#escape from lucien | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

acotarxreader · 1 month ago

Text

Vicious little thing

Eris x Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lucien says he’s torturous”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lucien!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Eris, go be anywhere but here”

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

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

“I’ll help make something!” You rushed out, unsure of why you were eager to rescue Eris even if it gave away your eavesdropping.

“YN, know your place” Rhysand warned.

“I mean- c’mon S-sir you have to leave soon and let's be honest, there’ll be questions about why a lord of fire is-is emm burned…or why his face is in pieces for that matter” You watched Cassian release the wrinkled collar, exhaling deeply and jump from the dining table to the floor before striding over to you.

“At least stab him a few times with pins”

“Deal” you laughed before standing aside in the doorway for Cassian and Rhysand to pass.

After arriving at your workroom, a flush of self-conscious energy rushed you at the mess you had been living and working in, now under the scrutiny of the son of Autumn. Towers of discarded and active projects cast shadows along the stone of the space, his eyes inspecting the smaller details of the room as you pulled out fabric rolls from the wall. You couldn’t help but notice the warmth in the tall shadows not there previously, its addictive nature nipping at your skin.

“Jacket” You ordered, a hand out to take the sooty material, Eris obliging wholeheartedly, surprising even himself. He watched you inspect it closely, attempting to hide his wonder of you as you sighed. He thought how he would very much love to watch you work, how he may very well do anything you asked of him and how foreign that very feeling was. “Sloppy stitching, conjured I suppose not handmade?” He nodded in confirmation to your question, doing his best to hide his amazement at your assessment.

“I don’t think this is your colour-” “-Excuse you, this green is one of my court colours, how can it not be my colour?” Eris' anger startled you, snapping you out of your dressmaker autopilot, remembering your company. “Sorry-I emm- not your tone shall we say” Your panicked voice was only silenced by a laugh from Eris.

“Just kidding YN, I’m not offended” “Just a prick” You whispered to yourself as you slipped a pin cushion over your wrist, Eris smiling from behind you. You pointed at the step riser in the corner of the room for Eris to stand on as you gathered your treasure trove of supplies.

“Take off your trousers” You threaded the soft measuring tape through your fingers from behind him.

“Not going to buy me dinner first?” He raised his eyebrow to you with a grin you felt that maybe not everyone got to see, his hands undoing what was left of the waistband before he shook off the fragile fabric, leaving him in his undergarments. You took a deep quiet breath before sinking to crouch alongside him, measuring the length of his leg.

“On your knees so soon” You stood instantly again, pushing him playfully, stilling almost as soon as you had moved.

“Sorry I-” “-I won’t bite you YN, not unless you ask” he winked, causing you to bite the inside of your cheek begging your body not to grin back, instead just resuming your measurements. “I should have let Cassian kill you” You whispered by his calf as he looked down at you.

“There she is, there’s who’s fun to play with” You could hear his smile, just as you took a pin from the holder strapped to your wrist, poking him into his ankle. He hissed, rolling his ankle slightly away from you as you stood again.

“That was for the Nesta comments” You put the pin into the cuff of your sleeve, retrieving your scissors and cutting strips of a deep red fabric without the measure, all the knowledge within your head accompanied with years of skill.

“I was just bored and the big bat is an easy target. I have no intentions of pursuing Lady Death, don’t be jealous” He watched you in the mirror as if afraid to blink and you’d disappear. You forced your focus closer to your cutting, Eris slipping from the step to stalk closer to you.

“Why would I be jealous? I don't even know you” “Odd, I feel like I know you… but regardless, I’d imagine you’d be jealous if your relationship with my darling brother isn’t all you want it to be” You whipped around to him in shock, scissors still in hand. Eris put his hands up in faux surrender while glancing at the scissors, your eyes rolling again, placing the instrument behind you.

“What? Me and Lucien?” You laughed wholeheartedly, Eris tilting his head to the sound, stepping from the riser.

“No?” “Now who’s jealous?” he only scoffed at you in reply.

“Heirs do not get jealous, they get what they want” His somewhat serious tone sent a shiver down your spine, the distance seemingly shrinking between you.

“And what does this heir want?” “Hmm” he hummed leaning forward into the gap, that tempting heat pulling you towards him, every cell screaming for the temperature in your skin to increase, to meet with his, to reach inferno.

“YN, do you have a spare-what’s going on in here?” Lucien stood in the doorway, his suit jacket in his hand, a missing button by the collar.

“Ever the best for timing dear brother” Eris squared his stance, turning to face his kin as you wished the earth to swallow you whole.

“Let's not get into it in front of the Lady.-” Lucien rolled his shoulders back, unshaken by the sharp tone of his brother “-Thimble, please could you reattach this button? It was the one I used magic to affix and you were right, it didn’t hold” You gave a soft smile, taking it from his hands, reluctantly crossing the path between the two.

“Come, dear brother, leave my lovely YN to work” Lucien stood back in the doorway to leave space for Eris to pass. A rush of intense heat radiated from Eris at his brother's endearment towards you, his knuckles cracking as fists formed.

“Won’t you need me for the rest of the fitting?” He looked at you, eyes asking you to beg him to stay.

“I-” “-YN is used to finishing projects down here without the muse, she works better alone right YN?” You nodded slightly at Lucien, his voice no longer toeing the line between friend and employer, the latter taking full effect. You sank back to your work table, tacking together the fabric as Lucien guided Eris away from you, Eris slipped back on the remnants of his trousers before reluctantly leaving. The cold rushed to your bones again as the faint sound of their bickering filled the halls.

—-------------------------------

Two weeks later

Thoughts of Eris crossed your mind while looking down on the vast woodland of coppers and bronze through a window taller than him. The flickers of rust and chestnut hues pulled you towards them like a moth to flame. You had never been in an environment like it, so famously cold but surprisingly warming to your inner world. Beron had insisted on holding a dinner with Night Court in his home, still believing his trip to Briallyn’s continent was undiscovered.

“Okay, we go, we hear what nonsense he’s peddling and we compare notes when we get home?” The Inner circle nodded in agreement to their High Lord as he knotted his cufflink into place before outstretching the same hand for you to adjust. Just as quick Nesta called for your attention as Azriel covered a more specific game plan. Nesta had insisted you accompany her, and help to ready her for the meeting, no matter how many times you reminded her that that was very much so not part of your job.

“It's fine YN stop fidgeting!” She snapped at you, tugging the end of her dress from your grip before she leapt from the riser to take Cassian’s arm as they moved to leave for dinner. You knew she didn’t mean to take you so sharply, she was just stressed, they were all stressed. They were always stressed, they never meant to snap at you, or at least that's what you convinced yourself of.

“We should have left you home where you would be safe” Lucien said softly, pulling you from the step riser again, his thumb sweeping over the back of your hand. You couldn’t help but notice how different his touch was from Eris, and how you wished it was him with you now not Lucien.

“Stay here YN, I hate it here as much as you, I’ll be as quick as I can back to you” He gave another smile before following the Inner Circle, closing the heavy door behind him. Did you hate it here, you wondered as you wandered around the room at the edge of Forest House, secluded away as you always were in these venues.

You couldn’t help but listen to a vibrant voice in the back of your mind, beckoning you to come out and play.

The distant echos of grandeur filled the halls from the dining room at the opposite end of the hall as you crept down the stoneway in the opposite direction. Before realising it, you step to a servant entrance of the grand house, whispers of Autumn guiding you through a place so new yet familiar. Your fingertips hardly made contact with the bronze of the handle before a large weight was thrown deep into your side. Overwhelming, almost suffocating heat swallowed the screams you shrieked, accompanied by a heavy hand as all pulled you from the hallway to an adjacent hallway pantry.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Eris released his hold on you, a flicker of flame leaking from his hand illuminating the closet. You doubled over, arms swaddling your stomach as you caught the breath shocked out of you. Eris's characteristic ironing-board-like posture softened at the sight.

“I-I didn’t mean to frighten you”

“What-what the-” Eris’s hand reached for your arm, worry radiating before you cut off the action “-what the fuck is wrong with you?! You don’t just grab someone like that!” You righted yourself again, hands finding your hips as the oxygen found your lungs again.

“Oh, you’re okay, I thought you lost your damn fucking mind coming here!” unfamiliar sharpness crossed his tongue as you scoffed at his heated whisper.

“I’m here working” “Working? Those morons have no idea what bringing you here could cause!” His hands ran through his hair in frustration, the light flickering with the movement.

“I won’t cause anything!-” You watched him drag his hands from his hair down his face in pure exasperation “-except it seems a headache for you” You grinned and as much as he fought it, he mirrored you.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the dinner?” “And aren’t you supposed to be in your cave of endless fabric?” You rolled your eyes at his rebuttal, moving to pass him only to have a soft touch take hold of your arm. The thud of a palm-sized book tumbling out of his pocket had both your gazes dropping. Surprisingly, you were first to retrieve the ornate book, its cover decorated with expansive drawings of the wood surrounding the Forest House.

“Your diary?” You grinned, offering it back to him.

“It’s actually…it’s actually nothing” You pulled it back into you at his ever so slightly panicked tone.

“So it is your diary?” You laughed gently, a slight rush of red growing across the Prince of Autumn's cheeks.

“Its-its a collection of..of poetry I’m working on” He admitted, fighting his way through growing embarrassment as his eyes fixated on the leather in your hand. You smiled down again at the cover, at the idea of a softer Eris locked behind these pages, a glimpse into his world.

“We have to get you out of here” He said abruptly, as if eager to shift topics away from his hidden hobby. “Fine, I’ll ask Lucien to bring me back there” A pulse of heat radiated between you.

“I’ll bring you”

“Won’t that impact the whole double agent incognito thing” You smirked, trying your best to not look down towards his gentle hold on you.

“I’m sure if I murdered Lucien that would impact things more”

“Remember Eris, I told you that shade of green wasn’t your colour” Silence swaddled the forgotten closet.

“That’s the first time you’ve said my name” The sound of his moniker sent Eris’s grip tightening slightly on your arm. “I’m sorry, was it saviour you preferred?” You hardly whispered, the swift movement that followed had your back pressed into the adjacent wall, Eris’s hand resting above your head, trapping you in the addictive warmth.

“As long as I’m the one you call for, I don’t care what you call me” he allowed himself to confess.

“This feels like a mistake”

“So was trying to hurt you, I enjoyed every lick of flame that torched those males YN and if it had been any other male other than my brother to dance with you that night they would have met a similar fate” Eris’s smoky voice admitted quietly, amber eyes trapping you in their heat. A warm palm found its way to your waist, ushering you closer to the High Fae behind the walls of an enemy Court.

“So you were jealous?” “Shut up and let me kiss you” Every drop of your blood was heated with the perfect pressure that met your lips and your hand instinctively took a fistful of his shirt pulling him tighter into you. You felt his fingers knot deeply into your hair as his other hand tightened its grip, your mouths slotting over one another in perfect synchronicity.

“You’re so delicate YN, your Court’s best kept secret and this world's greatest beauty, I feel like a moth to your flame-” Eris’s voice came out husky, starved for your touch “-I couldn’t explain it to myself why I felt like walking around that cursed city that day, the Mother must have known I’d meet you, that I would be drawn to you, that I burn for you” his thumb brushed over your cheek as you rested your head in the palm of his hand. A rush of cold met your skin as Eris fully pulled from you, your balance rocking slightly.

“Did-did I do something?” Eris sighed at your words, a hand tracing through his hair before he turned to face you, eyes ablaze.

“I-I really feel like you may be worth every risk in this entire world but I am not and I will not risk your safety for my own desire”

“I can protect myself Eris” “Not from what would seek you out because of me” The both of you stayed in studied silence for a moment, just observing one another and the energy shift between you both.

“My court will protect me” a low sound growled from Eris's throat in response to you.

“You mean my brother will protect you? The others care not for anyone but those in their precious inner sanctum”

“That’s not true, I’m their friend!” You snapped back, your voice rising above a crackled whisper in anger. The words pinged an idea directly into Eris’s head, his way to push you away. “You’re their employee! They take you for granted! You can’t honestly say they treat you well can you? Do you think they’d keep you around if you lost your use to them? Their loyalty is conditional, they can’t be relied on!” A truth you frequently ignored washed over you, too much to take.

“You’ve been away from the table too long General, I must return to work” You offered the almost forgotten book in your hands back to him, his eyes only moving from the binding to your eyes. You scoffed again before moving as quickly as he had brought you to this secluded closet, rushing your away from the heat you wanted to be swaddled in forever. You tucked the tiny book into your sock beneath your dress, perhaps that was his goodbye gift to you you thought. Your path was then interrupted around the corner of the secret haven by the feeling of your body crashing into the solid pushback of metal, your hips meeting the plush carpet.

“What do we have here?” You looked up through your eyelashes at the striking male, his broad shoulders shrouded in thick copper metal, the Autumn court of arms across his breast.

You pushed up off the ground, doing your best to ignore your bruised tailbone. The broad, older male scanned you, his eyes snagging on your Court’s emblem stitched into your sleeve.

“And tell me, what would a member of the Night Court be doing out of the designated area?”

“I-I was looking for-for the bathroom” He towered over you, the smell of soot and tinder filling your airways, thick enough to choke on. He stretched out a gloved hand, lights flickering in his eyes like a sparking fire. Before you could take his hand, they curled around your wrist, hauling you forward.

“And yet, I don't believe you” razor words said with a razor grin nicked at your nerves beneath your uniform.

“Would-would I lie to you sir?” You sank into the lowest curtsey you could manage while still tethered to the burly male. You could feel your fingertips turn blue as the gloved hand took a tighter hold, your voice fighting not to croak as you spoke again.

“I-I must return to my High Lord”

“I don’t think so, this little exploration of yours must be reported” Alec snarled down at you, flicking his wrist sending yours back in a conflicting direction, a small yelp leaving your throat. “YN?” The two of you looked to find Lucien, stunned expression turning steely as he looked towards the hold a member of his former Court held on your wrist. He made short work of the distance between you, his warmed hand taking your opposite wrist.

“Unhand this Lady!” He barked.

“Lady? She is staff, staff that was where she shouldn’t have been!” Your head dipped at the ever-present reminder of your differences. Lucien scanned you briefly, a subtly deep intake of air had the scent of Autumn wind and campfire flooding his senses, his brother's scent on you.

“I perhaps agree with you for once-” Lucien whispered down to you, words tainted with disappointment “-but regardless, she will come with me and her High Lord will take care of matters” Alec's grip only tightened further as Lucien attempted to pull you to his side, another wince decorating your face.

“Not before my High Lord has a chance to examine what she may have learned”

“What was I going to learn in the bathroom, his Lordship's haircare routine?” Your words surprised you as much as anyone but not as much as the feeling of cracked leather meeting the side of your face, knocking you down to the plush carpet, out of Luciens hold. The side of your cheek felt as though it instantly began to swell, it matched your eyes as tears threatened to fall over the rim. You didn’t stay down for long, Alec hauling you back to your feet by your cracking wrist joint. You could feel the blood run from your lips, your skin fighting to stitch together and failing. Black blotted your vision competing for the greatest pain with your wrist.

“This female is to be brought before the Lord of Autumn. You have no authority here, run along to your master, she comes with me” That’s all you could hear before the black blots overtook the beautiful brass and copper of the Court of Autumn, no longer able to support your own weight.

—-----------

The low crackle of a cruel flame filled your ears as an unnatural chill stretched from the icy flame. Your eyes flickered like the fire across from your cell, doing your best to come around from the sadistic male’s brutality. The cracking of brickwork met your back as you leaned into it, uncurling your legs from the ball of protection you had attempted to make. The depth of Forest House, far far away from the kind forest spirit voices that beckoned you to play, now replaced with the pained groans of other enemies to Autumn.

“Wakey wakey” You rolled your head along the stone, supporting its weight as you looked to see the ever-feared Lord of Autumn standing on the other side of the brass caging. The metal shuddered as the guards opened them for their master. You lowered your head slightly, trying to win any favour with Beron, his low laugh your reward.

“Anything to say for yourself?” You looked back up, fear stealing your voice as he stepped in closer, your bones rattling lowly off the stone beneath you.

“No? Funny, you seem to have plenty of thoughts to write about” “Ex-excuse me, Lord?” You said quietly, your eyes then landing on the pocket-sized notebook in his cruel hands. You looked between it and its new holder, evident panic on your face, quickly exchanged for pure pain as the Lord of Autumn suddenly shot forward, pressing your body into the cold stone, his grip clutching your throat.

“Beautiful sonnets and poems and prose, all with the very strong theme of escaping my beautiful court, destroying my beautiful legacy, running off with a beautiful forbidden creature, an accomplice of yours?” His even tone of pure ice contradicted the flaming heat beating through his hands to your throat. He’d kill his heir for his words, destroy him, torture him, make him beg, the idea of any of those outcomes unthinkable to you.

“Do not, DO NOT try to deny it” He tried again, crushing some air from your windpipe free.

“Father!” Eris bellowed suddenly from behind, a small ease in pressure on your skin.

“Make yourself scarce Eris, I’m busy” His blackened eyes didn’t leave your bloodshot ones.

“What are her charges?” Eris tried his best to keep the desperate tone at bay, Beron only held out the tiny notebook to his side, his other hand still gripping you. You watched as Eris turned practically to match the colour of your own oxygen-starved skin.

“And she-she has admitted to that being hers?” “She was about to before your interruption!” He barked back at his eldest son, before allowing enough air into your lungs so you may speak. You looked over his shoulder to the Heir of Autumn, his eyes sunken in from worry or lack of sleep or both, you weren’t sure. You weren’t even sure how long you had been down there, how long before your Court would come for you if they even would come. These questions plagued you endlessly and now you were finally about to meet your end, your answer of who would come if you really needed help answered right in front of you in the russet eyes of a male you took stolen moments with. The male who believed himself not worthy of anything other than pain. You would not die with him believing this.

“It’s min-” Your rasped lie cut off a flush of heat pulsating around the entire cell, Beron’s gaze snapping back to his son, a full release of pressure met your throat, your body sank to the ground, muscles screaming out for the rush of returning oxygen. You propped yourself up on your well-worn hands, fighting away blurry vision. Eris stood, shoulders settled back, flames like globes in his hands.

“Alec, that’s Alec’s, there's more in his quarters. Go search them and you’ll see, no need to declare war with Night Court by slaughtering one of their courtiers” Pure confidence beamed from Eris, a grin then decorating his face as his father tilted his head in thought.

“Think about it Father, it has to be someone with more access than a dressmaker? Someone with the intelligence to weave plots into poems, do you really think that a female would be capable of such?” Your heavy breath remained down towards the brick floor you looked down to, its small stones breaking away and burying into your palms and knees. You knew he saw you as more than that, and you trusted that he saw you as more than your court saw you as. You trusted him you realised. You heard Beron hum in quiet contemplation before looking back towards you, your hair matted in knots, uniform in tatters, the perfect image of weakness he believed all females had. Beron gestured quickly with his chin, his armed guards launching into action to search the quarters, no doubt going to find carefully planted prose and poems, damming in their divinity.

“A dressmaker?” Beron questioned you once again, his head tilting as you nodded gently towards the stone, unable to lift your dizzying head.

“Useless skill” He spat down before sinking a heavy, steel-soled boot flush with your right hand. Blood rushed to your ears as the little oxygen in your lungs escaped as a deafening roar, drowning out the sound of your breaking bones. The ring of bruises gifted to you by Alec on your other wrist clutched your shattered hand into your chest.

“You may finish her off Eris, your reward for your observant nature, I must see to the search” He smirked at his son who fought to keep his mouth from hanging open and flame from fleeing his fists. Beron sank into the fire, leaving his heir and his prisoner. Eris crashed to your side, his warm hands supporting your shoulders as you cried out.

“I’m sorry YN, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry” He whispered into your hair, your sobs drowning in his chest. A swirl of comforting flame swaddled you both as Eris pulled you both through the heat to the outskirts of the wood surrounding Forest House.

The Forest air was as refreshing as any of the elements as you landed gently in the clearing, Eris’s arms supporting your weight as he clung you into him.

“They’ll be here soon my love” He gave a small saddened smile into the crown of your hair, causing you to pull back to look up at him.

“What?” You managed, the movement of even speaking amplifying the pain in your digits. Another whoosh of air filled the clearing, Lucien quick to your side accompanied by Azriel, colour draining from the Shadowsinger’s face at the overly familiar sight of your hands.

“Go with them YN, they’ll protect you” Eris attempted another smile as you looked from him to his brother, who tried and failed to hide his worry.

“I want- I want to stay with you Eris” “Look at what happens when you stay with me YN, nothing good ever comes from this place” “But you came from this place” You cried out, your legs trembling again, Eris’s arm slipped around your waist again, Lucien unfamiliar with this side of his brother.

“I told you I’m only going to bring you pain” “And I-I told you green wasn’t one of your colours, we can both be wrong sometimes” You laughed lightly through your tears, fighting your instincts to look down at your hands. Eris brushed a thumb over your cheek, keeping a stray tear from falling before pressing his lips to your forehead.

“I have to leave you YN, I have to make sure Alec learns his lesson, the same one I will teach my father one day and anyone who dares to harm you” He searched through your eyes before stepping back, allowing Lucien to wrap his arm around you to support your body, Azriel placing a small cloth over your hand to shield you from the full extent of the damage. Eris traced the rings of bruising on your uncovered wrist, further cementing his decision. Azriel’s eyes scanned, watching for signs you had all been discovered and finding the distant sounds of guards beginning to storm towards them.

“We have to go” Azriel ordered, Eris and Lucien both nodding.

“Eris, please, please come with us” You begged through sobs.

“One day YN, one day I’ll show you this Court when it’s something I’m proud of, I’ll show you all of who I am, when it’s something I’m proud of” He brought the back of your hand to his lips, only to have you suddenly pull it back before launching forward towards him. His lips on yours felt like a warm hearth, like home, his soothing heat warming the world you always thought was meant to be cold.

“I was jealous” He admitted with his signature smirk as he parted from you, his hand running down your tangled hair receiving a light laugh from you as Lucien reluctantly pulled you back.

“We have to go, they’re close” Azriel took your weight, hesitantly taking you some distance away from Eris, leaving Lucien and Eris with some space between them.

“I will look after your mate brother” Eris only nodded in return before stealing another glance at you and sinking into flame.

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

Whatcha think? Hehehehe

503 notes · View notes

acoazlove · 1 month ago

Text

A New Place | part three

Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Summary: The Inner Circles dinner turned out far different than anyone could have anticipated.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Angst

─────────────────────────

The Tavern is in chaos. All of your coworkers, spring from one side of the building to the next. Cleaning things that you didn’t even think needed cleaning. Moving chairs and tables this way and that.

Yet you don’t have a clue what it’s all for. Well, it’s because ‘someone important’ is coming in, as Benny had said two days ago. You just didn’t know who, you were being kept out of the loop, as per usual. Shoulders slump at that realisation. Sliding into one of the stools at the bar, chin resting on your hand, silently watching them fuss and argue about minuscule things.

Odessa’s black hair swished as she barked orders at Oberon and Tarian. The two of them grumble but follow her lead nonetheless. The absolute worst part was the fact that Dominic’s hulking form was nowhere to be seen. He never misses a shift and does not show up late. Made even worse because it’s already dark out. Shifting your gaze to the clock, and see it’s already 8:00. His and Benny’s absence was starting to stress you out.

A damp cloth gets thrown onto the counter in front of you, startling you from your thoughts. Swiping a hand down your face to remove any droplets that splashed onto you. You scowl up at the culprit, finding Adem grimacing. “Sorry.” Quiet and breathy as if he was trying to hold in a laugh. “No, you’re not.” Turning your head back to the scene behind you, a snort escapes him at your words. Choosing to ignore that, “Do you know what’s going on?”

Gaze meets his once again, finding him avoiding eye contact. “…No.” Too long a pause for you not to notice. Eyes narrowing in suspicion, “Yes you do.” an accusatory finger points in his face, which he slaps away. Face scrunching at the accusation, “Firstly get that out of my face. Secondly, fine, I do. But I can’t tell you.” he replies with an exasperated huff.

Brows furrow once again, “Why not?” Adem goes to reply but gets interrupted by two large hands clapping down on his shoulders, a wince leaving him. Dominic's scowling face appears over his shoulder, meeting your eyes. “Why aren’t you two working?” a brow raising at you. “Shouldn’t you be cleaning the glassware?”

