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ecileh · 2 years

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Nesta and the Mercenary

Pairing: Nesta / the mercenary Rating: explicit Length: 9k Tags: F/F, SAPPHIC SMUT, canon-compliant, non-graphic past mention of the canon SA AO3 link

But Nesta had gone with that mercenary. My hateful, cold sister had been willing to brave Prythian to rescue me. “What happened to Tomas Mandray?” I asked, the words strangled. “I realized he wouldn’t have gone with me to save you from Prythian.” —A Court of Thorns and Roses, Chapter 30

BUT WHO DID GO WITH NESTA TO SAVE FEYRE?? THE MERCENARY.

This is their story. It’s very gay.

As they sat around the fire for the quiet hour before bed, the faerie came.

Later, Nesta’s memories of the encounter were crystal-clear, but frantic and scattered with her terror. She remembered the faerie’s golden fur and elk-like horns and snarling voice. She remembered how Feyre tried to stave him off with a hunting knife. She remembered protecting Elain with her own body like a shield of skin and bone, despite her own fear, always putting Elain’s safety above all else.

Most of all, she remembered her father telling Feyre to go, and live well, and never come back, because she was better than all of them.

She remembered how deep down, she agreed.

Then Feyre’s eyes were on Nesta and she was saying, “Whatever you do, don’t see Tomas Mandray again. His father beats his wife, and he’s never done anything to stop it.” Nesta set her jaw so her lips wouldn’t quiver. “Bruises are harder to conceal than poverty.”

Those were Feyre’s last words to any of them as she left with the beast.

As much as the encounter had made her fear for her life, nothing could have prepared her for the growing horror she felt as she watched Elain and her father dry their tears and go from cowering in terror and sobbing with grief, to bland smiles and mindless conversation in mere minutes.

“To think we had an aunt on the island, all along. I do wish we could have met Aunt Ripleigh before she grew too ill,” their father said, idly picking up his wood carving supplies.

Elain smiled dreamily. “I wonder what her mansion is like, or if she has any handsome bachelors for neighbors. Feyre is so lucky to get to travel, even if it’s for such a sad reason.”

Nesta looked from her sister to her father in disbelief as they chattered away about Aunt Ripleigh, who, as far as Nesta could tell, was a figment of their imaginations.

Elain continued, “Isn’t it funny, how you wrote to our other relatives on the Continent so often for help, when we had one just a few days’ ride away?”

“Feyre left with a beast, Elain. What the fuck are you two talking about?” she hissed.

“I’m sorry, Nesta, that you did not get to go,” Elain said mildly. “But that’s no reason to curse at me or call Aunt Ripleigh’s coachman a beast. He seemed perfectly well-mannered to me. Are you on your cycle? We should have picked up some willow bark tea from the hedge-woman at the market.”

Nesta sputtered, unable to form a response. She looked toward the door, which had been shattered by the faerie mere minutes before. The door was now whole, but it had a little round window that had not been there before. And all of Feyre’s paintings were now missing from the wood.

“When did we get a window in the front door?”

“Hm?” her father said. “Oh, I suppose Feyre must have done that before she left, after the wind damaged it.”

Her eyes fell upon Feyre’s hunting knife, lodged in the cabinet that Feyre had painted with little blue flowers. She pulled the knife from the wood, then looked outside the bare front door’s new window. It hadn’t snowed since that morning, and there was not a footstep in the snow, not even from when Nesta had returned home an hour before.

And Nesta Archeron knew, with absolute certainty, that she was the only one left who knew the truth.

✦✦✦

Nesta rose early the next Sunday and marched into town alone, before Elain could wake and tag along. The market was sleepy and most vendors were still arranging their wares in their stalls and wagons when Nesta arrived. But the person she was looking for was already there, leaning against the broken fountain.

“What will it cost for you to accompany me to the wall? No more, no less,” Nesta asked the only woman of the handful of mercenaries who awaited work in the town square.

She was a mountain of a woman, perhaps in her late twenties, with scars through her eyebrow and along her forearm, chin-length dark hair, and thick muscles draped in silver fur—the very wolf that had earned Feyre her life sentence in Prythian. She narrowed her obsidian-dark eyes as she spoke in a voice that was at once husky and girlish, “Have the Children of the Blessed brainwashed you into thinking you’ll find a faerie husband in Prythian?”

“The Children are simpering fools,” Nesta scoffed. “I’m looking for a human, and I won’t expect you to go over the wall with me. Just get me through the woods.”

The mercenary appraised Nesta from toe to head, her gaze lingering on Nesta’s curves and fine wool dress. “It won’t be cheap, what with rumors of faeries getting over the wall. For what exactly does a fine lady want to spend two days hiking through snow and wolf territory?”

“I am no lady,” Nesta said, steeling her spine to her full height, which was still several inches shorter than the mercenary. “Just tell me your price and I will pay it.”

“You're the brassy-haired huntress's sister,” the mercenary said, fingering the silver fur on her shoulders.

“They took her last week because of the very pelt you wear.”

The mercenary looked at Nesta for a long moment, then clicked her tongue. “Forty silver. Double if you don’t get through the wall and I have to bring you back. And you’ll want more practical clothes, princess. Your boots are fine, but you need pants and warm layers.”

Nesta counted out twenty silver. “Don’t call me that. You get the rest when I see the wall. We leave tomorrow at dawn.” It was more than she had expected, though she had not actually known what to expect. The silver, plus the cost of any clothes she couldn’t salvage from Feyre’s old hunting garb, would eat up a good chunk of the little fund that she had set aside for herself. But if there was even half a chance of rescuing Feyre from the faerie beast who had stolen her and bewitched their family, it would be more than worth it.

“Whatever you say, princess.”

“My name is Nesta,” she said, frowning up at the other woman.

“The princess has manners! I'm Rab.” The mercenary grinned, extending her hand. “It will be my pleasure to do business with you.”

Nesta glared at Rab, but shook on their deal anyway.

✦✦✦

Telling her family that she was going to “check on Feyre and Aunt Ripleigh” had been a vexing affair. Nesta was still in a pissy mood from it when she met Rab in the town square the next morning at dawn, in the same exact spot she had left the scar-faced woman. Blessedly, Rab had stayed true to her word rather than having made off with Nesta's silver, as many other mercenaries might have done.

“What's got your bloomers in a twist, princess?” the mercenary asked with a smirk, noting Nesta's stormy expression.

“You ask as if I'm wearing any,” Nesta said flatly. “Let's go.”

Rab raised her eyebrows suggestively, but stayed silent, having apparently decided not to tangle further with Nesta's attitude.

They walked in silence for the first few hours. Nesta felt awkward and exposed in Feyre’s pants, which hugged her larger backside obscenely, and she was soon gasping for breath. She may have had a full week of square meals for the first time in months, but her body was still not strong enough to overcome the lingering weakness of near-starvation.

Nesta did not complain or let herself fall behind, however, and Rab did not slow her pace, though she did loudly announce, "I could use a bite," before sitting down on a log and handing Nesta a few pieces of hard bread and venison jerky.

Nesta ate quickly, though she appreciated the chance to catch her breath. Rab chewed slowly while Nesta took long sips of water from a canteen and shrugged off her outermost layer now that she was warm from walking.

They continued like this for the rest of the first day: Nesta quietly pushing herself to keep up, Rab maintaining a hard, steady pace but also enforcing regular breaks. She would never admit it, but Nesta was grateful that her pride was saved from having to request time to sit down and catch her breath.

“Didn't your family care to help search for your lost sister?” Rab asked as they bedded down for the night. “I saw you with a third girl. No parents, other relatives to help you or go in your stead?”

Nesta frowned. “I'm keeping up, aren't I?”

“I didn't mean to offend,” Rab said with mock solemnity, piling wood onto the fire. “You're doing fine. I'd just be surprised if coming yourself was your first choice.”

“Even if my father or my sister could make this trip, which they couldn't, they're so magic-addled they wouldn't understand where they were going.” Nesta sighed as she inched closer to the fire, savoring its warmth. “They think Feyre is at some imaginary relative's house and that I've gone to check on her.”

Rab froze in the middle of adding a log to the fire and raised an eyebrow. “They've been glamoured?”

“It's utterly infuriating. I forged a letter and everything to ensure that they thought this nonexistent aunt desperately needed me, and not Elain or my father, to come visit. But they're so bewitched that all I had to say was 'Aunt Ripleigh', and they were glassy-eyed and dreamy-voiced, telling me to have such a lovely trip.”

“But you are not glamoured.”

“Clearly not,” Nesta snapped. Sparks flew as she took the log from Rab's unmoving hand and tossed it roughly into the fire.

“There's a science to a good campfire, and you're fucking it all up, princess.” Rab grabbed another log and used the end of it to rearrange the fire. “Why wouldn't the faerie glamour you? Have you had past dealings with them? Or a charm that protected you?”

Nesta shook her head, then pulled up her sleeve to show the mercenary her iron bracelet. “This is useless. Elain had one, too, and was enchanted anyway. Don't know why I still wear it.”

“The only metal that will stop a faerie from hurting you is a wit of steel, or a sharp blade to the heart or the neck, and the latter is only after sticking them with an ash arrow first,” Rab said, fingering the sword at her side. “You’ll have to rely on the former, as it doesn’t seem like you’re wanting for mental steel. That’s a good thing.”

Nesta stiffened and said bitterly, “Try telling my family that.”

“Do you think my mother was proud to raise a child more beast than girl until I started bringing her money every season until she died? Or that any mercenary bands respected me as an equal until I proved myself their better? You might as well have pride in whatever it is that you’re good at.”

Nesta heard the truth in Rab’s words. She knew her own stubborn pride was all that had kept her going these years. Even if her father never looked at her the way he looked at Elain every day or at Feyre as the faerie led her away. Like he was proud of the people they were. But Nesta didn’t need his approval—or anyone’s. Right now, she just needed to bring Feyre back, because it wasn’t right that she was gone.

It wasn’t right that nobody but Nesta even knew enough to miss her.

That didn’t mean she wanted to face any of that pain right now. Not with the mercenary always observing her so intently.

So Nesta was silent as Rab directed her to boil beans for dinner. She tried to ignore the thickness in her throat and the feeling that Rab could see right through her. If anything, the sensations only ached more keenly the more she tried to shove them away.

Meanwhile, the mercenary stomped through the trees around camp and scattered salt or whatever charm she had to deter any passing faeries who might scent two humans so close to the wall. Even though they both knew it would do nothing to stop a faerie who truly intended to steal, torture, or devour them. Even though Rab herself had said only an ash arrow and sharp blades and wits would stop a faerie. But this close to the wall, humanity felt too fragile to dismiss anything that could turn a faerie away.

“Say one word about the overcooked beans and you’ll be eating snow for dinner,” Nesta said as she handed the returning mercenary a bowl.

“I’ve seen worse,” Rab said before tasting the meal. If one could even call it a meal. “Actually, you know what? I think I like it better this way. It’s inspired. Maybe when you find your sister, her faerie husband will spare your life to keep you as his cook.”

“Shut up.” Nesta closed her eyes and struggled to swallow a mouthful of dry, flavorless mush.

Rab snickered and set to spreading the mush on a piece of hard bread. “Can you at least defend yourself better than you can cook?”

“I'm sure you'll disagree, but not every problem needs to be solved with fists and steel,” Nesta said. Reaching into her pack, she found Feyre's knife. “Though, I do have this.”

The mercenary arched one dark eyebrow. “And can you wield it?”

“Sharp end to the gut,” she said as she stabbed the knife into the cold ground next to her. “Just like that.”

“That's a hunting knife, princess. It's for skinning and filleting, not stabbing.”

Nesta glared at the mercenary, who looked like she was trying not to laugh in Nesta's face. “It wouldn't feel good if I stabbed you with it, would it?”

“Fair enough,” Rab said, setting her bowl aside. “Eat fast, if you can stomach it. I'll give you my time until the moon rises, but then it's bedtime.”

“Your time for what?” Nesta asked.

“To show you how to survive an attack long enough to run away if your wits—or your tits—aren't enough. Works for faeries and men alike.”

For the next hour, Rab showed Nesta the fundamentals of self defense: how to escape a bind, to stun an attacker by gouging their eyes or hitting them in a soft spot (if they even had any), and to wear a knife properly, though Rab impressed that Nesta should only draw it as a last resort, since wielding it would take weeks to learn, and it could easily be taken and used against her.

The quick training was a blessed distraction from her brooding, but Nesta was still relieved when she could curl up in the bedding that Rab had laid out, so that she could hide her face in the shadows of the forest, but the mercenary stopped her.

“You a heavy sleeper?”

Nesta shook her head.

“Good. Then I won't have to worry about not being able to rouse you for your watch.”

“Do I get a discount for doing your job for you?” Nesta asked.

Rab smirked. “Absolutely not, princess.”

The night was cold and long, but the mercenary sat close to Nesta through her watch, her warmth welcome at Nesta’s back. Sleep came even more scantly for her than usual, as it had been years since she had slept anywhere besides the huge iron bed, and its mattress, as lumpy and old as it was, was still a far cry from the cold, hard ground. So she did not care much when her watch came—or at least she wouldn’t have at all, if it weren’t for the distant howls of wolves. Rab had told her not to mind them unless they grew louder than the crackling of the fire, but the sound was unsettling all the same.

The second day passed much as the first, quiet and grueling, though as they drew closer to the wall, the mercenary grew visibly more agitated, fussing with her layers and furs and accidentally thwacking her sheathed sword against tree trunks as if she had forgotten how far it stuck out from her body. Nesta, on the other hand, was exhausted from the day before but had gained some sureness of foot as she picked around the tangled roots and thorns that wove through the snow.

“We’ll camp here,” Rab said abruptly as she dropped her pack on the ground.

Nesta narrowed her eyes at the sun shining through the trees, not yet near the horizon.

“We’re close, aren’t we?”

“You can’t go into the faerie lands so close to nightfall, princess. You’ll have a good night’s sleep and then be on your way with a full day of sunlight before you,” the mercenary said. “Start the fire while I have a look around, see if there’s a gap in the wall nearby. In most places it’s invisible, but here there’s stone brought in by humans. It means there was a gate that faeries were getting through.”

“Absolutely the hell not,” Nesta said, fetching the purse from her pocket and pressing it into Rab’s hand. “We’re done here. Two more hours of daylight is that much closer to my sister.”

The mercenary sputtered in disbelief at the suggestion. But even in her shock, Rab was fast, and she grabbed Nesta before they were more than a step apart.

Nesta tried to stomp on Rab’s feet, to throw her head back at Rab’s face, but Rab was the one who had taught her to do those things. The mercenary anticipated each attack and swiftly dodged Nesta’s blows.

Though Nesta had only just learned how to escape a bind, she had lived her entire life on the offensive. She was feinting, distracting the mercenary. When Rab adjusted her hold on Nesta in order to swing her head out of the way, Nesta took the opening and spun in Rab’s arms.

She sank her teeth into the exposed skin of the mercenary’s neck. Rab yelped in shock, and it was enough for Nesta to slip away.

She took off running toward where she assumed the wall would be. Northward, with the setting sun to her left.

“Nesta, stop!” Rab cried, but Nesta was not listening to the mercenary’s voice or even whether footsteps followed behind her.

All she knew was that Feyre was somewhere on the other side of that wall, and Nesta would bring Feyre back, even if she had to trade herself to the beast that had taken her sister away.

It wasn't right. It just wasn't right that Feyre had been taken away without any choice, and Nesta had been left behind to her own wretched life.

If any of them deserved to be taken away by nasty, vain faeries, it was Nesta, who had never said a kind word or obeyed an order in her life. The faeries would have just eaten her or sent her back once they'd had enough of her attitude. Not Feyre, who always did whatever was required of her, and then some, and still found it in her heart to make things beautiful and care about others.

The woods blurred into a canvas of grey and white smudges as she ran. She barely registered the bare branches that cracked across her face like tiny whips. Skipping and leaping over rocks and tree roots felt second-nature—though her boots were heavier than any dancing shoes, dodging the obstacles recalled some memory in her muscles of long-disused dance steps as she ran toward her destination.

All Nesta could picture was Feyre enslaved to the faeries like their ancestors, meekly scrubbing their floors or being sold off in marriage to a hideous beast. Feyre, trapped for life in a misery she didn't deserve.

And only Nesta knew.

It wasn't right.

Nesta had no idea how long she ran, though even with the added adrenaline of her fury and fear, she knew she could not have made it far.

But just when she thought her winter-starved body would give out, the snow underfoot melted, and when her eyes refocused on the grey in front of her, it was the stone of a wall.

The wall.

Nesta gasped with relief and pressed her hands to the smooth stone.

It was cool, but not cold. And the air was warm, scented of lemon and roses. As if the magic of Prythian itself leaked through the wall to offer a deadly flirtation to any mortal who dared come this close.

She stepped back, taking in her surroundings. Old, rough stone ran along the bottom of the wall as far as she could see, but here, from her chest up, the stone was smooth and clean. A very recent repair if the sharp, precise fit of the stones and the lack of lichens and moss were any indication.

To the left, toward the setting sun, the patch of fresh stone went as far as she could see, sometimes even comprising an entire section of wall from bottom to top, as if the entire wall had crumbled in places. But to the right…the patch ended.

Hoping a rogue faerie or the freeze of the particularly bad winter this year had broken enough of the wall for her to slip through or climb over, she ran to the right, toward the darkening sky, savoring the warmth and the smell of fruit and flowers. A tiny, uncharacteristic smile toyed at the corners of her lips—everything seemed brighter here, and she was so close.

Nesta almost laughed when she saw the pile of boulders ahead, perfectly arranged that she might clamber over them to reach the break whence the rocks came, toward the top of the wall.

She was just putting her hands on the second boulder when a hard yank at her collar sent her tumbling backward. The breath was stolen from her lungs as she hit the damp ground.

A great shadow stood over her. She blinked the shock from her eyes just in time to see short, dark hair swaying around a shaking head.

“You are a damned idiot,” Rab hissed, pulling Nesta back to her feet. “Didn’t you hear me when I said you can’t go into Prythian tired and hungry? We’ll both be alone in the night, on either side of the wall with no one to watch our backs. And then the first monster you meet, if they don’t outright eat you, will ply you with fruit and wine and trap you in a bargain or put you to sleep for a hundred years, and you’ll be too hungry to refuse, princess. And then you’ll be no use to your sister.”

“I've gone hungry plenty.”

“That's exactly how I know you won't be able to refuse anything you're offered. I'm just doing my job to give you your best shot.”

Nesta gave the mercenary her best withering glare: eyes narrowed, one finely arched eyebrow slightly raised, her sharp lips pressed into a thin, cruel purse. “Your job is done.”

The mercenary sighed. “It's your life.” She reached into her pack and handed Nesta what was left of the jerky. “Try to make it last. Eat nothing of Prythian origin, not even a berry.”

Nesta nodded, then turned back to the wall. She expected to hear the retreat of footsteps behind her, but there was only silence.

“Why are you still babysitting me?” she asked coldly, glancing back at Rab.

Rab gave a wicked grin that Nesta wanted to insult right off of her face. “Because if whatever allows you to resist glamours doesn’t let you through that hole, I’m not missing out on my double pay by letting you die on this side of the wall.”

“I'm not going to die,” Nesta snapped, though she swallowed, looking up at the break in the wall.

There was no turning back now.

So she climbed.

It wasn’t a very long climb, maybe ten feet to reach the fresh break. But hauling herself up the layers of boulders required the grueling use of long-dormant muscles, and she was embarrassed to struggle in front of the mercenary with her bulging biceps and thick neck. It was a blessed relief that Rab did not offer to help, as Nesta’s pride might have necessitated that she kick the mercenary in the face.

And when she finally got to the top, the air undulated and sparkled, as if simmered by the forge of the earth beneath, but she could see it.

Prythian. The land of faeries, a land that only the stupidest and unluckiest of humans had seen in centuries.

She would be the first to be neither.

Through the shimmering air, she could see a forest of pale spring green, dotted by white and pink and yellow blossoms. The forest stretched into the distance, occasionally broken by smooth rolling hills and glittering rivers and ponds. She could even spy distant trails of smoke rising from little buildings surrounded by lush gardens. The undulating air seemed extra thick between her eyes and the villages, as if trying to hide their existence from her, but failing.

Nesta knew that Prythian was full of monsters, and even though faeries were known to prize beauty, she had not expected their homeland to look so … normal. Not unlike the mortal lands, just … more colorful. More beautiful.

She looked back at Rab one last time, her eyes inexplicably hot with tears she refused to shed.

“Have you seen it before?” she asked.

“Once,” Rab said. “Where the wall meets the sea. It made me sick to even look at. A dark, twisted hellhole perfect for all the monsters that inhabit it. No wonder they break through to torture us.”

Nesta scoffed quietly, turning back to the spring-touched forest. So not even the wall’s ancient magic could glamour her. Somber and steeled, she reached a hand through the shimmering air.

She was immediately met with a buzzing, crackling pain that coursed through her entire body, and she drew her hand back quickly as a metallic scent scorched her nostrils.

A quick examination of her hand showed no damage other than a little redness. Either a test that she would not fail, or a warning that she would not heed. Nesta rose to her feet and stepped through with her entire body this time.

Every muscle seized with excruciating pain as she froze mid-step, then crumpled to the stone beneath her feet.

The pain lingered this time, like pins and needles from head to toe.

But Nesta rose, shaky and panting, even as Rab yelled below her, “Come down! You can try again tomorrow.”

Nesta jumped.

She screamed as the air held her for a moment, her muscles spasming through the pain, no longer buzzing, but burning through her flesh and veins.

She didn’t remember falling, but she must have. She was curled in the fetal position on the boulder, her teeth chattering and her nose burning with the scent of metal. There was something hot and salty in her mouth and when she spat, it was bright red with blood.

The mercenary yelled again, “Knock it off, princess. You failed. If you keep trying, you'll—”

Staggering to her knees, Nesta howled again, not with pain this time but with rage.

“This isn't fucking right!” she raged, blood streaming from her nose and mouth as if she'd just ripped a creature apart with her very teeth.

She grabbed a small rock from the boulder pile and hurled it at the magic air atop the wall. “Give my sister back!”

The wall held the rock in shimmering air, then flung it right back at her, square in the stomach.

“People have died messing with that magic! I will drag you down myself if I have to!”

The scraping of rocks behind Nesta indicated Rab was following her up, but she didn't care.

“What do you want to let me through, you enchanted piece of shit? My firstborn? A blood sacrifice?” Nesta snorted and sucked up all the blood and saliva and mucous in her mouth, and she spat it all at the wall.

The spot where the disgusting red liquid hit the shimmering air glowed golden-white for a moment, and then it exploded.

✦✦✦

Nesta was floating in a pool in the Archeron estate gardens, ignoring the sound of her younger sisters giggling and splashing in the background.

Nesta loved the pool, but not for the same reasons her sisters did. The water was pleasantly cool as she slowly waved her arms and legs to stay afloat, and the sun warmed her face, and she liked the patterns of stars and flames that danced across the backs of her eyelids in the sunlight. The pool had been meant as a water feature in the garden, where water lilies and lotuses and colorful ducks could float, but Feyre had invaded it—playing pirate—one hot summer years ago, and it had been the sisters’ domain ever since. They always begged her to play their childish water games with them, but she hated getting her face wet and they knew not to direct their splashes toward her. Nesta was content to float, if she joined them in the pool at all.

The splashing and screeching faded into whispers, and a small hand laced in hers.

“Nestaaa,” a girlish voice said in her ear. “Come play with us.”

Nesta opened one upturned blue-grey eye, meeting its near-twin in her youngest sister’s freckled, smiling face. “No, thank you.”

“Please! Hide and seek isn’t as fun with only two people.”

“Hide and seek isn’t as fun when you’re doing it in a pool of clear water. It’s way too hot to go in the garden,” Nesta snorted.

Elain, who had been hanging back behind Feyre, popped her head over Feyre’s shoulder. “We’ve been playing it with our eyes closed, and then the hiders can move around but they have to be quiet or else the seeker will definitely hear the splash and find you. Please, play with us,” she begged.

“Please, Nesta, all you have to do is find us. You’re the best seeker.” Feyre squeezed Nesta’s hand. “Elain always opens her eyes!”

“That was one time!”

Nesta opened her other eye and raised her head. “No splashing, you say?”

Her sisters nodded expectantly, a wolfish grin on Feyre’s face and a pretty pout on Elain’s.

Nesta kicked her feet under to stand upright and closed her eyes tight. “One … two … three … four … five … six … seven … eight … nine … ten!” She reached her arms out and began walking slowly through the pool, careful to keep her movement silent so she could hear her sisters.

Elain was easy to find when a splash and a giggle gave her away less than a minute in. But Feyre had always been a strange, quiet child, and she was much more skilled at games of stealth. Which was probably why she loved sneaky games so much and hated that Elain had to resort to cheating to find her.

“Nesta, what are you doing?” Elain asked. “The game’s over.”

Nesta tip-toed quietly through the pool, listening intently and reaching out in hopes of bumping into their youngest sister. “I still have to find Feyre, silly.”

“But Feyre is at Aunt Ripleigh’s.”

Nesta whirled and opened her eyes. “What did you just say?”

“She’s helping Aunt Ripleigh,” said Elain, who had suddenly aged ten years and was ruining a beautiful silk gown as she sat on the edge of the pool and dangled her legs in the water. “How flattering it was of Aunt Ripleigh, to require us in her time of need!”

Nesta thrashed in the pool, turning in circles. “Feyre!” she yelled. “Come out! This isn’t funny!”

“All you have to do is find me!” Feyre sing-songed on the hot breeze. “Nestaaaa.” Feyre’s girlish voice grew deeper and huskier, distorted like bubbles in water.

“I’m trying!” Nesta cried, then looked down at the water and reflected sunlight that made it hard to see her own feet. What if Feyre had—in the deep end—when she couldn’t yet swim and only ever tip-toed on the shallow side—

“Nesta! Wake up!” called the strange, low and girlish voice.

“Feyre!”

Nesta took a deep breath, and dove underwater.

✦✦✦

Nesta sputtered as the liquid hit her face. It took several tries to fully open her eyes and blink away all the water.

“About fucking time!” said the girlish, husky-voiced shadow that hovered over Nesta against a backdrop of fading sky. “Just relax, princess, stay still.”

Nesta scowled and scooted her arms to prop herself up, but firm gently hands pushed her back to the ground.

“You didn't tumble far, but if you're hurt, moving before you know it is going to make things much worse,” said the shadow.

“I can't go very far with you straddling me,” Nesta said hoarsely.

“That's the point, princess.”

Nesta's eyes had adjusted enough now to see the long, sculpted face and scarred eyebrow—Rab, the mercenary.

Who had brought her to the Wall. Which she had failed to cross.

She had failed, utterly failed, to rescue Feyre. Her little sister, whose little hand she could still feel wrapped in her own.

“I'm just a common bitch, not a fucking princess!” Nesta hissed. “And I’m a terrible sister.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

Rab just coolly raised her eyebrows.

A hot lump in her throat threatened to strangle Nesta as she allowed Rab to poke and prod her fallen body, searching for internal bleeding or broken bones. Though by the time Rab was checking her eyes and asking asinine questions to assess whether her throbbing headache indicated an injury to her mind, Nesta couldn't hold back the eye rolls and scoffs that came more easily than breathing.

Rab froze in the middle of making Nesta count fingers, her pointer still raised above Nesta's face.

The hairs on the back of Nesta's stood on end, and she felt it too.

They locked eyes. Nesta saw nothing but terror in Rab's deep, obsidian gaze.

“Whatever you do,” Rab hissed, her lips barely moving, “don't look anywhere but my face. Don't look. Don't make a peep. Its power comes from acknowledgement.”

Nesta pressed her lips together. Her shivering had little to do with the dewy ground pressing at her layers of clothes.

The temperature dropped precipitously. It was a cold unlike that of the winter woods they had hiked through these past two days; this cold was a living, leeching thing that stole any inner warmth.

Look at me.

The voice was not a sound carried on the air; but rather something older than ears, something felt in the bones, something inherently understood. The cold thing, the leech, circled them, though Nesta did not see it.

But she could feel it. She could hear it.

Look at me. I will devour you. I will snap your bones between my claws. I will drink your marrow while you watch.

Having nowhere else to safely look, Nesta took in every detail of the mercenary's face. She traced the planes of the high cheekbones, the aquiline nose, the sharp brow, the cleft chin. A face that would have been beautiful if carved into stone, but was daunting in the flesh.

She watched the sun-browned warmth drain from Rab's face, leaving full lips ashen and scars stark white against olive skin.

