#feyre is at fault too

[room217prayer]

Thoughts about Feyre and the sister dynamics

So, I'm just getting better, I'm not 100% well, but I'm still trying to re-read Acotar and... I must say that this time I did take another look at Feyre's dynamic with her sister, Nesta and Elain.

Especially in retrospect in how most of the fandom perceived both Nesta (mostly) and Elain in a bad light thanks to those first few chapters, because of how they treated Feyre, but... It's way overexaggerated. In my opinion. Or unwarranted if I dare say.

Ok, these are just my takes, me going deep because I can and I have fun in doing so. (Long rambling ahead!)

For this post I will concentrate only on the 2nd chapter of Acotar, but I'll come later with the rest. Anyway, this is the chapter in which the Archeron family, Feyre's father, and sisters, are introduced to us readers, and what it gives us is a premise of an already existing tension/situation in the home.

Something that happened outside of what we see. Of what even Feyre herself tells us.

There's already bitterness in everything Feyre's sees and think about her sisters, how Elain is surprised by what she brought home - how she doesn't comment about the blood -

"Where did you get that?" "Where do you think I got it?"

In this passage there's even Feyre being bitter that their mother made her make that promise. But what I want to focus on this is... Elain is surprised to see Feyre, to see her with a deer. Maybe it's the sheer of the prey she got (a little doe, yes, that she slumped on the table, that she took from the forest, in a place farther away than she used to go: Feyre is strong) or maybe there's something else.

"Feyre. What luck you had today - in bringing us such a feast." From beside my father, Nesta snorted.

Now, in this passage, Feyre takes this snort from Nesta as a critique/insult toward her, her accomplishment, but before and after she keeps underlining how Nesta ignored their father, how she belittles him... Resents him. So, I actually took it as her 'snort' being directed towards their father. Who didn't do anything for them.

But Feyre is quick to take it as an attack toward herself, even if immediately after she thinks this: And any words from our father usually resulted in her ridicule as well.

MHM.

Another thing: in this whole chapter Feyre keeps mentioning how Nesta resents their father. How she was the one who saved him from the beating thanks to her soiling herself and after she vomited the men left - while Elain and Nesta hid themself in their room. AND at the same time she hates him, she resents him too. But condemn Nesta for expressing the same feelings she has.

But at least Nesta didn't fill our head with useless talk of regaining our wealth like our father. / When my father still couldn't - wouldn't - move much about, he hadn't argued when I announced that I was going hunting. He hadn't bothered to stand from his seat by the fire, hadn't bothered to look up from his wood carving. He let me walk into those deadly, eerie woods that even the most seasoned hunters were wary of.

Mhm... I feel anger in these words, in her thoughts towards their father. So much resentment. AND, just to push this: He hadn't argued, he hadn't bothered, he LET ME walk into these deadly eerie woods.

Now, a great part of a certain side of the fandom loves to blame Nesta (and in some ways Elain) about letting Feyre go hunting, but guess who she blames? THEIR FATHER. BECAUSE HE IS THE ONE WHO SHOULD'VE DONE SOMETHING.

And, since I can push it more, this passage - to me - gives me that someone did argue, bothered and wouldn't want to let her walk into these woods, who? The sisters, maybe mainly Nesta. Why do I think this? Because she's focusing on her father who didn't, on the one who didn't protest. Do something.

And now, back to Feyre with the deer, the surprise of Elain, how in the first chapter she says "Hunger had brought me farther from home than I usually risked". Those deadly, eerie woods that even the most seasoned hunters were wary of. Maybe her sisters begged her to not go there, that far. But, one thing we learn quickly, is that she doesn't accept a no. Feyre does what she wants. She is the one who holds control and power. The last word.

Now, about Nesta comment: "You stink like a pig covered in its own filth. Can't you at least try to pretend that you're not an ignorant peasant?"

Now, remember: Feyre is covered in blood, guts, and Nesta is even touching her cloak. And she has just slammed a corpse on their table, where they eat. Idk about you, but this comment is the least of things, and look how she emphasized that try. Something tells me they did discuss more about this.

And then, Feyre's thinks this:

Older than me by three years, she somehow looked younger than I did.

Her oldest sister, of three years older, in her eyes looks younger than herself. Because Feyre sees herself as the caregiver of her family, the matriarch. She has a right to their money. Not even their father. She decides who to give it to. She hides it from Nesta. She is the one who has power and control over her family.

The chopping wood discussion to me felt more like spite trowed to Feyre by Nesta. Because we know that she does cut the wood, she does it in these chapters, but her words? Feels like a taunt, a reproach.

"I hate chopping wood. I always get splinters." She glanced up from beneath her dark lashes. Of all of us, Nesta looked the most like our mother - especially when she wanted something. "Besides, Feyre," she said with a pout, "you're so much better at it! It takes you half the time it takes me. Your hands are suited for it - they're already so rough" [...] Elain murmured a soft plea to Nesta, which earned a hiss in response. [...] "Get the knives ready," I said, not bothering to sound pleasant. "I'll be out soon." Without warning for an answer, I shut the door behind me.

To me this exchange feels like Feyre did comment on Nesta's nails, about her softer hands in the past. Maybe she did critique her on her technique, how she wasn't fast enough, and how she compared them. So Nesta taunts her with her words. "You're so much better at it!" She even pouts. Nesta. Elain then murmurs a plea to her and look how Feyre is like: get the knives, I'll be out soon. Like they HAVE to do what she said. No way to go against it or to say anything on the matter. This could have happened more than once. In different contests.

Then here they dine and - once again - she is in charge on how much everyone can eat. Her, not their father, no opinion taken from Nesta or Elain. She let them take another round, but no more than that. No discussion about it. And here is the dinner, the one thing that actually made me want to make this post, lol, it took me long enough ahaha.

Anyway, another thing that becomes evident during it is how unreliable she is when she listens to her sisters's gossip:

Since we had lost our fortune, their former friends dutifully ignored them, so my sisters paraded about as though the young peasants of the town made up a second-rate social circle / "We're in love," Nesta declared, and Elain nodded her agreement. I almost laughed - when had they gone from mooning over aristos to making doe-eyes at peasants?

A little biased, aren't we Feyre? On how she perceives everything Nesta says as a critique/insult and how she sees the same people they live around/with. AND how she doesn't really listen and sees how both Elain and Nesta have changed: when had they gone from mooning to doe-eyes? I WONDER IT TOO. They sure had, they even made FRIENDS, unlike you.

Then here is their discussion: it starts after Elain says that Tomas wants to marry Nesta.

I blinked. Nesta cocked her head. I'd seen predators use that movement before. "Is there a problem, Feyre?" she flung my name like an insult.

I truly wonder what expression she had when she "blinked". How she compared Nesta cocking her head to a predator and her question? The way she said her name? Nesta was preparing herself to affront the discussion that was coming. The judgment. She was steeling herself. And indeed, Feyre didn't miss.

"You can't chop wood for us, but you want to marry a woodcutter's son?" Nesta squared her shoulders. "I thought all you wanted was for us to get out of the house - to marry off me and Elain so you can have enough time to paint your glorious masterpieces."

Nesta squared her shoulders and then she said these words that for sure Feyre did say more than once, the one she probably threw at them during the heat of a fight. As she thought: Some days, I couldn't tell which of us was the most wretched and bitter.

And the fact is: she wants them out of her life, off her shoulders. She thinks this more than once. Not to say how she underline how they have no dowry ("We can't afford a dowry, for either of you") ad the way she does so is not as a younger sister, no. She's thinking like a parent, a father/mother worried about the fate of her daughters. Again, she put herself as the caregiver of her sisters.

But before I go further, here's another moment where Feyre is biased in her narrative, when the read and the situation itself feel differently:

I laid my palms flat on the table as I stared her down, Elain removed her hand from where it lay nearby, as if the dirt and blood beneath my fingernails would somehow jump onto her porcelain skin. "Tomas's family is barely better off than ours," I said, trying to keep from growling.

She thinks that Elain retreats her hand because she's afraid of her staining her "porcelain skin", but... What if she did that to take herself out from the tension, from the line of fire? Feyre laid her palms flat on the table, staring down Nesta. She almost growls. She is strong. I'm not saying that Feyre did ever hit the sisters, but... sometimes fear is prevalent. Elain taking her hand away from hers could've been her way to escape the situation, maybe the wrath of Feyre. And not because she was afraid she would be stained. Yes, maybe she didn't grow vegetables, but Elain did take to gardening. She does stain her hands. So this is only a bias Feyre has toward herself, and toward her sisters. She's insecure about her appearance, and how she is wilder in compared to them.

This felt like a way for Elain to guard herself.

Then... Feyre tells Nesta she's a burden and Nesta does lash out.

I've seen it being talked again and again on how what she says is unforgivable, but... let's see what she actually says:

"What do you know?" Nesta breathed. "You're just a half-wild beast with the nerve to bark orders at all hours of the day and night. Keep it up, and someday - someday, Feyre, you'll have no one left to remember you, or to care that you ever existed." [...] I'd heard the words before - and knew she only repeated them because I'd flinched that first time she spat them.

She doesn't say that others will not remember or care she exists. She is saying: if you keep barking orders at all hours of the day, being controlling... you will be left with no one to remember you. To care about you. Because she would have pushed them away and this is not the first time this has been said.

Feyre then looks to their father, ask him to do something, to make see reason to Nesta, but her father doesn't. She reset him more about it.

And guess who, in the future, will help her to get control over her sister? Rhysand.

Boom, mic drop.

Sorry, I had to dfdsfsdfd.

Anyway, this long ass post, with mostly me rambling, was to say that: who had the power in their home was never Nesta or Elain or even their father - who was supposed to be THE ONE - but Feyre. Who then is living contradiction.

And I would like to say more, but I've already written too much and I hope all of this makes sense lol

[paintedwritings]

The Great Frosting Incident

Pairing: Azriel x Reader (She/her pronouns used)

Word Count: 5.7k

Summary: Y/n and Azriel’s mating ceremony/wedding is three days aways, but the two can't help themselves and things get out of hand.

Warning/Notes: Mature content- definitely smut read at your own caution, there's some references to anxiety, but not too much. Hope you enjoy, would love any feedback!

✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧

Y/n thought she’d had a good plan, honestly. 

She thought that she was being a kind, thoughtful mate and future wife.

Her wedding and mating ceremony with Azriel is in exactly three days. They had been planning the events for nearly a year and a half, now. The two most introverted people in the Inner Circle had somehow come up with a celebration that would rival all others. They had wanted their guests to enjoy the night just as much as they would.

Before their family-only temple ceremony at midnight–where they’d present each other with food and swear their vows to a priestess, they would be holding a party for all of Velaris at the House of Wind– Nesta had insisted on them using it as their reception venue, she’d wanted to help with decorating and guest-control. Feyre and–surprisingly– Rhys had helped her design her own gowns and Azriel’s ceremony garb. Amren had even gifted her a beautiful deep sapphire jewelry set, the same colors of Azriel’s siphons. Mor had taken Y/n to all of her favorite lingerie and silk shops to find the perfect little underthings for the frenzy– a day that Y/n would never be able to think about without blushing.

 Mor had made her feel beautiful, telling her about all the different clasps and types of fabrics, how to remove items quickly, where to put the garters. She had given Y/n a long talk about not letting the male rip any of her beautiful clothing, that they’d pick specific ones out for that. She could still feel the lingering blush when the blond had shot her a wink over a barely-clothed mannequin.

She loved that their family had been building the perfect day with them, that they loved the two of them so much they each wanted to help in their own ways. She couldn’t wait to stand before her mate, the love of her life, and all of her family as they vowed to spend their lives together.

Despite the hectic year, the past week has been the most stressful and chaotic part. So much so, that it felt like the world had caved in to just their small corner of the world.

Tonight, however, she had a few hours of free time. Rhys and Cassian had wanted to take Azriel out for drinks and cards… which worked out perfectly, because she only had one thing left to prepare for.

Making a special frosting for the cupcake she planned to feed him–she needed to practice. 

Y/n wasn’t exactly known for her prowess in the kitchen. In-fact, she’d had an incident a few years back where certain parts of the kitchen may have burned just a little bit. Really it was Cassian’s fault–not that the Lord of Bloodshed ever admitted to it– they had been trying to cook some old recipe that he’d found in a book in the library. It had ended very badly. The House of Wind had refused to help with anything the two of them needed for weeks. 

And, Rhys? He had banned his two friends from cooking in the kitchen for a year. 

But, none of that mattered because Azriel loves this frosting. He claims it’s magic and that it tasted like sun-dripped magic and frost-coated night. That it tasted like everything that reminded him of her.

She wanted to make what she presented to him meaningful, not that he wouldn’t love anything she had to offer him– but that wasn’t the point.

Y/n had to make the perfect frosting, for her perfect mate.

✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧

Things were going terribly.

Bowls were littering the counters, half filled and dry first attempts, jeering at her from the sidelines. The kitchen smelt like bad decisions had been charred and disintegrated from deep within, and oh gods, she couldn’t even think about the frosting. 

It was everywhere.

All over the counters, on her clothes, in her hair, she was pretty sure some had gone up her nose at some point, blowing it out when the sugar had sprung to life and made her sneeze when one of Azriel’s shadows had attempted to help savage this disaster.

She had tried so incredibly hard to replicate the frosting recipe. For some reason, she hadn’t thought it would be so difficult, she didn’t even have to use an oven. But, no matter how many times she attempted the foul beast, it either crumbled apart in her hands, or ran so wet that it ruined any cupcakes she had tried to decorate with it.

Panic had begun living rent free in her chest. 

So far, she only had one batch that looked anything close to what she remembered. 

She set it down on the counter, about ready to burst into tears when she felt a tug in her chest. She had been at this for hours, and the only thing she had to show for it was a semi-smooth grayish blue muck pile.

Cauldron–she could scream. 

She turned, running her back along the bottom cabinets as she found her way to the floor. A floor she only just now realized had been covered in all sorts of mess she’d created gods only knew how long ago at this point.

Azriel is enjoying his night out with his brothers, something he doesn’t get to do very often as of late. The last thing Y/n wanted was to mess up his fun night with her ridiculous baking skills. 

She had one job, to make her mate something devine that he’d love. A representation of their bond to show him how much she loved him, and that she wanted to spend her life with him. And, somehow, she couldn’t even accomplish that.

I’m a failure.

Suddenly, as if the thought shattered whatever wall had been holding her impending tears back, her body wracked with sobs, shaking back and forth slowly. 

How had everything happened so quickly? How were they already a few dozen hours away from the most important day of her life? Why couldn’t she make something as simple as frosting?

She felt the bond warm, the small thread singing as the person attached to the other end of it appeared before her. His worried hazel eyes met her round, tear-stained ones, as he gently pulled her hands away from her face. Assessing her state, quickly. Seeing that she wasn’t physically hurt only had her mate relaxing slightly and moving on to other devilish things that could have put her in this state.

“What’s the matter, little dove?” He spoke softly, his large hands cradling her face so softly.

She sniffled, sure she must look absolutely crazy right now.

“You look beautiful,” he spoke earnestly. “And your side of the bond is wide open.”

The statement only made her cry harder. How had she been blessed with such a wonderful male? While he got stuck with a girl who can’t even make a bowl of freaking frosting.

Lifting her with no effort at all, Azriel set her down on the countertop, his body pressing into hers as her legs fell apart, allowing him to stand between them. Apron scrunching around her hips.

“Talk to me, love,” he pleaded, his hands ghosting up the length of her arms. His shadows slithering up her exposed skin, the cool sensation setting a smile on her lips. 

“I think I’m just overwhelmed,” she whispered, wiping desperately at the tears on her cheeks, the wetness mixing with all her miserable attempts. “Today’s the first day I’ve really had a chance to breathe, and I am just now realizing I am terrified.”

Azriel hummed, his way of letting her know he was listening, and that he’d wait however long she needed to get her thoughts out. “I am so excited for the next parts of our lives together,” giving him a small smile and a quick squeeze of his hand, “It’s just so much has been going on the past year, and I’m so ready to get to the next part. To just have you and not have to plan the perfect party or worry about flower arrangements and whether or not we want guests to eat on crystalled dinnerware or marble,” 

Azriel chuckled lightly, placing a kiss against her hair, his hand– the one not clasped in her hands– rubbing smooth circles along her back.

“I’m ready, too.” He admitted. “And, that’s okay, little dove. We’ve had a great year, planning together and building something that we are excited to share with the people we love.” He lifted her chin, catching her beautiful eyes with his dark pools of hazel, “I think it’s normal to feel this way, it just means that we are ready for what comes after. And I–” he swallowed, his forehead falling against hers, “I cannot wait to be able to call you my mate, my wife.”

Letting out a sigh, tears finally cleared, his mate smiled contentedly at him. “How do you always know the right things to say?”

“I speak to you with what’s in my heart–” A coy smile pulled at his lips, “And sometimes what’s in my pants.”

Laughing, she smacked his arm, wrapping her arms around his neck, pure love shining in her gaze as she looked towards her mate.

“You have made quite a mess, haven’t you?” Azriel said lightly, his hand coming to the back of her neck, placing a chaste kiss against her lips. A small pout falls onto them when he pulls away to take a more in depth look around.

“Are you making…”

“Cupcakes and the dreaded frosting,” she sighs. “Or trying to. Elain got me the recipe of that blueberry-lemon frosting–” 

“The one that tastes like a mix of my favorite guilty pleasures and you?” His voice sounded awfully close to giddy.

You give him a small smile, kissing the edge of his jaw softly. “Yes, that’s the one.”

He hummed, elation at the prospect evident as he lifts on the balls of his feet a few times. “And you’re making cupcakes with my favorite frosting, because?” 

“Oh,” a blush creeps up your cheeks, “I wanted to practice for when–” she stops herself, eyes meeting his as understanding dawns. Those golden pools of hazel that she loves so much darken, desire flooding through him in an instant. 

His lips are on hers in the next breath, his hand wrapped around the back of her neck tightening, so slightly. His other hand tangling in the messy bun adorning the top of her head, loosening the string that had been keeping it out of her face, and the frosting.

His wings flare behind him as her legs wrap firmly around his middle, dragging him ever closer, not a breaths space left between the two. He groans, rutting his body against the counter unconsciously, as her scent of crisp fall air and lavender envelopes around him, he can’t help but smile as he scents the blueberry from the frosting covering her, as well. 

Gods, the things he wanted to do to her were endless.

His tongue tangled with hers, fighting for dominance for a brief moment before his hand tightened in her hair, yanking her head back gently, causing her to open her mouth fully, a moan coming out of her. He didn’t mind letting her have control every once in a while, but while she sat between his legs, leaning so wholly against him, trusting him entirely… practicing baking for when– for when they would accept the bond–

Azriel kissed her harder, more desperately. 

Gods above, he was so in love with her. He knew she was nervous about the ceremonies, about being the center of attention. He would do everything in his power to ensure that he alleviated those anxieties as much as possible. He fell more in love with her each day. She had always fit right into his life, his family, so effortlessly. Perfectly.

Her generous soul and wondering spirit called to him in the deepest parts of his heart. She had been made as his equal, his partner, his mate, mate, mate. His shadows chanted, he shoved them down–away. Somedays he had no problem sharing his mate with them, but right now, he wanted it to just be the two of them.

“What–” She said breathless as his lips trailed down her jaw, her throat, leaving open mouth kisses everywhere he could. His scarred hands trailing the length of her arms now, one clasping her hands together, squeezing once, twice. “About Rhys and Cassian?” She sputtered.

Azriel had know idea what she was talking about, but couldn’t help the growl that escaped as two other men’s names came from your delicious lips. It didn’t matter that they were his brothers, it still set him on edge, especially when he had his tongue down her throat. Reading his confusion and possessiveness, she giggled softly as the two of them caught their breath. “Weren’t you supposed to be enjoying a boys night out tonight?”

Oh. Oh.

He fought a blush as it crept up his neck, beelining for his cheeks. “They’re fine, we were just drinking and playing cards– they lost miserably–truly you did them a favor by taking me off their hands.” A kiss placed on each of her cheeks before his forehead fell against hers once more. “You’re beautiful, and I’d much rather be here with you.”

“Besides, I think we should practice a different part of our mating ceremony tonight,” Her eyes glazed over as desire pooled deep within, every inch of her body standing to attention, ready to have this male, her male, ravish her wholly. 

All thoughts emptied out of her head as his tongue danced along hers, hands cupping her breasts through her shirt, plucking at the nipples as they hardened, earning a moan from her that he happily devoured.

Trailing her fingers across his hard erection, palming him fully, mouth salivating at the sheer size of this male, their bond vibrated with ecstasy. Azriel jolted forwards, ricocheting her body backwards, her hand accidentally smashing into the bowl of frosting she had made early– the bluish mixture coating her fingers.

They were far too gone to care, his hands pulling at her clothing, all but tearing her apron off, as he shoved her skirt up to her waist. A growl leaving him as his hand slid along her skin, gooseflesh sprouting in their wake, cursing as he realized she had no panties beneath. A daring smile pressing along her mouth as he kissed her harder, losing his control, swiftly.

She cradled his cheeks with her hands, absentmindedly, her fingers flicking all over his face, painting him with frosting as they found their way into his hair, his mouth trailing down her throat as his fingers found the pool of her arousal, his fingers flicking deftly once, twice against the little nub, her back arching as a moan escaped her.

“Az, we should–we should go to our room,” her voice didn’t sound convincing in the slightest. Especially not when she let out a beautifully delectable noise when he ran his fingers along her folds, slipping one in quickly. Letting out his own groan at the heat of her core on his skin. He could die happy like this, he decided.

“Or,” his teeth grazed the edge of her ear, slowly pressing her down into the table, splaying her in front of him like his own personal feast. “I could taste you right here, take my beautiful little dove on this island and show her how I plan to worship her for the rest of our lives,” Her eyes trailed his every move of his body as he dropped to his knees, her knees closing on instinct around him, her core tightening.

Her body burned, his touch lingered on every inch of her as he trailed delicate kisses along her thigh, to the inside of her knee, and down to her ankle, then straight back up the other side. “So perfect,” he spoke between kisses, “my beautiful mate,” then he pressed a sweet, almost fragile kiss, directly against her. 

She moaned, greedy for his touch, his lips on her most sensitive parts. Her hands needed a place to land, to grip onto so she didn’t fall straight off the edge of the world. She grabbed the table, his hair, even the bowls of frosting still surrounding them as he continued his assault against her clit, his finger being joined by a second one as they repeatedly hit that wonderful spot deep inside of her. 

She settled on holding her breasts, the fabric of her shirt somehow ending up somewhere near her collarbone. She applied any kind of friction she could as her mate ravaged her, his hand flattened against her lower abdomen as his tongue replaced his fingers, dipping in and out of her–moaning right alongside her as he devoured her juices, did his best to capture every little bit, not wanting to miss even a ounce. His fingers found their way to her clit, stroking and massaging her into madness. 

Once his tongue entered the picture, she had been a goner, quickly hurtling toward that ledge, her body alight with unfettered pleasure, something only this man could ever make her feel.