You release a frustrated groan but move behind the bar. Grabbing a couple glasses to shine, “What’s going on?” voice taking an irritated tone. Sick of your questions being ignored.

Their eyes track something behind you, turning and following their gaze, you find Benny leaning against the kitchen doorway, arms crossed over her chest. You raise a brow questioningly, and she reciprocates it. Before you can repeat your question again. “Break time, y/n.”

You slam the glass you were shining on the bar harder than intended, causing all eyes to shift to you. “You’ll find out after your break.” Benny’s tone holds no argument.

“Fine.” You say through gritted teeth, and aggressively pull your waist apron off and shove it into her arms before you walk into the kitchen.

Once you’re out of hearing distance, Dominic gives Benny an incredulous look, “She’s going to be upset once she finds out.” A heavy sigh exits her, “I know. Let’s just finish cleaning up. They should be here in about 20 minutes.”

Dominic and Adem nod and turn to help the others, and Benny runs a hand down her face defeatedly.

─

The Inner Circle make their way towards Benny’s Bar, The boys leading the way. Elain and Lucien had kindly offered to look after Nyx for the night, giving his parents the night to relax. Amren also couldn’t make it, since she is away in the Summer Court. The family all dressed comfortably since the bar isn’t exactly the fanciest place.

Azriel’s hands wringing together as he walks behind them. A bad feeling sat heavy in his stomach. He shoves his hands in his pockets and pushes away that feeling as much as he can. He typically prides himself on being a relatively calm and confident male, but that calm is slipping into nervousness with every step closer to the tavern. Mor’s and Cassian’s excited voices only seem to make it worse.

The bell above the door rings loudly in his ears, as they all step into the Bar. His assessing eyes track each patron, and It surprises Az that no one even bats an eye, completely ignoring the big group that had just arrived.

Benny bounds over, a beaming smile on her face, that the lot of them reciprocate easily. Nesta and Feyre, having never met the blue female, eye her curiously, but grin regardless.

“Welcome! I’m Benny.” Introducing herself to the two females, who introduce themselves in return. “Let’s get you all seated.” Her smile never left her face.

Benny leads them to a more secluded corner of the room to give them as much privacy as the Inner Circle can get. And just like Benny had said a couple of days ago, two large tables were shoved together. Once everyone is seated Benny hands all of them some old menus that had hardly been used in decades, “I’ll leave you all to take a look, then I’ll come back and take your orders.” The group thanks her as she stalks away.

“She’s lovely.” Feyre voices to her mate next to her, while opening her menu.

“You should have met her when she first opened this place.” Mor snickers. “She wasn’t our biggest fan at first, but we managed to get her to warm up to us,” Cassian says with a proud grin, which Rhys snorts at.

Azriel peers over his shoulder, hardly paying attention to the conversation in front of him. His nerves spike once again when his shadows start darting around, whispering to him about who is nearby.

As he tries to shoo them away so he can see for himself, a deep booming voice comes from behind the bar. “Archeron! Get your ass behind the bar!”

The whole group's head snapped in the direction to find the source of those foul words. Nesta and Feyres' faces are set in a look of outrage, and the boys look about ready to kill. But as soon as they go to do something about it, a familiar head pops out from the kitchen door. You. Everyone’s mouths immediately snap shut.

Your own face is set in irritation. “What?” You growl back at the deep voice. Azriel’s dark brows raise a fraction, his gaze turning back towards his family, mouths dropped to the floor, watching you make your way over to him, while quickly trying to tie an apron around your waist. Az’s shadows now trailing across the wood flooring towards you, and he struggles to reign them back in.

Nesta's attention whirls on Cassian. “Is this why we’re having dinner here?” She snaps at him. Cassian shuts his mouth as he meets her eyes, “No, I had no idea.” His brows pull together as he turns back to look in your direction, at the same time Benny stops by Dominic and you. His frown deepens, “She did though.”

A slender figure obscures their view of you all of a sudden “I’ll be your server for the night.” The person's voice. Morrigan’s face lights up, “Odessa?” She questions, leaning back in her seat to get a better look at her. “Hi, Mor,” Odessa replies with a chuckle. Her head turns back behind her, towards you having a stare off with the male in front of you. You don’t know that they’re here, she realises as she scratches down their order.

─

Glaring at Dominic, who tilts his head towards the liquor, then throws a rag at your face. His silent way of telling you to hurry up. “I still had ten minutes left of my break.” you hiss, ripping the cloth off your face.

He shrugs, turning his attention back to the glass in front of him, “It’s busy.” You’re about to whip him with the towel in your hands before Benny’s blue form leans against the bar top in front of you. Raising a brow at the scowl on your face. “We have customers waiting.”

A rumbling laugh comes from your right, and a bottle of alcohol is shoved into your hands so hard you have to take a step back. You take a deep breath at the smug look on his face, he then hands you a note with a drink order scribbled on it in Odessa’s handwriting.

Without another word, you read the order, and step up to the shelf, take six shot glasses, and place them down on a tray, lined up. You pluck the lid off the liquor bottle and bump-pour the shots. Practically slamming the bottle down once done.

A low whistle is heard from the kitchen doorway, spinning on your heel, your eyes narrow at the blonde. Oberon has the gall to smirk at you. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Smirk widening as your face twisted further in frustration. Benny steps in before you can blow up, hand sliding onto your shoulder to try to get your attention. However, a flash of mousy brown hair slides in behind the male in front of you.

Tarian’s smile is almost smug as he peers over your shoulder, his focus catching on something, and he elbows the male next to him in the ribs, Oberon snorts at the observation. With a huff, you turn your head to see what is so interesting and find a dark shadow swirling by your shoulder.

All frustration leaves your body, knowing who it belongs to. Eyes widening, and panic setting in. Why is it here? Is he here? Are they all here? Your gaze lands back on Benny next to you. Who’s expression softens considerably upon noticing the flash of hurt that crosses your features.

Now you finally know who they were getting the place ready for.

Hesitantly looking around the room, and immediately lock eyes with hazel. Then the rest of your family, whose attention quickly turns to anything else, trying to make it look like they weren’t just gawking at you. You release a shaky exhale and push Benny's hand off your shoulder. “A bit of warning would have been nice.” You grit out. A guilty smile tugged at her lips. “I thought you would freak out and run.”

You can’t help but gape at her words. “Name one time I’ve done that.” She gives you a look, and you're reminded once again of how you started working in the bar in the first place. “Oh piss off,” you grumble before going back over to Dominic.

Choosing to ignore the fact that you have six pairs of eyes currently tracking your every move, you push a tray of shots to the edge of the counter. “Dessa.” Calling her attention away from a female sitting on one of the bar stools.

You point at the tray and she reluctantly leaves the female’s side to get the drinks. Giving you a wink as she heads in the direction of the large group. You send her a crude gesture as she turns, pulling a snort from the bulky male next to you. “Be nice.”

You throw the rag that you had been holding, at him. “You're lucky I didn’t whip you with that.” Turning towards a customer waiting to order. Shuffling comes from behind you, and in your peripheral you see Tarian ushering Oberon back into the kitchen.

Benny lingered by the doorway as well before following the two males. An unexpected breath of relief escapes you now that her eyes aren’t on you. Disregarding that realisation you keep yourself busy with pouring drinks, keeping to yourself for the rest of the night.

─

Azriel hasn’t taken his gaze off of you since you entered the room. Though that isn’t unusual for him. He had caught himself doing so since your first interaction in the human realm. An invisible force guiding his attention to you constantly, however, he always brushed it off as your charming personality. As far as he knows, you never seem to notice.

Scarred fingers twitch as he watches you move, strung so tight it almost looks painful. Trying with every fibre of your being to ignore the group of people who let you down. He let you down. He should’ve said something to them. He thought they would remember on their own. He was wrong.

He should’ve told you that he remembered. That could’ve helped at least a little, you would know that you’re not an afterthought, that he sees you. But he was a coward. Didn’t want you to think of him in that way, because it's easier for him. Did you end up even opening the present he got you? He wouldn’t blame you if you threw it out.

He gets pulled out of his thoughts by plates being cleared from the table. A red-haired male doing so as quickly and quietly as he could. How long had his self-deprecating thoughts distracted him? That question is answered by the Inner Circle standing from their seats and grabbing their jackets. Hardly conversing.

As Azriel starts walking out of the building behind his family, he looks over his shoulder, he sees you taking off your waist apron, muttering something to Benny while heading through the kitchen. A jacket hanging from your arm. He loses sight of you very briefly as the Tavern's door closes behind him, but then sees you exit out of the bar’s back door.

The rest of the group doesn’t seem to notice, already ambling in the direction of the River House, so he slips away over to where you’re standing.

He’s silent as he does so. He can tell that you know he’s there if the way you tense up is anything to go by. Stopping a good distance away from you to help make you feel like you’re not being cornered.

The silence that passes between you feels loud. “You didn’t seem surprised when you all realised I work here.” Pulling your jacket tighter around yourself, keeping your gaze forward. “Everyone else looked like they’d seen a ghost.”

Azriel studied your side profile, moonlight highlighting each feature, trying to decipher what you are truly feeling from your quiet, monotonous voice. He remembers you being far more expressive when talking. However, he knows three months can truly change someone. Especially with the way you were treated.

At his extended silence, you finally turn your head towards him, and the uncomfortable yet questioning look you give him prompts him to finally speak. “I saw you with Benny at the Cafe two days ago.” A heavy sigh leaves you at that. “Why didn’t you tell them?” He frowns at your question.

”Why would I tell them?” Now it's your turn to frown. “Because they’re your family. Plus work for Feyre and Rhysand. Doesn’t that mean you need to tell them everything?” Azriel shuffles on his feet, wings twitching at his back, shadows crawling across the pavements towards you, as if wanting to comfort you. Trying and failing to reign them in, He turns his attention to the Inner Circles disappearing forms, hardly in view anymore.

You follow his gaze “Not everything.” Brows pulling together, many questions on the tip of your tongue, but he continues before you can voice them. “Most things yes, but after what happened,” turning back to look at you, “You’re happy here. You should be able to keep a safe space. You found that with them.” He tilts his head to the Bar back door behind you, a curl falling over his forehead as he does so. Another sigh leaves you. “They all came anyway. So that doesn’t matter anymore.”

Thick brows pull together at the defeated tone of your voice. Opening his mouth to say something, but decides against it. You notice it though, deciding to ignore it when he stays silent.

A roaring laugh from the kitchen pulls both of your attention. A long exhale escapes past your lips. “I should get back to work.” Grabbing the door handle, almost hesitantly. “They miss you.” Azriel all but blurts out. Needing you to know. He cringed internally at the volume he spoke, not intending it to come out as a near yell.

You scoff. “If they missed me they would have tried to find and talk to me.” His shadows move sporadically, giving away his inner turmoil. “They wanted to give you time.” He tries to reason.

A sound of disbelief comes from you as soon as the words leave his mouth. “For three months? They wanted to give me time for three months?” Looking up at the stars to calm yourself. “For all I know they just forgot about me. It's not like it’d be the first time.” Azriel doesn't like the tone you’re using but understands where your anger and irritation are coming from.

Letting out a long exhale when he doesn’t respond. “I really should get back in there. I hope you enjoyed your night Azriel.” The sincerity of your tone makes Azriel’s shoulders slump, but he nods as you slip back inside. Leaving him alone with an uncomfortable silence. His shadows circled around him in frustration, whispering about the disappointed look on your features as you made your way back through the kitchen. They want him to go back in and keep talking to you, to try to get you to smile.

He’ll try again another day. Give you some time to collect your thoughts and feelings and accept the fact that they all now know where you are. No guarantee that they won't just show up when you need time to breathe. To turn your safe space into a place they visit often.

Maybe he can convince the Inner Circle to have a civil, grown-up conversation with you. Maybe you could get them to understand that how they treated you has affected you more than they could ever understand. That they hurt you. That you deserve better. You’re not a child anymore, you've been through stuff too.

He wants you to be happy.

With that thought, he jumps into the sky and flies home. But he’s finally realising that home feels different without you.

─────────────────────────

a/n: There might be spelling mistakes. I’m sorry this took so long, I couldn’t get this right for a long time, and I’m still not the happiest with it, but I can always fix it in the future. The family confrontation will be in the next part. I’m sorry that the story is taking a while. I promise that the actual love story with reader and Az will show up really, really soon. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this regardless. <3

#azriel × reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x reader angst #azriel angst #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar x reader #acotar #a new place #a new place series

707 notes · View notes

utterlyotterlyx · 4 months ago

Text

Eden

Azriel x F!Reader

Summary - You had heard the rumours of the illustrious Shadowsinger, and you knew better than to get involved with him despite his eyes finding you. Though, everything changes after one fateful night, and you find yourself unwilling to be another one of his conquests.

Warnings - angst, swearing, mentions of blood, fluff, fuck boy to angel Az, jealousy, some sadness, suggestive tones

Based on this ask

Word Count - 11.5k (oops)

"You know that sleeping around isn't going to make your mate miraculously appear, right?" Cassian pretty much shouted across the table to Azriel, wincing and the loud thumping of the music and squealing laughter drifting through the dancefloor of Rita's.

Shrugging, Azriel continued to sip on his potent drink, so potent that it took the edge off of his misery for a few hours to allow him to enjoy being buried inside another female before he went home to only be surrounded by every single member of his family acting sickly in love.

At first Azriel only did it to forget about Elain and Lucien, at how she chose the fox over him, but then it spiralled into something more. It had become to poisonous and filled him with so much venom that he despised being around his family at all. He had moved himself out of the House of Wind to a small but cosy apartment on the outskirts of the city, mainly so that no one truly knew how many women he was bedding each week, but so that he could also escape the turmoil of mating bonds and happiness.

"I don't have a mate," Azriel admitted, truly believing that the Mother had chosen to restrict him of that single purity he had always yearned for.

His eyes scoured the crowd, trying to find a female he hadn't taken to bed yet, not wanting to fuck the same woman twice and lead her to believe that he wanted anything more from her than what he did.

"Don't say that," Cassian scolded lightly, frowning at his brother and worrying about the dimness laced in his eyes as they lazily dragged across the crowds. "She's out there, Az. You just have to be patient."

Cassian's words gave Azriel no hope. The Shadowsinger knew that Nesta disapproved of Cassian joining him in the evenings, and he knew that Rhys and Feyre were worried about his wellbeing, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

To care was to open himself up to more pain, and he couldn't do it again.

"No, I don't," Azriel downed the rest of his drink and rose from his place in the booth, rolling his shoulders and feeling his shadows peak up from behind his wings, just as solemn as their master. "You should get back to Nesta. I'll see you for training tomorrow," he mumbled, fixating his gaze on the woman he knew for certain he'd be taking to bed that night to forget how lonely he truly was, stalking toward her and leaving Cassian more worried than he ever had been.

There was something about clubs and alcohol that you despised. Maybe it was the way males kept on knocking into you without apology, or how they would lean in and shout down your ear in an attempt to get you to dance with them.

No. It was definitely the heat that you hated the most. How the sweaty bodies would writhe and pulse to the beat of the music with little care of the world raging on beyond the doors. A world you had ventured across to set up a practice in the Night Court, believing that it was where fate needed you to be.

"Loosen up, y/n," your slightly inebriated friend, Alana, childishly begged as she grabbed your hands and swung them in time to the melody. "This is your first night out since you got here. Have some fun."

Part of you wanted to listen to her, to truly give in and push yourself outside of the bubble of comfort your solitude had gifted you. It wasn't that you hadn't tried to, it was just that you enjoyed your quiet nights in curled up with a good book, and your days of healing and walking about the city. It was routine, and you were happy living within it.

Allowing Alana to twirl you around in the tight black cut-out dress she had forced you to adorn for the evening, you couldn't help but catch a glimpse of the most beautiful male you had ever seen as the world span. Stopping in your tracks, you watched his grin widen as a stunning blonde female wearing little to no clothing swayed against the front of his body, grinding her hips and ass onto him whilst his fingers tightened around her waist.

"Who is that?" Alana came to your side sporting a knowing smirk, biting her lip softly as she too watched the male move in rhythm with the woman in front of him.

Just as his lips floated downward, whispering and nipping at the shell of her ear, did Alana admit, "That's Azriel. He's part of the Inner Circle," her eyes moved to you, dragging from your feet up to your face, "And he'd ruin you, sweetheart."

"I'm not interested," you lied.

Alana saw straight through it, "Liar," she nudged, "There isn't a single unmated female in this city that doesn't wish that he wouldn't beckon them to his bed, and he's had many of them."

There was no way that you could compare to the woman in front of him, she had golden blonde hair and rouge painted lips, and she had a wildness to her that you'd never be able to own. And, like he knew that fact, his eyes moved upward to yours and you felt like he was searching the depths of your soul. The stare was so intense that you felt the heat rise to your cheeks and had no choice but to break the contact, and you felt his smirk rake over your body as you turned away.

For the rest of the evening, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop yourself from finding Azriel from wherever he was in the room. Women flocked around him, but it was clear that he had made his choice, and you had to watch as the woman sauntered from the bar, dragging him behind her for an night of ruin.

And all you could do was wonder what exactly that would be like.

Nursing a hangover and little to no sleep thanks to the blonde feline Azriel had taken to bed that morning, the last thing he wanted to do was train with Cassian, but he knew he'd never hear the end of it if he bailed.

So there he was, clad in his leathers beneath the scorching sun, regretting all of his life choices.

At least he found something new out, something that his shadows didn't deem necessary to tell him. There was a new female in the city, one who reeked of Dawn, who was as beautiful as a setting sun in the depths of summer. Azriel couldn't help but picture her face whilst he fucked that woman, imagining her lips breathless and perfectly rounded, imagining the smoothness of her skin under his touch, and the subtle waves of her hair spiralling down her back.

It seemed that his wish to know more of her was answered the moment Feyre and Rhys stepped onto the training grounds atop the House of Wind, muttering about a new healer that Nyx had become obsessed with.

"Nyx just adores her," Feyre spoke with wonder, clad in her custom made training leathers that Rhys had made for her. "He let her give him his injections, he won't let Madja close enough to even try."

Rhys hummed in response, smiling at the memory and clearly pleased by the being he had welcomed into the city, "Well, Thesan did say that she is the best he's seen in a long time. I'm glad that she's here. It means that Madja can retire now if she wants to."

A new healer? From the Dawn Court?

No wonder she was so beautiful. She had been born in the most serene court of Prythian, she had probably grown up with the Peregryns, and had been trained by Thesan himself.

Turning his attention back to Cassian, Azriel couldn't help but let his mind wander to the healer he had seen the night before. It was strange how he found her eyes, pools of innocent bliss gazing at him from across the room that he couldn't help but be infatuated with. He still felt the pang of disappointment in his soul when she had looked away.

Training ensued without any issues, and by the end of the session Azriel was sure that he was going to throw up whilst Cassian seemed as chipper as ever. Nesta must have been nice to him when he returned home last night.

Just as Azriel went to flex his wings and return to his apartment as far away from the House of Wind, and thus Elain and Lucien, as possible, the clearing of a throat caused his feet to stick to the ground. "Az, a word?"

Rhys stood a mere few feet behind Azriel and watched as his tensed wings folded between his shoulders before he slowly turned to face him. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Rhys narrowed his eyes, still anxious about approaching Azriel considering the last time he had expressed his worry it had caused Azriel to move across the city. "I have a mission that I need you to go on. It's urgent. There's been increasing reports from the mountain camps that wing clipping has made a return. I need you to verify it."

It was one of the few things that truly got under Azriel's skin, the removal of wings from Illyrian females, usually little girls. Wordlessly, Azriel nodded, turning his back to Rhys and stepping toward the ledge that would plunge him downward, "I'll leave this afternoon."

And with that, Azriel extended his wings and propelled himself upward, ebbing and flowing over the scape of the city and trying to pinpoint where exactly the new healers practice was located. He had even sent his shadows out to continue the search when he had returned home, needing nothing more than the wash away the sweat and stench of alcohol alongside the lingering teeth marks peppered along his collarbone.

It made him feel disgusting. Azriel awoke each morning with a different female coiled around her torso feeling less like a man and more like a personal whore to the women of Velaris. It was tiring, but it was the only way he could tear his mind away from the pits of his immortal loneliness.

During his preparations, his shadows returned singing their findings.

The Sidra.

Beautiful.

Angel.

Sad.

Azriel wondered what in the world could cause something so incredible to be sad. And he vowed to delve deeper into the female upon his return, to find out what was the cause of her sadness and rid her of it.

If he couldn’t fix his own life then perhaps he could fix it for someone else. Someone who deserved it.

The sun had began to wane by the time Azriel was ready to leave for the mountain camps, he was dressed in his usual leathers with siphons glowering under the descending light. He didn’t bother looking back at the mess that was his apartment, he was used to looking back and saying goodbye to Cassian, and ruffling Nyx’s black mass of hair whilst promising the child that he wouldn’t be long.

But he was alone now, he had nothing to look back to.

It didn’t take The Shadowsinger long to reach the mountain camps. He landed far enough away to not be detected and approached the camps on foot, taking the time to try and evaluate when his life had become so unsatisfying and lifeless.

Looking into the eyes of that woman across the room at Rita’s was the first time he had felt alive, truly alive, in what felt like eons. And he was sure that he’d be chasing that feeling for the rest of his miserable days on the earth.

His wings were drooped at the tips, almost dragging along the floor, and his shadows continued on their melancholy journey slithering over his spine and shoulders before shivering and returning to where they had come from, searching for a speckle of warmth.

It was only when he heard the cries echoing from the centre of the camp did he truly focus on why he was there. The cries were whimpering, pleading, begging whoever it was to stop, and the voice was so gentle, so childlike and innocent that Azriel was beginning to lose the taut grip he usually had over his self-control.

Truthteller sang at his side, thirsty for a taste of blood, eager to take another life especially if it meant ridding the continent of another monster. Azriel was happy to indulge it.

Without wasting a moment, and without thinking, he entered the clearing in the centre of the camp and moved as fast as a phantom wind in cutting down the Illyrian males that deemed the barbarity acceptable, starting with the poor excuse of one that was towering over the cowering girl who had blood leaking from her ears and nose.

It was a bloodbath, and Azriel couldn’t bring himself to stop, not even when the arrows embedded themselves into his thigh and torso and caused his vision to blur. He could make out the pools of blood, and he could feel his shadows tightening around his limbs in attempt to get him to stop, and only when his breath became latched within his throat did he realise that there was no one left for him to maim, no one that would dare to face him anyway.

He hissed at the spreading pain being carried through his body, grabbing one of the three arrows and pulling it from his skin, smelling the arrowhead and cursing at the faint scent of nightshade laced to it.

Azriel knew that he didn’t have long, a few hours at most to make it home and get to Madja before the poison claimed him. Part of him wondered if there was any point, if living was something he truly wanted to do, but then he remembered her and the look in those beautiful eyes that had him craving life and adventure.

He decided to try. For her.

The last thing you were expecting that night was to be awoken in the early hours of the morning, when the moon was still alight in the star glittered sky, by a shouting High Lord and one of your assistants.

Your day had swam by like they all did, you healed, prescribed tonics, created balms and ointments from scratch, and visited the orphanage in the centre of the city, carrying out health checks so that everyone could rest assured that all of those beautiful children were healthy even if they weren't exactly happy.

Every patient that stopped by during the afternoon had much to tell you. After seeing you at Rita's the night before, they felt more comfortable in gossiping to you, realising that you were committing to their culture and activities. So you weren't exactly surprised when your fifth patient had something to say about Azriel.

You doubted that he even saw you through his drunken, lust-filled haze, but you saw him; you saw his hazel eyes lazily hooded and warm when they found you, you saw his lips tilt upward into a smile, and you saw the clear pain that lingered beneath the surface. Alana had told you, sternly, to not think of him, that he would be the ruin of you, but you couldn't help but think about him.

Now that you had the image of him, it was impossible to remove it from your mind.

Your mother would have scolded you for it if she were alive, she would have said that you had worked too hard and spent too long training to heal those who needed a kind touch to throw it away for some pretty male that hadn't even uttered a single word to you. She was right. As always.

Which made the entire situation a lot more strange, so strange that you had genuinely believed that you were dreaming when your assistant entered your bedroom above the practice and shook you awake.

"Y/N?" Priscilla asked, sheepishly shaking you before fumbling with her fingers at her front. "I'm sorry to wake you, but it's an emergency?"

Light spilled in from the slightly ajar door, and you could hear Rhys talking frantically from the floor below, his voice drifting up the stairs and into your ears.

