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utterlyotterlyx · 2 months

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Constellations

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - Azriel can't allow himself to stand on the side lines anymore and watch as yet another male tries to take you away from him.

Warnings - oblivious reader and Az, angst, pining, Az and Nes being cuties, smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), lots of fluff, flirting

There were constellations in your eyes.

That was what everyone had said when they'd first met you, alluding to the clear fact that you were a deep daydreamer whenever you sprang to topic, which was more often than you'd think.

Prythian bowed to you, everyone in every nook and cranny in any court knew who you were. A shining star in a court of nightmares.

Every one of the High Lords held a special affection toward you, often asking you to leave Rhysand and the inner circle and join them instead. Helion had made a point of his fondness by making a comment about how other-worldly you looked in Day Court gold, and then later on teasing Rhys about how he would one day succeed in his desire.

Everyone could beg and plead for you as much as they wished, but none of their affection could rival how Azriel felt about you.

Azriel was your shadow. Wherever you went meant that the Shadowsinger stalked not too far behind. He would sit with you and hum whilst you ran your fingers through his hair, each touch sending lightening soaring through his soul. He would walk around Velaris with you endlessly if it meant that he could see that almost childlike wonder in your eyes when you looked at the same restaurant or bookshop that had surely seen a thousand times before. He would soothe away your nightmares, allowing his shadows to pepper your skin in sweet pecks as he held you, and he would let you get close enough to soothe him when his own demons plagued him.

That's why, when he stood to the side of the room with a whisky in hand, did he want to tear apart the male who dared to speak to you. Helion was no regular male. But, as you giggled at one of his flirtatious jokes and rested your hand on his chest, Azriel became sure that he could make him scream like one.

Helion was visiting from the Day Court and it was the last night of his stint, so Rhys had suggested that you all go to Rita's, to relax from the toll of the week. The High Lord in question needed access to a couple of special tomes in one of Velaris' archives, you and Rhys had agreed that the tomes were too valuable to allow outside of the city, so Helion had to come to you. Like all he wanted was another excuse to be around you.

Azriel couldn't blame Helion for it.

Azriel believed that you were the most precious thing on the planet. 500 years of friendship and you stunned him more and more each day with your anecdotes and the innocent chatter that always filled the room.

"He's really trying this again?" Nesta asked, appearing beside him at the railing, wanting to take a moment away from the family madness before Cassian dragged her to dance for the fifth time that night.

"Can you blame him?"

The top three buttons of his shirt were left untethered, exposing that rock hard muscle beneath that was ink kissed and shimmering. Azriel couldn't stop looking at you, you were wearing that dress that you loved so much, sheer white and glittered in fine crystals, a low scooped back that fell perfectly on your figure. It was the only thing that could truly take his breath away.

"When are you going to tell her that you love her?" Nesta gazed at you, she'd never admit it but you were definitely her favourite, she held a special spot for you in her heart, just how everyone did really. "You need to tell her," she turned to him and he peered down on her with a sincerity she'd never seen, "She's incredible, Az. She's not the kind of girl you let get away. Go and love her before someone else does."

"She deserves better than me, Nes," his sad gaze lifted to you, you were starlight and he was shadow, you were pure and he was horribly tainted, and he couldn't have his darkness snuffing out your light.

Nesta gently pulled his sight from the dancefloor, making him focus on her by keeping her palm grazing against his cheek, "You're not a very good spymaster if you can't see how she looks at you."

Azriel didn't know what to say, he just knew that he had to get to you. He rounded Nesta and descended onto the dancefloor, barging past the grinding bodies with you in his sight, sipping your drink and smiling brightly at Helion who was stood far too close to you. You always felt Azriel looming, his shadows curling around your ankles always being a tell-tale sign that he was close.

Your eyes followed the trails of his shadows until you found their owner, your brows furrowed at the urgency he wore whilst he kept glancing at Helion with a tight jaw. It was unsettling.

"I need to speak to you," he pleaded, taking a step closer to you and you had no choice but to look up at him, to let those rippling pools of hazel drown you.

"Az, is every-"

"Please," he cut you off, reaching for you but not quite touching, like he was waiting for your agreement so that he could whisk you away.

You had never seen Azriel look so pained, so pleading and desperate. Without a word to Helion, you nodded and Azriel's fingers slid around your wrists, pulling you into a whirl of colour until you stood on a floor that you recognised and Rita's faded away.

The cabin was warm, everything was in place and tidy, that scent burning wood and orange that clung to the cabin flooded your lungs and made you shiver with delight. You had always loved the place, how perfectly small it was for a lone escape, where you could watch the snow fall from the bay window with a hot chocolate in hand and blanket wrapped tightly around your legs.

It took you a moment to centre yourself, and when you turned, you saw Azriel stood there, head hung low and wings drooped but relishing in the comfortable warmth of where you both were, "What's wrong, Az?"

The only light illuminating the cabin was from the fire, that crackling beast that sent gold and orange light roaring across the space, it welcomed in the faint glow of the moon that spilled onto the floor like an old friend.

"You can't go with Helion," he told you, well, more blurted at you.

"Go with Helion?" You asked and he nodded, anger bubbled in your chest, "Why would I ever do that?"

"He's wanted to take you from us for so long," 200 years to be exact, "Who could blame him, you're the most incredible thing that Prythian has ever made. I thank the Mother every day for you."

"What?"

"Please let me finish," he hated cutting you off, he hated being the reason that you were silenced, "If you speak now, I'll never be able to say what I have to say, what I need to say."

Azriel watched your face soften, the anger that threatened to boil over now evaporated, he watched you move to the sofa and sit down, patting the empty space beside you. He didn't know how you did it, how you could make someone feel so comfortable and heard, he thought about it as he took the seat beside you and heaved in a deep breath, curling one of his wings around you as if he was scared that you'd bolt.

"I love you, Y/N. I love your kindness, how you've never been scared of me. I love the way your eyes sparkle when you're talking about something you're passionate about. I love how you scrunch your nose when you're deep in thought. I love the way you bolt through the streets of Velaris before solstice to make sure everyone is as spoilt as possible. I love you, Y/N. I love everything that you are and everything that we can be, I can't lose you, I don't know who or what I'd be without you."

"There is no one who knows you like I do. I know that you sneak an extra spoonful of sugar into your hot chocolate before Nesta can catch you and tell you off," you smiled softly, "I know that you secretly hate shopping with Mor but would much rather suffer than tell her and take some of her spark away. I know that you can never tell Cassian that Nesta is your favourite unless you wanted to see him sulk for weeks," a soft laugh flew from your lips, "I know you're the reason that Rhys, Cass and I turned out so well, you're the only person we couldn't bear to disappoint."

Not once did you stop looking at him as he spoke. He loved you. Azriel really loved you.

"You love me?" Azriel nodded gently, "But, what about Elain? I thought..."

"Me and Elain?" Azriel's eyes were frantic, "No, Y/N. Gods no. You're the only one I've ever wanted, I tried to love someone else, I tried to love Mor, and maybe on some level I tried to find that with Elain. But no one could ever compare to you, anyone who isn't you aren't worth it."

Silence filled the air, that warm, golden hued air. Azriel was trying to read your mind, to figure out what you were thinking when you started laughing, tears pooled at your bottom lids and one blink sent them flowing down your cheeks. Azriel shuffled closer to you, taking his thumb and wiping away your tears before they dripped from your chin.

"We're so stupid, Az," you sniffled, letting him cradle your face in his hands and continue to wipe away any tears that fell from your eyes, "How could we be so blind?"

"What do you mean?"

Tilting your head to the side, your eyes sparkled, just how they did when you looked at or spoke about something you loved, then you felt it, that tension that had always tugged at your soul snapping into place, clouds of grey became clear sunny skies, and a golden thread soared across it and thrummed with yearning delight.

"I mean," you tugged on that thread, you watched his eyes widen and fill with disbelief, "That I love you too. So much."

"You're my mate," he confessed in a whisper, the bond sprouting into full bloom around you, like you could both see the tendrils of thread sewing your souls together.

Azriel's breath fanned across your face, hot and laced with the scent of whisky, the tip of his nose ran down the slope of your own, and you felt his lips lie millimetres away from yours, you watched his eyes search your soul before flickering downward to the place he craved to touch. Anticipation pulled at your chest and swelled in your stomach, and every bit of doubt vanished when he closed the gap and pressed his lips to yours.

It was like everything fell into place, like the world only began to make sense in that moment. Azriel's lips moved against yours hungrily, the sweep of his tongue into your mouth once you had granted him permission to taste you was enough to make your knees go weak. Heat pooled between your legs and you scrambled to be on top of him, the hem of your dress hitched around your thighs as you rested into his lap.

"Please, Az," you breathed between starving kisses, "I need you."

Azriel's hands moved from the back of your neck and the small of your back, reaching around to grip underneath your thighs, so dangerously close to where you needed him to be. He lifted you, not once breaking the connection of your lips, locking your legs around his waist as he carried you to the bedroom.

"I'm not making you mine on a couch," he lay you on the bed and climbed on top of you, running his fingers down the sides of your thighs, making your back arch as he peppered kisses down your neck, sucking and nibbling on the skin he found there.

You squirmed beneath him, itching to rip his clothes off and allow him to take every part of you, "Please," you whined into his hair, his hand palming your breasts and lips attached to your earlobe, making soft moans fall through your stumbling mouth.

"Tell me what you want," his voice was so deep that it made goosebumps rise across your skin, it was sultry and dark, it matched the shade of his eyes when he pulled away to look down on you with swollen lips and tousled hair. "I'll give you everything."

"I want you."

It was all he needed to hear in order to tear your dress in two and take your hardened nipples in his mouth, sucking and biting on them gently, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nubs of nerves that had you gasping and eyes rolling to the back of your head. You felt like your body was on fire as he kept moving downward, littering kisses down your stomach before resting between your thighs.

The cold air against your core made you gasp again, he ran a finger down your soaked folds and moaned, "You're so wet for me," his voice vibrated against the inside of your thighs, "So perfect," he mumbled before his tongue dragged a line up you, and then again, and again until you were a blubbering mess fisting your fingers through his hair.

Azriel flicked his tongue against that familiar bundle of nerves, curling his tongue around it and sucking on it gently so that he didn't overstimulate you. Stars crept in to the sides of your vision, that hot white heat building in the pit of your stomach, "Don't stop," they were barely coherent words but he heard you and kept his pace, teasing a finger around your entrance before slowly pushing it in an curling it upward.

It sent you toppling off the edge. That white heat burst from you, loud cries of his name flew from your lips and your hands gripped his wrists, stars poured into your eyes and Azriel pushed you through your high.

Too lost in the mind shattering orgasm he had just given you, you didn't feel his hands ran up your back and lock around the back of your neck, you didn't realise that your torso and head were propped up in his arms or see his wings flex above you, "Angel," he cooed, he clenched his hands into your hair and pressed his lips along your jaw, "Let me take care of you."

Azriel was bare before you, his length solid and resting against your thigh, "Make me yours, Az."

Azriel growled, his eyes darkened with possession, "Tell me if it's too much and we can stop," you nodded breathlessly and he kissed you again, harder this time as he pushed himself inside of you, your walls still quivering and pulsating around him.

Once he was pushed to the hilt inside of you, he groaned, it was deep and guttural, the most incredible sound you'd ever heard. Azriel gave you a moment, and you tapped his shoulder lightly to get him to move, you were needing him to move, it was getting too much. Your soul was burning with desire and you needed him to satisfy it before it completely ignited you.

Your mate thrusted into you, the roll of his hips reaching angles you didn't know existed, he took your nipple in his mouth again, growling as his pace quickened and the sound of slapping flesh and declarations of love filled the air.

"You're so beautiful, Angel," his lips found yours again and his movements became sloppy, "I'm so close," he felt your warmth tighten around him, ready to milk his cock as high pitched mewls exploded from your lips, "There she is, my perfect mate."

Azriel's fingers wound in your hair, pressing your forehead to his as he slammed into you, riding you both through those searing hot highs and continuing the long strokes as you both fell down, "I'm yours, Az. I'm all yours."

Authors Note

😌

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florencemtrash · 5 months

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Heads Will Roll | Azriel x Reader Oneshot

Warnings: Violence (aka Reader kills some fae and Rhysand and Azriel are 100% cool with it), fluff

One of Koschei's followers turns up to the Court of Nightmares prepared to make a bargain: your life in exchange for Ataraxia. But he'll soon learn that you are not to be underestimated, and you are always exactly where you want to be.

Azriel bristled from behind Feyre’s shoulder when the male winnowed into the Court of Nightmares in a dramatic display of power that had everyone beneath the dais falling back.

He was all sharp lines, emboldened by the pure black silhouette of his cape that flared out behind him, teasingly parting to reveal the bone white sword strapped to his right hip that seemed to whisper with horrible power. The only piece of him that didn’t look like it was cut from death and destruction were his bright blue eyes - startlingly innocent and all the more unnerving for it. He fit in well with the violence the Court of Nightmares naturally radiated.

Rhysand’s eyebrow curled up in a look of carefully crafted boredom from atop his obsidian throne. The only one who looked more nonchalant than him was Feyre. She tilted her head up, staring down the slant of her nose to the unknown male as he extended his arms and bowed as prettily as a bird.

“Greetings.” Even his voice was sharp and cutting. “To the Lord and Lady.”

Cassian frowned from behind Rhysand’s back at the omission of their proper title. To the outside, Rhysand was anything if not bored. Inside, he was ready to blow the male to bits. He wore Koschei’s stamp on his forehead, red and dripping like a fresh wound.

Neither the High Lord nor the High Lady deigned to reply.

The male only smiled. All teeth.

“I come to you on behalf of my master.” His smile grew. More teeth. “You may have heard his name.”

“Koschei.” The name rolled off Feyre’s lips as easily as if she were ordering a meal - blasé and unimportant. But the name shifted the energy in the room, stirring up hornet's nests of gossip. Heads bowed towards one another like grass stalks in the wind, whispering.

Feyre tapped one finger on her forehead, “He has a fondness for marking his followers.”

“Like a collar on a dog.” Rhysand finished. He stroked the bond, grounded by the feeling of Feyre’s very soul on the other side. She had always been - and always would be - his calm.

“My name is Darwynn.” The male tipped his white head, “And I bring news from my master. News you may find worthy of your time.”

Azriel’s heart picked up in his chest.

He knew what was coming - the words that would soon slip out of Darwynn’s mouth. You’d been gone for over a week and he felt your absence from his side as intensely as if someone had ripped the wings from his back. Empty, cold, and unbalanced.

For the first three days he hadn’t worried, even as the bond lay dormant in his chest. It wasn’t uncommon for you to hunt after secrets, unraveling mysteries like threads in a coat or diving into the unknown with an insatiable appetite.

Three days were nothing. But nine days was getting to be concerning.

“Go on.” Feyre said with a wave of her hand, looking more interested in the glass of wine in her hand than anything else.

Darwynn reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin string of silver stained with blood - a necklace crafted from unbreakable metal with a deep blue pendant swaying like a pendulum. It was a piece of one of Azriel’s siphons, imbued with a small measure of his power and given to you as a Solstice gift after you’d accepted the bond. In the twenty years you’d been together, you’d never once taken it off. It was unnatural to see it swinging in the cruel male's hands.

Cassian growled. Azriel’s jaw clenched, beautiful brows lifting only ever so slightly in surprise. It was the only expression the Shadowsinger had shown all night.

Rhysand mirrored his expression. “Ahhhh yes, my sister. How long has she been missing for now, Az?” Rhysand looked back at him, some unspoken agreement passing through that brief glance. If this male had truly captured you, he would not be leaving this room with his head still on his shoulders.

“Nine days.” The Shadowsinger said, his mouth twitching to the side in a cryptic mix of a smirk and a snarl.

“You have her.” Feyre said. It wasn’t a question.

Darwynn’s eyes lit up with glee and he nodded, clapping his hands together like a child opening birthday presents.

“And what do you want for her? That is why you are here, is it not?” Feyre said once his “applause” ended.

Darwynn shook his finger at her, “It is comforting to know that since Amarantha’s trials, you’ve learned to - how shall I say this? Read between the lines.”

“Careful.” Rhysand said, a warning trapped within that honey-laced word. Feyre’s illiteracy was hardly a concern for anyone anymore - Rhysand had seen to that - but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a subject that smarted and burned when prodded.

Feyre’s dark red lips only turned up in a small smirk. Her mate would not allow any harm to befall her - even insults from pathetic creatures such as Darwynn.

"But I digress." Darwynn said silkily, “You should know she is uninjured-”

“Obviously,” Cassian huffed under his breath, stealing a glance at his brother beside him. Azriel was handling this surprisingly well. If it were Nesta who’d been kidnapped and held for ransom, Cassian would not be able to school his emotions so readily.

“And my master would like to make a trade.”

“A trade?” Rhysand said, displaying more interest in the subject than ever before. This was an opportunity to play Koschei’s hand. To gain whatever knowledge they could from the slippery sorcerer who was gaining more momentum each passing day. Koschei was still confined to his lake on the continent, but that didn’t mean he was powerless. No, not at all.

Darwynn pointed a knowing finger at Rhysand’s belt where Ataraxia rested as silent as the death that hung over a deep winter’s night.

“I see.” Rhysand said.

So that’s what he wants. Feyre spoke to him through the bond, Some trace of Nesta’s power.

Y/n was right. He wants to leave the lake.

And he needs whatever power Nesta took from the Cauldron to do it.

Rhys hummed in thought, one finger lazily tracing the edge of his drink. He knew his sister, knew the power that raced through her veins, and she was not one to be trifled with. But people loved to underestimate her - the poor second child too weak and damaged to fight after losing her wings to the old High Lord of Spring. The female who rested on her brother’s strength and crown like a sapling tied to a stake. She wielded those assumptions carefully. It was perhaps one of her greatest weapons.

Nine days. She’d been gone for nine days. Nine days since he’d sent her on a mission to the continent to spy on Koschei’s followers. Six days since anyone had heard from her. Three days since her scheduled return.

Azriel stiffened and blinked - a movement so subtle that only Rhys, Cass, and Feyre noticed. All at once the tension left Rhysand's shoulders. Such a reaction from Az could only mean one thing - you'd arrived.

Rhysand clicked his tongue disapprovingly, taking a deep draught of his wine and muttered, “She’s late.”

“She likes to be thorough.” Azriel said with the smallest of smiles.

“Even so. I don’t like to be kept waiting. She could’ve been captured sooner. Escaped earlier. Given us notice that she was coming.” He shook his raven black hair.

Azriel smirked, feeling the strength of the bond in his chest. Never wavering, “Maybe she finally decided to adopt your flair for the dramatic.” His golden hazel eyes flickered upward for the briefest of moments and you flashed him a quick smile from where you hid in the mountain rock above.

You’d only just opened your side of the bond, love and reassurance rolling over him like a flood. You were safe. You were whole. And you had carried out your plan beautifully.

Sorry to keep you waiting, my love. I had business to attend to. You spoke to your mate and only him.

I'd wait forever for you. You know that.

He felt your laughter through the bond like the fresh rain.

Who would've guessed the Spymaster's such a romantic.

Only for you. Only for you.

Darwynn narrowed his eyes, lips flattening into a thin line as pale as the moon. Something had changed in the air and he couldn't put his finger on it. This wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. He knew the Inner Circle were practiced in hiding their emotions but this… they almost looked pleased. Cassian especially was grinning like a madman, suppressing his laughter as Rhysand sent his thoughts to his mind.

“My master keeps good on his promises. But until you give me the bade, I can’t promise you what pieces of your wife there will be left to bring back.” Darwynn snarled, even as that feeling of dread grew in his stomach. He’d walked in here so confident. He needed to regain that confidence. He relaxed his shoulders. Stood up taller.

A wet thud echoed throughout the hall. Someone screamed - a female with blue-gray skin reeled backward, one hand clamped over her mouth in horror as she tripped over her blood-splattered silks.

A decapitated head - warm, oozing, and less than a day old - lolled on the floor. Its eyes were frozen in a look of surprised horror.

Darwynn’s heart stuttered to a stop when he recognized the bloated and bruised face. The face of one of his strongest males, left behind on the continent to watch over Koschei’s prison.

Rhysand smirked and raised his wine glass towards Darwynn. The High Lord’s power flooded out over the room, knitting together a powerful web of magic that made it impossible for anyone to winnow in or out. Except for you of course - his darling sister who never failed to find the weak points in his magic and slip through as slyly as a cat.

“There’s something you should know about my dear sister.” Rhysand’s voice boomed over the near-silent room without even trying.

A second head dropped from the ceiling. Then a third. Then a fourth. Laid out in a neat little arc around Darwynn.

“She never gets caught. She is always precisely where she wants to be.”

Azriel’s eyes were trained on the slate gray arches overheard where he could just barely make out your form as you winnowed around the room, hiding in the shadows and dropping your gruesome packages in a neat circle around Darwynn’s shaking form.

The male unsheathed his sword, spinning around madly and counting every thud until all twelve of your guards were accounted for.

All dead.

All of them.

He growled dangerously, eyes beginning to glow a brilliant, icy blue as he aimed his power at the dais, right towards Rhysand. Azriel smiled with cruel satisfaction when you slipped out from behind Darwynn’s silhouette, bloodied and menacing. The knife glinted in the faelight, catching the curve of your arm as you spun around and drove the weapon through Darwynn’s eye. The light wrapping around him fizzled out into anything.

The male rocked on his feet, arms going slack and dropping the sword with a clatter on the ground. His legs gave out soon after, his body crumpling in on itself as easily as paper.

You calmly rolled down the sleeves of your blood-soaked shirt, flicking a piece of gore off your shoulder in a manner so similar to Rhysand that your brother couldn't help but chuckle.

You flashed him a grin - a stroke of white brushed across a red splattered canvas.

“Brother.” You said, tipping your chin up in a show of greeting.

“A bit dramatic, don’t you think, sister?” Rhysand gestured out to the Court of Nightmares. You spared them a look. Everyone looked positively sinful in their scraps of silk and exposed skin, silent and trembling as their dinners burned their way up from their stomachs to their throats.

You shrugged and winked at Rhys, “I learned from the best.”

“Go get cleaned up.” He said. It was a clear and direct command, but you didn’t miss the warmth and hint of pride in his voice.

“As my High Lord commands.” You said, bowing deeply.

At home. Rhysand spoke in your mind as you straightened. Get some rest. You did well.

You sighed in relief, happy that you would be free from whatever Court of Nightmare business left to attend to.

Thank you.

There was a brief pause before Rhysand continued, But next time you plan to get kidnapped, let me know. I was actually starting to worry and I’m not sure my old heart can take it.

You snorted, I’ll keep your elderly constitution in mind next time.

You dipped your head once more before winnowing to the River House. The smell of home nearly knocked you off your feet.

There would be more time to joke around with your brother - more time to tell him everything you’d learned - but right now you were in desperate need of a bath.

______________

You sank into your third bath of the night, groaning in pleasure as the hot water rolled over your aching muscles. The first two baths had purely functioned to scrub off the dried blood from your hair and skin. The majority of it wasn’t yours. But this bath, with all the fragrant oils and scents, was for enjoyment and relaxation.

It was no easy business getting kidnapped, and no easy business escaping. But like every other mission, you’d made away like a bandit in the night, carrying with you priceless pieces of knowledge and enough secrets to demolish an entire court.

Your eyes flickered open at the feeling of shadows lacing around your arms, soothing your skin with a cool touch that was no replacement for the hands that followed.

Finally your mate had decided to join you.

You sighed in happiness as Azriel trailed his fingers up your arms, scarred hands landing at your neck and gently tilting your head back so he could plant a firm kiss on your lips.

The bond sang within your chest more joyfully than a songbird. You didn’t like silencing this connection, you didn’t like shutting Azriel out, but sometimes your work necessitated it. It was for your safety as much as his. But no one understood that more than the Spymaster of the Night Court.

“Hello, my love.” Azriel’s voice vibrated through the air, warming your chest and shaking your bones.

“Hello, Azriel.” You murmured, soapy hands trailing through his raven black hair so that he was completely surrounded by your scent.

“Gods, I missed you.” He said. He knelt on the tiled floor behind you, wrapping his arms around your bare chest as he buried his face in your neck and breathed you in. “I missed you so much." A kiss on your neck, "So, so much.”

“I missed you too.” You murmured, pulling him around to the side of the tub so that you could see him better. You traced the faint purple bruises beneath his eyes. Not an unfamiliar sight. Azriel had never been a restful sleeper, but since mating and marrying you, he’d been spoiled rotten and now could barely sleep a wink without you curled up in his arms.

“Sorry I messed up your hair.” You apologized, twirling the now damp strands of his hair so they curled around your fingers.

He smiled. It was a rare sight to anyone other than you, but seeing him happy never ceased to warm your bones.

“You did well, darling.” He said, smoothing back your hair before saying more seriously, “But next time could you tell me your plans before you shut me out?”

You winced. “I’m sorry. There wasn’t time.”

“I figured as much.” Azriel said, kissing your cheeks to show that he wasn’t upset. You leaned into his touch as he traced your cheekbones with his thumbs.

You were the most precious thing in the world to him. More precious than his wings. More precious than his freedom. More precious than the 500 hundred years it had taken him to finally realize what you were to him. The thought of losing you was more painful than a knife to the stomach.

“You can trust me.” You said, “I know how to handle myself.”

Azriel chuckled and shook his head, “I am very well aware of both those things,” He tilted his head in thought, “And I’m fairly certain everyone else also knows now.”

You blushed, “Maybe it was a bit much.”

Azriel shrugged, “Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is one thing.”

“And what is this one thing?” You asked, leaning forward and capturing his lips in another kiss. He tasted like cedar and rain. He tasted like home.

“That you should never be afraid of showing your power. Never. No matter what happens. No matter what people say.”

His hand that had been cradling the back of your neck moved down, tracing the scars on your shoulder blades where your wings had once been. You shivered under his touch, but didn’t recoil. He understood. He was perhaps the only person who understood what it meant to have such a physical piece of yourself taken away.

You kissed his hands, taking care to feel every valley beneath your lips and worship them. They were a part of him now, tied to him as much as his shadows were, and so how could you not love them? How could you not love him? This male who was your equal in every way imaginable and who made you feel happier and safer than you ever thought possible.

He helped you out of the bathtub, drying your skin and hair before carefully brushing through all the tangles and knots.

“I should go report to Rhys.” You said with little determination as Azriel laid you out on the bed and then crawled under the covers beside you, pulling you against his chest and wrapping you both under the protective cover of his wings.

“Let it wait until tomorrow. Let me have you tonight.”

You smiled, “I’ve only been gone nine days.”

His hazel eyes melted into yours. “Nine days too long, Y/n.”

You could never deny him anything when he looked at you like that, so full of feeling and a rawness too intense for words. And it wasn’t like you were dying to leave this bed and chase after your brother. Like Azriel had said - it could wait until tomorrow. So you melted into his arms and watched as Azriel slowly fell into a deep sleep for the first time in nine days.

______________

Author's note:

A woman covered in the blood of her enemies is *chef's kisses*

That's it. That's the note.

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x rhysand's sister #rhysand's sister #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #inner circle x reader #the inner circle #azriel x you #azriel #shadowsinger x reader #feyre archeron #rhysand #high lord rhysand #High Lady feyre #cassian #cassian acotar

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azsazz · 7 months

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You Know My Desires

Kinktober Day 1: Azriel x Reader [Wingplay]

Summary: Azriel is a jealous male, and you know just how to calm him down.

Warnings: Smut, wingplay, jealousy, possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics.

Word Count: 2,892

Notes: Alrighty, let’s do this!

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He’s trapped.

Boots rooted to the unusually pristine floors of the Court of Nightmares ballroom. Body rigid and frozen, nearly vibrating with rage. His wings ache from being held taut, and his teeth are on the verge of cracking from how tightly set his jaw is.

If he moves, this entire sub-court will perish.

