#rhysand acotar x reader

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura Pt 7

Summary: The fallout of your confrontation with Amarantha comes to a head, and just might push you that much closer to a certain High Lord.

Content Warnings: Torture, blood, mentions of SA

Author’s Note: Cauldron Boil me this chapter took forever to write on mobile 🫠 My laptop is down for the foreseeable future, but I’m doing my best to keep up on the updates, even if they will be a little slower for a bit. Thank you all for your patience! ❤️ As always, if you want to be added to the tag list, let me know! 😁

Master list

————————————————————————

It feels like a dream; a dream would explain the shimmering auroras of blue, violet and pink overhead; explain the music that floats around your as if it’s on the wind; explain the creature of darkness and starlight that drags gentle fingers through your hair. It would be a lovely dream, the kind you cling to desperately as waking beckons at the edge of your consciousness.

A dream would explain why a voice made for the gentle darkness of a bedroom speaks from everywhere at once: “I’ve got you. Don’t worry. You’re safe with me.” It might come from the creature who holds your head in its lap but you can’t be sure. Not when the clicking of heels on stone drags you further away from the music and the starlight. Not when the dream shifts and spins and feels a little too like your training exercises for you to be convinced this isn’t actually happening inside the confines of your own head.

It’s hard to be certain of anything through the fog that clings to you. The only thing that’s real and true is the pain shooting through your right arm. It’s so intense you try to curl in on yourself but that only makes it worse. Any movement makes nausea roll in your gut and your head spin. The loud booming of heels on stone doesn’t help.

“Oh poor little thing,” a voice croons.

And then pain flares in your spine, the air crushed from your lungs as something sharp and heavy presses down into the center of your back. You’re blind with pain, barely conscious enough to see what’s happening, let alone fight. The half wheeze half scream that tears out of you sounds like it belongs to a trampled animal.

“Where’s all that fight you showed last night?”

The pressure increases and the blurring in your already terrible vision is now more from tears than your own mental fog.

Something brushes against your mind, like phantom fingers brushing against your mental shields. “Get up! Fight her!”

More pressure on your spine. It’s an effort just to get a breath in. You’re going to be crushed like this.

“I can’t! Please. Please help me!”

There is no one else to help you, no one there to make any of it make sense. You can’t figure out where you are, why this is happening, everything feels so foggy.

The pressure on your spine finally lets up, let’s you breathe, just for something to hit you in the back of the head. Not hit. Kicked. The tip of one of those ridiculously pointed heels has kicked you in the back of the head. They’re starting to come into view, even as your temple clacks against the rough stone floor, the same awful shade of red as the hair flowing from her pale head.

“You’re going to be ok. I’ve got you. Breathe.”

The tip of her heel slides under your chin as Amarantha comes around to face you and the world finally comes into focus as she uses her shoe to lift your chin.

You’ve never felt so small and helpless in your life; you’re a bug and she’s a giant.

“Don’t let her see you cry.” Urges the voice. Now that you’re head is clearing, the fog rolling out slowly, you realize it’s Rhys, has been this entire time. “Stand up.”

You try, you really, really try, but getting your palms against the floor, moving the mottled mess of flesh that’s your right arm at all makes the world spin. If you’d eaten anything at all you would have thrown up all over the Queen’s expensive shoes.

Would have been worth it.

“Nothing to say to me now?” She coos.

“Rhys I can’t get up,” you whimper in your head. She’s going to crush you like this. Put your head under her heel and stomp down until your skull cracks like a watermelon.

You feel him tugging at things in your head, not throwing open doors to your memories, but rooting through the bookshelves, looking for something, anything he can reach to move you himself.

“You know, I’m feeling a lot better this morning. Turns out mated sex does wonders for the psyche.”

Your stomach rolls.

“Mother’s tits! Tamlin!” Rhys swears and as if his horror is your own, a shiver trembles down your spine. You get a flash of something like nails running across your skin, drawing blood, a scent of mirthroot and incense, and then it’s thrown out of your head in a rush.

“Rhys-” horror and the dawning realization rolls through you at once and that chasm in your chest that had snapped shut last night, the yawning, bottomless darkness rises up to meet you, calling your name. There’s a roaring in your ears, as if a strong wind had burst through the mountain. You can only see red.

“So I’ll offer you a bargain,” Amarantha is still speaking, her voice droning and lifeless in your ears.

You grit your teeth and put your palms flat on the floor, trying to get up again, fighting every slash of pain, the horrible tearing feeling in your gaping flesh. You get an inch, maybe two, your whole body shaking. The roaring in your ears won’t stop, it’s getting worse. Pain explodes in your jaw, fangs ripping through your lip. Your eyes are changing again, things suddenly sharper and clearer in your vision.

“You drink this,” she’s pulled a vial from some pocket realm, holding the black glass between the tips of her pointed nails. Nails you can now see still tipped in blood. There’s more of it splattered across her pale arms, a hint of it around her lips. You don’t know if it’s Tamlin’s or Rhys’s.

You manage to get a knee up under your body, then a second. Blood drips from the lacerations across your shoulder and back, cascading into the horrifyingly large puddle beneath where you’d been laying.

“Tie your powers to me and I’ll heal you right up.”

“NO!!! Don’t do it!!!” Rhys screams; it’s a strange sensation to have his voice so clear in your head, even as the mountain shakes beneath you, rattled by a dark power you somehow know in bones is him. It’s not a darkness like yours, nothing that lives in the deep recesses of his being, it is something natural and good that has been honed and sharped and when he unleashes it, you feel it skitter across your skin. You can almost taste jasmine and citrus.

Amarantha pauses her little victory speech to stare at the roof as it rattles and cracks, raining dust and debris down on your heads. She frowns, then cocks her head like she’s listening to something. Her eyes glaze over a bit, like she’s no longer here in the room with you.

If Rhys can reach you from wherever he’s being held, can he reach her too?

It’s that thought that gets you off your knees. Not standing, not really because you’re so dizzy that would be impossible, but you have enough in you to throw yourself forward and tackle her. It’s her head that slams into the stone floor this time. Her that’s helpless beneath you as your claws rip through your nail beds and you slash a hand across her face. The pain in your arm is blinding, makes your stomach roll and the room spin, your next swipe at her face sheer instinct, but you know it hits something soft, by the splatter or warm blood across your fingers.

She still has the advantage, her years as General of Hybern’s armies and the sheer amount of time she has trained to fight means you got this far because she was surprised, and she won’t stay that way. A claw tipped hand wreathed in flame latches onto your wrist, halting your next blow, the flames licking and crackling up your arm so hot you feel it in your teeth. It would be a surprise if smoke didn’t come out your mouth as you scream, feeling like you’re being cooked from the inside out.

Sheer desperation has you swinging with your other arm, but she’s already shifting her weight and your hand hits stone, talons breaking against the rock. It’s all too easy for her to get another flame wreathed hand around your throat and shift her weight so she’s now atop you.

The mountain still shakes around you. Her eyes are still glassy like Rhys is still trying to reason with her, even as she closes off your air way, nails tearing through your skin.

“You know,” she says as she leans down, lips next to your ear. “I like the struggle. It makes the surrender all the sweater.”

You’re on fire, skin blistering beneath her grip. Spots dance across your vision. But that cavern in your chest cracks, the darkness that lives inside swirling like a tornado as it flares to life, flares in response to your plight. It’s not like last time where you can take hold of it, it takes hold of you, filling you until there is only empty darkness and the sound of Amarantha screaming.

Her weight is off you, her hand no longer crushing your windpipe. You scramble onto your knees, coughing, gasping for breath. When the spots clear from your eyes you can finally see your hands, skin no longer but made entirely of an empty darkness, as if you’re made up by some sort of void. Stranger still, the fire that she had summoned now dances around your wrists and hands, twirling like it belonges to you.

Amarantha’s on the floor, groaning, a huge dent in the wall from where you’d, apparently, thrown her body.

Her dark eyes narrow to the fire wreathing your shifted form. It no longer answers to her, but you, as if you’d stolen in from her.

“GUARDS!” She screams and the door comes flying open, six of her personal guard running in with their weapons drawn. The Attor flanks them, a grin spread across its leathery face.

“Take her to the dungeons! She attacked me!!” Amarantha wails. Blood trickles down her face, your talons having ripped open her cheek, just missing her eye. Good. You’ll splatter more of it before this is over.

Your body feels different. The pain so dull now you start to wonder if it was even real in the first place. None of this feels entirely real as you manage to get on your feet, flames still dancing across your changed body.

They aim spears at your head as one of them approaches with chains. Not normal iron chains, either, the shackles a strange bluish color. You can smell something on them, something decaying and rotten that makes your nose crinkle. All your senses are sharpened when you’re like this, every smell sharp and clear.

“You attacked me!” You say, even though you know it’s useless; your voice raw from how hard she’d held you by the throat. Strangely, the burns that should be blistering across your skin don’t feel like burns anymore. The flames you stole lick over the affected areas, winding back and forth like they’re capable of healing the damage.

The guards move closer, each step calculated. Their grey eyes are narrowed to your hands, eyeing them like snakes poised to strike. You can fight them, the power thrumming in your veins tells you it’ll be easy, as if it’s an entity entirely separate from your own consciousness, but the disastrous effects of yesterday are still heavy on your mind, as muddled as the end of it still is. You were in this predicament because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut; Rhys was in this predicament because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

You raise your hands, palms up in a move that you hoped would be compliant, but the way they raise their spears, the way the Attor spreads it’s wings and hisses, makes you think better about it. You lower your hands to your sides and look at Amarantha. The grin on her face makes you want to lunge for her throat and claw out her eyes. Your power roars in your ears again, she’s hurt your—

The power balks, retreats as if it had just realized something it didn’t want to touch. The fire vanishes from your hands along with the inky darkness, the power seeping back under your skin until there is no longer a glimpse of it. Your teeth ache as your fangs retract; fingers feel like they’re breaking as your battered talons disappear. Even if you had planned to fight, it would have been useless, you don’t attempt to fight to hold it.

“Good, little mouse,” she purrs.

You grit your aching teeth as the guard hurriedly snaps the cuffs on your wrist. Any lingering hint of power leeches from your body, leaving only the cold press of iron.

Amarantha stalks over once she’s sure they’re secure, sure you’re as helpless as she wishes you to be.

The mountain still shakes around you, but you can’t hear Rhys anymore. Can’t reach into your own shields to search for him, any hint of magic is far beyond your reach.

“Looks like my offer is of no use to you now,” she drags a finger over what should be your ruined shoulder, but the mottled flesh is now pink, your gaping wounds stitched back together. It’ll scar, but that’ll be the end of it.

“So maybe I can change your mind another way, hmm?”

It’s an effort not to tremble.

“Take her to Rhys,” she orders as she snatches a handkerchief from one of them and dabs her bleeding face with it. Her wounds are already healing. “Since he seems alive enough to try and bargain with me.”

Cold dread seeps through you as they drag you down the halls. Heads peak out of doors to watch as your led past, some of the faces you have a vague memory of seeing watch you in the pit. No one comes to your aid; no one will even give you a pitying glance. A couple of them smile. Better you than them, their faces seem to say.

Your whole body feels cold and empty, strained beyond belief. Still, you try and keep your head up best you can as you go deeper and deeper into the mountain.

You can see your breath around your head by the time they finally stop in front of a worn, time scarred door. There’s a heap of rubble in front of it, the walkways half caved in with heaps of rock and debris. The iron is oddly shaped, lumpy almost, like something had been bashed into it over and over from inside.

It’s not until the door is dragged open, with the help of four guards because of all the damage, that your realize that something had been Rhys’s fists. Someone had clamped a collar around his neck and chained him to the wall, or at least, they had initially. The chain had been ripped out of the wall, the rusted medal dangling uselessly behind the male. Even though he was on his knees now, bare chest heaving to catch his breath, knuckles dripping blood into the floor, it was clear he had been doing his damndest to break through the iron door by any means necessary.

The first two guards raise their spears again, as Amarantha says, “Well isn’t this quite the temper tantrum.”

Your chest aches when you see him, the bruising over his face and chest, the blood splattered across the floor.

It looks like it’s an effort for him to raise his chin and look at her. The bruises around his eyes are dark as shadows. “Thought it would get your attention,” he rasps, voice practically gone.

The urge to press your lips to his throat is suddenly overwhelming, your whole body itches to hold him, soothe the aches you mark across his toned body. A thought you try to shove away, a realization you don’t want to think about in a place like this. It would be a tremendous weakness for you to want anything other than friendship.

Amarantha reaches around one of the guards to grab you by the hair, your chains rattling as she drags you over to her.

Rhys is on his feet, snarling, teeth bared at the sight. It takes four of the guards to restrain him.

He’d done that last night too, when they’d shoved you, though you’re not sure why. Doesn’t he hate you? He called you a monster, yet a monster he risked his life for.

“You seem to care a lot about this little thing, Rhysand.”

His eyes darken, narrowing in on the hand gripping your hair like he was debating the best way to rip it off her body. It’s the same murderous rage he’d had when he’d found the Attor had taken you from your room without him.

“So let’s give a little test if the feeling is mutual, hm?”

Your stomach does flips as she waves to the guards and they kick Rhys back down onto his knees on the filthy cell of the floor.

To you, Amarantha says, “You drink the vial,” that black glass is back in her hand again, dangling in front of your face. “And I won’t kill him.”

“You won’t kill me,” Rhys snarls. “Who’d keep your bed warm? Your mate that hates you? Your drugged up slaves?”

It might be the only leverage he has, but it’s like someone dumped ice water on your head. All thought leaves you, save for one singular thing that repeats like a mantra over and over: Save him. Save him. Save him.

You cannot undo what she has already done to him, but you can find a way to stop it, find a way to ensure she never hurts anyone ever again. You’ll kill her, you’ll tear her apart one piece at a time—even if you have to use your powerless hands to do it. What are you unruly powers anyway? They only seem to save you when it suits them. You will find a way without them.

Because, with a sinking feeling in your gut, you know you won’t find a way without Rhys. If he dies here, in this godsdamned cell, on his knees in the muck you will not recover. You’re not entirely sure why, but you know it to be true.

“I’ll take it,” you say.

Rhys flinches, “Don’t you fucking dare!” He snarls.

But you look away from him, to those soulless eyes instead. “I’ll take the vial and you’ll leave him alone.”

She waves the glass back and forth, lips pursed, thinking. “You take the vial and you both get to live as my pretty little pets. I think I’ll make a show out of you in my fighting pits again. You’re amusing to my court.”

You’ll both be alive. And maybe you won’t recognize yourself at the end of it, maybe you’ll hate everything that happens from here on out, but Rhys will be alive.

He’d said you’d need to be an opportunist, to find any way you could to get out, but getting out would mean nothing if you lost your ability to care about anybody in here. If you let him die, the heart your uncle had tried so hard to protect from Hybern would die, and you can’t live with that.

“I’ll do it.”

She drops the vial into your hands.

Rhys starts thrashing again, trying to stand, cursing at everyone.

It takes a second with the shackles in the way, but you manage to get the cork off the top. The scent that hits you is awful, like sulfur and smoke. You don’t give yourself time to think about it as you bring it to your lips and tip it back.

It burns worse than any alcohol you’ve ever tried, tastes like you licked a tar pit, the contents sticky in the back of your throat. It fills you, slithering through your insides like some kind of beast beneath your skin.

Amarantha breathes in deep, savoring whatever transfer she gets from this. Savoring your terrible powers as they get transferred to her.

Rhys has gone still as death on the floor.

“Guess these won’t do you any good,” she sneers. Flickering her wrists, the chains drop from your wrists.

The sensation you feel now that magic can touch you again makes you clutch at your chest, makes your body ache. It feels as if there had been a fire in your belly and the flames had been dragged out your mouth, your nose, your ears.

The guards release Rhys on her order, and then she puts her hand on your back and shoves you directly into his chest. And despite all reason, he wraps his arms around you, keeping you from sprawling face first into the floor.

“I think a few nights down here will teach you a good lesson.”

You bury your face in his neck, the scent of jasmine and citrus and sweat overwhelming. His heart beat is rapid against your cheek, but beating, he’s alive and so are you.

The door slams shut behind you, the old iron groaning and shrieking as it goes. It’s a surprise that they trust it to still hold, but, you suppose they don’t think you’ll try anything now either.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper into his skin once they’re gone. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

He grips you a little tighter, his body shaking. He has so little access to his powers and yet he’d still gone to you where he could, had still tried to bring down the mountain, he has to be exhausted, yet that grip on you is firm.

“Idiot,” he hisses, but there’s not much venom behind it. “What were you thinking?”

