#and then when i get overwhelmed run back to Rhys

[rhysnolastname]

idk how to do an evil play through. like i make all the evil choices no. im already crying i fear

[pellucid-constellations]

Only in Dreams

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: In his dreams, Azriel recounts how he got to his mate.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Some angst, mentions of injuries

a/n: Hi this is my first acotar fic idk what I'm doing. I've been reading them for years so here's a little one for fun <3 I know it's different from my usual but inspiration is a finicky creature :) Also, italics denote flashbacks.

~~

There was very little Azriel wouldn’t do for his mate. 

He had learned that early on. 

In those early days, when the bond had made itself known to only him, there was so much confusion and strife within the shadowsinger. He had known you for decades, admired you from afar, and befriended you under self-made pretenses. You were a light, a healer, too good and sweet to be anything to him other than a friend, a coworker. 

But you were also his mate. 

The air had been knocked from his lungs at the realization. 

“Is everything okay?” you had asked, sweet confusion bunching at your brows. 

And Azriel couldn’t answer, not for several long beats. 

“Az, what’s wrong? You look like Cassian after he took that weird herb Majda wanted me to test.”

Another bout of silence, this time accompanied by soft, warm hands along his cheeks. You leaned in, the sweet scent knocking him out of his stupor. As he jerked back, you only followed, blinking in surprise. 

“Azriel—” 

“I apologize,” he finally—weakly—stammered out. “I was talking with Rhys.” 

“You were talking with Rhys?” 

It hadn’t sounded much like a question, but Azriel nodded anyways, enraptured by you and your closeness. He needed to get away, to leave. You were too close. He was too weak. 

But then you giggled, and the sound was so melodic and saccharine that he found himself breathless again. He could get lost in that sound. If he was being honest with himself, he had gotten lost in that sound plenty of times before. But now… now. Gods, now you were his mate. 

As you laughed some more, teasing retorts echoing in the air, Azriel knew you had no idea. 

And, as Azriel had learned, that was fine. You didn’t need to know. Because he knew, and that was enough. 

Enough for the overwhelming devotion he felt for you to finally have substance. To finally be validated. 

You were his—everything sweet and good was his to protect. And, gods, did he want to protect you. 

You made that very difficult in the weeks after the bond had snapped for him. His instincts were in overdrive, taking note of your every move and praying to the cauldron that you were careful when he was sent on missions and you stayed back in Velaris. He had nothing to worry about when that was the case. The inner circle loved you almost as much as he did. 

But then Rhys decided you were needed. 

With an unreciprocated mating bond and a mate that cared so little for her own self-preservation, that had been Azriel’s worst nightmare. 

“Reconsider.” 

“There is nothing to reconsider, Azriel. We need a healer in Windhaven to show them that the clipping won’t be seen to fruition. And y/n just so happens to be our court healer,” Rhys carefully explained for the third time. 

“Send Majda.” 

Rhys held the bridge of his nose. “There is a reason y/n took over her post. Madja is far too old to be making those kinds of trips.” 

“Send anyone else,” Azriel rasped, a tightness to his words. 

“No. She is the best. It will only be for a few weeks and Cassian—” 

“Rhysand.” 

Rhys paused at the desperation laced within his brother’s tone. He removed the fingers attempting to abate the ache along his temple and observed Azriel’s clenched fists and restless shadows. Rhys’s lips parted in shock, his eyes blinking in quick succession. Something clicked within his gaze.

“Is she…” 

The muscle in Azriel’s jaw quivered. “Just don’t send her there. Please.” 

Rhys raised a hand to run down his jaw. “My gods, Azriel. This is…this is—does she know?” 

“No,” he replied, quick and low. 

“I understand what you’re feeling, but I can’t stop her. You know that, brother.” 

And, unfortunately, Azriel knew that. 

When you set your mind to something—when you knew you were going to help people—that was it. There would be nothing keeping you from helping those in need. Especially the Illyrian women. Azriel was pretty sure you kept a dartboard somewhere in the house with Lord Devlon’s face on it. 

He loved that about you, truly he did. But it also made you reckless.

There were plenty of instances where you burned yourself out from healing. You would come home swaying on your feet or be so depleted you couldn’t even winnow correctly. He could count on two hands the amount of times you passed out at the dinner table after work. When he thought about you doing that in Windhaven… Azriel couldn’t even stomach the thought. 

“Then order her,” Azriel gritted out. He could hear you coming. You and Cassian, bags packed, chatting down the hall about something insignificant. 

Why couldn’t he come, again? 

Right, because he would “stir up the camp” or whatever obtuse reason Rhys had given him. 

“You know that won’t go over well,” Rhys countered. 

“Neither will the entirety of Windhaven if she gets hurt.” 

Azriel’s threat fell on deaf ears as you came bounding into the room, bright and determined and smiling at him as if you weren’t leaving. 

“Here to see us off, Az?” 

That trip to Windhaven had been awful—for Azriel and for you. Rhys’s “ordering” hadn’t been effective, and neither had Cassian’s ability to pick up on context clues. As you stood, baffled at Rhys’s sudden change in plans, Cassian didn’t so much as look at Azriel’s subtle vies for assistance. Because Cassian had been just as baffled as you were. 

So, you went to Windhaven. 

And then you came home hurt. 

Not terribly, just a few cuts and a black eye that rivaled his own from the last time he trained with the Valkyries. 

Cassian explained that there had been a fight unrelated to you, but you had gotten caught up in it. He suspected it was a ploy to get hands on you, but Azriel had stopped listening to him the second you landed on the balcony with stitches on your forehead. The moment he saw your hands bandaged and your eye purple and blue. 

You had laughed about your inability to fight, knocking an injured hand into Cassian’s side as he jested that it was time for you to get into the training ring with him. Later, Azriel would agree with that sentiment. In that moment, however, unparalleled fear had coursed through his veins. Rhys was the only one ready for it. 

Cassian’s back slammed into the far wall of the house, wings splaying out against stone. Azriel’s shadows were gone as he held his brother against the wall, abandoning him in favor of wrapping around your wounds. 

Azriel thought he heard you scream. 

“You said you would protect her!” he seethed, pushing his forearm against Cassian’s throat, blue siphon blazing atop his hand.

“Azriel, stop!” Your call went unheard. Rhys stood ground in front of you, arm jutting out when you tried to get around him. 

Cassian pushed back against him, face twisted in confusion. “I did. I pulled her from that fight as soon as I could, Az. You think—” his words cut off with another shove from his brother “—you think I would have let anything happen to her on purpose?” 

Azriel growled, low and dangerous. “All I think is that my mate came back looking like that when you swore to take care of her. You swore.” 

The room went silent, stagnant. Even the shadows halted their appraisal of you as you held onto Rhys’s arm. Cassian stopped fighting. Somewhere down the hall, the rushed footsteps of some other member of the family abruptly stopped. 

“She’s your mate?” 

“Azriel—” Your whisper was lost in the lingering chaos of the room. 

The time after was a blur for Azriel. He knew he left the balcony, retreating to his room hastily after sending you a longing, apologetic glance. He knew you called after him, that you were breathless and shaking and Rhys kept holding you back… telling you to give him some time to cool off. 

He didn’t need time. He needed you, and Azriel had been positive that would never happen now. 

Half of his shadows joined him in his room, engulfing him as he sat on his bed with his head in his hands. The other half stayed with you, still worried about the pain that you had endured. It was a miracle you hadn’t sent them away. They would have listened to you if you had. They would always listen to you. 

When the door creaked, his shadows covered him even more, encasing his fear and worry and embarrassment into a shell that kept him safe. 

He was a fool. 

“Azriel?” 

He had to be imagining the sweet trill of your voice. There was no way you had come for him, not after all of that. But soon, your shoes slinked into the mess of shadows between his legs, and a bandaged hand gently guided his chin up. 

When he met your eyes, his shadows circled faster. His wings fell lower and lower against the bed, giving himself up to your gaze. 

“Azriel,” you repeated, music within the swish of dark air. “Care to explain, shadowsinger?”

The bruises on your face made his stomach turn. He went to look away, to escape this physical and mental turmoil, but you only locked your wrists and kept him there. 

It took him a moment, but he finally relented. 

“You are my mate,” he spoke, gravely and unsure—even though that was the one thing Azriel was sure of above all else. “You are my mate and you are hurt. I am sorry for my actions… if I scared you or—” 

“I wasn’t asking about the display of male violence on the balcony.” Your teasing smile made some of his shadows rest.

It also made hope swell within the deepest parts of Azriel’s wearied chest. 

You didn’t look forlorn at his offhanded declaration, nor did you look repulsed. You just looked like… you. You looked at him as you always had, and maybe that meant something. 

Maybe that was something for Azriel to hold onto. 

“How long have you known?” you asked, when he spent a moment too long admiring the upturn of your mouth. 

Azriel blinked, moving his eyes back to your own. “A while.” 

“And you weren’t going to tell me?” You didn’t sound accusatory, or even angry as he was sure Feyre had all those years ago. You only sounded sad. That made it worse. 

“I wanted to tell you,” Azriel stressed, leaning forward on the bed to capture your legs between his. “I wanted to, I just—y/n, I just…” 

There was no solid explanation. You didn’t rush him as he stumbled over his words—you were patient, as you always were. You were patient and Azriel was a coward.

Determination set a line in his brow. 

“I was a coward,” he affirmed. “I didn’t want to push you away… to make you feel unsure or pressured. You are… you are everything. You have been everything to me for many years now. If I had ruined that—if I had pushed something upon you that you did not want—” 

“Has it occurred to you, Azriel, that I would very much like to be your mate?” 

Azriel paused his spiel, licking his drying lips as he searched your eyes for the lie. 

“Only when I dream.” 

You had kissed him after that, all bruised and scratched and broken, and Azriel found himself dreaming.

As he stared at you across the sitting room, surrounded by your raucous, disruptive family, Azriel dreamed again. The glow of the fire lit up the side of your face as you laughed, sending warmth up the long-accepted mating bond, and he dreamed of you in every iteration of his life. 

And he would do anything to keep that dream alive.

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (11)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: after a lil bit of a break, chem ov has returned! More of the drama, the yearning, and the tension is served here, for your pleasure <3

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Following the reader's unfortunate accident, tensions run high between the two men vying for her heart. The cast get together to celebrate Ewan's birthday, and things go exactly as you would expect. And then some.

Ewan has never been the most active in the cast group chat. It does amuse him some, especially when Tom and Rhys get into those selfie battles of theirs, when all throughout the day, the chat would be flooded with deliberately posed pictures of the two pulling the most ridiculous faces in increasingly absurd locations.

It's a place for playful jabs, catching up, sharing updates. Light banter all around.

Which is why Ewan's heart nearly jumped out of his chest when the latest message came. He had been on location in LA, running through the script for his film when he received the notification. He’d ignored it at first, never one to reply promptly anyway. But a flicker of instinct – or maybe he felt it, felt you – made him check. 

Phia informed the group that you had an accident.

“... and it was during stunt training, but she’s fine and is in the hospital now…”

Everyone was encouraged to visit if they could or send their well wishes. 

Ewan’s mind reeled. Fine? What the hell does that mean? Fine could be a scratch or it could be… Fuck.

He read the message over and over until they blurred together. He knew he was willing the words to change like some idiot. You had to be okay. Nothing bad could happen to you.

Phia had just casually dropped the bombshell. She might as well have said, “Hey, how is everyone, good? Oh, by the way, she almost died but it’s cool.”

Ewan knew none of it was Phia’s fault, but that didn’t stop him from feeling an overwhelming irritation. What did ‘fine’ even mean? If he threw his phone across the room like he wanted, would that be fine?

He felt nauseous with worry as he dialled whoever he could – anyone who might give him more than just that damn word. Time went by torturously slowly, the only thing repeating in his head was the image of you – broken, unconscious, or worse – until Phia finally confirmed that it wasn’t life-threatening. 

He had to calm down, according to her. You are being taken care of, and are set to make a swift recovery.

But even then, it wasn’t enough.

Because it was you.

“Love… you’re awake.”

Sitting beside your hospital bed, Ewan gets a good look at you – finally awake but still too fragile for his liking. He hadn’t slept properly, and he feels like a whole mess. 

You blink slowly, your eyes meeting his. “Ewan?”

He feels like breathing again after being underwater for far too long. He can’t help the awkward smile that tugs at his lips. “Hey, darling. You look like you just fought a dragon.”

You start to laugh, but it quickly turns into a wince, and you relax back into the pillow. “Oh, jeez, don’t make me laugh. My head hurts.”

He quickly reaches for the glass of water on your bedside table and offers it to you. “Sorry, my bad. I’ll be my usual, stoic, boring self then.”

“You’re never boring, Mitchell.” You roll your eyes, before taking a sip.

He can’t help but watch you closely, as if you might vanish if he looks away. “Phia told the whole cast about your accident in the group chat. Did you know that?” he said, trying to keep things light.

“Oh great,” you mumble. “Did Rhys send one of his motivational selfies?”

“Well,” Ewan smiles. “He did. Said something about you ‘getting back in the saddle’ while he posed with a horse. It was inspirational, honestly.”

Ewan hadn’t felt anything when he saw that, consumed with thoughts of you, but now he feels free to let amusement wash over him. Now that he’s with you.

You roll your eyes again, softly smiling. “Of course he did. Well, I appreciate it.”

You are okay, which means Ewan is okay.

He knows just how in love he is with you. Even though you’d broken things off for his sake, even though the boundaries had blurred. Then friends with benefits. No strings. Except those strings had tightened around both of you, slowly suffocating the pretense until it collapsed. And now here you both were – again. With the issue of his PR looming like a goddamn stormcloud, and there is no running from it. 

He clears his throat. “You scared the hell out of me, you know?”

Your expression softens as you look at him. “I’m sorry. But I’m okay, really.”

He sighs, running a hand through his unruly dark blonde hair. “I didn’t know what I’d find when I got here. And Phia, bless her, has a knack for delivering life-altering news like she’s talking about what she had for breakfast.”

“She means well.” You smile, shaking your head.

“Yeah, darling, but next time, let’s just skip the part where you end up in a hospital bed, okay?” He reaches for your hand, his voice wavering slightly. He hates how vulnerable he sounds, but there’s nothing he can do to hide it.

“Deal.” You give his hand a playful shake, but your tone is sincere. 

Ewan glances down, his jaw tightening. He wants to ask if things can finally go back to the way they were – to you being his. He’s already yours anyway. 

But instead, he swallows hard and forces a lighthearted tone. “You know, if I had been there to teach you how to ride the Buck, then this never would have happened.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh really, Mitchell? I’m pretty sure you almost got thrown off once.”

Ewan scoffs, giving you his best offended look. “Almost doesn’t count, darling. I’ve practically mastered it now. I do ride the biggest and fiercest dragon in the realm, remember?”

“I said don’t make me laugh,” you say, giving him a pointed look. 

He leans forward, his smirk widening. “I’m just saying. I could’ve saved you from all the stale hospital food. I mean – ” There’s a familiar flicker in his expression. With his head tilted downward, he looks at you through his eyelashes. “ – I have seen you ride, and you’ve got skill, but you do need my help.”

Your mouth falls open at his audacity. “Mitchell! When have you been this smug?”

“Only you have seen the full range of my talents,” he teased.

“Oh really?” you counter. “I did hit my head, so maybe I forgot all about them.”

“Recover quick, and I can jog your memory.”

He can feel the pull – he’d always felt it – and the familiar ache creeps back into his chest, stronger than ever. He wants to reach for you and close the gap. But instead, he buries it beneath a smirk.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

“Good. I’ll even throw in a few tricks. You know, to keep things interesting.”

“You said it, Mitchell,” you snort softly.

His gaze lingers on you, and the playful banter stalls, replaced by something heavier. And before he can stop himself, he leans close, hovering over you. 

“I’m glad you’re okay, darling,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

You don’t respond, but you don’t need to. The way you look at him, the way your eyes soften, says enough. He hesitates for just a moment, his hand brushing gently against yours before he leans in further.

Gently, he presses his lips to your forehead, the touch light and lingering. When he pulls back, his face is close to yours, his gaze searching as if he is waiting for something. An answer. A sign. Anything to tell him where this was going.

There is something in your expression that seems like the same yearning that he has been unable to fight for so long.

“I’ll be here,” he whispers, the heavy significance of the words settling. “Whenever you need me.”

It’s your third morning at the hospital, when Phia, Liv and Tom burst into your room like a gust of fresh air, their loud voices echoing out in the hall.

Phia’s holding an extravagant bouquet of flowers – so big it practically obscures her face – while Liv balances a tray of coffees, her smile bright and warm. Tom walks in last with a massive balloon arrangement, the centre one reading GET WELL SOON in neon colours. 

“Look who’s alive and kicking!” Tom announces, waving the balloons around. “For a while there, we thought Alyna was going to have to be recast!”

Liv elbows him sharply in the ribs, then sets the coffees down on your bedside. “Tom, honestly.”

You can’t help the grin that creeps onto your face. “Yeah, right. As if there could ever be a better Alyna.”

Ewan sits by your bed, arms crossed, watching the group with quiet amusement. But the second Phia notices him, she arches a brow and points at him with a no-nonsense look. “Mitchell. Go home. Shower. Sleep. You look like death cooked over.”

Ewan’s brow furrows, and he opens his mouth to protest, but Phia cuts him off with a stern glare. “I’m not asking. I’m telling.”

He glances down at you, his expression conflicted, but you give him a small, tired nod. “You probably should. You’ve been here the whole time.”

Ewan hesitates, but then sighs, resigned. “Alright. But I’ll be back soon, darling.”

Phia nods, pleased. “Good. And don’t come back until you’ve slept at least eight hours… darling.”

Ewan shoots her a mock glare, then leans down toward you, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. “See you in a few hours,” he murmurs softly, his voice just for you.

You nod, watching as he leaves the room, your heart sinking just a little. As soon as the door clicks shut behind him, Phia turns to you with a smirk. “He’s so whipped.”

Your cheeks flush instantly. “He’s just… worried.”

“Worried?” Tom scoffs, dropping into a chair beside Phia. “Right. I’m sure that’s all it is.”

“Please,” Liv chimes in, smiling knowingly. “He’s been practically glued to your side since you woke up.”

You shift uncomfortably, trying to deflect. “Yeah, well, after everything, we’re just… friends.”

Phia arches a brow. “Friends? You guys stopped being just friends since the age of the fucking dinosaurs, doll.”

You open your mouth to argue, but Liv interrupts, sliding you a cup of water from the tray. “Alright, we’ll stop harassing you – for now. Let’s talk birthday plans instead.”

At the mention of birthdays, guilt twists in your stomach. Ewan’s birthday had been in March, just a few weeks ago. You had known, but with the mess of the overall situation, it had slipped by.

“I completely forgot his birthday,” you murmur, the guilt weighing heavy. “I should’ve done something.”

Liv squeezes your hand gently. “You’ve had a lot on your plate. I’m sure he understands.”

Tom leans forward with a grin. “That’s why we’ve got a plan to make up for it. Joint birthday bash.”

Phia nods, her eyes twinkling. “For Ewan, Fabien, and Freddie. We’re thinking a trip to Spain, some villa, maybe a pool party, lots of sunshine. It’ll be a proper holiday for everyone.”

“Wait, what?” You blink, surprised by the sudden reveal of such an elaborate plan.

Liv grins. “Yeah. We’ve already started organising it. It’ll be in mid April, just after you’re up and moving again. A real joint celebration for the three of them.”

Tom gestures grandly. “Fabien’s excited. Lord Freddie’s thrilled to be celebrated, you know how he is. Ewan – well, he doesn’t know yet, cause all he thinks about is you.”

The idea sounds incredible – a break in Spain with the cast, a chance to relax and celebrate together. Especially after your on-set slipup. But the more they talk, the more conflicted you feel. Being in the same place with both Ewan and Matty… would be something indeed. 

Ewan is still to be in a carefully curated PR relationship, all for the sake of his movie. You dislike it, though you understand it, that relentless Hollywood game of optics. But the thought of spending time with him at a secluded villa in Spain – away from cameras, prying eyes, and staged appearances – sends your heart racing. You know Ewan. He’d see it as an opportunity. A chance to be close to you, to slip back into old habits, to erase the distance that the PR relationship has forced between you.

There would be no cameras, no script to follow – just the two of you in the same space, and you already know what that would lead to.

The memory of the masquerade ball is still fresh in your mind. That one night, where the lines had blurred so easily. You’d been wrapped in the heat of his arms, the press of his body against yours, the intoxicating thrill of being with him without anyone knowing.

And then there is Matty. Sweet Matty who is too charming for his own good. You had started seeing him casually, trying to convince yourself you could make it work, and you can’t deny the pull he has on you. How easy it all could be. Being with him feels like standing with the warm embrace of sunshine. 

You love Ewan. You want Matty. Thousands of girls would scramble to be in your position – the one who captured the boys’ affections. You, the one lying there in a hospital gown, with a broken ankle and head gauze.

So glamorous. So desirable. 

Tom’s voice cuts through your thoughts, bringing you back to the present. “So, Spain. Swimming, sunbathing, a giant villa – what do you think?”

You blink, catching up to the conversation. “I think… I’m in.”

Phia grins widely. “Good. Ewan’ll be thrilled you’re coming.”

Liv smiles. “We thought the party could be a way for everyone to unwind, you included. No pressure.”

No pressure. But you know there is pressure – at least, there is for you. You’ve been avoiding it, dancing around the feelings you can’t admit to yourself, let alone to Ewan. And Matty – kind, supportive Matty, who doesn’t deserve to be caught up in your mess.

“Yeah, no pressure,” you say softly, but the words feel hollow.

Phia stands up suddenly, clapping her hands together. “Alright, enough of this emotional nonsense. Let’s talk logistics – birthday cake! We’re doing three layers, one for each of the boys.”

Tom dryly says, “I offered to get Martha to bake it, but we decided against it because her specialty is burnt-charcoal waffles.”

Phia shoots him a deadpan look. “They were practically concrete. Love her though!”

Liv laughs, shaking her head. “We’ll leave the cake to the professionals, thanks.”

As the conversation shifts to party details and farfetched ideas, your mind drifts. You try to stay focused, but your thoughts keep circling back to the same place – Spain, the party, Ewan and Matty. The idea of being around them for days, in a relaxed holiday setting, feels both exciting and terrifying. 

You know it’s not just a party. It’s a ticking time bomb.

Ewan’s footsteps echo in the sterile hospital hallway, his grip tight on the bouquet he’s brought for you – your favourite flowers, carefully chosen. As per Phia’s orders, he had gone home and slept a good 10 hours, being more exhausted than he must have realised. The day after, going back to you was the only thing that came to mind, and he was out the door in no time.

As he rounds the corner toward your room, his steps falter at the sight of someone else approaching. 

Matt.

His tall frame is impossible to miss. He saunters down the hall from the opposite direction, holding a similar bouquet in one hand and a gift bag in the other. Ewan feels the tension twisting in his stomach as Matt’s eyes meet his across the corridor. 

For a moment, the hallway falls into an eerie silence, the air thick with an unspoken challenge. Neither of them says a word as they approach the door to your room at almost the same time, both armed with flowers, both here for you. 

“Ewan,” Matt greets first, his voice low, almost amused.

Ewan nods, keeping his expression neutral. “Matt.”

Ewan’s eyes flick to the flowers in Matt’s hand, and a bitter taste rises in his throat. Matt isn’t just another visitor, he’s the guy who’s been with you while Ewan is forced to sit on the sidelines. 

“You’re here again,” Matt comments, breaking the silence. “Not that I’m surprised.” 

Ewan raises an eyebrow. “And why wouldn’t I be? She needs support.”

Matt’s eyes narrow slightly, and his smile is tight. “I get that. But I’m here now too. She’s got plenty of support.”

Ewan feels a flicker of annoyance, his grip tightening on the bouquet. “You think that’s all it is? Just showing up with flowers and pretending you know what she needs?”

Matt’s jaw clenches, but he keeps his cool. He knows better than to cause a scene in the middle of a public hallway. “And you think you’re the only one who cares about her? The only one who knows her? She and I – we’ve been spending plenty of time together. I’ve got some idea of what she needs.”

The possessiveness in Matt’s tone is unmistakable, and it sets Ewan on edge. He steps closer, his eyes locked on Matt’s. “You’ve only been dating her for a few weeks, mate. But we’ve been through things that you couldn’t even begin to understand.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard all about your history. But let’s be real – if you were so good for her, why’d she end things with you? Why’s she with me now?”

Ewan feels a sharp pang at the reminder, but he doesn’t back down. “If you think things are over between me and her, then you’re mistaken. It will never be over. Maybe you’re a convenience. Someone for the moment.”

Matt takes a step forward, closing the distance between them. “A convenience? Right. I don’t see you making any moves to change the situation. You’ve been content to sit back and watch while I’ve been with her. Maybe you’re the one who’s convenient, yeah?”

Ewan’s jaw tightens, his heart pounding in his chest. He knows Matt’s right, in a way – he’s been stuck, unable to break free from the PR relationship that’s kept him and you apart. But that doesn’t make what Matt’s saying any easier to swallow.

“The way I see it, you’re just a distraction,” Ewan says, his voice sharp, laced with bitterness, “a way for her to forget what she really wants.”

Matt’s eyes flash with anger now, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “And what she really wants is you, is that it? Tell me, Ewan, if you’re so sure she’s still in love with you, why hasn’t she said anything? Why hasn’t she kicked me to the curb and come running back?”

The words hit harder than Ewan expects, and for a moment, he falters. He knows you still love him – he can see it in the way you look at him, the way you can never quite let go. But Matt’s right. You haven’t made a choice. And now here they are, two men standing in a hallway, both fighting for something that feels just out of reach.

Ewan steps even closer. “You think just because you’re in the picture now, I’m going to step aside and let you have her? Not a fucking chance, mate.”

Matt takes a deep breath in an attempt to collect himself. It’s clear to him that Ewan isn’t going to loosen up easily. Especially not when he’s being provoked. “I’m not asking you to step aside. But unless she tells me otherwise, I’ll keep showing up. So maybe you should get used to that.”

Ewan looks away, his voice lowering. “We… both… care about her. I’m not denying that. But don’t fool yourself. She hasn’t made her choice yet.”

“Maybe she hasn’t.” Matt holds his gaze. “But I’m here, and I’m willing to wait. Are you?”

