#mor

[potatoplace]

Heaven

Poly+SJM Week 2025: Day 3 | @polysjmweek

Morsta x Reader

Poly!ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist | Event Masterlist

Summary: You've been sent to the Continent to negotiate trade deals for the Night Court, with Nesta and Mor as your companions. You struggle to find lodgings for the night, and when you do, it's a room with one bed, just large enough to fit the three of you on.

Warnings: smut, slight bickering between Nesta and Mor

Words: ~3.8k

Author's Note: ohhh boy I did not really except this to get smutty (idk WHAT I was thinking, it's ONE BED??) but here we are. I cut it off cause it was getting too long and I wanted to get it out on time lol. I hope you like it! I loooove this pairing so muuuch it's perfect, I love my girls 🥹 read it on AO3!

18+ only pls

🤍❤️🤍🩶🤍

You were exhausted, and had long since grown silent, while your companions had become louder and more irate, sniping at each other whenever the opportunity presented itself.

The day had started out pleasant enough, with Mor winnowing you and Nesta to the Continent. Rhys had sent the three of you to smooth out the kinks in a few trade deals that had popped up, and you had landed in the largest port city on the western coast, Torva, around eleven. Since arriving, you had spent twelve hours in meeting after meeting, barely having a chance to scarf down a small dinner.

And now?

Now you had been wandering around the city for an hour, stopping at every inn to find rooms for the night. Nesta had stopped going inside after the fifth one, instead waiting outside for the news, a curse leaving her lips with each time you and Mor returned, empty handed.

“Maybe we’ll sleep in the streets,” Nesta groaned as the three of you began walking, the next inn looking to be a few buildings down. “Just what was Rhysand thinking, not preparing lodgings for us?”

Mor rolled her eyes before replying, “He was thinking that we would be done before dinner time, the stupid twat.”

“Twat is right,” Nesta grumbled as Mor pulled open the door of the last inn on this street, and you gave Nesta a tight smile before following her inside, hoping with all your heart that this would be the inn to have something available for the three of you.

You didn’t know how much more of their bickering you could take.

“Hello, how can I help you?” The fae at the counter asked as you and Mor approached, Mor’s elbows landing on the counter as she sighed loudly.

“We’re hoping that you have three rooms available? Though at this point, we’d take anything that you have,” Mor said, doing a good job of keeping her exhaustion and irritation out of her voice.

“I’m sorry, we don’t have three rooms, but we do have one room with a large bed,” the female said hesitantly, her nervous eyes flicking between the two of you. “Will that be alright?”

You bit your lip and exchanged a look with Mor. “I’ll go talk to Nesta,” you said reluctantly when Mor showed no signs of moving. The door swung open with a slight creak and you rejoined Nesta, her eyes trained on the night sky above you. “So…” you started. “They only have one room available, and its only got one bed. Will that be… okay?”

Nesta inhaled sharply before training her silver eyes on you. “I suppose… It will be better than sleeping outside, at the least.”

You nodded in agreement before opening the door once more, Nesta following closely behind you this time, and you both rejoined Mor at the counter, who had been engaging in polite small talk with the other fae.

“We’ll take the room,” Nesta said with authority, the clerk nodding a moment later before handing over a key, taking the small pouch of coins that Mor handed her in exchange.

“Very well, if you ladies would follow me,” she said, stepping out from behind the counter and leading the three of you up the stairs, down a hallway, took a right, and three door down she stopped before a door, stepping aside to allow Nesta to open the door. “We serve breakfast from six to noon, if you’d like something brought up to the room, there is a menu along with a note pad that will send your order to the kitchens. If you need anything at all, I’ll be downstairs through the night,” she said warmly before stepping around the three of you and heading back the way you’d come.

Nesta entered the room first, loosing a sigh at the room. “That bed will not fit the three of us.”

Mor laughed bitterly. “Yes it will, Nesta. You just won’t be able to sleep without touching us.”

She glared at Mor, crossing her arms over her chest. “No, the bed is not big enough for three people to sleep comfortably.”

Her words made Mor scoff. “Comfortably, you say, meaning without touching either of us,” Mor hissed, opening her mouth to continue the budding argument.

“Okay, I’m going to go take a quick bath,” you said, hoping to interrupt them before they really got going. Or at least escape the worst of it while you got cleaned up from the long day. “Mor, you said that could you could give me a change of clothes?”

“Uhm, yeah I’ll bring them in to you in a few minutes,” Mor said, glancing at you as you walked towards the washroom before turning her attention back to Nesta. “You just don’t want to share a bed with other women, do you? Or do you think I’m going to-”

You shut the door to the bathroom just before she finished the sentence, but you could hear Nesta’s enraged response at whatever it was that Mor had accused her of thinking. A sigh left your lips as you slipped out of your clothes, your dress, socks, and underthings falling in a pile over your shoes before you stepped out of it.

The tub filled up quickly with hot water, steam rolling off of it thanks to whatever magic the inn was equipped with. You sank into it eagerly, breathing deeply as you relaxed into the water, the heat melting away your tension.

Until you heard Nesta and Mor’s voices, still arguing back in the bedroom.

You rolled your eyes to the ceiling before closing them and taking a deep breath, sinking your head below the surface.

Under the water was peaceful, calm. All you could hear was your heartbeat and the sound of water bubbling in your ears.

A welcome change.

But eventually you needed to breath, and you moved above the surface, the sound of arguing still greeting you. You sighed as your annoyance with the pair of them grew.

Couldn’t they put it to rest, at least until morning?

You scrubbed yourself quickly, wanting to get out of the tub so you could make them cease whatever petty argument they were currently wrapped in. Within five minutes you were up and wrapped in a towel, your wet hair dripping down your back as you opened the bathroom door.

“Hey,” you said loudly, grabbing the attention of both Nesta and Mor, stopping Mor mid-sentence. “Can the two of you calm down? And Mor, do you have something I can wear?” you asked shortly, fed up with their childish behavior. Nesta, you could excuse, being so young compared to you and Mor. But Mor? Mor was older than you, she should not be behaving like a cranky ten year old.

Color rose to Mor’s cheeks as she stared at you. “Oh, uh… Here,” she said, handing you a night gown made of a dark purple silk.

“Thank you. I’ll be out in a moment, and one of you can bathe.” You shut the door behind you without waiting for a response. Your hair was wrapped in the towel before you pulled the nightgown over your head, the soft silk pleasantly running down your skin, ending just below your hip.

“Mor?!” you asked as you left the bathroom, your brows pulled together. “What is this? You call this a nightgown?!”

Mor smirked at you from her spot in a chair, Nesta standing against the opposite wall. “You needed something to wear, and I provided it,” she explained with a shrug, but the sparkle in her eye told you she might have another possible motive.

You narrowed your eyes at her. A nightgown did not mean lingerie!

“Well, I’m going to go take a bath,” Nesta said, taking your expression as a cue to leave.

“Mor!” you hissed as you approached her, pushing her shoulder back against the chair. “If you want to keep playing this low-key, maybe you shouldn’t be dressing me in nothing!”

Mor merely pulled you into her lap, your thighs spread over her lap - a usual, tempting position for the two of you. But Nesta was in the next room, for an undetermined amount of time -

Mor’s lips on your neck drew a low moan from your throat as you melted into her. “Mor,” you whined softly in her ear, sighing when her hands rubbed your back soothingly.

“You look so pretty in this one, doll,” Mor said against the skin of your neck before pulling you back, eyes greedily drinking you in. “I love this especially,” she said with a smile as she ran her fingers over your breasts, the delicate lace that made up the cups of dress just barely covering your nipples. “And this.” Her hands squeezed your bare ass, two fingers drifting lower to dip into your cunt, just barely. “So wet for me already, love,”Mor hummed in satisfaction.

You sighed against her neck, burying your face in her hair. “Was this your plan? Get me to the Continent and tease me to death?”

Mor chuckled beneath you, pushing her fingers in deeper, setting a slow pace. “Not really, I thought that we would be done with negotiations before dinner, if I’m being honest,” she said as you whimpered into her hair, clenching around her fingers as you thought of how easily you could be caught. “My plan was to make you wear this pretty pretty dress and ride my face until you’re begging for me to stop because you’ve cum too many times,” Mor whispered into your ear lowly, chuckling when you shuddered against her at her words. “But I suppose… Since we’re sharing a bed with Nesta,” she growled, pulling you away from her neck by your hair when you clenched at the sound of her name. “Oh? Does my pretty girl want to share a bed with Nesta too? Hmm?”

She pushed a third finger into you when you didn’t answer, a loud whimper tearing from your lips. “Fuck, yes, okay, yes!” you admitted into the air between you, relieved when Mor pulled you back against her, your hips grinding down on her hand.

“Good, because I think this could be a fun way to get Nesta to admit that she’s wanted to fuck both of us for at least a year,” Mor said with a bright smile before taking her fingers out of you, holding them in front of your mouth. “Open, pretty girl, and you just might get your wish today.” You bit your lip before opening wide, letting Mor push her fingers into your mouth, your tongue licking them clean of your slick as a blush covered your cheeks. “Good girl,” Mor praised, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips before gently getting you to stand again.

Your ears picked up the sound of sloshing water, a sign that Nesta was likely climbing out of the bath, and only a minute or two away from leaving the washroom. Good thing Mor was paying more attention.

“Now, no finishing yourself before I get out of the bath, okay? That goes for letting Nesta make you cum, doll,” Mor whispered to you as she led you over to the bed, drawing back the covers. “But you can make her cum plenty, if she’s willing.”

You nodded, eager to abide by her rules - she always rewarded you so nicely when you did. You slid beneath the sheets, certain that your scent would still be plenty noticeable by the time Nesta came out of the bathroom.

Which was right when Mor had stepped away after pulling the covers over you, wrapped in a towel just as you had been.

“Mor do you…?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Mor pulled another nightgown from thin air, this one made of a silver silk. “Here,” she said as she handed it to Nesta, purposefully brushing her hand softly against hers before releasing the dress.

Nesta merely nodded her head before shutting the door, returning less than a minute later clad in a nightgown that hugged her curves, but was thankfully less revealing than yours. Mor slipped into the bathroom giving you a smile and a wink before shutting the door, leaving you alone in a room with Nesta.

And very aroused.

In practically nothing.

A Nesta was slipping under the covers right next to you!

You laid very, very still against the mattress, refusing to move an inch. She would need to make some kind of move.

“So… You and Mor?”

Your head turned quickly to the left, meeting Nesta’s gorgeous silvery blue eyes. “Uh… Yeah, sorry,” you said sheepishly, your cheeks reddening further.

“No, no, don’t be. I’m just…” Nesta paused.

“You’re just…?”

“Just… Wondering if there’s room to play? With me, specifically,” Nesta said breathlessly. “Mor happened to be talking-”

“What?” you asked, sitting up and letting the covers fall from your chest.

“Just about how much she’s wanted to fuck me since we met,” Nesta explained, one of her hands finding yours. “So when I came back out and the room is absolutely soaked in your scent, which is delicious by the way, I assumed that Mor might have had an ulterior motive for telling me tonight.”

You bit your lip, less nervous now that she’d displayed obvious interest. “Maybe… But I had no idea that this was at all in the cards. Not that I’m complaining,” you said with a flirty smile on your lips as you gripped her hand back. “So… Can I kiss you?”

Nesta smirked at you, and tugged you towards her by your hand. You complied, slotting yourself over her as you had with Mor, your hands reaching to hold the back of her head, her golden blonde hair so soft. Only a moment’s hesitation before you were pressing your lips gently to hers, indulging in the softness of her plush lips.

You attempted to pull back, only for Nesta to tug you in closer, one hand gripping your hair and the other on your lower back. Your mouths moved in tandem, one of your own hands travelling down from her hair to her chest, running over the neckline of the nightgown Mor had lent her.

Nesta broke away gasping when your fingers slipped below, brushing against one of her nipples lightly. You smirked at her as you moved your hand to the right strap, flicking it off of her shoulder before repeating it on the left side, enjoy the uneven breaths Nesta was taking, the way her skin was rising into your touch. A nod from Nesta when you made eye contact, your hands poised to pull the fabric down, let you do so, your eyes glued to the perfect, milky white skin of her breasts and puffy pink nipples.

“Absolutely breathtaking,” you breathed before lowering your mouth to the right one, laving your tongue over her nipple, soaking in the quiet gasp Nesta let out for you. A hand was still knotted in your hair, but her other had travelled from your back to your shoulder when you’d slid down her. And now, she moved it around your shoulder and down your own chest, slipping under the lacy detailing to pinch one of your nipples, a soft moan leaving your mouth, muffled by her skin.

Her hand tightened in your hair, the sting light enough to be pleasant, and you flicked your eyes up to look at Nesta’s face. Silver eyes met yours, closing when you lightly grazed your teeth over her nipple. You pressed wet kisses to the skin of her chest, moving over to her left side to pay love to an equally perfect breast, suckling a dark mark onto the underside of it, loving the soft hiss Nesta let out at the mild pain, soothed away by your tongue a moment later.

“I think this,” you tugged on the silver silk, “Needs to come off.” Nesta grinned at you, releasing your hair and letting you lift the fabric over her head, tossing it off to the side. You scooted down the bed a bit before pulling Nesta down by her hips so her head was resting comfortably on a pillow.

“You’re treating me like such a-” Nesta gasped when your lips connected with her skin again, this time kissing a slow path down her neck, down her chest. “Such a princess, I’m not used to it.”

You paused your movements, looking up at her. “Not used to it? What horrible, awful people have you been sleeping with that they don’t treat you, Nesta Archeron, Lady Death, a goddess in the flesh, like a princess?” You asked softly, saddened that Nesta hadn’t been treated well by her past lovers.

Well, from now on, you would make sure she was treated like a princess, every damn day of her life. You were mostly sure that Mor would be okay with it, given how she set all of this up.

Nesta’s cheeks were red, and she turned her eyes away from yours. “Hey,” you said softly, pressing a kiss to each cheek. “You are amazing, Nesta, and I’m just sad that you haven’t been treated the way that you deserve. Will you let me show you?” you asked her once she was willing to meet your eyes again. “Just a nod or a shake, that’s all I need. I’m fine either way, and Mor will be too, love.”

Nesta bit her lip, her eyes drifting to your lips, dipping lower to see how the fabric of your nightgown had fallen from your chest slightly, letting her see down your front. A tiny nod of her head, and you resumed placing soft, soft kisses down her chest, paying extra attention to both breasts before moving lower. You kissed down the smooth skin of her abdomen, past her bellybutton, making eye contact before moving lower.