It wasn't a dream at all.

You sat up quickly, causing all the blood to rush to your head, and you didn't bother to put any shoes on as you slid a plush cream cotton cardigan over your arms and barrelled down the stairs.

A gasp escaped your lips.

There lay Azriel on your examination table, blood smeared over his leathers and siphons, his skin pale and sickly, and his shadows limp in a circle above his head.

"Y/N." Rhys spoke, voice tense and wobbling, and your eyes snapped to him. He was also coated in blood, Azriel's blood, and the High Lord looked between you and his brother desperately. "Please."

Running your fingers through your unbound hair, your quickly threw it up into a loose set bun at the back of your head and quickly disinfected your hands before you moved to the Shadowsinger, to the same male who couldn't look more different than he had in Rita's.

"What happened to him?" Azriel groaned at the sound of your voice, not fully coherent but it was like he knew that it was you tending to him, and his shadow perked up for but a moment before slumping back onto the table.

Rhys was beside himself, raking his fingers through his hair and down the sides of his face. "I sent him to the mountain camps to verify a rumour," he told you, not wanting to give too much away, "He was shot with arrows, I think they were poisoned. He came back to us like this, barely breathing and mumbling some nonsense about wanting to look back."

"Did you bring the arrows?"

Within seconds, Rhys produced two of the arrows, and you noted that Azriel must have taken the third one out himself at left it in the mountains. You run your fingers along the wood, bringing the oaken arrows to your nose and scenting the oozing liquid coating the head.

"Nightshade," your voice faltered. It wasn't often that you saw anyone with nightshade poisoning, they usually didn't last so long, and the fact that Azriel had was a miracle.

You flew around the room, gathering various ointments, balms, and rags, ordering Priscilla to fetch a bucket of tepid water to keep his fever down.

"Azriel?" you called to him softly, and his head moved in the direction of his voice, "I'm y/n. I'm going to help you, alright? You just need to stay with me for a little while longer. Can you do that?"

A low whine passed through his lips, tugging at the strings of your heart, and you took that as his voice of agreement. Ordering Rhys to stand back and for Priscilla to press the dampened rag to his forehead, you began to work.

Slowly, you cut through his leathers to expose his chest to the Velarian air, noting every ripple and tense of his muscles and they writhed from the effects of the poison in his system. Without thinking, you rested your glowing palms against his abdomen, calling on every morsel of your power to dive into his veins and extract every drop of poison that lived within him.

Rhys and Priscilla watched in awe as the poison began to vacate his body through the entry wounds left by the arrows, they watched that black putrid filth run down the sides of his body and drip onto the stone floor. But you didn't stop, you wouldn't let a single tear of that poison live inside of him, and once the last drop had left him, Azriel opened his eyes and gasped.

The relief he was feeling must have been profound. His eyes trailed along your face, much enjoying this version of you than the one he saw at Rita's, noting the long lashes of your closed eyes as your power surged through him to ensure that his blood was clean. You didn't even realise that your eyes were closed until his clammy, trembling fingers curled around your wrist.

His eyes were weak and drowsy, he was rightfully exhausted, and you pulled your hands away slowly, the glow in your palms weakening more by the second. Then you moved your eyes to his face, his sickly pallid face and equally pale lips that were parted in shock.

And then you felt it, that golden thread withering in solitude connecting with its other half, entwining and thrumming in clear skies, burning gold in the pits of darkness.

"Mate." Azriel rasped, eyes wide and fingers fumbling to keep a hold on you, his thankful shadows trailing up your arms to steal the warmth locked beneath your skin.

You could feel Rhys' eyes on you, examining you, not knowing what to do or say in the moment.

"Right. Yes." Azriel's wounds were still open and angry, and that is why you couldn't fully adapt to what had just happened between you, not when you could feel his pain laced with hope flow down the freshly unlocked bond.

The rest of your work was done in silence. You applied thick balms to his wounds to urge them to close and disinfect before bandaging his entire torso and thigh, apologising when each wince would sound from his lips. And all he did was watch your face whilst you worked, he watched the furrow of your brow and the concentration within your eyes, and he realised why his mind was focused on you since the moment he had seen you.

You were his mate.

His mate.

His.

When you had finished, you turned to Rhys who was perched upon a nearby chair, observing in perfect silence, and beckoned him to follow you onto the porch of your practice, closing the door softly behind you whilst Priscilla continued to clean the blood and dirt from his skin. "He would have died if you had come five minutes later."

Rhys took a step toward you, "Will he be alright?"

Part of you had to admire Rhys for his care, for the way he cared about every member of his found family and how he would go to the ends of the earth to ensure that they lived, but another part of you hated him for sending Azriel to the mountain camps in the first place.

"He'll be fine. I suggest letting him rest, someone will need to watch him," your voice trailed off slightly, not knowing whether to offer or not considering the revelation that he was your mate, "I'll stop in and do regular checks over the next couple of days, but for now he just needs to be somewhere comfortable."

"I'll take him to the River House," Rhys promised, knowing that was the only place where Azriel could truly rest, and the only place where you could enter without having to go through the rest of their dysfunctional family. "How are you feeling?"

A thin smile tugged at the corners of your lips, "I'm fine."

"I meant," he took another step toward you, glancing down at the blood that now stained your cardigan and skirt of your night dress, "How are you feeling about Azriel being your mate?"

Peering over your shoulder and through the window, you saw Azriel looking up at the ceiling with a gentle smile on his lips. "I know who he is, his reputation. I'm someone who has given their entire life to be amazing at what they do, which means that I'm inexperience in other aspects. I don't think I'm the kind of woman that he wants."

Shaking his head, Rhys brushed against your side, "Trust me. You are everything that he has ever wanted."

All you could do was hum in reply, and you folded your arms over your chest to protect against the chilled winds as you stepped back inside, internally grinning at Azriel's effort to sit upright the moment you were back in his presence. You stopped at his side, "I've told Rhys to take you somewhere comfortable so that you can recover, and I'll stop by over the next few days to make sure that you're healing properly and that there aren't any side effects from the poison."

Azriel furrowed his brow, "But what about us?"

"Let's just get you healed first," you told him, doing your best to stay calming, "Then we can revisit everything else."

He wanted to say more, he wanted to take your hand and bring it to his mouth, he wanted to know what your skin tasted like on his tongue. He wanted to know everything he could about you, and he was desperate for it, so desperate that no words fell from his fumbling lips as he tried to force a reply.

Azriel felt like a schoolboy approaching his crush for the first time, and you noticed that the illustrious Shadowsinger was truly lost for words.

"You can take him now, Rhys. I'll come by in the morning."

"Thank you, y/n."

Azriel watched as you bowed your head to Rhys in acknowledgment, "Of course," you told him, your eyes finding Azriel one last time before all he could hear was the patter of your feet against the wooden stairs and smell the lingering scent of fresh berries and sweetened citrus.

Waiting for the morning was driving him insane already, but he would wait for you. He would always wait for you.

The morning had come too quickly, but sleep hadn't found Azriel that night, and he wasn't sure if it was because of the stabbing pains in his chest or the excitement bubbling in his gut at the thought of seeing you again.

After being fixed up, Rhys had winnowed them both back to the River House, Rhys refusing to let Azriel be anywhere else considering you have given him strict instructions to ensure an eye was kept on him, at least until he could walk on his own two feet.

He had forgotten how peaceful the River House was in his miserable meandering through life, he had forgotten its comfort, he had forgotten what it had been like to be around family. His room had been left untouched, his bed made and books still open on the last pages he had read splayed across the desk.

By the sunlight pooling onto his bedroom floor, Azriel could tell that it was nearing midday, which meant that you were going to be arriving any moment. Any movement made him wince, but he found enough strength to be able to sit up in the bed, he knew that you'd want to check the wounds beneath his bandages and wanted to make it easier for you.

His wings were tucked neatly behind his back, and his shadows were sleeping soundly atop his shoulders. Azriel was too busy watching them to notice the opening of his door, only realising that someone else was there when their scent worked its way into his bones.

"You're sat up," your voice was light and soft as you entered, medical bag in hand and dressed in a plain but beautiful taupe gown with low looped sleeves and a corset of brown leather. "That's a good sign."

Azriel's heart stopped at the sight of you, at your hair unbound but the front pieces held back by a cream coloured fabric headband, at the dress and the glowing of your skin in the warming sunlight.

With a small smile, you perched on the edge of the bed, unclipping the clasp of your bag and retrieving some small vials and tubs, setting them down on the bedside table and turning to him. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. Much better," was all he could manage to say, completely mesmerised by the hue of your eyes in the light and shape of your lips, "Thanks to you."

"It's no problem," you told him softly, reaching for the bandages around his torso and taking your time in unwinding them.

In a couple of days he would be as good as new thanks to his other-worldly healing beginning to kick in, and you told him as such as you reapplied the balm and placed two patches to the effected areas on his torso, carefully massaging the balm into the wounds to make sure that it did its job.

"I need to talk to you," he took your wrist in his hand before you could move your attention to the wound on his thigh, his eyes were pleading to talk about something other than his pain, you could feel it flow down the bond that you were trying to adapt to. "I need to know where your head is, with us."

"The moment you looked at me that night was the first time I felt that someone had actually seen me, even if you were drunk," you spoke with a huff of amusement, "You looked at me, and then you took a woman home who is infinitely more beautiful and wild than I am, and then I had to hear everything that everyone says of you. Forgive me if I'm feeling apprehensive and would like to just focus on making sure that you live."

Azriel understood, truly he did, but that didn't make the words sting any less. "I'd like to show you the real me, if you'll let me." His heart thundered in his chest at your silence, and the nerves settled in his gut and swarmed within his heart that was beating for you.

Unable to deny those rounded eyes brimming with hope for a brighter tomorrow, you sighed, "Fine," you told him, "Once you're back on your feet, I'll give you a chance. Now let me work."

The tone of your voice made Azriel release your wrist and settle back into the cushions of his bed, and he didn't make a single sound whilst you worked on the wound buried into his thigh, applying the same balm and wrapping it up before giving him instructions for the ointments and tonic to help the pain. "Thank you for saving my life."

Your eyes found his again and you could have melted at the pure desperation within them, "Well, I couldn't exactly let my mate die now, could I?"

"Will you be back?"

Azriel observed you as you packed up your things, disposing of the bloody rags and bandages in a wisp of smoke. "I have some errands to run but I'll stop by on my way home. Is there anything that you need?"

"Just you."

Even in his state Azriel was a shameless flirt, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop the innocent smile from taking over your face, but you couldn't stop the blush from prickling at your skin, and a part of you didn't want to.

"I'll be back later. Eat something and rest, you need to build your strength back up. The tonics can help with the rest and the pain."

Azriel tilted his head in your direction whilst you gathered the last of your instruments, clasping your bag shut and rising from the bed. He knew there was a reason why he had been drawn to you, why you hadn't left his mind, and it was because you were his mate. The one fated to be his. The one thing he thought he'd never be able to have.

And gods, you were the most perfect thing he'd ever seen.

With a gentle and reassuring smile, you squeezed his forearm softly before removing yourself from the room and taking your time in making your way downstairs, dawdling in the halls to examine the artworks and ornaments lining them. Though, you weren't expecting to come face to face with Cassian the moment you moved from the last step.

He wore a shit-eating grin and stood before you with his arms crossed tightly over his chest whilst his eyes slowly drifted to the stairs and what, or rather who, lay resting on the floor above. "Always in the right place, aren't you y/n?"

Luckily for him, you had often been in the right places when he required some healing or tonics, whether it be for him or Nesta during her most recent cycle. "It's quite literally my job, Cass."

Cassian grinned and chuckled deeply, his orbs morphed into sincere and he cleared his throat, "Thank you for what you did last night. Azriel may be difficult but he's family. We'd be lost without him." He laid his large hand on your shoulder in thanks, it was light a weighted blanket, comforting in a way you'd never found in anyone else. "And," he began, sighing, "Rhys told me about the bond. How are you feeling?"

Dropping your shoulders, you shook your head slightly and looked toward the ceiling, worried that Azriel was going to hear what you had to say before finding Cassian's gaze. "I'll tell you what I told Rhys, and Azriel. I don't think I'm the kind of woman he wants. I've heard the rumours, I've seen the kind of women he takes home every night and I couldn't be more different to them. I'll give him a chance once he's better, but that's all I can do right now."

"I understand," Cassian smiled sadly, removing his hand from your shoulder and glancing down at the bag loosely held in your fingers. "Isn't today supposed to be your day off?"

Rolling your eyes, you lightly swatted his chest as you passed by, "Stop analysing my schedule, Cass. I never have days off anyway."

"How else am I meant to know when to come to see you?" Cassian called after you, unmoving from his place at the bottom of the stairs.

"You don't need an appointment to come and see me," you waved him away without turning around, pacing into the lounge and instantly feeling your confused mood lift when you saw Nyx wobblily walking about the room.

The small child, under the watchful eye of Feyre, instantly moved to you, babbling and reaching upward, and you swept him into your arms and felt your soul blossom when he rested his head on your chest. "He loves you," you craned your head to the side at the sound of Feyre's voice, a pencil was lazily held between her fingers and the sketchbook resting in her lap was kissed with the first swirls of grey, "Nyx that is, though I'm sure that Azriel does too," she spoke, setting her things down on the centre table.

"Well I only care about Nyx right now."

You were sure that Azriel could feel your joy and love for the child flowing down the bond, you seemed to be able to feel everything the other felt. His hope, pain, and blissful desires, and your exhaustion and innocent joys.

"I just want you to know that Azriel is probably the best of us," she began, rising to her feet and smoothing down the wrinkles in her skirt, she approached you, eyes flitting between you and Nyx with a serene smile, "He is patient and kind, courageous and gentle, and he has so much love to give. I think the recent period in his life was caused by the belief that he wasn't worthy of it." Feyre ran her fingers through Nyx's short onyx hair, "You deserve to see the real Az, in the way that we see him."

"Thank you, Feyre."

The High Lady hummed softly, "Always," you gently passed Nyx over to her, allowing him to grab your finger in his tiny palm in an attempt to get your arms wrapped around him again. "Are you going into the city?"

"Yes. I have some supplies and orders to pick up, and I'm going to try to enjoy the little time I get to spend by myself."

"Well, have fun. We'll be seeing you later? Why don't you stay for dinner?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to intrude-"

"You're not," the deep voice of Rhys reverberated from behind you, his chest brushed against your back as he passed, heading straight toward his mate and child and kissing them both lightly on the forehead before turning his attention to you fully. "You save us all on a daily basis. You're always welcome here."

"I appreciate that," you swayed back and forth on the balls of your feet, wanting the ground to swallow you whole, "I should get going. I'll see you both later."

It didn't take you long to gather the supplies and orders that you needed for the practice, and once you had dropped them back of Priscilla, who admitted that the day had gone slowly, you decided to take a walk around the city. You browsed the endless bookshops and headed to the markets to see what garments they were selling, settling on a flowing ivory skirt and shimmering pale blue dress.

The sun was setting by the time you were done, bags in hands full of new treats for yourself as well as a new toy for Nyx that you had seen and couldn't not buy.

Scents of honey cured meats and roasted vegetables drifted down the stone path that led to the River House, and you could faintly make out the silhouettes of Rhys and Cassian through the window. And, like she knew that you were stood there watching, Feyre opened the front door and smiled at you, beckoning you closer.

Feyre took all the bags from your hands bar one, the one that you needed to take to Nyx who was already on his feet and swaying over to you the moment you stepped through the door. You knelt on the ground to greet him, the paper bag settled on the floor beside you, "I got you something today," you teased, diving your hand into the bag and retrieving the small stuff bat you had spied at one of the many market stalls that afternoon.

Nyx beamed, taking it from you and babbling his thanks as he moved into your arms, looking up at you expectantly to pick him up, and you did so without question.

"You spoil him too much," Rhys moved to sit beside you on the couch, watching Nyx with a faint smile as he played with his new toy. "Azriel is walking around. Seems that whatever you did is working."

"I would say that it's because of his own determination but we both know that was all me," Rhys laughed at your words, especially at how you had modified your tone to be Nyx-friendly.

"That it was," a sultry voice drifted through the air, sending involuntary shivers down your spine. You glanced over you shoulder, spying Azriel in the doorway with his hands buried into his pockets, looking as perfect as he had that night at Rita's.

His hair was messy, like he had raked his fingers through it with frustration, his skin was golden, and it looked like he had gotten some kind of rest given the disappearing bags that lingered beneath his eyes. The shirt he wore was unbuttoned toward the top, allowing you to see his still intact bandages and the tattoos that swirled the area. His wings were poised and neatly tucked at his shoulders, like he wanted to appear as unthreatening as possible to you.

Azriel appeared shy and sheepish, eyes floating through the room, finding Cassian and Rhys before landing on you and Nyx. So that was what the joy down the bond was, it was Nyx, it was a child that made you feel so light and happy.

Recognising the tension between you both, Cassian took the opportunity to plop himself down on a nearby armchair, setting his feet upon the table where Feyre's art supplies still lay, and spoke, "So, you two are mates?"

Closing his eyes, Azriel wanted nothing more than to punch his brother through the ground and into the realms of hell. Instead, he inhaled deeply, "Yes, Cassian," he gritted through his tensed teeth, noticing that you had chosen to take your awkwardness and pour your attention into Nyx.

"Well? What are you going to do about it?"

Slowly realising what Cassian was doing by the cock of his brow and slight smirk, Azriel decided to play along, "I'd like to take y/n out. I'd like to get to know her and see if she would like to accept the bond."

Cassian turned to you, innocent mischief laced in his orbs, "Y/N. Would you like to go out with Azriel, get to know him and figure out if you'd like to accept the bond?"

Rolling your eyes at his antics and slicing a glare to Rhys who had slightly sunk into the cushions of the seat, you replied, "Yes. I would."

"Great," Cassian shot to his feet with a clap of his hands which made you jump slightly, "Tomorrow. Az will pick you up from the practice."

"Fantastic."

"Amazing."

You and Azriel both spoke in unison whilst Rhys' foot tapped against the floor, raking his fingers across your mind and slipping into your lowered walls. I'm sorry about him. He's always been a meddler unfortunately.

You don't say.

The first date was going well up until it wasn't.

Azriel had arrived at the practice at sundown, flowers in hand, looking more incredible than you could have ever thought he could. It was clear that had spent the entire evening planning your first night alone together, he had taken you to the restaurant along the Sidra and had spent most of the time asking you questions about your work, appearing genuinely interested in the journey you had taken to get you to where you were.

He was intelligent, and soft, and funny in his own dry way, and you were beginning to understand what Cassian and Feyre meant.

It was going perfectly until a woman approached the table, batting her eyelashes toward Azriel and looking to you like you were the biggest pile of nothing on the continent. She was beautiful, long brunette curls and feline honey eyes, and it didn't help like she had the body of a goddess, carved from the finest of marble. You didn't want to admit it, but she made you feel so inferior, so disposable.

Azriel was polite, his fingers drifting against yours the entire time she was at the table, trying to reassure you whilst she essentially asked when she could see him again. In the nicest way he could, Azriel told her that he wasn't interested and asked her to leave, and all that had earned you was a venomous glare and a scoff.

He apologised profusely, and you accepted it, you were willing to let it go. After all, you could understand why women would approach him. Azriel was gorgeous, perhaps the most gorgeous male in all of Prythian, and you couldn't blame anyone for approaching him. If you had that level of confidence then maybe you would have too.

The second time it had happened, it dampened your hopes that a life with Azriel could work.

The Shadowsinger had asked you to go on a walk with him to the markets, he had picked out jewels and other beautiful items that he was sure would look beautiful on you. You had insisted that you didn't need them, that you could but them yourself, but he wasn't having any of it.

It was all going well until another woman showed up, curling her painted fingers around his bicep and pressing her body up against his side. Azriel looked visibly uncomfortable, you'd give him that, and like the same women he sent away at dinner, he told her that he wasn't interested and to leave him alone. The woman all but snarled at you, and you knew that you were going to be the talk of the city, that you were going to be known as Azriel's newest flame.

Unfortunately, it just kept on getting worse.

The people of Velaris had begun coming into the practice faking injuries just so that they'd be able to speak to you and pull the situation between you and Azriel from your lips. It was tiring. Everyone had their pasts, you knew that and you were fine with Azriel's, but it didn't mean that you wanted it waved around in front of your face.

Every single fake patient that waltzed through the doors to your practice served as a constant reminder that you'd never be good enough for Azriel. But you had seen the good in him, you had seen how much he respected you, how his eyes lit up when you spoke about whatever it was that you were passionate about, and you felt his adoration flow down the bond whenever you would see Nyx. You knew that Azriel was smitten, but you also knew that he had no idea just how much everything was effecting you.

It had all come to a head the night he had suggested to make you dinner at his apartment, to minimise the risk of anyone approaching you, and you deduced that it must have been Feyre's idea. Not even the Inner Circle were free of the city gossip mill.

He had done his best to be as comfortable and romantic as possible, and you knew that he wasn't expecting anything to happen, he just wanted you to see how serious he was about you. Candles lined the ledges, and he had placed pillows at the coffee table before the large arched windows which allowed you to see the entire golden valley of Velaris.

It was beautiful. It was perfect.

Then, halfway through the dinner he had impressively made by himself, the door to his apartment opened, and before your eyes stood the same blonde bombshell he had taken home the night you had seen him for the first time. Your breath became lodged in your throat, and all you felt was disappointment and sadness at yet another date being ruined.

"Oh, I'm sorry to interrupt," she walked further into the room, eyes drifting about the candle-filled ledges with a smirk. "I was hoping that you'd be alone tonight," she was brazen enough to remove her coat, revealing little clothing beneath in an outfit that extenuated her curves and breasts.

Azriel's eyes were trained on you, but you couldn't look at him. You folded your hands into your lap and kept your eyes on the floor, trying your best to not cry in that moment, to not appear as weak. But he could feel it, he could feel the sadness and anger bubbling inside of you.

"Come on, Azriel," she purred, golden hair flowing over her shoulders, "Say goodbye to your latest conquest and come back to me. We both know that she clearly isn't what you want."

That was it.

Wordlessly you rose to your feet, hastily gathering your jacket and satchel in your arms before rounding her toward the door. "Don't take it personally, sweetie," she called after you condescendingly, "You just aren't what he needs."

You had never run anywhere, not because you didn't want to but because you enjoyed your slow meandering, you enjoyed watching the world go by slowly, but you sprinted home that night, ignoring his pleas down the bond and instead deciding to shut it off completely as you slammed the door shut to your bedroom.

A couple weeks passed by, weeks of silence which you channelled into your work, opting to take a research trip to the Autumn Court to sample their botanicals for a new balm you wanted to craft. The best part about leaving the city for awhile was that you could work undisturbed by Azriel and the Inner Circle.

Luckily for you, Eris, the new High Lord, was happy for you to experiment your skills and craft on his soldiers and injured townsfolk, knowing of your reputation and passion for healing. He had offered you a place in his court, doting on you often in a bid to get you to stay, but nothing would get you to leave the wonder that was Velaris, no matter how much you wanted to burrow yourself away and hide for eternity.

That morning, you were nestled at the edge of a brook that was passing through the forest just east of Fir Manor, drawing flowers and examining their properties when you heard the leaves crunch from behind you. From the scent, you knew that it was Eris coming to check on you again. He looked good, he adorned a pair of sage green briefs and a cream blouse, and you couldn't forget the brown leather riding boots you loved so much to the point he had gone out and bought you your own pair.

"This is the third time you've stopped by this morning alone," you spoke, not lifting your gaze from your notebook that was littered with colourful sketches and text.

Eris fell to your side, finding a comfortable place on the blanket you often carried around with you so that your body didn't break against the rocks. "I've been invited to the Night Court to see Lucien. I think that they're hoping that you'll join me."

The pencil in your hand froze against the parchment, and you straightened your posture to look at him, at the amber eyes and fire-red hair that he had recently had cut. Eris had been kind to you, understanding the need to escape for awhile, he had immersed you in his culture, had given you many dresses to fit the season, and not once did you see a droplet of hatred within him.

You were aware that the time was approaching to go back, that you couldn't leave Priscilla on her own for much longer even if Madja was back from her holidays and taking the brunt of the patients in the city. Though, you wished you could have a little longer to enjoy the serenity and joy of your work without everything else weighing down on you.

Looking to him, you smiled thinly, tapping the end of your pencil against the parchment of the notebook, "I suppose it's time that I went back anyway. I'm surprised that the practice hasn't burned to the ground yet."