A patron indulging on the gluts of the party—rich, fae wine and hor d'oeuvres paired with teasing touches and lew moans—stumbles nearby, her steps faltering as she passes through the bubble of his anger. Azriel watches her from his peripherals as she locks up, shivering as if his shadows are raking their way down her spine. His hazel glare stays locked somewhere across the dance floor.

Right to where you’re dancing with him.

Not even the fire that had scorched his hands when he was young hurt as badly as watching this bastard twirl you around the ballroom.

Rasor’s grin is a wicked one. It’s twinged with secrets and chaos that Azriel doesn’t like; pale, gray eyes alight with mischief and lust. He hates the male leading you in this less than formal dance. Of course he does—he knows every single creature lurking at this unnecessary party. Rasor is a suck up, a male who gets off on trying to be like his High Lord, snarky and silver-tongued.

He is a failure at even that.

Azriel fantasizes about killing him for the way that his hands are on you. One, settled so low on your hip it’s nearly on your ass, the other clutching yours tightly as he guides you gracefully across the floor.

Everyone’s attention is on the two of you and it stings. If he knew anything other than hundreds of ways to torture a male for touching what is his, he might have asked you to dance. The shadowy corner of the room provides the darkness he requires to seethe like the fucking pathetic male he is.

You need to calm down, Rhysand says gently within his mind. Azriel desperately wants to roll his eyes at the High Lords warning, to cut a glare to where he’s lounging on his throne, but his mind doesn’t allow him to let his gaze stray from you for even a moment. Or everyone’s going to wonder why the ballroom is pitched in darkness. And I can only cover for so long.

Immediately, Azriel reels his shadows back. He watches the way your brows furrow and cast over Rasor’s shoulder when he pulls you against his chest in a move that makes even the fae fucking in the corner gape in awe. You’re seeking him out, wondering if he’s reigned his shadows back because he’s left.

No. He would never leave you.

I hate this, is all Azriel replies, but he means much more than that.

I need her for a bit longer, Rhysand says, and Azriel can feel that violet gaze on him, even if he’s shrouded in darkness. Do I need to have Cassian remove you?

Azriel wants to fight. He wants to launch himself across the ballroom and land a killing blow to your dance partner. No—he wants to paralyze the male and then take you to the floor and fuck you, claim you, mark you with his hands, his teeth, his cum, until every last patron knows who you belong to.

He takes a breath but it’s a struggle.

No.

But you laugh at something Rasor says and Azriel sees red.

His shadows consume him, moving him from his spot in the corner of the room to the middle of the dance floor.

A female shrieks at his sudden appearance but he doesn’t care, baring his teeth when her partner runs into his side. He’s behind you, catching you around the waist mid-twirl. Your dress is still the silky smooth it was when he caressed your thighs and had taken you before you left, his cum leaking down the insides of your thighs masked by the dark fabric. He had wanted to lap the mixture of both of your orgasms from your legs like the Godly ichor it was, but instead he’d asked you to let it dry, a warning to any male who’d try to make their move on what’s his.

Rasor either hadn’t taken the hint or he’d ignored it completely, a dangerous act, and one Azriel will kill over.

The shadowsinger swears he can feel the other male’s fingerprints on your hips, and he doesn’t like it.

Not. One. Bit.

Your gasp is soft as Azriel’s hands gently but possessively wrap around you. It makes his cock twitch in his leathers. The way that your hands find his, clutching them tightly as he moves you makes him preen on the inside, his face a solid mask of steel.

Rasor looks less than pleased to have his dancing partner taken from him. His eerie gray eyes flicker over to where the High Lord has sat up in his throne. Azriel doesn’t like that, fighting the urge to strike. Rhysand pounds on the solid walls of shadow in his mind but Azriel doesn’t answer the demand. He doesn’t care if he’s not invited to the next ball, he’ll kill Rasor before then so there’s no chance of him getting his hands on you again.

As badly as he wants to growl ‘mine’ to the still-staring male, Azriel allows his shadows to twine around the both of you in an intricate manner that has some of the patrons flushing. His pets put on an extravagant show as they twist and turn around you, swallowing you to take you from this plain to the next, and Azriel grins like a feral beast, meeting the eyes of the wretched male who had taken you from him tonight, before the darkness consumes you both.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

“What was that?” you ask, annoyance lacing your tone. You hadn’t finished your mission—hadn’t schmoozed Rasor enough to slip you the information your High Lord desired. No, Azriel had appeared—though you hadn’t been surprised, you could feel his anger writhing through the room like a beast stalking its prey—before he had stolen you away from the party, depositing you back in your shared chambers.

Azriel stares. His demeanor is calm, but his hazel eyes are brimming with fury. You cross your arms, looking right back. A challenge.

“You laughed at something he said.” It sounds silly now that he says it aloud, but it irks him, your eyes lighting and that sweet sound falling from your gorgeous lips because of another male. A more disgusting male. A more untrustworthy male.

“I didn’t mean to,” you reply, a touch softer. You tug on the bond tethering your souls together, but Azriel does not react.

“It was no accident.”

“You know my desires,” is your simple answer. And with it, you tug on the bond again, harder this time, watching how Azriel sways slightly towards you, the way that his throat bobs. A teasing smile threatens to stretch your lips, but instead you bite at your lip, a taunt. “Do you want me to show you?”

There is no waiting for his answer. You slide the shoulders of your dress off, heat pooling between your legs from his heated stare alone. Your nipples tighten as Azriel follows the movements of your manicured nails, the salacious way your body writhes as the buttery fabric slips down your body. Your eyes flutter shut and your lips part in a gasp as the dress slides across your sensitive breasts.

Azriel closes the distance in one step but your hand flies out, planting right over his pounding heart to stop him in his tracks.

“No,” you whisper as his brows pull tight. “I want to show you.” Punish him, you mean, for ruining your mission.

He grunts roughly, shaking his wings out to dispel some of the frenetic energy rushing through his veins. Your eyes catch on them, and it gives you an idea. Your heart beats with desire, right in time with your mates.

Stepping forward, you help him out of his leathers. Your movements are slow, a tease of your fingertips across his chest as you reach around him to undo the buttons of his shirt. Azriel growls low as you intentionally brush across the ridges of his wings, and his large hands come to plant themselves on your hips, steadying you so that you don’t touch them again.

You look up at him through lowered lashes, licking over your lips seductively. Your mate tracks the motion, and his arms tremble with the effort to keep his hands still instead of dipping down between your thighs where your arousal calls to him.

“Sorry,” you whisper against his lips, and when he closes the distance you pull away, kneeling in front of him.

Gods, do you look fucking delicious on your knees for him like that. Staring up at him with wide eyes and a sinful smile on your lips. You look like you're two seconds away from taking out his length to lick down his shaft and shove him down your throat, and he can’t wait.

He stays silent, patient as you lean forward to mouth at the fabric keeping his throbbing cock contained. Every breath is a shudder, and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, empty by his sides. He wants to bury them into your hair and guide your head down his cock, but you’ve said that you want to touch him, and until you say otherwise, he will obey.

Azriel’s cock springs free as you pull the leathers from his legs. His glorious, thick thighs on display, packed deep with muscle. You’re soaked, and the urge to grind yourself against him hits full force. Azriel steps out of his trousers and you almost whimper at the sight of his cock pulling away from you, but you remind yourself that you have ulterior motives here.

Your mate helps you to your feet upon your request, and then you’re throwing your arms around his shoulders and kissing him deeply. Distracting him is what you’re doing. Azriel’s hands find your waist and hold you tight, lifting you into his arms with an ease that makes your heart skip. He’s thoroughly occupied with touching your exposed skin and dipping his tongue into your mouth, and then you strike, trailing your fingers across the tips of his wings again.

Instead of ripping his mouth from yours in irritation, Azriel presses further into you, tasting you deep with a noise that you take as approval. Again, you gently finger over the rugged skin of his wings, dipping lower as he raises them for you to touch.

They’re silky and soft, raised in places where they’d been wounded, but even the silvery scars make him shudder with pleasure. He bites your lower lip, grunting and bucking his hips into yours when you breeze over one of the more sensitive parts of him.

“Bed,” you gasp against his mouth, and he has no complaints.

You seem more than eager, tugging on him with both hands and bond, so Azriel lays himself on the bed, keeping you flush to his chest while he settles.

It’s perfect for what you want to do.

Azriel bucks but you pull your hips away from his. He groans your name, hands sliding down your sides to curl around your waist and tug you back into his body, but you’re not having it, no matter how much your body craves to be against his.

You chide, “I want to touch, Az, remember?”

He sighs in frustration. He loves when your hands are all over him, needy and desperate, stroking his cock and leaving marks across his chest, but right now, still annoyed with Rasor and Rhysand and the entirety of the Court of Nightmares, all Azriel wants to do is fill you with his seed until he owns you and you’re screaming his name.

You peck him on the mouth once, twice, pressing your chest flat against his. You shiver at the touch of your hardened nipples against the warmth of his body, but you keep your hips high, hovering above his cock. You can feel the heat it’s giving off, the throbbing uncomfortableness that’s shared down the bond with you, like you might take pity on him and sink down on it.

You won’t.

Instead, you spread his arms wide, tracing the dips and curves of his musculature until your fingers slip off and onto his wings, spread flat against the bed.

Azriel jumps. Your name is a low warning from his mouth but he doesn’t have the time to say anything else because you’re scratching lightly down the softness of his wings and his words break off into a breathy moan.

“Fuck, baby.”

And you know he likes it, no matter how much he warns you to stay away. You can feel the heat blooming in your own gut, mirror to his emotions that are drifting down the bond. It feels good, albeit dulled because you’re not him, but it makes your cunt wetter, dripping onto his cock below.

“You feel so good,” you murmur, kissing along his neck. It’s exposed from the way that his head is thrown back at the sensations wracking his body from your touch, and you take full advantage, marking him in the way that he wants to claim you.

“I’d feel even better inside of you,” he curses when you swirl your fingers around the base of his talons, followed by spreading your palms wide and dragging them across the velvety body of his wings again.

“We’ll get there, Az. Soon,” you respond, peeling your torso from his. His hands steel themselves to your hips. He’s afraid that you’re pulling away completely when actually, you’re leaning over one of his wings and brushing your mouth against it.

Your lips on his wings feel like your mouth on his cock—wet, warm, and sensitive. Your touch is gentle, a soft scrape of your nails against the thin skin has him pressing his head further into the pillows, biting through his lip to keep himself from cumming.

The taste of his blood only adds to his arousal.

His body shakes, hands planted so firmly on your hips as you hover above his aching cock that you know he’s leaving bruises. You don’t care, not because he ruined your assignment from the High Lord, but because he is yours just as much as you are his, and you were made to be marked by him.

“If I could make your cum stain my skin, I would,” you whisper against the flesh of his wing. You know he’s heard you because his hips buck higher, seeking out yours, and the debauched moan that slips from his mouth is a song to your soul. “So everyone knows that I am yours, Azriel.”

He cums with a noise that he’s not all too proud of, but his mind is muddled and he’s seeing stars. He spurts hot and white, coating the inside of your thighs and you quake when it splatters on your opening, legs nearly giving out from the feeling alone.

You work him through it, though it feels even more tortuous now, because his wings are sensitive. Your fingers trace pretty lines across the expanse of the leathery skin, tongue lapping across raised scars and dips that have never been touched, so sensitive that he chokes back a whimper, cock twitching, trying to rise again.

It’s as if you’re on top of the world, making your mate cum without touching his raging cock. It’s neglected, red at the tip and weeping still as you slowly retract your touch from his wings. His hands are slack against your waist but his body is taut, rock solid, and there’s a full body blush creeping from his chest and up his neck, embarrassed that he’s cum from your mouth on his wings alone, even if they are the most sensitive part of an Illyrian male.

But you’re beaming, gaze heavy and hot, aroused at the sight of him undone beneath you. Your cunt clenches with need. Your thighs are soaked and for a fleeting second you regret letting him cum because you need his cock filling you up right this very second or else.

Azriel senses it, as a good mate does. His fingers dig into your hips again before one releases you. He takes his cock in hand, giving it a few rough tugs before guiding you lower. Your head falls back on your shoulders at the feeling of his cum-coated cock nestled against your entrance. Your entire body shudders, but you force yourself to look at your mate, a questioning look in your eyes.

“I need you again,” his voice is rough, strained. Azriel’s cock is sensitive but it’s already filling up again at the touch of your cunt alone. It will be a bit painful until he’s fully erect again, but it won’t be long because you are the most beautiful female he’s ever seen, and your cunt is otherworldly. He’s going to keep you here all night, he decides, and he will take you until the both of you are cum drunk and unable to move. His hazel eyes grow a shade darker at the thought. “Now be a good girl and ride it.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Kinktober Taglist: @bunnymallowo

#azriel x reader #azriel smut #azriel wingplay #azsazz #azsazz kinktober 2023 #acotar #acomaf #acowar #azriel/reader

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kayjayjwrites · 1 month

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Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter One

Summary: Azriel Shadowsinger, mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, was head over heels in love with you for years. Everyone in the room could see it, except for you of course. A series of connected one-shots.

Chapter Word Count: 6,350

Chapter Content Warnings: fluff, some cursing, one bed trope, awkward but wholesome communication, AFAB Reader, Reader (You), some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish, reader low key being thirsty for Azzie

Note: Hello! Welcome to my first fic in like 10 years! This idea came about when I was having a hard time falling back asleep. I sometimes draft fanfiction when i'm trying to sleep. I don't often remember the plots come morning, but the memory of this one remained intact enough for me to jot down. I’m thinking this update is gonna be the longest chapter because it's both prologue and the first chapter, but I have terrible self control with word count limits. So I guess we’ll see what the next chapters bring, but they may be shorter!

Enjoy me 2am fugue state musings, there are likely typos~

It was all worth it. The decades of patience and silent suffering. The centuries of loneliness paying off just as you lost hope of ever leaving The Court of Nightmares. You and your father, Kier, expected a typical visit from the Inner Circle. The High Lord would threaten your father to keep him in line, you’d go unnoticed in the back of the throne room monitoring the interaction. Just like every other time they visited.

Except, the High Lord and his Inner Circle asked about you like you were the reason behind their visit. You had clocked the visit as odd as soon as only Rhysand, Feyre, and Mor arrived. The absence of both The General & Shadowsinger at the same time a rarity. Despite being related to Rhysand and Mor, you didn’t think they knew your name, so when they asked Kier about you, by name, your heart damn near fell out of your ass.

They wanted you to leave Hewn City to work with them. A Courtier of the Night Court, working alongside Nesta, Lady Death herself, of all people. They wanted you to start immediately now that the war with Hybern was over. Relations between Courts were strained, and upon learning of your talent, the High Lord deemed it a waste for you to be hidden away down here. He and the Inner Circle believed you did not belong in The Court of Nightmares. To anyone else, having the High Lord speak so highly of your child would have been an honor.

It was the most furious you’d ever seen Kier. Which was saying something. His emotions grew volatile in a blink of an eye, outraged by the absolute gall of the High Lord. How dare he come to his city and tell him that you weren’t meeting your full potential down here? At some point Kier stood up, snarling at Rhysand and the others like a wild animal. Kier, so lost in his anger, let his mental shields falter. Just for a second, but it was more than enough time for your powers to draw his wayward thoughts to you, like a magnet, his unspoken intentions seeped into your own mind. You were always terrible at blocking him out when he got like that.

Power. Kier's thoughts whispered to you. A spy for him in the Inner Circle. It disgusted you how predictable your father was, his intentions were always about how he could best use you for his own gain. It was the driving force behind your excessive training habits, desperate to protect yourself from the toxicity of his intentions. The more you failed at keeping him out, the more you hated him, and by default hated yourself.

Rhysand was right, you were wasted down here, and it wasn’t that your father didn’t see that, he didn’t care. He wasn’t furious with the High Lord for taking another daughter away from him, he was mad about losing a tool.

Well, your father could rot down here alone for all you cared.

You felt a lot of things in that moment. Intimidated by the prospect of working with Nesta, unsure of Mor’s morals and the rumors surrounding her, apprehensive of Rhysand and Feyre’s power, and not to mention all the unknown dynamics between the rest of the Inner Circle. But, despite all that uncertainty, you did not feel nervous about leaving Hewn City with them.

The first task Kier ever appointed you was to report on Rhysand and his Inner Circle’s intentions every time they visited. Either they all had flawless control over their mental shields, or their icy behavior was an act from the beginning. You never dared to share your suspicions with Kier, your father only wanted ammo for his hate, and he never took kindly to evidence that didn’t support his biases against High Lord Rhysand.

It felt a little too much like blind faith and a hunch for you to be 100% comfortable with the decision, but you decided to put your trust in these strangers anyway.

You would take the job.

Not to be a spy for Kier.

Not out of some duty to your High Lord or older sister.

It was time to live your life for you. Consequences be damned.

But, the focus of this story was not about moving to Velaris with Mor and getting to know the Inner Circle. It wasn’t about how much you rock as a diplomat for the Night Court. It wasn’t about how good it felt the first time sunlight touched your skin upon leaving the underground city. It wasn’t even about how you and Nesta became best friends. However good those stories may be.

However, this story is about Azriel Shadowsinger, and how the mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, fell head over heels for you without you ever picking up on it. Yeah, that’s right, the girl who struggled to control her talent for hearing unspoken intentions never puzzled the pieces together. For literal years everyone else in the godforsaken room could tell the Spymaster was in love with you, except for you.

It all started with an argument with Rhysand a few assignments into your career as the Night Court Courtier. You felt like you could handle traveling between Courts without needing an escort, especially if you’d be meeting up with Nesta at the destination anyway. Rhysand did not agree, basically threatening to ground you if you didn’t allow someone to accompany you.

That was how Azriel had become your full-time travel partner. Rhysand appointed Azriel as an additional escort in case Nesta was pulled away.

You’d take this to your grave before ever admitting it, but Rhysand wasn’t wrong to be worried. There had been a good number of times where just that had happened. Nesta would be working the other side of the room, and having Azriel lingering nearby eased your nerves. Prythian was a vast Realm, and Rhys had been right in worrying about your adjustment.

It didn’t take too long for you to adapt once you had visited all the different Courts a few times. Yet, Azriel continued to go out of his way to accompany you to events. The first obvious sign of his affections for you came a couple years into your career.

The event was in a small Day Court town on the border of the Night Court, just under a day’s travel from Velaris on foot. Home to one of the libraries hit hardest by Amarantha’s looting, the entire town was celebrating the return of a sizable chunk of the stolen volumes. The gala was advertised to be a quaint dinner and cocktail hour. You suspected that scholars and book enthusiasts would be the bulk of those present. Although interested in going, Rhysand had High Lord duties to attend to that involved Nesta and the other Archeron sisters in the Summer Court. With a promise to fill everyone in on anything of interest, you packed a small overnight bag and waited for Mor to arrive home. You never developed the ability to winnow, so you needed someone to bring you.

Fussing with your hair in one of the numerous mirrors decorating Mor’s walls, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. Your time in Velaris, just over two years, had already begun to sooth a deep sadness you hadn’t realized had settled under your skin. It was obvious in the gentle way you gazed at your reflection, the healthy flush of your cheeks, and the warmth of your thoughts. Velaris looked good on you, and as you smoothed a hand down the shimmery sapphire blue fabric of the dress that clung to your curves, you thought the new formalwear looked good on you too.

Giddiness bubbled up in you at the idea of modeling the new dress for Mor. The excitement felt foreign still, after spending centuries believing Mor didn’t care to know her own little sister. You never thought you’d ever get the chance to gush over dresses with her. Kier hated everything Mor represented, and was cruel to her in ways that made you feel lucky in a perverse way. Your father may have manipulated and alienated you, filling your head with lies about your older sister, but it was never public. Kier made sure everyone in the Court of Nightmares knew that Mor was a useless whore and a traitor.

When Mor became a core member of the Inner Circle, and Rhysand put her in charge of Hewn City, you would wait for her to acknowledge you during her visits. Decades turned into a century, but the same hope would always rise up when Mor was due for a visit, only to be crushed when she ignored you. She never paid you a second of her time, just a fleeting look in passing as if you were another spectator. Knowing that she wasn’t ignoring you out of ill intent stung more, because you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her.

Kier may be your father, but that didn’t mean you had to be a fan of his intentions. You never believe the rumors he spread about Mor.

And then, the big reveal came. It turned out that to Mor, you were just another spectator. Mor didn’t know she had a younger sister at all. Keir hid you so well that no one realized you were related to him. A detail that made you feel so small when it came to light. You were just the shy woman in the background, taught to be pleasant when spoken to, a pretty little wallflower the rest of the time.

Later, when you asked about who first realized your identity, you got mixed accounts from the Inner Circle. Rhysand insisted that it was he who put the pieces together first. Stating that it came to him suddenly after Azriel submitted a report from a surveillance mission detailing an overheard conversation between you and Kier about your talents. Rhysand claimed that your powers reminded him of a variation of Mor’s. The rest of the Inner Circle credited Feyre for noting the resemblance between you, Kier, and The Morrigan the first time she noticed you loitering at the back of a council meeting.

When the truth was confirmed, and you agreed to go with them, Mor wept. She vowed to never leave you alone in The Court of Nightmares ever again, even for a second. That promise was your first experience with making a deal in the Night Court. Your clear surprise at the intricate tattoo that branded itself over the center of your sternum clued Mor, Rhysand, and Feyre in on how out of touch you were with common lore from your own Court. Mor wasted no time in winnowing you out of there after that. The both of you had heard enough of Keir’s nasty sneers and low-blow comments to last a lifetime.

Now, Mor’s cozy little home was also your cozy little home, if not a bit tight for two people. If someone asked you a decade ago if you thought you’d ever have a relationship with Mor you would advise them to seek out a healer.

And yet there you were, vibrating with things to tell her, anticipating her arrival with an almost goofy grin when…Azriel of all people winnowed into the living room.

Perplexed, but not totally disappointed, “Oh!” you said, clearly taken aback. “I was expecting Mor.”

Azriel huffed a low chuckle, dimples bracketing his amused half-smile. “Sorry to disappoint.”

You looked him over, dark circles under his eyes, droopy eyelids, posture leaning forward in a slight slouch. “Az, didn’t you just return from a long mission? Why aren’t you resting?”

“Wanted to escort you to the Day Court Library Gala, of course.”

The tenderness in his voice had warmth bubbling up from your chest. “That is very kind,” you started, making sure to meet his gaze so he knew you meant it, “but you look so tired, Az. I’ve visited the Day Court a bunch of times now and only need someone to winnow me there. As much as I enjoy having you accompany me to these things, I don’t want you to stretch yourself thin on my account. I’ve got this.”

“I know you’ve got this,” came his immediate reply, “as you’ve pointed out I’ve been gone for a few weeks. What if I offered to escort you because I missed you, hm?”

Despite yourself you felt a flush of heat in your cheeks at his teasing. You refused to use your powers on anyone in the inner circle, unwilling to violate their privacy without explicit consent. But you didn’t need your powers to read Azriel’s sincerity. It made it hard to meet his gaze, you turned back to running your fingers through your hair in the mirror, taking a moment to compose yourself. “Well alright then, I don’t think I can do anything more to tame my hair, we should be off then.”

You felt Azriel at your back, a gloved hand coming up to gently grasp your elbow, guiding your arm down as his hand trailed down the bare skin of your forearm to hold yours, turning you to face him. “Stop fussing, you look stunning, this dress is new, right? I think the color suits you.”

You smiled. “Thank you, I suppose you would like this color, now that I’m thinking about it,” with your free hand you held up the skirt of the floor length dress to the siphon on his wrist, marveling at the color match, “it looks like I did it on purpose.”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he pulled you closer into an almost embrace. “We should go now. Wouldn’t want to miss the opening speeches.”

You suppressed a shudder. Definitely from the way his breath tickled your ear, and not from the way his voice sounded as he tucked you into his chest. “You hate opening speeches.” You pointed out, remembering all the times he complained about how boring they were.

“I do, but you like them.” You’d never said as much aloud, but you did enjoy listening to people talk about things they were passionate about, and opening speeches tended to be just that. Of course the Spymaster had noticed.

If Azriel saw your smile before you hid your face against his leather-clad pec he didn’t let on. You pulled your hands free and looped your arms around his middle, clasping your fingers together under the base of his wings.

“I’m ready then, thank you for coming with me.” Your voice was muffled, unwilling to tilt your head up to talk to him in case your maddening blush was there. It didn’t seem to matter how many times you winnowed with Az, your whole face would go cherry red. Something Cassian never failed to poke fun at whenever he witnessed it.

Azriel wrapped his arms tightly around you, your body now flush to his. You focused on the sound of his wings rustling as he tucked them in closer. Anything to distract from the way your pulse spiked when you felt his lips brush against the crown of your head, his hold on you gentle, yet firm and protective as darkness folded around the both of you.

XxXx

Neither you nor Azriel realized the issue with your room reservation until much too late. Upon arrival in The Day Court the both of you hurried to the event. The gala wrapped up around midnight, and like most of the other guests staying in town, you and Azriel retired back to the nearby Inn. With your strappy heels in hand and a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, you felt positively bubbly. Paused in front of your room, you let Azriel rummage through the small black purse at your side for the key. After almost leading them into the wrong room, Azriel took it upon himself to find the correct room and unlock the door.

Minutes later you were still trying to suppress a smile at how Azriel reacted with such mortification when he realized you’d led them to the wrong room. The mental image of the great Shadowsinger so frantic in his efforts to stop you from further jostling the doorknob, had you letting out a laugh before you could stop it.

“It’s not funny.” He grumbled as he swung the wooden door to your room open, leading you inside. You were on the verge of poking fun at him some more when you caught a glimpse of the interior layout. Right, you had RSVP’d expecting to attend the gala alone. The realization sobered you up real fast.

The room was small, burgundy curtains concealing a sizable window, antique desk with tourist flyers stacked in a neat pile on top. A queen sized, four post bed situated in the middle of the room.

“I’ll take the floor—” Azriel started saying.

But you interrupted him. “—you should have the bed.”

“Absolutely not, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady sleep on the floor while I hogged the whole bed.” He nodded, as if the conversation was over, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at him.

“There’s not even enough space on the floor for you to stretch out Az. The room is basically only bed. It’s fine, I can use my extra clothes—”

You inhaled sharply, tensing at the thought of your overnight bag, left forgotten back at Mor's apartment. Your eyes darted to Azriel, meeting his gaze out of the corner of your eye, and you knew you didn’t need to say anything about it as he scoffed under his breath.

“You forgot your bag.” He observed.

Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair, your tight dress feeling like it was constricting around your chest as you contemplated sleeping in it. “I did indeed forget my bag.”

“We could just go back, we don’t have to stay here for the night.” Azriel pointed out, but the thought of cutting the trip short caused a ripple of disappointment to drop in your stomach.

“Or,” he continued with a hint of amusement, “I have an undershirt beneath my leathers. I changed before I met you at Mor’s, so it’s relatively clean. I was going to sleep in it tonight, but I would sacrifice my shirt for you if it meant you’d stop frowning like that.”

If you thought you were anxious before, Azriel’s suggestion sent your anxiety through the roof. You had always found Azriel attractive, even when you were still living in Hewn City. Who wouldn’t? That attraction grew into a bit of a crush when you first arrived in Velaris. He treated you with such care as you adjusted to living above ground, quiet, patient, and thoughtful.

Once it was apparent that you would be working closely with him you shut that shit down. You and him had spent a lot of time traveling together the last few years, always with separate sleeping arrangements, and never sharing clothing. You went out of your way to respect his privacy, give him space, all in hopes of being someone he one day could trust, like how you trusted him.

You could handle one night, sharing a bed, borrowing his shirt. That wouldn’t totally backfire on you in any way, right? Nodding to yourself once, you tried for an air of confidence as you talked around the nerves that have bloomed in your chest.

