#single parent Rhys

[rhysazriel]

Smoke & Light: Part 3 [Plug!Az]

SUMMARY: A run in with the cops is another reminder of the horrors Azriel faced through his childhood. Maybe one day he'll open up about it, but not today. Today, he's solely focussed on helping you out of a bad trip. (8.2k)

WARNINGS: swearing, reoccurring themes of use of recreational drugs (weed), greening out, teasing, flirting, kissing, dirty talk, use of toys hehe, slapping/spanking, spitting, dom!Az, mentions of Az's abusive childhood.

A/N: firstly, I want to massively apologise for not updating this in sooo long. Life has been busy and I've been reading so much lately that writing slipped my mind. To make up for it, there is some filthy smut in this chapter and I am hoping to be a bit more consistent with the next updates. Thank you for being so patient and I hope you enjoy!!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

When Azriel was a young boy, he dreamt of becoming a guitarist. It didn’t matter to him then if he was famous or not. Just so long as he was good enough to be able to replicate famous rifts with his own spin, and create his own music, too. 

For his fifth birthday, his mother bought him a children’s guitar, complete with the plastic pics and a leather strap with his initials etched into the fine fabric. He knew, even at that age, that the gift had cost his mother a small fortune. But she didn’t care how much it set her back. The look of pure shock and excitement on her boy's face was worth every single penny she spent. 

He could still remember the untold amounts of sleep he would forfeit to learn a new chord or finally string more than three together at once. By seven years old, he could recreate the first half of Simple Man by Lynyrd Skynyrd—albeit choppy and slightly out of time—and memorise the chords by heart. 

His half-brothers had never liked that about Azriel. His talent and passion for music and the guitar. Even at the ages of five and four, they did not like Azriel. More often than not, they’d plant broken vases and stained cushions for their parents to find, and blame them on Azriel. They knew their father would take away his guitar for a few days to a week as punishment. 

But even then, a week wasn’t long enough. Their hatred for Azriel stemmed long before his love for guitar had grown. From the moment his half-brothers learned how to talk, Az was on the daggered end of their spiteful tongue and manipulative masterminds. As young as he was, Azriel wasn’t blind to the cause of it. He wasn’t blind to his step-father’s hatred for him, that he then instilled in his own blood sons. 

Being what they called a ‘blood traitor’ would always be their main justification for what they did. Azriel had never admitted to anyone the second reason his brothers set his hands alight. But the other thought behind it—the more vicious and calculated thought—was to burn not just his hands, but his dreams, too. 

For months after the incident, Azriel’s hands remained bandaged. He could hardly use them for everyday tasks like dressing and washing and eating. And when they had finally healed enough for the bandages to be permanently removed, he couldn’t play his beloved guitar. 

The strings were too harsh on his sensitive skin. It hurt so much just pressing down on the chords on the neck, let alone pinching the pic for longer than thirty seconds at a time. Azriel had to learn how to play all over again, covered in blisters and burnt flesh. And then his marred skin began to harden and callous and every strum was more painful than before. 

He often wondered if this would still be his life path had the burning never happened. If he would have still met Rhys and Cass, if he would still be selling drugs. He knew he wouldn’t be this well-off financially, but at what cost? What did all of this money mean when it was just him? When he wouldn’t be able to fulfil his biggest dream in life? 

He mostly thought about it all in times like this, when he was spontaneously pulled over by the cops for what they called a “random stop and search”, though they had never given a plausible cause for it. And today would be no different. 

“You stalking me again, Reynolds?” Az asked in a rugged tone as he exhaled the smoke from his cigarette. 

Officer Reynolds, one of the few officers that continuously pulled Az over and searched his vehicle, leaned against the open window with his arms crossed. His blue eyes gleamed with hope of catching something on him this time, though Az knew Reynolds would walk away with another few grey hairs to add to his collection. 

Reynolds was a strange looking man. Not in his features, but in the glint of his eyes and the disturbing tug of his lips whenever he offered a grim smile. He radiated nothing but offsetting energy, one that stunk of noncy behaviour and less than ethical tendencies. 

His iced eyes darted quickly across Azriel’s lap and the passenger's seat, coming up short and settling his gaze on the man again. 

“Random stop and search, nothing personal.” He grinned that awful smile but Azriel paid no mind to it. “Step out of the car, licence and registration.” Azriel was already reaching into the glovebox for his paperwork before Reynolds could even speak. 

He handed them over, opening the door as the officer stepped away, and stood with his hands on the hood of his Mustang. Azriel knew the drill. He’d been patted down and had his car searched more times than he could count in the past six months alone. 

And each and every time, Reynolds always came up short. 

“Got any weapons in the vehicle?” 

Azriel rolled his eyes, looking over his shoulder as Reynolds began to pat down his stomach and thighs. “Do I look like the type that needs a weapon?” 

A dry chuckle slipped from the officers lips as he patted harder down Azriel’s calves and ankles before turning to his full—albeit short—height. “What about narcotics? Any drugs that I should be aware of?” 

Az grunted with another roll of his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Officer Reynolds didn’t offer a response. Instead, he bent his body into the driver's side of the Mustang and began stifling through every nook and cranny that his swollen hands could reach. 

Azriel’s foot tapped impatiently as he waited and waited for the search to end. They wouldn’t find a damn thing, especially because of the new addition Azriel had recently added to his modded car. 

But that knowledge of the secret compartment didn’t stop his muscles from tensing just slightly when Reynolds wrapped his puffed fingers around the foot mat and peeled it up. 

Azriel’s stash was well hidden; wrapped and locked in an extended box beneath his footwell that managed to also keep the scent out. He knew it was a matter of time before they started bringing a K9 with them on their searches, so Azriel had to be prepared for that well in advance. 

Especially with how strong the new strain smelt. 

With a huff, Reynolds haphazardly threw the foot mat back down and struggled to clamber out of the car. And just like Azriel suspected, he came up short. 

Reynolds handed him back his paperwork and rested his hands back on his belt, fingers itching for his baton to give Az a taste of the frustration he caused him. Azriel didn’t so much as bat an eye at it. He knew Reynolds wouldn’t touch him. Not if he wanted to keep both his stumpy legs in use. 

“You know, this is getting pretty old. How do I go about filing a harassment charge?” 

Reynolds scoffed. “Good luck with that.”

//

If there was one thing Az liked about having his brothers home, it was the lack of talking his mind did. There was no silence for his brain and thoughts to gang up on him, to have him question every thought and decision he’d ever made. 

Music and guitar usually helped to quiet those demons—the shadows that he had no control over—but the frustration from his earlier encounter with Reynolds had the desire for playing at the bottom of his list. 

Instead, he settled for Nesta’s demand to braid her hair. She knew him better than she let the others know. Since they first met years ago, he became the brother she never had, that she never knew she needed. She was quick to learn his quirks and mannerisms; what they meant and how he felt. 

And he learnt the same for her. 

“You’re doing it too loose,” Nesta huffed, picking at her nails from her seat on the carpet between Azriel’s parted thighs. He huffed, flexing his fingers and undoing the braid. 

“Last time you told me it was too tight and it gave you a migraine,” he retorted back with an exasperated huff.

They argued like real siblings, too. 

“Just do it a little looser than last time.”

Azriel split her hair into three sections once more and slowly started to braid, overlapping the sections and tugging a bit tighter than his previous attempt. Nesta hummed in approval.

They didn’t pay much mind to the others. Rhys and Feyre were cuddled on the loveseat opposite them, Cassian on their left with a bulky pair of headphones on his head as he smashed the buttons of the gaming remote beneath his fingers. 

He was growing frustrated that he was losing, but it didn’t help that his hands were so massive that the pad of his thumb was big enough to press all the buttons at once. 

“Hey, Az… there’s this girl I know…” Azriel’s grunt cut Feyre off before she could say anything else. He tied Nesta’s braid and tapped her shoulders, signally he was done. 

“Not this again, Fey,” he groaned. 

A sheepish smile sat on her full lips, a gentle tint of pink blushing the apples of her cheeks. “I really think you guys would get along, though. She’s super laid back and so gorgeous.” 

Nesta moved from between Az’s thighs on the ground and clambered back onto the sofa, reaching for her tumbler of gin and tonic. Azriel was used to this, to Feyre trying to set him up. Each time, he’d always shut her advances down, but that never stopped her.

Feyre considered it a challenge, and she wouldn’t stop until Azriel agreed to go on a date. Just once, and she’d back off. She was fairly confident that one date would be all it would take for Azriel to fall for her mysterious friend. 

“I don’t need to be set up,” he spoke, finality in his tone. 

Rhys cocked a brow at how quickly Az dismissed his girlfriend but said nothing. He knew Feyre could get a bit too much with it sometimes, but Rhys himself still had hopes that maybe one day, Az would bite the bullet and just agree. 

But Azriel had no plans to do that. He didn't want to be set up on a blind date, and he most certainly did not need nor want his friends involving themselves in his love life—or lack thereof. It wasn’t that he struggled with girls, Mother, no. Not once in his life did Azriel ever have a shortage of pussy.

If he wanted it, he would get it. On his own. Without his brother's girlfriend’s self-involvement. 

His phone chimed from his back pocket, and not bothering another glance at Feyre, Azriel retrieved it to read over the message. 

You: you weren’t kidding. This shit is strongggg x

His heart rate quickened as he read the text again and again. Azriel hadn’t heard from for three days—since that kiss—and now he was reminiscing on the taste of your mouth on his. 

Azriel: I did warn you

You: maybe next time you could write a reminder on my baggie?

A grin stretched across the expanse of his lips, eyes glittering at how quickly you responded. The act didn’t go unmissed by Nesta, who grinned against her staw and wiggled her toes against the side of Azriel’s thigh. She knew that face—that look. 

“Azzy doesn’t want to get set up because he already has a crush on someone.” 

All eyes snapped to Azriel and Nesta at her words, eyes so wide they almost bulged from their heads. They all knew Az was a ladies man, that although he kept his sex life private, he was well endowed in that aspect. But what they had never really seen was Azriel with a crush. 

With someone who was more than a booty call or a fling.

Az narrowed his eyes at Nesta, a hard expression removing his previous smile. The phone in his hand began to vibrate and a quick glance at it had your number filling the screen through an incoming call. 

His heart stammered. 

“I don’t have a crush. It’s just a client.” He stood from the couch, his scarred thumb hovering over the answer button. 

Nesta grinned maniacally, taking another sip of her gin. “A lady client?” Azriel’s response was a pillow launched at Nesta’s face before leaving his family and shutting himself away in his bedroom. 

Az took a deep breath then swiped his screen to accept the call. “Hey,” he greeted, bringing the phone to his ear. “You doing okay?” 

There was a pregnant pause for a moment before your airy laugh breathed down the line and Azriel’s throat began to close up at the sound. “I think I’ve greened out a little,” you giggled, almost painfully. “Everything is spinning and heavy and when I close my eyes, I get seasick… is that normal?” 

Az pursed his lips, biting back his own smile. The fact that you’d managed to text full sentences and then call him suggested you hadn’t greened out too badly. And by the light self-deprecating laugh at your own situation, he knew you weren’t falling in too deep of a hole. 

“It should pass soon, it shouldn't get worse than how you feel now. Where are you?” 

“I’m at home so I’m okay. I just didn’t know what was the best thing to help.” 

Azriel shouldn’t have let your words affect him the way they did. They shouldn’t have warmed his heart and sent it soaring in his chest. But in your slightly vulnerable predicament, out of everyone that smoked in your life and would understand, it was him that you called for advice. 

Not your friends, not your ex. Him. 

“Honestly? Food and water.”

Another pause of silence had Azriel thinking a bit too much again. If you were calling him for advice, this was likely your first time greening out, and he wondered if you’d even be able to handle making yourself food alone. 

After a moment of consideration, he spoke again. “Want me to stop by?” 

Azriel could hear your soft breath through the call. “Isn’t that crossing a line?” you asked in a gentle voice. 

He frowned, brows pinched. “What line?” 

“I’m your client, you’re my plug,” you reminded him, and something about it sent a sour taste to the back of his throat. 

“You’re my friend,” he offered. 

He wondered if you considered that or not, and by the pause of silence once more, he got his answer. 

“I am?” The soft tone of your question hurt him more than it should’ve. It shouldn’t have hurt him at all. 

“Am I not yours?” 

You were considering it, though. In your book, he was definitely your friend. He’d comforted you just a few nights ago after the fiasco with your sister's secret wedding, had bought you food and then… He’d kissed you. Or had you kissed him? 

You supposed he was your friend, but you didn’t think you meant anything more to him than being just another client. Clearly, you were wrong. 

“Yeah… I guess you are.” 

The corners of Azriel's lips tugged upward slightly. “Great, so send me your address and I’ll stop by with some food.”

Perhaps you should’ve told him no, that it truly wasn’t necessary and you could just pick at a couple of leftover cookies you’d baked yesterday. But you didn’t. You wanted to see him again, wondered so desperately if that kiss had meant anything at all… if it would happen again. 

“I have a spare set of keys in a security lock outside. The code is 4369, let yourself in.” 

// 

You didn’t know how much time you had to try and sort yourself out before Azriel would arrive. But as hard as you tried, every time you raised your head you were met with an onslaught of nausea and dizziness. 

You spent around five minutes attempting to regulate your breathing to rid those feelings, but your body remained stomach down on the couch with your face squished against a pillow. 

If you could stomach the feeling of your eyes being closed for longer than five seconds at a time, you probably could’ve fallen asleep. But alas, the sound of a key entering the lock of your front door had your eyes widening a little further and heart stammering against your ribs. 

“Knock, knock.” Azriel’s voice dripped with honey as he spoke into the expanse of your open plan living-kitchen area. 

Though you couldn’t see him from your position, you could hear the faint rusting of a takeout bag in his hand as he closed the door quietly and kicked off his shoes at the door. 

You didn’t need to call out to him for Az to see you. Sprawled on the sofa, just off to his left, he grinned comically, ignoring the unfamiliar swell in his chest. His feet padded closer to the couch, settling the food on the coffee table and the smell of hot, fried chicken wafted through your senses. 

Azriel helping you sit up and handing you the same meal you ordered the last time you saw one another was a bit of a blur. But the second the food hit your tongue and your tastebuds exploded in delight, the nausea slowly dwindled from your senses. 

“You are my saviour,” you moaned around the food, eyes fluttering closed and none the wiser to Azriel’s growing blush. 

Sat in comfortable silence, Azriel didn’t want you to focus on anything other than feeling yourself again. Within a few minutes, you’d both finished your food and your face didn’t seem so sunken and pasty. 

Now, you looked wonderfully blitzed, skin a little brighter than before and a sparkling sheen to your bloodshot eyes. Yeah, you were out of the woods, your body warm and relaxed. 

“You feeling okay?” he finally managed to ask, shoving the last fry between his lips as you nodded at his question. 

“I feel perfectly baked now.” 

A laugh spluttered from his lips at your words as he wiped his scarred hands clean on a paper napkin. For the first time in the past twenty minutes, Az allowed his eyes to gaze across the expanse of your rather cosy living room. 

Soft, golden lighting that warmed the room, plants of varying shapes and colours tucked into every corner and crevice available. Mismatched furniture and draping vines. 

It was cute, all of it. Very you. The wall facing the couch was hidden beneath tall bookcases that were filled to the brim with every type of book he could imagine. Even with squinted eyes, he could make out a few familiar authors amongst your shelves. 

“Have you read all of those?” He threw his gaze to you, wonder and slight adoration in his eyes, though you were sure you imagined the latter. 

“Mhm,” you hummed around your drink. “Some more times than I can remember.” 

You watched him stand from the couch, his tall frame approaching your collection. He was dressed in black again – his simple jeans and sweater combo – and his hair was perfectly tousled and swept down his forehead. 

Eyes on him, his finger traced the spines of your beloved possessions, settling on one in particular that made your breath still in your chest. Azriel gently pulled it off the shelf, hazel eyes examining the near-pristine cover. 

“Careful,” your soft voice warned him. “It’s worth three grand.” 

Azriel’s eyes almost bulged from his head as he turned to you with the most bewildered expression you’d ever seen. It took every ounce of control not to burst into laughter. 

“What?”

“It’s 134 years old. I restored it the best I could. You should’ve seen it when I found it.” 

Azriel’s brows pulled into a confused frown. “Restored it?” 

“Yeah, that’s what I do for work.” 

When his frown didn’t ease, you cleared your throat to continue. “I work between an auction and a museum in the city. I find the old books and restore them, then sell them through the auction, or they go to the museum.” 

His once furrowed brows raised, his eyes darting back to the book in his hand as if he was inspecting the eighth wonder of the world. Azriel finally turned back to you with a smile that borderlined a smirk. 

“That’s actually pretty cool.” 

A satisfied yet sheepish smile found its way to your lips, cheeks warming under the intensity of his gaze. Azriel slid the book back onto the shelf and continued his observations. 

If you were being honest, it was a little too intimate for your liking. No one in your life had ever taken such interest in your books, not your friends or past lovers. It wasn’t like your love for books was much of a secret, but no one had taken the time to get to know them. 

To know your books was to know you. 

You shouldn’t have been surprised that Azriel was the person to do so. In the short time you’d known him, you realised he was full of surprises.

“What about you?” Your voice greeted his ears softly as you cleaned up the trash from your food. Azriel casted barely a look over his shoulder, eyes caught on your limited edition fantasy book set. A part of you begged to take Azriel’s attention off them. “What do you do for work?” 

That seemed to earn his full attention, causing him to turn to face you fully. With an amused smirk, he followed you a few feet into the open kitchen. “You know what I do for work.” 

Ah. 

“You don’t have anything…legal…to keep on the books?” 

He tried to hide his amusement at your words, but to no avail. Azriel’s smirk only grew and he found himself wondering if his answer might make you think differently of him. 

“If you wanna talk…legalities…then I’m an investor in the stock market.” 

It was your turn to hold the raised eyebrows – a look that Azriel was quick to mirror. “What?” He asked. “You don’t think I could work in stocks?” 

“Do you?” You pressed. 

Azriel’s grin widened slightly. “I do. And I’ll have you know that I’m very good at it.” 

You didn’t want nor need to know any more. You weren’t about to outright ask how much money he had, and if he told you out of his own desire, you were certain it would only make you feel like pure shit. 

Your apartment and belongings weren’t much but they were yours. Everything you had, you worked for. You could do without knowing how many thousands he had sitting pretty in his bank. 

Azriel noticed that distant look in your eyes and took a seat at your island. The last thing he wanted was to make you feel uncomfortable. And if he was being perfectly honest, it was appallingly refreshing to speak with a woman about his side-hustle without them swooning or prying for more details. 

And it appeared that it was only now that either of you were realising how different things were the last time you saw one another. When your lips pressed against his and he kissed you back with just as much want and vigour. 

As if remembering that searing moment, your face and chest began to warm. You were quick to turn away from him, needing a moment to compose yourself and the tight feeling in the pit of your stomach. 

You tried desperately to ignore the ache between your thighs at the memory, instead opting to focus your attention on the half empty box of cookies on the counter. Flipping the lid, you offered one to Azriel who took it without much prompting. 

“Tell me if I’m crossing a line, but if you make enough money investing in stocks, why do you still deal?” 

Azriel’s eyes fluttered closed as he took a bite out of the chocolate chip cookie, and you found your eyes zeroed in on the way his plump lips moved and his broad shoulders slacked slightly. 

His eyes opened to focus on yours. “These are incredible.” You offered a smile, waiting. “Dealing is what got me the money to be able to invest. Don’t get me wrong, I’m good at it, but I lost a lot to get where I am. Dealing is steady income for now. It’s not something I plan to do forever.”

You didn’t probe any further, satisfied with the answer he provided and not wanting to push your luck. Your eyes were drawn to his mouth again, flashes of memories littering your mind as your body warmed once more. 

Clearing your throat, you desperately tried to blink away the haziness he seemed to make you feel. 

“You can smoke out on the balcony, if you want.” 

Azriel finished the last of his cookie and leaned forward on the counter. “I didn’t bring anything.” 

Your head tilted slightly to the half-smoked joint on your counter, stubbed out and back in your open tin. “Smoke the rest of that. It’s too strong for me and I know your tolerance is higher than mine.”

Azriel laughed; hearty and rich and deep. It tickled up your spine and reached around your neck and jaw to tug the corners of your lips into a smile. The effect he had on you was growing to be a slight problem. 

“You wanna come? Fresh air will help.” 

He watched you pinch the joint and lighter from your tin and lead him through to your bedroom. It was decorated similarly to the rest of your apartment–twinkling fairy lights and books and plants–and out on the small balcony, you’d managed to cram a rattan loveseat and table with vines wrapped around the short iron guard rail. 

“Here.” You handed him the joint and lighter. “I’ll be back out, I’m just going to change.” 

Azriel sparked up the joint between his lips, taking a long drag as you returned to your room. The smoke hit the back of his throat sharply, almost knocking him sideways. Even he hadn’t smoked a joint this packed and strong in a while. It was no wonder you’d had a wobble with it. 

He took a seat on the rattan furniture, admiring the little view your balcony offered. The summer air kissed his skin, even as late as the evening was. The warmth of it had him shrugging off his sweater and throwing it over the table, taking another deep pull. 

If Azriel was honest, he was quite thankful for the moments reprieve from your presence. He needed to take a second to calm himself down. Az couldn’t remember the last time he partook in something like this with someone who wasn’t his brothers or their girls. 

This was more of a common thing with Nesta, smoking and eating together. Never Feyre, she always preferred a glass of wine, and occasionally Mor would smoke with him when she was passing through town. Never a random girl, never a new friend. 

But that moment's reprieve was ripped away far too quickly, because you were sauntering back onto the balcony and stealing the breath right from Azriel’s smoked lungs. 

He was fucked. Comepletly and utterly fucked. He’d never seen you look so relaxed, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and a pair of mismatched socks. Your hair was thrown up lazily and stray pieces fell out to frame your face. 

Your legs, however, he couldn’t stop gawking. Soft skin and a whole lot of thigh. Azriel forced his gaze to your face again as you took a seat beside him on the loveseat, leaning your back on the armrest and bringing your knees up to your chest. 

Mother above, he could feel his cock begin to strain in his pants, his eyes begging to sweep your body once more to see what lay between your slightly parted legs. From his peripheral vision, he could see you cross your ankles, effectively shielding yourself.

But Azriel was good at reading people, and by the slight flush of your cheeks and the way your eyes grew more hooded by the second, he was more than certain you knew what you were doing and the affects your actions had on him. 

He took another pull of the joint. “You weren’t kidding,” he mumbled, “this shit is strong.” A bubbly laugh fell from your lips at the way his eyes squinted when the drug settled into his lungs. 

“I did warn you.” 

Azriel offered it to you, watching your inner turmoil as you weighed out your options until pinching it from his fingers. “One pull will be enough to keep me buzzed for the night.” 

He watched your lips thin as they clamped down on the roach. He watched your chest rise as your lungs filled with the thick tar until you pulled the joint from your lips and exhaled slowly. You handed it back to him, cutting yourself off completely for the night. 

Azriel took it between two pinched fingers, keeping his eyes on your slightly flushed face as he took another few drags before stuffing the cherry out in the ashtray. His gaze found purchase on your lips again as he mirrored your position on the loveseat, though Az didn’t tuck his knees to his chest. 

“Are we gonna talk about it?” He asked. 

You blinked at him, head tilted slightly to the left. “Talk about what?”

The way his taunting smirk grew made you shift uncomfortably. You had an inkling as to what he meant, but you hoped if you played dumb, he would drop it. Clearly not. 

“About the last time we saw each other.”

Yup. There it is. 

That familiar warmth spread across your face and chest again in waves of anxiety and embarrassment. You couldn’t handle this type of conversation right now. You were mortified enough as it was, you didn’t need to reminisce about your stupid mistake, nor the way he kissed you back as though his life depended on it. 

You let out a long sigh. “I was kind of hoping you’d forgotten about it.” 

Azriel quirked a brow. “Forget about it?” he asked. “You expected me to forget a kiss like that?” 

It felt like all the air had been completely sucked from your lungs. You could hardly breathe, struggling to string a coherent reply together. Azriel continued to smirk at you, bathing in the way he clearly made you feel. Like he was getting off on your flustered state. 

The state he put you in. 

“It’s been replaying in my head for days.” Azriel’s admission sent your mind into a frenzy. You had no idea what to do with that information or how it was supposed to make you feel. 

What you did know, was that familiar burning in the pit of your stomach, that daunting ache between your clenched thighs. And the way Azriel's eyes darkened and slowly traced the silhouette of your figure, you got the hint he felt the same way, too. 

“Yeah?” Your words came out as barely a whisper, lashes fluttering as the weed you’d just smoked began to settle into your bloodstream. 

Azriel inched a hand tentatively toward your ankle, the tips of his scarred fingers brushing against your cotton socks. The touch had your body keening for more, your legs twitching as he slowly wrapped a large hand around your lower leg. 

“Yeah,” he replied, almost breathless. 

He was testing the waters, desperate to get a feeler as to what you wanted from this interaction. Azriel watched you closely, cataloguing every response your body gave his touch. How goosebumps broke across the silky skin of your legs, how your cheeks flushed slightly and lashes fluttered at him. 

