#azriel x afab!reader

[solbaby7]

I love your work, and I’ve been creeping on your master list and it’s so good 😭❤️❤️❤️… pls do one with Azriel and AFAB reader who finds out first that they’re true mates but says nothing at all, too scared that he’ll reject her cause he’s in love with Elain and she witnesses the whole necklace gifting/almost kiss between them and runs away, tries to avoid both of them for days and gets sick or injured or something and that’s when Az realizes it too and smut ensues 🫶😭❤️

Since You Have A Lover

pairing : azriel x afab!reader

warnings: angst babe, torture too (oops👀🤣), not proofread, swearing, probs typos, mild smut at the end, testing out the longer fics and then we’re gonna figure out if longer or shorter is better 🫣

thank you for the request bean! i switched it up a little to add some much needed angst but i’m so happy you’ve been enjoying 💗💗

oh and…educate a girl. wtf is afab?👀 respectfully ofc

—

Deep breaths and a lowered gaze is how you make it through family dinners as your stomach lurches uncomfortably.

The feeling never got easier, even after months of enduring the debilitating emotions that ensued from watching your mate love another.

It’s instinctual to be jealous—to compare yourself to Elain when Azriel refused to tear his eyes away. He was supposed to be your equal and yet the longer dinner went on with overhearing their hushed conversation and not-so-sneaky touches under the table; you felt anything but suitable in comparison.

Drowning those thoughts is surprisingly easy, a plethora of wine bottles are scattered about the table and not a single person bats an eye when you snatch one up for yourself. They’re too caught up in each other to realize you’ve slipped away; abandoning the suffocating love that permeated from every direction besides your own.

Fresh air helps a little, the stolen bottle of wine aiding in keeping you warm from the unforgiving nighttime chill. Eventually the cool bite doesn’t send shivers down your spine and you barely even flinch when bare skin meets cold stone, your gaze dipping down to lively town below.

Time moves too quickly as the observer, seconds bleeding into minutes until hours have passed and the bottle has nothing left to offer. There’s a brief moment where your foggy brain contemplates the effort it would take to retrieve another when your solitude is broken.

Two bodies burst through the balcony doors on the furthest side, mostly concealed by trees and flowers but you’d recognize those wings anywhere. A hand smacks over your mouth to conceal any sound, body freezing in place as you witness Azriel press Elain into the wall, his hands cradling the sides of her face lovingly.

A part of you shatters when you catch that sparkle in his eye, the eagerness in his movement to have her closer until her cheeks go flush and thick lashes flutter closed in preparation for the sweet kiss Azriel is sure to grant her.

You’re unable to stomach another moment and neither of them even flinch when you shuffle from your spot and make a bee-line for the exit. Tears cloud your vision, shoulders shaking and steps unsteady as you all but run through the halls, darting up the stairs and colliding right into another body. “Oh,” The startled sound is all but whimpered out of you and red eyes and splotchy cheeks are the first thing Nesta sees as you look up. “Gods, I’m sorry.” You scramble to your feet, retrieving the book she’d dropped in the collision. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching here I was going.”

“That’s not like you.”

A weak smile quirks at the corner of your mouth, unbound hair in unruly strands down your shoulders. “I’m not quite myself at the moment.”

Nesta hums in response, slender arms crossing over her chest and the fabrics of her nightgown shifts with the motion. Her gaze is scrutinizing, picking apart the truth from the lies and you’re infinitely grateful that she doesn’t call you out on your state of disarray. “Want me to walk you to your room?”

“No.” You whisper, hastily wiping your cheeks and attempting to smooth down stray hairs and wrinkled silks. “No, I think I’m going to go for a walk instead. I could use the fresh air.”

“It’s three in the morning.”

Nesta's neck cranes, slowly turning on the balls of her feet as you swiftly slip past her and make way for your chambers. Perhaps, it's the defeated slump of your shoulders that catches Lady Death's attention; that emptiness in your eyes that couldn't even be filled by the overflowing tears that stained your cheeks.

She considers waking Cassian--he always was better equipped to handle the emotions of others but you're already gone, disappearing behind the door without even saying goodnight. Something about the interaction forces her to linger, smutty book long forgotten as she waits to see you creep out that same room ten minutes later.

You're dressed to better accommodate the weather now. Thick leathers insulating body heat while subconsciously providing much needed compression--the tight fabric mimics comfort in its attempt to hold together the broken bits of you shoved inside.

Nesta's lips part, a million possible words resting at the tip of her tongue but you're quick to intercept, tone numb and alarmingly empty. "Don't wait up."

--

Being alone was supposed to be relaxing.

Distracting, at the very least.

But, all you could feel was the cool prickle of awareness at the back of your neck the whole time you sat at the edge of the mountains that overlooked the Sidra. Each time you'd slow your breathing and attempt to regulate the unusual beat of your heart with the captivating view of Velaris at night. While most were inside, the homes that resided there were full of life; lights glowing golden through their windows, laughs ebbing through the woodwork and creating a sense of serenity that refuses to wash over you as well.

Eyes narrow, shoulders squaring and fingers twitch for the sharp daggers strapped to your thighs. The thick trees you’d come through seems far less attractive now, branches craning out like grabbing hands with gaps of murky darkness that resembled giant mouths waiting to swallow you up. “Nesta?”

The chuckle that breaks through the clearing is anything but feminine. “Not quite.”

It happens too fast--the hand that smacks over your mouth to mute the startled scream that rips free. You push against the solid wall of a body stationed behind you, attempting to sway his stability in order to break free but a sharp sting in your neck renders you still.

The burn that follows is instant and before you can stop it, the unforgiving darkness becomes all you know.

--

The palpable tension at breakfast is suffocating.

Azriel's seething brood casts angsty shadows along his strong build, creating a visible wall between himself and his High Lord after the stern conversation he was forced into the night before. It runs on repeat in the shadow singers mind, the order given to back off on his affections towards the middle Archeron sister.

It seems cruel. A sick form of punishment that Azriel can't quite wrap his mind around because who was really in charge of the tragectory of his life? Azriel ? Or his High Lord?

The mere thought has his teeth grinding in silent contempt, his gaze flickering around the table before landing on the bare spot directly across from him. His brows furrow, confusion briefly sweeping away the rage as he considers the time--your usual schedule and the words leave his mouth before he can stop them. "Where is she?"

A brief pause, the casual conversation slowing to a halt until Azriel catches a glimpse of something on Nesta's face--a strain of guilt he'd seen a million times on a trillion different faces. "Left earlier this morning." Polished silverware scrapes at fine china, pushing aside food that her body refuses to indulge in. "Said she was going for a walk."

Discontentment settles into Azriel's bones--a feeling he struggles to understand and Nesta's answer only exasperates the unsteady sensation.

"In this weather?" Grey clouds are thick in the sky, shades of slate and granite completely masking the sun as relentless rains pour down from above. "When was this?"

"Around three."

Cassian swears lowly from beside his mate, a sturdy hand resting at her shoulders but the regret lacing his features speaks plenty about the decision to stay quiet for so long. It was too dangerous, especially after the last few meetings Rhys had with Kier in Hewn. Change took time and the Steward and his men were complaining about that change taking too long. Hateful words were thrown in the name of the people of Hewn City and how they had desires too; dreams of a better world for themselves and their children but the High Lord’s better judgement rose question to the other consequences that could arise from giving what they were asking for. "Ness that was nearly eight hours ago."

The screech of Azriel's chair draws attention, a sudden boost of fuel being injected in his veins. "Did she tell you where she was going exactly?"

Nesta’s tone turns into vitriol, a subconscious reaction to the guilt that gnawed at her bones for not seeking for you sooner after finding you in your state. The reminder of tears streaming down your face flashes behind her eyelids; the choppiness of your words through labored breathing. How desperately you’d attempted to wrangle it together just long enough to make it to your room and suddenly the eldest Archeron feels that familiar uselessness creep beneath her skin. “She didn’t leave me a map with a drawn out route—she just said she needed air.”

“While crying?” It wasn’t intentional, Rhysand seeing the flash of memory that Nesta had unknowingly projected; her mental walls caving for just a fraction of a minute before the iron doors had regained their formidable security. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Silverware clatters against the table, staining table linen in strawberry jam but no one seems to give a shit when the severity of the situation behinds to settle over the room. Nesta runs a hand against the material of her dress, smoothening out wrinkles and creases in order to avoid all of the eyes settling over her face. “I was just going to the library to read and we bumped into each other. She came from the balcony—I offered to walk her to her room but she just…” A sigh pulls free, jaw setting tightly. “I let her go.”

“Nesta.” Feyre’s slow shake of her head holds enough disappointment to have Nesta’s shoulders squaring on the defensive.

“I’m not some evil bitch, I waited up!” She seethes, the beginnings of those silver flames lapping at the steely grey of her eyes but the fight within isn’t truly directed towards Feyre or anyone else but herself. Because she’d felt the exact moment that you walked from the doors and winnowed away, that she’d made a grave mistake. Nesta’s shoulders sag, fingers bunching unforgivingly into the inky linen cloth until she felt the tips of her nails digging into the polished mahogany underneath. “I waited.”

Azriel’s already out of the room without a word.

He didn’t have a right to shame her because Azriel had a feeling he knew what sent you running.

His teeth grind together when thinking back to the night before when he and Elain had scuffled off onto the balcony at the witching hour; hoping their sins would be shielded by the dark cast of night. Too caught up in one another to consider another already occupying the space.

And, no matter how many times Azriel brushed his fingertips over the soft curve of Elain’s cheeks or vyed for a fleeting touch when passing in the hallways—the kiss he thought he wanted lacked the spark he was sure would flicker to life when lips grazed.

He’d pulled away so abruptly, brows furrowing in a stark line discontentment that was visible to anyone with eyes and then he heard the broken whimper of a gasp.

It’s been too easy to pass it off as Elain and far easier for him to forget about it altogether after Rhysand had found an embarrassed Elain rushing back to her room with flushed cheeks and an unsteady gait. He’d never heard his brother shout so loud, the veins in his neck protruding as he ordered Azriel to never even look her way again. That if a quick fuck in the dead of the night was what he desired then Azriel should wander along the cobblestone streets of Velaris and find himself a suitable pleasure house and pay for it.

The words act as fuel, Azriel’s senses working on overdrive; shadows scrying for information faster than ever before until they’d returned with something he could work with.

Dropped neatly in his palms were the cool steel of your twin blades that never left the secure holsters forever strapped to your thighs.

And they were soaked in your blood.

—

You recognized the suffocating dank smell that tended to fester when stuffed so far beneath the earth—the perfect dungeon.

One you’d been in countless times before, wearing that shadowy mask of indifference when masquerading as the soulless monster that became necessary to survive while in Hewn City. It took decades of assistance by Azriel’s side; an apprentice of sorts when the bounds of your affections had just begun testing its limits—wondering to see just how far you’d go just to be near him.

To get him to notice you. Your mate. Yours. Yours.

All of that seems so foolish now. Insignificant compared to the dire situation you’d found yourself entangled in.

Sharp twinges of pain throb up your neck, aches settling in from the uncomfortable position and it’s a strain when you shift in attempts to take in your surroundings. Fear lurches in your chest when your hands don’t move, restrained by chains that had you hung up like a prized hog after a fresh hunt.

Not good. Not good. Not good. So, not good.

“I always did love that look.” Immediately your spine goes ramrod straight, fingers clenching into fists over the cool bite of the chains as that voice washed over you like a bucket of water. Refreshing on your own terms and a horrible wake up call when it wasn’t. “When panic shifts into realization—truly a sight worth capturing. Especially when attached to such a delicate disposition.”

Delicate?

You’d never once used that word in ordinance to yourself.

Hearing it now, under such circumstances makes your heart lurch, it’s beat untamed against your ribcage and it takes every bit of strength left to smooth that look of utter calm across your features. “Come a little closer, let me show you how sweet I can get.”

The underlying threat is easily palpable and Kier is wise not to follow the bait; aware of the wounded animals ability to put up a considerable fight and he’s too coward to brawl fairly. “As tempting as that is, it won’t be me who plays with you tonight.” Your teeth bare into a snarl, pure promise rumbling from your chest and the sound encourages a chuckle from the male.

He’s not close enough to injure; to swing the brunt of your weight around for a well-timed kick that you knew would disable long enough to figure a way out of these damn restraints. But even with the distance between you, the resemblance between this male and Mor was striking. She’d inherited the shape of his lips, even if the words she spoke were far sweeter than the shit spewed from her predecessor. More similarities are spotted during your scrutinizing evaluation of him; the line of his nose, the shade of his hair, the confident air that oozed from his form—no matter how misplaced it was.

“I’ll kill anyone who dares lay a finger on me.”

“So much fight in you,” Kier all but croons, his eyes raking across your body in a way that was less than savory. “I can’t wait to see how long it lasts.”

Breathe.

Years of training beside the spymaster had prepared you for this very moment and it’s easier to drift back into the memory of just another session; before things had gotten so complicated and he’d just been a friend eager to teach if you were willing to learn. Countless times you’d been in a similar situation—you, waking up tied up to some chair with ropes securing every possible joint in place and Azriel would leave you there as long as it took for you to figure your way out of it.

Allow the thrum of your heart be the beat that keeps you focused.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

Relax and take in your surroundings. Notice things no one else thinks is important because that could be the one thing that keeps you from an untimely death.

The cell wasn’t very large, four stone walls covered in grime and mildew with just enough space for two grown men to fit semi-comfortably. No windows. One door with a thin slot at the top large enough for two eyes to peer inside. No fire. No light. No warmth. No breeze, just stale, dank air that tasted of iron when your breathed in too deep.

Just stay alive long enough to get help.

“What do you want from me?”

Kier inhales a greedy breath, his chest expanding in the ornate armor worn. It glistens even with no light—proving that even with his privileged title, he was never the one who got his hands dirty. “Many things,” He finally confessed, the words airy and nonchalant. He’s too cocky. Too comfortable. “But first, I want you to tell me about the Cursebreakers sisters.” He dares a step closer, arms crossed casually behind his back as a dark look begins to worm its way into his eye. “I want you to tell me everything you know about the Made ones and the power they stole from the Cauldron.”

Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.

Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.

Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A smile works its way across his face—one so familiar it taints good memories with its stain. “I hoped you’d say that.” Kier walks past, the smell of his cologne burning your nostrils and you couldn’t imagine ever smelling tobacco and ash, bergamot and oakmoss without gagging ever again.

One knock on the thick steel door and slender male with hair like soot and eyes like a raven enters.

Your face remains a blank slate. Even as you take in the rubber material of his apron and the sturdy material of his leather boots. Well used gloves cover his hands and tucked under his left arm is a rawhide holder filled to the brim with all kinds of terrifying treats.

Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.

“Who are you?”

He takes his sweet time answering. Making a show of neatly setting down the holder and undoing the braided leather straps holding it in place. “You can call me the Butcher—everyone else does.”

“How original.” A thick swallow to quell the nerves; to shove away the shake that threatened to disturb your carefully curated cadence. The chains rattle as you shift, the tips of your toes just barely skimming the cool ground beneath you but not quite enough to relieve your wrists of the burden of bearing the entirety of your weight. “Well, Butcher—come make yourself useful and loosen my chains, will you? It’s starting to chafe a bit.”

His head shakes in his denial, barely acknowledging the departing Steward and the heavy thud of the shutting door—a lock sliding into place. “You don’t really want me to do that.” For donning such a threatening title, the Butcher is deceivingly soft-spoken. It sends your nerves into a fritz, triggering your fight or flight and for the first time since your eyes had opened and the darkness had waned; that delicately woven web of control slips from your grasp. “If you’re as stubborn as I think you are,” The sharp ring of metal twangs through the air and in his grasp is a perfectly polished knife a little too curved to be considered a scalpel. “You’ll need something to hold onto. It helps with the pain…for a time.”

Breathe.

“Then let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

Butcher chuckles low under his breath, full lips concealed by an ever fuller beard—the only thing about him that wasn’t perfectly trim and proper. “Not a fan of foreplay?”

Fingers curl around the cool bite of thick chains, your chest rising and falling in a steady pattern as you began to dissociate. An attempt to keep your mind as protected as possible from whatever was to come. “I’m more of a rip-the-bandaid kind of girl.”

Death clings to the pristinely polished rubber of his apron, the creak of his gloves filling the space as worn fingers ready around the hilt of his weapon. “You know,” Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. Disappear off into that numb place deep, deep within your mind. Ignore the bite of the blade poking around already sensitive wounds. “Under entirely different circumstances, I think I might’ve actually liked you.”

The switch flips so fast—too fast for you to catch but it’s impossible to miss the devastating burn that ripples through you as flesh is severed, muscle flayed and so, so much blood spilled.

It’s hard to keep track of how much time passes down here without access to windows and you’re certain that it’s intentional, aiding in the psychological aspect of their torture.

Relax and take in your surroundings. Notice things no one else thinks is important because that could be the one thing that keeps you from an untimely death.

The masculine baritone of Azriel’s teachings repeated like a mantra in your mind until it becomes the only thing distracting you from the sound of your flesh tearing, your blood drip, drip, dripping a misshapen puddle beneath you.

You force yourself to keep conscious, mentally noting anything your eyes are able to latch onto. Insignificant things; ebony hair, umber skin, a brand burned into the middle of Butcher’s left wrist in a symbol half-obscured by his gloves.

There’s a block on your powers, not quite faebane in its most lethal dose but paired with the wards humming against the walls, you knew using magic wouldn’t be an option for you. “Tell me about the Made ones and I can stop.”

“I don’t know anything.”

Just stay alive long enough to get help.

“You live there with them,” Butcher goads, crooked teeth exposed when gritted into that grimace of a sneer. Leather creaks under the playful twist of his wrist, the sharpened blade carving at muscle and obliterating sinew until you swear it reaches bone. “You share drink and food, you fight beside them in battle and you expect us to believe that secrets aren’t shared as well?” Every breath is ragged, a sheen of sweat coating your skin and unruly hair sticks to the curve of your neck. “Tell me what you know before I decide to get a little more creative in my methods.”

“Even if I did know anything, why the hell would I tell you? What would Hewn scum do with such knowledge?”

Your words have nicked a nerve, robbing the Butcher of that soft-spoken charm and replacing it with something more sinister. “You say the same thing to that bastard Illyrian you’re always seen around?”

A brow quirks, furrowing ever so slightly as it became more and more apparent that this was more than some spur of the moment kidnapping. Their questions, the desire to keep you immobile and battered but not enough to render you unconscious—not enough to be fatal. For whatever reason, they needed you alive and judging by the desperation that claws its way to the edges of Butchers voice, his curses and demands falling on deaf ears as your mind runs on overdrive to accumulate all the information you could before it was too late.

Each breath grows more labored, lashes fluttery and thick with exhaustion but just when it feel like too much—when you feel like giving up and succumbing to the sweet oblivion.

The rake of talons brushes against your mental walls. A cautious prod, testing your durability and utter relief washes over you when that feline lilt floods your consciousness. “We’re coming, just stay awake.”

The syllables barely reach your ears, sound faded by the obnoxious ringing that refused to subside—a side affect from all the fucking screaming and shouting. Swears slurring together the longer you snapped at the male before you, knees jerking and wounds barking in agony when the heel of your foot smashes so hard into his nose, his skull caves in; limp body dropping to the floor with a thud.

It’s all the strength you have in you and the death-grip you have around the chains is released all at once. Time moves in slow motion as you dangle there, vision darkening at the edges and that thrum of your heartbeat loud enough to distract you anymore. “Rhys they want— they want…”

So much blood oozes from your wounds, drenching your leathers all the way through and you were definitely feeling the affects. Your vision blurs, lids going lazy with just enough time to hear that voice—Azriel’s voice bellowing your name. “Stay alive.” He mutters over and over and over when he’s finally reached you, adrenaline pumping so high that he breaks the chains from their bolt with nothing more than his bare hands. “Do you hear me? Don’t you dare fucking die on me.”

You swear you try to obey the command, desiring nothing more than to keep Azriel's attention after finally being front and center in it. But it just felt so safe held in his grasp, tucked so close to his chest while he rids you of your restraints and applies pressure to gaping wounds.

All you wanted was one second. If you closed your eyes just for a second to gather your wits then you'd wake up and everything would be okay.

It sounds like a good idea-- so good that you allow the peace to wash over you like a cool tide washing over the shore in the early days of the burning summer; ignoring the desperate shouts from a vignette of voices that fades in the background like the haunting final notes of a song.

—

Confusion crashes at you in unforgiving waves, memories --or were they dreams?-- flash behind your lids with each blink. A dull throb pounds behind your lids, aggravating your mental shields to the point where you feel them wobble with each breath.

"You should stay still." Azriel's saying without giving you time to clear through the dense fog plaguing your mind. Instead, he busies his hands with fussing over your blankets, carefully tucking bare toes and pressing a five finger grip on your sternum when you attempt to rise from the soft cushion of a mattress that certainly did not belong to you. "It took Madja a while to get you all stitched up. Are you in pain? She left ointments and a few tinctures."

He's graceful enough not to mention the owlish blink of your eyes and their befuddled examination of his room until the crackly rasp of your voice cuts through the space; both of you refusing to address the elephant in the room. "My head hurts a little."

"Yeah," Shadows fuss with warm rags, sweeping it over your forehead and dabbing it along your cheeks while others occupy themselves with filling a glass of water to offer. "Rhys will be by later to apologize for that, I'm sure."

Your brows furrow deeply, nose scrunching when you sip your water. "Apologize for what?"

"You were in distress. We thought you were going to--" Azriel abruptly cuts himself off, fingers curling into fists at his sides. "Rhys went in your mind, said that before you'd gone unconscious that you were trying to tell him something that seemed urgent enough to bypass the usual request to wait for permission."

Your heart begins to pick up speed in your chest and suddenly the desire to rise from this bed and run away was becoming horribly intense. Legs shift under the weight of a duvet that didn't belong to you, attempting to hide the way your sore muscles sink into the overwhelming scent of night-chilled mist. "Okay...and what did he see?"

"He saw you get taken," Azriel turns his back to you, expertly avoiding your eyes but the nervous energy buzzing off his skin was unmistakable. "He watched them carve you up and torture you for information about Nesta and Elain." The stabilizing breath he takes shakes his shoulders, the strong line of muscle barely concealed by the tight stretch of his leathers--leathers still stained in the blood of those who'd spilled yours, no doubt. "Rhys said that you didn't say a word. You didn't give them a thing."

"That's good, right?" A pillow is fluffed behind you, shadows doting on every need. "Then, why do you sound so upset?"

"Why do I sound so upset?" Azriel cruelly mocks, his aurate gaze positively smoldering with rage when they land on you. "Because, you almost died! You almost died in my fucking arms before I ever got the chance to—. What the hell were you thinking?"

The beating you'd endured does nothing to quell your fiery spirit, eyes lighting with life and lips running a mile a minute—too fast for your logical brain to keep up with. "I was thinking that they wanted information on your precious, little girlfriend." You all but spit out, childishly pushing away the comfort the duvet from your legs as you attempt to shuffle from Azriel's bed without disturbing the tight wrap of your bandages. Why the hell were you in here anyway? "I was thinking that maybe, it'd be easier for them to fucking butcher me rather than watch what would happen to you if it were Elain there in my place."

Silence stretches along the hardwood floor, cloaking up the length of the walls and muting out the low crackle of the fireplace; its flame gentle and calm in the midst of an emotional storm. "I almost wish you would've let it be her." Azriel fills the void, finally mustering up the courage to face you. "I could've survived that and whatever consequences came along with it because my mate takes precedence above all."

Just like that, all the spitfire you’d prepared in retaliation absolutely dissipates after hearing those two words. “Your mate.”

Azriel doesn’t confirm with words. Instead, he searches inside for the humming gold thread wrapped taut around his ribs, just above his heart and pulls. Fucking yanking at it with all his might and something sparkles in his eye when your body jerks in retaliation.

“You know?”

“How long have you known?”

Your heartbeat hammers against your ribcage, threatening to carve out a hole if that’s what it took to get to its other half. “A while.”

“And you’ve said nothing.” He says, tone sounding almost defeated. “Why wouldn’t you have said anything?”

“Because, Az,” The shadows have seized their tireless caretaking, sliding back into place beside their master as you lose the ability to accept the tender affection. “You wouldn’t have chosen me. Not before Mor and certainly not before Elain.” You’re quick to bristle over that part, not leaving any room for the spymaster to interrupt no matter how expressive his face became. “Besides, the bond is a choice not a burden and that’s what it would’ve been for you if I spoke up about it.” Pure determination is what allows you to bear the brunt of your weight , willing yourself to appear strong in the face of the male who could render you to cinders if he so pleased. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d really like to shower the dungeon smell off of me.”

A childish whine of a noise is ripped from your throat when Azriel huffs out a breath, murmuring something about you being stubborn as hell before carefully picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom. It's embarrassing, a furious blush burning at the apples of your cheeks as he starts the shower, adjusts the temperature and slowly sets you down. "Thank you for that but you don't have to do this. I can handle cleaning myself."

"You can barely stand on solid ground on your own."

"I'll manage."

"I know. What I'm saying is that you don't have to." You nearly faint on the spot when Azriel crouches down in front of you, his hands shaky but sure when unlatching the difficult ties of your fighting leathers. His teeth grit together when the fabric is loosened and carefully worked down your thighs, over your knees and tugged away from your ankles. "Just let me help."

Azriel is nothing short of respectful, you notice. He doesn't sneak salacious peeks at the endless expanse of bare skin that he exposes. Doesn't once mention the tremble of your breath or the way your fingers seem to bite into the flesh of his arms whenever a new article of clothing is removed and dropped to the floor. Even after he's eased you into the shower stream; standing before him, perfectly presented on a soaking wet platter—he keeps his eyes trained on your face.

Shadows thicken over sensual bits, providing a shield between you and the male diligently applying soap to rag. Each drag of the slightly rough material against your skin releases a tension you hadn’t noticed you’d been carrying and all you can do is watch as he rids your skin of the thick film left behind when magic was used to clear away muck.

Eons must past before words are spoken, a this time Azriel is more intentional when he chooses them--more intimate when he relays them. "I'd always hoped for a mate. Ever since I was a boy and my mother told me stories about two halves scouring the world to finally become whole again." You're malleable under his care, pliant when he lifts your arms to scrub underneath and damn-near boneless when he turns you with slippery hands to slowly work the knots from your back. "I had always hoped that one day, I too, would find my equal." Azriel clears his throat, returning back from whatever memory he'd been sucked into but the massage doesn't stop; it only drags lower. "Then so much time had passed and I started to wonder if I couldn't find them because I wasn't being forward enough but that only lead to misplaced affections and unfulfillment."

