#nesta x rhys

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Rhys: If you think I'm playing favorites, you're wrong. I love you all equally.

Rhys, earlier: I don't care for Nesta.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Punish You With Pleasure (Pleasure You With Pain)

A/N: happy belated birthday @moodymelanist! This is a super late gift, but hopefully the absolutely filthy smut will make up for it. And hoo boy is it filthy! 😉 I know this is a crackship and not everyone's cup of tea, so this is your friendly reminder to simply don't read if you don't like. Also, the consent in this fic is a bit dubious so please read with care! Special shout out to @witch-and-her-witcher for reading this for me and assuring me it was the right side of insane

Read on AO3

Five hundred gold marks.

She'd spent five hundred gold marks on her little escapade the previous night.

He'd seen the way Feyre's eyes would go distant mid-paint stroke sometimes. The way she'd start to wring her fingers together and worry at her bottom lip as her thoughts trailed to her eldest sister. He'd seen the dark circles that clung to the skin beneath Cassian's eyes even well after they'd returned home to peace. He knew his brother was almost constantly perched on that rooftop, praying to the Mother and the Cauldron for anything other than another rejection from a female who clearly never thought twice about him. Rhys had to order him away to Illyria just so his brother might finally get some sleep.

But Feyre's expression this morning when the bill from the previous night arrived had been the final straw. Those soft blue eyes he loved so much had misted over, heat creeping up her neck in shame, as she started forlornly down at her breakfast. A single tear had slipped down across her cheek and into her eggs.

Rhys had been done then. Done with his family hurting. Done with the cause being this cruel, stubborn, selfish female. This is his Court, his city, and he won't allow for this to go on any longer. He intends to put Nesta Archeron in her place.

He can't remember the last time he's been to this part of Velaris. Many of the cobblestones beneath his shoes are cracked, some even fully broken or missing. Paint chips and peels off many of the buildings, but it doesn't stop any of the taverns lining the streets. Doesn't stop the patrons entering their doors or stumbling out of them.

The unfortunate building Nesta Archeron has chosen as a home is as unassuming as it is rundown. Dull gray stone and broken shutters line the outside, and as Rhys steps through the doors, it's rickety stairs that greets him. He follows them up to the third floor, his feet carrying him down the winding hall.

There's a distinct scent that seems to permeate the whole space around him. Stale alcohol. Food gone bad. Unbathed residents. Rhys can't help but grimace, can't help but turn his nose up to that scent, to all the grime that seems to bleed from the walls. He'll certainly need a long soak after this, and almost instinctively, his fingers move to his sleeve, picking and brushing at the fabric.

There’s nothing particularly remarkable about the door at the end of the hall. Nothing of note either. Old nails in the wood may have held up rusted numbers or letters at some point, but not any longer. Raising his fist, Rhys knocks twice, hard and curt, against the wood. There’s rustling on the other side, the slide of locks, and then the door pulls open, Nesta Archeron standing before him.

She has on some male’s shirt, but judging by the scent behind her, or lack thereof, whoever was in the apartment is long gone now. She’s barely bothered to do up the few buttons at the bottom of the shirt. It leaves a deep v of skin exposed and on full display. The expanse of her collarbones, down through the valley of her breasts, all the way down to her navel. Dark circles cling to the pallor skin beneath her eyes, but they’re still a piercing, stormy blue, still narrowed in a glare in greeting.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Nesta sneers, her appearance doing nothing to damper the bite to her tone.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Rhys asks coolly instead of answering.

“No.”

Nesta tries to slam the door in his face, but Rhys is quicker. His hand shoots out, catching the wood and stopping its momentum with ease. It doesn't take much effort to force the door open again, to shoulder his way past Nesta and into her apartment. The lingering scents of males is especially potent inside, a mingled, stale mix of sweat and sex. Rhys doesn't bother swallowing down his blatant sniff nor his frown, reveling in the way Nesta's gaze hardens even more at the reaction.

“What are you doing here?” Nesta demands again, crossing her arms over her chest. The gesture only draws further emphasis to the swell of her breasts, threatening to send them spilling through the opening in the shirt she wears.

Rhys tears his gaze away from her, eying the bedroom and the rumbled sheets he can see through the open doorway instead. “Company left already? Perhaps consider washing your sheets. I’m sure the scent of revolving males is quite off putting and would send any sane male running.”

“Fuck you,” Nesta seethes, practically snarling as she spits the words at him.

“And what number male was that last night? Or have you already lost track?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Rhys chuckles darkly, stepping closer to her again and using the few inches he has on her to look down and offer a smile that’s all teeth. “It is when it’s in my city.”

For her credit, Nesta doesn’t allow the proximity or his height to cow her. She holds her ground, raising her chin defiantly. “I didn’t realize that was part of your job description, keeping tabs on all the fucking that happens. That must be exhausting.”

“If I were you, I’d keep that smart mouth of yours closed.”

“And if I were you, I’d get out of my apartment,” Nesta fires back, gesturing toward the door.

“Yours? Did you forget who pays the rent for this shit hole?” Rhys chuckles dryly, making his disgust clear as he pointedly looks around. When he finally meets Nesta’s gaze again, her hands are clenched into fists, that defiance burning as bright as the flames he knows skitter just beneath her skin. “Although, clearly you have no issue with whose money you’re spending considering what you spent last night.”

The barest hint of a smirk tugs up the corner of Nesta’s lips. “What can I say? All the bar patrons were all too happy to raise a toast to their High Lord when they heard drinks were on him.”

“Do you think this is a joke? You spent five hundred gold marks last night!”

“Only five hundred?”

The growl is escaping the back of Rhys’s throat before he can stop it. “Do you take joy in being a selfish bitch?”

“Does it get you off playing big, bad High Lord? I’m sure Feyre loves this little act.”

“Don’t speak about your sister, your High Lady, that way.”

Nesta rolls her eyes. “So much talk, and yet I’m not seeing any sort of action.”

Rhys surges forward, his hand coming up between them to grasp at her jaw, to hold her in place while he glares and seethes at her face. He can feel her pulse just beneath his fingers, the way it flutters and stutters, but it’s not fear burning in those blue eyes.

“You want to see action? Give me a reason. I dare you. You will speak of your sister with respect. You will speak to me with respect.”

“What are you? My father?”

Rhys realizes too late how close they’re standing. Realizes too late that her already kiss bitten lips are parted as she stares up at him beneath long lashes. Realizes too late that her full breasts are pressed firmly against his chest, peaked nipples noticeable even through the two layers of fabric between them. Realizes too late the way his cock twitches in interest at this turn of events, this turn in the conversation.

“Really? Does that get you off? Do you want me to call you Daddy?”

Despite her taunting words, the sweet scent of her arousal permeates the air, swirling around him and flooding his senses. The magic deep within his chest thrums to life, rising in interest to meet the well of power stolen from the Cauldron itself. He squeezes his hand a bit tighter, relishing in the way Nesta’s breath catches, the way her eyes flutter, casting piercing blue in shadow as her eyelashes kiss her cheeks.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” Rhys warns lowly, even as he shifts his hand enough that he can drag the pad of his thumb across her lips.

“I’m quite confident the only person’s ability to finish currently in question is yours.”

“There’s that smart mouth again. How about we put it to better use.”

Rhys slides his hand down, the tips of his fingers grazing across the skin of her neck. He can feel the shiver that skitters up her spine at the touch, the goosebumps that pebble beneath. His fingers continue down to her collarbone, following the delicate line all the way to her shoulder. It doesn’t take much pressure for him to push her down to the floor, her legs spreading wide to hold her weight comfortably.

In this position, Rhys has a perfect view to leer down the front of Nesta’s shirt. He can see the large swell of her breasts and pink peaked nipples perfectly, can watch the way they heave with each panting breath that tumbles past her parted lips. And just beyond, he can see the dusting of dark curls begging for his touch, for his cock.

As if sensing where his thoughts have gone, Nesta’s eyes dance to the growing tent in the front of his pants. Already his cock is hard and straining against the laces and fabric, his blood heating with every passing second. The sight of Nesta licking her lips forces him to swallow down a groan. The stubborn, eldest Archeron. The Kingslayer. The female who sneered at every High Lord when they all gathered.

“Now, that’s much better. On your knees before your High Lord,” Rhys comments, slowly but surely untying the laces of his pants. He tugs his cock free, fisting it and spreading the precum pooled at the tip down the length of it. Nesta tracks the movement, and Rhys smirks at the reaction. “Is this what you want?”

Nesta looks at him through her eyelashes, nodding her head. The scent of her arousal becomes stronger, headier, the female clearly as turned on as he is. He can already imagine how she must be dripping down her thighs, but the shirt still hides that from view. Because he can, Rhys uses his free hand and tugs hard at the offending thing, wanting to hear the buttons clattering against the wood, the feel of fabric tearing beneath his grip, rather than magicing it away.

The sight presented before him is certainly worth it, and he half wonders if he should fuck her tits instead.

“Open,” Rhys demands coldly, letting a low rumble of his power to bleed into his tone. Almost on cue, Nesta’s lips part wider, her tongue pressing forward in waiting. “Well, would you look at that. You can behave after all.”

Before Nesta can respond or get another remark out, Rhys presses his cock forward into the wet heat of her mouth. He’s not gentle about it, feeding her half his length in one crude thrust until he hits the back of her throat. She chokes around him, but then she’s moaning, the vibration paired with her throat working and swallowing around him finally pulling a groan free from his chest.

Her tongue laves at the underside of his cock, the tip flicking and catching on the ridge of the head as he pulls back only to push right back in. He digs a hand in her hair, threading the brassy strands around his fingers and tugging hard. It pulls another choked, spluttering moan from Nesta, and Rhys using his grip to begin fucking her mouth in earnest. With each hard snap of his hips, he tries to feed her even more of his cock, to bury himself deeper down her throat.

“You know, your mouth is much sweeter when it’s stuffed full of cock instead of mouthing off.”

Nesta blinks up at him with watery eyes as he continues to move. Tears track down her cheeks, mixing with the drool that spills past her lips and splashing across her chest. There’s a pretty, pink flush spread across the skin there, matching the color of her cheeks. Even with the wide stretch of her lips around him, she hollows those same cheeks.

“Fuck,” Rhys groans, pleasure buzzing through his veins and threatening to send him teetering over the edge quicker than he’d prefer.

He pulls out of her mouth with a wet pop, a line of drool still connecting them. He watches the way Nesta swallows, the way she licks her lips now swollen and red from sucking his cock. Her eyes are glassy as she peers up at him, but that fire still burns behind the blue of them.

“Close already?” Nesta asks, the taunt still clear despite the rasp of her voice. “That’s disappointing.”

With a growl, Rhys uses the grip he still has on her hair to yank her to her feet, the rest of her shirt falling away with the movement. He doesn’t bother with the bedroom, with the rumpled sheets and the ghosts of males embedded within the fabric. Instead, he spins Nesta around and pushes her against the ragged, fraying sofa that takes up space in her sorry excuse for a living room.

“So much hatred,” Rhys comments, using his feet to kick her legs further apart. He presses himself along her spine, curling an arm around her. He slides his hand down her chest, down her stomach, all the way down until he finds the lips of her cunt already slick and fluttering from the barest of touches. “And yet you’re already drenched for me.”

He keeps his touch light, drawing the tips of his fingers back and forth. When he reaches her clit, he draws the barest hint of a circle against it before pulling away again. A high pitched sound somewhere between a whine and a whimper tumbles past Nesta's lips, and she tries to shift her hips down, chasing the pressure, but he keeps her firmly pinned in place.

“Beg for it,” Rhys tells her, teasing at her entrance in a promise of the pressure to come and gathering the wetness there between his fingers.

Nesta moans softly, her hips stuttering again, but she turns her head over her shoulder enough to still glare at him. “You know you want to fuck me, so just do it already.”

“And yet you’re the one with your legs spread and desperate for me,” Rhys reminds her, skimming over her clit again, her cunt fluttering beneath his ministrations as if in agreement of his words. “Beg for it. And maybe I’ll be a generous High Lord and give it to you.”

Nesta huffs, turning her head back around and dropping it down between her shoulders. She doesn’t say anything, but Rhys is confident that her stubborn will won’t win out this time. He continues his teasing and taunting touches, daring to slip and press just the pad of his finger past her entrance.

“I’m waiting…”

“Please,” Nesta finally whispers. “Please. I need it.”

“That’s more like it.”

Rhys wastes no time sinking two fingers into her cunt, hard and deep. Nesta lets out a loud moan at the sudden intrusion, slumping forward even more against the sofa. Her cunt is warm and wet, practically inviting him in with the way it seems to pull his fingers even deeper, the way her walls flutter and clench around them. He drives his fingers in a rough, fast pace, scissoring and curling them. Every wanton sound he draws out of the female before him goes straight to his cock, his length somehow hardening even more.

“All these males in and out of here, and have you ever even been properly fucked? You’re so tight.”

“Fuck,” Nesta gasps out between moans. “You.”

“Oh, I intend to. I’ll show you what it’s like to take a real male’s cock.”

Rhys curls his fingers, finding that spot within her that has Nesta keening, has her back arching with the pleasure. Already, her skin has started to glisten, beads of moisture beginning to pool along her spine. Pressed this close together, her sweet scent engulfs him, making him dizzy. It drives him to work his fingers harder. To squeeze in a third finger. To press his thumb hard to her clit.

Every slide of his fingers is wet and hard. Each forceful thrust in sends Nesta’s hips jostling against the back of the sofa, and each time he drives his fingers back out, more of her arousal is drawn out too. It makes a mess of his hand, slicking between his fingers. Leaves the wet sounds of sex echoing through the apartment, a perfect harmony to the melody of Nesta’s moans.

He can tell she’s close from the way she starts to squeeze tighter around his fingers, her walls fluttering and pulsing in a steady pace. From the way her keens grow into a higher, breathier pitch. Her fists clench hard into the fabric of the sofa, and Rhys uses that exact moment to withdraw his hand completely.

“Please,” Nesta whispers again, letting out what sounds almost like a sob. It’s broken and needy, and Rhys’s cock twitches again in interest. “Please…”

“You forget that this is a punishment.” Rhys lifts his hand toward her face, dragging his fingers and her own arousal across her lips. “Clean them.”

Nesta dutifully sucks his fingers into her mouth, sliding her tongue around each digit. She moans around them, around the taste of herself, and Rhys presses his fingers even deeper, until she’s gagging against his touch. He slips his fingers free, but he doesn’t pull them far. Instead he grips her jaw, still sticky, wet fingertips digging into her skin. He yanks her face to look at him over her shoulder. Her eyes are unfocused, the blue of them swallowed by her pupils in their blown out, lust addled state.

“But this is what you want, isn’t it?” Rhys asks in a mocking tone. “You like to be punished, to be put in your place.”

He releases his hold on her with enough force that Nesta’s head merely sags back between her shoulders. Rhys knows that he could leave her just like this, desperate and keyed up and wanting. Knows that it would be punishment enough. He knows that he should leave her just like this, a voice tickling along the back of his mind to remind him of such.

But his own desire and need is a throbbing and wanting thing writhing inside his chest. Her cunt is the prettiest shade of pink, still fluttering and pulsing from his previous ministrations, practically begging for him to take take take. His power rumbles beneath his skin and echoes the chant, and Rhys slides a tantalizing hand down her spine, Nesta arching even more beneath his touch.

“Take it,” Nesta breathes softly as though reading his own thoughts. “Take me.”

Rhys focuses his attention back on his pants, tugging them further down his hips. He fists his cocks again, the pump of his hand already providing some relief for the ache burning low in his gut. He slides the head of his cock along her, gathering the wetness there and spreading it down the length of him. Nesta shudders and moans each time his cockhead catches on her clit, trying to rock further against him, and while the temptation to make her beg again is there, Rhys isn’t sure he’ll be able to wait much longer. For once, he wants to be selfish, and who better to be selfish with than the most selfish female he’s ever met.

He shifts his free hand to grip her hip, to hold her in place exactly how he wants her, and then he buries his cock inside her in one hard, clean thrust. The warmth and squeeze of her around him is indescribable, a groan escaping his clenched jaw. He can’t stop staring at where they’re joined. Can’t stop staring at the way her cunt opens for him, the way it swallows him.

“Rhysand,” Nesta’s voice brings him back to the present. “Move.”

“You’re the one who’s so desperate for cock. So you can fuck yourself on mine.”

Nesta whimpers at his harsh words, but there’s no denying the way she clenches down harder around him, the way her walls flutter still adjusting to his size. She spreads her legs wider, resetting her stance, and then she starts to move her hips. With the limited space between the sofa and Rhys’s body, she can do nothing but create shallow thrusts, but even still her sweet cunt somehow pulls Rhys even deeper, the drag of her walls enough that he has to tighten his grip against her hip.

He allows her control for just a few more thrusts before taking it back with a hard snap of his hips. He sets a punishing pace, his hand sliding up her back and shoving her down hard until she’s bent in half over the sofa. His hand traces along her shoulder, down her arm to her wrist. It takes some maneuvering around the way their bodies jostle with each rough thrust, but he’s able to move her hand down to her own cunt, move it so he’s fucking through her splayed fingers.

“Do you feel that?” Rhys growls out, his voice barely audible over the moans and cries of the female beneath him. “Do you feel how drenched you are for me? Feel how well you take your High Lord’s cock?”

He leaves her hand there and shifts his own to her breasts. They overflow in his palms, heavy and bouncing as he continues to fuck her hard. He pinches and tugs at her nipples, relishing in the way her cunt seems to respond each time he does. It doesn’t take long before Nesta begins to tighten even more around him on each inward thrust, before she’s practically trembling against him, clearly teetering right on that edge.

“Do you want to come?” Rhys teases one hand down just past her navel but no further. “Scream my name. Let all of Velaris know how good their High Lord is. And maybe I’ll be generous and fill you up.”

Nesta is all too happy to oblige, shouting his name until she’s practically hoarse between her choked off moans and high pitched whines. Rhys finally slips his hand lower and spreads her wider still. Her clit is slippery and swollen, and it only takes a few swipes of the pad of his fingers before Nesta is wailing brokenly, her whole body tensing as she finds her release.

Feeling her coming on his cock, the way she clamps around him, steals the breath straight from Rhys’s lungs. Despite the tightness of her still fluttering and pulsing cunt, Rhys doubles his efforts, fucking in harder and deeper and chasing his own release. His balls slap against her skin, filling the apartment and mixing with the sounds of his own grunts and Nesta’s whimpers.

“It’s… it’s too much…”

“You can take it,” Rhys tells her harshly, not stopping his movements. “I know you can take it. Don’t you want me to fill you up? Fill you up nice and deep until you’ll be dripping for days. Until every male in this city will know whose bitch you really are. Until you’ll always remember this cock.”

Nesta lets out another sob as another orgasm tears through her unbidden, clenching so hard that Rhys sees stars. He groans and buries himself as deep as he can go, his cock twitching as he spills inside her. He offers a few more shallow thrusts, riding out the last tendrils of his own release and taking a final moment to relish in the tight heat of Nesta’s still fluttering cunt.

She whimpers when he pulls his softening cock out, slumping against the sofa in a boneless heap. Rhys can’t help but fist his cock again, dragging the head through the absolute mess he’s made of her cunt. He gathers his seed that starts to dribble out of her, shallowing forcing it right back where it belongs, chuckling darkly at the way her knees give out at the action, the way she shudders.

“Perhaps now, you’ll remember your place in this Court,” Rhys whispers in her ear, both a threat and a promise.

He straightens back to his full height, carefully tucking himself back into his pants and tugging the cuffs of his sleeves back into place. He offers Nesta Archeron one last look, the female still naked and unmoving save for her still gasping breaths against the sofa, before turning and striding toward the door.

“I expect to see you at the next family dinner.”

[wolfnesta]

The way I can ship Nesta with ANY character and it’s a banger

[velidewrites]

Moodboard Requests || NESTA & RHYSAND

[itsswritten]

wings

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader, IC (platonic) x reader

Word Count: 3.1K

Warnings: 18+, smut, P in V, lots of fluff

Summary: Who would've thought that your found family would be so captivated by your hidden wings? As they reminisce about their first glimpses of your ethereal secret, you realise just how cherished and adored you truly are.

Wings Universe - More from this world.

"I distinctly remember," Mor began, her voice filled with excitement, drawing not only your attention from the comforting cocoon of Azriel's arms, but also the rooms. She sat opposite you, a slight mischief twinkling in her eyes as she leaned forward.

You were all nestled in one of the many living rooms at the House of Wind. 