“Is that all you’ve been thinking about?” Your husky voice finally broke through the silence. Az raised a brow at your boldness. “Or do you let your mind wander to what else could’ve happened?” 

If it weren’t for the stifling warmth in the air, Azriel was sure he would’ve come in his pants from your words alone. Because he knew that meant you’d been letting your mind wander to something more. 

You allowed him to gently tug your leg down, resting the back of your calf across his thigh. Your covered cunt was surely exposed, but Az didn’t look. Not yet. A sneaky peek wouldn’t be enough to satiate the appetite he had grown for you. 

He needed to bathe and bask and bury himself in your scent. Mould his body to body, meld his soul to your soul. Even then, he would never be able to feel you as closely as he craved. 

“You want me to tell you what places my mind has wandered to?” His eyes were glued to your mouth, watching as your tongue slid out to wet your lips before tugging the bottom one between your teeth. 

It was with a surge of complete arousal and haziness that had you uttering, “I want you to show me.” 

Azriel’s lips were on yours not a moment later when he surged forward to trap your small frame beneath his large one on the loveseat. You could barely make sense of where you ended and Azriel began. 

His scarred hands cupped your face, his tongue massaging hotly against your own. Your legs had wrapped around his waist, ankles locked across his back to keep him close to you. 

It was unlike any kiss you’d experienced before. Passion and need and desire. Pure want and carnage. Like nothing could ever stop him from tasting you again. Like he was savouring every single piece of you. 

“If you want me to show you…” he muttered against your lips, “I suggest you let me take you inside.” 

You pulled away just enough for your noses to bump and make out a blurry picture of him before you. Swollen lips, mussed up hair that you hadn’t realised you’d been running your fingers through. 

“Worried someone might see?” You panted in a teasing tone. 

His eyes shadowed impossibly darker. “I don’t like to share.” 

Squirming beneath his thick body, your fingernails scraped across his broad shoulders, scratching at the cotton of his t-shirt. “It’s not sharing if they’re just watching.” 

Azriel nipped your bottom lip. “Well, I’m a greedy man, and I don’t want anyone else watching you come on my cock but me.”

A breathless moan tumbled off your tongue like hot honey, your eyes fluttering closed at the words he spoke. You hoped this was just the tip of the iceberg with him. Prayed that he was as filthy as he was gorgeous. 

Without another second to get lost in your thoughts, Azriel was gripping your hips, lifting you as he stood. Your legs around his waist tightened as your arms snaked to circle his neck. 

Even in the dark, he moved swiftly, settling your body onto your mattress without missing a beat. He crawled back between your thighs, the moonlight kissing his tanned skin through the cracks of your window. 

His lips were on yours again, searing and eager. Azriel poured every ounce of need and desire into it, massaging your tongue and licking against the roof of your mouth. He tasted like the cookies you’d baked, a hint of smoke and a tang of bud. 

It was intoxicating. He was intoxicating. 

Your fingers tugged at the curled tendrils on the nape of his neck, ushering him impossibly closer. His body flattened atop yours, the grooves of his abs pressing deliciously against your stomach and chest. 

Gods, he was solid. Built like a fucking Greek God and your fingers itched to trace the delicate intricacies of his golden skin. 

“Azriel,” you panted against his lips. “If you don’t touch me right now I’m going to burst into flames.” 

A dry chuckle left his throat as he dragged his mouth across your jaw and down to your neck; kissing and licking and sucking. He nipped at a sensitive spot, begrudgingly tugging himself off your frame. 

Sitting on his knees between your open thighs, he was a fucking sight. His chest heaved as he took a breath, his eyes dark and hair an unruly mess. Excitement was getting the better of you. So much so that when his scarred fingers looped in the neck of his shirt and tugged it up, you all but foamed at the fucking mouth. 

An unexplainable sound squeaked from the back of your throat. He was fucking beautiful. His skin was flawless, abdomen toned with divots of muscle, and dark ink of swirls that adored his chest. 

You could physically feel your arousal seep from your cunt, could feel your clit throb in desperate need for him. You could hardly breathe, your lungs almost crushed by his sheer beauty. 

You could stare at him forever. 

“Are you going to be good for me?” His rugged voice broke you from your trance. You blinked at him. Once, twice. 

Gone was the flirtatious Azriel who once made you blush from teasing. Gone was the light warmth in his smile and cheeky glimmer in his eyes. 

The Azriel before you was cold now. Calculated. He oozed power and dominance and your pussy clenched in anticipation of the pleasure he might inflict on you. 

The Azriel before you held all the control. And you’d gladly surrender whatever you had left to offer. 

“Yes,” you whimpered in response. 

He didn’t reply. Not with words. Azriel’s large palms flattened on your inner thighs as he pried your legs further apart. The calluses of his marred fingers scratched at your silky skin as they inched closer and closer to your core. 

His fingertips grazed at the soaked fabric of your panties. “Look at you, pretty girl.” 

Your lashes fluttered closed, lips parted open, head rolled back. Gods, you wanted his voice on a loop in your brain for the rest of eternity. If he was going to continue talking, you wouldn’t last long. 

“Look at your dripping little cunt.”

You couldn’t hold in the whimper, nor the way you clenched on nothing—so desperate to be filled by him. 

“I’m going to take my time with you.” You knew it wasn’t a threat, but Christ did it sound like one. You were far too pent up to be touched in any way that wasn’t with a cock buried deep inside you. 

Foreplay could come next time, you’d let him spend hours devouring you if that was what he truly wanted. Not now, not when you were borderline going to sob. 

“Fuck me, Az.”

He stilled, eyes on you as his hands halted on your inner thighs. “Please,” you whimpered, “I need you to fuck me. You can do what you want to me next time.” 

Azriel cocked a brow, the familiar hint of him returning to his face for a brief moment. “You promise?” 

Neither of you allowed yourselves longer than a few brief moments to bask in the vow of a next time. Not when he ghosted his fingers across your cunt and you nodded your head quickly, desperately. 

“There’s condoms in the drawer.” Your words came out a breathless pant as Azriel’s toned body leaned over yours. He rifled through your nightstand, blindly reaching for a foil packet when his fingers grazed against something else. Something silicone.

His eyes found yours in the night, a mischievous glint that darkened his honeyed hazel iris’. Your lips parted. “What?” 

From your angle, you couldn’t see what he held in his hands. Not until Azriel leaned back on his knees between your parted thighs, and the moonlight bounced off the hot pink toy in his palm. 

Oh, fuck. 

Without breaking your gaze, Az gently stroked the tip of the six inch object against your panty-covered cunt. You were soaking through the fabric, your thighs trembling on either side of his legs. 

There was no way this was happening. No way he was going to–

“I think I wanna fuck you with this instead.” 

You couldn’t argue with him, couldn’t even muster a single word to leave your lips. No one had used a sex toy on you before, much less a fucking dildo. And yet here Azriel was, eager to please you in the dirtiest ways possible. Even if it denied him his own pleasure. 

“Az—“ 

He held his free hand in the air. 

“Let’s call it a compromise.” His tone suggested there was no room for argument. You clamped your lips shut and continued to take deep, ragged breaths through your nose. 

“If you’re a good girl with this toy, I’ll reward you with my cock later.” 

Later. As in, he wasn’t planning on making you come just once…

You nodded once more, vigorously. 

If it was down to Azriel he would’ve tied you up and taken his time with you anyway. He would’ve told you not to be a spoiled brat and to take whatever he gave you like a good girl. 

But he couldn’t do that, not yet. 

He couldn’t deprive you of the one thing you desperately wanted. But he could take away the thing to cause the most pleasure. Replace his cock with a toy. Watch you come all over it. And then ruin you until you creamed all over him and sobbed from overstimulating. 

Azriel’s cock leapt in the tight confinements of his pants. He was desperate to free himself, touch himself. Have you touch him. He’d imagined the feeling of your lips around his dick for days, let his mind wander to what you’d look like on your knees for him. 

He needed to be patient, he’d be able to stuff your throat full soon enough. He was sure of it. Then he’d let you sit on his tongue and suffocate him until you were both seeing stars. 

“Please, baby.” 

Your pleading voice broke him from his trance and Azriel wrapped two fingers around your panties and pulled them to the side, baring yourself to him. 

And what a sight you were. 

Swollen and soaked. Your pussy glistened under the moonlight, your hips rolling lazily as if trying to chase the touches he wouldn’t grant you. Az wanted nothing more than to bury his face in your warmth and stay there all fucking night. 

But he didn’t touch you, at least not with his own body and skin. Azriel motioned the toy to your heat, teasingly sliding through your slick folds to collect your arousal. You jolted at the sensation, shuddering beneath his touch. 

Azriel leaned over your body, one arm supporting his weight beside your head, the other coaxing the toy through your head, nudging the head against your pulsing clit. 

“You’re gonna keep your eyes on me, and you’re gonna imagine it’s my cock fucking your tight little pussy.” Your chest arched into his, nipples pearled beneath the thin fabric of your t-shirt. 

“Do you understand?” There he was again, that dominant and overpowering Azriel you saw just moments ago. 

You nodded, lips blubbering slightly. “Yes.” 

He cooed you softly, his head dipping down enough to brush his nose against yours. Azriel lined the dildo to your entrance, teasing your hole deliciously before gently pushing through your tightness. 

Your lips parted, brows knit as your body grew taut. His honey gaze dripped into yours, melding you to him as Azriel rolled his hips to mirror what he would do if he was the one fucking you. 

“Such a good girl, taking that cock.” 

Your eyes fluttered closed at his praise, head rolling back into the pillow until his weight shifted above you and a briefly sharp sting met the side of your cheek. Your eyes flew open again, wide and confused. 

Azriel looked down at you, his hand now gripping either side of your cheeks, his gaze much darker than before. 

“I told you to keep your pretty eyes on me.” And then he sheathed the toy deep in your cunt. 

A shriek of pleasure tore through your throat, hands reaching for the warm skin of Azriel’s shoulders. Your nails dragged across the muscles that rippled beneath your touch, scratching at the surface with a cry. 

“Fuck!” 

Azriel began with slow thrusts, allowing you a few brief moments to accumulate to the intrusion. Not much time, but enough. Because after the fourth thrust, he picked up the pace. 

The noises were obscene, your high pitched cries and moans and the squelching of the toy that fucked your sopping cunt. 

Everything was too intense to comprehend. The fullness you felt, the lack of control you possessed. And the way his eyes bore into yours, as though he was claiming your soul to melt with his own. He was hauntingly beautiful, even in his dark demeanour. 

In your hazy state, it looked like even the shadows curled around his figure. As though he was their master, too. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, baby,” he praised. “Taking that cock like a good little girl.” 

His voice dripped with sex and arousal, and when he shifted his hips once more, you could feel the thick and solid bulge of his length in his trousers. You wanted nothing more than to feel it, taste it. 

You clamped tightly around the toy, dragging scratches and marks down Azriel’s golden skin. “Please let me come.” You had never begged to come before, had never even asked. But you felt no shame in pleading to the God above you for your release. 

You’d give him anything he wanted. 

Azriel’s own breath grew shaky, unready. “Open your mouth,” he commanded. You listened and complied immediately, eager to please him. 

He leaned closer, pinching your face harder before spitting into your mouth, onto your awaiting tongue. Then he was kissing you, biting you, claiming you. 

Your entire body felt like it burst into flames, hot fire licking at you from the inside out. You couldn’t breathe. Your entire being completely locked and consumed as you came around the toy with a frantic sob of his name. 

Azriel couldn’t cope, couldn’t handle the sound of his name on your lips as you came around something that wasn’t him. Every ounce of self control was crumbling down at the sight of you—of your eyes still fixed on his, your jaw slack and your supple body arching to meet his. 

He’d never seen anything so fucking sinful yet heavenly at the same time. Never felt so connected to someone without even touching them. He couldn’t take it, needed to touch you, feel you, taste you. 

Az pulled the toy from your pussy, dragging it up between your bodies as you desperately attempted to catch your breath. He held it to your mouth, and without command, your tongue swirled around the length of it, tasting your own release with your eyes still boring into his soul. 

And now he had an even more vivid image of what you’d look like sucking his cock. 

Before Azriel could get a taste for himself, that cursed blaring of his phone broke through the heaving silence. He didn’t hear it at first, not until it stole your attention from him. 

“You’re phone,” you muttered breathlessly, barely coherent. 

Azriel dropped the toy to the side of the bed, his hands gentle on your body and face now. “Ignore it,” he breathed softly. 

His lips met yours in a taunting kiss, one so stark opposite to the way he’d treated you just moments ago. The versatility of this man was going to give you whiplash. 

But the phone blared again. And again. And suddenly, neither of you could ignore it anymore. His forehead rested against yours, a frustrated sigh tumbling off his lips. 

“You should go.”

He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to. 

“You don’t wanna come with me? Do some drop-offs?” He was tempting you, desperately wanting to spend more time in your presence, especially if it potentially ended like this again. 

You hummed, considering it. But your body was spent and the idea of being in his car and not being able to have your hands all over him at any moment you pleased sounded like torture. 

“Next time?” You posed it as a question, though the hope in Azriel’s eyes proved that he was more than happy to not only fuck you again, but to spend time with you, too. 

“Yeah?”

You nodded. “Mhm.”

He nosed at your cheek, planting a teasing open-mouthed kiss to your jaw, nosing back up to your ear. “You look fucking breathtaking when you come.” 

Your eyes fluttered closed when he pulled away, your thighs trembling as he knelt and then clambered off your bed. Azriel watched your spent body for a moment, the way your thighs rubbed together as you squirmed, no doubt still horny. 

It pained him to leave you like that, wanting more. But if he didn’t leave now, he likely never would. And that wasn’t something he could afford to do right now. 

So without another word, he bent down to press a kiss to your mouth, and then he left—still high on both the drugs and you. 

Thank you for reading and I apologise again for such a massively long wait for this chapter!!

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[captainjimothycarter]

Okay but was no one going to tell me rhys darby was in single parents as the drama teacher?

[cressidagrey]

It's a Love Story - Chapter 8

Summary:

Azriel's shadows find their master a wife.

Azriel would just really like his heart not to get broken again.

And Sky...well, she's just really surprised that that far too handsome male is interested in her at all.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), I classified this as Azriel x OC, even when it't technically Azriel x Sellyn Drake (but we kinda know nothing about Sellyn Drake other than that she writes books so Sky is kinda an OC), Cassian is kinda a good guy for once, Azriel has a horrible time, as usual... Stuttering, toxic families (For once I do not mean the IC), Self-Esteem Issues, Secret Identity, Body Image Issues, Fat Shaming, People being utterly horrible. Racism against Illyrians/Lesser Faes?

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

Sky didn’t have much of a temper.

Even if she was frustrated or annoyed, she rarely got angry or lost her patience. 

It wasn't that she didn't have emotions. She did. She felt things deeply, passionately. However, she also believed that there was no point in wasting energy on getting angry. It didn't solve anything. It only made things worse. 

So Sky had learned a very, very long time ago…that there was no need to start screaming, because her stutter didn’t allow her that anyway…and that maybe…maybe it was easier for her to just let go off her anger about being unfairly treated. 

Getting angry wouldn’t help her. 

That day however…it burst out of her. Burst out of her like somebody had lanced an abscess. 

Her family could say whatever they wanted about her. But they were not going to say a single word about Azriel 

It was Winter Solstice.

Azriel and her had spent the last month or so enjoying winter season in Velaris…even once trying to ice skate on their lake, which only ended with him kissing her skinned knees, because she was definitely not a natural at it.

They had bought Winter Solstice gifts, and baked cookies…had decorated their house with pine garlands and velvet ribbons…

She had knitted them socks and they had made rabbit stews out of rabbits Azriel had hunted in the forest behind their house. (It was…she had never really seen him as a warrior, even when he wore these black leathers and the blue stone that glinted off him…but she could see him as a hunter, when he came home with a couple of rabbits, ready for dinner. It had also resulted in a new fur lined blanket for her, all ready on the couch. 

She had never outright asked…but he seemd to like it when she was cuddled beneath it, like it seemed to soothe some kind of instinct for him. Maybe the fact that it was the animal he had hunted?)   

Sky and Azriel had both made the decision to spend the days with their respective families and have their own Solstice celebrations the next day…that would pretty much sonsits out of a lazy day in bed and nothing else. 

It sounded amazing. Just what they wanted. 

And it had made sense to celebrate like that. She hadn’t wanted to be the one to keep him from his family after all, even if the thought of not spending Solstice with her mate had hurt more than she wanted to admit.

Azriel had been up ridiculous easily in the morning for a snowball fight that was apparently tradition…but not before he had spent a good half hour making her scream his name with his mouth between her thighs…

Afterwards, she had gotten dressed and left the shadows to amuse Hector for the day… and Sky had left to help her mother with dinner preparations.

A nice, quiet family dinner. Nothing more and nothing less.

That’s what it was supposed to be. They didn’t even get that far.

It all went to shit before dinner was even in the oven. 

From the moment she entered her parents house it was a barrage of barbed comments. About her appearance, her stutter, her lack of an boyfriend…her lack of a proper job. (Sellyn Drake was hers. Sellyn Drake was nothing they got to gossip about.) 

Sky had bitten her tongue. She had ignored the comments, tried to enjoy herself. But Claire never knew when enough was enough.

Her sister kept at it. Kept needling, jabbing at Sky until the little bubbles of anger popped to the surface and boiled into something…bigger.

“I…I met my m…mate,” Sky finally said flatly, after anther jab at her lack of a boyfriend. 

Take that Claire. Not just a fiance. A mate. 

Finally in just one thing Sky had been faster than her sister. 

A mate. That mystical rare mating bond had been a gift from the other for her and not for Claire. 

It caught Claire off guard. She stopped pacing, and turned to look at her sister, brow raised. The look said ‘Oh is that so?’ as if it was the kind of nonsense she had come to expect from her.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed, clearly not believing a word Sky said. 

But Sky wasn’t going to let this go. “His n..name is Azriel,” Sky said with a smile. “We are ver…very hap…happy.” 

They were. They were so happy. So delightfully happy. (So delightfully happy that Sky had been wondering if maybe…maybe the should start trying. High Fae fertility was hit or miss anyway…why shouldn’t they simply start trying and see where it would take them. And if it took two decades, then it took two decades. If it only took a year or three…well, then they were lucky.)  

Claire narrowed her eyes. She was about to say something mean, Sky could see it in the way her lip curled up.

“He…He's a g…good male,” she said firmly, cutting Claire off before she got the chance to spew out anything else.

Claire laughed. It was a harsh, biting sound.

"A good male? Really, Sky?" she sneered. "You actually fell for that line?"

It wasn’t a line. It was the truth. 

Azriel was a good male. Patient and intense and loving. He had never raised a single finger against her.Azriel would never hurt her intentionally. 

 Claire just wanted to belittle Sky in front of their whole family.

"You must be even more naive than you seem if you believe that," she said, almost pityingly. "You really think he wants you? That he actually cares about you? Nobody could want you. I bet he just pities you."

It should have hurt her, she realised. It would have. Even just months ago, it would have hurt her. 

But right now…right now it didn’t really. 

She was supposed to believe that Azriel didn’t want her? The same male that had spent the better part of an hour on his knees in front of her that very morning, eating her out like a starved male? She was supposed that her mate, who’s arousal shot across the bond like an inferno any time she slipped off her clothes, didn’t want her? That the same male that stared at her like she was a goddess, that spent hours worshipping her body with his hands…that she had nearly made come simply by touching his wings a few days ago didn’t want her? 

Still…Claire's words had their effect. She felt a small stab of doubt in her heart, and she hated it. She hated that her sister could still hurt her like this, still make her feel like that insecure little girl who stuttered and couldn't get a single word right.

“He…He l…loves me and I…I love him,” Sky said calmly.

That was clear in every single one of his actions, in every single word. 

“Where did you even meet him?” Sky’s mother demanded. “And what kind of name is Azriel?”

“In…In a bar. Wh…When we went out for Cl..Claire’s Hen Do.  And I im…imagine it’s an Il…illyrian name.”

Everything ground to a halt.

“He’s Illyrian?!” Her mother demanded sharply. “What’s wrong with you, Skylar!”

Sky flinched at her tone. It was harsh, angry. It was the same tone she'd always used when Sky was younger and got anything wrong or stepped out of line.

"Yes, he's Il…Illlyrian," she said, meeting her mother's gaze levelly. "What's…what’s wrong with that?" she asked. 

She knew that her family wasn’t the…most open about Lesser Faes, but…but that hatred in her mother’s voice….she hadn’t expected that. 

“Everything,” Admon gave back with a snort. “You seriously let that barbarian fuck you? I am surprised you actually survived that and he didn’t just rip you apart.”

Every bit of colour leeched out of her face, except her ruddy red cheeks at these crude words. 

This was Admon. Once upon a time, she had wanted to marry him. To have his children. To spent her life with him. 

And…and this was what he told her to her face. 

“I can’t believe that you even let a creature like him touch you,” her mother breathed staring at her with utter disgust.

“He’...He’s not a cre…creature,” Sky bit out. Azriel was her mate. 

“Is it true by the way?” Her brother wondered. “That Illyrian’s have a cat’s prick?”

"Orin!" her mother exclaimed, aghast. "Don't be vulgar! I don't want to know."

Orin shrugged, a smirk dancing across his face. "What? I’m just curious. I am sure Skylar knows. She must please him somehow when she’s still alive to enjoy their…couplings.”

Sky felt ill. She didn't know what to say, what to say in defense of the man she loved. She couldn't get a word out.

“Did you…did you let it touch you?” Her father demanded finally, his voice icy.

It. Not even him. It. Like Azriel was a thing. 

Sky felt her heart drop to the floor, breaking into pieces.

"Yes," she admitted, her voice barely audible.

Her father's face grew stony, and he took a step closer to her.

“How dare you?” he hissed. "How could you let a monster touch you like that?"

"He's not a monster!" Sky protested, her voice rising. "He's…He’s k…kind and gen…gentle, and-"

“And I am sure, he keeps you stuffed with his cat prick to keep you satisfied,” Claire drawled.

And Sky was done.

Somehow that was the last straw. 

Somehow that made something inside her break, irreparable. 

It snipped away every thread that ever kept her close to the family that she had been born into. 

“At least I didn’t need to take my sister’s sl…sloppy s…seconds,” Sky said, her voice flat, meeting her gaze full on.“And yes, Azriel more than keeps me s…satisfied.”

Silence descended over the room, the only sound the soft crackle of the fire in the hearth. Sky felt the tension in the air grow heavier with each passing second.

"You…you didn’t just say that,” Claire said coldly. "You take that back, Sky.

Sky raised her chin defiantly. "No.” she said simply. “I'm…I’m not taking back the truth," she said, her voice ringing with unexpected steel.

"You do not speak to me like that," Claire hissed. "You have no right—"

Something inside Sky snapped. Years of frustration, years of feeling invisible and ignored, years of enduring Claire's taunts and jibes all bubbled to the surface.

"I…I have ev…every right," she shot back, her heart pounding in her chest. “Not so fun when you are on the re…receiving end, is it?”

“Either you end your…dalliance with…that creature, or you are no daughter of mine,” her father snapped.

He talked to her like she was nothing. Like she was worth less than dirt beneath his boots. 

And somehow that made it even easier. 

“You want me to turn away my mate…for what? This?” She asked him, cocking her head to the side. .

"For the sake of our family’s reputation," her father said. "You are an embarrassment to us all by associating with that…lesser fae barbarian.”

Barbarian. Lesser Fae. Thing. Creature. Monster.

All of that said about the male she loved. About her mate. 

“He’s Illyrian,” Sky said, her voice icy. 

“Oh come off it,” “Orin snapped. “He’s lesser fae. The only thing they are good for is being fodder for the armies during war times. Other than that, they are worthless.”

Fodder. 

“We have Lesser Fae ancestry ourself,” Sky responded icily. “Our great grandmother was a River Nymph.”

"That was a long time ago," her father interrupted sharply. "It was one ancestor generations ago. And besides, her blood was not that strong to begin with."

Sky thought back to the eyes that looked back from her mirror each day. Blue and beautiful. The one trace of her that got passed down to her.

"Maybe it was her blood that made you think that opening your legs for that creature was in any way appropriate," her mother hissed. 

And suddenly it was so easy. 

“Azriel is my mate,” she hissed. “I will al…always chose him over you. You can spew what..whatever insult you want about him or his pe…peoople. He’s still a bet…better male than any of you could ever hope to be, has treated me better than any of you. I’ll gladly no longer be your daughter.”

She felt the sting of tears running down her cheeks, but she didn't try to wipe them away. She just stared back at her family, daring them to say more. There was a short moment of silence, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

She should have expected it. Her mother had always been quick to slap her if she did anything anything that she didn’t like.

Just this time…her hand didn’t make contact.

Sky stared at the tendril of shadows that jerked her mother’s hand back, having suddenly appeared. 

*You. Will. Not. Lay. A. Finger. On. Her,* the shadows hissed menacingly.

Sky stared at the shadows, her eyes widening in shock. They were angry. No. Furious. Utterly and completely furious. Her mother seemed equally taken aback, her hand still outstretched in the air where the shadows had stopped her.

Orin looked like he was about to piss himself, and her father…her father stared at the shadows, his face ashen.