"Azriel, I'm not sure if I really understand--"

"I felt something for you—something stronger than friendship but I pushed it away. I ignored it and looked elsewhere because I can bare not being as close with Mor and it’s as easy as breathing to never see Elain again but losing you—ruining the peace I feel when I’m with you would’ve broken me.”

Tears well in your eyes, a thickness welling in the back of your throat and your skin burns where his fingers touch, lingering near the dip of your back and just barely curling around the curve of your hips. “Az, you don’t have to say any of this to make me feel better. I just wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy.”

“Then, please don’t reject it.” His warmth ripples over every inch of you, your neck craning to make room for the forehead he helplessly drops in the crux of your shoulder. The perfect line of his nose drags along the curve of it, inhaling the soothing notes of your scent mixed with his body wash. “Don’t reject me—this is all I’ve ever wanted.” Finally his fingers curl around your hips, the grip gentle but oh, so claiming. “Can’t you feel it? This rightness.”

Raw emotion swims in the amber tones of Azriel’s eyes when you turn in his arms; searching within those rich shades to find any detection of a lie.

Not one reaches your radar.

The line of your vision drops, creeping down his nose until it fixates on the plush pink of his lips. Instinct takes over, offering a gentle nudge until the space between two is eaten up and breath becomes shared as a line was about to be crossed—a prophecy fulfilled.

When Azriel’s lips finally brush against yours, it’s like a coil snaps, unleashing an animal he hadn’t known existed. Sure, he had plenty of experience with childish crushes and boyish infatuation. But this, Cauldron, it nearly takes his breath away with its intensity—the burning desire that rips through his veins like a forrest fire.

One kiss bleeds into two hands desperate to acquaint themselves with your body until all that mattered was you, your spymaster and the sentient shadows protectively surrounding you both. “Azriel,” You all but keen in his ear, chest heaving and hips rolling into the hardness of him pressed against you.

“Mate.”

A whimper cuts through your throat, neck craning to make space for the perfect bruises he was sucking into the skin there. “I want you.”

“You have me,” He promises over the frantic beat of your heart, tongue laving over the soft fat of your breasts. “Even when my bones are rotting in the dirt, I’ll belong to you. My mate. Mine.”

[yearning-for-autumn]

So, here is my humble request 👀:

Reader is afab Illyrian, got her wings clipped (because we hate this tradition that’s why and because I am too much into enemies to lovers) and the Bat Boys consider her something close to a little sister.

When Eris was making a deal with the NC to get their help to kill Beron and that shit, his bond snapped with reader.

Obviously problematic for him because he has been insulting Illyrians since his mom popped him out about 500+ years ago.

So…bonus points for: smut obvs.- go as filthy as you like, Lucien absolutely mocking Eris for FUMBLING desperately to get his charm going, reader being oblivious.

I hope this sparks some ideas and creativity 🥰🤞🏻

Would That I -- Part 1

A/n: This was too good not to make into a multi-part fic, so expect more soon. Smut will be coming!

Pairing: Eris X Illyrian!Reader

Warnings: Allusions to smut, pining, mentions of mental health

Word Count: 3,638

Summary: You hate him. You hate the very thought of him. And yet he's your mate. The Mother has a cruel sense of humour.

Part 2 Part 3

Fury rippled through your body like a forest fire. You were livid. And Cassian had the nerve to laugh at you. Well, stifle a laugh. Rhysand was watching him with a worried look as he tried to give him a silent warning to stop. This progressed to warning him mind to mind when you got up from the sofa, flinging a pillow so far it almost landed into the fireplace. Azriel flinched.

“Him!?” You seethed, finally breaking the silence you had kept since your return from that damned High Lord meeting. Cassian snorted softly and you rounded on him with a deathly calm. Rhys made a small noise in the back of his throat.

“Is this funny to you, brother? I’m shackled to that evil, pompous, ginger-haired freak and you’re laughing?” His smile had dropped and a look of fear was quickly overcoming his rugged features. You stepped closer to him, your finger in his face. “Don’t sleep too deeply tonight.”

Rhysand cleared his throat.

“Look, this doesn’t have to be the end of the world. You don’t have to accept the bond. We can make sure you never see him again.” The bond snarled through you at that and you growled.

“Sure Rhys, because you were so calm when you found out Feyre was your mate.”

His brow furrowed.

“So you want to be with Eris?” The name seemed to physically disgust him. Azriel scoffed, abruptly rising from the sofa and marching out of the room. Cassian eyed the doorway in his wake. You turned to Rhys.

“No!” You groaned in frustration, pacing up and down on the carpet like a caged animal. Cassian’s eyes darted between Rhys and you. Finally deciding to break things up he manhandled you into a hug. You fought it for a few moments, before giving up and collapsing into your brothers embrace, hot angry sobs wrenching through you. Rhys took this as his cue to leave, and winnowed—probably to his office—out of the room. Cassian rubbed soothing circles on your back, careful to avoid your wings that were ever more sensitive after the clipping.

You were clipped at thirteen, which is how you had come to live with the three brothers. In Windhaven, they clipped your wings the day you started your cycle. Once grounded there was no escaping your duties, nor any chance to leave the camp. Unless, of course, you had grown close with the High Lord’s son, who had a mother with a habit of collecting strays.

You were there through all of it, the highs, the lows, and Morrigan’s tumultuous relationship with one Eris Vanserra. The male you were now mated to.

---

In the Forest House, Eris was pacing. His throat was still sore from the memory of Azriel’s scarred hand, and his cheek burned from the slap that had earned him from his father. But all of that had been overshadowed. He knew as soon as he saw you. His heart had lurched in his chest so hard he had thought he might throw up. You were the most beautiful female he had ever laid his eyes on. And of course, you were from the Night Court. The Mother truly did have a cruel sense of humour.

You had walked in, looking as arrogant as the rest of them, sharing a secret smile with the shadowsinger before sitting down next to the High Lord. Eris, next to his mother, couldn’t rip his eyes from you. Your doe eyes, sharp and intelligent captured his attention first. He wanted nothing more than to get lost in them, to find out everything about you: What you liked to read, your favourite food, how best to pleasure you and have you screaming his name. He was pulled from his fantasies by your wings. Cauldron, your magnificent wings. Their beauty stole breath from his lungs as they unfurled, getting comfortable on the chair. You had smiled at Feyre, warm and supportive, and Eris knew he was utterly lost.

He finally stopped his pacing, locked inside his room, and sat down on the edge of his bed. He sat there, holding his head in his hands until he heard the scratch of claws at the door. Getting up with a weary sigh, he opened it only to be knocked to the ground by his oldest and most loyal smokehound.

“Cheddar.” He chided as she licked his face excitedly. “Cheddar Biscuit.” He said, sternly, and she leapt off of him, waiting by the door expectantly.

“Yes alright, I suppose it’s time for a walk.” Cheddars tail thumped faster against the door frame and Eris couldn’t help the smile that grew. “Go and fetch your brothers and sisters then.” He said, grabbing the leashes off the wall. A walk was one way to clear his mind.

---

As you had predicted, Rhys was holed up in his office when you went looking for him. He barely looked up at you as you entered.

Rhysand’s office was always meticulously organised, but as you came up behind his chair you noticed how messy his desk had become. Letters and notes were piled on every inch of space, his childhood stuffed bat sitting atop one pile as a makeshift paperweight.

He loosed a breath.

“We are going to war, Y/n.” He said quietly, and any thoughts of Eris Vanserra eddied from your mind. Rhys looked up at you with bloodshot eyes. Guilt coursed through you for ever caring about something as trivial as a mating bond when you and your brothers were set for battle. You had only just got Rhys back from under the mountain, only to potentially lose him again.

“Is it certain?” You asked, leaning down to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Is Cass--?”

“Leaving for Windhaven by first light.” He answered.

“Ok.”

Rhys turned, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He knew what you were thinking, though you wished you weren’t.

“Eris is an awful male, Y/n. You know I could never support the bond between you. Azriel is...well, I’m sure you already know.”

You did. The moment he had stormed out of the room you had known this was the beginning of a negative spiral for Az. Not to mention the upcoming war. You stood up straight.

“That being said.” Rhys continued. “Eris is ensuring Autumn allies with us against Hybern. There is a certain political advantage to the match.”

You scoff.

“Like there was with Mor?” Rhys turned green. “What did Eris bargain for in return for Autumn’s support? What did you trade away, Rhys?”

Rhysand looked every bit five centuries old when he turned to you.

“Our support in his bid for the throne. Whenever that may be.”

Hatred for the male burst anew in your gut, fiercer still now that you were mated to him.

“That power hungry bastard.” You spat.

Rhysand sighed.

“He could never deserve you, starlight. I will make sure that he never sees you again. I will not lose another sister.”

---

It wasn’t until midnight that you saw Azriel. The last of your brothers to approach you. He let himself into your room, waking you, tattered blanket draped around his shoulders. Rhys’ mother had sewn it for him years ago, before you had come to live with them. It had helped him through many hard nights. So much so that it was threadbare and faded. Rhys had enchanted it not to break further as a solstice gift one year.

You sat up worried.

“Az? Are you ok? You didn’t—”

“No,” He assured, and you relaxed against the pillows, “I’m ok.”

You shuffled over in your bed to make space for him, and he laid next to you, blanket over the both of you.

“I hate him.” He said into the darkness. “I hate what he did to Mor. I hate everything he stands for. I will not let him have you.” He declared.

You snuggled up to your eldest brother.

“I don’t know why you all seem convinced I’m going to somehow fall for this prick.” You said, and he snorted. “I hate him as much as you do.”

Azriel tucked you under his arm.

“I know.” You smiled tiredly, somehow understanding the words Azriel left unsaid. The words Rhys had been able to express. Azriel’s shadows settled over your heart, confirming, and the two of you fell asleep.

---

Months later, Eris sat in a tent, head between his legs to stop from throwing up. Thousands were dead. Thousands more were surely destined to die. Two of his brothers, and his mate, fought on the battlefield.

He only had a moments warning before he was violently sick into a bucket.

Asher, his youngest brother before Lucien, chose this moment to enter his tent unannounced, scowling at the sight of Eris hunched over and retching.

“Can’t handle the bloodshed, brother?” He teased, though he sat next to Eris and put a warm hand on his shoulder. The gaping wound on his neck was healing quickly, as it should with the High Lords power coursing through his veins, but the sight of it set Eris off again. He heaved into the bucket, choosing to ignore the gagging sound Asher made.

“Eris you need to pull yourself together. Father is only a tent over.”

Eris rolled his eyes.

“Just show me your plans, Ash.”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m better off keeping them to myself, seeing as you’re battlesick.” Asher grimaced when Eris finally sat up and pushed the bucket away from him.

“Asher.” Eris’ voice held all the command of General, and eldest brother. Asher groaned petulantly as he handed over the plans.

In Eris’ opinion, not that Beron took any heed, Asher should never have taken on as much responsibility in this war. After Ceres had died, Ash had taken over as Eris’ right hand. Ceres had been more naturally suited to the role, Beron’s bloodlust had run as deep as his bones, and he had a sharp mind for strategy. Eris still mourned the boy he had raised—a quick witted, chess loving, boisterous child—but he had to accept, he had lost Ceres long before he had died. And Eris wasn’t keen on losing anyone else. Asher wasn’t comfortable with a sword, the gash in his neck clear evidence, and he had a wife and child that weakened his resolve. This is what Eris had to work with. And he had a job to do.

He let Asher discuss his plans, though he was unable to rip his mind from providing a hundred different ways that he could die, that Ash or Lucien could die, that you could die.

It took every ounce of training ingrained in him not to falter in his attack the moment he had caught sight of you, fighting your way through the onslaught, Mor by your side. Cauldron, you were ethereal. Your silken wings were spread as if they could carry you into the air, though he had long since guessed that they could not. You cut through your enemies with a frightening ease. Catching his eye, you hesitated just a second, then your face had turned to rage and the next Hybern soldier to cross your path had been beheaded so brutally that even he had to avert his gaze.

When he had looked back up, you were gone, lost in the chaos.

Asher sighed,

“You’re not listening.” He said, and Eris had the decency to feel bad. He looked at Ash wearily.

“Come back in the morning. I’ll be more attentive.” Ash just peered at him over his notes.

“It’s her isn’t it. It’s Y/n.”

“Yes.” Eris said, lacking the energy to lie.

“She’s Night Court. She’s not one of us. One day you’ll find a nice Autumn girl to marry and when you’re High Lord she can pop out a few Autumn court babies.”

“She is my mate.” Eris growled.

“Mate’s aren’t always meant to be Eris. It’s only a biological match, not a political one. When you find an Autumn Court lady you’ll wonder why you ever spent time worrying over some Night Court harlot.” Eris snarled, despite himself. His brothers words were wrenched straight from Beron’s throat and he wouldn’t stand for it. Not from Asher. Not from his kind, loving Ash.

“Get out.” He said. Asher looked surprised, and—Eris was pleased to see—ashamed. He made no moves to leave, so Eris repeated himself, sharper this time.

“Get out.” He snapped, “Come back in the morning with more sense.”

Asher, chastised, fled from the tent, and Eris buried his head in his hands. What use was there protecting you from his brothers when it was certain your own said the same about him. There was no denying the cruel twist of fate the Mother had pulled on the both of you, destined to crash and burn. He imagined you in your own tent, laughing at the thought of him speared on another males sword. Mor sat next to you whispering all the terrible things he had done that day, terrible things to twist your mind and poison the very notion of him. He was too late, he was nothing but soot in the deep pit of your heart, choking the both of you.

He felt blindly for the bond, and found it, rotten.

---

The war was over, but the scars it had left were red raw and bleeding. Rhys had died. Your brother. The one who had sheltered you, loved you, given you a home and a family for a few agonising minutes had been gone. Gone. And yet that Cauldron damned bond had been chafing in the back of your mind. You sat in your bedroom riddled with guilt as it plagued your mind. Eris. Eris. Eris. He infested your mind, your senses, you were consumed by the very thought of him.

Walking through the streets of Velaris had started to feel claustrophobic, being around anyone beginning to suffocate you. You felt safer on your own. Recently you had taken to sheltering in your room, only emerging to eat. Your brothers eyed you with poorly concealed worry every time you walked, ghostlike, through the house, shuffling to the kitchen to fix a plate of leftovers then retreat hastily to your safe space.

Nesta was struggling too, after the war. It had left its scars in all of you. You could feel Cassian’s heart breaking the day Rhys sent her away with him, but all you could think about was whether your brother would do that to you. You thought you knew the looks he gave you.

Disgust.

What use was a flightless Illyrian female, who couldn’t train, couldn’t talk, couldn’t think. He was dead. Rhys was dead. And then he wasn’t. Why were Seren and your mother not afforded the same luxury. You grieved, and cried, and screamed. It truly was a sick thing, to use to the miracle of Rhys’ living to guilt yourself into believing there was hope for them. But then, everything in your mind had twisted of late.

Nesta began training. Nesta began healing. And you were stuck in your room.

Every morning without fail, Azriel came to check on you. He stroked your hair until you woke up, then retreated when you once again rejected his invitations to join them. The Valkyries, they were calling themselves. You would have been proud of Nesta if you could feel anything anymore.

Occasionally, you could feel a light tug on the bond, on the shackles that kept you bound to Eris. The first few times you had thrown up. Now it was little more than an annoyance. You were his dog, disobediently pulling your leash as you fell further and further into nothingness. His face in your mind was as cold as it had been on the battlefield as he yanked you back, choking you. You spluttered. Standing weakly, you made your way down to the kitchen, setting water on the stove to boil.

“Sister.” Cassian’s voice rang out behind you and you flinched, dropping your teaspoon. He bent to pick it up and set it down on the counter. “Azriel says you’ve been ignoring him. You’ve been ignoring all of us.”

You shrugged, the familiar pang of guilt squeezing your chest, making it difficult to breath. You braced both hands on the counter top, taking a ragged breath. Cassian was beside you in a heartbeat, holding you in his arms.

“Y/n, I’m worried about you. We all are.” He squeezed you closer to him, closer than you had allowed anyone in months. “Come and stay with Nes and I. Az is a terrible chaperone, and I need to see you. You could be wasting away down here and I wouldn’t know until it was too late.”

You shook your head, though you no longer knew why you resisted him. Your body melted against him, muscle memory taking over as he enveloped you in his wings. You swore you heard him sniffling as you hugged him back.

“Please, y/n.” He said, voice shaking. It didn’t take much more convincing.

A few days later, Rhys was helping you unpack your bags in your new room in the House of Wind. You took the room next to Azriel, who—Cassian had explained—was falling into bad habits again: Not eating, not sleeping, waking up in a cold sweat when he did finally drop off. Cassian wasn’t doing as well as he wanted you to believe, either. Twice in the following week you woke up to find him taking things from your room. And once, when you had floated downstairs in a miserable haze, you found him throwing up in the kitchen sink, an empty plate that had once held a batch of Elain’s cookies sitting on the table.

Nesta had dragged you to Valkyrie training a few times, and whilst you were beyond their current skill level, it had taken your mind off of things. Cassian’s eyes gleamed with pride everytime Nesta mastered an attack or a block. He touched her affectionately, he teased her, he lingered as she passed to breath in her scent. Watching them together was as painful as it was sweet. How simple love could be.

Would that you could be half as lucky.

Slowly you were emerging from your shell. You could smile again. Nesta invited you to read with her and the Valkyries, and in the silence you found firm friendship. Emerie was a gift from the Mother herself. You bonded instantly, both of you clipped, grounded, but neither broken. Many late nights were spent talking, about books, your brothers, or about Eris. Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn knew little of the Autumn prince, but you appreciated their outside perspective on the bond. It was still a bitter taste in your mouth, but it was becoming more bearable with each passing week.

---

There was a ball approaching in the Hewn City and Rhys had asked Nesta to attend. Not long after, she asked you to join her.

“I can’t do this alone, Y/n, please.” She said one night, sitting at the end of your bed. You bit your lip, unsure.

“Eris will be there.” You said.

“I’ll be the one dancing with him. Rhys wants him falling madly in love with me. He won’t look your way, I promise.” Nesta said. You knew she meant well by that. You had never wanted him anywhere near you before. But something about her oath left a sting. You frowned, which she took to mean you were still unconvinced.

“Please, Y/n. My sisters will be there, Rhys will be there. I’m not ready to face them all on my own, not yet.”

And so you found yourself stood atop the stairs the following week, draped in a black dress with a slit so high up one side your whole leg was practically exposed. The back scooped so low the dimples at the bottom of your spine peeked over top. You were devastating. Death in midnight silk. Rhys’ smile was that of pure brotherly pride as you walked down the steps, your hair pinned in braids and curls.

Nesta stole your breath away as she appeared in the hallway, but it wasn’t your gaze she sought out. You looked towards Cassian and could have sworn he was drooling. Eris would be blind-sided by her, of that you had no doubt.

In the Hewn City, they danced like lovers. Nesta as dangerous in the ballroom as she had become on the training grounds. Every move was calculated, every parting of her lips a dance of the mind, designed to ensnare Eris in her dastardly web. Eris was caught. And you burned.

Standing next to Azriel, heat rolled off you in waves. He took a step towards you, perhaps to offer you a drink, but found something in your eyes to make him change his mind. You hadn’t taken your eyes off of Eris all night. He was sinful. A courtier and a Prince. His hair pooled over his shoulders, one strand to the front neatly braided. You reminded yourself that this was the male that left your cousin for dead at his Court border. Biting your lip, your mind wandered to see yourself lying prone beneath him as he stood, smile widening, cock hardening in his—

“Get me a drink.” You ordered Az. He raised an eyebrow.

“What’s the magic word.”

“Azriel.” You growled, and he turned on his heel. Your eyes stayed pinned on Eris as he led Nesta across the dancefloor in a tantalizing waltz. His gaze finally met yours, and you saw a fraction of surprise before his emerald eyes darkened. He licked his lips, eyes locked with yours as he leaned down, and pressed a kiss to Nesta’s neck.

A/N: I have to thank @fandomsmultiverse for talking to me and giving me about 100 ideas to flesh this story out, I really hope you like it! There will be a part 2 coming soon! I wouldn't just leave you on a cliffhanger like that. We will see more of Eris and Reader interacting, and maybe.....some smut...

[kayjaywrites]

Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter Two

(Previous Chapter)

Summary: Azriel Shadowsinger, mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, was head over heels in love with you for years. Everyone in the room could see it, except for you of course. A series of connected one-shots.

Chapter Word Count: 7,500 Chapter Song Inspo: Obey - Bring Me The Horizon

Chapter Content Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst kinda, eventual fluff, anxiety/panic attack, vomit (nothing graphic), Rhysand being an ass, Nesta x Reader friendship, Rhysand slander lol,  AFAB Reader, Reader (You), fluff, some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish Note: So is this fluff? Debatable. But there is still plenty of Az fluff in it, you just got to work for it a little more this time. You don’t need to read the first chapter to understand what’s going on here, but they are connected!

XxXx

Your 3rd year in Velaris....

It took almost three years of employment with the Inner Circle for you to personally encounter the ‘Night Triumphant’ persona. You were not impressed. The most serious you’d seen your cousin was ‘High Lord Rhysand’, the fierce leader, but even that was limited to political business outside of Velaris. More so than not, it was just Rhys, your fun loving, sarcastic friend who so happened to wield an enormous amount of power. 

The male sitting at his work desk was not your ‘Rhys’. Hell this wasn’t even High Lord Rhysand. The Night Triumphant held eye contact with you, gaze calculated and stern. You studied the authority in his expression, his mouth drawn into a tight line. Staring him down right back, you waited for the facade to break and reveal the male you had come to know as family. You searched his face for the guy who would rather face Amarantha again than put you in such a precarious situation. The very situation that plagued you with consistent nightmares since you left Hewn City.

You did not find that male.

Your gaze flitted to Mor, her body draped in a leather armchair off to the side, hoping to find a trace of humor in her expression. She tried to look nonchalant, but there was a sharp edge to her that betrayed her own trepidation.

Nesta stood an arm’s length away from you, uncharacteristically quiet in the wake of your High Lord’s orders. She seemed as if she was waiting to see who would escalate things first. Rhysand had summoned the three of you to his office to brief everyone on an upcoming…obligation. He prefaced the meeting by saying that he knew it wasn’t an ideal assignment. He wasn’t asking if you wanted to do it, it was non negotiable. 

In two months time, you, Nesta, and Mor would be answering a summons to Hewn City. Kier had been requesting a personal audience with you for the last year. Mor and Rhysand could no longer postpone it, as you were a Night Court Courtier afterall.

Still, you did not want to believe that Rhys would ask this of you. “You’re kidding, right? This isn’t very funny, Rhysand.”

“I know you can tell that I am not joking.” His flinty tone brook no argument.

Any hope of reasoning with the Night Triumphant withered away. He summoned you to his office well aware that you wouldn’t take kindly to being sent back. Here you’d been thinking Rhysand understood your trauma best, having been held captive and used while Under the Mountain. 

It appeared that you had misjudged him.

Just as you were about to say as much, Mor spoke up for the first time since the meeting started. “Kier threatened mutiny at the last Council meeting. At first he demanded a private audience, even after I informed him of our bargain. When we still refused to send you by yourself despite his threats, he agreed on these terms. You and Nesta because you’re a team, and me because I oversee The Court of Nightmares anyway. He couldn’t argue with that logic.”

You felt like you were going to be sick. After 300 years of being nothing but a tool for your father, the idea of seeing Kier’s face again so soon had your lunch sitting heavy in your stomach. It was inevitable, he thought you were loyal to him, his spy on the inside. You had zero idea how you were going to handle a reunion with him, simply thinking about it made you short of breath.

Your nights were plagued with stress dreams about what it would be like to return to your old home. You avoided stewing on the topic during your waking hours. The inevitability of it all often sent you spiraling, you couldn’t ghost Kier forever, but you thought you had more time. There was no fucking way you were ready. “I can’t do this,” You said, “give me any other assignment, and I’ll do it. Just not this.”

“You can,” Rhysand enunciated each word, slow and deliberate, like he wasn’t sure you would understand him, ���and you will.” 

Oh hell no. You did not uproot your entire life to be spoken to like that. “Do not speak to me like a child, Rhysand–”

“Then stop acting like one,” he scolded, like you were the one being unreasonable, “this is your duty to your court, what I pay you to do. If you won’t do what needs to be done to protect your court then we don’t have a place for you here.”

Rhysand’s words hit like a blow. Your sharp intake of breath was echoed by both Nesta and Mor, but you couldn’t see them, they might as well have not been there, your world shrinking down to Rhysand as he regarded you coldly.

“So what will it be?” He addressed you, leaning forward over his desk, leering, “will you do as your High Lord asks of you, or will you be resigning today?” He pressured.

Your hands fisted, ire rising up so fast it made your eyes sting with unshed tears. If you got kicked out of Velaris you’d undoubtedly end up back in Hewn City. And you couldn’t let that happen, not after you finally got a taste of freedom.

Rhysand may like to believe himself better than Kier, but how was this any different from how Kier treated you? Was this your destiny? Undeserving of kindness unless you proved your worth? 

What about you made people forget that you were a living, breathing being? Just like everyone else in the room, you had feelings that mattered, and hopes for your future. You’d been stripped of your freewill for the first three centuries of your life. It was a wonder that you hadn’t gone mad.

Were you only allowed a taste of freedom? Was that Rhysand’s plan all along? Get you hooked on life in Velaris then dangle it in front of you like you were a simple mule, your freedom the carrot held just out of reach.

It made your blood boil.

“My apologies.” You sneered at him, gone was the meek, conditioned wallflower. You meant all the disrespect. In a dramatic flourish you bowed low to Rhysand, making sure he saw your contempt for him when he met your gaze.

 You maintained direct eye contact as you hissed harsh sarcasm at him, “I am at your disposal, High Lord.”

Rhysand’s eyes flared with something dark and aggressive. Time slowed, a pulse of his power cresting over you in a suffocating wave, a preview of how oppressive he could make it if he so wished. Dread replaced your anger, the confidence you’d displayed moments ago dissipating. You struggled to not show how he had shaken you, and by some miracle, you stood your ground. Still, he could probably hear your heart pounding from where he sat.

Amidst the theatrics, your own power had not been so keen on backing down. It had coiled around you like a viper ready to strike, protective, as Rhysand’s prowling darkness prodded your boundaries. 