I will make it hurt, and in the end you will beg for my teeth to shred you into oblivion. Look at me.

The throbbing headache turned into a sharp pain along her temples as Nesta clenched her teeth. She flinched minutely at the pain and relaxed her jaw, but it was enough to break Rab's waning focus.

Look at me.

The mercenary's dark eyes narrowed and grazed all over Nesta's features as if unable to find an anchor. A bead of freezing cold sweat dripped from Rab's forehead and splashed onto Nesta's cheek.

Rab was slipping.

Look at me. Look at me. Look at me.

The voice was ancient, hollow, terrifying, seductive.

Nesta just had to be worse.

She lifted her head and wrapped her lips around the finger that was still dangling above her face, even though the flesh was as cold as the faerie-chilled air around them. Rab's eyes, which had wandered as far as the ground next to Nesta's head, grew wide with shock and snapped to Nesta's mouth with sharp, almost predatory focus.

And as quickly as it came, the horrible faerie slithered away. Plants rustled in its wake, as if recoiling from its presence, and the air warmed.

But Nesta's shivering no longer had anything to do with the temperature. And even though she had initially sucked Rab's finger to distract the mercenary, she found she did not want to stop.

She had never been touched like this by a woman, and barely by a man—she refused to count Tomas’s assault days earlier or his harsh, foiled attempts at pawing in his woodshed before. But this, with the mercenary—she wanted it.

It was now she who needed the distraction—not just from her failure, but from their near-brush with death. She needed to feel alive.

Or maybe it was just the faerie magic that leaked through the wall here.

Either way, Nesta wanted.

Nesta's tongue lazily traced the sensitive fingertip, her lips and palate forming a light suction to take the mercenary knuckle by knuckle. She held Rab's gaze as she did so, enjoying the slight twitch in Rab's left eye every time she sucked the finger deeper.

The mercenary's full lips quirked when she shifted her straddle over Nesta, until their pelvises met with a sensation that sent Nesta's abdomen rippling with pleasure and surprise despite the terror that still gripped her muscles. Nesta arched her hips to grind her pelvis into Rab's, and when Rab withdrew her finger from Nesta's mouth, a small gasp escaped.

Her hand freed, the mercenary set to finding the skin under Nesta's clothes. As her hand tickled Nesta's breast, Nesta closed the gap between their mouths. Rab's lips and tongue were soft and ... surprisingly warm. So were her hands where they grasped her breast and slid along her waist, and so was the spot where their pelvises met—her protector seemed to run extraordinarily hot. The sensation was exquisite.

Wanting Rab’s heat to envelop her, Nesta kissed Rab deeper, harder, and ran her hands along Rab’s body until she found a series of leather laces, which she deftly untied. Meanwhile, Rab half-unbuttoned Nesta’s coat and undershirt and pulled away from Nesta’s kiss to admire the escape of her full breasts, peaked despite the warm evening air leaking from beyond the wall. Nesta tried to slip off the mercenary’s jacket, but was met with resistance as Rab buried her hands and face in Nesta’s chest, squeezing her breasts together and licking and sucking every inch of exposed skin.

Nesta luxuriated in the feel of the mercenary's soft mouth and rough hands until she could not stand it anymore and tugged on Rab's jacket again. When Rab still did not move, Nesta practically growled, “Get up, you brute.”

Rab froze mid-lick, her tongue still on Nesta's nipple, as she glanced up at Nesta and smirked.

“As you wish, princess,” the mercenary replied, matching Nesta's mocking tone. She stood, extending a hand to help Nesta rise and ensuring that Nesta was steady on her feet before Rab leaned against the rubble of the wall to remove her boots and undress.

Nesta watched intently, drinking in every ripple of the mercenary’s body as it was revealed limb by limb. Rab had little curves to speak of, besides that of her thick thighs, one of which was spidered with black veins that ran from ankle to hip. Her breasts were small but pert, overshadowed by the broad muscles gained from years of fighting. And yet, her muscles were very different from a man’s—softer, as if kept deeper inside her body, encased in thicker flesh, criss-crossed with pale scars.

Nesta thought she was stunning.

When she was bare, Rab ran a hand through her short, dark hair, a move that she surely knew showed off her muscled arms. She smiled coyly in a way that had Nesta unbuttoning her coat the rest of the way.

The mercenary shook her head and picked Nesta up before she had a chance to remove anything more than her coat. She pushed Nesta against the wall and sank her lips into Nesta’s neck, gently licking and sucking so that goose flesh spread across her skin. Rab slowly unbuttoned the rest of Nesta’s shirt while Nesta explored Rab’s bare skin, tracing circles that ultimately led her fingers to the trail of coarse hair from Rab’s navel to the warmth between her legs. So warm—the thatch of dark curls was so warm, and her engorged clit was positively burning. Nesta rolled it between her fingers and stroked it slowly, dipping her fingers into the wet behind it to slicken her touch, then playing with the bundle of nerves to feel out what made the mercenary shudder and gasp.

Rab unlaced Nesta's pants and swiftly peeled them down to pool around her ankles, kneeling in the process to bring her eyes level with Nesta's pelvis. Nesta wasn't ready to remove her fingers from Rab's clit, and she reached for it until she couldn't, leaving a line of slick along Rab's torso.

Nesta arched into Rab's hands, which slid up her legs to grasp her ass, fingers reaching into the space where her buttocks met.

“You weren't kidding about not wearing any knickers,” Rab said with a glance up at Nesta.

“I’ve never worn pants before…” Nesta ran a light, teasing touch along Rab’s thick neck and shoulders.

Rab chuckled before burying her nose and mouth between Nesta’s legs, breathing deeply and licking Nesta's clit in exquisite, heated patterns as she unlaced Nesta's boots.

By the time Rab had removed the last of Nesta’s clothes and laid her bare, Nesta’s chest was heaving from the pleasure of Rab’s tongue. The mercenary met Nesta’s eyes and though Nesta mourned the loss of Rab’s mouth, she welcomed Rab’s lips on her own and the return of access to the warmth between Rab’s legs. Nesta tasted Rab’s mouth, enjoying the saltiness of her own flavor on another’s lips. Rab dug her fingers into Nesta’s ass and lifted her onto a large piece of the crumbled wall, the perfect seat to wrap one of Nesta’s legs around Rab’s waist, while Rab lifted her opposite leg onto the boulder beside Nesta in an act of impressive flexibility.

Nesta moaned at the feeling of hot, wet cunt on cunt as she and Rab ground against each other in unison. Rab’s breaths grew loud and fast, turning into gasps when Nesta played with her nipples and licked her earlobe. Rab wrapped her hands around the back of Nesta’s head to hold her closer.

“Aren't you afraid that a faerie will catch us here?” Nesta whispered breathlessly, her lips against Rab's ear.

Rab shuddered, whether from the thought of faeries or the heat of Nesta's breath, Nesta did not know. “If I must die, I always wanted to do it mid-fuck,” the mercenary said teasingly. “Fae are horny bastards, though... Half of them would be as likely to try to join in, if you believe the stories.”

It was Nesta's turn to shudder as she imagined such a deadly creature joining them.

“Would you like that, princess? A monster on one end, and your protector on the other?”

Nesta was unable to form any response other than a moan as she imagined the scene and arched into Rab's heat, her nipples grazing against Rab's broad chest.

Rab chuckled as she ran her mouth along Nesta's collarbone and shoulder. Nesta leaned into the sensation—until Rab sank her teeth into the spot where Nesta's neck met her shoulder.

Nesta yelped at the sharp pain, which seemed as much payback for Nesta biting Rab earlier as it was to pin Nesta in place as Rab’s grinding grew faster, harder. But Nesta didn’t mind the pain much, not when it seemed to sharpen the feeling between her legs. The sounds of pleasure that escaped her mouth seemed to encourage Rab, who pressed hard against Nesta with a shudder and released the bite with a deep groan as they both climaxed.

Panting heavily, Rab released her raised leg and sank to her knees before Nesta, her large hands wrapped around Nesta’s waist. Her face came to rest between Nesta’s legs for a moment while she caught her breath before she sank her face into Nesta’s cunt and licked her once again with gusto.

Nesta tangled her fingers in Rab's hair, gently directing the mercenary's head to the exact spot where she wanted it—up, left, up a little more, more.

Licking turned into sucking, and Nesta shuddered and moaned when Rab teased one finger at her entrance.

“Do you want me to fill you up?” Rab’s voice rumbled against Nesta’s clit, and Nesta moaned again.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Lips closed back around Nesta’s clit as Rab slowly fed her finger into Nesta’s expectant cunt. Nesta immediately tightened, savoring the feeling.

“More,” Nesta said breathlessly.

Rab made a low sound of agreement against Nesta's clit as she inserted a second finger and curled her fingers to massage a spot that, combined with the vibrations of Rab's voice, sent Nesta over the edge, clenching rhythmically around Rab's fingers.

But when Nesta's orgasm faded, she was still arching into Rab's mouth. She pumped up and down on Rab's fingers, almost as if her hips had a mind of her own. Nesta leaned back against the crumbled wall, savoring the cool stone at her back in contrast to the hot mouth and fingers at her core. It felt amazing, but still, she wanted—

“More.”

Rab compliantly inserted a third finger.

“You’re so wet,” Rab crooned, pumping her hand in response and running her tongue along Nesta’s clit. “Seems like you won’t be happy until I fill you up entirely. Are you sure?”

Nesta nodded pleadingly. “I can handle it.”

Rab grinned and rose halfway to worship Nesta’s breasts with her mouth and free hand as she inserted another finger. She curled all four to rub that internal spot, while her thumb grazed over Nesta’s clit.

Nesta’s senses were nearly overloaded, but still she begged. Rab hummed with pleasure that she could elicit this response and slipped her thumb from Nesta’s clit to her core. Nesta gasped as Rab thrust the rest of her hand into her hole, stretching her to what felt like her limit.

“Rab,” Nesta moaned, her legs shaking.

The mercenary kissed and licked and bit her way back down to Nesta's clit. Her hand was now fully engulfed in Nesta's core to the wrist, and Nesta could have sworn her lower abdomen swelled with every thrust.

The sheer force of her climax made her cry out, far too loudly for their precarious location.

But it seemed, luckily for them—or unluckily, if either of them had been serious about the threesome with the horny type of faerie—the horrible, cold leech-faerie had scared away everything for quite some distance, as they didn't even hear a wolf howl that night.

They camped back in the spot that Rab had originally picked out. Though it was much warmer near the wall, the proximity to Prythian was too unsettling. And neither of them needed to say that they felt like they had already pushed their luck for the day.

Nesta barely made it through dinner—blessedly cooked by Rab this time —before she was pulling Rab under the fur blankets of the bedroll so she could have a turn at tasting the mercenary.

It was a welcome distraction from the guilt of her utter failure that day, but mostly, Nesta was nowhere near done with Rab. She didn’t think she would ever be.

When the mercenary, dripping wet from her orgasm, turned on Nesta, she hesitated a moment before saying, “I—my full name is Mirabelle. I started going by the nickname when I realized I’d never hear the end of the mockery in my line of work. It’s too pretty a name for me, but I wouldn’t mind if you called me that while no one else is around. If that’s the name I make you cry out.” Rab—Mirabelle—smirked with arrogance.

“It’s not too pretty for you.” Nesta frowned, reaching out to stroke the face that hovered between her legs. “I think you’re beautiful, in quite a remarkable way. You look like you were carved from stone. I would proudly put you in my garden to admire.”

Mirabelle snorted, but her smile reached her eyes for the first time since Nesta had met her. “Makes sense for a stone-cold bitch to think that, then.”

✦✦✦

Months later, Nesta watched as a servant frantically rushed to find a big, floppy hat for Feyre to protect her skin from the sun.

It was pointless. Feyre had returned home already freckled and tan. If she hadn’t been practically glowing from the inside, some residual magic of being loved in Prythian no doubt, she would have reminded Nesta of Mirabelle—so out of place in, for all the sun she’d drank in as she wandered the countryside, fighting faeries and wolves and protecting stone-cold bitches.

Nesta’s heart was heavy as she approached Feyre, who was examining the dirt on her hands.

“Even if you washed them, there’d be no hiding it,” Nesta said to her sister. “To fit in, you’d have to wear gloves and never take them off. Sit under a parasol and let your freckles fade.”

Feyre grabbed her shovel. “Maybe I don’t want to fit in with your social circles.”

Nesta huffed. As if it was her social circle. “Then why are you here?”

“It’s my home, isn’t it?”

Nesta reached into her pocket to toss the chunk of painted wood, a bit of table that had been torn off by the faerie beast. “I think your home is somewhere very far away.”

Feyre stared at the piece of wood, painted by her own hand with tangled vines and too-blue foxglove.

“Glamours don’t work on me. So while I watched Elain and Father dry their tears and forget everything, talking nonsense about some made-up aunt’s house, I remembered everything. I thought I’d gone mad—but I looked at that table and his claw marks, and the gouge of your knife in the cabinet, and I knew it wasn’t in my head.” Nesta reached under her skirts to her calf, where she wore an embossed leather sheath gifted to her by Rab. From it, she brandished Feyre’s hunting knife.

Feyre blinked, looking at the knife in disbelief. “Elain said you tried to visit me.”

The anger boiled to Nesta’s surface, after long weeks of letting it simmer beneath a façade of blank listlessness. She did not bother to hide it anymore—not around Feyre, whose ferocity could rival her own. “He stole you away into the night, and he lied about why, or else you wouldn’t be back now. And then everything went on as if it had never happened. It wasn’t right.”

“You went after me—to Prythian,” Feyre said hoarsely.

“I couldn’t find a way through the wall. I could see it. Right there on the other side, I could see it. Even when others couldn’t. But I couldn’t get through the magic.”

The shock in Feyre’s eyes gutted Nesta like a knife. Like Feyre didn’t think anyone would have come after her, even if they knew where she was. “You went four days through the winter woods. Through wolf territory. Through woods where faeries slip through.”

Nesta shrugged. She’d lived. “I hired that mercenary-woman who bought your pelts. I figured she owed me as much, if she was going to wear the faerie-skin that got you taken away. And I didn’t think anyone else would believe me.” Her voice came out soft, unbidden, as she spoke of Rab. She hadn’t left the Archeron estate or seen her lover in weeks. Not since the mercenary had taken a job and not yet returned.

“You did that for me?” Feyre said, the words half-strangled with emotion.

“It wasn’t right,” Nesta repeated, meeting the mirror of Feyre’s eyes.

“What happened to Tomas Mandray?”

Fury and shame welled up in her chest and coursed through her throat, threatening to break open the little box where she kept the secret of what Tomas had done to her. Nesta exhaled forcefully through her nose, willing all thought of Tomas away.

“I realized he wouldn’t have gone with me to save you from Prythian.” The words held another meaning, the subtle praises of the one who had gone with Nesta to save Feyre. A tiny gift, to trust Feyre with one thing that no one else knew.

Feyre’s eyes widened, and Nesta had the distinct feeling that Feyre was seeing right through Nesta’s hard shell of rage and pride. As much as Nesta had willingly bared in the last few moments, knowing that Feyre was seeing that much of her still made her desperately uncomfortable. But there was understanding in Feyre’s eyes—understanding that Nesta was near her limit, that Nesta feared sharing any more of her fragile, secret happiness with Rab would somehow lead to it shattering.

“Tomas never deserved you anyway,” Feyre said softly.

Nesta had to change the subject—and she was so ready for an end to months of frustration and lies and worry. “Tell me everything.”

And hours later, when Feyre finished her long tale of faeries and High Lords and blight and love, Nesta asked Feyre to teach her how to paint.

#nesta archeron #nesta #nesta deserves better #acotar #acotar fanfic #nesta fanfic #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #sjm #nesta is canonically a big tiddy biddy #nesta and the mercenary #ecilehwrites

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lluvvien · 1 year

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TW: Su!c!d€

Does anyone have/know that nesta fanfic in wattpad where she khs by j*mp!ng off then Emerie is the reporter(I think) of the incident, it's written in Spanish(I think), and the title has something to do with butterfly?

#nesta archeron #acotar #acomaf #acowar #nesta acosf #acosf #nesta fanfic #cassian x nesta

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itsswritten · 1 month

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wings

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader, IC (platonic) x reader

Word Count: 3.1K

Warnings: 18+, smut, P in V, lots of fluff

Summary: Who would've thought that your found family would be so captivated by your hidden wings? As they reminisce about their first glimpses of your ethereal secret, you realise just how cherished and adored you truly are.

"I distinctly remember," Mor began, her voice laced with excitement, drawing your attention from the comforting cocoon of Azriel's arms. She sat opposite you, mischief twinkling in her eyes as she leaned forward, eager to share her tale.

You and your friends had found yourselves nestled in the cosy confines of one of the many living rooms at the House of Wind. Wine flowed freely as tales and laughter danced around.

Amidst the flickering faelight, you sat beside your mate, Azriel's presence a comforting anchor as he enveloped you in his embrace. His fingers wove intricate patterns through your hair, each touch sending ripples of relaxation cascading through your body. If it weren't for the lively chatter of your friends echoing through the room, his touch alone could have lulled you into a blissful slumber.

"It was a surprise for sure," Feyre chimed in, a playful smirk dancing across her lips as she glanced over at your slightly bewildered expression. Sensing your distraction, Azriel reluctantly released his hold on you, joining the conversation with a gentle touch settling on the small of your back.

Cassian, ever the jovial one, added with a grin. "My experience was quite a shock," he confessed, running a hand through his hair in mock exasperation.

“Mine, I have to say is one I’d like to forget” he grimaced as Feyre gave him an annoyed knowing look.

Amren, rolled her eyes at the theatrics. "You all make such a big deal out of everything," she remarked, her tone dry and matter-of-fact.

Your brows furrowed as you pieced together the fragments of the conversation, realisation dawning as Mor's words began to paint a vivid picture.

The topic of discussion? The first time they laid eyes on your beautiful hidden wings.

𓇢𓆸

Mor, Feyre and Nesta.

It had been one of Feyre’s first nights out since welcoming Nyx into the world, and she had been craving a night off to enjoy the simple joys of laughter and the company of her girlfriends. Sensing her need for respite, you, Mor, and Nesta took it upon yourselves to orchestrate the perfect girls' night out for your High Lady.

The night had unfolded into a whirlwind of laughter and dancing, Rita’s becoming your sanctuary for the night as you all lost yourselves to the rhythmic beats and infectious energy. Drinks were flowing freely, and the hours slipping away like grains of sand through an hourglass.

It wasn’t until the sun had started to rise again that you all quickly realised you needed to get home. You’re not sure how in their drunken states, but Mor and Feyre had successfully managed to winnow you all back to River House, all collapsing in a giggling heap in the foyer.

A fit of laughter overtook the group as you stumbled and pushed, trying to untangle yourselves from one another. You managed to push yourself onto unsteady feet, only to trip over Nesta’s dress and stumble back onto Mor. With your balance faltering, a shimmer of magic danced through the air as your wings burst forth, a kaleidoscope of iridescent pink hues unfurling into the air. Your wings, delicate and light, burst with specs of fairy dust that glowed around you.

The room fell silent, the trio frozen in awe at the sight before them. Then, like a spell breaking, laughter bubbled forth, filling the space with joyous echoes. Mor's eyes sparkled with delight as she pulled you into an embrace, Feyre's lips curled into a grin, and even Nesta couldn't help but crack a smile.

"You sneaky thing," Mor teased, reaching out to brush her fingers against the delicate wings "Keeping such beauty hidden away."

“I bet Azriel loves keeping this side of you to himself,” Nesta purred, her voice laced with mischief as something provocative glinted in her eyes.

You responded with a playful stick-out of your tongue at Nesta, before turning your attention to Mor and Feyre, who were now a pair of mesmerised females, giggling like children as they reached out to touch this new part of their friend they had never seen before.

They had always known you had wings, from the type of fae you were, but you had always kept them hidden and they never dared to ask for you to reveal them.

"Hands off!" you exclaimed, your voice a blend of amusement and mock outrage as you swatted and smacked at their approaching fingers, the sound of laughter echoing through the halls.

Of course, they respectfully obeyed your wishes, but there was a warmth that filled their chests as you all stumbled arms wrapped around one another through the house, enjoying a new part of their friend that had been revealed.

𓇢𓆸

Cassian.

Cassian's mischievous streak knew no bounds, especially when it came to playing pranks on you. He found something undeniably endearing about your reactions, and there was a certain satisfaction when he knew these teasing antics could also annoy Azriel too.

On this particular day, you were busy in the kitchen, practising a cake recipe that Elain had shared with you. Determined to make the perfect cake for Azriel's upcoming birthday, you meticulously measured ingredients, oblivious to the looming presence of your giant friend.

Cassian's eyes twinkled with mischief as he saw his chance to play. With careful grace, he approached, holding his breath before unleashing his voice.

"BOO!" His voice boomed across the room, his figure looming over you with a triumphant grin.

Startled, you spun around in a flurry of flour, heart racing in your chest at the sudden noise. And then, in a moment of surprise, your magic wavered, and your wings unfurled in a burst of ethereal light.

The room fell silent as Cassian's eyes widened in disbelief, laughter fading into awe at the sight before him. "What in the Cauldron," he breathed, barely a whisper, his finger pointing at the delicate appendage. "What are those?"

You fluttered your wings away, annoyance evident in your voice as you retaliated with a playful toss of flour in his direction. "Cassian!" you exclaimed.

"YOU HAVE WINGS!" Cassian's excitement was palpable, his grin spreading from ear to ear.

"Of course I have wings, I'm a fairy," you retorted, arms outstretched in exasperation.

“AZRIEL…YOUR MATE HAS WINGS” he screamed knowing his vibrating voice would find his brother.

Azriel materialised from the shadows, concern evident in his eyes as he approached, brushing away the flour that had settled on your face. His expression shifted to admiration as he took in the sight of your wings shimmering behind you.

"Stop tormenting my mate, Cass," Azriel scolded gently, his protective instincts kicking in as he pulled you into a soft embrace, his lips pressing to the top of your head.

"She has wings!" Cassian exclaimed once more, disbelief colouring his tone. There was a touch of annoyance, as he realised he may have been the only one to not know this about you.

Cassian, like a moth attracted to a light, reached his giant hand out again wanting to get close to the wings that were so unlike his own.

"No touching" Azriel growled, his tone leaving no room for argument. Cassian withdrew his hand, a hint of disappointment flickering across his features as he chewed his lip in an attempt to avoid pouting.

"So does this mean... we can go flying together?" Cassian asked as the revelation came to his mind, excitement bubbling in his voice.

Your brow quirked slightly, a playful glint dancing in your eyes as a small smirk tugged at your lips. Cassian watched you carefully, anticipation written across his features, while Azriel pulled away knowingly.

You nodded slowly, a challenge evident in your gaze. "I’ll race ya," you declared, a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins.

With that, you pushed past Cassian and darted out of the room, your wings fluttering gracefully as you made your way to the nearest balcony. Without hesitation, you leaped off the edge and into the open air, the wind rushing past you as you soared into the night sky.

Cassian was quick to follow, a grin spreading across his face as he embraced the exhilarating freedom of flight. And not far behind him, Azriel joined the fray, his own wings beating with a steady rhythm as he soared through the air.

Together, you three took to the skies, weaving and darting through the night sky.

𓇢𓆸

Rhys and Nyx.

“And stretch them out…That’s it my boy” Rhys spoke proudly as he watched his son in front of him stretch and extend his wings.

You had found yourself in the company of one of Rhys’ flying lessons, nestled on one of the chaise lounges on the balcony, a book in hand as you half-read, half-watched your High Lord teaching his son how to use his wings.

Nyx, though perhaps still a little too young to fly, was eager to learn. So desperate to be like his father and uncles. With Rhys' guidance, he tentatively stretched out his wings, mimicking his father's movements under the watchful gaze of the night sky.

Rhys, a picture of fatherly pride, stood by Nyx's side, his attention unwavering—until a sudden commotion from inside drew his focus for just a fleeting moment. In that brief lapse of attention, the sudden gust of wind caught Nyx and his perfectly poised wings off guard, sending him teetering towards the edge, a gasp escaping his lips.

Instinct surged through you like a bolt of lightning as your wings burst forth in a flurry of motion, carrying you across the expanse with a grace honed over centuries. With swift precision, you swooped in, catching Nyx in your embrace just as he hovered on the brink of danger.

Wide-eyed and breathless, Nyx looked up at you in awe, his innocent admiration pulling at the strings of your heart. "Pwetty," he murmured, his wonder mirrored in the glow of your own wings, illuminated by the moonlight.

You wasted no time in safely landing back onto the balcony, Rhys rushing to your side with bewilderment and shock etched on his features as a torrent of thank-yous spilled from his lips.

As Nyx pawed at your wings, you carefully fluttered them away from his reach, mindful of their delicate nature. Rhys, after the scare of what had just happened, or almost happened. Took a moment to truly appreciate the sight of your wings— beautiful and light, shimmering a pink glow that was a stark contrast to his own.

His relief was short-lived, however, as it became apparent that Feyre had witnessed the entire ordeal. With a swift scolding, she whisked Nyx from your arms, sending you a silent 'thank you' before retreating inside, cradling her son protectively.

"No flying lessons with Daddy from now on," Feyre scolded directly at her mate before she cooed at her son again. "What would we have done if Auntie Y/N hadn't been here?" she mused aloud, her words lingering in the night air.

Rhys glanced over at you, questions swirling in his head at how you had so quickly been there to rescue their son from danger.

"They may be more delicate than your wings, but I am quicker, swifter, and more agile than you big Illyrian babies will ever be," you teased lightly, your words carrying a hint of playfulness.

"Thank the Cauldron you are," Rhys breathed with a soft smile, his eyes reflecting the depths of his gratitude. You gently patted his shoulder before ushering him inside.

𓇢𓆸

Azriel.

“Gods you are beautiful” Azriel groaned, sweat beading down his temple as he looked at you. Your own eyes fluttering shut in pleasure as you continued to ride your mate.

You had both finally and officially accepted the mating bond, preparing Azriel’s favourite meal as a gesture of your acceptance. He had eagerly devoured the food, the golden thread connecting you both deeper and stronger than you ever thought possible.

You had felt his emotion rippling towards you that night. There was a sense of overwhelming gratitude, a deep-seated appreciation for finally having someone who understood him in ways no one else ever could. There was a feeling of relief, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, knowing that he had found someone who truly accepted him for who he was.

But above all, there was a profound sense of belonging—a feeling of being chosen, not just as a lover, but as a partner, a confidant, a soulmate.

As the night progressed, things escalated quickly. Your bodies entwined in a passionate frenzy. Finally, after months of yearning and longing, you found yourselves in each other's arms.

You straddled him, your breasts flushed against his hard chest, in an unbreakable embrace as his hands tightly gripped your lower back, moving with you as you rode out a dance of pleasure. His large wings stretched behind him, twitching slightly as a sign of his impending release.

"You feel so perfect, angel," he purred against your neck, peppering it with soft kisses before pulling away to watch your face.

Your features were contorted in a mix of pleasure and desire, moans escaping from your lips as you steadily climbed towards climax. His rhythm became deeper and more intense, bringing you closer to the edge.

"Azriel..." you moaned out his name, throwing your head back and arching your body as ecstasy coursed through you.

“That’s it my love, that’s it…”

Azriel’s words got stuck in this throat as he watched you reach the peak of bliss, the air around you suddenly seemed to shimmer and a soft ethereal light enveloped your beings. Azriel's eyes widened in awe at the magnificent sight before him. Glowing iridescent wings sprouted from your back, their delicate pink hues dancing in the dim light of your chamber. They fluttered gently, casting a mesmerising glow that bathed both of you in a radiant aura of magic.

Filled with wonder and awe, he was sent over the edge, his own release filling you as he held the most ethereal being in his arms.

"So beautiful..." Azriel breathed out, almost in disbelief as he couldn't fathom how you could be any more breathtaking than you already were.

Your wings twitched and fluttered as you rode out the waves of pleasure, the intensity of the moment slowly subsiding as you rested your forehead against Azriel's, your breaths mingling in the intimate space between you. A blush crept across your cheeks as you realised what you had just revealed to him in your most vulnerable and intimate moment. The soft glow of your wings gradually settled, the dust they had created floating gently around the room like stardust.

"Azriel... I..." you began, your voice barely a whisper, emotions swirling within you like a tempest.

But before you could find the words to express the depth of your feelings, Azriel's firm yet gentle voice cut through the air, his eyes flickering with warmth and adoration as he spoke.

"Let me say it first," he insisted, his arms tightening around you in a comforting embrace. "You are my guiding light in the darkness, my entire soul's devotion...I..- I love you."