Under the flickering faelight, you sat beside Azriel– your mate. His large presence ever the comfort, as he enveloped you in his arms. His fingers, tracing intricate patterns through your hair, each touch sending ripples of relaxation through your body. 

If it weren't for the loudness of your friends and family, their remarks not failing to echo through the room, Azriel’s touch alone could have lulled you into a blissful slumber. 

"It was a surprise for sure," Feyre chimed in, a playful smirk dancing across her lips as she glanced over at your slightly confused expression. Sensing your distraction, Azriel reluctantly released his hold on you, joining the conversation with a gentle touch of his hand settling on the small of your back.

"My experience was quite a shock," Cassian added with a grin.

“Mine, I have to say is one I’d like to forget” Rhys grimaced as Feyre gave him an annoyed knowing look.

Amren, rolled her eyes at her family's theatrics. "You all make such a big deal out of everything," she remarked, her tone dry.

Your brows furrowed as you pieced together the fragments of the conversation, realisation dawning as Mor's words began to paint a vivid picture.

The topic of discussion? The first time they laid eyes on your beautiful wings.

 𓇢𓆸

Mor, Feyre and Nesta.

It was one of Feyre’s first nights out since welcoming Nyx into the world; she’d been dying for a night off. Craving the simple joys of the company of her girlfriends. Sensing her desperation for a night to let loose, you, Mor, and Nesta had taken it upon yourselves to orchestrate the perfect girls night out for your High Lady.

The night quickly unfolded into a flurry of laughter and dancing. Drinks were spilled, songs were sung. Rita’s being your chosen sanctuary for the night. You all let yourselves get lost in the music and infectious energy of the bar. Drinks were flowing freely, and the hours quickly slipped away like grains of sand in an hourglass.

It wasn’t until the sun had started to rise again that you all quickly realised you needed to get home. You’re not sure how in their drunken states, but Mor and Feyre had successfully managed to winnow you all back to River House, all collapsing in a giggling heap in the foyer.

A fit of laughter overtook the group as you stumbled and pushed, trying to untangle yourselves from one another. You managed to push yourself onto unsteady feet, only to trip over Nesta’s dress and stumble back onto Mor. With your balance faltering, a shimmer of magic danced through the air as your wings burst forth, a kaleidoscope of iridescent pink hues unfurling into the air. Your wings, delicate and light, burst with specs of fairy dust that glowed around you.

The room fell silent, the trio frozen in awe at the sight before them. Then, like a spell breaking, laughter bubbled forth, filling the space with joyous echoes. Mor's eyes sparkled with delight as she pulled you into an embrace, Feyre's lips curled into a grin, and even Nesta couldn't help but crack a smile.

"You sneaky thing," Mor teased, reaching out to brush her fingers against the delicate wings "Keeping such beauty hidden away."

“I bet Azriel loves keeping this side of you to himself,” Nesta purred, her voice laced with mischief as something provocative glinted in her eyes.

You responded with a playful stick-out of your tongue at Nesta, before turning your attention to Mor and Feyre, who were now a pair of mesmerised females, giggling like children as they reached out to touch this new part of their friend they had never seen before.

They had always known you had wings, from the type of fae you were, but you had always kept them hidden and they never dared to ask for you to reveal them.

"Hands off!" you exclaimed, your voice a blend of amusement and mock outrage as you swatted and smacked at their approaching fingers, the sound of laughter echoing through the halls.

Of course, they respectfully obeyed your wishes, but there was a warmth that filled their chests as you all stumbled arms wrapped around one another through the house, enjoying a new part of their friend that had been revealed.

 𓇢𓆸

Cassian.

Cassian's mischievous streak knew no bounds, especially when it came to playing pranks on you. He found something undeniably endearing about your reactions, and there was a certain satisfaction when he knew these teasing antics could also annoy Azriel too. 

On this particular day, you were busy in the kitchen, practising a cake recipe that Elain had shared with you. Determined to make the perfect cake for Azriel's upcoming birthday, you meticulously measured ingredients, oblivious to the looming presence of your giant friend.

Cassian's eyes twinkled with mischief as he saw his chance to play. With careful grace, he approached, holding his breath before unleashing his voice.

"BOO!" His voice boomed across the room, his figure looming over you with a triumphant grin.

Startled, you spun around in a flurry of flour, heart racing in your chest at the sudden noise. And then, in a moment of surprise, your magic wavered, and your wings unfurled in a burst of ethereal light.

The room fell silent as Cassian's eyes widened in disbelief, laughter fading into awe at the sight before him. "What in the Cauldron," he breathed, barely a whisper, his finger pointing at the delicate appendage. "What are those?"

You fluttered your wings away, annoyance evident in your voice as you retaliated with a playful toss of flour in his direction. "Cassian!" you exclaimed.

"YOU HAVE WINGS!" Cassian's excitement was palpable, his grin spreading from ear to ear.

"Of course I have wings, I'm a fairy," you retorted, arms outstretched in exasperation.

“AZRIEL…YOUR MATE HAS WINGS” he screamed knowing his vibrating voice would find his brother.

Azriel materialised from the shadows, concern evident in his eyes as he approached, brushing away the flour that had settled on your face. His expression shifted to admiration as he took in the sight of your wings shimmering behind you.

"Stop tormenting my mate, Cass," Azriel scolded gently, his protective instincts kicking in as he pulled you into a soft embrace, his lips pressing to the top of your head.

"She has wings!" Cassian exclaimed once more, disbelief colouring his tone. There was a touch of annoyance, as he realised he may have been the only one to not know this about you.

Cassian, like a moth attracted to a light, reached his giant hand out again wanting to get close to the wings that were so unlike his own.

"No touching" Azriel growled, his tone leaving no room for argument. Cassian withdrew his hand, a hint of disappointment flickering across his features as he chewed his lip in an attempt to avoid pouting.

"So does this mean... we can go flying together?" Cassian asked as the revelation came to his mind, excitement bubbling in his voice.

Your brow quirked slightly, a playful glint dancing in your eyes as a small smirk tugged at your lips. Cassian watched you carefully, anticipation written across his features, while Azriel pulled away knowingly.

You nodded slowly, a challenge evident in your gaze. "I’ll race ya," you declared, a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins.

With that, you pushed past Cassian and darted out of the room, your wings fluttering gracefully as you made your way to the nearest balcony. Without hesitation, you leaped off the edge and into the open air, the wind rushing past you as you soared into the night sky.

Cassian was quick to follow, a grin spreading across his face as he embraced the exhilarating freedom of flight. And not far behind him, Azriel joined the fray, his own wings beating with a steady rhythm as he soared through the air.

Together, you three took to the skies, weaving and darting through the night sky.

 𓇢𓆸

Rhys and Nyx.

“And stretch them out…That’s it my boy” Rhys spoke proudly as he watched his son in front of him stretch and extend his wings.

You had found yourself in the company of one of Rhys’ flying lessons, nestled on one of the chaise lounges on the balcony, a book in hand as you half-read, half-watched your High Lord teaching his son how to use his wings.

Nyx, though perhaps still a little too young to fly, was eager to learn. So desperate to be like his father and uncles. With Rhys' guidance, he tentatively stretched out his wings, mimicking his father's movements under the watchful gaze of the night sky.

Rhys, a picture of fatherly pride, stood by Nyx's side, his attention unwavering—until a sudden commotion from inside drew his focus for just a fleeting moment. In that brief lapse of attention, the sudden gust of wind caught Nyx and his perfectly poised wings off guard, sending him teetering towards the edge, a gasp escaping his lips.

Instinct surged through you like a bolt of lightning as your wings burst forth in a flurry of motion, carrying you across the expanse with a grace honed over centuries. With swift precision, you swooped in, catching Nyx in your embrace just as he hovered on the brink of danger.

Wide-eyed and breathless, Nyx looked up at you in awe, his innocent admiration pulling at the strings of your heart. "Pwetty," he murmured, his wonder mirrored in the glow of your own wings, illuminated by the moonlight.

You wasted no time in safely landing back onto the balcony, Rhys rushing to your side with bewilderment and shock etched on his features as a torrent of thank-yous spilled from his lips.

As Nyx pawed at your wings, you carefully fluttered them away from his reach, mindful of their delicate nature. Rhys, after the scare of what had just happened, or almost happened. Took a moment to truly appreciate the sight of your wings— beautiful and light, shimmering a pink glow that was a stark contrast to his own.

His relief was short-lived, however, as it became apparent that Feyre had witnessed the entire ordeal. With a swift scolding, she whisked Nyx from your arms, sending you a silent 'thank you' before retreating inside, cradling her son protectively.

"No flying lessons with Daddy from now on," Feyre scolded directly at her mate before she cooed at her son again. "What would we have done if Auntie Y/N hadn't been here?" she mused aloud, her words lingering in the night air.

Rhys glanced over at you, questions swirling in his head at how you had so quickly been there to rescue their son from danger. 

"They may be more delicate than your wings, but I am quicker, swifter, and more agile than you big Illyrian babies will ever be," you teased lightly, your words carrying a hint of playfulness.

"Thank the Cauldron you are," Rhys breathed with a soft smile, his eyes reflecting the depths of his gratitude. You gently patted his shoulder before ushering him inside.

 𓇢𓆸

Azriel.

“Gods you are beautiful” Azriel groaned, sweat beading down his temple as he looked at you. Your own eyes fluttering shut in pleasure as you continued to ride your mate.

You had both finally and officially accepted the mating bond, preparing Azriel’s favourite meal as a gesture of your acceptance. He had eagerly devoured the food, the golden thread connecting you both deeper and stronger than you ever thought possible.

You had felt his emotion rippling towards you that night. There was a sense of overwhelming gratitude, a deep-seated appreciation for finally having someone who understood him in ways no one else ever could. There was a feeling of relief, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, knowing that he had found someone who truly accepted him for who he was.

But above all, there was a profound sense of belonging—a feeling of being chosen, not just as a lover, but as a partner, a confidant, a soulmate.

As the night progressed, things escalated quickly. Your bodies entwined in a passionate frenzy. Finally, after months of yearning and longing, you found yourselves in each other's arms.

You straddled him, your breasts flushed against his hard chest, in an unbreakable embrace as his hands tightly gripped your lower back, moving with you as you rode out a dance of pleasure. His large wings stretched behind him, twitching slightly as a sign of his impending release.

"You feel so perfect, angel," he purred against your neck, peppering it with soft kisses before pulling away to watch your face.

Your features were contorted in a mix of pleasure and desire, moans escaping from your lips as you steadily climbed towards climax. His rhythm became deeper and more intense, bringing you closer to the edge.

"Azriel..." you moaned out his name, throwing your head back and arching your body as ecstasy coursed through you. 

“That’s it my love, that’s it…”

Azriel’s words got stuck in this throat as he watched you reach the peak of bliss, the air around you suddenly seemed to shimmer and a soft ethereal light enveloped your beings. Azriel's eyes widened in awe at the magnificent sight before him. Glowing iridescent wings sprouted from your back, their delicate pink hues dancing in the dim light of your chamber. They fluttered gently, casting a mesmerising glow that bathed both of you in a radiant aura of magic.

Filled with wonder and awe, he was sent over the edge, his own release filling you as he held the most ethereal being in his arms. 

"So beautiful..." Azriel breathed out, almost in disbelief as he couldn't fathom how you could be any more breathtaking than you already were. 

Your wings twitched and fluttered as you rode out the waves of pleasure, the intensity of the moment slowly subsiding as you rested your forehead against Azriel's, your breaths mingling in the intimate space between you. A blush crept across your cheeks as you realised what you had just revealed to him in your most vulnerable and intimate moment. The soft glow of your wings gradually settled, the dust they had created floating gently around the room like stardust.

"Azriel... I..." you began, your voice barely a whisper, emotions swirling within you like a tempest.

But before you could find the words to express the depth of your feelings, Azriel's firm yet gentle voice cut through the air, his eyes flickering with warmth and adoration as he spoke.

"Let me say it first," he insisted, his arms tightening around you in a comforting embrace. "You are my guiding light in the darkness, my entire soul's devotion...I..- I love you."

Your wings, now settled and slightly slumped with the weight of the moment, trembled at his words, the warmth in your chest swelling with each syllable he uttered. Tears welled in your eyes, reflecting the tear that had already spilled from Azriel's.

"I love you, Azriel," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "I am yours forever, in this life and the next."

Your lips found one another again, bodies and souls intertwining under the soft glow of your wings.

 𓇢𓆸

As your friends reminisced about the first time they saw your wings, Azriel, ever the gentleman, only vaguely danced around his recollection. He shared that it had been when you accepted the mating bond for him. The vague blush that covered your cheeks was enough to dissuade further inquiry from your friends.

"Am I the only one who didn't realise you had wings?" Cassian asked incredulously, only to be met with a pillow thrown by Mor.

"You really need to brush up on your Fae race history and anatomy if you didn’t know she had wings" she teased, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"I can’t believe it all had to be so dramatic though," Amren remarked. "I simply asked her to show me the first week we met, and she obliged."

You smiled nervously at Amren's confession, feeling the weight of your friends' stares.

"So you're saying we could have just asked all this time?" Feyre exclaimed.

You chuckled sheepishly. "I only hide them because they’re delicate... and you guys can be, well…"

"We can be what?" Mor's gaze teased as she leaned in closer.

Instinctively, you moved closer to Azriel for protection, but he seemed to find humour in the situation.

"Clumsy... not always spatially aware," you admitted with a sheepish grin.

"Is that so?" Cassian drawled, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he glanced at Mor.

"Show us your wings then," Nesta declared bluntly, slightly frustrated that Amren had gotten one up on her by simply asking you.

"No," you replied firmly, not wanting to suddenly bend to their will.

Cassian and Mor exchanged a knowing look, a mischievous plan forming between them. Without warning, they both lunged at you, their playful attack catching you off guard.

You cried out for Azriel's help, but to your dismay, he seemed to be thoroughly entertained by the spectacle unfolding before him. Cassian's firm grip on your wrists pulled you closer to him, while Mor's embrace from behind left you feeling both trapped and ticklish.

"Not spatially aware, huh?" Mor teased, her fingers jabbing playfully at your waist, eliciting a cascade of laughter from you.

Your please for assistance only seemed to amuse Azriel further, his smirk betraying the mischief dancing in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, my love,” he chuckled, his voice laced with mirth. “But the outcome of this is one you know I love seeing.”

Your friends playful assault only continued, your giggles filling the room. And in the midst of it all, your wings unfurled, revealing the delicate, pink membranes that had been the topic of conversation for the past hour.

They fluttered from your back, casting a glowing aura across the room and around you. They resembled delicate petals kissed by the soft hues of dawn, shimmering an iridescent pink that mesmerised anyone who laid eyes on them. 

“There she is…” Azriel murmered under his breath. A fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He could feel the pride filling his chest as he watched you, gazing at your beautiful wings in all their ethereal glory.

But it wasn’t just your mate gazing at your with love.

No, your family found themselves grinning ear to ear, looking at you with admiration as they watched you glow.

A glow they were forever grateful for.

a/n: not really my best work, but just some loveliness for you all to read! It was an idea I came up with that I instantly dumped on @illyrianbitch (as I always do) and she thought it was a sweet enough idea to write, so here it isssss!! Enjoy my loves <3

Hopefully will resume series writing soon - Lottie x

[utterlyotterlyx]

Sweet Creature

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - The bond snaps after a rather brutal breakup, and after witnessing you with another Vanserra, Azriel is trying to find a way to avoid being hurt once again.

Warnings - fluff, angst, pining, swearing, unrequited love, heartbreak, sad Az, happy ending (yay!)

Word count - 8.4k (oops)

Based on this ask

It had become so intense in the House of Wind that you had little to no choice in moving yourself to the River House. Between Nesta and Cassian's bustling sex life and the constant bickering arguments between Azriel and Elain, you decided that you needed some peace.

And fast.

Rhys had welcomed you at the door that day, his sort-of sister in arms surrounded by brown leather bags that he could almost envision you launching down the House of Wind steps just to escape as fast as possible. Flipping him off and smirking at his chuckle, you slipped around his form stood in the doorway and headed right to Nyx who was more than thrilled to see you, babbling incoherently and grabbing for you the moment you were in eyeshot.

"I take it that it's getting a bit loud over there?" Rhys turned to you, his shirt half unbuttoned and hands burrowed into his pockets. He was lucky. To have a mate and a child. To not have to live with the band of animals currently residing in the Night Court's most opulent residence.

"How am I supposed to get anything done wedged between that lot?" Nyx smiled at your cooing, lapping up all of your love and affection, "I'd much rather be here with my favourite prince."

Within minutes, your bags were taken upstairs by Rhys who was grumbling to himself about never being able to have any peace to which you blissfully quipped that you'd be out of his hair the moment he bought you a lavish apartment in the city. It wasn't as if he couldn't afford it after all.

Your position within the Inner Circle was irreplaceable. Not only were you Rhys' childhood best friend, the only one he could truly depend on before Cassian and Azriel flew into the picture, but you were also known as a witch. A powerful celestial being that had the capability to destroy and create as you saw fit with an affinity to sky and water magic.

The scales could have tilted in the wrong direction had you truly taken up Amarantha's offer to be her pet, the only reason you had confined yourself to that chamber Under The Mountain was to make sure that Rhys survived, and you played your part well, just as you always had.

A break was needed, the air in the House of Wind was almost suffocating, and no amount of your power was able to drown it. Elain was spending more time with Lucien, her mate, and Azriel was not happy about it considering that they were meant to be in a committed relationship. The barking insults and shouting had become too much to bare, so intense that your own power was itching for release in order to silence them for at least a couple of minutes.

"They're going to break up, aren't they?" Rhys certainly wouldn't be the first to tell Azriel I told you so, but he'd certainly be thinking it when the Shadowsinger would inevitably return to the River House just like you had to escape the nightmare of his life.

Humming softly, sadly, you looked up at Rhys, your godson in your arms resting his head on your chest, "I think so. Az hasn't been himself lately."

It was true, your friend had become a shell of himself, wallowing in self-loathing and doubt, and you cursed Elain eternally for turning him into such a thing. How anyone could hurt Azriel was beyond your scope of realisation, he was perfect in every way, devoted, kind, caring, and definitely a force to be reckoned with in the bedroom if your ears served you right.

Being attracted to Azriel was a natural bodily response, you had told yourself at least, it was difficult to not want to jump the bones of the illustrious Shadowsinger who kept a watchful eye on your every step. Like he was waiting for his moment to swoop in and save you.

But you had never needed saving, and you never would.

Elain and you had never really gotten along, it wasn't as though you hadn't tried to be friendly with the Made sister, she just couldn't stand to be around you. Maybe her own abilities clashed with yours, perhaps she was terrified of you. You couldn't blame her, the idea of you was one that stalked travellers and gifted nightmares to the young.

A celestial witch. In the flesh.

Anyone who knew you well enough would be able to dispel any wrongful intent, but Elain was not one of those people.

"I did warn him," Rhys' finger drifted to hook itself around Nyx's outstretched hand, and he shook it gently as he continued on, "A mating bond is not something to get entangled with."

"Az needs us to be his friends right now, Rhys. A breakup on its own is awful, but when it's so close, when he's been waiting so long for it, it's bound to hurt."

A firm hand on your shoulder comforted you, you knew how tough it must be for Azriel to go through it, after how painful it was to hold out hoping that he would be enough to suddenly not be, "I know, Witchling," you scoffed at the nickname as you always had and always would, Rhys pressed a dainty kiss into your hair, like a brother to a newly born sister, "Whatever he needs, I'm here, and so are you."

If you had known what awaited you that week, you'd take the telling words back in a second.

Like you had guessed, Azriel moved back into the River House, residing in his own room across the hall from your own. And boy, was he a raincloud if you ever did see one. Even his shadows looked solemn, and they didn't have faces. Azriel looked positively awful, constantly messy hair, large bags of onyx that imprinted onto the skin beneath his usually warm hazel eyes that had turned into nothing but dark pools of heartbroken sadness.

In the night, you had heard him crying, you'd stood outside of his door, not saying a word, but hoping that he knew that someone was there for him even if he didn't want them to be.

You had tried to talk to him, to coax him out of his haze by offering to train with him, or walk with him along the banks of the Sidra, you'd even asked him if beating your ass whilst you wore a mask of Lucien would bring a smile to his face. Unfortunately, everything you had tried had failed you, and you were at a loss as to help your friend.

"Honestly Rhys, how do you reach anything in here?" Rhys was hovering in the doorway, eyebrow raised with delight as he watched you try and scale the countertops to reach the top shelf of the cupboard.

There were chocolate chips for your cookies up there, and they had your name all over them.

