#god just me too rita

[meganechan05]

When you're at a family event and you go into sensory overload...

[koschei-the-ginger]

Anyways after watching s5-8 and even New Blood, I can safely say that the show should have ended in after s4 because it doesn't actually matter if Dexter gets caught, or if someone kills him, or both at the same time (new blood lmao) cause that doesnt even mean all that much to him anyways. S4 was perfect in encapsulating how everything he could have ended differently had he not been an arrogant, self-centred asshole who spent his life deluding himself into believing he's above any other serial killer. None of the wannabe profound b/s they attempted in the later seasons hit as hard as the moment where Dexter realized he fucked up, knew that he had fucked up, yet did nothing until the consequences destroyed everyone around him. And he finally felt something real, remorse.

[addoves]

staring directly at my incoming homework assignment as i draw luke instead

[florencemtrash]

Bedsides and Breakfasts

Summary: After Azriel comes home battered and bruised, he refuses to eat the meal you've made him... Why?

Warnings: Angst, character injury, fluff

Author's note: For context, Y/n is Helion's bastard daughter. In an earlier draft of my other (very long) fic, The Shadowsinger and The Inkbird, this was going to be a scene that takes place after Azriel gets hurt during the Battle on the Lake where Y/n figures out Azriel is her mate. I wanted to finish it up and get it out there because I don't want to say goodbye to that story just yet and I wanted to get back into writing so.... here ya go!

The Townhouse sang quietly as it worked. Its melodies lay in the shifting curtains that shook off dust into the wind. Its lyrics in the whistling teakettle. You liked these sounds as you moved about the kitchen, preparing your tea and a crust of bread slathered with butter and jam. 

When the Townhouse was empty, you didn’t need to fear your power — there was no one around for you to touch and steal memories from. Mor had tried to drag you out to Rita’s that evening — “Rhys says you’ve learned to keep your Clairvoyance at bay! Come dancing with us!” — but you couldn’t muster the courage or the energy.

Besides, you were awaiting a certain Shadowsinger’s arrival. 

“Won’t you come back and make me your home? You who’ve stolen my heart as simple as a whisper, calm as a storm,” You hummed to yourself. You swore the Townhouse sighed in contentment. “Do you like my silly little songs then?” You mused. 

The lights shone a little brighter, crackling the air with a flicker of energy. 

You were singing about Azriel — of course you were — and blushing all the while. He’d been the first to truly speak to you — the first to notice you — and the embrace you’d shared in Rhysand’s office had left you breathless for days. You could still feel the ghost of his breath against your neck as you’d buried your face in the hollow of his throat. The cracked leather beneath your fingers and the short hairs at the base of his skull you’d caressed as lovingly as any flower. It was the first time you’d ever been touched like that. Like you were something worth holding onto. 

When he was gone, the Townhouse felt too empty. You felt too empty. Even now, the edges of your patience frayed like a worn shirt without him. 

You spent the evening’s hours combing through every book you’d managed to lug over from the Library. It was quick, but taxing work as every touch against the weathered binding allowed you to absorb its knowledge without you ever having to lay an eye on the page. 

When the candle flickered dangerously close to your books and the dull throbbing behind your eyes had gone on for too long, you blew out the light and could do no more than curl up on the sofa before falling fast asleep. 

The whispers of shadows woke you. You couldn’t understand the words hidden within their overlapping voices, but their panic and relief were heavy in the air. You could almost taste their meaning on your tongue.

“Y/n,” Azriel moaned. He leaned heavily against the open door, forcing it open against the drag of the carpet. His sword clattered to the ground before his knees. “Y/n,” he called out again, more urgently this time. He prayed to the gods you were home. He’d flown through the night, tattered wings struggling to keep him aloft, to make sure he’d see you again… just in case.

Blood and iron burned your nose and your sleep-swollen eyelids split open. “Az—” Your knee slammed against the coffee table in your struggle to escape the blankets. “AZ!” 

Azriel was always greedy for the sight of you, and that familiar tug in his chest tightened as you rounded the corner and sprinted towards him. You tripped where the hardwood ended and the carpet began, throwing his arm around your shoulder. 

He smiled softly at you. Three months ago, you’d been too afraid to touch anyone. Now here you were half-supporting his weight as he staggered to his feet. He stole a few precious seconds to lean his head into the crook of your neck and breathe in your scent. For a moment, he believed it would be enough to heal him.

“How bad is it?” 

“Three arrows in the right wing, two in the left. Fae bane.” 

“Anywhere else?” You both stumbled down the hallway back from where you’d come. 

“I may have been stabbed a few times.” He offered the piece of information casually, like he was complaining about the price of eggs.

“What’s a few?” Your eyes were wide as the moon. Searching, searching, searching for wounds.

“Ten?” 

Your growl tore through the quiet of the night. 

Your hands were slippery with blood, and Azriel almost slid out of your fingertips as you deposited him against the table. You flung your arms out over the hardwood tabletop sending bottles of ink, pens, and sheafs of papers clattering to the floor before rolling Azriel onto the top and forcing him to lay down.

Under the chandelier, Azriel looked ghastly. The warmth was drained from his skin and the hollows of his eyes and the fullness of his lips were tinged purple from cold. His eyes drifted apart from one another.

“I need you to stay awake.” 

“I will.” His words were slippery as soap on porcelain, syllables sliding into one another as he promised you he would be alright and that he had suffered worse before.  

“Stay awake!” You commanded him and his eyes sharpened ever so slightly on your figure as you tore through the cabinets in the corner. 

Where is it? Where is it? Glass bottles clinked and tottered on rounded bottoms. There! 

You snatched one of the pale green bottles lining the back wall and bit off the cork top with a grimace, spitting it out onto the floor. You could taste the medicine inside coat your teeth with an acrid film. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” You slapped Azriel’s cheeks to keep him awake. “Drink this.” 

Azriel’s lips parted immediately and he accepted every bitter drop you forced down his throat. It wasn’t a cure, but it would help stabilize him long enough for help to arrive. In the time it took for you to call out to Rhys and light the candle that would wake Madja and call her to the Townhouse, Azriel’s cheeks had flushed with some more color. 

The sight did little to ease your worries as you worked on unbuckling the straps of his armor. Piece by piece they fell away with a wet thud on the ground. 

He grabbed your wrist before you could run in search of something to cut off the clothes clinging to him like a second skin. Elain had left gardening shears on the back porch. Perhaps the kitchen had scissors?

“Stay.” He begged. “Please stay.”

“Rhys and Madja will be here soon. I just need to get something to help you.” 

“Then stay.” His grip turned desperate, short nails digging into your forearm. “Stay and help me. Don’t leave me.” 

Azriel might have smiled if he wasn’t in so much pain. His hand slid up the curve of your arm to hold your neck, thumb tracing the line of your jaw. 

“I wanted to see you just in case.” His chest rattled with the effort, “Gods, I missed you.” 

He’d been gone weeks on the Continent, scrounging after every whisper of Koschei’s name as far as the eastern mountains. He’d scavenged and raged. Killed and tortured. And he’d missed you all the while. It was what had possessed him to fly all the way to Velaris, when he would have been better off breaking into the Day Court and throwing himself at the mercy of Helion — your father. 

You felt the tears prick at your eyes, angry and hot. “If you say another fucking word like you’re about to die, I will kill you myself.” You were not prone to violence, and Azriel felt some pride that he could elicit such an emotion from you. 

Luckily for you both, Azriel didn’t get a chance to say anything else, and you didn’t get a chance to murder him before Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, and Madja were bursting through the front door and following the blood-red trail to the dining room. 

Azriel squeezed your hand once more. “Stay with me.”

“Where else would I go, Az?” You whispered, pressing a quick kiss to the palm of his hand before the others crowded close. 

You stayed at the head of the table, one hand always holding onto Azriel’s. He swallowed his pain, the faintest groans slipping from his lips as arrows were pulled out inch by bloody inch. It was no easy thing to endure, not even for Azriel. Wicked barbs lined the arrow shaft and caught onto the delicate membrane of his wings no matter how Madja twisted, pushed, and pulled. 

One particularly harsh wrench had Azriel crying out, his nails digging into your arm and drawing blood. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, feeling your skin break beneath his nails. His skin was tinged green now. A sickly sheen covered his face and fell over his eyes. 

“It’s ok. It’s ok. Just look at me.” You grasped the sides of his face. “Look at me.” 

Once again, Azriel was ready to listen to your commands. His eyes never left yours, not once, until the last of the faebane-tipped arrows dropped onto the table with a menacing ring of metal on wood.

Feyre closed his wounds as best she could, but the flesh inside would take longer to heal. For now all they could do was carefully wipe the blood from his body and carry him up to his bedroom. 

You lingered by Azriel’s side long after he fell asleep, fingers twitching with nerves as you counted every slow and steady breath of his. 

“Y/n.” Feyre gently touched your arm. “He’ll be alright.”

You nodded, still watching Azriel sleep. Then, to your mortification, you burst into tears. Your clothes were drying stiff with sweat and blood — none of it yours — and the red handprints Azriel had left along your arms were turning to copper rust. 

She shushed you, softly tugging at your arms. 

“He-He asked me to stay,” you said between gulps of air. 

“He’d want you to be clean and well-rested, Y/n. Don’t let him wake up feeling guilty.” 

If it weren’t for Feyre, you would have remained glued to the floor of Azriel’s room until you became one of the faces trapped in the wooden floors. You let her lead you across the hall to your own room where she filled the tub with warm water and soap. 

“Shit,” you mumbled. Your fingers shook so much you couldn’t undo the buttons of your dress. Shadows, loose and long as stalks of grass, wound around your back, plucking the buttons undone without a word. 

“He’ll be alright.” Feyre repeated this phrase many times as you scrubbed off the night’s events and turned the water copper brown. The magic of the Townhouse whisked away the grime almost as quickly as it appeared until you sat in a sudsy bath, milky and clean.

“What happened to him, Fey?”

“From what Rhys and I can tell, Koschei had over a dozen archers lying in wait for when he returned to Prythian. We’ve already warned Helion.” 

You nodded. Your head felt heavy on your neck, like a doll with a snapped neck. 

“He nearly died.” Once the words were out in the open, fragile and pure, you broke down again, knees drawn up to your chest in the tub. 

“But he didn’t.” Feyre smoothed back your dripping hair. “It will take more than arrows and faebane for Death to steal him from us, Y/n.” 

Gods you hoped that was true, or else your heart might give out every time Azriel walked out the door. 

You returned to his side the moment you were clothed, hair still dripping onto his gray bed sheets as you leaned forward from your chair and held his hand. He slept on his stomach, wings flared out and peppered with white gauze like a patchwork quilt. Beneath the drape of his blankets you knew more gauze covered his chest and stomach, dotted with blood like blooming roses. 

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but you awoke to a deep ache in your back and a faint choir of voices in the air. 

Shadows. 

They kissed your cheeks, cool and soft, urging your eyelids open. Azriel was already awake and sitting up in bed with a grimace. One hand clutched his side and a leg hung over the edge of the bed, like he intended to stand. When he saw you, his hazel eyes widened. First in alarm. Then in guilt. 

“Az?” Your voice felt crusted with smoke and sleep and you did what you could to straighten the crook in your neck and your spine from the odd position you’d fallen asleep in. ““You’re not supposed to be sitting up.” Your bones cracked obnoxiously as you moved for the first time in hours, and the guilt in his gaze deepened. 

You pressed lightly against his chest, feeling the gauze scratch your skin, but he did not budge. 

“Az, you need to lay down. What were you even doing up?” 

Azriel’s eyes flickered off to the side. “I was… I was trying to move you to the bed.” 

You swallowed your yawn and blinked in disbelief. “Azriel, you’ve just been shot and stabbed. You need to lay back down.” 

He grabbed your wrists, tugging you forward until you almost collapsed against his chest. “There’s space on the bed. I want you to be comfortable.” 

“The chair is fine, and you are hurt. Now, please—” He did not move. No matter how you reasoned with him. No matter how you tried to shove him back beneath the covers.

“I will lay back down under one condition.” 

You frowned. He was much more stubborn when he was injured. “What condition?” 

“Sleep on the bed. There’s plenty of room.” 

“Az—” 

“Please.” His hands slipped into yours, fingers pressing against the pulse of your wrists. “Y/n, I will be comforted with you beside me.” He held up his finger before you could sleep. “And not in that gods-awful chair. You’ll wake up crooked.”

“I’m not a stalk in a storm,” you grumbled, because it only seemed appropriate that you should fight him on this. Otherwise, you’d have to admit that the thought of melting into his bed set off fireworks in your stomach, exciting and terrifying at the same time. You’d also have to admit the scent of mountain air embedded in every inch of his room brought you comfort. You could lay your head on his pillows and sleep for an eternity. 

I shouldn’t be here. But you let him tug you closer to him. You slid your legs over his waist, calves catching on the waistband of his pants and dragging in a way that had your heart leaping into your stomach until you were safely on the other side of him. 

Azriel’s bed was massive — over 12 feet across to better accommodate the span of his wings. You moved as far away from him as you could without eliciting offense and stared at the window. 

Your muscles clenched as he shifted closer to you, wings rustling against the silk sheets and whispering as he got comfortable. Every time he so much as shifted, your back prickled, as though you had eyes there that shifted to soak up every inch of him. 

He’s hurt and I’m taking up space and—

He reached out his arm and his fingertips brushed against the curve of your back. You stiffened like you’d been struck by lightning. If Azriel were awake, he would have apologized and wrenched back his hand as if burned. But he was fast asleep and the touch was a natural movement he made in his dreams where he was imagining that you were closer to him. So close that he could breathe down your neck and feel you melt beneath his touch. 

You didn’t sleep, as much as the lull of his breathing threatened to sink you into sweet and comforting dreams. The sky was but a lighter shade of black when you were slipping out of bed with barely a whisper. Miraculously, Azriel did not awaken, and his shadows ghosted over the floors drowsily.

You were no stranger to dawn as you padded down to the kitchens. You hummed to yourself, cracking eggs over a well-greased skillet with onions, tomatoes, and peppers tossed in. They bobbed up and down in a sea of yellow like ducks on water. Potatoes browned to your right, their skins crackling and spitting grease as bacon popped and sizzled beside them. 

You ate as you went, plating the final meal for Azriel, who—if you knew anything about him—would be waking shortly after the first rays of sunlight split his shadows in two. 

You slipped back into his room as quietly as you’d left, and then nearly leapt out of your skin to find a dark mass of shadow covering the bed. 

“You’re awake,” you said blankly. 

Azriel propped himself up onto his elbows, back rippling as he forced his stiff and swollen wounds to stretch until he could sit up in bed. 

“Where did you go?” There was but a faint slur to his words. “You weren’t here when I woke up.” 

“I was making breakfast.” You dragged over the ottoman from the foot of his bed as a makeshift table. “Did you brush your teeth already?” Not that it mattered. A sour mouth wouldn’t keep him from a meal if he was hungry. 

The flash of fear in his eyes was so subtle, so brief, that you missed it. 

“I’m not hungry.” 

“Well that doesn’t really matter. Madja said you should eat first thing. Oh!” You plucked a purple glass bottle from his bedside table. “And she said to drink this with a meal.” You pushed it into his hands, reluctant as they were to take the stoppered bottle from you. 

“I can’t imagine eating right now.” He said, shaking his head. His cheeks puffed out and he swallowed hard. “The smell… it’s… I can’t stomach it.” 

You frowned at that. He liked your cooking. It was only due to circumstance that you hadn’t been able to cook for him in months. 

“Can you please try?” you begged. “Just a bite.”

His skin turned pallid and the dark marks beneath his eyes stood out. He picked up a fork with a trembling hand, stuck it into a potato, then dropped it as if it burned. Suddenly, he regretted asking you to stay the night. Guilt ate away at his stomach, twisting it like spaghetti on a fork. 

You sighed in dejection. “I’ll bring it back downstairs.” You said. You began collecting the silverware from where you’d left them by his side. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, catching your wrist in his hand. 

You smiled softly. “Try and get some rest.” 

“Will you be back?” His words caught you by the door. 

“You won’t even realize I was gone.” 

He doubted that very much. Still, he settled back in bed, rolling onto his stomach to keep its rumbling at bay. He was quite hungry. 

You closed the door behind you, carrying the untouched plate of eggs and potatoes. Cassian stopped his whistling as he made his way down the hall, a teasing smile playing at his lips until he caught sight of your dejected expression. 

“What’s got our resident Librarian frowning? Did someone misplace a book in the House?” 

You didn’t rise to Cassian’s jests. You cast a sullen glance back at Azriel’s door like it was personally responsible for everything, and shrugged. “He hasn’t eaten since he’s been back and I’m starting to get worried. I read up on Illyrian anatomy weeks ago and he should be fine enough to eat by now.” 

Cassian leaned down, taking a careful sniff of the plate before grabbing hold of a butter and rosemary roasted potato and plucking it in his mouth. It was cold and the butter had hardened into a greasy slick, but it was still good. He told you as much as he walked with you back to the kitchens, stealing slivers of potato as he went.

“It’s nice to know my cooking’s not at fault.” 

Cassian jerked back in surprise and sudden understanding. “You made him that?”

“Yes. I know the House has its own will, but I like to cook. And it still feels strange having food just appear out of nowhere.”  

Cassian fought with all his might to keep the cheeky grin from his face. 

Poor Azriel, forced to go hungry because he was still too much of a sheepish fool to tell you about the mating bond let alone accept it. 

He clicked his tongue. He loved his brother to the grave and back, but Azriel had a horrible habit of getting trapped in his own mind. Cassian had hoped you would help with that, given you suffered similarly. 

“I wouldn’t take it too personally. Azriel’s a picky eater. Always has been.”

That was a complete and utter lie. Growing up in the Illyrian war camps meant you either starved or ate whatever gray-brown mush you could get your hands on. Rhysand and Azriel had been quicker to move on from the rugged Illyrian lifestyle, and Rhysand especially had used his High Lord privileges to cultivate a refined and expensive taste, but if they were hungry and limited they didn’t give two shits what went in their mouths. 

“I didn’t realize you could afford to be picky in a war camp,” You grumbled. You dropped the plate’s contents onto a skillet, patiently waiting for the House to light a toasty fire. There was no need to let good food go to waste.   

You thought over it, some minor irritation settling in that the Shadowinger had rejected the food you’d worked to make. It really didn’t make sense that Azriel would be so particular about food. Or anything for that matter. He’d always struck you as the practical, bare-bones sort, and you knew him well enough now to know that was true. His very job required it of him. But then again you couldn’t remember the last time he’d accepted any food that you’d offer-

You froze. Oh. Oh.

The first night he’d visited your apartment in the Day Court, he’d refused your tea and cakes before leaving abruptly. You’d agonized over that night for months, trying to figure out what you might have done to scare him off. But he’d been so kind and shy afterwards and then the whole matter of Koschei had arose and you’d never given it much thought because he just seemed so familiar and... Oh. OH-

“BASTARD!” You spat out in shock. The skillet dropped to the stove with a sharp cry that had Cassian blinking. He’d never seen you like this. So…agitated.

Had you always been this dull? A year ago you might have been able to blame it on your naïveté, but you weren’t so socially misinformed now and yet this was a bit much. And… oh you couldn’t wrap your head around your own stupidity to even begin to think about a mating bond with…

A mating bond with Azriel. You… you were his mate. He was yours. And you were his. And suddenly the pieces of it were falling into place so quickly you thought you might be crushed beneath the weight. 

Mate.

Even the thought of the word crashed around your mind incessantly, like an anxious dog trying to settle down to sleep. Yet it all made such perfect sense. The way Azriel always found you when you were in danger or grieving. The awful days when Azriel had been away and you’d felt like a piece of your body had been severed. The way that the world felt right when he was beside you. Maybe it was the bond, maybe it was just something born out of love, or maybe they were one and the same. It was impossible to tell but it didn’t change anything.

Mate.

Cassian glanced sideways at you and said cautiously, “We’re both bastards, Y/n. I don’t think that’s much of an insult coming from your mouth.”

Your eyes snapped to his, suddenly remembering that he was in the kitchen with you. You brandished a fork in your hand like a weapon, pointing the pronged end up at him like he was a piece of meat to be skewered. You were shorter than him, but the sharpness in your eyes made him pause.

“You.” Such a simple word, yet it sounded so threatening. “You knew didn’t you?”

Was he sweating? The room felt warm.

“I don’t know what-“ You snatched his wrist and with your magic, you stole the information from him that you needed. It was as easy as plucking a flower from a field. 

Fuck. Cassian groaned at the same time you did. You knew now. Not that you really needed confirmation from Cassian. Still. It was rather embarrassing to learn you were the last of… well everyone to know, even if it was your fault for not noticing the signs. In your defense you had been preoccupied with other matters…

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” You muttered, heating up the remaining food with a great deal of force before setting down a fresh tray, plate, utensils, and mug of tea on the countertop.

You keep muttering to yourself, your joy disguised by your embarrassment and no small amount of shock. Cassian watched nervously as you prepped the plate. 

You’d no sooner growled, “Move,” before Cassian leapt to the side and you set off out the door and down the hallway back to Azriel’s room.

She knows. One shadow whispered in his ear. Azriel felt his heart skyrocket and his stomach plunge to the cradle of his hip bones. 

She seems… upset.

Upset was a mild word. You were alight with every emotion possible — fury, fear, anxiety, excitement, love — and Azriel struggled to tease them apart. It was like he’d been hit in the chest by a tangle of snakes, each a writhing, living, ever-changing thing. One moment you seemed nervous, the next angry. 

“You.” Your knuckles were pale as they gripped the tray. Sunlight molded to your form like a crown, and it became all the more apparent that you were Helion’s daughter — his bastard daughter, but daughter nevertheless. 

He scrambled into a seated position just in time for you to drop the tray in his lap with a clatter that sent fork and knife skittering over the dish.

You looked down at the tray, then up at his eyes, wide and molten as amber. “You didn’t tell me.” You didn’t need to elaborate any further. 

“I didn’t think—”

“You’re right. You didn’t.” You blinked, suddenly shy. “Did I not make it clear enough that I liked you? That I loved—love you? Or perhaps you don’t… perhaps you don’t want me.” That was a possibility you hadn’t thought of in your excitement to see him again. 

Oh gods, you hadn’t thought of that possibility had you? You’d just aggressively thrown food at him, expecting that he would—

Azriel gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him again. Your cheeks were warm and painted with color. 

“I always worried I was reading into actions that meant nothing to you. But, never think for a moment that I don’t want you.” He smiled then, a shy, secret smile reserved for you. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you.” 

Now your cheeks were burning, but Azriel did not mind feeling this kind of heat on his hands. He let go of your chin, twirling a fork with his fingers like it was a knife. It was one of his few nervous ticks whose knowledge was reserved for the people he trusted. For the people he loved. 

“Being with me will put you in more danger than you know.” 

“But I expect it will bring me more happiness than I could have ever imagined.” You raised a hand up to his face, twisting away a stubborn curl of hair that fell over his forehead. “And you forget who my father is,” you reminded him. “Maybe it is I who will put you in danger.” 

“Maybe,” Azriel whispered. His breath fanned over your cheeks, soft and sweet. 

You picked up the fork, lifting it up in between you. 

“Eat.” You commanded him. 

Azriel smiled, plucking it from your fingers and stabbing a potato. He sighed. “I never could deny you anything, and I would never want to,” he said, before chewing carefully. Cautiously. 

You blinked in surprise, instinctively taking a step away when you felt something new and warm begin to burn in your chest, like someone had taken a drop of the molten hazel in Azriel’s eyes and dropped it into your heart. 

“Oh.” You breathed. 

“Yes,” Azriel murmured, “An unusual feeling, I know.” He placed the tray beside him and he’d no sooner opened his arms before you’d buried your face in the crook of his neck. You wanted more of that warmth in your chest. You wanted to slip into Azriel's skin as close as possible to his beating heart. To feel the mating bond wrap around you both like a curtain to block out the rest of the world. 

Azriel groaned in pain, but would not let you leave his embrace. No pain had ever been worth so much. 