Your wings, now settled and slightly slumped with the weight of the moment, trembled at his words, the warmth in your chest swelling with each syllable he uttered. Tears welled in your eyes, reflecting the tear that had already spilled from Azriel's.

"I love you, Azriel," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "I am yours forever, in this life and the next."

Your lips found one another again, bodies and souls intertwining under the soft glow of your wings.

𓇢𓆸

As your friends reminisced about the first time they saw your wings, Azriel, ever the gentleman, only vaguely danced around his recollection. He shared that it had been when you accepted the mating bond for him. The vague blush that covered your cheeks was enough to dissuade further inquiry from your friends.

"Am I the only one who didn't realise you had wings?" Cassian asked incredulously, only to be met with a pillow thrown by Mor.

"You really need to brush up on your Fae race history and anatomy if you didn’t know she had wings" she teased, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"I can’t believe it all had to be so dramatic though," Amren remarked. "I simply asked her to show me the first week we met, and she obliged."

You smiled nervously at Amren's confession, feeling the weight of your friends' stares.

"So you're saying we could have just asked all this time?" Feyre exclaimed.

You chuckled sheepishly. "I only hide them because they’re delicate... and you guys can be, well…"

"We can be what?" Mor's gaze teased as she leaned in closer.

Instinctively, you moved closer to Azriel for protection, but he seemed to find humour in the situation.

"Clumsy... not always spatially aware," you admitted with a sheepish grin.

"Is that so?" Cassian drawled, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he glanced at Mor.

"Show us your wings then," Nesta declared bluntly, slightly frustrated that Amren had gotten one up on her by simply asking you.

"No," you replied firmly, not wanting to suddenly bend to their will.

Cassian and Mor exchanged a knowing look, a mischievous plan forming between them. Without warning, they both lunged at you, their playful attack catching you off guard.

You cried out for Azriel's help, but to your dismay, he seemed to be thoroughly entertained by the spectacle unfolding before him. Cassian's firm grip on your wrists pulled you closer to him, while Mor's embrace from behind left you feeling both trapped and ticklish.

"Not spatially aware, huh?" Mor teased, her fingers jabbing playfully at your waist, eliciting a cascade of laughter from you.

Your pleas for assistance only seemed to amuse Azriel further, his smirk betraying the mischief dancing in his eyes. "I'm sorry, my love," he chuckled, his voice laced with amusement. "But the outcome of this is one you know I love seeing."

As the playful assault continued, your laughter filled the room, intermingling with the contagious mirth of your friends. And in the midst of it all, your wings unfurled, revealing the delicate and beautiful membranes that had been the topic of conversation for the past hour.

They fluttered from your back, casting a glowing aura across the room and around you. Your wings outstretched resembled delicate petals kissed by the soft hues of dawn, shimmering an iridescent pink glow that mesmerised anyone who laid eyes on them.

"There she is…" Azriel murmured under his breath, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched you. Pride filled his chest as he gazed at your wings outstretched in all their ethereal glory.

But it wasn't just your mate gazing at you with love. No, your family found themselves grinning from ear to ear, their eyes alight with admiration as they basked in your radiant glow.

A glow they were grateful for, and one they would never tire of.

a/n: not really my best work, but just some loveliness for you all to read! It was an idea I came up with that I instantly dumped on @illyrianbitch (as I always do) and she thought it was a sweet enough idea to write, so here it isssss!! Enjoy my loves <3

Hopefully will resume series writing soon - Lottie x

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #feyre cursebreaker #feyre archeron #rhys acotar #cassian #nesta acosf #mor acotar #amren acotar #nyx archeron #acotar series #inner circle

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berryzxx · 4 months

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Game Night

Azriel x reader

Summary: Game night with your mate and the IC. Safe to say your ready to fight Cassian. Mostly fluff at the end

I was inspired after the game of monopoly with my cousins. it was extremely chaotic😭

I leaned in even closer my head resting against his chest, his head ever so slightly resting on the top of my head. I was sat, very comfily, on Azriel's lap his wings cocooning us into a warm and peaceful environment.

"Az? Can you stop making y/n so comfy?" Mor asked from across the room choosing her character. I looked up at Azriel who had a small smile on his face. His hand tightened around my waist, his other hand continuing the circles he was making on my thigh.

"I will do whatever my mate tells me to do. If she wants to play she plays. If she wants to sleep she sleeps." Azriel said to Mor pressing a warm kiss to my head.

I sat up a little and slid off of Azriel's lap to sit next to him, he looked a little disgruntled but all the same kept his arm around my waist his left wing around my back. "She's right. I want to play but it's just- your too comfy." He raised an eyebrow at my statement. He was probably confused as to whether I was complimenting him or not.

"You can come sit on my lap, y/n" Cassian said grinning. Nesta whacked him on the arm, earning a surprised yelp from him. "Sorry, love. I didn't mean it" He muttered.

The monopoly game soon started and of course the rules were changing as the game went on. That was one reason why Elain had opted out and had instead taken up Lucien's request to join him for dinner. Her evening was probably more peaceful than mine was currently going.

I stood up ready to kick Cassian out of the game "Cassian! You can't just land on pay two hundred and then proceed to put it in the bank. It's supposed to go in the middle"

He stood up crossing his arms "It goes in the bank! NOT THE FUCKING MIDDLE! I'm not-"

"Watch your tone" Azriel interrupted, his voice threatening and causing Cassian to send me a wink "he's whipped" he mouthed at me, earning the middle finger from Azriel.

"Why is it going in the middle? I thought-" Mor added, trying to hide her money behind her so we wouldn't know how much she had. It was quiet obvious. "It's not, it goes in the bank. Where did that rule even come from?" Rhys asked, annoyed that the game had stopped because he was currently winning and he wanted to continue charging us every time we landed on one of his properties.

Feyre rested a hand on his arm to calm him down "It goes in the middle because when someone else lands on free parking they get the money. Otherwise what would be the point of landing on free parking if you don't get anything?" She tried explaining. Cassian just looked even more angry and Rhys decided it was best to agree with whatever his mate was saying.

I clapped my hands at Feyre "Thank you! At least someone knows the rules"

"I'm putting it in the bank, none of you even know how to play" Cassian snatched the two hundred from the middle and handed it to Azriel who was playing as the banker. Azriel shook his head putting the money back in the middle.

"It's not going in the bank, mate." He looked tired from all the unnecessary arguing that was going on.

Cassian tried to shove it in himself "It does! Just let me put it in"

"Hands off the bank or else your ass is out of the game" Azriel said. Cassian reluctantly took his hands back and crossed his arms looking angry. "Cassian just put it in the middle! Someone else could end up with it. It could be you if you land on free parking" I said stretching out my hand for the money.

"Nes! A little help here" Cassian said to Nesta pleading with her. Nesta merely shook her head "You wanted to play. So play. Teams don't work in monopoly sweetheart"

After a few more minutes of arguing and a few more refusals of Azriel not accepting Cassian's money, he put it in the middle and the game carried on. Eventually Mor got the money and made sure to tease Cassian with it as much as possible.

"Whatever. We'll see who wins" Cassian muttered sulkily. Nesta patted him on the arm "I'm sure you'll win"

We all knew he wasn't going to. Rhys in fact won. Then it was Nesta, Azriel and then me and Feyre in joint fourth. Mor came second to last because she forgot she had stashed her money behind her and so became bankrupt. And last but not least came Cassian who kept landing on Rhys's properties and eventually had no money left. He survived for half the game, a new record for him. He seemed extremely pissed but all the same asked "So, should we play again?"

"If you mean without yourself then sure" Rhys said looking rather pleased with his win.

"How about a game of cards? They're a little less...chaotic" Feyre asked reaching for a deck of cards and shuffling them.

Everyone agreed, readying themselves to play. I wasn't really someone who enjoyed playing cards so I opted out and settled back onto Azriel's lap, resting my head in the crook of his neck. He smelt delicious like usual. Like wind, smoke, musk something so delightfully intoxicating. And something that made me sleepy. Everyone's voices had become more distant, almost as if someone had turned their volume down. All I could hear was the low hum of their conversation and feel the slight rumble of Azriel's deep voice whenever he talked.

I felt Azriel tilt his head slightly down to look at me. I looked up at him snuggling in closer to his warmth. I pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw earning a small smile from him.

"We can go up if your sleepy" He said quietly so only I could hear. I shook my head resting my hand on his chest. "You need to win for the both of us"

His lips quirked up even more. Those perfect lips. Lips that I wanted all over me. "Sweetheart, your eyes are closing without you even realising" He brushed a strand of hair out of my face.

"No they're not. Win for me Azriel"

"Ok, love. Whatever you say" He pressed another kiss to my head and let his shadows cocoon me so I could just barely hear their conversation. It was almost like a lulling buzz in the background.

*later on

I woke up to find myself in our gigantic bed (Illyrian wings were no joke) my face pressed into his chest. One of his hand cradled the back of my head while the other was wrapped around my waist. His wings were behind him, the warm blanket being enough for the night. Although it wasn't cold I still liked the feeling of the heavy weight of his wings draped over me. It felt like we were safe. Nothing could pull us apart.

I looked up at Azriel to see he was already awake. He smiled at me. A small dimple appearing in his cheek, his hazel eyes full of warmth. I kissed his cheek and then left a small kiss on his perfect lips.

"Your cute when you smile" I whispered to him. It was still night outside but because the curtain was left open I could just about make him out in the moonlight.

"And your gorgeous every single moment of the day" His voice was deep and full of tiredness. I reached up, my arm trying to get to his wing. He let it drop closer to me so I could gently pull it down onto me until it was draped over me like I wanted.

"Not too warm for you, sweetheart?" He asked rubbing his thumb up and down my bare skin, where my nightshirt had ridden up.

"No. Now go to sleep, shadow singer." I nuzzled back into his chest and let myself fall into a dreamless sleep.

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utterlyotterlyx · 17 days

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Moth To A Flame

Summary - Azriel has a new friend in the form of a diary to talk to, and you are completely enchanted to find out exactly what they talk about.

Warnings - F L U F F F F F F F F F F, pining, wholesome all round

Word Count - 4.1k

Based on this ask

Winter Solstice was a magical time of year, one that had become even more meaningful with the additions of your ever-expanding family.

Before Feyre, it had just been you decorating the house and instructing Cassian to help you, scolding him when he would inevitably pop open a bottle of wine and find a nice couch to perch on whilst he barked unhelpful comments in your direction. The only good thing about Cassian's laziness was that Azriel would always show up to help you, whether that be resting his hands on your hips to keep you steady as you strung up the garlands, or getting on a ladder himself to reach the higher points that were beyond your reach, he was always there to assist.

Since Feyre, you were gifted with a band of women who wanted to help, Feyre reached the highest corners of the room, Elain made fresh garland rings from whatever she could find in the gardens of Velaris, and Nesta was meticulous in the placement of all of the decorations. Wine flowed and music played, and your heart had never felt so full and content.

That solstice had marked Nyx's fourth year within your special little family, and each year, the gifts had become more extravagant for the little one.

You had opted to stay in that morning and skip the annual snowball fight, choosing to watch it from the window with Elain as you both spent the morning preparing the meal you were going to feed to three huge Illyrian bats a few hours from then. Lucien had also opted to stay behind, his reason being to make sure that your wine glasses stayed full which earnt him a teasing glare from Azriel before his eyes flickered to you in silent conversation.

Snow floated down softly from the skies and you watched with a quiet giggle as you noticed Nyx reaching his little limbs upward to the sky in Feyre's arms, grasping at the flakes that were just in reach for him to capture. Then your watchful eye moved to Azriel, the male you were so irrevocably in love with who had no idea of your affections.

It was odd, for Azriel, a male who dreamed of a mate so badly, of real true love, to not see what had always been right in front of him. Though you had to give it to him, you weren't exactly forthcoming with your feelings in fear of being rejected.

Presents had been neatly arranged in piles, thanks to Lucien, and you had made sure to make everyone aware that each person had a certain coloured wrapping paper, you had told them it would make life easier since the family was too big now to spend time reading labels. Rhys had rolled his eyes at you, but pecked your cheek with a smirk at your usual perfectionist antics before agreeing and stalking off to make sure it was imperative to your plans that they do as told.

Life hadn't always been so perfect.

You had come from nothing, no family or title were bestowed to you, and you had unfortunately found yourself being sold to the Illyrian camps to entertain the males there before Rhys and his brothers had found you and taken you in. There was something about you that captivated them, and the more time they spent with you, getting to know you, the more they fell in love with everything that you were. Kind. Selfless. Loyal. Fierce. Their family wouldn't feel nearly as complete without you in it.

Azriel had smirked when they had re-entered the house, basking in the glow of another victory whilst you barked the exact place where they all needed to sit in front of their towering piles of presents. You had gone overboard again, you always did every year, showering them all in gifts which you never expected to be returned. That was the gift of you, all you wanted was for everyone else to be happy.

The house smelt divine. Baked chestnuts and cranberries, pine and candied oranges, and whatever honey you had put on the meat. All of their mouths were salivating at the thought of sitting down at that table and turning into feral beasts at the platter you had spent weeks planning and preparing.

A seamlessly planned gap had been created, a perfect moment for you all to sit down together and open your gifts before you bolted back into the kitchen and ordered Rhys to keep your wine topped up. It was the least he could do after all.

Your pile was nestled between Azriel and Mor's separate towers, the space on the deep seated sofa between them left free for you also. Azriel's eyes roamed your figure as you dipped into the kitchen and returned with a fresh glass of red wine, your bare feet padded along the floor and the short silver chrome dress that you had chosen to wear swayed with each step, grazing against your naked thighs.

Azriel thought that you were absolute perfection, to pure for their world, too pure for him to foolishly believe that he stood a chance with you.

Your scent drifted past him as you shimmied through the gap between his knees and the table, molten caramel apples and basil, a smell he could scent from any place he stood, no matter how far or near he was from you.

All of the piles were as you had ordered, in specific coloured papers, and the beaming smile on your face made all of the hassle of running about town worth it.

Everyone began opening their gifts in turn. Mor had flung her arms around you when she had opened a glittering red floor length dress that you had custom made for her. Feyre was beyond happy at the paintbrushes that you had inscribed her name into, Nesta was thrilled with her books, and Elain's bright eyes sifted through the cookbooks and ornate garden tools you had imported from Dawn. Another jewel for the firedrake and she was content, Cassian was audibly grateful for the armour you had gotten him which held a bit for flare than his current leathers, with golden sockets for his siphons which melted into the taut black leather of the skin.

Azriel shouldn't have been surprised when you went as far as to import delicacies from the Spring Court for Lucien, an assortment of baked goods and herbs that almost brought a tear to his eye. You knew how much Lucien missed being able to have a home, and you knew that Spring was the closest thing to a home he had ever had bar Elain.

Rhys howled in laughter when he unwrapped his matte black lint roller with a violet handle, promising to use it often before opening his real gift, a piece of art you had commissioned of himself, Feyre and Nyx at Starfall a year prior, covered in stardust and smiling brightly. Thoughtful as always.

Then you turned to Azriel, noticing he had opened most of his gifts apart from the ones that were clearly from you by the state of the perfectly wrapped edges and cobalt blue ribbons. He felt your eyes on him, pools of adoration he always found himself searching for, and he met your gaze as you handed him a small square box that rested in his palm.

Unwrapping it, navy velvet welcomed his eye and he looked at you with a small frown, listening to your silent urge to open it to find a thin onyx leather bracelet with a hot white glass pendent at its centre. The light swirled and danced like it was alive, growing more active as he inspected it. "What is it?"

Smiling, you took the bracelet from the box and secured it around his wrist, your touch alone sending electricity coursing through his veins, "I've been experimenting with my power," you told him softly as the room continued unphased in its own conversation like neither of you existed, "It's a piece of my soul," your fingers rested on his wrist and he felt his heart thump in his chest, "It's just so you know that you know I'm with you to light the way whenever you need it."

Azriel exhaled with disbelief, feeling unworthy of such a gift. A piece of your soul. So that you would always be with him.

"Y/N," he breathed, "This is- Thank you," he would give anything to be able to lean forward and capture your lips in his, but instead he restrained himself and reached for your own gift from him in your pile, wrapped in shiny silver paper with intricate embellishments of flower petals.

You hadn't opened a single gift yet, too entranced in everyone else to take a moment for yourself, but you obliged the man you adored so much and ripped open the paper that encased a long box.

Opening it, your eyes widened as you took in the blade in your fingers, an exact match to Truthteller but with a hilt of diamonds and beautifully forged embellishments, "I realised that you didn't have your own, I hope you never have to use it but just thought you'd like one," your stunned silence made him fidget with his fingers and he watched you carefully pick the blade up and turn it in your hands, "Do you like it?"

"I love it," it was beautifully lethal, just like you, "Thank you, Az. Really."

The afternoon continued and you couldn't stop glancing to the open lidded box on the table as you sat nestled under Azriel's wing, sipping from your wine as he opened his last gift, from Nesta, who was busy placing the new hairpins you had gotten her into her staple coronet. Azriel tore open the paper and tilted his head, looking up at the eldest Archeron sister who raised a brow and smirked, "It's a diary, Az. People use them to write down their thoughts and feelings, some people draw in them," you snorted at the condescension in her tone to which Azriel nudged your knee playfully before thanking her and thus wrapping up the present exchange.

It had shaped up to be the most perfect solstice any of you had ever seen.

In the weeks that followed solstice, the snow melted away to give new life to the earth below, and the sun peeked out from the mountains to cascade Velaris in its heavenly glow.

During those weeks, you noticed a subtle change to Azriel, how he would fly away at dusk with his diary secured to his side, to only return an hour or so later seeming lighter and more determined. The subtle changes and the increases of his affection only made you more intrigued to find out exactly what he was writing in that book.

He had caught you far too many times tiptoeing into his bedroom, curtly telling you with a smirk that the diary was nowhere to be seen before pecking your forehead and sending you on your way.

Azriel had been much more attentive since solstice, he rarely took off the bracelet that you gave him, and you liked to think that the glow of your soul coaxed him into sleep, a thing you knew he struggled with often. Even Rhys had told you that Azriel had left his door open one night, only slightly ajar, but enough to Rhys to see him reaching to the ceiling and looking longingly at the pendent which contained your essence atop his pulse.

It was frustrating for your family to see it, to see your mutual pining but watch the other be clueless to it. Azriel had brought you flowers, brought back trinkets from his travels, he would brush up behind you and allow his shadows to feather across your lower back, he'd even cooked for you, something no one had ever seen before. Then there was you, giving a literal piece of your soul to the male, and even that wasn't enough for Azriel to see how in love with him you were.

"I'm calling it," Cassian panted as he rested on the stone pillar of the training ring beside Nesta, watching Azriel jog to catch up with your retreating form and his shadows drawling over your shoulder, "They're mates. They have to be."

"You're too late to that bet," Nesta quipped, wrapping her mate's hands up tighter in the leather straps, "We've all put money in, we bet on how long it would take for them to realise and for the bond to snap."

"And you didn't tell me?!"

Nesta scowled playfully, "You'd cheat," she prodded his armoured chest with her finger, "It has to be natural. They deserve that much."

Weeks ticked by and the group were getting restless, even Nesta, who was stubborn to let the pining play out, was getting annoyed.

Nesta knew exactly what Azriel wrote about in his diary each day, he wrote of you, she had caught a glimpse of a passage when he had stupidly left his diary in the library one night and he had sworn her to secrecy since then, but also sought her out to speak about you, about what he should do.

And Nesta no longer saw a problem in nudging him in the right direction.

"Is she still sniffing around your diary?" Nesta had asked, they were splayed across the seating area in the River House whilst you and Mor had disappeared to Rita's for the evening.

Your essence glowed on his wrist, he heard the whispers of your voice emit from it and sighed with a faint smile on his lips, "Everyday," he told her, looking upward at the ceiling and wondering what you were doing in that moment, "She's too good for me, Nes."

Humming in disagreement, Nesta sat up and craned her neck to look at her friend who was clearly thinking of the woman dancing the night away in the centre of Velaris, "Azriel," she deadpanned, "Y/N gave you a piece of her soul so that she would always be with you. Show her what you wrote. I assure you it can only go in the way you want it to."

Hint? No. Spelling it out for the dumb Illyrian? Yes.

Realisation hit him and he bolted upright, he gathered his diary in his fingers and raced upstairs, stumbling past a confused Cassian who stared after his brother before turning to his mate, mouth full of one of the cupcakes you and Elain had baked that morning with wide eyes and a accusatory tone muffling his words, "You cheated!" Crumbs flew from his mouth and Nesta flipped him off.

"You know the money is ours right?"

Cassian flopped down beside her with a grin, "I knew there was a reason why I loved you."

Painful throbs growled at the balls of your feet as you walked up the path to the house with your heels stabbing at your thigh. Intoxication hadn't found you but you still had an amazing time dancing the hours away with Mor and Feyre, giggling and talking about men until you were all talked and danced out.

Golden firelight greeted you, and your dreary eyes scanned the room to find Azriel sat before the fire but turned toward the door where you stood in a floor length black dress, with two long slits that kissed your mid thigh and a plunging neckline held up by two thin ropes.

Azriel's hair was tousled, his hazel eyes were warm pools that beckoned you to dive in, his skin was golden and glowing in the light, and he sat there with a look of wonderment that you had never seen before.

"Az? Are you alright?" You closed the door behind you and made you way over to him, noticing his neck crane to keep his focus on your face as you approached him.

Azriel had pulled the table toward him and a familiar black leather bound book lay open on the table in front of him, "Come here," his voice was low but soft, pleading but not commanding, he patted the space beside him and you sank down into it, "I wanted to show you something. I know I've been hiding this from you, but I want you to see it now."

The book was soon in your hands, and closed, the thing you had been after for so long, "Are you sure?" The idea of his diary in your hands felt wrong, like a delicious invasion of privacy.

"More sure than I've ever been," he nodded downward, giving you the permission you needed to open it.

The pages were filled with words and charcoal sketched, and you took a moment to flick through the filling book before you focused on certain pages.

Bright eyes, unbound hair, and a toothy smile greeted you over a two page spread, your eyes followed the curves of black, and you gasped when you noticed what, or who, you were looking at. It was you. Azriel had drawn you on the pages of the diary Nesta had gifted him. In the time he had disappeared at dusk to be alone with his thoughts, he had chosen to let them wander to you.

You looked to him and noted how he had shuffled closer to you, the warmth of wing draping over your smaller form and his shadows dancing across your shoulders.

"I think in a way this diary is for you," he urged you to carry on, watching carefully as you flipped through to the beginning and scanning the words he had littered on the pages.

To anyone else, they were just a bunch of randomly littered words across the page, a waterfall of sayings and phrases that had come from your lips. Words and phrases that you said often enough for Azriel to take the time to write them down.

On the next page was two lists, one of the things you loved and another of the things you hated with small scribbled beside certain ones depicting when exactly Azriel had noticed.

Flicking through, it dawned on you that the entire diary was full of you, your jokes and mannerisms, the things that made you laugh, passages of your favourite poetry, drawings of you.

"Az, I-"

"Keep going."

So you did, you kept flipping the pages, allowing your fingers to graze against his written word as you read through his thoughts until you reached one page in particular.

Y/N,

I may never have the courage to tell you how I feel, and maybe writing it down will give me the courage to let you finally see what I have been hiding.

I tried to remember the day when everything in my life began to make sense. I went so long feeling lost and alone, of feeling destined to a life of solitude, and then you happened. You brought a joy to my life, to all of our lives, that we didn't know we were missing. I don't think you realise just how amazing you are.

I am in love with you, Y/N.

When you're around I know everything is going to be alright, and when I'm away, all I think about is you. I look at that damn bracelet all of the time, hoping that it was just some thoughtful gift, but a sign of something more. You are fluent in me, you speak my language in ways that even I cannot, and I can't walk this earth without you by my side. I refuse.

I may not tell you everyday that you mean the world to me but you do. The day you entered my life, even when you were petrified, you changed my life into something so beautiful and meaningful, you make me feel seen. I may not be the first man in your life but I intend to be the last, I intend to be the only one who can make you feel loved to your core.

There is nothing I wouldn't do for you. I will love you in your weakest moments and brightest of days, I will love you when you don't love yourself, I will love you even when you don't want me to, I will love you until the earth swallows me and even then I will follow you to the next life. There is nothing on this earth that can take me from you, not even death can force us apart.

Between universes, oceans and moons, I am so lucky that I got to step onto the same land and dream under the same stars as you; and I'd choose you in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of any reality, I would find you and I would choose you.

I love you, Y/N. I'll write it and say it as many times as you need me to, whether that be verbal or not, in whatever way you need me to say it, I will.

You have me, until the last star in the galaxy perishes, you have me.

You didn't realise that you were crying until you saw your tears splatter onto the page. In an instant, Azriel was cupping your face in the hands that only you found comfort in, brushing his thumbs against your cheeks as he felt your longing and love flow through him.

Felt your longing and love flow through him.

Azriel tensed, his eyes went wild and wide as he searched your soul for a sign for anything to confirm what he had just felt pang in his chest. The pressure was building and his actions confused you, he was panting, his chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm.

You reached for him, resting your fingers over his heart and feeling the world flip on its axis at the singular contact, energy exploded around your forms, white oceanic waves rippling with intertwining shadow, shrouded in a golden shimmer.

The sight was beautiful, so beautiful that it stole your attention and you watched as your essences danced with one another, and his shadows rallied to join in the celebration. Azriel's breath was warm against your cheek and you tore your gaze away from the display above your heads to meet his tearful eyes.

"We're mates," his voice was soft, so gentle, and he ran his fingers down the side of your face, sighing with a smile when you nodded.

"Nesta is going to be thrilled that she won the bet."

Azriel threw his head back and laughed, tears of pure happiness spilling from the corners of his eyes as he fell back to your level, "Bet?"

"They all betted on how long it would take us to realise that we love each other. They thought I didn't know."

"Beautiful smart creature," Azriel purred to you and you felt a blush creep to your cheeks, a blush that was soothed by his shadows curling over it, he slowly closed the gap between you, his lips hovering just before your own. "How rude of us to keep them waiting."

Azriel noticed your line of sight flicker between his eyes and downward at his lips, "Extremely," you breathed and Azriel wasted no time in pulling your face toward him and connecting your lips in something that could only be described as universe shifting, like the entire galaxy was holding a collective breath and watching you fall into one another.

There was a hunger behind it as his tongue danced with your own, you felt those golden threads snap into place, you heard the string connecting your souls hum in appreciation and yearning for what was no doubt going to occur behind closed doors.

Just as Azriel was about to scoop you into his arms and take you somewhere more private, a shuffle of feet and a groan sounded by the stairs.

Pulling apart, you saw Cassian stood there with giddy eyes, "GUYS! NESTA WON!"

The house and its inhabitants collectively snarled, "FUCK!" Rhys cursed from somewhere upstairs followed by Nesta's victorious chuckle whilst Cassian wiggled his eyebrows at you both, you buried your head into Azriel's chest to contain your red cheeks.

Azriel shrouded you with his wings, forcing you to look up at him, "Let's get out of here? I'd like a night alone with my mate."

"Say it again."

"Mate," he kissed you, "My perfect, incredible mate," he mumbled onto your lips with a smirk, cradling you to his chest and growling at Cassian for whatever crude remark he had made before soaring into the sky with you pressed to his chest with plans to make you his over and over again.

Authors Note

Got a little carried away but this has given me life x

I'm drafting the next parts to some of my series tonight for tomorrow, what do we want prioritised? New Pages? A Fate Inked In Starlight? Can't Keep My Hands To Myself? When I Kissed The Teacher?

Let me know x

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thehighladywrites · 11 days

Text

— “You were flirting with me?”

pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

summary: You leave Azriel mid-makeout to debrief with your girls

warnings: suggestiveness, the ic being nosey, miscommunication, rhys and cassian knowingly riling az up, the girls get drunk and interrogate reader, the boys get drunk and interrogate az,

amara’s note: this might be the funniest thing i’ve ever written. also sorry for my absence i’m posting more soon💗💗

You’ve had a massive crush on Azriel since the day you met him. He didn’t really notice you and was somewhat nice to you.

Really, you had no idea how you started crushing on him, I mean he paid you no special attention or anything. Maybe it was because he was quiet, handsome, tall, dark, mysterious and only spoke when it was necessary. He also cracked jokes and flashed grins that made your heart flutter. The Mother knows how much it grated your nerves whenever a male tried to hit or talk to you when you clearly had no desire to.

Azriel was the complete opposite and you started worrying that you were the one who grated on his nerves everytime you tried speaking to him.

“Hi Azriel, how are you doing?” you noticed him sitting at the dining table, collected yourself and asked him.