Nes placed her hand in your hair, gently pushing you lower, a smile on your lips as you kissed lower once more, over the soft hair at the apex of her thighs before pulling back. You parted her legs gently and settled yourself between them, loving the sharp inhale Nesta took when your breath puffed over her core for the first time.

Your eyes locked onto hers when you pressed the first kiss to her pretty, gleaming pussy, noting the way they shut for a moment before fluttering back open, meeting yours once more. And when you licked a slow stripe up her, you loved the way they squeezed shut, only opening when you pulled away for a moment to move loop both of your arms under her legs, hands curled to rest where her legs and hips meet.

They shut as soon as your tongue flicked over her clit, and you smiled before repeating the action, loving the tiny wiggle Nesta’s hips did in response. You set to feasting on her, dipping your tongue inside of her shutting your eyes at just how soaked she was, proud of your handiwork.

You didn’t move your mouth from her core, even when you heard the bedroom door open and felt Nesta wiggle in your hold. The bed dipped behind you and your hips were lifted up slightly, and you jolted when Mor’s tongue ran over your cunt without a warning.

Mor chuckled when she pulled away. “I thought I could still get my wish to have you sit on my face, doll, unless you don’t think you can multitask?” she asked skeptically, her breath puffing against your core.

You pulled your mouth from Nesta, locking eyes with her, a smile on your face. “I can do both,” you said breathily, not wasting another second before diving back down, sucking on Nesta’s clit gently this time.

“Fuck,” Nesta moaned, her hips grinding into your mouth for a moment. “She can do both, Mor.”

No time was wasted as Mor pulled your hips down onto her face, a moan leaving you, muffled by Nesta’s skin.

You felt like you had died and gone to heaven, with how amazing the night had turned out, Nesta’s cunt on your tongue, and Mor’s tongue on your cunt.

And you could certainly get used to it.

🤍❤️🤍🩶🤍

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @meritxellao @twismare @wrenisrad @icey--stars

[mooreaux]

Just dressing up my ot3 from @night-market-if ‘s game! Milo Mor and Malcolm, aka M&M&M

[krik0]

Ñomñom 🌷

[everythingacotarbxm1012]

The Shadowsinger and the Emissary

Formerly : They're Mates - with Y/N Pt 1

Summary - Feyre meets Rhys's Inner Circle and witnesses the strength of the mating bond.

Warnings - abusive family mentioned.

Other Notes - 1k words; Please note that most of these lines/plot points are inspired or directly quoted from ACOMAF; I originally posted this where Reader was given the name 'Vee' but am putting this one out for anyone who might prefer y/n.

Part of The Shadowsinger and the Emissary Universe.

✨💫

Feyre looked up to see the same two males from earlier standing in the doorway, grinning, and a new presence. A beautiful female with wings like the others. She wore a deep blue gown that reached the floor––her hair resting over both her shoulders. The two males wore black leather with a sword strapped against their backs. Feyre noted the power each of them seemed to hold.

The male who was a bit large than the other, spoke up with a light chuckle. “We don’t bite. Unless you ask us to Feyre.”

The female shot him a pointed look. “Last time I checked, nobody wanted to take you up on that offer, Cassian.” The male who stood between the female and Cassian let out a light, short, laugh before whispering something into the female’s ear making her eyes twinkle subtly. Feyre watched as Cassian gave his own pointed look.

“No secrets in front of our guest, Az,” Cassian said with a grin.

The light danced across their faces allowing Feyre to observe their physical features for a moment. Similar to Rhysand, all three were dark-haired. Both males had tanned skin and hazel eyes. Feyre couldn’t quite tell the eye color of the female standing next to Az, but she gave off an air of beauty and power.

Cassian grinned again, looking Rhys and Feyre up and down. “You made poor Feyre dress up, brother,” he said before winking in her direction. His features were rough like someone had molded him, from the earth.

The second male was more classically beautiful, though hard to read. He was certainly the one who would be a surprise in the dark, the hidden knife. Feyre noticed the light sparkle in his eyes anytime he looked at the female to his left. It piqued a curiosity in Feyre.

Rhys said, “Azriel––my spymaster,” indicating the one in the middle. He then indicated the female. “Y/N. An emissary for the Night Court.” A name, Feyre later learned, Az had adopted for the emissary after she declared she did not want the name her abusive family had given her.

She immediately offered her hand with a warm smile. “Welcome, Feyre.” She gently squeezed Feyre’s hand before she quickly let go and Feyre does her best to not seem eager as she stepped back to stand next to the High Lord of the night Court, again.

“You’re brothers?” Feyre asked. The two males before her looked similar. The kind of similar where people who come from the same place do, not familial similar.

“All bastards are brothers in some sense,” Rhys responded, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Before Feyre could ask Cassian said, “And I command Rhys’s armies.”

Feyre nodded, shifting on her feet slightly before her eyes glanced to see Azriel taking another glance in the emissary’s direction. She looked right back with a smile that showed a clear fondness for the spymaster. The moment went as quickly as it came when Az turned his gaze to Feyre. “Cassian also excels at pissing everyone off. Especially amongst our friends. So, as a friend of Rhysand, good luck.”

Feyre was giving more attention to not being recognized as the girl Under the Mountain. She wondered, for just a moment if they knew––maybe they didn’t. That was quickly  answered when Cassian nudged past the Night Court’s spymaster requiring Az to flare his wings to keep himself balanced. Feyre watched Y/N’s hand fall to Azriel’s lower back to assist. Feyre noticed the fleeting moment of eye contact between the spymaster and the emissary, but it quickly became a second thought as Cassian asked his question about how Feyre had made the bone ladder in the Middengard Wyrm’s lair, when as he put it, “you looked like your own bones could snap at any moment.”

Y/N shot Cassian another pointed gaze, but it turned into a grin after Feyre made a sarcastic comment of her own. The general laughed and Azriel’s eyebrow lifted with approval as the shadows swirled around him, tighter. Feyre’s need to understand the gift only furthered when the shadows swirled up and around Y/N’s wrist playfully, before weaving around the ends of her hair.

Her curiosity once again was pushed to the side when Feyre heard, thankfully, a familiar voice…Mor. “I hope Cassian’s howling means Feyre told him to shut his fat mouth.”

Y/N quickly whispered something into Az’s ear, his shadows lightened slightly from around him. Feyre’s curiosity about the nature of their relationship increasing.

“I don’t know why I forget you two are related,” Cassian told Mor, while glancing over at Rhys for just a moment. “You two and your clothing.” The High Lord rolled his eyes, but Feyre had her own focus on the emissary and the spymaster who were both standing in silence, stealing glances at each other.

“I wanted to impress Feyre. You could have tried to make an effort to comb your hair,” Mor responded.

Cassian braced his feet a little farther apart on the floor in a fighting stance Feyre recognized, perhaps too well. “Unlike some people, I have better things to do with my time than sit in front of the mirror for hours,” the general bit back.

“Yes,” Mor the said, tossing her hair over her shoulder, “since swaggering around––”

“We have company,” Azriel said in a soft warning, spreading his wings as he tried to herd everyone.

“Relax, Az,” Mor said as she dodged the spymaster’s outstretched wing. “We won’t fight. We promised Rhys.”

Feyre barely noticed Az stop in his tracks, letting out the smallest of huff and his shadows seem to become thicker. She then watched as Y/N took one of Az’s hands in her own, gently pressing her lips to the back of it. His shadows lightened around him. Apparently the question about their relationship reached Feyre’s face because Rhys leaned down slightly to say, “They’re mates. Azriel and Y/N. They’ve known each other a little over 500 years and been mates just under 500.”

Feyre considered that fact, thinking there was something delicately beautiful about nearly 500 years of commitment between the two. Now she just had a few thousand more questions about the court’s spymaster and emissary. Question she decided were for another time as Mor indicated the empty seat beside her. Feyre knew the image of Az whispering into his mate’s ear and the twinkle in her eye would be etched into the back of her mind forever.

[fr0stf4ll]

A proper girls’ night

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; You and Azriel have been mates for some time now, and between managing the males, training, missions, raising a child, and fulfilling duties as High Lady, you haven’t had the chance to enjoy a proper girls' night with your closest friends. But tonight is supposed to be all about you and the girls—or is it? ;)

word count ; 7.2k

warning; SMUT ;p, alcohol, drunk sex

notes; Yoo everyone, here I am again for a one shot. I'm not the best for smut so I hope that you will enjoy it. I got the idea of this story after a small party with some of my best friends so I hope that you will like it ! With love <3333

---

I was lounging on my plush couch, admiring the final touches I’d added to make this apartment truly feel like home. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the Sidra, and soft, warm lights created a comforting ambiance. This place was everything I’d hoped for—a fresh start, a new chapter.

I had just finished arranging the last decorative pillow when a knock echoed through the apartment. I grinned, already knowing who it was.

“Come in!” I called out.

The door swung open to reveal Feyre, Nesta, and Mor. Feyre carried not just one, but two bottles of wine, Nesta had a stack of board games tucked under her arm, and Mor, of course, arrived with an enormous grin and—was that three bottles of spirits?

“Are we throwing a party, or did I miss something?” I laughed, taking in the sheer amount of alcohol they had brought with them.

Mor dropped the bottles on the counter with a flourish. “What? It’s not every day we christen a new apartment, Y/N! We needed to make sure we had enough… well, more than enough.”

Nesta smirked, adding, “You know how things go with us. We start with wine, then move on to something stronger. And just in case, I thought we’d better bring a little extra.”

“A little extra?” I echoed, raising an eyebrow as I counted the bottles. “This looks like enough to keep us going for a week.”

Feyre chuckled, setting the wine down. “Consider it insurance. We’re not leaving until we’ve had a proper girls’ night.”

Mor waved a hand dismissively. “No boys, no responsibilities, and a whole lot of alcohol. That’s what tonight is about. We’re here to have fun, relax, and forget about everything else.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I started pulling out glasses. “Well, if that’s the case, then let’s get started.”

The girls settled in, each finding a spot on the couch or one of the oversized chairs. Mor was already opening one of the wine bottles, filling up our glasses generously.

“We’ve spent too many nights at Rita’s,” Nesta said, her tone teasing but sincere. “It’s nice to just relax here for a change.”

Feyre nodded in agreement, raising her glass. “Especially with the company. I could get used to this.”

Mor clinked her glass against Feyre’s. “Here’s to our host, for letting us invade her beautiful new home. And for not skimping on the drinks.”

“I didn’t realize I had a choice,” I teased, holding up my glass before taking a sip. The wine was rich and full-bodied, the perfect start to what promised to be a wild night.

“Tonight is all about us,” Mor declared, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she leaned back in her seat. “No boys, no distractions, just us girls and more alcohol than we know what to do with.”

“Agreed,” Nesta said, holding up one of the board games. “Let’s start with something easy. Then we can see where the night takes us.”

The night was still young, and the four of us had already settled comfortably into my new apartment. The alcohol was flowing freely—perhaps a bit too freely—and the conversation had naturally turned to gossip. It was inevitable when we got together, especially after a few glasses of wine.

We were sprawled out on the couch and chairs, each of us with a drink in hand. The warmth from the alcohol had already loosened our tongues, and the atmosphere was buzzing with the excitement of shared secrets.

Mor, never one to hold back, was the first to dive in. “Alright, ladies, I’ve got some tea. And I’m not talking about that herbal nonsense.” She leaned in, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Did you hear about the sparring match Cassian had the other day with Devlon?”

That got everyone’s attention. “No,” Nesta said, her eyes narrowing. “What happened?”

Mor grinned, clearly enjoying the anticipation. “So, apparently, Devlon thought it would be a good idea to challenge Cassian in front of all the Illyrians—like, really make a show of it. Cassian, being Cassian, accepted, but he didn’t just beat him. He absolutely humiliated him. We’re talking flat on his back, wings pinned, can’t even move. And to top it all off, Cassian just stood up, dusted himself off, and said, ‘Next time, try harder.’”

Nesta snorted, trying to hide her amusement. “Serves him right. Devlon’s been asking for it.”

Feyre nodded, her eyes wide with delight. “I wish I could have seen that.”

“Oh, but it gets better,” Mor continued, her grin widening. “Devlon’s been walking around the camp like a wounded animal ever since. The other Illyrians are having a field day with it. They’ve even started calling him ‘the Fallen Commander’ behind his back.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Cassian really knows how to make an impression.”

“Not as much of an impression as Rhys made when he was caught singing in the bath the other day,” Mor added, her tone dripping with amusement.

Feyre blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, what?”

“Oh, yeah,” Mor said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “I happened to be passing by when I heard it. He was belting out some old Prythian ballad—badly, might I add—and I swear, for a second, I thought a cat was dying.”

Nesta burst out laughing. “Please tell me you have some sort of recording.”

“I wish!” Mor exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “But trust me, the image is seared into my memory forever. The High Lord of the Night Court, all serious and stoic by day, and an absolute disaster in the bathroom.”

Feyre groaned, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips. “I’m never letting him live that down.”

“And then there’s Azriel,” Mor said, shifting her attention to me with a wicked grin. “I’m surprised he hasn’t broken anything with those late-night visits to your place.”

I blushed instantly, caught off guard. “What? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” Mor teased, her eyes glinting with amusement. “We all know that shadowy lover of yours can’t keep his hands off you. I mean, with the way you’ve been glowing lately, it’s not hard to figure out why.”

“Azriel doesn’t talk much,” Nesta added, smirking, “but I bet he more than makes up for it in other areas.”

Feyre was giggling, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Spill, Y/N! We need to know—does he really keep the shadows around, or does he prefer a more hands-on approach?”

My face was burning by now, but the alcohol had loosened my tongue enough that I couldn’t help but join in. “Let’s just say, the shadows aren’t the only thing that’s always… active.”

That sent Mor into peals of laughter, nearly spilling her drink as she doubled over. “Oh, I knew it! Azriel’s got that dark, broody exterior, but underneath… he’s a beast, isn’t he?”

I could only laugh in response, covering my face with my hands. “I’m not saying anything else!”

“Come on,” Nesta urged, leaning in. “We won’t tell a soul. Just a little more.”

I peeked out from behind my hands, giving them a sly grin. “Let’s just say, he’s very… thorough.”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Mor cheered, holding her glass up for a toast. “To thorough lovers and late-night visits that leave you glowing!”

