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sarawritestories · 3 months

Note

can I request an Az x reader fic with lots of hurt/comfort vibes? maybe they are out on the town and they run into the readers ex who was not very nice to her and she gets scared and az goes into protective mode? thanks thanks thanks!!

My Wife. My Mate. My World

Azriel X Plus Size F Reader

A/N: Thank you for this request! This just felt fitting to have as a plus size reader I hope that's okay! This is also my first time writing for Az and I hope I did him justice for you!

Summary: Azriel and You are in your home Court of the Summer Court. When you run into your ex, the confidence you spent a long time building was shredded and your Mate was more than happy to remind you how amazing you were.

Content Warning: 18+ Minors DNI, Depictions of verbal abuse and slight (Briefly), slight fat shaming, low self esteem, fluffy ending

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.6k words

It was a beautiful day in your home court, Summer Court, your hair was up in a curly bun and a loose cobalt dress that had a crisscross design on the front and two high slits. The dress accentuated your curves and was one of your favorites. You didn’t bother with jewelry as shadows were always swirling around your arms and in the blazing summer heat their cool touch was a welcome reprieve. A Hand wrapped around your waist as you walked through the beach, “I love you, in Night Court attire, but you are a goddess in Summer Court dresses.” Azriel whispered causing you to giggle.

“Azriel, you have said that when we are in every other court except for the Spring Court, and you also say that I am a goddess with no clothes on at all.” I tuck myself into his side, “I’m beginning to think I could wear garbage and you would call me a goddess.”

Azriel kissed the top of your head. “You would make quite divine garbage, Angel.” You rolled your eyes and elbowed him though he was quick and gripped your arm spinning you around while simultaneously taking your legs out from under you with his own. The next thing you knew your back was pressed against the warm sand and the shadowsinger was on top of you pinning your arms above your head with one hand. His wings flared up to block the sun rays, so you weren’t squinting. He had a playful smirk on his face, “Violence is never the answer, my love.” There was a twinkle in his eye as his face lowered to yours.

“Says one of the most feared spymaster and warrior in all of Prythian.” You murmured before his lips were on yours. The kiss makes your toes curl but every kiss he gives you has that effect ever since your first date, it only intensified when the mating bond snapped for both of you. He slipped his tongue in your mouth, and you moaned and arched your back yearning for more friction. He pulled away causing you to groan in protest. He chuckled and pushed off you standing and dusting the sand off his knees. You glared at him, “You’re cruel, Shadowsinger,” he laughed and held out his hand, you grasped it the scars bringing comfort on your skin.

Azriel lifted you up and gripped your waist bringing you close kissing your nose, “Listen I’m not trying to get a bloodstone because of public nudity. Rhys would kill us both.” His hand grazed down to your plump ass and squeezed, “When we get home though,” he continued to grope and, in a flash, slapped your tender flesh causing you to gasp as his lips grazed the shell of your ear, “I will happily show you how cruel I can be.”

You could feel the heat rise from your neck to your cheeks, “Is that a promise?”

He was about to respond when a familiar voice rang in your ears, “Y/N? Is that you?” Your body stilled and shadows swirled around my body anxious from the shift. You turned and were met with a familiar set of eyes. The male was in the Summer Court army uniform his gold skin compliment

You pulled away from Azriel and he let you to fully face your ex, “Micah, what a pleasant surprise.” You gave him a grin, but Azriel as he moved to your side his wings tucked in tightly.

Micah gave you a tight lip smile, “For sure, I heard you were in the throws of the Night Court.” He looked over to where your mate his cold assessing gaze. Azriel’s relaxed demeaner shifted, he widened his legs, crossed his arms and made sure that one wing curved around you.

Micah opened his mouth and with a familiar glint in his eye you gripped Azriel’s arm. “Where are my manners? Micah, this is Azriel, my mate. Az, this is Micah, an old friend of mine.” Rage flared briefly in his gaze at your choice of words. “Darling, could you give us a minute?” you looked over at my mate, who’s hazel eyes met yours his brow quirked, “Just going to catch up, I’ll meet you at the café, okay?” Azriel met Micah’s gaze who puffed his chest out and you rolled your eyes.

Azriel pressed his lips to your forehead. “You sure?” he whispered, you gave him a nod and he gripped your face in your hands, and he crushed his lips to yours letting the kiss linger for a minute longer, and with a wary glance over the other male, he made a few stepped backs and took to the skies. A cool shadow still swirled around your wrist sliding up your arm and around your neck.

Micah held out an arm and I slipped my hand through his I felt his hand instantly flexed. “So, you fuck vermin now?” I scowled at him, and he laughed and continued, “You really had to scrape the bottom of the barrel, huh?”

You gritted my teeth, “Watch your fucking mouth, Micah,” trying to focus on your feet sinking into the sand.

Micah proceeded, “Why did you leave, Y/N?” He feigned sadness and you saw right through it. “We were so good together.” He took a moment to look me up and down, “Though you, don’t look nearly as radiant as you did when you were sinking into my cock.” His arm moved and snaked around my waist, his hand gripped the flesh and my body tensed. “They clearly do not treat you the way you deserved. With discipline.” I didn’t even notice my shadow fleeing.

You closed your eyes and tried block out his words, but you were sent back to that time before the Night Court took you in.

“Get out of my house,” Micah gritted out. The blonde soldier in his bed scrambled to get clothes on as the male placed his arms behind his head arrogance seeping out of his pores as the female fled and bumped into you fleeing the house you shared. “Enjoy the show, Princess.”

You wanted to be heartbroken by this, but you had suspected him of being unfaithful. I crossed my arms and leaned on the door frame, “How long?”

He snorted and decided to rise from the bed, “Does it matter? You’re not going to leave.”

Anger began to bubble up, “Oh really? Why is that?”

Micah approached with predatory grace and gripped my chin tightly. “Because I’m the only one who will give you the time of day. I mean you and I both know you’re plain looking,” He looked down at my body, “Your body is subpar, and you are lucky that I put up with you.” He pressed his thumb that smelled of the female he was with on my bottom lip and propped my mouth open. I knew what he wanted me to do. “You going to be a good girl or are we going to need to punish you.” I closed my mouth over his thumb and sucked, tears did fall of humiliation. He pressed a kiss to my forehead, “So here is what’s going to happen, you are going to be my pretty little doll for all events, and we’ll go on dates, and I will fuck anyone in our shared bed I please.”

A hand patting my cheek brought me back to the present, “Ah, good you’re back.” Micah smirked. “Were you thinking about me, Princess.” Uncomfort began to settle in my bones, and I sent that feeling down the bond as Micah pinned me against his chest.

With a thud and a cloud of sand blue siphons radiated through the smoke. Emerging from the cloud Azriel’s shadows swirled around and ready to attack. Rage filled those hazel eyes of his. “Get. Your. Hands. Off. Her. Now.” His voice was ethereal the shadows giving it a haunting cadence and it entranced you.

Micah only tightened his grip on the order, and you yelped Azriel snarled. “Well look at that, Y/N you found someone who would be willing to kill, for your mediocrity.” You flinched as you met the shadowsinger’s eyes. His Hazel irises softened as he watched the verbal blow land. Though in a flash they steeled into calm rage as shadows leaked from his body and wrapped around you again bringing comfort.

Micah ignored the lethal man in front of him, “I mean maybe your Cunt is not so medio-“Azriel’s fist collided with the male’s face and he released his gripped on you. You wrapped your arms around Azriel’s neck and inhaled his scent.

“I got here as quickly as I could,” The High Lord of the Summer Court’s voice broke through the chaos on the beach. “Y/N, are you okay?” You turned to face him, Azriel’s hand splayed across your stomach soft circles rubbing my stomach.

“I’m fine, Asshole never knew when to shut up.” You muttered, your brows furrowed, “How did you know?”

“Azriel’s shadows alerted us something was wrong with one of our Soldiers and a member of a different court.”

You leaned into Azriel’s chest his hand holding you protectively, your head resting at his shoulder, “You never went to the café did you,” his shadows sputtered around me as if trying to confirm my theory.

He pressed his lips on your hair line, “The shadows that love you so much didn’t trust him, so I didn’t go far.” He looked at Tarquin, “Will he be taken care of?”

Tarquin nodded, “Yes he will, we don’t take lightly to our soldiers manhandling civilians, especially when they hail from a different Court.” He looked at you, “I know this was once your home, I always want you to feel welcome here. I’m so sorry for Micah’s behavior.”

You crossed my arms around my body, “Micah has always been like that, but I appreciate you handling this for me.”

Tarquin nodded and walked to the other sentries that were hauling a knocked-out Micah away.

Azriel nuzzled his nose in your neck taking in your scent, “Would you like to go home?” He whispered.

You closed my eyes, “Please.” Azriel pressed his lips to your neck and shadows erupted around the two of you and then you were in our town home that you built after you had your mating ceremony.

You pulled away from your mate and gave him a tight smile, “I’m going to hop in the bath get the sand out.”

Azriel smiled, “Want me to join you, worship you like the goddess you are.”

You shook your head, “Sorry, my love, I’m not in the mood.” You cupped his face and gave his free cheek a kiss.

He furrowed his brow and watched as you walked to your shared room and went into the bathroom. In a few moments’ time you were in the bathtub and thinking back to everything Micah had said.

Your body is subpar, and you are lucky that I put up with you.

Did Azriel feel that way?

You’re plain looking.

Azriel always said you were his goddess, was he lying. Micah always lied and told me how beautiful I was.

Hours went by and you barely moved out of the bath and there was a soft knock on the door, Azriel poked his head in as you were staring at your knees. “Angel.” The spymaster walked into the room, closing the door behind him, and leaned against it. “You’ve been in here for hours.” You met his gaze, and he inhaled sharply as he felt worthlessness down the bond. In only a few strides he was by your side and gripping your hand, “Talk to me.”

Tears began to resurface as you faced your mate, “I’m sorry, Az.”

Azriel’s brows furrowed. “For what?” He was stroking the top of your hand with his thumb.

“For not being a good enough mate for you.” Azriel’s eyes flashed with pain but were gone in an instant. “You deserve someone better than me.” Tears were falling down your face and your breathing began to quicken, “I’m not worth-“

Azriel gripped the back of your neck and pressed your forehead against his and your eyes fluttered closed. “Shhh, enough of that.” He pressed a kiss on your forehead that was so tender, and he sent love down the bond like a caress on your soul. “Let’s get you clean up.” Azriel grabbed soap and a rag and began washing your body and massaging your hair. He was whispering sweet little nothings in your ear as he cleaned the sand and dirt from the day.

When he was done, he helped you out of the tub and wrapped you in a towel, his shadows bringing in your favorite nightgown that was the same blue as Azriel’s siphons. “Arms up.” You lifted your arms, tears still flowing down your cheeks.

Once the nightgown hugs your skin you wrap your arms around yourself, and the cool touch of the shadows yank my arms apart and your brows furrowed. “They don’t like you hiding,” His hands met yours and the comfort of his scars kissing your skin the shadows slithering between both of your hands. “I don’t like it either.”

He led you to your shared bedroom and led you to the full-length mirror. His shadows swirling around your neck and through your hair giving you some light kisses. He rubbed the top of your arms and left soft kisses on your bare shoulder. His hazel eyes met yours in the mirror, “Tell me, Angel, what do you see?”

You took a deep shaky breath, “I see me.” He casts a look toward you, causing you to bite your lip. “I see a plain, large woman who isn’t a warrior like Feyre or Nesta, Or beautiful like Gwyn or Elain.”

Azriel wrapped his arms around your torso, his fingers digging into your soft skin and gave your shoulder a soft bite, eliciting a moan from you. “You want to know what I see?” I nod and he presses you closer to his chest and sways back and forth as he looks at your reflection. “I see a strong female, that fought and lived though a war. I see a kindhearted female, who took it upon herself to make her best friend’s mate comfortable just so she didn’t feel alone,” You smile thinking of the first time you met Ferye. “I see a loving female, who saw the mangled hands of a broken male and decided to kiss every scare telling him that you want to place good memories on those scars to erase the bad ones.”

Your hand founds his and gave him a squeeze as tears streamed down before he turned you around to face him, he tucked the wet strands of hair behind your ear, “I see a female, who is powerful because she was brave enough to leave an abusive situation with someone who did not appreciate or respect all the amazing things, I adore about you.” He wiped the tears from your cheeks and kissed you passionately for a moment and when he pulls away, he keeps your face close to his. “I love you, Y/N. Your smile almost made me fall to my knees in praise.” You laughed and you could see his eyes light up at the sound. “My Wife, My Mate, my world, is anything but mediocre. You are amazing and I thank the Cauldron everyday that it brought you to me.” He kissed your nose, “My beautiful.” A kiss to my lips, “Kind,” Another kiss, “Passionate,” another kiss, “Sexy,” he growled, and I smiled, “Mate.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, “I love you, Az.” You kissed his lips and Azriel’s hands slid down to grip your plump ass, “Now I do recall you saying something about worshiping me-“ You couldn’t finish your statement before Azriel scooped you in his arms and put you to your bed and spent all night showing you just how amazing he thought you were.

#azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #acotar fanfiction #cassian x reader #azriel #rhysand acotar #rhysand x reader #batboys #inner circle

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evielmostdefinitely · 3 months

Text

darkened shadows |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: a single earring from the past causes turmoil in coryo's present with you.

contains: dark!coriolanus. manipulative, obsessive coriolanus. past mentions of lucy gray, sejanus. coryo's past. angst.

A single earring, worn- judging by the yellowish tint to the pearls that crested the thin gold hoop; that single earring that sent your world into a spiral. Cleaning your home, a gift from your parents after you announced your engagement to Coriolanus, after six months of courting during his time at University. You just wanted to be good, a prim and proper housewife, devoted just as he was to you, like your mother before you- until a single earring shattered your world.

