wait for the cab. feyre was already chattering about rhysand and his friends, while nesta had shot her a look that could wither plants.

you really needed a drink.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

rhysand’s apartment ended up being a thirty-minute drive away, nestled in the wealthier district of velaris, and you could see why feyre spent so much time here.

you could hear the music before you even enter, and it smells so strongly of alcohol you already feel a little lightheaded.

it can hardly be called an apartment in all honesty, it’s nicer than most houses and certainly surpasses anything you’ve ever stepped foot in before. it’s spacious, with an open layout that flows effortlessly from one room to the next. plush couches and chairs face a glass coffee table that is currently covered in red plastic cups and half-finished bottles of vodka. luckily, all his furniture was black. you winced at the thought of cleaning the stains that were bound to appear after tonight.

you noticed the floor-to-ceiling windows offering a pretty view of the city skyline, the twinkling lights stretching out like a blanket of stars against the night. you weren’t the jealous type, but you had the sudden urge to strangle feyre.

she had navigated the apartment with ease, her eyes alight with familiarity as she disappeared in search of rhysand. left to fend for yourselves, you and nesta exchanged a glance before setting off in the direction of the kitchen.

as you weave through the throng of people, you catch sight of mor, effortlessly manoeuvring between guests as she pours drinks. she seems completely at ease, flashing dazzling smiles and looking stunning as ever.

mor’s eyes light up with recognition as she spots you among the crowd. with a beckoning gesture, she calls you over. “i didn’t think you two would be here!” she seems genuinely happy to see you, despite only talking to her after class a couple of times.

“our sister is dating the host, so naturally, we’ve been dragged along,” you reply. “she’s off hunting him down now.”

mor’s gaze shifts between you and nesta, realisation crossing her features. “rhysand is actually my cousin,” she explains with a smile. “so, i’ve met feyre a few times now.”

“that’s unfortunate,” nesta laughs. you’re pretty sure she’s only half-joking.

you elbow her. “come on, don’t be mean. i don’t want to be kicked out after five minutes of being here.”

“are you sure? we could go get pizza and ice cream and not wake up feeling like we were hit by a car?”

“are you seriously the voice of reason right now?”

“hey, if you’re going to the gym, then i can be a responsible adult.”

mor perks up, her eyes brightening with interest. “you work out?”

you smile sheepishly, “i only started a few months ago.”

“you should join me sometime!” mor suggests eagerly. “i usually go with rhysand and a few others, but one of them hasn’t shown up in ages. it’d be great to have another girl!”

“speaking of which, i should introduce you to them,” mor adds with a grin before calling out, “azriel! cassian! get over here!”

and then you spot who is walking over.

“mor, what’s up?” a very familiar voice asks.

because, you realise, it’s your gym crush. it’s the guy you’ve been pining over for months.

your brain is really struggling to comprehend that he’s here, and he knows mor, and apparently rhysand?

has he met feyre too?

he’s wearing all black, like usual, and his biceps look even better in this lighting, and oh god, you want to melt into the ground before you somehow think of a new way to embarrass yourself.

your mind is racing a hundred miles per hour and you’re suddenly realising you’re going to have to avoid feyre’s boyfriend forever if he’s friends with him and –

and as your eyes meet his, and realisation flickers across his features, you’re really wishing you had stayed at home with elain.

or vanish into thin air. that works too.

“az, these are feyre’s sisters!” mor’s voice breaks through your thoughts.

you’ve finally learnt his name, you suppose, but you’re pretty sure you’ll have to find a new gym.

776 notes · View notes

punken316 · 2 years ago

Text

Felt like trying a bit of first person with Thorne.

- - - - -

This is the story of my death. Or they thought it was my death. They shot me a few times and dumped me in a river. No big deal right?

Except by all accounts I should have died. It hurt like hell and I sure couldn't swim like that. So how am I here telling you this? Because, according to Rose, I am like a cockroach. Hard to get rid of and even harder to kill. I'm a tenacious bastard you might say.

And because someone apparently pulled me out of that river and saved my life. Never got to meet 'em. Don't remember much about that time either, was outta my mind for most of that. I remember a human shape helping me and all that, but when I was finally able to sit myself up, they were gone, left that abandoned cabin like they were never there.

Wish I could have thanked them with drinks or something, but what's done is done. Soon as the sun came up I stumbled out of those woods and right back to Rose.

So more like this is how I should have does, but didn't because I'm a stubborn cockroach bastard. And because of that stranger.

#oc Thorne #my writing

0 notes

siriuslystyle1989 · 3 months ago

Text

Get Back Here!

Azriel x fem!Reader

warnings: VERY slight illusions to sex, fluff, Az being perfect.

masterlist

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

Clouded light billowed through the loose curtains, falling onto the curve of Azriel's shoulder as he began to stir.

Slowly, the Illyrian blinked away sleep, reaching out a hand for his mate.

Alas, he was met with nothing but layers of bedsheet.

Rubbing his hazel eyes, Azriel propped himself up on his elbows, looking around for Y/n.

However, his shadows seemed to beat him to it as they waltzed off towards the bathroom where the muffled sound of someone washing their hands could be heard.

The bathroom door clicked open to reveal Y/n. Clad in nothing but one of Azriel's shirts.

Azriel felt a familiar heat rise in his chest, a feeling of awe that still hadn't ceased in all their years of marriage.

"Good morning sleepy." Y/n chuckled, looking at Azriel with adoration in her eyes

His shadows began to swirl around her, Clearly just as smitten as their owner.

Azriel groaned, silently willing Y/n to get back into bed with him.

"You okay?" Y/n asked, genuine concern lacing her features as she gazed back at him.

"I will be if you get back here." He replied, his voice still remnant of sleep.

She giggled slightly but nodded, finding herself being pushed by his shadows already.

As Y/n began to near the bed, Azriel reached out his arms until his scarred hands met her waist, pulling her down on top of him.

Her head met his bare chest and Azriel let out a sigh of relief as he lazily threw a wing over her, cradling the girl.

"Az, as much as I would love to stay here cuddled up all day, we have to go to that meeting Rhys wanted us to attend" She spoke, cupping Azriel's face as he ran a hand up and down her back.

"I'm sure someone can fill us in." He replied kissing her hair, breathing in her scent.

"And anyway, it's a Saturday." Azriel added almost like he was trying to convince his mate to stay.

"Yeah, alright." Y/n replied, not sounding all too convinced.

"We'll have to see because-" Azriel cut her off with a shushing sound, lightly stroking her hair.

"I love to hear your voice sweetheart, really I do, but sleep, relax baby. It's still early."

Y/n let out a small giggle and moved up to lightly kiss his lips, then bury herself In the crook of his neck.

"Fine but only because I love you."

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

A/n: The Azriel obsession runs DEEP.

tysm for all of the love on my last few posts I really appreciate it <3

700 notes · View notes

zazikels · 11 days ago

Text

❤️ → Between us, I like Neve.

301 notes · View notes

bxlladxnnabxtch · 4 months ago

Text

Desertion & Destruction

Rhysand x Reader

❀🇲🇦🇸🇹🇪🇷🇱🇮🇸🇹❀

Summary: Rhysand discovering you had left didn't go as gracefully as anyone expected.

Read Pt. 1 of Desertion & Destruction - HERE

Read Pt. 5 - HERE

Warnings: Blood, Yelling, Violence, Angst.

By the time Rhys had realized you’d left the Night Court, you were already over the border.

And Feyre stood, stunned and faintly terrified over the chaos that ensued.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN SHES GONE?” Rhys was livid, indescribably so. His instincts were clawing at him, screaming at him to go after you. He could barely think through the chorus in his head yelling at him that you had left, you were gone. The logical, High Lord thinking part of himself said that he couldn’t do anything, couldn’t go after you. You were over the border, out of his court, and with tensions as high as they already were, he couldn’t risk walking into another court. They would take it as an unspoken declaration of war, especially considering he sent no correspondence beforehand- and that he was so close to Amarantha Under the Mountain. He was stuck.

A cornered animal is almost as dangerous as a wounded one.

Unfortunately for Azriel, Rhys was both.

“She left yesterday and headed straight for the border.” Azriel spoke matter-of-factly, as if he was giving a mundane report to his High Lord about observations he had made while out on a mission. He didn’t owe anything to Rhys, not after the way he had treated you. Right now, he was his brother, first and foremost, High Lord status be damned.

“And you helped her?” Rhys asked incredulously, a scowl upturning his features that had Azriel’s feet spreading, back straightening. Cassian tensed from beside them, noting the warrior stance Azriel had casually slipped into. He became mildly concerned about where this conversation was headed, and if the streets outside the townhouse would survive Azriel and Rhys duking it out in the middle of the entryway.

“What would you rather have me do? Leave her to rot like you did?” Azriel hissed through his teeth, shadows stirring from their dormancy. Rhys bristled, a flash of unrestrained power flared through his violet irises, lighting them up and making them shine with an iridescent hue. The ground rumbled beneath them, the movement causing Cassian to tense, shooting a concerned look at Azriel.

“Easy.” He warned, the tension becoming thicker with each passing second. He could tell Rhys was getting too riled up, his rage combined with his instincts roaring at him to go after you and his power that was no doubt bucking against its restraints, this could turn deadly real fast- too fast. Morrigan stepped in front of Feyre the slightest bit, watching the conversation pan out. Despite how heated it was getting, she seemed content to let them sort it out amongst themselves, although that didn’t stop her from urging Feyre to get behind her should things go south.

Azriel’s siphons blazed a bright sapphire.

He continued, “Turn my affections on to another fae?” He asked, waving his hand toward Feyre in a gesture that told the group he didn’t care much for her. Rhys’ figure grew taunt, like a spring that was wrung tight, ready to launch at a moment’s notice “Plaster posters around when she slips your leash?”

Cassian barely had time to blink before Rhys had Azriel up against the wall. The house shook from the impact, pictures falling off the wall and smashing on the ground as a yelp sounded from behind Cassian. Whether it was from Feyre or Morrigan, he didn’t know- didn’t turn around to find out. Rhys seethed, his forearm against the shadowsingers throat as he bared his teeth. “Don’t talk about my mate.”

Azriel wondered at what point his loyalty had turned over to you. Him and his brothers had grown up together. They had fought countless battles- killed thousands, and saved each other more times than they could count. But still, staring at Rhys as he was pinned to the wall, his High Lords arm digging into his neck as he felt a tremor shake the house under his barely restrained power- he knew he’d gone wrong somewhere.

