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#Acotar series
thehighladywrites · 16 hours
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— “I’m just a girl!”
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☀︎ — pairing: nerd/tutor azriel x bimbo/ditzy reader
☀︎ — summary: you tell azriel you don’t know what taxes are, and that you haven’t filed them ever
☀︎ — warnings: fluff, dramatic reader, azriel being sweet and educational
☀︎ — amara’s note: man i wish i was her rn💔 also this is so fucking real bc what on earth are taxes???
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“Baby, please, you have got to grasp the gravity of this situation. Not filing your taxes is no joke. You could end up behind bars for tax evasion! There was a whole mandatory course last semester, didn’t you take it?” Azriel's tone is firm, his concern painted all over his face as he stands infront of you.
When you revealed that you didn't know what taxes were or how to "file" them, Azriel got worried sick, emphasizing the importance of understanding basic responsibilities like this.
He brought you into the living room, seated you on the sofa, and stood in front of you, carefully explaining step by step why not filing taxes was illegal and how to fix the situation. However, no matter how hard you try, you can't focus on his words, your attention completely consumed by his built muscles. Your mind goes blank as you find yourself daydreaming about him taking off his shirt.
Azriel knows you’re not focusing on his words, he knows you’re ogling his body, and even though he gets warm and loves it, he needs you to focus on the topic, at least for a few minutes.
“Are you paying attention, baby?”
You honestly don’t get it at all. Like, if they take tax from you when you’re shopping, shouldn’t they already know how much you owe or whatever? And who even are the IRS? Can’t you just live your life without all this complicated stuff? Why does Azriel have to make everything so...ugh, what's the word? Complicated?
“Oh my god, Azzie! Stop it, I don’t wanna do this and I don’t understand anything. Please, I’m just a girl!” you exclaim dramatically pulling your knees to your chest as you hide your face in your hands, tears prickling in your eyes. You’re feeling completely overwhelmed by the situation and the sheer thought of dealing with stupid taxes.
Azriel sighs deeply, his brows furrowing as he takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. If he doesn’t have a gray hair by the end of the week, he’ll consider it a win. As much as he wants you to understand what is wrong with basically committing a crime, he doesn’t want you crying, he feels sick to his stomach seeing you so sad but he just has to fucking ask.
“You’re—You're just a girl— sweetheart, what does that even mean?” he asks gently, completely flabbergasted by your statement.
You fold your arms over your chest, chin held high as you say, “Ya heard me, m’just a girl. And that means i should not be doing any of this, i should be living my best life instead of thinking about whatever taxes are.”
Azriel just looks at you with raised eyebrows, man you’re stressing him the fuck out. Luckily he caught your illegal activities early otherwise you would have gone to prison for sure. Even though he thinks it was ridiculous for a person to have never done their taxes ever, he doesn’t hold you against it. He just slumps his shoulders, taking a breather. Azriel can never be mad at you, never at his sweet angel. Especially not when you look so upset, big sparkly eyes looking at him with worry.
It’s in that moment. That tiny moment, he decides to never confront you with your mistakes. Sure you almost went to jail, but Azriel is here now. He is intelligent enough to think about the more serious issues for the both of you. And he will for the rest of his life, not because he has to, but because he wants to. He wants to take care of you.
“You’re right, my love, you shouldn’t worry about this. I’ll take care of it,” Azriel assures you, his tone gentle as he tucks a strand behind your ear.
You look up at him, eyes shiny with unshed tears as your face lights up before you stand up and jump into his arms, showering his face with kisses, your excitement bubbling over.
“Awe, you're the best baby, I love you so, so, soooo much!” you exclaimed, your words flowing freely in your ditzy excitement.
He laughs shyly, still getting nervous when you show him affection. “I love you too, beautiful.”
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itsswritten · 21 hours
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when the sea calls for three | 3
Pairings: Azriel x Reader x Eris
Words: 5.3K
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<<Previous Part | Masterlist | Summary
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Autumn Court
“She’s late!” Eris's voice thundered through the hallway, his steps echoing on the stone floors of Forest House. You remained composed, waiting patiently as you heard his approach. Knowing full well the fiery storm that would follow.
The doors burst open with a forceful push, and Eris entered into the room like a whirlwind, his expression a mixture of frustration and impatience. He opened his mouth to unleash a barrage of complaints, only to falter as he caught sight of you seated calmly with his mother, sharing tea.
There was that fire. A flicker of it anyway.
You were no stranger to the fiery nature of the Vanserra’s. Lucien had his own, but it was interesting how differently it manifested in them. 
Lucien’s heat was like a welcoming hearth, radiating warmth and comfort like a cosy fireplace. But beneath, lurked potential. His fire, always crackling, could easily spread if provoked.
Beron had always been like a volcanic eruption, spitting burning molten fury upon anyone who crossed his path with no warning or restraint.
Restraint was something you felt Eris had a multitude of.
He was different. His fire felt different. Always simmering, on the verge of boiling over but never quite reaching it. It was as if he had learned to temper his flames, dampening them in the presence of his father. Now, with Beron gone, perhaps that simmering intensity would finally have the chance to ignite into something new.
You guessed only time would tell.
Sensing the tension, Lady Autumn, Hestia, intervened with a gentle smile. "I must apologise, my son," she began, her tone soothing. "I simply couldn't resist stealing y/n away for a quick catch-up. Don't hold her responsible when it is I that is at fault"
You couldn't help but smirk, finding amusement in the sight of Eris momentarily caught off guard. His previous expression of frustration changed into something that bore indifference. 
As you and Lady Hestia rose to greet him, she enveloped you in a warm embrace, "We're all thrilled to have you here. Oh, how I wish your mother could see you now. She would be bursting with pride." Genuine love left those words. The mention of your late mother stirred a bittersweet ache in your heart, and you noticed how even Eris’ expression softened.
"I'll leave you both to it," Lady Hestia beamed once more, her gaze shifting between you and Eris with pride. “I believe the pair of you will do wonderful things for this court. Together.” She held one of your hands in hers, while her other rested gently on her son's cheek. Leaning in, her voice softened to a whisper. "I'm proud of you too, you know."
Eris's expression softened further at his mother's words, a mix of emotions flickering across his features. He had brought an end to it all—his father's reign, the tyranny that had gripped them all. For his mother, for his brothers, for his people. He had taken the ultimate risk, and succeeded. You knew if it was Beron that still stood here to today, he would have had no part in this new peace treaty. 
If not for Eris's courage, well, you wouldn’t be standing here in Autumn today either, ready to forge a new path forward.
Despite the poor reputation that often preceded him, you had always suspected there was more to Eris than met the eye. Beneath that hard molten exterior, you were sure a kindness lingered. 
A small flicker of a flame.
A rare spark you had glimpsed in your younger years– a quality that you knew came from Hestia. It was a golden thread of hope you clung to, that perhaps beneath all those hard layers, the real Eris would now reveal himself. 
That maybe he was more like Lucien than either of them would ever admit.
However, he made it all too easy to believe the opinions of others when he looked at you like that. His unreadable expression, stoic and yet fiery with eyes that harboured resentment.
Who were you kidding? This was Eris Vanserra.
Eris reluctantly led you down the winding corridors of Forest House. You’d forgotten how large this place was, how deep the levels went. Memories of your childhood flickered through your mind as you recalled times where you and Lucien had ran down these very halls. Eris hadn’t taken you to the lower levels, instead he showed you the way to the western wing on one of the higher floors. 
Eris halted before a grand oak door. With a subtle gesture, he swung it open to reveal the spacious chamber beyond. "This room is yours." Eris announced, his tone begrudging.
He could have just got a member of his staff to do this. You wanted to roll your eyes at him, but you realised he was trying. That perhaps years of pretending to be this evil heir to appease his father may actually take time to erase.
So you would give him a chance. As you were giving all the courts, it was only fair.
Stepping inside, you were greeted by the warmth of a crackling fire and the inviting embrace of luxurious furnishings. The bed, adorned with sheets in hues of burnt orange and chocolate. A sight that made you want to curl up on the sheets there and then, Autumn had always been cosy. A large ornate wooden desk occupied one corner, while a private washroom beckoned from the side.
You surveyed the space with a sense of amusement, a soft chuckle escaping your lips at the indulgent opulence. The quietness of the quarters enveloped you, the secluded area obvious.
Was he hiding you in this part of the house? You’d noticed how it was far from the heart of the home.
"Do I have this entire wing to myself?" you quipped playfully, your eyes dancing with amusement as you turned to face Eris.
Eris's response was matter-of-fact. "My quarters reside in this part of the house” he states plainly, his expression revealing a hint of reluctance.
Surprised by his choice, you press further. "You haven't taken up the High Lord's quarters?"
A moment of emotion passes over Eris's features as he shakes his head. "I don't want to displace my mother from the room she's spent centuries in. Plus, I have no desire to inhabit my father's spaces. This part of the house has always been mine."
You nod in understanding, appreciating his unwavering respect and love he’s always had for his mother. A quality all of his brothers had.
Although you assumed there was more to it than just a son’s respect for his mother. Were there areas of the house he didn’t want to go? Parts where his father’s presence still lingered. 
“It’s eerily quiet…” you raised a brow, stepping to look outside the large window onto the beautiful autumn scenery.
“It is.” Eris's voice held a hint of amusement as he joined you by the window, his gaze following yours to the tranquil landscape outside. “It's so I can hear you if you get up to any trouble. My chamber is only down the hall.”
Ah, how quickly the taunts came. How natural this felt despite it being centuries.
Familiar, teasing and warm. His words had always felt like that when he spoke to you.
“Always so paranoid Eris…but good to know you’re only down the hall should I need you” you replied with a hum, only to watch that glint in Eris’ eyes turn playful.
“And why would you need me, little mouse?” His tone was teasing, and the old nickname sent a wave of nostalgia washing over you.
Little mouse.
That pet name. One you had almost forgotten about. The name instantly transporting you back to a time when you did indeed feel like a little mouse beneath Eris’ fox-like smile. 
Did he remember too? That time you almost gave yourself to him… 
You were at a ball, where you had slipped away, seeking solace from the overwhelming social obligations and the awkward third-wheeling as your friends found their own romantic pursuits for the evening. In the dimly lit corridors of the grand ballroom, you sought refuge away from the echoing sounds of laughter and music. You leaned against the cool marble walls, tugging at the tight corset around your waist.
It was then that Eris's voice, smooth and dark, pierced the silence around you. "What is Lucien's little girlfriend doing out here all alone?" His presence had seemed to materialise out of nowhere, his figure looming closer as he prowled towards you with a predatory grace.
You had rolled your eyes at his predictable taunts, a hint of exasperation tingeing your tone. "Really, Eris, that joke is getting old."
You watched as he came to stand in front of you, his presence already warming you. And you weren’t sure if that was because of the fire in his veins or the effect he had on you. It was perhaps not one of your proudest moments, but yes you may have had a small crush on your best friend’s older brother. His cold exterior usually scared most away, but there was a warmth in his eyes that you hadn’t been able to ignore.
You couldn't deny that you often found your eyes searching for Eris during your visits to Lucien. It was a fleeting fascination.
"Then if you are not my brother’s... does that mean this little mouse is available for the taking?" His words dripped with dark humour, tone laced with a hint of something more. You felt your cheeks flush with heat, betraying any composure you had.
As he leaned in close, the proximity between you electrifying, you found yourself at a loss for words. You were never at a loss for words, but somehow in the presence of Eris you were. He looked like a fox ready to feast on you, and there was a part of you that was willing to let him. Maybe it was low inhibitions from faerie wine, or simply the desire to have someone’s attention that night, but you would have let Eris devour you.
But then as his stare took in your expression, his gaze softened for a moment. It was only fleeting, but whatever had crossed his mind was enough for him to abruptly pull away and head back into the ballroom.
The rejection tasted bitter in your mouth, and so you pushed that feeling deep, deep, deep inside of yourself.
Eris seemed to wet his lip with his tongue as if recognising where that name had taken you, and he was relishing in it. “I guess if the little mouse finds herself needing a comforting presence at night I’m not too far away. Maybe if you ask nicely I might even let you share my be-”
You smacked his arm hard, cutting off whatever inappropriate sentence he was going to finish with. This was your fault really, you’d opened the gates to this type of talk. But it was so familiar, you couldn’t help yourself. It was like you were 21 again with that stupid all consuming crush on your best friend's older brother.
Old habits died hard it seemed.
You weren’t 21 anymore though, and you wouldn’t crumble under his stare. He was watching you now, curious to know if he had gone too far but that soft smirk spread across your lips giving him the satisfaction he needed.
“Careful High Lord,” You mused “Careful.” and with that you turned “Come, we have work to do.”
You had given him your warning, and yet it very much felt like a challenge to his ears.
༄ 
You and Eris sat in his office, staring at the miniscule pile of submissions that had been sent in by his court. While Summer and Night's inhabitants had been perhaps overly forthcoming in expressing their thoughts, Autumn's court remained eerily silent.
You flicked through the handful of submissions, each one echoing the same sentiment: satisfaction with the status quo. 
They were reluctant to rock the boat. 
Eris let out a frustrated sigh, dragging his hands down his face in exasperation. "My father has instilled so much fear into the land that they're too scared to even present their problems," he muttered bitterly, his gaze fixed on the sparse pile of papers.
You took a moment to digest his words before speaking up. "But you are not your father, Eris."
He looked up at you, a glimmer of doubt in his eyes. "No, but to some, they consider me just as bad."
Why was it in the unspoken you truly heard him.
Am I just as bad?
Your heart clenched tightly at his doubts. "Then let's show them you're not," you suggested, your voice firm with determination.
Without waiting for a response, you stood up from your chair and walked out of the room, expecting him to follow. True to form, Eris hurried after you, his steps quickening to match your pace.
“Little mouse, I’m not fond of chasing.” Eris shouted, his voice echoing through the corridors of Forest House. You hastened your steps, keeping ahead of Eris’ footsteps.
As he caught up and grabbed your hand hard, pulling you to a stop, you couldn't help but notice the flicker of annoyance in his expression. "Looks like you chased me anyway," you quipped with a playful smile, glancing down at your intertwined fingers.
His hand was warm and firm, yet with a roughness that differed from the Shadowsigner’s touch.
Why were you comparing them?
You pulled your hand from his quickly, not giving yourself another moment to linger on how his skin felt against yours. “We need to change the narrative Eris, let’s meet your people directly.” 
Eris didn’t object, his gaze lingering on his hand for a moment before he scoffed, shaking his head. You could have sworn he wanted to smile. “You’ve always been so hard to say no to.”
“It’s because I’m always right” You sang, stepping out into the crisp autumn air, the leaves crunching beneath your feet as you made your way towards the nearest town. Eris following closely beside you.
The townspeople of Autumn seemed to scatter like leaves in the wind at the sight of their red-headed High Lord, their gazes darting away or pretending to be engrossed in their tasks. It was a reaction Eris had grown accustomed to, one that grated on his nerves more than he cared to admit. His stoic demeanour, a shield he'd always worn, now seemed to be the very barrier keeping his people at arm's length.
Approaching a farmer with a stall brimming with fresh autumn produce, you noticed the tension in the man's shoulders as he glanced nervously at Eris behind you. His wooden stand boasted an array of vibrant fruits and vegetables. "Could I buy a bag?" you asked with a warm smile, trying to ease the farmer's apprehension.
His response was tentative as he began to bag up some plump blackberries for you. "Has your harvest been good this week?" you inquired, attempting to strike up conversation.
He seemed hesitant at first to reply, but you introduced yourself with a small smile. Vaguely brushing over your new role, and what you, as well as Eris were setting out to do during this new reign of peace. The farmer rolled his shoulders back as if finding confidence. "I've been lucky… but some of the land has been struggling. There's a blight on some of the soil," he replied cautiously, his eyes still avoiding Eris's imposing figure.
"No one notified me," Eris interjected, his tone firm and harsh. But you knew there was an underlying concern that rang in his words.
"Apologies, your grace. With your father... may the cauldron bless him... he didn't like us to inform him of these issues, only to rectify them," the farmer explained, bowing slightly.
Eris went rigid, and you gave him a soft glare as if to remind him that he was supposed to be painting a new narrative here.
"I will send a harvest healer down to the farms. Please inform me if you come across such problems again," Eris instructed, his tone softer this time.
As the farmer passed you the bag of berries, Eris unexpectedly dropped a few gold coins into the man's hand, overpaying for the fruit. "Thank you, your grace," the farmer murmured gratefully before retreating.
Despite Eris's efforts, it was evident that it would take time for his people to see him in a different light. Coaxing more residents to open up proved challenging with Eris looming behind you, his presence an obvious deterrent. Determined to find a solution, you gently looped your arm through his, eliciting a faint frown and a subtle pull away from him. "What are you doing?" he grimaced at your touch.
Gods, you’d have thought you’d burned him with his reaction.
"Softening your image. Having a pretty thing on your arm won't do you any harm," you remarked with a playful smile, hoping to chip away at the walls he'd built around himself, one touch at a time. 
But despite how playful your reply was, your action was thought out. Having your charismatic smiley self on the arm of Eris, you hoped would sweeten his image, even just a little.
He merely rolled his eyes, his expression veering towards indifference, yet he didn't pull away. Your arm wrapped around his, drawing you intimately close, the warmth of the Vanserra male warding off the chill of the crisp autumn air. His scent enveloped you, a familiar blend of crackling fire, cloves, and cinnamon. 
Being this close to him wasn’t awful, a younger version of you may have even longed for this. 
Your plan had indeed worked. There was an undeniable charm in the sight of you hanging on the arm of the High Lord that seemed to thaw the reserve of the people, coaxing smiles and candid conversations from them.
The final stop for your visit was a bakery, one you remembered fondly from past visits. The sweet aroma of freshly baked goods wafted through the air, triggering a wave of nostalgia. "Please tell me you still have the pumpkin cream pie," you requested eagerly, your eyes lighting up. The baker's response was warm, and she quickly set about preparing one for you to take away. "You don’t understand how much I’ve missed this," you confessed, your excitement palpable. Eris had joined you by now, leaning casually against a nearby wall as he observed the interaction.
His expression softened as he watched you, the warmth of your personality radiating as you engaged with the baker. It was a quality of yours that had always drawn people to you, even from a young age. 
You had a way with words, a knack for always saying just the right thing. Whether it was to win an argument, gain the favour of opinion or uplift someone, the correct words always rolled off your tongue.
Pretty words from that pretty mouth.
Of course Eris knew the reason behind your charm, a secret he had long kept to himself. He knew of the abilities his little mouse possessed. 