He drank her in as her body finally coiled tightly, a release so intense her back bowed off the table. His tongue lightly flicked at her entrance, trying to coax her through her high, her legs shaking so thoroughly she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to stand again.

Slowly, so slowly, her mate stood, still fully clothed, and gently pulled her up. Her skirt fell back around her waist, offering little to hide what had just occurred as she completely fell against him. He held her up, slowly stroking her arm, allowing her a moment to catch her breath.

Their eyes met, small smiles lit both of their faces. Y/n didn’t give much thought as she brought her fingers to his lips, feeling the soft, swollen skin. She still had frosting on them, and Azriel didn’t hesitate as he sucked a digit into his mouth, licking and suckling the skin, letting it go with a pop. 

He stepped back momentarily as her giggles took control, his tongue reaching out, flicking across his lips, tasting it, some frosting still coating the area. “It’s good.” He amends. She didn’t know if he meant the frosting or her, as he lifted his fingers that had just been deep inside of her and tasted them thoroughly, his eyes never leaving hers.

She could already feel that heat building up inside of her, nowhere near satiated yet. It only took one look at her mate to know that he was nowhere near done with her, either.

Then he’s coming towards her, and she barely has enough time to duck beneath his arms and scurry around the island she’d just been perched on. Already running from the male with mischievous glint in her eyes.

She barely makes it to the doorway when she watches Azriel with wicked intent in his dark, arousal filled gaze. His deft fingers dip into the blue frosting, quickly aiming it towards her retreating form. Y/n squeals and runs for her life as Az chases her through the corridor.

She doesn't even make it all the way down the hallway before he’s on her. A strong arm wraps around her middle, his other hand coming up and smearing frosting across her cheeks, and down her neck as they both laugh.

Then she’s against the wall, Azriel caging her in, frosting covered hands roving all over each other, his lifting her skirt once more, looking like he was ready to just tear the damn thing off her. Squeezing her thighs, traveling up the length of her stomach and breasts, before landing back on either side of her face. He consumed her whole. 

A man starved.

One of her hands is gripping his leathers for dear life, trying to stay tethered to this world as it crashes down around her. Her other hand, well, it has a mind of its own as she lifts it slowly,  eyes meeting his as she asks the silent question. When he nods quickly before going back to servicing his god, her finger runs a short, soft line down the side of his wing.

The noise that comes out of him is somewhere between a plea and a beast's snarl. His cock is straining against his leathers, rock hard against her leg. Another quick sprinkling of  fingers across his wings has him rutting against her lewdly, his teeth sinking into her shoulder at the uncontrollable act. Kissing down the length of his throat, she finally releases the death grip on his leathers and unbuckles his pants.

“Y/n.” It’s a shallow, broken word. She swears she can hear a please come after.

She loved that she could drive him to this state. That he felt safe enough with her to be so free, at her mercy.

“What is it you always ask me?” she taunts lowly. His eyes lock with hers, something awfully close to intrigue, and complete submission simmering behind them. Giving him a wicked smile, as she frees his thick, swollen cock, her hand not able to wrap entirely around him. A needy-whimper falls from his lips, his breathing nothing more than shallow pants, as she strokes the length of his cock, up and down, over and over, squeezing when needed, and rubbing the pad of her thumb leisurely over the tip of him, precum oozing out. He’s smooth in her hand, pulsating at each wicked flick of her wrist. Her body pressed so thoroughly to the wall, if anyone walked in they would only see him.

“Are you going to be good for me?” She finally asks, a voice she doesn't even recognize falling from her lips. “We wouldn’t want anyone hearing you, your noises are mine.” She purred, hand still casually stroking her mate, watching as he slowly lost his mind, watched as his legs started shaking, his eyes screwed shut tightly, lips pressed together, biting his tongue, trying so desperately to not make noise.

“Y/n, I’m–” She had never heard him sound so undone. She wanted to carve it into her memory, trace it with her tongue.

It took no time for him to help lift her, her legs wrapping around his middle. It took even less time for him to sheath himself fully inside of her. The two far past caring that they were in the middle of a hallway in the House of Wind, some of their family occupying rooms all throughout. 

The only thing that mattered to her was the feeling of Azriel, inside of her, filling her so full that she felt complete. 

They were panting, one of his arms wrapped tightly around her middle, simultaneously pressing her hard against the wall and his chest. Her fingers found their way under his silk top, tracing the ridges of his abs, and following the lines of his tattoos that she could draw in her sleep. 

“Az,” she panted, as her mate stood still, filling her completely, but torturing her by staying so utterly still. “Please, move,” she tried to lift herself, to bounce on his cock, but his firm hands.

“Little dove,” he spoke, his words strained, “I just need a moment–”

His lips pressed to her hair, then her cheek, her jaw, then, finally, so, so slowly he pulled out, slowly pushing all the way back in.

The moans that came from them would have sent a priest into the ground. Their breaths danced together, their eyes locking briefly before they’re lips connected and he began moving again.

“Oh, gods,” she mewled as he hit that spot so deep inside of her, his hips flush with hers as one of his hands found the cheek of her ass, hitting once, twice. The soft burn only brought her closer to the high already building inside of her, her arms wrapping around his neck, giving him easier access to her hips as he continued his torturous thrusts.

Noises were spilling out of her like symphonies to his ears, new melodies being born into the world. She couldn’t stop herself from reaching behind him, stroking the tips of her fingers around the curved edge near the top.

Whatever control Azriel had snapped. 

His hands gripped her hips, his body flush against hers, the wall and his hands the only two things keeping her upright. He thrust into her over and over, euphoria shattering her vision as stars burst behind her lids. She could feel him pulsating, their slick centers making a deliciously crude sound as they came together over again. 

When the tips of his fingers met that desperate, aching pearl, stroking and kneading in a way he knew she’d love, she imploded. 

Her orgasm ricocheted through her body in waves. All thoughts emptying from her mind as pleasure consumed her. As her mate continued to ruthlessly pound into her, harsh breaths spilling from between his lips. 

“That’s it, my little dove, milk my cock.” He soothed, his fingers finally relenting their ministrations against her. There was nothing but pure male pride laced in his voice, possessiveness oozing from every orifice. 

Her hips circle his on instinct, ready for another round, it didn’t matter that she’d already come twice, she needed more. Besides, her mate typically didn’t let her go without giving her at least three to his one. He took great care of her, always making sure she was completely satisfied. 

“I want you to cum in my mouth,” she pleads, stopping her tortuous movements. He let out a choppy sob at the sudden loss of feeling.

“Holy fuck, Y/n,” he growled, slipping out of her and guiding his mate down to her knees without a second thought. His hand staying put in her hair, helping to guide her exactly where he wanted her. Sitting back on her heels, looking up at him with big innocent eyes. This beautiful specimen of a man standing over her, stroking his cock like his life depends on it. There was a wild, animalistic look in his eyes, sweat beading across his forehead. He was still covered in icing, Suddenly she was so thankful she took to baking today.

Azriel smacks the head of his cock against her mouth, once, twice, before slowly guiding himself inside her hot, tight mouth. Both moaning into each other, it took everything inside of Azriel not to rut straight to the back of her throat, “fuck, baby, I’m not gonna last long, I don’t think I can hold myself back. Mother above, you're so perfect, perfect for me. Made to suck my cock. Isn’t that right, love?”

 His cock hit the back of her throat, the stretch uncomfortable, but so delicious. “Remember, little dove, if its too much you hit my thigh three times,” She does her best to nod, but only manages to choke herself more as Azriel pulls his cock out to the tip, before slamming back in, her eyes blacking out for just a moment, a gag trapped between their bodies. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hand guiding her head.

“Touch yourself for me, baby,” she could hear the control slipping from his tone, could feel as he quickly hurtled to that edge, she had every intention of joining him there. So, she did as she was told. She slipped her fingers between her legs, feeling their mix of juices as they leaked down her thighs, and began stroking–matching her swirls of her tongue with her fingers.

Starting to speed up his motions, as he pulled his greedy cock in and out, using her mouth like his own personal paradise. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he raspy voice chorused.

His thrusts turned sloppy, his hands tightening in her hair, when his cock hit the back of her throat one last time, a gag unstoppable as he spilled down her throat.

She drank him up, every last drop, she didn’t want to miss any of him. Thick, warm liquid that tasted of salt and the darkness and entirely of him coated her throat. His taste alone had her following quickly after, her third orgasm barrelling through her as she sat on her knees in the middle of the hallway, skirt lifted to her waist, cardigan lost somewhere around her arms.

When he pulled out, breathing heavily, Y/n couldn’t help but place a chaste kiss against the head of his cock, one last peck, just an ‘until next time’. He hissed at the overstimulation, his hands guiding themselves around her elbows before he guided her to her feet. 

“That was–” he shook his head, letting it fall against hers. She smiled as he fixed his leathers, looking around to ensure none of their family had had the misfortune of bearing witness to the two of them. 

She’s about to say something when Azriel tenses. One of his shadows darting around his shoulders. 

Azriel looked her over, straightening her skirt, and closing her cardigan as he did his best to try to wipe the remaining frosting off of her face. That’s when she hears them.

Footsteps, loud, even in fae standards, coming down the perpendicular hallway. Purposeful, those steps were meant to alert the two lovebirds. 

She could already feel the blush taking over her, flooding her cheeks, her chest, her shoulders, her knees, every inch of her being.

“It’s okay, little dove,” Azriel whispered into her hair. 

She was so embarrassed– 

“Don’t be embarrassed.” He soothed. “ That was one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had. We’re mates, we’re bound to lose ourselves in the moments sometimes.” She nods quickly, pride slowly sawing away at her humiliation, “besides, Cassian and Nesta have done way worse things to each other, in far more of our shared living spaces.”

 Burying her face in his chest, his soul finding solace as his arms wrapped around her, his cheek laying against the top of her head.

He came to an abrupt halt, inhaling his mate’s scent– it was different?

What the hell?

Rhys finally rounds the corner, peeking over slightly to ensure he’s not disrupting the two of them in the middle of their…relations. Cassian, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice or maybe he just didn’t care.

“What the hell is going–” Cassian starts, stopping short as he enters the hallway. “Good gods, what were you two doing in here? It reeks of sex and–”

“Cassian,” Azriel snarls. Stepping more fully between his brothers and his mate. Instincts flaring alive inside of him, calling to him to keep her far out of their sights. His wings rose as they stretched to their full length, keeping her out of his brothers’ line of sight.

She could only imagine how this must have looked to the males. Both of them breathless, him cradling her to his chest, face buried against him, both of them still covered in frosting, there were even some spots on the walls covered in the dark blue sugar. 

“Uh, guys–” Cassian continues, ignoring Azriel, and the very nasty snarls coming from the shadowsinger as his grip on her only tightens. His shadows now back in full as they swarm to cover her skin where she’s bare.

“Stop staring at her,” Y/n’s eyes widened, she had never heard Azriel sound so…feral.

“Az?” She spoke so lowly only he could hear.

Azriel seemed to have stopped breathing, his eyes closed so tightly that the crinkles in his eyes appeared. He nodded his head, probably talking to Rhys via his daemati abilities.

When his eyes finally opened, they were filled with nothing but sorrow, and what looked like… an apology?

“I’m so sorry, Y/n, I wasn’t thinking straight.” It was at that moment that everything clicked into place. 

The frosting.

No, no, no.

Her hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide as she stood stark still against her mate. He had licked the frosting. That she had made for him.

“But–but we,” she stammered, thoughts running a mile a minute. “It’s not like I offered it to you on a spoon!” She screeched as the past year started crumbling around her. All of the planning, all the hard work and long days, only for them to–

Oh gods.

Cassian cringed, making sure to stay far away, now that he knew why his brother had been pulsating, ready to burst at their appearance. The slight twitch of his wings, the only indication of his possessive rage, that took root deep inside of him.

“Whatever you did,” Rhys spoke carefully, also standing further back, she noticed. “Was enough for the bond to solidify, your scents–”

Azriel snarled so viciously when the High Lord met Y/n’s gaze, his mate quickly looking anywhere else as to avoid agitating him.

Everyone seemed to hold their breaths, waiting to see if Azriel would continue to cradle his new mate against his rough-rising chest or if he’d lunge for one or both of his brothers, as they all walked a very fine, very unpredictable line.

Then, she laughed. And laughed. And laughed. 

Azriel’s eyes tracked her every movement, her head falling back against the wall, her fingers holding tightly to his leathers, keeping him close. His ears rung with pleasure at the sound, his fear of how this would change things dissipating at the sound. Did that mean… she wasn’t angry?

Then she smiled, unwavering and bright, her hands cradling his cheeks as she stared at her mate. “We’re accidentally-officially mated,” Her face aglow with utter joy and excitement.

She’s not sure when Rhys and Cassian finally made their exit, the males slowly backing away, giving each other looks, not having expected this turn of events.

She didn’t care, though.

“We are never going to live this down,” she groaned. Already knowing that their family and friends would tease them about this for years to come. She smiled, the thought not nearly as alarming as she’d thought.

Not when she was in her mate’s arms, not when their scents were merged in the most delicious ways.

“I guess it’s not practice, after all.” She spoke softly, her lips brushing along his, “now, are you gonna stand there and stare at me all day, or are you going to bring me to our bedroom and finish what we started?”

Pure male pride lit Azriel’s face, a wicked smirk that showed off his canines was the last thing she saw before they disappeared into his shadows.

[finelinevogue]

Hi I just read your work bigger than all of them and I loved it sm!! Wondered abt a follow up fic where one of the girls let’s slip that they talked abt it to the boys and Cass and Rhys are like upset that Az is the biggest maybe? Idk just thought it would be funny ❤️❤️

this is so funny yess of course!!! this is only short but… hope it’s worth it!! tysm for reading <33

word count - >500

pairing - azriel x mate!reader

[ part 1 here ]

It was family dinner night.

Everyone together for a lovely meal, cooked by Elain and Mor since they were the best chefs the family had to offer. Cassian would pretend he chipped in, but realistically he only licked the pudding bowl after it had been finished with.

“Pass me the sauce please, Az.” Rhys asked, holding an arm out for his brother to pass him the sauce pot.

“Feyre are you seriously ogling Rhys’ arms at the dinner table?” Amren snorted.

“They’re right in front of me what do you expect?” Feyre blushed and everyone laughed at how easy it was to wind her up.

“We know what to expect, don’t we little miss High Lady.” Mor raised her eyebrows, which caused Feyre to go all shy and dip her head into Rhys’ body for protection.

“Did we miss something?”

Cassian, the ever oblivious male, asked.

“You certainly did.” Nesta smirked.

Each of you girls began to catch each other’s eyes from around the room, trying your best not to snicker or expose yourselves.

Mor looked at you and held her hands up in front of her, palm facing palm. She slowly dragged them from a centimetre apart to about nine inches.

Your breath hitched as you remembered what she was implying - how her actions related to the other night - and now it was your turn to blush.

“Oh..” You sighed awkwardly.

“What?” Azriel asked from beside you.

“Nothing, nothing.” You smiled, using your face to stuff a potato in your mouth so you wouldn’t have to answer any more questions.

Curse Azriel to be so perceptive though.

He looked over to Mor, who was still holding up her hands the exact same way. She held eye contact with Azriel and then switched to looking at the gap between her hands, before looking back at him with an impressed look on her face.

If it weren’t for the well-known fact that Mor’s mind was constantly horny then he wouldn’t have a clue what she was doing. But because of that fact, plus Azriel being so clever, he put it all together.

Azriel coughed subtly, before taking his hands away from his cutlery and holding out his own hands. He held them slightly further apart than Mor’s.

“It’s actually more like this.”

Mor’s jaw went slack.

She could not believe that quiet, shy-boy, Azriel had just said what he said and did what he did.

You watched the whole thing and sunk further down into your chair.

“Please stop.” You mumbled.

The girls started squealing again, meaning that they’d seen the little dramatic too. You’d been too busy focusing on Azriel and his hands to notice though.

It was his fault he was too distracting. You often told him his beauty would one day get him in trouble.

“That’s….” Feyre gawked.

“Big!”

“Huge!”

“Oh Mother above… Y/N how are you still alive?”

A flurry of comments from the girls made you go cherry red. This was worse than the wine evening itself. Now under the spotlight of your mate too, it only increased the embarrassing situation tenfold.

Cassian stopped eating for a minute to find that Rhys looked very unimpressed by his giggling mate. Nesta and Elain were fanning themselves like they were in heat. Mor looked like she was majorly impressed by something. You looked like you wanted the Mother to swallow you whole and Azriel… well he looked like a the cockiest Illyrian he had ever seen.

“Wait?! Did I miss something again?”

[illyrianbitch]

A Sleeping Guide for Insomniacs — Part Two

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: After a family dinner leaves him feeling more alone than comforted, Azriel finds himself at your shop once more. He's unsure why he’s come again—only that something in him, and in his shadows, is drawn to you.

Warnings: some self-deprecation, envy, loneliness, insomnia, fluff, fun, deep introspection, az and his relationship with his shadows

Word Count: 4.3k

Part One | Series Masterlist |

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Step Two: Learn the Language of the Dark

Sleep does not come when called, nor does it linger where it feels watched. It prefers to arrive unnoticed, slipping in through the cracks of an unguarded mind. If you search for it too directly, you may find it has disappeared entirely.

The trick is patience. Let the dark settle. Listen to the quiet things—the crackling of a fire, the rhythm of your own breathing, the steady pulse of something unseen. Do not demand sleep’s presence. Let it believe it has found you first.

— (A Sleeping Guide for Insomniacs, 27)

Azriel tried his best to control himself. 

Truly— he did. But a few nights later, around half past two, Az found himself outside of your shop once more. 

He hadn’t planned to come here. Had told himself he wouldn’t. But the moment he left the River House, he knew he wouldn’t be going home. He couldn’t bring himself to. He knew that tonight, even more than usual, the townhome would feel like a mausoleum. A place for something long dead. And he would be the only ghost haunting it.

Family dinner had been nice. Better than he’d expected. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed them all until he was sitting at the table, feeling that familiar warmth and laughter fill the space. Their happiness made him happy. Being surrounded by them should’ve been enough. And for a little while, it was.

But Azriel had never been good at enough.

Even as he sat there, listening, speaking when prompted, he could feel it creeping in—that itch under his skin, the restless, bitter twist of something ugly. He’d wanted to stay. He’d wanted to soak in their presence, as if he could steal a little of their light and make it his own. And yet, the longer he sat there, the more he wanted to bolt. Like some feral thing backed into a corner, too proud to ask for space but too tired to keep pretending.

After dinner, his shadows had heard Nesta. Had curled around the sound of her voice, quiet and careful as she asked Feyre how she did it—how she managed being a mother. He pulled them back before they could hear more. Before the words could break and he’d hear an admission of fear that wasn’t intended for his ears.

Azriel left the room, but the next was no better. Mor and Emerie were huddled near the bassinet, soft laughter between them, cooing at the newest addition to the family—Wren, all dark hair and violet eyes, bright and powerful, just like her father’s. Rhys was in the room next door, speaking in that same hushed tone Feyre had used, Cassian listening just as carefully. Family planning. Words of advice from one parent to another one, soon-to-be. 

Azriel stood there, staring at them, feeling like something separate. Something apart.

He hated himself for it. Hated that he couldn’t just be happy for them without feeling like he was standing in the cold, pressing his palm to a window, watching something he could never touch. Selfish, for letting his own misery take up so much space in his chest when he should’ve just enjoyed the evening. 

It was his own fault, anyway. His own doing.

So he left.

He had been too tired—too sleepless—to fight the urge to go somewhere else. He let his shadows lead him through the streets, through the hush of Velaris at night, until they curled around the door of your shop.

The bell above the door chimed as Azriel stepped inside. A soft, lilting sound, delicate against the quiet. He stilled beneath it, looking up, his shadows stirring at the noise. The brass caught the low glow of candlelight, swaying gently from where it had been fastened to the frame. 

“It’s new."

Your voice brought his attention back down. You stood behind the counter, sleeves pushed to your elbows, hair barely held together with a crooked pin, as if you'd meant to fix it but got distracted. There was something easy about the way you smiled—amused, but not unkind.

“It was a gift, I think," you said, glancing up at it. “Someone left it outside.”

Azriel knew that. He was the one who left it there. A gift, in theory. A selfish comfort in truth. A bell above the door made it safer for you. And if it gave him even a fraction of peace, knowing you’d loudly hear should anyone come inside, well—he wouldn’t think too hard about that. A wisp of shadow curled toward you, drawn by what Azriel could only assume was the warmth in your voice, before he managed to reign it back in.

He cleared his throat. “It's nice.”

You hummed in agreement. “Looking for anything in particular?”

Company.

But Azriel didn’t say that.

“Another candle,” he said instead. “The one you gave me last time.”

Your brows lifted, something flickering behind your gaze—curiosity, maybe. “Are you starting a collection?”

He held your gaze. “It's all gone. I loved it that much.”

A slow tilt of your head. A look that said you didn’t believe him. But you smiled anyway, making your way around the counter. “Okay. I have some new ones as well, if you’d like to try them?”

Azriel nodded in agreement and you guided him through the shop, showing him the new additions to your collection. He noticed all the subtle changes in arrangement since the last time he’d been here—the way the dried herbs hanging from the rafters had shifted, a new assortment of small trinkets tucked near the register, the faintest scent of something floral and unfamiliar woven into the air.

You excused yourself momentarily to greet a few customers, welcoming them inside with the same gentle ease you had with him. Azriel, left to his own devices, felt a brief temptation to slip away. Not out of disinterest, but guilt. He was taking up your time, and despite the comfort of your presence, he knew better than to linger where he wasn’t wanted.

His shadows disagreed. They remained close, lingering in the pockets of candlelit corners, curling against the floorboards like smoke. One drifted toward the counter where you stood, its edges flickering as if continuously reaching for you. Surely, if there had been any signs of discomfort that Az had missed, his shadows would have alerted him. They hadn’t. The only murmurings they’d offered him were small observations, whispers about you and your creations. 

Besides, you didn’t seem like the type of fae to entertain something you weren’t invested in. If he was overstaying his welcome, he was sure you’d let him know. 

It wasn’t like he was wasting your time.

Azriel planned on buying as many candles as you’d let him. To make up for the free one you’d given him and to pay, without you even knowing, for the pleasure of your company. Which, now that it was voiced in his mind, sounded a lot more strange than he anticipated.

He let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders back. His wings shifted slightly behind him, careful not to knock over anything fragile. He’d been so focused on the small, grounding motions—keeping his hands from brushing against too many things, keeping his wings tucked, keeping himself small—that he hadn’t noticed anything else.

“Oh,” you murmured, glancing toward the front window. “It’s storming.”

Azriel looked up, following your gaze. The sky had darkened, thick clouds swirling low over the city, and a soft, rhythmic patter of rain had begun to tap against the glass. In the distance, thunder rumbled.

You looked at him.

He didn’t know why, but something about the way your expression shifted made his throat feel tight. He could see you thinking, watch the thought settle behind your eyes before you voiced it aloud.