Cassian jumped in, tearing Rhys off of Azriel as the High Lord struggled to push through him. Azriel ignored Cassian’s attempt to break it up, despite the shout of warning Cassian had shot at him. Azriel stepped forward, inches away from Rhys’ face as he snarled “You abandoned her just like you did Under the Mountain.”

Rhys had plowed through Cassian and was on Azriel in a second. Cassian barely had time to react as he stumbled back, attempting to regain his balance. Mor immediately turned around, ushering a panic-stricken Feyre up the stairs of the townhouse as Rhys and his spymaster threw each other to the ground.

The first punch landed directly in the center of Azriel’s face, making him recoil slightly before sending Rhys into a side table in the entrance to the foyer. Only a grunt left him, barely an acknowledgement of the wood that had slammed into his side before they lurched at each other again.

They scuffled on the ground for a moment, Rhys crawling on top of Azriel as the spymaster attempted to shift his weight, aiming to flip him over. His attempts ultimately failed as he was slugged again, his head being sent careening, cracking against the hardwood floors. He felt it collide, the blinding pain that shot through his head and down his spine, throbbing in his temples. He grit his teeth, his siphons fluttering, the light flickering until it came to a head.

A blast of blue light collided into Rhys, sending him into the wall behind him. A crack formed in the drywall as he hit, the sound audible in the once chaotic room that now sat still. A groan sounded from Rhys as he slumped down the wall, the pain no doubt incapacitating him for the time being.

Before one of them could regain their bearings and go at it again, his shadows swarmed him in a frenzy. It was almost as if they were panicked, the way they zipped around him. He felt the warm blood leak from his nose as he heard the first whisper. A murmur, almost like a graze as it spoke, mutterings of your journey, a fall, a broken wing.

Fuck.

Azriel hadn’t even given half a thought to the mating bond before he and Rhys went at it- of how it would affect you. Though before he could scramble to his feet and rush to you, a voice sounded from behind him.

“Cauldron boil me, what happened in here?”

His head rang, and a jolt of pain zapped through him as he looked up to find Amren staring directly at him, Mor at her side as she looked between him and Rhys. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to will away the headache that began to set in from the blow to the head. “Words were exchanged.” Azriel gritted out, ignoring Cassian as he arched a brow in slight amusement. Mor let out a whistle as she surveyed the foyer, the broken table, dented floorboards, and the pictures that lay shattered on the floor.

“No shit, I was wondering which ones had you willing to blow the entirety of Velaris apart.” Amren said, not sounding too enthused at the state of the room. She sent a pointed looked to the crack in the wall, the drywall caving in slightly and exposing the stunts underneath. Azriel rubbed his temples as he sat up on his knees, one hand coming to brace himself on the hardwood. “The ones that told Rhys he’s been a shit mate.” Azriel quipped, a layer of frustration edging his tone as he couldn’t stop the headache from raging on. “Ah.” Amren tutted, dark hair swaying with her steps as she walked up to the High Lord. “Get up.”

Rhys blinked blearily, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as Amren’s eyes shone with a flicker of that foreign power. It had appeared Rhys had his fill of fighting for the day, and rose to his feet without complaint, only a muffled groan of pain leaving him as he heaved himself up the wall.

Amren snapped her fingers toward Mor, nodding her head towards Rhys as she helped him steady himself. Mor seemed to understand as she let out an annoyed sigh, making her way over to the two as Rhys braced himself on the wall. Mor clicked her tongue as she gave Rhys a once over, but spared the ladder any further comments as she grabbed hold of him and Amren. The trio disappeared in a plume of black smoke, leaving Cassian and Azriel in the decimated foyer.

Cassian let out a snort, his steps avoiding the dents along the scuffed floor as Azriel grimaced weakly. Cassian held out a hand in expectation, waiting a beat before Azriel took it and he hauled him up. Azriel stumbled, tripping over his own footing as he struggled to keep upright. Cassian tsked. “Last time you had a concussion was 120 years ago.” Azriel shot him a glare, flinching when he felt another jolt of pain throb through his temples. He ignored Cassian’s comment, instead gesturing to the vacant space where Rhys once stood. “Where’d they go?”

“The House.” Cassian said, watching Azriel as he made his way towards the townhouse steps. “Figured you two needed a little time apart.” Azriel huffed a laugh as he sat down onto the steps rather ungracefully. A small grin tugged at Cassian’s lips as he watched his brother fumble. “And I take it Amren’s appearance was also your idea?” Azriel asked rhetorically.

Azriel never intended for this to get out of hand. A would’ve been quiet conversation had turned into a shitshow, and he didn’t know whether to feel bad or justified that the family seemed to have been picking sides. “It’s not my fault she’s the only one who can seem to get you two off of each other.” Cassian chuckled at his own joke, the laugh ringing out through the silent house. Cassian knew Feyre was upstairs and had probably heard everything that had gone down, but part of him was glad she wasn’t there to see the brunt of it. A hell of a first impression she got.

Cassian’s smirk fell at Azriel’s lack of response. He noted the way he stared at the ground, watching the blood from his nose drip and splatter on the floorboards, staining the wood. “You care for her don’t you.” Azriel seemed to snap out of his reverie at the mention of you, his eyes glancing off to the side as he huffed incredulously. “I care about all of you.”

Cassian pursed his lips, surveying the bloodied spymaster. He sighed, looking down at the ground as he shook his head knowingly. “You know that’s not what I meant.” His tone had gone soft, Azriel gritted his teeth. He didn’t bother to respond to the remark, instead slumping against his hand that had come to cradle his head.

Cassian laid a hand on his shoulder, giving him a pat of goodwill. “Keep me updated.” He said gently, before strolling past him and up the stairs.

489 notes · View notes

acotarxreader · 1 month ago

Text

Vicious little thing

Eris x Reader

Synopsis: Dressmaker for the Inner Circle was the dream job turn mundane nightmare, all in Court you could never quite warm to. A chance encounter with the infamous son of Autumn leaves you wondering if there's more to life than what it seams (get it lol cause seams not seems)

Warnings: Flirting, banter, Eris pissing Cassian off, angst, descriptions of injury, two males being creepy (but don't worry protective Eris on the scene), jealous Eris, a lil violence and torture, Lucien being an MVP as always

A/N: You guys!! I just have not been in the headspace for writing but I had this written awhile back and I just want to shout out and thank @ninthcircleofprythian @pit-and-the-pen @lady-of-tearshed for helping me out! Let me know as well guys if you have any requests, might get my brain going

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

Of all the places in Night you had accompanied the Inner Circle to, Hewn City was comfortless to you, a specific cold that followed you throughout the Court only amplified off the the dripping stalactites. The slippery cobblestone streets echoed as you moved with slight tension in your steps, fresh supplies tucked under your arm. You practically counted the seconds to when you would reunite with your home deep within the House of Wind, the only place in Night Court with any ounce of warmth for your bones.

A loud bar leaked patrons onto the street, all desperate to escape their daily drivel at the bottom of a keg. Two somewhat large males leaned against the entrance, shouting loud slurs of profanity you ignored while passing, hoping to fade into the background and evade any attention. Unfortunately, you were unsuccessful and soon after felt the eyes of distorted drunken desire bore into your back as your pace quickened.

“Hey, gorgeous where’s the fire?” The voice of pure rust and smoke made the hair on your neck stand up, their footsteps getting louder with the shrinking distance.

“Oh, no manners baby? How refreshing” The other let a slimy sick laugh leave him as his knotty hand finally caught hold of your forearm, whipping you back to face them, the beautiful fabric sailing to the floor to mop up a muddy puddle.

“Leave me the fuck alone!” The lines on your forehead deepened with disgust as you bent down to retrieve the dripping material.

“Or…” The ever so slightly taller one caught you more roughly by the arm before hauling you forward, dragging you into the mouth of an alley, the other acting as reinforcement.

“Let go of me!” Pure panic left your voice, your head darting side to side for an out as your back was pressed into crumbling brick under your vibrating bones.

“You have to give us a few things first baby” One leaned forward into you as you braced, your wrist being crushed by the other fae, their movement suddenly halting with the addition of a new voice.

“I don’t think she’s interested fellas” The three of you found your gaze darting towards the tall figure at the end of the alley, a shoulder resting against one wall, hands casually in his pockets as if he wasn’t about to witness a crime against nature. The grip was released on one of your wrists, the taller male unmoving from in front of you while his accomplice began to square off to the still slightly obscured fae.

Your eyes dropped cautiously down to your side to your bag, trained nimbleness in your hands had you retrieving your fabric sheers, launching them immediately into the thigh of your current captor. A near-deafening roar was released alongside your other arm, the figure at the end of the alley instantly floored the other male with a wave of unseen power.

You scurried down the alley in the opposite direction of the three, your hands covered in a fine layer of blood that you wiped on your trembling thighs. A flush of heat came from behind you as you reached the mouth of the alley. A curious glance had you witness your perpetrators turned to mounds of ash, the sight turning your stomach into waves of unease. The thought of meeting a similar fate had your feet moving again, only to come flush against a wall-like figure.

“Where are you going? No thank you?” Eris towered in front of you, a self-satisfied smile scanning unbeknownst to you for any sign of injury.

“I-um-than-k thank you, General” The words were a rush of syllables followed by a deep curtsey, before you move down the street again, eager to get away from the infamous male. You heard Eris scoff a laugh before he spoke again.

“Well okay then Ice Princess, maybe next time I’ll leave you?”

“Do you want a medal or something for doing the right thing?” Once again your tracks were stopped but this time by your own brazen words and the silence from behind you. Turning on the ball of your foot you reluctantly faced the future High Lord, his hands still in his pockets, lips pursed in thought. He could kill you for your insolence and no one would challenge him, you were not even sure anyone would notice you missing until their trousers reached their knees.

“Huh, cute-” He smirked, closing the distance between you in a few long strides “-maybe I do want a medal” You found yourself scoffing at his words, a small blaze seemingly igniting in his eyes at the sound.

“Get in line, General” A certain playfulness danced in his eyes at your teasing tone, normally not the response he’d elicit from others. You could feel something subtly different in the air, something missing from the mountain’s mist. “Please, call me Eris, or Savouir, lady’s choice” He outstretched a hand you somewhat hesitantly took, not going unnoticed by the son of Autumn. You realised on contact that it was the everpresent chill that you felt that had made its exit from you, flushes of warmth heating your cells gently. Eris turned your hand over in his, scanning over the callouses and their tinge of fresh maroon.