He realised how long his gaze had settled on you, and it didn't escape his notice how the staff watched closely, some of them with a light tinge of pink covering their cheeks as they blushed,giggled and whispered between one another. In that moment, he realised the true power of having a ‘pretty thing’ on his arm.
Meanwhile, you were busy savouring the pumpkin cream, licking it off your finger with relish. "Gods, this is so good," you exclaimed, your smile infectious. But as you glanced up, you caught his unreadable gaze, and a hint of concern flickered in your eyes. 
Had you been too casual? Falling into this familiarity with him had felt so natural that you hadn’t even considered if it was maybe a tad unprofessional. Not that there would be anyone to reprimand you, but you did want to succeed in this role.
Swallowing, you decided to steer the conversation back to business. "I think this approach worked," you remarked, attempting to gauge his reaction. He was still looking forward as you both walked back to Forest House. "They were quite forthcoming with concerns once we got them to open up. There are a few areas I feel as though I'd be able to support." But his face remained inscrutable, as if he were pondering something much weightier.
Then, unexpectedly, he spoke, halting your steps in their tracks. "I want you to help me find a wife," he declared, his tone serious.
The request caught you off guard, though in hindsight, perhaps it shouldn't have. After all, he was the High Lord, and finding a suitable partner to rule his court with, and of course produce an heir, would be a natural priority for him.
"Of course, Eris," you replied, your tone as composed as you could manage. 
Why had the notion left you so uncomposed?
He smirked then softly “You were right about having a pretty thing on my arm. It worked…Plus it’s probably about time.”
You paused for a moment, your own lips spreading into a smile at what he had said. A younger version of you would have relished in this, being called ‘pretty’ by him. Perhaps, there was a version of you now that enjoyed it too.
"I'll begin looking into potential suitors for you right away." You decided to say, not trusting your usual snarky remarks.
“You can even look for those outside of Autumn, to help with your peace treaty and alliances or whatever. No one from that bastard Night Court though.”
You nodded with a soft chuckle. He had given you an olive branch. A martial alliance would be a great addition to this new era of peace.
Things were falling into place better than you had expected.
But beneath the surface, there was a pang, a feeling you couldn't quite decipher. Something you didn't dare acknowledge even to yourself.
༄ 
Dawn Court
Dawn had been the easier of the four courts to manage, with Thesan being your own High Lord. You had both arranged an in-person meeting for his people to gather and discuss their concerns in the flesh.
During Amarantha's reign, Dawn had stood steadfast in protecting its borders, thanks in part to your efforts. Reflecting on that time was hard, it brought back a mix of emotions and memories, ones you liked to leave in the depth of your mind. But the duty to defend your home had never sat comfortably with you, yet it was a responsibility you willingly shouldered. As a result, you had earned the admiration and affection of your people. 
It was ironic how once some of them had considered you and your family as outsiders, but now they revered you, often laying flowers at your feet. Pressing gifts into your hands and singing your blessings when you walked the streets. The praises and gifts had quietened down since the conflicts, but you often found a bouquet of flowers at your front door, or were stopped in the streets to be embraced.
Despite the concerns shared by all of Prythian, Dawn exhibited a sense of optimism amid the lingering apprehension about border openings. Morale remained low, and safety remained a paramount concern, but there was an obvious excitement about the prospect of travelling between courts. They wanted this new peace treaty to succeed, and they were willing to help in any way they could to change that.
For two days, you assisted Thesan in managing the affairs of Dawn, aiding him in delegating tasks and prioritising court matters. As the sun set on your final night, you retired to your townhouse nestled in the heart of the city. 
As you slumped into your living room, the sound of a deep voice filled the space. "And she finally finishes," the voice chuckled warmly.
Lucien, Jurian, and Vassa were sprawled across your couch and armchairs, making themselves at home in the space you had graciously offered them for their gatherings when they were in Prythian. They had a manor in the mortal lands, but you opened your home to them for when they needed to be more inland. 
You greeted them with a smile, leaning down to plant soft kisses on Vassa and Jurian's cheeks in greeting, before turning to Lucien. You passed him a small box, with a slice of Pumpkin Cream Pie inside. It elicited a chuckle as he picked up the slice.
“Oh you treat me so well doll.” he smirked, before devouring the slice in a few bites.
"So, have you not been on the continent?" you asked, finding your place next to Lucien and propping your feet up on his lap as you sank back into the couch.
You were utterly exhausted.
The first few weeks of this you had anticipated to be tough, but the amount of work was somewhat excessive. And it would start all over again tomorrow. The cycle repeating. Summer, Night, Autumn, Dawn.
"We were, but these two insisted on seeing you, and for the upcoming week, it's easier for them to be among the solar courts," Lucien explained with a shrug.
Vassa offered a small smile, though her discomfort at using your home without you was evident.
"Don't worry about it," you reassured her, waving off her concerns. You had known what she wanted to say within the unspoken. "My home is yours to use as you please. Besides, I'm hardly here these days anyway, so please, make yourselves at home."
With that, Jurian flashed a grin, sauntering over to your nearby trolley bearing a decanter filled with amber liquid. He quickly poured four glasses, passing them around.
“So, give us the rundown,” Jurian inquired, his gaze shifting between the two of you. You exchanged a glance with Lucien; you hadn't even had time to correspond with him this week, a reality you believed would continue. Tilting your head slightly, you encouraged Lucien to go first, while you sipped on your drink. The alcohol instantly warming your throat.
That was exactly what you needed after the long week.
Lucien began to list the concerns and events of his week, there was a clear similarity across Phyrthian you noticed. Morale was low, and people still felt divisive. Despite the unity forged in the war, that comradery hadn’t seemed to extend. Lucien gave your sock-covered feet a playful pinch, causing you to recoil them from his lap with a feigned glare. "Your turn," he quipped, prompting you to take the floor.
You ran them through your week, highlighting the issues and developments you encountered in the courts you were managing.
"You've opened up trade agreements for Summer, got Night to agree to a school, and are on the hunt for marriage suitors for my brother... Jeez, what else?" Lucien summarised with a scoff and eye roll.
"We can't all be as good as me, Lucie," you retorted, playfully nudging him with your elbow.
"Eris didn't give you too much of a hard time, did he?" Jurian asked playfully, his tone laced with familiarity.
It was nice to see how close Lucien had gotten with Jurian and Vassa, especially since his friendship fell apart with Tamlin. Lucien deserved this, deserved a circle.
You let out a nonchalant hum, absentmindedly playing with a strand of your hair. "You know, Eris isn't all that bad..." you trailed off, your thoughts drifting.
"Maybe not with you... He's always had a soft spot for you," Lucien interjected, shaking his head with a knowing look.
You playfully kicked your foot against his thigh. "What's that supposed to mean?"
A knowing smirk tugged at Lucien's lips. "You know exactly what it means. He's just always been softer with you."
You rolled your eyes, recalling your recent interactions with Eris. Soft was not a word you would use to describe him—perhaps playful or teasing, a little mean even, but not soft.
"What were the infamous Inner Circle like to be amongst?" Vassa interjected, redirecting the conversation.
"Fine, polite, worked hard," you replied, feeling Lucien's subtle fidgeting beside you. You knew the question he wanted to ask but didn't dare. "She wasn't there; I haven't met her yet," you added softly, referring to his mate.
You watched as your friend glanced down at his drink from your words, his usual witty exterior faltering for a moment. Lucien hadn’t indulged you in the finer details of what had transpired between him, Elain and the Shadowsinger. What had caused Elain’s abrupt withdrawal of contact from them both, but the strain it had on him was obvious. 
The one thing Lucein had shared, was that she hadn’t outright rejected the bond yet, you hoped that was some glimmer of something worth holding onto. 
Your fingers moved instinctively, reaching out to gently press against your friend's cheek. His eyes fluttered shut momentarily at your touch, before you playfully pulled on his cheek with a tug. "Get out of that pretty little head of yours, Lucie," you teased, tapping his cheek once more.
The touch had pulled his mind back to reality, as he swore under his breath and smacked your hand away. 
"Gods, you fae are so complicated, with all your complexities, bonds and relationships," Jurian quipped, his tone laced with amusement. You couldn't deny he had a point. Whether politically, platonically, or romantically, there always seemed to be layers upon layers, it’s what was making your new job all that much harder.
"Oh like you humans are any better." Lucien retorted quickly, there was a playfulness in his tone as he sipped on his drink.
"I'm sure if everyone got together and shared some drinks, we'd all be fine," Vassa added, as she raised her drink in the air. The liquid sloshing in her glass.
"Yeah, why can't we all just get shit-faced and go dancing or something? Nothing bonds people like a shared hangover," Jurian grinned.
The room filled with laughter as Lucien remarked something about the last time Jurian was hungover, Vassa quipping in. Your thoughts left you for a moment as they drifted to what Jurian had said.
Getting drunk and dancing had always been a release you’d loved, one shared by most fae and humans. Perhaps one the the few similarities you all shared. And although "getting shit-faced" wasn't the most elegant phrase, the sentiment behind it rang true.
“You two are actually onto something there…” you spoke, the words leaving your lips as your idea formed in your mind. You’d sat up now, looking at Lucien who only frowned at you.
"I'm pretty sure we can't arrange for everyone to have a huge piss-up," Lucien remarked dryly. “As much as I’d love it, it doesn’t feel very…appropriate.”
"We’re obviously not going to organise some sleazy boozer” you rolled your eyes at him.
“Shame.” Jurian piped up.
“But we can arrange a ball.” You smiled that dangerous grin that you knew Lucien found hard to ignore. “Phyrthian’s first ever Peace Ball” you continued, coining the term there and then.
Lucien leaned back into the couch, still looking at you as he digested your words. He was chewing on the inside of his cheek, perhaps figuring out logistics for your outrageous idea. 
But slowly that fox-like grin you loved so much spread across his lips.
He put his glass up in the air “A fucking Peace Ball…”
You quickly raised your glass with a chuckle, Vassa and Jurian raising theirs too. 
Trade agreements, a school, diplomatic martial arrangments and now…a fucking Peace Ball. Lucien had made the right call bringing you on board; there was no one more convincing, more persuasive in all of Prythian. You and your pretty words would bring peace to this land, even if you had to force it upon them.
“Cheers!” 
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Next Part >> coming soon.
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a/n: Decided to post this early, sorry again if it's a little boring, just trying to set everything up. Would love to know what you think so far. How are you expecting this story to unfold? Is there anything in particular you're hoping to see with the story/characters/relationships? Would love your input <3 - Lottie
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littlestw01f · 1 day
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AZRIEL NSFW ALPHABETS
AZRIEL MASTERLIST
MAIN MASTERLIST
Cw: Nsfw stuff, 18+ MDNI
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A: Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)
Depends on the nature of your relationship, he doesn't care much to care for you after if it's a random hook-up.
But if you're in a relationship, he'll always make sure you are comfortable after, hydrated and clean.
He'll ask what you need at the moment and won't hesitate to give it to you until he knows you better than you know yourself and provides you with everything you need by your tells.
B: Body Part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner's)
On him, it's his cock, straight up, cocky little bstard he is knowing he's hung, loves the look in your eyes when you see the size of him every time, and loves how you always struggle to take him.
On you, It's your legs, love how they feel when they're wrapped tight around him to keep him close, loves feeling them up and down, your thighs, and calves.
C: Cum (Anything to do with cum)
Loves to cum on your skin, mixing his scent with you so that people know you are his for as long as possible.
Loves when you cum on his face and tongue so he can taste you directly from the source
D: Dirty Secret
He's been to many orgies in his times in Illyria, taking more males there than females, has dominated both Rhysand and Cassian.
E: Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)
He's got 500 years of experience in pleasuring his partners, he knows exactly what he's doing.
And he's very good at it.
F: Favorite Position(s)
Good old missionary, loves to look at your face contort in pleasure as he takes you.
Cowgirl, he loves watching you on top, bouncing on his cock, gripping onto the talons of his wings, head tipped back.
G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc.)
He's always been serious during sex, especially during a scene with you.
But if something goes wrong, he's started to make jokes about it after making sure you are alright and to make a lighthearted atmosphere.
H: Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes)
A mess of hair as a teen, didn't much care for how his hair looked.
Grew to properly groom his hair, and doesn't really care how you keep yours.
I: Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)
Is very loving and gentle during soft sex.
Not so much expression on his face during play.
J: Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)
Doesn't really have to use his own hand when he had yours.
Only masturbates while he is on a mission and away from you
K: Kink (One or more of their kinks)
Corruption - He had a thing for messing up the innocence of his mate, loves how much of an experimentalist you are, willing to try most things he suggests
Bondage- Leathers: loves Illyrian leathers on you, loves the feel of the leather.
Chains: likes to chain you to his bed and his dungeons, chains over your throat for breath play and he licks over the cold chains on your neck.
Ropes: Hogties you on his bed, loves watching you struggle knowing the ropes would leave burns, then after, kissing over your wrists and ankles.
Dacryphilia - Your tears turn him on, loves your tears streaming down your face whenever he takes you rough, at a punishing pace mostly when you try to flirt with other males to get a rise out of him.
Erotic asphyxiation - Loves forcing air out of you, with his hands, pulling on chains to mark your neck up.
Gagging - Gags you with his fingers and cock, loves the sound of you choking
Blood play/Knife play - Uses truthteller on you, cutting your skin just enough to make you bleed, watching the blood spill and healing back up, carving his name into your abdomen.
Shadow play - His shadows LOVE you, just as much as he does, they love to play with you, make you cum, tie you up, and keep his cum inside you.
Public sex - Fingering you anywhere, making you be quiet as he makes you cum on his hands, then walk away nonchalantly.
Sadism - Adores seeing you in the constant pain and pleasure that he causes.
L: Location (Favorite places to do the do)
Prefers his bed and his dungeons, but will take you anywhere if he is horny enough, and has taken you everywhere at least once.
M: Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)
You, just you, everything about you gets him going, especially your eyes and the way you look at him
N: NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)
He will be wary of anything you aren't downright enthusiastic about.
Will stop if you close your bond with him during play, he needs to have you open your bond with him at all times so he can feel what you're feeling.
O: Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
Loves both, has an obsession with hearing your whines as he keeps making you cum on his tongue.
And with the sound of you gagging on his cock.
P: Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)
He prefers to be rough in most settings, it's the Illyrian rage he fucks out on you.
Is sensual when it's intimate, soft lovemaking for your anniversaries, important times for you both.
Or when you ask depending on what you want.
Q: Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)
Prefers to take his time with you, and make you cum hard over and over again.
Will have a quickie if either of you is in a hurry and doesn't want to pass an opportunity to taste you.
R: Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)
You two take so many risks in your sex life.
You love the thrill of getting caught.
He prefers to sometimes fuck you on the door of Nesta and Cassian's room so that you can cry out directly in their room, as payback to everything they kept him up with their noises.
S: Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last?)
Loves nothing more than being inside you.
Things don't end until you want them to, until all your holes are dripping with his cum, your legs shaking hard for hours after
T: Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)
Less "Toys" and more like torture devices, he uses those things to bind you up.
Paddles, whips, vibrators, dildos, gags, he had everything you might want.
U: Unfair (How much they like to tease)
He's very fair, a little too fair, things didn't end till you cum so many times it's painful.
V: Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)
Not really loud, but growls and groans in your ear
W: Wild Card
He loves sharing you with people, Nessian, Feysand, Eris, Lucien, and anyone you want.
X: X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)
MUSCULAR
Every inch of him has muscles, thick arms, legs, cut torso.
Biggest wingspan, obviously.
When you first gripped his cock while busy making out with him, you thought it was his arm.
Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)
Very High
Especially after accepting your mating bond
He needs to be inside you as much as possible
He is dtf anytime, unless you don't want to
Z: ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
He first wants to make sure you're comfortable.
After you are, he sometimes helps you sleep, whether singing to you or giving you a small massage.
He falls asleep to the sound of your comfortable breathing.
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{General taglist - @nox-ceur @sonics-atelier @lilah-asteria}
{Azriel taglist - @fxckmiup @annamariereads16 @saltedcoffeescotch}
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highladyandromeda · 2 days
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Shadows of the Heart
Part 4
Azriel x Fem!Reader
Summary: After years apart, Y/n returns to Velaris, bearing the weight of sacrifice and secrets from her past. Reunited with Rhysand and his Inner Circle, she navigates the complexities of rekindled friendships and unresolved tensions. 
WC: 1.5k
Warnings: n/a
[Prologue], [Part 1], [Part 2], [Part 3]
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Azriel would never confess it aloud, but restless whispers haunted his night—echoes of Y/n’s radiant scarlet gaze and soft, pink lips lingering in his thoughts. The dinner had unfolded in a blur, his embarrassment at his shadows’ untamed curiosity barely contained. Amidst the flurry of attention, Y/n garnered, he found himself sidelined, his usually silent insecurities amplified as laughter and light seemed to orbit her effortlessly. And her unexpected friendship with Lucien, it gnawed on Azriel to watch them exchange glances and secretive smiles, angry at how easily he captured her attention, going as far as to ignore his mate, no matter Azriel’s own dalliances with Elain. 
Muffled by his pillow, Azriel’s sigh was a mix of frustration and anticipation; he longed for dawn, not only captivated by her allure but also intrigued by the essence of her power. Y/n’s presence had marked a rare moment where his shadows' invasive dance hadn’t sparked fear or repulsion—an interaction that lingered persistently in his mind.
So when he made his way to the training ring, expecting to be alone to gather the rest of his thoughts, he was stunned to see a crowd already there. Traditionally the first to arrive, Azriel cherished these moments of quiet preparation before the day's chaos ensued. Yet, there they all were—Cassian joking with the Valkyries, Rhys descending with Feyre in tow, and even Amren positioned with her characteristic aloof observation.
For a moment, Azriel considered questioning the time, so out of sync with his expectations, before his gaze settled on the ring's center. Y/n commanded the space, her figure, cross-legged, suspended above the earth. The sight of her, ensconced in her crimson magic, edged with ethereal white shadows, captivated him wholly.
As her eyes opened, locking with his, a silent acknowledgment passed between them—a momentary connection that sent an unexpected jolt through him.
Dressed in tightly fitted leathers that accentuated her form, she exuded a presence that continued to stun Azriel, compelling him to avert his gaze in a rare display of discomposure. The subtle shift in his demeanor didn’t go unnoticed by Cassian, who, with a chuckle, seized the moment to lighten the mood.
“I guess the training ground got a bit more interesting," Cassian quips, earning an eye roll from Feyre. "So, what are we starting with today? Or are we just here to admire the view?"
Y/n, only smirking at the banter, rose with an elegance that seemed to defy the very nature of gravity. She motioned towards the practice weapons as a dagger flew into each of her hands, inquiring "Who's up for a spar with me?"  