You forced him to finish eating, even though all he wanted was the taste of you on his lips. “Later,” you promised him. When he was healed and whole there would be more breathless kisses and urgent touches, but for now he had to content himself with eating his meal and drinking his draught. But he would not be denied the press of your skin against his as you slipped beneath the covers and curled up beside him. This time, you fell asleep quickly and your dreams came over you like water. 

[velarisdusk]

Unveiled Pleasures

Day 4: Virgin | Rhysand x Reader word count: 4.3k author’s note: this was not a kink i thought i had but during planning, the thought of rhys getting a dark look in his eyes, losing himself and going feral when he finds out…… yum :) ✦ . Kinktober Masterlist . ✦

A blizzard rages outside, snow swirling in the darkness. It’s been relentless; for two days, its winds clawed at windows and howled through the night. Snow accumulates in thick drifts outside, burying Velaris in a frosty silence. Inside the townhouse, the warmth of the fireplace provides a cozy, safe haven.

You and Rhysand are curled up together on the couch, wrapped in a heavy blanket. The house is quiet; Amren is back at her apartment, Cassian is in Illyria (Gods help him, you can’t imagine the storm there), Azriel’s away on reconnaissance, and Mor winnowed to the cabin last night, claiming she needed some “alone time.” But you had a feeling she just wanted to leave the two of you here, together. 

You’ve known each other for centuries, since you were all young and reckless, before the world became complicated. Over the years, you’ve become more than friends — you’ve become constant in each other’s lives, someone to rely on through war, heartbreak, and everything in between. For a while, there was something between you — something unspoken but undeniably there. The way his hands lingered when he touched you, or how you’d catch him looking at you a little too long.

But whatever it was, it never grew beyond that. Time passed, and eventually, it seemed like he’d moved on. You told yourself you had, too. You never let it become a big deal, never let it interfere with the easy friendship you shared. It was just… there, hovering in the background, a feeling you’d long since learned to live with. And now was no different, chatting and playing card games on the couch, sharing a blanket by the fireplace. You would’ve thought it cliche if not for the fact that you’d been in this exact scenario more times than you could count — and nothing had happened.

Nothing will happen. 

“Place feels off,” you muse absently, shuffling the two cards in your hand as you consider your next move.

Rhysand chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair. “Off how? Too quiet without Cass?”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “Well, yeah, that… but also just calmer.” You glance up at him, noticing the way the firelight casts soft shadows across his face. “We’re usually out doing something or surrounded by other people. Just not used to this much quiet, I guess.”

He nods thoughtfully, drawing a card from the deck and placing it face up next to the 10 of clubs. Ace of hearts. “That’s true,” he agrees, glancing at the cards on the blanket. “But it’s a nice change of pace, don’t you think? A well-deserved one.”

You eye your own cards — 10 of spades and ace of clubs — two pair. You toss two peppermints into the makeshift betting pool. “Raise. It’s definitely safer,” you say with a shrug.

Rhys matches your bet, tossing in two more mints. “Safer? From what? Drunk fae trying to chat you up? Or Cassian making an ass of himself with every female in sight?” His brow quirks up as a grin spreads across his face. 

You burst out laughing, the image of Cassian’s failed attempts at flirtation all too vivid. “Both, actually,” you manage between fits of laughter, shaking your head. “That last time at Rita’s… that was something.”

Leaning back against the couch, he shakes his head with a mischievous grin. “Do you remember that awful line Cass used on that poor girl? Something about his sword and–”

You burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. “Oh gods, don’t remind me. He really thought he was being clever.”

Rhys chuckles, rubbing his jaw. “He always thinks he’s clever. Like this—” He suddenly leans toward you, his voice dropping into a ridiculous impression of Cassian’s deep tone. “You ever heard the phrase, ‘bigger the sword, bigger the—'”

You both dissolve into laughter before he can finish, your sides aching from how ridiculous it sounds.

He grins, gaze still playful as he mimics Cassian again, this time reaching out and gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “But then he’d get all serious,” Rhys murmurs, his voice dropping lower, soft and teasing now. “He’d do this… look into her eyes and say, ‘I could spend hours just watching the way you blush, imagining what else I could do to make you look like that.’”

The sudden shift in his tone and the warmth of his hand against your cheek make your breath catch. You freeze, the playful atmosphere suddenly charged. He holds your gaze, the firelight flickering in his violet eyes, and for a moment, it’s hard to remember this is supposed to be a joke. 

You laugh, but it’s quieter now, more nervous. “Cassian really said that?” you ask, but it’s hardly louder than a whisper. 

Rhys doesn’t drop his hand, his thumb absentmindedly brushing your skin as he looks at you. “Well,” he says softly, his smile softer now, uncertain. “Maybe not like that… but, I guess… something like it.” You feel your face grow warm, a quiet tension slipping between you. His eyes search yours, and something unspoken passes between you both — something neither of you can ignore anymore. 

His voice is quieter when he speaks again, as though he’s only just noticing the change himself. “You okay?”

The question feels loaded like there’s more behind it than just casual concern. You nod, but your voice is stuck in your throat. You can’t tear your gaze away from his. He’s still so close. Rhys leans in slightly, his thumb moving to brush along your jawline now, the motion slower, more deliberate than before. His eyes flicker over your features, lingering on your lips for just a second too long. 

You swallow, heart pounding. “Just… surprised.”

“Surprised?” His brow lifts slightly, but his tone is softer, more serious now. “By what?”

By the way his touch sends a ripple of heat through you, by how your heart races under the intensity of his gaze. You don’t say that though. Instead, you let out a shaky laugh, trying to play it off. “That you’re taking this Cass impression so seriously.”

Rhys huffs a quiet laugh, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His fingers pause for a second, lingering on your neck. He doesn’t move away. “I’m not, really… just… You’re looking at me differently,” he says softly, almost like he’s noticing it for the first time. The room feels suddenly smaller, the crackling fire and storm outside fading into the background. 

You hold his gaze, your heart pounding. There’s a question in his eyes, and you can’t help but feel the pull between you growing stronger. You’re both so close now, the warmth of his skin against yours more pronounced. 

Without breaking eye contact, Rhys’ hand gently slides down to rest at the back of your neck, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His gaze drops to your lips, and for a moment, time seems to stretch.

He leans in slowly, giving you the chance to pull away. His lips brush against yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s a slow exploration, a testing of the waters. When you don’t move away, his kiss deepens, his lips melding with yours as the warmth between you ignites into something more intense. 

As the kiss between you and Rhysand grows more heated, the heat becomes almost unbearable. Clothes are shed in a frenzy of passion, and you find yourself in your undergarments, sinking to your knees on the plush carpet before him. The firelight flickers across the room, casting a warm glow that dances over both of you. You start to reach for the waistband of his boxer briefs, but suddenly, uncertainty creeps in. Your hands falter, and you pull back just enough to look up at him, a mixture of nervousness and determination in your eyes.

“I’m not really sure what to do,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. “It’s my first time.”

Rhysand’s eyes widen, his expression shifting from surprise to an intense, almost reverent focus. He takes a moment to process your confession, clearly stunned.

He speaks softly, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief. “After all these centuries, you’re still–”

He pauses, searching for the right words. “You’re still a virgin?” His gaze sharpens, the intensity of his stare turning into something more primal. 

When your only response is a nod, a slow, hungry smile spreads across his lips. “Gods, that’s incredible,” he breathes, his voice low and tinged with a dark thrill. Leaning in, his breath warms your ear. “You have no idea how much that turns me on. The thought of being the first one to touch you like this…” His hand slides over your head, fingers threading through your hair with a possessive caress. “The first to make you feel things you’ve never…” He inhales deeply, his nose brushing against your neck, “–felt before…”

Rhysand pulls back slightly, his hand gently gripping your chin, and he tilts your face up to meet his eyes. “You have no idea how much I’m going to enjoy this… Guiding you through it, showing you everything…” His eyes flash with a mix of hunger and satisfaction. He traces his thumb over your lips, his touch charged. 

“Not everything; I’ve read romance novels,” you clarify, shifting your weight back onto your calves.

Rhysand’s lips twitch and he lets out the barest breath of a scoff, shaking his head as if in awe. His eyes flicker with a dark amusement as his hand trails from your jaw to the nape of your neck, fingers toying with your hair. “Romance novels,” he repeats, his tone light, but the glint in his eyes betrays something darker. His thumb brushes your cheek, and his lips curve into a slow, teasing smile. “Well, then… you’re practically an expert, aren’t you?”

You feel the weight of his gaze as you fumble for a response, a nervous laugh bubbling up. “Well, I mean–”

Rhysand cuts you off, his voice edged with raw desire. “I’m going to show you everything you need to know.” His grip on your hair tightens just slightly, his eyes locked onto yours with a possessive intensity. “Just focus on me and let me take control,” he murmurs, his voice low. “If you need anything, you speak up, alright?” The intensity in his gaze makes you feel like you’re melting.

You nod, feeling a mix of apprehension and excitement, and his gaze doesn’t waver. His fingers trail lightly over your collarbone and down to the swell of your chest, his touch a teasing whisper against your skin. With a deep breath, you lean forward, your hands cautiously pulling down his underwear, and Rhysand’s breath hitches slightly as you expose him. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his hand resting lightly on your head, guiding you as you lower yourself, taking him into your mouth.

The room is filled with the soft sounds of your movements and his encouraging murmurs. As you cautiously take him into your mouth, you focus on finding a rhythm, the unfamiliar texture and warmth making your pulse race. Your hands rest lightly on his thighs, feeling the tension in his muscles as you move. Each gentle stroke is executed with trepidation and eagerness, guided by Rhysand’s soft, approving sounds.

Rhysand’s hands gently cradle your head, his grip firm but tender. “Damn,” he groans, his tone laced with surprise. “You’re a natural.” His praise sends a shiver through you, mingling with the heat of your desire. Though he guides you slightly, his touch remains light and encouraging. His voice drops to a low murmur, filled with adoration. “That’s it, just like that,” he urges, his breath hitching as you experiment with different motions. His nails gently graze your scalp, and he lets out a soft, appreciative groan when you press a flat tongue to the underside of his cock. “You feel so good, baby. Just keep going, you’re making me lose my mind.”

Every word from him makes you more determined to continue, your movements growing more confident as his reactions heighten your arousal. “You can take me deeper, I know you can,” he murmurs, his voice low and urgent. “You’re doing so well, you got it,” and his hips start bucking into your mouth. Your own breathing becomes shallow as your throat constricts around him, the new sensation is overwhelming yet intoxicating.

With a low groan of approval, Rhysand suddenly shifts, his hands coming to rest of your shoulders. “Hold on a moment,” he says, helping you up from the floor, and guiding you back onto the couch with him, a dark hungry glint in his eyes. 

A hand reaches under you, deftly unclipping your bra with a single, smooth motion. He moves the other to the waistband of your underwear, and he slides both off of you tantalizingly slowly. He discards them with a casual flick, leaving you completely bare and vulnerable under his intense, appreciative gaze. 

“Go on, let’s get you a bit more comfortable,” he says, adjusting you with deliberate care so you’re sprawled out comfortably across the couch. His gaze smolders with hunger as he moves between your legs, his breath fanning over your inner thigh. 

The anticipation is almost unbearable as he begins to tease, his tongue a tantalizing caress that makes you gasp and shiver. The sounds of his enjoyment mingling with yours create a symphony of shared desire, each touch sending waves of sensation through your body. 

Just as his tongue delves deeper, the sensation blurs your senses, making the room seem to spin and float. The combination of his skilled tongue and the disorienting rush of winnowing overwhelms you with a euphoric intensity. When your vision clears, you find yourself in Rhysand’s bedroom, his tongue still lavishing attention on you. He takes his time to savor every part of you. His movements are masterful, each flick and stroke of his tongue tailored to make you writhe in pleasure. He alternates between gentle, teasing laps, and more focused, firm strokes, finding the rhythm that has you gripping the sheets. 

His hands are relentless, roaming your body, occasionally tracing the curves of your thighs or the sensitive skin of your hips. He clasps your hands tightly, anchoring you as his deep, guttural moans vibrate through you, heightening every sensation and leaving you squirming with need. 

Amidst the physical pleasure, Rhysand begins to invade your mind with a barrage of filthy, electrifying thoughts. His voice, though unspoken, reverberates in your mind like a seductive whisper. “It’s going to feel so good when I fuck you,” he promises. “Picture how good it’s going to feel when I’m buried deep inside you, how you’ll be trembling under me.” The mental imagery is a pleasant surprise — he shows you vivid scenes of him thrusting into you with relentless vigor, making you gasp and shiver. “It’ll feel so much better than your fingers, darling.”

“Can you see it? Feel it?” he sends into your mind, his thoughts a sultry whisper caressing your consciousness. “Feel me pushing into you, filling you completely. Every thrust, every stroke… I want you to feel every inch of me, how your body will mold perfectly around my cock.” The intensity of his words only drove your arousal to a fever pitch, leaving you moaning and writhing with an urgent need. 

His thoughts also weave images of you coming undone, of him making you see the stars with his touch. “I’m going to make you come so hard, you won’t know what to do with yourself. I’ll have you screaming my name, begging for more.” The raw, possessive desire only drives you closer to the edge, each thought and image adding to the pleasure building rapidly within you. “You’re my sweet little virgin now,” his voice growls in your mind. “But not for long. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be begging for my cock every chance you get. You’ll be a little whore for me won’t you? Needing to be filled again and again.”

When your climax finally crashes over you, it’s intense and all-consuming, leaving you gasping and trembling. Rhysand’s mental presence remains, a constant, darkly, satisfying presence as you ride out your orgasm. 

After you’ve come down from your high, Rhysand pulls back slightly, his gaze dark and hungry. He leans over you, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks softly. “See how easy that was? You’re going to be amazing, just like that. “

He shifts, positioning himself between your legs, his cock slick and hot against your folds. As he aligns himself, his voice is thick with desire “Feel how hard I am for you? Feel how much I want you? I’m going to fuck you so good, make you feel things you never imagined. You ready for me, sweetheart?” He looks up from where the tip of his cock lines up with your entrance, eyes locking onto yours with a burning intensity.

You meet his gaze, your voice trembling slightly but filled with determination. “I… I want you, Rhysand. I need you.” Your breath hitches as you look up at him, the vulnerability in your eyes matched by a fierce desire. “Please, don’t hold back.”

Rhysand’s smile turns predatory, his eyes alight with satisfaction. He maintains eye contact as he pushes inside, inch by inch, savoring every second of your tight, untried body struggling to accommodate him. “Does it hurt?” his voice drips with mockery and satisfaction when you squeeze your eyes shut. “Does it hurt having this pussy stretched out for the first time?” He watches your reactions intently, delighting in them as your expressions shift from nervous anticipation to surprised pleasure, your brows furrowing with the intensity of it all. 

He cradles the back of your head, tilting it down toward where your bodies are joined. “Look at that,” he breathes, his tone full of wonder. “Look at how you wrap around me. So… fucking tight — it’s like you’re sucking me in.”

The mewl you let out would be embarrassing if not for the overwhelming pleasure and mind-numbing stretch of his cock inside you. “Rhysand, please,” you whisper, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you try to steady yourself.

“Please, what? What do you want me to do, darling?” his voice is a lazy drawl, as though he has all the time in the world to tease you, to make you beg for more. His hips are still, the need to move evident in the tense muscles beneath your hands, but he holds back, watching you writhe beneath him.

“Please, Rhys, just move,” you whine, your body yearning for more, the slow stretch making you desperate. “Just want you… Want you to move.”

“Move?” He raises a brow at you, feigning confusion. “Move where? Move off of you?” He starts to pull out, slowly, torturously, and for a moment, the sensation feels good — until the realization hits that he’ll leave you empty. Without thinking, you wrap your legs around him, arms clinging to his neck to keep him in place.  

He chuckles darkly, a low, amused sound. “You’ll have to be more specific, I need to hear what you want, or…” He pulls out further, the head of his cock barely inside you now.

“Fuck me,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need. “Rhys, fuck me, please.”

The glint in his eyes is dangerous, primal. He leans down, brushing his lips against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

He thrusts back into you, slow but deep, filling you completely. “You feel that?” he murmurs against your neck. “You’ve never had anyone touch you like this before, have you? I’m the first… and I’ll be the only one to make you feel this way. Your fingers don’t even reach this deep, huh? You can’t even pleasure yourself the way that I will.” His words are gentle, but the power behind them is undeniable. “So pure, so untouched. You’re mine now. I’m going to make sure no one else gets to fuck you like this.”

The way he speaks, the deliberate pace of his thrusts as he starts to push in and out of you, has you melting beneath him, pleasure and helpless surrender pooling in your belly. Every inch of him fills you perfectly.

“You’ve no idea what you do to me,” he whispers, his thrusts growing harder, deeper. “Look at how you take me, so well. So fucking tight and sweet, like you were made for this,” he growls, his breath puffing against your skin as he thrusts again, deeper this time. “You feel that, darling? That’s me, stretching you open, shaping this pretty pussy so it’ll only ever fit me.”

A gasp tears from your lips, your body overtaken by the sensation of him inside you, deeper than anything you could have imagined. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your legs trembling as you try to keep up with the rhythm he’s setting. “Rhys,” you whimper, your voice soft and breathless. “It’s so… so much.”

He leans down to capture your lips in a heated kiss, a dance of tongues and lips, exchanging breath ang longing. When he pulls back, his voice is a low rumble. “It’s going to be more, sweetheart. So much more. You can take it though, I know you can.”

You shudder at his words, the physical and mental onslaught of pleasure overwhelming. “Rhys, I–” you gasp, struggling to speak as your mind spins. “I’ve never– fuck! I didn’t know it could feel this good.”

“Of course you didn’t,” he purrs, his pace quickening slightly, making you moan with every deep stroke. “You’ve never been fucked before. You didn’t know what you were missing, did you?”

Your breath catches, your hands fisting in the sheets as his words sink in. The sensation of being filled, stretched, and dominated by him is getting to be too much. “Rhys, please,” you whisper, “please, don’t stop.”

His lips curve into a wicked smile. “I’m not stopping. Not until I’ve ruined you for anyone else.” He thrusts into you harder now, making your body jolt with each sound of skin against skin. “No one else is ever going to fuck you like this. You’ll always want me. You’ll always need me.”

The pleasure building inside you is almost too much, the sensation of his cock slamming in and out of your tight heat. “It feels so good!” you cry out, your pretty noises spurring his desire. “I– I can’t… believe how good it–”

“You like that, don’t you?” he growls, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “You like the way I stretch you out. The way your body squeezes me like it’s never going to let go.” He moves faster, his thrusts becoming rougher, more demanding. “Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me how much you love it.”

Your head is spinning, your body trembling as the pleasure builds. “I love it,” you gasp, your voice high and breathless. “I love the way you feel inside me, Rhysand.”

His eyes harden, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. “That’s right. You love being fucked by me, don’t you? You love the way I make you feel, the way I take your virgin cunt.” His hand slides down your body, gripping your hip to keep his unrelenting pace. “And I’m going to keep fucking you until you’re screaming my name, until you can’t think of anything else but how good my cock feels inside you. So innocent… But not anymore, darling, you’re going to want this every single time you see me.”

Your muscles shake as you respond wantonly. “I want more, I want you to fuck me harder.” Rhysand groans, flipping you over without pulling you off his cock. His hands grip your hips as he pulls you closer, his cock slamming into you with renewed force.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he growls, his voice rough with lust. “You don’t even know what you’re asking for. But I’ll give it to you, if that’s what you want?” He glances at you for confirmation, though he already knows what he’ll see.You’ll look back at him with a blissful nod, your eyes heavy and barely open. You cry out as his pace turns punishing, far beyond what you’d imagined during those restless nights spent desperately rubbing your clit to thoughts of him. You can barely catch your breath as he fucks you for all you’re worth. 

“That’s it,” he groans, his voice thick with desire as he pulls you up, holding you flush against his chest. His hands wander over you, the swell of your breasts, the soft skin of your neck. “You’re going to come for me again, aren’t you? I can feel it. You’re so close. You’re going to come all over my cock, aren’t you?”

You can’t speak, your voice lost to pleasure. “Rhys, please,” you gasp, your hands gripping the sheets as you feel yourself hurtling toward the edge. “I’m so so close.”

He teases your ear lobe between his teeth as he whispers, “Come for me, go on. Show me how good it feels to have your virgin cunt fucked for the first time.”

“Feels so good, feels so–”

With a final thrust, you fall apart, your body convulsing as your orgasm rips through you. Rhysand’s name is a broken moan on your lips as the pleasure floods through you. Rhysand watches you as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, his pace never slowing. “That’s it,” he coaxes you through it. “That’s my girl. You’re mine now, sweetheart. Only mine.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Taglist <3

@starlightazriel @nvdax @halo-hanging @paleidiot @kismet27

@mellowmusings @gracielacie @d3ad-ins1de @loviseamms @inkedinshadows

@natasha153 @deathdoordoctor @spacebananabud @secretsicanthideanymore @edance2000

@lorosette @alykatv @honethatty12 @hellabizzy @serena-capella

@acoazlove @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @scorpioriesling @hannzoaks @confusedsezure

@elenapri0502 @randomgurl2326 @scarsandallaz @julesvanslutta @90angiex

[inkedinshadows]

Tea, Cookies, and Love

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

Summary: Azriel takes care of his mate while she's on her period.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.3k

@azrielappreciationweek

You hated being on your period.

Even after years, it was still hard to deal with the cramps and pain, so strong that most days you couldn’t even get out of bed. Instead, you curled up under the warm sheets, clutching a hot water bottle tightly over your aching tummy. It didn’t help much with the pain, but you liked the comfort it brought.

The door opened silently, and Azriel slipped inside. He had a steaming mug in one hand and a small plate with chocolate cookies in the other. “I made your tea, love,” he said quietly as you lifted your head from the pillow. “I know it doesn’t do much, but it’s better than nothing.”

You just frowned, watching as he set the plate and mug on the nightstand. The smell of ginger and peppermint reached your nose, but you didn’t touch the tea. You would likely burn your tongue if you took a sip now.

“I thought you were going to Rita’s,” you murmured.

“The others did,” Azriel confirmed. As he sat down next to you, a few tendrils of darkness wove through your hair, drawing a small smile from you even as you clenched the muscles in your stomach at the stabbing pain.

You closed your eyes, taking a few deep breaths to work through the next cramp before you could ask, “Why didn’t you go with them?”

Azriel lifted a brow, visibly trying to hold back a smile. “You're really asking that?”

Sitting a bit straighter in bed, you nodded weakly as you reached for the mug. Even if you couldn't drink it yet, you could still savor its warmth in your hands.

“I'm not leaving you alone and in pain while I’m out having fun,” he stated. His voice was soft, but it carried that underlying determination that told you he wasn’t going to change his mind.

Yet, as he stood up and began undressing, you still tried, blowing over the hot tea. “I wouldn’t be mad if you wanted to go with them, you know.”

“I know,” he replied, pulling on some sweatpants and a shirt. He turned to you with a smile. “But I don’t want to.” He climbed into bed next to you, slipping under the blanket and wrapping you in his arms. “No, I want to stay here and take care of my beautiful mate.”

A new warmth spread through your body, one that had nothing to do with the mug or the hot water bottle. You actually removed the latter from your stomach to place it on the nightstand instead, so that you could snuggle closer to Azriel.

“Don’t you need that?” he murmured, letting you move around to find a comfortable position. You settled for curling up against his strong chest, your head resting on his shoulder.

“Not really,” you answered in a whisper. You finally took a sip of the tea, and its pleasant taste filled your mouth, warming your throat as you swallowed. Hopefully, it would soothe your aches, but you knew how unlikely that was. “It’s not that hot anymore.”

“Do you want me to go heat it up again?”

You looked up at him, a soft smile on your lips. You shook your head slightly. “No, it’s fine. I just want you here.”

“Then I’ll stay here.” Azriel pressed a kiss to your temple, then draped his wings around you. “Whatever you need, my love.”