“A street fighter?” He laughed, eyes tracing the hardened skin. “Dressmaker, for the Night Court” You smiled, taking your hand back, missing the steady pulse of heat his fingers supplied.

“Laborious crowd” His laugh returned the missing warmth to your skin and you found yourself smiling back at the towering male.

“YN?” Your whole body shook at Lucien’s voice across the street, his arms full of freshly purchased supplies for his small apartment in the city. You looked between the two males as Lucien crossed the street to join your side, Eris’s smugness only growing. You and the Prince of Foxes were relatively new friends, his exit from the Spring Court required a whole new wardrobe that you skillfully made.

“Stay away from her Eris” “Oh brother, save us the martyr act” He sighed in almost boredom, amber gaze landing back on you where you could have sworn it softened, no matter how brief. That gentle element died when Lucien’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to his side.

“Is that blood on you YN?!” the closer proximity opened you to Lucien’s full mother-hen inspection.

“Yes it is but not hers, quite the vicious little thing you have here” The air of self-righteousness returned to Eris, his best shield to whatever was bubbling deep beneath.

“Thimble, what happened?” You noticed Eris subtle flinch at Lucien’s pet name for you as he attempted to ignore his brother's presence altogether. You hated the nickname, it made you feel small, and inexperienced, despite being older than Lucien. It began when he remarked on the coarseness of your hands on his skin during a fitting, suggesting a thimble may stave off further damage. You would never see the point in covering what your years of experience had rewarded you with, the scars on your hands were evidence of a master at work, and a thimble would only hide away your efforts although that was a recurring theme for you in the Night Court you felt.

“Thimble seems an odd nickname, aren’t they supposed to protect you from pricks? And yet here you are Lucien” Your head lowered slightly to hide the deep smirk growing across your face at Eris’s dig, Lucien unable to continue to ignore him.

“I’ll have you kn-” “-Lucien, we have to get back, I’m not finished with a dress” You cut across any possible rebuttal, eager to get out of the thick air between the two brothers, Lucien smiled softly at you before glaring back at Eris. You tilted your head to Eris again in an almost bow, twisting Lucien’s stomach as you began your fruitless journey back to Nesta.

“Very good little lapdog Lucien, I’d watch her around scissors” He called after the two of you, his own amusement radiating from his voice.

The ball was organised chaos at best, swelling music and overserved fae had you hiding out in the corner of the venue. Not your normal scene however Nesta had begged you to come, if only to witness your beautiful work in action. You had sacrificed one of Feyre’s many dresses as donor fabric to patch together what you could of Nesta’s outfit, neglecting to tell her that of course.

“YN, this is so borrrrring” Nesta found you through the crowds, sneaking away from her role at the dais alongside her sister. It had been a few hours since the incident, a glass of wine only taking a sliver of the tension you felt about it from you.

“Don’t worry Nesta, hopefully it won’t be much lo…” you trailed off, your eyes snagging on Eris across the vast dance floor as he both dazzled and terrified the participants in the conversation he held.

“At least he’s not bad to look at” Nesta tilted her head to the side, inspecting her mission with curiosity as he glided through the crowd.

“Lucien says he’s torturous”

“Bet he’s good in bed” You elbowed her for her comment as she laughed, the whole conversation making you feel like giddy children.

“Perhaps he’ll make a good pallet cleanser from Cassian” she added. “Cassian who’s trying to melt him with his eyes right now, right?” You grinned, Nesta taking a stolen glance at the slowly boiling Illyrian. When Nesta wanted something, she got it and this very core defining personality trait of hers terrified you. You had been on board with the plan up until your own encounter with the heir and yet now you found yourself empathetic to Cassian’s jealousy, no matter how unfounded you felt it may be. The very voice that saved you earlier pulled your attention back into the room.

“Hello again YN, I was wondering-” “-Who your friend is? Eris, have I really to remind you of my person” Nesta tone leeched a pure sultry decorum you would never be able to mirror. Her body stood slightly in front of you, a hand extended to reacquaint herself with the High Fae, new beats of jealousy pulsed in your veins as they made contact. Your skin crawled and boiled all at once, further tension only being added by Cassian's surveying across the floor.

“Go find something to busy yourself with YN” Her voice was firm but said with a smile, forever toeing the line between friend and employer. You watched as Nesta masterfully led Eris to the dance floor and began to light the room ablaze with her ease of movement. The room watched on as the two slotted into one another like a lock and a key, your eyes landed on your shoes, anywhere but on the scene in front of you.

“C’mon dear friend, let's see your moves” You looked at the unfurled hand of your dear new friend in front of you, Lucien’s soft smile accompanying it. You laughed lightly as you allowed him to lead you to the dancefloor.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather dance with Elain?”

“But I’d miss you stepping on my toes” he teased as your head tilted back and laughed, despite knowing the answer to your question was of course yes. Now and then while being swirled by the Prince of Foxes, your eyes would cross the path of Eris’s before Nesta stole back the attention. A successful mission up until Cassian’s jealousy could no longer be snuffed out.

—--------------------------------------------------

The gentle pitter-patter of drizzle off the window pane of your workspace filled the room, your hands busy at work, humming along to a tune you heard weeks ago while dancing with Lucien. Back home in the warmest of colds available to you, squirrelled away in mounds of fabric and projects.

Your hands stilled at the din of distant shouting many floors up through the house. Often you’d ignore any rumblings from upstairs but the familiar sound of a male you’d spent your time trying to forget had your curious feet wandering in the direction of the source.

“You’re incredulous!” “No, you are!” You peeked through the gap in the huge door that led to one of the grand dining rooms, the two brothers in a stand-off across the large oak table, Rhysand glaring between the two.

“And you couldn’t have stopped our dear darling father from travelling to Briallyn’s continent?!” Lucien barked, the table shaking slightly. Cassian matched Lucien’s scowl towards Eris, who only allowed a sickly laugh to leave him.

“And expose myself and this little alliance? I don’t think so little brother! Alec, our father's dear advisor is already getting too curious.”

“Oh no, nothing to inconvenience yourself!” You flinched slightly at Lucien’s razor-like tone.

“I have inconvenienced myself every day for you!” Eris’s hand shot forward in a dramatic gesture, knocking the large goblet of wine across the table, soaking Lucien as he leapt up from the cold.

“Fuck! You did that on purpose!” He reached for his napkin to blot the deep stain with no success, Eris now also standing in his own defence.

“It was an accident, much like your birth, do as I did and make peace with it!” Eris grinned until Lucien swished a wrist, a small ball of flame leaving his fingertips, singeing the jacket and waistband of Eris’s immaculate suit.

“Lucien!”

“It was an accident” Lucien mimicked, Rhysand now finding his own feet, feeling grateful not to have had any biological brothers.

“Enough! We must leave to meet the other High Lords in an hour and you two are squabbling like children! Lucien, go home and find a new pair of trousers-” Lucien very much looked the role of scolded schoolchild as he winnowed out before further reprimanding “- and you-” Rhysand turned full attention to Eris, who only rolled his shoulders back to accompany a raised eyebrow “-you go and find a curtain or something to wear because if you fuck this meeting up, I will kill you where you stand”

“Aww do you promise-” Eris batted his eyelashes in faux excitement “-I don’t take orders from you”

“Fine, go smelling like a bonfire, see if Rhys and I care” Cassian shot out.

“Perhaps I left some clothes here after I visited with Nesta the other night” Cassian practically leapt from his chair, Rhysand catching hold of his forearm leaving Eris unshaken.

“Eris, go be anywhere but here”

“I’d suggest down on your deathbed, I can help you” Cassian chewed out accompanying Rhysand’s order.

“The only place I’d go down on is the lovely Nesta” Rhysand released Cassian in an instant, springing the warrior over the table, your instinct having you whip the door back on its hinges, the entrance stilling Cassian in confusion as he caught Eris’s collar.

“I’ll help make something!” You rushed out, unsure of why you were eager to rescue Eris even if it gave away your eavesdropping.

“YN, know your place” Rhysand warned.

“I mean- c’mon S-sir you have to leave soon and let's be honest, there’ll be questions about why a lord of fire is-is emm burned…or why his face is in pieces for that matter” You watched Cassian release the wrinkled collar, exhaling deeply and jump from the dining table to the floor before striding over to you.

“At least stab him a few times with pins”

“Deal” you laughed before standing aside in the doorway for Cassian and Rhysand to pass.

After arriving at your workroom, a flush of self-conscious energy rushed you at the mess you had been living and working in, now under the scrutiny of the son of Autumn. Towers of discarded and active projects cast shadows along the stone of the space, his eyes inspecting the smaller details of the room as you pulled out fabric rolls from the wall. You couldn’t help but notice the warmth in the tall shadows not there previously, its addictive nature nipping at your skin.

“Jacket” You ordered, a hand out to take the sooty material, Eris obliging wholeheartedly, surprising even himself. He watched you inspect it closely, attempting to hide his wonder of you as you sighed. He thought how he would very much love to watch you work, how he may very well do anything you asked of him and how foreign that very feeling was. “Sloppy stitching, conjured I suppose not handmade?” He nodded in confirmation to your question, doing his best to hide his amazement at your assessment.

“I don’t think this is your colour-” “-Excuse you, this green is one of my court colours, how can it not be my colour?” Eris' anger startled you, snapping you out of your dressmaker autopilot, remembering your company. “Sorry-I emm- not your tone shall we say” Your panicked voice was only silenced by a laugh from Eris.

“Just kidding YN, I’m not offended” “Just a prick” You whispered to yourself as you slipped a pin cushion over your wrist, Eris smiling from behind you. You pointed at the step riser in the corner of the room for Eris to stand on as you gathered your treasure trove of supplies.

“Take off your trousers” You threaded the soft measuring tape through your fingers from behind him.

“Not going to buy me dinner first?” He raised his eyebrow to you with a grin you felt that maybe not everyone got to see, his hands undoing what was left of the waistband before he shook off the fragile fabric, leaving him in his undergarments. You took a deep quiet breath before sinking to crouch alongside him, measuring the length of his leg.

“On your knees so soon” You stood instantly again, pushing him playfully, stilling almost as soon as you had moved.

“Sorry I-” “-I won’t bite you YN, not unless you ask” he winked, causing you to bite the inside of your cheek begging your body not to grin back, instead just resuming your measurements. “I should have let Cassian kill you” You whispered by his calf as he looked down at you.