The hallway feels suffocating, the weight of their words heavy in the air. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Ewan speaks again, his voice softer but no less intense.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Matt nods once. “Neither am I.”

They stand there in silence for a moment, the unspoken agreement settling between them. It’s a temporary truce, but they both know this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Finally, they turn toward your room, the door looming in front of them like a gateway to another battle. Ewan’s heart pounds as he pushes the door open, stepping inside, with Matt close behind.

You’re awake, sitting up slightly in bed, looking both surprised and nervous as you see the two of them enter together.

“Well, this is… unexpected,” you say, your voice tinged with humour as your eyes dart between the two men.

“Hey,” Matt says with an easy smile, walking over to place his flowers on the table by your bed. “Thought I’d stop by, check in on you.”

Ewan follows suit, setting his bouquet down next to Matt’s, though his gaze stays fixed on you. “And I came back, as promised.”

“Funny that you show up at the same time.” You glance between them, your brow raising. 

Matt chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, we didn’t exactly plan it.”

Ewan forces a smile, trying to keep things light. “Just making sure you’re not causing any more trouble, darling.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Oh, I’m definitely the troublemaker here.”

Ewan sinks into the chair by your bed while Matt leans against the windowsill, arms crossed. For a brief moment, it almost feels normal. Almost.

“Phia mentioned Spain,” Matt says after a beat, his voice casual, but there’s an edge to his tone. “The birthday trip.”

You nod eagerly. “The joint birthday for the lads.” Your eyes flicker to Ewan. “I feel terrible for missing your birthday last month.”

Ewan shakes his head, his expression softening. “You had a lot going on. Don’t worry about it.”

The casual mention of his birthday tugs at your heartstrings. You hadn’t forgotten exactly, but things had been so complicated. Now, though, guilt gnaws at you.

“I’ll make it up to you,” you say sincerely, looking at Ewan, and the way his eyes hold yours makes your heart skip a beat.

“Yeah, the villa should be fun,” Matt chimes in, but there’s something sharp in his tone. “But we have to be sure you’re in tip top shape first, love.”

“I’ll be the one in the bikini and a leg cast,” you joke. 

The conversation drifts into lighter topics – memories of on-set pranks, silly cast antics – but there’s an underlying tension, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. It’s almost like watching a film in slow motion, each moment dragging longer than it should, with none of you willing to say what you’re really thinking.

After a while, Ewan checks his phone, his brows knitting together. He glances at you, a reluctant sigh escaping his lips. “Darling, I need to head out. I’ve got a meeting with my manager to sort out the filming schedule.”

You nod in understanding. “You did leave LA pretty quickly. I don’t want you getting in trouble because of me.”

Ewan’s gaze softens. “It’s not trouble,” he says quietly. “Not when it’s for you.”

As he walks to the door, he pauses and looks back at you, his expression unreadable. He hesitates, then takes a few steps back toward the bed, leaning down to kiss your forehead gently. The gesture is tender, and it leaves a warmth in its wake that lingers long after he’s gone.

“Rest up, darling,” he murmurs before turning to leave.

You’re left with Matt, the silence between you more comfortable and less tense than it was with Ewan. He moves from his spot by the window and sits down in the chair Ewan just vacated. He offers you a gentle smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “He cares about you a lot, you know,” he says.

“I know,” you reply softly.

Matt smirks, his cheekiness resurfacing. “Almost as much as I do.”

The atmosphere eases after that, Matt joking about the cast’s upcoming trip to Spain, trying to make you laugh. After a while, your body begins to give in to exhaustion, your eyes growing heavy. He notices and encourages you to rest, and you doze off before long, the soft hum of his voice lulling you to sleep. 

But just as you slip into that hazy space between wakefulness and dreaming, you hear Matt’s voice again, quieter now, like he’s talking to himself. Or maybe to you, thinking you’re already asleep.

“I know you still love him,” he says softly, the words almost painful to hear. “I can see it every time you look at him. It’s obvious.”

Your heart tightens in your chest, but you keep your breathing steady, pretending to stay asleep.

“I don’t blame you,” Matt continues, his voice rough with emotion. “He’s good for you, isn’t he? You’ve got history. I knew what I was getting into when we started this… whatever this is. But I can’t help it. I see myself falling in love with you, and it terrifies me.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and your eyes burn behind your closed lids. You want to say something, anything, but you don’t. You lie there, frozen, letting Matty’s confession hang in the air between you.

“You don’t have to choose me,” Matt whispers, almost as if he’s resigned to his fate. “But I… I certainly wouldn’t mind it if you do, love.” He laughs bitterly at the end, then turns serious once more. “We could… we could be happy.”

His voice cracks slightly, and it takes everything in you not to react. You hadn’t realised just how much this meant to him, how deeply he felt. He always seemed so easygoing, so casual, and now you see that there was more beneath the surface. So much more.

You lie still, pretending to sleep, as Matt gently brushes a strand of hair from your face. “I’ll be here, if you want me,” he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper. 

You chose yourself, selfish as it might have been, and you would make the same decision again if given the chance. You needed to do that; you owed it to yourself. You also sought companionship and a shot at happiness with him. But that hadn’t been final. 

No matter who it will be in the end, someone’s heart is going to break. 

Your ankle is forgotten, your concussion a trifling thing.

Because the weight of that choice is a much heavier burden to bear.

The villa in Spain is like something out of a dream, nestled in the rolling hills of Mallorca. Its white stone walls gleam against the deep blue backdrop of the Mediterranean, the ocean stretching endlessly in the distance. The courtyard is lined with blooming florals and tall cypress trees. It’s the kind of place that makes you forget about the rest of the world, even if just for a moment, and let go of everything that’s complicated and heavy.

But not for Ewan, who sits alert under the shade of a large patio umbrella by the pool, clad in only his navy blue swim trunks. His sunglasses are perched on his nose, as he pretends to read a script – his attention is elsewhere. 

They track you, where you’re surrounded by the girls, all of them fussing over you like a flock of mother hens. Your fracture boot is propped up on the sun chair, crutches leaning nearby. 

Ewan smiles to himself when you laugh at something Liv says, your face lighting up completely. He's relieved that you’re able to relax after everything. But underneath that relief is something else – something that coils even tighter every time he glances at Matt nearby.

Matt’s never far, either. Ewan notices it. Of course, he notices. How could he not? The way Matt hovers just on the edge of the group, never too close to seem overbearing but always there. It’s the same thing Ewan’s doing, and it’s infuriating because he knows exactly what it means. 

Ewan watches as a shirtless Matt hands you a cold drink, his hand brushing yours for a second longer than necessary. You look up, smile gratefully at him, and Ewan feels the sharp sting of it, like a jab to the ribs. He clenches his jaw and forces himself to look away, his grip tightening on the already tattered script in his hands.

“Mitchell, my boy,” Freddie says, plopping down in the chair beside him. “You’ve clearly got a thousand-yard stare going on underneath those shades. You alright?”

Ewan shrugs, trying to play it off. “Yeah, just… thinking.”

Freddie is unconvinced, but he doesn’t push. “It’s our celebration in paradise, mate. You should think about getting a drink in you. Pretend to have fun before Tom ropes us all into some ridiculous pool game.”

Ewan huffs a laugh, grateful for the distraction, but it’s short-lived. His eyes drift back to you, watching as Phia ties a sun hat around your head, joking about protecting ‘the merchandise,’ while Liv adjusts the chair to make sure you’re comfortable. You’re surrounded by care, by laughter, and yet… Ewan can’t shake the need to be near you. To be the one making sure you’re alright.

He hates the way Matt looks at you, like he’s got some claim, like he knows what’s best for you. He doesn’t know you. Not like Ewan does. He hasn’t been through the heartbreak, the sleepless nights, the mess of trying to hold it together when everything was falling apart. He hasn’t watched you fight through everything, hasn’t seen the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you love.

Matt is there, sure, but Ewan has been there.

He wants to go over, tell the girls to give you some space, be the one to take care of you himself. But he doesn’t. Not with Matt there, standing just close enough to remind him that you’re not his to take care of. Not anymore. 

“Careful, mate,” Fabien materialises from the side, a drink in hand. “You keep looking at her like that, and it’s gonna get messy.”

“It’s already messy,” Ewan replies, clicking his tongue. He shifts in his seat, trying to focus on the script in front of him, but it’s pointless. He watches as Matt crouches down beside you, leaning in to say something quietly. You laugh, and the sound hits like a white-hot surge to his veins – an instinctual, possessive reaction he can’t suppress. 

Ewan doesn’t want to cause a scene. It’s a holiday, after all – everyone’s in good spirits, and you finally look like you’re getting some much-needed rest.

But before he even realises it, he’s already halfway across the courtyard, his steps brisk and determined. 

“Hey,” Ewan says when he reaches you, his tone light, almost forced. “Mind if I join?”

Matt straightens, settling in the chair next to you. “Well, look who finally decided to come over. Thought you were just going to lurk all day.”

You shift in your chair, adjusting your fracture boot, letting Ewan sit next to your outstretched legs. “I’m fine, by the way. If that’s what this is about.”

The girls are now watching intently in their respective sun chairs, pretending to sip their drinks but clearly enjoying the show. You’re caught between rolling your eyes and laughing at the sheer absurdity of it all.

Ewan casts a quick glance at your ankle boot, the tenderness in his gaze flickering just for a moment before he locks eyes with Matt again. “I’m just making sure you’re not overwhelming her. She might need her space,” he says.

Matt raises an eyebrow, his casual posture not matching the edge in his voice. “Space? Mate, that’s rich coming from the guy who’s crowding her chair right now.”

Phia snorts into her drink, earning a stern look from Liv, but it’s too late. The tension is starting to draw a crowd, and even Fabien and Freddie are craning their necks to watch. Freddie whispers something to Fabien, who laughs, clearly entertained.

Instead of rising to the bait, Ewan exhales sharply and forces a smile. “Just making sure my… friend is comfortable.”

Liv arches an eyebrow. “My god, friend, is it? Please don’t tell me I’m your friend too.”

Emma freely chortles at Liv’s remark, while Phia doubles over in glee.

You interject with a sigh, waving your hands between them. “Okay, enough. I love a good ego battle as much as the next girl, but seriously – this is supposed to be a holiday. Can we not do this?”

“Honestly, you two,” Phia says, “I thought I already made it clear – she’s my girl.”

The tension cracks as the group erupts into laughter, and even Ewan and Matt can’t help but smile. 

“Alright, alright,” Ewan mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “Truce. For now.”

Matt smirks, extending a hand mockingly toward Ewan, who rolls his eyes but shakes it briefly before turning his attention back to you. His gaze softens as he catches your eye. “Just… don’t overdo it, yeah?”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling. “I’m the one in a boot. Trust me, I’m not going anywhere fast.”

Emma’s enjoying the scene, calmly sipping on their negroni sbagliato. “Honestly, with the way things are unfolding, this drama could end up being better than the show.”

Before anyone can throw in another comment, Ewan’s phone vibrates in the pocket of his trunks. His expression darkens briefly when he glances at the screen. It’s his manager, but she knows not to disturb him on holiday unless it’s urgent. “I’ve got to take this. I’ll be right back.” He catches your eye for a brief moment before stepping away.

The world of Hollywood is no stranger to scandal, but this one is poised to shake the industry to its core.

Bruce Haversham, the powerful executive behind some of the biggest film projects in recent decades, had been untouchable at the very top of the mountain. Until now.

The news broke late in the afternoon, first as a whisper across social media before exploding into full-blown coverage on every major network. Accusations of sexual harassment and assault came pouring in, one after the other, each more damning than the last.

By the time the story hit the major outlets, it was clear that Bruce Haversham’s reign was over.

In New York, where he had been arrested, footage of him being escorted from his apartment in handcuffs circulated widely. The headlines were merciless: Hollywood Titan Falls, The End of Bruce Haversham’s Empire, A Predator Unmasked.

For Ewan, this is more than just a story on the evening news. It’s personal.

It was Bruce who masterminded the PR relationship that drove a wedge between Ewan and the one he truly loves. 

Now, everything changes. Bruce Haversham is out. Effective immediately. 

The path ahead wouldn’t be easy – far from it – but now, at least it is a path Ewan can walk freely. 

His mind races as he drops the call, the flood of information almost too much to process at once. Talk about a late birthday gift.

The relief hit him fast, like a cool rush of air. But it is immediately followed by something else – confusion, uncertainty. What now? What does this mean for him, and for you?

Matt had swooped in, offering you comfort and companionship, complicating things further. He cares about you, Ewan knows that. And from the outside, it makes sense – you and Matt seem good together. 

But Ewan knows better. Deep down, he is certain – absolutely sure – that what you and he shared isn’t just good. It was right. You and him… you are perfect together.

Ewan’s free from his strings, and all bets are off. 

It’s all or nothing this time. 

💌 next chapter

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

The rest of the holiday will take up most of part 12! Ewan can actually properly enjoy himself now 😉

Don't think it'll be that easy! Darling's tied to Matty too, in a way. And after that confession? Damn it, Matthew, you sly loverboy you.

How far will Ewan go? And will Matty double down on his efforts? It's all chemical. It's all overriding. 🤷🏻‍♀️💙

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Three

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

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

Warnings: None that I can think of. Cassian, Azriel, and Y/n go to a romantic library

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

“I. Can’t. Believe. It.” Cassian paced the floor in front of his brothers with his hands on his hips.

“I know.” Azriel said miserably. 

“I can’t believe it.” 

Rhysand smirked, leaning back on Az’s bed with his head propped up beneath his arm. They’d all been in shock leaving the Alcove. Even Helion had been uncharacteristically silent, contemplating what to do now that it looked like his daughter was mates with the Shadowsinger.

Upon return to the Sun Palace they’d found Azriel in his room, head in his hands as his shadows flurried around him in displeasure.

“You fucking ran away from your mate.” Cassian was incredulous, “Over 500 years you’ve been desperate for one, and the moment the bond snaps into place, you fucking run away? What the fuck, Az?”

“As if you or Rhys did any better.” Az growled. Already he could feel the tug of the bond towards you. It was part of the reason he’d run away in the first place. Better to hide and brood over this secret than overwhelm you more than he already had.

“He’s got a point there, Cas.”

“Shut up! Az should know better than to follow in our footsteps.” 

“That we can all agree on,” Feyre said, breezing into the room and finding her rightful place on the bed beside her husband. He kissed her on the temple and Azriel felt a wave of jealousy wash over him. He had a mate. A mate who had flinched whenever he came too close. The memory turned the contents of his stomach into ash. Bitter and cruel.

“It’s not that simple. You saw her tonight. She couldn’t stand being near me.” 

Rhys’s eyes fluttered down to the female in his arms and Feyre, always in sync with Rhys, glanced up at the same time, a look of regret in her eyes. 

“Sorry, Rhys.” Az apologized, but he waved it off.

“It might not have been you. We’ve no idea what kind of history she has. What her experience has been with other fae. With males.” 

Az’s eyes darkened, his shadows similarly taking on a more vicious tone. That knife in his gut twisted to the side at the thought of anyone hurting you.

“What Rhys means to say,” Feyre said, catching the flicker of darkness around Azriel’s edges, “Is that until you get to know her better, you can’t come to any conclusions about her actions tonight.” A light turned on in her mind and Rhys nodded his head in agreement, “You and Cass should go see her in the morning. Ask her to take you to the library with the romance books so he can find Nesta something. It should give you more than enough time to talk.” 

“I will not be supervised by Cassian.”

“Why not, brother? You and your little Librarian can’t be worse than Nesta and I were.” 

Azriel lunged at him, ready to smack him in the back of the head, but Feyre slid between them before he could get too close.

“No. No fighting tonight. You can pummel each other to a pulp when we’re home.” 

“Promise?” Cassian winked. 

Az rolled his eyes and frowned. “This is a terrible time for a mating bond, Fey. Koschei-” 

“Has there ever been a good time for a mating bond?” 

Azriel fell silent, unable to refute his High Lady.

“Rhys and I will take care of that business tomorrow with Helion.” She said with a tone of finality, holding Azriel’s face between her hands, “This is a good thing, Az. Enjoy it. Get to know her. Get to know your mate.”

Your mate. 

The words floated around in Azriel’s mind as he lay in bed and watched the light start to bleed back into the world. He’d been thinking about you all night. You with your soft hair and sheepish smile. You with your mismatched mugs and cheeks flushed with color. He was grateful that Day Court life started early, because he didn’t think he’d be able to stay in bed much longer.

Breakfast was a quick affair, and no one missed the way the Shadowsinger quickly ate, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he watched Cassian savor every bite of his waffles, berry custard, sausages, and tea. Cassian smiled from across the table and Azriel scowled, silently urging him to hurry up. They were wasting precious time.

The moment the last drop from Cassian’s cup was in his mouth, Azriel was hauling him out of his seat and towards the window. Helion narrowed his eyes at the pair but said nothing as their leathery wings flared out without hesitation and they leapt from the Sun Palace.

Azriel’s breath caught in his throat when you opened the door, fresh-faced and smelling like mint and rose. You blinked in surprise, once again half-hiding your body behind the cherry wood door. After his abrupt departure last night, you’d paced the floor of your kitchen, aggressively cleaning the dishes as you mulled over everything you must have done wrong in order for him to react like that. Perhaps you’d offended him somehow? Things had certainly felt fine before. You’d enjoyed talking to them… especially him.  

“My Lords,” You said with a quick dip of your head. Azriel cringed at the title and Cassian, for the sake of his brother, didn’t poke fun, “Um…why are you here? Or-sorry-what can I do for you today?” 

Cassian’s grin was broad and mischievous, “We were hoping you could show us the romance library. The one you told us about last night. I don’t think I could leave the Day Court in good conscience without something salacious to bring home to Nesta.” 

“Oh I um…” You glanced behind you at your living room. You’d hoped to finish reading two of your books on containment spells today, perhaps start summarizing some of your findings and look for connections.

“I-” He coughed, “We don’t want to burden you with this if you’re busy.” Azriel jumped in. 

Please say you’ll come. Please say you’ll come. He all but shouted the words down the bond. 

There was something so hopeful about the way he looked at you, as if he was silently begging you to say yes, that you couldn’t refuse him. 

“No, no. I didn’t have anything planned. Just… just give me a few minutes.” With that you shut the door in their faces and ran to your bedroom, reemerging exactly three minutes later wearing a pale yellow dress with sensible brown shoes and a matching coat. Aside from your hands - which you hid within your deep pockets - and your face, not a scrap of skin was to be found anywhere.

You hesitated at the doorway. Both Cassian and Azriel stood too close, crowding the marble steps leading down to the pale cobblestone streets. Azriel elbowed Cassian out of the way, all but pushing him down the steps with you following six feet behind.

“Lead the way, little Librarian.” Cassian said when they reached the bottom, swinging his arm out to the side. 

Despite the festivities that had taken place the day before, fae were already wide awake and winding through the streets with groceries and fresh baked bread tucked under the arms. The scholars were the easiest to pick out, milling about the coffeeshops and athenaeums with ink stained fingertips and the scent of old paper clinging to their coats. 

Since the war with Hybern, the Day Court’s borders had loosened to accept more visiting researchers from other courts. Intermixed with the usual jumble of fae were tawny-winged Peregryns from Dawn, salt-skinned sailors from Summer, even the occasional fluttering of Spring Court nymph wings could be spotted, shimmering iridescent pinks and purples. 

A quarter mile away, the weekly market was beginning to stir with life, offering up the best artisanal wares in all of Prythian. Hand-stitched leather bound journals, elegant fountain pens with a never-ending ink supply, satchels that could hold up to two-hundred pounds worth of material and still feel as light as a feather. Azriel would have investigated further if you hadn’t steered the pair down a narrower neighborhood street, a pink-stoned athenaeum waiting at the end. 

“This is the 69th sector athenaeum.” You announced. Cassian coughed into his fist, “And before you ask, yes, the location was selected very intentionally.” 

The Illyrian’s face turned a bright red, cheeks flaring out as he attempted to stifle his laughter. Azriel closed his eyes, one hand coming up to rub at his temples. You could have sworn you heard him mumble “Mother give me strength” beneath his breath.

“And what do you call this place?” Azriel asked curiously, trying to turn your attention away from a very immature Cassian, “The “69th sector atheneum” doesn’t have a very pleasing ring to it.” 

You blushed, “We call it The Loveseat.”

“A very-” Cassian wheezed, “A very appropriate-” Wheeze, “A very appropriate name.” 

You shook your head, hiding your smirk as you opened the double doors and stepped inside. The library dedicated to lovers took its theme very seriously, as most athenaeums were apt to do. Lush velvet couches, bouquets of flowers in every shade imaginable, and paintings of love and affection were carefully laid out in between shelves of auburn-stained wood that reached as high as the ceiling. Walkways criss-crossed above their heads forming a spiral pattern that ended at the domed ceiling where someone had painstakingly painted a collection of confessional scenes from Prythian’s most cherished romance novels.

Cassian may have been all teenage jokes before, but he melted at the sight of the ceiling. He thought of Nesta and tugged on the bond, letting her see the athenaeum before him.

“The more explicit works are in the back.” You said, pointing down towards the back staircase which would take any full-grown fae to the lower level. But Cassian had already drifted off, silently following Nesta’s guidance as he scanned the shelves.

“How do you know that?” Azriel asked once Cassian had all but disappeared.

“Hmmm?” 

“How do you know the more explicit works are in the back?” 

You fell silent, tugging your sleeves over your hands as you chewed the inside of your cheek. The Shadowsinger tipped his head back and laughed. Not a hidden smile, not a barely-there smirk, or near-silent chuckle, but a gentle full-bodied laugh that shook his wings.

You gaped at him, “A female is allowed to have hobbies, is she not?”

He shook his raven-black hair, the faint waves within it rippling and catching the warm light that trickled down from the ceiling, “I never said she wasn’t. And I would never deny anyone their smutty romance books if that’s what made them happy. After all, I am Nesta’s brother-in-law.” 

You leaned against a nearby bookcase, absentmindedly running your ink-stained fingers over the spines and getting flashes of knowledge - the death of a brother, a night spent sweaty and spent under the stars, the exhilarating lurch that comes when two lips kiss for the first time. You couldn’t help but insert the Shadowsinger into the picture.

“And what makes you happy, Azriel? What do you like to do for fun?”

There was a pause, as if no one had ever asked him that question before.

“I like to spend time with my family.” He said, slipping into the shelves and ducking down so he could see you through the space between the books. For the first time in a while, you disliked the physical barrier between you and another person.

You shook your head, pretending to read the titles so you wouldn’t look into those hazel eyes, “That’s not a hobby though.” 

He shrugged, “The nature of my work keeps me away from most things. I don’t often have time for things I enjoy.” 

“But you do have things you enjoy, don’t you? Something to take your mind off the nature of your work.”

Azriel stilled, no longer moving with you and you realized you must have overstepped your bounds.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you-” 

“I like music.” He said finally after some contemplation, “I like flying over the musician’s quarter in Velaris so I can hear what they’re playing at the theater. Sometimes I’ll sneak in and hide in the rafters.” 

He’d never told anyone that. But you only nodded in agreement, as if sneaking around in your own city and into shows you could afford in a moment’s notice were a normal thing to do. 

“That seems very appropriate for a Shadowsinger.” 

The strange dance you’d been dueting came to an abrupt end when the shelves stopped, spitting the two of you out into one of the narrow aisles face to face. 

Azriel smiled at you, exposing his teeth in a rare smile. Other than the smallest chip in his left canine, they were pristine - as perfectly imperfect as the rest of him.

“Now you tell me. What do you like to do?”

“Well you already know I like smutty romance novels.” 

“Naturally.” He said, gesturing to the space they were in.

You looked around the room, breathed in the smell of roses and ink. You shrugged, “I like to read.” 

“Naturally.” The Shadowsinger repeated.

“I… I suppose I like to sing.”

He leaned forward, as if it were a secret, “A little songbird then?” 

“No, no, I’m not good at it. But there’s a pianist who lives down the street from me so I end up memorizing her songs.”

You wracked your brain for anything more to say. Something that would make you appear more interesting, braver, kinder, special… someone worthy of the attention you were receiving from this male. You had never been the most physically inclined, hence why the elite Bookkeepers - Librarians charged with the physical protection of their respective athenaeums - had passed you over. You weren’t one for baking or crafting or gardening or hosting parties or any of the rest of those things. You didn’t know how to draw, you’d never picked up an instrument, you tried embroidery once and found it boring. 

“I think… I think that’s it, really.” You said, sounding defeated. 

Azriel hadn’t taken his eyes off you the entire time you were thinking. Not for a single second, “I don’t believe you.” 

“Well you don’t know me so…”

“Maybe not yet. But I would like to, Y/n the Librarian. If you’d let me.” 

The feeling that crept up into your throat and lodged itself there took you by surprise. Some mortifying realization that you were becoming emotional in front of the Shadowsinger. You cleared your throat, dipping your head down and diving back into the shelves so he couldn’t see your silvery eyes. 

“Tell me more about the kinds of things academics concern themselves with.” Azriel said smoothly, calling back your conversation from the night before as he peered over a dense set of bodice-rippers at you. If he wanted to take your mind off things, he was doing an excellent job.

“Hardcover versus paperback.” Your fingers skimmed over the book bindings. Bodice-rippers indeed.

“And?”

You pursed your lips, thoughts of Nesta and her smutty books coming into mind before you could help yourself.

“Ahhh, you just thought of something. Tell me.” 

“I don’t want to.” You mumbled, but the Shadowsinger only arched his brows.

You rolled your eyes in defeat. Not that you’d put up much of a fight. He was the Shadowsinger after all, he could learn what you had for breakfast three weeks ago if he really wanted to. 

“I… I once got into a heated argument with a certain erotica writer about the physical impossibility of a human having sex with a dragon-born fae…”

He blinked, tipped his head back, and laughed. One of those full-bellied ones again. You swiveled around, grateful to find that the only other fae on this floor were currently lip-locked on a sofa ten shelves down. They were far too preoccupied to make a noise complaint.

“It’s not funny!” You hissed, “There are certain anatomical considerations that can’t be ignored. You can’t-” Your futile attempts at explaining yourself were only met with louder laughter. It was infectious and suddenly that was all you two seemed to be capable of. Both of you doubled over with laughter on opposite sides of the bookshelf in a building that suddenly seemed too cramped, too small to fit the joy within.