You wanted to answer, but you grimaced instead as another cramp twisted your gut. It felt like being ripped apart from the inside, and you almost spilled the tea while trying to find a position that would bring you some relief. Azriel’s broad hand covered your lower stomach, gently massaging the area to offer what little comfort he could.

“I hate seeing you like this,” he whispered.

“Yeah, I hate feeling like this too,” you mumbled once the pain settled, at least for the moment. You drank some more tea, and your eyes took in the chocolate cookies he had brought you. “Are those Elain’s cookies?”

Azriel nodded, his hand still drawing soothing circles on your stomach. “She made them this morning. I thought you might want some before they're all gone.”

“Gods, I love you,” you breathed. You turned your head just enough for your lips to brush against his, but you didn't kiss him yet. “You just make it so easy.”

Azriel's lips curled into an amused smile. “I love you too, beautiful. But what is it that I make easy?”

You set the mug down, cupping his face with your now-free hands. “Loving you, Az.” You finally kissed him, pouring all your feelings and gratitude into the kiss and down the bond. “You make it very easy to love you.”

You chuckled as a faint blush crept up his neck. “Thank you,” he murmured, “but I don't do anything special.”

“He doesn't do anything special, he says,” you scoffed playfully. You gave his cheek a kiss, then reached for the mug again and took another warm sip.

Snuggling closer to him, you tucked your head under his chin and closed your eyes. Azriel held you tighter, cradling you against his body. As he opened his mouth to reply, you knew he was going to say that it was true and he didn't do anything special, so you beat him to it.

“For starters, you're here with me instead of out with our friends,” you pointed out. You didn't even open your eyes, instead simply listing all the reasons why he made you fall in love with him every day, all over again. “You made me tea even if I hadn't asked for it. You rub my aching belly. And you brought me Elain's cookies.”

“I just want to take care of you,” he said. His tone was soft, and he sounded as if he was defending himself and his choices. He really didn't see what was special about it. “And I know how much you like her cookies.”

You sighed quietly. You picked up a cookie, but even though you loved them, you didn't feel like eating anything right now. You'd save them for later, when the cramps would hopefully relent. So you offered it to him without a word.

Azriel took it, brows furrowed. “You want me to feed you?”

Your quiet chuckle was interrupted by a twinge of pain deep in your core, and you quickly disguised it by saying, “I want you to have it.”

He shook his head and handed the cookie back to you. “They're for you.”

“The others are for me. That one is for you.” You didn't even touch it, opting to simply sip from your mug again. “It's how bonds are accepted.”

“We accepted the bond years ago,” he mused. He didn't take a bite, instead waiting to see where you were going with this.

“I know.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look him in the eye. He was beautiful, and he was yours. Your love and your home. Your mate. Just as you were his. You knew he considered himself lucky to be with you, but he never realized you were the lucky one.

“Every day, I am beyond grateful that the Mother blessed me with you as my mate,” you murmured. A sudden lump formed in your throat, and you weren't sure if the tears prickling your eyes were caused by the hormones or the depth of your feelings for him. “And I want you to eat that cookie. Because I want you to know that I would choose you in every life, no matter what.”

Azriel was silent for a long moment, but you could see the swirling emotions in his hazel eyes. The love and care, the vulnerability he showed only to you. He slowly lifted the cookie to his lips and took a small bite, his eyes never leaving yours, your ache momentarily forgotten.

“I would choose you in every life too,” he said softly. “I would find you, and I would love you. In every life, every world.”

When you kissed again, the bond between your souls glowed stronger and brighter.

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

[surielstea]

A Sudden Elopement

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Reader and Azriel suddenly get married without telling any of the others, the silently watch while every one figures it out for themselves.

Warnings: just fluff.

A. Note: just a short fic because I feel bad for being inactive as of late :c but the good news is, is that I’ll be very active for Eris week!! So keep an eye out for more Vanserra content 😻🙏

1.7k words

My eyes drooped with exhaustion as I attempted to keep my focus on the book I was reading. I was seated between my mate's legs in his lap, leaning back against his chest while he combed his scarred fingers through my hair. I sighed and closed my book, deciding I didn't have enough energy to read another chapter. I tossed it to the side of the bed and shifted lazily, flipping around to meet his hazel eyes gazing down at me.

"How was your book?" He hummed and I mumbled something he couldn't decipher while pulling myself up and stuffing my nose into the crook of his neck.

"That good, huh?" He teased, his arms moving to wrap around my waist.

I nod, tightening my grasp on him, needing him closer, lazily clinging to him like moss to a damp wall, infectious and dependent. But he didn't seem to care, only returned my embrace with the same tenderness "We should get married," He said softly and my eyes widened, now fully awake.

"What?"

"We should get married," He repeated with a casual tone.

"As in, right now?" I tilt my head, raising a brow at him.

"Well," He gave me an incredulous look. "Not right now, eventually, I want to marry you," He reiterated. A soft smile pulls at my lips.

"We've only been dating for a few months," I argue and even in the dim lighting I can see him blush.

"Yes, and we've been best friends for a decade," He argues and my smile widens, I straddle over his hips, sitting up and debating it.

"Don't get me wrong, I'd marry you now if I could, but do you really want to go through the hassle of planning one?" I speak logically but it's as if he only heard the first half of my sentence.

"Let's get married, right now," He grinned wildly and I flushed pink. "We don't have to do the hassle, you hate parties anyway. It can be just us, somewhere far or close I don't care. I just want to marry you," He expressed, intertwining our hands as I debated the irrational and sudden decision.

"Though I love how eager you are, I don't have a dress— much less, we don't have rings," I explain. "And as rich as you are, your funds are not bottomless," I say but he remains looking at me with the same loving look.

"Tell me exactly how you want to do it, and that's how it'll be done," He prompts and lets go of my hands, favoring placing them on my waist as I leaned down on my elbow, propped up against his chest.

"Well, it being just us doesn't sound too bad," I say, tracing shapes on his bicep with my free hand. "And I'd want to have a pretty gown, and I'd want to have our ceremony somewhere beautiful." I flick my eyes up to meet his unfaltering gaze. "And rings, I want everyone to know we belong to each other," I add quickly and his smile grows.

"Anything else?" He tilts his head but I shake mine, cupping his face and leaning down, kissing his lips softly. "I think, I just want to be your wife," I finalized and that seemed to have pleased him because the next thing I know he's flipping me over and kissing down my neck. And despite my exhaustion, I knew sleep wouldn't come until dawn.

—————

"So, how was your trip?" Feyre said excitedly, settling into the barstool beside me.

Azriel and I had gotten back after a month's vacation only a day ago, but everyone was eager to catch up. So we landed ourselves at Rita's, a local bar beloved by the citizens of Velaris. "As romantic as it sounds," I say with a soft blush, propping my head into my hands.

"Gods, I wish Rhys would take me on a surprise trip like that," She sighed dramatically and my smile grew. We hadn't told anyone why we actually went, that our trip was more of a honeymoon, less of a vacation.

"I know," I turned back in my stool to look at my husband who was surrounded by his two brothers. "It's all still such a daze," I smile dreamily, looking back to my friend who was frozen in her seat, staring directly at the cut sapphire on my fourth finger.

"Are you engaged?!" She practically shouted and I giggled, shaking my head.

"Az and I decided to get married while we were gone," I shrug as if it was a casual thing. I didn't want it to be a big deal, because it wasn't really, we were the last of the group to tie the knot.

She just stares at me, slowly, she shifts her head back to the three males at the other end of the room, right at that chain around Azriel's neck, a silver ring hanging from it. He couldn’t wear rings because of his scars, but he still wanted to have that physical element of our marriage, as if to display how taken he was.

She nearly fell out of her chair at the realization, then tackled me into a hug, holding me tight as I giggled at her antics. "My gods, congratulations, I would have been sending gifts all week!" Feyre claimed and I shook my head at her nonsense while she pulled away.

"It's not a big deal Fey, if they haven't figured it out yet— you're the only one who knows," I smile broadly, looking back at Azriel, who happened to already be staring at me.

I brought my hand up, gesturing to the ring on my finger, then to his brothers. Silently asking if they notched yet. Azriel shook his head with a mischievous smile and I turned back to Feyre with a smirk. "I can't believe you guys didn't tell us," She huffed as if she'd failed me as a friend.

"As much as I would've loved for you to be there, it was hilarious watching how clueless you all were," I claim and she gives me a sidelong glare.

"Oh cmon," I lean over in my stool and bump her shoulder with mine. "Now you can be in on it. Who do you think is going to be last to figure it out?" I ask, gesturing to the group behind us who were all mingling with Azriel.

Feyre turned to look, the three-winged Illyrians all chatting with Morrigan, Nesta, Lucien, and Elain all accompanying them. "Cassian," She bets and I smirk, narrowing my eyes on the group.

"I think Rhys," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. Feyre cracks a smile. "Whoever's right pays the tab," She says, slipping out of her barstool and I nod, agreeing to the challenge even though I knew damn well Rhys would be covering the tab regardless.

We saunter over to the group, wicked smiles on our faces. Feyre goes to Rhys, intertwining their hands while I come to stand between Cassian and Azriel, my husband putting his arm around my shoulders. "What's that look for?" Azriel asked me, noticing the mischievous glint in my eyes.

"Feyre and I have a bet going, and that's all you need to know," I shrug and he arches a dark brow but doesn't say anything more while silky shadows swirl up my calves as if they were trying to beckon more information out of me but I didn't budge, just leaned into his side and watched Feyre as she tried her hardest to get her mate to realize the wings on me and Azriel's fingers, eager to win our bet.

It took much longer than I thought it would for them to realize. Lucien and Elain had spotted it that night, pulling me to the side to ask about it. Morrigan and Nesta had done the same one night later, interrogating me and Azriel as if we'd committed a crime, they seemed to think not telling them was against some friendship code.

But Rhys and Cassian hadn't noticed that night, or the next, or the next. It wasn't until I was training with Cassian and punched him square in the jaw that he caught sight of the ring on my finger. He brought his fingers to his cheek, wincing as he saw blood when pulling his hand away.

I cringed. "Sorry, I forgot to take my ring off," I murmured shamefully, taking the sapphire off my fourth finger. He paused, staring at me curiously, with no malice in his eyes despite the fact that I just drew blood.

"Where did you get that?" He tilted his head. I froze. Would it be considered cheating me and Feyre’s bet if I told him Az gave it to me?

"I'll give you one guess," I sent him a wink and his brows shot up.

"No way," He whispered. "He proposed?" His arms went out wide and shock. I fought back a laugh. "Well, yes, but we got married already, when we took that month off to go to the Summer Court? That was our honeymoon," I shrug and his eyes nearly bulge from their sockets.

"He didn't tell me!?" Cassian exclaimed as if he was the one to be married.

"We didn't tell anyone, everyone else already figured it out." I chuckled and his eye twitched. "Rhys doesn't know, me and Fey had a bet going to see how long it'd take," I shrug. "Turns out longer than expected." I hummed and he scowled.

"Well, you think you know someone," He huffs pathetically and I laugh.

"It's not like that Cass," I roll my eyes while walking over to my water and placing my wedding ring down beside it. If he was actually upset I don't know what I'd do, and I found myself thanking the gods when he cracked a smile, unable to keep the facade up for too long.

"Me and Az are going to have a long talk about this," He warned and I chuckled, getting back into my fighting stance on the mats.

"All I ask is that you return my husband in one piece," I say, smiling at the sound of calling Azriel my husband.

"Fine, but only if I get to be the one to tell Rhys he lost the bet." He hummed, getting into his own stance.

I grinned wildly, Feyre was going to rage. "Deal."

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[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (7)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, PINING, Azriel's POV and he is incredibly sad

a/n: Yay here's more <3 I promise it gets happy and there's a little teaser of what that'll look like in this part. Let me know what you think pleaseee :)

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

Azriel 

Azriel’s heart came to a thudding halt.

“What was that?” he asked softly, trying to play it off. Trying to pretend as if you hadn’t just asked him the one question he had hoped would never come. Because you were supposed to get better before it came to this. 

He had begged the Mother for any kind of reprieve.

She hadn’t listened, as Azriel had expected. 

“Mates,” you slurred, your head bobbing on his shoulder. The High Lords had exhausted you. “Helion said you… he said something about a mate. I can’t remember exactly… but no one’s told me what that is.” 

Pure adoration tore at Azriel’s chest. Your words blurred together as you sunk deeper into his arms, and Gods, did he love you. He let himself imagine that you were drunk—just for a moment. You were drunk and still his and he was carrying you home after a night at Rita’s. 

“Azriel?” 

The moment ended and panic replaced the temporary comfort that had consumed him. 

“Yes, my love?” It had slipped, a mistake fueled by his clouded mind. Azriel counted his footsteps and held his breath, but you only hummed in response, too drained to notice the endearment that had fallen with such desperation from his lips. 

“You were telling m’about mates,” you reminded him. Your arm slipped from his neck and landed in your lap. Azriel held you closer, feeling your body begin to lose its grip. 

“Of course,” he dutifully replied. “A mate is… it is a gift from the cauldron. An equal to share a bond with.”

“Like a lover?”

Azriel could hardly piece your words together with the way they tumbled out. 

That, and his stomach was twisting, reminding him of the very bond that was crying out within him. This was wrong. It was all so terribly wrong. He didn’t have to have this conversation with you last time; it had hurt you too much to even hint at the topic. 

Back then, Azriel had been so deep in anguish he couldn't keep food down, so desperate to just speak to you that his body rejected all else. 

This was somehow worse.

“Much stronger,” he whispered, pressing his nose to your temple in an act of weakness. You didn’t notice. “Our souls are linked—mates I mean. A mating bond doesn’t always lead to the pair being lovers, but if they choose to do so, it’s enhanced. It’s unexplainable, truly, having someone connected to you that you love so deeply.” 

“That sounds nice,” you mused, a melodic flow of syllables starkly contrasting the effort with which Azriel was trying to string his sentences together. 

“It is.” He gave in to his urges and looked down at you in his arms, your hair flushed against his leathers, your face soft and drowsy. “It is wonderful.” 

You cracked an eye open. Azriel had stopped walking. “Do you have one?” 

“What?” he choked out. 

“You speak as if you know the feeling well. Do you have a mate, Azriel?” 

“I—” There were no thoughts in his head, nothing but the sound of your voice and your question repeating itself like a bell tolling in a vicious pattern. “Yes,” he sputtered out. “I do, yes.” 

You smiled softly, but it was paired with a furrowed brow and a light sigh. “Good,” you nodded to yourself. “You deserve a mate.” 

Too much talking, too much thinking; your head lulled into his arm, face against his chest, and you were asleep. 

Yes, this was much worse than the last time. 

Azriel adjusted his grip and carried you back to the room you didn’t know belonged to the both of you. 

~~

The pounding in your head was your first indication that you were awake. You moved your hand to your hairline before opening your eyes, applying pressure in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure there. 

Useless. 

A small groan made its way up your throat. The night before, or whenever it was—you had no idea how long you’d been sleeping—was a jumbled mess in your mind. You remembered meeting Helion, being told you were in love with him, being told that you actually weren’t in love with him, and then he and Rhysand had entered your mind and left you as nothing more than a vegetable. 

There were other pieces too, like Azriel carrying you back to your room and talking about… mates? Yes, that sounded right—the larger-than-life, effervescent partners bestowed upon fae by the cauldron. 

And he had told you that he had one. 

That was good. Great, even. Something stirred within you, an uncomfortable feeling, but you ignored it in favor of the pain radiating across your head. Gods, why did it hurt so much? 

Helion and Rhysand had been in your mind. They were going to discuss things with you. 

You shot up far too quickly, the motion sending shooting pains up your neck. 

“What?” you heard a voice panic. “What is it? Are you hurt?” 

Another jarring look to the side and you just about passed out from the pain. You caught a glimpse of Azriel before you squeezed your eyes shut to try and manage it, his large form folded into a chair by the door that was certainly not made to accommodate wings. You lowered your head into your hands and heard the chair screech against the floor. 

“What is it, y/n?” Azriel asked, voice closer now. 

You let out a shaky sigh. “Sorry, just—it’s my head, give me a moment.” 

He didn’t speak, but the room became dark. That seemed like an impossible feat, with the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the walls and letting in the rays of the day court sun. But the pounding in your head receded a fraction, and you could tell it was dimmer even from behind your eyelids. 

“Does that help?” he asked, so low you could barely hear him. 

You felt his breath at your arm. 

“Yes,” you whispered back, and when you opened your eyes, Azriel was there. His wings had circled you, encasing you in a darkness that blocked out the world, his knees at the side of your bed. 

“You got up too quickly,” Azriel offered.

“I know, but I wanted to hear what the High Lords had to say about the witch and my memories and what I need to do to fix everything. Have you heard anything?”

“Very little. I’ve been here.” 

“For how long?” 

“You slept for a day and a half.” 

“And you stayed the entire time?” 

“You requested I stay by your side. You’ve been here.” 

You bit into your lip, the heavy weight of guilt loading onto your chest. Azriel flinched as if he felt it himself. “I wanted to stay,” he comforted. “It puts me at ease to… see you while we’re in this court. To know exactly where you are and who’s around you.” 

“Because of last time,” you stated, but it was a question that hung in the air. 

Azriel’s eyes tracked along the planes of your face. His hand twitched. “Yes, because of last time.” 

He looked so serious, bordering on forlorn. Despite the pain in your head and the conflicting emotions rising within you, you attempted to lessen some of the load that seemed to bogg the shadowsinger down. 

“You could have taken shifts with Cassian, you know. Or even, I don’t know, laid on the bed that’s the size of a small apartment. I was out cold the entire time—didn’t wake up once. I wouldn’t have noticed if you did,” you offered with a hint of a smirk playing at your lips. 

Azriel’s gaze dropped to your mouth, his own expression lightening. “Cassian would fall asleep immediately. And, just to let you know, you did wake up. Several times.” 

You gave him a doubtful look. “I think I would remember that.” 

The shadowsinger bit back a smile and something within you shone at the playful look in his eye. “Right, so you don’t remember waking up and practically ripping that from my body?” 

His eyes shot down to your chest, an action which you followed to find a large, unfamiliar sweater swathing your body in warmth. You looked further down at your hands, only to find the sleeves of the garment covering your palms and fingers as well. 

An incredulous laugh bubbled in your chest. “I wouldn’t—I didn’t actually rip this off of you, did I?” 

Azriel shifted his knees into a kneeling position beside you, his wings shuffling and creating a sound you had begun to find comfort in. “Well, you didn’t exactly ask politely.” 

You groaned and shoved your face back into your hands. “Gods, that’s embarrassing. It’s because I was delirious, I swear. Those damn High Lords scrambled my brain.” 

“Y/n, you have a penchant for demanding things in your sleep. Food, water, clothing, more blankets. Once you woke up to ask me for an entire roast duck and in the morning you had no recollection. You were quite aggravated that night.” 

“No, stop, I can’t take this. I am melting into a puddle of mortification and you are making it worse.” 

Azriel chuckled. “It’s alright. I’ve grown used to it over the years. It’s almost charming, really.” 

You peeked through your sweater-clad fingers. “You can’t mean that.” 

“I mean it very sincerely. When you are sick or unwell, you sleep through the entire night. When you wake up and grab the neck of my sweater like you’re robbing me, I know things are okay.” 

You groaned again, this time tilting your head back and immediately regretting the action when a pulse of pain permeated along your temples. But it wasn’t so bad anymore; Azriel and his wings made it better. 

You took a moment to gaze upon his face in the proximity. He was smiling slightly, some humor still shining in his hazel eyes. The occasional shadow made a pass along his cheeks and by his ear, whispering secrets you weren’t privy to and then coming to wind around your body as well. His hair was mused and untamed, landing in soft patterns across his forehead. 

Azriel was so beautiful it hurt. 

“Does your mate ever get upset that we are so close?” you asked, the question not even fully formed in your head before it entered the space.

The smile slipped from Azriel’s lips and you regretted your impulsivity almost instantly. 

“No,” he answered, a slight shake of his head. “I wouldn’t worry about that.” 

“Has something happened? Between the two of you?” 

“Y/n, please don’t worry yourself over—” 

“It’s just—Azriel, I know how hard all of this has been on you. When you spoke of your mate it was the first time I saw you look at peace. That’s why I’m asking.” 

“You remember what I said?” 

“All of it,” you smiled, but Azriel only looked grave. “Az—"

The shadowsinger jutted back as the familiarity left your lips. He sent his shadows out, their configuring forms covering the windows and the cracks in the doors until it was dark enough for him to remove his wings from around you. With him went the comfort of night-kissed air and warmth and all of the things that made sense in this life you had been dropped into. 

“Rhys has requested that we meet in the study to discuss findings,” Azriel relayed, clearing his throat and standing from his place on the bed. “I laid out some of your things and a servant ran a bath when you started to stir. Do you need help—” 

“I’ve got it,” you interrupted, eyes downcast, feeling as though you’d ruined something that was already painfully delicate. 

“I’ll be here if you need me. Just outside the door.” 

You believed him—you did—but something was missing. Something you couldn’t keep up with. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he was in love with someone. Mor, maybe? Or one of the sisters Cassian talked about on occasion? 

The thought of him with his mate made you nauseous. 

You shouldn’t have asked. 

~~

“A replication?” you asked, running a hand along the side of your head in an attempt to look casual about the throbbing taking place there. “So… it is like last time?” 

“Partially, but because the witch’s powers aren’t pure, she was unable to mimic what a full daemati can do. So, same outcome, fewer side effects,” Rhys offered, a calming presence across the table. “Witches often find sources to draw from because they don’t have access to their natural abilities any longer. Your source was—” 

“An opening in her mind,” Azriel concluded, expression guarded as he sat stiffly beside you. “There were remaining injuries in her mind. The witch found her weak points and used them against her.” 

Helion nodded, rounding one of the more ornate chairs and basking in the light streaming through the window. “Very astute. We thought there were no remnants of—” 

“Don’t say his name,” Azriel warned. 

“—of the attack,” Helion quickly corrected, obviously not in the mind to start an argument with the keyed-up spymaster. “But they must have been miniscule. We think she must have been an old witch, very practiced.” 

“So what do we do now?” Cassian gruffly asked, arms crossed as he leaned against the windowsill. You turned to look at him, but the sunlight casting his shadow sent your head ablaze. You quickly righted your gaze and squeezed your eyes shut to compensate. 

You felt shadows stalk beneath your feet and across the floor until they consumed the light of the window. If anyone had any comments on the shadowsinger’s act, they didn’t voice them. 

“Now,” Helion breathed out, dropping into a chair and interlacing his fingers atop the oak table. “We wait. Just like the last time, this kind of power is not something we can simply undo. We need a witch, and witches are incredibly elusive.” 

Trepidation gripped your heart, sending your lungs into a fiery descent. You were just supposed to wait? Wait and hope that maybe, possibly, they would find a witch and fix this before your life moved on without you in it?

Your breath came out in quick, uneven puffs, exacerbating the ache in your head. 

Azriel sat up in his seat, high alert and on the defensive. 

But Rhysand was quicker than his spymaster’s anger. “There is the possibility that this wears off on its own.” 

Your eyes snapped up. “Was that a possibility last time?” 

“No,” Cassian remarked, brows shot up to his hairline. “That’s why you were missing for so long and in so much pain after. You both made it clear that there was no moving whatever the daemati put in her head.” 

Helion and Rhysand shared a look, but your High Lord was the one to speak. “It was weaker this time, more permeable. We think, with time, the wall the witch attempted to replicate will break down and you’ll have everything back. She did only do this to you to flee from attack. It wasn't personal.” 

“How much time?” Azriel strained. 

Helion replied this time. “There is no way to know, shadowsinger.” 

“What about the pain? You said fewer side effects but I couldn’t even have light in my room this morning.” 

Rhysand looked sheepish, eyes darting over to the window still opaque with shadows. “Yes, well—we may have pushed you a bit too far during our assessment.” 

Cassian let out a disbelieving huff from the corner of the room. Azriel gripped the arms of his chair until they groaned. 

“So it’ll go away?” you asked, desperation trickling into your tone. 

