#a court of thorns and roses reader insert | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

surielstea · 6 hours

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Territorial

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel was busy with work and Reader decided to go out alone, much to the males dismay

4.4k words

"Az?" I call, peeking my head out the doorway. "Azriel?" I sing, padding down the hall when I don't hear him reply. I follow the golden tether connecting us to his office, only half-clothed with my unzipped dress dipping off my shoulders.

"Hey," I spot the male at his desk, eyes scanning over a form. He doesn't spare me a glance but replies with a quiet, "Hi."

"I called for you and you didn't answer," I take a few steps closer, leaning against his desk and holding the neckline of my dress up. "Yeah?" He mumbles as he continues writing, clearly not listening to what I am saying and filling the silence. "Can you help me?" I ask and he freezes, then finally turns to look at me, ears perking at the question. "The corset," I point to the back of my dress. "Ah," He nods but doesn't move from his seat.

Instead of his hands, it's shadows that move to my back, tightening around the strings and then pulling them tight. I frown slightly but don't move as I allow the darkness to tie the strings. When they're done they return to Azriel's side, swishing around like they were trying to get his attention too, but Azriel seemed busy.

We've been staying in the Hewn City for the past few days, Azriel had interrogations to see to, then paperwork, then more interrogations. So it was easier to stay in the Moonstone Palace for the time being.

My mate was busy quite often but he always made time for me, always. So what's so different now? It might've been shallow that I continued to hover at his side, waiting for him to give me some attention.

I watch what he's so intently writing, frowning at the way he didn't even spare me a second glance. "Take a break Az, we could go to the evening markets?" I suggest and it's like the words don't even reach his ears. "Or I could open a bottle of wine and we could cuddle in bed," I add in a light tune, running my hand down his arm.

It takes a few seconds for him to reply, for the words to even register. "Maybe another time," He brushed me off and my frown deepened. "I understand, sorry for bothering you," I grumbled, then left his office and closed the door with a particularly hard force.

I told him I understood, except I didn't. He worked for Rhysand, and of course, the High Lord is still his boss but if Azriel turned in an assignment a few hours late I doubted he'd get reprimanded in the slightest. If he was anyone else it'd be fine, but this is Azriel, the male who always makes time for me and never makes me feel like a burden.

But now I was standing in the hallway alone, and a little defeated.

I curse myself for being so sensitive and walk down the hall and into the kitchen. I open the door down to the wine cellar but before I can take the descent to the basement I realize I didn't want to drink alone. I sigh, closing the door.

It wasn't that I needed Azriel to be able to enjoy myself but he's got in my head, and now he's all I want.

I decided to pass the time by going to the evening markets on my own, he couldn't be mad at me for doing it by myself when I'd already offered to include him, right?

I scribbled down on a note that I was leaving and signed it with a heart before leaving through the front door without so much as a proper goodbye.

The evening markets were much different in the Hewn City than the ones in Velaris. Every vendor seemed to be trying to con or scam me.

I came across a cart, a skinny pale woman with thinning black hair stood behind the counter with dead eyes. I notice a young pair of twins huddling beside her long, ripped skirt.

She was selling gemstones. They were all fake, you could tell by the way they gleamed under the moonlight but that didn't make them any less beautiful. A specific blue stone caught my attention. I smile softly at the woman and give her my entire pouch of gold marks, enough for a month's worth of food if spent right. She begins shuffling through the coins and only takes what's owed out as I pluck the sapphire up.

"No, keep all of it," I brush her off with a wave of my hand. Her eyes widen as she stares at me in shock. I give her a kind smile. "Get them something nice," I gesture to the two girls the height of her waist. "Thank you," She bleats out and I nod with a gentle smile, pocketing the gem before waltzing away with a small pep in my step.

I come across another stand, this one with aisles of flowers leading towards the shopkeeper. I smile as I gaze at a bush of jasmine, the scent reminding me of Amren. I continue walking down the aisle, spotting moonflowers as big as my palm, and bouquets of chocolate daisies that somehow smelt like the enriching cocoa flavor I was so familiar with.

The clerk seemed busy so I didn't buy anything, just continued to walk until there was a snag at my skirt. My brows twitch and I look down to see one of the twin girls from earlier fisting the cloth in her hand. She doesn't say anything, just holds out a white rose. "For me?" I smile gently and she nods shyly.

I bend down and take the flower, breaking off all the thorns before reaching towards her and tucking the rose behind her ear. "There, beautiful," I compliment and she flushes pink. "Thank you," She whispers and my smile widens. "Thank you, too," I say, standing. She stared up at me in wonder. "Why don't you go snatch one for your sister as well?" I suggest and she nods before scurrying off back toward the flower market.

I turn on my heel, walking with my skirts in my hands as I continue my route down the dimly lit path, shops slowly dwindling away and mage lights flickering the further down the alley I go.

I grip the material of my skirt in my hands at the shift in the atmosphere, my steps speeding up, eager to get out of the eerie ambiance.

Hyena-like laughter echoes down the stretch of the brick road and my entire body tenses. I looked to where the sound had come from, three men sat on upside-down trashcans all talking amongst each other with shit-eating grins. It was rude to assume they were of any danger to me, but I was better off paranoid than ignorant.

I reach through my mental bond towards Azriel only to be met with unbreakable, obsidian walls. I frown, flattening my palms to the cold rock but it was entirely solid and I was locked out. I huff and thrust my own shields up, blocking him out too. Instead of passing by the three men, I step into the building at my left, a bar.

I enter the tavern with a slight panic in my step. I hadn't realized how safe Azriel made me feel until I no longer had his company.

The place was packed, every night in the Hewn City was a night for a drink, there were crowds but it was eerily quiet and I had eyes from every direction staring at me. I ignored the eyes and tried not to catch anyone's gaze as I walked towards the bar top, settling into an empty stool with torn leather that creaked when I put my weight on it.

A bartender immediately comes over to me and I order something light, only planning to pass the time here until I think Azriel learned his lesson and noticed that I didn't need him to have a good time. It was petty and something he probably already knew but I had to solidify that fact.

"What's a girl like you doing all the way out here?" A gravelly voice asked and I turned to the male beside me, his long, graying beard thick with what looked like food sprinkled throughout it. I fight back a grimace.

"A girl like me?" I arch a brow, not interested in telling him where I'm from. "Sure, the fancy clothes, shiny hair," He utters. "I bet that bracelet on your wrist costs more than my house," He scoffs. I look down at the bejeweled bracelet that I wear at a constant. "Well? How much?" He asks and I shrug. "It was a gift from my mate," I utter, not knowing the exact price— but with the amount of diamonds glinting on the piece of jewelry, the stranger wouldn't be far off with the estimate of his house.

"Mate?" He grunts and I nod. "Why aren't you with him now?" He demands, sticking his nose into my business. I nearly roll my eyes. What does it matter to him anyway? "He's working," I swing my legs back and forth. "And what's this male do for a livin' to be able to afford gifts like that?" He gestures to my wrist. "He's the Spymaster of the Night Court," I say, the male gulps down whatever fear bubbled up inside him at the title.

The bartender hands me my drink and I thank him with a gentle smile.

The stranger next to me turns away from me, instead going towards whatever poor girl is on the other side of him as I silently sip my sweet drink, swinging my legs back and forth as I gaze up at the ceiling, running my eyes along the cracks and crevices, attempting to think the way Azriel does, how he notices every single thing, analyzes every movement, every breath. I wish I could observe things like him, read him the way he reads me. I huff in defeat after growing bored from one minute of observing, instead sinking into my stool.

A few males throughout the night approach me but I tell them who my mate is and they immediately back off. I liked the idea of Azriel being so feared in places like this, how he had me blocked from his side of the bond and yet was still protecting me from every male who engaged.

There was a slight commotion behind me, mumbles and synchronized footsteps like everyone was rushing out of someone's way. I ignore it, keeping my eyes pinned to my half-full glass, debating on finishing it or just going home and cuddling up with a book, perhaps Azriel is done with work.

There's a sudden presence behind me, one that's vaguely familiar but nothing too keen. A hand comes down onto my shoulder and my spine straightens at the familarity. "For the last time, I have a mate—" I begin but then I feel shadows twining up my ankles, the scars on his hand, the smell of night-chilled mist and cedar.

"I know," He started and I whipped around, wrapping my arms tightly around the back of his neck. "Az," I greet, and even if I was just annoyed with him, it felt refreshing to have his eyes on me again. "I just had the most wonderful evening," I say as he intertwines his hand with mine and pulls me from my stool. I follow, forgetting about my drink while Azriel pays the bartender with a bill too large for what I ordered.

"I wish you had come with," I say as he pulls me through the crowd, well it wasn't much of a crowd anymore, his wings gave him a large enough frame that groups had simply split in half to accommodate for him, me in tow as he guides me through the path.

"And I went to the markets and bought this pretty gem," I pull out the blue sapphire. "Remind me of your siphons, don't you think?" I hold it up in the moonlight. He looked at it and gave a dip of his head, his mind still reeling as he pulled me away from the alleyway while I continued blathering on. "And there were these twin girls who were so adorable, and later one of them gave me a flower—" I was cut off as I was completely consumed by a familiar darkness, Azriel's hand tightening on mine as he pulled us through the shadow realm, the real world seeming so bright in comparison.

"Az," I pause, looking around at our house as we land, standing in the center of our bedroom. Not in the Hewn City, but Velaris. He had taken us all the way home. "What are we doing here? Did you finish your assignments?" I say, striding up to him and realizing only now that he had yet to say anything this entire time since the bar, I've just been prattling on about my evening while he only nodded, which was typical but, it felt different, there was something cold about him.

"Azriel? You okay?" I reach up towards his face but he catches my wrist before I can make contact. "Do you know how worried I was about you?" His tone is warm but there's a certain deathly flicker in his eyes that sent a chilling shiver down my spine. "There was nothing to be worried about," I mutter, pulling at my wrist but his hold doesn't yield. "You believe that?" He arches a brow but I was too undermined to nod.

"Love," He sighs, his hold loosens and I'm met with relief. "Do you know how many people in that court want me dead?" He tilts his head and I swallow thickly, I hated thinking about stuff like that and he knew it. "How many people want to hurt me the way I've hurt them?" He adds and all I can do is shake my head no.

"I need you to understand the only way to hurt me is by hurting you, make sense?" His hand comes to my cheek, angling my head to look up at him. I meet his stare and nod bashfully.

"I do understand, but, I’m fine," I argue. "I can handle myself, I promise I was safe," I stress and his gaze hardens yet again, now I've done it.

"I know you can handle yourself, but, just let me protect you," He sighs. "Why? I don't need your protection— in fact, you had me blocked out all night, so if I did need you, you wouldn't have even been able to save me," I express and he bristles. I shouldn't have said it, I know it'd hit him where it hurt but, gods, I was so sick of feeling so dependent, like I relied on him every waking hour since we mated.

Azriel never shouted, barely ever raised his voice. But when he did, he was a different male. Animalistic and feral, and entirely uncaged. Some sick part of me found it insanely attractive. His power was so immense I couldn't help but let it turn me on, shadows flooding the room as a vein bulged at his neck as he explained why I need to be more careful when on my own, but I was barely listening to his words, just his voice, his passion. The spine-shivering tone reaches the wrong parts of my body and leaves me clenching my legs, staring up at him helplessly as the smell of my arousal becomes apparent and he shutters, his words halting as he stares at me.

"Are you fucking serious?" He scoffs and I look down at the floor with a bright flush, attempting to hide what's already known. He takes a menacing step closer, hand coming to my chin and tilting my face up dauntingly slow, I avoid his gaze. "Look at me," He snaps and I do as he says immediately, eyes staring up into his, that familiar hazel analyzing every part of me like it always did. "You like it when I yell at you?" He asked and I swallowed thickly. "Answer me, love," He says, hand tightening on my jaw and I nod with creased brows. "Yes," I confess and I could already tell my panties were a mess.

"You gonna be a good girl and take your punishment?" He tilts his head and my pussy throbs in anticipation at the promise of discipline. Again, I nod. "Yeah? On your knees then," He commands and I waste no time before dropping onto the floor before him, staring up at him with shiny, wide eyes. "Open," He says and I part my lips, tongue lulling out. Two of his fingers immediately plunge down my throat while his other hand works at the ties of his pants. I move my own hands up, attempting to offer assistance but shadows are quick to twine around my wrists and pin them useless behind my back.

I close my lips around his hand, sucking on the two long, thick, and calloused fingers. I dip my tongue between them, coating them in my saliva as he curls them into the back of my throat, forcing me to gag on them, loving the sight of my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

He gets his pants down and his cock slaps up against his abdomen, hard and leaking pre-cum, his tip red and angry. I whimpered at the sight of it as he removed his fingers from my mouth, using my saliva to further lube himself for easier entrance. He strokes himself once, then another. "Please," I rasp out, needy for his cock. He knew just how badly I needed him inside of me.

He continues pumping his cock just in front of my lips, groaning out at the intense feeling of his hand. "Open," He repeats and again, I obey. The head of his cock slaps onto the flat of my tongue and I nearly moan at the salty taste of him, tears brimming the edge of my eyes as I run my tongue up and down the underside of his member, tracing the bulging vein.

I pulled at the restraints on my hands, whining in need of more as I suck on the head of him, swirling my tongue around his tip and pressing my tongue to the sensitive slit as he grunted in pleasure.

His hand finds the back of my head, gripping my hair roughly as moans slip from me. "Three taps, remember?" He asks and I nod urgently, remembering the safe code in case he went too far, but I knew I wouldn't be using that any time tonight.

He then thrust all of his length down my throat and I gagged on him, adjusting to his size of him was impossible as he continued to abuse my mouth, tears now free-falling onto my cheeks as his other hand found my neck, squeezing occasionally when I choked on him.

I struggled to breathe as he continued to pummel into my parted lips, his head tilted back in pure ecstasy as I sucked on him hard, bobbing my head. "Gods, you suck me off so good," He praised and I rub my thighs together for any form of friction but nothing could compare to his cock. I seal my lips around his base, jerking my head as I swirl my tongue underneath his cock, drinking every drop of his pre-cum, savoring the taste and eager for more but as he twitches he pulls away from my mouth, keeping himself from crossing that fine line of release. I cry out a whine, wanting the salty taste of him on my tongue now.

"Please, Az," I sob but he ignores the whine. "Get up, on the bed," He nodded his head toward the mattress as I rose from my knees, my wrists unbinding and allowing me to crawl up towards the pillows with shaky limbs. I go to turn around to face him but he stuffs my face into the pillow before I get the chance. My back bows as I struggle to breathe and his hold ceases, allowing me to lift only slightly from the bed. His hands come to the curve of my ass, my dress pushed up by shadows. He doesn't even bother with the ties of my corset and instead tears me free from the material, shredding the gown into pieces and discarding it onto the floor. I whimper as my panties follow without any other foreplay, the cold air breezing against my soaked cunt.

"Count five then I'll let you have what you want, okay?" His hands grope at my ass and I rise onto my elbows, my back arching up into his as he leans over me. I nod with a needy moan, reveling in the feeling of his scars on my skin.

His hand rises then comes down onto my ass, a loud smacking sound filling the room, my mewls quickly following. "One," I gripe, clenching the sheets in my fists as he gives me the second one, harder, the sting lingering and sending shockwaves up my spine. I stuff my face into the pillows as I call the number, so caught up in the pleasure of it all.

His third strike is joined with a cold shadow brushing against the apex of my thighs and I scream at the friction, the neglecting had grown so strong that I could feel myself dripping down my thighs, sopping wet for him. On the fourth smack, the shadows return, this time to stay, swirling around that familiar bundle of nerves and all thoughts leave me, completely consumed by the pleasure of it all. "What number was that?" He purrs beside my ear and I shutter. "Fuck— I, I don't know," I whine. "Oh c'mon, think hard you can do it," He directs, trailing kisses up the side of my ear but it was impossible to think about anything but those damned shadows circling my clit.

"Four," I reply with a hopeful lift to my voice. "Good, such a good girl," He hums, kissing just below my ear before landing one final slap to my ass, the skin red and stinging in pure pain, and I doubt I had ever been more turned on.

"You want me inside baby?" He asked with barely anytime for me to recover, biting at my earlobe as I cry out my reply, "Shit, Az please."

I feel the head of his cock press against my folds a beat later, lathering himself in my fluids as I clench around nothing, legs jolting as I arch up higher for easier entrance, showing just how much I wanted him.

His tip aligns with my entrance and I beg for him, for every inch of him. "Need you, please," My voice shakes and he rises from behind me, his hands coming down onto my thighs, gripping them tightly. Shadows pin my legs to the bed, restricting me from moving as his tip enters me only slightly. "Don't move," He commanded and I nodded, then he thrust all of him inside of me and I felt like I split in half.

I screamed, clawing at the sheets at the intense pain yet pleasure that quickly followed. My brows knot as his base slaps against mine and without much adjustment he begins to pound his length into me, pulling strings of moans from the base of my throat. "Fuck, you feel so perfect wrapped around my cock," He sighed out, head tilting back in pure relief, continuing to pummel into me with an unrelenting force.

"You ever g'na leave without me again?" He asks in a cold voice and I shake my head no. "Use your words," He tells, and my back bows at the tone of his voice, so fucking demanding. "No, never Az," I swallow the lump in my throat. "That's right, 'cause who do you belong to?" He asks, his lips on my neck. "You, all yours," I manage to say, words not coming easy as I was too distracted by the feeling of him thrusting up to what felt like my ribs. I moan his name loudly, head hanging low into the pillows as I arch, pushing further onto his cock, his tight balls slapping against my folds while he twitches against my sensitive walls, shadows coming to contact with my clit and doubling the amount of pleasure.

"Az I can't, I can't take any more," I rasp out as he places sloppy kisses on my shoulder, biting and sucking and licking on any bare skin he could get his mouth on. "You will though, won't you?" He said and I couldn't help but agree with him, knowing it'd feel close to death if he pulled out now.

The tip of his cock brushed over my most sensitive area and I shout in euphoric pain. He smirks against my skin and continues to toy with the area, easily hitting that deep place inside of me, molding me to him, stretching my walls to fit his cock and his alone.

Marking me like territory.

"Az, I'm gonna cum— I can't," I struggle to breathe at how tight my lungs felt, the knot in the pit of my stomach threatening to snap any second now. "Go ahead baby, make a mess all over my cock," He allows and his shadows pinch my clit, forcing me into that orgasmic high.

Warmth blooms in my hips as I find release, tears falling down onto the pillows as my legs shake in pure relief, pleasure racking through me like a wave of ecstasy.

His release followed mine, as I clenched around him from my high it forced him into spilling out his warm seed into my cunt, painting my walls white and making me his entirely. "Fuck," He grunts out. "You did good baby," He whispered softly, pecking my tear-stained cheek while slowly pulling out, his cum flowing out of me and down my thighs as I slump down onto the bed, exhausted.

"No sleeping yet, I won't be able to live with myself if you don't get proper aftercare," He ushered me out of the bed as I sat up with a whine. He smiles softly then picks me up, carrying me princess-style towards the bathroom. I marvel at how easily he switched personalities, shifting between Azriel and the Spymaster so easily.

"Alright pretty girl, let's get you cleaned up."

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 1 month

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Having the Bat Boys as your poly!Mates HC

Warnings: some smutty parts, polyamorous mates

Absolutely NO ONE will fuck with you

Many don't even dare to look at you

Plenty of whispers in court of how it was simply impossible to have three mates. Three mates that may very well be the strongest males in Prythian. (greedy greedy)

bat boys don't ask questions about it. they're all happy to share a mate. They were brothers in all but biological blood. This seemed. . . almost natural to them.

which is why they're confused at your initial resistance. In front of their destined mate, they forgot how intimidating they must look. Unapproachable.

Cassian puts you at ease once he starts joking around

and when you see a shadow of an adorable smile on Azriel's face, you knew they were anything but the big bad monsters you heard of from the other courts

the first night you had sex with all three of them forced you to stay in bed the following morning. Bitemarks and the most delicious bruises stamped on your skin. Even if you wanted to rouse from the bed, your jelly legs wouldn't be able to support you

and after that they can't just go back to fucking you individually as they had in the beginning of your relationship with the trio

by far the best team building exercise they could ever go through.

a favorite scenario was Rhysand masturbating to the sight of your mouth and pussy filled up with Azriel and Cassian's cocks.

"Gonna fuck an heir into her Rhys?" was Cass' favorite thing to say to send you over board when Rhysand had you in a mating press.

Some lords in the Court of Nightmares of course have issue with this union. If you were to become pregnant, whose to say which of the batboys would be the father. They couldn't accept an heir that actually wasn't from Rhysand's lineage. It would be unthinkable for a high lord's mate to become pregnant with another male's child.

the word whore frequently reached your ears

it's one of the few times Cassian wants to disobey his high lord by killing a prominent figure in the Court of Nightmares. He had no tolerance for that word being associated with you

not to say Rhys and Az were okay with it

among them, you were the voice of reason.

you made the batboys' relationship with one another even stronger

they trained and fought harder; created tactics to be utilized in their trio (this included defensive positions if anyone ever tried to harm you)

commissioned a specially made bed that could comfortably hold all four of you

can't escape the dog pile that they become when cuddling with you

you actually don't see them jealous that often. at least not toward one another. outsiders were not to be tolerated. and they viewed all other males as threats.

like making bets with all of them

there was even an ongoing bet: who would impregnate you first

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thebadgerclan · 2 years

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Newly Mated

Pairing: Cassian x reader

Summary: The frenzy’s fading, but the honeymoon phase is just beginning...

A/N: This is a combo of 2 little ideas I’ve had bouncing around

When you stirred, there was a weight pressing against your chest, inhibiting your breathing. A glance downward told you it was your mate, his head on your chest, arms wound tightly around your middle. The bond had snapped a few days ago, meaning that you and Cassian had sequestered yourselves in his bedroom while the frenzy hit. It had died down, leaving you and your mate worn out and more than happy to lounge in each other’s arms for hours.

You’d have been content to drift off to sleep again, but your bladder had other plans. Carefully, you unwound Cassian’s arms from around you and slipped from his embrace, tucking the covers over him before darting into the bathroom. You weren’t gone for more than 3 minutes, but you might as well have been away for a year with how greedily your mate clutched you to him upon your return.

He inhaled deeply, one arm wrapping around your back, his hand splayed between your shoulder blades, the other arm pulling the blankets over you. Cassian draped a wing over you as well, wanting to protect you even half-asleep. “Where’d you go?” he mumbled, and you cuddled closer, relishing in his warmth. “Just to the bathroom, honey,” you replied, kissing his chest.

Cassian hummed, pulling you closer. The room was lit by moonlight, and your mate carded a hand through your hair, feeling your happiness through the bond. It was wonderful to know that he was the cause of such happiness, and as he drifted back to sleep, Cassian vowed he would do everything within his power to keep you happy. When he next opened his eyes, late morning sun was shining through the sheer drapes, and you were propped up on your elbows, tracing the whirls of his tattoos.

“Look who finally woke up,” you teased, and Cassian smiled, sitting up and pressing a kiss to your lips. “I’m tired lately,” your mate said. “Someone’s been running me ragged.” You smirked, wiggling your eyebrows. “Wonder who that could be?” Cassian pulled you to him and kissed you again, his wings flaring behind him. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” you said when the kiss broke, and Cassian leaned against the headboard.

“Anything, love,” he said, patting the space beside him, and you leaned into his side. “I remember Rhys saying something about how he’d never had his wings out during sex before Feyre.” “I’m not sure I like where this is going, Y/N,” Cassian said, but you knew he was teasing. “But he can vanish his wings at will. What did you do with yours?” You knew you weren’t the first female he’d taken to bed, but you knew you’d be the last.”

“I kept them tucked against my back and told whoever I was with not to touch them,” Cassian explained. “We’re very protective of our wings, and I was always told that only my mate should touch them. And you, my love, can touch them as much as you like.” Your mate pulled you to straddle his lap, and you smiled, running your hands over the broad expanse of his wings, making him shiver. “You know what that does to me,” he said, and you bent to kiss his neck. “Yes I do, Cassian.”

Nearly an hour later, you were once more cradled against your mate’s chest, both of you panting. Cassian pressed a kiss to your temple, and you nuzzled your face against his chest, sending feelings of love and security down the bond, which were immediately reciprocated. The frenzy had mostly faded, but it was clear you’d be in the honeymoon phase for quite some time.

#cassian x reader #acotar cassian x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar cassian #a court of thorns and roses reader insert

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heartless-tate · 2 months

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Notice me! | Azriel X Freader

summary; Azriel courting an oblivious reader.

a/n; Heyy! Just a little fic of being courted by Azriel. And you not being very aware of it. Hope you enjoy!

content/trigger warnings; knife, food, meat?, cussing, kissing, no use y/n, hint towards lust feeling, Azriel pining, Armen being sassy, FEM reader (if you’d like me to make a another post with male reader, message me!) she/her pronouns for reader, thunderstorm mention and I think that’s it. If I missed something, feel free to message me on it! 💝

word count: 3.1k. |. Part two

A plate clattered against the table causing your attention to turn to the man in front of you.

You met his gaze as he waited for you to try his new dish, his eyes seeming to shine as the sun hit his eyes. You swear he always seemed to be effortlessly beautiful. It was angering in some ways, you had even seen him wake up looking like a god. No. Better than a god. It didn’t matter if you spent an hour in the mirror, swiping various products of different expenses on your face; the result would be the same. The same boring face you saw everyday.

A wonderful smell wafted from the plate, causing your empty stomach to growl loud enough to shake the mountains. The shadowsinger smirked, pushing the plate of food closer to you with a gentleness most men didn’t have. Your face flushed with embarrassment, your hands instinctively coming to paw at your stomach, hoping it would stop. Your eyes wandered down to the plate where a meal sat.

“I haven’t made this before. I wanted you to be the first to try it.” He spoke with every ounce of grace and elegance a god would have. His hands grasped the seat across from you, pulling it out and taking a seat. His wings shifted until finding a comfortable position in the chair. You nodded in response, picking the fork up before taking in the rather- gracious portion of food he had made for you.

A ribeye steak bigger than your hand sat on the plate. Seasoning of different kinds were smothered on it, and the smell of butter consumed your senses. Your mouth watered in response. Beside it were two sides. Your favorites.

Armen smirked from where she sat beside you, watching as you lifted the steak knife and fork. You were so oblivious. She had been watching for the last few years as Azriel desperately chased after you, and you never seemed to even notice. It was amusing. He has spent hours staring at you, and you never realized. And if she pointed it out, you just assumed you had something on your face. She knew he was growing restless. Not tired of you, but tired of your complete oblivion. These days he seemed ready to scream from the top of the roof that he loved you.

Azriel’s scarred hand clutched at your wrist. He gently took the knife and fork away from you, before grabbing your plate and proceeding to cut your steak into bite sized pieces. Armen snickered from where she sat, resulting in a glare from Azriel.

“Oh- Azriel I can do that-“ You started.

“I know you can.” He responded. He didn’t give back your plate until your steak was cut into bite sized pieces for you. He watched you place the first bite of steak into your mouth.

Your eyes rolled back and you let out a hum of approval, chewing the food. The flavor was delicious, and it was quite easily the best steak you had ever tasted in your life. It wasn’t too buttery. Or too seasoned. It was just right. The meat was tender.

Azriel’s wings rustled at your hum. His face shined with pure male pride. His eyes never left you once while you chewed and swallowed. He stood, taking the steak knife that was no longer needed into the kitchen.

Armen followed after him. He sat the knife in the sink, letting the house do its magic before turning his attention to Armen.

“You’re like a love sick puppy.”

“My love life isn’t your business.” Azriel responded, his face tight. His words were low, ensuring you couldn’t hear.

“Hm. All I’m saying is your ‘courting’ isn’t going to work.” Armen said, picking at her nail leisurely. She was like a cat. Her piercing eyes watched as Azriel’s eyes narrowed at her with a scowl. Before he could comment more, Armen spoke again.

“She’s oblivious. It doesn’t matter if you fix her food, or leave her favorite pastries everywhere so she finds them, she won’t get the hint. Literally. I’m getting seasonal allergies from the amount of flowers you’ve left for her everywhere in this house.Seriously, this place is covered in flowers. Either start professing love or drop this little crush.” She growled out, walking out of the kitchen.

Azriel stayed silent before whispering,“It’s not little.”

“Yeah, don’t let me forget to grab a few early starfall gifts.” Mor said. You groaned loudly, rubbing your temples. Even the idea of her gifts made you want to cry. Her starfall gift for you these past few years have been a collection of ridiculously fuzzy socks. Every.Year.

Of course you were grateful, but everyone knew Mor’s gifts weren’t particularly good. You now had a drawer filled with fuzzy and odd colored socks.

Velaris was bustling today. Fae of all kids roamed the streets, some tending to their shops. Kids ran through the streets playing games. Everyone was out enjoying the sunny day. You and Mor decided to go shopping to pick up a few items. Your eyes wandered back down to your list, a few more candles, a book or two, and some lotion.

“Starfall gifts? I don’t think you need to shop this early for them-“

“Nonsense! It’s never too early to do gift shopping!” Mor said, cutting you off. You sighed and shook your head knowing it was hopeless to argue with her.

After a few trips to some stores, you both ended up getting lunch at Rita’s. You ordered a milkshake- apparently a new creation of a cold drink? None less, whatever they were, everyone had been going crazy over them in Velaris. And of course you also got your favorite meal. Mor ordered practically half the menu, content to eat her heart out. You didn’t blame her- food was good.

As your plates were sat down by the waitress, Mor eyed your food with a questioning look. Your eyebrows raised in confusion. “What? You’re looking at my food weird.”

“Oh. Well I’m just surprised to see you ordering a meal here. You know Azriel is gonna harp if you don’t eat his food.” Mor responded, shoveling food into her mouth as if she’d starve.

“Huh?” You countered.

Mor finished her food before rolling her eyes. She sighed deeply as if you had troubled her. “You know..” she said, waving her hands as if that would solve your confusion. When you raised your eyebrows with a puzzled face, she put her fork down.

“You know- when you eat something someone else cooked or you’re not hungry, and he’s cooked you a meal. And you refuse it- he gets all huffy and puffy! Like a broody motherhen.” She continued.

“He doesn’t even fix me food that often-“ you argued.

“Oh please! Breakfast, lunch, and dinner! Full course meal on the table for you. If only someone loved me that much.” Mor said, picking her fork back up. “Those meals weren’t from the house hun. All I’m saying is maybe you should pay more attention.”

For the rest of the meal, you both sat in silence as you pondered over her words.

Cassian laughed as you entered from the hallway. His eyes shined with amusement as you waddled to the counter with your shopping bags.

The sound was enough to draw a curious Azriel to the room. He immediately grabbed all your bags despite your complaints, setting them on the table. He nodded at you in response when you thanked him.

“I thought you were only shopping for a few things.” Cassian stated. He stood casually leaned against the table with a drink in his left hand. Azriel stood to your left, his wings expanded. His eyes were keen and watchful. You doubted he ever missed a single detail. His skin glistened with sweat, a musky bourbon scent coming from him. Cassian’s skin was sweaty too, evidence of them training together earlier in the day.

“Well, the candle store had a buy two get five for free deal. So I bought four and got ten for free! Cauldron I love Velaris!” You squealed, and Azriel smirked knowingly. He had taken note of your recent obsession with buying candles. Cassian shook his head.

Cassian's face lit up with surprise as you handed him two candles. “So I got one for everyone else. This one smells like leather and the other vanilla. I figured you’d like it Cas.” You continued. He nodded in thanks. You turned to Azriel.

“I got you this candle because I know you love blueberries. And this one is supposed to smell like rainy days and lightning. And this one is books and bourbon!”

Azriel’s eyes never looked down to the candles you had shoved in his arms. His eyes stayed on your face as you happily ranted about the candles. When you finished and looked back up to his face, he had a soft look. It was one you don’t think you’ve seen him use before. His eyes were soft and looked like pools of honey, and his smile was gentle.

You watched as he sat down the candles on the table and turned back to you. “They’re perfect.” He responded. He was so memorizing. You just knew whoever he ended up with would be content. You struggled taking your eyes from him.Cassian growled playfully.

“Hey! Unfair! He got three candles! I only got-“

Cassian was cut off by Mor smacking him on the back of the head as she trotted to the kitchen. She had a lot of leftovers to put away. Azriel gave him a quick glare, silencing him.

You noticed he was wearing all his leathers, and siphons. His shadows whirled leisurely around his shoulders and wings. Azriel watched as your eyes creased in confusion. He sighed. He couldn’t help but feel a shimmer of hope at the fact you had gotten him more candles than Cassian.

“Rhysand sent me on a mission, I’ll be gone for a few days most likely. I’m going to spy on the human queens and make sure all is well there.” He admitted. He watched as your face fell. You quickly smiled again and nodded. His heart thumped like a hammer in his chest. Did you care? Would you miss him like he always missed you? He wondered if you couldn’t sleep like he couldn’t when he was away from you.

“Oh. I see. Be safe.” You responded, nodding slowly. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the feeling in your chest. You had never felt it before. You wondered why all of a sudden you felt this way about him leaving.