“Nights like these are a rare occurrence for me.”

Azriel blinked. “How so?”

You gave him a smile—small, slightly lopsided. Then, without answering, you brushed past him, moving toward the entrance of the shop. Azriel didn’t mean to indulge, but he did, just slightly, inhaling your scent as it breezed past him. It settled somewhere deep inside him. He hadn’t realized a smell could do that—that it could sink into him like a tangible thing.

He watched as you flipped the wooden sign on your door, turning the lock with a quiet click.

“I close,” you said, spinning back to face him. “And I work in the back.”

Then, without waiting for a response, you tilted your head toward the doorway leading deeper into the shop and started walking. You didn’t look back as you called, “Are you coming?”

Azriel hesitated.

He had already been forming the words to excuse himself, to say something polite but firm— Oh, no, it’s—

But he stopped.

You glanced at him over your shoulder, raising a brow. “Come on,” you said, as if it were obvious. “You can’t leave in this weather.”

Azriel had traveled in much worse conditions—in blizzards so thick they stole the breath from his lungs, in hailstorms that left bruises even on his wings. A normal Velaris rainstorm was nothing to him. If anything, it was comforting. Familiar.

But he didn’t tell you that.

Instead, he exhaled, glancing once more at the window, at the downpour streaking against the glass.

And then—

“Alright,” he said. The shadows at his feet swirled, shifting toward the doorway, clearly happy with his choice. He could practically feel their pleased chattering, the happy vibrations they sometimes created. 

You gave a small, satisfied nod before turning on your heel and disappearing into the back room. Azriel followed.

The space was different from the shop—warmer, lived-in. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with jars of dried herbs, glass bottles filled with rich oils, and neatly arranged wicks. A long worktable sat in the center of the room, its surface covered in wax molds, candles in various stages of completion, and an array of handwritten notes scattered between them.

At the far end of the room, a narrow spiral staircase curled upward, disappearing out of sight. Azriel’s gaze lingered on it briefly. A way to your living space, he assumed.

You moved through the space with the same ease you had in the shop, lighting a few candles as you went, their soft glow adding a golden warmth to the dimming room. His own shadows shifted in response, mirroring the flickering dance of the candlelight. He hadn’t seen them so animated in a while. So playful, almost. 

Azriel settled into a chair near the worktable, and exhaled slowly. It was nice, he realized. The quiet. The scent of wax and herbs. The gentle crackle of the wick as one of your candles burned.

For the first time all night, he felt no desire to flee. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The rain had only grown heavier,  rattling against the windows as Azriel watched you work, cataloging each movement with a quiet, deep interest. His shadows coiled lazily at his shoulders, watching just as intently as he did. Every now and then, one of them would curl toward your hands, retreating just before it could brush your fingers.

Azriel had never given much thought to how candles were made, had never given much thought to candles at all, really. He was learning, however, that it was an intricate process—more than just wax and wick. There was something patient in the way you measured things, in the way your hands moved with an ease that could only come from repetition. It reminded him, strangely, of sharpening a blade. 

“It has to be centered,” you explained, adjusting the wick with deft fingers. “Or it won’t burn evenly. And you don’t want the wax to cool too fast, or it’ll crack.”

He nodded, storing the information away.

The wax melted down into liquid gold, shimmering under the dim light. He recognized the stillness in your hands, the same kind he practiced when honing an edge to perfection—waiting for the right moment, for the right feeling. And then, just when it seemed right, you poured. The wax slid into the glass containers in smooth, curling ribbons, and Azriel swore it pulsed for a second before settling. Glowed. Just for a moment, he thought he saw the faintest shimmer at your fingertips, like embers beneath your skin. 

Then came the oils. A few drops of something dark, something rich, something sharp. He watched them sink in, curling and shifting. “Some oils don’t mix easily,” you murmured, taking notice of his extreme focus on their movement. “You have to convince them.”

Azriel glanced at the tiny vials on the table, their labels handwritten in looping script. “Convince them?”

Some scents work together naturally. Others take some persuasion.” You tapped one of the vials. “Bergamot plays nice. Cinnamon is stubborn. If you add too much, it overwhelms everything else.”

That caught his interest. It felt familiar. The wrong amount of pressure could make or break a blade. Too much force, and steel became brittle. Too little, and it dulled before it ever truly became sharp. He stored the information away— another note added to the mental archive of things he was learning about you. 

One of his shadows curled along his wrist, then flicked toward the bottles, hovering over them like it was considering. Another slithered across the table, weaving between the vials before retreating back into the folds of his wings. You traced their movements with a pointed gaze.

“They’re curious things, aren’t they?”

“It’s part of their nature,” Az offered, almost sheepishly. 

“All things must have hobbies,” you hummed. “Do they ever sleep?”

His lips parted slightly. It wasn’t a question he’d ever been asked before.

They rested, yes. Pulled back into him like a tide receding from shore, still present but quieter, subdued. If that counted as sleep, then maybe. But Azriel didn’t know sleep well himself—had never been able to slip into it easily, to surrender the way others did. So who was he to define what sleep was, really?

"I think they rest," he said slowly. One of the shadows drifted toward you, stopping just shy of your fingers. Hovering, like it was waiting for permission. "But I don't know if it's sleep. I’m not sure I’ve been the best example. My habits aren’t exactly… restful."

The shadow between you wavered, flickering like a flame. The corners of your lips quirked, just slightly, in response. A small smile of enjoyment, maybe, Azriel thought. Of awe, his shadows confirmed.

Your gaze dropped to your hand, where a trail of dried wax clung to your fingers in pale, ridged streaks. You rubbed your thumb along one, absentmindedly, then turned your palm upward. Open. Still. An invitation, Azriel realized.

Then—slowly—they came.

They circled your hand like they were learning it—one loop, then another—before slipping gently around your fingers, brushing along your wrist. Like smoke, yes. But warmer. Almost reverent. As if they recognized something in you.

And for a moment, Azriel felt strangely vulnerable.

It was rare to see this—a core part of himself, his very being—so open with someone he barely knew. Because that was the truth, wasn’t it? You were still, in many ways, a stranger. And yet… his shadows were drawn to you. He was drawn to you. That openness—they granted it freely. And Azriel, without even realizing, had let them.

No one ever really understood how deeply they were tied to him—how it wasn’t just power or convenience. It was identity. Intimacy. Letting them roam like this, show interest, was the closest thing to baring his chest and asking not to be wounded.

“They like you,” he said quietly.

Your head lifted. “With that tone,” you murmured, “I’m tempted to believe they don’t like many people.”

“They don’t.”

You blinked—just once—and he swore he saw something shift in your face. A flicker of surprise. Maybe even a hint of color across your cheeks. You looked down, almost shyly, as the shadows wound another lazy circle around your wrist.

You pulled your hand back slowly, and his shadows slipped away like they’d been summoned home—one vanishing into the curl of his wing, the other folding back beneath the table like a ripple disappearing into still water.

You cleared your throat. “So, what about you?” 

Az blinked. “What about me?”

You smiled, just a little. “What does a Shadowsinger do for fun?” Then, with a slight tilt of your head, “Besides keep his shadows company?”

Azriel liked the wording you used.

There were times he felt… guilty about them. His shadows. As if he had trapped them in his orbit, as if they deserved more than to be tethered to him. They were brilliant creatures—strange and knowing in ways even he couldn’t fully understand—and they’d chosen to protect him. He used to wonder if they would have preferred someone kinder, someone softer. If they were ever disappointed by the male he had become.

But the way you said it—as though he was the one devoted to them, made him glow. Just a bit. Because he was. They were him. The best parts of him, he liked to think.

A lone tendril wrapped briefly around his wrist before retreating. A soothing motion— a silent reassurance. Azriel shook his head. “Not much.”

You nodded, as if that was answer enough. And maybe it was.

But as he sat there, watching the wax cool and the storm roll on outside, he wondered if he liked that answer at all.

Azriel wasn’t sure who he was if he wasn’t needed—wasn’t sure if he was anything at all.

He was a protector first and foremost. At least, he liked to think so. It was one of the only good things he could say about himself. That, and a brother. A son. A friend. Those were good titles, too. They gave him purpose.

He was a warrior, as well. That title was heavier, stained with blood he couldn’t always see but always felt— thick between his fingers, stuck beneath his nails. He was a Spymaster. He had duties, priorities, an expectation to shield his court from unseen threats. And that was what he was good at. He’d learned how to enjoy it, in some twisted way.

But it wasn’t like he had hobbies. Not really.

There were things he found joy in, once. Music, mostly. But he never indulged. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was just another thing wrong with him, another flaw added to a list that never stopped growing.

Maybe it was because it felt wrong— felt wrong to have things that brought him joy and peace. Things he didn’t think he deserved.

Or maybe it was something else.

Azriel didn’t like being bad at things. He didn’t like falling short. If he wasn’t the best, what was the point? What was he worth? He wanted to prove to people he was worthy, strong. Important. And maybe, in some childish way, he was afraid of loving something he wasn’t perfect at. Afraid of failing at something that wasn’t life or death but still meant something. Afraid of finding something that was his and losing it anyway.

Because Azriel lost things. That was what he did.

It was why he was suspicious by nature, why he questioned every good thing that fell into his hands. His family never seemed to understand.

You’re not in that cell anymore, Az. It’s okay to let people in.

They didn’t get it. Not truly. Not even Mor.

Because Azriel was always in that cell. Every time things got hard, every time he fell into his bad habits again, he was there. Eight years old. Small and angry and afraid. A caged thing with no way out but violence.

That suspicion bled into everything. Even the idea of having something that was his. He didn’t trust it. Didn’t trust himself with it. What if he let his guard down? What if it made him weak? Distracted? What if someone he loved suffered for it?

But sitting across from you, watching the way your fingers brushed the rim of a cooling candle, Azriel let himself think—just for a moment—of the things he did enjoy. The things that could be his, even if he never let them be.

“I like to draw,” he said before he even registered the words.

You looked up, brows slightly raised. He blinked.

Then, quieter—like he had to ease himself into it—he added, “Sometimes.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

You stopped, the candle in your hands forgotten as you looked at him. Really looked at him. And Azriel thought he could get used to this—the way you focused on him so intently, so openly, as if he were worth paying attention to. As if he weren’t something to be endured or feared, but something worth knowing.

“What got you into it?”

Azriel didn’t want to tell you the truth—that once his eyes had adjusted to the dark of his childhood cell, he’d learned to draw shapes in the dirt of the cement floor. That he’d sketch the things he wanted, as if bringing them to life in the dust could make them real. It started small—a circle for the sun, a smiley face, crude and uneven. But as the years dragged on, his drawings became more intricate, more desperate. They were the only thing in that cell he could control.

Later, when he was older, he’d picked it up again—not for his mind, exactly, but for his hands.

He’d spent years watching Rhysand and Cassian write with ease, moving ink across parchment like it was nothing, and he’d envied them. Envied the way their hands obeyed without hesitation. His had been ruined before he even had the chance. But Azriel couldn’t accept that. He wouldn’t. He’d forced himself to practice in the dead of night, scrawling his name over and over again until his fingers ached. Until he could hold a pen without his grip faltering.

And then, in rare, fleeting moments, he’d find himself drawing again. Not to prove anything. Not to fix what had been broken. Just to capture something. The slant of a roof from where he was perched. The outline of a hand, a face, a familiar silhouette lost in the crowd. Sometimes, when no one was looking, he’d feel something close to satisfaction. A flicker of something childlike and untainted.

And then, like always, he’d snuff it out.

“Just something I picked up,” Az finally answered.

“I’m jealous. I’m shit at drawing.” You huffed a quiet laugh. “That's why I don’t have a logo.”

Azriel exhaled something that might’ve been amusement. Not quite a laugh, but something close enough. He tucked that information away, curious as to why it made his mind perk up, why he suddenly had the urge to pick up a pen, to find a loose scrap of parchment.

“Well, I’m not any good.”

“That’s what the best of them say. I can tell you’re great.”

He frowned slightly. “How?”

“Your eyes,” you said simply. “The artistic ones always have lovely eyes.”

A blush crept up Azriel’s neck, settling at the tips of his ears. It had been a long time since something so simple had affected him like this.

He used to worry that he looked too much like his father—harsh lines and jagged edges, equal parts anger and spite. A face built for scowls, for war. But he had his mother’s eyes. He was grateful for that. Had always been. It was the one thing about himself he had never resented.

“I guess you’ll have to see,” he said, and the tone of his own voice caught him off guard. Lighter. Almost teasing. It was… flirty. More than he’d been in a while.

He wasn’t sure why he felt so at ease—why he let himself lean into it. It wasn’t that Azriel didn’t flirt; he did, though not as often now as he once had. And he was damned good at it. Even he could admit that.

But it was never like this.

Never with someone who could make him blush in return. Never in a moment that felt this close, this quiet. This real.

You raised an amused brow. “Does this mean you’re going to show me your work?”

Azriel gave you a gentle, half smile. A sweet thing that pulled at the small dimples on his cheek.  “Maybe.”

Something glinted in your eyes. Something warm and gold, identical to the light Azriel had seen flow into the candle you’d made. “I can take a maybe,” you said.

Azriel stored that image of you away in his mind, too. 

The rest of the night passed easily.

Azriel watched as you poured more wax, as you tested scents and told him about the customers that would take these candles home.

You turned it into a game, making him guess the notes of each scent. You smiled when he got it right, laughed in surprise when he was spot on about its name. It made him feel like a thief, stealing those moments—the way your eyes lit up, the way your grin tugged at your cheeks—and tucking them away like something precious. Like they weren’t his to have, but he’d take them anyway.

He didn’t tell you the truth. That after centuries of broken noses, scent was a muddled thing for him. That it wasn’t instinct or skill, but the creeping tendrils of his shadows coiling at your hands, ghosting over glass, whispering the answers to him. He had no plan on telling you, either. He was too enamored with the way you looked at him, too selfish to give it up.

The storm didn’t let up until the early hours of the morning, rain easing into mist as the sun crept over the horizon. Azriel didn’t leave until you unlocked the shop doors, until the first customer walked in as if on cue. And by the time he made his way home, breathing in the damp, earthy scent of a freshly washed world—a scent he knew without help—he realized he’d forgotten how lonely he’d felt before he stepped into your shop.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

authors note: me rising from the dead to give you a tender slow burn hehe. this series is lowk my stress reliever/my excuse to dig deep into az's mind. my energy has been nonexistent recently so hopefully this isn't ass

i hope everyone is doing amazing <3 love u mwuah

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[inkedinshadows]

Lost in Submission

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

Summary: After you spend all day teasing Azriel, he grows very needy and very eager to be alone with you.

Warnings: smut, no plot, sub/dom dynamics, oral (f receiving), p in v, creampie

Word count: 3.6k

A/N: @callsigns-haze this one's for you <33 also, I didn't proofread it after final editing bc i was too eager to post so sorry if there are typos or anything else. This was originally a draft for kinktober but I had written only a few paragraphs then completely forgot about it lmao. I didn't want to wait till tomorrow so sorry for the late posting, now I'll go to bed cuz it's 1am ANYWAY enjoy babes love you all

You had been teasing him all day—heated glances in his direction, a brush of your fingers against his, purposely walking so close to his wings that he sucked in a breath every time. And when you sat on his lap after dinner, gathering in the living room with the rest of your family, Azriel didn't waste time wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling your neck.

He didn't pay attention to the conversation. Mor and Cassian's banter, Feyre's quiet laugh and Amren's halfhearted complaints were nothing more than background noise. There was just the sweet scent of his mate and the soft skin where neck met shoulder, that spot he always liked to gently nip at.

“Azriel,” you murmured under your breath. “What are you doing?”

He trailed the tip of his nose along your neck, up your jaw, until he could whisper in your ear, “I want you.”

He didn't care if the others could hear, could see. You'd been driving him crazy all day, and now that you were in his arms, he wasn't sure he could hide how much he needed you. The proof of his desire was hidden from his family’s sight only because you were sitting on it.

“I know you do,” you answered sweetly, running your fingers through his hair. “But you'll have to wait, my love.”

Azriel almost groaned. “You've been teasing me all day.”

“That I have.”

Your sly smile made his cock throb in his pants, and by the way your eyes glinted with amusement, he knew you had felt it against your thigh. But as he opened his mouth to try to convince you, you shook your head.

“Pleading won't get you anywhere,” you said. Your voice was low enough that the rest of your family wouldn't hear it over the chatter, but your tone was firm, authoritative. “Now behave. Or I won't let you touch me tonight.”

It was Azriel's worst nightmare—having you lying next to him in bed, but not being allowed to touch you. Especially when all he wanted to do was bury himself inside you. So he nodded.

You just smiled, and focused again on the conversation.

Azriel tried his best to do the same, but he couldn't. Your scent filled his nostrils, your body pressed against his was a constant reminder of how much he wanted you, and then there was the way you would shift from time to time. To find a more comfortable position, you said, but Azriel knew your squirming around was another test, another torment.

Time seemed to stretch on forever until even his patience ran out. His hand on your thigh squeezed gently, and he brushed a kiss to your neck.

“Can we go upstairs?” he whispered. “Please, love.”

He felt your breath hitch as his lips touched your skin, but your voice was stern as you answered.

“This is not exactly what ‘behaving’ means.”

“I just… you're driving me crazy here.”

You sat up straighter, and it took all the self-control he had left not to moan at the pressure it applied to his aching cock. He was so desperate that he could spill in his pants like a little boy if you did that again.

“So it's my fault you can't wait a little longer?” you asked, raising a single eyebrow.

“You teased—”

Azriel drew up short as he realized his mistake. Of course it was his fault. If he grew restless in his desire to touch you, to kiss you, to have you, then it was his problem. But you didn't give him time to apologize.

“You know what happens if we go upstairs now, don't you?” you murmured, slow and deliberate. Despite your cool voice, the corner of your lips twitched upward, just slightly, a barely visible tick that was still enough to make Azriel's wings rustle in anticipation.

“Yes,” he whispered softly. “I do.”

Now your lips curled into a tantalizing smile. “Good. Then you can winnow us there.”

He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t say goodnight to the others, he didn’t wait for you to do it. No, as soon as you gave him permission, Azriel’s shadows curled tight around the two of you and winnowed you away.

He was holding you in his arms when you appeared in your shared bedroom, and he gently positioned you on the edge of the bed as if worried you might break. Then he just stood in front of you, shadows gone and wings tucked tight behind his back, waiting for you to speak.

You looked at him for a moment, your eyes lingering on the straining bulge in his pants. Azriel had to restrain himself from shifting on his legs in a useless attempt to create some friction. He needed your hands on him, your mouth, your whole body moving against his. But he had misbehaved, and he knew he was going to pay for it.

Your gaze finally met his hazel eyes, a smirk tugging at your lips. When you spoke, your voice was low and teasing. “Touch or be touched?”

Azriel could only stare at you with wide eyes. He had expected you to tease him some more until he was begging for more, to give him instructions on what to do and maybe even tie him to the bed with his own shadows. But his usual companions had vanished the moment he'd winnowed you, and he hadn’t considered that you might make him choose between touching you or being touched by you.

He opened his mouth to answer, but immediately closed it again.

You gave him an amused look as you waited for him to decide.

Just a moment ago, he had been desperate for your touch and the release only you could give him. He still was. But when faced with the choice between his pleasure and yours… he didn’t care how desperate he was. He would always choose you.

And you knew it too.

Before he could try to answer again, you leaned back on your hands and spread your legs in a silent invitation. A command you didn’t need to voice.

Azriel dropped to his knees. His fingers found the button of your pants and quickly undid it. As he slid your trousers down your legs, you pulled off your shirt and tossed it aside.

His tongue flicked out to wet his lips as his hands rested on the back of your knees. You were wearing a simple set of black lingerie, but you looked ravishing. Your soft skin was so inviting, the swell of your breasts calling to him, but the scent of your arousal reached his nose, diverting his attention to the panties still concealing your sex.

He didn’t know where to start and which part of your gorgeous body to touch first, but he knew he couldn’t leave you waiting. He didn’t want you to risk changing your mind and denying him the chance to worship you.

Eventually, Azriel reached for your bra, swiftly undoing the clasp as his lips trailed along your collarbone. He felt your shiver, but before he could take one of your perky nipples into his mouth, you clicked your tongue.

“Not my tits, Azriel.”

He looked up at you, brows slightly furrowed. “But you said I could—”

“I never said anything,” you replied with a smug smile.

Azriel was about to reply, but he held back. You were right, of course. You hadn't actually told him to touch you—or where. And you had spread your legs, which meant that was where you wanted him. He should have understood it earlier.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured, settling down on his knees again, scarred fingers already hooking into the waistband of your panties. “You're right, my love.”

You lifted your hips to help him take off the flimsy material, but just as his eyes settled on your cunt, you gently grabbed his chin and tilted his head up. “Now you're being a good boy,” you hummed. “I think you deserve a reward, don't you?”

His eyes lit up, heart beating faster at the prospect of whatever you were going to give him. If admitting he was wrong and you were right was all he had to do to earn your praise and your reward, then he'd gladly be wrong for the rest of his life.

You tugged his chin forward, and he eagerly followed, leaning in just as you leaned down. Your thumb brushed over his bottom lip and his lips parted in response. He held his breath, wondering what your next move would be.

You held his gaze for a few seconds, enough to let anticipation build in his chest, and just as he was about to squirm, you finally kissed him.

Your lips were soft and warm, moving against him as they'd done a thousand times before, yet it sent a thrill through his body every single time. You deepened the kiss, claiming his mouth and brushing your tongue against his. Azriel couldn't stop the small moan rising in his throat at touch, the sound quickly swallowed by your kiss. But then you pulled away, leaving him breathless and wanting.

Your hand released his chin, yet he tilted his head toward you as if to chase your retreating mouth.

You placed a finger against his lips as if to shush him. “That's not how it works,” you scolded, though your tone was amused. “You have to earn it first, pretty boy.”

And earn it he would.

Azriel's gaze dropped to your pussy, the delicate flesh just begging him to lick it, to taste it until you were utterly, completely satisfied.

He slipped his hands beneath your thighs to pull you closer to the edge of the bed and hold you open. And then he dove in.

You gasped softly at the first stripe he licked up your slit, and he groaned as your sweet arousal coated his tongue.

From that moment, Azriel lost himself in you.

He was aware of every little twitch of your hips, every sigh, every breathy moan that left your lips. Your fingers tangled in his curls, stroking his hair back from his forehead so you could hold his gaze while he feasted on you. And fuck if he didn’t love the way you looked down at him.

He knew your body as well as his own—if not better. He knew you would breathe a little more deeply when he pressed the flat of his tongue against your core, that your delicate walls would pulse around it when he pushed it inside, and that your eyelids would flutter every time he closed his lips around your clit and gently sucked. And the little sounds coming from you… Azriel felt his cock throb in the restraint of his pants.

“That’s it,” you breathed, shifting slightly to rock your hips against his face. “Don't stop...”

As if Azriel ever would.