“Please-” Azriel chuckled, “Please tell me how long this lasted.”

“I can’t breathe-” You gasped for breath, “Oh gods. Three months?”

“Three months?”

“There are nuances we got into. And they use a pseudonym so we were sending letters.”

“Letters?”

Luckily, or rather unluckily for you, you were saved from further explanation, because there was someone waiting at the end of the shelves with two thin fists propped up on curvy hips. 

You bit down on your tongue as she sashayed forward, forcing you backward like she knew you would. Azriel immediately stepped to the side as you careened back out into the aisle, your laughter long forgotten. A new crowd was beginning to spread throughout the athenaeum - shy couples on first outings, sheepish young ones searching for the most heart-wrenching stories they could find, older fae looking for a little spark in their comparably milder lives.

But Azriel’s full attention was on you and the displeasure written in your tight lips as the short-haired pixie came out in full view.

“Y/n.” She said, a sugary sweetness in the way she said your name, like rotten fruit.

“Marsha.” You replied curtly, instinctively stepping back and closer to Azriel as the female moved forward to hug you. She rolled her eyes at the rejection, immediately taking notice of Azriel’s dark and towering form. Her small, round lips opened in a surprised oh before sinking into a low bow, chest jutting forward in an attempt to make full use of her small bosom. She wore the signature pale blue robes of another athenaeum - The Blue Drink. 

“My Lord Shadowsinger.” More sickly sweet words.

For the first time in Azriel’s life, he didn’t correct her use of his title, already deciding from your reaction that this was not a female he wanted to associate with.

“It is good to see you out and about, Y/n, and in such distinguished company. Hardly anyone sees you anymore, my dear. I can’t imagine what you must be doing with all that time.”

You swallowed, “The High Lord has me on special business. But you already know that, Marsha.” 

“Bah. Special business.” She threw a hand in the air, swatting away your confidence, “Busy work.” 

“It’s not- '' You bit your tongue. Marsha was one of the few fae who knew you were Helion’s bastard daughter. A complex story that involved her close friendship with Helion's ex-lover who’d felt betrayed when he chose you and your mother over him. Since then she’d convinced herself that all you did was drain from the royal coffers and take advantage of her High Lord’s generosity like some parasite, “It’s not busy work.”

“Then why do you never share it with us? No papers written. No books published.” Even her frown was sickly sweet, “It seems a waste, doesn’t it?”

 You remembered what she’d said to you, back when you were an apprentice. What a waste of a Clairvoyant. Your mother didn’t fall into bed like a common whore for you to choose The Alcove and hide your power.

She tsked her tongue, once again shooting Azriel a deceptively sweet smile, “Well I suppose you have other things taking up your time. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I see.” 

Your face paled, half in embarrassment and half in anger. By all means she shouldn’t have known anything, but as it was with all Librarians, she had a stubborn streak for digging in graves that should remain buried. You could respect her loyalty to her friend. The rest you could not.

Your mother didn’t fall into bed like a common whore for you to choose The Alcove and hide your power.

“I’m happy for the pair of you.” 

Bullshit.

You finally opened your mouth to correct her, but Azriel spoke first, one hand ghosting ever so close to the square of your back, but never making contact, “Thank you. We were just leaving.” Azriel said curtly, jaw clenched. With just a few polite, yet dangerous words from the Shadowsinger, Marsha clamped her mouth shut and said no more. 

Azriel tipped his head towards the way you’d originally come, letting you take the lead. You shot him a look of gratitude to which he returned the subtlest of smiles. A kind of smile that said, we can talk later, if you’d like.

You didn’t speak a word to one another until you were outside. Fae mingled about, their conversations doing nothing to drown out your thoughts as you walked over to the small garden. The greenery was half-sunken in the ground beneath the two main stairs that wound together in the shape of a heart. If it were anatomically correct you’d be sitting in the tricuspid valve. 

Azriel sat down on the bench beside you, despite the discomfort it must have caused his wings. His shadows darted out, pooling out of his skin and beginning to cover your hands and arms in a strange hug. Azriel’s heart clenched painfully in his chest, some lingering shame of yours leaking through the bond without you even realizing it. 

“We should let Cassian know where we are.” You said quietly, hands folded in your lap. Your shoulders bent inward like the curling of paper when it begins to catch fire.

“He’s a grown Illyrian. He’ll find us eventually.” 

And even if he didn’t, I would be happy to sit here forever. 

Azriel had been furious inside the athenaeum, the already red room turning redder as he saw the light flicker out of your eyes at Marsha’s comment. Perhaps it was another sign of the mating bond that he’d so wanted to slap that prideful smile off her face. It would be beneath him, but satisfying nevertheless.

“Are you alright?” He asked gently.

You huffed, discreetly blotting out the moisture that had collected in the corners of your eyes, “I am alright. I’m sorry about what happened inside. It wasn’t anything important.”

“You don’t need to apologize for that.” 

Gods, he was being kind. Kinder than he needed to be. What were you doing charading two legendary Illyrian warriors through the streets of Day? Stirring up old emotions in public spaces and making a scene in front of him.

“No, I do. It wasn’t right of me to react that way. I should’ve hidden it better.” 

“You barely reacted at all.” 

Something about his insistence made you feel worse, not better. The emotions you’d been trying to tamp down since the party, and probably far longer than that, were bubbling to the surface. 

“Please tell me what’s wrong, Y/n. Tell me the truth.”

The truth… 

The truth was that you were a mess. You continuously shrank away from Helion’s attempts to foster a relationship with you, the discomfort you felt leaving your apartment for anything other than work was becoming an unignorable problem, and the mere thought of anyone touching you made your stomach clench. Even the Shadowsinger, whose touch you craved right now, felt like a beast behind a door that should never be opened. It might destroy you if you did.

Koschei.

Koschei.

Koschei.

What’s buried beneath the lake? 

What’s buried beneath the lake?

What’s buried beneath the lake?

“There you both are!” Cassian called out, his neck craning around a stack of books that were piled from his waist to his forehead. His cheeks were touched with color, eyes bright with mischief like a boy seeing a naked lady for the first time. No doubt a consequence of the visions Nesta had been shooting down the bond as he’d scanned the shelves and flipped through the pages.

Azriel hated the way you sprang up from the seat and smoothed your dress, like you wanted to be anywhere else but with him. He’d pushed too far. Come on too strong. Damn it. 

On the return trip to the Alcove, you and Cassian spoke casually about the books he’d selected. Or rather, Cassian rambled and you listened, occasionally chiming in if you were familiar with one of Nesta’s favorite authors and offering suggestions. 

Azriel walked a few paces behind, watching you as you instinctively tightened your back whenever Cassain or anyone else drifted too close, twisting and turning in a manner that seemed effortless, but which Azriel could see was constantly on your mind. There wasn’t a single step you took that was mindless and calm. 

Azriel clenched his fists so tightly he felt his nails digging crescent-shaped marks in his palms. He wanted to hold you close, beg you to tell him what was wrong, what he could do to help. But if there was anyone who could understand the fear of being touched, of touching others, it was him. 

So when they reached The Alcove, all he did was wave to you from the bottom of the steps as you turned and said goodbye. He committed the scene to memory - your smile, the flush of your cheeks, the swish of your skirt as the door closed shut with a gentle thud.

Cassian whistled low, kicking his brother in the shin with a wobble of books, “You’re whipped, Az. Absolutely whipped.” 

And he was right. He was absolutely right.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

*sighs* I just want Azriel to be happy...

As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

On a completely unrelated note: I watched Howl's Moving Castle last night and I think it altered my brain chemistry.

"There you are, sweetheart, sorry I’m late. I was looking everywhere for you”

AHHHHHH just AKJDBFHAB ESKLCFNHSDN

Love,

Florence B.

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[quinzzelx]

Shadows and Starlight

Part 2

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's Starfall and with Starfall come some unpleasant memories. But your excitement to finally see Azriel again wins you over. Catching up with your family, you find that the evening is approaching fast. What happens when Azriel returns and you finally see each other again?

Chapter 01 // Chapter 03

Word Count: 8.8K Well, this is a lengthy one.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Trauma, Flashbacks of Torture, Mentions of SA, A lot of Family bonding, Angst, Teeth rotting Fluff, and Sexual content. I have not proofread this yet, since I wanted to get this up as quickly as possible. A/N: Oh my god, GUYS!!! I am overwhelmed by the positivity and love you showered the first chapter with! You have honestly no idea how happy this makes me. I'm so glad people seem to enjoy it and I truly hope that this part will do the first one justice. Feel free to comment and share your thoughts. Feedback is always appreciated! Also, come chat with me in my inbox!

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As you wake up on Starfall morning, a sense of weariness washes over you, the remnants of a night spent tossing and turning, haunted by dreams of the past and the phantom pains that still linger in your scars. Despite the soft caress of your satin nightgown against your skin, every movement sends a twinge of discomfort coursing through your body, a reminder of the battles you've fought.

Tracing your fingertips over the pale, jagged carvings that mar your stomach, you're transported back to the horrors of Amarantha's trap, the allure of her twisted game pulling you deeper into her web with each passing moment. Rhys had begged you to stay home, his instincts warning him that something wasn't right about this meeting, this gathering, but something inside you knew that you couldn't sit idly by while he faced danger alone. And so you insisted on accompanying him, despite the protests and the danger it posed to you both. There were moments of doubt, fleeting glimpses of regret that whispered in the recesses of your mind.

Especially in the darkness of those colder, harsher nights. Nights when even the simple act of opening your eyes felt like an insurmountable task, weighed down not just by the heavy iron chains that bound you to the ground, but by the imposing weight of impending death that hung heavy on your shoulders.

Turning onto your side, you wince as you feel the numerous scars on your back, traces of the lashings you sustained at Amarantha's hands. She was cruel in her efforts to use you as a tool to hurt Rhys further, inflicting pain upon pain in her relentless quest for power. But despite the physical scars that mar your skin, it's the emotional scars that run the deepest, the memories of your shared trauma with Rhys threatening to pull you back into the depths of despair.

Your wounds festered, infected by the cruel hands of Amarantha, who took perverse pleasure in keeping them open and inflicting new ones upon you, layering pain upon pain with each lash of her whip. Faebane slowed your healing, leaving you vulnerable to the biting cold that seeped into your bruised body, each breath a struggle against the suffocating grip of agony. On one such night, Amarantha's rage burned brighter than usual, her fury directed solely at you. Bound naked to her bedpost, your emaciated form contorted in unnatural ways, the strain and angle of your bindings causing one shoulder to scream in protest. She carved vile curses into the soft flesh of your stomach, taunting you with each cruel stroke of her blade.

And then Rhys entered, his horror evident in the fleeting glimpse you caught of his face before the mask of stoicism fell back into place. But his appearance ignited something within Amarantha, sparking a twisted idea that would haunt you for years to come. Forced to watch as Rhys administered the next lashes, forced to endure the searing pain as he used his Deamanti powers on you, you felt a sliver of relief amidst the agony as his apologies echoed in your mind, his powers soothing the raw edges of your suffering. He tried numbing your pain, taking away the searing heat that your wounds imposed. But Amarantha wasn't satisfied with just inflicting physical pain – she wanted to break you completely, to strip away every last shred of dignity and humanity. And so she made you watch as she rode Rhys, fucking him without hesitation, with favor, your body still bound to the bedpost, blood dripping down your exposed skin, your chest heaving with shallow breaths. She got off on it, the hot tears running down your face, leaving streaks in the dried blood on your face. Even in your state then, your eyes beheld a promise of death. But never had you felt this helpless, having to watch as Amarantha used Rhys as her personal sex-slave. Rhys was your family, your High Lord! And all you could do was watch.

It was a night of unspeakable horror, one of the darkest moments of your life. And yet, amidst the despair, there was a glimmer of hope – She was this mad because of Feyre, because she wanted to break the curse. As you lay there, on the floor of your cell, embracing the cold arms of death, Rhys hurriedly came barging in. He knelt beside you on the cold stone floor, tears streaming down his face as he cradled your head in his hands, offering what little comfort he could in the face of such unimaginable pain.

"Gods, what have I done?" Rhys whispered, his voice choked with sorrow and regret. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted this for you. I never wanted any of this." His words were like a knife to your heart, each apology cutting deeper than the last as you struggled to cling to consciousness. "Rhys," you managed to rasp, your voice barely a whisper. "Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault." But he shook his head, his tears falling freely now as he pressed his forehead against yours. "I should have protected you. I should have never let this happen to you."

You reached up, weakly grasping his hand as you tried to offer him what little comfort you could. "It's not your fault," you repeated, your voice growing fainter with each passing moment. "I love you, Rhys. Please... don't blame yourself."

But Rhys's anguish only seemed to deepen at your words, his sobs wracking his body as he pleaded with you to hold on, to fight against the darkness that threatened to consume you both. "Please," he begged, his voice raw with emotion as he called your name. "Don't leave me. I can't bear to lose you. Please, stay with me." And as you felt the cold embrace of death drawing ever closer, you clung to his hand, drawing strength from the love and warmth that radiated from him. "I'll try," you rasped, your voice barely audible now. "I'll try, Rhys. I promise."

And with those final words, you drifted into darkness, leaving Rhys alone with his grief and his guilt, his tears mingling with yours as he prayed to the Mother for a miracle, for a chance to make things right.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you try to calm your mind, to push aside the memories that threaten to overwhelm you. Today is supposed to be a day of celebration, a time to put aside the pain of the past and focus on the joy of the present.

As someone knocks at the bedroom door, you groan, burying your face in the pillow, exhausted and emotionally drained from the tumultuous memories that still linger in your mind. Calling out for the person to enter, you brace yourself for the intrusion, the weight of the world pressing down upon your shoulders. To your surprise, it's Rhys who enters, his presence like a balm to your weary soul. As if sensing the chaos within you, he seems equally stressed by the preparations for the day, Nyx cradled in his arms. Your eyes soften when they land on the toddler, his small wings flapping excitedly as he spots you, extending his arms out in a silent plea to be held. Rhys sits down beside you on the bed, a gentle look on his face as he takes in your tired form. Nyx immediately pounces on you, his laughter filling the room with infectious joy. Despite your exhaustion, you can't help but smile at the sight of the young boy, his innocence a welcome distraction from the weight of the world.

"Hey there, little one," you murmur, scooping Nyx into your arms and showering him with kisses. He giggles in delight, his tiny hands reaching out to touch your face with a sense of wonder. Rhys watches the exchange with a soft smile, his violet eyes filled with warmth and affection. "I thought Nyx might help cheer you up," he says gently, his voice laced with concern. "It's been a rough morning, hasn't it?" You nod, unable to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions that have been swirling inside you since you woke up. But as you hold Nyx close, his laughter echoing in your ears, you feel a sense of peace settle over you, if only for a fleeting moment. Rhys leans closer, his hand finding yours on the bed, offering silent support. "Are you okay?" he asks softly, concern etched in his eyes.

You manage a weak smile, squeezing his hand in return. "I'm... trying to be," you admit, your voice tinged with exhaustion. "It's just... a lot, you know?" He nods understandingly, his thumb tracing comforting circles on the back of your hand. "I know," he murmurs, his gaze softening. "But we'll get through this, together. I promise." The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, a silent reminder of the bond that binds you both, even in the darkest of times. "Thank you, Rhys," you whisper, your voice barely above a whisper. "For everything."

He smiles, a gentle expression that lights up his features. "Anytime," he says softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. "We're in this together, remember? No matter what."

As you settle into a more comfortable rhythm, the conversation shifts to lighter topics, a welcome distraction from the weight of the morning's emotions. "So," Rhys begins, his tone lighter now, "did you hear about Cassian's little mishap with the ladder this morning?" You raise an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in your eyes. "Oh? Do tell," you urge, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. Rhys chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, apparently he thought he could single-handedly take on the task of putting up the decorations," he explains, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "But Feyre and Elain had other ideas."

You laugh at the mental image of Cassian attempting to navigate a ladder while Feyre and Elain guided him from below, their laughter echoing through the halls of the House of Wind. "And then," Rhys continues, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "just as he was reaching for the top, the ladder slipped out from under him, and down he went!" You can't help but giggle at the thought of Cassian tumbling to the ground, his pride wounded but otherwise unharmed. "Poor Cass," you tease, shaking your head in mock sympathy. "I hope he's okay." The Highlord says, his smile widening. "Oh, he's fine," he assures you. "Just a bruised ego, I think."

Before you can respond, Nyx interrupts with a babble of his own, his tiny hands reaching out to grab at Rhys's hair. You laugh, gently untangling Nyx's fingers from Rhys's locks as you listen to the toddler's excited chatter. Rhys grins, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looks down at his son. "I spoke to Azriel yesterday," he says casually, shifting the conversation back to more serious matters. "He should be back today, just in time for Starfall."

You feel a surge of anticipation at the mention of Azriel's return, your heart skipping a beat at the thought of seeing him again after his absence. "That's great news," you reply, trying to keep your voice casual despite the butterflies in your stomach. "I'm sure he'll be relieved to be home." He nods, a knowing glint in his eye. "Oh, I'm sure he will be," he says cryptically, a teasing smile playing at his lips. "After all, there are certain people who have been eagerly awaiting his return."

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a smile at Rhys's playful teasing. "You're incorrigible," you tease, giving him a playful shove. "But I'm glad Azriel's coming back. It's not the same without him." The conversation ebbs into comfortable silence as you play with the toddler sat on your lap. When you notice Rhys’s eyes glaze over, the violet of his eyes dulling just slightly, you look at him with a cocked eyebrow. “Is our Highlord required somewhere?” You ask with a small smile on your lips. “Yes, I fear duty calls.”

As Rhys leaves with Nyx in tow, a sense of tranquility settles over you, the bustling energy of the morning quieting to a gentle hum. With a sigh of relief, you make your way to the bath, the promise of warm water and solitude beckoning to you like a beacon in the storm.

Sinking into the soothing embrace of the bath, the warmth seeping into your tired muscles and easing the knots of tension that had been building within you. With each passing moment, the cares of the world seem to slip away, replaced by a sense of peace and calm that settles deep within your soul. With each passing moment, you feel yourself growing lighter, the weight of the morning's emotions gradually fading into the background as you focus on the simple pleasure of being present in this moment. Only when the skin on your hands starts to wrinkle, do you decide to leave the comfort of your bath.

After drying off, you quickly set about getting ready for the day ahead. With practiced ease, you slip into your clothes, the fabric smooth against your skin as you dress. You run a brush through your hair, smoothing out any tangles and pulling it back into a simple yet elegant style. With one last glance in the mirror, you nod in satisfaction, a sense of determination settling over you. Today is a new day. Starfall to be exact. You would not let the past control the present.

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As you make your way downstairs, noon is just beginning to unfold, the soft light of the early sun filtering through the windows of the House of Wind. The air is filled with the gentle hum of activity as preparations for the evening's festivities are underway. You take a moment to admire the decorations that Cassian had so painstakingly put up, a fond smile playing at the corners of your lips as you remember his earlier mishap with the ladder. Despite the chaos of it all, there's a sense of excitement building in the air, a unmistakable energy that sets your heart racing with anticipation.

Making your way to where Feyre and Elain were sitting in the kitchen, you exchange greetings with them, falling into easy conversation. The smell of freshly brewed tea fills the air, and you can't help but relax as you sink into a chair at the table. "So, what's on the agenda for today?" Feyre asks, pouring a cup of tea for each of you.

Elain smiles softly, her doe-eyes lighting up with excitement. "I was thinking of spending some time in the gardens," she says. "I've been working on a few new plantings, and I'd love to show them to you." You nod eagerly, honestly intrigued by Elain's passion for gardening. "I'd love to see them," you reply, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Whilst you sip your tea, the conversation turns to lighter topics, and you find yourself laughing and joking with Feyre and Elain. It's moments like these that remind you of why you cherish your time with them. Suddenly, Elain's voice breaks through your thoughts, her tone soft and earnest. "I'm so glad Azriel is returning today," she says, her eyes shining with sincerity. "I've missed him." A pang of jealousy and irritation shoots through you at her words, catching you off guard. You quickly brush it off as simple irritation, unwilling to acknowledge the twinge of envy that lingers in the depths of your chest. Elain, oblivious to your internal turmoil, continues to speak, her words pulling you back into the conversation. "And I've missed you too," she adds, her voice filled with warmth and affection.

You nod, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I missed you too." But inside, you can't help but feel a twinge of envy at the thought of Elain's closeness with Azriel. Before the awkwardness can settle in, however, Elain changes the subject, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she again talks about the new plants she's planted in the gardens of the Riverhouse.

"That reminds me," you say suddenly, a spark of delight igniting within you. Your eyes sparkle as you remember the gift you brought back for Elain, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a small packet of seeds. "I found these at a market stall on the continent and thought of you. They're seeds for a flower called... um...“ you stumble over the name for a moment before recalling it. "They're seeds for a flower called Moonlight Blossoms. I thought they might be a nice addition to your garden."

Elain's eyes widen with delight as she takes the seeds from you, her expression one of pure joy. "Oh, thank you!" she exclaims, her voice filled with genuine appreciation. "I can't wait to plant these in the garden. They're going to be beautiful."

After spending a pleasant morning and noon catching up with Feyre and Elain, you accompany Elain to the garden to see her new plants. The garden is a riot of color and fragrance, and you spend a blissful hour wandering among the flowers and chatting with her about her latest botanical discoveries. As you bid Elain farewell and make your way back inside, you realize that the day has flown by in a rush of activity. You quickly run a few last-minute errands for Starfall, picking up some supplies and making sure everything is in order for the evening's festivities.

Time seems to slip through your fingers like grains of sand as you hurry through the bustling streets of Velaris, the excitement of the day building with each passing moment. Before you know it, the sun is beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the city as evening approaches.

With a sense of urgency, you hurry back to the House of Wind, eager to get ready for the evening ahead. Mor had promised to get ready together, and you don't want to keep her waiting. As you enter your room, the blond is already there, surrounded by an array of dresses and accessories strewn across the bed. She looks up as you enter, a bright smile lighting up her face.

"Hey there, gorgeous!" she greets you, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Are you ready to get glam for Starfall?" You return her smile, feeling a rush of anticipation at the thought of the evening ahead. "Absolutely," you reply, crossing the room to join her. "I can't wait to see what you've picked out." Mor gestures to the dresses laid out on the bed. "I've narrowed it down to a few options," she says, a mischievous grin playing at her lips. "But I think I already know which one I'm going to choose." You chuckle, knowing that Mor always has a flair for dramatics when it comes to dressing up. "Well, let's see them then," you tease, eager to get started.

Together, you sift through the dresses, examining each one carefully and discussing their merits and drawbacks. There are dresses of every color and style, from sleek and elegant to bold and daring. Finally, Mor settles on a stunning gown in deep maroon red, its flowing skirts and intricate beading catching the light as she holds it up.

"This is the one," she declares, a satisfied smile gracing her features. "What do you think?" You nod in agreement, admiring the dress's beauty. "It's perfect," you reply. "You're going to look absolutely stunning." Mor beams at your praise, clearly pleased with her selection. "Thanks, love," she says, reaching out to give you a quick hug. "Now, let's get you sorted out. I have a feeling you're going to steal the show tonight."

As you slip into the dress that you had bought the day before, a soft sigh escapes your lips, the sensation of the fabric against your skin sending a shiver of delight down your spine. The deep midnight blue hue wraps around you like a lover's embrace, casting an delicate glow that seems to illuminate the room. The neckline plunges low, offering a tantalizing glimpse of your cleavage. With each movement, the dress seems to come alive. Mor's eyes widen in admiration as she takes in your appearance. "Wow," she breathes, her voice filled with genuine awe. "You look absolutely stunning."

A soft smile graces your lips as you meet her gaze "Thank you, Mor," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't have found this without your help." She beams at your words, her pride evident in the curve of her lips. "It was my pleasure," she replies, her tone warm and sincere. "But really, the dress suits you perfectly. I almost forgot how it looked on you overnight."

Shortly after she also put on her dress, Mor expertly braids your hair, her nimble fingers weaving intricate patterns, you can't help but admire her skill. With each twist and turn, your hair transforms into a work of art, cascading down your back in elegant waves. You close your eyes, savoring the sensation of her touch, the gentle tugs and pulls lulling you into a state of relaxation. "Your hair is like silk," Mor remarks, her voice filled with admiration. "It's going to look stunning tonight." Once your hair is styled to perfection, Mor moves on to makeup, applying each layer with precision. The dark, alluring makeup enhances your features, accentuating your eyes and highlighting your cheekbones.

Whilst the blond puts the finishing touches on your makeup, you take a moment to admire your reflection. The sultry gaze staring back at you sends a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins, the promise of the evening ahead hanging in the air. "Ready to turn heads?" Mor asks, a playful smirk gracing her lips. "Absolutely," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Let's make tonight unforgettable."

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As you and Mor descend the grand staircase, the sounds of laughter and music fill the air, signaling the start of the evening's festivities. The House of Wind is alive with energy, the vibrant atmosphere drawing you in as you make your way through the bustling crowd. Mor heads straight for the wine table, her graceful movements drawing the attention of those around her. She expertly pours two glasses, handing one to you with a knowing smile. "To a night to remember," she says, raising her glass in a toast. You clink your glass against hers, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "To a night to remember," you echo, taking a sip of the rich, velvety wine.

While mingling with the other guests, you can't help but notice the admiring glances and whispered compliments that follow you wherever you go. Cassian whistles at your appearance, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he offers a playful wink. Even Amren, usually reserved and stoic, can't help but be impressed. "Not bad, girl" she remarks in her typical deadpan tone, her lips quirking up in a rare smile. "You look good." While chatting with Cassian, his easy grin and infectious laughter filling the air, you can't help but feel at ease in his presence. He regales you with stories of past Starfall celebrations, each one more outrageous than the last, and you find yourself laughing along with him, caught up in the magic of the moment and the memories.