“Come here,” Sky said quietly.

The shadows left her mother to come swarming to her, brushing over her cheek in greeting before wrapping themselves around her neck in a clearly possessive move.

Sky felt the familiar warmth of the shadows sink into her, a small bit of comfort in this awful situation. She turned to her family, her jaw set.

"I’m…I’m never coming back," she said, her voice quiet but resolute. And with that, she turned and walked away, She had only taken a handful of steps when she stopped and turned back, one last thing needing to be said, before she closed the door on this chapter of her life forever.

"I never want to see any of you again," she said, her voice shaking only slightly. "And when we have children, don’t you dare come and ask to have anything to do with them. You don’t deserve to even breath the same air as my mate."

With that, she turned and walked away, her head held high. 

***

Whatever went on between sky and her family…it wasn’t good. He could feel that in the bond slumbering underneath his breast bone.

He rubbed it absentmindly, staring in the flickering flame of the Birchin.

He had won that Snowball fight. Once more. One more victory to add to it.  Not that he particularly cared right now.

*Is she alright?* he asked the shadows.

The shadows were…quiet. And that spoke volumes. Something wasn't right. Azriel's heart pounded against his chest, his instincts urging him to act. He had to make sure Sky was alright. He couldn't stand to think about her being in any sort of trouble.

*Physicallly unharmed,* the shadows promised. *Her family is horrible,* they told him distastefully. 

Azriel's heart clenched at the shadow’s words. While it was a small relief that Sky wasn't physically hurt…her family being horrible made him want to grimace. 

“Alright, I had it!” Cassian snapped at that moment. “What the fuck is going on with you two?”

Azriel turned to his brother, seeing Cassian watch Rhys and himself with an expression of…something. Exasperation maybe.

"What do you mean?" Azriel asked, his voice even, feigning ignorance. He was really not in the mood to get into that either. But apparently he wasn’t going to get that small bit of mercy. 

"Don’t play dumb with me, brother," Cassian said, rolling his eyes. "You are both moody and more distant than usual. What the heck happened?"

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Azriel said flatly. Cassian rolled his eyes.

“Rhys?” Cassian demanded with a sigh. 

“You want to explain or shall I?” Rhys addressed him and Azriel just looked at him flatly.

“You gave the orders, High Lord.”

If Azriel had been in a better mood, he would have smirked. But right now, he just wanted this whole conversation to be over so he could check on Sky. The thought of her made his chest ache. He longed to see her, to hold her, to make sure she's alright. But he knew that Cassian and Rhys wouldn’t let him go without an explanation.

“Azriel and I…had a disagreement about Elain.” Azriel just stared at Rhys blankly. Seriously, that was the best Rhys could come up with? That’s what he wanted to go with?!

"A disagreement?" Cassian asked, brows raised. "What kind of disagreement? A 'we came to an agreement' kind of disagreement, or a 'we punched each other in the face' disagreement?"

“A ‘Rhys sticks his nose into things that are none of his business’ disagreement,” Azriel gave back drily.

“Excuse me, you were going to kiss ELain while her mate was under the same roof two years ago. Did you ever even consider the political ramifications of that?” Rhys snapped. “For gods sake, Azriel!”

Azriel's jaw clenched at Rhys's words, his temper flaring even as he tried to maintain a neutral expression. "You think I didn't consider the consequences? Of course, I did," he hissed, his voice dangerously low. "But feelings aren't logical, Rhys. We don't choose who we fall for, and it's not as simple as calculating political ramifications."

“I told Azriel to keep away from Elain. She fell for Lucien. He’s still moping about it and giving me the fault,” Rhys said flatly. “Out of pure interest, how much longer do you want to keep up with that, Az?”

Azriel couldn’t help the laugh that burst out od his mouth at that.

“You didn’t just fucking tell me to keep away from her. You told me and I quote ‘If you need to fuck somebody go to a pleasure hall and pay for it’,” Azriel repeated viciously.

"And I stand by that," Rhys snapped. "The last thing we need is for you to pine over someone who has made it clear where she stands. Elain has her mate, and she doesn't return your feelings. She’s married for gods’ sake!”

“Whoa!” Cassian cut them off. “What the fuck, Rhys?!”

"What?" Rhys demanded, glaring at Cassian.

Cassian gave him an incredulous look. "You told Azriel to go to a pleasure hall? Seriously?"

"I was trying to be helpful," Rhys said, his jaw clenching.

"Helpful?" Cassian asked incrediously. "Helpful would have been to be a little more understanding towards your brother's feelings. He does have them, you know,” Cassian said sarcastically. 

"I know that," Rhys snapped. "But he needs to move on. It's not healthy to keep pining after someone who doesn't return his feelings."

“Where was this opinion for the 500 years of me pining after Mor?” Azriel snapped. 

Rhys's expression darkened. "Don't do that, Azriel. Don't bring Mor into this. She's not relevant to this discussion."

”Not relevant?” Azriel gave back with a laugh. “I think she’s very relevant. You don’t trust me to act like an adult about my feelings. You ordered me to behave like I am some kind of rabid dog. More than once, more than twice. Constantly. Like I would ever do anything to put Mor and Emerie’s relationship into jeopardy. Don’t worry, High Lord. I’ll behave. I’ll leave Mor and Elain alone. .”

Rhys ran a hand through his hair, his frustration clear. "This is not about Mor, Azriel. This is about keeping the peace within our Inner Circle. Elain has her own life and her own happiness to think about. Interfering could only bring pain, not just for you, but for everyone involved. That’s why I ordered you to keep your distance. Not because I don’t trust your feelings or your actions, but because sometimes even the best intentions can have unintended consequences."

Azriel’s eyes darkened, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. "Don't give me any of your high and mighty bullshit, Rhysand. You don’t think I am good enough for Mor, and you certainly don't think I am good enough for Elain. But don’t worry, I'll keep my distance, as ordered. I wouldn't want to risk upsetting your perfect little court or ruining your plans for peace. Just tell me who else is off limits, so I know who else I'm not good enough for. Maybe Gwyn? Because remember, ‘don’t you dare to pressure her’?"

Rhys sighed, his gaze softening slightly. "Azriel, it's not about who you're 'good enough' for and who you aren't. It's about respecting people's choices and boundaries. Elain has made her choice in Lucien, and I just want to protect her and the peace we've worked so hard to maintain. And no, nobody else is off limits. You're free to…'seek your entertainment' as you please."

His entertainment. 

Right. 

Azriel snorted, the sound full of derision. “It warms my heart that you give me that permission,” Azriel said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Rhys rolled his eyes, clearly irritated by Azriel's reaction. "I'm not trying to 'give you permission,' Azriel," he said firmly. "I'm just trying to make sure you understand why I'm asking you to behave. I care about you and our inner circle. You're my brother, but I also care about Elain and her happiness. I don't want to see anyone get hurt."

“Have I done anything, anything at all that put her happiness in jeopardy?” Azriel asked, his voices harsh. “I kept away as you ordered. I fucking saved Lucien’s life, so she could be happy.”

"You haven't done anything wrong," Rhys acknowledged, his tone softening. "You've been a better friend to Elain than anyone could have asked. You saved Luicen because you are a good person, not just for Elain's sake. But I still think it’s best if you keep your distance. Not just for her, but for yourself too. Dwelling on feelings that can’t be returned will only bring you pain."

“For cauldron’s sake, Rhys,” Cassian said with a sigh.

Rhys turned his attention to him, the exasperation clear in his eyes. "What, Cassian?" he asked, his tone weary.

Cassian rubbed a hand over his jaw, shaking his head. "You’re so hell bent on keeping the peace you forget that the people in your court have feelings too," he said. "Azriel isn’t some emotionless soldier doing your bidding. He has feelings and desires, just like everyone else. And sometimes it’s not as simple as just moving on."

"I know that," Rhys said, running a hand through his hair. "But sometimes we have to put our own feelings aside for the greater good. As a High Lord, I have to think about the impact my actions could have on others. I'm not trying to shut down Azriel's feelings. I'm just trying to protect him from potential pain.”

“Yeah you did a shitty job at that,” Cassian said drily. “You could have told Mor hundred of years ago to have a conversation with him. You didn’t. But Azriel is supposed to tread carefully not to make her or Emerie uncomfortable. Azriel is supposed to behave?”

Rhys's eyes flashed in anger. "I know I've made mistakes, Cassian. I should have handled things differently with Mor and Azriel. But I can't change the past. All I can do is try to make the best decisions for everyone involved right now."

“You don’t even fucking realise how much of a self important hypocritical asshole you are, do you?” Azriel asked flatly. “It’s okay for you to pursue an engaged female that’s engaged to another High Lord, damn the consequences. But the rest of us…we are told to behave.”

Rhys bristled at Azriel’s words, his own temper threatening to flare. "That's different, Azriel," he said, his voice sharp. "That’s different and you know it. You would understand if you had a…” he hesitated.

"If I had a what?" Azriel prompted sharply.

Rhys let out a frustrated sigh, his fingers clenching around his mug. "A mate."

“Rhys,” Cassian said carefully.

"What?" Rhys snapped, his temper still simmering just below the surface. “He doesn’t have a mate, he doesn’t fucking understand it.”

Aaaaaand…. Azriel was done.

So fucking done. 

“Where are you going?” Rhys demanded as he stood up.

“Home,” Azriel said flatly. “You have my gifts, hand them out. Wish Feyre a Happy Birthday, will you? I’ll be back to do your bidding in about 3 days, High Lord.” 

“I highly doubt that your mother will enjoy your impromptu appearance at Rosehall,” Rhys said. Azriel’s hand twitched towards Truthteller. “Let’s just…”

“Rhysand!” Cassian snapped.

“What?” Rhys asked. 

“I have talked to my mother once since the Sealing of Velaris was lifted,” Azriel said tightly. “One conversation where she told me that she found a new family and that I should keep away from her. So no, Rhys. I am not going to Rosehall.”

Rhys looked utterly shell-shocked by Azriel’s revelation. "Azriel, I..." he started, but Azriel simply shook his head.

"Don't," he said. "Just don't." He didn’t wnat to talk about it. He never wanted to talk about that. His mother could do whatever she wanted. he would leave her alone, just as requested. But he was not going to talk about it. 

“Then I am coming with you. You are not spending Winter Solstice alone brooding at the House of Wind,” Cassian said quickly, standing. 

“I am not going to the House of Wind either.” Azriel answered flatly. “I am going home to my house and I won’t be alone either.”

"What do you mean you won't be alone?" Rhys asked sharply.

Azriel just snorted, “My mate will be there,” he said simply. “She’s better company than any of you.”

“Your...your mate?” Rhys repeated, his eyes widening.

Cassian gaped at Azriel. "Your mate? Why didn’t you tell us? Who is she?"

“Why should I tell you? ” Azriel gave back his voice icy. “I may trust you with this court, Rhysand, but I do not trust you with anything I love. Not anymore.”

[daycourtofficial]

Gingerfucker - Eris x Rhys’s Sister!reader Masterlist

Banner by @milswrites | Note: these are in chronological order by content, not by posting date. This is an ongoing series and will be updated.

Summary: no one is more surprised than Eris Vanserra to find that he is capable of much more than just political ambition

Some art of the babies: (Nyx and Atlas) (All the gingersnaps) (Atlas and Leif) (Atlas) (the family)

Art by @dawneternal: Eris during the events of Cold was the steel of my axe to grind, portraits of the gingersnaps, art of Eris and Atlas

Gingerfucker week 2024 blurbs

Moodboard

It’s just to satiate the bond - an agreement to have sex just to satiate a mating bond neither party wants is a great idea. Surely no one will get hurt, right?

One single thread of gold tied me to you* - Eris accepts the mating bond and is incredibly touched by the effort you put into cooking him the meal from scratch

All’s well that ends well to end up with you - fears and doubts cause you and Eris to do your first irrational act together: a secret mating bond ceremony

I am ash from your fire - Surprising Eris one evening, you’ve turned up in the dead of night to let him know that your brother had figured out your secret relationship, offering you an ultimatum.

Cold was the steel of my axe to grind - centuries of plotting and scheming come to a head when his mate unexpectedly arrives in Autumn and Eris is desperate to set his plans in motion, least she become a piece for Beron to use against him

Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons - Eris leaves his mate alone in the Forest House, telling her to trust no one but his mother. The two women are ill-equipped to provide frontline fighting, but surely they can help Eris in their own way. *companion piece to ‘Cold was the steel of my axe to grind’

Hell was the journey but it brought me Heaven - in the immediate aftermath of Beron’s death and the thrum of power in his veins, Eris’s mate forces him to, at the bare minimum, bathe

Secret exchanges - a few weeks after the aftermath of Rhys’s banishment, your mate, the new High Lord of the Autumn Court, has a secret meeting with someone from your family.

Blood moon in Autumn - fae cycles are no joke, but your mate is always there to provide you comfort in the best way possible: by being your personal heating pad

Have I found you, flightless bird? - a reflection of a life of secrets and expectations and how, despite it all, a flightless bird found home in an unlikely place

Ferocious beasts with soft bellies - Eris’s hounds know you’re pregnant before either of you do, driving the two of you wild with their newfound devotion to you.

Starfall in Autumn - based on the prompt for Starfall week “characters a and b realize they won’t make it to Starfall. They make the most of what they have to celebrate”

Laborious anxieties - Eris is riddled with anxiety leading up to your labor, but what happens when some of his worst fears come to fruition?

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed - your relationship with Rhysand had been icy at best, but your attempts to reconcile are quick to be shot down. A rash decision leads you to endangering your life - can Eris find you in time? Can he save your infant son?

Amber eyes, looking into mine - Eris finds something in his study that triggers him into a frozen state of panic. Who better suited to pulling Eris from his past than his future?

We started alone, in the end we’re okay - on a rare night alone, Eris reflects on his long life and the lonely nights that haunted his youth. And how he’s a long way from the person he was and the person he had to be.

Fireling - every father’s dream is to be there the day his son first uses his powers. Luckily for Eris, he gets just that.

How the kingdom lights shine just for me and you - Eris tells his sons a story, letting them know how a strong knight defeated an evil dragon and saved the kingdom.

Loving parents, harmless fun - Modern!Gingerfucker - slice of life where Eris takes his family on a roadtrip and is only slightly annoyed at his son’s choice of car game

* = smut

[readychilledwine]

Pieces of You pt 4

Summary - After losing Feyre to childbirth, Rhysand finds himself leaning on one of her friends much more than he'd ever expected.

Warnings- Mourning, loss of a partner, loss of a friend, loss of parent, babies and the complications that come with raising them, slight neglect, slight angst to wrap it up before Fluff and smut begin, same editing warning (friend is arc reading, Liz will catch any other mistakes when she rereads this with fresh eyes)

A/n - I promised they wouldn't be a part long. What you're all waiting for will happen in the next part. 🫣

✨️ Series Masterlist ✨️ Rhysand Masterlist ✨️ Master Masterlist ✨️

This nanny was not you.

You had the left house, as promised, Monday morning. You hadn't taken a single dress Rhys had bought his Little Mor, a single one of her toys, you didn't even take the blanket he had paid for with her name stitched into soft buttery fabric.

He watched as Nyx fought the female he had hired. He would only latch to her for a few moments before wailing, piercing the now all too quiet home with his confusion and frustration. This nanny was not you, and Nyx clearly was not going to accept her.

He had hoped by the afternoon Nyx would have been hungry enough to just latch, to cave, but that was not the case. The young heir was crying again, frustrated and hungry as he slowly wore himself out into another unscheduled nap. Rhysand zoned out the noise, his mind now on you, on the second chance of love, devotion, happiness he allowed to walk out the door.

Nyx had taken to you. He was a momma’s boy the second he was about to show preference. But Morwenna, Morwenna was Rhysand's. His own breathing filled the void of silence that had fall over the house, and as he stared at his paperwork, tears began to fall, he just hoped your mind was on him, or at least Nyx, as well.

His mind went to his Little Mor, his sweet girl. Her eyes always lit up for him, shrieks of joy and excitement were common in Rhysand's office.

You sighed and sunk into the couch, Azriel beside you as you did. “Come home,” he had been begging for the past two hours for you to see reason, to forgive Rhysand. He had explained what happened at dinner, watching as you slowly fell apart all over again. “He didn't mean a single word. I can tell.”

Azriel swallowed before standing, “I will be back. Kiss my niece for me when she wakes up. I'll come back to sing her to sleep tonight.”

You shook your head, leaning back into the couch as you did. “It felt like he did, Azriel. It felt like he just-” you stopped yourself from crying, not willing to hurt over some male who so easily threw you away. “He said I needed to stop acting like Nyx's mom.” You watched Azriel's face fall. Watched as his sun-kissed tan skin paled. “Then tried to tell me I could not take Morwenna with me.”

Screaming. Screaming was all Azriel heard as he walked into the new Riverhouse. Rhys was pacing the floor, bouncing Nyx as the sun fell and Cassian stood there, eyes watering and wide in panic. He took a spot next to Cassian, sharing a look of concern with his brother. “He refuses to latch on to his nanny,” Cassian's voice cracked. “And Madja keeps trying to tell Rhysand it's just going to be an adjustment period, but Nyx is hungry.”

Azriel nodded, mind flashing back to the subtle looks of pain on your face as you so much as moved or held his Little Mor. “And he won't just suck up his pride and take him to y/n?”

Cassian sighed. “He said he can't do that after what he has done. That there is no fixing the hurt he caused.” Anger had leaked into Cassian's soft voice. “I do not get how she can do this to Nyx.”

“You would do it to if you mate ignored your bond.” The weight of those words hit Cassian's chest, screaming in his like an alarm. “What.”

“Y/n and Rhysand are mates,” Azriel went to Rhys, stroking Nyx's back. “Let me take him to her?”

Rhys shook his head, ignoring the tears falling at his son's frustration. “I just need him to adjust.”

“Starving is not adjusting, Rhysand. It is neglect.” The High Lord turned to Azriel, glaring hard. “I know what you said to her. Go there, apologize, and have her feed him at the very least. She loves him.”

As if it was a spell place to curse Rhysand, Nyx must have caught the faint scent of you lingering to Azriel's soft t shirt. The heir calmed significantly, reaching for the material. “Give me your shirt so I can lay him down and we can discuss this.”

Azriel obeyed, hoping just the scent of you would be enough to give him a small nap while Azriel convinced Rhysand to let him take Nyx to you. Just for the night.

Rhysand sighed, laying Nyx down with Azriel's shirt underneath him. He would have been lying if anyone asked him if he had savored that soft scent clinging to the shirt. He walked out of the room and hardly made it 5 steps before the wailing began again. Rhys pulled the bottle filled with the mixture Madja had made from his pocket world before going back in.

Nyx was inconsolable. He had spent the better portion of the morning crying, screaming, refusing to sleep.

Rhysand picked him up, praying to anyone who would listen and wishing on every star that Nyx would just take this bottle. As soon as he latched, Rhysand watched his flawless little face make a deeper scowl before pushing the bottle away. You were Nyx's sole thought. Your smell, your skin under his, your voice. The piercing wail had Azriel and Cassian running up the stairs as soon as they heard.

Rhysand knew Nyx didn't fully understand the noise about to come from his mouth. Nyx didn't know it expressed exactly what he wanted, nor what the sound would mean. He didn't know that it would make his father crawl back to you less than 12 hours after you had left. The heir released a strangled cry over and over again of one of the only sounds he knew to make, "Ma. Ma. Ma!”

"No," Rhysand choked down the tears that were getting ready to fall. "He's crying for y/n. He's crying for his mama.” Rhys didn't wait for them, he didn't even say goodbye, he winnowed into your living room. You were curled up on the couch, instantly awake by the sounds of Nyx's crying.

"Is he crying for Feyre?" Cassian went to take a tentative step forward, just for Rhysand to stand and move quickly out of the room.

Rhysand didn't even have to ask. He didn't have to beg. You took the heir instantly and pulled him to you, placing him in his favorite spot to eat.

His tears had triggered Morwenna, though, and soon her soft cries filled the air. Rhysand ran to her. He ran to his daughter and cradled her tight to his chest. Her bright eyes instantly looked up at him, a smile taking place of where a deep frown was. “Hi baby girl,” her giggle instantly changed his mood. He walked her to the living room, watching as she instantly because to smile and shriek at the sight of Nyx.

“Give him a little bit, baby,” you didn't even look up from the tiny illyrian, stroking his brow as he ate. “He is very hungry and mama needs him to eat.” Rhys sat across from you, holding Little Mor tight to him. “She's been making d noises all day. To me, to Azriel, to no one. Just “dah duh deh” all day.”

“She missed her daddy,” Rhys held her up, rocking her gently side to side, “didn't you Morwenna. You missed daddy? 13 hours apart is much too long, isn't it, my little darling.” You shook your head, fighting the smile as Wen giggled at Rhysand.

You felt your heart skip a best as he kissed her cheeks and then her tummy. Rhysand was a wonderful father, and watching him in this element, this area of self-doubt, he had made all feelings of anger melt away. He looked to you instantly, claws gently tapping on the fortress of your mind before you allowed him in. “Let me take us home?” Home, the word replayed in your mind before you nodded, holding a hand to him. Home sounded so good.

He winnowed you two back to the Riverhouse, making Wen giggle even more at the starlight that surrounded you four. You walked in and stopped dead in your tracks, eyes Azriel up and down. “Where are your clothes?”

Azriel looked shameless, muscled torso on display as he held Cassian in a headlock. “I'm choking out Cassian and your concern is my lack of a shirt?”

Cassian raised a hand to you, face slightly red. His eyes had a hint of guilt in them as he tapped Azriel's abs. “Y/n,” Cassian moved to guide you to the couch, smiling at a still latched Nyx and then moved Rhysand to be next you. “I want to apologize.” You knit your brows at him as he sat and Azriel glared.

“I made some unfair statements without consideration for you and Rhysand. I did not think about how my words would affect your relationship with each other, or how I cheapend the new mating bond you two share.”

Cassian looked raw. Like months of build up and emotion hit him. “We prepared you know? We knew she was going to die, we begged and prayed for a solution, and just when hope came it crashed like a tidal wave. Nesta and I won't even touch each other. The guilt-”

“You have nothing to be guilty for, Cass,” Rhys interrupted him. “I'm the one who had sex with her. I'm the one who-”

“It was an accident,” you spoke softly, pulling the focus to you. “Feyre's death was a tragic mistake and accident. You all did not know the extent of her shifting magic. You didn't know it temporarily changed her that deeply.”

Rhys seemed love drunk as he handed you Little Mor, kissing both babes before you walked away. He was silent until you left, eyes trailing your body. “Cassian, I love her.”

Rhys sobbed softly, hearing words from you many had whispered before felt so different. Like a soothing balm over a wound, slowly healing it. “Cassian, Nesta did not know that the outcome of her bargaining with a God would be a cruel trick. There's no guilt to be had. She gave everything back, made herself the Cauldron’s servant. She was too young to read those unspoken lines.” Nyx finally let go, deep asleep in your arms. “I'm going to go lay him down. There is nothing for me to forgive because you did not intentionally harm me, Cassian, but maybe you three should speak.”

“I know.”

“That doesn't mean I never loved Feyre. Nor that I've forgotten her.”

A second “I know” broke through Cassian's lips, his shoulders falling as it did. “I miss her.”

Rhys felt the tears welling, felt them falling before he could will them away. “I do too. Every fucking day I miss her. I miss her hair, her laugh, her voice. I miss her correcting me.” He watched Cassian fall more, mourning the sister he had lost openly for the first time.

“But when I'm with y/n, it hurts less. When I see y/n smile, I feel more whole again. When I hear her laugh, I feel like I'm alive again. When I see her with Nyx, when I see his smile when she's holding him or playing with them, I feel like Feyre is here, nudging me towards y/n.”

Azriel's voice came, soft and slow. “Feyre would want you to move on, Rhysand. She would have wanted you to find happiness. She would probably fight all of us for being this sad.”

The thought of that made Cassian genuinely smile. His eyes sparkling with fond memories of Feyre Cursebreaker stomping her feet when he'd beat her during a sparring match. “Her and Feyre both do this thing, maybe it's an artistic thing, where they look at things really close and back away slowly.”

Rhys started laughing immediately knowing what his brother meant. “Y/n did it with one of my outfits. She said I looked great as long as she stayed 5 feet away.”

Azriel put a hand on Cassian's shoulder. “This is a roundabout way of us telling you we support you, Rhysand. We support you and y/n.”

“Two mates,” Cassian said slowly. “Imagine having two mates, Az. Two females that you get to love unconditionally and annoy whenever you'd like.”

Rhys and Azriel shared a silent look, a soft, "Not yet” coming through to Rhysand's mind. “We will leave you and y/n alone to talk.”

