#sjmxreaderweek

[inkedinshadows]

Would You Fall in Love with Me Again

Pairing: Rhysand x f!reader

Summary: Rhysand comes home to his mate after 50 years UTM, but he's worried she might not love him anymore after everything he's done.

Warnings: angst, sad boi Rhys, mentions of Amarantha

Word count: 2.2k

Main masterlist | Week Masterlist | Rhysand Masterlist | AO3

@sjmxreaderweek

Velaris was quiet, with only a few faelights shining in the night to rival the stars above. A gentle breeze blew your hair away from your face, carrying with it the scent of salt and spring.

You sat on one of the iron chairs on the rooftop, your head tilted back to look up at the twinkling stars. You'd lost count of how many times you'd wished upon them over the last forty-nine years, and though you'd long since stopped wishing they would return your mate, you had never lost hope that he would one day come back home to you.

But now your wishes were smaller, because maybe then they would be answered. Maybe asking for something too big was too ambitious to be granted.

So you stuck with the little things.

For your mate to be safe, and healthy too. That even if couldn't return, he would know you'd wait for him and love him from afar. That wherever he was, he could look up at the same stars and think of you, and maybe even feel you close to him.

You shivered slightly when the breeze picked up. Goosebumps rose on your arms as if the wind itself was telling you to stop thinking and go to sleep instead.

With a sigh, you finally stood. It was late, and the bed was calling to you with the promise of a sleep filled with dreams of Rhys.

After one last glance at the quiet stars, you headed down the stairs toward your bedroom. You frowned at the light filtering out from beneath the door. You were sure you hadn't left it on before climbing up to the rooftop. But when you pushed it open, your heart stopped.

You recognized his scent before you even saw him.

Citrus and sea salt filled your lungs, and then the door swung fully open.

And there he was.

Rhys was sitting on the edge of the bed, but he shot to his feet the moment you turned the doorknob. He just stood there, posture rigid, as you stared at each other.

His skin was pale—so much paler than the last time you'd seen him. His hair was slightly longer, and his eyes no longer sparkled with life and joy as they once had. He was thinner. And he looked tired—so tired that you wondered when the last time he had gotten some sleep was.

“Rhys?” you whispered. You were still standing in the doorway, too stunned to move. “Is that you? Are you… are you really here?”

Maybe you had fallen asleep on that chair and this was just another dream.

How many times had you imagined this moment, both while asleep and awake? Or was this real and the stars—or the Mother, the Cauldron, all the forgotten gods you'd silently begged—had finally answered your prayers?

Rhys didn't smile. Didn't nod. He just swallowed.

“I'm here, but…”

Your heart dropped.

“But I'm not…” He struggled to find the words. “I'm not the same person you knew.”

Finally stepping into the room, you frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve changed,” he answered. His voice was trembling. “I've… done things, Y/N. I'm not the man I was fifty years ago.”

You weren't surprised—not really. You had changed too. Fifty years was a long time, even for an immortal, and whatever Rhys had been through had visibly taken a toll on him. You had almost expected it.

But you had never once seen him so nervous, so… scared. As if he was afraid you were going to reject him, to tell him you didn't want him anymore. It made you wonder what kinds of things he was talking about.

“What did you do?” you asked quietly.

Rhys hesitated. For a moment, you thought he might not answer. But then he spoke.

“Everything she asked me,” he whispered. He didn't look at you. “I hurt people for her. Innocents. And I… I served her.”

He paused again, and you braced yourself for what he might say next.

“In the bedroom.”

The air left your lungs.

Rhys finally looked at you again. His eyes—usually so full of stars and love—were now anguished and scared.

“I promise you, Y/N, it never meant anything.” He took a step toward you, then stopped, as if unsure you would allow him to come closer. “Everything I've done, the people I've hurt… it was all to keep Velaris safe. So that I could come back home… to you.”

“Rhys—”

“And it's selfish, but I need to know if… if there's a chance you could still love me.” He swallowed. “If you only knew what I've done… I'm not the man you fell in love with. Not anymore. And I don't know if you could love me like you used to.”

“Rhys,” you said, and this time your voice was firmer.

He stopped just as he was about to say something else and looked at you, waiting.

You studied him for a long moment. His hands trembled slightly—something that had never happened before. His cheeks were a little hollow, his waist just a bit thinner. You took in every detail, every little change in his body, noticing all of them as if you'd last seen him only the day before.

You didn't doubt his words. He was different, and he was hurting, haunted by whatever Amarantha had made him do. In and out of the bedroom, apparently.

But you had waited half a century for your mate to come home. You wouldn't let anything come in between you and him anymore, even if it was his own fear and guilt.

“Do you remember when we first said ‘I love you’?”

He seemed confused, but you went on.

“We went to that concert at the Rainbow Theatre and then you walked me home, and we kissed in front of my door.”

Rhys frowned. “That was when the bond snapped, not the first time we said ‘I love you’.”

You tilted your head to the side as you thought about it. “Right,” you muttered. “So was it that time we just went to the coffeehouse across from where I used to work because I didn't have time?”

You had always loved your job at the bakery. Cakes and cookies, loaves of bread and rolls, pastries and tarts—they were your element. You thrived surrounded by flour and yeast and chocolate chips. But that first job became more like a prison and burden, where you had to work impossible shifts and run on little sleep.

You had met Rhys when he came in one day to order a cake for his cousin's birthday. Something immediately clicked between the two of you, and shortly after you were going on dates in between your shifts. You sacrificed so many hours of sleep so you could see him in your free time, until Rhys had convinced you to quit and find something better.

Hurt flashed in Rhys' eyes, but there was a hint of frustration in his voice. “That was our first date.”

Though it killed you, you just nodded thoughtfully. “Then when was it? Do you remember it?”

Rhys took a deep breath. You couldn't tell it if he was trying to stay calm or if he was truly that hurt by your apparent memory lapse.

“It was the day before you opened your own bakery,” he said. He spoke slowly, as if it would help you remember. “You were trying new recipes and making me taste all of them until I felt sick. And when you asked why I didn't tell you I'd eaten too much cake, I said it was because I loved you and wanted to see you happy.”

He hesitated before meeting your gaze. “Do you really not remember?”

You shook your head and stepped forward. Finally standing in front of him, the urge to throw yourself into his arms—or to hold him in yours—was stronger than ever. But you held back for now and just looked up at him instead.

“I remember,” you said. “Of course I remember. Our first date, the first kiss, the first ‘I love you’... I remember it all.”

He opened his mouth, but you already knew what he was going to say.

You lifted a hand to his face, fingers shaking almost imperceptibly, and then you were cupping his cheek.

After almost fifty years, you were touching your mate again.

Rhys tensed under your touch, his eyes searching your face, and you had to fight against the lump rising in your throat to speak again.

“I asked because I wanted you to remember,” you murmured. “To remind yourself that you remember all those moments and a thousand more. That you've changed, but you're still you.”

Your other hand came to rest on his chest, right where his heart was. You could feel it, beating wildly beneath your palm.

“In here, you're still Rhysand. You're still my mate. And you always will be.”

His violet eyes shone, silver lining them.

“I don't need another chance to love you, Rhys,” you said, your voice a soft caress, like your thumb now brushing his cheekbone. “Because I never stopped loving you. And I never will. You're my mate, my love, and I'd wait another fifty years for you.”

His throat bobbed, and then tears rolled down his cheeks. You cupped his face with both hands, wiping them away with a soft smile.

It broke your heart to see him like this. To know that whatever he had done, whatever he'd been forced to endure, had been horrible enough to make him think your love for him could ever die.

“Open the bond,” you encouraged gently. “Let the wall come down, my love.”

It had killed you not feeling him for all those decades. When he'd reached out with his magic to warn you, he told you it was for your safety. That if someone had suspected he had a mate, Amarantha would come for you.

And you had understood. You had accepted it—you hadn't had another choice. But it had still killed you.

Sometimes, you would pull on the bond, like you had done hundreds of times before, but you could never feel his presence on the other side. As if he had never been there. As if he were gone.

It had terrified you. You had no way of knowing if he was alright or hurt. Would you know it if he had died? With the mating bond shut, would you be able to feel it, to sense it? Would your heart stop beating without warning? The doubts and nightmares had haunted you for fifty years.

But now he was here. You were together again.

Rhys released a shuddering breath. He searched your eyes again, but all he found there was love and understanding.

A few seconds passed in silence.

And then you felt it—that feeling deep within your chest, like a string tied to your heart, pulling you gently toward him.

The warm, glowing mating bond.

A ghost presence in your chest for almost fifty years, but no more. And never again.

You both gasped at the intensity of it. You could sense that Rhys was still holding back, still trying to shield you from the full weight of his anguish and guilt. So you flooded the bond with your love, your relief, your joy at finally being with him again.

Slowly, Rhys leaned forward until his forehead rested against yours. “I've missed you, my darling. Every minute of every day.”

A sob tore from you, and then you were crying too. Your arms looped around his neck to pull him closer, fingers tangling in his hair as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. His hands slid to your back, holding you even tighter.

“I missed you too,” you choked out. “And I love you, Rhys. Please, never doubt that.”

His tears seeped through your shirt, dampening the fabric and your skin beneath it, but you couldn't have cared less.

You were holding him. And he was holding you. Everything was going to be fine.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you so much.”

You didn't know how long you stood there in the center of the room, just holding each other. Minutes or hours—it didn't matter. You had no intention of letting him go ever again, and you knew he felt the same. You could spend the rest of your life like this and it would be enough.

It didn't matter what he had done, what Amarantha had forced him to do. Maybe one day he would tell you. Maybe he wouldn't. But even then, nothing he said could ever make you stop loving him.

If you had to spend the next few years proving to him that he wasn't the villain he thought he'd become, then so be it. You would show him that, however changed he might be, he was still your mate.

He was still—and would always be—your Rhys.

And he was finally home.

*lovely divider by @slytherin-pen

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @lilah-asteria @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @ivy-34 @yesiamthatwierd @lreadsstuff @littlest-w01f

[manicmanuscription]

These Hands

SJM x Reader Week Day Four @sjmxreaderweek

Prompt: Villian / Hero

Pairing: Azriel / Reader

Summary: Azriel comes home and is withdrawn he knows what he is, what he’s done and only his lovely mate can help him escape his own mind

Tags: mentions of murder, blood, torture is implied, Azriel is depressed angst and fluff, bathing together ptsd symptoms. gets lowkey spicey at the end. Minors DNI

Word Count: 1063

SJM x Reader Week | Acotar Masterlist

I knew something was wrong with my mate long before he came home. He shut his side of the bond when he was working but small glimpses of…pain, regret flickered through. 

Azriel didn’t even come say hello to me, instead he quietly resigned himself to the bathroom. I heard the bath running through the old plumbing in the walls and I made my way upstairs after a few moments setting the book down carelessly on the coffee table. 

We’d been mated centuries and I’d gotten particularly good at recognizing the elusive shadowsinger’s hard to read moods. If he or anybody else was injured the bond would be wide open, trying to comfort me and sending as much reassurance as he could. 

But now he was distant, drawing himself further within dark places he did not want me to go. I knocked once on the door before sliding in without a response. There was my gorgeous mate standing next to the close to overflowing bath, staring at his scarred hands with empty eyes. 

I knew immediately what was wrong. I switched off the nozzle for the tub and made my way in front of him, my form not doing much to block the large mirror behind me. 

“Azriel?” I asked keeping my voice low so as to not startle him, I hadn’t seen him like this in ages and worry ate at my gut. I pressed a gentle touch to his hand, testing the waters and he flinched. 

So it was just as bad as I thought. 

I worked on removing his working clothes and various weapons gently caressing my fingers over his body so he didn’t feel suffocated. He obviously washed off before arriving and the clothes were old, small stains of blood smeared on his skin.  “Did you know the neighbor’s cat has been hanging around here? It happened the last few weeks you were gone. I think he likes Kia. They’ve been playing underneath the porch.”

I left him in just his sweatpants not so subtly searching his bare torso for wounds in case he was too far gone to realize he’d been hurt and after realizing he was ok I reached for the pearlescent comb set in the cabinets, grabbing a small stool to make it easier to brush away all the knots in his hair. “You need a haircut.” I murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek before continuing. “Anyways I really hope he doesn’t get her pregnant. Although kitten’s running around her would be so cute, I don't know anything about them. Nyx would absolutely adore them though.”

I stepped down from the stool and tested the bath waters to make sure it was hot enough, adding a few good smelling oils and lighting the new candles. “Speaking of Nyx, he's only gotten more rambunctious lately. Mother help us when he actually starts flying. I swear he’ll crack his head. He obviously gets it from Rhys.” I helped him take off his sweatpants and softly guided him to the bath, stripping my own clothes and joining him. 

I washed his hair, then his wings then did my best to wash his body. All the while talking about everything and nothing just so I could bring my mate back to me, hoping he would start listening to my voice instead of the awful voice in his head. The bond slowly starting opening from his end and I knew it was working.

When I turned around and reaching for the comb on the nearby counter just for good measure his smooth voice shakes slightly. “Why are you doing this?” He whispered staring at his hands again. 

I faced him once again, comb forgotten. “What do you mean my love?” I asked scooting closer to him. He kept staring at his scarred hands and I grabbed them in my hands. Knowing what he meant but wanting to hear him say it. He flinched at my touch and tried pulling away but I held tighter.

Sometimes people needed space and sometimes they needed to be pushed, Azriel was the type to go far into his inner demons; it took a little extra shoving to push them away. His voice cracked as he said my name as I swirled soothing patterns over the scars. “These hands….these hand’s shouldn’t-” His voice broke again and his usually stoic face grimaced in pain. 

“I do not deserve your reverence. Or your love. I’m a monster, these- these hands have done things your mind would shatter underneath the weight of. They have hurt so many people-” 

“Oh Azriel…” I whispered, my heart breaking at his words. I brought our joined hands to my lips and peppered kisses over each scar. “You are not monstrous, you are not a vile demon.”

He protested with my name  but I cut him off. “No, let me finish. These hands protect this court, these hands protect our family. They hurt villains and monsters. These hands aren’t just capable of destruction. They are capable of nurturing. They make me breakfast every morning and cradle Nyx.”

I moved on from kissing his scars to kissing his palms, his fingertips. The bond softening at each touch. “These hands move the pages on my favorite books as you read to me. These hands braid my hair, these hands make me feel loved, safe and cared for.”

I slowly dragged his hands over my body. “These hands bring me so much pleasure.”  the touch grounding him and a flash of desire passed over his once haunted eyes as I positioned his palm to cup my sensitive parts underneath the water. But I brought them back up to my waist, knowing that’s not what he needed right now. I made sure his eyes were back on mine before speaking again

“These hands cherish me, our family, they make me fires when I'm cold and hold me when I'm scared. I love you Azriel. You won’t break me, or hurt me. I love you baby and you deserve it.” I meant every word and he tugged me close to his chest before I could see the silver lining his eyes, positioning me so I sat in his lip, my head tucking into his neck and he rubbed soothing motions up and down my arm. I breathed in his familiar scent letting it ground me and the bond was wide open now. 

“I love you so much.” He murmured reverently, pressing a slow kiss to my lips. 

“I love you too.”

[velaris-fic-repository]

Mishaps in Babysitting

@sjmxreaderweek May 10th Prompt: Free Day

Azriel x Archeron!Reader, Nyx is a menace

“Now, you’re sure you’re alright doing this?” your sister, Feyre, asked you by the door. She and Rhys were going out into Velaris tonight for a much needed date night just the two of them.

Nesta, Cassian and the Valkyries were in Illyria with the non envied task of dealing the camp leaders. Elain had agreed to a little trip around Prythian with Lucien, who had offered to show her all the various court gardens - among other things - and so the two of them could get to know each other a bit better. A chance to get themselves on better footing, as it were. Mor had a date of her own tonight and Amren was visiting Varian in Summer.

That left you at home to watch the Inner Circle’s beloved child, your precious nephew, Nyx.

“Feyre, if you try to talk yourself out of going through me one more time, I’m going to lose it.” You offered her an easy, loving smile. “I know it’s hard to leave him, but you have more than earned this. Go, spend a night with your husband. The little guy and I will be fine. If it makes you feel any better, Azriel said he should be home soon. The two of us won’t be alone for long.”

Feyre shook her head, the pins in her hair glittering like stars in the light as she did so, “I never meant to imply that you couldn’t handle it-“

“-And,” you interrupted her, “I never said you did. Feyre, I promise everything will be fine. Let me do this.” Your face took on a softer, guilty expression. “It’s the least I can do.” You didn’t need to specify what you meant.

Feyre frowned, but nodded, “okay.”

Rhys swept around you to hold her from behind, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Ready to go, darling?”

Feyre looked at you and finally nodded, more sure this time, “yes, I am.”

“There you go!” you said, “go out, have fun, we’ll be here when you get back!”

Rhys sent his feline smile your way over your sister’s shoulder. “He’s quite the handful on his own, you know. I’m sure I can call Azriel before we leave.”

You swatted playfully at your brother in law, “I’ll be fine! Besides-“ you put a hand over where your young bond with Azriel glowed in your chest- “if I need him, he’ll know.”

Rhys smiled.

“Nyx is smarter than his own good,” Feyre warned, “don’t let him trick you-“

“-Stop worrying! Both of you! Shoo! Out! Go! Out! Out!”

The couple laughed, sending a few more words of advice and thanks over their shoulders before leaning into each other on the lamp lit sidewalks of their beloved city. You watched them go with a soft smile before pushing off the door and walking back inside.

You rounded the corner to Nyx’s room shortly after. “Alright, Nyx what are you and your favorite auntie gonna get up to?” you teased.

You’d expected to find Nyx playing with his toys where his father had left him. In hindsight, you should have known better.

“Nyx, sweetie?”

Nothing. The room was empty aside from the entire toy box being strewn about. You carefully picked the toys up as you called out to the room, expecting Nyx to be hiding somewhere inside, maybe in the closet, where the toy box was… Hmm…

Okay, you could play this game.