“Darling,” Corio’s voice traveled through the grand spiraling stairs, heavy soled shoes clacking against the marble with every climb. “My love, where are you?” His tone held an edge, a jagged sense of urgency that would usually have you stiffening, running to coax him, soothing his worrisome mind.

Not this time.

You could hear his heartbeat, heavy in his throat when he spat out your name. No terms of endearment, no breathy gasps between it like this morning, when you were tangled beneath the bedsheets, his hands in your hair, toes curling with pleasure.

Frantic eyes piercing through the low light of your bedroom, falling onto you. His hair was longer now, coiffed all the same, but the curls you loved returned when Coryowould let them. “Did you not hear me calling for you?” Coryo huffed, a white knuckled grip on his satchel.

You didn’t answer, lips pursed, legs crossed from your perch on the edge of the bed. Coriolanus frowned, pulling the strap from over his head. “What? What’s wrong? Is it your mother again-”

“-No.” You snapped, nose scrunching in annoyance.

Coriolanus paused, unsure. His mind scanned, raced through facts and dates- had he missed a date? An event? Fuck, dinner with your parents? His calendar had been cleared, it was why he stayed late in the lab with Gaul.

“Why are you upset?” Coryo frowned, tired of the guessing game. He hadn’t meant to bark it out the way he did, but his heart skipped in his chest, squeezing too tight for his own comfort.

You scoffed, a manicured hand smacking the bed, fist curling around the object. Corio’s eyes followed, the way your white knuckled grip held the object, screwing the sapphire ring off your own ring finger. “Here,” You spat, dropping the engagement ring at his feet, the single earring banging around his shining shoes. “Since you love collecting jewelry so much, you can add that to your lover’s stash.” Your voice drenched in a sarcastic venom that had his stomach twisting.

Coryo tracked the sapphire, jaw setting. The ring- your engagement ring he’d given to you the night he poured his heart out into yours, in your parent’s garden- had been his mother’s before it found its new home on your finger. One of the few items his Grandma’am had let him have of hers, one of the few she hadn’t sold. There it was, settled next to Lucy Gray’s earring. The cursed object, when she’d betrayed him, tore his heart out in the woods of District Twelve. At the time, keeping it felt right, anchored to him like a cruel reminder. He’d forgotten about the thing, truly, stored away in a drawer far from his mind now that you took up most of the space in his head.

“You went through my things?” Coryo clipped through gritted teeth, bending to pick up the two pieces, one in each hand.

You gawked, spinning on your heel furiously to face him. “I was cleaning-”

“-You were snooping.” Coryo snapped. “We have maids for cleaning-”

“-And you told them not to come yesterday” You hissed, eyes narrowed to match his. “You wanted to spend the day in bed. Not let them in.” Your finger jabbed in the air towards him accusingly.

Coriolanus’ mouth tightened into a firm line, frowning towards you. “You still had no right to go through my things.” He huffed. “Cleaning the drawers?”

“I was putting your father’s compass away.” You sneered. “I didn’t want it out, and I thought you would want the same. You’re always going on and on about how the help will steal it if given the chance.”

Coryodidn’t respond, eyes piercing through you. “So I take it’s true?” You scoff, hoping your snarl of a tone would disguise the hurt lingering through your chest. “You’ve taken a lover before the wedding?”

“What? No.” Coryo ran a hand down his face, heart hammering. “How dare you say-”

“-How dare you.” You snap, taking a step towards him. “Make a mockery of me, of us. Embarrass me this way.” Tears of fury blur your vision, turning before he could see.

“It’s not- she was from before.” Coriolanus felt his composure withering away with every stomp of your foot.

He’d rationalize his despond that he was worried about his own title, his own future. Without your family, he might as well be back to living off of scraps in the worn down family home, cracks in the foundation. He’d worked hard but your father’s good graces were securing him his spot as President after the wedding.

“Before?” You scoffed, throwing your hands up. “Before the engagement?”

“No,” Coryo shook his head, a strangled huff caught in his throat. “Before-Before I even knew you.”

“So you kept it around?” You snarled, turning on your foot so quickly it had him flinching backwards. “Pieces of another woman? Another lover lying around in our home?”

“It’s not like that. I-I didn’t even know I still had it.” Coryo was faltering, stuttering uneasily. He wasn’t used to not being in control, not being able to con himself out of any situation. The truth was, you held the upper hand; he needed you more than you did him.

“Darling, please, just-just let me explain.” Coriolanus begged, voice lilting higher and higher. “It was before I met you. When-When I was a mentor.” He reached out a hand for you, your dramatic step back making him flinch.

“Oh? So it’s Clemensia’s? I knew you two were more than you said. And you tried to tell me you-”

“-It’s not Clemensia’s.” Coryo shook his head gently. “It-It belongs to someone I want to forget about now- I have forgotten about now. At the time, I-I wasn’t in my right mind. I was manipulated and cheated and played to be a fool by this-this girl.”

That seemed to pique your interest, brows quipping carefully, watching him with caution. Vulnerability, Coryo wasn’t good at that, but he would have to be or try to be. Still, to keep you, keep your family and all his power into place, he’d have to be.

“I haven’t been entirely honest with you.” Coriolanus said slowly, eyes taking in every quip, every pull and fall of your emotions. Your breath stilling, hitching in your throat, though you tried to keep yourself steady, calm.

“In the past.” Coriolanus added quickly, his own voice teetering on a frantic tone that he despised, heart thudding loudly in his chest. “Let me be clear, I-I’ve never betrayed you.”

Your shoulders seemed to relax though your eyes stayed hard, challenging. “I went to District Twelve because I was sent there as punishment, that was true.” Coriolanus started, hand closing around the pearl earring, the hook piercing into his palm. “But I also went there looking for… someone.”

“Someone?” You repeated.

Coriolanus nodded. “You have to understand, I-I was coerced. Tricked by this- this woman, who used me.” His lips pursed, eyes lifting to yours. Your features softened, pulling into a look of sympathy.

“She used me. Used me and my wealth to escape.”

“A district girl?” You whispered like you were scared, frightened that someone might hear, even in the room with just the two of you. “Coriolanus-”

“-I know.” Coryo nodded, turning with the shake of his head. “You-You see why I didn’t tell you? I’m ashamed, my love. This,” He took a shaky breath, turning to look over his shoulder at you. “This is the darkest secret I’ve ever harbored. Not a soul, no one, knows of this.”

You stood still, unsure, finger twisting around your ring finger, absent of the ring you’d grown so fond of. Coriolanus watched you carefully, over his shoulder, hoping you’d believe him. You’d forgive him. He was so close, so close to his inauguration. Your father had practically promised it when he asked for his permission to marry you. “You take care of her, I’ll take care of you. Make sure you give my darling girl the life she deserves, and I’ll make sure you get the life you deserve.” Coriolanus prayed you hadn’t told your father any of this.

“But… The earring.” You looked at his closed palm. “Why would you keep it if she was so horrible to you?”

Coriolanus paused, letting his mind still. He was close, you were close, inching towards forgiveness. Towards forgetting the Baird girl who haunted his dreams.

“Truthfully, my love, I-I didn’t even-” Coriolanus ran a hand down his face, and out of the coroner of his eyes he saw you take a step towards him. “I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know?” Your brows furrowed, halting your quiet crawl towards him.

“I was in such a state of-of distress.” Coriolanus shook his head, swallowing the hard, burning lump in his throat. “You have to understand, I shamed my family getting kicked out of University, my friend, Sejanus, he-he was hung, found out to be a traitor-”

“-The Plinth’s son?” Your wide eyed, sympathetic gaze melted Coryo’s heart. Nearly felt it to be too much. Nearly made him feel guilty.

Nearly.

“Yes.” Coriolanus nodded slowly, a wave of pain washing over his features, eyes dropping at the name of his fallen friend. “Yes, all of that.” Coriolanus swallowed, eyes gleaming in the low light of the apartment. “And this deceptive, devious girl, she used that. Took advantage of my weakness. Used me.”

Your small hiccup of a gasp, heart wrenching in an ache that Coriolanus shared with you. Burned in the fact that you felt so strongly for him, chest swarming in an unfamiliar heat.

“I was so… distraught. Positively sick with grief and-and betrayal.” Coriolanus’ eyes met yours, closer now, with every silent step over the carpet. “I can’t tell you why I kept it. What possessed me, truly, I had forgotten about it entirely, because-” Coriolanus let himself fall silent, eyes cast to his freshly shined shoes on the carpet, so bright he could see his own reflection.

“Because why, Coryo?” You whispered, stepping so your house slippers were touching the tips of his shoes. Your hand soft, cradling his face sweetly. “Tell me, please.”

“I met you.” Coriolanus said softly, his hand cradling your own, the engagement ring pressed between your skins. It made your knees weak, swooning at his softness, his kindness.

“I didn’t lie, petal. From the moment I met you, my life has known nothing but joy.” His eyes held yours, repeating the very same words from his vows weeks before, on bended knee in your parent’s rose garden overlooking the Capitol.

“She is a sad, dark spot in my past, but you,” Coriolanus’ free hand moved, letting the earring fall to the ground, cupping your face. “You, my love, are my world. My bright, shining future. The sun, the stars, everything to me.”

Your lip wobbled at his words, eyes shining with tears, moved by his words, the sincerity in his eyes and in his tone. Coryo’s stomach settled, relaxed at your sincere reaction. He let the ring fall in his hand, holding your hand in his, slipping the ring back onto your finger- and you let him. Of course, you let him, how could you not?

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was lying, like I was withholding the truth.” Coryo’s hand wrapped around your fingers, thumb ghosting over your ring, pressing it into your skin. “It pains me to talk about, to even think about.”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, your hand squeezing his affectionately. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t, my darling.” Coriolanus bit back the smile that threatened to grace his face. It was easy, too easy to convince you. You leaned into his hold, eyes lingering over the dazzling sapphire on your finger.

Coriolanus swallowed. “Thank you.” He muttered, your eyes flashing to him in surprise.

“For what?” You frowned carefully.

“For putting my father’s compass away.” Coryo hummed, fingertips trailing down the shell of your ear, over your own earrings- clusters of diamonds and emeralds, not cheap freshwater pearls like the other, a stark difference between the two of you.

“For being kind to me, always.” His eyes met yours, icy even in the burn of affection. “So forgiving and gentle.”

You blushed, cheeks burning in his hold, heating the palm of his hands. He grinned, lips brushing over yours, taking you in slowly. A soft kiss that crescendoed into a passionate one, pressed into the wall, hands grabbing, fisting at the others clothes, hair. Shoving and pulling clothing, limbs, breathy whines and whispers into your skin, his skin. Fingers intertwined with every thrust of Coryo between your legs, teeth grazing over your delicate pulse points, primal.

The earring stayed on the floor, discarded like his feelings for Lucy Gray- for now, anyways.

Coriolanus stood over the earring the next morning, the light of the day catching the bits of gold in its rays. Coryo’s jaw set, tongue running over his teeth. In the mirror of the hall, he could see you- still in the bed, sprawled onto the pillows after he’d had you that morning, rougher than the night before.

Memories of Lucy Gray flashed before him, how she’d never let him do the things he wanted to with her, never let him be himself- not like you. You embraced him, every part of him, welcomed it and celebrated it, where she had rejected it.

A polished shoe hovered above the earring, Coryo’s body weight pressing down fully, satisfied with the crunch he felt under his sole. A snap, a crumbling and shattering of pearls, the thin gold snapping in half, leaving a shattered disaster under his feet. The earring was her mother’s, and her mother’s before her, passed down through her family. Now, destroyed, discarded, and forgotten just like her family.

Just like Lucy Gray.

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lumenemporium · 2 years

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Tainted Heart

A new heart is available on my Etsy shop. This is inspired by Jormag, an elder dragon from Guild Wars 2, and by its corrupted magic: while shaping Winter Heart, I’ve tried to dye it with purple and blue inks and this came out, so my mind ran to the corrupted ice blocks, and to some hidden passages scattered through the Shiverpeak Mountains, where you can see how a new corrupted magic of ice and vines is slowly growing. Everytime I create some GW inspired project, I remember of how beautiful Tyria is, and how much art and effort there is in every artwork, in every breathtaking land you can travel.

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torukmaktoskxawng · 4 months

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Could you do 57, 65, and 69 for Neteyam x Metkayina reader who assists tsireya and aonung in teaching the sullys but while doing so she wants to also learn their ways :) Oh! And how about Reader making traditional courting jewelry for Neteyam (after asking for help from Jake and Neytiri duhh)

#57: Validation/Affirmation/Identity, #65: Promise/Pinky Swear, #69: You Remembered

Pairing: Neteyam/Metkayina!Fem!Reader

Warnings: identity crisis, fluff, blood, time skips, near-death experience, young love

Taglist: @neteyamsl0ver @mooniequeen

A/N: I do apologize if I don't fulfill the full request since I had a similar prompt for Lo'ak and I didn't want the brothers to have similar stories. Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~

While Lo'ak, Kiri, and Tuk adapted and thrived in Awa'atlu, Neteyam wasn't as successful.

As the firstborn and brought up as the once-future olo'eyktan, Neteyam was raised off of Omatikaya culture and nothing else. He was raised to be a warrior and a leader, taught by the many other leaders of his clan. Both his parents and his grandmother taught him everything they knew and more. He loved it and was passionate about his people's lifestyle, so he struggled to learn anything else, much like his mother.