Eris chuckled, his shoulder brushing against your own, "If things are still tense when we're there, you're always welcome to come back with me."

"Thank you, Eris. I really appreciate everything you've done for me."

"Of course," he smirked, "Anything for Prythian's best healer."

The High Lord jumped to his feet, wiping away any small rocks and pebbles of dirt from his briefs before offering a hand to you and helping you up off of the ground. "Always an ulterior motive with you," you lightly scolded him, looping the strap of your satchel over your shoulder whilst he folded the blanket over his arm.

"Can you blame me for wanting you all to myself?" Eris nudged into you, falling in step with you back toward Fir Manor. Once inside the safety of the walls, Eris asked you to pack your things, including the items he had gifted to you, and winnowed you both to the boarder of the Night Court where Rhys was already waiting.

Eris had never seen anyone so desperate to leave his side in years, he watched intently as you babbled some nonsense about needing to get back to the practice, muttering a soft goodbye before disappearing.

"Are you trying to piss Azriel off?" Rhys asked, eyes following your figure through the woodland until he couldn't see you anymore. You reeked of Eris, of Autumn, and wore a dress of burnt orange and riding boots that matched Eris' own. "You know that they're mates."

"For now," Eris quipped with a smirk, causing Rhys to look toward his new ally with confusion, "Can you blame her for questioning it? Considering every time they've been together it's been ruined by one of his one-night whores?"

Rhys was all too aware of what had happened thanks to Nesta who had heard from Cassian, she was too worried about Azriel to not divulge what she knew even though she couldn't stand to be around Rhys. Plus, Nesta liked you, from what little she had seen, she believed that you were a gift from the mother to them all.

"I can't say that I do," he admitted, frowning at the place where you had been stood, eager to get away from him.

It must have been hard, to find out that you had a mate, to give him a chance for it all to be ruined by his past conquests sticking their noses in where they weren't wanted. Then there was the matter of the gossip, of people truly believing you had slipped him some kind of love tonic to get him to want you. It had infuriated Rhys when he had found out, so much so that he had visited those spreading such vile accusations and ordered them to stop or otherwise be banished from the City of Starlight.

Rhys wanted to protect you, he wanted you to be happy even if it wasn't with Azriel.

But not with Eris. Never with Eris.

Unwillingly, Rhys escorted Eris to the House of Wind to be with his brother and new sister-in-law, and returned home to Feyre as fast as he possibly could.

It didn't take you long to catch up with an extremely thankful and tired Priscilla, her blue eyes were brimming with exhaustion and stress, her lips were cracked and her skin was dry. You apologised to her profusely, and thanked her for keeping the practice going whilst you took some much needed time away from the city.

Perhaps Alana was right, maybe Azriel would be the ruin of you.

Priscilla told you that she understood, but that she was happy that you were back. So, you gave her the rest of the week off, feeling alive and ready to dive back into the occupation you adored so much. It turned out to be a quiet day, shipping off some balms and ointments for some follow up patients, some minor cuts from training scuffled that were quickly treated and males sent on their way, and before you knew it the sun had began to set.

The chiming of the bell at the entryway signalled that someone had entered the practice past opening hours. Wiping your hands on your tatty apron, you headed into the waiting foyer, not paying much mind to anything until the scent of cedar and mountains kissed your lungs.

Azriel stood before you, eyes wild and appearing somewhat dishevelled, black bags beneath his eyes from lack of sleep and a certain worried paleness clinging to his skin. His shadows sensed you immediately, shooting from his shoulders and dancing around your waist.

In your haste to work you had forgotten to take a shower or change out of the clothes Eris had gifted you, and you saw that Azriel had noticed the style and scent that surrounded you. But, he swallowed harshly and rasped, "You look beautiful."

His tired words threatened to cleave your heart into a million pieces, "Thank you."

Silence hung between you, heavy and tense, and you weren't sure what to say. Should you apologise for the clothing and the scent of Eris that lingered around you? Should you apologise for disappearing without a trace with no way for him to contact you?

Azriel looked lost, like he hadn't slept since the night you left his apartment in such a hurry, but the words of that woman still lingered in your mind. Conquest. Not what he needs. It dawned on you that he may not have known just how deeply it had effected you, how inexperienced you had realised you were, how insecure these women had caused you to feel.

"I'm sorry, for that night at my apartment. I didn't invite her, I don't know why she even showed up," he took a step toward you and you didn't move, not knowing what it was that you wanted in that moment, "I should have gone after you. I should have stopped you from leaving but you silenced the bond and I thought I was the last person you wanted to see. I was wrong."

"Azriel, I-"

"Please," he took another step toward you, and kept on moving until his fingers caressed beneath your chin and pulled your gaze up to meet his eyes. "I didn't think that I deserved to be loved, not after what I've done. I thought that the mother had taken one look at me decided that I wasn't worth it. So, yes, I slept around, I wanted to do all I could to forget the fact that I was destined to be alone forever even though having a mate, having you, was all that I've ever wanted."

"You are magnificent, y/n. Truly. No woman even holds a candle to you. You are intelligent and passionate, you are beautiful and peaceful in ways that I never thought I'd be able to witness or feel. I stopped wanting to look back, I stopped wanting to say goodbye to the people I love, and then I met you and I knew I'd found the one I wanted to look back to every night and look forward to every morning."

"You are not a conquest to me. I was ready to accept the bond the moment you entered the room that night when I was lying there dying. You are my everything, you are my reason to live and breathe, you are my salvation. I don't want to live my life without you, not after I've gotten to see you in a way I know that no one else has. Please, y/n. Please come back to me."

You could feel the tears pooling atop your bottom lids, his touch was feverish but unrelenting, his hands cupped your face and his eyes searched your soul for a hint of acceptance.

"Azriel, I don't think that I can," your bottom lip wobbled, and the pain of your insecurity bloomed devilishly inside of your chest. "Your past doesn't bother me, and I never want you to think that it does. Every moment I've spent with you has left me wanting you more and more every day. But I'm not like them, I'm inexperienced in intimacy and dedicated to my work, and I can't allow myself to tarnish everything I have accomplished. I can't allow myself to feel small and insignificant anymore."

"You're not small or insignificant, y/n," his brow furrowed and he felt you slipping away, he didn't need the open bond to understand how much pain you were in, not when he could see it all etched upon your face. "You're everything that I've ever dreamed of. Please."

The moment you stepped away from his embrace, Azriel visibly winced, like he had been shot with a nightshade arrow through the heart. "I need time to think, Az. I need space to figure out if I can do this. Be yours but also be mine."

He didn't want to pester you, he didn't want to beg and make you feel like you owed him anything, but gods, did he want to crawl onto his knees and kiss the ground that you walked on. To Azriel, you were the sun, you were the moon, you were the seasons. You were everything.

Azriel swallowed his words, his pleads, and gently nodded his head, stepping forward and placing a chaste kiss on your cheek before retreating from the practice, carefully clicking the door behind his exit.

It took you a few minutes to be able to gather yourself, to be able to move from that spot, but you did, if not for yourself then for Alana and Eris that were making it their mission to take you to Rita's for a few drinks, to allow you to let off a little bit of steam.

In the next hour, you were bathed and donned in a tight metallic bronze dress with a high slit that reached your hip, a plunging neckline and hair waved down your spine. Eris was always barking at you to live in the moment, and for once you were inclined to agree. So when he and Alana saw the light spill from your opened door, did they turn around and gasp at the woman who stood before them.

"I didn't know that you could clean up this well," Eris mused, earning a light slap on the shoulder as you moved from the practice to join him and Alana on the walk up to Rita's.

"I told you that I could look good when I wanted to."

Alana hummed knowingly, "And this has nothing to do with the fact that you told Azriel you needed space?"

"Maybe a little bit."

Eris laughed, bold and proud, "Showing the Shadowsinger what he's missing. I didn't know that you had it in you."

Rolling your eyes, you noticed Rita's in the distance, and the queues of fae waiting to be allowed in, "This is actually for me. I'm tired of feeling inadequate and looked over. Tonight everyone gets to see that I'm not something to be ignored."

After a short walk up the paved hill, the two fae guards on the doors quickly ushered you inside, and the scent of alcohol and the thick wall of sweat instantly crashed into you. Alana excused herself to go and get drinks for you all whilst Eris led you over to the booth where Lucien and Elain sat, across the room from the others but in their direct eyeline.

Whispers sprouted around you, causing your shoulders to tense up. The healer that had been meddling with the Shadowsinger was now latched to the hip of the High Lord of Autumn.

What a cunning little thing.

So much ambition.

You did your best to ignore them as you walked behind Eris toward his brother and Elain, smiling sweetly at the pair as they rose to greet you, hugging you tightly and telling you how nice it was to be able to finally meet you. Elain was charming and kind, and Lucien was warm and welcoming, and they took you under their wings effortlessly, blocking out the demeaning whispers from the fae surrounding and watching you.

After a few more drinks and shots, thanks to Alana, you found yourself leaning into Eris' side, hazed by the heat and slightly tipsy. You laughed with Elain and shared your love of flowers with her, and you spent time with Lucien telling him how beautiful you found his home court, speaking of the markets and the food in detail. "Sorry brother, but I'd like to steal y/n for a dance."

Eris was stood at your side, looking down at you expectantly with his hand offered out to you. Part of you should have known better, you should have known that Azriel was watching you from across the room, watching as the love of his life was swept away by another Vanserra.

Nudging you to your feet, you sent Lucien a wry smile as you took Eris' hand and allowed him to lead you to the centre of the dancefloor. He pulled you close to his chest and swayed with you to the beat of the music that flowed through the room.

"Does Azriel even know what he's missing?" Eris spoke lowly into your ear, lowering his mouth to the shell of it so that you could hear his voice in your soul. "If I were him, I'd crawl across the fires of hell to have you."

Eris was being brazen. He raised his fingers to your face, the tips of them flitting across your cheek to a strand of hair that had fallen down the side of your face, pushing it back eloquently behind your pointed ear. His fingers lingered, sparks of fire nipping at the skin of your neck as his fingers travelled downward.

You weren't sure what to expect, but you couldn't exactly blame the fist that had flown into Eris' jaw, sending the High Lord crashing to the floor. Azriel stood over him, the crowd had parted to watch the spectacle vying for your attention. Your eyes had blown wide, and it took you a moment to come back into the room. Azriel turned from Eris and stalked over to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and resting his chin on the crown of your head as he made the world dissipate in swirls of colour until you were stood in the centre of his apartment.

Azriel towered over you, eyes wild and possessive. You hadn't seen him look to territorial before, but the look in his eyes had you in a chokehold. "My past with females isn't what bothers you. It's having it in your face constantly, it's the whispers and cruelty that bothers you. I understand that now, and I'm sorry that I didn't see that before." Azriel's voice was calm, too calm, like a predator prepping their prey, luring them into wings of security.

His marred fingers traced where Eris' had once been and his eyes flickered with fury, "But Eris does not get to touch you like that. You are mine, y/n. I refuse to let you go."

"You are not what they say you are," he took a step toward you, the force of his knees against your thighs ushering you backward, "They are jealous of you, of us, because they'll never get to know what this is like. They'll never get to know the taste of your skin or the way your name sounds on my lips. They'll never get to know the love I have for you," his hand gripped your waist, and Azriel continued to walk you backward until the backs of your legs hit the ledge of his couch.

"Because I do love you, y/n. With everything I have, I love you. I knew it from the moment I saw you, I knew that I was going to fall in love with you. Nothing could ever take me from you," his lips brushed over your collarbone, igniting a fire within you that you had never felt before, "I am yours forever. And I promise you, I vow that no one will ever make you feel insignificant ever again. Not unless they want to die by my hand. I would rip the world apart to ensure your happiness."

Azriel's words struck a chord inside of you, and you couldn't help but allow the bond to open, to allow his flood of emotions to crash into you like waves against the Summer Court rocks.

"Azriel," you spoke his name breathlessly, too focused on the sensation of his lips peppering soft kisses along your collarbone and neck. "Please."

He pulled away from you, placing his hands on either side of your neck and stroking his thumbs against your ears, "Tell me."

You had known for a long time, since the moment he had turned up at the steps of your practice holding flowers with a love-sick smile plastered on his lips. "I love you too," and you felt the bond sing at your admission, so brilliant and bright that your heart felt like it was going to lurch from its cage. "Please, Az. I need you."

Azriel lowered his lips to yours, hovering a feathers touch from your own, his breath scented with the faint aroma of whisky fanning over your face. With your slight nod, Azriel closed that gap and felt the bond fall into place, thrumming and secure, on the cusp of being fulfilled.

Your mouths moved in sync against one another, and Azriel effortless scooped you into his arms and carried you over to his bed, setting you down as gently as he could before climbing on top of you. His hands roamed your body, the curves of your hips and the mounds of your breasts, his fingers traced circled into the skin of your exposed thigh, teasing the sensitive area and smirking against your lips as you writhed beneath him under his touch.

His lips moved to your neck, sucking and nipping the skin there between his teeth, allowing you to begin unbuttoning his shirt to expose his toned chest. Azriel pulled away slightly when your fingers began drifted over the areas where his wounds once were, the wounds you had saved him from. "They're gone," you told him quietly, lips swollen but smiling under the dim light.

Azriel brushed your hair behind your ears and brushed his nose against yours, dragging the tip down the slope of it, "I told you that you were my salvation. I wasn't lying."

"I'm starting to believe that."

His eyes sparked with mischief and he sent a wave of love down the bond as he kissed your lips once more, "Let me show you."

And so he did.

Author's Note

SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG 😭

Really hoping that this has done the amazing ask some justice 🥺

Also I was so close to writing smut for this fic - looks like I'll need to do a part two or something...

Taglist

@mokansa @killseinx @lady-targaryens-world @brieftriumphnightmare @thesunloveschips @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog

769 notes · View notes

almostempty · 13 days ago

Text

he knows (lucien x f!reader)

(lucien x f!reader) | wc: 3.2k | other fics | pic from here

UH HEY! I’m just gonna drop this here and scurry away to finish the other lucien one shot that i also started today, ….and then i’ll return to finishing divorced dad rock joel, and responding to all of the lovely people on here–but, like, i really just need this guy in the most emotionally unavailable and fuckable way, i hope one of y'all gets me

tags/warnings/thots: 18+/explicit, smut, toxic ex/fuckboy lucien, sex instead of communicating or processing emotions, angst but we fuckin’ and that’s the whole plot, we hit raw in my fics bc of my imaginary latex aversion or something, crying, biting, dom lucien vibes (? i never know when that’s the right tag), big dash of pls sexy man fuck the feelings away, tell me if there’s something i should add

– no editing, no thinking, wrote this in a fever dream while staring at one of the new gifs all afternoon, idk his character! I haven’t watched anything! i just saw the chains and the face and let the horny devil in charge of my sole brain cell take the lead, aka he's my barbie, i was trying to challenge myself to just do something short like 1k- but, uhhhh it’s only 3!

seeking feedback though (as always) so i can improve!! tell me all ur thots pls!

“I know,” Lucien argues, “but I never meant to hurt you.”

“I don’t care anymore.” You speak plainly. Small and quiet. Without conviction. Apathetic. Honest.

“Anymore?”

“Baby, please.” He looks at you with those stupid round eyes. He’s effortlessly put together like the wrinkles in his silk shirt were approved by a team of stylists to give him a hint of carelessness. Your incessant attraction to an emotionally unavailable man, it pulls you toward him like a bitter fate. Your therapist, Angie, says you need to learn how to find healthy attachment attractive, but if you shudder with disgust at the thought then what’s the point?

“Just listen to me,” he continues, talking in circles. Apologizing without taking accountability. Explaining away everything. His behaviors, words, decisions. Apparently, he floats through life at the whim of others. Like one of those ugly deep sea creatures, he tempts you like a glowing lure in the dark. Your eyes glaze over, everything shifting out of focus as you dissociate in your living room. No matter how numb you are, he calls to you.

You aren’t listening to the words. They don’t matter. It doesn’t matter if his tone is sincere or if it’s thick with flattery and empty promises. It’s more basic than that. Simple. The timbre of his voice. Unique to him. Imprinted in the chambers of your heart. A sharp ache spears through you, and something cracks. A fat, hot, tear escapes. With your shoulders drooping, staring at the ground, the tear falls, splashing on the floor.

When you look up, meeting his eyes, it’s over. Lucien pulls you close, wrapping his heavy arms around your frame, bracing for the crescendo, keeping you steady. Tears stream endlessly, flooding down your cheeks, sticking to your face and his neck as you bury your face into his warm skin. He’s still trying to placate you, speaking nonsense, thinking he can comfort you. Thinking he knows why you’re upset. Thinking he understands you.

When your therapist asked you to define love you had described it as being understood. Being seen. Being known. Being considered and prioritized.

Lucien thinks he knows you. Thinks he understands you. Does he think he loves you?

Following this line of thought hurts. Splitting you open, a raw beating heart, glistening, thumping, full of life, or a meal fresh and hot for a carnivore to tear into with its sharp fangs. Plump muscle, rich and dark, bleeding out, helpless. Snapping back into reality you shake, a violent sob racking your diaphragm as the pads of his fingers massage the back of your neck. Soothing. Coaxing.

You want it sharper. Rough. Violent. Distracting. Painful. Anything. With wet lashes, swollen eyes, and ragged breath you become fixated. Licking the salty tears from the dip where his neck meets his shoulder, you can feel his muscles and tendons beneath the flesh. So human and alive. He strokes his hand down your spine, attempting to pacify you, but it sparks something lurid and ravenous, instead.

You graze your teeth along his neck. “What are you doing?” he mutters the question over the top of your head. Maybe he does know you. “What do you need?” He growls, lowly, the hand he traces your spine with trails lower this time. He’s gluttonous and torrid. A hair-trigger to shift from his concern for your pain and the hole in your heart to a sordid desire to mollify you with his fingers and his cock.

Maybe it’s a perversion, the tangled experience of despair and desire, the duet of anger and arousal, the sick escape using sex to skip over the emotional suffering. But it’s exactly what you want. It’s the root of the fucked up toxicity. Of everything wrong between you. He does know. He does understand. The same heat that flickers in your core sparks in his.

Voracious and brash. You bite down, sinking your teeth into his neck, igniting a wildfire. An untamable beast. Again and again and again. Biting, sucking, kissing. His skin tender and raw, your lips wet and swollen. You run a hand along the back of his neck, tugging into his hair, anchoring your grip, and pulling a husky groan from his throat.

“What do you need?” Lucien repeats, this time with a sharper edge. He detaches you from the safety of the crook of his neck. His two hands. Unnecessarily large, warm, and steady brace either side of your jaw, his fingers wrapping behind your neck. He holds you in front of his face. Vulnerable. Messy. Heat radiates from your cheeks. You release a shaky breath.

“Don’t make me say it.” It’s a whisper. Pleading and demanding at the same time.

The cocky smirk that spreads on his face is sickening. It makes you want to slap him, to hear the crack of your palm against his cheek. It makes you want to surrender. Soft and pliable, ready to please and earn praise. It makes you want to scream. To bite him so hard you draw blood. To fuck him until he can’t talk.

You tell him all of it. Exactly what you need, what you want, what you refuse to say. You tell him all through your kiss. The hunger in your lips as you press them to his, the violence on your tongue, the desperate and vulnerable need to be cared for in the soft moans that rise from your chest, from your heart, from the blood in your veins. He chases all of it. The punishment and pleasure.

He backs you into the kitchen, caging you against the counter like a scene from a movie. Impervious to whatever protest you make as he clears space, blindly sweeping his arm over the counter before lifting you onto it. The edge of the counter digs into your soft thighs, but it doesn’t matter. You’re ready to drown in the vanilla musk and bourbon-spiced scent of him. The bass in his voice that makes your eyes fall shut and your head tip back against the cupboard behind you. The bruising pressure of his grip that he knows you crave.

“Baby,” he croons. His words are soft and gentle. As if he propped you on the counter to tend to your wounds. But his hands show no mercy. Roughly ridding you of your clothes. Dropping them into a pile on the floor. He’s ruthless with you. In ways you can’t be with yourself. In ways other lovers could never master. Harsh without being cruel. Deliberate without a plan.

He lets you tug his shirt over his head. Skin to skin the intensity is primal. “Fuck,” is all you can manage to say. The heat is overwhelming, prickling your nerves and sharpening every sensation. Lucien toys with you like it’s his favorite game. Alternating.

First, palming reverently at the flesh, sweeping his tongue over your hard nipples, and teasing the wet skin with his hot breath.

You let him make the decisions. Take the lead. You’re done arguing, done thinking, done with the guilt of letting him in the door, done with acting like you’re any better than him. You brace yourself, one palm flat on the counter, the other resting on his shoulder. Taking whatever he gives.

He switches up. Everything becomes pointed and precise. He sucks marks into your skin on the underside of your breasts. He pinches and flicks the pert bud of your straining nipples. The contact of his fingers, tongue, and teeth sends white-hot jolts of electricity straight to your cunt. He bites down hard enough to make you choke on a moan. Your whine fills the room, twisted with pain and pleasure.

“You poor thing,” he purrs. Your face is still wet from your tears. But now they’re tears of frustration. “Just a mess.” You reach for his belt, impatient, but he stops you. He’s not done looking. He lifts one of your legs, propping your foot onto the counter and posing you obscenely in front of him. His gaze makes your pussy throb.

He’s torn.

Studying your face. Everything unsaid in your eyes. The anguish and rage. The acerbic disdain. The nearly imperceptible longing.

Admiring your sex, spread open for him. Shining with your arousal. Swollen, slick lips so sensitive for him. Your core, fluttering with anticipation, achingly empty without him.

He holds your chin between his thumb and curled forefinger. His eyes swirl with lust and something you can’t quite place. “You have no idea,” he rasps. “No idea how much it fucking kills me to see you like this. And knowing I’m the reason why.”

You don’t know if he means it breaks his heart to see the way you suffer or if he means the sight of you dripping on the counter has him so hard it hurts. You don’t know which you’d believe anyway. He’s not hard up to find someone else to torment or to fuck. That thought makes your throat dry.

“I can’t stay away from you,” he traces his fingers down your soft inner thigh, closer and closer to where you need him. “How could I?” You tip your head to the side, your limbs and head feel heavy, drunk on a cocktail of everything you love and hate about him all at once.

“Then don’t.”

Your reply makes him smile again. He’s so handsome when he smiles it’s infuriating. “You could scream at me, kick me out, hate me–but you still let me touch you, you need me to touch you. Why do I love that so much?”

“You like feeling important.” You let your snarky comment out without thinking. His question was definitely rhetorical. A few emotions flicker across his face before, a dark little smirk curls the corner of his mouth.

He feeds off of your challenge. “There she is.”

“I never left,” you snap, frustration spilling over. He laughs, loose and easy.

“Listen to me,” Lucien says, low and velvety. Subduing you with the tension and proximity. “I know. You want me to use you. Like you’re my toy. Until you can’t keep those beautiful eyes open.”

“Yes.”

“I know.” He echoes. Then he closes the gap, kissing you with affection. Holding himself back, but you aren’t reserved. You’re greedy; you want it harder. He just said he’d ruin you, why is he being so gentle? He pulls back with something sincere in his eyes. A whimper falls from your lips, pouty and baffled.

“Gonna fuck you like I’m trying to ruin you, baby.”

You narrow your eyes at him. Sometime soon, hopefully? You don’t snap again, answering with another yes.

He leans in, breath fanning hot over your ear. “But, we both know that tonight you’re the one using me. Ruining me. I’m your toy.”

Your breath hitches at that. You mouth I know in response, not even able to whisper it. He doesn’t need to hear you say it. He nips your ear lobe and you loose a surprised cry before gasping out his name.

He’s swift now. Purposeful. Undoing his belt, shoving his pants down and revealing his cock. Reflexively your hips tense and shift. Just looking makes you salivate. He runs his thumb over the bead of precome, drawing it along his length.

He knows how you want it. His fingers can coax you to an orgasm in no time, but you don’t want that. You want the resistance, the stretch, the dull ache, and intensity as your muscles work to let him in deeper. Nobody makes you feel the way he does. Full. Complete. Mindless.

It could be pornographic, vulgar, raunchy. The way he pushes your inner thigh further open with one hand while he uses the other to languidly stroke himself. The way he grips himself so tightly like he’s punishing himself. The way his jaw hangs slack and he mutters under his breath about how badly you need him.