We all clinked our glasses together, the laughter bubbling up again. The night was filled with stories that grew more outrageous with each passing drink. Feyre even confessed to sneaking up on Rhys one morning with a bucket of cold water, just to get back at him for something he’d done weeks earlier.

“I’ll never forget the look on his face,” she giggled, eyes bright with mischief. “He didn’t speak to me for half the day—until he figured out how to get me back.”

“Did he manage to one-up you?” I asked, curious.

“Oh, he tried,” Feyre replied, a smirk playing on her lips. “But he should have known better than to start a prank war with me. I’m still two steps ahead.”

“You two are impossible,” Mor said, shaking her head but unable to hide her amusement. “But what about Cassian? Does he know about all of this?”

“Cassian,” Nesta said, still grinning, “is too busy preening in front of the mirror these days. He’s been obsessed with perfecting his ‘battle-ready’ look. You wouldn’t believe how much time he spends adjusting his armor to make sure it’s just the right amount of ‘ruggedly handsome.’”

Feyre rolled her eyes, but there was a fondness in her voice. “Typical. He’s worse than a peacock.”

“Speaking of peacocks,” Mor added, leaning in again, “I heard that Tarquin’s been parading around the Summer Court with his shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest. Apparently, he thinks it makes him look ‘mysterious and approachable.’”

Feyre snorted. “More like ridiculous.”

As the conversation began to wind down, Mor suddenly jumped to her feet, a wild look in her eyes. “Alright, ladies,” she declared, “enough sitting around. It’s time to take this party up a notch.”

The night had taken a turn, a wild, exhilarating turn. What started as a simple girls' night had quickly evolved into something far more chaotic and, quite frankly, downright ridiculous. The ridiculous part might have had something to do with the copious amounts of alcohol, but that was beside the point.

It all began after the third bottle of wine was emptied, and Mor, in her infinite wisdom, declared that the night was far too young to end with just drinking and talking. The suggestion to turn the apartment into our very own private club was made, and, well, it didn’t take much convincing.

I don’t know where Mor had pulled it from—whether it was some hidden magic or just her unrelenting spirit—but somehow, my apartment transformed. Soft lights gave way to pulsating club lights, shifting in colors that matched the beat of the music that now blasted through the room. The furniture was pushed aside, making space for what had effectively become a dance floor.

“I didn’t even know you had this in you,” Feyre shouted over the music, her eyes wide with delight as she took in the scene.

“Neither did I!” I shouted back, laughing as I twirled around in the flashing lights. The wine had long since turned my limbs to jelly, and I felt lighter, freer than I had in a long time.

Nesta, who had been initially reluctant, was now completely immersed, her usually stoic expression replaced with a flushed grin as she sipped from yet another drink. “I’m not even sure what’s happening anymore,” she admitted, before bursting into laughter at the absurdity of it all.

Mor, of course, was in her element. She had Feyre by the hand, pulling her onto the makeshift dance floor. “Come on, Feyre! Show us those moves!”

Feyre, not one to back down from a challenge, joined in with gusto, the two of them dancing wildly, their laughter filling the room. It was infectious, and soon, we were all moving to the beat, lost in the moment.

The alcohol flowed freely, and it wasn’t long before we were all well beyond tipsy. Nesta, usually the most reserved of us, was now draped over the couch, clutching her drink and singing along to the music—though the words were more slurred than sung. Mor had taken it upon herself to DJ, switching between tracks with the enthusiasm of someone who was enjoying every second of the chaos she had created.

As for me, I was somewhere in the middle of it all, dancing with Feyre and Mor one minute, then flopping down next to Nesta the next, my head spinning in the best possible way.

“This was the best idea ever,” I declared, holding up my drink in a toast to… well, everything. The lights, the music, the ridiculousness of it all.

“I told you!” Mor shot back, barely managing to avoid spilling her drink as she twirled around. “This is what girls’ night is all about!”

Feyre, who had given up on dancing in favor of lounging on the couch with Nesta, nodded vigorously. “We should do this every week.”

“Yes!” Nesta agreed, raising her glass—though she missed her mouth when she tried to take a sip, spilling a bit of her drink on herself. She didn’t seem to mind, though. “Every week!”

We all dissolved into laughter, the kind that made your stomach ache and tears stream down your face. It was a night of pure, unfiltered joy, the kind of night that reminded me just how lucky I was to have these incredible women in my life.

At some point—who knows when—the music was turned up even louder, and we all found ourselves back on the dance floor, moving in a way that was far more about having fun than it was about looking good. Not that any of us cared. This was our night, and we were going to make the most of it.

As the night wore on and the drinks continued to flow, the line between reality and whatever madness we had created blurred even further. The lights, the music, the alcohol—it all mixed together in a haze of color and sound, until it felt like we were in another world entirely, a world where nothing mattered but the here and now.

At some point, Mor pulled out a bottle of something stronger—something that definitely wasn’t wine—and poured shots for everyone. We downed them without hesitation, the burn in our throats a reminder that we were alive, that we were here, that this night would be one we’d never forget.

And it was. By the time we finally collapsed in a heap on the floor, the world spinning around us, I knew that this was a night I’d look back on and smile. We were drunk, we were ridiculous, and it was perfect.

As we lay there, catching our breath and trying to stop the room from spinning, Feyre turned to me, her eyes heavy with exhaustion and alcohol. “You know,” she said, her voice soft, “this was exactly what we needed.”

I smiled, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “Yeah,” I agreed, my voice barely a whisper. “Me too.”

Tonight was one for the books.

The night had taken a wild, exhilarating turn. What started as a simple girls' night had quickly evolved into something far more chaotic and, quite frankly, downright ridiculous. The alcohol was flowing freely, and the atmosphere was buzzing with energy as the room transformed into our very own private club.

But just when I thought the night couldn’t get any crazier, Mor clapped her hands together, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “Alright, ladies, let’s up the stakes. Who’s up for a game of ‘Never Have I Ever’?”

Feyre groaned, though her eyes were gleaming with mischief. “Oh gods, this is going to get dangerous.”

“Exactly,” Mor said, grabbing a fresh bottle of something strong and pouring shots for everyone. “We’re already half-gone, so let’s see who can survive this round.”

Nesta eyed the shot glass suspiciously but took it anyway. “Fine, but let’s keep it reasonable.”

“Reasonable?” Mor scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “Where’s the fun in that?”

With everyone armed with a shot glass, we settled onto the floor, forming a loose circle. Mor, as the instigator, went first. She smirked, lifting her glass. “Never have I ever… kissed someone with the intention of getting free drinks.”

Feyre immediately took a sip, as did Mor, who winked at me. “What can I say? Sometimes, charm gets you a long way.”

"When the person buying your drinks is Rhysand, it doesn't count Feyre" I said laughing at her.

Nesta, surprisingly, didn’t drink, but she gave a small smile. “I prefer to pay my own way, thank you very much.”

Next, it was Feyre’s turn. She narrowed her eyes in mock concentration before grinning. “Never have I ever… gotten out of trouble by flirting.”

Mor and I immediately took our shots, causing Feyre to raise an eyebrow. “Come on, you two, spill.”

Mor grinned, clearly eager to share. “Alright, so there was this one time in the Summer Court… I was supposed to be at a formal dinner, but I got a little sidetracked with a rather charming advisor. We were caught by one of the palace guards, and let’s just say, I had to turn on the charm full blast to avoid a very awkward conversation with Tarquin.”

Feyre shook her head, laughing. “Only you, Mor.”

I couldn’t help but join in. “For me, it was during a mission. I needed to get past a rather stubborn gatekeeper who wasn’t interested in letting me through. A little flirting and a lot of batting my eyelashes later, and suddenly I was the most important person on his list. I got what I needed, and he never even knew what hit him.”

Nesta looked at me with a smirk. “I’m surprised Az didn’t handle that for you.”

“Oh, he would’ve,” I admitted with a laugh. “But sometimes, a girl’s got to do things her own way.”

Feyre shook her head, still smiling. “Rhys would’ve been so jealous.”

“Please,” Mor scoffed, “Rhys would have encouraged it.”

Nesta chuckled, lifting her glass. “Alright, next one. Never have I ever… sent a dirty thought to your partner to see their reaction.”

Feyre and Nesta immediately took their shots, while Mor and I exchanged surprised looks, our glasses untouched.

Feyre’s cheeks flushed as she laughed. “I did it to Rhys once during a meeting—he nearly choked on his drink. I thought I was being subtle, but apparently, his reaction was… noticeable. I think I almost caused a diplomatic incident.”

Mor burst out laughing, her eyes wide. “Oh, I would’ve paid to see that.”

Nesta, surprisingly, offered her own story, her voice more subdued but with a hint of amusement. “I sent Cassian a… vivid thought while he was training the Illyrians. He dropped his sword mid-swing and nearly took out an entire row of recruits. They didn’t know what happened, but Cassian spent the rest of the day giving me death glares.”

The room erupted into laughter, the image of Cassian flustered and distracted by Nesta’s thoughts too much to handle.

“Well, I’ve never done it,” I said, still giggling. “But now I’m tempted. I wonder how a certain shadow singer would react.”

“Knowing you, Y/N” Feyre said with a grin, “he would probably drop everything he is doing to go join you.”

“Oh, definitely” I agreed, taking a sip of my drink anyway. “But let’s keep going, shall we?”

The game continued, the questions growing bolder, the shots more frequent, and the laughter louder. By the time we were on the tenth or eleventh round, there was no turning back.

“Alright, my turn,” Nesta said, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Never have I ever… had someone walk in on me during sex.”

Mor and Feyre both took a sip, while I hesitated before taking mine. “Let’s just say, it was awkward,” I said with a cringe, though I couldn’t help but laugh at the memory.

Mor, however, was not about to let it go. “Oh, no, no. You can’t just drop a bomb like that and not give us details. Who walked in?”

I smirked, taking another sip of my drink for courage. “Rhys. And let’s just say, I’ve never seen him retreat from a room so fast.”

That sent Mor into peals of laughter, nearly spilling her drink as she doubled over. “Oh, I can just picture it! Poor Rhys, walking in on you two… I bet Az didn’t even bat an eyelash.”

Nesta snickered, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “And I’m sure Azriel was just as composed as ever, right? Or did he actually look guilty for once?”

I rolled my eyes, unable to keep the grin off my face. “Let’s just say, Azriel wasn’t too happy about the interruption. But once Rhys was out of the room… he made sure to make up for lost time.”

Feyre choked on her drink, laughing as she wiped her mouth. “I bet he did! Azriel’s got that silent intensity… but I’m sure he can be anything but quiet when he wants to be.”

“He’s very… intense, in more ways than one.”

Mor grinned wickedly, holding her glass up for a toast. “To very intense lovers who know how to get the job done—and then some!”

The night had taken on a life of its own, with the alcohol flowing and inhibitions flying out the window. We were deep into the game of "Never Have I Ever," and it seemed like nothing was off-limits at this point.

Feyre, clearly feeling the effects of the drinks, leaned forward with a mischievous grin. “Alright, ladies, last one from me. Never have I ever… tried the ‘Moonlit Arch’ position.”

There was a pause as the question hung in the air. Mor immediately downed her shot, as did Feyre. Nesta hesitated, then took hers as well. Meanwhile, I just sat there, my glass untouched, staring at them with a raised eyebrow.

“Wait… what?” I asked, feeling completely out of the loop. “What’s the ‘Moonlit Arch’? Are you sure you didn’t made that up ?”

Feyre’s grin widened as she set down her glass. “Oh, sweetie, you’ve been missing out. How do I explain this?”

Before I could protest, Feyre had jumped up from her spot, a bit unsteady but determined. She sauntered over to me, her eyes gleaming with tipsy mischief. “It’s easier to show than tell.”

The next thing you knew, Feyre was pushing me back onto the ground, her hands on your shoulders. “Relax, this is educational,” she teased, as she gently pushed me down and straddled my lap.

“Feyre, what are you—” You began, but was cut off as she leaned down, bringing her lips close to your ear.

“It’s all about the angle,” Feyre whispered, her breath warm against your ear. “You lie back, just like this…”

She gently guided me into position, her hands on my shoulders as she demonstrated. Before you knew it, Nesta was there too, her eyes gleaming with the same mischief as she grabbed Feyre’s hands and placed them on either side of your face.

“It’s all about guiding the energy,” Nesta murmured, her voice low and sultry. “Make sure your partner knows exactly where to focus.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though it was tinged with nervousness and the absurdity of the situation. “You’re both insane.”

“Insanely helpful,” Mor chimed in, a grin spreading across her face as she sauntered over. She took Feyre’s hands and moved them down to my chest, giving a light squeeze. “And don’t forget about the importance of… other areas.”

“Mor!” You gasped, my face burning as you tried to squirm away, but the alcohol had made me sluggish, and the three of them had me pinned in place.

“It’s all in good fun,” Feyre said with a laugh, her eyes twinkling as she gently patted my cheek. “Now, the trick is to—”

—

It was nearly dawn, and the soft light of morning was beginning to creep through the windows of the townhouse. One by one, the guys emerged from their rooms, each of them groggy and slightly disoriented, but with a nagging feeling in the back of their minds.

Rhysand was the first to step into the hallway, his brow furrowed in concern. “Is it just me, or is something off?” he muttered to himself.

Cassian’s door creaked open next, and he stuck his head out, his hair a wild mess. “Where the hell are they?”

Azriel appeared a moment later, his eyes shadowed with worry. “They’re not answering,” he said quietly, though his voice was tinged with concern.

The three of them exchanged glances, the same thought running through their minds: their mates weren’t back yet, and none of them had responded to the bond.

Cassian scratched his head, still half-asleep. “You think they’re okay? Maybe they… got distracted?”

“Distracted?” Rhys repeated, raising an eyebrow. “By what, exactly?”

Azriel sighed, trying to remain calm. “It’s just a girls’ night. They’re probably just… having fun.”

Cassian leaned against the wall, rubbing his eyes. “Yeah, but still… it’s nearly morning. Shouldn’t they be back by now?”

Rhys glanced toward the window, watching as the sky began to lighten. “They should be. I can’t get through to Feyre.”

“Same with Nesta,” Cassian added, his worry finally starting to show.

Azriel’s expression darkened slightly as he nodded. “And Y/N’s just giving off this… contented feeling. But nothing else.”