"It's not my fault you're not Illyrian," his eyes darkened into a smirk, "Why don't you just hop onto your broomstick and fly?"

Even a silent Azriel emitted a gasp from his place on the opposite side of the centre island. If there was one thing you hated, it was being likened to the witches children sang about in their storybooks. It offended you how utterly unalike you were, and it made you seethe when someone, usually Rhys or Cassian, would use that hatred to rile you up.

"Oh," you stood on the countertop, towering over the High Lord by a few mere inches, "Is that why all of the doorways are so wide? Because your fat fucking head needs all the room it can get?"

Rhys stood speechless before you, the room fell silent.

Then a laugh.

Not yours of Rhys', you had to check it wasn't you making any noise before your eyes landed on the owner of the most joyful thing you'd heard in weeks.

A smile. Curled parted lips as a howling laugh ripped through them. Azriel's shadows danced to the sound, and his body shook with it. You could have cried, but you kept it together, you choked down your happiness to witness the momentary return of the one who meant the most to you.

It was no secret that you used to be Azriel's favourite. There was nothing that the two of you wouldn't do together, even if it was a medial task like taking you to the bakery or finding you a new Starfall dress that would make Mor dim in comparison. Azriel was always happy to come along. Until Elain, and then you had stopped seeing another, you'd drifted so far apart that he didn't even properly greet you anymore, all you were adorned with was a curt nod and tight lipped smile before Elain would whisk him away.

The male in front of you was nothing like that one, not in that singular glimmer of hope at least. Once his laughter died down, and a serene smile planted itself on his lips, Azriel opened his eyes and moved them to you, they glowed with something you couldn't quite understand, and then they widened. His eyes faltered. His smile faded.

Azriel gasped.

"Mate."

Darting your line of sight to Rhys, you pointed at him, flickering your gaze back to Azriel who had rose from his seat "Him?"

Rhys swatted your finger away, "I'm mated, y/n," Rhys glanced between you and took a step backward.

"So?" It couldn't be. Not right now. Not now.

"I can't do this," Azriel was struggling to breathe, his chest was rising and falling rapidly, sweat beaded at his brow and his skin had paled.

Scrambling down from the worktop, you went to take a step toward him, one that he mirrored in the opposing direction, furling his wings behind his back and clawing his shadows into submission, "Don't, Az. I can go."

The visible wince of pain that shot through you was enough for Azriel to suck in a breath and disappear from sight. The bond was dull, a golden thread soaring across the night sky to meet a shield of inked darkness. Azriel had closed you off. Shut you out.

Silence befell the kitchen, the chocolate chips you had gotten from the top shelf now scattered across the dark oak wood beneath your bare feet. Rhys had never seen you cry, he almost thought it impossible, but then he saw that single tear roll down your cheek, he could feel the pain radiating from you from finding your mate for him only to run from you.

"Hey, it's alright," he wrapped you into his arms, shushing you softly as he ran his fingers through your hair to soothe the quiet sobs rattling your shoulders, "It's going to be fine, y/n. Azriel's just confused, he'll be thrilled soon. Just you wait."

The snap had been gentle, like you had just come home after a long day, like you'd stepped through the door to see everyone you had ever loved all in one place and he was at the epicentre of it. Safe. Warm. Perfect.

Being a witch, you were never sure how life would look for you. Not even the cauldron understood your kind, you had always thought that perhaps the cauldron overlooked your species for the things most pure, like mating bonds and children. Witchlings were rare, you were the lone example of it, perhaps a part of you thought that you weren't allowed to have any love or joy, that you weren't good enough for it.

And there it was right in front of you, with the male a part of you had always yearned for, dancing in ash.

In the weeks that followed, Azriel did all he could to avoid you. No reason was good enough to make Azriel even glance in your direction let alone utter anything to you.

It had gotten to the point where you had asked Rhys for the keys to the cabin, you packed up your things and stepped through time to stand on that cold wooden floor with moonlight drifting through the small square windows.

You’d never thought that you could ever feel so alone, but as you stood there in a cabin so cold that you could see your own breath, the loneliness certainly began to set in.

There was little else to do other than light a fire to warm the little cabin on the outskirts of the city and run a bath; the tub was surrounded by candles, the ottoman at the foot of it was full of scented oils and salts which made your heart flutter. At least if you were to wallow in your own heartbreak you’d be able to do it smelling like the ocean surrounded by candlelight.

Bubbles crept up your neck as you sank into the wooden tub, it should have been a tranquil moment for you, but it was far from it in reality.

Az, please. Just talk to me. I'm still y/n, I'm still your friend. Things don't have to change.

Instead of enjoying the alone time like you should have considering that it was rare to have a minute of peace in a city full of needy children, you sat and let your mind wonder just how everything had gotten so messed up. You understood his confusion, really, you did, you understood how conflicting it must have been for him to separate with Elain, the female he was ready to spend the rest of his existence with, to then find out he was mated to you, not just you as his friend, but you as a witch.

Talk to me.

Too many tears had been spilled, you couldn't stop them from flowing from your eyes each time Azriel would fumble some excuse to get away from you. The bond was cold, it was like trying to break through a shield, an icy 10 foot deep floor that wouldn't even crack under whatever you would throw at it.

If you need me to leave then I will, Az. I'll leave for you, so you can have space, so you can think.

In the weeks that followed the revelation, you'd done all you could to try and get through to him, to let him know that you weren't expecting him to accept it, that he could take all the time he needed to process everything before speaking to you, all you needed was a sign that he was listening to you, that you mattered. It didn't surprise you that Azriel hadn't exactly thought about you in the predicament, of what it had done to you, and you couldn't even be angry at him over it because you'd be the same.

It didn't mean that it didn't hurt though.

Dark skies littered with blinking starlight was cast overhead, too beautiful to be real, too beautiful that you were sure that it was some kind of abstract painting on a black canvas. The cabin used to be one of your favourite places, Azriel and you used to escape there frequently, spending nights upon nights drinking Rhys' best wine and talking about everything and nothing.

A soft knock at the door pulled you from the memories, your eyes drifted to the clock softly ticking on the wall and you frowned, it was quite late. Lifting yourself from the tub, you wrapped a towel around your frame and padded over to the door, your wet footprints embedding themselves in the wood below. Slight disappointment sliced through you when you opened the door to see Mor, Nesta and Feyre on the deck shivering in the brisk breeze.

"We brought supplies," Nesta pushed past you, placing a wicker basket on the table and shrugging off her coat, "By supplies I mean wine, wine, and more wine."

Mor and Feyre entered, sniffing the air with soft smiles, they had always loved your scent, it was peaceful, like ocean waves lapping against the side of a mountain at dusk, airy, blissful, fresh.

The news had spread around the Inner Circle rather quickly thanks to Rhys, he had told Cassian, and well, Cassian wasn't exactly known for holding his tongue. The Lord of Bloodshed had apologised to you, feeling guilty for making things worse between you and Azriel, but you didn't mind. All you wanted was for the Shadowsinger to simply look at you. Anything else was a pointless worry. Not worth your time.

Tugging the towel tighter around your frame, you forced a smile, "This is really nice. Thank you."

Strangely, both Nesta and Feyre had been surprisingly supportive of the bond between you and Azriel. To them it made sense, you had been friends for over 500 years, you both struggled with fitting in, and you only felt truly comfortable to let your walls down around one another. To them, the bond had been there for a long time, waiting for the perfect moment. Too bad that the perfect moment had ended up making feel like the most worthless creature on the planet.

"Has he let you in yet?" Nesta rested her hand on your shoulder, her other hand was busy handing you a goblet of wine which you hugged closely to your chest and shook your head, "I'm sorry y/n. I really thought he would have by now."

"Give it time. He'll come around," Feyre draped her cloak over the arm of one of the dining chairs, smoothing out her skirt. It had always astounded you just how perfect they all were, the Archeron sisters that is, it was hard to understand how any male couldn't be attracted to them. They were quite heavenly.

"You've all been saying that for weeks," you shrugged off Nesta's hand, exasperated, "If anything he's become colder. Azriel doesn't acknowledge me, he looks right through me, he finds any reason possible to not be in the same room as me and when he sees me in the halls he turns on his heels and runs."

"I'm now living in this damned cabin hoping that some space will help him," your shoulders dropped, "I've waited my entire existence for this, I started to think that I wasn't worthy of it, and when it happened and the bond snaps with the one person I know that I could be truly happy with," your bottom lip wobbled slightly, but you choked it down and swallowed hard, "He ran."

Mor leaned forward in her seat, wide eyes under her perfectly sculpted furrowed brows, "It has nothing to do with you, y/n."

"How am I supposed to believe that when he won't even look at me?"

Something thick and fluffy draped over you, Nesta's robe that you always eyed was resting on your shoulders, "Go and get in your comfy clothes, then we can talk and bitch until all you feel is anger."

Amongst the chatter, you spied the three leather bags full to the brim of differing clothes and cosmetics, and then you realised that you weren't alone, not really, not when those three bags of clothes and trinkets belonged to the three females in the cabin with you, clearly ready to move in and stay with you until you were ready to face life again.

Who needed a man when you had three raging bitch queens?

Nesta was right, you just had to get back to work.

If anything was going to be able to distract you from that aching in your chest, then it would be work.

Luckily, Rhys, whilst he loved your abilities greatly, saw you as much more than just a celestial witch residing in his court, he likened you to a sister, blood family, which meant that he trusted no one more than you to act on his behalf when it came to court politics.

Holding such a position meant that you were rather close with the High Lords, they never saw you as Rhys' lackey at all, they saw you as a being that cared greatly about the continent who would stop at nothing to ensure harmony in all jurisdictions. Such a role meant that you were also required to entertain the High Lords whenever they visited Velaris, a place you had extended to them after the war to aid their research and better their own courts, with your help of course.

That particular evening, Rhys had asked you to entertain a certain High Lord of Autumn, Eris Vanserra; he was visiting Lucien and his new mate, Elain, and the entire visit was putting Azriel on edge. So, naturally, you couldn't say no.

"I always love our dinners, y/n," Eris' whisky amber gaze burned into you, searching the supernatural speckles in your own.

It was no secret that Eris had a flame for you, a being he found intriguing beyond belief, in the grasp of the Night Court when Eris knew how much you would thrive in Autumn by his side. The High Lord had offered Rhys pretty much everything he could to try and convince him to let him near you. All attempts had been swiftly denied.

Plates were littered with blotches of sauce and chicken bones, two empty bottles of red had been disposed of long ago, and you were just about to order that sticky toffee slice that made your toes curl when Eris asked, "When were you going to tell me about you and Azriel, hm?"

Candlelight drifted over the side of his face, illuminating his eyes against the darkening backdrop. "What are you talking about?"

Eris smirked, swirling the second glass of your third bottle that evening in perfect circles in his palm, "Come on, y/n. You reek of him, that cedar scent that even I have to admit is rather interesting."

In all of your self wallowing and sudden busyness you hadn't realised that the scent of the mating bond lingered on you, entwining with your scent of blissful oceans to create something new, something drowning. Something suffocating.

"I can admit that the news did hurt me, just a little bit," Eris, since the war, had allowed his hair to grow out. It sat just below his shoulders, layered and playful, he had it lazily pulled back low on his head. Something about that hair and those eyes made you question everything you knew, and you did know that you weren't the only one who felt like that when around the High Lord of Autumn.

Fluttering your lashes at Eris, you ran your fingers across the line of your bodice, "I apologise. It seems that fate wanted to lead me elsewhere."

Eris dismissed the waiter, eyes grinning at you through his lashes, "Let's go to Rita's. I need to drink some more, and you," he pointed to you, knowing that he was interrupting a rather important date with a rather important pudding, and said, "Need to loosen up, Witchling."

That fucking name.

You were sure that steam was emitting from your ears, but you couldn't deny that he was right, you couldn't really remember the last time you let loose and danced the night into oblivion. So you grabbed your purse from the table, a ornate gold cage that matched the intricate details of your skirt, and rose from your seat, "I hate how right you are, Vanserra. Let's go."

The High Lord towered over you, like all of them did really, stupid high fae and Illyrians and their stupid perfect genes making them so handsome and mysterious and utterly fuckable.

Stumbling from the restaurant at the edge of the Sidra, you looped your arm through Eris' and he practically had to pull you along the streets of the city or else you'd go and do a ritual in a field or something. Despite his crush, Eris found that part you a bit odd. In a way, you did too.

"When are you going to come to Autumn, Witchling? You know you'd love it there."

Eris propositioned you with the notion every time he saw you, he clearly thought that if he pestered you about it enough then you'd agree to it one day. Even just a fleeting visit would be enough to satisfy him. Just a day or two. You couldn't deny that Autumn piqued your interest, and with everything going on, perhaps a little break would do you some good.

"Maybe sooner than you think," despite the shameless flirting, you were glad that you could call Eris your friend, underneath that mask of loathing, you found the High Lord to be complex, and he appreciated your understanding. You were the only being that had ever approached him with kindness and treated him for who he truly was and not what he displayed. "All of this stuff with Azriel is spinning my mind. I feel like I'm going insane."

Eris hummed, tugging you a bit tighter into his side as he draped his arm over your shoulder, something completely platonic that you knew would send a certain someone spiralling, "That's what mating bonds do, y/n. I know that everyone keeps on telling you that he'll come around, I hope he does. Truly." It was the first time you had seen him say something and know that he was sincere of it "But, for tonight and tonight only, you are mine and we are going to drink and dance until we physically can't anymore, alright?"

Inhaling deeply, you met his gaze, "Alright."

Rita's was packed to the brim, you could feel the music thumping through the air so intensely that the ground beneath your feet was vibrating in time with the bass. Suddenly, you felt overdressed, but Eris commanded that you not think of it as he pulled you through the doors and past the guards who nodded at you with a curt smile as you clicked by.

In Velaris, you were quite known for being the wild one, the entire city was in awe of you and the powers you displayed so beautifully. More often than not, you would be found in the poorer parts of the city enchanting the children with your magic, curls of water would dance along their cheeks, and they would gasp when you would pluck a star from the sky and rest it in the palm of your hand. You knew what it felt like to feel alone and forgotten, being the last existing witch in your coven and all, and you didn't want anyone else to feel like that. So, if some water and a star would bring some form of happiness to those children, then you'd spend the rest of your life bringing them that wonder.

Eris tugged you through the grinding bodies, some of which parted as soon as they saw your eyes glistening in the lights, and stopped at the bar, shouting over the music to order drinks for you both before he turned, handing you a glass of what you could only assume was straight liquor, "To stealing you from the Night Court, Witchling," Eris raised his glass, rolling your eyes, you met it with a clink and wasted no time in downing the liquid, relishing in the burn that travelled down your throat and chest.

"Keep dreaming, Vanserra."

Hand on heart, Eris swayed into you, "Oh believe me, y/n, I do."

If you had known who was staring at you from across the room then you would have taken a step away from Eris, much like if you had seen the shadows followed you since you left the cabin that evening you wouldn't have agreed to go to Rita's. It was too late to do anything when your eyes connected with his, yours widened in surprise and solemn shock as his own narrowed, flickering between you and Eris before softening.

Of course, the first time Azriel actually looked at you was when you were stood beside Eris Vanserra, a High Lord, the brother of the one now laying with Elain.

Fuck.

It was like he didn't even see you really, he only saw Eris standing far too close to the one the cauldron had decided to be his mate. There was no way to be blind to the hatred between them, and with Azriel's temper and Eris' flare for the dramatics, you weren't surprised that Rhys had asked you to entertain the latter for the evening.

Noticing how your body froze, Eris frowned, he followed your line of sight to the Shadowsinger perched at a booth across the room ignoring both Cassian and Rhys who were trying to speak to him, to keep him calm.

Rhys. I didn't know.

I know, y/n. It'll be fine. We can handle Az if you can handle Eris.

Stiffly nodding, you turned to speak to Eris, to convince him to leave and find another place to drink, but he was gone. Then you saw his red hair moving through the crowd and you cursed, colourfully, and you scrambled through the crowd to try and reach him before he did something stupid.

Rushing up the steps to the usual booth reserved for the Inner Circle only, you stopped in your tracks as Eris' voice sliced through the chilled air, "When are you going to give our sweet y/n a break, Rhys? I keep on asking her to come to Autumn but she keeps on refusing."

Stop talking.

"It seems that she could use a break now more than ever."

Stop fucking talking.

"Especially since the bond is unrequited and she's sat in that little cabin day in day out wondering what her fate will be."

Wrapping your fingers around his wrist, you tugged on him, harshly, like you were reprimanding a dog on a leash, "Stop talking."

Little did you know, that one touch alone was enough to make Azriel visibly flinch and shudder with pain. That one act pierced his heart deadlier than Elain ever had or could, the way your fingers rested just over Eris' pulse, the way you looked at him with flame in your eyes, it was too much.

Eris wouldn't hurt you, you were the closest thing he had to a true friend, bit his loosened lips would be the end of you, "You both know that this isn't fair on her. Why is she the one who has to sit in misery and move to the outskirts of this city in order to make your poor Azriel more comfortable?"

Tension bubbled, Rhys was slowly rising from his seat whilst Cassian angled himself in front of Azriel, probably to stop the Shadowsinger from doing something he would come to regret, "Eris, you're making it worse," he finally gave you his attention, "Just wait outside for me, we can find somewhere else to drink, okay?"

It took him a moment, but your pleading eyes convinced him to listen, and Eris moved from your side, disappearing from you and leaving you stood before three Illyrians, all of which you were sure didn't wish to be around you in that moment. Fiddling with your fingers, you looked up from the ground at them, "I'm sorry. I didn't know that you were going to be here. You told me to keep him entertained, I'm sorry."

Rhys froze, his breath caught in his throat, and Azriel was glaring at him with such intensity that it made even you shrink, and you didn't shrink away from anything or anyone, "I'll go. I'm sorry," your chest ached when Azriel didn't even glance in your direction, instead keeping his gaze trained on his High Lord who simply nodded once at you.

Then you left, you grasped Eris by the lobe of his ear and dragged him away from Rita's before Azriel could make him pay for his words, or even worse, Rhys. It took only a few blocks for Eris to swat your hand away, "I'm not a child, y/n." Eris rubbed the red tinged patch of skin at his ear with a pout.

Velaris watched on as you bundled down a cobbled path toward the bank of the Sidra, a place you went to often to channel your magic, it was serene and beautiful, and had been the perfect place for you to find your calm in the midst of such brutality, "That is my mate, Eris. Do you understand that? Azriel is going through so much already, he lost Elain to Lucien," Eris cocked his brow in warning but you continued, "Elain was meant to be the one for him, and as long as Az was happy then I could choke down everything I had ever felt for him because he deserved all of the happiness possible after everything he's been through. I could live alone for the rest of my days as long as he was happy. Then it turns out that he's mine, that he was always meant to be mine, it should have been the best day of our lives," tears pooled on your bottom lids and you were sick of it, of crying, you had never cried, it wasn't in your nature but it was all you could do these days.

"Azriel can't even look at me, I had to move out of the River House and isolate myself from everyone I love just to give him a moment to think and process everything," you turned to Eris, "You just had to prod him, didn't you? You just had to get under his skin. Do you know how this looks? Elain chose Lucien and then he sees me drinking with you?"

Eris ran a hand over his face and sighed, "I didn't mean to make things difficult, y/n. I just want what's best for you, what you deserve."

"I know and I appreciate that, I really do. I just wanted things to get better, not worse."

It astounded Eris how Azriel wasn't over to moon to have you as his mate, you were elegant and graceful, a formidable opponent, tactical and sharp, and one of the most beautiful creatures to ever walk under the skies of Prythian. Perhaps he could have been a touch more sensitive to the situation at hand.

The moonlight waltzed over the rippling waters of the Sidra which acted as a mirror to the sky above, clear and bright, full of possibility.

The bond strained in your soul, empty and unrequited, a lone dying ember searching for its flame, and you knew then that Azriel was going to pull away from you more than ever.

"You should go back to the House of Wind," your voice was small and weak, "I'll see you before you leave tomorrow."

Eris took a step toward you, fumbling, knowing that he had messed up, "Please, y/n."

"Eris," he paused his movements, "Just go. I'll see you tomorrow."

Knowing that nothing was going to change your stubborn mind, Eris retreated up the embankment and down the cobbled path, leaving you completely and utterly alone.

Pebbles brushed together under your weight, moving flat to accommodate your position. You hugged your knees to your chest, unclasping your heels and tossing them aside, rubbing the skin on your ankles softly to alleviate the pinching that was once there.

How long could you go like this? How long would be able to deal with the rejection before it broke you? How long until you took Eris up on his offer and left Velaris forever?