The wood beneath Azriel’s hands splintered. 

“Yes, very soon. We can give you some tonics before you leave as well. They will help speed up the process,” Helion promised, eyeing his chair being slowly destroyed. 

In a motion that felt almost second nature, you covered the spymaster’s hand with your own, shadows wrapping around the press of your skin. It was then that you noticed the ring. Silver and unassuming, it took up residence on the ring finger of his left hand and looked like it belonged no place else. 

Our souls are linked, he had said, talking about his mate with such passion. 

You removed your hand from his. 

Azriel flexed his fingers upon your departure. 

“We were thinking,” Rhysand began after a pregnant pause that seemed to blanket the room. “With your pain, we might want to stay a few more days. Winnowing can add extra pressure to the body and flying would—” 

“No,” you were quick to dispute. “No, I want to go home. It’s lovely here, Helion, and I thank you for all you’ve done and are doing, but I want to go back to the Night Court. I want to try and live the life I’ve made for myself, even if I have no idea what I’m doing.” Another pause. “If that’s okay.” 

“Of course that’s okay,” Azriel spoke from beside you. His words sounded dull, his fingers remaining outstretched on the chair. 

“We will continue looking for the witch on our side,” Helion nodded, pushing out of his chair. He came before you then, meeting your gaze. “I cannot apologize enough for what your time in my court has cost you. I only hope that all will return to you. I have missed you, y/n.” 

And then the High Lord of Day was gone, and you had no recollection as to why he would miss you in the first place. Everyone was saying they missed you, even as you stood before them unharmed and intact. 

A harsh reality slammed into you with the departure of the High Lord. 

If you didn’t get your memories back—if there were no witches or deteriorating walls in your mind—they would continue to miss you. You would forever be a husk of your former self, never understanding the full picture of who you were. 

But that wasn’t okay with you—not at all. 

[sidthedollface2]

Something Old and Something New

Pairing: Azriel x Reader (Rhys sister)

Summary: Rhys tells Azriel to back off Elain and find release at a pleasure hall. Instead, Azriel finds you, Rhys' younger sister. 

Or

The Princess of the Night Court becomes Azriels rebound. What could possibly go wrong?

Word count: 4.8k

Warnings: MDNI 18+, ANGST, hurt/no comfort, cheating? (not really tho you'll see), smut (p in v, oral, fingering) no use of yn, nicknames, drug use, alcohol.

A/n: I’m back from vacation and decided to do this one shot in between crown fit for a god. I really don't like using yn (its me not you) so every one of my fics will have a nickname but its still x reader. I’m sorry in advance if this hurts you. Anyway, enjoy. :)

“You will leave Elain alone. If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her.” 

Azriel hadn't slept in weeks. The weight of his shame suddenly became too heavy for his illyrian shoulders. You weren't supposed to be this magnetic and he wasn't supposed to stick around this long. He told himself it was just going to be a quick fling, someone he could spend the night with and try to forget about her.

 But you had always been in his company. Ever since you became of age he thought you were stunning and entirely too good for him. You were afterall Rhysands younger sister. The female version with equal power and even more beautiful. Graceful when needed, mostly among people of importance, and always polite and kind like a princess should be. You were a Princess for the people, earning the citizens trust and walking among them like each and every person was your friend. It was no secret why they preferred your company to their High Lord.

Your amethyst eyes were now engrained behind his very own eyelids, everytime he closed his eyes for the night, they shot wide open. The image of you under him all those nights and the soft moans as he took you to bed in the shroud of darkness. He really didn’t know how it happened, mostly, he blamed it on the alcohol. One night after Ritas was all it took for him to be obsessed, seeking you out when his loneliness threatened to consume him.

Azriel’s panting mixes with your own moans as he pumps himself inside you. The delicious drag of his thick cock leaves you breathless under him. His touch is gentle as he cups your cheek, his hazel eyes never leaving yours as he imagines forever in your arms. “You're so beautiful. Can’t believe I get to have you.” He coo’s as he trails soft kisses down your neck, nipping and biting your flesh, careful to not leave any marks. Your hands card through his dark waves, back arching off the bed when his lips attach to your pebbled nipple.

Kissing and biting at the fullness of your breasts, soothing away the love bruising he left on them previously. His scarred hands feel like silk when they roam the soft curves of your body, lighting a fire within you with each and every touch. Knees dig into the bed as he grips your hips, still completely sheathed inside you. He moves your body against his, matching the velocity of his thrusts. Deeper and deeper. One arm wraps around your waist while the other rubs tiny circles on your clit. His eyes never leave your beautiful face as his favorite part comes to life right before him. Your head is thrown back, mouth agape as pleasure builds in the pit of your stomach. “Oh fuck Az, don’t stop.” Azriel’s eyes sparkle with wonder as you fall apart beneath him. Toes curling as the force of your orgasm takes over all your senses. Azriel follows soon after. His pace stutters as your name falls from his lips with a groan. Spilling his seed into you with slow thrusts, ensuring each drop doesn't go to waste.

 “You were so good for me baby,” he smiles as he peppers your face with kisses. Azriel pulls out with a hiss and you giggle into the covers when his toned ass walks to the bathroom. You pout adorably when he returns wearing a pair of low hanging pants, and a warm cloth in his hands. “None of that love. I’m all yours and very willing to give you seconds and thirds,” he waggles his eyebrows and nestles between your legs. No shame or embarrassment from neither of you as he gently cleans you up. In between his gentle wipes he places a loud kiss to your core, “so fucken pretty.”

“Pink or Red?” He asks, looking through your assortment of panties, imagining how you'd look wearing the lacey ones. “Black.” Is all you reply and Azriels grin widens when you pick the lacey ones. 

He insists on helping you get dressed, pinching your butt and digging his fingers in your sides, making you giggle. You swat his greedy hands away. knowing it's just an excuse to keep touching you. “I’m not going to let you help me next time, all you do is tickle me,” you joke, knowing very well you couldn’t keep him away if you tried. “Fine. I won’t tickle you next time,” he says, crossing his arms with a sly grin on his handsome face. 

“You said that last time, and the time before that too.”

“Then you should know what to expect. Now come to bed, and snack with me.” Azriel moves to lay on the bed and opens the covers. Patting the space next to him with the palm of his hand, beckoning you next to him. You don’t have to be told twice, because this was without a doubt your favorite part. Like clockwork Azriel requested all your favorite snacks and without hesitation the house delivered.

Like a true Royal he fed you ripe grapes from the vine, watching intently as you parted your mouth for the sweet berry. Azriel licked his lips when your mouth wrapped around the fruit, making you chuckle as you pulled it off the stem. “When you said snacks this is not what I had in mind. I was thinking more like dessert.” 

“You just had dessert baby,” he teased with a shit eating grin as he gestured to his cock. You couldn’t help the snort that escaped from the back of your throat, causing you both to burst into fits of laughter, giggling like children. Who knew the shadowsinger belly laughed so openly. Something he only did with you. Once your laughs died down Azriel indulged you with a sweet treat. Again offering to spoon feed you, taking every chance to lick frosting off your glossy lips or fingers. 

By the end of the night you couldn't believe how sore your cheeks were from laughing so hard. Azriel had this charm about him, and you couldn’t get enough. You draped your arm over his toned stomach. Head nestled against his chest, listening to the rhythm of his strong heart, a melody you loved to fall asleep to. He held you close to his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, inhaling the scent of your hair, “Goodnight baby,” he whispered. 

“Night Az, I love you.” 

Silence. 

Azriel didn’t sleep that night. Neither did you. You didn’t expect him to say the words back, because he’d shown you he loved you in his actions alone. But his coldness afterward was unexpected. He laid still under you. No longer stroking your hair, or rubbing small circles on your back. It was like all the air had left his body yet the rhythm of his heart increased, hammering against his chest with the ferocity of a freight train.  If he felt your saddened tears fall on his chest he didn’t mention it, too caught up in his thoughts to console you. 

But now all his thoughts were of you and how quick your love had turned bitter when he didn't respond after you had said those three words to him. 

He was an idiot. Because he did love you. At the very sight of you his heart beat wildly in his chest. He wanted to spend every waking moment holding your hand and kissing your perfect lips. Fall asleep with you in his arms only to be awoken by your feminine beauty.  But Rhysand was unaware that you two were in a relationship. Were you in a relationship? He never asked. Wanted to. But he didn’t. He couldn’t imagine a day where Rhys would accept him as your lover. Rhys had been furious that he wanted to sleep with Elain, threatening him to no end. He couldn't imagine the anger if he were to find out that he turned his efforts to you instead. There were only a few things Azriel was scared of. Rhysands fury if he were to ever find out he’s been sleeping with his sister. And losing you. Those sort of went hand and hand didn’t they. 

You woke up alone the following morning. Thinking that your confession was too much for the shadowsinger. And perhaps you were just one of his many conquests added to the long list of females that warmed his bed. For as long as you knew Azriel he only had casual flings, nothing of substance. No one he introduced to his family. It made you feel stupid. He made you feel stupid. Hoping that you were the one he could call home. Someone he could envision spending the rest of his life with. You could forgive him for not saying ‘I love you’ back. That didn’t stop you from loving him and that didn’t mean he didn’t care about you. Because surely he did right? 

Right?

It wasn’t just that though, you had overheard Azriel tell Cassian sleeping with you was a mistake and that choosing you to be his rebound hadn’t worked out for him. “She said she loved me. It’s just all wrong. This wasn’t how I wanted things to go between us-” You didn’t bother hearing the rest of the conversation. Azriel’s words left your heart gaping, a wound so large you were afraid no one could mend it.

You had missed the importance of his following words, how Azriel wished he had done things right with you. Courted you the right way, with flowers and lovely dates to the finest eateries. Taking things slow at first, holding hands and sweet kisses under the moonlight. You didn’t hear Azriel explain that you had become more than he ever expected, more than just a rebound. He wanted a life with you. Now and forever, just you two and the family he always wanted.

You’d both move into a beautiful house just along the Sidra where you’d spend hours decorating every room to your liking. He’d soon marry you in front of all his family and friends, wearing the finest gown that glittered brighter than the night sky. During the mating frenzy, because of course you were his mate, he’d be sure to fuck a baby into you. And if his seed didn’t stick he wouldn't stop until your scent shifted to one of a pregnant female. He just hoped that Rhysand would give his blessing. 

Now everytime Azriel tried to seek you out, you were nowhere to be found. Like you had just vanished from the Night Court, even though the other members had interactions with you. You suddenly had no time for Azriel. The citizens of Velaris saw you less and less and when they did, your time spent was cut in half. Your joyous laughter no longer echoed the halls of the House of Wind, instead Cassian and Nesta’s not so secret sex romps were becoming more frequent. You had changed your entire schedule to avoid crossing paths with the shadowsinger. 

You no longer spent your mornings having breakfast with Rhysand and Feyre, instead you woke up earlier than usual and held your morning breakfast in the library. 

 “Why are you having breakfast here and not with Rhys?” Azriels hazel eyes took you in as he neared, noticing your tense shoulders. Closing the book in your hand, now finished with your chapter, you stand and gather your items into your bag, “was just catching up on some reading.” You don’t meet his gaze, the sight of him too painful for your heart to bear. “You haven’t been training with Cassian either,” he continues. “Or shopping with Mor. You haven't exchanged books with Nesta and,” Azriel towers over you, his breath fanning over your cheek at his closeness, “you haven’t warmed my bed.” Your eyes finally meet his, a look of desire in his warm eyes as his hands come up to cup your face. A glance over his shoulder has you pulling away from his touch as Elain enters the library, her soft voice dancing along the walls, “Hi Az.”

He ignores her completely, doesn’t even spare her a glance. But your eyes travel from her to him and back again. You see the fondness she has for him in the flush of her cheeks and the way her voice sings as she calls his name.

Memories of their subtle interactions come crashing into your mind. Her shy gaze whenever he walked in the room. The slight brush of fingers when they crossed paths, his lingering gaze when she exited a room.

He’s not yours, and you're not his. Never was, never will be. It dawns on you then that all the soft touches and lingering glances were never sincere but simply a ploy to get Elain jealous. Everytime you made love to him you gave a part of yourself, hoping he would accept you with open arms and an open heart.

You had hoped you were the only one in his life that made him throw his head back, eyes closed shut in ecstasy. But it's clear now when he closed his eyes he saw Elain riding him instead, not you. She was who he really wanted and you were just a placeholder. The rebound. 

He knows you well enough to tell when you're about to fall apart and now is one of those instances. It clicks for him now why he hasn’t seen you. Azriel catches your arm before you dart away, his touch gentle yet firm “you're avoiding me.” He says, worry etched all over his face as he attempts to pull you into his chest. “I’ve figured it out so you can stop pretending to care about me now.” A tear escapes your waterline and Azriel reaches to thumb away the hurt that he's caused.

You don't give him the chance as you swat his hand away and turn to make your exit. He’s panicking now watching you practically run away from him, as you hurry to get away from his presence.

A wound so intense suddenly opens within his heart. With no other option but to just blurt out the first thing that comes to his mind to keep you close. “I adore you!” he says breathlessly and waits for you to run into his arms so he could kiss you silly. When you turn around to confront him, Elain comes up from behind him and wraps her arms around his middle in a tight squeeze. A picture perfect couple you think to yourself, her innocent personality and bubbly nature a lovely contrast to his tall, dark and handsome. Azriel can’t pry her arms off him in time to chase after you before you rush out of the library, traces of your scent still lingering in the air. 

You run and run you're not sure for how long, just long enough till your tears are dried tracks along your soft cheeks. You find yourself in the arms of your brother, clutching his shirt in your closed fist as you loosen the cries that held your throat hostage. “Hey hey, what's wrong?” he coo’s pulling away just enough to see the heartbreak etched in your pretty face. “Send me away please Rhys, I am begging. I never ask anything of you, it doesn’t have to be forever, just a few months.” Your shoulders are shaking violently as you continue to wail into his chest, the intensity of your cries cracking the high lord into submission. “Are you sure, love? I can fix-” 

“No! There's nothing you can do.” 

Rhys nods, winnowing you to a secret cabin that sits along the border of The Night Court. “Just tell me this. Are you in any danger?” he asks, “because I know Azriel and Cassian or even myself will-” 

You wince at the mention of Azriels name, “I’m not in any danger, brother.” You assure him as you settle on the couch in front of the hearth, pulling a warm throw over your body and curling in on yourself. “Good, that’s good. I’ll talk to Kallias. He has someone he wants you to meet. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind hosting you for as long as you need.” Rhysand takes one last look at you, studying how unhappy you look, hoping you can confide in him your troubles, whatever they may be. You lay bundled under the comfort of the blanket, your glossy eyes staring into the flames of the fireplace. It’s heat providing a comfort you wish was someone else's. 

Azriel enters your room frantically searching for you, but he gasps and stumbles back when he sees Cerridwen packing your belongings. “Where is she?” he asks, his voice tense and panicked as he grips her by the shoulders. “I’m afraid I don’t have that information.” 

“Why are you packing her stuff then?” He starts shaking her shoulders, as if it would quicken her answer. “She’ll be visiting the Winter Court and Rhysand requests her favorite items to be sent to her.” 

You were running away from him, when all he wanted was to run toward you. Azriels world shattered completely. If you weren't here to live beside him then he had no interest in living. He had been too complacent in being in the now and not once had he initiated to be something serious. Now he was left with longing. 

That same night Rhysand made accommodations for you to stay in the Winter Courts Palace. Kallias and Vivienne were more than happy to have you stay with them. They were quite eager to introduce you to their son Kit. Hoping that with time you’d become great friends. Kit was the spitting image of his father. His white hair styled to perfection, with not a single strand misplaced. Chiseled cheekbones and a sharp jaw, pouty lips with Icy blue eyes to match his cool demeanor. His eyes trailed your beautiful curves as he bowed, taking your hand within his, placing a tender kiss to your delicate knuckles. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you Princess.” 

Your violet eyes met his and for a moment his pretty face made you forget about your heartbreak. Kit extended his elbow to you and without a second doubt you linked your arm with his as he led you to see the beauty of his Court. 

You spent the next two weeks in the company of the future Heir. Kit remained a respectful host. Introducing you to his closest friends, a welcomed change of personalities compared to your friends from home. Each evening he’d join you for dinner. Offering a different restaurant each night in hopes to expand your palate in order to get a feel for your favorite foods.

During your brief stay you opened up to him and told him of the situationship you had with Azriel. You explained to him what you overheard Azriel say and how stupid he made you feel after you confessed your love for him. “I finally saw the way he looked at her and it broke me more than it should have, because I remember when he looked at me the same way.  I heard him tell Cass that I was just the girl he picked to get over her. I never meant anything to him. Yet this whole time it had been real for me and I foolishly fell in love with him.” 

“Oh sweetheart, you deserve to be someone's first and only choice. You’re a Princess of The Night Court, if anyones the stupid one It’s him for not seeing how incredible you are.” With the end of his sweater sleeve, Kit wipes away a stray tear that escaped your waterline. His gentleness is a stark contrast to the ice flowing within his veins. “Besides I hear there's a handsome Prince looking for a warm heart to thaw the coldness in his soul,” he smirks playfully, rocking on the heels on his feet, a look of innocence in his crystal eyes. Your sweet giggle transcends into his favorite song and he makes it a mission to hear it often. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Azriel was tearing himself apart from the inside out. By the third day of being plastered and starting fights with innocent bystanders; Rhys had pulled him off missions until he sobered up enough to function.  All that did was give him a larger drinking window. He visited every winery and brewery in Verlaris, sometimes even forgetting how he got there in the first place.  Drowning in bottles of liquor till he could barely stand, let alone fly or walk or do anything for that matter. Tonight was different from the past two weeks, as he decided to smoke his problems away, alcohol no longer providing the high that made him forget.

 The strain for tonight was Mirthroot laced with Amnesia Haze, a hallucinogenic that could either make your deepest wish a reality or make you completely forget your life's problems.

Azriel couldn’t remember how he got up the steps to the house of wind. He couldn’t remember lots of things as of late. One thing he’d never forget though, was your scent and the way you made him feel. So when he opened the door to the house and your sensual perfume hit his nose he almost fell to his knees with relief.

You were finally home. He could explain himself and tell you that he loved you and that you meant the world to him. Azriel followed your scent like it was second nature. His shadows excitedly rushed up stairs towards your bed chambers, leaving him slightly confused because you were sitting at the kitchen Table.

Your hair was long in flowy waves down your back, a little longer since the last time he saw you. It hadn't been that long had it? It didn’t matter, all he wanted was to hold you in his arms again. Keep you safe in Velaris where you belong. Azriel slowly approached you, his breath shaky as he placed his hand on your shoulder. “Vi?”

Violet, the nickname you were given for your stunning eyes with various shades of purple and blue. Your eyes met his and you smiled, “Hi Az.” 

“Gods I missed you,” he admitted as he pulled you up from the chair, enveloping you in a warm embrace. You were slightly startled at how tight he hugged you. Inhaling your scent deeply as his nose nuzzled against your neck. “I’m so sorry, for everything. Please forgive me?” Azriel cupped your face between his scarred hands, angling you to look up at him. His pupils were large and dilated, a gaze mixed with sorrow and lust.  Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Az? What are you talking about?” 

“Come here, I need to tell you something.” Azriel lifted you onto the kitchen counter, earning a small yelp from your lips. He settled between your knees, making your thin night dress pool around your hips. His hands remained on your exposed thighs, rubbing them softly to keep you warm. His eyes never strayed from yours, like he couldn't believe you were actually here. “I made a mistake and should have never let you feel like you were the wrong choice. I don’t care what Rhys says anymore. I want you.”

His hands inch closer to your center, a silent request to touch you as the other brings your lips to his in a steamy kiss. You nod into the kiss, giving him permission to touch you. Azriel pulls your panties to the side, easily coating his fingers in your arousal, groaning when he feels how wet you already are from his kiss alone. 

Your breath catches when he slips his fingers inside and curls them in a come hither motion. “Oh gods Az, I’ve dreamed of this moment,” you pant into his mouth, needing more of him, anything he's willing to give you’ll take. He then rubs tiny circles on your clit, making you throw your head back so hard it slams against the cupboard in a loud thud. White flashes behind your eyes as your orgasm crashes over you, a giddy smile plastered on your face from the pleasure he's given you. 

You hop off the counter, eager to return the favor. Palming his cock, you notice he's barely hard, a groan escapes his mouth as you fumble with his belt. You pull Azriels pants down along with his underwear, pooling at his ankles, his cock still not fully erect. Your small hand grips him at the base, making him hiss. He sways side to side, eyes closed as he concentrates on getting hard, something he's never had to do before. You pump his shaft. Once. Twice. And then you wrap your lips around his cock and suck, the warmth of your mouth excites him and he stands at attention, finally. “So the rumors are true,” you coo.

“Fuck baby, your mouth feels so good. I Fucken love you.”   

Wait. What rumors?

“Azriel?” 

Azriels eyes fly open. You're standing in the doorway, shaking like a leaf in the wind with a  hand over your mouth. Sobbing loudly into your hand, tears blurring your vision as they escape your waterline. Heavy drops fall to the ground and the only sound heard is the unmistakable ‘pop’ as the female on her knees releases Azriels cock from her mouth.  

Azriel blinks rapidly, shaking his head, trying to rid himself of the haze he's in. He looks down to the female, stuffing his cock back in his pants as she's scrambling to get up. 

“Elain?” he chokes out her name, tears welling in his eyes as he stares at her, devastation in his wide eyes  as he realizes what he's done. What he did to her thinking she was you. His eyes turn to meet yours again, but he only catches your dress billowing as you turn around and run. Your loud wailing echoing in his ears like a hammer to a church bell.

“Vi wait! Please. It’s not what you think!” He yells, rushing past Elain as he sprints after you, needing to reach you before you winnow away.  His heavy footsteps pound against the tile floors, waking up the rest of the inner circle. Just as you're about to reach the knob Azriels arms wrap around your middle, pulling your back to his chest. You both crash to the ground from the force of Azriels tackle. His back meets the hard floor in a loud slam, cushioning your fall. “Let me go!” You plead, kicking and  clawing at his arms that are tightly wrapped around you. “Sshh, baby please. Listen to me.” his voice cracks as he tries to calm you down, “I love you, I love you so much. I thought she was you!! Please believe me!” 

Your voice slices through him, like a dagger to his already bleeding heart. “I hate you!” You scream out in anger, venom lacing every word as it hits its mark. “I hate you! I fucking hate you!” 

Darkness envelops the entire room, It’s cold mist threatening to devour anyone who so dares to defy its power. “Azriel, release my sister before I sever those hands off your body.” Rhys stands at the bottom of the stairs, his power bouncing off him like flames of a fire. The rest of the inner circle gathered around him, watching in horror as both males stood off in a staring contest. It’s Azriel who wavers; finally releasing you to shuffle away from him. 

Azriel sits on his heels, a subtle submissive pose showing respect to his High Lord. “Rhys, I’m sorry. I’ve been in love with your sister for some time now. Too cowardice to tell you or her,” Azriels gaze falls on you. “I’ve been a mess since you left. Masking my pain with alcohol and drugs, which is no excuse. But tonight I took a hallucinogen, and,” his chin wobbles as he tries to hold back his tears, “I made the biggest mistake of my life. I know I’ve lost you, and you will never forgive me. However, I need you to know, in front of everyone, that I have always loved you. I will always love you.” 

Azriel lowers his head. The flood of emotions finally pulled him under the surface, drowning him in his own misery. Fat heavy tears break from his eyes; landing in scattered drops along the floor beneath him. This pain is all consuming, torturous in its own vile way. Tearing at his heart shred by shred, a disastrous mess all by his own hands. A lonely scarred heart to match his scarred hands. Hands that once held the most precious gem, a rare Violet beauty; now only hold the memory of a lost love. 

When Azriel lifts his head to see your face for the last time, he’s once again too late. Fear latches onto his ankles like a heavy chain, anchoring him to the bottom of the sea. You’re gone. His darkness driving away your bright light, leading you into the arms of someone new.  