The three males stood in silence for a moment, the unease growing between them. Finally, Cassian huffed and pushed off the wall. “Alright, that’s it. We’re going to check on them.”

Azriel hesitated, glancing between the other two. “You’re all overreacting. They’re perfectly capable of taking care of themselves.”

“Sure they are,” Cassian agreed, a glint of concern in his eyes. “But aren’t you just a little curious about what they’re up to?”

Azriel hesitated, glancing out the window at the faint light of dawn creeping over the horizon. “Maybe… a little.”

Rhys grinned, clapping Azriel on the back. “Then let’s go. If nothing else, we can make sure they get home safe.”

The three of them headed out, taking to the skies with ease. It wasn’t long before they spotted your apartment building, and as they landed on the rooftop across the street, they were greeted with an unexpected sight.

Bright, colorful lights were flashing from your windows, pulsing in time with the faint thrum of music that could be heard even from outside. It looked more like a nightclub than a place where anyone would be getting a decent night’s sleep.

Cassian stared at the windows, his mouth slightly agape. “What the hell…?”

Rhys raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. “I didn’t know Y/N had a nightclub setup in her apartment.”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed as he took in the scene. “She doesn’t. Or at least, she didn’t.”

Cassian shook his head, his concern deepening. “Come on, just a peek. I’ve got to see what kind of chaos they’ve created.”

They descended to your apartment door, and as they approached, the music grew louder, the flashing lights spilling out from under the doorframe, casting strange, colorful shadows in the hallway.

Rhys knocked, but there was no response. He knocked again, louder this time, but the only sound was the thumping music and muffled voices from inside.

Cassian glanced at the others, a serious expression on his face. “You sure they’re alive in there?”

The three of them exchanged worried looks, and before anyone could suggest otherwise, Cassian stepped forward, bracing his shoulder against the door. “Alright, let’s find out.”

With a firm push, they forced the door open—and were immediately greeted by the sight of complete and utter chaos.

The apartment was a mess, with bottles and snacks strewn everywhere. But what caught their attention was the scene in the living room: Mor and Nesta were on the floor, laughing uncontrollably, while Feyre was perched on top of you on the ground, pinning you down and demonstrating something with far too much enthusiasm.

Mor had one hand on your chest, playfully squeezing your breast, while Nesta’s hands were on either side of your face, her touch light but clearly part of the explanation Feyre was giving.

The moment the door flew open, all four of you turned your heads in perfect synchronization, staring at the doorway with wide, startled eyes.

The guys froze in the entrance, their faces a mix of shock and utter confusion. It was as if they had just walked into another world, one they couldn’t quite make sense of.

Feyre, still on top of you, blinked in surprise, her hands frozen in place. Mor and Nesta, still in their positions, were too drunk to even try to move, their eyes fixed on the three males standing in the doorway.

For a long moment, there was complete silence, the only sound the faint thrum of the music and the distant hum of the lights.

“What the hell…?” Cassian finally managed to mutter, his voice laced with disbelief.

Rhys, his usually calm demeanor shattered, shook his head slowly. “I think we interrupted something… very strange.”

Azriel, for his part, could only stare, his mind trying to process the chaotic scene in front of him. “Should we… come back later?”

The sudden absurdity of the situation hit you all at once, and you burst into laughter, the alcohol-fueled hysteria too strong to resist. Feyre, still on top of you, collapsed onto your chest, shaking with laughter, while Mor and Nesta lost it completely, both of them rolling on the floor as they tried to catch their breath.

The guys, however, remained rooted in place, their expressions still a mix of shock and confusion as they watched the four of you dissolve into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

Cassian was the first to recover, though his voice was still laced with disbelief. “What in the world is going on here?”

Feyre, still laughing, finally managed to roll off you, her face flushed as she wiped at her eyes. “I guess we got a little carried away.”

“A little?” Rhys echoed, his voice flat as he glanced around the room. “This place looks like a warzone.”

Mor, still struggling to sit up, waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, please. We were just having fun!”

Azriel, who had finally managed to close his mouth, walked over to you, his eyes scanning your face for any signs of distress. “Let’s get you home.”

You looked up at him, your smile turning into a confused frown. “But this is my home, Az.”

Feyre, catching your words, let out a snort before dissolving into another fit of laughter. Before long, you were both on the floor, laughing so hard that you could barely breathe, the absurdity of the entire situation hitting you all at once.

Mor, still perched on the floor, threw her head back and screamed with laughter. “This was better than every night at Rita’s I’ve ever had in my life!”

Nesta, who was trying her best to stay composed, finally gave in, collapsing onto the floor beside Mor as the two of them giggled uncontrollably.

The guys, still standing in the doorway, could only watch as the four of you descended into a drunken, giggling mess, their shock slowly giving way to resignation.

Rhys sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Cassian, finally managing a grin, shook his head. “We’re going to have to carry them out of here, aren’t we?”

Azriel, who had gently lifted you to your feet again, just nodded, his concern still evident. “Probably. But at least they had fun.”

---

The chaos of the night had finally started to wind down. Mor and Nesta, still giggling, were being helped out by Rhys and Cassian, who looked more than ready to get everyone home and into bed. But you, still tipsy and more than a little giggly, had managed to cling onto Azriel.

He lifted you effortlessly into his arms, your face nestled against his neck, legs wrapped tightly around his torso. The cool night air hit your skin as he carried you out of the apartment, but you barely noticed, too focused on the warmth of his body and the comforting scent of him surrounding you.

Azriel walked steadily, his wings twitching slightly with every step. You could feel the muscles in his back flex as he held you close, his grip firm yet gentle. Despite how drunk you were, a playful smile tugged at your lips as your breath fanned across his neck.

“You know,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing, “you’re really strong… and warm. Like, really warm.”

Azriel’s chuckle rumbled through his chest, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Good to know,” he replied, his voice taking on a huskier edge. “Are you comfortable?”

You nodded, snuggling closer to him, your breath warm against his neck. “Mmhmm. This is nice. I could stay like this forever.”

He smiled, adjusting his hold on you slightly as he continued walking. “I wouldn’t mind that either. But we should get you home. You had quite the night.”

You sighed, closing your eyes as you rested your head against him. “Yeah… tonight was fun. I think we broke the apartment, though. Sorry about that.”

Azriel shook his head, his smile growing. “Don’t worry about it. It’s your place—you can do whatever you want. And it’s nothing a little cleaning won’t fix.”

There was a brief pause before you giggled, the sound light and airy. “Do you think… do you think Rhys was mad? I didn’t mean to make a mess.”

Azriel’s lips brushed against your temple in a soft kiss. “No, I don’t think he was mad. Maybe a little surprised, but that’s all. He knows you were just having fun.”

You hummed in response, your fingers idly tracing patterns on the back of his neck. “Good. I wouldn’t want to get in trouble… But you know what’s funny?”

“What’s that?” he asked, his tone indulgent as he continued walking.

“I kept thinking,” you whispered, your voice a little more serious now, “that I was so happy tonight… because you weren’t just my mate, but also my best friend.”

Azriel’s heart swelled at your words, and he tightened his grip on you slightly. “I’m happy to hear that,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re my best friend too, you know. I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

You smiled against his neck, feeling a wave of affection wash over you. “You’re so sweet, Az. The best.”

He chuckled again, the sound low and warm. “I’m just being honest. Now let’s get you home, so you can get some rest. You’ve had a long night.”

“Mmhmm. This is very comfortable. I think I’m enjoying this a little too much.”

Azriel’s grip on you tightened slightly, and you could feel the tension in his muscles as he tried to maintain control. “Is that so?”

“Mmm,” you hummed, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the side of his neck. “I’ve always liked being this close to you… feeling you.”

He sucked in a breath, the sound a mixture of surprise and desire. “You’re drunk,” he reminded you gently, though there was a strain in his voice as if he was trying to convince himself more than you.

“Maybe,” you admitted, your lips brushing against his skin as you spoke. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want.”

Azriel’s steps faltered as you reached the townhouse, his heart hammering in his chest. You could feel the way his pulse quickened under your touch, and it only made you more bold. “And what is it you want?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

You smiled against his neck, your teeth grazing his skin ever so lightly. “I want you, Az. Always.”

His breath hitched as he carried you inside, the familiar darkness of the townhouse wrapping around you both. Without a word, he started toward his bedroom, the tension between you crackling like electricity.

He pushed the door open with his foot and crossed the threshold, finally setting you down on the edge of his bed. But before he could step back, you grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him down to you, your lips crashing against his in a fierce, hungry kiss.

Azriel groaned into your mouth, his hands sliding up your thighs to grip your hips, pulling you closer as you leaned back onto the bed, dragging him down with you. His wings flared out behind him, twitching as your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan again.

He pulled back slightly, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he looked down at you, your face flushed, eyes dark with desire. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice thick with need.

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him down to you as your hands slid under his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his chest. “I’m sure,” you whispered against his lips, your voice a sultry invitation.

That was all the encouragement he needed. Azriel’s lips crashed back onto yours, his hands roaming over your body with a possessive hunger. You could feel the heat of his skin against yours as he tore at your clothes, desperate to feel you, to have you.

His hands slid up under your shirt, fingers brushing over your bare skin, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips as he kissed his way down your neck, his breath hot against your skin.

He paused at the hem of your shirt, his eyes dark with desire as he looked up at you. You nodded, and he pulled the fabric over your head, tossing it aside before his mouth descended on your chest, his tongue tracing a path down to your breasts.

You gasped as his lips closed around your nipple, his hand sliding down to the waistband of your pants. With a quick tug, he had them off, leaving you bare beneath him. Azriel’s eyes raked over your body, taking in every curve, every inch of skin as if he were memorizing you.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice reverent as his hands slid down your sides, his lips following the path of his hands.

You reached for him, pulling him back up to you, needing to feel his skin against yours. “I need you,” you whispered, your voice breathless with anticipation.

Azriel shuddered at your words, his lips capturing yours in another searing kiss as he positioned himself above you. He hesitated for just a moment, his gaze searching yours for any sign of doubt, but all he found was desire, love, and a deep, unyielding trust.

With a soft groan, he slid into you, the sensation drawing a gasp from both of you as your bodies finally connected, fitting together perfectly. He moved slowly at first, savoring the feeling of being with you like this, but it wasn’t long before the tension between you became too much to bear.

You moved together, each thrust deepening the connection between you, your moans and gasps filling the room as the pleasure built to a fever pitch. Azriel’s hands roamed over your body, his touch sending shivers of pleasure down your spine as he whispered your name like a prayer.

As you neared the edge, you tightened your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer as you felt the wave of pleasure crashing over you. Azriel followed soon after, his movements becoming erratic as he buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he reached his climax.

For a moment, the world stood still, the only sound the ragged breaths of you and Azriel as you held each other close. Then, slowly, the tension ebbed away, leaving you both in a state of blissful exhaustion.

As you both lay there, catching your breath and basking in the afterglow, a soft giggle escaped your lips. Azriel, still holding you close, raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What’s so funny?” he asked, his voice low and affectionate.

You shifted slightly, a playful glint in your eyes as you rolled over, pushing him onto his back. Azriel let out a surprised laugh, his hands instinctively moving to rest on your hips as you straddled him, your hair falling around your face in a soft curtain.

“What do you have in mind, love?” he asked, his voice filled with a mix of curiosity and desire.

You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Something the girls showed me earlier…”

Azriel’s eyes darkened with intrigue as you began to move your hips in a slow, teasing rhythm, your hands sliding up his chest. He sucked in a breath, his fingers digging into your thighs as he tried to hold on to the last remnants of his control.

“Is that so?” he murmured, his voice rough with anticipation.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, your lips trailing soft kisses down his jawline as you continued to move against him, the friction sending shivers of pleasure through both of you.

Azriel’s hands roamed over your body, his touch growing more desperate as you began to pick up the pace, your hips rolling in a way that had him groaning your name.

“Y/N…” he rasped, his eyes locked onto yours as you took control, guiding him deeper inside you with each movement.

You bit your lip, a mischievous smile playing on your lips as you leaned down to kiss him, your tongue teasing his as your movements became more intense. Azriel’s grip on your hips tightened, his wings flaring out behind him as he struggled to keep up with the pleasure you were giving him.

“What did those girls teach you?” he managed to say between gasps, his voice filled with both awe and amusement.

You just grinned, moving your hips in a way that had him arching off the bed, a deep groan escaping his lips. “Just a little something they thought you might enjoy.”

Azriel’s eyes fluttered closed, his head falling back against the pillow as he surrendered to the sensations you were giving him. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he murmured, though the smile on his face told you he wouldn’t have it any other way.

You chuckled, leaning down to kiss him deeply as you pushed both of you closer to the edge. “Then let’s make it worth it.”

With that, you moved even faster, your bodies moving in perfect sync as the pleasure built to a crescendo. The room was filled with the sound of your moans and gasps, the intensity of the moment taking you both higher and higher until finally, you both shattered together, the waves of pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave.

As you collapsed onto his chest, both of you breathing heavily, Azriel wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you both came down from the high.

“That was…” Azriel began, his voice trailing off as he tried to find the words.

“Amazing?” you offered, your voice still breathless as you snuggled against him.

“Amazing,” he agreed, his lips brushing against your forehead in a tender kiss. “But also… unexpected.”

You giggled, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “Just trying to keep things interesting.”

Azriel smiled, his hands sliding up and down your back in a soothing motion. “You definitely succeeded. But now, I think it’s time for some sleep.”

You nodded, feeling the exhaustion starting to catch up with you. “Yeah… sleep sounds good.”

With a contented sigh, you let your eyes drift closed, still wrapped in Azriel’s warm embrace. And as you drifted off to sleep, a satisfied smile on your lips, you knew that no matter what surprises the night brought, you and Azriel would always find a way to enjoy them together.

---

don't hesitate to comment, I read them ;)

[velaris-fic-repository]

A Little Drunk On You

A/N: Soft, comforting Cassian supremacy!

@starfallweek 2025 March 20th Prompt: Character A has a little too much to drink during the festivities, leaving Character B to take care of them. Or maybe not?

Cassian had experienced stress many times throughout his life, mostly on a battlefield or during missions of some sort. However, he had never felt stress quite like realizing in the winding down of the Starfall party, that he had absolutely no idea where you went.

You who, last he’d checked when you were right next to him - and he could’ve sworn you were a second ago - were very, very drunk.