You shouldn’t, gods know you shouldn’t, but you let yourself lean into him, let him hold you. He’s safe and alive and it doesn’t matter what you have to do to ensure it, because this, him… It’s right. Just as it had been on Calanmai, as it was in your headspace when it was just the two of you, it’s right.

“You’re an ass,” you say into his skin, “but I’m not going to let you die for me.”

“Y/N,” he begins to reprimand, even as his hand strokes down your back, fingers catching in the tattered remains of the dress he had sent you yesterday. Gods the Pit and the chimeras had felt like a lifetime ago already.

“Yell all you want,” you whisper. “Push me away all you want. It’s not going to stop me from caring about you.”

He lowers his chin onto your shoulder, body sagging in surrender. It’s hard to tell if he’s holding you up or you’re holding him up. Doesn’t really matter in the end, you’re both too exhausted for it to matter.

“The closer you are,” he whispers and his voice is so damaged from either the collar or from screaming that it cracks. “The more danger you are in.”

“I killed three chimeras yesterday, I think I’ll live.”

“Yesterday you had full access to your powers.”

You reach for the chasm, expecting it to feel cold and empty, to confirm that it was gone and you had truly signed all of it away to that horrible bitch, and though a part of you hoped, like Rhys you’d maintain a fraction of it still sleeping there, you were not prepared to feel it so fully.

You pull away from Rhys at last, hands poking at your chest like you could somehow feel that well beneath your skin.

The darkness laughs from within you, from wherever the bottom of that ceaseless chasm may be, as if it’s wholly untouched. It doesn’t feel any smaller, it is still something wild and untamed, but it has not shrunk in the slightest.

“Y/N are you ok?”

You’d felt the burn, felt something tear out of you, how was this possible?

You dip into it, let your consciousness free fall, willing it to show you everything, whatever limit and chain Amarantha has slapped on you. But there isn’t one, the bottom still will not rise to meet you, it remains an empty, ceaseless void out of reach.

Rhys takes your face in his blood stained hands. “Y/N?!”

You finally drag your gaze up to his, the violet a striking contrast to the damage over his handsome face. “I want to make a bargain with you.”

He raises a brow, confused. You know you’re not making any sense right now, but the walls were sure to have ears this deep in the dungeons, and you have to be smarter from here on out. If Amarantha learns that you merely gave her back the fire you stole from her and not your own gifts, there will be hell to pay. And until you’re ready to pay it, you have to be careful, you need allies and confidants.

You reach up and tap a finger against your temple and he opens the door in your mind with a groan. You feel his headache in your own head.

“I want you to help me kill Amarantha.”

———————————————————————-

Tag List: @mariahoedt , @lovelydove , @twsssmlmaa , @sleepylunarwolf , @judig92 , @willowpains , @daughterofthemoons-stuff , @annnaaaaaa88 , @myheartfollower , @uniquecolorwizard , @eternallyelvish , @waytoomanyteenagefeels , @lovemesomevesey , @localfangirl09 , @isa1b2h3 , @starswholistenanddreamsanswered , @slytherintaco

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hello!! Could you do a Rhysand x reader where reader has a nightmare and Rhys comforts her and just talks with her to get her to relax?

I absolutely love your writing🩷🩷

Nightmare

He felt it. It's like someone sucked all the air out of the room he was sleeping in. Somehow stole all the stars from the sky and plunged him into a cold river. Rhys shot up. He was more than aware that it wasn't his nightmare that woke him. He knew the pattern of his dreams all too well. He would not mistake it. This felt different. As if someone's pain was calling out to him.

You. When that thought ran through his mind. Rhys didn't even realize how quickly he winnowed into your room. You two weren't dating. It was complicated, let's put it that way. You lived under his protection, in the library for years. You two were close and he had grown to love your presence. But as of lately, whatever was growing in the high lord's chest could no longer be classified as simply friendship.

Rhys looked around your room quietly. His own heart beating against his ribcage. His eyes fell onto a blanket that was on the floor. You must have kicked it off. Then there's your body soaked in sweat. As you turn and twist in your sleep. The cries stab at Rhys. Claw and dig scars in his chest. He had sworn to protect you. So what was this? Why were you like this?

He rushes towards you. Climbing onto your bed. Long forgotten is the fact that he's only in loose grey sweatpants. Or that you barely have a big shirt Rhys's shirt on. "Darling", he calls out into the night. But all he is meat with are you whimpers, please, and sobs. His palm gently cups your cheek, "My love, I've got you", Rhys says louder this time. Trying to bring your body back to consciousness without shaking you too much. "Please, I don't want to...", you cry out and Rhys has to clench his jaw. "You're with me. You're in Velaris", Rhys brushes his fingers through your damp hair, "All my stars are protecting you".

You wake up with a final scream, reaching for something until your eyes snap open. Rhys feels bile rising in his throat at the sight of you but then you turn to move out of bed, clearly not yet aware that Rhys is in your room. "Rhys....", you call out his name, no doubt in search for him. The high lord gently summons his magic around your room. Flickering stardust lights up the dark corners, stars twinkle up above. You still, and then you feel him right behind you. His warmth seeps into your back. You let out a cry as your fear surfaces but Rhys is quick to wrap his arms around you.

You both collapse onto your messy sheets. He's holding you from behind as you cling to his arms. "Rhys...", you choke out, "I've got you, darling. You're not alone", his smooth voice fills your ears. "It was...", you cry out, turning in his embrace to face him. "I know... I saw bits of it, but this will never happen. I will never let it happen", Rhys cups your face, making you look right into his beautifully purple eyes.

"But they...", you hiccup, yet he shakes his head, "Never get close enough because I'll raise hell itself if anyone ever as much as makes a hair fall off your head". You look at him with both surprise and awe. "Rhys...", you call out once more, "You don't have to say anything tonight. Just let me hold you", he breathes out. Searching for your gaze. You only nod. That's all you trust yourself to do before you reach to wrap your arms around his neck. Welcoming the warmth and comfort of his chest. Rhys wraps his arms around you tightly. Your heartbeat slowly drops. Your tired eyes look up at Rhys. He gives you s slight smile, "Try to get some sleep, dead", you shake your head, "I don't think... I'm", you stutter but Rhys knows what you mean. He's been there himself so many times. "Come lay with me", he quickly motions for the house to change the sheets before he reaches for a new blanket to drape over your body. "I'll guard your dreams for you", he says softly, you move to get comfortable against his toned chest, "You don't have to", you mumble. "I want to", he says firmly, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.

[dimaviks]

°•°•° dark!rhysand x reader

•°•°• rhysand always gets what he wants. sometimes, it takes longer than others. after finding something of yours, he gets the perfect opportunity to make you his

You never lost your journal. The leather-bound brown notebook was tucked under your pillow, under your arm, or under a loose floorboard in the servant's quarters of Hewn City. That morning, you put it safely under the floors at the base of your small bed. It had every horrible thing you'd done, every ill-thought, and worst of all, how much you hated Prince Rhysand. As his personal servant, you knew more than you should about him. You criticized him, his friends, his sexual escapades with males, females, lesser fae, and High Fae alike.

Hewn City was not kind. Even less so for the servants. Born into it, there was never any chance for you to do anything else with your life. From the time you could walk, it was decided that you would take over for your mother once she decided to step down. She'd had you in her later years, far past the point expected for females to carry. Her own father had put her in a life of debt, and she was expected to work it off. She wouldn't have children until it was dead and gone. She wouldn't put that kind of strain on you.

But, shit happens.

Now, here you were, standing over the open floorboard, the space empty. Your fingers clenched into a fist, nails digging into your skin. You thought you should just leave while you can. High Lord Rhen would take it as an act of treason. For writing those things about his son, he'd surely take a finger. Maybe even your tongue. Whoever had it wouldn't hesitate to turn it in.

Oddly, you felt numb. For now, there was shock, the full scope hadn't hit you. You thought you were clever. You thought no one would find it.

That calm feeling didn't last long. Not when he started reading in a low, mocking voice. Ice practically filled your heart. He found it. Maybe this was the worst outcome of all. "He thinks we all don't laugh at him, that even though we may be beneath him, we will never have to live with his shame and disgrace–"

You cut him off with a whimper, whirling around finally to stop him. He leaned against your wall, sleeves rolled up his arms. His hair had been messy, alcohol wafting off him. His purple eyes tracked you, a predator looking at its prey moments before it strikes. When he did, you knew it would land. Gods, you didn't think you would survive it.

He snapped the journal closed, holding it above his head. Against all rhyme or reason, you lunged for it, body pressed against his as you clawed for it. With ease, he has the two of you swapped, hand on your throat with your back against the wall. You blinked, gasping, as you wondered if he had winnowed or if he was simply that quick.

His wings appeared, spreading wide. The tips just barely missed the walls of your room. It efficiently cut you off from the rest of the room. Light didn't peek above his shadows. It was like Rhysand has suctioned all the light and warmth from around the two of you.

He was furious.

You held your chin higher. So be it. Those words you wrote were true. Maybe if Rhysand were a better male, you would've been able to tell him what you thought. If he were a better male, then maybe he never would've been snooping in his private servant's room.

Rhysand could be good when he wanted.

He could be even crueler when he felt like it.

"Be done with it," You said finally.

His lips pulled upward, his smirk sending chills down your spine. "I'm not going to kill you, darling. Rather, I'm going to make you regret every fucking letter you wrote. Be in my room tonight at midnight," His wings flared once more before they vanished entirely.

He laughed, grin pulled wider like he'd gotten the best idea. "Don't be late. Hell, maybe you should. What's one more thing I get to punish you for?"

[ladylokilaufeyson5]

Rhys: You look gorgeous, Y/n

Y/n: You're not even looking at me

Rhys: I know, but Azriel's heart just started beating faster

Azriel:

Y/n:

Azriel: Fuck you

[prythianpages]

A Light That Never Goes Out | Azriel

Azriel x Rhysand's sister (reader) | The aftermath of Azriel kissing you in front of everyone in the Court of Nightmares.

warnings: angry Rhys, angry High Lord, brief mention of Tamsand, mating bond snapping

word count: roughly 3K, around 3.5K if you read the bonus scene

a/n: This is a part two to this but can be read as a stand alone. I had fun writing this but I worry this sounded better in my head. I was tempted to turn this into a crack fic bc of this trending tiktok sound.

Azriel kisses you, consequences be damned. His hand slides from yours to the nape of your neck, drawing you closer. You kiss him back with the same intensity, years of longing and love pouring into this single moment. Your mind and thoughts tangling with his, the bond between you surging with emotion. Desire and hope. He’s still in disbelief that tonight was the first night he told you he loved you.

But in truth, Azriel had been telling you all along—in every glance, every touch, every kiss that held more than words ever could.

Azriel’s shadows recoil as the two of you pull apart, breathless. The Court of Nightmares had faded away, the two of you lost in each other. It’s just you and him, as it is meant to be…Until the distinctive footsteps of your father approaching echoes throughout the ballroom. Your eyes are wide, too many emotions swirling within their depths. 

But Azriel is relieved that regret is not one of them.

“Azriel.”

The High Lord’s voice is calm and collected but the fury flickering in his violet eyes is unmistakable. He stands no more than two feet away, the authority radiating from him as cold as it is absolute. Beside him, Rhysand watches, his expression unreadable. 

Your father lifts a hand, wisps of darkness and starlight spilling from his fingertips. The orchestra resumes under the silent command and driven by some invisible force, the guests resume dancing and drinking. As if nothing had happened. 

“Come with me,” your father says, his tone leaving no room for argument. His command is directed solely at Azriel. “I’d like to have a word.”

 You try to hold on to Azriel, to keep him close, but he slips his fingers from yours, bowing his head in quiet submission to your father. Without another word, he follows after him. And though his command had been directed solely at Azriel, the weight of the situation falls on the both of you. 

So you step forward, determined to follow after them. But just as you step outside the ballroom, Rhysand grasps your arm, forcing you to a stop.

“You stupid, foolish…,” his voice trails off in frustration. “What have you done?”

You spin on him, eyes flashing with anger as you yank your arm out of his hold. “What have I done? What about what have you done? Planning marriage alliances behind my back? Like I’m some pawn on your chessboard?”

Rhysand’s gaze softens for a brief moment. “Y/n, I–”

“No.” You interrupt sharply, starlight beginning to swirl from the fingertip you point at him. You don’t want to hear his excuse, whatever justification he thinks will make this right. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Cassian and Mor making their way toward you, slipping through the dancing couples and out of the ballroom. 

The starlight seeping from your fingertip glows brighter, ready and poised to attack. However, it’s your words you speak into his mind that make the blow instead.

“You know, if you love that runt from Spring so much, why don’t you marry him yourself?”

Rhysand’s eyes widen, his brows furrowing as the meaning of your words hit him. The revelation that you know his secret. Where he’d sneak off to some nights. Why the scent of crisp rain and earth lingered on him when he’d return. You and Azriel had pieced it together after Cassian had mentioned that his book on Illyrian training and methods suddenly went missing. Given your secret, you and Azriel had kept that information to yourselves, waiting for the moment Rhysand would feel comfortable to tell you himself. 

It takes him a moment to regain his composure, for his gaze to harden again. His lips curl into a snarl–a warning.  “Y/n.”

He leans in forward but you take a step back and winnow away, only one thing on your mind. Finding Azriel.

**

The walk to the High Lord’s private office in the Court of Nightmares is silent but the sense of foreboding is nearly deafening. Azriel is tense, his shadows quiet and burrowing into his leathers. Too many possibilities and consequences storm through his mind, each one more damning than the last.

Does he regret kissing you in front of everyone? No.

That kiss was the first honest, uninhibited thing he’d allowed himself to do in years. It was freeing, exhilarating to be able to show everyone, especially the sons of Spring and Autumn that you were his and he was yours. He could face death for this—for touching the High Lord’s daughter. For kissing you so openly, so brazenly, in front of the entire court.

But why? Why should it be so wrong for him to love you? Because of his birth? The scars of his past that marked him as unworthy? He’s served loyally. Bled for this court.Tortured for this court. 

He’s watched from the shadows as lords and sons, full of false charm, have circled you like vultures, eyeing you as nothing more than a prize to be claimed.  And yet, when he—who knows you, who cherishes you—shows his love, it is considered a crime.

It isn’t fair. But Azriel has never been afforded fairness. 

The heavy doors to the High Lord's office swing open with a wave of his hand, and Azriel steps inside. The air is thick with tension, and every muscle in his body tightens. The High Lord gestures for him to sit, but Azriel bows his head, respectfully declining. Standing feels safer. Less vulnerable. He wonders if his refusal will anger the High Lord further, but the single shadow curling at his ear reports no rising fury.

He can feel the weight of the High Lord’s gaze—it’s heavy, scrutinizing, like the cold press of a blade against his skin. He keeps his eyes forward, even though his heart pounds in his chest. If there’s punishment to be had, Azriel will accept it.

The High Lord moves to his desk, positioned beneath an oculus, where moonlight spills through and dances across his features. He gazes up at the starlit sky as if searching for answers—or perhaps, waiting.

“Normally, this is the part where people like you should be begging for forgiveness, for a way to rectify your mistake.”

Azriel’s jaw tightens. “I haven’t made a mistake.”

“No?” The High Lord’s gaze snaps back to him, piercing as if he could peel away Azriel’s very skin to lay bare his soul. Azriel wonders, for a brief moment, if your daemati powers had been inherited from your father. Could the High Lord see into his mind, his thoughts? Have kept this power to himself all these years as a secret weapon? 

“You sound so sure of yourself,” the High Lord continues, his tone sharpening. “Tell me, how long has this... affair been going on?”

“For decades.” Azriel admits, knowing that there was no use in lying. The truth was already written in the way he kissed you, in the way he looked at you as you broke away from the kiss.

“For decades?” The High Lord repeats, his expression darkening, violet eyes narrowing. “You took my daughter’s first dance tonight of all nights.”

Azriel’s silence says everything. Both of them aware that Azriel had taken more than dances, more than a kiss.

“You’ve taken her innocence. You’ve ruined her…” The High Lord continues to seethe in that cool, unnerving tone.

Azriel’s fingers twitch at his sides, fighting the urge to reach for his dagger. Not to defend himself, but because it’s his only comfort in moments like these.

But this is not a battle to be fought with daggers or swords. This is a battle of love, of politics, of status. One he’s had no training for yet one he’s willing to fight. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d fight against all odds.

“Whether she marries Spring or Autumn, she will become a lady of the highest esteem and forge a strong alliance with my court. Laden with all the riches and wonders only a High Lord can offer. What can you offer? You don’t even have a proper last name to give her, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel swallows thickly, the weight and shame of his low-born status crashing into him like the violent current of Illyria’s river. It feels like he’s sinking under it, drowning in it. He knows he can’t offer you what any son of Spring or Autumn could. He had reminded you of that—again and again. 