Part 2 (Something Borrowed)

[toothfa-1-ry]

Little Miss Diggory

"Is that her?" You whisper as you lean towards the sandy haired boy who was slightly frowing

"Yea" cedric breathed out as he noticed Rita Skeeter and her abomination of a outfit

Your quote un quote bestfriend Cedric diggory was chosen as one of the contestants for the tri wizard competition which lead to being interviewd by a certain witch called Rita Skeeter who had a rather infamous reputation, not the good kind of course

"She seems" your lost for words as you look at her "interesting"

"She's bloody mad, completly lost her marbles" cedric rambles, obviously annoyed as he attempts to block you away from her vision. His light Irish accent suddenly flaring up which only happened when he was uncomfortable

The fact usually kind and sweet cedric diggory was calling someone mad, you knew that whatever you had heard of Rita skeeter before, she must have been worser than her rumours

"Don't make eye contact" he whispered

You nodd, quickly turning your head away but it's too late, Rita skeeter had locked eyes with you and a nasty grin forms on her face when she sees cedric with you

"Yoohoo! Cedric!" She cried out in a patronizing sing song voice as she approaches the both of you

You suddenly feel the urge to cling to your books and hide behind cedric

Cedric grimace before he turns around, putting on a forced awkward smile "Rita... I wish I could say it's a pleasure"

"Oh you naughty boy!" Rita's giggles in a high pitch tone "I'm back here again for another interview, a more casual one of course" she says as she ogles between you and cedric

Cedric notices and comes inbetween you and Rita "well shall we go somewhere else than?"

He seriously did not want Rita skeeter among all people to talk to you, God knows what she might write about you. It was already bad enough that Rita had written about him in such a patronizing way

"Oh no" Rita motions cedric to move away "I want to know, who this is" her eyes widen as he looks at you

Cedric inwardly groans, he whispers "I'm really sorry, i didn't want to get you into this"

You nodd, squeezing his arm which seemed to be the wrong thing to do as Rita Skeeter suddenly gasp and her pen begin writing something down

"Oh my your very pretty" Rita came closer to you, her manicured nails now rest on your shoulders "i bet Mr diggory here thinks your very pretty don't you?" She questions cedric

"I mean- well yes" cedric blurts out, his face rather pink with the suddenly confrontation "but I'm not sure why that's relevant right now"

"What about you sweetheart?" Rita questions you

"Cedric and I are good friends" you manage to mutter put before she cuts you in again

"Good friends? Bestfriends? Whats your name dearie?"

You give a confused look as you nodd slowly "im y/n uh l/n and-"

She cuts you off again

"Well do you fancy him? Is this a friends to lovers sort of thing? Ooh now that's something I like" Rita nodds excitedly as her feather pen moves even faster

You notice Cedrics red face with matched yours aswell "Oh i-"

But neither of you can butt in to say anything

"Tell me, how does it feel that your boyfriend" she points at cedric "is in the triwizard competition? Are you happy? Worried? Scared"

Your face goes bright pink "Oh cedric's not my..."

"Y/n and I are good friends" cedric manages to say from underneath the tint of red which clouded his face

"Oh pish posh!" Rita skeeter exclaims as she hit cedric with a pen which made you sneer slightly "you can tell me anything dear! Now tell me how did the both of you start dating?"

"We're not dating-"

"My my... your quite private aren't you" Rita raises her eyebrows as she purses her lips, obviously annoyed at the lack of intell "no worries, ill just have to make up an interesting story"

"Rita i think that's enough for today" Cedric announces, sensing your uncomfortablness

"Oh! But one last question! One last!"

Exasperated cedric sighs as you brace yourself for whatever the last question it may be

"If you had to rate your experience with your boyfriend" she wiggles her eyebrows "ehm.. how much would you rate him?"

Your face flushes a deep crimson, before you can even manage to squeak out a response cedric cuts it off

"Okay that's it" he grabs your hand and rushes off despite Rita Skeeter's protest

"Would you say that he's a good kisser miss y/n? If you don't answer I'm gonna take that as a yes" you could hear Rita skeeter bellow from down the hallway

[fadingdaggerr]

first of all, your writing? phenomenal. absolutely obsessed with the way you portray everything. I've always struggled with being able to picture what I read, but the way you write makes it surprisingly much easier.

second, if you are open to it, could you maybe write a melissa/reader fic inspired by the song "Dessert Rose" by Lolo Zouaï? I listened to it for the first time in a minute the other day and have not been able to stop thinking about a melissa schemmenti fan fic to this song.

be my protector

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above, based on desert rose by lolo zouaï | 5.5 k

includes: angst, hurt/comfort, so much dialogue oops, r is scary dog privilege, slightly ooc mel

warnings: homophobia, religious themes/iconography, themes of guilt/shame

italics are flashbacks | st. rita - matron saint of impossible causes

translations: faccia di culo (assface), dolcezza (sweetness), cogliona (stupid)

note: this song is about a fight between identity and faith. however, i know legit nothing about catholicism since i was raised pagan, so if my info is wrong im sorry.

You’d forced yourself to spend a few nights apart so you could finish your own work, always too distracted by Melissa’s presence to even think. Three days at your own apartment was torture, but the motivation worked as planned. A little smile crosses your lips as you look at the Go Away mat, playing with your keys under the porch light until you find the one with the pink dot of Melissa’s nail polish.

Before you even get the key in, the door swings open to Jacob, shaking like a geriatric chihuahua, “oh thank God you’re here tonight.”

Ridding yourself of your jacket and shoes, you chuckle, “you made me sync our calendars, you knew I’d be here. Where’s Mel?”

He knocks his head to the side, “pacing and muttering in the kitchen. I interrupted and got called a ‘faccia di culo,’ but I think that’s a type of bread.”

“Not even close,” you say, patting his shoulder. Moving past him, you lean against the doorway of the kitchen. Eyes closed, Melissa mutters to herself as she walks back and forth. Nails of one hand dig into her side through her shirt, knuckles white from the pressure. The other hand fiddles with her saints, rubbing them between her fingers. Flushed cheeks puff with each breath, clearly trying to calm herself down.

Walking in, you seat yourself at the island, letting her come to you. A sigh passes her lips, telling you that she knows about your presence. After a beat, her pacing stops, and your hand reaches out to take away the harsh grip from her side. She tries to shake your hand away, but you insist. 

Letting you this time, she keeps her eyes closed as you gently massage the tension out of her fingers. Green eyes crack open, looking drained and still lingering with anger. Entwining your fingers, you pull her to stand between your legs. Bringing her hand up, you press a kiss to soft skin, a quiet plea to know what happened.

The shake of her head is a stern not-right-now. Entirely not calm enough to speak without yelling, her head just drops to your shoulder. You lean your head against hers, squeezing the hand laced in yours. Her weight rests completely on you after a moment, letting your arms wrap around her to keep her upright. The hand clenched at her sides relaxes, coming to rest on your thigh. Scratching up and down her back, you feel the stiff breaths fade, replaced with deep sighs.

Coming to hold her hip, you push her back from you. Nodding up, you silently ask her to go upstairs. Melissa squints at you, a silent rejection of your treatment. Cocking your head to the side, you raise your eyebrows in a silent plea.

Green eyes speak for her, I’m not a child.

Just let me take care of you, yours say back.

With a heavy breath, she pulls back from you. Trudging from the kitchen, she completely ignores Jacob’s wide gaze that follows her. Loud thuds of her footsteps go upstairs, with you trailing behind her. You look to her roommate, giving him a thumbs-up as you make your way up.

Closing the bedroom door behind you, you move to sit next to her on the bed. “You don’t have to tell me what’s bothering you,” you start softly. “All I need to know is if I need to break out my brass knuckles.”

Melissa lets out a dry laugh, keeping her eyes on the floor, “no, no knuckles. Just Seamus. He invited me- us- to dinner at his place. This weekend.”

“Okay?” You say slowly, finger pointing into your chest. The youngest Schemmenti sibling is over at least twice a month for dinner, the only you’ve met, but adore nonetheless. “Why’s that making you so… this?” You gesture to her tense posture and she gives you a sly look.

“He always comes here. The boy can’t cook, what’s he even inviting us over for?” She moves her gaze to the floor, “it’s fishy.”

You nod silently, thinking for a second. If she had ever given you a straight answer on what happened with the other siblings, this would be so much easier. Seamus is only still acceptable because he was too young to have done anything. Every time you tried to broach the topic, she’d just say they were dead to her and that it ain’t good to talk about the dead. It had been months since you tried, after she nearly broke a door off the hinge over seeing her sister in passing at the charter school. 

“Well I certainly won’t force you to go,” you start slowly, “but it’s dinner, baby.” Leaning into her, you grab her hand and lace your fingers together, “he’ll probably order some takeout, so no worries about him poisoning us. Plus you got me, I’m always on your side.”

Looking at you, Melissa scans your face as she weighs her options. A small smile toys at her lips, “how do you always do that?’’

“What?”

“Make everything better?” Melissa gives a faux pout, hand grabbing your cheeks into a smoosh.

Pulling her hand away from your face, you press a kiss to her palm, “I don’t, I’m just telling you my thoughts.” Rolling her eyes, her fingers graze your cheek again with the faintest of touches. Just as she's about to lean in, you add, “go apologize to Chicken Little, he’s probably used Google translate by now.”

Pink lips form into another pout. Raising your brows, you motion to the door. Biting her tongue, Melissa stands up and walks to the door. Just before she opens it, she strides back over to grab your face, planting a solid kiss on your lips. Turning back, she smirks to herself as she walks down the stairs.

—☽—

Melissa Schemmenti loved her family and her family loved her. Once.

Family dinner every night was always loud with so many conversations happening at the same time. Tony and Kristin Marie are always chatting about the show they watched together, John Anthony trying to recount his whole day to no one in particular, Mary Camille pestering Melissa about how they should rearrange their room again. There was a sense of peace in the white noise her family created. A comfort in the routine.

Once she was in high school, most of the family did not attend anymore. Tony was always off with his friends for days on end and Marie stayed up in her room, taking her plate silently with her. Melissa always stayed, directly at her mother’s side, holding her hand as they said grace. With every dinner, she always had to kick Kristin Marie to remind her to shut her eyes, unless she wanted to face the disgusted glint in Teresa’s eyes.

Arriving home late after tutoring, Melissa’s brows furrowed. It was so quiet in the house, eerily so. Walking towards the kitchen, she could smell the vegetable risotto, it was always her favorite. Following her nose to the table, Melissa pouted at Mary Camille in her usual seat next to their mother. The only open chair was at the very end of the table, facing only Teresa. Taking her place, she peeked up to her family, met with everyone’s eyes already on her.

Maria Christina, who was always glued to her side, was leaning away, shoulders bumping with Tony’s, who was surprisingly home. Looking at Kristin Marie, her gaze was not met. The sense of calm that had been flowing through her was ripped away. The edges of her vision frayed as the seat at the head of the table was filled. Green eyes that match hers stared back, unblinking and devoid of care.

Manicured hands rested on the table, nails tapping. The face across from hers so alike her own, it had always felt like the future peering at her through a furrowed brow. Tensing, she knew not to break eye contact.

“Melissa Ann Caterina,” her mother said, slow and acidic.

“Ma,” she answered, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

Red nails dug into the wood, “who is Bianca?”

Biting her inner lip, Melissa looked at her mother with wide, terrified eyes. Teresa stayed stoic, brows only raising slightly, still demanding an answer to her question. “I don’t know,” she mumbled.

“Your dolcezza on the swim team,” her mother spat. A small pink notebook was placed on the table, bent edges flattened. “Does this ring any bells, cogliona?”

No one knew where her diary was, other than who she shared a room with. Her eyes flicked to Mary Camille, who looked as if she’s about to cry when her hazel eyes met green. If fear wasn’t pumping through her veins, she would have strangled her sister right this very moment. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Melissa nodded in response to her mother.

“Selfish,” Teresa hissed, “everything I’ve taught you, that Father David taught you, gone. You spit in the face of blood, of God? St. Rita won’t even want you.”

“I listened,” Melissa whimpered out, voice and hands trembling alike.

“Clearly not.”

The eyes of her siblings dropped from her frame, all watching their laps as their mother yelled relentlessly. Air hurts to breathe, skin crawling, bones aching in guilt. Melissa wished she could run, but she couldn’t even move. Her shaky hand rose to her neck, grasping at her chest. The gold pendant felt like it may just burn her.

—☽—

Wild eyes shoot open, body sitting up in the bed. Heaving, she tries to catch her breath, fingers squeezing at the comforter. To her left, you’re still sleeping, facing her with a hand reaching out. Trembling, Melissa removes herself from the bed, trudging to the ensuite. Looking at herself in the mirror, she still sees that sixteen-year-old girl, puffy-eyed and red-nosed.

The walls were too familiar. Brick everywhere, plastic over the lampshade, worn down rugs faded and fused to the floor. It’s the same, it never changes. The grandfather clock ticking at the end of the hall gives away the occasion.

Forcing herself to take deep breaths, Melissa leans against the cold wall to soothe her clammy skin. Her hands splay out in front of her, tightening into fists then relaxing, attempting to rid the tension instead of punching the mirror. Tears burn her eyes but do not fall, she refuses to let them get to her again.

Always seven o’clock. Always the open seat at the end.

In bed, your hand brushes across the warm space where Melissa had been. Cracking open an eye, you pout at the empty spot. The light from under the bathroom door draws your attention, staring at it as you wait for her to come back. Flickering eyes pop open at the sound of rattled breathing from the other room.

Stumbling off the mattress, you drag yourself in front of the door. Knocking softly, you rest your forehead against smooth wood, “baby? You okay?”

“Fine, hon,” comes her muffled reply, “just go back to bed.”

“Can’t without you,” you say, more awake now. No reply comes, just the sound of her breathing, still fast. The stuttering gives away her attempt to calm herself, desperate to lessen the weight in her chest. “Let me in, Mel,” you beg quietly, fingers tracing the grain of the wooden door.

Without answering, the door opens to reveal her, wearing only your t-shirt and a frown. Fat tears cling to her lashes, her stubbornness keeping them from her cheeks. Shuffling past you, she sinks herself back on the mattress, looking at you expectantly. Joining her, you open your arms to let her curl into your side.

Burying into your neck, Melissa releases a deep breath that had been stuck in her chest since she awoke. Letting her weight rest against you, her arm wraps firmly around your middle. Twirling sections of her hair, your eyes flit across the ceiling while the gears of your mind turn.

Melissa is so glad she’s not facing you, croaking out, “was just a bad dream.”

“It’s not just a bad dream if it makes you cry, baby,” you say against her hair, pressing a kiss there. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Shaking her head, she settles further into you. Hand dragging down, she tucks it under your shirt, splaying across your side. Pressing her lips to your neck, Melissa silently hopes that you’ll take it instead of an answer. Another kiss lands on her forehead, an acceptance.

Sleep finds you quickly, but Melissa’s mind evades it at every chance. Leaning away from you slightly, she simply watches you. The rise and fall of your chest, the way your head turned as she pulled away. Her eyes trace your face, attention catching on the slight scrunch of your brow. Guilt bubbles in her throat, hot tears stinging once again. Tucking back into your side, she places another kiss to your neck, this time an apology for making you worry.

—☽—

It’s better to not pry, no matter how much you wish you could right now. Melissa’s eerie silence has filled the morning, and you’ve found yourself thankful that Jacob fell asleep at Janine’s movie night. Sweet and well-intentioned as he is, his overactive heart might just land him with worse than an assumption of focaccia.

Rounding into the bedroom, the redhead sits at her vanity, diligently applying her eyeliner. Watching her place it down, you come up behind her to press a kiss to the crown of her head. Wordlessly, you detangle the necklaces beside her, arranging them. Moving her hair to the side, you put on the diamond her Nonna got her for her thirteenth birthday. Then her cross, silver to match the other chain. Her three golden saints finish it, matching the rings adorning her fingers.

Melissa hums a silent thanks, unscrewing her mascara. Stealing her room temperature coffee, you lean against the vanity. “You’re beautiful,” you say into the mug.

Melissa turns to you, black coated lashes on one eye, still-blonde lashes on the other. With an unamused face, she mutters, “only you think that right now.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true,” you match her quiet tone, tilting your head down to look at her through your lashes. Flicking your gaze over her, you finally realize that the sweater she wears is yours. A grin passes your lips, leaning to press another kiss to her head. Pushing off the vanity, you leave her to get ready alone, the silence making you slightly jittery.

Flopping onto the couch in the living room, you stare at the ceiling until in wait, losing yourself in your mind. Melissa’s fear about going to her brother’s was still so puzzling, clearly eating at her despite her refusal to acknowledge it to you. Just a bad dream, she had called it. As much as you didn’t believe her, and still don’t, you left it alone.

The creak of Melissa walking down the steps pulls you from your mind, sitting up to look at her over the couch. How small she looked, nervous and bundled in your ancient sweater, fiddling with the frayed edge of the sleeve. You extend your hand over the back of the couch, inviting her closer. Sitting up on your knees, you tug her into your space.

“We don’t have to go,” you say, “can just blame it on me, say I’m sick and need you to nurse me back to health. Or that I got shot, whatever works.”

A sudden laugh shoots from her lips, “oh, of course, the only two options for an excuse.”

“I went out in a blaze of glory, so sorry Seamus,” you say with a false solemn tone, bringing her hand to your heart in a double-handed clutch. “My last wish was beer and mediocre Chinese food, a shame we must miss it.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Melissa fights back giggles. “We’ll go. It’ll be fine, I’ll be fine.”

You know that she’s speaking more to herself than you, so you just nod. Freeing her hand from your grasp, Melissa shoves her feet into heeled boots. Looking over her shoulder, her expectant gaze pulls you from your seat to put on your Converse.

Grabbing the keys before she can, you pull the door open to motion for her head out before you. As you start the car, your hand hovers over the gear shift, debating if you actually leave with her so clearly stressed beside you. A soft hand falls over yours, wrapping your hand around the shift in silent permission.

A quiet drive leads you to the other end of the city, in front of a brick building with only a few cars parked on the street. Removing the keys from the engine, you get out to jog around the car, opening the door for Melissa. Green eyes scan the street, eyeing each vehicle with suspicion, but relinquishes once you wrap a steady arm around her waist.

Pressing the button with the crossed out name, knowing well of the Schemmenti habit, you wait for the buzzer. The click of the door unlocking comes, and you tug it open, holding it open for Melissa. With a deep breath, she walks in. Immediately, her hand grasps your own, almost walking behind you as you walk down to Seamus’s apartment.

Knocking is unnecessary as the youngest Schemmenti opens the door with a massive grin, “you actually came!”

You chuckle, shrugging off your jacket and grabbing Melissa’s from her, hanging them on the hooks beside you. Leaning into his side-hug, you joke, “well, I was promised sesame chicken.”

“It’ll be here, I called like fifteen minutes ago,” he says, wrapping an arm around his big sister’s shoulders. “And worry not, Melly Bean, I got a double order of crab rangoons.”

Melissa rolls her eyes at the nickname, fighting the grin on her face. Pulling from his side, she brings herself over to you, arm tucking itself around your hips. Your own goes around her shoulder, the other offering her a freshly opened beer. Immediately, she chugs half of it, not even bothering to look at your reaction of pursed lips.

The pre-game shows appear on the TV, announcers talking about star players and underdogs of the season. Leaning against your side more, Melissa tucks her head into your shoulder. Squeezing her shoulder in silent question, you feel her nod softly.

Half way through your beers, Seamus looks up from his phone, eyes staying clear of either of yours or Melissa’s eyes. Standing, he awkwardly lingers, “the- uh- the food’s here. So, I’m gonna grab the food… because it’s here. The food.” 

Your brows scrunch, looking him over. The slight shifting of his weight gives away his anxiety, as if his repetition wasn’t enough. Without really thinking, your arm wraps tighter around the redhead’s shoulders. Pushing back your skepticism, you say, “then go get it?”

“Yeah, kid. Don’t need permission, it’s your place,” Melissa’s dismissive tone makes you turn. So tuned into the game, she hadn’t picked up on his tone, let alone his tense posture. Turning quickly, Seamus nearly runs out of the room to leave the apartment. Keeping your eyes on him, you watch him take a deep breath before stepping out the door. Simmering, you turn back to the TV, unblinking gaze barely focusing. What is this little shit up to?

When the door reopens after five minutes, two voices come through it. The tension in your body finally catches up to Melissa, head flying off your shoulder so fast, you swear she could have gotten whiplash. Turning to face you, a mix of fear and anger crosses her face. Glossy lips fall into a deep frown, stern eyes in place to fight her tears.

“I knew it was a setup,” she grumbles, pulling away from you to rise from the couch, “never shoulda fucking came here.” Following behind her, you keep your space.

In the doorway of the kitchen, Melissa pauses, staring at her mother. Sensing the eyes on her, Teresa turns, judging eyes flicking over her daughter before a crocodile smile crosses her face. “My Melly,” she says, opening her arms. “Come here, let me look at you.”

Shuffling, Melissa approaches her mother cautiously with crossed arms. Stopping just outside her grasp, she asks, “did you make him do this?”

“It was him that asked me if I wanted to see you,” Teresa says. “I’m guessing he didn’t tell you?”

“He left that part out,” Melissa says, nails digging into her skin through her sweater. “What even got you here?”

“I can’t want to see my daughter?” The only reply the question gets is a raised brow. Teresa caves, “he said you had a new boyfriend. Well, partner, like the younger kids are saying now. But I wanted to meet him anyway, he here?”

The sigh that passes Melissa’s lips can be felt from your spot around the corner. It was her telling you to get over to her, forcing the bandaid off. With all your strength, you school your features, keeping the daggers from going to Seamus. A smile crosses your lips, sticking your hand out and introducing yourself, “nice to meet you.”

“And you,” Teresa says, eyes fighting a squint. The expression is so similar to Melissa’s that it makes you pause. Retracting your hand, step back next to Melissa. Green eyes meet their match, and the staredown between mother and daughter feels as though it may start a fire.

“Food’s ready to eat,” Seamus says through his voice cracking, “grab whatever you want.”

“Thank you, Seamus,” you say with a sickly sweet smile, stalking towards him to make plates for you and Melissa. Stepping back as you get closer, he keeps the island between you and him, moving when you move. Your eyes flick to Melissa, watching her wide eyes stare at the floor as she seats herself at the end of the island. Pushing her plate over to her, she silently accepts it, waiting for you before she starts eating.

The silence over the table is deafening, somehow reverberating off brick walls. Seating yourself next to Melissa, you push around sesame chicken until someone else takes a bite. Across the table, opposite of Melissa, sits her mother, twirling lo mein with precision. It’s a one sided stalemate, Melissa’s eyes never leaving her plate.

A scoff from Teresa echoes in the room, all eyes turning to her. “Seriously?”

Green eyes stay on the rangoons, “what, Ma?”

“You do this to me again?” The acid in her tone makes Melissa’s eyes squeeze shut. The more her mother speaks, the tighter they get, stars appearing behind her eyelids.

It feels the same. The brick walls. The long table separating them. No one touching their food. The way Seamus’s eyes falter when he tries to look at her. It’s as if the universe is hellbent on her repeating this moment. Black seeps in the edges of her vision, crackling and dense. Her mother’s voice feels like it’s in her head, like it never left. All the warmth in Melissa’s body sits in the center of her chest, fire burning beneath her pendants.

“Again and again, you defy everything I’ve taught you,” her mother continues. “I thought this little game was done, but of course not. Not for you.”

The anger bubbling inside you begins to spill, white knuckles gripping the edge of the table. Mask dropping, the disdain for the woman in front of you palpable. Whether it's your grip or Melissa’s shaking that vibrates the tables, you can’t be bothered to care.

“I prayed and prayed, begging for St. Rita to help you, to give you a chance. But you’re longer just a lost cause, you’re an abomina-”

“Lady, shut your fucking mouth!” You bark, standing up. Leaning forward on your hands you seeth, “you do not speak to her that way. Ever!”

Melissa’s eyes fly from her plate to you, brows practically meeting her hairline. Scanning over you, she can see the anger seeping from you. It’s unlike any other time she’s seen you mad, you’re beyond seething. Your name passes her lips, trying to get you to stand down, but her voice fails her.