Both Neytiri and her oldest felt so out of place among the Metkayina, always homesick and mourning their former lives, now changed forever. Now that Tarsem replaced Jaked as the Omatikaya's chief, Neytiri would no longer be tsahik after Mo'at and Neteyam would never become olo'eyktan. Everything he was taught, all that hard work and striving for perfection... no longer mattered.

Neteyam felt as though he didn't belong among the reef people, but his siblings clearly weren't in the same boat. Tsireya was an excellent teacher and Lo'ak clung to every word she said. It also didn't hurt how close he had gotten with the chief's daughter to the point where he was always given one-on-one lessons with her. Once Ao'nung and Lo'ak got over their differences, they actually became good friends and Rotxo was never far behind.

Neteyam's sisters also thrived in Awa'atlu and found friends in Rotxo, Ao'nung, and Tsireya. To none of the Sullys' surprise, Kiri was a natural swimmer and deep-diver who barely struggled with holding her breath. And while Tuk was young and inexperienced, she was still young enough to relearn how to survive and adapt to this new lifestyle. By the time she's Neteyam's age, she'll be a far more skilled Metkayina than her older brother could ever hope to be.

It was such an uncommon feeling-- for Neteyam to be the odd one out. He had always fit in with the people around him, while his siblings... not so much, but he never loved them less for it and he always tried to understand their emotions. Now, finally, he fully understood how they felt to be the outsider.

Those thoughts always vanish, however, whenever he is in your presence.

Adamant on teaching the Sully children alongside Tsireya, you had grown fond of Neteyam almost immediately. At first, you spent one-on-one time to help him catch up with his siblings' progress. As his teacher, Neteyam found that he was able to focus and absorb the information whenever it was just you and him. He learned how to hold his breath underwater, ride an ilu, the sign language, the tulkun songs, and it was all because of you, his savior.

As your friendship bloomed, Neteyam opened up more about his clan and their way of life, which always piqued your interest. By the time he came to terms with his feelings for you, he also began to share his inner thoughts, how he initially felt like an outsider among the Metkayina and a little envious of his siblings since they managed to adapt so quickly.

"That is ridiculous," you scoff good-naturedly as you sit beside him on the beach one night, "You will always be the son of Toruk Makto, but you are also one of us now. There's no shame in missing what you lost back home. Your friends, your status, and the life you loved, but that doesn't mean you can't love the new life you're starting here. There's no harm in change. Take the ocean for example."

He watches as you dip your hand into the wet sand, letting the shallow water spill into the crevice of your palm. The glowing algae once swimming in the water now swirled in your hand in a way Neteyam could only imagine pixie dust would look like based on his father's stories from Earth.

You lift your hand up and watch as the glowing water falls through the cracks of your fingers, shimmering as it splashes back down into the ocean, "It's always changing and it never stays in one place. When the tide takes you out, you're not supposed to fight it. You have to swim alongside it or you will drift away. Do not fight change, Neteyam. Let it happen. Your brother mentioned a saying from the Sky People and I think perfectly encapsulates what I am trying to say. 'Go with the flow.'"

You weren't expecting the laugh that jostles from Neteyam's chest, but you welcomed it all the same, smiling victoriously at getting him to laugh. It was a deep sound in his throat, and he looked so free and relaxed, the sight made your stomach warm. Once he recovers, he smiles back at you, loosely and genuinely.

"Thank you, Y/n."

You nod, jutting your chin out with confidence, "Just wait. You'll be a warrior among us sooner than later, just as you are with the Omatikaya. I am sure of it."

"Pinky swear?"

Your brow ridge furrows, tilting your head in confusion, "What?"

"Oh, right," Neteyam breathes a small laugh as a thought dawns on him, "It's a human thing. Alien custom. You link your smallest fingers together to form a sacred vow-- a promise, and after that, you can't break it. It works for people with extra fingers, like Lo'ak and Kiri. Our father taught us."

He clenches one hand into a fist except for the last finger, his smallest. You stare oddly at his hand before staring down at your own, mimicking the same movement and pointing only with your smallest finger, "What happens if you break the promise?"

"... You know, I don't actually know," Neteyam sheepishly admits, bowing his head to hide the embarrassment on his face, "My father can be timid sometimes so I just never bothered to find out."

You hum but don't question it further, allowing Neteyam to lock your small fingers together. Despite the weird custom, it made your face warm to feel the heat of his body so close to yours, your fingers linked together to seal a sacred vow.

~~~~~~~~~

As this unspoken thing progressed between you and Neteyam, the Sky People were closing in on the Sullys' location. Eventually, war came to the reef and you and the other reef children got caught up in it after following Lo'ak and his siblings to save Payakan. Things took a turn for the worse and suddenly you find yourself kneeling on a slippery rock surface before Neteyam, desperately trying to help Lo'ak as you both press your hands into the older boy's chest to stop the bleeding. The sight haunted you as Neteyam's eyes wildly looked around, appearing unable to focus on just one person as he struggled to breathe, his body going into shock. He was shivering from head to toe but not quite cold, gasping for breath even though he wasn't drowning. Even as tears blurred your vision, you didn't dare draw your hands away, stomping down the fear of losing Neteyam and instead replacing that fear with determination to save him.

You, Lo'ak, and the human known as Spider worked as a team, following Toruk Makto's instructions and doing whatever Tsireya told you to do with her knowledge of healing. By the time Neytiri had managed to find her family in the chaos of the battlefield, the bleeding had begun to slow. Even though you had saved Neteyam a little more time, you weren't out of the woods yet. Neteyam needed real healing from Ronal and at the same time, Kiri and Tuk needed rescuing from the ship of metal the Sky People sailed on. Both Sully parents were conflicted about what they should do until you and Tsireya took control of the situation. Together, you two convinced Jake and Neytiri to go rescue their daughters while you swore to take the unconscious Neteyam back to the village. They expressed their gratitude before taking off, and then Lo'ak and Spider helped you and Tsireya get Neteyam onto an ilu. You girls took Neteyam to Ronal while the boys stayed behind, not wanting to go back until they knew Kiri and Tuk had been safely rescued.

The rest of the Sullys returned to Awa'atlu hours later, tired but mostly unharmed and desperate to see their son and brother. To their shared relief, you and Tsireya had brought Neteyam to the tsahik just in time, and Ronal held Neytiri after the crying mother was reassured that her son would live.

It was hard for you to visit Neteyam as time went on. He had woken up a week after the Sky People were defeated, but he was constantly surrounded by his family so you didn't think your presence was needed. You didn't want to crowd him any more than he already was, constantly looked after by his loved ones while he healed. It was torture for you, knowing that he was safe but still haunted by the memory of his blood on your hands. You hadn't seen him in so long and you needed to be sure he was whole and on the way to recovery. You needed to see him with your own two eyes and so finally, you gained the courage to approach Toruk Makto and his mate.

After everything you have done for Neteyam and their family, Jake and Neytiri were more than happy to make sure you had some time alone with Neteyam to talk and catch up. They took their other children away for the afternoon and flashed you small smiles of encouragement, silently offering some good luck.

Neteyam looked up from his cot upon hearing the sound of someone entering his family's kelku, and seemed genuinely surprised by who stood in the doorway, "Y/n?"

You faintly smile, his voice saying your name sounded like a soft lullaby you haven't heard in so long. You move over to the cot and kneel before him, scanning his face. Apart from the bandages wrapped around his chest, he looked like himself, "You look better."

You immediately flush with embarrassment when those words leave your lips and you instantly backtrack, "I mean-- I just-- I'm glad that you are on the mend."

Instead of appearing offended, Neteyam's forehead wrinkles as he peers up at you with concern in his voice, "Where have you been? I was worried."

Both happiness and shame battle in your gut, touched that he was worried about you but guilty for not seeing him sooner to ease both of your pain. You lower your voice to a whisper, bringing your hand to brush a braid out of his face, "I'm sorry. I didn't think you needed someone else at your bedside. You have so many people who love you and want to see you get better, so I wanted to give you some air to breathe. I'm sorry. I won't do that again unless you ask me."

He catches the hand you used to push aside his braid and takes your fingers in his before you can pull away, bringing your hand to rest on the side of his face. He leans into your palm, murmuring against your skin, "I missed you."

"I missed you, too," you exhale shakily, tears beginning to brim in your eyes, but they were out of joy and relief, "I... I'm so happy you're awake. I have something for you."

You don't pull your hand away, wanting to keep touching Neteyam's face, his skin warm and alive beneath yours. You use your free hand to grab the item you placed on the floor beside you and hold it up for the forest boy to see. Neteyam tilts his head up to take a look and his eyes widen in shock.

Beads carved from trees, not shells, the fiber stripped from plants on land, not from the seaweed floating underwater. All of it was woven into an intricately made armband that was clearly inspired by Omatikaya fashion.

You place the band in Neteyam's free hand, his eyes still wide as his thumb traced over the pattern. He wets his bottom lip and blinks, still shocked while trying to form words, "What...?"

"I hope it's to your liking," you explain even as the heat rises to your face, "Your mother and father helped me make it."

Whatever you said must have been the right answer as a smile suddenly blooms on Neteyam's mouth, "It reminds me of my clan. Of home."

He could only describe whatever he was feeling in his chest as warmth and love, taking over whatever soreness he was still feeling from his wound. He looks away from the armband and peers up at you with a wordless question in his eyes. Warmth spreads in his stomach when you understand his silent question and you assist him in putting on the armband without another word. It fit perfectly on him, and it was even better knowing that you made it.

"Thank you, ma'tìyawn. This means so much to me," his head and ears began to lower in shame, "I'm sorry I didn't make anything for you."

"It's alright," you whisper gently, swallowing a small cry that threatens to escape as you shakily exhale, "I... I would rather have you alive than a piece of jewelry."

He immediately moves to comfort you, staying on his back knowing that his mother would scold him but taking your hand in his once again and placing a kiss in the center of your palm, "Once I'm healed, I would like to ask your family for their permission to court you officially. I want to make proper jewelry for you, one that perfectly resembles your own clan."

A darker shade of blue crept over your face but you were too happy to notice, bashful yet relieved that your feelings were reciprocated, "Once you are healed, you can do so."

"And... And I want to take you back to the forests where I grew up," he admits quietly, "I want to introduce you to the Omatikaya, all my friends and family back home. I don't think we would be able to stay there because of the war, but I want to bring you for a visit."

You beam with wonder and excitement, stomach flipping at the thought of future plans being made with your young lover, "I would love to go meet your clan. We will go when there is time."

Then, you lift a hand up to him, pointing out the last finger on your hand as you confidently declare, "Pinky promise."

His expression melts into a sweet, fond smile, carefully lifting his hand up and linking your smallest fingers together, "You remembered..."

~~~~~~~~~

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angelshadowsinger · 1 year

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Supposed to Be Together {part 1}

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Azriel x f!reader 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.2k 𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲: angst, smut 𝐊𝐞𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: drinking, Az being dumb & in denial, drunk sex, unprotected sex 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 . 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴, 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞:

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯 𝘈𝘊𝘖𝘛𝘈𝘙 𝘦𝘹𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘐𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧𝘧, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘺 & 𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘨𝘯𝘪𝘻𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘵 100% 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘶𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘔𝘢𝘢𝘴’ 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘭𝘰��. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘰𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘕𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘊𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘴𝘰 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦. 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘥𝘫𝘢'𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦. 𝘈𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥 (𝘪'𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘰 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘹 𝘪𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳)

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇʟᴏᴡ ꜱɪᴘʜᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

The view from the House of Wind never failed to leave you breathless.

Velaris twinkled brightly below, city lights reflecting off the Sidra as the warm summer wind tickling at your exposed skin. The sun was dipping below the horizon now, only a thin trail of scarlet bleeding into the indigo of the Night Court sky. Above, stars already blinked and glimmered, a crescent moon hung proudly above.

The strong, swift beat of wings neared, and suddenly Mor and Nesta appeared above the wall of the balcony, each snug against Cassian’s absurdly broad chest. The two women were already donning their evening attire, jewels sparkling both their decolletages, looking near reminiscent of the stars that you had just been studying.

Mor set sight on you immediately, skipping out of the war general’s grasp and pouncing on you. Her hair was curled in pretty waves and her lips painted a bright red that complimented the fiery orange dress snug on her hips. “Hello my sweetest,” she greeted, almost planting a kiss on you but you swerved back with a stifled laugh, pointing to her lips. She laughed, sending an air-kiss your way instead.

“Hi Mor. You look beautiful as always,” you said honestly. You’d known the female for quite some time now and it was only once you’d seen her looking worse for wear– the night she had tried to conquer a foreign green alcohol that burned your nose with but a tentative sniff.

Turning to the other blonde, you did not fail to notice the slight flush in her cheeks as her eyes flitted away from Cassian’s, clearly amused by something her mate had communicated to her. It was only fair, given that the event that had the Inner Circle going out for the evening was their anniversary after all. The Illyrian gave you a friendly wave and shouted hello, which you returned.

A navy dress hugged his mate’s figure and a long slit ran up her toned leg, gold jewelry spindling around her wrists and pointed ears. “Nesta, the lady of the night,” you acknowledged, “You look incredible.”

She gave a small smile at your appraisal. “Thank you, Y/N. You look nice, too.”

It wasn’t the most amazing compliment, but you’d take it. Especially seeing as it had come from Nesta, the viper. She had calmed down since mating her male years ago, but the nickname still stuck, and you didn’t doubt that her bite could still be just as wounding as it once was.

It was then that Mor’s fingers trailed down your forearm, sending a shiver through you and making you turn to look at her. Her gaze was currently running over the ensemble you were sporting, shining with approval at the deep violet gown that delicately draped off your shoulders and the pink sapphire necklace that followed the dip into your exposed cleavage. “Mmm, mmm. Drunk me is going to have a hard time resisting such a snack later. You know I get the drunchies,” she said, a hint of mischief in her tawny orbs. Then adding in a lower voice, “And I doubt I’ll be the only one having a hard time controlling themselves…”

She coughed as your elbow immediately jabbed her ribs. Mor was the only one that you had actually told about your relation to the mysterious spymaster of the Inner Circle.