Amren stands beside him, her sharp gaze surveying the crowd with a mix of curiosity and amusement. She interjects with the occasional dry comment or witty observation, adding her own unique perspective to the conversation. Cassian nudges you playfully, a naughty glint in his eyes. "So, have you seen Az around yet?" he asks, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You roll your eyes at his question, knowing full well where he's going with this. "Not yet," you reply with a smirk. "But I'm sure he'll make quite the entrance when he does," you add, your tone dripping with playful sarcasm. Cassian chuckles, his grin widening as he leans in conspiratorially. "You know, I heard he's been practicing his dramatic entrances," he whispers, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Amren, who had been silently observing the exchange, scoffs in amusement. "Practicing? Please, Azriel was born with dramatic flair," she interjects, her voice dry as ever. You can't help but laugh at Amren's remark, nodding in agreement. "True," you concede, unable to deny the truth in her words. Cassian's grin widens, mischief dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer. "You know, Y/N, if you keep talking about Az like this, people might start to think you have a crush on him," he teases, his tone light but teasing. Mor joins in on the teasing, a playful smirk on her lips. "Oh, come on, Cass," she chimes in, "we all know Y/N's got it bad for Az. I mean, who wouldn't? He's mysterious, brooding, and let's not forget those dreamy eyes."

You roll your eyes at their teasing, but heat creeps up your neck nonetheless. "You two are insufferable," you mutter, trying to play it off coolly despite the warmth you can feel in your chest.

They share a knowing look, their grins widening. "Oh, don't be shy, Y/N," Cassian says with a wink, "we all see the way you light up whenever Az is around."

You sigh in mock exasperation, knowing there's no escaping this. "Fine, you caught me," you admit with a chuckle, "but can we please focus on something other than my nonexistent love life for once?" Mor and Cassian exchange a glance before bursting into laughter.

With an exaggerated sigh, you down the rest of your wine in one swift motion, the cool liquid soothing the annoyance bubbling within you. Setting the empty glass down, you grab another from the nearby tray, filling it to the brim with wine. Cassian and Mor exchange amused glances as they watch your reaction, but you pay them no mind, determined to drown out their taunting with copious amounts of alcohol.

As the night wears on, the rhythm of the music pulls you onto the dance floor, the enchanting melodies winding their way through the air and into your soul. Lost in the music, you move with grace and elegance, allowing the melodies to guide your every step. The lights overhead cast a warm glow on the dance floor, illuminating the faces of those around you as they sway to the music. Couples twirl and spin, lost in their own worlds of love and passion, while laughter and joy fill the air. You watch as Nesta and Cassian sweep over the dancefloor together, having the crowd watch in awe.

With each passing moment, your gaze darts from one corner of the room to the next, hoping to catch sight of him. Your heart beats faster with every shadow that moves, every figure that passes by, as you search for the one person who has occupied your thoughts all evening.

Dancing with an attractive Fae male, his presence envelops you, his hand warm against the small of your back as you sway to the soft, slow tunes. Despite your initial reluctance when he asked you to dance with him, you find yourself enjoying his company, lost in the rhythm of the music and the warmth of his gaze. His blond hair were neatly combed, his bright green eyes gentle and kind as they take in your facial features.

But as his hand begins to wander over your scarred skin, trailing dangerously close to where the fabric of your dress starts again, a shiver runs down your spine. The heat of his touch sends a jolt through you, igniting a familiar sensation. Just as you feel yourself becoming lost in the moment, a sudden shift in the air catches your attention. Without even turning around, you know he's here. As the music continues to play, you can sense him drawing closer, his presence casting a spell over you that leaves you spellbound and breathless. Just as you're about to step away, you sense a familiar presence behind you. The scent of cedar fills your senses, and you turn to find Azriel standing there, his tall frame looming over you.

Before you can even process his presence, he reaches out, gently touching your arm. "May I cut in?" he asks, his voice soft yet commanding. You meet his gaze, the intensity in his eyes sending a shiver down your spine. "Of course," you reply, unable to tear your eyes away from him. As the Fae male steps back, Azriel takes his place, his hand finding yours as he pulls you close. The music shifts to a slower, more intimate melody, and you find yourself swept up in the moment. "It's been too long," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the music. Azriel's gaze softens, his fingers tracing light patterns on your back. "I've missed you," he admits, his voice low and filled with emotion. A surge of warmth washes over you at his words, and you find yourself drawn closer to him. "I've missed you too," you confess, your heart racing in your chest. As you continue to dance, the tension between you and Azriel is palpable, crackling in the air like electricity. His hand lingers on your waist, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"I can't believe you're finally back," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the music. You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. "I can't believe it either," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "It feels like it's been an eternity." Azriel's eyes soften, a hint of sadness flickering in their depths. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to greet you when you returned," he says, his voice filled with regret. "I wanted to be the first one to welcome you home."

You reach up, gently touching his cheek. "It's okay," you assure him, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "I know you had your duties to attend to." A faint smile plays at the corners of Azriel's lips then, and he leans into your touch. How he had missed it to feel your gentle reassuring touch. "Still, I wish I could have been here for you," he murmurs, his voice deep and husky. As the song comes to an end, you stare at each other. Reluctantly, Azriel releases your hand, his touch lingering for a moment longer before he takes a step back. The music fades into the background, drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

For a moment, the two of you simply stand there, lost in each other's gaze, the world around you fading away until there's nothing left but the space between you. Then, with a soft smile, Azriel breaks the silence. "Would you like to take a walk?" he asks, his voice gentle and inviting.

You nod, a warm feeling spreading through you at the prospect of spending more time with him. "I'd like that," you reply, returning his smile. Together, you slip away from the dance floor, the night air cool against your skin as you step out onto the balcony. The city sprawls out before you, its lights twinkling in the darkness like a sea of stars.

Feeling his gaze upon you, you can't help but shift slightly under his scrutiny, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you realize just how closely he's examining you. You bite your lip nervously, suddenly hyper-aware of every curve and contour of your body that's on display in the dress. As Azriel's eyes linger on your figure, you can't help but notice the way his gaze seems to heat up, his breath catching in his throat. A thrill shoots through you at the intensity of his stare, igniting a fire in the pit of your stomach.

For a moment, neither of you says anything, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. Then, with a slight cough to clear his throat, Azriel tears his gaze away from you, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice husky with emotion. "I didn't mean to stare." You shake your head, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. "It's okay," you reply softly. "I... I don't mind."

You reach out tentatively, your hand finding his arm in a comforting gesture. "Azriel," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, "there's something I've been wanting to tell you." He turns to face you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. "What is it?" he asks, concern lacing his every word. You take a deep breath, summoning all your courage. “I-“  Before you can finish your sentence, the door to the balcony swings open, and Feyre steps out, her eyes widening in surprise when she sees the two of you standing there together.

"Oh, sorry," she stammers, quickly averting her gaze. "I didn't mean to interrupt." Azriel clears his throat, stepping back slightly to give Feyre some space. "It's alright," he says, his voice a little strained. "We were just... talking." she nods, though there's a knowing glint in her eyes as she looks between the two of you. "Right, well, I'll leave you two to it then," she says, retreating back inside. You and Azriel exchange a glance, a silent understanding passing between you. It seems that fate has other plans for your conversation, at least for now.

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When Azriel winnowed into Rhys's study earlier that day, he was greeted by the familiar sight of his brother sitting behind the desk, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Rhys's gaze meets his, and Azriel's eyes widen as the scent of you fills his senses, sending a jolt of anticipation coursing through him. It wasn’t dull and faded, not like the pillows in your bedroom. No, you had to have been in this room today. Rhys raises an eyebrow at his brother’s dumbfounded face, his smirk growing more pronounced. "Took you long enough to notice," he says, amusement lacing his tone.

Azriel's lips twitch into a half-smile as he strides further into the room, his movements fluid and graceful. "I was preoccupied," he replies, his voice gruff. "But I'm here now." Rhys chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "I can see that," he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "So, how was your mission?" Azriel takes a moment to compose himself, his mind still reeling from the unexpected encounter with your scent. "Successful," he replies, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him. His resolve snapped. "But I'll fill you in on the details later. Right now, I have other matters to attend to."

Rhys arches an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Of course," he says, his tone teasing. "Wouldn't want to keep her waiting, would you?" Azriel's cheeks flush slightly at his brother's teasing remark, but he maintains his composure. "No," he says, his voice tinged with determination. "I wouldn't."

As Azriel takes flight for the House of Wind, his mind races with a whirlwind of emotions. Excitement courses through his veins, an unexpected thrill at the thought of seeing you again after nine long months apart. He hadn't dared to hope that you would be back, hadn't allowed himself to entertain the possibility of your return. And yet, here you were, your presence filling him with a sense of longing he just started to realize he'd been harboring.

The memory of your scent lingers in his mind, haunting him with its intoxicating sweetness. It's a scent he knows all too well, one that has the power to drive him to madness with desire. Even now, as he flies through the night sky, he can't shake the memory of you, the way your scent wraps around him like a warm embrace. Only yesterday had he thought about that exact smell while fucking his hand wishing it was yours instead.

Cursing himself for his wayward thoughts, Azriel frowns, attempting to push aside the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to consume him.

As Azriel lands gracefully on the balcony of the House of Wind, he braces himself  for their reunion. He had just made his way here in record time, flying like his life depended on it. His heart pounds in his chest, the anticipation of seeing you again after so long almost too much to bear. With each step he takes, his eyes scan the crowded room, searching for your familiar form amidst the mass of guests.

And then he sees you.

His breath catches in his throat as he takes you in, his brain short-circuiting at the sight of you. You’re wearing a dress, and it clings to you like a second skin, accentuating every curve and contour of your body. His gaze lingers on the scars that trail across your back, a witness to the battles you had fought and the strength you possess. But it's not just your appearance that captivates him. It's the way you move, the grace and confidence with which you carry yourself, as if you own the very air around you. And you do, completely oblivious to the hungry and captivated stares you gain, turning heads everywhere you appear. Then his attention finally shifts to the Fae dancing with you, his hand lingering dangerously close to your exposed skin, and a surge of possessiveness courses through him. You’re wearing his colors, he realizes with a jolt, a flicker of irritation igniting within him at the thought of someone else daring to touch what belongs to him. A growl rumbles in Azriel's chest, low and threatening, as the surge of jealousy within him reaches a fever pitch. He takes a step forward, hazel eyes blazing with anger, his wings flaring out instinctively behind him.

But before he can make his move, Mor appears at his side, a knowing smirk on her lips as she nudges him playfully. "Easy there, big guy," she says, her voice low and playful. "No need to start a brawl on Starfall."

Azriel grits his teeth, torn between his desire to protect what's his and the knowledge that Mor is right. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to reign in his emotions. While Azriel briefly exchanges pleasantries with Mor, his mind is consumed by thoughts of you. He can hardly focus on their conversation, his attention drawn inexorably back to where you stand across the room. He can feel his Illyrian instincts surging to the forefront, urging him to claim what's rightfully his. Shadowy tendrils dance around him frantically, pushing, pulling, as if they too wanted him to whisk you away from the other male’s embrace.

Finally having had enough, he excuses himself from Mor's company. Azriel prowls across the room with purposeful strides. His presence alone is enough to send a ripple of unease through the crowd, his menacing aura palpable as he approaches. When he reaches your side, the Fae male dancing with you seems to shrink back in fear, intimidated by the intensity of Azriel's gaze. But Azriel pays him no mind, his attention wholly consumed by you.

His shadows whispering words of possession and desire in his ears, chanting “Beautiful, beautiful” over and over. ”Ours, ours” Azriel can hardly contain the primal urges that surge within him. All he can think about is claiming you, marking you as his own for all the world to see. And as he draws closer, the air crackling with anticipation, he knows that he won't be satisfied until you’re in his arms, where you belong. He just wants to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck. Suppressing a groan, he twirls you around, his hands easily finding their way onto your hips, softly squeezing them while leading the dance.

When the song came to an end, he felt like he was stood in the summer courts afternoon sun again. He needed some fresh air, some more quietness, and he selfishly wanted to be the sole bearer of your company.

By the Cauldron, as you made your way onto the balcony, him trailing behind you a few steps, he silently swore under his breath. Suddenly he was questioning his decision to be alone with you. Again, he asked himself why. Why have the last nine months been such a torture? Why did it feel like there was no oxygen left in his lungs when you and Mor had winnowed away and departed for your mission? And only now could he breathe again, truly breathe. And with every inhale, the scent of sweet lilies and freshly fallen rain assaulted his senses, clawing into the very essence of his being.

Only as you shifted on your feet slightly did he notice that he was straight up staring at you. Shit. As a soft blush made its way onto your cheeks then, he wanted to melt. Did you like the way he looked at you? Had the past nine months felt as maddening for you as they had felt for him? Questions upon questions infiltrated his mind as you looked upon Velaris together. And when you spoke again, wanting, no, needing to tell him something, he felt his stomach drop. Had you found someone on the continent?

When Feyre interrupted you mid-sentence solely by appearing, he didn’t know if he should curse or thank her for the disturbance. But the way your brows furrowed and how the light in your eyes ebbed out a little bit, made him feel a pang in his chest.

He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the sudden tension that had settled between you. And as Feyre excused herself again, he spoke up. "What were you saying?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He needed to know, needed to hear your words, even if they shattered his heart into a million pieces. You hesitated for a moment, the words caught in your throat as you searched for an excuse, anything to deflect from the truth. "It's nothing," you replied, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Just... something I've been thinking about lately. But it's not important." A lie.

He studied your expression, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features before he masked it with a small smile of his own. "Alright," he murmured, though he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to your words than you were letting on. Turning back to Azriel, you couldn't help but notice the way the moonlight danced across his features, casting a soft glow around him that made your heart flutter again.

"You know," he began, breaking the comfortable silence between you, "I never expected to find you here tonight. It's... a pleasant surprise."

You chuckled softly, the sound carrying on the gentle breeze. "Well, it's not every day that we get to celebrate Starfall together," you replied, a hint of warmth in your voice. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." There was hidden meaning in your words that he didn’t fail to miss.

His eyes softened at your words, a silent understanding passing between you. "I'm glad you're here," he murmured, his gaze never leaving yours. "It wouldn't be the same without you."

Wearing a tender smile, Azriel reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours. "You look beautiful tonight," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. A soft blush crept onto your cheeks at his compliment, and you couldn't help but return his smile. "Thank you," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity. "You don't look too bad yourself."

He chuckled softly, the sound like music to your ears. "High praise coming from you," he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement. You laughed, a light and carefree sound that echoed in the night air. "Well, I do have good taste," you quipped, nudging him playfully.

With trembling hands, you reached out to touch him, your fingers grazing lightly against his cheek as you traced the contours of his face. His eyes fluttered closed at your touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he leaned into your caress. Every nerve in his body seemed to come alive at your gentle caress, his senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating sensation of your touch. With a shaky breath, he opened his eyes, meeting your gaze with a depth of emotion that words could not express. In that moment, he felt as though he could drown in the ocean of your eyes.

With a tender yet sure touch, Azriel pulled you into his embrace, his arms enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and safety. The scent of cedar and winter air surrounded you, his presence filling every corner of your senses. Azriel can't help himself, his urge to feel you pressed against him. He had missed you too much, and the way you just looked at him had him questioning why the hell he waited so long to do this. His hazel eyes glint as he lets them roam over your face, examining the gentle curve of your full lips, dipping down to follow the line of revealed skin, ending where your breasts are pressed firmly to his chest. The intensity of his stare sends shivers down your spine, your skin tingling with a delicious combination of desire and longing.

With each passing moment, the space between you seems to shrink, until there is barely a breath of air separating your bodies. You can feel the heat emanating from him, warming you from the inside out. His eyes, darkened with lust, hold you captive, their intensity rendering you speechless. You can't help but shiver under his gaze, your entire being yearning for the touch of his lips against yours.

As he leans in closer, his brows furrowed in concentration, you can't help but tremble under his touch. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, a subconscious gesture. You feel the gentle pressure of his body against yours, his warmth seeping into your skin as he presses you back against the railing. Unable to contain the rush of emotions coursing through you, a soft whimper escapes your lips. "Azriel." His name leaves you sounding more like a soft whine than anything else. He inhales sharply, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath as he savors the way his name rolls off your tongue. "say it again." he pleads, his voice husky with longing, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. "Azriel..." You breathe out again. A sinful moan escapes his lips at the sound of his name spoken by you, his head bowing forward as he presses his forehead against yours. Your hands claw at his chest, fisting his shirt.

“Can I kiss you?” Azriel’s voice sounds strained as he asks you. All you can manage is a whimpered “Please.” And that’s all he needs, as if your words just shattered his restraint, he surges forward, capturing your lips with his own. You melt into each other’s touch, lips slanted over another, one of Azriel’s marred hands comes up to cup one of your cheeks, tilting your head back slightly to deepen the kiss. You press into him more, gasping when you feel a muscled thigh lodged between your legs, the friction causing you to shake slightly. Azriel swipes his tongue over your bottom lip then, venturing further as you gasp, tasting you. Both of you, completely tangled into each other, breathe heavily when you part. Only then do you realize that the stars had begun their journey, thousands upon thousands of bright streaks flashing through the sky.

The sparkling light of the falling stars reflected in Azriel’s eyes, making them shine even brighter than they already were. You followed his gaze as you saw his orbs wander to look behind you. The night sky shone with glittering starlight, painting Velaris in a colorful bright hue. In complete and utter awe, you shift slightly, watching the stars make their way to whatever destination. “Breathtaking.” Azriel mumbles huskily and you can’t help but agree. When you turn to face him again, you realize that he was still looking at you. A soft blush makes its way onto your already flushed face.

Azriel was a warrior, the Night Court’s Spymaster and Shadowsinger, he had fought plenty of battles before, always coming out on top and alive. But as he stared at you then, his heart rapidly beating in his chest, he found himself on his knees for the first time, loosing his restraint, loosing his composure. Because when he looked at you then, face bathed in the soft lights of the falling stars, skin flushed and lips swollen, it snapped. And when it did, everything made sense.

His eyes were wide and filled with something you couldn’t quite place. As you feel his lips crashing against yours once more, any words you might have spoken are lost in the fervor of the moment. The intensity of the kiss leaves you breathless, your mind swirling with a heady mixture of desire and adoration.

When you finally break apart, your chests heaving with the effort of controlling your racing hearts, you find yourself lost in the depths of his wide, expressive eyes. There's something in his gaze that speaks volumes, something you can't quite put into words but can feel deep within your soul. "Your face is a work of art," you whisper, the alcohol lending a soft haze to your words. Excitement clouding your head, the compliment spills from your lips. Azriel's features, sharp and defined, seem to glow with an ethereal light in the dimness of the night. His hazel eyes, like pools of molten gold, capture your gaze, drawing you in.

"Yeah?" he hums in response, his hands finding their way to the back of your thighs, pulling you closer to him. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume every inch of your being. And when he inhales deeply, the scent of your Arousal hits him with full force and he snarls lowly. "Your legs should frame it then,"

Your breath hitches at his words, eyes widening at what he suggests. Speechless you try to regain your composure. Then, with a coy smile, you lean in closer to him, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, "Careful, Azriel. You're playing with fire." The teasing tone in your voice betrays the longing that simmers beneath the surface, aching to be unleashed.

As the flames of desire engulf you both, Azriel's lips part in a husky whisper, his voice dripping with primal need. "I don't mind getting burned," he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck. With a trembling hand, you reach up to cup his cheek, your touch gentle yet filled with an intensity that mirrors the blaze in his eyes. "Then let us burn together," you whisper.

In a raw display of desire, Azriel's demeanor shifts, his jaw clenched with a fierce determination as he gazes at you with narrowed eyes filled with unbridled hunger. Without a word, he lifts you effortlessly into his arms, his hands roaming possessively over your body as he pulls you close. With a soft gasp, you wrap your legs around his hips, feeling the heat of his body against yours as you press closer together. The sensation of his hands wandering to your ass, squeezing firmly, sends a shiver of anticipation coursing through you.

In the blink of an eye, Azriel winnows you away. The world blurs around you, the sensation of movement disorienting yet thrilling. Before you can fully comprehend the transition, you find yourselves standing in the intimate sanctuary of his bedroom. Around you, the air is charged with anticipation, heavy with the promise of what is to come. Azriel's gaze meets yours, smoldering with desire as he sets you down gently on the bed, his hands still lingering on your hips. And as he looks at you then, looking deep into your eyes to search for any hesitation or regret on your part, you speak.

“Claim me.” Your voice is confident and soft. “I’m yours, Mate.”

With a primal growl, Azriel's restraint shatters, consumed by the raw, unbridled desire coursing through his veins. He leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, a fierce hunger driving his movements. In that moment, there is no holding back, no inhibitions—only the primal instinct to claim you as his own.

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I Can't believe it!! What do you guys think? Let's just say Part 3 will be very steamy. I truly hope you enjoyed reading this.

Tag-list:

@impossibelle @paleidiot @tele86 @namelesssaviour @sstrohma @that-one-little-soybean @mybestfriendmademe @durgenyx @shinyghosteclipse @katherinejess

[itsphoenix0724]

All Things Vile (Eris x Reader)

Summary: A recon mission to the Autumn Court gets more heated than you intended. They say Autumn males fuck like they have fire in their veins-you guess you're about to find out.

Warnings: ROUGH SMUT (this is pure filth and I'm not sorry), kind of dark, oral (m!receiving) choking, bondage

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: It's been a while since I wrote for him, been a while since I wrote in general since I'm adjusting back into my school life. Chapter 3 of MMOTI is drafted and will hopefully be released soon! But anyway here's a smutty Eris fic for all of you <3

The Autumn Court was ablaze in moonlit revelry. The scent of spiced cider and ale consumed the grove along with the smell of the blazing campfire. Fog weaved in and out of the shadow-drenched woods, urging the partygoers to follow its trail into the darkness. You could make out bodies against trees, males and females losing themselves in one another, as you jumped silently along the oak’s branches. It was a simple mission; Get in and get out, that’s what Rhys had said, and that’s what you fully intended on doing. Cloaked in darkness, mask pulled up to hide everything but your eyes, you found your target. 

A drunken blush stained his pale cheeks, and the blood-red silk shirt he wore was unbuttoned so obscenely low you could see the dappling of freckles along his chest in the firelight. His auburn hair was unruly; the waves held down only by the circlet of gold leaves that marked him as the firstborn son of Autumn. His lips were stained from the wine he was sipping and his eyes had taken on a seductive half-lid as he somehow fixed his burning gaze straight onto you. 

Fuck, Rhys was going to kill you. 

Eris stood from his chair in one smooth motion, prowling towards your spot hidden in the woods like a mountain cat, amber eyes burning. You jump down from your tree, weaving through the branches like smoke to try to lose the lordling who’s hot on your tail. Nothing but the sound of your labored breathing and the sounds of footfalls echo through the dark wood. You just need to get to the border, Eris won’t have the gall to cross after you. You can see the green grass of Spring, the pastel pink of the cherry blossoms grotesquely clashing with the russet hues of the forest that currently surrounds you.

You can almost smell the sickly sweet air when a hand encircles your wrist like a hot brand.

The world tips and falls, the grass slipping out from under your feet as you’re dropped into a room, landing on all fours against a hardwood floor. Bands of fire wrap around your wrists and ankles, pinning you to the ground, not burning but holding you there. The tell-tale wave of nausea that means you’ve been winnowed somewhere quickly overwhelms you as you try not to heave onto the plush burgundy rug infront of you.

Eris has taken you to his room at Fir Hall, his private estate away from his life wrapped in court politics, you’re familiar with the home after many spy missions here. Your eyes fix on the Autumn Prince with a burning ferocity, and he does nothing but glare back down at you from where he looms above you.

“Well, well what has fallen into my trap,” He fixes you with a wolfish smile as he pulls down your mask, and your lips peel back into a snarl. “Hello Sweetheart,” he purrs as he tucks a loose hair behind your ears. “I’ve missed you, it’s very nice to see you again.” He tries to run a thumb over your bottom lip, but you snap your teeth in his direction like a feral animal and he wisely pulls his hand away. 

“Bite me,” you growl out as Eris crouches down until he’s at eye level with you. A hound cornering a wild fox, it seemed the hunter had won tonight as he lets out a laugh that leaves a burning caress down your spine. 

“Oh, I intend to.” He promises, stroking his hand along the back of your hair, pulling out the hair tie, and letting it fall around your face. “Now will you mind your manners?” He raises a copper brow, eyes dancing with amusement. The bond buried deep in your chest tries to wiggle free of its restraints, begging you to let it play with the other half of your soul. 

“Never,” you vow to him even as the mischief in his eyes turns to longing. This is torture denying yourself of him. 

But how could you not? 

Beron is still High Lord, if you were to tie yourself to him you would have to abide by his rules. You would rather claw your own eyes out. And if your family ever found out, if Mor ever found out, the shame and guilt would burn more than the roaring fire in the hearth. 

So you have this, you take every mission you can to Autumn and collect all the broken pieces and scraps that you can get. This is what you will allow yourself.

“I thought that would be the case,” Eris gets up and languidly strolls away from you, plucking the bottle of bourbon from the cabinet and pouring himself a drink. You watch with adept interest as his ring-clad fingers tighten around the crystalline glass, he strolls over to his bookshelf and plucks a well-loved novel off the dark shelf. 

Then the bastard settles himself into one of the plush armchairs and starts to fucking read. He ignores you as though you’re nothing more than a potted plant in the corner, he doesn’t even so much as glance at you, fully enraptured in his novel. A few minutes pass when you clear your throat. Eris deigns to look bored as he lazily turns his head toward you. 

“Yes?” He asks, propping the book against one knee and taking another sip of his whiskey. Your eyes track the movement of his throat involuntarily. 

“Aren’t you going to do something?” You push, urging him with your eyes as you lift your head through the curtain of your hair. You hope your gaze communicates everything you cannot bring yourself to voice, fearing your body will refuse to allow you air if you try. 

I love you, please don’t ignore me, I need you, play with me

He chuckles a dark sound and picks up his book again, pointedly flicking a page as the rubies on his hands glint in the firelight. 

“I’m not in the business of playing with unwilling toys,” Eris supplies, purposely staring at the fire instead of you. “Perhaps I should call Rhysand to collect you and tell him I don’t appreciate being spied on. Perhaps, he will never send you back here.” His brows scrunch in frustration but you both know that the threat is empty. It seems he is tired of your games. 

“What do you want?” You barely grind out, still refusing to relent to the signing inside your soul. “Do you want me to beg? Is that it? Princely bastard.” You practically spit, and faster than the blink of an eye Eris is in front of you, fisting your hair in one hand and tilting your chin to meet his smoldering gaze. 