This version of Rhysand left you stricken, unable to reconcile the egregious behavior with the male you’d had breakfast with just that morning. It felt like his power was tearing you in half, and he wasn’t even exerting himself. He looked bored.

Did you escape the clutches of one villain, only to run into the hands of another? Were you really that foolish?

Mor stepped into your field of vision, mouthing something at you. You hadn’t realized your ears were ringing until the shrill noise faded enough for you to hear her calling your name. The frantic quality of her voice snapped you out of whatever daze Rhysand’s power had cast on you.

Right. Nesta and Mor had witnessed that entire thing. You’d forgotten about their presence in the heat of the moment, your attention tunnel visioned on Rhysand. He had humiliated you in front of some of the most important people in your life. The only thing that could have made it worse was if Azriel had been there too.

Intense embarrassment flooded you, a seed of distrust taking root deep in your heart. You felt so stupid, thinking you could trust Rhysand and his Inner Circle. Mor was still trying to get your attention, but you stared right past her, looking at Rhysand like you hated him.

Hell. Maybe you did.

Mor called your name once more with urgency, moving closer to you, half turned so she hadn’t given her back to her High Lord, but solely focused on you. “It’s the best we could do without inciting a civil war.” She tried to clarify, emphasizing on the ‘we’ as she gestured between herself and Rhysand. 

“You have to know we wouldn’t put you in this position if we had any other choice. I personally promised I would never leave you alone in that city again, and there is nothing our father can say or do to make me break that promise to you. We will do this together.”

Rhysand’s power had receded, but you could still feel it loitering like a watchdog. Something you’d never imagined Rhys doing to you before the meeting. He’d always spun such pretty promises about your future in Velaris, and you believed him.

And now Mor was doing the same exact thing. More pretty promises, but no proof of her intentions to follow through with them. 

Mor’s shoulders visibly sagged, “If you don’t believe me, then look.” She pleaded, offering her mind up for you to read.

You physically recoiled at her suggestion. “I will do no such thing!” You spat back in disgust, “You are my sister, this is supposed to be my family. I will not taint our relationship with my powers in a moment of weakness. You may not return the same respect, but I refuse to surround myself with people I can’t trust without rummaging around their mind for their truths first.”

Unlike some males went unsaid as you fumbled to tone it down for Mor. Your problem was not with her, and she didn’t deserve your harsh words. “I can’t…I won’t….I–”

Frustrated with yourself, you took a steadying breath, emotion burning behind your eyes. Despite your best effort to keep composed, your voice quivered, “I will not be like our father.”

The room was stunned silent, Mor regarded you with sadness, lips parting to respond, but then pursing closed in a tight line.

Rhysand was the one to break the silence. His power dispersed as he leaned back in his chair, acting like he hadn’t just wound you up tight enough to fracture you into pieces.

“So you accept the assignment then?” He inquired, brushing nonexistent lint from the cuff of his dress shirt.

His lack of remorse irked you. Did he not think he could have handled the situation better? Was this how he treated everyone in the Inner Circle? The list of things you wanted clarification on kept growing, so instead you settled on, “Yes.” 

“I’m glad we could come to an agreement then.” He drawled, “We will go over details and strategy another time, when we are all more composed.”

You wanted to punch him in his goddamn face.

“For now, this meeting is dismissed.”

As soon as he finished speaking you stormed out of his office, nearly colliding with Nesta in your haste to get away from Rhysand. Originally you were going to visit the library after the meeting. Nesta had suggested a book for you to read, and you wanted to read it so you had something to talk to her about. But you were too worked up to do that now, you needed to get out of there. 

You didn’t care where you ended up, so long as you put as much distance between you and Rhysand as possible.

XxXx

By step 174 your blurry vision cleared a smidge, too out of breath to cry for the moment. You didn’t have anyone to help you leave The House of Wind, so you took to the 10,000 stairs with the expectation of someone eventually coming to find you. There was no way in hell you’d actually be able to reach the bottom. You began the descent down the spiraling staircase so fast It was a marvel that you didn’t trip.

Any time you slowed down Rhysand’s words would play on loop in your head. The only way to drown it out was to pick up the pace, the exertion elevating your heart rate enough for it to overpower that nasty voice in the back of your head. If you ran fast enough the only thing you could concentrate on was counting the steps you took.

239 steps down, and you had no choice but to slow down to a more reasonable pace. It was a warm day, and you were getting dizzy. The last thing you wanted to do was pass out. In a desperate attempt to keep your mind occupied as you caught your breath you focused on the breeze cooling the sweat beading up on your forehead. You listened to the slap of your bare feet on the smooth, sun-warmed stone. You thought of the color of the sandals you left behind at the very top of the stairs. You pondered on which step you’d discarded your blouse on after it began to cling to your sweaty skin.

Your guess was step 148.

You hit the first landing platform at step 250, slowing to a walk as you panted, hands propped against your hips as you counted your next few steps. Woozy, you let your eyes fall closed for a moment, but the image of Kier sitting in his throne room beckoning you forward flashed across your mind. You flinched so hard you accidentally opened your eyes looking directly into the sun.

It felt like your head had a heartbeat of its own, vision blotching from the brightness. You didn’t know how your day could get any more bleak as you rapidly blinked the disorienting dots away. Glimpses of The Court of Nightmares throne room lurking behind every blink, Kier looked more like Rhysand each time you closed your eyes.

It made your stomach lurch, and you whimpered around a dry heave.

A particularly strong gust of wind ruffled through your hair, and you can almost hear Azriel’s voice reminding you to focus on your other senses. Your mind can lie to you, but it’s much harder for all your senses to be tricked at the same time.

The sunlight, the ever-present wind, the sound of birds, the smell of fresh air. Let nature ground you. 

It just wasn’t enough. You’d only paused for a few moments, but your chest began to feel too tight for your lungs, anxiety squeezing the air out of you before you could properly inhale it. Two months. Just two measly months to figure out what the hell you were going to say to Kier–to your mom, after you’d gone no contact for almost 3 years. Two months to not be petrified of somehow getting trapped down there again.

So you continued down the stairs, pushing yourself harder. 

251. 252. 253. Counting them like Azriel had taught you.

It had been after your first dinner with the Inner Circle at the House of Wind. Mor was a little too tipsy to winnow home safely, so the both of you decided it best to share a guest room. You were feeling antsy, Mor having fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

The House of Wind was so different from Hewn City. Cozy and surprisingly casual in decor, but it was carved out of the side of a mountain. With the curtains drawn, in the dark quiet of the night, it almost felt like your bedroom in The Court of Nightmares.

You had thought a glass of water would do you some good, help you settle enough to get some rest. So you set out for the kitchen, taking care to walk quietly so as to not wake anyone. The hallway led to a flight of stairs, which brought you to more hallways that seemed to stretch on, and on, and on. The homey decor fell away, your balance wobbling with the sudden onset of vertigo. Closing your eyes didn’t help, dizzy and disoriented, everything felt like it was tipped on its axis. You couldn’t place where you were, where you were going, just that you were alone. Fear flooded your senses, and you swore you smelled the dank air of the streets of Hewn City like you were still there.

Azriel found you slumped against the wall on shaky legs, your pulse pounding so hard in your ears you couldn’t hear what he was saying to you. The touch of his rough hands on your bare arms was soothing enough to bring you back to yourself. You weren’t walking the streets of Hewn City. You weren’t alone. Azriel had you.

Each inhale had still felt like you were gulping in freezing cold water, your breath coming in irregular gasps. You thought you were going to die in that hallway, suffocating on fucking air.

Azriel took you to the training grounds on the rooftop of all places. You can still remember the brightness of the full moon that night as he coached you through breathing exercises. Then, coaxed you into walking laps with him around the perimeter of the huge training grounds. He counted each step aloud with you until you had calmed enough to tell him what the hell had happened.

And that was how you and the Shadowsinger bonded over Claustrophobia. An unfortunate thing to have in common, an even more unfortunate first thing to find you had in common.

In the moments after you’d come down from your panic attack you wanted to svirel up and fade away, so thoroughly embarrassed. But now, you thanked The Mother for sending Azriel to find you that night.

It was those same coping skills that led you to working out your anxiety after the meeting. 290 steps away from The House of Wind, and you were sure your legs were going to give out if you kept pushing yourself. You came to a slow stop, soles of both your feet planted on the same stair. Lulling your head back so your face was to the cloudless sky, you closed your eyes and pictured that moment with Azriel. Instead of Kier morphing into Rhysand, you saw Azriel walking laps with you around the moonlit training grounds.

You basked in the breeze against your face, your anger and fear still roiling in your stomach, but no longer all consuming. The relief was short lived, a concentrated pang of despair reared its ugly head, raw hurt so overwhelming it chased the warm memories with Azriel away. It made you so tired, so emotionally drained you felt it in the marrow of your bones. You wanted to just let go, collapse in a heap and never get up again.

Yet, by some stroke of willpower, you remained on your feet. You hadn’t warmed up before taking on the stairs, and you could already feel soreness settling into your muscles. Gingerly you sat yourself down on the steps, resting your elbows on your thighs as you rubbed your hands over your face, spreading fresh tears across the top of your cheeks.

If you won’t do what needs to be done to protect your court then we don’t have a place for you here. Rhysand’s words burned the part of you that had always suspected as much. There was this nasty little voice that lived in the back of your head. It would mock you when you were too content in calling this place home.

You wondered if that voice would start to sound like Rhysand.

The thought broke your heart a little bit more. You wanted so badly to make him proud, to earn your place in the Inner Circle, prove that they hadn’t made a mistake taking you in. The worst part was that you thought you were doing good. Not that you’d believed yourself to be one of them, you were still so new, but you thought…you thought…

You don’t know what you fucking thought.

Curling into yourself, your knees tucked in close to your chest, you made yourself as small as possible. The full body trembling made your sobs shaky, your entire being wobbled from the weight of your failure, your naivety. This was what you got for wanting to do it the right way. You’d never built relationships without relying on your powers to sniff out their loyalty beforehand, never truly trusted on your own violation.

Your father always thought it was a stupid risk to take when you could know for sure. You thought it was an awfully lonely way to live, to never trust fully. Perhaps you’d been wrong.

This was what you get, you silly girl. Kier’s voice taunted from the back of your mind. Or was that Rhysand’s voice? Did the difference even matter anymore? 

The telltale sound of approaching footsteps closed in on you from behind, you couldn’t tell who it was, all you could smell was the salt of your own tears. Maybe it was one of them coming to take you out of your misery, maybe Rhysand took your display in his office as a sign of disloyalty.

The killing blow never came, so you glanced up to see Nesta taking a seat next to you. The last person you expected to come looking for you if you were being honest.

She didn’t look at you right away, which you appreciated. You were humiliated enough without her seeing you wiping your own snot on your forearm. Her icy stare was focused on the view, the only indication that she had run to catch up with you, a few fly away hairs having been jostled loose from her braids.

“You were pretty hard to catch up to, you know,” She leaned back, supporting her weight on her hands against the step behind her, “for someone who doesn’t regularly train, at least.”

Her attempt at humor, which earlier in the day would have made you indignant, fell flat. Instead inciting a new wave of tears to fall past your lash line. You dropped your head lower to hide it from her, but it did little to smother the sound of your quivering breath.

She didn’t try again, and her presence grew awkward when you didn’t try either, but she stayed next to you regardless.

When it became apparent that she would stay by your side unless you sent her away, you found your words. “What if I can’t do it,” You croaked out, voice absolutely wrecked, “Face my father, return underground? What if I can’t do what’s expected of me? What if it’s too much, too soon? What if I lose everything because I’m not strong enough.” Will never be strong enough.

“Then we will figure it out,” Nesta answered without hesitation, “Together.”

You are alone. That damned voice insisted.

“But Rhysand said–”

“I know what Rhysand said.” Nesta hissed, and you startled, your bloodshot eyes meeting hers for the first time since she arrived. She looked pissed, lips pursed in a scowl as if the High Lord was right in front of her. “Rhysand is an insensitive jackass. He won’t send you away because you messed up one job.”

“How can you know that?” You whispered, already knowing that she couldn’t know for sure. 

“Because I’ve pissed him off by doing far worse, and I’m still here.”

You shook your head at her reasoning, not good enough, she can’t know for sure. “You're his mate’s sister, and Cassian’s mate. He can’t exile you.”

“And you're The Morrigan’s sister, and his own cousin.” Nesta deadpanned. “You’re not going to get exiled over a visit to The Court of Nightmares.”

“How can you possibly know that?!” You shouted, one of your hands clutching the fabric of your sweat soaked chest binding as your heart ached. Frantic to believe her, but knowing that you just couldn’t.

“Because Rhysand hates me, we barely tolerate each other on good days. He once threatened to banish me to the human continent,” she rebuked, hands flying about as she grew impassioned, “He loves you. He’s just an overpowered ass on a power trip. You questioned his authority and it hurt his fragile little ego. And even if he was stupid enough to try to cast you out, the rest of the Inner Circle would never let that happen.”

Your nerves were fucking shot. Whatever remained of your bravado frayed with every hagrid breath, it was impossible to stay focused. It was like your powers were waiting for you to be distracted, taking the opportunity to thrash against your mental shields. You didn’t know if it was skill keeping your powers in check, or dumb luck.

Your headache spread across your temples, sharp pain panging behind your eyes. You were already so tired, but the tears would not stop coming. That damned voice, still whispering its poison, adding to the agony. Nesta can’t know for sure, but you could if you just gave in.

You looked Nesta over, her relaxed body language at odds with the determined fire in her eyes. She left herself wide open, she wouldn’t even know if you read her. You’d be in control, your fate wouldn’t be left up to a gamble.

Nesta tried to meet your gaze, and you squeezed your eyes shut, turning away from her. It was impossible for you to think with her piercing stare studying you. What reason did Nesta even have to care about what happened to you? She didn’t say shit while Rhysand was ripping your world apart, and yet she showed up here? To do what exactly?

There was a dull ringing in your ears as your power surged against your restraint, and maybe you screamed, maybe you didn’t. Your fingers went up into your hair, fisting at your roots as you pulled, rocking yourself back and forth because it would be so easy.

And maybe if you gave in, that stupid voice would stop.

Nesta called your name, “I wouldn’t let Rhysand kick you out of Velaris.”

The cry you let out sounded almost feral. “I don’t know that!” .

“No, you don’t,” Nesta acquiesced, “but do you trust me?”

Did you trust Nesta? The question cut you into you like the edge of a knife, your heart answering with a resounding yes.

Wow, did you want that to be true. But that sinister voice oozed like an oil slick in the back of your head. Will you do as your High Lord asks of you, or will you be resigning today? You had trusted Rhysand too.

Even if Nesta wanted you here, did you think she would disobey her High Lord for you? You didn’t know, not for sure. Your power reared up again, and your head pounded at the onslaught. That oily voice so loud it was all you could hear. You could know.

“I-I don’t know.” You stammered, stomach churning into grotesque knots.

“Do you trust yourself?” Nesta continued her line of questioning.

That answer came to you quick, no, and it had you lurching forward, your balance lost as you scraped your knees sliding down a couple stairs. You wretched, violent heaves as your stomach emptied out on the stairs in front of you.

No. You didn’t trust yourself.

“There was a time where I didn’t trust myself either.” It was like you weren’t barfing up your guts right in front of her, Nesta spoke with such calm. “Didn’t let anyone close enough to trust, even myself, I didn’t know how.”

You wretched again, your hair getting in the way. Gentle fingers gathered the stray pieces that had fallen from your updo. You hadn’t heard her move over to you, but she was there, steadying you as you struggled through a bout of dry heaving. If you weren’t so miserable, the tenderness coming from Nesta would have shocked the hell out of you.

Her free hand rubbed soothing circles into your back as she continued her tale. “I hated myself,” Nesta confided, voice raspy with emotion, “so much that I drank myself stupid every night to escape the darkness of my own thoughts.”

Now, the random heart to heart did shock you.

Three years of trying to connect with the enigma that was Nesta Archeon. Three years of getting redirected when you asked something too deep. The most you got out of Nesta was what she liked to read, so you picked up reading just to have a reason to approach her outside of assignments. Three years of one sided heart to hearts, evaded personal questions, and turned down sleepover invitations.

And she decided that now was the proper time to trauma dump on you? While you were half dressed, ugly crying with vomit in your hair?

What a baffling female. The confusion helped you relax, so surprised you were by Nesta’s sudden urge to share. Her hand kept a slow, steady rhythm as she continued to rub gentle circles onto your back, you hadn’t realized how tensed you’d been until muscles you didn’t even know you had started going lax. 

Whatever Nesta was doing, it was working. So you basked in the comfort her touch provided and listened.

“Someone taught me how to acknowledge those thoughts and let them go. To breathe, and still everything else in my mind, and let my mind think those things, but to not dwell, because that dark self loathing didn’t define me.”

The dark self loathing didn’t define you. Her words chipped at something that had been left festering for far too long. Had that been it all along, that terrible voice in the back of your head, had it been self loathing?

“Give yourself permission to feel, acknowledge it, and let it go.”

And it was so liberating, giving a name to what had been festering under your skin. Hate. Disgust. Cowardice. You cried, but not the agonized, tortured type of wails that had crippled you moments ago. This was a release, the type of ugly cry you do when something you didn’t know was broken starts to heal.

You hated yourself. And that was okay, because as you waited for that awful voice to mock you, it never did. You hated yourself, wept so hard you thought your eyes were going to fall out of your skull, but you had never felt lighter.

Nesta found your hand, gentle at first as if giving you time to pull away. Then she held onto you like the simple touch could convey what you were worth to her. “You are the rock against which the surf crashes. Nothing can break you.” She whispered, but the words resonated like she had shouted them at you.

The smile started as a small twitch at the corners of your mouth, but you knew Nesta saw it all the same. You searched for that dreadful voice, waited for it to speak something dreadful, but the quip never came. The smile that bloomed on your cheeks was wide with astonish.

You couldn’t believe it, after 300+ years of letting that nasty voice ruin you, there was peace. In its place was something new and bright.

Hope.

XxXx

The sound of beating wings announced the arrival of Cassian and Azriel a moment before the weight of their landing sent vibrations through the hard stone of the staircase. The two hulking Illyrian warriors made quick work of the walk up the stairs, their casual conversation trailing off once they were within earshot of you and Nesta.

“Ness!” Cassian’s voice boomed in greeting, cheery and boisterous, “I see why you asked for me to bring Azriel now. Here I thought you were acting on your ‘secret’ fantasies finally. The location left something to be desired, but I wasn’t going to be picky.”

Nesta sat shoulder to shoulder with you, so close, you felt her stiffen at Cassian’s offbeat comment. If you weren’t so drained, you’d be cross with her for summoning more witnesses, but the idea of having to walk back up all those steps upset you far more. The adrenaline high from your anxiety had long worn off, and without its numbing effect, you weren’t sure if you could even stand without your legs wobbling.

Nesta sighed, deep and long suffering, but affectionate nonetheless. “Your inability to read the room will always astound me.”

“Good thing we’re outside, there is no–” Cassian’s breath hitched, now close enough to get a good look at your downcast expression, haggard appearance, and odd attire. You were careful to keep your emotions under control, unwilling to let anyone in the Inner Circle see you in such a vulnerable state. Years of cautious composer, wasted, all because of a meeting that lasted less than 30 minutes. You expected disapproval, your emotions had only been met with ridicule in the past, but the apparent emotions flying across Cassian’s face were anything but cold.

Worry. Guilt. Unease. Cassian’s emotions were so boldly displayed, you didn’t need your powers to disconcert them.

Cassian paused in his ascent as he looked you over for injury, but Azriel closed the distance in the time it took you to blind away the tingle of the latest round of tears. Their concern was almost palatable, and being shown that type of care felt too good to be real. 

These males had no reason to care so much, Nesta had no tangible reason to care so much. You were so… you, so replaceable and plain. You breathed through the thought, let it roll over you, maybe that was why they cared so much, because you are you. It had never occurred to you that you were someone worth caring for. Not when your own father never cared. Certainly not after Rhysand gave you the ultimatum to get useful or get out.

You are the rock against which the surf crashes. Nothing can break you. Nesta’s words repeated in your head, sending a zing of determination down your spine. 

“What happened? Are you hurt?” Azriel crouched down, his chest siphon reflecting the late afternoon sun. His questions made you feel queasy, but his presence soothed over you like a balm. This male simultaneously was the person you worried about disappointing most, and the person you felt most safe being vulnerable around.

Unlike with Nesta, you didn’t struggle with facing Azriel. He was inspecting the grime covered scrapes on your bare toes. “Where are your shoes?” He asked you, puzzled as he then took note of your sweat soaked bra, “and your shirt?”

A dark look passed over him, if his shadows could withstand the direct sunlight, you were sure they’d be writhing around you. He spoke your name like a whispered prayer, desperate. His gloved hands hesitated as he reached out to cup your face, only smoothing his thumbs over your cheeks when you didn’t jerk away, “please look at me,” and you did, meeting his amber eyes as he wiped remnant tear stains from your cheeks, “Did someone try to hurt you?”

You knew what he meant, but your explanation caught in your throat. A brief moment of shame overwhelmed you, because here you were blubbering over some harsh words from your High Lord, when people suffered far worse fates than your own every day. Azriel began to tense, an icy cold rage taking form as he mistook your silence as an affirmative.

You shook your head ‘no’, hating the troubling turmoil you had unintentionally sowed in him. His shoulders sagged, the sign of his relief so slight, many would have missed it. It was all it took for the remaining threads of your thin composure to snap.

Azriel all but scooped you into his arms as tears blurred your vision, and you crumbled into him, no further prompting needed. He held you so tight, it was like he was trying to hold all your pieces together for you. His wings flared to keep his balance, and maybe later you’d feel sheepish about almost tipping him backwards down those unforgiving stairs, but you relished in the comfort his strength brought you.

“I-I was–It was–” You couldn’t string the sentence together, “We were…I was–” you tried again but your breathing was off, your thoughts all jumbled, and Blessed Mother, you couldn’t do it again. Any words you’d thought about trying to say morphed into sobs, barely audible, but you couldn’t hide the way your body shook with them.

“Rhysand happened.” Nesta asserted, sparing what was left of your dignity by cutting off your senseless stuttering. She summarized the meeting, but touched on the major points that had triggered your anxiety. She was gentle with the recollection of your part in the meeting, scathingly critical of Rhysand. 

“When I left Rhysand’s office, The Morrigan was getting in his face, and as much as I would have loved to see how that went down, it felt wrong to not check in with you.” Nesta explained like she was coming clean, “ I asked the house where you were.”

It was about as close to an apology you’d ever get from Nesta. You knew from experience that Nesta took her time warming to people, preferring to mind her business and stay out of Inner Circle drama. Once she’d made an offhand comment about being the center of the drama enough to last her the rest of her fae lifetime.

Keeping your head rested on Azriel’s shoulder, you turned your face to the side so your voice was less muffled, “Thank you,” your words carried on the wind, paper thin, frail, but so heartfelt, “for following me.”

Nesta didn’t respond, and you didn’t dare look at her out of fear of getting weepy again. But you felt it all the same, a shift in the relationship between the two of you. Like a bridge branching out, a new understanding solidified in place, and you knew Nesta had felt it too.

You shifted in Azriel’s arms, intending on testing your strength, but his arms tensed to keep you in place. In one graceful movement that had your head spinning, Azriel stood up right, adjusting to support your weight in a bridal hold.

“How about we get you home and clean you up?” Azriel suggested, loud enough for the others to hear, but the question aimed at you.

Home. As in the apartment you shared with Mor. He had called Velaris your home.

Your heart gave a painful throb, all choked up again at the sentiment. Going home sounded like the most splendid thing in the whole world in that moment. You didn’t want to think about Rhysand or Hewn City anymore, you wanted to go home so much it hurt.

There was some rustling, Cassian coming to stand near Nesta. “Wanna race me back up to the house?” His words were muffled as if his lips were pressed into the crown of Nesta’s head. “Winner gets head.”

The swift resounding slap Cassian received almost made things seem normal.

“Are you two good?” Nesta ignored Cassian’s taunting, and you nodded at the same time Azriel responded with, “Yes, I’ve got her.”

A beat passed in silence, all four of you waiting to see if anyone added anything else. Then rapid footsteps took off up the stairs, and you popped your head up from the crook near Azriel’s underarm to see Nesta sprinting up the stairs.

“Hey!” Cassian bellowed, charging after her, “cheaters never prosper, Nesta!”

“Prove it, you overgrown bat!”

If you weren’t about ready to pass out from exhaustion, you would have laughed at their antics. Azriel was watching them, an unguarded fondness in his hazel eyes you rarely got to see. The two of you stayed like that, Azriel watching his friends, you committing his soft expression to memory. By the time Azriel glanced down to you, Cassian had overtaken Nesta’s lead, their figures dots in the distance.

You were a melted puddle of female in his arms, all tension and stress slipping from your muscles as your eyelids drooped. Try as you might, you couldn’t keep your eyes open for another second. Paranoia nagged at you, fear of what you’d see when you finally rested your eyes.

Nothing. Blissful darkness. Peace.

“I’m going to take off now. Loop your arms around my neck and hold on tight, okay? Once we get up high enough, the rest of the flight will be smooth.”

You did as you were told, any other time you would have been a nervous wreck, but you didn’t have it in you to fret. You’d always winnowed with someone, even learning how to land the drop through the wards when Mor winnowed with you to the House of Wind. You’d thought no one had noticed how you avoided the topic, but surprise surprise, Azriel had noticed.

The thought of being up that high in the sky and dropped sure made your pulse spike. Growing up in an Underground City meant your feet were always planted on the ground. So maybe it wasn’t a stretch to claim that you weren’t a fan of heights, you’d never flown with anyone before, but it would make a lot of damn sense.

Your musing was cut short. Azriel launched straight up into the sky, powerful wings effortlessly gaining momentum and speed. You clung to him, hands clasped together around his neck in a death grip, screaming bloody murder the entire ascend. Although you would deny it if anyone asked.

Things evened out once Azriel felt he was high enough, setting a leisure pace towards what you assumed to be the direction of Mor’s apartment. Your eyes were squeezed shut, wind whipping your hair out of what was left of your updo, tossing it across your face.

You must have been quite the sight, if the amusement in Azriel’s voice was any indication. “Are you going to look at the view?”

Your hair was a disheveled mess across your face, the wind burned your already sore eyes when you tried to pry them open. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t keep my eyes open,” It was probably beautiful, but you didn’t want to push your luck, you’d had enough panic attacks for the day, “Luckily, I don’t want to.”