It’s as if you can feel his doubts creeping back in, the poison of guilt and worthlessness seeping in. Your presence—soft, warm, and steady—enters his mind. You bring forth the memory you had shared with him moments ago on the dance floor again.

“I can’t give you much,” his voice had dropped to a whisper, barely a rasp as he leaned his forehead against yours. His nose brushed against yours, his lips hovering just over your own. “But I can give you everything I have.”

“That’s all I’ll ever need,” you had replied, the words echoing now in his mind, like an antidote to the venom of doubt. That’s all I’ll ever need, that’s all I’ll ever need, that’s all—

“I asked you a question, Azriel.” The High Lord’s sharp voice cut through the memory, yanking him back to the cold, oppressive reality of the Court of Nightmares. “What can you offer in exchange for my daughter?”

Azriel’s knees buckle beneath him before he even realizes it. He drops to the floor, bowing his head low. His shadows stir, swirling around him in a frenzy, urging him to stand. To stop him.

“My life.”

“Your life,” The High Lord muses. He lets out a dark, humorless chuckle. “You love my daughter enough to give your life for her?”

“Yes,” Azriel says, his voice firm and steady, even as his shadows coil tighter around his arms, trying to pull him back from this path. But he stays rooted to the floor. His life, his soul—it all belongs to you anyway. What was it worth, if not to protect you? To be yours?

The High Lord’s eyes narrow as he studies the swirling shadows, dark and restless, wrapping themselves around Azriel’s form. Shadowsingers are rare. Their power is precious. They can see and hear things others can’t. The only known living one kneels before him now. 

Despite his low born status, the Shadowsinger had also proved himself a formidable, Illyrian warrior. A Carynthian. It’s why he appointed Azriel as the Night Court’s spymaster.  

And now this powerful and strong male is offering his life.

To have a Shadowsinger as his spymaster is rare, a gift in itself. To have Azriel’s loyalty, his strength, his skills bound by magic for life. A weapon of mass destruction, at his beck and call. No room for betrayal, no worry over him leaving his court for another.

 All in exchange for your hand in marriage? 

Now, that sounds like a deal.

He lets out a thoughtful hum, voicing his consideration. He could give Azriel a title, raise him from his bastard status. At his will, darkness begins to rise from the floor. The power of the bargain hovers in the air between them, ready to etch itself into both their skins. 

 Azriel finally lifts his head, meeting the High Lord’s eyes with no fear. Only the light of determination. He is willing to give his life to your father if that’s what it takes to be by your side. 

The cloud of darkness begins to separate, its dark tendrils moving toward him, the binding magic poised to seal his fate, to chain him to this bargain for the rest of his life.

But before it can touch his skin, before the deal can be made, a bright light erupts in the room. A sharp hiss escapes the darkness as it recoils, retreating back into the shadows where it had come from. Azriel’s own shadows seem to shudder in relief.

Both Azriel and the High Lord’s heads snap toward the source of the light. You stand at the doors, your eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears, your hands glowing with pure, raging starlight.

“No!” you cry, the word trembling on your lips as you step forward, the glow around you growing even brighter. 

Your eyes lock with Azriel’s and something tightens in his chest, crawling up his rib cage. It’s sharp and breathtaking. His hand grabs at his chest and yours does the same. 

”He will not be your slave,” you say, turning to your father with the same determination flashing in your eyes. “There has to be another way.”

The High Lord’s features morph into a scowl. “Another way? My star, he is a bastard—”

“I love him!” 

That tightening in his chest finally snaps and Azriel’s breath catches. He feels that light in your eyes, perfectly reflecting the one in his. It sears into his soul, as fierce and unrelenting as the starlight glowing from your hands.

Your father doesn’t notice the shift in the air, the change in Azriel’s posture, in his chest. Or in yours.

“You think that means anything?” 

Azriel’s shadows whisper a warning into his ears, of an oncoming raging darkness. Different but similar to the High Lord’s. He barely hears his shadows, too focused on you, on the bond thrumming between you. His mind is consumed with you. 

Mate. Mate. Mate.

“You and mother—” you begin.

“Do you think your mother and I love each other?” The High Lord interrupts sharply, his voice cold and cutting. He breaks out into a laugh.

Azriel snaps out of his trance. Anger flares within him at the shock, the devastation that takes over your features. He watches as you shrink back slightly, his instincts roaring to protect you from any harm, whether verbal or otherwise. 

Because he’s your mate. Because he loves you.

 “You think I would marry your mother, a low born seamstress by choice? What your mother and I have is different. It’s complicated. A special bond.  One that gave me Rhysand and you and–”

A sound like thunder crashes through the room, reverberating off the stone walls as darkness swells in every corner. One moment, Azriel is on his knees. The next, he’s slamming into the cold marble floor, the force of Rhysand’s power pinning him down. Tendrils of Rhysand’s darkness coil around Azriel’s form, fighting with the shadows that instinctively rise to defend him.

“How long?” Rhysand's violet eyes blaze as they burn into Azriel.

“And I am beginning to think you both are nuisances to my existence rather than gifts...” The High Lord mutters followed by an exhausted sigh.

“How long have you been fucking my sister?” His words are a snarl as he slams Azriel harder into the floor, advancing toward him with clenched fists.

“Rhysand!” You let out a cry, rushing to the two males to separate them.

Your brother whips around, his anger igniting into something fiercer at the sight of you. “Stay out of this!” he snaps, his hand raising. He’s too angry, too heated. So much that he doesn't even notice the force of darkness he aims your way.

Rhysand’s magic hits you hard, knocking the breath from your lungs. A choked gasp escapes as you stumble backward, struggling to keep your footing. A burst of bright sapphire explodes from each of Azriel’s siphons, a deep and low growl rumbling from his chest. He breaks free from Rhysand’s magic, standing to his feet. His wings flare behind him, shadows swirling like a storm.

The look in his hazel eyes is nothing short of feral, dark and ancient, a fierce and possessive glint that makes Rhysand falter and surprise flash across the High Lord’s features.

You fall to the ground with a thud, palms scraping against the stone and pain flaring in your hands. Rhysand turns toward you, the anger that had been simmering in his violet gaze immediately dissolving into guilt and regret. “Y/n, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t touch her.” Azriel growls, standing in between you and your brother, his shadows forming in an additional protective barrier. Some shadows flutter toward you, helping you stand and bringing you to Azriel’s side. Your hand instinctively seeks Azriel’s, fingers curling into his and you squeeze it, letting him know you’re alright. 

“By the Cauldron…” the High Lord’s voice comes out in a low murmur, his gaze darting between you and Azriel. His eyes narrow as he finally notices the subtle shift in the air, in your scents. The scent of a bond. 

“You two are mates,” he says, tone laced with resignation. Because even he, a High Lord, is not above going against The Cauldron.

It feels like a punch to the gut for Rhysand. His best friend and his sister. Fate’s inevitable design had been right under his nose all along. “What?” Rhysand breathes in shock, chest still heaving from the exertion of his magic.

Azriel’s hand tightens around yours. His gaze softens as he turns to you, the fierce protectiveness from earlier easing into something gentler. And when your eyes meet again, it’s there—the unmistakable light of the mating bond. It shines bright and steady between you. Just like your love for each other does.

 A light that never goes out.

bonus scene

Once the shock of the bond had worn off, the High Lord excused himself, muttering about damage control. “Spring will be the hardest to deal with,” he had said.

Rhysand’s body tensed as his eyes found yours. But you’d only given him a small, reassuring smile. Though it is something you would like to talk about, his secret would remain safe with you.

Your father would soon announce the bond to the Court of Nightmares, already making plans for a grand mating ceremony. You’d much rather have something private, intimate. But a public celebration seemed like a small price to pay for the lifetime you’d get to spend beside the male you loved.

Rhysand turned his gaze back to Azriel, his expression still unreadable. “You never answered my question,” he said, voice calm but edged with something darker. “How long?”

Azriel hesitated before answering, unlike the way he had with the High Lord. This was his best friend standing in front of him. The one he grew up and trained along with, survived the brutality of the Blood Rite with. Rhysand was like a brother to him and he went behind his back for years.

 “A decade.”

“A decade?” Rhysand blinks in surprise. 

A whole decade of secrecy. Of Azriel sneaking around with his little sister. It all made sense now. Why Azriel became more reserved, more private. Why Azriel no longer indulged himself with the pleasures of the females at Rita’s or the Illyrian camps like he and Cassian did. Why you spent more time at the Moonstone palace, instead of the House of Wind, where you had grown up and been raised by a handful of Priestesses. It hadn’t been to learn about the politics of the courts but to be closer to Azriel.

And then, with no warning, Rhysand swings.

The hit lands squarely on Azriel’s jaw, so swift and unexpected that neither you nor Azriel’s shadows had seen it coming. Azriel takes the blow without protest, silently commanding his shadows to stand their ground and not fight back. 

“Rhys!” you snapped, your brows furrowing into a scowl. 

Rhysand huffs, shaking out his hand from the impact. “That’s for going behind my back,” he says. He pauses for a second and then, he lets out a low chuckle. Full of disbelief and relief.

“I’m still angry at both of you,” Rhysand admits, and Azriel lowers his head, bracing for more. “Not because it’s you—though I’ll admit, seeing you together is... strange. But because you kept it from me for so long, putting both of your lives at risk.”

Then Rhysand’s voice softens, his gaze following. “But I’m glad it’s you.”

Azriel lifts his head back up in surprise as Rhysand holds out his hand.

 “You’re a good male, Azriel. Better than most. And I know you’ll protect her. Love her in a way no one else can.”

Azriel stares at Rhysand’s outstretched hand before finally clasping it, the tension between them easing. Your chest warms at your brother’s sincerity.

The sound of footsteps, heavy and hurried, echo through the stone walls. They grow louder with each passing second and moments later, Cassian and Mor appear at the entrance of your father’s study. Cassian braces himself against the doorframe and Mor leans on him, their chests rising and falling rapidly.

It’s clear they’re winded from the endless stairs they must’ve taken to reach the floor of your father’s private study. It was located between the Court of Nightmares and Moonstone Palace, warded so that only those of his bloodline could winnow directly inside.

Their eyes dart between the three of you. 

“What did we miss?”

a/n: hope you enjoyed! here’s a little HC (idk what to call it?) of Rhys’s sis & Az if you’re curious 💙

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits13, @lorosette

fic tag: @noisyinfluencerstrawberry, @tothestarsandwhateverend, @tulipbite, @kylaisra, @stressed-reader

[bluetimeombre]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ And I wouldn't marry me, either.

You were Azriel's mate, but it took losing you three times for him to realise.

[this is long. i'm talking 5k words long so i've split it into two parts. anyway, azriel is the best bat boy and no i won't hear anyone out. i'm so excited to write for him and hope you enjoy. it's very angsty but that's what i love. i hope i can write more for him and maybe other characters if you like. it's been a while since i've actually read the series so if any information is wrong, do let me know. also it was my first time using the term y/n and yes, i cringed NOT PROOF READ... enjoy]

warnings: references to sexual assault and references to suicide. nothing explicit but please don't read if this is sensitive to you.

Part 2 soon…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The first, was the worst...

You were Rhys's half sister, the bastard daughter of his father. But when your mother had died giving birth to you, Rhysand's mother took you in and raised you with your brother and sister. You were so little and adorable that your sister loved you at once. Rhys did to, at some point of your life, you were sure he actually cared about you.

But when his mother and sister had died, his eyes shifted, he started to look at you with contempt. After all, you were only his half-sister. The worst half. He only kept you around because it's what his mother would have wanted.

And because there was no way Cassian and Azriel would ever let anything happen to you.

Besides, Rhysand knew when to use you.

Although Azriel was his spymaster, you were pretty good at staying swift-footed too. And you were frankly, very terrifying when you wanted to be.

You tread with power through the war camps, all of them looking at you as you went. All of their gazes wrecked with a predatory gaze. They either wanted to have their way with you, or kill you. Or both.

Rhys had said you could handle it, it was only supposed to be a check in. Cassian hadn't liked it, neither had Mor but it was Azriel who had almost- and for the first time- disobeyed his high lord to accompany you. But no, your brother wanted you to do this alone, so alone you would.

Just to show him you could.

'I can come with you,' Azriel had said, standing in your room as you tied your boots up. 'I won't even have to be seen.' At that, his shadows wrapped up your calf.

You smiled at them, as if they were his own pet. 'I'll manage just fine. Besides, i'm sure that's what Rhys wants, me needing a man.'

It had done nothing to calm your friend. The worry was still stuck between his brows, marring his handsome features. You'd held his cheeks, your wings hiding the two of you. His large ones (enough to swallow the both of you) over-lapped yours.

It was the last time you'd feel your wings.

The war camp wasn't as easy as you'd hoped. It was terror and horror in a place. You'd been to the court of nightmares, you'd gone to the slaughter of the spring court after they killed your family. But this, this was hell of another kind.

You had no idea how many days you'd been locked up, wrists bound in chains and hanging from the cell roof above you. Blood rolled down your arms from the force you'd tried to use to get them out. Your eye was swollen shut and your body trembled in pain.

All because they wanted to know your brothers secrets, and you wouldn't budge.

Your check was only supposed to be a day, but you were sure it had been longer. Days of endless pain and torture. Your uniform hung in rags of stripped material, your hair matted with blood and hiding your face.

You'd used the last of your energy to keep your walls up. You weren't anyone's mate, you didn't have anyone on the other end trying to feel what you felt. But should Rhys come looking (though you doubted it) you didn't want him to feel it. You didn't want anyone in your mind.

The gates opened with a sickening clash.

One of the Illyrian's knelt in front of you, his wings hiding those coming in behind you. 'Listen sweetheart. I don't want to make this any harder than it's about to get. All you have to do is tell us your brother's hide outs.'

You grit your teeth, staring down at the ground.

'So loyal, to a man who doesn't care if you live or die.'

Suddenly, your wings twitched as hands grasped them. Brute hands, the sort you wouldn't want touching any part of you.

Fear spiked in you, horror twisting your gut. 'What are you doing?'

'I told you I didn't want to get things messier, darling.'

You whipped your head from side to side, trying and failing to get a look at the assailants behind you. Your wings were being held apart, no matter how hard you tried to bat them away. You knew the sort of people they were, and what they did to girls like you.

That's when the begging started. 'No, no please. Anything. I'll do anything! Beat me, kill me, rape me, not my wings, please!'

'Anything?' the bastard asked, tongue poking out from his lips. 'Then tell me where your lord's hideouts are?'

You should betray him, you thought. He would never lose his wings for you. Perhaps it was stubbornness that kept you from, or maybe you were clinging to the last bit of love you want from him.

The bastard scoffed, 'anything, she says. Your brother has his own bitch wrapped around his finger.'

That's when they started hacking at your wings.

Your screams tore through your throat, blood spitting and dripping down your chin. Tears soon joined when they hacked away at the bone, the membrane, the flesh of it all. The three of them worked through your screams and your tears and your pain, tearing and cutting at it like it was nothing more than paper.

Not your whole life.

Let them hear you. You hoped your brother heard you, you hoped all and every court heard the pain.

Eventually, even you couldn't keep screaming. The only sound was the hacking away at your wings and the drops of blood.

'Now look at these beauties. I've got a perfect spot on my wall for these.'

They left you after that. There wasn't much more damage they could do. It already felt like they'd destroyed your life. You had never really thought about your wings, they were just part of you, as much as your wit or hair was. But they'd took it and now, you felt empty. Never would you fly with Azriel again, or use your wings to smack Cassian over the head.

Rhys, your dear brother, had took that from you.

The days blended in together after that. You were pooled in your own tears and blood, vomiting up anything they forced down your throat. No, they'd made it very clear they didn't want you dead. They just took pride in making it feel like you were.

At some point, you'd stopped reacting to the gate opening. You let them do whatever they wanted with you. Your wrists were still chained, arms still hanging up, your clothes hanging on your thin body in strips of dirt.

'No...' you heard a mumble. 'What have they done to you?'

Suddenly, the chains gave way and you lurched forward, with no strength to catch you. Luckily, you didn't have to, as strong and warm arms pulled you into his chest.

'Hey, wake up, look at me, dammit.'

Azriel.

You'd know the voice in the darkest days, in the pit of your worst nightmare you'd know.

You try to speak but your head's heavy, your lips are stone and your arms can't lift to hold onto him. You're exhausted, you're dying. The only thing you could do use all your strength to try to open your eyes.

'Please, please, look at me. You have to look at me,'

You were trying, you wanted to tell hm, snap at him, but you couldn't.