Before the others could process her actions, surprised at her magic; Azriel steps into the ring, the shadows at his command receding as he speaks, "I request the honor."
The agreement is silent but understood—no magic, just the skill of arms. Y/n stood ready, her dual daggers gleaming like extensions of her will, while Azriel, wielding a single dagger with a calm assurance, mirrored her posture. Their duel began with the two warriors slowly circling each other, each step measured and deliberate. 
Y/n's gaze sharpens, her focus solely on Azriel as she searches for any sign of vulnerability, deliberately setting aside the distracting thoughts of how his attire complements the deadly intent in his posture. Despite years of rigorous training, honing both body and mind, she finds herself momentarily caught up in how pretty her opponent’s curly hair is, inviting an almost irrepressible urge to reach out and test the spring of a single curl.
Yet, she's quickly snapped back to reality as Cassian yells– “Oi! Will you two fight or keep making eyes at each other!”
Y/n's cheeks flush with a heat that rivals the morning sun, her focus briefly fractured by Cassian's teasing. The realization that her momentary distraction had been so visible, so palpable to everyone else, ignites a spark of embarrassment within her. She glances up at Azriel’s eyes, expecting to find amusement or perhaps annoyance, but instead, she catches a glimpse of a blush creeping up his neck, a show of discomposure that mirrors her own. 
The air between them, charged with an unexpected tension, shifts as Azriel suddenly lunges forward, his movement a blur of precision and speed. It's a surprising aggression from him, given the usual patience and strategy he displays in combat. A chorus of exclamations erupts from their audience, a mix of surprise and excitement that fills the training ring.
In the split second it took for Azriel to lunge, Y/n's heart skipped a beat—not from fear, but from an electric jolt of understanding. So the spymaster was prone to the same bouts of flusters and rush of emotions as anyone else.
Y/n's reaction was immediate, her training kicking in, allowing her to duck and counter with a swift maneuver, her daggers slicing through the air in an arc aimed at Azriel's midsection. He parries with his blade, the metal singing as it meets her attack, deflecting her strike with a precision that speaks of centuries in the shadows. They break apart for a fraction of a second, assessing each other, before launching back into the fray.
Y/n, wielding twin daggers, utilizes a fighting style that is as much about misdirection and movement as it is about attack, staying in each position for only seconds at a time. Azriel, anticipating this, counters with his single, heavier dagger, meeting Y/n’s attack and attempting to use his opponent's momentum against her. The battle quickly transitions into close-quarters combat, their movements a blur to the onlookers. 
Azriel, seizing an opportunistic moment, aims a strike at her left thigh—a reminder of her old injury. It's a low blow, figuratively speaking, leveraging his knowledge of her past vulnerabilities. But time and her magic have woven strength back into her form, allowing her to sidestep with a grace that hides the remnants of the wound. 
Y/n feints then spins, her dual daggers a whirlwind of deadly intent as she aims for an opening in Azriel's defense. He counters, stepping in close, his single dagger thrusting towards her in a series of rapid strikes that she narrowly deflects.
At that moment, as Y/n faced Azriel, time seemed to dissolve around her, the world narrowing to the space of their duel. She felt an exhilarating rush of clarity, her usually tumultuous mind quieting to a whisper, leaving only the pure, unbridled focus of the fight. Her body moved of its own accord, every step and twist a testament to years of training, her consciousness drifting away from reality, disconnected and free. 
Then, in a breathtaking display of agility, Y/n launched into the air, her body spinning horizontally in a swift, fluid motion. She landed gracefully behind Azriel, catching him off guard. With a precise, rapid swipe, she crouched down and swept his legs from under him, sending him tumbling to the ground. Before the onlookers could even process the move, she was already flipped over him, straddling his chest with a dagger poised at his throat and another aimed at his heart, her actions so lightning-fast, the crowd barely had time to blink.
Pinned beneath Y/n, Azriel found himself momentarily lost, mesmerized by the sight of her above him. Her cheeks were flushed from the exertion, breaths coming slightly heavy, yet there was a glow about her, enhanced by the sunlight that kissed her face, transforming her red eyes into sparkling rubies. At that moment, he couldn't determine what left him more breathless—the intensity of their spar or the sheer force of her presence.
A part of him silently pleaded for her to rise, fearful of how his body might betray him under her proximity. Relief washed over him as she extended her hand, a silent offer to help him up. Instinctively, he reached out, then hesitated, the sudden realization hitting him that she would feel the scars that marred his skin. The thought of pulling back flashed through his mind, but it was too late; she had already grasped his hand. He braced himself for any sign of flinch or disgust, but it never came. She pulled him to his feet, her gaze never dropping to his scars, her touch devoid of any hesitation. The slight smile she offered him at that moment was something he wished he could preserve indefinitely—a memory to be cherished.
Their quiet moment of understanding, however, was swiftly broken by applause and Cassian's booming voice, punctuating the air with both humor and admiration. "That's the most intense spar I've ever seen Az lose!" he exclaimed, clapping Azriel on the back before draping an arm around Y/n.
Rhys, joining in, added, "Clearly, you've been working hard on the continent, Y/n. Even injured, to have the spar last nearly an hour…" His words trailed off, leaving a note of respect hanging between them.
Azriel, his heart still racing from the duel and the exchange that followed, barely registered the passage of time. It had felt like mere minutes to him, not nearly an hour. But before he could think further, Nesta and the Valkyries converged around Y/n, their admiration clear as they bombarded her with questions about her technique, eager to learn from her prowess.
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A/N: Yay! Azriel and Y/n finally had a one on one interaction!! I had a fun time writing this chapter and planning out their spar scene. I've only practiced martial arts with hand-to-hand combat and fencing so dagger fights aren't something I have much experience in -- Y/n's horizontal jump is inspired by the dagger fight in Dune 2, where Paul does that action and it looks really cool.
For my tag list, I tagged everyone who asked and those who commented on the previous parts. If you'd like to be included, please just let me know. 💕
TAGLIST: @strangelygreat @enfppuff @trip-n-sal @inloveallthetime @annamariereads16 @mybestfriendmademe @mariahoedt @annblvd @ania-swissweet @yearninglustfully @sleepylunarwolf @quiettuba @gorlillaglue25 @lilah-asteria @naturakaashi @sillymercury @itsswritten @xlosttdreamss @kennedy-brooke @xyzmeh @lucky7rosie @copenhagenspirit @collide-with-the-music @starsinyourseyes @dianxiaxiexie @maybefoxysouls @golden-canyon @violet-potter @thisiskaylin @acphengene @katherinejess @sevikas-whore @kalulakunundrum @hibye02 @madscamp02 @willowpains
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Is anyone else absolutely DYING to know how Azriel came to have Truth Teller?
Did he get it when he was younger? How long has he had it? Did he find it or was it given to him?
I NEED TO KNOW!!!
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Trauma-Verse -- Part III
Rhysand
A/N: Rhys is hard to write for you know...
---
Summary: Rhysand wakes after a nightmare and struggles with memories of the past, whilst also grappling with the pressure of being High Lord.
Warnings: Allusions to rape, self-harm, nightmares, angst.
Pairings: Rhysand x Feyre
Word Count: 700
Darkness swirled and swarmed. It spread, thick inky blackness across the walls, creeping through the cracks of the door, sloughing off the furniture.
Rhysand had always kept things dark in the room with Her. He made sure of it. The only thing visible through the dim light her shock of red curls. It felt better that way. Safer. That way, he could squeeze his eyes tight enough to hurt, until the swirling colours that formed behind his eyelids took the shape of someone better.
Feyre’s face, hazy and unclear until he had finally found her that Calanmai night. After that, she was as clear as day.
He awoke suddenly from his nightmare: her nails raking down his back, Feyre’s face as she stared death in the eyes, Azriel’s hands, Cassian’s mother. Re-runs of every way he had failed his family.
His sister's screams of pain.
Rhysand emptied the contents of his stomach onto the floor, retching and gasping. Then grimacing he misted it away. He clutched his head in his hands until fingerprints marred his temples.
On shaky legs he staggered to the bathtub, wide enough to accommodate the wings that had sprung forth unprompted, his handle on his writhing magic weak. The water burned his skin as he sunk low, the overpowering scent of lavender rising with the steam. Rhys didn’t care. Didn’t care that as he scrubbed, his skin turned red raw beneath his hand.
It wasn’t enough to clean him. It could never be enough. The dirt was deeper than his skin, running through his blood, pooling in his magic. Infecting his soul. He could never scrub hard enough to rid him of it. But he kept scrubbing.
Before Her, when Rhys was younger, his brothers had been jealous. They tried to hide it, but he remembered clearly Azriel’s envied glances when his mother fussed over his clothes or ruffled his hair. Cassian took his things. Azriel pushed and shoved him. Perfect Rhysand. Prince Rhysand.
High Lord Rhysand.
He should be perfect. He had to be perfect. His nails broke the skin of his forearm. Hissing, he looked down, unfocused eyes watching the water turn red.
Footsteps hurried barefoot across the marble floor. Rhys barely reacted as soft hands smoothed across his shoulders and massaged the nape of his neck. Her hands had been rough, and cruel, with long nails that raked his skin. Feyre’s hands were small, and soft. Feyre’s hands were loving.
“Rhys.” She said, gently disapproving, “Rhys, your arm.”
Rhys sniffed, avoiding her eyes. Feyre clicked her tongue and he raised his head to see her standing with one hand on her hip. His perfect mate. His rock. He had disappointed her, yet again.
“Come on, Darling.” Feyre hauled him up, “Back to bed.”
Rhys shook his head.
“I can’t.”
“Then let’s sit on the balcony together, but no more boiling in the bathtub.”
Rhys relented. He knew better by now than to argue with his mate.
When dawn broke, Rhys’ arm had healed, and he was in bed. Feyre’s cold feet were pressed against his legs. He couldn’t remember falling asleep, but it must have been outside in the cool air of Velaris, Feyre holding him as they looked up at the stars. He wished he could stay forever with her, in her arms, hair tousled and eyes bleary with sleep. But High Lord Rhysand was perfect. High Lord Rhysand did what was expected of him. He rose early, brushed his hair and answered letters.
Cassian greeted him after training, hair falling loose in a way Rhysand could never allow his own to do. He leaned over Rhys and hugged him in his over-affectionate way, covering him in his sweat. Rhys wrinkled his nose, smoothed his clothes, glamoured his scent. Cassian laughed, but didn’t say anything.
He saw Azriel in the evening, at dinner. Feyre was sat with Nyx, spoon feeding him mashed potatoes whilst Mor chatted easily, carrying conversation that he couldn’t keep up with. Azriel was sneaking food onto Rhys’ plate. Adding a potato here and there, some roast beef off his own plate, an extra spoon of dessert.
Rhys frowned at his wife, suspecting her of spilling his secrets, but she simply smiled in return. He knew what she meant.
High Lord Rhysand was perfect. But Rhys didn’t have to be.
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teddyhoneybear · 3 days
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🩷𝓔𝓵𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓸𝔀𝓷 𝓫𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓼 - 𝓜𝓸𝓭𝓮𝓻𝓷 𝓐𝓤 🩷
(ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴇɴᴛɪʀᴇ ꜰᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ)
🕊 In honor of those who have fallen (digital artists caught in the middle of ship wars) 🕊
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serpentandlily · 4 months
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No Going Back - Azriel x Reader
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No Going Back - Azriel x Cassian’sSister!Reader
Summary: Azriel has been your mate, your husband, your love for centuries. But a certain Archeron sister has him questioning your relationship after all this time. You soon find out that there are simply things that can not be unsaid or undone. And sometimes, there are things you can’t come back from.
Warnings: angst angst angst and a little violence
A/n: based on this request. this one hurt guys :(
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Azriel was late. 
Again.
You sighed, leaning back in your chair and tossing your napkin on the table. You had waited for him but at this point, the food was cold and your appetite had disappeared so you began to clear the table instead. 
It had been like this ever since the Archeron sisters had become permanent residents of the Night Court. For months now, your mate had been coming home late, skipping breakfast, leaving the bed before you even woke. He had become a scarce presence in this apartment, the one of the two of you had bought together years and years ago.
Tonight was no different. 
It had started out slow, innocent. Feyre’s sisters were having a hard time adjusting to their new lives and Elain had started clinging to Azriel at some point. You understood why. He was someone who wouldn’t push you more than you needed and would be there for you as a quiet, steady presence. 
You hadn’t minded it at first. Elain was clearly struggling a lot. But at some point, Azriel had begun to prioritize her over you. Whatever Elain needed always came first now. He had canceled dates, skipped out on dinners, left parties early—all for her. 
And it was starting to hurt.
You weren’t stupid nor naive. You knew what was happening. You were watching your mate slowly fall in love with someone else. 
Azriel had always liked playing the hero. First he was the hero for Mor, saving her when she had been discarded in Autumn, beaten and nearly dead. 
And then he was the hero for you. 
You were a bastard born Illyrian, ripped from their mother’s side as soon as you were able to complete chores on your own. You hadn’t known your father. Hadn’t even known you had a brother until he came storming the camp one day, looking for your mother. 
Cassian had almost killed you during his fit of rage once he had learned what your camp had done to your mother. He had gone on a killing spree, sparing no one until he came upon you. But he recognized your scent, took one look at you and immediately knew who you were in relation to him. 
You were only nine when he had saved you from that camp. Cassian took you that day and brought you home with him. Rhys’s mother took you in with no question but Cassian had practically raised you.
You had met Azriel and Rhysand that day as well but you had no idea what the shadowsinger was to you until years and years later. 
Once Rhysand was in power, he banned wing clipping. It pissed the Illyrian males off, of course, which led to them kidnapping you to try and clip your wings as a message for the High Lord, knowing Rhysand cared about you as much as he had cared for his own sister.
Their plan was to keep you locked up until they could get a hold of your brother, Cassian, to tie him up and make him watch what they would do to you. You were beaten within an inch of your life and kept in a cell for three days before Azriel rescued you.
You still remember the image of him stalking into your cell, his eyes lit with a feral rage. He looked like a dark Angel straight from Hell. The minute his gaze found yours, the mating bond snapped into place. 
Azriel saved you and your wings that day. And afterwards, he sat by your bedside night and day until you were fully healed. He held you through all the nightmares, waited patiently for you to be ready to accept the mating bond. And then he had trained you into a fortified spy and warrior, an equal. 
But none of that mattered now.
None of that mattered because now there was a new damsel that needed saving.
And it wasn't you.
Not anymore.
You pulled out your weapons bag from the closet and began to lay out your daggers and swords on the dining table. You had devised a plan to make Azriel feel more needed in your relationship because maybe that was what was lacking. At least, you hoped that's all this was. You hoped he wasn't truly falling in love with another female. 
Rhys had given you a job today that was supposed to be for both you and Azriel, but you were going to ask for his help—make him feel like you need him and hopefully that would make him come back to you. 
An hour later, you heard the front door open and close before his scent of cedar and night-chilled mist filled the apartment. You smiled, turning around to greet him. He gave you a half-smile in response. 
You stood on your tippy toes to kiss him as he passed by, but he swerved his head to the side, making your kiss land on his cheek instead. Your heart clenched as he walked away. 
"You're finally home," you said, trying to not let the hurt you felt seep into your tone. "I saved you some dinner if you're hungry."
He shook his head, sitting on the couch to unlace his boots. 
"That's alright. I already ate," he replied, barely looking at you.
Your fingers tightened around the dagger in your hand. Elain had cooked him dinner again, that much was obvious. Your smile dropped as the scent of jasmine and honey met your nose, only confirming your suspicions. 
Azriel strode to you now, looking over your shoulder at all the weapons on the table. 
"What's this?" 
"Rhys gave me a mission—some spy work in Hewn City," you said. "I was going to leave to complete it tomorrow but I was hoping you'd come with me. I could use the help." 
Azriel snorted. "When was the last time you needed help?”
You frowned as he breezed by you, heading towards the stairs that led to the loft where your bedroom was. "It's a high value, dangerous target. I guess I could do it alone but I would feel better if you were there with me."
"I can't, Y/n," he said, stopping at the bottom of the stairs to look at you. "I'm sorry. I already made plans with Elain."
Your heart dropped to your stomach. Here he was, once again picking Elain over you.
"Really? And you can't cancel those plans just for the day? I really need your help, Az."
"You don't," he said. "I trained you, babe. I know you don't need my help anymore." 
"Well maybe I just need you. It's that so bad? Maybe I just want to do this with you."
"I'm sorry, but Elain needs me."
You threw your hands in the air, your cheeks turning red. "What does Elain need that is so important that you can't reschedule it for a different day?" 
"She wants to go into the city. Wants to see more of Velaris. It's a huge step for her, Y/n. One she needs me for."
"And Feyre can't take her? Or Nesta? She has two sisters who are perfectly capable of showing her around Velaris."
"Well, she asked me," Azriel sighed. "And I already agreed."
"Why is it that you can bail on me all the time, miss dinners with me, skip out on our dates," you growled. "But the moment it comes to Elain, you won't even bother rescheduling a simple outing?"
Azriel narrowed his eyes at you and crossed his arms over his chest. "What exactly are you insinuating, Y/n?"
Your heart was pounding, a sick feeling in your stomach. How could he not see? How could he not see how much he was choosing her over you, his own mate?
"I'm just saying that you've been spending a lot of time with Elain," you argued. "I hardly see you anymore, Az. I just want my mate back." 
"Well, you're not the one who needs me right now, Y/n. You're not the one who's gone through immeasurable trauma. You're not the one who just barely stopped starving yourself. Elain needs help right now. Am I supposed to just turn my back on her after everything she's been through?"
You wanted to laugh. You would've if you weren't so upset. Elain wasn't the only person in Prythian to go through trauma. All of you had gone through so much. For him to disregard you like that… after everything… you felt your heart cracking into pieces. 
"She has her sisters to help her! Even Nuala and Cerridwen have been helping her adjust to life here! Why does she need you as well?"
"I can't believe you're acting like this," Azriel snarled. "I'm tired, Y/n. I don’t want to do this right now.”
"Acting like what? Acting upset because my mate is prioritizing someone else? Upset that my mate is barely home these days? Upset that my mate has been spending all his time with another female? How would you feel? How would you feel if I started spending all my time with another male, Azriel? How would you feel waking up to an empty bed, eating dinner alone while I was out with another guy?"
"It's not like that and you know it! Don't make this about you, Y/n. I thought you were better than that."
"Are you serious, Az? I have been nothing but patient and kind. I have given you so much grace. I have had to sit back and watch my mate cater to another female for months now. Months! And I only ask for one day. For you to come with me for one job and you can't even do that?" 