He chuckled. “Next time then.”

Blame it on the fatigue, but you found yourself nodding in agreement. Something you may come to regret when he urges you to fly with him instead of winnowing the next time you travel together.

But maybe it won’t be so bad, if Azriel was the one carrying you. With your eyes closed, ear pressed to his chest, his steady heartbeat lulled the residual tension and anxiety away until all you felt was the security of his arms. You could almost forget that you were hundreds of feet off the ground.

In Azriel’s care, it was easy to relax, he wouldn’t let anything bad happen. It was in that half dozing state, snuggled up as close as you could get to him, that your sleepy mind realized moments like these were the ones you wanted to remember.

Ultimately, Rhysand’s nasty words were a small part of your day. The majority of your time was spent with Nesta, bonding with her in a way you’d never managed previously. Something that would have never happened if Rhysand hadn’t been a dick.

Yeah. You’d much rather remember the day as the Nesta heart-to-heart incident. Or the first time you flew with Azriel.

Drifting into a deeper sleep, you dreamt of the way Cassian’s laughter echoed with joy as he chased after Nesta up the stairs. You dreamt of soaring through the clouds with Azriel, the same fondness you’d seen in his eyes for Cassian and Nesta, but aimed at you.

It may take you the rest of your life, but you would replace all the trauma muddying up your memories with new memories you wanted to remember. New memories filled with laughter, affection, trust, and adventure.

One day at a time. 

Rhysand could go pound sand though.

XxXx

Previous Chapter / Bonus: Chapter 2.5 / Next Chapter (coming soon)

A/N: Don't worry the next part is going to be more like the first chapter. There will be like two more chapters sprinkled in that have a more serious tone, but the rest will be fluff, drama, and tomfoolery a plenty. Stay tuned for cheeky Cassian in the next update!!

Tag List: @f4iry-bell @jediknightjana @microwaveallthedemons @olive-main

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @5onedirection5

@brieflyclassymortal @hauntedstudentobservationus

[stargirlrchive]

azriel x afab!reader, smut, p in v, creampie ! i don’t know what this is. porn no plot (like fr)

azriel turns into a mess the second your warm, wet cunt wraps around his cock. wings sagging against the couch as you sink yourself down onto him. soft fingers tracing over the sensitive parts of his wings that have his hips twitching uncontrollably.

warbled noises leaving his lips as you trail kisses and bites down his neck. lifting and dropping your hips up and down in a steady rhythm and all he can do is dig his fingers into the plush of your ass.

too focused on not coming inside you so soon, he’s a mess of grunts and moans. telling you how good you are and how good you’re making him feel.

all it takes is a few more rolls of your hips, and scraping a nail down a vein on his wing that has him coming deep inside of you.

he’s mortified, never has he cum before you. but you shush him with a kiss to his lips and guide his fingers between your thighs.

[azrielsvq]

Dad azriel!! I just feel like there isn’t enough dad azriel fics

summertime simplicities

pairing: girldad!azriel x afab!reader ♡

summary: you and azriel enjoy a nice evening with your newborn

warnings/tags: girldad!az, mentions of missions, fluff (obviously), slight angst, BARELY any angsts, azriel and reader are in LOVE, baby girl is the light of their life <3

a/n: thank you for the request anon! ♡ i’ll try my best to attempt this! girldad!batboys are always my favorite things to think about cause i know they would be the most badass dad’s out there.

word count: 560

‘*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*’

as the sun began to set over the house you shared in Velaris with Azriel, you sit on your couch, reading the spicy novel that Nesta had recommended to you. although you were eagerly awaiting his return, you were currently tuned into the delicious scenes that were playing out in your book. well- as tuned in as a mother could be.

a pink bassinet holding your newborn daughter sits next to the couch while you’re reading. Not before long, the beat of illyrian wings could be heard in the distance. a smell of night-chilled mist and cedar fills your nose. your mate has returned from his mission.

wanting to meet him at the door, you scoop your baby girl from her place of slumber and walk toward the door. you press a kiss to her supple cheek. your daughter shares a lot of the same features that her father does. a head of dark hair and hazel eyes stare happily back at you as she coos and squeals with happiness.

you open the door just in time to see your handsome mate standing outside of the door. his tired eyes instantly light up as he sees his beautiful wife and daughter in front of him.

“hi baby,” azriel says, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing you deeply.

“hi, my love,” you respond back, kissing him back, one arm grabbing his bicep and the other cradling your daughter. more happy squealing and cooing interrupts the two of you as Azriel gently takes his daughter from your arms.

happy to see her father, your daughter smiles with a toothless baby smile and babbles happily. azriel kisses her forehead and cheeks.

“well, hello to you too, princess,” his eyes light up and he smiles even bigger as he gently cradles her to his chest. he gives her his finger to play with as he looks up at you.

“she’s so tiny, i’m still afraid that i’m gonna break her.” he chuckles and gives you a stare that tells you he’s only half-joking.

“you’re not gonna break her, love, i promise” you say to him as you put a comforting hand on his jaw. “now let’s get inside, i don’t wanna stand out here all night.”

still cradling the baby, azriel steps inside and kicks his boots off. his shadows make quick work of his weapons and armour and strip him bare of everything dangerous on his body. now in his underclothes, he turns to you.

“wanna put her to bed with me, az?” you say as you stop at the base of your stairs. azriel happily nods as he looks down at your daughter and smiles.

“it’s bedtime for you, sweet love,” he coos, following behind you up the stairs.

you both enter her nursery and azriel places her down in the crib. being the overprotective father that he is, he sends a few of his shadows in the corners of the nursery to keep surveillance while the baby sleeps.

having been fed a few minutes before he got home, your daughter, happy and well-fed, drifts off to sleep peacefully. azriel pulls you closer to him and inhales your scent as you both peer down at your daughter and watch her dream peacefully. you stand there, content with the life that you two have made for yourselves. your beautiful little family.

[thehighladywrites]

— “tell me you’re mine.” “ i’m yours.”

☀︎ — pairing: azriel x afab!reader

☀︎ — summary: you dream that azriel was cheating on you and now you can’t look at him without being annoyed. It’s not really his fault, but still… azriel reassures you, promising that you’re the only one for him.

☀︎ — warnings: a sprinkle of angst, fluff, a bit of crack, smut, oral (m. receiving), fingering, dirty talk, fluffy smut ngl, mentions of crying, cursing, mentions of hickeys and bruises

☀︎ — amara’s note: i loved writing this, also this is my apology fluff fic for the angst fic. hope you liked it! also english isn’t my first language so if you see any grammar errors, no you didn’t 🫶🏽 i think this is my proudest work🥹

tags: @callmeblaire @rowaelinsdaughter @azrielslightintheshadows @hauntedwitch04

Azriel’s brows furrowed as you avoided his hug for the second time today and just walked past him, acting like he wasn’t more than a ghost. This whole brushing him off thing had been going on all day and he was genuinely confused. Were you in a bad mood? Was your cycle coming? Azriel knew you were emotional during this time, but you usually stuck to him like glue.

He checked his mental calendar - no, not for another two months.

Did he say something to you? He replayed everything he said and every conversation you had yesterday and today but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Well, except for the fact that you were flat out ignoring him.

Azriel felt distressed over the fact that you ignored him, and he just wanted to be closer to calm down. Knowing he might have upset you, deeply unsettled him, prompting a strong desire to bridge the emotional gap between you.

Azriel found solace in your presence whenever he felt upset. You'd sprawl on the plush bed, arms open wide, inviting him into your embrace with a soft and tender expression. His head would rest on your chest, settling his weight on you, comforted by the beat of your calming heartbeat. It was a sweet sanctuary he sought when the world felt heavy.

There was nothing calm or sweet about the way you didn't spare him a second look, pouting as you carried on with your day. Occasional dagger stares shot his way, and even though you thought he didn't notice, he did. Of course, he did. The tension in the air was palpable as your silent discontent lingered.

Azriel decided to start small and ask an easy question, not daring to accidentally say something that will set you off.

“So, angel, what have you done while I was gone? Is the book you picked out yesterday any good?”

Sipping on the delightful peppermint tea, you huffed and snorted, keeping your gaze fixed on the window from the comfort of the soft sofa in the sitting room.

“Well, wouldn’t you just love to know?”

His brain was scrambled at this point, desperately attempting to save the clearly and very obviously dying conversation.

“Uh, yes? I’d love to know. If you don’t want to talk about the book then that’s fine but-”

“You’re just giving up so easy, Azriel. Atleast fight a bit. No wonder you cheated on me…”

Huh? What the actual fuck?? Confused and shocked, his brain went haywire, jaw dropping as he struggled to find words. A bewildered look crossed his face as he grappled with the unexpected situation.

He cheated on you? What were you talking about? The mere thought of being near another woman made him nauseous. Really, he didn’t like being around people at all, so the thought of going out of his way to find someone and then invite them to bed was something that made him shiver.

“What are you saying? I would never be unfaithful to you, please let’s just talk.” he dropped to his knees infront of you, panicked, trying to find the words to explain himself and to clear his name of something he didn’t do.

“You cheated on me. Yeah, with some blonde girl. And you seemed to enjoy it, too. Ugh, I’m so pissed, I can’t even look at you.” You put down your teacup a bit too hard as you folded your arms over your chest, glaring out the window in silent anger.

The crackling of the hearth was the only sound as Azriel's face paled. He was at a loss – how did you come to believe he was unfaithful? Where did these thoughts come from? The mystery hung in the air, a palpable tension challenging the warmth of the fireplace.

“If I truly was unfaithful, can you provide details? When did this happen, and where was I with this girl?” You felt his pleading, questioning stare burn into you from where he knelt.

Okay, so maybe you shouldn’t keep this up. He didn’t actually cheat on you. It was a dream but it felt so realistic that when you woke up and saw him besides you, you actually snarled. There you were, struggling to look at him without mentally replaying the scene of some random woman giving Azriel's body a tour. Fucking hell, you had never felt such betrayal and hurt by something that didn’t even happen.

But it felt silly to tell Azriel that you were mad at him for something your subconscious created , a dream you had dreamt. So you simply avoided him instead.

But damn, he was persistent.

Perhaps it was irrational, but you felt a desire to stir up some drama, maybe hoping to shake things up a bit.

“Okay, Azriel, I’ll spill. Yesterday at Rita’s, this blonde woman was all over you, touching everywhere. And you, shamelessly soaked it up like it was a spa. In my dream you also smiled as you held eye contact with me. You totally knew I saw you and did it anyways.” You looked away, breathing deeply as the memories invaded your mind.

Azriel felt a combination of relief and disbelief as you revealed it was all a dream. But he wouldn’t downplay what you imagined since he deep down felt your hurt through the bond. You had already been married for decades but the bond had snapped about 7 months, still new, so he understood that seeing him with someone else was hard. Hell, he’d feel absolutely murderous if he ever dreamt of some male feeling you up and fucking you, even if it was a dream.

He stood up as he dragged you to your feet and tilted his head, assessing if he should approach you or not,

“Sweetheart, you know I'd never do such a thing, right? How could I ever be unfaithful to you, my sweet girl? You're my perfect mate, my loving wife, my everything.”

He stepped closer and closer until his enticing scent enveloped you. Oh, how did you go an entire day without being close to him? Your mate towered over you, gently gripping your chin and tilting your head up. His face mere centimeters away, a magnetic force pulling you into a moment that blurred any lingering doubts.

“ I love you more than anything on this planet. In no universe would I ever stray away from you - you’re my beloved home, my cauldron fated. Over my dead body would I ever entertain another woman. I’ve waited for over half a millennium for you and I’d wait a million more for just a minute with you, sweetheart. I will never allow myself to disrespect you like that ever, I promise.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as he drew closer, his soft lips meeting yours. In that moment, your love for him overwhelmed everything else. His gentle kiss offered reassurance and warmth, the sting of the bargain tattoo fading into the background as he continued, sending shivers down your spine.

Needing one last push of reassurance you beg him for a last sentence. Looking up at him with glossy eyes, you whisper,

“Say you’re mine. Say you belong to me.”

"I'm yours, I belong to you. Just as you're mine, you belong to me."

Tears streamed down as your heart raced, overwhelmed by his sincere devotion to you.

He wiped away your tears gently, his eyes filled with unwavering affection. “No more doubts, my love. We're bound to each other, and I'll spend every moment proving my devotion to you.”

His words hung in the air, creating a comforting embrace that removed any lingering insecurities, even ones in dreamscapes.

You slumped in his arms, finding solace in the embrace of his huge arms. He held you tightly, rocking you gently from side to side, creating a soothing rhythm. Your tears dried, replaced by a sense of calm as the only audible sound became the steady beat of his heart. Inhaling his calming scent, you grounded yourself in the reassurance of your mate's embrace.

Azriel tenderly stroked your hair, his touch a gentle reassurance. In a heartfelt moment, he pressed a soft kiss to your hairline, expressing his love and commitment without the need for words.

Your heart swelled with love, the connection through your bond overflowing with overwhelming warmth. The excess energy and love pulsated between you two, prompting you to contemplate a way to reciprocate the comfort and love to Azriel.

Lifting your head from its resting place on his chest, you stood on your tiptoes and initiated a kiss. Your arms remained cradled by him, your head guiding the motion as you continued to share this affectionate moment with your husband.

Azriel noticed the quickening beat of your heart, your eyes fluttering as the kiss deepened. He knew what you wanted and he couldn’t deny you ever. His lucious lips curving into a smile. You did your best to keep eye contact with him but it was difficult given that Azriels eyes had darkened over with lust, pupils expanding as his lids were slightly lowered.

Staring him dead in the eyes you whispered your desires,

“I want you. I want you everywhere. I want your mouth.”

You placed a kiss on his cheek.

“I want your hands.”

You kissed his other cheek.

“ I want you inside me, mate. “

You gave him a final kiss on the lips, sealing your wishes.

Azriel let his eyes flutter shut, struggling to tame his desires. He knew you inside and out, knew exactly what pace and setting you craved in that moment. Bending down to your level, Azriel picked you up, carrying you to the bedroom.

As Azriel carried you to the bedroom, you couldn't resist planting tender kisses along his neck, sucking and biting as you created bruises. The soft touch of your lips added a playful warmth to the moment and you couldn’t help staring up at him. His handsome features captivated you – the straight nose, sharp jaw, and beautiful eyes. He looked as if The Mother Herself had carefully carved him. His long, dark lashes and perfectly shaped brows added an extra layer to the masterpiece that was Azriel.

A possessive pride swelled within you. As you continued trailing kisses along his neck, you couldn't help but revel at the fact that Azriel was undeniably yours. A sense of exclusivity and fierce protectiveness filled your mind, boasting that no one would ever touch him the way you did, no one would ever love him the way you did.

‘Suck on that you blonde bitch’ was all you could smugly think.

Azriel gently placed you in front of the full-length mirror by your bed, positioning himself behind you. With deliberate care, he bent down, pressing kisses to your head, temple, ear, cheek, and finally, lingering on your neck. Each kiss was an expression of affection, creating a trail of shivers along your spine and arms.

His hands slid down to your waist, giving it a firm yet gentle squeeze. The slow, deliberate touch made the moment feel personal and intimate. You make eye contact with your husband through the mirror and slightly nod, giving him permission to continue.

You step back, making him feel your ass through his pants, grinding against him as his hands travel up to your breasts. Azriel lightly squeezes them before moving to play with your stiffened nipples. His moves elicit a gasp from you as you revel at the feeling of him touching you.

You press against him again, this time harder. Azriel hisses as he lightly grab your neck with one hand, focusing his clouded eyes on yours through the mirror.

“Watch it. This is about you, not me, baby.” He unzips your dress, letting it pool around your feet. Instinctively you bring your hands up to cover yourself up, looking away, and realizing that you’re in fact completely stark naked infront of your fully dressed mate.

Azriel is having none of it. He wants you to see how beautiful you are. Wants you to see how your face twist in pleasure. Wants you to notice your little quirks that you otherwise wouldn’t see. He wants you too see the goddess he’s worshipping every day.

“Eyes open, sweetheart. You have to see how beautiful you look.” His hands envelops yours as he lowers your hands, leaving you bare infront of him. You hear rustling behind you and feel a sudden warmth pressing against your back. Opening your eyes, you see Azriel undressed with his warm chest pressed against your back. He looked massive, wings splayed proudly behind him, big arms flexing as he leaned down. His lips pressed against your ear, and the hot breath sent shivers down your spine.

“You’re my perfect girl. Look at you, all nice and ready for me. Now, imagine I see this everyday, imagine you laying under me, taking me like a good girl. That’s what you are right, a good girl?”

You nod absentmindedly as your mind goes blank. You just wanna make him proud of you, just wanna please him. “Uh-huh ‘m your good girl, Azzie.”

He flashes you a smirk, hands traveling further down as he teases your clit before pushing in his finger. You let out a sound of pleasure as your head slumps back into his chest, his massive hand wrapping around your throat. In and out his fingers go as your pleasure rises, blood heating at the thought of him fucking you on the bed later. Your breathing unevens when he twists his fingers and presses his thumb on your clit, rubbing circles as he pushes in another finger.

Your eyes cross in delight when he curls his fingers and hits that spot that sends electricity through your body, making you grab onto his built forearm. Azriel whispers promises of nasty scenes, promises of ways he’ll fuck you stupid. He’ll make sure you’ll never think he’d stray away from you. He’d prove himself forever if that’s what it took for the thoughts to leave your head forever.

Not sure what the mood is today, you ask him for permission to come. If you normally did it without asking, he’d edge you. And that was just not something you wanted to happen today so better safe than sorry. But before you gather your pleasured mind and ask him, Azriel beats you to it.

“Cum on me. Let go on my fingers, beautiful. It’s okay baby, you deserve it. Don’t you think? After all, my girl gets what she wants.”

As if his words triggered something in you, he pumps once, twice and you let go as you scream out his name. Azriel keeps fingering you through your high, looking you deep into your eyes as he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks on them.

“Delicious.”

Your ears ring, and your vision blur as your knees wobble, nearly falling. Azriel swiftly picks you up, planting a reassuring kiss. He praise you, telling you how good you were and how proud he was. You couldn’t think straight, only wanting more of him.

He placed you gently on the bed, preparing to head to the bathroom for a cloth to clean you up, but you halted him with a request.

“Can I repay you Azzie?”

Your eyes sparkled, and your face glowed with a content smile. With a tilted head and a subtle pout, you hoped he would agree to your request. You were quite tired but you so badly wanted to please him back.

He sensed your exhaustion, and originally he was so supposed to keep going but you were half asleep. He changed his plans and shook his head.

“You’re tired, angel. Rest up, I’ll be fine.”

But you kept resisting, urging and pushing that you weren’t that tired. And since Azriel can’t say no to you, he accepts. You let out a small victorious sound and slither down the bed, making room for Azriel as he settled against the headboard. You moved in closer to him, leaning forward and arching your back. You look up at him once for confirmation and continue when he nods.

Without hesitation, Azriel's hands found their way into your hair, stroking your hair softly before skillfully gathering it into a makeshift ponytail. You fall on your forearms, propping yourself up and obediently await for his words of command.

Azriel gently gripped your chin, his thumb grazing your plump bottom lip. In that moment, words were unnecessary; you already understood what he wanted.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” His words makes you blush.

You look away from his intense eyes and lower your gaze, pulling a chuckle from him. “Baby, stop. You’re making me nervous,” you plead, giving him a cheesy smile you kiss his thigh and move on.

Trying to hide your flustered face, you start out slowly, teasing him with kitten licks all over his tip. Azriel’s hands tightened around your hair making you look up at him with a smirk as he grits out,

“Play later.”

You suck on the head, hollowing your cheeks, before slowly taking in more and more, struggling when you feel him hit the back of your throat. Your mind replays the lessons Azriel taught you, prompting you to inhale through your nose.

His head thrown back against the headboard as his mind swirls with pleasure. He lets out groans and hisses of pleasure, his deep voice letting out praises,

“Fuck, that’s it. Such a good girl.”

“You’re doing so good, keep going.”

“My beautiful, beautiful y/n. You should look like this all the time, mouth full of my cock. Wouldn’t that be something?”

Your mates praise makes your eyes gloss over in submission. There was really no better feeling than being praised and loved by him. Your Azriel.

By the way the muscles in his thighs started tensing you knew he was getting close. You suck your cheeks in more and take him deeper, trying to please him as best as possible. 

The room was filled with obscene noises and gags as he hit the back of your throat, bucking his hips.

Pulling away, you use your hand and twist it around his shaft while sucking on the sensitive head. Determined to make him finish, you throw in a few sentences you know will get him there faster.

“you’re so big Azzie, taste delicious too.”

“does my mouth feel good around your cock, az? you wanna cum?”

“let’s see if my pussy feels better, yeah?”

Before you can put him back around your mouth, he grabs your arms and drags you up so that you’re straddling his lap. Without warning he pushes you down on his cock as you let out a loud moan at the stretch.

“You’re right, your pussy does feel better.”

Your hands automatically grab onto his broad shoulders as you grind and bounce on him. You tighten around him as he brings his fingers down to your clit. Looking down on him, you find him smirking, satisfied that he caught you off guard. He knew you didn’t really plan on riding him but you were not fucking complaining.

Quite the opposite actually. You sounded like some deprived whore, moaning and babbling out in pleasure, licking and biting his neck and lips.

Both of you knew you were close. Azriel breathing quickened as you tightened around him.

“Tell me you’re mine.” A soft whimper escapes you as you gaze down at your man. His sweaty hair sticks to his forehead, a rosy blush adorning his cheeks and neck. In his eyes, full of love and affection, as he whispers for the second time today that he's yours forever.

“I’m yours, forever baby, I’m yours.” Azriel chants as he comes, body trembling as you grind on him,soon falling off your high and slumping against his chest.

“I love you so much, honey,” you whispered.

You looked up at him, tears welling up as Azriel held you close, making you feel overwhelmed by the depth of love. The connection between you was an unbreakable thread, weaving through your souls. In his embrace, every touch and shared moment became a testament to the bond you shared. The room faded away as your love for Azriel became an emotional beacon, each tear carrying the weight of countless cherished memories.

Oh, how you loved him.

In the quiet of the moment, Azriel gently wiped away your tears, his eyes reflecting the same depth of emotion.

“I love you too, sweetheart” he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to your overwhelmed heart.

The reassurance in his words melted away the pain, leaving only the warmth of shared love.

[crumbledcastle28]

Azriel Shadowsinger: Sex Habits

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Summary: Headcanons (more like a bunch of imagines) about how Az treats his mate in the bedroom and otherwise.

Warnings: smut, smut, smut, smut, smuuuuuuut. Azriel is a switch, so is reader, swearing, lord of bloodshed cameo. This is pretty fucking dirty.

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Thank you @cherryjain17 for this amazing, inspiring request. I hope I did it justice.

SJM Masterlist

If you would like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated &lt;3

(pic from pinterest)

Morning

-I am of the opinion that Azriel fucks you differently depending upon the time of day.

-Let's start with morning, shall we?

-Azriel is a scheduled, reliable male. Training in the morning, always, no matter the night he had before. He owed it to his High Lord to always be ready for a fight - physically, and mentally. His constant, consistent training was how he maintained that.

-However, what Rhys didn't know about what he partook in before training wouldn't hurt him.

-When Az would wake in the morning next to your - usually naked - sleeping, curled, warm body, hair sprayed across the pillows, scent unique to you filling his lungs, face painted in pure elation and serenity...

-...yeah, he would get a little hard.

-The best was when you would wake up with him, eyes dull with sleep, but their color still bright. A small, languid smile on your face. He couldn't help but touch you in that moment, his body begging him to satisfy every sense he had with the feeling of you.

-He would begin with your face, dragging the knuckle of his pointer finger across your cheekbone. Opening his palm to feel the entirety of your cheek. Tracing down the column of your throat with his pointer finger. Painting across your collarbone with every digit. Cupping your breasts delicately, fondling them, massaging them. Dragging fingers down the center of your stomach, heating up every inch of it before finally...

-...yeah, I think we get it.

-The interesting thing about sex in the morning with Azriel is that, although it begins slow, he goes fucking fast in the mornings. Pounding his fingers into you over and over again, your cum dripping down his fingers and wrist. When he finally tastes you, it's a feast. Sloppy and wet and messy and you're groaning and he's smiling so fucking big. He gets you right on the edge of euphoria before pulling back and pressing a quick kiss to your lips and turning you around, face pressed against your soft pillow, and plunging himself inside of you without a drop of mercy.

-(All of this happens within minutes because, like I said, he's got a schedule to keep).

-As he ravages you, pumping in and out and in and out faster than your brain can process, he fucking sweats. It drips down his back, down his face, across his lips, down his chest, everywhere. Your still drowsy body loves when you scrape your nails down it, coating your palms with it and fucking up his previously clean, fluffed hair with it.

-The finest, perfect part about his sex in the morning is that, even though it's rough, quick, rabid, he holds you close the entire time. He cradles your head in his forearms, litters your spine in passionate, lingering kisses, holds your hips like a cracking sculpture, caresses your scalp, thighs, and lower back.

-It is a paradox; rough yet gentle, greedy yet giving, horrid yet beautiful, quick yet endless, and hateful, yet some of the most loved you ever feel by him.

-When he finishes, and you finish multiple times, he departs you with only a kiss, and rushes down the stairs to make it in just enough time for Cassian to not suspect anything.

-He gives you smirks and winks all day anyway, much to your chagrin.

Afternoon

-Around mid to late afternoon is when Azriel tends to get an itch.

-An itch to step away from it all: his desk, his tasks, his responsibilities.

-Sometimes this itch can be scratched by something simple: a walk around Velaris, or a flight, a cup of cocoa, or even a quick nap.

-Other times, however, this metaphorical itch can only be scratched by the exclusive, spectacular taste of his mate.

-And luckily for you, Azriel is the fucking king of quickies.

-He finds you within minutes, utilizing the convenient bond cemented in his very bones, and conveys his desires with only a look.

-Some days, you decline. Too busy with work, too tired from a night previous, or just plainly not in the mood.

-On these days, Azriel understands. He leaves you respectfully, always with a short kiss and a silent promise of "later" permeating in the air.

-On the days where you do accept, however, is when Azriel truly lights on fire.

-The caveat to quickies with Azriel, however, is that he cannot risk any...leakage onto his clothing. Whether that be cum, spit, or otherwise.

-Frankly, you couldn't either. The both of you took your jobs and professionalism too seriously.

-Which is what makes these quickies so fucking good.