“There won't be much talking,” Rhysand stood slowly. “I've always been better at expressing my emotions physically.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @chxosangxl @dreamlandreader

Pieces of You Taglist:

@dr4g0ngirl @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @blueeclipsepaperstudent @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @novalovi @rachelnicolee @sleepylunarwolf @sidthedollface2 @acourtofbatboydreams @bunnyredgirl @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @demonicbusiness @blushingfawnsposts @bookishbroadwaybish @littlestw01f @miadialila @golden-canyon @fxckmiup

@batii-skies @emma-andrea1 @buckystevelove @slut4acotar @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris @awkardnerd @throneofshadows @sevikas-whore @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @why4anne @brieflyclassymortal @aspenger @nayaniasworld @nyxbranwenn

[starryevermore]

and now i see daylight ✧ azriel & lucien

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

pairing: azriel x fem!reader; lucien vanserra x fem!reader

summary: maybe he ran with the wolves and refused to settle down. maybe you’ve stormed out of every single room in this town—threw out the cloaks and the daggers because it’s morning now. it’s brighter now. 

word count: 3,241

warnings?: angst city™, mates, rejected bond, finding love again, fluff, multi pov, not proofread

When you were younger, you always thought that finding your mate would be the happiest day of your life. Your parents were the happiest people you had ever seen, and you thought your mate would make you feel that same level of joy. Why wouldn’t he? You didn’t know of the hardships of having a mate that wasn’t well-matched to you. Of a mate who did not adore you the way you adored him. Once, you thought Azriel thought the same way you did. That finding his mate would be a sort of heavenly high. Once, you dreamed that you and Azriel would be mates—because who would be better together than two lovesick fools? 

And yet, as you felt that golden bond tug deep in the center of your chest, all you felt was the overwhelming sense of dread. Because you had just seen your mate kiss another female. A female that was mated to someone else. You watched as Rhysand pulled him away, no doubt to talk to Azriel about the colossal mistake he was making. You caught Elain’s eye as she turned to leave. She said your name softly. 

“Follow your heart,” you said as your own was breaking. “Don’t let anyone tell you what you feel is wrong. You are the only one who knows what is right for you.”

Elain stared at you as if she could see right through you. Maybe she could. She was a Seer—who knew the limits of her power. Her voice was as gentle as a hug, “You should, too.”

It would have been kinder, would have hurt less, if she had strangled you. Fought you for Azriel’s affections, even if she would always win in the end. “Be well, Elain.”

“Be well.”

After you left that night, you didn’t see your friends for a long while. It was better that way, you supposed. You only became friends with the Inner Circle after befriending Azriel. He had come into the café you once worked at for some peace and quiet. It had been late, so you and him were the only ones there. Though he sought solitude, you ended up chatting his ear off. He didn’t seem to mind. Azriel came every night for months, save for the days he was gone away on missions. Eventually, his brothers got curious about what Azriel was doing with his nights and followed him. And, well, the rest was history. 

Nowadays, you were a researcher for Rhys. Ever since Feyre became fae, ever since Elain and Nesta were made, ever since Nesta was showing how deep her powers ran, that meant you spent most of your time holed up in a library, nose shoved in a book. No one ever questioned why you were gone. It made it all so simple to slip away. 

If only you noticed the inky tendrils of Azriel’s shadows lurking in the corners of your apartment. Maybe then you wouldn’t have been surprised by the Shadowsinger’s sudden arrival. 

“You’re leaving without a goodbye?”

You jumped at the sound of the deep voice echoing in your near-empty bedroom. When you turned, his hazel eyes were narrowed suspiciously at you. “I thought it would be easier that way.”

Azriel lifted his chin, glared down his nose at you. You noted the way his fingers twitched into fists, as though he was barely constraining his anger. His hurt. “How could you ever think that?”

“Because I cannot watch my mate love another female.”

He didn’t react. Not for a long time. Long enough for you to carefully place your clothes in your suitcase, to go to your wardrobe for another load and fold them up. Before you could place them, too, in the suitcase, his hand caught your wrist. His eyes looked pained when you looked up at him. 

“I wish you told me,” he said. “How long have you known?”

Not, I would rather be with my mate. Not, to hell with Elain. Not, I want to try. 

“Since you kissed Elain at Solstice. So, a few weeks.”

Azriel gave a tight nod, looked anywhere but at you. His grip on your wrist loosened enough for you to resume packing. He didn’t stop you again.

“That…was probably for the best.”

And somehow, that hurt more than seeing him kiss Elain in the first place. Azriel wasn’t going to fight for you. For how many years had he longed to meet his mate? How many stories had he told you of how he would spoil his mate rotten, never let her know a day where he didn’t love her? Was there something wrong with you? Azriel didn’t want you as a mate. Certainly that meant something was wrong with you. 

You shook off a shadow that was trying to wind itself up in your hair. 

“Where are you going to go?”

“I think it’s for the best you don’t know.” Maybe it was petty, maybe it was justified. You hoped it hurt Azriel regardless. 

He nodded again. “Right. Plausible deniability when everyone else is wondering where you’ve gone. That’s smart.”

You weren’t sure they’d notice, but you nodded anyways. You crossed the room to your chest of drawers and got your underwear. Once, you might have blushed at the idea of your mate seeing your lacy unmentionables. Now, you kind of wanted to throw them in Azriel’s face and taunt him over what he was losing. 

“You…didn’t want this either, did you?” he asked. If you shut your eyes and pretended hard enough, you might have heard hurt in his voice. Pleading. Hope that maybe you would tell him otherwise. But when you looked at him, you only saw the same cold apathy he came into the room with.

You sucked your tongue over your teeth. “Why do you think I didn’t say anything?” you lied. “I didn’t want to burden you with this decision.” 

Another shadow tried to wrap itself around you. Despite your best efforts to shake it off, this one was more stubborn. Why wasn’t Azriel keeping a tighter reign on them? You paused. Why were they even here in the first place? The shadows had to have been the reason he came. But why?

“Why are you here, Az?”

Azriel’s jaw clenched and unclenched. Fight for me, you begged. You tugged on the bond, hoping that he might feel something. If he did, he gave no indication. “My shadows made me believe you were in trouble.”

“Well, I’m not. So, you can feel free to leave.”

His mouth opened, then shut. He nodded. “Be well,” he said. 

You didn’t say it back. 

Lucien watched as you basked in the glow of the Day Court’s sun. When he had last seen you in the Night Court, you had often slunk in the shadows with the Court’s Spymaster. You almost seemed like a different female. As though you were finally shining. He found himself hoping you always shined.

The two of you had grown close. Lucien had never expected the two of you to become anything remotely resembling friends. You were kind to him in the Night Court, of course. But you once had been glued to Azriel’s side. Hiding in the shadows, never allowing anyone too close. Now, it was by Lucien’s side that you stayed. It was him who you smiled at, who you told your jokes to, who you would drag to the library so you would have company while you worked. Lucien Vanserra had become your closest confidant, and he wore that title with pride. He would not forsake you as Azriel had done. 

Months ago, when Lucien arrived here, he had been surprised to see you hiding in the palace. It had been his understanding that you so rarely strayed from the Spymaster’s side. At first, Lucien thought you had been sent to Day for research. With its ten thousand libraries, there was little you couldn’t find. Yet, the longer he stayed to reconnect with his apparent father, the stranger it was that you remained.

“This is her home now,” Helion explained when Lucien asked at dinner one evening. One of the frequent evenings where you were buried away in the library and had forgotten to come eat.

“Night is her home.” It had been for as long as he knew you. 

Helion raised a brow. “Not any longer.”

Lucien’s heart clenched. Had something terrible happened? Did you have a falling out with Rhysand’s Inner Circle? He asked Helion as much.

“Her mate sought the love of another,” he said gently. Helion looked over at your empty chair across from Lucien. “Perhaps you should bring her down a tray. Your lonely hearts might enjoy each other’s company.”

Lucien wanted to laugh in his father’s face. You had never so much as looked at Lucien as anything more than an acquaintance. You were kinder than the rest of the Inner Circle, of course. You knew he had been Feyre’s friend, and you felt like he should be treated nicer than the rest of the Night Court did. No one ever followed your suit. He was Spring Court’s scourge. For all they knew, he would run to Tamlin at the first opportunity. You never made him feel like you distrusted him. In another life, maybe he would have fallen for you then. But Lucien remembered how you always gazed longingly at Azriel. How the last time he saw you, you looked like a shell of yourself as he and Elain inched closer and closer together during Solstice. If Azriel had been your mate, the mate who won Lucien’s own mate’s heart, then perhaps Helion was right. 

That evening, as Lucien sat in the library with you, watching you eat and laugh at the stories he had gathered from his time with Vassa and Jurian, he vowed to never let you become that shell again. 

Which was why he dreaded telling you that Rhysand had asked for permission to use Day’s libraries and the Inner Circle would be joining him. 

So he didn’t. 

“Come to Winter with me,” Lucien said as he stood above you, extending a hand for you to take. 

You smiled as you slipped your hand into his. As you rose to your feet, Lucien helped to steady you, a sturdy arm wrapping around your waist. He liked the way your soft body felt pressed against his chest. He liked how you made no effort to pull away from him even more. “Why are we going to Winter?”

“Does there have to be a reason?” Lucien asked. “Jurian told me of how humans would build men out of the snow.”

Your eyes twinkled as you looked up at him. For a second, he was sure you would buy it. Not question a thing. But then your smile faltered. “They’re coming here, aren’t they?”

“I want to build a snowman with you. A whole snowfamily, if you’ll let me.”

“Since I left, Rhysand has been down a researcher. He and Helion are still allies, so he asked if he could come here to talk with the librarians. He’s bringing everyone with him, isn’t he?”

Lucien lifted your hand to his mouth, brushed his lips over your knuckles. “Come to Winter with me,” he repeated. 

“Is Elain coming, too?”

“I don’t care if she is.” Oddly enough, he meant it. When Lucien came to the Night Court, he tried to be there for Elain. At every turn, she pushed him away. He didn’t blame her, of course. This transition was not easy on its own, never mind adding a mating bond to the mix. Eventually,  the desire to be around her dulled. Lucien didn’t want a mate who didn’t want him, so he put distance between them. He was grateful he did. Otherwise Lucien would never get to feel you in his arms. “I’ve moved on, but I know the ache is still fresh for you. Come to Winter with me, and let us pretend the Cauldron made us mates instead.”

The corner of your mouth quirked up again. You pulled his hand toward your mouth, kissed his knuckles. Lucien’s heart fluttered in his chest. “When do we leave?”

The wails of his shadows had not ceased since you left the Night Court. Though Elain had bought him refill after refill of that headache powder in an attempt to relieve the pounding in his head at their constant somber songs, it had done little to alleviate his pain. Not the ache in his head, nor the ache in his heart. Azriel once thought he was grateful that you had decided to reject the bond. As wonderful as you were a friend, he had been so sure his heart laid with Elain. That there was something more powerful, more beautiful, about choosing to love another when fate demanded otherwise. Now, he only wondered if he should have chosen you. 

Only Feyre was the one able to figure out why Azriel had become more withdrawn than usual. Everyone chalked up your disappearance as to why he faded more into the shadows, believed that the loss of his twin flame so suddenly had left him reeling, but they didn’t understand why. But Feyre, Feyre understood. She had found him standing outside your old apartment building too long, had found him staring at the door to your room in the River House too often, had found him turning to whisper something to you only to remember you were gone too much. When he heard whispers throughout his many missions about how you lived with Helion, there were many nights where Feyre watched as Azriel stood on the edge of the balcony, ready to fly off and bring you home. Perhaps that was why she encouraged him to join her and the rest of the Inner Circle at the Day Court. She thought she was being helpful. Maybe if you saw him again, she thought, you would decide to be with your mate. 

You wouldn’t, and Azriel knew that. He had once told you he would forsake his mating bond, should it ever come, to remain with Elain. He shouldn’t be hurt that you believed him. 

And, yet, his shadows sang as they arrived in Helion’s home. Helion’s home, where you were not at. 

At first, Azriel thought you might have been hiding away. Helion would not be so cruel as to not give you a warning that your former family would be coming for a visit. But as the week wore on, Azriel realized the brief hints of your scent he caught were stale. Like you had been gone. Like you had left. 

He didn’t blame you. 

On the final night of their visit, Feyre finally broached the subject of your whereabouts at the end of a meeting. 

“She and Lucien have gone to Winter for the week,” Helion said as he led everyone out of the meeting room and into the hall. “They should be arriving soon.”

Azriel was suddenly aware of how Elain hung onto his arm, her grip tightening at the mention of her rejected mate. A good partner would have comforted her, would have reassured her that he would stand between them should Lucien dare to try anything. Azriel wasn’t a good partner, for all he could think of was why the Hel were you with Lucien?

“I hope we can catch them before we leave,” Feyre said, sparing a glance at Azriel. 

The air shifted. Down the hall, you appeared with Lucien. Azriel’s breath caught in his throat. He watched as you leaned against Lucien’s arm, beaming up at him. Had Azriel ever seen you smile like that before? What had Lucien done to deserve such a look from you? He wasn’t aware the two of you were even close. Sure, you had been friendly to him, but you were friendly with most people. Azriel struggled to wrap his mind around how so much could change in a few short months. A blip in the life of a fae, and yet he almost felt like he was staring at a stranger. 

Beside him, Helion smiled fondly at his son. “Ah, I am glad he finally made a move.”

Azriel glanced at Day’s High Lord then back to you. 

Rhys, however, took the bait. “Oh? I would have thought Lucien would still be heartbroken over Elain rejecting the bond.”

Helion’s face hardened for a moment, before he smiled at the way Lucien softly kissed the side of your head. Azriel wanted his shadows to strangle the male and he might have allowed them to, if it wasn’t for the glare Feyre was sending him. “They both were heartbroken, then they found each other.”

“I wish they would get lost,” Azriel muttered to himself.

Helion looked at him, brows pinched together. He looked as though he could see right through Azriel. Did he know? Did he know that you were Azriel’s mate? It wouldn’t have surprised him if Helion did know. You had to have provided some reason for why you fled your home. “Pardon?”

Feyre jumped in before Azriel could do something to lose one of Night’s few allies. “I believe Azriel was saying something about being hungry. Will dinner be soon?”

Helion’s face softened at Feyre. “You will have to try harder to distract me, High Lady. But your Shadowsinger may join us all for dinner in a few minutes if you can keep your leash on him.”

From the corner of his eye, he watched as Elain looked up at him. He did not meet her gaze. He couldn’t stop staring at you.

“He’ll behave. Won’t you, Azriel?” Feyre said. 

Still, he stared. You and Lucien came closer, but neither of you seemed to notice. Was this his punishment? To watch you so wrapped up in the love of another, just as you had done to him? He would take it all back. He would beg to the Mother for a chance to do it all over again, to finally see you. 

“Won’t you, Azriel?” Feyre repeated, a little firmer this time. 

You froze, eyes going wide as you finally, finally, saw him. Lucien tensed, taking a slight step in front of you, as though to shield you from Azriel. What harm would he cause you? You were his mate. He was supposed to protect you. 

“Are you well?” Azriel managed to ask. His voice was tight, as if his vocal cords might snap if he said anymore. Around him, his shadows began to dance. He fought hard to keep them at his side, though a few still slipped out to swirl around your feet.  

Your eyes slid up to Lucien. A soft smile curled across your face. What had happened in Winter between you and him? What had been happening while you resided in Day? You took Lucien’s hand. “I once believed love would be black and white,” you said, “but…it’s golden, like daylight.”

Azriel’s chest seized. He shook off Elain and stumble backwards. Cassian sent him an odd look, and he felt Rhys’s talons scrape down his shield.

“You’re well?” he repeated. He had to be sure. Had to know there was not a chance in Hel that he could win your favor again somehow. 

“Yes.”

“You deserve it,” he said. 

You looked at him again, your eyes softening. “So do you.”

Azriel was gone before he heard you. 

[moonfawnx]

Whispers of our past

Rhysand x Celine (oc)

Prologue

Celine stared at the wall, waiting.

Waiting for Rhys to come back to her.

Was he playing some kind of sick jokes?

It had been a week ago when she’d last seen him. When he’d made love to her all night, whispering promises on her skin, promises of their future.

She held him through the night, stroking his hair and wings softly, sharing her love to him.

He played with her black hair, and complimented her eyes, commenting ominously how they reminded him of oceans during night, due to their deep blue colour.

They had been seeing each other for nearly five years. Five years- she had met his family in the first few months and oh how she adored all of them. Her playful jokes with Cassian, her mutual calmness with Azriel allowed them to bond, her shared interests with Moriggan and her witty responses that amused Amren.

She was his peace. His happiness, his comfort. She’d bonded so well with his family, he couldn’t wait to have her sit on a throne beside him, rule with him and spend the rest of his life with her.

But for now, they chose a more peaceful life.

They were staying at a cottage he purchased, on the outsides of Velaris, as it provided a sense of freedom and calmness he hadn’t experienced anywhere else.

Three weeks ago, he had finally done it. He had taken her on a dinner date, and a flight after which landed them on the top of the tallest mountain there, granting them a perfect view of the stars and galaxy. and right there, the high lord went on one knee, and pulled out a small black box, with a shiny ring inside.

The stone, was the prettiest Celine had ever laid her eyes on, as he explained that he’d had it custom made for her, as none he had found seemed perfect enough for her.

She said yes, and then she was in his arms, tears in her eyes as she kissed him beneath the stars.

For the weeks after the proposal, he was with her every single night, tangled in the sheets together, whispering together about their love.

And then a week ago, whilst they were together again, he left and never came back.

He had been laying on her bed, sheepishly smiling at her while she rubbed body cream on her skin, right after they showered together. And as she turned towards him and smiled back, his smile faltered as his eyes widened.

He quickly got up, muttering some excuses about how he had court meetings he had forgotten about, and then vanished into air.

Celine, of course, was understandably confused but figured the high lord would return to her the day after.

But he didn’t.

Not the day after, not two days after, then three and now a week.

Her stress for him grew each day, and by the third day of hearing no word for him, she made her way to Velaris but- the city was gone.

It was as if the earth had swallowed her beautiful home, as she tried to find her way back, to home, to him.

It was then she realised- he shielded the city. From what? From who?

And where was he? Why had he left her? Why had he not contacted her yet?

It was then that she realised that the high lord disregarded her as if she meant nothing to him.

Had he shielded the city from her?

Was that why he abandoned her and never looked back?

As she sat on the couch in the cottage they once shared, a month after Rhysand’s disappearance , that she figured she had to leave.

She packed a bag with her essentials, and some clothing, and then went to her old family home, which she shared with her parents and brother- Matthias, before her parents passed, which lead to both siblings following their own paths.

She winnowed at the house, in the mountains separating winter and autumn courts, and it was after she settled there- and sent a letter to Matthias, who lived at mortal lands with his wife- a kind healer named Elena, as she felt a strong need for their support.

Her brother and his wife arrived two days later, and Celine had finally allowed herself to break down in their arms, as she explained what had happened with Rhys- still looking at her engagement ring on her finger, which she hadn’t found the strength to take off yet.

“Are you sure? Are you sure he doesn’t want you anymore” Matthias asked her, confused since he had known Rhys for all the years he’d been with his sister, and the male seemed to be truly in love with her.

“He left me Mat.” she sobbed “he left, he left, he left.”

Elena and Matthias understood that it was better that they stayed with her through that hard time- and thankfully their old house was big enough for everyone.

In the following week, though, Elena noticed weird behaviour coming from Celine. It was stuff that she excused and blamed to her broken heart- but Elena as a healer knew better than that.

Her sudden mood swings, bone aches and belly pains.

Her growing habit of throwing up every. single. morning.

Her random cravings for food combinations that others would consider repulsing.

Elena knew what all of this meant.

So one night, she approached Celine softly, while she was once again throwing up.

“Celine dear- are you aware of what this-“ she tried but was interrupted.

“please don’t say it” Celine begged, her tired expression and red cheeks evident. “please I- i can’t do this without him”

“You have us” Elena promised “You have me and your brother. I- We promise to be by your side through every step, if you decide to go forward with the pregnancy. The choice is up to you”

Celina started silently crying again, on the first ever acknowledgment of the life growing inside her.

Of the memory she and Rhys had shared.

Of the thoughts that had been haunting her ever since she understood what her morning sickness meant.

Had he known? Was that why he left her? Left them?

She cried more and more as she realised she’d have to go through it on her own and- oh gods.

Each time she and Rhys were intimate, he had his wings wide spread. They hadn’t made love with his wings vanished since before the proposal.

What if the baby had wings.

Would that rip her open?

There was no way she was so damned.

No way she had to endure the pain of Rhys leaving her- only for a few months till their child turned out to be the end of her.

And the months passed and passed.

Celine was so thankful for Elena and Matthias, as they kept true to their word and stayed with her through it all.

Elena, the healer she was, announced that the baby indeed had wings- and pointed out the obvious challenge because of this, but promised ti do her best during birth.

It wasn’t a really happy pregnancy, since she was still mourning the life she was supposed to have with Rhys.

Supposed to love this child, together.

And finally, labor day came.

There were screams, and wails, and broken pleas, as she was ripped open, due to the child’s wings.

There was blood- so, so much of it.

The child was finally out, wailing in the same was its mother was, as she was being stitched by her sister in law.

She remembers her brother’s cries as they nearly lost her. As this nearly cost her life. It was then she’d realised, that even if Rhys did come back one day, she’d never forgive him for this- never forgive him for making her go through all this on her own.

But all her anger vanished as Elena placed a tiny baby boy on her chest.

“Congratulations” she smiled at her “You did great”

“Have you decided on a name for him?” Matthias asked, admiring the baby, who was now in the hands of his mother.

Celine looked down at her son, and finally after months of pain, felt at peace.

“Nyx” tears rolled down her beautiful face.

“His name is Nyx”

~

Taglist: @weekendlusting @sheblogs @nyctophiliiiiaaa

@fanttasttica @byyalady

Finally posted this, I really hope you all like it❤️

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist xx

[scorpioriesling]

Enchanted

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Rhysand x reader

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Every birthday girl makes a wish... yours has been the same for years. One you began to doubt would ever come true; but what happens when it does?

SR’s Note: I am honestly giggling and kicking my feet over this one, and lately Rhys hasn't even been my favorite... I don't care. I like how this turned out. Based on Enchanted by Taylor Swift, of course. Enjoy (:

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Everything about the final day of Autumn was as it usually was; the cool sun bathing the Velaris cobblestone in light, the crisp breeze ruffling your hair, causing you to pull your cloak tighter around your shoulders. Even the townsfolk presented the same familiar faces you’d seen nearly every day now on your way to the public library.

Today was a treat; the day before your birthday, of course. The first day of the Winter season would mark the day of your birth, and usually you’d spend the day before spoiling yourself as you’d usually end up having to work on said birthday. This year, it was no different.

That is, before two large Illyrian warriors donning seven gleaming siphons each landed right in the middle of the square, their enormous bat wings spread wide. The townspeople, as well as yourself, whirled in shock at the sight. After straightening, the taller one (Cassian? You thought?) cleared his throat.

“Greetings, Velaris,” he said, voice echoing down every corridor and alleyway around you. Every wide-eyed fae stared back in awe as he looked from person to person.

“As you know, the High Lord will be having his annual Winter Ball tomorrow evening,” he continued. You’d known; it was an annual tradition. One you’d always ended up working as the bakery your parents owned supplied the delicacies for the event.

“…andddd this year, the High Lord has made it very clear that the celebration is to be extended.” He coughs. Gasps and murmurs begin around you, and you glance side to side as chatter begins.

“The ballroom cannot accommodate all of Velaris; so only a select few will be receiving invitations.” The spymaster calmly cuts in, and the chattering crowd around you stops. All eyes return to the pair in the middle of the street.

“The festivities are to be celebrated here in the city, though, should you not attend the ball,” Cassian fumbles. His brother raises his eyebrows, releasing a breath and gazing at the crowd once more.

“If you’re to be invited; you should expect to receive an invitation in your mailbox by this afternoon.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

You practically jumped on the mail man when he approached your drive, scaring him half to death as his letters tumbled from his hands.

“I’m so sorry! I’m, um… just, really hoping something came for me today.” You laugh sheepishly as he thrusts a pile of letters into your hands.

“Yeah, you and every other female in Velaris.” He continues on his route with a hmmph, and you begin anxiously thumbing through the letters.

You almost trip when you finally make it back into your small flat, sitting at the kitchen table. Your hand shakes as you get to the last envelope in the pile, only one elegant word written across the front of it.

Y/N.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

“I don’t know if that’s the right… I don’t know, color?” Your best friend eyes you in the mirror, and you twist to one side, meeting her eyes in the mirror.

“Maybe not. I don’t know, it’s just not quite… right.” She says, the statement only a repetition of how your morning’s been going. You’ve spent the entire morning trying to find a gown for the ball tonight, but every single one you’ve tried just isn’t quite… the one.

You let out a frustrated sigh, and your friend / shop owner flits toward a wall of dresses, brushing through them once more.

“I feel like I’ve tried on a million,” you say. She returns just a moment later, a lovely steel silver gown in hand. You raise your brows at her.

“Yes, but, it’d be dress one million and one that might catch the High Lord’s attention.” You can’t help but blush, turning from her. It was no secret you found the High Lord of the Night Court quite intriguing; Gods, half of Prythian did.

She tsked at you and shooed you towards the dressing chamber, only for you to reappear a moment later in the gown. She didn’t hide back the gasp, or stunned expression on her face as you approached the mirror to look yourself.

“Oh come now, it can’t be…” But, it was. Seeing it in the reflection, you understood her reaction a little more. You were breathtaking; this one. It had to be this one.

You spend a good few minutes twirling, admiring the gown hugging you in all the right places. You finally glance down at the price tag, and your heart sinks. It was way too expensive.