“Nyx? Nyx where are you? Huh. I guess he’s not here. Welp, I guess I could at least responsibly put these toys away.” You were laying it on thick, you knew, but that was half of the fun.

You opened the closet slowly, finding the toy box tucked into the darkest corner with its lid slightly propped up. Little giggles sounded from the box, which was all you needed to know.

You crept closer and then all at once, yanked the box lid off. “There you are!”

Nyx, with his little wings tucked close to him, giggled up at you, amusement shinning in his eyes that looked so much like your sister’s.

“Gotcha!” You said, reaching for your nephew. That was, you did, until the world folded around him and you grasped nothing but thin air.

You blinked.

Had Nyx ever winnowed before? You felt like you’d have remembered something like that.

Dread spiked in your stomach for a moment until you took a deep breath, setting off into the house. This was alright, all you had to do was find him. All he had done was extend - and mildly increase the danger of - his hide and seek game.

You heard rustling in the kitchen and raced there.

Nyx, to your growing horror was spreading his little wings on top of the cabinets, perched like an adorable, little mischievous gargoyle.

“Nyx, honey, this isn’t funny anymore. You could get seriously hurt up there. Let me reach up there and pull you down.”

Nyx shook his head, “nuh-uh, auntie. I’ve got wings!”

“No! No, no, no. Nyx, sweetheart, please just stay there, I’m gonna get you down. Stay there.”

“Better idea!” He shouted in a way that reminded you so much of Cassian. He leaned forward a few times, preparing to launch from the cabinets. “Catch me!”

He launched himself from the cabinets, gliding down towards the counter. You scrambled to catch him, but there was no way you were going to make it in time.

Before Nyx could collide with anything, his descent was stopped by a hand clutching the back of his shirt. Azriel was home, and had Nyx grabbed by the scruff.

“So it looks like someone hasn’t been behaving for his auntie like he’d promised,” Azriel said, wryly.

Nyx flailed a bit but quickly realized that he wasn’t going to be escaping the strength of his uncle’s grip and quit.

“I’m sorry, Uncle Azzie” Nyx said in a sad, deflated voice.

“Don’t say sorry to me, say sorry to your auntie.”

Nyx sent sad, remorseful eyes your way, bringing tears to your eyes as well.

“Sorry…” he warbled.

“Aww,” you cooed getting closer to him. “It’s alright little buddy. You just scared me, that’s all. We all care an awful lot about you, you know that?”

He nodded.

“We want you to be safe,” you said, “and sometimes being safe means not doing every little thing you want to do. Sometimes, a fun idea can be dangerous. That doesn’t mean never do anything fun again, just think about what could happen to figure out if it’s safe. Make sense buddy?”

“Uh huh!”

“Good,” you smiled, “now, promise you won’t winnow away from us and Uncle Azzie will let you down so we can play. Sound fair?”

Nyx nodded vigorously.

“Okay.”

The rest of the evening went by far smoother. You tired Nyx out playing and then set him to bed. You and Azriel sat leaned against each other on the couch not too far away from the little one’s room.

“Thank you,” you sighed, “for coming.”

“I felt your terror through the bond,” Azriel said, sounding about as tired as you felt, “there was nowhere in the world I wouldn’t have left to come to you.”

Your heart swelled, “Az.”

“I don’t know what is wrong with human males for you to think that isn’t the treatment you deserve,” Azriel growled.

“Thank you, Az,” you said, kissing his cheek.

“Don’t ever thank me for that again. I don’t deserve praise for what I would do naturally.”

Not having the energy for even this back and forth, you simply sighed and leaned your head on Azriel’s shoulder. His wing moved in to drape over you like a blanket as the two of you rested there.

Rhysand and Feyre came home to find you and Azriel snoring on each other. Quietly snickering, they checked on their sleeping son. Happy to see all their loved ones were safe and accounted for, they draped a blanket over the two of you and left you to sleep.

[velarisdusk]

I've Got the Gift of One-Liners (And You've Got the Curse of Curves)

Day 7: Free Day @sjmxreaderweek summary: Backstage. One night. No regrets. The track says too much—but that night said it louder. (A bonus fic for my Wings of Illyria AU) word count: 7.2k content: [ explicit sexual content, oral sex (male receiving), praise, dirty talk, fingering, pet names (sweetheart, baby, i think thats it), condom (i know, shocker for me), mentions of sacrilege, cigarettes, smoking, explicit language ] author's note: HERE SHE IS, im really excited to hear what yall think of this one :) i really loved working to tie in the lyrics i already established in previous parts to this one :) ✦ . AU Masterlist . ✦

Security had pulled you from the pit like it was routine — like girls were ushered out of the crowd for private encores every night. One of them checked your ID with the flat disinterest of someone who’d done it a hundred times before, just long enough to confirm you were over eighteen before waving you through. You kept waiting to wake up, to be told it was a mistake, some kind of cruel joke. But the moment stretched on, and reality was still here, pressing against you with an undeniable heat.

Azriel was leaning against the wall with a crumpled bottle of water, shirt clinging to his chest, damp with sweat from the stage lights that still seemed to kiss his skin, glowing like he was something otherworldly. His eyes flicked up the moment you walked in, and for a split second, it felt like the world around you stilled. 

You stopped a few feet away, suddenly aware of everything—the way your hair clung to your neck, the heat in your face, the way your heart was hammering. His gaze never left you, heavy with something that had you second-guessing the ground beneath your feet. 

But then, that smirk. The one he wore on stage, in press releases, in interviews. You knew it was just part of the act—the same cocky, rehearsed charm he gave everyone—but directed at you it was different. He unscrewed the bottle of water, lifted it to his lips, and drank, the sound of it strangely intimate. Azriel’s eyes didn’t leave yours the whole time. 

“Hey, beautiful. What’s your name?”

You told him, voice caught somewhere between awe and nerves, your eyes locked on his—but your focus kept drifting, low and traitorous, to where his tattooed fingers twisted the cap back onto his bottle. It shouldn’t have been as distracting as it was. It was like he was already imagining what he’d do with his hands when he got them on you.

And when he repeated it, slow and low, like he was already tasting it—fuck. Your legs nearly gave out.

“I—” you swallowed, your throat suddenly dry, nerves flickering like static beneath your skin. “You were really great out there. I mean, I’m sure you hear that all the time. But I—” You winced, cringing at the way the words tumbled out too fast, already regretting trying to sound cool. “Sorry. That was stupid.”

But he just smirked, slow and sure, like he was amused at your attempt to stay composed. “No, it wasn’t.” His gaze never wavered, an almost predatory gleam in those hazel eyes as they flicked down to your lips, a deliberate pause in the air. And then, without missing a beat, he said, “C’mon.”

He reached for your hand. You hesitated for all of half a second, then took it. 

Azriel’s fingers laced through yours like it was second nature. Like he’d done it a thousand times before. Like it wasn’t the kind of thing that would reroute the entire rest of your life.

You followed him through the back hallway—dim, humming with bass still trapped in the walls, cords snaking across the floor, scattered flyers and crumpled setlists littering the ground. The air smelled like beer, sweat, and the heavy, lingering scent of smoke, the kind of grit that hung in the air after a show, when the stage lights had dimmed but the energy was still burning. His hand was warm, rough, calloused. You couldn't stop looking at it—or at him, broad shoulders, the sharp line of his jaw, the glint of a silver chain nestled against his skin. 

“You always pick someone out of the crowd?” you asked, trying to sound casual. Normal. Like you hadn’t screamed every word of his songs twenty feet from the stage ten minutes ago.

He glanced over, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Only when she looks like she wants it bad.”

You huffed a laugh. “Pretty sure that was half the front row.”

“Yeah, but only one of them kept mouthing the guitar riffs.”

Your cheeks burned. “Okay, that’s embarrassing.”

“No,” he said, his voice low, “that’s hot.”

You couldn’t tell if your stomach flipped or bottomed out.

He kept walking like he hadn’t just short-circuited your brain. “So, you come to a lot of shows?”

“First time seeing you live,” you lied. “Been a fan for a while, though.”

Azriel shot you a quick look, brow lifting. “Just a fan?”

You bit your lip, trying not to think too hard about the cardboard cutout you and your roommate had in your freshman dorm. Or the playlist in your phone titled ‘Azriel’s Soundtrack for When He’s Fucking Me Into Oblivion’. Or the handful of other Wings of Illyria concerts you’d gone to. You’d even bought tickets to a show they were only opening for—left after their set without even seeing the headliner.

“A big fan.”

He grinned—full teeth, devastating—and looked ahead again. But your gaze wandered, flicking toward every open door, every voice in the distance. Somewhere in your head, the whisper returned: what are you doing, this is insane—

Azriel slowed, his eyes still ahead. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you said, too quickly.

He stopped, turned to face you fully. The hallway was dim and quiet, the distant sounds of teardown echoing faintly behind you. You could feel the heat radiating off of him, the sharpness in his gaze as he studied you. 

“You keep looking around,” he said, voice low. “Don’t want to be seen with me or something? Any little boyfriends I should know about?”

You opened your mouth, intending to deflect, to joke—but his hand slid up, fingers brushing the bare skin beneath the hem of your shirt, and your breath caught.

“Jealous already? We haven’t even kissed yet.”

But he was still touching you, palm spreading against your waist like he meant to leave a print there. 

“Besides,” you let your eyes drag over him, slow and deliberate—the damp shirt clinging to every line of his chest, the lazy grip he still had on that half-crushed water bottle, his messy hair, the smudged eyeliner, the mouth that looked like it’d been made just to get you in trouble. “They don’t have a greenroom or a god complex, so… it’s not exactly a competition.”

He laughed—a short, rough thing, punched out of him like you’d caught him off guard. “You’re funny, (y/n).” And the way he said your name, so effortless, completely undid you in a way you wouldn’t admit to anyone.

“I am,” you managed, your voice tight, strained. “Actually hilarious, once I stop feeling like I might throw up.” And you meant it—you were two seconds away from either cracking a joke or passing out.

Another smile, slower this time. “Relax.” His mouth brushed your temple, his hand now fully beneath your shirt, fingers trailing up your ribs. “No one’ll see, just let me feel you.”

You shivered, not from the cold.

“I just…” you started, glancing past him again—down the hallway, toward a door that had just clicked shut. “I don’t wanna look like one of those girls.”

“What girls?”

“The ones naïve enough to think this means something.”

He didn’t flinch. Just leaned in, his voice like smoke and promise: “Doesn’t have to mean anything.”

A pause, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as his hand slid lower—out from beneath your shirt, fingers trailing along your skin like he couldn’t quite stand to let go..

“Just means right now, it’s you and me.”

Then he opened the door to his dressing room, leading you inside with a gentle pull.

The door clicked shut softly behind you, and for a moment, the room was just a quiet, dimly lit space. A couch sat against the far wall, the remnants of a few discarded bottles and empty cups scattered around. The air felt heavier in here, but it was still comfortable, like you could actually breathe for a second after the chaos of the show.

Azriel stepped further into the room and tossed his water bottle onto the couch, letting it roll off with a dull thud. He turned to face you, arms casually crossed over his chest. The easy confidence was still there, but now, in the quiet of the space, it felt a little more grounded, less like the persona he wore on stage.

You couldn’t help but feel the tension—too much of it hanging between you, and yet neither of you seemed in any rush to break it. You shifted your weight, unsure what to do with your hands, your thoughts spinning.

“So…” Azriel started, his voice low, but with no real edge to it. “What’s the deal? You’re in here with me, but you’re not acting like you’ve got a thousand questions or a million things to say.”

You blinked, a little taken aback. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Most people—fans, I guess—they want to talk about the band, the music, all that. They’ve got their script. But you just seem… quiet. A little offbeat, actually.”

You bit back a joke about a musician calling you offbeat—low-hanging fruit, and besides, his voice had gone too genuine for teasing. 

Instead you gave a small shrug, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you looked at him—really looked at him, like you weren’t afraid to see the man behind the persona. “I mean, what’s left to ask? You already put it all out there on stage.”

Azriel tilted his head, like he wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or a challenge. “You think that’s all there is?”

“No, no. I think you’re really good at making people feel like they know you,” you said. “Even if it’s just a story you’re selling.” You paused, then added, “But it’s a good one! Makes people believe.”

That seemed to catch him off guard—just for a second. The smirk flickered, not gone, but softened at the edges. “And you? Do you believe it?”

“I think you want everyone to,” you said, stepping a little closer, feeling bold despite the nervous tremor in your fingers. “But I don’t think you care that much if I do.”

He laughed under his breath, low and rough. “You come with a warning label, or do people just figure it out too late?”

“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’ on purpose. “Not going to cry about you writing a song about someone else, either.”

Azriel’s brow quirked. “What if I said I was writing one about you right now?”

You rolled your eyes, grinning despite yourself. “Then I’d assume it’s a slow night for inspiration.”

That really made him laugh. A full-bodied, caught-off-guard kind of laugh that cracked the air open between you. He crossed the room slowly, like he didn’t want to scare you off, but couldn’t help himself either.

When he stopped in front of you—still standing just inside the doorway, your back barely brushing the closed door—there was less than a foot between your bodies. The heat off him was immediate, dizzying. His voice was lower now, rougher around the edges. “You always this blunt?”

“Only when I’m nervous,” you admitted, eyes flicking up to meet his. “Which, if we’re being honest, is kind of your fault.”

Something shifted in his expression—something that wasn’t the stage persona or the flirty smirk. Just Azriel, the guy beneath all that noise. “Don’t be nervous.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Easy for you to say.”

His gaze dropped to your mouth again, slower this time. He didn’t say anything for a beat, just stared at you like he was memorizing your face, the slope of your jaw, the way your lip caught between your teeth.

“I thought you’d be easy,” he said finally, voice almost more thought than words. 

Your brows rose. 

“Not like that,” he rushed out, hands half-lifting like he meant to ward off the offense. “I just meant—fuck—I thought I had a read on you. But I don’t.” 

You felt your breath hitch.

Azriel leaned in—not touching you, but so close you could feel his words against your skin. “It’s kinda messing with me.”

You swallowed, pulse a wildfire. “Good.”

And that was all it took.

He didn’t lunge or rush—just closed the space between you in a smooth, devastating slide. One hand skimmed your hip, the other cradling your jaw like you were something he’d been craving all night. His lips brushed yours, light and deliberate, a question more than a claim.

You answered without thinking—hands fisting in his shirt, mouth parting just enough to meet him halfway.

The kiss was slow at first—measured, like he was still trying to figure you out. But the second you sighed against him, something in him cracked. His hand tightened on your waist, and he deepened the kiss with a hunger that sent heat straight to your core.

He tasted like sweat and water and something darker, something heady. You barely had time to register how good it was before he was walking you backward, not breaking the kiss, just guiding you until your back met the door. 

Azriel kissed like he performed—confident, intense, a little overwhelming. Every press of his mouth stole more air from your lungs, every shift of his body pushing you harder against the door like he wanted to pin you there and never let you leave. His hands found your waist, your hips, your jaw—possessive but not rough, like he wanted to touch everywhere at once and didn’t know where to start.

You let him. For a while.

Because, god, it was good—the kind of kiss that melted your spine and rewired your thoughts. That made it very clear how he got away with every scandal, every rumor, every headline that should’ve been a red flag but somehow wasn’t.

But then something clicked. A flicker of boldness, of clarity, of fuck-it heat right behind your teeth.

You broke the kiss first—he chased your mouth for a second, frustrated, but you steadied a hand on his chest.

“What—” he started, just slightly breathless.

You didn’t answer. Just grabbed the hem of his shirt like it belonged to you now, like he already belonged to you. And then, with one sharp turn of your bodies, you had his back against the door.

Azriel blinked. His chest rose in a slow, surprised breath. “Oh?”

You didn’t smile. Not really. Just met his eyes as you sank slowly to your knees, one hand dragging down the front of his chest, watching the way his muscles jumped under your touch.

His pupils blew wide. “Fuck.”

“Still think I’m quiet?” you asked, voice low, teasing, as your fingers found the waistband of his jeans.

Azriel’s hand slapped flat against the door behind him, like he needed to ground himself.

“I take it back,” he muttered, already sounding wrecked.

“Good,” you said, undoing the button with infuriating slowness. 

That earned a groan—deep, appreciative, the kind of sound you’d file away forever. His eyes stayed on you, stunned, like he’d just realized you weren’t playing by any of the rules he thought you were. 

When you dragged his jeans down just far enough, he hissed through his teeth, head tipping back against the door with a quiet thud. You pressed a kiss just below his hipbone, slow and deliberate, then another. 

A soft hum vibrated in your throat as you mouthed against the fabric of his underwear, teasing, your lips tracing the ache there. You could feel the size of him even through the thin material, and god, he only seemed to get bigger the more he hardened beneath your touch. 

You wondered how it looked from his angle. A starry-eyed fan kneeling on the dirty carpet of his dressing room, the last place you ever thought you’d be—pressing your mouth to the bulge in his underwear like you were starved, desperate for a taste of him. 

Azriel’s breath hitched, and his hand found your hair, tugging lightly to guide you away from him. “Enough with the teasing,” he muttered, voice rough but the edge of amusement still there. “You’re killing me here.”

Finally you pulled the fabric down, taking him into your mouth inch by inch, and fuck, the sound he made when your mouth wrapped around him was downright obscene.

“Shit—” he choked, breath catching.

You didn’t rush. You savored. Licked and sucked and stroked with practiced ease, drawing long, lazy moans from him like you were playing an instrument you knew intimately. Your hand worked in tandem with your mouth, gliding over wet heat, and his thighs tensed beneath your grip.

“God, (y/n),” he murmured, voice strained. 

That did something to you—hearing him say your name like that. 

A second later, one of his hands finally threaded into your hair, not guiding, just there. His fingers dragged through the strands gently, like he needed to anchor himself. You looked up at him as you took him deeper, watched his chest rise in a sharp inhale, watched his mouth fall open just a little.