Your words only spurred him on, and his grip tightened on your thighs. He lapped and licked and sucked like he was starved and only you could satiate his hunger, every cell in his body craving more of your praises, more of your soft whimpers and of your taste on his tongue.

He flicked your clit a few times, and then there it was—his favorite moment. Your moans grew louder, your fingers twisted and pulled on his hair, and you leaned back on one hand to have more leverage and grind your hips more insistently. But your eyes never left his, your heated gaze meeting his adoring one.

“Azriel,” you called, your voice firm enough that he almost squirmed in anticipation of the upcoming command. “Be a good boy and make me come.”

He was your good boy. He wanted to be your good boy forever.

He'd been waiting for your permission, and now that he had it, his tongue was relentless. He teased around your slit before sucking on your clit, rolling it between his lips and flicking it with the tip of his tongue as you squirmed in his grasp. He felt your body tense under his skilled touch, and he smiled against your skin.

A gasp and a whimper—the telltale signs of your impending orgasm—had him pull you closer still, and then you shuddered.

Your thighs quivered and tried to close, pressing on both sides of his head as he continued to lap at your dripping cunt, swallowing every drop of your release with a delighted groan. Your eyes fluttered shut, and as much as he missed the connection, Azriel couldn't help but admire your blissful expression—lips slightly parted, eyes half-closed, cheeks flushed.

He'd done that. He'd made you feel good once more, and he wanted to keep doing it again, over and over until you were thoroughly satisfied. Pride swelled up in his chest, but too soon, your body relaxed and you tugged on his hair in a silent request.

Though reluctantly, Azriel pulled his mouth away from you and licked his lips clean of any lingering trace of your arousal. When he met your gaze again, you were smiling down at him, eyes bright with amusement and lingering ecstasy.

You simply crooked a finger, beckoning him to lean closer, and when he did, you cupped his cheeks and guided him to his feet. Your lips collided once more, the kiss passionate and hungry as you pressed your body against his. The feeling of your breast brushing against his chest, even with his shirt still separating your skin from his, had him growing harder in his pants, his cock straining in its confinement and pressing against your lower stomach.

He’d been so focused on you that he had almost forgotten his own needs and desires, but now he was aching, growing more desperate with each brush of your tongue against his. He was tempted to start grinding against you just to create some much-needed friction.

But then your lips trailed up his jaw, each kiss burning against his skin until you whispered in his ear, “You’ve been so good for me, pretty boy. It’s time for your reward.”

“Yes, please…”

The words were out before he could stop them, but you didn't seem to mind. He felt your low chuckle skitter down his spine, and your soft nibble on his earlobe drew a quiet groan from him.

Your hands slid to his back, undoing the fastenings of his shirt around his wings, your touch only fueling the rising need inside him. He shuddered and gasped when your fingertips brushed the delicate membrane, his wings rustling softly behind him.

“My love…” he pleaded, though he wasn't even sure what he was asking for. For you to do it again, maybe, but properly this time, not just a fleeting touch. Or maybe to undress him faster and let him bury his cock inside you so he could finally find his release. He already knew he wasn’t going to last long, not with how desperate you had made him. But he didn’t care.

“Patience, pretty boy,” you murmured, your voice as sweet as honey. He was trembling with barely restrained need as you placed a kiss just below his ear. “You’ll get what you need. I promise.”

As if to prove your point, you undid his pants and pushed them down his legs. Your hand hovered near the straining bulge in his underwear, and he had to summon every ounce of self-control not to shift his hips those few inches and lean into your inviting palm.

You were testing him, and he knew it. He wasn't going to ruin whatever you had in mind for him just for this. You had promised he'd get what he needed, and he had no intention of making you change your mind.

He swallowed hard but stood still, his gaze locked on the center of your forehead. He wasn't sure he could hold back if he looked you in the eye.

But it was enough for you.

A satisfied smile tugged at your lips as you removed his underwear. Somehow, you managed not to touch his skin, just the fabric. It only made him crave you more.

Once he was fully naked, your gaze drifted down to his hard cock with a knowing smirk. “Someone's impatient,” you teased.

Azriel's fists clenched at his sides, but he didn't move. His skin felt too tight, as if his body couldn't contain the intensity of his need. A bead of precum welled at his tip, and he was about to beg you to please do something, anything, when you moved.

You placed your hand on his chest, gently pushing him back toward the bed. “Sit, my love.”

He did, sitting down on the edge of the mattress, right where you'd been until a few moments ago. He let his wings splay out behind him, resting on the bed like another set of dark sheets.

And then he held his breath as you wrapped your hands around his neck and slowly straddled him while never breaking eye contact. Yet he still gasped when you settled on his lap and his cock nestled between your slick folds. His hands instinctively gripped your waist, but he knew better than to shift his hips.

“I'm going to fuck you now,” you murmured, reaching down between the two of you.

“Yes… yes, fuck me,” he pleaded, unable to keep quiet any longer. “Please, my love.”

Instead of answering him, you closed your fingers around his cock, drawing a moan from him. You guided him to your entrance and kept your eyes locked on his as you slowly sank down on him.

You only bit your lip and sighed deeply, but for Azriel, the feeling of your tight cunt engulfing him was overwhelming. He groaned as your walls pulsed around him, warm and wet and so deliciously tight, and his fingers dug slightly into the soft flesh of your waist.

“You always feel so good,” you breathed. “I wish I could keep you inside me forever.”

He wanted to say it back, to tell you how good you felt around him. Good wasn't even close enough. And if he could stay inside you forever, he'd be the happiest man in the world.

But you began rocking your hips before he got a chance to say any of that, and the only sound that came out of him was a guttural groan.

You didn't hold back. You fucked him, just like you had promised.

You kept a hand around his neck and one behind you on his thigh as you alternated between bouncing on him and rolling your hips. Either way, your rhythm never faltered, nor did your gaze stray from his.

Azriel wasn't sure how much he could take. His groans and pants soon filled the silence of the room, accompanied by the sounds of your body moving on top of his. He tried not to squeeze you too tight, not to buck his hips and thrust up into you, but despite his desire to be your good boy and obey your every instruction, he was struggling.

Having you ride him was heavenly. Your breasts brushed against his chest with every movement and he wanted to reach out and either squeeze them or suck on them, but he needed your permission to do either of those things, and he was already too far gone to form the words he needed to ask for it.

Each time you lowered yourself onto his cock and took him, each time your pussy clenched around him, each quiet moan and small sigh from you brought him closer to his climax. His groans soon turned into whimpers.

“I… I need…”

You smiled at his struggle to talk, at the needy note in his voice. “What, my love?” you coaxed. “What do you need?”

Azriel fought to keep his eyes open and on you. “Come,” he mumbled. “Need to… come… please.”

“You need to come?” Your smile only widened, and your movements grew more insistent. “You want to come inside me? Is that what you want?”

“Yes…” He nodded desperately, feeling tension coil tight in his groin. He wasn't going to last any longer if you kept moving like that. “Please…”

You leaned closer to him until your noses brushed. “Then you can come,” you murmured, your voice low and intimate. “Come inside me, my love.”

Azriel didn't need any more encouragement. As you rocked your hips one more time, his cock throbbed inside you one last time before he found his release. He groaned and twitched beneath you, white spurts of seed flooding your cunt as he closed his eyes, letting the waves of undiluted pleasure wash through his body.

“That's it,” you praised softly, slowing your rocking to a gentle grinding. “Let go, pretty boy. Give it to me.”

He shuddered and trembled as you milked him for all he was worth. Yet even when he was spent and his eyes opened again and his grip on your waist loosened, you didn't stop.

You still moved, slowly, almost lazily. You drew him in for a kiss—soft and tender compared to the passion of the previous ones. Azriel was still panting, his lips sloppy against yours.

“Don't think we're done here,” you said when you broke the kiss. You let him rest his head against your breasts and threaded your fingers through his hair. “I'm going to keep riding you until you're hard again.”

Azriel was still lost in the bliss of his lingering orgasm. His answer was just a low purr as you stroked his hair. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer as he buried his face in your tits, a quiet whimper escaping him when you shifted around his sensitive cock.

“And then you're going to fuck me.”

He wasn't going to argue with that.

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[liahaslosthermind]

𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞!

Azriel x Historiographer!reader Summary: Azriel and his mate tried to tell his family about their mating bond. Unfortunately, arsonist nephews, tired (and frankly, scared) generals with a single eyebrow, and stressed out parents made the task seemingly impossible. Warnings: Inner Circle is obtuse, Nyx is vengeful, Rhys is kinda an asshole A/N: Reader’s job has little to nothing to do with the story, I just hate using “y/n” so I come up with loopholes to address the reader without using it. 

It had been 3 months since the Spy Master of the Night Court and Velaris’ Head Historiographer had stopped dancing around their feelings, 2 months since the mating bond had snapped between the two, and approximately 1 hour since they decided to tell their family. 

“They will be excited for us, my love.” She cooed, trying to fix the perpetual frown that adorned her mate’s face. “They will be annoying of course, they always are,” she grumbled, “but they will be happy. And they will finally stop worrying about whether or not you are going to die alone.” She teased, combing through Azriel’s hair as she tried to push it back, a style he hated but she absolutely loved. 

“I don’t see why we have to make it a thing.” Azriel replied, fixing his hair the second her hands left his head.

“A thing? You mean our mating bond? The one you prayed for every single day of your 500 year long life? You don’t want to make telling the most important people in your life into a thing?” 

“I just thought… maybe a surprise mating ceremony would be better.”

“Azriel, how do you think that will play out? ‘Surprise, we are mates and this is our mating ceremony! But don’t make it a big deal, we don’t want it turning into a thing!’” 

“Well, at the end of the ceremony we will disappear and go on vacation before they can say anything. That way they have time to cool down and we get to have a nice relaxing time together without their antics.” Azrel justified, or at least tried to.

The small smile that adored his lips while thinking about said vacation instantly dropped when she started laughing at him. 

“And what do you think will happen when we get back? If they don’t manage to crash our honeymoon just to get answers, then there will certainly be hell to pay when we come home. And I promise, it will end up being a much bigger thing than if we just told them tonight at dinner.” 

Azriel grumbled in response. She was right, of course, but it didn’t mean he looked forward to telling their family. He wasn’t ashamed of her, nor of the bond between them, how could he be? But Azriel never liked attention, it’s why his work was so perfect for him. But his family… they were nosy. They would make it a big deal and while, quite frankly, it was a big deal, Azriel wasn’t looking forward to the show. 

Fortunately for him, the Inner Circle was also far too obtuse at times, though this time it wasn’t really their fault.

Feyre and Rhysand had recently discovered that Nyx could Winnow. This happened about a month prior when Feyre went to wake her son up from his nap and found his cradle to be empty. After 45 minutes of panicked searching alongside Rhys, Mor, Elain, Lucien, Cassian, Nesta, Azriel, and a few of the priestesses, Feyre found her son in the arms of Amren, who had discovered him in front of her apartment door an hour prior. 

Baby Nyx loved his aunt Amren more than anyone else, much to the chagrin of his parents and the rest of their family. 

In the past month, various wards had been implemented to stop the High Lord and Lady’s child from disappearing again, but they have also had to deal with the various other abilities that seemingly manifested since. 

When Azriel and his mate finally made it to dinner, Cassian had one eyebrow and an already healing burn, Mor was missing a couple inches of hair that had seemingly been singed off, both Feyre and Rhys had eyebags like never before, and a very content Nyx was sat on the lap of a gloating Amren. 

“I hope we didn’t miss all the fun!” the historiographer joked, hoping to lighten the tense mood in the dining room. 

“Oh, you missed the show, but I’d be more than happy to recount the details for you.” Nesta spoke up, cackling when she looked at her one-eyebrowed mate who hadn’t stopped pouting since the incident. 

As the two late comers sat down and started to eat, the tension in the room didn’t cease. In fact, it seemed to get worse every time Nesta broke out into giggles when looking at Mor and Cassian. 

After far too many seconds of painful silence, Azriel received a kick on the leg from his mate. Looking at her, she hissed what he assumed to be a few “encouraging” words about him growing a pair. 

After taking a deep breath, Azriel cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the entire table. 

“We have been meaning to talk to you all about something. Now, I know things around here have been… rather tense. But hopefully this good news will-”

“One second-” The High Lord interrupted as a note appeared before him. Upon reading the missive, he groaned before passing it to Feyre, the letter eliciting the same reaction from her as well. “Madja got us in touch with a healer who specializes in High Fae child development. He says that this thing with Nyx is normal at this stage, especially with powerful parents, and that the powers displayed might not even stay. It's like the Mother is testing which abilities Nyx will have, and we haven’t even gotten to the worst of it yet.” Rhysand grumbled, his hand going through his uncharacteristically unruly hair. 

“Well when the two most powerful fae in Prythian love each other very much…” Mor started. 

“They curse the rest of their family by creating the most vengeful baby the world has ever seen.” Cassian hissed. After a kick on the shin from Feyre, and a smack on the chest from Nesta, he quickly added, “Not that we don’t love you Nyx. You are the light of all our lives and blah blah blah.” After an additional glare from Rhys, Cassian yelled: “He can’t even understand me! It's not like he knows what I am-” the general abruptly stopped talking when his salad caught on fire, causing the baby on Amren’s lap to start laughing. 

After the Shadows made quick work out of putting out the fire, Azriel spoke up once more, “As I said, I know you all have a lot going on right now-”

“No kidding.” Nesta interrupted. “I keep having to fight the camp lords to allow my Valkyrie to compete in the Blood Rite and I swear every time I bring it up they find new ways to make our life harder.” 

“I am sorry to hear that Nesta, but like Azriel said I think this news will-”

“The Illyrians are a backwards group that won’t respond to being asked to change their ways. I keep telling Rhysand he needs to be harder on them.” Azriel interrupted his mate. She would have been more upset had she not known how sore of a subject Illyrians and their beliefs were for her mate. 

“Azriel, we have discussed this before. You are letting your hatred of them get in the way of logical thinking. They won’t respond to abrupt changes either, you need to let me do my job.” Rhysand argued. 

Before Azriel could argue back, he felt a supportive squeeze on his hand from the female beside him, gently guiding him back on track. “Look, I am not here to discuss Illyria. If you all could just stay silent for a moment then-” 

Fire seized Cassian’s shoulder, most likely in response to the lighthearted glares he had been sending his nephew. While the leathers protected his skin from the heat, a chunk of his long brown locks had not been as fortunate. 

“Alright, clearly this isn’t working out for Nyx. It’s past his bedtime anyway, maybe we should call it quits.” Feyre spoke up, sending an apologetic look to Cassian. 

“If you all would give me just a moment-” Azriel started.

“Look, it's been stressful around here for us, Az. I promise I will listen to whatever shit you need to complain or argue about another day.” Rhysand interrupted. While the silence that followed would have given Az the opportunity to correct his brother’s, rather rude, assumption, his mate stopped him before he could speak up. 

“You know what, you’re right, tonight isn’t the night for any family discussions. We wouldn’t want to bother you all with our lives. Have a good night.” In the many years Rhysand had known the Head Historiographer of his court, and the many years since they had become friends- almost family, he had never heard her speak in such a tone. But before anyone else could get a word in, her and Azriel had disappeared into the shadows. 

Back at her apartment, Azriel watched as his mate, seething in anger, paced in front of the fireplace. 

“I cannot believe he really insinuated all you were trying to do was argue or complain when you specifically said it was good news! What a childish, egotistical, brat!” 

“My love, he is going through a lot with Nyx right now-”

“That does NOT give him the right to talk to you like that! If he were to speak to Cassian that way, Nesta would have bitten his head off. I mean how many times had he lost it when Nesta and Feyre fought? Gods, I should have really laid it on him. It is totally unacceptable that he-” Her impassioned rant was suddenly cut off by an equally as passionate kiss. 

Suddenly, she couldn’t have cared less about what the High Lord had to say. All that existed in that moment was her and her mate. 

When the two separated, all negative emotions had been depleted, the only care being the golden string that attached one soul to the other.  

“How about this,” Azriel spoke, still breathless from the kiss the two had shared, “We can make a game out of it. We tried telling them, how about now we just make it as obvious as possible without explicitly stating anything, and see how long it takes them to figure it out.” He suggested.

“And if they are truly too obtuse to catch on?” She asked.

“We can give them the time it takes to plan a proper mating ceremony. If by then they still haven’t figured it out, then we can go with my original plan. That way they can’t be upset because it would be their fault for not catching on, and we get to have fun.” 

“A part of me kind of hopes they don’t catch on now.” She giggled. 

“Oh, trust me, unless we spell it out for them, they won’t know a thing.” Azriel replied. 

A/N: I have ideas for part two, but I also have 1,000 other ideas and projects half written, so let me know if you would like a sequel!

Edit: Read Part 2 here!

[daycourtofficial]

Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one - part three

Pairing: Eris x reader x Azriel | WC: 3.3k | warnings: general angst, some violence

Summary: after a week of avoiding talking to him, Azriel invites you out for a meeting that only leaves you with a more urgent sense of jealousy

Author’s note: happy new year’s eve!! I know it hasn’t been too long since the last part, but I wanted to spread some holiday joy! This year has been awful but my time online and the friends I’ve met through here have been so lovely and kind and you guys have gotten me through a lot do here’s some pain!

Last part | Next part | Masterlist

Your conversation with Nesta left you reeling, some deep part of you rattled at her words. A deep loneliness settled in you after she left, a swirling storm of anger and jealousy threatening to fester into a hurricane out on the balcony.

‘He’s a challenge on his best days.’

Why had the Mother given her most loyal follower a mate who was so difficult? Weren’t mates supposed to be a blessing?

Rhys and Feyre, Nesta and Cassian - they all had their own fair share of turbulence. You remembered the stories from Mor about Feyre throwing her shoes at Rhysand, or Nesta’s seemingly complete apathy around Cassian.

The journals left you confused, both smitten and giddy and a deep questioning of should it be this hard? Azriel and Eris had already seen the worst of each other and still chose and defended their bond. Would the same be said of you if Azriel saw your faults? Or would one flawed mate be enough for him?

Would another fae be able to look past your status as a second choice? Would you be able to even look at other fae if Azriel rejected you?

It had only been a few weeks since the bond had snapped for you, but in that time you didn’t notice other fae. They were just background characters, no one in particular ever catching your notice.

Except Eris. That was nothing though - merely Azriel’s feelings about him swirling within you.

None of it made any sense, your body subconsciously leaving the balcony and moving to find Azriel, repeating to yourself that an answer laid in one of his journals. You stopped by your room to gather the journal before following the bond to find the shadowsinger alone in the library. He looked incredible - his large wings stretched out over the black leather, the definition of his body evident through his loose fitting clothes. He was hunched over a small table, flipping through a book and jotting things down on the paper next to him. All your time spent reading this past week made his handwriting a familiar sight.

“Hi Az.” You stopped before him, presenting him with your most recently finished journal. This one had contained much the same - fighting between Eris and Azriel, occasional snippets about Cassian and his drunken antics. It seemed Eris and Azriel were in a constant cycle of never getting too close, one or the other always finding some fault to keep their distance.

He accepted it wordlessly, the replacement journal ready in his lap. How you hadn’t noticed it says more about the focus of your attention than you would like.

“Expecting me?”

“You usually find me around this time.” He huffed, the slight smile on his face enough to know he’s being light hearted. You took the new journal, about to turn on your heel when you spotted the empty chair next to Azriel. You waited a moment, turning back to find him still looking at you. Your chest felt tight with vulnerability, looking back to the empty chair, something inside of you begging to sit in his presence.

It felt like a good sign finding him in the open. You usually found him in his room, his door closed in front of you once the exchange was made. But now he sat on display, his own work spread out before him. You weren’t certain you had ever seen him work so openly.

You took the sign as an invitation, sitting in a chair opposite him, the spine a harsh crack in the silent room. He did nothing more than watch, hazel eyes tracking the delicacy and respect you showed to the journal before looking back to his own notes.

It was silent save for the turning of pages and his scrawling. It felt so warm being in his presence, sharing this time with him. It was so easy to get lost in it that the next time you looked up you realized he had pulled out a fresh journal, scribbling away in it. It was a cleaner version of the one you spent every night hunched over, staying up until the last word was comprehensible to your sleep-addled brain.

“Have you ever done that in front of someone before?” You croaked the words out, throat dry from your lack of water in hours, too afraid if you got up, your return would show an empty room.

“No, I haven’t.” His scrawl hadn’t stopped, and you straightened up, trying to catch a glance of what he was writing, if your name made an appearance. Shadows swirled at the top of his journal, obscuring your vision. You looked at the shadow, a cross expression trying to threaten them. They only seemed to dance more rapidly, in agitation or preening beneath your gaze, you weren’t sure.

“None of that.”

You sank back deflated, surprised you were caught. Picking up the journal once more, you flicked to the page you had left off at, settling back in.

“You’ll see this one soon enough.” The book snapped shut at his words as you readjusted to sit back up.

“I will?” Azriel only nodded, finally looking up at you instead of the pages of his journal. His eyes darted around the room before a shadow curled around his ear. Whatever the shadow told him, he relaxed a little, his posture easing into his seated position.

“I gave them to you to understand Eris and I’s relationship. But I think it’s impossible to figure out this situation without getting completely up to date.”

You nearly salivated at the thought of Azriel’s present journals. To know what he’s thought about you this whole time, in his own words, even without knowing about the bond? Priceless.

He had said he had been interested in you, drawn to you.

Azriel smiled, a soft pulsing of the thread around your heart. Tonight had been a step forward - you didn’t want to push your luck and find out if he was pulling the cord tight in reassurance or suffocation. You kept the question to yourself, nestling into the chair and the comfort of Azriel’s scent.

-

Mindless chatter moved across the breakfast table, your eyes constantly flickering to Azriel. It was impossible to keep them off of him, his emotions roiling in your chest kept you up half the night once you had retired from the library. You had been avoiding him for a week now, and the hours spent in his company reminded you of just how nice it was to linger in his presence.

This past week had been an anomaly, one you weren’t certain your friends had noticed or not. Azriel was usually a source of company at some point during your day - a meal, transportation, or just someone to go out walking Velaris with you.

If this past week showed you anything, it was how ingrained into your daily life Azriel had become.

You looked at him again, your eyes lingering on the lack of sleep beneath his eyes. He was tired. You couldn’t pinpoint it exactly- it wasn’t in his face or in his movements. Was it the bond? Was it your late night insomnia that kept him up?

Could mating bonds do that?

“Azriel, what time are you leaving?” Rhys’s question brought you from your focused gaze, waiting to hear Azriel’s response. So focused on Azriel, you hadn’t bothered pretending to even eat or notice Cassian’s glances to his own mate.

“I’m leaving in the afternoon.” Azriel’s head turned to you, his hazel eyes capturing yours in a gaze you couldn’t look away from. Where was he going? You had been so wrapped up in your thoughts you had missed the beginning of the discussion.

“I think it would be better if you came with me.” The table had turned quiet, the clattering of cutlery pausing for just a moment, all eyes slowly directed your way, waiting for your response.

So they’ve noticed this weirdness between you two.