“I don’t think I can…” You say. Your friend shakes her head, leading you back to the dressing room to change.

“Nonsense.” She says. You stare at her, a blank expression on your face.

“I can’t afford it.” You say. She only winks at you before shutting the chamber curtain, allowing you privacy.

“Consider it a birthday gift!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

You'd never been to one of these before; not coming from a wealthy family, or even being High Fae yourself, there was never any reason to attend such an event held by Night Court royalty.

Yet, here you stood. In front of the polished black gate, separating you from the awaiting festivities inside.

"Uhh.. miss?" You turn, to see another guest had silently approached at your side. "Are you going in?"

You nod. "Yes! Yes, I'm sorry if I held you up-" He shakes his head, a small smile offerred to you as the gates open and he steps beyond. He looks over his shoulder to you.

"No worries... but, I think it's beginning soon?" You hear the groaning of the iron bars and quickly step inside, keeping in step with this new aquiantence. You politely converse until you've reached the main building, and females in lovely gowns pass by you. You nervously look around; maybe you should've prepared better for this.

"I'll see you around," with a small wave, your company stalks off toward a group of males he seems to know. You sigh, taking in the beauty around you. The gleaming faelights, all of the attendees meandering around you, the scent of jasmine in the air-

"I personally want to thank you all for your attendance tonight," you hear, and the room is instantly filled with silence. All eyes are peering toward the front of the room, and the crowd shuffles together to hear the speaker more clearly. You try and get a good look, but you can't really see over everyone's heads.

"I haven't had one of these events in a while where I get to invite our court's friends to join us, and as this marks the first night of Winter," the voice drawls. It sounds lovely, as though it was coming from a cello - deep and smooth. Not like the sounds from Azriel or Cassian, but this one was much different.

"...we are very happy you're all here. So, let the dancing commence!" And with that, the crowd is in a frenzy, chattering and partnering off for the first dance of the evening. Your cheeks heat in embarassment as you realize you have no one to dance with, and you recede towards the stone wall to hide in the shadows for this one. You feel a light hand on your elbow, and you whirl around to come face-to-face with the kind male from earlier.

"I don't have a partner either..." He says, his cheeks flushing rosey-pink. You give him a soft smile, your embarassment fading with every passing second.

"I'd love to dance with you." You slide your hand into his and pull him to the middle of the crowd, just as the music begins. His hand rests on your lower back, the cold metal ring on his finger sending a chill up your spine. You suck in a breath as he pulls you closer to his chest.

"Is this... alright?" He asks. You nod, resting your free hand on his shoulder. Now that you're close to him, you get a better view of his face; his sharp jaw, auburn freckles dusting over his nose. His sultry amber eyes that match the flaming locks upon his head; he truly is beautiful.

But not the reason you came tonight.

He engages in polite conversation as you continue the waltz, asking you about yourself, laughing and making light jokes with you inbetween the spinning and dipping as the music intensifies. You laugh with him, appreciating him more and more by the minute. When he's turned you around, his back to the dias at the head of the room, you swear you meet those violet eyes, staring right back at you. Maybe you're just thinking wishfully, maybe... maybe he is just looking at everyone, but he looked irritated, besides the sweet sentiment he'd made before.

You have to look away, your partner realizing you're staring.

"Is, everything okay?" He politely asks you. You nod, reassuring him everything was. But it wasn't. You were living in this moment; the music, the liveliness of the room, the way you were pushed so close with this male's hand on your waist-

But it still wasn't who you wanted.

You wanted him.

His hands on you. Your body against him. His eyes looking into yours.

You felt like a fool for thinking that coming here would change anything for you.

"I, uhm," your partner fumbles for words to distract you. "I didn't catch your name?" He asks. You meet his gaze, smiling again at him. You knew the High Lord wouldn't need or want you, so you may as well make the most of your night while it lasts.

"Y/N," you reply. He grins.

"What a lovely name," he tucks a flyaway tendril of hair behind your ear, eyes catching when it is exposed. He immediately sees it is rounded; and shame courses through you again as you know he is High Fae.

He clears his throat. "What a beautiful name," he reiterates. "...for a beautiful girl." You can't help but blush at his words, this male is laying the flirting on you thick. Doing quite well at that, too.

"Why thank you," you say, voice feeling small. You didn't register that the song had already changed, your bodies abseltmindedly falling into rhythm as you continue to sway with the music.

"I should probably relieve you from me," he says, dipping his head and huffing a small smirk. "Had I known who you were, I would have let you dance with someone else. I'm sure Rhys will have my ass for this anyway," he concludes. You furrow a brow, as the song engages in the final chorus.

"Whatever do you mean?" You ask. He opens his mouth to answer, but clapping erupts and conversations get too loud around you. What was he even talking about? You'd never met the High Lord, not officially, anyway. Maybe in passing, but there was nothing there.

Suddenly the room feels too small, too warm, his hand on your back feels like fire and you feel like you are sweating. You could pass out, you just needed a minute to breathe and get out of this crowded room.

"I have to um," you shout, over the loud conversing around you. "I need a breath of air!" You say. He nods, and pulls you close, hands still holding yours.

"Do you want me to come with you?" He politely asks. You lean back, meeting his eyes and shake your head.

"I'll be fine!" You say loudly. He nods, and you lean up and kiss his cheek. "I'll find you later?" You say, and he grins at you. What a cutie.

You search for an exit, clammy hands brushing the sides of your skirts. You find an open doorway, and travel down a side hall that leads to an unmarked door. Chest tight, you open it -- revealing the most wonderful sight you've ever seen.

You step out onto the stone terrace, walking all the way to the railed edge to get the best view. You let out a gasp; you can see all of Velaris from here. Soft music echoes from beyond, and you watch as a single shooting star stretches across the sky.

"This is, my favorite place to see the whole city too." You turn abruptly, not realizing someone had followed you. You stare in shock as Rhysand leans against the open doorway, arms folded, and one ankle crossed over the other. You immediately get embarassed again, remembering this is his building and his terrace and you were out here without permission-

"No need to worry, darling." He strides over to you, and you feel a tiny tickling inside your head. Your fingers brush your temple on instinct, and you remember that he could in fact see what you were thinking.

"Enjoying the ball?" He asks, his silky tenor causing your attempt to clear your mind to fail. You huff, turning back to the city beyond. He puts his hands on the balcony railing next to you, one hand nearly brushing yours.

"Oh! Um... yes. Yes I have been." Your mind flashes to the dances you'd shared with the readhead, how he held you, and how you'd wished it was Rhys the whole time...

Clear your mind, Cauldron! He could easily see what you were thinking.

"That's... great." His sudden clipped tone had you side-eyeing him. The night seemed to radiate off of him, the onyx crown atop his head gleaming in the moonlight. He was definately intimidating, but you remembered what your new friend said. Did you even catch his name? No. You were too focused on the High Lord, though this other man was nothing but nice to you.

Cauldron, boil you.

"Can I ask you something?" You say. He angles his head to you, a small smirk pulling the corner of his lips up.

"You'd like to know why I asked you here tonight?" He answers. You gape at him, and he chuckles, the sound like soft rain outside an open window.

"How did you-" You begin, and he turns to you, a hand tracing his knucles down the side of your face. You flush at the contact, as this was something you'd only ever hope for in a dream.

"This... is something we can work on later." He looks at the top of your head, the idea of mind shielding grazing your brain.

Has he been inside your head this whole time?

You almost feel violated; if it was anyone but him, you'd tell them to leave you be. But... you couldn't. He was finally here, with you -- but, you can't help from a little bit of your attitude peeking through.

"If you wanted me here so damn bad, whatever the reason may be," you start, pulling back an inch from his touch. His brows raise in amusement. "Why were you pouting about in there? I didn't even see you dance once." You finish. His gaze softens, and his free hand brushes yours on the railing. The hand that once grazed your cheek is now gliding down your arm, tracing over every inch of exposed skin.

"The partner I wanted was already taken." He answers lowly. You don't miss the way his eyes darken a bit, and you bite the inside of your cheek hard to try and stop from freaking out and dissolving into a puddle right then and there.

"Well..." You begin, taking one step closer to him. The soft scent of sea salt and nectarines graces your nose -- of course, one of your favorites. His gaze stays locked on you, drinking in every inch of you with his eyes.

"I'm not now." You say, as confidently as you can muster. His lips twist, trying to supress the huge smile he eventually allows to take over his face. You can't help but smile back; his gorgeous features only more enticing up close. His hand slips around the curve of your waist, pulling you in closer. Your breath catches, as his other hand guides your idle ones to his neck.

"I've waited much too long for this," he says. You are sure you look like a tomato; there was no way he was fawning over you like this. The way you'd done, every night in your room; every day in Velaris, constant reminders of him all over the city; every year when you'd use your bithday wish just to see him, just once -- and there he would be, waltzing into your parents shop before the ball as if he wasn't reducing you to mush each time.

"I'm not very good," he admits with a small laugh. You don't know what the hell comes over you, but you don't allow him enough time to read your mind before the words are spilling out-

"I don't need good. I need you." You take the lead, swaying to the distant music from the walls beyond and streets below, and he only follows. Its his turn to feel flattered, as his hands gently trail up and down your waist. You try your best to keep from shaking in excitement; but it isn't long before you see another star flying across the sky. He glances in your line of sight, grinning and letting one hand go of you. He takes the gleaming onyx crown off his head, replacing it atop yours, tucked behind the brained crown near the top.

You stare at him wide eyed as he pulls your body flush with his, leaning in to whisper, "I'm enchanted to finally meet you," as his soft lips lightly graze the shell of your ear. You can't help but let out a small chuckle, not knowing if you are going to cry or not. You could; you'd only wished for this very thing for years and years.

"You truly are a princess," he drawls on, fingers tracing your jaw lightly. His gaze flicks to the star trailing across the sky, and back to you once more. "One that still needs to make her birthday wish."

Your hands play with the soft hair near the nape of his neck, eyes loving the way he practically wills your mouth to his. It's like there is a thread, a rope connecting the two of you, and he is using his end to pull you closer, closer...

He finally kisses you, softly cupping your jaw as your hands slide down his chest. Pressed against him like this, that rope feels more like a threat tied so tight, golden aura coming from deep within you at the scene around you. He slowly pulls back, eyes searching yours for reassurance. You only reach up and swipe a tear away from his cheek, the new feeling connecting the two of you reassurance enough.

"I don't have one this year; it has already come true."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

[lidiasloca]

can i please request a drabble with cassian where he gets reader pregnant when they’re young, like in their 20’s and she wants to keep it a secret from everyone else except rhys and az, they’re all raising the kid together in their little group and they move to velaris later when rhys becomes the HL and cass becomes his general🥰

you and cassian are young parents

cassian x reader

fluff

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

“You take the cake!” you yell whisper to Cassian, both of you filled with nervousness and excitement for your little girl’s birthday. “Hurry, she’s coming!”

“Okay, okay,” he says as he takes the colorful cake from your hands. But when he does, something in your face makes him stop and lean to give you a peck on the cheek. “It’s alright, love. Everything is perfect. She’ll love it.” 

You sigh in relief. Cassian, no matter how juvenile and stupid might be most of the time, especially if he is with the youngsters of his brothers, is a very patient and wise male. You appreciate that at every single turn. 

“And, do not smile at me like that,” he adds with his teasing tone, acting flustered. “It’s our daughter’s birthday. Behave.”

“Oh - shut up, you!”

But there is no time to put him in his place. Uncle Az is carrying your daughter Mirella into the room. Her eyes held such excitement and joy, your heart swells with happiness. 

Cassian caresses your back before walking to Mirella and placing the cake in front of her. “Happy Birthday, dove.”

You walk to them then, seeing Rhys sneaking in from behind, a big present in his hands. You cannot stop smiling. Seeing this, your family. Everything so simple. So perfect. 

It hadn’t always been this easy. You remember when you first found out you were pregnant. You were so young and felt so alone and lost. But Cassian had been there for you. Every single moment. 

He held your hand, he listened to you, to your heart and your feelings. And he supported you, no matter what you chose. 

And you felt like the bravest and most fearless girl in the world next to him. 

Hadn’t been for the support of Cassian, Rhys and Azriel, your life would have turned out very differently.

Life, you think, is very odd. The male you were scared to tell you were pregnant is now singing happy birthday to your daughter with overjoy in his face. The friends you though would judge you and see you differently, are now looking down at your daughter like if she was their own daughter. 

How could you have ever doubted them? 

Azriel, who begged you time with Mircella to play swords. Who loved to make her giggle with his shadows. Who defended her from imaginary monsters she would only confess to him she was afraid of. Only because she somehow knew he would understand, he wouldn’t judge.

Rhys, who, even after becoming a busy High Lord, tried to spend with her some time every day. Telling her stories of amazing heroes, such as him and his brothers. He spent nights telling how brave both her father and mother.

And Cassian, who felled in love again the moment he set his eyes on his baby daughter’s for the first time. Who looked at your daughter as if she was the solemn motive to his existence. Like he would burn the world to make her safe. Who would give her the world to make her smile. 

And here you are now. 

“Blow, Mirella,” you say tenderly. She gives you a wide smile before turning to the candles and blowing. “Happy birthday, dove,” you whisper. 

-Characters by Sarah J Maas

anon, hope it is sort of what you asked for, even if i took the story into my own hands a bit. i loved the ideaa. cassian would make such good father. and azriel and ryhs would be the funniest uncles in all the courts. emmm this aint proof read, as usually, so sorry if there are any typos. thanku for reading loves :))

[lovemyromance]

why are we acting like it's such a crazy idea that the Elucien mating bond is fake/wrong or that Elain might have 2 bonds??

Evidence:

Elain& Lucien literally don't act like any other mates we have seen in ACOTAR. They avoid each other like 99% of the time (by choice). And no, I'm sorry, but shrinking away from Lucien and flat out leaving the room when he's there is NOT the same as Feyre throwing a shoe at Rhys and Nesta kicking Cassian in the balls. There's a thin line between love and hate, but there's an ocean of indifference. Feyre & Nesta were not *uncomfortable* around Rhys & Cassian. Elain is uncomfortable around Lucien. Feyre/Nesta could not stay away from their mates- literally Nesta avoided Cassian for a grand total of 30 pages maybe. Elucien vs Feysand/Nessian is NOT the same.

SJM has already written a pairing where both people were "given to another", thought to have a mating bond with someone else that turned out to be fake. Then they ended up being "true mates" i.e. this isn't something Elriels just made up. SJM has literally done it before with Rowan & Aelin. She didn't care much for being a "fated mates" author when she broke up Rowan and Lydia, did she?

Feyre questions the bond between Elucien twice. She even suggests "Why not make them mates" in regards to Azriel & Elain. Let me be crystal clear when I say this: Feyre saw Nesta hissing and spitting at Cassian for 3 books before they got together and not once did Feyre ever question the Nessian bond. Sure she didn't *know* for sure they were mates, but I'm sure she suspected enough. She did not once hesitate to leave Cassian with Nesta.

In the ACOTAR world, SJM has made it clear not all mates were love matches. If every "fated mates" couple was meant to be an eternal, beautiful bond of love - then why did she write Rhys's & Tamlin's parents as being mates that despised each other? If every single mating bond in the. ACOTAR universe was happily mated and in love, then I wouldn't be arguing against the Elucien bond. But they're not. If SJM believed that all fated mates are living in happily ever after - why did she write about the cauldron not pairing people up for love but for powerful offspring? Why did she write about Rhys & Tamlin's parents? You can't say SJM is a fated mates author and all fated mates end up happy and in love if that is not the case, even in the same series.

SJM has tweeted back in like 2017 about how it's possible for someone to have two mates

It's literally all there in the text. No deep analysis needed, no "omg I think this shadow over this leaf means that Elain and azriel are foreshadowed" crazy reaches. simply picking up what SJM has already put down. She is painstakingly building Elriel brick by brick in the background, and if you don't realize it until the house is built, that's on you bestie. Not Elriels. Not SJM.

[throneofsapphics]

Hi, how are you? I wanted to do it and ask for it from Nyx, where it comes home with a different smell.

busybodies

Summary: Nyx tries to hide his partner.

Warnings: mentions of drinking

A/N: thank you for the request! this is actually how I picture that going

Nyx knew he couldn’t hide anything from his parents, not in his current state, and didn’t bother trying. Instead, he avoided eye contact, and headed straight to his room. He’d spent a night out in Velaris, disguising himself as best as possible, and winnowed back to the River Estate, still wearing off some of the whiskey. He’d kept his partner separate from his family on purpose, because even if they were just supposed to meet his parents the entire inner circle would show up, and likely leave him single again. 

Less than an hour later, his uncle knocked on the door. Only a courtesy, considering he barged right in anyways with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Up to no good?” Cassian asked, leaning back against the door, arms crossed over his chest. 

“None of your business.” Nyx snapped. He raised his brows, as if to say it’s everyone’s business. It isn’t, but the entire inner circle makes everything their business. 

“Are they pretty?” 

Nyx glared at him, apparently harsh enough because Cassian walked backwards out the door, hands held up in a placating way. 

-

“When do we get to meet them?” Feyre asked casually at dinner, taking a sip of her wine to hide her smile. Her son glared at her, and she didn’t need to test to know his mental shields were perfectly intact. They’d never invade his privacy like that without good reason, and she’d already told Rhys several times that this was not a good enough reason. 

“Don’t ignore your mother,” Rhys chastised. 

Nyx huffed, and narrowed his eyes at both of them. “Never, at this rate.” 

Feyre chuckled, and returned to her dinner. Cassian still had a grin on his face, and she had a sense the unlucky soul might end up with a visit from the General, considering her son hadn’t even bothered to try and disguise his scent.

[rhysazriel]

Meet Me in the Copy Room [CEO!Rhysand]

SUMMARY: Rhysand is Y/N’s boss but he likes his secretary more than he should. (10.8k)

WARNINGS: teasing, swearing, kissing, smut; dirty talk, fingering, oral (both receiving and face sitting), protected sex, multiple orgasms

A/N: this is a fic from my other account that I no longer use, I changed some bits around for it to fit Rhys' character after an anon had requested it!! Also, this is a Modern AU bc Rhys’ vibe screams CEO hehe

Y/N has worked in many places before Velaris LTD. She was a waitress for a brief few months when she was in college at a diner near her dorm. She was also a librarian for six months and a part-time barista in the cafe down the street from her parents home. 

She’s done her share in retail and even a year working in the bank, but as of recent, the past seven months, she’s been employed by Velaris LTD, one of the worlds finest trading companies.

She’s no longer assigned a God awful uniform, nor does she have to converse with the general public and adhere to the customers' every need. No. Now, Y/N has her own little office area with a big reception desk with her own phone and separate line across her boss’ office. 

Now, she has her own computer and a little fax machine and she wears heels with pencil skirts and pretty blouses.

Given, she’s a secretary, but an important one at that. She’s not the kind of secretary that runs pointless errands and gets her boss coffee while adhering to their every beck and call. She arranges meetings in the most elite of clubs and restaurants. She files the reports she’s meant to and she handles his schedule and phone calls. 

He may be the CEO, but Y/N is the one behind closed doors that ensures everything runs as smoothly as it does.

And sure, Rhysand is the literal face and name of his damn company and he should ideally hire someone to run the damn business for him, but he’s also narcissistic and refuses whenever it’s brought up to let another man or woman run his business for him. 

Maybe that’s what she likes so much about her job. That he doesn’t trust anyone to be by his side except her.

It’s something she’s struggled to understand for the longest time. She’s three years younger than him, barely just turned twenty-six, yet he chose to hire her over all the other highly-qualified applicants. 

She hasn’t complained about it, would never. Her job is too good. As his personal secretary, her monthly wage is what four months at the diner used to get her. And don’t get her started on the other perks her position offers.

She’s thankful, and she makes that very clear in every opportunity she gets. She didn’t know Rhysand before she got the job, and if she’s completely honest, she’d never ever heard of him. 

She expected him to be some stuck up prick that didn’t respect women and only cared for his company and business. She was proven incredibly wrong at her interview when he made her a cup of tea and asked inclusive questions her previous employers didn’t care to think of.

Within three weeks of having the job, she’d learned more about him than the colleagues that have worked for him since the beginning of his firm. And she doesn’t mean things like how he takes his coffee and his favourite places to go for lunch. She means she knows what laundry detergent he can’t use because it irritates his skin. 

She knows his mother and sister are the most important women to him, that he sometimes misses his mundane life working with his brothers. She knows the meanings behind almost every single tattoo he has and that while the press made him out to be a cheating womaniser when his fiancee left him two years ago, it was actually her that did the cheating and left him heartbroken.

She’s always wondered why Rhysand trusts her so much. She’s never given him a reason not to, and she never would, but it’s always been in the back of her mind. But then, she supposes she doesn’t know why Rhys does a lot of things that regard her. 

Like how, in the mornings, he brings her coffee on his way past her desk. How he always insists he delivers paperwork to her himself and softly apologises for how much she has to file away. 

Or how he’ll send her cheeky emails from his personal about how annoying Gerione is when she tries to flirt with him. And on more than one occasion, she’s noticed him leaning in his chair to get a peek at her through the window of his office; craning his neck up to see her past the high wall of her reception-like desk.

She doesn’t say anything to him, though. She supposes he’s trying to sneakily check in on her to make sure she’s actually doing the work. Y/N knows she’s not the youngest to work for Velaris LTD, but she is the youngest to be fully employed and not as an intern. 

She’s faced ageism within the company since her first day. She’s either babied by the mothers of the company, or criticised and borderline bullied by the ones a few years older and higher up. She hasn’t much let it get to her, though. She figures she’s clearly a valuable asset if the company is still running and Rhysand still wants her by his side.

Today feels no different from any other. She gets to work at 7:45 AM, a sleepy smile on her lips as she greets Amora at the front desk. He smiles through tightly pursed lips and quickly avoids her gaze, greeting another worker with a high-pitched laugh and kissing their cheek. 

Y/N keeps walking, doesn’t let herself dwell and makes for the elevator. She’s alone until she gets up to the twelfth floor and the keycard clipped to her pencil skirt is gently patting against the left side of her lower tummy.

She doesn’t let her eyes take in her appearance as she walks past the floor-to-ceiling mirror that encompasses an entire 15-foot long wall. She knows her ponytail is tight enough and that her shirt is probably a little wonky because her bag that rests on her shoulder is tugging at the collar of it. 

She also doesn’t let herself look to her right because she doesn’t think she has the energy to pretend to ignore the snickers and grimaces from a few of the thirteenth-floor girls this morning.

Instead, Y/N rounds the corner and gets comfortable behind her desk. Her bag is tucked underneath it and her fingers make quick work of logging onto her computer and getting started for the day. Rhysand’s office is directly opposite her, thin windows either side of the tall door and from her seat, she can see his empty desk and a gorgeous view of the city.

It’s exactly 8 AM when Rhysand greets her with her morning coffee. He’s dressed in his usual slick black suit with a charming smile on those pink lips. Y/N would be lying if she said she’s never thought about her boss in more than a professional way. She’s thought about him in many different scenarios where he has her in many different positions.

“Good morning, Rhysand,” she greets him softly, a gentle smile on her plump lips. 

That was another thing that took her a while to get the hang of. Rhys doesn’t like to be referred to by his last name. The first time she greeted him as such, he waved it off and insisted she called him Rhysand or Rhys. 

It’s been months since she even thought of his last time… to the point where every time she sees it on some paperwork, she struggles to pair it with him.

Rhys takes his time every morning to admire her and her outfit of the day. He’s thoroughly pleased about the tight blouse and many open buttons at the top that offer the delicious view of the swell of her perky tits.

He averts his gaze with another charming grin, and can feel his trousers slowly begin to tighten as he places her coffee on her desk. “Morning, darling. How did you sleep?” he asks, always taking a few minutes out of his morning to make sure she feels okay and slept well the night before.

Rhysand’s never really known himself why he purposely goes out of his way to ask her these things. He doesn’t bother to do much with any other of his workers, nor his previous personal secretaries. 

He tells himself it’s because she’s young and new, so he wants to make sure she feels as comfortable and as included as he can. But she’s only three years younger than him and she’s been working for him for over a year.

He needs to stop feeding himself that same bullshit excuse.

Y/N gleams a pretty smile and leans forward with her elbows on the desk, subsequently pressing her tits together deliciously. Rhysand licks his lips, eyeing up her chest before gazing back at her pretty smile again. But it doesn’t go unnoticed and it stirs something that oozes confidence inside her.

She tilts her head a little, a hint of something mischievous in her eyes but Rhys doesn’t notice. Figures she’s too innocent to catch on to his somewhat advances, but little does he know. 

“Slept okay, it’s just really hot in my house lately… I need to speak with my landlord about getting a new AC fitted or I’ll be stuck sleeping naked until further notice,” she tells him through a seemingly innocent sigh, shrugging her shoulders and as hard as Rhysand tries to hide his bulging eyes, she catches them, along with the bulging in his pants.

He raises his brows in amusement and a lopsided grin pulls at the corners of his pink lips. He tilts his head like she did. “Do you only sleep naked when your air con is broken? Thought that’s something people living alone normally did? Freeing and all. I do it,” he shrugs his shoulders. He’s subtly prying, trying to learn if she still lives alone in that cutsey townhouse just twenty minutes away, or if she’s got a man on the scene.