His hips twitched. His jaw clenched.

“Fuck, you’re—” His voice cracked off. “You’re really fucking good at that.”

You pulled off slightly, just enough to smirk against his skin, your tongue flicking out again with infuriating confidence.

“I know,” you said, breath warm. Then you took him again, slow, deep, letting your throat tighten around him. Your jaw ached, muscles sore from the effort, and distantly, you wondered how the hell this was going to fit inside you. The thought of it made you flush, but you kept going.

Azriel swore, hand tightening briefly in your hair before smoothing it down, like he was torn between urging you on or just losing himself in it. His eyes were dark, almost dazed, mouth slack, and every muscle in his body was drawn tight like he was barely holding on.

You were about to do it again—just a little deeper, just a little sloppier—when he suddenly grunted and tugged at your shoulders, not rough, but firm.

“Okay—okay,” he said, breath ragged, jaw working as he blinked down at you. “That’s... you need to stop. Now.”

You blinked, lips swollen, mouth still wet, the taste of him warm on your tongue. The fear crept in, sudden and sharp. “Why?” you asked, voice quieter than you meant, uncertain.

His laugh was short and sharp, like he couldn’t believe you had the audacity to ask. “Because if you don’t, I’m gonna embarrass myself.”

You smiled, slow and wicked. “So you can do the whole ‘humble rockstar' thing.”

He gave a breathless laugh, then cupped your jaw in one hand and tilted your face up toward him. “Get off the floor, sweetheart. That mouth should come with a warning.”

You rose, still smug, and he kissed you before you were fully upright—fast, needy, like he couldn’t help it.

Like he needed more.

The kiss turned rough fast—his mouth hard on yours, all tongue and teeth and the kind of heat that made your knees threaten to give. You barely had time to register that he was moving again before he pressed you chest-first to the wall. The cool surface kissed your flushed skin through your top, shocking a little breath from your lips.

Azriel’s front was flush to your back, his breath ragged at your ear, hands already moving with greedy intent. One gripped your hip, steadying you; the other snaked around you and skimmed up the inside of your thigh, dragging the hem of your skirt higher and higher.

And then he paused. You felt it—the stutter in his breath, the twitch of his fingers.

“No fucking way,” he murmured, grinning into the shell of your ear. “You wore this tiny thing and didn’t even bother with shorts?”

You didn’t answer. Your smirk spoke for itself, even if he couldn’t see it.

Azriel groaned—like the sound had been ripped from his chest—and shoved your skirt up around your waist, rough with want. His hand cupped you through your underwear, palm broad and warm and already pressing just right.

You gasped, back arching slightly, and he groaned again, low and hungry.

“That’s evil,” he said, dragging two fingers over the thin fabric. “Fucking evil.”

You whimpered as he circled your clit through your panties, slow and deliberate. His body caged yours, every inch of him crowding you against the wall, hips pressing firm into your ass, his cock thick and hard against you through the fabric. 

And then—swift and smooth—he hooked two fingers in the side of your underwear and pulled them aside.

“Fuck,” he muttered into your neck, fingers sliding through slick like he owns it. “You this wet the whole time?”

You nodded, barely able to breathe, your forehead pressing against the wall, hips twitching back into him.

His fingers moved again, lazy and unhurried, fingers skilled from years of strings and rhythm, stroking like he wanted to memorize every reaction. “You were singing my lyrics like that,” he whispered, “with this pretty little cunt already begging for me?”

A tiny, broken sound escaped you.

He laughed—rough and low, his free hand splaying over your stomach, holding you steady. “Should’ve pulled you up on stage right then,” he said, dragging his fingers higher, circling, teasing. “Let the whole crowd see how much you wanted it.”

Azriel didn’t wait for you to respond. His fingers slid back down, stroking through the mess he’d already made of you, gathering it up like he owned every drop. And then he pressed one inside—slow, thick, knuckle-deep in a heartbeat.

You gasped, eyes fluttering closed as your forehead met the wall with a dull thud.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathed, voice all gravel and sin, “you’re so tight.”

You barely had time to whimper before he added a second, pushing in with more pressure, no resistance. His palm pressed flat against you now, keeping your underwear pulled taut to the side, while his fingers curled just so—finding that spot that made your thighs tremble.

“That it?” he asked, like he already knew the answer. “Right there?”

Your nod was jerky, breath ragged, hands splayed uselessly against the wall. You turned your head, blindly searching for him, and his mouth was there—hot, open, devouring yours like he couldn’t stand not to be kissing you. Your lips parted, tongues brushing—messy and desperate. He was all heat behind you, chest rising fast as his hips rolled forward, like he couldn’t help grinding against your ass, letting you feel every inch of how hard he was.

But your gaze dropped, and your head trailed after it, tracing the lines of ink winding down his forearm—down, down—until they vanished beneath your skirt, where his fingers were still working you open. 

He set a rhythm—slow but deep, purposeful, fingers curling again and again, dragging against that spot like he was trying to ruin you. Your underwear still stretched taut to the side, the fabric bit into the crease of your thigh, an added pressure you could feel with every shift of his hand.

“You’re fuckin’ clenching,” he groaned. “God damn.”

One hand still braced at your stomach, Azriel dipped his head to your neck, teeth grazing skin that was already damp with sweat. 

You blinked, your eyes a little hazy, before you spoke up. “Didn’t that one used to be unfinished?” you asked, voice low. “The wing—on your tricep.”

He slowed, just barely, the rhythm stuttering. “You’ve seen it before.”

You nodded. “The Tiny Desk session. And that festival set—when your shirt came off halfway through.”

A low, incredulous laugh ghosted over your throat. “You really pay attention, huh? Kinda sexy.”

You tried to stifle a laugh. “I mean, it’s hard not to. You’re kind of… hard to miss.”

“Mm,” he hummed, his fingers picking up pace as he pressed deeper. “What else have you seen, sweetheart?”

You blinked, mouth parting—his fingers kept moving, stealing the words before you could speak. “I—I’ve seen a lot of your shows. Recordings, I mean.” You laughed softly, trying to push through the aching heat building in you. “I know you guys’ setlists by heart.”

“Oh yeah?” he murmured against your neck, the smirk in his voice unmistakable. “Go on then—what was the opener for the Late Hours tour?”

“‘Out of Body,’” you breathed, hips twitching against his hand. “Except for that show in Brisbane where it was—fuck—‘Violet Hour.’”

His fingers slowed just enough to make you whine, but it was deliberate—he was listening now. “Jesus. You’re a little encyclopedia, huh?”

You gave a shaky laugh. “Kinda my thing.”

“Mhm,” he said, curling his fingers just right. “So when’s my birthday?”

You blinked, struggling to think. “March… twenty-second?”

He gave a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “What the fuck.”

“And you told GQ you don’t like cake,” you gasped. “Said your mom used to burn—oh god—burn the edges.”

That made him laugh, teeth grazing your jaw. “Fuckin’ hell. You know shit about me you shouldn’t.”

“You’re the one who keeps putting it out there,” you panted.

His fingers didn’t stop, dragging more ragged sounds from your throat. “Feels unfair, though. You’ve got all this shit on me, and I don’t even know what you do.”

You made a noise that was half-moan, half-laugh. “Like… in general?”

“Yes, in general,” he drawled, clearly enjoying himself. “Do you work? Study? Or just professionally stalk musicians?”

“Depends who’s asking,” you managed, voice catching as his thumb traced slow, maddening circles, so precise you knew you’d never manage it again without him.

“I’m asking,” he murmured, picking up the pace again. “C’mon. You told me my fuckin’ birthdate. Least you can do is tell me yours.”

Your mouth opened—nothing came out at first. The next slow thrust of his fingers had you gasping, voice faltering before the answer finally slipped past your lips.

He hummed, satisfied. “See? Was that so hard?”

“You’re making it hard.”

“That’s kinda the point.” The cockiness in his voice alone could have pushed you over—but then came that quiet chuckle, right against your ear, low and smug and fucking lethal.

But just as the wave crested, as your body tensed and your breath caught, he stopped.

Pulled his fingers out, dragged them slow down the inside of your thigh like he knew what he was doing, like he meant to leave you there—trembling, soaked, and aching.

You whimpered in protest, hips shifting back, desperate for any kind of contact, but he just chuckled, breath still hot against your ear.

Then—his hands were on your waist, spinning you. Your back hit the wall with a soft thump, and Azriel was already there, crowding into your space, his fingers dragging up your bare thighs before settling on your hips.

He looked wrecked—hair a mess, pupils blown wide, lips parted like he couldn’t quite catch his breath. And he was watching you like he was deciding whether to devour you slowly or ruin you in one go.

He bent, hands curling around your ankles, lifting one foot at a time to unbuckle your heels and slide them off, setting them aside with surprising care. Then his hands were under your skirt, pushing it up, up, until he had it bunched around your waist. A quick, rough tug at the waistband and your underwear was gone—torn clean off, like it was never meant to survive this.

Your top came next. He peeled it up over your head, fingers skimming your skin, and your bra was unclasped and discarded with barely a breath between.

Then his hands were back on your body—hot and greedy, like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch first.

You reached between your bodies, brushing over the exposed length of him—still hard and glistening. He hissed between his teeth. “Not helping,” he growled.

You smiled up at him. “Then hurry up.”

Azriel shoved his shoes off, then kicked his jeans and boxers the rest of the way down, stepping out of them completely. He turned, muttering something under his breath as he dug between the couch cushions. A second later, her came up with his wallet, flipping it open with practiced ease. 

You watched, dazed, as he pulled out a condom. Wallet condom. Of course. 

At least if this somehow knocked you up, your baby daddy was hot and rich. The kid would be set. 

Before you could fully imagine a life and kids with him (as if you hadn’t before), he was on you again—all of him. Bare chest pressed to yours, the heat of him bleeding into your skin. He didn’t wait. One hand slid behind your knee, hitching your leg up and over his forearm, opening you to him as he stepped in close—so close. His other hand braced the wall beside your head, steadying both of you.

“Loud,” he murmured, lining up. “Bet you’ll be loud for me.”

Your mind went static. Any reply you would have come up with died in your throat as he pushed in, thick and slow, dragging a shattered moan from your lips as he filled you inch by inch. The stretch burned in the best way, a pressure that made your spine arch, your fingers scrambling for purchase on his shoulders, his arms, anything.

“Fuck,” he breathed, eyes locked on your face like he couldn’t decide what to focus on—your parted lips, your fluttering lashes, the way your body clenched around him. “You feel—shit—perfect.”

You could barely answer, your mind dissolving as he drew back and thrust in again, the rhythm sharp. The wall thudded softly behind you with every motion. One foot barely held steady on the ground, the other still hooked tight in his grip like he dared you to move.

He leaned in close, lips grazing your jaw as he murmured, “Look at you. Taking it so fucking well.”

Your head tipped back, the words like gasoline, and he took the opportunity—mouth on your throat, teeth grazing skin, hips snapping forward again, harder this time. The slick drag of him, the sound of skin meeting skin, the low growl in his chest—it all worked in tandem, pushing you further, higher.

“Bet you’ve touched yourself to my music before,” he whispered, pumping deeper, rougher now.

You let out a sound—half protest, half moan—and he grinned against your throat, wicked.

“What was it?” he pressed. “One of the slow ones? Something filthy?”

His hand slid up to your chest, fingers teasing over your nipple in lazy circles before giving a firmer roll, then settling there to hold you steady. “Which one, baby?” he murmured. “Which song made you spread your legs and think about my cock?”

“‘Glass Chapel,’” you gasped, a broken sound, and he groaned—a guttural, desperate sound like you’d cracked something open in him.

“No fucking wonder you were only singing my parts out there.” His eyes dragged over your face, catching the way your cheeks flushed, lips parting like you’d been caught. His smirk deepened. “Yeah. I noticed. Was it the bridge? Yeah? Yeah, baby, knew that bridge would ruin you.”

“It did,” you breathed, your fingers digging into the muscle of his arm as he angled his hips to hit exactly where you needed. “I came so hard I—” He sped up—the wet, obscene sound of his efforts echoing in the dressing room, shameless and slick. “God, I had to pause it.”

Azriel snapped. One arm locked tight around your waist, the other already hooked under your thigh as he lifted you—effortless, like you weighed nothing. He pressed you into the wall, firm but careful, his body pinning you there. Your legs locked tight around his waist, arms flying up around his neck. You buried your fingers in his hair as he thrust into you hard enough to make your breath stutter, raking your nails down his scalp when the angle hit just right. He groaned against your chest, then dipped his head to suck your nipple into his mouth, tongue hot and insistent.

“Song’s old,” he growled, voice muffled against your skin. “Let me give you something new to touch yourself to.”

You whimpered something that wasn’t a word, hips tilting to meet every thrust like your body was chasing him on instinct. The stretch of him was dizzying, unbearable in the way only perfect things could be, and when his teeth grazed your nipple, a shock of pleasure bolted down your spine.

“Feel that?” he muttered against your skin. “Every time you play that song now, you’re gonna feel this.”

He slammed into you again—deep and brutal, but never careless—and your moans turned strangled. Your head tipped back against the wall, nails dragging harder through his hair until he hissed.

His breathing was ragged as he pulled back just enough to speak, eyes dark and intense. “When I saw you out there… The way the lights hit you, how you looked at me—like you were waiting for me to see you.” His voice dropped lower. “I wondered what you’d sound like if I ever got you alone. If your voice would shake when you said my name.”

Your body seized around him at that, the raw confession cutting through the fog in your mind like lightning.

“Oh, you like that,” he growled, almost laughing as your hips rolled down against him, helpless. “Knew you were filthy, baby. Knew it when you looked me up and down the second you got backstage. When you told me you got yourself off to goddamn ‘Glass Chapel,’ Jesus Christ.”

You huffed a breath, teeth sinking into your lip. “It was the Hail Marys that did me in.”

He stilled suddenly, eyes flashing, like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard you right. Then he breathed out a low, stunned laugh—more breath than sound. “You’re kidding.”

You didn’t say a word, just shook your head—lips parted and red, hair a wreck, sweat catching the dim light on your skin. You were sure you looked completely fucked out, and God help you, you loved what it did to him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, jaw tight as he thrust into you again, slower this time. “That shit’s not even subtle.”

A bitter smile curved his mouth. “Didn’t think you’d be into the whole martyr complex. You got a confessional kink, too? Or is it just the guilt that gets you off?”

You tried to glare at him, but it collapsed into a moan as he found that merciless rhythm again, your head falling back against the wall. “You’re cocky as hell,” you managed, breathless, “but I thought about this every night and still didn’t think you’d be this good.”

Azriel let out a rough laugh, hips slamming into you like your praise lit something in him. “Yeah?” he panted, mouth dragging over your throat. “Say that again.”

You dug your nails into his shoulders, lips brushing his ear. “You’re better than I imagined, Azriel.”

He groaned, low and rough, and buried his face in your neck like he needed a second to pull himself together. “Fuck, baby.” His voice was ragged. “Keep talking like that and I’m not gonna last.”

A smug smile curled on your lips, despite how wrecked you felt. “What, you want me to lie instead?”

Azriel laughed, breath hot against your skin. “No, keep talking.” His hands tightened around your thighs as he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, pupils blown wide. “Tell me what you want, (y/n).”

When his hips slammed into you again, deeper than before, the words spilled from your lips without a second thought. “I want you to fuck me like you can’t get enough. Make me scream so hard I forget where I am, who I am—I don’t care, I just want to feel you all over me, Azriel, until I can’t walk, can’t think, just you. Fucking me. Over and over.”

The sound of your pleasure bounced off the walls, loud and unrestrained, but you didn’t care. Nothing mattered except the way he made you feel. You couldn’t stop it, couldn’t stop him as he drove you toward something reckless and burning.

Azriel’s breath came in short, ragged bursts, and his eyes darkened with a wicked, almost feral gleam. “Fuck, (y/n),” he growled, voice rough and shaking. “Fuckin’ perfect goddamn pussy. Made for me to fuck it, huh? Yeah, baby, and that filthy fuckin’ mouth—I could fuck you like this forever, you know that?”

You whimpered, one hand sliding between your bodies, fingers working your clit in tight, desperate circles. “So close,” you gasped, eyes fluttering shut. “Don’t stop, Azriel—fuck, don’t stop.”

His hips stuttered at the sight, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Shit—look at you,” he rasped, eyes locked on where your bodies met. “Rubbing yourself while I fuck you. You feel too fuckin’ good to be real.”

His voice broke on the last word. And then he lost it—thrusts erratic, bruising, as a groan tore from his throat and he came hard, spilling into the condom with a raw, guttural sound like it was dragged from the pit of him.

But he didn’t stop. 

He kept moving, fucking through it, pace rough and messy with the aftershocks, and the overstimulation only pushed him harder. The rhythmic slap of his skin against yours grew louder, the pressure building in your core, until you were coming with a cry, back arching as heat tore through you like wildfire. 

Your whole body shook. Your legs trembled. And finally, finally, he slowed. 

Azriel leaned into you for a second, breath ragged against your skin, before finally easing out with a low, involuntary hiss, your bodies slick and trembling where they met. 

Without a word, he adjusted his grip on you, one arm locked beneath your thighs, the other bracing your ass as he carried you from the wall like he hadn’t just demolished you. Like you weren’t still gasping in his arms.

“Hold on,” he muttered, voice rough, and you instinctively clung tighter, arms looped around his neck. He shifted one hand, reaching for the blanket slung over the back of the couch, and shook it out with an easy flick before laying it across the cushions.

Then he knelt, lowering you onto it with a care that shouldn’t have felt so reverent after what he’d just done.

While you melted into the soft spread—mind blank, body humming—Azriel rose and padded over to a trash bin tucked near the corner. He peeled the condom off with one hand as he walked, tied it off, and tossed it without pause.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. 