Ever since your apprenticeship with the renowned healer Madja had started, the higher-ups of the Night Court who so often required her services had taken keen interest in you. All of them were much friendlier than you had expected– almost more of a surprise to you than the carefree, blossoming city of Velaris. You were not of the Night Court lands, but now they felt like home to you.

The Morrigan was the fastest friend you made, her honest nature pacifying the wariness that clung to you upon your arrival. Rhysand had attempted to befriend you first, but the sheer promise of power rippling off of him had you shrinking at the sight of him, so he allowed his friends to win you over first. Cassian was crucial in showing you that the High Lord was no threat to you, his chipper outlook wearing down the half-hearted walls you had built around yourself. Feyre also helped, who you grew closer with when you were sent to shadow her pregnancy check-ups with Madja. Many hours filled with warm vulnerability melted your frosty facade, and you bonded over the knowledge that you both had scars from your trauma, even if that acknowledgement was unspoken between the pair of you. She had even offered you a permanent position in the city, if you so desired it after your learnings with the sage healer were at a close. Once you were comfortable with her, Rhysand made your good list– if he was her mate, and if he treated her so lovingly, then surely he was not to be feared after all. Amren was… still a bit scary to you, but she was never malicious or meaning ill-will. Just unsettling.

Last was Azriel.

He was not present when you first arrived, and remained away during the first week of the Inner Circle’s efforts to woo you. But when he did finally arrive… you nearly swooned at first sight of him; the most handsome male you had ever laid eyes upon. It only got better when he opened his mouth, and his gentle, kind welcome pushed you off the cliff- falling, you began falling for him then. After that, he continued to treat you with such respect, and quiet thoughtfulness, that before you knew it, he was the one you began choosing to spend your free time with. One on one, he was still just as sweet, but he also showed you that he could tease, and jest, and he could be downright hilarious when he wanted to be.

It was only two weeks ago that your newest discovery had occurred.

You had been walking through the gardens with him, a common occurrence for the two of you when he was home and off-duty, when he had flown up to the top of your favorite magnolia tree, and plucked the fattest, most beautiful blossom from the highest branch. He landed gracefully in front of you, leaning down and wordlessly offering it to you, a soft smile gracing his lips, eyes warm, and maybe even the tiniest bit of pink tinging his cheeks. It was then that the bond snapped into place.

For you, anyway.

While you had nearly fallen on your ass in shock, disbelief– elation– he merely caught you and looked at you with concern. You hadn’t been able to form words to explain what had just happened to you, wide eyes taking in the male before you– the strong, observant, mild-mannered protector of the court– your male. Your male, with Illyrian tight leathers flush against his firm body, scarred hands holding you so softly, yet you knew his grip would never falter if he believed you not well enough to stand on your own. He would take care of you, he would treat you so well, he would…. He would, once he knew of the bond. Once the bond presented it to himself, then you’d see. Because, there was no way you were going to tell him what had just happened to you, not really. Not when he had become your closest friend, and all your hopes and dreams were suddenly pinned to him. That was just too much to put on him, not then… So you waited. Told yourself you would tell him soon, just not yet… And suddenly two weeks had gone by, and you still had yet to breach the subject.

Mor looked at you with a gentler gaze, sensing your frayed emotions and swiftly connecting the dots. Obviously you were conflicted on the subject, and she chose to dismiss it instead of prying. “Sorry,” she apologized, whispering almost. “First drink on me, okay?”

Immediately you shut out the thoughts of your bond, nodding and putting a smile on. “It’s okay. But I will definitely take you up on that.” You winked at her and she grinned, taking your arm and leading you from the balcony into the common area.

Cassian and Nesta had already meandered inside, now standing by the grand table in the center of the space. The sconces were lit, the glimmer of magic filling the warm space and inviting you inside further. A fire crackled in the hearth, the scent of a meat-pie that must have been dinner lingering in the air, laden with foreign spices that made your nose tingle.

“Glad you ladies could join us,” Cassian said, brows high as he gestured to the tray in the middle of the dining table. There were five shot glasses there, two empty already. The other three were filled to the brim with a clear liquid which you could only guess would surely taste terrible on your sober tongue. Beside it, a crystal container filled with more, ready for refills.

You glanced around as Mor strode forth, unnerved. Nesta had an uncharacteristically amused smile on her pretty lips, her face relaxed as she took a sip from the half-empty glass she held. Amren was nowhere to be seen, and Rhys and Feyre were absent as well– nothing uncommon these days since they did have a small child after all, and another on the way.

But it was always him, the subdued spymaster who now rose from his seat beside the hearth, who you were hoping to see. Azriel looked especially mouth-watering tonight, his dark hair freshly cut and kissing the tops of his ears, dark navy shirt tight across his firm chest, tattoos peeking from the collar and the sleeves rolled halfway up his strong forearms. You tried to look away, feeling like you had become engulfed by the flames licking the iron gate at the edge of the hearth as his hazel eyes raked up and down, and then back up your visage.

The only clue to his approval was a slight twitch of the long, sleek wings behind him, and that could’ve meant anything. Though you had thought you looked good, so obviously he had to like the sight… right?

He walked toward you and smiled just a little, head bowing slightly. His shadows slowly curled toward you in greeting as well, a dark train behind him. “Hello Y/N,” he stated, then nodding to Mor. “Mor.” Deft fingers latched onto one of the remaining shots and he threw it back with ease, not even wincing as the alcohol was instantly drained.

Cassian eyed him with some sort of emotion you couldn’t quite decipher before it was gone. Then he was refilling his and Azriel’s cup. “And what are you two waiting for, then?” He barked, amusement abundant in his strong voice.

Mor and your eyes met, she rolled hers to the heavens, and then shrugged, grabbing her shot as well. You sighed, wondering why these ancient relics always had to go straight for the liquor, not even a chaser present for your poor taste buds. This night would surely be anything but dull.

⸻

There had been multiple rounds of shots before your small party of five left the House of Wind, and though the two men had definitely had more, you, Mor, and Nesta had all sufficiently been toasty as you made your way through the threshold of the bar.

Rita’s was, once again, the place to be on a weekend evening in Velaris.

Mor was already flirting with the bartender within two minutes of entry, getting that drink she had promised you as you wandered through the throng of partiers, toward the elevated side of the venue where the reserved tables stood. Rhys had long ago reserved a table for his Inner Circle on any given day of the week, and the bouncer nodded at the four of you as you made your way to it. Azriel kept a subtle arm out, ghosting behind your waist as club-goers pressed just a bit too close for his liking.

Cassian slid into a wide stool on the other side of the booth first, allowing you and Nesta to take the booth. Azriel contemplated fitting into the booth, but ultimately chose to sit beside his brother in favor of not crushing his wings. Just as the usual containers of various juices and little water bottles appeared in the center of the table, Mor slid into the booth beside you and shoved a top-heavy glass into your hand. She gave a taller, wider glass filled with a sparkling dark red concoction to Nesta who thanked her, keeping the other glass of fizzy yellow to herself.

“None for us?” Cassian hit the table, the ice in the bucket rattling.

Azriel frowned, waving a hand over the space before him and summoning more shot glasses, another pitcher of liquor appearing adjacent to it. Nimble hands made quick work of the shots, passing one to his brother before that striking gaze met yours and he clinked his glass against the one in your hand. He sent it back, and you couldn’t help but watch the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, his sharp jaw pronounced in the flashing colored lights of the club.

It didn’t take long for you to start feeling borderline drunk. Whatever was in the swirling purple cocktail Mor had handed you was packing a punch– either that or the four shots you downed before the flight over here were settling in. You drained the rest of your glass. A drop escaped the corner of your lip and ran down your chin, splattering onto the soft swell of your breast, a torrid hazel gaze following the movement with scrutiny. Catching the look, your body moved on its own volition, and you stood abruptly, the tops of your thighs skimming the edge of the table.

All eyes shot to you as you proclaimed, “So who wants to dance?”

You couldn't manage to look at Azriel again, so you turned to Mor instead, who was looking up at you with nothing but pure amusement. But it was actually Nesta, on your other side, who piped up that she would love to. If your decree had been a surprise, Nesta’s was the shock of the century. But you wouldn’t let it go to waste, and Mor was on the same page as you, the three of you hurrying off to find a spot on the dancefloor.

The club-goers parted as they welcomed you– parting for the three beautiful women entering the center of the room as the bass blasted and upbeat melodies thrummed through your bones. You swore you could feel its return, his hot gaze slinking all around your body, but you forced him out of your mind, not wanting to dampen your mood with the premise of your upcoming responsibilities nor your potential delusions. The shadowsinger could have absolutely anyone he wanted in Velaris– actually, it had been hinted he had already had quite a few in the city, though he’d looked outright deadly at the mention of that from his brothers’ lips. So why were you fated for him? There was surely some other person who could better suit him. The notion irked you and you let out a snarl that turned more into a war-cry for your dancing.

Mor was flipping her hair and moving her arms around herself sensually beside you. Nesta had actually gone so far as to throw her hips into circles right before yours, almost grinding onto your lap. You took it upon yourself to sway and let your fingers run through your hair, showing off your smooth skin and letting your head fall back as you felt the music call to you.

It was quite a show the three of you were putting on, song after song your trio swirled and traded places with each other, staving off any males who attempted approach.

Cassian was not disturbed by the number of lustful gazes his mate was collecting, eyes gleaming with pride and possession as he studied Nesta’s body from afar. But Azriel was quietly fuming beside him, his shadows screeching with fury as a fae male eventually managed to reach your side, sliding a hand around your waist. His gaze was daggers on the suitor, who seemed unphased by the brooding Illyrian in the distance. Nesta moved over to Mor then, observantly giving him space to slide into when you didn’t immediately reject him.

Without taking his glare off the male, Azriel messily poured another shot for himself, threw it back, and then immediately filled another. Finally his brother’s attention snuck over to him, warily monitoring as the shadowsinger tossed back yet another drink. He eyed the shadows, which were bunching and flicking with displeasure around the perimeter of him, then warned, “Az, maybe you should slow down.”

Azriel grimaced, ice cold as he watched you press a palm to the male’s chest, leaning in to whisper something in his ear. “Why ever should I, brother? Does your mating not call for celebration?” His grip was so tight he nearly shattered the glass, but then your suitor’s eyes widened comically, and he scampered away into the crowd, leaving you alone. He felt like he could breathe again, and he sat back slightly, ruffling his wings as if shaking off the tension that saddled them just moments ago.

Cassian watched his brother, noted the gaze that was zeroed in on you, on your every move. He had an inkling for a while before now, but it was hard for him to watch Azriel pretend like he didn’t want to be anything more with you when you looked at him the same way. Before he could impart any words of advice, you were slinking up to the table, glazed eyes magnetized on the spymaster. Cassian wondered if you even knew he was sitting there as well.

“Az, will you dance with me?” you asked, hands behind your back, it made your curves look absolutely irresistible in that violet number.

Cassian was shocked, sure his mouth had fallen on the floor, interest piqued. This was one of the best anniversary presents he ever could’ve asked for, second only to Nesta’s gown strewn on the floor of their room in just a few hours. On one hand, his brother never danced. Maybe only a handful of times had he witnessed such a sight, and that had only been bits and pieces, from nights he barely remembered. On the other, he was sure that you had an absolute hold on the spymaster– if you so much as batted your eyelashes and asked for him to fetch the stars for you, he certainly would.

He had to reign in his scream of glee when Azriel responded, “Of course.”

Even drunk, the shadowsinger was adept. He weaved through the crowd, following you and pointedly ignoring the lingering glances of the crowd, glances that wandered from your elegant radiance onto him– at the powerful aura and ominous shadows rolling off his broad shoulders, his stunning face, or the daunting wings that loomed behind him.

When you found a spot with ample space, your hips started moving on their own accord, and Azriel’s followed suit. Not touching, the two of you filled the space and watched each other, eyes wandering around each other’s bodies unabashedly. Azriel couldn’t help but puff his chest up at the desire that swirled in your glossy orbs, the approval shining from you as you took in the way his body moved before you, his cool cedar scent luring you closer. The alcohol that coursed in his blood allowed him to be bold, and he carefully placed a hand at the bottom of your spine, pulling you into him. The action was welcomed and he tried not to be too excited about your proximity, how the sweet smell of you twirled into his nose and made his brain become a puddle around his feet.

He had never been so close to you– not like this– and never with his guard so low, nearing absent. Never had the marred skin of his palms held your hips, the curve of your ass brushed his thigh, never had you given him that sultry gaze beneath kohl-coated lashes, never had he been so damn hard in a public space like this.

“You look so beautiful tonight.” It slipped out of him like he was possessed, unaware the words had even left him along with the husky whisper of your name.

But that made you smile at him, near bashful at his compliment, your heart slamming in your chest, begging, aching for more of his praise.

It was as if he could hear what your body so desperately desired, for Azriel then murmured, “You are beautiful every night. Every day… agonizingly so.”

His grasp on you was gentle, and suddenly it was all you could feel– he was all you could feel, the music and the crowd blurring around you. He was looking at you with such intensity that your body was singing, your lips parted but no words able to leave you. All you wanted to do in that moment was bridge the gap between his mouth and yours. It took all the willpower in your being to stop yourself from doing so, your mate’s gaze piercing you to the dancefloor while the two of you stood still, just looking at each other.

“Thank you, Azriel.”