“Okay,” you agreed, “but if I change into your shirt you definitely can’t take the floor. I won’t let you sleep shirtless on the ground while I’m all tucked in and cozy in bed. I’ll only take up a sliver of it by myself anyway.”

He opened his mouth to object, his intentions written in the way his brow furrowed at you. But you barreled on anyway, “So, we share the bed tonight. Are you comfortable with that?”

His mouth snapped shut, eyes studying you for a tense moment as if you may be tricking him. You clasped your hands together in front of you, the longer you waited for him to respond the clammier your palms felt. Each second felt like an eternity and in no time at all you found yourself scrambling for a way to play off your idea as a joke.

Of course he wouldn’t want to share a bed with you. What in the world had you been thinking?

Maybe you could blame it on that deliciously fizzy drink you downed before leaving the gala, say you weren’t in your right mind. Pretend to not remember in the morning, as if this wasn’t going to be a moment you cringe about decades later. Would you be able to just laugh it off? Would Azriel be chill enough to let you live this down? You were probably so screwed.

He was still a little tense, but just before your panic truly took root Azriel began to nod his head like he...agreed with you?

“Yes, I think that is the most logical solution. The bed can definitely fit two.” Azriel finally said, and you tried to keep yourself from gaping at his response. But your surprise must have been all over your face because he went on to say, “I didn’t suggest it myself because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Wiping your hands down the front of your dress did little to help with the sweat. The pit that had been taking form in your stomach churned, your dread morphing into jittery nerves.

Then, as if you weren’t having a nervous breakdown right in front of him, the handsome lunatic started striping his leathers off. Dept hands tossing his gloves to the desk, he unclasped the chest pieces of his leathers, they fell to the floor with a thud. Then, the promised black undershirt was up over his head, and you were drinking in all his tattoos and corded muscles like you were a tactless teenager instead of a 300+ year old female.

A flash of movement from him, and you flinched when his shirt hit you square in the face. It was so big it draped over your head. You made a disgruntled noise, ignoring how delicious the shirt smelled as you removed it from your face, “Hey—!”

“If you’re done gawking at me like you’ve never seen a shirtless male, you can get ready for bed first.” He headed further into the room, collecting his chest piece off the floor and approaching the desk to place it with his gloves. He turned to face you, his butt propped against the desk as he gestured to the door his wingspan had been blocking from view. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, flexing his biceps, and you almost swooned at the sight. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Your fist tightened around the shirt, fighting the urge to toss it back at him out of spite. Embarrassment felt like hot iron under your skin, so instead you snapped your attention to the door he had pointed out–the bathroom. You knew you’d averted your gaze much too fast to seem unaffected by him. He chuckled, and you glowered at him as his head tilted to the side, watching you with a bemused expression. He looked about ready to comment further, but you waved him off with faux-annoyance and an exaggerated roll of your eyes. Clutching his shirt close to your chest, you escaped into the bathroom.

Subtle.

Pressing your back to the door, it closed under your weight. You paused there for a moment to focus on your breathing, your frazzled mind going a mile a minute. This was all so far out of your comfort zone, it wasn’t even funny. You never had to deal with handsome males in The Court of Nightmares, Kier didn’t let you socialize long enough for it to even be on your radar. Dating hadn’t quite made your list of top priorities upon arriving in Velaris either.

What little experience you did have was with a male named Allistair. You’d met him at Rita’s within your first year above ground. It was a fling of sorts that lasted a few months before you decided casual dating wasn’t for you. He was a perfectly adequate lover. At least you think he was. He was also your only lover. A nice enough companion as you acclimated to your new life. The times you had been intimate with that male had left you feeling…bereft. Seeing Allistair shirtless had been nothing like seeing Azriel shirtless.

And Azriel calling you out for ogling him so blatantly? Mother have mercy.

So now you were just expected to fall asleep next to him wearing his shirt after that? The situation almost made you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The last thing you wanted was to draw his suspicion by loitering against the door for too much longer, so you moved to the sink. Maybe splashing lukewarm water on your face would reveal that this had all been a weird ass nightmare.

Cupping water into your face a couple more times, you took in the smeared makeup dripping down your face in the mirror. Definitely not a dream.

Azriel was going to think you were in love with him for fucksake.

Snatching the nearby hand towel from the rack on the wall you soaked it, and got to work on scrubbing your face clean. You had to have a little more faith in Azriel. He wouldn’t let a single weird moment ruin over two years of amicable teamwork. But your personal relationship with him felt fragile to you at best. You can't let some tattoos and abs mess up what you considered to be the most solid friendship you’d made among the Inner Circle.

So what if he was hot as hell? You could co-exist with attractive people, it was legit a part of your job. You could salvage the situation, just change out of the dress you accidentally matched to the colors of his siphons, put his shirt on that smelled so strongly of him it gave you a headrush, and face him like you hadn't just been drooling over him.

You know, simple.

The hem of his t-shirt landed just above your knees, and the comfort you found in it was criminal. The black fabric was very soft and so baggy that you worried the wing slits in the back would shift forward in your sleep. It could reveal a little more than what you’d considered 'tasteful side boob'.

Resisting the urge to fuss in the mirror (because it wasn't like you were trying to look cute for anyone, right?), you exited the bathroom clean faced and a bit more settled than when you had entered.

Your bravado, however, was short lived. Azriel faced away from you in only his underwear, the rest of his leathers added to the pile on the desk. He was organizing his various knives on the bedside table closest to the main door.

He looked over his shoulder at you. Totally not catching you checking out his butt in the tight underpants. Cauldron boil you. Would it be weird if you marched yourself back into the bathroom to try the whole “not affected by sexy, almost nude Illyrian warrior” thing again?

Azriel inhaled sharply, and you snuck a glance at him. His attention was back on his knives, but there was a tension to him, almost like he was brooding. There might have been a light blush over his cheeks, but you felt weird analyzing him anymore than you already had out of habit. You clocked the change in his body language for what it was the instant he saw you in his shirt. Clenched jaw, tense shoulders, spine ramrod straight, wide eyed before averting his gaze, elevated heart rate–classic signs of attraction. Reactions he clearly didn’t want you to notice.

"I'm taking this side." He informed almost absently, patting the mattress. Leaving you with the window side.

You wandered to the desk to avoid observing him further, wishing that you could turn off the part of you that always seemed to be prying for more information. And then you felt it, his thoughts getting louder, his emotions growing wilder, reaching out to you. You slammed your mental shields up hard, a gross feeling taking root when it was too late.

Protect. Azriel’s intentions conveyed to you. Protect. Comfort. Provide. Here you were invading his private thoughts without his knowledge, while he was concerned with your wellbeing. What was the point of all that effort Rhysand put into teaching you how to better control your mental shields? It never worked when you needed it most. The failure stung, and you had to busy yourself with folding your dress in a neat square so you had something to keep your hands from shaking.

It was quiet for too long, and you struggled with recalling what he had said to you before you’d lost control. Something about the bed. "Sounds good to me." You decide on saying, placing your dress next to his leathers.

Azriel didn’t seem to find your reply out of the ordinary. Small mercies.

"I'll be out in a few minutes, then." His voice was rougher than before, and it sent chills down your spine. As soon as you heard the bathroom door click shut you scurried into bed. You couldn’t get under the covers fast enough, pulling the blankets up to your neck with a hefty sigh of relief.

It felt awesome to be laying down after such a long evening on your feet. Too bad you couldn’t enjoy it more, instead drowning under waves of shame. Maybe you’d never get a full handle on your powers. Maybe the Mother was teaching you a lesson in this life? You couldn’t fathom what the moral could be. You wanted more than anything to be able to mind your business.

You wished you could turn your brain off. Alas, even your guilt couldn’t stop you from reflecting and organizing what you’d just observed. Not only had you heard his intentions, but you also felt them. Unlike the sweet warmth of his thoughts, his gaze had felt like desire and bad decisions.

He didn’t seem like he was actively seeking to bed you. You reasoned that you were also an available female wearing nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties. You could only imagine how all of that must have chafed against his Illyrian instincts. Rhysand had once mentioned that Illyrians were possessive and protective at best, controlling and jealous at their worst.

Surely those possessive instincts were what you were picking up on, then. You were covered in his scent after all. That was the only logical explanation for his reaction, his instincts were telling him to protect you because you were vulnerable and wearing his clothing. Even if it didn’t quite sound right to you, it was the only explanation you were willing to entertain. You were barely friends, there was no way Azriel wanted to court you. The thought sent a fleeting pang of disappointment through you that you refused to examine.

Whatever. There wasn’t anything you could do to make the situation less messy right now. You were exhausted, and stewing on scenarios that would never amount to anything real was unlike you.

Snuggling further into the sheets, you decided it was best to just pretend you hadn’t noticed shit. The damage was done, Azriel wasn’t dumb, he at least knew he had flustered you. You weren’t going to draw any more attention to that tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Everything about this night was a fluke.

Azriel returned from the bathroom, and you kept your focus on fluffing your pillows. Sitting up you tossed an extra pillow onto the floor, and you could feel as soon as his eyes landed on you that some of his…instincts…were still acting up. You pulled the comforter back up to your neck as he got into bed next to you. Turning on your side to face him you were determined to be normal. No more awkward gawking allowed tonight.

He stretched his arms up above his head, his joints popping a million times as he groaned in relief. You couldn't help chuckling at him, the fearsome Shadowsinger of the Night Court, doing something so mundane.

Scooting further onto the bed, Azriel rolled over to meet your gaze, his wings tucked close to his back as he settled. Most of his wingspan spilled over the side of the bed anyway. He surveyed you, eyes lingering along your tired but genuine smile, and you saw the stern tenseness slowly leave his body. "You sure you're comfortable with this?" He asked.

Your smile turned a tad warmer. This male was just so kind, so different from what you knew in Hewn City. "I am, I trust you Azriel." It was the truth. You didn't have friends growing up, and although you may have a long way to go before Azriel truly called you his friend, you considered him a dear (sexy) friend.

Your words seem to settle something in him, and you could have sworn you saw something almost affectionate flash across his face. You blink, and it's gone, but the fuzzy feeling it left in your chest remains.

Like he sensed your mushy thoughts, he ruined the moment. "So I have to ask you something, it’s serious.”

Your brows raised in bemused interest, the scenario with him wishing to court you snapping to the forefront of your mind again. He’d always been very attentive to you, but in a worried protective way. You’d never picked up on any romantic intentions from him before, and he’s not the type to make a decision like that on a whim. The chance was small, but you couldn’t 100% rule out him wanting to ask you out. Could you say no to him? Would you even want to say no? You’d never considered this as an option before!

He held your gaze, as if for dramatic effect and then with the seriousness of a top notch spymaster he asked you, “You have seen a shirtless male before...right?"

Maybe it was a mistake to consider this male kind, he was a menace all along.

You had never rolled your eyes so hard at someone. Unbelievable.

Turning away from him with enough force to toss your hair in his face, you are rewarded with the sound of his indignant grunt.

"Can you turn the light off please?" You snap, unable to rein in your annoyance. Unsettled by how it tasted almost like rejection.

"You didn't answer my question." He goaded, and you fell right for it.

"Yeah, because it's a silly question." You fire back.

He hummed at your response, "Doesn't seem like you think it's a silly question."

You would rather swallow your own tongue than admit to Azriel that you’d seen shirtless males, but he had been the first you’d enjoyed seeing shirtless.

Done with the line of questioning, you blindly flung your arm back, swatting at him. He startled at the contact, and he exhaled a scoff when you didn't stop flopping your arm at him after the first blow.

He caught your wrist, stilling your flailing. "Fine, fine, I'll drop it," He let go of your wrist, “for now.”

You shifted to burrow further into your pillows, totally not dwelling on how his big hand wrapped around your wrist made you feel dainty. The texture of his scars hadn’t made your heart skip a beat either. Nope. Not at all.

"Could you shut the light off please." You asked again with more venom than you intended. It bothered you how easy this male could get under your skin. He wasn’t even trying.

You felt his weight shifting, the bed frame squeaking a bit as he moved. "Anything for you, Princess." He shuffled a little more, and then the light went off, casting the both of you in darkness.

The nickname made you grimace into your pillow. No one had ever called you that before, and you really didn’t want it to catch on.

You felt him return to the position on his side facing you. Some moments passed in loud silence, and although you were the one that let the conversation drop, the residual tension in the room was killing you. There was no way you would be able to fall asleep, and you would bet that Azriel was stewing in the tension too.

"Az?" You whispered. His response was quick like he’d been waiting on edge for you to speak, "Yes?"

"Goodnight." And you found yourself meaning it. You hoped he got some sleep tonight despite the turmoil he had so effortlessly sowed in your stomach with his teasing. The prick.

You could practically hear the mischief in his voice. "Sleep well, princess."

Ugh. Your stomach coiled, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. Very dangerous. It was an inappropriate reaction, and you wrote it off as stress. However as hard as you wished to forget it, you wouldn’t be forgetting how Azriel had made you feel that night anytime soon.

Even your racing thoughts couldn’t stop sleep from finding you, putting you out of your misery.

And if you woke up to the sounds of song birds that morning, your face pressed against Azriel's neck, your body sprawled atop him while he slept on his back, then that was your business. No one would know if you relished being in his arms a few minutes longer than necessary. You wouldn’t confirm nor deny if one of his hands had looped through a wing hole of his borrowed shirt, his fingers resting just under your breast.

And so what if it had been the best sleep you'd gotten since leaving Hewn City. And if Azriel seemed more well rested than usual on your return to the Night Court, you certainly didn't notice that either.

XxXx

Next Chapter

#azriel x reader #acotar #azriel x you #friends to lovers #slow burn #one bed trope #one shot #one shot series #azriel #my writing #kayjaywrites #like bugs in a rug

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readychilledwine · 2 months

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Hi! I love your writing, it always makes me grin. Could I request a platonic Az fic? One where reader is like 10, super cuddly and touch affection starved and Feyre’s ward (kind of like Evangeline is to Lyssandra), and maybe like the kid or sister of one of the children of the blessed that was sent over the wall but feyre found her and took her in even though Tamlin didn’t like it, so when Mor took Feyre, she had to take reader too, and then during that dinner, she gets scared to meet everyone (especially cass sine he seems intimidating) so she runs behind the nearest person, Az and when he doesn’t get upset, she sticks with him through the dinner, wanting to be next to him, hiding behind his wings, asking for cuddles, and playing with his hands. He doesn’t get upset and reader just decides to follow him like a shadow from then in and make him her fave person, like watching when he train, being sad and quiet when he’s gone (until Nuella and Cereadwin bring her sweets), happy when he’s back, and never leaving his side, and even asking him to carry her etc.

Oath

Warnings - platonic soul mates, mentions of Amarantha and UTM, visions

A/N - I'm not saying I am tucking this away for a rainy day, but I'm not not saying that 👀

Azriel Masterlist

You didn't even have to ask or knock. The door opened, and shadows pulled you in. Guiding you to Azriel in the dark as he opened up his blanket and pulled you up to his bed and into his arms. "Nightmares?" He murmured softly into your hair, holding you close. "It's okay, little one. We all have them." You curled into him, basking in the warmth and protection he offered. His wing rested over you, feeling like a blanket weighing down like a tight hug. "Tell me what you saw?"

You started softly. "A robed figure with swans. But this time, it was like.." You paused, wiping tears from your eyes. "It was like I was a swan. You were on the waterline of the lake, yelling for me."

Azriel went stiff, then pulled you closer to him. "No one is going to take you from me. From us. You are ours to look after."

And you had been since you arrived in the Night Court. You had been ripped from the mortal realm with Feyre by Tamlin. Feyre had taken you in, despite arguments from her sisters, when she found you starving in the streets. You became hers, and she yours. She was closest thing you had ever had to a sister, and her regret the moment you were caught following her Under the Moutain was something she struggled to live with to this day.

Amarantha had taken a liking to you, though. You were a tender human girl she enjoyed using as a personal servant. She kept you at her side, almost always glowing with how much you admired the fae, how you were raised to be complicit to them by the Children of the Blessed. You complimented her constantly, adoring her dresses, her hair, her glowing skin. You had no idea she was so evil. So cruel. That was until Feyre's first trial.

It was Rhysand who pulled you into his room one night, sheltering you from the violence going on. He had whispered to you tales of a city covered in starlight and a family. A family that all found each other, chose each other, loved each other. He had worked you into the bargain with Feyre, ensuring he had you for one week every month, ensuring you were away from Tamlin, who, for unknown reasons, hated you.

When you first came to the Night Court, Rhys spent the week with you, teaching you to read and write more gently than he had Feyre, teaching you the different courts, the different high lords. He had put you in dresses that made his eyes sparkle but grow distant with longing. He had called you his little second chance, and on that second visit, you were sold. You loved Rhysand so fully that you had clinged to him, crying as Tamlin ripped you from his arms.

When Tamlin locked you and Feyre in the manor, it had been the scariest moment of your life. You were still mortal, but the power radiating from her, consuming her as she pulled you into her chest for comfort, was terrifying. She had told you the Night Court would be your home now once she had calmed down, and the decision was made to have dinner with Rhysand's family. Mor had taken you, winnowing you two in and letting you enjoy that drop, that rush of free falling. Everything had been fine until you saw Cassian.

Cassian was loud, he was huge, he had muscles in places you hardly knew could have muscles. You had ended up hiding, much to Cassian's amusement, behind the closest thing you could. Azriel.

And it had begun after that. Azriel became your best friend. You constantly looked for him, snuggled him, loved him. He became your everything and you his. You made him carry you everywhere, take you flying, and made him laugh with you under blanket forts.

On your 9th birthday, he had taken you into town, spoiling you before the war with Hybern begun with pastries, books, new dresses, and a stuffed animal. It was the same day Velaris was attacked. You had been taken from him, locked into a cell with Nesta, who held you close, whispering how it would be okay. You were forced into that same Cauldron as Feyre screamed, held back by Rhysand as the male pleaded for the King to let you go.

Azriel had promised you from that day forward you were his, swearing it to you in an oath that you two sealed with a pinky promise. He promised to protect you. To keep you safe. To make sure anyone who harmed you would regret it. But even Azriel, as powerful as he was, could not save you from the aftermath of the Cauldron.

1 week after your 10th birthday, weird things started happening to you. You had dreams where you saw things. Similar to Elain. Her visions came out in riddles, though. Yours were different. Odd to Rhys and Amren. Odd to Helion. Your powers were similar to a seer, yet so different.

Helion had described it as you walking through timelines. You could see all outcomes with no direction of how that outcome would come to be, whereas Elain saw one possible future and potential riddles guiding to it. "A burden," he had said to Rhysand quietly. "A burden to know each way someone you loved could die, to know what happens if one pawn doesn't move exactly according to plan, but not be able to tell them how exactly it happened."

You had fallen into yourself more, seeking only Azriel with Feyre's pregnancy and Nesta's spiral. You only told him what you saw in your dreams and occasionally the twins if he would send them to you with treats.

He pulled you close again, shaking you from the past. "What else did you see?"

"Elain," you whispered softly. "Lucien holding Elain tightly while she laid on the ground. She no longer glowed with the light of the fae. It was like the cloaked figure had taken it from her."

The grip on your nightgown grew tight. "What else?" His voice was tense, eyes getting slightly distant, letting you know he was communicating with Rhys that you had seen something.

"Rhys had facial hair." Azriel hummed. Unknown to you that you had just given him an idea of the timeline. It would have had to have been after the birth of babe. Rhys only grew facial hair when he was tired. "Feyre and Nesta weren't there. Just Lucien, Elain, the three of you, and I think me."

"As a swan," he repeated.

"Yes, as a swan. Trapped on his lake."

"Do you know how old you were when this happened?"

You shrugged. "No, but we had a string. It wasn't gold and glittering like Rhys and Feyre's, but red and power seemed to flow through it, not emotions. It felt like I was transferring something to you."

Azriel kissed the top of your head. "You know I need to tell Rhys about this?" You nodded. "And you know he may need you to show him?" You nodded again, but shivered at the thought of Rhysand in your mind. "We should also mention the red string to Amren. She what she can dig up."

"But she's so cranky." Hazel eyes, tired and heavy with sleep, peered down at you. "New Amren is way more mean than old Amren."

"A problem for tomorrow. Go to sleep, y/n. I'll keep your nightmares away."

"I love you, Azzie."

"I love you too, y/n. I won't let you turn into a swan."

You were asleep almost instantly, body back on that lake, and a cloaked figure with a bone like figure stroking your wings.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage

Azriel Taglist:

@elle4404

#acotar #send asks #send anons #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x platonic!reader

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cultpastorkevin · 4 months

Text

Cult Tips for AFTG writers

notes from the resident ex-cult pastor

If you’re in the cult, there is nothing bizarre abt what’s happening and in fact the normal stuff that happens outside of it is what’s bizarre to you. Target? Weird. McDonald’s? Even weirder. I can like guarantee Jean and Kevin never had McDonald’s until they left the Nest.

When you leave, you’re gonna be paranoid as fuck. All the time. Ngl at least for weeks but sometimes for years. Nightmares and insomnia 24/7. Hallucinations too lmao Riko is in every corner of empty rooms and you can hear his voice echo in the confines of the lockers.

I see a lot of Jean wanting to go back to the Nest, but not a lot of Kevin wanting to go back. He definitely struggled, 100%. In fact when he was in the pits of agony from his broken hand, was when he probably wanted to go back the most. Cult is home, cult is safe. Four walls you’ve always known and while it’s a cage at least it’s dependable. They hurt you but by god it always works out and the reward of pushing through this tragic incident is greater than the terror it caused in the first place. It’s a gift, actually. A gift from Riko. He saved Kevin. Cults save you. Cults make you wanna return to them like damn homing pigeons bruh. Give me more shattered hand Kevin screaming at Wymack to let him go back home and having a breakdown when he’s denied fics thanks

Piggybacking off the last one: cults are saviors; you’re nothing without them and they make sure you truly believe that; that everything that is done to you is for you and you’re blessed for it to be happening. You’re lucky even, to be allowed in it. Everything is as it’s supposed to be and order must never be challenged, because it works, and you’re the Edgar Allan Ravens, and this is the most honorable place you could be. All the pain you go through is you earning the right to be saved and to prove your worth every day on court. Only the worthy are honored.

You justify everything that happened and you will start fights and get angry with people who try to correct you and tell you it was wrong what went on.

On the other hand, you blame yourself for everything ever that happened there whether you were at fault or not. Hurting others, hurting yourself, gaslighting the fuck out of yourself over things maybe you could’ve prevented and over things you never could’ve stopped. The guilt is crippling and it eats you alive and haunts you.

There’s a lot of shame too. I see more guilt written than shame but shame is a huge portion of emotions that cult survivors have. Shits embarassing dude like “god how did I end up thinking this wack ass shit was normal” 😐 Shame comes later in the healing process usually, it’s after you have come to terms with shit that’s happened and you understand it. Looking back, you go “Jesus fucking Christ that was a red flag what the hell. Should’ve left then, or then, or then, or then” and then you’re just plain fuckin embarrassed.

Please look up how hive minds and brainwashing are created and work; also Stockholm Syndrome; understanding these would be incredibly helpful tbfh.

Diets are big; everyone eats the same thing; food is used as a reward and a punishment.

Hype hype hype. They whip up a frenzy of one singular emotion and use that to push you into a blind hysteria because you’re more suspectible to their influence when you’re out of your mind.

Drugs. Depends on the cult. But yeah these little bitches can be a huge factor for shit and can help with the brainwashing and hysteria and stockholm. Sometimes you don’t even know you’re being drugged or poisoned until you leave.

OH I ALMOST FORGOT. Dehumanization and then being treated like a person again can be traumatic as fuck yall!! Holy shit! Sometimes it feels worse than being dehumanized!

EDIT AGAIN: you don’t know what mental illness is !! Cults don’t fucking tell you these things lmao. if you show symptoms it’s your fault. Kevin being depressed his mom died was gonna get blamed on him and he was never going to be told grief is normal and it’s okay to be insanely sad. Jean also never got told his anger was correct or his trauma responses to being raped were realistic! They just got blamed for any reactions ever that weren’t neurotypical !! that is all; do with that what you will.

Idk if I think of anything else I’ll write another one but that’s all for now; I haven’t slept much lmao 🫡

#aftg #all for the game #edgar allan ravens #jean moreau #kevin day #riko moriyama #riko was a cult victim too yall #smh keep seeing people forget this #tetsuji moriyama #cult stuff #psycho analysis of aftg #kinda #it’s close enough #castle evermore #aftg fanfic #cultpastorkevin

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marvelsmylife · 13 days

Text

Arranged marriage

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x reader

Plot: Eris (the new high lord of the autumn court) strikes a deal with Rhysand to marry you (Rhysand’s sister-in-law) to solidify an alliance between the two courts.

A/n my first Eris fic ! ! ! I hope you guys like it. Feel free to request him.

When Rhysand asked you if you could do him a huge favor you never imagined the favor involved you getting married to Eris, the new high lord of the autumn court. He told you that he had his eyes on you ever since he met you during your trip, the court of nightmares a few days before the winter solstice.

That was the day Nesta was supposed to seduce Eris, but his attention was only on you while you danced with Azriel. He was so hypnotized by your dancing that he interrupted your dance with Azriel.

Azriel wanted to protest. He saw you as a younger sister and felt compelled to protect you from males like Eris. Unfortunately, Rhysand told him to walk away and let Eris have his dance with you. He knew how important this alliance was for both of the courts, and Rhysand would stop at nothing to achieve it.

By the end of the night, Eris asked for your hand in marriage. Your sisters, along with Mor, Azriel, Cassian, and even Amren protested the possibility of you being married off to Eris. Mor was the most vocal about it, seeing as she had a volatile relationship with the new high lord of the autumn court.

Rhysand ultimately let you decide if you wanted to accept Eris’ marriage proposal, and to the shock of everyone, you accepted the proposal. You knew marrying Eris was a big risk, but you felt compelled to accept, especially after everything Rhysand had done for you and your sisters.

After months of planning, your wedding day finally arrived, and it was a big spectacle.

Since you were marrying a high lord, your wedding was supposed to be over the top. You were the polar opposite and didn’t know what you were doing, so you let Eris’ mother plan the wedding and only showed up for dress fittings.

You honestly didn’t know how, but you managed to get through the entire day without having an anxiety attack. It helped that Eris would rest his hand on your thigh and gently squeeze it to reassure you that everything was going to be ok.

Once the celebration ended, Eris brought you to your shared bedroom in your new home in the autumn court.

That’s when you decided to start undressing yourself in front of Eris. “What are you doing?” Eris stopped you once you began removing your undergarments.

“We have to consummate the marriage,” you replied and tried to remove your undergarments again, but Eris stopped you, “What’s wrong? Don’t you want this?”

Eris’ eyes softened at your words and engulfed you in a hug, “Yes, of course, I do, but not like this. I know you still don’t trust me, and I need you to trust me completely before we do anything physical.”

“I understand,” you started while pulling away from Eris and continued your previous actions, “But we have to, for our courts.”

Eris knew he should stop you, but as soon as you were bare before to him, his self-control disappeared. His primal urge to bed you took over, and before he knew what he was doing, he had you on the bed with him buried inside you.

Soft moans and heavy breathing filled the room as you and Eris became one. “Please don’t stop doing that. It feels so good,” you begged when Eris reached down and started playing with your sensitive clit.

Eris, for his part, was desperately trying not to cum. You felt so good around his cock that he had to think of the most disturbing thoughts to prevent him from cumming.

Unfortunately, he found himself cumming when he felt you gently biting his earlobe and tugging on his hair. “Fuck,” Eris cursed as he came inside you.

That, in turn, triggered your orgasm, and you found yourself digging your nails into Eris’ back as he kept moving inside you, “Oh gods, YES ! ! !” you held onto Eris as you came. A sense of pride washed over Eris as you held onto him and repeated his name.