“Are you ashamed of me?” He questions, and you can see the vulnerability dancing in his eyes. You shake your head as the fire binding your wrists recedes and you move into a more comfortable kneeling position, hands now bound in front of you. He soothes his hand along your cheek again as your brows knit together. You thought that the two of you had a kind of understanding. You had no idea where this was coming from. “I tire of this ruse, my love.” If Eris notices the mournful look in your eyes he says nothing. He strokes a warm hand through your hair, admiring your eyes in the firelight. “Why don’t you show me how much you missed me huh?” The wolfish grin is back and you hum your agreement as he runs his thumb along your bottom lip again, pleased at your cooperation as he slides his finger into your mouth. He thrusts it into your mouth and as you teasingly run your tongue over the pad he lets out a moan that shoots straight to your core. 

He undoes the belt at his waist, pulling his cock out with his hand, and your mouth waters at the sheer size of him. 

“I’m going to fuck your mouth now,” he rumbles, pure authority and power radiating off of him. A glimpse at the future ruler he will become one day. You nod your enthusiastic consent as he grips the back of your head and thrusts into your mouth at a merciless pace. Your head empties as he hits the back of your throat, the hand cupping the back of your hair surprisingly gentle compared to the way he was brutalizing your mouth. “That’s a good girl, take me down your throat.” It spills out of his mouth like he can’t even control it as your eyes roll back in your head at his praise. Eris pushes your mouth all the way down to the base of his dick and holds you there for a few seconds as your nose connects with his pelvic bone. He’s relentless as he uses you for his pleasure and you think that he might bruise your vocal cords. 

He spills down your throat as your binds dissolve into nothing, leaving behind a warm tingling sensation where the fire licked at your limbs. 

You swallow what he gave you, opening your mouth in emphasis as whiskey eyes blow wide with lust. You’re drenched at the sight of his cock already stiffening again. He walks to the mountainous bed in front of you, making himself comfortable against the pillows. 

“Come here pet.” He growls fisting his cock in his hand and crooking his fingers with the other. You start to rise to your legs on sore knees, but you freeze when Eris tuts–holding his hand out to stop you. “No. I want you to crawl to me.” The order wraps around you like warm silk, voice sliding against your bones. You lower yourself back down to the floor, humiliation burning hot on your cheeks as you sway your hips in what you hope to be enticing. He stops you quickly and you look up at him from under fluttering lashes. “Strip. Slowly.” Your face burns even hotter and Eris can’t take his eyes off you as you rise, slowly undoing every single buckle on your leathers and letting them fall to the floor, leaving you entirely exposed to him before climbing onto the bed. His body is so warm against your skin as he draws your mouth to his, the burning taste of cinnamon whiskey floods your mouth. He dominates you even here, claiming you as his tongue wrestles with yours. The moan that slips out of you comes out scratchy from the abuse of your throat, and in a flash, you’re below him as he grinds his hips into yours. 

“Eris,” you whimper as his cock brushes against your folds. You need him to fill you to the brim, wanting him as close as possible. He shushes you gently as he bites at your pulse point, the only goal in his mind is to claim as he sucks dark marks into your neck. 

You’ll surely be wearing only turtle necks for a few weeks after this. 

His warm hands skate down your body, pulling and prodding at your sensitive nipples, letting out a dark chuckle as you whine at his ministrations. Eris mocks your moans as he rubs a finger at your center, rolling the sensitive bundle of nerves between his fingers. Finally, he slips a finger inside of you rubbing at the spot that makes you see stars. He knows exactly where to touch to get you to dissolve, his beautiful mate bending to him like water running through his fingertips. That ring-clad hand curls around your throat, cold metal contrasting with his warm hands, and you keen as the pleasant dizzy feeling takes over your whole body. 

That feeling combined with the addition of another finger in your core sends you hurtling through gold-flecked oblivion.

He pulls his fingers out of you, sucking them into his mouth and moaning as he relishes the taste of you on his tongue. Staring down at your shaking form with smugness in his eyes as he circles the skin of your inner thigh, enjoying the way the muscles quiver under his touch. Eris sinks himself into you, inch by tortuous inch until you can’t tell where your body ends and he begins. He strokes slowly and deliberately, bruising you with his intensity as your vision goes white with searing pleasure every time he moves his hips.

You want him to leave his imprint everywhere on your body, that unanswered bond begging you to never leave this bed again. Eris must feel it too, that golden thread wrapping around his heart begging him to keep you, to never let another male so much as look at you. That makes something ugly twist in his chest and he almost snarls at even the thought of another male near you as his instincts take over and he draws your legs over his shoulders to hit an even deeper part inside of you. Your walls are clenching and fluttering around him as his pace turns ravenous, all you can do is try to hold on as your nails scrape jagged lines down his back. Eris scrapes his teeth over your neck, then he moves down to your nipple biting down as you scream his name before giving the other one equal attention. 

“Who do you belong to pet?” He murmurs in your ear in time with a thrust that's so deep your eyes roll back in your head. “Who’s the only one that can make you feel like this?” You can barely give him anything but a whimper as he devastates your body, pinching your clit in a way that elicits a pleasure-soaked sob. “Scream it for me,” he punctuates it with a slap against the apex of your thighs. 

“Yours Eris, I’m all yours!” You scream as you orgasm, tears running down your flushed cheeks, Eris follows soon after you spilling himself deep inside of you.

He pulls out, disappears into the bathroom, and returns with a clean rag to wipe up the mess he made between your thighs. He collapses onto the mattress next to you and pulls you to his chest, warming his hands with his power as he rubs slow circles into the small of your back. You look up at him and he’s taken aback at the vulnerability in your eyes. “Eris I-” you choke, unable to force the words you so desperately want to say past your lips. He shushes you with a kiss against your forehead. 

“I know,” he mutters into your hairline “I know.” You hold him tighter, blinking back tears as you lock the bond back down in its obsidian shackles,“I’ll wait an eternity for you.” It’s the last thing you hear before closing your eyes as you let him soothe you to sleep.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I trust everything went well?” Rhys asks, raising a dark brow at your form where you stand across from his desk. You subconsciously pull the dark turtleneck further up, the deep purple marks burning like a brand. You scrubbed yourself raw as soon as you winnowed yourself to your apartment, and you’re praying to the Mother that Rhys doesn’t even catch a whiff of Eris or the frankly copious amounts of sex. The thought of Eris enjoying it this morning, pressing his nose against the crook of your neck to make sure it really stuck, before crawling his way down your body to settle in between your thighs makes you triple-check that the steel of your mental shields was still in place.

“Nothing to report,” You rasp, voice destroyed after last night's events. The attempts to clear your throat are doing nothing to help you

“Are you alright?” Rhys questions, wringing his hands together on his desk as he shoots a concerned look. 

“Must just be a chill I caught in Autumn, those woods get cold at night.” You supply and he hums his agreement. 

“Well go rest, you’ve earned it. Perhaps you should see Madja for something to soothe your throat.” Rhys says and you nod your agreement, taking the cue for your dismissal. You wait until his office door clicks shut behind you to let out your sigh of relief, thinking of nothing but soft sheets and warm hands. 

You can only hope you get another mission there soon.

[mcuamerica]

Welcome Home | Azriel x Fem!Reader

Featuring: Cassian x Reader (platonic)

Summary: After seeing how fun you have with Cassian, Azriel decides to test out a form of punishment... Requested by anon here.

Warnings: 18+ only, mean/possessive Azriel (because of a potion), scared by mate (?), alludes to SA, (I honestly don't know what to warn here, read the original request for context), not proofread

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

While Azriel was on a mission, you decided to spend time with your best friend and the other deadly warrior of the Inner Circle, Cassian.

You were having a fun time with him, running around with some odd game he had created. Cassian, seemingly, kept changing the rules. You popped up behind a shrub of the garden, jumping on his back. "Mr. Illyrian Warrior, sir, you cannot keep changing the rules to make yourself win." You giggled.

"Foul! No jumping on the backs of winged faeries!" He called out, trying to shake you off. You giggled even more, dropping down onto the floor.

"Cass, seriously," you scorned, crossing your arms. "Tell me the actual rules of the game so we can properly play!"

You felt like a child pouting next to her older brother, but sometimes it was all you needed to let go a little bit. Forget the wars and politics that plagued the Inner Circle of the Night Court for just half an hour and play a stupid game, which involved you chasing Cassian around the garden. To what end? He still hadn't told you.

Cassian was the first one you met from the IC. He found you in the outskirts of Velaris, shivering at the end of a very small stream. In the middle of winter. You had been thrown out of your home by your father. You were trying to make it to Velaris when you encountered an incredibly vicious male who only wanted one thing from you.

Luckily, you fought him off and ran away, but not without falling down a rocky hill and cracking your ribs. That was when Cassian found you, patrolling the forest for a few run away soldiers. You were scared by him at first, not letting him anywhere near you.

But when he lowered and tucked in his wings, crouched down to be even lower than you, you knew he wasn't going to hurt you. The kindness in his eyes spoke enough.

So you let him take you in his arms and fly you into the city, settling with Madja to take care of you. For a week he sat by your side, wanting nothing other than to make sure you were okay, after he found the male that had hurt you... and sent Rhys to deal with your family.

After that, you showed your knowledge of spell cleaving, your mother a strong female from the Day Court, and became a quick member of the Inner Circle. After years of working and getting to know each member, you quickly fell in love and mated with Azriel. Your official acceptance of the bond was just about a year ago, meaning you were still learning a lot of new and exciting ways to make your lives even richer in love.

"Cassian!" You yelled as he picked you up and set you on top of a bench, peering down at him.

"You stay there for five seconds, eyes closed, and you have to catch me somewhere in the garden." He said.

"And what do I win if I do?" You asked, eyebrows raised.

"Extra dessert?" He teased and you narrowed your eyes.

"Deal." You said, closing your eyes and counting to five.

You opened your eyes and instead found your mate, peering up at you. With a look of lust and desire on his face, but something else tugged at the bond. Was that jealousy? You couldn't tell nor did you have time to decipher it because the next thing you knew, Azriel was carrying you up to your bedroom. He didn't even take the stairs, instead winnowing up to the room. Before you were even orientated, he was setting you on the bed and immediately pinning you down.

You quickly became overwhelmed by not only the change of scenery so quickly, but the scent that leaked from your mate. And the anger in his eyes. Did you do something wrong?

You let out a squeak when Azriel trailed his hand up your loose fitting shirt, grabbing hold before tearing it in half. "Azriel! What are you doing?" You managed to say, trying to scoot back from his grasp, your breath quickening. Azriel must have been so devoured by lust, or whatever it was, that he didn't hear you. Or.. didn't care?

"You are mine, understand? No one else's." He growled. Not a sensual one that drove you crazy most of a time, but more crazed. More desperate. "And I'm going to show you exactly how much you belong to me."

Your past, with the cruel male in the forest, flashed through your mind. You begged down the bond for him to stop. You shook your head again, eyes widened when he leaned back.

You took the opportunity and scrambled away, almost tripping over your feet as you ran from the bedroom. You ran down the stairs, hearing Azriel call your name. You whimpered, looking back to see him slowly stalking towards you. You made your way back to the garden, only to run into a hard wall. No, not a hard wall, Cassian.

"(Y/N)? What's wrong?" He asked, noticing your missing shirt, the silver lining your eyes, and your quick breathing.

"He- I don't know. Cass please make him stop." You said and wrapped your arms around his waist. He quickly looked up, noticing the stalking male now seething at the sight of his mate and his brother embracing.

Cassian soothed you, pulling you behind him. "Azriel... you need to stop." He said firmly, going into the protective warrior mode. Why was Azriel acting like this?

"Get away from my mate." He growled. There it was again. That crazed tone.

Then it his him. Cassian smelled the potion on him as he closed the gap between them, meaning to knock Cassian to the ground. "Azriel, this isn't you." He said, gripping his shoulders. Azriel's eyes darkened, moving to hit Cassian again. Cassian was faster, knocking him unconscious with a quick knock to the head. He stood for a moment, making sure that Azriel was indeed not waking up before he called for Rhys to get Madja here as soon as possible. Then he turned to you.

You were still shaking, arms wrapped around yourself as you cowered against the wall. You were never like this anymore. You were strong and independent and didn't need help from any of the warriors you called your family. Not after you learned to defend yourself.

But everyone was so overwhelming, you forgot all that training. You felt like the fragile female on that river bank again.

Cassian slowly approached you, again tucking in his eyes and bowing below your eye level. "Hey," his voice was barely above a whisper, "can I take you to your room?" He asked and you quickly shook your head, not wanting to go where Azriel had taken you. "My room?" He offered and you nodded, wrapping your arms around Cassian's neck as he picked you up carefully and took you to his room. He made sure you settled down, bringing you tea and your favorite comfort snack. Once you had eaten and stopped shaking, he lulled you to sleep with some very off key humming. Nothing like Azriel normally did when nightmares awoke you. Either way, by night fall, you were tucked into what was Cassian and Nesta's bed, sound asleep. No stutter of breath or shift in movement.

Cassian walked out of the room and crossed his arms when he found Madja and Azriel in the living room.

"I didn't even know it until I drank it... it smelled normal." Azriel finished saying, his eyes clear.

Cassian stalked over to him and grabbed him by the collar. "What in the Cauldron did you do to her?" He growled.

"Cassian! Get off of him." Madja said and swatted at his arm. Cassian quickly let go of his brother, but that didn't mean he wasn't pissed. "He had a jealousy potion in his system. One that, from the sounds of it, makes mates even more possessive of their partners. And will drive them to the brink of madness if anyone even looks at their mate."

"He hurt her." Cassian seethed.

Azriel's eyes flashed with hurt. He looked like he had been through hell. Good, Cassian thought, let him rot there a little longer.

"Cass, you know I would never hurt her intentionally." He said, frowning.

"You better talk to her in the morning.. but leave her alone tonight." Cassian demanded, not even wanting to talk with his brother right now. Rhys, who had been standing in the corner this whole time, decided not to chip in. While he was close to you, he wasn't nearly as must of a friend to you as Cassian was. He knew Cass would defend you no matter what, he saw you as a little sister. And if Cassian deemed that you needed space from Azriel, your mate, right now, he was probably right.

"I will..."

You were groggy when you woke up the next morning, not recognizing the scent of your mate or the feeling of the sheets. The events from the past day came back to you and you frowned.

It was then that you realized Azriel sat next to the bed, sleeping in a chair tucked in the corner.

You tentatively sat up, knowing there had to be an explanation of what he did. He had never acted like that with you before. Even when you were trying new things in the bedroom, he was always slow and considerate.

"Azriel..." You whispered, your timid voice betraying the courage you worked up in your mind. You reached for the glass of water next to the bed, slowly drinking as Azriel shot up in the chair.

"(Y/N)... sweetheart, I am so sorry." He said, getting up to sit on the edge of the bed. You pulled back from his touch, tucking in the glass of water against your chest. "It's not an excuse, but I was under the influence of a potion. If I had known the effects, I would have gone as far away from you as possible. But it didn't kick in until I saw you with Cassian and I was so jealous of the two of you all of the sudden and-"

"Az. You're ranting." You said, a small smile coming to your lips. As soon as he mentioned the potion, you remembered the strange smell that coated his scent. It wasn't like anything you had scented on him before, and you were glad it was just a potion and you wouldn't again.

"I'm so sorry." He said again, eyes pleading you to understand him. You slowly set the glass down on the nightstand, resting your hand over one of his.

"Promise you will never do that again?" You asked quietly.

He let out a sigh of relief, his whole body relaxing. "Yes, I swear on my life I will never do what I did to you yesterday. Never again." He said and shook his head.

You brought your other hand up to cup his cheek. "Well then..." you trailed off, leaning forward. "Welcome home." You sealed the statement with a soft, sweet kiss.

A/N: Okay, hope you enjoyed! I had a hard time thinking of any reason that Azriel would intentionally harm/force himself on his mate, so hopefully this makes sense!

Main Masterlist

[we-were-beautiful]

Unraveled Ends Chapter 2

Pre chapter Shenanigans 

a/n: Sooooo long time no post but I'm here now and that's what matters. Writers block hit me like a brick wall after my last piece that I did for the riders quadrant fic exchange back in July, that piece was only supposed to be 3k in words but ended up around 7.8k. I had been working on this chapter at the same time and had roughly 2k words but after I got through the edits on the gift fic couldn't seem to string together a coherent sentence much less moving the plot forward. all my photos for the moodboard/aesthetic come from pinterest. Last bit of info is that we did pick up two beta readers for this story( but I am always open for more if people want to hop in). So big Thanks to @loving-and-dreaming and @curse-bearing-hips for reviewing this chapter. That said we are all still human so there is more than likely some mistakes. And a huge thanks to @whisplion for inspiring me to write this fic. Hope y’all enjoy  

Summary: A tailor in the heart of Velaris finds herself mated to the two most powerful fae in Prythian. Unfortunately for her the mating bond only snapped for her, leaving her to question on how to move forward. Should she wait for her mates to feel the bond or should she go ahead and reject it and live with the gaping hole in her heart  

Poly!Feysand x Reader 

Warnings: None but there is angst

WC:3.1k

The next few weeks are nothing short of hell. I didn’t know pretending like nothing is wrong would be as exhausting as it has been. It was a never ending cycle of waking up, getting ready, going to work, and coming home. At work I was dancing a fine line of hiding everything from my seamstresses and sister and failing miserably. The only small mercy that I have had was that I haven’t had to see my mates. Thank the mother for that; I don’t know how I would have reacted to seeing them so soon after the bond had snapped. Not seeing them however did nothing to dampen the feelings that the two of them would throw down the bond unknowingly. Deep down  I know that they didn’t mean to send those memories and feelings to me, but on a good day it makes me sick to my stomach. I don’t know why it has gotten worse. I was fine for a year of burying the feelings that I have for the two down.

They were so happy together, and I don’t have a place in their perfect lifestyle. I thought that I had seen them around town a lot when they were just my customers but now it felt like every time I turned around they were there. It has increased since they came in to get their outfits for Starfall designed. I swear I ran into Rhys yesterday when I went to get lunch for myself. I ran into Feyre the other night while I was getting the groceries for my sisters and me. The two of them had actually approached me a week ago while I was at the park with my baby sister. They had little Nyx with them then and it felt like someone had taken a hold of my heart and started squeezing. The babe was adorable at two years of age. He's starting to reign terror on his parents who had apparently decided he needed to run off his energy at the park. The two of them are far more friendly with people than I would have liked, but mostly that friendliness was targeted towards me. As they joined me on the bench sandwiching me between them. They ended up chatting my ear off for the better part of an hour. There brushes of hands against my body that were too well placed to be incidental. It felt like a vice clamping down around my heart as I left the park with my sister to head home. Feyre had wanted me to stay a bit longer so that she could continue talking to me about my sketches. 

The physical interactions with them weren't the worst thing though. It was the images and emotions that the two had unknowingly sent down the bond. It wasn’t unusual to get a flash of lust from one of them at any given time of the day. It was inconvenient to just get hit with the overwhelming need for someone when I’m with clients. Late at night though I get the images. Of my mates tangled up in pleasure. Sometimes it was flashes of Feyre's face screwed up in pleasure; other of Rhys’s eyes alight with lust and desire. Those nights sleep was hard to come by. A few of those nights I found myself back in the shop working on my clients orders, anything to keep my mind from lingering on the two people that didn’t know I was bound to them.  I was surprised to be receiving so much from them down the bond given that both of them are powerful Demati. I figured that they would be skilled at keeping to themselves. 

Last night was one of those sleepless nights. It was a damn near endless barrage of want and need coming from both of them. If I hadn’t known that their mating bond had been accepted between them I would have assumed that they had accepted it last night. I left a note for my middle sister in the kitchen before heading to the shop in the dead of night. Being the night court, plenty of people were milling about the streets and shops in the palace of thread and jewels. Thankfully it isn’t one of the nights we keep the shop open for those who live under the stars, I could work in peace and not be bothered by anyone. No customers, no seamstresses, no nosy sisters, and most importantly no over friendly mates or their friends. 

It was wonderful to sit in the shop and do what I love with my shadows dancing around me. The shadows had been my friends since I was a very small faeling. They were more shy when I was out in public but when it is just me they come to life and sing. I had only seen two other people like me. One was my maternal grandfather who was from a court that had long since been lost; and the other was Azriel. Grandfather was able to teach me how to control the shadows and use them to my advantage. But he also told me to keep the gift to myself. Shadowsingers had long been coveted by the courts to be used as spies; and he and my parents were worried that the former High Lord would have conscripted me into his spy network if it was ever found out. I had successfully kept it a secret for nearly 400 years. Though times like this, when the shop is closed and I have the room to myself, I let them loose. A soft smile grows on my face as I watch the playful shadows dance about the room. A few of them try to be helpful by handing me tools and instruments that I need as I work on Feyre’s Starfall gown. 

Feyre’s dress had been coming along beautifully. She had come in for a fitting last week where we were checking the fit on the mock up. The High Lady had all but begged to have a similar fabric to my own. We had more of the fabric left; thank gods for that; the last thing I wanted to do was take a trip to the Autumn court to source more. I lose track of time working on the dress; so much so that I didn’t realize the sun had risen until I heard the lock on the door turn. 

“Sis, are you still here?” Genevieve calls out. Of course she came here. “I saw your note on the counter this morning. I dropped Itty bitty off at school and brought breakfast.” 

I sigh and set my things down to make my way out of the work room. Genevieve stands in the room looking so much like our mother; hair tied up in a worn red scarf, a dark red linen shirt and comfortable leather trousers. Ready for a day at the blacksmith. In her hands she balances a bag of what I assume is the breakfast and two cups in the other. 

“Your shadows are so helpful I’m jealous.” She passes me one of the cups and I take a sniff and immediately am greeted by the comforting scent of coffee “ Were you here all night again?” 

It's not hard to hear the concern in her voice as she takes a once over of me. 

“Yes” I responded, taking a sip of the delicious coffee that she had brought. 

“Ok what is going on with you.” She cocks her head to the side “It seems like you have been stressed this past year. Well more so than normal. This is starting to get worrisome. The number of times you have left the house in the middle of the night and worked through to morning is ridiculous.”

“What’s going on? I know it's not money since I help with the books and we have two sources of income coming in.” She takes a breath. “You can talk to me Sis.” 

“Let's go into the office. The ladies should be coming in soon.” I led her into my office not wanting to state what was going on when one of my employees could walk in. Once we are in the office I gesture for her to take a seat in front of my desk. I take a seat and my chair, bones creaking as I sit on the soft leather. She fixes me with a look telling me to start talking. 

“So I met my mates.” I sigh running a hand through my hair 

“You met your mate. That's good news right.” She starts rifling through the bag of food 

“Mates. Two of them.” She stops looking up at me 

“Two. Is that possible?” Her eyebrows nearly disappear into her hairline. 

“It is.” I lean back in my chair. “Incredibly rare but possible.” 

“So let me repeat my earlier question. That’s good news right?” 

“It’s complicated.” I bite my lower lip “The two of them are already mated. Sealed the bond and everything. But the bond only snapped for me.” 

“They don’t know.” Her voice drops in concern 

“No,they don’t.” 

“So what is stressing you out about it? You wouldn’t be leaving the house in the middle of the night over nothing?” 

“They are sending things down the bond. Images, emotions; it’s driving me crazy Gen.” 

“Shit, well can you block them out.” Mom had taught the two of us how to shield from Demati when we were younger. 

“I’ve tried; it only is able to dull it.” I fidget in my seat.  “It also doesn’t help that I keep seeing the two of them every time I go out into the city.” 

“Oh..” She hesitates “Do you mind if I ask who it is.?”  I quickly sent a few shadows out to make sure that the shop was still empty and that there were no busy bodies lurking around the shop. 

“It's the High Lord and Lady.” This was the first time I had ever said those words out loud. I guess I had thought that if I didn’t say it then I could pretend it wasn’t real and that it didn’t bother me. Gen lets out a low whistle.

“That does complicate things. I was going to tell you to grow a pair and tell them but fuck. The High Lord and Lady that… that makes things way more complex.” 

“You see why I am stressed now.” I can feel the ugly emotions filling my chest.

“Yeah, you are in the world's shittiest situation.” She lets out a sigh “It's not like you can go up to them and say hey I am your mate. Fuck I am sorry Sis.” 

I let out a wet laugh, a few tears escaped my eyes and rolled down my cheeks “ There’s nothing for you to apologize for. I just got dealt a shitty hand by the mother.” 

“Are you going to…” She trails off. I know what she was going to say though. It wasn’t something that was talked about often and not in polite company. Rejecting the bond. 

“It’s an option, and I am considering it. I want to ask a few friends of mine in Day about it first though. Since it hasn’t snapped for them they shouldn’t notice but I would like some confirmation first.” It helped that I had friends in other courts that I could gather information from; and there was no better place for information than  the Day Court.

“I will support whatever decision you make. You deserve to be happy Sis, and if your happiness is achieved by breaking the bond then do it.” 

The conversation between us dies after that as she passes me a blueberry muffin from the bag. Seems she stopped by our favorite bakery before heading over here. Time seems to fly too quickly and all too soon Gen has to leave for work leaving me here by myself. Although I’m not on my own for too much longer as my employees start trickling in.

The day seems to stretch on and on as clients make their way into the shop for fittings or to pick up their orders. The dull chatter of my employees and the various customers buzzes in my ears as I methodically pull a small needle through water-like silk. It's hard to make out any distinguishable conversation from behind my office door. Today seems like one of those days when time is just suspended and I can work in peace. There is a quiet content hum from my mates bond; one of the few times that I haven't felt heightened emotions from either of them. 

A soft knock shatters the silence of the office, effectively breaking the spell of tranquility that had fallen over me 

“Come in.” My voice cracks just a bit from not using it. The door squeaks open as a familiar head of midnight hair pokes in. Violet eyes twinkle in amusement as a smile grows across his stupidly handsome face. 

“Sweetheart!” The door swings open the rest of the way as Rhysand swaggers his way into my office like he owns it. I am quick to stand from my desk. 

“High lord.” I give him a polite curtsy, slamming my mental shields up before meeting his gaze

“How many times do I have to tell you it's Rhys?” He laughs before taking a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of my desk. “ So are you ready for my fitting or should I come back later.”  

Shit… Shit shit shit. I had completely forgotten that he was on my books for his second fitting today. It wasn’t like I was completely unprepared. No his suit was ready for the fitting but I was nowhere near mentally prepared for a fitting and not having slept the night before was going to be the actual death of me. 