Those meager words were all you could get out, too paralyzed to come up with anything better. Honestly, you were surprised you even said anything at all, for fear of confessing your love and your bond right here to him and everyone in the room, drunk and breathless in the middle of Rita’s.

Azriel seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in at the sound of his name on your tongue, blinking and grip loosening on you. His cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink before his shadows came to cover him, and he coughed awkwardly. “I, um…” he mumbled, stepping back from you and the obvious shock painted on your face, “I’ll get us some more drinks.”

Just like that, he was gone, and the crowd surrounding you seemed to come back into your awareness. You noticed the gazes of Cassian and Nesta settled on you from across the room then, one of befuddlement and the other displeasure. But you didn’t even have a second for the mortification to wash over you, as Mor materialized before you instantly, grabbing your hand and leading you deeper in the crowd. She gave you an inquisitive look once the pair of you had found shelter behind the masses, but didn’t push it, noting the confusion that settled your features even as your body moved to the rhythm once more.

⸻

For the next hour or so, you danced with Mor, and Nesta and Cassian came to join you at some point as well. The Illyrian looked like he wanted to say something to you, but was rendered unable both from the noise of the club and also his mate who had positioned herself between you two. You knew Azriel was stationed at the table, but couldn’t bring yourself to look over at him, even though you were becoming thirstier by the minute and knew he had a drink awaiting you. At some point Mor had wandered back over to the bartender, now with her full rack resting atop the bar and in deep, seemingly-seductive conversation by the way she was looking at them. And even if the couple beside you were well-intentioned, you refused to burden them with your loneliness, finally wishing them congratulations on their anniversary and excusing yourself.

The shadowsinger sat up slightly as you came closer, the evidence of his drinking overt; two crystal carafes stood empty beside a third that was half-full, tiny pools glistening on the tabletop where they missed his glass.

“Is that for me?” you asked as you slid into the seat opposite of him, nodding to the bright cocktail that stood alone at the booth side of the table.

He nodded in return, fingertip tracing the edge of his tiny cup, silky hair slightly disheveled and his eyes not quite as critical as usual. You thanked him quietly, taking a sip before a modest smile bloomed on your lips in unspoken appreciation at the familiar flavor of your favorite drink. The club was slightly spinning by the time the glass was drained, a drunken giggle escaping you at the light feeling that filled you.

Azriel smiled at you, your eyes closed and slowly swaying like grass in sweet summer wind. He did not regret his admission on the dancefloor, for it had been the truth. He just wished he was brave enough to tell you that without taking twenty shots– or however many he’d had– he’d stopped counting after twelve. Even though he was not at all sober himself, he could sense that it was time to get you home. It wasn’t unusual for him to bring you back to the House of Wind; night outings like this usually did end up the two of you as everyone else paired off. Yet for some reason, it felt different tonight. He couldn’t wait to scoop you in his arms and zip through the sky.

“Would you like to go home?” he said, watching amusedly when you opened your eyes and sent him a dazzling grin.

You agreed, “You always read my mind, Az.”

The tall male led you out to the front of Rita’s, catching his brother’s eye and nodding in farewell. A few other drunkards sat on the curb and passed something smoky between them, their low cackles echoing down the otherwise-quiet stone alleyway. The cool crisp smell of the night air washed over the pair of you, the stars still dangling high in the indigo sky. You inhaled deeply, Azriel doing the same as he walked you into the center of the street, wings growing and stretching. You watched as those wings shook the sleep from themselves, swelling the street with silky shadows as they unfurled, as if he had been keeping those at bay just as much. It was a gorgeous sight as he unfastened the top button of his shirt, another ring of tattoos peeking out at the middle of his chest. You could stare at him for ages.

Azriel reached out for you, his wings flapping a couple times to warm up. His gaze was bright, as if the incident inside hadn’t even occurred. But you were eager to feel his touch on you once more, so you skipped over to him instantly, practically jumping in his arms. You’d once worried that you were too heavy to do such things, but after flying with the Illyrian so many times now, you knew you were nowhere near his carrying capacity. He was absurdly strong, just like his brothers– seven siphons adorning his body and channeling the brunt of his power. For him, bringing you to the House of Wind was probably akin to the amount of energy you’d expend skipping a small rock across a placid stream, the whole ordeal over in three seconds.

Little did you know he planned to take the scenic route, if not just to feel you clutching onto him for a few moments longer.

The ground sucked out from underneath you as he sprang up into the night, and you stifled the excitable scream that always tried to escape. He only laughed as he found his place in the sky, the powerful beat of his wings seamlessly blending with the low moan of the wind. Once you had a better grip on him, and his arms secured around you tighter, you adjusted and laughed too– excitement coursing through you. It was such a rare sight, seeing the reticent shadowsinger smile at you unrestrained like that, carefree. All you could do was mirror him before he dove the two of you into the night.

Stars whipped past as he danced through the skies; black, fuschia, violet, and navy all swirling together above you. His shadows tickled at you gently, leaving a cool wake where they touched. Cerulean and cyan gleamed from the siphons on the backs of the hands that clutched onto you, and you catapulted forward suddenly. All you could do was latch onto the hard muscles that secured you as Azriel took you for a roller coaster ride.

He dove and looped and held onto you, relishing the feeling of your skin touching his, the smell of your hair that whipped around him– the feeling of you gripping him so hard– hard enough that maybe it would be enough for him to leave you alone once you arrived at the house instead of pressing you up into the balcony pillars and pleasuring you until you passed out, like he so deeply wanted to do.

The joyride could only go on for so long before it had to end; the two of you were still considerably drunk and only able to handle a few loop-de-loops on the journey. Azriel had managed to sneak in an extra minute or two of air-time, not wanting to risk your suspicion nor take advantage of you. The liquor was beginning to really hit him at full effect now, stumbling a bit as he landed on your balcony. It was only two extra steps, nothing major. But Azriel always flew with such precision that you knew you weren’t the only one feeling the alcohol.

Now that you were looking at him again, you found yourself mesmerized by his ethereal beauty. Long lashes pointed down to you as he continued to hold you, despite him now standing firmly in the middle of your balcony. Hazel eyes flicked over your face and he smiled just a little for you. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, you never really could– but he definitely had a great many thoughts flickering behind his gentle gaze.

You peeped as your back touched something, and you realized he had walked over to the chaise-lounge perched under the bow of your balcony– trying to set you down. You looked back at the chair and then at him. Dark brows knitted beneath his tousled hair as he loosened his grip, but you remained clinging to him.

Azriel murmured your name when he tried to deposit you there and you refused, again.

“Can you…” you whispered, reluctant to leave his embrace. It felt so good to have him touching you, and your inhibitions were at an all time low as your mate held you so dearly, his eyes filled with concern. “Can you put me on my bed, Az?”

The Illyrian blinked, wings ruffling before quickly tucking in. He pulled you up again and carried you inside your room, princess-style. It was how he always held you during flight, but somehow when his feet were on the ground it felt completely different… not quite as innocent.

Your room was lit with beams of moonlight pouring through the arched windows and sheer curtains, yet the male’s shadows flicked over the tips of the candles by your bed and they lit as he willed them to. It was spacious enough inside that your medicinal books and tomes spread out all over the area, along with your trinkets and clothes. The strong smell of you clung to the walls, the sofa, the bed. He had never been this deep into your room for this long before, and he was sure the alcohol wasn’t the only substance he was drunk on.

You savored the sight of him while he wandered toward your bed. You allowed yourself to dream of the day your male would know just what you were to him, and imagined he was about to ravage you instead of dump you and leave you in your big bed all alone. Your hips moved slightly against his front, and you closed your eyes in embarrassment as heat began to rush in between your legs. It wasn’t really wrong of you to be turned on by your mate, especially after drinking so much and dancing with him the way you had. But the bond was still your secret, and you didn’t know if Azriel even felt anything slightly like how you felt for him; if he had any inkling that you were made to be together.

You chanced one more look at him as he set you atop the soft duvet, fluffy pillows plush against your back. His inky hair fell between his eyes as he leaned forward and laid you down fully, sitting on the very edge of the bed and turning to draw the blanket at your feet up and over you before he left. His back muscles rippled through his shirt, pumped after flying for just a few minutes. Another tattoo teased you from the side of his neck, and at the muscled sight of him, you wondered if he knew that he was the sexiest male to ever exist.

He turned to you, leaving the fuzzy throw halfway up your exposed legs, a dark blush staining his cheeks as he looked at you incredulously. You blinked at him, not comprehending that you had just said that last thought aloud. He looked so incredibly flustered that it only took you a moment to realize your mistake, a hand slapping over your mouth as if that would somehow make him unhear your profession.

“I– I meant,” you gasped as you sat up on your elbows, breasts bouncing and sitting heavily on your chest at the sudden movement. Azriel glanced down at the action, the emotion wiping off his face and instantly an interested mask of cool was in its place. “I…” you stopped breathing as he leaned closer to you, his breath fanning your neck and his shadows curling around your ankles.

Azriel’s eyes were searing into you, burning the shape of your body into the covers you laid upon. The alcohol was giving him too much confidence, your praise soaking his bones with white-hot desire as he appraised your figure that was pressed between his hard body and the soft mattress. “Is that really what you think of me?” he inquired, the words tight, restrained. Are you sure, his eyes seemed to ask.

“Yes,” you answered immediately, the word rushing out of you before you could think to lie. Maybe that was how the victims of his spymaster tactics felt, too, under the scrutiny in his never-ending hazel gaze. But you couldn’t think about that now– couldn’t think about anyone else, because then Azriel was kissing you.

He crawled over you, caging your body under his large frame as his lips conquered yours. You were in too much shock, and too much bliss to refuse– moaning as his tongue wandered into your mouth, a rough hand gripping your waist as the other gripped onto the bend of your headboard, hard.

This was wrong.

Both of you knew it, deep down, but neither wanted to stop, and neither of you cared now. Your bodies were strung out, needing to be connected so terribly after spending so much time together with not so much as a single kiss. Now that you had had just a tiny taste of it, you couldn't control yourself any more. And Azriel wanted you, the evidence of it pressing into you through his pants and your dress.

On the same page, he groaned as he sat up, pulling you with him and his hands squeezing the plush of your thighs, shoving your dress up over your hips. You frantically unbuttoned his top, and he ripped the cloth off of him in impatience, cupping your ass and lifting you in one arm as he got rid of his pants with his free hand. You slipped forward so that your hips slotted over his, your slick panties rubbing against the thick, exposed length of him. The both of you gasped at the contact, and he quickly unzipped your gown and threw it over your shoulders into the darkness of your room.

Your tits spilled out against his broad, inked chest and he growled, hips bucking against yours and sliding his hard cock against your core. Your head tossed back and his mouth was instantly claiming the skin of your neck, licking there and teeth sinking in just hard enough for you to cry out. The liquor only made everything more intense, your skin exploding wherever he touched, kissed, sucked.

“Please Az,” you pleaded, desperate for more of him. He kissed you again, laying you back onto the pillows once more before he sunk down and sucked a nipple into his mouth. Your body writhed in his arms, pleasure shooting through you. His other hand wandered up the inside of your thigh, trailing closer to where you needed him.

He let out a delectable sound when the heel of his palm pushed into your clit through your panties, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your ass cheeks. He snarled as your wetness soaked his hand, your body ready for him to take you and claim you as his. Before you could beg again, his fingers slipped under the lace and he ripped the garment into shreds, exposing your dripping pussy to his greedy stare. All you could do was moan and arch your back, nipples stiff and body flushed, bare before your male.

Azriel dragged you to the bottom of the mattress, then sinking to his knees before you. He spread you before his face, inspecting the most intimate part of you that glistened just for him. The way he was looking at you made a new wave of embarrassment wash over you, but before you could complain, he was leaning into you.

“So perfect,” he said sincerely, not seeming to care as he took a deep breath of your arousal, eyes filled with a wicked glint. Tattooed arms slithered up under your thighs and scarred hands cupped your hips as his tongue roved over your pussy.

You were moaning unashamedly as he licked at you, kissing your clit and closing his eyes to savor the taste of you, recording each spot that had you crying out and giving them extra attention. Your body was shaking in his grasp, and you keened when his rough fingertips prodded your sopping hole. They slipped in, thrusting a few times before you were cumming, squirming and eyes rolling back. Those fingers retreated and rubbed the fresh slick along your slit, ensuring everything was nice and wet.

He stood then, cock tall and thick at the dip of the V between his hips. You tried to sit up to get a better look at it, eyes widening at the size of him and then realizing his wings had spread out behind him. Maybe that thing they said about wingspan was true after all.

“Come here,” he ordered and you shuffled down to the edge of the bed to meet him.

You got onto your hands and knees before him, and he raised a brow as he watched your hand wrap around him. His hips thrust forward and he sucked in a breath as you took him into your mouth. He was too big to fit all the way so you went down as far as you could, tongue caressing behind your lips as you pushed him in and out of your throat. Once enough saliva had gathered in your mouth you spat into your hands and twirled them around the base of him, ample length for them to jerk over. Syncing the churn of your hands with your mouth, Azriel began panting, hands tucking your hair back so he could watch your pretty lips slide over him. He only allowed you a minute before he tore you off of him, refusing to finish without feeling the heaven your sweet cunt had promised him as he tasted it earlier.

Desire pulsed through you as he tossed you onto your back and grasped your ankles, pulling you down so your core rested at the end of the bed, just inches away from his cock. He grabbed himself at the base, pointing the tip onto your hole and sliding the underside of it up and down your slit. Your body was tensing, twitching and trying to pull him inside you, where he was meant to be. “Az… Azriel I need you,” you sobbed, delirious.