"Well, you can wait a little longer," Azriel said, his face cut from stone. "She needs me right now. Me. Not Feyre. Not Nesta. Not Nuala and Cerridwen. Me."
"What about her own godsdamn mate!"
"She doesn't want him and she owes him nothing. She doesn't want his help,” Azriel growled. You didn’t miss the flash of jealousy in his eyes that made your stomach twist.
"Of course she doesnt. Why would she when she can just use my mate instead? I can't believe you're picking her over me, Azriel."
"I'm not picking her over you! And I wouldn't."
"You already have! Each and every day you choose her over me. Why? Please, Azriel, explain it to me because I don't understand!"
"I already told you," Azriel growled. "She is going through a lot at the moment. You don't need me right now but she does."
"I don't care what she needs! I don't care! I'm tired of pretending like this doesn't bother me. She clearly has feelings for you and instead of discouraging her, instead of distancing yourself, you just keep running back to her! Why? You owe me an answer, Azriel!"
"I already told—”
"The truth, Azriel! Give me the fucking truth."
"Fine," Azriel snarled, his eyes going dark, his face as cold as the winter snow outside. 
The room was silent for a moment. Silent except for your heavy breathing, your heart still echoing in your chest. You felt like you were going to be sick. You hadn't expected to blow up like this but you couldn't take it anymore. 
Finally Azriel let out a sigh, deflating a bit. "I've been spending some time thinking… of us, of our family, of everything and I can't help… I can't help but think maybe the cauldron got things wrong. It doesn't make sense. Three sisters, three brothers. My brothers got two of the sisters but the other one is given to another? I can't help but question everything, Y/n. You have to understand. You know the cauldron doesn't always get things right… maybe it got this wrong."
With every word he spoke, your heart cracked more and more. You blinked in disbelief, staring at the male that you had called your love for over two hundred years now. A male you had built your life with, a male you were connected to in a very primal sense of the word. A male you had expected to be with forever.
And here he was, telling you he thinks the cauldron was wrong in making the two of you mates. Telling you that he thinks some other female should be his mate. He might as well stick a dagger straight through your heart. You were certain that would be less painful than this.
Gods, your ears were ringing. Tears lined your eyes. All of your paranoia the last few months, your feelings of inadequacy every time you saw Elain, the female he was spending all this time with over you, all of it was true. He had been falling in love with another girl… right in front of you and your family. 
"Say something," Azriel murmured. "Please."
You blinked, hugging yourself as his words replayed in your mind over and over again.
"Is that… Is that how you truly feel? Would you really rather have Elain as a mate? You think we shouldn't have been mated… that the cauldron made a mistake?"
"Fuck, I don't know! I don't know, Y/n. All I know is that my two brothers are mated to two sisters and the third… Elain.... I can't help but wonder if we would be better suited together. I'm sorry, Y/n, but you have to understand how it looks from my perspective. Please."
You shook your head, backing up. 
"So that's what you've been doing? Testing the waters? Seeing if she would be a better wife to you, a better partner?"
"No, fuck, this is coming out all wrong," Azriel groaned. "It didn't start out that way, please believe me, Y/n. I never intended on developing feelings for her. It just sort of happened naturally and I… I've just been trying to wrap my head around it all."
You couldn't breath, couldn't think.
Your mate, your husband, your one true love had fallen for another girl. Believed that he should be mated to her instead of you. 
Were you not good enough for him? Not pretty enough? Not powerful enough? What did Elain have that you didn’t?
"So you think that you and Elain should be mates. Your brothers got mated to two beautiful high fae females, and you… you're the one struck with some lowly Illyrian and not the other beautiful sister. So it must be a mistake, right?"
"Don't turn it into that, Y/n. Don't diminish it," Azriel snapped. "It has nothing to do with your looks or who is more beautiful or High Fae. I could care less about that shit."
"But it does, doesn't it? You already think you're so unworthy and this just proves it. To be mated to an Illyrian and not the third made sister."
"I knew I should've never talked to you about this," Azriel growled. "I was trying to figure it out on my own. I didn't want to hurt you, Y/n. I didn't want this to happen."
"Well it has and you did," you snapped. 
He had hurt you. Immensely so. 
Tears began to drip down your cheeks. Azriel took a step towards you at the sight of your tears but stopped himself. Your chest heaved as you turned around, staring out the window in your apartment to Velaris, where people were laughing and dancing on the streets. Partying, having the time of their lives, while yours was ending.
"Y/n—"
“Have you slept with her? Kissed her? Have you cheated on me with Elain?”
“I-I…Y/n, I’m sorry. Please—”
That was enough of an answer for you. You couldn’t even fathom the thought of kissing another male and here was Azriel, basically confessing that he fucked Elain behind your back.
You wanted to scream. Wanted to throw things at him. Wanted to tear this whole apartment down. 
"Get out."
"What?"
"Get out," you snapped. "Get out!"
You heard a resigned sigh before the front door opened and closed. He hadn't even tried to fight for you. Hadn't tried to make things better. He just left… left you falling apart, with no one to pick up the pieces of your breaking heart.
A sob finally broke out from your lips and you crumbled to the floor, crying your heart out. 
────────────
You lingered in the shadows in the alleyway across from the illustrious bar in Hewn City. Your target had gone inside over an hour ago and you were waiting for him to leave so you could trail him back to his apartment. 
You knew you shouldn’t be here right now. You were being reckless. Your mind was still a mess from last night, your heart broken. Every breath came with a deep pain in your chest. You wanted nothing more than to go home and cry and cry… but you were hoping this would distract you from the pain Azriel had left you with.
You had tried tugging on the bond a little earlier but you were met with an obsidian wall. Azriel had completely closed you off and you knew that meant he was with Elain, pretending to be her mate instead of yours.
You squeezed your eyes shut, your breath trembling as a few tears slid down your cheeks. Was he fucking her right now? Bringing her flowers and kissing her the way he used to with you?
Why weren’t you enough for him? Why weren’t you the female he wanted? The cauldron had gifted the two of you a mating bond and still it wasn’t enough to make him want you apparently.
The door to the bar swinging open had you standing up straight. A handsome High Fae male walked out from it and your eyes narrowed on your target. You slinked away in the shadows, following him down the streets.
He turned a corner and you rushed to follow, twisting to face the dark alleyway only to see it empty. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you walked down the narrow path.
You were halfway down the dark alleyway when you felt the cold tip of a dagger press against your throat. It pricked your skin, causing blood to trickle down your neck.
“Well what do we have here? A little Illyrian female, all by herself,” his voice purred from behind you. “Did you think I didn’t notice you following me, little bird?”
He spun you around, pressing you back against the wall, dagger still at your throat.
You tried to use your magic but your siphons sputtered out. It took you a minute to realize that his dagger was coated in faebane. You let out a panicked cry, trying to kick him away but he only pressed his body further against you. 
You were so fucked. You tried to tug on the mating bond again, if only to reach Azriel so he could send help. But that obsidian wall was still there. 
“I know who you are,” the male murmured. “That bastard’s sister. The shadowsinger’s mate.”
“Let me go,” you snarled, trying to twist from his grip but he pressed his dagger against your neck harder, making you stop.
“I don’t think so,” he teased, smiling. “You and I are going to have a lot of fun together, sweetheart.” 
He spun you around again, pressing your face into the brick wall. You cried as you felt his dagger run down your wing.
You tugged and tugged on the mating bond. Only silence greeted you. 
“But first, I think you’d look so much prettier without these.”
You died at the first drag of his dagger down the base of your wing. Died as he dug that dagger into the tendon, ripping up the nerves and muscle. Died as he severed off your left wing before moving to your right. Died as excruciating pain rattled your entire body.
Died as you cried out for your mate, for your brother, for anyone to come save you as the male laughed at your pleas.
Died as you tugged and tugged on your mating bond, crying and pleading for Azriel over and over again only to be met with cold, bitter silence. 
You died in that alleyway before your heart had even stopped beating.
────────────
Azriel grabbed the plate of brussel sprouts from Elain, nudging the kitchen door open with his shoulder, and walking into the dining room. He placed the plate on the dining table, smiling at Elain lightly as she followed him with a large bowl of mashed potatoes.
Rhysand, Feyre, Amren, Cassian and Nesta were already at the table, waiting. He took a seat next to Elain and Rhysand shot him a confused look. 
“Az, where’s Y/n?” 
Azriel shrugged. “Still on the mission you sent her on.”
“What?”
“The job in Hewn City?”
Rhysand looked even more confused. “Why aren’t you with her? I specifically told her not to go alone–to take you with her. This was a two person job.”
“She didn’t tell me that,” Azriel said, also confused.
“Wait, what’s going on?” Cassian asked. 
“I gave your sister a report about some happenings in Hewn City that I needed her and Azriel to check out. But I made it very clear that it was a job with a dangerous target. What did she say to you about it, Azriel?”
Azriel felt his face heat up as all the attention fell on him. “She asked me to go with her but I was meant to take Elain into the city today so I told her I couldn’t. She never told me that you ordered her to take me with her.” 
Rhysand cursed, standing up. Cassian jolted at Rhysand’s reaction, also standing up in a panic. 
“She asked you to go and you told her no?” Cassian asked, his voice darker now as he stared at his sister’s mate. “Why the fuck would you let her go alone if she asked you for help?”
“I didn’t think she would need help,” Azriel said, carefully, also rising from his seat. “She didn’t tell me that Rhys said it was dangerous!”
“She shouldn’t need to! My sister asked you for your help, your mate asked you for help, and you told her no? Why the fuck would you do that?”
“Elain needed help,” Azriel argued back. 
Elain’s cheeks turned red as the attention drifted to her for a second. “I just wanted to see more of the city. I’m sorry.”
“Why didn’t you ask one of us to take her?” Feyre questioned, staring at Azriel with an odd look. “I could’ve or Nesta.” 
Elain turned even more red, pressing her lips together. Amren’s eyes darted between the pair, narrowing. 
“You’ve both been messing around behind Y/n’s back, haven’t you?” Amren had always been too observant. 
“What?” Cassian exclaimed, his face darkening. “That’s not true, Azriel? Right? He wouldn’t do that to his mate. He wouldn’t do that to Y/n.”
Azriel said nothing, shame pouring down on him. But he didn’t have to. Dark talons ripped open his mental shield, sorting through his mind.
“Get the fuck out of my head, Rhysand,” Azriel snarled, baring his teeth. 
Rhysand had seen enough, his face paling as he stared at Azriel with wide eyes. Cassian’s face dropped.
“What did you see, Rhys?” He asked.
“Amren’s right,” Rhys barely choked out. “Azriel… how could you? Y/n is your mate.”
“I’m going to fucking kill you!” Cassian roared, hopping over the dining table to tackle Azriel to the floor. Elain screamed, barely making it out of range as the two males fell to the floor. He only managed to land a punch before Rhysand pulled him away. 
“We can’t do this right now,” Rhysand growled. “We need to find Y/n. She shouldn’t be in Hewn City alone. I’ve been trying to reach her but I can’t sense her.”
“What do you mean you can’t sense her?” Cassian was more panicked now. 
“Are you sure she went to Hewn City today, Azriel? I should be able to reach her from this distance.”
“I’m not sure, I assumed.”
“What the fuck do you mean you’re not sure?” Cassian glared at him, crossing his arms over his broad chest.
Azriel had the good sense to look away, rubbing the back of his neck. “We had a bit of an argument last night. She kicked me out so I was giving her space. When I went back this morning, she was already gone.”
“Why didn’t you go after her? Why were you guys fighting?” Feyre asked. 
“She figured it out, didn’t she?” Amren interjected again. “She found out about you and Elain.”
Cassian let out a curse. “Fuck! Find out where my sister is, Azriel, or I swear to the Gods I will fucking end you.”
“Cassian,” Nesta chastised, placing a hand on his arm to calm him down. But he shrugged her hand off, too angry at the fact that his friend had hurt his sister so badly. 
Azriel didn’t need to be told. He was also panicking now, wondering why you hadn’t told him that he was supposed to go with you today. He would question it later, for now he just wanted to find you. He opened his end of the mating bond back up, feeling guilty that he had kept you closed off all day.
He gasped, folding over, as a wave of your emotions crashed into him. 
Fear. 
You were sending pure fear down the bond. 
“What? What is it?!”
Cassian grabbed Azriel by the upper arms. Azriel ignored him, tugging on the bond, hoping you would respond but nothing. Nothing but fear and pain traveled back to him. His shadows exploded around him, wailing in agony.
“She… She’s in danger,” Azriel gasped. “I need to go. I need to—”
He didn’t say anything else before he disappeared in a swirl of shadows. He stepped out into Hewn City, racing down the streets, trying to follow the mating bond to you. He heard Rhysand winnow in behind him with Cassian but he didn’t pause.
He shouted your name as he ran, pushing faeries out of the way, trampling through stalls. Rhysand and Cassian were right behind him. He ran and ran into the even shadier parts of the city, until it led him to a dark alleyway.
He paused as he scented blood. A small figure was curled up on the floor, in a pool of blood. No one else in sight. He rushed forward, screaming your name in terror as he realized it was you lying in a pool of your own blood.
He skidded to a halt, falling to his knees next to you. He let out a cry and pulled you into his lap. Your wings. Your wings were gone. Your back was covered in deep wounds, your heartbeat so faint he almost couldn’t hear it. He let out a wail, shaking your limp body in his arms.
“No,” he cried. “No no no no no.” 
He patted your cheek. “Wake up, baby. Please, wake up!”
Your eyes remained closed, your body still limp.
He heard Rhysand and Cassian come to a stop behind him, panting. Cassian let out a noise of horror at the sight of his wingless sister, turning around to vomit against the wall. Rhysand cursed, kneeling next to Azriel.
Azriel growled at him, yanking your body closer to his chest.
“Azriel,” Rhysand said, softly. “We need to get her back to Velaris. She needs a healer, now, before she bleeds out.”
Azriel let out a cry, standing up and hoisting you into his arms. Rhysand placed a hand on Azriel and Cassian, winnowing them back to the River House. Azriel brushed past the group waiting in the foyer, ignoring their cries of alarm as he rushed into one of the bedrooms and placed your body on the bed.
He knelt down next to you, grabbing your hand as tears poured down his face. Your breaths were growing thinner, your heartbeat fading. He could feel the mating bond slowly tearing itself apart.
“Don’t do this,” he cried. “Please, Y/n, you can’t do this to me. You can’t die. You don’t get to do this. Not like this. Please.”
Cassian burst into the room, Madja right behind him. The older female let out a long breath at the sight of you on the bed and immediately got to work. Cassian ripped Azriel away from you, tossing him on the ground.
“Please,” Azriel begged Madja. “Please don’t let her die. Please.”
“She’s not going to die,” Madja proclaimed. “Not on my watch. But you all need to get out of my way. Send one of my healers in here to assist me.”
It took both Cassian and Rhysand to drag Azriel out of the room and away from his heavily injured mate. They had barely made it back to the living room when he was suddenly slammed against the wall.
Cassian’s fist met his jaw and he felt blood pool in his mouth. Cassian punched him again and again, crashing to the floor with him as Azriel’s legs gave out. 
“You fucking prick,” Cassian shouted. “You were supposed to be there with her and you let her go alone! You did this! This is your fault!”
Feyre was sobbing in the background, being held back by Rhysand who knew better than to get in between two Illyrian’s fighting. Elain, on the other hand, rushed forward.
“Azriel!”
But Nesta grabbed her before she could get any farther. Her face paled as Cassian growled at her. “I’ll deal with you later.”
Elain let out a noise of distress, looking at Nesta but Nesta just pressed her lips together and looked away, disappointed.
Cassian focused his attention back on Azriel. He pummeled him, shouting and screaming. They were both crying, a mess of blood and tears. 
“You are her mate! You were supposed to protect her! And you failed–You failed her!”
Azriel barely fought back. He let Cassian beat him up knowing he deserved it.
Rhysand finally placed a hand on Cassian’s shoulder. “Enough.”
Cassian paused, still crouched over Azriel. He grabbed the shadowsinger by the collar before slamming his head back on the ground and leaning in close to snarl in his ear.
“I will never forgive you for this. Never.” 
Rhysand grabbed him by the back of his shirt, lifting him off of Azriel. 
“Cassian, your sister needs you right now,” Rhys murmured. “She’s more important.” 
“If I see his face again, I will kill him, Rhys,” Cassian snarled at his High Lord. “I swear to the Gods I will.” 
“I know,” Rhys whispered with his own despair. He knew this was the last time he’d see Azriel and Cassian together. Knew his family was about to be torn apart for the first time in centuries. “I know.”
Cassian spit out blood on Azriel before storming away, back to the room where his sister lay unconscious. Azriel sat up slowly, pushing himself back against the wall and drawing his knees up to his chest. He hung his head between his knees, tears dropping onto the wooden floor.
Rhysand knelt down next to him. “Azriel, what the fuck? Why would you… what have you done?”
“I fucked up, Rhys,” Azriel muttered. “I fucked up.” 
────────────
You woke up days later. You immediately felt the absence of your wings. You groaned, trying to sit up and failing. A glass shattered against the floor and you looked up to see Azriel hovering in the doorway.
“You’re awake. Don’t… don’t try to move,” he breathed out, rushing forward. He knelt down next to the bed, grabbing your hand as tears formed in his eyes. “You’re awake.”
You pulled your hand away from him. He was the last person you wanted to see right now. It hurt just to see his face, his words were constantly replaying in your head along with the image of him and Elain together. The last thing you remembered was trying to call for help down the mating bond and being met with silence. 
“My wings are gone,” you whispered, more to yourself than anything. Your voice was hoarse, raspy from disuse. “My wings…”
“I know. I know and I’m so sorry, Y/n. You have no idea how sorry I am,” Azriel pleaded. “Gods, I am so fucking sorry, baby. For everything. For everything I said to you. For what I’ve done. For closing off the mating bond. For not going with you to Hewn City. I am so sorry.”
You said nothing. Just stared at him. What could you say? He had cheated on you, closed you off, left you alone. You had lost your wings because of him.
“Baby, please, say something.”
“I want Cassian,” you whispered. “I want my brother.” 
“I know, just please,” Azriel cried. “Please, just talk to me. I am so sorry, baby. I am so sorry. I will do anything for your forgiveness. I will do anything to fix this.”
“Cassian,” you murmured again. “I want Cassian!”
“I know, I know,” Azriel said. “Just please tell me what I can do to fix this. I will do anything. I’m sorry for what I said. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done. I regret it so much. I’m sorry I ignored you. I’m sorry I didn’t go with you. I’m so sorry. Please just tell me we can fix this.”