“Are you sure, Az?” Azriel didn’t look away from you at Rhysand’s question, merely waiting for your response. Something in you was drawn to his gaze, wanting to linger in it for the rest of your days. His eyes held such softness, a look he reserved just for you.

And his other mate. The bitter thought made you grimace. Azriel and Eris had something real, something tangible that they fought for every single day.

But surely the moments in the library were also real. Not as intense or passionate, but full of a warmth you had hardly experienced before, a domesticity many would dream about.

“Yes, I will. Where are we going?”

Azriel was quick to answer, one of his shadows nearly muffling Rhysand’s voice so Azriel could be the one to respond.

“I have a meeting with Eris.” You were too focused on Azriel’s face to notice Nesta’s eyes widen imperceptibly on the other side of the table.

-

Your fingers tapped against your thigh, an anxiety coursing through you at the thought of seeing Eris again. He was something - a sharp face, even sharper tongue, decadently dressed. You hated to admit it, but you could understand why the Mother had mated him to Azriel - the two were quite possibly the most gorgeous fae in all of Prythian.

You had stayed up late again pouring over Azriel’s journals. Each notebook left you more and more territorial over him, romance pouring through every page. It was so different from the books Nesta read - the fictitious couple having grandiose gestures, no depiction of how the day to day worked.

But Azriel’s notebook was filled with longing for Eris. Recaps of long conversations they have had, almost word for word detailings of what they spoke about.

They had been together for a little over a century by now. They both fought it - Azriel all but withdrew from his family, avoiding them for over a year while he figured it out.

It took nearly a decade for them to come to terms with it - one of them never quite ready to dive in, both playing the hesitant role at different points.

It seemed one day Eris just snapped. Tired of talking in circles and exhausting every avenue, he went for it. He kissed Azriel and it spiraled from there, consummating the bond. It was a romantic tale of longing and distance and overcoming any and all odds for each other.

A story you had no business playing a part in.

Azriel pulled you from your thoughts, reaching out a hand to winnow the pair of you away. You took it, remembering all too well the last time you were gathered in his arms.

You both rematerialized in a densely packed forest, the trees so close together it was difficult to move between. You steadied yourself against Azriel, hands pressed to his broad chest. Winnowing yourself anywhere wasn’t an issue, but someone else winnowing you left you unmoored, your feet unable to find solid ground for a few seconds. The bond tightened around your heart, the beat of it speeding up at the contact.

“Come to gloat?” Your head whipped towards Eris as you yanked your hands from Azriel’s chest. You didn’t notice Azriel bringing his hands back up, reaching for you, trying to keep you close.

But Eris did. He schooled his features, looking toward Azriel with hardened eyes.

“No, I brought her so we can figure this out.”

Eris scoffed, the sound loud enough to be heard over the bird song high above the group. He stomped forward in a direct path towards Azriel, a trail of smoke in his wake.

His long red hair flowed behind him as he moved, reflecting the light of the sun so beautifully the homes of the Autumn Court could be full of portraits of the male before you and his beauty would still surprise. Your heart hammered in your chest, unable to look away from him.

“I’m sure that’s exactly what you’ve been up to this past week. Trying to figure this out with her, shutting off your bond to me.” The last words came out as a whisper, the underlying accusation one Eris couldn’t bear to say. He looked almost hurt as he said it.

“Er-“ Eris cut Azriel off, pushing his back into a tree, his hands curling into the leathers. Your feet followed the action, a hot sense of protectiveness overcoming you.

“No, Azriel. You don’t get to play house with her and show up here with her.”

“She can hear you, ya know.” You pushed Eris off of Azriel, the male staggering back in shock at your actions.

“How sweet. What a waste of my time to be here if you’re going to tell me you’ve finally picked someone else when you’ve had a century to do so.”

Azriel reached out for Eris, his grip tight around Eris’s forearm. Eris tried to push Azriel away from him, but his hand remained around Eris. He pulled the redhead closer, his thumb slowly stroking over his mate’s skin. It felt so intimate you wanted to look away.

“Eris, I am not picking her. I am trying to figure this out.” Azriel’s words stung, no matter how pragmatic they were. A teeny, tiny part of you wanted to blurt out to Eris about the journals, certain it would send the Autumn male out of your life for good. The action stayed in your mind at the betrayal Azriel would feel.

Some part of you knew something so hurtful would end in Azriel having no mates.

“‘Figure this out’? What is there to figure out? Which one of us you would pick?”

“No!” Azriel’s rebuttal was frantic, his lack of sleep more prominent now in the sunlight. It didn’t stop the sun from highlighting how gorgeous his brown skin was, though. “Can’t you think past your own self for five minutes and realize my soul, my entire being is connected to the both of you?”

The words did something to Eris, causing him to finally look at you. You couldn’t help the heat rushing to your cheeks beneath his gaze, a small part of you hoping he finds something interesting. You straightened, taking the time to look over him as well. It was nearly unfair how good he looked in his riding clothes. His shirt opened just enough to see his collarbone and the top of his sternum, his pale chest decorated with freckles. His loose, billowy shirt tucked into some well fitting trousers, thighs nearly ripping the fabric.

He wasn’t as big as Azriel - a bit shorter and not nearly as broad, but he was lean and strong, and you were certain they both threw each other around the bedroom with ease.

“I suppose severing this bond would mean lifelong consequences for you.” Eris spoke to Azriel, but kept his gaze on you as he walked toward you. Heat crept up your body the closer he got, each step raising the temperature by ten degrees. It was nearly unbearable by the time he stood in front of you, so close you had to look up at him.

Eris’s anger made him more beautiful - the sharpness of his face poised and ready for attack, the red shades of anger perfectly matching his skin and hair.

Heat coursed around your neck, the flames dancing across your skin. You were enraptured with Eris, this moment only for the two of you. You could hear Azriel start to object, but paid him no notice, your full attention on Eris.

“I could end it all now, remove the most painful thorn in my side you’ve been.”

You smiled up at him, overcome with a new feeling of competition. The flames around your neck tightened, but you kept on, stepping infinitesimally closer to Eris.

“If my mere existence is a pain to you now, just wait until I’ve decided you’re worth the effort to bother. You’ve only known me for a week and already I’m worth your ire.”

“Go home to Velaris. Go be a small town healer and find a small town male for you to fake your orgasms with.”

Your jaw dropped and you felt Azriel’s hands wrap around your upper arms, trying to pull you back, but you rooted yourself to the ground, pulling from his grasp.

“At least my constituents will look me in the eye out of respect and not fear. At least my patients know I had to work for my job and that I wasn’t given it because of my father!”

The flames were choking now, your breaths coming in hard and shallow. You were trying to fight it, to win whatever this was, but breathing harder and harder, fresh air a luxury you couldn’t remember.

“Eris!” Azriel all but growled as he wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling you into him. You reached up, trying to pull the collar off, tried to get any air, but it was impossible.

“The Mother is absurd for mating Azriel with someone so foolish who speaks of things she knows nothing about.” Eris relinquished his power as you sagged into Azriel’s arms, but Eris cupped a hand around your jaw. His eyes burned with fury and something you couldn’t quite make out, the amber color replaced with the blown pupils of his ire.

“Az, come back to me when you’ve decided the bitch isn’t worth your time.”

Chest heaving, you squared your jaw, a rebuttal on your tongue, but Eris had turned, walking into the trees before disappearing completely into them.

He was everything Nesta had warned you he was. He was cruel, difficult, and maddening.

And if the Mother wanted Azriel to pick one of you, you would do whatever it took to beat out Eris Vanserra for Azriel’s affections.

You’re stuck so deep in your head, you don’t even notice Azriel winnow the two of you back to the House of Wind, the two of you landing in the dining room. You turned to ask him about Eris, to talk to him about how ridiculous his mate was, but Azriel had dropped your arm, winnowing away immediately after. Your hand instinctively reached out for the shadows, but it was too late.

He was gone and he left you here.

You sighed, not knowing what you expected him to do. Coddle you? Tell you Eris didn’t mean his threats? Tell you Eris is a big meanie head?

You shook the thought away, your steps soft as you made your way through the house, a journal calling your name to pour through.

Your adrenaline was wearing off, the grime of the forest stuck to your clothes making the bathtub’s siren song call to you from many rooms away.

“How was your meeting with Eris?” Nesta’s voice found you as you were about to climb the stairs, one foot raised. You spun on your heel to look at her, her face indecipherable. Just his name filled you with anger and confusion once more. How was it him that had received Azriel’s affections?

“He’s worse than you made him seem. Vile and cruel, just like everyone says.” You spat the words at her, not receiving the reaction you wanted from her. Nesta only raised her eyebrows as her nose twitched.

“Are you sure?” Your anger had flared too much to notice her strange tone or the look in her eye.

“I’m positively certain. Anyone having to spend time with that awful, awful male is a saint or somehow even worse than he is.”

She approached you, her eyes lingering on your neck. You weren’t certain if you had scorch marks or not, unsure if Eris’s wickedness scarred. She was quiet as she looked at you, eyes of silver intense as they locked onto yours. You weren’t sure if she found what she was looking for or not before she brushed past you to go to her own chambers, her words quiet in the stillness of the house.

“If you say so.”

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

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[ambivalence-is-me]

The Lost Princess

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: Your life drastically changes after meeting Feyre. You don’t know how to help, you don’t know much of anything really so, how is your life going to be now? In a city you didn’t know existed with people you thought you hated.

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: manipulation, perhaps some self-loathing issues, slow burn. This is just like a prologue of their first impressions of each other.

A/N: this is HEAVILY inspired by Glinda from Wicked. I’ve been obsessed ever since I saw it. I wanted that sort of superficial clueless character vibe and this came out. I’ve got so many other ideas so just hear me out okay lol

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

You were a fool. A useless fool...and they knew that.

But you didn't want to be one. No, you wanted needed to prove you weren’t a fool. Prove it to them and to yourself.

It wasn’t your fault, even if they didn’t know it but you knew that it wasn’t your fault you had been so...lost.

They didn’t know about all the lies and manipulation you’ve gone through at the hands of your brother.

Your brother, who was probably the one male after the King of Hybern that was so hated, the Inner Circle’s number two enemy..Tamlin.

Let’s backtrack a little...

You are nothing like Tamlin, personality and physically speaking. The only trait you two seemed to share is the shade of green eyes. Hair, facial features, even height, seemed to set you apart from him. And you’ve never been more thankful for it.

Personality wise, while Tamlin seemed to damper every path and flower he passed, you had the opposite effect. A true daughter princess of Spring. You were bubbly, carefree, perky and just so full of life. It had annoyed Feyre at the start. She met you a few days after she had been taken from the mortal lands and forced to live at the Manor. You seemed to appear out of freaking nowhere in a pink dress, small tiara on top of your head and on your face a mask that seemed to be of a dove, beautiful white and gold interlaced throughout it. It was all sunshine and rainbows as if you had come down in a freaking bubble or something.

It irritated Feyre how you walked around and interacted with everyone with such joy when everyone else, especially her, seemed to be on high alert and tense but that tension seemed to leave whenever your presence was by. Feyre couldn’t get any answers from you whenever you conversed. She wanted to know everything about the fae lands, including how to get out, anything but you just didn't know. And later you both learned that it hadn't been Amarantha’s fault but your brothers’.

During Amarantha’s reign you had lived in a bubble (methaphorically speaking). You couldn't remember why one day you woke up wearing a mask, one you couldnt get rid of or even think about why you were wearing it. You didn’t know who was the evil red female who had proclaimed herself High Queen of Prythian or what she had done to all the lands and its people. Nor did you know of your father’s involvement in killing Rhysand’s family and especially didn’t know how he (and your mother and brothers) had been murdered by Rhysand’s father. All of this had gone underperceived by you for decades.

Truthfully, you weren't even supposed to be alive but were meant to suffer your mother’s fate at the hands of Rhysand’s father. And after learning the truth and re-meeting Rhysand properly, looking at the pain and grief hidden behind his violet eyes, you knew it too.

Tamlin, seemingly perceptive of what was coming after what his father had done to Rhysand’s mother and sister, suggested to your father to send you away, hide you far away where they couldn’t find and murder you. It had worked but you couldn't remember where you had been or with who, that part of your life was as if never happened.

After becoming High Lord and Amarantha starting her advances, he went even further to secure your protection and took you somewhere where he knew the sort of people who lived there would help him make sure that you followed every word and instruction he gave. He had them put a spell on you, he had cursed you.

Cursed to forget about the death of your family, cursed to overlooked Amarantha, cursed dismiss the danger they lived in, cursed to believe and follow every word he said, cursed to refrain from thinking too much, to question things, cursed to be clueless. For years.

Feyre thought it was an act. How you looked at everything so positively and nothing could go wrong but then she knew that it wasn’t.

It was never an act, you truly were clueless, but it wasn’t your fault. You were just another one of Tamlin’s victims.

Thats why Feyre gave you a chance. Besides the fact that everything seemed to go over your head, you are a nice, caring, empathetic female. After she was Made, Feyre gravitated more towards you, preferred your company over Ianthe's, sought you out after arguing with Tamlin or Lucien and while you never understood what she had gone through, the trauma and burden she carried (because of the curse), you never turned her away.

Tamlin had noticed how deep your friendship had gotten. And since he knew Feyre was to be taken away at one point by Rhysand because of that stupid bargain, he knew he had to turn you against Rhysand so you could in turn continue to feed into Feyre’s apprehension of the High Lord of the Night Court. How did he do that? He told you the truth...well, some of it.

He revealed the death of your family. He emphasized how merciless it had been and how Rhysand was the only one to blame.

You cried...for hours you wept and screamed. Your mother, your beautiful mother was dead all this time. You had thought she was off in another court with your father accompanying him with some lord duties but instead she had been murdered in cold blood, and you didn't even know.

Feyre knew then that she much preferred to see you smiling and laughing than to see you so heartbroken, to hear your cries was devastating.

And Tamlin had succeeded.

You became so incredibly fearful of the Night Court’s High Lord that you begged Feyre to break the bargain, to never look his way, to hate the cruel and soulless male who had taken your family away from you. And in return, Feyre had hated Rhysand, hated him so much for making you cry, for dimming your light. She also had fallen under Tamlin’s trap. But of course, that all changed.

It changed when it didn't get any better for Feyre, when Tamlin’s actions were feeding into her pain, when he locked her inside the Manor. You of course had no idea he had done this; you didn't even recall when Morr had rescued her. You heard the explosion and when you arrived at the scene, Feyre was already gone. Tamlin had been furious and told you Rhysand was to blame, that he had kidnapped your friend and that he had to find and bring her back.

You, of course thanks to the curse, believed him and you were extremely worried for her. Fear ran through your body and you prayed everyday to the Mother that no harm would come to her, that she weren’t suffering your mother’s fate.

Months passed and you remained none the wiser to what was happening outside the Manor’s walls. Whispers of war roomed the halls, some kind of Hybern involved, you hardly saw your stressed brother. Lucien being the one to accompany you at times for dinner. But he never revealed anything, of the war, of Feyre and you continued to stay clueless and out of the loop.

It wasn’t like you didn't want to know or that you didn't try. You did, you tried to ask around, to the servants, the sentries, but they all knew the spell you were under and knew better than to reveal anything Tamlin didn't want you to know. And you hated it. You felt so frustrated that you were doing meaningless things around the Manor while your friend, your only friend, was off in another court probably being tortured and you weren't doing anything to help her. After Tamlin had popped part of your bubble, you felt the need to be more hands on but you just didn't know where to start. At one point, you tried writing down the whispers you heard, along with questions you had, or any information obtained, and you tried to piece it all together by yourself. But nothing made sense. Nothing would continue to make sense when your brother had the power to take knowledge away from you.

Everything started to change for you with Feyre’s return. You were delighted that she was back, that your brother had rescued her from the Night Court. You hugged her so hard that for a second Feyre had forgotten her plan to ruin Tamlin. She remembered all the time both spent together, remembered and felt the care you had for her. And it was then that she knew that somehow she had to convince you to run away with her, to help you ruin your brother. After all of the things she went through in Velaris, all the knowledge and new perspective she gained, Feyre recognized you to be another prey fallen into Tamlin’s claws.

And you needed to get out. But by then, she didn’t know of the curse that was befallen on you. All she knew is that you believed every little word Tamlin uttered, that you blindly followed his every instruction, and she couldn't believe how she had never pieced the pieces together before. So, with more conviction than ever, under the wards and glamours in her bedroom at the Manor, Feyre told you everything. Of Amarantha's curse, what your family had done to Rhysand, what Tamlin did to her, of Velaris and the Inner Circle, Hybern, her mating bond, her sisters being Made and even of her plans to destroy the Spring Court. Slowly, Feyre took off the blindfold that had been forcedly put on you for decades. She talked and you listened, tears running down your face, for hours. Well into the night and again when the sun came up.

It was extremely difficult to believe her. How could you? When everything she was saying went against everything your brother had told you. Feyre knew that risk, that you wouldn't believe her but she held nothing back. She answered all your questions, worries and even hugged you.

You promised Feyre you wouldn't tell a word to anyone of what she had expressed. And you kept that promise but it didn't mean that you still full heartedly believed her. You wanted to, something inside you was screaming that it was the truth and that you had been an idiot to believe Tamlin.

But you couldn't understand, if Feyre was telling the truth then, why Tamlin had lied? Why had he kept so much from you? Tamlin, your older brother who fiercely protected you when you were a child, would read to you at nights, played with you, gave you attention when the rest of your brothers only ignored you. He was your favorite brother, your first hero, the first male you had told ‘’I love you’’ too. How can you change this image you have of him so fast when for all of your life he had been your rock? How can someone who claimed to love you do the complete opposite of love? You couldn't understand.

But then you remembered he lied about your family’s death, kept that from you. And using the same train of thought then that means, yes he could have hid so much more from you. And before making any decision in regards to following Feyre, you tried, just one more time, to get information out of your brother.

You asked him one question ‘’How did you find Feyre?’’.

He had looked up at you and said : ‘’It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that she’s here now and that she’s safe. Keep her company and help in whatever she needs. You will do that right, sister?’’.

The spell made you nod without you even being aware that you were nodding and replied ‘’Of course, brother. I will help Feyre with anything she needs.’’

He smiled and dismissed you.

That did it for you. You couldn't explain why you had accepted his truth so fast, why you didn't question him further, why your mind seemed to be battling itself. It was maddening.

And so, you agreed to be part of Feyre’s plan to run away. She told you she was to accompany Lucien, the twins and Jurian to the forest. As per usual, you were expected to stay in the Manor while everyone did, well, everything else. But this time, when everyone left, you were to grab a bag with essentials and leave. Feyre pointed out a meeting spot where you were to wait for her there and then continue the path to the Night Court.

It was the most terrifying thing you had ever done.

‘’What about my guard?’’ You asked her, worried about your escape since Tamlin had appointed a sentry to be your guard whenever he or Lucien weren't in the Manor.

‘’I’ll take care of it. Just meet me there and wait. No matter what you hear, wait for me there. I will come find you, I promise’’.

And she had been right. Whatever she had done to your guard well, she took care of it since there didn't seem to be any near you, making your exit far smoother than you expected. Even if inside you were terrified, every neuron in your brain screamed at you to go back inside the Manor and wait for Tamlin. But you pushed through, for Cauldron’s sake did you push through. Every step away from the Manor, from Tamlin seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, making it hard for you to continue, as if there was an invisible force trying to pull you back (the curse).

When you made it to the meeting point you cried. You were feeling an immense amount of fear of this new life you were heading towards to. You were also feeling proud of yourself for committing and making it there but then the fear came back when hours went by and there was no sign of Feyre. You waited, just like you said, no matter if you were terrified of being alone in the woods. In the same woods you now knew ran part of Amarantha’s creatures. You were honest to the Mother about to piss yourself out of fear when you heard her. Feyre, she was coming. And she was not alone.

Lucien ran with her and they both looked worse for wear. You barely managed to speak when she grabbed your hands and urged you to run, tagging you along with them. You saw Lucien’s expression; he was probably confused by your involvement in all of this and he was worried of what would happen to you since he knew of the limitations of the curse. And yet, he stayed quiet and ran along with you both.

It was extremely hard for you to keep along with them. They were fighters, they were fit, they’ve been in battle before, but not you. You were just..well...a princess. You knew nothing of survival or fighting skills and they all knew that but they also knew they couldn't stop if they wanted to stay alive, to fulfill Feyre’s plans.

And made it you had.

With some great trouble along the way involving Lucien’s brothers but thankfully two Illyrian soldiers quite literally fell from the sky and rescued the three of you out of there.

Azriel and Cassian, Feyre had introduced.

And you of course took one look at them and nearly fainted. You were trying so hard not to show your fear but knew you were failing spectacularly. You’ve heard of their kind, from your father and Tamlin, of how ruthless they were, how they had no respect for females and enjoyed tearing them apart. But no, Feyre trusted them, had expressed there was nothing to fear, that they wouldn't harm you. And while everything inside you that was holding you back in Spring was telling you that it was a lie, you tried and believed her.

And now here you were. In this city you’ve never heard of, in a court where only bad things have been said, with only two other faes you knew, surrounded by others who apparently aren't evil at all. After all, in their eyes, you were the evil one, you were the villain in their story.

You met them all, the inner circle and they all stared at you. It was clear that they didn't trust you nor Lucien. But the way they treated you was different. With you it was like they didn't know how to treat you, as if they didn't know what to do with you. And well, you didn't know what to do with you either.

You were a fool, a useless fool.

They figured that out the moment Morrigan began asking questions and all you did was stare at her, mouth a bit open. Because of course, you didn't know the answer to any of her questions and you could see they were growing exasperated with you.

They all showed it differently. Rhysand hadn't met your eye once since you’ve been in the room, his jaw firm and looking anywhere else but you. The Morrigan vividly rolled her eyes at you and instead moved her attentions to Lucien. A smaller female than you with silver glowing eyes had taken one look at you and shook her head. Cassian, the big male with long hair and red jewels, was openly glaring and eyeing Lucien with distaste. And then, Azriel.

The most handsome male you’ve ever seen in all your life. While Rhysand and Cassian were also handsome, Azriel was a different type of handsome. One you couldn't quite explain. The best way your heart could capture it was by thinking that he was like the prince you always thought you’d end up married to. The handsome male described in those romance books you read. The one you hoped had a dazzling personality you longed for, to swept you off your feet and leave you breathless. And he did definitely leave you breathless but not in the way a female wants.

Right off the bat you’ve noticed that Azriel was quiet, the quietest of them all. He seemed to be analyzing everything, blending into the shadows that followed his every breath. And although he hadn't spoken your way once, his body language screamed that he wanted nothing to do with you.

And that hurt.

These people didn't owe you anything. On the contrary, you were the one invading their home, their safe space, you were the enemy so the least you could do is...what? Exactly what were you expected to do?

This only seemed to aggravate you further.

They don't know you, they don't know your heart, quite frankly besides existing, you’ve done nothing to harm any of them. Your hands and your heart were clean. And you didn't know this but that is exactly why Azriel, Rhysand and the rest had a hard time looking your way and accepting you.