There was something unshakably magnetic about the way he moved—casual and unhurried, like he wasn’t Azriel, the bassist every dive bar daydreamed about and the reason half the crowd screamed louder during the breadowns, but just some guy cleaning up after the best sex of your life. His shoulders rolled as he walked, loose and satisfied, and there was a certain quiet confidence in the slope of his spine, like he didn’t need to say a word to know you were still reeling. 

He made his way to the mirrored dressing table—small, utilitarian, built into the wall—and grabbed a towel and a battered pack of American Spirits off the cluttered surface. Your eyes trailed after him, helpless not to admire the ripple of lean muscle across his back, the taper of his waist, the tight curve of his ass. Even his legs—long, strong, littered with faint bruises and a thin, silvery scar running vertical over one knee—had you clenching around nothing. Azriel looked like he was carved for sin and didn’t even know it. Or worse—did know, and just didn’t care. 

The cardboard crinkled in his palm as he tapped one loose and caught it between his lips, already moving back toward you. With the lighter tucked inside the carton, he slid it free one-handed, thumb dragging the wheel with practiced ease.

Back on the couch, he dropped down beside you, one arm thrown over the backrest to hook around your shoulders. The flame lit with a soft chk as he sparked the cigarette to life, the glow briefly catching on the sharp cut of his jaw, the relaxed slant of his mouth.

Then, without so much as a look, he held the towel out to you, a fluffy rolled up green thing—just a quiet offer, casual and thoughtless, like it was muscle memory. You took it with a still-shaky hand and an even shakier thank you. 

Azriel leaned his head back and took a long drag, exhaling like he didn’t have a care in the fucking world.

And you? You stared.

You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t fucking believe it.

Azriel—the Azriel—was sitting beside you like you hadn’t just been pressed against a wall, stuffed full and screaming his name like a prayer. Like he hadn’t just wrung you out with his hands on your thighs and your voice in his ear. He was right there, cigarette in hand, the taste of him still on your tongue.

A shaky breath left you.

You needed a cigarette—

So you reached out and plucked his from between his lips, slow and deliberate, your index and middle fingers brushing the corner of his mouth.

He turned to look at you, one brow arched in lazy disbelief, but there was unmistakable amusement in his eyes.

You didn’t say a word. Just brought it to your mouth and took a long, deep drag—slow enough to make a point, greedy enough that you knew he’d taste it when he got it back. Smoke curled from your nose, then your mouth, a slow exhale through parted lips.

Only once the breath had fully left you did you glance at him—then carefully, precisely, placed the cig back where it belonged, tucking it against his mouth like you were returning something borrowed.

Azriel let you do it, didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. Just took another drag like nothing about this was abnormal.

You busied yourself with the towel—more for something to do than out of any real modesty, dabbing between your thighs like it might distract from the buzz still lingering in your limbs.

What were you supposed to do now?

Just get dressed and leave? That felt weird.

Say thank you? Even weirder.

Make conversation? Try to pretend like this wasn’t the craziest thing that had ever happened to you?

You avoided looking at him, trying not to think too hard, trying not to come across like you were thinking too hard. But your thoughts were looping, loud and nervous, until—

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his expression shift. A sharp inhale, eyes widening mid-drag, followed by a low, almost startled curse.

Then:

“You wouldn’t mind signing an NDA, would you?”

You blinked, turning to look at him. “Isn’t that supposed to be before?”

Azriel exhaled smoke through a crooked grin, one brow raised, all lazy charm and unapologetic sin. “I forgot,” he said, voice rough with amusement.

He tilted his head toward you, like he could already see you agreeing, like he knew exactly what you’d say next.

And fuck—you probably would sign it.

[irithiadourden]

Come back home

Pairing: AzRis x f!reader

Summary: You decided to ignore Azriel and went on that mission alone, knowing that there was a chance it could go wrong. A furious Azriel takes you to the Forest House where Eris heals your wounds. There is a moment when things seem to look very bad, but fate has other plans for the three of you.

Words: 1,081

Warnings: A little bit of angst? mentions of blood.

Day 3 of @sjmxreaderweek Fate

N/A: This is my first time writing this style of fic (characters x reader), so have mercy.

Div by @olenvasynyt ❤️

As Azriel carefully deposited you on an unfamiliar bed, it didn't take you long to realise that you weren't in the Night Court, especially when Autumn's High Lord appeared at your side with the same desperate look on his face as the Shadowsinger.

"She's lost a lot of blood, she has a deep cut on her thigh and several serious bruises on the rest of her body."

Eris wasted no time in answering him, instead approaching your almost motionless form on the now crimson stained sheets. His hands were quick and methodical as he moved over the points Azriel had indicated, healing and using magic to mend skin, muscle and internal wounds. The look of concentration did little to hide the panic and worry that could be seen in his amber eyes.

Being so close, a little dizzy and with the adrenaline starting to drain from your system, you couldn't help but think back to what you had buried a few years ago. As Azriel's right hand, one of his most trusted spies, personally trained by him, you had been in direct contact with Eris on more than one occasion, especially when the Koschei problem had arisen.

At first, each meeting had been tense and left you in a terrible mood, but over time you had begun to look forward to seeing him again. Sometimes you had wondered if he felt it too, the lingering tension between the two of you, but when the mate bond had snapped for him and Azriel, you automatically dismissed any possibility. Azriel was your friend .... and so much more, a person you loved and trusted blindly, the thought of betraying him in any way was unfathomable.

"Hey, you need to stay awake." Eris's deep, rich voice was like a caress. But it wasn't your fault that sleep made your eyelids flutter.

Azriel hadn't said a word since he'd put you there and told Eris where to find your wounds so he could heal you. It didn't take a genius to know that his anger was about to erupt. Swallowing hard, you used what little breath you had left to blurt out to him in an almost inaudible tone.

"I'm sorry."

That seemed to break something in him, for his stoic expression was wiped away, replaced by one of fear. In a second, his scarred hands were on your face. "Do you have any idea how terrified I was when I found out you disobeyed a direct order and went there anyway?"

You barely smiled. It was dangerous, but someone had to do it. And you were less important. You could sacrifice yourself to buy them time.

You wanted to tell him again that you were sorry, even if it was a lie, to try and wipe the despair and pain from his eyes. But you couldn't.

Eris had said something out loud, sounding worried, practically screaming.

Your eyes closed for a second, just long enough to rest. Azriel was still holding your face, and you were almost sure he was repeating your name.

The place you were in was dark, too dark even for a creature of the night like you. You were used to starry skies and snow covered peaks, to the fire that softened the freezing nights when you were out on a mission and far away. This thick blackness was just that, an emptiness that made you feel so lonely you wanted to cry. You wanted to wake up again to see Eris, to thank him for healing you. You wanted to tell Azriel that you had valuable information, that it had been worth the pain, just to take the weight off his shoulders.

But the darkness whispered, pushing you further and further away.

For an instant, you were completely filled with regret. You could not believe that you would never again be able to see the smile on Eris's face as his smokehounds greeted you. You couldn't understand the injustice of knowing that you would never wake up again to enjoy the feeling of flying, safe in Azriel's arms.

It was then, as you began to drown in the darkness, that two bright golden stars appeared in the middle of the threatening night. They were so beautiful, dancing as if to show you the way back. You decided to follow them because you wanted to return to the light. You wished to open your eyes and desperately tried to hold on to the warmth they made you feel, a sensation that enveloped your soul.

"Our mate," the two males holding your body whispered, their faces showing the surprise of this revelation.

It took you a moment to understand, to come to your senses. But then you realised what they meant. You could feel it, the golden thread that wrapped around your heart, bonding you not only to Azriel, but to Eris as well. And you could also sense the connection between them. You were so confused that you were not sure if you were breathing.

It was the lips of the High Lord that anchored you to reality, as ardent as the fire that ran through his veins. And then, while Eris embraced you, trembling slightly as if still too moved by the news, Azriel kissed you with all the love and anger of what had just happened. You felt his apprehension, his relief, the deep love that was there, which now gave rise to no guilt or doubt.

That evening, the two of them took it upon themselves to stay awake and take care of you. They wouldn't let you fall asleep for a few hours just to be sure, as if fear wouldn't allow them to be away from you for even a second until they were sure you were totally okay. There were so many questions to answer, so much to say, but that could wait until the next day.

Right now, as exhaustion finally took its toll, all you could do was smile, incredibly happy and blessed, for while Azriel embraced you from behind, wrapping his wings around you and Eris, Eris had settled his head on your chest, listening to the sound of your heartbeat to lull him to sleep.

These two males, your mates... you could only thank the Mother and Fate for allowing you to return to them. You had no intention of letting them go, just as they had shown you with every word and gesture that they would not let you go either.

[captainsophiestark]

Home Is In Your Arms

Rhysand x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for day six of the @sjmxreaderweek event!

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Day Six Prompt: Adventure/Home

Summary: Rhys and his mate have both had exhausting days. Luckily, they're both home to get some rest together.

Word Count: 1,075

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I sighed as I shoved open the door to the townhouse, my whole body heavy. I'd walked miles across Velaris today, running basic errands, meeting with people who needed to talk to me as High Lady, crossing off administrative tasks I had not wanted to deal with, and checking in on a handful of people and projects. My planned day had started out with much less to do, but things just kept coming up in the past few days, until I didn't have a choice but to do one thing after another from sun up to sun down today.

My muscles ached and my head felt dulled and tired. All I wanted to do was flop into my bed and shut down for the rest of the night. I strode though the front door of the Velaris townhouse, intending to do just that. No one else was supposed to be here tonight, which meant I'd have the place to myself to go down like a sack of bricks.

I glanced into the living room on my way to the stairs, only to stop dead at the sight of a very familiar figure already laying on the couch, one arm across his eyes.

"Rhys?"

My mate groaned, and despite my exhaustion, a happy little laugh bubbled out of me as I moved around the couch to give him a hug.

"I thought you weren't going to be home from the Court of Nightmares until tomorrow?"

Rhys sighed, holding me to him a moment longer and leaving one hand tangled in my hair, even as we pulled back enough to speak.

"For the first time in hundreds of years, I managed to finish business with Keir earlier than expected. I knew you were busy in the city today, so I was hoping to surprise you here when you got home. I... may have caved in to my own tiredness while I waited."

I just smiled and put a hand to my mouth, trying and failing to hide my grin.

"Well, it's honestly an amazing surprise. Although I'm so tired I almost walked straight past you to go collapse in bed."

Rhys gave me a tired smile, shifting on the couch so he could put his arms around me. I leaned back against his chest and the two of us sank down into the cushions together. Instantly, the last few lingering stressors of the day melted from my mind as I sunk into the comfort of the person I loved, my best friend in the world.

"I think we've just made a critical mistake," I said after a moment. I had to fight to keep my eyes open, comfortable and content as I was against Rhys's chest, and the only response he could muster was a soft hum against the shell of my ear. "...I don't think I could get up from this position if my life depended on it."

Rhys huffed another laugh, shifting and tightening his arms around me but making no moves to get up.

"Well, then we may just have to give in to our fate and sleep here, just like this."

I smiled, turning on my side to curl into Rhys. I could hear his heart beating as I laid my head on his chest, and my own heartrate slowed in response. The streets of Velaris were nice and quiet outside, and so was the house around us. Slipping into a peaceful sleep with him here would be the easiest thing in the world.

"...I just feel like we're going to regret the decision in the morning, when we wake up as sore as if we'd been training with Cass and Az. Or worse, when one of us kicks the other off the couch in our sleep in the middle of the night."

Rhys let out the heaviest, most drawn-out sigh I'd ever heard in my life. He practically went liquid beneath me, apparently trying to merge his form with the couch completely. But then, on the inhale, he suddenly stood, scooping me up into his arms in the process.

We just stood there for a moment in the living room, Rhys holding me as I looked at him in surprise.

"I can't believe you actually managed to leave our couch. That's my High Lord, right there. Ultimate resolve and power."

Rhys snorted and rolled his eyes, but I caught him smiling all the same.

"If it had just been me, I couldn't have done it. But to make sure my High Lady doesn't wake in the morning with a neck that feels broken from her chosen sleeping position? I found the strength."

I laughed again as Rhys squeezed me tighter, then started heading for the stairs. I'd been a zombie when I'd first walked through the door of the townhouse, but just being around Rhys was enough to bring me back from the brink. I still needed to sleep, now, but the utter exhaustion mind, body, and soul and the buzzing in my brain had been alleviated.

We tumbled into bed together, both of us taking a moment to ditch the street clothes before wiggling under the blankets in a way incredibly undignified for the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. Of course, neither of us particularly cared.

I curled up against Rhys's chest again, laying my head over his heart so I could hear its soft, steady beat as I drifted off to sleep. His arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me tight into his side, and he placed a gentle, sleepy kiss on my forehead once we'd settled in. We'd never even bothered to turn on the lights.

"I'm glad I made it home to you tonight," he mumbled, clearly already halfway to sleep. "I don't think I could've gone another night in the Court of Nightmares without seeing you."

"I'm glad you made it home tonight, too," I said, my voice just as weak and sleep-affected. "It was a long day. But it's easy to forget about it all with you."

I felt Rhys smile against my forehead, and he gave me one last little squeeze before his body relaxed. I could tell from his breathing he'd fallen almost immediately into a deep sleep, and I wasn't far behind him. I was home safe, in the loving arms of my mate, snuggled up together in our bed. There was nothing else in the world that mattered to me more than what I had here.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21 @diego42

Maasverse Taglist: @lilah-asteria

[littlest-w01f]

Sjmxreader Week 2025

MAIN MASTERLIST

For @sjmxreaderweek

Day 1 - Beginnings/Endings

Baked Pies (Rhysand x Reader) {fluff/smut}

Summary: Learning to cook as a young Illyrian female was something quite important, but you just didn't get the memo, leading to messes and a very amused mate who would rather offer you food.

Day 2 - Friends/Family

Just A Bond (Helion x Reader) {fluff/tension}

Summary: You know that your family loves Helion, but still telling them he's your mate, given that he's been your dad's close friend longer than you've been alive was nerve-racking, till you get caught with him.

Day 3 - Fate/Choice

Choosing You (Mor x Reader) {smut}

Summary: A mating bond was something that was supposed to be the perfect fit, but a male wasn't one you were looking for. Who you wanted was your brother's very forced bride and apparent mate.

Day 4 - Villain/Hero

Horrible Person? (Rhysand x Reader) {angst/fluff}

Summary: Your mate killed you abusers, perhaps it would be easier to not feel guilty if your abusers weren't your parents and you mate the High Lord they deemed evil.

Day 5 - Heirs/Lords & Ladies

Captive Family (Tarquin x Reader) {hurt/comfort}

Summary: Being mated to someone from the royal family was frightening, while you were trapped Under the Mountain, pregnant with the only future of the Summer Court, with everyone else dead, and your mate now the High Lord.

Day 6 - Adventure/Home

Settled Down (Azriel x Reader) {fluff}

Summary: The scariest spies the Night Court had ever had, you and your mate, brutal, sadistic and brought to your knees by the nonsensical babbling of your little twins.

Day 7 - Free Day

Tensed (Cassian x Reader) {angst, comfort}

Summary: Cassian returned home from Illyria, his wings and shoulders wound up tight. You weren't one, but you understood how it hurt him, knowing he needed you more every time he flew back.

Hope you all enjoy :)

[potatoplace]

Telling the Parents

SJM x Reader Week Day 2: Friends/Family @sjmxreaderweek

Azriel x Rhys's-Sister!Reader

Event Masterlist | ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist | AO3 Link

Summary: After months of dating, you finally feel ready to tell your parents that you're with Azriel. Even with Azriel's reassurances, you're still nervous for your father's reaction.

Warnings: mild choking (violence not sexy), mild threats

Words: ~1.3k

Author's Note: this was cute to write, not entirely sure how much sense it makes lol. Also... Cassian 😂 I imagine especially when he was younger he just existed shirtless unless he was required to wear armor. I hope you guys like this one!

18+ only pls

🤍💙🤍💙🤍

You took in a nervous breath as you stared at the door, eyes only drawn away when gentle fingers gripped your hand.

“Are you ready? We could always wait a bit longer,” Azriel suggested, though you could hear the slight sadness in his tone at the idea.

“No, I’m done waiting,” you replied, gazing into his warm hazel eyes, your wings fluttering lightly at the sight. “I’m done hiding that I love you, that I want to be with you. My parents will just have to accept that fact.”

A soft smile spread across his lips, and he leaned in to kiss you gently. “I’m glad to hear that, love.”

You smiled back, feeling more ready now that he’d kissed you - a reminder of why you were currently standing outside of your father’s office.

You knocked on the door firmly, your father replying a moment later, “Come in.” The door opened without a sound after you turned the knob, and you stepped inside, followed closely by Azriel.

Thankfully, your mother was sitting next to your father, her violet eyes quickly flicking between the two of you, a knowing sparkle entering her eyes.

Of course she would figure it out before you’d even said a word.

“Daddy, mama, it’s nice to see both of you,” you said nervously, trying to gauge what mood he was in. His onyx eyes had stars in them, gleaming dimly. That was a good sign.

“It’s good to see you too, little one,” he said warmly, though his eyes stayed on the male behind you. “Azriel, my boy, what brings you here? And with my lovely daughter, no less?”

A lip was tugged between your teeth as you waited for Azriel’s response, wishing that your father had given you a moment to explain why you were here.

“Y/N and I have something that we’d like to share with the both of you,” Azriel replied confidently, the wing nearest you moving to curl around you.

Onyx eyes narrowed dangerously, the air between you charged with tension. “Oh?”

“Daddy, Azriel and I are in love. We have been for a few months-”

Thick, dark night billowed through the room in an instant, void of any stars. Cold wrapped around you, your body moved into a chair with ease by the High Lord of Night’s overwhelming power. Another moment later and the darkness lifted, leaving only a haze of black smoke drifting through the room.

You let out a pained cry when you saw Azriel pinned to the wall, your father’s hands around his throat. Attempting to lift yourself from the chair you found yourself in was futile, bands of dark power holding you in place.