He typically rolls over and ignores females after they’re finished having sex with them, but with you, it’s different. Eris found himself kissing the top of your head before pulling out and lying beside you. You were getting up to clean yourself off but found yourself being pulled into his embrace, your back to his chest. “You are not allowed to leave this bed, not yet, at least,” Eris whispered as he held you possessively.

After a moment of silence, you decided to speak out, “My family might not trust you, but I do. I know you’re putting up a front like Rhysand did to protect his people. I know deep down you are a kind male who just wants to protect your court. I will stand by your side for as long as you want me.”

That’s all Eris needed to hear before he got on top of you again, “That’s good to know, seeing as I have no intentions of letting you go. You will be the high lady of this court and rule this court for the foreseeable future,” Eris bent down and kissed you again. This time, it was sweet and gentle, unlike the kisses you exchanged while you fucked. He was showing you a side no one has ever seen before, and at that moment, you knew you made the right decision to marry him.

#eris vanserra imagine #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #acotar imagine #acotar x reader

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shadowandlightt · 4 months

Text

Of Nightmares and Memories /two/ Azriel X Reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

Part one Part Three

You dream of the blue of his siphons. The hazel of his eyes. You see him every night, whether you’d like to or not. He seems to invade everyone of your senses, always. Even from miles away. Even if he was dead. But you swore you’d know if he perished when Amerantha took over. You felt as if you would’ve felt his loss deep within your gut.

But there had been no word of Velaris, or the people inside it. Had your brother truly been able to hide it all of these years? He’d been stripped of so much of his power, but did he have enough to keep your beloved city safe?

“He wants you in the dining room for dinner.”

“And if I say no?” You question the red haired fox.

His eyes, one golden and mechanical, narrowed on you, “He’ll drag you down by your hair.”

“I’d like to see him try,” You bark out a laugh, knowing you could shred him in a moment if only you had use of your power.

The faebane they kept you full of made sure you were just a sliver of who you once were. Your skin was dull and lifeless, gone was the wondrous glow of immortality. Because you might as well have been mortal, plain and easy to kill. But you still had the self defense that your brothers taught you. You still had the ability to fight back. You were weak now, yes, but you could still just as easily use one of the butter knives on Tamlin.

“Please,” Lucien begged, “Don’t be difficult. It’s been a hard day.”

“He lost another, then?” I question, head cocking to the side.

“Don’t bring it up or he’s likely to skin you alive,” Lucien warned you.

“Again, I’d like to see him try.”

Lucien’s eyes seem tired as he looks at you. Your fight seemed to dissipate as you looked at him. You knew time was running out, far too fast. Soon enough Amarantha would take control over every Fae, no matter where they lived. Tamlin was the only one keeping her at bay, and his power was almost hers for the taking. Then what would become of you? When her goons came for Tamlin and ransacked the house, surely they’d find you and drag you before her. Then you’d just be a tool to further your brother’s pain.

“Ah, I can see it now,” He sighed, “You’ve realized your fate, if this doesn’t work.”

“He’ll never convince a human to love him,” You shake your head, “No matter how charming he can be.”

“For your sake, you best hope he does.”

You follow him from your room, or your cell, whatever seems to fit one day to the next. The manor house is quiet as you make your way through it, servants not sparing you a second glance. They all knew you were being held prisoner, yet they could do little to change it, without incurring the High Lord’s wrath.

For once in your life, you were helpless, and had been since that day in the clearing.

“It would’ve been so much easier for him,” You mutter, “Had he just let them kill me that day. Instead he had them spare me and now I stay a constant headache.”

“More like a constant thorn in his side,” Lucien smiled slightly.

The thought brought a sly smile to my face. You prepared your stone mask as you grew closer to the dining room. Lucien was the only one you allowed to see a sliver of who you were. You allowed him to see more of yourself than you should, because he saw someone who was a little more delicate, a little more capable of love and sadness. Not the stone exterior of the Night Court that we worked so hard to maintain.

“Play nice with him tonight,” Was Lucien’s last warning before we reached the golden doors.

You schooled your face into a bored mask, as if all of this was beneath you. For centuries you’d been playing this part. Without so much as a break from it. Only when you were sure you were alone in my rooms did you let the mask fall. Only then did you cry out for my family, for my home.

“Glad you decided to join us,” Tamlin’s voice carried from the end of the table.

Your eyes roll, “As if I had a choice.”

A snarl escapes from Tamlin, claws slowly growing. You smile sweetly at him for a moment, before throwing out what little power you had left to reach into his head. Just enough to let him know you were there, just enough to be a pest when you wanted. But it wasn’t without difficulty. Sweat beaded on your forehead as you strained against the confines of your power.

“Enough,” He yelled, slamming his hands down against the table.

You flinch back, seeing the beast start to emerge. For a moment you allowed yourself to feel the slight fear that crept in. You were weak now, unable to protect yourself as you used to. He’d taken your power, your freedom, and your strength away from you. Stripped it away as if it were nothing. He should have just killed you in the forest that day.

“Where is the little human?” You question, sniffing the air, “Her…stench is hard to miss.”

“She’s getting cleaned up,” Lucien spoke up, “Might be best if you eat before Alis is finished with her.”

I turn slowly to glare at him, before turning back to Tamlin, “Still keeping me as your dirty little secret then?”

“She doesn’t need to know about you.”

“You know, I hope you can charm this one,” You snarl, “Because time is running out. Soon enough we’ll all be-”

“Enough!” He roars, “I know how much time we have left. I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

“Oh, you still have the chance, but the second he finds out I’m still alive,” You can’t help but laugh as you shake your head, “Well… then you’ll really wish you allowed them to kill me.”

“If she finds out you're alive…” Lucien trailed off with a look from Tamlin.

I flop down into a chair and scoop up a glass of wine, “Well, this is going to be a fun couple of months, then, won’t it?”

“Behave,” Lucien snaps.

“I am behaving,” I reply sweetly.

“Eat, before I lock you up and forget about you.”

“Now now,” I sigh, “It’s been centuries, surely we can be a little more civil than that,”

“You’re too much like your brother,” Tamlin sighs, leaning back into his chair.

“You almost sound sad about that,” You note, “Regretting crossing him?”

“No.”

You hum and drink your wine before tucking into the food before you. Despite knowing there was faebane in it, you couldn’t stop eating. You hardly ate anymore. Just enough to keep you alive, but today you were starving.

“Slow down before you make yourself sick,” Lucien said slowly.

You growl at him before slowly down slightly. If only your brother could see you now. See what you’d become. If only Az and Cas could see you, what would they think? Or Mor or Amren. You weren’t sure what they would say if they could see you now. How different you’d become.

Time passed slowly. The weeks dragged on, as you were only allowed out of your room when Feyre, the human, wasn’t around. Tamlin was doing well with dancing around your existence. Firenight was quickly approaching, and you felt the excitement deep in your bones. If there was one night that you would beg to be released it was Calanmai.

“You know you can’t.”

“Please Lucien,” You all but beg, “He’ll be there, I know it.”

“Which is why you can’t leave the manor,” He explains.”

“I just want to see him for myself,” You whine, “I need to see him, just once before the fifty years is up. Just once.”

“He’ll know.”

“Tamlin will be too caught up in the rite to notice,” I remind him, “And you can manage a convincing glamor.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Just this once,” You say softly, “I wouldn’t ask if time wasn’t running out.”

“I know.”

“Just, please.”

“You stay next to me the whole time,” He explains, “Running off could get you killed.”

“I know.”

“Thirty minutes, that’s all you’ll get.”

“It’s more than I thought I’d get.”

Your heart hammered in your chest with the prospect of seeing your brother again after centuries of being apart from him. You knew you wouldn’t be able to tell him who you were, you wouldn’t be able to leave with him. Or speak with him. But you’d be able to lay eyes on him, and know that in whatever capacity, he was okay. He was alive, even if he was a slave to the bitch under the mountain. He’s still alive. And that’s all you could ask. Even if the rest of your family was dead, at least he lived on.

#acomaf #acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel spymaster

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harrystylesfan2686 · 2 months

Text

Jealous

Pairing: Rhysand x Reader

Summary:Rhsyand reacts to you giving Helion the attention he wants.

A/N: hehe First ask! I hope you like this!! @dragon-grisha-fae

Dialogue prompts Masterlist

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You were at the High Lords meeting with Rhysand. As a part of the Inner Circle, you are to be there and with the coldest persona as a mask of Night Court. Everyone else puts it on, not letting anyone see their actual personality, but not you. No. You are all happy and talking with everyone, still rude to the people who deserve it, but overall, no.

You feel Rhysand's glare at the back of your head while talking with Helion and ignore it. It's the ending of the meeting, several people have already left but you just couldn't leave without talking to Helion first. He is your actual High Lord after all. You having come from Day Court at his command as his emmesary to Nigh Court 'to straighten the bond between the two courts' as he said.

You were angry him at first, almost throwing a tantrum but refrained for for you dignity. You heard all about the cruelties of Night Court and were scared to go there, not that you would ever admit. You had especially requested to saty at Valaris if you had to, and rejected all the options that included going to the Court of Nightmares, which irritated Rhysand.

When you realized that you rather enjoyed the irritated and unhinged look on Rhysand, you made it your life mission to anger the hel out of him. It's not like he could throw you out, you were a important person.

So now, you go against every order he gives. Doesn't matter if he's your high lord, you'll still disobey him. It's how it's always been between the two of you. You never listen to anything he says and he keeps trying to get you to.

Helion and you laugh loudly at his joke, which gains you looks from the other people surrounding the room. You hear someone clear a throat behind you and turn to look at Rhysand who has a weird expression on his face."As sadden as I am to intrupt you two catching up, I'm afraid we have to go."

"Already, Rhysand?" Helion raises an eyebrow at the two of you and you sigh. Rhysand nods and you stay silent, glaring at him as he and Helion exchange goodbyes.

"Alright, then. Goodbye Y/N." Helion turns to you and you instanty beam at him with the brightest smile as he kisses your cheek. You then follow Rhysand to the rest of your group. You eye him from the conner of your eye because he's glaring ahead at nothing.

You try to think back of any moment that would've happened durning the meeting that upset him but can't think of anything. When you are all back at Velaris, in Rhysand's office, discussing notes of the conversations. You try to add something to the current topic and Rhysand scoffs, saying, "I didn't know you were paying attention while giggling with Helion all day."

You are caught off guard and can't do anything but stare at him in confusion for a second but gather yourself quickly and respond with a smirk, "Why? Are you jealous?"

He scoffs but thankfully stays silent for the rest of the evening. When the inner circle meeting is over and every body leaves except for you and him. You are sorting through some papers when you accidentally knock down the pen stand to the floor.

You sigh and bend to clean the mess you made at the same time you hear Rhysand say under his breath, "For gods' sake, can't you do anything properly." You freeze and wonder if he actually said it. You stand and turn to him,"What's gotten into you?" He doesn't even look at you as he says,"Whatever do you mean."

"You have been scoffing and huffing over day when I haven't even done anything to you." Your brows furrow in anger. He rolls his eyes.

"Rhysand!" You yell when he doesn't say anything.

"What?!" He finally looks at you.

"What is your problem?"

You watch him clench his jaw so hard, you think he'll break. After a minute of you keeping your eyes on one another in anger, he closes his eyes in annoyance and finally says,"You- smiled at him."

You blink.

He sighs again and stands up, taking a step toward you, he says in a lot calmer tone. "You smiled at him. You never smile at me." Your eyes widen in realisation.

"No way. You are actually jealous." You can't control the laugh that comes out of your mouth.

"I am not." His brows furrow in annoyance.

"You know I never thought I'd see the day, when you, the High Lord of Night Court would be jealous of Helion." You are still laughing. Rhysand frowns at you. "Not that I'm saying he isn't attractive, he is. A lot but-"

"Stop it." He snaps.

"Will you admit that you're jealous?" You smirk.

His lips curl up. Both of you breathing heavy, the only thing you can focus on right now is how close the two of you are to one another. How perfect he looks, flushed with anger and eyes dancing over your face. And then before you know it, Your lips are to his.

You don't know who started it, only that he feels oh so good in your arms as your hands roam over his body as if having their own mind. And before you realize what was going on, you're laying naked in his office, limbs tangled with each other and wondering what you'll do now.

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#acotar #acotar fandom #acotar fanfiction #rhysand x reader #rhys #rhys x reader #rhysand #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhys x you #rhys x y/n

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b0xerdancer-writes · 6 months

Text

It Wasn't Supposed To Happen Like This Part 1

Eris x Rhy's Sister! Reader

Summary: Eris used to be attached at the hip to Rhysand’s younger sister. Now that he has taken over as High Lord of the Autumn Court, his father’s old high table have been pressuring him to take a wife, he comes up with the brilliant lie that hes already courting someone and has been for several years now. Eris asks Rhysand’s little sister, the best way to get away with it and make it believable, to fake court her.

Warnings: Elain and Mor slander (I love Mor but it’s a plot point for later on I promise!), cussing 18+, some nsfw lean but no sex scenes yet.

Trope/Prompt: Fake Dating

Word Count: 7,037

Notes: It's done! Part One is finally done! After being sick and busy with work and other personal life stuff it’s finally done!

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“So, I bet you are wondering why I’ve called a meeting with all of you today.”

The entire inner circle was stuffed into the living room of The House of the Wind as Rhysand spoke up addressing us all. I watched as Azriel and Cassian shared a confused look with each other, while Feyre joined my brother at his side rubbing soothingly. The only member of the inner circle that wasn’t here was Elain. Thankfully, I could go one more meeting without her clinging obsessively to Azriel’s arm and scoffing anytime I tried to talk to the male that was my brother as far as I was concerned.

Pulling myself from my thoughts I turned my attention back to my brother and his mate, as Rhysand cleared his throat. “I know this is sudden, I’ll admit this has even caught me by surprise, but there have been some recent advancements in our alliance with Eris.”

Rhys shifted on his feet like he was uneasy, Feyre took in a breath and began speaking for my brother. “Beron succumbed to his wounds from the war, making Eris the new high lord now. There is to be a meeting with him tonight to discuss a new alliance or to modify the currently existing one.”

I was happy Rhys found her; she was wonderful for him. He was so broken after the Amarantha thing but when he brought her here for the first time the way he seemed to light up gave me hope he would make it through.

Rhys gave her a loving look of thanks before he continued to speak. “Since Eris is now a high lord, we need to have more of a presence there tonight. As for you dear sister, I've had you removed from Court duties long enough people are beginning to question it, now that the war is over, I’m comfortable putting you back into that world.”

Rhys was right. I helped Mor and the boys run everything while he was under the mountain which included attending any meetings under the mountain, but the day he returned he pulled me from active duties, said he didn’t like the mask I had crafted to survive down there. I couldn't blame him for saying that honestly, I had crafted the mask based around the experiences with my father. The Pristine, cold, and calculated princess is what he had crafted me to be; I still used the lessons he taught me day to day. There was part of me that enjoyed the game that came with the mask, playing the part that was asked of me, it was sure to come into play on the board tonight.

There was a small conversation amongst the room before Rhysand dismissed everyone to get ready. As I stood from the comfy black couch and made my way to move past Rhys, he softly placed his hand on my upper arm. He gave me a look that I easily recognized as a mix of worry and nerves, and I felt the soft knock of his talons on my mental shield. I smiled and lowered them as he asked if I was going to be okay going back into the Court of Nightmares. I nodded and assured him I would be okay before moving to take his hand that was on my arm into my hand and squeezing it softly, I quickly slipped up the stairs into my room.

Opening the door to my closet I skimmed through the many dresses that hung there, searching for one that would be fitting. I thought about Eris then, I hadn't seen him except for when we were incredibly young, maybe a few weeks prior to his engagement to Mor. I had gone on a trip with my father to meet with Beron and discuss the engagement, me and Eris had sat in the gardens discussing the different flowers and creatures, from what I remembered he was a good male that kept his guard and mask up much like that of my brother. Something always sat wrong with me about the story Mor told, and even other ones that had been told to me by various members of the inner circle, maybe it was growing up around my brother as he crafted his mask that let me see through such things but with every story, I was told I could always find Eris’s mask. I wondered about how he had grown since that exchange as children.

My mind wandered through a forest of thoughts as I sorted through the many dresses, till one caught my attention. A black thinly strapped V neck dress. The dress was floor-length with a slit on the left side that reached mid-thigh and made of Satin, it had gorgeous dark red almost blood colored lace appliques on it that depicted vines and roses. I plucked the dress from the closet and brought it with me to look in the mirror at it, after deeming it a good fit for the night I draped it across the arm of the chaise lounge and fetched a simple pair of black pumps.

I moved to the bathing room quickly; drawing a bath, I poured a jar of a sweet-smelling oil into the water and hummed a long to a nonexistent song in my head. I stepped into the lightly steaming water and sunk to my chin in the water with a low relaxed sigh. Time went by quickly; I only rose from the bath when the house summoned a towel on the small accent table that held my many oils and bath potions. The towel was warm as I wrapped it around my body and stepped out of the water, the air caused a chill to run up my spine as I stepped into my bed chambers where the curtains fluttered softly in the wind.

I moved to my chest of drawers and pulled out some simple undergarments that would match the dress, slipping them on, I dropped the towel and moved back over to pick up the black dress. I stepped into the straps and turned to look in the mirror so I could do up the fastenings; smiling I turned back around and straightened out the dress on my body. I picked up the black pumps and moved over to my lounge to sit, fastening the small buckle around each of my ankles after slipping them on.

I moved to my vanity, settling on simple hair, makeup, and accent jewelry before I heard the commotion of everyone beginning to gather in the living room. I gave myself one more look in the mirror before slipping out of my bedroom door and down the hallway to join my brothers and their mates. Only a few people had not joined us in the living room when I had taken my seat on the comfortable couch, namely Mor and Azriel, but the male of the two could be heard making his way to us.

After a few minutes the entire inner circle had finally gathered in the living room. Rhys stood tapping his foot impatiently as he cleared his throat. “Alright then, now that everyone is here please remember to try your best to make tonight go as smoothly as possible, this will be like normal except my dear sister will be announced between the rest of you and Feyre and I. There are a few more things I wish to discuss before we leave.”

After Rhys finished his long lecture about behavior and details for the meeting later everyone had stretched and gathered into their winnowing groups, everyone nodding to each other as we all folded the world around us and reappeared in the hall of the Court of Nightmares. I could hear a male inside clear his throat as he began introductions. Starting with Azriel, then Cassian and Nesta, Mor and Amren, then it was silent for a few moments as a low orchestral noise filled the room before me leaking out from under the large stone door.

“Returning from her leave of absence, the sister of our high lord and princess of our court…” The rest of the announcer's words blended into the background as my mask washed over me and the large intricately carved stone doors swung open.

I scanned the heavily decorated ballroom, shooting glares at Kier and any other distasteful males I spotted on my way to the dais. As the crowd cleared the base of the dais one male stood out to me with his hair as bright as his personality I remembered, Eris, He locked eyes with me as he stepped back into the crowd and tilted his wine glass to me with a discreet smile. I nodded back to him as I climbed the short steps up to the thrones, moving to stand to the left of them.

Once my brother and his mate had their own introductions and had taken their seats, Rhys announced the celebration would continue while some of us stepped away to discuss politics. We all split up to do our jobs, I would not be part of negotiations despite having practically run this half of the court for Mor when Rhys was gone. I made my way to mingle on the dancefloor as I caught the slightest hint of Eris’s flaming hair disappearing around a corner towards the meeting room. I huffed scanning the party around me, spotting a servant carrying a tray of wine goblets, taking one from him. I made my way to stand near a finely carved pillar, several males of high standing stopped their conversation and looked over their shoulders at me before murmuring to themselves and finally approaching me.

There are only a few things males like them could want, and none of them were good. Within their first few sentences I lost any and all care for their poor conversational skills. Taking a sip from my wine glass I dismissed them with a wave of my hand and a quick, “Leave me, I have no interest in your schemes for power.”

The males retreated with a dejected look across all of their faces, to be fair I pitied them had they approached me in Velaris without my mask I would’ve listened to their words. As I watched the crowd around me, I was startled by a voice from over my shoulder.

“Ouch, the high princess of the night court, rejecting males before they even finish getting their names out.” The voice laughed after it finished speaking and I rounded on it holding a hand to my chest.

“Lucien fucking Vanserra, you ass you startled me!” I quietly yelled at him, the tone in my voice made him laugh again. I didn’t think he was going to make it tonight.

Lucien had been a close friend since he joined Feyre here, we were both the odd ones out of the inner circle. Lucien at least now had his brother, had the day court, or had the band of outcasts to turn to when it all got so much. All I had was the small hideaway my father had shown me when I was little.

“Surprised to see me, my lady?” He jokingly bowed and extended a hand out to me, pulling my knuckles to his lips after I placed my hand on his own.

“I didn't think you were going to be able to make it tonight, last I heard you were on some secret mission.” I giggled, tipping my cup to clink against his own.

“Just got back a few hours ago, just enough time to change.” He took a sip from the goblet and smiled at me.

“It’s always wonderful to have you around to talk to during events, but shouldn't you get some sort of rest?” I raised an eyebrow at him, and he laughed.

“You chastise me the same way both Eris and my mother do. Like the sister I never had.” He placed his free hand on my shoulder squeezing softly.

Before I could retort back at the younger male, he was taking my now empty cup from my hands as well as his own and placing it on an empty tray a servant had as they walked by. He turned his attention back to me.

“Care to dance? We can at least make this night a little less boring.” He smiled down at me and extended his hand, as soon as my hand touched his he smiled at me and pulled me towards the dance floor.

The rest of the night passed quickly with Lucien as my company, I only realized negotiations had finished when I saw a hand tap Lucien's shoulder.

“Pardon me brother, but it looks like you're having quite a bit of fun, mind if I interrupt for a few dances myself? Give me a bit to catch up with an old friend?” The taller Vanserra had butted in with a smile, negotiations must have gone his way then.

“Oh! Of course, have fun brother.” Lucien stepped back into the crowd with a quick nod passing my hands off to Eris’s. He waited a moment to process where in the song we were before pulling me into a waltz leading us towards the center of the dancefloor.

“How did negotiations go?” I asked him in a hushed tone, “My brother won’t let me in on any of it.”

“It went well,” He chuckled. “Nothing major just asked for continued support if anyone wished to try to usurp me.”

His Amber eyes looked from me to scan the dance hall. “I may have also asked for a favor that involves you.”

Oh, this had to be interesting. “What did Rhys have to say about this favor?” I quirked a brow at him a moment before he spun me and pulled me back against his chest.

“That I needed your say on it, it wasn't up to him.” He leaned down to whisper it in my ear before he spun me back to face him.

“What kind of favor is it then? Don’t leave me hanging, I can’t make my decision without knowing first.” I giggled as we fell back into the simple rhythm of the waltz.

“My advisors and nobles of my court have been pressuring me into beginning to court a female, I may have told them I had my eye on someone already, though that is a lie for me to hide it from them for so long it had to be someone of importance. Someone I’ve known for a very long time. No one better than you to fill in that role.” He sucked in a breath before clearing his throat softly. “We don’t actually have to court, you were just the first female that came to mind when the lie popped in my head we fake it for a bit attend a few dances with the other i gift you some of my belongings and some jewelry to make it look like we have been courting for a few years now, we get into an argument at a dance and break up. Saves me a bit of time to figure everything out and holds them at bay. What do you say?”

I smirked up at him. “Oh, you know I’m always down for a bit of fun like that.” He spun me once more before dipping me. A smirk on his own face.

“Honestly I was counting on you still having that rebellious personality, glad that it hasn't been diluted or taken away over the years.” He smiled, pulling me up from the dip to pull me close to him.

“Well, I’m happy to say that my personality hasn’t changed much in that way, though I fear my brothers may be beginning to regret not stamping it out of me.” I nodded my head towards my brother who now was sitting back on the dais watching me and Eris with a scrutinizing glare.

He chuckled to himself as he lowered his head to rest his chin on my shoulder meeting Rhys’s gaze. “If you are really keen on accepting then we need to go shopping so I can buy you a few things that would seem like courting gifts to the members of my court. After that I’ll arrange for you to come visit Autumn as my guest for a few days before the fall equinox celebration.”

“Sounds like a plan my lord~” I teased, leaning back into his grasp. If we were going to play house soon might as well make the role believable.

He chuckled to himself as the song came to an end and he led me away from the dancefloor, making a display of kissing my knuckles. I smirked to myself and grabbed a wine glass off of a passing tray, taking my place back against the pillar smugly. My eyes drifted across Eris’s frame as he moved back up to discuss whatever it was he needed to with Rhysand.

It didn't take long for the other Vanserra brother to slither back to my side. He took a long gulp from his goblet before he lowered it with a snide smirk. “Soooooo, care to tell me what all that was about? I thought it was just supposed to be some catching up, it didn't look like that to me.”

I shoved his shoulder before taking a sip of my own drink and rolled my eyes. He made a gesture for me to start talking and I made a fake annoyed noise which he snickered at.

“If you must know, you snoopy male, your brother approached me with a proposition.” I took a sip from my goblet which gave him enough time to choke on his own as he started coughing his eyes wide. “Not that kind of proposition Luc, though I suppose in the eyes of the courts it's not far off from that.”

His eyes stayed wide as he nodded eagerly waiting for me to continue. “He asked me to fake court him, so the old males that Beron hired as his confidants would get off his back long enough for him to make some real change in the court.”

Lucien nodded, taking a gulp of his goblet, his eyes darting where Eris stood talking with my brother and then flicked back to me. “I knew you two had history, but it must be more than I originally thought it was if he trusts you this much.”

I smiled softly to myself, nursing another sip. “I'm very thankful he still trusts me the same way he did when we were children.”

Lucien’s eye searched in mine for a moment as he relaxed against the stone pillar behind us. “From what I heard, when you and Eris were younger you two were attached at the hip. What happened there?”

It was going to be a long night. “His engagement to Mor is what happened.” I'll admit that my voice came out more bitter than what would’ve pleased my family.

Lucien raised his brow at me. “Oh? Can I ask about that? If you two were attached at the hip, why weren’t you two engaged instead?”

My brows furrowed as I spotted Mor in the crowd laughing with Nesta. “I wasn’t ever made aware of the real reasons behind it. I know my name was brought up but my father shot it down. It should’ve been me though, why else would our fathers have been so keen to have us introduced to the other and why else would they have been okay with us sneaking off into the woods of the forest house grounds?”

Lucien nodded but didn’t say a word as he took another small sip. “It almost angers me what she did,” I nodded at Mors location, “Cassian doesn't know about any of what happened, none of the inner circle really does. Except for me, because Eris told me everything, one of our final meetings before everything went to shit, he broke down in my arms, told me everything, how terrible he felt that he couldn’t help. I mean it Luc, he told me every little thing that happened. All of them thought I was just being rude or biased with every glare I gave Mor back then.”

I took a sip letting out a sigh. “I was just so angry back then at her, for multiple reasons. For taking my chance out of this court, for taking the hand of the first male I ever really cared for besides my family, for hurting Eris the way she did, for lying about the real story behind it.”

Lucien rested a hand on my shoulder aware I needed to voice my frustrations. “Sorry for bringing it up, if it was such a tender subject I wouldn’t have.”

I shook my head. “No Lucien, don’t apologize. You asked a perfectly fine question, I'm just thankful even after everything that happened he still trusts me to do something this important to him.”

Lucien’s hand on my shoulder rubbed softly trying to offer some variety of comfort. It hadn’t been the whole truth but no one besides me needed to know that. The only other people who knew the truth were dead as far as I was aware: My father and Beron. There had been a long discussion between me and my father the night Eris was engaged to Mor, it was the first time my father had ever apologized to me, it brought us closer together even though it should have driven us apart.

Rhysand was at Windhaven that night, I held it together till I crossed the threshold of the House of Wind. Rhysand would always say our father was a rough, cruel male, but Rhys had never seen the way he would comfort me or care for me. Maybe it was just the fact I was his first daughter and had always favored him since birth but even mother never dared separate us, understood I was a daddy’s girl from the first time he held me in his arms after my birth.