Teresa rises from her seat, “you do not get to speak. You are not part of this family.”

“I’m not part of your family, thank God. But Melissa, she’s my family. And I don’t like people fucking with my family.”

The glare she gives you, it's so similar to Melissa’s once again. The thought alone makes a small smirk cross your face, looking at her like you’re daring her to try you. A face so similar to Melissa’s could never intimidate you, even if it’s worn by someone who hates you.

“If you have anything else to say,” you step closer, “you say it to me. Not her.”

“Okay-” Seamus tries to cut in and defuse the tension. Both you and Teresa turn to look at him with equal warning, immediately putting him back in his seat. Looking back at each other, the older woman points a finger at you.

“My daughter rejected her family, her God. And now, she’s burying herself deeper with encouragement from you,” she spits, lips curling in anger.

Stepping closer again, you meet her pointing hand. Voice low, you duck into her space, “was it her that rejected you, or you that rejected your daughter?”

Turning away, you join Melissa’s side, and hand wrapping around her bicep. A gentle tug pulls her from her seat, walking her to the door. Grabbing her coat, you wordlessly place it around her, avoiding her eyes. Shrugging on your own coat, you announce into the apartment, “feel free to not come by next week, Seamus.”

Opening the door, you motion for Melissa to walk out first, feeling her stern gaze on you. Silence in the hall follows you to the car. The second the radio begins to play, Melissa turns it off, just staring at you as you start the car and begin to drive home. Mouth agape, her words falter. Flicking to the steering wheel, she watches you flex your hands against the leather, desperate to smother the fire inside you.

Her eyes never leave you until you pull into her driveway, immediately throwing herself out of the car and climbing up the steps. Pausing at the door, she groans, knowing you have the keys. Stepping in, you both stay quiet as you take off your shoes and jackets.

Trudging up the stairs, Melissa follows you. Neither of you speak as you change into your pajamas, nor as you get in bed. Facing away from you, Melissa stares unblinkingly at the outline of her dresser. Turning to face her back, you watch her breathing, seeing the stuttering in the rise and fall. Leaning forward, you press a tentative kiss to her shoulder.

“I love you,” you whisper, patiently waiting for her echo. All you get is a little hum, and her face burying into her pillow.

—☽—

Heavy eyelids crack open as sleep crumbles away. Instinctively, you look to the side, seeing Melissa still sleeping beside you. Curled in on herself, she seemed to have shuffled further away from you before falling asleep. The thought alone makes you look away, turning to the clock. Only six in the morning, on a Sunday no less. Sighing softly, you roll out of bed, blindly grabbing a sweatshirt from the chair in the corner. Quietly as possible, you walk out of the room, sure to avoid the creaky floorboard right outside the door. Slowly moving down the stairs, you round into the kitchen.

Feeling too lazy to bother with the French press, you scoop grounds into the coffee maker. As the pot sputters, you reach above to the cupboards for three mugs. Part of you hopes that Jacob doesn’t come down for a while, leaving space for you and Melissa to talk when she finally gets up. The other part sort of hopes he does, that way you can delay whatever this conversation will be.

Stirring your coffee, you hear the door of the bedroom open, slow steps coming towards the kitchen. Hearing the familiar shuffle in her steps, you make Melissa's coffee, adding sugar to hers unlike your own. Leaning against the counter, you hold it out the moment she enters the room.

  Taking it with an averted gaze, she gives a slight hum in thanks. Resting against the butcher block, she finally looks at you. Fading mascara and eyeliner crumbles around her eyes, lips no longer glossy. Even if she wouldn’t agree, she’s achingly beautiful. Her tired eyes are just as hard to read as usual, too many thoughts circulating behind jade.

A moment of silence falls over the space, both of you sipping out of your mugs in contemplation. Melissa places her mug down first, breaking the tension. Tilting her head, she prompts you to speak first.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, placing your mug on the counter next to you. “I shouldn’t have yelled- or swore- at her.”

“No,” she mutters, “you shouldn’t have. But why did you?”

Feeling your face warm a little, you look down at the floor, eyes tracing the grain of the wood. “For the same reasons I said. You’re my family, I love you,” your fingers flex against the marble counter. “And hearing her talk to you like that, I couldn’t just sit there. Even if she’s your mother.”

“I love you, too. And how much you love me,” Melissa says. Stepping closer to bring your attention back to her, her brow raises as she speaks, “and you need to keep your temper in check, especially if shit like that ever happens again.”

Scanning her face, you can see that the lingering anger from last night is entirely gone. There’s something close to appreciation, and a hint of warning with her cocked brow. Pursing your lips to keep from grinning, you just nod.

A hand releases from the counter, drawing an X over your heart, “no brass. Real or metaphorical, promise.”

“Good,” Melissa mumbles with a smile growing on her lips. Grabbing your wrist, she hauls you towards her. Soft lips press against your own, slow and gentle. Pushing into her, you back her into the butcher block, hands locked on her hips. Your tongue glides across her lips, immediately let in. Delighting in the sighed moan that follows, you smile against her. Her hands slide up your arms to cup your face, keeping you close as she deepens the kiss.

Eager fingers slip underneath her shirt, gripping warm skin. Goosebumps rise up your neck as Melissa’s nails dig into you ever so slightly. Just as your hands move to her thighs, ready to sit her on the counter, fast steps descend the old staircase. Jumping apart, you fix Melissa’s shirt, rolling your eyes at the interruption. Grabbing your mug, you press a kiss to her cheek before shuffling back upstairs to shower.

When you come back down, Melissa has migrated to the couch, sprawled across as she watches whatever was on. Rolling over the back, you carefully drop on top of her. With a quiet oof, her arms wrap around you loosely, letting you get comfortable. Tucking into her shoulder, your eyes linger on her neck, tracing the chains. Your hand comes up to fiddle with the saints, thumb brushing over in indented designs. They’d become faded, time and her anxious rubbing of the metal taking the impression away.

Feeling your attention, Melissa peeks down. Her own hand comes to single them out.

“This one’s from Nonna,” she says softly. “Mary, basically every little girl gets this one. And this one’s from Barb, John Baptist,” her thumb brushes over it, “he’s for teachers.” She pulls up the last one, the least degraded of the three, “and this one’s Raphael. Healing.”

You hum, fingers more so tracing her skin than medal anymore, “who’s he from?”

“Myself,” she says coyly. “Kinda against the rules, they’re normally gifted, but…”

You press a kiss to her shoulder, cuddling into her further, “rules, shmules. Intention is what matters. At least I assume it is.”

Melissa doesn’t answer, just tightens her grip around you. Tears fight to fall down her cheeks, and she lets them silently go. So free and comfortable in this moment, with no separation between either part of who she is. It has taken her so long to allow herself the duality, to strip away the bits of her faith that didn’t allow her to simply live. With the family she’s built herself, her Abbott people and now you, there is no choice that must be made.

note: thank you sweet anon for the compliments, they mean the world. this was genuinely one of the hardest reqs i have had because i didn't know this song previously. i went down a rabbit hole to understand the meaning and find a way to incorporate themes of the verses and chorus. thank god for my christian family for giving me something to pull from /s

as always, feedback is greatly appreciated. love you big time xo

[rhysazriel]

Azriel has a crush on the new bartender at Rita’s.

A/N: I just love the thought of a blushing, crushing Az that actually makes a move for once <333

Masterlist

//

To say he was impressed would've been an understatement. Azriel was completely in awe watching you pour a pint of ale, shake up a cocktail and pour three shots of Fireball all at the same time.

You managed to keep the line short, customers happy and still sing along to whatever obnoxiously loud song the live band was playing.

When it was Azriel’s turn to be served, you greeted him with a kind smile and leaned against the bar with your arms outstretched—an act that took everything in Azriel not to look down at your chest.

"Hello again, handsome. What can I get you?"

He almost choked on his saliva, practically froffing at the mouth from your words. Were you just this friendly with everyone? Or had you been watching Azriel the way he'd been watching you?

It was probably the former, he thought.

Az cleared his throat. “Two pints of ale, please.”

“Anything else?” There was a flirty tone to your words, Azriel was sure of it. Maybe that was what made him reply what he did.

“A date?” He cheesed, a blush on his cheeks from the embarrassment of his own words. Even his shadows began to coil around his neck until they settled behind his shoulders. As if they, too, were embarrassed by their masters forwardness.

Your eyebrows raised to your hairline as you blinked at him, slightly taken back by his brashness but a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth nonetheless.

“A date?” You teased back, voice lighter than before as you slowed your movements just long enough to talk to him some more.

Azriel was sure he fucked it. He’d been watching you the past few weeks, since you started working at Rita’s. Every night he frequented, you seemed to be working behind the bar. You’d shared a few words here and there, usually just taking his order or cleaning glasses from the table he and his friends occupied.

And yet in all those weeks, he never got your name and never offered his.

“Sorry,” Azriel spluttered, wishing for the ground to swallow him whole, “I don’t usually hit on barmaids like that.”

Your brows raised impossibly higher. “Oh,” you spoke, “So you have a thing for barmaids?” Your hand closed around the lever for the ale pump and pulled down slowly, tilting his glass to pour his drink.

Azriel’s cheeks grew impossibly pinker and he nervously scratched at his jaw. “No,” he stammered, “I just mean I don’t usually ask someone out straight away. ‘Specially like that.”

You hummed as your smirk grew, taking note of the impressive wings that hung proudly on his back. You were making him nervous and that made you feel a little giddy in your lower stomach.

Gods, he was stunning.

"Buy me a drink after my shift and we’ll see about a date."

His head snapped up to look at you again, fucked out by the naughty glint in your eyes. There was no way this was happening.

"When do you finish?"

"Thirty minutes," you placed two pints of ale on the counter before him, sliding them his way.

Azriel blindly reached into his back pocket for his wallet but you shook your head. "It's on the house."

He swallowed thickly, not liking how easily you had his pants tightening. "Thank you..." his eyes trailed down to the pinned name badge on your waist apron—something that he was certain hadn’t been there all the other times you’d spoken, "...Y/N."

You liked a little too much how your name rolled off his tongue. Your had never been like this with a customer before, had no idea what had gotten into you, but that didn't mean you were going to stop.

"You're welcome..."

"Azriel," he interrupted.

You hummed, a small nod to follow. Pretty name for a pretty male, you thought. You remained staring at one another for possibly a moment too long, other patrons waiting for their drinks growing a little ansty.

"Come find me in thirty?"

Azriel smiled, warmly. "I'll see you then."

[desideriumwriter]

Anyone But You | Chapter 11

Chapter Summary: It's now Fred's turn to hold a grudge against you, you try to smooth over things with him by returning something of his. After unexpected events unfold at the third task, you get comforted by the last person you'd want to be comforted by. You think.

Pairing - Fred Weasley x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Category - enemies to lovers + hurt/comfort

Content Warnings - reader is in denial once again, canon character death, grief, crying, this one is just a mess of emotions yall

Word Count - 4.5k

A/N: supriseee, this is why i changed the dates of the tasks, buckle up. this one is...a lot. sorry.

Series Masterlist | F.W Masterlist | Previous | Next | Navi

Fred hadn’t made any contact with you since your outburst at the Ball.

He paid you no mind when he walked past you the next day to board the Hogwarts Express. He never sent any owls like he usually did over the remainder of winter break. He nor George bothered you anymore in potions. During the second task of the tournament, Fred stood as far away as he could from you on the wooden dock.

It had been almost two months since you lost it at him and the most he did was glance in your direction and shove past you once in the hallway.

Yet, there were still constant reminders of him and you lingering around.

God, you were infuriated when you saw a photo of Fred and you had made it onto Rita Skeeter's section in the Daily Prophet.

“That bitch is a bloody liar!” You exclaimed as you looked at the newspaper.

Of course, her photographer had to get a photo at the exact moment you smiled and let out a small laugh instead of when you stood up and began shouting at him.

Now that seemingly innocent split second of a moment between Fred and you was playing on a loop in a heart shaped frame.

“Woah! Language!” Cedric was shocked yet amused by your outburst.

“Young love? This is what you call young love?” You mocked, pointing at the photo of Fred and you, “How’d she even get in? I can’t believe it!”

“Maybe it’s a sign.” Cedric shrugged, laying down on the stone bench.

“A sign for what? That Rita Skeeter has no idea what the hell she’s talking about?” You went on as Cedric closed his eyes and sighed. “I mean, come on. I smile at him for three seconds and all of the sudden I’m in love?”

“Merlin's beard, just put us all out of our misery and admit it already.“ Cedric let out a dramatic groan, rubbing his face.

“Admit what?”

"Admit you have feelings for him."

"Only the worst ones." You whacked him with the newspaper. “Besides, I already told you what happened. I’m sure he hates me now too.”

“I’m sure he’s just heartbroken. The first stage is denial.” Cedric commented, earning him a disagreeing head shake from you. “You know, some time in the future you’re gonna look back and think: Damn, Cedric was right, I am in love with Fred Weasley, I’m just too stubborn to admit it.” He teased in a high pitched voice. You hit him again.

“Shove off, just tell me how your date went with Cho.”

It seemed like no matter what you did, you couldn’t escape Fred.

Even with Angelina and Katie refusing to bring them up, even with Fred or George no longer bothering you, even with Fred literally hating you now, you couldn’t escape him.

Like when you opened your dresser doors, looking for your missing glove, only to find Fred’s hat he gave to you at the first task.

You didn’t realize you still had it, you didn’t realize you never gave it back.

He never asked for it back.

The guilt was settling in.

He never asked for it back though. He could’ve taken it back after the first task was over, or the next day, or really any other time. But he didn’t. He let you keep it. All this time has passed and he let you keep it. Why?

Fuck, you felt like you were going insane. You had to talk to someone about this.

“Cedric! Cedric!” You called out, running up to him in the empty courtyard. You were quite lucky to find him alone these days, he usually was always walking in a group of his supporters. “I need your help! I really need your help!” Cedric acknowledged you, but he didn’t stop walking.

“I’m not sure if I can help you right now, I promised to meet Cho at the pitch in like ten minutes-”

“Your snogging sesh with her can wait!” Cedric goggled at you for a second, continuing to walk.

“It’s urgent! It’s about Fred!” You grabbed onto his arm, pulling him to stop.

“Oh my- When is it not?” He groaned, his face scrunched up and scowling.

“I’m thinking about apologizing to him.” You blurted out, Cedric's face dropped into a serious stare, he paused for a moment before speaking.

“To Fred? Are you serious?” You nodded, still straight faced. “You are?” He asked again, looking at you like you were speaking another language.

“Yes! I have a plan! Hey- what’s so funny about that?” Cedric began to let out small laughs, now you were scowling.

“Oh I’m sorry, I just, you’re so deep in denial.” He said through chuckles, he actually found this humorous. “I’ve been waiting forever for this, I cannot wait til i see you two walking hand in hand in the hallways after this!” You gaped and gave him a shove.

“Hey! I still hate him! I absolutely do! I just…feel bad.” He raised his brows at you in disbelief, giving you a look that said Really? That's it?

“I’m scared that it could end badly if it doesn’t work out.” You admitted, shamefully looking down.

“End badly? Oh please, you already hate each other. How much worse could it get?”

Worse, it turns out.

You had a plan. The next time you saw Fred by himself. You would stop him, return his beanie back, and apologize. And, you would make it clear that you weren’t friends, that you still found him bloody annoying. You just didn’t want anything of his in your space.

Maybe it wasn’t the best plan, or the best way to apologize. It was also a bit weird carrying around his beanie in your bag everywhere you went. But, you didn’t know how much longer you could go having his belongings in your presence.

You didn’t know how much longer you could go with him ignoring your presence instead of bothering it.

You were able to stop him after you caught him wandering down an empty hallway. Honestly, you wanted to hide behind a pillar and let him walk past without noticing you. But, he couldn’t avoid you forever, neither could you.

“Fred?” You stepped out of your hiding place, he saw you but he didn’t show you any acknowledgement, continuing to walk with a stone cold expression.

“Fred, wait.” You called out, following after him, “Can you just stop avoiding me for a second?” You exclaimed. He drug his feet along the ground as he stopped, turning to you with his arms crossed.

“Stop avoiding you? Reckon that’s what you begged me to do the last time we talked.” He spat out, shaking his head.

“I didn’t beg-” You bit your tongue. Now's not the time for your defensiveness. This is not the time for an argument.

You reminded yourself that and took a deep breath and swallowing your anger. Fred let out a breath of annoyance as you composed yourself.

“I’m not here to apologize.” You blurted out, your plan was now abandoned. Fred's face scrunched up for a second in confusion, you rummaged through your bag hanging from your shoulder, “I’d just thought you’d want this back.” You pulled out his hat, holding it up in between the two of you, your eyes on the ground.

Though you didn’t dare to look straight at him, you could see his posture soften in your peripheral vision. Wanting to get this over with you shook it at him, signaling for him to take it.

“You didn’t have to stop me out here, you should’ve just left this on my bed or something..” He trailed off as he reached out one arm, keeping the other tucked around him as he snatched the hat from you awkwardly.

Both of you stood there in silence for a moment, Fred looking at his returned hat, you adjusting the strap on your bag.

“Uh, cheers.” He gave you a tight lipped smile, turning and walking back to his original direction.

Okay, maybe it hadn’t gotten worse than it already was between you two, but it was sure as hell awkward now.

“So you didn’t do what you said you were going to do?” Cedric stared at you, expressionless.

“I didn’t say I was going to do it, I said I was thinking about it.” You shrugged. Cedric fully sat up in a swift manner, jaw ajar and eyes narrowed as he stared.

“You said you had a plan!” He then cried out. Oh, so he was listening and not just laughing at you earlier.

“To give him his hat back! Not beg for forgiveness.” You huffed, slouching against the tree. “Besides, he never begged for mine all those times.”

Always a battle between you two, Cedric wanted to say, but he knew that’d only tick you off more.

“Yeah? And what’d he do instead?” Cedric questioned, it made you feel suspicious about what he had to say.

“He’d just go back to annoying me.” You shrugged, a bit hesitant since you could see the cogs turning in his head.

“So why don’t you?” Cedric suggested, “Why don’t you go and bother him like he always did to you?”

You opened your mouth, stammered out something unintelligible, and closed it. You had hit a wall, all this time you’ve worried about when Fred would acknowledge your presence, you weren’t doing anything to get him to acknowledge it.

You can’t say Cedric’s got a point. You won’t admit to that.

“Because I’m happy he doesn’t bother me anymore, I’m not going to put an end to that! I enjoy him leaving me alone!” You crossed your arms, putting up your wall of defense.

“No you don’t.” Cedric let out a breath through his nose, his face was stoic, unamused.

“I do!”

“You’ve complained about it a million times since he has!” He exclaimed. “Oh, Fred did this! Fred said that! Fred bothered me in class! Fred pissed me off a the ball! Fred won’t talk to me! Fred doesn’t like me!” He mimicked, gesturing wildly with his hands.

Fine, maybe you had mentioned how Fred was now avoiding you in the past two months. Maybe those mentions of it spiraled into rants, rants that Cedric had to listen all about.

You just shook your head doubtingly, Cedric sighed and moved over. He slapped a hand on your shoulder.

“I’ve only seen people care this much about another person, about what they’re doing, what they’re saying, unless they loved them.” He grabbed onto both shoulders, holding on in the way coaches do when giving their players a pep talk.

“I have been your bestfriend for six years now.” He shook you slightly with each word, putting an euphemism on them. “And I have never, never, seen you care so much about another person. Maybe, you should think about that.” He gave a sympathetic smile, the silence letting his words sink in.

Nope. You weren’t going to let it.

“Piss off! I am not in love with him!” You wriggled out of his grasp. Cedric grumbled.

“You should think about it!” He repeated, putting his hands up in defense.

The bell rung for the next class. Cedric stood up, giving you a brotherly pat on the shoulder.

“Tell me how it goes, when you're stuck with him in the Gryffindor section of the pitch.”

“Tell me how winning feels, I’ll let you rub it in my face. Good luck Ced.” You smiled.

“Good luck, Y/N.”

The third task began at dusk, the sun beginning to set and casting a golden glow on everything.

Now it was pitch black outside, Fleur had been pulled out early, and it felt like there were no signs of the task being won by the other three anytime soon. Your leg bounced wildly up and down in anticipation. Angelina and Katie noticed, you could see them staring in the corner of your eye.

“Something feels wrong, it’s been nearly three hours.” You spoke out, resting your head in hand.

“It’s a twenty-foot-tall maze, it’s gonna take a while for them to figure it out. Especially with your thick headed loverboy.” Fred blurted out, voice laced with mockery. You hated it, you were only stuck near him because Angelina and Katie were.

“Will you stop calling him that? You don’t have to be so rude all the time.” You said, exasperated already.

“That’s rich coming from you.” Fred muttered as he eyed you.

“It is a giant maze with whatever is in there. It might take a while.” Angelina said in a nicer way than Fred, budding into your and his blooming debacle.

“I know, I’m just worried that something might go wrong. Like, what if something messes up?” You gestured, biting your nail.

“He’s made it out of the past two just fine, I’m sure he’ll make it out of this one charming as ever.” Fred blurted, earning pointed glances from Angelina and Katie.

You tried to ignore your anxieties, trying to focus on whatever Katie and Angelina were chatting about. But your eyes kept darting back to Fleur on the sidelines, and Freds shitty attitude towards you wasn’t helping. Godric, is this how he felt all the times you’ve been pissy to him?

She looked terrified when she got pulled out, the tear stains on her face were obvious. You could see her rambling to the teachers about something, causing some of them to blink and give each other concerned glances.

She had seen something.

“What’d you think happened to her?” Katie took a look at Fleur, who was now surrounded by a group of girls clearly trying to comfort her.

“Don’t know. Maybe it was just too much for her.” Angelina shrugged, letting out a disappointed breath.

“She looks horrified.” You thought out loud. Eyes now locked on Fleurs face.

“I would be too. Battling dragons? Having to swim in the black lake? Going through a dark maze in the cold? Seeing all that, I’m a bit glad my name wasn’t picked.” Angelina muttered, leaning back.

“You’d have to pay me more than a thousand galleons and a dumb cup to get me to swim with ze Grindylows.” Katie nudged, mimicking Fleurs accent, earning a small breathy laugh out of Angelina and you.

Awhile after Fleurs return, a loud whoosh was heard, you got a glimpse of Cedric and Harry falling into the ground together.

The entire stadium shot up from their seats, including you. There was an uproar of cheer and the band playing the classic march.

“Did you see? It’s Harry and Cedric! They got back at the same time!” Angelina shouted, still clapping.

“Oh don’t tell me it’s gonna be another tie!” Katie groaned out. Fred and George pushed past the three of you, already excitedly running down to the field. Angelina grabbed onto your and Katie’s hands, creating a chain to follow them.

By the time you were hopping down onto the grass, a harrowing scream came from Fleur, she cupped a hand over her mouth and looked away.

Before you got to the front of the already forming crowd around the two champions, you could tell something was off.

None of Cedrics friends were cheering, neither were Harrys. Even the twins were dead still and staring.

As you got closer to the front of everyone, the music stopped and the noise of the crowd died down. Going from cheers to concerned whispers. You could hear the sobs of someone.

“No! He’s back! He’s back!” It was Harry. His voice was hoarse and heavy.

Pushing your way between the twins, now standing in front of them, you could see what was going on.

“He’s dead!” Harry cried, clutching onto Cedric’s limp body when the teachers tried to pull him off.

Time felt slow, stopped, frozen. You didn’t cry, you didn’t scream, all you did was stare. Feet stuck to the ground, and it felt like the only thing you could do was watch with wide, terrified, and glossy eyes as Harry grasped onto your bestfriends body, sobbing over him.

“Diggory's dead!” A horrified voice from the stands yelled, causing the entire pitch to fill with gasps and more whispers.

Soon the sight took hold of you. The scratches and blood smudged around Cedric’s pale face, his wide open yet lifeless eyes, his body having no reaction to being shook and held onto.