It was your mother’s gentle touch on his shoulder that soothed the rage in his blood, onyx eyes turning to take in the terrified look in your eyes. With a sigh, he dropped Azriel’s throat, the constraints lifting from you at the same time.

Without wasting a moment, you were at Azriel’s side, hands cupping his face gently as he regained his breath. “Azzie?”

One more deep breath before hazel eyes blinked open, meeting yours before turning to the pair behind you. “I know you don’t approve of me being with your daughter, but I will do everything I can to keep her safe. I love her, High Lord, and I hope you’ll allow me the honor of continuing to love her.”

You looked at him with hearts in your eyes, overjoyed that even after your father had nearly killed him, he still loved you more than possible threats to his life.

A sighed sounded behind you, along with the sound of your father sitting back in his chair. You turned slowly, surprised to see your father sitting with his chin in his right palm as he observed the two of you.

“You love her?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you’ll do anything to protect her?”

“Yes, sir.”

Your father hummed as he stared, the weight of his gaze making you want to shift in place, but you restrained yourself.

“And you truly love him?”

You couldn’t help the tilt of your lips as you replied, “Yes, I do daddy.”

“And I can’t change your mind, even if I say… Gave you a permanent residence in Velaris in exchange for you never speaking to him again?”

Instantly, you shook your head. “No, I do not want to go a single day without seeing Azriel. He makes every day that I see him brighter.” You saw a grin split your mother’s face, the slightest nod of approval letting you know that you were on the right track with your father.

A heavy sigh left him, his onyx eyes closing for a moment. When they opened, they locked onto Azriel’s. “The only reason I am considering this… Courtship… Is due to you recently becoming Carynthian. But believe me, if any harm befalls my darling princess at your hands, physical or otherwise, you will wish I’d stripped you of your memories today. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, High Lord. I will do right by your daughter, and I thank you for giving me this chance. I will not disappoint you,” Azriel said seriously, bowing deeply.

Your father hummed a minute later, allowing Az to right himself. “Now, go… Somewhere else, before I change my mind.”

You clapped your hands excitedly, quickly bounding around his desk, past your mother to squeeze your father tightly. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you daddy!” When you pulled back, constellations swirled in his eyes, the faintest hints of a smile on his face.

You would take that as a win.

Azriel’s hand was in yours as soon as you were in reach, and you shot a bright smile at your father and mother as he led you from the room.

The two of you took off down the hall, giggling as you rounded corner after corner, moonstone walls echoing the heartbeats of your other family members, who also had yet to know of your relationship.

Two turns later and you stumbled across them, lounging in plush, colorful chairs.

You skidded to a halt, Azriel’s scarred hand still gripped tightly in yours as three heads snapped to look at the pair of you.

“Oh, pay up, Cassian!” Mor yelled, smacking Cassian on his bare chest.

He made a wounded noise, rubbing at his chest while he stared at you. “Thanks a lot, you two. Now I owe Mor five bottles of wine from the cellar,” he groaned, likely already coming up with a plan to not get caught stealing from your father.

Rhys was silent for a minute, violet eyes flicking between your face, Azriel’s face, and your intertwined hands.

“Does father know?”

“We just got back from telling him and mama,” you said nervously, more anxious for Rhys’s approval of the relationship than your parents’. After all, Azriel had been his friend first, and he viewed Az as a brother…

“It’s good to see you’re still in one piece then,” Rhys chuckled, standing from his seat. “Which I’m assuming means you’re both serious about each other, so I’d like to offer my congratulations.”

He extended a hand to Azriel once he’d crossed the room, Azriel’s free hand taking it readily.

Two voices cheered from behind you, and a moment later you and Azriel were wrapped in a group hug, your brothers and Mor squeezing you tightly.

They loosened their hold eventually, and Mor pulled your ears to her lips. “I expect to hear everything,” she whispered, eliciting a giggle from you.

Later, you mouthed, your cousin beaming at the promise.

“So… How long have the two of you been fuckin’?” Cassian asked crassly, groaning when he was hit on the chest by four hands.

🤍💙🤍💙🤍

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @meritxellao @twismare @wrenisrad @icey--stars @le-nottibianche

[sjmxreaderweek]

Prompt List & Guidelines

We hope everyone is feeling renewed and refreshed from their holiday celebrations! Here is the prompt list for our very first SJM x Reader Week!

We welcome you to interpret these prompts however you like. Moodboards, fan art, fanfic, playlists, we welcome all creations so long as human creativity went into it. We will not reblog any work using AI. We want to see what your beautiful minds come up with!

Please tag @sjmxreaderweek in your post and use the sjmxreaderweek and sjmxreaderweek2025 tags. We want to be able to reblog your creations, and this will help us find you!

Of course, if you have any questions please feel free to send them our way! Prompt descriptions are below:

Day One: Beginnings/Endings

This is the prompt of firsts and lasts, a chance for joy and heartbreak in equal measure. Tell us how your ship began or show us their final day together. Let us see them starting a new tradition or celebrating one for the last time.

Day Two: Friends/Family

How did they introduce their new significant other to their friends or family? Did they begin as friends? Were they introduced by family? How do the people they love the most factor into their lives?

Day Three: Fate/Choice

We can't fight fate, or can we? Does destiny trump the love you choose for yourself? Or do you defy the gods and choose your own path? Is having a fated mate as sweet as everyone makes it sound?

Day Four: Villain/Hero

Every hero is a villain in someone else's story. And, to some, a villain may be the hero they've been longing for. Is there blood on the hands that held you so sweetly? Did it come from great sacrifice, or was it sweet revenge?

Day Five: Heirs/Lords & Ladies

If SJM loves anything, it's a royal romance. Is your great love heir to a court or kingdom? How does their role or title affect their relationship? Is the head that wears the crown heavy, or does their birthright give them purpose? Does court intrigue play a part in their great romance?

Day Six: Adventure/Home

Come on, it's our chance to head out on an incredible adventure! Do we go find a tulip field in a foreign land for a lovely picnic? Is there danger afoot, do we need to save the world? Or do we stay inside, curled up with a good book and the one we love most? Sometimes the best adventures can be found in the comfort of your own home.

Day Seven: Free Day

Do you have an idea that won't fall under the previous prompts, now matter how loosely you interpret them? Now is your chance to tell us the story you've been wanting to tell! Got a weird AU you've been dying to share? Give it to us now! Write that crossover fic of your dreams. Anything goes!

[manicmanuscription]

UGH PERFECTIONNN their just so cutesy

All this? Over an Heir?

A Neapolitan Bond’s Fic.

Pairing: Azriel/Eris/Reader | Rating: T| Word count: 3341

Master List | Read on A03 | For @sjmxreaderweek day 5 Heir.

Summary: Eris and Azriel are acting strange after a meeting with the Governors that you were not able to attend. You venture to find out what happened. You are not prepared for the truth.

Warnings: Discussion of having children, some slut shaming, off screen murder, some bigotry

A/N: I wasn’t planning on writing this but… it happens. Note the POV shift and the flashback when Eris is telling his story.

Tagging: (I am hoping I got everyone): @myromanempiree @pit-and-the-pen @lilah-asteria @crazylokonugget @st4r-girl-official @thisblogisaboutabook @paleidiot @div94 @tele86 @chaos-on-stand-bi @bobbyisbored @ysmtttty @romantasyreader28 @azrielsshadows42 @stargirlrchive @scarsandallaz @paintedbyshadows @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @acourtofbatboydreams @ninthcircleofprythian @secret-third-thing @theicarustoyourcertainty2 @hieragalbatorixdottir @daycourtofficial @prythianpages

Something was off with Eris and Azriel. 

You knew their tells by now for when something was bothering them. Eris had tense shoulders and a clenched jaw even if it was subtle. Azriel’s shadows flurried more no matter how much he shooed them away. You’d been in the village all day and returned shortly before sundown, so you had no idea what transpired. You waited for them to talk about it at dinner. 

Nothing. 

They only asked how your visit was and told you how the governors meeting started off rocky but ended well. At least by bed they’d relaxed, but still something was off. You’d made it your mission to find out what happened. You outright asked Azriel if he was alright the next day. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” A lie if you ever heard it. 

“Your shadows seemed more active is all,” you shrugged. His wings bristled but he didn’t respond. 

When you went to Eris, you had to ask less direct questions. You asked about any hangups in plans for the month. Issues with the budget. When nothing worked, you asked for the written record of the meeting you missed. That seemed to get a reaction. 

“I would have to find it.” Eris sighed. “It went three hours over and in a tired haze I can’t remember where I put it.” 

Eris never forgot where he put things. 

“When you find it, let me know.” You smiled sweetly. 

You then went through the House looking for one person who could give you information. Charlotte, wife of Elden, was the biggest gossip in Autumn. She heard everything and forgot nothing. You invited her to tea under the disguise of catching up. 

She was an older fae- her brown hair streaked with graying strands. It suited her, with how she pinned it up. She always had a flower in her hair to match her dress. Today it was a marigold and her dress was a velvet yellow. She greeted you with a kiss on the cheek and instantly went to chatting. It only took you a few sips of tea for her to bring up what you’d been waiting on. 

“And poor Lord Hurbert, may The Mother keep him. I plan to visit his wife later today. Though I doubt she will be mourning heavily.” 

“Lord Hurbert passed away?” You tilted your head. He was an elderly fae but not so old he was frail. 

Charlotte’s well maintained brows arched. 

“You didn’t know?” You shook your head. She made a hmph noise. “Elden said that the High Lord who, well” she let her voice trail.

“I’m sorry?” You put your cup down before your grip could break it. 

“That’s what Elden told me. He wouldn’t speak of what happened. Came back from his meeting all shook up. Whatever it was, he did say Hurbert deserved it. The Mother knows the old fool had a temper.”

You sat there in silence. Eris had murdered someone? You felt a coolness against your wrist. You looked down and the shadow that followed you had curled around your wrist. 

“Oh dear, don’t look so distraught,” Charlotte’s voice made you snap out of your haze. “Forty years and this is the first time the High Lord has done away with someone? Lord Beron used to make it a point to torture at least every full moon. Cauldron knows Lord Eris is better than his father. If I may speak plainly, Hubert was a dreadful male. I never knew why Lord Eris let him live when he came to power in the first place.” 

That brought you no comfort. 

“I need to speak with my husband,” you muttered, still in a daze. 

You went to stand and Lady Charlotte stood with you. She grasped your sleeve, her dainty hand holding a tight grip on the fabric. You met her gaze and saw the panic in her eyes. 

“Do not tell the High Lord I told you.” Gone was the humor and haughty tone, replaced with a harsh whisper. “I’d rather not be on the receiving end of his temper should he still have it.”

“Of course, I- I will not tell him,” you said firmly. “I am bound to learn of it soon enough regardless.”

She eased her grip and relaxed her shoulders. “Thank you, Lady.” 

“Of course, Charlotte.”  

You left the south parlor, your boots clicking almost too loudly on the tiles of the hall. The shadow continued to pulse on your wrist. An attempt to get you to keep your breath even. It helped but-

You went into an empty room. You could see some dust as the evening light poured in from the window. There were covers over furniture, bookcases bare along the wall. A fireplace almost pristine in appearance from being unused. Thirty years in this house and you still found secrets. You leaned back against the door after you shut it. 

Eris had killed someone. 

During a meeting no less. 

He didn’t tell you. 

Azriel knew and he didn’t tell you. 

You tugged the bonds. You felt them both tug back twice. You looked down at the shadow. 

“Tell them where I am please,” you whispered. 

The shadow uncurled and disappeared. You waited and didn’t bother to move from the door. They would winnow in. You also didn’t care if sadness poured through the bond to them either. You didn’t have to wait long- a blaze of fire lit up the room and swirls of shadows followed next to it. 

You crossed your arms when they came into view. Eris was in his deep brown riding pants and tight white shirt. You’d forgotten he was going to take his horse out. Azriel smelled like the wind, and he too wore tight clothes, leathers he used for flying. You ignored the concern on their faces and spoke before they could. 

“What happened at that meeting yesterday?” You were curt and to the point. “Do not lie to me.” 

Eris’s face hardened, his hands flexed at his side. He reached up and brushed back his hair from his face. It was back long enough that it fell over his shoulders again. A flame appeared in the fireplace. Without a flick of his hand, magic fell heavy over the room- a ward. He wasn’t your mate at that moment. He was Autumn’s High Lord. 

“Lord Hurbert Graham crossed a line and I handled it.” 

“By murdering him?” You asked loudly. 

You didn’t like that Lord. He constantly made digs at Azriel. Covert ones that you could only mitigate with a stern tone. But it felt wrong. It felt wrong for Eris to have just killed him. It felt too much like the stories you heard of Beron. 

“Eris did him a favor,” Azriel said darkly. His shadows flurried around him. “I wouldn’t have made it as quick.” 

You looked between them both. “What did he do?” It came out as a whisper. 

A flicker of emotion on both of their faces and a painful pulse in the bonds meant it had to be terrible. The fire died down but still burned in the fireplace. Thankfully Eris tampered the heat down from it. Neither of them spoke, so you asked again. 

“I am your mate. I am Lady of this court- a High Lady if you had your way, Eris. I deserve to know exactly what transpired.” 

A moment passed and Eris finally relaxed his shoulders. 

“I am going to need a drink.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Eris convinced you to go to his study and not your chambers. He would not repeat those words within the walls of his refuge. Az was tense. What transpired got to him more than he was letting on. Eris poured himself a shot first and threw it back to try and drown out the look of disappointment on your face from moments ago. He prepped your drink and Azriel’s, which he added a second shot to. It did not go unnoticed by Eris that you sat yours down to the side and looked at him expectantly. 

“Tell me what happened,” you repeated firmly. “And do not coat it in sugar.” 

“If that is what you wish,” He replied. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Lord Eris, may I speak freely?”

The meeting had just started and Eris was already annoyed. The annual governor’s meeting was never enjoyable, But without you- he forgot this was what it was like. Lord Hurbert had waited for a lull in the conversation to poise his question. The eldest of the Governors- save for Elden and Rafael. Hurbert was his least favorite but his loyalty to Eris while his father lived was something he respected. But that was about all Eris cared about. Even looking at him now two seats down, Eris had little care for the male. Even more so due to this interruption. 

“You’ve never been one to hold your tongue before,” Eris replied smartly. Az sent a wave of humor down the bond. 

“Thank you, High Lord.” Hurbert’s smile grated Eris’s nerves. “While I do not doubt we will continue to see times of peace for more decades to come, may the Mother bless us all, there is never a guarantee.” 

Eris felt Azriel tense beside him. “Is there something you know that we don’t?”

He ignored Azriel. An offense Eris took note of to deal with later. Hurbert’s voice grew louder, as if he was trying to captivate everyone’s attention despite already having it. 

“You’ve been High Lord for nearly four decades, Lord Eris. But you’ve taken the mantle much later in life than your- much later than the previous High Lord.“

A knot twisted into Eris’s stomach. “Do you have a point?”

Eris did not hide his frustration this time. Hurbert knew it too, with the way his beady eyes blinked and he shifted in his seat.

“You have a wife now.”

Eris felt unease in the bond to Az. He tried to send back something soothing but knew he failed. 

”She is my mate and Lady of Autumn.“ Eris replied, staring down the male in a way that had him squirming again. “You will address her as such even when she isn’t here.”

“Of course, Lord Eris. We’ve had a new Lady of Autumn now for almost three decades. She is very kind and capable. Arguably she does more work than she has to; I find that admirable.”

”I’ll pass on the compliment.” Eris ensured his tone conveyed the discussion was over. “Shall we continue?”

 Hurbert held up his fingers. ”Actually, Lord Eris-“

”You are testing my patience, Hurbert.” Eris could feel the flames growing in him. “If you want to flatter my mate you may do so on your own time.”

Despite the older male shrinking back in his chair, he continued. 

“My point is, we simply have some concerns.“ 

Azriel spoke before Eris could. ”And what might these concerns be?”

There was a moment of silence. Then Kelvin three seats to the left spoke up. He looked at Eris with a knowing smile and a glint in his eye. Eris trusted him- but the male was as messy as some of the females of the court when it came to gossip and knowing secrets.”

”I want it on record that I, myself, have no concerns High Lord.” 

Kelvin brushed back his short red hair. A signal to Eris that this topic had been discussed before without his presence. He felt his blood start to boil. 

“Nor do I.“ Dresden added. 

Elden, the second oldest male at the table, looked to be sweating nervously. He liked Elden, trusted him since he treated the tenants of his land and the lesser fae well even when his father was alive. He was staring at Hubert. 

“Hurbert, maybe this topic is best suited for a different time.’ He said softly. 

Hurbert turned red in the face. “We have been putting off this topic for thirty seven years.” He turned his round red face to Eris. “High Lord, you’ve been blessed with two bonds. Which is a sure sign that the Mother herself favors you. And yet-“

“Yet what?” Eris said each word slowly and with venom that had the governors closest to him pushing their chairs back.

“You don’t have an heir.” 

The fireplace, which had been empty, came to life behind him. 

“And what consequence is it to you?” Eris leaned back in his chair like a snake waiting to strike. “Carefully consider what words leave your mouth next, Lord Hurbert.”

”It is a valid concern.” He replied weakly. 

“I didn’t realize how I am fucking my mates were anyone's concern but my own.” 

That only seemed to fuel Hurbert’s frustrations. He spoke louder this time. 

“The Cauldron has blessed you with a female. A beautiful, court trained high fae mate.” The glass of water started to steam from the heat Eris began to radiate at his words. “Your mother had three children in the same time frame, and she was simply a wife. The concern is that The Lady’s endeavors may be too ambitious, that she has lost sight of her courtly duties.“ 

Azriel was on his feet, shadow whirling. His knife was already in his hand. “Watch your mouth.”

Hurbert rose to his own feet. Gone was the semblance of weakness he had with Eris. His face skewed into pure disgust as he looked at Azriel. 