He watches the apples of her cheeks twitch and he wonders if she’s imagining him sleeping naked. She is. He smirks to himself at the thought of what she must be mustering up in that pretty little head of hers. 

It’s nothing new between the two; occasional flirting and topics that definitely should not be discussed between a boss and his secretary. He likes to watch her squirm and splutter and innocently reply in a way that has blood rushing to his cock. 

He’s always observed her closely during these types of interactions, knows how to read her body language. He’s come to learn when she feels uncomfortable, and she’s never shown any signs of discomfort during said topics.

“And it would be freeing if I didn’t have a friend staying with me that often forgets to knock on my bedroom door before storming in,” she chuckles dryly, wondering if her words would rile him up or not. 

She doesn’t know why they would. 

She figures it’s all just harmless banter between the two; a little bit of flirtatious teasing to loosen them up when things get a little stressy. She’s dead certain someone as successful as him would never actually want anything romantic with his fucking assistant.

His brows raise higher than before, can feel his hand ball into tightly clenched fists and he clears his throat, gritting his teeth behind a hard smile. “Oh? You’ve got a friend staying with you?” he asks in a soft tone that doesn’t suggest he’s pissy that her friend gets to see her naked and between her sheets. 

He wonders what else she does naked between the sheets in the dead of night when she can’t sleep. 

She nods, soft hum verberating in her closed mouth as she types something quickly on her computer. “Yeah, he just broke up with his girlfriend so he’s staying at mine until he can get his stuff out and move into the new flat he’s found.” She watches him inhale a shaky breath through his flared nostrils and avert his gaze to the wall behind her.

She’s got a glimmer of a smirk on her lips, eyes light and playful but he doesn’t notice that. Rhysand’s too caught up with the newfound knowledge that it’s a male friend that’s walking in on her naked. 

She wonders if he’s imagining her naked in bed… or maybe entertaining the idea of her fucking her friend one night when he walks in on her. She thinks that might be it but it doesn’t explain why he looks royally pissed… dare she say; jealous?

She tilts her head when he looks back down at her, jaw still set and he clears his throat, seemingly trying to cool himself down. His elbows are bent as his forearms rest on the top of his desk, his back arched just slightly. 

“Not got anyone else he can stay with? What did they break up for?” he pushes further, hopes she’ll turn around and say it’s because he realised he’s gay. She doesn’t.

Instead, Y/N shrugs her shoulders and her elbow leans on the desk, her chin sitting in the palm of her hands as she gazes up at him leaning on the second level of her station. 

“Things weren’t working, he didn’t wanna be tied down just yet. Wanted to have a bit of fun before settling.” She can see the gears in his head turn and tick away as he hums absentmindedly.

She tries not to squint at him, to gauge his reaction and decipher what the meaning behind his distant gaze is. She tries not to look too closely into his blushing cheeks and set jaw. She tries not to let herself fantasise about him being jealous and wanting her to himself. She tries, but it doesn’t work.

Rhysand hums, nodding as if he gets it and maybe he does. She knows all about his one night stands and sleepless nights at the strip clubs he frequents. She also knows about the countless booty calls that tend to frequent his office, only for him to ask her to call security to escort the women out. 

And she absolutely should not find great joy in watching them huff as security links their beefy arms in their dainty ones, but she does.

Y/N thinks she keeps that secret to herself, but more times than not, Rhysand’s seen the hint of a smirk tug at the corner of her lips when he leans on the doorframe of his office. He knows she doesn’t notice him watching her, he likes knowing she thinks he doesn’t see things. He sees it all.

“Well hopefully he’ll be out of your hair soon enough,” he proposes and she has a sneaky suspicion that he’s subtly asking how long he’ll be staying with her. Which is exactly what he’s doing. Y/N hums again and shrugs her shoulders. 

“Actually, I don’t mind him being there, I quite enjoy the company. Gets a bit lonely in the evenings sometimes, to be honest,” she baits.

She watches with a small smirk as Rhys inhales a deep and hollow breath, bowing his head a little so his chin almost rests against his black tie, his jaw knocking against his shirt collar. She doesn’t know where this sudden confidence is coming from. Can she even call it confidence? She isn’t flirting, just baiting him to gauge his reactions.

“Don’t fancy going out with your girlfriends?” He tries to steer away from the topic of other men in her life, but Y/N isn’t finished just yet. 

“Sometimes, on the weekends, sure. But it gets a bit annoying when guys don’t know how to take a hint and keep trying to hit on you all night,” she sighs in fake annoyance and she’s certain she sees red flash through Rhysand’s eyes.

She lets herself think he’s jealous, protective. The thought of her boss thinking of her in a sexual manner and hating the idea of other men being in her home or hitting on her is exciting. It’s a thrilling rush of blood that causes tingles between her thighs and has her pressing them together beneath her desk.

Rhysand’s none the wiser. His fists clench at the image of another man dancing up her but his cock bloats at the thought of her dancing on a night out. No doubt in a short and tight dress. He knows tonight he’ll let himself think he can feel the swell of her ass rubbing against his crotch, let himself think he can taste her lips on his tongue.

He doesn’t say anything else and Y/N thinks he’s thoroughly fucked in his head. “Well, I’ve emailed over your schedule for the morning. Have a good day, Rhys.”

//

Through the rest of the morning, Rhysand struggles to focus on anything that isn’t her. He’s had two conference calls and for both video meetings from his office, he’s been leaned over in his chair with a strained neck, trying to catch sight of what she’s doing at her desk through the thin window in his door. 

He was more than thankful when the calls ended because when she sat on her knees on her chair and leaned over the top of the desk, her tits almost spilled out of her blouse and Rhysand spent the rest of the hour sporting a rock hard boner.

He thinks she’s doing it on purpose when she comes into him after her lunch break. She’s taken her hair out of her ponytail and it falls in loose waves down her shoulders. 

She enters his office with her hands full of paperwork that just so happen to stop beneath the swell of her breasts so they’re able to sit on the pile; all perky and swollen. She’s got a shy smirk on her lips, too. Like she knows she’s taking her end of the teasing a little further and she lets out a little huff of relief after she plops them onto his desk.

Rhys doesn’t try to hide his stare on her chest and she wonders if he catches her staring at the thick bulge in his pants. Neither parties say anything to the other but as their eyes meet, it’s like an unspoken understanding is pieced together. 

A silent acknowledgement that they both know what the other is doing and that they’re more than okay with it. Like all lines between them are completely blurred and any boundaries are ready to be pushed aside.

He watches her hips sway as she leaves his office, closing the door behind her when she leaves. His neck cranes again as he leans to his side in his swivel chair, watching her type something on her computer through the window again. 

Her brows are furrowed softly as she stands and rounds her desk, meeting his gaze through the thin glass and walking past his office completely. He tries to watch her but she disappears from his line of sight and an email pings through his laptop.

Y/N: Meet me in the copy room.

He’s leaping out of his chair before he can even push himself away from his desk. His strides are long and quick as he rips his office door open and slams it closed behind him. He clears his throat and avoids the gaze of his employees, ignores the ogling looks he earns from the women he knows touch themselves to the thought of him late at night.

Rhysand sneaks his way into the copy room, kicking the door closed behind him. She stands in front of him, leaning against the copier with a flirtatiously shy smile. He reaches blindly behind him and twists the lock, his bottom lip taut between his teeth as he ogles her shamelessly. She feels shy under his gaze, knowing he doesn’t care to hide how attracted he is to her.

She doesn’t have time to feel awkward or rake her brain for something to say because he’s rushing toward her and with both large hands caressing her cheeks, his lips are smearing against hers. 

Y/N reaches up and tangles her fingers in his messily styled hair, twisting the curls and tugging softly. His hands leave her face in desperation as they pinch at her hips before rounding her body and squeezing deliciously at her ass.

She tastes like strawberries; her tongue swirling against his. His mind is swimming and all he wants to do is taste her little honey pot, wants to know if she tastes as sweet down there as she does on her tongue. 

She’s no better. His tongue works skilfully against her, licking into her warm mouth and nibbling softly at her bottom lip. She can’t help but suckle filthily on his tongue, wishing to God she was on her knees as he fucks her mouth.

Both of their minds are hazy; like everything they feel is overwhelming and yet not enough all at once. Y/N feels the pulsing between her thighs, can feel her little lace panties soaking up her arousal and Rhysand’s cock is painfully hard in his pants—knows his tip is fucking leaking and no doubt a delicious purple shade.

“God, I‘ve been wanting to do this for so long,” he admits gruffly into her mouth, grabbing handfuls of her ass over her skirt but it’s too tight for him to spread her cheeks like he fucking needs to. 

Y/N whimpers into his mouth and he hikes her up and onto the desk, just beside the copier machine. He rolls her skirt up her thighs until it’s bunched tightly around her waist. Her clothed pussy sits against the cold wood and she shudders, tugging him between her spread legs.

“Why didn’t you?” She breathes heavily into the kiss. 

His hands are gripping at her thighs; the cool metal of his rings sending chills through her body and she’s desperately stripping him from his suit jacket. He groans, hands rushing back up to her face to cup her jaw while he struggles to fight against her to keep his jacket on. 

He kisses her lips and pulls away, mind foggy but he wants to take his time with her, not have a quick fuck in the copy room and never again after that.

“Didn’t know if you wanted it, too,” he breathes, warm breath fanning across her lips and she reaches up blindly to kiss him again. Her eyes are hooded, lips swollen, and Rhysand’s fucked at the sight of her. 

“I do want to, if it wasn’t already obvious,” she groans shyly, a heavy heat sitting on her cheeks and he chuckles, ego inflating as his cock pulses in his pants.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby,” he promises and her eyes light up before she lets him finish his sentence. “But not here, not now. I want to take my time with you,” he rumbles through his chest, cupping her cheeks again and Y/N pouts breathlessly, her once confident demeanour slowly shifting and she feels a little small under his gaze.

“Fuck me now and take your time with me later,” she bargains, not even the slightest bit ashamed of how forward and desperate she’s letting herself seem. 

He’s no better. The second the words slip from her lips, he’s kissing her again; harder than before. It’s desperate; needy and raw. His fingers are tugging her shirt down and her breasts spill over and out of her bra.

Y/N’s head falls back as he tweaks a taut nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and twisting as he continues his assault down her lean neck. She’s letting breathy whimpers slip past her lips as her head rolls against her shoulder. Y/N scratches at his back, tugging off his suit jacket and he throws it across the boxed room.

Rhys dips his head from her neck, kissing across her clavicle and nipping at her collarbones. He massages hungry open-mouthed kisses across the swell of her tits, circling her pearled nipple with his skilled tongue and she shudders as he envelopes his lips around it, suckling softly and flicking his tongue.

“Rhys,” she breathes in a wanton pant. 

He feels his cock bloat at the sound of his name slipping past her lips in a desperate whimper. Hearing her shudder his name as he latches on her nipple is something he didn’t know he needed to hear.

“Best tits I‘ve ever seen,” he mumbles as he pulls off her with a kiss to her areola, biting at her cleavage. 

Y/N’s fingers are desperately fumbling with his tie, tugging it loose and popping open a few buttons. Rhysand doesn’t give her the time or chance to open more than two before he’s shoving her tiny lace panties to the side and swirling his middle finger through her dripping folds.

Rhys groans at the feel of her; soft and warm, completely fucking drenched. The tip of his finger teases at her hole, swirling around her soaked folds but she wants more, needs it. He seems to sense her desperation because, without a second longer of anticipation, he pushes his finger in and massages at her squishy walls.

He splutters pathetically against her chest, his grip on her hip tightening as he slowly pumps his digit in and out of her dripping heat. 

“Oh shit, you’re so tight,” he groans, completely fucking mesmerised by the way her little pussy is clenching onto him. 

He wonders if his cock will even fit. She shudders breathlessly, thighs willing to clench shut but he doesn’t let them.

His fingers are much longer than hers; hitting deeper than she’s ever able to in the dead of night when she can’t sleep. Her head falls back and Rhysand latches his lips onto her neck, pulling out so his fingertip rests at her hole before he lunges back in with a second digit.

They’re twisting in a ‘come hither’ motion, pads of his fingertips massaging at her squishy spot and she’s quivering and trembling under his touch. Her clit feels like it’s on fire, angry and desperate from the neglect it’s facing so she sneaks a hand between their bodies, holding her weight on one arm as she leans back, and offers herself a pinch of relief.

It’s a filthy fucking sight for Rhys to be privy to; watching her little fingers rub deliciously at her soaked, swollen clit. He’s painfully hard but fuck, he wants to see her cum all over his hand before he releases his bloated cock. 

“Fuck, Rhysand… oh shit,” she’s gasping frantically, legs twitching and toes curling.

He can’t help but wonder how long it’s been since someone last touched her this good. He’s only had his hands on her for a couple of minutes and he can feel how close she is to her tipping point, how badly she needs to explode. He wonders if he’s about to make her cum harder than she ever has before.

She’s getting loud, too vocal for them to get away with the quick rendezvous they’re playing at. It’s when he tests the waters and scissors his fingers before picking up his pace that she falls uncontrollable with the desperate cries and filthy whines. 

He has no other choice than to shove her until her back is pressed against the desk and he’s leaning over her trembling body to press a hand over her mouth.

Y/N’s muffled moans vibrate against his palm and he watches the delicious sight with a deep hunger in his eyes. His teeth are gritted, breaths and grunts seething between them at the sight of her tits bouncing across her chest. 

“Cum, gonna cum!” he hears her muffled voice beg into his hand, a smug grin tugging helplessly at the corners of his lips and he coaxes it out of her.

“That’s it, baby. Cum for me. Gonna cum all over my fingers like a good girl? My good girl?” he spurs her on, eyes rolling at the sensation of her tiny pussy spasming around his thick fingers and fuck, he’s sure he’s about to cum in his pants over it.

Y/N thrashes against the table, chasing her high as he finger fucks her through it. The sounds are obscene; muffled pleas and filthy squelching noises that sound from her messy cunt.

He slows his pace and lets her calm from her orgasm, nosing through her chest and he smears his parted lips across her tits, his tongue sitting on his bottom lip as he does so. Rhysand suckles gently on her pearled nipple as he moves his hand from her mouth and she’s tangling her fingers in his hair, deep breaths causing her chest to ripple.

Y/N’s eyes are fluttering, dazed and overwhelmed and they both know her legs are still trembling in the after-shock. She’s still desperate, though – inhibitions out the window and she no longer wants to play coy or hard to get. She wants his cock and she wants it shoved so deep inside of her that she won’t be able to walk for weeks.

“Please,” she murmurs through half-lidded eyes. Rhys’ brows furrow gently as he pulls off her chest, licking his lips and trying to chase her wanton gaze. When he finally does, he notices just how flushed and fucked she is. He’s a little taken back, if he’s honest. He knows the effect he has on women in the bedroom, but none quite like this for a quick fingerbang in the copy room.

Rhysand reaches for her face, cupping her jaw in his palm and she finally meets his eyes. She’s blinking back rose-tinted hues of arousal to try and see him clearer, but even when her vision isn’t stained with lust, he still looks ravishing and it’s painful.

“Please, what, Miss Y/L/N?” he teases.

Rhysand’s got a sick grin on his face at the way her entire body shudders at his tone and choice of words. She’s a whimpering mess again but he’s barely got his hands on her – one on her hip and the other cupping her jaw. 

“Use your words,” he coaxes. Her lashes flutter angelically across her cheekbones and her lips blabber open and closed like a helpless fish out of water.

“Fuck, need you inside of me. Want your cock.” Y/N’s shuddering at her own choice of words. She’s always loved a bit of dirty talk but not once has it ever really come into play with past partners and if she’s honest, she feels way too shy and filthy. But she fucking loves it.

She loves the way he takes a deep breath – the way he growls to himself to try and fix his composure. She thinks he’s about to give into her, pound her raw and have her sobbing for more, baby, please, I need more! But what she gets is the complete opposite.

Rhysand’s lips hover over her ear, nosing at her neck on his way up before he’s nibbling his way across her jaw until his lips ghost hers.

“Not when you’re so fucked out, Princess. Let me come home with you tonight, back to your place. I’ll be your company,” he nips at her bottom lip, nosing at her jaw again and her head flutters back for a moment, eyes rolling. 

“My place? But my – my friend is there…” she trails off breathlessly, struggling to keep her grip on reality when Rhys begins to suck a bruise against her neck.

He pulls away with a sly grin, eyes hooded and dark and her lashes flutter as she drinks him in. He reaches forward and nips at her bottom lip again. “I know.”

//

She’s nervous as she climbs into his car. He insisted he drive them home and back to work tomorrow morning, which means he plans on staying the night and Y/N is not opposed to that in the slightest. 

But her nerves are getting the best of her when he reaches across the console and lets his hand rest on her thigh, squeezing generously and gnawing on his own bottom lip.

Her mind is working so hard on overdrive that she can’t even focus on one thing to worry about. Rhysand on the other hand, has one thing on his mind and one thing only. Her. 

Excitement is rushing through his veins and he’s sure he can hear his heartbeat in his ears. Blood is rushing to his thick cock and all he can think about is her sweet pussy and how it’ll taste when he has her sitting on his face; the only seat she’ll ever want and need.

They make it to her townhouse in no time and she’s clambering out of the car before he has the chance to switch the engine off. He knows she’s just as nervous as she is excited but he doesn’t say anything on the matter – at least, not yet. 

He follows her up the steps to the door, arms shaking around her waist and he kisses across the exposed expanse of her neck, flicking his tongue over the fresh bruise that’s darkened as the day dwindled on.

Neither of them seem to care that it’s still partly daylight and wandering eyes are no doubt watching on with sickening glances and judgemental stares. Y/N struggles to unlock the front door, too busy trying not to roll her head back in pleasure and anticipation. She loosens up a little as he licks wet stripes up her neck, nibbling on the tender skin and the second the door is open, he’s pinning her against it as it slams shut behind them.

His mouth is on her neck, suckling and licking his way up to her jaw, nipping at the curved edge before he licks across the shell of her ear. “Gonna have you dripping on my cock and screaming in my mouth, Princess,” he promises. His tone is dirty, dark and raspy and Y/N’s thinks she’s ready to submit to absolutely anything he fucking wants.

She’s pathetic, really – nodding frantically – eager to please. She doesn’t make an effort to hurry them to her bedroom. She’s too caught in the moment Rhysand thinks he wants to have her friend catch her being fucked roughly against her front door, let him know she’s already being treated as good as it fucking gets.

“Please, Rhys. Need it so bad, please,” she blabbers wetly. 

He kisses her quickly; hot and sticky. Their tongues are dancing a frantic rhythm but their lips still manage to mould and fit like puzzle pieces. Rhysand’s hands are hot on her waist, trailing up her body until he cups beneath the swell of her pretty tits.

“Please, what? What do you need, my love?” he coaxes, suckling on her bottom lip and she’s got half a mind to push him to his knees and hike her thighs over his shoulders. But she doesn’t have the will power or the guts and she’d much rather him dominate the absolute shit out of her.

His demeaning tone has her shaking – nimble fingers trying to tug and claw at the expensive blazer of his suit. She doesn’t know if it excites or frustrates him, but it does spur him on to tear her pretty blouse open and rip her bra in two. 

He ignores her shriek of shock and latches his wet mouth to her tit, sucking her hardened nipple between his lips and rolling his tongue across it.

Y/N’s head rolls back and knocks against the front door, wanton whimpers and yelps shrieking from her throat. Rhysand spares no expense – he’s grunting and moaning, coursing vibrations and shrills through her body that has her pulsing core blazing. She feels like she’s on fire and Rhysand feels like a starving man that’s finally about to eat a three course meal.

First, he’ll make her cum with his fingers. Then with his cock. And for dessert, he’ll have her on his face while he laps up everything else she has to offer. But Rhys doesn’t take into consideration that maybe she wants to taste him, too.

“Need your cock in my mouth.”

The filthy admission takes him back and for a split second, he’s stunned. Rhys halts his attack on her chest and leans back to get a proper look at her. Y/N’s eyes are blazing a fiery red, one that screams need and touch. She’s fucked, utterly. Messy hair and smeared lip gloss across the lower half of her face.

His own eyes are hooded as he watches her very slowly slide down the door. Her knees are bending and he knows what’s coming, what she’s trying to do. Rhysand has half a mind to stop her, to remind her who’s in charge and that he just wants to taste her, to make her feel good. 

The other half tells him to tear out her hair band and hold her hair and head in place with his fist, tells him to let her stuff her mouth with his length by the front door and pray and hope her friend just so happens to be home.

Her shaky hands are unbuckling his belt, tugging down his zipper. Her knees hit the entrance carpet and she reaches back behind her to tug her hair completely loose from her elastic. Rhysand watches, chin meeting his chest, as she massages out the kinks before throwing it over her shoulder.

He can’t stop staring at her as she tugs his pants down just enough to palm over the thick and hard bulge in his boxers. He makes no effort to bite back a grunt and the soft whine that follows. Rhys’ eyes are on her but she’s got her gaze focussed on his clothed cock.

Y/N leans forward, nosing at his thick length. Her mouth is parted; bottom lip dragging a wet strip across the expensive, cotton material as she makes her way up for the little strip of thin hairs that dust down to his sweet spot. When she gets to the top of the elastic, her tongue slips from her mouth and a bold, wet stripe is licked fatly up to his bellybutton.

She feels him shudder, hands on the fronts of his thighs and they creep up to the waistband of his boxers. Rhysand’s got one hand tangled in her hair, blunt nails scratching at her scalp and the other is leaning against her front door, supporting his crushing weight up.

“Are you gonna take all of me, baby?” he coaxes. 

Spit begins to well in her mouth as she tugs his boxers down and she’s finally face to face with her boss’ thick, long cock. He’s massive, that much she’s certain of and the way his tip glistens an angry pink proves he’s just as eager as she is. She wonders if he’s been as hard since the copy room earlier today.

Rhysand’s tugging at her hair, trying to get her to focus on the situation at hand rather than ogling at his cock. He usually wouldn’t mind, but right now he’s far too desperate to be lodged down her warm throat to think about anything else. His cock twitches as it slaps at his lower abdomen, leaving damp trails of precum in his tip’s wake.

It’s standing tall when Y/N leans forward on her knees. She’s got her palms bracing her weight on his thick thighs and her tongue sits on her bottom lip, licking a bold and wide strip up the entire eight inches of his thick length. Rhysand’s grunting when her tongue swirls around his head before she’s suckling the soft flesh into her mouth.

Her cheeks are softly hollowed and gentle hums of approval sound around him at the salty taste that sits heady on her tongue. Her lips are stretched around his puffy head, the actual width of him nearly choking her but fuck, if she doesn’t love it with every ounce of her dirty little soul.

She’s got those innocent doe eyes staring up at him while she suckles on his length. Relaxing her throat to take him a little deeper, Y/N pumps in a firm fist what she can’t fit; twisting her wrist. 

Rhys can’t keep his fucking eyes off her – puffy lips swollen and stretched and if he sees another dribble of saliva drip from her lips and down the valley of her tits, he’s gonna cum straight down her throat.

“Fuck, such a good mouth. So fucking good, Princess,” he goads. 

He’s gnawing hard on his bottom lip, mouth salivating at the sight of his pretty little secretary on her knees with her mouth stuffed with his cock. Rhysand can’t help his ego from inflating when she lets him guide his hips until he hits the back of her throat, choking her lightly and she splutters around his length.

It’s filthy – the noises her mouth and his cock are making – but Rhysand’s living for it. Pools and dribbles of saliva and precum are spilling and bubbling from the corners of her mouth and the swells of her tits are soaked from it alone. She’s comfy on her knees now and takes her free hand from his thigh to tug his pants and boxers down further.

She’s picked up her pace, sucking harder and fisting the few inches she can’t take. Y/N’s hand snakes further down and reaches around a little until she’s cupping and massaging his aching balls, coaxing the release she knows he’s about to give her. His taste is getting saltier on her tongue and his hips are staggering with each gentle thrust he offers into her throat.

Rhys’ grip on her hair is hard and tight, knuckles bumping at her skull as he tries to drill her head closer to him, to force more of him down her throat. As much as she tries to relax herself, she can’t take him all and she wants nothing more than to bury her nose in the short hairs that lead from his bellybutton to his shaft.

“Such a good girl for me. Sucking me so fucking well, gonna cum,” he warns and praises the young woman and she comes off him with a frantic gasp. 

Her eyes are watering and his cock is soaked, but that doesn’t stop her from spitting the rest of his arousal on his length and pumping him as quickly as she can.

She’s got that confidence about her again as she focuses on his tip, fisting both hands around his throbbing cock as she smears her swollen lips across his sensitive head. She smacks it against her tongue, offering hollow sucks to guide him over the edge.

Rhys’ got his forehead resting against the door and he’s grunting and groaning, biting back animalistic moans. He can’t wrap his head around it, the most sloppy and incredible blowjob he’s ever had. 

“Wanna taste it. Cum, Rhysand,” she whines greedily, one hand leaving his cock to tear her blouse open just enough for her tits to spill out of it. “Cum all over my tits, baby.”