You felt Azriel shake, or maybe you were. Then, there was wet drops landing on your cheeks- you flinched.

'I'm sorry, i'm sorry. Rhys! Rhys! hurry up, please!' he was screaming. You'd never heard him scream before.

You heard the rush of feet at the cell doors, you knew it was your brother. You knew it from the presence of him, from the shuffling of feet and chocked sob. Your brother didn't cry, least of all for you.

'Her wings, oh mother, her wings,' said Azriel, his voice barley above that of a whisper.

Your wings. You didn't need reminding. They were gone, long and far gone. You were without a part of you, the very part of your soul that loved to be free. Never would you watch the stars up close or fly over everyone. Never race Cassian or make jokes with Az.

No, this would destroy you.

'y/n,' your half-brother called. 'No, y/n. Can you hear me?'

Your lips parted, mumbling. 'Hurts.'

Azriel's grip on you tightened. 'I know, we're gonna get you out of here, just hold on for me.'

You wanted to tell him you would hold on, you'd always need to hold on to him. That, no matter what he asks, you'd do it. To kill, to live, to breathe, to die.

And that's when it clicked. Amongst all the pain and the doubt. In your blood soaked clothes. In the fear you wouldn't make it, there was a tug. Weak and one-sided, but there. You knew you'd be safe with Azriel, knew you would always be with him.

Mate.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The pain subsided to a dull ache, there and beating but not excruciating. You were warm and covered in a soft material. Nothing like the cell you'd been kept in. Your fingertips sunk into something soft- a bed. Your bed. It was familiar in its lavender scent to you and the silk wrapped around you gave you some semblance of warmth.

Your wings.

Even coming to consciousness was difficult. You were exhausted but light, without the weight of wings holding you down. You'd never realised how much you needed to feel that weight, to feel pulled down in order to be free.

Gone, all gone.

Your hand twitches around something cold, a shadow holding your hand, creeping up your side.

'You're awake, thank the couldron.'

It wasn't Azriel, master of the shadows. It wasn't your mate. Mate. The word replayed like a terrible song in your mind.

How dare the mother do this to Az. How dare he- nothing but loyal and kind- get stuck with a person made in darkness, who bled shadows, who's heart was so full of hate there wasn't room for love. They'd cursed Az, with you.

But luckily it wasn't him, it was Rhysand.

'It really happened,' you whispered, voice hurting from the screams.

He sighed. 'I'm sorry, i'm so sorry. We-we thought you weren't going to make it, you'd lost so much blood.'

In spite of the pain in your shoulders, you made a shift, turning from him as he ranted on about your condition.

'y/n... sister, please,' he said. He'd never called you sister before. He'd always been content to treat you just like you worked for him.

'Leave me alone.' you couldn't bare to look at him, couldn't bare to face him. The shadows at your hand grew heavier, as if more were piling on. You stretched your fingers away from them, trying to get them off you.

'Are you in any pain?' asked Rhys.

'Get out,' you mumbled.

The end of your bed dipped where Rhys settled, hand splayed on the covers, begging for your hand. 'y/n.'

'Get out!' you snapped, body tense and straining. You felt your wounds open up, blood wetting the bandage around you. But you didn't care. You'd happily bleed if you couldn't fly. A part of you, sick part of you wanted to be left there. It would be better than false sympathy.

Be better than your mate being disgusted.

'Get out!' you yelled again, voice tearing through an aching throat.

'I just want to help you! please, let me help you!' said Rhys, standing from your bed and walking around, trying to face you.

'I don't want your help!' you screamed. You reached for the closest thing you could, a jug of water and chucked it toward him. You aim was terrible, marred with pain and exhaustion. 'Get out!'

Though hesitant, Rhysand slowly started walking back to your door. He did it all looking at you, his hands out to show he wasn't gonna hurt you, but you didn't care. You went for the glasses next and chucked them but they landed against the door which he disappeared through.

Before it slid close you caught sight of Cassian , Mor and Azriel. All crowded, all waiting to see you.

You'd be happy if you never let them see you again.

'Can we see her?' you hear Mor ask.

'Give her time,' said Rhys.

The shadows at your hand grew heavier, darker, tighter.

'Go away!' you yelled at them. To anyone else, you probably looked crazy, screaming to darkness. But the shadows understood. They departed, slithering away and under the crack of your door where you could see the shadows of feet.

Tumbling from bed, you stumbled over and locked the door, leaning on it to and catching your breath. Your nightgown was starting to get sticky with blood all over again. When you closed your eyes, you pictured the cell, the rough hands holding you down, the chain keeping you up.

And the pain, it all washed over you. The hacking at your back, the sting of a slap. It hit you like a tone of bricks as you slid to the floor.

There was a knock, rattling the door.

'y/n,' Cassian. 'Please let us in.'

Us. You felt him on the other side. Your mate, his presence lingering. His shadows under the door, wanting to come in but keeping their distance.

He didn't know. It hadn't snapped for him, you could tell. It was one tug on your end, a chord in your heart. At least he couldn't feel what you did. At least you could shoulder it alone.

'Please.' his voice was almost your un-doing. He sounded so sad, so desperate. It hurt you just to think you were hurting him.

Tears streamed down your face as your curled your fingers into a tight fist. You assumed Mor had left with Rhys, leaving you there with the males.

Cass was always like a brother to you. Granted- a brother you had slept with once or twice- but he was your best friend. You'd always been close to him. But you'd always been good, a happy person.

You couldn't be that for them now, perhaps ever again.

It lasted like that for hours. Cassian and Az begging to come in, you curling into a ball with tears down your cheeks and blood down your back.

Eventually, they gave up. You couldn't hear them anymore and the shadows of their boots had disappeared.

Except Azriel's shadows that still lingered under your door. Maybe he'd ordered them to be there while they left you.

Eventually, you managed to find your footing on shaking legs. Your room was large, one of the largest. It was just as much a mess as it was when you'd left for you mission, clothes thrown over the place, books propped open on the pages you'd left them on. Everything was the same but could never be again.

It took you longer than you'd care to admit to get to your windows and throw the curtains close. Candles light at your request, the house looking after you as it had since you were a child.

You caught sight of yourself in the full length mirror. It seemed smaller, everything in the room felt too large and you too small, as if you were being swallowed by the expanse of it.

Your frame was small in the mirror, your hair disarrayed. Your eyes were red and shutting of their own accord from the tears that had drained you. The starving in the cells had made you look weak, made you feel weak.

And your back. There was no more looming black figures there, no more fluttering. There was just nothing. In spite of the ache as you lifted your arm, you felt around your back, feeling the hitch there, the lump from where they'd been torn from you.

You cry. You sob. You scream.

The scars were long and the nightdress was sticking to you by the blood you'd shed. All you could do, was hold yourself up as your body wracked with tears.

A breeze came from your windows, shadows tugging at the curtains.

You felt him before you saw him. You wanted to tell him to leave you but you couldn't talk without chocking. Without feeling like you couldn't breath.

Azriel had you in your arms before your knees could hit the ground. He fell with you, softening your body on the floor. His arms held you into his chest, his legs caging you into his body. His head rested on yours as he held you. He didn't try to talk, he didn't try to help. It was just him, you and his shadows.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Azriel remembered dozing off with you, his head on yours. His arms holding you into him, as if it was up to him to keep the sadness away and take it for you.

Afterall, you were his best friend. He should have been there for you, and he'd failed terribly by letting you get hurt and your wings stolen from you. He could hate himself every day for it, for letting you down. But it would never amount to what you felt for yourself and that killed him.

He could see it in the way you cried, in the way you were already keeping everyone out. He'd rather die than let you go through all the pain alone.

When his hands had been scarred by his brothers, you'd help heal him, tell him about everything he still was and all the power he still held in his hands. In the worst days, when he didn't let anyone touch him, he let you.

It was always you.

Azriel wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, or how deep. He was sure he was still with you, still in your bed.

His shadows crept up on him, engulfing him slowly and whispering to him. Your name, just your name on repeat. It was enough to lull him back into sleep, to keep him calm.

Gone. Missing. y'n. Roof.

He shot up and ran fastest than he ever had in his life. It was as if he'd never been asleep but had been fighting a battle with the way he raced over.

He burst through the doors, the cold hight air hitting him.

You stood facing the stars, your bloody back to him. It wasn't as much blood as when he'd found you, but it was still enough to put a lump in his throat.

Immediately his shadows fell to you, cascading down your body and wrapping around your waist. There was a breeze in the air, pushing your hair back and exposing more signs of the pain and torture you must have gone through.

'I'm not gonna jump, if that's what you're thinking,' you said. You didn't even have to turn to him. The shadows probably told you enough.

'Why are you up here?' he asked, walking to you slowly and with careful steps. As if every step closer could you push you away from him.

'I'll never feel the win properly again,' you answered.

Azriel gulped down his own pain. You’d never sounded so small. ‘Can you get away from the ledge?’

'I'm not on the ledge.'

'You're too close for my liking.'

'Leave if you don't like it.'

'Don't do this,' he said.

'Do what?' you asked, folding your arms over your chest. You were cold, out in the hight but you wanted to see the stars. Needed to see them.

'Make me leave. Make everyone leave you. I know that's what you're doing. It's what you do every time,' you could feel him dawning closer. His shadows were all around you, almost drowning you.

‘Every time,’ you scoff, stepping down and turning on him. ‘It’s not every day you lose your wings Azriel! But don’t let me stop you from leaving, flap them and go!’ You yelled, unable to stop yourself, no matter how hard you tried. You didn’t want to hurt him, you just wanted to be alone.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

'You jump and I’ll catch you,' he said. He was a step away, he could just reach out and touch, just a gentle caress. 'I swear it, whatever you do, I’ll follow. I’m not letting you get away.’

He watched your back shudder as he reached out, brushing knuckles against your shoulder blade. He heard your sharp inhale follow.

'Don’t think I won’t follow, y/n.'

Finally, you turned around in his shadows. You couldn’t meet his eyes but at least you could face his chest.

His hands were gentle on your shoulder as he rubbed it gently. 'Can I get Madja to clean you up?' He asked.

You nodded as he led you away. You truly did not deserve your mate.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Fifty-two years later...

When Amarantha had trapped the high lords of Prythian under the mountain, it hadn't be a conscious choice to follow your half-brother down. How Amarantha had allowed it, you weren't sure, but perhaps she wanted to use you just like her brother, or she thought it would bring more pain for him to see you suffer under there too.

You and Rhysand had barley spoke the last two years.

It had took you almost two months to heal fully enough to leave your room, another few months to face your family again. But even then, everyone knew something had changed in you. You didn't laugh as loud or smile as wide.

Rhysand was careful to ever let you out on a mission. Mor tried to take you out every night. Cassian spent all day every day with you and Azriel- he'd healed you better than any nurse.

Still, you had not told him he was your mate.

Still, you thought he wouldn't want it.

Still, you cared for your brother enough to not want him to go alone.

But being under the mountain, you could avoid your mate. At a painful price.

Until her. Rhys's mate. He hadn't shut up about her since he first met her, much to your dismay as you had to sit around and listen- having absolutely nothing better to do. And it only got worse when she turned up under the mountain. She was declaring her love for Tamlin- again, annoying your brother, and throwing Lucien into danger- which rather angered you. You had nothing against the ginger.

Rhysand had once sent you to find the girl to summon her as part of a bargain he'd made. He didn't want to go, he didn't want to look too forceful. You'd been lucky enough to find the two tangled up in each other against a cold wall, clothes ripped and hips moving together.

'Well, well well,' you'd intterupted.

Tamlin all but growled at you, but feyre was looking over you- evidently confused. She had no idea who you were. You, in your skimpy outfit that Amarantha kept you in (they all dipped low at your back, showing off your scars) and your eyes that were like a night sky.

'Amarantha's looking for her pet and Rhysand is looking for his. Honestly, i'd be a bit more worried if I were you. You know, considering Lucien still has an eye to lose.'

The two parted with your words as you sent Tamlin back to his master, the high lord glaring at you as you went. While Feyre tried to fix herself.

'Rhysand is over there, better not keep him waiting.' That was the first time you met her, having no idea how much trouble she'd be worth. The family that she'd become.

But Rhysand made sure you knew it all. From when the bond snapped in him and he'd stumbled. He ranted and ranted as they climbed out.

If only you were so talkative about Azriel. If only you could talk about him with your brother. But you'd tried not to painfully think about him. Climbing out of the mountain. It was all you could think of.

Maybe he'd have forgotten you? it had been fifty years. He'd probably realised how happy he could be without having to take care of you.

Rhys was allowed out of the mountain, he'd felt the breeze in his hair but you hadn't in fifty long years. You stood there a moment, bathing in the warmth as everyone left, as everyone ran off for their families and courts and the war that was inevitable. Eventually, Rhys offered you his arm. 'Shall we go home?'

He winnowed you there, on the balcony of your home. In a cloud of black smoke, the two of you appeared.

He went first, slipping through the doors slowly- like it could all be taken from them any minute.

You were hesitant, taking a moment to glance at the landscape behind you. It hadn't changed, not at all. The mountains were still there, everyone was still alive. Your home. In the last years it hadn't felt like home, but how could anywhere ever feel so close in your heart.

When you could find your feat again, you managed to slip through the doors. You were suddenly aware of how little clothing you were wearing, just enough to cover your chest and run down your legs. A chill settled down your back, your scars would be on show. What a way to great them all after fifty years.

Mor had her arms around Rhys's shoulders, crying into his shoulder.

Behind them you caught Amren, with something like tears in her eyes. You were just about to tease her before a body barrelled into yours in a blur of red syphons and your feet were lifted from the ground.

'Cassian.'

His arms tightened around you. You shoulder started to dampen with tears, his tears. The last time you'd seen him cry around you was when he'd seen a dog with only three legs. 'I'm keeping you on a leash from now on, stupid idiot.'

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, a smile gracing your lips. 'Is that a promise?'

He held you longer, tighter, not daring to let you go but at least settling you on the ground. He sighed against your head, controlling himself. 'He's missed you, you know,' he said. He was the only one you'd told, about your mate. 'Now that you're back, tell him. He deserves to know.'

Cassian slowly pulled away, holding you at arms length and smiling at you. He kissed your cheeks and then your forehead before parting to Rhysand.

Mor approached you next, slapping you in the arm.

'Ow!'

'Why would you follow him?' she snapped.

You blinked at her before she took you by the arm she'd slapped and embraced you, like a sister would. You dared not looking over her shoulder to find the one who hadn't come to you. Maybe Cass had got it wrong...

Mor pulled away, wiping at her eyes.

Azriel was as beautiful as the day you left him. His hair was the same length, he was the same height. He was just as you left him. It was hard to tell fifty years had passed on him.

And inside of you, tugging in your soul and heart you felt the familiar string of gold throbbing. But you still didn't feel that tug. You'd hoped it would have faded from you after half a year separated. Or at least have snapped for him. But no such relief.

He approached you, slowly. As if he was scared of scaring you away. But you just stood there.

His arms were delicate and soft around you as he brought you into his chest. He still smelled the same, cedar wood and shadows. Shadows that wrapped around you, shielding you from the rest of the room. They caressed you, head to two.

You held onto each other for what could have been another fifty years, but this time, it wasn't so painful.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Although nobody wanted to part after yours and Rhysand's return, you were exhausted. A trip to Rita's could wait another night or two. The only thing you wanted to do was hide in your room.

Strangely, your room looked lived in. As if somebody had moved in since you'd left. A moment of anger replaced grief. Had they brought someone else and given them your room? but then you smelt it, Az.

Lying in bed that night, exhausted, you couldn't find sleep. You closed your eyes and pictured Amarantha. You'd never been afraid of her, you weren't afraid of anything. But you re-played the horrors. Watching servants beat Feyre, watching Amarantha use your brother and on the occasion, even you. How she flaunted. How the most powerful lords were weak.

Under your door, shadows seeped in, rushing across the room to you. You smiled, watching your hand disappear in their darkness.

'Azriel?' you called.

There was shifting on the other side of the door before he slipped in, clicking it shut behind him.

You sat up in bed, shadows moving with you. 'Couldn't sleep?'

He wondered in, looking around your room. 'Sleeping's been... hard.'

You rolled over, opening the blanket and nodding your head. You couldn't think about the bond, not yet. Not while he looked so.... ruined. Beautiful- the most beautiful person in the world, but sad. As he climbed in next to you, you could see the dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders slumped and his wings too.

His eyes scanned over you. You were in a thin and silk night dress that only brushed your knees, but the way he looked at you, mother you could've been naked. 'Fifty years,' his voice sounded barley controlled. 'Fifty years. You followed your brother down for fifty years? Why would you do that?'