You two hadn’t been seeing each other for very long but you’d been friends for centuries. You were one of Azriel’s best, having been on what you affectionately nicknamed ‘Vanserra babysitting duty’ when you were stationed in Autumn. You’d gotten too close to that den of vipers though and had to be extracted and retire from your spy duties, using your skill set to aid the Inner Circle in other ways. You had a knack for organization, information and correspondence making you an ideal agent to send in Rhys’ stead for negotiations around the court if he couldn’t be there. You were also an incredible civil servant in Velaris, aiding her citizens however and whenever you could. You even managed volunteering in the theater district. It was kind of impossible for Cassian not to be a little in awe of you.

That didn’t stop him from wanting to protect you. It may have even compounded the problem.

He’d never seen you drunk, or at least never like this. You were swaying before the lights even started falling. He had to find you.

He whipped his head around the room, scanning for any sight or sound from you. Not over there. No. Where were you?

He was about the check another area entirely when he heard it. Your laugh, loud and sharp cutting across the room. He spun, finding you and Mor in equal hysterics, slouching on each other like you were both using the other to hold yourselves up. The only destiny that awaited you two in that configuration was the floor and fate was fast approaching.

Cassian still smiled at the sight as he made quick strides over to the two of you. It was a testament to his strength that he managed to hold the both of you upright with only one hand each.

“You girls having fun?” He asked.

You and Mor’s laughter peetered out as your forehead scrunched in bleary confusion. You stared into your nearly empty drink like it was the Cauldron itself before blinking up, finally catching sight of him.

The grin that split your face squeezed his heart in the best way.

“CASS!” You shouted, sounding the happiest you’ve ever been, and threw your arms around him. Or, at least, you tried to. Cassian had to let go of Mor to open his arms to catch you, the other female slouching back in her chair. You didn’t seem to notice, wrapping your arms around his neck, practically purring.

Cauldron boil him, you were drunk.

You never called him Cass.

Ever.

The only nickname you ever used was Rhys because he had all but commanded you to do so. It was always ‘Cassian’ with you. He had to get you home, now. He couldn’t stand to think of what might’ve happened if you were by yourself. He knew most of the people at this party, but there were some males he didn’t know. His eyes sliced daggers around the room at the thought.

“Cass,” you slurred, playing with a lock of his hair, “what’s wrong? You look like Azzy.”

Cassian paled. ‘Azzy’ had been your boss for centuries. You were on friendlier terms now with the career change, but you’d be caught dead before you let anyone hear you call him that.

Cassian swallowed, looking down at you with a comforting, if not a little nervous, smile, and said, “Nothing’s wrong sweetheart. I just want to take you home and take care of you, okay?”

You looked down, forehead scrunching again as if thinking was difficult. “Okay,” you said, looking up at him, sound in your drunken decision.

“Okay,” he said slowly, pulling you up and wrapping his arms around your shoulders from behind, his wings and body a shield against the world.

“Have fun!” Mor, who was not as drunk as Cassian thought she’d been, called from her chair, taking the remnants of your drink Cassian had deposited on a nearby table.

You giggled - actually giggled - and nuzzled into Cassian even as you walked. Mother spare him.

Flying you down to the apartment you kept in Velaris, just on the edge of your beloved theater district, was tricky. It took longer than Cassian had expected it to, but it did him a world of good knowing he was the one getting you back safe. What? Who said that?

You were adorably stubborn. Attempting to push him in your sluggish state when he tried to unlock the door for you. Insisting on being a good host when you both got inside. Arguing that you were, “not as think as you drunk I am,” and that you were well and fully capable of taking care of yourself.

Cassian laughed, not mockingly, but in honeyed amusement. “I know, sweetheart. But I want to take care of you. Let me do this okay?”

You faltered, and Cassian saw a flicker of clarity in your eyes. He grinned, recognizing that even inebriated as you were, his words could still strike the heart of you like this. You settled back into your subdued state of being from before just as quickly, but you allowed him to care for you this time.

“You’ll want to drink this water, it’ll help you feel better in the morning.”

“Eat some of this, sweetheart. It doesn’t have to be a lot. Just have a little of it.”

“I’m going to wait outside, change into these pjs, and get me when you’re done. I’ll be right here.”

It wasn’t long before you poked your head out the bedroom door and Cassian let himself inside. You were tired, babbling nonsense at this point, as he pulled you to the bed.

He helped you down onto the mattress and tucked you in nice, snug and comfy. You smiled lazily up at him as he leaned down pressing the softest kiss on your forehead. Heart eyes looked down on you for half a moment before he crossed to the door to leave, half sure you would be asleep by the time he got there.

“Cass,” you said, panic pushing through your grogginess. It only seemed to ease a bit when he turned around.

“Stay,” you pleaded like it wouldn’t melt his heart on the spot.

“Sure, sweetheart. Sure thing.”

He carefully removed the covers on the other side of the bed and squeezed into the small space, trying to not disturb your comfort while creating a tiny amount of his own.

When he fully settled, facing you, he brushed a hand over the side of your face and kissed your forehead again. “See? I’m not going anywhere.”

You hummed softly, closing your eyes. He watched you a second longer, then did the same.

A contented sigh from you, and then you said, “Thank you, Cassian.”

Hmm. He sighed like you had, settling down after a night of revelry.

This was nice.

Hmm.

Hmmm.

Wait a fucking second.

He opened his eyes to see you grinning wickedly at him, your eyes decidedly not foggy and your countenance the exact opposite of what you had been moments before. Puzzle pieces clicked in his brain as your grin grew wider.

“W- You were faking?!”

The question drew full body cackles from you as you sat up, the covers moving with you and pooling at your waist. Cassian followed at a break neck pace.

“What!? Explain!”

“Mor and I thought it would be a good idea!”

“What- how- how did- how did you do that?”

You smiled at him with a quirked eyebrow, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’m one of the best spies your brother’s ever had and I regularly work with and around actors, dear. How do you think I did it? I knew there were a few things that you’d never think I’d say. If I threw those in, along with typical drunken behavior, you’d believe it.”

Cassian continued to make sputtering noises, so you explained further.

“I approached Mor with the idea and she thought it would be funny. I just wanted to see what you would do. You were even sweeter than I thought.” You turned your attention down to the sheets, drawing little shapes with your finger, avoiding his eyes.

The surprise finally dissipated from Cassian’s brain. A wolfish grin spread across his face. He brought his hand up, cupping your chin and pulling your attention to him.

“What I’m hearing,” he said, low and dangerously joyful, “is that you wanted my attention.”

To his delight, instead of cowering, you met him. “I always want your attention.”

He smirked, eyes flicking to the bed below you and back up. “We’re in a bed right now, and you aren’t under the influence anymore…”

You chuckled and he fought the urge to chase the sound. “I’m a little under the influence, it wasn’t all fake. The water and food definitely helped.”

“Well, I’m a little under the influence too.”

“On what?” you said, “I don’t remember watching you drink anything at all tonight.”

“I’m always a little drunk on you, sweetheart.”

And what could you do but kiss him about it?

[starksweasley]

Night Out // Rhysand

Summary: In which you get drunk while dancing with your favorite people and Rhysand can't keep his eyes off of you (fluff)

Word Count: 1725

The music pulsed through the dimly lit club, wrapping around you like a heartbeat. Bodies swayed and moved, the energy electric as you danced with Feyre and Mor in the center of it all. The bass seemed to sync with the rhythm of your steps, your arms thrown up as laughter spilled from your lips, carefree and intoxicating. Feyre twirled you with a grin, and Mor pressed her back to yours, her hands grazing your arms as she matched your movements, her golden hair catching the light.

At the edge of the dance floor, you could feel Rhysand’s gaze on you. His dark eyes followed every sway of your hips, every twist of your body, and you caught his smirk whenever you turned your head his way. Across the room, Amren sat perched on a barstool, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd while Azriel leaned beside her, sipping a glass of something dark. Cassian and Rhys were locked in a drinking game, each trying to outdo the other, their competitive banter carrying over the music. Cassian’s boisterous laughter boomed as Rhys finally downed his drink and slammed the glass down with a triumphant grin.

As the song changed, you broke away from Feyre and Mor, your body still moving with the beat, the sway of your hips exaggerated just enough to be playful as you caught Rhys’s attention. His smirk widened as you approached, his dark eyes dragging over you like a caress, lingering on the glow of your flushed cheeks and the curve of your smile. Without hesitation, you reached for his hand, your fingers tangling with his as you tugged him onto the dance floor with a laugh that was half a dare, half a plea for him to join your revelry.

“Don’t tell me you’re too dignified to dance,” you teased, your voice loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Never,” he murmured, his hands settling on your waist as he pulled you close. His touch was steady, grounding you even as the world spun in a blur of lights and sound. You moved together, your bodies perfectly in sync, his hips brushing against yours with each sway. The heat between you was tangible, your hair whipping back as you tilted your head to laugh, the motion exposing your neck to the cool air. His hands slid from your waist to the small of your back, pressing you closer until there was no space left between you. Sweat glistened on your skin, but neither of you cared, lost in the rhythm and each other. His breath was hot against your ear as he leaned in, murmuring something low and teasing that made your pulse race. When he spun you unexpectedly, your laughter rang out, pure and unrestrained, and his smirk softened into something tender as he steadied you again, his hands lingering possessively on your hips.

By the time you all reconvened at a bar table, your cheeks were flushed, your hair slightly mussed from dancing, and your steps had gained a noticeable sway that betrayed just how much you’d had to drink. Amren sipped her drink with a raised brow, clearly unimpressed by the chaotic energy of her companions.

Cassian was halfway through telling an exaggerated story about how he “almost won” against Rhys, gesturing wildly with his hands and sloshing his drink onto the table in the process. Feyre burst out laughing, dodging the spill as she swatted at him. “Cassian, you’re worse than a toddler.”

“Toddlers wish they were as handsome as me,” Cassian shot back, winking at her before continuing his tale with even more embellishment.

Azriel, ever quiet, smirked into his glass as Mor leaned over his shoulder, trying to swipe it. He pulled it away just in time, earning a dramatic groan from her. “Az, come on! Sharing is caring!”

“Not tonight,” he replied, his voice smooth as silk, and Mor stuck her tongue out at him before leaning back in her chair.

Rhys’s arm draped over your shoulders as he leaned into your space, his voice low. “You’re having fun, aren’t you?”

You turned to him, your smile wide and unsteady, poking his chest with a finger. “I’m having the best time. And guess what? Cassian’s beating you at drinking games.”

Rhys raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “I let him win.”

“That’s what losers say!” you declared loudly, earning a cackle from Mor and another round of laughter from Feyre. Cassian, overhearing, puffed up his chest. “Damn right, I won! You’re just jealous, Rhysand.”

Rhys rolled his eyes, but his attention stayed on you, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder. “And you,” he murmured, leaning in so only you could hear, “are entirely too drunk.”

“I’m not drunk!” you protested, the words slightly slurred as you jabbed a finger at his chest for emphasis. “I’m… perfectly fine. Totally steady.”

“Is that so?” he replied. His lips twitched in amusement but he didn't argue further.

Eventually, the group began to disperse, and Rhys practically had to drag you away from your friends, your protests slurred and cheerful as you tried to convince him to stay for just one more drink. "They need me!" you exclaimed, pointing vaguely in the direction of Mor and Feyre, who were still laughing at one of Cassian’s wild stories. Rhys shook his head, a mix of exasperation and delight lighting his features as he took your hand firmly. The cool night air was a relief after the heat of the club, and you stumbled slightly, giggling as your shoes pinched your feet.

“Take these,” you said, pulling them off and handing them to Rhys. He took them with a laugh, slinging them over his shoulder.

“You’re a menace, you know that?” he teased, steadying you with a hand on your back, his thumb brushing a soothing circle over your spine.

“A lovable menace,” you corrected, your grin wide and unrepentant, leaning into him just slightly as you stumbled on the uneven cobblestones. He caught you effortlessly, his other hand curling around your arm to steady you.

When you reached a fountain in the square, you couldn’t resist climbing onto its edge. The moonlight shimmered on the water, and you stretched your arms out as though it were a tightrope, your steps exaggerated and wobbly. Rhys followed a few steps behind, watching you attentively.

“Be careful,” he warned, his tone indulgent but his hand ready to catch you if needed.

“I’m fine,” you started to say, your words tumbling together, just before your foot slipped. You toppled into the water with a loud yelp, the cold splash shocking you into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. You sputtered as you pushed your hair out of your face, looking up to see Rhys standing on the edge, his hands on his hips, shaking his head with mock disapproval.

“Serves you right,” he said, though his grin betrayed him as he stepped closer. When he extended a hand to help you up, you grabbed it with both of yours—and promptly yanked him into the fountain after you.

The indignant noise he made sent you into another round of laughter, your sides aching as he surfaced, spluttering and drenched. The water glistened on his midnight-black hair, dripping down his sharp jaw and collarbone. He splashed you in retaliation, his playful grin softening as he caught your gaze.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, his tone laced with affection as his hands found your waist, steadying you as the ripples in the water settled. His thumbs brushed over your wet skin, a soft, grounding touch as your laughter faded.

“And yet you love me,” you said, tilting your head up at him, water droplets clinging to your lashes.

“More than you know,” he admitted gently, his gaze dropping to your lips. He kissed you then, slow and sweet, the world around you fading into nothing but the feel of his hands and the cool water surrounding you.

By the time you made it home, you were still giggling, your clothes damp and sticking to your skin. Rhys set your shoes down by the door and helped you out of your wet jacket, his eyes full of fond exasperation.

“I want you,” you murmured, your hands fumbling at the buttons of his shirt as you tugged him closer, your fingers clumsy but insistent.

“You’re drunk,” he said gently, though his lips brushed your forehead as his hands stilled yours, his thumbs tracing circles over the backs of your hands.

“So?” you pouted, leaning into him stubbornly. “I’m not that drunk, Rhys. Just a little… tipsy.” Your voice was petulant, and your lower lip jutted out in a way that made him chuckle.

“You can’t even say the word tipsy without slurring it,” he teased, brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face. “And I’m not taking advantage of you in this state.”

You groaned dramatically, flopping against his chest. “You’re impossible! I’m perfectly fine. You just don’t want me!”

“Don’t even try that,” he said, his voice laced with amusement as he guided you to sit on the edge of the bed. “You know I want you more than anything, but not like this. Tomorrow, love, when you’re sober, you can yell at me all you want.”

Your pout deepened, and you crossed your arms. “You’re no fun.”