His orgasm washes over him with a heady grunt and hot spurts of white ribbons that smother her tits perfectly. She’s standing on her knees, using the tip of his aching cock as a paintbrush to smear his cum across her lustful chest. He’s smashing his head against the door, trying to blink away the orgasmic-bliss he’s been thrown in and take a grip of reality again.

When he finally looks down at her, stepping back a little from the door, he’s panting and twitching and she’s licking her lips clean. Y/N’s got that innocent sparkle sitting in her eyes again. Rhysand has to shake his head and let out an exasperated laugh. He’s smoothing down her tangled and matted hair and guiding her back to her feet.

“So fucking sexy,” he groans when he takes note of her cum-smothered tits. 

His lips are smearing against hers greedily, and there’s something so exciting and erotic about tasting himself on her sweet tongue. Her hands are soaked and sticky but she still tangles them in his hair to kiss him harder.

She’s too fucking horny to feel shy or embarrassed about what she’s just done against her front door. “Gonna fuck me now? Thought you promised me you’d fuck me with your cock?” she whispers tauntingly against his lips and he grins, still completely fucked out.

Even though he’s painfully hard again, he doesn’t have it in him to sheath himself in her tight little cunt just yet. He’s got stamina, but his poor cock can’t recover from a blinding orgasm like that too quickly. He nods, hands on her ass and he’s groping like a starved man. 

“And I will, Princess. But you got a taste of me, it’s only fair I get a taste of you, don’t you think?” he teases.

She’s putty in his hands, though – nodding breathlessly as her nose bumps his. She can feel his hard cock against her middle and he gives her pert ass a spank, enticing a high whine from her raw lips. 

“Suppose you better show me to your room then, my love… unless you want your friend to come and watch?” he offers, like he wouldn’t be opposed in the slightest.

If Rhysand’s honest, maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d gladly let her friend watch him absolutely ruin her tight cunt.

“Put your cock in your pants,” she breathes, the firm order doing nothing but coaxing dribbles of precum from his dick. He shoves himself back in his boxers but makes no attempt to button up his trousers while she covers her chest again.

Y/N’s got her hand in his as she leads him up the steps of her townhouse, hips swaying more than usual and Rhysand knows, but he’s too horny to tease her for it. All he can think about is having that ass sat on his face and he’s salivating at the thought of her taste.

He doesn’t take in the decor on the walls or the frilly rug on the floor of the hall. He doesn’t even take in the style of her bedroom when she shoves him inside and kicks the door closed. Rhysand, instead, is too busy tearing her blouse open and ignoring the buttons skidding across her oak floors.

She’s no better, eager to get him naked and claw at his tattooed chest. They’re both naked in seconds, hands all over the other in a desperate attempt to get off. She’s guiding him to her bed, tits in his face and he paws at her breasts as she straddles his lap. She expects him to pin her down, to devour her little cunt but he doesn’t.

He kisses her lips and grips her thighs – laying on his back with his head on her pillow and tugging her up his body and she starts to get the hint when she stops on his chest. Rhysand’s frowning, kneading at her thighs and jutting his chin in the air a little.

“Told you I wanted a taste, now come and sit on your throne, Princess.” She’s giddy with excitement and arousal, head cloudy and she lets him guide her up the rest of his body. 

Her entire pussy is slick and swollen when her knees rest either side of his head. He loops his arms around her legs and rests his hands on her ass, squeezing and massaging her cheeks.

“Fucking look at you, baby. So wet and so soft,” he coos, craning his head up to suck bruises on her thighs. Y/N’s got her fingers tangled in his messy dark locks and when he spreads her ass apart, she falls a little and her soaked cunt sits on his face.

Rhysand’s mouth wastes no time, sucking and licking and nibbling at her hole and clit. He’s swirling wet strokes through her folds, deep and long. Her sweet scent is heavy on his tongue and he’s got his eyes squeezed shut in pure bliss. Y/N is a mess above him – head thrown back and fingers tugging at his unruly locks.

“Oh my God,” she whines, breathing erratically but Rhysand’s having the time of his life. 

She shudders as he brings a hand down on her ass, her meaty flesh jiggling before he’s grabbing it again and pulling her apart and further up his face. He’s got a knot in his brow, tongue circling at her weeping hole and he can’t get enough of her taste.

“So good, so fucking good. Don’t stop,” she begs, desperate and eager. 

Rhys lets his tongue trail up the length of her pussy until the flatness of his tongue is rubbing at her swollen clit, enticing moan after filthy moan to slip from her silky tongue. He wraps his mouth around her little nub, sucking and nibbling and she’s seeing stars.

Y/N can’t seem to catch her breath and she’s rolling her hips on his face like she fucking owns him. Rhysand comes off her clit with a little pop, open-mouthed kisses smeared over her dripping cunt and he sucks a swollen lip into his mouth, biting teasingly and she gasps into the dim room.

Her nipples have puckered in the cool air and one hand leaves his head to tweak and pinch at one of the neglected nubs. She’s trembling on his face, thighs clenching around his head as he kneads and spanks at her ass. Rhysand’s grunting deliciously into her cunt, sending vibrations through the woman’s core and egging her on.

He knows she’s close, knew he wouldn’t have to be between her thighs for too long after she came so quickly from his fingers earlier in the copy room, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t gladly spend hours devouring her. She’s sweet – sweeter than he hoped and expected – and it’s better than any feeling he’s ever had before. Sweet like watermelon with a tangy hint.

It’s fucking intoxicating and when she cums, it only tastes better. “I’m cuming, oh shit, oh God…” Y/N can’t think straight. 

Her vision is blinding by streaking light that blocks her sight and the wanton and borderline pornographic moans are music to Rhysand’s ears. She’s shaking, body jolting and when Rhys opens his eyes to watch her unravel on his tongue, all he sees is her head rolling back and the underswell of her tits bouncing before her back coils and she hunches into herself.

He’s lapping her of every single last drop she has, desperate to have her taste lingering on his tongue for as long as he possibly can. His cock is overly bloated and sticky as precum sticks to his lower abdomen but maybe his ego is even more bloated, knowing he didn’t even have to use his fingers to get her quivering and begging above him.

“Fuck,” she gasps in a slow drawl. 

Her voice is deep and raspy, like she’s seething as she tries to catch her breath and stop the shakes from taking over in her post-orgasmic state. Rhysand’s kitten licking her softly, moving his head to bite playfully at the thickness of her inner thighs and he traces over a soft, faded stretch mark with his tongue.

“Sweetest fucking pussy I‘ve ever tasted,” he groans in approval. 

Rhys maneuvers them both so she’s pressed against the mattress, and even in her fucked-out, overly-blissed state, she’s still whining and eager for his cock again. She’s insatiable and Rhysand can’t help the amused chuckle that slips from his lips.

“So fucking desperate, Princess,” he taunts.

He takes a moment to admire her, take her all in. Her pussy is swollen, soaked still and he can almost see her clit pulsing as her hole clenches. Her chest is rattling in deep breaths and her eyes are lidded heavily as she creeps her foot up his thigh, reaching for his hard cock.

He hums appreciatively, spreading her bent knees open and crawling between her legs again. He’s got a hand resting by her head to support his weight – the other gripping her chin in his hold and he forces her mouth open as he lets saliva well in his mouth.

She gets the hint, knows what he’s about to do and she’s desperate to get a taste of herself from him. Y/N’s tongue falls out flat on her bottom lip, eyes a little wider and she holds his firm gaze when he spits on her tongue and forces her mouth closed again. 

The sweetness of her arousal is heavy in her mouth and she swallows what he offered before her lips part again and her tongue is licking up at his stubbly chin, reaching for his lips.

Rhysand’s eyes are blazing, dick twitching against her thigh and he kisses her hard, teeth clashing and tongues dancing an uncoordinated rhythm, but it works. Y/N suckles on his tongue as he groans, pinching at her nipple before he reaches down to palm his cock some.

“Need to get a condom,” he breathes into her mouth but she’s shaking her head. He leaves his cock and reaches for her cunt, attending to her fiery clit that’s far too sensitive but she welcomes the touch, nonetheless. 

“Wanna feel you,” she admits, no shame in the embarrassingly desperate statement and Rhysand thinks he’s about to fucking explode on her cunt before he even gets a proper feel of it.

He wants to, needs to feel her slick and velvety walls hug and suck him in, wants to be consumed by her heat and arousal but even in his lust-filled state, his brain is still turned on. He shakes his head painfully. 

“Next time,” he offers, doesn’t miss the way Y/N’s eyes light up at the insinuation but she nods with a desperate, laboured breath.

She reaches to her side for her nightstand, retrieving a foil packet from the top drawer and she rips it open with her teeth before Rhysand can take it from her. His eyes are wide when she tugs it from the packaging and reaches down for his cock. She pinches the tip of the condom and rolls it over his thick head, sliding it slick down his shaft and he’s grunting in pleasure over the act.

“Fuck. You’re so sexy,” he mutters gruffly against her lips and she whimpers, eyes rolling back at the sheer tone of his voice. Her legs are spread wide as he reaches for his cock and rubs himself up and down her folds a few times.

Y/N’s giddy with excitement, pussy clenching in anticipation and he slowly rolls his hips forward, his fat tip nudging through the tight entrance ring of her pussy and she shudders a gentle shriek at the obvious intrusion.

“Oh, fuck!” she gasps out. 

Her chest is already heaving when he begins to sheath himself in, spreading her wide and drilling in deep. Y/N’s eyes have rolled to the back of her head and her toes have curled inwardly and just how much he’s filling her up.

Rhysand’s no better – teeth gritted and eyes clenched shut. His grip on her hips have his knuckles turning white but neither of them seem to mind the bruises that’ll be apparent in the morning. She’s tight around him, warm and slick and even with the condom, he can feel every pulse her pussy offers.

Rhys rolls his hips slowly, getting her used to his thick girth and generous length. Y/N’s clawing at his shoulders with each soft whine until his pace begins to pick up and the bed starts to rock. Her tits are bouncing on her chest, nipples hard and desperate for a good sucking.

He manoeuvres his body to lean his head down, biting on her hard nub and sucking. “Shit, you’re so fucking big, oh my God,” she praises through a strangled moan. He’s snapping his hips, grunting and smirking against her slobbery tits. 

His tongue is flicking over her nipple in quick strokes as his teeth bite softly but she’s keening at the blissful shoots of pain.

“Tight pussy, baby. Tightest fucking pussy I‘ve ever had.” He pops off her breast and smears his lips against hers. 

She can still taste him on her tongue and the feel of his lips on hers is overwhelming. His thick cock is brushing against all the good spots and she can’t wrap her head around how sex could ever feel this good.

“Faster, please, faster. Just like that,” she begs out through another broken moan. He’s seething through gritted teeth as he wills back his animalistic grunts, drills his hips in quicker thrusts and the wet squelches of his cock and her pussy is music to both of their ears.

“Hear that? Hear how fucking wet you are?” he teases, leaning back and shuffling until he’s on his knees between her quaking thighs. “Fuck, you fit me so fucking good, Princess.” He’s gnawing down on his bottom lip, likely drawing blood but he can’t bring himself to care.

Y/N’s got her head thrown back in her pillows, eyes rolled to the back of her head as her lashes flutter like angel wings. “This cunt was fucking made for me,” he growls through gritted teeth as he releases his lower lip. She’s nodding helplessly at his words, crying out in pure ecstasy at the filth he’s talking and she fucking loves it.

“All yours, Rhys. Pussy’s all yours,” she agrees quickly. 

Her voice is broken, high pitched and whiney. Rhysand thinks it’s borderline pornographic and it only makes his cock throb in her cunt. “Fuck,” he seethes, watching the way her full breasts bounce on her chest.

He lets his gaze avert to where they meet – where his thick cock is drilling into her cunt and fucking her into the mattress. He’s completely slick with every thrust that has his dick pulling out of her. His balls are slapping against her ass, slick with her wetness that leaks from her tight hole and even both their thighs are growing sticky from her arousal and their sweat.

Between them, they’re eager messes, desperate for a hot release and it’s haunting the both of them. Rhysand can feel her cunt clench tenderly around him and Y/N can feel his cock twitching between her soft walls. 

“Fuck, can feel you squeezing me baby, making you feel good, Princess?” He knows he’s making her feel fucking heavenly but the narcassist in him needs to hear that bit of praise.

She’s nodding frantically, eager to give him what he wants to hear. “Yes, fuck, yes! So good, Rhys. I love your cock, makes me feel so fucking full.” She’s moaning through every word, sentence broken by wanton cries and pornographic whines. She’s fucking filthy, dribble running down the corners of her lips as she speaks.

Rhysand’s fucked, can feel his release toppling close to the edge but he needs to feel her cum around him first. “Yeah? You like me buried in your tight little cunt, my love? Like feeling me in your fucking tummy?” He sets a firm palm across her stomach, adding just enough pressure to feel himself nudge at her lower abdomen and his head is spinning.

“More, please. I’m gonna fucking cum, Rhys. Make me cum on your cock, make me cum, please.” She’s begging through desperate tears and Rhysand’s ego is through the fucking roof. His eyes are rolling back at the sound of her broken pleads and he leans closer.

He’s got one hand holding his weight by her head, the other locking around her throat. He watches for a moment, still pounding into her, to see if she tells him to stop, tells him she doesn’t like that. But she reaches up and tightens his hold on her throat and her other hand snakes between them to rub feverishly at her swollen clit.

“Harder,” she demands, voice steady and dark and there’s a primal instinct that washes over Rhysand that tells him to fucking obliterate her. He’s choking her as his cock tears into her, weeping in the condom and Y/N’s sobbing beneath him.

Her thighs begin to tremble, eyes rolled right back and she feels like she’s floating. “I’m cuming! Rhys, I’m gonna cum!” Her body convulses under his touch and waves of bliss roll over her. She’s cumming around his cock, shaking and sobbing and whining like a dirty little girl and Rhysand’s living for it.

He fucks her through her state of bliss, grip still tight on her throat until he feels her calm down and he’s ready to explode. Even in her blissed out state, Y/N knows what she wants. She suckles on his thumb as he grips her jaw and takes her spare hand to push him back just enough to pull his cock out of her cunt.

With hooded eyes and swollen lips, she peels off the condom and tosses it to the side. Rhysand’s eyes are blown wide, brows knitted and even in her hazy state she can see how desperate his cock is for a relief.

He’s hissing when she wraps a hand around his wet length and lazily starts pumping his shaft. “If you can’t come in my pussy, I want your cum all over it.” His head falls back at the admission, cock twitching in her hand and it only takes a few futile pumps before she’s smearing his tip across her swollen clit and he’s cumming.

Hot ribbons of clear-ish cum paint her cunt, spilling across her folds and clit in desperate spurts. “Fuck, oh shit. So good, such a good fucking girl,” he’s praising in broken moans and wanton whines.

Y/N’s pussy clenches around nothing as she watches his thick cock slowly soften to one of a slightly smaller size. They’re both fucked out as Rhysand catches his breath and falls to her side, panting and heaving with a sweaty and heavy chest.

She can barely keep her eyes open, thighs still trembling from her post-orgasmic state and Rhysand’s trying to come to terms with what just happened. He’s too infatuated to scold himself for fucking a damn employee. For fucking his secretary.

He can hear her heavy breathing from beside her and he peeks a look, watching her eyes flutter as she stares up at her ceiling. He holds his breath in hopes of hearing any movement on the other side of the bedroom door but all he can hear is his heart hammering through his body.

He takes a heaving breath and looks back up at the ceiling. “You think your friend might’ve heard us?” He speaks up, breaking the silence. He hears her breath stagger and silence before she lets out an uneven sigh and he can feel her chest shaking.

Rhysand turns to her with pinched brows and she’s grinning with eyes squinted shut. “What? What are you laughing at?” She’s giggling again and Rhys sits up to get a better look at her. She’s thoroughly fucked out.

“I don’t have a friend staying with me,” she admits shyly through a broken laugh and it takes Rhysand a hot second to grasp onto what she’s just said. When he does, his eyes widen and jaw falls slack, smirk tugging on the corners of his parted lips.

Y/N turns to him, running a hand through his matted hair and she gnaws on her bottom lip, staring into his fucked out eyes. “Just wanted to try and get you in my bed,” she confesses.

They’re both grinning; Y/N letting out a squealed shriek as Rhysand pounces on top of her and pins her hands above her head, nosing and biting at her jaw and neck. His eyes are gleaming nothing but mischief as his nose knocks hers and he notices the fire in her eyes.

He nips at her lips. “You lied to me? To get me in your bed like I‘m some sort of cheap hooker?” He’s teasing her now and the banter has her stomach flipping. Y/N shrugs, feigning nonchalance, eyes blazing and she licks into his mouth. 

“Worked though, didn’t it?”

Rhysand pulls away from her lips just enough to see the look on her face. She’s shy under his gaze, innocent eyes staring up at him but there’s still that flash of filth and cheekiness that’s loitering behind them and when she gnaws on her bottom lip, Rhysand can’t help but feel completely fucked.

“You little minx.”

let me know what you thought!!

[highladyjane]

Love vs. Fate

ACOTAR foreshadowed the whole love triangle with this

Which I believe is the background for this part of this interview - where sure, Sarah may try to play things off:

But I find that interesting, because TOG's ending clearly said this (Kingdom of Ash, Ch.98)

And CC's ending said this (House of Flame and Shadow, Ch. 98)

So isn't it funny that all of SJM's books are all about defying Gods, Odds, and Fate through acts of True Love, aaaand people still think that Elain, Azriel, AND Lucien are just going to do what everyone and that corrupted Cauldron expects and tells them to do in the end because "Sarah's a fated mates author", and because that's what they've been doing their whole lives prior to encountering each other?

Can't people connect the dots and see the real pattern of her books? Because it's pretty frickin' obvious to me.

"What if the Cauldron was wrong?" is just the beginning of fighting for that HEA.

And I am sorry, not sorry, because as of ACOFAS, ACOSF, and the bonus chapters, there's not a single hint of Elain wanting to bridge the gap with her Cauldron-given mate... But rather a lot of her initiating the bridging of a gap between her and a certain Shadowsinger/Spymaster who confirms in his very own POV that he has feelings for her, but has been trying to stay away because he struggles with feelings of unworthiness - especially because a damned Cauldron gave her to another on top of that.

So if Elain's choosing anyone, it won't be because of any mating bond. No, Elain...

I may be primarily pro Elriel but I'm also pro-Lucien, so I want him to be happy too. I just think he deserves someone who readily wants and chooses him back, mating bond or not... So I am pretty sure he's asking the very same questions Az is asking. Sure, Elucien can still happen -there's just going to have to be a great deal of retconning, including ignoring all the build-up and crumbs Sarah has scattered throughout her books to make it feel unforced. But just like with Rhys' or Tamlin's etc. parents, not everyone accepting their mating bond is going to guarantee a HEA. And once Lucien finds out about his true parentage and the truth about the Cauldron, now that he's an exile with no High Lord to submit to... I'm pretty sure he's going to start finally fighting about what he truly thinks is right and his own freedom to choose and to love - something he didn't get to do for Jesminda. And no, it wouldn't be through a Blood Duel for a mate that was "thrown at him".

So there's no need for "I just want ______ to be happy" or "_____ doesn't deserve ______." Because none of these 3 are going to end up without a HEA in an SJM book where a character can barely stay dead for longer than 3 minutes.

[cressidagrey]

New Pursuits - Chapter 5: Hiking

Summary:

The shadows decide that Azriel needs a hobby.

5 times when said hobby-related shenanigans didn’t end so well…and the one time where it may end up better than Azriel could ever have imagined.

Warnings:

Rhys bashing, Death of a mythical Wolf, Skinning of the same, animal furs, Light injuries

(super pretty dividers thanks to @saradika)

To say that his next pursuit in search for a hobby went to absolute shit…well that was an understatement.

It started off well enough. 

Hiking, Master! The shadows suggested brightly. 

Hiking. He could do hiking. 

What was the worst thing that could happen?

Any specific place? He wondered. He fully expected them to suggest something outside Velairs…maybe somewhere near where Morrigan kept her country estate that she pretended none of them knew about. It was ridiculous. Of course, Azriel knew about that. 

The same way that he knew that Mor was never going to be interested in him and he had still yearned for her for fucking centuries even when he had known better. 

Sometimes he was just an absolute fool, was he not?

Why not Ramiel?

If he had been drinking, he would have spit it out. That was the last suggestion he had expected. Ramiel ? Had the shadows gone fucking insane? 

It’s beautiful there! And maybe this time we won’t need to kill stupid fucking idiots that think we don’t deserve to exist! 

So he gave in. Like an idiot. 

And the next time he had some free time… he went flying to Ramiel. 

You know I could just fly to the peak and be done, he told them drily. Why not. His wings weren’t bound. It wasn’t the fucking Blood Rite. 

He stood at the bottom of Ramiel, staring up at that fucking mountain that had nearly claimed his life once before. 

It was sacred. To Illyrians. To his people. Even when Azriel often didn’t claim them as his people. It was…even 5 centuries later, he still couldn’t manage to integrate both sides in his mind. 

There were the Camp Commanders who hated him for being a bastard, who treated the female worse than dirt, who hated everything different than them with a passion and would kill without thought. 

And then there were the Illyrians who only wanted to survive. There were good people between them. People like Rhys’ mother, like his mother, like the inhabitants of Rosehall…that had been treated so abhorrently and still, still trudged on and had made their own life with blood and sweat. That existed too. 

The babies that were born in warcamps never knew another way of life. He couldn’t fault them for what they did. Couldn’t…

He was Illyrian. From his temperament to his parents, the male that had supplied half for his creation…To the tips and claws of his wings and the marks on his chest and arms. To the status of Carynthian. 

Azriel was Illyrian. 

He couldn’t change that. He didn’t want to change that. 

But he would sometimes like to tear down the whole of all the warcamps with his bare hands…wanted to kill and slaughter every fucking male that had held down a female when she had her wings clipped…Wanted to protect all the children that would never learn another way of life than the cruel one. 

And still, there he was…at the bottom of Ramiel, craning his head up…because his shadows thought that he needed a hobby. And that hiking apparently was a hobby. 

That’s not the use behind hiking. You are supposed to clear your head, breathe in the scents…relax…become one with nature, the shadows told him seriously. 

He would have nearly done that…if nature hadn’t decided that he would make a perfect mid-afternoon snack. 

If all the other contestants in the Blood Rite weren’t out to kill each other…the wildlife took care of the rest. 

At least this time, Azriel had Truthteller…a single knife. That was more than he had had during the Blood Rite. 

And Truthteller always stroke true. 

Even against a Fenris. 

A Fenris, an Illyrian steppe wolf with fur the colour of pitch-black ink, long claws and razor-sharp teeth. 

Massive in size. 

He only died after his claws had destroyed Azriel’s jacket and scratched the hell out of him. 

It collapsed on top of him and Azriel cursed, climbing out from underneath that wolf, shaking out his wings and wincing when he could already feel the bruises blooming on his side. 

The Fenris’ blood was soaking the sacred ground of Ramiel, was soaking Azriel. 

He wanted to throw up. 

The feeling was visceral, shocking because he had a long time ago made his peace with that. Killing came naturally to him, like to seemingly every Illyrian. If it was a question about killing or be killed, Azriel was always going to chooose the first. His self-preservation instincts were very much intact. 

He also never had any problem with killing for food. He would only kill as much as he needed, when he needed and he did it so quickly, that the poor rabbits didn’t even have it in them to notice what was happening. 

This had been a kill for self-preservation. 

He had needed to make that kill. Otherwise, the Fenris would have killed him. 

But that wasn’t what was making him want to vomit. 

That was because of what he had just killed. 

The Fenris. 

There was a story there. 

Ancient as time. Probably the one “romantic” tale Illyrians had. If you could call killing another creature romantic. 

Azriel had never thought it to be. 

When Enalius, the greatest of Illyrian warriors had wanted to take a wife…he had killed a Fenris for her. The hide had been his wedding gift to his bride. 

In parts, the tradition still lived on.  Though it only very rarely was a Fenris hide these days. Too difficult to find. Too difficult to kill. 

And here Azriel was. With the dead body of that animal at his feet. 

Instincts took over as Azriel began to remove the hide…a bloody mess, with Truthteller soaking up the blood with its blade. 

He left the carcass for other animals to find, but he took the hide. 

He must have made quite the sight as he appeared in the nearest war camp, ignoring the screams and scattering of Illyrians, as he strode towards the tannery on the outskirts of the war camp. 

Azriel was quite sure that alone his sudden appearance, dripping with blood, was probably going to be enough to terrorise that particular war camp into behaving for the next few months... but oh well. One less headache for Cassian to deal with. 

He found that tannery with no problem, manned by some of the long-suffering Illyrian females.

The one thing he could give them was a couple of gold coins for their troubles as they took that massive black pelt to be tanned, staring at him with ill-concealed horror and…maybe something else, that he didn’t want to think too close at. 

They didn’t respect his job or that he worked for the High Lord but if he played *Who’s the better killer?* he was going to come out on top and they would respect that. 

Regardless of how much he hated it. 

I am done. No more hobbies outside, he told his shadows drily. I can’t even go on a hike without killing something. 

A few hours later, spent terrorising the camp lords with an unexpected inspection, later, he could pick up that massive black pelt…and go home to the House of Wind, get out of bloodsoaked leathers and take a shower…and probably survey the damage the Fenris had done to him. 