He was dead. Cedric Diggory was dead. The boy you grew up with, the boy who you saw as blood, the boy who was your bestfriend, was dead.

Taking in a shaky breath and blinking away the tears that had formed in your eyes, you attempted to step back, stumbling a bit and bumping into Fred’s chest.

“Oh shit,” Fred looked down at you, noticing the stray tears that had fallen from your eyes, “Oh shit, don’t look. Don’t look.” He grabbed onto you. You unconsciously yet willingly turned your body to his, allowing him to wrap his arms around you, attempting to prevent you from staring at the sight in front of you any longer.

“Don’t look.” He repeated.

Everything after the night of the third task felt foggy. It was a blur. Hell, it was a blur since then.

Classes were canceled for the next few days. Most days blended into each other, even when classes resumed normally. It was all foggy.

Most days you weren’t focused on anything. Stuck in a weird state of dissociation. Everything felt static.

You didn't remember a word Dumbledore said at Cedric’s memorial in the Great Hall. You didn’t cry with the others, you just sat and stared.

Even though you were usually in a daze, you still noticed things. You heard what people would talk about. You had ears, you could still hear.

“I’m worried about her. I haven’t seen her cry or…do anything really.” Katie whispered to Katie once you got up from the table.

“I know. I mean, we all have our own ways of grieving, maybe this is just hers?” Angelina leaned over.

Of course your friends tried to talk to you, not about what happened. But have regular chats, though you didn’t add much to the conversation, single worded responses or a short sentence.

On the nights you couldn’t sleep, you sat in the common room. Usually staying there until you went back to your bed, staying awake and sleep deprived the next day until you fell asleep where you were sitting in the common room.

“Hold on, shhh.” Fred stopped George as they snuck back into the common room, returning from another late night run to Zonkos. Fred pointed you to, knocked out on the leather chair.

“Should we wake her up?” George whispered, looking over at your curled up position and closed eyes.

“No, let her sleep, she needs it. I don’t think I’ve seen her actually go to bed in days.”

You noticed the faces you got from others when you walked by.

Pitiful glances. Sympathetic smiles. Apologetic looks. You noticed it all. You hated it. You hated being reminded of it. You hated feeling this way.

A shell of yourself is what you felt like. When you walked through the halls you felt like you carried the same presence as one of the ghosts in the castle.

It’s been nearly two weeks since Cedric passed and you still found yourself doing things you normally did with Cedric.

Stopping in the hallway after McGonagall's class in hopes to talk with him before he went in. Skimming your eyes around the Hufflepuff table looking for him. Waiting in the Courtyard after the school day for him to stop by and chat.

It was strange. It was like your brain hadn’t processed that he was gone.

You often wandered around, going on walks to clear your mind, even though it never worked. You found new places to sit and hide at.

Tonight, it was the Astronomy Tower. Rarely anyone came up there this late, the cool wind on your face helped ground you, and you had a pretty damn good view of the starry sky. You’d get in trouble if you were caught out here, especially with the strict rules they enforced for the rest of the year after what happened at the tournament.

You sat against the planet structure in the middle of the tower, your back against the hard marble while you brought your legs up to your chest, resting your head on your knees and wrapping your arms around yourself.

Swaying yourself gently side to side, you stared at the sky, almost not catching the quick footsteps coming up the stairwell.

Fred appeared.

Fuck. Why is he here?

“Hey.” He greeted quietly, putting his hands in his front pockets once he felt the cold air hit them. “It’s pretty cold out here.”

You stared at him for a second, a bit confused on many things. He gave you an awkward smile.

“So, what’re you up to?” He rocked back and forth on his heels.

“Why are you here Fred?” You unraveled from your position. Your tone wasn’t mean, it wasn’t snarky or sarcastic, it was sad. Defeated. Fred noticed.

“I was looking for you.” He unraveled, “I was worried. Katie told me you weren’t in your bed or the common room. Her and Angelina were freaking out looking for you, they thought you might’ve…done something.” He mumbled the last few words.

You only stared at him for a few seconds through lidded eyes, an unamused look on your face.

“I'm not up here to throw myself off the astronomy tower, if that’s what you assumed.” You muttered, turning your gaze back to in front of you.

“No! No! Not at all! I didn’t assume that.” Fred squeaked, trying to defend himself, “I was just a bit concerned, is all.”

“Since when do you care?” You muttered, only paying attention to his last sentence. Fred spent the last two months hating you, but oh, now your bestfriend is dead and of course he feels guilty for being so mean.

“I just…I’m worr- a lot of us are worried about you.”

“You should be worried about Cho, I know I am. She’s doing worse than me.” You huffed, you weren’t trying to sound mean, you were telling the truth. You knew Cedric's death was tearing the poor girl apart, she was his girlfriend for Godrics sake.

“Yeah, she’s driving herself mad.” Fred tried to joke as he looked down, but failed. “She’s worried about you too though.” He said softly. You let out a small hum, picking at your pajama pants.

The both of you stayed there for a good few seconds, maybe a minute, silent and awkwardly keeping your eyes away from each other.

You took in a sharp breath, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know what to do.” You looked over to him, “What am I supposed to do? With everything?” Your voice cracked a tiny bit and it made you cringe. Did Fred know how to handle grief? Probably not, but he knew what you were asking.

“I don’t know.” Fred's voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. You clenched your jaw to try and keep from crying.

Giving him a nod and tight-lipped smile at his response, you bit the inside of your cheek and turned your head away when a few stray tears fell.

This is the first time you’ve cried since Cedric’s death.

It was horrible. You hated that you were crying, and that Fred was there to see you so vulnerable, or that he was talking to you, but you didn’t think it mattered during that moment, you just needed comfort. You would really take any comfort too at this point.

“Can I sit?” He nodded to the empty spot next to you.

“I don’t care anymore.” You shook your head and shrugged weakly.

Fred walked over and sat a comfortable yet close distance next to you, his long legs bending at the knees.

“Can I ask you a question?” Fred played with a loose thread on his sweater, likely knitted by his mum.

“Sure.” You didn’t have the energy in you to say no, or be snippy towards him, you felt exhausted.

“Were you in love with Cedric?” Fred looked at you. You rolled your eyes and scoffed, a small bit of hope bloomed in Fred’s chest, he’d gotten a classic reaction out of you. You hadn’t become a shell of yourself, you were still you.

“No.” You let out a small, humorless laugh. “I know everyone thinks that. But I wasn’t. He was a brother more than anything.” Fred wanted to let you know not everyone thought that, mainly just him, he was just curious.

“He was too in love with himself,” You joked, “Always so cocky.” Fred noticed the way the ends of your mouth slightly curled up as you shook your head.

“Yeah? I always knew he was too thick headed for his own good. He’d probably use the reflection of the cup as a mirror.” He breathed out, a lighthearted attempt to make you laugh. It worked, somewhat. A slight smile appeared on your face as you let out small bits of laughter.

“I’m serious, Lee told me that he caught him posing in the sink mirrors in the prefects bathroom!” Fred began to laugh with you, as you laughed even harder, your body bending forward a bit due to it.

This is the first time he’s ever made you laugh.

His laughter was mostly confused. He was puzzled at how you could find that to be this funny, until your weak chuckles turned into strong sobs. You broke. Crying into your hands.

Fred wasn’t sure what to do at this moment. His way of comforting was humor, and it worked, but not the way he expected it to. So, he just hugged you, he actually hugged you.

He closed the small gap between your bodies and wrapped two long arms around you. And you let him. You didn’t hug him back, you just sobbed, letting your heavy limbs fall and lean yourself into him.

He had one arm wrapped around you, holding you tightly while the other was brushing his hand over your hair.

It was strange, you didn’t care that Fred Weasley was hugging you, holding you. You didn’t try to shove him off, or break out of his grasp, you were too exhausted to protest.

Instead, you shifted into a position where you could grasp onto him, you wrapped your arms around his lanky torso, crying into his chest, letting out heavy sobs that wracked your entire body.

You said his name through a sharp breath, Fred cupped your face with both hands as you brought your head up to look at him.

“Fred, I’m sorry.” You broke down again, “I’m so sorry.” You said through sobs.

“Shh, it’s alright. Save all that for later. It’s alright.” He shushed you, pulling you back into your cradling position again.

If you told yourself from just a few months ago that this was happening. You would’ve never believed it. You would’ve never thought it’d be a real moment between you two.

But tonight, it was, it was real, it was happening, you were crying on the top of the astronomy tower while Fred Weasley, out of all people, held you.

You tried to apologize, and you sobbed into his chest while Fred Weasley, raked his fingers through your hair and held you.

tell me what you thought here! <3 or ask tba to the taglist for this series!

TAGLIST: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog@five-seconds-flat @nal-leo-17 @rhunew @albertdabuttler @weak-aesthetic @whotfskai @m00nymarauder @miaandthediamonds @hpstuff244444 @tarzanathetumblingwarrior @isabellavolere @navs-bhat @honeybee240 @pillowjj @df841 @siriusmarryme @ooopsiedaisy997 @imamexican @residentdemonhunter @ma1dita @b4tm4nn @anonymously-ominous @mistpx

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Lovers | Feysand X Freader

A/n; based off this request! Tysm for the request, I hope you enjoy! warnings; smut, lil bit of angst?, threesome, p in v, v in ur mouth 😍😍, cussing? Message me if I missed anything guys! Happy reading!

It had been 2 weeks since the night. You had stayed holed up in your apartment. You were embarrassed- or no ashamed? Confused? And bewildered by what had happened. Rhysand had invited you to Rita’s with the inner circle. You had went- enjoyed the night. And then it was time to leave. Everyone went their separate ways, except you. So you ended up on the couch beside Feyre and Rhys, drinking the tea she had made you.

“Thank you Feyre.” You whispered, grasping the hot tea she had made you. She smiled and nodded, keen eyes watching as you sipped on it. She sat down beside you again, closer this time, leaving you almost sandwiched between her and Rhys. You all sat in comfortable silence as you finished your tea. You hadn’t been drinking that night, as you didn’t feel like it. The drink was warm in your body. It relaxed you. You almost didn’t notice Rhysand’s wing brushing closer to your skin. You decided he hadn’t done it on purpose and ignored it. Until you turned your head to Feyre, and her lips were smashing against yours. She was kissing you. Her lips tasted of cherries. She chopped your face gently but firm. What was happening? You waited for Rhys to freak out but before you knew it, you felt his hand on your waist and thighs, his lips meeting your neck. Oh gods. What was happening?

And why did it feel so good? You melted into the kiss before jerking back, gasping for air. They both pulled back. Their eyes were glued to you. Your face was flushed slightly.

“Are you okay with this?” Rhysand purred behind you. You didn’t have time to think before you were nodding.

“Yeah.”

The night was magical. They certainly worked as a pair to make you cum more then once. And by the end of the night, hours later, you laid in their arms. And then in the morning you went home before they woke. You had no words. What were you suppose to say? You had shown them your most vulnerable side. Naked and pleading for them-

And now you didn’t know where any of you stood. You sighed internally. They probably were just trying something new and you were the easiest option. Easy. Easy.? Yeah. That was it. It was a one time fuck. You were just Feyre’s friend and Rhysand’s worker. Nothing more.

That thought shouldn’t of hurt, but it did. You weren’t anything. The urge to dissociate and never speak to them grew stronger. Run away and hide- but you could never escape from two beings so strong. Or would they even care if you left? They had eachother. They didn’t need you. You were a quick fuck.

A knock sounded on your door, distracting you from your thoughts. Who was here? You slowly slid from the bath, the water cold now. You threw on a shirt and made your way to the door. Cassian stood there.

“Hey!” He chirped loudly. His wings were flared slightly. He made note of your appearance. You seemed tired. And stressed.

“Hey Cas?” You said, raising an eyebrow. You leaned against the door frame. Why was he here?

“You haven’t been around in awhile! We were getting worried. You sick or something?” He pried. His eyes scanned your apartment behind you. It was a bit of a mess.

“Oh..yeah. Just haven’t been feeling well I guess.” You lied, knowing he would report back to Rhysand immediately. What we’re you suppose to say? ‘Oh I’m just sad and depressed because I fucked your high lord and high lady!’ Definitely not.

Cassian’s eyebrows furrowed. You did look sick. Your scent was weird too. Whatever you were, it wasn’t happy and healthy. “Have you seen a doctor?” He asked.

“No? I’m fine.” You said, wanting him to leave. He bristled slightly.

“Y/n-“

“I’m fine.” You growled. He sighed. He nodded.

“Okay.” And then he was gone. You felt bad, but you didn’t want to be around anyone right now.

Not even an hour passed before banging at your door started. What the fuck? You quickly approached the door and slammed it open. Before you could get any words out, hands were on your face, inspecting you. Rhysand.

“You’re sick.” He stated. he brushed your hair from your face, holding a hand to your forehead. Cassian snitched. The little fucker. You pulled away harshly, taking a step back.

“I’m fine.” You said for what felt like the millionth time today. He stepped forward with you, eyes narrowed. They searched over you, looking for injuries. He looked back to you. He sniffed the air.

“You smell weird.” He commented. You rolled your eyes.

“Wow thanks.” You said sarcastically. You turned around and walked back into your apartment hoping he’d get the hint and leave. He followed you in. He looked around the apartment.

“Maybe it’s this shithole. The air is musty around here, you should come live in one of our houses.” He purred with a smirk.

“No.”

His smirk dropped. He approached where you stood in the kitchen, his wings crowding the space as he stood behind you. He observed your cooking. “Cauldron. Being sick makes you cranky.” He teased. “If you were sick you should’ve told me. You could’ve come and let me and Feyre care for you.”

You tensed. What was he playing? You focused on the pot of your favorite comfort food. You stepped closer to the stove rather then being near him.

“I’m not sick.” You mumbled, wanting him to leave.

“Hm? Then why do you smell rotten?”

You flinched at his words. You turned around facing him. He was so tall. “Unless you came here for something else other then insulting me with every sentence, I suggest you leave.” You threatened. His eyes widened. His wings spread.

“You’re coming with me.” He declared suddenly. It was your turn to be shocked. “I suggest you start packing.”

Rhysand didn’t give you a choice, joining you in packing a few of your clothes. Why was he doing this?

You currently sat on a couch. The same couch where feyre ate you out. Where Rhysand fingered you. You shook the nasty thoughts away. Easy. You where just an easy fuck. Nothing more. You reminded yourself. Still- you felt a small growing heat in your body.

Feyre and Rhysand sat in front of you on the opposite couch. This was awkward.

“You have two options.” Feyre started.

“You can tell us what’s wrong and why you haven’t gone to a doctor, or you can let us call Madja.” Rhysand finished.

You groaned out loud. “For the last time! I’m fine. I’m not sick.”

Feyre opened her mouth to point out your scent. Rhysand stopped her.

“Then whats wrong?” Rhysand inquired. They both stared at you with big expecting eyes. You definitely weren’t getting out of this.

“I lied. I didn’t want to have to go back to work.” You mumbled. This was humiliating. Feyre quirked a brow. You weren’t the type that was lazy. You always showed up. You were a medicine specialist, and a healer. And also the best poison artist. Everyone in the inner circle loved you so much that you eventually just started being apart of it. And for you not to show up, meant something was wrong. Was it someone? No. You still smelled unhealthy.

“Explain.” Rhysand demanded, adjusting his position.

“I didn’t wanna be around you.” You stated. They both flinched and looked to each other.

“Is this about that night?” Feyre questioned. You stayed silent, not wanting to answer.

“Damnit Rhys I knew we made a mistake not checking in sooner.” Feyre growled quietly. Rhysand sighed, nodding in agreement.

“What?” You asked. What did she mean?

“We’re sorry we didn’t come and check up on you-“ Rhysand started. He sighed again. “I thought it would be best to give you space and let you process things.”

“Process? Process what? It was sex. That was it.” You barked.

Both of their faces dropped. “Just sex..?” Rhysand questioned. Feyre turned back to you. “It wasn’t just sex.” She growled challenging.

The room went silent. Feyre rubbed her temples. Rhysand stood abruptly. You looked up at him as he stepped closer.

“Love. It wasn’t ‘just sex.’ At least, not to us. It was much more. We both have liked, no loved, you for awhile. Ever since you joined the night court. We thought us making love to you made our intentions clear. When you disappeared we assumed you needed space to adjust to having two mates.” Rhysand spoke softly, crouching in front of you.

Oh. Oh. “Mates?!” You whispered. He nodded. Oh mother. Two mates? They were your mates. Your fucking mates. A sense of panic filled your system. They were making love to you and you thought they were just fucking you. Of course you had a small crush on them. Who wouldn’t? But you never saw it going anywhere. But now? Mates. Mates.

You couldn’t help but warm, remembering the night. Remembering had originally made you feel embarrassed. But now? You remembered how gentle and loving they were. The way Rhys pumped himself gently into you, kissing at your neck, with feyre suckling on your swollen clit. Your face heated up at the memory. Talons caressed your mind gently. You quickly shook the thought away, embarrassed at the wet feeling in your panties.

A hand rubbed your knee. Feyre. She was now beside you both. “It’s okay, love. We know it’s a lot to process. But don’t lie about being sick again. It had us worried.” She motioned to your bags beside the couch. Her voice was slightly scolding.

“I..” you paused. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to. Let us in.” Rhysand murmured, two sets of talons gently scratching your mind barriers. You let the barriers down. You felt them both crowding in your mind, searching and going over all your thoughts the pass two weeks. Trying asses how you feel. You felt embarrassed.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of darling.” Feyre **purred in your mind. They looked to each other when they were done.

Rhysand’s hand slowly went higher on your leg. His hand approaching your inner thigh. You squeezed them together instinctively. He smirked.

“You’re not easy. You’re not an experiment. You’re are mate.” He said, loud and clear. Feyre nodded, moving to sit beside you. She brushed your hair behind your ear.

You nodded. “And we can take our time. We don’t have to rush into this. But please, don’t distant yourself away. We’ll wait days to years until your ready to accept our bond.” Feyre whispered.

I want to accept it now. You thought. They both smirked cheekily.

“Words, love.” Rhysand purred, his hands suddenly dipping under your skirt. You felt his fingers brush against your clothed pussy. An embarrassing loud wet noise sounded. His smile grew wider. Feyre snickered.

“I want to-“ you gasped as Feyre’s hands cupped your breast, teasing your nipple slightly. Rhysand took the opportunity to slip your panties aside and trail his fingers through your slick.

“Hm?” Feyre teased.

“I want to accept the bond- now-“ you whispered out, hand clutching at Rhys’s wrist. It did nothing to stop his finger entering your cunt. It was a stretch already. He was big. You only came up to Rhysand’s chest when standing in front of him, and naturally everything on his body was bigger. Feyre ate you out last time to help adjust your body to his cock.

“Good girl.” They said in your mind. The praise triggered a rush of heat to your body again. Feyre’s hands slowly unbuttoned your blouse. She leaned down and licked a stripe in between your breast. Her nails turned to claws as she effortlessly ripped away your bra. Your chest was bare now. Your nipples hardened to the cold air. She leaned down, sucking a nipple into her mouth. You moaned, clenching on Rhysand’s finger. ke knelt between your legs, taking his time in spreading you open. He added another finger.

“She’s so tight.” Rhysand groaned, watching as your cunt clenched down. It was making a lot of noise now. Feyre giggled against your chest, fondling the other.

“And sensitive.” She purred. She flicked your other nipple, causing you to cry out. It hurt, but it felt so good. Rhysand attempted easing another finger in.

“Relax baby, i won’t be able to stuff you full if I can’t get two fingers in.”

You took a deep breath, calming your body. Everything felt so hot. Your breath were coming out in short pants. Feyre moved away, causing you to whine. She giggled again, her claw scraping your head gently. Rhysand’s fingers slowly entered you, pressing against the right spot. A spot you knew your fingers couldn’t even reach. He suddenly jerked away, leaving you empty. You whimpered softly.

He smiled and started removing your skirt and panties. Your panties were soaked. He held on to them a little longer, taking his time in sniffing them lewdly. He set them aside. You were completely bare. They were still clothed. You felt vulnerable and weak around them. And for some reason that made you wetter. You were at their will.

Rhysand’s fingers entered again, setting a much faster pace this time. They pressed into your g-spot everytime they entered. You bit your lip, trying to contain your noises.

Feyre growled warningly, and leaning nipping your cheek. She caught your lips in a rough kiss, hand clasping at your jaw. Her tongue entered your mouth, exploring. It was so stimulating- it was hard to breath but you couldn’t care. Rhysand’s fingers pumping in you, and her tongue in your mouth. Rhysand’s tongue met your clit causing you to gasp. He kitten licked it a few times before pulling back. He was fingering you so aggressively. A third finger went in.

You moaned into Feyre’s mouth as her hand started toying with your breast again. A knot formed in your stomach. They weren’t even touching your clit and yet you were about to cum. Rhysand smirked knowingly. Feyre but your lip, and pulled away. She watched with piercing eyes.

“Look at your pretty pussy baby. It’s so wet. You’re soaking the couch.” She muttered, pulling your chin down to force you to look. Your wetness was all over his hands, practically drowning them. He was watching you. He pumped harder, enjoying the way your cunt squelched with each thrust of his hand. Your thighs clenched together, only his hands stopping them from closing completely. You were so close.

You yelled when his other hand came down against your clit, slapping it roughly. You didn’t have time to process it before you were squirting on his chest. His mouth immediately latched onto you, drinking in your juices greedily. You cried out, squirming, it was too much. Feyre watched with amazement.

“Awe. We have a squirter. You didn’t do that last time, sweetie.” She squealed. Rhysand moaned against your cunt, the vibrations making you whine. He pulled away, petting your inner thigh to soothe you.

“You didn’t have permission to cum yet. You disobeyed. And yet you came just from me slapping your clit. Such a needy slut for us.” He scolded, causing you to look away in embarrassment. You clenched around nothing.

“And she tastes so fucking good.” Rhysand said, swiping his fingers across your cunt before shoving them in Feyre’s mouth. Feyre moaned at the taste, slurping on his fingers loudly. You felt yourself grow wetter at the sight. Rhysand leaned up taking his fingers out and smashing his lips on hers. They made out aggressively, growling and nipping eachother’s lips. You moaned at the sight.

It snapped their attention to you. They broke off the kiss, eyes sliding to your body. Your beautiful body.

“C’mere” Feyre whispered, grabbing you gently and winnowing both you and Rhysand into their room. You landed in the bed. You watched as they undressed quickly, making their way to you. Rhysand approached and dragged you to the edge. He slotted himself in between your legs. His cock was hard and throbbing. It was massive. You wondered how you managed to take it last time. He smiled at your thoughts, petting your thigh softly. Feyre climbed on the bed, straddling your head. Her pussy was glistening and dripping wet.

“Open up darling.” She muttered, lowering herself onto your mouth. You quickly latched on, licking and slurping aggressively against her heat. She tasted so fucking good. Her hips rocked, slowly fucking your face. Her hands found your hair, holding you in place.

Rhysand ran a finger down your lips, watching as you squirmed. He was so hard. Painfully hard. He watched as you desperately slurped on Feyre’s cunt. Like a pathetic little puppy. God. He loved his two lovers so much. He playfully slapped your pussy again, making you whimper against her cunt.

“Shut up. You came without permission, so you don’t get a say in anything else.” Feyre reprimanded, pressing her hips down harder. She watched as you moaned helplessly. Her pussy dripped more juices.

Rhysand rubbed his throbbing tip up and down your slit, lubricating himself. His tongue ran over his lips.

You squeaked when Rhys shoved his long length in, it sliding easily in. It was a tight fit, and heat spread throughout your whole body. It felt like you were on fire. Feyre smirked and continued rutting her pussy on your face, watching as you mouth became a wet mess. She tasted like candy- and fuck it was good. You lapped helplessly on her clit. Rhys’ tip kissed your cervix, pushing. And then he started thrusting. His heavy balls slapped against your ass, creating wet noises.