His eyes softened even more. “I leave in an hour or two.” He whispered, head tilting to catch your eyes once more. Cassian had disappeared from the room all of a sudden, him and Mor talking loudly about dumb things in the kitchen. Leaving you and Azriel alone. “Let me cook you dinner before I leave.”

His eyebrows furrowed this time as you shook your head no. His smile dropped. He looked like a kicked puppy almost-

“I ate lunch with Mor.” You explained. Your explanation didn’t seem to comfort him as he shook his head in response.

“That was lunch. It’s time for dinner.” Azriel said firmly.

Your mind went back to Mor’s words. Pay more attention…what did she mean? What was there to pay attention to? Azriel cooked for everyone- right..? Your mind raced over your memories, trying to think of a single time you had seen Azriel set a plate down for one of the others.

“Alright then, fix me dinner Azriel.” You responded. Azriel smiled, pleased. His right wing flared, draping over your back. “Follow me.” He said, leading the way into the kitchen. His wing was warm against your back, as it guided you beside him. It was much larger than you were, towering over your head. As you entered the kitchen, Cassian and Mor immediately scampered out shouting something about extra training.

You watched Azriel move around the kitchen in a graceful dance of grabbing pans and pots. He kept his wings tucked in, to keep them from banging against counters and tables. His hair was messy from training, or like he had ran his hands through it more then once. But it never failed to frame his face. You watched as a few shadows dart around, grabbing various spices and ingredients for whatever new dish he’d make tonight. He set a pan down on the stove before turning to you.

His scarred hands gently grasped your hips, lifting you up effortlessly. He sat you on an empty space on the counter. He huffed a laugh at your squeak of shock. He patted one of your thighs gently before leaving your side and returning to his pan.

Your face flushed with embarrassment. He had lifted you as if you weighed nothing, showcasing his obvious strength. Everytime he touched you with his beautiful hands, it felt like everything stopped. As if the world had slowed to let you enjoy the moment. Your hands wrapped around your stomach, wondering what this weird feeling that had overcome you meant.

He moved swiftly, chopping ingredients and throwing things in various pots and pans. You quickly realized by smell alone he was making your comfort food. You remembered the night a storm had rolled in. Usually thunder and lightning didn’t scare you- but this was different. The booms and flashes were intense, shaking the ground and keeping you from sleep. You had stumbled to the house library in an attempt to distract yourself. But you only found Azriel instead. He had scented your obvious distress and took action immediately. He helped you settle on the couch with cushions and blankets before asking what a comfort food was. A good 15 minutes later he returned with a plate.

You don’t remember much pass that, you just remember becoming tired and sleepily. You remember feeling warm all of a sudden and then you woke up in your bed that morning.

“It’s almost done.” Azriel spoke, bringing you back from your memories. His eyes were distant as if he too was remembering that same night.

You smiled and thanked him as he handed you your bowl and a spoon. He made himself a bowl too. He took your bowl from his hands and sat it down, before grabbing you and setting you back on the floor. His hands stayed on your hips until he was sure you were balanced. He guided you to the sitting room with a fire.

Azriel didn’t eat until you took your first bite, ensuring you liked it. And of course, you did. It was warm, and comforting, like a hug in your mouth. It soothed your soul in ways nothing else could, the flavors easing your body from any previous aches. Azriel had never made a bad meal before. You both ate in silence together, with the comforting crackle of the fire and warming food. But as the time passed, you knew it came time for him to leave.

Your bowls sat on the coffee table. Both finished. The house made them disappear, taking care of them on its own. You were always amazed by its magic.

Your head snapped to Azriel as he stood. He sighed, looking at the clock on the wall. His eyebrows were furrowed and he almost looked like he wanted to chain himself to the wall before even considering leaving. He turned to your sitting form. His shadows seemed to move more quickly and sharper around his shoulders.

“It’s time for me to leave.” He whispered. He watched as you nodded solemnly. You smiled, but he knew it didn’t reach your eyes.

“Thank you for the meal.”

You watched as Cassian hugged Azriel in goodbye, and Mor nod as her own way of saying goodbye. Azriel had taken his candles to his room earlier, before joining everyone in the hallway. When one left for more then a day, you all said proper goodbyes.

Azriel turned to you, walking swiftly. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his big biceps practically squeezing the life out of you. He practically had to hold himself back from purring when your arms wrapped around his neck in return. Everything darkened as his wings cocooned you. His wings blocked out the noises of the others, leaving just you and him. His head found solace in your neck. His scent overwhelmed your senses in a good way. Before you had time to question Azriel being touchy, Cassian yelled,

“Ok! Ok! We get it, Azriel. Let go of her before you suffocate her.”

Azriel lifted his head, and his wings dropped. His eyes stayed latched on yours. A few seconds passed before he tore his eyes away and scowled at Cassian. His teeth bared in silent warning. Cassian backed down and turned to have conversation with the others. Azriel released you from his grip.

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t starve. And I left some flowers on your nightstand. I hope you don’t mind.” He whispered to you, fiddling with his hands like a nervous school boy. Your eyes lit up and you smiled gently.

“Thank you Azriel. Goodbye.” You whispered back in response. His smile turned upside down.

“I told you, call me Az. Or whatever you want- just not my full name. We’re closer than that.” He said in a growl like tone. He watched as you nodded your head.

It was time for him to leave now. He sighed deeply. The others had gone silent watching the scene with interest. But he didn’t seem to care.

He leaned down to your height, his hands grasping at your chin. He turned your head before leaving a gentle but firm kiss on the side of your cheek. “Sleep well tonight.” He whispered before pulling away. You stood in shock at the door to the balcony, as he said his last goodbyes. He waved in an almost shy way at you before taking flight.

You stood still, flabbergasted at what had happened. Slowly your hand rose to your cheek.

Realization dawned on you- he hadn’t ever fixed food for anyone else other than you.

a/n; hope you enjoyed, let me know if you want part two! 🌙

#azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel acotar #acotar 5 #acosf #imagine #azriel x reader angst #x reader #female reader #fem reader #reader insert

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 7 months

Text

Practice On Me — Part Seven — Azriel x Reader

Note: I hope you enjoy this part because I’m not overly happy with how it’s written, I don’t know why 😭probably just me being a DUMBASS. Also, it’s still not letting me tag some of you 😩anyone know why?

Summary: The Bat Boys are worried about reader. Cassian’s getting a little suspicious of Kaeda. Azriel is really, really missing his friend.

Word count: 7k.

Warnings: Some injury detail.

“He cannot do this. Surely, he cannot fucking do this.”

Azriel slams his fist on the table so hard that ale sloshes over the lip of a mug. The atmosphere in the mead hall is unusually calm tonight. There’s more laughter than arguing, and some dickhead with a lute is even providing the attendants with music. But at the centre table, a cloud of doom darkens the mood.

Everyone has wisely given Rhys, Cassian and Azriel a wide berth.

Tensions are high. Something’s got to give.

“His role in this camp is to oversee our training.” Az balls his fists. “Not to get involved with how we spend our time outside of it.” He eyes Cass and Rhys opposite him. “Right?”

“Technically, yes.” Rhys confirms. “But as the overseer of said training, he also has the authority to remove any distractions as he sees fit.”

“Distractions? She’s our friend, not a fucking toy—”

“I’m just putting it to you straight, Az. It’s the typical Illyrian attitude rearing its ugly head. All four of us made the decision to go to Fenlaros, and yet it’s the female who shoulders the blame.”

“It’s fucking ridiculous.” Cassian finally speaks up.

He hasn’t said much. Too busy thinking about last night.

Nobody knows a thing about that wild, impulsive fuck except him and Y/N. He plans to keep it that way. Not out of any sense of regret, but…he doesn’t know. His brain is ticking over.

He can’t help wondering something that’s never occurred to him before.

Is Y/N branded a certain way by Illyrian ideologies because the closest people to her are males? Has she unfairly gained a reputation — one that would be made worse if what she and Cassian had done became common knowledge?

He doesn’t want to be the reason she gets more shit thrown her way. He’s starting to think he should think harder before he acts. Maybe last night was a mistake. He can’t even see Y/N to talk it through with her.

“So what do we do?” Az is asking as Cass zones back in. “There’s got to be something. Do we take the matter to your father?”

Rhys cocks an eyebrow. “Be real for a second, Az. My father would laugh us out of Velaris. He doesn’t concern himself with trivial camp matters.”

“Y/N having to choose between an abusive household or perishing in the snow is not a trivial matter.”

“To him, it is. He’d tell Devlon to lead and do what he believes is right. Which, he already has, even if we don’t agree with it.”

“Well that’s bullshit. We can’t just lie down and do nothing—”

“I’m not saying that, Az—”

“What about your mother? She adores Y/N. Surely she could appeal to your father—”

“No. She’s pregnant. She stays out of this.”

“Then what do you suggest, Rhysand?”

“How about you start by explaining to Cass and I what’s gotten into you recently?”

Finally, Az has nothing to say. He goes silent. Still.

He stares back at his two friends like he can’t imagine why they would wonder such a thing.

And then he purses his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Cassian scoffs. “Please. Even I think you starting fights left and right has been extreme.”

“Fuck you. You’re totally exaggerating.”

Rhysand raises an eyebrow. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

“We’re just worried that your behaviour has changed since Kaeda came into the picture—”

“You know what I’m worried about?” Az snaps. “Our friend who is literally homeless as of this morning. That’s a little more important, don’t you think?”

Yes…and no. It’s not that Cassian and Rhys don’t agree. It’s just that…that all roads lead back to Kaeda. And that’s becoming a problem.

“We’re not just going to leave Y/N to deal with this alone, Az.” Rhys tells him. “We just need to be careful about how we deal with it. Devlon isn’t messing around. I don’t want us to cause her more trouble.”

As folds his arms. “So what do you suggest?”

“I’ll talk to Y/N’s friend — Vegha. I’m sure she can open her home to Y/N while we figure things out. Just don’t do anything impulsive or stupid.”

That seems to appease Az a little. He sits back in his chair — allows himself to be a bit more open.

Until Cass totally fucking ruins it and says, “And don’t go starting any more fights just to impress Kaeda.”

Az says again, “Fuck you.”

Cass returns a withering look. “Fuck you right back.”

“Productive.” Rhys comments, shaking his head. He pushes to his feet, and both his friends look round.

“Where are you going?” Az asks.

“To speak with Vegha.” Rhys tells him. “And don’t follow me. You two idiots will only make things worse.”

He has no idea how right he is.

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It starts with the fire going out. Always.

The door swings open hard enough to hit the wall, and freezing air envelops the place. Your father tracks snow into the house, and he smells so strongly of booze that it permeates the room and spreads like a sickness.

You are five years old. You like to draw things in the soot that coats the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. The house always feels untidy since mama stole away in the dead of night a year ago. You try to keep on top of the cleaning, but the damp and the cold makes your hands sore, your bones ache.

Every night, you sit with your hands in your lap and wait for your father to return home. If he’s coming back from the forge, he’s tired and in a bad mood. If he’s coming back from the mead hall or a tavern, he’s drunk and in a really bad mood.

Tonight is the latter. But not only is he drunk and in a bad mood — he’s also brought company.

Four other males. They’re all huge — too huge to fit into the house, you think. If they’ve come for food, there isn’t any. If they’ve come for comfort, there isn’t any of that, either.

But they’re looking at you, all four of them. And in some way, you know that it’s you they’ve come for.

“This is the one?” A male with reddish-brown hair asks.

“I have only one.” Your father answers, and he jerks a chin in your direction. “That is it.”

It.

“Scrawny. There’s barely anything of her.” A second male comments. “This won’t be difficult.”

“I always think that,” reddish-brown answers, “and then they start fighting back. Kicking and scratching.”

You may only be five, but you are not foolish. Something is very, very wrong. A sinister wave has swept your already-miserable home, and you are about to be swallowed up in it. You eye the four males with wide eyes and scoot back a little.

Reddish-brown is the leader. He folds his arms with an authoritative air and announces, “Pathorn and Yevmael can hold her down,” he turns to the second male, “you take one wing, and I’ll take the other.”

The male that steps towards you from the back has eyes as black as the soot in the hearth. His lips twitch up on one side, and he says, “Come here, then, little pup.”

You do not move.

“Come.” He repeats. “It won’t hurt…much.”

They laugh at that.

You tuck your dirty, bruised knees tightly into your chest and rest your chin atop of them. You say nothing, make no move.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” His friend at the back says, stalking over to you. “Just pick her up.”

He does exactly that — by the scruff of your neck. You yelp as he yanks you into the air, and on instinct, your arms are flailing, legs kicking, tiny wings flaring.

“Look at that.” Charcoal eyes sneers at those very wings. “It’s a fucking abomination.”

If this is a game, you don’t like it. You twist in the male’s grasp, try to wriggle free, and he growls a curse at you. You growl back — a fierce, fierce noise, you think. It makes the males laugh again.

“On the table.” Reddish-brown says. “Face-down.”

“Papa,” you fight, “papa, papa, papa.”

There comes no response. It’s then that you realise he’s removed himself from the room. Left you with these monsters.

“Quiet now, pup.” Charcoal eyes says. “This won’t take long.”

You want to scratch him, and you try, even though your nails are chewed and bitten, despite mama always telling you not to do that. But mama isn’t here now and neither is papa. It’s just strangers with angry faces. Strangers who want to hurt you.

You’re slammed down onto the table, and you let out a cry. Someone holds your legs down. Another person holds your arms.

You are five years old. You like to draw pictures in the soot that covers the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. You are utterly and totally alone.

“I hope you never thought about flying.” Reddish-brown steps up to you. “That day will never come.”

And then they begin hacking at your wings.

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Your father takes you to a healer only when it’s almost too late. A fever scorches you head to toe. You think that mama returns to sit by your bedside, but that isn’t real. It’s a dream.

You’re too weak. You sleep fitfully on your front, because trembles wrack your body that continuously wake you up. You jerk every time the pain at your back gets too much.

The door opens, and you wonder if mama is returning again. You like that dream. But it’s your father, accompanied by the male who has been leaning over your weakened body for days.

“Will she live?” Your father asks.

“She will.” The healer tells him. “If she can fight off the infection.”

“Can’t you just give her a tonic, or something?”

“This is the worst wing clipping I have ever seen. There are ample healers in Illyria who are qualified to carry out the practice. What possessed you to instead leave her in the hands of a group of soldiers?”

“I will do with my child as I see fit.”

“You may no longer have a child, if she cannot fight this. Her life hangs in the balance.”

Your father makes a noise that sounds like a growl. He does that when you’re in his way, and he just wants to sit quietly without you lingering around him. “Give her a fucking tonic—”

“If she survives this,” the healer tells him, “she will be scarred and in pain for the rest of her life. You did not merely clip her wings. You butchered them. This is precisely why a healer should be the one to perform the procedure—”

Your body jerks with a fresh wave of pain, and you whimper. Both your father and the healer look over at you.

Your father’s lip curls, and he turns to the male once more. “Fix her.” He commands. “Because if you can’t, you’re helping me bury the body.”

No. The males will come back and put their hands on you again. They’ll bury a body. They’ll bury your body. They’re going to bury you. Soil will fall on your ruined wings, and when mama truly does come back, she’ll have only an unmarked grave to greet you at.

You try to move, but you’re strapped down. You whimper again.

Bury the body.

Bury the—

Your body lurches up.

Sweat slicks your skin. You press a hand to your forehead, but it’s cool, not burdened by fever. You’ve awoken like this every morning for the past week.

The dreams are burdening you a lot right now. The memories.

They remind you, at least, why you will not return to your father’s home. Even if you end up hunching yourself up in doorways and exhausting any other dire options.

You hear a noise from the doorway, and you rub the bleariness from your eyes. Illuminated by the dim light in the hall, a male leans against the doorframe. He watches you nonchalantly, biting into an apple. Green, not red.

“You were shouting in your sleep again.”

You heave a deep, slow sigh and rake your fingers through your hair. Sweat soaks the strands.

“You dream often about burying bodies, don’t you?” The male steps into the room. He flares his wings, and you try not to look at them. “You’re quite odd. I think I like it.”

“Get out, Markis.” You sigh again. “Stop watching me sleep. It’s strange.”

“Is it more or less strange than chanting about burying a body?” He smirks. “And you’re in my house, remember? You can’t tell me to get out.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my house, too, and I can.” Suddenly, Vegha is appearing. She swats her younger brother, and a slither of relief settles into you. “Stop bugging her, Markis. Go to the training rings, or something.”

Markis so clearly doesn’t want to leave. He eyes you, his gaze falling from your neck, down to the old, threadbare sweater that you’ve been sleeping in. It’s Azriel’s — still smells like him.

The intensity of the male’s gaze is uncomfortable. And after a week of tolerating it, you’re not sure you can any longer.

“Fine.” He swallows down a bite of apple. He sends you a leering smirk. “I’ll tell your friends you said hello.”

Vegha rolls her eyes. “Markis, just leave before I boil your entire head—

“I’m going, I’m going.”

The male strides out of the room, shooting you one last look over his shoulder. You should ignore it, because the idiot is just basking in the novelty of having a female under his roof that he’s not related to, but the discomfort has sunk itself under your skin, and you’re not sure you can live with it.

Which is a bit of a problem, considering there are no other avenues for you to explore, and have nowhere else to go.

Vegha shuts the door behind her brother and turns to you. “You slept fitfully again.”

“Yes.” You feel a little bad admitting it. It’s not her, nor her family home, nor the bed that’s the problem. It’s you. All you. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“Of course, you do. I wish there was more I could do to help.”

“You’ve done more than enough, Vegha.”

She doesn’t look convinced. The worried streak in her eyes is an indicator of how terrible you look. And you know she’s just caring for you as your friend, but you can’t stand it. One more pitying glance may push you over the edge.

“I have to get to the crèche.” She tells you. “Can I get you anything before I leave?”

“No—thank you.” You sit up. “Listen…I won’t be here when you return home. I’m getting out of your hair today.”

She pauses. Studies you. “You’re not in my hair. You’re welcome to stay for as long as you need. Ignore Markis — he’s a cock.”

You breathe a soft laugh. But you can’t ignore Markis — not any longer. Just as you haven’t been able to ignore any of the males who have made the past week even more difficult than it already was.

Illyrian males are…are a sickness. They’re bred in violence and depravity. So few of them are good.

And if the past week without Azriel, Rhys and Cassian has taught you anything, it’s that to some degree, your exposure to such behaviours has always been muted, thanks to their protection. They’ve been a strong unit around you since you were eleven years old. Most males have been wise enough to steer clear and escape the wrath that would come down on them for messing with you.

But now you’re forbidden from seeing them, and you’re free game for any fucking male in this gods-forsaken place.

You need to be away from them. To be on your own.

“I know.” You answer Vegha. “And I appreciate you opening your home to me, I really do. But it’s fine — I’ve made other arrangements.”

The look she gives you is dubious. She doesn’t believe you, and rightfully so — it’s total bullshit. “You have?”

“I have.” You dip your chin. “I’ll be just fine.”

“…well I’m glad to hear it. You’ll come right back here if those plans fall through, right?”

“Of course I will.” No.

She hesitates at the door. She’s been nothing but kind and accommodating to you — a real friend.

But it’s bad enough not being able to escape the males that haunt your dreams. There’s a damn good reason for you staunchly refusing to return to your father. You will not swap one monster for another.

“I’ll see you soon, then.” Vegha studies you. There’s a sadness in her brown eyes. She genuinely cares. “Take care, Y/N.”

“I will.” You force a breezing smile. “And you, also.”

She inclines her head, and then she’s slipping out of the room. The silence only gives way for your too-near dreams to dig their claws in. You scrub your hands harshly over your face and push to your feet.

You don’t know where you’ll go. It’s tempting to ignore Lord Devlon’s warning and race back to the cottage. Drama may await you there — a total mess that you somewhat made for yourself — but at least you’d be warm and safe while facing it.

You can’t — you know you can’t. You don’t want Az or Cass or Rhys to face any consequences.

So after you get yourself ready and gather what little stuff you have, you head out into the snow and hope you won’t be sleeping in it that night.

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Azriel strikes at the sparring dummy as if it fucked his wife and stole his seat at the dinner table.

The damn things are supposed to be bolted to the ground, but a couple of bolts are no match against the fearsome shadowsinger.

He strikes and strikes until the object is more or less obliterated, because fuck the sparring dummy, that’s why. Fuck the sparring dummy, and fuck Lord Devlon, and fuck—

“I think you made your point.” A trilling voice cuts through his red mist of rage. “How about you set the sword down and have some water?”

Perhaps it’s just Azriel’s anger thinking for him, but he doesn’t feel that Kaeda has been particularly helpful from where she’s perched atop a smooth rock. She cleans her nails with the tip of a dagger and stretches her wings out around her.

Across the ring, Cassian watches and turns to Rhysand. “Why is she allowed to be here, but Y/N isn’t?”

Rhys shrugs his tense shoulders. He doesn’t know the answer.

The two of them step closer to where their brother is trying to breathe through his fury. He’s not coping so well.

See, Azriel has experience with missing things. He misses his mother all the time. Sometimes it’s a dull ache, manageable amongst the mundane comings and goings of life. Other times, it hurts so bad that he doesn’t think clawing his chest open would be too extreme a reaction. Missing a person is a sensation that knits itself under his skin and seeps into the marrow of his bones. It’s relentless and hideous.

Missing Y/N is a new kind of torture he never contemplated having to face.

It’s not just that he’s worried about where she is, whether or not she’s safe and well. It’s that he misses the silliest, tiniest things about her that he didn’t even know he’d ever noticed in the first damn place. The rapt determination with which she cuts the crusts off her bread because that’s a little too much bread for her. The way she gestures wildly with her hands whilst passionately talking about things. That ruined, tattered journal she carries around in which she scrawls blunt, one-sentenced, sometimes unintelligible thoughts. And her scent — gods, her scent.

It has been one week — an amount of time he’s spent away from her before. But it’s different this time. This isn’t like being away on a training exercise and knowing he’ll soon be coming home. He knows nothing. Doesn’t even know what to think, what to feel.

Other than an overt urge to murder the camp lord. Violently.

“How about we get done here and head to the mead hall?” Kaeda breaks through his warring thoughts. “I’m starved.”

Az grabs a nearby rag, wiping the sweat from his face. “Not really hungry.”

There’s a pause. And then a soft sigh leaves the female. She sheathes her blade and pushes to her feet, just as Rhys and Cassian are approaching. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, Azriel, but you can’t be visiting my father with this attitude.”

At once, this grabs the other two males’ interests, and Azriel wants to groan. Right. He’d forgotten about that.

“What’s this?” Rhys frowns, staring between Az and Kaeda. “You’re returning to Fenlaros?”

“My father invited Azriel to dine with us, that’s all.” Kaeda answers for him.

It had genuinely slipped Azriel’s mind. Amongst everything else waging war in his thoughts, a dinner with Kaeda’s family in Fenlaros had sunk right to the bottom.

But he knows immediately how it looks. That he’s being secretive.

Rhys studies Azriel closely. “And you’ve cleared this with Devlon?”

No, no he hadn’t. Quite simply, he’s not sure he can be within twenty feet of the bastard, right now, without throttling him.

He hates himself for it — he really, truly does. But for the sake of sparing himself a lecture, he shrugs. “I have.”

He does not lie to his brothers. And they can smell that lie on him right away.

Cassian stares at Kaeda for a long moment, before turning towards Az. “That is a fucking terrible idea, and you know it.”

“It’s dinner.” Kaeda shoots back.

Cass grits his teeth. “I’m talking to Azriel.”

“Listen, Cassian—”

“Excuse me—I’m sorry to interrupt.”

All four of them turn in the direction of the intrusion —and they stop short.

All three of the males know Vegha, of course. Rhys was grateful that she’d so willingly opened her home to Y/N when he’d asked. But other than that, they’ve only spoken to her in passing — she’s never had reason to seek them out before.

But what adds a slither of urgency to her rare appearance at the training rings is the even rarer appearance of the two little girls who hold her hands. They’re not supposed to be here, and Vegha knows this well.

She obviously deemed whatever this is urgent enough to bypass that rule.

“Vegha.” Azriel steps forward, studying her closely. “Is all well?”

Vegha shifts on her feet, clutching tighter onto the girls’ hands. She’s never comfortable here, around all these males, but it’s a different unwanted attention that makes her want to turn and leave.

Kaeda eyes her head to toe with a look of distaste. Of mistrust. She folds her arms and flares her wings — a gesture that has the little girls gasping.

“Settle down.” Vegha squeezes their hands. She directs her attention back to the males. Strange, that she feels more comfortable with them than she does with the only other female present. “Honestly, Azriel, I’m not at all sure.”

Rhys steps forward. “Is it Y/N?”

Cassian swears — swears — that a small sigh comes from behind him. From Kaeda.

“I know you’ve been instructed to stay away, and I don’t wish to cause you any trouble.” Vegha tells them. “It’s just…well, she was staying at my home this past week, as you asked, Rhysand. I told her she was welcome for as long as she needs — that she mustn’t return to her father’s house. But just this morning, she suddenly announced that she was leaving…that she’d found somewhere else to stay.”

“And?” The word slips from Kaeda’s lips.

Yeah, Cass definitely isn’t in the mood for this today.

“And…and I’m not sure I believe her.” Vegha shrugs slowly. “My brother wasn’t exactly making it a pleasant stay, and I think she was desperate to get out of there. But I can’t imagine where she’d go. I just…thought I should tell you. You know her better than I do.”

True — except her three closest friends can’t imagine where she’d go, either, if not back to her father’s house. And they can’t imagine her resorting to that.

She has no money for a room at an inn. She doesn’t have a long list of friends who will open their homes up to her. And she most certainly can’t go back to Rhys’s mother’s cottage.

So…where? Will she pitch up in one of the abandoned tents across the camp? Will she spend her nights shivering in doorways and wondering where her next meal is coming from?

This is fucking ridiculous.

She can’t be left to live like this.

“You did the right thing, telling us.” Rhys reassures Vegha. He offers a gentle, soft smile to the girls at her sides. “How about you take these two back into the warm? We’ll deal with it.”

Gods, he’s already a High Lord through and through. Calm in the face of turmoil. Not letting on to his inner panic.

Vegha dips her chin. “Sorry, again, for interrupting.” She tugs gently at the children’s’ hands. “Come, girls.”

Rhysand’s brow furrows. Vegha is perhaps the only other good friend Y/N has in this place. There’s no way she’s made other arrangements — Rhys knows it. Cassian knows it. Azriel knows it.

“We’ve got to do something.” Azriel voices what they’re all thinking, a feral panic colouring his tone. “We can’t just leave her to face this on her own. Fuck what Devlon says. I’m not sitting back and letting her freeze or starve to death.”

Rhys chews his lip. “…I can try to speak with my father. But I’m not hopeful where he’s concerned. This falls under Devlon’s jurisdiction.”

“All Y/N needs is a roof over her head and some food in her belly until we can work out what to do next.” Cassian crosses his arms over his chest. “There’s got to be some way we can help. Is there not any clue of where she might go?”

The two males are looking at Az expectantly. If anyone knows, it’s him.

But he’s just…he’s not had his eye on the ball recently. His thoughts are all over the place. Perhaps he’s neglected his friendships a little — because he could swear he knows Y/N inside and out, and yet his mind is blank. Utterly fucking blank.

“I—I need to think.” He runs a hand through his hair, turning — he stops at the flash of red hair that meets him. He’d forgotten Kaeda was even there.

She stares between them, saying nothing, her face pinched and arms crossed. What she’s thinking, Az isn’t sure. But a thought suddenly strikes him.

“Kaeda.” He faces her properly. “Can’t you house Y/N in Fenlaros for the time being? Until this is sorted?”

Kaeda stops short. Blinks at him. “…What?”

“It doesn’t have to be your home, or…or even anything extravagant. Just somewhere she can sleep. There are surely more options in Fenlaros than there are here.”

Kaeda does not like this one bit. A negative reaction is rippling off her in waves, and it hits Cassian like a blast of cold air. Rhys, too.

But Az seems oblivious.

“Azriel…” The female keeps her voice calm, measured. “You know it isn’t that easy. A person can’t just…defect to another camp.”

“She wouldn’t—”

“So what’s your excuse?” The words are falling from Cassian’s lips before he can stop himself. He’s not sure he cares.

Kaeda pauses. Her face is a sheet of wide-eyed innocence as she turns to him. “Pardon me?”

Cass shrugs one shoulder. “You’ve been buzzing around here for months like a fly. What’s your excuse, if that’s not allowed? Because your father may be Lord of Fenlaros, sweetheart, and he may let you do whatever you want, but look around you. This is Windhaven. His word doesn’t mean shit here.”

Azriel takes a step towards him. “Cassian—”

“Either help our friend, or stay the fuck out of it—”

“Cassian, that is enough—”

“It’s fine, Azriel.” Kaeda’s voice is so deceptively warm, you could melt butter on it. She steps towards Cassian, face open, hands held up in a placating manner. “It’s fine. You’re right. I understand you’re upset, and I…I apologise if my presence here has been burdensome. Of course I’ll help any way that I can. I’ll talk to my father right away.”

Cass doesn’t feel particularly satisfied by that. Doesn’t believe a fucking word, to be honest. His eyes communicate that as he stares the female up and down.

“Cass, I think you should apologise.” Azriel says.

He barks a laugh. “No chance.”

“Kaeda just said she’d help—”

“Enough.” Rhys finally jumps in. His tone is laced with authority — just a smidgen of an idea of what he might one day be like as High Lord. He crosses his arms and glares the three of them down as though they’re bickering younglings. “Arguing back and forth will do nothing to help Y/N. We need to act. I will speak to my father. Kaeda will speak to hers. Az, you should see if you can find out where Y/N might have gone. Cass, I want you making sure she doesn’t go anywhere near her fucking father’s house. By the end of the day, we should have at least sorted something. Understood?”

Cass doesn’t look away from Kaeda. He can see her eye twitching — the way she so desperately wants to push back against being ordered. Gods, how Az can’t see right through her, he has no clue—

“Understood.” Azriel answers without hesitation. “I’ll get right on it.”

Rhys inclines his head. “As will I.”

“And I’ll head back to Fenlaros.” Kaeda adds.

Cassian merely shrugs. “Fine.”

Without goodbyes, Azriel is shooting into the skies — probably hoping to get an aerial view of a sodden, freezing Y/N traipsing through the snow.

Rhys looks between Cassian and Kaeda for a beat longer before he disappears, winnowing — Cass assumes — straight to Velaris.

And then there were two.

Kaeda turns back to Cass. The doe-eyed look on her face is instantly gone. There’s a hint of a damn smirk.

“Whatever game you’re playing at,” Cassian clenches his jaw. “You will not win.”

A soft hiccup of a laugh escapes the redhead. “Oh, yes I will.” She steps closer. Close enough for her cotton-and-powder scent to envelop the male. “See, I always get what I want. Always.”

“Not this time. Azriel may not see you for the viper that you are, but I do.” He grits his teeth. “And I will fucking destroy you before you cause any damage.”

Green eyes glitter back at him. The female is unperturbed by the threat — and she knows he means it. There’s even a change in her scent that makes Cassian’s nostrils flare. A darker one. A muskier one.

“Oh, Cassian, I do hope so.” She says, and pushes up so her lips are at his ear. Her full breasts brush his chest. “I love a male who’s willing to punish me.”

She winnows away before the snarl has a chance to claw up Cassian’s throat.

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This is starting to feel like a bad idea.

It was easy, from the warmth and comfort of Vegha’s home, to convince yourself you’d be fine out amongst the wilds of the camp. But the old armoury is dark, dingy and cold, and within hours, you’re not sure you have the resolve for a single night there. Let alone however many you have ahead of you.

This used to be a place of mischief, when you and your friends were children. This far end of the camp has sat abandoned and unused for years, after newer, more effective training rings were installed where the hub of activity now lays. The four of you would spend days here, playing pretend with the old, wooden practice swords that were left behind. You’d make up stories of the area being haunted by the ghost of an ancient, disgruntled Camp Lord. And as you got older, it became a place to come and get drunk, to speak words and secrets that remained there, never to be carried away with you.

You won’t be bothered here, you know — nobody ventures this way. But that, and the fact that the old armoury affords you a roof over your head, are about the only positives. You’re so cold that it hurts. You’re hungry and miserable and tired in a way that has nothing to do with nightmare-filled sleeps.

And gods, you miss your friends. You miss them so much, it‘s a gnawing ache. All those nights you took for granted, tucked up warm in the cottage, Cassian making you all laugh with his antics. Those times seem so distant, now. Is this how it will be, from now on? Never did you think you’d be separated from your friends. And you don’t even know if this is a permanent thing. Will you have to wait and wait until Rhysand is High Lord and able to make decisions, before you can see them again?

These thoughts will do you no good. They’ll only make you colder and drive you to shed tears that you’re not sure you have the energy to shed.

You bundle in your blanket, squeezing your eyes shut as though that fruitless act will shield you from the cold. You were tempted to build a fire, but the last thing you want is to draw attention from anyone flying above. Being found in here will just bring you more trouble you don’t need.

You’re already hunched as it is, gloved hands buried under your armpits — but you somehow manage to tense even more when you hear the distinct sound of boots traipsing through the snow outside.

No.