“Good,” he said staring straight into your soul before he realized his answer wasn’t really socially appropriate so asked you, “How are you?”

You just smiled awkwardly and nodded, “I’m fine, thanks.”

And that was how 90% of your conversations went. There was no further comments or extra questions and fuck if it wasn’t awkward. You really wanted to get to know him but you also knew how impossible it was since even the people he had been friends with for half a millennium often considered him a mystery.

Sensing the weird energy in the room, you just swiftly said goodbye, not bothering to stay to hear his goodbye.

He wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to do something, perhaps eat brunch at the restaurant you talked about to Cassian but you were moving before he had the chance. Azriel got extremely annoyed with himself, wondering why the hell he couldn’t ask you out like a normal person.

With determination, he promised himself to try the next time.

—

The girls all knew about your very obvious crush on Azriel and encouraged you to approach him often. They were all mated and happy and you wish it was you, you that had a mate, you who got loved and kissed and hugged and fucked.

But you just had to be obsessed with a man that paid you no attention… Maybe that’s why you wanted him, you viewed him as a challenge, and you loved challenges. Despite wanting his attention and wanting to get to know him, you still had self-respect and didn’t act like a pathetic, desperate, love-sick puppy infront of him.

So you went from always greeting him and smiling at him, trying to initiate conversations to flat out ignoring him. I mean, he never talked to you first so maybe it was time to accept it and just admire him from afar.

—

Azriel began to sense a dullness in his days, a void he couldn't really pinpoint. He realized he hadn’t talked to you, or rather, you hadn't talked to him while he played it cool, trying not to make his beating heart obvious. He noticed the absence of your chatter, questions and lovely voice, realizing that his days grew more mundane and boring without someone asking about his shadows, what his plans were, where he got Truth-Teller.

Azriel observed during dinner that you didn't glance at him once; your attention was solely on the girls or his brothers. You chose to stand up, walk across the dining room and grab the bowl of potatoes beside him instead of asking him for it, and it really irked him. Was he not worthy of passing a simple bowl of fucking potatoes?

He wondered if he had done something to make you avoid talking to him. Despite not being the most talkative person, he paid very close attention to everything you said, even if it seemed unnoticed. Azriel loved your presence and he thought he made his interest in you very clear when he looked at you.

Cassian had said girls like eye contact, still everytime he stared into your soul, you only looked weirded out. Was he doing it wrong? Maybe he wasn’t keeping eye contact long enough.

He had grown extremely fond of your talking and felt empty without it. Finding you alone in the kitchen while you prepared a quick breakfast, Azriel decided it was time to talk. The others had already headed to the training grounds as you had slept in. You were cooking your breakfast, not noticing Azriel.

“Hey.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, frozen in place as you slowly looked up at him. Was he really talking to you? But why?

“Yeah?”

He stayed quiet for a bit, just staring at you in that weird way he always did. Even though he wasn't sure if you liked him back and was afraid of rejection, he still wanted to talk to you.

“How have you been?”

You fight the urge to furrow your brows in confusion. Since when the hell did Azriel care? You were truly baffled and tried to act normal.

“Uh, I’ve been good, you?”

Azriel didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all.

Usually, you'd spontaneously share every detail of your morning routine, even without him asking. He fucking loved to listen as you talked about your broken hairbrush, the struggle of choosing clothes, the snug fit of your leathers due to gained muscles, and the morning hassle with your hair, prompting you to wake up 20 minutes earlier than usual.

“I’m okay. Have you done anything else today? How is your hairbrush?”

A stupid question really, but Azriel didn’t care. He wanted to see that familiar spark in your eyes as you talked about anything and everything. No way would he ever forgive himself if he ruined something between you.

Your face heated at the fact that he remembered such a minuscule detail about something you said weeks ago.

”Oh, the hairbrush? It broke so I got an enchanted one. Heard it's like a hair miracle, tried it, and it really worked. By the way, your hair looks good. Did you cut it lately?”

Azriel couldn't help but warm up at your rambling. His eyes widened at first, and then he threw his head back and laughed. The deep, rich sound was familiar, yet it never failed to feel like the first time. It was a beautiful and joyful melody that always managed to make you melt on the inside.

"I really missed you," he admitted, feeling your heart pound in your chest, unable to meet his gaze.

"You did?" Azriel's soft smile warmed your heart, the one you'd nearly missed.

"I did. I enjoy being around you and hearing your voice," he confessed.

"Oh, I always thought you didn’t." You couldn't help but feel a mix of surprise and relief.

Stepping closer, Azriel's presence loomed over you, his hand gently lifting your chin.

“Please, don’t misunderstand me. I’m sorry that my silence ever gave you that impression. I thought I was making my interest clear, to be honest,” he murmured, sincerity gleaming in his hazel eyes.

“Okay, I promise I won’t misunderstand again. But why did you think you made yourself clear?” you whispered, feeling a rush of energy as you locked eyes with him.

“Because I made a point of holding prolonged eye contact, thinking it was a clear signal of my interest,” he explained matter-of-factly.

You couldn't help but raise your eyebrows, suppressing a laugh. “So, all those times you were staring at me, you were actually flirting?”

Azriel's expression softened, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Well, yes. I thought you knew.”

Suppressing a giggle, you bit your lip and glanced away, not wanting to offend him.

“Ah, not exactly crystal clear, but I understand now. Let’s go for a walk and chat some more,” you suggested, linking your arm through his.

"Sounds perfect. Now, tell me about those new leathers you got," he said, his playful demeanor easing the tension, steering the conversation towards lighter topics.

—

Over the next few months, the bond between you and Azriel deepened. He trusted you with secrets of his life that remained hidden from everyone else. These private conversations became the pillars of your connection, sweet moments for you only.

As the months went by, an unspoken desire for more lingered between you and Azriel. Yet, despite the magnetic pull, something kept you from going the final step.

You've had countless close moments where you almost kissed, where just a tip-toe closer would have sealed the deal. But it never happened. So close, yet so frustratingly far away.

—

Mor's question disrupted the laughter and gossiping of the girls' night, the clinking of wine glasses punctuating the anticipation in the air.

"Remind me again why you and Azriel aren’t a couple?”

Mor's curiosity hung palpably, shifting the mood from gossiping to an interrogation.

“Well, it’s kinda complicated,” you replied, swirling the wine in your glass as you gathered your thoughts.

“We have a great connection, but there's this unspoken understanding between us. It’s like there's a boundary we're afraid to cross.”

Amren raised an eyebrow, her sharp eyes observing you closely. “Unspoken understanding? Fancy fucking excuse”

Elain giggled and nodded in agreement.

You chuckled, “Maybe it is, but it’s like we're both tiptoeing around something, afraid to ruin what we have. I mean, do I want to be with him? Yeah, I do. But we might fuck something up and I think we have too good of a relationship to throw it all away.”

Nesta leaned back with a smirk, “Sounds like a case of unresolved sexual tension. Maybe the only cure would be to finally get a good dicking.”

You shot her a look, “You make it sound like a medical condition. Also that has got to be some plot from your smutty books.”

Feyre chimed in, “Maybe it is. Maybe it's time you took a bold step to see what happens. Who knows, it might get you laid.”

The group erupted into laughter, but underneath it, you couldn’t ignore the truth in their words. You liked him, there was no denying it. But did he like you as much?

—

“Is she dating anyone?” Rhysand’s casual question caught Azriel off guard as he browsed his big wine selections with Cassian while the girls where out of the house.

Azriel feigned ignorance. “Who?”

Rhysand and Cassian exchanged a knowing look. “Y/N. Is she dating anyone?”

Something about the question irked Azriel. “Why the hell do you care?”

Rhysand shrugged nonchalantly. “Just curious. I might set her up with someone.”

Azriel's jaw clenched as he fought to mask his frustration. Rhysand's casual tone grated on his nerves, igniting a simmering jealousy he hadn't realized he harbored. Suppressing a sigh, he forced himself to respond evenly,

“She's a grown female, Rhys. She doesn't need you playing matchmaker for her.”

Cassian chuckled, sensing the tension in the air. “Easy, Az. No need to get defensive. I think little Y/N might want a lover of her own, no?”

Azriel's gaze hardened, a flicker of annoyance flashing in his eyes. “I'm not being defensive. I just don't appreciate your implication. And no, she doesn’t need some lover.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, his smirk bordering on mischief. “Interesting. And why is that?”

Before Azriel could formulate a response, you had returned with the girls, your laughter echoing through the room, shifting the focus away from the questions. Azriel sighed, silently cursing Rhysand's annoying questions and the unresolved feelings stirring within him.

—

You turned off the tap and brought the glass of water to your mouth, much needed after the amounts of wine you and the girls had downed. It was honestly a miracle Mor had the energy to winnow you to the house of wind.

As the girls walked to the library for more drinking, you snuck into the kitchen for some water.

You put down the tall glass of water, swallowing the refreshing and cool drink before your body tingle.

Your stomach flipped, blood heating as your skin broke out in goosebumps.

His presence was undeniable.

Azriel was here.

Turning around to leave the sink, you saw him standing there behind the island, looking at you with a soft look that made your stomach flutter and cheeks heat.

"Hi," Azriel greeted softly as you approached him.

"Hi, Az." you replied, feeling a surge of warmth at the sight of him.

"Did you have fun with the girls?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"Yeah, I did," you answered with a smile as you looked down.

Azriel's lips twitched, and he gently lifted your chin with his pointer and thumb. He looked down at your midnight blue dress and raised his brows

"You look absolutely breathtaking."

Your heart beat faster and faster and you were damn sure your friends upstairs could hear how hard it drummed against your chest.

You leaned into his touch, the move careful and intentional. Azriel’s thumb rubbed against your jaw, your eyes glistening in awe at his handsome self.

”Thank you. It’s nothing special, I just like the color.”

Azriel's gaze softened, his eyes lingering on yours with a tenderness that made your knees weak. "It's not just the color," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's you. You’re beautiful."

A blush crept up your cheeks at his words, and you bit your lip nervously, unsure how to respond to such sincerity. But damn, he looked good, and the alcohol in your system made you feel bold enough to speak your mind.

"You look really good," you said, your voice a little breathless. "This shirt suits you."

Stepping closer, you let your hand rest on his sturdy chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the tension between you palpable. Slowly, your hand traveled down to the planes of his stomach, each movement filled with anticipation.

As you looked up at him with a mischievous smile, you played with his belt, the air crackling with the electric energy of the moment. His reaction was immediate, his gaze flickering with desire as the tension between you reached its peak.

Azriel clenched his jaw, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your breaths mingled. The sudden proximity caught you off guard, making you gasp softly.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice low and tinged with desire. "Let's not do things we can't handle."

Your breath hitched at his words, a shiver running down your spine as his proximity sent electric sparks coursing through you. “That sounds like a challenge, Azriel,” you taunted, your voice barely a whisper.

Azriel’s smirk widened, his gaze burning with intensity. “Consider it an invitation.”

You looked at each other, breathing shallowly. Azriel’s intense gaze softened gradually as his eyes traveled further down to your lips. He swallowed, pupils wide with lust.

"May I-"

"Yes."

It was a tender, sweet kiss that caught you off guard in the best way possible. You didn't expect him to be so gentle, but you welcomed it wholeheartedly.

His touch was tender yet reassuring. One hand cradled the back of your head, while the other wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer to him.

You melted into his embrace, savoring every moment of closeness. Your hands found their way to his neck, clinging to him as if you never wanted to let go.

Azriel’s shadows swirled around you lazily, one trailing up your calf and causing you to twitch in surprise. Pulling back, you were met with his clouded, lustful eyes. A mixture of concern and confusion cleared up his hazy gaze.

Suddenly, the reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. Here you were, in the kitchen, making out with Azriel—the very male you'd had a crush on for what felt like an eternity. Panic surged through you, and you took a step back, needing a moment to collect yourself.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm, I’m fine, just give me one second,” you managed to stammer out before turning on your heel and practically stumbling out of the kitchen.

With your heart racing and your mind in a whirlwind, you burst into the library where the girls were lounging, each with a glass of wine in hand. Feyre perked up at your arrival, offering a lazy smile.

“There you are, was wondering where you went,” she mused, clearly already feeling the effects of the alcohol.

Without thought, you blurted out the bombshell news. “Guys, Azriel and I kissed.”

The revelation seemed to sober up the entire room, and suddenly, you were bombarded with questions and reactions from your friends.

“Oh my gods, finally,” Mor exclaimed, practically jumping in her seat

“Is he a good kisser? Was it rough or soft? How did he hold you?” Nesta fired off questions, her curiosity piqued.

”All of you owe me 10 cold coins each. I’m always right,” Feyre slumped back in her seat, sipping the wine as she nodded happily.

“I knew you were up to something while we were in here,” Amren chimed in with a knowing smirk.

You grinned widely as you shared all the details with the girls, who were just as excited as you were. They leaned in, eager to hear every bit of the story.

As the questions swirled around you, Elain’s confused expression brought the conversation to a halt.

“Wait, why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be kissing right now?” she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

You froze, the weight of her words sinking in. “Well, yes, we were just... making out, and I had to come here. I panicked.”

In response, your friends practically shoved you back outside, Nesta taking the lead. “And don’t you dare come back until your legs are shaking and you have a big smile on your face,” she declared with a mischievous grin.

You took a deep breath, suppressing your smile as you made your way back to the kitchen. Azriel stood there, leaning against the kitchen island with his feet crossed and arms over his chest.

“Are you sure you’re okay? We don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” he said, his voice laced with concern.

You softened at his words, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his neck. Pulling him down slightly, you gave him a loud kiss that ended with an audible "mwah."

"I really couldn't be more comfortable. I love you, Az. Like a whole lot," you confessed, your voice filled with sincerity and affection.

Azriel's eyes softened at your words, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and tender.

"I love you too," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "More than I can put into words."

You felt a rush of warmth flood through you at his admission, your heart fluttering with happiness. Without another word, you leaned in and kissed him again, the feeling of his lips against yours sending shivers down your spine.

Azriel grabbed your hips and slowly backed you into the kitchen island. You yelped when he picked you up and put you on the counter, deeping the kiss.

“Let me take you on a date. I want to do this properly,” he whispers breathlessly between kisses as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

You put your hands on his chest lovingly as you nod, smiling up at him. “I’d love that.”

—

extra scene where rhys and cassian visit azriel in the kitchen:

Azriel stood frozen as you left, his mind going into overdrive, worrying if he had done something wrong. Just as he was about to follow you, Rhys and Cassian popped their heads into the kitchen.

"Yo. Where did she go?" Cassian asked, scanning the empty kitchen.

Azriel furrowed his brows at the pair, or rather their heads.

"What the fuck are you doing here? Go before she comes back," he urged, shooing them away with his hand.

Rhys leaned against the kitchen island, a satisfied grin on his face. "It's about damn time."

Cassian nodded in agreement. "Fuck yeah, took him long enough. But hey, better late than never."

Azriel frowned, feeling the weight of their words. "You guys make it sound like it was some kind of mission."

Rhys chuckled. "In a way, it was. And you finally completed it."

Azriel sighed, "Stop talking like that, you sound fucking ancient.”

Cassian smirked at him, arms over his chest as he said “Y’all kissed?”

Azriel's cheeks flushed slightly at Cassian's question, but he maintained his composure. "Yeah, we did."

Rhys raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. "And?"

Azriel shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "And it was... nice."

Cassian laughed, clapping Azriel on the back. "Nice? Come on, tongue?”

"Yeah, tongue,” he said trying and failing to suppress a smile.

Rhys raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I knew it, you little freak. What else?”

Azriel's expression turned guarded. “Okay, that's all you dickheads need to know. Now, get the fuck out before she comes back.”

Rhysand’s eyebrows shot up, a finger wagging in Azriel’s face. “You better not fuck in my kitchen, I swear to the Mother, I’ll make you both scrub every inch.”

Azriel rolled his eyes and ushered them out, leaning against the kitchen island, waiting for you.

904 notes · View notes

quinzzelx · 7 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!

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

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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azrielwingspan · 2 months

Text

A 'TEA' PARTY (AZRIEL X READER)

Summary : The prince of Montesere was a heartthrob with his exceptionally good looks and charismatic words. You were raving about him to the girls but Azriel was having none of it.

Warnings : Nooone

A/N: You guys have no idea how EXCITED I was to write this. This is definitely one of my favourites. Enjoy !

"And he said 'I'll make time for you. Always.' I DIED. LITERALLY DEAD DIED." You said waving your hands animatedly.

The girls oohed and aahed while clutching their drinks. Feyre pretended to swoon, Mor was holding a hand to her heart and Elain went starry eyed. Nesta remained stoic but you could see the hint of a smile gathering at the corner of her lips. You would bet a 100 marks that it was straight out of one of her romance books.

"What's going on ?" heads whipped to the door where Gwyn and Emerie stood holding more snacks.

"Just in time! Get over here. You guys are missing out on top secret information." Mor helped them out with the snacks, sharing a shy look with Emerie.

"The Prince of Montesere is what is going on." Nesta said, a sly smirk on her face.

"Ooo..I've heard he's quite the charmer." Gwyn piped in and everyone nodded their heads enthusiastically.

"We think he has a crush on Y/N." Elaine said making a stupid grin crawl onto your face.

"What the fuck? Details PLEASE." Emerie grabbed the bowl of popcorn placing it on her lap to share with Mor.

A rush of joy consumed you as you looked around the room. All the girls were finally taking some well deserved time off and you were glad that you could spend it with each other.

"Okay." leaning forward as you channeled your inner storyteller. "Sooo...let me just start off by saying he looks DIVINE. Dark hair, dark eyes and don't even get me started on his voice...UGH. I think my ovaries might have exploded."

"Wait hold on." Feyre carried a confused look on her face. "Are we talking about the Prince or our shadowsinger?"

Silence engulfed the room.

Someone snorted and the entire room descended into laughter. Your face heated up. From embarrassment or from laughing you weren't sure of.

"She definitely has a type alright." Nesta said setting off a new round of laughter.

"OKAY LISTEN IN MY DEFENSE---" you shouted over the chaos.

"Don't even try." Mor was clutching her stomach, slightly wincing at the pain.

"OKAY SHUSH. Y/N CONTINUE !" Gwyn came to the rescue and you shot her a grateful smile.

"Anyways as I was saying.." you shot a pointed look at the girls daring them to say something. All of them had shit eating grins on their face.

Emerie and Mor had already finished half the popcorn.

"He showed me around the city and took me to all his favorite spots. It was very---"

"Did you make out?" Emerie interrupted and the girls leaned forward their eyes twinkling in anticipation.

You were about to respond but your face had already betrayed you , turning a scarlet red. Elaine and Mor squealed , almost falling off their seats. Feyre had a wide eyed expression on her face, her drink long forgotten.

"You should have STARTED with that, you idiot !" Emerie shouted, an incredulous look on her face.

"OKAY SHUSH. The most important question. How was it?" Gwyn made everyone settle down again as she awaited your answer.

You'd just opened your mouth to respond when Nesta asked "How big?"

Spluttering in shock, you smacked Nesta's arm. "I didn't sleep with him!" You hissed in a whisper. "We just made out. He is a really good kisser. I'll give him that."

"Tell me what this male is bad at. Why aren't you with him already?" Elain asked taking a sip of her tea.

"Honestly, he's too good to be true but.."

"He isn't a certain someone." Feyre finished for you, eyes softening in understanding. You'd never told the girls about your infatuation with Azriel but they knew. Somehow, they just knew.

You didn't bother denying it and just shrugged nonchalantly. A wave of understanding passed through the room. Almost everyone had been in a similar position before. Sometimes your soul craved another's so violently, it made you blind to anyone else.

"Well..it was fun while it lasted." you said breaking the silence.

"For two days." Emerie laughed softly.

"You should tell Az---" Mor was interrupted by the opening of the door. Seven pairs of eyes focused on Azriel as he stood at the door , looking sheepish.

"Look who's hereeee." Feyre said playfully, a blush rising on Azriels cheeks as he bowed his head.

"Rhys wanted me to grab a book." he muttered softly, edging towards the wall and trying to ignore the six pairs of eyes with a mischievous twinkle in their eyes.

You were just utterly mortified. Did he hear everything?

I put up a sound barrier. Wouldn't want the Illyrian babies snooping around. Feyre's voice echoed in your mind.

You shot her a grateful smile which immediately fell as she shot you a wink. Oh no. She was upto something.

"Az, tell Rhys I'll be there as soon as Y/N finishes telling us about her Prince."

Both you and Azriel stiffened, his back still facing you. Emerie dissolved into a fit of laughter that she was trying to hide behind her palm. Nesta's eyes twinkled at the prospect of messing with Azriel.

"I can't believe you're going to be a princess, Y/N !" Elain played along. You swiped a hand across your throat repeatedly, indicating at them to cut it off.

"He basically professed his love to you already. I don't know what you're waiting for." Nesta said looking like she was ready to plan the imaginary wedding if she had to.

Azriels shadows were growing a little agitated, rapidly bouncing off bookshelves trying to find the damned book.

"If he had wings, I'm sure he would have the biggest---" Mor cut off , finishing her sentence by widening her eyes and looking down.

Emerie choked on her tea, making it go up her nose. Mor rapidly hit her on the back trying to help and stop laughing at the same time. In her urgency to move, she'd knocked over the tea pot spilling hot tea over Gwyn's leggings.

Gwyn stumbled out of her seat fanning her hands at her legs like it would help. Elain grabbed the jug of water and threw it on Gwyn's leggings soaking the carpet beneath her. Feyre who had been about to fill a glass with water for Emerie stared at her empty hand where the jug had been.

Nesta watched the entire scene unfold before her eyes with mild interest , sipping on her tea.

You just stared, absolutely and completely horrified by the turn of events.

A tendril of shadow made its way over to you and tucked a strand of hair that had fallen in front of your eyes behind your ear. You shivered from the sudden coolness and turned your head towards Azriel.

Wearing a cool mask of indifference, he walked out of the room pretending like nothing ever happened.

A/N: AHHHH, this entire thing made me feel some type of way.

Please take a min to leave a comment and let me know if you liked it as much as I did !!

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danikamariewrites · 6 months

Text

Nessian x reader

A/n: This is my first commission piece! I'm so happy with how this turned out. Thank you @dreamlandreader I'm so happy you like it 😊

Word Count: 3,223 words

Warnings: Angst, self doubt, fluff

Joining the Night Court as an emissary for the Winter Court has been a dream come true. Besides your home, Winter was your favorite place in all of Prythian. Their politics and history fascinated you, making you work your ass off in school so you could be the best of the best at court relations.

Feyre and Mor had been the ones that found you. Originally you were working for the governor of the Palace of Bone and Salt. The fact that you were being under utilized made Feyre pay you a visit, delivering a much better job offer.

Since you started you finally got your own apartment in a nicer part of the city, and you have been much happier going to work. Yes, it’s a bigger work load but you love keeping busy.

You also adored the Inner Circle. The High Lord and his family embraced you, not hesitating to treat you as one of their own. Especially Nesta.

The two of you clicked right away, becoming instant best friends. And of course she’s a package deal with Cassian.

You couldn’t deny your attraction to them as the months went on. Nesta had invited you to train with the Valkyries after working for the court for only two weeks, where you became very close. The small touches as she adjusted your stance mixed with Cassian’s praise never failed to make your face heat. It was odd, having a crush on a mated couple.

Finally, after a year of casual hangouts and staying late at the House of Wind enjoying their company, Nesta asked you out to dinner. “Nothing super fancy, unless you want fancy then we can go somewhere really nice or we can-” You cut off Nesta’s rambling by taking her hands in yours. “Anywhere you want to go, I’ll be happy Nes.”

Her smile brightened after that. Before leaving you to go make plans she bent down and softly kissed your cheek, whispering, “Until tonight.”

Seven o’clock came faster than you anticipated. Nesta knocked on your bedroom door just as you were putting the last clip in your hair. Opening the door you found a radiant looking Nesta. She was wearing a beautiful long black velvet gown. A slit up the skirt that showed off her toned thigh and a wide strap that hung off her shoulder.

“Wow,” You gasped out. You swear you saw Nesta blush as she quickly looked down. As she looks back at you her eyes roam your body. Drinking in every single one of your features. “You look stunning.” She whispers out, holding her arm out for you to link with hers. Taking it with a wide smile, she leads you down the hall and out your apartment.

Once you’re taken to your spot in the middle of the restaraunt Nesta pulls out your chair for you, pushing you close to the linen covered table. “Thank you.” You said sweetly, smiling up at her. She leans down to place a kiss on your forehead before taking her own seat. The kiss made your cheeks turn pink. It felt different than the one Nesta placed on your cheek earlier today. You could tell this one was meant to be felt. To be full of warmth and convey care.

Three courses and a very expensive bottle of wine later, you and Nesta were full and giggly. As your laughter died down she braced her forearms on the table, leaning closer to you. A giddy smile pulling at your lips you copy her. Your noses almost touching. “I have something to confess.” Nesta says coyly. You tilt your head at her unusual tone. “What is it Nes?”

Your heart was racing. Hoping for a confession of love from her. It was so wrong of you to hope that. Cassian was your friend too. You didn’t want to drive a wedge between them or the rest of the Inner Circle. At the same time you were wishing for Cassian as well. Wishing it was the both of them confessing their love for you. But he isn’t here, Nesta is. Maybe he doesn’t care about you as much as you thought.

You thought you were close with him. You shared jokes, would be board game partners, and even dragged him shopping with you. Cass pretended to hate it but liked spending time with you. Or so you thought.

“Meeting you has been an unexpected joy y/n. Getting to know you, having fun with you, and spending with you has just…I can’t think of a word to describe it, there isn’t one perfect enough.” You felt tears forming behind your eyes as a lump settled in your throat. No one had ever been this happy being with you. Not even your last boyfriend treated you with such kindness.

“I’m so happy I met you too Nesta. You and Cass and the rest of the family have been so kind to me.” Nesta closes the distance between your hands, lightly playing with your fingers. She looked hesitant to speak again. “I want to be honest with you, y/n. Cassian and I care about you. Not in a just friends way…”

Your eyes widen in shock and hope.You open your mouth to speak but the words get caught in your throat. “I-I care, I feel the same way.” Nesta lets out a happy sigh of relief and visibly deflates back into her chair while staying attached to you.

“We want you y/n. If you’ll have us.” You nod vigorously. “Yes. Yes, I really do.” You can’t stop smiling at her the whole walk home. Nesta holds your hand as you swing them back and forth.

Finally back at your apartment door, you frown a little, not wanting this sweet evening with Nesta to end. Looking between your new girlfriend and your door you let out a sigh. “Tomorrow morning Cass and I want you to come over for breakfast. We can talk more about things.” Nesta brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, coming down to lightly trace your jaw. You nod, giving her a small, “ok.”

Unlocking your door you turn back to face Nesta. Looking up at her your eyes land on her full lips. “Nes?” “Yeah baby?” Pink slightly tints your cheeks at the pet name. “Can I kiss you?” Your voice barley above a whisper.

Nesta smiles and brings her hands up to cup your face. They feel soft against your skin. Leaning up to meet her you feel a spark as your lips touch. Your mouths move against each other in an elegant dance. The kiss full of warmth like the one she placed on your forehead earlier that night. For the first time in a long time, you feel genuine love flood your body. She’s holding you like you’re going to slip away and she won’t let that happen.

Your hands find home on her hips, pulling Nesta closer to you. In that moment, you decided you wanted to feel this love for the rest of your immortal life. And if you felt this way with just Nesta, how would you feel when Cassian started showing you love?

Would he though? He didn’t come to dinner tonight.

The kiss slowed until you two were just resting your lips against each other. Your breaths heavy as you pulled apart. “Goodnight baby.” Nesta gave you one last parting kiss before leaving you.

The next morning you donned an adorable cherry pink dress, practically skipping through Velaris on your way to the House of Wind. As you approached the outskirts of Nesta and Cassian’s home you spotted him waiting for you as he always did.

Cassian was wearing a wide grin as you approached. He scooped you up into his strong arms, spinning you around. Pulling back to look in your eyes, he held you firmly. “Hi sweetheart.” “Hi Cass.” you say sweetly, wrapping your arms around his neck to prepare for the flight up.

Cassian softly took off from the old cobblestone street, the beating of his leathery wings soothing your nerves as he climbed higher and higher.

Landing on the balcony of the living room he gently sets you down, grasping your hand. “How did you sleep last night?” He asks casually, leading you towards the informal dining room. “Fine. I had some excitement keeping me up.” He lets out a breathy chuckle and kisses the top of your head. “I can only imagine.”