-He kisses you, hard, and lifts you under your ass against his waist to press you against a nearby wall, covering the both of you in shadow. He kisses you until your head spins before unzipping whatever top you have on, and claiming the shit out of your breasts.

-Gods how he loves your breasts.

-He kisses and licks, nibbles and bites, marks and marks and marks you all over your chest and ribcage, whispering words dripping in honey.

-"All mine, these are all mine, aren't they?"

-"Never going to get enough of these - enough of you."

-"I can hear your heart, baby. Need a break?"

-"Fuck you," you respond, your matching smiles and shining eyes giving away your infectious joy.

-He kisses your tits long enough to make your mouth go dry from hanging open so long, before finally making his way up to your throat, whispering "mine" along the column.

-Never leaving a mark.

-He kisses around your pulse, and sometimes you kiss around his as well, before finally recolliding his mouth with your own, and kissing you like a male starved. Mapping you like a cartographer exploding a new land. Rejoicing in the mix of your skin and your mouth on his tongue like a male on his knees in prayer.

-You would think just kisses from him wouldn't count as a quickie, but with how thoroughly and religiously and hungrily he does, you come close to release every time.

-The both of you counted it.

-On days when his cartography becomes too much to bare, or the ego in your chest roars at the thought of him getting you so close to release by just his kisses, your fingers finagle their way to the tent growing in his pants, and palm him through the leather.

-Azriel felt that, as long as your mouth was not on him, he could control himself. The bar of professionalism would be met, and the risk of leakage would be next to none.

-But you have never been one not to test a theory, especially in the name of science.

-You palm him so wretchedly ferociously and savagely that you can practically sketch the exact curve, vein, and girth of his bulge. That's how hard he gets through his pants. You wonder if there is any blood left for his brain.

-You even push him away from you and lick him through the leather, never enough to stain his pants, but enough for him to feel the heat of your tongue cupping his balls and dragging across his dick.

-Still, he never comes, not once; however, that didn't mean he didn't retaliate.

-On days when you'd suck him off this way, he strikes back like a true Illyrian warrior.

-Unforgiving, and calculated.

-He guides you away from him, and does the exact same thing to you.

-Fingers you through your pants, pressing the fabric so taught against your clit you thought you would explode, before pulling his hand away, and replacing it with his mouth. Licking your folds through the fabric, nudging your clit with his nose, devouring and consuming you through the protection of one tiny piece of fabric.

-The mix of heat and fabric is so delicious that, every time, he leaves you near tears.

-He pulls away from you slowly, makes sure you can stand on two feet, and with one last kiss to your cheek, he backs away from you.

-"Later," he whispers, one of his shadows drying the tears staining your hot cheeks. "I want more of you later. I want more of you always."

-You always somehow return to the task you were attempting to accomplish previously, mind puddy, hands shaking, and breasts deliciously sore.

Night

-So yes, Azriel likes to fuck you fast. Leave you wanting more. Drooling for him. Pooling on the floor. Left on shaking knees. Departing from you with only a few words.

-But his favorite, most beloved way to fuck you is to make love to you. Slowly. Intimately. In every way he knows you love.

-And that is how he does it at nighttime.

-But, I am getting ahead of myself.

-After long days of meetings, missions, planning, or even just boring paperwork, there is nothing he adores more than a quiet, serene dinner with you. He enjoys cooking the meal himself, usually making something one of you has mentioned having a recent craving for, and absolutely beaming when you finally walk through the door.

-You join him in the kitchen, and immediately wrap your hands around his waist, pulling him into a hug. He holds you close, breathing in the products in your hair, and kissing the top of your head.

-"How was your day?" you ask him.

-He's honest. Somedays he says "good," somedays he says "okay," and somedays he just sighs.

-You don't usually ask him to elaborate on those days unless you get the feeling that he wants to, but no matter what, he always asks you the question back.

-You are always honest with him too.

-After that, he finishes off dinner, and the two of you eat. Some nights it's full of conversations, sometimes superficial, like how the weather has been, but sometimes they're deep. Deep enough that sometimes he wonders if your words are able to reach inside of his brain and stroke it, hitting it exactly where he needs to be challenged, praised, or questioned.

-It was unreal every time, how well you knew him.

-Other nights, however, were coated in comfortable silence. Maybe you were both too tired to talk, or too content, or couldn't think of much to say. He never minded. If there was anything he could appreciate, it was happy, wonderful, comfortable silence. It was a sign that his day had come to an end, he had kept his Court and his people safe, and he had done at least something right.

-And what better way to bask in the safety of silence than with the person who knows you better than anyone, and the person you have more love for than stars in the sky.

-After the two of you have full stomachs, he always leads you to your shared bedroom by his arm, and pushes your chair in for you.

-Your face heats every time. Without fail.

-So does his.

-He leads you to the bedroom and kisses you once, twice, three times, before departing to take care of the dishes. He pictures how you make the mundane, simple task of getting ready for bed so godsdamn beautiful: your face cleaned, your hair refreshed, your breath newly minted, and your shoulders and jaw relaxed. A timeless beauty. A vulnerable sight, only for him.

-He finishes up and heads back to you, hands clean and soul at ease. He finds you already in bed; maybe reading, maybe writing, maybe already closing your eyes.

-He gets ready for bed himself, making sure his teeth and tongue are brushed thoroughly.

-Some nights, that is it. He joins you in bed and you drift off together, holding each other close at the beginning of the night, and closer in the morning. Smiles on your faces. Soft snores escaping you. Bodies breathing in sync.

-But not most nights.

-Most nights, after him joining you in bed, you pull him in, and kiss him so softly he barely feels it.

-But it's there.

-"Touch me, Azriel," you whisper, "and let me touch you."

-And he lets you.

-The kisses start soft, just lips on lips, before your tongue breaks his lips apart, and your bodies begin to warm up. Either he lays you down on your back or you push him down, either way, one of you gets on top of the other, and the two of you begin to do nothing less than venerate each other.

-So much kissing, so much feeling each other up and down; down each other's backs, across each other's faces, through each other's hair, across each other's stomachs, and so much breathing and groaning against each other's skin.

-This is all before a scrap of clothing comes off.

-When it does, however, Azriel undresses you like a nurse would undress a wound. Almost in slow motion, so he can take a peek at how every inch of your body looks that day. Maybe you gained a bruise, a scratch, a freckle, or a stretch mark. Either way, he wanted to make note of every inch of your body, memorizing every way your skin moved or wrinkled, your muscles flexed. He needs the image of you in his mind constantly updated.

-You do the same to him. Collecting every change in his body and adding them to his mental schema.

-When all of your clothes are finally off, and his mate stands before him completely raw, is when he begins to lose control of his mouth.

-"Gods, have you always looked like this?"

-"So warm, so soft."

-"How come every time I see you, I feel like I've spent my entire life blind?"

-His claim of never needing to resort to poetry holds true, but that doesn't mean he isn't damn good at it.

-After minutes and minutes of leaving hickeys, kisses, and indents on each other, so much so that both of your lower stomachs have begun to boil and your lungs are gasping for air, is when Azriel pulls away.

-"Can I?" he asks as he presses his forehead against yours, his hazel eyes glowing and his bulge pressed against your slick. You nod, smiling, and with one last kiss, he slides home.

-And fuck does he go nauseatingly slow.

-Even if you're on top, he ensures you pierce yourself with him with purpose, sliding his dick all the way in, all the way out, and all the way in, over and over and over.

-It was fucking heaven how well he fit in you, how he got you so wet you didn't even need to try, how deep his dick goes inside of you...

-...and how he has no qualms about never shutting the fuck up.

-Especially when you're on top - the view of you sliding him in and out of you, your body fully open to him to admire, and face at his disposal to kiss and whisper into.

-"My mate, oh my mate."

-"Right there, do you feel that? Fuck you take me so well."

-"My gods look at us, look at me in you."

-"You like that? Right there? I fucking love you. My mate. My love. My soul."

-As I said, poetry.

-One thing he never fails to take advantage of is the full-length mirror leaning against your wall, giving the both of you the perfect menu of angles to view yourselves.

-I think you know where this is going.

-"Look at us, baby. Look at us."

-"You're so fucking beautiful."

-"Look at yourself when you take me inside you."

-He goes on and on, drunk on the feeling of you, diminishing him of any sort of filter.

-I cannot imagine any reason you would want to shut up the most private, silent male in all of Prythian while he's sprouting sweet nothings to you, but if you do, there's one surefire way to do it.

-Reaching out your pointer and middle finger, only two fingers are necessary, and tracing thin lines down the veins in his wings.

-Never will you ever see him go so silent so quickly. His cheeks instantly redden and his voice escapes him. His cock begins to twitch inside you, his grip on either you or the sheets becomes so fierce his scarred knuckles turn a milk white, and his mouth falls open.'

-He becomes immediately and totally helpless.

-The two of you begin to fuck harder then, chasing the high the both of you are so close to, fucking into each other faster and faster and faster until finally you are coming on his cock, and he is spraying across your thighs.

-Finding release with a mate is different than any other - it is blinding, hot, and immeasurably pleasurable. It fills every vein in your body with a molten rapture, forcing you to collapse into his body, and his own to collapse onto yours. The bond within both of your chests throbbing in delight like a second heartbeat.

-After a few moments of you practically regaining consciousness, his warm, sweat covered body begins to move against you, making sure your head is comfortable on a pillow and your body is flat. He then presses kisses all across your face, etching a smile onto your face.

-"I still believe," he whispers against your temple, "that I will never get enough. I love you I love you I love you."

-The smell of sex and sweat vanquishes your nostrils as you stand up and head to the bathroom, Az's eyes burning holes through your skin.

-By the time you return, Azriel's arms are open to you, and you tuck yourself in. He holds you impossibly close, his miniscule chest hair rubbing against your cheek. His wings add a second layer of protection.

-Your body begins to fade, but your mind lingers a little longer to process one final statement whispered into your hair.

-"Gods, never allow me to be parted from her."

Taglist: (if you would like to be added please let me know!)

@leahkenobi @notquitehero @lovelyladymayyy@seraphqueen @em---r @azaideen @katiebellf @llovelydove @tinasbookishlife @xxpeachyxo @evlyncelia @icarusave @forever-paramore28 @peachyxlynch @feyretopia @wingedmiken @moonslattes @hollyismentallyillhelp @esposadomd @redhighlady @bsenpai-blog @buttercake2234 @perssepeony @whor-3-crux @avengerswhre @mystic-sculptorture @wolfyland7 @are-y0u-serious-blog @hilism @tooobsessedsstuff @simplysensual @hernameispa @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @i-am-fascinated @seraphimluxe @just-living5 @saphiraprince22 @azsazz​ @thatonespriteobsessedbitch​ @moisyinfluencerstrawberry @bigcreatorwombatdreamer​ @azsazz

[lateatnewyork]

Misogyny

Young Adult!Nyx Archeron x Gwynriel!Daughter

Word Count: 1,264

Warnings: Misogyny (not nyx), swearing, suggestive, afab!reader, angst??

Summary: Azriel and Cassian get injured on a mission and have made the training of the two squads together. Nyx believes his boys can beat your girls. Your quick to put him in his place.

a/n: kinda inspired by prison for life by olivia rodrigo kinda not, nyx is an asshole but not in the kind of way where its toward women more like he thinks of them as equals and treats them as his boys.

"Dad? What do you mean I have to teach them with him?" I hiss. From the corner of my eye I can see Dad and Uncle Cass wince but my eyes are trained on Nyx. His usual smug smirk faltering by an inch. Twisting away from him my gaze zeroes in on Dad, who was holding an icepack to his head.

"She so got that glare from Gwyn," Uncle Cass mutters. My eyes flit from Dad for minute and switch to him "I. Am. Not. Teaching. My. Girls. With. His. Disgusting. Boys" I enunciate each word with a step toward Uncle Cassian, until I'm towering over him.

"Relax love, I'm sure the boys might be able to teach you girls something, other than getting used to losing," he comes up behind me until I can feel him breathing down on my neck. Spinning around I jab a finger into his rock hard chest. "One I'm not your love, two the only thing you'll be teaching us is how to make a guy land on his ass," I growl looking up at him. "Y/N-" I cut off my dad. "Don't start"

"Guys gather around," I say gesturing to the 10 or so girls waiting for the instruction to start sparring, "We have to train with the guys-" I got cut off by a simultaneous groan from all of them. "Don't worry guys, I completely understand you," I say sympathising with them.

"We're gonna do sparring one on one, boys vs girls." Just as the girls were about to nod. A group of rowdy boys enter the sparring center. Rolling my eyes, I head to Nyx, "Are you ready?".

"Ready to kick your asses?" A guy from the back says loudly. Ignoring him I gather them around, sighing when I see a clear line in between the two groups. "Are you always this bossy, even in bed?" Nyx says lowly. "Why you wanna find out?" I ask smirking, two can play this game.

"We're gonna be doing one on one sparring, boys vs girls," I explain. "Archeron and I will be demonstrating,".

"You really wanna show all of them you losing?" he questions out loud. "We'll see who loses in the ring, Nyx," I answer.

Heading into the ring, I stand on my side analysing his weaknesses and strengths. Me and Nyx weren't allowed to spar since the last time we did, we almost killed each other. "Powers or no?" he asks me. "No" I answer my eyes distant as I tried to guess what his first move would be. He was big and had muscle but slender enough to be able to sneak around.

Knowing him he was probably going to go straight for my legs. I let him reach for my legs, he pins me onto the mat and I groan at the feeling, gods we need softer sparring mats. Mum's gonna have to check that later. My hands are pinned at the top by one of his hands while the other, "Yield!" he yells to me. I lean up as if I'm about to kiss him and feel his arms falter, I use it to my advantage and flip him over so I'm on top. Punching his face, I grin when blood starts seeping out of his nose.

I stand up pretending to get off the mat as I knew you he was going to take the bait and try and grab me from the back. The second I feel his arms wrap around my neck I grab his arm and flip him over with such force that if not for the mat I would've broken his back.

"I told you before, one of my girls could take on all of your boys and I taught them so why would you think you could take me on?" I grin, offering him an arm to get up. He refuses it and stands up, "Men" I scoff. "Look I'll prove it, your best guy against my newest girl?" I say. "You're on" he whispers back and heads to his guys and yells out "Ben, you're up", "Violet," I say. And watch chaos ensue as his guys got taken down one by one.

"Admit it, they're better," I say walking towards Nyx and the boys, "Yeah but they'll be better in the kitchen," Me and Nyx's heads snap towards the guy who fought Violet. I stalk over to him, "The fuck did you just say?".

"You heard me, they would be better in the kitchen and taking care of children. I mean look at that one I would bend her over and f-" I cut him off by punching his nose so hard he goes staggering back.

"Don't ever talk about one of my girls like that ever again," I say my voice dropping dangerously low.

"These girls are your equals if not better," Nyx says coming up behind me, "Friendly competition is expected if not appreciated, but dropping so low as to talk about a woman as if she is an object is unexpectable, Ben I expect you to write a letter to Violet as an apology and you're no longer a part of this squad." he says nonchalantly.

After a while everyone filtered out, I smiled to Nyx who started changing out of his fighting leathers, and headed to my office. All of a sudden a sharp pain and a tug in my chest makes me gasp out loud. My head is telling me to stay put but my heart is guiding me outside the office and to the other side of the training room, an invisible string guiding me.

"Nyx did you feel that," I mumble out, "Yeah I did," he breathed out. I walked closer to him and kissed him, he stumbled against the wall behind him, I ran my hands up his bare chest and tugged on his hair as the kiss turned heated, he twisted us and picked me up. Wrapping my legs around his torso I gasped as he bit my lip, our tongues fighting for dominance.

"We told you they were mates," Gwyn says smirking at Azriel, Cassian and Rhysand.

"Pay up losers," Nesta smiles in victory. Feyre, Gwyn and Nesta look at the two lovebirds with affectionate eyes as the men behind them grumble and start to take money out.

"Shit who's gonna be the spymaster now, when Nyx rules?" Rhysand questions. Cassian stares at him dumbfounded "What do you mean, wasn't it always going to be Y/N?".

"No you idiot, Y/N's going to be High Lady now" Azriel says with a roll of his eyes.

"Can't she be both?" I say as I come up behind them all, with Nyx his arm wrapped tight around my waist.

"How did you- you were the- wha-" Uncle Cass sputters. "She's the future spymaster and future High Lady, Uncle Cass," Nyx says as if that was enough explanation.

"Anyway we just wanted to say goodbye before Nyx eats his cookie," I say with a wide grin.

"Why goodbye for eating a cooki-" Uncle Cass gets cut off by Aunt Nes, "They're accepting the bond, you big idiot,".

"We're going to go to the cabin near the end of Velaris and once we come back we'll search for a new home," Nyx says never taking his eyes off me. Nyx picks me up bridal style and as we walk off we hear Uncle Cass yell out "Can I com-" only to be cut off by a loud chorus of "CASSIAN SHUT UP!".

I giggle against Nyx's chest.

[gaysindistress]

Limits of a Fae Heart - five

Pairings: Azriel x Reader Summary: With war looming over their heads, the Inner Circle is desperate for a solution. The one they found comes in the form of a resurrected female who’s fated to not only their Shadowsinger but once to their enemy as well. Word count: 3.4k Warnings: reader is AFAB, mentions of the female body/parts, cursing, sexual content (p in v), spitting but it's hot, choking, slight dom/sub vibes, I'm actually awful at tagging things but there's smut. for the love of all things holy, do not read if you are a minor. One | two | three | four | six

taglist: @dr4g0ngirl @isa1b2h3 @sidthedollface2

Cassian has made it known several times that the tension between Azriel and I is getting on his nerves. He’s not so casually told us to get a room many times since the morning he interrupted us. It’s truly only been a couple of days but with just the three of us to keep each other company, we’re all starting to go a little mad. 

Then again watching an abandoned camp for days on end because your high lord said so would do that to anyone.

By the fourth day of watching and edging closer to the camp with absolutely nothing to show for it, Cassian approaches me as I’m sitting by the fire, trying to warm my stiff body. He plops himself down next to me and lets out a dramatic sigh as he leans back on his hands. I don’t spare him a glance and he lets out another sigh. I look over at him to see him already giving me a playful but annoyed look. 

“Yesss?” I ask as I stick my hands closer to the flames.

“When are we going to be done with this boring stake out? The camp has been abandoned for close to a week now and unless I’m blind, there’s no reason for us to be here anymore.”

“If you’re asking to go home, just ask.”

“Fine, can I go home? You and Azzie boy can stay here and stare lustfully at each other all you want but I would like to go home and have a proper bath.”

Right on cue, Azzie Boy materializes out of a pocket of shadows and glances between the two of us. A hint of jealous shots down the bond as he takes in how close Cassian and I are. It quickly disappears as Cassian scoots over with a loud huff. 

“Well what’s your answer?” he demands lightheartedly and an arched brow.

Azriel narrows his eyes at his brother and sits across from us, the flames illuminating every inch of his sun kissed face. 

“I planned on going into the camp tomorrow and if I found nothing, then we could leave but I think Azriel and I can handle it ourselves,” I say looking from Cassian to Azriel, who’s already staring at me. He was probably wondering what Cassian was referring to but realization relaxes his face and he nods in agreement. 

Cassian claps his hands together, “Alright it’s settled then. Don’t kill each other and I’ll see you two tomorrow!”

It’s almost pitiful how excited he is to return to Velaris but it’s even more pathetic how quickly he’s on his feet and flying away. 

Azriel leans back against the fallen tree that lays behind him and props one leg up as his shadows drop an apple into his awaiting palm. He’s purposely staying silent; baiting me to initiate conversation and toying with me by pulling out his beloved Truth Teller and using it to carve the red fruit with impressive precision.

His shadows dance around me meanwhile a few brave and handsy ones find their way under my sweater and undershirt and nuzzle against my bare skin. I gasp at their snuggly behavior and go to shake them out when his voice stops me. 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” 

“What does that mean?”

He chuckles as he eats a piece of apple off of the truth teller. “They don’t like when you push them away. Puts them on edge and then they don’t listen to anyone.”

I don’t heed his warning and shake them out anyways, causing them to let out a sound akin to a growl. They immediately find their way back under my clothes and practically mold themselves to my body so I can’t get rid of them so easily again. 

“Told you.”

“By the cauldron,” I groan as I attempt to swat them away, “tell them to leave me alone. They’re freezing.”

He stops his carving and looks at me curiously, tilting his head to the side slightly as his hazel eyes rake over me. “And why would I do that? They’re perfectly fine where they’re at.”

I send him an annoyed glare before I climb to my feet and walk towards the tent for another night of restlessness.

“Where are you going, sweet girl?”

“What have I said about calling me that?”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me with an intense gaze and an almost feral smirk.

“And where does it look like I’m going? To bed obviously,” I say in a clipped tone and gesture to the tent. 

“No you’re going to lay there and flop around until the crack of dawn. Come here.” The shadows imprinted onto me do their singer’s bidding and push me back towards him. 

“Excuse me!”

He cuts off what was inevitably going to be a tepid attempt at a lecture from me. “Enough of that. Come sit next to me.”

With the shadows wrapped tightly around me and pulling at me, I don’t exactly have a choice but follow their lead. They finally ease up when I’m sitting beside him, almost shoulder to shoulder and he offers me a slice of apple. 

“What’s that look for?” he asks when I look between him and the slice with a scrunched up expression.

“When did you become so commanding?”

“You have a problem with it?”

I roll my eyes at the way his plump lips are turned up in a smile and are parted to show off his perfect teeth. “I have a problem with males who think they can tell me what to do. You of all people should know that doesn’t go over well with me.”

“Maybe but I’m not just any other male now am I?”

“Yes you are.”

I go to take the slice but he pulls it away, clicking his tongue at me. “Open your mouth, pretty girl,” he murmurs to me and I know it’s a challenge designed to test my resolve.

The nickname and his low timbre sets something ablaze in me and I know I stand no chance in beating my him. His win comes in the form of my lips parting to allow the sticky sweet slice to greet my awaiting tongue. He tracks my every movement, intently watching as its juice wets my lips and my tongue cleans it up.

“It’s my job to anticipate people’s next move but you?” Azriel says with a shake of his head and goes back to carving pieces out of his half eaten apple. “Just when I think I have you figured out, you do the exact opposite of what I expected. It should frustrate me but it doesn’t. Why do you think that is, sweet girl?”

“Maybe you’re bad at your job,” jumps out with my breathy voice and he blinks at me with an arched brow. “Perhaps it’s for the better if you find a new profession or stop treating me like one of your targets. You’ll stop disappointing yourself that way.”

“Now I never said that it was disappointing.” he chides and grabs my chin when I try to look away from his soul blazing gaze, “It keeps me on my toes, never really knowing what you’re going to do.” 

“You really are like every other male; needing to be challenged but not enough to make you feel lesser. You all have this need to control.” I whisper and let my gaze fall to his lips briefly, “I’ve already told you and quite frankly shown you that I’m not one to fall in line because a pretty face told me to.”

He searches my face for a hint of humor as he holds me in place. Testing me, he leans into me and when I think he’s going to kiss me, I let my eyes flutter closed only for him to draw back. From beneath my lashes, I see a feral smirk break across his face. 

“You think I have a pretty face?”

“That’s what you took from that?”

“Answer the question.”

“You’re infuriating beautiful and I hate looking at…”

Azriel silences me with a hungry kiss, our hands desperately searching for something to hold onto as our tongues collide against each other and drink in the other’s sweet taste. His lips are soft as they slide against my own while his hands feel jagged tangling into my hair. Cold metal presses into my scalp and I can’t say that I’m surprised he didn’t drop his beloved truth teller when he launched himself at me.

My hands find their place on his chest and the nape of his neck, slowly making their way into his mess of dark waves. The soft noises that rumble through his chest when I tug at his hair emboldened me and I sharply pull, forcing him to let me lead.

He does for a moment. That is until he is shadows that are still wound around me, something I forgot about, trace over the raised lines of my hidden wings. A whimper falls from me and Azriel hungrily laps it up using his shadows to drag me into his lap. My arms wind around his neck while letting out a surprised noise when I feel his confined cock against me. We break away and that’s when I realize my breathing is so heavy that I’m almost panting but Azriel is no better. He tilts his head up again to playful nip at my bottom lip, trapping it between his teeth before letting it go and kissing the red mark on it.

I hear myself whine at the loss of his lips and heated touch but I can’t find it in myself to care. I’m slipping into the abyss of lust that is between us and pulling tight at our bond and it feels absolutely amazing. 

He’s growing cockier by the minute much to my dismay. “If you’re this flushed after a few kisses, I can’t imagine how you’d look after I’m done with you.”

With a flash of silver in the fire light, the truth teller is safely tucked away again and both of his hands come to grip my hips. He dips his head to plant wet kisses across my jaw and whispers against the supple skin of my neck, “but tell me, pretty girl, do you want that?”

Words feel pointless, coiled in my throat and morph into something else while they come out in the form of broken whines. 

“Come on, beautiful, use your words.”

I quietly mumble “yes” and let out a high pitched whine when he sucks a bruise over my pulse. He mumbles something like “good girl” as his shadows engulf us and my back hits the cold mat of my bed roll with him slotted between my legs. 

Azriel continues his attack on my neck and I lean my head to the side to grant him more access but not without teasing him. “Couldn’t walk ten feet?”

He runs his tongue up the column of my neck. “Are you complaining?” he shots back with a bold flick of his tongue of my ear lobe before taking it between his lips, sucking and nibbling on it. 

“N..no,” I try to say as my body shudders when he starts to roll his hips into mine. 

I vaguely hear his voice but I’m too caught up in the feeling of his clothed cock pressing into my core. A forceful grip on my jaw drags my attention to the male above me; his wings are flared behind him while his shadows dance around the room and curl against the both of us. Those gorgeous dark waves fall around his sculptured face and he gazes down at me with those hooded hazel eyes. 

“Keep talking to me, sweet girl. I want to hear you no matter what, understand?

I barely nod and it’s not good enough for him. He squeezes my cheeks and doubles down on his original question, “I said ‘keep talking’. I need you to tell me that you understand. That you’ll stop me if it gets to be too much.”

“Yes! Gods, yes Azriel I understand!” I moan out, already running out of patience as I arch my back and roll my hips into his, matching his pace as best as I can. 

“That’s a good girl,” he whispers before continuing his trail of blazing kisses down my neck.

I go to drag my hands down his neck but his shadows are quick to grab them and pin them above my head. He chuckles at my frustration and feeble attempts to pull my hands free as he sits back on his hunches.