“There she is, there’s who’s fun to play with” You could hear his smile, just as you took a pin from the holder strapped to your wrist, poking him into his ankle. He hissed, rolling his ankle slightly away from you as you stood again.

“That was for the Nesta comments” You put the pin into the cuff of your sleeve, retrieving your scissors and cutting strips of a deep red fabric without the measure, all the knowledge within your head accompanied with years of skill.

“I was just bored and the big bat is an easy target. I have no intentions of pursuing Lady Death, don’t be jealous” He watched you in the mirror as if afraid to blink and you’d disappear. You forced your focus closer to your cutting, Eris slipping from the step to stalk closer to you.

“Why would I be jealous? I don't even know you” “Odd, I feel like I know you… but regardless, I’d imagine you’d be jealous if your relationship with my darling brother isn’t all you want it to be” You whipped around to him in shock, scissors still in hand. Eris put his hands up in faux surrender while glancing at the scissors, your eyes rolling again, placing the instrument behind you.

“What? Me and Lucien?” You laughed wholeheartedly, Eris tilting his head to the sound, stepping from the riser.

“No?” “Now who’s jealous?” he only scoffed at you in reply.

“Heirs do not get jealous, they get what they want” His somewhat serious tone sent a shiver down your spine, the distance seemingly shrinking between you.

“And what does this heir want?” “Hmm” he hummed leaning forward into the gap, that tempting heat pulling you towards him, every cell screaming for the temperature in your skin to increase, to meet with his, to reach inferno.

“YN, do you have a spare-what’s going on in here?” Lucien stood in the doorway, his suit jacket in his hand, a missing button by the collar.

“Ever the best for timing dear brother” Eris squared his stance, turning to face his kin as you wished the earth to swallow you whole.

“Let's not get into it in front of the Lady.-” Lucien rolled his shoulders back, unshaken by the sharp tone of his brother “-Thimble, please could you reattach this button? It was the one I used magic to affix and you were right, it didn’t hold” You gave a soft smile, taking it from his hands, reluctantly crossing the path between the two.

“Come, dear brother, leave my lovely YN to work” Lucien stood back in the doorway to leave space for Eris to pass. A rush of intense heat radiated from Eris at his brother's endearment towards you, his knuckles cracking as fists formed.

“Won’t you need me for the rest of the fitting?” He looked at you, eyes asking you to beg him to stay.

“I-” “-YN is used to finishing projects down here without the muse, she works better alone right YN?” You nodded slightly at Lucien, his voice no longer toeing the line between friend and employer, the latter taking full effect. You sank back to your work table, tacking together the fabric as Lucien guided Eris away from you, Eris slipped back on the remnants of his trousers before reluctantly leaving. The cold rushed to your bones again as the faint sound of their bickering filled the halls.

—-------------------------------

Two weeks later

Thoughts of Eris crossed your mind while looking down on the vast woodland of coppers and bronze through a window taller than him. The flickers of rust and chestnut hues pulled you towards them like a moth to flame. You had never been in an environment like it, so famously cold but surprisingly warming to your inner world. Beron had insisted on holding a dinner with Night Court in his home, still believing his trip to Briallyn’s continent was undiscovered.

“Okay, we go, we hear what nonsense he’s peddling and we compare notes when we get home?” The Inner circle nodded in agreement to their High Lord as he knotted his cufflink into place before outstretching the same hand for you to adjust. Just as quick Nesta called for your attention as Azriel covered a more specific game plan. Nesta had insisted you accompany her, and help to ready her for the meeting, no matter how many times you reminded her that that was very much so not part of your job.

“It's fine YN stop fidgeting!” She snapped at you, tugging the end of her dress from your grip before she leapt from the riser to take Cassian’s arm as they moved to leave for dinner. You knew she didn’t mean to take you so sharply, she was just stressed, they were all stressed. They were always stressed, they never meant to snap at you, or at least that's what you convinced yourself of.

“We should have left you home where you would be safe” Lucien said softly, pulling you from the step riser again, his thumb sweeping over the back of your hand. You couldn’t help but notice how different his touch was from Eris, and how you wished it was him with you now not Lucien.

“Stay here YN, I hate it here as much as you, I’ll be as quick as I can back to you” He gave another smile before following the Inner Circle, closing the heavy door behind him. Did you hate it here, you wondered as you wandered around the room at the edge of Forest House, secluded away as you always were in these venues.

You couldn’t help but listen to a vibrant voice in the back of your mind, beckoning you to come out and play.

The distant echos of grandeur filled the halls from the dining room at the opposite end of the hall as you crept down the stoneway in the opposite direction. Before realising it, you step to a servant entrance of the grand house, whispers of Autumn guiding you through a place so new yet familiar. Your fingertips hardly made contact with the bronze of the handle before a large weight was thrown deep into your side. Overwhelming, almost suffocating heat swallowed the screams you shrieked, accompanied by a heavy hand as all pulled you from the hallway to an adjacent hallway pantry.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Eris released his hold on you, a flicker of flame leaking from his hand illuminating the closet. You doubled over, arms swaddling your stomach as you caught the breath shocked out of you. Eris's characteristic ironing-board-like posture softened at the sight.

“I-I didn’t mean to frighten you”

“What-what the-” Eris’s hand reached for your arm, worry radiating before you cut off the action “-what the fuck is wrong with you?! You don’t just grab someone like that!” You righted yourself again, hands finding your hips as the oxygen found your lungs again.

“Oh, you’re okay, I thought you lost your damn fucking mind coming here!” unfamiliar sharpness crossed his tongue as you scoffed at his heated whisper.

“I’m here working” “Working? Those morons have no idea what bringing you here could cause!” His hands ran through his hair in frustration, the light flickering with the movement.

“I won’t cause anything!-” You watched him drag his hands from his hair down his face in pure exasperation “-except it seems a headache for you” You grinned and as much as he fought it, he mirrored you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the dinner?” “And aren’t you supposed to be in your cave of endless fabric?” You rolled your eyes at his rebuttal, moving to pass him only to have a soft touch take hold of your arm. The thud of a palm-sized book tumbling out of his pocket had both your gazes dropping. Surprisingly, you were first to retrieve the ornate book, its cover decorated with expansive drawings of the wood surrounding the Forest House.

“Your diary?” You grinned, offering it back to him.

“It’s actually…it’s actually nothing” You pulled it back into you at his ever so slightly panicked tone.

“So it is your diary?” You laughed gently, a slight rush of red growing across the Prince of Autumn's cheeks.

“Its-its a collection of..of poetry I’m working on” He admitted, fighting his way through growing embarrassment as his eyes fixated on the leather in your hand. You smiled down again at the cover, at the idea of a softer Eris locked behind these pages, a glimpse into his world.

“We have to get you out of here” He said abruptly, as if eager to shift topics away from his hidden hobby. “Fine, I’ll ask Lucien to bring me back there” A pulse of heat radiated between you.

“I’ll bring you”

“Won’t that impact the whole double agent incognito thing” You smirked, trying your best to not look down towards his gentle hold on you.

“I’m sure if I murdered Lucien that would impact things more”

“Remember Eris, I told you that shade of green wasn’t your colour” Silence swaddled the forgotten closet.

“That’s the first time you’ve said my name” The sound of his moniker sent Eris’s grip tightening slightly on your arm. “I’m sorry, was it saviour you preferred?” You hardly whispered, the swift movement that followed had your back pressed into the adjacent wall, Eris’s hand resting above your head, trapping you in the addictive warmth.

“As long as I’m the one you call for, I don’t care what you call me” he allowed himself to confess.

“This feels like a mistake”

“So was trying to hurt you, I enjoyed every lick of flame that torched those males YN and if it had been any other male other than my brother to dance with you that night they would have met a similar fate” Eris’s smoky voice admitted quietly, amber eyes trapping you in their heat. A warm palm found its way to your waist, ushering you closer to the High Fae behind the walls of an enemy Court.

“So you were jealous?” “Shut up and let me kiss you” Every drop of your blood was heated with the perfect pressure that met your lips and your hand instinctively took a fistful of his shirt pulling him tighter into you. You felt his fingers knot deeply into your hair as his other hand tightened its grip, your mouths slotting over one another in perfect synchronicity.

“You’re so delicate YN, your Court’s best kept secret and this world's greatest beauty, I feel like a moth to your flame-” Eris’s voice came out husky, starved for your touch “-I couldn’t explain it to myself why I felt like walking around that cursed city that day, the Mother must have known I’d meet you, that I would be drawn to you, that I burn for you” his thumb brushed over your cheek as you rested your head in the palm of his hand. A rush of cold met your skin as Eris fully pulled from you, your balance rocking slightly.

“Did-did I do something?” Eris sighed at your words, a hand tracing through his hair before he turned to face you, eyes ablaze.

“I-I really feel like you may be worth every risk in this entire world but I am not and I will not risk your safety for my own desire”

“I can protect myself Eris” “Not from what would seek you out because of me” The both of you stayed in studied silence for a moment, just observing one another and the energy shift between you both.

“My court will protect me” a low sound growled from Eris's throat in response to you.

“You mean my brother will protect you? The others care not for anyone but those in their precious inner sanctum”

“That’s not true, I’m their friend!” You snapped back, your voice rising above a crackled whisper in anger. The words pinged an idea directly into Eris’s head, his way to push you away. “You’re their employee! They take you for granted! You can’t honestly say they treat you well can you? Do you think they’d keep you around if you lost your use to them? Their loyalty is conditional, they can’t be relied on!” A truth you frequently ignored washed over you, too much to take.

“You’ve been away from the table too long General, I must return to work” You offered the almost forgotten book in your hands back to him, his eyes only moving from the binding to your eyes. You scoffed again before moving as quickly as he had brought you to this secluded closet, rushing your away from the heat you wanted to be swaddled in forever. You tucked the tiny book into your sock beneath your dress, perhaps that was his goodbye gift to you you thought. Your path was then interrupted around the corner of the secret haven by the feeling of your body crashing into the solid pushback of metal, your hips meeting the plush carpet.

“What do we have here?” You looked up through your eyelashes at the striking male, his broad shoulders shrouded in thick copper metal, the Autumn court of arms across his breast.

You pushed up off the ground, doing your best to ignore your bruised tailbone. The broad, older male scanned you, his eyes snagging on your Court’s emblem stitched into your sleeve.

“And tell me, what would a member of the Night Court be doing out of the designated area?”