You’ve done nothing. While they’ve gone through hell and back, what have you done? In their minds, you’re just a perfect little princess that can do no wrong.

And were they? Were they wrong? They weren't. Tamlin made sure you stayed pure, innocent, protected from danger so that you didn't need to lift a finger if you ever needed anything. But that was it, all your life had been dictated by someone else. Your thoughts, opinions and ideals were implanted by Tamlin.

It was time to start thinking of your own, to start creating a life of your own without Tamlin’s influence.

Without his curse.

The curse that only Lucien knew the existence and Feyre suspected of.

It was time to start battling everything you’ve been taught and fight for what you want. While you still needed to figure out what exactly it is that you want, you were going to do it. It was time to prove to yourself and to these new people that you were capable of more, of being more than just a foolish lost princess.

How were you going to do it? You had no idea, but you hope that the beautiful male with hazel eyes and scarred hands would wait long enough for you to give you a chance or perhaps, he could be the one to help you.

[milswrites]

Happy Ending

Based on this request

Pairing: Azriel X Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel's brothers remind him that he deserves happiness too.

Warnings: An equal amount of fluff and angst.

Word count: 2.9k

Notes: I wrote this while in a massive slump so I’m scared to post this lol. Consider this my advanced apology in case this isn’t very good.

Azriel was spellbound; the male finding himself unable to do anything but bask in the majesty of your ethereal form. Admiration pooling in the shadowsinger's eyes as he absorbed the enchanting glow of your sun-kissed skin.

He watched you.

Mouth parting in awe as his hazel eyes lingered over your soft figure as you rose from the picnic blanket. Your beauty likening that of the Mother herself as the radiant light of the afternoon sun encircled the crown of your head like a lucent halo.

He watched you.

His usually stoic lips upturned into a gentle smile as a giggling Nyx ran into your waiting arms. Heart fluttering uncontrollably as he watched the young boy place a loving kiss onto your cheek before you reciprocated the gesture with a beaming grin.

He watched you.

Because if he didn't, then he was sure to wake; with you only the object of his wildest dreams.

~~~

"You're staring again," Cassian chimed, a wicked smirk crossing his face as he propped himself up from the blanket he was laying on in order to face a flustered Azriel, "It's starting to get a little creepy."

"I am not staring!" Azriel hissed through clenched teeth. And yet, despite having been called out for it by his brother, Azriel's eyes failed to leave your glowing form as you walked away from where the males were sat to head towards the river's edge alongside Feyre and Nesta.

"Did you know your wings twitch when you're lying brother?" Cassian teased, chuckling as he ducked his head in order to dodge the cushion a disgruntled Azriel had thrown his way. The shadowsinger managing to tear his eyes from you for long enough to send a menacing glare in his brother's direction.

"I mean, can you really blame her for not acknowledging you, Az?" Rhysand asked with a snigger, violet eyes dancing with mirth as he playfully nudged Azriel's shoulder with his own, "it's not your fault that the heir of the Night Court is just as charming as his father."

Unimpressed by Rhysand's egocentric comment, Azriel and Cassian shifted their gaze from where the group of females were playing with Nyx down by the river to look towards each other. Their apathetic brows raising in union before the two males proceeded to launch their cushions at Rhysand's face.

Scoffing at the shrill cry which followed, Azriel shook his head as he turned his attention back to you. The ghost of a smile working its way onto the shadowsinger's lips as he watched you hold on to Nyx's hands in order to steady the child as he paddled in the shallows. His heart swelling at the dulcet sound of your cheery laughter as the squealing boy playfully splashed the flowing water towards you.

Unfortunately Azriel's watchful admiration didn't last for long, Cassian's tentative voice once more breaking the silence of an otherwise peaceful afternoon, "Az ?. . ."

"Don't push me Cass," Azriel warned, eyes rolling as they briefly flickered towards the general in disapproval, "or cauldron help me, that stone Nyx is throwing won't be the only thing sinking to the bottom of the river."

"Oh sure, my lips are sealed," Cassian shrugged dismissively as he moved to lay back down, voice laced with amusement as he offhandedly added, "I won't even mention the fact that your shadows have taken a little trip down to the river to visit a certain someone."

Azriel's attention snapped back towards the body of water where - just as Cassian had noted - two rogue shadows had taken it upon themselves to curl around not only the tiny heir, but also you. The shadowsinger's heart sinking to his stomach as his wide eyes took in the disobedient shadow which had lovingly snaked its way around the curve of your waist.

A sputtering Azriel worked to tug the insubordinate shadow away from you, cursing as it refused to budge from where it was comfortably resting. The smoky tendril seeming to have a mind of its own as it stubbornly ignored its master's fretful call.

This movement didn't go unnoticed by you. Your curious gaze dropping to the shadow which was tenderly embracing your waist, a soft smile gracing your lips as you lifted your bright eyes to meet Azriel's own panicked ones. The bashful male blushing a deep shade of red as you cheerfully waved in his direction.

Azriel sheepishly waved back, a crooked smile stretching across his reddened face as he nervously uttered under his breath, "Cauldron boil me."

"I don't get it," Rhysand started, brows knitting together in confusion as he observed Azriel's failed efforts of trying to reign in his unruly shadows, "you obviously like her, and it's clear your shadows do too . . . So why haven't you done anything?"

"It's never come up," Azriel justified with a shrug, clearing his throat in a poor attempt of acting casual, "we're both busy people, sometimes it's just easier to stay friends."

Cassian snorted at Azriel's words, lips curling into a devilish grin as he chided his brother, "Liar. Your wings are twitching again."

Azriel rolled his eyes, wings curling in defense as he reasoned, "Look I don't even know if she's interested in -"

"Bullshit" Rhysand interjected, scoffing at the inaccuracy of Azriel's traitorous thoughts.

"Rhys-"

"Az, she is totally in love with you."

"But how do you even-"

"Azriel!" Rhysand exclaimed, resting a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder in order to ground him, "only a fool would look at the way she looks at you and think that she doesn't feel the same."

A shaky breath rattled in Azriel's chest, his dejected hazel eyes looking up to meet the violet irises of his brother's concerned stare, "It doesn't matter. Even if she does like me . . . I'm not good enough for her."

"Not good enough?" Cassian questioned with an uncertain laugh, pulling Azriel's attention from Rhysand to himself, "Az, you're a six-foot-four Illyrian with immense power and an - admittedly - impressive wingspan. I think it's safe to say that you're good enough for anyone."

Azriel released a sad laugh at Cassian's misunderstanding, the shadowsinger taking a moment to close his eyes and inhale deeply before speaking, "Thanks Cass, but that's not what I meant. I just . . . I think she deserves someone who is worthy of her love."

"You think you're unworthy?" Cassian asked in surprise, while, in the same breath, Rhysand reassured, "But you are worthy, Az."

"No," Azriel disagreed with a low shake of his head, his sorrowful eyes returning to where you were wading through the water with Nyx safely held between your arms, "she's everything good about the world and I won't ruin that - I can't . . . Sometimes perfect things are better left untouched."

"Az, why would you even think like that?" Cassian pressed in disbelief, hurt crossing his features as he listened to the shadowsinger's deprecating words.

Azriel's brows pulled together in shame, expression forlorn as he began to explain, "The things I've done? . . . The things I'm capable of doing? She doesn't need to be exposed to that life. Cass, she deserves better than me."

Rhysand guffawed at Azriel's remark, his head thrown back in glee as he clutched at his chest. Even Cassian found humor in the situation, the male hiding his deep chuckle behind a half-hearted cough, wiping faux tears from his eyes as the High Lord stated, "That Az, is the stupidest thing I have ever heard."

"I'm glad you guys find my insecurities amusing."

"We hear you Az - really, we do," Rhysand consoled his brother, the male's laughter simmering into a supportive smile as he rested a comforting hand on Azriel's knee, "I mean, you don't really think that it was easy for us did you?"

His words peaked Azriel's interest, the shadowsinger's pained expression morphing into one of surprised curiosity as he quirked a questioning brow at his brother, "Really? But I thought-"

"Come on Az, be serious. Do you think a day goes by where I truly believe I'm worthy of Feyre?" Rhysand asks, his wistful gaze moving down to the river where a beaming Feyre was teaching an excitable Nyx how to skip stones, "But that doesn't stop me from working my damn ass off every day to try and be the mate that she deserves."

"Yeah, just look at Nesta and I. We're far from perfect," Cassian commented, tears of joy lining the general's eyes upon seeing Nesta's glowing smile as she cheered their nephew on from the river's bank, "we fight like animals half of the time, admittedly it's mostly down to me saying things that I don't mean to say . . ."

As if sensing her mate's loving stare, Nesta's eyes moved to meet his own. The female sending a playful wink Cassian's way, earning a soft chuckle from the male, "but she always makes sure to tell me when I'm out of line, just as she expects me to do the same for her."

Azriel nodded in understanding, the self-placed shame he had once felt due to his lack of self-worth was now directed towards the fact he had never known what obstacles his brother's have had to overcome on their quest for happiness. Guilt swimming in the shadowsinger's eyes as he confessed, "I never knew you guys felt the same way."

Cassian smiled fondly at his brother, a strong arm moving to wrap around Azriel's shoulders as he gave the male a comforting squeeze, "Relationships aren't about one person being more deserving than the other Az, they're about balance . . . They're about loving someone so deeply that you want to make yourself a better person for them."

"You'll get there" Rhysand promised, his confident gaze working to uplift Azriel's spirit, "you just have to believe that you deserve happiness too."

"That sounds easier said than done" Azriel remarked flatly. And yet, despite his words, the shadowsinger was unable to hide the way in which his lips had started to twitch into a hopeful smile.

"It's not when you've found the person worth taking the risk for," Rhysand answered, his eyes shimmering with sincerity as he gestured towards you with his head, "And I think you've already got that bit covered."

A light blush dusted Azriel's cheeks, a timid laugh slipping from the male's lips as his adoring gaze turned back to you, "She is pretty great isn't she?"

"Pretty great?" Cassian asked with a snort, a teasing grin working its way onto the general's face, "Az if you don't ask her out soon, Nesta and I would be more than willing to steal her from you."

Azriel scowled at his brother, eyes narrowing as he opened his mouth to spit back a retort. Yet you beat him to it, the shadowsinger's words catching on the tip of his tongue as your soft voice called out to the group of males, "Are you guys just going to sit there gossiping all afternoon or are you going to come and join us?"

Cassian readily jumped to his feet, the male wasting no time in eagerly setting off in your direction. Lips pulled into a scheming smirk as he yelled back to you, "Be right over sunshi-"

Unable to finish his sentence, a strangled yelp fell from Cassian's mouth. The male clumsily tumbling to the ground as a rogue shadow slipped away from the general's ankle unnoticed. Azriel chuckling merrily as he passed the downed male with a grin, "Graceful as always, Cass."

~~~

Azriel had never seen a siren before. But here, sat on the bank as he watched you elegantly glide through the river as though it was second nature, the male was certain that your beauty - even in the water- was unmatched.

And just when Azriel thought you couldn't get any more radiant, he found himself enraptured by your celestial grace. His hazel eyes drawn to the delicate droplets of water which glistened on your plush lips thanks to the sun's amber rays.

You were beautiful, there was no doubt about that. Rhysand had picked the most beautiful spot on the continent for your outing today, and yet even the breathtaking scenery of the lush surroundings paled in comparison to you.

"Hey Az?" your gentle voice drew the male from his stupor, the lovesick fog in his affectionate gaze clearing just enough for Azriel to see your expectant eyes looking up at him from where you were swaying in the water, "Are you going to come in?"

Azriel's eyes grew wide at your question, cheeks burning red as the male searched for a suitable answer, "Oh, uh . . . you want me to -?"

A low groan of frustration sounded next to Azriel, an exasperated Rhysand roughly pushing the shadowsinger to stand as he whispered with a hiss, "Az, just get in the damn water."

Shrinking under the anticipatory stares of his family, Azriel swiftly removed his boots before awkwardly shuffling towards the river's edge. Cautious, he dipped a tentative toe into the flowing water before pulling back with an alarmed cry, wings curling in shock at the frigid temperature of the river, "I don't know if I ca-"

"Oh for cauldron's sake" Cassian huffed behind Azriel, a heavy hand falling onto the male's shoulder before he shoved the shadowsinger in.

Azriel had no time to react, a panicked shriek slipping from his lips as he forcefully crashed into the freezing water. Limbs flailing uselessly as he worked to make his way towards the surface, the shadowsinger's control slipping as the current worked against his feeble actions.

Relief was delivered in the form of your tender touch, your gentle hands moving to support the male as he gathered his wits and acclimated to the - somewhat - soothing chill of the river. Azriel's eyes blinking open only for him to be greeted by your warming smile looking back at him.

"Hi" you whispered, softly giggling at Azriel's uneasy expression. Eyes shining with adoration as you gently moved to wrap your arms around Azriel's shoulders in order to steady the fumbling male, "thank you for joining me."

"Hi" Azriel replied breathlessly, his cheeks still burning with a heated blush despite the cooling nature of the water which surrounded him. Noticing your close proximity, the shadowsinger gulped nervously. The male helpless in resisting his shadows control as they worked to pull his slightly trembling hands to rest against the curve of your waist.

Azriel now safe within your hold, the two of you happily bobbed along with the current. All thoughts of your watchful friends long forgotten as you allowed yourselves to become lost within the moment. Azriel's heart beating wildly as your ardent gaze never failed to leave his flustered face.

And it was here, tenderly wrapped within your comforting embrace, that Azriel allowed himself to wonder if Rhysand had been right all along about your supposed affections. The shadowsinger realizing that perhaps he needn't have worried about whether you would be able to love him - because maybe you already did.

"Hey sunshine!" Cassian's startling shout broke the silence which had comfortably settled between the pair of you, the general's voice filled with mischief as he teasingly called, "Az has something he wanted to ask you!"

Stunned, Azriel blanched at his words. A string of expletives falling from the shadowsinger's lips as he turned his anxious gaze towards you. The unsteady beating of his heart thundered in his ears at the daunting sound of your encouraging hum.

"Uh . . . um, I just wanted to . . ." Azriel's apprehensive gaze shifted towards his brother who was waiting on the bank with his head hung into the palm of his hand, panic building in his chest as the male found himself lost for words, "I was just wondering if you wanted . . . uh-"

"Yes Azriel," you beamed, softly nodding along to Azriel's garbled speech, "The answer is yes. I would love to go on a date with you."

Wasting no time, you sealed your lips against his own. Using the arms you had tightly wrapped around his shoulders to pull the flustered male closer towards you. Smiling into the kiss as Azriel's lips began to tentatively move against your own.

The shadowsinger clutched onto you as though you were his lifeline, fingers firmly pressed into your waist as he held you flush against him - lips chasing after yours as though he would surely drown without your sweetened kiss.

Yet the kiss was only fleeting, you having pulled away at the sound of your friend's ecstatic cheers. Azriel released a laugh of disbelief as you moved to rest your forehead against his own, your eyes bright and full of love as you breathlessly whispered, "Finally. I was wondering how long it would take you to ask me that."

"What?" Azriel asked in astonishment, his swollen lips parting in surprise, "You've been waiting for . . . me?"

"You're beautiful, Az" you exclaimed as though it was obvious, a soft gasp escaping from the male's lips at your words, "So unbelievably beautiful."

"But I- I'm . . ."

You hushed the male with a swift peck to his lips, "Just kiss me again, Az."

"With pleasure" Azriel answered with a smile, bringing his lips to meet your own.

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

One bed

Azriel x reader

Word count: 3000+

Summary: Due to unforeseen circumstances, you end up in the same room as Azriel

Warnings: none

I'd love to say I have solved the Frozen thingy, but I haven't yet. I've started writing part 3 and that's where I stopped because of the madness around. I was so close to making a solid plan for it. Unfortunately, the work happened, then Christmas at work baking f***ing chicken farm. Then husband got fever🙄and he couldn't live without getting someone else sick as well, so now son has high fever too and I'm the last one somehow surviving here. At least I have whole week of holidays next week. I hoped to relax and write more, but we'll see. Wish me luck🥴

Anyway here's something small and not so angsty that just popped up suddenly. Hope you enjoy it.

And for everyone who celebrate, have a peaceful holiday 💕

"I thought I've reserved enough rooms," Rhysand sighed. The last hour he was talking with the owner of the inn we were staying at, trying all possible tactics to persuade him to find us one more room. Impossible task from the very beginning as the inn was full.

We were on non-official official mission. At first, there were only six of us supposed to go as Amren declined, intending to stay with Mor in Velaris, protecting it. However, the two of them had yet another quarrel recently, which led to Amren suddenly appearing with a packed bag in hand a few seconds before intended departure. Nobody, not even Rhys, had balls to tell her no. And that's why we ended up in this situation. Rhys had everything perfectly planned, as usual, but he couldn't have known this would happen. And now we were one room short, but again - nobody dared to tell aloud whose fault it was. Amren was like hungry bulldog, ready to tear to shreds anyone and anything at the best of her days. Now, she was pissed off.

Feyre and Nesta took their keys, Feyre giving me an apologetic look. From the start, they were supposed to share rooms with their mates. This was also kind of vacation for us, so it was only logical they wanted to be with their partners.

That left Rhys with last two keys in hand. Amren snatched one and without looking at anyone or even a small mumbled sorry, she left. We exchanged look and whole group finally relaxed.

"Sorry," Feyre murmured as she headed to her room with sorrowful expression.

Before she left, Nesta gazed at me with silent question and I nodded. I would be fine, for sure. Cassian winked at me as he followed her. They both knew about the feelings I had for Azriel for quite some time, each supporting me in their own way. At this point, probably everyone around knew, except for the mentioned Shadowsinger and I didn't plan to be the one to break the news. I knew my limits and he was off them.

Rhys turned to me and Azriel with sorrowful expression, brows furrowed. "I'm sorry, Az, but you know.. Ladies first," he offered me the last key. Spymaster didn't even as much as blink, no protests at all. He looked as his usual self, unbothered by the problem at the hand.

"Thankies," I smiled, took the key and looped hand to Azriel's arm. "Come."

They both opened mouth in surprise, none of them expecting this from me. Rhys recovered as first.

"Enjoy yourself," he smirked and I rolled my eyes.

"Ha ha ha, how funny," I stuck out tongue at him. He chuckled and hurried after his mate, leaving the two of us alone. I raised brow at Shadowsinger who was still too shocked to speak. He didn't even notice Rhys' teasing.

"What? Did you think I would let you sleep on roof or what?"

"B-b-but," he stammered, his cheeks dusted with pink.

"No buts. Come!" I had to pull reluctant Azriel down the hallway.

"I can try another inn-"

"Nonsense! You would miss all the fun. Plus, I really don't mind. We are friends after all. I have nothing to be afraid of, right?"

I came to a sudden stop, realizing something.

"Wait! You mind staying with me in the same room?"

Before, it didn't occur to me that he could be against. I thought we were getting along pretty well, given the fact that we tended to seek out each other's company, sitting together and talking. The two of us even often hung out in the city, venturing cafes and bakeries. I thought he liked to spend time with me, but it could be only my mistaken impression. I knew I couldn't hope for more than friendship and I was fine with that as long as I could be close to him. He could feel differently though.

"No!" he hurried with an answer, eyes wide. "No, nothing like that. It's just.."

"What is it?"

"It's just.. you are female and I'm male."

I was so relieved to hear that, that I wanted to laugh, but I didn't. "That means that you will pounce on me like an animal as soon as door close?"

He flushed fiercely, averting his eyes. "You know I will do no such a thing. It just means that you might be uncomfortable because of that."

"I'm fine. Believe me," I said softly and took his hand. "So come on, silly."

He chuckled and this time, he willingly followed me.

The room, we got, was quite a nice one for an old inn, but it was rather smaller one. Most of the space was occupied by bed big enough to accommodate Illyrian wings. It was one of the reasons Rhysand chose this place, thinking about the comfort of his brothers. We were supposed to spend here whole week, maybe longer, so it was necessary.

Except of bed, there was only small table with two old chairs, hearth and connected bathroom.

After we settled down, the air had somehow thickened, both of us suddenly embarrassed. And so I did what I could to lighten the atmosphere a bit, but every try for a conversation died out soon after it started. At last, I gave up.

"It was long day," I stretched out, all my joints making a satisfying cracking sound and Azriel grimaced. He didn't like when I did it. "I'm tired. Do you want to use the bathroom as first?"

"No, go ahead," he offered and started to line up on table all the daggers he had on him. I paused and watched him, amazed. How could he hide so many? I thought he had only two, max three. He noticed me and smiled shyly.

"I'll clean them while you take shower. Don't worry, I'll put them away afterwards."

"I don't mind them at all," I mumbled, ashamed I got caught. "I'm just stunned you managed to sneak in the whole arsenal. Seeing it now, I would bet that not only do you have one for each of us but also even one spare."

At that he finally laughed, the rich sound warming my heart. I already missed that sound. Corners of my mouth curled into satisfied smile and I quickly gathered all necessary things and went to the bathroom.

When I came out, the daggers were gone from the table. Azriel was seated on the same chair he occupied since we came, pyjama in hands. He was staring into space, looking somehow troubled. Shadows gathered around his ear and he looked up at me, faking smile. Without a word, he stood up and hurried to the bathroom.

While I was waiting, I shoved my used underwear to the bottom of my bag and climbed to the bed, snuggling up in a warm blanket. It was quite cold here, old window hardly blocking the cold wind from outside.

Azriel took quite long to finish. By the time bathroom door creaked open, I was almost asleep. He rustled around for a while and adding big log to the fire, he turned off lights. I waited. The room went completely silent.

I opened eyes. "Are you kidding me," I sat up, sighing. "Az, I thought, we already talked it out." I glared into a dark corner by the hearth.

"Don't worry about me and sleep," he replied from his place on the old chair.

"You can't sleep on that old crap. It will most likely give in soon." The only answer was silence.

"C'mon, Az. It won't do you any good if you're sleep-deprived. To none of us in fact. What if something happens and you won't be able to fight because you are too tired and sore?"

Again silence.

"Do you want me to help you to the bed? I warn you, I'm going to drag you here not by arm but by ear this time."

He chuckled. His wings rustled and mattress dipped under his weight. "Fine then. Have it your way."

I tucked him in like a small child, mindful of his wings and settled down, heart pounding in my throat.

"That wasn't necessary."

"Believe me it was. And don't try to fake it. I'm light sleeper. I will know if you get up in the middle of the night."

"Fine, fine." He sounded amused. He was lying on his back, wings folded and tugged close to his body.

"Relax. The bed is enough big for both of us. Even if you touch me. I'm not made of sugar, I won't melt into puddle," I assured him as I curled up on my side of bed with back to him, taking as little space as possible so he had enough comfort. He made a sound at the back of his throat.

I thought I wouldn't be able to sleep at all with him being so close. But as bed warmed up with his presence and his calming scent wrapped around me as another blanket, I fell asleep in no time.