You choked on a sob, turning over so you didn’t have to look at him anymore. 
“I can’t unhear your words, Azriel. I can’t forget how you betrayed me,” you cried. “And I will never be able to forget how I cried for help and you closed me off. There are some things you just can’t unsay or undo. There is no going back from this.” 
“Please,” Azriel’s voice was full of sadness and regret but all you could feel was the pain he had caused you. “That can’t be true.”
“Please, leave,” you whispered, your tears sliding off onto your pillow. “Please.” 
“I can’t, Y/n. I can’t leave you. Not like this. I love you.”
“No, you don’t,” You said, softly. “We both know you don’t. I know who you love and it isn’t me, Azriel. Now please, leave. I’m begging you. There is no going back. There is no future for us after this. Please, just leave.” 
Silence so loud, it felt like the air was screaming. There was no denying your words. Azriel might regret what he did, but it didn’t change the fact that he did it. Those words had come from his mouth. He had made a choice when he decided to fuck Elain behind your back. He didn’t want you as his mate anymore.
Maybe he never did. 
You heard Azriel sigh and stand, his footsteps retreating. The door opening and closing was both your relief and your undoing. 
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shadowdaddies · 2 months
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friendly competition among the shadow daddies
artwork by the amazing elenana.art on Instagram
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thelov3lybookworm · 16 days
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As a slut for angst today “tolerate it” has been stuck on a loop and now I am imaging an angsty fic where Az just slowly begins to forget about reader and she threatens to leave but he doesn’t take her seriously and is so utterly destroyed when he comes back home and she’s gone…
Like I feel like it’s on brand with him and his duty to his job and whatnot. Plus the lyrics are so him coded “while you were out building worlds where was I” / “took this dagger in me and removed it” LIKE HELLO???
(But I also love a good happy ending so I feel like if azzy groveled hard enough… 👀)
Tolerate it.
Summary: She is fed up.
•○●⛦●○•
A/n: ehehehehehe angsttttt yummy yummyyyy
Enjoy!
•○🌑○•
Y/n laughed at Feyre's pathetic attempts at skipping the large puddle on the ground accumulated due to the rains that had Velaris freezing overnight.
Feyre failed miserably, her boots and leggings getting wet from the splash that signalled her downfall against the watery enemy of hers. But Feyre was not fazed. She simply laughed alongside Y/n, her eyes crinkling as the two of them made their way back to the river house.
It was visible already now, Y/n could even make out the grains in the wood of the door as it opened, and her brother in laws, along with her mate, spilled out.
Y/n could see from the corner of her eyes as her sister lit up at seeing her mate, her husband and the father of her child. The moment his eyes met her, she took off, her arms spread as she ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck. Rhysand did not hold back either, clutching Feyre to her chest with as much enthusiasm as she held him.
It made Y/n smile.
Y/n then glanced behind the embracing couple to her mate, the overwhelming urge to hug him too and to claim him in front of anyone watching making her start walking towards him without even realising.
Which was reckless, as the moment he realised she was walking towards him to hug him? He took a step back.
Y/n knew that he hated being affectionate in front of others, but this was cruel.
So to not get embarrassed by his rejection, Y/n turned swiftly towards Cassian, her other brother in law, who stood not too far from where Azriel did, and hugged him instead.
Cassian, Mother bless his heart, did not even question it.
He wrapped his arms around Y/n and literally lifted her off the ground, cackling when Y/n's fist made contact with his shoulder over and over again as she demanded to be put down.
Y/n had to stop herself from thinking back to that day. She did not want to relive the pain she had felt, the sadness and anger.
Y/n watched his eyes fluttering, wondering if he was dreaming. Wondering who he was dreaming about.
It definitely was not her, that was for sure.
Y/n, feeing a little sadness taking root in her heart, returned to the portrait in her hands, questioning if it would even be worth it finishing it up when he sure as hell wouldn't even acknowledge it. Or her.
Y/n glanced at the paint supplies she had placed on the coffee table next to her, having wanted to capture a moment of him letting his guard down, of him being vulnerable using her best paints, knowing he would not care.
She guessed living for as long as he had, life and the small things didn't matter as much anymore. Maybe that was why he loved to go on the missions Rhysand, Y/n's brother in law, gave him.
It probably gave him the thrill nothing else did anymore.
With Y/n's sister just having given birth to the starlight of the court, Rhys had become more and more protective, sending his brothers and anyone and everyone at his disposal to check and report about every trivial thing that made his primal mate and father side get protective.
Slowly, Y/n reached for the brush that rested in the cup half filled with coloured water, deciding to finish the half done portrait. If he did not care... she did not now what she would do then, but she did know she was tired of being tolerated by him.
But what could she even do? It was not like she could just up and leave.
Y/n blinked.
Or... could she?
Y/n shook her head, as if to dislodge the though, and with a sigh, she let herself get lost in the soft skill of painting her sister had taught her long ago, when staying up and huddling under worn blankets was the only thing bringing any warmth.
Trying not to think about the fact that the last time she remembered him caring for her, genuinely caring for her, was only when the two had been in their early stages of relation ship and the mating bond was a very new experience to a newly made fae Y/n, she continued using the soft and strong, long and short strokes to finish up her latest masterpiece.
Of course, Y/n never would call herself a creator of masterpieces, but any and all art that included her perfect mate was destined to be a masterpiece.
Time lost its meaning, and all that mattered was capturing the perfect angle for his eyes, nose, lips, shoulder.
Nothing existed but Y/n, her art, and her muse.
Nothing existed but the soft rise and fall of his back as he lay sprawled on his stomach, the effortless way his wings draped across the whole bed, taking up space three wingless fae could have slept in.
Where Y/n would have slept in, on days when everything had been filled with stars and dreams, wrapped under his warm wing like it were a living blanket.
When he pretended he was nothing, absolutely nothing but her mate. Her husband. Not a spymaster, not a shadowsinger, not a brother. Just her mate, her lover.
Those days were far gone now.
•○🌑○•
Despite the fact that she knew he would most definitely not care, Y/n was excited.
And that was downplaying what she felt.
The wait was killing her, the amount of adrenaline in her bloodstream making her want to jump around to get rid of the energy that made her shiver, her limbs going cold and warm at the same time. She had to push her fists together and shove them between her thighs to keep them from shaking, which did not help at all.
So Y/n waited, her body clenched in anticipation as she stared at the doorway that led into the living room, a big grin on her face.
She glanced once at the sketchpad in front of her on the table, admiring her artwork for a moment.
She never liked whatever she made, always feeling like it lacked something. So for her to be excited to show off her art to her mate was a huge indication to how much she loved the portrait.
The familiar scuff of worn boots drew Y/n's attention, and she shot to her feet, pressing her fists to the back of her thighs.
It had become a habit of Azriel's, to purposefully make some noise before he stepped in view so as not to startle her with his appearance.
The action melted Y/n's heart every single time.
He stepped into view, as ethereal as the day Y/n had first seen him as a human, just as beautiful as he had looked that day as he tried to get comfortable on the small chair in the manor on the other side of the wall, just as loveable as that day when she had ended up losing her heart to the low born fae that should have intimated her.
He was fumbling with his armor, making sure it was all secured properly before he left for whatever mission Rhys assigned him for that day.
He glanced up just as he walked past Y/n to the kitchen counter, a small smile gracing his face before his attention was again diverted.
Y/n tried not to deflate at his lack of enthusiasm.
"Good morning love. Look-"
"Good morning Y/n." He cut her off, his voice void of emotions, as if he was tired of saying the same thing every morning and wanted to get it over with. He didn't even glance at Y/n as he said it, and Y/n pretended not to notice that he used her name instead of whatever endearing name he would have picked before.
"I will be on a scouting trip to Illyria, and after I have a meeting and dinner scheduled with Rhys and Cass, so I will be late coming home. Don't wait up."
Y/n's smile faded. "Don't wait up or stay out of my way?"
Azriel froze. "What?"
Y/n released a humourless laugh. "Nothing. Go have fun."
Azriel turned, giving her a hard look. "You know I would rather stay at home with you."
Doubtful.
Y/n so badly wanted to say it to his face, but she did not want to fight with him so early in the morning, so she sighed, smiled and nodded.
He started walking towards the door, and despite her anger, Y/n walked forward to kiss his cheek.
She did not miss how he recoiled.
Y/n masked the hurt before he could see it, and he gave her an awkward smile before he maneuvered to walk around her, careful not to brush against her.
Y/n watched him walk away, staring hard at the door even long after he'd left.
She then glanced at the portrait she had abandoned on the table, and, her heart hardening, turned away.
She was tired of having her love be tolerated, and she would not have it be that way anymore.
Either he accept her love the way it was, loud and clear, or he go find someone else.
And so, she turned, walked up the stairs to the bedchambers she shared with Azriel, and began to turn it back into just his bedchambers.
She would no longer be tolerated only because some godly entity thought she and him would make great, powerful kids and tied them together with a string.
She deserved to be cherished.
•○🌑○•
Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @eve175
Azriel Taglist: @darthdumbasss @foreverrandomwritings @azrielsmate3 @celestialend
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yourejinx · 3 months
Text
Late Nights
Azriel x F.Reader
Warnings: NSFW, smut, +18, minors dni. Oral, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v. A bit of fluff? I think that's it.
Author's note: I wanted to try something different, this is my first time writing content like this so please be gentle but also PLEASE FEEDBACK.
Word count: 4k
It was the fourth night in a row that you were deprived from sleep, cursed with listening Cass and Nesta fuck like rabbits in the room next to yours. In all honesty, you loved your friends and were absolutely thrilled they were enjoying and exploring the extent of their relationship, they deserved it after everything they went through. You just wished they had a little consideration for your poor ears and sleeping schedule. 
You had been working your ass off the past few weeks, Rhys had you and Az going around the courts every other day, plus you've been dealing with Eris, since you seemed to be the only member in the Inner Circle that the Autumn heir tolerated just fine. So you had your plate full, and wished for a little peace and quiet at your own home. But your friends had other plans.
Nesta let out a particularly loud moan that you clearly heard through the too thin wall. It made you grimace and you decided you had enough. Huffing, you tossed the sheets off your body, grabbed the shirt you had stolen from the shadowsinger years ago and opened the door, putting on the clothing while you made your way down the corridor. If you were awake, then Azriel had to be too, he didn't miss a thing happening in this house. 
You didn't bother knocking on his door, you were way past that line with him. Azriel was your best friend, your confident, the person who you most trusted in the entire world, and vice versa. You were too comfortable with each other to bother with politeness. You flung open the door to his bedroom, making your way inside and slamming the door behind you dramatically. The room was dark except for the dim fae light hanging on his bedside table, Azriel had put down the book he was reading to stare at you amusedly. 
"Good evening to you too." He uttered playfully.
You didn't reply, just scowled, walked up to the other side and plopped down face first on the bed beside him. He chuckled. 
"Finding it hard to sleep?" He asked, setting the book aside. 
"They are insufferable." You mumbled around the sheets. They smelled like him, an instant comfort for your tired mind. "Agh! You can hear them from here too! How are you not bothered?!?" You lift your head from his pillows to look at him exasperatedly. 
Azriel smiled somewhat apprehensive at you. "I'm kind of used to it by now." He shrugged. 
You narrowed your eyes at him, smirking. "Kinky."
He rolled his eyes feigning annoyance. "You have no idea, sweetheart." His voice was a deep purr as he smirked back at you. 
You lifted one eyebrow in amusement. There was this recurrent thing between you two, where you usually teased and flirted with each other but never dared to actually do something about it. It was just for fun right? You were friends who just liked messing around as a joke. Always dancing the line between friends and something more, it was a dangerous game for sure, but you had to admit you loved the thrill of it. 
“Is that so? Oh please, do enlighten me then.” You shot back, lying more comfortably on his bed. Arms behind your head, eyes fixed on him. 
Hazel gaze traveled all the way down to the now exposed skin of your upper thighs, your movement had caused the shirt – his shirt– to ridden up a little, revealing more of your legs and the underline of a pair of lacy black panties. His pulse spiked slightly at the sight. You didn’t seem to notice, he averted his eyes before you could catch him shamelessly staring at you.  
There was a glint in your eyes when he caught your stare again, a slight flush to your cheeks, but he didn’t back off. 
“Curious now, are we?” He tilted his head, resting his cheek on his fist to properly look at you. 
“Ah, don’t flatter yourself, pretty boy. You brought it up, are you backing out?” 
Azriel opened his mouth to respond, a playful spark dancing in his golden eyes, when—
“Fuck, Ness!” Cassian’s growl reached both your ears as clear as day. There was a beat of silence after that where you just stared at each other stunned, then you broke in a fit of laughter. 
“Seriously Az, I don’t know how you endure it, if I have to listen to them one more night I’m gonna lose my shit. I haven’t slept in days,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. “and neither have you, it seems.” you pointed out, poking open one eye to stare at him. Azriel had laid back facing you, wings tucked behind his back, shoulders involuntarily curving inwards, a sign of tiredness. You noted the dark circles under his eyes. 
“I look that shitty, huh?” he smiled tiredly.  
“Never.” You stated matter-of-factly. “You’re always pretty.” 
It was his turn to blush then, heat rapidly crawling to his face and neck. He could handle your flirting, your teasing, but he didn’t know how to react when you blatantly called him pretty. It just sounded so…sincere, coming from you. It made his heart flutter in his chest. It was no secret that he found you attractive, he thought he made that clear, but there was more to that, wasn’t there? He didn’t just think you were hot, he thought you were beautiful, smart, and kind, and it freaked the hell out of him to acknowledge all those things because that would mean that he wanted more. More than being your friend, but it terrified him to ruin your friendship. If you wanted him in the same way, you would’ve said something by now, right? You’ve known each other for years. 
“What are you thinking about?” you whispered, breath fanning across his face. He hadn’t noticed how close you were. He could feel the heat radiating from your body. 
“I’m thinking that we should sleep.” He answered, but made no move whatsoever. You smiled at him and nodded, making to reach the faelight to turn it off. You angled your body half above him and stretched to the bedside table, hair barely grazing the hot skin of his torso. Gods, you were practically straddling him, his mind taking him to all sorts of indecent scenarios. Your breasts were just a breadths away from his mouth, he could make out the perked nipples under the shirt. He loved seeing you in his clothes, but right now he wanted nothing more than to rip the fabric out of you. Azriel swallowed dryly. 
What was his fucking problem? It wasn’t like you hadn’t shared a bed before, he blamed his friend’s heated session down the hall. He had to admit it had gotten him a bit railed up, especially with you on his bed, smelling like him. It was hard to ignore the growing want in his veins. 
“Goodnight, Az.” You said, pulling back a little to look at him through half lidded eyes, even in the dark. Was it possible you were feeling the same? or was it just tiredness in your features? 
“Goodnight, angel.” He whispered back. If you leaned in any closer, he swears he’d kiss you, consequences be damned. But you slid right back onto your side, back facing him. 
Azriel lets out a quiet, frustrating sigh, reaching an arm out to wrap around your waist pulling you close. More moaning can be heard outside his bedroom, all the way to Cassian’s room. He feels slightly jealous. 
Suddenly you snorted, “We’ll sleep better if we get past the nghs, ohh, right there Cass!” you moaned, imitating Nesta. Azriel inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the way your little whimpering had shot straight to his dick. And the bite of jealousy he felt at hearing Cassian’s name falling so sinfully from your lips.
He scented the slight change in your scent though, a pinch of sweet arousal that got him mouth-watering. It had gotten to your head too, the display of passion from your friends a few bedrooms away. Azriel debated whether it was wise to do something right now, to taste the waters maybe. But you rolled onto your back again, facing the ceiling and letting out a frustrated groan. 
“Someone has to teach them though, make them uncomfortably listen for once. Maybe I’ll go to Rita’s tomorrow, choose a random male and bring him home. Beat them at their own game.” 
“No.” Azriel growled. You turned your head to the side, looking at him and were met with the dark, lustful haze in his eyes. You felt your core pulse in response. Fuck, why was he so hot?
“What do you mean"no "?" You asked, feeling your tongue paper dry  in your mouth.
“Why wait until tomorrow, if you can beat them tonight?”
The offer hung there, unspoken, for a few heartbeats. You felt your face grow hot, felt liquid fire pooling at your belly at the mere suggestion. He hadn’t even touched you and yet he got you all hot and bothered with a few words. You licked your lips, staring at him, shirtless, hair tousled over the pillow, shadows dancing dangerously over his shoulder. As if expecting your answer. He was a sight for sore eyes. It had to be illegal to be this beautiful. 
“I’m game if you are, sweetheart.” There it was, the deep purr again that had you clenching your legs together. He noticed the shift of course, smirking smugly. 
“Haha, very funny.” you said, huffing. 
“I’m not playing.” He pulled you closer, pressing you against his front. You gasped, feeling the not so subtle bulge in his sweatpants, rubbing against the side of your thigh.
“Is this why you kept me at an arm's length tonight?” you chuckled, but he could hear the breathlessness in your voice. “So I wouldn't find out they got you all worked up?” 
“No, this isn’t their doing, angel. It's all yours.” He dared a hand down your waist, past your hips, to ghost over the skin under the hem of your shirt. You shuddered. “Tell me to stop and I will. It's okay.” 
He lifted the fabric ever so slightly, inching closer to the waistband of your underwear. 
You turned fully to him, chests pressed together, breasts dragging against the firm muscle with every breath. 
“Fuck it, let’s show them.” You breathed into his mouth before crashing your lips together in a searing kiss. 
Azriel groaned low against your mouth, grip tighter bringing your hips flushed together, and kissed you back with fervor. Your hands found purchase in the dark locks at the back of his neck, tugging gently and urging him impossibly closer. He pushed you onto your back, knees parting on their own accord to accommodate him between your legs. It was all so hot and messy. Like you both have been waiting for this for a very long time, it made you throb with need. The thought of him wanting you as much as you wanted him. 
You rolled your hips onto him, desperate for any sort of friction, moaning loudly when the clothed tip of his cock catched on your clit deliciously. Azriel took his chance to slip his tongue inside your mouth, exploring every inch and taste of you, kissing you deeply, desperately. He wanted more, he wanted everything. A wave of arousal licked down his spine, your lips were sweet and addictive, he wondered — needed to know— if other parts of you tasted as sweet. 
He kissed your jaw, your neck, biting and licking his way down to your collarbones. His right hand came to fondle with the generous swell of your breast over the shirt, pinching at the perked nub. The smell of your arousal hit him at a full force, Azriel felt like a youngling in heat rutting his cock at your core. Fuck, he couldn't help himself, he was so enamoured with the sounds he was getting out of you. 