With only the fire light from outside to illuminate the tent, Azriel looks like a god above me. The power that radiates off of him commands the flames to perfectly bathe every inch of his taunt and towering body. His blue siphons shimmer in the dim light, reflecting my own pathetic state back at me. If I could I would’ve turned over so I wouldn’t have to see the satisfaction on his face as he gazes down at me completely at his mercy. He makes a disapproving sound as he gently takes a leg in his hand, caressing my thigh and calf before stopping at my boots.

“You’re not going shy on me now are you, beautiful?” He murmurs against my ankle, kissing each inch he reveals as he tugs off my boot.

“Fuck you,” I choke out when more shadows join in. They replace his warm touch when he’s moved on, kneading where his hands once were and licking at the places his kisses have grown cold. Being so thoroughly surrounded by him is intoxicating and I find myself going dumb before he’s even touched me.

“Already doing that, sweetheart.”

Gods this fucking male.

Azriel repeats his actions with my other leg and moves to my pants next. We watch each other with half lidded eyes as he takes his time unlacing them and deliberately brushes his long fingers against the bare skin at my waist. When he starts the painstakingly slow motion of pulling them down my thighs, the damned shadows crawl up my torso. They drag his sweater and my thin long sleeve up my body, helping me to pull it off before tugging my bra down to shamelessly play with my breasts, groping and kneading at the tender skin.

The Shadowsinger’s eyes are blown wide, leaving only black in the place of the golden hazel as he watches them play with me. A long sinful moan is pulled from me when the shadows tug at my nipples and it seems to snap him back to reality. He pulls my pants off completely and inhales sharply when he sees the rapidly growing wet spot on my underwear. His eyes flutter closed as the scent of my arousal invades his nostrils and when they open, a fire is blazing in them. He looks devastatingly handsome staring at that spot like it’s the first glimpse of water he’s seen after weeks in the desert. 

“Beautiful, absolutely beautiful,” he mumbles more to himself while he slides his hands up to my knees and lowers himself to lay on his stomach before me. Another pair of shadows wrap around my thighs, preventing them from closing when he lightly runs his fingers over my clothed core. I writhe and struggle against my restraints with a loud huff, halting the male between my legs. 

 “Talk to me, sweet girl,” he asks in an affectionate tone, searching my face as he rests his head against the inside of my thigh. The same soothing sensation strokes at our bond and my face flushes even more as I search for the words. “What do you want?”

Light kisses are littered on my thigh as I stutter, “more… I need more.”

“More what?” he asks, forcing me to say exactly what I want. As he speaks he les his warm and wet tongue drag across the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. “More what?” he asks again with a mischievous smirk taunt on his bitten lips as he licks directly over my covered slit.

“Touch me more, Az please.” It feels terribly pathetic to beg him and I’d cover my face if the shadows weren’t tightening their hold on my wrists. 

My mate immediately drags his thick tongue over the thin fabric covering my core and mouthes at me through it. He circles my hole before flicking the tip of his tongue over my clit. Desperate please build in my chest while my brain turns to mush having him so close to where I need him but just out of reach. It’s beyond frustrating and he knows it, smirking and chuckling at me in my disheveled and starving state.

Whimpers and whines grow into loud pleas and sinfully wanton moans as he works his tongue over the soaked fabric. After about the fourth time he nearly touches my clit, I start to realize that my wordless begging isn’t going to spur him into removing the offending piece of clothing. He wants words but I won’t let myself beg again just yet.

So I try the bond, sending every ounce of lust and desire that I have down to him. His only reaction is a slight quiver of his wings and an airy chuckle against my core. 

“Nice try, sweetheart but that wasn’t what i told you to do. Remind me, what did I tell you?”

He’s completely stopped using his tongue and has moved to dragging his fingers up and down my slit.

I throw my head back with a growl at the loss of stimulation. My heart feels like it’s going to beat right out of my chest and I squeeze my eyes shut, willing it to calm down so I can think straight. The shadows are quicker than me and stop any thinking I may have done with another harsh pinch to each nipple.

“Until you can tell me exactly what you need, I’m perfectly happy to keep bringing you to the edge over and over again.”

“Fuck,” I curse under my breath. “Fuck me with your tongue, fingers, I don’t care. Just fucking get on with it already, Az.” 

“Now was that so hard?”

I go to snap at him however I’m cut short by him kissing the juncture of my thigh before he pulls my underwear to the side and lightly laps at my soaked folds. He starts slow, kitten licking and teasing me to gauge my reactions. With the shadows around my thighs, I don’t have a lot of range but I’m able to move my hips against his face enough to get some relief.

Azriel takes pity on me and his tongue, wide and rough, finds my clit the moment he licks a decisive strip up my core. His mouth becomes glued to me as he brings me closer and closer to the edge. That feeling in my lower stomach grows tighter when he sucks on my clit and pulls back to blow on it. Throwing my head back, moans fall unhindered and my hips start to move wildly against his mouth.

More shadows find their way around me, caressing and kneading everywhere they can touch. Some tangle into my hair, pulling at the strands while others grope my ass only adding to the bliss that is Azriel’s expert tongue working me into oblivion. 

He brings a hand up to let his fingers circle my hole, collecting my wetness before plunging two fingers in. He smirks against me after my hips falter and he slips his free arm under me, holding my hips up so he can bury his face into me even further. I whine and mewl as Azriel circles my clit and flicks it in time to the come hither motion he’s making with his fingers inside me.

“Az…Az, oh gods, I’m gonna..gonna cum,” I cry out. His shadows double down on their groping and massaging while he doesn’t let up eating me out like a man starved. He watches my orgasm crash over me through half lidded eyes and I try as best as I can to keep eye contact however my own eyes feel heavier than ever before. 

Azriel whispers words of reassurances and praises against my heated skin as he kisses his way back up to me. The shadows around my thighs loosen and draw light circles where their bruising grip once was. The ones on my wrists relax and caress the sore muscles from being held above my head.

“You did so well, sweet girl. So good for me,” he mumbles between labored breaths that mirror mine. I nod in agreement, cupping his face and pulling him down for a much slower kiss than before.

“So perfect, made for me…taking everything I give you,” he mutters against my lips. His wings shake out above us and mine feel like they’re about to do the same when one of the shadows dances over where they’re melding into my body.

He lets his body settle against me, once again letting his hips press into mine but now it’s unbearable. Im still sensitive and the feeling of his leather covered cock against me drags broken sobs from my chest. Like the teasing male he is, Azriel shushes me against my lips as one of his hands finds my thigh and urges my leg over his hip. With my leg around his waist, he moves us at a pace that makes us both moan into our kiss. He drops his hand next to my head while the other comes to rest on my throat, tilting my head back when he pulls away and drags his thumb over my puffy bottom lip.

“Such a pretty mouth,” he growls, staring lustfully at the way that my tongue swirls around the tip of his thumb. I suck at it and he pushes between my lips, allowing me to work it with my tongue like I would his cock. His eyes darken when I release it with a pop and a string of saliva connects us.

A heavy weight constricts my chest and pushes all of the air out of breath thanks to the tsunami of burning desire that Azriel sends to me. “Open up, sweet girl.” 

With our hips grinding slowing down and moving into a lazy, occasional jolt of pleasure, I obey. Without being told, I rest my tongue on my bottom lip, a silent agreement to what he’s about to do.

Azriel’s cock twitches against me as he spits into my mouth and I swallow it with a satisfied smirk. He curses under his breath and his cock twitches again.

And this is when we find ourselves in a rather unfortunate situation; he’s fully clothed while I’m bare save for my bra that’s been pulled under my breasts.

My pawing at his chest gives him the hint and he leans back to quickly rid himself of his leathers while his shadows keep me entertained. They flick and pinch at my pebbled nipples while sneaking down to rub me through my underwear.

The moment his clothes are off, I push myself up and climb into his lap to wrap myself around him. I kiss him like he’s the air that I need and he matches me in pace and passion.

Droplets of sweat race down his broad tattooed chest and his hair is messy and tangled. His arms, perfect matches to his chest, broad, muscular and tattooed are wrapped around me, keeping me in place as he ruts into me. He rocks his aching cock against my barely covered puffy and oversensitive clit while we devour one and other. His breath hitches in his throat when I grind down on him and my nails scrap against the base of his wings. 

“Do…do that again,” he whimpers into our kiss and I happily oblige.

I start with lightly dragging my nails against the base again before moving up the ridge of his wings. The barely there touch is enough to make him groan out and break our kiss to throw his head back in pleasure. I take my chance to assault his neck with my own kisses and bites when I repeat the motions to his wings. His hips stutter under me as my delicate touch combined with the hardness of his aching cock become too overwhelming.

Azriel groans out, frustrated that there’s still a layer of thin fabric separating us and seconds later, I feel the cold tip of the truth teller slice through my underwear. His shadows remove them from between us while he holds my hips in a bruising grip to rub my wetness against him. Back and forth, he drags the head of his cock through my folds, stealing desperate moans from my swollen lips. 

“Az,” I whine as I feel his thick tip catch against my clit, “please Az.”

He coos to me as if he’s being sweet as he continues to torture me. “Please what, sweet girl?”

“Fuck me Azriel,” comes out in broken sobs when he lines himself up and snaps his hips up, fully sheathing his thick cock in my warm heat. He waits for me to adjust to his size, only moving when I wiggle against him. He sets a brutal pace, fucking up into me in calculated and determined thrusts. The near painful hold he had on me is grounding as he pumps his dick into me and I cry out as pleasure starts to build into a second orgasm.

He pulls out only to guide me lay on my side to the bed roll and drags me against his chest, slipping in from behind. Wrapping one heavily tattooed muscular arm around my neck, he lets the other come to wrap around my middle and play with my puffy clit. The corded muscles are flexing as he holds me in place against him, ensuring that I have no choice but to take his thick cock. 

“I want everyone in Velaris to hear you,” he grunts against my ear as he sets a cruel pace from behind me. Downright sinful sounds fall from my permanently open mouth and his own beautiful sounds fill my ears when my core throbs and clenches around him.

“You can be louder, pretty girl,” he urges me while tightening his already unyielding grip around my neck. My hands sink into his arm, leaving red marks in their wake as I cry out, body trembling and writhing against him.

I tilt my head back to rest against his shoulder as we continue to move against each other. His cock drags against my walls in a painful way and my eyes flutter shut from the white hot pleasure it brings me. I’m pulsing around him and pleading with him to come with me. 

“Shush, pretty girl. Let me take care of you. Come for me, beautiful. I know you need to,” his breath feels like an inferno in my ear and I involuntarily moan at his praise. I know I can’t possibly be seen as anything other than a mess; tears streak my face and sweat collects in my hairline but none of that stops Azriel, my mate, from praising every inch of me. 

The last sharp thrust and caress of his tongue against my neck are what push me over the edge as my hands dig into his arm. His own release is almost upon him as his thrusts falter and he goes to pull out but my hand darts behind me and grips his hip.

“Come…with me.”

A dark chuckle rumbles through his chest, “you want me to come in you, pretty girl? You want me to mark you with my cum? Make it so every male who ever comes near you smells me? Is that what you want?”

“Yes, gods yes yes…please…come with me…please come in me.”

My begging sparks him to snap his hips even harder than before as he works us through our orgasms together. Both sweet and humiliating words continue to pour from his mouth between his kisses as he alternates between licking and biting at my lips. His arm loosens around my neck and shifts to cup my shoulder instead while the other grasps my hip.

“You did so well, sweet girl. So proud of you, took me so well,” he murmurs, nuzzling his face into my neck while our highs start to come down and our breathing slows. Finally our bond feels content; overjoyed that we are together and basking in the raw affection we have for each other.

I know that there is a part of it that won’t be satisfied until we accept it, until I accept him and offer him a meal that I made just for him. 

My heart skips a beat when that thought crosses my mind however this time it’s out of panic. What if’s and past traumas flash in my mind, no doubt flooding the bond with seemingly unwarranted anxiety. 

I try to pull away from Azriel but he holds me as he whispers softly from behind me, “Stay with me, my sweet girl. You’re crashing and you need affection right now. Let me help you through it.”

Panic sinks its talons into me even further, causing my heart to race, my breathing to grow too fast, the feeling of slipping into thick water without a way out to overcome. Tears spring from my eyes again and his voice sounds muffled even though it’s right next to me. 

“Breath with me.” His chest rises and falls against my back and my body falls into sync with it. The bond fills me with nothing but adoration and pure contentment, pushing away the crashing low I had begun to slip into.

“Good, just follow my breathing, just like that. You did so well, I’m so proud of you. Keep breathing with me and let me take care of you, beautiful. Let me give you the affection you need.”

For the first time ever in my life possibly, I feel safe. I feel safe in the arms of this mysterious Shadowsinger. I feel protected, cared for, and loved by Azriel, my mate.

[acourtofbooksandshadows]

Not So Routine - Chapter 1

Summary: Your life gets turned upside down when two breathtaking mates step into your boutique on what seemed to be a routine day.

Pairing: Nessian x Afab!Reader

Warnings: Talks about lingerie, swearing, saving life's, rita's, sexual innuendos..... I think that's it.

Word count:1656

Bookshelf Series Bookshelf

When you had woken up you were expecting to go about your day like usual. Wake up, get ready for work, go to your boutique, go home, eat dinner, read a novel and go to bed. That was your usual routine unless you went to dinner or to Rita’s with your friends. However the mother had something else in mind for your day instead. 

The morning started out as it usually did. You woke up, got dressed, ate breakfast and went into work. The boutique had a steady stream of customers until lunch time. Your best friend who co-owned and ran the boutique with you slipped out for lunch with her husband leaving you alone. You went through the store once making sure there was nothing that needed stocked or fixed before sitting at the counter with a book. 

“If you don’t shut the fuck up I’m going to send you back home.” Was the first thing you heard as the door to the boutique opened. You set your book down keeping your finger tucked in between the pages and observed the couple that walked in. You could smell the mating bond coming from them as soon as the door had opened. You could almost feel it vibrating the air around you from how strong it was. 

“Come on Nes, it was just a joke. Plus do you really wanna walk all the way up the stairs to get back?” The absolutely breathtaking High Fae female rolled her eyes at the equally breathtaking Illyarian male walking behind her. 

The male was dressed in a pair of loose black trousers and a loose black tunic with his hair tied in a bun. Even with the casual clothes you could sense the pure power and authority he possessed. The female had on a casual black dress that she made look ready for a ball simply because she wore it. Her hair was in a simple braid as well but even that looked good enough for a formal affair. 

“I think Azriel is down here somewhere, I’ll just go find him and ask him for a ride.” A low growl came from the male causing the female to send him a deliciously sweet smirk with a pointed look that had him shutting up. You took that time to grab your bookmark slipping it into place before setting the book down on the counter. 

“Welcome to Beauty Within, is there anything I can help you with?” At the sound of your voice they were both turning around to look at you. You recognized both of them now that you could see them up close. They were General of the Night Court and sister of the High Lady of the Night Court. A tight knot formed in your stomach under the gaze of two of the most powerful beings you’ve ever met. 

“I’m looking to have a custom lingerie set made.” Your boutique was one of the few that specialized in lingerie and especially custom pieces so the inquiry didn’t take you by surprise. Excitement bubbled up inside you at the prospect of a custom piece. You loved bringing others' visions to life. 

“When would you need the set done?” You grabbed an order sheet and something to write with and prepared to jot down the notes you’d need. 

“One weeks time would be preferred.” You nodded your head, writing down the date. That would be easy to do as custom sets normally only took a day shy of a week. 

“Do you already know the style that you’re wanting?” She nodded her head and held her hand out to the lord of bloodshed. He reached into a pocket on his pants and handed her a paper. She passed it to you with a look of pride on her face.

“Did you sketch these yourself?” The detailing on the paper was astonishing. You could see the design that she was wanting down to the last stitch come together in your head as your eyes scanned the paper quickly.

“I did, yes.” It was something she started to do when she was younger. Sketching gowns and jewelry she hoped to one day wear and own. It had been years since she’d sketched anything though. But she was wanting a new set of undergarments since her mate had torn the majority of hers to shreds. 

“These are actually some of the best sketches I’ve ever seen. If you’re ever looking for a job I’d love to employ you.” You knew your best friend wouldn’t mind you extending an offer of employment to the Female standing in front of you once she saw the sketches that she was capable of. She seemed to ponder the invitation for a couple of seconds while the tall male beside her eyed her curiously. 

“I think I’d like that.” The Illyarian gave her a bewildered look, his mouth hung open and eyes wide. Of all the things he’d seen his mate do or say that was somehow the most surprising. 

“Nesta you are in no need of a job. Between my money and Rhysand you have no need for any.” He was right in that aspect. Rhysand had been very generous with his money since her life saving act months ago.  

“I get bored sometimes, Cassian.” she said as she simply shrugged her shoulders and dismissed him. She wouldn’t tell him but she felt like it would give her a sense of normalcy. Not that she’d ever had a job before but she felt like it would make her feel more human to have one. 

“That’s fantastic, we can talk more about it when you come to pick up this set.” You couldn't help the smile that graced your face at the confirmation that she would be joining your business. You weren’t in need of help but you had a feeling she’d be a great addition. 

“My measurements are on the paper with the sketches. I am going to go and look around the store for a few items. You can talk to Cassian about payment.” She didn’t say or do anything else before walking away from the counter. Cassian gave you a beaming smile and your belly flipped a little. You kept a look of indifference on your face however not wanting the mated pair to get suspicious that you were attracted to them both. 

You finished filling out the form before handing Cassian the paper for him to sign and pay. Once he handed it back to you, you attached the sketch’s and filed it accordingly. He took the time to start wondering about the racks of Male and Female satin, lace, silk and velvet delicates. Since Nesta was also looking around the store you took the time to open up your book and dive back into it. The scene was turning heated and you were intently focused on it when a voice piped up in front causing you to slam the book shut.

“You seem pretty interested in that book. What’s it about?” Your face heated at her words and you went to speak but coughed instead. Cassian had come up to the counter at the commotion. You glanced between the two before clearing your throat and answering her question.

“It’s a romance novel.” Her eyes got a mischievous glint in them as she read the cover. She placed one of her hands against the counter and leaned towards you ever so slightly. 

“I’ver read quite a few books from that author. They are actually one of my favorites.” You gulped as her eyes pinned you to your chair. In your line of work you rarely got flustered: but there was something about the way they handled themselves that had every ounce of practiced self control you had flying out the window. 

“Oh that's gotta mean that the book has some fun scenes in it then.” Cassian's eyebrows did a ridiculous suggestive wiggle as the words left his mouth. If your face wasn’t heated before it definitely was now. You glanced at the front of the book before glancing back up and meeting Nesta’s eyes. 

“So what’s it about?” Her tone was even as she spoke. She was confident and wasn’t going to have you shying away from her question no matter how flustered you became. 

“It’s about a throuple. A male and two females. It captures the ups and downs of their relationship and how they handle being together. There are in fact some fun scenes within the story.” Your eyes glanced at Cassian at the end of your sentence, confirming what he had assumed earlier.

As your eyes met his hazel ones, your breath was knocked out of you. You dug your fingernails into your palms and unconsciously started to chew on the inside of your cheek. Your eyes flickered towards Nesta as she hummed from beside Cassian and your skin felt like it was lit on fire. You swayed slightly in your chair and blinked slowly trying to clear your blurred vision. Your body was swarming with foreign feelings. 

“Are you feeling alright?” Concern was placed within Cassian’s words. The only emotion shown from Nesta was a singular twitch of her well groomed eyebrows. You gave them both a swift nod and stood up quickly. Which may have been a mistake as you swayed again. But you steadied yourself by gripping the counter in front of you. 

“Did you find anything you’d like to purchase today?” Nesta’s face remained blank but her eyes held questions that she was going to leave unasked. She and Cassian placed their items on the counter and you quickly rang them out. As they exited through the front door your chest began to ache. You watched as the gold threads connecting you to the two that were just standing in front of you flickered and vibrated. The word mates was ringing through your head like a bell.

A/N:Like I said in my sneak peek I'm not sure if there will be more parts to this. If anyone does want another part please let me know! As always likes,comments, reblogs are all very much appreciated.

Tags(open): @wolfsbane44 @moonlwghts @maddietheshoe @hyemishii @fanboyluvr @kmc1989 @acourtofinkandpapyrus @luvmoo

[foreverrandomwritings]

Alliance Maker-Chapter 1

Summary: Nesta and Cassian find you in just the nick of time. Reconnecting with familiar faces doesn't go exactly how you planned however.

Pariring: Slow Burn! Azriel x Afab!Reader

Warnings: Blood, fighting, illusions to assault, swearing, death and weapons.

Word Count: 1167 (This part is short but the other parts are longer)

Masterlist Series Masterlist

It had been Cassian and Nesta that found you. Nesta had convinced Cassian to take her on a trip near the border for a couple days. Claiming she needed a break from Velaris. That she wanted to explore Pyrthian. But really it had been a pull toward the border that had her wanting to go.

She had somehow found a way to get him to take her on a flight in the early morning of their second day there. She simply said she felt like being a part of the clouds. Cassian didn’t question her, he had learned long ago it wasn’t wise to do so. It was when they were close to the border between Night and Day that they heard it. A beast roaring loudly causing the trees to shudder around them. 

Cassian was going to bank away from the noise not wanting to dive into anything without his numerous weapons. Nesta had only allowed him 2 daggers for their flight. But Nesta urged him to go to the noise. When he went to protest she gave him a stern look telling him not to argue. Then they were swiftly turning right towards the cry of anger. The sight they saw was not what they expected. 

There was a leather clad Fae with wings fighting a tailed beast beefy and wide with razor sharp teeth. Cassian had seen the beast before and knew to stay away as they were known for the slow deaths they would inflict on their prey. He glanced at Nesta and all she did was nod. So he was landing them near the fight. 

Your feet were gliding across the snow covered ground. It almost looked like you were teasing the beast as you moved. He waited a moment sizing up how she was fairing before deciding he was going to jump in. As he readied for the attack he heard your  voice cut through the wind. 

“Oh fuck off.” You said as you landed a killing blow to the beast. As the sword sliced through the beast's eye into his head it let out a roar that had trees falling down all around them. With its last bit of energy it swiped a mighty paw out and sliced through your leathers into your abdomen. Then with its last breath but a whisper in the wind it was laid across the forest floor. 

You whipped your head around as you heard someone clear their throat. Relief was flashing through your eyes as your gloved hand moved to your stomach. Nesta stared at you swearing she knew you from somewhere but not knowing how. She racked her brain for any sort of explanation to why she’d know you. You cocked your head to the side as you saw the unspoken question in her eyes. 

“Ahh come on Nes don’t hurt my feelings now.” You said with a playful tone, noticing the way Cassian stood straighter angling for an attack. You glanced his way briefly before turning around towards the beast and pulling your sword from its eye. You wiped the purple blood onto its fur. Using your wrist you twirled the sword around in a show off gesture before seething it into its place on your back. 

It was then that the memories came flooding back to Nesta. You were from her village, the daughter of the town blacksmith. You were one of the only people Nesta could stand in the putrid place. She didn’t know how she could forget the female that had kept her sane all those years. 

“How?” She asked you hesitantly, pausing a moment as she glanced towards your wings.

“How are you here?” She finally said with more conviction in her tone. 

“I would really love to chat but I’m about a few moments away from complete blood loss. So is there any way we can table this conversation for later?” You asked her with the same playful tone as earlier. It was then she noticed the paleness of your skin. You had sweat starting to run down your face as you pushed your hand a little harder into your stomach. 

Cassian and her both looked down at the action, noticing the blood pooling at your feet. Cassian started to advance towards you. His plan was to try and stop the bleeding but you were wincing away from him the second he moved. You shook your head lightly as you stared at Nesta. A silent plea dancing through your eyes. One she wished she could understand. 

“I don’t like when males touch me.” You let out breathlessly as you started to shake. The cold wind finally seeping through the thick fleece of your leathers. 

“I can’t fly or winnow us anywhere. He’s our way out.” You just shook your head again at her words. The mated pair were both surprised when you shuddered and your wings disappeared. 

“I can’t let him touch me.” You said trying to stay on your feet. Cassian and Nesta shared a look. Silently trying to figure out what to do with you if you wouldn’t let him touch you. Nesta slowly moved towards you as Cassian watched you. Ready to take you down in case this was some kind of ruse. You let out a shaky breath as Nesta pressed her hands against yours. 

Then with a blink of an eye there were two more bodies in the clearing. You turned your head to see who it was which finally caused the dizziness to catch up with you and you swayed on your feet. Before you could hit the ground Nesta was catching you in her arms. She slowly sunk to the cold ground holding her against yours as they grew slack. Your vision cleared briefly enough for you to see the High Lord and the High Lady of the Night Court.��

As you lay there barely conscious in Nestas grasp Rhysand attempted to enter your mind. Instead of a wall of steel, iron, flowers or any other form of defense he had come across he came upon something that had him reeling back. He met a wall of flames and screams. His head throbbing from the burn left inside his mind. You simply curled into Nesta, trying to steal some of the heat radiating off her body. 

“We need to get her to Madja.” Feyre finally spoke. They all jumped into action then. Rhysand stepped to the pair on the ground to winnow them back to Velaris. But Nesta put a hand up to stop him shaking her head as she continued to look at you. 

“She doesn’t want a male to touch her.” She spoke weakly, dread seeping into her bones as she looked at you in her arms. 

“I can do it, Rhys.” Feyre reassured as she moved towards the females, a comforting hand placed upon his arm. He gave her a simple nod moving towards Cassian. Then within a breath they were in the wind heading towards Velaris.

A/N: This is what I imagined the beast to look like! I'm so excited to continue this series! Likes, Reblogs and comments are all greatly appreaciated!

Tags(open): @theeleggymeggy @wolfsbane44 @moonlwghts @maddietheshoe @hyemishii

[az-cain]

“when cassian and azriel and reader come to get feyre and lucien from eris, the bond between the reader and eris snaps and like eris takes the reader but not to the castle where beron is and it’s like enemies to lovers!! you can make beron die in the war so eris is high lord”

eris vanserra x reader ≈ 505 words masterlist here

request from @in-some-fandoms except its a little bit of an unedited word-dump and not multi chapter (or even single-chapter,, this is just a snippet of what could be) (does anyone wanna finish this?? bc i feel like she has potential) <3

anywho, its peregryn!reader x high lord!eris, have fun yall. and if i do finish writing it myself i might end up making the reader afab non binary because 😭 where r my genderqueer x readers

—

The frigid weather affected you only minimally, your wings tightening ever so slightly as you dove down behind your brothers onto the surface of the frozen lake. You spread those white, feathered wings wide, landing delicately on your feet like a dancer after a leap, blades drawn.