To you, however, it’s a profound admission. A candid confession. The more he goads you the more it solidifies that he’s the one that needs you. That it flows so easily from him because he’s really talking about himself.

“You say you don’t care anymore, but look at you now, baby.” He shifts closer, at counter height you’re aligned perfectly. He glides the head of his cock up and down the folds of your soaked cunt. You shudder and moan, mesmerized by the sight.

“It’s almost sad how much you need me, like you can’t breathe without this,” he keeps talking.

He demands that you watch, as if there was a chance you could stop, as he lines up and sinks into you. You groan in unison. You’re so tight, he draws back out. Repeating the same motion, feeding his cock into you deeper and deeper each time. Your hot, plush walls pulse around him, adjusting. When he finally meets the end of you, he hums, pleased. “You feel that?”

You bob your head, nodding, agreeing. “Yes.” Your voice is breathy. “Perfect.” You grind against him as if you could take him any deeper, begging him to move with your needy display. It’s wholly overwhelming as is, every nerve within you alight as his cock kicks within you, tensing with the same craving to move.

He takes your hand in his, nestling your fingers around him. Somehow he feels even larger than he looks, like he shouldn’t be able to fit inside of you, but here you are feeling it and seeing it for yourself. Slowly, Lucien tilts his hips, almost pulling out of you completely before plunging in with force. He keeps up the tantalizing pace, guiding you to touch yourself. He watches your fingers with rapt attention, bracing a hand on your hip to keep you in place as he drives into you with another snap of his hips that edges you closer.

He gradually speeds up, a master at tempering his desire. Your hip flexor aches as you hold yourself in place but it doesn’t matter. You find your rhythm as he holds steady at a pace that has him landing brutal thrusts that force the words out of your lungs. Soft oh’s and fuck’s pour out of you, under your breath, adding fuel to the fire blazing between you.

Lucien savors your chanting and the image of you fixed in place, taking him eagerly. Your fingers move with urgency, chasing the release that looms closer and closer. Your mind is blissfully blank, reduced to something animalistic, removed from the burden of your history. “Don’t stop,” you plead, “I’m so close.”

He doesn’t stop. He fucks you at the same pace, all the way through it. As you contract around him, when everything pulls taut and snaps within you, crying out his name, when it’s too sensitive and you whip your hand away, and as you shudder and breathe deeper and deeper. As the ache in your legs from being spread wide open returns and your ass feels numb where the edge of the counter digs into your flesh. Another tear spills from the corner of your eye, but you can’t say what it’s from anymore.

When you fidget, he stops moving, letting you readjust. A sheen of sweat glistens all over your chest and you’re suddenly acutely aware of how loud the slick noises between you are. How easy it is to get lost in Lucien's hot and heavy magnetism. You know you were falling apart before he propped you up on the counter, but you’re sure you’re a complete wreck now.

Lucien pulls out but then leans against you, pinning the length of his cock between you, hot, slick, and messy against your sweat-damp skin. He floods your senses, all you can see, hear, and smell. Caging you in his hand find a possessive hold on you, one wrapped around the back of your neck, one wrapped tight around your thigh as you hitch it around his hip.

“You feel good?” he asks. You hum in agreement. You do feel good. You know he’s not done yet, and smile wide, still hungry for more. “How good?” he asks and you know there’s something coming next.

“So good.” You trail a hand between you, drawing a line down his chest and back up to cradle his cheek in your palm. Something about the prickle of his facial hair along your palm feels so natural, domestic, and sweet. You’re tempted to kiss his cheek, nuzzle against his ear, and ask him to take you to bed. But you can’t. You’ll never have that. Instead, you bait him. “I think you’re holding back though, I know you can fuck me harder than that.”

He scoffs, unamused, blowing a hot puff of air between you. His fingers dig deeper into your thigh, applying the kind of pressure that stirs arousal low in your belly.

The dark glint in his eye gives you butterflies. “I will, Baby,” his rumbling voice is innately sensual, but the condescension in his tone makes you tingly. You’re so close to him that you can feel his heart beating in his chest, you can feel the same pulse thrumming in his cock, still flush against you as he slants his lower half along yours. He’s all things heavy and firm, strong and sculpted, yet fitting so naturally against you. You need more, wriggling and squirming against him, you can’t contain the restlessness.

“You know,” he says slowly, drawing your eyes back to his. “You can keep trying to move on, but no one else will ever know you like this. No one else will ever ruin you the way I do. You can tell me you don’t care anymore, but you’ll never let anyone else in the way you let me. They won’t touch that part of you, the one that’s mine—because it’ll always be mine.”

It trickles through you slowly until your blood feels like it’s boiling. They’re tears of anger now. It’s like a sick double entendre.

“I know,” your words are steeped in every emotion cascading through you.

You don’t know if it’s worse that he’s right. That there’s a Lucien-shaped mark imprinted on your heart that will never fade. Or if it’s worse that he doesn’t even know it applies to him just the same. That he always comes back because he’s trying to fill the same void.

Maybe he does know. Maybe he does know and this is all he can do to make it up to you.

Maybe that’s why he leads you to your bedroom and lives up to his word.

Why he fucks you so hard you see stars. Why he doesn’t stop even after he comes deep inside of you with a possessive always gonna be mine. Why he litters your skin with more false promises and confessions. Why he gives you so many orgasms you lose track.

Maybe that’s why he’s still there when the sun starts to peek through your window. Why he fucks you slowly when you’re too tender and exhausted to take him any harder until you’re floating in limbo between a dream and reality. Why he stays there, just cradling your back into his chest and listening to the rhythm of your breath.

Maybe he does know.

PLEASE COME YELL WITH ME ABOUT THIS FICTIONAL GUY BC I NEED HIM IN A SUPER NORMAL WAY or tell me if my writing was incoherent or if you can't relate to the toxic ex that is still the best fuck of your life (cruel and twisted fr)

dividers by @/cyberangel-graphics

tags for the babes that let me annoy them with my thots <3

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame

@magneticecstasy @indiegirlunited @syd-djarin

#lucien de leon x f!reader #pedro pascal character smut #lucien de leon x reader #lucien de leon x you #pedro pascal #ppcu fanfic #pwp fic #the uninvited #lucien flores #but not #lucien x f!reader

353 notes · View notes

yearning-for-autumn · 10 months ago

Note

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...

2K notes · View notes

surielstea · 1 month ago

Text

Trick or Treat

Selected: Trick

Pairings: Rhysand, Azriel, Cassian, Eris, and Lucien x Fem!Reader (Separately)

Summary: A series of one NSFW one shots all pertaining to a very slutty Halloween.

Smut under the cut.

Rhysand

"Rhys," I let out in an eager moan, my body aching for more, needing him to move, to do anything but this sweet torture.

"Watch the movie, darling," The male purrs from behind me, his chest against my back, his lips brushing my ear.

"Can't," I breathe, grasping at his thigh, needing relief. "Please."

"Please what?" He taunted, dipping his face into the crook of my neck, beginning to trail kisses up the side of it.

"Move," I whimper. "Please Rhys, want you to fuck me," I beg, eyes glued to the television as the horror movie’s plot quickens, the eerie music building.

"I will baby, I will," He hushed in a reassuring tone. "Just stay still and watch the movie for me, yeah?"

I nodded, slowly, but as the movie went on the pressure in my core built, in desperate need of friction, of any form of attention.

I willed myself to stay still, to watch the movie, even though all I could feel and retain was the sensation of Rhysand buried inside of me.

"You've been good," He praised, nipping slightly at the mark he left on my neck. "So good," He whispered into my flushed skin and a shiver crawled down my spine. As a reward for my good behavior one of his hands, settled on my thigh, began its course upward, slipping beneath my flimsy skirt to the apex of my legs where we connected. He gave no warning before he began rubbing my clit with his thumb, teasing me with circles with not nearly enough pressure.

"Rhys," I whimpered, my voice a wobbling plead.

"Shh, this is the best part," He hummed, ignoring the way I was arching into him. He grunted softly as I shifted, my sore legs screaming at me for being in the same position for so long. I let out a broken moan as I adjusted to the new angle, so deep, he was so deep inside of me, and all the emotion he had to show for it was a few strained grunts.

A whimper escaped me, my grip on his thigh tightening as he applied more pressure to my sensitive clit, his touch still maddeningly light, just enough to make my breath hitch but not enough to satisfy the need thrumming through my veins. "Rhys," I breathed, voice trembling as I fought to stay still, to hold out as he wanted.

He chuckled softly, clearly pleased with the way I was unraveling in his arms. His fingers moved with a slow, deliberate rhythm, building the tension higher, pushing me closer and closer to that edge. "You're so close, aren't you?" he whispered, his breath hot against my skin. I nodded eagerly. "Yeah? I'm making you feel so good, huh?"

I let out a needy moan, my body arching against him, the ache consuming every thought, every feeling, except for him. "Please," I gasped, no longer caring about anything but the desperate need to reach that high, to feel him fully, completely.

Rhys let out a satisfied hum, grabbing me by the hips and beginning to lift me up and down his length, his touch just rough enough to make me gasp as the pleasure crashed over me. His hands tightened, holding me steady as my body trembled in his grasp, his lips tracing soothing kisses along my neck, grounding me through every wave of bliss.

"That's it, darling," he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction as he continued his slow, lazy strokes, coaxing every last spark of pleasure from me. "You did so well for me."

As I caught my breath, my head lolled back against his shoulder, a sleepy, satisfied smile on my lips. "Guess I'll need a replay of the movie," I murmured, feeling the warmth of his laughter against my skin.

Rhys pressed a kiss to my temple, wrapping me closer to him, his voice soft and full of promise. "Only if you're good enough to last through the whole thing next time."

Azriel

"Leave it on," I pant as Azriel reaches for his mask, grabbing his wrists. "Fuck me with it on." I plead, the rest of our clothes a pile at our feet. His eyes—the only thing I could see—crinkled in a smirk, drawing me forward and laying me out beneath him. He remained silent, not wanting to break my illusion, keeping the mask from his costume on, and spreading my legs.

I can only see his eyes, but they're smoldering, dark with intensity, and I can feel the heat of his gaze raking over my exposed skin.

"Please," I breathe out, arching into his touch, craving more of him. I can feel him everywhere and nowhere at once, his hands firm on my thighs, holding me open as if he's afraid I might slip away. But I don't want to. I'm here for him, only him, and I'm aching, wanting him to end this teasing game he's started.

Azriel's fingers press into my thighs, his touch reverent yet possessive. He shifts, aligning himself, his scarred hands sliding up, tracing a shiver-inducing path over my hips, my waist, up to my wrists. He captures them, pinning them above my head, his strength inescapable yet never brutal. I'm at his mercy, and I feel his power like a tangible weight, the thrill of surrender so sweet I can barely stand it.

"Keep your eyes on me," he murmurs, the first words he's spoken, a whisper like silk against my skin. His voice is rough, a hint of the raw edge that tells me he's holding back, barely. His grip tightens just slightly, a warning, and I nod, my breaths coming faster, harder.

And then he finally presses into me, slow and deliberate, every inch stretching, filling, consuming. A gasp escapes me as my body molds to his, and he pauses, his eyes boring into mine through the mask, watching, memorizing every reaction, every shudder. I'm laid bare, vulnerable, yet somehow invincible under that stare. It's as if he's reading everything I'm feeling, every thought, every desire.

"Good girl," he whispers. His words send a shiver racing down my spine, pooling warmth low in my belly. He pulls back achingly slow, then thrusts forward, the movement making me arch beneath him, a moan slipping past my lips as he sets a pace that's maddeningly restrained. Every roll of his hips, every press of his body against mine, feels like he's claiming me, branding me.

My wrists twist in his grasp, desperate to touch him, to feel his skin against mine, but he holds them firm, smirking down at me through that mask, an air of dominance that has me melting beneath him.

"Azriel, please," I beg, the words spilling from me unbidden, needy. I don't even know what I'm asking for. Just more. More of him, more of this.

But he only chuckles, a low sound that vibrates through me, his hand shifting to wrap around my throat, his grip pressing lightly, sending sparks of pleasured pain through my veins. "You can beg all you want, love," he murmurs, his voice a taunt, "but I'm going to take my time."Azriel's grip on my throat is light, just enough to keep me grounded in the wild intensity between us. He keeps his gaze on me, unwavering, his eyes hidden behind the mask's shadows yet somehow sharper than ever, every silent command pulling me deeper under his control. I can't tear my eyes away, as though looking anywhere else might shatter the hold he has on me, on my body, on every pulse that races through my veins.

He moves, his hips rocking in a slow, merciless rhythm, building the ache between my legs until I'm sure I'll unravel at his slightest whim. Every brush, every thrust feels like he's staking his claim, making me his. My wrists strain in his grasp again, desperate, craving the friction of my fingers against his bare skin, but he tightens his hold, keeping me still, a silent reminder of who's in charge.

"You wanted this, didn't you?" His voice is a rough whisper, his lips grazing my ear. The low, taunting tone makes me shudder, my breaths turning ragged as he rolls his hips deeper, hitting a spot that pulls a strangled moan from my throat.

"Yes," I pant, my voice barely a whisper as he continues his slow, torturous pace, pushing me to the edge, but not letting me fall. His control over me is absolute, and the way he's drawing this out has me desperate, wanting to pull him closer and scream his name, to make him lose control just as he's making me.

He lets out a low chuckle, the sound reverberating through my body, and I can feel his smirk in the way his lips brush over my jaw, feather-light and maddeningly slow. "Then you'll be a good girl and take everything I give you," he murmurs, his voice like velvet and steel.

I nod frantically, my body arching up to meet his, each roll of his hips sending shocks of pleasure through me. He releases my wrists finally, his hands skimming down my sides, possessive and deliberate, leaving trails of fire everywhere he touches. My fingers immediately find their way to his back, clutching at him, pulling him closer as if I can tether him to me, my nails dragging over his skin hard enough to leave marks.

Azriel growls, his hips snapping harder, faster, and I gasp, my body tightening around him, helplessly caught in the rhythm he's set. His hands are on my hips now, gripping me, guiding me into each thrust, his strength and presence consuming me, making me feel everything all at once. The tension coils low in my belly, building with each movement, each whispered word, each smirk hidden behind that mask that keeps his face shrouded in mystery.

"Azriel,” I gasp, the pleasure reaching a fever pitch, teetering on the edge of release. He senses it, his hands tightening on my hips, holding me firmly as he drives into me, his pace relentless, unyielding, his gaze locked on mine, silently demanding I stay with him, watch him.

"That's it," he rasps, his voice low, thick with his own desire. "Let go for me."

So I do, a cry escaping me as the tension shatters, pleasure flooding through my body, leaving me trembling beneath him. He watches every reaction, his eyes dark with satisfaction as he slows, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until I'm gasping, utterly spent, and completely his.

Cassian

"This is ridiculous," I grumbled from behind the foldable dressing screen, glancing at myself in the mirror beside me. "Utterly ridiculous." I huffed.

"Come on out sweetheart," My mate says in a delighted tone, making my rage double.

With a permanent scowl on my face, I stepped from behind the divider shielding me from his gaze, facing the grinning male.

"I hate this. It's a total objectification, why can't females wear costumes that actually cover their asses?" I complained, doing my best to pull the short fabric down. "I mean c'mon, a sexy warrior costume? It's a juxtaposition in itself." I gesture down to the revealing costume, the spandex bodysuit doing little to cover, anything really, and I was certain I've seen belts bigger than the skirt, which were really just flaps of a gold material, meant to look like armor. "I mean, who would ever think this is a good idea?"

"I do." Cassian immediately answered, his eyes anywhere but my own.

"Cass," I blow out a breath, clenching my hands into fists and rocking back on my knee-high boots with a string of curses. He finally made eye contact with me, a winning smile on his lips that I was certain couldn't get any wider.

"Don't give me that look, you lost our bet fair and square," He said, giving me a pointed look. I roll my eyes, ignoring him.

"C'mere," He sighed from his seat on the couch. I frown but approach anyway. Once I'm an arm's length away he reaches out, his hands on the backs of my bare thighs, pulling me closer.

He looked up at me and leaned his chin on my stomach. I placed my hands on his shoulders, slowly slipping them into his hair as he guided me onto his lap, straddling his hips—as well as his prominently hard length.

His gaze flickered with amusement, though there was something darker glinting in his eyes, a challenge that I couldn't help but rise to. Even through my embarrassment, I could feel the tingling thrill creeping over my skin, his hands firm against the backs of my thighs as he held me.

"Still complaining?" he murmured, brushing his lips along my jaw. His voice was that low, dangerous tone he always took on when he was trying to coax me out of my irritation—and, unfortunately for me, it was very effective.

"Yes," I snapped, though my heart wasn't quite in it. His fingertips trailed along my thigh, tracing small circles that sent shivers up my spine. "This costume is horrible."

"It's a masterpiece," he disagreed, tugging me a little closer, his grin nothing short of wolfish. "I think it fits you perfectly, and you're going to look fantastic in it tonight."

Tonight. The event at Rita's. I was not looking forward to strutting around the pleasure hall dressed like this while every other female was draped in beautiful gowns, covered head to toe. But, the bet was a bet.

I leaned back slightly, folding my arms and arching a brow at him. "And what exactly are you wearing, hmm? If I have to parade around looking like this, the least you could do is show a little skin too." I tease, pulling at the collar of his shirt to expose a small expanse of his golden, muscular chest.

"Oh, I fully intend to match." His grin widened. "But first," His hands traveled higher, sending heat straight to my core, and his eyes darkened, drinking in every inch of me. "We have a few hours before we need to leave, and I think you're too tense to walk around like this. Let me help."

I shivered as his fingers traced my waist, his hands slipping beneath the hem of the bodysuit, igniting my skin wherever he touched. His lips followed, trailing hot kisses along my collarbone, his teeth grazing as he worked his way to the sensitive spot just below my ear.

"Cass," I managed, my voice faltering as he nipped at my skin, that devilish smirk never leaving his face. He chuckled, pulling back slightly to look up at me, one hand reaching up to cup my cheek.

"Just relax, sweetheart," he murmured, his fingers tangling into my hair as he brought my lips down to his. "I'll make you forget all about that bet."

Cassian's hands explored beneath the costume, his touch deliberately slow as he traced the aching curves of my body. "Admit it," he whispered, his fingers tracing slow, lazy patterns down my spine. "You enjoy knowing that everyone tonight will be looking at you." His gaze locked onto mine, intense and unwavering. "Knowing they'll all wish they could touch you," He let the words hang between us, his hands drifting lower, his fingers grazing the exposed skin of my thighs with a feather-light touch. "But they can't. Because you're mine."

The possessiveness in his voice sent a thrill through me, and I felt my resistance crumble completely. I leaned into him, pressing my lips to his in a kiss that was anything but gentle, pouring all of my pent-up frustration and desire into it. He responded eagerly, his hands gripping my thighs as he pulled me even closer, his mouth devouring mine with a fierce hunger that left me breathless.

He kissed me with a passion that was both possessive and reverent. My fingers dug into his shoulders, holding onto him as he deepened the kiss, his mouth hot and demanding against mine. His hands drifted up my sides, gripping me through the skin-tight bodysuit and sending a shiver down my spine as he traced over every curve with a knowing touch.

"Cassian," I gasped as he broke the kiss, his lips trailing down my neck, his teeth grazing my skin in a way that made my breath hitch. His hands found their way to the small clasp at the back of the bodysuit, his fingers working deftly to undo it as he pressed a series of hot, open-mouthed kisses along my collarbone.

"Let me see you," he murmured against my skin, his voice thick with desire. The costume slipped from my shoulders, and he pulled back slightly to take me in, his gaze dark with unrestrained hunger as he looked at me.

I felt a blush creep up my cheeks under his intense scrutiny, but his expression held nothing but awe and reverence. He reached out, brushing a thumb over my cheek before leaning in to kiss me again, his hands roaming over my now-exposed skin with a possessiveness that made my heart race.

His lips found their way to my neck, then lower, trailing a path of fire down my body as he took his time savoring every inch of me. I arched into him, lost in the sensation, my fingers tangling in his hair as he worshipped me with his touch, each kiss and caress sending another spark of desire through me.

Cassian's hands moved with a confidence and skill that left no room for doubt, his touch firm yet gentle as he explored every inch of me, his lips following wherever his hands had been, leaving a trail of heated kisses that made me gasp and cling to him for support.

By the time his gaze met mine again, I was breathless, my skin tingling in the aftermath of his attention. He smirked, clearly pleased with himself as he took in my flushed, disheveled state, his hands still holding me close as he leaned in to press one last, searing kiss to my lips.

"Still think the costume is ridiculous?" he asked, his voice low and teasing as he pulled back just enough to look into my eyes, a smug grin on his face.

I could barely form words, my mind still clouded with the remnants of our heated exchange. "Maybe," I managed, breathless, "but I think you convinced me to keep it on. For now."

Eris Vanserra

"Eris," I breathed, struggling to keep composure with the way he had his hand pressed to my pulsing cunt, my back arching into his chest. "Not here," I whispered, anxiously scanning the area for any onlookers, but the corn maze we stood in was empty—while the maze was open to the public at all times, it was three am and Eris seemed certain we were the only ones in here.

"No?" He purred beside my ear, his hand past my skirt and rubbing me through my soaked panties. "The idea of getting caught, it isn't making you soaked for me?" I shake my head no. "Say it then," He demanded.

I frowned, unable to form the words, because in truth he knew how turned on this made me, the thrilling possibility of being caught, the anticipation leaving me dripping.

Eris chuckled deeply from beside me, his fingers adding a little more pressure, his thumb connecting to my clothed clit. I let out a quiet moan at the sensation, my body going taut. "That's what I thought." He smirked, walking me over to a bench of hay bales, and guiding me to lay down atop them.

He didn't drag on the foreplay much longer, he spread my legs and settled between them, hands slipping up my thighs, gripping my panties and shredding through them—my breath hitched at the idea of having to walk home with nothing beneath my skirt.

Eris tossed the torn fabric aside and leaned in, his amber eyes dark with desire. The night air wrapped around us, cool against my heated skin, and the rough texture of the hay scratched at my back as he settled between my thighs. His hands slid up, pushing my skirt further until I was entirely exposed to him.

"You're mine tonight," he murmured, voice dripping with promise as he nipped at my inner thigh, lips grazing against my sensitive skin. His mouth moved closer, and my breath caught when his hot breath fanned over me.

Eris looked up, catching my gaze with a wicked grin. "Look at you," he said, voice low, sending a thrill down my spine. "So eager and ready, even out here, where anyone could stumble upon us."

I opened my mouth to protest, but it was too late. His tongue pressed against me, deliberate and slow, and I couldn't help the strangled moan that slipped past my lips. My hands flew to the hay beneath me, fingers clutching it as he worked me over, every flick of his tongue bringing me closer to the edge.

Eris's grip on my thighs tightened as he picked up the pace, his hands holding me in place as he devoured me with the fervor of a man who knew exactly how to unravel me. I squirmed, breathless, my body arching into his mouth, desperate for more of his touch.

"Eris—" I gasped, voice breaking as the pressure inside me built, wave after wave, until I thought I might come undone right there on the hay bales.

He pulled back just as I teetered on the edge, and I let out a whine of frustration. His hands skimmed up my thighs, his fingers tracing teasing circles around my sensitive skin. "Not so fast," he murmured, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I want to savor this."

Without warning, he moved up, his mouth crashing against mine, tasting of sin and satisfaction. I could feel him pressing against me, hard and ready, and I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

"Impatient little thing," he murmured against my lips, positioning himself at my entrance. He pressed in slowly, deliberately, stretching me inch by inch until I was full of him, filled in a way that left me gasping.

His movements started slow, torturous, every thrust dragging against every sensitive part of me until I was writhing beneath him, the tension coiling tighter and tighter. He gripped my hips, angling himself just right, and I cried out as he hit that perfect spot, over and over.

"Quiet," he growled, his voice dark with need. "We don't want anyone hearing, do we?"

I bit my lip, nodding, though it was almost impossible to stay silent with the way he was making me feel. Each thrust sent sparks through me, each movement bringing me closer to the edge until I was teetering on the brink.

"Come for me," he whispered, his voice a dark promise, and that was all I needed. The tension inside me snapped, and pleasure crashed over me, wave after wave, leaving me breathless and spent.

Eris followed moments later, a low groan escaping him as he buried himself deep, claiming me fully.