You can’t do this — not right now. Nobody fucking comes here. Is the Mother laughing at you from above and sprinkling more misfortune into your already-dire existence? You can’t handle a confrontation, can’t handle being told you can’t stay here—

But the door creaks open, and it’s Azriel’s face that peers around cautiously. You almost sob with relief.

“Thank fuck.” He breathes. He’s slipping inside, shutting the door behind him. In a few great strides, he’s in front of you and dropping to his knees. “Are you alright?”

If you speak, you might crack. You risk it all the same. “How did you find me?”

“Took me a while to think of this place, I must admit. It’s been a long while since we were last here.”

But find you, he did. And fuck, his scent and natural warmth are swarming you. It feels like nothing else matters right then. Just you and him, like it’s always been. He yanks you into a hug, and you don’t stop him.

“You’re frozen.” He whispers, squeezing you. His gloved hands rub at your arms, your back, your shoulders. He pulls away to cup your face, and he studies every inch of it. You’re not sure what for.

But you stare back. You don’t know what to do or say. That could be the cold making it difficult to think, or it could be this weird wedge between you that feels like it’s only growing.

Az leans closer, and he presses his forehead against yours. “I miss you.” His gloves brush over your cheeks. “Gods, I miss you. So much.”

“I miss you, too.” You shudder. The words are weighty and truthful, not just referring to this past week apart, but to whatever has been going on for a while, now. You didn’t mean for it to be like this. You just want to go back to how it was.

“I’ve thought about nothing else—” His nose bumps against yours, and one of his hands slides to the nape of your neck, kneading the skin there. “I just—just need you close to me, Y/N. Always.”

You attempt a breathy laugh. “I don’t think Devlon would agree with that.”

“Fuck, Devlon. We’re going to get around this. Rhys is going to talk to his father, and even if that fails, Kaeda is talking to hers. I reckon they’ll be able to offer you sanctuary in Fenlaros until this is sorted—”

You pull back to blink at him. Study him. “What?”

“I asked Kaeda to speak with her father on your behalf. To see if they can find somewhere for you to stay. I’m sure they can—”

“Azriel, I’m not going to Fenlaros.”

He pauses. “…If they’ll have you, Y/N, yes you are. It means you’ll be safe and warm and fed—”

“No.”

“What? Why?”

“Besides the fact that I’m already in enough trouble thanks to that place?” You pull away from him, easing to your feet. “I don’t know anyone there. And if Devlon were to find out—”

“Stop worrying about Devlon and start worrying about your safety.” Azriel, too, stands. “It’s the most logical thing.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m not going further away from you than I already am, and I’m especially not going to start playing house with your lover, Azriel, it’s odd—”

“That’s what this is about?” He cocks an eyebrow. Folds his arms. “Because you don’t want to accept help from Kaeda?”

You shrug. And just…just to give your body something to do, you begin pacing. “I’m not sure it would be very helpful at all.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You just don’t like her, do you?” He snaps. The sound is harsh, and it makes you grit your teeth. “You’re not willing to accept help that you so clearly fucking need, because you don’t like Kaeda.”

“I don’t trust Kaeda.” You whirl around to face him. “Not one fucking bit, and you shouldn’t, either.”

“Why?”

“Because none of it makes sense! Why is she here in Windhaven, Azriel? What is it she actually wants?”

It’s dangerous — the way your voices are rising in volume and echoing around the armoury. But it’s as though weeks of emotional buildup are floating to the surface, and you can’t stop them, and they’re stoking an anger that actually warms you and feels better than being cold and hungry.

Azriel shakes his head. “You’re fucking impossible sometimes, you know that? You don’t want to help yourself. It’s like you’re determined to make your life as difficult as possible, and when you’re offered help, you don’t take it. You’re impossible!”

“Yeah, Azriel, maybe I am.” You snap back. “But at least I’m not lying through my teeth like Kaeda is, and at least I don’t break my damn promises.”

Azriel stops short. Stares at you.

You and he both know you’re referring to Solstice Night. You should have confronted it before, but…but you buried it.

You’re not sure you can do that anymore.

Azriel purses his lips. And then has the nerve to state, “Things are different between you and I these days.”

“Yes.” You stare back at him. “They are.”

Your eyes are trying to communicate so much. Things are different, and it might be the boundaries you crossed, but you’re more certain than anything that it’s Kaeda’s influence. You just don’t understand why Azriel can’t see it.

You wonder what he might say yet. So much anger and pent-up frustration zips between you. Mixed with longing and missing each other. Loving each other. Wanting to scream at each other, and for each other.

And part of you wants him to spit vicious words and fight back, just for you to feel something — even though you know that’s not Azriel’s style. But you stare and stare, and neither of you speak, and then Az is shaking his head and clenching his jaw.

“I’m not arguing with you here.” He says. “It’ll only draw attention to us.”

You fold your arms. “Fine.”

“I’m going to speak to Rhys, find out what his father said. And I’ll speak to Kaeda—”

“Go right ahead. I’m still not stepping foot back in Fenlaros—”

“And I’ll bring you some blankets and food. Or Cassian will. Or…whatever.” He stops still for a second, swallowing. “But we need to fix this shit between us.”

You know that. But you’re so fucking stubborn, your own worst enemy. And right then, you want to scream. Cry. Hurt him how he hurt you.

So you say nothing. You just shrug again.

He stares, as if waiting for a better reaction. And then he shakes his head once more and turns, striding back to the door. You wonder if it’s a bad thing to let him go, like this. When will you see him again? How will things be when you see him again? You’re making it worse for yourself, for him, for both of you.

You open your mouth — to say what, you’re not sure. But you’re stopped by Az pausing with his hand on the doorknob. With his back to you, his shoulders tense. He’s frozen in place.

And then he speaks — growls — two words. “Fuck this.”

He turns, marching back over to you so fast, you don’t have time to react.

And then he’s grabbing your face, and his mouth is on yours.

azriel tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd

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quinzzelx · 17 days

Text

Shadows and Starlight

Part 2

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's Starfall and with Starfall come some unpleasant memories. But your excitement to finally see Azriel again wins you over. Catching up with your family, you find that the evening is approaching fast. What happens when Azriel returns and you finally see each other again?

Chapter 01 // Chapter 03

Word Count: 8.8K Well, this is a lengthy one.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Trauma, Flashbacks of Torture, Mentions of SA, A lot of Family bonding, Angst, Teeth rotting Fluff, and Sexual content. I have not proofread this yet, since I wanted to get this up as quickly as possible. A/N: Oh my god, GUYS!!! I am overwhelmed by the positivity and love you showered the first chapter with! You have honestly no idea how happy this makes me. I'm so glad people seem to enjoy it and I truly hope that this part will do the first one justice. Feel free to comment and share your thoughts. Feedback is always appreciated! Also, come chat with me in my inbox!

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As you wake up on Starfall morning, a sense of weariness washes over you, the remnants of a night spent tossing and turning, haunted by dreams of the past and the phantom pains that still linger in your scars. Despite the soft caress of your satin nightgown against your skin, every movement sends a twinge of discomfort coursing through your body, a reminder of the battles you've fought.

Tracing your fingertips over the pale, jagged carvings that mar your stomach, you're transported back to the horrors of Amarantha's trap, the allure of her twisted game pulling you deeper into her web with each passing moment. Rhys had begged you to stay home, his instincts warning him that something wasn't right about this meeting, this gathering, but something inside you knew that you couldn't sit idly by while he faced danger alone. And so you insisted on accompanying him, despite the protests and the danger it posed to you both. There were moments of doubt, fleeting glimpses of regret that whispered in the recesses of your mind.

Especially in the darkness of those colder, harsher nights. Nights when even the simple act of opening your eyes felt like an insurmountable task, weighed down not just by the heavy iron chains that bound you to the ground, but by the imposing weight of impending death that hung heavy on your shoulders.

Turning onto your side, you wince as you feel the numerous scars on your back, traces of the lashings you sustained at Amarantha's hands. She was cruel in her efforts to use you as a tool to hurt Rhys further, inflicting pain upon pain in her relentless quest for power. But despite the physical scars that mar your skin, it's the emotional scars that run the deepest, the memories of your shared trauma with Rhys threatening to pull you back into the depths of despair.

Your wounds festered, infected by the cruel hands of Amarantha, who took perverse pleasure in keeping them open and inflicting new ones upon you, layering pain upon pain with each lash of her whip. Faebane slowed your healing, leaving you vulnerable to the biting cold that seeped into your bruised body, each breath a struggle against the suffocating grip of agony. On one such night, Amarantha's rage burned brighter than usual, her fury directed solely at you. Bound naked to her bedpost, your emaciated form contorted in unnatural ways, the strain and angle of your bindings causing one shoulder to scream in protest. She carved vile curses into the soft flesh of your stomach, taunting you with each cruel stroke of her blade.

And then Rhys entered, his horror evident in the fleeting glimpse you caught of his face before the mask of stoicism fell back into place. But his appearance ignited something within Amarantha, sparking a twisted idea that would haunt you for years to come. Forced to watch as Rhys administered the next lashes, forced to endure the searing pain as he used his Deamanti powers on you, you felt a sliver of relief amidst the agony as his apologies echoed in your mind, his powers soothing the raw edges of your suffering. He tried numbing your pain, taking away the searing heat that your wounds imposed. But Amarantha wasn't satisfied with just inflicting physical pain – she wanted to break you completely, to strip away every last shred of dignity and humanity. And so she made you watch as she rode Rhys, fucking him without hesitation, with favor, your body still bound to the bedpost, blood dripping down your exposed skin, your chest heaving with shallow breaths. She got off on it, the hot tears running down your face, leaving streaks in the dried blood on your face. Even in your state then, your eyes beheld a promise of death. But never had you felt this helpless, having to watch as Amarantha used Rhys as her personal sex-slave. Rhys was your family, your High Lord! And all you could do was watch.

It was a night of unspeakable horror, one of the darkest moments of your life. And yet, amidst the despair, there was a glimmer of hope – She was this mad because of Feyre, because she wanted to break the curse. As you lay there, on the floor of your cell, embracing the cold arms of death, Rhys hurriedly came barging in. He knelt beside you on the cold stone floor, tears streaming down his face as he cradled your head in his hands, offering what little comfort he could in the face of such unimaginable pain.

"Gods, what have I done?" Rhys whispered, his voice choked with sorrow and regret. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I never wanted this for you. I never wanted any of this." His words were like a knife to your heart, each apology cutting deeper than the last as you struggled to cling to consciousness. "Rhys," you managed to rasp, your voice barely a whisper. "Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault." But he shook his head, his tears falling freely now as he pressed his forehead against yours. "I should have protected you. I should have never let this happen to you."

You reached up, weakly grasping his hand as you tried to offer him what little comfort you could. "It's not your fault," you repeated, your voice growing fainter with each passing moment. "I love you, Rhys. Please... don't blame yourself."

But Rhys's anguish only seemed to deepen at your words, his sobs wracking his body as he pleaded with you to hold on, to fight against the darkness that threatened to consume you both. "Please," he begged, his voice raw with emotion as he called your name. "Don't leave me. I can't bear to lose you. Please, stay with me." And as you felt the cold embrace of death drawing ever closer, you clung to his hand, drawing strength from the love and warmth that radiated from him. "I'll try," you rasped, your voice barely audible now. "I'll try, Rhys. I promise."

And with those final words, you drifted into darkness, leaving Rhys alone with his grief and his guilt, his tears mingling with yours as he prayed to the Mother for a miracle, for a chance to make things right.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you try to calm your mind, to push aside the memories that threaten to overwhelm you. Today is supposed to be a day of celebration, a time to put aside the pain of the past and focus on the joy of the present.

As someone knocks at the bedroom door, you groan, burying your face in the pillow, exhausted and emotionally drained from the tumultuous memories that still linger in your mind. Calling out for the person to enter, you brace yourself for the intrusion, the weight of the world pressing down upon your shoulders. To your surprise, it's Rhys who enters, his presence like a balm to your weary soul. As if sensing the chaos within you, he seems equally stressed by the preparations for the day, Nyx cradled in his arms. Your eyes soften when they land on the toddler, his small wings flapping excitedly as he spots you, extending his arms out in a silent plea to be held. Rhys sits down beside you on the bed, a gentle look on his face as he takes in your tired form. Nyx immediately pounces on you, his laughter filling the room with infectious joy. Despite your exhaustion, you can't help but smile at the sight of the young boy, his innocence a welcome distraction from the weight of the world.

"Hey there, little one," you murmur, scooping Nyx into your arms and showering him with kisses. He giggles in delight, his tiny hands reaching out to touch your face with a sense of wonder. Rhys watches the exchange with a soft smile, his violet eyes filled with warmth and affection. "I thought Nyx might help cheer you up," he says gently, his voice laced with concern. "It's been a rough morning, hasn't it?" You nod, unable to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions that have been swirling inside you since you woke up. But as you hold Nyx close, his laughter echoing in your ears, you feel a sense of peace settle over you, if only for a fleeting moment. Rhys leans closer, his hand finding yours on the bed, offering silent support. "Are you okay?" he asks softly, concern etched in his eyes.

You manage a weak smile, squeezing his hand in return. "I'm... trying to be," you admit, your voice tinged with exhaustion. "It's just... a lot, you know?" He nods understandingly, his thumb tracing comforting circles on the back of your hand. "I know," he murmurs, his gaze softening. "But we'll get through this, together. I promise." The weight of his words hangs heavy in the air, a silent reminder of the bond that binds you both, even in the darkest of times. "Thank you, Rhys," you whisper, your voice barely above a whisper. "For everything."

He smiles, a gentle expression that lights up his features. "Anytime," he says softly, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead. "We're in this together, remember? No matter what."

As you settle into a more comfortable rhythm, the conversation shifts to lighter topics, a welcome distraction from the weight of the morning's emotions. "So," Rhys begins, his tone lighter now, "did you hear about Cassian's little mishap with the ladder this morning?" You raise an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in your eyes. "Oh? Do tell," you urge, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. Rhys chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Well, apparently he thought he could single-handedly take on the task of putting up the decorations," he explains, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "But Feyre and Elain had other ideas."

You laugh at the mental image of Cassian attempting to navigate a ladder while Feyre and Elain guided him from below, their laughter echoing through the halls of the House of Wind. "And then," Rhys continues, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, "just as he was reaching for the top, the ladder slipped out from under him, and down he went!" You can't help but giggle at the thought of Cassian tumbling to the ground, his pride wounded but otherwise unharmed. "Poor Cass," you tease, shaking your head in mock sympathy. "I hope he's okay." The Highlord says, his smile widening. "Oh, he's fine," he assures you. "Just a bruised ego, I think."

Before you can respond, Nyx interrupts with a babble of his own, his tiny hands reaching out to grab at Rhys's hair. You laugh, gently untangling Nyx's fingers from Rhys's locks as you listen to the toddler's excited chatter. Rhys grins, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looks down at his son. "I spoke to Azriel yesterday," he says casually, shifting the conversation back to more serious matters. "He should be back today, just in time for Starfall."

You feel a surge of anticipation at the mention of Azriel's return, your heart skipping a beat at the thought of seeing him again after his absence. "That's great news," you reply, trying to keep your voice casual despite the butterflies in your stomach. "I'm sure he'll be relieved to be home." He nods, a knowing glint in his eye. "Oh, I'm sure he will be," he says cryptically, a teasing smile playing at his lips. "After all, there are certain people who have been eagerly awaiting his return."

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a smile at Rhys's playful teasing. "You're incorrigible," you tease, giving him a playful shove. "But I'm glad Azriel's coming back. It's not the same without him." The conversation ebbs into comfortable silence as you play with the toddler sat on your lap. When you notice Rhys’s eyes glaze over, the violet of his eyes dulling just slightly, you look at him with a cocked eyebrow. “Is our Highlord required somewhere?” You ask with a small smile on your lips. “Yes, I fear duty calls.”

As Rhys leaves with Nyx in tow, a sense of tranquility settles over you, the bustling energy of the morning quieting to a gentle hum. With a sigh of relief, you make your way to the bath, the promise of warm water and solitude beckoning to you like a beacon in the storm.

Sinking into the soothing embrace of the bath, the warmth seeping into your tired muscles and easing the knots of tension that had been building within you. With each passing moment, the cares of the world seem to slip away, replaced by a sense of peace and calm that settles deep within your soul. With each passing moment, you feel yourself growing lighter, the weight of the morning's emotions gradually fading into the background as you focus on the simple pleasure of being present in this moment. Only when the skin on your hands starts to wrinkle, do you decide to leave the comfort of your bath.

After drying off, you quickly set about getting ready for the day ahead. With practiced ease, you slip into your clothes, the fabric smooth against your skin as you dress. You run a brush through your hair, smoothing out any tangles and pulling it back into a simple yet elegant style. With one last glance in the mirror, you nod in satisfaction, a sense of determination settling over you. Today is a new day. Starfall to be exact. You would not let the past control the present.

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As you make your way downstairs, noon is just beginning to unfold, the soft light of the early sun filtering through the windows of the House of Wind. The air is filled with the gentle hum of activity as preparations for the evening's festivities are underway. You take a moment to admire the decorations that Cassian had so painstakingly put up, a fond smile playing at the corners of your lips as you remember his earlier mishap with the ladder. Despite the chaos of it all, there's a sense of excitement building in the air, a unmistakable energy that sets your heart racing with anticipation.

Making your way to where Feyre and Elain were sitting in the kitchen, you exchange greetings with them, falling into easy conversation. The smell of freshly brewed tea fills the air, and you can't help but relax as you sink into a chair at the table. "So, what's on the agenda for today?" Feyre asks, pouring a cup of tea for each of you.

Elain smiles softly, her doe-eyes lighting up with excitement. "I was thinking of spending some time in the gardens," she says. "I've been working on a few new plantings, and I'd love to show them to you." You nod eagerly, honestly intrigued by Elain's passion for gardening. "I'd love to see them," you reply, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Whilst you sip your tea, the conversation turns to lighter topics, and you find yourself laughing and joking with Feyre and Elain. It's moments like these that remind you of why you cherish your time with them. Suddenly, Elain's voice breaks through your thoughts, her tone soft and earnest. "I'm so glad Azriel is returning today," she says, her eyes shining with sincerity. "I've missed him." A pang of jealousy and irritation shoots through you at her words, catching you off guard. You quickly brush it off as simple irritation, unwilling to acknowledge the twinge of envy that lingers in the depths of your chest. Elain, oblivious to your internal turmoil, continues to speak, her words pulling you back into the conversation. "And I've missed you too," she adds, her voice filled with warmth and affection.

You nod, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I missed you too." But inside, you can't help but feel a twinge of envy at the thought of Elain's closeness with Azriel. Before the awkwardness can settle in, however, Elain changes the subject, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she again talks about the new plants she's planted in the gardens of the Riverhouse.

"That reminds me," you say suddenly, a spark of delight igniting within you. Your eyes sparkle as you remember the gift you brought back for Elain, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a small packet of seeds. "I found these at a market stall on the continent and thought of you. They're seeds for a flower called... um...“ you stumble over the name for a moment before recalling it. "They're seeds for a flower called Moonlight Blossoms. I thought they might be a nice addition to your garden."

Elain's eyes widen with delight as she takes the seeds from you, her expression one of pure joy. "Oh, thank you!" she exclaims, her voice filled with genuine appreciation. "I can't wait to plant these in the garden. They're going to be beautiful."

After spending a pleasant morning and noon catching up with Feyre and Elain, you accompany Elain to the garden to see her new plants. The garden is a riot of color and fragrance, and you spend a blissful hour wandering among the flowers and chatting with her about her latest botanical discoveries. As you bid Elain farewell and make your way back inside, you realize that the day has flown by in a rush of activity. You quickly run a few last-minute errands for Starfall, picking up some supplies and making sure everything is in order for the evening's festivities.

Time seems to slip through your fingers like grains of sand as you hurry through the bustling streets of Velaris, the excitement of the day building with each passing moment. Before you know it, the sun is beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the city as evening approaches.

With a sense of urgency, you hurry back to the House of Wind, eager to get ready for the evening ahead. Mor had promised to get ready together, and you don't want to keep her waiting. As you enter your room, the blond is already there, surrounded by an array of dresses and accessories strewn across the bed. She looks up as you enter, a bright smile lighting up her face.

"Hey there, gorgeous!" she greets you, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Are you ready to get glam for Starfall?" You return her smile, feeling a rush of anticipation at the thought of the evening ahead. "Absolutely," you reply, crossing the room to join her. "I can't wait to see what you've picked out." Mor gestures to the dresses laid out on the bed. "I've narrowed it down to a few options," she says, a mischievous grin playing at her lips. "But I think I already know which one I'm going to choose." You chuckle, knowing that Mor always has a flair for dramatics when it comes to dressing up. "Well, let's see them then," you tease, eager to get started.

Together, you sift through the dresses, examining each one carefully and discussing their merits and drawbacks. There are dresses of every color and style, from sleek and elegant to bold and daring. Finally, Mor settles on a stunning gown in deep maroon red, its flowing skirts and intricate beading catching the light as she holds it up.

"This is the one," she declares, a satisfied smile gracing her features. "What do you think?" You nod in agreement, admiring the dress's beauty. "It's perfect," you reply. "You're going to look absolutely stunning." Mor beams at your praise, clearly pleased with her selection. "Thanks, love," she says, reaching out to give you a quick hug. "Now, let's get you sorted out. I have a feeling you're going to steal the show tonight."

As you slip into the dress that you had bought the day before, a soft sigh escapes your lips, the sensation of the fabric against your skin sending a shiver of delight down your spine. The deep midnight blue hue wraps around you like a lover's embrace, casting an delicate glow that seems to illuminate the room. The neckline plunges low, offering a tantalizing glimpse of your cleavage. With each movement, the dress seems to come alive. Mor's eyes widen in admiration as she takes in your appearance. "Wow," she breathes, her voice filled with genuine awe. "You look absolutely stunning."

A soft smile graces your lips as you meet her gaze "Thank you, Mor," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't have found this without your help." She beams at your words, her pride evident in the curve of her lips. "It was my pleasure," she replies, her tone warm and sincere. "But really, the dress suits you perfectly. I almost forgot how it looked on you overnight."

Shortly after she also put on her dress, Mor expertly braids your hair, her nimble fingers weaving intricate patterns, you can't help but admire her skill. With each twist and turn, your hair transforms into a work of art, cascading down your back in elegant waves. You close your eyes, savoring the sensation of her touch, the gentle tugs and pulls lulling you into a state of relaxation. "Your hair is like silk," Mor remarks, her voice filled with admiration. "It's going to look stunning tonight." Once your hair is styled to perfection, Mor moves on to makeup, applying each layer with precision. The dark, alluring makeup enhances your features, accentuating your eyes and highlighting your cheekbones.

Whilst the blond puts the finishing touches on your makeup, you take a moment to admire your reflection. The sultry gaze staring back at you sends a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins, the promise of the evening ahead hanging in the air. "Ready to turn heads?" Mor asks, a playful smirk gracing her lips. "Absolutely," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Let's make tonight unforgettable."

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As you and Mor descend the grand staircase, the sounds of laughter and music fill the air, signaling the start of the evening's festivities. The House of Wind is alive with energy, the vibrant atmosphere drawing you in as you make your way through the bustling crowd. Mor heads straight for the wine table, her graceful movements drawing the attention of those around her. She expertly pours two glasses, handing one to you with a knowing smile. "To a night to remember," she says, raising her glass in a toast. You clink your glass against hers, a smile playing at the corners of your lips. "To a night to remember," you echo, taking a sip of the rich, velvety wine.

While mingling with the other guests, you can't help but notice the admiring glances and whispered compliments that follow you wherever you go. Cassian whistles at your appearance, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he offers a playful wink. Even Amren, usually reserved and stoic, can't help but be impressed. "Not bad, girl" she remarks in her typical deadpan tone, her lips quirking up in a rare smile. "You look good." While chatting with Cassian, his easy grin and infectious laughter filling the air, you can't help but feel at ease in his presence. He regales you with stories of past Starfall celebrations, each one more outrageous than the last, and you find yourself laughing along with him, caught up in the magic of the moment and the memories.

Amren stands beside him, her sharp gaze surveying the crowd with a mix of curiosity and amusement. She interjects with the occasional dry comment or witty observation, adding her own unique perspective to the conversation. Cassian nudges you playfully, a naughty glint in his eyes. "So, have you seen Az around yet?" he asks, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You roll your eyes at his question, knowing full well where he's going with this. "Not yet," you reply with a smirk. "But I'm sure he'll make quite the entrance when he does," you add, your tone dripping with playful sarcasm. Cassian chuckles, his grin widening as he leans in conspiratorially. "You know, I heard he's been practicing his dramatic entrances," he whispers, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Amren, who had been silently observing the exchange, scoffs in amusement. "Practicing? Please, Azriel was born with dramatic flair," she interjects, her voice dry as ever. You can't help but laugh at Amren's remark, nodding in agreement. "True," you concede, unable to deny the truth in her words. Cassian's grin widens, mischief dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer. "You know, Y/N, if you keep talking about Az like this, people might start to think you have a crush on him," he teases, his tone light but teasing. Mor joins in on the teasing, a playful smirk on her lips. "Oh, come on, Cass," she chimes in, "we all know Y/N's got it bad for Az. I mean, who wouldn't? He's mysterious, brooding, and let's not forget those dreamy eyes."

You roll your eyes at their teasing, but heat creeps up your neck nonetheless. "You two are insufferable," you mutter, trying to play it off coolly despite the warmth you can feel in your chest.

They share a knowing look, their grins widening. "Oh, don't be shy, Y/N," Cassian says with a wink, "we all see the way you light up whenever Az is around."

You sigh in mock exasperation, knowing there's no escaping this. "Fine, you caught me," you admit with a chuckle, "but can we please focus on something other than my nonexistent love life for once?" Mor and Cassian exchange a glance before bursting into laughter.

With an exaggerated sigh, you down the rest of your wine in one swift motion, the cool liquid soothing the annoyance bubbling within you. Setting the empty glass down, you grab another from the nearby tray, filling it to the brim with wine. Cassian and Mor exchange amused glances as they watch your reaction, but you pay them no mind, determined to drown out their taunting with copious amounts of alcohol.

As the night wears on, the rhythm of the music pulls you onto the dance floor, the enchanting melodies winding their way through the air and into your soul. Lost in the music, you move with grace and elegance, allowing the melodies to guide your every step. The lights overhead cast a warm glow on the dance floor, illuminating the faces of those around you as they sway to the music. Couples twirl and spin, lost in their own worlds of love and passion, while laughter and joy fill the air. You watch as Nesta and Cassian sweep over the dancefloor together, having the crowd watch in awe.

With each passing moment, your gaze darts from one corner of the room to the next, hoping to catch sight of him. Your heart beats faster with every shadow that moves, every figure that passes by, as you search for the one person who has occupied your thoughts all evening.

Dancing with an attractive Fae male, his presence envelops you, his hand warm against the small of your back as you sway to the soft, slow tunes. Despite your initial reluctance when he asked you to dance with him, you find yourself enjoying his company, lost in the rhythm of the music and the warmth of his gaze. His blond hair were neatly combed, his bright green eyes gentle and kind as they take in your facial features.

But as his hand begins to wander over your scarred skin, trailing dangerously close to where the fabric of your dress starts again, a shiver runs down your spine. The heat of his touch sends a jolt through you, igniting a familiar sensation. Just as you feel yourself becoming lost in the moment, a sudden shift in the air catches your attention. Without even turning around, you know he's here. As the music continues to play, you can sense him drawing closer, his presence casting a spell over you that leaves you spellbound and breathless. Just as you're about to step away, you sense a familiar presence behind you. The scent of cedar fills your senses, and you turn to find Azriel standing there, his tall frame looming over you.

Before you can even process his presence, he reaches out, gently touching your arm. "May I cut in?" he asks, his voice soft yet commanding. You meet his gaze, the intensity in his eyes sending a shiver down your spine. "Of course," you reply, unable to tear your eyes away from him. As the Fae male steps back, Azriel takes his place, his hand finding yours as he pulls you close. The music shifts to a slower, more intimate melody, and you find yourself swept up in the moment. "It's been too long," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the music. Azriel's gaze softens, his fingers tracing light patterns on your back. "I've missed you," he admits, his voice low and filled with emotion. A surge of warmth washes over you at his words, and you find yourself drawn closer to him. "I've missed you too," you confess, your heart racing in your chest. As you continue to dance, the tension between you and Azriel is palpable, crackling in the air like electricity. His hand lingers on your waist, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"I can't believe you're finally back," he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the music. You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. "I can't believe it either," you reply, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "It feels like it's been an eternity." Azriel's eyes soften, a hint of sadness flickering in their depths. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to greet you when you returned," he says, his voice filled with regret. "I wanted to be the first one to welcome you home."

You reach up, gently touching his cheek. "It's okay," you assure him, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "I know you had your duties to attend to." A faint smile plays at the corners of Azriel's lips then, and he leans into your touch. How he had missed it to feel your gentle reassuring touch. "Still, I wish I could have been here for you," he murmurs, his voice deep and husky. As the song comes to an end, you stare at each other. Reluctantly, Azriel releases your hand, his touch lingering for a moment longer before he takes a step back. The music fades into the background, drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

For a moment, the two of you simply stand there, lost in each other's gaze, the world around you fading away until there's nothing left but the space between you. Then, with a soft smile, Azriel breaks the silence. "Would you like to take a walk?" he asks, his voice gentle and inviting.

You nod, a warm feeling spreading through you at the prospect of spending more time with him. "I'd like that," you reply, returning his smile. Together, you slip away from the dance floor, the night air cool against your skin as you step out onto the balcony. The city sprawls out before you, its lights twinkling in the darkness like a sea of stars.

Feeling his gaze upon you, you can't help but shift slightly under his scrutiny, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you realize just how closely he's examining you. You bite your lip nervously, suddenly hyper-aware of every curve and contour of your body that's on display in the dress. As Azriel's eyes linger on your figure, you can't help but notice the way his gaze seems to heat up, his breath catching in his throat. A thrill shoots through you at the intensity of his stare, igniting a fire in the pit of your stomach.

For a moment, neither of you says anything, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. Then, with a slight cough to clear his throat, Azriel tears his gaze away from you, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice husky with emotion. "I didn't mean to stare." You shake your head, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. "It's okay," you reply softly. "I... I don't mind."

You reach out tentatively, your hand finding his arm in a comforting gesture. "Azriel," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, "there's something I've been wanting to tell you." He turns to face you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. "What is it?" he asks, concern lacing his every word. You take a deep breath, summoning all your courage. “I-“ Before you can finish your sentence, the door to the balcony swings open, and Feyre steps out, her eyes widening in surprise when she sees the two of you standing there together.

"Oh, sorry," she stammers, quickly averting her gaze. "I didn't mean to interrupt." Azriel clears his throat, stepping back slightly to give Feyre some space. "It's alright," he says, his voice a little strained. "We were just... talking." she nods, though there's a knowing glint in her eyes as she looks between the two of you. "Right, well, I'll leave you two to it then," she says, retreating back inside. You and Azriel exchange a glance, a silent understanding passing between you. It seems that fate has other plans for your conversation, at least for now.

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When Azriel winnowed into Rhys's study earlier that day, he was greeted by the familiar sight of his brother sitting behind the desk, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Rhys's gaze meets his, and Azriel's eyes widen as the scent of you fills his senses, sending a jolt of anticipation coursing through him. It wasn’t dull and faded, not like the pillows in your bedroom. No, you had to have been in this room today. Rhys raises an eyebrow at his brother’s dumbfounded face, his smirk growing more pronounced. "Took you long enough to notice," he says, amusement lacing his tone.

Azriel's lips twitch into a half-smile as he strides further into the room, his movements fluid and graceful. "I was preoccupied," he replies, his voice gruff. "But I'm here now." Rhys chuckles, leaning back in his chair. "I can see that," he says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "So, how was your mission?" Azriel takes a moment to compose himself, his mind still reeling from the unexpected encounter with your scent. "Successful," he replies, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him. His resolve snapped. "But I'll fill you in on the details later. Right now, I have other matters to attend to."

Rhys arches an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "Of course," he says, his tone teasing. "Wouldn't want to keep her waiting, would you?" Azriel's cheeks flush slightly at his brother's teasing remark, but he maintains his composure. "No," he says, his voice tinged with determination. "I wouldn't."

As Azriel takes flight for the House of Wind, his mind races with a whirlwind of emotions. Excitement courses through his veins, an unexpected thrill at the thought of seeing you again after nine long months apart. He hadn't dared to hope that you would be back, hadn't allowed himself to entertain the possibility of your return. And yet, here you were, your presence filling him with a sense of longing he just started to realize he'd been harboring.

The memory of your scent lingers in his mind, haunting him with its intoxicating sweetness. It's a scent he knows all too well, one that has the power to drive him to madness with desire. Even now, as he flies through the night sky, he can't shake the memory of you, the way your scent wraps around him like a warm embrace. Only yesterday had he thought about that exact smell while fucking his hand wishing it was yours instead.

Cursing himself for his wayward thoughts, Azriel frowns, attempting to push aside the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to consume him.

As Azriel lands gracefully on the balcony of the House of Wind, he braces himself for their reunion. He had just made his way here in record time, flying like his life depended on it. His heart pounds in his chest, the anticipation of seeing you again after so long almost too much to bear. With each step he takes, his eyes scan the crowded room, searching for your familiar form amidst the mass of guests.