Lucien cleared his throat as he drew my attention back towards the crowd, where Eris had a smug smile on his face and was working his way back towards us grabbing a goblet of his own. I steeled myself with a deep breath. There was one truth I held closer to my heart than any other. I had loved Eris from a young age; if he needed me to do this, as much as it would hurt after all was said and done, then I would do it. The taunting tug in my chest left a bitter taste in my mouth as I pushed it down and forced a smile across my face as Eris slid into place in front of me and Lucien, smirk still plastered across his handsome face.

Eris engaged Lucien in brotherly small talk with a wide grin on his face and I smiled taking a final sip from my goblet. His smile reminded me of the same one that crossed his face all those years ago when we were younger. I don’t know what came over me but I cleared my throat interrupting the two red headed males who both looked at me curiously.

“Do you two want to come to Rita’s tonight? I needed to go shopping with Eris anyways but it would be way more fun if you joined as well Lucien.” The two males nodded murmuring their agreement to the party.

Eris was quick to turn his attention to me, which caught Lucien’s attention with a smirk. He made an underhanded comment to his eldest brother and the two made small bicker back and forth. I smiled softly, happy to see both of the males relatively comfortable despite the cold atmosphere that was the Court of Nightmares.

The rest of the night continued on easily, though when everyone gathered to be winnowed back to Velaris the two red heads either side of me stood out amongst the inner circle. I noticed Azriel’s glare at the elder brother, both still deep into conversation to notice the quiet male’s cold stare. I challenged Azriel’s gaze who shifted on his feet and turned his attention back to Rhys. I would be winnowing the two redheads with me back to the shopping districts of Velaris where Lucien would slip off to his own apartment till it was time for Rita’s.

The second we were dismissed by Rhys I pulled the two redheads close, bending the shadows around us. Eris took a step closer to me, close enough I could feel his chest bump into my arm with every breath he took. As the world folded back into place the sun was just beginning to set below the horizon, Lucien waved and dismissed himself and Eris took a step back from me, his face slightly flushed as he looked around the part of the city I landed us in.

I took a deep breath in letting my mask slip finally and pulled Eris in for a deep hug. He returned the hug and I looked up at him with a soft smile on my face, “Good to have you back.” In my life, in my arms, there were so many ways to finish that thought that crossed my mind but I knew I would never get to voice them the way I wanted.

“Good to be back at your hip.” Eris smiled though it didn’t quite reach his eyes like he wanted to say more or that there was some hidden meaning in his words. He pulled me back into a hug pressing my head into his shoulder. “Where do we start looking for stuff?”

“The Palace of Thread and Jewels would be our best bet for things that would look like courting gifts.” I cleared my throat, rocking on my heels and nodding in the direction of the said location. I took a breath in trying to fight the thoughts in my brain and the tug in my chest. He smelled amazing like cinnamon and firewood, it was intoxicating but I couldn’t lose myself here.

He entwined his hand with mine and began walking in the direction I had pointed him. “I will have to get you a fox kit or a shadow hound pup though I can keep it in my kennels. I'll just have to say it's for you. It's an autumn court tradition though we can worry about that later, it shows the relationship is getting serious which it would be if we had been secretly courting each other since before the second war.”

My heart fluttered thinking back to when we were kids and he promised to gift me one of his hound pups one day. We were maybe 10 at the time and he was showing me around the kennels, he was so proud to finally have his own hound even if it was barely 6 weeks old. He boldly proclaimed he was going to marry me and that he would give me a hound as part of his gifts, little chest puffed out with a smug look on his face. I smiled and giggled under my breath, he shot me a faux offended look to which I elbowed him in the ribs.

“Ow! What was that for?” He rubbed his side and gave me a look that screamed kicked puppy.

“No need to be so offended. I was merely thinking back to that time in the kennels when we were children.” I snickered, pulling him towards the doors of the palace that were nearing.

“Oh mother, save me, you actually remember that?” His face was flushed in embarrassment but it was thrown out the window as he moved to hold the door for me.

“Thank you, and I remember quite a lot of those days in the woods.” I snickered, pulling him into the palace with me.

He laughed with me and his chest collided with my back, hands coming to rest on my hips to steady both of us. I had abruptly stopped as my eyes caught a dress on display on a mannequin in one of the several shop’s windows. I felt my heart flutter and skip a beat at how close his body was, a low taunting voice echoed softly in the back of my head. The voice taunted me how this whole arrangement would never be real and I'd just end up hurting myself, I smothered the voice down into the depths but could still feel the ache of the words.

“What did you stop for?” Eris looked down at me from over my shoulder quizzically with a brow quirked up. His eyes danced from me and followed to where I was looking at the dress.

He smiled brightly, taking my hand and pulling me into the shop and up to a worker. I tuned out the world till his voice called for me. “You like the one in the window right? Love?” his fingers entwined with mine as I nodded.

“Yes” I nodded quickly and watched as the worker stiffened up and went to grab her boss, the maker of the dress. She led us to a private dressing room, handing me a soft robe and pushed me through the curtained off section to change into it. I watched from the corner of my eye as Eris whistled before taking a seat on the low backed padded couch and reclined, looking around the small shop.

A few minutes passed and I heard hushed whispering before someone greeted Eris, he made a small acknowledgement back before there was a knock on my small dressing room. The small fae from the counter poked her head in with a smile and asked if she could step in. With a nod she slid through the curtain the dress from earlier over her shoulder. We must have looked like a sight I realized, still dressed in our fancy outfits from earlier, now shopping for more equally if not fancier outfits.

I smoothed the robe down as nerves prickled at my neck, watching the young fae female hand the dress up on a small hook before she offered to help me change into it. I thanked her and agreed for her help, she began informing me about the dress. She was the apprentice of the older lady that owned the shop, this dress was her first one to go out to the sales floor, that she was honored for the princess of her very own court to be trying it on. With her assistance I shed the robe and stepped into the dress, she pulled it up my body adjusting the fabric minorly and began clasping the dress closed.

She motioned me towards the small mirror in the dressing room, and I could practically see her dripping nerves waiting for my say on the dress. I took in my reflection the dress was primarily black, a-line skirt with a strapless sweetheart neckline, made of tulle and silk; the underskirt was shades of burnt red orange and yellow making it look like it was on fire. I adored it, it was gorgeous. I was walking out with this dress whether Eris agreed or not. I saw her smile in the back as I took it in, she must have been able to read my face; she asked if I wanted to show “the nice male I came in with” the dress, to which I agreed and she held the dressing room curtain out of the way for me to step through the archway.

As I stepped through the curtain my eyes caught on Eris, he was slightly reclined on the small padded couch; one leg crossed at the ankle over the knee of his other leg, one arm over the back of the couch fidgeting with the wooden filigree, and the other was resting in his lap. The way the lighting of the shop hit him painted him like a burning sunrise, my breath caught in my throat as the click of my heels caught his attention. His amber eyes raked over my figure and I watched as his bored expression lit up and he smiled at me, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

I felt my face heat up slightly and tried to will it down as the small female helped me up onto a platform with 3 mirrors surrounding it. Eris uncrossed his legs and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and hands clasped together, watching me closely.

“Give me a spin.” I didn’t even have to see his reflection in the mirror to see his smirk.

I rolled my eyes and turned in the dress till I was facing him and countered his mischievous gaze with “Not that it matters because I’m walking out of here with this dress in a bag either way but what do you think, oh Grand High Lord of Autumn.”

And then he laughed, genuine and with his entire body, his shoulders shook and he had to cover his mouth with his hand to try and stifle his laughter. His eyes watered as he grinned at me, and it aches in my heart for a moment as I tried to think back to the last time I had seen him laugh like this, or even this happy.

“Sorry-I-sorry,” He had to stop himself to burst into laughter again, “Sorry just how you said that, I was going to suggest we get the dress anyways and you can wear it to the Autumn Equinox Festival in a few weeks. You haven’t given me such sass since we were ten.”

“You bring out the sass in me Eris, what can I say except it is entirely your fault.” I laughed with him, a smile on my own face. When Eris was genuinely happy his energy was infectious.

He smirked back at me laughing softly, eyes sparkling with some mix of mischief and glee. He stood and made his way over to the platform, his hands wound in my skirt as he shifted it to and fro with watchful eyes. As the skirt shifted it looked like flames licking at the edge of the black fabric. He smiled and looked over his shoulder at the apprentice who tensed up as if she was about to get criticized.

“Would you be able to make a matching suit for this dress, I wish to have a matching suit to wear with her for the Autumnal equinox festivities in my home court.” The small fae nodded and went to make some comment but Eris cut her off before she could speak.

“I understand you are an apprentice but your craftsmanship on this dress is extraordinary, I’ve never seen someone accomplish such a gorgeous flame effect on a dress before. Have you ever attempted a suit design before?” He moved from me to rest a hand on her shoulder, and her face began to grow a blush on it.

“Yes, but I haven't ever attempted effects like this on suits. My teacher says there's less room for creativity in suits, she doesn't let me experiment much with them sir.” she swallowed and looked down like she was expecting a harsh reaction.

Eris simply smiled and rested both hands on her shoulders which caused her to look up, he was softening his exterior slowly but surely becoming the high lord he really wanted to see in the world, no doubt influenced by his mothers softness. “I'm sure she would understand if it was a commission, or maybe even if you did it as a private commission. I'm sure with your fantastic skills as shown in the dress, you will be able to accomplish a similar effect, yes?”

She nodded quickly and dismissed herself quickly, returning with a measuring tape, quill and pad of paper. She asked me to remain in the dress just off to the side of the platform, and then asked Eris to step into the center. Which he happily did and shed his overcoat tossing it to the padded couch, smoothing out his undershirt before the small fae was wrapping her tape around him and jotting down on the paper here or there. She stepped back quickly asking me and Eris to stand together, and she took a seat on the small couch as she began scratching her pencil and a few small colored ones I hadn’t even noticed, glancing up at me and Eris occasionally here or there. After a few moments she approached Eris with the pad of paper and he took a few steps away from me and held the pad out towards me with both hands.

This fucker. I assumed he was holding it up to envision him standing in the suit beside me, he wanted it to be without a doubt a matching piece that no one could debate about. I realized what he was doing in having us match without a shred of doubt that it was in fact planned. It was something you really only saw to this extreme in married couples at these kinds of events. If we showed up like that it would without a doubt quell anyone’s doubt we were a serious couple deep in the throws of courting.

Eris nodded and smiled, exchanging a few words with the female that I missed due to the sudden blood rushing into my ears that drowned out all other noise. It wasn’t until Eris motioned me back into the dressing room, stepping from the platform to hold the curtain open for me as the small fae scrambled towards the front to grab a garment bag and receipt for Eris. Had he already paid her? I must have missed the exchange of money at some point.

“Come now my dear, we have much to do, I would like to purchase some accent jewelry for us to wear with that outfit. Maybe you'd like a fur wrap for your shoulders in that dress? The air will be chilly once the sun begins to set that night.” He made a show of holding his hand out for me to take.

I rolled my eyes as I stepped down and took his hand as I stepped into the dressing room. I just barely caught a glimmer in his eyes and the smirk across his face in the smaller mirror as he dropped the drapery and pressed himself against my back, one hand still in mine, pressed close to my collar bone and the other of his resting on my hip. I froze as he dropped his head to the side of my neck and made eye contact with me in the mirror.

“Need some help taking it off? Shame I thought it clung to you perfectly.” He kept eye contact as he pressed a kiss to my shoulder and I could barely hear it over the heartbeat in my ears but I still heard it, a small giggle and murmurs of awe and murmurs about ‘how romantic’ from the girl and I can only assume her mentor, or other shoppers I didn’t notice in my awe.

His hands slid from mine and found the clasp on the back of my dress, his eyes dropped from mine as he took a step back and began unclasping each small fastening. I pressed a hand to my chest as the dress began loosening, holding it to me to prevent it from dropping as he finished the clasps. His eyes met mine in the mirror and I would have sworn they were a few shades darker than normal; as he winked and pushed his way through the curtain holding it open just a hair, enough for only him to slip through and he looked back over his shoulder at me.

“Hurry up and change love, there's a few more stores I would like to visit before Rita’s tonight. Don’t worry about the dress, I'll take care of it and have them put it in the bag for you.” he dropped the curtain.

I let out a shaky breath as it fell back into place. I could hear him talking with the small apprentice and her teacher on the other side, but I was distracted by the heat that flooded my face. I let the dress drop to the floor before stepping from it and taking my other one from earlier and fastening it back around me; just as I finished the apprentice knocked softly before sliding in to pick the dress up, moving to place it in the nice soft garment bag she brought with her.

“Pardon me if I’m speaking out of turn when I say this my lady, but you are a very lucky female to have a male like him spring on you like that.” She moved her eyes quickly up at me and then back down to the dress as she fastened the bag closed.

“Yeah…” I nodded softly, “Yeah I am very lucky.”

She smiled softly at me as she stood up with the bag held neatly in her arms. “Hard to find males like him nowadays, best keep him close.”

“I plan on trying.” I smiled at her as she stepped through the curtain again and I took a second to collect myself before I had to face Eris.

“Fuck this is going to be a lot harder than I thought it would be.” I murmured under my shallow breath as that familiar ache and tug settled in my chest again. I'd known this ache since childhood and now it was going to rear its ugly head at every turn. I both dreaded the oncoming storm and wished for it to bring the one thing I had hoped for since I was eight. Since the day at the lake when that golden string had snapped into place for me, but Eris hadn’t batted an eye or acted any different, he had never felt the snap or tug. I could only hope this staged courtship would change that for him, that he would finally feel the bond snap into place.

#acotar #acotar x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris acotar #eris vanserra #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra #inner circle #a court of thorns and roses

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fo1ktale · 3 months

Text

Embers of Redemption

You didn’t know why he suddenly hated you. You had wracked you brain, ransacking memories and dissecting past conversations, but you still couldn’t figure it out. What had you done to garner such vehement disdain?

Your gaze remained fixed on him, he who was deliberately avoiding eye contact, looking everywhere but at you. You took a sip of your wine, before returning to absentmindedly swirling the glass. Across the room, Azriel lounged, seemingly unaffected, yet an undeniable air of tension lingered. It was palpable to you and, undoubtedly, the entire Inner Circle sensed it.

As an archivist, you had to work closely with the leaders of the Night Court. Rhys’ father had been your employer for a long time, and that was how you met Rhys. The two of you were of similar age, and he admired your work ethic. Once Rhys had taken over his father’s rule, you joined the Inner Circle and governed beside them.

They were your family. Mor was the sister you never had, Rhys and Cassian were the annoying older brothers you couldn’t get rid of, and Amren was, well, Armen. Azriel however, he was special. You knew from the start that the Illyrian would change your life forever. He had stolen your heart, and you willingly surrendered it. Yet, his unwavering devotion to Mor couldn't escape your notice. You observed the way he looked at her, the care he extended. While to him, you were merely his best friend, to you, he meant everything.

Best friend— that was what you were. Through every trial, he stood by you, and you became his confidante. He shared his struggles, with his own identity, his relationships, and his stresses. You let him ramble on about Mor for decades, concealing the pain in your heart behind a sorrowful smile. You would have endured this indefinitely in a desperate attempt to know everything— anything about him.

One faithful day, he decided to get over Mor. You went with him, as the ever supportive best friend. You two had drunk your hearts out that night, downing shots after shots. You danced and you sang and you laughed like you never did before.

That night, he left with another woman, and your heart panged as you witnessed it.

His arm was casually slung over her shoulder as they walked out of the club. He whispered something in her ear and she giggled.

Sinking to your knees, without caring about what everyone else thought of you, you sobbed.

Getting over Mor didn’t make him realise that you were the one that stuck by him through everything. It had only gave him the freedom to find other females to fuck.

You had told yourself countless times to get over the unrequited love you felt for him. You went on dates and relished in the beauty of solitude, but it never worked. Everything led back to him.

When Rhys was trapped Under the Mountain, the two of you found solace in each other. There were many nights when insomnia got the better of you, and you would crawl into Azriel’s bed, where his mere presence would lull you to sleep. Other nights, nightmares would keep him awake, and you would hold him until he calmed down. Somedays, when the ache in your hearts felt a little to much to handle, you would go on walks in the forest, or even better, he would take you flying. Seeking comfort in each other became routine.

Maybe it was wishful thinking, but you believed that the bond between you two had evolved into something more than mere friendship. The thought brought joy, a glimmer of hope that you weren't just his best friend anymore.

Rhys’ return derailed every longing wish you nurtured. Azriel started pulling away from you. At first, you had chalked it up to the return of his brother, thinking that he wanted to spend more time with him to make up for fifty years of separation. However, more time passed, you found yourself fading from his life. He trained with Cassian, soared through the skies with Feyre, spent substantial amounts of time with Elain, and even confided in Nesta.

Nesta, who had previously been horrible to everyone, seemed to know more about Azriel’s current life than you did.

It became apparent that you have only been a distraction for him all those years; you meant nothing. Now, he had his new family, leaving you to be alone.

He truly hated you.

Tears welled up in your eyes. Your heart ached. You were lonely. So lonely. And Azriel hated you.

You couldn’t do it anymore. It became difficult to breathe. You needed air. Shooting up from your seat, the chair scratching against the floor as you made if out of the house through your hazy vision.

You stumbled through the city, finding an empty bench near a secluded part of the Sidra.

Pulling your knees up to your chest, you hid your face in your hands, letting the tears flow freely. Your cries echoed loudly, but in the midst of the agony in your chest, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Hands touched your shoulders gently and your head snapped up to meet the warm eyes of Cassian. His face was taut with concern and his lips moved, but you could not discern what he was saying. Everything felt muffled. The waves of the Sidra river fell deaf against your ears and your eyes only saw colours blurring together.

Sitting on the empty space beside you, you faintly felt as Cassian pulled you towards him, allowing you to curl up to his side. His hands rubbed your back as you released every bit of sadness and grief that was trapped in you. You didn’t know how long you two stayed there. It could’ve been minutes, or even hours, but Cassian didn’t relent. He stayed by your side until your tears dried up and soft sniffles were the only sound in the air.

“Why are you here?” Your voice rasped.

Cassian looked down at you, replying gently, “Because you’re family. You left in such a hurry, and were all worried for you. I think Az was about to rip his hair out of his scalp.”

You scoffed, “Sure he was.”

“What’s going on with you two?” Cassian’s question only intensified the horrible feeling in your chest. “We’ve all noticed that something was amiss, but we didn’t want to pry.”

“He didn’t tell you?” Cassian shook his head.

“He hates me,” you revealed, forcing your voice to be steady but failing miserably.

Cassian called out your name. “There is no world where Azriel would ever hate you.”

You glared, “We haven’t spent time together in months. He avoids sitting beside me at dinners, or gatherings, and he would much rather stand if the only seat that was free was the one next to me. He leaves the room when I enter. He rejects my every initiative to hang out. He ignores me when I talk to him. He doesn’t talk to me, doesn’t look at me, doesn’t even acknowledge that I exist. I don’t know what world you are living in, Cass, but in my world, he detests every fiber of my being.”

Cassian didn’t say anything, only lying back in quiet rumination.

“He hates me,” you whispered. “and I don’t know what to do because all I can think about is him. He means so much to me, and it hurts that I mean so little to him. I’m barely even a grain of sand in the ocean that is him.”

“I’ll be honest,” Cassian began. “I do not know what’s going on in Azriel’s mind. I won’t lie and say that I haven’t noticed him pushing you away. But there is nothing I can do or say to stop him. He is stubborn, and for some reason, he has his mind set on ignoring your existence.”

Cassian turned to face you, grabbing your hands in his, and implored, “But one thing I know for sure is that Azriel absolutely does not hate you. You are not a grain of sand; you are the whole fucking world to him. I‘m certain of it.”

“I want desperately to believe you,” you shook your head. “But I will not subject myself to pinning over him again.”

“You don’t have to. But please, don’t give up on him. Azriel doesn’t realise it, but he cannot live without you. You need to put some rationality in that stubborn brain of his.”

“I don’t understand what you’re asking me to do,” you cried. “He hates me!”

All Cassian could offer was the solace of his embrace, using his words to provide any semblance of comfort. That night, he escorted you home, staying until he witnessed the dimming lights in your bedroom. A pang in his heart persisted, echoing the soft cries that still reached him as he ascended into the night sky, determined to confront his brother.

The door slammed open, revealing the formidable General of the Night Court’s armies in all his imposing might. He stormed across the room, standing before his brother who sat on the bed. Shadows enveloped every corner, but Cassian paid no heed. Snarling, he demanded, “Wake up, Azriel. Snap out of this senseless nightmare you're subjecting her to.”

Azriel didn’t flinch at Cassian’s tone. “Is she okay?”

“Is she okay?” Cassian laughed bitterly, devoid of humor. "You have eyes; see for yourself. Does she look okay? She hasn't been eating well! The dark circles under her eyes are practically permanent black holes now! Her entire demeanor has changed! She used to smile so much, Azriel! She would joke and laugh—fuck, I can't even remember the last time I heard her laugh!”

Cassian's lip curled as he regarded Azriel, shrouded in shadows, his shoulders slumped and hands wringing together. His hair draped over his eyes as his head hung low, gaze fixed on the ground.

Sadness washed over Cassian at the sight of his brother. He hadn't intended to hurt him, but he didn't know how else to make him stop.

“Do you know how hurt she is?” Cassian inquired softly. “I’ve never seen someone cry so much. She's convinced that you hate her.”

“I don’t hate her,” Azriel’s hands curled into fists.

"It certainly seems like you do. Why are you doing this? Why push her away when she means so much to you?”

“Because she deserves better!” Azriel's shout reverberated through the room. The two Illyrian soldiers paused for a moment, startled by the outburst.

More shadows moved, wrapping around Azriel's body, swirling in an attempt to offer comfort to their master.

“That is a stupid fucking reason, Azriel.”

Azriel didn’t say anything.

“Why can’t you just let yourself be happy?”

"I can't find happiness at the expense of hers.”

“Did it ever occur to you that being with you makes her happy? Do you know that she adores you? She looks at you like you hung every fucking star in the sky!” Cassian exclaimed.

Azriel shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “She would be better off without me.”

Cassian growled. “If you truly think that, then you are a coward, Azriel.”

Azriel found himself immersed in a sea of despair, where the shadows stretched like ravenous tendrils, hungrily lapping at the edges of his consciousness. The inky abyss enveloped him, its depths swallowing any remnants of light, leaving only the haunting echoes of his own tortured thoughts.

As he lay there, a mere fragment of his former self, the darkness embraced him like a suffocating shroud. The cold, clammy fingers of anguish reached out, coiling around his very soul, pulling him deeper into the abyss of his own despair. It was as if the void had become an extension of his being, an inescapable prison where his torment echoed endlessly.

In the icy blackness, Azriel surrendered, allowing the shadows to consume him with a twisted sense of acceptance. His mind echoed with the haunting refrain of despair, a symphony of hopelessness that drowned out any flicker of light that might have dared to defy the encroaching darkness.

Just take me, he pleaded silently to the void. There is nothing left for me. His voice, though unspoken, resonated within the cavernous expanse of his desolation. He felt the weight of the Stygian black pressing against his chest, stealing the very breath from his lungs as it fed on the remnants of his shattered spirit.

His vision became an endless expanse of nothingness, the boundaries between reality and the consuming shadows blurring into a chaotic dance of despair. Azriel's world was reduced to the spectral play of shadows, each one a manifestation of the pain etched into the fabric of his existence.

In this desolate realm, time lost its meaning, and Azriel became a mere silhouette adrift in the cosmic void. The shadows, now an extension of his suffering, moved with a malevolent purpose, wrapping around him like serpents, their tendrils tightening their grip on his very essence.

The echo of his own silent screams reverberated through the emptiness, a testament to the profound isolation that had become his reality. The blackness had not only consumed his surroundings but had become an integral part of him, a twisted symbiosis that left him drowning in the depths of his own anguish.

A faint glimmer of light appeared on the horizon. She, a beacon of hope and warmth, entered his desolate realm like a sunrise cutting through the long night. As Azriel lay ensnared by the suffocating shadows, he felt a gentle touch, a celestial force tugging at the tendrils of despair that gripped him.

The shadows recoiled, making way for the incandescent glow she emanated. The void, once absolute, now quivered in the face of her radiant light.

Azriel reached out to her, his fingers trembling in the frigid air.

With each step toward her, Azriel felt the weight of the shadows lifting, the oppressive darkness giving way to the delicate radiance she brought with her. The void, once an impenetrable fortress, now cracked and crumbled under the influence of her unwavering light.

She was his anchor, luring him from the abyss with a gentle yet unyielding force.

She was so close now, and Azriel leaped forward to grab her. But it was as if the very act of reaching out only pushed her farther away.

He was determined to bridge the gap that separated them. With every ounce of strength in his being, Azriel lunged forward, reaching for the figure before him. Her form shimmered like a mirage, teasing him with the illusion of proximity. His fingers grazed the wisps of her radiance, but she slipped through his grasp like threads of gossamer carried away by a gentle breeze.

Desperation etched across his face. Each attempt to seize her felt like an agonizing stretch, a test of endurance against the intangible. The void that had once consumed him now echoed with the sound of his yearning, the silence broken only by the echoes of his futile attempts.

She was just out of reach yet tantalizingly close. The intensity of his desire to hold onto the light that had become his salvation. But every leap, every outstretched hand, only propelled her further into the unreachable distance.

As Azriel relentlessly pursued the elusive figure of light, she suddenly appeared behind an unexpected barrier— a towering wall of fire, dancing with flickering flames that cast an ominous glow. A hushed gasp escaped him as the heat washed over him, and he felt the phantom sensation of the fire on his hands.

Frozen in hesitation, Azriel stared at the formidable barrier before him. The flames swirled and crackled, forming an impenetrable obstacle between him and the guiding light he so desperately sought. The radiant figure on the other side seemed to glow even more brilliantly, as if testing his resolve, waiting for him to make a choice.

The fear of the fire, both real and imagined, gripped Azriel. It whispered to him of pain and uncertainty, cautioning against taking the perilous step required to reach the one who held the key to his redemption. The scars of his past, etched deep into his soul, resurfaced as vivid memories, adding weight to the chains that bound him.

Yet, in the flickering shadows, realization slowly dawned upon Azriel. The fire was not a true barrier; it was a manifestation of his own fears, a reflection of the walls he had built within himself. He understood that the flames were not meant to harm him physically but rather represented the emotional hurdles he needed to overcome.

He looked at her, the guiding light, with newfound clarity. She stood patiently, her luminosity undiminished, her eyes reflecting a mixture of understanding and encouragement. It was then that Azriel recognized the self-imposed limitations that had kept him in the shadows, a cowering fool unable to face his own fears and emotions.

In that moment of profound realization, Azriel understood that he had been punishing her for his own inadequacies, projecting his fears onto the external world. The flames were a metaphor for his inner turmoil, a manifestation of the barriers he had constructed to shield himself from vulnerability.

With a deep breath, Azriel took a step forward, the fire licking at the edges of his consciousness. The phantom warmth intensified, and his hands trembled as if about to be engulfed by the very flames he feared. Yet, he pressed on, determined to break free from the self-imposed chains.

He took the leap of faith, jumping toward the fire, letting it swallow him whole.

A desperate pounding echoed through your door, but it barely registered as you huddled in your sheets, staring at the ceiling above you in silent rumination. The aftermath of tears had left your eyes puffy, and throat scratchy, yet you welcomed the physical pain as a reprieve from the ache in your heart.

The relentless assault on your door continued, accompanied by frantic shouts of your name. The voice pierced through your contemplation, and you shot up, instantly recognizing it.

Azriel.

A stray shadow slithered up your arm, its cool touch and feather-like caresses sending shivers up your spine.

“Hello,” you whispered.

It tightened around your wrist, urging you to respond to the male at your door.