You didn't have much time to think of an answer, not when a familiar cool pressure coiled at the small of your back, travelling up your spine and over your shoulders. The shadows drifted through your hair and you smiled sadly at them, at the sweet sign to tell you that you weren't alone.

"How did you find me?"

A shuffle sounded from behind you, shoes scraping along the pebbles, "This is our place. Where else would you go?"

You turned then, peering over your shoulder at him, examining him for a moment. Azriel certainly looked better, his eyes had lightened by a couple of hues and his skin was healthy an tanned to perfection, though, sadness and doubt still lingered in his eyes.

Silently cursing yourself, you turned back to the water. It was yours and Azriel's place, it always had been, until Elain came along that is and then it became your place. Whenever either of you had a bad day, the other would bring them there, to listen to the water rushing up on the rocks and watch the stars, and you'd talk, about anything that was bothering you and causing you any pain, and then suddenly you'd be alright again.

You rose from the ground, brushing little fragments of twigs and dirt from the golden swirls of your skirt, and Azriel gazed at you as you did, wondering how his best friend had become a stranger so quickly, "If I had known you were there tonight I wouldn't have taken him."

"I know," Azriel had his hands bundled into his pockets, afraid that if they lingered at his side then he would reach for you and risk a whole other world of pain, "I think we need to break the bond."

The world stopped moving.

"What?"

Azriel repeated, "I think we need to break the bond."

Break the bond.

It writhed in your chest, it writhed in pain and sorrow, striking you so deeply that you thought you may stop breathing, "I can't do it again. I can't be broken like this again, not with another Vanserra, not with anyone."

Thumping in your chest, your heart cried out, lurching around in its cage, and you struggled to form any words, "Az-"

"It's what's best for us, y/n."

No. No, no, no.

"How can you say that?" Azriel frowned, his hazel orbs softening, like he too was in pain, "I have done everything I can to give you space to process this, I moved out of our home, twice, to give you space to process whatever you need to process and feel whatever it is that you need to feel. I have gone 500 years being perfectly content of being your friend and that alone, because that was better than not having you at all. I stood by and watched you pine for Mor, and then her, the one who put such a wedge between us that I was reduced to polite hellos and nods. But I dealt with it, for you and your happiness. I dealt with all of the comparisons and pain, I dealt with the punishment of your feelings for her. I would deal with every ounce of hatred you throw at me if it meant that you would feel better, hoping that one day you'd realise that I have always been here for you, that I have always loved you in ways that no one else ever could."

You were pacing up and down the riverbank, pebbles knocking together as you walked, and Azriel stood before you unmoving, unknowing of what to say and only knowing that he needed it to end, "You never even gave it a chance," your choked whisper put him on edge.

Azriel had never seen you cry, had never heard of it happening, clearly Rhys had negated to tell him just how deeply the last few weeks had impacted you. To the point where you had actually cried. Tears gathered at your bottom lids and he noticed how you looked up at the sky to prevent them from falling.

"You never let me in."

Everything within Azriel was screaming at him to reach for you, the bond that he had frozen in place behind a wall of shadow was battering against the shield like a ram to break free and comfort you.

You were right, you had been his best friend, one of the few he could ever really depend on for everything. Elain had never liked you, she had always blamed it on her abilities not being able to harmonise with your own, but Azriel had always known it was deeper than that. Elain was a seer, and somehow it hadn't dawned on Azriel just how much she could have been hiding.

Elain hated it when he spent time with you, and being as in love as he was, he believed that it was down to some strange jealously that lingered on the surface. No one would have blamed Elain for her jealousy, you were truly a sweet creature, the other half to his marred coin that he had so carelessly tossed away. What if Elain had seen something and had chosen to lead Azriel away from you in order to preserve what she wanted them to share?

"I've given you everything I can," you sounded utterly defeated, "I don't know what else to do, Azriel."

His name was like a sonnet on your lips, one of heart-breaking sadness and longing, and he stepped to it, his shadows swirled around his body and drifted out to you. They had always adored you. They had always sought after you, a stark difference to their hiding from Elain.

"I would ruin you, y/n. You deserve so much more, so much better than me," his fingers twitched for you, he was so close yet so far from holding you, from inhaling the coconut scent of your shampoo and the scent of your soul, of soft salted breezes and jasmine, "I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted you to feel like you weren't worthy of love, and I'm so sorry for making you think that you were alone in the world," you had cocked your head to the side in question, "Rhys told me."

Azriel took another step forward, exhaling with relief when you didn't make a move to get away from him, "Love scares me. Elain had my heart in the palm of my hand and then crushed it, and then the bond snapped with you, with the one person I know would never hurt me, and I just couldn't risk it. I can't risk it. I can't risk being broken again, I can't risk hurting you."

All this time, when Azriel had been wallowing in the loss of Elain, of having to deal with her and Lucien's bond, he had completely neglected you, and your feelings. It was something you had never done to him, something you never could.

A gentle breeze flowed through the air, it carried your scent to him, and on inhaling it, he felt his entire body relax, he felt his aching disappear, and it was as though the world had gotten clearer. You turned away from him, hands folded over your chest and facing the river so that he couldn't see your tears, "I thought I was destined to be alone. The rules of your kind and the fae have never really applied to me, even the Cauldron doesn't understand me. I thought that it took the chance of love from me, but now I see that it was just some cruel joke."

Let her in. Feel her.

The shadows cooed to him, faintly, like a lullaby to a new-born babe.

"If it'll bring you peace," your voice broke, "Then break it. Break the bond. I'll find some other place to be."

Don't let her get away. Mate. She loves you. Love her. Let her in.

As though the world was tilting, Azriel let down that wall, he felt that bond slither over the seam of it to reach you, and then what he felt brought him to his knees.

Love. Wanting. Hope. Pain. Sorrow. Longing.

It consumed him with light, fighting off the demons that had been left to plague him, decimating them with the most pure substance in Prythian. Love.

When you heard his knees hit the ground you had turned and ran to where he knelt on the pebbles, meeting him as you slid onto your own, ignoring the stabbing into your skin, "Az? Are you alright? What's wrong?" You cupped his face in your hands and he felt each one of your fingertips flow life back into him.

The two tethers to the bond were dancing with one another, meeting in the middle and thrumming as two became one, turning dark skies into ones of bright sun and opulent warmth.

It was you. Sweet and fierce you. You who had always protected him, you who had always put him first even when he couldn't return it. You.

"Az? Talk to me, tell me what's happening. Do I need to call for Rhys? I'll get him right-"

Azriel stopped you before you could rise to your feet, the act of wrapping his fingers around your wrists enough to make your words vanish in your mouth, "You love me."

Settling into the space before him, knee to knee with him and his shadows itching to pull you closer, you didn't remove your hands from his, the feeling of it so powerful that it wiped all of your pain away, "I always have."

Walks along the Sidra. Visits to the bakery. The countless thoughtful gifts for Winter Solstice. The nights spent locked away in the cabin talking about dreams and fears.

Azriel's fingers drifted along your cheek before resting there, his thumb softly soothing the tightness in your jaw, "Why did you never say anything?"

"Because you deserve to be happy, even if it isn't with me," Azriel watched your bottom lip wobble, and that stream of love within him rippled with upset. His thumb moved to it, dragging across that plump flesh that he had always wondered of the taste.

Would you taste sweet or of lightly salted oceans? Of the air at dusk perhaps?

All he had ever chased was happiness, how foolish of him to be blind to the fact he had always had it within you.

"I think the only time I've ever truly been happy, at peace, has been with you. You've always felt like home," your eyes met and he offered you a small, genteel smile; his fingers moved to your hair, raking over your scalp and floating to rest on the small of your back, "I've missed you so much."

"You have?"

Azriel hummed in admittance, "The worst part of all of this was that I left the House of Wind to be near you, because I could be, nothing was in the way of us anymore, and I knew you'd be the only one patient enough to deal with me. It was selfish, but you've always been the rocks on which the ocean crashes, you've always been the one I can turn to without fear of judgement. You understand me."

"I can still be that person, Az. I can still be your friend."

Resting his forehead against yours, Azriel spoke lowly, like he had just awoken from slumber, "Do you know how hard it is for me to not take you back to that cabin right now and make you mine?" The carnal desire was dwelling within him, a rabid need that begged to be satisfied, "But you deserve better, y/n. Better than what I've done. So if you'll let me, I want to do this properly. I want to court you and make you feel like you're the only woman in the world, and when you're ready, not me, you, then you can accept it for the both of us. Because you deserve the magic of the bond more than me, you deserve this happiness."

"And if you don't want to, then that's fine. I can live with what I've done, and if you want to move to Autumn and find happiness there then I won't stand in your way. In no world would I ever stop you from finding love and passion and joy, because you deserve it y/n, you are everything that is beautiful in this world and then some. Every single part of you is destined for greatness, for a love so powerful that people drown in it."

"I hate what I've done to you, I hate that I've made you feel unworthy of a mating bond and I'll never forgive myself for it. But if you let me, I'd like to show you that I want this, that I want you, and you can decide for yourself if a life with me is something you want."

Silence fell between you but you didn't make a move to pull away, you knelt in place, peering up at him with your hands resting on his biceps, channelling the pulsing energy of the Sidra as it ebbed and flowed downstream, "A life with you is all I've ever wanted."

The bond glowed, golden and blinding, and Azriel was struggling to keep himself together as he basked in the ocean of your love and devotion, "Can I kiss you? Please?"

If he wasn't searching for it then he wouldn't have even noticed the tiniest hazed nod directed at him. Even the stars had stopped their flickering to focus on you, their most prized possession, the only one capable of harnessing their power and turning it into something blissful and good. It was why they chose you.

Closing the gap, Azriel tilted your head upward to give him better access to the lips that had often haunted his dreams; the scent of jasmine entwined with his own and he felt himself hold his breath as he closed that gap between you.

Your lips were as soft and warm as he had imagined them to be, they tasted of fresh saltwater and some kind of sweet fruit from the gloss you always wore that made them shimmer in any light. It stopped the world from turning for a moment, the universe watched on as Azriel sealed your fates. Moving his fingers from the small of your back to your neck and deepening the embrace of your lips, Azriel relished in the taste of you, in your warmth, in the way his soul sang and his shadows pulled you in closer to him. It was a feeling he had waited his entire existence for, one you had also yearned for.

Utterly magical. Soul consuming.

Everything made sense then. How everything you had both endured was meant to be, just so that you could end up entwined in that moment. All of the pain and sorrow, all of the false love and distance, all of the laughter and sweet memories, it was all worth it. It was worth every morsel of agony.

"Such a sweet creature. My sweet creature."

"Yours?" Azriel hummed, pressing dainty kisses to the tip of your nose and cheeks, and you closed your eyes to consume his touch and shuddered when his lips landed on your collarbone, caressing the skin there, "I think I could get used to that."

Authors Note

Hey besties!

I got very carried away with this - sorry if it's not great, these pain meds are really kicking my ass right now so I haven't even properly proof read this yet xo

Taglist

@crazylokonugget @fxckmiup @rogersbarnesxx @emryb

[randomgurl2326]

Next To My Wife

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: The one time Azriel let his two worlds collide…ALSO…Based off of this quote from EPIC The Musical: After everything you’ve done, how will you sleep at night/Next to my wife

Warnings: Blood, Torture

The dungeon is cold. Second only to the Winter Court. The sounds of a male’s cries and screams are music to the spymaster’s ears.

The cobalt siphons on the Illyrian warrior’s leathers shine bright down here. Like they knew what he’s doing and that he takes pleasure in it.

The male doesn’t let the guilt creep in. Not yet. Guilt is for the conscience. Conscience is for home. He can’t afford conscience at work. That’s a luxury only innocence can have…. His sweet girl, innocent—

No, he can’t think of her now. Never let the two worlds touch, is what he tells himself. Keep the innocent innocent. Keep the bloody bloody.

Never let them touch.

Azriel’s shadows envelop the faerie. The whisps talk animatedly as they watch their master work. Suggestions ring through his ears from the tiny shadows.

The whip, master, the whip.

No! No! Truth Teller, Master. Surely that will get the job done.

The shadowsinger grits his teeth and lets out a grainy, “Quiet.”

The shadows whispers lessen to a dull roar. Azriel’s shoulder’s tense as he speaks, “Tell me what you know about Beron Vanserra’s dealings with Hybern.”

The faerie hesitates for only a second before hardening his gaze and answering, “Fuck. You.”

The spymaster breaks two of the male’s fingers as a result of his defiance. Azriel tightens his grip on the faerie, “Wrong answer. Tell me before I rip out your fucking veins one by one.”

The faerie male cries out in pain. Finally submitting to the spymaster, “Alright! Alright! I’ll tell you!” The next one quieter, “I’ll tell you.”

Azriel presses down on the other male’s jugular, “I’m listening.”

“T-the High Lord wanted a deal,” the Illyrian senses the quiver in the faerie’s voice, “A-a protection deal o-or something, I don’t fuckin’ know.”

The dark whisps of shadows stir again, sensing a lull.

He’s lying, master.

He knows but doesn’t want to tell master.

If pretty girl were here she’d be able to—

Azriel squeezes his eyes shut at the mention of his girl. Don’t let the two worlds touch, he says to himself, leave the conscience at home. The spymaster’s eyes open once again, reminding him of where he is. What he’s doing.

Scarred hands press down harder on the male’s protruding neck, “Enough of the bullshit. Tell me what you know.”

The faerie winces, “S-security! Security… he wanted to trade Night Court secrets in exchange for security with Hybern. Beron wanted stability. He senses a war. I-I don’t know what secrets he was gonna share. I just know that they were heavy.”

The Illyrian’s shadows exert approval of the truth. Azriel grunts and twists the male’s arm backwards, pushing his leather boot clad foot down on his back and forcing his head down.

The shadowsinger smirks and leans down to the faerie’s ear, with a dark voice he says, “Thank you… But you’re no longer needed.”

He unsheathes Truth Teller and stabs it in the male’s shoulder blade. He waits a beat before slowly pulling it out. The agonizing cries of the faerie bounce through the otherwise quiet halls of the dungeon. His whimpers bring a twisted delight to the spymaster.

Once the dagger is fully removed, Azriel stands and gives one last stomp on the faerie’s foot for good measure.

“Someone will be here in the morning to either clean your remains or your wounds. Make sure not to bleed too much. I do like this dungeon.”

Azriel walks off and cleans Truth Teller with a rag nearby. Just as the Illyrian is about to exit, he hears the faerie’s pain-stricken voice, “After everything you’ve done, how will you sleep at night?”

Azriel stops at the exit and smirks. He doesn’t dignify the faerie with a glance as he says in his gruff baritone, “Next to my wife.”

[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 ;)

[7seas-of-ryy]

Another Hangover Cure

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Feyre and Nesta immediately agreed with the male.

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

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

"You told him?!" Cassian asked you.

You grimaced and gave him with a sorry look.

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

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

"Fine, but not for too long. You three have to come back by tomorrow." Az compromised.

"Deal." You, Rhys, and Cass all said in unison.

Azriel pulled you aside before you left.

"Please be safe my love. And as much as I am worried about the three of you together, I do want you to enjoy yourself still...just not too much. Helion can get handsy." He ended the sentence with a scowl.

"You're the only one I could ever want. I promise I will be safe and responsible." You told him

He placed a kiss on your forehead and helped you strap on your bag.

"I love you so much, have a safe trip." He spoke and then placed a loving kiss on your lips.

You heard Cass make a gagging sound and Az rolled his eyes at his brother.

You walked over to him and Rhys and the three of you started the journey to the Day Court.

Azriel, Nesta, and Feyre all stood watching you three leave.

"This is not a good idea" Nesta spoke

"Terrible idea" Feyre agreed.

"Lets just hope they learned their lesson last time." Azriel added

The three split up and went to do their work for the day.

Once you made it to the Day Court, Helion was quick to greet you.

"Ahh Y/N, my protege! I am so excited to teach you my ways." He announced and brought you in for a kiss on the cheek.

"Hands off, Helion. I promised my brother I wouldn't let you be all over her." Cassian told him

You all laughed and after the rest of the greetings, he led the three of you inside.

The warded box was laying on the table in front of you all while Helion examined it.

"Hmm this is rare and old magic indeed. I believe the reason you could not crack it was that it requires two to break the spell." He told you.

You let out a sigh in relief, knowing that it wasn't entirely your fault that you couldn't figure it out. The Day Court High Lord explained what you had to do and how these specific wards worked. You actually learned a lot from him and were grateful for this experience.

The two of you worked on the box and eventually broke it open. Rhys stored the contents of it in his bag and began to talk.

"Alright, well thank you for all of your help. This has been very-" he started but Helion cut him off.

"You're leaving already? I had a whole meal and night planned, which included the finest wine we have to offer." He told you three with a smile that showed all his teeth.

You looked over at Cass who was already smiling at you and then Rhys who looked to be contemplating his next words.

"It would be rude to leave when they went through all the effort of putting it together for us." Cass spoke before Rhys could.

"So its settled! You're staying. I have rooms for you all so you can stay the night as well. Our wine is no joke, you probably won't be able to have three glasses before blacking out." Helion stated, leading you to the dining room.

The four of you ate a lovely meal, sharing stories and enjoying the wine. It seemed every time you would drink it, it would fill itself up. Perhaps thats why a few glasses would get someone drunk beyond belief.

Before you knew it, you were already feeling tipsy. You could tell the others were as well, due to their pink cheeks and loud voices.

"Are you guys interested in seeing how the Day Court parties?" Helion asked.

"Absolutely!" Cass responded.

"I'm intrigued." Rhys added.

You just nodded and giggled, knowing the wine was taking over quickly.

That was the last thing you remember from the night. Well, you remember dancing and laughing, a lot of laughing.

---

"I can't believe they did it again!" You heard Feyre speak.

"I can. I told you it was a bad idea." Nesta added.

Azriel just stood in silence watching the mess on the ground with a smile on his face.

He didn't care that he had to come help you after you had a fun night. He trusted you and he trusted his brothers. He secretly enjoyed getting to take care of you for the day. He was just concerned with you getting so drunk that your shields would be down.

Your eyes slowly opened and the feeling of drinking too much wine last night hit you. You were laying on your back sprawled out like a starfish. Everything hurt and you had no idea what you were even laying on.

You slowly began to roll over and continued rolling as if you were going down a hill until you hit the floor. Once you looked over, you realized you were laying on top of Rhys, Cass, and Helion, who were all bunched into a ball, and there was a...door laying between Rhys and Helion. You weren't even sure who's limbs belonged to who, they were so twisted up.

They all started to wake up after you moved off of them and all were groaning and grunting in pain.

"Is this what you call strictly business?" Az asked with a smirk on his face.

"Don't tell me we did it again." Rhys mumbled

"Cass why are you wearing my socks as gloves again?" you asked, holding your head to stop the pounding.

"At least I didn't go through a wall this time." Cass said in defense.

"Actually..." Helion stated as he raised his pointer finger and pointed it at the wall behind them, "we both went through that wall. Y/N sure can make one hell of a ricochet ward."

"Helion, you told me you would watch over them so it wouldn't happen again!" Feyre scolded him

"After you told me about how these three party, I wasn't going to let the night go to waste. I wanted to have some fun!!" He defended himself.

"So that's why my glass kept refilling itself!" You said in an accusatory tone, pointing at him.

"Ok I'm leaving for 20 minutes to let you four figure out what happened and once I get back I want to know everything." Nesta stated and Feyre and Az followed her.

"Well, it could be worse than this, I guess." Cass stated

"Could it?" Rhys retorted.

You grimaced and looked around as a memory hit you.

"Helion, did I ride a pegasus last night?" You asked

"I believe you did and I believe it bonded with you." He replied with a nod of approval.

You looked over at Cassian and only then realized he was entirely orange.

"What happened to you?!" You exclaimed.

"I don't know!" He replied starting to freak out.

"I can help with that one. You said you could pull off any color so Y/N bet that you wouldn't look good if you were orange." Rhys said, his voice rough

You looked at the orange male with a sorry look and said, "oops?"

"Rhys, why are you laying with a door on top of you?" It was Helion's turn to ask.

"I was cold." Your High Lord told him.

The four of you were silent for a few moments, just watching each other.

"You have a black eye." Cass told Rhy.

"You're missing a tooth." Rhys told Cass.

"Y/N warded my hand to make it stick to whatever it touches so when I peed, it got stuck to my..." Helion admitted, his voice getting softer towards the end of his sentence.

"Oh, Y/N, no..." Cass said in horror.

"You have got to stop drunk warding things." Rhys added.

You covered your face with your hands in embarrassment.