Azriel complied with your wishes, pushing the tip of himself inside your wet pussy before gently thrusting in. Each measured swing of his hips buried him deeper inside of you and you were thrust into another dimension as he hit those sacred, secret spots deep within you. You began clawing at his back as your legs folded on either side of him, submissive to the onslaught of pleasure he was showering you in. You couldn’t think, could barely breathe as he pumped into you, your walls hugging tight around him, begging he never leave, trying to convince him to stay here forever. He was moaning into your clavicle, wings fluttering as he fucked you deep, sweat beginning to dribble down the black designs carved into his firm torso.

You couldn’t stop calling his name out, panting in his ear as your core took the shape of him. He was shuddering in pleasure, one hand cupping both your tits together and the other coming to curl around your back, hand supporting the back of your neck, pressing you closer to him. His tongue wrestled with yours again, thrusts becoming deeper, harder. Inked hips slapped against yours, the sound of your skin smacking mingling with both your ragged moans. You were close again, the passion in his gaze and his body’s pure intent surging with every thrust.

Suddenly his shadows joined, slithering onto the bed around you and securing your limbs to the blankets. They flicked over every inch of your skin, tasting you, as if committing the sight and the feel of you to memory. They swirled over your hips, the promise of pleasure whispering in your ears as they crawled toward your nipples and your clit. You cried when they stimulated you, Azriel’s gaze bright as he watched them ravish you, just as he’d always imagined. They intensified everything, and it only took a few more pumps of his throbbing cock inside of you to make you unravel. Your cunt squeezed him ruthlessly, crying as your orgasm surged through your body.

Azriel took in the sight of you, riding the ecstasy he had provided you with, and his own release came closer. He kept pushing into your slippery core, deep and hard now as his body begged him to finish inside you, for him to fill you up with his seed. He toed over the cusp of his climax, pressing his lips to yours as he uttered, “I love you,” and shot his load as deep as he could into you. His wings flapped a few times as he came, taut body shaking with euphoria.

Your heart swelled at his confession and you smiled, reaching for him to join you on the bed. He took you into his arms, holding you tightly against himself as he picked you up. His shadows brought forth a small, soft cloth and he held it underneath you as he pulled out of you, his essence dribbling out. You whimpered at the sensation, not wanting him to leave you just yet. But he set you back against the pillows once more, tucking your naked form under the covers and joining you there. He scooped your back into his chest, taking a deep breath of your scent from behind your ear. His wings hung off the side of your mattress slightly, his shadows forming a ring around the bed to guard your resting figures.

He fell asleep quickly, the scarred fingers trailing along your forearm falling slack as his breaths deepened. You savored every second you could, fighting your exhaustion until you had no strength left and peaceful slumber took hold of you.

“I love you too, Az…”

⸻

The chirp of sparrows on the balcony awoke you the next morning. Your head was pounding, your mouth parched and eyes bleary. Sun shone brightly into your room from the open curtains at the balcony, and you groaned, wondering if your magic could shoot the damn birds just so they’d shut up. Your stomach did not feel good either, an acidic burn at the bottom of your throat. You shifted, a hand coming to press at your forehead. Only you couldn’t– your arm was tucked under something warm and heavy.

Your eyes flew open.

Beside you was your mate, his naked chest on display as he laid asleep in your bed. His mouth was open just a crack, and his silky black hair was messy, his arm secure around you. Your heart shot into your mouth and you almost threw up in astonishment. You had spent the night together?

Oh god.

You had spent the night together.

Heat blazed your cheeks as you recalled last night’s events, recognizing the dull ache between your legs. Light bruises littered your curves, fingers wandering over a particularly tender spot in the dip between your neck and shoulder. The ghost of his touch still lingered on your skin, and it took you a moment to realize his shadows had come to say good morning to you, caressing your skin.

You glanced over at him, but he was still asleep. It was only once a shadow trailed off your arm onto his neck and up to his ear that he opened his eyes, gaze meeting yours instantly.

You pulled the sheet up over your cleavage a little better, wondering if there was any decency left for you to hide from him. “Good morning,” you blurted out, not sure what to say.

Azriel sat up swiftly, groaning as a hand flew to his forehead and he cradled it, obviously hungover just as you were. His wings stretched behind him and he dragged his palms down his face, swearing quietly.

You tried to calm down, your heart beating faster as the moment neared. You would have to talk about it now, right? Now that you had mated, didn’t he feel the bond in place? You didn’t remember what exactly had transpired last night, but surely he had to have discovered your bond. How could he fuck you and not have it snap into place for him?

“How do you feel?” you asked, watchful as you gripped the sheets with clammy hands.

The shadowsinger sighed, one of his shadows running up his palm and over his shoulders. “Like shit, to be honest,” he replied, and you couldn’t hide the disappointment in your eyes. He looked at you then, eyes dropping to your chest and then the sheet you were holding, then to his own body. He picked up the sheet and looked at his lap, eyes going wide as he glanced over at you again. “Y/N, we…”

You nodded slowly, watching his every move to figure out what he was feeling exactly.

Pink dusted his high cheekbones, gaze becoming apologetic. “I’m so sorry Y/N,” he started.

Suddenly your headache didn’t hurt so bad, and the nausea in your stomach heightened. “Why are you sorry?” You whispered, begging for him to be joking. He couldn't still not know…

Azriel frowned at your emotional gaze. “I… I don’t want to give you the wrong idea,” he continued, and it felt like he had just stabbed your heart. “I never should have touched you last night. We were drunk, it wasn’t right. I’m sorry.”

Rejection.

It was excruciating, as if Truth-Teller was carving your insides out.

“I see.” Your words were hollow now, but you couldn’t stop the words from falling from your lips. “Do you regret it?” You hated that it had slipped out, because you knew his reply would only hurt you even more.

The shadows around your hips dragged at you, crying as they were pulled away from you, their master slipping from the sheets, pulling on his pants. Azriel couldn’t look at you, avoiding your gaze as he fumbled around for his shirt.

“Did you mean it?” You asked quietly, so quiet Azriel almost didn’t hear it. You didn’t know if he knew what you were referring to, if he knew you were asking him if he loved you.

It didn’t matter, because he chose not to reply, slipping out of your door and leaving you to drown in melancholy. You had your answer.

𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘱. 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 8𝘬 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦. 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘙𝘌. 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 & 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥~ 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨!!^^

next part

#azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel x reader #azriel smut #azriel angst #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #angelshadowsinger #StBT series

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bumblebeesfromvenus · 6 months

Text

Renaissance!Leon headcannons 🩷☁️

A/N: I could not stop thinking about this. Enjoy my word vomit! At least it's pink..

~Fi 🐝

Warnings: horrendously historically inaccurate, FLUFF, disgustingly sweet, absolutely filthy too, NFSW content 17+, cunnilingus, PiV, creampie, cum eating, my love for Leon is a warning in itself.

Word count: 1.2k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

🎀♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡⚜️♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡🎀

Renaissance!Leon who makes sure you only get the best. Silks, velvet, expensive jewelry, the most beautiful gowns you could ever ask for and whatever else your heart yearns for. Luxurious bubble baths with rose petals, lavender oil and goat milk, while your chamber maid gently combs your hair.

Renaissance!Leon who treats you like an absolute goddess, he would do absolutely anything for you, no matter what. He feels like a madman sometimes with all the things he has done for you, and would do for you in the future.

Renaissance!Leon who loves taking off your corset. It's such a sweet and intimate moment, the feeling of the laces gliding over his fingers as he frees you from your prison. He places soft and loving kisses on every new inch of skin he exposes while unraveling the garment.

Renaissance!Leon who takes you to every event he can, solely to show you off. To show all those other noble bastards that you chose him, that you're his and he's yours. Not that they had a chance with you anyway.

Renaissance!Leon who has gotten into many fist fights and duels because a poor noble looked at you even a second too long. He's always victorious, of course, he knows his way around combat and rapiers.

Renaissance!Leon who was always a bit of a rebel, defying the orders of whoever, just because he could. His sense for freedom was one of the many things that made you fall for him.

Renaissance!Leon who loves to have little forbidden midnight rendezvous with you. Before he was officially courting you, you two used to sneak out, just you, the moonlit nights and all the love you held for each other.

Renaissance!Leon who has made love, not fucked, to you under the stars, just to show you much he truly cared for you.

Renaissance!Leon who loves to take you on outings, riding through a nice corner of nature on a sunny day, going on a walk through town and buying you new clothes and accessories, or having a cute picnic on the grounds of his huge estate.

Renaissance!Leon who loves waking up with you. The silky sheets draped around and over your figure while you're being illuminated by the morning sun makes you look ethereal in his eyes, like an Angel. He will watch you adoringly as your chest rises and falls with soft breaths while he litters gentle kisses over your skin.

Renaissance!Leon who loves the feeling of being buried underneath your many petticoats and skirts while he's taking you to heaven with his tongue, nestled between your thighs.

Renaissance!Leon who has fucked you over and on every surface in the house, he just can't help himself when you look so pretty all the time. He's still in the honeymoon phase and he will never leave it. He's addicted to you, his beautiful wife, and will forever shower you in his love and affection.

Renaissance!Leon who is so worked up from how you look, how you act, how you smell, that he just has to fuck you in the carriage on your way to a ball.

Renaissance!Leon who buries his face in your squished up tits, breathing in your intoxicating perfume. You have to stop him from sucking and biting marks on your supple skin, promising him he gets to do all of that later.

Renaissance!Leon who has you seated on his cock while he bucks his hips into you, the movement of the carriage making you bounce in his lap. He almost collapses at the sight, your face contorted in bliss while his entire lower half is covered by your new extravagant dress. One hand is on the back of his neck while your other is steadying yourself against the wall of the carriage as you subconsciously press him closer to your flush tits.

Renaissance!Leon who would love nothing more than to abandon the idea of going to this stupid ball just so he can hear you sing your symphonies of bliss for him until dawn.

Renaissance!Leon who loves the little gasps and whimpers that fall from your lips when he glides his tongue over your tits.

Renaissance!Leon who almost goes dumb when you clench around him, his head falling back and his breathing picking up. He damn near punched a hole in the carriage when you finally came undone around him, making him spill deep inside you not long after.

Renaissance!Leon who is so hot and bothered during the ball, because he just imagines how his cum drips out of you, staining the new silk skirt while you socialize like he just didn't fuck your brains out on the way here.

Renaissance!Leon who cannot concentrate on a single conversation which leads him to take you again in a little dark corner of the library, fucking you against one of the many bookshelves.

Renaissance!Leon who has the noble class wondering how you don't have 10 children yet with the way he's all over you constantly. The answer; Lemon tops.

Renaissance!Leon who basically rips your corset to shreds the second your back in your home. He's on his knees for you immediately, licking the trail of his cum off your thighs before he tastes you and fucks you with his tongue until you're light headed.

Renaissance!Leon who just loves you so fully, it makes your heart feel all fuzzy. Whether it's when you take a joined bath, his fingers gently caressing your skin or when he holds you close and whispers all kinds of sweet things in your ear.

Renaissance!Leon who assures you with absolute certainty that he loves every inch of you. Every stomach roll, every bit of chubbiness and fat that you believe to be in the wrong place (it isn't, and he will fuck those thoughts out of you if he has to), every stretch mark, every scar, every mole, all the body hair that you're unsure about, every little, fickle thing that is deemed imperfect, makes you even more perfect in his eyes.

Renaissance!Leon who cannot believe his luck sometimes. He doesn't know what he did to end up with you, this absolutely gorgeous woman who is so loving and kind and gentle with him. But he's so incredibly grateful each and every day, and he will continue to show you his appreciation.

Renaissance!Leon who loves fucking you, but there's nothing he loves more than to make love to you. Gentle, slow and sensual. Soft and sweet kisses, compliments and praises that make your heart (and pussy) flutter. He will pour his heart out to you while he's so deep inside of you, you can almost feel him in your throat.

Renaissance!Leon who has secretly dabbled in the arts of poetry, just for you. He's never been artistic but you, you made him feel like a lovesick fool, writing down the most cliché lines, purely because you moved him in a way nobody else had.

Renaissance!Leon who would die for you, and will protect you until he can't anymore. He's so grateful for the life you've shown him; that he's worthy of that life. He wants nothing more than to grow old with you and then do it all over again in the next life.

Renaissance!Leon who loves you with no exception. He lives for you, you make him have a purpose. He loves you more than the sun could ever love the moon.

🎀♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡⚜️♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡🎀

I will definitely make this a whole fic at one point, but I'm working on so many things right at the moment, I needed to quench my thirst somehow until I go Jane Austen on this <3 ~

#bumblebeesfromvenus #Renaissance!Leon #Renaissance!Leon Kennedy #resident evil leon #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon smut #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x you

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batterygarden · 1 year

Text

aot relationship hcs

Ft. Eren, Armin and Mikasa

Sfw but no minors on my page pls, these are miscellaneous and sillly.. I wrote them in a haze after my melatonin kicked in yesterday…like 1 or 2 suggestive ones in there

Eren

He plays basketball (he’s rlly good 😔) and if you come visit him on the court he dribbles the ball around you rlly aggressively like “try n block me!” and you just stare at him straight faced because he is exhausting

He is simply the most DRAMATIC man alive. Like if you don’t give him endless attention, hold his hand, climb on him, act borderline obsessed with him… he might explode. If you go 24 hours without playing with his hair he is wearing all black and mourning your lost love… cause you must just not care about him anymore!