As you walked with him you couldn’t help the tight feeling forming in your chest. Over thinking, like you partially did last night, as you wondered if Cassian really wanted you with them.

You couldn’t help it. You knew Cassian loved you as a friend, but his love for Nesta is like nothing you have ever seen before. You didn’t know if he would like bringing another person into their mated relationship. It took Cassian so long to win Nesta’s trust and heart. Would he want to let another share that?

Entering the kitchen you saw Nesta laying out plates of food on the table. Muffins, croissants, fruit, breakfast meats, and pancakes. Cassian pulls your chair out for you, like Nesta did last night. He pushes you in and takes the seat next to you.

Nesta sits across from you with a sweet smile on her lips. “Hi baby,” she takes your hand, bringing it to her lips. “Please dig in.”

Scooping food onto your plate the three of you fall into easy conversation. After a while you fall into a lull, unsure what to talk about besides the obvious.

Clearing your throat, you decide to start. “So…Nesta and I talked last night.” The pair perked up, making slight eye contact. “And I want to be with you guys.” They let out a sigh of relief and Cassin rested an arm on the back of your chair, smiling down at you. “But, I have a few questions.” Nesta nods. “Ask whatever you want, we’ll answer it.”

You turn to Cassian, a small pout on your lips and a sliver of worry in your eye. “Why didn’t you come to dinner last night?” He lets out a shaky sigh. Like he’s nervous to say anything to you. “We thought if it was just one of us, you’d be less intimidated by the thought of a relationship.” You slowly nod, letting his response seep in. “And you don’t mind this Cass? I don’t want to be a burden or cause problems for the two of you. I just-” Cassian tilts your face up by your chin with two of his thick fingers. A doting look on his features.

“Sweetheart. You have nothing to worry your pretty little head about. Rest assured, we both want you as much as you want us.” His thumb rubs against your chin. You felt relief knowing your anxiety was all for nothing.

…

Weeks have passed since your relationship started with Cassian and Nesta. It started out…chaotic to say the least. The three of you wanted time together but work picked up for all three of you. It was a busy time of year with the holidays right around the corner.

It also didn’t help that Cassian was away in Windhaven for a few days every week. It had just been you and Nesta at your apartment or the Town House.

Cassian being away made that doubt about how much they actually wanted you creep in again. You love your time with Nesta but you craved time with both of them. To just sit with them and bask in their attention. Maybe it was a mistake being with a mated couple.

On the last night of Cassian being away Nesta slept over at your apartment. You opted to sleep on your side rather than in the middle of the bed cuddled up with her like you usually would. You were too tense, lost in your thoughts and didn’t want Nesta to worry. Though she probably sensed it.

As Nesta laid down you curled in on yourself, trying to get further from her. This didn’t go unnoticed as she huffed at your movement. Sitting up, Nesta turns the lamp on on the bedside table, the dim yellow light illuminating her profile. She grabbed your shoulder and turned you to face her.

“Talk to me y/n.” Nesta pleaded with you. Taking a deep breath, you sit up, bringing your knees to your chest. Nesta rests a comforting hand on your arm, her thumb rubbing small circles on your skin. Worry glinting in her steel-blue eyes. You lay a hand over hers, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“Does Cassian like me?” Her face contorts into confusion. “Baby of course he does, he loves you. Why wouldn’t he?” You shrug, unable to meet her gaze in fear of bursting out into tears. “I just-I feel like he doesn’t want to spend time with me. I know work has been crazy but there’s a part of me that doubts…everything.”

When you look up at Nesta a single tear falls down her cheek. She shuffled closer to you, throwing her arms around your neck, pulling you flush to her chest. A few tears escape your own eyes. “I’m sorry baby. I’ll talk to him or we can all talk when he gets home.” You nod against her.

Cassian arrived home late the next afternoon. Wearing that wide goofy grin on his face as he came through the door of the Town House, embracing you both.

Back at the House of Wind later that night, you and Nesta lounge in the living room as Cassian makes dinner in the kitchen.

Sitting down at the table together Cassian tells you about his trip to Windhaven. It takes all of you not to interrupt him and blurt out, ‘DO YOU LOVE ME!’ But you hold your tongue as you push your vegetables around your plate. You don’t have much of an appetite anyways.

Cassian’s booming laugh pulls you from your thoughts. Out of the corner of your eye you see Nesta quickly glance at you. Looking up at Cassian you give him a small smile that he returns. “Sweetheart, I was wondering if you wanted to go out, just me and you.” You sit up straighter, surprise taking over your features. “Really?”

“Yes,” He laughed out, “Nes gets you all the time and I want you to myself for a bit.” You look to Nesta, as if asking for permission. She gives you an encouraging nod. “Ok. Can we go out tomorrow night?” “Absolutley.” Cassian brings a hand to the back of your head, placing a chaste kiss on your head.

Nesta helps you get ready for date night. Finishing up your make-up she lets out a dreamy sigh, “You look so pretty y/n/n.” She moves behind you to make sure your hair is perfect. “I’m excited to have the house to myself. Not that I don’t love having you two around but sometimes I just want to get lost in my book.” She giggles to help lighten the mood, making you giggle too. Nesta meets your y/e/c eyes in the mirror. She gives you a loving smile, draping your hair over your shoulders. “Ready?” “Uh-huh.”

Heading down the grand staircase you see Cassian waiting for you at the bottom with a bouquet of your favorite pink roses. Cassian watches you with a love sick grin as descend the last few steps. “You look stunning.” A slight blush dusts your cheeks as you look up at him. Cassian hands you the bouquet. You sniff them, taking in their sweet scent before placing them in the vase on the entry way the table the house put out for you.

You were surprised that you weren’t nervous during dinner. You and Cassian had fun joking and flirting like normal. He was extra touchy with you, never letting go of your hand an dpractically pulling you onto his lap at times. Cassian made sure he gave you his undivided attention throughout dinner.

Hand-in-hand, you take a walk along the Sidra, admiring the stars. “Lets sit for a minute sweetheart.” Cassian places a hand on the small of your back, guiding you to the nearest stone bench. Sitting, Cassian holds your hands in his lap.

“I wanted to talk about us.” You swallowed nervously at his words. “Nesta talked to me. And I’m sorry that you’ve kept that pent up for so long. I love you very much y/n. I’m so sorry if I haven’t shown you that. I promise that I will show you how much I love you for the rest of our lives.”

You grip his hands tighter in yours. Letting their warmth seep into you. Cassian’s hands are rough and battle worn. Yet so gentle with you, like Nesta’s. You feel safe with him. From the look in his eyes you know he meant every word. That it pained him you didn’t feel loved by him.

“I love you too Cassian.” You leaned your head against his shoulder. The two of you sat like that for a while, watching the stars shimmer.

…

It’s been almost a year since you started dating Nesta and Cassian and you couldn’t be happier. The three of you fell into a comfortabel routine. You always made time for each other, had regular date nights, and made sure time with family was balanced out as well as one-on-one time. And thanks to Nesta and Cassian’s endless begging you broke and moved into the House of Wind.

You placed down the last snack bowls, stepping back you admire the setup. Tonight was a night for just the three of you. It was rare you all got to relax and you were happy to see them let their guard down. To put away the mask of the General and Valkyrie.

You hung small fae lights, laid out extra blankets and pillows, set out snacks, and everything you will need for face masks. The front door shut as Cassian and Nesta’s voices floated up to you from the entry way. Approaching the living room they paused in the archway.

“Do you like it?” You ask, clasping your hands under your chin. Nesta rushed over to you, pulling you into a crushing hug. “It’s perfect.” She mumbled into your hair. You relax into her as Nesta hugs you tighter than you thought possible. “Missed you today.” “I missed you too Nesa.”

She broke away, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “I’ll be back, I’m going to change. Are you coming with me Cass?” You both look to him. Cassian is casually leaned against the door frame as he shakes his head. “Nah, I’m just going to chill in my underwear.” Before the two of you can protest he strips in the middle of the living room. “Will you take my leathers to our room?” He asks with a shit eating grin.

Nesta rolls her eyes at him, playfully slapping his shoulder. “Fine. But don’t start without me.” she calls over her shoulder. Cassian rushes at you picking you up, and flopping on the couch with you against his chest. You giggle and snuggle into his muscular chest. “Missed you today sweetheart.” “Missed you too Cass.”

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ecileh · 2 years

Text

Queen of Harlots

“She’d been prepared to offer the only thing she had to barter to Tomas, if it would have kept Elain from starving. Would have sold her body on the street to anyone who’d pay her enough to feed her sister. Her body had meant nothing to her—nothing, she’d told herself as she’d felt her options closing in. Elain meant everything.” - A Court of Silver Flames, Chapter 25

Pairing: Nesta/Surprise Sugar Daddy, Tomas makes a brief appearance :(

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8k

CW: Sex work, survival sex work, dubious consent, starvation, rough blow job, age gap, whorephobia and antiquated ideas of virginity for the drama, please understand that the Archerons are starving and Nesta is literally whoring

AO3 link where the story will continue

BOOK I: A COURT OF THORNS AND ROSES

It had been five days since Feyre last brought home a stringy, winter-starved rabbit. They’d made a thin, greasy stew that lasted four days.

As of yesterday, there was nothing.

Feyre had hunted all day yesterday, leaving the morning after their last, meager dinner. She’d returned late that afternoon with nothing. They boiled water with a handful of old, dry herbs for dinner. It wasn’t even tea; they hadn’t been able to afford tea in years.

It did nothing to keep them warm that night as their cold, thin bodies shivered side by side in the little bed. Nor did the blankets or the fire that burned in the hearth. Unless they got something in their stomachs soon, they’d never be warm again.

So Feyre left again, the next morning before dawn. Elain could sleep through an earthquake, which was why she had the middle of the bed. But Nesta felt the old frame shudder as Feyre slipped out of bed and dressed.

Nesta rose to follow her youngest sister, hissing as her bare feet pressed against the cold floor. Feyre was just slinging her bow over her shoulder when Nesta entered the main room.

“If you don’t catch anything today, we’ll all die,” Nesta said, not caring if she woke their father, who was sleeping on a cot by the hearth. She didn’t much care at all what happened to him, not after the way he’d let his children go unfed, unwed, and uncared for since their mother died.

“You think I don’t know that?” Feyre hissed, not bothering to hide the anger in her voice. She grabbed Nesta’s hand and pulled her outside, the door softly clicking behind them. The snow burned on Nesta’s feet, and the winter wind whipped right through her thin nightdress.

“Don’t you understand that there’s nothing? The forest is empty. I’ve had to go farther and farther every time. I’m hunting on a stomach every bit as empty as yours, and I don’t see you doing a single thing to help.”

Nesta glared at her younger sister, who had fed them all for five years but never missed an opportunity to lord it over them. So Nesta just said what their mother would have said. “You could at least brush your hair so you don’t look like a peasant.”

Feyre let out a long-suffering huff. “If you want to eat tonight, chop some damn wood.”

Her youngest sister disappeared into the snow, and Nesta was left shivering and alone.

When Elain and their father awoke, they huddled by the hearth, Elain chatting while their father carved bits of wood. When there was almost no firewood left, neither Elain nor their father rose to bring in more. Instead, they drew closer together for warmth, Elain tucking a threadbare blanket around their father. It was like they didn’t even think to rebuild the fire. Like they wouldn’t use any of their few resources unless Feyre was around to allot them.

In contrast, Nesta had no problem using their resources, and she always knew what needed to be done, even if she rarely did it, seeing no reason to take care of a father who’d never cared for her. But today it was that or they’d all freeze. Silently, she rose and struggled to put on her too-tight boots, the ones she had needled Feyre for, only for her sister to buy them a bit too small. Nesta knew she should have just given them to one of her sisters, who were both slightly shorter and smaller-footed than her, but she was too proud to admit defeat.

With mincing steps, Nesta trudged out to the stump where Feyre chopped wood. She selected a large log that could last through dinner and the long winter night once it was split. Wrapping her arms around the log, she tried to lift it, only for her vision to darken at the edges and her legs to give out in her weakened, hungry state. The snow-covered ground met her hands and knees with a cold thud. Determined to return with wood, Nesta left it in favor of a smaller log, one that she had half a chance of carrying and splitting.

She at least managed to place the log on the stump, but swinging the axe proved to be too much, and everything went black.

Nesta came to slowly, awoken by the violent shaking of her body and the cold, melting snow that seeped into her tattered clothes. She considered laying there, face down in the snow, forever. Or at least until her miserable life finally ended. But Elain needed her. So Nesta slowly rose to her feet and brought the entire small log to place on the fire. It burned poorly, but it was better than going through all the split wood before Feyre came home.

Except Feyre didn’t come home. Even as the sun dipped low, she still remained in the forest.

Nesta didn’t care if she herself starved to death. Since they’d fallen into destitution, she had not cared about herself. All she fostered in her heart was spite for her father, love for Elain, and resentment toward Feyre for prolonging their pitiful, worthless lives. But now Feyre wasn’t keeping them alive, and Elain couldn’t, and their father wouldn’t.

So she changed into her least-ragged dress and, once again, she put on her too-small boots.

“Where are you going?” Elain asked.

“To trade my boots for some bread,” Nesta lied. The boots may still be stiff, but Feyre had learned years ago that neither the baker nor the tavernkeeper would trade for clothes—only coin. And the farmers weren’t trading—not this deep into winter.

If Nesta truly were to trade her shoes, it would need to be on market day, which was not until tomorrow. But Nesta doubted that Elain and their father remembered any of these facts.

Her father didn’t even look up from his wood carving.

“Do you think you could get a new cloak for me, too? And some butter for the bread?” Elain asked hopefully. “You know I hate dry toast.” The last sentence was a childish whine, but Elain’s self-centered guilelessness had always been endearing to Nesta, in no small part because it was so completely contrary to Nesta’s guilt-ridden cruelty.

“I’ll try,” Nesta said.

The walk to town was blessedly short enough to keep her from dwelling too long on her destination. The thought of selling her body to feed her family had, of course, crossed her mind. She’d been seventeen when the last of their father’s money had run out five years ago; in other situations, it may have been expected of her, the beautiful eldest daughter and nearly a woman, to care for her family in this way. But the thought had not occurred to Nesta for long—in part because she would have starved before she put food in front of her father, who whittled away their mother’s fortune and did nothing to feed their family, and in part because Feyre shouldered her bow and brought home a deer before it got to that point.

But now it was that point, and she was too much of a coward to make good on her threat to watch them all starve. She could not watch Elain die.

And her body meant nothing to her.

Her body had never been anything but a vessel for her mother’s ambitions. For dancing and fitting into corsets tiny enough to seduce wealth and nobility. Marrying a lord or a duke. Bearing his heirs. The exchange of her maidenhead for food would just be the final nail in the coffin of her mother’s long-dead plans.

The Mandray family house appeared through the snow, candles already lit in the windows even though the sun was still setting. Evidence of their relative abundance, even as Tomas’s father lamented the number of children and mouths to feed. Feyre said she often saw Tomas hunting in the woods, looking hungry, as if that would deter Nesta from dallying with him. But Tomas’s father worked as a woodcutter and always had a bit of coin when it came down to it, even if he ensured he ate better than his children in sparse times.

It was the father who answered the door, frowning at her as the delectable smell of roast meat and vegetables wafted from inside. “Yes?”

“Evening, Mr. Mandray. I thought Tomas might fancy a walk with me.” Nesta bobbed her head as politely as she could manage despite her trembling.

“Is that Nesta Archeron? Ask her—” called the faint voice of Mrs. Mandray from the kitchen.

“We’re eating dinner.” Even though the Mandrays had never invited her to sup with them, the smell of food still unfairly raised her hopes. “Tomas may come out afterward.” He shut the door in her face.

Nesta steeled herself and went to wait for Tomas in the woodshed, where they usually met. His father had never approved of her, not when she had nothing but a rich wife’s training to offer his son, and not even a rich wife’s dowry. She could dance and play instruments and read, but what use was that to a woodcutter’s son, who needed a dowry and someone to cook and clean and raise his children?

Which was how she knew, even though she put on airs around her sisters, that Tomas would never marry her.

It was full dark by the time Tomas entered the shed, hanging a lantern on the wall. He kissed her by greeting, his tongue reaching to the backs of her molars as if he wanted to fill her to the throat. When he finally pulled away, he ran his hand across her jutting collarbone then down to her cleavage, slipping a finger under her bodice to search for her nipple. “My dear Nesta, you’d best watch you don’t let these glorious tits waste away… Have you come because you’re finally hungry for my cock?”

He’d become insistent these last weeks, especially once he finally realized that he would never have her in the bridal bed. She forced herself to smile through her discomfort. The only possible way her pride could make it out of this shed alive would be if she convinced both of them that this was what she wanted.

“That’s not all I’m hungry for.”

“What else then? I’ve only got the one appendage.”

Nesta took a deep breath. “I thought we might have a romantic picnic first. Some bread, some cheese—”

“Well, I’ve just eaten, and I’m plenty full of food. And seed.” He placed his hands on her waist and shuffled her up against the wall of the shed.

“But I am not,” Nesta said pointedly, hoping Tomas would finally understand the meaning behind her words.

He blinked, then smiled. “Are you trying to whore yourself to me to feed your wretched family?”

“Does that excite you?” she asked, bringing her lips close to his ear and running her hand across the bulge in his pants. “Haven’t you wanted to make me your harlot for months now?”

“Gods, yes,” he groaned, turning to lean against the wall. “Get on your knees.”

“What?” Nesta was quite certain she knew how sex worked, but this was unexpected.

“You’re so hungry, I bet you’ll eat anything, won’t you, whore?” Tomas nudged her down to the floor, then unbuckled his pants, now at her eye level. He pulled out his erect cock and pressed it at her closed lips. “Open that mouth and let me fill you up like the tart you are.”

Nesta hesitated, but his cock was pushing on her lips and his hand was on her head. So she parted her lips and allowed his cock entrance into her mouth.

“Use your tongue, and keep your teeth behind your lips.” Tomas held her head as he pumped his cock in her mouth, the salty, musty taste of him overpowering. “You’ve never even done this before, have you?”

Nesta shook her head as much as she could with him grasping her and made a sound that she meant him to understand as no, I haven’t.

“Suck and open your throat a little… Gods, that’s perfect.” He thrust harder, and his cock hit the back of her throat, then slipped even deeper. She gagged with force, which seemed to please him as he groaned and pulled her head closer, keeping his cock deep in her throat. She might have vomited if her stomach wasn’t so wretchedly empty. “Suck it, Nesta. Gag for me.” He shuddered and moaned, and then his cock was pulsing, thick liquid spilling down her throat and seeping into her mouth, hot and bitter.

Tomas removed his softening cock from her mouth and pulled her to stand up straight. Daintily, Nesta wiped her swollen lips.

“Are you still hungry?” he asked.

She nodded, the bitter taste of him lingering in her mouth.

“I think I filled you up quite enough. Don’t be an ungrateful whore. Are you still hungry?”

“No,” she said softly, bitterly, hoping that was what he wanted. “I’m so full.”

“Good.” Brushing her to the side, he left the woodshed without another word.

Shaking with fury, Nesta leaned against a pile of wood and sank to the floor. It wasn’t that letting Tomas use her had been as horrible as her mother had led her to believe. It hadn’t been difficult, or any more distasteful than chopping wood or any other menial task, but … to do it for nothing? To risk her reputation and have nothing to show for it? She wanted to vomit up everything he’d pumped into her throat, but feared that the effort would leave her unconscious, frozen to death in the Mandrays’ shed come morning.

But then Tomas returned with something wrapped in a handkerchief, which he tossed in the dirt.

“You know, whores usually do better than a bit of bread for their maidenhead,” he leered, taking the lantern from the wall. “Come back once I’m hungry again and maybe I’ll take yours for what it’s worth. At least two pieces of bread.”

And then she was alone, staring at the little package at her feet in the moonlight. Then, realizing food was within her grasp, she lunged for it, untying the handkerchief with trembling fingers. Inside was a heel of bread and a thin slice of cheese. Her family had shared less for a meal before, in the worst of times. Perhaps it would be enough for them to last through the night until Feyre came back. If Feyre ever came back.

But her stomach seized with a hunger pang, and before she even realized what she was doing, she was shoving the food in her mouth. Just a bite, she told herself at first. Just a bite to get her through the cold walk home. Feyre often made the same excuse for taking a little extra food with her when she went out hunting, and nobody faulted her for that. But Nesta couldn’t stop, the need to get something solid in her belly—to taste something, anything that wasn’t Tomas’s semen—overwhelming all rationality. And then the handkerchief was empty, and she was still starving.

She wept to see the last of the food gone, knowing that she had failed Elain and taken everything for herself. Even as she left the woodshed and began to walk home, the tears still fell. Nesta couldn’t remember the last time she wept.

The Mandrays lived on the other side of the village, so she had to pass the little main street of shops on her way home. Candles twinkled in the windows, blurred by the falling snow. Despite the cold, the street was lively near the tavern, and Nesta realized she didn’t have to go home empty-handed.

Whores usually do better than a bit of bread for their maidenhead, Tomas had said.

So Nesta wiped the half-frozen tears from her cheeks, adjusted her threadbare, too-loose dress so that her cleavage curved above its neckline, and strode toward the tavern.

She leaned against the cold stone wall, arms crossed against the cold and to prop up her breasts as she wantonly met the gaze of every man entering or exiting the tavern. None approached her, though, and she could not bring herself to shout her price. She would have taken anything a man offered for her body, anyway. Despite having a few bites of food in her stomach for the first time in days, she began to shiver once again as the cold entered her bones.

“You can freeze to death out here, or you can plug your wares in the back room. Your choice, but the men inside the tavern tend to have more money than those loitering in the streets.”

Nesta turned to face the voice that spoke to her. It came from a curvy woman in a red dress—the tavern keeper, perhaps.

Nesta narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “What’s the cost?”

“Half to the house. And you can do it in the warmth instead of a frigid, filthy alley. But if you’re going to stay outside, get off my pub.”

Nesta’s eyes slid to the window, regarding the merry warmth within. What was a few silvers less from the final take when she had nothing to start with? Even if it meant leaving the anonymity of the darkening evening, at least Elain would eat sooner.

So she followed the tavern keeper, who led her through the bright public room. Nesta tried to keep her head down, hoping that nobody would recognize her golden-brown crown braid, that there were no Mandrays or Hales or Beddors out drinking tonight.

“How—how much do you think I can get?” Nesta asked as she was led down a set of stairs.

The tavern keeper—madam—continued to the landing, then motioned for Nesta to stand closer to the lamp. She looked Nesta up and down, then said, “You’re pretty. Clean. Great tits. Look a bit sickly, though.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Then you’ll work all the harder for a good tip, eh? Don’t take less than twenty silver for a simple rut. And consider extras.”

“Extras?”

“Huh. How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

“You look younger. Have you not done this before?”

Nesta shook her head slowly.

The madam roughly turned Nesta around and prodded her to start walking. “Go! Upstairs.”

“Don’t you dare turn me away. I know what to do—” Nesta commanded as the madam marched her upstairs.

“I’m not turning you away, you stupid virgin. A first-timer gets an auction, if you want it. You’ll easily get four times as much just for the novelty of a new face and a maidenhead. But you won’t get any attention in those rags. All the way up, top floor.”

The madam ushered Nesta into a small but comfortably appointed apartment, full of mirrors and vanity tables and chaises. She sorted through a long rack of gowns and lingerie, and began holding up outfits to Nesta as if checking them against her coloring.

“I don’t think I can afford any of those,” Nesta said.

“You can afford my cleaning fee. Change before you collect your earnings and it’ll only be an extra five on top of my sixty percent,” said the madam, holding up a black gown with a plunging neckline. “Yes, I think this one. Maidens usually get white and blue and pink, but you’re rather severe, aren’t you? Like already you think you’re the Queen of Harlots.”

“You said half before,” Nesta said coldly.

The madam laughed. “Looks like a queen, haggles like a true whore. Keep those wits about you. If you fetch more than a hundred, I’ll only take half and rent the dress for free.” She held out the dress.

Nesta accepted it.

✦✦✦

The underground saloon was small and cozy, but packed with a few dozen people. Men lounged on red furniture, drinking liquor and smoking pipes as they played cards or dandled painted harlots in various stages of undress on their laps. It was a den of sin through and through, most notably marked by the shabby velvet curtains covering most of the room’s walls. In a few spots, the curtains were tied back to reveal little nooks containing beds covered in faded satin and velvet and tasseled pillows. Not all of the visible bed-nooks were empty; at least one or two held writhing tangles of flesh and limbs—those who apparently enjoyed exhibiting themselves to a room full of strangers. Nesta shuddered and hoped she would have the privacy of a curtain, at least.

In one corner, there was a stage where a pianist played merry tunes. It was here that the madam brought Nesta after a long stroll through the room, during which the madam greeted her regulars and showed Nesta off. “To drum up a bit of excitement,” she explained.

Nesta was not sure the burning feeling in her stomach was excitement. Anxiety, perhaps, or Tomas Mandray’s seed curdling in her belly. But she kept her chin high and her spine straight—at least, as straight as she could stand without her breasts escaping the perilously low-plunging dress.

When they reached the stage, the madam clapped her hands and silence fell upon the small crowd, except for the faint moans and creaks that escaped the velvet-curtained nooks.

“We have a special treat tonight, gentlemen. A fresh face—a maiden, in fact—and you know what that means!” the madam cried, to applause from the men of the crowd. The harlots—the other harlots, she was no different from them, she had to remind herself—just looked beautifully bored and sipped their wine as they sized up the newcomer. She gazed back at them all with her usual imperious air, hoping it made her look very expensive.

“Turn in a circle, so they can have a look at you,” the madam hissed to Nesta.

“Great tits!” someone jeered, and a chorus of whistles and hollers rose from the crowd. Nesta’s cheeks burned.

The madam cried to the crowd, “Isn’t she beautiful! For tonight, she could be your queen. We’ll start the bids at thirty silver.”

Several hands shot into the air. The madam pointed at the quickest, then raised the bidding to forty.

It was really happening. There was no going back now.

At fifty silver, even with the madam’s take, she would be able to bring home as much food as she could carry from the tavern kitchen, and then still feed her family for month after.

At thirty, she could also get Elain a new cloak.

Then the bids hit a hundred. New shoes, or food for another month.

Why had she let herself suffer and starve for years, when she could have gotten on her back once in a while and lived like a queen?

When the bidding was still going at one hundred fifty, a well-dressed, tanned man in his mid-forties threw up his hand and cried, “Two hundred, to end it now!”

The madam looked utterly pleased as she cried, “Do I hear two hundred and ten? Two hundred to you, sir!” She clapped her hands and led Nesta to the table where the man sat alone. The madam and the man exchanged money, and Nesta was sold.

When the madam had bustled away, Nesta stood there, feeling incredibly awkward behind her frozen face, unsure if she should lead the man straight to the nook the madam had indicated was theirs, or wait for his cue, see if he wanted to fondle her half-dressed in front of everyone.

“Please, would you sit and have a drink with me?” the man finally asked.

Nesta almost smiled, as she had for Tomas—but something about this man told her that he wasn’t interested in fake sweetness. He had offered one hundred silver, twice as much as the madam had expected for a virgin, even as Nesta stood on stage and glared daggers at the room.

So instead she slipped into the chair, folding her arms and looking at the man appraisingly. He wasn’t bad-looking for an older man, slightly lined and plenty muscular.

He poured a glass of wine from the bottle on the table and slid it in front of her. “I have to say I was surprised to see Nesta Archeron on the maiden-stage here.”

Nesta blinked. She had not told the madam her name, nor announced it on stage, and she’d planned to give a fake name if her buyer asked. It was a small village, she supposed, but since they fell into poverty there were few people her family interacted with—Nesta especially. She felt too shameful about her station to show her face in town or speak to anyone besides Clare Beddor most of the time.

She had little shame left, she supposed.

Looking at the man again, there was something familiar about his lean face and his honey-gold hair that she couldn’t quite place, until he smiled.

“Mr. Beddor,” she said with cold surprise, realizing that his crinkled brown eyes were the spitting image of her friend Clare.

She had not seen much of Clare’s father before. He owned a stonemasonry company that maintained parts of the magical wall between the mortal lands and Prythian, where it was reinforced with stone. The company also built estates for lords throughout the mortal lands of their island, so he traveled often and was fairly well off. He had dozens of men who worked for his business, a big house full of servants, and a dead wife. That was how Nesta and Clare had become friends; their mothers caught the same sickness and died within months of each other, and the two girls and Elain had grown close in their loss. Clare had been the only friend of any means who continued to spend time with Nesta and speak to her as if she were still a human being. Nesta never felt shamed by her station around Clare, who was kind and a bit sheltered in a way that made Nesta think Clare did not quite understand that Nesta was poor now, even as her dresses grew faded and her body grew thin. Clare never even thought to offer Nesta or her sisters to join her family for dinner after their walks together through the village. Clare and Elain had much in common.