* * *

Azriel didn't even blink an eye. He was just lying there, stretched on his back, gazing at ceiling. He wasn't used to falling asleep next to someone. After she reassured him, he relaxed a bit but only his body. He was too nervous and excited at the same time. He was scared to even breath, not wanting to wake her up. How could she sleep so soundly? Didn't she feel the same? Didn't his presence stir her nerves?

Shadows curled on pillow near his ear, whispering. They described him in detail how she drifted off with sweet smile on her lips. Smile that she was still wearing. He wished he could see it with his own eyes.

He dared to turn his head to the side to watch her back, her shoulder slightly rising with every breath. Even at place like this in the middle of nowhere, she kept smelling like field of spring flowers, delicate and sweet. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the moment.

He felt so lucky right now and thanked the Mother for sending Amren at last minute, giving him this opportunity. For years, he was trying to get closer to Y/N. No matter how many times, he was ready to tell her about his feelings, he always gave up in the end, not daring to even suggest it. She was everything he wasn't, beautiful, kind and perfect. She deserved better.

He watched her entire night, mesmerized. It was strange. She was always so energetic during the day, yet at night she didn't move at all. It made him wonder whether it was because of him or it was normal.

It was after the sunrise when he finally calmed down and dozed off for hour or two.

* * *

Three days later, a knock sounded on our door. We were just finishing off the lasts of our breakfast. We looked up in time to see Rhysand's head peeking in. He held hand over his eyes with sassy smirk on his lips.

"Can I come in? I wouldn't like to see something inappropriate."

I rolled my eyes while Azriel bid him in, unaffected by his teasing. Honestly, everyone was making fun of us for no reason. After the first night, Nesta pulled me aside to ask me how it went and how I felt. I had nothing to tell her. At least nothing interesting anyway. I slept like a baby and not only the first night, but every night after.

Every evening, Azriel dutifully took his side of bed and I curled up on mine. No touching, only a pleasant small chat between friends. It was noticeable that he didn't sleep much the first night, however after that, he didn't seem to have such troubles. I was glad for that.

"I came to inform you that finally one more room is available. If you want, one of you can take it," he grinned and waited for our reply with one brow raised.

Out of the corner of eye, I looked at Azriel who was already eyeing me with unreadable expression. It seemed he wouldn't speak and it was up to me to decide.

"Well.. I don't mind to share room with Az at all. But if you'd like to have your privacy.." I turned to him.

His eyes widened slightly and his lips moved without making a sound.

"I don't mind, too," he managed.

"So," Rhys dragged the word. "You want to stay together? Really?"

We nodded as one man, not willing to give him what he hoped for. He was visibly disappointed.

"Fine then," he sighed, "as you want. I'll inform the owner."

* * *

A week later we were so used to this situation and each other's presence that we returned to our usual selves, rambling about anything, laughing, even touching lightly.

Our mission was over and this was our last night of sharing room. Azriel was spread on bed next to me, his wing gently touching my back. I was slowly falling asleep while we did small talk. Somewhere between dream and reality I got idea. Crazy as it was, my sleepy brain didn't find anything strange or wrong with it and my body acted on its own.

With closed eyes I rolled to his side, wrapped arm around his waist and rested my head on his chest. Azriel made a surprised sound and stiffened, but he didn't try to push me away. His smell filled my nose, his warmth seeping into me. Frantic but steady melody of his heart lulled me deeper into sleep. Last thing I felt before I completely drifted off, was his body relaxing under me and his arm holding me close.

* * *

Azriel was so surprised, he couldn't think straight. What was happening? He touched Y/N lightly, yet she didn't mind. She was almost asleep, relaxed and seemingly comfortable with him as her pillow. He felt her smiling into his chest and that gave him courage to wrap his hands around her. She hummed with satisfaction and dozed off completely.

Azriel gazed at her, unsure what to think or feel. Naturally, it made him happy, a dream-come-true kind of situation, but was it really okay? Was it really happening? It seemed to him just like a figment of his imagination, fed by amazing week spent by her side, so close to her.

He pinched himself, really painfully, leaving a bruise on his forearm. It was real. He swallowed hard. Slowly small smile spread on his face. He could get used to this.

When the initial surprise and embarrassment had passed, he found himself enjoying this. His heart was pounding fast, as he touched her hair and pushed them aside to see her face. He couldn't help it and traced a single finger down her face and jaw, mapping her full lips, lovely nose and soft arches of her brows.

He chuckled lightly. Y/N didn't even stir. So much to a light-sleeper.

As he watched her, his fantasy took over, offering him all kinds of imaginary situations that could lead to them ending up in this position; from innocent snuggling together for the night to them being naked, covered in sweat and spent after good sex. His heart squeezed in pain. He loved it and wanted it all. He didn't even realize that he was tugging her closer and closer, holding her so firmly there was no space left between them.

Despite everything, the scenario of innocent snuggling immediately became his favourite one. It held a certain kind of peace and warmth, something he longed for the most. He kept replaying it again and again until he fell asleep, too. The fantasy followed him even to his dreams where it became so real that it was unbearable.

* * *

I woke up unusually early at dawn. Still drowsy I looked around, not comprehending where I was. I was warm and comfy, so ready to close my eyes again, until I notice rising and falling steady flesh under me. That completely woke me up.

I looked up, finding Azriel still fast asleep. He was smiling sweetly, yet the tears rolled down his cheeks, soft whimpers leaving his lips. My chest tightened at the sight. It hurt me to see him like this. I reached up and gently wiped the tears off.

He slowly opened eyes and looked at me, still smiling.

"Good morning," I whispered.

"'Morning, Y/N," he replied, his deep voice raspy in the most sexy way. His thumb started to move up and down my waist in soothing motion.

"Bad dreams?"

"Sometimes dreams can be so beautiful that they make one cry," he murmured. He sounded so sad that I felt like crying too. Instead, I placed both of my hands on his chest and rested my chin on top of them.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I searched his eyes.

He shook his head and wiped off the rest of his tears. "I just wish I could go back and keep having the same dream for the rest of my life," he sighed, his eyes never leaving my face.

I propped up on my elbow and caressed his cheek. "You know that dreams don't have to stay dreams. They can became reality if you want them to."

His eyes widened and he swallowed hard. He seemed to be thinking very hard about something. Determination filled his eyes and he lifted up his head, stopping an inch from my face, waiting.

It was so sudden that I held my breath, but I didn't pull away. Watching me closely, Azriel leaned even closer and his lips lightly grazed over mine. I moaned, my body acting on its own. My eyes closed and I firmly pressed my lips to his. All the years of my suppressed feelings poured into this one kiss, not believing that there would be any more. He groaned and opened up, slowly moving, testing the waters. His fingers dug into flesh of my waist, holding me impossibly close.

It ended as suddenly as it started. He reluctantly broke the kiss and rested his forehead against mine, heaving.

"I want it to become real."

[7seas-of-ryy]

Another Hangover Cure

Author’s Note: I got this idea from @yearninglustfully on this post! I recommend reading Hangover Cure first!

Summary: You, Rhys, and Cassian aren't allowed to be together alone anymore... but what about when the three of you are paired up for business?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader, Platonic!Rhys x Reader, Platonic!Cassian x Reader

Warnings: drinking, implied smut, let me know if I need to add any others :)

Your specialty for the Night Court had always been spells and wards. You could easily place a spell or ward anything. Your intelligence is what made Rhys invite you to work for him so long ago. That is how you started at the Night Court and it quickly became your home.

For a while, you had been practicing breaking wards and spells. It was much harder than it seemed and you had yet to master it.

Rhys had brought you a box that had been warded many many years ago and after working on it for a month, you told him you needed help. It was a much older and stronger magic than you were used to and you weren't afraid to admit when you couldn't do something.

After much contemplation, Rhys decided he would go to Helion, the High Lord of the Day Court, to get his help. He wanted you to come with and told Cassian he would also be coming for extra security.

You were currently in a meeting with everyone in the IC discussing this.

"Absolutely not. You three cannot be trusted together." Az immediately stated.

Feyre and Nesta immediately agreed with the male.

"Listen, we need Y/N for this so she can learn and see how its done. This is literally her area of expertise, she is crucial for this. I am the High Lord, it is a curtesy for me to go and the only reason Cass is going as security is because the rest of you are busy." Rhys told the group.

"Don't think I forgot about the tree you three stole!" Az responded.

"You told him?!" Cassian asked you.

You grimaced and gave him with a sorry look.

"This won't be like us going out for a night out, this will be us doing work." You reasoned with Az.

"Yes, strictly business" Cass added with a salute to the shadowsinger

"Fine, but not for too long. You three have to come back by tomorrow." Az compromised.

"Deal." You, Rhys, and Cass all said in unison.

Azriel pulled you aside before you left.

"Please be safe my love. And as much as I am worried about the three of you together, I do want you to enjoy yourself still...just not too much. Helion can get handsy." He ended the sentence with a scowl.

"You're the only one I could ever want. I promise I will be safe and responsible." You told him

He placed a kiss on your forehead and helped you strap on your bag.

"I love you so much, have a safe trip." He spoke and then placed a loving kiss on your lips.

You heard Cass make a gagging sound and Az rolled his eyes at his brother.

You walked over to him and Rhys and the three of you started the journey to the Day Court.

Azriel, Nesta, and Feyre all stood watching you three leave.

"This is not a good idea" Nesta spoke

"Terrible idea" Feyre agreed.

"Lets just hope they learned their lesson last time." Azriel added

The three split up and went to do their work for the day.

Once you made it to the Day Court, Helion was quick to greet you.

"Ahh Y/N, my protege! I am so excited to teach you my ways." He announced and brought you in for a kiss on the cheek.

"Hands off, Helion. I promised my brother I wouldn't let you be all over her." Cassian told him

You all laughed and after the rest of the greetings, he led the three of you inside.

The warded box was laying on the table in front of you all while Helion examined it.

"Hmm this is rare and old magic indeed. I believe the reason you could not crack it was that it requires two to break the spell." He told you.

You let out a sigh in relief, knowing that it wasn't entirely your fault that you couldn't figure it out. The Day Court High Lord explained what you had to do and how these specific wards worked. You actually learned a lot from him and were grateful for this experience.

The two of you worked on the box and eventually broke it open. Rhys stored the contents of it in his bag and began to talk.

"Alright, well thank you for all of your help. This has been very-" he started but Helion cut him off.

"You're leaving already? I had a whole meal and night planned, which included the finest wine we have to offer." He told you three with a smile that showed all his teeth.

You looked over at Cass who was already smiling at you and then Rhys who looked to be contemplating his next words.

"It would be rude to leave when they went through all the effort of putting it together for us." Cass spoke before Rhys could.

"So its settled! You're staying. I have rooms for you all so you can stay the night as well. Our wine is no joke, you probably won't be able to have three glasses before blacking out." Helion stated, leading you to the dining room.

The four of you ate a lovely meal, sharing stories and enjoying the wine. It seemed every time you would drink it, it would fill itself up. Perhaps thats why a few glasses would get someone drunk beyond belief.

Before you knew it, you were already feeling tipsy. You could tell the others were as well, due to their pink cheeks and loud voices.

"Are you guys interested in seeing how the Day Court parties?" Helion asked.

"Absolutely!" Cass responded.

"I'm intrigued." Rhys added.

You just nodded and giggled, knowing the wine was taking over quickly.

That was the last thing you remember from the night. Well, you remember dancing and laughing, a lot of laughing.

---

"I can't believe they did it again!" You heard Feyre speak.

"I can. I told you it was a bad idea." Nesta added.

Azriel just stood in silence watching the mess on the ground with a smile on his face.

He didn't care that he had to come help you after you had a fun night. He trusted you and he trusted his brothers. He secretly enjoyed getting to take care of you for the day. He was just concerned with you getting so drunk that your shields would be down.

Your eyes slowly opened and the feeling of drinking too much wine last night hit you. You were laying on your back sprawled out like a starfish. Everything hurt and you had no idea what you were even laying on.

You slowly began to roll over and continued rolling as if you were going down a hill until you hit the floor. Once you looked over, you realized you were laying on top of Rhys, Cass, and Helion, who were all bunched into a ball, and there was a...door laying between Rhys and Helion. You weren't even sure who's limbs belonged to who, they were so twisted up.

They all started to wake up after you moved off of them and all were groaning and grunting in pain.

"Is this what you call strictly business?" Az asked with a smirk on his face.

"Don't tell me we did it again." Rhys mumbled

"Cass why are you wearing my socks as gloves again?" you asked, holding your head to stop the pounding.

"At least I didn't go through a wall this time." Cass said in defense.

"Actually..." Helion stated as he raised his pointer finger and pointed it at the wall behind them, "we both went through that wall. Y/N sure can make one hell of a ricochet ward."

"Helion, you told me you would watch over them so it wouldn't happen again!" Feyre scolded him

"After you told me about how these three party, I wasn't going to let the night go to waste. I wanted to have some fun!!" He defended himself.

"So that's why my glass kept refilling itself!" You said in an accusatory tone, pointing at him.

"Ok I'm leaving for 20 minutes to let you four figure out what happened and once I get back I want to know everything." Nesta stated and Feyre and Az followed her.

"Well, it could be worse than this, I guess." Cass stated

"Could it?" Rhys retorted.

You grimaced and looked around as a memory hit you.

"Helion, did I ride a pegasus last night?" You asked

"I believe you did and I believe it bonded with you." He replied with a nod of approval.

You looked over at Cassian and only then realized he was entirely orange.

"What happened to you?!" You exclaimed.

"I don't know!" He replied starting to freak out.

"I can help with that one. You said you could pull off any color so Y/N bet that you wouldn't look good if you were orange." Rhys said, his voice rough

You looked at the orange male with a sorry look and said, "oops?"

"Rhys, why are you laying with a door on top of you?" It was Helion's turn to ask.

"I was cold." Your High Lord told him.

The four of you were silent for a few moments, just watching each other.

"You have a black eye." Cass told Rhy.

"You're missing a tooth." Rhys told Cass.

"Y/N warded my hand to make it stick to whatever it touches so when I peed, it got stuck to my..." Helion admitted, his voice getting softer towards the end of his sentence.

"Oh, Y/N, no..." Cass said in horror.

"You have got to stop drunk warding things." Rhys added.

You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment.

"This is worse than last time!" Cass exclaimed.

"Our 20 minutes are almost up and we still don't have our story straight. I mean, I don't even know how they knew to come for us. Do you guys?" You exclaimed

Cass and Rhys shook their heads no.

"I think I let them know their assistance would be needed in the morning... but I might have also sent them our breakfast order." Helion explained.

"Breakfast sounds so good right now" Cassian groaned and the rest of you made noises of approval.

"Ok, heres the plan. We pull ourselves together and act like we had a normal night with a normal amount of drinking." Rhys told the rest of you.

"They saw you using a door as a blanket!" You whisper-shouted at him.

"It's not the best plan but its the only plan we've got." He replied in the same tone.

"I think they're coming. Act natural." Cass whisper yelled.

Feyre, Nesta, and Azriel all entered the room and looked around.

You were leaning with your elbow against a wall, resting your hand on your head. Rhys was sitting on the couch with his legs crossed, his ankle resting over his knee while he pretended to be deep in thought. Helion was leaning against a table pretending to read a book. And Cassian was standing in the middle of the room with his eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

"You're all idiots." Nesta deadpanned.

"Rhys, how could you let this happen again?" Feyre spoke dissapointed.

Azriel was quiet so the sisters looked over at him, they were expecting him to scold the group as well. When he didn't, Feyre nudged him.

"Do you have anything to add Az?" She asked him

He was still just smiling at your attempt to be normal and shook his head no.

"I just want to get my mate home as quick as possible." He stated

Everyone snapped their attention to him, even you.

"Mate?" You questioned.

"Mate." he stated with a huge smile, "in the middle of the night, I recieved a breakfast order from Helion. I assumed that meant the four of you were incredibly drunk. I was going to let you have your fun and wait til you got home to poke fun at you but this morning I felt it snap into place."

You walked to each other and he wrapped his arms around you, bringing you in for a kiss. The urge to be close to him was stronger than ever now.

"Let's get home." You told your mate, bringing him in for another kiss.

"Quickly please, before the two of you start devouring each other's faces in front of us" Cass spoke with a gross look, but you knew he was happy for you.

Azriel lifted you up and started flying with you, headed back to the Night Court.

"Do you want me to make you some food once we get home?" Your mate asked you.

"No, I just want to get home as fast as possible. I need you." You told him, his eyes darkening at your insinuation.

"You seem to be feeling much better than when you woke up. I think I truly am the best hangover cure." He joked.

--

After you got home, the frenzy started and lasted a little over a week. Once it calmed a bit, you finally showed up to the River house for a nice family dinner.

Conversation was flowing and that night out got brought up.

"You know, I really don't remember much of that night." Cass said.

"I know everything that happened." Azriel spoke before taking a bite of food.

"WHAT?! How?!" You exclaimed.

"After everything that happened last time, I made sure to send a shadow with you for your safety. It hung back and watched, it would alert me if you were in real danger. Before we showed up to get you guys that morning, it reported back to me what happened the entire night." He spoke so matter of fact.

"Show me." Rhys told the shadowsinger.

You watched as a grimace overtook the High Lord's face, watching your entire night get played in his head.

"Yeah, the three of us aren't allowed to be alone together anymore." Rhys stated with a horrified look on his face.

"We want to know!" Cass complained.

Rhys replayed everything in your and Cass' mind. There was nothing but silence for a few moments.

"I'm deeply sorry." You told Cass with a grimace.

"You pulled my tooth out!" Cass shouted, jumping up.

"In her defense, you did tell her, 'I bet you can't pull my tooth out.'" Rhys added.

Azriel pulled your chair closer to him, wrapping an arm around you. The three of them might be idiots but he loved them and felt grateful for his family.

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[olenvasynyt]

I say this with as much contempt as physically possible: I do not understand how you can believe Tamlin gave his father info on Rhysand’s sister and mother willingly. Tamlin? The male who is stubborn to a fault, who holds his tongue, who is so incredibly loyal it’s to his own detriment, who refuses to tell Feyre or Lucien or literally anyone his plans?? Who hated his father and Amarantha, who said this in ACOTAR when Feyre asked him if he fought in the war?

“I was a child at the time, too young to understand what was happening—or even to be told…But had I been old enough, I would have. Against slavery, against tyranny, I would gladly go to my death, no matter whose freedom I was defending.”

You’re telling me he willingly told his father—a slaver, a tyrant, a horrible male—where his friend’s family was? Nah man, sorry. I 100% believe Tamlin’s father tortured him for that information and Rhys’ singular side of the story does not change my opinion.

[courtofcravings]

Everyone Knew (1)

Cassian x Reader

After realizing you're hopelessly in love with your best friend, a night out at the bar takes an unexpected turn when unresolved feelings become the topic of the night.

Mutual pinning, Slight angst, Fluff Warnings: Drinking, border line nswf (but only make out) Completed Series - Read part 2 here

“You could, perhaps, try talking to him…” Feyre suggested, lifting her glass to her lips, “I mean, how long do you think you can avoid him?” She added, with a pointed look

“Would forever be too long?” you muttered, staring into your nearly empty drink. Tonight was supposed to be a break—a brief escape from your endless pining. Somehow, though, it had turned into an interrogation.

“You’re acting pathetic,” Nesta grumbled from beside her sister. “Just talk to him. He is only a man.”

“I tried,” you whined, throwing a pleading glance at the girls. You really had tried—more than once. The problem was that every time Cassian’s eyes lingered on yours for too long, your brain short-circuited, leaving you speechless and rulling any possibility of confessing: utterly impossible.

“Tried,” Nesta repeated mockingly, a smirk curling her lips. “If you call drooling over him and bolting out of every room he’s in trying, then sure.”

“She gets flustered,” Feyre said, reaching across the table to pinch your warming cheeks. “It’s not her fault.”

“Exactly!” you mumbled, swatting Feyre’s hands away. “Every time I look at him, words just… don’t form… into complete thoughts.” You groaned, slumping back. You weren’t exactly the drooling mess Nesta made you out to be—at least, you hoped not—but lately, you’d definitely been frazzled.

A poorly muffled laugh broke from the man sitting on Nesta’s other side—silent for so long, you’d almost forgotten he was there.

“I hardly see how you find this so amusing, Azriel,” You scolded, shooting him a sharp look.

Azriel’s eyes flicked to yours for a brief second before darting back to the other girls. “I’ve never seen her acting so… odd,” he said, shaking his head. “And neither has he.”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” you grumbled, crossing your arms. “I am not acting weird.”

“Besides becoming a moping mess?” Nesta quipped, her lips curling into a sly smirk.

“He knows you’re avoiding him,” Azriel said flatly. “And that’s… odd behavior. You two are normally inseparable.”

“You told him I was avoiding him?” you accused, your heart beating a little faster.

“No,” Azriel replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Skipping practice for the third time this week clued him in. He didn’t stop complaining about it during sparring today.”

“Wait… he’s upset with me?” you asked, a knot forming in your chest.

The last few weeks had been overwhelming. Realizing just how deeply you loved your best friend had been consuming. He had been consuming. The mere thought of stepping into a ring with him, his large, strong hands on you, made your pulse race.

“I never said he was upset with you,” Azriel corrected, arching a brow.

“But he’s complaining about me?”

“Not about—” Azriel sighed, his tone edging toward exasperation. “Would you just talk to him?” His frustration showed in the slight crease of his brows, his patience clearly wearing thin.

“And say what?” you muttered, more to yourself than anyone else. Just having a fraction of his attention made you flustered—having all of it? You were sure you’d melt on the spot.

“Literally, anything.” Nesta answered.

With a scoff, you laced your fingers together dramatically, resting your chin on them. “Oh, my dearest friend,” you began, your voice dripping with mock sincerity. “I hate to ruin our valuable friendship, but our friends think it is vital that I inform you of how completely, utterly head over heels I am for you.”

You paused just long enough to grab the glass Feyre had left in front of you, tossing back its contents in a single gulp. The alcohol burned its way down your throat, making you wince. But as you set the glass down, all traces of mockery vanished, your tone softening to something achingly earnest.

“Every morning, I wake up sad because you aren’t beside me, and I fall asleep just as bitter. Truly, though, that's the least of my problems…” Your voice faltered for just a moment before you pressed on. “Because I haven’t the faintest idea how to act around you anymore. And I miss my best friend.”

“Yes, say it exactly like that,” Feyre said, her soft smile full of encouragement.

“That was… actually very romantic,” Nesta added, her usual sharpness tempered by genuine surprise.

“As if I could ever say that—Oh!” you groaned, digging your hands through your hair in pure frustration. “Did I tell you what he said yesterday? About how excited he was to pin me under him?” Your voice cracked, and the words spilled out in a hurried, breathless rush.

You knew Cassian had meant it in the context of sparring, but the unintended suggestion had completely scrambled your thoughts. “How am I supposed to train with him now?” you muttered, shaking your head and pressing your palms to your temples. “The thought of me under him, or worse, me on top of him… Cauldron.”