“What would a low born Illryian understand about the importance of an heir?”

Eris stood as well. “You’re out of line Graham.” His High Lord voice boomed throughout the room. “This is the last warning I will give you. Silence yourself before I make you.”

Hurbert, somehow redder, looked at Eris with sneer. “Am I out of line? The truth is that so called Lady of Autumn slinks around the house fucking that animal where ever they please like a whore. 

He pointed to Azriel. Then he pointed to Eris. 

“Maybe it is you who has lost sight of the duties to this court, High Lord. If she spent half the time on your cock as she does his, you’d have an heir by now. Or do you plan to follow your father’s lead by letting another breed your wife instead.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“And then,” Eris paused for a moment. “I set him ablaze.”

Az watched you carefully the whole time Eris spoke. He was attuned to every subtle shift in your expression. He sent extra shadows to help keep you calm. But you were surprisingly a statue, still and enraptured with every word Eris spoke. 

“I do not remember much of it. I was too enraged to think.’ Eris continued, his tone turning cold. “He was a pile of ash in an instant. I then commanded everyone else to answer if they had so called concerns or comments about my mates. None of them did.” 

“If they had, they would have been mine to deal with,” Az muttered, more to himself than for you to hear. 

Eris sighed. “I did not want to tell you, love. But you are correct. You deserved to know.” 

You finally blinked, your face still expressionless as you tilted your head slightly. 

“Do you want a child?”

Az knew Eris paled without even looking at him. Children were not something they had discussed with you. Even worse, Az remembered when he and Eris talked about it. Eris had said he was actually thrilled his mate was a male. He didn’t want younglings- he didn’t want to risk becoming like his own father. Nothing Az said deterred him of that opinion.

Then they found you.

But Azriel also knew what you weren’t saying. You left the bond open. All your emotions bubbling under the surface were pushed to him. He could feel you question your own worth. That this is what the court really thought of you. He could envision your embarrassment at the comment that fae had made about you and himself. How people must whisper behind your back for how brazen you were. Az tried to push back his love for you even if it felt like it wasn’t working. 

“It isn’t about what I want,” Eris finally answered. 

“If the court wants an heir, should we not try to give them one?” you ask slowly.

Az felt his blood boiling. “It doesn’t matter what the court wants.”

“I am not a fool, Azriel.” You looked at him with so much sadness in your eyes. “If it is important to the citizens of Autumn, then as their Lady it is important to me.”

“It was one male,” Eris snapped. “A foolish one who clung to the rules of my father. This court doesn’t need an heir. Nor will anyone force you to carry one.” 

“But what if I wanted to?” You whispered. 

Az finally looked over to Eris. He was as pale as he expected. His gaze dropped to the hand around his drink- Az was shocked Eris hadn’t broken it yet. Eris didn’t reply and he felt you turn your gaze to him. 

“And you Az?”

“Out of the question.” He winced at himself for how harsh his tone was. And how you recoiled. “It’s too risky. There is half of a chance the babe would-“

His voice cracked and he swallowed back tears. Images of Feyre slowly dying flashed in his mind. He could hear Rhys’s screaming and a flash of Nyx, so tiny and unresponsive in Mor’s arms. 

He took a deep breath. 

“The baby could have wings. I won’t risk your life like that. I can’t do that to you.” 

A pause. Then you asked, “so neither of you want children?”

“Do you?” Eris asked. 

A mix of emotions flickered in the bond from you. 

“I don’t know,” you looked down at your hands. “Not right now. But if neither of you want a baby then does it truly matter?” 

“It isn’t,” Eris paused again and took a long swing of his drink. He sighed. “I would need time. I am open to children but I would need time. I do not want my past to haunt my children.” 

“But if,” another flood of emotions came through from you. Feelings of worry about Azriel. 

“I would treat any child we have as my own,” Az said firmly. He pushed it through both bonds as well. “You are both my mates. A baby doesn’t have to be of my actual blood for me to love them. I mean that.” 

“Okay.” 

You stared down at your hands. Moments passed and the emotions from earlier resurfaced in the bond. 

“Does everyone really think I’m a whore?” You whispered and your face crumpled. 

“If they did, they would not be alive long enough for it to matter.” Eris’s words were sharp and venomous. “I commanded the governors in that room for a reason. That male said what he did because he thought he could get a rise out of me. But he forgot I am still a Vanserra and he suffered the consequences of that.” 

“He should have suffered more,” Az hissed. 

He was still just a little put out Eris didn’t allow him to end that male’s life. That male had undermined Azriel since the beginning. It was an honest surprise that it took him this long to say something that crossed the line for all of them. Az understood that Eris lost control, but it didn’t make it easier. 

“The people of this court adore you,” Eris said softly and drew Azriel out of his thoughts. “There is not a person in his House who thinks ill of you.”

“I know but,” you wiped your eyes and a laugh escaped you. “I probably have fucked you both in every room of this house.”

“Not every room,” Eris said. 

His statement broke the tension, you bursting into a laughing fit over it. When things settled he and Eris promised to not withhold information this severe again. You were right; you could handle it. Even if Eris and Az both felt you shouldn’t have to.

[inkedinshadows]

The Greatest Gift

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

Summary: Being introduced to a partner's family is always nerve-wracking, especially when Azriel has never talked much about his mother and you don't know what to expect.

Warnings: pregnant reader, barely edited, maybe rushed ending?

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: so sorry for being late in posting this one! Literally wrote the last part today and edited quite quickly so I could post it. Hope you'll enjoy it anyway!

Main Masterlist | Week Masterlist | Azriel Masterlist | AO3

@sjmxreaderweek

“Stop fussing. You look lovely.”

You looked at your reflection in the mirror for the hundredth time and frowned. You could see why Az thought that, but there was still something that felt… off. You just couldn't put your finger on what it was.

“Something's missing,” you murmured to yourself, smoothing out non-existent creases on your dress. You had picked your most beautiful one—a nice summer dress that flowed to your feet and hugged your body perfectly. Just tight enough to reveal the small bump that was beginning to show.

Your hair was styled in a low bun at the nape of your neck—classy and delicate, but not too formal. You didn't want to come off as too concerned with appearances. For that same reason, you had kept your makeup minimal and natural.

Maybe that was it. Maybe you should have done more. It wasn’t too late, you could still—

“Y/N.”

Azriel came up behind you, his arms sliding around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your neck. “There's no need to be so nervous, my love.”

Your eyes met in the mirror, but, unlike every other time, his soft smile did little to calm you.

“I just don't want to make a bad first impression,” you murmured. You tasted blood on your tongue and realized you were chewing on your inner cheek again. You stopped immediately.

“And you won't.” His hands came to rest on your hips as you both looked at the reflection. “Look at you. You're gorgeous, Y/N.”

You were beautiful—you could admit that much. But you didn't feel perfect, and that's what you were aiming for.

Turning around to face Azriel, you placed your hands on his broad chest, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath your palms. He had also dressed up nicely, and you knew he had done it for you, to help you feel more at ease. He didn't have to, after all. It was his mother you were about to have lunch with. He didn't have to impress anyone.

“I don't want to disappoint her.” You looked into the depths of those beautiful hazel eyes. “She's your mom.”

“And you're my mate, who's also pregnant with my child,” he answered, his hands now resting on your belly. “You have nothing to worry about. She's going to love you. Trust me.”

Hearing the certainty in his voice, you finally relaxed. You closed your eyes and rested your forehead against his, breathing in his familiar scent.

Despite having been mated for a few years—and all the decades of friendship first and being in love later—you had never met Rosalind. Every time he visited her, after Winter Solstice and for both their birthdays, you never accompanied him. He had never asked you to, and you had never pushed him about it. You knew how he felt about his mother, how he wanted to keep her sheltered from a cruel world that had already taken so much from her.

She's a kind soul, he always said. You didn't doubt it.

That's why you had been so surprised when he had come home after his last visit and told you he would like you to meet his mother.

And here you were now.

Azriel kissed your forehead before pulling back. “You're ready to go, baby?”

You nodded, turning to take one last look in the mirror. And that's when you realized what was missing.

“Wait! Hold on…” You opened the top drawer of the dresser and rummaged through it until you found what you were looking for. “Aha!” you exclaimed triumphantly, holding a little necklace between your fingers.

The jewelry itself wasn't anything special—a thin chain with a small star-shaped pendant—but it held a symbolic meaning: it was one of the first gifts you had ever received from Azriel, back when you were nothing more than friends, and every time you wore it, things went well. It might be just superstition, but it quickly became your good luck charm. That's why it was reserved for special occasions such as this one.

“Your lucky necklace?” Azriel took it as you offered it and stepped behind you to put it around your neck. “I thought we were meeting my mother, not going on some kind of adventure.”

You whirled, worried that your nervousness was starting to annoy him. Instead you found him with an amused smile on his lips, looking down at you with a softness that made your heart flutter.

“Y/N, my love.” He cupped your cheeks, his voice low and gentle. “All that matters to me is that you're comfortable. We can reschedule, if you want.”

You shook your head and a small smile appeared on your face. “No,” you said firmly. “I want to meet her. I'm just a bit nervous.”

When he arched a brow, you chuckled. “Okay, maybe more than a bit.”

Azriel leaned in to brush a kiss across your lips. “I know. But I can already tell you she's going to adore you. Trust me. Everyone does.”