Clare’s father, however, had always seemed nice enough, if a bit absent. On the rare occasion when he was home, he always invited Nesta and her sisters for dinner when he saw them call on Clare. Nesta was always too proud to accept, but when Elain was there, she always accepted the offer with alacrity.

“I hope you don’t find this too strange, Nesta.”

“I imagine no more strange than for you, Mr. Beddor,” Nesta said, sipping her wine. She was afraid she would need it.

“On the contrary, I’m rather excited to see you here.” He placed a hand on her thigh where her pale flesh was exposed by the high slit in her dress.

Nesta arched one judging eyebrow. “Been fantasizing about me as I stroll around your gardens?”

“Perhaps.” The lines around his eyes crinkled once again in amusement, his mouth quirking to the side. His hand traced lazy circles higher and higher on her thigh. She didn’t hate the feeling. “If I had known you were … on the market, perhaps we could have avoided this place entirely.”

“Would I have fetched a higher price?” she asked, slightly amused now by the interest of this rich, mature man she had vaguely known for years.

“You might still, if this goes well and you would hear my proposition.” His hand moved higher, sliding the fabric above her most private parts. She had never been touched by another there before, other than Tomas’s clumsy pawing over her skirts, which she had always discouraged immediately. Certainly not on her bare skin. But his gentle touch, on a spot that felt so forbidden to expose in public, was shockingly titillating.

The crinkles around his eyes deepened as he watched her lips part in surprise and pleasure. “Have you truly not been with a man before, Nesta?”

She shook her head.

“You would sell your maidenhead? You didn’t want your first time to be for love?”

“Not when it’s worth two hundred silver,” she said honestly.

He gave her a devilish smile. “You are seduced by the power of money?” Her breath hitched as he gently pressed his thumb into a spot that felt amazing.

“What do you want with me, Mr. Beddor?” she asked breathlessly.

“Call me Willam.”

“What do you want with me, Willam?”

“To see the power you might hold over me.”

Oh, she liked the sound of that. She drained her wine and allowed her lips to stretch into the tiniest of smilies. “Lead the way.”

He withdrew his hand from under her gown and held it out to her as he led her to the velvet-curtained nook.

✦✦✦

Nesta was relieved that Willam drew the curtains as soon as she perched on the bed. The red velvet was heavy enough to block out some noise of the saloon and provide an illusion of privacy.

Willam stood at the edge of the bed, grasping the posts with his large, sun-browned hands. “Take off your dress,” he said, watching her intently.

She obeyed, though it made her feel vulnerable and exposed. She wasn’t sure if she would have preferred that he bend her over and pull up her skirts, as Tomas would have been sure to do. “You too, then,” she challenged, as if his nudity would make her feel more dignified.

It did, though he remained hidden from the waist down as he stood naked at the edge of the bed. He smirked at her command all the same.

“Do you ever touch yourself, Nesta? Give yourself pleasure?”

It had been a long time since she had, considering she shared a bed with her sisters, but she nodded, remembering how she once had her own room.

“Why don’t you show me what you like? Make yourself nice and ready for me.” His voice grew lower, almost a purr as he watched her gently stroke her fingers over her clit.

Gods, it had been so long since she felt so good, to enjoy the buzz of wine and the feeling of her own hand. And if she felt some inkling of humiliation for being paid so much money to get naked in front of this older man behind a curtain in a crowded room, it only seemed to heighten her arousal.

“Do you feel like you’re going to release?” he asked when her breath came faster and she began to squirm with pleasure.

“Oh, yes,” she said breathlessly, moving her hand faster and harder.

“Stop.”

Nesta opened her eyes with indignation, glaring at him as he climbed onto the bed, his heavy cock swinging from his chiseled abdomen, carved from decades of heaving stones alongside his men.

“I’m going to finish you off,” he said as he licked his lips, spread her legs, and lowered his head between them, “now that I’ve seen how you like it.”

She jumped in surprise when Willam pressed his wet lips to the bundle of nerves between her thighs, though she soon relaxed into the delicious sensation. He matched her fingers’ rhythm with the movement of his tongue, sucking and smacking his lips as if it were the meal of his life. She was almost disappointed she came so quickly, as she could have allowed him to feast on her for hours.

When she stilled from her release, he kissed her stomach, working his way up to her breasts, which he worshipped with his lips and tongue until her nipples could cut ice. She took in his scent, like rain on hot stone and leather, and ran her hands over the hard, smooth muscles of his back. She felt his breath hitch and his skin prickle with goose flesh in the wake of her touch. Pleased that she could elicit such a response in him, she let her hand drift to the bottom of his abdomen, where a trail of hair led from his muscled chest to his cock. His stomach muscles convulsed at her touch, and his cock throbbed when her fingers drew near the thatch of hair at its base.

He kissed her neck lightly as his hand drifted back between her thighs. “You’re dripping wet, Nesta. That’s the first lesson you should learn about sex: making sure you’re very, very pleased before you let a man enter you.” Willam pressed his finger against her entrance, teasing her, and she realized that the burn in her lower abdomen was an aching desire to be filled. “Would you say you’re very, very pleased yet?”

“No, I’m not.” Nesta shook her head slowly, easing out from underneath him. He rolled over to lay on his back as she straddled him and placed her hands on his chest. What pleased her was the idea of controlling this man, even as he had meant for his payment to control her. Taking courage from the wine and inspiration from how he had just teased her with his finger, she slid her wetness across his cock as she leaned forward so that her nipples tickled his chest. She looked at him assessingly as she asked, “What is truly pleasing me worth to you?”

“What do you want, dear girl?”

Nesta pressed herself up so he had a view of her full breasts, and she writhed on his cock, positioning the tip at her cunt. She let him nudge at the entrance just enough that he could feel her squeezing the muscles within, but not enough that he would split her yet.

“Another hundred,” she said boldly, taking a gamble on his desires, the hints he had given her thus far. It was an extravagant sum on top of what he had already paid to have her.

But she knew the Beddors were very, very wealthy.

“It’s yours,” Willam gasped, grabbing her hips and pulling to spear her with his cock. She cried out at the sharp, quick surprise of pain that soon blended into pleasure. Even as her core felt well pleased that it was finally filled, her mind raced: it was done, she would forever be branded a whore, she should have asked for more, they would not starve, her family would eat for months even if they hated her for it.

Nesta sat there stunned and unmoving for a moment, before testing the muscles in her core, flexing and appreciating the feel of his hot girth stretching her taut. He ran his hands over her body, tracing lines on her waist and circles around her breasts, encouraging her to set her thoughts aside and instead squirm and lean into his touch and discover the pleasure of moving with him inside her.

He groaned as she started to rock, and he let her set the pace, though he placed his hands on her hips to help thrust her up and down on his cock. She appreciated the help, as her near-starved body quickly grew tired.

When she discovered a spot that sent waves of pleasure from his cock through her core, she undulated her hips back and forth to catch that spot with each movement, and his hand slipped from her hips to her clit. The feeling of him both inside and out soon had her seeing stars.

Nesta couldn’t help it. She moaned. Loudly, like a harlot.

Willam grinned ferally when the sound escaped her lips. “Are you pleased now, Nesta?”

“Yes,” she moaned, writhing on his cock.

“Do you want to please me, too?”

“Yes,” she said, louder this time.

“Then come for me, sweetheart,” he purred, rubbing harder on her clit.

She instinctively ground harder into his touch, squeezed her walls around his cock, and found her release. She cried out as her muscles began to flex rhythmically, and he dug his fingers into her ass, holding her tight while she climaxed.

His cock quivered inside her, like Tomas’s had before his seed spilled, and it brought back her senses. Nesta quickly dismounted, situating herself between his legs to finish him in her mouth. She had not particularly enjoyed doing so with Tomas, but she thought perhaps it would be more pleasant with her in control. Besides, she had never taken a contraceptive before, and she’d seen at least a few women in the main room with bare, swollen bellies. It had been years since that bountiful summer when she’d last suffered her monthly cycle, but she could not risk a bastard. She’d live forever in shame, but couldn’t condemn a child to that, nor could they afford another mouth to feed.

“Do I please you, Willam?” she asked, running her tongue along his cock, salty and sweet with her own wetness. Nesta wantonly met his gaze as she pressed her lips to the tip of his cock, and he cried out when she took him in her mouth as far as she could stand. If she was to be anything in this world, even a harlot, she would at least be good at it. No, she would be great, she promised herself as she lapped at the underside of Willam’s cock and sucked, drawing out his gravelly moans. She wanted control of this man, from his throbbing cock to his purse strings.

“I said, do I please you, Willam?” she asked once again, lazily swirling her tongue around his tip.

“Gods, yes,” he said, and she once again sheathed him in her mouth and sucked greedily. He climaxed with a shudder and a loud groan. When his hot seed pumped into her mouth, she was steeled and ready for it this time. He tasted different from Tomas, saltier and less bitter perhaps, and she held him in her mouth and swallowed until he was spent.

Just like Tomas had taught her.

Afterward, she climbed up to lay next to him on her side, propped up on one elbow. “You are exquisite,” he said, his eyes roaming over her body. He traced his fingers along the curve of her hip, her breasts. “Would you hear my proposition now?”

She nodded, surprisingly relaxed between her release and the feeling of his light touch.

“You know I’m a widower, and my childrens’ dowries and fortunes are well-secured. But I’m lonely, Nesta. I’m not traveling for work anymore, lest I injure myself irreparably as I grow older, and I need something to fill my days. Someone. I’ve no interest in coming here night after night to find a different woman to warm my bed, nor do I have interest in a new wife who might control my childrens’ inheritance. At least, not until Clare is wed and Iain is ready to take over the business. But I do long for someone whom I could take care of, in exchange for her company.”

“You want me to be your mistress?” Nesta arched an eyebrow.

“Honestly, it was you who gave me the idea, a few years ago. Your family having lost their fortune, but you being so well brought-up and beautiful… I confess I dreamed of an arrangement, but I remember Clare saying how proud you were, that she would not even offer you her old clothes or dinner for fear that she would lose your friendship. So instead, when I returned home permanently this winter, I started coming here, hoping to find a girl I could envision in such an arrangement, but there was nobody until I saw you on the stage tonight.”

“What will Clare think?” Perhaps her friend wasn’t as oblivious as Nesta had thought.

“I’d prefer to keep this private, at least until Clare marries Lord Nolan’s son this summer. I think she would fault me less for an affair with her friend once she is running her own house.”

Nesta blinked. She hadn’t even known Clare was engaged. Had Clare kept it from her, to avoid hurting Nesta’s pride, knowing that she would never make such a match as with a nobleman’s son?

“What do you think?” he continued, watching her face closely. “You’ll have a stipend of fifty silver a week, all yours, no fees to the brothel, and I will shower you with gifts in exchange for your company. You would never have to come to this brothel or see your family go hungry again. But if you would prefer to hold out for an offer of marriage from a younger man, I would not be offended.”

Nesta smirked. “Younger men have no idea what they’re doing.” Nor would anyone want her as a bride, not after tonight. An arrangement as a rich man’s mistress was a better deal than she could have imagined. She would have money, freedom, and none of her mother’s plans for her—though her mother’s training would not go to waste. And if Willam’s desires remained anything like tonight, it would be work she could tolerate.

He smiled and brushed a stray hair that had fallen from her crown. “Then you’re all mine,” he said, and finally, he kissed her.

✦✦✦

Nesta left the tavern in her old threadbare dress once again, with two purses in her pocket: the purse of one hundred silver she had collected from the maidenhead auction after the madam’s cut, and the purse of one hundred that she had earned on her own merit. From the take of her maidenhead, she spent a few silver to purchase as much food as she could carry for her family to feast tonight. She was practically giddy on the snowy walk home, the silver jangling in her pocket and the prospect of a changed fortune warming her from within.

It was not particularly late when she returned home; she’d been gone maybe three hours, and it was not even eight o’clock, but it was full dark, and Elain and her father were still shivering by the fire. A glance at the wood pile indicated that they had not bothered to add another log, though they had piled on nearly every blanket in the house, and the fire was practically embers.

Nesta set the cloth bag full of bread and jars down on the table, then went to rebuild the fire. Elain jumped up at the smell of food, tearing into the bag and opening jars.

“Beef stew!” Elain cried. “With vegetables and butter and bread. Look, Papa!”

“And we’ll get you a cloak at the market tomorrow,” Nesta assured her.

Their father limped over to the table and sat down while Nesta turned from the fire and removed her boots and cloak by the door. His eyes slid from the feast on the table to Nesta’s boots.

“Feyre isn’t home yet?” Nesta asked while Elain poured the steaming stew into bowls.

“No, but I’m sure she’ll be back any minute. When she comes home this late, it usually means she has a deer slowing her down,” Elain said brightly, sliding a bowl to their father. He finally tore his eyes from the boots and began eating.

Neither of them asked where the food had come from, nor t did they ask about the heavy purse of silver that Nesta placed in the little lockbox where they kept the coin that they so rarely earned from selling Feyre’s hides or their old valuables. Not that they’d had valuables to sell for several years now.

Nesta kept the other purse in her pocket. That was hers, and hers alone.

Elain chattered as they ate, listing off all the new things they needed to buy with the silver once they replenished their food stores. New cloaks, boots, flowers, paints. Though she knew the coin would be spent too quickly, Nesta smiled and nodded, happy to see her middle sister lively and eating. More coin would come soon.

Their father said nothing.

The bowls were soon empty, and they were pouring seconds when the door opened with a burst of chill air and swirling snow. Feyre entered, covered in blood and grime, a deer wrapped in a bloody silver hide slung over her shoulders.

“I thought you were going to chop wood today, Nesta,” she grumbled as she entered the cottage. “The pile outside doesn’t even look like it was touched.”

Nesta looked up from her dinner, too proud to admit that she had tried and failed. “I hate chopping wood. And we don’t need it to cook tonight anyway.”

“Feyre!” Elain said. “Finally! You almost missed dinner.”

Feyre blinked, as if unable to comprehend the sight and smell of such a rich dinner on the table. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before finally asking, “Where did that come from?”

“Nesta traded her boots,” Elain explained proudly.

Feyre looked down at the boots lined up by the door, where Nesta’s too-small, still-shiny boots sat right in between Elain’s and their father’s.

“What are you talking about?” asked Feyre as she toed Nesta’s boots.

Nesta looked up from her bowl and met Feyre’s eyes, her chin high and spine as straight as steel. “The food is hot, so put that disgusting carcass down outside and come eat.”

Feyre shook her head slowly. “What did you sell? What baubles have you been hiding all this time?” she asked, fury rising in her voice.

“It’s the last night of the week,” their father said quietly.

The first day of each week was market day. They all knew there was no place to trade or sell goods on any day except market day. All the daily businesses that operated in town accepted only coin. And the Archerons had no coin.

And the last night of the week was always the busiest night for drinking and whoring.

“Shut up,” Nesta snapped.

Feyre dropped the deer to the floor and rushed to the lockbox that they kept by the stove. “There must be a hundred silver in here,” she said as she lifted the heavy purse. “What did you do?”

“There’s ninety-two silver. Enough to get us through winter if we’re smart about it. You could stop hunting.” Nesta eyed the blood and dirt that encrusted Feyre. “Go wash your hands before you eat. You’re filthy,”she snapped, dipping her bread in the stew.

Feyre blinked. “Oh, I’m filthy? Do you really still get to call me filthy when you’re out walking the damn streets?”

Elain’s mouth fell open in horror. Their father coughed uncomfortably, then shoved another spoonful of food in his mouth.

“Nesta that’s not true, is it?” Elain asked. “Because—”

“It is, and do you know what, I loved it! And I’ll do it again and again. And you,” Nesta said, her pride inexplicably wounded as she turned back to Feyre, “you’re just upset because now you can’t expect a husband to take me away so you can finally rid yourself of my burdensome presence.”

“I’m upset because after years of mocking me for getting my hands dirty to feed us, you finally dip your cunt into the muck and still act like you’re better than me!”

“At least I don’t have to resort to rutting Isaac Hale in the hay like an animal,” Nesta said. She knew it was cruel to say and she didn’t care. It had been just as cruel of Feyre to say what Nesta had done out loud. In front of everyone.

Their father made a choking noise and became intensely interested in the bottom of his bowl.

“No,” Feyre said. “Because it’s much more dignified to do it for coin.” She turned and took the deer outside, slamming the door behind her.

Elain’s doe eyes were wide with horror. “Is it true, Nesta? Did you—did Tomas—”

“Tomas couldn’t afford me if he tried,” she said coldly. “Leave it, Elain.”

“How could you shame us like this?” Elain cried, her eyes welling with tears. “It wasn’t even Tomas? He might have married you, but now … now you’ll never find a husband. Everyone will hear you’re a whore, and they’ll think I am too!” She slammed her spoon down on the table and fled to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

“Anything you want to add?” Nesta snapped at her father.

She hated that his gaze was soft on her, though he said nothing. He left his bowl half-full on the table when he limped to his cot and lay down facing away from her.

Hot tears springing to her eyes, Nesta put on her cloak and shoes, then poured a fresh helping of stew into a bowl and left the cottage. Feyre was cleaning and skinning the deer by the dim light emanating from the window.

Nesta set the bowl in front of Feyre. “You have to eat before you faint and end up freezing to death out here,” she said, then turned to walk away.

“Wait, Nesta!” Feyre cried. “Where are you going?”

She didn’t know. To throw stones at Willam Beddor’s window and see if he would take her in, even if she had to be locked in a room to stay secret from Clare until summer. Or back to the tavern, where she could take a room upstairs and work the downstairs for her keep.

“Stop, please.”

Nesta took a deep breath and turned. “What is it, Feyre? Do you want to tell me how shameful I am, too? How pissed you are that I let you hunt and never sold myself before now? You want to call me a burden and then order me to go chop wood, even if I’m too weak to raise the axe?”

“What—no! I don’t think it’s shameful. I—I just never thought you cared that much. About any of us.” Feyre stared at the steaming bowl in front of her, then drank deeply from it. “Who was it? There’s no way Tomas Mandray could afford ninety-two silver and all that food.”

“Tomas, and another,” Nesta said vaguely, unable to meet Feyre’s gaze.

“And you really liked it?” Her sister’s eyes, grey-blue like her own, glittered wickedly in the moonlight.

“Shut up, Feyre.”

“Please don’t leave.”

“Elain hates me.”

“She’ll get over it when she has a new cloak and doesn’t go hungry again in a week. And she’ll have no problem finding a husband soon enough,” Feyre said in between slurps of stew. “But she will hate you if you leave.”

Nesta sighed, and sank down into the snow next to Feyre. “I’m going to sit here until she’s asleep. Do not ask me to touch that disgusting carcass.”

#nesta would make a perfect fin dom i said what i said #remember when feyre was feisty and snarky #back before rhysand tamed all the fun out of her #nesta is canonically a big tiddy biddy #acotar smut #acotar fanfiction #nesta archeron #tomas mandray #nesta deserves better #nesta supremacy #nesta fanfic #ecilehwrites

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shadowdaddies · 20 days

Note

Your Nesta fic was so hot but imagine this: being in a quad with Az, Cass, and Nesta and Nesta punishing you in front of them 😫

I- this is so hot I need to get some fresh air

The Dilemma

Nesta x Reader x Azriel x Cassian

warnings: pure smut, oral f!receiving, edging, pussy spanking, bondage, use of strap-on, cockwarming, p in v sex

“You still don’t want to talk?” Nesta purred, her soft voice low and teasing, at odds with how tightly she bound the silk ties around your wrists.

Your entire body flushed with embarrassment and arousal at the position, completely bare as you knelt on the mattress facing where Cassian and Azriel were seated.

Nesta’s nails raked up your sides, pulling your back to her chest as she pinched your nipples harshly, twisting and pulling. “I know it was one of them who decided to use you to tease me. I smell both of them on you.”

A hand slid down your front, palm flat as she inched closer to your throbbing core. She paused, hand hovering over where you needed her most. Soft lips brushed the shell of your ear, tongue flicking out before whispering her taunt.

“You know you deserve to be punished. Sending your pleasure down the bond like that, making it impossible for me to focus on training,” she growled the last words, unable to control her own frustrations. “But if you tell me whose idea it was, I’ll lessen your punishment.”

Cassian and Azriel sat straight in their chairs, both still naked from your earlier actions. Like you, they knew better than to push Nesta any further, lest they worsen their own punishments.

A harsh slap to your pussy sent a jolt through you, a small yelp escaping your lips at the sting of Nesta’s hand. You were really in for it tonight, but you forced your gaze toward the ceiling to avoid giving away who had started all of this. Azriel.

He’d come home from mission, eager to touch you despite Nesta telling you and Cassian to wait for her to join you. As much as you tried to wait, you burned for Azriel’s touch, his hazel eyes glowing with desire impossible to resist.

Both you and Cassian knew that whatever Nesta might do to punish you, was nothing compared to what the shadowsinger would have in store if you ratted him out.

And now, you lay bare and bound before all of them, arousal dripping onto the sheets as Nesta made a display of your humiliation. “I guess you will get all of my attention then... As you so desperately craved.”

A delicate hand wound around your hair, eliciting a whimper from you as the valkyrie yanked your head back, forcing your back to arch, neck exposed.

“Please, Nes. I’m sorry. It was me,” you breathed, tears already welling behind your eyes from the pure need to have her hands on you.

She laughed softly behind you, the sound devoid of humor as she ran a hand along your inner thighs, feather-light touch leaving you careening against her hold.

“We both know it wasn’t you pet,” she murmured, teeth grazing your throat. Without warning, she plunged two fingers into your heat, curling and twisting while her thumb swiped at your clit.

Pathetic moans left you, the scent of arousal growing heady in the room as a groan escaped Cassian. Brow furrowed, your jaw hung open in ecstasy as the coil wound tighter.

Pussy clenching around Nesta’s fingers, you mumbled a warning that you were close - only for her to pull her hand away. You’d hardly registered the shock when Nesta stuffed her hand into your mouth, long fingers wet with your own slick.

“Suck,” she ordered, the hand holding your hair pushing you forward to take her further into your mouth. A whine escaped you, eyes squeezing shut as you fought the instinct to look at either of the males in front of you.

“Good pet,” Nesta cooed as you sucked her digits eagerly, her own silver eyes not focused on you at all, but Azriel’s shadows that oscillated with need and irritation.

Slipping her fingers from your mouth, Nesta’s hands moved to your hips, quickly flipping you onto your back, hands awkwardly bound beneath you.

“Azriel, you may lend some shadows,” Nesta purred with a wicked smile, golden brown hair falling out of her braid as she lowered herself over your puffy clit. Tongue flicked out just as shadows began twining over your body, soft touches driving you mad with need.

“More, please,” you begged, tears falling down as Azriel’s shadows worked in tandem with Nesta’s tongue, all of them lapping lazily at your most sensitive parts as you were held on the edge of orgasm.

“You know what to do if you want this to stop,” she crooned, tongue prodding at your entrance to emphasize her power over you.

“I- I can’t,” you sobbed, eyes rolling back as cool shadows pinched your nipples. You felt Nesta’s presence pull away before another smack landed against your pussy.

“Fine, then.” Once again, you were flipped around like a doll, this time your ass in the air, face awkwardly pressed to the sheets as you were forced to look at where Cassian and Azriel sat. Their cocks were painfully hard and leaking, both males’ wings practically twitching as they struggled to stay put.

The sound of a drawer opening and closing sounded from behind you, pussy clenching around nothing in reaction when you realized what was coming.

Nesta’s strap snapped onto her hips, her cock sliding lazily up and down your abused pussy. Rocking against her, you silently pleaded for her to take you. Hard or soft, fast or slow - you didn’t care anymore.

With one swift thrust, Nesta’s cock was fully inside of you, stretching your walls with a painful pleasure. Hands gripped your waist firmly, her hips snapping against yours at a brutal pace like never before.

A hand landed harshly on your ass, the sting eliciting a scream from your lips as your legs shook beneath you. “Come on, love. Tell me whose idea it was, and I’ll let you cum,” Nesta cooed, unrelenting in her pace.

You couldn’t stop yourself, eyes flicking to Azriel’s in a desperate attempt for mercy, a bargain, anything. Immediately, Nesta stilled behind you, and as Azriel’s gaze flicked to hers, you knew that you’d given him away.

“I knew it,” Nesta scoffed, pulling out of you before releasing your binds. Azriel thrummed with anger, eyes darting to yours in silent promise that confirmed what you already knew: you were now in for a much worse punishment.

“Get up,” Nesta commanded, voice breezy and calm as she smacked your ass. You fumbled to stand, holding onto the edge of the mattress for support as your legs failed to hold you up.

“I- I didn’t...” you fumbled for words, searching Nesta with pleading eyes.

Cruel amusement shone in her silver gaze, which never left yours as she crooked a finger, beckoning Cassian to her. “Cassian, on the bed,” she ordered. “And you,” she growled, “on Azriel’s cock.”

“Do not move,” Nesta directed at Azriel and you, and you understood what she meant. You lowered yourself to Azriel’s cock, his hands holding you firmly on his hips as he filled you so deeply.

“Now you’ll watch Cassian fuck me, while I think about what to do about the both of you,” the valkyrie purred, lowering to her knees and elbows just how you’d been minutes prior while Cassian lined up behind her.

“I hope you know how much trouble you’re in,” Azriel breathed, his gravelly voice sending a chill down your spine.

You watched Nesta’s face, pure bliss at the feeling of Cassian inside of her and you clenched around Azriel’s cock. No words came from the shadowsinger, but his grip tightened on your hips as shadows began to twine up your legs.

Heart thundering in your chest, you whined as you made eye contact with Nesta on the bed, bracing yourself for the long night ahead of you.

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sarawritestories · 1 month

Text

Unwavering Presence Chapter 9

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Cassian notices that Y/N skipped training after their night at Rita's. The group heads to the human realms and Y/N reunites with old friends...

Content Warning: Familial trauma/drama, degradation (Consensual), power imbalance, slight fat shaming, so much angst, mentions of death, Nesta being absolutely cruel. Foot stuff (Its quick I promise).

Word Count 4.5k

A/N: The sneak peak I put up for this chapter got cut and is getting moved to chapter 10 because I decided to end this chapter very differently.

Unwavering Masterlist Chapter 8 ACOTAR Masterlist

Feyre and Rhys left early the next day and I didn’t feel the need to get up for training. I laid in my bed reading my book when there was a knock on my door, “Come in.”

The door creaking open, and Cassian walked in, I glance up to see him in his leathers, “Your sister left with Rhys to go see the weaver.” He leaned against the door frame, and I made an effort to not watch his biceps contort in his uniform. He smirked and flexed his arm, and I rolled my eyes.

My gaze fell back over my book, and I flipped the page, “You know I don’t know the significance of that. I’m sure Rhys or Feyre will tell me what they’re up to. Why are you here?” I hadn’t meant for there to be a bite in my voice.

“You didn’t come to training.” His tone was soft, and I fought my instinct to look up at him, “I wanted to make sure you were, okay?”

The sound of the page turning was the only noise in my room for a moment, I sighed and closed my book, “Yesterday was a lot.” I looked at him and shrugged, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Cassian remained silent, he moved to my armoire and my gaze shifted below to and took out my leathers and plopped them on the end of my bed. “Get dressed.”

“Cassian, I’m not in the mood.”

Cassian crossed his arms, “Tough.” The voice of a general talking to his subordinate, “We’re not training, we’re sparring. I expect you downstairs in five minutes.”

I crossed my arms, “What if I don’t come down?”

Cassian walked to the door, he turned back to me with a smirk, “I wouldn’t recommend it, you may not like what happens if you don’t.” He walked away, closing the door behind him. I glared at the door hoping the look seared into his back. I kicked the leathers of the bed and let myself lay back and let sleep consume me.

Cold water collided with my face shocking me up and out of my bed. Cassian stood in front of me with a bucket in his hand a cocky smile on his lips. The cold began to seep into my bones I had to clamp my teeth down to keep from chattering, “What was that for?”

Cassian bent down to pick up the leathers and pressed them into my chest focusing on my eyes and not the fact that my nipples had hardened from the cold and peeking out through my silk nightgown, “I gave you 10 minutes to come down, that was five extra minutes, and you still didn’t come down.”

I bared my teeth at him, and he only chuckled as if he wasn’t threatened by me, this male had seen the worst of humanity, went toe to toe with those people, I bet I barely posed as a threat to him. “I told you I don’t want to train.”