And then he sees you.

His breath catches in his throat as he takes you in, his brain short-circuiting at the sight of you. You’re wearing a dress, and it clings to you like a second skin, accentuating every curve and contour of your body. His gaze lingers on the scars that trail across your back, a witness to the battles you had fought and the strength you possess. But it's not just your appearance that captivates him. It's the way you move, the grace and confidence with which you carry yourself, as if you own the very air around you. And you do, completely oblivious to the hungry and captivated stares you gain, turning heads everywhere you appear. Then his attention finally shifts to the Fae dancing with you, his hand lingering dangerously close to your exposed skin, and a surge of possessiveness courses through him. You’re wearing his colors, he realizes with a jolt, a flicker of irritation igniting within him at the thought of someone else daring to touch what belongs to him. A growl rumbles in Azriel's chest, low and threatening, as the surge of jealousy within him reaches a fever pitch. He takes a step forward, hazel eyes blazing with anger, his wings flaring out instinctively behind him.

But before he can make his move, Mor appears at his side, a knowing smirk on her lips as she nudges him playfully. "Easy there, big guy," she says, her voice low and playful. "No need to start a brawl on Starfall."

Azriel grits his teeth, torn between his desire to protect what's his and the knowledge that Mor is right. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to reign in his emotions. While Azriel briefly exchanges pleasantries with Mor, his mind is consumed by thoughts of you. He can hardly focus on their conversation, his attention drawn inexorably back to where you stand across the room. He can feel his Illyrian instincts surging to the forefront, urging him to claim what's rightfully his. Shadowy tendrils dance around him frantically, pushing, pulling, as if they too wanted him to whisk you away from the other male’s embrace.

Finally having had enough, he excuses himself from Mor's company. Azriel prowls across the room with purposeful strides. His presence alone is enough to send a ripple of unease through the crowd, his menacing aura palpable as he approaches. When he reaches your side, the Fae male dancing with you seems to shrink back in fear, intimidated by the intensity of Azriel's gaze. But Azriel pays him no mind, his attention wholly consumed by you.

His shadows whispering words of possession and desire in his ears, chanting “Beautiful, beautiful” over and over. ”Ours, ours” Azriel can hardly contain the primal urges that surge within him. All he can think about is claiming you, marking you as his own for all the world to see. And as he draws closer, the air crackling with anticipation, he knows that he won't be satisfied until you’re in his arms, where you belong. He just wants to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck. Suppressing a groan, he twirls you around, his hands easily finding their way onto your hips, softly squeezing them while leading the dance.

When the song came to an end, he felt like he was stood in the summer courts afternoon sun again. He needed some fresh air, some more quietness, and he selfishly wanted to be the sole bearer of your company.

By the Cauldron, as you made your way onto the balcony, him trailing behind you a few steps, he silently swore under his breath. Suddenly he was questioning his decision to be alone with you. Again, he asked himself why. Why have the last nine months been such a torture? Why did it feel like there was no oxygen left in his lungs when you and Mor had winnowed away and departed for your mission? And only now could he breathe again, truly breathe. And with every inhale, the scent of sweet lilies and freshly fallen rain assaulted his senses, clawing into the very essence of his being.

Only as you shifted on your feet slightly did he notice that he was straight up staring at you. Shit. As a soft blush made its way onto your cheeks then, he wanted to melt. Did you like the way he looked at you? Had the past nine months felt as maddening for you as they had felt for him? Questions upon questions infiltrated his mind as you looked upon Velaris together. And when you spoke again, wanting, no, needing to tell him something, he felt his stomach drop. Had you found someone on the continent?

When Feyre interrupted you mid-sentence solely by appearing, he didn’t know if he should curse or thank her for the disturbance. But the way your brows furrowed and how the light in your eyes ebbed out a little bit, made him feel a pang in his chest.

He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the sudden tension that had settled between you. And as Feyre excused herself again, he spoke up. "What were you saying?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He needed to know, needed to hear your words, even if they shattered his heart into a million pieces. You hesitated for a moment, the words caught in your throat as you searched for an excuse, anything to deflect from the truth. "It's nothing," you replied, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Just... something I've been thinking about lately. But it's not important." A lie.

He studied your expression, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features before he masked it with a small smile of his own. "Alright," he murmured, though he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to your words than you were letting on. Turning back to Azriel, you couldn't help but notice the way the moonlight danced across his features, casting a soft glow around him that made your heart flutter again.

"You know," he began, breaking the comfortable silence between you, "I never expected to find you here tonight. It's... a pleasant surprise."

You chuckled softly, the sound carrying on the gentle breeze. "Well, it's not every day that we get to celebrate Starfall together," you replied, a hint of warmth in your voice. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." There was hidden meaning in your words that he didn’t fail to miss.

His eyes softened at your words, a silent understanding passing between you. "I'm glad you're here," he murmured, his gaze never leaving yours. "It wouldn't be the same without you."

Wearing a tender smile, Azriel reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against yours. "You look beautiful tonight," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. A soft blush crept onto your cheeks at his compliment, and you couldn't help but return his smile. "Thank you," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity. "You don't look too bad yourself."

He chuckled softly, the sound like music to your ears. "High praise coming from you," he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement. You laughed, a light and carefree sound that echoed in the night air. "Well, I do have good taste," you quipped, nudging him playfully.

With trembling hands, you reached out to touch him, your fingers grazing lightly against his cheek as you traced the contours of his face. His eyes fluttered closed at your touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he leaned into your caress. Every nerve in his body seemed to come alive at your gentle caress, his senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating sensation of your touch. With a shaky breath, he opened his eyes, meeting your gaze with a depth of emotion that words could not express. In that moment, he felt as though he could drown in the ocean of your eyes.

With a tender yet sure touch, Azriel pulled you into his embrace, his arms enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and safety. The scent of cedar and winter air surrounded you, his presence filling every corner of your senses. Azriel can't help himself, his urge to feel you pressed against him. He had missed you too much, and the way you just looked at him had him questioning why the hell he waited so long to do this. His hazel eyes glint as he lets them roam over your face, examining the gentle curve of your full lips, dipping down to follow the line of revealed skin, ending where your breasts are pressed firmly to his chest. The intensity of his stare sends shivers down your spine, your skin tingling with a delicious combination of desire and longing.

With each passing moment, the space between you seems to shrink, until there is barely a breath of air separating your bodies. You can feel the heat emanating from him, warming you from the inside out. His eyes, darkened with lust, hold you captive, their intensity rendering you speechless. You can't help but shiver under his gaze, your entire being yearning for the touch of his lips against yours.

As he leans in closer, his brows furrowed in concentration, you can't help but tremble under his touch. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, a subconscious gesture. You feel the gentle pressure of his body against yours, his warmth seeping into your skin as he presses you back against the railing. Unable to contain the rush of emotions coursing through you, a soft whimper escapes your lips. "Azriel." His name leaves you sounding more like a soft whine than anything else. He inhales sharply, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath as he savors the way his name rolls off your tongue. "say it again." he pleads, his voice husky with longing, his grip on you tightening ever so slightly. "Azriel..." You breathe out again. A sinful moan escapes his lips at the sound of his name spoken by you, his head bowing forward as he presses his forehead against yours. Your hands claw at his chest, fisting his shirt.

“Can I kiss you?” Azriel’s voice sounds strained as he asks you. All you can manage is a whimpered “Please.” And that’s all he needs, as if your words just shattered his restraint, he surges forward, capturing your lips with his own. You melt into each other’s touch, lips slanted over another, one of Azriel’s marred hands comes up to cup one of your cheeks, tilting your head back slightly to deepen the kiss. You press into him more, gasping when you feel a muscled thigh lodged between your legs, the friction causing you to shake slightly. Azriel swipes his tongue over your bottom lip then, venturing further as you gasp, tasting you. Both of you, completely tangled into each other, breathe heavily when you part. Only then do you realize that the stars had begun their journey, thousands upon thousands of bright streaks flashing through the sky.

The sparkling light of the falling stars reflected in Azriel’s eyes, making them shine even brighter than they already were. You followed his gaze as you saw his orbs wander to look behind you. The night sky shone with glittering starlight, painting Velaris in a colorful bright hue. In complete and utter awe, you shift slightly, watching the stars make their way to whatever destination. “Breathtaking.” Azriel mumbles huskily and you can’t help but agree. When you turn to face him again, you realize that he was still looking at you. A soft blush makes its way onto your already flushed face.

Azriel was a warrior, the Night Court’s Spymaster and Shadowsinger, he had fought plenty of battles before, always coming out on top and alive. But as he stared at you then, his heart rapidly beating in his chest, he found himself on his knees for the first time, loosing his restraint, loosing his composure. Because when he looked at you then, face bathed in the soft lights of the falling stars, skin flushed and lips swollen, it snapped. And when it did, everything made sense.

His eyes were wide and filled with something you couldn’t quite place. As you feel his lips crashing against yours once more, any words you might have spoken are lost in the fervor of the moment. The intensity of the kiss leaves you breathless, your mind swirling with a heady mixture of desire and adoration.

When you finally break apart, your chests heaving with the effort of controlling your racing hearts, you find yourself lost in the depths of his wide, expressive eyes. There's something in his gaze that speaks volumes, something you can't quite put into words but can feel deep within your soul. "Your face is a work of art," you whisper, the alcohol lending a soft haze to your words. Excitement clouding your head, the compliment spills from your lips. Azriel's features, sharp and defined, seem to glow with an ethereal light in the dimness of the night. His hazel eyes, like pools of molten gold, capture your gaze, drawing you in.

"Yeah?" he hums in response, his hands finding their way to the back of your thighs, pulling you closer to him. The warmth of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume every inch of your being. And when he inhales deeply, the scent of your Arousal hits him with full force and he snarls lowly. "Your legs should frame it then,"

Your breath hitches at his words, eyes widening at what he suggests. Speechless you try to regain your composure. Then, with a coy smile, you lean in closer to him, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, "Careful, Azriel. You're playing with fire." The teasing tone in your voice betrays the longing that simmers beneath the surface, aching to be unleashed.

As the flames of desire engulf you both, Azriel's lips part in a husky whisper, his voice dripping with primal need. "I don't mind getting burned," he murmurs, his breath hot against your neck. With a trembling hand, you reach up to cup his cheek, your touch gentle yet filled with an intensity that mirrors the blaze in his eyes. "Then let us burn together," you whisper.

In a raw display of desire, Azriel's demeanor shifts, his jaw clenched with a fierce determination as he gazes at you with narrowed eyes filled with unbridled hunger. Without a word, he lifts you effortlessly into his arms, his hands roaming possessively over your body as he pulls you close. With a soft gasp, you wrap your legs around his hips, feeling the heat of his body against yours as you press closer together. The sensation of his hands wandering to your ass, squeezing firmly, sends a shiver of anticipation coursing through you.

In the blink of an eye, Azriel winnows you away. The world blurs around you, the sensation of movement disorienting yet thrilling. Before you can fully comprehend the transition, you find yourselves standing in the intimate sanctuary of his bedroom. Around you, the air is charged with anticipation, heavy with the promise of what is to come. Azriel's gaze meets yours, smoldering with desire as he sets you down gently on the bed, his hands still lingering on your hips. And as he looks at you then, looking deep into your eyes to search for any hesitation or regret on your part, you speak.

“Claim me.” Your voice is confident and soft. “I’m yours, Mate.”

With a primal growl, Azriel's restraint shatters, consumed by the raw, unbridled desire coursing through his veins. He leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, a fierce hunger driving his movements. In that moment, there is no holding back, no inhibitions—only the primal instinct to claim you as his own.

☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆●~☆~●~☆~☆~●~☆

I Can't believe it!! What do you guys think? Let's just say Part 3 will be very steamy. I truly hope you enjoyed reading this.

Tag-list:

@impossibelle @paleidiot @tele86 @namelesssaviour @sstrohma @that-one-little-soybean @mybestfriendmademe @durgenyx @shinyghosteclipse @katherinejess

#azriel x reader #azriel acotar #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel fluff #azriel smut #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster #reader insert #imagine #rhysand #cassian #nesta archeron #feyre archeron #elain archeron

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bloodycassian · 2 months

Text

To be Wed -

Azriel x Reader x Rhysand - NSFW/MDNI 18+ 18+ 18+

Plot - Reader is caught stealing and is being punished in town square when Rhys comes in. He however has another motive, aside from being a sympathetic high lord.

THEMES/WARNINGS - knotting/different shaped Illyrian dicks. Breeding kink (kind of - not mentioned in scene.). ‘Forced’ sex due to circumstance. Voyeur. Cuckholding. Shadow play. Slight anal. Rough sex. Bondage. Public humiliation(slightly). Multiple POV. P IN V. Oral. Body worship. Possible themes of CNC?

Please do not read if you are easily triggered by any of these themes or anything remotely close - make good choices :) skip to ++++++++ for just the naughty bits.

NSFW - 18+ , MDNI

This is my Court. Rhys told himself that over, and over again. He had to be stable to rule. His people relied upon it. Azriel had even noticed his wavering anger and had suggested this. This was for his court.

This was for his pleasure, as well. He fucked into the mouth of the whore he’d hired, and tossed her aside when he couldn’t finish. He needed more, something to get his mind away from the demands of politics and what an open ended rule he had. Something to get his mind off the words Azriel had said.

“A king without heir is what every opponent wishes for. Perhaps it is time-”

Azriel had shut his mouth after Rhys’s snarl. He wouldn’t go about impregnating females just for his lineage. Just to remain in control of his Court. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he could have children. After more than a few mishandled one night stands, there’d never been a bastard born prince.

But had Azriel been right? Was it time to try for an heir? Even if it wasn’t with a mate or even a dedicated partner? He’d house the female and take good care of her, surely. His heir would need to be strong, after all. The idea entertained him for longer than he’d like, as he paid the female and dismissed her. His cock was barely hard, still covered in her saliva. He grimaced.

On his walk back to his townhome, Rhys passed the shops, hiding his face from passersby. Some still noticed him. One of them, the punisher on the corner. He tried to slide away, but the male caught him before he could disappear into the crowd.

“Ah, the high lord himself, here to make an example of those whos intentions are against his Court!” The male announced, earning applause from the surrounding crowd.

Rhys lifted his gaze, waving with a pressed smile. When he spied the male on the raised platform, then looked towards the headstalls to his side, Rhys breath was knocked from him.

His cock surged immediately. A perfect, gorgeous body lay trapped here, craning her neck to look at him. Her hair was a mess, her cheeks rosy and bitten from the cold. Her dress was not nearly long enough for this weather, and a part of Rhys roared at that. In both arousal, and outrage that this male would have her up there-

He was at the podium before he realized, rage lacing his words. “Release her. Now.” His command was final, and the round male only gave him a confused look.

He gestured to her with a paddle. “She was caught stealing-”

“You defy your high lord?” Rhys’s mind-voice broke through the thin walls of his shields, and the male flinched, startled.

She was unbound from the headstock in just a few seconds. He took her by the elbow, and brought her before the crowd. “There’s been a misunderstanding. She was merely acting as a thief, so we could be sure our loyal city guards were following their orders.” He announced, smiling brightly towards the male with the paddle. The urge to rip into his flesh was astounding.

“Thanks to our watchful security, we’re keeping Velaris safe. Thank you all!” He called, waving for a moment longer. He dared a glance to the red faced female at his side, noting her shimmering eyes and the way she stared at him. Gods those lips, the mouth half open in utter befuddlement - he tore them away into a shadow before the crowd could notice the growing bulge in his trousers.

She fell onto the floor the moment they landed in his townhome, gasping for breath and steadying herself before standing. “What- the-” She panted, pushing herself to her hands and knees.

Rhys barely resisted the urge to fold that dress over and take a long look at what he’d brought into his home. To taste what he had imagined on that stage. His hands balled into fists for a moment, his nails biting into the flesh before he helped her up.

“This is the wife you find yourself, Rhys?” Az made his presence known in the doorway, earning a low growl from Rhys.

“Wife?!” She squeaked, her voice breaking slightly. She stepped away, knocking into the couch and nearly stumbling over again.

“Forgive him. Im sorry-” Rhys glared towards Azriel, then took her hand. The shadowsinger grinned, and chewed on another piece of apple while he watched the exchange. “I- my mind is a bit lost at the moment.”

“Clearly.” She snorted. “A high lord’s wife wouldn’t be strung up in the center of town for stealing. Your type are called Rulers for that. Royals.”

Azriel laughed, loud and surprised. “Maybe you should propose, Rhys. She’ll set you straight.”

“We try not to rule in that way.” Rhys muttered. “What were you stealing?”

“Clothes.”

“Do you need clothes?” Rhys took another glance at the exquisite dress she wore, wanting to admire it at the same time as rip it off of her.

She shied, her hands going to cross over her chest. “I dont see why that’s important.” She answered.

“Because he’s looking for a surrogate, of sorts. Someone to birth his children.” Azriel answered quickly, ignoring the deathly look Rhys shot at him.

She flinched, and unfolded her arms, revealing a sliver of a knife in her hand.

“You’d be well paid. Taken care of. You and the child both, for the rest of your days.” Azriel barreled on, pushing off the wall and going to join Rhys. He bumped the male with his shoulder, and took a breath, scenting her. “And, if you’d like-” Azriel lowered his voice, stepping closer to her, despite the knife. He leaned in, closer and closer until he hovered just over her ear.

“You’d be able to have more than just him.”

Her breath hitched. The knife clattered to the floor, and Azriel’s huff of a laugh ghosted over her ear.

++++++++++++

“Is there a contract for this or is it just your word?” You asked skeptically.

Rhys reluctantly looked to Azriel, assuming the male had this planned for much longer than Rhys realized. The male snapped and a pen and paper appeared on the desk you sat adjacent to. Rhys groaned.

Azriel had had this planned for much, much longer than Rhys had given him credit for.

“This agreement will span your lifetime, and the lifetime of the potential heir should they remain loyal to the Court. Should you or the child abandon the Night Court, it will be nullified.” Azriel explained briefly.

You weighed the words, bewildered still at how quickly your day had turned around.

“You don’t have to make a choice now.” Rhys said. But if you denied them, where would that leave you? To be begging and making your money on the streets again? Stealing had been a fine trade, but now because of the High Lord’s announcement, there would be no way any other smugglers or traders would make business with you again.

“I’ll do it.”

“Thank the Mother-” Azriel blew out in a breath.

“I think you should think about this more.” Rhys argued at the same time.

“There’s nothing to think about. I bare your children and I receive a life that I’ve been struggling for since I was a child. I am ready for that life to begin.”

You didn’t care if it was reckless or stupid or outright dangerous. You’d done worse for less. Having a guaranteed way to wealth and power with bearing a High Lord’s heir was the gift you’d been waiting for over two centuries for.

You picked up the quill and signed your name. A dull throbbing erupted along your collarbone, and you pulled back the thin part of your dress to see whirling ink there. “A deal made in truth.” Rhys nodded slowly, and stood from the end of the bed. Azriel seemed to melt into the background as the high lord of the night court approached you, heat flaring from him as he neared. Was he sick? Your eyes darted to his hands, where they rolled into fists at his sides.

Slowly, a tingling in stomach grew stronger. Searing down from your collarbone, into the pit of your stomach, it grew. You rubbed your thighs together in your seat, embarrassed of the scent that you knew was rolling off of you in waves.

As soon as he was close enough to smell it, Rhys was on his knees before you. He gripped your knees and pulled them apart, sending sparks up your spine and forcing your arousal to a nearly painful peak. You panted, curling inward trying to protect yourself from the male you hardly knew.

His hand pressed against your chest, gently holding you back as his other hand slipped between your thighs, his fingers dragging over the wetness he found there. A low growl reverberated in his throat. “A deal has been struck.” He said, lifting his chin to watch you as he flicked a finger over your clit.

A jolt of hot, spiked pleasure had you rolling your hips into his hand, wishing you had some kind of power here. Some way to manipulate him just as he was doing to you. You glanced to Azriel, who’d practically made himself invisible in a corner.

Rhys caught the look, and followed your eyes. “Is that what you want?” He hummed, his finger circling you slowly, before dipping down to your entrance, prodding there lightly. You couldn’t help but nod, your throat suddenly dry.

Rhys hummed again, and withdrew his hand from your dress. He hauled you up from the chair by your elbow, and brought you to the edge of the bed where he’d been sitting. He knocked your knees apart and guided you lean over, so your chest and head were supported by the bed. So vulnerable like this, so… deliciously at his will. He must have sensed your spike in arousal, because there was a weight that covered your wrists and neck then - just like the pillory in the courtyard had been like.

“Is that why you picked me?” You questioned, voice rough with dryness.

He stepped away, and you half expected him to bring a paddle down on you. A new rush of desire coursed through your cunt, making you a quivering, wet mess. The anticipation for it, for anything had you arching, wanting - needing so badly. The coldness made your body ache for someone to touch. You nearly pushed yourself up from the bed, but then there was a set of hands on your lower back, tender hands grazing over you there.

Then Rhysand appeared before you on the bed. Your stomach dipped and rolled, surprise rippling through you. Azriel’s cold shadows licked up your shins, wrapped around your immobilized forearms and locked them in place. “Fuck-” You panted, shooting Rhysand a curious - and likely, panicked - look as he watched, eyes dark and hooded while Azriel knelt behind you.

His tongue was immaculate. Your legs nearly gave out at the first stroke, but you resorted to arching, rocking back as much as you could to get him just as you wanted him. He gripped your ass tight in his palms, leaving red marks when he occasionally slapped there. You hadn’t been so fucking desprate for something before. So aching for something inside of you.

All the while, Rhysand watched. He flexed, gripping his cock tight and watched, nearly unblinking as Azriel feasted upon you from behind. The tip of him grew wet quickly, and he used it to wetten the rest of his shaft, from the soft pointed tip to the slight bump near the base where the tie was.

You’d never been fucked by an Illyrian before, let alone two. Your mind went fuzzy at thought of it. There’d always been rumors about how good of a fuck an Illyrian was, but to see the size of them in person… A delicious shudder rolled through you.

A finger dipped inside of you with brutal efficiency, curling and drawing the breath from you. Rhys’s chin tipped up, and he bit his lip. His eyes were keenly focused on Azriel, on the way the male move and lapped at you while he stretched you open with another finger.

You moaned, and moaned as the shadowsinger brought you to near completion, then stopped. You nearly stomped your feet. Your body arched and practically pleaded for him to continue. He removed his fingers gently, then slapped his soaked hand across your ass. “Nice and fucking ready.” He hummed, voice husky and filled with the promise of brutal pleasure.

Rhys pulled the shadow of night over himself, and was behind her in an instant. Azriel had done good, better than Rhys would have done if he’d had the job. He wouldn’t have been able to last as long without delving into his own needs.

His hands ghosted over the perfect ass before him, admiring for a moment. Then Azriel was gripping his cock, pumping a few times. Rhys’s hands bit into her skin, earning a delectable cry that had his cock twitching in Az’s hand. A lick of his fingers and Azriel had his cock soaked with saliva, all the way to the base where the bulging roundness was growing quickly.

“Eager.” Azriel said with a grin.

Rhys didn’t have a moment to bear his teeth at the male. He was gone, then appeared again, fully nude on the bed where Rhys had been. The sight of the shadowsinger’s own reddened, growing knot was enough to send another spurt of precum from the high lord.

He slid in with ease, groaning at the heat, the grip that surrounded him. His toes curled, popping loudly. He tugged on the back of the dress, using it as a handle of sorts to pull her back onto him. Quick, efficient thrusts have him bottoming out, her slickened entrance coating the start of his knot already. His mouth waters at the sight of your bodies slamming together. The sound it makes. He stared down at the way your lips gripped him, enjoying the look of the wetness from both your bodies there.

He panted, nearly ashamed at how much he needed this. He spared a glance to Azriel, at the way the male’s smug gaze took in the entire scene before him. As if to say ‘tell me I’m right.’ in challenge to the pleasure coursing through Rhys’s veins.

His knot was beginning to catch, and he leaned forward, taking a breast into her hand and pulling. He’d have to work her open more, and quickly. He wouldn’t last much longer. He swore at himself, then vowed to make the next time last. He put a foot up near her head, arching over her to get the angle that would have him hammering into her. The moans grew louder, almost frantic. Her muscles flexed and he nearly came at the intense squeezing that her pussy gave him.

“Not yet-” He grunted, placing wet kisses at her ear. He fucked into her quickly, thrusting hard and fast until he felt his knot beginning to catch more, then he nearly stilled. He drew a calming breath, and pressed - more and more until a hiss came from her lips. He pulled out, then pressed in again, and again until the sweet, all consuming heat covered his knot.

“Fuck-” He ground out in a long breath. She was silent, eyes wide and gasping, hands grabbing for the sheets - for anything as her muscles began to quiver. A deep satisfaction took him, made him prideful that he had such a gorgeous female coming on him. He rolled his hips forward, inching in more and more - filling and stretching the pussy that clamped down on him.

Then he was cumming, spilling deep inside her. Her walls milked him, her own orgasm making her legs tremble and nearly collapse. The pull on his cock made the weakness known, and he helped hold her up by the hips. He shuddered and panted, pressing kisses to her shoulder, her hair - anywhere he could reach.

The swelling of his knot was exquisite. The tapered bulge of it fitting easily into your body, as if you were molded for him. And your desire had turned from molten and eating you alive, into a manageable flame with him bottoming out inside you. More than that alone, it was something sent from a god. Intoxicating. Mind blowing. It was a stretch that made words impossible, that made your orgasm nearly instant from the pressure of it. You weren’t sure how many times you’d cum around him by the time he was pulling out.

Wetness dripped from your hole. It dripped down your thighs and to the floor, and embarrassment would have coated you, if it weren’t for the desire still thrumming hot in your veins. With Rhysand pulling free from your grip, your body was at a loss. Greedy for more.

“She’s ready.” Rhys said, voice raspy. Your mind was slow to pick up on the fact that the two Illyrians had traded places once again.

“I thought-” You began, voice hoarse from dryness and moaning.

“You don’t want more?” Azriel asked, and he sounded genuinely confused.

A strange sound came from your throat, and your body arched back to him. “I do.. But the contract..”

His cock was inside you in the next breath, forcing any of your questions out of your mind. All that was left was the need, the overpowering heat that roared inside you. You pushed back to it, eager to take the male.

“An Heir of the night court, and anyone else you’d desire.” Azriel panted in your ear, taking you with slower, more grinding thrusts than Rhysand had. With the slickness of Rhysand’s cum and your own juices already coating you, he slipped into the pace he desired easily. “From how fucking soaked you are for me I’d say you desire me as well.”

Denying it would have been an outright lie. How could anyone not want the shadowsinger? You hummed, spreading your feet farther apart. Azriel was slightly shorter than the high lord, but not by much. The size difference was mostly in their cocks. Even with Rhysand fucking you first, breaking you open, Azriel was still a stretch. His cock rammed into that spot inside you with ease, flicking over it with every thrust.

Your hands clawed at the foot of the bed - not sure if you should cum or not, because he was getting you there quickly. His easy pace was offset with the roughness of each stroke, of how much more solid he seemed than the high lord.

The high lord who now groaned as a shadow pleasured him. Your eyes fluttered closed, trying your hardest not to come undone. Azriel’s laugh at your ear had you tightening on him, earning wet sounds from where your bodies connected. “You like that, how I play with these?” His shadows drifted up your ankles and shins, crawling extra slowly up your thighs until they reached the point where he connected with you.

“They serve you, too. Just as I do.” He said it in a voice that would have you wet instantly, in any other situation. But it was laced with deeper meaning. To serve you. To serve you as what, exactly? As your own pleasure-keeper?

A shocked gasp left you as one of the tendrils of shadow circled your other hole. Your body went taut, arching back and nearly knocking him from your pussy. “Easy-” He crooned, his voice sweet in your ear. The sensitivity was outrageous, an entirely new experience for you. It had brought you back though, to a height where you weren’t nearly on the precipice of orgasm. Your eyes watered with the stimulation, with how much pleasure the shadow brought. He slipped back inside you with ease, pressing in deep - letting you feel the way his tie was growing. The bulb there much larger than Rhysand’s had been.

The shadow circling your ass did not relent, but your body grew accustomed to it’s pressure in time with Azriel’s thrusts. You could tell it was growing larger though, from a small finger’s size to the blunt end of a smaller cock, it nudged at you. You were practically purring, content with the easy way your pleasure grew with each thrust when he pressed deep, pushing his growing knot inside you a few times.

A hum of approval rang from Rhys, who now you noticed was bound by the shadows just as much as you were. His hands were locked to his ankles behind him while he was propped on his knees, that shadow making a mess of him while he dribbled pre come and watched Azriel fuck you. The sight of him - of the high lord bound to Azriel’s wishes made something deep in the pit of your stomach turn from content to ravenous.

Your walls squeezed him, urging him to fuck you faster, deeper - whatever he wanted - whatever he wanted.

Gods, that was what he wanted. He wanted Rhysand like that, to urge you on. To not only see something he liked watching, but to see if you also liked it. Pleasure-keeper indeed.

You rolled back to Azriel as much as you could, nudging that shadow into your hole slightly. You cried out, but He was pushing into you, forcing you down, down. His weight suddenly forcing you to the floor. Your hands still bound, you could do nothing but brace for the impact of your knees against the stone floor, but it never happened. The shadows gripped around your thighs, pulling them apart and holding you there, only a few inches above the floor.

The shadowsinger followed you the whole way down, the move planned and wicked. Heat pumped through you with the adrenaline, taking your arousal back to nearly the edge of the peak yet again.

His knot slid in, this time with much more resistance. “Such a fucking dirty thing aren’t you?” He said, gripping your throat in one hand and forcing you to look up, to watch as his shadows milked Rhysand.

The shadow at your hole left, no longer able to press into you with the new positioning. As much as you missed it, the stretch that Azriel’s knot was providing more than made up for the loss. He fucked into you with determination now, the width of his knot slipping in and out of your entrance with ease. He was just under the size Rhys had been when he’d locked inside of you, and still seemed to have more to give.

“Gods, you’re tight. Rhys didn’t do a good enough job breaking you in, did he?” He ground out, placing bite marks upon your shoulders. One of his hands pressed against your hip, supporting you with every snap of his hips forward. He leaned down slightly, arching over your back and raising up from his knees a bit, then buried himself in you at a brutal pace.

A cry fell from your lips at the intensity of it, at the way he seemed to know exactly what to do, where to press- You were coming undone. There was no stopping it, no way to rock or buck against him differently-

His knot swelled, catching on your lips- rubbing between them until he could no longer pull free. Your pussy sealed around him fully, covering him in your tight heat. You came, and came - knees quivering as he locked inside you. The world was nothing but heat and the crest of your pleasure and the fullness that Azriel provided for your pussy to ride out your orgasm with.

Rhys was groaning - whimpering, really, and the shadows writhed around him in such a mass that it was almost concerning. They’d allowed him some movement, so he could fuck them as he pleased, but within a few strokes, thick white cum shot from his cock. He hissed as he came, his body flexing and rolling with the orgasm.

Then, with a stuttering motion of his hips, Azriel was cumming as well. He collapsed atop you, his orgasm ripped from as your insides pressed on him, taking him for all he was able to provide. He panted, eyes blown wide, his nails leaving deep red crescents where he’d been gripping your hips. He filled you, cum leaking out even around the seal his knot had made.

The only thing he wished was for another body, so he may lick it from you. So he may lap at your clit while still seated inside, to feel how you’d react to such a thing-

Gods his cock was growing hard again just from the thought. No, no- he denied himself of it. He’d have plenty of time, in the future. He took steadying breaths and instead played with your hair,fixing how he’d mussed it and planting kisses along where he’d bitten.

He was unable to move for long, long moments. Not until Rhys broke his mental blankness to laugh - “I think I’ve made a good choice of heir-provider.”

#acotar #acotar fic #reader x azriel #abo #abo themes #acotar smut #reader x rhysand #rhysand x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x you #rhysand x you #reader insert #reader insert fic #reader insert smut #a court of thorns and roses fic #a court of thorns and roses fanfic

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munsons-hellfire · 4 months

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Forever Together 1 | Poly!Bat Boys

SUMMARY: You didn't think you'd find a mate, let alone three mates. Over the course of the decades it snaps for them first, then snaps for you one at a time until the worst possible thing could every happen. With truths revealed you can finally have the happiness you had always deserved.

PAIRINGS: Bat Boys x Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS: Wing clipping (mentioned at the beginning in detail, and mentioned somewhat through out the one shot), mentions of cheating (reader's mother), mentions of abuse (reader's father and brothers), angst, fluff, no smut.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Firstly I feel as though in some parts they might be rushed. I didn't entirely follow the books except for the ending of the third one and I did change the plot line as the bat boys are reader's mate. Feyre has a different mate, and if you'd like more to this story Nesta would be mated to someone else. I have more ideas for this storyline in particular, so let me know if you'd like to see more. Anyway I hope you enjoy.

WORD COUNT: 6.2K Words

Pain. Pain was all you could feel. Blood was what you could smell. Laughter coming from your father and brothers is all you could hear. You didn’t know how you had reached this point. You were leaving for Velaris to see the males you considered family more than your own family. You had your bags in hand and were getting ready to take off when they had attacked you. Your brothers had tackled you down to the ground and held onto you while your father took your wings and clipped them from your body.