“I-I was looking for-for the bathroom” He towered over you, the smell of soot and tinder filling your airways, thick enough to choke on. He stretched out a gloved hand, lights flickering in his eyes like a sparking fire. Before you could take his hand, they curled around your wrist, hauling you forward.

“And yet, I don't believe you” razor words said with a razor grin nicked at your nerves beneath your uniform.

“Would-would I lie to you sir?” You sank into the lowest curtsey you could manage while still tethered to the burly male. You could feel your fingertips turn blue as the gloved hand took a tighter hold, your voice fighting not to croak as you spoke again.

“I-I must return to my High Lord”

“I don’t think so, this little exploration of yours must be reported” Alec snarled down at you, flicking his wrist sending yours back in a conflicting direction, a small yelp leaving your throat. “YN?” The two of you looked to find Lucien, stunned expression turning steely as he looked towards the hold a member of his former Court held on your wrist. He made short work of the distance between you, his warmed hand taking your opposite wrist.

“Unhand this Lady!” He barked.

“Lady? She is staff, staff that was where she shouldn’t have been!” Your head dipped at the ever-present reminder of your differences. Lucien scanned you briefly, a subtly deep intake of air had the scent of Autumn wind and campfire flooding his senses, his brother's scent on you.

“I perhaps agree with you for once-” Lucien whispered down to you, words tainted with disappointment “-but regardless, she will come with me and her High Lord will take care of matters” Alec's grip only tightened further as Lucien attempted to pull you to his side, another wince decorating your face.

“Not before my High Lord has a chance to examine what she may have learned”

“What was I going to learn in the bathroom, his Lordship's haircare routine?” Your words surprised you as much as anyone but not as much as the feeling of cracked leather meeting the side of your face, knocking you down to the plush carpet, out of Luciens hold. The side of your cheek felt as though it instantly began to swell, it matched your eyes as tears threatened to fall over the rim. You didn’t stay down for long, Alec hauling you back to your feet by your cracking wrist joint. You could feel the blood run from your lips, your skin fighting to stitch together and failing. Black blotted your vision competing for the greatest pain with your wrist.

“This female is to be brought before the Lord of Autumn. You have no authority here, run along to your master, she comes with me” That’s all you could hear before the black blots overtook the beautiful brass and copper of the Court of Autumn, no longer able to support your own weight.

—-----------

The low crackle of a cruel flame filled your ears as an unnatural chill stretched from the icy flame. Your eyes flickered like the fire across from your cell, doing your best to come around from the sadistic male’s brutality. The cracking of brickwork met your back as you leaned into it, uncurling your legs from the ball of protection you had attempted to make. The depth of Forest House, far far away from the kind forest spirit voices that beckoned you to play, now replaced with the pained groans of other enemies to Autumn.

“Wakey wakey” You rolled your head along the stone, supporting its weight as you looked to see the ever-feared Lord of Autumn standing on the other side of the brass caging. The metal shuddered as the guards opened them for their master. You lowered your head slightly, trying to win any favour with Beron, his low laugh your reward.

“Anything to say for yourself?” You looked back up, fear stealing your voice as he stepped in closer, your bones rattling lowly off the stone beneath you.

“No? Funny, you seem to have plenty of thoughts to write about” “Ex-excuse me, Lord?” You said quietly, your eyes then landing on the pocket-sized notebook in his cruel hands. You looked between it and its new holder, evident panic on your face, quickly exchanged for pure pain as the Lord of Autumn suddenly shot forward, pressing your body into the cold stone, his grip clutching your throat.

“Beautiful sonnets and poems and prose, all with the very strong theme of escaping my beautiful court, destroying my beautiful legacy, running off with a beautiful forbidden creature, an accomplice of yours?” His even tone of pure ice contradicted the flaming heat beating through his hands to your throat. He’d kill his heir for his words, destroy him, torture him, make him beg, the idea of any of those outcomes unthinkable to you.

“Do not, DO NOT try to deny it” He tried again, crushing some air from your windpipe free.

“Father!” Eris bellowed suddenly from behind, a small ease in pressure on your skin.

“Make yourself scarce Eris, I’m busy” His blackened eyes didn’t leave your bloodshot ones.

“What are her charges?” Eris tried his best to keep the desperate tone at bay, Beron only held out the tiny notebook to his side, his other hand still gripping you. You watched as Eris turned practically to match the colour of your own oxygen-starved skin.

“And she-she has admitted to that being hers?” “She was about to before your interruption!” He barked back at his eldest son, before allowing enough air into your lungs so you may speak. You looked over his shoulder to the Heir of Autumn, his eyes sunken in from worry or lack of sleep or both, you weren’t sure. You weren’t even sure how long you had been down there, how long before your Court would come for you if they even would come. These questions plagued you endlessly and now you were finally about to meet your end, your answer of who would come if you really needed help answered right in front of you in the russet eyes of a male you took stolen moments with. The male who believed himself not worthy of anything other than pain. You would not die with him believing this.

“It’s min-” Your rasped lie cut off a flush of heat pulsating around the entire cell, Beron’s gaze snapping back to his son, a full release of pressure met your throat, your body sank to the ground, muscles screaming out for the rush of returning oxygen. You propped yourself up on your well-worn hands, fighting away blurry vision. Eris stood, shoulders settled back, flames like globes in his hands.

“Alec, that’s Alec’s, there's more in his quarters. Go search them and you’ll see, no need to declare war with Night Court by slaughtering one of their courtiers” Pure confidence beamed from Eris, a grin then decorating his face as his father tilted his head in thought.

“Think about it Father, it has to be someone with more access than a dressmaker? Someone with the intelligence to weave plots into poems, do you really think that a female would be capable of such?” Your heavy breath remained down towards the brick floor you looked down to, its small stones breaking away and burying into your palms and knees. You knew he saw you as more than that, and you trusted that he saw you as more than your court saw you as. You trusted him you realised. You heard Beron hum in quiet contemplation before looking back towards you, your hair matted in knots, uniform in tatters, the perfect image of weakness he believed all females had. Beron gestured quickly with his chin, his armed guards launching into action to search the quarters, no doubt going to find carefully planted prose and poems, damming in their divinity.

“A dressmaker?” Beron questioned you once again, his head tilting as you nodded gently towards the stone, unable to lift your dizzying head.

“Useless skill” He spat down before sinking a heavy, steel-soled boot flush with your right hand. Blood rushed to your ears as the little oxygen in your lungs escaped as a deafening roar, drowning out the sound of your breaking bones. The ring of bruises gifted to you by Alec on your other wrist clutched your shattered hand into your chest.

“You may finish her off Eris, your reward for your observant nature, I must see to the search” He smirked at his son who fought to keep his mouth from hanging open and flame from fleeing his fists. Beron sank into the fire, leaving his heir and his prisoner. Eris crashed to your side, his warm hands supporting your shoulders as you cried out.

“I’m sorry YN, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry” He whispered into your hair, your sobs drowning in his chest. A swirl of comforting flame swaddled you both as Eris pulled you both through the heat to the outskirts of the wood surrounding Forest House.

The Forest air was as refreshing as any of the elements as you landed gently in the clearing, Eris’s arms supporting your weight as he clung you into him.

“They’ll be here soon my love” He gave a small saddened smile into the crown of your hair, causing you to pull back to look up at him.

“What?” You managed, the movement of even speaking amplifying the pain in your digits. Another whoosh of air filled the clearing, Lucien quick to your side accompanied by Azriel, colour draining from the Shadowsinger’s face at the overly familiar sight of your hands.

“Go with them YN, they’ll protect you” Eris attempted another smile as you looked from him to his brother, who tried and failed to hide his worry.

“I want- I want to stay with you Eris” “Look at what happens when you stay with me YN, nothing good ever comes from this place” “But you came from this place” You cried out, your legs trembling again, Eris’s arm slipped around your waist again, Lucien unfamiliar with this side of his brother.

“I told you I’m only going to bring you pain” “And I-I told you green wasn’t one of your colours, we can both be wrong sometimes” You laughed lightly through your tears, fighting your instincts to look down at your hands. Eris brushed a thumb over your cheek, keeping a stray tear from falling before pressing his lips to your forehead.

“I have to leave you YN, I have to make sure Alec learns his lesson, the same one I will teach my father one day and anyone who dares to harm you” He searched through your eyes before stepping back, allowing Lucien to wrap his arm around you to support your body, Azriel placing a small cloth over your hand to shield you from the full extent of the damage. Eris traced the rings of bruising on your uncovered wrist, further cementing his decision. Azriel’s eyes scanned, watching for signs you had all been discovered and finding the distant sounds of guards beginning to storm towards them.

“We have to go” Azriel ordered, Eris and Lucien both nodding.

“Eris, please, please come with us” You begged through sobs.

“One day YN, one day I’ll show you this Court when it’s something I’m proud of, I’ll show you all of who I am, when it’s something I’m proud of” He brought the back of your hand to his lips, only to have you suddenly pull it back before launching forward towards him. His lips on yours felt like a warm hearth, like home, his soothing heat warming the world you always thought was meant to be cold.

“I was jealous” He admitted with his signature smirk as he parted from you, his hand running down your tangled hair receiving a light laugh from you as Lucien reluctantly pulled you back.

“We have to go, they’re close” Azriel took your weight, hesitantly taking you some distance away from Eris, leaving Lucien and Eris with some space between them.

“I will look after your mate brother” Eris only nodded in return before stealing another glance at you and sinking into flame.

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

Whatcha think? Hehehehe

496 notes · View notes

thewulf · 4 months ago

Text

Soothing Shadows || Azriel

Summary: Request - Can I request some fluffy angst with Azriel? She’s usually soft, sweet and shy but she’s suddenly moody and snapping trying to seem tough from a REALLY bad period?

A/N: Well I got way too carried away on the intro but I love it. Love this one. ACOTAR is just so much fun to write. the characters are just... perfect. I hope you all enjoy :)

Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (Day Court Reader)

Word Count: 6.7k +

TW: Yelling, frustration, crying

The Meeting

In the golden light of the Day Court's grand hall the sunlight danced playfully across the marble floors. It was an atmosphere thick with the potential of new alliances that buzzed through the air. Azriel was enveloped in his characteristic shadows despite the overwhelming brightness. He entered the hall alongside Rhysand and Cassian looking rather unimpressed. Day Court was never his favorite. Their steps were confident yet cautious, reflective of the gravity of their mission.

The room was populated with dignitaries and advisors. It seemed to pause momentarily as their attention was drawn to the Night Court's formidable high fae. But for Azriel it wasn’t the opulent surroundings nor the stares of the courtiers that unsettled him—it was you.