Cassian leaned down to my eye level the smile still lingering and his eyes gleamed with a challenge, “And I told you we’re not training, we’re sparring.” He rose back to his full height as his face softened. “Look, sometimes words don’t help, but you have energy and pent-up things you need to get out. Lucky for you I know someone who can take that on.”

I sighed, annoyed that he was right. I felt the water dripping from my hair and an idea formed in my head, I gave him a saccharine smile, “Alright, Cassie,” I purred as he tilted his head no doubt, confused by the nickname. I’ll give it a chance,” I took a step closer to him, and I could see his neck work as he swallowed. “I am going to need to dry off first.” I shake my head, letting the loose drops of water fly, spraying him in the process.

Cassian took a step back, laughing as the water landed on his skin and his leathers. Once I stopped, I grinned at him satisfied with my work, the hurt of his rejection the night before fading away. “Your trouble, Princess, you know that?” His voice was warm and made the butterflies in my stomach flutter.

Trying to ease those flutters, I shrugged, feigning calm and collected, “I’ll list it right under bad listener.” He laughed again and the sound was so joyous that a part of me would kill anyone who tried to take his joy away. I pressed my hand on his chest and could feel his heartbeat speed up. “Go on, General, I’ll be down in a minute.”

“I’ll have another bucket ready just in case.” He winked and walked out once more, leaving me to change.

I met him in the backyard of the town house Cassian’s back was to me his wings relaxed the leather pants covering his ass perfectly. “I can feel you staring.” Cassian’s voice made me jump. He turned to her with a knowing look on her face, “Enjoying the view.”

I crossed my arms and pooped a hip out, “I see an asshole, who threw water on me to get out of bed, I’m not sure if enjoying the view is what I would call it.”

Cassian raised his hand and motioned two fingers, “Come here, Princess.”

I took a step toward him, my neck straining as I had to look up to him. He opened his palms out a silent command. I placed my hands in his and he led me over to the seat. Taking out some white wrappings and he began wrapping one of my hands. I stared at his face and how there is a wrinkle that peaks through when he concentrates. His lips form in a tight line as he ties off my one hand and begins the other. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, though you did just ask me a question.” He looks up at me through his lashes.

I laughed, “I suppose I did.”

His smile remained on his face, finishing up wrapping my hand. “What’s your question?”

“Did you always want to be a general?” I looked down and noticed that he was still holding my hand.

The little wrinkle returns as he thinks about the question. “No. I didn’t. I didn’t plan to be living the life I do now. When I was a child, I tried to make sure I survived the next day. I never allowed myself to dream of anything more. Not even when Rhys found me in my ratty tent.”

His eyes grew distant, and I pressed my hands against his cheek, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have pried.” His eyes met mine and that distant look disappeared as he twisted his head and lightly pressed his lips to the palm of my hand and my breath hitched.

“Don’t apologize, Princess. We can talk about my childhood at a later time. We’re focusing on you now.” He led me to the mat he had set up. He placed padded mittens on his hands. “Now remember what I taught you and just hit my pads as hard as you can.”

I held up my fist the way he showed me I didn’t move to throw a punch. “What if I hurt you?”

“I’ll live, Sweetheart. I’m not easily breakable.”

I glared, “And I am?”

“Did I say that? No. Now come on.” His voice was firm but still gentle. I threw the first punch, “Good again!” I punched the other hand. He keeps praising me and encourages me to go harder. “Now tell me what’s bothering you.”

Continuing my punches, the words tumbled out “I’m anxious about going back to the human realm and seeing my sisters. I’m terrified about this impending war.” The words kept pouring out, “I feel like I don’t belong anywhere. I’m terrified that when Feyre outlives me, she’s going to forget about me. That everyone here will forget me when I die.” I dropped my fists.

“Sweetheart,” Cassian started reaching out to me and I stepped out of reach. His face fell slightly.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered and before I could run to my room, Rhys and Feyre winnowed to the backyard and Feyre looked ready to throttle Rhysand as she walked inside. Refusing to meet Cassian’s gaze, I followed after Feyre.

I walked into her room, and she was flinging various objects around her room. “Feyre? What happened?”

My twin paused and looked at me, “He almost had me killed. The weaver almost killed me. For a stupid ring!”

I felt the familiar scrape against my shield. I let him in. You almost killed my sister for a ring?

That’s a bit dramatic. The ring was an object to test if the sentiment of like calls to like. The ring is also very sentimental to me.

In what way?

It was my mother’s.

Before I could say anything to him, he left my mind and I put my shield back up. “He is insufferable. How do you enjoy his company? He looked smug when I met him out like he was surprised I survive.”

“He is kind, Fey. Also did he look smug or was he proud because not only did you get the ring, but you also got out using the skills that him and Cassian have been teaching you.” I paused, “Also, despite what you believe he is lovely to stare at.” I give her a wink.

She paused and sat on the bed with an exasperated sigh, and I took a moment to look at my sister. Feyre has gained some of the weight back that she lost after we came back from Under the Mountain. She had been sleeping the dark circles that had stained under her eyes were gone. She was finally healing. I smiled happy that life was coming back into those eyes. “I guess he is quite beautiful. Don’t tell him I said it though. He would never let me live it down,” She smiled.

I snorted and then sadness overtook me at my confession to Cassian. One day she will be walking this world alone, when my mortality takes me to whatever comes after death. Would she miss me? Would she find happiness here and be able to simply move on. Our relationship was not perfect but when her neck snapped, I wasn’t sure I was going survive this life without her. Hopefully, Cassian, Azriel and Rhys will take care of her and make sure she lives when I’m gone.

Feyre slammed me into her chest. “Stop that.” Her face was wet with tears. “Just stop. My life would be nothing without you.”

I blinked and hugged her back, “What?” Had I said those things outside?

She pulled away quickly, “Nothing.” She wiped her tears. I sighed, “So you were fighting with Cassian?”

I nodded, “Yeah.”

“You spend a lot of time with him?”

Another nod, “Yup.”

Feyre raises an eyebrow, “I assume you enjoy his company?”

I laughed, “Feyre, just ask what you want to ask.”

“What’s going on between you two, her eyes went doe eyed with curiosity that it reminded me of Elain.

“We’re friends, he helps me train and we hang out sometimes. Is that why he almost kissed you last night?”

“How?” I asked I thought about who would tell her Azriel wouldn’t have said anything.”

“Mor.” we said in unison. We made eye contact and began laughing.

“I don’t know Fey, he seemed relieved that Mor stepped in. As if he was going to make a grave mistake. Though I enjoy his company, talking with him is easy.”

Feyre nods, “And quite handsome.”

I began to think about his warm hazel eyes and his morning stubble or his raven hair. “Handsome doesn’t begin to cover it.” I look over to Feyre and there is a gleam in her eye and a smirk playing on her lips. “What?”

“You got it bad.” I threw the closest pillow at her, and she caught with, with a cackle. The laughter fades and Feyre leaned her head on the headboard. “Rhys says we’re going to the human realm tomorrow. You, me, Rhys, Cassian and Azriel.”

Dread hit me. The idea of seeing Nesta and Elain made my skin crawl. “It’s going to be a shit show.”

Feyre’s face grimaced as she nodded. “Indeed.”

***

The next day the five of us approached the edge of the forest and the manor my sisters were staying in was in view. Rhys is the first to speak, “I’ll put the glamour on us until you give us the okay to come in.” Feyre nodded, dressed in a fine black chiffon dress with silver lining the dress. I opted for A Black satin gown off the shoulder gown, A blood red belt wrapped around the waist with a bow on the back -compliments to Rhysand- kohl lined my eyes and there was a sheen to my lips.

A hand wrapped around mind the red siphon gleaming from the sun peaking through the trees. “You’re nervous.” It wasn’t a question.

“What makes you say that?” I questioned.

“You’ve been wringing your hands and tearing at your nails since we crossed the border. You were fidgeting in my arms the whole flight here.” He gave my hand a comforting squeeze. “A lot has happened since you last seen them it’s okay to feel these feelings.”

“Thanks, Cassian.” I smiled up at him and with the illumination of the sun behind him he looked like a deity.

He smiled back a full grin this time and kissed the top of my hand. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?”

My hear rate sped up and heat crawled to my cheeks. “I don’t think so.”

He smiles, “You look absolutely radiant, Princess.” He looked over to Feyre, “Now go, I’ll be right here should you need me.”

I nodded and I looked at Az and Rhys, Az gave a nod like he understood the challenges of visiting family, and Rhys gave a wink. I walked to Feyre, and we reached the front door, and I took a deep breath and felt the nice breeze and I could have sworn the scent of leather and sandalwood wafted through my nostrils and calmed me.

A maid had opened the door and her mouth fell, “The Archeron Twins,” She murmured in shock. She stepped out of the way for us to walk in. “Please follow me. Your sisters will be so pleased to see you.”

She walked us into a sitting room, Nesta sat on a lounge sofa reading a book, Her gray dress accentuated her curves, her face had a regal grace. Elain was in a chair working on some embroidery, in a pink tulle gown and her hair pinned halfway up with some flowers from her garden, no doubt. “Ladies, your sisters have come home.” The maid announced bowing and walking away from the foyer.

Our sisters’ heads snapped up. Nesta had a cool calculating stare assessing our attire and Elain’s face lit up with joy. She rose and ran, closing the space between us and pulling us both in her arms and I’m stunned by how tightly she hugged us. “Welcome!” She withdrew from the embrace and gripped out hands and Elain took note of the tattoos on our collar bones and the one on Feyre’s arm. “Those are beautiful.”

I smiled, Elain was always kind and always found beauty in everything. Her scent of wildflowers causes my eyes to water. “It’s good to see you, Elain.” Nesta rose and my eyes darted toward her, preparing myself for her to pounce if need be. She stuck her nose up as she approached every bit of the queen, she deemed she should be.

“I’m surprise you’re here.” Nesta said her standard Icy tone. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “I’m surprise you’re both alive.”

Feyre nodded, “We have a lot to tell you.”

Nesta held down a glare, “So speak.”

I was about to combat her command, but Feyre was the one to speak and she told them everything. Under the mountain, Tamlin sending me to my death, how he locked her up in the house, how we both ended up in the Night Court and all the details we know of the upcoming war.

“Why are you here?” Nesta asked not cutting corners and if she felt anyway of Feyre and I facing death she didn’t show it.

“We need you to open the manor to our friends. High Fae. They would like to have a meeting here with the Human Queens. However, they are stubborn gentlemen, who would like to ask you themselves and of course meet you and thank you for even consideration.” I said straightening my posture preparing myself for the verbal lashing.

“No.” Nesta said firmly not even looking at me. Here we go.

“What?”

“Elain gets married in a month to the Lord’s son. I will not risk this wedding for your silly war.”

“We should help.” Elain spoke up and we all turned to look at her. “Nesta, if the wall comes down, there may not be a wedding.”

I smiled to Elain as Nesta mumbled, “Fine, we’ll send the servants out for the next two days.”

I leaned closer to Elain, “Who’s the lucky guy?”

Elain smiled and showed her ring and Feyre, and I noticed the Iron ring adorned her finger, “His name is Graysen.”

I took a sharp breath, “Lord Graysenn?” I asked and Elain nodded enthusiastically and began going into the details of the wedding.

“Look at our good little maid, Xavier.” Graysen’s voice chuckled as I was on my knees the black dress uniforms his family required for me rising, my tongue grazing against the leather of his boot. Bits of mud and gravel getting into my mouth. “She is working so hard for her family.” He shoves his boot farther into my mouth and I begin to suck as he chuckled. “So hard, tell me what your siblings would say if they found out that you were drooling all over yourself just to make sure food was on the table.”

Muffled noises came from my mouth as drool dripped down to my cleavage that my uniform exposed.

Xavier petted my hair, “So good, maybe if she’s really good, I’ll give her those kisses she craves.” An involuntary moan came out of me, “Oh she likes that idea.” He chuckled. Hands were around my waist pulling me back, as Graysen pulled the boot from my mouth, and had me leaning against his firm chest, “Go ahead and swallow for us, pretty girl.” I did what I was told, and Xavier sang praises in my ear. “How lucky that you got this new maid, Graysen.” I looked at the man’s sharp blue eyes, his blonde hair pulled back in a bun. His thumb grazed my hip in swiping motions. Having been together for a few months his beauty and sharp features

Graysen smirked, “Yes indeed,” Graysen lifted my chin, “Do you like working for me Y/N?”

I nod, “I appreciate you offering me work.”

“Anything for my best friend’s girl.” He patted my cheek. “You can go home, after the rest of my boots get a spit shine.”

“Yes, my lord.” I smiled as Xavier’s hands wandered up my thigh, his teeth nibbling the shell of my ear.

“Xavier, please don’t distract her like you did last week. I had to doc her some of her pay.” Xavier gave him a nod and with that the lord’s son left.

Xavier waisted no time leaving kisses up and down my neck, “Xavier, I need to get this work done.”

“Later,” He growled and kissed me passionately. I moaned into his mouth and his tongue slipped in his hand groping my clothed breast. “You are delicious,” He moves to my jaw and my ear, “I’m really glad I met you.”

I smiled, “Me too, Bab-“he silenced me with a growl and a searing kiss.

“Y/N,” I shook the memory from my head to face my twin concern schooling her features, “Where did you go?”

I shook my head burying the memory farther down. “Nowhere at all.” I smiled but Nesta looked at me, her head tilted as if she could sniff out my lie.

***

The servants were gone, and all three Illyrian warriors sucked up all the air in the room. When they entered, I naturally gravitated toward the General. And what has become a habit is his wing curved around me slightly. Nesta stared at us in silence, no detail going unnoticed about her new guests.

“Nesta, we can’t thank you enough, for your hospitality.” Rhysand bows and Nesta lifts her chin. “We come here to ask for a favor.”

“You want to have me host a meeting here with the human queens. My sisters did fill me in.” Nesta’s response was short. I glanced over at Elain and noticed that she was entranced with Azriel and his wings.

Rhys, Feyre and Nesta continued with their conversation when I felt a nudge. I looked over to Cassian and he had an Orange in his hand and a slice held out for me chewing a slice of his own. I grab the slice and take a bite letting the citrus flavor consume me. He plops another slice in his mouth and picks a slice for me and he continued to do that until the fruit was gone. He threw the peels away and when he returned, he whispered in my ear, “The key to withstanding long meetings is bringing food.”

I stood on my tippy toes and whispered back, “Makes sense especially if each person in the room likes to hear themselves talk.”

He chuckled lowly, “I hope you never have to go to a High Lord’s meeting it’s a room full of people who like to hear themselves talk.”

“Sounds miserable.”

Cassian grinned, “Absolutely insufferable.”

I hadn’t even notice that Elain had left but her voice boomed, “Dinner is ready.”

***

Dinner had been tense. I was tucked between Rhys and Cassian, Feyre sat across from me. The males ate in silence and Elain was asking Azriel questions that he was kind enough to answer about his shadows. Eating my meal, I looked over to notice Feyre made a face as she bit into the food.

“Is our food not good enough for you now?” Nesta questioned with an accusatory look as if Feyre thought little of her. I groaned feeling the pain pulsing in my head.

“Just different than what we have back in Prythian.” Feyre muttered looking down at her plate.

Nesta turned a pointed look to me, “What about you? Is the food still good to you since you’re not them?”

“Can we not do this please.” I pleaded, “We haven’t seen either of you in a year. Please I’m begging. Drop it.”

Elain sat quietly, focusing on her own food, and Nesta clearly decided she wanted to lash out. “I will not. You come here, jeopardize our social standing here, and you two suddenly want to act better than us. I can tell you must enjoy the food, considering you're bigger than I saw you last. And even coming here in matching colors with this rabid beast, it's beneath you, really.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes, nothing new. Nesta was always the first to criticize my weight. She had been doing that for years. A hand gripped my knee and gave it a squeeze, I didn’t need to look to know it was Cassian.

“What are you looking at?” Nesta sneered her gaze meeting Cassian.

“A wicked, vile, woman, who would let her two baby sisters go out in the forest alone to help provide for the family. While she sat and did nothing. Feyre and Y/N were willing to lay down their life to save and protect my people. Both are willing to do it again, so you don’t have to go to war. So, excuse me if I’m not pleased that you are choosing to insult these two remarkable females in my presence. As for Y/N being in my colors. I haven’t made a claim against her. I didn’t even know she was going to wear it though the colors suit her beautifully. Also, there is nothing wrong with gaining weight and muscle, the more of her to love, the better.”

Nesta rose and crossed her arms, “You’re a fool. Do you know that? Aligning yourself with Feyre is one thing. She has excellent survival skills and those could be useful, but Y/N? Death follows her everywhere she goes. She killed our mother.” She gave me a pointed look and it felt like my lungs were going to give out. I couldn’t even feel Cassian’s grip tighten. “She killed a debt collector attacking our useless father. If you three are wise, you would leave her here in the human realm before she becomes your doom. And if you don’t than I wonder why the humans ever feared the fae in the first place.” She turns to me, and tears threaten to come down. “I wish it was you that died that day. Not mother.”

Elain and Feyre rose up from their seats, “NESTA,” they said in unison. My legs were not moving at my command as I jolted from my chair and ran out of the dining hall and out of the manor entirely, ignoring my name being called out.

My feet were moving of their own accord, ignoring the cold bite of the evening as I pushed hard and kept moving. Once I finally stopped and took a breath I looked up and found myself in our old cabin. The wood splintered from when Tamlin barged in, the chipped paint of Feyre’s work. The smell brought back memories of late nights, stiff necks, and pain. The depths I went to just to make sure we had some money on the days Feyre couldn’t catch game.

I walked into our bedroom, the dresser calling out like a beacon. I sat in front of it and took in my sister’s work, flowers for Elain, Flames for Nesta and Feyre and I shared the third dresser which was painted with a night sky and a cabin with a shadow by the window. Nothing indicating where I belonged.

I wished you died instead of her. The emotions of the day took hold and deafening sobs unleashed from my body as I covered my face in my hands. Wondering what I ever did to cause Nesta that much pain. My sobs were so loud I didn’t hear the door creak open, but I heard footsteps. “Please go away, I don’t want to talk.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” My spine sat up straight at the familiar voice, “I so desperately want to talk to you, Baby.” I turned to find Xavier in the doorway. His hair cropped short, his white uniform pristine and four gashes scarred above and below his cold blue eyes. My breathing was coming in short rapid, spurts.

Another set of footsteps followed, and a hooded figure walked in. Lowering his hood the moonlight revealed another familiar face, Elain’s now fiancé, Graysen, his smile sinister, “Hello, Y/N.”

Chapter 10

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieloo @tuggboatfishin @judig92 @atrxidxs @dustyinkpages @secretlyhers @mxblobby @blogforficslol @historygeekqueen @turtleshavesoulmates @scooobies @anuttellaa @earth-to-lottie @slytherintaco @fxckmiup @tinystarfishgalaxy @cheesebookgirl @oucereeng @st0rmyt @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @misslunatic1655 @azrielsmate3 @nebarious @tele86 @chelsiemp @fightmedraco @blackgirlmagicforever @fullmoon-94 @thehighlordishere @jenniferpendragon @ray4hotchner @phoenix666stuff

#cassian x reader #cassian acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #cassian x you #cassian imagine #cassian fanfic #cassian #nesta x cassian #cassian fluff #cassian angst

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berryzxx · 2 months

Text

Better than cupcakes

Azriel x reader

Summary: Azriel is your mate and you don't know it. Your also a baker which makes things more complicated. Not to mention Eris liking you as well. Will you realise Azriel likes you just as much as you do him?

I also really want cupcakes rn. Ignore any mistakes or feel free to tell me. ily all. MWUAH💕 i just want azriel. why can't he be real

I piped another cupcake, the dark purple icing coming out perfectly. I put it to the side and before I could start on another one Cassian walked in a big smile on his face. I didn't hear the bell because of how concentrated I was on trying to get these almost perfect, otherwise I would have locked the door before he could have come in. "It smells delicious in here. Any failed testers you want me to finish?"

He came up to the counter and sat down on a stool eyeing up my creations "I was wondering when the garbage disposal would arrive" I muttered before pointing to a tray to the side where a few uneven and ugly looking cupcakes sat. He merely grinned back and reached for one, taking a bite.

"Just as good as I expected" He said rolling his eyes dramatically. I smiled and nodded my head "I know...but you say that to everything. I need someone proper to test them"

Cassian frowned, tucking in his wings and reached for another cupcake to demolish "You should take my opinions seriously you know. I'm actually a professional chef at home"

I raised an eyebrow "Making tea for Nesta once in a while doesn't count" His smile dropped and he went into some sort of deep thinking.

"Azriel's waiting outside. Should I get him to try some?"

I nodded "Why's he waiting outside? Tell him to come in" Cassian nodded his head, taking another cupcake on his way out. I iced a few more before he came grumbling back.

"He won't come in. Says he needs to leave and doesn't have time for cupcakes"

I frowned "He'll have time for cupcakes if i tell him to! Where is he?" I put down the icing bag and grabbed a cupcake. Cassian pointed to the door "Just outside the door"

Before I left I narrowed my eyes "Don't think I haven't counted how many there are"

He gave me a mischievous grin before I walked out the café and found Azriel securing his daggers in place. A sign he was about to set off into the sky.

"Azriel!" I shouted, quickly walking and slightly skipping over to him. He turned around his hand covering his eyes so he could block the sun, shading his eyes.

"Yes?"

I lifted up my cupcake and smiled "I made cupcakes and I need someone to try them"

He raised an eyebrow "Wasn't Cassian in there just a few moments ago?"

I sighed "Yes but he's Cassian. He eats anything. I need someone who'll give me proper feedback"

Azriel thought about it, his eyes raking over my hopeful expression. "Fine" He muttered, taking the cupcake. He nodded toward something behind me "What's that?" I turned around and found nothing of interest.

"What's what?" I asked turning back round. He shook his head "Nothing" He muttered, chewing slowly before swallowing.

"How was it? Too sweet? I think you had too much icing in that bite, maybe try some more?" I asked, waiting for him to say something. Anything.

"It's....interesting" He finally said. My smile dropped "Really? Was it that bad? What should I change? I knew it was too sweet. Or was it something else?"

Azriel shook his head slowly "It was one of the worst things I've had in a while"

My slight despair turned into shock.

My mouth dropped open "WHAT? Are you being serious right now? You don't even know the basics for cooking don't come to me with the bullshit of it being the worst thing you've ever had, honestly-"

His hand covered my mouth before I could carry on anymore. The warm press of his hand on my lips making me stop immediately. His lips were turned up into a small smile "You wanted the feedback y/n. Can't take it anymore?"

I crossed my arms and waited for him to let me speak. He didn't, merely moving closer to me and looking down at me with those warm hazel eyes. I opened my mouth and bit into his hand so he'd move away which surprisingly he did. I smiled with triumph until I remembered what he had previously said.

I narrowed my eyes "You aren't trying any more of my treats again"

"Whatever will I do?" He replied sarcastically, a small smirk on his gorgeous face. I clenched my teeth together, lost for words and wanting to wipe the smirk off his face.

"Go away" I finally mustered. I cringed internally, that was the worst thing I could have thought of. He looked at me instead of replying, his hazel eyes glowing amber in the sun light.

"Do you really think I was being serious?" He finally said, moving closer to me so there was only an inch's space between us. I crossed my arms waiting for another sarcastic comment or for him to joke but he didn't.

"Yes?" I replied, unsure of the answer myself.

He let out a sigh and shook his head "Really, y/n. Your cooking is just as gorgeous as you. The cupcake was delicious"

I wish I had a more sensible response but when was I ever known for my maturity?

"Really?" I was grinning and trying to ignore the part where had called me gorgeous otherwise I would be in deep shit.

He nodded his head, a small smile on his face too. Gods he was so pretty. And his lips...I shook my thoughts away and gave him a quick hug. He smelt like wind and smoke and deliciousness. And honestly? I wanted to keep hugging him forever. But that wasn't possible.

I stepped out his embrace "Thanks for the feedback Az. I should get going"

Azriel nodded his head "...you should" He looked at me with such an intense gaze that I just wanted to melt into the ground, not to mention the sun beating down on us making me even hotter. He finally turned away and winnowed into the darkness so I could no longer see him. If I hadn't been such a dumbass and blindly in love I would have known he hadn't tried the cupcake at all.

I placed the last tray on the table and looked at my creations.

"They look absolutely divine" Feyre said coming over to look at the cupcakes. I had iced them with dark purple icing and sprinkled small stars on top. I felt like they matched the star fall theme perfectly.

"Thank you. I probably would have more if Cassian didn't keep eating them" I said, looking over at him. He was holding out his hand and convincing Nesta to dance with him. I assumed she wanted to save her feet because we all knew when Cassian was even the slightest bit drunk he was a hazard to be next to.

"Y/n? I think someone wants your attention" Rhys said making his way over to me and Feyre. I raised an eyebrow, wondering what he was talking about. He dipped his chin, gesturing behind me and I saw Eris, a glass of wine in his hand and talking to Lucien.

"So he decided to show up?" I asked. He had been invited for the past few years or so after having built stronger ties with the night court and his younger brother but I had never seen him actually accept.

"He decided to show up so he could see you" Feyre replied, giving me a small wink. I let out a sigh. I hoped she was joking. I liked Eris. I really did. But as a friend. Someone I could laugh with and spend time with. I was hoping Feyre was wrong but whenever she played love match, she was always right.

I made my way over to Eris who raised his glass "Finally made your way over here?" He asked.

I shrugged "Your bright red hair is hard to find in a crowd like this" I teased. His smile grew slightly "Your looking radiant today. The dress suits you"

I accepted the compliment "Thank you. You don't look too bad yourself"

He rolled his eyes "I never look bad. That's not a word in my dictionary"

I let out a laugh at his dramatics. "We should plan to meet up sometime. We're friends after all" It pained me to add the last sentence but I had to. I wasn't going to let him think there was something between us when there wasn't. It wouldn't be fair. His warm amber eyes turned slightly cooler.

"We should. Your a good friend y/n" His smile was still there but it seemed slightly put on. A slight façade.

Before I could reply however a shadow brushed at my shoulder making me pause and shiver at it's sudden coldness. I turned around my eyes seeking out Az but I couldn't find him. Really these shadows had a mind of their own. Another one had joined at this point and they were gently circling my wrist and pulling me toward the house.

"I have to go but I'll be back. Don't have too much fun without me" I called to Eris. He shook his head and gave me a small smile "I would never".

I followed the shadows until we reached the balcony. Azriel was stood looking out into the gardens and at everyone partying the night away. His wings were tucked in and I didn't notice as the shadows left me to join him.

I cleared my throat to announce my presence but he didn't turn around.

"Why aren't you down there?" He asked. I moved toward him and stood near the railing.

"Your shadows brought me here. Plus I'm tired anyway" I replied. I wasn't that tired but I wasn't going to miss the chance to talk to Azriel. Not to mention the view was always best from here.

"They like to meddle" He muttered back. At this his shadows disappeared completely as if annoyed with him. I bit back a smile and continued looking at the night sky and everyone under it, sneaking glances toward Azriel.

"Did you try the lemonade?" I asked, breaking the silence between us. He nodded his head "It was nice. Helped stop the wine making it's way into my system too quickly"

I nodded "I was going to get some more...do you want a glass?". Azriel turned to me and tilted his head slightly, his arms resting on the balcony railing.

"If you wouldn't mind"

I made my back downstairs and grabbed two glasses of lemonade which were fizzing slightly, trying not to knock into Mor as she danced like....well like a lunatic.

"Here" I passed Azriel the glass and he thanked me. Instead of turning back to the view he looked at me instead. His stare made me slightly nervous which is why a small laugh escaped me "What?" He put the lemonade to the side.

"You look so goddamn beautiful tonight" His words were quiet but I still heard them. A warm blush made it's way onto my cheeks.

"Thank you" I replied looking anywhere but at him. He moved closer to me, his silent movements slowly backing me up against a wall with no escape. I held my breath as his thumb gently moved over my lips.

"I want to rip this dress of you. I want to do a lot of things. Do you know what they all have in common?" His eyes had darkened, as his hand moved to my throat, loosely holding me in place.

I shook my head slowly, all capability of speaking having left my mind after he had me against a wall, a hand gripped around my throat.

"All those things include you" He whispered. I felt a shiver run down my spine at his voice so close to me, his fingers moving over my pulse.

"So what's stopping you?" I finally asked, hoping for my sake this wasn't just a joke and he genuinely wanted me. His lips turned up into a small smile "Nothing"

He leaned in and captured my lips in a sweet kiss, making me melt into him completely. His hands moved to my waist as he pinned me against the wall, his chest against mine. Gods he tasted divine. Better than any cupcake.