We stayed there for a moment, tangled together, breathing hard in the quiet of the corn maze. Finally, he pulled back, a satisfied smirk on his face as he helped me sit up, brushing a stray piece of hay from my hair.

"See?" he murmured, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Nothing wrong with a little adventure."

Lucien Vanserra

Lucien's touch was everywhere, his fingers leaving streaks of dark green body paint across my flushed skin, each one a vivid reminder of his presence. The paint, cheap and easy to transfer, coated his hands and forearms from the Halloween party we'd come from, smearing onto me with every touch. Each brush of his hands, each powerful thrust, left a fresh line, almost as if he were marking me in a way that would last long after tonight.

I could feel the paint dragging down my sides, streaking across my jaw, and dotting my thighs as he spread my legs wider, his grip tightening until I was sure I'd feel his touch in bruises tomorrow. But I wanted it—I wanted to feel him, to wear these marks like badges, his possessiveness painting me just as much as his body was. When his hands gripped my hips with an intensity that bordered on desperation, his fingertips sinking into the flesh there, my back arched off the sheets in response. The once pristine white cotton beneath us was now as stained as I was, smeared with trails of dark green.

"Lucien," I gasped, air thick in my lungs as I gripped his long, red hair, my fingers twisting through it as I tugged, spurred by the overwhelming need pulsing through me. He responded to that touch, that pull, with a low groan, his thrusts only growing more insistent, more relentless.

"That's it, fuck, you feel so good," he growled, his voice rough, raw with desire. His mouth latched onto the column of my throat, lips, and teeth grazing the sensitive skin as he bit, sucked, and kissed along the exposed line of my neck. I threw my head back into the pillow, leaving myself open for him, letting the pleasure he was giving me flow freely, like a dam that had finally broken.

My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, my heels digging into his tanned back, urging him deeper. He shifted, and the new angle had me crying out, breathless at how perfectly he hit that sweet spot deep inside, each stroke deliberate yet utterly consuming. He was toying with me, his movements almost teasing, reveling in how he could make me writhe beneath him with ease.

With a wicked grin, Lucien adjusted his grip on my hips, his fingers pressing in just enough that I knew I'd feel his touch lingering long after the paint was gone. "Gods," he rasped, his voice thick with a hunger that mirrored my own. "You're taking me so well."

He leaned forward, his mouth trailing from my collarbone to my jaw, leaving warm, wet kisses in his wake. The scent of the body paint, mingling with his own earthy, masculine scent, filled the air, grounding me in the moment, and pulling me deeper under his spell.

"Did you wear that costume just for me?" he whispered, his teeth grazing the edge of my earlobe. For a brief, foggy moment, I tried to remember what I'd worn—a tight, dark dress that clung to every curve, a costume that had caught his eye from the moment I'd slipped it on, all of it meant to tempt him. Now, though, that seemed like a distant memory. All I could focus on was him, and the way he was dragging me to the brink.

"Only you," I managed to respond, my voice breaking as his pace deepened, his thrusts hitting harder, more intense. My moans filled the room, and he chuckled, a dark, satisfied sound that sent a new wave of heat rushing through me.

"That's my good girl," he murmured, his voice a rough, approving growl that shattered what little composure I had left. The praise sparked something in me, a desperate need for him to claim me completely, to fill every inch of me with his touch, his mark.

His thumbs pressed deeper into my hips, each movement of his hands adding new streaks of paint across my skin, his handprints smudging and smearing, as though he was branding me in his color. I could barely focus on anything beyond the sensation of him inside me, his body pressing into mine, his rough grip leaving trails of green along my ribs, and across my chest. I was his canvas, his masterpiece, and he was painting me with every thrust, every stroke of his fingers, every fierce kiss.

"You look good covered in me," he murmured, voice thick with a possessive satisfaction, his gaze devouring the sight of me beneath him, painted in his touch, his color. His hand drifted lower, wrapping around my thigh as he pulled me closer, his body aligning with mine in a way that made me gasp. Dark, messy lines streaked up the insides of my thighs, each one left there by his relentless grip.

As he leaned down, his hands came to rest on either side of my face, framing me, holding me as if I were something precious, even as he moved within me with a power that stole the breath from my lungs. His fingers, cool and damp with paint, brushed across my cheeks, his thumbs stroking gentle lines down my skin, leaving more traces of green. His mouth captured mine in a kiss that was searing, consuming, leaving no part of me untouched. The faintly earthy scent of the paint mingled with his taste, heady and intoxicating, making me feel dizzy as he filled every one of my senses.

The paint on his hands smeared along my jaw as his lips moved to follow, dragging a cool line down my neck, across my collarbone, until I could feel streaks trailing along my throat. The sensation of his palms sliding down my sides, smearing green across my ribs and waist, anchored me to him, to this moment. Each press of his hands painted me more thoroughly, my back arching into him as he moved as if my body was begging for every last trace of his mark.

When his body shifted, his fingers traced down my thighs, painting new lines in their wake, each touch leaving trails of dark green and filling me with a sense of being utterly, inescapably his. My body responded to him without hesitation, and I felt the pressure within me coil, tight and consuming, ready to break.

Lucien's hands never stopped moving, his fingers claiming every inch of me as his mouth grazed my shoulder, his breath hot against my skin as he whispered, "Come for me."

That command tipped me over the edge, and I shattered, my release crashing through me with a force that left me breathless, boneless. Lucien followed moments later, his voice a rough, broken sound as he called out my name, his body shuddering against mine as he finally stilled, both of us lost in the waves of pleasure that washed over us.

As we lay there, tangled together, my skin smeared with paint and his touch, I felt like a masterpiece—a living canvas painted in dark green streaks and handprints, marked in every way by him. Every smudge of color, every line on my skin, was a reminder of this night, a night I knew I'd never forget.

Read the SFW version here -> link

Replies and Reposts are always appreciated! ❤️

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

374 notes · View notes

illyrianbitch · 10 months ago

Text

-ˋˏ MASTERLIST ˎˊ-

✨ indicates smut ♡ indicates a series ✰ indicates a one shot ↯ installment of series but can be read as stand-alone ☼ indicates a drabble ❥ are personal favorites last updated: 9/13/24 helpful links for palestinian aid

Azriel

♡ . —One Summer✨ (On-going)

One beach house, one festival, one summer to fall in love.

♡ . —An Education in Malice✨ (On-going)

With the sharp tongue of your notorious family, you are Azriel's most tantalizing challenge yet. It only takes one small meeting before you both realize that the line between hate and desire is dangerously thin.

♡ . — The Anatomy of Dependence (Coming soon)

You and Azriel are drawn together by an unbreakable bond, encountering obstacles and triumphs across the centuries and finding your way back to each other again and again.

✰. —Death and His Reaper ❥

After suffering a devastating injury in battle, Azriel finds himself on the brink of life and death where he meets you, The Mother's reaper.

↯. — Back to Our Roots

With the Acheron sisters out of town, you and your family plan for a quiet night in— just like old times.

✰. —Where I Left My Lover

After a brush with death, Azriel makes a difficult decision to protect you.

✰. —What We Make of What We're Made

When Azriel overhears Feyre's concern about your transition to fae life, he agrees to check on you.

✰. —When the Heart is Still Longing ❥

Azriel thought you were the one. Now, he can’t move on

✰. —Pretty Little Shadowsinger

Cassian walks in on you dressing Az in one of your dresses.

✰. —An Evening Reunion

Azriel comes home from a mission. You talk to him about your day, but he’s far more interested in you—and your silk nightgown.

✰. —Memories

While packing some boxes, Azriel is overwhelmed by memories of your relationship.

✰. —What Lies Between Us (On-going)

Azriel has spent years trying to escape the ghosts of his past, retiring into a self-imposed exile despite a promising career as a talented detective. When you turn up at his door asking for help on a recent case, his world is disrupted.

✰. —Body Count

Anxious about how your lack of experience compares to Azriel's, you ask him about his body count. Unfortunately for him, he misunderstands the question gravely.

✰. —Safe✨

Azriel's night is troubled by a nightmare. He finds a soothing remedy in the arms of his mate.

✰. —Winner

You and Azriel are both sore losers. But when you cheat in a game of cards, winning takes on a whole new meaning.

Cassian

♡ ↯. —And I'm Thinking About Your Lips ✨ ❥

You and Cassian have been best friends since you were teenagers-- just friends. But one night at Rita's changes everything and now you cant breathe when you're around him and he can't stop imagining how you'd taste. ↯ Part One, ↯ Part Two

↯. — A Hobby for Two ❥

Cassian surprises you with a small gift. You spend the night teaching him how to properly enjoy it.

✰. —A Place For Dying

A mission with Cassian goes terribly wrong.

✰. —Words of Affirmation

Even the Lord of Bloodshed gets insecure sometimes. As his mate, you always know the right words to say.

☼. —Tender

Cassian cuddles with you when you have a migraine

Rhysand

✰. —Insatiable ✨

There are countless reasons why you and Rhysand don’t work… but those reasons don’t seem so important when you’re tipsy in a bathroom with him inside you.

♡ . — Lights, Camera, Love! (On-going)

Rhysand, Hollywood's hottest heartthrob, has everyone smitten—everyone except you, his co-star. But when rumors of your feud begin to affect the show's ratings, your producers propose a last-ditch solution: a fake romance to salvage your public image and reignite fan interest.

Lucien Vanserra

♡ . — Hidden Things (Coming soon)

Following a cryptic vision from Elain, Lucien finds himself seeking out an enchanted artifact at your shop in the heart of the Day Court. What he finds instead is a profound connection with you—and a version of himself he believed he had lost.

Eris Vanserra

♡ . — A House of Hunger (Coming soon)

Every Autumn court citizen is hungry for something; beasts starved for influence, desperate for control, ravenous for power. Your tastes are no different—albeit a bit specific. It's a deep craving that boils in the pit of your stomach, hot and heavy, all consuming. You’re hungry for revenge.

✰. —Blessed

Angered by Nesta's actions, the Cauldron turned you into a fae different than your sisters— a lesser one that resembled more animal than human. Now living in Autumn, Eris shows you a new perspective on yourself.

✰. —Of Our Own Devices

Desperate to reunite with Lucien since his exile to Spring, you find yourself paying an unexpected price to his older brother. Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six

✰. —Handsome as Life and Poison

Defying your father’s sacred command, you wander to the grove where Spring and Autumn blend, only to encounter a sinfully divine figure with glowing amber eyes.

Bat-Boys (Reader x BatBoys)

✰. —Worth It

It can be hard to remember why you’ve put up with your best friends for centuries-- until they remind you why they're worth it.

✰. —A Helping Hand

Even most powerful males in Prythian need relationship advice from their best friend.

Mini-Series

♡ . — Mirthroot Mini-Series

Between dodging death and saving Prythian, its always nice to make time and enjoy one of The Mother's greatest creations: mirthroot. Reader x ACOTAR Characters

1K notes · View notes

readtilyoudie · 1 year ago

Text

Amulet: Escape from Lucien (Vol 6)

#manga(visual)monday #amulet series #escape from lucien #kazue kato #emily hayes #vigo light #max griffin #adventure #fantasy #graphic novel

13 notes · View notes

stormhearty · 6 months ago

Text

✨ pairings: Azriel x Reader, former Lucien x Reader

🔮 preview: He had always noticed you — your pain, your anguish. You had seen him too, but you had thought he had always just tolerated you — you were his High Lady’s friend, of course. But when Azriel found out that your suffering had been due to an unfulfilled mating bond with the youngest Vanserra son, he couldn’t ignore your pain. His shadows also couldn’t ignore your pain. You noticed that the Shadowsinger started to grow closer to you, and you to him — but was it nothing but a duty for his High Lady… Or was it due to feelings that were always hidden in the shadows?

📣 trigger warnings: fainting 🔎 rating: PG-13 | 🔏 word count: 6.6k

💜 masterlist + notes: This is a one-shot sequel to the “Nothing But A Curse” Lucien x Reader fic, but it can be read as a standalone! I needed some happy ending for my reader, and some people have wished for a fluff Azriel fic. So why not kill two birds with one stone? Also based on this little gif, just imagine how tender Az is in this fic with how he holds the reader. I do hope you all enjoy this!

A sob wracked your body, your thin form shaking due to the pain, the heels of your palms pressing onto pristine marble. The wind blew through your hair, helping soothe the nauseating feeling that bubbled in your stomach. You pinched your eyes closed as you focused on your breathing.

In and out.

You didn’t care what was going around you — didn’t care that the reception was still in full bustle downstairs, didn’t care that you could hear the happy congratulations for the newlywed couple.

Didn’t care that the chance of happiness was ripped away from you.

You let out a shaky breath, your whole body shivering at the action as your stomach finally started to settle and your body wasn’t paralyzed due to your illness and the pain. With languid movements, you moved to attempt to sit on your claves when your body swayed, lightheadedness clouding your mind.

At this point, you didn’t care if you passed out — didn’t care if anyone didn’t find you. All you wanted was to be in peace, to be free from your pain.

But it seemed that wish couldn’t even be granted.

Cool tendrils of darkness wrapped around your middle and up your arms, steading your wavering movement. You allowed those whisps of darkness to ground you, letting out a sigh of relief — those tendrils cooling your heated skin, distracting you from the pain as you bowed your head, pressing your forehead to the cool marble.

“(Y/N)…”

Azriel.

“… I’m sorry you had to see me like this Azriel…” you croaked out, a broken and self-deprecating chuckle escaping your chapped lips.

You were found in such a compromising position that you felt the trickle of humiliation bubbled in your throat. You didn’t know whether to cry or laugh anymore — it didn’t matter anymore.

You had become so broken… so tired, that nothing made sense anymore. You had no idea why you were still on the ground like this, you had no idea why you were still in so much pain, why you still felt like you couldn’t breathe — those damned flowers that filled your lungs depriving you of the luxury of breathing. You didn’t know why you even felt embarrassed anymore… Mor, Feyre, and Rhysand had seen you in similar states — where your illness takes you. And so why would you be humiliated if Azriel sees you?

It didn’t matter anymore.

You didn’t care anymore.

Another mixture of a sob and chuckle escaped your lips as you tried to push your body to a sitting position, only for your arms to give up halfway, your form about to crumble onto the floor. Gentle hands caught your body, your cheek pressed against leathers as your body slumped against Azriel’s.

Your body pinched with pain, a grunt escaping your lips as bright hot flashes of pain burst behind your eyes. Oh, how your body ached — whether it be from being in one position for far too long, or just the echo of pain from your illness, from the unfulfilled mating bond gnawing throughout your body — you couldn’t tell anymore.

You couldn’t care anymore.

Those gentle hands, ones you could feel callouses and scars against your own, gently helped you into a proper sitting position — moving your body to sit on your bottom, your back pressed against the railing. You felt those tendrils of shadow dance against your skin, especially where Azriel’s hands lay — as if the contact between you made them swirl excitedly.

Your mind couldn’t dwell on such a thought, as another shock of pain coursing through your body, a whimper escaping your lips as your back stiffened. You felt that bellow of pain rising in your lungs, the inevitable feeling of nausea, and the taste of flowers building in the back of your throat.

You couldn’t understand why the pain and your illness hadn’t subsided — Lucien was long gone, happily celebrating with his new wife, leaving you behind.

Was it because you were still thinking about it? Was it because his scent was still lingering around you? It was hard to tell — but all you wanted was for it to stop.

Whorls of shadow slithered up your arms and shoulders, frantic in their movements, as if distressed by your pain. They slithered over your eyes, the cool feeling calming the raging ache and pound of the pain that flooded your system. Some others curled around your neck, while others remained swirling up your arms and legs, attempting to distract you.

It worked… slowly, but the pain was still there.

But when those scared hands came up to cup your cheek, the pain melted away and your body slumped against those railings, feeling his other hand gently wrap around your back, pressing against the middle of your back — as if to catch you from completely passing out.

“…Az…” you whispered his name, one that was full of relief and comfort.

There should be millions of things that raced through your head — why did your pain stop, with Azriel’s touch? Why was he so worried about your condition? Why were his shadows so attached to you?

But all you could think about was how the pain… stopped.

Your body ceased and relaxed, your lungs allowing you to breathe, gaining your consciousness back.

Eyes fluttered open, blinking away the dark spots at the corners as you stared up into hazel eyes — ones that were filled with worry, as they stared back at yours.

“…I’m fine…” you slowly comforted him, reaching up with shaking hands as your head lulled back, feeling his fingers slip around your cheek to the back of your neck, holding you gently in his grasp. You pressed your palm against his cheek, feeling his skin cool against your touch.

“…I’ll be fine…” you muttered, the same three words repeating themselves over and over again as if a mantra that you had trained yourself to tell people. You felt darkness creep at the corner of your eyes — and you were unsure if it was his shadows or your subconscious finally giving out on you.

But it didn’t matter, as you felt your body pass out in Azriel’s arms, his voice calling out to you.

“(Y/N)!”

He brought you close, shifting his body weight so he could pull you onto his lap, your body across his own, hazel eyes assessing you. He watched as your breaths evened out — not the staggard, painful gasps you were in moments earlier — but one of calm and serenity. His shadows glided over your skin, assessing you as well, as if they needed confirmation that you were anything but hurt.

Safe, she’s safe, just passed out.

She was in so much pain… so sad, so broken.

Her illness is bad… so bad.

They all repeated, crying out and wailing at how distraught you were not too long ago.

He stared at your face, calloused hands gently shifting your locks away from your face so he could gaze at your features.

Azriel could tell that your sickly complexion had worsened over the past few years. Whatever illness that has taken you, had taken away your radiance, youthfulness, and innocence. And what it had left behind was a shell of your former self — you didn’t smile to your eyes anymore, didn’t laugh with your whole heart… didn’t wear your heart on your sleeve.

You placed walls around your heart — both physical and mental. You never left your room, aside from the occasional family dinner that his High lady had all but begged you to come to. Or when his High Lord had brought you out during Starfall, insisting that you would feel better after the festivities. Or when Mor practically dragged you out of your room, hoping to help her find a good Winter Solstice gift for the family.

Other than when those three pulled you out, you had remained in your room — alone.

He didn’t know anything about your illness. It had remained a secret between those three — not even Cassian or the Archeron sisters knew what illness plagued your mind, soul, and heart. When he had asked his High Lord once, Azriel watched those violet hues darken — a protective nature radiated from Rhysand at the question about your illness.

“You will not ask about her illness ever again… All you have to know is that (Y/N) is unwell… We are doing our best to care for her.”

Was the answer that Azriel got from the High Lord. Even his High Lady shook her head lightly, begging him to think nothing of it.

He couldn’t understand why they had to protect the truth from him, he was worried for your health, for your safety. He watched day in, and day out how this unknown illness had taken away your beauty — both inside and out. He watched as your ethereal features dull, how your eyes tend to look so far away that Azriel was afraid you’d never return to the present. How you’d look at him and give him that small simper of a smile, one that didn’t shine with happiness.

Azriel watched as you lost yourself in your pain, your anguish.

“Oh (Y/N)… what kind of illness has taken you so deep in the darkness that all you know is pain?” he couldn’t help but whisper, gently caressing your cheek.

“—- A kind of illness that connects two souls in a mating bond but never to have that bond be reciprocated back…”

His shadows fled from your body, slithering away into the shadows, as his back stiffened slightly as he snapped his head over his shoulder to the threshold of the balcony entrance — Feyre.

Hazel hues looked at his High Lady, as those sapphire eyes stared at him with a delicate raise of her brow. Azriel watched those all-knowing eyes shifting from him to the female in his arms, watching them soften — worry and sadness filling those sapphire pools.

“Did she hurt herself when she passed out?”

His mouth felt dry and all he could do was shake his head. Azriel swallowed the lump in his throat, attempting to regain his voice again, “—- I was able to catch her before she fell…”

Feyre’s gaze shifted back to him, “…Why were you here, Azriel? We had specifically stated no one was allowed here…”

He felt his grip on your body tighten slightly, his shadows slithering back out towards their master, wrapping themselves up your legs and arms in a soothing fashion.

“…I was not the one who broke that rule, Feyre,” he stated, keeping his voice as even as possible, even though he felt anger bubble in his chest, “Both Lucien and Elain had entered this room before I did. They had done something before I had come in… When I did, (Y/N) was already hunched over in pain.

“I couldn’t just leave her here to deal with it herself… Am I right?”

The question hung in the air for a moment, hazel eyes staring into his High Lady’s as he watched her contemplate, her head eventually shaking — a sigh of resignation escaping her lips. Feyre glanced back down at your form before she gestured with her hand for Azriel to stand up, “…Bring her back inside, she will get a fever if she stays out there for too long.”

With such a command, Azriel heaved himself onto his feet, carrying you bridal-style back inside the warmed room. His shadow slithered from his feet and locked the door behind him. They glided back across marble floors and up the bed as Azriel laid you down. Both he and Feyre watched as they wrapped themselves around you, Azriel hearing them echo softly on their wishes for you to get better, to wake up from your slumber.

“… She has a disease that kills her from the inside…”

Hazel eyes snapped up to his High Lady, eyes wide as he watched her sit at the edge of the bed, reaching over to hold your hand.

The confession was quiet but still so deafening that he felt the wind knocked from his lungs.

(Y/N)… is dying…??

Azriel looked at Feyre, hoping for her to elaborate more, trying to catch her eye. He watched as a tiny simper of a smile tugged on her lips, her gaze shifting from you to him. He could tell that she was a breath hesitant to tell your story — especially since you were sound asleep, healing from your relapse.

But all he wanted was to help — and Feyre saw that.

Another sigh escaped his High Lady’s lips before she gently caressed your hand, her sapphire hues dimming as she told your story.

“Do you remember the day, when my sisters were doused into the Cauldron? When Lucien and Elain were made into Cauldron-bound mates?”

How could Azriel forget?

That day had been emotionally and physically taxing to everyone — they weren’t able to break the Cauldron from the clutches of Hybern and the Archeron sisters were forcibly drowned in the Cauldron, taking them away from the mortal life and forced into living as immortal fae.

But he also remembered how broken (Y/N)… And no one knew why.

He didn’t know what was going on, even his shadows barely whispered what happened behind the doors of your room. Azriel wanted to help. But how could he? When he barely knew what was going on with you. His High Lord and Lady keeping everything about you a mystery.

Cobalt blue hues stared into sapphire ones as Feyre continued her monologue.

“…We didn’t know until she told us. She had kept it to herself for months until I noticed it,” Feyre whispered, her voice shaking as hands gently gripped your own, “The cauldron blessed Lucien with two mating bonds—-”

Azriel’s eyes widened.

Two mating bonds? For the Vanserra son?

“—-But Lucien only felt the one with Elain… (Y/N)… Has suffered for months from an unfulfilled mating bond. Me and Rhysand had asked everyone in secret — Helion, even Thesan and Kallias, if they knew anything of her illness… And we only found one line:

“A devastating illness that, if a mating bond is not found nor completed, will force flowers to grow inside the person’s body, slowly suffocating them from the inside. They are practically dying without your mate’s love.”

Azriel’s head spun as he tried to piece together what his High Lady had told him.

You were in a mating bond… with Lucien Vanserra, but he had only felt the golden bond with the middle Archeron sister. And because of the mating bond you had with Lucien, an uncomplete mating bond at that, you had been suffering — for months — from a rare disease… that is slowly killing you from the inside.

Azriel felt his fingers dig into the mattress, curling around the soft comforter.

“…And no one bothered to tell that bastard about his bond with her?”

Teary sapphire hues looked at his own and his High Lady shook her head.

“—- She wished for us not to tell him. She said, in her own words—-

“There is no point in telling him. He does not feel it anyway… He is in love with her, his eyes have never left hers.”

The Shadowsinger felt a pang in his chest, the whispered resignation. The fact that you had given up already without even trying.

All Azriel wanted to do was find the Vanserra son and yell at him for not noticing— your pain, the bond… for not noticing you out of all people.

And how dumb the Vanserra son was for not doing so.

Azriel had always noticed you. He had always watched you as you stood at his High Lady’s side, as her best friend and confidant.

How could he not notice you?

“… And you didn’t want to tell your family about her condition because—-”

“—-It was her choice to make. Everything was her choice. We tried Azriel. Myself, Rhysand, and Mor had tried for years to get her to open up, to tell everyone about her deathly illness. But she wanted to remain in silence… to suffer it alone. And we followed her wishes. You cannot lecture me on what I did not do, Azriel… I wanted to help her, I have been trying to help her. But her choices were her’s alone… And all I could do, as her friend and confidant, was to be there for her… To help her with the pain.”