“But he hurts me,” you confessed, your voice cracking.

The shadow reacted wildly, darting around the room like a rabid creature. You chased after it as it slipped under the door, returning to its owner who continued knocking.

Your name came out of Azriel’s mouth like a plea. “Please open the door. We have to talk.”

“We don’t have to do anything,” you seethed. “I don’t have to do anything for you.”

“I know, but I have to try,” there was a rabid sort of desperation that laced his voice. “I have to try before I regret never fighting for you, for us.”

You ripped open your door, relishing in the way the Shadowsinger stumbled and stared at your bloodshot eyes.

“Us?” You spat. “There is no ‘us’, Azriel. You made sure of that when you ignored my presence everyday since Rhys returned.”

His attempt to explain was met with your anger. “You are truly cruel to have done that to me! To have led me on, treating me as if I were a child’s toy, being used for comfort. That’s what it was, wasn’t it? You took advantage of me being vulnerable and used me as a distraction!”

Azriel recoiled. “No, that wasn’t the case at all. But I can’t believe you feel that way.”

“It wasn’t that difficult. Not when you spent every ounce of your energy set on making me feel like nothing to you.” A tear dribbled down your cheek and you hastily wiped it away, unaware that you had any more tears to cry.

“No, no, no, no,” His hand reached out to grab you but you flinched away. Seeing your rejection, he clenched his fist, jaw ticking. His head fell and he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

You stayed silent.

“I’m so so so sorry for being such an idiot. And I have an explanation for it,” he sighed. “It isn’t a good one, but… I just…”

“Tell me,” you dared a look at him. His shoulders were slumped, eyes shining with unshed tears. His fists still clenched by his sides and shadows swirled widely around him. “Tell me what was so important that you treated me that way.”

“I was scared,” he mumbled. “I projected my fears on to you, and convinced myself that it would be better to stay away…”

His eyes shut, as if his next words hurt him.

“You are everything to me. Next to you, I am just a speck of dust. How could I ever compare to you? How could I ever be worthy of you? I knew that, and you would have rejected me for it. So I ran. I ran from the inevitable rejection that you would offer me instead of being truthful. But I am being truthful now. I… I have feelings for you.”

You fixated on him with an incredulous stare, your mouth hanging open, and your eyes widened to the point of bulging. The turbulent events of the night had left you in a state of disarray, questioning the boundaries between reality and illusion. The disbelief lingered, casting a surreal hue over the moment, as if you were trapped in a waking dream, uncertain if the scene playing out before you was tangible or a mere figment of your imagination.

You lifted your finger, reaching out towards the Illyrian male in front of you. Then, you poked him.

Azriel’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you poked his cheek a second time. He called out your name. “What’s going on?”

“Is this real?” You breathed deeply. “You like me?”

“Why?”

“I like you too, dumbass,” you poked him a little harder this time. “You stupid, insufferable, crazy boy! What are you even talking about? What is this nonsense about you being unworthy? Do you really think that way? Is that why you distanced yourself for so long?”

Hazel eyes looked into yours and a smile appeared on Azriel’s face. He didn’t seem to hear the latter part of what you said, only repeating, “You like me too?”

“Why the fuck else would I care so much that you were ignoring me?” you retorted, breaking the tension with a mix of exasperation and affection.

Azriel's smile grew wider, and a genuine happiness radiated from him. The shadows around him seemed to dance with joy, mirroring the newfound light in his eyes. He took a step closer, cautiously, as if afraid you might change your mind.

"I thought I ruined everything," he admitted, vulnerability coloring his voice. "I never meant to hurt you. I just... I didn't know how to handle it."

As you locked eyes with him, a subtle transformation swept over your emotions. The initial flame of anger, fueled by the hurt and betrayal, began to wane. In its place, a newfound understanding blossomed, ignited by the sincerity that radiated from Azriel's gaze. His eyes, once a source of frustration, now mirrored a depth of earnestness that stirred something within you.

The recognition of sincerity and the unraveling of the pain created an opening, a crack in the emotional shield you had put up in self-defense. Amidst the crumbling walls, a glimmer of possibility emerged. The realization dawned that, just maybe, there was a chance for understanding and healing.

Azriel reached out, tentatively brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "I messed up, but I want to make it right. I want to be there for you, to be more than just a friend."

The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, but this time it was different— it was a comforting shiver, a connection forming between two souls. The shadows around you seemed to intertwine, creating a tapestry of emotions that spoke of forgiveness and acceptance.

"I'm willing to give it a try," you said, your voice softer now. "But no more running, no more hiding. We face whatever comes together."

Azriel nodded, relief washing over him. The two of you stood there, bathed in the soft glow of understanding and the possibility of something new.

As you allowed him into your space, the shadows now embraced you both, merging into a unified dance. The pain of the past began to transform into a shared strength, a foundation upon which a new beginning could be built.

And so, you and Azriel embarked on a journey together, navigating the complexities of your feelings and the challenges ahead. The door, once a barrier between you, now stood open, a symbol of the willingness to face the unknown hand in hand.

#acotar fanfiction #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel fic #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #acotar fanfic

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bloodycassian · 9 days

Text

Reborn - Reader x Azriel. AN - thank you anon for this great prompt!

Requested - I don't know if your requests are open but I wanted to throw something in just in case.

An Azriel x reader, where AZ and reader have never met before, reader has been tortured and experimented on by the court of nightmares ( Keir ) she could be a shadowsinger, and they're mates, when the reader is in the verge of death for refusing to work with Keir, AZ feels it and begins to grow hectic without knowing the reason, everyone in the inner court is confused until elain comes out of nowhere and tells everyone that his mate is in danger. ( Vision )

I have this on the back of my mind since reading some of your amazing work and couldn't stop thinking about it.

No amount of masturbation, drinking, or sparring helps the agitation under Azriel’s skin. It’s a constant, burning, itching thing that’s like a fucking disease upon his being.

Sleep is his only relief, but even then he’s plagued with pain and darkness. It reminds him too much of the dank basement he’d been forced into when he was young, so he stays up. He’s exhausted and brooding and quick to snap at anyone who questions him. He knows he’s being a dick but according to the five healers he’d seen, there was nothing wrong.

Nothing wrong, just like how his shadows weren’t some kind of magic, according to them.

He’d refused to believe in healers all that much since the explanation Madja had given him about his diseased pets. The writhing, tentacles of night were a ‘bodily mutation of the highest level, tainted with fae magic’. Tainted. The word felt right for what they were, but that didn’t mean it stung any less.

“We’ll invade here, and be able to plant our…” There was a beat of silence in Amren’s quick words, then her voice cut through his busybodied task like a knife “Azriel, are you even listening?”

Truthfully, he hadn’t been. He’d been consumed by the ache again, the broiling sickness beneath his skin that had every muscle flexed in tension. His mind had other battles to fight.

“What does it matter? You’ll carry out your plan with or without me. Keep talking, make yourself feel important, Amren.” His ill-tempered response came quick and laced with venom. One glance towards the small not-quite-fae female and his mind gave a twinge of regret.

A lick of her power radiated, filling the room with something vibrant and undeniable. Cassian sucked in a breath, and a word from Rhys had her firey gaze snapping to him instead. “Take your dog from the important business then, High Lord.” Her words were precise, hissed.

Azriel straightened. The insult didn’t land as well as Amren had wanted, in part because he couldn’t care less, another because the fire under his skin was reaching a peak that he had no idea how he survived every time it came around. He glanced to Rhys, who gave him a nod. Good. Let him free of this cage.

He flung open the balcony doors with his cursed gift and sprinted off the ledge, launching himself into the summer air.

Rats nibbled at your toes when you slept, scurrying away before you could catch them. Your senses weren’t even close to what they had been months ago. Before, you’d been able to catch at least two a week for extra sustenance.

You told yourself that they’d learned, that they’d gotten quicker at their biting and fleeing. Truthfully, you could feel your strength waning every day.

Living was no longer hope, and more of an inconvenience.

But it was an inconvenience to Kier as well. And that meant you’d keep on living out of spite.

The next female would appreciate it.

“Arms up, legs together.” The order came with unnatural casualness that you’d grown used to. If you didn’t follow the orders, you were beaten until you either complied or were unconscious, so complying was really the only option. Especially when you were attempting to stay alive for as long as you could.

It’s for the next girl. You chanted to yourself when the keeper made the injection. It stung like hundreds of bees attacking the same place, but the pain was familiar. A friend you welcomed before everything went sideways and the nausea rolled in.

The drug Kier’s men gave was like none you’d experienced outside this cell. An incredible high, with a disastrous low.

You convulsed on the floor moments later, your body still barely able to take the amount they dosed you with. You’d seen the liquid inside the damn thing grow each week, they were marking your progress with every one of them. So, with each dosing you made sure to put on some dramatics for them.

The clawing at the throat was false, the sound of your screams only half-forced. The real, unforced reaction though, was always the shade of pallor your skin turned after every injection. The darkness that radiated from you like a bubble, the pain made physical.

It hovered over your skin like an aura, tendrils of it washing over your forehead when the sweating started. It always started like this, for the first few hours - or possibly minutes, you weren’t sure once you were lost to the pain - they’d observe, and sometimes Kier himself would join, looking like a disappointed mother. Then, once the shaking subsided, and you were able to breathe normally, they’d release a rabbit into your cell.

The same rabbit almost every damn time. After the first two weeks, you’d grabbed the first one and snapped it’s neck, hoping that Kier would be happy with the accomplishment and you’d earn something. You’d felt awful as it died in your hands, but the pain… if it stopped the pain, you’d kill anything.

But time after time, they’d send in another rabbit, and though you begged for some kind of explanation of what they wished with the damn thing, they’d only observe. After a few hours of investigating, it’d eventually be removed and you’d wake up alone again.

Kier did not make an appearance today, and after your shaking stopped, neither did a rabbit.

“Where’s dinner?” You croaked, the tears stinging small cuts on your cheeks. Your friend never laughed or spoke, hardly even moved when he was in the vicinity of your cell. It was odd, even for a freak who enjoyed drugging and torturing others.

The male only stared, writing in his little notebook. He could at least humor you and tell you what he was so keenly logging. Some friend.

He opened the door, but instead of the rabbit jumping inside, he stepped forward, past the barrier and wards keeping you from breaking through. Your breathing halted.

“Your reluctance to learn your gifts has given us no other option.”

“Did you lose a fight?”

Nesta’s words normally bounced and slid right off Azriel, but with how volatile he was feeling, it took all his restraint not to snarl at her.

“Come on Az, where’s that quick wit?” She chided, crossing her legs at the knee beside her sister.

His eyes drifted to Elain, the warm blush of her cheeks. Her lavender nightshirt made her seem so much more vulnerable than she was. He knew just how lethal the female could be, and admired her for it. His eyes drifted to the soft hair and round features that he’d once dreamt of. How foolish he’d been, how full of hope and bitterness. Now here he was, merely a ghost. A shell for pain to be housed in and nothing more.

And here he stared at a garden of hope and light. The female who’d haunted his dreams for years. The opposite of the steel bitch that sat beside her.

A pang of guilt pinched at him. “You’re ridiculous.” Was all he could muster at her. Nesta was trying to help, in her own way, he supposed. She was testing his limits and temper, even while balancing comforting words and attempting to heal her little sister’s mental wounds. Not to mention navigating the strange, untrained gift of Elain’s.

It wasn’t often that Azriel came to the house of wind proper. When he did, he usually confined himself to the dining area and the war room, where the formal dinners and meetings were held. He hadn’t walked the halls into the large internal library in a long, long while. No wonder they both had turned their chairs to face him when he’d cracked the door to find them both here.

The large windows seemed crowded with the amount of books that surrounded them. The only source of light, aside from the twinkling magic fueled ones above. The room had always made Azriel feel claustrophobic, and now it set him on edge in a way different than it had before.

Especially when Elain’s eyes bored into his own. His skin felt like it was shifting, pulling and pushing from just beneath. He was beginning to wonder if the healers had somehow missed a parasite of some kind. Something new perhaps, something they’d never seen before.

Elain’s eyes widened, her cheeks going from the pink blush to sickly pale in an instant. Her expression was unfocused, hazy - as if she were drunk. Azriel suddenly felt like he was intruding, like seeing her so vulnerable was something reserved for only those close to her.

Nesta placed a hand on her shoulder and rubbed her sister’s back comfortingly. It was about as tender as Azriel had ever seen her, even with Cassian. He watched the hands that rubbed the Seer, recalling the intense desire he’d once felt for her. Embarrassment coated his cheeks, distracting him from the physical pain for a moment.

He’d wanted to be that support for her, once. Nesta’s hand seemed to grow in his vision, the embroidered collar of Elain’s nightshirt with it. He blinked rapidly, trying to refocus. The blackness around his eyes did not recede though. His bones ached, and his headache stabbed at him like a branding iron. He rubbed his temple, squeezing his eyes shut.

“She needs help.” Elain gasped, coughing on a breath. Azriel wavered on his heels, something hard hitting his back, crushing his wings.

He could barely hear the high strung sound of Elain’s voice. “She needs help, Azriel!”

He tore though the court, dragging Kier kicking and frothing with him. He’d received a few severe wounds from the cruel male, but nothing that a few patches of his siphons couldn’t hold together.

The gushing stab wounds could wait. He had something far more important to tend to.

“You’re a bastard, a low-born inconsequential bastard, Shadowsinger.” Kier coughed as Azriel dragged his broken body with him. The crowd pushed and writhed around them, but his outstretched dagger kept any of the patrons from advancing. Several dark looks, hisses of death closed in around him, but he plowed through them all, working his way to the catacombs behind the stone chair that served as Rhys’s dark throne.

“I may be a bastard-” Azriel grunted through his pain, now more fevored and intense than before. It was a wonder he’d even been able to make it here, but it did explain his sloppy handling of Kier once he’d found the male.

“But at least I didn’t sell a daughter off as stock.” He tossed the would-be-king to the locked door of the catacombs, a part of him enjoyed the thunk his head made against the stone floor, even through the intense agony that ripped through him.

This was not the place to show weakness. If he let his shadows drop, let the air of anything but a cold hearted killer go for even a moment he’d be trampled by the crowd.

Kier rose slowly, muttering curses while he pulled out a key and slid the door to the side. He sketched a bow, waving Azriel in. Spit landed at Azriels feet as he crossed the threshold, and he hesitated in his step. A hiss rang out behind him, shuffling feet a song as the crowd quickly scooted back. He held his stance there for a moment, collecting the wrath that built in him. It writhed and twisted in his mind, his guts, his teeth throbbing with the urge to tare out Kier’s throat.

The blistering heat flared again, this time in his jaw and he moved down the hall, towards the cells that an unfortunate assistant to Kier had described.

He’d made their death quick, painless.

You couldn’t scream, could hardly breathe with the weight that seemed to be growing in your chest.

Not weight exactly, more like pressure. Internal pressure, like there was lava built up inside you with nowhere to go. And every rattling breath seemed to give it more life. You wheezed, weak with the exhaustion of fighting it.

Your friend had given you three more of the injections, and promptly left when you began struggling against the binds at your hands and feet. One of them had ripped, you only knew because that was the hand that you’d used to claw at your chest with.

The blood made going any further too slippery and exhausting.

There were far away sounds, but it all seemed too strange, so disjointed to be real. Screams and sharp clangs of metal, breaking glass and thudding.

Your eyes slipped closed, and relief washed over you. The pressure eased, and the squeaky hinges of the door opened. Had death finally come? Was this the end of your cycle, and now they were bringing in a new victim to Kier’s experiments?

There wasn’t much of a goodbye to the world, though. As sad as it was to not be able to see your family again, you were just grateful that the pain was receding. That finally there’d be no injections, no innocent rabbit and certainly no Kier around.

The sounds were strange, a choking, strangled sound like the first time you’d killed the rabbit. Your eyes cracked open almost involuntarily to see what had happened.

Outside your cell in a glow of blue light was a winged male, his hand wrist deep inside your friend’s chest.

Blood is hotter than most people think it is. Azriel takes joy in it though, when it’s the blood of the truly vile ones. The male with the syringes and log book reeked of something spiced and foreign, something Azriel’d never encountered before. He would have asked, would have talked to the male if he’d not pulled a knife and threatened to ‘kill her’ as he backed away.

There were no thoughts after that. And as he fell to the floor, Azriel reveled in the male’s labored breathing. Relief and heat flooded him, prickling him with a soaring joy he’d thought abandoned him long ago. He could laugh, if it weren’t for the absurdity of how it sounded to laugh at this moment.

He plucked the book from his hands and shoved it into his belt behind him, his chest thrumming with joy.

He’d never been so filled with glee before, so overwhelmed with it after killing… Had he become broken in a sick way? Was he no better than the male he’d just killed? He looked to his hand, twisting it in the low light of his siphons.

A wet, weak cough echoed off the walls and he spun, knife ready.

Then the blade was on the floor as he rushed to the bars of the cell door, ripping it free of the rusted hinges.

The female was gaunt, and frail. Yet his chest sang and though she looked moments from death, he couldn’t imagine more beauty.

She clutched her chest, the blood there crusted and dry. “Thanks.” She croaked, voice barely a whisper. Shadows mounted around him, enclosing them in complete black. He would have thought he was winnowing if it weren't for the sorry excuse for a bed that stayed beneath her.

Azriel’s lips were moving, but he couldn’t tell what he was saying, even to his own ears. His mind, his body was a rushing river of every emotion at once, all cascading through his mind, to his chest and thrumming in his blood. Her eyes went wide and wild, searching his for a moment. His heart thundered in his ears.

What had his life been until now? Why was this moment such a climax to him so suddenly? All of it, the pain the agony, the stark moments of joy against it all - the brief moments of shared happiness that made it all worth it tore through his body like a flash floor.

Tears pricked his eyes, and it was a curious thing to see them fall onto her neck and wash away the blood there.

Then, a wet sigh from her lips, and her eyes stopped searching his. The rush of joy and sense of sanctuary ceased. His blood went quiet in his ears, and the room felt suddenly cold. The room silent around him, not even his shadows dared whisper.

His fingers hesitated over her cheek. When her next breath did not come, he shook her gently. Her eyes remained, staring blankly at the ceiling.

This was truly a tomb now.

“No…” He heard his own words that time. The word clattered through the cell like a bell tolling, echoing.

“Take her back.” A shadow hissed over his ear, caressing.

He shook her again, the tears boiling over now, panic gripping him.

“We know how.” another said. This voice was different, the same whispered tone and suggestion, but this was not one of his pets. He sent his own shadows skittering away, and a group of them stayed, unbound to him and unmoving from the cell. His heart skipped, fear upon fear pulling him into the icy abyss of despair.

His own shadows returned, a broken syringe floating to him on their behest. They mingled with the others, reveling and dancing together though Azriel felt that he was slowly sinking.

“What am I supposed to do with this?!” He shouted at them, at nothing. He had truly lost his mind, hadn’t he?

“Save her.” The strange shadows told him. Just like Elain had said, overtaken by her visions.

A tendril of the foreign shadow wrapped around his hand, locking the glass pieces there and slicing into his palm. The needle aimed directly to her chest, between the ribs, only a few inches from the heart.

And what did he have to lose? The silence that surrounded him now was almost worse than the pain had been. Wouldn't pain at least be better than complete nothingness? To feel completely blank and unwritten as a being?

With a breath, and a part of his siphon’s power to support the broken syringe, he pushed into her skin. His own blood dribbled down the sides, mixing with hers. Through and through - until he knew that he’d met the same depth of a killing blow to an opponent’s heart.

“Side, block, strike.” Cassian’s orders came out in demanding, practiced tones. Each step, each swipe of your blade met with one of Azriel’s shadows as a shield.

His were still much, much stronger than yours, even after months of practice with them. Even with him showing you very intimately just how much they were capable of. Your cheeks blushed at the reminder of that.

“No distractions, keep that shadow talk in the bedroom, Az.” Cassian scolded.

A smirk played at your mate’s face, and he hit you with a surprise swipe at your feet, left unprotected by your own shadows.

You fell on your ass, cursing.

Azriel offered a hand, panting at the exertion the sparring had taken. You were proud of that, at least.

The first six months of training had been dedicated to building stamina, gaining back weight and muscle while balancing training your shadows to obey you. Six months ago, being able to spar with your mate had seemed like a far off dream that you’d never be capable of doing.

But with his training, and Cassian’s encouragement, you were almost able to take him on stride for stride. Almost.

So, you took his hand and pulled him towards you for a kiss. Then knocked his knees out from behind with a wave of your own shadows.

You smirked, and offered him a hand while Cassian boomed with laughter.

He allowed you to help him up, but cleaned in close, pecking a kiss on your cheek.

“You’ll pay for that later.” He said in an intimate tone. A lick of his shadow wrapped around your thigh, snaking upwards.

“Promise?” Your eyes sparkled at him, and the pain all those months ago had been worth it for this.

#azriel x reader #reader x azriel #acotar fic #azriel shadowsinger #shadowsinger #reader insert

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azsazz · 11 months

Text

What's Mine

Rhysand x Eris x Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Hear me out: alphas are super possessive anyway, but imagine high lord/future high lord - way more protective right? Especially in a scenario where there’s other ‘big bad alphas’ around e.g. other high lords at a ball, or at the court of nightmares

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, smut, Rhys using his daemati powers, fireplay maybe.

Word Count: 6,337

Notes: IS ERRHYS MY NEW FAVORITE THING? This is prob the best smut I've written tbh i'm obsessed with these two.

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The ballroom is spinning as you make your way towards the nearest wall. You’re sweating, body hot as you retreat, and it’s not the faewine or the dancing that has you feeling this way, you know it.

You stumble on the sweeping tail of your dress, tugging at the high collar of it as you go because it’s suffocating you and you don’t know why.

People are giving you weird looks.

You slump against the wall, knees locking as you try to stay upright. You don’t know what’s happening, your mind swirling as the intoxicating scents of alphas, betas, and bonded omegas throughout the ballroom sharpen, and your cunt throbs when you pick up the hint of the Night Court patrons within the mass of fae.

An unbonded omega will always be invited to a High Lord’s ball like this, especially one of Beron Vanserra’s parties, a feeding ground for worthy alphas to lay claim to their submissive species.

You’d begged Rhysand to come. As another set of eyes, you’d offered to protect the omegas who were being forced into bonds they didn’t want. It was the only reason Rhysand attended these things, though you weren’t entirely sure why the unbonded alpha High Lord of your court never took one of the preening omegas home.

Probably because some of them were spies.

As a beta, you didn’t have to worry about ruts or heats, letting lust and the urge to be bred make your choices for you. You were free to fuck who you pleased and lived how you wanted, the unlucky female of Rhysand’s Inner Circle who never presented as either of the desirable genus’.

So you don’t have an inkling of understanding of what’s going on. Someone would have had to poison your drink if you’re feeling this way, which isn’t entirely off of the table of possibilities. Being a member of Rhysand’s Inner Circle meant that you were an asset to him and a threat to everyone else.

“Shit,” you groan, clenching your legs together. But why would it be a poison that’s making lust burn your senses into a fiery oblivion. Why do you feel the need to follow the strong scents within the room and jump onto the cock of the nearest delicious smelling one?

You’re trying to clear your mind, focus on one thought at a time but it’s draining. It takes more effort that you’d like, you’d always prided yourself for your quick mind and battle solutions. But the only battle happening right now is the war within your body, fighting for something to exude the swelling pressure between your thighs.

You blink harshly, once, twice, as someone approaches. Their height covers the bright faelights that have been stinging your eyes and making your swirling head pound, and their scent nearly brings you to your knees and have you whimpering like a pup.

Eris Vanserra, eldest alpha of his siblings, stands before you, curiosity gleaming in those caramelized eyes of his.

He leans forward, and you feel the sharp tips of his teeth as he drags them over your covered throat. The sound of him lapping up your scent makes the hair at the nape of your neck stand. You hunch lower, sweat beading at your brow as you desperately try to make eye contact with anyone else in the crowded ballroom, but Eris’ shoulders are too wide, blocking your view.

“Ah, little omega,” he drawls, the silken taunt of his voice is a low rumble, all alpha. Your thighs clench together as instinct tries to take over and your heart pounds in your chest. You shouldn’t be this much of a mess beneath his caramel gaze, pupils so wide you can nearly see into the depths of his soul. “You shouldn’t have come here all alone–”

His words catch up to you through the haze of your mind, cutting through the clouds like a lightning strike. Your brows pull tight into a furrow as your hands slap against his chest, trying to shove him off to take a gasp of air. The room is much too hot and your dress sticks to your skin in the most uncomfortable way.

“I’m not! I’m just a beta,” you plead to the lordling. He’s all but touching you right now, caging you in with his hands pressed firmly to the wall on either side of your head. Eris falters for a moment, but then his eyes narrow and he’s scenting your neck again to be sure.

You’re overwhelmed by his proximity and the palms you’ve laid flat against his chest curl into fists, his finely pressed emerald shirt crumpling in your fingers as the heady scent of firewood and bourbon rushes your senses. It takes all of your self control not to pull his body into yours, not to let the cocky alpha heir slide his knee up against your dress-covered cunt so you can grind down on him like your body wants. Your arms shake with the effort to keep him at bay, both his and your own self control quickly dwindling. No. You need to find Rhys or Azriel or Cassian, someone from your own court who will know how to help you because this…this is not how betas are supposed to act.

“Don’t lie to me,” Eris hisses, pulling away slightly, just enough for you to catch the swirling black mass of darkness forming over his back. Your shoulders relax slightly, but Eris doesn’t take notice, too enthralled by the scent of your hormones spilling off of your body. “I know you want my knot, little omega, that you need it like the bitch in heat you are…”

Rhysand’s hand clamps down on the Autumn heir’s shoulder, sharp talons of onyx piercing the expensive shirt. The sharp twinge of blood has you drooling. If only it were up a few more inches, right on his throat and made by your teeth. The High Lord of darkness all but roars at the rivaling alpha. “Don’t fucking touch her.”

Eris doesn’t like being told what to do. He is an immovable force as Rhys squeezes with warning, pristine, red blood staining the dark fabric. Eris snarls and shoves off Rhys’ grip, lips curled in disgust from the way the Night Court swill has mottled his fine silks.

“I’ll touch whomever I please,” Eris spits, turning that heated gaze on you once more. His eyes are lit with not only the throes of lust, but anger as well. “Especially an unbound omega who wants my knot.”

Rhys falters at the lordling's words, smoldering violet gaze flicking to your pleading one. You see his lips part in response and the moment he catches a whiff of your new scent, pupils tightening to pins before blowing wide with darkness, shadows crawling up his skin.

“She’s mine,” Rhysand growls so low it makes the floor beneath you rumble. The sensation crawls up your legs and straight to your cunt. You clench your thighs together and keen softly, unable to control yourself.

You even almost bare your neck to him.

“She’s not,” Eris answers, flicking a dismissive hand in Rhys’ direction, attention fully on you.

“She will be,” Rhys fights, sidling up to your side. His arm brushes yours and you almost crumple in your spot, body screaming in response to the two hot-headed, unbonded alphas fighting to be the one to see you through your heat.

Eris seems more than pleased to taunt your High Lord. “And what if I were to claim her right now?” he drawls, stroking a flaming finger down your neck. You have to bite back the whimper threatening to slip from your mouth at his delicate touch. Damn your omega senses right now, you can’t be trusted with yourself because of how badly you need his knot. “I could just lean over and mark her right here…”

“Then I’ll kill you and fill this fucking court with so much darkness that you suffocate,” Rhys snarls, his tone predatory. It makes the alpha caging you in go stiff, muscles rippling in response to the threat. Let him go, and I will get you out of here, Rhys tacks on, slipping easily through your weakened mental shields.

I can’t, you cry in response. Your knuckles are white with the effort you’re using to hold onto Eris. If you let go, surely your knees will give out and you like the way that his body is up against yours, how his threatening words make your skin dance with pleasure. He’s protecting you.