"This is worse than last time!" Cass exclaimed.

"Our 20 minutes are almost up and we still don't have our story straight. I mean, I don't even know how they knew to come for us. Do you guys?" You exclaimed

Cass and Rhys shook their heads no.

"I think I let them know their assistance would be needed in the morning... but I might have also sent them our breakfast order." Helion explained.

"Breakfast sounds so good right now" Cassian groaned and the rest of you made noises of approval.

"Ok, heres the plan. We pull ourselves together and act like we had a normal night with a normal amount of drinking." Rhys told the rest of you.

"They saw you using a door as a blanket!" You whisper-shouted at him.

"It's not the best plan but its the only plan we've got." He replied in the same tone.

"I think they're coming. Act natural." Cass whisper yelled.

Feyre, Nesta, and Azriel all entered the room and looked around.

You were leaning with your elbow against a wall, resting your hand on your head. Rhys was sitting on the couch with his legs crossed, his ankle resting over his knee while he pretended to be deep in thought. Helion was leaning against a table pretending to read a book. And Cassian was standing in the middle of the room with his eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

"You're all idiots." Nesta deadpanned.

"Rhys, how could you let this happen again?" Feyre spoke dissapointed.

Azriel was quiet so the sisters looked over at him, they were expecting him to scold the group as well. When he didn't, Feyre nudged him.

"Do you have anything to add Az?" She asked him

He was still just smiling at your attempt to be normal and shook his head no.

"I just want to get my mate home as quick as possible." He stated

Everyone snapped their attention to him, even you.

"Mate?" You questioned.

"Mate." he stated with a huge smile, "in the middle of the night, I recieved a breakfast order from Helion. I assumed that meant the four of you were incredibly drunk. I was going to let you have your fun and wait til you got home to poke fun at you but this morning I felt it snap into place."

You walked to each other and he wrapped his arms around you, bringing you in for a kiss. The urge to be close to him was stronger than ever now.

"Let's get home." You told your mate, bringing him in for another kiss.

"Quickly please, before the two of you start devouring each other's faces in front of us" Cass spoke with a gross look, but you knew he was happy for you.

Azriel lifted you up and started flying with you, headed back to the Night Court.

"Do you want me to make you some food once we get home?" Your mate asked you.

"No, I just want to get home as fast as possible. I need you." You told him, his eyes darkening at your insinuation.

"You seem to be feeling much better than when you woke up. I think I truly am the best hangover cure." He joked.

--

After you got home, the frenzy started and lasted a little over a week. Once it calmed a bit, you finally showed up to the River house for a nice family dinner.

Conversation was flowing and that night out got brought up.

"You know, I really don't remember much of that night." Cass said.

"I know everything that happened." Azriel spoke before taking a bite of food.

"WHAT?! How?!" You exclaimed.

"After everything that happened last time, I made sure to send a shadow with you for your safety. It hung back and watched, it would alert me if you were in real danger. Before we showed up to get you guys that morning, it reported back to me what happened the entire night." He spoke so matter of fact.

"Show me." Rhys told the shadowsinger.

You watched as a grimace overtook the High Lord's face, watching your entire night get played in his head.

"Yeah, the three of us aren't allowed to be alone together anymore." Rhys stated with a horrified look on his face.

"We want to know!" Cass complained.

Rhys replayed everything in your and Cass' mind. There was nothing but silence for a few moments.

"I'm deeply sorry." You told Cass with a grimace.

"You pulled my tooth out!" Cass shouted, jumping up.

"In her defense, you did tell her, 'I bet you can't pull my tooth out.'" Rhys added.

Azriel pulled your chair closer to him, wrapping an arm around you. The three of them might be idiots but he loved them and felt grateful for his family.

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[blimpintime]

a jar of wind part one

Wynnie Lara is a fairy that was saved from a jar from Amarantha's reign of terror, but is soon figuring out that her time of peace is coming to a end.

warnings: angst, azriel sucks :p and unedited

word count: 1.4k

eventual Eris x OC

“Rhys! You will never believe what I managed to do with my-” I bursted into the kitchen with a warm glow, my green dress flowing around me and headed towards where he was sitting with a cup of tea.

“Wynn, I have been up with Nyx for the past three nights and days with him teething. I would love some silence. Please.” He said with a low voice and eyes closed in annoyance. 

“Oh! Right, yes. Sorry.” I wince, I twirl my finger and use the wind to brush through the mellow sounding wind chimes I have placed around the River House. 

The tension seemed to leave his body, and I placed a sisterly kiss on the top of his head, my ginger bobbed hair layering over his black hair. In doing so I managed to remove the growing headache from him and take it on for myself.

“I didn’t ask you to do that, Wynn.” He said softly.

“I know, but that’s what family is for Rhys.” I respond with a light touch on his shoulder and whisper words of encouragement as I leave. 

As I walked out of the River House where the sun is setting, I ran into Azriel and Cassian. I smile and my subtle pink glow brightens.

“Hello you two!” I say with a wave and notice the grimm look on their body language and my face falls and my glow dims. “What happened, who's hurt?” 

Cassian winces and Azriel gives me a sharp look, “Stay out of it Wynn. You do enough damage as is.” 

I flinch back and the wind around me goes cold, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

He walks closer to me and leans over to get in my face, “It means that whatever magical experiment you tried this time back fired and hurt Elain.”

“What are you talking about?” I whisper back. My mind reels trying to remember if I left a magic trial unattended in the open, but I draw a blank. Unless… 

“She snuck into my cottage?” I question brows furrowing. There was only one trial I left at my house and that was my attempt of getting my wind to play instruments on its own, but wind is finicky and if interrupted incorrectly can cause a spiral of sharp and messy wind.

“Snuck? Wynn, you let everyone into your home all the time, there was no reason to lock your doors.” Cassian responded. I go hot with anger. 

“So just because I host all the time means my house is fair game? There are wards around it for a reason when I am not home. If that is your logic here then allow me to go into your guys home whenever I feel and do what I please.” I snap back.

“You’re being unreasonable Wynn.” Azriel says while rolling his eyes. “It was just Elain. She is harmless.” 

“I do not care who it was Azriel, it is my home. What did she need from me anyway? I just saw her this morning.” I ask him and he storms by me to go inside the house. Cassian and I follow him.

“Rhysand!” Azriel yells. Rhys walks out of the kitchen looking a little better than he did before. 

“Why are we yelling?” He asks.

“Wynn has caused more damage to this court.” Azriel says and I wince back. Rhys turns to look at me with an eyebrow raised. 

I raise my hands in defense.

“Wynn, was it another silly experiment?” Rhys asks. My heart tugs and I nod, and I feel as though I should defend myself. They’re not silly, they are fun.

“Did I do something to personally offend you Azriel?” I ask softly. 

“Yes! Since you’ve shown up to this court all you have done have been attached to the hip with Feyre, surprised she hasn’t told you that you are suffocating. You’re nothing more than an annoying weed.” He spat, “You buzz in and out loudly all the time, you cannot read a room to save your life, your experiments are juvenile and lack actual use, and whenever you shrink down to your pixie form is the only time you're tolerable because we can barely hear you.” He said like a weight has been lifted off his chest. 

I can only stare at him, shock and hurt cover my face. The glow of pink on my body fades down to a low humming blue, and suddenly I am back in that damn jar. 

The jar I am in is hot and stuffy. I do not remember how I got here but I do understand that this is cursed glass and I won’t be able to be let out unless the lid is opened by the one who placed the curse or is killed. 

The jar sits in the middle of a long dinner table as decor, with being alive I always have a glow to me. When I am neutral and healthy it's normally pinkish orange, right now it’s bluish purple relating to my mood and terror. It hasn’t changed in the past decade of being here.

Being small and trapped in a jar and treated as entertainment by those who are desperate to feel power again is something I would never wish upon anybody. They like to cover the oxygen holes on the top and force me to dance or create wind art. Which is borderline impossible with the lack of airflow in here anyway.

“Tell me pretty, what other colors can you turn?”

“Az-” Cassian whispered.

“Fuck you Azriel. You know why I don’t go into that size very often and you of all people should understand why.” I spit at him, and he for just a moment looks guilty. 

“What? You all say this behind her back anyway. Now that I tell her to her face it’s a problem?” He looks at his two brothers. And they both won’t look me in the eye.

“Is that true?” I choke out with silent tears running down my face. Rhys looks at me and takes a breath, “There could have been more tact to how we said this but to put it bluntly yes.”

My wispy iridescent wings pop out of my back. And I start walking backwards towards the door, “I will see myself out then.” 

“Wynn, wait please let's discuss this more maturely.” Rhys says. Azriel scoffs in the background. 

“If it wasn’t for her, Elain wouldn’t be hurt again.” I flinch again feeling sick to my stomach. 

“I am sorry.” I choke out. Cassian reaches for me and I step back curling into myself feeling betrayed by those I called family. 

“No, that was completely uncalled for.” A new voice responds. I turn around to say Nesta and Elain. I look over Elain and all I notice is a few wind burns on her arms. She gives me a soft smile and I look down with a frown.

“Azriel, what is the actual problem here? Because I am fine. I went into her cottage because I forgot my tea recipe book there and completely forgot she was running an experiment.” Elain comes up to me softly and puts her hand on my shoulder. I lean into her warmth. Nesta stares at him with a cold hard glare. 

“He’s jealous.” She observes. Azriel looks shocked for just a moment before he stalks closer into Nesta’s face. To which signals me and Elain to step back and Cassian to intervene. 

“Enough.” Rhys says rubbing his temples again. “Azriel you were out of line with the way you approached this situation and Wynn maybe just be a little less, you.” 

All three girls flinch with the wording. 

“Have you lost your fucking mind Rhysand?” Nesta barks. “Wait until I tell Feyre.” 

By the time the two of them are arguing I shrink down to my pixie size and fly home to my cottage. I arrive at the front stoop back to normal size, and burst into tears against my front door barely making it inside before I collapse into a pile on the floor. 

In a panic I start shoving some of my emergency belongings in a satchel; clothes, my hygiene products, and my magic trials notebook. 

Frantically rushing around my small cottage I see a teacup Elain painted for me, with little orange and pink flowers all over it. I wrap it in one of my shirts and stuff it into my satchel.

By now the sun has completely set, and I take off my porch, my holographic wings sparkling in the moonlight and head towards some place I know will bring me some comfort. 

The Autumn Court. 

a/n: please enjoy! I have been thinking about this idea for a while! Leave comments, like, and share. if you have any questions plz let me know!

I do not own any of the characters that Sarah J Mass has created. but I do own miss Wynnie Lara :p

[solbaby7]

Lose Control

pairing: rhysand x shy!reader

warnings: nothing really, some swearing and the normal amount of thirst that comes with thinking about a particular High Lord naked and wet.

summary: Poor Illyrian baby Rhys who just really needs your hands rubbing his back—in the bathtub.

——

A deep groan pulls you from your crochet, the yarn ball rolling on the floor beneath you as you make easy work of the flower pattern Azriel had taught you a few days prior. “That bad?”

Rhysand nods, shoes scuffing against the floor before collapsing in the couch across from you. “Everything hurts.”

It’s no less embarrassing the second time around how quickly you set your items down, hands smoothing out the less than appropriate fabric of your nightgown when you stand. “I can get a bath going?” You offer softly, fingers crossing delicately before you and Rhysand can’t help the sleepy little smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth at the sight of you, all silky material and socks with fluffy puffs that had little bunnies dangling from them.

“That sounds nice bunny,” He murmurs, finger reaching out to flick at the little puff. “Can you sprinkle some of those little salts of yours in there too?”

“Of course.” You’re gone shortly after, crochet flowers long forgotten on the couch as you rush off to your room to fetch some bath salts, oils and a vial of bubbles. Rhys is still on the couch when you return, shirt off and pants unbuttoned as he laid on his back with one arm draped over his eyes. It takes more effort than you’re willing to admit to tear your gaze away from the hard muscles of his chest, his defined arms and abdomen so chiseled you wondered if the High Lord would ever ask you to massage that part of him too. You shake the thought off as you head to the bathing chambers, gathering large towels and pouring salts that smelled of lemongrass and oranges into the quickly filling tub.

It’s halfway full and beginning to steam when you add the bubbles, a content smile forming when you light scented candles and drag a stool over to hold a two knuckle pour of some expensive whiskey Rhysand kept near his work table. “It’s ready,” You call out, fingers dipping in the bubbly water to test the temperature and when you’re sure it’s perfect, you turn off the faucet, hands drying on the thigh of your nightgown.

He takes a while to enter, shoulders slouching and feet pattering against the marbled floors when he finally does, dark hair hangs on his forehead when he takes in the scene before him. “Bubbles too,” Rhysand murmured in appreciation, blocking you before you leave, a finger raising to bop your nose with a little smile. “Cute.”

The blush that fans across your cheeks is nearly as warm as the water in the giant tub built to fit the large wings Rhys usually kept hidden. You’re out of the room before he can make any comments about your body’s reaction to his words—his fingers touching you, no matter how fleeting it may have been.

You’re settled back into the couch when you hear the High Lord sink into the water, a breathy groan pulling free and your thighs clench together as you busy your hands with the yarn and hook. You don’t get very far, just falling into a rhythm when Rhysand calls out, “Can you come here?”

“What do you need?”

“Come here.” You swear you hear him chuckle when you huff out a breath, tossing your flower aside once more and your steps are a little snappier than usual when you stand near the door. “Inside.”

A pause, fingers twitching at your sides and you hope he can’t hear your heart thudding. It comes out no higher than a whisper, palms clammy at the thought of him—naked and covered by nothing but bubbles and water. “I’m not sure that’s appropriate.”

“Oh?” It comes out a little teasing, door creaking open by dark tendrils of power that urge you closer. “You’d dare deny your High Lord?”

“Well, no but—“ You eyes are trained on the polish of your toes when you’re fully pushed inside, the gorgeous male splayed about in the tub, feet outstretched and arms loosely holding each side but the first thing you really notice are the giant membranous wings peeking out over the edge. “Friends like you and I don’t really make a habit of spending time together in your bathing chambers.”

Rhysand clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, toes playfully splashing at the water. “Like you and I?”

Your nerves build—Rhys always did love riling you up, constantly murmuring some comment about enjoying the way you blush for him, the way you have to completely turn away to compose yourself when he offers flirtatious words in passing. “You’re my High Lord.”

“And you’re one of my closest friends.”

Just friends.

The words repeat themselves in your brain like one of the catchy songs they played in Velaris but every time they reach your ears it feels wrong. “Yes.”

“Exactly and friends help each other, right? You’re just helping.”

Your brows furrow, momentarily recalling when similar words had crossed your mind a week prior when Rhysand had stripped from the waist up and all but demanded you rub his back. “Wait a second—“

The water ripples as Rhysand moves, back muscles contracting as he twists to face you, a brow raised and a lazy smile on handsome features. “Come here bunny,” He beckoned you closer with that same two finger flick, head tilting just a little and even with this being the master bedchambers, the walls felt like they were closing in with each step forward. “Need your hands. Can you do that for me?”

And like a fly buzzing into a spiderweb, you’re caught in his trap.

Rhysand’s fingers curled around the glass left on the stool, tipping the bottom, a motion intended for you to grab the little stool and sit behind him. So, you comply, movements slow and weary as your hands touch the smooth wood and slide it over. The backs of your thighs sink into the smooth surface, shaky hands grabbing at the bar of soap sitting to his right. “What if someone walks in?”

“Let them,” He sighs, knocking back the whiskey with a little groan. “I’m sure Cass and Az are fighting over who gets you next as we speak—they’ve been talking about it all week.”

“Why not just hire someone?” You ask, fingers slick with the soap as you start at his shoulders with slow, kneading motions. “It can’t be healthy to always be so stiff—doesn’t it affect your fighting?”

Rhysand only nods, eyes fluttering shut and face contorting gently when you follow the line of where neck meets shoulder. “You do it much better. Must be because of your tiny little hands.” A noise pulls from his throat when slippery fingers knead away knots and bands of muscle wound so tight, you were unsure how he’d even managed to put his shirt on.

You repeat the motions over and over, fingers tracing over dips and ridges of his back before shifting over to his arms, your hair falling free from its confines to graze over the top of his wing and the sound he lets out is pure sin.

Your hands retract instinctively, soapy fingers slipping against your thighs when you scramble to your feet. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Rhysand’s breathing has quickened, chest heaving more than he had been before and the grip he has on the sides of the tub is sure to split the stone in two. “It’s fine—you didn’t hurt me. They’re just sore and it makes them a lot more sensitive than usual.”

Your heart is still pounding a beat faster than usual, hands hanging at your sides, unsure if you were supposed to continue or make your leave.

“Keep going,” Rhys urges, waving the arm you’d been oiling up in the air. “Just go slow.” You obey, hands carefully returning to hard muscle being extra careful when you got close to his wings—even if the noises he’d made from touching them had been branded in your brain for all eternity. “That’s it,” He praises, eyes half-lidded as he sunk deeper into the water.

It’s easy getting lost in the motions when you’re admiring every dip and curve, every scar and the stretch marks that came when growing from a boy to man. You stop once a little snore pulls free, lips parted and features relaxed as your High Lord slept.

The sound of your feet on the glossy floors pulls Az and Cass from their place in the sitting room, brows raised to your sheepish expression. “He feel asleep in the tub and I’m scared he might drown.”

Cassian raised a brow, smirk forming when taking in the soapy hands and the smell of the massage oils before frowning. “You don’t rub me when I’m in the tub.”

“You’ve never asked.”

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Punish You With Pleasure (Pleasure You With Pain): Part Two

A/N: I know it's technically WIP Wednesday, but what if I just post a whole ass update instead? That's right! We're back for more Rhysta! Sometimes, bullying does work. As a very important note, I have updated the tags for this fic. I know you can't see them here on Tumblr, but please know they now include the Major Character Death tag. If that's not your jam or if Rhysta still isn't your cup of tea, not clicking the read more and scrolling past this is free. Massive shout-out to the Nessian besties who helped me plot where this fic is now going and an extra big shout-out to @witch-and-her-witcher for beta-ing another chapter of this mess! Anyways! Onward to the NSFW smut-fest!

Read on AO3

“And then, of course, the table breaks, pieces of splintered wood everywhere.”

“It was a problem with the table. It wasn’t structurally sound.”

“Oh, sure, Cass. Blame the table. I’m sure it had nothing to do with you being drunk off your ass or anything.”

Mor and Cassian continue to bicker and tease one another across the table, arguing over the true events at Rita’s last night, but Rhys is quick to tune them out. He tunes out Azriel’s quiet, cool remark. He tunes out Feyre’s light laughter. Everything in the dining room fades away until his focus is solely on the female sitting all the way at the other end of the table.

Nesta hasn’t said a single word to him since she walked through the front door, but at least, she’s here. Clearly, his visit earlier in the week to her apartment was as effective as he’d hoped. Clearly, she followed his demand for her attendance at family dinner. He has to hide his smug smile behind the rim of his wine glass, taking a small sip of the red liquid.

She keeps her head down, gaze pointedly focused on the plate of food in front of her, aimlessly pushing around the vegetables across the porcelain. But Rhys doesn’t miss the way her grip around her fork tightens slightly, the barest hint of her lips pinching. He knows she can feel his gaze pinning her in place.

He dares to reach out and into her mind. Tall, iron gates reaching high and twisting dark vines and brambles greet him, but Rhys doesn’t allow it to deter him. He scrapes a talon dark as night along those mental walls, digging in just enough until he finds a tear. It’s small, but it’s enough for him to thrust the images into her mind.

The sight of her on her knees before him, tears streaking down her cheeks, lips stretched wide, and breasts bouncing with every hard snap of his hips, every plunge of his cock down her throat. The sight of her slumped over the back of her sofa, skin tinged pink and glistening with sweat, his come dripping from her abused cunt and coating the inside of her thighs.

A pretty view, don’t you agree? Almost as pretty as you sitting quietly here at dinner. Who knew all you needed to behave was a good fucking?

Nesta snaps her attention toward him, eyes narrowed in a withering glare. She shoves him hard from her mind, but Rhys knows he’s had the desired effect, the start of a pink flush beginning to pool in the apples of Nesta’s cheeks. He chuckles softly, taking another sip of his wine and turning his attention away from the eldest Archeron.

But his mind continues to linger with her.

Even here, in this dining room, the scent of her arousal still seems to cling to the air around him, still clogs his senses with the sweetness of it. The sounds of her moans still echo in his ears, the sound of her begging for him. He can still feel the wet warmth of her cunt, the way it took his cock, the way her walls fluttered and squeezed around him.