“No, you are fine.” I move from behind the desk “Let me go grab your suit and we will get you out of here in no time.” 

“No need to rush, I quite enjoy your company.” I cannot afford to focus on my racing heart right now. I need to get him out of this shop as quickly as possible. I move through the back of the shop with practiced ease quickly locating the High Lord’s suit hanging neatly next to the High Lady’s gown. The two pieces were works of art in themselves that compliment each other. The suit as dark as the night sky embossed fabric giving the illusion of swirling depths. The dress flowed off the hanger like liquid moonlight, the delicate silk the identical twin to my own gown. Small gems sewn into the bodice catch and reflect the light like the stars that will make their journey across the sky on Starfall. For as much as I don’t want to care about the two, these pieces tell a different story. If I wasn’t just a little bit attached to the two of them I would have passed the designs along to another dressmaker and been done with it; but now I painstakingly designed and sewn these garments for my mates. I let out a small sigh before reaching up to grab the suite. Once I get back to my office I am quick to pass the suit off to Rhys directing him to the small changing area at the back of the office. I quickly begin to route around my desk for my supplies.  

An hour, all I have to do is make it an hour and then I will be free of Rhysand for the time being. It feels like forever before he walks out from behind the curtain. It is only years of working with Rhysand that keeps me from gasping out. If the suit was beautiful on the hanger and dress form it is absolutely stunning on the male it was made for. Rhys makes his way over to the platform and mirror in the office stepping up before moving to fuss with the cuffs. 

“This is a beautiful suit Sweetheart.” He moves to pick off the smallest piece of lint on the  collar. I move to stand behind him to begin the process of adjusting the way the suit sits on Rhysand.

We continued the song and dance that we had done for many years to get the suit to fit him perfectly. I can't help the small ache in my chest as I circle around him placing pins and chalk lines where minute alterations need to be made. Rhys is beaming the whole time chatting away like we hadn’t seen each other just the other day. I can feel the long day in my bones, my hands ache from the countless hours of work. My fingertips are raw from the amount of times I have jammed pins and needles into them. While I try to appropriately match Rhys energy, it's easy to tell that he isn’t buying the act. 

“You seem tired.” He arches a brow at me as I move to pin the hem of his pants. 

“My mates kept me up last night.” A mischievous glint grows in his violet eyes.

“Oh. They kept you up .” He teased but hidden in the back of his teasing tone seemed to be a bit of jealousy… possessiveness. 

“Yeah the two of them kept sending all of their emotions down the bond last night.” I sigh looking up at him from my spot on the floor 

“Two mates…” He stumbles with his words. He hasn’t done that since he was a teen and I was helping my father with his fitting “The mother has blessed you.” 

“Blessed or cursed.” I put the pins down. 

“Cursed.” He questions

“The bond only snapped for me.” A small sad smile grows on my face.  My mental shields are intact and stronger than ever and it's not like I can tell Rhys that he and Feyre are my mates. 

“Have you told them?” He questions, holding a hand out to help me from the floor 

“No. The two of them have already sealed the bond and have started their own perfect little family.” It feels like an Illyrian has punched me in the gut as I make this confession to him “I don’t want to ruin that for them.” 

“So what are you planning to do?” He tilts his head looking at me in sympathy “ Because you seem to have wilted these past few months. 

“I have a few things I am thinking about doing. I want to seek out a few friends in Day first before committing to it.”

“Committing to what Sweetheart?” he gazes at me with concern 

“Breaking the bond.” And as those words leave my lips you can see the color drain from his face.

Tag list: @rachelnicolee @goldenmagnolias @jesssicapanigua @sweetorangeblossom @cat-or-kitten @alowint @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @coldpeachkitten @esposadomd @araneea92 @saltedcoffeescotch @persephonesalvatore

[shadowdaddies]

I’m so sorry but these are not gonna stop anytime soon 😭😭 I have so many ideas for stories and I love seeing how they turn out and you’re the only writer I trust to do it. Feel free at any point to cut me off! Could I get one where the reader and az are in battle and one of them jumps in front of the other to save them and end up getting very seriously injured but they survive. And when they wake up the other can’t belive it and is still upset so they kiss all over them to prove that they are okay. Can I also get a little bit of worrying from cassian and Rhys in there too! Maybe if the reader is the one to get hurt they are worried about her and if it’s az then they’re the ones to comfort her. Thank you!!

lol keep em coming, love! I'm always happy for the requests💜

The Greatest Casualty

Azriel x Reader

Warnings: depictions of battle, blood, injury and death

A storm personified, you surged through the battlefield, cutting down enemy after enemy in a blur of clashing swords and blood. Azriel fought alongside you, the two of you working in tandem as you fought in a darkly beautiful dance together. 

As you moved forward, you caught the archer’s bow directed at you, cutting her arrow down effortlessly with your blade. What you didn’t notice in time was the archer lined next to her, firing their arrow quickly after, aimed straight for your mate. You didn’t have time to calculate the swing of your sword to deflect another arrow in time, adrenaline taking over your thoughts as you pushed Azriel out of the way, diving in front of the arrow yourself. 

As your flesh began to burn, excruciating pain spreading through your veins as the world blurred, you realized the arrow was poisoned. Azriel’s raging scream was the last thing you heard before your vision faded to black. 

Fading in and out of consciousness, you were unaware of how much time was passing as your body warred with itself to stay in this world. There were occasional muffled voices, some you recognized and some you did not. You once thought you could hear Azriel crying as a voice that sounded like Cassian’s comforted him, but when you tried to send reassurance to him through the bond, the connection was weak. All that you could feel from his end was a maelstrom of emotions, swirling torment and agony. Your heart broke for him before drifting back out of consciousness. 

Another time, you could hear Rhys and Feyre, more clearly than you had heard other voices before. They were speaking in hushed tones, but the words you heard were enough to build a fire within you. As your High Lord and High Lady discussed what would happen to your mate should you never wake up, you felt a fire in your veins. You crawled out of that dark place in your mind where you had been resting, clawing your way towards the light in front of you, that golden mating bond tethering you to this life. 

You grabbed that thread and tugged it with all your strength as a blinding light overwhelmed your senses. Your eyes shot open as you gasped for air, the blinding light you saw proving to be daylight shining through the window of your room. Rhys and Feyre turned from their conversation, shock and awe in their expressions before Feyre burst into tears, running to you from across the room. She brought you in for a gentle hug, the ache of your joints eliciting a wince from you regardless. She turned and directed Rhys to get Azriel and a healer, refusing to leave you now that you had awoken.

You nearly sobbed as you heard Azriel’s voice coming closer as he argued with Rhys that they shouldn’t have made him go downstairs to eat, because he missed his mate waking up. The door burst open, Feyre stepping aside to let Azriel settle next to you on the bed. You tried to speak, but the words came out raspy as if your voice hadn’t been used in too long. Feyre and Rhys left you alone with Azriel, heading downstairs to greet the healer whenever they arrived. 

Az studied your face, pressing kisses to every part of you that he could reach. He brushed your hair from your eyes, aiding you as you sat up against the pillows. He helped you drink some water, making it possible for you to speak well enough to ask, “how long was I out for?” Azriel’s face crumpled, sighing as he clutched your hand as though if he let go, you might disappear. “Ten days.” Your lower lip wobbled as you attempted to hold back the tears, Azriel gently shushing you as he held you close to his chest. “You dove in front of an ash arrow with a poisoned tip.” You heard his voice break as he whispered, “We didn’t know how you could survive.”

Azriel pulled back to look in your eyes, a scarred hand stroking your cheek. “Why would you do that, love? I waited for you for nearly six hundred years. I didn’t know - I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.” You took Azriel’s hand in your own, pressing a kiss to his palm. “The arrow would have hit you. I can’t lose you either, Azriel. I would take an arrow for you again without thought. You are my mate, and I would give my life gladly knowing that I will find you in the next.”

Azriel laid down next to you, the two of you enjoying each others’ presence as you began to drift off to sleep. You were startled from your peaceful state as the door was bust open once more, Cassian running in to bring you into a bear hug, your stiff joints protesting as you winced at the overwhelming affection. Azriel pushed him off of you, snarling, “you’re hurting her, Cass.” Cassian pulled away apologetically. “I’m sorry sweetheart, I’m just happy to see you. The healers are here, by the way.” 

Madja entered with another healer who apparently specialized in poisons, the two of them examining your injuries as Azriel kept a protective arm around you the entire time. They left, clearing you for light activity until your next check-up, and Azriel carried you down to have dinner with your family, the both of you overflowing with love and appreciation for each other and the others in your lives.

[danikamariewrites]

Can I pretty please request a

Part 3 clingy reader of Rhysand and Azriel poly ddlg relationship rhysriel

Where reader loves to cockwarm both Azriel and rhysand mainly bc she likes how close it makes her feel to them and it’s comforting like she will fall asleep with them inside her and she loves how comfy it is feel free to make it spicy aswell

Reader crys when they try to pull out bc she goes stupid for them and loves how it feels and how full and comfy it is like wether it her cock warming them when they work or when after they fu..ed or in the bath she wont let them pull out and crys

Attached at the Hip (SMUT)

Rhysriel x reader

A/n: I knew you would request them! I love this for them so much omg

Warnings: ddlg, cock warming, smut, oral fixation

As we’ve talked about before you love being around Rhys and Azzy 24/7

You can’t live without them

There are times that the males make your brain melt from the way they treat you

They’re just so big and strong they make you swoon like heart eyes 😍

Az and Rhys flex their arms and wings and it just does things to you (thinking about it certainly does things to me)

Sometimes they do it on purpose just to get a reaction from you. They always tease you with a shit eating smirk on their face, holding your chin so you look up at them, “Aww, sweet baby. There’s nothing in that sweet head of yours, huh?”

That question always make you stutter

Also as we’ve talked about before, you are very touchy with them

Like you need hands and eyes on them at all times (especially when they’re home)

You usually go to Rhys first because he can’t say no to you

I mean neither of them can say no to you ever

The need for one of them was very overwhelming one afternoon. Both of them had already pleasured you thoroughly this morning, but you couldn’t stop thinking about them. You decided not to be subtle with Rhys either. The two males always told you to be upfront with them when you want something.

You run right up to Rhys, straddling his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. You start kissing his neck, giggling. “Darling,” Rhys laughed, “what has gotten into you?” He asked, the smile evident in his tone. Lightly biting down on the side of his neck you start grinding your core over his bulge, letting out a breathy moan against his skin. “Need you daddy.” You lick the skin you bit, rubbing your nose against his jaw.

“Just need your cock, daddy.” Rhys grabs your hips, pulling you against his growing bulge. “Yeah darling, give me a second and you can have what you want.” Rhys pulls your dress up over your hips to find your pussy bare and dripping for him. Rhys runs his fingers through your folds, letting out a groan. Pulling out his cock, sliding inside you easily

You sit with Rhys’s cock inside you while he finishes up some work. He taps your bum, signaling for you to get up with him. A whine escapes your lips and you tighten your arms around his neck. “No, wanna stay,” you mumble out. Rhys laughed, moving over the couch promising you a few more minutes

With Azriel, you catch him relaxing on the couch reading. It’s definitely a book Nesta suggested to him. Azriel hates to admit it but he loves smutty books. He’ll read them to you while Rhys takes his time worshipping you between your thighs (another story for another time)

You take a gentler approach with Az (that male is a slut for eye contact). You slowly straddle his lap, pressing your chest to his, wrapping your arms around his neck and sliding your fingers i to his soft inky hair

Azriel sucks in a breath, your lips a hair’s breadth away. “Hi Azzy,” you purr, “whatch ya readin’?” You ask in that cute tone that wraps him even tighter around your finger. Azriel smirks. Your want immediately clicking in his mind

“Something you’d love.” Gods that deep, smoky voice got you every time. A small whine leaves your lips as you grind down on his cock. Azriel groans, throwing his head back

“Fuck princess, I know what you want.” You start kissing and nipping at his neck while Azriel pulls his cock free from his sweatpants. He bunches your dress up to find you bare and ready for him

Wasting no time he slides into you, holding the nape of your neck to bring you closer to him. Bringing your face to rest in the crook of Azriel’s neck you take in a deep breath of his scent, your own mixed with his and a hint of Rhys. Your eyes flutter shut at how relaxed you feel in Azriel’s embrace. “Feels so good daddy.” You hum out. “And what do you say when daddy gives you something?” “Thank you daddy.” “Good girl. Want me to read to you?” “Yes please.”

You sit like that until your eyes start to get heavy. Azriel notices and throws a blanket around your shoulders to snuggle with you

You like when both of them stay in you after they fuck you to keep you nice and full

You get very clingy with them after sex and they are more than happy to indulge you

On the very rare occasion they’re both filling your pussy it’s fucking euphoric. The feeling of having Az and Rhys’s cocks stretching your hole is a fucking experience

You always insist that Rhys and Az stay in you until you fall asleep, “wanna feel you forever.” You mumble into one of their chests

Their arms wrap around you, keeping you secure between them as they fill both your holes as you drift off

When only one of them is inside you, you have the other fill you in another way

You grab one of their hands signaling you want their fingers. Rhys is gentle only pressing one finger down on your tongue while Azriel shoves two of his fingers in your mouth knowing you’re greedy and desperate

[elaselat]

Repetition

Azriel x reader

Warnings: PTSD, rape, torture, Vanserra's

You and Azriel had always been close, closer than normal friends would be. However, despite this proximity, denial ran deep through your veins.

After all, how could Azriel love you?

___________________________________________________

It was a normal night in the House of Wind, accompanied by laughter and wine. The inner circle, finally together again despite all their hectic schedules, was enjoying each other's company. Happy chatter flittered around the room, undertoned by hope of the final members arrival.

"Rhys, you better have the good wine out!" Was the only warning Rhysand got before she stormed her way into the room, bidding the rest of the circle with a bright smile.

Feyre, ever curious, pinned Rhysand with a glare rivaling yours. "What did you do this time, my conspiring mate?" Feyre attempted to mute her laughter, but when it came to you, she couldn't quite take an argument seriously.

"Well, dearest Feyre, she's unhappy because I had a mission for her," You raised your brows, waiting for him to explain the mission, "..where she has to go to the Autumn Court" Feyre shook her head and merely gave you a smile, lifting the wine glass back to her lips.

You sauntered over to Az, who sat on a couch located in the corner of the room, taking his lifted glass of wine, downing it, and placing yourself on the armrest. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you down next to him, "You don't always have to steal people's wine when you're mad at Rhysand, do you?"

You only gave Azriel a grin, to which he sighed and reached for the wine and an extra glass, pouring himself and you a glass.

"So how's everyone doing? I haven't seen you in a while Nesta, and hows the progression on your relationship Elain?" You only had to add a hint of teasing into your voice for Elain to go beat red, giving Rhysand another glare as he opened his mouth.

Chatter resumed, Azriel contently listening to everyone's conversation, only interjecting every once in a while. Everytime you went on your rambles, Azriels spirits would only lift more.

But how could you, a beautiful soul, every love him?

He knew about your past in extensive detail, as you knew his by heart. Despite both of your traumatic childhoods, he couldn't understand how you could see through the "horrible" person he had grown to be because of it.

"Why are you still awake Az? Shouldn't you be resting, you just returned from your mission" Azriel had gone out to the balcony that night, wanting to train for a short moment. His hands had started smarting quickly into the session and he pivoted to observing the stars, although they could never compare to your beauty.

Azriel laughed, turning to you when you sat down on the balcony's edge. "Couldn't I say the same to you? Those bags under your eyes couldn't get much bigger with how much you run yourself ragged"

He remembered the somber smile you had given him, with the muttered excuse that you had tried to sleep, but it was a failed attempt. "Could I just keep you company Az? Unless of course, you'd prefer to go back inside" A sheepish glow had lit you cheeks, but Azriel could never deny you anything.

You had both sat in peaceful silence, until curiosity had overwhelmed your mind, "You never answered my question Az". He had given a long sigh and promised to tell you his story if you told him yours. You had barely agreed, but you cared about Az and wanted to help him, even in a such a small way. So, Azriel told you how his hands came to scar, how they still hurt sometimes and his plans for the night that had been ruined because of it.

You, ever the kind soul, took his hands in yours. "They are a beautiful piece of you Az, they come from your bravery. I just want you to know I would never judge you for this, although I'm glad you murdered you brothers. I understand what this is like, what growing up in such a household means."

At that, Azriel was confused. He knew the details of your life after you moved into the House of Wind, but none of your life details before you had arrived.

Still holding his hands, you swallowed, beginning your story. "When I was younger, my father wanted me to live in the human lands. So, my mother, father, and I lived on the outskirts of a little human village. He had glamored me and general forced me to stay home, unless I was running an errand for him. He had worked for Beron while in Prythian, which accounted to his strange behavior. I, being a curious young child, and my mother who loved all things magical, had tried to teach me magic when I was young. My father was quite angry at this, for it could expose us to the humans. He would only yell harsh things, enough to scare me from continuing any form of magic. Soon after though, my mother became pregnant. I was quite excited to have a younger sibling and my fathers spirits seemed to lift."

You paused for a breath before continuing, "When the time came for my mother to give birth, my father didn't even bother to bring her to a hospital, claiming the humans would kill her and the babe if they found out our identities. So, my dear mother went through the pain at home. She was having issues with the birth and I watched the life slowly leave her eyes. I tried to help her with my minimal healing knowledge, but I was too weak from little practice. My mother passed away that night, and I was left alone with my father. He had convinced himself that I had killed her with my magic. He never spoke this aloud, but I could see this build in his mind throughout the years. I had to assume her duties as a young 5 year old, and that's when my father started hitting me. He was angry, angrier than any man I've ever met. I endured the torment because he was my only living family member, until my first bleed. My father, the twisted man he was whose mind only deteriorated with time, tried to rape me after finding out about my bleed. I, of course, fought back against him but my attempts.... were futile. He told me that if I were to kill his wife and offspring, I should at least fill in for those jobs. That if I were to bear him a child, I would be free. When I didn't bear him a child in the first couple of years, he locked me down in the basement, claiming I shouldn't be wasting my time on other duties and only on bearing a child. My father would send his friends down there from time to time, I would get "customers" during the middle of the day when he was off working. They were the only people who new of my heritage, preferring to fuck a Fae than a human. They would do all sorts of things, leaving me with most of the scars I have now. This continued on for many years, but I never bore a child because of the horrid conditions I was forced in. One day, a drunk "customer" happened to leave the door open. I found my escape then, leaving behind my fathers home. After traversing the land, you found my as I was running from Autumn Court soldiers who recognized my fathers scent reeking over me. He was supposedly a traitor of the Autumn Court."

Azriel was speechless, and had meerly pulled you close to him. That night, when you both retired, he wept.

__________________________________________________________

Azriel was concerned about the mission you were going on, returning to the Autumn Court, even if only to meet with Eris. Did Rhysand not recognize this was a dangerous place for you to be? However, Az reasoned that if you didn't mind going, then it should be alright.

Oh how he was mistaken.

__________________________________________________________

You had winnowed out to the Autumn Court border, taking in the scenery as you traversed it, looking for Eris. He'd sent an urgent letter asking to meet, and despite all your horrors of being here, Rhysand assigned you with this mission.

No one but Az knew of your troublesome relationship with the Autumn Court, and you were certainly not going to chicken out on a mission because of it. Az would think you were weak. As you traversed the border, a rustling sound came from the bushes.

"Now now, there's no need to hide. I know you're there..."

An Autumn Court soldier stepped out from the bushes, weapon in hand. This was not what you had been prepped for. Backing away, you noticed there was not just one soldier, but a sequence of them, all surrounding you.

You barely had the time to call out to Rhysand before everything went black.

(P.S. this is my first time writing, let me know what you think! The next part will be up in a short while)

Taglist (Which may or may not work):

@tele86

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Shadowsongs

Summary: After Rhys and Feyre decide to take a trip away to the Summer Court for the night to escape the thralls of their newborn, Azriel is left caring for Nyx and finds that his greatest battle might just be getting him to sleep. I also recently rewatched the Labyrinth and forgot how much that movie slapped so the song from that is included.

As the Velaris tower clock chimed midnight, the sitting room of the River House was enveloped in the soft, ambient glow of faelight. Azriel sunk deeper into the plush, green, velvet couch, his expansive wings draped elegantly over the back of the chair, eyes heavy with exhaustion. His hand rhythmically patted the back of the squirming bundle nestled snugly against his chest. The babe, Nyx, resisted sleep with the tenacity of an Illyrian warrior, his tiny fists punching the air as if to protest the very concept of bedtime. 

The room was a playful mess, strewn with toys - dolls lay abandoned, blankets were tossed aside, and bottles had rolled under chairs. Azriel had assured Feyre and Rhys he could manage babysitting for a day and night. They desperately needed a break after months of non-stop parenting in tandem with running the Night Court, and a trip to the breezy shores of the Summer Court was the only thing keeping Feyre from collapsing into tears. Feyre had sobbed when they left, overwhelming Azriel with reminders of Nyx’s schedule and a litany of do’s and don'ts, which Azriel already knew inside and out. Her maternal instincts flared to the point where Rhys had to gentle pull her away, reassuring her that Nyx would be fine for one night, and, if anything, they should be more concerned about Azriel surviving Nyx than Nyx surviving Azriel. 

Typically, everyone shared babysitting duties throughout the week day, but with Nesta and Cassian off in the Autumn Court, Elain incapacitated by her first fae cycle, and Amren claiming she would rather cut out her own tongue than be left alone with a babe, the responsibility had fallen to Azriel. Leaving Nyx overnight for the first time might have been a tad ambitious. 

“Come on, Nyx,” he coaxed with a whisper of amusement. “You’ve got to give in at some point.” Azriel briefly considered that perhaps this was how the victims of his torture efforts may have felt when they had been kept awake for hours on end. Perhaps he should start having them babysit a fussy Illeryian babe instead of cutting off fingers. He chuckled to himself before pushing the thought away.

Yet, Nyx remained defiant, his violet eyes locked on the ceiling, deep in thought, as if unraveling the secrets of the cosmos rather than giving in to slumber. Azriel exhaled deeply, his fingers threading through his tousled black hair. After learning about Feyre’s pregnancy he had stealthily devoured every parenting book Feyre had purchased, to the perfect formula-to-water ratio, optimal bath temperatures, and baby sensory activities, he had learned it all. When Feyre faced challenges with breastfeeding, Azriel had accidentally revealed his clandestine studies by suggesting a particular latching technique. Cassian had teased him relentlessly since. Despite employing every baby battle strategy known to him, Nyx was relentless.

With a resigned sigh, Azriel sank even further into the plush cushions, resigning himself to a long night. As he watched Nyx’s tiny chest rise and fall with each breath, he couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer stubbornness of the new babe. Azriel couldn’t tell if that was more from Feyre or Rhys, and then decided that that trait most likely came from his Auntie Nesta, whom Nyx had wrapped around his tiny, chubby fingers.

In the dimly lit room, Azriel’s gaze followed his shadows as they danced across the ceiling, capturing Nyx’s rapt attention. With a grin, he watched them twirl and twirl – they were always more playful when Nyx was around. His shadows seemed as curious about Nyx as he was about them. During gatherings at the River House, it wasn’t uncommon for the shadows to envelop Nyx, tickling him and teasing him, eliciting peals of laughter from the delighted babe as he reached out to catch them. 

Elain had said before that the shadows and Nyx reminded her when she and her sisters were young, a black barn cat would seek her out to frolic among the late summer heat. Azriel wondered what Nyx made of these ethereal companions, if they were like an animal to him, or another playmate. He also pondered whether the shadows would maintain their fascination with him as he grew older. Azriel, himself, hadn’t spent much time around children this young, and his shadows seemed to be so gentle with the babe, as though they somehow could sense his innocence and hoped he would keep it forever.

As Azriel and Nyx both kept their gaze to the ceiling, the shadows began to craft intricate shapes and forms, transforming into a mesmerizing puppet show. Nyx’s restless squirming subsided as the shadows danced across the walls, casting enchanting silhouettes that swirled and twirled in their silent ballet creating a tableau of delight.

On the ceiling, an array of animals appeared in what resembled a grand ballroom scene. Pegasus, birds, and sheep mingled before parting to reveal a single swan, its wings unfurling with ethereal grace. The swan bowed elegantly before twirling loftily above its admiring audience. Then, emerging from the gathered shadows, a sly fox approached, gracefully taking the swan’s wings in its paws and spinning it in a delicate dance. Although the room was silent, one could easily imagine the soft strains of music. Nyx reached up excitedly, prompting Azriel to adjust his hold, lifting him slightly higher for a better view.

As the dance continued above, some shadows descended the walls and playfully twirled around Nyx, their cool touch eliciting giggles from the dark-haired babe.

The shadows conjured forth visions of Nyxs’ family, distant echoes of life beyond the cozy sitting room. 

In one corner of the room, the shadows morphed into delicate snowflakes cascading down the wall. Above the floorboard, three figures raced across the scene – two winged Illyrians and one without wings. The winged males playfully lobbed snowballs at their wingless companion, who shielded his head with his hands. Suddenly, a log sprung from the ground, causing the wingless man to trip and tumble face-first into a pile of snow below. The two other males doubled over with laughter, one even dropping to his knees as the snow continued to fall. Nyx’s eyes widened with wonder, his tiny fingers reaching out to grasp the fleeting shapes. The snowball fight between his father and brothers drew excited coos and giggles from him, his laughed echoing around the room.

In the other corner, the shadows drifted into a scene of a woman standing at an easel, the woman's stomach swollen with child. The shadow woman stood before an easel, her brush moving across the canvas, she ran her hand over her stomach, glancing down towards it when a man walked in behind her, twirling her around into an embrace. The man leaned over, placing a tender kiss on the woman's stomach. Nyx babbled joyfully, his tiny feet kicking Azriel’s chest with delight, which while uncomfortable brought a smile to his face.

Across the ceiling, the shadows painted a scene of a great battle, a field of war and chaos as two winged males fight back to back against a vast army, shooting arrows and swinging swords. 

While the shadows swirled the tapestry of memories, Azriel looked only at Nyx, who giggled and babbled in delight at the unfolding scenes. With each passing moment, it became increasingly apparent to Azriel that while the shadows were doing their best to soothe Nyx to sleep, they had only awakened him more. It became glaringly obvious that bedtime stories wouldn’t work. 