You didn’t know you could feel so much pain like you did as they were being cut off. They had taken away the most important thing in your life, and they had all laughed while they did it. They didn’t give you a reason they just did. After taking your wings this disappeared and left you on the outskirts of their camp to die. Moans of pain left your throat as tears cascaded down your cheeks. Your back was on fire, as rain droplets hit the open wounds. Your wet hair covered your face, and your body was covered in mud with bruises forming around your wrist and on your knees.

You rested your forehead against the ground as you continued to cry at the loss of your wings. You knew that Rhys, Cass, and Az were probably worried when you hadn’t showed up. They were your best friends and had been since you had met them before Rhysand had become High Lord. You were lucky to find them when you did, they had given you a second chance to have a family that cared about you. Morrigan had easily become one of your closest friends. Amren didn’t warm up to you at first but she eventually pulled around.

Rhysand had asked that you permanently move to Velaris with them, you had agreed simply because you were afraid of losing your wings. You just wished you had left sooner when the offer left his lips. Now they were gone and you would never be able to feel the wind in your hair as you flew through the sky. You’d never be able to feel the freedom it gave you anymore. It was taken from you, and those males you had called father and brothers had taken from you. Azriel had been flying back to Velaris after a mission when Rhys had spoken to him.

“Y/N hasn’t shown up. Can you find her and bring her home?” Rhys asked the Shadowsinger.

“I’ll bring her home, Rhys.” Azriel adjusted course and headed towards Illyria, towards your camp.

When Azriel changed his course a wave of pain rushed through him and he almost crashed into a tree. He could feel your panic, and he was certain that Rhysand and Cassian could feel it too. Maybe that was why Rhys had spoken to him and asked to look for you. When he got closer he could smell your blood. He knew what had happened almost instantly. He regretted not fighting harder to bring you home weeks ago. The male collapsed to his knees beside you, his scarred hand reaching out to you and moving your wet away from your face.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” He questioned, moving to feel for a pulse.

You didn’t answer, but he sighed when he felt a pulse. It was weak but there. His shadows were just as panicked as he was. Very gently Azriel picked you up from the mud and held onto your body. Azriel called to Rhysand as he moved with his shadows. When he arrived in Velaris he took off to the House of Wind. When he landed outside the house they were all waiting. Fear had been etched into each of their faces as they all took you in. The blood had somewhat clotted but in some areas it was still gliding down your back. Mor took in your state, your face pale from the bloodloss.

“What happened?” Was all the female had managed to get out. Anger had made its way onto Rhysand and Cassian’s face as they stared at them.

“I don’t know. I think she was attacked, they clipped her wings.” Azriel explained, a sob ran through your throat at the words that left his mouth. You clung onto Azriel tighter. But it wasn’t enough, you felt yourself slipping, the voices around you growing distant. Everything disappeared, you were alone in complete darkness. But one thing remained that you held onto, a golden string that tied you to three males.

Cassian was pacing the hallway, Rhys and Azriel sat next to each other watching the male. Mor and Amren sat in the living room, waiting. Madja and a few other healers were in the room working on your back. Cassian stopped moving when your screams ripped through his ears. It pained him to not be in there with you.

“Do you know who did it?” Cassian finally asked, closing his eyes fighting the urge to run into the room to be with you.

“No.” Azriel’s jaw clenched. “Though I have a feeling her family was responsible. Something happened for them to act the way that they did. Attacking her at night when she’s set to leave knowing she’d never return.” Azriel added.

“I want the entire family brought to Hewn City and locked up until we can figure out what to do with them. I don’t care who did this, they will pay for taking away the one thing that meant the most to her.” Rhysand ordered sharing a look with his Spymaster and his General.

“I can go get them right now and lock them up until we’re ready to talk to them.” Azriel said, though he didn’t want to leave you. Hearing your screams of agony was killing him just as much as it had been Rhys and Cass. He needed something to distract him until Madja and the other healers had done what they could. Rhys gave a simple nod of his head.

Before Azriel could leave another scream escaped your lips, he allowed a shadow to leave him and stay in the room with you. The shadowsinger watched as it slipped under the door. It found a spot on your neck, helping you cool down. With that Azriel disappeared moving into the shadows to find the ones that had taken your wings for their own sick game. Though he had no doubt in his mind that your father was getting ready to place them on the mantle in your home as a prize.

“We can’t tell her about the bond, not now anyway.” Cassian mumbled as he sat down next to his High Lord.

Rhysand turned, his violet eyes searching hazel eyes. The mating bond had snapped for them all at once a few weeks ago when they were with you. They had shown up to the war camp and taken you to the cabin where Mor and Amren already were. It had been such a fun time for you and all of them. To be able to spend free time without the fear of your father looming over you. You were completely wasted alongside Mor, the two of you dancing and singing not a car in the world. And as the three males stared up at you with your arms wrapped around Mor laughter falling from your lips that golden string connected the three males to you and to each other.

The confusion was clear as day when it happened, and you were completely oblivious to it. In the coming days after discovering the bond the three males had managed to work through what they felt, they were better now because of it. But they wanted you to know, they didn’t want to force the bond, but keeping it from you would only anger you so they agreed to tell you when you had come home to them. Rhysand reached out for Cassian’s hand and held it tightly in his.

“We’ll tell her after she gets through this. She’s going to need all of us, Mor and Amren included.” Cassian gave a nod of his head. The affection that each male received from each other since the bond had snapped was still very new, however it was a welcome surprise. Finally the doors opened and Madja stepped out. Her eyes landed on the High Lord and the General.

“How is she?” Cassian was the first to ask the question, needing to break the silence both between them and in his mind.

“She’ll pull through. Though she’ll be in pain for a few days, it’s best for her to rest while the scars heal. She’s also asking for you two and the spymaster.” Madja explained, looking between the two males.

“Az, get back here now.” Rhysand’s words were firm but an order. Luckily he had your parents and brothers locked in cells in Hewn City. They would most likely be waiting a few days in the cells.

“I’m on my way.” Was all he said.

Rhysand watched Madja and the other healers disappear, leaving them in the hallway. He could hear Madja talking to Mor and Amren, most likely explaining what she had explained to Rhysand and Cassian. The two males finally walked in, the door closed behind them. You were in the center of the bed, laying on your stomach. Your eyes were closed, sweat was falling down your forehead. Bandages covered your back where your wings had once been. They moved closer to the bed but stopped.

Azriel appeared in the corner of the room, his shadows surrounding him, talking to him, “safe”. They’d said, and you were and you would be from now on. Finally you opened your eyes and stared at the three males that stood before you. Sorrow rested in their eyes as they continued to stare at you. They could feel your pain through the bond, feel how much it was killing you to not feel them on your back anymore. These next few months were going to be hell but you were thankful to have these three males by your side.

───── ❝ ◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸ ❞ ─────

Rhysand stood in a dark room with Cassian and Azriel behind him. The High Lord was staring down at your father. He had talked to your mother and brothers but none of them had said an ounce of anything. A few days after you had gotten enough sleep and had healed somewhat Rhys had brought up the topic of what to do with your family. You had given the decision to the male considering you could never look at any of them again. So here they were trying to get to the bottom of why your wings had been completely clipped from your body.

“Why did you do it?” Rhys’ voice was powerful as the question swam around the dark room.

The male glared at Rhysand, then his eyes fell onto Cassian and Azriel. Finally after hours of asking the same question the male snapped and shared his true intentions behind your wing clipping.

“Because she is a bastard child, never should she have been born. But who was I to deny my wife another babe? I should’ve seen it though. She looks nothing like me.” His voice was cold and his eyes were dark. This information that he had discovered was something the three males needed to know without realizing it.

“What are you talking about?” Cassian urged, taking a step forward but still holding his ground behind Rhysand.

“The female that you consider a friend, she isn’t my daughter. She belongs to that High Lord in the Day Court. According to my wife she had gotten pregnant when she went to visit some friends in the Day Court.” The male paused clenching his fist as he thought about it. “I should’ve picked up on it sooner.”

Azriel and Cassian had shocked expressions on their faces as the words ran through their pointed ears. They quickly put on a neutral mask to hide the shock.

“You’re saying that Y/N is the princess of Helion?” Rhysand asked, trying not to let his voice falter.

“Unfortunately.”

“Why did you take her wings from her?” Azriel asked.

“She didn’t deserve those wings. She didn’t deserve to have any trace of those wings. That female got what was coming to her. I only wished I had ended her life that night instead of taking her wings from her.” He seethed, staring at the males.

Rhysand leaned forward and lifted his hand to the male’s head and slammed it into the table, breaking his nose. “You took away the only thing that meant everything to her you damned bastard.” Cassian and Azriel were quick to pull their High Lord from the male and out of the room. When they were no longer in the room the two males let go of Rhysand. They stared at him intently as his emotions flew down the bridge between them.

“What are we going to do with them?” Cassian was the first to break the silence between them.

“They’ll stay locked up. And we’re telling Y/N everything. She deserves to know the truth about her father, about who he actually is. But not today. Let her rest today. We’ll tell her in a few days.” Cassian and Azriel gave a nod to Rhysand.

───── ❝ ◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸ ❞ ─────

They had done just that, allowing you to take in the new information of who your real father was. You had taken the news better than they thought you would. Somewhere deep down you had always known that the male that raised you wasn’t your father. And now there was a chance for you to have a relationship with your biological father. In the days since you had started your recovery they had decided to keep the mating bond from you just until you had healed back to full strength.

It would see that fate would have other plans for the four of you. A few days after your recovery had started Rhysand had left for a party. He had received an invite from Amarantha herself. You had tried to get Rhys to stay with you and the others, you needed him more than ever (though you still weren’t sure why). But his duty as High Lord rose above, he promised you, Cassian, and Azriel that he’d be back before they knew it. He made it clear to Cassian and Azriel that they’d discuss the mating bond with you when he got back as he no longer could keep it hidden and honestly neither could they.

When Rhys had been locked up Under the Mountain and you all had been locked in, Velaris, not able to leave. Things changed. The bond had snapped into place for you with only one of them. It had snapped one day when you were out on the roof training with Cassian, he had knocked you down and held you down to the mats staring into your eyes. The wind had been knocked right out of you when you looked back up at the General. That was when it all came out to you, the truth. Azriel stood near the two of you.

“How long?” You asked, still staring at Cassian.

“We’ve known since the Cabin. It snapped for the three of us at the same time when you were dancing with Mor in the living room by the fire.” Cassian explained as he moved back from you allowing you room to breathe and process the information.

“You’ve all known I was your mate since before my wings were taken and you didn’t say anything?” You looked between Cassian and Azriel, you still only felt the bond between you and Cassian but it was strong. They both gave a small nod.

“We were going to tell you that night, the night I found you in the rain bleeding, crying out at the loss of your wings. But you were so broken, and having found out that Helion was your father we couldn’t tell you. We all felt that it was too much stress to have you under and we didn’t want to put you under the pressure of the mating bond. Rhys said we would tell you when he came home from the party but now who knows what’ll happen.” Azriel said.

You could see the pain in both of their eyes and while you were missing Rhys more than anything right now. You could see just how much they missed Rhys because they had felt the bond snap for them, they were connected to each other and it was only now that one of them had snapped for you. It was just Cassian and not Azriel and Rhysand. Your heart ached just thinking about it. About when the bond would snap for you. But right now you need time to clear your head.

“I need time to process this.” You breathed out, dropping your head into your hands. “I only felt the bond between Cass and I snap.” You paused looking up at Az. “I don’t doubt that all three of you are my mates, that we are mates for each other. I will admit that the Cauldron had blessed us with this mating bond. But I know that you and Rhys will snap for me when the time is right. But for now I need time to process.”

“You will have it, we’ll give you as much time as you need.” Cassian exhaled.

“We’ll wait however long it takes.” Azriel added.

Later that day you had found yourself in the kitchen making dinner for everyone. Mor and Amren were in the living room with Cassian and Azriel. You had found that cooking had helped you find some semblance of peace. It cleared your mind and allowed you to think properly. What you hadn’t expected was to feel the return of something you had missed for so long. You stopped what you were doing walking into the living room and staring towards the door.

Mor noticed you first, she stood from the couch and walked over to you. She grasped a hold of your hand as tears started to fall from your face. Rhysand stood there near the front door, a male behind him. Rhys’ eyes were panicked as he looked for each mate. Mor finally turned to see what you had been looking at.

“Rhys.” You breathed out. Cassian and Azriel had already been staring at their mate. You felt the tug of the bond through Cassian, his happiness flowing through it. You left Mor’s side and ran to him, colliding into his body and hugging him tightly. He hesitated hugging you back, something you, Cassian and Azriel had picked up on. But then your thoughts washed away when he hugged you back. Then you took in the male that stood behind Rhys, when you pulled away from him he noticed the confused look on his face.

“This is Ryder, he is my friend. Feyre is his mate, the one who saved all of us. He was kicked out of his court because he attended the party with his High Lord.” Rhysand started to explain.

“It was more like I went against the wishes of Beron. I couldn’t stand the male anymore.” He said, looking at the ones that stared at him.

“Welcome, I was just finishing setting dinner out, please join us.” You said softly. Rhys found his heart skipping a beat at your kindness towards someone you had just met. You walked away from them, Mor followed behind to help bring the food out. When you disappeared, and Ryder walked with Amren over to the table, Rhysand's eyes found Cassian and Azriel staring at him.

“We have a lot to discuss but not tonight.” Rhysand said, the two gave a nod of understanding.

───── ❝ ◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸ ❞ ─────

In the months since Rhys had been freed a war had been looming over everyone’s heads. Feyre Archeron had after a few months had officially joined the Night Court leaving Tamlin behind. Things were changing and you could feel it. But then it happened, you were on the ground near Rhysand tears spilling out of your eyes. Cassian and Azriel were both hurt and the Feyre’s sister’s had been forced into the Cauldron.

But you couldn’t focus on anything else, not when the bond for you and Azriel had finally snapped into place. You were now tied to Cassian and Azriel, but now you might lose both of them. A sob escaped your lips. You looked up as the Hybern king walked towards you. He pushed Rhysand out of the way and grabbed a hold of your chin lifting it towards his face.

“What a surprise? Mated to three males, but only two have snapped into place. Two of whom might die.” His words ran around the room and shock fell onto some faces.

“You don’t know anything, bastard.” You spat, choosing at that moment to put yourself together. This had been why Rhys had made you High Lady. He knew that you had known about the mating bond and while you had fully accepted it you had still been waiting for it to snap between you and Azriel and you and Rhysand. The High Lord knew you would make a wonderful High Lady as his equal.

“Don’t I?” He taunted. “Your wings were taken from you because your father discovered that you were the princess of the High Lord over in Day Court. You're mated to three males. You little shining star are easy to read. Your face gives away everything, and so does your father.” Your heart stopped beating as you looked at the male that still held onto your chin.

“What are you talking about?” The confusion was evident in your voice.

“Well someone let go of your brothers and parents when Rhysand was trapped in the Mountain. And let's just say they joined my army. Though I can’t say the same for your mother. She put up a fight but it was easy for my niece and nephew to squash her brain like it was nothing. She was given a worthless death.”

“No.” Was all you could manage to say. You could feel something running through your body but nothing could escape. You just kneeled there not believing that your mother had been taken from this world. The Hybern King had been hoping that some of your power from your true father might escape at the mention of your mothers death but nothing happened.

“I guess your mother wasn’t important. Maybe I should kill the shadowsinger. Or how about the general since he was the first to snap for you. Maybe he’d be the one to bring forth your power.”

You moved your hand behind your back as you lifted your face glaring at the male before you. Rhysand, Feyre and Ryder watched and pulled a small dagger out of hiding. Slowly you stood from the floor to better match up to him.

“You will not lay a hand on any of my mates because if you do, I will make sure you die a slow and painful death.” As those words left your mouth you pulled your hand back and managed to throw the blade into the male’s chest. He roared back in pain and it had been enough of a scene for everyone to make it out. Rhysand wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you with him.

Your eyes found Feyre and she gave a nod to you. This plan had been exactly what the three of you had discussed. Minus the injuries to Cassian and Azriel. Upon winnowing back to Velaris you collapsed to the ground finally breaking at the loss of your mother. You couldn’t do it in front of them, you know they were in the shadows watching. And you couldn’t give them that satisfaction. Rhys wrapped himself around you and held tightly as you sobbed into his chest.

“She’s gone.” She whispered, another sob leaving your mouth.

Rhys didn’t say anything, he just held onto you while the others made themselves useful making sure Madja was helping Cassian and Azriel. You pulled back and looked into Rhys’ violet eyes.

“I know the war is coming. I can’t lose any of you, I won’t allow it to happen.” Your lower lip quivered.

“Nothing will happen.” But you and Rhys knew that it was inevitable. That someone would die.

───── ❝ ◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸ ❞ ─────

You stood next to your father, Helion. He had come to see you before the battle started. As he looked at you, he could see the glimpse of your mother on your face.

“Did you love her?” You asked, staring into his golden eyes.

“Your mother was one of my many lovers when she’d come to visit my Court. But she held a special place in my heart. And even though she’s no longer here with us there’s a piece of her in you.”

Helion paused as you processed his words. Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel stood not far off from you and Helion. They could hear the conversation between you two.

“When this is over I’d like to get to know my daughter more. Only if you are okay with that, my little sunshine.” A smile graced your lips as you stared at the make you’d be happy to call your father.

“I’d be happy to do that. I’d like to get to know my real father. I’d like to know what I could’ve had with you in your Court.”

“As my first born you would be High Lady when I step down.”

“No.” The word was stern as it came out of your mouth. You couldn’t take that duty over not only because you were already High Lady of the Night Court, but because you knew Helion had a son as well. You had been told by Feyre and Ryder that Lucien was in fact the prince of the Day Court, that meant that you had a half brother. “I am already High Lady and I do not plan to step down from that position for a long time.”

“Very well.” Helion looked back at the three males that were -almost- your mates. “Do they treat you well?”

You turned to follow his gaze, the males looked away pretending to do something, to act like they weren’t listening in on your conversation when you knew very well that they were. You released a laugh, it had caught their pointed ears and the three males gazed back over to you. The love was ever so clear in each of their eyes, and while the bond might not have snapped for you with Rhys yet; but you knew one thing for certain. You were going to accept the bond with all three of them. You turned back to Helion as he placed his amber eyes on you.

“Even before I knew that we were mates I knew that I had loved each of them for different reasons. And to know that we are mates had heightened that love. I’d go out onto that battlefield and die for them if it meant a better tomorrow and I knew that they’d do the same for me. I may have lost my wings but one way or another they saved me in every way they could.”

“That’s wonderful news my little sunshine. I may not have been part of your life, I wish I could’ve been because I would’ve taken you and your mother away before they ever took your wings from you.”

“I wouldn’t change any of the things that have happened to me. I may not have liked them at the time it happened and what happened with my wings, it was painful to go through but I pulled through. I wish Rhys had been there for my recovery but he was going through worse at the time and so were you. I have learned to move through my trauma and it is because of my mates that I have healed.”

The three males behind you had the biggest smiles on their lips as you explained all of this to your father. “Maybe when you come over to the Day Court to visit we can figure out if you have my shape-shifting ability, if you do then you might be able to shift Illyrian wings onto your back once more and fly through the sky again.”

Your heart beat fast against your chest, it felt like it was going to break through at the mention of it. Cassian stepped forward, joining in on the conversation.

“She could do that?” He asked, his hazel eyes switching to Helion then back to you.

“It’s possible. If Feyre has the ability to shift Illyrian wings on her back then I have no doubt that Y/N could too.” Your knees were going to buckle, you could feel it so you made quick movement and pulled your father into a hug. The first of many for sure. He was shocked at first but eventually he hugged you back. “Now I must go ready my army. I’ll see you out there.”

You watched silently as your father winnowed away, you turned towards the three males. They came over to you gathering around in a circle. You grabbed a hold of Rhys hand, and Cassian’s hand. Azriel stood across from you holding onto Cassian’s and Rhys as well. You looked at each of them taking in this moment before your friends would join.

“I love you all, and I need you to know that before this battle. If one of us doesn’t make it…” You closed your eyes trying to hold back your tears. “I couldn’t go onto that battlefield not admitting to you all that I love you. Regardless of the mating bond not yet snapping for me and Rhys, I love you.”

“We love you too, darling Y/N.” Rhys said, squeezing your hand tightly. You smiled at him as the others joined in the circle and more words were spoken.

───── ❝ ◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸ ❞ ─────

The battle had raged on, you were separated from Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian. Blood, mud, and grim covered your body and you knew you’d need a bath after this was over. The bond was over the place causing you to panic. You could feel strings tying you to three males, tying you to Azriel, Cassian, and finally Rhysand. A little laugh left your mouth as you threw your sword into one of the Hybern men.

But it didn’t last, something was wrong you could feel it. You knew Cassian had been injured, Rhys had told you via thoughts. But this was Rhys, you could feel something wrong. Especially when his voice came in through your mind and sure enough Cassian and Azriel as well, he was using the bond between the four of you.

“I love you all.” He whispered in your minds. “I love you, more than anything.”

Helion was suddenly next to you, arms wrapping around you he winnowed to where Rhys had been with Feyre. You let go of your father running over to your mate sliding down on your knees.

“He offered his power to allow me to repair the Cauldron.” Feyre’s voice was running through your ears but you couldn’t hear it because you couldn’t feel Rhys, seconds later Az and Cass were there. Tears in their eyes as they looked down at their dead mate.

“No. No. No. Rhys, come back to me, come back to us. Please, we can’t lose you.” You cried out pulling the male into your body. You couldn’t feel anything, couldn’t feel him through the bond, couldn't feel a heartbeat. He was gone, and this was the worst feeling in the world for you, for Azriel, and for Cassian. The two were on their knees watching you cry over Rhys. Tarquin and Helion kneeled down next to you.

“He’s gone, Y/N.” Helion said first, a sob followed after the words left his mouth. You looked at the two High Lord’s as they stared at you.

“No.” You said, shaking your head, tears falling down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” Tarquin spoke.

You looked back at Rhysand as those words broke you. You screamed at the top of your lungs, as loud as you could. Power flowed through your body, it lit up covering every inch of you as you screamed for the loss of a mate. Tarquin and Helion backed away from you, the power pushed out of your body and turned into an orb shooting to the sky before bursting into a firework. You rested your forehead on his. Finally Azriel moved over to you, as did Cassian despite his injury. The two tried to pull you from Rhysand so they could hold onto you but you refused.

“Bring him back.” You shouted, looking at the lords around you. This was not ending, this was not meant to be the ending he got. Not when you had finally felt the bond between you and Rhysand. Not when the four of you could finally be happy together after so long. The High Lords didn’t say anything, you could only feel their gazes on you. “Bring him back. You did it for Feyre, you can do it for him.”

“She was human.” Helion said, looking down at you. He could see the heartbreak over your entire face. Over your mates faces as well. “It is not the same─”

“I don’t care. Do it. I can’t lose him, I won’t. Please, father.” You looked up at him, the words escaping your lips before you could stop them. Helion felt his heart squeeze tightly at the new title. It had been something he never imagined could be possible until this moment.

Your eyes found Feyre, you didn’t need to say anything to understand what she would do to help you, Cassian and Azriel get your mate back. Tarquin stepped forward, eyes on you.

“For what he gave,” Tarquin whispered. “Today and for many years before.” You watched as a seed of light appeared in Tarquin’s palm. More tears escaped from your eyes rolling down your cheeks as you watched the light fall down into Rhys’ throat vanishing into his skin. One by one the High Lords started to offer up a seed of light repeating what Tarquin had done. You heard Feyre talking but were trying to feel out the bond for Rhys to listen in.

When Tamlin came up she begged for you, the two of you had become best of friends over the last few months and while she couldn’t understand the loss of a mate because Ryder was right next to her he understood the pain of almost losing a mate. Feyre couldn’t let you go through that pain. You glanced at Tamlin as he dropped the seed of light into Rhys’ mouth.

“Thank you.” You whispered.

“Take care of her.” Tamlin said, as he looked back at Feyre while Ryder held onto her.

“I will.” You placed your head on his chest, closing your eyes, waiting. Cassian and Azriel kept their eyes trained on Rhysand also waiting. In fact everyone had been waiting. But you could feel it, the thud of the bond growing brighter and brighter for the four of you. You glanced at Az and Cass to see the same reaction on their faces. Then you felt it, the graze of his hand on your back. A soft touch and something you never wanted to let go of.

Then Rhys groaned, “If we’re all here, either things went very, very wrong or very right.” Cassian released a broken laugh, he and Azriel placed a hand on top of your hand that was connected to Rhys’. You didn’t let Rhys go, nor did you open your eyes to look at him. You breathed him in as you felt his heart beat against his chest, against your ear. The tears still streamed down your face, but were falling onto his leathers. “You lot will be pleased to know… My power remains my own. No thieving here.”

“You do know how to make an entrance,” Helion started. “Or should I say exit.” That earned a glare from you, your eyes had opened and you had looked up at your father.

“You’re horrible.” Viviane snapped. “That’s not even remotely funny.”

“I meant no harm by it.” Helion paused and became serious as he looked down at the three males that would soon become his son-in-laws once they were mated to his daughter. “Do not hurt her like that again. And that goes for you Shadowsinger, and you General.” The three males gave a nod to your father. Finally Rhysand called your name, for the first time since he had come back you looked at him.

“I’m here, my loves.” He said as he looked at the three of you. His violet eyes lingered on you.

“Good, I don’t want to see what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come back.” Cassian whispered.

“So, does this mean we can finally accept the mating bond?” Rhys asked, a smirk on his lips as he continued to switch at who he was looking at. You looked at Azriel who gave a nod, then at Cassian who did the same. Finally you looked back at Rhys.

“If it means we get forever together then I can’t wait to accept the mating bond. I don’t wish to live in a world where none of you exist. And I don’t wish to live another day without being able to call you mine forever.” You smiled at them, the smile never leaving your lips even as you returned back home.

Part 2

#reader insert #x reader #rhysand x reader #azriel x reader #cassian x reader #rhysand x cassian #rhysand x azriel #a court of thorns and roses #helion acotar #bat boys x reader #acotar x reader

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illyrianbitch · 4 months

Text

Beneath the Ashes of Our Broken Oaths

Pairing: Morrigan's Sister!Reader x Azriel

Summary: After abandoning the refuge of Velaris, you, Morrigan’s twin sister, returned to the forsaken Hewn City fueled by a vision for a better future. Now, your estranged family seeks your help when rumors of rebellion spread at a time of utmost inconvenience. Torn between your anger and a desire to protect the good, you begrudgingly agree and are forced to face memories of a past life and the unsettling presence of Azriel– the first man you ever loved.

Warnings: ANGST, Helion being compassionate and its sexy, Inner Circle slander (sorry feyre baby), Y/N is kind of a bitch (but its warranted and a slay), family trauma.

Word Count: 2.9k

Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It was Helion, the High Lord of Day, who had seen the flicker of hope in your eyes. A man of discerning wisdom, he recognized your yearnings of a better world. He knew you, he knew your heart, and he trusted your vision— with the promise of your support shall he need it. You knew that your support, in the grand scheme of things, meant nothing to Helion. He had always held a heart of gold, of understanding, and he would have helped you without anything in return. But you had insisted, declared that you needed to give him something to thank him. Your support, he had agreed on. It was all you had left, anyway.

Now, you stood before him, pleading. Your chest was tight and a calm panic filled your veins. You needed to act. You needed to keep things in place.

"Helion, please," your voice, normally composed, now carried a tremor, a plea that hung in the air, reeking of desperation. Low light poured through stained glass windows as the sun slowly set, painting a kaleidoscope of muted colors on the marble floors.

His eyes, usually filled with warmth, held a regretful sympathy.

"Y/N, I wish I could," He replied, his voice caressing the air, "But with the current state of affairs and your father’s growing paranoia, it's too risky. I can't jeopardize my people. My help is needed elsewhere."

Approaching you, he extended a large hand, gently cupping your chin, his touch reassuring and pained. "Give me some time, sweetheart."

Desperation deepened in your eyes, and the intensity of your plea swelled. Aching with fear and worry, your gaze remained locked on his. "I don’t have time. Hewn City corrupts swiftly. You know this.”

Helion sighed, a sound filled with a blend of both compassion and helplessness. "Perhaps you should reach out to Rhysand. His influence might help, now more than ever."

Yor felt a bitterness surface, like bile rising through your throat. A soft scoff left your mouth as you roughly pulled Helion’s hand away from your chin, withdrawing from his touch in offense. "Rhys had a chance to help. He didn’t. He couldn’t care less. I won’t go crawling to him."

Helion's gaze softened, a tender response to your rough tone. He let out a sigh and pulled you close to him once more. His touch sent a wave of comfort through you, something that happened often when you visited him to discuss these things. Helion was a man who loved physical connection— you didn’t mind it. It made you feel seen, understood. Now, you craved that feeling more than ever.

"I don’t understand this contempt you hold. Surely they will want to help you. They miss you."

You rolled your eyes at this. Of course Helion would think so. As much as you trusted him and his admiration for you, he always did love your family. Your sister and your cousin would always be in your life, tied to you in one way or another. Frustration tinged your voice.

"It's too late. Going to Rhysand now would draw unwanted attention or, worse, he’d halt my efforts because of some perceived danger."

There was a moment of silence, and your eyes bounced around the room, searching for somewhere to land that wasn’t Helion's burning gaze. Once more, he moved a hand to gently cradle your face.

"You cannot foresee every outcome. You're not a mind reader, Y/N."

A bitter laugh escaped you, and you looked up at him through your lashes. "I might as well be when it comes to family."

"You've accomplished so much. Allow yourself a reprieve. You can't bear the weight of the innocents lives in Hewn City alone."

You blinked away the tears that welled in your eyes as you admitted, "I can't afford to stop. If I do, they'll think I've given up."

"No," Helion asserted, his voice unwavering. "Your dedication is commendable, but you need to care for yourself. Let me help you."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you stared at him, his brows furrowed slightly and a sad smile on his face. He moved his hand once more, gently tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear. Then, he ran a finger along it, a soft caress carried by a weight of understanding. You shuddered at the lightness of his touch.

"Stay, Y/N,” He suggested, his voice smooth and low, “Let me be a distraction. You take care of others; let someone take care of you."

You leaned slightly into his caress, feeling the warmth radiating from his hand. A fleeting sense of comfort teased at the edges of your weary soul. Yet, reality swiftly reasserted its grasp, and you gently withdrew, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

"I appreciate the offer," you murmured, your voice tinged with regret. Your hand delicately intercepted his, guiding it away from your cheek. "But I can't afford the luxury of distraction right now."

He acknowledged your decision with a small nod.

“I wish I could do more for you."

A tender smile found its way to your lips and you held his gaze for a fleeting moment of gratitude.

“I know.” You replied before you winnowed away, leaving the luminous embrace of the Day Court behind.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You were on edge. You had been for the last few weeks. Now, after failing to convince Helion, you could feel it catching up to you, a dark hole forming in the pit of your stomach. It felt like you were being swallowed alive, eaten by your own anxieties and fear. But you didn’t have time for this. You couldn’t risk falling apart, becoming vulnerable. No, not at a time like this.

You had mastered the art of drowning your thoughts, of discarding the weight that threatened to pull you under. Tonight would be no different. The impending storm would be weathered, as it always had been. You would begin to drink your worries away, give them time to manifest, and then shove them away into the crawlspace of your mind, free to collect dust and rot away.

You moved toward a small table where a simple platter of dark amber liquid awaited. Your fingers tightened around a small crystal glass as you poured. As the first sip touched your lips, you felt the familiar burn, a welcomed distraction. The amber liquid offered solace, if only for a fleeting moment.

And then, you stilled. The creak of the floorboards behind you announced their presence, and you felt it—a pricking at the base of your neck, the subtle disturbance of the air as someone entered, no, appeared. Your body tensed instinctively, shoulders rigid, as you ceased your movements. You took a moment to compose yourself, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply-- a futile attempt to ground yourself.

You downed the drink, the warmth spreading through your veins, and set your glass down, a definitive thud echoing in the silence as it met the table. You turned around slowly, the ever-present undercurrent of anxiety beneath your skin momentarily masked by a face of composure. The simple décor of your home surrounded you—the tattered tapestries, broken furniture—all a testament to a life you had built in the aftermath of your return. One that lacked the color that you once held.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Your voice, laced with both mockery and a hint of something darker, hung in the air.

In front of you, Rhysand stood tall and proud, a figure of authority. His eyes, once familiar and comforting, now held a look determination. His gaze held yours strongly, and for a swift moment, you saw them soften. But the tenderness quickly dissipated, his eyes narrowing with a slight tilt of his head. You ran your eyes along his face, then down his form, taking in the detailed and intricate patterns of his clothing— an embodiment of Night Court royalty. Then, you looked at him again, your jaw clenching. It had been a while since you looked into his eyes, a violet color deeply embedded into your mind. For a moment, his presence consumed your thoughts, distracting you from the other man that you felt in your home.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see the dark figure stepping out from the corners of your room. A darkness licked at your skin.

"Hello, Azriel," you acknowledged him, your eyes remaining fixed on Rhysand.