Worse still is the way his magic has swelled since that evening spent at Nesta’s apartment. It writhes in his chest in a way he hasn’t experienced since he first took up the mantle of High Lord, eager for attention and desperate for release.

Like calls to like.

That’s what his father always said. But whatever magic Nesta stole from the Cauldron, whatever power licks and climbs through her veins, it calls Rhys’s magic to rise in a way that’s indescribable. In a way that has him feeling dangerous and wanting more, has him wanting to learn what happens when their magic truly meets and melds. A siren song all its own.

So much power, so much potential.

“Rhys.”

Drawn out of his thoughts, Rhys turns to find a pair of bright, blue eyes watching him curiously, a soft smile. Feyre’s hand rests on his knee, and Rhys reaches for it, bringing it to his mouth and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“Sorry, darling. Lost in my thoughts I suppose.”

“Thought for a thought?” Feyre offers, a tease of their old game.

Rhys hums, giving Feyre’s hand a squeeze where it’s still held in his. “Just reminiscing really. Thinking about how far our family has come, to all be sitting here like this.”

Feyre’s expression softens even as she rolls her eyes fondly at him. “You’re quite the sap sometimes, but come on. Everyone is moving into the sitting room.”

Feyre pushes up from the table, heading out of the dining room and toward the voices drifting in from the other room. Rhys watches her go before turning his attention back to the table and his now empty wine glass there. With a quick wave of his hand, he conjures up something stronger, the burn of the amber liquid a welcome reprieve when he tosses it back.

When he steps inside the sitting room, his whole family is lounging before the fire flickering and sparking in the large fireplace. Feyre is perched on the arm of the large armchair, the invitation and open space for him clear, but Rhys’s gaze dances toward the other end of the room. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised to find Nesta near the window, as far away as everyone else in the room as possible.

With everyone else’s attention otherwise preoccupied, Rhys allows his eyes to shamelessly rake over Nesta. His gaze lingers where her legs are primly crossed. It’s been a few days since his visit, but he can’t help but wonder if the female has had any other callers to her apartment since then. How well she washed in that rusty tub of hers after he left. He wonders perhaps if his seed still clings to her after stuffing her full.

He has to swallow hard at that particular thought.

His eyes continue to trace up and up. There’s a pretty pink flush clinging to the swell of her breasts. He smirks. It’s clear she’s noticed his attention. But he keeps his attention firmly in place, watches the way her breasts rise and press over the bodice of her dress as she takes a deep breath in.

Finally, he flicks his gaze up to her face, a pair of stormy blue eyes already narrowed and glaring at him. He dares to reach out for her mind again, scraping claws sensually against those iron gates of hers. Her face hardens, and she shoves to her feet, not sparing anyone in the room a second glance as she strides out of the room.

Rhys allows a few seconds to pass before he turns on his heel, sauntering with ease through the winding halls until he reaches the front doors. Her back is half turned to him, but Rhys doesn’t miss the way Nesta’s body stiffens, her fingers pausing where she was securing the clasp of her cloak.

“What do you want?”

Rhys hums noncommittally, leaning casually against the wall. “Leaving so soon?”

“I came to your stupid dinner,” Nesta snaps, whirling on him. “Aren’t you happy?”

“Oh, Nesta. I’m ecstatic. But it’s quite late. Why don’t I walk you home.”

“I’m perfectly capable of walking home myself.”

“I simply want to make sure you’re safe, in my city,” Rhys offers, stepping closer until he can leer down at her. He drops his voice down into something cold, allows his power to rumble beneath the words. “It would be terrible if something were to happen. Don’t you think?”

From the way Nesta’s lips pinch, Rhys knows that his threat has landed, that it had the desired effect. He smiles down at her, all teeth and cool power. He doesn’t know what it is about the female that draws out this viciousness, that bids the line between mask and reality blur. Perhaps, like calls to like also applies to the matching venom twined like thorns around their hearts.

Another tense moment passes between them, but then Nesta is turning and yanking the door open, stepping out into the crisp, night air. Rhys follows behind her, pulling the door closed behind himself.

He allows Nesta to walk a few paces down the street, but as soon as they’re out of view of the windows, he grasps her bicep. Nesta has barely let out a gasp of surprise at his harsh grip before Rhys is winnowing them both. Right to the doorstep of her apartment. Nesta stumbles forward when he releases her, clearly not used to the sensation of winnowing.

“See?” Rhys drawls, straightening out the cuff of his sleeve. “Wasn’t that so much easier? And you didn’t even have to walk in the cold.”

Nesta straightens, glaring at him. “You’ve walked me home. Now, you can fuck off.”

Rhys tsks, shaking his head. “Now, Nesta, I thought we had fixed that smart mouth of yours. Do you need another lesson?”

“You wish.”

Nesta unlocks her apartment and steps inside, but Rhys is quick to slip in as well before she can slam the door in his face. He backs her up until she’s pressed against the wall, his body firmly caging her in. He grips her chin between his fingers, jerking her head up and forcing her gaze to meet his. His thumb drags across her bottom lip, tracing that line of pink that had been so prettily wrapped around his cock before.

He swears he sees a flash in her eyes when they meet his own. A recognition. A promise. As though she feels the same anticipation he does of what’s to come. Of what they could be. Of what they could create.

Already, the scent of Nesta’s arousal has begun to swirl around them. A scent that Rhys has been unable to stop thinking about, that’s haunted him and left him addicted in a way he’s never experienced. His cock twitches in response to that sweet scent, his power humming and flickering in his veins.

His hand slides down until his fingers can curl around her throat. Until he can feel the thundering flutter of her pulse pressed to his palm. Until he can feel each heaving breath she gasps in beneath his grip. He swears he can feel her own power beneath his fingertips, silver flaring beside his shadows, twining with the darkness. It’s a caress, a whisper, a lullaby to the beast within him to lure it forward. A key in the lock of the cage he’s always kept that beast in.

He swears he can hear her name on the breeze, the beast echoing the chant. The High Lord and Death herself. A pairing he’s sure even the Mother couldn’t have foreseen.

“Did you miss my cock, Nesta?” Rhys taunts, pressing his hips forward until she can feel his own growing arousal. “Miss it stretching you out and stuffing you full?”

Nesta whimpers, but defiance still burns in her blue eyes. “Your ego truly knows no bounds.”

“Lying to your High Lord? Need I remind you of the way you begged for me to fuck you last time?”

When he reaches into her mind this time, his power surges, talons tearing open those iron gates. In the expanse, it’s easy enough to share a vision again, the broken, breathy voice crying out. Please. It’s easy enough for him to root through her own memories, drawing forward the feel of his cock spearing deep within her, his balls slapping against her clit with each hard, rough thrust. The recollection of sensations is enough to have Nesta moaning softly, her heady scent growing thicker and stronger around them until Rhys can practically taste it on his tongue.

“Please…” Nesta echoes in the present. One simple word but it has that beast within him purring in delight. The prey within his grasp all but asking to be played with.

“Much better. Perhaps you learned something last time after all.” Rhys pulls his free hand back far enough that he can conjure a dagger, dragging the tip of the blade along the neckline of Nesta’s dress. “I know your sisters bought you new things, and yet you still wear this ratty old thing?”

One downward swipe of the dagger, and Rhys splits the dress in two. Hooking the metal into the fabric at her hip next, he tears the undergarments she’s wearing. He sends the dagger back into a pocket universe, finally releasing his hold on Nesta’s throat only so he can shove at the remnants of her dress, pushing it off her shoulders, down her arms, until it’s a puddle at their feet.

He watches the fabric as it flutters, taking his time as he raises his gaze back up. His eyes trace over her calves, up over her thighs. The inside of them are already sticky with her arousal, the dark curls covering her cunt starting to glisten. He continues upward over her stomach, to her chest and the flush painted across the skin there. Her nipples are already peaked and protruding, practically daring for his touch.

She’s indescribable, standing here naked and wanting and vulnerable for him. Whatever power she may hold over his thoughts, it’s him that’s in control here.

Rhys reaches forward, taking one breast in each of his hands. He squeezes and kneads at them, relishing in the heavy weight in his palms, in the shutter that overtakes Nesta’s body and the way she arches off the wall with a moan. He ghosts his thumbs over her pebbled nipples, the touch light and teasing.

“Please.”

Rhys tightens his grip, he pinches and tweaks at her nipples, tugging until Nesta lets out a broken sob of a moan, her hips thrusting forward desperately against nothing.

“Do you need something?” Rhys taunts, smirking at the dazed expression that’s overtaken Nesta’s face, cheeks pink, lips parted, and blue eyes out of focus. He shoves his thigh between her legs, Nesta’s eyes fluttering as she whimpers. “Go on, then. Get yourself drenched and ready to take your High Lord.”

Nesta doesn’t need to be told twice. She starts to rock and grind her cunt against his thigh, every swipe and circle of her hips smearing arousal across the fabric of his pants. He presses his thigh harder against her, practically forcing her up onto her toes, but it doesn’t deter her. She rides his thigh faster, chasing the friction against her clit.

Every moan and whimper that tumbles past her lips goes straight to Rhys’s cock, his length pressing almost painfully against the confines of his pants. He resists the urge to press his own palm against his erection, to relieve some of the ache. Instead, he returns his focus to Nesta’s breasts. He told himself he was going to fuck her tits the next time, but all he can really think about now is burying himself balls deep in her cunt again.

Nesta tosses her head back against the wall, her moans becoming higher in pitch. Her hips start to stutter against his thigh, and even through the fabric of his pants, Rhys can feel the way her cunt has started to flutter. It’s clear that she’s close.

He slides one his hands back up to her throat, squeezing tightly. “I don’t recall giving you permission to come.”

“Rhysand… Rhys… I need…”

“Don’t you want to be a good girl? You were so good, at dinner tonight. How about you be a good girl and sit on my cock.”

His words have Nesta moaning again, even as he pulls away from her completely. Her hips buck against nothing as he steps back from her, eyes glued to his tented pants, his cock twitching in response to her attention. This time, he magics away his clothes. It’s a relief to finally have his cock free, and he fists it lazily, giving into the heat rushing through his veins, the groan trapped in the back of his throat, as he watches Nesta lick her lips.

Rhys walks over to Nesta’s sofa, settling against the cushions with his arms stretched casually along the back, his thighs spread wide. He peers over his shoulder back toward Nesta, raising a pointed eyebrow. “I thought you had learned your place in this Court. Don’t keep me waiting now.”

Nodding her head, Nesta saunters around the sofa until she’s standing in front of him. She keeps her eyes on him as she slowly sinks to her knees, settling between his spread legs. Her hands slide up his thighs, nails biting against the skin, until she reaches his cock. She knocks away his hand so her own fingers can curl around him, slowly dragging up and back down, and then she’s leaning forward.

Her hot breath fanning across the head of his cock is Rhys’s only warning before Nesta swallows him all the way down. A long groan is torn from his chest at the wet heat of her mouth, at the feel of his cock hitting the back of her throat. And when she moans around him, the vibrations traveling all the way to his toes, there’s no stopping the way his hips buck against her, Nesta gagging around him only adding to the delicious sensations burning through his limbs.

“Fuck, look at you,” Rhys groans, threading his fingers through Nesta’s hair and holding her there. “I knew you missed my cock.”

Nesta moans around him again, looking up at him through tear stained lashes. She pulls back slowly, her tongue dragging along the underside of his cock, until he comes free from her mouth with a quiet pop. His length glistens from the ministrations of her mouth, and Nesta leans forward again, lapping up the milky liquid that dribbles from his cockhead.

Rhys watches her through dark eyes. Watches her eyelashes kiss her cheeks with each flutter of her eyes. Watches her hand slip down between her legs, her fingers toying with her clit. But that beast roars for more, demands he take what is his.

“As much as I’m enjoying the sight of you on your knees before your High Lord, I believe I told you to sit on my cock.”

Nesta swallows hard, but then she’s pushing up to her feet on shaking legs. She doesn’t even bother wiping her mouth, lips puffy pink and wet, her cheeks still mottled with tear stains. She hesitates for a moment before settling her hands on his shoulders, using him for balance while she clambers into his lap. Her hand reaches down, fisting his cock and lining him up with her entrance.

She circles her hips, dragging his cock through the wetness gathered there, so he can feel how absolutely drenched and aching she is, but he doesn’t have time for any more teasing. His own hands reach forward, gripping Nesta’s hips hard enough to bruise.

He pulls her down hard until she’s sitting fully on his cock.

The female lets out a sharp cry in surprise at the sudden movement. The walls of her cunt spasm and squeeze around him, the tight warmth exactly how Rhys remembers it.

“Gods, you just love to be stuffed full of my cock, don’t you? Look at how you take it.”

Rhys wastes no time in setting a brutal, punishing pace. Using his grip on her hips, he pulls her up and slams her back down, thrusting up his own hips to meet the movements. It’s indescribable, the drag of her walls against his cock, the way they flutter around him and seem to pull him deeper still with every inward thrust. He’s quickly growing drunk off her sweet cunt, off the litany of moans falling past her lips and mixing with the wet slap of skin on skin.

“You’re just so desperate, aren’t you?” Rhys growls, fucking up into her harder still. “Desperate for your High Lord. Desperate for his cock. Desperate to be filled to the brim.”

“Fuck…” Nesta moans, her hands reaching for her bouncing tits, palming them and pinching her nipples.

“Don’t try lying to me again. I can feel how soaked you are, feel what a mess you’re making of my thighs.”

“Rhysand, please.”

“We both know you can do better than that,” Rhys taunts, his voice dipping into the cool, authoritative tone of a High Lord. “Scream it.”

And scream it she does. Nesta screams his name until she’s hoarse, bouncing on his cock and kneading her breasts desperately. He knocks her hands away, instead enclosing his mouth over her nipple. He sinks his teeth against the skin, biting and tugging until Nesta lets out a high pitched shout. She arches fully against him, her cunt squeezing so tight that Rhys can’t hold on any longer. He pulls her down as far as he can against his lap, his cock pulsing and filling her deeply.

He thrusts shallowly a few more times, groaning and riding out the high of his release. When he lets go of her, Nesta slumps to the side, falling on her back on the sofa beside him. Rhys turns enough that he’s able to pry her legs back open, his gaze focused on her cunt. He watches the way it flutters with the aftershocks of her own orgasm, the way his seed drips out and pools on the fabric of the sofa.

He swipes two fingers through his come, gathering as much as he can, before he shoves his fingers back inside her cunt. Nesta whimpers at the sudden intrusion, but Rhys doesn’t let it deter him. He keeps his fingers pressed deep, leaning over her body and leering down at her.

“We don’t want to lose a drop, now do we? How else will it take?”

Nesta’s whimper shifts into a moan, her entire body shuddering in response. Her walls clench around his fingers, inviting them in deeper, holding his come exactly where it belongs.

“It’s what you want, isn’t it?” Rhys asks, daring to curl his fingers, Nesta bucking up against his hand.

“Yes,” Nesta whispers, her voice little more than a broken moan.

“Not just stuffed with my cock, but full of my seed.”

“Yes!”

Rhys swears in that moment her power flares and rises along with her voice. Swears it calls on and draws out his own, mingling in the space between them like a swirling storm of glittering shadows. Swears he can feel it like a caress, hear it like a whisper. It ensnares him. It’s a finger hooking and tempting him to dive right into the darkness.

Rhys’s cock twitches in renewed interest, already hardening again, and he’s never been more happy for his fae body and its way to recover so quickly. The fingers of his free hand curl around himself, stroking his cock until it stands at full attention again. He shifts fully up onto his knees, pressing Nesta’s leg up and back until its hooked on the back of the sofa, until she’s fully opened up to him.

Rhys pulls his fingers free from her cunt just long enough to replace them with his cock, holding himself still with his hips pressed firmly to hers. “Well, since you begged so pretty, we can make sure you’re really filled and overflowing.”

Rhys pulls his hips back just to snap them back forward again. The beast is fully unleashed as he fucks into her with a ferity he didn’t know possible. Nesta’s moans and shouts ring in his ears, the wet sounds of sex as his cock glides through his own seed, as it slams into the warm cunt of the female beneath him.

He’s half aware of her nails biting into the skin of his back, but it’s the scent that really has his attention. Not just that heady, sweet scent of Nesta’s arousal, but his own scent all over her, in her, mixing together into something that promises power and possibility. It makes him dizzy, pulls a growl from deep within his chest.

Nesta is little more than a mess of pleasure. Her eyes are heavy lidded, whole body rocking with every hard thrust of Rhys’s hips, of his hard cock spearing into her again and again and again. A litany of half choked sounds and sobs falls from her lips like a chant, but he doesn’t miss his name, the please. Somehow, it makes him harder still.

The selfish, stubborn female, the female with the fire of Death in her veins, fully submissive beneath him. All his for the taking.

Rhys can already feel himself climbing dangerously higher, can feel the heat building and writhing for release. Normally, he might feel embarrassed at the speed, but not here, not now. A few more thrusts and he explodes, stars swimming in his vision. Nesta’s cunt squeezes tight around him, practically milking his cock as he spills deep.

He gives himself a moment to catch his breath then finally pulls his softening cock from the blissful refuge. His cock is a mess of her arousal and the result of two releases, but it’s nothing compared to her cunt, beautifully stuffed full and dripping just as he promised. Rhys lazily strokes his hand down and back up his length, his cock giving a final spurt as if in agreement.

He gathers up that final dribble and smears it across Nesta’s lips. “Wouldn’t want to waste a single drop.”

Nesta is pliant, doesn’t protest as he presses those fingers past the seam of her lips and into her mouth. When he pulls his fingers free again, he drags the wet pads of them down her chin, her neck, all the way down the valley of her breasts. He hums quietly to himself, feels what thrums beneath the surface sparking at his touch.

“Perhaps you’ll have some use to this Court after all.”

[obliviouscxnt]

Nightmare Azriel x Reader

a/n: oh my god, I’m actually so shocked by the feedback from the last fic. It gave me the serotonin and motivation to write a part two :o I'm probably going to make this into a series, I have many ideas!! Maybe some smut if I'm feeling brave... thank you so much, I hope you enjoy! :))

can be read as a standalone, but without some context from pt.1 things might become confusing

synopsis: your need to help gets you into trouble

Warnings: strong(?) hints of sexual activities, minor angst, minor violence, fluff

pt. 1 | pt.3

 

In the corner of his eye, he can see you picking at your fingers. Your sharp nails do unnecessary damage to your fragile hands. 

He knew you were worried for Feyre, ever since she’d been taken to the spring court you’d been on edge. 

It went beyond a loyal subject worrying about her High Lady. You fretted for Feyre like you would Amren, or Rhys, or Mor, or Cassian.

Though it was endearing in a way, Azriel didn’t like the way that worry manifested. The way you unknowingly damaged yourself. Your bottom lip was split open from gnawing on it, the skin on your fingers was peeled back and inflamed, and dark circles found their place under your eyes from sleepless nights. Unable to really rest when your friend was in the jaws of the spring beast. 

His shadows reach for you, demanding to be with you. 

He let a few of them loose, watching as they traveled to you instantly. One settled at your hands, weaving between each of your fingers and curling around your wrist. Another rested on your shoulder, brushing your face. The others couldn’t decide where to settle, traveling over your body frantically as they tried to comfort you. 

The shadowsinger was about to pull them back, but as soon as they felt his pull they settled in whichever place they could. Nuzzling against you. Desperate to stay with you, comfort you. 

Azriel found it amusing, and so utterly relatable. 

He forces his attention back to the papers on his desk. Which was more than a struggle.

It was an impossible task, staring at building diagrams and reading reports from his spies, when the most magnificent woman he’d ever known sat not three feet from him. 

Then he felt your eyes on him, and he knew there was no point even trying. He wouldn’t be able to focus. 

He meets your gaze and arches a perfect brow. 

You wanted to ask him something. That much was obvious. But you hesitated, you didn’t know if he would say yes. 

“What is it?” 

You glanced down at your hands, then up at him, then back down at your hands. “May I go see Rhys?” Your voice is small as you ask.  

When you heard the shadowsinger sigh you knew what the answer would be. 

Azriel ran a hand through his hair as he watched you.

You had been asking that a lot recently, and at first he allowed it. He saw no harm in you sitting with his brother, helping him when he needed help, listening when he checked in on Feyre through their bond. He knew his brother didn’t mind, he understood your anxiety and shared it with you tenfold. But Rhysand had a lot to deal with, so for that reason, Azriel shook his head. 

“Rhys is very busy.” He starts, extending an open hand toward you. Smile tugging at his lips when you walk around the desk and place your hand in his. “Feyre is strong, she can handle herself.” He assures you as he pulls you to stand between his legs, letting his hands soothe your body. Letting his shadows join him.