Your smile grew, and with one last look at your reflection, you finally stepped back. “Alright. I just need to grab the pastries and we can go.”

~~~~~~

Azriel winnowed you to the outskirts of a little village. Though the street was quiet, peppered only by a few houses, you could hear children laughing and screaming playfully in the distance.

The manor in front of you—Rosehall, Azriel had called it—was smaller than anticipated, with colorful flowers in every window.

You smiled at the sight and let Azriel guide you to the red-painted door.

When he didn't knock, you looked up at him and found his eyes already on you.

“What?” you asked, brows furrowed.

“You're doing it again.” His hand came up to cup your face. “Stop biting your cheek, love. It'll bleed.”

“I didn't even realize I was— sorry.” With a sigh, you cleared your mind of the nervousness that was starting to rise again. Then you gestured toward the door. “Shall we?”

Azriel nodded, and his hand fell away from your cheek to knock on the red wood. It took only a few seconds for the door to open, revealing a smiling Illyrian female.

Her hair was the same black as her son's, just like her hazel eyes—both common Illyrians traits. But you knew Azriel's face well enough to notice they shared the shape of the nose, the curve of the mouth, the slightly upward tilt of the eyes. He wasn't the spitting image of her, but no one could have mistaken them for anything other than mother and son.

“Oh, my boy! It's so nice to see you again so soon!” Rosalind hugged her son, who could embrace her with only one arm, the other one holding the wicker basket with home-baked pastries.

“Hi, mom,” he replied, his tone as soft as the one he usually reserved for you. She smiled as he leaned down to place a kiss on the crown of her head. She was several inches shorter than him, just like you.

Rosalind then turned to face you, and a second later her arms were around you. “It's such a pleasure to finally meet you.”

You were so stunned by the sudden display of affection that it took you a moment to return the gesture, and another one to find the words. “The pleasure is all mine.”

When you pulled back, Rosalind’s smile was even brighter than before, and it was enough to make you forget any semblance of anxiety.

“Come in. Come, dears,” she said, stepping aside. “Come inside. Let me take a good look at you, Y/N.”

Azriel placed a gentle hand on your lower back to set you walking, and as you passed by his mother, you caught a glimpse of the wings Rosalind kept tucked behind her back. Twin long scars ran down both of them—clipped. A wave of horror coiled in your gut, and you had to swallow to keep your composure.

“Are you alright?” Azriel whispered close to your ear. Ever the observant mate.

You gave him a nod, then quickly took the basket from him just to have something else to occupy your mind. When his mother closed the door and guided you to the sitting room, you offered it to her with a smile. “I made these for you, since it was your birthday last week. It's pastries.”

Rosalind took it, lifting the lid to peek at what was inside. Her eyes gleamed as she looked up again, a bright smile on her lips. “You're too sweet, darling. You didn't have to. Thank you.”

Despite having just met her, you could already see why Azriel always said she was a kind soul. If Rosalind had been your mother, you would want to protect her from such a world too.

The Illyrian female handed the basket to her son, instructing him to take it to the kitchen and if he could please start setting the table. Azriel brushed a kiss to your hair, then disappeared down the hallway.

His mother turned to you again.

“Oh, Azriel said you were beautiful, but…” Her hands hovered over your baby bump, but she didn't touch it. “You're glowing, Y/N.”

You smiled back at her. “Thank you. Az never told me much about you… I'm glad I finally met you.”

Rosalind shook her head. “Of course he didn't,” she said with a soft laugh. “He thinks even talking about me will put me in danger.”

You couldn't help but chuckle with her. You were very aware of Azriel's overprotectiveness. It had only grown since you got pregnant.

“It's because he loves you,” you offered gently.

“Oh, I never doubted that.” Rosalind gestured for you to sit on the plush couch, then followed to settle beside you.

The sitting room was large and inviting, with sand-colored rugs layered across the wooden floor and shelves filled with old books and trinkets. Only a few paintings hung on the wall, and your gaze lingered on them as you leaned back against the deep red cushions of the couch.

“But I think he loves you more.”

You turned to look at Rosalind, opening your mouth to protest that she couldn't compare the two things. But she leaned in as if to reveal a secret, a smile playing on her lips.

“He always talks about you,” she murmured.

Your lips curled. “He does?”

Rosalind nodded. “Oh, yes. He can go on for hours about you.”

Your eyes darted to the hallway, at the end of which you'd caught a glimpse of the dining room as Azriel had walked away to follow his mother's instructions. Now you could hear the faint rustle of dishes being arranged on the table.

“He'd done it since he met you, you know,” his mother went on. “The first time he told me about you, he said you were the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. And that you were so nice and sweet, he hoped you'd fall in love with him one day.”

Your smile grew. Azriel, usually so reserved and quiet, had been talking to his mother about you since the beginning. That shouldn't have surprised you—you'd always been close, after all—but the things he'd told her… You never thought he'd so open about it from the very start, even with his own mother. Maybe you'd just assumed that since he didn't talk to you about her, he wouldn't talk to her about you.

As if on cue, Azriel appeared in the doorway. “The table's ready,” he announced.bhh

His eyes darted between you and his mother, and he arched a brow when twin complicit smiles bloomed on your faces.

Rosalind rose to her feet, wings shifting awkwardly behind her. “Well, I should go check on the food,” she announced. “It's probably ready, or it’ll be soon. So you can start getting comfortable at the table.”

On her way out, she placed a hand on Azriel's arm. “Thank you, dear,” she said with a smile before continuing down the hallway.

Azriel watched her go, then turned to you with a questioning look in his hazel eyes. “Did I miss something?”

Walking up to him, you tried to suppress your smile but failed. Biting your lip was the only way. “Did you really spend hours telling your mom about me?”

He stilled, and you noticed the tips of his ears turning a faint shade of red. For a moment, he didn't meet your eyes.

“She told you about that, I see.”

Mother above, he was adorable when he got flustered.

“She did,” you grinned, leaving the room with him following close behind. You glanced at him over your shoulder. “She also said you hoped I'd fall in love with you from the very beginning.”

Azriel's ears were now completely flushed. But his lips quirked up at the corners as he said, “Of course I did. You were perfect.”

You reached the dining room—smaller than the sitting room, yet just as cozy. Cushioned chairs suited for Illyrians surrounded the table, and sunlight poured in through a large window.

But before you could turn to face Azriel and answer, his arms were already around you, pulling you back against his chest.

“I was perfect?” you repeated as you turned your head back to smile at him.

“Mhm,” he hummed, brushing his lips against yours. “You always have been.”

His broad hands slid down to rest on your small bump.

“And now you're even more perfect,” he murmured.

You finally turned around in his arms and looped yours around his neck. “That's also thanks to you, you know,” you replied with a smile.

His hands found your hips and he pulled you flush against him. "Some days I have to remind myself that,” he admitted quietly. “That there’s a wonderful new life inside of you. And I helped create it.”

He didn’t have to say more. You knew why he needed the reminder—that someone like him could create something so beautiful. After everything he had been through and he had done, he had convinced himself he would never be good enough to create such a miracle. And now he was being proven wrong.

“You did,” you replied, nails gently scratching the nape of his neck. “And this wonderful life will become a wonderful baby. Our baby. And you will be a wonderful father.”

His eyes locked with yours, and slowly, another smile appeared on his face. “Our baby,” he repeated.

Then leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss—a silent thanks you, a testament to the love you shared. And even after you broke apart, the feel of his lips on yours lingered like the last warmth of the sun before it sets.

The delicious smell of roasted lamb pervaded the room, and followed by the quiet rustle of dishes and pans that announced Rosalind's entrance.

She glanced at the two of you still standing there, a warm smile curving her lips as she placed the serving plate in the center of the table, where Azriel had left space for it.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you took a small step back from him.

Even after your chat with Rosalind, being caught kissing her son felt oddly awkward. You weren't quite sure why—you were mated to him and pregnant with his child, after all. And Rosalind didn’t even seem bothered by it.

She gestured toward the table and the chairs. “Come sit, dears,” she encouraged. “We don’t want it to get cold, now do we?”

Azriel placed a hand on your lower back and gently guided you to a chair, pulling it out for you. As you sat, he leaned down to murmur in your ear, “Your cheek, my love.”

He was already moving to sit next to you before you even glanced at him.

You offered him a grateful smile, then helped Rosalind serve the food, realizing only then what she had cooked.

Roasted lamb. Baked potatoes. The same blend of herbs you always used—flavors that bloomed across your tongue at the first bite.

“This is delicious,” you said, smiling. “And it's one of my favorites, too.” With a look toward Azriel, you added, “What a nice coincidence.”

“Yes,” he replied, far too casually. “A lucky coincidence.”

His mother chuckled and you playfully rolled your eyes at him.

“I wanted to make a good impression,” Rosalind explained. “It's not every day I get to meet my son's mate.”

At least you weren't the only one who'd been worried about first impressions.

You turned back to her with a smile. “It's not every day I get to my mate's mother,” you replied. You nodded toward the basket of pastries you'd made, now waiting on the sideboard, ready for dessert. “I asked him too, for the pastries. I wanted to get you a real present, but.. I've never been very good with gifts.”

Azriel had told you not to worry, that you could show up empty-handed and his mom wouldn't mind. But it hadn't felt like enough, yet you always struggled to find the right gift for your friends, so how were you supposed to pick one for your mate’s mother? So you'd asked him what she liked best and baked it yourself.

Rosalind slowly set her fork down and reached across the table to take your hand. She gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Don't worry, dear. I have everything I need here.” Her smile was soft, reassuring. “And you've already given me the greatest gift I could ask for.”

At your confused frown, she gave your hand another squeeze. “You make my son happy,” she explained. “It's all I ever wanted.”

Your heart swelled at her words. “Don't worry,” you assured her. “That's all I want too.”

Your gaze drifted to Azriel. His eyes were already on you, love shining in their hazel depths. Beneath the table, his hand came to rest on your knee.

“I told you both you’d like each other,” he said softly, glancing between you and his mother. “You were both nervous for nothing.”

Picking up your fork again, you replied, “That's because you never introduced us before, Az.”

He looked like he was about to protest, but then he sighed instead. “Yes, that's fair,” he conceded. “Maybe I should have.”

“Oh, it's alright,” Rosalind chimed in. “We're all here now and that's what matters.”

You nodded, and while you and Azriel returned to your delicious meal, Rosalind fell silent, a thoughtful expression replacing the smile she often wore.

After a moment, she spoke again.

“Can I ask you something?” she said, looking first at her son, then at you. “A favor, if it’s not too much trouble.”

You nodded without hesitation. “Yes, of course.”

Azriel looked curious now, though he remained silent. Maybe he hadn’t expected her to ask anything, either.

Rosalind hesitated for a second before continuing. “When the baby arrives… could you visit me more often?” She paused, then quickly added, “Or maybe I could visit you? But I’d like to be a part of the baby's life and watch them grow.”

You blinked, stunned by the suddenness of the request. Of course you wanted her to be involved, to know her grandchild and be part of this growing family.

But the emotion behind her words caught you off guard, stealing whatever answer you might’ve given.

Before you could find your voice, Rosalind turned to Azriel.

A new vulnerability shone her eyes—his eyes. A mix of sadness and tenderness in equal parts, as though she were remembering something from their past.

“I didn't get to be the mother you needed when it mattered most,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. Still, she went on. “So let me try to make it up by being the grandmother your child deserves.”

All you could do was watch, your heart straining, as Azriel’s throat bobbed once.

“You were—” He stopped, shook his head, then tried again. “You are the best mother I could ask for, mom.”

They shared a heartfelt smile, and for a moment, you felt like an intruder on a private, sacred moment.

“Of course we can visit more often,” he said gently. “Or you can finally come to Velaris, if you'd prefer. Rhys and Cassian would be happy to see you again.”

Rosalind's eyes lit up, her smile blooming bright. A mother, happy to reunite with her son's world. With his chosen family, and the new life he was building.

You watched her, and wondered—would you wear that same expression when your baby arrived? That same fierce, unwavering love that would never make your child doubt they were wanted and adored.

You hoped you did.

You knew you would.

Azriel already had that look. He'd had it since the moment you told him you were pregnant.

“I'd love to see them again,” Rosalind said. “It's been too many centuries. And maybe…” She chuckled softly, “it's about time I visited Velaris.”

A flicker of uncertainty sparkled in Azriel's eyes, as if he still wasn't sure his mother should be exposed to the potential dangers of the world, even in a city as safe as Velaris. But it was there and gone in a heartbeat, so fast you might have missed it if you didn't know him so well.

Rosalind didn't seem to notice, though, and the conversation flowed easily from there. She asked you many questions—about your childhood, your passions, your job—eager to know you as you were, and not just through Azriel's stories.

You got to know her just as well, and during the few hours you spent together, a connection began to take shape. Quiet and natural, it settled between you like it had always been meant to grow there. You wondered why you’d even been nervous in the first place.

Maybe it was because of your lucky necklace.

When you and Azriel finally left, just before dinner, Rosalind made you promise to return the following week—and to start planning her visit to Velaris.

*lovely divider by @slytherin-pen

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @lilah-asteria @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @ivy-34 @yesiamthatwierd @lreadsstuff @littlest-w01f

[manicmanuscription]

Selfish? or Rational?

SJM x Reader Week 2025: Day Two @sjmxreaderweek

Prompt: Friends / Family

Pairings: Azriel / Reader

Summary: The long awaited breakfast scene! This is the third part to unapologetically selfish and it just fit so well with the prompt!

A/N: I'm really not happy with this so I'm so sorry if I disappointed you guys. I really struggled with finding the right format but nothing fit and then it was just hanging over my head and aaa. I do maybe want to write one more part a few months into the future bc I have a cute idea but we will see. But for now this is the end of this mini series thank you for reading! (if anyone has any ideas how i can fix this finale please please lmk!!)

Tags: angst, fluff, ic beeing lowkey messy (but not really.)

Word Count: 1237

SJM x Reader Week 2025 | Acotar Masterlist

Cassian watched his brother as if he had grown three heads. He knew Azriel had hidden his mate from him, in fact his own mind was still reeling from that piece of information. But to actually see it? It was something else entirely Azriel had pulled the chair out for you after silencing all the questions his family had thrown out there. Growling that his mate needed to least eat before dealing with their nonsense. 

So now here they were all settled at the table once again and Cassian was mesmerized. You worked in tandem to prepare each other a plate of food from the options laid across the table.

You poured Azriel his tea the way he liked it and black coffee for yourself. Him returning the favor by buttering biscuits for you and so on. 

They were in sync and he could not stop staring. It was a simple task and yet so domestic, you looked up at him and give him a sweet smile when he passed you the small tin of jam unprompted. 

As if they’d done this little song and dance a thousand times and with an aching heart Cassian realized they had. 

And he had no idea about it. 

Until he did, and just didn’t believe his brother. 

Nausea rolled in his stomach at the guilt and heartbreak. He wasn’t the only one shocked at his brother’s actions. The rest of the Inner Circle not even trying to hide their interest in the couple sitting in front of him. 

Nesta comfortingly grabbed his hand under the table as she continued eating. He barely noticed the touch too focused on the foreign side of his brother he was currently seeing. The only sound heard in the room was the small ticking of a clock until finally Mor broke first. “How long have you been seeing each other? We didn’t know about you until recently.” 

“Four years.” You responded with a slight wince. Four years of his own brother hiding you away. Three years since he started acting shady. Two years since he told them and one year of Cassian absolutely tormenting him over a fake mate that was very much real. 

“My brother said you travel, is that true?” Rhysand asked diplomatically steering the conversation away from Azriel’s actions. Although from the storm brewing behind the High Lord’s eyes Cassian assumed it wouldn’t last long. 

“Yes. I do. I work closely with Thesan and occasionally Helion. Which unfortunately requires me to move across borders quite often.”

“What work do you-” Rhysand started but Mor interrupted him. “So busy you had no time to meet us?” She crossed her arms over her chest, hiding her hurt behind defensiveness. 

Azriel snarled and it shocked and amused Cassian. His brother was usually levelheaded. He opened his mouth to respond but you put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry it truly wasn’t malicious intent. I'm in Velaris only a few weeks out of the year and it’s been hard on both of us. The time we have together we prefer to spend alone.”

She didn’t have to mention what Azriel did for work. Their family barely even saw him even less since being mated but they all knew it wasn’t just his schedule alone that put a dent in your relationship. Rhysand’s hand tightened on his glass and if they werent friends for so long Cassian wouldn’t have noticed it was from guilt. 

Luckily Feyre pressed a kiss to his cheek as they conversed without speaking. “I can’t imagine being away from your mate for so long.” She finally said aloud after a few moments. 

“It’s been difficult.” And opened your mouth to say more but Amren beat you to it, looking directly at the Spymaster. “Are you going to say anything or just let her do all the talking?” 

A violent gleam passed in his brother’s so fast if Cassian blinked he wouldn’t have noticed it. “I don’t recall you having much of a place to voice your opinion.” She just hummed low in her throat and continued to observe you. Azriel and Amren had their own weird relationship, as if they were strategists first and friends maybe second or third. He didn’t understand the double meaning behind her comment but Azriel did and he just pressed himself closer to your chair, shooting the female a challenging look.

The tense moment quickly passed as everyone had questions for you and Azriel, even Elain and Varian tossing their two cents in every once and awhile. You just sat through it all with a smile on your face, answering politely and even returning barbs and underhanded comments as if you’d been apart of the family for centuries. 

“So yes I founded the Saving Soul’s community and-”

“Saving Soul’s?” Elain asked. 

“Yes, it's a proficient group of Healer’s and Innovators that try to advance medicine through lot’s research and unique cases of illness. It’s why I travel so much I was recently across the continent for research in prosthetic limbs” 

“You founded it?” Rhysand asked, surprised. “Yes, Thesan and I grew up together and he helped me create the project once it was on it’s feet and he became High Lord I’ve been managing it with a few others.” 

Rhysand and Feyre gave each other a knowing look before turning to you and you moved before they could voice whatever shared thought that had clicked for them. 

He just shook your head slightly and the conversation moved forward. After all you didn’t want Azriel knowing you and your team had requested border permissions for Illyria, your next study was wing repair which meant moving home. Permanently. 

“Looks like he gave you a good time when you came home.” Mor pointed out to the scarf that revealed a few purple hickeys.

Your hand shot up to your neck as you gave Azriel a scathing look. He just sat back in his chair unable to hide the smug smile. “I told you!” You snapped.

Mor started laughing and even Nesta cracked a smile. “How did you guys meet?” 

“Well that’s certainly a story.”  

Cassian didn’t speak the entire breakfast. Everyone was content to let you in with open arms as soon as they noticed how smitten Azriel was.

As everyone finished lunch and headed home Cassian was the last to leave. He had seen how absolutely in love his brother was but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Years gone by without his own brother sharing something so important with him. 

Nesta was saying goodbye to Nyx and it gave him a chance to catch Azriel as he was leaving. “Hey Az can we talk?”

Azriel looked over at you briefly. The male was rushing you out of here the second breakfast was over and he turned to him before nodding. “Yeah what’s up?” He asked as the males moved to a quieter part of the house. “Listen Cassian I know your upset about this-”

“Are you happy?”

Cassian had seen it but he needed to hear it.

Azriel smiled, a true smile. His brother never smiled. 

“Yes.”

“Then that’s all that matters.” He said, giving him a squeeze on the arm before going off to find Nesta, and he meant every word. He could let go of the hurt, he understood why of course. All he wanted was for his brother to receive everything he wanted, and with a quick glance at you it looked like he had.

[velaris-fic-repository]

Mates of a Different Kind

@sjmxreaderweek May 6th Prompt: Fate/Choice

Azriel x Illyrian!Reader, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Wound Tending

Summary: You met your mate and agreed to a getting to know you style date. Things go poorly.

TW: Injury, Light Misogyny (but not from Azriel)

A/N: I’m so in love with this one y’all! Enjoy!!

Azriel could barely keep from grinding his teeth together as he watched you from across Rita’s crowded bar.

More accurately, he was glaring daggers at your date. At the casual drape of his arm over your shoulder, claiming, even on a first date. Arrogance radiated off the other male in waves and the look on your face suggested you knew that. You’d asked him to be here, one of your oldest friends, in case you needed him.

Azriel knew you were more than capable of handling yourself, one of the few Illyrian females that had made it out of their camp with your wings still intact - with help from Rhys’s mother but not without significant strength of your own. Those very wings were shifting uncomfortably around this High Fae male’s arm, the limb thoughtlessly tossed wherever he wanted it to be. Despite the lack of training, muscle and physiology, he was like certain Illyrian males in one aspect. Attitude.

But Azriel would wait. You’d asked him to wait until you signaled, if you even did. It was your first date with the male you’d discovered to be your mate, and Azriel didn’t want to ruin it. He’d suffer a thousand evils for you, if you wanted him or not.

The date was so far a disaster, but you were trying to remain optimistic. You’d agreed to this one date, so both of you could feel each other out. Your meeting was so sudden and unexpected, the bond snapping almost instantly. You wanted to see where this twist of fate would lead, just to explore the avenue. This was meant to be a casual get to know each other style meeting. You’d promised yourself and the Cauldron that you’d at least try. But, if you were being honest, when the bond snapped - an event you’d built up in your mind to be a romantic, sweeping-off-your-feet style encounter - you ended up disappointed. You hadn’t expected it to be someone you barely knew. You’d always thought… well, no sense in thinking that now. Those were the fanciful thoughts of a little girl. Fate did not always cater to your heart’s desire. The least you could do was hear it out.

Though, you were starting to think a mistake had been made. You’d barely gotten a word in edgewise the entire hour you’d been here. This male, Soril, had quite the fancy for himself. His stories were all mundane in nature, but he told them with a sense of bravado that you were clearly meant to swoon over. The way he was talking, you had a feeling he’d expected you to have melted into his side with doe eyes already. Something that, even if you wanted to - and you definitely did not - would have been impossible to do comfortably with the way he’d pinned one of your wings. A mistake, of course, there weren’t a lot of Illyrians in Velaris, he couldn’t have had any idea how to properly maneuver around the beautiful but cumbersome appendages. You were just thankful his fingers hadn’t accidentally touched them yet.