Standing among the Day Court's delegation, you were pointing to a map seemingly unfazed by their arrival. Your aura shone more brilliantly than anything else he’d ever seen. You were a strategist he concluded as you kept pointing and offering up solutions. Your attire was remarkably vibrant and expressive even for a Day Court fae. It contrasted starkly with his dark, subdued tones. Yet the garments mirrored the radiant environment of your home or what he assumed was your home. It wasn’t until Rhysand cleared is through that your eyes, keen and perceptive, swept over the newcomers. They paused just a touch longer on him than on the others. And he’d be lying if he didn’t say that your piercing eyes didn’t unsettle him a touch further.

Azriel’s heart was usually so stead but that looked you gave him made it skip unevenly beneath his armor. He meant to greet you with his customary reserve, but his voice caught still in his throat. Instead, the words stumbled over themselves like his shadows at noon. Cassian’s barely concealed smirk did little to soothe his discomfort. Rhysand’s knowing glance only deepened the flush that dared to climb Azriel’s neck.

You cocked an eyebrow in surprise at the new comers. The High Lord of the Night Court and his Inner Circle. You were expecting Night Court emissaries not the High Lord himself. And certainly not flanked by the Shadowsinger and General you’d heard so much about. The war was brutal, but they seemingly made themselves known through their selfless actions. "Welcome to the Day Court High Lord," you said with a hit of a smile on your lips. Your voice was clear and melodious, and it sliced through his momentary lapse with ease. He noticed how you bowed reverently to Rhysand and nobody else. "We hope our discussions today will strengthen the ties between our courts during these challenging times. High Lord Helion will be joining us shortly. He ran into a minor hiccup with High Lord Kallias.” You smirked looking directly at Rhysand after your gaze had settled on Azriel for a beat too long. “You know how those seasonal courts are, fickle is as fickle does.”

Your smile was warm and inviting as it clashed with the cool, calculated persona he had anticipated. As you extended your hand in greeting to the three of them Azriel’s shadows flickered uncertainly around him. Taking a deep breath, he managed to gather his composure, his hand meeting yours first. The contact sent a jolt of unexpected warmth coursing up his arm and settling deep within his chest. Rhysand’s low chuckle was barely audible and hinted that he found the situation amusing. He was already piecing together the reason behind Azriel’s sudden awkwardness

The High Lord’s response was a measured one. His expression unfaltering as he took in your words and the underlying tone. The faintest smile touched his lips, a gleam of amusement—or perhaps appreciation—flickering in the depths of his blue violet eyes. He was no stranger to the complexities and occasional theatrics of court relations and your comment about the seasonal courts didn't go unnoticed. "Thank you for your kind welcome," Rhysand replied. His voice was smooth and commanding yet carrying an undercurrent of warmth that he reserved for those he deemed worth his genuine attention. "It is always enlightening to visit the Day Court. The light here is quite invigorating," he continued, his gaze briefly sweeping the sunlit hall before settling back on you and giving your own hand a shake after Azriel.

He stepped forward slightly, around you, closing some of the formal distance that the court protocol initially demanded. "Indeed though, the fickleness of the seasonal courts can often be... challenging. But it’s the steadfast nature of courts like yours and mine that often brings balance," he added. The slight emphasis on 'steadfast' subtly acknowledged both the compliment and the jest you had woven into your very own greeting.

Rhysand's demeanor remained composed but there was a keen sharpness to his observation. It was indicative of his role not just as a leader but as a tactician. He was always reading between the lines, always ready to engage on more than just the surface level. "We look forward to discussing ways our courts might work together more closely," he concluded. His tone implying that your directness and evident acumen had not only been noted but were also appreciated. His response set the stage for a dialogue that promised to be as engaging and sharp as the participants involved.

You smile brightly at his calculated response. You’d heard many stories of Rhysand and his cleverness. "Then by all means, please have a seat and we will get started once High Lord Helion arrives shortly." You motion to the golden table behind you.

Rhysand nodded at your invitation with the hint of a strategic mind playing behind his affable smile. He gestured gracefully to his companions indicating they should take their seats in preparation for the meeting. As Cassian moved to take a spot near the end of the table, Rhysand placed a hand on Azriel's shoulder, his voice just loud enough for those nearby to catch, "Azriel, why don’t you take the seat next to our esteemed strategist from the Day Court? It might be beneficial for our discussions."

Azriel cast a brief, slightly questioning glance at Rhysand but there was an unspoken understanding in the exchange. With a barely perceptible nod Azriel complied moving smoothly to the indicated chair beside you. His presence was quiet and unobtrusive, yet you couldn’t help but feel the weight of his gaze as he settled next to you. The Shadowsinger’s famed subtlety making him a curious, albeit intriguing, neighbor.

As he took his seat next to you his voice was a low murmur just for you, "I hope my presence here serves to facilitate a fruitful dialogue between our courts," Azriel said. His tone earnest yet carrying an edge of his characteristic reserve.

Rhysand watched this arrangement unfold, a barely there smile playing on his lips, clearly pleased with his own maneuvering. His eyes met yours for a moment and the look was both a challenge and a promise—the proceedings today would be anything but mundane.

With Azriel now seated beside you, his presence both imposing and intriguing, you turned to him with a playful glint in your eye. "I'm sure your presence will not only facilitate but enhance our discussions," you replied. Your voice tinged with a hint of flirtation. "After all, it's not every day we get graced by the infamous Shadowsinger." Your words hung lightly between you as an invitation to a more relaxed interaction despite the formal setting. Azriel's expression which was usually so guarded softened slightly at your approach. A faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he acknowledged the compliment mixed with your light jest.

"Infamous, is it?" Azriel responded. The undertone of his voice suggesting he was both amused and intrigued by your characterization. "I suppose there are worse reputations to have." The subtle exchange, though brief, set a tone of ease and mild flirtation, hinting at the potential for not only diplomatic success but personal connection as well.

Just as you were about to deliver a witty retort to Azriel's comment the grand doors to the meeting hall swung open. Your High Lord strode in with his characteristic regal poise but an apologetic smile. As Helion settled into his chair with his characteristic regal ease he apologized for his tardiness. His eyes twinkling slightly with humor. "My apologies for the delay," Helion announced. The resonant timbre of his voice filling the room. "It seems that even the best of us are not immune to the whims of weather and politics. Kallias can be rather persuasive in his timing."

Before you could respond though Rhysand chimed in. A slight smirk playing on his lips as he glanced at you. "No worries, Helion. Your strategist here has been more than welcoming," he said while nodding towards you with a hint of playfulness in his tone. "It seems the Day Court excels not only in strategy but also in hospitality."

You smiled, catching Rhysand's eye with a look that matched his own amusement. "We do our best to keep our guests comfortable, High Lord Rhysand. It helps to ensure a more productive discussion," you replied smoothly. Your words subtly acknowledging his compliment while keeping the tone light and engaging.

Helion chuckled at the exchange, clearly pleased with the rapport between his strategist and the Night Court's leader. The room relaxed into a more congenial atmosphere setting a positive tone for the serious diplomatic discussions that were about to unfold.

As the meeting unfolded Azriel found himself repeatedly glancing at you. You were unfailingly professional. Your insights sharp and your arguments compelling. Yet, there was an undercurrent of gentleness in your approach. A lightness that seemed to permeate the very air around you. It was in stark contrast to the shadows that clung to him. A poignant irony not lost on him. The shadowsinger drawn inexplicably towards a child of daylight. Despite the limited words exchanged between you two each interaction left Azriel more intrigued. He was increasingly ensnared by the bright strategist whose presence seemed to challenge the depths of his shadows.

The Panic

Back in the Night Court within the familiar shadows of their favored lounge, Azriel faced the relentless teasing of his closest friends. Cassian was lounging on an oversized chair with that irrepressible grin. He watched Azriel with an amused twinkle in his eye. "You know, I've seen you calm in the face of Hybern's armies yet a few sweet words from a lady of the Day Court and you're more tangled than your shadows in sunlight." He snickered knowing it was getting under his brothers skin.

Rhysand was always one for teasing and couldn't resist joining in. His voice laced with laughter. "Truly, it's a sight. Our master of stealth and subtlety was undone by a pretty smile and a strategic mind. Tell us, Az, what exactly did she say to fluster the great Shadowsinger?"

Azriel, whose usual composure was as solid as the mountains surrounding Velaris, felt an unusual heat creeping up his neck for the second time that day. Each jab from his friends pricked at him. It was stirring a whirlpool of thoughts and emotions he was usually so adept at managing. "It’s not just her words," he began. His voice defensive, but as their teasing continued his defenses began to thin.

"Come on, spill it then, Az. Did she outmaneuver you with her wit or was it the sunlight in her hair?" Cassian quipped not missing the slight shift in Azriel’s stance.

The shadows around Azriel deepened, reacting to his rising frustration and embarrassment. Unable to hold back the truth from his brothers relentless teasing he blurted out, "She's my mate, alright? The shadows... they whispered it to me as soon as I saw her standing there." Cassian’s laughter halted abruptly. His expression shifting to shock while Rhysand paused. His own smirk fading into a more thoughtful gaze.

Azriel's admission hung heavily in the air. His heart pounding as he faced the reality he had only dared to acknowledge in the darkest corners of his mind. She’s my mate. How? Why her? Why now? His thoughts raced, chaotic and overwhelming. The concept of having a mate had always been distant, abstract. It was something meant for others. Not for him, cloaked as he was in secrecy and shadows. He didn’t even think Shadowsinger’s could have mates until his shadows confirmed it.

As the initial shock of his declaration settled Rhysand’s features softened. "Az, this... this is significant. But think about it. The Cauldron knows what it’s doing. She brings light where you bring shadow. Balance, in its purest form."

As the shadows around Azriel grew more restless so did his thoughts. His words spilled out in an uncharacteristic torrent. "It doesn't make sense," he started. His words rushing out as if he was trying to keep pace with the whirlwind inside him. "Why her? Why now? She's light and life, and I'm... I'm the opposite. I live in the shadows, in the secrets and silence. How can I bring someone like her into that world? It's not just about balance or opposites attracting. It's about her world and mine, and they just don't... they don't align."

He paused only to draw a shallow breath, hardly noticing Cassian and Rhysand exchanging worried glances. "And what about what she needs? She thrives in the sun, in the warmth. I can offer her none of that. My world is night and cold and hidden things. What if I'm not what she needs? What if I'm just... just another shadow in her bright world?"