You gulp. 'I would've done it for any of you. Except maybe Amren, she'd probably enjoy the peace for fifty years.'

You go to brush your hair back but Azriel seizes your wrist. He was angry. That's why his voice was rough and his chest rising and falling with barley controlled emotions. Could he feel it? your nerves, your lying?

'You left. You should've stayed, y/n, you know Rhysand didn't want you under there with him,' he said. 'For fifty years I haven't been able to sleep through a night thinking about the pain you must have been going through. After I swore to keep you safe, after I promised to catch you every time!'

'You couldn't have stopped me. You didn't promise, Az.'

His grip grew tighter. 'It went without saying.'

You looked around his eyes, seeing the pain and grief there also. Slowly, you brought your other hand up. He flinched as you took his cheek but eventually settled as your thumb ran over his cheekbone. 'I won't leave again, ok? I promise.'

He gulped, letting go of your wrist and looking down. 'I slept here,' he mumbled, but just loud enough to hear you. 'I couldn't sleep in my room. This was the only place I could rest.'

Your heart stuttered. Your hand dropped from his cheek. This man was your mate. Your mate. Your only love, whether or not the cauldron deemed it.

Azriel took your hesitation. 'I-i'm sorry, you probably didn't want to hear that. I've probably ruined your one place of peace-'

'Stay,' you said, before you could think of what you were asking. 'Sleeping wasn't exactly easy under the mountain either. I just trust I won't have to put a wall of cushions between us.' as if you wanted that. As if you haven't thought about his calloused hands all over you.

Azriel smiled and stayed the night.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The third time he almost lost you, broke him...

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[thehighladywrites]

acotar men + twitter nsfw links.

“uh-huh, come play with my pussy!”

pairing: acotar men x f!reader

summary: visual links of how the acotar men fuck 😉

warnings: nsfw, porn links, squirting, handjobs, blowjobs, rough sex, teasing, spitting, slapping, public sex, messy makeout session

amara’s note: yum and if you can’t see the links, remove safe search on web reader then go back to twitter

azriel

when everyone’s out

spitting before eating you out

backshots pov

breeding aftermath

head game goes crazy!

put it in and let’s watch tv!

fingering turns you into a squirting mess

jerking off inside

hungry!

rhysand

can i suck your tits while you ride?

squirting all over his cock while he fucks you

rubbing your clit every morning

slow strokes hit so deep!

arching just the way he likes it

i’ll stroke you if you finger me, deal?

can’t keep my hands off your cock, sorry

take it off, i want it raw

cassian

i miss you, let’s facetime later

sloppy, sloppy makeout session

drooling for a taste

size difference? yes!

let’s make a movie but you gotta be quiet!

you said you were stressed? let me take care of you

creampie compilation

giddy up cowgirl!

throat grab

eris

gotta tease before entering

couch fun

be my personal fucktoy

think you can take it all?

post argument sex

i really, really wanna suck you off

69 double pleasure

deepthroat training

lucien

cumming on his cock

the size difference is crazy

he fucks roughly when he’s mad

no one loves titty fucking more than him

slow handjobs is the quickest way to get bent

lucien found your toy and uses it on you

facial

late night quickie

[nebarious]

Cassian: *sneezes*

Azriel: ......

Cassian: *sneezes*

Azriel: ......

Cassian: Are you really not going to say bless you?

Azriel: Y/N is sitting here with us. You've clearly been blessed

Y/N: *blushes*

Cassian: *looks at rhys* Did he just use my allergies to flirt with your sister?

Rhysand: This fucker need to be studied

[7seas-of-ryy]

The Bet

Author’s Note: I had a long day at work and wanted to write something happy :)) I hope you like it!

Summary: Who will be able to get Azriel to laugh first?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: none, let me know if I need to add any :)

“What’s so funny?” You mumbled as you crossed your arms.

You had asked Cassian and Rhys about the shadowsinger’s sense of humor. The pair had just given each other a look and howled with laughter.

“Az?? A sense of humor??” Cass choked out through his laughter.

“That’s a good one Y/N!” Rhys said, giving you a pat on the shoulder.

“Will you guys be serious!” You scolded the two males.

“Az doesn’t laugh at jokes.” Rhysand told you.

“Orrr maybe you two just aren’t funny?” You said with a smirk.

“What? And you think you’re so funny?” Rhys questioned.

“Definitely funnier than you two.” You told them.

“That is the most hurtful thing anyone has ever said to me.” Cassian stated, putting his hand on his chest.

“How about a bet?” Rhys smirked.

Cassian clapped his hands, always up for a challenge. A large grin grew on your face, already feeling confident even though you didn’t know the bet.

“We all get one shot to get Azriel to laugh. Whoever wins gets free drinks for a night at Rita’s.” Your High Lord told you and Cassian.

“I’m in!” Cass exclaimed.

“Oh you two are so going down.” You told them.

---

Azriel had been sitting at the table eating breakfast when Cass walked in. You and Rhys were discreetly watching from another room, looking to see if he could crack Az.

“Hey Az-” Cassian spoke before tripping over a chair and falling dramatically, hitting his head on the way down.

“You ok?” Az spoke and then took another bite without getting up from his spot.

“Are you serious?” Cass grumbled then got up and walked out. The spymaster didn’t even flinch.

“That was your master plan??” You asked him once he made it to you and Rhys.

“I thought he would laugh at my pain! He seems like he would find it funny!” Cass defended his choice.

You and Rhys began to shake with laughter.

“Don't worry, I thought it was funny.” Rhys told him with a smug look on his face.

Cass gave him a look and walked away grumbling.

---

Azriel, Cassian, Rhys, and you were all training together and it was Rhys’ turn to get Az to laugh. Cass threw a weak punch at him which missed horribly.

“Ha! What was that! That was worse than Y/N on a good day!!” Rhys stated, poking fun at both you and Cass.

A scowl grew on Azriel’s face, his brows furrowed watching his friend. You and Cass both stood there, equally offended.

“Why would you be rude to Y/N? She has done nothing to you and she’s a great fighter.” Az spoke.

Rhys’ eyebrows shot up, realizing that was the wrong route to take to get him to break. A smirk grew on your face when you realized they both blew their chances and you were the most likely to win.

“Hey! Why did you stick up for her and not me?” Cass complained.

“Because that punch was awful. He should have compared you to a child with no training, not Y/N, who could easily beat you in a fight.” He told his brother.

A giggle left your lips and Az gave you a nod and a smile.

---

“Alright lets see what you got.” Rhys told you.

Azriel was sitting in the library, reading a book when you approached him.

“Hey Az! Whatcha reading?” You asked.

“A book on some rare magic.” He told you in a gentle tone, looking up at you with soft eyes.

“That sounds interesting! I’m actually reading a book on anti-gravity, and it’s impossible to put down!” You told him with emphasis on the pun.

He watched you for a moment, a smile growing on his face. Then you heard the most beautiful sound, Azriel’s laughter. You felt pride well up inside you.

“That’s a good one, very funny.” He told you and you gave him one of your big smiles.

After a little bit more conversation, you left and went over to where Rhys and Cass had been watching.

“A pun?! Really?” Cass said, disbelief evident in his voice.

Rhys stayed quiet while his brother continued to complain.

“That’s how it's done boys. Looks like I’ll be having a fun, free night out at Rita’s!” You spoke and went back into the library to sit with Az.

“How did a pun out of all things-” Cass started but Rhys elbowed him in the ribs to shut him up.

“Look at him. It wasn’t the pun... it’s her.” He spoke.

The two of them watched as you sat next to Azriel, asking if you could join him and read your book by him. He looked at you with nothing but pure adoration as he nodded his head yes.

“He’s clearly in love with her.” Rhys added.

The two of them watched as Az turned his head back to his book and you looked at him with just as much love and affection.

“That’s cheating! We need a new bet.” Cass whined.

Rhys just shook his head at him. He didn’t care that he lost the bet, he was just happy to see his brother finally love someone who loved him right back.

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

@darkbloodsly @xtreme-shipper @rcarbo1 @shamelessdonutkryptonite @anna-reader-blog

@favsrachz @julesvanslutta @kitsunetori @i-am-infinite @cat-or-kitten

@tele86 @popcornlauncher @proclivity-for-fantasy-97 @anxious-cactus @amara-moonlight

@whosmys @vanserrasimp @whoevenfrickenknows @secondratecomplaint @fightmedraco

@watermelomsuger @lillilwil @kaitttttttt @andreperez11 @irelanrose

@myromanempiree @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @thestartitaness @macimads @shizukestar

@iluvyewman-blog @mybestfriendmademe @jesskidding3 @secret-sheee @mariahoedt

@lilah-asteria @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @sinfully-yoursss @hellohauntedturnstudent @acourtofbatboydreams

@halo-mystic @tenshis-cake @vhjlucky13 @littlelunatica @blessthepizzaman

@miadialila @knittedchapters @wxhxixtxexroses @ivy-34 @littlepippilongstocking

@userxs-blog @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @topaz125

[dawneternal]

now my head's splitting at the seams

✴︎ in the labyrinth of my pain, would you find me?

✴︎ Azriel x Valkyrie reader, platonic Cassian x reader

✴︎ Summary: you miss a few days of training, down with a bad migraine. It turns out Cassian has a few misconceptions about your condition and, possibly, about pain itself.

✴︎ Warnings: mentions of nausea and vomiting (no descriptions), pain, toxic positivity and ableism, internalized ableism, Cassian's a jerk in the first half. Also I'm so sorry for the tense changing back and forth 💀 I would definitely not call this one a masterpiece

✴︎ Word Count: 3.4k

AO3 Link / Writing Masterlist

✴︎ Notes: somehow writing out my feelings about having a migraine turned into something pretentious about pain and ableism. I think a lot about John Green's "pain is the opposite of language" and how much that's changed my perception of pain

Also listen I love Cassian and I have no problems with him but I had to pick someone to take my feelings out on I'm sorry 💛 also just want to acknowledge that everyone experiences migraines differently and it's not a topic I'm an expert on so I'm sorry if you don't feel well represented by this.

Tbh I could write several essays about the way pain and disability are handled in the acotar books but that's for another time.

Letting out a frustrated groan, you squeeze your eyes shut tighter and twist your knuckle into the pressure point at the base of your palm, chasing the momentary relief it'll give you from your nausea. It works for a minute, and you're considering making your way to the bathroom before another wave hits you when your bedroom door flies open.

"You're late," Cassian's voice bellows through the room and he doesn't see you wince. He strides into the room, footsteps booming across the floorboards, and he's left the door open behind him, letting a traitorous amount of light into your dark room. What good were black out curtains if your darkness was going to be invaded like this anyways?

"Oh my gods you've got to talk quieter," You curl tighter around yourself, head clutched in your hands.

"So you're hungover?" He stops near your bed, arms crossed as he towers over you.

"No, I have a migraine."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

You squint up at him, scowling, swallowing every bad word threatening to spill off your tongue. Though maybe he deserves it for coming into your room without asking.

"Please leave," You say quietly, all the venom you could usually imbue into your voice completely swallowed by your current condition.

"You've missed three days of training." He says by way of answering, definitely not following your request to lower his volume. "You can't coddle yourself like this."

His words punch the air from your lungs. Coddle? Something terrible is rising in your gut, along with the desperate thought that you can't deal with this right now.

"I'm not - this isn't - I don't think you understand how much it hurts." You scramble for words, cheeks heated from pain and anger.

"You've gotta push through it," He says, no hint of sympathy.

"Cassian please."

"I'm not leaving until you agree to come with me."

You don't have time to respond before you're running to the bathroom and throwing up whatever you'd managed to keep down last night, head throbbing with every movement.

Breathing hard, you lean back from the toilet and clutch your head in your hands. The silence rings in your ears and you aren't sure if Cassian is still there or if he finally took mercy on you and left, until his voice makes it's way to you, with just a hint of remorse in it -

"I'd better see you up there."

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Cassian did not see you at training that morning, and you're assuming you've bruised his ego because the next day he doubles down.

The thing is, Rhysand knew of your condition. The other priestesses knew. It's only Cassian being out of the loop and if he understood what a migraine felt like, you're certain he wouldn't be dragging you up there. You were used to dealing with people who didn't understand, had worked hard to learn how to give yourself kindness no matter what other people said. But it's like he knew exactly what things to say, what buttons to press to undo all of that progress.

It was like he'd pulled off your armor, piece by piece, leaving you cold and exposed. Going back to that world where weakness was your given name and it hurt worse than stepping into the ring and fighting the pain. If you could prove him wrong, just make it through a couple of hours, you could return to your sanctuary of darkness. And at least then, you wouldn't hate yourself on top of everything else.

So you followed him up to the training ring, struggling to open your eyes all the way in the morning light, hunched over to make the pain down your shoulders and neck just a bit more bearable. You sway on your feet, but Cassian either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

When he moves aside, revealing your small, huddled frame trailing beside him, Gwyn gasps.

"Cassian!" She cries, her tone scathing, and the hint of smug triumph slips from his face. It disappears completely as Gwyn rushes to your side, folding you into her arms to block your eyes from the light. You groan into her shoulder and go limp in her arms, grateful for the support.

Azriel stands to the side, watching with narrowed eyes. His arms are crossed over his chest like Cassian's, but there is no determination or judgment in his posture or expression. There's angry, crackling flames as he watches the redheaded Valkyrie thread her fingers through your hair and murmur soft comfort.

"She missed training all this week," Cassian says, but he's not barking any more. He's feeling a little bit small underneath the glares that pin him where he stands.

"Yeah, we know," Gwyn says, and it's the closest she's gotten to snapping at him in the whole time they've known each other. She turns to you and her eyes soften. "Let's get you back to bed, love."

"No," You murmur, guilt and shame bringing your resolve to the surface once more. You gently push her away to stand on your own, raising your squinted eyes to meet Cassian's. "I can do it. I'll be fine."

She watches you take shaky steps to the nearest mat and begin stretching, body obviously stiff from a few days in bed. You're conscious of all the eyes on you, far too sympathetic for your liking. This is exactly what you hated.

"Are we starting or not?" You let out a stiff laugh, too aware that your words are lightly slurred. That is absolutely not helping the hangover accusations.

The other priestesses shuffle to get into place, bumping into each other as they move to find their positions. There was still a horrible silence, crackling with fierce anger, all rippling in Cassian's direction. He halfheartedly called a few orders, visibly uncomfortable with the energy in the ring.

And you tried. You tried hard. To move your body through the stretches like normal. But your muscles protested every move, threatening to lock back up, sending stabs of pain through your skull. It didn't take long for the nausea to take over, forcing you to the edge of the ring, doubled over and dry heaving.

"This is ridiculous," Gwyn scoffs before she's at your side again. "You're going to back to bed."

"I will not be weak," You growl at her, panting as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, "I am not lazy."

Gwyn's head snaps around to find Cassian, mouth dropped open in fury as she silently dares him to confirm that he may have suggested weakness to you.

"You're not and you know it," She says softly, hauling you up and leading you away from the training ring. “Don't do that to yourself.”

Cassian is feeling like he's surrounded by wolves, all the glares that are being sent his way. He understands by now that he's messed up, and in front of a group that may not be easily inclined to forgive him. He's sure every single one of them has experienced the disbelief that he foolishly shoved your way. For their pain, or for anything else.

He thought you would snap back to your normal self after a bit of warming up, shake off your symptoms with a bit of movement and sunshine. You were strong enough to, if you wanted to. He'd seen it before. He thought you just didn't want to.

A small, firm hand lands on his arm and he finds himself looking down at Nesta. There's sympathy in her expression, but her eyes twinkle with the threat of a nasty bite if he dares to say anything stupid.

"She gets them after particularly bad flashbacks," Nesta says, "Or sometimes they're just random. Madja says there's no fix for the pain but darkness and sleep."

Cassian's stomach twists so terribly he thinks he might puke, too. In the midst of attempting to instill resilience, he's understanding that he knows nothing of this kind of pain. This is something different, something that cannot be conquered in the same way as emotional pain, as every day aches and injuries. You are a soldier in a battle he has no strategy for.

He may understand the concept of emotional resilience, of getting back up and into the training ring when you don't want to. But this is different.

The final blow, the thing that makes him want to cower and hide, is meeting his brother's eyes. Seeing the fire there transports him back in time, sending flashes of a smaller Azriel pushing himself too hard, determined to show the world that he'd never be less because of the damage to his hands. Fighting against words far too similar to the ones his own brother had spouted to you this morning, desperate to become strong enough that no one would ever doubt his pain and live.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

It was not a surprise that Cassian found himself in Rhysand's office later, confessing how thoroughly he'd fucked up, desperate for a little direction in how to fix this mess.

"It has to be their choice," Rhysand is saying, eyes meeting Cassian's over his glass.