Azriel's presence was a dark whisper. The edges of your room seemed to blur with shadows as he stood there, a silent observer.

"I’ve come to request your help," Rhysand's voice cut through the stillness, his words carrying the weight of urgency.

Your response was swift, dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, that's rich."

The corners of the room seemed to darken further as Rhysand's frustration manifested in the clenching of his jaw. The subtle play of shadows accentuated the lines on his face, revealing the strain of a desperate plea.

"Please hear me out."

You shook your head. They shouldn’t be here. This was risky, dangerous. You needed them to leave. They needed to disappear, to let you go and never find you again. That was the only way you would be able to survive.

But every fiber in your being was screaming to do the opposite, to embrace your cousin and explain to him, tell him everything. You wanted to get on your knees and beg for the kindness he always showed you, to ask him about your sister. For him to tell you about his life, his love, his child. But you couldn’t. And from inside you, your heart tugged you to Azriel, his stoic form. You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to catch his gaze. It was all so wrong. This disconnect, this anger you felt for them, for your situation, for yourself… it was eating you up. But this wasn't the time. So you pulled your thoughts together and focused on the one thing that had never let you down: your fire.

You reminded yourself of the resentment you held, deep down. Reminded yourself of how they had failed you, separated themselves from you, your vision, and the suffering of the good people here, in Hewn City— your city. Rhysand's city.

Ignoring his original words, you looked at Rhysand with the hint of a wicked grin on your face.

"Where’s your child bride? I heard she’s reading at the same level as your babe. You must be overjoyed."

Rhysand's expression tightened, anger simmering beneath the surface. The mention of his mate touched a clear nerve, and for a brief moment, you reveled in the discomfort you had caused. It was a twisted satisfaction, a way to regain some sliver of control in this unexpected encounter.

His temper flared, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability replaced by a presence of anger that you knew all too well. He bit down on his frustration, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure. But you pressed on.

“I’m only kidding, take a joke, Rhysand. 500 years and you still have the emotional regulation of a teenager. Nice to see some things don’t change."

Rhysand's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and confusion, observing you and your wall of icy nonchalance. His name sounded foreign on your lips, spoken with such malice and distaste. Even the last time he had seen you, during a bloody war against Hybern, you had not been so venomous. This was a fact you both thought of as you stood here, now, in front of one another again. You moved gracefully through the room, ignoring their presence, and opened a small box that sat on your table. The delicate aroma of sugar wafted through the air. You took a seat.

Azriel and Rhysand exchanged glances. Your fingers idly played with the box, an ornate creation that held delicate, candied treats. With an almost casual indifference, you brought one of the sweet confections to your mouth, savoring the taste as if the weight of their presence meant nothing to you. You could feel the tension building in the atmosphere, heightened by their growing sense of agitation and frustration. It radiated off of them like heat. You welcomed it with open arms, like a freezing child in the cold.

"These are the loveliest desserts,” You explained, bringing the candy close to your face with an examining eye, “Hard to come across here. But I know a guy.”

“Want one?" you offered, dropping your candy back into the box and extending it toward Azriel, whose stoic expression remained unchanged.

"What? Doggy can’t take a treat?" You taunted with a measured smile. You didn’t miss the slight flare of his nostrils, or the way his shadows began to snake up his arms, angry and riled up.

A tense silence lingered as Azriel remained perfectly unmoving, his eyes holding a depth of attentiveness that made you uncomfortable. But the discomfort within you sought distraction, and you continued with your mockery. You waved your hands in the air as a dismissal.

"Bah, you guys are no fun."

The room felt charged as you baited them, your attempts to deflect the gravity of their visit becoming slowly evident in every casual gesture.

Rhysand's frustration reached a boiling point, and he took a step forward, shifting the conversation.

"We didn't come here for sweets and jests. We came for you."

You chuckled, a sound that held a bitter edge. "Me? You must be desperate, Rhysand."

A flicker of hurt crossed his eyes, swiftly replaced by a steely resolve. "There are rumors of rebellion here,” He took a pause, glancing around the room as if he was contemplating continuing. He spoke again, “But, I'm dealing with a larger threat that has me on the defense. I cannot afford an uprising."

Your laughter cut through the air like a blade. "Is the idea of civil unrest among your people an inconvenience? My, what an issue, must be terrible."

Rhysand's patience waned, his features hardening. "Stop this, Y/N. We need your help to prevent a disaster."

You leaned back against your furniture, your eyes narrowing as you regarded him with a chilling indifference. "I've heard nothing about any unrest. You've wasted a trip."

Rhysand's gaze bore into yours, an unspoken challenge. "Azriel has been in Hewn City, gathering information. He's heard the rumors. I know you're lying."

In that moment, a silent battle waged within you. The desire to help, to make a difference, warred against the fear of exposing yourself to the dangers lurking beyond your sanctuary. The memories of the past, the reasons you returned, echoed in your mind. You wanted to help, but you knew their presence could unravel the delicate life you had crafted.

Rhysand's voice softened, a genuine plea beneath the layers of frustration. "Y/N, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t serious. Why do you refuse to acknowledge that?"

Then, his eyes softened, sensing a crack in your facade. Inner turmoil clouded your eyes as you locked gazes with him. The conflict within you played out in the subtle tremor of your fingers, a telltale sign of something bubbling beneath your icy exterior. But as quickly as it manifested, you shut it down, fast enough to resolve Rhys of his attentive eyes. He swallowed and fixed his composure.

"Azriel has gained information that it's not just a rise against me. There are whispers of a rebellion against Keir himself. I need you to listen for information from your father."

Your father. A wave of nausea rippled throughout your body and you clenched your jaw in response. The title sounded strange coming from Rhysand, a stark reminder of your place here, of your place in his family. No, no. You thought. I will not let them see me falter.

Rhysand continued, "Azriel has gathered intelligence, but we need someone on the inside. We need you."

A cynical smile now played on your lips as you taunted them, "Maybe it's time for a change. The mighty High Lord struggling to keep control – how novel."

Azriel, who had maintained a cold silence until now, spoke up for the first time, taking a heavy step forward towards where you sat.

"We both know you do not mean that."

You turned your gaze to him, eyes dark. "And what do you know about what I mean, Azriel? You don't know anything about me."

Rhysand put a hand out in front of Azriel’s form, biting back his retort. The room hung heavy as you finally declared, "You've overstayed your welcome. It's time for you to leave."

Rhysand's eyes met yours with a determined glint.

"I will be back. Family does not give up."

His words pulled out a surge of anger bubbling within you. Family? Without a second thought, you stood up, your chair scraping against the floor. "Family, huh?" Your voice dripped with bitterness, and you moved toward him, anger etched on your face.

But before you could reach him, Rhysand winnowed away with a controlled fury, leaving Azriel lingering.

Azriel stood still, his eyes slightly narrowed, his brows furrowed at you. You met his gaze and felt a wave of guilt through your body, filling the hole where your fury once was a second before. If you didn’t know any better, it seemed as if Azriel was….. Disappointed? Hurt? But you stabilized yourself, pushing the observation away. Your anger, raw and unfiltered, had an intensity that took even him by surprise. He held your gaze. Then, like a wisp of darkness, he too disappeared, leaving you alone with the remnants of unresolved tension and the taste of bittersweet candied treats lingering in the air.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

a/n: hello hello!! welcome to my lil new fic!! im new here and i have no idea what im doing but i hope at least one person enjoys what has become my creative fictional baby. when i tell you this story has a place in my HEART....y/n here is multilayered and complex and flawed but that is why i love her!! serving cunt 24/7!!!

tumblr scares me so any feedback is so very loved and any advice is great too!! mwuah

777 notes · View notes

sapchat · 6 months

Text

We Are Not Our Fathers, But I Am Yours

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Back by quite literal popular demand: It’s been a few months since you and Az have taken Hawthorne in, and now he has questions about what you guys are to him.

Warnings: I say bastard once. We talk about Azriel's lovely father and the rest of his family. oo I mention that Elain and Lucien had a weird relationship, but just saying "whatever they got going on"

Words: 2.8k

Part One

You're Reading Part Two!!(2)

“How is it, being a mother?” Feyre asked while watching Hawthorne play with little Nyx. The six-year-old, whilst bigger than the one-and-a-half-year-old, still knew to be gentle enough to play.

“It’s… nice, I mean I know I’m not his actual mother. But it’s weird, in the last couple of months I feel like I’d do anything to protect him, I mean honestly, I’d probably sacrifice Az to protect him.” I say, giving a chuckle towards the end.

“I know, Rhys and I said the same thing with Nyx. I mean you remember how Rhys was while I was pregnant, but the minute that little boy got here. It was game over for us both.” Feyre said smiling at the little boys.

We sat drinking our tea a little more watching them play in Elain’s garden before she turned to me again.

“I know that you guys are unofficially planning on moving to Windhaven once he’s eight, so he can be trained. Me and Rhys want you guys in his mother’s house. I know you will be back and forth but instead of getting your guys’ own place, just use it.”

I look at Feyre tears in my eyes from what she and Rhys are offering, then grab her hand, “Thank you guys, I’ll be sure to tell Az when we get home.”

“How is the spymaster doing with this… adjustment?” The High Lady asked a small glint in her eye.

I’d taken to the adjustment quite quickly, as I had already been playing caregiver before we had decided. Azriel was adjusting a little slower. I couldn’t tell if it was due to the lack of parental figures in his younger years, or because of how quickly it went from me and him, to me him and a child.

“He’s,” a quick pause, “Adjusting. It’s been slow, and he’s more awkward than usual. Hawthorne pretty quickly accepted that I was essentially a mother to him. But with Az, I don’t know. Hawthorne had a father who protected him for five years, and then we showed up and told him he wouldn’t see him again. He still calls him Azriel, or Azzie, or a variation of that. And whilst he hasn’t called me his mother it’s like it’s on the tip of his tongue.” I tell her honestly.

I mean we never truly expected him to see us as his parents, but it’s still weird having a child call you by name. Nothing with aunt or uncle in front of it or anything either.

“I think it’ll be okay. Hawthorne knows you both love him, and you both care for him and protect him. You get that and Azriel gets that. He couldn’t have two better parents.” Feyre tells me reassuringly. It seemed like she was going to add something else but then Hawthrone ran over, Nyx stumbling after him.

“Can we have cake now Aunty Feyre?” Hawthorne asked looking from his spot at her knees batty his dark eyelashes.

The child really could pass for our child if it came down to it. The same Illyrian features, hazel eyes, dark almost black hair, and golden skin. There have been times when we walked down the street after collecting him from the Velaris school that people had stopped and awed at how cute of a family we were. How our son was so cute and a carbon copy of his father.

Taking the smiles, they receive as thanks; they don’t notice how tense we become. How I glance at my mate, and he just glances down, some distant look in his eye that I can’t describe.

“That’s not up to me,” Feyre says nodding her head in my direction. The little boy looked at me, eyes gleaming in hope.

“Come on little shadow, let’s see if Aunt Elain and the twins have lunch for us,” I say standing and straightening my pantsuit out. I took his hand and waited for Feyre to pick up the little prince and we went into the Townhouse.

Nuala, Cerridwen, and Elain greeted us, pouring some tea into glasses, and watered-down juice into small cups for the boys. Hawthorne ran excitedly to the three in the kitchenette, and looked into Elain’s brown eyes, “You have snacks?”

Elain smiled down at the boy, smiling down at the little Illyrian. “We do have snacks. But I don’t know if you get to have any.” She said, joy glinting in her eyes at pestering the little boy.

Hawthorne looked stunned at her for a second, as if he couldn’t believe he was being denied something, and quickly turned to me, “Aunt Elain’s being mean!”

We all laughed as the little boy pouted in disbelief, even more so when he saw us all laughing. His foot stomped the ground, his wings flaring a little.

The laughing calmed a little as Rhys, Cass, and Az entered the house. They stood in the doorway watching all of us standing around looking at a little grumpy Illyrian.

The child looked at the three males and ran over to Azriel slamming into his legs. He placed a hand lightly on his back and looked around in question. “They’re being mean to me Azzie!”

At that Rhys let out a laugh, Cassian joining in. My mate looked at me in question, “Is there a reason I have a grumpy child hiding in my legs?”

“He’s just trying to get snacks for our lunch. Which he wouldn’t expect that unless someone kept letting him sneak some.” I told him, lightly glaring in his direction, but sent love down the bond nonetheless.

Azriel picked the boy up, his wings fluttering away as he did. “She’s right, you have to eat your lunch before sweets.” Hawthorne looked at Azriel in shock.

“But you and Uncle Cassin always give snacks like that before dinner!” Everyone turned to look at the two in question, a little glimmer of amusement shining through.

Feyre looked to me with humor all over her face, “Well, now we know why he hardly eats his lunch and dinner now.”

It was later in the evening; you were trying to give the boy a quick little bath. He was mainly just splashing around. Azriel watched with amusement as you tried to run a cloth over him.

“You could help you know. I mean how did Rhys’ mother give all of you baths.” I say huffing wiping sweaty hair from my face. You were going to need a bath after this.

Azriel had a small smile on his usual blank face, “She usually gave up after the first five minutes. I’m surprised you’ve tried this for as long as you have.”

Having the child around has made him more emotionally viewable. Where he used to only show how he felt, few and far between, now it’s more common. Sitting on your heels you let an exhausted sigh leave.

“You know little thorn in my side,” You say pinching his nose, he laughs in response, “I’m just going to sit over here and when you deem yourself clean let me know.” The dark-haired boy nodded and went back to playing immediately.

You walked over and sat by Az, leaning your head against him. “Who knew raising a little Illyrian was such work.”

Azriel leaned his head down letting out a huff of a laugh. “Imagine more than one in a house.” And you did, just for a second. But it wasn’t Rhys, Cassian, or Azriel you were picturing. It was Hawthorne and a few others. Some that did look like Azriel and one that looked like you. You pictured it long enough that you must have somehow sent what you were thinking down the bond. Because Azriel sent nothing but joy and love back.

“Let’s get this one situated first,” Azriel whispered, arm wrapping around you. You smiled up at him, excitement glistening in your eyes.

By the time you sent Azriel to put the kid to bed, you stayed back to clean up the mess in the bathroom. By the time you got to the boys’ room, you could hear them talking.

“Why don’t I have ears like her?” It was Hawthorne asking the question, and it made you pause in confusion.

“Because she’s what is called High-Fae, and you’re an Illyrian. Like me.” There was shuffling, Azriel must have been tucking him in.

“So… does that mean she can’t be my mom?” It was a quiet question, and silence followed after it.

“What makes you say that little shadow?”

“Well, if I’m like you, and she’s not like us. Then she can’t be my mom, right? Like Nyx. Aunt Feyre and Uncle Rhys both have pointy ears, just like Nyx.”

“You don’t have to look like someone for them to be family. Just like me and your uncles don’t look alike, they’re still my brothers. Just like she can still be your mom. Now, it’s time for you to get to bed.” You smiled, and quickly wiped your face before entering the room.

“What are we still doing up little soldier?” You walked over to him and took Az’s spot on the bed. Hawthrone smiled at you, peeking out from under the covers.

You tucked him in just a little tighter, leaned over and gave him a kiss on the head then brushed his hair from his face.

You sat for a second, looking at your little joy, then whispered goodnight, and just when you went to shut the door you heard it. “Goodnight mama.”

Holding back your tears just a little, you turned back and said, “Goodnight little shadow.” Then shut the door. And turned to Azriel's chest to shed some of the tears.

“Come on,” he whispered, “Let’s get you cleaned up and then to bed.”

You had picked Hawthrone up from school a few days later when he asked you a question.

“You and Azriel are together, right?” It surprised you; it was an odd question for a six-year-old. “Like… Like Aunty Feyre and Uncle Rhys?”

“Yes. Just like them, me and Azriel are mates. You remember what mates are right?” I said holding his hand as we walked down the sidewalk by the Sidra. You and Azriel had talked to him about a few things before you guys could get him in a school. So, he could know who his family would be, and about some of the world.

He nodded his head, he knew the story of me and Azriel, at least as kid friendly as you could get with Az’s job. I mean you yourself were only a healer at the school before meeting the Inner Circle. Then Madja recruited you to help with what few kids came through her shop. After about three years you were Madja’s right-hand man, thus introducing you to the Inner Circle for all their bumps and bruises. So Hawthrone knew you two were mates, like Feyre and Rhysand, and Nesta and Cassian. Whilst Elain and Lucien’s dynamic still confused him a little.

“So, if you’re my mother, does that make Az my father?” You almost stumbled at the question. Azriel had struggled in the first few weeks of having Hawthrone, he didn’t have good parental figures, so trying to play dad to a kid was a struggle.

With Nyx he had no issue, he could play uncle, be there for a few hours but at the end of the day Nyx went back to his own parents.

“Do you want Azriel to be your father?” I asked a little hesitant, I didn’t want to cause any issue for Az, or Hawthorne. It hadn’t been that long ago that you guys got him out of a bad situation in an Illyrian camp. From his own father.

“I don’t know. I know he likes me now. Before it was… strange,”

“Confusing, you’re looking for the word confusing.”

“Cun-fushion.”

“Well, if you’re really confused then you could ask him. He always tells you that you can tell him anything. The same goes for asking questions. That’s called communicating.” Hawthorne sounded the word out to himself, then sat for a minute in thought. Right as you were about to ask him a question he perked up, wings twitching.

“Oo oo oo can we stop and get sweets!” You’ve got to pick a different path to walk along.

“We’re home-!”

“We got sweets!!”

“We got sweets! Hawthorne those were supposed to be a surprise.” Setting the box of treats down on the table of the River House you followed the tiny stuttering of feet flying through the house in the direction of the rest of the voices.

You found some of the family in the sitting room and joined Azriel on the arm of his chair. Hawthorne was already telling Elain about his very eventful day at school, using his arms to explain it better.

I leaned over just slightly so Az could hear me, “He was asking some questions on the walk here.”

Azriel turned and looked at me, a look of almost fear in his eyes. Then furrowed his eyebrows in question.

“Nothing serious was just asking if we were together, a few other things I’ll tell you alone.”

“He asked if we were together?” I laughed a little then ran a hand through his hair looking at my boy.

“Yea, I thought the same thing. Asked if it was the same way as Rhys and Feyre.”

“Was it serious? What he asked, which is why you don’t want to tell me here.” There’s that wariness that Azriel always had regarding us.

“Just… something I figured we could talk to him about later, about parentage.” Azriel is all but locked up at that. Hands that had been clasped together moved to hide almost, shadows coming to drape over him a little. One moved to join Hawthorne and wrapping around him. “Just the basics, but it could be time to tell him something though, before we all go to Windhaven.”

Azriel nodded his head, distress flowing down the bond, I sent reassurance back.

By the time dinner was done, the sweets were eaten, and everyone went off to their respective houses. You met Hawthorne and Azriel in his room with some cocoa. Whipp cream and cinnamon on top.

“Wanna know how I got these marks on my hands?” Hawthorne glanced down at Azriel’s hand, then to his face, an indescribable look on his little face. Then he slightly nodded.

“I was born to a lord in a camp. My mother wasn’t with him though, remember how you had called me a bastard when we first met?” Hawthorne nodded guiltily, “It’s okay, that’s what it’s called when your mother and father have a kid without being together. My father’s wife didn’t like it, didn’t like me.” Azriel took a deep breath, and I handed him a cup, so he had something to fidget with.

“They had two other sons, older that didn’t like. Since they didn’t like me, they kept me locked away in… my bedroom,” the safest option rather than a ‘dungeon’ “One day, my brothers decided to test how well we could heal…. By the time my father’s guards got there, it was too late, and the fire did this.”

“Did your father do anything to stop them from being mean to you…?” Hawthorne silently asked Azriel, looking at his hands and then back to his face.

“No. My father was a really bad man. Really mean too. Kept me away from people and from flying, but when they found out I could talk with the shadows, they took me to the camp we’ll go to when you’re older. And I met your Uncle Rhys and Uncle Cassian, and Aunt Mor.” Azriel told him, Hawthorne glanced in my direction now.

“Was my father like yours was?” Hawthorne asked me, Azriel eyes widened a little, I opened my mouth to answer and reassure him but Azriel beat me to hit.

“No! You are nothing like your father. Understood?” Hawthorne nodded, “Just like I’m not my father.”

Hawthorne sat for a second, even more silent than usual when pondering a question.

“Are… are you, my father? Like she’s my Mother?” A silent tear dripped down your mate's face, almost matching the ones building in your own.

“I am nothing like either of our fathers. And whilst I might not be the one who created you, your father, I can be your father. If you’ll allow me to.” Hawthorne’s eyes watered up then flung himself into Azriels’ arms, wings trying to wrap around him. Azriel hugged back and wrapped his own wings around him, as you sat taking in the scene.

He stood from his hugging position and took your hand, and the three of you went just two doors down to your own room. Where the three of you slept, you on the left, Azriel on the right, and just under Azriel’s wing and under your arms was Hawthorne. The little dark-haired, hazel-eyed Illyrian slept soundly, between his two parents.

Like it, tell me how you feel, share it with your friends. Share it with your grandma. Share it with the weird guy that lives at the end of the street who knows way too much about the K.G.B

Side note if you made it this far please dear god tell me what you would get the IC for solstice/Christmas presents. I have ideas for them all but Rhys. Please it can be on anom or anything 😂

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thelov3lybookworm · 1 month

Note

Lucien and Night Court Emissary Reader who were falling in love pre-UTM but she had to break it off/start being cold to keep the cruel High Lord and Court ruse up/Velaris secret safe. Now he's come back with Feyre and sees the truth, is being rejected by Elain, and Reader can't bear to watch him pine after someone who doesn't want him when she's still miserably in love with him.

Angsty but happy ending please ❤️

Anything.

Summary: She's ready to do anything to get him back.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: babes. anon. my darling baby. marry me plis. i LOVED THIS IDEA so much i wasnt ready to write it because i thought i might never do it justice, but i think i like how this thing came out, so thank you thank you THANK YOU anon for this request 🥹🥹🥹

anywas, enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Y/n watched him watch her.

Elain.

Soft, gentle Elain.

Nice, beautiful Elain.

Inconsiderate, unaware Elain.

Elain, who either did no care for who she hurt with her lack of decision making skills, or she genuinely had no idea that she was hurting her mate as she strung him along. Maybe it was just because of the sheltered and happy life Nesta provided for Elain, always keeping her away from the harsh truths of life, and while Y/n had admired that habit of her new friend, she could not help but resent her a little for it.

Y/n took a slow sip of the wine she held in her hand as she stared down from the dimly lit balcony at the ballroom floor, the twirling and swaying couples, wondering how the hell Lucien had changed so much.

So much that he'd gone from being hounded by pretty females falling at his feet and shoving their breasts in his face to get him to give them attention to begging for attention from someone that probably would not be able to tell if she was paining someone.

With a sigh, Y/n made to turn away, deciding that the sweet obliviousness was better than drowning herself in wine and bitter jealousy.

She felt his presence a moment before she smelled the night court high lord.

"Sister." He stepped forward, leaning his elbows onto the balustrade next to her. "Who hurt you?"

Y/n rolled her eyes, immediately relaxing in the presence of her older brother. "What makes you think someone hurt me?"

"Oh, are you telling me that you've decided to take up Azriel's job of brooding and glaring at people from a dark corner just for fun?"

Y/n said nothing, her eyes flitting all over the dance floor absently before settling on a head of fiery red that stood against the far wall, holding a champagne flute.

Rhys turned his head to glance at her when she sad nothing, then followed her gaze. "Oh. Did he kill your cat?"

Y/n released a frustrated breath. "Rhys."

"What?!"

"I don't have a cat."

"Oh my, I am sorry your highness."

Y/n was tempted to shove her middle finger in his face, and he might have read it on her face, as he huffed out a laugh. "Sorry. But come on. What happened? You know that you can tell me anything, right?"

Y/n turned away from the view she had been staring at, instead leaning her back against the railing, letting her head fall back as her arms came to rest on the expensive wood of the balustrade.

"I do."

Silence settled around the two siblings, comfortable and welcome, heavy with internal thoughts, filled with the music from the orchestra in the corner and soft humming from Rhys.

Before long, Y/n started humming along with him, almost subconsciously. She hadn't even realised it until after a few moments, and she smiled at the wall she now stared at.

"Y/n. I've known for quite some time now that you have been hiding something from me. If there's anything I can do for you and whatever you are doing, then please let me know. You don't have to tell me what it is-"

"It's Elain."

Rhys fell quiet, and Y/n sighed. "Come. Let's go somewhere more... private."

Rhys followed her quietly down the stairs and out into the hallway, letting her lead him to her room.

He did not ask anymore questions, nor did he speak, but Y/n could feel the intrigue and curiosity rolling off of him.

Y/n did not speak even when the two of them arrived to her bedroom, walking over to the small cupboard in the corner she stashed her favourite drinks in, including pineapple juice and champagne. She also kept a bottle of whiskey there in case her brother decided to give her a visit.

"So... what happened with Elain?" Rhys spoke as Y/n was pouring him a glass of whiskey, and Y/n steeled her resolve. There was no way she could keep it to herself anymore, because if she did, she would very likely explode.

And anyways, this was her brother. She could tell him anything.

"So... you remember how you sent me to that spring court ball to represent night court?"

Rhys nodded, his attention rapt.

"Yeah well, I met Lucien for the first time there." Y/n busied herself by popping open the bottle of some bubbling champagne, letting it slowly trickle out and into the flute she held, her eyes fixed on the little bubbles that floated from the bottom of the glass.

"He, of course, being the charming male he is, got me running after him. We talked that night. We talked till it was morning, till we knew I needed to return or else you would worry." Y/n smiled softly as she remembered the way she had made Lucien laugh till he was telling her to shut up because his stomach hurt.

"Oh." Y/n could see the pieces falling in place for her brother.

"Everytime after that when I told you I was going out to party all night, I was just travelling to the outskirts of spring court and just talking with him the whole night." Y/n blinked away the prickling in her eyes at that. "I started to fall for him, and he reciprocated."

Y/n let that marinate in the air a little before continuing.

"But then Amarantha came, took his eye. He pulled away, drawing into himself and shutting off anyone who tried to comfort him."

"But how come I never saw you with him?"

Y/n smiled sadly. "He had returned to spring with Tam, and I was trapped under the mountain. When he did visit, he would always hide in shame because he thought I would hate him after he lost his eye." She downed the rest of the liquor left in her glass, grimacing. "He did approach me once, and I..."

"Fuck." Rhys mumbled under his breath after a moment of silence, staring at her. "You told him to leave you alone, didn't you?"

Y/n closed her eyes, leaning back into her chair. He cursed again.

"He probably thought it was because of his eye. Or maybe that I was playing him all along. I don't know why, but he accepted it. Did not fight back. I let him believe it. I did not want him to get any more unnecessary unwanted attention from Amarantha. That was the only way that felt right."

Y/n opened her eyes to find Rhys bowed, his elbows resting on his knees as he clutched his head in frustration. "Fuck Y/n. I thought you were smarter than that."

Y/n sighed. "Apparently not."

Rhys reached out to grab the bottle of whiskey from the low table in front of them, drinking directly from the bottle.

Y/n simply watched him.

"Why are you getting so worked up over this? I thought you didn't like Lucien?"

Even just saying his name made her heart ache in longing.

Rhys stayed silent for a moment before standing, extending his hand towards her. "I might dislike him, but I can tell how much you like him. And your happiness comes above all else."

When Y/n stared at him and his hand, unmoving, he wiggled his fingers. "Come on, let's go get you your knight in shining armour."

Y/n's eyes widened. "What?"

He gave her a wicked grin. "Trust me baby sister."

Y/n thought over it for a moment. She knew whatever her brother's unhinged brain had come up with would probably be uncomfortable, but it would definitely help her out.

So, with an exasperated sigh, she stood, slipping her hand into his. "For everyone's sake, Rhys, I hope that whiskey hasn't gotten to your head yet and that you are not planning something stupid."

"Me? Stupid?" His grin widened. "Never."

Now that, concerned Y/n.

•○🌑○•

Y/n knew she made a mistake when trusting Rhys the moment he led her to a secluded room in the house of wind.

He opened the door, shoved her in and then locked it behind her. She turned, slamming her fists on the door as she cursed at him. He only laughed, telling her to wait and be patient.

Y/n huffed, folding her arms across her chest as she took in the room he had brought her to.

It was a cosy, intimate place, with a circular table in the center of the room, two chairs on opposite sides of it. There was a huge spread of food on it, most of it she'd already seen in the living room earlier in the evening.

The entirety of the room was covered in nothing but candles, giving the darkened room a soft, romantic glow. And slowly, things started clicking for Y/n.

Rhys had gone to get Lucien.

Shit.

Y/n whipped around, frantically searching for a way out.

While she was still in love with him, in no way was she ready for the confrontation.

She knew he hated her for breaking his heart. There was no way he didn't. She hated herself for it. She did not know how she would go about apologising without it looking like she only wanted him after he'd found someone better.

The glass doors leading to the balcony were thrown wide open, the soft gauzy curtains fluttering gently in the breeze. Y/n stared out at the night sky mournfully. She had taken more after her father than her mother, and so while her brother was half illyrian and could summon wings, she could not.

Now, more than ever, Y/n cursed her father for not being a winged male.

The door was locked, and winnowing was out of the question. Begging someone to let her out would tire her out and make her get angrier, so that had to be scratched out too.

Looking around defeatedly as she accepted her fate, Y/n found a full body length mirror against a far wall.

Meeting her own eyes, Y/n walked closer, knowing that her brother would have left no exit way for her to run from the situation at hand. So there was only one thing she could do, and that was prepare herself.

She studied her own figure, turning this way and that as she smoothed down the nonexistent wrinkles from the skirts of her dark maroon gown that reminded her of Lucien in all his glory.

"You can do this." Y/n muttered in the silence of the room, staring intensely at herself as she pushed back her shoulders and took in a deep breath. "He deserves to know."

Not a moment later, the sound of a lock clicking open echoed through the room, and Y/n winced, turning in time to see Lucien stumbling in and then the door being pulled shut.

He grumbled under his breath, fixing and pulling on his sleeves. He glanced up, then stilled, his eyes filled with surprise.

"Y/n." He addressed her as he straightened.

"Lucien..." He stared at her, his eyes slowly and leisurely roaming her figure. The look in his eyes was just like the way he used to look at her fifty years ago, when everything had been right, perfect. It made Y/n blush, and she had to swallow in an attempt to peel her tongue off of the roof of her mouth. "How- how have you been?"

He met her eyes. "I've been good. Good enough to not die I guess. How about you?"

Y/n swallowed the guilt climbing up her throat like bile. Maybe it was bile. Damn, should not have drank that champagne. "I'm good. As good as I can be without you-"

"Don't."

Y/n looked down at the floor, her blush increasing in embarrassment as he took a look around the room, his golden eye clicking softly. "I'm sorry-"

Then his eyes flew to hers, accusation written in every angle of his beautiful face as his metal eye whirred. "Why did he bring me here?"

Y/n swallowed. "I- if you're saying that I made him drag you here, stop. I did not tell him to bring you here."

Lucien glanced around the room again with a skeptical look. "So he just decided that putting the two of us in the same room with such a setting would be funny?"

Y/n closed her eyes, forcing herself to speak the truth. "I... was just talking to Rhys and he found out that we were seeing each other before under the mountain happened, and he did this by himself."

Lucien scoffed, making her open her eyes to look at him. "And did he tell you why?"

"Lucien-"

"Of course, his brother's happiness matters far more than a bond to him. I just know he's doing this to keep me away from Elain to give Azriel a chance-"

"My brother is strictly against Azriel and Elain getting together-"

"Oh yes, your brother is a fucking saint who can never-"

"Lucien!"

He turned away with an incredulous laugh, walking to the balcony and leaning against the railing. "You've made your feelings very clear Y/n. You've hurt me enough for one lifetime. Leave me alone now. Let me wallow in hope and defeat."

Y/n followed him out. "You don't have to wallow alone." She mumbled, her voice quiet.

"And who will be with me? Feyre? Elain? You?" He laughed, a humourless sound that shot sadness straight to Y/n's heart like a bolt. "I'm always meant to be alone."

Y/n's heart broke right alongside his voice. "Lucien that's not the case."

"Then tell me what is, because as I see it, everyone seems set on hurting me or leaving me. Tell me. Tell me what the case is."

Y/n looked away from him, staring out over the twinkling light of the rainbow and the snake like Sidra cutting through Velaris.

He huffed, his disappointment evident as he followed her gaze. "Exactly."

Y/n was silent for a moment, contemplating the best way to explain without having him leave.

The best answer was to let all her thoughts free.

So she took a deep breath, composing herself, and began in a soft, calm voice.

"I still love you, more than anyone ever could. I hope you know that." Y/n felt his gaze returning to rest on her face, but she did not look away from the glittering Sidra, knowing she would lose her nerve if she did.

"Amarantha? She had taken a special interest in Rhys and me. Anyone who was found even remotely close to us, whether it be a courtier or someone we just talked to that day, ended up dead, tortured and beaten."

She swallowed, trying to not let those memories resurface. "You also had dug up your own grave. What were you thinking, telling her to crawl back to the hole she crawled out of?"

She finally removed her eyes from the Sidra, using them to glare at her past lover. He was not deterred, lifting his chin as he turned his body to face her fully.