Nyx’s giggles and coos echoed through the River House. With a sigh, Azriel gestured for the shadows to cease their dance, and the room was once again plunged into a soft, dim glow. 

“Alright, Nyx,” Azriel murmured, his voice gentle but tinged with exhaustion. “Let’s try something else.”

He drew Nyx back into his arms, cradling him close against his chest. Rising from the enveloping comfort of the couch, Azriel’s footsteps were muted against the plush rug of the sitting room as he began to meander through the house. Moonlight streamed through the towering windows, casting the ornate corridors in a serene silvery light, illuminating the walls adorned with Feyre’s vibrant paintings. 

Feyre and Rhys had both endured their share of sleepless nights, pacing the same halls with Nyx in their arms. Rhys had noted that being the babe of the Night Court it seemed all Nyx wanted to do was explore the world when the sun had set and all had gone quiet. Perhaps Nyx was more bat than babe.

Undeterred, Azriel pressed on, his footsteps echoing through the halls as he swayed in arms in a steady rhythm. But Nyx remained stubbornly awake, his eyes darting from window to window cooing loudly. As he reached the grand staircase that spiraled upwards, a faint cry echoed through the silence. Nyx stirred in his arms, his tiny fists clutching at his shirt as he let out a wail. 

Azriel attempted to shush the fussy baby who now was wailing louder for what seemed no apparent reason. Perhaps Nyx was finally fighting exhaustion as well. With a sigh, Azriel retraced his steps, as he stepped into Nyx’s nursery. 

Feyre had taken months to finally get the nursery the way she envisioned it. She had wanted Nyx’s room to encompass the entirety of Prythian as they were unsure what powers Nyx might hold. 

Each wall of the room was a canvas of vibrant colors and intricate designs including the bay window that Feyre had insisted be where Nyxs’ bassinet be. 

Painting the Spring Court wall had been a battle unto itself with Rhys and Cassian joking constantly that the wall should be burning to the ground, or that she should paint Tamlin being pursued by a dragon. Feyre had just shot them an obscene gesture and instead painted spring blossoms of pastel pinks and greens. Delicate flowers bloomed amidst emerald meadows, their petals unfurling in the warmth of the sun. Amongst the meadow was a warm pool with a waterfall cascading down a mountainside. 

Opposite, the wall of Summer blazed with the fiery hues of the sun, a tapestry of gold and crimson beamed down onto the deep blue sea, where Tarquin’s white castle glistened atop the white sandstone mountain. 

Next to it, the wall of Autumn was a symphony of earthy greens, oranges, reds, and browns. The Autumn Court forest held deep shadows which made the wheat fields protruding from them seem like shining gold. Lucien had helped Feyre paint this wall, and his awkward-looking, disproportionate deer and fawns clearly showed that. 

Beside the Autumn wall, the Winter Court lay shrouded in a blanket of icy blues and silvery whites. Snowflakes danced amidst frost kissed pines, their branches bending beneath the weight of the winter embrace. Bears and arctic foxes scampered on the piles of snow, wearing the traditional colors. Elain had insisted on giving the little foxes scarves. Azriel had reminded her they were made for that sort of weather but Elain had only glanced at him sadly before saying “But what if they get cold” before she painted tiny mittens on the bears. 

On the half of the ceiling closest to the door, Feyre had painted the Dawn and Day courts. Sunlight streamed through branches of ancient oaks as it rose from the corner of the room, and hills of rolling green with children from each court playing amongst them filled out the space. 

Over Nyxs’ crib, Feyre had painted a deep blue color of the sky with a sparkle of stars strewn across it. Rhys had enchanted the space just below the ceiling to be constantly in motion with sparkling star dust which moved in and out of constellations, with the occasional shooting star flying high above. 

As Nyx continued his tirade of shrill cries, Azriel rocked him around the room, shushing him as much as he could. As he continued to sway gently with Nyx in his arms, the baby began to quiet, his tiny body nestled into Azriels chest as his breaths steadied. With a tender smile, he began to sing, his voice a gentle melody through the darkness, like a whispered prayer. 

“I saw my baby, crying hard as babe could cry,” he sang, “What could I do?” 

With each note, Nyx grew more and more relaxed, his eyelids fluttering closed from the gentle cadence and rocking. 

“My baby’s love had gone and left my baby blue” he sang, his voice soft and tender, “Nobody knew.” 

Azriel watched Nyx’s tiny fingers curl against his chest, his breathing slow and steady and sleep drifted closer. 

“What kind of magic spell to use, slime and snails, puppy dog tails, thunder or lightning,” Azriel continued to sing as he wandered carefully over to the crib. 

“Dance magic, dance magic dance, dance magic dance,” He lowered Nyx into the soft blue oasis. “Jump magic, jump, jump magic, put that baby’s spell on me, kiss my baby, make her free,” Azriel placed his palm onto Nyx’s chest and continued to rub back and forth soothingly. 

“I saw my baby,” He continued, softer, more of a whisper, “Trying hard as babe could try, what could I do?” Azriel dropped to his knees, his fingers tracing the lines of the baby's face as he rested his arm on the side of the bassinet and laid his head atop it. “My baby’s fun had gone, and left my baby blue, nobody knew.” Nyx’s soft pink lips fell open slightly as his eyes finally closed and his head fell to the side. Azriel smiled and found his eyes drifting shut as well. 

Feyre found them the next morning that way. Nyx sprawled on his back, his tiny fingers wrapped around Azriels, and Azriel, a piled heap on the floor, his wings splayed on the floor behind him with his head still resting against the crib. 

Rhys walked up behind her as Feyre motioned him silently. “I guess he does sleep,” she whispered.

“Who?” Rhys chuckled, “Az or Nyx?”

Feyre turned her head to look at Rhys, “Both I guess.” 

Rhys asked Feyre if she planned to go in and wake either of them up but Feyre only shook her head, “I think they both could use a little more time.” 

With that, Feyre shut the door quietly, leaving the warrior and the babe to sleep a little longer.

[readychilledwine]

Bound by Fate - Part Two

Part 2 Summary - just a short little filler after Kaylee finally wakes up.

Warnings - slight self harm/rage fit, references to sexual assault, some sexual tension

Word Count - just over 2000

Part One Part Three Part Four Part Five

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

Deep voices caused Kaylee to stir. She was somewhere soft, warm, and there was something strong wrapped around her. "She's waking up," a smooth voice said. "Come on, Kaylee." 

Another set of hands brushed her hair and sweat from her forehead. Soft, large, slightly calloused. Rhys, her mind whispered. "We are all right here, honey. You are safe." 

Scarred hands ran up and down her back, her arms, her neck. They laced into her hair and scratched her head as if they knew a headache was starting. "She is overwhelmed." Kaylee snuggled further into the source of that voice, of those hands. "We have food downstairs, Kaylee. I know you're hungry. Just open your eyes and we will get you downstairs." 

Kaylee finally stirred enough to peek one eye open slowly, keeping the other screwed shut to ensure that this wasn't another cruel joke. "You are safe," Rhys whispered again. 

Kaylee opened both of her eyes before beginning to stretch and accidentally tapping a wing behind her. The hand in her hair tightened and Rhysand chuckled lightly. "Sorry." 

Rhysand pulled Kaylee's hand to his lips and kissed it gently. "He's fine. There's dresses in the closet. I'm going to leave you two alone. Dinner will be served in 30 minutes."

Kaylee rolled into Azriel's chest, immediately noticing how she could now actually place his scent. Cedar and Night air. He held her silently. Allowing her to process being awake, allowing her to process where she was. 

The silence between them was comfortable, despite the numerous questions he had. He remembered her at the King's feet. Pale, broken, lifeless. As if every ounce of joy and youth had been drained from her. He knew what had happened there, but he needed answers on how deeply that emotional scar ran. 

He finally broke the silence between them, "When you're ready, I need you to show Rhysand what all happened. We do not have to talk about it, but we need to know who all was involved." Kaylee just nodded against him as a soft pull came from her ribcage. "I also need to know where boundaries are with us now."

She processed that sentence as if it was being drug through mud. "I don't think there can be an us right now, Azriel." The words stung him. The bond aching at the slight rejection. "I don't think I can just hand myself to you after-" he watched as her eyes squeezed shut again, as if blinking hard enough would erase those memories.

Azriel kissed her forehead gently. "I do not want you to hand yourself to me, Kaylee." The soft timber of his voice made her relax significantly. "I want you to heal. I want you to grow. I want to be by your side and in your corner as that happens." 

Warm wet tears began to run down her face as she finally looked at Azriel. His hazel eyes were studying her as he wiped the tears from her cheekbones. "I can wait forever, Kaylee. But I can't stay away. All I ask is you do not push me away. If this is as close to intimacy as we ever come again, I can live with this. I can live knowing you are safe in my arms, happy, and healthy. Okay?" 

She nodded again, love overfilling her heart. Pulling him closer to her, she just laid in his arms. "I'm sorry," her voice was broken. Her hands and body were beginning to tremble. The weight of what was between them hit her. This constant connection between the two of them hit her. She felt his anger, his sorrow, and his self-loathing. She felt his relief and joy. She felt that string of emotions running through him. 

"You NEVER apologize for what that asshole did to you ever again. Do you hear me?" Azriel forced her to look at him. "Nothing that happened was your fault. You owe no one an apology."

"He-"

"Will pay for what he did to you. He will suffer for every second of it." Azriel pulled her in again. "Even if it takes me 900 years, Kaylee. He will suffer."

It was a promise that had Kaylee leaning impossibly further into his body. Silence fell between the two again as his wings wrapped around them and shielded her from the outside world. 

Kaylee's stomach interrupted the silence this time. "I'm really hungry." Azriel hid his smile in her hair. "Really really hungry."

Azriel looked down at her again before holding his hand out and grabbing the dress his shadows brought to him. "I'll let you get dressed and then take you downstairs." Azriel pulled himself away from her, painfully slow, and Kaylee's eyed widened. "What?" Kaylee shook her head. "Does me being shirtless bother you, honeybee?" 

It did. It bothered her a lot actually. Azriel was beautiful. Muscles sat under tanned skin, dark swirling tattoos covered his arms, chest, and shoulders. "I-" Azriel just smirked as her mouth shut. He approached her slowly and leaned down to her now sitting height. "Hi." 

"Hello," he kissed her nose softly. "The bathroom is right there," she watched as his hand motioned towards the open doorway. Her eyes trailed the veins in his arms. He watched as she bit her lip. Studying her reaction to him as if he was someone he had locked in his dungeon. He knew he would have to tell Rhys what he was figuring out very quickly. 

They all knew from their experience with the sexually assaulted priestess, and from Rhysand, that victims fell into a few different categories, and he was quickly figuring out Kaylee's. Shame and guilt flooded the bond from her end once the arousal hit. "It's perfectly fine and normal for you to still have wants and urges." Azriel kissed her forehead again before leaving the room to go change. 

Cassian was leaned against his bedroom door and pushed off of it. "How is she?" They entered his room. Cassian immediately took a seat on Azriel's bed, wings stretching slightly and his face lightly wincing. "Fucking wings."

"Stop doing that before you hurt them again. She's numb outside. Terrified inside." Cassian nodded. The same feelings he was constantly experiencing from Nesta minus the anger. "She likes my arms," Azriel shrugged at Cassian. 

Cassian laughed loudly. "You are attractive, Azzie." Azriel felt his face heating up, only furthering Cassian's laughter. "Is it okay if I go say hello to her?" 

Azriel nodded and watched as Cassian left the room. It was then he allowed the absolute rage he felt to come forward. He was staring at himself in the mirror, buttoning the front of his shirt up, and without even knowing what was happening, his fist collided with the glass surface shattering it into thousands of tiny pieces.

He threw a few things to the ground, rage spiraling in him for longer than he was proud to admit. Hands found his shoulders and spun him into a tight hug. He breathed deeply, clinging to the soft jacket and scent of citrus and sea as Rhysand used that one spot in his shields to enter his mind and calm him. 

"It's okay, Az." Rhys felt Azriel begin sobbing into his shirt. "Everything will be okay. She's in the dinning room with Cassian. It's just the four of us tonight. She's smiling, she's laughing at his shitty jokes. She's okay right now."

Azriel nodded, refusing to drop his hold on Rhys. "I want to kill him." 

Rhysand understood. He wanted the King to suffer as well. He wanted him to suffer as payment for the years Rhys spent locked in Amarantha's bed, for the torture Feyre went through at his general's hands.

He wanted to kill him after he allowed his brothers to bleed and almost took them both from him. He wanted the king to suffer for every single moment or fear, pain, and devastation the Archeron sisters had been through.

He wanted to kill him for the nightmares that Rhys had watched plague Kaylee. The acts of cruelty forced upon a mortal girl barely entering her adulthood. He wanted his head on a spike, delivered to her by Azriel after the Spymaster had stripped the King of every shred of hope the way he had Rhysand's poor little sister.

"We will, Az. We will skin him alive if that's what you need. Right now, though, Kaylee is taking a big step her sisters have not yet, and she needs support. She needs you." Rhys paused to heal Azriel's hands, the House having already picked up and repaired the rest. "Let's go eat. There's brownies. The ones Cerridwen makes with the salted caramel swirled in it. Kaylee might eat all of them before you get there if you don't hurry." Azriel pulled away. His face fell as he took in Rhysand's serious features. "Her sweet tooth puts yours and Cassian's to shame, brother." 

Azriel instantly moved out of the room, yelling down the stairs as he stalked towards them. "Kaylee, I swear on the Mother, if you eat all of those brownies we will fight."

Cassian's loud laughter filled the house immediately, mixing with one Rhysand and Azriel could only describe as soft. It felt like rain falling on the roof of the House. Like a gentle breeze on a hot day. Rhysand tapped his shoulder, and they looked toward the windows lining the room. 

Countless animals scurried, birds flapped their wings happily, soaring carelessly in celebration. Rhys felt his jaw tighten and Azriel felt his stomach drop. 

Her laughter was the final confirmation that the sudden increase in wildlife around the Night Court had to do with Kaylee. They took their seats calmly as Kaylee and Cassian continued to giggle. 

Azriel watched as Rhysand looked over Kaylee. She looked beautiful in the pretty off the shoulder cotton dress, her hair braided by Cass. But power that continued to beat off of her, echoing through the halls that had Rhysand's interest and attention.

He finally said into Azriel's mind, She has powers over nature and animals. We need to be careful. If she can summon little things unknowingly with just her laughter, Gods know what she could bring with practice.

Azriel's jaw twitched. There were countless possible answers for what she could be. Amren had been searching for days now, only finding more questions. Questions they'd only be able to answer by using Kaylee's powers. He looked over at Kaylee. Her smile was beaming as she laughed at whatever Cassian just said as he pushed more food on her plate. Rhys, we have no clue what she actually-

I know. Rhys interrupted the thought. His own cut off as Kaylee reached for Azriel's hand and held it. It was a subtle movement caused by the bond. She had felt Azriel's need for comfort and offered it to him instantly. We just have to be careful. 

Taglist:

@impossibelle

[sodapopwrites]

a ballad of flame and shadow part eight

pairings - azriel x rhysand's sister!reader, feyre x rhysand

summary - rhysand's sister goes to visit feyre at the cabin after feyre finds out she's rhysand's mate.

word count - 2k

a/n - i love...when women talk about things. also...this one's a little happier. she's warming up i think. i mean...it's gonna go back to being super angsty in the next part but hey...they'll be happy at some point.

read the rest of the series here!

Rhysand was a tempest of worry. Feyre had bolted as soon as she found out he was her mate. Run for the hills as far away from Rhysand as she could get. 

She almost wanted to laugh. That feeling? Of not being able to accept your own feelings, due to guilt, due to other obligations, due to anything really. That was something she knew well. 

By the time she and Azriel had returned to the camp and she had found her brother pacing, he was healing, he was okay. Relief flooded her at the sight of him. As anxious as he was. As guilty as he felt for lying to Feyre about their mating bond. He was okay. He was standing and pacing and healed enough to feel every bit of his anxiety. 

He was okay enough, even to notice that his sister and Azriel had returned together. Her hand in his. His eyes followed her as she rushed to Rhys’s side. The shadow singer avoided the high lords gaze with adamancy. 

“I have no idea where she is and Morrigan is refusing to tell me.” 

His sister tried to hold back a smile, but he caught it before she could, 

“You know I’m glad my misery is funny to you.” 

She sighed and flipped him off, “Serves you right for not telling her.” 

Rhysand grumbled something about stubborn meddling sisters before turning away from her. He was going to try and get Mor to tell him where Feyre had run off to. She stopped him, a hand on his shoulder and said quietly, 

“Let me go.” 

He looked at her, worry etched across his features, “What are you going to say to her if you find her?” 

“That-” She started to leave him, “is for me to know and you to find out.” 

She shot him a teasing grin before rushing off to find Mor. He looked at Azriel and narrowed his eyes, 

“Where exactly were you two?” 

The spymaster shrugged and held his gaze, refusing to say anything. Rhysand scoffed, 

“You know whatever it is that’s going on between the two of you is…it gives me a headache.” 

“You’re one to talk” 

Azriel offered up a small smile. Rhysand let out a low laugh.

“Mine isn’t as bad as yours. It hasn’t been going on as long.” 

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She found Feyre without even having to ask Mor. She knew exactly where Mor would have taken her. The cabin. When she pushed the door open the first thing that met her was the rush of color. The paint that Feyre had covered the walls in. She looked a little taken aback. This cabin hadn’t changed in years. Nothing had. But then came along this little human girl and everything changed. The paintings littering the walls of the cabin were a beautiful reminder of that. A beautiful reminder of how much color and how much hope Feyre Archeron had managed to bring into their families life. 

Feyre sat at the wooden table in the center of the room, looking a little guilty as Rhys’s sister took in the paintings. 

“I hope you don’t mind”

She shook her head and stepped closer to the painting of Azriel’s eyes. Her fingers brushed over it. Taking in the accuracy and the skill. Feyre watched her closely. Watched as she noticed the pair of eyes next to Azriel’s were her own. She turned towards Feyre now and joined her at the table. She gave the girl before her a small smile.

“How are you feeling?” 

“Overwhelmed.” 

She let out a laugh at Feyre’s admission and nodded, 

“The mating bond is a serious thing. It’s rare and it’s beautiful. But yes…it’s overwhelming.” 

Feyre studied her. She looked almost sad as she continued, 

“You’re lucky though. To have it and to have it with someone like my brother. As obnoxious as he is…he has a lot of good in him…and he loves you…I’ve had to hear about it for months actually. Let yourself feel this. Not feeling it is…harder and more painful. Not letting that bond snap into place out of…stubborness or spite or guilt….it’s..” 

She sighed deeply. 

“It does more harm than good.” 

Feyre watched the female before her and chose her next words carefully, 

“You sound like you speak from experience.” 

A knowing smile spread across Rhys’s sister’s face, “Do you love my brother Feyre?” 

An avoidance. Feyre looked around the room, at her paintings, and took a shuddering inhale. 

“He’s High Lord of the night court and I’m-” 

“And you are Feyre Archeron. Feyre Cursebreaker. That’s not nothing.” 

Her smile was warm as she looked at the young fae sitting in front of her, Feyre didn’t say anything she just blinked slowly and furrowed her brows, so the high lord’s sister continued, 

“Can you feel it?”

She reached across the table to lay her hand over Feyre’s chest, “That golden thread? Tugging at your heart like it’s trying to pull you straight to him?” 

Feyre didn’t move. She just watched as the female before her smiled at the mention of the bond, of how it felt, of the pull of it. Feyre frowned slightly and tilted her head, daring herself to ask a question she probably shouldn’t, 

“Do you?” 

She pulled her hand away from Feyre’s chest and moved to stand. She forced a smile, trying desperately to cover the heartache Feyre’s question had brought about, before gripping the handle of the door to the cabin. 

“Don’t wait too long…to tell him…that you love him. Don’t let guilt hold you back. Don’t deprive yourself of who your very soul calls for. It’ll wear you down and turn you into something….Something dark and afraid to love.” 

She felt like she could cry looking at the girl still sitting at the table, so much ahead of her, so much love and light that she prayed Feyre would accept. 

“You should learn to take your own advice.” 

There was no malice in Feyre’s voice as she said it. Only earnest understanding. 

“That’s easier said than done Feyre.” 

“I don’t think it’s too late to try though.” 

She offered Feyre one final smile before opening the door, 

“Don’t make Rhys wait too long. He’ll just get more insufferable the longer you refuse to talk to him. I’m sick of him already, honestly.” 

She closed the door behind her and started to make her way back to the camp. 

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When she winnowed back into the camp she was greeted with Rhysand’s worried face. He looked terrible and not just because of his injuries. She gave him a quick once over before muttering, 

“I can’t tell  you where she is. Not without betraying her trust. But you should go look for her.” 

“What did she tell you?” 

“None of your business.”

“If it was about me then it absolutely is my business.” 

She raised an eyebrow at her brother and shook her head. She crossed her arms and stared at him. He sighed and hung his head, 

“I’m going to find her.” 

She gave him a nod of approval, “Yeah you do that Rhysand.” 

“You know you’ve gotten more annoying in the last fifty years.” 

She let out a small laugh, “And you’re just as bothersome as the day you left.” 

He smiled at his sister, strained, but still a smile. She pointed to the door, motioning for him to go. He nodded his relent and stretched out his wings, letting the wind blow against them for a moment before taking off. 

She turned away from the spot her brother had just launched from and caught Azriel’s eyes immediately. He stepped towards her and she let him brush her hair behind her ear. Let him rest his hand on her arm and squeeze it gently.

Can you feel it? That golden thread tugging at your heart like it’s trying to pull you straight to him? 

 She took in his beautiful features. His eyes glimmering under dark, heavy, lashes. The brush of his eyebrows and the cut of his cheekbones. If she could have, she would have looked at him forever. Until the image of him was seared into her sightline and she could never see another thing. He spoke before she could, 

“Last night?” 

She pulled out of his hold and started to walk to her room. He stood stationary. Not entirely surprised that she didn’t want to talk about it. But he had let himself hope that it wasn’t just a one off thing. Let himself hope that maybe they could start again. But there she was. Walking away from him again. He started to turn around, to walk away, but saw her turn around. He stilled and looked at her. Waiting for her to say something. He couldn’t breathe. 

She turned around when she reached the doorway of her room and looked at him. Tilting her head slightly and holding out her hand for him to take, 

“Are you coming or not?” 

He let a warm smile spread across his face as he took her hand. 

I was willing to take anything you wanted to give me. I still am. 

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They still didn’t let themselves talk about what it was. But they were a unified front again. Maybe not again. It was different than it was before. An understanding. Something they let themselves enjoy. Still something they didn’t tell anyone about. Telling people, their family, made it serious. Made it something she couldn’t handle. But this? Something to share, just the two of them, some comfort as the stress of their situation set in. 

The mortal queens unwavering in their denial. The consequences of exactly how the second half of the book had fallen into the Night Court’s hands. The knowledge that soon. Soon they’d have to make their way to Hybern. Soon Feyre would have to face the cauldron and unleash that power she held within her. 

It seemed easier to take. Easier to handle. All of it. All of it easier to deal with when she could end her day, falling asleep in his arms. When she could reach for his hand under the table and feel him squeezing her fingers in return. But still. She couldn’t admit what it was. Couldn’t let herself fully give into that warmth in her chest. Around her heart. Ice yet to be unthawed. 

It didn’t go unnoticed. That Azriel would trail after her when she went to bed. That she found herself standing next to him whenever they gathered. That Azriel would move to stand barely a step in front of her, as if to shield her from whatever was thrown at her. It wasn’t unnoticed. By Feyre especially. 

“What exactly did you two talk about when my sister came to see you in the cabin?” 

Feyre smiled coyly at Rhysand’s question. She thought that his sister would have told him. But that conversation was just for them. The vulnerability his sister had shown was just for her. The privacy of that moment a testament to the friendship she had forged with Rhysand’s sibling. 

“That is for us to know…busybody” 

Rhys shook his head, “I don’t like this alliance.” 

Feyre laughed as she kissed his cheek, 

“Poor little high lord. You just don’t like knowing exactly what people say about you.” 

He shot her a small, half hearted, frown. She sighed, “She came to talk to me about you…but I think she was mostly talking about herself.” 