Cassian's mouth opens and closes as he tries to conjure a response. He knows that. Of course he knows that. But apparently, his brain had not wrapped around how far that concept might go.

Cassian let out a grunt as he sat back in his chair, arms crossed. Rhysand knew he didn't have to push any further, he recognized the conflict in his brother's eyes. So he sat with him, quiet, while he processed.

"Do you want to know what it feels like?" He broke the since after a while, as the idea came to him.

"What?" Cassian blinked, startled from his thoughts.

"A migraine," Rhys explained, "Do you want to know what it feels like?"

Cassian frowned, studying his brother's expression for anything resembling amusement, but there was none. So he nods.

Not even a full second later, his skull is attacked with throbbing pain, deep in the base of his neck. He hadn't even noticed the fae lights before, but now they overwhelm him, causing a dull pain to surface behind his eyes. Nausea curled up his throat, threatening ruthlessly.

"Oh gods," He leaned forward and clutched his head in his hands, finding that his limbs trembled under his own weight.

"Do you push yourself when you feel like this?" Rhysand asked softly, not taunting. Prompting.

"I don't really ever feel like this," Cassian grumbled out.

"Hm," Rhysand mused, his brows drawing together. He'd experienced episodes like these often, under the mountain. He knew that Azriel struggled with them through his teenage years, like his brain still struggled to process his senses outside of a dark cell.

Deep in thought, he only remembered to ease up on Cassian's mind when his brother whimpered.

"Some say pain cannot truly be described with language," Rhys says, gaze somewhere else as Cassian gulps down air. "And that your pain is one of the few things that is truly yours, that you can never share. Even if you manage to describe it, it will never be felt by anyone else."

"I thought she was just hungover," Cassian says, but he's not defending himself. Rhysand knows.

"What if she was, though?" He tilts his head to the side, watching his brother carefully.

And that is the thing that had begun to unfurl within Cassian as he stood surrounded by the priestesses he'd wronged. He understood that having true control of your body meant that dictating how pain is handled had to be yours, too. He understood that pushing someone to deal with pain in his own way was a violation in and of itself. He had stepped into the world that you had carefully balanced and re-built around your condition and dared to tell you that you may have done it wrong.

"Will she get better?" He asks, thinking of the agony he'd just experienced for a few short minutes. The same one that you'd been experiencing for three days, now.

"It's hard to say," Rhysand shrugs, "Madja says she will likely experience these off and on for the rest of her life, but she may have some periods of remission."

He tilts his head at his brother again, "You know that a majority of the priestesses have an invisible disability of similar kinds, right? They won't get better. They will be in pain every day until they die."

Rhysand sighs, thinking of the hundreds - possibly thousands - of tins of salve that Azriel has gone through, numbing the pain of his nerve damage. Trembling hands hidden in black gloves, tucked into his body and away from the world. And that is the reason he's bothering telling Cassian of any of this. Otherwise, he might let him figure it out on his own.

"But the healers-" Cassian begins.

"Are there to help them cope with their emotional pain and trauma," Rhysand nods, "But some of them, a lot of them, were disabled as a result of what they went through and will never get better. Like Clotho.”

Oh.

It clicks in Cassian's mind, then. Who else Rhys meant. Who else Cassian had insulted. He had never barged into Azriel's room, insisting that he still train even when he could not flex his fingers without wincing, without trembling too hard to hold a glass of water. But he'd done it to you, in front of him. And that pinned his disbelief on Azriel all the same.

Azriel's pain, your pain, were enemies that neither of you could defeat. And here he was, shoving a sword into your hands, and insisting that you try.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

A soft knock sounds against your door, so quiet you almost don't hear it. You stare at it, wondering if you should pretend that you didn't. But then the knob turns slowly and it opens just a crack, and a soft voice is saying into the darkness,

"Hey, it's Azriel. Can I come in?"

Your breath catches in your throat, and you watch his shadows dancing back and forth through the thin wedge of light he's letting in.

"Sure," You say, moving quickly to smooth your rumpled clothes and tangled hair before he steps in. You're not exactly sure what he thinks of you after this morning.

He steps inside and closes the door behind him. His eyes seem to glow in the darkness, an amber-honey color, and somehow you can still see his shadows, like they're even darker than your room with no light.

"I just wanted to check on you," He says, crouching down beside your bed so you don't have to sit up.

"I'm okay," You say, still getting over the surprise of the Shadowsinger in your space. It's true, though, you suppose. You're used to all of your other symptoms by now, and your heart hurts worse than your head.

"He's an idiot sometimes," Azriel says, basically spits. A smile begins to spread on your face so he continues, “Like, sometimes he's just an asshole, straight up. But this time, believe it or not, I think he actually meant well and was just an idiot.”

“I know,” You give him a sad smile and all of the anger melts from his face.

“I think he went to buy flowers if that makes you feel any better,” He sighs. You know he's just as mad at Cassian as you are, maybe even more mad. But he still can't help vouching for him. It's definitely going to take more than flowers to forgive him, but it's a good start. You also appreciate that Azriel has bothered to warn you ahead of time, in case you wanted to avoid Cassian's apology.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, so quietly. And you wonder who else has earned this tenderness from him.

“It's not too bad right now,” you say truthfully, though you know that sitting up or going outside might be pushing your luck.

“Still hurts?”

“Yeah. Still hurts.”

He nods. “I can try something that helps me, sometimes.”

You search his eyes for a moment, then nod.

“Can I touch your face?” He asks, almost a whisper.

Your heart leaps into your throat and you fight to keep your face neutral as you nod again, no idea what he's planning to do with you.

Slowly, leaving enough time for you to stop him, he reaches out. He's not wearing gloves, like usual, and in the dark you can just barely make out the uneven silhouette of his dimpled, scarred hands.

His fingers land gently on your forehead, and he presses his thumb between your brows. Gently at first, and then harder, circling a tender point under your skin. It makes the pain in your head sharper, and you let out a hiss.

“I know,” He says, “Bear with me a minute.”

You close your eyes, biting back a whimper, but after a moment the pain begins to ease. He keeps going for a few minutes and you feel your whole body relax, pain free for the first time in days.

You don't realize how much you've leaned into his touch until he gently pulls away and you find your head falling forward with him.

“What is that?” You open your eyes and blink at him.

“A pressure point,” He grins, and it almost looks like he's blushing.

“That's magical,” you say. You hesitate for a moment, and then, “you can sit on the bed if you want.”

Azriel smiles and straightens, and you move your pillow to the side to make space for him. He slides off his boots and sits on the bed next to you, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. You place your pillow next to his lap and settle back into it.

“Thank you,” You say, your body feeling lighter than it has in days.

“Of course,” he says.

A silence settles, but it's not uncomfortable. There's something in it that you understand. He's just keeping you company. Here to sit with you in your pain.

It's easy to relax in his presence, between his calm aura and the pain relief he's offered you. And you find yourself spilling the question that's been circling though your mind since this morning.

“What if I can't fight, someday? What if I can't be a Valkyrie anymore?”

Azriel stills beside you. It's a long moment before he says anything. You're tense beside him, and it makes you flinch when he brings his hand so gently to rest on your head. Not moving, just resting.

“First,” He says, in the same soft voice, “You'll always be a Valkyrie. Because you cut the ribbon. Because you sisters will never let you go. And because I know for a fact that the Valkyries did not strip their warriors of their title if they became disabled by an illness or an injury.”

“Really?” You breathe.

“Mhm,” He hums in affirmation. You forget sometimes that he knows the Valkyries from more than history books.

“And second,” His voice drops lower, like he's sharing a secret with you. His hand moves, fingers slipping gingerly through your hair. And it makes you realize that he came here with his hands uncovered as an offer of solidarity. Combing his scarred fingers through your hair, he is offering you vulnerability, like recompense for what you bared this morning. A trade. A truce.

“If you cannot fight,” He continues, “Then you will show the world that a formidable woman can be made from more than fighting skills. You will still be - will always be - something incredible.”

Tears prickle at your eyes, form a lump in your throat. You reach up to grasp his hand, the only thank you that you can manage in the moment, and he lets you.

There's another silence, as he holds your hand in the dark.

“Who helps you?” You ask, turning to look up at him. He watches your eyebrows knit together, so serious, and he swallows a smile.

“What do you mean?” He says.

You bring one finger up to tap the space between his own eyebrows.

“With your pain? Who helps you like you helped me?”

“Um,” He shrugs, “Sometimes Rhys if he has time. Otherwise, no one.”

That's what you thought, but it still makes your heart twist in your chest. It takes a deep breath before you have the courage to say the next words out loud.

“You should tell me next time you're in pain. And I'll help.”

Azriel stares back at you, something bewildered in his eyes. Because he sees your suggestion for what it is. The same thing he offered you. A trade. A truce.

A beginning.

“Yes,” He whispers into the dark, and his hand closes around yours. “I will.”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Could you write Rhys x ambivert reader? In case you don’t know what that is, it just means a person who has a personality with both extrovert and introvert features.

Ambivert

I think this would just mean you and Rhys are practically the same. Because as much as our beloved high lord is extraverted, he too enjoys his time away from everyone.

This would come down to Rhys learning your social battery capacity. He knows you enjoy a good night out. Drinking and dancing with your friends and family. Singing with Cassian and laughing so hard your eyes sting. But he equally as much knows that there are days where any, even the smallest interaction, makes you feel like your brain might explode.

So Rhys is always up for whatever you may come up with. You stroll into his office, saying, "Cass said he can be the last man standing if we go out to drink aged fairy wine. Want to prove him wrong?" And Rhys is snickering because, of course, it's you who's trying to call out Cass on his bullshit. "You think you can beat him, darling?", he would purr, making your eye grow wide, "You didn't just side with your brother..." Rhys laughed slightly, raising to his feet so he could step closer to you, "I'm always on your side, my sweet sweet girl".

He still ends up carrying you home while you're dead drunk. Muttering over how Cassian is a cheater and how Rhys should never trust him with his secrets because if that man found out about your secret snack stash. Oh, you all would be doomed.

But then there are days where you are curdled on the little sofa in Rhys's office. Your maté's presence is the only thing your overstimulated head can handle. You hear a light knock on the door. Instantly moving to cover your head with a blanket. If you can't see them, they can't see you, right?

Rhys watches you shrink into your safe cocoon. Before he mutters a quick, "Come in". It's Azriel, who is quick to read the room. His shadows twirl to try to look beneath the blanket but he pulls them back. "Wrong timing?", the spymaster asks. Rhys just smiles softly, making Azriel nod, "Well, the rest of us are going to Rita's. Thought I would ask", his voice is low and calm. You think about popping up from beneath the blanket but you just can't pull enough strength to do so. "We appreciate the offer", the velvet sound of Rhys's voice fills the air, "But we'll decline this time. I think it's more a tea and biscuits in bed kind of night". Azriel chuckles lightly. You push your hand out to show them both a thumbs up.

"Right... well you two enjoy it", Azriel says before leaving the room. The silence falls upon the room once more. That's until you feel a light tapping of fingers on your shoulder. You push the blanket down your face slightly, only to be met with loving velvet eyes. "Long time no see, darling", Rhys says softly, tilting his head slightly. "How about I carry you to bed?", he asks, "What about work?", you ask quietly. Rhys just shrugs his shoulders, "Can wait till morning. Especially when all I can think about is tea and cookies now".

[angelsandstxrs]

the high lord keeps interrupting azriel and his mate, until she finally has enough

warnings: 18+, achingly inaccurate to anything acotar, badly written brainstorming as usual, no usage of Y/N so probs a bit confusing at times, smut, azriel wanting employee of the month, (let me know if there’s anything else) words: ~4.2k

It wasn’t uncommon for Azriel to be called by the High Lord at ungodly hours. His work was needed more than often at night, or over a multitude of days or weeks. Her mate's lack of a schedule meant that he’d been called from her more than once when they had been together, and she’d been understanding, until Rhysand seemed to have taken it upon himself to interrupt all her alone time with her mate.

-

“Right there, Az-,” she gasped, fingers tightening in the silky hair under her hand and forcing a growl from the male between her legs. “Oh, gods—“

Her head tipped back against the cold marble wall, eyes closed and face turned towards the high curved ceiling above her. The vacant hallway they had found themselves in was bathing in darkness, both from the usual depressing state of the Court of Nightmares, but also from Azriel’s shadows covering them both and hiding them from the potential threat of any straggling visitors. One of said shadows slid up her leg, under the opening of her dress messily pushed over her hips, passing over the big palm sprawled firmly over the entirety of her lower back, before teasingly drawing around to her front and caressing her cleavage heaving in the neckline of her dress.

A second growl vibrated against her pulsating heat, this time sounding less pleasured and more agitated. The difference was not lost on her, even with her hips desperately grinding down on his tongue, searching for a release from the pleasure coursing through her. The hand on her lower back pulled lower, and for a blissful second she thought his irritation was sourced from her squirming, that she’d receive a sharp slap on the flesh he was digging his fingers into and perhaps a growled warning to Stay still. 

The thought alone had her core curling tight, breaths shortening in preparation for an orgasm — that faded away to dust when her mate pulled away with an even angrier sound she knew wasn’t aimed at her.

“It’s Rhys.” 

The panted exclamation had her tilting her head forward with a quiet groan, eyes sliding open to find Azriel peering up at her from where he was kneeling at her feet, hazel eyes glassed over and jaw clenched tight as he communicated with the High Lord. 

“He’s asking for us.” His voice came from the back of his throat, thick and strained.

She licked her lips, heart pounding in her chest and thighs still tensed in the promise of the shattering orgasm she had been seconds away from.

“Right now?” She pointlessly asked, already knowing the answer.

“Right now.” Azriel confirmed as he eased her leg off his shoulder, careful of her sharp heels near his wings. 

Another quiet groan slipped past her lips, and this time she tilted her head back in exasperation, making no move to help the warm calloused hands tugging her dress down into place again.

“I hate him.” She grumbled and watched Azriel stand, straightening in front of her.

“Don’t pout, angel,” He tilted her chin up with a finger, giving her a soft peck before pulling away with a quietly amused expression. “I’ll make it up to you later.”

She gave him a glare without any real malice behind it, mostly to wind him up a little for later.

“You better.” 

-

He didn’t make it up to her that night. As usual, their visit in the Court of Nightmares didn’t end without trouble, and Rhysand had sent his Spymaster out on a mission before they’d even returned to Velaris. She didn’t know the specifics of the mission, most of the time she didn’t want to know beforehand. It saved her the sleepless nights and worries about if this would be the time he didn’t make it back. With only her imagination she could pretend he was safe and sound, that Rhysand had sent him to check the water levels in the ocean or anything else without any dangers.

The only sign of his distance was the mating bond growing restless, perhaps it had also been fueled by the way he’d been taken from her, but when Azriel returned after a week, she was starving for him.

She was cleaning up in the kitchen after dinner when the mating bond tightened at the same time something familiar brushed against her leg. Looking down, she found a stray shadow coiling around her ankle, eagerly swirling up the expanse of her calf.

Dishes long forgotten, she quickly wiped her hands and hurried out to the foyer, smile widening as the sound of the door opening reached her ears. More shadows flocked her, she payed them no mind as threw herself into their master’s awaiting arms. Azriel lifted her easily off the ground, winding her legs around his hips. His wings, as always, wrapped around them as if shielding them from the world.

She hugged him tighter and buried her face into his neck, drowning herself in his scent.

“Welcome home, my love.” Her words were muffled against the warm skin of his neck.

His smile widened enough for her to feel it against her shoulder before he quietly breathed out, “I missed you so much, angel.”

The plans to have him take a seat at the dining table and feed him the plate of leftovers she’d spared for him just in case, flew out of her head the second his hand tangled in her hair and guided her mouth to his. Kissing Azriel was always mind-numbing and consuming, especially when she hadn’t seen him in a week. It left her desperately holding onto him, fingers pulling through his messily tousled hair as if she could force him even closer. She barely registered him winnowing, only the sudden tilt of her world when he fell back on their bed with her still on top of him.

Planting her knees on the mattress, she straddled his lap as her fingers danced over his leathers, unbuckling and unlacing the sleek buckles and laces. She’d done it countless times, could probably do it blindfolded with her hands tied if she really needed to.

Azriel sighed happily against her lips when she shedded the jacket and undershirt off him, discarding it to the bedroom floor. Her palms greedily slid over his abdomen, taking in the toned muscles honed from centuries of hard training. Another breathy sound emitted from him, this time caused by her hips circling over his lap, grinding down on the hard bulge underneath her.

“Gods-, I missed you.” He repeated as his hands palmed up her thighs, sliding under the oversized shirt that was probably one of his old ones.