"Nothing other than the urge to get you to safety. I was dumb. I know. But I don't regret it. Even if it cost me my eye." With a meaningful look, he mumbled out softly. "But it was no use, as it cost me you too."

Y/n stared at him, her nervousness long forgotten. "Lucien... why do you think I told you to leave me alone?"

"Because I lost my eye?"

Her eyes widened, and her brain practically stopped functioning. All she could do was whisper, "What?"

He gave her a look. "What? You told me to leave you-"

"Lucien I- no." She facepalmed, releasing a frustrated sigh. "No Lucien. That was not the reason why."

Lucien shifted uncomfortably, not saying anything. "I- thank you?"

Despite her efforts, a smile made its way onto her face, and she slapped his chest. "You dumbass. I pushed you away because I did not want Amarantha and her cronies targeting you because of our relationship."

Lucien blinked. "Oh."

"Yeah, oh." Y/n sighed. "Look Lucien. I... I know there were better ways to tell you to stay away, but I knew you would try your best to stop me from my instincts to protect you, and when you did not put up much of a fuss or even ask me for a reason, I thought you'd been waiting to get rid of me."

Lucien laughed then, a soft, pained but genuine sound. "Looks like we need to learn how to communicate."

Y/n smiled up at him, her eyes prickling a little.

He said nothing for a long time, just staring at her, his eyes swirling with an emotion that Y/n desperately wanted to name but was too scared to.

Y/n waited for him to speak, to move, to do something, with bated breath. He just looked away, releasing a breath.

"Lucien?"

He shook his head.

Concerned, Y/n went to touch his arm.

He recoiled, an Y/n instantly pulled her hand back, her heart breaking again.

"I- I didn't mean to make you uncomfotable-"

"No."

Y/n paused. "Um... No?"

"Why Y/n? Why now?"

"Because I can't watch you pine for someone who does not care while I'm still miserably in love with you!"

He shook his head, his eyes fixed on something in the far distance. "That's not- no. Y/n, I... you know I'm a mated male now."

Y/n reared back like he'd slapped her, and if she was being honest, it would have been better if he dd, because there was nothing in the world that hurt more than hearing that.

Y/n stared at him, trying not to feel betrayed.

"You- you're not mated, Lucien."

His jaw clenched, but he remained quiet.

"You, are not, a mated male-"

"Well I know that-"

"Then why do you pretend that you are unavailable for anyone-"

"I have a mate now-"

"Who does not want you!" Y/n screamed, her chest heaving. A dark look crossed his face, and his eyes hardened as he turned away.

"Thanks for the reminder that I'm unwanted, Y/n. Its almost like I'd forgotten."

Y/n kicked herself mentally, reaching for him. "Lucien, I did not mean that-"

"Oh you for sure did. Don't lie." He mumbled softly as he was stepped through the threshold into the warm interior of the house, like he was defeated, and Y/n wished that he'd screamed at her, fought with her, because that would definitely have been better than this torture of watching his shoulders curve inwards.

She stepped forward, her dress swishing around her legs, tears slipping out of her eyes and rolling down her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around his waist. She pressed her cheek into the defined muscles of his back, knowing her tears were going to stain the fine threads of his navy blue jacket.

"Lucien please." Her voice broke as she spoke, and he froze, letting her squeeze him tighter with every sob that ripped through her.

The two of them remained in that embrace for far too long and not long enough, unmoving and unspeaking, the only sounds her soft cries and his breaths.

With a jolt, Y/n realised he was crying too.

"Lucien, I need you. I need you so bad." She turned her head, digging her face harder into his back.

He took a deep breath, his chest expanding under her fingers from where they'd climbed up his body as the two of them cried.

"Y/n-"

"No. No, let me finish." Y/n sniffled, trying to get her voice to stop wobbling. "I love you Lucien, and it pains me greatly to see you get hurt by her."

"I'm used to it by now." He whispered. If it was even possible, her arms tightened around him more.

"Lucien I love you. I need you back. Come back to me, let her go." Y/n cried.

"It's not that simple my love."

Y/n's heart- whatever shattered remains were left in her chest by this point- froze at the term of endearment. He didn't even seem to notice.

Y/n just absorbed and basked in the normalcy in which he spoke, as if the two of them were back when everything had been okay fifty years ago. As if the last fifty years had never happened.

Like the two of them were not standing so close but were still so far away from each other.

"It could be if you wanted it to be." Y/n mumbled into his back, wondering if there was any way she could press closer still.

He sighed, his body relaxing as he let his head fall back. Then he turned.

Y/n had to force herself to breathe so as not to pass out as his eyes met hers again. They now swirled with so much more emotions than they had before.

He lifted his hand silently, letting his fingers trace the apple of her cheeks.

She did not let her arms fall from where they were now wrapped around his waist.

Moments passed.

Months, years, millenia.

Still, they stood in their embrace, quiet, lost in thoughts in the arms of the person they loved most, sacred bond or not, the moment only broken by him parting his lips to speak.

Y/n tracked the action eagerly.

"I... guess you're right."

Y/n blinked, her brain slow to process as she was so busy trying not to bite the soft flesh of his lips.

When she realised what he said though, her eyes flew to his, alert.

"What?"

He swallowed. "I just have to... tell her she can be free. That I won't bother her again. That will do it, right?"

Y/n blinked again, shocked at how easily he'd agreed.

He rose a brow at her.

"What, you think I don't love you still?" Her lips parted in shock at that, and his lips lifted at one corner. "You will need more than a few harsh words to make me hate you-"

Y/n did not let him finish.

His lips were soft against hers, moving in a rhythm more familiar to Y/n than the back of her own hand. And the fact that he kissed her back without any hesitation made her melt.

And, maybe, if possible, fall more in love with him.

The both of them were reluctant to pull away, but air was also a necessity, as much as Y/n was loathe to admit it.

She blinked open her eyes, finding him already staring at her, a small quirk to his lips and a blush on his face.

She smiled up at him shyly, as if she just hadn't been the one to initiate the kiss. She tried to hide her face in his neck, just like she used to do before, but he caught her chin between his fingers.

Just like he used to do before.

He grinned at her, nudging his nose against hers. "Look at that facade, getting all shy."

"Shut up." She mumbled.

His smile softened.

"We might have to start all over again."

She straightened, nodding. "I know. I'm ready to do anything it takes."

He smirked at her. "Anything?"

She matched his expression, standing on her toes to kiss his nose to emphasize her point.

"Anything."

•○🌑○•

Whore hive (because yall bitches need to read this): @artists-ally @thehighladywrites @berryzxx @clairebear08 @riddlesb1tch @cupidojenphrodite

General taglist Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @eve175 @starsinyourseyes @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium

Lucien Vanserra Taglist: @mirandasidefics @fell-in-luvs

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surielstea · 7 days

Text

Words on Paper

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel’s jealous over a male in your book and it’s hilarious.

Warnings: Just fluff, short Drabble :)

1k words

You and Nesta hadn't shut up about the men in your books all morning. The new Sellyn Drake novel had come out less than a week ago and the both of you couldn't stop raving about it, you swore you had dreams about the characters, and when you weren't caught up in the plot you were analyzing the characters, the male love interest specifically who Nesta and you were all but frothing at the mouth over.

"I need him, unfortunately," Nesta sighed, looking over to me as we held our planks. Valkyrie training seemed to go a lot faster when the both of you got the chance to debrief over chapters and share what you were passionate about, Cassian didn't seem to care as long as we stayed on task and kept up with the movements.

The exercises had become second nature to the both of you, sure it wasn't as mindless as breathing but after it's been part of your routine for weeks it truly does come naturally, like a second language that only the two of you can speak.

Azriel was slow to insanity at this point. He couldn't seem to adjust to the idea of you taking interest in anyone but him. With Mates, the rule is that if the bond is accepted then there's no one else for that person, intertwined by fate.

So why was he so irritated when you rambled too long about a guy from a book?

"Are you two working out your mouths too?" Azriel stands above you, arms crossed over his chest. Slowly, you look up at him with a wide grin. "Sorry, sir," you tease. Nesta shakes her head in exasperation and you giggle.

It took one minute of silence until Nesta and you were whispering amongst each other again.

Azriel seems to have given up days ago, his eyes narrowed at you from across the sparring mats, Cassian next to him as they drink their waters.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” Azriel asks his brother, continuing to stare at both of their mates. “Does what?” Cassian turned to him with an arched brow. “That they’re so obsessed with those men from their little smut novels,” Azriel mutters and Cassian nearly laughs at the death glare the Shadow Singer was saving for the fictional male, who as of late was threatening to take his wife away.

“It’s just words on paper,” Cass shrugs, bending down to place his water on the ground. “I know but, the idea of her wanting anyone else gets under my skin,” Azriel argues and this time Cassian does laugh, it was so odd to see the revered Spymaster so torn up about some guy, who wasn’t even real. “What’re you jealous of him?” Cassian scoffs through his laughter. Azriel rolls his eyes and puts his water down. “Whatever, just don’t come crying when you can’t satisfy Nesta anymore,” He grumbled.

“I doubt that day will come,” Nesta hums from behind the Shadow Singer. He knew she was there, you with her, but he needed to get his point across. “Hey hun, you ready to go?” You dip under his arm, placing a hand on his bare chest. He only nodded in reply.

“Hey, remember what I said, it’s just words Az,” Cassian said before you got the chance to winnow him away, he nodded once more then you took him home.

You didn’t want to know what the General was going on about, you could tell from training Azriel was a little irritated but you couldn’t remember doing anything to irk him.

“You gonna tell me what’s wrong or just keep pouting like a baby?” You ask and he scowls down at you. You smile, hands coming to his jaw and pressing a soft kiss to his lips, he barely has time to reciprocate it before you’re pulling away.

“What’s got you so tense?” You smush his cheeks together and he just stares at you in reply, so you begin to guess. “Something Cass did?” You ask and he shakes his head no. “Something I did?” He doesn’t move and you deflate, flinging your arms over his shoulders and melting into him. “Can’t you just tell me what’s wrong, please?” You sigh into his neck, already admitting defeat. “Do you like him more than me?” He blurts and you stiffen, pulling away to look up at him confused. “Like who?” You utter. “The guy in your stupid book,” He grumbled and you openly cackled before slapping a hand over your lips. “It’s not funny,” He groans backing away from your touch and plopping down onto the sofa, where he could sulk in peace. “I know, I’m sorry Az,” You say, taking deep breaths to control your giggles. “I’m just saying, what does he have that I don’t?” He frowns and you walk over to him, sprawling over his lap and straddling his hips. “Perhaps a control on his emotions?” You tease and he grumbles beneath his breath like a child, looking away from you.

It was true that Azriel was quite explosive. One would think he’d be less reactive as the Spymaster and yet he might’ve been the quickest to action out of all the inner circle. It was a weakness, something he was working on. It was rude of you to point it out but you make up for it by peppering a line of loving kisses up the side of his face.

“I love you, okay? Only you,” You reassure. “Those men, they’re meant to be thirsted over, you understand that don’t you?” You ask and the male nods. “I just don’t want you wanting anyone else,” He looks at me and my grin widens. “Awh, Az,” You wrap your arms around him and squeeze him tight. “I’m all yours, don’t worry,” You muffle into his neck. “Yeah? All mine?” He asks and you nod rapidly before saying, “Promise,”

“Now stop acting like a big baby,” you pull away from the hug and hold his face in your hands. “I’m gonna go bathe, you gonna keep moping out here or do you wanna join me?” You tease. He doesn’t answer and instead picks you up from where you sit and walks you straight to the bathing chambers.

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 2 months

Text

Pairing(s): Rhysand x Reader, Cassian x Reader, Azriel x Reader

Warnings: poly relationship, smut, sharing is caring, poly mates, fff what i would give to have the bat boys as my mates, voyeurism, masturbation, bratty reader, disobeying rhys and the gang, punishment, overstimulation

Words: 1761

Summary: One major flaw of your's: You were cocky of not just your own strengths, but also the guard dogs at your beck and call. Your three mates.

You knew you were in deep shit the moment you nailed the coffin into your decision.

Rhysand forbade you from acting out on your own during this reconnaissance. Normally he wouldn't have said anything; you were good at whatever you put your mind to and you knew how to behave yourself unlike Cassian who was known to blow his cover from time to time. You and Azriel made an excellent spy pair. Both levelheaded and calculating, not to mention very deadly. Lacking the useful shadows that were unique to Azriel, that didn't stop you from being just as intimidating.

Or perhaps reckless.

That was one major flaw of your's. You were cocky of not just your strengths, but also the guard dogs at your beck and call. Your three mates. Yes, THREE.

A fae would be lucky to find their soulmate in their lifetime. Many never felt that electrifying spark of your invisible bond being snapped into place. And you'd felt it three times. A phenomenon that had never been witnessed before in all of fae history. It caused Rhysand to delve deep into the House of Wind's library to look up whatever he could about fae soulmates. He even went so far as to ask Helion, whom he had a somewhat friendly relationship with, if he could scrounge up any information on his end. The Day Court high lord upon hearing of this immediately became highly interested.

Of course you would feel indestructible. On top of the world even. In your pocket you possessed a High Lord, a general and a spymaster. You yourself were known as the Mistress of Poison.

None of that would save you from disobeying Rhysand's orders though. Sometimes you forgot that you HAD to obey him. Even if the four of you stood together as equals, there was still a power dynamic when regarding Rhysand. Azriel would not be covering for you this time.

"It was the perfect opportunity Rhys!" Trying to argue your case once more, Rhysand merely holds a hand up to quiet you. You pout, biting down on your lower lip to prevent anymore words from slipping out. Nervously you glance to either side of you where Cassian and Azriel stood.

Az's blue eyes catch you in the corner, he stiffly shakes his head. Don't argue, love.

Even Cassian's voice chimes in You've really done it this time.

He wasn't exaggerating. Rhys' pretty violet eyes were hardened. "You could have gotten hurt." More importantly, you blocked me from your thoughts. Like you think I wouldn't know. "You disobeyed me. You could have even blown Azriel's position."

Unlikely. . . Azriel half muses but returns his face to a neutral expression when he caught Rhysand's gaze sharply slice into him.

Utterly foolish, you utter "But I didn't get hurt. And I didn't blow Azriel's cover." The pressure of his power thickens the air around you. "I succeeded in killing them, didn't I? Succeeded in what we were sent out to do."

Cauldron, zip your beautiful mouth. Mentally hisses Cassian. From the corner of your eye you catch a twitch of his wings.

You were digging your own grave yet you couldn't stay silent. Rhys' doubt of your capability wounded you.

Rhys sighs deeply through his nose, the rigidness of his broad shoulders reduces when he reads your thoughts. "That's not the issue here."

"You don't think I can take care of myself? That I can't be trusted like Cassian and Azriel?"

Inhaling deeply through his nose, Rhysand's deep black hair shifts as he shakes his head. "Perhaps this is my fault. You think you don't have to listen to me because you're my mate. That you don't have to listen to any of us."

From either side, you suddenly feel hands clamp down on your wrists. Rounded eyes gawk at Cassian before swiveling to Azriel. You give your wrists an experimental tug to test your restraints. Fingers like iron manacles.

"You're spoiled."

Brat.

The click of his boots hammer into your chest each step he took.

"I can't let this insubordination continue. I know you can take care of yourself. If you had discussed this with us, we would not be in the situation we're in now."

You didn't even tell Az where you'd rushed off to. And you didn't care about what you would be putting him through with your vanishing act.

Finally Rhysand stands in front of you. His entire hand was able to grab your entire jaw. "I'm proud that you succeeded. But I'm going to have to remedy your arrogance."

You try to wrench your face out of his grasp, in response Rhysand tightens his hold. He's not looking at you, addressing the other two. "Take her to my room. I'll be there in a moment. Have her ready."

A thrilling surge shoots through your core, alongside terror that you would be at their complete mercy. Unable to touch and coax them. All of you knew you wouldn't apologize for what you did. This wasn't the first time you'd callously acted on your own. To your credit, it had been quite some time since you'd last disobeyed Rhys.

"Really should have kept your mouth shut." Cassian barks out a laugh as he and Azriel haul you off.

Azriel shakes his head but even he has a smile quirking up the corners of his mouth. "Maybe it's you who needs to shut your mouth Cass. She may be at our mercy, but I doubt that exempts you from having your dick bitten."

He rolls his eyes. "She would never! Love my cock too much, don't you?"

In reply you snap your jaws at him before turning your attention to Az. "You know I didn't mean anything bad by what I did. I know I should have taken your feelings into consideration-"

"But you didn't. Don't think you can sweeten me up with a belated apology." Hazel eyes narrow at you. He would be offering no help to you. "Be silent and accept your punishment.

The cover over your eyes disorients you even more. Still you were able to distinguish whose cock was shoved into your mouth and whose teeth were sweetly nibbling on your clit causing you to cry out and beg for mercy.

You'd already orgasmed twice and your poor clit was overstimulated to the point where pleasure bordered pain.

You try to yank your hands free from Rhys' magic that bound you. His heavy gaze weighing you down. You didn't require sight, of course Rhysand would be watching. Probably fisting his own thick cock that was beading with precum. He wouldn't waste his seed on masturbating though.

"Alright. Have her present." Rhys voice sounds lazy as he commands his general and spymaster to stop.

Suddenly your body is pulled this way and that until your face is pressed against a pillow, ass positioned high up. Rough hands spread your legs so your already messy cunt is on display for the High Lord of the Night Court.

There's a sharp smack to your ass that has you yelping.

Another.

And another.

Then obtrusive fingers slide right into your exhausted pussy. You'd already taken Cassian and Azriel. Twice.

A hand, most likely Az's, strokes your sweat soaked hair.

"We're a team, are we not?" Rhysand's harsh tone clips through your pants.

"Y-Yes." At that point you'd allow all three of them to try and shove their dicks inside of your cunt if it meant you could get water and some rest. "M'sorry. . ."

"We talk things out together." He removes his fingers and you could feel the spongy tip of his cock prod at you. "None of us make a move until all of us agree. Was that not the plan? Don't apologize just to me."

"M'sorry Cass. . . S-Sorry Az. . ." You're barely able to catch your breath when you feel Rhysand breach your folds. Your nails cling desperately to the sheets under you.

Cassian laughs. "I know you are, sweetheart. I forgive you."

Azriel's scarred digits are still weaving through your hair as he hums. "Just remember next time. Don't let it happen again."

"Though I dare say she likes being punished." Darkly laughs Cassian when Rhysand finally snaps his hips forward to sheathe himself inside of you.

He stretches your walls to their limit in a ferocious rhythm that has you unattractively squealing. Rhysand's grip on your waist is firm as he keeps you in position with the help of your other two mates. You can't help the drool that dribbles out of the corner of your mouth. Especially when his balls keep tapping against your clit.

Through his own groans of pleasure at the absolute death grip your pussy had on his shaft, Rhysand manages to pull himself together to ask "What do you guys think, should I make her cum again?"

"N... N. . . No!" You helplessly protest from under him.

They just laugh.

"Never heard you reject an orgasm before." Azriel cheekily comments.

Rhysand must have thought it a good idea since you felt another white hot jolt when the pad of his finger lands on your poor clit that throbbed with its own heartbeat. "Our High Lady can take one more."

You thought you'd ascended to another plane of existence.

Your boys spent the next two hours bathing you from the mess they'd made of your body.

With feather light touches, Azriel gently ran a soft towel over your sensitive skin.

Sitting between Rhysand's legs, your High Lord washed your hair. When he came across a knot, Rhysand coaxed it free without the harsh tugging they'd previously been doing with it. He'd asked you to recount to him how you'd killed the target. Now that the hard feelings were over, your boys wanted to hear about your success.

After bathing, Cassian presents you with a pre-warmed towel that engulfed your whole being.

Once in bed, your eyes grew warm. "I am sorry. Really. We are a team. I shouldn't have acted on my own."

Rhysand leans down to brush his lips along the bridge of your nose before kissing you. "You don't have to apologize anymore."

Cassian, being your favorite teddy bear, slithers under the sheets with you and pulls you to his expansive chest. He insisted on being first in the cuddling duties. Rhysand and Azriel unfortunately had to finish their own respective duties. But the general was all your's for the rest of the night.

He kisses the crown of your head. "Rest sweetling."

Azriel kisses your cheek before standing tall. "Have sweet dreams."

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thebadgerclan · 2 years

Text

Sandwich

Pairing: Cassian x reader

Summary: The bond finally snapped...

It felt like someone had delivered a punch to your stomach, tearing the breath from your lungs. Cassian stood across the room from you, his hazel eyes locked on yours. The mating bond had snapped into place between you, and you felt yourself being pulled towards him, like a rope tied around your chest. Both you and Cassian were speechless, standing perfectly still as you stared at each other.

Then you turned on your heel and ran, and Cassian felt his heart shatter. He’d pined after you for nearly three decades but had never been able to muster the nerve to confess his feelings. The Illyrian General, Lord of Bloodshed, could raze an entire army but got cold feet when it came to the female he liked. For all he knew, you’d rejected the bond, and Cassian could feel the stirrings of the tell-tale madness that accompanied it.

He found Rhys in the library, his brother immediately scenting Cassian’s distress. “We’re mates,” he said weakly, fighting to keep tears at bay. “We’re mates and she ran. She rejected me.” “Cass,” Rhys said, opening his arms to his brother. The male fell into them, allowing himself a few moments of weakness. Rhysand comforted his brother, leading him to sit in the armchair he’d vacated. “It’ll be okay, Cass,” he said, but the general shook his head. He was breaking, and he knew that nothing could fix him.

***

You turned on your heel and ran, fighting the pull to run into your mate’s arms. Your mate! Mother above, Cassian was your mate! After 50 years of silently longing for him, the bond had snapped, and you were absolutely elated. The timing had never felt right to confess your feelings for Cassian: first Rhys had been taken Under The Mountain, leaving you and the Inner Circle shattered, then Cassian had been called away to Windhaven for nearly 10 years, there had never been a good time.

Perhaps that was why the bond had waited until now to snap into place, when things were calm and you had time to spend with each other. You rounded the corner, and Nuala and Cerridwen startled at your sudden appearance. “I need to make a sandwich,” you panted, and without asking why, the twins set a loaf of bread, a chunk of glazed ham, and a block of cheese before you.

It wasn’t a pretty sandwich. One slice of bread was far thicker than the other, the ham bore jagged marks from where the knife had slipped, and the cheese…..well, it was there too. You barely breathed a “thank you” to Nuala and Cerridwen before you were darting from the kitchens, following the incessant tugging on the bond. You found Cassian in the library, tears drying on his cheeks, Rhysand knelt at his side

Your mate looked up at you, at the plate in your hands, and blinked. Just blinked, in complete disbelief. “It’s a mess,” you said, holding out the plate.” “I know it’s bad, but I can make you something else if you want. Whatever you want, Cassian.” Slowly, the Illyrian rose to his feet, walking slowly towards you. You looked into those eyes, those beautiful hazel eyes, and felt your heart skip a beat.

“You…” he said, choking on his words. “You accept it? You accept me?” You nodded, tears rolling down your own cheeks. “Yes, Cassian, I accept you, the bond, everything. I’m sorry I ran off like that, but I just couldn’t wait. I wanted to make it official.” Without breaking eye contact, Cassian reached down, took the haphazardly made sandwich, tore off a single bite, took the plate from your hand and tossed it behind him, the sandwich joining it. Rhys simply smiled, cleaning the shattered plate and sandwich with magic before vacating the room, wanting to be long gone before the frenzy ensued.

“My mate,” Cassian said, trailing one hand down your cheek before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush to his body. His lips ghosted over yours, teasing the kiss you so badly wanted. “How long I’ve wanted you.” “How long?” Cassian pressed his lips to yours, his tongue gently parting them. “30 years,” he said into your mouth, and you moaned softly. “I’ve wanted you for almost 50.”

Cassian growled, kissing you harder, and you felt the evidence of his desire pressed against your waist. His wings encircled you, and you breathed his scent in: campfires and sword polish, with the barest hint of springtime. “I love you,” you whispered, afraid to shatter the beauty of the moment. “Cassian, my mate, I love you. I promise that I’ll alw-” You were cut off with a kiss, and your mate lifted you into his arms, carrying you over to the sofa.

“I love you too, my mate, but save the flowery declarations for the ceremony.” It was clear that Cassian had other things on his mind. When the two of you finally paused for food and rest, there wasn’t a surface in the library that Cassian hadn’t fucked you on. You were snuggled against his chest, the sheets of your bed draped over your waist, your mate’s wings draped over you along with his arms. “You want a mating ceremony?” you asked, and Cassian smiled, kissing your nose. Of course I do, Y/N. I love you, and I want to show our friends how much I love you. And there are plenty of promises I want to make you, mate. And yeah, I want to show you off.” You beamed, nuzzling your face into Cassian’s chest. “But not for at least a week. I feel like I could kill anyone who looks at you for more than a second.”

Cassian purred, tightening his arms and wings around you. “Good. Because all I want to do is enjoy my mate.” The male kissed you then, which led to another several rounds of sex. When the frenzy died down, you and Cassian had a formal mating ceremony at the River House, which was overseen by a priestess. He swore the traditional Illyrian vows to you as well as several of his own volition, and you vowed to love, cherish, and protect him for as long as you would live. At the end of the ceremony, you presented Cassian with another sandwich, but this one was more well made.

#cassian x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar cassian #acotar cassian x reader #a court of thorns and roses reader insert

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illyrian-dreamer · 1 year

Text

ACOTAR Masterlist

GIF by kennedy1917sworld

*(Indicates smut)

Azriel:

Changing Shadows (complete series):

Summary: You have a new role in the Inner Circle — Heard Guard of Velaris. And as Rhys’s younger sister, you feel you have a lot to prove.

You and the Shadowsinger are also growing closer, and tension builds as your relationship changes from friendship to something else...

How will you juggle your feelings for Azriel and the dangers that come with your new role, without disappointing the rest of the Inner Circle and the Night Court?

Overwritten (complete series)

Summary: After months as his prisoner, Hybern has hijacked your mind, turning you into an enemy of your home, your family, and your mate, Azriel.

And Then There Were None

Summary: In the lead up to the war, Hybern releases a catastrophic spell that wipes out all humans, sparing just one.

Abandoned in the desolate human lands, you scavenge to survive long enough to find your family.

Reluctantly, you are found by the Shadowsinger as fate intervenes to guide you under his watchful eye.

Part 1 | Part 2

One shots:

A Shadowsinger’s intuition

Feel too much

Confessions at Starfall

Stay with me

Spin the bottle

In the arms of understanding*

Drabble:

Salad (fluff)

Cassian:

One shots:

Tides and turmoil

With benefits*

Remnants of a star

Azriel and Cassian:

Our Girl (series)

Summary: Deeming you unfit for a mission, the Inner Circle have betrayed your trust and shattered your life’s mission to avenge you sister. And the two males you love most were at the centre of it all.

Rhys:

Series

Dance with the devil

Summary: You attempt to rob the High Lord of the Night Court.

Part 1 |

One shots:

Two lessons in one*

Make a bargain with me

Bat boys:

Drabble:

Bat boys react to being called ‘bro’*

Brat taming bat boys *

Lucien:

Frozen Flames (series)

Summary: After fifty years trapped Under the Mountain, you struggle to adjust to your new found freedom as Kallias’s third-in-charge to the Winter Court.

In an unlikely circumstance, you meet Lucien Vanserra.

As you and Lucien grow closer, dealing with the loss of your mother and trauma from Amarantha’s reign proves harder than you thought. How will you start to trust and love again?

Eris

One shots:

Conditions of entry*

Comment to join the tag list :)

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Sarah J Maas, not my own.

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 6 months

Text

Practice On Me — Part Eight — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Everything is starting to get on top of reader and tensions rise. Azriel takes a trip to Fenlaros and comes away with a headache. Cassian does what Cassian does best. A friendly face swoops in to save the day.

Word count: 8.3k.

Warnings: A little freaky deaky 18+, NSFW, smut, minors dni.

Azriel’s kiss is a burning brand.

It’s fire and ice and earth and rain. It tastes like freshly set snow, and it feels like the refined touch of a steeled warrior.

He kisses you like he aches for you. He pulls his hands away only to remove his gloves and chuck them aside, and then he’s clasping your face once more, skin on skin. He’s always so warm — a part of him you’ve missed.

And a part of him that drives you to kiss him back with barely any hesitation.

This — his mouth on yours — feels like the answer to a riddle you’ve been puzzling out for days, weeks, months, years. You’re gasping for air, and his tongue is sliding between your lips, and his taste overpowers you so thoroughly that you think it could break something inside of you.

There isn’t much furniture left in here. A few scattered tables, a shelf or two hanging off the wall. Not much to work with, and yet it doesn’t matter, because you and Azriel will have each other however you can. You’ve spent a lifetime making do with whatever you’ve got. This is no different.

Azriel’s hands fall down to your hips, and he’s lifting you so abruptly that a yelp leaves you and lands straight on his lips. Your arms loop around his neck, and he’s fastening your legs at his waist and stumbling with you — stumbling towards one of those old tables. A plume of dust erupts around you as he sets you down and slots himself between your legs.

“I fucking miss you.” He groans, grabbing your face. “I miss…us.”

You feel so many things. There’s no chance to sort through them, verbalise them, before his mouth slants over yours again. He’s hungry, needy. Hot and sinful. This Azriel is a far cry from the one who coyly confessed to his inexperience. This Azriel writes poetry onto your lips and paints masterpieces on your tongue. He kisses like eternal happiness depends on it. He kisses as though he’s been an artful lover for centuries.

He’s been practicing, the thought pops into your head.

Not with me, the realisation follows.

And that feels like being thrown stark-naked into the snow. It’s not a nice feeling — to realise that Azriel may be treating you to skill refined elsewhere. Not when you think about kissing him more than you’d like to admit to yourself. Does it make you a gods-damned hypocrite after what you did with Cassian? Perhaps.

But none of this — not one bit of it — is reasonable, or rational, or logical.

All you know is that your stomach lurches suddenly, violently, at the thought of where else Azriel’s lips might have been. And that’s all it takes for you to shove him away.

He stares at you, wide-eyed. Perplexed.

“I needed you.” You pant, the words tumbling from you in a flurry of charged emotion. You’re not sure you planned to say it. “On Solstice — I needed you.”

Azriel’s face changes in the blink of an eye. The hunger is gone, replaced by…something else. “Y/N—”

“I needed you, and you weren’t there. You promised me.”

“I know I did. And I’m sorry—”

“Did you even think of me?” It’s awkward, but you try to scramble back on the table. You just…need that distance right now. “Did you not wonder how I might be doing, how my day might be playing out in that hellish house, before you jumped into bed with Kaeda?”

“We didn’t—”

“Did you think of me?”

“Y/N, of course I thought of you.” He tries to clamp down on your legs, but you’re moving further away, damn near falling off the table in your efforts. “But you — you said you would come and find me. I waited for you—I—”

You’re really not sure if it’s a strangled sob or a choked laugh that fights its way up your throat. Perhaps it’s both. The sound of it is jarring, and it echoes around the armoury and reminds you of where you find yourself right now. The situation you’re in. How different things might be had Kaeda not come onto the scene.

“You waited for me?” You repeat, righting yourself. “And—what? Did you get bored? How do you think it felt, Azriel, when I came to find you — the only person I wanted to fucking be around in that moment — and you were busy with Kaeda on top of you? As if I needed my heart breaking any more that night.”

You hate it — hate it so viscerally that the words won’t stop coming. That you’re bringing your heart into this and allowing it to be stomped on again. Your eyes are watering, and you turn quickly before Az can see.

For a moment, he says and does absolutely nothing. And then he takes a step closer to you.

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t there when you needed me. Believe me, I am.” He says. There’s another step. Another. He’s hovering at your back and you know he’s wondering whether he should reach out and touch you. “But, Y/N…you encouraged me to pursue things with Kaeda. Am I to apologise for that?”

You blink at his words so abruptly that your tears spill down your cheeks.

Now you’re laughing.

It’s a humourless laugh — a hysterical one. It breaks from you in a series of fractured, incredulous noises. At least the emotion boils your blood so thoroughly that it warms you from the inside.

“Apologise?” You round on Azriel, balling your fists at your sides. “No. You don’t need to fucking apologise. But you also don’t need me to practice on anymore, do you?”

He clamps down on his jaw, a telltale muscle moving. “I didn’t kiss you for that—”

“You kissed me because you miss me. Because I am…I’m just a security blanket, aren’t I? I’m what’s familiar, and you’re used to being around me, and having distance between us has fooled you into thinking that you want to kiss me.”

“No—”

“But you’ll kiss me…and make me feel good..and then the novelty will fucking wear off, and you’ll be running straight back to Kaeda because she is who you’ve wanted all along. Not me. Never me.”

“Cauldron, Y/N, will you just let me speak?!”

No.

You will not.

You can’t.

You can’t do this. You can’t break in front of him. You refuse to.

You want to sound strong, and sure, and unbothered, but you open your mouth, and the words are watery and broken. Weak.

“No.” You swallow a lump down. “No, I won’t. Just…just go, Az. I need some time.”

“We’ve spent the last week apart. That’s plenty of fucking time—”

“Go! Go back to Kaeda. Stop…stop pretending like this could play out any other way. It can’t. It won’t.”