You chance a peek up at the towering alpha and it's the biggest mistake you can make right now. His amber eyes are bright with fire, the ring around his pupil gleaming hot white. It makes you shrink lower in response, your body submitting to the male before you. Eris grins sharply.

“Are you threatening the future High Lord of Autumn?” he taunts. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even flick a glance to the brewing King of Night at your side. It infuriates Rhysand even more.

“No,” Rhysand responds easily, his fingers twitching to unwind yours from Eris’ shirt to take into his own. He wants you clinging to him like that, and by the Mother will he do absolutely anything necessary to take you home. “I’m threatening the fucking prick who’s trying to take what’s mine.”

Rhysand hadn’t ever told you, but you’d always caught his eye, since Cassian had introduced you to him centuries ago. But as a High Lord and an alpha, he hadn’t ever made a move, needing to find an omega to bear an heir. Old rules created before his own time. But now that you’re clearly an omega, and one in desperate need of an alpha's knot…the beast raging inside of him is moments from breaking free and claiming you for his own.

He will spill Eris’ blood in your honor. To prove to you that he is a male worthy of your time, deserving of the spot to knot you and see you through your first heat.

“And what does the little omega want?” Eris asks, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger. Rhysand watches with dark eyes. You’re sure that you look a mess right now, damp with sweat, your legs shaking as they try to keep you on your feet. Your fists are still twisted in Eris’ shirt and you can’t seem to force yourself to let go. All you want to do is lie down and take his knot, let him fill you up and breed you until there’s a whole pack of firelings running around these halls.

But Rhys’ arm brushes against yours, his scent drifting your direction. It makes your eyes roll back into your head, the crisp scent of night and fresh cedar sharpening your senses. You want him too, want him wrapped around your body like the tattoos twisting up his arms, want to carry his darklings and see how he frets.

They are not safe thoughts but your body demands it of you. You hadn’t known that being an omega was so difficult, that you’d go into heat and would want all of the things you didn’t ever think you’d have some day.

You need to get out of here.

Eris tips your chin up and you don’t know when you’d buried your nose deep into the crook of his neck. The glistening skin of his throat shines and you know you’ve been licking over his scent glands but you’re too far gone to be embarrassed.

Through the haze, you make eye contact with Rhys, nervous that he’ll be furious with you for how you’re acting. His face is set in stone but you can read the rage in his eyes all too well, having seen it many times before. It isn’t directed at you. All he wants to do is rip the alpha away from you and take you home, back to the Night Court where the cool air will sate your senses and his cock will ease your pain.

“Both,” you gasp, choking on it as the thought floods your mind. “I want you both.”

“Fuck, darling,” Rhys curses. His hand finds your back, knuckles stroking down your spine in a motion you want to keep moving further south. “We can’t. We don’t have clearance to stay in Autumn longer than the night.”

You whimper loudly and their hands tighten on you, Eris’ falling from the wall to your hips to pull you closer. You nuzzle into him, the warmth delicious as the fabrics between the both of you brush the sensitive skin of your body as you writhe. His scent reminds you of cozy autumn nights spent before the fire with ciders in your hands and spices wafting through the air. He smells like comfort and protection.

“Take me back, then,” you pant, rutting against the autumnal heir as he slides a thigh between the slit of your dress to relieve some of the pain. You groan at the feeling. The friction is good but not nearly enough. Your hand finally melts away from Eris’ chest only to tug Rhysand closer behind you. The sharpness of night and forest reminds you of home. “Need you both.”

Caramel meets violet in a thunderstorm of anger, splintering apart when your panting turns uneven. You’re going to pass out if they can’t calm you down, and people are starting to whisper and stare at the sight of you pressed flush between both High Lords, making both of the alphas hackles rise.

“Like hell I’m letting her go,” Eris snarls, fingers brushing across your tight nipples as he slides them down your body. He wants to settle them on your hips but Rhysand is already there, trying to tug your hips to meet his straining cock in his trousers.

Eris bypasses Rhys’ grip on you in favor of slipping it between his leg and your sex, brushing against your clothed clit. He loves the way that your nails claw in response, nearly shredding the rest of his shirt, and he wants you to leave burning red marks across the planes of his pale back, wants to revel in the needy omega from Night.

He smirks at Rhysand as your head falls backwards onto his shoulder.

“Then give us permission to stay,” Rhys says darkly, hands sliding down your sides in wanton. His breath puffs against the sensitive skin of your neck and he takes the moment for a teasing lick that you want to turn into more, a claim on you, teeth deep in your flesh and drawing blood until you’re his, and then you want Eris to do so on the other side until you’re theirs and no one else can tell you any different.

The Autumn Court male would rather burn, but the tears in your eyes has him cussing and agreeing, “Fuck. Fine. You can stay until her heat is over. No longer.”

Rhysand’s eyes blaze at the terms, how the copper haired alpha hadn’t mentioned anything about you returning with him. His jaw clenches so hard you think you hear his teeth crack. “Agreed.”

The Night Court High Lord grunts as the pact is made, a deep purple burn branding his skin with an autumn rope of vine like cattle. Eris shudders with you in his hold as whispers of menacing nightmares slither across his skin like ice, wrapping around his wrist like a vice, locking the agreement into place.

As soon as the deal settles in his bones Eris winnows you away. Rhys growls in warning, his fingers are barely brushing against the Autumn Court heir at all, but the copper haired alpha smirks, not at all minding if Rhys gets lost along the way.

Asshole.

Dickhead.

Rhys tenses as the room whispers into view, prepared for any trap the eldest Vanserra may have taken you to. He knows it’s no longer the Woodland House, the massive estate built for Beron in the clearing of orange and crimson leaved trees. This place…is quaint, warm sunset filtering through the soft curtained windows. It smells like fresh cotton but he can scent the underlying staleness in the air.

Eris has never brought anyone here.

His gaze follows Rhysand like one of his shadowhounds, his grip on you tight like a vice. This is his home, and he will not be made to feel vulnerable nor ashamed of it when he’s the one who’s allowed the Night Court miscreant to stay.

“This is Briarhome,” he murmurs softly, the only reprieve he’s going to give the other alpha, who's still drinking in the room, “My home.”

Not the Woodland House. He never knots in the Woodland House. Not with his brothers and father so close, where everything can be – and is – used as a weapon. He hasn’t even brought an omega to this home, no, this is his sacred spot for him and his bonded omega…or future bonded omega.

And apparently Rhysand, for the night.

Maybe the High Lord has been wrong about him.

His bed looks like the perfect spot for nesting, filled with soft quilts and a mass of pillows that makes you want to climb into and never leave. Warmth fills your stomach and drips down your thighs at the thought of knotting the both of them in such a safe place. Your heart swells and Eris lifts you into his arms, the alpha all soft and gentle now that he’s in the privacy of his own home.

You whimper when he settles you and draws away, only to his knees to start undressing. The pain is overwhelming, and you’d feel bad for being the sweaty, needy mess that you are but it’s your new nature, and neither of them will let you feel bad about it.

Eris unbuttons his shirt, fingers moving deftly across the buttons as Rhysand circles the bed, searching for the best vantage point to grab at you. Your gaze moves to his violent purple ones, your breath catching in your throat at the predatory way he’s looking at you and Eris on the bed, nostrils flaring as your body reacts with a wave of arousal at his face.

You zero in on Eris as the silk shirt slips in rivulets down his pale skin, showing off an impressive set of muscles, adorned with freckles. Your hips buck and his smirk goes soft at the snivel you release, hands snaking down to relieve the ache between your thighs.

Rhys tuts from the side of the bed, slipping into your mind. It’s like walking through fog, with the amount of desire clouding your mind. He opens himself up, just for a moment, and is flooded with your intoxicating thoughts. The feeling floods straight to his cock and he groans, shutting himself out of your mind before his knot expands in his trousers.

He climbs onto the bed, fingertips dipped in night reaching for the high collar of your dress as Eris glides his hands up your exposed thighs, grabbing a fistful of the black fabric making up the bottom of your dress. You arch under their touch, moaning wildly and they haven’t even begun to touch you where you need.

Together, both alphas growling in response to your call, they tear the front of your dress open, collar to hemline, exposing your flushed, creamy skin. The air of the room laps at your overheating skin and you gasp as your nipples tighten.

Hands instantly find your body as yours fist into the sheets, Rhysand caressing your cheek as he turns your face to capture you in a blistering kiss while Eris tugs your panties down your legs in haste.

You jolt against Rhysand’s mouth as something flicks against your throbbing clit. The primal groan you hear in answer to your taste sends shivers up your spine, and Eris is diving in without warning, trying to bury himself in your cunt, sloppy tongue lapping at your slick, wetting his cheeks and marking himself with your flavor.

Rhysand’s teeth are sharp as they nip your lip, drawing your attention back to the Night Court alpha who’s demanding your time. He coaxes your fingers from the sheets and they immediately latch onto him, just as he wanted. His fingers trail across the tight skin of your breasts, dancing over your sensitive nipples as he licks into your mouth.

You don’t like the amount of clothes he has on. How the alpha is supposed to mount you with his body covered is impossible, and you tug at the collar of his shirt, showing your utter frustration through your actions because your mouth can’t form words.

Careful, omega, his voice reverberates in your skull and then he’s everywhere all at once. I’m the one in charge.

Are you sure? You pant against his open mouth, like he’s your will to breathe. And with the way that the alpha hands move, how he’s playing nice with the other High Lord right now, he might just be. Because Eris is the one–

I can be anywhere, be anything you want me to be, he purrs, power licking up your spine as you arch off of the bed. I can have you thinking that he is me, he continues darkly, and you know Eris is the one licking through your folds like a starved alpha, but when your head is forced up on Rhysand’s whim, it’s his face you see buried between your legs.

Off, you beg, pulling at his collar again. But perhaps your mind is so muddled with lust that he’s the one slurping at your cunt. Maybe it’s Eris who looms above you fully clothed…

A strangled cry spills from your mouth as the tongue licking at your clit burns. Your head clears and your gut coils at the sensation and it’s definitely Eris that’s down there, branding his mouth to your cunt.

Rhys slips out of his shirt but you hardly notice because you’re careening over the edge into a deliciously warm orgasm, gushing on Eris face as he holds your thighs open so he can continue flicking his tongue fervently. You drag his abandoned shirt to your nose, inhaling the roguish scent of him as you cum and Mother above if it doesn’t want to make the alpha fucking bond you right then.

But the orgasm hasn’t sated the heat that's burning through your body, the reprieve only lasts a moment before it hits you twice as hard.

You need one of their knots, and you don’t care which one gives it to you.

Rhysand steps around to the end of the bed, eyes pinned on the way Eris’ head is still buried deep in your snatch. He growls, getting a fistful of his copper locks and he rips the lordling away from your throbbing cunt. You let out a whimper so loud that it nearly makes him submit to you, but he cranes Eris’ neck backwards to admire the red of his swollen lips and your slick glistening across his cheeks.

You scramble to your elbows to see what’s happening and are entranced at the two alphas glaring at each other. Your heart and pussy throb in time with each other.

They must be having some sort of mental chat because Eris has a wicked gleam in his eye as he licks the remnants of your slick from his lips, making a show of it. Rhysand’s lip curls into a snarl and he jerks the Autumn alpha back, his neck straining at the unnatural angle as his unoccupied hand reaches for his belt, flicking the buckle open with ease.

Your hand snakes to your clit and you desperately need one of them but you’ll force your body to wait to be able to watch them like this.

“Finish it,” Rhys growls down at the alpha on his knees so that you can hear. Eris doesn’t like it, wants to send his flames licking up the Night Court King’s arm, but the look in those violet eyes makes it known that his darkness will only smother him to smoke. He reluctantly starts moving when you whine and Rhys cranes his neck further when he tries to look at you, undoing his leathers and pulling them down the strong columns of his thighs.

The High Lords prick bobs, head pink and shining with precum, and Eris’ throat works to swallow.

You think the male might take it into his mouth, and you know Rhysand would enjoy it too, because the fireling sure knows how to use that wicked mouth of his, but the alpha towering over him leans down, pompous and arrogant as ever, and kisses him.

It’s hot and heavy, the tension in the room thickening as the two alphas grapple for dominance. They’re all wide shoulders and primal growls, licking into each other's mouths like warriors meeting on the battlefield. Eris shoves his way to his feet without breaking the bruising kiss, and their bodies mold together in a striking image of chalk and bronze.

Your gasping breaths tear them apart, fingers fisting and manhandling each other in brutal lust. You’re working yourself through a second orgasm, just the sight of them aiding your heat, the need for them almost unbearable. You’re a shaking, sweating mess, but beautiful nonetheless as they stare down at you writhing on the bed.

Eris is the first to slip away and Rhys curses, following the heir but he’s too late because Eris is consoling you with a gentle kiss as he presses his cock into your needy cunt with a groan. He presses all of the air from your lungs, stifling you in the best way. His body is warm, cock hot as he pistons his hips in and out and in again.

His name is a prayer on your lips as he works, his hands everywhere, sending flickers of flames up your body every time he pulls out. He loves it, wants to hear you saying his name for the rest of forever, and he holds back a bark of ownership, body shaking with the effort it takes to keep himself from biting into the exposed skin of your neck.

Rhys climbs onto the bed again, watching with keen eyes how the lithe body of Eris Vanserra drags you to your edge. He’s muscled in all of the right places, ass flexing as he pumps into you, giving you everything your body so desperately craves.

The High Lord can tell that the other alphas knot is forming, from the sounds that he makes and the look in his eyes, the barring of his teeth and the offering of his own throat as your nails leave pink scratches down his back as you cum on his cock, so close to having what you want.

But the heir freezes and you scream, tears leaking from your eyes as you’re overcome with blistering heat – no longer Eris’ doing – and the fact that his knot is no longer growing inside of you, trying to lock the both of you together.

Rhysand is a greedy bastard and even though he’s in the home of the Autumn heir, he will never be second.

Eris’ chest heaves against yours but he can’t move, couldn’t if he wanted to, and damn the Cauldron does he want to. Fear slithers through his veins like the darkness in his mind before his fiery anger tries to flush the High Lord of the Night Court from his mind. He can only blame himself, letting the brick walls in his head crumble for you, an offering to let you into his mind as part of the bonding.

Get the fuck out of my head, he spits at the other alpha, who’s smirking down at him with lethal intent.

Are you sure you’re an alpha? Rhys teases, using his powers to tug the coiled male from your body. His limbs are locked, clutching to you like a vice as you squirm beneath him, chasing the knot that’s not expanding. You should be able to push me out.

Your words make no sense, coming out in high pitched noises and cries. Your body is burning, your bones hurt with the aching need for a knot, for their seed to spill into your womb like it's the only thing you need to live.

I’ll fucking kill you, Eris threatens as Rhys forces him away from you. He’s like a puppet, and he hates every second of his betraying limbs as he slides away. He’s frozen, on the edge of his knot growing and it will be painful the longer he holds it but Rhys is cradling you to his chest and playing every part of the hero he wishes he could be, soothing you and letting you clutch to him as he settles between your thighs.

He’s forced to watch the smirk Rhys tosses his way, paired with a wink that lets him know he won’t be moving unless he forces that alpha out, before the High Lord softens, turning to you and silencing your whimpers with a stroke of his tongue.

Rhys wastes no time, bucking into your slick cunt with ease. He shudders as you tighten around him, a whispered moan of his name crosses your lips like it’s your last breath and he can hardly take it, pistoning his hips faster for every sound that you make.

Your legs clamp around his waist and your hand falls away from the deep planes of his back, seeking out the other alpha who you can feel roiling on the other side of the bed. Your fingers find his hair, giving a light tug, showing him that you want him nearer, and it’s all Eris needs to break the chains of his mind with a growl so domineering it makes your cunt clamp and Rhysand’s knot form as he lies claim to your thrashing body.

“Yes, yes, please,” you gasp desperately, the feeling of his hot seed spurting into you, filling you up is everything. He’s so big, his cock expanding inside of you and trapping his cum there. Your mind spins with it and you let yourself go pliant when you’re sure that the alphas won’t kill each other over you.

Eris finds you, laying claim to your mouth as you slip into the blissful sensations of your omegaspace, feeling full and protected by the two alphas you’ve brought to bed. Later, you’ll need to knot again, and your heat will last for days on end, but with the both of them here you know you’ll be more than satiated.

The copper haired alpha murmurs into your ear but you’re too relaxed to make out his soft words but your hand tightens around his at the mention of him knotting you later.

“I’m going to give you everything you need, fawn,” he brushes the damp hair from your forehead as Rhysand strokes your cheek. He may not have daemati powers like the alpha Night Lord, and he loathes that the smug male can hear his vulnerable admissions, but he needs you to hear them. “Just give it a little time.”

“You know,” Rhysand croons when you doze off. He gently rolls the both of you so you’re more comfortable, lying on his chest. You nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck while you sleep, reveling in the scent of the alpha that’s giving you everything you need. His fingers stroke down the length of your spine and he nearly preens when you melt against him. His gaze shifts to the Autumn royal. “I could make you stop again.”

Eris' eyes blaze and his teeth flash in warning but Rhysand stops his speech before he can argue.

In your head, asshole, the Night Court native warns and the other alpha glares.

Not all of us have fancy mind-speaking skills, his voice is rough with flames.

Another reason that she belongs in the Night Court with me.

Copper eyes slash to his and Rhys can see the fury rippling from the alpha beside him. Eris knows that he can’t react how he wants to, to rip Rhysand off of you and steal you away. He makes a show of taking a calming breath, but when he lets his eyes trail down your sleeping form does he truly relax.

I want her, he says.

Me too, Rhysand counters, his grip on your tightening as another wave of his cum releases into you. Only a single thought of you had triggered his ruts before, sealing himself away in the hidden cabin in the mountains because he wouldn’t be able to stop the beast inside of him if you had been nearby.

And you don’t know Eris, not truly anyway. You’d met him in passing, at meetings where he’d done nothing but snark by his father’s side, but you’d always known that there was more to them in that burnt caramel gaze.

She wants the both of us, Rhysand continues, but Eris’ temper is still hot.

Me too, he blurts, and the entire room plunges into stillness.

Rhysand’s body goes stiff at the admission but you let out a pleased sigh like you’re agreeing with Eris. You want the both of them, and his accidental admission says he’s willing to share you, to share himself with the both of you, if Rhysand should want it.

Violet eyes rake across heated cheeks and red lips that part in nervousness, Eris’ tongue flicking out to wet them. He’s devastatingly handsome like most High Fae, but there’s an aura to him that makes something in the Night Court alphas gut churn.

But when he tries to catch the other alphas' gaze Eris won’t look his way. He’s busying himself by playing with your hair, fluffing the mass amounts of pillows on his bed, and gathering drinks and snacks from a nearby closet stocked specifically for this. You’ll need to keep your energy up and both alphas will have to coax you to eat, even though all you’ll want for the next few days is to fuck.

Eris, Rhysand calls and the lordling stops. He takes the moment to stare, eyes dragging down his pale skin from where his copper hair curls at the nape of his neck to his tapered waist and down. He knows that he’s hung, even if he couldn’t see the head of his cock between his legs from the way he’s standing stock still across the room, he’s seen it as it plunged into your body at a pace that made his cock bob.

Slowly, the Autumn alpha looks over his shoulder, heart pounding like a drum in his chest. Rhysand waves him closer, he’s already too far away from the both of you, if the whimper that Rhysand wants to mimic slips from your slips.

She’ll need you soon, Rhys says. He can feel the way that your body is already heating up, how his knot has started to deflate. We’ll need you soon.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

You wake to soft voices and even softer kisses. You’re sweating, body hot as you’re pinned between two muscular bodies, the alphas you’d begged to knot you.

Craning your head upwards you catch the sight of Rhysand and Eris, lips locked in a much sweeter kiss than the one they’d shared earlier.

They look glorious, tongues lapping lazily as limbs brush across each other and yours in between. You don’t know what’s happened while you were asleep but it’s nice that they’re finally getting along.

You watch for as long as your body will allow. You know that they both know that you’re awake, but you’re not sure if their kissing is a reaction to your pheromones driving their alpha senses while they waited for you to wake or their own doing, but Mother is it a sight to see.

Eris’ hand strokes up Rhys’ cock softly, twisting firmer as he reaches the head and runs a thumb over his slit. The High Lord’s breath shatters, body vibrating beneath the fiery grip of the Autumn male.

You moan softly, hands slipping down your body to relieve yourself but Rhys’ hand is catching yours and dragging it to his cock with Eris’.

“Both of you,” he pants, voice raspy with need. Your cunt gushes at the vulnerability in his voice, the soft way he’s commanding your motions. “Eris will take care of you, darling.”

“Yes, fawn,” the lordling breathes, rolling so he’s flush to your back. You’re manhandled onto your side and receive no warning as Eris shoves into you with a keen of his own, filling you to the brim with his throbbing cock.

Neither of you has to worry about being stopped by the High Lord of Night.

He aides your sex, slipping into the both of your minds and sharing images of the both of you together, feelings of each other and how your hands feel around his weeping cock, how tight and hot you are clenching around Eris’ cock, sharing how full you feel with him so far deep inside of you.

None of you last very long.

You cry out at an image created of Rhysands imagination; you pressed between the two of them as they both drive into you, sharing you like you never knew you needed. You bare your throat to both of them, begging the alphas to bite into the flesh of your neck, to mate and bond and love you forever.

And they do, sharing a look with each other that says they’ll figure out all of the details later, but for now, and the next few days, they have you, and they have each other. They solidify the bond in the soft bed of Briarhome, and let you mark their necks the same way in the throes of your heat, the Mother allowing your souls to forge together like the deadliest weapon.

And with both High Lords by your side, you know you will be.

#rhys x reader #rhysand x reader #acotar #acomaf #azsazz #acowar #rhysand #a/b/o #acotar a/b/o #eris x reader #rhysand x eris x reader #eris

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kayjayjwrites · 16 days

Text

Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter Two

(Previous Chapter)

Chapter Word Count: 7,500

Chapter Content Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst kinda, eventual fluff, anxiety/panic attack, vomit (nothing graphic), Rhysand being an ass, Nesta x Reader friendship, Rhysand slander lol, AFAB Reader, Reader (You), fluff, some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish Note: So is this fluff? Debatable. But there is still plenty of Az fluff in it, you just got to work for it a little more this time. You don’t need to read the first chapter to understand what’s going on here, but they are connected!

It took almost three years of employment with the Inner Circle for you to personally encounter the ‘Night Triumphant’ persona. You were not impressed. The most serious you’d seen your cousin was ‘High Lord Rhysand’, the fierce leader, but even that was limited to political business outside of Velaris. More so than not, it was just Rhys, your fun loving, sarcastic friend who so happened to wield an enormous amount of power.

The male sitting at his work desk was not your ‘Rhys’. Hell this wasn’t even High Lord Rhysand. The Night Triumphant held eye contact with you, gaze calculated and stern. You studied the authority in his expression, his mouth drawn into a tight line. Staring him down right back, you waited for the facade to break and reveal the male you had come to know as family. You searched his face for the guy who would rather face Amarantha again than put you in such a precarious situation. The very situation that plagued you with consistent nightmares since you left Hewn City.

You did not find that male.

Your gaze flitted to Mor, her body draped in a leather armchair off to the side, hoping to find a trace of humor in her expression. She tried to look nonchalant, but there was a sharp edge to her that betrayed her own trepidation.

Nesta stood an arm’s length away from you, uncharacteristically quiet in the wake of your High Lord’s orders. She seemed as if she was waiting to see who would escalate things first. Rhysand had summoned the three of you to his office to brief everyone on an upcoming…obligation. He prefaced the meeting by saying that he knew it wasn’t an ideal assignment. He wasn’t asking if you wanted to do it, it was non negotiable.

In two months time, you, Nesta, and Mor would be answering a summons to Hewn City. Kier had been requesting a personal audience with you for the last year. Mor and Rhysand could no longer postpone it, as you were a Night Court Courtier afterall.

Still, you did not want to believe that Rhys would ask this of you. “You’re kidding, right? This isn’t very funny, Rhysand.”

“I know you can tell that I am not joking.” His flinty tone brook no argument.

Any hope of reasoning with the Night Triumphant withered away. He summoned you to his office well aware that you wouldn’t take kindly to being sent back. Here you’d been thinking Rhysand understood your trauma best, having been held captive and used while Under the Mountain.

It appeared that you had misjudged him.

Just as you were about to say as much, Mor spoke up for the first time since the meeting started. “Kier threatened mutiny at the last Council meeting. At first he demanded a private audience, even after I informed him of our bargain. When we still refused to send you by yourself despite his threats, he agreed on these terms. You and Nesta because you’re a team, and me because I oversee The Court of Nightmares anyway. He couldn’t argue with that logic.”

You felt like you were going to be sick. After 300 years of being nothing but a tool for your father, the idea of seeing Kier’s face again so soon had your lunch sitting heavy in your stomach. It was inevitable, he thought you were loyal to him, his spy on the inside. You had zero idea how you were going to handle a reunion with him, simply thinking about it made you short of breath.

Your nights were plagued with stress dreams about what it would be like to return to your old home. You avoided stewing on the topic during your waking hours. The inevitability of it all often sent you spiraling, you couldn’t ghost Kier forever, but you thought you had more time. There was no fucking way you were ready. “I can’t do this,” You said, “give me any other assignment, and I’ll do it. Just not this.”

“You can,” Rhysand enunciated each word, slow and deliberate, like he wasn’t sure you would understand him, “and you will.”

Oh hell no. You did not uproot your entire life to be spoken to like that. “Do not speak to me like a child, Rhysand–”

“Then stop acting like one,” he scolded, like you were the one being unreasonable, “this is your duty to your court, what I pay you to do. If you won’t do what needs to be done to protect your court then we don’t have a place for you here.”

Rhysand’s words hit like a blow. Your sharp intake of breath was echoed by both Nesta and Mor, but you couldn’t see them, they might as well have not been there, your world shrinking down to Rhysand as he regarded you coldly.

“So what will it be?” He addressed you, leaning forward over his desk, leering, “will you do as your High Lord asks of you, or will you be resigning today?” He pressured.

Your hands fisted, ire rising up so fast it made your eyes sting with unshed tears. If you got kicked out of Velaris you’d undoubtedly end up back in Hewn City. And you couldn’t let that happen, not after you finally got a taste of freedom.

Rhysand may like to believe himself better than Kier, but how was this any different from how Kier treated you? Was this your destiny? Undeserving of kindness unless you proved your worth?

What about you made people forget that you were a living, breathing being? Just like everyone else in the room, you had feelings that mattered, and hopes for your future. You’d been stripped of your freewill for the first three centuries of your life. It was a wonder that you hadn’t gone mad.

Were you only allowed a taste of freedom? Was that Rhysand’s plan all along? Get you hooked on life in Velaris then dangle it in front of you like you were a simple mule, your freedom the carrot held just out of reach.

It made your blood boil.

“My apologies.” You sneered at him, gone was the meek, conditioned wallflower. You meant all the disrespect. In a dramatic flourish you bowed low to Rhysand, making sure he saw your contempt for him when he met your gaze.

You maintained direct eye contact as you hissed harsh sarcasm at him, “I am at your disposal, High Lord.”

Rhysand’s eyes flared with something dark and aggressive. Time slowed, a pulse of his power cresting over you in a suffocating wave, a preview of how oppressive he could make it if he so wished. Dread replaced your anger, the confidence you’d displayed moments ago dissipating. You struggled to not show how he had shaken you, and by some miracle, you stood your ground. Still, he could probably hear your heart pounding from where he sat.

Amidst the theatrics, your own power had not been so keen on backing down. It had coiled around you like a viper ready to strike, protective, as Rhysand’s prowling darkness prodded your boundaries.

This version of Rhysand left you stricken, unable to reconcile the egregious behavior with the male you’d had breakfast with just that morning. It felt like his power was tearing you in half, and he wasn’t even exerting himself. He looked bored.