But he can tell by how tense you were that his assurance wasn’t helping. 

His fingers thread through your hair. “You want to help Feyre, is that it?” His thumb brushed over your jaw as you nod. “Why don’t you pay her sisters a visit? I’m sure that would ease some of her stress, to know that you’re there for them like you were for her.” 

He watched some light enter your eyes and almost smiled in victory. You were so enthralled with the idea, you tried to run out of his office to visit them right at that moment. He caught you, pulling you back against him until you sat in his lap. “Tomorrow.” He breathed. 

You leaned into him, coaxed by his hands. Sighing as his mouth plants wet kisses down your neck, shivering when you feel his tongue come out to lick over your pulse.

Azriel let himself get lost in you. In feeling you against him. In bathing in your scent. 

He doesn’t let himself second guess his suggestion, even though there was a very reasonable voice in his head that was kicking him. A voice that berated him for being so foolish. That screamed to just let you see Rhys. That begged to keep you far, far away from Nesta Acheron.

But that voice is drowned out by his need for you. 

He groans when you turn around in his lap, straddling him, shimmering black dress riding up your thighs. His hands immediately find purchase on them, squeezing. While yours tangle in his hair.

You pant, lips parted as your eyes run over him. Stopping at his lips, his eyes, his mouth, his neck, the hands that squeezed your thighs when you looked at them. You were mesmerized by him. 

You needed him. Gods, you needed him.

He kissed you like a starved beast. You moaned when his tongue brushed over the roof of your mouth, eliciting a hum from him. His hands slid up to your hips so he could grind you against him, hiking your dress up with them. 

You feel him harden beneath you.

“What do you want?” He asks against your lips, kissing them again, then kissing along your jaw, and then kissing back down your neck. Latching on to the spot that had your hands gripping his hair, your thighs tightening around his hips. 

“I…” You try, but words won’t form, only sounds. 

He parts with your neck to lean his head against yours. Looking in your eyes. Pulling back a bit when you move to kiss him. Hands now holding your hips still against him, torturing you with the feeling of him pressed against you.

 Your eyes plead with him, your sharp nails almost digging into his scalp as you lost yourself, and he can’t stop the smirk of pure satisfaction from spreading across his face. “Tell me what you want.”

You shudder when you feel him twitch underneath you. “Please.” His hands squeeze your hips. “Please. Use me.” 

The groan that left his mouth had to be the most sinful thing you’d ever heard.  

*****

Anxiety chews on your mind, spits it out, and chews it back up again. You wring your shaking hands. 

Before you was the door that separated you from the Acheron sisters. 

You knew of them, knew what they were like from what Feyre had told you. And now that you were thinking about it, you didn’t want to help them. Not for their sake. 

But for Feyre… You’d started coming to terms with the fact that you’d do just about anything for her. 

However, that didn’t stop your heart from beating so fast you were afraid it would fail.

Azriel’s hands rest on your upper arms and he leans down to your ear. “Breathe.” You absentmindedly lean into him, relishing in the feeling of his lips brushing your ear. His breath fanning across your cheek.

“If you can’t handle this we’ll go back.” He says, making it very obvious that he wouldn’t mind curling back up in bed with you. You exhale a shaky breath as his hand slowly slides over your breast, your nipple hardens under the silky fabric of your dress and he traces it with his finger. You were seriously debating it. 

But your need to help in some way, to do something useful wins. 

“I can handle it.” You say, sounding not at all sure of yourself. 

But he listens, moving his hands to rest back on your arms. Thumbs drawing calm circles. 

You give yourself a moment to breathe. Leaning your head back against his chest. Feeling your stomach flip when his lips press against your head.

When you were finally ready he opened the door for you. You took one more futile deep breath, all the air in the world wouldn’t be able to tame your emotions, then walked in with a friendly smile plastered on your face. 

You immediately wished you’d accepted his offer to go back to bed when the harsh eyes of the oldest Acheron sister settled on you. There was no mistaking who was who. 

“What are you?” 

Her words were like a physical blow. Her voice, colder than ice. You step back bumping into Azriel’s chest.  

He rests a hand on your shoulder as if to say, we can still go back. But you’d made your choice, you were here to offer your help. If they didn’t want it, then fine, but you would still offer it.

“A friend,” You manage to say. Her cruel gaze felt like a physical weight on your being. So scrutinizing, so full of hate. It’d been a while since someone cast eyes like that your way. Azriel had been careful to make sure of that. “Of Feyre’s.” 

Her stare narrows on you. Drinking you in. You watch her gaze snag on your pointed teeth. You close your mouth. Whatever you were about to say dying in your throat. 

“Some friend.” 

Azriel glared at Nesta, the warning clear on his face. Say no more. He puts a hand on your lower back, guiding you to where the other sister sat, on a chair in front of a window. 

The weight of Nesta's stare never left you.

But when you see Elaine, all of it ceases to matter.

All thoughts left your brain. Not unlike how you got sometimes with Azriel—when all the pleasure became too much—but also completely different. It wasn’t Azriel guiding you now. 

It was what lived inside you, the writhing magic that was always thrumming under your skin. 

Your brain doesn’t register how the girl looks, hollow; as if someone scooped all the life out of her. Your brain doesn’t register a thing except the irresistible pull. 

You could feel it, or her, calling to you. Beckoning you closer. 

You couldn’t refuse. 

When your mind came back to your body, you stood directly in front of Elaine. Your palm cupping her face. 

Then you felt something awful slither into your head. It slipped through the crevices of your mental barriers and crawled into a dark corner of your mind. Hiding from you, even though you could feel it watching.

Nausea overcame you. You snatch your hand back like she burned you. Shuffling back toward Azriel who looked at you with concern.

Then Elaine's eyes closed. Nesta rushed to her sister as she went unconscious. Almost falling out of her chair. The older Acheron managed to catch her in time with help from Azriel’s shadows. 

You turned to Azriel. “I want to go.” Your words barely a whisper.

His eyes widen when he sees the fear on your face. The horror. His shadows encompass you, providing your body with a cover, a shield. 

“What did you do?!” Nesta shouted through pants of fatigue, having just lugged her sister to bed. You gripped Azriel’s shirt and he held you close to him as he led you out. Away from the screaming woman. “What did you do to my sister?!” 

***** 

“What happened?” 

You swallowed at your High Lord, glancing at Azriel. For what? You didn’t know. Help? Comfort maybe? Whatever it may be you didn’t receive it. All you got was a nod in Rhysand’s direction. 

So you turn back, struggling to find your words under his serious gaze. Not harsh, but very, very serious. “I don’t know. She looked so tired… I just—It felt like she was calling to me.” Trying not to think about that thing you could still feel hiding. Still, feel looking at you with eyes you couldn’t see.

He waved for you to continue. 

“She’s fine.” You say, and somehow find yourself completely sure of those words. Though you had watched her pass out with your own eyes. Knew it was your doing. 

“How do you know that? This is different. Even Azriel said he’s never seen you do something like that before.” You look down at your hands, picking at the already torn skin. 

You don’t dare look up when you feel Rhys rise from his seat. Feel him walk around his desk until he’s in front of you. It's when he speaks that you feel the need to meet his stare.

He holds a hand over your head. “May I?” 

Azriel steps forward. Looking as if he were about to protest. Rhys shoots him a look that makes him stop. 

Rhys needed to know what happened, to make sure you didn't harm his mate's sister. The bond took control of his instincts. Your word wouldn't suffice.

You’d never deny your High Lord a request. Never deny any of your friends a request. You never had before, Azriel always had to step in and do it for you. 

So when you stiffly shook your head no, well, to say they were shocked would be an understatement.

Your whole body was tense as if just the act of refusing took everything out of you. Required every bone, every muscle, and every bit of air in your body.

But you couldn’t risk that thing infecting Rhys. Not when you didn’t know what it was. Not when you could feel its hungry stare. 

You held your breath until Rhysand’s hand dropped to his side.

Your felt physically ill. The weight of what you just did settling on you. You stiffly turned to Azriel.

“I want to go.” You said for the second time that day. 

Azriel’s brows dipped as he looked at you, worry covering his features. His shadows were restless, flicking with agitation as they too struggled to see you so bothered. 

He glances at Rhys but the High Lord gives him a look of sympathy. “I need to speak with you.” 

The shadowsinger’s jaw clenched. Wanting nothing more than to refuse, to point out the state you were in even though it was as clear as day. 

But he couldn’t say no to his brother, not after all he’d done for them. 

He walks you to the office door, turning you to face him before you can leave. He leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your head. His words were nothing but breath against your ear. A whisper for only you to hear. “Go to bed. I’ll join you soon.” But you didn't walk away, looking unsure, nervous. “Go.” 

Your only consolation, as you left, were the shadows that parted with him and linked with you. 

Once you were far enough down the hall the High Lord spoke. “What was she thinking?” He paced in front of his desk. “She knows her magic is dangerous… did she even read those books Helion sent?” He swallowed as he remembered the limited information those three books had, the only books that made any mention of dreamwalkers. 

“Of course, she read them, you asked her too.” Azriel said, bite in his tone. Making Rhys sigh and stop his pacing. The High Lord sends an apologetic look to his brother as he sits on the front of his desk. “She wasn’t thinking,” Azriel says after a few moments of silence. 

Rhys raised a brow, silently telling him to elaborate. 

The shadowsinger leans back, remembering that look on your face. A look he’d seen many times, but never in a public setting, and you never moved on your own.  “She was in a trance.”

“Elaine could’ve done something to her.” Rhys thinks aloud, making Azriel straighten. 

Did she curse you? They still had no idea what gifts the cauldron bestowed upon the Acheron sisters. The last thing he wanted was for you to be on the receiving end of those gifts. 

Both Illyrian men sat in worry. 

“I’m sorry, I suggested she visit them. I thought maybe she’d click with them like she did Feyre.” Azriel says, running a hand down his face. 

Rhys shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. I know she wants to help. And not everyone can be as charming as Feyre.” At that, the brothers shared a strained smile. 

“How is she?” 

Rhys let out a deep breath as he picked imaginary lint off his clothes. “Alive.” 

Azriel couldn’t imagine how he’d act if you were in enemy territory, the thought making him tense, body itching to be near you. He’d die before he’d let that happen. 

“She’ll be home soon.” Azriel offers Rhys the words of comfort, even though they wouldn't do much.

Before Rhys could reply shadows scurried under the door rushing to Azriel.

The shadowsinger’s face went pale at their whispers. He shot up from his seat. “[name].” 

Then a loud bang was heard followed by a scream of bloody murder. 

The two males were rushing out of the room and running through the halls of the house within a split second. Somewhere along the way Cassian had joined them, shirtless and sweaty. Having rushed out of the training room the moment he heard the bang.

More bangs sound, but none as loud as the first one. And no more screams follow.  

Azriel found himself wishing for you to scream. If you were screaming you were breathing. 

He burst through the door of your shared chambers, almost knocking it down. He didn't stop to stare at the sight before him like his brothers did. There was no time to pause, not when you were being shoved into the tub by Hybern soldiers, their jagged nails gashing your beautiful skin. Their faces were unnatural and barely formed. Some were faceless, just flat skin and dark empty holes where their eyes and mouths should've been. 

Stood behind you was the disfigured form of the King of Hybern himself. His body was reconstructed by the nightmare, making his fae features more monstrous. More fitting for his character.

The evil king's smile stretched from ear to ear as you thrashed under the cold water. 

Azriel shoved his way through, ripping you from their arms and dragging you out of the tub. But the soldiers didn’t stop. Still reaching for you with their long slender fingers. 

Tears flowed from your closed eyes, your body twitching and shaking as you were tortured both in your mind and outside it. 

“Rhys!” Azriel shouted springing the High Lord into action. He rushed over, dodging the grabbing arms before setting both hands on either side of your head and forcing you to wake. 

Your eyes snapped open, gulping in as much air as possible. The figures dissipated into thin air. Like a flame being snuffed out. 

You squirmed away from the hands of your High Lord. Pushing against the firm body you adored so much.

You grabbed Azriel, holding him tight. So tight he wouldn’t be able to leave you again. Too afraid to worry about your bare body and the fact that both Cassian and Rhysand could see. Too afraid to notice the other person who stood at the doorway with wide eyes. Too afraid to do anything but hold him.

“Shhh. I’m here now. I’m here.” He held you tighter as your body shook with silent sobs. “I’m here. I’m here.” 

You know what happened now. What that thing was. Gripping Azriel tighter as the knowledge weighed on your brain. 

You tensed when he lifted your shivering body into the outstretched towel Cassian held. Azriel pulls you close to him when you recoil away from his brother's gentle touch.

Cassian watched Azriel wrap the towel around you. Heart heavy as you clung to his brother. A look of pure dread etched on your face, accompanied by a stream of never-ending tears. 

 You’re vaguely aware of Rhys rummaging through your drawers in the background. Vaguely aware of Azriel lifting you once more. Cradling you against him as he carried you to the bed. 

He took the medical supplies from Rhys and then asked his brothers to leave. They hesitantly obliged, taking the shocked Nesta Acheron with them and closing the slightly damaged door.

He lays you down on the bed, backing up a bit to open the first aid kit but you lurch for him. Arms tightening around his neck. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” He says, wishing he never had to say such words to you. “I’m right here with you.” Feeling his chest split in half when you reluctantly let him go. Bottom lip quivering. 

His hands are softer than usual as they patch you up. Frown deepening at every single scratch, and bruise he saw. His fingers brush over an already forming bruise on your waist. Bile rose in his throat as the image of those horrid hands grabbing and piercing your smooth skin filled his mind.

“I took it from her.” 

Your broken confession drew his attention away from the bruise and to your scared eyes. He felt helpless as he stared into them, he should've never left you. He cradled your face, thumbing away your tears only for more to take their place. He brushed those away too. 

“That nightmare. I took it from her.” 

next→

[thehighladywrites]

masterlist.

a court of thornes and roses

rhysand

ᜊ Beneath their smiles - your friends turn out to be using you, comfort and hurt

ᜊ Texting Rhysand - smau

ᜊ Sugar daddy Rhysand - big dick daddy rhysand spends cash on you and falls in love, breaking your agreement

ᜊ “Just one more, I know you can do it” - rhys has a massive breeding kink

ᜊ “This isn’t goodbye, this is simply see you later” - ex husband/baby daddy rhysand

ᜊ “I got you, darling…” - Rhys takes care of you on your period

azriel

ᜊ Texting Azriel - smau

ᜊ Texting Azriel pt. 2 - smau

ᜊ Need you so bad baby, please… - ovulation week hits you hard, you need your mate

ᜊ Azzie, I think your mom is super hot… - you meet azriels mother and develop a little crush on her

ᜊ I still remember the third of December, me in your sweater… - angst, just plain angst with a somewhat bittersweet ending

ᜊ “Tell me you’re mine” , “ i’m yours” - you dream that azriel was cheating on you and now you can’t look at him without being annoyed. It’s not really his fault, but still… azriel reassures you, promising that you’re the only one for him.

ᜊ “You can even call me daddy, give you someone to look up to” - sugar daddy azriel spoils you

ᜊ “If it’s so wrong, why does it feel so good?” - azriel is a stalker and pervy guy

ᜊ The sessions masterlist - nerdy azriel x bimbo reader

ᜊ “You were flirting with me?” - you doubt Azriel even likes you since all he does is stare into your soul. Azriel thinks he is very clear when he stares, why do you not understand that he is flirting?

cassian

ᜊ That’s your mother but she’s my wife first… - your kids loose their tempers, cassian reminds them who you are, nsfw, light angst, hurt & comfort

ᜊ The Airhead Chronicles: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5 - cassian is mates to a ditzy reader, and he loves her more than anything. How do they function together? - FINISHED

ᜊ “make her squirt on my balmain shirt” - cassian finds out you can squirt

eris vanserra

ᜊ Professor Eris x reader: part 1, part 2, part 2,5, part 3 part 4 part 5 - you hook up with this delicious older man for one fun night to forget your scummy ex, what do you do when the same man turns out to be your new professor? What do you do when that same professor had a dark secret? - ONGOING

ᜊ Vanserra brothers NSFW Alphabet - nsfw, crack, a sprinkle of angst

feyre archeron

ᜊ “let’s settle this catfight in the ring, let’s settle this in bed” - enemies to lovers, smut, angst, jealousy

elain archeron

soon

lucien vanserra

ᜊ Vanserra brothers NSFW Alphabet - nsfw, crack, a sprinkle of angst

acotar men x reader

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, sneaking out to a bar while you’re drunk - smau, multi men, tiny bit nsfw

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, using doe eyes on them - nsfw, multi men, headcanons

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, putting bows on their things - headcanons, multi men, cute asf

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, you being asexual - smau, multi men, headcanons

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, sassy man apocalypse - smau, multi men, crack

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, being their sneaky link - multi men, nsfw, headcanons

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, banning them from intimacy - multi men, nsfw, headcanons

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, meeting your parents - multi men, headcanons, crack, fluff

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, your child catches you in the act - multi men, headcanons, crack, nsfw

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, sitting on their lap - multi men, headcanons, nsfw

ᜊ ACOTAR men x reader, them as your baby daddies - multi men, nsfw

multi characters

ᜊ Breaking up with the acotar characters as a prank - smau, multi

ᜊ Texting “ She’s busy “ as a prank with the acotar characters - smau, multi

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, ” I had a really fun time yesterday. Oops wrong person ” - smau, multi

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, creepy man hitting on drunk reader - smau, multi, tiny bit nsfw

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, we need to talk - smau, multi

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, sending them nudes/lingerie pics - smau, multi, nsfw

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, asking them for hand pics - smau, multi, tiny bit nsfw

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, “can i get x’s number?” - smau, multi

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, doing elf on the shelf for your kids - smau, multi

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, random texts - smau, nsfw, multi

ᜊ nsfw visual links for them - multi, smut, nsfw,

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, “where’s my treat?” - multi, nsfw-ish

ᜊ ACOTAR characters using twitter; pt 1 | pt 2 - nsfw, swearing

ᜊ ACOTAR characters x reader, forgetting your anniversary - smau, angst, multi

throne of glass

multi:

ᜊ TOG characters x reader, sending them lingerie pics - smau, multi, suggestiveness

[dee-writes-angst]

FLOWERS SERIES MAIN MASTERLIST

Eris Vanserra x Pregnant Reader

When you show up on the doorstep of The Autumn Court pregnant and in tatters, Eris can't seem to help himself and agrees to take you in. Little does he know that your unborn babe might be a little closer in relation than he would like.

Content Warnings Include: pregnancy trope, single mother, violence, abuse, fire, Beron (those who get it, get it), Tampon- sorry I mean Tamlin, death, murder.

FINISHED!

Daffodils | a, h/c (?) | Desperately in need of a new place to call home, you accidentally end up in Eris Vanserra's care. |

Forget Me Nots | a, h/c, s, f | Eris shows you his favorite place in the gardens, and in the quiet, you reflect on how you got to where you are. |

Tulips | f, h/c (slight) | Dinner with the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court was going well- if not better- than you expected… until it wasn't. |

Snapdragons | a, h/c, d, f | Eris returns from a council meeting angry and hurt. Something has to give, will it be you or your friendship? |

Dicentras | a (!!) | Lucien shows up to the Autumn Court and secrets are soon revealed. |

Lilies | a (!!!), h/c, d (?!) | Moving on from Eris is impossible, the grief you carry around is unbearable even with the help of your new (ish) friend Lucien. |

Clematises | a, d, h/c | Eris processes new revelations while in a secluded cabin, when he finally makes his choice he ends up running into his father and learning the truth about what happened after he left. |

Rhododendrons | a, f, d, h/c | Lucien has found a healer whom he knows well enough to wake in the middle of the night. After ushering you in, you start to realize with a startling clarity that your baby is in much more danger than you had originally anticipated. |

Roses | f | Eris is settling into both life as a High Lord and a new parent while also juggling the repairs needed for your relationship. Good thing he's tenacious. |

DEDICATIONS: For those loyal readers who have been with me since the start of this series.

@purple-writer8 @defnotlucienvanserra @cherry-cin @julesvanslutta @mirandasidefics @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @littlestw01f @skylarkalchemist @babypeapoddd

LOVE THIS SERIES? Check out the spin-off COURTS SERIES with Lucien! Or you can look for more characters on my MASTERLIST <3

[utterlyotterlyx]

Another Love

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Based on this ask

Summary - Azriel knows you'd never leave his side, no matter what, but when his new situationship with Elain takes over his every living moment and he takes advantage of your feelings, you make the only decision you can to save yourself only for him to hurt you in a way you never thought he could.