“I’m not leaving on an unresolved fight. You and I don’t do that.”

You are far too beaten down to discuss this any longer. You shrug, and the gesture is an effort in itself. “I’m not sure I know what either of us do or don’t do anymore. Things have changed. Go.”

“Y/N—”

“Go!”

Finally, it seems to dawn on him — the realisation that you’re serious. You won’t be discussing this tonight. You’re not strong enough for that yet.

He falters a moment longer, so clearly not wanting to walk away. The two of you have never been like this. You can fight like the best of friends do, but you’ve always made the effort to resolve things, to not part on a bad word.

But things are different, now. You know it. Az knows it.

“…Fine.” He rasps after a long stint of silence. “I’ll go.”

You nod. If he’s expecting you to suddenly change your mind, he’ll be gravely disappointed.

His eyes sweep you once more, and then he’s turning. Dragging his feet to the door like a kicked animal.

“Az?” You call quietly, and he stops.

The hope in his eyes as he looks over his shoulder almost breaks your resolve. Almost, but not quite. “Yes?”

“Send Cassian next time.”

He doesn’t deign to reply.

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Azriel is not well-versed in the world of dinner parties and propriety.

He has a few decent shirts he reserves for special occasions — like when Rhys’s mother cooks a nice meal, and he and the others dress up out of respect.

Y/N would laugh herself hoarse if she could see him right now.

A thought that stings almost as much as the intense, burning gaze of Tathaln Baralas, Lord of Fenlaros.

He’s a mammoth, domineering presence at the head of the dinner table, seeming to command every bite that each person takes of their food, every sip of their wine. It’s silent unless he speaks. It’s tense because he makes it tense.

He watches Azriel as though he’s going to finish his food and then take a bite out of the shadowsinger himself. Az’s shadows are taut around him, not wanting to make a spectacle of their brilliance. The dinner so far has felt like one big, held breath.

But finally, Tathaln clears his throat, and Kaeda and her brothers sit up straight. Az does the same.

“I trust your friends have fared well since your little adventure in my camp.” The Lord addresses Azriel. “I hope the punishment wasn’t too severe. I did many similar things in my youth — though I can’t say I was ever quite so bold as to venture into a rival territory.”

Azriel inclines his head slightly. “I wanted to apologise again — for what happened. Things got out of hand.”

“I’m partly to blame, father, as you know.” Kaeda adds. Azriel damn near jumps out of his seat as her hand lands on his thigh beneath the table. “It was my idea to invite my friends from Windhaven. An oversight, perhaps, on my part. I was eager to show Azriel what Fenlaros has to offer.”

Tathaln seems to think on that as he chews his food. He washes it down with a gulp of wine and reaches for the carafe to refill his glass. The whole thing feels like somewhat of a performance, and nobody speaks a word as it plays out.

This family dynamic is…odd. Not that Azriel has much experience where normal family dynamics are concerned. But there’s a formality with which Kaeda and her brothers — not that the two males have breathed a word this entire meal — address their flesh and blood. Like he is their Lord first, and father second.

And that isn’t unusual for Illyrians — not at all. Offspring are, more often than not, treated like a prospective trophy to be paraded in front of competing families. The fiercer, more ruthless the child is, the prouder the parent will be. It’s a brutal, ugly way of living that never changes, no matter how many generations stack up.

But perhaps Azriel is at fault for having too high an expectation. Perhaps he shouldn’t ever have been fooled by Kaeda’s wings and spirit being left intact, unlike most females around her.

Tathaln is a puppeteer, and Kaeda and her brothers are his dutiful puppets.

“There was no particular harm done.” The Lord eventually says — rather reasonable, for an Illyrian. “I imagine you received a stern talking to. Revoked privileges, perhaps?”

“Lord Devlon saw fit to lecture us, yes.” Azriel concurs with a nod. “But besides that, we weren’t really handed any punishment. It was my friend, Y/N, who bore the brunt of his wrath. She’s been forced into homelessness as a result.”

A sudden, sharp kick lands on Az’s leg from beside him. He glances at Kaeda in his periphery, eyes the fierce expression with which she looks at him. It seems to be communicating, don’t bring this up now.

But Az wants to bring it up. He’s pissed off; more so than he initially thought. At himself, mostly, and at Devlon, at Rhys’s father, maybe even a little at Kaeda — at everyone really.

Tathaln pauses, his fork mid-air. And then he sits back. “Right — the girl that was here. Why has she been made homeless?”

Girl. It’s a sneer of a word in Illyrian mouths. Azriel has to clamp down on his jaw and remind himself that confronting the sexism that runs through their veins is a fruitless task in that moment.

And Kaeda sighs at his side. As if she’d rather be talking in great detail about the roasting of a boar, than about Y/N.

But it answers a question that’s been rattling around in Azriel’s mind all evening — that no, Kaeda had clearly not mentioned Y/N to her father, as she said she would.

“Her father kicked her out on Solstice.” Az explains. “He’s not a good male, to say the least. Y/N was living with myself and my friends, but after the events that unfolded here in Fenlaros, she was sworn off having any contact with us, because Lord Devlon seems to think that she’s the driving force behind any and every bad choice we make. She has nowhere else to go. It’s…worrying.”

“Perhaps she’ll think twice before wandering into rival camps.” Finally, one of Kaeda’s brothers speaks. Arlen, Azriel thinks his name is. Clearly the idiot doesn’t see the irony of his statement.

Or perhaps Kaeda doesn’t have to adhere to the rules that every other female is strictly held under.

“Arlen.” The Lord shoots him a warning glance. He turns back to Azriel. “I would argue that Lord Devlon is full of shit.”

Azriel stops. Blinks. That…that’s not what he was expecting.

“How so, father?” Kaeda’s brow furrows.

“It’s his job to keep the soldiers under his command in line, no?” Tathaln’s dark, feline eyes are assessing Azriel as he speaks — seeming to read his response. “If he finds that a single female is the cause of such disruption, perhaps it is himself he should look at. He can’t be a great leader if he has to resort to such extremes just to keep his soldiers under control, now, can he?”

Az stares back at him. The question is meant for him, but it all seems too…too easy. Reason and logic are simply not a common thing among these people. The words sound almost…false. Forced.

“No.” Azriel agrees. “I suppose not.”

“Do you find him to be an adequate leader?”

“I’ve never known any different.”

Tathaln’s mouth tips up. “That isn’t what I asked.”

No, it isn’t. But this is a fine line Azriel is treading. He positively despises Lord Devlon — thinks him an arrogant brute who uses his title to flout camp laws and customs and turn everything in his favour. Not to mention the fact that he and his cronies are so clearly threatened by Az, Rhys and Cass — an undoubtedly formidable trio. Azriel is sure that if Devlon had his way, the three of them would be slung out by their necks. Or hung by them.

But his personal feelings towards the Lord of Windhaven doesn’t change the fact that openly disrespecting him — and to the lord of another camp — is a huge dishonour. One that could blow up in Azriel’s face if this conversation were to somehow make its way back to Devlon. He has to choose his words carefully.

“He has a method of leadership that I can’t say I’m in agreement with.” Gods, he is the epitome and personification of diplomacy, if he does say so himself. Ten points to the shadowsinger. “I’m not sure that using his power to target vulnerable females was ever part of his job description. I’m sure, as a father to a female of the same age, you can see where I’m coming from.”

Tathaln takes another pensive sip of his wine. He inclines his head. “Indeed, I do. I think it’s terrible leadership. And I think you’re wasted in Windhaven.”

“I appreciate that, my lord.”

“There is no need for modesty, Azriel, the shadowsinger.” As he speaks, the Lord’s eyes inch towards those very shadows. He studies them with a strange expression that looks almost like…hunger. “Do you know why I sent my Kaeda to your camp? I may as well admit, I have an agenda.”

Azriel glances at Kaeda. She’s staring at her plate, shoulders squared. “Oh?”

“I sent her there to scope out the quality of the units that are being trained in the Windhaven Camp. My sons were sent on similar missions to other camps — Camp Theriel, Camp Steelshore, Camp Aruin. The consensus of what was reported back to me regarding each camp was that potential is not being filled. Quite frankly, a mockery is being made of Illyrians by the poor training of these legions. If war was waged tomorrow, half of our race could be wiped out.”

Bold, bold words.

Azriel finds himself stunned silent.

“We are Illyrians, no?” A thick, callused finger traces the rim of Tathaln’s chalice. “We are a warrior race. We have birthed some of the fiercest warriors in Prythian’s history and decimated tens of thousands across battlefields. And yet, it would seem, these days, that our camps are producing fewer warriors, and far more lazy, unambitious brutes who care only about drinking and fighting and fucking. Our reputation could be destroyed yet.”

This is…bizarre, Az thinks.

He also thinks that it’s a little unfair. He’s the last person to ever defend the creatures around him that are supposedly his brethren, but he also thinks that Tathaln’s assessment is wildly exaggerated.

Illyrians drink, yes, and fight, yes, and fuck, yes. But they do so in between harsh, gruelling training. They drink to forget the brutal nature of their life’s work. They fight each other because they’re just as angry as one another, and that needs an outlet. They seek pleasure, because it’s one of the few good things to be found in these parts.

Their training is not for the faint of heart. You train well, or you die. It’s that simple.

And if Tathaln, Lord of Fenlaros, truly has such concerns, Azriel doesn’t understand why the fuck they’re being presented to him, of all people.

“Is this something you’ve raised with the High Lord?” He asks — he isn’t sure he even means to say it.

Kaeda tenses beside him, and Az wonders if, perhaps, he’s overstepped the mark. But Tathaln seems somewhat pleased by the question — seems pleased that Azriel is engaged in the discussion.

“It is.” The male answers. “And I think he finds himself agreeable to what I’ve had to say. However, I haven’t yet presented my solution — what I believe to be the right course of action.”

Az takes the bait. “Which is what?”

“Eventually,” Tathaln says, “I would do away with the individual camps entirely. I would have one, sole camp to train Illyrian warriors, overseen by the most powerful members of our race. Members with rare, unique powers who can draw on the Illyrian potential and make our people what we were always supposed to be. What we once were, before we became too complacent. Better, even.”

And just like that, it makes sense that Tathaln is sharing such things with Az.

Rare, unique powers. Powers like that of a shadowsinger. So incredibly unique that Azriel has never met another of his kind.

Tathaln has ambition — he covets power. He has a vision that needs backing.

It’s like everything suddenly clicks into place in Azriel’s mind.

He finds himself looking at Kaeda, not her father. Finds himself wondering if she ever had genuine interest in him, or if that interest came entirely from Tathaln. Finally, she lifts her gaze to his, and she wears a strange, pleading look.

“Don’t get me wrong, shadowsinger.” Tathaln says. “This is not a goal that could be achieved overnight. Power takes time to build. I couldn’t take this idea to the High Lord without something to back it up — something to get him on side.”

Azriel shrugs. “But what would you have me do? I’m just a soldier in training—”

“You are a shadowsinger. Do you even realise what an asset that makes you? Perhaps your poor start in life, your mistreatment, has caused you to downplay your potential. But I see it. Your power could be a lethal weapon on a battlefield. And off a battlefield. There is so much you could be doing, and yet Lord Devlon has you landing punches on a sparring dummy and calls it training? You are made for better things than that.”

Praise is…it’s a rare thing, in Azriel’s world. And he doesn’t care about that, because the little praise he does get comes from the people who matter, and that’s all he needs.

But hearing somebody other than his close friends — his family — speak so highly of him, is…new. And he’d be lying if he claimed not to like it.

Still, Tathaln is clearly beating around the proverbial. Azriel almost doesn’t want the discussion to go any further, because his head is already full to the brim with swimming thoughts and close to exploding. But they’ve come this far already; he may as well learn what his role in this bigger agenda would be.

“What is it you want from me, my Lord?” He asks.

A small smile plays on Tathaln’s mouth. His eyes, yet again, are on Azriel’s shadows, rather than Az himself. “As I said, change cannot be made overnight. It would take years — generations, perhaps. I would need enough males — strong males — backing my cause, before the High Lord would even hear of it. But I am a patient male. I know what I want, what is right for Illyria, and I will do everything in my power to make it happen. Starting with strengthening my camp. Being known as the strongest of all camps. And strengthening my influence, too.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

“Having your power on my side could be a good thing for me. And I could hone you. I believe this mission starts with you. Abandon Windhaven and take up residence in Fenlaros. Train under my command. Come and see exactly how wasted you are in that place. Come and see what we could build together.”

“You want me to be your pet?” Azriel raises an eyebrow. “Your project?”

“I want to hone your potential and show you what an asset you are. I want Illyrians to be a feared people once more. I want to build the strongest, most powerful army in all of Prythian and make Illyria what it was always supposed to be.”

In the wake of the impassioned speech, silence sweeps in. Azriel is staring at his plate, and he thinks he might be feeling cold all over. There’s a strange tingling at the back of his neck — like a warning sign.

He still doesn’t understand why he’d be integral to such an agenda. He’s a shadowsinger, yes, and that is not to be downplayed, but he’s just Azriel. He’s just an Illyrian who trains to fight, and fights to kill, and to one day be killed. That is simply how it is.

And Windhaven — ugly and cold and harrowing as it is — is his home. His family is there. A cottage that is far too small and cramped to house a group of adults but is always a beacon of light and hope and warmth. A place in which he’s made wonderful memories and felt genuine happiness. He’s happy to tolerate the hellish ways of life around him, because he has beautiful things in front of him.

Beautiful things that wouldn’t follow him to Fenlaros. Yes, he may have broken a rule and breached a camp to attend a party — but doing so under casual circumstances is wildly different to doing so under official ones. As a soldier of Fenlaros — as one of Tathaln’s puppets — he would be expected to adhere to the strict rules and standards that he metes out. Fenlaros would be his territory, and there would be no blurring of those lines.

But could Tathaln really be seeing more potential in Azriel than had ever been noticed before? Could it truly be that Fenlaros has more to offer him? More to be done for him?

“I would be turning my back on everything I know.” Az says, the mere words tasting sour in his mouth. “My loved ones. The family I’ve built. They would be left behind. I’m not under any illusion that you’d allow our two camps to interact if I came here.”

Tathaln dips his chin. “I am not going to sugarcoat that. It would be an adjustment, and a painful one at first. But there is far more for you here, shadowsinger. I simply ask that you consider it. Just as I believe your two brothers would consider it, if I were to present the offer to them.”

“And why haven’t you? Presented it to them? Why me?”

Those dark, calculating eyes swallow him up. “I need a shadowsinger. It starts with you.”

Azriel isn’t even sure what that means, and he doesn’t want to think about it any longer. There’s a lump in his throat. His appetite is well and truly gone. He might even be sick.

He couldn’t possibly leave his family. The thought makes him violently ill.

“As I said, all I ask is for your consideration.” Tathaln watches him. And then his eyes slide to his daughter. “As this meal is clearly over, perhaps Kaeda should show you around Fenlaros. Show you what this place might have to offer. Give the shadowsinger a tour, my sweet.”

Kaeda smiles broadly. “Yes, father.”

Az wants to refuse, but he can’t find the words. Too much is going on in his head. He wants to get out of there and go straight back to Windhaven, where it’s familiar and where love waits for him. He doesn’t want to be a component in a greater agenda.

When he met Kaeda, it was simply about…exploring attraction. About experiencing. Not about this.

But he can’t fucking speak. He stands without telling his body to stand.

And for some reason, when Kaeda slides her hand into his, murmurs a soft “come, Azriel”, he doesn’t protest.

Numb and stunned and sick to his stomach he may be. But he follows.

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Azriel isn’t sure if he’s heard a single word that has left Kaeda’s mouth.

She speaks, and yet it’s simply background noise. He can’t hear around the screeching in his head.

He should really just take to the skies and fly home, but perhaps he’s already a puppet — his feet stay on Fenlaros turf. Kaeda guides him around the camp as though the conversation at dinner never happened. She shows him her favourite haunts and introduces him to people whose names he forgets instantly.

It's up on a viewpoint overlooking the camp, just he and Kaeda alone, that he finally releases a slow, weary breath. He folds his arms against the railing and welcomes the cold air biting into his skin. Kaeda stands just a short distance away.

“We call this area the Widow’s Watch.” She says, daring a step closer. “It’s said that centuries ago, at the end of battle, the camp wives would gather up here with firelit torches and await their husbands’ return. If their husband returned, they’d extinguish the torch. Those that were left burning signified who did not return from war.”

Azriel says nothing; isn’t sure he’s capable. He digs his fingers into his arm.

Eventually, Kaeda stops at his side, also bracing her arms on the railing. She looks out over the camp wistfully, as though she can see hordes of wounded soldiers returning home. “I can’t imagine how eerie that sight must have been — the beacons of the dead painting the sky with fire.”

“No,” the agreement leaves the shadowsinger unexpectedly — surprises even him. “Neither can I.”

It’s then that Kaeda angles herself towards him just slightly. He meets her gaze. She’s so very beautiful — the kind of female that artists beg to paint. Her cheekbones are high and defined, her lips full. Her eyes look like shards of glimmering green rock. Never is there a hair out of place. Never a stray lash or smudged rouge. She is, quite simply, a vision.

But Az finds himself wondering if he’s ever known any part of her, or if she’s just following orders.

“I know you must have questions.” She eyes him cautiously.

“So many that my brain can’t keep up.” He takes a small step away. “Have you ever been genuinely interested in me?”

“I have.”

“Your father literally sent you to cozy up to me.”

Her eyes shutter, thick lashes fanning against her skin. “It wasn’t like that, Azriel. I mean — it was, to some degree. You’re right that my father sent me, and that he already had his sights set on you. I work for him. I’m training as his spymaster.” She opens those eyes again — wide. “Yes, he told me to get to know you. But he didn’t say romantically. That was all me. I just…like you.”

Gods, it should feel good, feel like a positive thing, to hear that. To know that the beautiful female he’s been getting to know these past months has genuine interest in him.

But he feels…nothing. No sense of relief. Only the anger that’s still simmering at this entire thing being orchestrated by her father.

“Does it not bother you?” His tone is brusque, sharp, as he stares Kaeda down. “That your father has you do his bidding? You’re a pawn in a game.”

“My father has a vision. It is an honour to serve him, and to be a contributor to that vision eventually coming to fruition. I will not apologise for that.”

“A vision. To create…to create one fucking super camp that he is to oversee? It sounds to me like your father has a hunger for power. Things have worked this way in Illyria for millennia. Why should they be changed now?”

Kaeda shakes her head. “You’re wrong. Things aren’t working. That’s just the problem.”

“You—”

“Are you proud to be an Illyrian, Azriel?” She steps closer to him; perhaps too close. “I’m not. Not with how things are right now. But I want to be. We are a warrior race. We are supposed to train, and fight, and protect. We’re supposed to be formidable. We’re supposed to be feared. But with the way things are going, fewer and fewer of those things are remaining true. If we don’t change how things are run across these camps and light a fire under our soldiers’ asses, half of our people could be wiped out when the next war comes. The Illyrian race could cease to exist entirely, and our legacy will be left at the mercy of rhyme and tale. We can’t allow that to be the case.”

Azriel studies her.

Her passion is…intense, yes, but also strangely beautiful. There’s a ferocity in her eyes that is so rare among a people who live and breathe misery; whose lot in life is to die.

That doesn’t mean, of course, that he appreciates Tathaln’s scheming, nor Kaeda’s. But they’re not exactly wrong in that ambition is a rare commodity these days. Those who can train for the Illyrian army do so because it’s what is expected of them. Those who aren’t cut out for it make do with everyday jobs around camp. Nobody has pride or passion. Nobody is prepared for war.

So Azriel’s shoulders relax just a little, even though his scepticism remains very much present. “I still don’t understand why I am being scouted for this cause, though. Why not take it to the High Lord? Or why not get Rhysand on side?”

Kaeda shakes her head. “As my father explained, we simply don’t have enough backing to go to the High Lord about this idea — not yet. He knows of my father’s opinion and even agrees that things need to change, but such a complex idea requires careful handling. And conspiring with his son about it would surely not put us in his favour.”

“So…what? I’m the next best thing?”

“After Rhysand, you’re the most powerful, yes. Your influence could aid us greatly. I don’t think you realise how highly coveted you are. Every other camp is aware of the fact that Windhaven has a shadowsinger. And they’re equally aware that your abilities aren’t being put to their full potential under Lord Devlon’s command. Changes will be made whether you accept my father’s offer or not, Azriel. But the changes we’re proposing are the best ones. The right ones.”

“I don’t see what’s right about having to leave my friends — my brothers—”

“Gods, Azriel, just…just take the emotion out of this for five seconds and listen to me.”

Az’s jaw clenches. “I am listening.”

“Then hear me clearly. Change is coming. It’s inevitable. And one thing I can tell you with absolute certainty is that even if you weren’t to come to Fenlaros, you would still be separated from your friends, or your brothers, or whatever you call them.” She hovers close enough to touch, now, mere inches from him. “One thing I’ve picked up on in Windhaven is that Lord Devlon is very intimidated by the strength of you, Cassian and Rhysand being together. The older you get, the more powerful you’re becoming, and people are growing aware of that. Devlon intends to separate the three of you, and by any means necessary. He can’t risk the threat you pose to him. He’ll tear you apart.”

The information doesn’t surprise Az one bit. He’s sensed a growing panic amongst Devlon and his cronies. They don’t stand a chance against the future High Lord and his two closest friends. And Azriel doesn’t doubt that if physical separation didn’t work, the callous bastards would resort to something far, far worse. Or try, at least.

But still, none of this is making any fucking sense to him. He needs a stiff drink. Or twenty. “How would coming to Fenlaros solve that in any way?”

“Beating Devlon at his own game — separating yourself from your brothers — will lure him into a false sense of security. With you gone, it’ll be one less problem to worry about. He’ll let his guard down. Meanwhile, we’ll be building our influence here and forming a case that can be taken to the High Lord. With his support of our changes, we’ll have the power to do more. And then eventually…eventually, your brothers can join you here. When we have more ground to work on. My father would never begrudge the bond the three of you have. He’d see it as a positive…having three such powerful Illyrians under his command.”

Too much to think about. Way, way too much. Azriel just wants to get out of there. He wants to lie down in a dark room and pretend nothing and no one exists.

But he stares at Kaeda. And he asks, “And what of Y/N? Could she come here, too?”

There’s a very slight hesitance — small, but certainly there. But then she purses her lips, and she shrugs. “Whatever you want.”

He’s not sure she means it. And that…that’s a whole other rabbit hole he’s not sure he can face going down right now. Another situation entirely.

Before he can say anything else, Kaeda closes the gap between them. She cups his face and leans up, close enough that their mouths are almost touching.

“Just think about it. That’s all I ask.” She says. “I really do like you, Azriel. And I really do think we could have something. Think of what we could do here, together. Of what we could be. We could make history. Just…promise me you’ll think about it.”

His lips part with a response he hasn’t even thought of. But there’s no chance to speak it as Kaeda slants her mouth over his and kisses him slowly, softly. Deeply.

Her fingers sink into the strands of his hair, and she breathes a muted hum into his mouth. She tastes like peppermint and sugar, and she kisses as though she hasn’t just laid the weight of the world on Azriel’s shoulders.

And that weight might be why he’s stiff as a board, barely reacting. Or it might be the horrible feeling of dread that this is all wrong. He kissed another female, earlier today — and that kiss had felt like burning, eternal sunshine.

This one feels like…like a ploy.

“Just promise me.” She pulls away just enough to whisper. “Promise me you’ll think about it.”

There’s no way he can’t think about it. The seeds have been sown. And perhaps he feels a little slither of guilt for how rigid and cold he currently is, because he doesn’t shoot her plea down like he should.

He sucks in a slow breath and inclines his head.

“Okay.” He says. “I’ll think about it.”

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

The fucking wall is Azriel’s fucking face.

At least, that’s what the fuck you tell yourself as you send a dagger hurtling at it and watch it bury its point into the surface. Another scuff mark to add to the growing smattering, all courtesy of you.

Fuck. Him.

You’re not sure you’ve ever felt so angry in your life, and Cauldron knows, you’ve had ample reason to. But this anger is…it’s consuming. It’s violent and jagged and nauseating. It’s claws sinking into your heart and your brain and dissecting everything that plagues you in both sleep and consciousness.

And it’s this severe because you care. You care so very much.

You’re sick of caring.

Why would he kiss you, after all that has happened since the last time? To taunt you? To grab your feelings in his fist and twist them? To practice on you?

And to think you almost gave in to that strange, carnal need to have his hands on you again. You cannot — will not — allow yourself to think about which deeper emotion or desire that need is rooted in. Thinking will lead only to realisations that may destroy you yet.

And he’s probably with Kaeda right now, too. Perhaps losing himself in her, forgetting all about you with the aid of her touch—

You scowl and march to the wall, yanking your dagger out. Your anger and your need to just…move, is keeping you warm, at least. Nighttime in the old armoury is about as pitiful as can be imagined, but the relentless cold is actually a strange…relief. It hurts in a satisfying way.

How fucking dare he, your mind chants, not for the first time, as you stalk back to your spot. How dare he treat you as though you’re nothing? You brace yourself and send the dagger hurtling towards the wall once again—

The door is suddenly bursting open, and the weapon only just misses Cassian’s face on its journey as he strides in, arms full of items you don’t care to look at.

He stops abruptly. Blinks. “Did you just throw a dagger at me?”

“No.” You immediately scowl, stalking over to retrieve it yet again. “Fuck you.”

“Ouch. Fuck you right back. I brought blankets and food.”

“Shove them up your ass.”

“I’d really rather not.” He kicks the door shut behind him and strides over to the pile of your scant belongings, dropping his items and freeing his arms. He turns back to you with raised eyebrows. “Is there a particular reason you’re acting like a little storm cloud, or is it just a way to pass the time?”

Finally, you sheath your blade — partly because you’re not sure you trust yourself with it right now. You face your friend, fully aware that you’re out of line and fully resentful of the fact.

“I had an argument with Az.” You admit, not even certain you mean to.

Cassian’s eyebrows raise. “Well, that explains why he nearly bit my head off earlier, too. What did you fight about?”

Do you tell him? Do you confess all your complicated, messed up feelings — the bizarre circumstances that brought them about — when you haven’t even sorted through them yourself? No. You can’t. It’s a bit too soon for that.

“It was…nothing.” You stalk over to your things. “Just nothing.”

“Doesn’t seem like nothing—”

“Thank you for bringing me these.” You toe a thick blanket with your boot.

Yet again, Cassian’s eyebrows go up. “Are you hinting at me to leave?”

“Just because I have to face the night in this hovel, doesn’t mean you should be subjected to the same fate. I wouldn’t expect that of you.”

“Well, fucking expect it, because I’m staying—”

“Cass—”

“Come here.” He opens his arms. “Right now.”

You stare at him. And in that instant, with him seeing you — seeing everything you are, everything you’re feeling, what you need — your anger simmers, and it threatens to turn into tears.

“You clearly need a hug.” He points out softly. “And I’ve missed you this past week. So come here.”

In an instant, you crumble. You’re stepping forward and damn near falling into Cassian’s arms. He catches you, just like he always catches you.

His arms band around you, warmer and more secure than any blanket. He pulls you tightly against him, and you allow your arms to snake around his waist. It’s only then that you realise how much you need the firmness of his body to hold you up. He’s like a huge, supporting wall that stops you sinking to your knees.

“I’m so sad.” You whisper, nestling your face into his chest. His scent and his warmth permeate his clothes, and they combine and wash over you in a soothing combination.

“I know.” His broad hand cups the back of your head. “Everything is a huge mess right now. But we’re going to get through it — together.”

You hate that you can’t believe him; not right now. Everything is too up in the air, too uncertain. A dark mass has followed you around this camp for the entirety of your life, and it’s closer than ever to closing in and snuffing out who you are.

“How can you be so sure?” You ask. “I don’t think I have the strength to fight anymore, Cass.”

He pulls back to study you. To cup your face and look into your eyes. “Yes.” He says firmly. “You do. You always have and you always will. There is nothing — nothing — you can’t face. I truly believe that, Y/N.”

Staring back at him feels just like…like the night in the cottage, when you lost yourself in him. Him being there for you, speaking the words that are so hard to believe and yet so what you need to hear. The same urge arises in you to give over to those feelings. Do something for yourself for once.

You think Cassian might read that thought on your face. Perhaps you wear it shamelessly.

He studies you closely — studies you hard. And his throat bobs as his eyes flit down to your lips.

“Y/N.” He says. “Let me make you feel good.”

You swallow, also. And you don’t need to think about it. “Yes.” You nod. “Yes.”

In a flash, he’s closing the gap between you, his mouth finding yours. The hot and heavy weight of his lips is a relief. One that makes you release a soft sigh.

You don’t let yourself think about the fact that you were kissing Azriel in this very building only earlier. Nor about the fact that it could have gone much further than that. Cassian gives you himself, and you take, your hands bunching in his jacket as you haul him against you.

His hand fists in your hair, tilting your face up to him. And as his mouth stains yours with his urgent need, he’s backing you up, walking you back and back until you collide with that very table that Az kissed you on earlier. Cassian picks you up in an easy sweep and places you on the tabletop. He parts your legs and slots himself in between, his mouth never once leaving yours, never once faltering.

Until he parts from you and says, “Lie back.”

With his hand guiding you down, you do just that. You sprawl out on that table, anticipation coiling in your stomach. It warms you from the inside, makes your skin too hot and your clothes too heavy.

Cassian doesn’t mess around with teasing or taunting. He drags his hands over your breasts, your stomach, and down to the laces at your breeches. You don’t care about the cold air. You lift your hips and wish only for him to undo those laces faster. You want your skin bare, and his touch marking it.

“I didn’t get to taste you last time.” Your friend pants, pressing a kiss to your abdomen. “Will you let me now?”

Goosebumps erupt over you skin. You grip onto the edges of the table and breathe, desperately. “Yes. Please.”

So boldly, he yanks your breeches and undergarments down in one go. His fingers find the very centre of you, already soaked, already ready for him. What he finds there makes him groan.

“Here? You’ll let me taste you here?”

“Please.” You pant again. “Just…please, Cass. I need this.”

“I know.” A kiss lands on your skin. “I know.”

His hands drag down your legs at the same time he sinks to his knees. You bow your head forward — just to watch the predatory grace with which he aligns his face with your sex. He licks his lips like you’ve presented him with his most carnal desire.

He inhales slowly — breathes in your scent. A growl rips from his throat.

And then he dives right in.

His tongue licks a stripe up your centre, from your entrance, up to your clit. Your hips buck at the contact, one hand moving to bunch within his hair. As his tongue swirls over your clit, pleasure barrels through you that ends in a cry.

“Your taste is fucking divine.” Cass groans, and his hands pry your legs further apart. He wastes no time in lapping at your juices, damn near fucking drinking you down. He drinks and drinks like a male parched. “Gods, Y/N.”

“More.” You gasp, thrusting your hips towards him. You grind your cunt against his face, and you can’t stop your body jerking, your head lolling back. “Gods, Cass, more.”

“More?” His teeth graze against the sensitive nub. “Tell me what you need.”

“Your mouth. Fingers. You.”

A delicious, sinful chuckle, so incredibly deep and lilting, breaks from Cass and vibrates against you. He lands a harsh suck on your clit. “I love how filthy you are.”

And he shows you how much he loves it, as one finger suddenly gathers up your wetness and teases your entrance. You moan, plead, beg him to slip it into you. He does so at the same time that he fastens his lips to your clit and strokes at it with his tongue.

You feel him smile against you. Your responses seem to provide him with almost as much pleasure as your touch would.

“Just like that.” He growls the words onto you, sliding his finger out and back in — adds a second one. “Take what you need. Fuck my fingers.”

You need this pleasure. This release. He has no idea how much you need it. Nobody does. You need to feel like somebody else, feel like you’re somewhere else. You need to feel something other than…blinding pain.

And so you take what you fucking need, undulating your hips and moving yourself on his fingers, against his tongue. Cassian follows your lead, keeps up with your pace. As your moans pick up, so do the thrusts of his hand.

“Going to come for me?” His hand moves faster. “Come around my fingers?”

“Yes.” You throw your head back. “Fuck—Cass.”

“Come.” He growls. “Want to feel you.”

It’s as if your body is fully under his command, because the words have your climax bursting through your body and chasing you from every negative feeling that’s been plaguing you. It feels beautifully catastrophic, fucking mind-altering. It feels like an out of body experience.

You know, somewhere in your mind, that you’re being loud, but you don’t give a single damn. You welcome your orgasm and allow it to consume you. You allow your loud, gasping noises to echo around the building.

But perhaps it’s the loud volume of those noises that prevents both you and Cass from hearing the door open behind you. Perhaps it’s the heat of your passion that makes you immune to the sudden gust of cold air.

Whatever it is, neither of you notice a third presence until a voice bellows behind you.

“Cauldron fucking boil me, my eyes!”

Both you and Cass rise with a start, you scrambling to cover yourself. A horrified expression stares back at you both.

“Roza.” You both say at the same time. Both blink in shock, too.

Rhysand’s mother covers her eyes with her hand and turns her back to you.

“Please correct yourselves before you traumatise me any more.” She says. “Can’t turn my back on you idiots for five gods-damn minutes.”

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