Teeth bit into lower lip as eyes averted Feyre’s and returned to yours. Azriel watched as your chest rose with every breath you took; on how your complexion got better — how your cheeks dusted with a light pink color, blood returning into them; and how your expression was one of tranquil.

Azriel couldn’t bear to see your face contort into something so pained — to one that he had seen earlier. His heart hurt at the sight of you, hunched over in so much pain. If he had to see it again —-

He couldn’t handle it.

“… What can we do?”

From the corner of his eye, he watched as Feyre shook her head.

“… We’ve tried everything. No magic or potion could help her, nothing to stop the illness from killing her. It’s the damned mating bond that is doing this to her.”

“—- What if she—-”

“If you suggest breaking the mating bond, Azriel, then I can assure you we suggested that. Helion advised us not to do so… If she breaks it, she will die right there and then. It has such a strong grip on her soul, that without it, she is nothing…”

Azriel cursed under his breath.

He didn’t like it.

He didn’t like the fact that they were all going to sit around and do nothing, while this damned curse took your life. He wasn’t someone to be so passive — especially when someone’s life was slowly being taken away from them.

Eyes drifted to his shadows, ones that were gently caressing your arms and moving your hair away from your face. He heard their whispers, begging their master to help you — to save you from your pain, anguish… and loneliness.

His brows furrowed — why were his shadows so attached to you? There were moments in the past few years when his shadows and you interacted. Small moments when they would slide away from him, without him knowing, and they’d be wrapped around your leg or arm, laughter tugging from your lips.

Azriel would apologize profusely for those moments, and you would give him a bright smile, shaking your head.

“I like them… They’re not scary at all, they’re sweet..”

It had taken him aback multiple times — people were usually afraid of his shadows, especially those who were unfamiliar with them. And yet, you were unfrighten by the tendrils of darkness.

Every time you and Azriel were in a room, he watched as his shadows zipped through the room to wrap around your legs, earning a laugh from you. He’d look on with something pulling at his chest before it would go away when he summoned his shadows back.

The two of you would make eye contact, you smiled at him before turning away to do whatever you were doing.

As time went on, those moments would become smaller — especially after the Cauldron incident.

And now Azriel knew why.

With one last look towards you and his shadows, Azriel had a set determination in his cobalt hues.

A groan escaped your lips, eyes fluttering open, blinking away the darkness from your vision before you stared up at the ceiling of your room. You didn’t even know what to feel at that moment.

Your mind was just — empty.

You didn’t know whether to be sad or to cry.

Or to be angry at the Mother.

But you didn’t have any energy to do so.

Your illness to every ounce of your being.

And besides, there was no reason to do any of that… You were far too used to your illness taking over you.

“…(Y/N)…”

Your head snapped towards your left, not even realizing someone was in your room. Your hues locked onto cobalt ones.

“…Azriel…” you croaked out, your voice dry.

You attempted to sit up, your body screaming at you from your movement. All you wanted to do was flop back down, to let your bed take you; but when you felt a dip in the bed and gentle hands wrapped around your shoulders, helping you into a sitting position, your head looked up to watch Azriel’s features contort into concentration.

And you couldn’t help but let out a breathless chuckle.

“…I’m guessing Feyre told you…?” you asked him, your breath nothing but a whisper.

You felt his hand stiffen on your shoulder, and you watched as his shadows leave his side, whirling around in slight panic before zipping back onto your side, as if trying to apologize. A small smile tugged on your features as you glanced up at the Shadowsinger, who looked at you with a worried gaze.

“Don't look like that, Az…” you murmured, resting against the headboard with a sigh, eyes fluttering closed, “Everyone is bound to know… I'm not mad at you anyway…”

His hand slipped away from your shoulders, but you could still feel his presence next to you. You felt those tendrils of shadow slither up your arms and legs, gently caressing your skin.

“—- Are you okay…?”

The question hung in the air momentarily, as you tried to figure out what to say for such a heavy question. You debated — whether to tell your usual answer: I’m fine….

Or to tell the truth.

“—-No, I'm not okay…”

The impact of your answer weighs heavily in your chest, the ache of the bond and your heart resonating through your mind and body.

How long has it been since you accepted that you were not okay? How long has it been since the curse-of-a-bond that you've voiced that you were not okay?

Tears lined your eyes and you tried to blink them away. You couldn't cry, not when Azriel was in your room. You could cry in private — like you've always done.

When a tear slipped down your cheek, you reached up to wipe it away but a scarred hand cupped your cheek to wipe it away.

Your eyes locked onto cobalt ones, your breath held in your chest.

“…It's okay, (Y/N)… You can cry with me.”

The dam burst and a sob escaped your lips, your hands coming up to press against your eyelids as you cried.

Cried about the pain.

Cried about your illness.

Cried about the bond.

Cried about everything.

You felt the dip of the bed again, and gentle and warm arms enveloping you in an embrace and all you could do was lean over, resting your head on Azriel’s shoulder as you sobbed for the rest of the night.

“I don't feel like it Az…” you muttered, fingers gripping the skirt of your dress as you stood at the threshold of the gardens.

Eyes glanced up at the bright afternoon skies before they shifted to the fae standing before you, his hand stretched out for the taking.

It had been a few months since Lucien and Elain’s wedding. A few months after Azriel had found you bent over in pain from your cursed illness.

And a few months after Azriel had seemed to weave his way into your life.

Every day, since that day, Azriel had been visiting you in your room — whether to bring your meals, sit in each other’s presence, or, much like today, coax you out of your room.

You had opted to lock yourself in your room since the reception, not wanting to run into the newlywed couple who had decided to stay at the River House for now. You had desperately wished to remain wrapped in your bubble — you didn’t want to hurt anymore.

But it seemed that Azriel wouldn’t let you do that to yourself.

“…You need fresh air, (Y/N)…” he sighed, “You know—-”

“—-I can’t be holed up in my room forever… I know…” you finished the sentence for him, and you watched as a tiny smile tugged on his ethereal features before he schooled into a stern one, moving his hand slightly to indicate for you to take it.

Teeth bit into your lower lip, looking up at him through your lashes, hoping to get away from your daily dose of sunshine, but the look on Azriel’s face said everything — you were not going to get away so easily.

With a resigned sigh you reached over and slipped your hand in his and a soft smile tugged on his lips as he gently tugged you past the threshold of the large doors to the garden, pulling you close to him as he tucked your hand into the crook of his arm, like the gentleman he was. You felt his shadows slip over your shoulders, acting like a light cooling shawl in the middle of the afternoon. A soft chuckle escaped your lips feeling them curl around your form, the tendrils tickling your skin.

You were so preoccupied that you didn’t notice the soft look in Azriel’s features as he watched you with his shadows.

Another sigh escaped your lips, one of contentment as your eyes fluttered close, allowing the wind and fresh air to take over you, allowing Azriel to lead you through the gardens. You had felt so comfortable being around Azriel the past few months. It felt so natural to grow closer to him — especially since his shadows always seek you out. Your illness seemed to minimize as the time you spent with him grew — that golden bond in your chest slumbering peacefully inside of you.

As if the bond knew that Azriel was someone that you could be safe with — someone you were meant to be around.

And that confused you so much.

You had thought that the bond would sing when you were near your mate — you had hoped that it would do so when you were around Lucien; however, pain and that damned illness was the only thing that came from your wish of being mated to Lucien.

And yet, being with Azriel was much the opposite.

You were happy.

You were content.

You were safe.

You felt him pause mid-step and you tilted your head, eyes opening to look at him. Your eyes locked with his own as he surveyed you momentarily, “…I called your name a few times, (Y/N)… Are you okay?”

A smile tugged on your features and you nodded, “I’m fine… Just content right now…” You slipped your hand from the crook of his elbow and slowly moved to the nearby garden bench. Sitting down with a sigh, you leaned back, eyes staring at the bright blue skies. The sun was high in the sky and she was about to cover her eyes from the bright light when Azriel hovered over you from behind the bench, successfully protecting you.

“Thank you Az…” you hummed out and all the Shadowsinger did was give a hum.

The two of you sat in peaceful silence, allowing the fresh air to consume you. You can’t help but always be glad that Azriel makes you go outside, to bask in the sun and wind.

“It seems that you are having fewer flare-ups of your illness…” his voice reached your ears.

A hum escaped your throat, nodding as your eyes fluttered close, “I think… it’s because I haven’t been near him as much anymore…”

“—- That might be true… But what if it’s a whole different reason…?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, eyes blinking open to look up at him; who, in turn, was looking at you intently with those cobalt hues. The silence between you, now, was suffocating. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you shifted, standing on your feet as you turned to face him.

“…What are you trying to say, Az…?” you felt your voice was shaking, your whole body was.

Azriel stepped around the bench to face you properly, his body close to yours as he looked down at you.

“What if I was your mate?”

It was as if your whole world stopped right in front of your eyes — a ringing echoed in your ears and it seemed that the world became silent. You faltered, stepping back as Azriel reached to steady you on your feet, his hand grasping your forearm.

“—…What—- What do you mean by that?”

Cobalt hues looked at you with sadness and pity, and most of a twinkle of hope resided in the depths of those pools.

“…I talked with Helion recently,” he breathed out, trying to formulate words to explain his revelation, “—-And he said that mating bonds are not all the same. Some bonds radiate and sing, so to speak, when they’re near their mates. Some bonds can be a physical connection, allowing them to tug and pull at the string. Others — and Helion thinks this is what you, we, have — enable them to feel comfortable with their mate.

“I talked it over with Feyre and Rhysand…” he gently held your hand in his, those cobalt hues looking down at him as his thumb gently caressed your knuckles before they locked onto yours. You felt your breath get caught in your throat, and you waited for him to continue, “We believe you were hurting because you thought Lucien was your mate. You felt it with your whole being, and your bond did not like that — that is where your illness came from—-”

Your mind raced. The ringing in your ears started to grow and you could barely listen to the other words that Azriel was telling you.

Your mate wasn’t Lucien.

All these years, your pain was because your golden string wasn’t tied to Lucien — but Azriel instead.

Azriel noticed your eyes were out-of-focus, and he gently cupped your cheek, watching them focus up at him.

“—… Have you noticed how my shadows adore you?”

The question brought you back, feeling those tendrils of shadow gently caress your skin, soothing the anxiety that was slowly building in your chest.

“—- They knew, (Y/N)…” he whispered, lifting your intertwined hands to press a kiss on your knuckles, “They knew we were mates… even before I knew. I’m yours. I’ve always been yours… I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I never realized… But I’ve always noticed you, I’ve noticed your pain, I’ve noticed your happiness. When your eyes with wrinkle with happiness when you laugh, or when you’d hide in your room when you’re suffering.”

Cobalt hues stared into yours, gently squeezing your hands. Your breath picked up, waiting for your illness to burst — something to wake you up from this wonderful dream. Your mind couldn’t keep up.

That all this time.

You had a mate.

“…How long have you’ve known…?” you whispered, fear in your voice.

Were you not good enough before?

Why did Azriel not tell you?

Why did he let you suffer that long with your illness?

“—-Not that long…” he said, voice desperate to have you understand, seeing your mind turn with negative thoughts, “I would have never let you suffer this long, (Y/N). After the wedding…”

You felt yourself stiffen at the memory, the pain echoed through your body.

“I couldn’t—-I couldn’t let you be in pain again…” he whispered, gently pulling you closer to him, his forehead pressing against yours. You felt his breath against your face, warm and comforting.

The shadows that were resting against your skin, swirling excitedly at the contact between the two of you. A light giggle escaped your lips at the movement, eyes moving back up to look up at Azriel, whose gaze was soft and loving.

It threw you off for a breath.

You never realized on how Azriel looked at you. You never noticed him.

But it seemed he had noticed you.

Always.

“I went looked and looked — looked for something to help you with your pain. And when Helion suggested the comfort mate bond… I hoped that was my answer. My shadows loved you, my eyes are always looking for you… Give me a chance, (Y/N)… Let me show you that I have and always will be yours…”

“You look so much better, (Y/N)…”

You looked over your shoulder after smoothing out your Starfall dress and saw Feyre standing at the threshold of your bedroom. That gentle smile on her features told you everything that she was thinking — that she was happy, that you were finally happy.

Cheeks dusted pink as a shy smile tugged on your lips, “—-I feel better, you know?”

And you were better. You started to regain color in your complexion, you started to eat better and you were often out of your room.

The pain that you were so used to, was nothing but a distant memory of the past.

And you wouldn’t exchange this peacefulness for that.

Feyre stepped into the room, gracefully moving so she stood next to you, in front of the large mirror you were standing in front of. Her sapphire eyes looked over your form, watching how Azriel’s shadows curl around your shoulders, whisps of shadow acting like a shawl that kept you protected.

“He’s protective over you isn’t he…” she mused, amusement in her tone.

You chuckled and swirled a finger around one of the shadows that hovered over your shoulder, “—-He is quite overprotective, but so are his shadows. They haven’t left my side since Azriel started to court me…”

It was true. Ever since you agreed in giving Azriel a chance, all those months ago, his shadows had never left your side. Whenever Azriel was not around (which was rare), his shadows would stick by your side, curl around your arms and legs, as if tattoos that were imbedded into your skin.

Your eyes locked with Feyre and both of you let out a laugh, the melody echoing in your room and you could feel the shadows swirl against your skin, excited of the sound.

“Are you happy, (Y/N)?”

The question was heavy — much heavier than you had expected it to be. It was simple words, and yet, it made your chest tight. You looked at your High Lady for a moment, trying to formulate words in your mind on how you felt.

You were happy.

You were content.

And most and foremost, you were absolutely in love.

Azriel made you feel as if the whole world was in your hands. He courted you slowly but surely, made you smile and laugh. He would bring you treats from your favorite bakeries and try them alongside you, bring you to Valeris and allow you to shop to your hearts content. Azriel would be content in bringing you to the gardens where the two of you would lay on a picnic blanket and bask in each other's presence with a book in your hands. He would carry you up to the skies at night, to see if you could reach the stars above as you had told him you were in love with Valeris' skies.

He made you forget any of the pain associated with falling in love. You were on cloud nine every time you were with him.

You have Feyre a smile, one that made the stars twinkle in your eyes, “I am very happy… He makes me very happy…”

Feyre let out a content sigh before she intertwined your arms together, giving you a smile, “Well come on then… We can’t keep him waiting.”

You chuckled and allowed your High Lady to lead you out of your room and down the grand staircase of the River House. There at the bottom of the staircase, you saw your High Lord dressed in all regality. But he wasn’t the one you felt your heart thump for; next to him, Azriel stood in his suit – the color a darker shade than your own. The two of them stood conversing to one another, until Feyre decided to clear her throat, causing them to turn their heads your direction.

You watched as cobalt hues widen when they looked at you, his body stiffening before relaxing. The shadows that clung to your skin spiraled around your arms and legs, showing their excitement despite the stoic nature of your mate.

Feyre led you down the staircase, until only one step was in between you and Azriel. From the corner of your eyes, you watched a please smirk tug on your High Lady’s lips as she was in her mate’s arms, Rhysand tugging her close to her side.

“We’ll leave you two alone. Do enjoy Starfall…” Rhysand commented, mirth and laughter echoing behind the two of them as they left to join the festivities on the balcony.

Cheeks tinged with a dark pink as your fingers crinkled the skirts of your dress, only to have Azriel reach and grasp your hand within his own. He gently tugged you close, allowing you to step down that final stair until you right by his side. Bringing your hand up to his lips, he pressed a kiss on your knuckles, a simper of a smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

“You look absolutely stunning…” he muttered against your lips, before placing your hand at the crook of his elbow, leading you across the hall.

You watched as he leads you away from the crowded balconies, to the other side of the River House where there was little people around. Both of you stepped onto the empty balcony, the large doors closing behind you.

You were in your own little bubble, your own little world. And all you could focus on was the man that made your heart beat wildly against your chest.

“You look handsome as well, Azriel…” you complimented him and the Shadowsinger just chuckled, pressing you against his side.

“Not as stunning as you. You’re more stunning than the stars that would streak against the night sky…”

You felt your eyes roll, and you playfully shoved Azriel to the side, causing another wave of laughter from the fae. His arm wrapped around your waist again, only to maneuver you so you were looking up at him. Those cobalt hues stared down into your own and your heart thumped harder against your chest.

“Have I proven to you that I’m yours?” he whispered, pressing his forehead against your own.

A light giggle escaped your lips, your hands sliding up his arms so you can gently cup his cheeks and all Azriel did was snuggle his face against your palm, eyes closing to feel you close to him. Your eyes fluttered close, focusing on his breathing as you reached deep within you to feel that golden string – it was calm and glowing inside of you. And you only noticed it when you were with the fae in front of you. You realized, when you were around Lucien or even just thought about him, all you could think about — despite the love you felt for him — was pain, and the burn of the bond in your chest. But with Azriel, you were calm — and happy.

Eyes fluttered open and you noticed him looking at you with so much anticipation, you smiled softly up at him.

“Yes, you’ve proven that you’re mine… But also Azriel…” You leaned up and pressed a chase kiss on his lips, “I’m yours as well…”

The brightest smile tugged on his face as he leaned down to capture your lips in a breathtaking kiss as the skies above the two of you streaked with multicolored stars. The Mother above rejoicing.

👑 General Tag List: @prythianpages . @strangelygreat . @honeybeeboobaa

#acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fic #acotar angst #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel fluff #( .one shot : i'm yours )

549 notes · View notes

dent-de-leon · 10 months ago

Text

Thinking about how Trent ran into the Nein so early in the campaign and took a particular interest in Yasha after reading her mind.

How it’s only by sheer luck he didn’t meet Mollymauk instead. How it would be so easy to look into his lost memories and see that this colorful, happy little tiefling was the one who used to bring back powerful arcane relics for Vess—

Could you imagine the look on Caleb's face if he saw Trent refer to Molly as one of Vess' underlings? Someone foolish enough to cross a member of the Cerberus Assembly--someone who should still be dead and buried--

Anyway, what if animated Nein hinted at Molly's past being tied up in the Cerberus Assembly somehow, if we get just a glimpse of that--

#MOLLYMAUK #WAS LIKE #THIS CLOSE TO RUNNING INTO SOMEONE IN THE CERBERUS ASSEMBLY #and if ludinus had seen lucien running jobs for vess before #I think its a possibility trent would have at least heard stories from vess about lucien #or seen him around the solstryce academy like ludinus #anyway even though im grateful molly himself never had to deal with the cerberus assembly (thank you lucien and caleb)#I just think it would be so funny if vess saw Lucien alive and well and running around with Trent's escaped volstrucker #and?? wearing a fun little costume and performing in the circus??#I think it would baffle her beyond belief and also scare the shit out of her to see Lucien very much Not Dead and still #branded with the eyes #anyway it wont happen but like #picturing the big harvest festival and when trent shows up #vess is there too #and she sees molly out of the corner of her eye and she just looks LIVID or TERRIFIED--

5 notes · View notes

sarawritestories · 10 months ago

Text

Unwavering Presence Chapter 1

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

A/N: Hi, I am so excited to share this first part with you! I wanted to point out that I am following major plot points in the books, however, this is in the Reader's perspective so some of the interactions may not line up with the text exactly but the major plot points will be there.

Content warnings: Nightmares, Grief, mentions of death, mentions of trauma,

Summary: Y/N accompanies her twin sister to the Nigh Court after Rhysand crashed Feyre's wedding. Where the reader finds herself lost in the memories of under the mountain and finds herself in the company of a Hazel eyed stranger

Word Count: 3.1k

tags: @hellodarling1357

If you want to be added to the tag list for this series let me know!

“Hello, Feyre, Darling.”

My head whipped toward the end of the aisle; the High Lord of the Night Court was flicking an invisible piece of lint from his dark lined suit. My gaze moved to my sister who before his arrival, had looked like she was ready to bolt from Tamlin. Lucien’s casually stepped closer Feyre as the Violet Eyes meet my own, “Y/N.” His gaze lingered on my long sleeve pink tulle gown, “You look healthy.”

I straightened my posture and tried to hold the arrogant air that would make Nesta proud, “Rhysand,” His gaze lingered on my long sleeve pink tulle gown I responded, trying to move toward my sister, a firm hand keeps me in place causing me to still completely.

Tamlin’s voice roared in my ear, “What the fuck do you want, Rhysand?” The High Lord of the Spring gripped my arm too tightly and I clenched my jaw to prevent a wince.

Rhysand did not miss the little action and tucks his hand in his pockets, “I am here to collect Feyre and Y/N. Unless Feyre Darling wants to go back on her end on the bargain.

I grimace as the memory of Feyre making that bargain:

I couldn’t keep my body from trembling, I knew I had a fever and Feyre was trying to bring my temperature down by putting a soaked piece of her shirt and pressing it on her forehead. Amarantha had split up the challenges between the two of us. Taking the first challenge, The Middengard Wyrm was more challenging than I had originally anticipated. When we were living in the human lands, I would occasionally go out hunting with her and she would teach me a few things and those skills came in handy when going up against the Wyrm and was able to slay the beast.

It wasn’t until we were back in our cell that I was aware that I had the gaping wound. It only took a few days for the infection to seep into the wound and my fever spiking. “You must hang on just a little bit, Lucien will come and help. You just have to hold it out for a little bit longer.”

Steps could be heard down the hall from our cell and the grating of our cell door creaked open and Rhysand stepped in. Feyre covered me with her small frame, “What do you want?”

The Violet eyed male simply ignored her question and made is way to my side. I was to weak to cower away his presence alone was intimidating. He reached out his hand about to touch my wound when it was whacked away by Feyre, “Do not touch her,” she said through gritted teeth. The High Lord gave my twin a playful smirk in response.

A groan of pain escaped my lips as a violent tremor tore through my body both Rhysand and Feyre gazes meet mine, “I’m only here to help.” Rhysand says.

“We don’t need your help.” Feyre spat, tucking me closer to my chest always the protector.

Rhysand’s face began to blur in and out of focus but in a brief moment of clarity I saw his face hold a cool indifference as he met my stare. “Would your sister agree with you, Feyre?” In a fever haze it sounded as though he said her name like a prayer. “She will die if you don’t act quickly. Make a bargain with me and she will be safe.”

Feyre took her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes met mine, I gave her what I hoped was a smile but was probably more of a grimace as a coughing fit erupted from chest. Feyre’s grip on me tightened as tears welled in her eyes. She looked up at Rhysand, “We were told not to make bargains with fae.”

I closed my eyes listening to his voice, “And yet you still made one with Amarantha. If it wasn’t clear she’s dying.”

Feyre shook her head, “Lucien will be here, and he can help us, I trust Tamlin.”

Rhysand sighed and I opened my eyes, my lids feeling heavy, and I used most of my energy to keep them on the former High Lord. “Lucien could get here tomorrow, or five days from now,

I gripped my sister’s hand and gave it a weak squeeze, “Feyre,” My voice cracked my throat and my mouth extremely dry from dehydration. “I trust him.” My gaze met Rhysand’s and I could have sworn there was a flicker of stars in his gaze I reached out my hand to him, he quirked his brow, but my hand met with Calloused ones. “I trust you,” A fit of coughing took over and there was a brief squeeze of my hand from his almost comforting.

“What do you want?” Panic laced Feyre’s voice as my eyes began to flutter shut, loosening my grip on the High Lord’s hand. Rhy’s grips may have tightened but my mind was in a haze.

“I heal her, and you come and spend two weeks in the Night Court with me.”

“No,” Feyre said her voice strained. “I won’t do it.”

My eyes creak open slightly, as the feeling of soothing circles are brushed against my wrist. “Well, that’s a shame,” Rhysand released the grip on my wrist and rose.

Feyre shrieked and amplified my already pulsing headache. “No wait!” Feyre’s eyes meet my gaze tears are brimming, “Five days. I will give you five days, but my sister has to be with me.”

Rhysand scoffs, “Bargaining?” There was a pause, “10 days.”

Feyre countered, “one week.”

Rhysand hummed for a moment, “One week it is. You have a bargain.”

There was a flash and I slipped unconscious.

I met the stare of the High Lord of the Night Court, and he looked as though he was recalling that memory as well. As Tamlin snarled, “You cannot take them,” His grip on me tightening to the point of eliciting a small whimper that caused Lucien’s head whipping over to mine. A scolding look to his friend caused Tamlin to release me as I moved swiftly to my sister as I lace my fingers with hers.