Your eyes focused quickly on Azriel and Lucien, engaged with the High Lord’s brothers. The fiery-haired fools were tiring quickly, their blades slowing in the bleak weather.

You spotted your High Lady across the ice, Eris’ hand wrapped into her hair. Cassian’s lips were moving, but the blood rush of a fight prevented you from thinking too hard about it.

As you stalked up quietly behind the High Lord of Autumn, you angled your blade to slice through Feyre’s hair. Your feet padded silently on the ice, the quiet taps unable to be heard over the clashing of blades.

In one smooth movement, you’d mirrored the position he had Feyre in, had your blade poised to cut, and your mouth by his ear. “Surprise,” you whispered, and sheared the High Lady’s hair clean off where it met Eris’ hand.

In another smooth movement, you’d clasped his wrists behind his back with one hand, forcing a knee into his back. “Hush now,” you whispered viciously, “and let the big kids discuss the mess you’ve made.”

His head turned slightly, his eyes meeting yours, and in that moment your worst dreams came true.

A thin ribbon of flame burst between your chest and the High Lord’s, and in an instant he had his wrists freed from your grasp and his arms around one of your legs. As he pulled it out from under you, everything went black.

—

When you woke, you were lying on red silk sheets in a bed-frame made of rich dark wood, in a room that looked fit for a god. Disoriented, you rolled suddenly off of the bed and onto your feet. Your wings shot out, attempting to steady you as you rose. The room, you now noticed, was spacious and lush, much like the bed, and decorated in shades of amber and ochre. The walls were cream with golden trim, as were the pillars that reached from the wood floors to the arched ceiling, and the wardrobe was draped in rich velvets.

The bedside table had a piece of paper on it, seemingly folded very carefully and set there. You picked it up reluctantly, unfolding it as though it were a bomb.

Y/N,

I understand that you may be a bit reluctant to get to know me after the way we met, but you and I both know what happened yesterday on the lake. I’m sorry for the way I had to get you here, really.

If you’d like to take more time to rest, feel free to shout anything you need out your door, which I’m afraid is locked. You understand why it’s necessary. If you’d like to eat, let me know when I come up to see you at noon.

Deepest apologies, Eris.

masterlist here

[crumbledcastle28]

Azriel Shadowsinger: Inertia

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Request: "Hello, I just finished reading your most recent Az work & it was so wonderful ❤️ & I was wondering if you are still taking requests? If so, I was thinking maybe one where reader is helping Az into his leathers and like tying all his armor into place and stuff before he goes off to the war (or just a dangerous mission) and then after he comes back reader also helps him take it all off & just go to bed🥺❤️ If you have time or feel inspired to write this, I would appreciate it."

Warnings: blood, descriptions of gore, knives, cuts, vivid descriptions of anxiety, descriptions of scars, nudity, nightmares, bruises, kissing, very much off canon, pretty much just hurt comfort.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Thank you very much to the person who requested this to me. I am so sorry I cannot find your username anymore, but I hope I have done justice to your idea. And of course thank you to my readers for all the love on my recent fics :)

If you'd like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

SJM Masterlist

(pic credit to pinterest)

The Spymaster of the Night Court liked to think he was split in half. Two persons in one body.

The first, the Shadowsinger. Carynthian. One of the most powerful Illyrian warriors to ever exist. Member of the most powerful High Lord's inner circle. Servant of his shadows and infamous throughout all of Prythian.

The second, completely, utterly, entirely owned by the female in his arms.

Your breaths spanned across his chest like waves on sand, spreading across his skin like water, leaving trails of chills in their wake. Your nude body was warm, silky, and serene, rested completely on top of him as if you were holding him down against his will.

In reality, Azriel prayed he died like this. Fully encapsulated by you and only you.

Your body rose as he inhaled and lowered as he exhaled. Your tiny squeaks of breath were a rush of blood to his head. He continually ran his scarred hands across your back and down your spine as you slept, soaking in the feeling of your skin and the storm within his chest at bay. He knew it wouldn't be for long.

He seemed to always be running out of time.

As the minutes ticked on, made apparent by the wooden clock next to his bed, he could feel the first half of his self slowly taking over the second. He could feel the blood lust, the cool rage, the hardening of his heart already beginning to take place. With his mate in his arms, it felt wrong, like he was holding glass his body was itching to drop.

Because of this, he kissed you.

"Y/N," he mumbled against your lips, kissing you again. "Y/N."

He was met with a lucid groan deep within your throat, and he kissed you again.

"I have to go."

With those words your eyes opened, and Az was blinded by their radiance, as he is every day. The area around your eyes was slightly puffed from sleep, adding to the intimacy and mundanity of simply waking up together. Azriel wished he could drink it. Pour it into a glass to perhaps sip on later, when the half of himself he was becoming less and less proud of as the years went on became too much.

You rubbed at said eyes, your body heat against his warming at your increasing blood flow. You leaned forward, propping yourself up and away from him. He sat up with you and wrapped an arm around your waist.

He was desolate without your touch, desperate for as much of it as he could have before having to leave it.

"I'm up," you whispered, yawning. "I'm up."

He chuckled and tucked his mouth against your neck, kissing just underneath your jaw. The softest, most favorite area of his to kiss on you. Your pulse thumping against his lips. Your very life against his mouth.

He was going to fucking miss you.

You pulled him away from you to give his lips a peck before scooting down to the edge of the bed, standing completely up, and stretching your spine and shoulders. Rolling them backwards and forwards, side to side. The line down your back was accentuated as you did this, as well as the shade of your skin in the rising sun.

If Azriel had the choice, he would have kept you in that bedroom all day, and all night, and for all of eternity.

You then made your way across the room to a cushioned chair, draped with every piece of his leathers laid out and ready. He hated the look of it - these agents of carnage on such delicate fabric. It felt absurd, almost sinister.

What was worse was the image of you walking towards them and lifting his tunic into your arms. You faced him, holding it at the ready, and he got up from bed with a sigh. It was deep, bottomless.

He stayed standing anyway.

He walked to you, also nude, and held eye-contact as he did. Your eyes were sunken and sad, but in a way that was not vibrant or pungent. It was in a way that showed you were used to this sadness and fear, that you and your body knew how to handle it.

Always running out of time.

He held up his arms and you slid the tunic over his head. You then turned back around and retrieved his pants, allowing him to step into them. As you buttoned them securely, making sure they were tight enough for his comfort, you began to speak.

"Where to today?" you asked, and despite the dread growing in his stomach, he smiled.

You always asked him for details of his missions before he left for them, desperate for any and every characteristic of them. He always wondered why you did this. He didn't know if you wanted an image of everything that could go wrong, everything that could go right, or even a bit of both.

Part of him wanted to know, but most of him did not.

"Rhys is worried," Azriel replied. "Beron is getting worse, according to Eris anyway, and plans on meeting with the mortal queens in the Autumn Court tonight at dusk. Eris is meant to sneak me in so I can get a read on what they're planning."

You hummed, finishing off his pants and reaching behind you to add his vest. You then began adding his padding, and your eyes remained focused on his body.

"You don't like that?"

You shrugged. "I don't trust Eris."

He nodded, helping you smooth the vest down comfortably to his body. "I wish I could disagree with you."

You looked up at him then, leaving your hands on his pecks. "You shouldn't be going alone."

"I have to," he replied. "Cassian can't be incognito for shit."

You smiled faintly, but the dull fear remained.

"Besides, I'm never alone," he said, gesturing behind him. "My shadows will keep me safe, alert me if something is going wrong, and protect me."

Your breath was warm against his face as you said, "And you will get out of there if they tell you to, if your gut is telling you to."

He held your face in his hands. "I will get out of there, and I will come back home."

You nodded, still unconvinced, but kissed him anyway.

You then added his pauldrons to his legs and thighs, smoothing them against his pants and assisting him with his boots, before finally latching on his shoulder and stomach spaulder. He could feel some tension relieve on your shoulders as you did this, allowing the knowledge that despite entering enemy territory, he was still protected. His heart and vital organs were protected by the best Rhysand could get.

He could see a little bit of his mate come back into herself as you processed that knowledge. It wasn't enough, he knew that, but it helped you, and that was more than enough for him.

You gave the covering a quick jab, both to test the strength and cut the tension, sending Az staggering back a few steps. You both smiled at each other as he found his footing.

"How does a warning sound for next time?" he chuckled.

"Tell that to your fancy shadows," you countered, and he shook his head, his eyes a glowing gold.

Never enough time.

You then picked up his gloves from the cushioned chair, and held the pair of them in one hand while taking his left hand in the other. You rubbed a thumb down his scars, tracing each divot and crease, before pressing a swift kiss to his palm. You then pulled the matching glove on over the skin, and repeated the process with his right hand.

That act, that simple kiss and touch, was more intimate and profound than any act of sex the two of you had ever and would ever share to him. It showed him that you acknowledged it for what it was - painful, foreign, damaged - but also saw it for its beauty. Its symbolism of survival and strength. Its necessity for him to become the male he was today.

It's safe to say he cried like a true Illyrian baby when you kissed him like that the first time, and teared up every time after that.

After his gloves were on him comfortably, you put on the finishing touches of his leathers before taking a few steps back, you admiring him, and him admiring you. Him wrapped in wealth and power, shadow and danger, death and cool, icy focus on his objective. You, bare to him, soft, vulnerable, pure, stripped clean of anything and everything except for who you truly were.

On Azriel's dark days, he believed that in that moment, you both were who you truly were.

You looked him up and down, the playfulness and peace from a few moments before slowly dissipating from the air, and he pulled you back to him when he saw the fear enter your eyes again. The rough leather against your soft skin made him feel dirty, nauseous even at the thought of you getting anywhere close to the person he became when he wore them, but he pushed the feeling to the side as best as he could.

"I will come home," he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. "I will come home."

You nodded, eyes slowly lining with tears, and he elected to console you with touch. Bestowing kisses against your hairline, down your temples, across your cheeks, down your nose, and nearly against your lips.

Never to your lips. It was his silent promise that he would be back, and he would kiss you well.

He pressed one last kiss against your mouth before departing from the room, not looking back, the first half of his personhood taking control, and the cool focus of the Spymaster and Shadowsinger of the Night Court overtook his being completely.

~*~

Azriel's wish came true. He could disagree with you about not trusting Eris, because he was the only reason Azriel got out of there undetected, unscathed, and uninjured.

Azriel did not, however, trust him to keep his fucking mouth shut. The entire way there and back, constantly vague, rogue comments about Mor never telling anyone the full story of what happened between her and him, how Rhys was too much unchecked power, and how Nesta would be much happier elsewhere.

Azriel's heart went out to the male, knowing how he was treated at home and the abuse he had endured from his father, but that didn't mean he never wanted to clock his teeth in.

Despite the fact that Azriel was coated in sweat and mud, exhausted beyond belief, his inertia that was fueled by adrenaline was slowly fading, and that he desperate to be horizontal, when Eris suggested stopping at an Inn until morning, Azriel would not budge.

"I'm going home," he responded, "with or without you, I'm going home."

Eris was smart enough to keep his mouth shut for the rest of the journey.

After days that felt like weeks, Azriel was at your doorstep - sore, tired, but so fucking happy he could barely contain himself. He knocked, a pattern of one-two-one, but the door nearly flew off its hinges before his second beat. He was met with only a flash of your face through his hazed, swollen eyes, before you wrapped yourself around him, colliding with him in an embrace unique to lovers. One of complete surrender and relief, and he met you head on, holding you so tight to him he raised you off the ground and could feel your ribs squeezing against him so harshly it was painful for the both of you.

Neither of you felt any pain, only relief, and true completeness.

He tucked his head in your neck, listening to your pulse and kissing that spot he loved so much, as you ran your hands through his hair.

"Azriel," you whispered against him, "Azriel."

He put you down and looked into your eyes. "What?"

You smiled, only mischief, play, and knowing written on your face. A look that said, "pay up."

He gladly obliged.

He didn't kiss you softly, or slowly, or reverently. He kissed you like he had been wanting to for days - hungrily. He was starving, aching for you in a way that he was unable to describe. It was down to his bones, the tether in his chest clamoring to connect with its other half.

He felt whole again, and he wanted the feeling forever.

His kisses slowed down as he pushed you into the house, shutting and locking the door behind him without leaving your lips. The two of you could not stop fucking smiling as you moved into the bedroom, and he sat himself down on the cushioned chair. You climbed onto his lap, kissing him with only love, only passion.

You slowly pulled away after a few more short kisses to frame his face with your hands, caressing his skin, looking into his eyes, reaffirming what you already knew.

The most beautiful male you had ever known was completely, utterly, entirely yours.

You could not deny, however, that his under-eyes were a dark shade of violet, as well as the area around them puffy and red.

He was tired.

"Come on," you whispered, climbing off of him. "Stand up."

You pulled him to his feet, his stance unsteady and weak, and began to pull his leathers off, piece by piece. You set them back onto the chair behind you delicately, but quickly, as the male standing before was practically sleeping standing up.

He couldn't help it. His chest was warm. His heart was full. His love was back in his arms.

After removing every inch down to his tunic and boots, he pulled you back up to his mouth, and you kissed him softly. Your fingertips lined his jaw while his gripped your waist.

You kissed him once, twice, three times before pulling away. "You need to sleep."

He blinked, then blinked again. Like he was trying to wake up from a dream. "You're right."

You chuckled and led him to bed, helping him to lay down. You then stripped yourself of all your clothing and tucked yourself in beside him. His eyes were already closed, his breaths were already evening, but with one last burst of energy, he pulled you into his chest, laying you on top of him the same way he did on your final morning together. He kissed you one last time, and you could have sworn he was asleep already when he mumbled against your mouth.

"Told you I'd come home."

You smiled against his neck, listening to the sounds of him in sleep and whispered, "I missed you."

For once, the two of you had all the time in the world.

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[crumbledcastle28]

Azriel Shadowsinger: Young God

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader (afab; she/her)

Request: “Okay I’m annoying you with these now hehe sorry. But I have another idea/request. You know how in angst Azriel x reader oneshots it’s always the reader who’s in love with Azriel and he’s in a relationship? How about we switch that and make it so Azriel is in love with an unavailable reader?” @aroseinvelaris

Excerpt: “He looked up at you like a boy, a little boy, who had been pushed too far. And yet, at the same time, the Azriel who quickened your heart with only a glance was still there, giving his face and body the look of what you could only describe as a young, bleeding god. Covered in sweat and tears and blood, his hair soaked with the same alloy, he was a fallen angel, begging for mercy.

His eyes said to you make it stop. Please, make it end.

“Az,” you whispered, and he fell into your arms.

Your brain instantly tore you in half. You had never felt so overjoyed and crestfallen in the same moment.”

Warnings: illyrian!reader, jealous!azriel (so yummy), idiots in love, reader has sex with someone else, heavy swearing, kind of toxic reader and az, drinking, mating bond, punching bags, blood, kissing, and our lord of bloodshed and high lord make an appearance.

Word Count: 3.7k 

A/N: I have been sitting on this request forever, and I feel I am finally capable of doing it justice. I hope you enjoy @aroseinvelaris, thank you again for your request.

A/N 2: I’m a lot a little rusty with acotar vernacular and Azriel descriptions. so please be kind. This is also incredibly not canon.

SJM Masterlist 

If you would like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated :)

The last thing you wanted to do in the infamous, disreputable Windhaven War-Camp was drink, but with the presence of its current war lord, you were really fucking tempted to.

You could hear his remarks from a multiple tables away. 

 Training females, a waste of resources if you ask me.

What the fuck else does Rhysand expect of us? To put bitches in our camps? On our front lines?

Rhysand’s dogs wish they could prove what we do to with them after their training.

He was a cocksucking pig, and that was enough of an excuse for you to bring a cup of wine to your lips and practically guzzle it down.

“You hear him too?” said the Lord of Bloodshed to your right, or as you knew him, just Cass.

You nodded, taking another sip despite the sour grapes coating your tongue, and his leathers squeaked as he leaned forward on his chair. He was gripping his own glass like a sailor dangling over a hull.

“Mother help me,” he replied.

“Mother help us all,” you countered, and Cassian chuckled.

“And Rhysand most of all,” he replied, gesturing across the crowded dining area.

Rhys was elbows-deep in documents, going over how exactly Windhaven was functioning under his rule with the other war lords. You didn’t blame him. With Ironcrest continuing to defame him and grip onto their dissent, Rhysand couldn’t afford to lose anyone else.

He would never admit that, of course, but after over a century of spying for him, you had your ways of reading him; shoulders tight, back hunched, eyebrows creased, and chin resting on his palm. Yeah, he was a bit stressed out.

If only you could read another Illyrian in the room’s body language so well.

You and Cassian sat and drank for some time, grateful Rhys trusted you to be his backup but simultaneously regretting ever joining him in the first place, before the rest of your backup arrived.

You begged your heart not to quicken. The alcohol was already fucking with your head enough.

Azriel sat in the seat to your left, his distinct musk of cool air, leather, and shadows breezing by you as he did, and poured himself a glass of his own.

“Notice anything?” Cassian asked him as he poured, well aware that your heart was in fact quickening, but Az shook his head.

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

You nodded as he sipped his drink, leaning back into his chair. His wings and chest widened, giving your peripheral vision the perfect angle of his leathers. Him and Cassian had gone all out - adorned with every dagger, cuirass, pauldron, and gauntlet you could think of, in addition to their shimmering siphons bouncing off every metallic object in the hall. You blended in with them as best as you could.

Except, of course, the fact that you were a female.

Az’s voice ripped you from your thoughts. “I would feel more confident if Y/N did my route over again after dinner is served. Would you be okay with that?” 

You nodded without looking at him, and were surrounded by silence once more.

The three of you continued to keep your eyes open, scanning the room for any sudden movements, suspicious glances, or unnecessary walks towards your High Lord. Your body besieged you to get up and get away from the male beside you. Escape the nervous energy he always seemed to coat you with made especially worse given the fact that you were surrounded and outnumbered by enemies, made your fight-flight-or-freeze response ache with strain.

The alcohol wasn’t helping the feeling at all. You needed something else. Right then and right there to make your heart pound and sweat pour from your pores.

With one glance to your right, you spotted your solution.

“Is that who I think it is?” Cassian asked, following your line of sight, and you grinned.

Ozia. A name perfect for his image in your mind.

Azriel followed your gaze as well, his spine straightening and his eyes squinting, and looked back to you with a look that could only be described as a mix of puzzled and panicked.

The male’s hazel eyes met yours across the hall, and in that moment, you knew exactly where your night was going to end.

The male was tall and chiseled, skin tanned and freckled, and his hair was brown and curly. It hung over his eyes slightly, etching his curved nose and pouted lips perfectly. He was quiet, reserved, but one of the few Ilyrian males you had ever found yourself able to trust. You had met him the last time you had visited Devlon, enforcing Rhysand’s rule of training before chores with an iron fist, and Ozia had backed you up completely. He explained that he had even started taking the females back to his home to teach them proper stretching and breathing techniques, and his support made your trip infinitely easier.

Maybe that was the reason you had ended up in his bed, or maybe it was because of his borderline piercing resemblance to the male on your left. Either way, Cassian had never teased you as relentlessly as he had the day he had found out - you still had no fucking idea how - and with the look in his eye as his gaze bounced between you, Ozia, and Az, he was not going to let this one go either.

Not a morsel of you cared. It was infinitely better than sitting in the want of a male you could never have.

You finished off your wine before standing up, scraping your wooded chair against the floor as you did. Azriel looked up at you and, likely having put the two pieces together, asked, “What about dinner?”

Your excitement to escape him caused you to overlook the venom in his tone.

“I’m not hungry,” you responded, and made your way towards the male you knew, and away from the one you wish you did.

                                                          ~*~

Azriel willed himself to remember a word of what Cassian had said to him from the moment you left to the moment he finally made his escape, but as he trekked up the creaky, circular stairs to his dust-ridden bedroom for the evening, he could not recall a single word.

Not after the look in your eyes as you looked at the male across the room, the grin tracing your teeth as you eyed him, and the way your hips moved as you walked to him. Not after Azriel could not eat more than a few bites of the chicken soup provided for them without becoming queasy at the thought of what that male - Ozia - was doing to you, what you were doing to him. Not after the blow to his heart after waiting for you to walk his route with him, as you had agreed to, and you never showing. 

And especially not now, as he prepared himself for the necessity of passing your room in order to get to his own.

With the alcohol muddling his mind and the exhaustion in his muscles from one of the longest days he had experienced in recent memory, he thought he could pass it by without a second thought. He was in the clear at the top of the steps, throat closing and head pounding, but as he made his way past your door, his hope dissolved like a sugar in tea.

He didn’t hear you, or him, or have any proof that you were together in your room in any way...

... except for the smell of it.

He had never hated anything more..

The smell of you - you - that he had gotten to know so well. Vanilla and green tea with just a hint of rose, a mixture true to who you were at your core, mixed with the smell of someone else. It was sex and sweat and spit and sheets and you so much of you and so much of him.

It was acrid, pungent, and so fucking heart shattering that he had to put his hand to his chest to ensure his heart was still beating.

He wanted to keel over in pain, rip his heart out of his chest, shatter every window in the cabin, and rip you away from him all in the same moment.

But he just kept on walking, ignoring the tether in his chest pulling him back to you more than anything else.

                                                       ~*~

If Azriel thought that night was long, he was not ready for the morning after.

At breakfast, you reeked of him, yet the smile on your face was what burned Azriel to a crisp. As the four of you traveled home, you and Cass snuck glances at each other like two females who knew something Azriel didn’t. When you finally reached the House of Wind, you immediately went up to bed, mumbling something about how you hadn’t managed to get much sleep anyway.

He hadn’t either.

As you headed upstairs, Azriel headed down, vibrating with an energy he could not describe. All he knew was that he wanted it off of him. He needed everything he was feeling inside of him off and away it was cutting him so deeply - 

“Hey,” came a voice, the arm attached to it finding its place on Azriel’s shoulder. He turned, startled to finally feel his body after living solely in his head, and was met with violet.

“What’s going on?” Rhys asked, and Azriel softened a bit from the look of concern in his eyes.

After centuries of having brothers - real brothers - he still wasn’t used to being loved.

“I’m fine,” Azriel replied, and Rhys raised his eyebrows. “Honestly, I am. Just overtired, and sick of Illyrians.”

As if on cue, Cassian walked through the house with a dagger in one hand and an even bigger bottle of liquor in the other, likely headed upstairs to bring said items up to his mate.

He turned to look at his observers as he made his way up, exclaiming proudly, “I picked the dagger out myself.”

Rhys and Az looked at each other after he reached the top, and Rhys chuckled, patting Azriel on the shoulder. “You and me both, brother.”

                                                     ~*~

 Azriel couldn’t remember how many punching bags he’d sent flying across the training room’s floor. He didn’t fucking care.

All he knew was that the feeling inside of him was not stopping.

He had done pushups until he collapsed, a plank until he dropped, crunches until he puked, and now he was punching the bags without any wrapping protecting the skin of his hands. He would take anything else - anything else - in place of this anguish. He could still smell it, couldn’t stop picturing it, and every time his brain seemed to release him from the torture of its vividity, it would snap back in almost instantly like a punch to his stomach.

He’d been hit many times, but nothing that felt like this. It was a feral, dirty, venomous beast inside of him tearing him apart with its nails and teeth. His arms were jelly, his hands were spilling clumps of blood, but it still wasn’t enough. The beast was relentless, beating Azriel no matter what he did.

His chest ached so badly. The thought of you kissing Ozia.

Punch.

Tasting him. 

Punch. 

Feeling him.

Punch.

Laughing with him.

Punch.

Smiling at him. Enough to crinkle your irises. While Azriel waited for you.

Punch.

And possibly even loving him.

A punch, a crack, and a scream echoed through the chamber, and Azriel smiled with victory as his body finally gave out on him.

                                                          ~*~

You woke covered in sweat, an unidentifiable scream echoing through your mind like a stone in an empty cave, and a searing pain etching its way down your right hand. Tears coated your eyes as you sat up, hissing as the throbbing made it down to your fingertips.

The scream continued to reverberate all the while.

“Fuck,” you whispered, your hand laying limp by your side. You felt stupid for crying. You had broken your hand before.

But your hand wasn’t broken.

You attempted to wiggle it around, flexing your fingers and widening your grip, and the pain slowly faded to a dull ache. You wiped your eyes as you pushed down onto the mattress with it, attempting to gauge how harsh the pain was engrained your bones.

The searing sensation returned.

“Fuck,” you whispered again, and scooted off the bed and onto your feet. The sun had begun to rise outside your window, illuminating you with gold as you walked into the hall and down to the kitchen. 

Your mind muddled with pain and sleep so harshly that you relied on your body to navigate for you, allowing it to think for you. You didn’t even know why you were going to the kitchen. You just needed to move the rest of your body to distract you from your hanging hand.

As you blinked the sleep out of your eyes, you realized that, instead of the kitchen, your body had begun to take you down further. 

“What the fuck am I doing?” you questioned, but still walked down, down, down.

Maybe your body was telling you that some training would do you good. Maybe your hand was just stiff and sore, and needed renewed blood flow. You had been skipping out on your morning routine due to your guard duty. Maybe your body was itching for it back.

You yawned, whispering, “Whatever.”

You began rolling your shoulders as your feet hit the ground, warming up your back and neck. You rubbed your eyes one last time with your left hand, allowing your still aching right one to remain hanging at your side, while simultaneously becoming overwhelmed with the scent of sweat, rubber, and blood. For a second, you smiled, content with the feeling of walking into a space you knew so well - that knew you so well. You were excited, your adrenal gland suddenly pumping you with adrenaline and dopamine.

You were home.

That euphoric pairing was suddenly doused with cortisol as you turned towards the punching bags, only to be met with nearly a dozen lying flat, and a mass of dark wings kneeling on the hard ground.

A mass of dark wings that you could recognize with only the sound of them.

“Azriel,” you whispered, watching as he breathed heavily, clutching his bleeding hand. He was surrounded by small sprays of crimson blood and clear sweat, painting the floor a muted color. His expression was...pained, haunted.

It was his right hand he was clutching.

“Azriel,” you said again, a bit louder that time, and picked up your stride. He hinted at no recognition.

Your own pained hand was long forgotten.

You reached him quickly, kneeling down beside him and touching his shoulders gently. You turned him to look at you, tempted to finally understand the exact feeling of his face slightly stubbled, but his head remained low.