“Missed you too.” She panted, pulling back and reaching for the edge of the shirt to lift it over her head. He stopped her, hazel eyes burning wildly and lips swollen as he blinked up at her.

“Leave it on.” 

Giving a half-minded nod, she leaned forward to continue when he suddenly stilled underneath her. 

“Rhys wants my mission report.” He pulled away to talk, words halfway muffled into the kiss.

“Mhm.” She kissed him again, reveling in the taste of him after a long week without him. This time he reciprocated fully, slow and indulging, fueled by the same longing she was feeling.

“I have to go, angel.” He protested half-heartedly against her lips, filling his palms with handfuls of her backside.

“Tell him he can wait.” She tried to persuade him, trailing her kisses lower, down over his collarbones and to the muscular planes of his chest.

Azriel sighed wearily, hands falling from her body to the mattress with a dull thump. Pulling back, she sat up in his lap and stubbornly crossed her arms.

“You know I can’t do that.” He said, the smooth drawl of his voice even softer than usual, hazel eyes round and pleading.

“How long will it take?” She asked, having a bad feeling it wasn’t going to be a quick affair.

“A few hours.” Azriel confirmed her suspicions, giving her an apologetic look.

With a reluctant sigh, she slid off his lap and settled into bed.

“Tell Rhys I hate him.” She drawled sarcastically when he reached for his undershirt from the floor, swiftly pulling it over his head.

“He already knows.” He teased, eyes glinting with quiet amusement when she rolled her eyes. 

“Go now, shadowsinger. I’ll wait up for you.” She hurriedly waved him off, wanting him to return quicker. Azriel chuckled, shaking his head with a smile before he left.

She tried to wait up for him, but eventually fell asleep. Half-expecting the bed to be empty she was more than happy when she woke up in the comforting warmth of her mate’s arms, his snores low against the top of her head.

The first tired rays of sunlight filtered through the curtains, bathing the bedroom in a warm glow and forcing her to blink a few times to adjust her eyes to the light. Azriel’s deep breaths over her head kept steady, the sound alone made her smile. She could spend hours like this, there was nowhere she felt more safe or comfortable than in his embrace, but the nagging reminder that he hadn’t eaten anything yesterday made her mind restless.

Lifting his arm slowly, she tried to slide out of his grasp without waking him. As if wanting her to fail, the shadows that had been idly dispersed around the room took notice of her, and before she could dismiss them, dark tendrils were leisurely crawling up on the bed and reaching out to affectionately stroke her cheek.

She knew from experience it was no use to ask them to leave now, and relaxed back against their master right before his arms tightened and forced her to him again.  

“Stay.” The blunt order sounded less commanding with his sleep-coated voice, barely more than a low rumble from the back of his throat.

“I was going to make you breakfast.” She said, softly tracing her fingers over his arm firmly secured around her waist. His face buried in her shoulder, soft black hair tickling her cheek when he simply shook his head.

“Later.” He gruffly replied, hand dipping under her camisole before his warm palm sprawled over her stomach.

“But you must be hungry. You’ve probably barely eaten, and you didn’t have dinner yesterday-,” Her worried rant was interrupted by a bite to the curve of her shoulder, words disappearing from her when his soft lips replaced his teeth and left a trail of soothing kisses over her bare skin.

“I’m fine, angel. Let me hold you for a second.” He murmured and buried his face in her neck, hand on her stomach pulling her closer.

With her backside flush to his hips, a new sort of heat spread across her body, flaring outwards from the depths of her core. He shifted behind her, as if to get comfortable, and the heavy, hot length of him ended up nestled against her backside. Suddenly the big palm on her stomach, pinky finger casually slipped underneath the waistband of her panties, didn’t feel so casual anymore. Neither did the arm secured under her chest, warm hand firmly planted on one of her covered breasts. 

Her body seemed to have been reminded of the pleasure it had been denied, not once but twice, in a short amount of time, nerves coming to life under his touch. But it was too selfish to shove his hand down her panties and arch her back in offering. He had been working. He needed sleep. 

She repeated those sentences as she tried to will her burning body to calm down and keep her self-control in check to not let the overwhelming desire control her. 

The pattern of his breaths suddenly changed.

Her brows furrowed in confusion before she realized what was happening. She tried to turn her head to glare at him, but his face firmly buried in her shoulder stopped her.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Azriel.” She hissed when his chest shook with another round of silent laughter.

“I’m sorry,” Azriel chuckled, not sounding apologetic at all. His hand on her stomach slid slightly lower, ring finger dragging along the edge of her panties. “You’re too sweet.”

Whatever insult that had been spewing on her tongue was forgotten when he tilted his head, pressing a slow kiss to the side of her neck as one of his wings folded over them.

“Will you ever forgive me?” He murmured, still a teasing edge to his voice even as he snuck a leg between her own, hoisting her thigh to rest on his and leaving her spread open for him.

“I’ll have to-,” Her words caught in her throat when his fingers slid her panties to the side, softly grazing her folds. She swallowed thickly to clear her throat. “Think about it.”

Curling his fingers up to her swollen clit and rubbing lazy circles over the sensitive nub aching for attention, he hummed in acknowledgement, “Mhm.”

The circles on her clit tightened, grew slightly rougher, and she had no hope of holding back the gasped moan coming from her chest. His other hand slipped beneath the top of her camisole, rolling her perked nipple between skillful fingers. The pleasured pain shot like lightning down her spine, leaving her cunt clenching around nothing and eyes falling shut. Another open-mouthed messy kiss was placed on the side of her throat, surely leaving marks she’d have to cover today.

“Did you touch this pretty little cunt for me while I was gone?” Azriel husked against her skin, sounding like he already knew the answer. Which he probably did, considering he somehow always knew exactly what she had been up to when he was gone.

She shook her head, mouth parting around a soft gasp when two of the long thick digits slowly pressed inside her.

“No?” The pleased smirk on his face was so big it could be heard in his voice, making her body flush with warmth. “Such a good girl, aren’t you? Waiting for me to take care of you.”

His fingers thrusted into her in a steady pace, not with the purpose to make her come, but to ready her for something else. However with her body so high-strung, the friction of his fingers along her tightened walls had stars dancing across her eye-lids. And when they curled, pressing against that soft spot she couldn’t reach herself, a sharp gasp tumbled out of her as her body tensed, prepared to unfurl at the next touch.

“Not yet, angel,” Azriel reprimanded, hand pulling away from between her legs and forcing a pitiful whimper from her at the loss. “You’ll only come on my cock.” 

That promise had her mind reeling and hips instinctually arching back towards him.

“Please, Az-, I want it so bad-,” She sounded like a wanton whore, and she felt like one too when he shifted behind her, one arm still wound tight around her frame as he pushed his underwear down his legs.

A shadow wrapped itself around her upper thigh, suspending her leg higher over his muscular thigh and exposing her fully to the otherwise empty bedroom. She reached a hand back to curl around the back of his neck as his breaths grew labored beside her ear, giving himself a few careless tugs before his cock nudged at her pulsating heat.

Right when relief was in her grasp, he suddenly stilled, forehead coming to rest heavily against her shoulder as he let out a heavy sigh.

“No.” The dreadful exclamation flew out of her, sensing where her mate’s attention had gone when the shadows around them hesitantly drew away, somehow taking with them all the boiling tension that had been simmering around them.

“He has another mission for me.” Azriel’s exhale was low.

“But you just came back,” she found herself complaining, even if she knew it meant absolutely nothing. Turning in his hold to slide her palms over his chest and the Illyrian markings sweeping up his neck, she filled her eyes with as much pleading as she could. “Please, Az.”

He sighed again, hazel eyes full of warmth as he peered down at her pouting face.

“I’ll only be a few days. It’s a follow-up from this past week.” He explained, gently caressing her cheek with his knuckles.

“He can’t send you away when you’ve barely been home twelve hours! You need to eat too!” She argued, voice raising when she once again remembered that he hadn’t had dinner last night.

He visibly tried to fight it, but one corner of his mouth tilted in a slanted grin. The sight of the dimple in his cheek brightened the turmoil in her head slightly.

“I promise to eat.” He cooed, clearly amused at her worried state.

The pout on her face deepened, both at the implication that he was leaving and the sparkling mirth in her mate’s eyes.

“I’ll know if you lie.” She threatened, intertwining their hands and pressing them over her heart.

Azriel’s expression softened as he leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

“I’d never lie to you, angel.” 

She was still pouting as she watched him dress, the leathered uniform black as night even in the rising sun, siphons glowing brightly when he braced a hand on the bed and leaned over to give her a sweet kiss.

“Three days.” Azriel reminded as he pulled away.

“I love you. Be careful.” Her heart squeezed in her chest when he gave her another one of those dimpled grins that were reserved only for her.

“I love you more.” And with that he was gone, leaving her to plot her revenge for herself.

-

It was a carefully crafted plan. It had to be, with both Feyre and Rhysand’s ability to thread into her mind and see exactly what she had up her sleeve. 

She proposed some girl time to Feyre, and they made plans to go around town for an afternoon. During their stroll and mindless window shopping, she guided Feyre into the boutique at the end of the promenade, the one with lush velvet curtains and sparkling chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The one with one-of-a-kind handcrafted lingerie. 

Under the guise that she had to pick up an ordered set, she pointed Feyre to the selective pieces of soft lace and shiny silk hanging along the walls. It was an easy feat to get her into the dressing room, even easier to plant the idea in her head.

“You know, Azriel goes crazy for these,” She toyed with the lace colored in a particular shade of blue in her hands, watching Feyre twirl in the dressing room. The High Lady peered at her through the mirror, curiosity shining in her blue eyes. “I like to make it into a game. To tease him. Whenever I buy anything new I put on a revealing dress over, just barely showing off the edges of the bra, or the outline of the garter-belt. It usually has him on his knees in no time.” 

Curiosity morphed into something else, something rather dark and wicked. And when the corner of Feyre’s mouth itched upwards before she asked the clerk, Do you have this in any other colors? — it was abundantly clear her plan had worked.

She smiled all the way home. Throughout her lonely dinner. When she pulled forth the ingredients to bake. As she packed the baked goods in a basket, draping the sweetness in a soft cloth.

When Feyre opened the door, cheeks slightly flushed and a silk robe carelessly tugged around her lithe body, flashes of black lace peeking out from the opening, she had to tune down the victorious grin wanting to carve her face. She’d timed it perfectly.

“Do you have a moment?” She innocently inquired, raising the basket with warm pastries to bring the younger fae’s attention to it.

Perhaps it was cruel to use Feyre’s kindness like this, but she reminded herself that the High Lord the kind girl had the displeasure of being mated to was far more evil. 

“Of course.” Feyre smiled, a forced and rushed expression, as she opened the front door wider. 

The High Lady and Lord’s house was as warm and inviting as always, especially with the candles lit around the living and dining room, clear evidence of a romantic evening.

Feyre walked her towards the sitting area, gesturing for her to have a seat in one of the couches as she did the same. Taking her time to place the basket on the table and make herself comfortable in the plush leather couch, she almost missed when the High Lady gracefully hid a piece of fabric that looked suspiciously close to a dress behind the decorative pillows.

“These are my favorites.” Feyre politely remarked, leaning forward and reaching for one of the freshly baked pastries in the basket.

“I’m glad you like them-,” She was interrupted by a presence that seemed to be vibrating with powerful darkness.

“What are you doing here?” Rhysand’s tone offered no politeness, unlike his graceful wife. His eyes narrowed in accusation when she innocently smiled up at his rigid form stood rooted in the doorway to their open living room.

“I made cardamom buns, and I remembered how much Feyre liked them last time-,”

“You came over now, with pastries?” His accusatory gaze pointedly glanced out the windows, to the pitch black darkness outside.

“Rhys.” Feyre hissed quietly, catching onto the unfamiliar irritation clouding the High Lord.

“I had no one else at home to share them with.” She answered, tilting her head to the side when Rhysand merely stared at her as if trying to force her out of his house without speaking. Centuries of friendship with the male had her knowing exactly what he was asking of her.

What do you want? His voice flooded her mind the second the dropped a portion of her mental shields.

Call Azriel back and give him a month off work.

He huffed out an unamused scoff, You had three months when you mated. You can have a day.

She fought back the urge to roll her eyes. That was centuries ago. A week without any disturbance. That’s my last offer.

His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing into slits.

Don’t test me, Rhys. I can show her the recipe. She threatened, filling her tone with as much conviction as she could.

Fine. One week. If he’s not back well-rested I’m blaming you.

“Well, I should head home.” She cleared her throat and offered Feyre a smile as the presence in her mind retreated.

The younger fae’s eyes widened, almost apologetically. “Oh, you don’t have-,”

“Sounds like a great idea,” Rhysand interrupted his wife, turning to almost point towards the front door. “It is awfully late.”

“I’ll leave these for you two,” She gestured to the basket of freshly baked pastries on the table as she headed out of the room, shooting Rhysand a quick smirk. “Trust me, you’ll need them after you’ve seen her in the red set.”

After winnowing home, she headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed. It only took a few minutes before the door to the ensuite creaked open, Azriel’s tall statue filling the doorframe.

“Welcome home, my love.” She smiled, running the brush in her hand over her hair.

It took him less than two strides to cross the distance between them, arms winding around her from behind before his head tilted down to press a sweet kiss to her cheek.

“What did you do?” His eyes met hers through the mirror as he straightened again.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She feigned innocence, leaning back into his embrace.

“You had nothing to do with Rhysand telling me he won’t be contacting me for a week?” He tilted his head down again, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Or that he called me back and told me to go home to my freakishly stubborn mate?”

“He said that?” A smile lifted her lips, growing further when her mate breathed out a low chuckle.

“I think he wanted to say even more. He sounded a little agitated.” 

“You know how he is. Always in a mood.” She teased, breaking their eye-contact to place the hairbrush in her hand back on the counter. With the movement, the opening of her robe widened and bared more of her chest. 

The grip on her hips tightened, fingers digging into the silk of her robe as the siphons on the back of his hands flared with the same color as the lace of her lingerie now deliberately on show.

“I was thinking we could go up to the cabin, or I could ask Helion if we could spend a few days-,” The rest of her sentence dissolved into a cut-off gasp when she was abruptly bent over at the waist, shadows quickly dampening her fall to the granite counter. 

“Or I’ll have you right here for the rest of the week.” Azriel stated, bluntly pushing the bottom of the robe over her arched hips. 

“How unexciting.” She countered, albeit a bit breathlessly when the expensive lace adoring her backside was roughly ripped down to pool at her ankles.

Azriel laughed, a foot nudging between her own and forcing her legs apart. “Good thing we have plenty of time to make it exciting.”

(thank you so much for the support on my first post. much love xx)

[really-fanny-longbottom]

only in my dreams

summary: love has two sides. it can be pure, beautiful, and exciting, but it can also be lonely, painful, and the worst of all — unrequited.

warnings: mentions of heartbreak, unrequited love, alcohol, death and a curse word.

pairings: azriel x reader

words: 3.4k

you should have stayed at home.

you knew you shouldn't have come.  

you knew it was a bad idea from the moment you walked through the threshold of the balcony of the house of wind.

it was sad to know that this house used to be your safe haven — a place where you were happy and felt safe, where you could be yourself. 

but now it makes you want to leave as quickly as possible and never come back.

because that was the only solution to not having to see the scene that was unfolding in front of your eyes. 

your eyes — the same ones that used to contain love and happiness, were now sad and empty.

the same ones who used to shine with excitement every time you entered a room looked now absent — as if something had sucked away their vitality and left nothing behind.

even your kind and warm smiles had started to appear less frequently until they disappeared completely.

that's how you looked now — no sparkles in your eyes and no smile on your face as you moved the food on your plate with a fork from side to side.

you stopped listening to the conversation a long time ago. 

it was another dinner night with the inner circle at the house of wind. you were sitting between rhys, who was at the head of the table on your right side, and nesta on your left side.

you were trying everything to keep your eyes on your plate so you didn't have to watch elain being courted by azriel — the owner of your heart and the reason it was breaking little more day by day.

he wasn't to blame and you didn't blame him for his feelings towards the middle archeron sister, afterall, no one has the power to choose who they like or love — but it didn't make it any less painful.

pain — you were feeling it a lot now.  

every time elain laughed at something azriel whispered to her made it hurt even more.  

your power wasn't helping you at all right now.  