“Take this off,” he ordered, tugging at your shirt. “If I do it I may rip the damn thing off of you, and I love seeing you in my shirt.” 
You obeyed without a second thought, too lost in the feeling of him already. He invaded all your senses, his touch sending your skin on fire, his scent sparkling pleasure bubbling in your insides. The rich tone of his voice had you feeling all tingly and sensitive. Gods, you wanted him everywhere. 
With the offensive clothing now discarded, Azriel wasted no time dipping his head down and latching his mouth to one of your nipples, swirling his tongue and grazing his teeth around the nub. His hand came to play with your other breast, giving it the same attention, switching between your tits. You arched your back into him, whining in pleasure. 
He let go of your chest, looking down to admire you, all spread out for him. Nipples hard and shiny with his spit, breathing unevenly, underwear drenched with arousal, all because of him. He felt his cock throb within the confines of his sweats. Fuck, you looked so pretty like this, he had to taste you. Azriel looked up at your face, your glazed over eyes and swollen lips, and kissed you hard. Scarred fingers found the flimsy material of your panties, pushing them aside and dragging two digits along your soaked folds; you both moaned at the feeling. He rubbed tight circles around your clit, then ran a finger through your slit, smearing your juices everywhere. Your breathing quickened and he bit down your lip before kissing his way to your heat. Azriel looked at you from between your legs, pupils blown with lust, smirking wickedly. He hooked his fingers under the waistband and tugged the material painfully slow down your legs, snarling softly at the sight of your dripping pussy. 
“Beautiful,” he moaned. “So damn beautiful.” His tongue darted out to lick a long stripe out your center. It almost knocked the air out of your lungs, your hips bucking off the bed to get closer to his face. He chuckled darkly. “Eager, angel?”
“Az please, stop teasing,”  you whined prettily, eyes locking with his. 
At this point you didn’t care if your friends could hear or not, you wanted Azriel’s mouth on you, his fingers, his cock. You wanted to feel all of him. 
“Whatever my sweet angel wants,” he blew some air into your cunt, making you shiver in anticipation. Azriel dive in, devouring you like a male starved, like he might die if he didn’t get to taste you. He all but full on made out with your pussy, dragging his tongue along your folds, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking sharply. He groaned at your taste, the reverberations causing your eyes to roll back into your head, hips jerking up. He wrapped one arm around your hips to keep you pin to the bed and switched between harsh sucks and flicking the wet muscle around the nub. The pleasure was all too much and not enough at the same time, you moaned his name aloud and tugged at the strands of his hair again. 
Azriel’s free hand reached down to spread your folds, soaking his digits in your arousal before proding one finger at your entrance, and pushing inside. Your walls immediately clenched around him, making you both growl in pleasure. 
“Fuck, sweetheart, so tight. Already clenching on me,” he moaned, teeth grazing your clit. You could feel the pressure building in your lower belly, walls clamping down on his finger when he added a second one. You cried out, desperately trying to ride his face. Azriel pumped his fingers inside of you faster, curling his digits to reach that sweet spot that had you seeing stars behind your lids. Words were beginning to fail you, mumbling incoherently about how close you were. “You wanna cum? C’mon angel, give it to me, cum all over my face and fingers.”
His words had an immediate effect on you, pushing you over the edge. Pleasure overpowered you and you let go, cumming hard on his fingers, moaning his name for all the house to hear. Azriel kept thrusting his fingers into your hole, guiding you through your orgasm and licking every last drop you had to offer. He watched you closely, eyes shut in pleasure, soft pants leaving your plush lips as you came down from your high. Only then he pulled his hand away, mesmerized by you. He crawled up your body, coming face to face with you. 
“Hey,” he whispered, smiling. 
“Hey,” you replied, face flushed and smiling satisfied. You reached your hand to push away the dark strands that had fallen into his face, cupping his cheek in your palm. He looked absolutely gorgeous, hair disheveled from your tugging, lips bruised and shiny with your juices, gaze clouded with lust and something else. More intense even, more deep. 
You dragged your thumb over his bottom lip and he sucked it into his mouth, you almost whined again. Breaths coming in short. You brought his face to yours, kissing him with such devotion you couldn't hold back any longer. Azriel shuddered, leisurely kissing you back, you could taste yourself on his tongue. Moaning softly, you ranked your nails down his body, from his pecs, to the hard planes of his abdomen, all the way to his cock, palming him through the fabric. He hissed when you slid your fingers past the waistband of his pants, gripping him in your hand. His hips buckled. He was big, and warm and sticky with pre-cum. You made to put his sweatpants down but he stopped you before you could take it any further. 
“Fuck baby, are you sure?” he asked, looking intently at you. A swirl of emotions passed through his eyes, it made your heart flutter in your chest. “We don't have to, unless that's what you want. I think we made our point clear.” He laughed breathlessly. 
“It is what I want Az. I want you, I need you. Please.” You watched him with pleading eyes, full of trust and… He didn't dare acknowledge that emotion yet, not unless you spoke it out loud. Although his heart still gave a flip. Pulse picking up. 
He helped you pull his pants down, and kicked them out of his legs. His cock sprung free, slapping against his abs, tip swollen and dripping. You flashed him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen you wear, dragging your eyes shamelessly through his body. It gave him a little bit of an ego boost. 
“You're so pretty Az. So so pretty,” you murmured, eyes half lidded already devouring him. 
There it was again, you calling him pretty. He didn't know what to do with himself so he leaned in to capture your mouth in a scorching kiss. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him flush against you, both hissing when the tip of his proud cock bumped against your clit. 
You broke the kiss to slide your mouth along his jaw, down his neck, peppering his sun-kissed skin in love bites. Marking him as yours. Azriel groaned and thrust his hips forward, sliding through your folds, coating his length in your arousal. He repeated the action a couple of times before aligning himself with your entrance. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, your wetness and the remnants of your orgasm making it easy to slide all the way in. Your walls hugged him tightly as he bottomed out, stilling, to give you time to adjust to his size. Azriel let out a moan so hot and sinful it made a new wave of arousal wash over you. 
He felt on cloud nine, his head falling to the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and letting it intoxicate him. He could’ve cum right then and there, buried to the hilt in your heat. But he wanted it to last, taking his time to savor the feeling of you wrapped around him so perfectly. He had no doubt in his lust filled mind that you were made for him. You were his and only his. 
You rolled your hips at last, running your fingers down his sides urging him to move. That was all it took for him to pull out to the tip and slam his hips hard into yours, Azriel set a slow, sensual pace, intended in making you feel every last inch of him. You welcomed the stretch with a wanton moan, feeling the veins with every delicious drag of his cock against your walls. 
“Gods, Azriel, more!” you whined. “I can take it.” 
“I swear you're gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.” He panted. Pulling out he gripped your hips tightly and turned you onto your stomach, ass up in the air. He thrust in harsher, making you cry out in pleasure. All signs of restraint gone. 
Azriel picked up speed, angling his hips just fine so that he could reach even deeper inside you. He quickly found the spot that had you gripping him tight, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Abusing your hole, hitting your g spot every single time, mercilessly. He had you in a state of pure bliss, bringing one arm to wrap around your middle, reaching between your legs to play with your clit. You were so close, already too sensitive from your previous orgasm. Squirming around in his embrace, pushing your ass back to meet his thrusts. 
“Fuuck! Don't stop,” you managed out, fisting at the sheets for support. 
“I won't,” he grunted, the swollen head of his cock kissing your cervix. “You're mine, do you understand me? Mine. No other male gets to touch you.” 
“Yes, yes I'm yours,” you panted,  desperately wanting to please him. 
“Good girl.” 
He was relentless, hips slapping with a force that had the headboard smashing against the wall. He knew you were about to cum, could feel his own orgasm sneaking up on him. Azriel went impossibly faster, pulling sobs out of you. You clamped down on him after one particular sharp thrust and your high barreled through you without previous warning. You screamed, white hot pleasure blinding you. Cum gushed out of you, making a mess of your thighs and his. He held your trembling body up, pressed to him as he fucked you through your orgasm, thrusts becoming sloppier by the second. His wings flared proud behind him and he felt the tight knot in his gut snap. Azriel came with a growl of your name, hips coming to a stop. Your body falling limp atop the bed. 
Slowly pulling out of you, he watched astonished at the mess you made, both of your juices dripping down your legs. When his breathing became even again, Azriel leaned in to press a kiss to your spine, making you shudder. 
“You okay, angel?” He asked, scarred fingers gently pushing your hair out of your face. 
You smiled tiredly at him, content. “I feel amazing.” 
He chuckled and laid back next to you, pulling you to lay on his chest. You pressed a kiss over his heart, arms resting on his stomach, still catching your breath. No one spoke for a while, enjoying the aftermath of your actions. There was no room for worry, not with Azriel. Not ever. 
He traced iddle circles on your skin, loving how well you fit next to him. 
“Az?” You called softly to him, he hummed in acknowledgement. “Do you hear that?” 
He stilled, straining his hearing. Muffled moans could be heard down the hall and the distinct sound of a headboard smashing hard against the wall. You laughed in unison. 
“I think we may have spurred them on,” he said amusedly, voice hoarse. 
“I've never been more glad to have left my room than right now” you chuckled. 
“You and I both, angel.” He added, squeezing your ass. 
You turned to him, placing a kiss to the outline of his jaw. Silently admiring the hickies you left on his neck. 
“How does a second round sound?” You purred. 
He smirked, cock already hardening. “Absolutely delightful.” 
2K notes · View notes
court-of-starss · 3 months
Text
Comfort of Family
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Summary: Your cycle leaves you pining for your mate.
Warnings: Periods, a whole bunch of fluff, Rhys being the best older brother ever.
a/n: Honestly I just wanted an excuse to write Rhys as an older brother. Enjoy my migraine induced drabble!
Masterlist
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Feyre had never seen Rhys look as nervous as he did now, standing in front of the wooden door of his little sister. He was tense as he lifted his hand to knock, hesitating as he took in a nervous breath.
“I think you’re being a bit dramatic.” Feyre mumbled, raising a hand to gently rub his tense back, biting her lip to hide her amusement as he shot her an accusatory look over his shoulder.
“You don’t understand, she’s not my little star during her cycle” His voice trailed into a whisper, “she’s a chocolate hoarding dragon.” Feyre couldn’t hold back her laugh at his dramatics, so scared of his closest family member, his baby sister.
“I assume she’s going to be even worse as you’ve sent her mate off to gods know where.” Feyre giggled, hiding her smile behind her hand when Rhys narrowed his eyes at her and huffed. He took a deep breath before turning back around and finally raising his hand to gently knock on the door, turning the doorknob and entering at the soft ‘come in’ that emerged from the room.
The curtains were drawn, leaving the room in darkness hiding the mass under the heavy black sheets of the bed. Feyre rolled her eyes at Rhys’ hesitation to enter, giving him a gentle shove forward before closing the door behind him, leaving him to face his sister alone.
‘Traitor.’ He shot down the bond, his lips curving up slightly at her soft laugh that he felt through his chest. He cautiously approached the bed, eyebrows crunching together at the small sniffle that leaked from her. He felt guilt swarm him at her pain, her cycles much more painful than the ordinary fae.
“You better have chocolate Rhys.” You growled, your eyes peaking out from under the blankets to glare at your older brother who was now crouching down in front of you. He looked so much like your mother like this, his eyes soft as he examined the scrunch of your brows. He raised his hand, revealing a pouch from your favorite sweet shop in town. He grinned and set them on the night stand, next to your mates’ dagger, the one he always left by your side.
“Thank you.” You mumbled, cringing when another wave of pain travelled through you, your back and abdomen cramping painfully. Rhys frowned and gentle wiped the sweat from your brow, cupping your cheek softly as his talons slipped into your mind to ease some of the pain coursing through you.
“I’m still mad at you, for sending him away.” He sighed and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, making himself comfortable, ignoring your glare as he rested his head on your mates pillow.
“It was urgent and I assure you he will be back soon little star.” He had a teasing grin on his face as he bumped your foot with his. “Besides I’m sure he’ll give me enough of a beating when he gets home.” He snickered, he never turned down an opportunity to roll around the training mat with the shadowsinger.
A soft sniffle left you as you rested your temple on his shoulder, taking a few deep breaths. His scent easing your mind slightly, knowing you were safe with your best friend by your side. You could never truly be mad at your brother, a fact he knew and took advantage of often. While most compared him to your father, you always saw your mother in him. In his gentle eyes, in his caring actions, in his selfless actions, in his court.
“I miss him.” You mumbled, tears dripping down your cheeks as Rhys rested his cheek against your hair, humming softly.
“What can I do?” He asked gently, his heart aching at your pain and tears. A sight that he couldn’t stand.
“I just want Azriel.” You sniffled, wiping your cheek on his shirt, not even feeling guilty at the damp spot on his shirt. He sighed and sat up, pulling your head onto his lap as he ran his fingers through your hair soothingly. Humming softly as your eyelids started to droop.
“He’ll be home soon I promise little star.” Rhys said softly, his words sending you into a blissful sleep full of shadows and gleaming hazel eyes full of love and laughter.
-
You grumbled when you felt something caressing your cheek, a soft cool touch that drew you from the sweet dream you were having of your other half. You peeled your eyes open, blinking a few times to clear the fog of sleep. Your gaze snapped to a soft hazel gaze, kneeling next to the bed with a gentle smile was your mate. Your Azriel.
Your lip wobbled as you processed that he was here, your hand lifting from the blankets to hold the back of his caressing your cheek.
“Hey baby.” He mumbled, his eyes tracking the fresh tears now gathering in your waterline.
“Az.” You whined, tugging his hand. He complied, sliding under the blankets and huffing a laugh when you immediately curled into his body, leg draping over his hips as his arm slid over your shoulders to tug you into chest. You buried your face into his neck, taking long breaths of his scent, the smell of home. His palm slid down until it pressed against your lower back, the spot he knew always gave you the worst pains.
“Never leave me again.” You mumbled into his throat, smiling when he made a noise of agreement, the sound rumbling down to his chest. His other hand lifting to stroke through your hair, his nose pressed into your temple taking deep breaths of his beloved mate.
It could have been hours, perhaps days that you spent in this position with him, your body finally fully relaxed. But alas the moment was ruined, by your traitorous stomach letting out a deep grumble of protest. Az let out a puffed laugh, pressing a soft kiss to your hair before sliding you up onto his chest and rising from the bed.
You grumbled unhappily at the loss of the soft sheets and buried your head in his neck as he carried you out into the dining room, full of your loud and nosy family. Nose scrunching at Rhys and Mor loudly arguing over whom had the better hair in the family, you scoffed softly knowing it was neither of them.
“Oh, Az what do I have to do to get you to carry me around like that?” Cassian drawled, waving you off when you raised your head to snarl at him. You glared at his cheeky smile, softening slightly when he winked at you.
“For the last time Cassian, you are not my type.” Azriel groaned in fake annoyance, his lips tipping up slightly. You giggled when Cas held his hand to his heart and groaned dramatically, his own mate rolling her eyes, shooting you a soft smile before turning back to her conversation with Feyre.
Your heart warmed at the picture of your family, all cozied up on the comfy couches in front of the roaring fireplace, laughter ringing through the room as each member of your family relaxed with each other. A sight you had thought wouldn’t ever happen again 50 years ago, the joy and care radiating from everyone in the room was enough to tip your lips up, your pain from your cycle almost completely forgotten as your mate tipped his back with a roaring laugh as his brother continued his teasing.
Your eyes met Rhys’ as he smiled at you, his arm wrapped around his mate as she laughed at something Nesta was explaining, probably an embarrassing fact about poor Cassian. You smiled back, your eyes filling with happy tears as you finally witnessed the love and happiness on his face, after a long life of suffering, the pair of you were finally happy.
I love you Rhys.
I love you too, little star.
Azriel carried you into the kitchen, setting you on the counter as he turned to rifle through the cupboards, he always made you food when you were on your cycle, knowing you loved his cooking.
You sent a pulse of love down the golden string attaching your souls together, smiling widely when he shot a cheeky wink over his shoulder at you.
With the laughter flowing into the room from your family, and the sound of Azriel humming softly to himself as he started cooking, you felt your body relax. You had faced darkness head on and you knew at this moment that you would face it again if it meant that this life was waiting for you at the end.
“What do you mean Helion is hotter than me?! That is bullshit!” Cassian exclaimed from the other room, causing a loud laugh to leave your lips as your mate turned to grin at you, his own laugh leaving him as his eyes twinkled.
Watching you giggle and turn to shout back at Cassian, Azriel knew he would face death itself to keep the glittering smile on your face for eternity.
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itsswritten · 3 days
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I’ve honestly loved stepping into this fandom so so much, it brought me excitement and inspiration during a time where I’ve felt so lost. I feel as though I’ve actually kind of made connections and friends here with people who have a genuine common interest with me and it’s so magical…But this space is slowly becoming so negative.
I’m know I’m not the only one who comes here to read or write, create art etc as a way to escape and connect with others…but recently this safe space has felt so tainted.
The bullying, the abuse, the obsessive ship wars has bred the most repulsive vile negative energy that I physically can’t even bring myself to finish acosf. I actually feel heartbroken for sjm, imagine building these worlds, creating these characters for us, for people to then shred one another online in the name of it.
I don’t get it. It’s not real. I know we love these characters, and gods I wish this world was real, but it isn’t. What is real are all the people that are getting torn down—why are you doing this to one another? You are hurting the very people who love something just as dearly as you. Do you not see how lovely this could all be? How amazing that we all love this one thing, but instead of bonding over this, it’s become so divisive and argumentative.
I don’t know, it just feels a bit weird in the fandom at the moment. I wish there was a way for me to filter out the noise and just focus on the magical parts.
I’m just rambling anyway :/ I should probably shut up! I’ve written some more of wtscft but I might wait to share the next parts when things feel a little more positive. 🤍
Anyway big kisses to you all, mwah! - Lottie
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Best mistake
Azriel x Reader
Summary; Reader doesn't quite understand how mating bonds work.
Warnings; Mentions of sex
Masterlist
Velaris was always beautiful during the day, but during the night? It was a sight of dreams, if you really think about it; that’s one of the reasons it is called court of dreams. Because of this you decided that tonight’s dinner party should be held in the main balcony of the house of wind where the view was spectacular. Thankfully Feyre and Nesta volunteered to help you, otherwise you wouldn’t have made it. You were so lucky that Nesta preferred the bookstore you worked at, because if she didn’t you wouldn’t have met the inner circle, they wouldn’t become your family too and most importantly you wouldn’t have met him. The night court’s shadowsinger-your mate. Technically he wasn’t your mate-mate yet if that’s a thing, but you were making progress. You knew you had to accept him as your mate but with everything going on -the recent war, the reconstruction of Velaris and his missions- it was nearly impossible to find a free day -or several (wink wink)- for the mating ceremony. You still had no clue how you would accept him but the idea of asking anyone filled you with embarrassment. You are a fae for crying out loud shouldn’t you know this already?