“I’m plenty fun,” he countered, kneeling to wipe your makeup off with a gentle touch. “You just don’t remember how much fun because you’ve had too many drinks.”

You squinted at him as he slid you into one of his shirts, the fabric soft and familiar. “Fine, but only because I’m tired. And you better be ready for me tomorrow.”

He laughed, settling beside you and pulling you into his arms. “I’ll be ready, menace. Now sleep.”

You let out a soft hum of protest, pushing him flat onto the bed and flopping down on top of him, your limbs sprawled out like a starfish. “This is comfy,” you mumbled into his chest, your words muffled but content. Rhys chuckled, his hands coming to rest on your back, stroking soothing circles.

“You’re ridiculous,” he said, though the smile in his voice was undeniable. “But I guess I’ll allow it.”

“Goodnight, menace,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your hair as your breathing evened out, and sleep claimed you.

[weirdlookindog]

Jaroslav Panuška (1872–1958) - Mor (Plague), 1903

[eospaint]

mor saving feyre

[purecommemasolitude]

the sheer absurdity of le bien qui fait mal can never be overstated. the fact that salieri has a classical music-induced homoerotic bdsm hallucination in front of god the audience and everyone for three full minutes. the fact that his relationship with mozart, as far as is known, wasn't actually SUPPOSED to be gay. the fact that it became an ensemble song on the soundtrack so everyone gets to sing about wanting mozart('s music) carnally despite the song being a salieri solo. can i redirect your attention to the fact that they decided the best way to convey salieri's jealousy of mozart's compositional abilities was a three-minute bdsm extended metaphor. this is his FIRST song. he has BARELY been introduced as a character. we don't know anything about his psyche but we do know he wants mozart to [redacted] [redacted] [redacted]

[potatoplace]

Forever

The Afterthought: Chapter 7 | series masterlist

Azriel x Archeron!Reader

chapter 6 | chapter 8 | ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist

Summary: The day after your first date is spent gossiping with Mor, being gently harassed by your coworkers over your new relationship, and with the male you want to spend your future with.

Warnings: slightly shitty Rhys mention, I honestly don't think there's anything else!

Words: ~5.5k

Author's Note: god DAMN did it take me forever to get this one out 😭 I'm glad I can finally deliver some good fackin food! (Not that I haven't loved working on all my other fics lol) Loooots of cute fluffiness in this chapter, I hope you guys like it!! 🫶 Title from the Chelsea Cutler song

18+ only pls

🤍💙💘💙🤍

You’d just taken off you makeup and cleansed your skin when a letter from Mor showed up with a soft pop on your kitchen table.

You managed to decipher it after a minute on your own, something that you were immensely proud of. Her perfect handwriting read:

How did the date go?? Where did you go for dinner? What did you talk about? Did he kiss you?? Tell me everything, write back on this paper and once you fold it, it will send itself back to me! - Love, Mor

Your nose wrinkled as you thought about writing her back, your own penmanship far more clumsy, even with how much you had been practicing. But you did anyways, not wanting to disappoint your friend.

It was perfect, we went to an Illyrian restaurant for dinner. HE KISSED ME!! Can you come over at 7 to talk? - Love you, Y/N

Your fingers carefully folded the paper along the crease once more, and watched with amazement as it vanished from your hands immediately.

Less than a minute later the paper returned, Mor having written: YES! I’ll bring breakfast and YOU can tell me everything!

You giggled to yourself, so unbelievably happy to have not only a friend who cared about your romantic life, but also having a romantic life! With Azriel no less!

At the sound of your laughter, M’aiq ran over and brushed against your leg, meowing loudly for food. You’d fed her dinner before you left for your date, but here she was, screaming at you like she was starved. “Silly girly, you have to wait until morning,” you said as you bent down to pick her up, her tiny claws catching slightly on your nightgown. She meowed at you with all her might as you cradled her in your arms, her tiny paws resting on your hand as you pet her tummy. “You’re very cute and very mighty, and I’m tempted to feed you more because of that. But you’ll be fine, I promise.” You nuzzled your nose against her cheek, listening to her purr. “Or are you asking me how the date was?” She purred louder at that suggestions, and you giggled again. “Okay, I’ll tell you about it,” You said as you sat in your armchair, letting the roaring fire keep you warm as you gushed to M’aiq about the date, petting her tiny head and tummy all the while.

Eventually, though, you forced yourself from the chair and into your bed, carefully setting a sleeping M’aiq onto the pillow next to yours that had become quickly become hers.

You fell asleep snuggled into the blankets, one hand still placed on M’aiq.

🤍❤️🤍💙🤍

“Wake UP!”

That was your only warning before Mor flung herself on top of you, forcing the air from your lungs in one go.

“Oh my gods, Mor!”

Mor’s maniacal giggling was the answer you got as Mor flopped to the other side of the bed and off of you, your eyes flying open in panic.

“Did you squish M’aiq?!” You asked frantically as you turned to see Mor inspecting her nails.

“No, I didn’t squish M’aiq,” she reassured you. “She bolted straight under the bed the moment I winnowed in, otherwise I wouldn’t have squished you like that.”

You shook your head, even as a smile crept onto your face. “Oh, you won’t squish M’aiq but you’ll squish me?” You asked, letting fake offence seep into your tone.

“Uh, yes, you would cry if I squished M’aiq, but you? You have information that I want! Tell me all about the date while we do our skincare, yeah?” Mor asked as she stood up from your bed, looking expectantly at you.

You nodded and flung the covers back, scrunching your nose at the cold air. Your slippers and dressing gown fixed that easily, and you followed Mor into your bathroom.

“So, how was it?” Mor asked excitedly as she patted her face dry.

“It was…” You sighed dreamily. “It was everything I could have hoped for, honestly. We went to this small Illyrian restaurant in the Palace of Thread and Jewels, the food was amazing, We talked a lot about when we were younger, he told me a few funny stories about Cassian and Rhysand,” you giggled. “And we realized that we both thought we had been extremely obvious with our affections, but neither of us noticed.”

“Well, I noticed,” Mor laughed. “I swear, when Azriel can’t see you at least once a week, he becomes the crankiest little Spymaster. And you get so blushy and shy around him, it’s so cute!”

Color dusted your cheeks at her words. “…Does he really get upset?”

Mor burst into laughter. “He does! He went off on Keir so many times, it was amazing! How was the rest of the date? Did you do anything else?” She asked as the two of you moved from the bathroom to the dining table, settling down in front of the pastries and tea that Mor had brought.

You couldn’t help but smile as you thought of how the date ended. “Well, he walked me home along the Sidra, but while we were I heard this lovely music, and in the dim lights and with the snow it was…” You let out a breath. “It was perfect. We danced to the music-”

“Azriel danced?” Mor asked incredulously, and you blinked at her, confused.

“Yes? Is that… Does he not normally dance?”

Mor shook her head. “He knows how to, he’s just… Always avoided it, whenever he could. I’m not sure exactly why, I think he might just be shy. Or… Maybe he just didn’t have the right partner!” Mor squealed, and you blushed again.

“Well either way, we danced for a bit, and then when we got to my door he kissed me,” You whispered. “It was… I’ve never been kissed before but I can’t imagine any other kiss ever measuring up.”

Mor was holding her hands to her cheeks, a huge grin splitting her face. “Oh mother, you are in love!” You smacked her lightly, your cheeks cherry red now.

“Shut up!”

“No, I can’t! My best friend is in love with my other best friend! Do you know how cute the two of you are together?”

You rolled your eyes at her and took a sip of your tea. “You haven’t even seen us together since we’ve been dating, Mor.”

“I don’t need to see you two together to know that you’re the cutest couple in Velaris! That is, until I finally get a chance to ask out the adorable Illyrian that Nesta is friends with,” Mor sighed. “Any other details about the night that you want to share with me?” She asked, waggling her brows at you suggestively.

"Mor. We kissed, and that’s all!” You insisted, placing the back of your hands on your cheeks in an attempt to cool them. “And that’s all that will happen, unless we get married.”

“See! You’re in looove, already thinking about getting married to Azriel,” Mor giggled.

You shot her a glare, but the smile that forced its way onto your face ruined the effect. “Mor,” you groaned.

Mor snickered at you, but relented. “Fine, fine. Do you know when you’re seeing him next?”

You nodded, your smile growing. “He’s picking me up after I get off work tonight.”

“Cute! I have a feeling it’s going to be tough keeping Azriel in the Hewn City through the elections.” Mor glanced to the clock, sighing when she saw the time. “I have to get going, I’ve got a meeting with Rhys in ten minutes and he’ll be pissed if I show up late again.”

“How many times have you been late?” You asked as you walked her to the door, Mor waving excitedly at M’aiq, whose head poking out from under the bed.

“I’ve lost track,” Mor laughed. “Especially recently, if he’s going to keep me in the Hewn City most of the time, I’m entitled to being late, I think.”

“I think you’re right, Mor. Will I be seeing you tomorrow?”

“Yes, I should be in town a bit after you usually get off of work. But…” Mor fished something out of her pockets: two blank pieces of paper. “I wanted you to have these! They’re both spelled to be sent after being folded like the letter I sent to you yesterday, and all messages are erased ten minutes after being opened. One of them is spelled to go to me, and the other is spelled to go to Azriel. I thought it would be nice for you to have a way to communicate with us, without needing magic.”

You grinned at the blonde standing in your doorway. “Thank you, Mor, this is amazing! And I’m sure you have no ulterior motives, like getting information on my and Azriel’s dates?”

“Oh, of course not, I just thought you might like to have someone to gush about him to,” Mor said with a wink. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N!”

“I’ll see you then, Mor. Have a good day!”

“You as well!” Mor called out from halfway down the staircase.

You shut your front door and giggled when M’aiq came trotting over, meowing insistently at you. “Yeah, you could have been fed earlier if you’d been a little braver, Eeky. Let’s get your breakfast started,” you said after setting the papers down on your kitchen table, trading them for your soft, fluffy child. “Do you want to watch me cook it today?”

Her loud meow was enough of an answer for you, so you set her on the counter next to the stove while you pulled a bit of beef out of the cold box. The rest of your morning passed by quickly, between cutting the meat and making sure M’aiq stayed out of the heating pan, and later keeping her from eating straight out of it. Soon enough, she was munching away after you’d set her and her food bowl on the ground.

You went about the rest of your routine, applying a light layer of pink eyeshadow and a bit of blush before getting dressed, choosing a pale purple dress, its sleeves reaching just past your elbow and the hem reaching your ankles. The matching sash around your waist was tied into a bow at your lower back, showing more of your figure than you usually did, especially at work.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t chose it knowing that Azriel would be picking you up from work later that day, your mind already stuck on how he might react to it. The whole walk to work you thought about it, nearly slipping on two separate patches of ice, you were so distracted. Somehow, you managed to safely make it to Sevenda’s on time, your outerwear hung up in the tiny breakroom just as the clock hit nine.

“Oh, someone looks nice today,” Josi remarked as you slid on your apron, her hands already chopping onions.

“Thank you, Josi,” you said with a smile, tying off your apron and moving to the sink to clean your hands.

“You have a hot date later, Y/N?” Torma asked, making heat rush to your cheeks. “Oh! You do! Who is it, tell us who it is!”

You laughed nervously as you finished drying your hands, facing your coworkers with your flushed cheeks. “It’s no one, really,” you said quietly, readying your workstation for the day. You would be handling the preparation of the meats today, a task you’d only just recently earned enough trust to do on your own.

“It’s not no one, just tell us who it is,” Josi begged from your left. “Please?”

You shook your head, pulling out a large piece of beef that you’d be carving up. “I don’t want to talk about it yet, we’ve only been on one date.”

“Ah, new love,” Torma sighed. “Whoever it is, they better treat you right, Y/N.”

You couldn’t fight the smile that slid onto your face. “He treats me perfectly,” you said softly.

Josi and Torma continued to ask questions about your mystery suitor, determined to guess who it is through your answers by the end of the day. The two of them never failed to make your day fly by, their cheery attitudes and kind words always making your day better.

As your shift drew to a close, though, your eyes kept flicking up to the clock, wishing for once that the minutes would pass by more quickly.

If Josi or Torma noticed, neither of them mentioned it. Either way, you were glad no one had pointed out how antsy you were, waiting to leave.

Five minutes before five o’clock, Sevenda popped her head into the kitchen, locking eyes with you. “Y/N, you have a guest out front when you’re done,” she said with a knowing smile and a wink before disappearing back into the front of house.

“Oh, would that guest happen to be your male?” Josi giggled, her and Torma’s eyes following you as you cleaned up your space and washed up quickly.

“I think it is, look at how fast she’s moving! Normally you never want to leave us, Y/N, is that going to change?” Torma asked with a pout.

“No, that won’t change,” you laughed as you dried your hands. “I just happen to be meeting him right after work today.” You went into the breakroom and put on your cloak and scarf, sliding your mittens on as you walked into the front of house, your eyes instantly drawn to the Illyrian lingering near the doorway.

He noticed you in the same moment, his hazel eyes softening when they landed on you. A few of his shadows slunk over to you, wrapping themselves around your legs and ankles, and judging by his expression he hadn’t asked them to do so. You walked up to him, your eyes finally registering that he was holding a lovely bouquet of red camellias and azaleas.

He had picked such romantic flowers for you, both today and last night, it was making your head spin.

“Good afternoon, Y/N,” he greeted, pressing a soft kiss to each of your cheeks, your face flaming when he pulled away. Azriel pressed the bouquet into your hands gently. “I brought you these, I thought you might like them.”

“I love them, thank you Az,” you said, a grin on your face as you smelled them. “Should we go?”

“Yes, I was think-”

“No way!” Josi squealed from behind you. “Torma, you owe me twenty marks!”

“Nice, Y/N, you got the Shadowsinger!” Torma cheered from the back of the restaurant. “You two are so cute together!”

You smiled apologetically up at Azriel, your cheeks now red from embarrassment. “Goodbye,” you said loudly to the two of them, noticing that even Wren was peeking out from the kitchen, shaking your head at their antics.

The two of you left the restaurant, the chill of winter sinking into your skin a bit. “You were saying something before my coworkers interrupted you?”

“Ah.” Azriel rubbed the back of his head, and in the remaining sunlight you could see his cheeks were lightly dusted with pink. “I thought that we could go to the markets to get ingredients for dinner, and I could cook for you at your apartment.”