Warnings - ANGST, mega fluff, swearing, neglect, abuse of feelings, mentions of death, slight grovelling (I’m more of an epic admissions girlie you all know this), lots of sadness.

Word Count - 4.9k oops

The clock ticked away, idly counting the seconds by, seconds that turned to minutes, and minutes that turned to hours, hours that Azriel had seemingly forgotten about the promise he had made to take you to the theatre.

The cobalt blue bow in your hair, that you had chosen to perfectly match him, swayed sadly as you moved about your room with a heavy heart, hanging up the dress you had bought especially for the occasion and changing into something more comfortable to wallow in self-pity.

It had become normal, his lateness, his nightly visits became later and shorter until they had stopped all together, well, that is until he needed something from you, and you would give him whatever he asked for, no matter how much it hurt you.

You had been a part of the Inner Circle for over 500 years, you were one of the originals, growing up in the camps with Rhys, Cassian and Azriel, Rhys' mother protected you fiercely, and you were very close to Selene, your chosen sister. You were the one they turned to for everything, you were wise and brutal, an incredible warrior and tactician, but also soft and kind; you were the blue break in a sky of storm clouds, you were the spring breeze that cut through the edge of winter, you were everything.

A thing Azriel knew all too well.

It didn't surprise you when Azriel had become fond of Elain, like it didn't surprise you when he had pined after Mor for all those years, completely looking over you in the process. Elain was a soft and fragile thing, she was quiet and graceful, and Azriel was completely besotted by her. A fact that made your heart curse your stupidity, cursing the hope you had willed into it that maybe he would finally see you.

It was no secret that you and Azriel were the closest out of all of the members of your growing family, you had shared 500 years of respect and adoration for one another.

Azriel was by your side when Selene had so brutally lost her life, he had held your hand through the depression and brought you back to life. Azriel knew every single thing that you loved and hated, he knew what every facial expression meant, he knew every tick of your body language which silently conveyed how you were feeling. Azriel knew you better than anyone, even better than he knew himself. The map of you laid etched bare on the back of his hand, a map he used to scour daily, but now barely even glanced at.

It wasn't so one sided.

You knew Azriel better than anything, and you knew a lot. 500 years of life pointed to a rich knowledge. You were the one who cleaned him up after a mission, you're the one who mended his broken bones and washed his turmoil away. You were the one who helped him overcome his insecurities with his hands. You were the one his shadows shot to at family dinners. You were the one who sang him to sleep when his demons had become to much. There was nothing you wouldn't do for Azriel, even if it meant standing on the side-lines until he wanted you.

Moonlight streaked along the floor of your bedroom, cascading across the pale blue of your comforter and drifting along the edges of your antique furniture. The dress you had wanted to wear to the theatre hung off the frame of your mirror, rippling softly in the gentle breeze that entered through the slightly ajar window.

It was silly to feel upset, you knew Azriel didn't owe you any of his time, but you had really thought he would pull through, especially after you had told him how much you missed spending time with him.

Interrupting your damaging thoughts, your door opened to reveal Azriel, who looked annoyed and not at all in knowing of his lateness or the promise that now lay in tatters in your chest. From the look on his face, you knew instantly that Elain was the one who plagued his mind, she was the cause of it every time he had come to see you recently.

Huffing, Azriel trudged to your cream living area, propping his feet up on the antique table you had asked him to be careful with far too many times and sinking into the cushions. He hadn't spared you a glance as he entered, he didn't note his colour in the form of a bow in your perfectly styled hair, he didn't see the sadness in your eyes laced with that naïve hope that he may have turned up to apologise for being late. He didn't see you.

"What happened this time?" You inquired, wrapping yourself tighter into your robe and sliding into the seat beside him, tucking your legs underneath you and propping your head in your palm as you stared at him.

Azriel was beautiful, scars and demons and all, the height of his cheekbones, those hazel oceans of a thousand emotions, the golden skin and arched brows, the curve of his muscles under his second skin, everything about him was intoxicating.

"Lucien," Azriel through his head back and closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose, "I was so close to kissing her, so close, Y/N. And then Lucien walked in, he ruined it."

The revelation had stung, he'd never admitted to you to being close to kissing Elain before, it was always a myriad of stolen glances and ghosting touches, of hushed words laced with a million differing meanings. But never a kiss.

Azriel paid no mind to the hurt that radiated from you, he knew it was there, he always knew it was there but he couldn't focus on it.

Only an idiot could be blind to the clear feelings you had toward Azriel, the way you looked at him was not the way a friend looked at another friend, no matter how close they were. Azriel knew that he could never truly push you away, no matter how much you were hurting you'd never leave, he knew that, he knew you'd always be there for him to fall into.

It was so awfully wrong, but he lapped in serenity you gave him, in that unwavering loyalty, and he had no intention to stop drinking from your fountain of love.

"Lucien is her mate, Az. He's bound to not like whatever it is that's going on between you," your voice was gentle and full of understanding, your hand rested on his shoulder and he felt any anger disappear almost immediately. That's what your touch alone could do to him, bring him immeasurable peace.

"I know," he sighed, opening his eyes and turning his head to the side to look at you, a small smile tugged at his lips when he noticed how pretty you looked, with your hair parted just how he liked it, and with a bow tied neatly at the back, "I still think that the cauldron was wrong," your face faltered when he immediately continued on his weekly rant, "It gets it wrong sometimes, we know that. It's wrong, it has to be."

All you wanted was for Azriel to be happy, he deserved it more than anyone you knew. Rhys had found Feyre, who you adored tremendously. Cassian had found Nesta, who had become a very good friend of yours. So, you couldn't blame Azriel for believing that Elain was fated to be his, three brothers for three sisters. Even you had to admit that it made sense, The Mother moved in mysterious ways.

You plastered a smile on your face, you vision catching the satin of your new dress moving softly against the breeze, "Maybe it is," Azriel hummed at your words before continuing on, listing everything he adored about Elain.

"I wish sometimes that she was you, you know? That her and I could be like this, with no one watching over us, to be able to spend time alone and do whatever we wanted to do and talk about anything," it was like he didn't realise what he exactly he was wishing for.

Azriel wanted you to be Elain, so that he could have the life he dreamed of. Elain. Not you. Elain.

You weren't good enough for him.

"I hope you get to that point one day, Az," your voice was strained from holding in your strangled sobs, "I'm tired, can we talk about this more tomorrow?"

"Sure," Azriel smiled at you, rising from his seat and heading to the door, standing in the doorway and looking back at your form still glued to your spot, "I like your bow, Y/N. Blue suits you, always has," and then he closed the door behind him, you waited a few moments before letting your sobs flow through your lips and ripping that damned bow from your hair.

Azriel would never see you the way you begged to be seen, and you couldn't sit around and be the one he fell back to when life wasn't going his way.

More days had passed, more days of Azriel complaining to you, more days of Azriel wishing that Elain and you had switched paths so that he could finally get what he was owed.

Azriel didn't care for your tear stained skin, he didn't care for your weary eyes whenever you spoke of Elain to you.

It was awful that he knew exactly what he was doing, he was abusing your relationship with him, he knew you'd never walk away from him, he knew you'd never be able to put your foot down and tell him to cut it out.

The idea of a mate had him completely obsessed, obsessed to the point that he became blind to what was right in front of him, what had always been in front of him. That blind faith in your loyalty crumbled in his fingers once Rhys had told him that you had decided to purchase your own home in the city, a home away from them all.

"What?" Azriel had asked from his place at the dinner table, bewildered by the news given to them once he had asked where you were.

Nesta knew the exact reason why you had decided you separate yourself from them, you couldn't handle the rejection anymore, and you couldn't begin to heal from the decades worth of heartbreak under the same roof as Azriel and Elain. Nesta knew you held no ill feeling toward her youngest sister, you were too kind for that, you knew it wasn't her fault that Azriel came to you each time something went wrong in their situationship, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

"She left, Az," Mor had cried when Rhys had pulled her to one side that afternoon to tell her that you had decided to move into the home that Rhys had bought you after you had made it clear that you needed your own space, and Rhys had spent an hour trying to convince his cousin that your decision was not impacted by anything any of them did.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Azriel asked his brother who frowned, Feyre grabbed Rhys' hand and squeezed it in hers, "She can't just leave, Rhys."

"She has every right to after everything she's done for all of us, she deserves some peace," Rhys spoke calmly, snapping his fingers and allowing the sentient home to rid the plates and serving dishes from the table.

Azriel was speechless, he felt a frantic pull in his body, one that was poisoned with desperation at the thought of you being anywhere else than under the roof of the River House, the home you had spent a century redecorating and perfecting, paying special attention to each room to make it feel as homely as possible.

He didn't believe it as his chair groaned against the floor and he took off up the stairs toward your room, pushing his way through the doors to find it completely empty. No pictures hanging on the walls, no lines of hooks containing an array of ribbons in different hues, no dresses draped over your mirror, no antique furniture. It was all gone, and the scent of you that was usually so strong that it drowned him was a whisper in the atmosphere.

You had left.

Anger bubbled within him, how could you leave without saying anything? How could you move out of your shared home without a single word? How could you leave him after 500 years at his side?

Azriel flung open the doors to your balcony, a balcony plush with fresh flowers and greenery, he flexed his wings and hurtled himself into the starlit sky, allowing his shadows to peel from his body and search every inch of Velaris until they returned to him reeking of your scent and pulled him down to a small townhouse along the bank of the Sidra.

It was a charming home, pale brickwork, large bay windows, golden light emitting from them, and a large garden full of rich wildlife and botanicals. Your scent flowed from the closed oak door, lavender and honey with a hint of firewood and he found himself following that smell up the winding path until he was knocking on your door.

Golden light flowed from the home as you opened the door. You were dressed in denim overalls that were spatted with cream paint, you hair was loosely bound on the top of your head, and your face was full of uneasy surprise as you looked at him, "Az, what are you doing here?"

Azriel pushed past you and stood in the centre of your hallway, listening to your deep exhale as you closed the door. The space was pretty, it was very you, the walls were half painted cream from their original sage colour that you were obviously painting over, the coving was white and saturated with intricate little sketches of leaves, the carpet was a rich brown and had clearly been laid that day from how interrupted it looked, the only pattern on it being the imprints of your bare feet. Azriel didn't stop his shadows as they extended from him and scoured each part of your new home, nodding with approval and curling around your fingers in understanding adoration.

White sheets were draped over your perfectly placed furniture, to protect it from the paint no doubt, and the same tarp lay at the foot of the walls to protect the carpet. Music drifted softly about the room, and boxes upon boxes of books lay open, with some of them idly placed on shelves to get them out of the way to be sorted properly at a later date.

"It's true? You've really left," he noted the intricately presented kitchen, white cabinets and exposed wooden beams, just like you always wanted.

You rounded him, walking into your new living space, bending down to pick up one of your plant pots before placing it on the window ledge, your back faced him but he could see the pain in your features through the reflection in the window, "Yes, I live here now."

"No. No. You're coming home with me, this is ridiculous," his heart was beating a mile a minute, he couldn't think straight, all that was consuming him was the reality that his fear had come to fruition, that the one person he believed would never leave him had actually walked away.

"I'm not coming back, Azriel," you told him softly, and he saw your shoulders rise and fall with each deep inhale of breath you forced your lungs to take.

Then you turned to him, in the middle of the home that you were trying to make yours, a home away from him, "I thought you'd never leave me. You can't leave me. You're my best friend, I need you."

"No, you don't. You need someone to fall back onto when life isn't going your way, that's all I am to you now," you felt your heart breaking, you felt it shattering in your chest, "I can't be the one you turn to when something becomes between you and Elain. I can't be the one you wish was her. I can't do it anymore, Az. You've taken advantage of me for too long. You promise me the world and show up empty handed. You don't realise I even exist until you need someone to complain to and I just can't do it anymore."

Azriel knew every word you were saying was the truth, he knew he had been using you, but he never expected you to actually walk away from him, you were supposed to love him too much to leave.

Your heart was in the palm of his hands and he knew it, he knew you'd spent hundreds of years falling deeper in love with him each passing day whilst he pined for someone else. The fact of your departure made a bitter monster appear in his mind, he allowed it to tug on the venom in his heart, he allowed it to control him, "Aren't you supposed to be in love with me?"

Azriel watched your eyes widen and a breathless gasp fall from your lips, "You know?"

The Shadowsinger scoffed, "Of course I know. Only a fool wouldn't be able to see it," he saw your face contort into painful sorrow but did nothing to stop himself from saying, "I've known for years. I've known that you'd never leave, you've always been the one that I come to for anything I need and you never complain or tell me to leave. You made it easy to take advantage of you."

A tear slid down your cheek but Azriel made no move to wipe it away, "I want you to leave."

"I'm not leaving without you."

Fire roared in your eyes, "You have no right to command me after what you've knowingly done. I honestly thought that you didn't know, that it was innocent and that you just needed my advice. Now I know that you've willingly abused my kindness, Azriel, you can rot in hell," the tears didn't stop flowing from your eyes, your voice was strained and sore, your chest was so tight that you thought it may stop beating all together, "Get. Out!"

Azriel had left you then, he had left your door wide open and soared into the skies, leaving you in the home that was now tainted by his deceit.

It had been months since Azriel had seen you, Nesta and Feyre had practically forbid him from going anywhere near your home, that being from the land or sky. But that didn't stop him from allowing his shadows to slither under your front door or linger in the streets, he was desperate to know how you were.

Azriel hated himself for what he had said to you, he hated himself for taking advantage of you. In some way he tried to justify it, you were too good for him, he didn't want to ruin you, but it was clear that he already had.

Your absence had left a void that no one could fill, not even Elain despite her efforts, even the thought of her made his stomach drop and sickness swirl to the point where he couldn't bring himself to be around her. All Elain did was remind him of how he failed you.

Azriel had tried writing to you since you wouldn't see him, he gave the letters to Feyre and Nesta, the latter of which still saw your daily, and grew colder toward him with each passing moment. Even Cassian did nothing to hide his disappointment in him, and Rhys had some very telling words to express once Feyre had told him the truth of what had happened in your home that night.

Nothing was working, things with Elain were strained and difficult, the problems between them so raw and everyone's opinions so disapproving that it created a distance between them that was unmanageable.

Then it dawned on him that nothing was working with Elain because it wasn't meant to. The person who was meant to be his had been under his nose for 500 years, and now wanted nothing to do with him.

Cassian had pulled Azriel from his thoughts by stepping through the threshold of his room, "Are you coming to training?"

"Tell me how to fix it," Azriel lifted his head from his hands and turned his head toward Cassian who sighed in reply, moving to the bed to sit beside Azriel, "I need to know how to fix it."

"Only you can figure that out, Az," Cassian spoke to him, throwing his arm over Azriel's shoulder before continuing, "Y/N loves you Az, she has for 500 years. A few months apart won't change that. You're really fucking stupid for this though, she's the only one of us who knew the exact right thing to do and say every time. Y/N deserves more than the basic requirements of respect, she deserves the world in the palm of her hand and a person who loves her more than he loves himself. Don't bother her unless you can do that."

It was the anniversary of Selene's death, and the day hadn't gotten any easier for you to deal with.

Rhys and you had made a habit of doing something together each year, though, Azriel was the one to accompany you when Rhys had gone Under the Mountain. The location was sacred to you, you and Rhys would bundle yourselves up in blankets and watch the sun set over the Sidra, you'd rehash old memories and stories, ones that you both knew the script to by heart, but that never got old.

Your High Lord had tried to convince you to come home, but didn't push you when you had told him no. Your life had began to feel rather empty without the family antics that consumed your day-to-day life.

"I miss her," you had told him sadly, your head rested on his shoulder as the sun tipped her toes into the water in the distance, the sky grew darker each passing minute.

Rhys hummed, holding you closer to his side, "So do I," he replied with equal sadness, you had all grown up together, you basically were his sister by blood, and when you both had lost her, it only made him clutch to you more, "She'd nail Az's balls to the wall for sure."

A laugh passed through your lips before it died in your throat, you had done your best to not think about Azriel despite him owning your soul, you had done your best to heal from what he had done, but even then, you missed him more than anything, "How is he?"

It was the first time you had asked about him since before you had moved to your new home which was now fully decorated and yours, thanks to Rhys, Feyre and Nesta who made it their priority to help you settle, "He's-" Rhys couldn't lie to you, he was never able to even when you were younger, "-Not great. He misses you, he hates himself for what he said to you that night."

"I'd hate myself too," you had hummed, shifting to stand on the stone ledge where you and Rhys had sat, wanting a better view of the sun as it began to disappear against the horizon.

A familiar cold kiss pecked at your ankles and you looked down to see those shadows you had missed so dearly meandering around where you stood. Cedar entered your lungs and you shivered in painful delight as his warmth curled around your back.

"Y/N," his voice was deep and rough, it was pleading, you looked to your side and found that Rhys had vanished. That damn meddler. "Please look at me."

Not able to say no to that voice, you indulged the Shadowsinger and turned on the balls of your feet to peer upward at him. Azriel had his wings neatly tucked behind his back, his hands dangled at his sides, and his head was hung low. He looked terrible.

"Why are you here?"

Azriel clenched his jaw, he didn't expect you to be happy to see him, but it didn't stop the self hatred from growing in every single cell of his body, "I know how hard today is for you, I just wanted to see if you were alright."

"Well I'm fine, so you can go now," you made a move to walk away, to take the path down the edge of the Sidra to your home which had become your haven away from reality.

Though, you didn't get very far, perhaps two steps before Azriel's fingers curled around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks and pulling you back to him, "Y/N, I don't even know how to apologise in the way that you deserve. I don't know how to say sorry and make you feel like I see and hear you."

"What I did was disgusting, I hate myself for it. I never should have taken advantage of you like that, you've done everything to help me the entire time that I've known you and I ruined everything for someone I don't even want. I've always wanted a mate, you know that, and I got so carried away with wanting it that I completely ignored the only person who's ever truly loved me for me despite all of the horrid things I have done. Elain isn't you, Y/N. No one compares to you. No one makes me feel safe like you do, no one makes me feel alive like you do, and no one can make me hope for death by their void like you do."

"I am yours, Y/N. I always have been. I couldn't be the reason you ever got hurt, I couldn't be the one to risk extinguishing that glorious fire in your soul. You are the only one I cannot bear to lose, the thought of losing you terrifies me, it always has, and instead of protecting you, I took advantage of you and pushed you away because I would rather hurt someone else with everything that I am than hurt you with just a a part of it."

"I'm so stupid for ignoring you, I'm a prick for using you as my security blanket rather than let you in, you know me better than I know myself, you love me more than I could ever imagine, and it terrified me because I couldn't let myself love you. I couldn't let myself taint you."

Azriel lifted his hands, cupping your face in his palms and you could see every inch of despair within him, that conflicted flame dancing within his soul, "I'm not asking you to forgive me, I don't think I will ever be able to forgive myself after what I've done to you. I'm not asking for anything from you. I just need you to know that no matter how severe your storm, I promise I won't leave your side, I'll stay with you through the howling winds that whip my cheeks raw and red. I will stay and hold you when the night leaves you shivering and give you space when when your searing heat pushes you into a fiery rage. I will stay and love you in whatever way you crave, whether that be from next to you or from wherever you cast me to."

"Azriel-" tears flowed freely from his eyes and you knew he meant every word he was saying. Every single word was being plucked from the core of his essence.

"I know that you're scared, and that you don't trust me. I'm scared too. But you're the only one I can face love with because I only want to feel it with you. At the end of the day I want it to be you and me, I want your early mornings and late nights, I want you on your good days and bad. I will never stop wanting you. I will never stop needing you filling my lungs like oxygen and giving me life."

Azriel dropped his forehead onto yours, and you felt your own cheeks dampening from your own tears at his words, "I love you, Y/N. I will always love you, even if you don't want me to, even if you decide to walk away from me I will not stop loving you. I am so thankful for you, and I know I haven't shown that, but if you give me one more chance, I will show you exactly the man you have made me into. I will give you the world you have always dreamed of. My soul is yours until you stop loving me. Please. Please."

"I can't stop loving you, Az. I've tried but I can't and I don't want to," his thumbs wiped your tears away and you found yourself reaching to rest your fingers on the marred flesh around his wrists, "One more chance. Don't fuck it up."

Azriel pressed his lips to your forehead, relishing in your warmth as you bundled into his chest, "You're mine."

"Take me home, Az."

"Yours or mine?"

You grinned against his chest, "How about ours?"

Authors Note

I really hope this does the ask justice x

Alternate ending incoming 👀👀