“Azriel, what the fu -” you began, but were unable to form another syllable when his golden eyes connected with yours.

He looked up at you like a boy, a little boy, who had been pushed too far. And yet, at the same time, the Azriel who quickened your heart with only a glance was still there, giving his face and body the look of what you could only describe as a young, bleeding god. Covered in sweat and tears and blood, his hair soaked with the same alloy, he was a fallen angel, begging for mercy.

His eyes said to you make it stop. Please, make it end.

“Az,” you whispered, and he fell into your arms.

Your brain instantly tore you in half. You had never felt so overjoyed and crestfallen in the same moment.

His face was pressed against your collarbone as he began to weep, and his arms wrapped around your waist. He was timid at first, waiting for you to push him away, but you didn’t. Your body molded him to you, pressing him against you and holding him like glass. He was shaking, sweating, and bleeding all over you, enough that blood dripping from his mouth had begun to soak through your shirt. You closed your eyes and held him impossibly closer, and brought your still throbbing hand up to the back of his neck.

Every part of his body that you could feel was warm - too warm.

“Azriel,” you whispered, your voice suddenly cracking at the effort to speak, “what happened?”

He said nothing.

“Why are you down here, Azriel?” you asked, beginning to rub your fingers along the top of his spine. “Tell me why.”

He inhaled shakily, his hot breath mixing with the heat of his blood still staining you, and tried to speak. Nothing escaped besides another quiet sob.

This Spymaster, Illyrian warrior, the strongest there had ever been, was shattering in your arms.

“Please just tell me,” you whispered again. It was your own way of begging him to get up again, be the male who never cracked, never crumbled. He was a rock - he was always a rock - and seeing him like this was scaring the living shit out of you.

He had to have caught on, because after a few shaky breaths, he whispered quietly enough for only you to hear. “Because I can still smell him on you.”

Your eyes widened, and a copper taste coated your tongue.

“You...” you whimpered, “you smell him?”

Suddenly Azriel pushed himself off you and looked at you with something other than pain and hurt.

It was...you didn’t know what it was.

“Yes,” he replied, his bloodied, broken hand trembling, “that’s all I can fucking smell and see. I can’t stop it. No matter what I do, I can’t stop it.”

You recalled Rhysand’s words from the past, about Feyre.

When I would feel her on Tamlin, he said, it was all I could see. I couldn’t stop it.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Azriel continued, “my chest...it hurts.”

It was all in my chest, Rhysand had said, the pain was, at least, The rest was somewhere deeper, like it was engrained in me. The wrongness of it was inside of me.

“It’s inside of me, Y/N.” Azriel’s mouth was dripping blood now, adding to the mural he had painted on the floor, “I don’t...your hand?”

You looked down at your limp one, and back up at him.

“You...you felt it?” he asked, referring to the shattering of his own bones.

You nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks, but from something other than pain. Your voice was breathy and perfumed with triumph as you traced the pattern in both Az and Rhys’s words. “Yes.”

Azriel’s defeated eyes suddenly lit with curiosity. “How...how is that possi -” 

“The pain’s right here, isn’t it?” you interrupted him, putting your left hand on the area right beneath your breasts. “Right here?”

You moved your hand to the same area on his chest, and he nodded. 

“It burns, doesn’t it?”

“Everywhere,” he agreed.

You nodded. “It’s deep, like in your bones it feels -”

“- wrong.” He completed your sentence for you.

You smiled, big enough to wrinkle your irises, and kissed him.

He was bloody and hot, but you kissed him anyway, hard enough for drops of it to begin to drip down your lips as well.

You pulled away and took his injured hand in yours. “Why do you think I was with Ozia in the first place?”

Azriel’s voice was quiet and unsure. “I... I don’t know.”

“Because he was as close to you as I could get,” you said with a chuckle. “I thought, after a century, there was no hope. That the Cauldron destined you for someone else. I figured, if I couldn’t have you, I would drown the grief in someone who I could pretend was you.”

His eyes widened, and he licked his bloodied lips before asking, “Did it work?”

You chuckled back and kissed his cheek. “Not even close.”

With your lips still buzzing, he pulled you in for another kiss, and finally - finally - the cracks in your chest bloomed into a bond. It was soothing, spreading itself over all the wounds that remained open from a century of festering, and replaced them with a garden of roses. The feeling stretched itself around your body, wrapping you in a cocoon of solace. You had been carrying the ache of an untethered line in your body, and it had finally found its dock.

He kissed you softly, holding back enough to prove to you of his uncertainty, before you pulled away and mumbled, “I feel it too.”

He swallowed and smiled, enough to crinkle the skin around his eyes and accentuate his dimples. With his blood still dripping from both of your mouths, he said with full confidence, “You’re my mate.”

You wiped the blood from his chin and brushed back the strands of hair sticking to his forehead as you replied, “And you are mine.”

With eyes only filled with love, Azriel said, “So that’s why I wanted to tear his jaw off.”

You smiled and pressed your foreheads together, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone. Your shattered hands were placed on top of each other on the ground.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you said to him. “I thought the pain I felt was merely jealousy, and I was with Ozia to escape from it. If I knew you were experiencing it too, or if I was honest from the beginning, you never would have gotten hurt.”

You leaned back to look him in the eye as you said, “I am sorry I hurt you. I am sorry I left you to do the route alone. I am sorry for all of it.”

He only smiled. “I had every opportunity to be honest too, and I didn’t take it. This isn’t your fault.’

You nodded, but he kissed you again. “This isn’t your fault.”

 You kissed him back, showing him you believed him through your tongue and teeth.

You had dreamed of this moment, internalized every spat of poetry Rhysand and Cassian had iterated about the feeling of it, but nothing could have prepared you to know the feeling of being honestly, rawfully, and purely loved.

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[acourtofbooksandshadows]

Not So Routine - Chapter 5

Summary: Seeing your mates at dinner goes a bit unexpected.

Pairings: Eventual!Nessian x Afab!Reader Mor x Afab!Reader

Warnings: Cussing, death, wing amputation, affairs, childbirth, alcohol and anxiety.

Word count:1410

Bookshelf Series Bookshelf

You were more than happy to see that everyone was in fact dressed as you were. The High Lord and High Lady who greeted you at the door were both dressed impeccably. He wore a black suit that oozed authority and she wore a matching black dress that made her look just as powerful. 

The spymaster was walking down the stairs in fitted black pants and a fitted black button down. His wings flared out behind him. Amren was wearing a floor length black dress, with spaghetti straps that was slightly loose on her figure. But the jewelry she wore made up for the simplicity of the dress. Then there was Elain who came gliding in from the gardens in a beautiful floral dress. On her hip was baby Nyx who reached for his mother instantly upon laying eyes on her. 

They all greeted you with kindness and that eased you instantly. Rhysand and Feyre insisted you use their names rather than their titles. Yet you still caught yourself slipping up as you thanked them again and again for welcoming you into their home. Mor could tell you were getting antsy as you waited to see your mates. 

“When will Nesta and Cassian be here? I am just famished.” She asked the question casually as you all walked to the large dining room. She made sure that you were seated before taking a seat beside you.

“Should be any moment.” Feyre reassured her and you felt a sense of calm overtake you at the prospect of laying eyes on the male and female once again. But nothing could prepare you when they walked through the doorway into the dining room. 

They both looked utterly and completely divine. Cassian had on the same tight fitting black pants that Azriel had on. But his shirt was a dark red almost like blood. He had the sleeves rolled up a bit showcasing the beginning of his tattoos. His hair was put up in a half up bun much like the first time you had seen him. You couldn’t help but wonder what his hair would feel like dancing across your skin as he trailed open mouthed kiss after open mouthed kiss along your skin. 

Then you took in Nesta, she had on a skin tight black dress. The sleeves were long but the neckline was plunging much like your own. The back of the dress was a lace material that showed off her soft looking skin deliciously. She had one slit that ran along her right leg and you were desperate to feel her leg over your shoulder as you ravished her. Her jewelry matched the color of Cassian's shirt perfectly. Her hair was pinned up delicately in braids that were placed to look as a crown. 

You realized then that Mor had somehow color coordinated your own outfit with theirs. Your jaw dropped as you turned to look at her. A small mischievous smile danced upon her lips and her eyes were nothing but playful. You knew she had planned the subtle reds you wore for a reason but you never thought it would be to match your mates who now sat across from you. 

“I can’t quite place it but you look so familiar.” Rhysands voice brought you out of your momentary daze. You moved down in your seat ever so slowly. Willing the scars on your back to disappear as you took in a shaking breath. 

“I think that would be because you know my father and you knew my mother.” Everyone at the table except for Mor and Amren seemed to lean in as you spoke. The sight only made you even more nervous as you began to bite on your bottom lip aggressively. 

“Who is your father?” It was Cassian that spoke. The sound of his voice had you calming down ever so slightly. Nuala and Cerriwden started to place plates of food in front of all of you. 

“Lord Devlon of Windhaven.” You pushed a piece of food around your plate with your fork as you muttered the sentence. If they didn’t have fae hearing you would’ve been worried they didn’t hear you.

“I’m sorry, did you just say Lord Devlon of Windhaven?” You nodded slowly at Rhysands question as you continued to look at your plate. You refused to meet their eyes, not wanting to see what emotions laid within them. 

“Lord Devlon doesn’t have a daughter though.” Cassian was quick to say and his sentence was full of accusations. Your soul ached at the feeling of judgment from your mate. 

“Cassian.” his name was said in a warning and you were grateful for Nesta cutting in because you were starting to feel a little nauseous. 

“I was born the night of a blood rite when you were younger. He used the chaos of the event to lock me away with his wife.” Mor laid a soothing hand on your shoulder, she had held you as you had cried to her about the horrible childhood you’d had many nights. She had soothed you after you awoke from nightmares on many occasions as well. Just as you did for her. 

“Is his wife not your mother?” You knew the question was bound to come but that didn’t mean you wanted to answer it. But because it was Feyre that asked you decided you would answer. 

“No. Rhysands mothers best friend who was also her handmaid was my mother.” That seemed to utterly shock him as well as the others around the table.

“Lord Devlon had an affair?” You let out a loud snort at that question, finally looking up from your plate. Everyone eyed you curiously at your reaction to the question. 

“Unless he’s dead then he still is.” The thought of your fathers demise crossed your mind briefly but still caused a smile to grace your lips. 

“I remember her being pregnant but one day she just kind of disappeared. Your mother died during childbirth didn’t she?” That question had the smile wiped off your face instantly. You never knew much of your mother growing up and it was something you would never forgive your father for. But he never let you forget what you had done to her. 

“Her fae body couldn’t handle the wings.” It was as simple as that. But that sentence had caused everyone around the table to falter. You glanced at Nyx with his beautiful wings before glancing at Feyre and giving her a gentle smile which she returned. 

“But you don’t have wings.” It was Elain that piped up. It was actually the first thing she had said all night. You scooted back up in your seat as you looked down at your hands that were now clasped together in your lap.

“On my first bleeding my father had me sent to Ironcrest where they cut them from my back. Not that it mattered all that much. I hadn’t been allowed to leave the house anyways.” Your back was straight and your voice was cold as you responded. You didn’t bother to look around the table. But you took great comfort in the way Mor’s thumb drew soft circles into the skin of your shoulder. 

“Your mother had caught wind of what was happening. She flew to the camp and saved me from the infection that had quickly overtaken my body by bringing me here.” The scars on your back ached as you retold the awful memory. You had tears tracking down your face as you looked back up at Rhysand. He had a look of calm fury on his own face. The feeling of complete and utter rage soared down the bond and had a small sob leaving your mouth. Your eyes tore from the High Lords to your mates and you were met with equal looks of fury. 

“I’ll have it taken care of.” And before you could reassure Rhysand that he didn’t need to fret over it the Illyrian spymaster was disappearing within his shadows. Your eyes met Mor’s and she gave you a reassuring nod. 

“Anyone up for more wine?” A relieved sigh left your lips as you mouthed a thank you her way. You were happy that your past didn’t seem to deter them away from you. You wiped your tears away and glanced back at your mates once more. A serene sense of calm took over you at the fact they were so close.

A/N: Anybody else surprised by that plot twist? As always likes, comments, follows and reblogs are much appreciated. Thank you all so much for reading.

Tags(open): @kmc1989 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @luvmoo @wolfsbane44 @acourtofinkandpapyrus @moonlwghts @maddietheshoe @hyemishii @fanboyluvr @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @pinksmellslikelove @waytoomanyteenagefeels @littlebbb @cat-or-kitten

[acourtofbooksandshadows]

Not So Routine- Chapter 8

Summary: Unexpected visitors cause your night to go astray. Luckily Mor is there to help anchor you.

Pairings: Eventual!Nessian x Afab!Reader Current!Mor x Afab!Reader

Warnings: Angst, men being disgusting foul little things, blood, weapons, swearing, wounds, passing out, vomit, bones breaking, child abuse from parent and death. Just please tread lightly if you are squeamish or uncomfortable with any of the above topics.

Word count: 3233

Bookshelf Series Bookshelf

It seemed that all the eventful experiences of the day were not in fact over. Because when you got home that night you paused dead in your tracks and stared widely at the forms waiting for you. Out of everyone you’d expected to be at your door it definitely wasn’t Azriel and Rhysand. You stared at them in shock and Rhysand tried to give you his best calming smile while Azriel didn’t even try to look less intimidating. 

“Oh, hello, I wasn’t expecting company today.” They were blocking your door and didn’t seem like they were going to move until your keys rattled. Rhysand stepped aside and Azriel tucked his wings in as you approached, you made quick work of the door before ushering them inside. You groaned as you realized you hadn’t cleaned up your apartment in a couple days. You hadn’t thought you’d need to since Mor was the only one that ever came over and she didn’t mind a bit of clutter. 

“I’m sorry for the mess. I wasn’t-” Your words were cut off by Rhysand. 

“Expecting company.” Nerves were working through you at a fast pace. You had a feeling that this wasn’t a friendly visit. Especially with the way Azriel seemed a little on edge. 

“Is this about Devlon?” You chewed on your lower lip so hard you started to taste blood before releasing it. 

“I’ve been gathering information on him and the males in ironcrest. I’m just wanting to iron out a few details with you.” Azriel’s voice surprised you as you realized this was the first time you’ve heard it. 

“Would either of you like tea or anything?” You stood awkwardly in the doorway to your kitchen that was just next to your front door. They both shook their head and you lead them towards your dining room table. You were thankful for the bench that lined one side of the table as Azriel was able to comfortably sit without his wings being in the way. 

“What would you like to know?” Azriel shot off a list of names in reply and had you confirm or deny their involvement. But you hadn’t known any of their names so that didn’t help at all. 

“We could try something different instead. If you’re comfortable with it of course.” You eyed Rhysand curiously already suspecting you wouldn’t like the words about to leave his mouth. 

“I could look at the memory and we could narrow down who they are that way.” A large wave of nausea took over you at the thought of reliving the experience that had scarred you not only physically but mentally and emotionally as well. 

“Does it have to be tonight?” You hadn’t realized you were picking at your nails until you pulled on a especially tender spot and you dropped your hands into your lap. 

“The sooner the better. I’m afraid that if they get wind of me digging around they might flee or try to hide any evidence of their activities.” Azriel’s voice shook you once again. Though from the stories you’ve heard of him you doubted anyone would figure out what he was up to. Unless of course he wanted them too. Rhysand seemed to take pity in the way you shook as he placed a calming hand on your arm from his spot next to you.

“Would you like me to request Mor join us?” You nodded your head quickly at his question, you knew her presence would help you undoubtedly. His eyes glazed over for a moment and after waiting with baited breath he came back. He didn’t even have to tell you what she said as she appeared in the space behind Rhysand. 

“I’m scared.” You whispered to her as she pulled a chair next to yours. She grabbed your hand that was closest to her and intertwined her fingers with yours. 

“I know but I’ll be here the whole time. Then we can go to bed afterwards.” She dragged the smooth skin of her thumb along the smooth skin of the back of your hand soothingly. You nodded your head at her before turning back to Rhysand, who was eyeing you and his cousin curiously. 

“I’m ready.” Somehow your voice came out steady and your hands didn’t shake. But nausea was something you couldn’t push away. This would be the first and the only time you showed it to someone else. 

“Would it be alright for me to share the memory with Azriel and Mor as you share it with me?” You nodded your head at him and began chewing on your lip again. Your eyes fluttered closed and then squeezed tight. Rhysand began to claw at your mind and you let out him enter as a shaky breath left your mouth. Once he found the memory you were whisked into it. 

When you had awoken that morning you groaned in pain. Your stomach and back felt like it was on fire and being stabbed all at once. You sat up with a wince and that’s when you noticed the wet feeling between your legs. You lifted the blanket up and stared at the blood that pooled between your legs. Panic set through you like water breaking through a damn. 

You weren’t exactly sure what was happening to you. But you knew that if your father found out that he’d find some way to punish you. So you got out of your bed and stood on shaky legs. There were chores that you needed to complete before Devlon came home. Even though you felt an ache and a sweat all over your body you couldn’t leave the chores unfinished. 

Your legs barely held you up as you exited your cramped room and made your way to the bathroom. You bunched up a small towel in your underwear to hopefully hold the blood that still steadily poured out of you. The rough feeling of the walls dug into your hand as you caught yourself from falling down the stairs when a particularly sharp jab spiked in your side. Your wings unused twitched open and closed behind you. After two large glasses of water to hold down the nausea and a mug of tea, with a bowl of oatmeal you finally started on your chores. 

Even though your father had a wife she did nothing to help you. Instead she would sit around most of the day and complain. She would complain about anything she could think of. Most of the time though it was you she’d complain about. Then there were some days where she would stay in her room and wouldn’t leave until your father came home. That left all the chores for you. It had become a routine at this point though. Wake up, eat breakfast, make your fathers bed, do the dishes, do the laundry, dust, sweep, mop, take care of the trash and then have dinner on the table by the time he comes home. 

You had just got done making dinner when your father came into the small house. The cramps had lessened as you worked around the house so you were going to bathe and wash the towels you had gone through while he ate dinner. But he called out to you when your foot met the second step of the stairs. You turned around nervously and you saw him take a deep breath. Then there was nothing but fury within his eyes. 

“Your first bleeding. Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Your whole body went on high alert as you looked at him. He was all but shaking with rage. The words wouldn’t leave your throat as fear settled within every nook of your body. 

“Answer me now.” He was baring his teeth at you, wings spreading out and chest puffing up. You shrank into yourself slowly under his gaze.

“It happened this morning, I didn’t know what was wrong. I am sorry.” You took the one step down and knelt before him. Wings sagging behind you and eyes gazing at the floor. You weren’t lying when you told him you had no idea what was happening. You had never been told of a first bleeding before. 

“You’re absolutely useless to me now. Go up to your room until I get you.” You hadn’t been prepared to be sent to your room. You’d normally receive your punishment immediately. It was typically a whipping with his belt or a couple of well placed kicks and punches to your body. 

You felt your breakfast from the morning coming up your throat as you stood and stalked up the stairs. Once you sat on your bed you stared at your wall for what felt like days but was really only a couple of hours. 

The trance you were in was broken as you heard your name being called through the house. You made quick work of going down the stairs and you went to kneel before your father again but he stopped you. The bile that you had finally choked down earlier threatened to come back up as he glared at you. He started walking towards the door and you stood in your place.

“Let’s go.” You hesitated at his words because you had never been allowed outside. From the day you were born all you had was the walls and rooms of your house. 

“I said let’s fucking go.” He stalked over to you and grabbed your hair roughly dragging you behind him. Your wings scraped against the floor as your legs stumbled beneath you to keep up right. The sharp chill of the breeze outside pierced the thin dress you wore and you hissed. You brought your hands up to your arms trying to rub heat into them. The snow seeped into the thin flats on your feet and chilled your toes instantly. 

You looked around and took in the sights of the camp you had only ever gazed upon from the windows in your house. No one was outside and that had you on edge even more than you already were. There was normally a slew of males drinking and rough housing at all hours. But right now it seemed everyone was inside. The wings on your back were twitching in agony at the sharp pricks of cold snapping at them. 

There was no sound to be heard other than your laboring breath and the curses from the male dragging you. The reality of the situation you were in finally set in as he dragged you closer to the trees. He pulled you through the foliage not doing anything to protect you against the lashing of the branches and leaves on your skin. You screamed as you hit a root in the ground and twisted your ankle, a loud crack ringing out through the silent night.

When you entered a clearing you noticed three males standing there. They all had wings but you didn’t recognize them as any of the males you had seen from the windows of your house. They didn’t even flinch at the way you were thrown to the ground before them. Your father spat at you as you cradled the wrist that had tried to catch you from your fall. 

“Do whatever you want to her. I don’t ever want to see her again.” His voice was pure venom as he directed the statement at the males. Before he promptly turned around and left the clearing.

Your eyes were wide and you pleaded with the males in front of you but they only laughed before one of them went to snatch you up. But you backed away from them as best you could with your injured leg and arm. That earned you a punch that went straight to your nose and cracked the bone efficiently. Blood sprayed out across your face and the ground and your head spun at the pain. 

You didn’t see the other one come up behind you. An arm wrapped around your neck and you clawed at the material of the shirt while you fought for your oxygen. He only squeezed harder even as your nails finally shredded his shirt and made contact with his skin. He brought you up and the tips of your now bare feet grazed the snow covered ground. Your vision blurred and you tried to let out a final plea but you couldn’t get a word out. The ache in your chest ebbed into a buzz throughout your body as your lungs continued to struggle. The last thing you heard before you passed out was the one that hadn’t approached you yet saying how much fun he was going to have with you. 

When you woke up, you gagged at the taste of blood in your mouth. You tried to open your eyes but they didn’t want to cooperate. It took you several more tries before they finally cracked open. You realized through the slits in your eyes that they were swollen. The dark room around you didn’t give you any clues as to where you were. But the laughing beyond the door gave you an idea. 

A loud scream ripped through your throat as you tried to stand. You looked down at your ankles and realized they were both shackled and the right one was swollen, bruised and had an odd angle to it. You tried to bring a hand down to your swollen ankle but noticed that they were also shackled and that your left wrist was in just about as poor condition as your ankle was. Your scream seemed to have garnered the attention of the Illyrians because the door was slamming open and light was flooding in. 

“Oh good, the bitch is awake.” You didn’t know where the voice was coming from as you squeezed your eyes shut. The light entering the room caused a sharp pain to throb through your head. 

“Now for that fun I talked about earlier.” You assumed he had a set of keys in his hand as you heard the sound of metal clanging together. Your suspicions were confirmed as you felt the shackles being unlocked from the floor. Two of them grabbed you under your armpits and started to drag you out to where they came from. You cracked your eyes open despite the light and tried to ignore the way the shackles pulled on your mangled wrist and ankle. 

The large table in the center of the room and the weapons lining the walls had you getting sick. The vomit mixed with the blood in your mouth and on your face and clothes as it came out of you. You heard one of the males next to you curse before a sharp pain radiated through your side. You glanced down and noticed there was a knife sticking out of your side. 

“Let’s get this done with. She’s fucking disgusting.” You figured you were even though you couldn’t see yourself. You knew there was blood and now vomit covering your face and clothes. You could feel blood pooling between your legs and down them. Your skin had tiny cuts and dirt and what not from being dragged through the forest and you were bruised in various places. 

“Get her on the table.” You tried once again to pull away from them but they only gripped you harder and the male that stabbed you twisted the knife. They picked you up and laid you face down on the table. Your nose smacked against the rough surface and you were sure they had broken it again. 

“What are you going to do?” Your question fell on deaf ears as they locked you down by your shackles and moved around the room. They all seemed perfectly in sync as they skirted around each other and handed each other different objects.

“Hold the half breed down. I’m gonna get started on the first one.” Your wings twitched at the words. Like they knew what was happening before you did. Pain shot through you with a vengeance as the first deep cut was made to your wing. You tried to push away the pain and fight but with the second deep cut you were succumbing to the black spots in your already hazy vision. 

The next time you opened your eyes you were numb. Every last part of you no longer feeling. You couldn’t feel the nasty cuts in your back were now laying bare on the dirty ground below you from where your wings were cut off. You couldn’t feel the snow seeping into your skin, the broken bones from earlier weren’t even a thought either as you stared up at the sun above you. A slow and cynical laugh left your lips as you realized this was the first time you had ever felt the sun on your skin. Because you couldn’t even feel the heat from it. 

A sound rang out somewhere near you but you couldn’t make it out as your ears rang. You hadn’t even noticed the blood that now poured down the sides of your neck and mixed in with your hair. Your eyes were still slits from the swelling when someone came and blocked the sun from your view. You blinked once and then twice, slowly as you tried to make out who was there. 

You watched their mouth move but couldn’t make out what they were saying. They came toward you and you couldn’t find it within you to fight them. Even when their wings finally came into view from where they stood tall and proud behind them. They knelt down beside you and hauled you into their arms. You didn’t feel any pain as they jostled you to adjust you better trying to avoid hitting the knife still lodged in your side. 

As you finally took in their face you realized it was a gorgeous female. You had never seen anyone as pretty as her, you decided. A small smile grazed your lips and you hoped this angel of death understood you were grateful for them before your eyes fluttered closed and you slipped into the darkness that had been fighting to consume you. 

A sob left your lips as you came back to your kitchen table. The males around the table looked at you in surprise and you shrunk into yourself but Mor was quick in standing up and gathering you into her arms, your legs wrapping around her middle. She smoothed a hand over your hair and laid a kiss on your forehead before whispering to her cousin and Azriel. You couldn’t understand what she was saying as your head was buried into her neck. 

She carried you to your room and laid you on your bed. You didn’t hear a door close but you felt a ripple of power through your apartment and figured that Rhysand must’ve winnowed away as Azriel slipped through his shadows. Mor carefully got you out of your day clothes and slipped you into a pair of sleep pants and a sleep shirt. She laid beside you once she was in similar attire and let you curl into her. She ran a hand up and down your back until you fell asleep with tear tracks down your face. Before you slipped into slumber you had uttered a sentence that rattled her bones. 

“I want the killing blows.”

A/N: I hope everyone enjoyed getting insight into readers past. There will be more Nesta and Cassian in the next part. Thank you all for reading and as always likes, comments, reblogs and follows are much appreciated.

Tags(open): @kmc1989 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @luvmoo @wolfsbane44 @acourtofinkandpapyrus @moonlwghts @maddietheshoe @hyemishii @fanboyluvr @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @pinksmellslikelove @waytoomanyteenagefeels @littlebbb @cat-or-kitten @brandywineeeee