You couldn’t help the smile that formed at his suggestion, and you quickly nodded in agreement. “That sounds lovely, Az. Though I’d like to insist on helping you cook.”

“And I would like to insist that you allow me to cook for you myself, just this once,” he requested softly. Azriel smiled down at you as he grabbed your hand, a few of his shadows floating over to your other and disappearing with your bouquet, presumably taking it to your apartment. He slowly led you to the Palace of Bone and Salt, his grip being the only thing keeping you upright on more than one occasion.

Shopping went by quickly with Azriel at your side, your heart racing and cheeks flushed at all times from his presence. When the streets grew crowded, Azriel guided you through the groups of people with a considerate hand on your lower back, his other arm managing to carry everything he’d purchased for dinner.

He still had yet to tell you what he was making, or agree that you could help.

By the time you returned to your apartment, the sun had thrown lovely oranges and pinks into the sky, matching the lovestruck mood you were in from Azriel’s mere presence. You led Azriel up to your apartment, opening your front door slowly to be certain that M’aiq was unable to make an escape - not that you expected her to, with how frightened she seemed to be of anything and anyone new.

“M’aiq, we’re home!” You called out into the room, spying her green eyes glinting in the light from under your bed, a smile gracing your lips. “You know him, cutie pie,” you giggled as you watched her eyes lock onto Azriel’s form, her body slinking just a bit further into the shadows. You rolled your eyes and turned your gaze to Azriel, who had taken off his boots and was already entering the kitchen with the groceries.

Your own winter gear came off quickly, shoes replaced with fuzzy slippers. It took you mere seconds to be by his side, curiously taking note of everything he’d bought - you could hardly remember what you’d stopped for, with your head and heart buzzing from getting to spend so much time with Azriel, even if it was only grocery shopping.

“So, what are we making?” You asked, letting your right hand brush against his left ever so slightly.

“I am making a chicken stir-fry for us,” Azriel responded, a gentle kiss placed to the crown of your head right after. “And you, my dear, will be sitting either at the table or on the couch.”

Your lips slid into a pout - that just wouldn’t do.

“But I want to help,” you whined, laying your head against his shoulder. “Please?”

Azriel sighed. “You can help next time, Y/N. But I would love if you would give me the chance to make you a meal, all on my own.”

Your heart soared at his offer - he would love to cook for you - and you couldn’t help but smile, especially when you saw his lips tilted a the corners, his eyes hopeful as he looked down at you.

“Fine,” you gave in.  “Do you need help finding anything?”

“No, love, I’ve got it covered. You just go take a seat, and I’ll bring you a pot of tea in a moment.”

You took a seat, a playful pout on your lips. You appreciated the gesture, but you really would enjoy cooking with him again.

You’ll have as many times as you want to cook with him after this, you reminded yourself, a smile coming to your lips at the thought.

You could cook with him whenever youwantednow that you were dating, so long as he was in the city.

That train of thought had you so entangled that you only realized Azriel had brought you a pot of tea when he pressed a kiss to your forehead, a soft look in his eyes when he pulled away. “What are you thinking about, love?”

Your cheeks flamed from the nickname - how could something so simple be so perfect? “Just… How we can do this all the time, now,” you admitted shyly.

Azriel nodded. “Yes we can, Y/N. And we will, whenever we have the time,” he promised before bending down to kiss you gently, leaving you breathless.

“Good,” you managed to say, grinning up at him before watching him turn back to the stove. “How was your day?”

“Oh, not too bad,” Azriel replied as he began cutting the chicken, having already prepared all of the vegetables while you had been fantasizing about your future with him. “Most of my day will happen when I go back to the Hewn City, so I’m incredibly grateful to spend the beginning of it with you. You are much preferred company to any of the citizens I have to interact with there, love.”

Would your cheeks always be pink around him?

“I’m glad you get to spend it with me too,” you said as you took a sip of your tea, which his shadows had kindly poured out for you - one of your favorites, a pink rose green tea. “Do you know when you’ll stop having to be there as much?”

Azriel hummed thoughtfully as he transferred the chicken to the pan. “I believe in three weeks things will be a bit more settled, and I won’t have to spend every night there.”

Three weeks. You could handle that.

You stood from your chair and made your way over to him, watching as he moved the chicken around the pan. “Three weeks? That isn’t too bad.”

Azriel turned to look at you, a wing curling slightly around your back to touch your arm. “Three weeks will be torture, knowing that I could have been spending every day with you,” he admitted quietly, your heart fluttering at the sincerity of his tone, the truth in his hazel eyes. “You have no idea how many times I’ve almost caused a problem with Keir when he was holding me up from leaving,” Azriel sighed.

“I think only Keir would mind if he got hit in the face,” you giggled, knowing how awful he was, even to his own daughter. One of your hands was slowly creeping over to the spoon he was using to stir.

Azriel let out a soft snort. “That may be true, but I’d prefer to spend time with you over teaching him a lesson.” Hazel eyes darted down, catching you in the act and using a scarred hand to pick yours up and bring the back of it to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss there. “Now, go sit down and enjoy your tea love.”

You stuck your lips out into a pout. “But I want to help,” you whined.

“And you agreed that you wouldn’t help this time. So, will you sit down? Or do my shadows need to help you?” Azriel asked, and your cheeks flushed bright red.

“I can sit down,” you sighed before turning back to the table and reluctantly taking a seat. You took a deep sip of tea, aware of the shadows that had stretched away from Azriel slightly. You almost felt like they were staring at you, making sure you didn’t leave your seat.

It was likely, you supposed, since Azriel was able to spy on people with them. Then again, you weren’t really sure.

“How do the shadows work?” you blurted out, hoping it wasn’t a rude question.

Azriel turned around, a surprised look on his face. “You… You want to know about them?” he asked neutrally.

"I... Yes. They’re a part of you, right?”

His lips tilted up, just a tiny bit, at the corners. “Yes, and no. They’ve been with me so long that we feel like one, but they have minds of their own. That’s why one has been following you around secretly without my permission for over a year.” His eyes locked onto a place by your feet, where a small shadow slunk out from underneath the hem of your dress.

“I- What?” you asked, worried about what that meant.

Azriel shook his head quickly, and his words dispelled any notions your brain had been creating. “I have received absolutely no information from them, when they follow you, I swear. They just… Wanted to keep an eye on you,” he said sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck, turning quickly to the pan to keep the chicken from burning. “I hope that you aren’t offended by it, I truly did attempt to make them stop.”

You pursed your lips together, trying to keep a giggle in. “They can… They can disobey you?”

“I don’t normally let people know that, but yes,” Azriel sighed. “They’re very stubborn, when they think I’m wrong.” He began stirring in the vegetables he’d cut, pouring a delicious smelling sauce over them as he did.

“They thought you were wrong? About what?” You asked with a furrowed brow.

You just barely noticed the way Azriel’s wings stiffened at the question, barely heard the quiet answer he gave to your question.

“About me… Giving you space.”

Giving me space? Space from what?

“Rhys…” Azriel groaned, stepping away from the stove. “Mother, it’s so stupid! Rhys told me not to approach you romantically, after he told me off for having feelings for Elain-” he seemed to have noticed his mistake the moment he said it, turning to look at you with horror in his eyes. “Oh gods, Y/N, I never had feelings for your sister, Rhys just had it in his head that I did because I was helping her recover as he and Feyre had asked of me,” he rushed out quickly, your brain struggling to make sense of the sudden onslaught of information. “Truly, since I’ve met you, I’ve had no interest in anyone else romantically, Y/N, you have to believe me,” Azriel begged when you were silent for a moment, getting on his knees in front of you, his wings folded behind him.

You had never felt that Azriel cared for Elain, beyond that of a friend. But, knowing that someone else had thought he had…

“I believe you, Az. I do,” you said quietly. “But… What changed your mind? About giving me space, I mean.”

Azriel let out a relieved sigh, giving you a gentle, reassuring hug before returning to the stove reluctantly. “Well… You. I had thought you were adjusting well to life in Velaris, but on Bounty Day… I realized that your support system wasn’t giving you the proper support, and I could have been contributing all along.” The shadow that was still at the hem of your dress rushed up to his face, poking him on the ear, almost scoldingly before he let out an amused huff. “Yes, also you, little one,” he said with an affectionate eyeroll, smiling when the shadow brushed against his cheek before returning to you, this time settling around your wrist.

“Well… I’m glad that you had someone to talk some sense into you,” you giggled before standing from your chair and going behind him, placing your face between his wings and wrapping your arms as far around him as you could, almost getting your fingers to touch. He stiffened in your hold for a brief moment before relaxing, a hand coming to rest over yours.

“Me too,” he whispered.

He let you stand behind him, arms wrapped around him tightly the rest of the time he was cooking, his shadows happily encircling the two of you.

The meal he made you was perfect, made with just the right amount of spice for you and oh so filling. Az even insisted on washing up while you sat on the couch in front of a blazing fire, attempting to lure M’aiq out from under your bed.

“Will you come out for food?” you begged, grinning when her ears perked up, eyes locking onto yours instead of where Azriel was standing in the kitchen. “Please, little noodle?” She let out a tiny meow and took a few brave steps towards you, and you took the opportunity to stand and scoop her up. “Thank you, now let’s get you some food!”

A few of Azriel’s shadows darted over to you and M’aiq, hovering curiously around her before backing away after she hissed, making her displeasure very known. You set her on the counter before pulling some steak from the fridge for her - her newest favorite.

You set to preparing her dinner, hyper-aware of Azriel standing near you at the sink, the very edges of his wing brushing you every now and then, his shadows lazily floating between the two of you. You’d just gotten the meat in a pan when Azriel finished at the sink, stepping aside a bit to let you wash your hands. He still had your hand towel when you finished, wrapping your hands in it softly and drying them for you.

In a moment of bravery you stood on your tip-toes, pressing your lips to his briefly before pulling away, only for Az to pull you back, his mouth covering yours sweetly until you heard metal rattling.

You turned to see M’aiq, one paw on the steak in the pan as she tried, and failed, to grab a slice from the pan. “M’aiq!” you yelped, moving out of Azriel’s hold to pull her away from possible danger. “You impatient little girl! You can wait five more minutes,” you said as you held her up to your face, shaking your head at her behavior. She was set on the counter to your left, away from the hot pan and thankfully staying put, now that your eyes were on her again.

You had just started to stir the meat when Azriel came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your torso and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head before resting his chin on it. For the next four minutes, you were sure that you looked an idiot, smiling so widely at a mere hug.

But you didn’t care.

Because it was Azriel.

And if you could spend every moment with him? You were sure that you would.

For now, though, you could settle for any amount of time with the perfect, caring male behind you.

Once M’aiq was fed, you couldn’t help but feel your time with him drawing to a close for the night, your heart aching already at the prospect. But you let him lead you back over to the couch, sitting down first and pulling you down and into his side, a warm throw blanket pulled over you in the next moment. His wings draped over the side of the couch, an arm wrapped over your shoulders and his free hand holding one of yours. He swiped his thumb over the back of it rhythmically as you basked in each other’s presence.

“So,” Azriel started a while later, after M’aiq had joined you. “I won’t be able to come to town until Friday night next week, and I was wondering if you would be free for another date?”

You tilted your head to look up at him, meeting his softened hazel eyes. “I most definitely am,” you confirmed with a smile, it broadening when he placed a tender kiss to your lips. “Do I get a hint on what it is?”

Azriel grinned at you, his face looking so boyish and free that your heart skipped a beat. “Wear something you can move comfortably in.”

You furrowed your brow. “That’s not much of a hint…” you half-heartedly grumbled.

“The hint was meant to be vague, love,” Az chuckled. He leaned down to kiss you once more, still soft and tender, but you could sense the hunger lying deep underneath the calm façade he was wearing. “I should be going, as much as I would rather stay with you,” he groaned, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Then stay…” you whispered against his lips, drawing another long kiss from him.

He sighed when he pulled away this time, a finality in his expression. “I wish I could,” he murmured before carefully moving the blanket on his lap in an effort to not disturb M’aiq. Once he was standing, he bent down for another kiss, your eyes fluttering closed until he pulled away, your cheeks pink. “I’ll see you on Friday?”

“On Friday,” you nodded. “Oh, wait! Mor gave me these papers that will let us write to each other,” you said. “So… Expect a letter from me, probably tomorrow,” you giggled.

Azriel beamed at you, a dimple showing on his left cheek when he did so, your heart absolutely melting at the sight. “I’ll look forward to it, Y/N. Have a good rest of your night,” he said before pressing one last, lingering kiss to your lips.

“You too, Az,” you said, watching as he left through your front, door, the shadow that apparently stays with you locking the door behind him before lazily floating back over to you.

What a night, you thought to yourself.

There had been a brief moment of panic, with the reveal of Rhysand not wanting Azriel to approach you, but… You knew that Azriel was telling you the truth, that he had never harbored feelings for your second eldest sister.

And that was all the reassurance that you needed.

🤍💙💘💙🤍

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[crimsonfrostx]

A Road Well Traveled (Azriel x Reader)

Part 3

Word Count: 2028 Warnings: Anger, mild language Part 1 Part 4 Part 2

Cassian's grin falters, his expression softening at your apology. He rubs a hand over his face, the excitement now replaced with a hint of remorse. "Oh, come on," he groans, walking over to you. "Don't do the guilty act. You know it doesn't suit you." He slowly pulls you in for a hug, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. You wrap your arms around him tightly, hoping they couldn't see how close to breaking you really were. The thickness in the room dissipated slowly, but never fully. "You really are a pain in my ass, you know that?" he mutters, resting his chin on the top of your head.

Amren hums, catching your attention as you release Cassian and turn towards the strange, small female. "Amren. You seem...different," you say carefully, unsure how to explain it. Amren raises an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth tilting into a slight smirk. "Different? Is that your way of saying I've lost my touch, girl?" she asks, her voice smooth and slightly mocking.

You grin slowly. "I would never," you say earnestly.

Amren's smirk widens into a rare smile that reaches her eyes. "I always knew I liked you for a reason," she replies, her gaze flickering over your form. "You are different, as well, are you not?" she observes, her eyes narrowing. 

You tense, your own eyes narrowing. "That's enough, Amren," you say, voice firm. Fear had never ruled over your relationship with Amren, and it wouldn't start now.

Amren holds your gaze for a moment before nodding slightly, recognizing the firmness in your voice. She had a strange relationship with you, one built upon harsh words and respect, but not friendship. "Very well. But remember, I see through your facade," she replies softly, her silver eyes glinting with a knowing look.