Rhysand tried to interject, "Az..."

But Azriel pressed on, relentless. "And the Cauldron, why would it choose this? Why would it choose now to tell me she's my mate? I’ve managed this long on my own, kept to myself. Why throw this... this chaos into my life? It’s like it’s testing me, pushing me to my limits. She deserves someone who can walk in the light with her. Someone who doesn't hide from the world."

His voice was a mix of disbelief and desperation. His words tumbling faster as his anxiety peaked. "And what am I supposed to do? Just walk up to her and say, 'Here I am, your mate, doomed to live in the dark'? How is that fair to her? She has her life, her court. I can’t ask her to leave that behind. I can’t ask her to adjust to the night. It’s not fair. It’s just not fair to her."

Cassian finally stood, grasping Azriel's shoulders to stop his pacing, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Azriel, breathe, brother. You’re spiraling. You’re thinking about all the ways it can go wrong instead of how it could go right. You’re not considering that maybe she’s been waiting for someone who can appreciate her brightness because he understands the dark."

Rhysand nodded, his voice calm and steady. "Cassian’s right. And remember, the Cauldron doesn’t make these decisions lightly. There’s a reason you’re drawn to each other, a reason beyond what we can see. Maybe it’s not about what you think you can or can’t give her. Maybe it’s about what you can create together." The room fell silent as Azriel's breaths slowly evened out. The words of his brothers began to sink in as he processed what they said. The shadows around him calmed, settling as he considered their words. The frenzy of his thoughts gradually giving way to a cautious hope.

Azriel stood there with the weight of his friends’ hands on his shoulders grounding him. Slowly, their words began to penetrate the chaos in his mind, like light piercing through the shadows. Rhysand’s calm assurance and Cassian’s steadfast support made him realize something important: he wasn’t alone in this. He had his brothers. And maybe, just maybe, he could have you too.

He took a deep breath after finally stilling his frantic thoughts. "Maybe you’re right," he said quietly. The tension in his voice easing. "Maybe... maybe there’s a reason for this. I just have to find it."

With his brothers’ encouragement and their unwavering belief in the bond the Cauldron had forged, Azriel decided to give it a chance. He started visiting the Day Court more frequently. He found reasons to see you and to learn more about you. Each visit was a step closer. Each conversation a bridge over the chasm of his doubts.

At first the visits were all business—discussing strategies, alliances, the future of their courts. But quickly thereafter the conversations turned more personal. You talked about your dreams, your fears, and the way the sun felt on your skin. He shared pieces of himself he had kept hidden for so long. He talked of the shadows that lingered in his past, the secrets he carried. He was encouraged when you didn’t recoil away from the conversation but asked more. Wanted to see more.

You began to spend time in Velaris as well. You were invited by Azriel to see the beauty of his world. You wandered the streets together. Explored the hidden corners of the city and discovered the charm of the Night Court. The contrast between the bright, open spaces of the Day Court and the intimate, star-lit beauty of Velaris fascinated you. You found yourself growing to love Velaris as much as he did.

Months passed and the bond between you deepened. Azriel’s initial fears slowly melted away as he realized that the light and shadow within your relationship didn’t clash. Instead, they complemented each other just as Rhysand suggested. You brought warmth to his life, and he brought a depth of understanding to yours. It wasn’t about changing each other but about creating something new together.

Finally, after months of Azriel seeming to court you he told you of what he’d known for a long while now. It was a sunny afternoon in the Day Court as you both stood in the garden where you had first met. He wasn’t planning on telling you that day but the way the sun cast delicate shadows over your frame he knew it was time. The flowers bloomed brightly around you making you as ethereal as ever. He took your hands in his, the shadows curling gently around your fingers.

His heart was steady as he looked into your eyes, filled with the certainty that had eluded him for so long. He told you everything—the whispers of his shadows, the bond he had felt from the start, and the journey he had taken to accept it. And when he finally said it out loud, that you were his mate, the joy that spread across your face was more beautiful than any sunlight or shadow he had known.

You had suspected, had even felt the bond too, but had waited for him to come to you in his own time. And now that he had the happiness between you was undeniable. Together you would embrace the future. You knew you would find the perfect balance of light and shadow. You were more than ready to face whatever came next.

The Decision

A few more days had passed and the question of where the two of you would live rang heavily in his head. He didn’t want to bombard you, but he couldn’t let his mind rest until he knew what was going to happen. You’d told him you would move to Velaris to be with him, but the conversation seemed so long ago now. Like maybe he was dreaming it himself.

In a quiet corner of the Day Court gardens you and Azriel sat on a bench beneath a canopy of blooming flowers. The gentle hum of life around you contrasted with the serious conversation at hand. Azriel’s eyes that were normally so composed were filled with a mix of concern and determination.

"I need to ask you something," he began. His voice steady but his hands fidgeting slightly. "Are you truly ready to leave the Day Court and move to Velaris? To take on a new role and a new life there? I don’t want you to feel like you have to sacrifice everything for me." He admitted in earnest.

You reached out taking his hands in yours, feeling the comforting weight of his touch. "Yes. Azriel, this feels right. I’ve come to love Velaris, its people, and its beauty. Being with you has shown me a world I never knew I could belong to. It’s not a sacrifice. It’s a new beginning." Your smile was genuine, but he felt uneasy. He didn’t want you to resent him for your leaving of your home court. The only court you’d ever known.

Azriel’s brow furrowed slightly, the shadows around him flickering with his unease. "But what about your responsibilities here? Your role in the Day Court? Your family? I don’t want you to feel like you’re abandoning your life for me."

You smiled with your heart swelling with affection for this man who cared so deeply for your well-being. "I’m not abandoning anything. We can find a way to maintain my connection to the Day Court. Rhysand and Helion can work out an arrangement where I can serve both courts, acting as a bridge between them. It’s a role I believe I’m meant to play. My family will understand. They just want me to be happy. And you make me happy. Velaris will make me happy." You gave his hands a squeeze in yours

He sighed. His shoulders relaxing slightly as he absorbed your words. "And you’re sure? You’re truly sure this is what you want?"

You leaned in closer. Your voice filled with conviction. "I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Being with you, in Velaris, feels like coming home. It’s where I want to be, with you. We can make this work together."

Azriel nodded. A smile slowly spreading across his face. "Then let’s do it. We’ll talk to Rhysand and Helion and make this official. We’ll find a way for you to fulfill your duties to both courts while being together."

The conversation with Rhysand and Helion was productive and filled with mutual respect. Rhysand’s approval and Helion’s support solidified the plan for you to become an ambassador between the Day and Night Courts. This arrangement ensured that you could maintain your influence in the Day Court while building a new life in Velaris with your mate. For even High Lord’s would never come between a fae and their mate.

The Cycle

The streets of Velaris hummed with the gentle bustle of evening activity as the city welcomed Azriel back into its embrace. His shadowed silhouette moved effortlessly through the crowd, a figure of quiet strength returning from a covert mission. By his side, you walked with a smile, your presence a bright counter to his darker aura. The bond between you, still fresh and filled with the thrill of discovery, seemed to deepen with every step you took together.

Despite the jovial atmosphere of the city, a ripple of discomfort threaded through you. The onset of your cycle beginning just as Azriel returned. The timing was far from ideal, and you decided to keep the discomfort to yourself. You did not want to cloud his homecoming with the burden of your pain.

"Azriel, it seems Velaris hasn’t slept a wink since you left," you remarked lightly trying to steer clear of your discomfort by engaging him with the vibrancy of the city.

He chuckled a soft, melodious sound that easily blended with the evening air. "Or perhaps it’s just waking up now that I’m back." His eyes that were especially dark and perceptive tonight, flicked to yours with a smile tugging at his lips. Despite the playfulness of his words, his gaze was probing, always searching beneath the surface even if he didn't yet know what he was looking for.

As you approached the quieter lamp-lit streets near your home the pain discreetly intensified. Each step became a little more measured though you masked it well with practiced ease. Azriel was caught up in recounting the details of his mission. He didn’t immediately notice the subtle shifts in your demeanor. The slightly too-long pauses, the faint grimaces quickly smoothed into neutral expressions.

Once home you busied yourself with preparing a late dinner by moving around the kitchen with a grace that belied the growing ache. Azriel was unpacking and settling back into the space. He watched you from the corner of his eye. Something in your movement, perhaps a stiffness you hadn’t possessed before, hinted at an unspoken truth.

Dinner passed with light conversation and shared laughter. You asked about his travels, the people he met, the sights he saw, all while carefully balancing your own discomfort on a tightrope of normalcy. Azriel responded with stories and light-hearted comments, but his observant eyes missed little. He noted each careful movement and each strained smile.

Later though, as you both settled into the quiet comfort of the living room with the flickering candles casting soft shadows across the walls, Azriel’s concern finally found its voice. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything,” he said softly, his voice a gentle nudge in the quiet room. It wasn’t an accusation, nor a confrontation. It was just an offer hanging softly between you.

You met his gaze with a soft smile. His warmth and worry there evident. You hesitated. A part of you, the part woven tightly to him through the bond, yearned to share the burden, to lean on him as you had promised each other. But another part, the part steeled by independence and not wanting to cast a shadow over his return, held back.

“I know,” you replied. Your voice softer than intended, a smile attempting to mask your discomfort. “I’m just glad you’re home, Azriel. Really, I’m fine.”

Azriel nodded, accepting your words for now but not deceived by them. His offer stood. A silent vow reflected in the steadiness of his gaze ready for when you chose to accept it. And as the evening wore on the unspoken understanding deepened. The assurance that when you were ready, he would be there, just as the city’s lights would always return with the stars.

The next morning in Velaris began with the soft glow of the rising sun streaming through the windows, bathing the kitchen in warm light. It was usually a welcome sight, but today, as the rays hit your eyes it sparked an unexpected irritation. You squinted sharply, shielding your face with your hand. "Why is the sun so bright this morning?" you grumbled more to yourself than to Azriel.

Azriel, standing nearby and preparing breakfast, glanced over with a mixture of concern and a slight smile noting the irony of a Day Court Fae being annoyed by the sun. "Would you like me to close the curtains?" he offered, his voice gentle, recognizing your discomfort as more than just a complaint about the light.

"Yes, please," you sighed before rubbing your temples as he moved to adjust the drapes, softening the room's brightness. Your mood felt as fragile as glass, each sensory input amplified.