You and Feyre were preparing the meals, everything was perfect until you noticed that you both forgot about Azriel’s request; apple pie. You whipped your head in Feyre’s direction to inform her, but she was gone, probably bickering with Nesta for something irrelevant. You shook your head and started making the apple pie. You knew that the house was enchanted, and it could make the food -weird- yet you wanted the dinner to be special and full of love thus you made all the food.
Everything was set and by the beating sound of wings you knew that Cassian, Azriel and Rhysand were approaching the house. You took your apron off and headed to the balcony.  Just a moment before the males landed, black smoke filled the air and Mor, Elain and Amren fell into the balcony. You laughed at their panting knowing that they were probably racing the boys here.
Strong arms engulfed you from behind and the musky scent of cedar and whiskey had you shivering. His face rested in your neck where he left a soft kiss.
“Hello angel” his voice melodic and soft like the finest velvet.
You just leaned back enjoying his Illyrian warmth and closing your eyes.
“Enough I’m starving” Cassian exclaimed earning a growl from your mate.
Soon everyone was devouring your food, complimenting you. After everyone was finished, you and Feyre walked back inside to get the desserts, you picked a plate and filled it with apple pie keeping the rest in the kitchen in case Azriel wanted more, after all you made it for him. As soon as Feyre had moved the desserts to the table you picked the plate and walked back outside, taking a seat next to Azriel you placed it in front of him without interrupting his conversation with Rhysand. He was briefing him about his last mission, so lost in the discussion that he didn’t notice your movement. Cassian did though and leaned back in his chair a smirk forming on his face. You lifted your eyebrow and he just shrugged pulling his gaze from you.
Azriel stopped talking and picked up his fork taking a piece of the apple pie, he chewed and a low moan left his mouth.
“This is amazing” he said, already picking a second piece.
“Really? I made it for you” you smiled excitedly.
Silence.
Everyone’s head whipped towards you. Azriel gulped, his eyes wide.
“What?” You asked. Fear filled your body.
Rhysand was standing up slowly as to not provoke the shadowsinger.
“Y/n don’t you know that this is how you accept the mating bond?” Feyre spoke her gaze fixed on Azriel. You gave her a confused look. “Offering food.” She specified.
“But we made all the food and we’ve done it again before” your voice barely above a whisper.
“Did you make the apple pie specifically for Azriel?” Cassian asked the smirk never leaving his face and his eyes filled with amusement. He knew.
You nodded.
“There you have it. You just accepted the bond and sent your mate into a sexual frenzy” he boomed. Your jaw almost touched the ground.
“You saw me leaving the plate there…you knew… why didn’t you tell me?” You shouted.
“I wouldn’t be able to enjoy this” he leaned back more and placed his hands behind his head.
Your gaze turned to Azriel who was shaking and then you felt it too. Every feeling was million times stronger, his scent filling all of your senses making you clench your thighs, a faint smell of your arousal leaving your body.
Azriel lifted his gaze on you, his eyes filled with darkness and dominance.
“Do you want this?” His voice feral and possessive.
“Yes” you breathed.
In an instant you were in his arms, his wings flaring behind him.
“Don’t come to the cabin” he growled to the others and with that you were on the sky, a yelp leaving your lips.
He glanced at you and then you decided.
This was the best mistake you’ve ever made.
Requests are open.
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acourtofwhatthefuck · 6 months
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Practice On Me — Part Seven — Azriel x Reader
Note: I hope you enjoy this part because I’m not overly happy with how it’s written, I don’t know why 😭probably just me being a DUMBASS. Also, it’s still not letting me tag some of you 😩anyone know why?
Summary: The Bat Boys are worried about reader. Cassian’s getting a little suspicious of Kaeda. Azriel is really, really missing his friend.
Word count: 7k.
Warnings: Some injury detail.
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“He cannot do this. Surely, he cannot fucking do this.”
Azriel slams his fist on the table so hard that ale sloshes over the lip of a mug. The atmosphere in the mead hall is unusually calm tonight. There’s more laughter than arguing, and some dickhead with a lute is even providing the attendants with music. But at the centre table, a cloud of doom darkens the mood.
Everyone has wisely given Rhys, Cassian and Azriel a wide berth.
Tensions are high. Something’s got to give.
“His role in this camp is to oversee our training.” Az balls his fists. “Not to get involved with how we spend our time outside of it.” He eyes Cass and Rhys opposite him. “Right?”
“Technically, yes.” Rhys confirms. “But as the overseer of said training, he also has the authority to remove any distractions as he sees fit.”
“Distractions? She’s our friend, not a fucking toy—”
“I’m just putting it to you straight, Az. It’s the typical Illyrian attitude rearing its ugly head. All four of us made the decision to go to Fenlaros, and yet it’s the female who shoulders the blame.”
“It’s fucking ridiculous.” Cassian finally speaks up.
He hasn’t said much. Too busy thinking about last night.
Nobody knows a thing about that wild, impulsive fuck except him and Y/N. He plans to keep it that way. Not out of any sense of regret, but…he doesn’t know. His brain is ticking over.
He can’t help wondering something that’s never occurred to him before.
Is Y/N branded a certain way by Illyrian ideologies because the closest people to her are males? Has she unfairly gained a reputation — one that would be made worse if what she and Cassian had done became common knowledge?
He doesn’t want to be the reason she gets more shit thrown her way. He’s starting to think he should think harder before he acts. Maybe last night was a mistake. He can’t even see Y/N to talk it through with her.
“So what do we do?” Az is asking as Cass zones back in. “There’s got to be something. Do we take the matter to your father?”
Rhys cocks an eyebrow. “Be real for a second, Az. My father would laugh us out of Velaris. He doesn’t concern himself with trivial camp matters.”
“Y/N having to choose between an abusive household or perishing in the snow is not a trivial matter.”
“To him, it is. He’d tell Devlon to lead and do what he believes is right. Which, he already has, even if we don’t agree with it.”
“Well that’s bullshit. We can’t just lie down and do nothing—”
“I’m not saying that, Az—”
“What about your mother? She adores Y/N. Surely she could appeal to your father—”
“No. She’s pregnant. She stays out of this.”
“Then what do you suggest, Rhysand?”
“How about you start by explaining to Cass and I what’s gotten into you recently?”
Finally, Az has nothing to say. He goes silent. Still.
He stares back at his two friends like he can’t imagine why they would wonder such a thing.
And then he purses his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Cassian scoffs. “Please. Even I think you starting fights left and right has been extreme.”
“Fuck you. You’re totally exaggerating.”
Rhysand raises an eyebrow. “If you say so.”
“I do.”
“We’re just worried that your behaviour has changed since Kaeda came into the picture—”
“You know what I’m worried about?” Az snaps. “Our friend who is literally homeless as of this morning. That’s a little more important, don’t you think?”
Yes…and no. It’s not that Cassian and Rhys don’t agree. It’s just that…that all roads lead back to Kaeda. And that’s becoming a problem.
“We’re not just going to leave Y/N to deal with this alone, Az.” Rhys tells him. “We just need to be careful about how we deal with it. Devlon isn’t messing around. I don’t want us to cause her more trouble.”
As folds his arms. “So what do you suggest?”
“I’ll talk to Y/N’s friend — Vegha. I’m sure she can open her home to Y/N while we figure things out. Just don’t do anything impulsive or stupid.”
That seems to appease Az a little. He sits back in his chair — allows himself to be a bit more open.
Until Cass totally fucking ruins it and says, “And don’t go starting any more fights just to impress Kaeda.”
Az says again, “Fuck you.”
Cass returns a withering look. “Fuck you right back.”
“Productive.” Rhys comments, shaking his head. He pushes to his feet, and both his friends look round.
“Where are you going?” Az asks.
“To speak with Vegha.” Rhys tells him. “And don’t follow me. You two idiots will only make things worse.”
He has no idea how right he is.
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚
It starts with the fire going out. Always.
The door swings open hard enough to hit the wall, and freezing air envelops the place. Your father tracks snow into the house, and he smells so strongly of booze that it permeates the room and spreads like a sickness.
You are five years old. You like to draw things in the soot that coats the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. The house always feels untidy since mama stole away in the dead of night a year ago. You try to keep on top of the cleaning, but the damp and the cold makes your hands sore, your bones ache.
Every night, you sit with your hands in your lap and wait for your father to return home. If he’s coming back from the forge, he’s tired and in a bad mood. If he’s coming back from the mead hall or a tavern, he’s drunk and in a really bad mood.
Tonight is the latter. But not only is he drunk and in a bad mood — he’s also brought company.
Four other males. They’re all huge — too huge to fit into the house, you think. If they’ve come for food, there isn’t any. If they’ve come for comfort, there isn’t any of that, either.
But they’re looking at you, all four of them. And in some way, you know that it’s you they’ve come for.
“This is the one?” A male with reddish-brown hair asks.
“I have only one.” Your father answers, and he jerks a chin in your direction. “That is it.”
It.
“Scrawny. There’s barely anything of her.” A second male comments. “This won’t be difficult.”
“I always think that,” reddish-brown answers, “and then they start fighting back. Kicking and scratching.”
You may only be five, but you are not foolish. Something is very, very wrong. A sinister wave has swept your already-miserable home, and you are about to be swallowed up in it. You eye the four males with wide eyes and scoot back a little.
Reddish-brown is the leader. He folds his arms with an authoritative air and announces, “Pathorn and Yevmael can hold her down,” he turns to the second male, “you take one wing, and I’ll take the other.”
The male that steps towards you from the back has eyes as black as the soot in the hearth. His lips twitch up on one side, and he says, “Come here, then, little pup.”
You do not move.
“Come.” He repeats. “It won’t hurt…much.”
They laugh at that.
You tuck your dirty, bruised knees tightly into your chest and rest your chin atop of them. You say nothing, make no move.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” His friend at the back says, stalking over to you. “Just pick her up.”
He does exactly that — by the scruff of your neck. You yelp as he yanks you into the air, and on instinct, your arms are flailing, legs kicking, tiny wings flaring.
“Look at that.” Charcoal eyes sneers at those very wings. “It’s a fucking abomination.”
If this is a game, you don’t like it. You twist in the male’s grasp, try to wriggle free, and he growls a curse at you. You growl back — a fierce, fierce noise, you think. It makes the males laugh again.
“On the table.” Reddish-brown says. “Face-down.”
“Papa,” you fight, “papa, papa, papa.”
There comes no response. It’s then that you realise he’s removed himself from the room. Left you with these monsters.
“Quiet now, pup.” Charcoal eyes says. “This won’t take long.”
You want to scratch him, and you try, even though your nails are chewed and bitten, despite mama always telling you not to do that. But mama isn’t here now and neither is papa. It’s just strangers with angry faces. Strangers who want to hurt you.
You’re slammed down onto the table, and you let out a cry. Someone holds your legs down. Another person holds your arms.
You are five years old. You like to draw pictures in the soot that covers the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. You are utterly and totally alone.
“I hope you never thought about flying.” Reddish-brown steps up to you. “That day will never come.”
And then they begin hacking at your wings.
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚
Your father takes you to a healer only when it’s almost too late. A fever scorches you head to toe. You think that mama returns to sit by your bedside, but that isn’t real. It’s a dream.
You’re too weak. You sleep fitfully on your front, because trembles wrack your body that continuously wake you up. You jerk every time the pain at your back gets too much.
The door opens, and you wonder if mama is returning again. You like that dream. But it’s your father, accompanied by the male who has been leaning over your weakened body for days.
“Will she live?” Your father asks.
“She will.” The healer tells him. “If she can fight off the infection.”
“Can’t you just give her a tonic, or something?”
“This is the worst wing clipping I have ever seen. There are ample healers in Illyria who are qualified to carry out the practice. What possessed you to instead leave her in the hands of a group of soldiers?”
“I will do with my child as I see fit.”
“You may no longer have a child, if she cannot fight this. Her life hangs in the balance.”
Your father makes a noise that sounds like a growl. He does that when you’re in his way, and he just wants to sit quietly without you lingering around him. “Give her a fucking tonic—”
“If she survives this,” the healer tells him, “she will be scarred and in pain for the rest of her life. You did not merely clip her wings. You butchered them. This is precisely why a healer should be the one to perform the procedure—”
Your body jerks with a fresh wave of pain, and you whimper. Both your father and the healer look over at you.
Your father’s lip curls, and he turns to the male once more. “Fix her.” He commands. “Because if you can’t, you’re helping me bury the body.”
No. The males will come back and put their hands on you again. They’ll bury a body. They’ll bury your body. They’re going to bury you. Soil will fall on your ruined wings, and when mama truly does come back, she’ll have only an unmarked grave to greet you at.
You try to move, but you’re strapped down. You whimper again.
Bury the body.
Bury the body.
Bury the—
Your body lurches up.
Sweat slicks your skin. You press a hand to your forehead, but it’s cool, not burdened by fever. You’ve awoken like this every morning for the past week.
The dreams are burdening you a lot right now. The memories.
They remind you, at least, why you will not return to your father’s home. Even if you end up hunching yourself up in doorways and exhausting any other dire options.
You hear a noise from the doorway, and you rub the bleariness from your eyes. Illuminated by the dim light in the hall, a male leans against the doorframe. He watches you nonchalantly, biting into an apple. Green, not red.
“You were shouting in your sleep again.”
You heave a deep, slow sigh and rake your fingers through your hair. Sweat soaks the strands.
“You dream often about burying bodies, don’t you?” The male steps into the room. He flares his wings, and you try not to look at them. “You’re quite odd. I think I like it.”
“Get out, Markis.” You sigh again. “Stop watching me sleep. It’s strange.”
“Is it more or less strange than chanting about burying a body?” He smirks. “And you’re in my house, remember? You can’t tell me to get out.”
“Yeah, well, it’s my house, too, and I can.” Suddenly, Vegha is appearing. She swats her younger brother, and a slither of relief settles into you. “Stop bugging her, Markis. Go to the training rings, or something.”
Markis so clearly doesn’t want to leave. He eyes you, his gaze falling from your neck, down to the old, threadbare sweater that you’ve been sleeping in. It’s Azriel’s — still smells like him.
The intensity of the male’s gaze is uncomfortable. And after a week of tolerating it, you’re not sure you can any longer.
“Fine.” He swallows down a bite of apple. He sends you a leering smirk. “I’ll tell your friends you said hello.”
Vegha rolls her eyes. “Markis, just leave before I boil your entire head—
“I’m going, I’m going.”
The male strides out of the room, shooting you one last look over his shoulder. You should ignore it, because the idiot is just basking in the novelty of having a female under his roof that he’s not related to, but the discomfort has sunk itself under your skin, and you’re not sure you can live with it.
Which is a bit of a problem, considering there are no other avenues for you to explore, and have nowhere else to go.
Vegha shuts the door behind her brother and turns to you. “You slept fitfully again.”
“Yes.” You feel a little bad admitting it. It’s not her, nor her family home, nor the bed that’s the problem. It’s you. All you. “I have a lot on my mind.”
“Of course, you do. I wish there was more I could do to help.”
“You’ve done more than enough, Vegha.”
She doesn’t look convinced. The worried streak in her eyes is an indicator of how terrible you look. And you know she’s just caring for you as your friend, but you can’t stand it. One more pitying glance may push you over the edge.
“I have to get to the crèche.” She tells you. “Can I get you anything before I leave?”
“No—thank you.” You sit up. “Listen…I won’t be here when you return home. I’m getting out of your hair today.”
She pauses. Studies you. “You’re not in my hair. You’re welcome to stay for as long as you need. Ignore Markis — he’s a cock.”
You breathe a soft laugh. But you can’t ignore Markis — not any longer. Just as you haven’t been able to ignore any of the males who have made the past week even more difficult than it already was.
Illyrian males are…are a sickness. They’re bred in violence and depravity. So few of them are good.
And if the past week without Azriel, Rhys and Cassian has taught you anything, it’s that to some degree, your exposure to such behaviours has always been muted, thanks to their protection. They’ve been a strong unit around you since you were eleven years old. Most males have been wise enough to steer clear and escape the wrath that would come down on them for messing with you.
But now you’re forbidden from seeing them, and you’re free game for any fucking male in this gods-forsaken place.
You need to be away from them. To be on your own.
“I know.” You answer Vegha. “And I appreciate you opening your home to me, I really do. But it’s fine — I��ve made other arrangements.”
The look she gives you is dubious. She doesn’t believe you, and rightfully so — it’s total bullshit. “You have?”
“I have.” You dip your chin. “I’ll be just fine.”
“…well I’m glad to hear it. You’ll come right back here if those plans fall through, right?”
“Of course I will.” No.
She hesitates at the door. She’s been nothing but kind and accommodating to you — a real friend.
But it’s bad enough not being able to escape the males that haunt your dreams. There’s a damn good reason for you staunchly refusing to return to your father. You will not swap one monster for another.
“I’ll see you soon, then.” Vegha studies you. There’s a sadness in her brown eyes. She genuinely cares. “Take care, Y/N.”
“I will.” You force a breezing smile. “And you, also.”
She inclines her head, and then she’s slipping out of the room. The silence only gives way for your too-near dreams to dig their claws in. You scrub your hands harshly over your face and push to your feet.
You don’t know where you’ll go. It’s tempting to ignore Lord Devlon’s warning and race back to the cottage. Drama may await you there — a total mess that you somewhat made for yourself — but at least you’d be warm and safe while facing it.
You can’t — you know you can’t. You don’t want Az or Cass or Rhys to face any consequences.
So after you get yourself ready and gather what little stuff you have, you head out into the snow and hope you won’t be sleeping in it that night.
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚
Azriel strikes at the sparring dummy as if it fucked his wife and stole his seat at the dinner table.
The damn things are supposed to be bolted to the ground, but a couple of bolts are no match against the fearsome shadowsinger.
He strikes and strikes until the object is more or less obliterated, because fuck the sparring dummy, that’s why. Fuck the sparring dummy, and fuck Lord Devlon, and fuck—
“I think you made your point.” A trilling voice cuts through his red mist of rage. “How about you set the sword down and have some water?”
Perhaps it’s just Azriel’s anger thinking for him, but he doesn’t feel that Kaeda has been particularly helpful from where she’s perched atop a smooth rock. She cleans her nails with the tip of a dagger and stretches her wings out around her.