Azriel, caught off guard, sputtered into his drink, his usually stoic composure vanished as he coughed and gasped for air. Feyre, her face flushed with suppressed laughter, pressed a fist to her mouth in an attempt to control herself. Nesta didn’t bother to hide her wide grin.

“This is not helping.” You groaned, burying your face in your hands.

“Neither is skipping training,” Nesta quipped.

“This is all your fault!” you snapped, spinning to point an accusing finger at the trio. “You three just had to point out that I loved him. You couldn’t leave it alone—you all just had to be right!” You were ready to argue further, but their expressions gave you pause. Instead of guilt or concern, they were all smiling at something behind you.

“Gonna be honest, Y/n…” A chill crept into your stomach as you heard a very amused familiar voice.. “Didn’t think that line would work.”

You froze, the air rushing from your lungs as you turned around. “Cass!” The unintelligible squeak that followed was a sound you were certain had never left your lips before. Your voice climbed a pitch higher, your heart hammering so fast you feared it might escape your chest entirely and throw itself at the man standing before you. “Cass—Cassian! You’re, uh, here. Why? Uh… why are you”—you swallowed hard, your throat painfully dry—“here?”

Behind you, the chorus of girlish giggles from your so-called friends did nothing to steady the waver in your voice. Cassian’s arms crossed loosely over his large chest, his posture casual, but his eyes anything but. They raked over you with an intensity that left you rooted to the spot. “I heard you went drinking without me.”

“Is that… what you heard?” you stammered, your voice faltering as you struggled to keep your composure. “What else—what else did y-you hear?” You couldn’t tear your gaze from his hazel eyes, the intensity making your heart race.

“Enough to piece together why you’ve been—well, avoiding me.”

“Have I?” you asked, feigning confusion as you awkwardly scratched at the back of your neck. Cassian’s lips twitched, his amusement rising alongside the arch of one dark brow.

“I’ll get us a round,” you blurted out, inching toward the edge of the booth. The plan to escape was short-lived, though, as Cassian’s arm shot out, blocking your path. Two shot glasses clinked against the table as he set them down with a smug grin.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Cassian chuckled to himself as he squeezed into the booth, his broad frame leaving you no choice but to shuffle further back. “We should talk.”

“A talk? You and I?” you asked, your voice high-pitched with forced casualness as you plastered on a tight smile. “It’s a girl’s night—we can talk later… or never. Never works for me.”

Cassian’s grin grew. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if struggling to decide what to say first. His eyes flicked to Azriel, who sat stiffly at the far end of the booth, before returning to you. “Girl’s night, huh?” Cassian drawled. “But Az is sitting right there.”

“No, I’m not,” came the shadowsinger’s low, muttered reply.

You barely had time to blink before the sound of Azriel getting up filled the booth. Disappearing into the crowd without so much as a backward glance, leaving you alone with Cassian. Feyre and Nesta, you realized belatedly, had also vanished at some point. Traitors.

“Coward!” you yelled after Azriel, your frustration swallowed by the chatter in the bar.

“Says the kettle to the pot,” Cassian quipped, his smirk turning devilish as he reached for the bottle Azriel had left behind, taking a long swig. He set it down, leaning back as his gaze pinned you in place. “I’ve never seen you act so… flustered before. It’s cute.”

“I—” The word barely escaped your lips, snagging on the lump forming in your throat. Cute. He called you cute. Like you were some kind of child.

Mortified, you buried your face in your hands, as if that would somehow block out the world—and him. Heat flooded your cheeks, and his presence, so close, so warm, only made it worse. “Can you just pretend you didn’t hear any of that?”

“Y/N, would you just—”

“Please—pretty please?” you cut him off with a groan, your voice tinged with desperation. You just needed him to let it go, to move on, to give you even a moment of reprieve.

But the sound of your plea died in your throat as two large, warm hands gently wrapped around your wrists, pulling them away from your face with surprising tenderness. His touch sent a wave of buzzing exhilaration coursing through you.

His breath fanned against your ear, and you flinched at just how close he was. Too close. There was no hiding the heat crawling up your neck and settling in your cheeks.

“W-What?” you stammered, completely losing track of whatever he had just said. Your eyes flicked to his lips, watching as he caught his bottom lip between his teeth, a faint smile tugging at the corners.

“Why would I do that?” he repeated, his voice low and deliberate.

“Because… because it’s easier,” you admitted softly, the words tumbling out before you could catch them.

Cassian’s brows drew together, a flicker of confusion shadowing his expression. “Is it?” he murmured, leaning in ever so slightly. His teasing smile returned, softer but no less disarming. “Because it looks like you’re struggling quite a bit.”

“Cauldron, Cass… please.” Your voice wavered, breaking under the strain of your emotions. “I—I can’t. Don’t tease me about this. I can’t…”

The raw and fragile plea hung in the air. Your wrists went limp in his grasp, as if surrendering would somehow make it easier. Maybe if you stayed quiet, he’d let it drop—let you go so you could disappear into the safety of your blankets at home and pretend this moment had never happened.

Instead, he loosened one hand, his fingers brushing against your face as he gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His knuckles lingered, grazing your cheek with a tenderness that sent shivers down your spine. You told yourself not to, begged, but you leaned into his touch anyway.

“This is why you’ve been acting so…” His knuckles trailed downward, leaving a scorching path to your neck. The sensation was maddening, each inch sending waves of heat and goosebumps alike coursing through your skin. “…so distant?”

You swallowed hard, words trapped under the weight of his steady gaze. His fingers brushed lightly over your throat, as his hazel eyes searched yours, waiting.

“Yes.” The word was barely a breath

“I thought I did something to piss you off.” His hand slid from your wrist, trailing slowly up the bare skin of your arm. Every brush of his fingers left a trail of fire in their wake. “I hounded Az about it for weeks,” he continued, voice low and laced with something unspoken. His touch traveled over your shoulder and down your back, finally settling on your waist—where it fit like it belonged.

“You did?” The question barely made it past your lips, as soft and fragile as your resolve under his gaze.

“Needed to know why things changed.” His grip on your waist tightened slightly, warm and possessive, his thumb pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. “I hated the distance you put between us.”

“Cass—”

“Promise me, Y/N.” His voice dropped, low and intimate, the weight of his words sinking deep into the charged space between you. “Tell me you won’t ever do that again.” His hazel eyes bore into yours, sharp yet devastatingly tender. “Alright, Cassian.” You whispered it, though it felt more like a surrender than a promise.

He used his hold on your waist to draw you closer, your bodies nearly flush. His face hovered just inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Promise me you’ll talk to me when something’s bothering you,” he murmured, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your waist that sent shivers rippling through you.

“I promise.” The words came out on an exhale, barely audible over the pounding of your heart. The air between you felt heavier, thick with tension.

“You even went drinking without me,” he added, the playful pout on his lips disarming in contrast to the intensity of the moment.

You couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped you, your heart warming despite the charged atmosphere. “Cauldron, Cass, really?”

His grin softened, but his eyes never left yours. “I missed my best friend, too.”

You sat up straighter, planting your palms on his chest to create just enough distance to breathe. “I—I still don’t know how I’m supposed to act around you anymore… how to go back.” Frustration bubbled up, and you groaned, scrubbing your hands over your face without a care for the smudge of your makeup. “I need a drink.”

“Go back…” he echoed under his breath. His hand slid away from your waist as he reached for a shot, the absence of his touch a sudden, jarring loss. “I thought I’d get you drunk enough tonight to spill what the fuck was on your mind.” “I’m surprised you didn’t know.” You grimaced, taking the chilled glass from him and pressing it to your flushed face. The coolness was a welcome relief against the heat simmering beneath your skin. “Everyone knew. Literally. Everyone.”

Cassian’s wings twitched, tension rippling through him. “Yeah, I’ll be having some words with them later,” he muttered darkly, the sharp edge to his voice offset by the warmth in his eyes. He downed his shot, the sharp scent of liquor mingling in the air between you, intoxicating in its own way.

“I begged them not to tell,” you admitted, dazed as you watched his tongue dart out to catch the last drop of alcohol from his lips. Your breath hitched. Those lips—the way his tongue moved—flashed through your mind. The memories of sleepless nights, haunted by dreams of him, surged hotly. Your pulse faltered, and a tight, burning heat spread through your chest.

Your face flushed even deeper, the heat not just from embarrassment, but from the way Cassian’s gaze locked with yours, that knowing grin spreading across his lips like he could read your thoughts. You reached for the shot, desperate to regain some composure.

“Hey!” A sudden pinch to your waist jolted you, causing the alcohol to spill across your neck. You winced "Why’d you do that?" You reached for the spill, but his hand shot out to firmly grasp your wrist.

"Sorry, Y/n," he murmured, his voice low and laced with intent. “I wanted another taste.” His gaze fell to the liquor on your skin, and his body leaned closer, his presence nearly overwhelming. “Let me clean that for you.”

“Cassian, what are–” Your words caught in your throat, and you didn’t have the chance to finish as his warm tongue followed the path of the spilled drink, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. The surprise melted into a soft whine as his mouth moved to your neck, sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin there. He paused, pressing a chaste kiss to your fluttering pulse point.

“I’m surprised you didn’t know,” he murmured, his words a quiet echo of your own. But you barely registered them, lost in the heat of his touch. A soft chuckle rumbled from him as your fingers instinctively tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.

“Everyone knew,” he breathed, his lips brushing your collarbone before returning to the crook of your neck, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. A breathy moan escaped you as his hands lifted you further onto him. “Literally everyone,” he whispered, teasingly repeating your words.

You could barely process what he was saying, not with his lips tracing your skin and his strong hands gripping you like he couldn’t get enough. Your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging gently, drawing a low groan from him that vibrated against your throat.

“How am I supposed to focus on what you’re saying,” you gasped, the words tumbling out between uneven breaths, “when you’re touching me like that… making sounds like…” You swallowed hard as his hand moved to rest lightly against your throat, the pressure intoxicating. “That?”

Cassian’s eyes darkened with amusement as he pulled back slightly, just enough to create a small space between his lips and your skin. A knowing, cocky smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“You want me to stop?” he asked, his voice rich with teasing, each word a challenge.

“No—Maybe.” Your thoughts tangled into knots, the weight of his closeness stealing any coherent response. The idea of kissing him—of what it would mean after—tugged at you. Your lips quivered under the weight of unspoken words, and Cassian’s eyes dropped to them, his thumb brushing against the bottom one in a slow, deliberate motion.

“Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d see you this flustered over me,” he breathed, his voice a velvety murmur. “So cute… It’s everything.”

The words hit like a bucket of cold water. The amusement in his expression, the teasing—it felt like a joke to him, just something to feed his ego. Something inside you snapped, and you pulled away, raw frustration and embarrassment bubbling up to the surface. “Stop saying things like that,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you pushed against his chest, breaking free from his arms. His grip slackened just enough for you to pull away completely.

“Y/n, wait—” Cassian’s voice was strained, a thread of alarm creeping into his tone.

“No!” you shot back, your voice trembling with emotion. “Stop. It’s not cute. I’m not some… some game for you to amuse yourself with for the night, Cassian.”

“What?” He looked stunned, his brows furrowing in confusion as he reached for you again. “That’s not what—hold on!”

“I need air,” you muttered, your voice cracking. His hands reached out, desperate to stop you, but you slipped out of the booth before he could catch hold of you.

You didn’t look back as he called your name, his voice rising above the music and chatter. Instead, you moved quickly, weaving through the bodies on the dance floor. Your calculated escape took you through the densest part of the crowd, where his large frame wouldn’t be able to follow as quickly.

[moonlightazriel]

Baby bumps and cookie crumbs /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Azriel comes home from a mission to find his mate bonding with his family.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,2K

Notes: A little Christmas spirit for this blog since my Christmas won’t be that good.

Main Masterlist

Azriel sighed, removing his boots by the door, the house quiet, the only sound being the soft steps as his feet made it to the master bedroom. Whenever he came home from a mission he would find her there, tangled in the blankets, snoring softly and with a serene expression adorning her beautiful face.

But to his surprise, the house was empty, his warrior instincts kicking in. He held the truth teller in between his fingers, searching around the house for her, but she wasn’t anywhere. Her scent was the only lingering in the air, which made him relax a bit.

With solstice preparations she was probably out in town, but he couldn’t help thinking the worst whenever she was out of his sight. As if sensing his distress, he felt three pulls in his chest, and the bond hummed with life. He took a deep breath, going back to the bedroom so he could have a bath.

A knock sounded by the door, and Azriel went to answer, towel hanging on his hips and another one drying his hair. He opened the door, rolling his eyes at Cassian’s whistle.

“If I knew you would be in the shower, I would’ve come earlier.” He mocked, shoving Azriel aside so he could make himself comfortable on his couch.

“Where’s my mate?” He asked, leaving Cassian in the living room so he could get dressed.

“At the River House, everyone’s there.” Cassian's voice was muffled, and when Azriel got back to the living room, fully dressed and fixing the beanie over his hair, Cassian had a whole cupcake in his mouth.

“Hey, those were mine.” He slapped Cassian’s head.

“It’s not my fault your mate cooks like an angel.” Cassian cleaned the frosting around his mouth and aimed for the door. “I was sent to get you, so let’s go.”

“After you.” Azriel motioned for him to go first, locking the door behind him.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Indeed everyone was there, the house filled with joy and laughter, the whole place was warm, and he thanked Lucien mentally, cuz the short flight to the River House was cold even for him. The redhead was by the fireplace, shoving wood into the fire.

“Hey man, thanks for that, it’s freezing out there.” Cassian said, squeezing Lucien’s shoulder, to which the male just smiled, nodding his head.

“Azriel!” He greeted, and he greeted back. He wanted to find his mate, his body buzzing with energy to be with her. “Y/N is in the kitchen with the other females.” Lucien winked and Azriel thanked him.

He crossed the house until reaching the kitchen, pushing the double doors open, the space was a mess, Feyre was sitting with a happy smile, sipping in her wine. Nesta was by her side, resting her head on her shoulder, the two sisters watched the scene unfold.

With a thin layer of flower covering her hair, Y/N was giggling, pinching Nyx’s cheeks as the boy screamed in joy. Elain was by her side, trying to mix what looked like cookie dough.

“Now, help aunt Elain with the chocolate chips.” She gave him the package and the boy slowly added them into the mix.

Azriel took a deep breath, the smell of pastries, wine and life growing filled his senses. Y/N turned to him, her face glowing in happiness as she spotted him watching her from the doorway.

She walked to him, and she tried to wrap her hands around his neck to pull him in for a hug, but a 9 months pregnant belly got in the way, preventing her from holding him like she wanted, making her adorably pout.

“I love our baby, but I can’t wait to get rid of this belly.” She smiled and Azriel felt his heart melting.

“Maybe this helps?” He suggested turning her around and hugging her from behind, head resting in the crook of her neck and hands cupping her belly, holding the weight for her. Y/N leaned into him, moaning a bit too loudly.

“Ew, get a room.” Nesta groaned.

“When you’re carrying a baby and your mate holds the weight for you, let’s see if you’re not going to be moaning like a lady from the pleasure hall.” Feyre poked her sister’s side, prompting Nesta to wiggle away from her.

“Uncle Az.” Little Nyx grabbed his legs, making grabby hands towards the male. Azriel scoped him up, kissing the boy’s cheek.

“How are you doing buddy?” The boy looked at him.

“We’re making bat cookies. Aunty Y/N and Aunty Elain are the best at making them.” Y/N giggled.

“Only because we have the best assistant in the world.” Nyx turned to her, lowering his body until he kissed her belly.

“When I’ll get to play with my cousin?” He asked and his mother shimmed in, grabbing him from Azriel’s lap.

“Soon baby, soon. Now let’s get clean for dinner.” She took the baby away.

“You should get cleaned too, you’re covered in flour.” He pulled her as close as possible, brushing the white powder from her head. He lowered until he captured her lips in a gentle kiss. “I missed you two.”

She reached for his face, caressing his cheek, tracing the contour of his lips, like she could never get enough of looking at him.

“We missed you too, Azzy.” The shadowsinger led his mate to the dinner room where everyone was gathering. He scooted his chair closer to hers, never wanting to be apart, resting a hand on her belly.

“How is little Cassian doing?” The male asked, turning his attention to her.

“They are just fine, Cassian, we don’t know if it’s a boy or not.” She started.

“And…” Azriel sipped on his wine. “We’re not naming our child after you.”

“What?” Cassian scoffed. “Why not? And I’m sure it’s a boy.”

“No one knows that for sure Cass.” Y/N pointed, and Elain cleared her throat.

“I know.” She simply stated. “I had a vision last week.”

“You know?” Azriel asked in shock.

“Do you guys want me to tell you? I’m totally fine with keeping it a secret if that’s what you wish.” She smiled sweetly at them, Lucien had an arm around her shoulder in reassurance as Elain was still very shy about her powers.

Az looked at Y/N, the two didn’t need to have Daemati powers to communicate silently, they just knew each other that well.

“We do.” The two said in union. Elain felt her cheeks hot as all the eyes were on her now.

“You are going to be having a boy.” She shyly replied, just to be startled by Cassian's loud cheer, smacking the table.

“I told you little Cassian is on the way.” He pointed to the couple, forcing them to laugh along with him.

“Thanks Elain, that means a lot.” Y/N replied, smiling widely to the female.

That night, the family celebrated the new member, drinking wine and eating bat cookies that tasted absolutely delicious. And when Azriel took his mate home later that night, warming himself in her soft embrace. He ran his fingers through her hair.

“Our little boy will be here soon.” She whispered.

“I can’t wait to meet him.” He kissed her, feeling his chest full with love. “Our precious little boy.”

[inkedinshadows]

hi! can I get 34 + 21 with Cassian please? thanks!

Hunting For You

Pairing: Cassian x f!reader

Prompts: "Is that blood?" + "Baby, please, just look at me."

Warnings: angst, injury & blood

Word count: 867

When you didn’t come home at the time you’d said you would, Cassian didn’t think much of it. You would often run late when you were out shopping, lingering too long in front of a shop window or taking a long time to choose which top you wanted to buy—only to buy them both in the end.

But when dinner came and you still hadn’t returned, he started to worry. You hadn’t warned him that you would be this late. He tried to pull on the bond, but you didn’t answer.

Pacing in front of the door, he told himself he’d give you ten more minutes. In the meantime, he would keep trying to reach you through the bond, and if you still hadn’t arrived when the time was up, then he would come looking for you.

His eyes stared at the clock on the wall as if he could make time move faster. His shoulders were tense, his wings twitched, and not even a minute had passed when he yanked the door open and took to the skies.

You had mentioned the Palace of Thread and Jewels, so that was where he started. He searched the whole place, but most shops were already closed and there weren’t many people around at this hour. The few he talked to said they hadn’t seen you.

He searched the area close to the Palace, flying above the houses to have a wider view of the streets, yet low enough to recognize you or to catch a trace of your scent on the wind.

His mind had gone into full warrior mode. He wouldn’t let panic rise and fear cloud his thoughts. You still weren’t answering his constant tugs on the bond, but for all he knew, Mor and Feyre might have joined you while you were shopping, and then you had gone back to the townhouse with them, lost track of time while sipping wine, and were now fast asleep on the couch. You had never handled alcohol well.

He hoped that was what had really happened. He prayed to the Mother that it was just that.

Powerful beats of his wings carried him over streets and squares as he flew in wider circles over the city. Just as he considered checking the townhouse or Mor’s apartment and asking for his family’s help in case you weren’t there, a familiar scent reached his nose.

It was faint and mixed with a slightly metallic smell, but it was undoubtedly yours.

Cassian followed it to a dimly lit alley, where a figure leaned against the wall, struggling to walk or even stand upright.

He landed with a thud, wings folding behind him. “Y/N?” he called tentatively.

At the sound of his voice, you lifted your head. A choked sound came from you, and then you were stumbling forward. Cassian caught you before you could fall, holding you up when your legs seemed to fail you.

“Sweetheart, what…”

His voice faded as he pushed the hair out of your face and his thumb brushed over your sticky temple. The metallic scent filled his nostrils, but now he recognized it for what it really was.

“Is that blood?” he asked, gently turning your head to get a better look. Even in the dim light, there was no mistaking the cut near your hairline and the red trail down the side of your face.

Fury boiled inside him, his eyes already scanning the alley for any sign of threat. He found none.

You mumbled something incomprehensible, and his gaze snapped back to you. Your eyes were closed, your head dangling to the side as if you didn’t have the strength to hold it up.

This was his fault. If he had looked for you earlier, if he had come with you instead of letting you go alone, none of this would have happened.

“Sweetheart,” he called, gently cupping your face. “Baby, please, just look at me.”

Your eyes fluttered behind your eyelids, but they didn’t open. “Cass…” you whispered, your voice weak and barely audible.

Cassian swore, and you only groaned as he quickly gathered you in his arms and cradled you to his chest. Making sure your head rested on his shoulder, he unfolded his wings and took off once more, heading for Madja’s clinic.

“Baby,” he tried again as he flew as fast as he could. He had to keep you conscious, to make sure you didn’t pass out. “Talk to me, please. Can you tell me what happened?”

Your mouth barely moved as you spoke, your answer nothing more than a low rumble, but at least you were talking. Cassian could make out only a few words—bag, stole, money, males—and it was all he needed to piece together what had happened.

He brushed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you as he landed in front of Madja’s door.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” he promised, knocking a bit too forcefully on the wooden surface. “You’re safe now.”

He would first make sure you were okay, and then he would go out to find whoever had hurt you and make sure they paid for it.

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[aphroditeofcnidus]

If you actually think about the 500 gold marks bill, there's no way Nesta consumed all theese foods and drinks herself.The place was cheap,so that amount couldn't be due to expensiveness,it was because of quantity.Nesta bought food and drinks for poor people with Rhysand's money,so you could say she was a Robin Hood of sorts.

Some could argue that although Rhysand's fortune is the result of exploitation,that doesn't mean that Nesta is entitled to it.However, i don't think that those who say that Nesta feels entitled to Rhysand's money are right.Nesta is severely depressed and doesn't function well.Her getting a job isn't easy in that state and she's justified not to want to take Rhysand's pity offers.She leaves in a cheap apartment,not a luxurious house,with Rhysand's money and the money she spends on taverns feel like a necessity to her,to keep her feelings and power at bay.Nesta is forced to be around people,who hate her, while she's in a bad mental state at the Solstice party,because she has no other way to pay her rent and she's ashamed of having taken Feyre's money for that in Acosf.Her refusal to buy what Emerie offers to sell her to keep herself warm isn't because she knows that nobody would buy it for her.In reality,Feyre would probably buy it,to keep her from getting cold,even if Rhysand scoffed,but Nesta is too ashamed for the money she has taken from her sister,at that point.

Let's also,not forget, of course that Nesta was never paid her promised wages as an emissary.This show of reading the tavern bill aloud was actually shameful on Rhysand's behalf.He never paid her the salary he promised her,he knows about the mental state she's in and let's not forget that Nesta becoming Fae is partly his fault.Her depressed state is partly his fault and yet he shames her for spending an amount that is actually nothing to him.