You purposely ignored Azriel’s searching gaze, stepping away from the table. You glanced towards the last two strangers you hadn't yet greeted. "You must be Nesta," you eye the fierce looking female seated next to Cassian. Then, you meet soft doe eyes across the table. "Making you, Elain."

Nesta’s sharp, grey-blue eyes narrowed as they fixed upon you, her gaze assessing you carefully. She offers a slight incline of her head, a sign of acknowledgment, but her expression remains guarded. Elain, on the other hand, offers you a gentle smile, her warm, doe-like eyes filled with curiosity. "Yes, I'm Elain," she replies softly, her voice carrying a soft, velveteen undertone.

You open your mouth to say something when Rhysand tilts his head. "Incoming," he warns, his voice warm with affection. A young boy with small bat-like wings comes sprinting in, arms spread wide and barreling into his father. Your expression melts at the youngest and newest addition to the family.

The boy, Nyx, hugs his father’s legs, his wings spread wide and batting at the air as he giggles uncontrollably. Rhysand effortlessly lifts the young boy up into his arms, chuckling warmly as Nyx clings to him. Cassian snorts a laugh, a fond smile on his face as he watches the father and son. "That boy is going to be a nightmare, just you watch," he mutters.

You take small steps forward, eyes latched onto the boy who looked just like Rhysand. "I have missed too much," you murmur softly. You had always promised to stick by your family, had late night discussions with Mor about how you would spoil any child born to this chaotic group. 

Rhysand turns towards you, his gaze softening as he takes in your expression. "You're here now," he replies, a faint hint of sadness in his eyes, knowing how much you missed their lives after leaving. Nyx, noticing you for the first time, turns his head, his wide blue eyes studying your face curiously. "Who 'at?" he asks in a small voice, pointing a chubby finger at you.

Rhysand chuckles softly, a loving smile on his face as he turns Nyx to face you, holding him up in the air in front of you. "This is an old friend, Nyx. She went away for a while but has finally come home." Nyx stares at you with wide eyes, his curiosity piqued, then looks back at his father. "But why?" he asks, his small wings flapping gently as he tries to get a better look at you. You can feel your heart break slowly at the little boy's question.

You can feel everyone’s eyes back on you, and you think you’d run out the front door if it didn’t look like Azriel would catch you within the first 30 seconds. Rhysand’s expression softens, sensing your pain. He strokes Nyx's soft black hair, trying to figure out how to answer his son’s question. “People have to go away sometimes, buddy," he starts gently, tilting Nyx's face up towards him. "Sometimes they need some space or to find new adventures." 

Rhysand's gaze flicks over to you, his expression shifting to a mixture of understanding and sadness. "But they always come back eventually," he continues, his tone hopeful. Nyx stares at Rhysand for a moment, his youthful innocence struggling to comprehend the concept. He turns his head back to you, his gaze fixated on your face. "You back now," he says, his small wings flapping again.

You nod slowly, a sad smile gracing your face. "I am," you confirm softly, stepping close and rustling his black hair. Nyx's tiny wings twitch with excitement as you brush your fingers through his hair, a wide smile spreading across his face. "Stay again?" he asks innocently, reaching a small hand out to pat your cheek.

You feel your chest ache painfully, and you nod quickly, eyes glancing up to Rhysand before looking around at the important people in your life, and the fresh additions. “I’m not going anywhere,” you state, eyes pausing on Azriel’s hazel orbs.

Nyx's face lights up with joy at your acceptance, his small hand still resting on your cheek. "Yay!" he squeals, flapping his wings even more vigorously. Rhysand chuckles, giving you a small nod in acknowledgement of your declaration. “You always have a home here,” he says, voice tinged with warmth and understanding. 

You pull away, breathing in harshly like you’ve been deprived of oxygen. You retreat completely and round the table, stepping back towards Azriel and the entrance. "I brought wine! I don't know if it's up to your standards, but I know it's strong!"

You could feel their eyes on your back as you rushed into the next room and towards your bag by the front door. Pausing, you debate on leaving now, before you have the chance to panic again and mess everything up. A shadow twirls a piece of your hair and you glance back to the entrance of the dining room to find Azriel watching you carefully, his eyes filled with concern. Hand raised in a wave, you turn back and breathe slowly through your nose and open your bag, grabbing the bottle of wine you had packed on a whim. You couldn’t abandon them after declaring that you wouldn’t leave again.

You turn and walk back to the dining room, passing an expressionless Azriel who’s eyes never once left you. Raising the bottle in one hand, you wiggle it a little. “I return bearing gifts!” You declare loudly, proud of yourself for not shaking like a leaf.

Cassian lets out a low whistle, his gaze flickering between you and the bottle you’re holding. "You never fail to show up unannounced and bearing gifts," he says, his tone lighthearted. Feyre chuckles softly, eyeing the bottle curiously. "What’d you bring?" she asks curiously, her gaze flicking to Rhysand, who seems to be carefully observing you and taking his seat with Nyx on his lap.

"I picked it up at the local inn on the main continent a while ago. The locals wouldn't stop singing its praises so I bought a couple of bottles. It's like...strawberries. Fancy strawberries. "

Cassian's interest peaks at your words, his eyes widening. "Strawberries?" he repeats, an intrigued grin spreading on his face. "You got my attention," he says, his gaze fixed on the bottle. "I didn’t think I’d ever see the day where you brought a quality drink."

You wrinkle your nose. "I pick good drinks," you argued, passing the bottle to Mor to do the honors of pouring it around. Mor takes the bottle, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. "I swear to the Mother, if this tastes like piss I’m going to laugh in your face," she mutters, pouring the drink into each wine glass presented.

You shake your head with a grumble, dragging Azriel to the table and taking a seat by Elain and Azriel on your other side. Azriel allows you to drag him to the table, his expression neutral but his gaze never leaving you.

Mor hands the glasses to the different members of the table, her gaze flickering to you with amusement before taking a small sip of the drink. "Not as piss worthy as I anticipated," she muses, taking another few sips. Hums of agreement sound from around the table, you take a sip and you sigh at the sweetness coating your tongue. “I told you I bring good drinks,” you grin, feeling smug at the line of faces that are clearly pleased.

Everyone relaxes into comfortable silence for a moment as they all begin to enjoy the drink. Cassian glances over at you from across the table, a small frown tugging at his lips. He can’t help but notice the tension still in your shoulders, despite the light conversation around the table. "You still look like you're ready to jump ship at any given moment," he comments, his tone lighthearted but his gaze betraying concern.

Your gaze jumps to his, and you force your expression to remain neutral. "I don't know what you mean, Cass." Everyone can hear the warning tone beneath it, eyes flitting between the two. 

He raises an eyebrow at your response, his gaze narrowing. "Oh, really?" he huffs, scoffing at your response. "You look like the wrong thing said will get the whole table stabbed," he says bluntly, but his gaze remains concerned.

Your eyes darken, feeling Azriel’s quiet presence beside you, shadows twisting around your hands. "Drop it, Cassian." Your voice firm, eyes darkening. Nyx holds onto Feyre with wide eyes, having been passed to his mother as Rhysand’s gaze sharpens at the scene before him.

Cassian pauses at your sharp tone, his eyes narrowing in frustration. He can see the warning in your eyes, the silent request to drop the conversation, but his worry gets the better of him. "You can't just show up after disappearing for 76 years and expect us not to have questions," he says, his tone growing impatient. You can’t blame him, knowing that you would have to come clean sooner or later. But his tone is getting to you, that dark power flaring to life within your chest and you feel like you’re about to snap, the air around you thickening.

"Cass," Azriel warns, feeling you coil tighter beside him. Your eyes flash, the room dimming. "I expect a single, peaceful evening with my family again." You growl slowly.

Cassian bristles, his hands clenching at the table. "And I expect some damn answers!" he growls back, not entirely his own temper, flaring. You stand slowly, your body tensing for a fight. An unnatural fear creeps around the room and Nyx whimpers. 

Rhysand's expression darkens as he feels the tension in the room thicken. His gaze flickers to your poised form, ready for a fight, and he intervenes quickly. "Cassian." His voice is low as he warns his friend to stand down, but his tone leaves no room for argument. Cassian looks over at his High Lord, his frustration replaced by a reluctant obedience. He lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping as he relents.

You don't feel the release of tension, Azriel carefully wrapping a shadow around your shoulders. You turn your piercing eyes to him, and he guides you with a hand on your back, wordlessly leading you away from the table and towards the balcony.

[azrielsshadows42]

Beginning of ACOMAF

Feyre: *crying* Rhysand: What's wrong? Feyre: I think I need to break up with Tamlin Rhysand: Mor: Cassian: Azriel: Rhysand: ... Rhysand: *confused* So what's wrong?

[incorrectacotarblog]

Rhysand: Nesta, don’t let anyone treat you like an option

Nesta: wow that’s actually really nice of you to say

Rhysand: you’re inevitable - a horror beyond comprehension, an omen, a threat

Nesta:

[starksweasley]

Lake Day // Rhysand

Summary: In which you have a peaceful lake day with Rhysand and the Inner Circle (fluff)

Word Count: 1104

The sun was warm against your skin, the golden rays casting a glittering sheen over the lake. Laughter and screaming rang out from the water where Mor had just shoved Cassian off Azriel’s shoulders, sending a spectacular splash over anyone too close to the fray. Feyre, lounging on the shore with a smirk, passed you a berry from the basket she’d stolen earlier, her paint-streaked fingers brushing yours.

“Think you’re next,” she murmured, nodding toward Rhysand, who was currently wading toward you with a grin that spelled trouble. The water clung to his body, shimmering like liquid silver over the hard planes of his chest, making it impossible not to stare. His midnight eyes glimmered like the stars, locked on you in a way that made the rest of the world fade into static. You pretended not to notice, but the green bikini you’d worn was suddenly the only thing on your mind.

“You look like a water nymph,” he murmured when he reached you, his voice low enough that only you could hear. His fingers trailed over the bare skin of your waist, featherlight and reverent, his touch igniting little sparks that danced up your spine.

You rolled your eyes, even as heat crept up your neck. “Flattery won’t save you in the next round.”

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, leaning closer, his lips brushing your ear. “You’d need both Az and Cassian to take me down.”

Before you could retaliate, Cassian’s voice boomed across the lake. “Chicken rematch! Rhys, you and your girl better not chicken out again—pun intended.”

Rhys sighed dramatically, pulling you toward the deeper water as you complained. Ignoring your protests entirely, he bent slightly, grabbing you by the waist and hauling you up with ease. You squealed, your legs kicking reflexively as he tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of flour, striding into the lake with a laugh that matched the mischievous glint in his eyes. “Guess we’ll have to show them,” he said with mock resignation, but his smirk betrayed him. When he hoisted you onto his shoulders, his hands gripping your thighs with ease, you caught his subtle wink.

“You better not drop me,” you warned, trying to sound serious as Mor grinned from across the water.

“Never,” he said, his voice like velvet, warm and sure.

The game devolved into chaos, as expected, with Cassian attempting to topple you both with an enthusiasm that could only be described as barbaric. Water flew in every direction as shrieks of laughter filled the air, your hands gripping Rhys’s hair in a desperate attempt to steady yourself. “Hold still, you’re going to make me fall!” you cried, half-laughing, half-panicked, as Rhys steadied you with a firm grip on your thighs, his smirk unshakable.

“You think I’d let that brute win?” Rhys teased, dodging a wave sent your way by Cassian’s flailing arms. “Not a chance.”

When Cassian finally lunged with all his might, the inevitable splash came, pulling you both under in a whirlwind of bubbles. You surfaced with a gasp, water streaming down your face, only to find yourself in Rhys’s arms. He was grinning down at you, his hair dripping, his chest rising and falling with breathless laughter. “You okay, sweetheart?” he asked, brushing a strand of wet hair from your face.

“Barely,” you replied, laughing as he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, his thumb stroking your cheek. The warmth of his touch and the sparkle in his eyes made it impossible not to smile.

By the time the sun began to sink toward the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, the group had settled on the shore. Amren, perched regally on a rock with a drink in hand, pretended not to watch as Azriel offered Mor a rare, teasing smile. Mor, of course, was quick to retaliate with a cheeky quip about his brooding demeanor, causing even Azriel’s lips to twitch in amusement. Cassian was already halfway through a pile of snacks, crumbs on his chest as he loudly accused Rhys of cheating in the earlier game, his dramatic gesticulations sending Feyre’s basket of berries rolling. Feyre scowled at him, reaching out to rescue the fruit, though her expression softened when he gave her an exaggerated pout.

“You’re like a child,” she said, shaking her head, though her voice held a note of fondness.

“A very charming child,” Cassian shot back, popping another berry into his mouth before winking at Amren. “You agree, don’t you?”

Amren rolled her eyes, muttering something about “idiots” as she took a sip of her drink, though the corner of her mouth twitched in what might have been a smile.

Rhysand was lying on his back, stretched out languidly on the soft blanket spread over the shore, with you curled into his side. Your head rested on his chest, rising and falling with the steady rhythm of his breath, and one of his arms draped around your waist, holding you close as though you might slip away. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your arm, the light touch sending shivers down your skin, while his other hand tangled in your damp hair, twisting and smoothing the strands idly. Every so often, his thumb would graze over your shoulder, lingering just long enough to make your heart flutter. The warmth of his body beneath you and the subtle, grounding pressure of his touch made you feel impossibly safe.

“You wore that just to distract me, didn’t you?” he murmured, tilting his head to catch your eyes. His voice was rich, filled with a teasing warmth that matched the sunlight filtering through the trees.

You smirked, pressing a finger to his chest. “You’re awfully distracted for someone who’s supposedly all-powerful.”

“Only around you.” His lips brushed yours softly, the kiss lingering just long enough to leave your heart stuttering. When he pulled back, his gaze softened, his free hand cupping your cheek as though he couldn’t bear to stop touching you.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “I think I’ll have to find a green bikini for you in every shade imaginable. You’ve officially ruined me.”

You laughed, swatting at his chest as he chuckled, the sound low and endlessly affectionate. “Ruined you? Hardly. You’re still incorrigible.”

“And madly in love,” he added, his fingers sliding back up to toy with the ends of your hair. He pressed another kiss to your forehead before pulling you closer, the quiet hum of your friends’ chatter mingling with the steady rhythm of his breathing. If this wasn’t perfect, you weren’t sure what was.