Across the ring, Cassian watches and turns to Rhysand. “Why is she allowed to be here, but Y/N isn’t?”
Rhys shrugs his tense shoulders. He doesn’t know the answer.
The two of them step closer to where their brother is trying to breathe through his fury. He’s not coping so well.
See, Azriel has experience with missing things. He misses his mother all the time. Sometimes it’s a dull ache, manageable amongst the mundane comings and goings of life. Other times, it hurts so bad that he doesn’t think clawing his chest open would be too extreme a reaction. Missing a person is a sensation that knits itself under his skin and seeps into the marrow of his bones. It’s relentless and hideous.
Missing Y/N is a new kind of torture he never contemplated having to face.
It’s not just that he’s worried about where she is, whether or not she’s safe and well. It’s that he misses the silliest, tiniest things about her that he didn’t even know he’d ever noticed in the first damn place. The rapt determination with which she cuts the crusts off her bread because that’s a little too much bread for her. The way she gestures wildly with her hands whilst passionately talking about things. That ruined, tattered journal she carries around in which she scrawls blunt, one-sentenced, sometimes unintelligible thoughts. And her scent — gods, her scent.
It has been one week — an amount of time he’s spent away from her before. But it’s different this time. This isn’t like being away on a training exercise and knowing he’ll soon be coming home. He knows nothing. Doesn’t even know what to think, what to feel.
Other than an overt urge to murder the camp lord. Violently.
“How about we get done here and head to the mead hall?” Kaeda breaks through his warring thoughts. “I’m starved.”
Az grabs a nearby rag, wiping the sweat from his face. “Not really hungry.”
There’s a pause. And then a soft sigh leaves the female. She sheathes her blade and pushes to her feet, just as Rhys and Cassian are approaching. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, Azriel, but you can’t be visiting my father with this attitude.”
At once, this grabs the other two males’ interests, and Azriel wants to groan. Right. He’d forgotten about that.
“What’s this?” Rhys frowns, staring between Az and Kaeda. “You’re returning to Fenlaros?”
“My father invited Azriel to dine with us, that’s all.” Kaeda answers for him.
It had genuinely slipped Azriel’s mind. Amongst everything else waging war in his thoughts, a dinner with Kaeda’s family in Fenlaros had sunk right to the bottom.
But he knows immediately how it looks. That he’s being secretive.
Rhys studies Azriel closely. “And you’ve cleared this with Devlon?”
No, no he hadn’t. Quite simply, he’s not sure he can be within twenty feet of the bastard, right now, without throttling him.
He hates himself for it — he really, truly does. But for the sake of sparing himself a lecture, he shrugs. “I have.”
He does not lie to his brothers. And they can smell that lie on him right away.
Cassian stares at Kaeda for a long moment, before turning towards Az. “That is a fucking terrible idea, and you know it.”
“It’s dinner.” Kaeda shoots back.
Cass grits his teeth. “I’m talking to Azriel.”
“Listen, Cassian—”
“Excuse me—I’m sorry to interrupt.”
All four of them turn in the direction of the intrusion —and they stop short.
All three of the males know Vegha, of course. Rhys was grateful that she’d so willingly opened her home to Y/N when he’d asked. But other than that, they’ve only spoken to her in passing — she’s never had reason to seek them out before.
But what adds a slither of urgency to her rare appearance at the training rings is the even rarer appearance of the two little girls who hold her hands. They’re not supposed to be here, and Vegha knows this well.
She obviously deemed whatever this is urgent enough to bypass that rule.
“Vegha.” Azriel steps forward, studying her closely. “Is all well?”
Vegha shifts on her feet, clutching tighter onto the girls’ hands. She’s never comfortable here, around all these males, but it’s a different unwanted attention that makes her want to turn and leave.
Kaeda eyes her head to toe with a look of distaste. Of mistrust. She folds her arms and flares her wings — a gesture that has the little girls gasping.
“Settle down.” Vegha squeezes their hands. She directs her attention back to the males. Strange, that she feels more comfortable with them than she does with the only other female present. “Honestly, Azriel, I’m not at all sure.”
Rhys steps forward. “Is it Y/N?”
Cassian swears — swears — that a small sigh comes from behind him. From Kaeda.
“I know you’ve been instructed to stay away, and I don’t wish to cause you any trouble.” Vegha tells them. “It’s just…well, she was staying at my home this past week, as you asked, Rhysand. I told her she was welcome for as long as she needs — that she mustn’t return to her father’s house. But just this morning, she suddenly announced that she was leaving…that she’d found somewhere else to stay.”
“And?” The word slips from Kaeda’s lips.
Yeah, Cass definitely isn’t in the mood for this today.
“And…and I’m not sure I believe her.” Vegha shrugs slowly. “My brother wasn’t exactly making it a pleasant stay, and I think she was desperate to get out of there. But I can’t imagine where she’d go. I just…thought I should tell you. You know her better than I do.”
True — except her three closest friends can’t imagine where she’d go, either, if not back to her father’s house. And they can’t imagine her resorting to that.
She has no money for a room at an inn. She doesn’t have a long list of friends who will open their homes up to her. And she most certainly can’t go back to Rhys’s mother’s cottage.
So…where? Will she pitch up in one of the abandoned tents across the camp? Will she spend her nights shivering in doorways and wondering where her next meal is coming from?
This is fucking ridiculous.
She can’t be left to live like this.
“You did the right thing, telling us.” Rhys reassures Vegha. He offers a gentle, soft smile to the girls at her sides. “How about you take these two back into the warm? We’ll deal with it.”
Gods, he’s already a High Lord through and through. Calm in the face of turmoil. Not letting on to his inner panic.
Vegha dips her chin. “Sorry, again, for interrupting.” She tugs gently at the children’s’ hands. “Come, girls.”
Rhysand’s brow furrows. Vegha is perhaps the only other good friend Y/N has in this place. There’s no way she’s made other arrangements — Rhys knows it. Cassian knows it. Azriel knows it.
“We’ve got to do something.” Azriel voices what they’re all thinking, a feral panic colouring his tone. “We can’t just leave her to face this on her own. Fuck what Devlon says. I’m not sitting back and letting her freeze or starve to death.”
Rhys chews his lip. “…I can try to speak with my father. But I’m not hopeful where he’s concerned. This falls under Devlon’s jurisdiction.”
“All Y/N needs is a roof over her head and some food in her belly until we can work out what to do next.” Cassian crosses his arms over his chest. “There’s got to be some way we can help. Is there not any clue of where she might go?”
The two males are looking at Az expectantly. If anyone knows, it’s him.
But he’s just…he’s not had his eye on the ball recently. His thoughts are all over the place. Perhaps he’s neglected his friendships a little — because he could swear he knows Y/N inside and out, and yet his mind is blank. Utterly fucking blank.
“I—I need to think.” He runs a hand through his hair, turning — he stops at the flash of red hair that meets him. He’d forgotten Kaeda was even there.
She stares between them, saying nothing, her face pinched and arms crossed. What she’s thinking, Az isn’t sure. But a thought suddenly strikes him.
“Kaeda.” He faces her properly. “Can’t you house Y/N in Fenlaros for the time being? Until this is sorted?”
Kaeda stops short. Blinks at him. “…What?”
“It doesn’t have to be your home, or…or even anything extravagant. Just somewhere she can sleep. There are surely more options in Fenlaros than there are here.”
Kaeda does not like this one bit. A negative reaction is rippling off her in waves, and it hits Cassian like a blast of cold air. Rhys, too.
But Az seems oblivious.
“Azriel…” The female keeps her voice calm, measured. “You know it isn’t that easy. A person can’t just…defect to another camp.”
“She wouldn’t—”
“So what’s your excuse?” The words are falling from Cassian’s lips before he can stop himself. He’s not sure he cares.
Kaeda pauses. Her face is a sheet of wide-eyed innocence as she turns to him. “Pardon me?”
Cass shrugs one shoulder. “You’ve been buzzing around here for months like a fly. What’s your excuse, if that’s not allowed? Because your father may be Lord of Fenlaros, sweetheart, and he may let you do whatever you want, but look around you. This is Windhaven. His word doesn’t mean shit here.”
Azriel takes a step towards him. “Cassian—”
“Either help our friend, or stay the fuck out of it—”
“Cassian, that is enough—”
“It’s fine, Azriel.” Kaeda’s voice is so deceptively warm, you could melt butter on it. She steps towards Cassian, face open, hands held up in a placating manner. “It’s fine. You’re right. I understand you’re upset, and I…I apologise if my presence here has been burdensome. Of course I’ll help any way that I can. I’ll talk to my father right away.”
Cass doesn’t feel particularly satisfied by that. Doesn’t believe a fucking word, to be honest. His eyes communicate that as he stares the female up and down.
“Cass, I think you should apologise.” Azriel says.
He barks a laugh. “No chance.”
“Kaeda just said she’d help—”
“Enough.” Rhys finally jumps in. His tone is laced with authority — just a smidgen of an idea of what he might one day be like as High Lord. He crosses his arms and glares the three of them down as though they’re bickering younglings. “Arguing back and forth will do nothing to help Y/N. We need to act. I will speak to my father. Kaeda will speak to hers. Az, you should see if you can find out where Y/N might have gone. Cass, I want you making sure she doesn’t go anywhere near her fucking father’s house. By the end of the day, we should have at least sorted something. Understood?”
Cass doesn’t look away from Kaeda. He can see her eye twitching — the way she so desperately wants to push back against being ordered. Gods, how Az can’t see right through her, he has no clue—
“Understood.” Azriel answers without hesitation. “I’ll get right on it.”
Rhys inclines his head. “As will I.”
“And I’ll head back to Fenlaros.” Kaeda adds.
Cassian merely shrugs. “Fine.”
Without goodbyes, Azriel is shooting into the skies — probably hoping to get an aerial view of a sodden, freezing Y/N traipsing through the snow.
Rhys looks between Cassian and Kaeda for a beat longer before he disappears, winnowing — Cass assumes — straight to Velaris.
And then there were two.
Kaeda turns back to Cass. The doe-eyed look on her face is instantly gone. There’s a hint of a damn smirk.
“Whatever game you’re playing at,” Cassian clenches his jaw. “You will not win.”
A soft hiccup of a laugh escapes the redhead. “Oh, yes I will.” She steps closer. Close enough for her cotton-and-powder scent to envelop the male. “See, I always get what I want. Always.”
“Not this time. Azriel may not see you for the viper that you are, but I do.” He grits his teeth. “And I will fucking destroy you before you cause any damage.”
Green eyes glitter back at him. The female is unperturbed by the threat — and she knows he means it. There’s even a change in her scent that makes Cassian’s nostrils flare. A darker one. A muskier one.
“Oh, Cassian, I do hope so.” She says, and pushes up so her lips are at his ear. Her full breasts brush his chest. “I love a male who’s willing to punish me.”
She winnows away before the snarl has a chance to claw up Cassian’s throat.
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚
This is starting to feel like a bad idea.
It was easy, from the warmth and comfort of Vegha’s home, to convince yourself you’d be fine out amongst the wilds of the camp. But the old armoury is dark, dingy and cold, and within hours, you’re not sure you have the resolve for a single night there. Let alone however many you have ahead of you.
This used to be a place of mischief, when you and your friends were children. This far end of the camp has sat abandoned and unused for years, after newer, more effective training rings were installed where the hub of activity now lays. The four of you would spend days here, playing pretend with the old, wooden practice swords that were left behind. You’d make up stories of the area being haunted by the ghost of an ancient, disgruntled Camp Lord. And as you got older, it became a place to come and get drunk, to speak words and secrets that remained there, never to be carried away with you.
You won’t be bothered here, you know — nobody ventures this way. But that, and the fact that the old armoury affords you a roof over your head, are about the only positives. You’re so cold that it hurts. You’re hungry and miserable and tired in a way that has nothing to do with nightmare-filled sleeps.
And gods, you miss your friends. You miss them so much, it‘s a gnawing ache. All those nights you took for granted, tucked up warm in the cottage, Cassian making you all laugh with his antics. Those times seem so distant, now. Is this how it will be, from now on? Never did you think you’d be separated from your friends. And you don’t even know if this is a permanent thing. Will you have to wait and wait until Rhysand is High Lord and able to make decisions, before you can see them again?
These thoughts will do you no good. They’ll only make you colder and drive you to shed tears that you’re not sure you have the energy to shed.
You bundle in your blanket, squeezing your eyes shut as though that fruitless act will shield you from the cold. You were tempted to build a fire, but the last thing you want is to draw attention from anyone flying above. Being found in here will just bring you more trouble you don’t need.
You’re already hunched as it is, gloved hands buried under your armpits — but you somehow manage to tense even more when you hear the distinct sound of boots traipsing through the snow outside.
No.
You can’t do this — not right now. Nobody fucking comes here. Is the Mother laughing at you from above and sprinkling more misfortune into your already-dire existence? You can’t handle a confrontation, can’t handle being told you can’t stay here—
But the door creaks open, and it’s Azriel’s face that peers around cautiously. You almost sob with relief.
“Thank fuck.” He breathes. He’s slipping inside, shutting the door behind him. In a few great strides, he’s in front of you and dropping to his knees. “Are you alright?”
If you speak, you might crack. You risk it all the same. “How did you find me?”
“Took me a while to think of this place, I must admit. It’s been a long while since we were last here.”
But find you, he did. And fuck, his scent and natural warmth are swarming you. It feels like nothing else matters right then. Just you and him, like it’s always been. He yanks you into a hug, and you don’t stop him.
“You’re frozen.” He whispers, squeezing you. His gloved hands rub at your arms, your back, your shoulders. He pulls away to cup your face, and he studies every inch of it. You’re not sure what for.
But you stare back. You don’t know what to do or say. That could be the cold making it difficult to think, or it could be this weird wedge between you that feels like it’s only growing.
Az leans closer, and he presses his forehead against yours. “I miss you.” His gloves brush over your cheeks. “Gods, I miss you. So much.”
“I miss you, too.” You shudder. The words are weighty and truthful, not just referring to this past week apart, but to whatever has been going on for a while, now. You didn’t mean for it to be like this. You just want to go back to how it was.
“I’ve thought about nothing else—” His nose bumps against yours, and one of his hands slides to the nape of your neck, kneading the skin there. “I just—just need you close to me, Y/N. Always.”
You attempt a breathy laugh. “I don’t think Devlon would agree with that.”
“Fuck, Devlon. We’re going to get around this. Rhys is going to talk to his father, and even if that fails, Kaeda is talking to hers. I reckon they’ll be able to offer you sanctuary in Fenlaros until this is sorted—”
You pull back to blink at him. Study him. “What?”
“I asked Kaeda to speak with her father on your behalf. To see if they can find somewhere for you to stay. I’m sure they can—”
“Azriel, I’m not going to Fenlaros.”
He pauses. “…If they’ll have you, Y/N, yes you are. It means you’ll be safe and warm and fed—”
“No.”
“What? Why?”
“Besides the fact that I’m already in enough trouble thanks to that place?” You pull away from him, easing to your feet. “I don’t know anyone there. And if Devlon were to find out—”
“Stop worrying about Devlon and start worrying about your safety.” Azriel, too, stands. “It’s the most logical thing.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Y/N.”
“I’m not going further away from you than I already am, and I’m especially not going to start playing house with your lover, Azriel, it’s odd—”
“That’s what this is about?” He cocks an eyebrow. Folds his arms. “Because you don’t want to accept help from Kaeda?”
You shrug. And just…just to give your body something to do, you begin pacing. “I’m not sure it would be very helpful at all.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You just don’t like her, do you?” He snaps. The sound is harsh, and it makes you grit your teeth. “You’re not willing to accept help that you so clearly fucking need, because you don’t like Kaeda.”
“I don’t trust Kaeda.” You whirl around to face him. “Not one fucking bit, and you shouldn’t, either.”
“Why?”
“Because none of it makes sense! Why is she here in Windhaven, Azriel? What is it she actually wants?”
It’s dangerous — the way your voices are rising in volume and echoing around the armoury. But it’s as though weeks of emotional buildup are floating to the surface, and you can’t stop them, and they’re stoking an anger that actually warms you and feels better than being cold and hungry.
Azriel shakes his head. “You’re fucking impossible sometimes, you know that? You don’t want to help yourself. It’s like you’re determined to make your life as difficult as possible, and when you’re offered help, you don’t take it. You’re impossible!”
“Yeah, Azriel, maybe I am.” You snap back. “But at least I’m not lying through my teeth like Kaeda is, and at least I don’t break my damn promises.”
Azriel stops short. Stares at you.
You and he both know you’re referring to Solstice Night. You should have confronted it before, but…but you buried it.
You’re not sure you can do that anymore.
Azriel purses his lips. And then has the nerve to state, “Things are different between you and I these days.”
“Yes.” You stare back at him. “They are.”
Your eyes are trying to communicate so much. Things are different, and it might be the boundaries you crossed, but you’re more certain than anything that it’s Kaeda’s influence. You just don’t understand why Azriel can’t see it.
You wonder what he might say yet. So much anger and pent-up frustration zips between you. Mixed with longing and missing each other. Loving each other. Wanting to scream at each other, and for each other.
And part of you wants him to spit vicious words and fight back, just for you to feel something — even though you know that’s not Azriel’s style. But you stare and stare, and neither of you speak, and then Az is shaking his head and clenching his jaw.
“I’m not arguing with you here.” He says. “It’ll only draw attention to us.”
You fold your arms. “Fine.”
“I’m going to speak to Rhys, find out what his father said. And I’ll speak to Kaeda—”
“Go right ahead. I’m still not stepping foot back in Fenlaros—”
“And I’ll bring you some blankets and food. Or Cassian will. Or…whatever.” He stops still for a second, swallowing. “But we need to fix this shit between us.”
You know that. But you’re so fucking stubborn, your own worst enemy. And right then, you want to scream. Cry. Hurt him how he hurt you.
So you say nothing. You just shrug again.
He stares, as if waiting for a better reaction. And then he shakes his head once more and turns, striding back to the door. You wonder if it’s a bad thing to let him go, like this. When will you see him again? How will things be when you see him again? You’re making it worse for yourself, for him, for both of you.
You open your mouth — to say what, you’re not sure. But you’re stopped by Az pausing with his hand on the doorknob. With his back to you, his shoulders tense. He’s frozen in place.
And then he speaks — growls — two words. “Fuck this.”
He turns, marching back over to you so fast, you don’t have time to react.
And then he’s grabbing your face, and his mouth is on yours.
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I will be truly shocked if the next Acotar book isn’t from Elain’s POV
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