Namely blue and black bruised ribs and some sluggishly bleeding scratches…

He was cleaning up while sitting on the edge of the bathtub as the door was nearly ripped off his hinges. 

“Azriel!” 

“Ever heard of knocking?” he gave back with a sigh as Cassian entered the room. 

“Your bloody, ripped-apart leathers are all over your room,” his brother snapped, grasping his arm so that he could see the scratches himself. “What happened?” he demanded. 

“Don’t ask,” Azriel snorted. “Though I doubt that Carell or the entire Stonevale Camp is going to give you any troubles for the foreseeable future,” he muttered darkly.

“Is he still alive?” Cassian asked him. There was no judgement in his voice. Azriel knew that Cassian would trust him to have had a very good reason if he had killed him. 

“Not a hair on his head was harmed,” Azriel promised, reaching out for a towel with a grimace, before his shadows already grasped it and pressed it against the deepest wound on his shoulder. 

“That still doesn’t explain what happened to you,” Cassian said with a pointed look at the bruises blooming on his body. 

“I killed a Fenris,” Azriel answered truthfully. There was no reason to keep that a secret. Non whatsoever. 

Cassian was silent for a moment. 

“You killed a what ?” 

“Fenris,” Azriel repeated. “It decided that I would be a great afternoon snack.” 

“Did you go searching for it?” Cassian asked, his voice changing into something numb. Azriel just stared at him. 

“If you call searching for it, me climbing up Ramriel because apparently Hiking is a fun pastime that I should definitely try out...” he said, sarcasm bleeding from his voice. “No, Cassian, I did not go searching for it. Otherwise, I would have had more knives with me.”

Cassian stared at him for a moment. 

“Fuck.”

“Yes,” Azriel agreed. “Could you give me another towel please?” he requested and Cassian did just that, helping him to wrap it around himself as he carefully shuffled to put on new pants. He didn’t even bother with a top. He stretched his wings with a grimace, feeling them pull where he had gotten a few scratches on the thin membranes. 

“Here,” Cassian opened the bruise balm and Azriel let him smear it all over his side, hissing slightly. At least he didn’t need to do that to himself. That would suck even more. 

“Thanks,” he thanked his brother, who just shrugged. 

“You know…Rhys said you nearly bit off his head a few days ago,” Cassian said nearly conversationally.

He wanted to groan, but didn’t, instead limping from the bathing chamber to his room, where he threw a towel over the mess he had made off his floors. Cleaning that up was going to…

But then Cassian had already picked up his leathers and brought them back to the bathing chamber to at least get rid of the worst blood. 

“So let me guess, you are supposed to talk to me?” Azriel lifted his voice slightly as he sat down on the chair on his desk, staring at the hide. Now it was tanned, a process that went a little bit quicker if magic was involved. Massive, thick glossy black fur. He knew that if he wanted to sell it, he would get a small fortune for it. 

Not that he needed it. 

He had his own lines of credit. Rhys paid him very well for the job he did for him, and even if he decided that being a spymaster was no longer what he wanted to do…he wasn’t going to end up poor. 

The shadows took care of that . 

“Something like that,” Cassian agreed as he stepped out of the bathing chamber. “You’ll need to patch them,” he was informed, but Azriel just waved him off, as Cassian perched himself on the edge of his desk, staring at the fur that covered it. He reached out, looking at Azriel for permission. 

He just inclined his head. 

“I only asked Rhys to leave me alone,”  he gave back drily as Cassian touched the fur and examined it closely. 

It was pretty much perfect as far as Azriel could tell. 

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” Cassian asked him and Azriel just snorted. 

“Are you going to listen to me if I ask that of you?” he gave back with a sigh. 

“Probably not,” Cassian agreed. “So what’s going on? You know, other than you channelling bloody Enalius,” his brother teased him and something in Azriel loosened at that. 

He could have turned him away and said nothing but…he didn’t want to. 

Cassian could hear the truth…and besides it was on Rhys himself if Cassian got angry with him…and if he didn’t get angry, maybe at least then maybe Cassian would…understand. A little bit. 

“Don’t fly off the handle,” he warned Cassian, who sat up straighter. “Last Solstice, Rhys ordered me not to pursue Elain.” 

He hadn’t been sure what to expect. But the way Cassian’s face first went chalk white and then crimson with anger…that was not it. 

“He…” Cassian bit out but Azriel cut in before Cassian could do something ill thought out. Like flying straight to the River Estate and punching Rhys. 

“It’s fine ,” Azriel promised him. 

“How the fuck can you say that?!” Cassian snapped. “He…He ordered…He pulled rank on you and he…”

“It’s fine,” he repeated. “It’s over. She chose her mate. She chose Lucien. Elain is very happy. I would do nothing to put that in danger.” And he wouldn’t. “Maybe I am a fool but I don’t try to be an asshole, Cassian.” 

Cassian stared at him, broad hands still wrapped into the fur. “She chose Lucien because Rhys took you out of the equation,” Cassian said, his voice hoarse. “You don’t know if…”

“It doesn’t matter why she chose him,” Azriel cut him off. He didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t. “She chose him. And she doesn’t need to know about this.  Neither does Nesta. Or Feyre. Or Mor or Amren or anybody else,” he told Cassian pointedly. “It’s over. It’s fine. But I am really not in the mood to listen to Rhysand’s apologies .” 

“Az,“ Cassian said hoarsely. 

“It’s fine,”  he promised once again.

He was yanked into a tight hug by Cassian, broad arms enveloping him. 

“That wasn’t fair to you,” Cassian whispered. “It wasn’t fair.” Cassian’s wings trembled, like he didn’t know where to go with all of his anger and Azriel wondered if maybe he should have just stayed silent. 

“What are you going to do?” Cassian asked him as he let him go.  

“Nothing,”  Azriel answered honestly.  “I promised Rhys that I wasn’t going to kill Lucien. And in return, I requested that he was going to leave my private life alone.”

“Nothing?” Cassian repeated. 

He shrugged. 

“Maybe I’ll relieve our first century and fuck anything that has two legs and is willing,” he said, his voice quiet, staring at his hands for a moment. 

“Az,” Cassian said tightly. Azriel met his gaze. 

“I don’t have a mate, Cassian. I have no children.  It doesn’t matter to anybody but myself what I do,”  Azriel said pointedly. “If I want to…I can.” 

“Of course, you can,” Cassian agreed. “But we both know, that it won’t make you happy,” his brother pointed out. 

He was right. 

It would not. 

“Maybe it will,” Azriel disagreed with a shrug. “I never thought that I would enjoy wood carving or taking lavender salt baths either, but I do,” he said pointedly. 

“Lavender salt, really?” Cassian asked him with a snort.  

“How many hair products do you have?” Azriel shot back.  

Cassian startled. “I think you are thinking of the wrong brother,” he lobbed back quickly, before growing serious. “Why did Rhys do it?” he asked Azriel. 

“He had his political reasons,” Azriel said. “Didn’t want any more difficulties with Autumn or Day. Or a Blood Duel for that matter.” He could see it, even if he didn’t agree. 

Oh well. It didn’t matter now...not anymore. 

“I…If there is anything I can do…You tell me, alright?” Cassian asked, looking at him, so earnestly. Always so earnest. “Whatever it is…You’ll tell me.”

“I am fine, Cass. I promise,” Azriel insisted quietly. “Thank you though.” 

Cassian inclined his head and Azriel’s gaze went back to the fur on the table. “Do you want it?” he asked. 

“What?” 

“Do you want it? For Nesta?” he repeated. Nesta would like it. Probably. Maybe she would even like the story accompanying it. She could have it fashioned into some kind of outer garment or keep it draped over the bed…And if it came from Cassian, the pelt would be used for exactly what it was intended for. 

“It’s your kill, Az,” Cassian pointed out reasonably. “And we both know what it…represents.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “So, do you want it for your mate?” he asked again, Cassian still staring at him. “What else am I supposed to do with it, Cassian?” he said with a sigh. “Sell it? I would rather you have it.” 

It could just be a gift from one brother to another. 

“Keep it,” Cassian told him, his voice fierce. “You keep it.  One day you are going to need it. One day, you are going to have a cloak made out of that for your wife and the offcuts will be used for shoes for your son or daughter. And you will be happy that you hung onto it.”

It was a lovely sentiment. It was. 

But Azriel didn’t think he was ever going to have that so it didn’t matter. 

 “It’s your kill, Az. Yours. You keep it,”  Cassian repeated. “And maybe the next time you try another hobby…pick something less dangerous?” he suggested with a bright grin, going back to teasing him.

“Oh don’t worry, the shadows have a list.  We aren’t even halfway done,”  he said with a sigh. 

“What’s next on it?” Cassian wondered. 

“Knitting.”

“You know anybody that can teach you that?”

“Yes. My Ma.”

[readychilledwine]

The Story of Us

Summary - After Nyx is given a school project on his family, the Inner Circles Quad is stuck trying to explain their love life to their nephew.

Prompt Day 1 - Beginnings

Warnings - Nyx is smart and sassy, flashbacks, kind of forced mating bond, jealousy and fighting, rough patches before a happy ending, slightly implied smut

A/n - Happy @polyacotarweek

This is based on one of my friends having to explain this similar situation to her daughters. We, as a society, could do so much for eliminating stereotypes in the poly community if we openly discussed it and normalized it with kids. Her daughters have been raised in a household with a Quad and see the love their parents share as completely normal, and isn't that such a beautiful thing? To be able to freely love without judgement.

Peep the Poly+Acotarweek Masterlist here

Nyx blinked so innocently at you. His tiny fist gripped his pencil as he mimicked your blinking, waiting for you, Azriel, Nesta, or Cassian to answer him. Rhys and Feyre stood behind him with shit eating grins, waiting for how you all would respond.

The heir stared mainly at you, his damn near mirror image,  as you looked up at your older brother Rhys and then back down to your nephew. “Auntie Y/n, I need to know! It's for school,” his little face pouted, and all eyes landed on you.

You sighed, leaning your elbows top your knees. “Well, baby, I don't know how to explain or where you want me to start.” 

Nyx huffed, looking at you like you were stupid and making Rhys further chuckle. “I know you sleep with Uncle Cassian,” the mentioned male spit out his water, praying their nephew simply meant sharing a bed and not other activities. “And Auntie Ness,” Nesta held no reaction, not even an ounce of shame. “And Uncle Azzy.” Azriel looked away, scratching his jaw line. “And last weekend when I came up to surprise you, all four of you were in one bed and Uncle Cass made me wait before I could snuggle, and daddy only makes me do that when he and mommy -"

Rhys covered Nyx's mouth, his own face flushed as Feyre's ears turned pink. “What he wants to know is how to explain the dynamic.” Since you know for our kind this is not normal, Rhys said gently into your mind. A three-way bond is rare. A 4-way bond is unheard of.

Azriel spoke softly. “We all love each other, Nyx,” he said it like it was the easiest thing to explain to a child with parents who enjoy their monogamous marriage and traditional mating bond, as if Nyx would just understand. “We all love each other so much, and we all enjoy being together. All the time.”

Nyx rolled his eyes. “I know. But how?” He waited again, brows raised and a small pout growing in his face.

Cassian smiled nodding to you. “You tell him, princess.” 

You looked at Az, the smile on his face told every single emotion he had. “A long long loooooong time ago,” Nyx giggled as you held the vowel, “Your daddy and Uncle Cass brought home this weird,” a soft watch it came from beside you, “but kind of cute Illyrian, and I had my first crush.”

The quiet male standing behind Rhys and Cassian rocked back and forth on his feet as you looked at him. He was beautiful, all be it, awkward, but still beautiful. “Sis, meet Azriel,” you waved from behind your mother's leg. “He's going to live with us.”

“Third brother!” Cassian threw his arms up, yelling and then hugging the male with scarred hands and damaged wings tightly.

“Brother!” Rhys then also went in to hug him, rambling about all the cool things they'd be doing together. Hazel eyes met yours, and plush lips mouthed, “Help me.”

You smiled softly at him, offering him a hand and pulling him away from the idiots around you two. "Do you like chocolate?" He nodded at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips before it disappeared. "Good."

“They were inseparable after that,” Cassian grumbled. His tone was filled with old aching jealousy. “Unless Azriel was training or agreed to hang out with us. He was with y/n.”

The sparkle in Nyx's eye as he looked at where you and Azriel sat, lost to all of them as the male kissed your knuckles made Cassian's heart skip. “Did they know they were mates?”

“No,” Cassian was soft now. “That happened under different circumstances.”

"I've apologized many times, Cassian." Azriel stared towards the larger male. "Will you ever actually forgive us?"

"It's not you two I still hold anger towards."

Cassian had you alone. Finally alone.

You had been courting for months now, but every date always had at least one tag along. The kiss you two were in was frantic and heated as he held you against the wall. His teeth pulled at your bottom lip, smirking as you gasped softly and gave him more access to you. His lips moved to your neck, pulling the dress you had worn out of the way.

Cassian shivered as you whispered his name. Loving how he could reduce his educated little princess to nothing more than a girl desperate for his touch. You both jumped as the door slammed shut, two arguing voices carrying through the house. “Y/n!” You sighed as Cassian's grip grew tighter. “Cass!”

Azriel walked in seconds later, eyes going wide as he stood there in shock. It took him a moment, composing himself the best he could while looking just at you. “Your father is here. He will be coming to the house any second now.”Azriel's mind was slowly becoming a storm as he walked away. Allowing you to compose yourself before your father came and demanded dinner with his son, daughter, and their tagalongs. Your mother was trapped in Velaris heavily pregnant, unable to help you all, to help him. Of all the times for a bond to snap, it had to be while your legs were wrapped around Cassian, delicate fingers threaded through his hair. 

You were downstairs, setting the table quickly. Silently grateful you had planned to cook enough for a small army to ensure there was food for Rhys and Azriel. You felt him long before he spoke. That dominating presence just sucking the life and air from the happy cabin.

“Ah, little star,” soft hands held your jaw from behind. “You smell..” His nose was in your hair as your eyes shut, sniffing it deeply to place whatever scent he had caught. “Interesting. We will discuss you degrading yourself late." A pointed look when Rhysand's way, causing your older brother to flinch internally before shielding Cassian from any attacks. "Serve dinner, y/n. We have much to discuss.”

“So grandpa made Auntie serve Uncle Az dinner? And Auntie was dating Uncle Cass?”

Rhys nodded from the spot he had now taken next to Nyx. “Yes.”

“But that meant her and Uncle Az were married now.” You all couldn't help but smile at Nyx's innocence of what had happened that night. “But that's not fair.” 

“No buddy, it wasn't,” Cassian looked at you and Azriel. “It took us a while to be friends again.”

"But again," Azriel waited until Nyx looked to him. "We love each other. So we wanted to become friends again."

“What made you two friends?”

The question caused silence to hang in the air as you suddenly moved close into Nesta, seeking her comfort to stop you from crying. Azriel took a deep breath, “We lost some people, and Uncle Cass saved Auntie Y/n.”

"Like a knight saving a princess!"

Cassian scented your blood as the warriors ran to where the reports of a disturbance came from. It mixed heavily with the scent of soil, of your mother's blood, of little Stel’s blood.

He felt a weird pulling. As if something was desperately clawing at his chest, begging him to find you, and when he did, he went silent. 

You were unconscious on the ground, wings carved from your back, bruising everywhere. He flew you to your father, growling as healers ripped you from his arms. “How did you find her before I did?” Azriel's eyes were cold, staring at him from across the room.

“She called for me.” Cassian refused to leave your side as you healed. He was the first to hold you when you woke up, the one to teach you how to walk again. As much as it had irritated Azriel, the shadowsinger felt it, too. A strained pull bringing the three of you together. Binding your lives and very souls.

“So the three of you all dated?” 

“Yeah,” Azriel leaned forward, reading Nyx carefully. “And you know how Auntie Ness got involved. Does it bother you?”

A little lip trembled. “If you all love each other, how can you love me?” 

Nesta was to him instantly. Cradling her little life line so tight. “It's different, baby. But there's so much love for you. All the love for you. We'd all do anything for you, Nyx. We all love you so so much."

You moved by him, too, kissing a small hand. "Some people have so much love to give that their hearts overflow, Nyx. Trust us, we love you as much, if not almost more, than we love each other." You kissed his palm again. "But that doesn't answer the question, baby. Does it bother you that we all are married?"

Nyx thought for a while, young eyes filled with so much hope and knowledge studying each of you. "No. It's my favorite."

Silence fell between the 4 of you that night. “Do you think he understands?” You were the first to break the quiet. “Do we need to stop until he gets it?”

“If we don't raise him with this being the norm, he will never see it as a norm,” Cassian sighed as he ran his fingers through his hair. “He needs to grow up knowing it's normal for some people to love more than one person like this. Not everyone has one love of their life, y/n. Some of us get the honor of falling in love over and over again."

“I've never heard the full story.” Nesta moved next to Azriel. “Of how you three began. I have a feeling you left details out.” 

You answered plainly. “Several fights. Verbal and physical. A lot crying. A lot of sex. Rhys yelled a lot. Like. More than he ever has at you. I got locked in the Palace by father at one point."

“So what was the final decision? What made two three?”

Cassian, you, and Azriel all smiled. “The first Solstice with Rhys trapped Under the Mountain.”

You refused to leave bed. Refused to eat. You refused to so much as even think about solstice without your brother. 

It felt wrong.

Like you were playing this role of someone you were never meant to play. You stayed in his room, Azriel, Cassian, Mor, and Amren long forgotten. You had not spoken with your mates since Rhys left your head, whispering soft words of how much you mean to him, of how his greatest joy in life was being your big brother. 

You didn't even respond as the door opened and the bed dipped in two places. “We miss him too,” Cassian moved his hand to find yours under the blanket. “We tried having a snowball fight, but it just didn't feel right.”

Azriel hummed from where he had moved to lay behind you. “Not just because Rhysand is missing, but our girl wasn't there cheering us on from the sidelines.” 

“I'm sorry-”

“Do not apologize, princess.” Cassian laid next to you then, too. “If this is where you'd like to be today, we need to be good mates and be here, too.” 

Azriel's lips pressed softly on your shoulder. “We were hoping Solstice would be extra special this year. Cassian and I have talked a lot, and we both think there's enough love inside of all of us to make this work.”

Your eyes lit up instantly. “Really?”

Cassian nodded. “I loved you long before he came into the picture, and I've realized slowly how much I love him as well.”

“And I feel the same,” Azriel moved a hand to rest above yours and Cassian's. “And I know you do, starlight.” 

“So this is my solstice present? No more fighting?” 

“No more fighting,” they confirmed together.

“Rhys would be so happy. I wish he was here.”

The two males shared a look. One sparing glance. Azriel brushed soft onyx colored hair from your face. "We do too. Do you know what Rhys would have liked for Solstice?"

Cassian kissed your shoulder, finishing Azriel's thought. "You to eat something."

“And then 50 years later you came,” you smiled so softly. “And you shook everything I'd ever thought about myself.”

Nesta's face flushed. “Was I?”

“My first and last time with a female.”

“Oh,” Nesta's hands played with the hem of her dress. “When I was human, I never imagined this. The first time I saw the first of you together, I didn't know what to think.”

Cassian smiled, “We're a lot.”

“It wasn't that. I.. Deep down I wanted to be a part of it from the first dinner. It was like-”

“You found home?” Azriel ran a finger down her cheek. “You sure as fuck fought it, Ness.”

“Because it was scary. Loving so many people so deeply is terrifying.”

“And magical.” 

She looked at you, and nodded to confirm. “Beyond magical.”

“Yes. It is.”

Cassian smacked your ass slightly before standing. “Rhys said Nyx is going to say we all just live together and love each other a lot and he likes it.”

Azriel stood behind him. “Separate beds tonight or one?”

“One,” the general answered with a shrug. “We will see you two in bed.”

You both wished them goodnight as Nesta smiled softly into the fire. You leaned to her, holding those perfect manicured hands. She smiled before laughing out a soft what. “I know it's still strange for you, but it's amazing how much room we all truly have for people in our hearts, if we're brave enough to allow them in.” 

“Sometimes my heart is so full, I just worry I will wake up and it's all been a lie.”

“Never, Ness. I have you. You have me. We have them. They have us, and the beautiful thing is that love flows freely. And it always will, so long as you wish for it to.”

“I love you, y/n.”

“And I love you, Nesta. Let's go to bed and hope our nephew doesn't make us look like heathens.”

“There's no one else I'd rather be a heathen with,” soft lips met yours before resting a forehead against yours. “You were my favorite to fall in love with. You know that?”

“Really?” The oldest Archeron nodded. “Tell me our story from your eyes someday?”

“I will.”

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys

Poly Week Taglist

@amara-moonlight @toporecall @littlestw01f @prettylittlewrites @anuttellaa @nayaniasworld @123345566

[fieldofdaisiies]

nessian week masterlist

I haven’t done headcanons in a long time, and for this prompt it felt so right to do some fluffy modern Nessian + daughter Alayla ones

while on the outside Cassian is this strong and tough army general, behind closed doors and especially with his daughter, his is this big soft teddy bear

there is not a single wish he would not fulfil his little daughter (or his wonderful wife Nesta)

that can reach from breakfast in bed, to tea parties with her stuffed animals or going to Disney Land

“Try it!” Alayla is beaming, watching how Cassian takes a bite from the chocolate cookie she has just made. She mixed together all sorts of things in the kitchen, Cassian watched her and then helped her bake them (he would never allow her to use the oven alone).

Cassian fights the urge to grimace, tries to force a smile on his lips while nodding, and forcing down the bite. It’s disgusting, but how should he tell her?

“Lovely,” he brings out, still trying to smile.

But Alayla pouts, reading him just as well as her mother. “You hate them?” She furrows her brows, and silver lines her eyes.

So, Cassian is quick, shoving the whole cookie into his mouth and then a second one. “No. Deli-f-oms.” He holds both his thumbs up. “I momf them.”

Alayla also loves to play beauty salon and paint her parents nails, or do their hair

“Your right hand, daddy.” Alayla throws her hands, also the one tightly clasping the nail polish brush with the hot pink tip, into the air. “You need to focus, we are not doing this for fun. This is business.” She rolls her eyes and with the toss of her hair over her right shoulder she reaches for Cassian’s hand and holds it down before starting to paint his thumb and also the skin around it in bright pink.

Nesta laughs, slightly mischievously, from where she is leaning against the doorframe, her gaze moving from her daughter and Cassian to her own hands and the bright orange and pastel green gracing her nails, and the skin around them.

“Mummy always calls you my pretty man so we need to do your hair next.” Alayla thankfully spared Nesta’s hair. She explained to her daughter that it would be lovely if the blow-out she had done just the day before could stay the way it is.

Reluctantly, Alayla had agreed and decided to do Cassian’s hair instead, braiding some strands and pinning others with Barbie and Paw Patrol hair clips. (Also, on more than one occasion has it happened already that Nesta went to work with a one of those hair clips pinned to her hair). 

Rhys and Az will never let Cassian forget that one day he also forgot to remove the hot pink from his nails and fingers and showed up like this to training – “A sight for sore eyes,” as Rhys called it

Az and Rhys have been laughing for a solid twenty minutes, until Cassian came up with some stories about them and their kids

let’s now talk about cuddling

this family loves cuddling

staying in bed on a rainy Sunday, watching Alayla’s favourite shows on the TV in Nesta and Cassian’s bedroom, while eating in bed

“What’s his name?” Cassian asks, taking a big bite from his toast. 

Alayla sighs dramatically and Nesta, laughing, says. “It’s a girl, Cass, and her name is Skye. You finally need to remember.”

“You really do, she’s my favourite.” Alayla grins, mimicking the way Skye, the dog, is flying over the sky. Then she rests her hand on Cassian’s shoulder, and purses her lips. “Who is your favourite?” she asks in a very serious tone. 

Cassian swallows, then squints his eyes at the screen before looking at his daughter. Her eyes are trained on the TV screen and so Cassian throws Nesta a help seeking glance, before mouthing “What is the fire pup’s name?”

Nesta has to hold back from laughing, she bites the insides of her cheeks and then mouths “Marshall.” 

A thankful smile appears on Cassian’s face. “Marshall!”

“Ah!” Alayla taps her chin, nodding slowly. “Interesting.”

Interesting indeed, Cassian thinks when he ends up having to play said dog when Nyx, Dalia and Zada are over for a visit. 

Since they are three girls and only one boy (Nyx wants to be Chase, Dalia Everest, Zada Zuma) they are in need of another male dog and since Cassian’s favourite is Marshall, he earns himself this roll, much to Nesta’s amusement

and lastly, Cassian is a great cook and there is nothing better for Nesta and Alayla to enjoy one of his amazing meals

Cassian who was alone a lot as a child due to his mother working so much learned to cook very early on

He creates amazing meals, some of them are only reserved for his family

Nesta will never stop praising his talent, and the same goes for Alayla who boasts to her cousins and friends that her father is the best cook in the entire world

tags: @helhjertet @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt (no smut) @crushedcloudx @brekkershadowsinger @girasoli-e-sorrisi @ignite-me @swifti-ed @cassiansbigwingspan @burningsnowleopard @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @bookishbroadwaybish

for @nessianweek💛