Throughout the morning these small irritations bubbled up unexpectedly. When the kettle whistled loudly as it reached a boil, you winced. The sound slicing through the quiet like a siren. "Does it always need to be that loud?" you muttered. The frustration edging your words.

Azriel turned off the stove. His movements calm and deliberate, designed not to provoke your sensitivities further. "It's done now," he said soothingly, pouring the hot water into a teapot with practiced care.

As you both sat to eat, the scraping of your chair against the floor made you cringe. You held your head in your hands for a moment, feeling overwhelmed. "Sorry, everything just feels a bit much this morning," you apologized. Your voice muffled by your hands.

Azriel’s response was filled with an empathetic patience. "It’s okay. We all have those days. Is there anything else I can do to make the morning easier for you my love?"

You shook your head instead managing a small smile as you looked up at him. "Just having you here helps."

He returned your smile with a nod. His presence a quiet reassurance. Azriel continued to navigate the morning with a considerate grace by turning down the volume on the music player that usually filled your mornings with lively tunes. He replaced it instead with the soft, soothing sounds of a gentle instrumental.

Later, as you prepared to leave the kitchen, a sharp pain from your cycle struck drawing a hiss of pain from your lips. Azriel was at your side in an instant, his concern deepening. "Is everything alright?" he asked. His voice laced with worry.

You nodded your head not wanting to worry him with the details just yet. "Just a bit of a headache," you lied, not ready to divulge the true cause of your discomfort.

Azriel didn't press further, respecting your space, but his offer was clear. "If you need anything—anything at all, just let me know." His assurance was comforting. He was a steady anchor in the choppy waters of your morning. As you leaned into his support, appreciating the depth of his patience, you realized how much it meant to have someone who could weather your storm without taking it personally. Azriel's understanding allowed you to face the more challenging days with a sense of security knowing that even when you couldn't control the storm within you weren't alone in navigating it.

Later that evening, as the city of Velaris began to quiet down under the night sky, the calm in your shared home was punctuated by the subtle but persistent struggles of your condition. After a day fraught with sensitivity and muted pain you had finally found a moment of respite by drifting into a light sleep.

Azriel, ever so cautious, tried to maintain the tranquility of your environment. However, as he moved around the bedroom preparing for his own rest a book slipped from his grasp. The soft thud it made as it hit the floor seemed deafening in the quiet room. Startled from your shallow slumber you snapped awake with irritation flaring immediately. "Can you just be quiet for once?" you lashed out. Your voice sharp and louder than intended. The darkness of the room seemed to swell with the tension of your words.

Azriel froze, the book forgotten at his feet. He turned towards you. His face a mask of surprise and hurt. The room was thick with your frustration and his growing concern. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the emotion you could hear just under the surface. "I didn’t mean to wake you."

You sighed, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes, frustration at yourself now mingling with the physical pain. "No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I... I just fell asleep, and I’m so tired, Az. I didn’t mean to snap."

There was a moment of silence as Azriel digested your words. The gentle shifting of his stance indicating his internal debate on how to proceed. Finally, he spoke, his words careful but filled with the need to understand. "This isn’t like you love. You’re not just tired. Please, talk to me. What’s really going on?"

The concern in his voice, the genuine worry for your well-being, broke through the last of your defenses. The dam built around your emotions and the pain you had been trying to hide all day finally burst. Tears started to gather in your eyes, blurring your vision as you faced not just the physical pain but also the emotional strain of keeping it hidden. "It’s my cycle, Az. It’s really painful this time and I didn’t want to make a fuss about it, especially today. But I’ve gone and made a fuss about it by being mean to you."

Azriel's reaction was immediate and intense. His eyes widened in alarm. "Your cycle? Is it supposed to hurt this much? Should I call a healer? Maybe there’s something wrong. We should do something. What can I do? Tell me how to help you." His questions tumbled out in a hurried stream; his usual calm demeanor replaced by a flustered, almost panicked response.

You couldn’t help but let out a small giggle despite your discomfort. You were struck by how uncharacteristically panicked he was. The sight of Azriel, always so in control, now scrambling to figure out how to deal with a normal albeit painful part of your life, was oddly endearing. "Really, Az, I don’t need a healer," you reassured him by still chuckling a little. "It’s not unusual, just uncomfortable. Maybe just some warmth and quiet would help."

Seeing you laugh, Azriel took a deep breath, attempting to calm his racing thoughts. "Okay, warmth, I can manage that," he muttered to himself almost as if making a mental checklist. "And quiet. Right. I’ll get you a heating pad and some tea. Does chamomile sound good? I read somewhere once that it’s supposed to be soothing." Watching him take determined strides toward the kitchen you felt a mix of gratitude and amusement. His earnestness and sudden eagerness to do anything to make you feel better warmed your heart and eased some of your discomfort.

Azriel carefully placed the heating pad and tea on the bedside table then hesitantly perched on the very edge of the bed. He maintained a noticeable distance between you. His eyes flickered with concern and an unusual hint of hesitance as he watched you curl up under the blankets, seeking comfort and warmth. Noticing the space he'd kept away from you, you pouted slightly, feeling the chill of his absence more acutely than the air around you. "Why are you all the way over there?" you asked him. Your voice carrying a soft note of longing and a touch of playful reproach.

He looked at you, a wry smile touching his lips. He held up his hands "I’m cold, always cold. My hands are freezing. ," he replied. His voice tinged with a half-hearted jest. "And you need warmth."

You rolled your eyes affectionately before extending your hand towards him. "I don’t care. Come here," you insisted. Your tone gentle yet firm.

Without missing a beat, Azriel moved closer to you. His earlier hesitation vanishing as he lay down next to you. However, ever considerate, he strategically placed a soft blanket between you and him just in case his cooler, shadow-clad nature made you uncomfortable. Then with a tender smile he pulled you into his embrace ensuring that the blanket acted as a warm buffer. Making sure to keep any chill his presence might hold at bay.

Azriel's embrace enveloped you, the blanket between you two a considerate barrier to his naturally cool presence. He held you close, his voice a soft murmur near your ear, "I’m here, no matter what. Always.”

As you nestled against him feeling the warmth of his care seep through the fabric, he chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. "You know," he started, a playful twinkle lighting up his eyes, "I’ve heard that certain... activities can be quite beneficial for soothing cycles. Something about natural pain relief?" His tone was teasing, deliberately light to coax a smile from you.

Azriel's playful suggestion hung in the air, wrapped in the warmth and the soft chuckle that followed. You raised an eyebrow. Your laughter still echoing softly in the room. Leaning in a little closer you matched his mischievous gaze with one of your own. "What certain activities are you alluding to, Azriel?" you teased. Your voice dripping with feigned innocence. "You'll have to be more specific. I'm not sure I follow."

The twinkle in Azriel’s eyes brightened, amused, and slightly challenged by your seemingly innocent response. "Oh, you know," he replied, his voice lowering into a suggestive murmur, "activities that involve being very... close and unclothed. I've heard they can be quite therapeutic."

Your laughter filled the room again, lighter, and more carefree than it had been all day. "Therapeutic, huh? That sounds like a very scientific approach," you quipped back. The banter easing the remnants of your earlier discomfort.

Azriel nodded solemnly but his eyes betrayed his mirth. "Absolutely. It’s all in the name of health," he assured you, drawing you even closer within the safe harbor of his arms. The proximity was charged with your shared jest. It softened the edges of the day’s pain and discomfort, replacing it with a comforting intimacy.

Wrapped in the warmth of Azriel's embrace you couldn't help but play along with his cheeky suggestion. Your tone light but laced with mock consideration. "Well, if it’s for health reasons," you mused before giving him a playful look, "then I suppose we should probably follow doctor’s orders, shouldn’t we?"

Azriel's smile widened. His eyes alight with amusement and a hint of mischief. "Correct," he replied, his voice low and teasing. "It’s important to take health matters very seriously."

The playful banter and light-hearted mood set a comforting ease between you two and as you both settled in closer the earlier discomforts seemed to melt away. Instead replaced by a shared anticipation and warmth. Your laughter and his soft chuckles filled the room, creating a bubble of joy and closeness that made the rest of the world fade away. You leaned closer to him whispering conspiratorially, "Then let’s not waste any more time on formalities." Azriel's response was a gentle squeeze at your hip before pulling you even closer. As you both prepared to follow through on the playful prescription, keeping the mood light and deeply connected. This tender moment was filled with laughter and soft promises. It was a perfect, shared escape from the day's earlier challenges.

The next morning sunlight streamed softly through the curtains casting a gentle glow across the room where you and Azriel lay tangled in the sheets. The peaceful air was filled with the quiet sounds of Velaris awakening outside. Azriel was already awake and watching the light play across your face. He brushed a loose strand of hair from your eyes.

"Good morning," he murmured, his voice soft with affection. The events of the previous night had not only brought relief but had also woven a deeper layer of intimacy and trust between you.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked with a hint of a cheeky smile playing at the corners of his lips. The playful twinkle in his eyes was unmistakable clearly alluding to the 'therapeutic activities' from the night before. "Did the... treatment help?"

You couldn't help but laugh at his antics. The sound of your laughter was light and clear, a stark contrast to the discomfort of the previous day. "Yes, I believe it did," you replied as you matched his playful tone. "Doctor’s orders might just be the best medicine."

Azriel's laugh joined yours, the sound warm and comforting. As the laughter faded he shifted to a more serious tone, though his eyes still held a gentle warmth. "I mean it, though," he said earnestly. "I’m here for you, whatever you need. If there’s anything else that can help or something different you want to try next time, just tell me."

You reached out, tracing a line along his jaw with your fingers, moved by his sincerity and openness. "Thank you, Az. It means everything to me that you’re here and so willing to help. We'll just keep adjusting and figuring it out. And I promise I won’t be so… bitchy next time."

Azriel nodded with a smirk forming across his face at your words. His hand covering yours. "Absolutely," he agreed. There was a gentle determination in his tone. "Whatever comes, we face it."

The moment was simple yet profound, affirming the depth of your connection. It was these instances—of laughter, shared vulnerability, and light planning for the future—that deepened your bond, making it stronger with each challenge faced and each joy shared. As you both lay there, the morning light seemed to promise new beginnings and the assurance that no matter what challenges awaited you would meet them with love and a bit of humor always at hand.

ACOTAR Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @kenn-spencerswifey @guacam011y @illisea @hiireadstuff @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @lilah-asteria @fandomarchiveilyd @nickishadow139 @ahoeforfandomsblog @hyunjinvoid @greantii

663 notes · View notes