He’s also kinda a neat freak… another opportunity for his dramatics. If you leave a dirty dish in the sink for more than half an hour he is turning up in a hazmat suit like baby…. i can’t handle how dirty the kitchen is rn. (He’ll do the dish for you)

Casual shoplifter even though he can truly afford all the things he steals

He probably commits tax fraud too

Bad driver but over confident as hell. Driving almost 50 in a residential like STOP :/

Also… hello mr oral fixation. He’s constantly got a necklace in his teeth or something… and that’s all fine and good till you find YOUR OWN PERSONAL BELONGINGS in your boyfriends mouth god. Like give me back my nice pilot G2 pen you animal >:(

Takes rlly long showers and uses up all the hot water AND your fancy conditioner. He is definitely one of those product stealer men…

He also borrows ur claw hair clips and never gives them back 😔

Randomly pretends to beat up the air in front of you u like put ‘em up!! And you’re never sure how to react. Like you’re standing there doing the dishes and he assumes fighting stance and starts punching ghosts till you give him attention.

Armin

Accidentally rolls his eyes ALL the time. Like he doesn’t even mean to his face is just automatically sassy when he disagrees w something. But he’s self aware. Sometimes he’ll do it and you’ll pause mid-sentence then he’ll catch himself like WAIT SORRY. I didn’t mean to do that. 😔

Makes you dandelion chains without you having to ask.. or puts dandelions and other wildflowers on you all the time… in your hair, in your pocket, in the little holes where your shoelaces go.

he’ll just fiddle w your things absentmindedly CONSTANTLY… he’s simply a fidgety guy!

Like you’re sitting in the grass talking to him and he’s nodding along like Mhm Mhm… while he repeatedly zips and unzips your bag… rolling up and unrolling the straps etc.

but sometimes the thing he is fidgeting with is YOU. Your hands are a favorite… especially your rings and any jewelry you may wear 😮‍💨 this man is having a field day spinning the metal around your fingers.

He’ll sometimes over explain things/accidentally go into extreme detail and you’ll tease him for mansplaining. But a lot of the time he’ll the OPPOSITE of mansplain things and use words way too big / poorly dumb down the most CONVOLUTED subjects and you’re like slow down there mr graduated college early 😔 .. say that again as if I were a 5 year old please

His sport of choice is… wait for it… track. Yeah this man’s a runner… occasionally a hurdler… he’s got stamina.. have u seen those CALVES when he’s the colassal ! Major swoon

Pretentious as hell ab the music he listens to. Gatekeeps even…. NO PUBLIC PLAYLISTS.

He gets bad anxiety the night before work and stuff… also picks apart social interactions after they happen… generalized anxiety disorder king!

He’s a gossip of course…. Literally will give you a million looks mid social gathering that say “we’ll dissect this later”

Does weird only child things every day without realizing

Like arranging the Tupperware a specific and less efficient way than you and getting mad when you don’t put yours away like he wants it

Or getting annoyed when you don’t burn his candles a very specific way that apparently is “more efficient” 🙁

He also NEEDS alone/recharge time… social stuff can get exhausting to him!

Mikasa <3

Good w cars… best with cars out of the three hands down… she’s your personal mechanic 🥺

She’s also miss quiet road rage over here.. she seems calm and collected but she is cursing the entire lineage of the minivan driver that just cut her off in traffic.

Eats up some reality tv… and is embarrassed about it 😔 she asks you not to tell people she’s rewatching season 10 of the bachelor rn

Aggressive as hell to ucky men in bars / clubs… or just in general

Like “back the fuck off before I beat your ass” kind of aggressive… very protective of you and any woman ever in these type of situations

& she has the skill to back up her talk!! This woman is a martial artist/ full time gym rat… she is *strong*. You need not worry about your safety no matter the situation when you’re with her.

Her critical nature towards men nicely contrasts how much she LOVES bimbos lmao. Extremely forgiving and patient towards bimbos… she’ll explain things to you so so gently.

She’s somewhat shy with direct flirting before you’re official… kinda nervous to ruin whatever dynamic you two had going on to begin with.. but once your feelings are out in the air this woman is getting a medal for her direct communication skills.

“I need you to hold me really tight right now, I’m feeling kind of anxious.”

“I want you to kiss me please! Need to feel your pretty lips”

“If we were alone right now I would have you fully ***** and ********* *** ** ** ****** ****.”

perpetually cold hands.. and she warms them by sticking them in YOUR shirt or even occasionally your pants. Just sticking em in there and then staring at you like she’s doing nothing wrong … staring at you like you’re NOT getting goosebumps on your ass cheeks rn

Once she gets comfortable, Mikasa is CONSTANTLY TEASING YOU RIGHT WHERE IT HURTS.

like it starts light, creating a little inside joke or two, like making fun of the special way you prepare your sandwiches or how you make the bed.

But then you catch her giggling to herself one day and you’re like aww what’s so funny ^_^ and she says she was thinking about that time you embarrassed yourself in front of her parents 😔

But then sometimes if she’s not in the right mood she’ll get all sassy if you tease her back. All “okay but I didn’t say it like that 😒.” Then she’ll pinch you.

She texts like .. full punctuation and everything. At first you thought she was mad at you every time you got her notifications till you got used to it.

She looks KILLER in turtlenecks it’s ridiculous

#eren x reader #armin x reader #aot x reader #mikasa x reader #eren jaeger x reader #aot headcanons #snk x reader #eren yeager x reader #armin arlert x reader #eren fic #armin arlert headcanons #eren yaeger headcanons #mikasa headcanons

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sugairsstuff · 2 months

Note

Hii,

I have a request I love protective Rhys so can you do a Rhys x reader where someone insults her and Rhys gets all overprotective and angry, like how dare they insult my mate🤭

I hope you have a great day and thank u for writing it

Bye❤️

i’m sorry for taking so long to write this! i hope you enjoy my spin on the prompt <3

i’m flattered

rhysand x fem/reader

warnings: none

description: a noble has quite a lot to say regarding your appointment to high lady. as much as you’d like to do it yourself, your loving mate swoops in to put them in their place.

Coming to the Court of Nightmares to play pretend in these political dances veiled in the disguise of a party was never something you were excited about through all your immortal years of knowing Rhysand. So, naturally, you were feeling an extra weight of anxiety now that you would be attending as the High Lady of the Night Court—therefore a major piece in what was originally just Rhysand and the Court of Nightmare’s game of chess. You understood your mate morphed himself into an entirely different person as he believed that the one way to keep this imbalanced section of the Night Court under order was to keep them intimidated with the illusion of a cruel leader—for who would challenge someone who held no moral bounds?

While your mate had years—if not centuries—of practice in carefully carving this mask to wear at a ball that wasn’t even a masquerade, you had only been High Lady for two years. Before that, you kept your head low or simply did not attend the events held in this part of the court. It goes without saying that you were extremely prone to criticism, which was especially worrying in a place that was kept under control through the guise that they were not allowed to question their authority.

Alas, your lover insisted that it would be better for you to attend with him. Rhysand promised that you were safe there in his company (and that the food and drinks would be to your liking), while urging that it was better to show your face and prove that these Fae did not make you afraid than stay behind and let them mumble amongst themselves. Because, of course, this court was no longer run by only the High Lord, so now you needed to demand respect as well.

Standing in the mirror, you decide that at least it was somehow easing to be wearing such an elegant gown to the ball. With long sleeves and a deep plunge, your black dress hugs your curves and falls over your hips to the floor. You thought it was a nice touch that the ends of the long skirt are flecked in white that gave the illusion you had just waded through a pool of stars. Your hair is done up nicely as well to flaunt your neck and the silver jewels decorating it, the light piece of jewelry falling deep on your chest.

“I’m wondering if bringing you may be a mistake after all,” a familiar voice hums lovingly behind you. You whirl around from the mirror, brows furrowed as you watch your mate expectantly for an explanation.

Rhysand chuckles, raising his hands in a surrendering gesture as he pushes himself off of the doorframe he was leaning against, “You are one beautiful distraction, darling. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to stay focused on politics when I have the brightest star in Prythian right at my side. That’s all.”

You roll your eyes regardless of the fact you’re now sure you didn’t need to put blush on when doing your make up earlier. “Oh, yeah, cover it up, Mr. High Lord,” you huff in faux annoyance, though perhaps some real insecurity.

Rhysand was quick to notice that, and even quicker to invade your personal space by wrapping an arm around your waist and guiding you to his chest. “Don’t forget Mr. High Lord needs his Mrs. High Lady there,” he coos, grinning when his cheesy words evoke a sweet laugh from your lips.

You decide to change the topic rather than continue to brood over the inevitable reality of the ball you are about to be an unwanted spotlight in. “Is everyone else ready?” you ask, thinking of your friends who also are expected to be attending due to political reasons. Azriel, Cassian, and even Mor were always expected to at least show their faces.

Rhysand nods idly, clearly too distracted by you to shift his mind to be thinking about them. “They’re waiting, but I’m sure they won’t mind it if we’re a little late,” he says, grinning like a feline as he leans down over you to try and capture your lips with his. You evade Rhysand’s flirtatious attempts to seduce you by leaning back and resting your palm against his chest.

“Nuh-uh. No way am I being late to this thing,” though you pause and return his playful grin, “though if it goes well, maybe we can celebrate later. The zipper on this dress is pretty difficult to undo,” you hum.

“I’d be glad to lend a hand with that.” he winks, smiling like a fool as his boyish attitude earns yet another laugh from you.

Rhysand was a tempting sight to be seen, though. It appears as though he wanted to make you two look like dynastic royalty with the way you both are dressed, perhaps to look utterly untouchable to the rebellious crowd you are about to endure. His suit was pitch black, tailored perfectly to hug his V-shaped waist and embroidered with deep purple lacing at its hems. His sleek black hair is pushed back with what you assume is gel, though either by Rhysand’s doing or its own failure some of raven strands had fallen down over his forehead. You couldn’t help but make the allusion of you being the stars and him being the milky way.

“Alright, let’s go before you get too carried away,” you insist. And with that, Rhysand pulls you closer to him and winnows you to where your friends wait—some more impatiently, as Azriel stands with his arms crossed and an accusing expression at the two of you for being late.

By the time you arrive in the Court of Nightmares, you realize the party wasn’t starting without Rhysand and you. The throne room was done up extravagantly to meet the expectations of the High Fae citizens of Hewn City, the pure silver decorations a stark contrast to the deep, shiny ebony that the room was etched from.

Beautiful faces all around the room turn to watch you and your mate enter, their drinks idle in their hands and their conversations paused so that they can get a good look at the new High Lady. You swallow, keeping your chin up and moving on to the main floor alongside your mate. The back of Rhysand’s hand brushes yours, and when you turn to look up at him you see that he’s offering you his arm. You link your elbow with his, allowing him to lead you the rest of the way into the parted crowds.

When the pair of you begin to near the dais, you see only one throne sits at the centre of it. Rhysand seems to have this planned, though, as he gently guides you away and lets go of your elbow once you reach a small cluster of nobles. Of course, it all came down to symbolism and perception, because rulers who are supposed to be equals should have their own thrones to sit, and holding on to you when not walking would be seen as more controlling than chivalrous.

“High Lord, it’s been quite some time since you’ve visited,” one of the Fae spoke. Her features were sharp and dark, brought out by her even darker makeup. To your surprise, she turns to look at you, “And you’re not alone. You must be our new High Lady, I’ve never seen you at any of the parties here.” the nameless female hums, her gaze dragging down along you. You can see in her brown eyes she finds nothing to criticize as she releases a small ‘hmph’ of both disappointment and approval.

“Yes, I am. I’m glad to finally have the opportunity to visit Hewn City properly.” you respond, offering a small, neutral smile. You decided that maybe if you treat these people politely, and not allow any snide remarks to outwardly anger you, they would see you as immune to their judgment and would back down.

The female raises her brow. Rhysand later would tell you her name is Emelia, daughter of a family known for trades. But when you glance to your side, you realize your mate has been pulled aside with Mor in what looks like an unpleasant conversation with Keir, the steward of Hewn City.

Emelia decides to strike while you’re alone, having no respect for someone who, technically, wasn’t her direct authority, “Well, that makes it sounds like you weren’t allowed to visit the Court. Why, does your High Lord keep you at arm’s length?” she drawls, sipping her golden-flaked wine in a weak attempt to hide her triumphant smirk.

Your back straightens, stunned for only a moment at her implication. “Well, it’s just a little difficult finding free time to revel so often when there are duties I must see to for the Night Court as a whole. I’m not sure if you will understand, however, considering how many of these occasions you’ve mentioned you spend your time going to.” you quip, quickly realizing that being nice and courteous to people wouldn’t work, and that Rhysand was unfortunately right to maintain equilibrium in Hewn City through intimidation.

You leave Emelia fuming in your wake, not bidding her a farewell as you head to Rhysand who now converses with Keir alone. Your mate looks relieved when he sees you coming, moving like a wisp in your black dress across the ebony throne room. The male to his left, however, looks less than pleased to see you coming in contrast.

“Keir,” you greet as Rhysand bends to kiss your cheek in loving greeting.

Keir only says your name in return before looking to Rhysand. “Well, that’s all from me, enjoy your fun, Rhysand.” he says, sending a scrutinizing look your way before departing.

Your mate lets him go without the satisfaction of a response. Rhysand sighs, turning to face you and reaching a hand to adjust the positioning of your necklace. His hand brushes against your collarbone as you meet his eyes. “Was she giving you trouble?” he says, recalling that he had to leave you with Emelia, “I felt some tension on your end of the bond,” he murmurs, careful of the level of his voice due to the room being full of prying, pointy ears.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you assure him, taking your turn to do some adjusting by straightening the sculpted fabric of his overcoat. You thought you had managed yourself well with Emelia, who you assume was somewhere between a jealous young female to another rebellious citizen spewing the opinions fed to her by others, and your confidence began to return until you and Rhysand were silent enough for a conversation to reach your ears.