“You want to wage a war on interfering with a bargain that Feyre willingly agreed to than by all means Tamlin be my guest.” He approached my twin and I and held out both of his hands with the palm. “Ladies, if you don’t mind.”

Feyre looked at me, fear extended to her features I gave her hand a comforting squeeze and a nod of my head that seemed to put her at ease. She reached out her free hand and I followed suit. Rhysand grips our hands and before Tamlin can make a beeline toward us, we were consumed by darkness and landed on a balcony and Rhysand ushered us inside to a large dining room area with dark red and black décor.

I looked back at the balcony ignoring Feyre’s bantering with the High Lord. Where we were, was on the side of the mountain and the scenery was breathtaking, the sun glinting off the snow on the mountain. The sun is beginning to set in the sky turning to hues of pink and purples painting the sky. I wish Feyre would take in the scene in the hopes that she would find inspiration to paint again.

Rhysand yelp of pain pulled me from the beautiful seen to see that he was rubbing the back of his head. Feyre has her second slipper in her hand, “Don’t you-“Rhysand growled as she threw the second slipper at him and the High Lord catches the slipper and smirks.

Feyre just scoffs, “Just take us to our room.” Tapping her now foot impatiently the way she crossed her arms I could have almost mistaken her for our eldest sister.

Rhysand’s lips formed a tight line. Crossing his arms in answer to hers, and I had to cough to cover up my laugh. The High Lord’s eyes twinkled with amusement and in a blink, it was back to normal, and he was scowling at my sister. “Follow me.”

Rhysand walked away not waiting to see if we were following him, I began to follow him and a small hand gripped mine. I paused and looked at Feyre her eyes were sunken, and her face had thinned since we came out of Under the Mountain, “I don’t like this.” Feyre whispered, “When we get home, I’m going to see if Tamlin can break the bargain.

I gave her a comforting squeeze giving her a warm smile fighting the disgust at her calling the Spring Court home. “Keep an open mind, Fey.” You paused, “He did save my life,” I looped my arm into hers, “Come on.” I dragged my sister into the hall and rushed to catch up to the High Lord who was leaning against a set of double doors.

“I figured the two of you would want to share a room.” Rhysand smiled and pushed off the door, “Does that work for you?”

I was shocked as I thought back to when we were taken to the manor in the spring court.

Feyre and I had our hands intertwined, the only thing preventing them from shaking, as we followed the High Lord of the Spring court through his manor. Tamlin, as we found out his name, was on our journey to the fae lands. The blonde fae male paused at one of the doors and opened them, “This is where room for either of you. Which one is up to you, of course.”

Feyre and I exchanged a look of pure panic, Feyre was the one to speak first, “Can’t we stay in the same room?”

Tamlin bristled, “You have spent the last few years in a room sharing a bed with your two other sisters and you still want to share a room?”

I glowered, “Well maybe, we’re in a strange place, with strangers and strange creatures, and maybe we seek comfort in each other’s company.”

Tamlin returned my glare and through gritted teeth, “You have two separate rooms, use them or don’t, I don’t care.” Tamlin walked past the two of us purposely bumping into my shoulder. “Dinner will be ready in a couple hours. Feel free to join.”

“Prick.” You muttered. As you and Feyre walked into one of the bedrooms.

“Y/N?” Feyre’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, bringing you back to the hall, Rhysand’s brows furrowed in what looked like concern. “Are you alright?”

I nod and give a smile, “I’m fine, are you okay with us staying together? I know that our ‘arrangement’ is different back in Spring.”

“You can call it home,” Feyre straightened, as if she realized who was standing and listening, “I’m fine with sharing a room.” She once again gripped my hand and dragged me to the room and slammed the door, not even muttering a goodnight to our host.

“My home is the cottage in the human lands, Feyre, considering,” I tuck my hair to reveal my round ear, “By their standards, I shouldn’t be here. The only reason I’m here and tolerated is because of you.” Feyre flinched at the confession. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Look, I don’t want to fight. You asked me to stay with you and I will, but please let me adjust at my own pace.”

Feyre nodded and, in a flash, she grabbed you and embraced you in a hug, “I love you, Y/N,” you wrap her arms around your sister and squeeze. “Thank you, for everything.”

“Of course,” you pull away and flick her nose, “Alright let’s get you out of this hideous dress.” She laughed and nodded. As if on que the doors of the wardrobe opened and there were two-night outfits. One was in a beautiful violet that looked too small for me and one in a ruby red. “Well, that’s convenient.” I mutter as I pull out the red shirt and pants, running the cool silk through my fingers. “I have to say,” Feyre blue eyes, met mine, “The Night Court has style.”

We changed into night outfits, and I grumbled over my exposed mid-drift and how they accentuated my curves but overall, they were comfortable. I took a glance at Feyre and my heart ached. I could see her ribs protruding, I knew she was having a hard time, but every time I would ask her about it, she would brush off my concern, tell me that others had it worse under the mountain. Tamlin could barely look at me most of the time, so I was never able to bring it up to her betrothed. Lucien made himself scarce ever since Ianthe came to stay on the property, so no one was there to help me help her. Feyre smiled at me, “Shall we get some rest? It’s been a long day.”

I nodded and we crawled into bed and cuddled close together and fell asleep.

Tears were falling down my cheeks as I watched Amarantha raise my sister’s body off the ground and throw her down like a rag doll. I was ready to run up to her, but Lucien pinned me to his chest concealing me from Amarantha’s sight. Feyre’s mouth moved and the rage on the red haired fae’s flared in her eyes. Amarantha smirked, “Well you figured it out, but you failed to be specific of when I free you.” Rhysand lunged at Amarantha and with a flick of a wrist he was flung against the wall.

Crack

The tether to my other half had snapped, and Lucien gripped me tighter as I screamed, my sobs uncontrollable. Lucien was whispering in my ear, but I couldn’t discern what he was saying, past my screams. I didn’t even notice how he stilled as the power shifted, and Tamlin unleashing his full power on Amarantha. “Feyre,” you whimpered as Lucien returns to consoling you as Amarantha was torn to shreds. Lucien let me go as I crawled to my sister; her limp body unresponsive. “Feyre, wake up, please wake up.” I sobbed leaning over body sobbing into her should, “Come back to me. Please I can’t do this without you.”

I jolted awake from the nightmare of a memory that plagued me every night these past three months. Sweat coated hair clung to my forehead as I turned to find my sister sleeping peacefully beside me her now pointed ears, proof that she was alive. It should have been me. I thought to myself. I shook the thought, knowing I had to be brave for her. Knowing she needed me to be strong enough to help her through this. I silently slid off the bed and snuck out of the room, knowing full well I would not be able to fall back asleep I figured I would explore our home for the next week.

My feet pad across the carpet and wander through the hall, as far as décor goes the halls are bare. Though the walls are dark the fae lights create a comforting ambiance. A door creaks open that catches my gaze, and I press myself against the wall hoping the shadows conceal me though no one ever came out. Deeming it safe to peel myself from the wall I walked toward the open door and my eyes widened. I stepped into the room and was mesmerized by the books lining the walls and the fireplace sending warmth down my spine. A window showcased the night sky, the room was breathtaking, and I began tracing the tomes with my fingers.

Nesta and Elain sometimes would pull me aside and teach me how to read when we had spare time. Though I could never read books at the same rate they do. Some words were still hard, and my understanding of the words sometimes went amiss so by the time we lost our fortune I had given up on it entirely. Though I always loved the idea of reading to get lost in a story and transported to far off places.

“Someone having a hard time sleeping?” The deep voice that could cause anyone’s toes to curl, caused me to jump and I spun to find the source of that voice. My eyes met Hazel ones and I came face to face with the most beautiful male I had ever encountered.

The male was tall my head barely met his chest, dark raven hair the same as Rhysand’s fell to his shoulders his face was one blessed by ancient gods his chiseled jaw line and sultry lips. He wore red jewels on his chest and atop his hands and I gaped as I noticed his wings were tucked tight to his body as he leaned against the door frame. His face showed concern. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” He spoke again. “Are you Feyre?”

I shook my head words lost on me, I shook my head and continued, “Afraid not, though I am her sister.” I picked up the book that was in my hands and put it back on the shelf, “I’m so sorry, I just couldn’t sleep and the door kind of opened on its own I was curious.”

The male raised his hand, “Rhys wants you both to feel comfortable while you’re here. You are more than welcome to be here.” He walks in deeper and faux whispers, “I technically shouldn’t be talking to you right now?”

You take a tentative step closer to him and faux whisper back “How come?”

He gives a wolfish grin, “He doesn’t want us to scare you away.”

I quirk a brow at him, since he made his presence known I’ve only felt this overwhelming comfort. “Are you someone I should be scared of?” I asked.

His hazel eyes glance at my night ware and it’s then that I notice that the color matches his rubies, interesting. His eyes linger on my exposed stomach that I wrap an arm around feigning a chill. His eyes meet mine noticing the shift and gives me a full smile showing his teeth, “Here? No. On the battlefield? Absolutely.”

I laugh, a sound I haven’t heard out of my mouth in a while. “I don’t think I’ll be on the battlefield anytime soon, so I’ll have to take your word for it.” You noticed how eyes are bright, “Well, it’s late and I don’t want to deter you from whatever it was you were doing.” I walk around him as he straightened, “It was nice meeting you.”

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He asked right as I reached the door. He turned to face me.

I shrug, “What keeps anyone from sleeping? Nightmares.” I give him a small nod, “Goodnight…”

“Cassian, my name is Cassian.”

“I’m Y/N. Sweet Dreams, Cassian.”

I leave and I could have sworn before I did, I heard a soft, “Sweet Dreams, Princess.” Before bolting back to my room to my twin.

Chapter 2

#cassian acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar #cassian x reader #rhysand x reader #cassian x fem!reader #feyre archeron #feyre x rhysand #cassian fanfic #cassian imagine #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #rhysand acotar

831 notes · View notes

prythianpages · 11 months ago

Text

I Put A Spell On You | Azriel

Azriel x Green Witch Reader | summary: Feyre invites you to Rita's and you drink more than you can handle. Good thing your loving mate is there to take care of you.

warning: implied smut in the beginning, drinking, some fluff

a/n: this is based off this request. Thank you so much for sending! Hope you like it! I tried to incorporate a little bit of everything ♥️ I feel like this can be read as a stand alone imagine.

“You’re staring.”

Your tone dances on the edge of light teasing as you meet Azriel’s gaze through your vanity mirror. You hook your earrings on and turn, lips curving up into a sly grin.

Azriel doesn’t look away. He’s sitting on the bed and uses his elbows to prop himself up as he leans backwards. His hazel eyes drink you in like a man who’s been deprived of water, appreciating every inch and curve of your form in that short dress of yours.

“How can I not when you’re dressed like that?”

“Like what?” You ask innocently. You miss the incredulous look he sends your way as you bend over to clasps the straps of your heels, inadvertently giving him a lovely view of your breasts.

You’ll be the death of him, he thinks as he sucks in a sharp breath, wondering if he could convince you to stay home tonight. It’s been a month since you accepted the mating bond and the urge to have you and keep you by his side at all times is insatiable.

You struggle with the clasps of your heels, nearly stumbling over your own feet. Azriel rises from the bed and kneels down in front of you, clasping the straps with a graceful ease. His touch lingers on your ankles and he’s well aware of the inviting heat of your body. So are his shadows. They eagerly slither up your legs.

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your calf and then another, following after his shadows. His gentle touch both comforts and thrills you. He smiles against your skin when he feels your skin tingling and tightening with goosebumps.

“Az,” you protest but the small moan that escapes your lips when he kisses his way up to your thigh betrays you. “We’re going to be late.”

“They’re not going to care or notice.” Azriel replies, reluctantly accepting that there’s no way he can convince you to stay in tonight. You’ve barely seen Feyre and tonight was all you could talk about the past couple of days. But he knows he can convince you to stay home just a while longer so he pulls away from your thighs briefly.

The look he gives you as he gazes up at you is downright sinful and you’re melting into his promising warmth.

Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting a dance of vibrant colors over the grand venue. Laughter and animated conversations weave through the air along with the pulsating beats resonating from the dance floor. Your smile widens when you spot Feyre and you’re tugging Azriel along with you.

“You’re late!” Feyre quips, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Sorry, I got a little held up,” you reply and then turn to Azriel with a subtle raise of your eyebrows, your eyes silently screaming: “I told you so.”

“I’m not sorry.” Azriel says, wearing a pleased look and you smack his arm in response, prompting a laugh from Feyre.

“Az, my man!” Cassian greets and the liquid in the glass he’s holding spills over slightly.

The two of you are being split into different directions. Cassian, with a playful grin, tugs Azriel to the table they reserved for the night, where Rhysand and Amren sit. Meanwhile, Feyre excitedly guides you toward the dance floor. You ask her where Elain is, noticing she’s the only one missing from your group but she tells you her sister is the one watching Nyx for the night along with Lucien.

Mor, already holding a drink in hand, offers it to you with a wink. You take a sip and immediately grimace at the bitter taste, making her laugh. But she insists for you to chug so you do and before you could dwell on the burn of the harsh liquid in your stomach, Nesta is spinning you into a dance.

Azriel watches you, his eyes alight with a tender affection that paints a soft glow in their hazel depths. A subtle, contented smile graces his lips. You’re laughing and smiling as you dance with the girls–a playful exchange of twirls and spins.

The dress you’re wearing is a delicate cascade of yellow, reminiscent of dandelions in a sunlit meadow and as you twirl and raise your arms, the material of your dress rides up your thighs. He takes pleasure in knowing that if your dress rode up further, it’d reveal the marks he left on your skin earlier.

Rhysand chuckles. He doesn’t need to read Azriel’s mind to know what’s on his mind and as if caught red handed, Azriel turns to his friends.

“Like you weren’t the same way with Feyre,” Cassian retorts playfully.

“As were you, boy.” Amren rolls her eyes. “All of you but I will say that I am surprised Azriel is handling tonight so well.”

Azriel’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

With a mischievous glint in her silver eyes, Amren simply raises her glass in your direction and Azriel follows. You’re still dancing with the girls, oblivious to the greedy eyes on you. They linger longer than he likes and when a group of high fae approach you, his shadows are discreetly darting to you while one remains. It curls around his ear and whispers to him and he catches snippets of your conversation. They’re thanking you for a potion they bought from you and he allows himself to relax. But only a little.

“I can’t keep up with her.” Feyre breathes heavily and Rhysand welcomes her to his lap, chuckling at her.

“Your mate is popular.” Nesta comments, smirking when she catches the glare Azriel sends her way.

Azriel lost count of the amount of drinks you’ve had but he knows you're captured in a spell of euphoric bliss when you’re swaying more than usual and the hair you had tied up is now loose around your shoulders. Mor is still with you and to his dismay, so is the small group of high fae that had approached you.

Although he knows Mor is a friend, he can’t help the unsettling feeling in his stomach when she rests her hands on your waist because you’re his and the primal instinct to make his claim and remind everyone of it is strong. He knows it’s the bond and he reminds himself of this when you lean into Mor with a smile. It’s when a dark haired female comes up behind you and her touch lingers longer than needed and brushes in places it shouldn’t that the unsettling feeling slithers into his heart like a green serpent and he loses it.

“Azriel!” You gasp happily and throw your arms around his neck.

Azriel steadies you, placing a hand at your waist in a possessive manner. His attention is on the dark haired female. You’re oblivious to the way his gaze darkens and his eyes narrow at her in a silent warning but you’re not oblivious to the tightening of his muscles.

You rest your hands on his chest, a slight pout on your face. “Why are you so tense?”

“Because she was looking at you like she wanted to fucking devour you.”

“Who?” You pull away slightly to look up at him. Your eyebrows knit together at the bitterness of his tone, even though it’s not directed at you. Then, a laugh escapes from you because the only ones you were dancing with were Mor and the female you just made friends with. “Az, she’s just a friend! Let me introduce you.”

When you turn around, your friend is nowhere in sight. “She was just here…” you murmur with a small frown.

Mor snorts besides you. “y/n, sweetie, she was definitely hitting on you.”

“Oh.”

“I need another drink,” Mor says suddenly. She pats Azriel’s shoulder playfully as she heads toward the bar. “She’s all yours now.”

You’re gleaming with delight at Azriel when he looks back at you. “You were jealous.”

“And that amuses you?” He huffs, pulling you closer to him.

“Yes,” your hands toy with his dress shirt. The uppermost buttons on his dress shirt were left undone and with a bite of your lip, you deviously unbutton more. Your hands are slipping under his shirt with easier access and caressing his chest, following the intricate pattern of his tattoos. A wave of heated desire courses through him at your touch.

“I find it kinda hot. You’re hot. Like really, really hot.”

A flush of warmth paints his cheeks and he’s thankful for the dim lighting. He stands there, with you still in his arms, momentarily speechless because he knows those words would never escape from your sober, bashful lips.

“You’re drunk,” he finally says, a smile curving his lips when you flutter your eyelashes at him in response. Amusement dances in his eyes. “Like really, really drunk.”

You poke a finger at his chest. “Drunk words are sober thoughts.”

The lively tempo of the upbeat music gracefully yields to a more intimate melody. As the first notes echo through the air, your mouth parts in delighted surprise.

“I love this song! Dance with me?”

The excitement in your voice is contagious and before Azriel can respond, you’ve already taken matters into your own hands as they grasp for his. You place one at the small of your back and entwine your fingers with the other.

“I put a spell on you."

"Because you’re mine.”

Your movements are clumsy but Azriel adjusts and guides you effortlessly. The grin on your face deepens as he twirls you, the music weaving a spell around both of you. “Mine, mine. All mine.” You sing to him, your voice joining the rhythm of the song.

As the final notes linger in the air, he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “All yours,” he confirms with a loving smile.

You nestle your head onto his shoulder, breathing softly onto his neck. You’re the one who breaks the tender spell of the moment. With a wicked gleam in your eye, you nip at the spot you know is extremely sensitive and his body shudders beneath your bold move.

“y/n.”

You giggle when you see that your lipstick left its imprint on his skin and Azriel senses that tonight will be a long one.

As the night unfolds, more people approach you to thank you for your elixirs and advice. Some of them are your regulars and you excitedly introduce them to Azriel and then they’re buying you both shots. It’s nearly a miracle when he manages to bring you back to the table. You sit on his lap and drape an arm around his neck and he tucks you into his side.

“Is the room spinning or is it just me?” You say as you lazily brush a hand down his exposed chest. “Or is it you, my pretty?”

Unlike the lighting on the dance floor, the chandelier hanging above the table bathes you all in a bright glow, highlighting the blush on Azriel’s flustered face. Laughter erupts from Cassian and Rhysand and Feyre breaks into an amused smile. Until now, she was the only one aware of your flirty nature when drunk...because when you would drink together in the Spring court, she’s been on the receiving end of it.

Shadows are pushing your drink in front of you away from you, replacing it with a glass of water instead. Your fingers are toying with the buttons on his shirt again. “This is such a nice outfit,” you murmur.

“Thank you.” Azriel replies, bringing his drink to his lips.

You lean into his ear to whisper. “It’d look even better if it were on my bedroom floor.”

Azriel nearly chokes on his drink. Water splashes onto Cassian, who sits beside him. He glances between you and Azriel. He takes note of the deepening of Azriel’s blush and then the satisfied smirk on your face.

“Drink some water, y/n.” Azriel says in a slightly breathless, unusually ruffled rush. A wave of relief comes over him when he brings the drink in front of you to your lips and you don’t protest. “You sound a little thirsty.”

“Only for you.”

“Azzy, I’m feeling a little thirsty too.” Cassian teases. He can’t help himself and leans in toward his friend, playfully batting his eyelashes at him.

You’re suddenly enveloped in a sea of green and the unwelcome visitor that had come upon Azriel earlier is now knocking on your door. You don’t like how close Cassian is to Azriel. Your mate. He’s yours and only yours.

“Back off.” You nearly growl.

“Or what?” Cassian challenges, ignoring the kick Nesta gives his leg under the table in warning.

“Double double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble–”

“Hey Az, your mate is putting a curse on me.”

“I’m her mate, not her master,” Azriel replies with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “y/n is free to do as she pleases.”

He knows you well enough to know that the words you are spewing are nothing but nonsense. A means to scare Cassian and he takes delight in the flicker of panic he sees flash in his friend's eyes.

“Can you at least tell her to stop staring at me like that?” Cassian nearly whines, avoiding your eyes when they darken at him.

When Azriel turns to you, your eyes are back to normal and softened with a sweetness that melts his heart. “I’m not doing anything,” you say coyly and Azriel finds the pout on your face unbearingly adorable.

“Stop being a baby, Cas.”

Azriel nearly has to drag you out of Rita’s. There’s only so much teasing and flirting he can take from you and he welcomes the cool breeze of the night as soon as you both step outside. With a sigh, he effortlessly hoists you over his shoulder.

“Let’s go home, love.”

He pauses at the giggle that escapes from you. “What is it?”

“I have a perfect view of your ass from here.”

Azriel shifts you from being over his shoulders to cradling you gently in his arms instead. You hum in content and raise your hand to brush against the face you adore so much. “Still a lovely view.”

“Better I hope?” He quips.

“I don’t know,” you muse with a teasing gleam in your eye. “Your ass is pretty nice too.”

“You’re going to regret this tomorrow.” Azriel huffs a laugh as he takes you home.

He’s grateful that you live only a couple of blocks away from Rita’s. He’s opening the door to your home only a couple minutes later, greeting your cat, Binx, who is lounging on your couch with a smile. Binx’s curious eyes take in your state and Azriel swears the cat winks at him.

Azriel carries you all the way to your room, using his foot to nudge the door open. He carefully places you on your bed before turning to the set of drawers. He grabs some clothes for you both to change into and when he turns to face you again, you’re curled onto your side and snoring softly.

His heart warms at the sight.

He gently slides your dress off of you, replacing it with something comfier--one of his shirt’s. He unclasps the straps of your heels and then removes your earrings. He wipes away your makeup with a dampened towel, knowing that if he doesn’t, you’d wake up with irritated skin.

Finally, after making sure you’re comfortable, he slips under the blankets. You stir and although your mind is hazy from the alcohol and drowsiness, your body still seeks out the comfort of his warmth.

“I can’t believe you're really all mine.” You murmur softly as you cuddle up to him.

He buries his head into your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of lavender he’s so fond of. He closes his eyes and smiles. He still can’t believe you’re all his either.

Another glorious morning greets you, the sun glaring brightly through your thin curtains. Your mouth feels extremely dry and a thin layer of sweat forms over your skin. The arm around your waist tightens in response to your movement. You’re shifting in the bed, turning to face Azriel.

His eyes are closed yet the subtle upward curve of his lips confirms he’s awake. “Good morning, love.”

“There’s nothing good about this morning,” you groan.

Your entire body is aching and as you stretch your sore muscles, a sudden wave of nausea hits you like a ton of bricks. You're slipping under Azriel’s hold and running to your bathroom. He follows after you, brushing your hair away and holding it back for you as you hurl all the contents from your stomach.

You lean your head against the marble cabinet near the toilet, reveling in its cool touch. “Please never let me drink like that again.”

“I quite liked drunk y/n,” Azriel teases as he helps you up to your feet. He hands you your toothbrush and leans against the doorway with his arms crossed. “She’s bold.”

All your blood rushes to your cheeks. You meet his gaze through the mirror. Bold can mean many things and as you try to remember the events from last night, you’re coming up blank. “What did I say?”

“You nearly cursed Cas,” Azriel replies. He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly as he says his next words but the mischief reflected in his eyes contradict his casual demeanor. “And you said my ass is nice.”

Azriel watches you, savoring the role reversal as now you’re the one in a flustered state. You push past him with your hands on your face–a futile attempt to cover your mortified expression. You walk back into your bedroom.

“Why are your clothes all over the floor?”

Azriel normally places his worn clothes in the hamper that sits in the corner of your room but in his haste to take care of you, he carelessly threw them on the floor. He smirks, taking advantage of the perfect opportunity to tease you further.

“Because you said they’d look better there than on me.”

“Fire burn and cauldron boil me.”

a/n: when writing this, I was listening to the song I Put a Spell on You and I found that there's another version of the song that Austin Giorgio sings called You Put a Spell on Me and it's very Az coded in this au. Imagine him singing it you 😩

tagging: @fxckmiup

[series masterlist]

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x witch!reader #azriel imagines #acotar x reader #acotar imagines #azriel fluff #az!dandelions

1K notes · View notes