You couldn’t help your broken moans, suckling on Feyre’s clit, and getting pounded roughly by Rhys. His hand rubbed your thigh, and his other flicked your clit a few times before rubbing it fast. You couldn’t do anything to stop him as you were overcome with an intense amount of pleasure. Feyre grasped your hair tighter, moaning loudly.

“Fuck- I’m gonna cum.” She groaned, watching as you whimpered and licked her desperately. She came in your mouth with a low feminine growl, claws scraping your hair. Her release filled your mouth, and you swallowed it obediently. She moved away, kissing you gently. A sharp contrast from her fucking your face. Rhysand pinched your clit, slamming his cock deeper into you. A familiar knot formed in your stomach, making you moan. His hand moved from your thigh, rising to your stomach where he bulged. He was so deep. He pressed onto it roughly, watching as your back arched.“Stupid slut- you enjoy this so much don’t you? Getting fucked by your two mates. Look how deep I am. Gonna fill this tight little cunt up.” Rhysand stuttered out, his moans filling the room. Feyre moved, letting you see the bulge in your stomach that formed with every thrust up. Holy fuck. His other hand started roughly rubbing your clit.

“No-“ you whined out. It was too much. “Can’t!” Rhysand leaned forward, knocking you in a mating press. His hips snapped roughly into yours. He gently kissed you and leaned over to kiss feyre, ignoring your cries. He only went faster, not listening. He pulled away from Feyre. “Rhys- please-“ You screamed. And then the knot snapped, your body shaking vigorously as you came on his dick.

And he didn’t stop. His hips snapped aggressively, heavy balls full of cum. He snickered as you tried squirming away.

“Where you goin’ baby? Not done yet- gonna stuff this pussy full of cum. You want that right?” He purred, lifting your legs on his shoulders. He gently kissed your ankle. Feyre leaned and started biting and nipping your chest. It was too much.

“Y-yes!” You yelled, feeling dumb fucked. His cock dragged along your walls, aggressively hitting the spot that made your toes curl. Your moans came out in broken chants of their names, your eyes rolling in the back of your head.

“Oh cauldron- gonna cum.” He whimpered out, flicking your clit wildly. His cock slammed in one more time, stilling and releasing ropes of hot cum. The feeling brought you to your next release.

The room filled with pants and the smell of sex. Feyre’s hand gently rubbed your stomach, soothing you. She released your nipple and grinned happily. She brushed back a piece of sweaty hair.

“So cute..” she praised. She kissed your cheek. Rhysand slowly pulled out. He patted your thigh gently.

“Did so good baby.” He praised too. Everything was hazy, and spinning. You were blissed out. He smiled and tapped your face a few times.

“You with us?” He muttered. You nodded. He leaned back and slid a finger in your cunt, causing you to gasp. He pulled it out, stringing your juices and his cum. He smirked and licked it off of his finger.

“Ready?” Feyre asked.

“What?” You questioned.

“Oh cmon on. You didn’t seriously think we were done with our little cum dump yet did you?” She laughed. Rhysand grabbed your hips, flipped you around and pulled your ass high in the air. He leaned down and licked a stripe up your cunt.

“No. We’re far from done.” Your mate whispered, diving in.

[harrystylesfan2686]

Crush On Them

Pairing: Nessian x Reader

Summary: When your small crush ends you up with you in their bed. MDNI

Warnings: Little smut with plot. A little fluff.

A/N: There isn't enough Nessian on this app😤 also first time writing smut please forgive any mistakes and tell me your thoughts😁

Masterlist

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You had always liked Cassian, from the moment the two of you met. Your crush was so obvious to everyone around you, it was like watching a lost puppy follow it's master. Everywhere Cassian went you were there, no matter where or what time. You would somehow always find yourself seeking Cassian's attention. You love having his eyes on you all the time, and you thought he did too.

But then Nesta came along.

She walked around with so much anger and hate towards everyone, you worried she would get in serious trouble because of her snappy mouth. Little did you know, she managed to pull off Cassian.

You were jealous as hell at the starting few months. But when they accepted their mating bond, the one you couldn't ever guess they had, all that jealousy and anger had dissolved in a pool of sadness.

You distant yourself after that.

Gave them the privacy they should have. After all who would want anyone lingering around them when their newly found mate was standing with them. It was very hard considering you lived in house of wind. The mating frenzy was disastrous. And the noises, gods, you would scratch out you ears if you could.

There were so many moments where you wondered if you wanted to be them, or be with them. Like the one morning while training, you and Azriel sparred while the newly mated took each other. In the small one minute you took to drink water, you nearly chocked to death, catching a glimpse of Cassian and Nesta.

The smooth and sweaty skin of Cassian not wearing any shirt, shining glitters thanks to the early morning rays, looked so good. Nesta, too, the fighting leathers hugged her body in all the right places. The slight smirk on both of their faces as they attacked and defenced each others moves with persistence. That was the first time you looked at Nesta, not with envy but admiration.

There were a lot of times where you thought maybe they want you too. Like the time you were shit drunk, coming back from Rita's.

You didn't realize how much you drank until you couldn't see straight. Cassian and Mor being the only ones there were to bring you back home but Mor having disappeared with someone, Cassian was left with the responsibility of taking you home.

"Where is Nesta, Cass?" The pout on your face seemed permanent for the night as he flyed to your house.

"Nesta's out with Gwen and Emerie for the night, remember?" His smile at your state seemed permanent too.

"Right! She told me about that!" You giggle to yourself. You were still babbling nonsense as he lands on the roof, walking to your bedroom with you still in his arms, not trusting yourself to walk without face planting on the floor.

"Alright, sweetheart. You should go to sleep now." He layes you down on the bed and gently removes you shoes and jewelry. Tucking you in, stilling smiling at you as you hum in comfort.

You don't remember much from the night but clearing remember his lips kissing you to sleep, lingering near your mouth as slumber pulls you in completly.

Or like the time you accidentally cut your finger while attempting to make dinner.

You hissed in pain, throwing down the knife to look at your first finger. You were so distracted by the smell from Nesta that reeked sex while walking into kitchen for a glass of water. She was at your side in a second, taking your hand with gentleness and aspecting the small cut that now bled red. Her lips thinned and eyes furrow just a little as she looked at you with a hint of worry.

She didn't say anything but take you finger in her mouth. Your breath hitched as her tounge swept over the injury, licking away the blood, all while keeping her eyes on yours. She pulled away when the cut healed, her lips curling at the sight of your flushed face, eyes on her lips and breathing heavily.

She pulled back and walked out of the kitchen, leaving you red faced and with a shocking realization of your crush on the female.

These along with all the other confusing interaction that happened with the couple left you speechless, having no idea what to take of them. Your small crush somehow growed into full on love feelings. You have no idea when it happened but you had realized it one day while readying (more like trying to read) a book that you loved them.

It killed you knowing they didn't share the feelings and having to see them together, loving each other, having to hear them together, everyday. It's not like you can go to all day missions like Azriel to get away. No. You had to say hear and endure it all without doing anything that raised questions.

Little did you knew, they knew about it all long before you knew yourself.

On their side, Cassian and Nesta were doing everything they could to talk to you, look at you, have your attention all to themselves. They loved playing with you and making you blush over the slightest of touches. They were working with each other from the start, trying to get to you confess your feelings to any one of them.

They loved watching you try to not look at them, try to control your blushing expressions, control your arousal around them. They found it funny whenever you stutter while talking when they eye your figure, found it annoying when someone else grabs your attention from them even for mere seconds.

Why do you think they are so loud at night? To have you listen to them. To only have them on your mind at nights, thinking of all the ways they would please and pleasure you.

They loved this game so damn much.

Which is why when you walk in on them in the exposing position, they smirk at you instead of scolding you away as you thought they would, they let you watch.

Watch how their naked bodies blend together. How Nesta's back to Cassian's chest plush against one another. On they're knees with his one arm holding her upright while the other rubbing her sweet botton and hers in his hair, clucking on for dear life as he slams himself into her again and again and again.

The sight waters your mouth.

Gods, you knew they had good bodies but your imagination does not do justice to the real thing. You knew he had a big cock but not could never guess the actual girth, and her body, the lipstick speared mouth, the peachy nipples begging to be sucked on, and her thighs...

You squeeze you thighs together as you look where they join, feeling yourself get so wet. The smell of sex heavy in the air and your hands form fists to keep from moving.

"Like watching us sweetheart?" Cassian's voice heard above the sweet little moans of Nesta. You nod once, not seeming to know what words are.

"Yeah? Wanna watch her cum for us?" You can hear the smirk in his voice. You nod again and he says,"Come here then, help me make her cum."

You swallow and move without thinking, kneeling in front of them on the bed, facing Nesta. Not knowing what to do, you look at him. "Come on, Y/N. Don't get shy on us now." His hips not stopping their blissful torture. You look into her eyes and lean forward, resting your hands on her waist and taking the pink bud of her breast into your mouth and suck.

Her moans coming out louder now, as Cassian grunts, enjoying the view of his girls. You take the other nipple between your fingers and pinch, and she cries out. Cassian letting go of her clit to hold her tighter for harder thrusts. Your other hand replacing his on her nub, moving in fast circles and you whisper, "Cum for us, Nesta."

She screams as her orgasm hits her, rocking her to her very core, harder then any she's had before. Cassian and you don't stop your movements, prolonging her pleasure. You only slow down when she whimpers, silently begging you to stop from overestimating her and Cassian pulls out of her heat.

Only deep heavy breaths sound in the room for a few seconds and she comes down from her high. You feel hard chest behind you at the same time Nesta grips your jaw, forcing your eyes on hers. Cassian's hands slid into your top, up to your breasts and Nesta orders.

"Now, your turn, sweetheart."

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[daydreaming-nerd]

Young Love and Old Money (Cassian x Female! Reader) Part 4

Young Love and Old Money Masterlist

AN: I wrote this hungover so you can just call me The Little Engine That Could

Summary: She was the most beautiful woman in Prythian, sister to the High Lord of Night, and now she is the soon-to-be wife of Eris Vanserra. Despite her many titles and her aura of unattainability, Cassian can't help but fall deeply in love with the princess of the Night Court. But will it be enough to stop her impending wedding to a man who is sure to destroy her from the inside out?

Warnings: Sexisim, trauma from under the mountain, alcohol, SA, blood

Word Count: 3,121

If Eris could see me right now he would surely detest my un-princess like behavior and call off our courtship promptly. In fact I might put ‘standing on a pile of books to reach the top of a bookshelf’ in my Eris repellent arsenal. 

Normally I would ask The House of Wind for assistance but I suppose that today it wanted to use me as entertainment. The large stack below me wobbled causing my stomach to flip as my fingertips brushed the edge of the leatherbound book I was just dying to read. I almost had it in my hand when my book stack teetered again causing me to gasp. 

“Woah there princess!” boomed a voice from the hall. “Get down, you're going to hurt yourself.” 

I turned my head to find Cassian clad in casual clothes, most likely about to turn in for the night. Seeing him in fighting leathers was deadly, but seeing him so domestic? It made my cheeks heat. My makeshift step stool wobbled again and I would’ve toppled over if it wasn’t for the general's hands grasping my hips and placing me on the ground. 

“Thanks,” I smile as my feet firmly hit the plush carpet. I can’t help but feel a little foolish.

“Which one did you want?” Cassian asked, scanning the shelf I was close to climbing. 

“Uh the red one, with the rose on the spine,” I reply pointing to it. 

He reached his arm up and plucked the book from the shelf with ease. Gods now I really did feel foolish. 

“Here you go,” he smiles, handing me the book. I take it from his grasp and for a moment his hand brushes mine sending shivers down my spine. In the 5 seconds I feel his skin I try to soak up all the warmth that it holds. Try to remember the sensation so I can replay it over and over again in my head when I go to bed. 

“Thank you,” I smile trying to avoid those hazel eyes.

“See now you’ve taught me to fetch too,” he jokes. 

I roll my eyes, “You’re never going to let me live that dog comment down are you?” I laugh. 

Cassian flashes me a smile that threatens to make my knees buckle before perusing the bookshelf himself. I take it as my queue to relax on the couch next to the roaring fire. Ever since that drunken night when I ran into him coming back from Rita’s I couldn’t shake the words he had said to me… I’d do anything for you y/n. I tried to forget the feeling of his hands on my hips, the warmth seeping through the silk of my nightgown. But no matter how hard I tried, the scene continued to replay in my head over and over again. 

Even now it was hard to read with him in the room. I tried to keep my eyes on the book I was reading, but even just watching him scan all the shelves was erotic. I watched as his fingers grazed over a few titles until he finally plucked one from its spot. He began to walk towards the door and before I could even think my words betray me. 

“Wait!” I call out and he stops in his tracks. I mentally curse myself. Now what’s your plan dipshit? 

“Do you need another book?” Cassian asks and I realize I’ve let him sit in silence for longer than I ought to. 

“Could you stay and read here? I know reading is typically an independent activity but…” My voice trails off and I try to decide whether or not to voice my next words. “I find it hard being alone as of late.”  

It was true. Whenever I had a moment alone my mind would wander to that interaction in the hallway… don’t marry him…and then it would wander to thoughts of Eris, that damned dream I kept having. 

“Of course I’ll stay,” he says, turning from the door. 

As long as you’ll let me, I’ll do anything for you princess…

Cassian walks over to where I sit on the couch, picks up my outstretched legs and places them on his lap so that he can sit down. His forearms rest on my shins as he flips open his book and I nearly gawk at how natural the movement is for him. 

“You don’t have to sit next to me, you know?” I laugh. “You can sit in one of the chairs over there if you want to.” I say nodding to a set of armchairs in the corner. 

“Yeah but this is the only seat close to the fire,” he replies. “Besides, those chairs aren’t very wing friendly.” 

My eyes look back to the chairs and realize that he’s right so I shrug my shoulders and turn my eyes to my book. It was hard to concentrate on reading with the feeling of my legs in his lap but as my eyes scan the page I can’t help but get lost in the story…

“So you have me alone, in your bedroom.” Sofie says. “Now what happens?” 

Alexander stalks towards her, looking her up and down. “Now I kiss you, and touch you, and make you mine in every way I possibly can.”

I feel my blood heat up and I avidly try not to let my toes curl knowing they are currently in Cassian’s lap. The scene progresses and I try not to look like I’m reading something so filthy in the presence of my general, which is near impossible. 

Cassian clears his throat and I yank my gaze up expecting to find him looking at me like a scorned parent. Instead I find him quietly reading his own book. His own very large, very heavy book. 

“That book is huge,” I point out and his gaze snaps to me. “What is it about?”

“It’s about war strategies,” he replies cooly. “I’ve read it before, but I like to brush up on it every now and then.” 

“That’s what you read in your spare time? War strategies?” I scoff. 

“Knowledge is power princess,” he smiles flipping through the pages of the abnormally large book. “I’m your general, don’t you want me reading this kind of thing?” 

“I want you to read what makes you happy, especially when it’s for pleasure.” I laugh, shaking my head.  

“Well then you’ll be glad to know that reading war books makes me happy,” he muses at me. 

I shake my head and return to my own book, getting caught up in the heat of the scene once more. 

“What are you reading princess?” Cassian chides knowingly. 

“Oh nothing,” I say, pulling the book closer to my chest in a way that definitely could’ve been more subtle.

“Really because it looked like you were riveted a few moments ago,” he smirks, leaning over to try and see the title. 

“Well it’s a good book!” I squeak, pulling the book back further so he can’t see it.

“Why are you hiding?” Cassian laughs. “Afraid I’ll judge your literary tastes?”

“Yes actually I am,” I laugh pulling the book away from his hand as he tries to pluck it from my fingers. 

“Oh c’mon princess I showed you mine now show me yours,” he teases. One of his hands clamps down on my ankle so I can’t shift away anymore while the other snatches the book from my hands. 

“Cassian!” I protest as he moves the novel to his other hand that’s hanging off the arm of the couch. 

“As he kissed her feverishly his hands ran down her bare breasts, leaving goosebumps over the skin they touched.” Cassian read from the book. “This isn’t very lady like reading material princess!” he teases me. 

In a panic I climb over his lap to try and get the book back but he pulls it even further away. 

“Alexander's fingers traveled lower to her awaiting-” Cassian laughed before I finally grabbed the book from his hands. 

“I’ll take that!” I said snapping the book closed. 

It wasn’t until the book was safely in my possession once more that I realized the compromising position I was in… I was on his lap. I was sitting on my general's lap. I quickly scooted over to the side to sit next to him once more trying to hide the blush in my cheeks. 

“Who knew you had a secret romantic side?” Cassian teases with a sly smirk. 

“Yeah yeah, you found me out! Now go back to reading your book about stabbing people!” I brush him off with a laugh.

We spend the rest of the evening reading our respective books, this time without any interruptions. At first it’s nearly impossible to read while he’s right next to me, especially given the content of said book. But after a while I fall into a comfortable silence with the general, stealing glances at him whenever I can. At some point in the night, though I can’t pinpoint when, my eyes grow heavy and I fall asleep, one of the most peaceful rests I’d had in a while.  

Cassian: 

I’d be lying if I didn’t say the content of the princess’ book didn’t both shock and intrigue me. So much so that I couldn’t help but glance her way every once in a while just to see her little hands gripping the pages like her life depended on it. 

Even though she was just sitting there reading, she was so undeniably gorgeous. No wonder her beauty had been built up to the point where she was practically a character from mythology.  I almost cursed myself for admiring her too much, clearly just becoming another wide eyed male desperately seeking the princess’ attention. I recalled how Helion practically begged Rhysand for her hand, not to mention the other lords. Gods I really was just one of many when, and even more depressing, the least worthy of her affections.

At one point I glanced over to find her fast asleep with her book resting on her chest. I thought about leaving to go to my room or carrying her to bed. But she was so peaceful. More peaceful in this moment than I had seen in the past few weeks. I would kill anyone who dared pull her from that peace, and that meant myself as well. So I set down my book and let myself sink further into the couch. 

I had never slept in the library before, but there’s a first time for everything.  

Cassian:

“You’re even slower today than you were yesterday brother,” Azriel barked, swinging his sword towards me. I blocked with my own, the sound of metal on metal reverberating throughout the air. “Let me guess, another bad night of sleep?” 

“I slept fine!” I grumble going in for the attack, he blocks me with ease. 

“Are you sure? When I saw you asleep on the couch with the princess this morning you didn’t look too comfortable.” he smirked. The words caught me so off guard I missed my block and his sword sliced the back of my shoulder. 

“Ahh,” I hissed at the cut. 

“Sorry I thought you were gonna block that,” Azriel laughs. 

“I’m fine,” I say, shrugging off the small cut. “Let’s go again.” 

“Actually let’s call it, Rhys needs me on the border to check on things with Hybern,” Az replies, putting his sword over with the others. 

I do the same and go to take off the wraps around my hands. I can’t help but notice the scars and calluses all over them from years of battle and war. Clearly hands unfit to be anywhere near the princess. 

“How does the autumn court fare?” Azriel asks, pulling me from my thoughts. 

“Still full of the most pompous asses in Prythian,” I roll my eyes. 

“Good to see things haven’t changed,” Az laughs. “Does y/n seem to be warming up to Eris?” 

My head immediately goes to that dark hallway. How she screamed for him to get off her. I’ll never unsee the fear in her eyes. 

“No, she can’t stand him. But he seems to be warming up to her just fine,” I say trying not to sound as bristled as I am. 

“Uh oh,” Azriel said, catching my tone. 

“He was going to rape her the other day, I had to intervine.” I huff tossing away what’s left of my wraps a little harsher than I normally would.

“Are you serious? Why haven’t you told Rhys?” Azriel asks, his tone changing. 

“She won’t let me, she's determined to see this thing through, for us, for her people.” I explain trying to stay calm. 

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see this coming,” Azriel says. “When she became this almost mythical being I knew that she would be a conquest. Especially for males like Eris. If he chooses to marry her it won’t be because he loves her. He just wants to say that he owns The Jewel.”

“You think I don’t know that?” I scoff at my brother. 

“She deserves someone who loves her for her. Someone who sees her as more than The Jewel. Someone who has a big heart. Someone who makes her laugh. Someone that teaches her how to play drinking games,” Azriel went on and I knew exactly what he was getting at. 

“Nice try Az, but it’s never going to happen,” I huff walking towards the door 

“You wouldn’t know, you haven’t asked her!” he shouts at me. 

I shake my head at my brother's persistence as I make my way inside the House of Wind. For what it’s worth, I should be flattered that he think’s the princess could ever love someone like me. But I don’t feel flattered, I feel like a joke. The kind that might be passed around by other men at taverns for years to come. 

“Have you ever heard the story of the bastard general and the beautiful princess?”

“The poor fool fell in love with her and she turned him down flat!”

Gods I could hear the crowds of drunken fools laughing at the tale right now. 

The kitchen in the House of Wind always seemed like the most alive part of the house and the part of the house I had always ventured to least. Meals always seemed to appear whenever they were required, leaving no reason to darken the kitchen's doorstep. However, while the cut on the back of my shoulder didn’t hurt, the last thing I needed was an infection. Which is how I found myself rummaging through doors and cabinets for the first aid kit.

“You’re bleeding.” said that beautiful voice cutting through the air like a siren's song. I swore then and there I’d follow it to whatever end. 

I turned to find the princess, standing in the doorway clutching that red leather book from last night. I don’t miss her eyes glancing over my half naked body and it takes everything in me not to bear a self satisfied smirk.

“It’s just a scratch from sparring with Az,” I reply, trying to look over my shoulder to see the state of the cut. 

“Here, let me help you,” she said, turning to the drawer nearest to her and pulling out the first aid kit. 

“Don’t worry I can do it,” I assure her, the idea of her dirtying her hands by touching me makes me cringe. 

“It’s on your back you won’t be able to reach it,” she answers, laying out the things from the kit. 

“Princess you really don’t have-” 

“Shh, think of it as me repaying you for fetching that book for me last night,” she says with a playful glint in her eye. 

I smile remembering everything from me teasing her about the dog comment to the sight of her reading that dirty book. I turn around so she can see the small cut. 

“Do you think you could sit down? It’ll be easier for me to reach.” she asked me. 

“Yes sorry,” I replied sitting down. 

My skin practically buzzes from anticipation, knowing I’ll feel the gentleness of her hands at any  moment.  I suddenly feel like an adolescent male again, excited at the idea of having a female hug me. The second the warm washcloth is pulled away from the cut it’s replaced by her hands smoothing a healing balm over it. I flinch at the chill of her fingers on my bare skin. 

“Sorry my hands are cold,” she apologizes. I almost laugh, her hands are nothing but perfect. All of her is. 

“No it’s okay,” I say back trying to keep my voice even. I feel her smooth a bandage over the cut and the second she removes her hands from my skin I contemplate begging her to touch me once more. 

“All patched up!” she cheers, already beginning to pick up the supplies. 

“Thank gods I thought they were going to have to amputate,” I laugh standing up and flexing my shoulder back and forth to get used to the feeling of the wrapping.

“We can’t have that. How would you dance at the Vanserra’s ball tomorrow night?” she jokes putting the kit back in the drawer. 

“Ah yes, I forgot that’s tomorrow,” I say. In truth I had been counting down the days leading up to the dreaded event.

“You are coming right?” she asks and I can sense a bit of worry behind her words.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss it,” I assure her. 

“Good, it’ll be nice to have a familiar face there,” she smiles. “Who knows, maybe they’ll bring out that wine they had at dinner.”

“They better, there’s no way I can stand being in a room full of pompous assholes that long sober!” I laugh.  

“Tell me about it, I’ll have to dance with Eris all night,” she says, rolling her eyes. The image of her in his arms is enough to make my blood boil. 

“Who knows princess, maybe you’ll be surprised at your surplus of dance partners,” I smirk knowingly. 

“I’m sure Eris will beat them all off with a stick,” she huffs leaning against the table, picking at her nails. 

“Then he should talk to Rhys first and get a few pointers,”  I laughed leaning against the table next to her. 

"Or better yet, maybe I'll bring a stick to fend them off myself," she quips, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

With a shared laugh, we lingered in the moment, finding solace in each other's company before the looming specter of tomorrow's ball cast its shadow over us once more.

Part 5

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