“Look at her. Dressed like a queen and yet she does nothing for the Night Court,” a male voice scoffed. You hear female and male voices laughing almost forcefully in adoration. The male continues, his voice only slightly muffled from the crowd and the distant music, “All I’m saying is, I don’t even work in politics and I could probably do a better job than her.”

After some more irritating cackling, a female voice pipes in, “The dress is tacky, anyway.”

With your heart in your stomach, you don’t even have the chance to look around and locate the owners of these voices as you notice your mate has already walked the few feet over to the small group near the edge of the throne room.

You worry that following after your mate and standing there as he, you assume, chides the yapping male, you make your way to the nearby refreshment table. Azriel thankfully stands there, who seems to be avidly trying to blend into the wall in order to avoid conversing with the unpleasant guests.

“Pretend we’re having a conversation. I’m eavesdropping.” you tell him once you arrive, and Azriel responds with a joking ‘yes, ma’am’ as you become another one of the pointy-eared eavesdroppers.

“Cielo,” you hear Rhysand drawl, a wicked grin on his face as he inserts himself into their conversation. Satisfaction begins to lift your heart back into place as the group’s laughter comes to an abrupt halt.

“Are you implying you think you’d be a better High Lady for me?” Rhysand hums, brow raising at Cielo, who now looks stiff with embarrassment. “Really, I had no idea you harboured such feelings for me, I’m truly flattered.” Rhysand continues just enough so that Cielo’s friends have turned their amusement to their rather humiliated looking pal.

Rhysand takes a step forward, a few inches taller than the glaring male. “I’d hate to break your heart, but if you ever speak about your High Lady and my mate in such a disgusting manner again, I will make an example out of you as to exactly what the punishment is for disrespecting your authority.” and just as his friends began to snicker, Rhysand’s sharp violet gaze turns to them. “And that goes for all of you,” he snaps. Rhysand stalks away, leaving the small crowd of Fae in silence as he finds you next to Azriel.

“You know,” you say cheekily, “I could’ve handled that, too.”

Rhysand sighs as he takes a glass of wine from the table, likely wanting some alcohol to stroke away the flames of his temper. “I know, darling. Sorry for beating you to it, I just couldn’t stand by and listen to them spit bullshit like that.” he scoffs. You can’t be bothered to be mad—too busy gleaming in triumph and pride over your love’s protectiveness.

“Well, I think they learned their lesson,” you giggle, glancing to the group who now watch you and Rhysand in weariness rather than entitlement.

“Good. If they can’t appreciate what you do for them, they could at least keep their mouths shut.” he hisses. You rest your hand on Rhysand’s elbow to bring his attention back to you.

“Why don’t we dance? That way, no one can judge us for not speaking to anyone.” you suggest.

Rhysand takes your hand and kisses the back of it, “I like the sound of that.” he agrees.

After a night full of dancing and more inevitable political conversations, you and Rhysand winnow back to the House of Wind as you call it a night. You find yourself standing in front of your long mirror, trying to reach back to undo the finicky zipper of your dress. You see Rhysand take a step closer to you in the mirror and feel as his hands snake into place on each side of your waist.

“So, how about that celebrating?” he grins to your reflection.

#acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #a court of thorns and roses #high lord rhysand #high lord of the night court #the night court #night court #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you #cassian x reader #azriel x reader #azriel #cassian

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readychilledwine · 6 months

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Dying thinking about rhys literally pining and hardcore simping for reader, literally showering reader in praise, flattery and gifts because he no longer gives a damn about hiding his feelings, almost proposing to reader whenever he can and reader's just. completely clueless about it 💀 and she thinks it's just rhys being friendly. Poor man would be absolutely devastated when he goes one day "[name] i'm in love with you" and she just goes "me too, i love all my friends!"

Subtle

Summary - Rhys is ready to lay it all onto the table when he gets home from his time in captivity. He just hopes you're as ready as he is.

Warnings - fighting, drinking, inner circle board game night, implied smut

A/N - Cassian would absolutely dominate Risk. I almost felt guilty using it as my inspiration for the game night piece. This was fun to write. Definitely going to have to do some more in terms of family game night with the Inner Circle and my readers/ocs

Ps - gif is how I imagine Cassian and Azriel.

He promised himself when he came home from the mountain, he would court you. Truly court you. Gifts, dates, everything.

The bond had snapped for him a few years before Amarantha took them all hostage, but you had just recently been saved from a temple, and he wanted to give you time to heal before he advanced.

In the time you two spent together, he discovered you enjoyed similar things. During your time at the temple, you had begun to study the stars, the solar system, theories on the galaxy. He used that to his advantage, claiming he just wanted to meet with someone who shared his passion and hobby.

You were welcomed into the Inner Circle as his head scholar within a year. There wasn't a single thing in that library you could not transcribe or find, and it proved to be quite helpful for the Shadowsinger and his studies of old court alliances and traditions and for Cassian as he began to study ancient warfare.

You all sat at your first family dinner in 50 years, enjoying the free flowing wine, the light conversation. You were watching Rhys subtly, and he you. After dessert, he stood, walking over to you and offering you his hand before leaving to his office with you.

"About fucking time," Cassian mumbled under his breath, and the table nodded.

Rhysand sat you down in his office. "I missed you," he said gently. "I missed my time alone with you. Forgive me for pulling you away from our friends."

You shook your head, a smile settling on your face. "There's nothing to forgive. What did you want to talk about?"

It was too soon for him to say what he wanted, too soon to be this forward, so he decided to gently introduce you to his affections. "It doesn't matter what we talk about, y/n. I just want to be around you."

Over the next month, he took his time with you. He showered you with gifts ranging from jewelry to new books on the stars, to clothing. His touches when you two were alone became more intimate and lingering.

You wrote it off as him introducing himself to touch with someone he trusted again, not believing Rhysand, the most attractive male fae in existence, would ever want you or find you beautiful.

He began dropping all subtleties two months into his new behavior. In front of the Inner Circle, an arm would go behind your shoulders. He'd play with your hair. He'd rest a hand on your knee or lower thigh.

For tonight's family game night, you were in charge of picking the board game, and Rhys stood behind you as you looked over the countless shelves. "Azriel is off tomorrow," you recounted softly. "Amren is actually interested in playing." He watched your delicate finger move over to more complicated games. "But if I pick something too difficult Mor and Cassian will leave." Rhys admired you in affectionate silence still. "And you and I will bicker no matter what we play because," you turned him, one of the Inner Circles absolute favorite battle mapping and strategy games in hand. You deepened your voice, raising a perfect brow at him. "My name is Rhysand, I am the most intelligent high lord, and I can never be wrong."

He smirked, almost truly purring like a pleased cat, as he replied. "Well, if you believe so, darling, and I believe so, it must be true." You could help but giggle, holding the game out to him. "We haven't played this in years, y/n."

They had purchased it to teach you battle planning and rationing, not realizing it would soon become a game that your teams 3 would enjoy so much and become so passionate about that arguments would ensue over who was the most capable.

You were always teamed with Cassian and Amren. Your two friends took you under their wings, for Cassian quite literally, and would use the game and your turns as education moments.

"Amren said if I picked well enough, she'd stay and play." You smiled up at him. "Maybe you could switch her and Mor so she isn't dealing with such a handicap?"

Rhys made a face of confusion at you. "You are not a handicap, darling," he tilted your face up to his with two fingers under your chin. "I never want to hear those words fall from your mouth again. Now, to the game room."

The two of you went up the stairs, several bottles of alcohol and the board game in hand, and the room went silence when they saw that familiar painted terrain box.

Cassian was the first to jump up, immediately clearing more space on the table. "I'm fucking you up this time, Az."

The shadowsinger shook his head, rearranging the chairs and staring his brother down. "Over my dead body, Cassian."

Amren immediately took her spot, one one that'd normally be on your right, and Cassian the one on the left. The two of them patted the chair eagerly staring at you despite knowing they were about to lose.

Azriel and Rhys were making eye contact. A smile ghosting the face of the shadowsinger. Rhys began slowly, setting the bottles down. "I was thinking we could change the teams a little. Mor with you two, and y/n with Azriel and I."

Cassian covered a laugh with a cough and Amren's face turned into that of a feral cat. Mor also wore a shameless smirk as she took your seat.

Azriel ushered you to the table, setting you in the middle chair. He was near your ear and said softly. "Just follow our lead, study what we're doing, and remember all the books we read, okay? You will do fine." Rhysand and him sat next to you.

This was not a fair team. You had expected him to switch Amren and Mor, leaving still fairly even odds, but now Cassian's side was stacked.

The commander of the Illyrian and Night Court's army who mapped battles out for fun.

An ancient being who studied bloodshed and battles for fun, openly commenting on where armies and nations mess up.

And Mor. Mor who lead battalions as a female. Mor who was Rhysand's last resort.

You bit your lip, immediately feeling insecure. Stop it, Rhysand said gently into your head. We have an advantage here, remember?

You kept a neutral face, feeling something being built into your mind. This is cheating, Azriel's deep voice then said. We should do this to beat Cassian more often. You heard soft flows of whispers in your mind, almost causing you to drop the calm face. You get used to them, the two males said together. They're very, very helpful. Rhysand purred.

You leaned back taking a deep breath and studying the map of the eastern and western contenants and countries. "Y/n," Cassian said per tradition and rules, "you go first as the most traveled fae."

Take the western isles, Azriel said. Steal where Cassian trained you to go and throw him off. It is exactly where you should start to win, you just typically make small enough errors we could pull everything apart. You took the legion figures in your hand. "I only know one start for this game, Cass." The general's face fell as you placed your allotted start pieces.

"You-" His jaw tightened. "I see how this is going to be."

You heard that whisper as Mor began. Night Court. It was ghostly and snake like, predicting her move exactly. Made mistake. No air legions.

A hand found yours under the table, lacing your fingers into calloused longer ones. "Shall we begin?"

The game turned into what it traditionally turns into quickly. Azriel and Cassian were stood, noses touching as they talked shit about each other battle planning.

Your team had managed to take 80% of the board through methods you weren't proud of. Amren and Mor were also quietly arguing, the blonde accusing the ancient being of purposely sabotaging them when it was Mor who made the initial mistake that had handicapped them the rest of the game.

Rhysand's hand had moved from holding yours to your mid thigh, tracing small circles into the skin as you two drank wine and watched the fighting with matching cat like grins. He inclined his head to the balcony and you two stood to walk outside as Cassian threw a last straw insult Azriel's way, resulting in the traditional fist fight that came with this game.

You and Rhysand leaned against the balcony, looking up at the twinkling stars. He had closed the link the three of you were sharing, allowing you to focus on just him. "I can see why Azriel struggles with headaches now," you confessed. "I can't imagine constantly hearing that input of information."

Rhys nodded. "I block it for him when he sleeps. Unless it's urgent. Then I allow them to communicate."

"That makes sense."

Comfortable silence fell between you two. At least silence until Rhys accidentally blurted out the words he'd wanted to for years now. "I love you."

"I love you too, Rhysand." You leaned into his arm and watched as his head fell in defeat.

"No, y/n Darling. I don't think you understood that."

You blinked at his slightly panicked and desperate face. "Rhys, I love all of you, you're my friends and family."

Rhys shut his eyes, turning you so you two were looking at each other face to face, heart to heart. His two large hands came to your cheeks, cupping yout face as a serious expression fell over his. "Darling, I'm in love with you. I have been for a very very long time." Your mouth parted slightly, breath stilling as you blinked at him.

It all made sense now. The countless gifts. The "dates". The moments spent completely alone where he'd have his hands on you.

"Rhysand," you watched him nod, taking your silence as rejection. "No." You pulled him back to you, "I. I love you too."

His eyes searched your face as he searched your mind. "You thought?" You nodded, not needing him to finish questioning your insecurities. "Oh darling." You felt something pull in your ribcage, eyes growing wide as you stared at him. Tears began to form in both of your eyes as he moved to hold you close again. "I could never and would never do that to you, y/n. I have loved you since the time you helped me adjust my Starmap. Our time apart just helped make it more apparent."

He crashed his lips on yours in a hard passionate kiss. Snaking his arms around your waist as yours went to his shoulders, pulling him closer.

It was fire.

It was the richest of wines you'd ever had.

The coolest water in the desert.

Kissing Rhysand wasn't just an action. It was an experience. You almost melted into his body, allowing him to hold you as closely as possible.

You two finally pulled apart, his forehead finding yours instantly as you both smiled and laughed softly.

"HAND OVER MY FUCKING MONEY AZRIEL!" You both jumped at the loud boom of Cassian's voice.

"It's midnight," a cool reply came. You both moved inside just in time to hear Azriel's explanation. "It's a new month now, Cassian. You said two months. I said three. How about you hand over MY MONEY?"

Rhysand made an appalled face, his jaw dropping. "You two placed a bet on this?"

Amren rolled her eyes as Mor was growling and handing over three jewelry boxes. "We all did. Thank you, girl. It was a pleasure doing business with you. Shadowsinger, we make a wonderful team."

Azriel sat with his hand out, sipping his whiskey casually as Cassian groaned and counted out pieces of gold. "Yes we do, little fire drake, yes we do."

Rhys rolled his eyes, pulling you by your hand to the stairs. "Goodnight," he called over his shoulder. A chorus of Goodnights came in reply before arguing ensued again.

Rhysand led you to his room, opening the door and leading inside of the luxurious chamber by the small of your back. He pulled you to his bed, laying you back on it gently as he began to kiss you again. Relax, darling. I only want a few kisses.

It was much, much more than just a few kisses.

#acotar #acotar x reader #rhys x reader #rhysand x reader #rhys acotar #inner circle #inner circle x reader

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