Being an empath had its advantages — it allowed you to feel and understand the emotions and feelings of others and increase and decrease their intensity. it also allowed you to know when someone is lying or telling the truth and to control and manipulate them, despite not using the last two (unless it was necessary) because you believe it to be incorrect.

but the thing most people didn't know about being an empath is that it affects your emotions and feelings, too.

it makes you feel everything more intensely — meaning that you felt everything ten times more than everyone else.

a good joke that made others laugh until their stomachs hurt — made you cry with laughter. 

simple things that made others happy — made you jump with joy.

and when others felt passion — you felt love. 

you loved with more strength and intensity than everyone, but you also suffered in the same way.

and when you suffer, it's like your light has been turned off.

a hand on your knee took you out of your thoughts — nesta.  

she was the only reason you were here — literally, she dragged you from the library when you told her you wouldn't be joining them for dinner.

the older archeron sister had become one of your favorite people. 

nesta was the one who had the most difficult time in adjusting and accepting this new life, so instead of ignoring her as some did, you decided to be the first to extend your hand to her.

it all started with your mutual interest in books. it started with book recommendations, then exchanges and finally reading them together.

by the time you noticed, you were training together, sharing meals, and adventuring in the city.

your friendship was not easy — nesta made sure of that.  

at first, she tried to push you away with cold stares and nasty comments, but you knew better than anyone that it was nothing but a defense mechanism.

you knew that when she said she was better off alone, she really just wanted someone to hug her.

so, knowing better than anyone, you fought for her.  

you ignored the cold stares and faced her nasty comments, and when she tried to push you away, you stood your ground and didn't let her.  

little by little, she let you in, and you got to know her — the real nesta.  

over time, the staring stopped, the comments disappeared, and instead of trying to push you away, she started looking for your company.

your friendship turned into a sisterhood, and now, Nesta would fight for you just as much as you fought for her. 

your sisterhood grew, and short after that, you were welcoming emerie and gwyn — your girls.

quickly, a friendship was formed between the four of you, and there was no one you trusted more than each other.  

they told everything about themselves, their past, their fears, and even their secrets.

so, you did the same — except your feelings for the shadowsinger, nesta was the only one who knew about that.

you joined the inner circle one hundred and fifty years ago when you moved to velaris to live with your great-aunt madja.

despite being an empath, you also inherited a natural talent for healing just like your aunt.

that's how you met rhysand and his family.

there was an enemy attack in windhaven with several fatalities and many injured illyrians, which required all the healers who worked at the clinic, including you and madja, to be winnowed there by morrigan.

as soon as you arrived, it was total chaos. the soldiers who were not injured, and even some who were, did not stop running from one side to the other, nor did they stop shouting or grabbing weapons and demanding to go after those who fled making it impossible for the healers to help. 

the enemy had already been defeated before your arrival, so you were not in danger and for that reason, you did not hesitate to use your powers.

you made your way so you could stand right in the middle of the soldiers. 

you raised your arms to the sides and closed your eyes, and with a little bit of focus you let the soldiers' emotions start to invade you from head to toe.

then with a long sigh, you took control of their emotions and released your power.

the soldiers immediately stopped in their places and went limp before starting to fall to the ground unconscious.

you put them to sleep.

it was the only safe way for the healers to be able to do their work even though you didn't like having this kind of control over someone.

the only ones who were not affected were the high lord, his brothers, and his cousin.

their eyes were fixed on you, who remained standing among the sleeping soldiers.

and when they turned to you for an explanation of what had just happened, they were even more shocked when you revealed to them what you were and what you had just done.

they had never met anyone with that kind of power, and so they were having a little trouble getting their faces back to an expression of neutrality.

impressed wasn't enough to describe how they were feeling at that very moment.

qs a thanks, rhysand offered you a position in his inner circle. after some hesitation and several lectures from madja about how it would be a bad idea (and lack of education) to refuse such an offer, you accepted.

moving to the house of wind, you established friendships with all the members, but azriel was the one you became closest to.  

you became best friends over time, and before you could stop your heart, you fell in love with him.  

even when he was already in love with mor.

despite knowing about his affections towards the blonde female, it hadn't hurt as much as it does now because azriel had never acted on his feelings for her.

but you decided to wait. you believed that one day the mother would smile upon you, and she would grant you the wish you carried in your heart every day.

therefore, during that time, you were content to love him from afar — and in the shadows.

you thought that day had finally arrived after noticing the change in azriel's behavior towards mor after the arrival of the archeron sisters.  

you couldn't be more wrong.

you couldn't help but find this whole situation ironic. after decades of seeing azriel in love with mor and hoping that one day he would notice you, he was now courting elain.

the archeron sisters came into your life and turned everything upside down. you were grateful that feyre and nesta's path led them to you, but you couldn't feel the same way about elain.

before you could wander in your thoughts even more, nesta squeezed your knee, getting your attention again. 

you looked at your best friend and noticed the worry on her face, so putting your hand on top of hers, you murmured to her a small "i'm okay" and gave her a small smile. 

"are you sure?" she murmured too, so no else could hear it. 

you nodded your head at her and returned your attention to your plate.

rhys' voice made you look up, and you regretted it immediately because in that exact moment, you saw azriel and elain's hands intertwined on the top of the table.

you shook your head and looked at your high lord — who had become a very good friend of yours.

"are our plans at rita's still on for tomorrow night?" rhys asked. 

everyone — but you — said their agreements before azriel spoke, "actually, elain and i have plans for tomorrow night." 

your breathing got caught on your throat, and nesta's hand flew immediately to yours, grabbing it gently.

it was Feyre who asked, "where are you going?" you could've sworn there was a hint of surprise in her voice.

"to the new restaurant that just opened by the rainbow. it's supposed to be very good," elain's eyes moved from her younger sister to the male sitting next to her, "so we decided to try it." 

cassian cleared his throat, and he looked in your direction before looking at the people in front of him. "it's that a date? are you going on a date?"

azriel chuckled and squeezed elain's hand. "i guess we can call it that." 

you stood up abruptly, attracting everyone's eyes, "sorry. i just remembered that madja needs my assistance to visit a patient tomorrow, and i forgot to prepare the medical bag." 

you excused yourself before leaving the dining room and making your way towards the stairs. 

you heard cassian and nesta calling your name, but you didn't bother to turn as you started to descend the ten thousand steps.

through your power, you were able to realize that no one — with the exception of your best friend and her mate — noticed your lie. 

Just as they didn't notice the tears that filled your eyes as soon as you turned your back on them and left the room.

••• 

you went to your aunt's house.  

the last thing madja expected to find at her door at that time of night was her niece with red eyes and tears running freely down her cheeks.

she barely let you walk in before she wrapped your figure into a tight embrace. 

she had noticed the change in your mood recently but decided not to comment because she knew very well that as soon as you were ready to talk, you would tell her everything.

and that's what you did.

you told her everything as you both rested on her pink couch with your head in her lap while she caressed your hair, listening to your words attentively.

you ended up falling asleep with your cheeks stained from the tears, and madja didn't dare to move. she refused to awake you from your peaceful slumber.

she bent down to kiss your head, and when she raised again, she saw a piece of parchment on the top of the table next to the couch, reaching for it.

it was rhysand asking where you were. 

madja answered for you, saying that you were with her and spending the night at her house. 

it didn't take long until your aunt joined you into your slumber.

- 

the following night, you made your way towards the House after a hard day at the clinic. 

the day got worse when the patient you went to see at his residence didn't make it.

sometimes, you hate your job, especially because of your powers. when things got too much for you to handle, you had to put a shield around you to prevent you from feeling your patients worries or pains.

the patient you visited was heavily sick. it was too late to do anything medical, so you did the only thing you could.

you used your powers. let his emotions invade you, and then, with a long sigh, you took away his pain and transferred it to you.

that was the only thing you could do for him at that moment, and you are more than relieved that you were able to provide him comfort while he left this world, making his passing easier for him and his family.

you climbed the ten thousand steps, but it didn't even bother you. you were too busy thinking about your patient and whether his family would be okay.

you made a mental note to visit them the next day and help where you could.

you pushed these thoughts away as you opened the door and entered the House.

all you needed right now was to be with your friends and forget about this awful day.

when you walked into the living room, you remembered that everyone went to rita's.

well, everyone, but you, azriel, and elain. the two of them were on their date tonight. 

and like a snap of a finger, all your emotions and feelings from the last few months and days came flooding back.  

your eyes fell on rhys's expensive drinks cart.  

you wiped your tears and everything you felt turned into anger.  

"fuck it."

you went to the cart, grabbed the first bottle that was in your reach, removed the cork and drank, sinking the drink down your throat and your sorrows with it.

- 

three hours later, cassian, nesta, rhys and feyre finally arrived at the house.

amren had departed to her apartment after they left rita's and mor stayed behind saying that her night wasn't over yet.

the two couples had come talking about you on the way. they had waited for you but when you didn't show up, they assumed you were with madja or still at the clinic.

rhys had sent a letter to madja a few minutes ago asking for you and when your aunt said she was looking for you too, they left hoping to find you here.

they just didn't expect the state they were going to find you.

as soon as they passed the threshold of the balcony and into the living room, they saw you.

you were laying on the couch with your legs off of it, an empty bottle was in your hand, and another on the floor by your feet.

"oh my god," the high lady whispered.

cassian moved and kneeled next to you by the couch. his hand made its way to your arm and tried to awake you.

"y/n." he shook you lightly.

after a few seconds, you opened your eyes and were faced with the General looking at you.

"cass," you said with your voice dragging, "you're here." you moved to sit and wrapped him into a hug, one that he didn't hesitate to reciprocate.

"are you alright, sweetheart?" he asked you while caressing your back.

"i am now that you're all here," you released a breath. "my dear friends", you looked at your other three friends who were looking at you with concern. "you're so beautiful. all of you. did you know that?" you giggled.

it was rare for you to drink and when you did, you never got drunk.

nesta sat down next to you and put an arm around your shoulders. you took the opportunity to rest your head on her shoulder, finding comfort in your friend's embrace.

"what happened, y/n?" she asked you.

You started laughing before replying with irony in your voice "what didn't happen?" 

you pushed away from her and stood so you could face all your friends "my patient died. the male I've been in love with for decades won't even look at me and this house that used to be my safe haven, it's now the stage of my pain."

"hh! not to mention that elain is mated but does she care? no! does azriel care? of course not. i've been in love with him for decades. decades! and he doesn't even look at me." you started laughing, "by the cauldron, u'm pathetic."

your family didn't seem surprised by your revelation.

cassian pulled you into a tight hug and rhys and nesta moved to do the same.

if it weren't for this situation everyone would've thought that the world was about to end from seeing rhys and nesta hugging each other.

morrigan arrived in the moment you were in the middle of your friends with tears in your eyes.

"what's going on?" mor whispered to feyre who was still in the same spot since she arrived.

feyre explained everything and by the moment she finished, both females had tears in her eyes at the sight of her friend being hurt.

"what's wrong with me?" you asked them, your voice breaking.

"nothing is wrong with you. nothing." that wasn't your friend speaking — it was your high lord.

feyre and morrigan joined the hug in the moment you said, "i'm never going to be good enough for him. i'll never be her." 

tears rolled down feyre and mor faces, and both females were asking the same question in their minds "how long has she been feeling like this?"

your high lady spoke this time, "y/n, what can we do? what do you need?"

you hugged cassian tighter before locking eyes with nesta "i just need my girls."

nesta nodded her head at you and looked at the blonde female "can you take us?" 

mor didn't hesitate in agreeing. 

anything to make you feel better.

•••

two hours later, you were in the middle of the bed with nesta and gwyn on one side and emerie on the other, all of them with their arms around you.

the three of them had fallen asleep a few minutes ago after one hour of you telling them everything about azriel and a lot of cups of tea and tissues.

you thought they would've been mad at you but they didn't. 

they reassured you several times that it was okay and that you could take all the time in the world until you were ready after you tried to apologize too many times.

now you were staring at the ceiling thinking about your options.

you couldn't live like this anymore, knowing that azriel would never love you back. 

so you were going to do the only thing you could in order to protect what was left of your heart.

there was something about your powers that no one knew. something that you never had shared.

you had a switch.  

one that you could turn on and off whenever and wherever you wanted.  

in the same way that you could feel everything, you could also feel nothing.

the only problem? everything that made you, you, would disappear.

but it was also your solution to your situation.

you closed your eyes and gave a deep breath.

you focused on your breathing for a minute and then. . .

no more emotions.

no more feelings.

no more love.

no more sadness.

no more pain.

no more tears.

you turned it off.

when you opened your eyes again, you were numb.

you didn't feel a single thing. 

good.

a/n: Thank you for reading!

[masterlist]

general taglist: @emryb @fantasyandshit @azrielover @shadowsingercassia @brieflyclassymortal @lilah-asteria @lure-of-writing @pruvii @olive-main @mybestfriendmademe @anuttellaa

the beautiful dividers belong to @cafekitsune

[prythianslibrary]

This is @prythianpages. You can find my writing here. I made this little slide blog for all the fics I read & love so I can go back to them ❤️

Heads up, I do reblog things from other fandoms from time to time. I also tag all my posts so if you're looking for something particular, click on the links below:

A C O T A R

Azriel | fluff | angst | smut | series | personal favs

Cassian | fluff | angst | smut | series | personal favs

Rhysand | fluff | angst | smut | personal favs

Eris | fluff | angst | smut | series| personal favs

Lucien | fluff | angst | smut | personal favs

Tamlin | fluff | smut

Helion | fluff | smut

Tarquin | fluff | smut

O T H E R S E R I E S

Aaron Warner

divider by @tsunami-of-tears

[jiarkives]

julia’s favorites ! (vii)

♡ - fluff ; ♤ - angst ; ☆ - series

criminal minds

♡ can we have one? - spencer reid, wife!reader ft. platonic!aaron hotchner, platonic!jack hotchner

↳ @qlossytbh

♡♤ cryptic - spencer reid

↳ @pathologicalreid

♤♡ it’s not your fault - spencer reid

↳ @dreamsontheirway

♡ in the mirror of your eyes, my love, my life - spencer reid

↳ @cerisereids

♡♤ 24 hours - spencer reid

↳ @radiant-reid

♡ blurb - derek morgan

♡ blurb - aaron hotchner, pregnant!reader

↳ @luveline

♡ sweet and right and merciful - spencer reid

↳ @januaryembrs

~

a court of thorns and roses

☆ just a little bit of your heart - azriel, pregnant!reader

↳ @fieldofdaisiies

☆ not again - azriel (throne of glass crossover!)

↳ @fanwarriorfictions

♡ take it off - azriel ft. platonic!cassian

↳ @florencemtrash

♡♤ shadows entwined - azriel

♡♤ shadows of secrets - azriel, archeron!reader

♤♡ secrets with the shadowsinger - azriel, tamlin’s sister!reader

↳ @small-z24

♡♤ take it slow - azriel, cassian, rhysand (poly!)

♡ late night drive - modern!cassian

↳ @danikamariewrites

♡ finally found you - eris vanserra, stark!reader (marvel crossover!)

↳ @marvelsmylife

♡ head in the clouds - rhysand

↳ @serpentandlily

♤♡ the time traveller’s husband - rhysand

↳ @utterlyotterlyx

♤ we lay here - cassian

↳ @invisible-lint

♡♤ (what if?) all i need is you - azriel

↳ @empiresofstorm

♡ azriel’s girls - azriel

↳ @daycourtofficial

♡♤ long story short - single dad!cassian, best friend!reader

↳ @flickering-chandelier

♤♡ here without you - azriel

↳ @readychilledwine

♡ body count - azriel

↳ @illyrianbitch

♡ scratches - azriel

↳ @padyprongs

♡ i’ve been waiting for you — azriel, seer!reader

♡ i’ve been waiting for you (bonus) — azriel, seer!reader

↳ @prythianpages

~

marauders

♡♤ thank you, mclaggen - james potter

♡ whimsical!reader - james potter, remus lupin, sirius black (poly!)

♡ peace & quiet [& sirius] - regulus black, mute!reader

↳ @ellecdc

♡ blurb - remus lupin

↳ @ahqkas

~

marvel

♡ finally found you - eris vanserra, stark!reader (marvel crossover!)

↳ @marvelsmylife

♤ 1 missed call - tasm!peter parker

↳ @liz-allyn

♤♡ the last time - tasm!peter parker

↳ @wokeupinmars

♤♡ he hates me, doesn’t he? - bucky barnes

↳ @winterarmyy

♡♤ laryngitis - bucky barnes

↳ @skaye44

♡ drunk!reader - bucky barnes

↳ @infictionalwonderland

♤♡ you were my sunshine - bucky barnes

↳ @literaryavenger

~

dc

♤ through the fire - jason todd ft. batmom!reader

↳ @hannibals-favourite-meal

~

jujutsu kaisen

♡♤ college boy!sukuna accidentally knocking you up - modern!sukuna, pregnant!reader

↳ @yuujispinkhair

♕ divider — @bunnysrph