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She went with him. To Rhysand’s surprise. She left Verlaris with Azriel. Leaving Cassian to take Feyre to the Symphony, a small thing to enjoy before what was to unfold.

taglist:

@littlepippilongstocking @lilah-asteria @wrecklesssly @negomi123

[romanticatheartt]

Feyre and Nesta

Not me, because Nesta had always known and hated that she and I were two sides of the same coin, and that I could fight my own battles. ~ acotar ch.4

I couldn’t bring myself to look at my slightly uptilted eyes. I knew I’d see Nesta or my mother looking back at me. I’d sometimes wondered if that was why my sister had insulted me about my looks. I was a far cry from ugly, but … I bore too much of the people we’d hated and loved for Nesta to stand it. For me to stand it, too. ~ acotar ch.7

Nesta merely stared at me for a long while before asking me to teach her how to paint. ~ acotar ch.30

“I couldn’t take care of us, not the way you did. I hated you for that. But I hated him more. I still do.” ~ acotar ch.30

“We don’t need you here, Feyre. Do not look back.” “Father once told you to never come back,” Nesta said, “and I’m telling you now. We can take care of ourselves.” Once I might have thought it was an insult, but now I understood—understood what a gift she was offering me. ~ acotar ch.31

“There is a better world, Nesta. There is a better world out there, waiting for you to find it. And if I ever get the chance, if things are ever better, safer … I will find you again.” ~ acotar ch.31

✩₊˚.⋆♡⋆⁺₊✧

“Nesta,” I said, starting on the other wing, “I painted flames for her. She was always angry, always burning. I think she would like Velaris, despite herself.” ~ acomaf ch.49

“Nesta is different from most people,” I explained. “She comes across as rigid and vicious, but I think it’s a wall. A shield—like the ones Rhys has in his mind.” “Against what?” “Feeling. I think Nesta feels everything—sees too much; sees and feels it all. And she burns with it. Keeping that wall up helps from being overwhelmed, from caring too greatly.” ~ acomaf ch.58

“She will never love freely and gift it to everyone who crosses her path. But the few she does care for … I think Nesta would shred the world apart for them. Shred herself apart for them.” ~ acomaf ch.58

✩₊˚.⋆♡⋆⁺₊✧

“I assumed you could read as easily as us.” “Well, I couldn’t.” “Why didn’t you ask us to teach you?” I trailed a finger over the neat row of spines. “Because I doubted you would agree to help.” Nesta stiffened like I’d hit her, coldness blooming in those eyes. ~ acowar ch.30

“Why do you push everyone away but Elain?” Why have you always pushed me away? Some emotion guttered in her eyes. Her throat bobbed. Nesta shut her eyes for a moment, breathing in sharply. “Because—” ~ acowar ch.30

I gripped Nesta’s fingers in my free hand. She glanced at me. I need you to trust me, I tried to convey to her. Nesta read the emotion in my eyes—and gave the barest dip of her chin. ~ acowar ch.31

“Run toward the light,” I breathed to Nesta. “I’ll hold them off.” “No.” “Run,” I breathed. “Please.” She hesitated. “Please,” I begged her, my voice breaking. Nesta squeezed my hand once. ~ acowar ch.31

But Nesta looked to me—and I could have sworn fear shone there, and guilt and … some other feeling. “You told me to run.” “You’re my sister,” was all I said. She’d once tried to cross the wall to save me. ~ acowar ch.32

And nearly made my heart stop dead with shock as she said, “You look beautiful.” ~ acowar ch.41

“It was some distant thing,” she said. “War. Battle. It … it’s not anymore. I will help, if I can. If it means … telling them what happened.” “You’ve given enough,” I said, my dress rustling as I braved a solitary step toward her. ~ acowar ch.42

“But beneath the wall, I witnessed children—entire families—starve to death.” She jerked her chin at me. “Were it not for my sister … I would be among them.” My eyes burned, but I blinked it away. ~ acowar ch.46

“Sometimes … I have problems with small spaces.” Nesta studied me for a long moment. And then she said with equal quiet, though we could all hear, “I can’t get into a bathtub anymore. I have to use buckets.” I hadn’t known—hadn’t even thought that bathing, submerging in water … I knew better than to touch her hand. But I said, “When we get home, we’ll install something else for you.” I could have sworn there was gratitude in her eyes—that she might have said something else. ~ acowar ch.52

“Nesta is many things, but she’s certainly loyal.” ~ acowar ch.61

Nesta broke into another sprint. I reached for Rhysand, his face taut as he stalked for us— But Nesta got there first. I swallowed my shout of pain as Nesta’s arms went around my neck and she embraced me so hard it snatched my breath away. Her body shook—shook as she sobbed and said over and over and over, “Thank you.” ~ acowar ch.65

A moment later, another warm body nestled on my left. Nesta’s scent drifted over me, fire and steel and unbending will. ~ acowar ch.65

I offered my hand to my sister. “I want you here for this. With me.” Nesta considered that outstretched hand. For a moment, I thought she’d walk away. But she slid her hand into mine, and together we walked into that room. ~ acowar ch.79

✩₊˚.⋆♡⋆⁺₊✧

“She wanted you there.” I wanted you there. ~ acofas ch.13

She settled back in her seat, crossing her arms. “Why do I have to be a part of your merry little band?” “You’re my sister.” ~ acofas ch.13

“I know you still blame yourself for your sisters being Made.” Mor nudged my knee with her own. “And because of that, you want to fix everything for them now that they’re here.” “I always wanted to do that,” I said glumly. Mor smiled crookedly. “That’s why we love you. Why they love you.” Nesta, I wasn’t so sure about. ~ acofas ch.18

But Nesta’s attention had gone to the birthday cake still sitting on the table, its various tiers delved into many times over. Her eyes lifted to mine in the silence. “Happy birthday.” ~ acofas ch.20

✩₊˚.⋆♡⋆⁺₊✧

Every piece of art had been picked by Feyre herself, or painted by her, many of them portraits and depictions of them—her friends, her … new family. There were none of Nesta, naturally. ~ acosf ch.1

“I’ll take the blame,” Feyre went on, “for allowing things to get this far, and this bad. After the war with Hybern, with everything else that was going on, it … You … I should have been there to help you, but I wasn’t, and I am ready to admit that this is partially my fault.” ~ acosf ch.1

“Keep your self-righteous do-gooder nonsense out of my life.” “You don’t have a life,” Feyre retorted. “And I’m not going to sit by for another moment and watch you destroy yourself.” She put a tattooed hand on her heart, like it meant something. “I decided after the war to give you time, but it seems that was wrong. I was wrong.” ~ acosf ch.1

“I built a room in this house for you. I asked you to help me decorate it. You told me to piss off.” “Why would I ever want to stay in this house?” ~ acosf ch.2

Feyre’s eyes blazed. “But I’m done paying for you to destroy yourself.” ~ acosf ch.2

There was nothing to bind them together anymore. ~ acosf ch.2

“Because she hates me.” Feyre snorted. “Cassian, Nesta does not hate you. Believe me.” “She sure as shit acts like it.” Feyre shook her head. “No, she doesn’t.” Her words were pained enough that he frowned… …Feyre sighed. “That’s my long way of saying that if Nesta hated you … I know what it looks like, and she doesn’t hate you.” ~ acosf ch.11

Hunting to keep them fed had taught Feyre that skill set. Hunting, while Nesta had stayed home, safe and warm, and let Feyre venture into that forest alone. Those skills Feyre had honed had allowed her to survive against the High Fae and all their terrors, but … Feyre only had them because of what she’d been forced to do. Because Nesta hadn’t been the one to do it. To step up. ~ acosf ch.12

“Feyre taught me how to use a bow.” Only a few lessons, and long ago, but Nesta remembered. It was one of the few times she and Feyre had been allies. ~ acosf ch.12

“Not Feyre.” Nesta hated the words. The way his back stiffened. She couldn’t look at him as she said, “I just …” How could she explain the tangle between her and her sister? The self-loathing that threatened to consume her every time she looked at her sister’s face? ~ acosf ch.16

“I hadn’t realized you were keeping score.” Feyre gave her an exasperated look. “I’m not, Nesta. I just … Do I need an excuse to share things with you? You’re my sister. I wanted to tell you before anyone else. That’s it.” ~ acosf ch.21

Only Feyre had kept them fed and clothed, earning scant amounts for the pelts and meat she hunted. She’d kept them alive. The last time she’d hunted for them, the food had run out the day before. If Feyre hadn’t returned home with meat that night, they either would have had to starve to death or beg in the village. ~ acosf ch.25

Nesta didn’t care if he’d come to help during the final battle with Hybern. Tamlin had hurt Feyre. Unforgivably. ~ acosf ch.25

She’d failed at everything. But she could do this. She’d failed her father, failed Feyre for years before that. ~ acosf ch.29

“...Because you thought Feyre was your property.” Nesta pointed at Tamlin. The ground shook. ~ acosf ch.43

“I can’t believe Feyre ever loved Tamlin.” “Tamlin never deserved her.” Cassian rested a hand on her back. “No.” Nesta again peered into the darkness below. “He didn’t.” ~ acosf ch.43

“Nesta is a wolf who has been locked in a cage her whole life.” ~ acosf ch.44

I knew she was an artist then. The same way Feyre is. But what Feyre does with paint, that’s what Nesta did with music and dance. ~ acosf ch.44

“Feyre doesn’t love me.” She didn’t deserve Feyre’s love. ~ acosf ch.46

And Nesta knew then that she had not once in her life been loved by her mother as much as Feyre already loved the boy growing within her. It broke something in Nesta—broke that rage, that roaring—seeing those tears begin to fall, the fear crumpling Feyre’s paint-smeared face. She had gone too far. She … Oh, gods. ~ acosf ch.46

She had the courage to tell me the truth. She told you the truth to hurt you. Perhaps. But she was the only one who said anything. ~ acosf ch.47

and I would have let us all starve to prove what a wretch he was. It consumed me so much that … that I let Feyre go into that forest and told myself I didn’t care, that she was half-wild, and it didn’t matter, and yet …” She let out a wrenching cry. “I close my eyes and I see her that day she went out to hunt the first time... And now I will see Feyre’s face when I told her that the baby would kill her.” ~ acosf ch.50

“You’ve probably guessed that my residency in the House, my training, my work in the library is my sister’s attempt to help me.” Her sister whom she had still not apologized to, whom she still didn’t have the courage to face. “And I … I think I might be glad Feyre did this for me. The drinking, the males—I don’t miss any of it.” ~ acosf ch.51

and Nesta had heard Feyre’s harrowing tales of visiting the Prison on several occasions. Little frightened her sister... ~ acosf ch.53

Her sister’s eyes slid to her. Nesta swallowed, holding Feyre’s gaze. She prayed that her sister could read the silent words on her face. I am sorry for what I said to you in Amren’s apartment. I am truly sorry. Feyre’s eyes softened. And then, to Nesta’s shock, Feyre answered into her mind, Don’t worry about it. I spoke in anger, and I’m sorry. Feyre’s pause was considerable. Then she said, the words like the first rays of dawn, I forgive you. ~ acosf ch.55

Nesta’s stare drifted to the paint flaking off the walls. The intricate little designs. Cassian followed her stare. “Did Feyre paint that?” Nesta swallowed, and managed to get out, “She painted every chance she got. Any extra coin she managed to save went toward paints.” ~ acosf ch.55

But she nodded at Cassian and sat, saying to Feyre, “Happy birthday.” Feyre smiled again. “Thank you.” And that was that. ~ acosf ch.58

... precisely the sort of room she’d have designed for herself if she’d been given the chance. She had been given the chance, she realized. Feyre had asked, and she’d refused. Apparently, Feyre had done it herself, somehow knowing what she’d like. ~ acosf ch.58

“Despite her faults—and mine—we loved each other dearly. We were all each other had while growing up. She was the only one I could truly rely on. I miss her every day.” Nesta couldn’t stop herself from thinking of Feyre. ~ acosf ch.59

“I know who you are. I’m not stupid enough to go after you.” “It’s the Blood Rite. You’d be forgiven.” “Feyre Cursebreaker would not forgive me for killing her sister.” ~ acosf ch.66

“We didn’t learn archery,” Emerie breathed... But Nesta nocked the arrow in place. Took aim. Right at Gwyn, who eyed the rope tied to the arrow, the other end around the tree and Emerie, and understood. “My sister taught me.” Nesta’s arms trembled as she drew back the string. “A long time ago.” ~ acosf ch.68

Feyre. Feyre, who had gone into the woods for them. Who had saved them so many times. Feyre. Her sister. ~ acosf ch.76

Stroking Feyre’s cold hand, Nesta spoke into the timeless, frozen room, “You loved me when no one else would. You never stopped. Even when I didn’t deserve it, you loved me, and fought for me, and …” Nesta looked at Feyre’s face, Death a breath away from claiming it. She didn’t stop the tears that ran down her cheeks as she squeezed Feyre’s slender hand tighter. “I love you, Feyre.” She had never said the words aloud. To anyone. “I love you,” Nesta whispered again. “I love you.” ~ acosf ch.77

She blinked at Rhys, and then turned to Nesta.“I love you, too,” Feyre whispered to her sister, and smiled. Nesta didn’t stop her sob as she launched herself onto Feyre and embraced her. ~ acosf ch.77

She’d joined them at the river house one night to find a mating present from Feyre waiting for her. Hanging on the wall in the grand entry. A portrait of Nesta, holding the line at the Pass of Enalius… Nesta had stared and stared at her portrait, hung between one of Feyre and one of Elain, and hadn’t realized she was crying until Feyre had held her tightly. ~ acosf ch.80

She found Feyre and Elain waiting halfway down the hill, Nyx now dozing peacefully in Elain’s arms. Her sisters beamed, beckoning her to join. And Nesta smiled back, her steps light as she hurried down the hill to meet them. ~ acosf ch.80

Feyre and ? | pt.1 | pt.2 ...

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War (7)

Summary: Truths are revealed and Reader has to decide what that means for her revenge plans.

Content Warnings: Talks of Past Character Deaths, Blood and Violence

Author's Note: Really building up for more and more angst here, aren't I?

Chapter 6/Masterlist

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Rhysand is gone when I wake up in the morning, the mat beside me cold, the fur not enough to fully keep the chill out. There’s some dried meat and bread laid out beside the mat for me, but he’d tied the tent flap closed whenever he’d left. I pack the food back up and start the familiar process of rolling up the fur and blankets. I have no appetite, and the more monotonous the task, the less I have to think about last night. There was no time to finish the conversation, not with the men scrambling to ensure we had no more surprises. Rhysand hadn’t come back to the tent until long after exhaustion had pulled me under. I was only coherent enough to register the warmth of his body beside mine before I’d fallen back asleep.

I wait until everything is packed, save the tent itself, to slide back into my chest piece. The leather feels heavier today. Everything does, really. I toss my quiver over my head and strap it in place, the silence making the heaviness worse. There are too many thoughts to be had inside this little tent. Too many emotions I don’t want to touch. I sigh as I untie the tent flap and step out into the early morning light. Cassian should have checked in by now, the fact that all the men are still here is a good sign.

A few of the men are already taking down their tents, the small amount of personal supplies piling up near where most of their horses graze. It won't take long for them to be saddled up and on the move again. This is a process that feels as familiar as breathing; I tear down the tent without waiting for Rhysand to come back from wherever it is he and Azriel have wandered off to--their mounts are the only ones missing from the herd but I can't see them over the rocky incline we're perched on.

Perhaps that is for the best. I think if I saw Rhys now I’d throw up. I need the answers, but I don’t know how to face them. I don’t know that I want to believe him. 

I tear down the tent and get it all nice and packed away before I remember that Andras was still alive when I’d fallen asleep last night. A quick glance to where he’d been tied up shows me nothing but a blood stain and all the tears I’d tried to keep at bay last night come flooding to the surface. 

I’m so tired of the bloodshed. Why does it always end this way? Is that all we are? Just brutes that kill and maim until we share the same fate? Is that all life is supposed to be?

I’m spiraling deeper and deeper by the time I hear their horses return and I am grateful I don’t have powers to advertise it to everyone the way their shadows had last night. I make myself busy, hands shaking, as I hear their boots hit the earth as they dismount. Rhys’s eyes are on my back as I tie the rolled up tent, I can feel them like a brand.

What have I done?

He and Azriel separate, one set of footfalls falling away, down the path to confer with the scouts, the other coming my way. It would be weird that I knew him by the sound of his gate if I hadn’t learned early on in life that the best way to stay safe was to mesmerize the sound of everyone’s footsteps. Can’t be underprepared for a fight if you know who’s coming your way. 

Except this time, there’s nowhere to run. All the supplies are packed and they go on his horse. I might as well be chained to the beast.

“Did you eat?” He sounds as tired as he had looked last night and my chest feels like it’s going to cave in on me. 

“Wasn’t hungry,” I mutter as I brush my hands over my pants and turn to face him. I should just rip the bandaid off, right? I

The jasmine and citrus scent of him is overwhelming, invading my senses; I hadn’t realized just how close he was until I’d turned, nearly into his chest. I have to tilt my head back to look him in the eyes--something I really shouldn’t be doing, but he doesn’t have the cowl on today. I must be a sucker for pain, because I want to be able to see his face. 

“Are you ok?” The same shadows that had circled his eyes last night still remain. I’m not sure he slept at all. At least we both feel miserable. Yesterday I might have been happy about it; today I just feel like an asshole.

“I’m-” Cauldron what am I? Certainly not fine, and truth be told, I don’t feel like lying about it. Not to him. Not after all the lies I’ve already spun. 

“If this is about last night…” he pauses, frowning, and gives himself a little shake. “If you’ve changed your mind-”

No, no, no, we definitely cannot be talking about my loyalties! Just because I feel guilty for doing it, doesn’t mean I have to admit to it, right?

“Did you kill Andras?” I blurt instead. It’s the first thing that comes to mind, because looking at him for too long is too damn hard and I keep looking at the blood stain on that tree. And, well I am curious about that. I do want him to tell me no. I want someone, in all of this, to be less of a monster than I thought. 

“Yes,” he says.

My heart plummets into my stomach. 

“He slit Avos’s throat and left his body in a ditch, there were already animals feeding on him by the time we located him.”

I visibly shudder and he cups my cheek in response. “I meant what I said about not liking violence, but there are things I cannot let go unpunished.”

These are his people, those are his fighting men, it is his job as their warlord to protect them, and if he cannot, it’s his duty to avenge them. I know this. I was raised on that belief. But yet I still feel responsible. If I’d never given Tamlin a reason to throw me out, I never would have ended up here, and Lucien never would have had to bring anyone out to try and rescue me. I would have been blind to the truth of my own people, but at least no one would be dead because of me. At least my heart wouldn’t feel like it was trying to rip itself from my chest to avoid all these terrible things that keep happening.

“Come on,” he gently nudges me towards where his horse is waiting, munching on some grass, when I don’t respond. I don’t miss the hurt that flashes across his features at my silence either. “We have to get moving and we have things to discuss.”

I don’t argue as he helps me into the saddle. He settles in behind me, firm and steady and I have never felt so many conflicting feelings towards a person in my life. I don’t want him to touch me until I know the truth of the matter; I need him to hold me and distract me from the reality of the situation. I want to be far away and I never want to leave all the same. 

He calls for his men to get moving and in the span of five minutes, all supplies are packed and stowed and we’re once again moving along the lip of the mountain, a glittering trail of starlight trailing from his hand as he stitches the wards. The pull of his magic is stronger today, I see the ward more clearly, but more than anything I feel it. It makes the hair on my arms stand on end and that thing in my chest stirs again at its response.

It’s a long while before he speaks again. “What did Tamlin tell you about that night?” His voice is subdued, I don’t know if it’s hesitation or the strain or doing this while warding. 

I shiver as I run my fingers absently through the horse’s mane. I don’t even know the animal’s name. I don’t know anything at all, not because no one told me, but because I hadn’t cared enough to ask. “He said you rode in, attacked my parents while they slept…” 

A growl rumbles through his chest at that. 

“He said they were dead by the time he got there and that he managed to fight you off long enough for our men to assemble and they scared the rest of you off.” I run a hand over the scar above my ear. 

 “Why?” 

I twist in the saddle to look at him, nose brushing along the underside of his jaw. He has a scar there I hadn’t noticed, just a little nick like he’d been caught by the tip of a blade just beneath his chin. “Why what?”

“Why did he say I did it?”

“Because you could,” I whisper. “Because you wanted to put us in our place.”

He stiffens. “And you believed him?”

“I-” The truth hovers on the tip of my tongue, too much of it and he’ll see me for what I really am. “Why were you there?”

“I had a sister,” Rhysand whispers. “She was a little younger than you, I think.”

Had. My stomach flips.

“Our people had been meeting to discuss alliances against Amarantha. It was suggested that Tamlin and my sister marry, to unite us.”

I’d never even heard an alliance mentioned. My father hated the Illyrians, even in all my earliest memories. I would have been old enough to be told this was happening, my mother never so much as whispered a possibility that Tam was to marry. 

“I never knew,” the words slip out as that stirring in my chest turns into a cavernous ache that might just split me right down the middle. I never knew any of this. Everyone, my father, my mother, Tamlin, hell even Lucien, lied to me.

“If I had known about you then, I would have suggested us as an alternative. She was never keen on the idea of marriage, but you were one of your father’s well kept secrets.”

Marriage? I sleep with the guy one time and he’s thinking about how he could have married me? I can’t be that good in bed. I think this idea of a mating bond is going to his head.

“It is tradition for mothers and daughters to stay a few nights with a betrothed family to ensure that they are a good fit. I was supposed to go with the convoy to make sure they arrived safely, but I got called out here to help fix a broken ward at the last minute.”

His magic stutters for a moment, as if remembering.

My stomach feels like it’s in my throat. 

“As I was returning to camp, so was their convoy, or what was left of it. We got their heads in boxes.”

Tears drip down my cheeks and those illusive fangs tear right through my gums as what little magic I have flares. 

“We thought it was Amarantha at first. My sister was unmarked so she could be married to someone outside of our clan and my mother…” he clears his throat. “You’ve seen our different crests. The Dark Bringers are what is left of the Night Court’s nobility. Even though they merged with the Illyrians decades ago, they always considered them lesser. They held council and refused my father’s request to mark my mother because of her lowborn status, and insisted he marry another to continue the bloodline. So neither of them bore the protection of the clan and it is Amarantha’s style to attack any unmarked for the fun of it.”

That’s why he was so insistent about me taking his mark in the beginning.

“We were halfway to the Middle, prepared to invade the Imperial City, when one of our spies sent word that there were two sets of Illyrian wings being carted around the Grasslands as trophies.”

There had been a lot of commotion that day, but I’d never seen anything, I’d been inside, dealing with one of my Mother’s episodes before that fight with Tam. I’d conveniently missed every single one of the details I’d needed to see the truth, and I can’t tell for the life of me if it was intentional on either of their parts. This could be a tactic to turn me against Tamlin, couldn’t it? I’d used my own sob story to get inside the camp. But why would he lie now? I’ve already taken his mark, I’ve already slept with him, what would he gain?

“My father intended to kill everyone when we got into camp,” he continues. “He ordered the men to kill everything that moved and burn the rest. I wanted vengeance as much as he did, I will not deny that, but I did talk him down from harming the women and children. Enough innocent blood had been shed. We agreed on that by the time we rode in, but… he was ahead of me and I had gone looking for Tamlin.”

How the hell was Tam even alive after something like this?

“In retribution, my father killed your mother first,” he swallows hard, remembering that detail, and I feel the tears fall anew down my cheeks. “I don’t know why he changed his mind or if he only said he wouldn’t so I wouldn’t stick so close to him. We never really saw eye to eye and there isn’t a day I don’t wish that I had stuck with him when we rode through camp. I could have stopped him. I could have…”

He could have saved her. 

“I’m sorry,” his breath is warm on my face as he whispers in my ear. “I’m so sorry.”

“I gave up trying to find Tamlin in the chaos when I heard her scream, but I was too late. By the time I got there, your father had managed to run my father through, but not fast enough to keep his own head from rolling off his shoulders. They died together.”

“And Tamlin?” I ask softly.

“It is tradition to bury a warlord with his sword. I took my father’s sword and I left him there. He had dishonored our traditions in killing your mother, and the Illyrians would see it as a weakness that he died alongside his enemy. So I took his sword and decided that my first act as warlord would be kill Tamlin and merge what was left of your people with mine. I would not abandon the women and children, they could come live in the valley if they took my mark and swore fealty. Except I found Tamlin and Lucien, not fighting, but trying to burn what was left of my mother’s wings.”

How could they have done this? Tam could be cold and cruel but this was… horrific! And Lucien? Lucien who had always said that he and Tam would have made better poets than warriors? Lucien who had often joked that the three of us should run away and start a traveling music group?

“I nearly killed Lucien,” he continues. “Truth be told, I thought I had.”

That was one of the few things I did know. He’d been in a coma for a week.

“And I had Tamlin by the throat, but…” his hand tightens around my waist. “I heard someone calling for him, and for a moment, it sounded like when my sister would call for me. I think it might have been you, now that I’ve gotten to hear your voice. But I never saw you. I just… I realized that if I killed him, I would leave someone alone, as I had become. And I didn’t want to start out my time as Warlord by doing that. So I offered him a truce.”

Gods, I’d saved Tam by pure accident, by being so distraught that I’d done exactly what I’d always been told not to do and had yelled for him in the chaos. Worse, Tam was alive because Rhys had been the better male and in response to that mercy, he’d made Rhys out to be the monster to hide what he had done. 

“We wouldn’t kill each other that night, or otherwise, and we would go our separate ways. As long as neither of us raised a hand to the other, our clans would leave each other alone.”

I don’t want to believe that Tam is capable of such atrocities, but the longer I am away from him, the more I realize just how scared of him I have been my entire life. It is not that he has done terrible things, but that deep down I was always scared he was capable of them. I walked on eggshells around him to avoid his anger. He’d lash out and throw things, push me around, belittle me, but he’d never scarred me like my father, and yet, deep down I knew there was a chance he could be pushed to those extremes, I’d just, never dared acknowledge it. Somehow, I’d always rationalized his outbursts as my fault. I pushed him. I gave him too hard a time. I was being too demanding or making too much work for him. I had not let myself consider that maybe I was not the problem in our relationship. 

“Maybe I made a mistake in letting him live,” he says. “I just… I didn’t want to turn out like my father. I wanted to be better.”

What have I done? I wish the ground would open up and swallow me. Despite every reason to be the monster everyone always made him out to be, he was a good male. And I turned out to be my father’s daughter. 

I slide my hand over his, intertwining our fingers. “You are the better male, Rhys.”

He squeezes my hand in return as his chin drops onto my shoulder. He has to be exhausted from warding and Lucien and keeping watch over the camp last night. The burden of carrying it alone must be astronomical. 

“I’m sorry for all of it, I truly didn’t know any of it,” I say.

“Can I ask you something?” 

Please no!

“Yes.”

We reach a creek that flows down from the mountain peak. In winter it might be little more than an ice bed, but for now, it is just warm enough for the water to still flow down into the grassy plains beyond. 

We stop to let the horses drink, Rhysand helping me off the horse to stretch my legs, his great wings flaring out behind him, as he asks, “Why did you stay, if you thought I had killed them?”

I debate on if the creek is deep enough to drown myself in for a moment. Probably wouldn’t get very far. Especially since he’s standing chest to chest with me.

“I-” I can’t tell him the truth now. If he were to find out what I had planned to do, he’d throw me out! I’d be on my own all over again. I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, go back to Tam, not after this. But now that I know the truth, I truly have nowhere to go. If he were to throw me out, I’d be on my own in the Wastes forever. No family. No shelter. No one. 

I don’t know who I’m supposed to be or what I’m supposed to do, but I can’t be alone again. I won’t survive out there!

The guilt may very well eat me alive, but he can’t ever know. “I wanted to see for myself what kind of male you are.”

He cups my cheek, “And what have you decided?”

There is one truth I can give him. “That there’s a lot more to you than I was told, and I’d like to know you better.”

He grins and my heart drops into my stomach. When he kisses me, I kiss him back, hands threading through his thick hair. I won’t ruin his life, he deserves to have something good and happy after all the pain my family has brought to him; I just have to lie to give it to him. I’m already in this deep, is there really any going back now?

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