Did you escape the clutches of one villain, only to run into the hands of another? Were you really that foolish?

Mor stepped into your field of vision, mouthing something at you. You hadn’t realized your ears were ringing until the shrill noise faded enough for you to hear her calling your name. The frantic quality of her voice snapped you out of whatever daze Rhysand’s power had cast on you.

Right. Nesta and Mor had witnessed that entire thing. You’d forgotten about their presence in the heat of the moment, your attention tunnel visioned on Rhysand. He had humiliated you in front of some of the most important people in your life. The only thing that could have made it worse was if Azriel had been there too.

Intense embarrassment flooded you, a seed of distrust taking root deep in your heart. You felt so stupid, thinking you could trust Rhysand and his Inner Circle. Mor was still trying to get your attention, but you stared right past her, looking at Rhysand like you hated him.

Hell. Maybe you did.

Mor called your name once more with urgency, moving closer to you, half turned so she hadn’t given her back to her High Lord, but solely focused on you. “It’s the best we could do without inciting a civil war.” She tried to clarify, emphasizing on the ‘we’ as she gestured between herself and Rhysand.

“You have to know we wouldn’t put you in this position if we had any other choice. I personally promised I would never leave you alone in that city again, and there is nothing our father can say or do to make me break that promise to you. We will do this together.”

Rhysand’s power had receded, but you could still feel it loitering like a watchdog. Something you’d never imagined Rhys doing to you before the meeting. He’d always spun such pretty promises about your future in Velaris, and you believed him.

And now Mor was doing the same exact thing. More pretty promises, but no proof of her intentions to follow through with them.

Mor’s shoulders visibly sagged, “If you don’t believe me, then look.” She pleaded, offering her mind up for you to read.

You physically recoiled at her suggestion. “I will do no such thing!” You spat back in disgust, “You are my sister, this is supposed to be my family. I will not taint our relationship with my powers in a moment of weakness. You may not return the same respect, but I refuse to surround myself with people I can’t trust without rummaging around their mind for their truths first.”

Unlike some males went unsaid as you fumbled to tone it down for Mor. Your problem was not with her, and she didn’t deserve your harsh words. “I can’t…I won’t….I–”

Frustrated with yourself, you took a steadying breath, emotion burning behind your eyes. Despite your best effort to keep composed, your voice quivered, “I will not be like our father.”

The room was stunned silent, Mor regarded you with sadness, lips parting to respond, but then pursing closed in a tight line.

Rhysand was the one to break the silence. His power dispersed as he leaned back in his chair, acting like he hadn’t just wound you up tight enough to fracture you into pieces.

“So you accept the assignment then?” He inquired, brushing nonexistent lint from the cuff of his dress shirt.

His lack of remorse irked you. Did he not think he could have handled the situation better? Was this how he treated everyone in the Inner Circle? The list of things you wanted clarification on kept growing, so instead you settled on, “Yes.”

“I’m glad we could come to an agreement then.” He drawled, “We will go over details and strategy another time, when we are all more composed.”

You wanted to punch him in his goddamn face.

“For now, this meeting is dismissed.”

As soon as he finished speaking you stormed out of his office, nearly colliding with Nesta in your haste to get away from Rhysand. Originally you were going to visit the library after the meeting. Nesta had suggested a book for you to read, and you wanted to read it so you had something to talk to her about. But you were too worked up to do that now, you needed to get out of there.

You didn’t care where you ended up, so long as you put as much distance between you and Rhysand as possible.

XxXx

By step 174 your blurry vision cleared a smidge, too out of breath to cry for the moment. You didn’t have anyone to help you leave The House of Wind, so you took to the 10,000 stairs with the expectation of someone eventually coming to find you. There was no way in hell you’d actually be able to reach the bottom. You began the descent down the spiraling staircase so fast It was a marvel that you didn’t trip.

Any time you slowed down Rhysand’s words would play on loop in your head. The only way to drown it out was to pick up the pace, the exertion elevating your heart rate enough for it to overpower that nasty voice in the back of your head. If you ran fast enough the only thing you could concentrate on was counting the steps you took.

239 steps down, and you had no choice but to slow down to a more reasonable pace. It was a warm day, and you were getting dizzy. The last thing you wanted to do was pass out. In a desperate attempt to keep your mind occupied as you caught your breath you focused on the breeze cooling the sweat beading up on your forehead. You listened to the slap of your bare feet on the smooth, sun-warmed stone. You thought of the color of the sandals you left behind at the very top of the stairs. You pondered on which step you’d discarded your blouse on after it began to cling to your sweaty skin.

Your guess was step 148.

You hit the first landing platform at step 250, slowing to a walk as you panted, hands propped against your hips as you counted your next few steps. Woozy, you let your eyes fall closed for a moment, but the image of Kier sitting in his throne room beckoning you forward flashed across your mind. You flinched so hard you accidentally opened your eyes looking directly into the sun.

It felt like your head had a heartbeat of its own, vision blotching from the brightness. You didn’t know how your day could get any more bleak as you rapidly blinked the disorienting dots away. Glimpses of The Court of Nightmares throne room lurking behind every blink, Kier looked more like Rhysand each time you closed your eyes.

It made your stomach lurch, and you whimpered around a dry heave.

A particularly strong gust of wind ruffled through your hair, and you can almost hear Azriel’s voice reminding you to focus on your other senses. Your mind can lie to you, but it’s much harder for all your senses to be tricked at the same time.

The sunlight, the ever-present wind, the sound of birds, the smell of fresh air. Let nature ground you.

It just wasn’t enough. You’d only paused for a few moments, but your chest began to feel too tight for your lungs, anxiety squeezing the air out of you before you could properly inhale it. Two months. Just two measly months to figure out what the hell you were going to say to Kier–to your mom, after you’d gone no contact for almost 3 years. Two months to not be petrified of somehow getting trapped down there again.

So you continued down the stairs, pushing yourself harder.

251. 252. 253. Counting them like Azriel had taught you.

It had been after your first dinner with the Inner Circle at the House of Wind. Mor was a little too tipsy to winnow home safely, so the both of you decided it best to share a guest room. You were feeling antsy, Mor having fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

The House of Wind was so different from Hewn City. Cozy and surprisingly casual in decor, but it was carved out of the side of a mountain. With the curtains drawn, in the dark quiet of the night, it almost felt like your bedroom in The Court of Nightmares.

You had thought a glass of water would do you some good, help you settle enough to get some rest. So you set out for the kitchen, taking care to walk quietly so as to not wake anyone. The hallway led to a flight of stairs, which brought you to more hallways that seemed to stretch on, and on, and on. The homey decor fell away, your balance wobbling with the sudden onset of vertigo. Closing your eyes didn’t help, dizzy and disoriented, everything felt like it was tipped on its axis. You couldn’t place where you were, where you were going, just that you were alone. Fear flooded your senses, and you swore you smelled the dank air of the streets of Hewn City like you were still there.

Azriel found you slumped against the wall on shaky legs, your pulse pounding so hard in your ears you couldn’t hear what he was saying to you. The touch of his rough hands on your bare arms was soothing enough to bring you back to yourself. You weren’t walking the streets of Hewn City. You weren’t alone. Azriel had you.

Each inhale had still felt like you were gulping in freezing cold water, your breath coming in irregular gasps. You thought you were going to die in that hallway, suffocating on fucking air.

Azriel took you to the training grounds on the rooftop of all places. You can still remember the brightness of the full moon that night as he coached you through breathing exercises. Then, coaxed you into walking laps with him around the perimeter of the huge training grounds. He counted each step aloud with you until you had calmed enough to tell him what the hell had happened.

And that was how you and the Shadowsinger bonded over Claustrophobia. An unfortunate thing to have in common, an even more unfortunate first thing to find you had in common.

In the moments after you’d come down from your panic attack you wanted to svirel up and fade away, so thoroughly embarrassed. But now, you thanked The Mother for sending Azriel to find you that night.

It was those same coping skills that led you to working out your anxiety after the meeting. 290 steps away from The House of Wind, and you were sure your legs were going to give out if you kept pushing yourself. You came to a slow stop, soles of both your feet planted on the same stair. Lulling your head back so your face was to the cloudless sky, you closed your eyes and pictured that moment with Azriel. Instead of Kier morphing into Rhysand, you saw Azriel walking laps with you around the moonlit training grounds.

You basked in the breeze against your face, your anger and fear still roiling in your stomach, but no longer all consuming. The relief was short lived, a concentrated pang of despair reared its ugly head, raw hurt so overwhelming it chased the warm memories with Azriel away. It made you so tired, so emotionally drained you felt it in the marrow of your bones. You wanted to just let go, collapse in a heap and never get up again.

Yet, by some stroke of willpower, you remained on your feet. You hadn’t warmed up before taking on the stairs, and you could already feel soreness settling into your muscles. Gingerly you sat yourself down on the steps, resting your elbows on your thighs as you rubbed your hands over your face, spreading fresh tears across the top of your cheeks.

If you won’t do what needs to be done to protect your court then we don’t have a place for you here. Rhysand’s words burned the part of you that had always suspected as much. There was this nasty little voice that lived in the back of your head. It would mock you when you were too content in calling this place home.

You wondered if that voice would start to sound like Rhysand.

The thought broke your heart a little bit more. You wanted so badly to make him proud, to earn your place in the Inner Circle, prove that they hadn’t made a mistake taking you in. The worst part was that you thought you were doing good. Not that you’d believed yourself to be one of them, you were still so new, but you thought…you thought…

You don’t know what you fucking thought.

Curling into yourself, your knees tucked in close to your chest, you made yourself as small as possible. The full body trembling made your sobs shaky, your entire being wobbled from the weight of your failure, your naivety. This was what you got for wanting to do it the right way. You’d never built relationships without relying on your powers to sniff out their loyalty beforehand, never truly trusted on your own violation.

Your father always thought it was a stupid risk to take when you could know for sure. You thought it was an awfully lonely way to live, to never trust fully. Perhaps you’d been wrong.

This was what you get, you silly girl. Kier’s voice taunted from the back of your mind. Or was that Rhysand’s voice? Did the difference even matter anymore?

The telltale sound of approaching footsteps closed in on you from behind, you couldn’t tell who it was, all you could smell was the salt of your own tears. Maybe it was one of them coming to take you out of your misery, maybe Rhysand took your display in his office as a sign of disloyalty.

The killing blow never came, so you glanced up to see Nesta taking a seat next to you. The last person you expected to come looking for you if you were being honest.

She didn’t look at you right away, which you appreciated. You were humiliated enough without her seeing you wiping your own snot on your forearm. Her icy stare was focused on the view, the only indication that she had run to catch up with you, a few fly away hairs having been jostled loose from her braids.

“You were pretty hard to catch up to, you know,” She leaned back, supporting her weight on her hands against the step behind her, “for someone who doesn’t regularly train, at least.”

Her attempt at humor, which earlier in the day would have made you indignant, fell flat. Instead inciting a new wave of tears to fall past your lash line. You dropped your head lower to hide it from her, but it did little to smother the sound of your quivering breath.

She didn’t try again, and her presence grew awkward when you didn’t try either, but she stayed next to you regardless.

When it became apparent that she would stay by your side unless you sent her away, you found your words. “What if I can’t do it,” You croaked out, voice absolutely wrecked, “Face my father, return underground? What if I can’t do what’s expected of me? What if it’s too much, too soon? What if I lose everything because I’m not strong enough.” Will never be strong enough.

“Then we will figure it out,” Nesta answered without hesitation, “Together.”

You are alone. That damned voice insisted.

“But Rhysand said–”

“I know what Rhysand said.” Nesta hissed, and you startled, your bloodshot eyes meeting hers for the first time since she arrived. She looked pissed, lips pursed in a scowl as if the High Lord was right in front of her. “Rhysand is an insensitive jackass. He won’t send you away because you messed up one job.”

“How can you know that?” You whispered, already knowing that she couldn’t know for sure.

“Because I’ve pissed him off by doing far worse, and I’m still here.”

You shook your head at her reasoning, not good enough, she can’t know for sure. “You're his mate’s sister, and Cassian’s mate. He can’t exile you.”

“And you're The Morrigan’s sister, and his own cousin.” Nesta deadpanned. “You’re not going to get exiled over a visit to The Court of Nightmares.”

“How can you possibly know that?!” You shouted, one of your hands clutching the fabric of your sweat soaked chest binding as your heart ached. Frantic to believe her, but knowing that you just couldn’t.

“Because Rhysand hates me, we barely tolerate each other on good days. He once threatened to banish me to the human continent,” she rebuked, hands flying about as she grew impassioned, “He loves you. He’s just an overpowered ass on a power trip. You questioned his authority and it hurt his fragile little ego. And even if he was stupid enough to try to cast you out, the rest of the Inner Circle would never let that happen.”

Your nerves were fucking shot. Whatever remained of your bravado frayed with every hagrid breath, it was impossible to stay focused. It was like your powers were waiting for you to be distracted, taking the opportunity to thrash against your mental shields. You didn’t know if it was skill keeping your powers in check, or dumb luck.

Your headache spread across your temples, sharp pain panging behind your eyes. You were already so tired, but the tears would not stop coming. That damned voice, still whispering its poison, adding to the agony. Nesta can’t know for sure, but you could if you just gave in.

You looked Nesta over, her relaxed body language at odds with the determined fire in her eyes. She left herself wide open, she wouldn’t even know if you read her. You’d be in control, your fate wouldn’t be left up to a gamble.

Nesta tried to meet your gaze, and you squeezed your eyes shut, turning away from her. It was impossible for you to think with her piercing stare studying you. What reason did Nesta even have to care about what happened to you? She didn’t say shit while Rhysand was ripping your world apart, and yet she showed up here? To do what exactly?

There was a dull ringing in your ears as your power surged against your restraint, and maybe you screamed, maybe you didn’t. Your fingers went up into your hair, fisting at your roots as you pulled, rocking yourself back and forth because it would be so easy.

And maybe if you gave in, that stupid voice would stop.

Nesta called your name, “I wouldn’t let Rhysand kick you out of Velaris.”

The cry you let out sounded almost feral. “I don’t know that!” .

“No, you don’t,” Nesta acquiesced, “but do you trust me?”

Did you trust Nesta? The question cut you into you like the edge of a knife, your heart answering with a resounding yes.

Wow, did you want that to be true. But that sinister voice oozed like an oil slick in the back of your head. Will you do as your High Lord asks of you, or will you be resigning today? You had trusted Rhysand too.

Even if Nesta wanted you here, did you think she would disobey her High Lord for you? You didn’t know, not for sure. Your power reared up again, and your head pounded at the onslaught. That oily voice so loud it was all you could hear. You could know.

“I-I don’t know.” You stammered, stomach churning into grotesque knots.

“Do you trust yourself?” Nesta continued her line of questioning.

That answer came to you quick, no, and it had you lurching forward, your balance lost as you scraped your knees sliding down a couple stairs. You wretched, violent heaves as your stomach emptied out on the stairs in front of you.

No. You didn’t trust yourself.

“There was a time where I didn’t trust myself either.” It was like you weren’t barfing up your guts right in front of her, Nesta spoke with such calm. “Didn’t let anyone close enough to trust, even myself, I didn’t know how.”

You wretched again, your hair getting in the way. Gentle fingers gathered the stray pieces that had fallen from your updo. You hadn’t heard her move over to you, but she was there, steadying you as you struggled through a bout of dry heaving. If you weren’t so miserable, the tenderness coming from Nesta would have shocked the hell out of you.

Her free hand rubbed soothing circles into your back as she continued her tale. “I hated myself,” Nesta confided, voice raspy with emotion, “so much that I drank myself stupid every night to escape the darkness of my own thoughts.”

Now, the random heart to heart did shock you.

Three years of trying to connect with the enigma that was Nesta Archeon. Three years of getting redirected when you asked something too deep. The most you got out of Nesta was what she liked to read, so you picked up reading just to have a reason to approach her outside of assignments. Three years of one sided heart to hearts, evaded personal questions, and turned down sleepover invitations.

And she decided that now was the proper time to trauma dump on you? While you were half dressed, ugly crying with vomit in your hair?

What a baffling female. The confusion helped you relax, so surprised you were by Nesta’s sudden urge to share. Her hand kept a slow, steady rhythm as she continued to rub gentle circles onto your back, you hadn’t realized how tensed you’d been until muscles you didn’t even know you had started going lax.

Whatever Nesta was doing, it was working. So you basked in the comfort her touch provided and listened.

“Someone taught me how to acknowledge those thoughts and let them go. To breathe, and still everything else in my mind, and let my mind think those things, but to not dwell, because that dark self loathing didn’t define me.”

The dark self loathing didn’t define you. Her words chipped at something that had been left festering for far too long. Had that been it all along, that terrible voice in the back of your head, had it been self loathing?

“Give yourself permission to feel, acknowledge it, and let it go.”

And it was so liberating, giving a name to what had been festering under your skin. Hate. Disgust. Cowardice. You cried, but not the agonized, tortured type of wails that had crippled you moments ago. This was a release, the type of ugly cry you do when something you didn’t know was broken starts to heal.

You hated yourself. And that was okay, because as you waited for that awful voice to mock you, it never did. You hated yourself, wept so hard you thought your eyes were going to fall out of your skull, but you had never felt lighter.

Nesta found your hand, gentle at first as if giving you time to pull away. Then she held onto you like the simple touch could convey what you were worth to her. “You are the rock against which the surf crashes. Nothing can break you.” She whispered, but the words resonated like she had shouted them at you.

The smile started as a small twitch at the corners of your mouth, but you knew Nesta saw it all the same. You searched for that dreadful voice, waited for it to speak something dreadful, but the quip never came. The smile that bloomed on your cheeks was wide with astonish.

You couldn’t believe it, after 300+ years of letting that nasty voice ruin you, there was peace. In its place was something new and bright.

Hope.

XxXx

The sound of beating wings announced the arrival of Cassian and Azriel a moment before the weight of their landing sent vibrations through the hard stone of the staircase. The two hulking Illyrian warriors made quick work of the walk up the stairs, their casual conversation trailing off once they were within earshot of you and Nesta.

“Ness!” Cassian’s voice boomed in greeting, cheery and boisterous, “I see why you asked for me to bring Azriel now. Here I thought you were acting on your ‘secret’ fantasies finally. The location left something to be desired, but I wasn’t going to be picky.”

Nesta sat shoulder to shoulder with you, so close, you felt her stiffen at Cassian’s offbeat comment. If you weren’t so drained, you’d be cross with her for summoning more witnesses, but the idea of having to walk back up all those steps upset you far more. The adrenaline high from your anxiety had long worn off, and without its numbing effect, you weren’t sure if you could even stand without your legs wobbling.

Nesta sighed, deep and long suffering, but affectionate nonetheless. “Your inability to read the room will always astound me.”

“Good thing we’re outside, there is no–” Cassian’s breath hitched, now close enough to get a good look at your downcast expression, haggard appearance, and odd attire. You were careful to keep your emotions under control, unwilling to let anyone in the Inner Circle see you in such a vulnerable state. Years of cautious composer, wasted, all because of a meeting that lasted less than 30 minutes. You expected disapproval, your emotions had only been met with ridicule in the past, but the apparent emotions flying across Cassian’s face were anything but cold.

Worry. Guilt. Unease. Cassian’s emotions were so boldly displayed, you didn’t need your powers to disconcert them.

Cassian paused in his ascent as he looked you over for injury, but Azriel closed the distance in the time it took you to blind away the tingle of the latest round of tears. Their concern was almost palatable, and being shown that type of care felt too good to be real.

These males had no reason to care so much, Nesta had no tangible reason to care so much. You were so… you, so replaceable and plain. You breathed through the thought, let it roll over you, maybe that was why they cared so much, because you are you. It had never occurred to you that you were someone worth caring for. Not when your own father never cared. Certainly not after Rhysand gave you the ultimatum to get useful or get out.

You are the rock against which the surf crashes. Nothing can break you. Nesta’s words repeated in your head, sending a zing of determination down your spine.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” Azriel crouched down, his chest siphon reflecting the late afternoon sun. His questions made you feel queasy, but his presence soothed over you like a balm. This male simultaneously was the person you worried about disappointing most, and the person you felt most safe being vulnerable around.

Unlike with Nesta, you didn’t struggle with facing Azriel. He was inspecting the grime covered scrapes on your bare toes. “Where are your shoes?” He asked you, puzzled as he then took note of your sweat soaked bra, “and your shirt?”

A dark look passed over him, if his shadows could withstand the direct sunlight, you were sure they’d be writhing around you. He spoke your name like a whispered prayer, desperate. His gloved hands hesitated as he reached out to cup your face, only smoothing his thumbs over your cheeks when you didn’t jerk away, “please look at me,” and you did, meeting his amber eyes as he wiped remnant tear stains from your cheeks, “Did someone try to hurt you?”

You knew what he meant, but your explanation caught in your throat. A brief moment of shame overwhelmed you, because here you were blubbering over some harsh words from your High Lord, when people suffered far worse fates than your own every day. Azriel began to tense, an icy cold rage taking form as he mistook your silence as an affirmative.

You shook your head ‘no’, hating the troubling turmoil you had unintentionally sowed in him. His shoulders sagged, the sign of his relief so slight, many would have missed it. It was all it took for the remaining threads of your thin composure to snap.

Azriel all but scooped you into his arms as tears blurred your vision, and you crumbled into him, no further prompting needed. He held you so tight, it was like he was trying to hold all your pieces together for you. His wings flared to keep his balance, and maybe later you’d feel sheepish about almost tipping him backwards down those unforgiving stairs, but you relished in the comfort his strength brought you.

“I-I was–It was–” You couldn’t string the sentence together, “We were…I was–” you tried again but your breathing was off, your thoughts all jumbled, and Blessed Mother, you couldn’t do it again. Any words you’d thought about trying to say morphed into sobs, barely audible, but you couldn’t hide the way your body shook with them.

“Rhysand happened.” Nesta asserted, sparing what was left of your dignity by cutting off your senseless stuttering. She summarized the meeting, but touched on the major points that had triggered your anxiety. She was gentle with the recollection of your part in the meeting, scathingly critical of Rhysand.

“When I left Rhysand’s office, The Morrigan was getting in his face, and as much as I would have loved to see how that went down, it felt wrong to not check in with you.” Nesta explained like she was coming clean, “ I asked the house where you were.”

It was about as close to an apology you’d ever get from Nesta. You knew from experience that Nesta took her time warming to people, preferring to mind her business and stay out of Inner Circle drama. Once she’d made an offhand comment about being the center of the drama enough to last her the rest of her fae lifetime.

Keeping your head rested on Azriel’s shoulder, you turned your face to the side so your voice was less muffled, “Thank you,” your words carried on the wind, paper thin, frail, but so heartfelt, “for following me.”

Nesta didn’t respond, and you didn’t dare look at her out of fear of getting weepy again. But you felt it all the same, a shift in the relationship between the two of you. Like a bridge branching out, a new understanding solidified in place, and you knew Nesta had felt it too.

You shifted in Azriel’s arms, intending on testing your strength, but his arms tensed to keep you in place. In one graceful movement that had your head spinning, Azriel stood up right, adjusting to support your weight in a bridal hold.

“How about we get you home and clean you up?” Azriel suggested, loud enough for the others to hear, but the question aimed at you.

Home. As in the apartment you shared with Mor. He had called Velaris your home.

Your heart gave a painful throb, all choked up again at the sentiment. Going home sounded like the most splendid thing in the whole world in that moment. You didn’t want to think about Rhysand or Hewn City anymore, you wanted to go home so much it hurt.

There was some rustling, Cassian coming to stand near Nesta. “Wanna race me back up to the house?” His words were muffled as if his lips were pressed into the crown of Nesta’s head. “Winner gets head.”

The swift resounding slap Cassian received almost made things seem normal.

“Are you two good?” Nesta ignored Cassian’s taunting, and you nodded at the same time Azriel responded with, “Yes, I’ve got her.”

A beat passed in silence, all four of you waiting to see if anyone added anything else. Then rapid footsteps took off up the stairs, and you popped your head up from the crook near Azriel’s underarm to see Nesta sprinting up the stairs.

“Hey!” Cassian bellowed, charging after her, “cheaters never prosper, Nesta!”

“Prove it, you overgrown bat!”

If you weren’t about ready to pass out from exhaustion, you would have laughed at their antics. Azriel was watching them, an unguarded fondness in his hazel eyes you rarely got to see. The two of you stayed like that, Azriel watching his friends, you committing his soft expression to memory. By the time Azriel glanced down to you, Cassian had overtaken Nesta’s lead, their figures dots in the distance.

You were a melted puddle of female in his arms, all tension and stress slipping from your muscles as your eyelids drooped. Try as you might, you couldn’t keep your eyes open for another second. Paranoia nagged at you, fear of what you’d see when you finally rested your eyes.

Nothing. Blissful darkness. Peace.

“I’m going to take off now. Loop your arms around my neck and hold on tight, okay? Once we get up high enough, the rest of the flight will be smooth.”

You did as you were told, any other time you would have been a nervous wreck, but you didn’t have it in you to fret. You’d always winnowed with someone, even learning how to land the drop through the wards when Mor winnowed with you to the House of Wind. You’d thought no one had noticed how you avoided the topic, but surprise surprise, Azriel had noticed.

The thought of being up that high in the sky and dropped sure made your pulse spike. Growing up in an Underground City meant your feet were always planted on the ground. So maybe it wasn’t a stretch to claim that you weren’t a fan of heights, you’d never flown with anyone before, but it would make a lot of damn sense.

Your musing was cut short. Azriel launched straight up into the sky, powerful wings effortlessly gaining momentum and speed. You clung to him, hands clasped together around his neck in a death grip, screaming bloody murder the entire ascend. Although you would deny it if anyone asked.

Things evened out once Azriel felt he was high enough, setting a leisure pace towards what you assumed to be the direction of Mor’s apartment. Your eyes were squeezed shut, wind whipping your hair out of what was left of your updo, tossing it across your face.

You must have been quite the sight, if the amusement in Azriel’s voice was any indication. “Are you going to look at the view?”

Your hair was a disheveled mess across your face, the wind burned your already sore eyes when you tried to pry them open. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t keep my eyes open,” It was probably beautiful, but you didn’t want to push your luck, you’d had enough panic attacks for the day, “Luckily, I don’t want to.”

He chuckled. “Next time then.”

Blame it on the fatigue, but you found yourself nodding in agreement. Something you may come to regret when he urges you to fly with him instead of winnowing the next time you travel together.

But maybe it won’t be so bad, if Azriel was the one carrying you. With your eyes closed, ear pressed to his chest, his steady heartbeat lulled the residual tension and anxiety away until all you felt was the security of his arms. You could almost forget that you were hundreds of feet off the ground.

In Azriel’s care, it was easy to relax, he wouldn’t let anything bad happen. It was in that half dozing state, snuggled up as close as you could get to him, that your sleepy mind realized moments like these were the ones you wanted to remember.

Ultimately, Rhysand’s nasty words were a small part of your day. The majority of your time was spent with Nesta, bonding with her in a way you’d never managed previously. Something that would have never happened if Rhysand hadn’t been a dick.

Yeah. You’d much rather remember the day as the Nesta heart-to-heart incident. Or the first time you flew with Azriel.

Drifting into a deeper sleep, you dreamt of the way Cassian’s laughter echoed with joy as he chased after Nesta up the stairs. You dreamt of soaring through the clouds with Azriel, the same fondness you’d seen in his eyes for Cassian and Nesta, but aimed at you.

It may take you the rest of your life, but you would replace all the trauma muddying up your memories with new memories you wanted to remember. New memories filled with laughter, affection, trust, and adventure.

One day at a time.

Rhysand could go pound sand though.

XxXx

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (coming soon)

A/N: Don't worry the next part is going to be more like the first chapter. There will be like two more chapters sprinkled in that have a more serious tone, but the rest will be fluff, drama, and tomfoolery a plenty. Stay tuned for cheeky Cassian in the next update!!

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