We broke apart, my breathing heavy after being in heaven for the past minute. I looked at Azriel and when I did a small tug, a small piece of happiness filled me. As if the fae I were looking at now was the reason I felt complete. My eyes widened in realisation "Your my...mate" I whispered.

Azriel's eyes closed and he took a deep breath "I know, love" I stood frozen for a second. He did? How long did he know? I shook my thoughts away. Did it matter? I had found out now and I wanted him whether he was or wasn't.

I leaned in to kiss him once more to show him exactly how much I wanted him, his hand resting on my hips. I never wanted to leave his arms again.

note: Im sorry about Eris yall. I really do love him but his feelings had to be sacrificed 😭

tags: @willowpains @littlestw01f @thelov3lybookworm @riddlesb1tch @thehighladywrites @dont-f1ck-it-you-m1ppet @clairebear08 @artists-ally

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utterlyotterlyx · 29 days

Text

Another Love - Alternate Ending

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Based on this ask

Original here

Summary - Azriel knows you'd never leave his side, no matter what, but when his new situationship with Elain takes over his every living moment and he takes advantage of your feelings, you make the only decision you can to save yourself only for him to hurt you in a way you never thought he could.

Warnings - ANGST, fluff, swearing, neglect, abuse of feelings, mentions of death, slight grovelling, lots of sadness, feminine rage

Word Count - 6.5k jeez

The clock ticked away, idly counting the seconds by, seconds that turned to minutes, and minutes that turned to hours, hours that Azriel had seemingly forgotten about the promise he had made to take you to the theatre.

The cobalt blue bow in your hair, that you had chosen to perfectly match him, swayed sadly as you moved about your room with a heavy heart, hanging up the dress you had bought especially for the occasion and changing into something more comfortable to wallow in self-pity.

It had become normal, his lateness, his nightly visits became later and shorter until they had stopped all together, well, that is until he needed something from you, and you would give him whatever he asked for, no matter how much it hurt you.

You had been a part of the Inner Circle for over 500 years, you were one of the originals, growing up in the camps with Rhys, Cassian and Azriel, Rhys' mother protected you fiercely, and you were very close to Selene, your chosen sister. You were the one they turned to for everything, you were wise and brutal, an incredible warrior and tactician, but also soft and kind; you were the blue break in a sky of storm clouds, you were the spring breeze that cut through the edge of winter, you were everything.

A thing Azriel knew all too well.

It didn't surprise you when Azriel had become fond of Elain, like it didn't surprise you when he had pined after Mor for all those years, completely looking over you in the process. Elain was a soft and fragile thing, she was quiet and graceful, and Azriel was completely besotted by her. A fact that made your heart curse your stupidity, cursing the hope you had willed into it that maybe he would finally see you.

It was no secret that you and Azriel were the closest out of all of the members of your growing family, you had shared 500 years of respect and adoration for one another.

Azriel was by your side when Selene had so brutally lost her life, he had held your hand through the depression and brought you back to life. Azriel knew every single thing that you loved and hated, he knew what every facial expression meant, he knew every tick of your body language which silently conveyed how you were feeling. Azriel knew you better than anyone, even better than he knew himself. The map of you laid etched bare on the back of his hand, a map he used to scour daily, but now barely even glanced at.

It wasn't so one sided.

You knew Azriel better than anything, and you knew a lot. 500 years of life pointed to a rich knowledge. You were the one who cleaned him up after a mission, you're the one who mended his broken bones and washed his turmoil away. You were the one who helped him overcome his insecurities with his hands. You were the one his shadows shot to at family dinners. You were the one who sang him to sleep when his demons had become to much. There was nothing you wouldn't do for Azriel, even if it meant standing on the side-lines until he wanted you.

Moonlight streaked along the floor of your bedroom, cascading across the pale blue of your comforter and drifting along the edges of your antique furniture. The dress you had wanted to wear to the theatre hung off the frame of your mirror, rippling softly in the gentle breeze that entered through the slightly ajar window.

It was silly to feel upset, you knew Azriel didn't owe you any of his time, but you had really thought he would pull through, especially after you had told him how much you missed spending time with him.

Interrupting your damaging thoughts, your door opened to reveal Azriel, who looked annoyed and not at all in knowing of his lateness or the promise that now lay in tatters in your chest. From the look on his face, you knew instantly that Elain was the one who plagued his mind, she was the cause of it every time he had come to see you recently.

Huffing, Azriel trudged to your cream living area, propping his feet up on the antique table you had asked him to be careful with far too many times and sinking into the cushions. He hadn't spared you a glance as he entered, he didn't note his colour in the form of a bow in your perfectly styled hair, he didn't see the sadness in your eyes laced with that naïve hope that he may have turned up to apologise for being late. He didn't see you.

"What happened this time?" You inquired, wrapping yourself tighter into your robe and sliding into the seat beside him, tucking your legs underneath you and propping your head in your palm as you stared at him.

Azriel was beautiful, scars and demons and all, the height of his cheekbones, those hazel oceans of a thousand emotions, the golden skin and arched brows, the curve of his muscles under his second skin, everything about him was intoxicating.

"Lucien," Azriel through his head back and closed his eyes, breathing deeply through his nose, "I was so close to kissing her, so close, Y/N. And then Lucien walked in, he ruined it."

The revelation had stung, he'd never admitted to you to being close to kissing Elain before, it was always a myriad of stolen glances and ghosting touches, of hushed words laced with a million differing meanings. But never a kiss.

Azriel paid no mind to the hurt that radiated from you, he knew it was there, he always knew it was there but he couldn't focus on it.

Only an idiot could be blind to the clear feelings you had toward Azriel, the way you looked at him was not the way a friend looked at another friend, no matter how close they were. Azriel knew that he could never truly push you away, no matter how much you were hurting you'd never leave, he knew that, he knew you'd always be there for him to fall into.

It was so awfully wrong, but he lapped in serenity you gave him, in that unwavering loyalty, and he had no intention to stop drinking from your fountain of love.

"Lucien is her mate, Az. He's bound to not like whatever it is that's going on between you," your voice was gentle and full of understanding, your hand rested on his shoulder and he felt any anger disappear almost immediately. That's what your touch alone could do to him, bring him immeasurable peace.

"I know," he sighed, opening his eyes and turning his head to the side to look at you, a small smile tugged at his lips when he noticed how pretty you looked, with your hair parted just how he liked it, and with a bow tied neatly at the back, "I still think that the cauldron was wrong," your face faltered when he immediately continued on his weekly rant, "It gets it wrong sometimes, we know that. It's wrong, it has to be."

All you wanted was for Azriel to be happy, he deserved it more than anyone you knew. Rhys had found Feyre, who you adored tremendously. Cassian had found Nesta, who had become a very good friend of yours. So, you couldn't blame Azriel for believing that Elain was fated to be his, three brothers for three sisters. Even you had to admit that it made sense, The Mother moved in mysterious ways.

You plastered a smile on your face, you vision catching the satin of your new dress moving softly against the breeze, "Maybe it is," Azriel hummed at your words before continuing on, listing everything he adored about Elain.

"I wish sometimes that she was you, you know? That her and I could be like this, with no one watching over us, to be able to spend time alone and do whatever we wanted to do and talk about anything," it was like he didn't realise what he exactly he was wishing for.

Azriel wanted you to be Elain, so that he could have the life he dreamed of. Elain. Not you. Elain.

You weren't good enough for him.

"I hope you get to that point one day, Az," your voice was strained from holding in your strangled sobs, "I'm tired, can we talk about this more tomorrow?"

"Sure," Azriel smiled at you, rising from his seat and heading to the door, standing in the doorway and looking back at your form still glued to your spot, "I like your bow, Y/N. Blue suits you, always has," and then he closed the door behind him, you waited a few moments before letting your sobs flow through your lips and ripping that damned bow from your hair.

Azriel would never see you the way you begged to be seen, and you couldn't sit around and be the one he fell back to when life wasn't going his way.

More days had passed, more days of Azriel complaining to you, more days of Azriel wishing that Elain and you had switched paths so that he could finally get what he was owed.

Azriel didn't care for your tear stained skin, he didn't care for your weary eyes whenever you spoke of Elain to you.

It was awful that he knew exactly what he was doing, he was abusing your relationship with him, he knew you'd never walk away from him, he knew you'd never be able to put your foot down and tell him to cut it out.

The idea of a mate had him completely obsessed, obsessed to the point that he became blind to what was right in front of him, what had always been in front of him. That blind faith in your loyalty crumbled in his fingers once Rhys had told him that you had decided to purchase your own home in the city, a home away from them all.

"What?" Azriel had asked from his place at the dinner table, bewildered by the news given to them once he had asked where you were.

Nesta knew the exact reason why you had decided you separate yourself from them, you couldn't handle the rejection anymore, and you couldn't begin to heal from the decades worth of heartbreak under the same roof as Azriel and Elain. Nesta knew you held no ill feeling toward her youngest sister, you were too kind for that, you knew it wasn't her fault that Azriel came to you each time something went wrong in their situationship, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

"She left, Az," Mor had cried when Rhys had pulled her to one side that afternoon to tell her that you had decided to move into the home that Rhys had bought you after you had made it clear that you needed your own space, and Rhys had spent an hour trying to convince his cousin that your decision was not impacted by anything any of them did.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Azriel asked his brother who frowned, Feyre grabbed Rhys' hand and squeezed it in hers, "She can't just leave, Rhys."

"She has every right to after everything she's done for all of us, she deserves some peace," Rhys spoke calmly, snapping his fingers and allowing the sentient home to rid the plates and serving dishes from the table.

Azriel was speechless, he felt a frantic pull in his body, one that was poisoned with desperation at the thought of you being anywhere else than under the roof of the River House, the home you had spent a century redecorating and perfecting, paying special attention to each room to make it feel as homely as possible.

He didn't believe it as his chair groaned against the floor and he took off up the stairs toward your room, pushing his way through the doors to find it completely empty. No pictures hanging on the walls, no lines of hooks containing an array of ribbons in different hues, no dresses draped over your mirror, no antique furniture. It was all gone, and the scent of you that was usually so strong that it drowned him was a whisper in the atmosphere.

You had left.

Anger bubbled within him, how could you leave without saying anything? How could you move out of your shared home without a single word? How could you leave him after 500 years at his side?

Azriel flung open the doors to your balcony, a balcony plush with fresh flowers and greenery, he flexed his wings and hurtled himself into the starlit sky, allowing his shadows to peel from his body and search every inch of Velaris until they returned to him reeking of your scent and pulled him down to a small townhouse along the bank of the Sidra.

It was a charming home, pale brickwork, large bay windows, golden light emitting from them, and a large garden full of rich wildlife and botanicals. Your scent flowed from the closed oak door, lavender and honey with a hint of firewood and he found himself following that smell up the winding path until he was knocking on your door.

Golden light flowed from the home as you opened the door. You were dressed in denim overalls that were spatted with cream paint, you hair was loosely bound on the top of your head, and your face was full of uneasy surprise as you looked at him, "Az, what are you doing here?"

Azriel pushed past you and stood in the centre of your hallway, listening to your deep exhale as you closed the door. The space was pretty, it was very you, the walls were half painted cream from their original sage colour that you were obviously painting over, the coving was white and saturated with intricate little sketches of leaves, the carpet was a rich brown and had clearly been laid that day from how interrupted it looked, the only pattern on it being the imprints of your bare feet. Azriel didn't stop his shadows as they extended from him and scoured each part of your new home, nodding with approval and curling around your fingers in understanding adoration.

White sheets were draped over your perfectly placed furniture, to protect it from the paint no doubt, and the same tarp lay at the foot of the walls to protect the carpet. Music drifted softly about the room, and boxes upon boxes of books lay open, with some of them idly placed on shelves to get them out of the way to be sorted properly at a later date.

"It's true? You've really left," he noted the intricately presented kitchen, white cabinets and exposed wooden beams, just like you always wanted.

You rounded him, walking into your new living space, bending down to pick up one of your plant pots before placing it on the window ledge, your back faced him but he could see the pain in your features through the reflection in the window, "Yes, I live here now."

"No. No. You're coming home with me, this is ridiculous," his heart was beating a mile a minute, he couldn't think straight, all that was consuming him was the reality that his fear had come to fruition, that the one person he believed would never leave him had actually walked away.

"I'm not coming back, Azriel," you told him softly, and he saw your shoulders rise and fall with each deep inhale of breath you forced your lungs to take.

Then you turned to him, in the middle of the home that you were trying to make yours, a home away from him, "I thought you'd never leave me. You can't leave me. You're my best friend, I need you."

"No, you don't. You need someone to fall back onto when life isn't going your way, that's all I am to you now," you felt your heart breaking, you felt it shattering in your chest, "I can't be the one you turn to when something becomes between you and Elain. I can't be the one you wish was her. I can't do it anymore, Az. You've taken advantage of me for too long. You promise me the world and show up empty handed. You don't realise I even exist until you need someone to complain to and I just can't do it anymore."

Azriel knew every word you were saying was the truth, he knew he had been using you, but he never expected you to actually walk away from him, you were supposed to love him too much to leave.

Your heart was in the palm of his hands and he knew it, he knew you'd spent hundreds of years falling deeper in love with him each passing day whilst he pined for someone else. The fact of your departure made a bitter monster appear in his mind, he allowed it to tug on the venom in his heart, he allowed it to control him, "Aren't you supposed to be in love with me?"

Azriel watched your eyes widen and a breathless gasp fall from your lips, "You know?"

The Shadowsinger scoffed, "Of course I know. Only a fool wouldn't be able to see it," he saw your face contort into painful sorrow but did nothing to stop himself from saying, "I've known for years. I've known that you'd never leave, you've always been the one that I come to for anything I need and you never complain or tell me to leave. You made it easy to take advantage of you."

A tear slid down your cheek but Azriel made no move to wipe it away, "I want you to leave."

"I'm not leaving without you."

Fire roared in your eyes, "You have no right to command me after what you've knowingly done. I honestly thought that you didn't know, that it was innocent and that you just needed my advice. Now I know that you've willingly abused my kindness, Azriel, you can rot in hell," the tears didn't stop flowing from your eyes, your voice was strained and sore, your chest was so tight that you thought it may stop beating all together, "Get. Out!"

Azriel had left you then, he had left your door wide open and soared into the skies, leaving you in the home that was now tainted by his deceit.

It had been months since Azriel had seen you, Nesta and Feyre had practically forbid him from going anywhere near your home, that being from the land or sky. But that didn't stop him from allowing his shadows to slither under your front door or linger in the streets, he was desperate to know how you were.

Azriel hated himself for what he had said to you, he hated himself for taking advantage of you. In some way he tried to justify it, you were too good for him, he didn't want to ruin you, but it was clear that he already had.

Your absence had left a void that no one could fill, not even Elain despite her efforts, even the thought of her made his stomach drop and sickness swirl to the point where he couldn't bring himself to be around her. All Elain did was remind him of how he failed you.

Azriel had tried writing to you since you wouldn't see him, he gave the letters to Feyre and Nesta, the latter of which still saw your daily, and grew colder toward him with each passing moment. Even Cassian did nothing to hide his disappointment in him, and Rhys had some very telling words to express once Feyre had told him the truth of what had happened in your home that night.

Nothing was working, things with Elain were strained and difficult, the problems between them so raw and everyone's opinions so disapproving that it created a distance between them that was unmanageable.

Then it dawned on him that nothing was working with Elain because it wasn't meant to. The person who was meant to be his had been under his nose for 500 years, and now wanted nothing to do with him.

Cassian had pulled Azriel from his thoughts by stepping through the threshold of his room, "Are you coming to training?"

"Tell me how to fix it," Azriel lifted his head from his hands and turned his head toward Cassian who sighed in reply, moving to the bed to sit beside Azriel, "I need to know how to fix it."

"Only you can figure that out, Az," Cassian spoke to him, throwing his arm over Azriel's shoulder before continuing, "Y/N loves you Az, she has for 500 years. A few months apart won't change that. You're really fucking stupid for this though, she's the only one of us who knew the exact right thing to do and say every time. Y/N deserves more than the basic requirements of respect, she deserves the world in the palm of her hand and a person who loves her more than he loves himself. Don't bother her unless you can do that."

It was the anniversary of Selene's death, and the day hadn't gotten any easier for you to deal with.

Rhys and you had made a habit of doing something together each year, though, Azriel was the one to accompany you when Rhys had gone Under the Mountain. The location was sacred to you, you and Rhys would bundle yourselves up in blankets and watch the sun set over the Sidra, you'd rehash old memories and stories, ones that you both knew the script to by heart, but that never got old.

Your High Lord had tried to convince you to come home, but didn't push you when you had told him no. Your life had began to feel rather empty without the family antics that consumed your day-to-day life.

"I miss her," you had told him sadly, your head rested on his shoulder as the sun tipped her toes into the water in the distance, the sky grew darker each passing minute.

Rhys hummed, holding you closer to his side, "So do I," he replied with equal sadness, you had all grown up together, you basically were his sister by blood, and when you both had lost her, it only made him clutch to you more, "She'd nail Az's balls to the wall for sure."

A laugh passed through your lips before it died in your throat, you had done your best to not think about Azriel despite him owning your soul, you had done your best to heal from what he had done, but even then, you missed him more than anything, "How is he?"

It was the first time you had asked about him since before you had moved to your new home which was now fully decorated and yours, thanks to Rhys, Feyre and Nesta who made it their priority to help you settle, "He's-" Rhys couldn't lie to you, he was never able to even when you were younger, "-Not great. He misses you, he hates himself for what he said to you that night."

"I'd hate myself too," you had hummed, shifting to stand on the stone ledge where you and Rhys had sat, wanting a better view of the sun as it began to disappear against the horizon.

A familiar cold kiss pecked at your ankles and you looked down to see those shadows you had missed so dearly meandering around where you stood. Cedar entered your lungs and you shivered in painful delight as his warmth curled around your back.

"Y/N," his voice was deep and rough, it was pleading, you looked to your side and found that Rhys had vanished. That damn meddler. "Please look at me."

Not able to say no to that voice, you indulged the Shadowsinger and turned on the balls of your feet to peer upward at him. Azriel had his wings neatly tucked behind his back, his hands dangled at his sides, and his head was hung low. He looked terrible.

"Why are you here?"

Azriel clenched his jaw, he didn't expect you to be happy to see him, but it didn't stop the self hatred from growing in every single cell of his body, "I know how hard today is for you, I just wanted to see if you were alright."

"Well I'm fine, so you can go now," you made a move to walk away, to take the path down the edge of the Sidra to your home which had become your haven away from reality.

Though, you didn't get very far, perhaps two steps before Azriel's fingers curled around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks and pulling you back to him, "Y/N, I don't even know how to apologise in the way that you deserve. I don't know how to say sorry and make you feel like I see and hear you."

"What I did was disgusting, I hate myself for it. I never should have taken advantage of you like that, you've done everything to help me the entire time that I've known you and I ruined everything for someone I don't even want. I've always wanted a mate, you know that, and I got so carried away with wanting it that I completely ignored the only person who's ever truly loved me for me despite all of the horrid things I have done. Elain isn't you, Y/N. No one compares to you. No one makes me feel safe like you do, no one makes me feel alive like you do, and no one can make me hope for death by their void like you do."

"I am yours, Y/N. I always have been. I couldn't be the reason you ever got hurt, I couldn't be the one to risk extinguishing that glorious fire in your soul. You are the only one I cannot bear to lose, the thought of losing you terrifies me, it always has, and instead of protecting you, I took advantage of you and pushed you away because I would rather hurt someone else with everything that I am than hurt you with just a a part of it."

"I'm so stupid for ignoring you, I'm a prick for using you as my security blanket rather than let you in, you know me better than I know myself, you love me more than I could ever imagine, and it terrified me because I couldn't let myself love you. I couldn't let myself taint you."

Azriel lifted his hands, cupping your face in his palms and you could see every inch of despair within him, that conflicted flame dancing within his soul, "I'm not asking you to forgive me, I don't think I will ever be able to forgive myself after what I've done to you. I'm not asking for anything from you. I just need you to know that no matter how severe your storm, I promise I won't leave your side, I'll stay with you through the howling winds that whip my cheeks raw and red. I will stay and hold you when the night leaves you shivering and give you space when when your searing heat pushes you into a fiery rage. I will stay and love you in whatever way you crave, whether that be from next to you or from wherever you cast me to."

"Azriel-" tears flowed freely from his eyes and you knew he meant every word he was saying. Every single word was being plucked from the core of his essence.

"I know that you're scared, and that you don't trust me. I'm scared too. But you're the only one I can face love with because I only want to feel it with you. At the end of the day I want it to be you and me, I want your early mornings and late nights, I want you on your good days and bad. I will never stop wanting you. I will never stop needing you filling my lungs like oxygen and giving me life."

Azriel dropped his forehead onto yours, and you felt your own cheeks dampening from your own tears at his words, "I love you, Y/N. I will always love you, even if you don't want me to, even if you decide to walk away from me I will not stop loving you. I am so thankful for you, and I know I haven't shown that, but if you give me one more chance, I will show you exactly the man you have made me into. I will give you the world you have always dreamed of. My soul is yours until you stop loving me. Please. Please."

There was a silence as you contemplated his words, maybe he did mean them, but it still didn't detract from the clear fact that he had knowingly abused your love of him, that he had knowingly taken advantage of you.

"No," Azriel physically winced as you removed yourself from his embrace, his forehead and fingers crying at the loss of your touch, his shadows retracted like they had been burned, withering away before his eyes.

"No?"

"No, Azriel," you wiped your cheeks free of your sadness which had turned into rage, "You can't come here on my hardest of days to confess your love for me after abusing me endlessly, after overlooking me our entire lives for others. I will not be your second, third, or last choice. If I'm not your first choice then I don't want to be a part of it at all. I loved you, Az. I loved you more than my lungs needed air to survive, I would have done anything for you. I did do everything for you. And this is how I'm repaid, by being consciously used to inflate your precious ego?"

"Y/N, no, it wasn't like that," he reached for you and you took a step back, the stars illuminated the sky in their richly elegant glow, and you could feel Selene wrap her heavenly arms around you and tell you to stick it to the man.

"But it was Azriel. It was like that. First it was Mor who you pined after for decades, I could deal with it then, I knew how much you wanted to be loved and cherished, and with Mor, you never came to me and complained, it was like you didn't even want her. But then Elain, you made me so small and insignificant, you had the gall to wish she was me, you knew I loved you and you chose to say that?"

"Y/N, please-"

"Stop fucking talking," you hissed, "I do not live to serve you, the purpose of my life is not to be your maid and mother and nurse so you don't have to lift a finger. I am not your therapist or path to live out your pathetic picket fence dream. I am Y/N, I was your best friend, I would have given you everything and I did even when you gave me nothing and I am done. I am done being the thing you can throw aside and pick up when you want to feel good about yourself. I'm done."

Your body felt ten times lighter, like you had just off loaded all of the rage that had been stacked within your mind and soul directly to the person who deserved to know just how vile they had been to you.

"I never want to talk to you again. I'm not sorry, the only one to blame for everything falling apart is you and your whimsical other-worldly dreams. Grovel your heart out, Az, you're never going to know about my life from here on out. I forbid it."

And then you left, you had left Azriel stood on that rock looking the most broken you had ever seen him, even his shadows had fully retreated into his body, wounded by your words and ashamed of their master. They had just lost their favourite thing in the world.

He had continued to try and get your attention in the weeks that followed, appearing on the streets and trying to speak to you to which you wholly ignored, he had showed up at Rita's and tried corner you, begging you to just listen, but you looked right through him.

Rhys had agreed to give you a different position, one that would mean less opportunity to bump into Azriel. You had become an emissary to the Night Court, Rhys' most trusted one at that, and you travelled Prythian and kept bonds alive and strong between the courts.

The Inner Circle were mostly just polite to Azriel, they respected your decision, some even admired it, and Azriel stood and watched as Elain accepted the bond with Lucien, feeling foolish for ever believing that he was deserving of such a sacred thing.

Every time you had returned home, Azriel would have all manners of gifts delivered, from pastries to fine jewellery and dresses . It had gotten so out of hand that you had to scream into Rhys' mind to get his brother to stop. You had kept your word, you didn't speak to him even when you did see him.

And soon enough he stopped, he didn't linger in the streets or on the bank of the Sidra, his shadows no longer followed you, no more gifts arrived at your home that was bursting with new wonder. Azriel had finally realised that no amount of pleading words or pretty things would bring you back to him. You were gone.

The hope that had filled his heart, that had broken the shadow shrouding his soul, when Rhys had announced that you were joining them for dinner that evening, was enough to bring some happiness to him. Azriel had been a ghost of himself, wallowing in self pity and loathing, completing his missions to a far more gruesome degree before returning home and tending to his own wounds. No one was there to help him anymore.

You were ethereal, you had stepped through the door with a happiness he hadn't seen in your in decades, your skin was glowing and your eyes were bursting with happiness. You were dressed in a ornately stunning forest green dress, one that he had never seen before, and you sat in your usual seat, that one that had laid empty for thirteen months wedged between Feyre and Nesta's chairs, the one they glanced at longingly each day.

Yet again, you avoided Azriel, but not obviously in a sense, you just negated to recognise his presence entirely. The only thing you did recognise were his shadows that pecked your wrists, and he willed you to look at him, instead, you only smiled at the shadows and that was enough to make them feel validated and still loved by you.

Rhys had asked how you'd been and you didn't relent on sharing your tales from your travels across the continent, from the libraries in the Day Court that Helion had given you access to, to learning the healing powers from the top healers in Dawn, you were enriched with knowledge and you were loving every moment.

"I do have some news," you spoke and if Azriel hadn't been listening to your stories, which he certainly was because it made him feel like a part of your life again, he was definitely listening to you now.

Azriel noticed the blush creeping up your cheeks and the bashful look in your eye, he watched your chest rise and fall shakily as you tried to form the words to tell them what you needed to. Azriel knew that look, because that's how you used to look when you were thinking about him.

"I found my mate," you had admitted, and your eyes found him for the first time in over a year, they held sympathy within them, and he felt all of the air rush from his lungs.

Your look only lasted a couple of seconds before Rhys wrapped you up in his arms, laughing joyfully at the news as the rest of the room, even Elain and Lucien, stood to congratulate you, everyone but him.

"Do we know him?" Feyre asked, her blue-grey eyes brimming with happy tears, all they wanted was to you to find your happiness, in whatever way that would be gifted to you.

You nodded, a love-sick smile on your face, "You do, we've already accepted the bond, and I know you may not approve but I need you to, for me? He's coming tonight, I want you all to meet him."

Rhys kissed your forehead and Azriel felt the fire rage within his chest, he'd give anything to have your skin under his lips again, "Of course," the door sounded and Azriel felt as though he was in a fever dream.

You had a mate. His Y/N had found her mate.

You had inhaled deeply and squeezed Feyre's hands in your own before you left the room, the muffled muttering of your voice conversing with your mate sounding to Azriel's left. He knew they were glancing at him, but they didn't say a word, and he didn't meet their gazes, he didn't look up until your scent mixed with another's entered the room. The perfect harmony of lavender and pine, of spiced oranges and honey.

"I believe you all know Eris," he heart dropped to his stomach and Azriel felt the room spin as he looked toward you, toward Eris Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court, who gently laid his hand on your hip and pressed his lips to your temple.

Eris had become an ally after overthrowing Beron, Mor had forgiven him for his past transgressions, Rhys had even considered him a friend. Eris Vanserra was your mate.

The room audibly gasped and rushed to you both, hugging and congratulating you, so unbelievably happy that you had found your person, "The moment I saw her in my court I knew it was her. It snapped for me before she realised it, but I couldn't have anyone else whilst knowing that this beautiful creature was out there fated to be mine," his eyes were full of love, unblemished untainted pure love, and yours twinkled in reply as you unveiled the large sapphire on your ring finger, "Y/N is set to become my High Lady. I promise you all that I will cherish her every moment of every day. I am so irrevocably in love with her and I just know that our souls will find one another in every universe we may wander into. She's my everything and I will always choose her. Always."

Azriel watched you, doing his best to simmer down the fire raging within his heart, he looked at your bright smile and sparkling eyes, he roamed your glowing skin and inhaled your mated scent, and then his gaze fell on the barely there swell of your stomach and he decided in that moment that you were divine and untouchable, and that he would finally let you go if it meant that you'd be happy and breathe the life that you were meant to own.

A life full of the love that no one deserved more than you.

Authors Note

I think I like this version better..

@saltedcoffeescotch @fxckmiup

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