You shifted again and he finally, begrudgingly maybe - though the expression was gone before you could fully identify it - removed his arm from your shoulder.

“Sorry.”

You waved it off, “it’s okay, I wouldn’t expect you to understand the intricacies of these-“ you ruffled your wings a bit, happy to stretch them just a smidge- “upon first interacting with them.”

“You know, I thought Illyrian females didn’t have wings, or at least, didn’t use them,” he said, though not unkindly which was a relief.

You coughed a bit at the memories pulled to your mind of your fellow Illyrian sisters whose unfortunate fates you’d been unable to stop. A kind of survivor’s guilt you’d never escaped. “It’s not a… natural disuse.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you said, for lack of other things to say, reaching for your water.

Shadows danced around the room, almost natural for the darkened atmosphere of the bar, but you knew better. He’d heard, and was agitated. You patted twice on the table, the signal that everything was fine. The shadows shifted, but remained in their places.

Soril twiddled his thumbs a bit, glancing at the small amounts of food on your table, “So, do you want to offer me what’s on your plate? Oh, no,“ he said, seemingly thinking better of it, “it’s probably best if you make me something at home, right?”

You blinked.

“I’m sorry?”

“You know, the food thing for the bond?”

You narrowed your eyes, saying through slightly gritted teeth, “I’m afraid I’m not following.”

“You know, the female offering the male food so the bond can be accepted.”

“Soril,” you laughed politely, he had to be joking, “we’ve only just met not two days ago.”

“I mean, yeah, but we’re mates,” he said, staring at you like you’d grown a second head, “what more is there?”

You were going to choke.

Attempting your politest smile, saying loud enough for the shadows close by to hear you, “I’m going to go get some more water.” As much as you wanted to, you certainly weren’t drinking alcohol this evening.

“Hurry back, love,” he said.

Your skin crawled all the way to the bar. You took back your previous statement, you were going to vomit instead.

You took the time between receiving your water, and the walk back to slowly recenter yourself. You both had just gotten off on the wrong foot. He was just eager, that’s all. You’d explain your terms and boundaries to him and start over. Everything would be fine.

You were almost back to the table when you noticed someone had stopped by. Soril was talking to a friend of his. You paused your approach, giving them space. You tried not to eavesdrop, glancing around the room of revelers and dancers for where Azriel might be, but the sounds of the bar around you just so happened to quiet enough that you could hear them.

“So what’s she like?”

“A little skittish it seems,” Soril answered.

You scrunched your nose up, the word ‘skittish’ had never been used to describe you, ever. You’d fought on countless battlefields, fought even for the right to be on them. He truly knew nothing about you or Illyrians if he didn’t see that word for the insult you felt it to be, but the conversation continued.

“I didn’t think it would be this hard, you know? But it’ll be worth it. Be charming enough, meet her standards and then we’ll have enough influence to get our trope off the ground.”

Soril had mentioned belonging to a group of performers, had described the near Herculean effort it was to try and make it in the entertainment business of this town. Was that seriously all he wanted?

Unfortunately for him, his mouth continued to move. “It’ll be nice to be part of that group, what is it? The Inner Sanctum? Circle? Whichever. I’m looking forward to having some say around here.”

He thought he could use you? As an in to your family? Oh, that was it. You weren’t going to choke. You weren’t going to vomit. You were going to use the siphons you had bled for to tear the male to shreds. Better yet, you’d do it with your bare hands.

You walked up behind him, staring down his friend, who had the common sense to look ready to wet himself at the sight of an angry Illyrian warrior.

Not female. Warrior.

“I think you should leave,” you said and you didn’t need to tell him twice. He tore off as soon as he could, disappearing into the cover of Rita’s other patrons, abandoning Soril to the fate that awaited him.

The male in question turned around, smile on his face. “There you are, love! I was wondering where you were? What’s the scowl for?”

You took your glass of water and dumped the freezing liquid on his head. As he cried out, your anger seized within you and before you knew it, shards sprayed out from your hand. The glass was no more.

“This date, and whatever we were beginning to be, are done.” You promptly turned and stalked away.

Soril, indignant, rose and followed you, “Wait!” He reached for you.

You turned, grappling his wrist and twisting hard enough to hear it crunch.

“You want to be part of this family so badly?” You said, spitting venom loud enough for all of Rita’s to hear you, “try to touch me again and you will see exactly what the Court of Nightmares sees. You want to use people? That’s fine. Best of luck with that. You’d better pray that I never hear even a whisper of your name ever again. I am not a means to an end, bond or no bond. Have a nice life.”

You could have gone on, but to the people of Velaris you were a civil servant and a representative of your family.

You dropped his wrist and said, diplomatically, “apologies everyone, I sincerely hope this interruption hasn’t ruined your night. I’ll pay for the glass I broke, but I need to leave.”

“On the house, dear,” Rita said from the bar, glaring daggers of her own at the whimpering Soril.

“Thank you,” you said, suddenly feeling small as you pulled your wings around yourself like a blanket. You promptly left, replaying the previous events in your head once in Rhys’s direction with mental apologies for any damages to the family’s reputation.

Soril recovered, anger flashing over his features as he stalked towards the door, after you. He didn’t get far, colliding quickly with a strong Illyrian male chest.

“I don’t think,” Azriel said lowly as the festivities of Rita’s tentatively resumed around them, the patrons flicking their eyes in their direction every so often, “that your current course of action is very wise. You heard the lady. She wants nothing to do with you.”

Soril, about a foot shorter and far leaner, glared up at him despite the difference. “She’s my mate. You can’t block access to her. This is none of your business.”

“Considering what you planned to use her to do, and that she is family, it’s very much my business. It would be for any female unlucky enough to have the misfortune of your company.”

“Cauldron, you all are so up your own asses! Let me through!”

Azriel made a show of considering his request. What he really wanted to do was bring this fucker down to the dungeons and beat him until he was as black and blue as his leathers and siphons. But this revenge, should it need to be taken, was not his to have. Azriel knew if you wanted to, you could do that job better than he could ever dream of doing. Additionally, you’d very publicly dressed him down. The performance industry ran on reputation and word of mouth. It was unlikely that he, or anyone associated with him, would be finding a job any time soon.

“She’s my mate!” Soril shouted, attempting to push at the wall Azriel had become, “let me through!”

Azriel leaned forward, stilling Soril. “You aren’t mates until the bond is accepted, and unfortunately for you, the entire bar just saw it as good as fizzle out. You clearly don’t know much about our people, but understand this. You are everything she hates about home. You heard the lady. You’d better pray she never finds you.”

He felt a scratching on his shields and let his brother in. Az, he heard Rhys’s mildly panicked voice in his mind, get out of there, now. She needs you. She stopped talking to me.

Fuck.

He punched Soril in the stomach and left promptly after, not turning to see the quivering male whimpering on the ground.

It didn’t take him long to find you. Azriel knew where your favorite spot in Velaris was. The clocktower overlooking the harbor had the perfect slant to its roof that you didn’t have to perch, you could sit and watch the town bustle beneath you without worrying about sliding off. It was the place you always went when you wanted to be alone. It’s where he always found you because he knew, deep down that you didn’t.

He slowed to a stop, sitting beside you as you hugged your knees. In the time honored tradition of late night clocktower sessions, you instinctively leaned into his shoulder, vision never leaving the city below you. He leaned on you right back.

“I’m sorry,” he said eventually.

Your grateful silence answered him. And he knew you were, too, didn’t he? You two never needed words to communicate. You had always been in tune with each other that way, even when you were kids. It’s why he’d always thought…

The silence tonight though felt too heavy, felt like too much. So, if you would not provide the sound, he would.

“You didn’t deserve that, didn’t deserve what he wanted to do with you. I’m sorry.”

More silence until you said, “Az?” He’d never heard your voice so small. Not even in the aftermath of your sorry excuse for a father trying unsuccessfully to clip your wings.

“Yes?”

“Do you think the Cauldron makes mistakes?”

“Clearly it does if tonight is any indication.”

You laughed weakly, creating a dull ache in Azriel’s chest as his mouth twitched down. That’s not what your laugh sounded like and damn the male that caused the beautiful sound of your joy to diminish.

You clenched your fists, looking up in surprise when you felt a few stabs of pain in one of them. Sure enough, the fist you had used to shatter the glass at Rita’s was bleeding, pieces of glass protruding from a few shallow cuts.

“Oh fuck,” you said, reaching to pull the glass out.

“Wait! Stop!” Azriel said, “let me.”

You almost rolled your eyes, “I’m not fragile, Azriel. I can handle a little glass.”

“I know,” he said softly, “I want to help though.” He already had pieces of cloth ready, fetched for him by one of his shadows, the little thing rubbing soothingly against you after being relieved of its cargo.

He carefully removed the shards, cleaning your wounds as he went, apologizing when you hissed.

“This feels familiar,” you said, remembering fondly the gentle care you’d given his hands for so many years.

Azriel smiled softly at you, removing the last piece of glass and carefully wrapping them up for safe disposal. “My turn to return the favor, huh?”

“It was never a favor,” you said.

“I know,” he responded, carefully wrapping your hand. “How are you feeling? Emotionally, I mean.”

You sighed, “Angry. Violated. Sad.”

“Mhmm?” he said, your collective signal for more.

“I just,” you paused, unsure if your vulnerable thoughts were safe to voice. You surveyed the male ahead of you, listening but focused on wrapping your hand. Not looking at you in the event eye contact was too much.

This was Azriel.

“I just can’t stop thinking, that’s my mate? That’s my equal? That’s who I was made for?”

Azriel stopped his first aide for a moment, locking eyes with you with an intensity usually reserved for the battlefield.

“You were made for yourself. You were made to exist and live your life. You are not a feature of someone else’s.” He growled, “I should skin that male for putting that idea in your head.”

You tried to ignore the ratcheting up of your heart at his words as you responded, “I didn’t mean- Az, I know that. I misspoke. You get what I meant, right? I just can’t help but think that, if he’s so awful, what does that say about me?”

“Not a damn thing.”

He said it with such determination and certainty that you finally smiled.

“Mates are overrated anyway,” you joked as Azriel continued wrapping your hand, “who needs ‘em?”

“Not us,” Azriel said, just happy to see you smile again.

“I never thought it would be someone like him.”

Azriel’s heart stuttered as he asked, “Had someone in mind?”

“…yeah.”

He didn’t want to ask. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to hear you talk about some other male you fancied, some other male you thought you were meant to be with. Not when he wished more than anything that you were his.

Okay, maybe his hatred of Soril came from two places.

But you were his friend, and you needed him, so, “Who was it?”

“I’m looking at him.”

Eyes blown wide, he glanced up at you, finding your eyes not watching one of the sailors below, or one of the males walking the streets that night.

Him. You were staring sheepishly at him.

“I-“

He didn’t know what to say. How was he supposed to wrap his head around this? The woman he’d loved for centuries, the one he thought he’d almost lost tonight, loved him back? Had wished, just like he had, that the two of you were mates?

Thankfully, you saved him. You raised your wrapped hand and tentatively touched his cheek. “I know,” was all you said. And you did know, didn’t you?

You inspected your wrapped hand, the dark fabric carefully protecting your self-inflicted injury.

“You know what this reminds me of?”

“What?” Azriel asked, hardly able to think straight.

“A mating ceremony ribbon.”

Azriel huffed a laugh as you two looked at each other.

“Can I? Can I kiss you? I feel like I’m going to die if I don’t,” he said finally.

“Well I can’t have the love of my life dying on me now, can I?”

He leaned in immediately, kissing you like he needed you to breathe. It was everything you had ever hoped it would be. You had been right before, mates were overrated. The one you chose was much better.

[velarisdusk]

The One Where Everybody Finds Out

Cassian x Reader

Day 2: Friends / Family @sjmxreaderweek summary: Keeping a secret in a house full of nosy friends was a losing game. You and Cassian thought you were careful—but after one too many slip-ups, it's clear: the jig is up. word count: 3.1k content: [ explicit language, implied sexual content, explicit humor, alcohol ] author's note: a nice cute fun lil fic inspired by the chandler and monica friends episode :) yes, i was in the middle of a series rewatch (showing it to the bf for the first time) when i was writing this one lol

You and Cassian hadn’t meant to keep it a secret. At least, not at first.

What had started as a fleeting moment—one night of unspoken tension, one quiet pull from Cassian, a simple kiss that should’ve meant nothing—soon spiraled into something more. Something that felt like more than a stolen touch or a glance across the training ring. It was sneaking under the table at dinner, brushing your fingers against his when no one was looking, the soft pressure of his knee against yours when you stood side by side. A pattern that was hard to ignore, harder to explain.

And yet, here you were, caught in the throes of it. The truth of it settled in like a weight you couldn’t shift, each day bringing more pressure. This was Cassian. These were your friends—your family. And somehow, the idea of them knowing—of everyone knowing—before you and Cassian even had the chance to understand what this was, felt suffocating.

So, an unspoken pact was formed: keep it quiet. For now.

The problem, of course, was Cassian.

He thought he was subtle. He thought no one noticed when he gravitated toward you at every dinner, even when it meant hauling a chair across the room. He thought the touches were harmless: a hand lingering on your back, fingers brushing yours as he passed you a drink, all innocent enough. And when he tried to play it off with weak excuses, you could hardly keep a straight face.

“I just happened to be heading out, too,” he’d said to Rhys one evening, despite the fact that he’d just ordered another drink. You barely covered your snort.

To your credit, you were trying to keep things under wraps. You didn’t let your gaze linger too long, didn’t let yourself react when his knee pressed against yours under the dining table. But Cassian made it so difficult. He was all big, stupid grins when you walked into a room, and lingering fingers when he handed you anything.

So you kept sneaking around, hoping no one saw through it, pretending to be careful, while you and Cassian—two grown adults—acted like youths trying to hide a crush.

And for a while, at least, you were sure no one knew.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . F . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

At first, it was nothing more than an inkling—a soft, nagging feeling that hovered just under the surface. Maybe it was the way Cassian’s gaze lingered a little longer than necessary on you, or the way your lips barely curved in response to his words. It was subtle, imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t paying attention.

But then, it happened.

Over dinner, Cassian slipped.

“Hey, sweetheart, could you pass the—” He froze mid-sentence.

You froze too.

For a split second, the table fell silent. Just long enough for Feyre’s eyes to flick upward, catching the shift in your expression. The way Cassian hastily shoved a forkful of food into his mouth, as if trying to swallow the evidence of his slip-up.

No one else noticed. Rhys was too caught up in his argument with Amren, and Azriel was lost in Mor’s latest joke.

But Feyre noticed.

And once she did, it was like a door opened.

She noticed the way Cassian always seemed to hover near you, the way you both made excuses to leave at the same time, the way your hands brushed ever so casually—too casually—when you thought no one was looking. You and Cassian were terrible at this.

And Feyre? Feyre was absolutely going to have fun with it.

“You know,” she began one evening, voice light, almost teasing, “I think it’s funny how some people swear they don’t do pet names, but then, out of nowhere, they slip up.”

From across the room, you nearly choked on your wine. Cassian visibly tensed, shifting uncomfortably as he buried his hands in his lap.

“Oh?” Rhys drawled, raising an eyebrow. “And here I thought you liked my pet names for you, Feyre.”

Feyre hummed, her eyes flicking toward you and Cassian. “Oh, I don’t mind them. But some people…” She let the silence stretch, just long enough to make it feel pointed. “Some people can’t help but use them.”

Rhys leaned back in his chair, a sly grin spreading across his face. “Interesting. I had the impression you preferred something more… simple.”

Feyre arched a brow. “Simple?”

His grin widened. “Well, you’ve never complained about darling.”

Feyre rolled her eyes, but her smile was too genuine to be dismissive. “That’s different.”

Rhys laughed. “Is it?”

Feyre shot him a pointed look. “You used up your one pet name already.”

Rhys clutched his chest in mock offense. “And here I was, considering my heart or my star.”

Feyre raised an eyebrow. “Try it.”

Cassian, his face flushed, immediately turned away. You fought to keep your expression neutral, but the heat of Feyre’s eyes on you was impossible to ignore. She knew.

And she was loving every second of it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . A . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It started with Azriel’s smirks.

He wasn’t a male known for his smiles, but there were moments—fleeting, almost imperceptible—that his lips would twitch upward, the smallest glimmer of amusement in his dark eyes.

At first, Feyre thought she was imagining it. But then, the comments began.

“You seem well-rested, Cassian,” Azriel remarked one morning, his voice deceptively casual as he sipped his coffee.

Cassian, who hadn’t slept in weeks, nearly knocked over his plate. “What?”

Azriel didn’t even look up from his paper. “Nothing.”

Feyre watched from across the room, barely holding back her laughter.

It kept happening—these little comments that would’ve been brushed off by anyone else, but Feyre knew.

Like the time you and Cassian showed up separately to the River House, late, only to have Azriel quip, “Funny how you two always seem to arrive at the same time after a night out, even though you’re coming from different places.”

Cassian tensed. You shot him a warning look. Feyre couldn’t contain her grin.

Or when Azriel casually mentioned how hard it must be to keep a secret in a house full of curious minds. His voice was slow, deliberate, each word pointed enough to cut.

He never outright confronted you, though. He didn’t need to.

Because Azriel thought he was the only one who knew.

And that—that—was the most entertaining part.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . M . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It was never supposed to happen like this.

You and Cassian had been so careful—so careful. But now, here you were, backed up against the wall of his room at the House of Wind, his lips hot and demanding against yours, his hands gripping your waist as if he never intended to let go—

And then the door swung open.

“What in the Mother’s name—”

Cassian whipped away from you so fast, he nearly stumbled. You gasped, scrambling to straighten your clothes, but it was far too late. Mor stood frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide, her mouth hanging open in shock, then delight.

Her hand shot out, pointing accusingly at Cassian. Then at you. Then back at Cassian.

“Are you—BY THE CAULDRON.”

“Mor—”

“Oh, wow!” She clapped a hand over her mouth, her other hand still outstretched like she was physically trying to process what she was seeing. “How long has this been going on?!”

Cassian groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “Can you not yell?”

“Can you not—whatever the hell I just walked in on?!” Mor’s voice climbed an octave. 

You buried your face in your hands, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. This is it. This is how I die.

Mor shrieked in delight, practically bouncing in place. “I knew it. I knew something was off with you two lately!” She narrowed her eyes at you. “Wait—does anyone else know?”

You hesitated. “Uh—”

“NO WAY,” Mor gasped, clutching her chest. “I cannot believe I’m the first to find out.” She beamed like she’d just won the lottery. “I won’t tell, I promise. But gods, this is amazing.”

She took one last look at the two of you—still flushed, still breathless—then spun on her heel. With a wink and a whirlwind exit, she left the room, her smile wide enough to break.

Cassian dropped his head onto your shoulder, letting out a long groan. “We’re screwed.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . F.A. . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Feyre smoothed her hand over the map of Velaris spread across the table, her fingers tracing the lines of the Sidra. “We should move the patrols closer to the Sidra in the evenings. There’s been more movement near the docks lately.”

Azriel barely glanced up from the reports he was sifting through. “Already reassigned four to cover it.”

A soft laugh escaped Feyre, her lips curling at the edges. She shook her head, as if to herself. “Of course you did.” Then, as if the thought had only just occurred to her, she added, “You ever notice how Cassian’s been in a suspiciously good mood lately?”

Azriel’s fingers faltered for just a second before he turned the page, his expression a mask of indifference. “Have I?”

Feyre hummed absently, her eyes never leaving the map as she traced the Sidra again. “Mmm. And (y/n)’s been spending an awful lot of late nights at the House of Wind. Odd, don’t you think?”

For the first time, Azriel’s gaze lifted from the papers, his eyes narrowing in the faintest flicker of curiosity. “Odd?”

She shrugged, her tone light and breezy, as if it were nothing more than idle chatter. “Well, unless she’s taken up sparring… but I doubt that’s it.”

Azriel studied her for a beat longer, then turned the page with deliberate slowness, as if the words between them hadn’t lingered at all. His gaze stayed fixed on the report, his voice a touch more clipped. “How did you figure it out?”

Feyre’s lips quirked into a smug smile, her eyes glinting with mischief. “I heard him call her ‘sweetheart.’” She let the word hang between them like a well-aimed dart, watching for any shift in his expression.

Azriel didn’t flinch. Instead, he turned the page as if the word had barely registered, his cool composure unshaken. Only after a long pause did he finally exhale through his nose, his voice dry. “They really let that slip?”

She shrugged, feigning innocence, though the edge in her gaze was anything but. “How did you figure it out?”

Azriel gave a low, quiet chuckle, meeting her eyes with a knowing look. “I’m the spymaster.”

Feyre rolled her eyes, her smirk widening. “Right.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . R . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Rhysand hadn’t been looking for anything in particular that morning—just enjoying the rare silence before the house stirred. But as he rounded a corner, a familiar figure slipped out of a room that wasn’t his own.

Not his usual early-morning “training run.”

Cassian moved too quickly, his steps a fraction too sharp, his eyes darting like he was trying to slip past unnoticed. His hair was a mess, his shirt wrinkled, and there was the faintest flush still clinging to his skin.

Rhys leaned lazily against the wall, one brow lifting as a slow smirk curved his lips. “Is there a reason you’re sneaking out of (y/n)’s room at this hour, Cassian?”

Cassian froze for the briefest second before schooling his face into something passably neutral. “I was just—checking on her.”

Rhys hummed, his smirk widening. “At this hour? Interesting.”

Cassian shrugged, all false nonchalance, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “People need to talk in private sometimes.”

Rhys pushed off the wall, taking an easy step forward, letting the silence stretch. The faint scent of you still clung to Cassian’s clothes, subtle but unmistakable. And Rhys could practically hear the frantic calculations going on in his brother’s head, searching for a way out of this.

“Mm,” Rhys mused, tilting his head, “you do realize I can smell both of you on each other, right?”

Cassian’s jaw tightened, his face darkening a shade—not quite embarrassment, not quite irritation, but something in between.

Rhys’s grin turned downright wicked. “Relax. I’m not going to tell anyone. I was just curious.”

Cassian shot him a look that could have melted steel. Silence. A muscle ticked in his jaw. He was clearly at a loss for any more excuses, but Rhys wasn’t finished.

“Though, I have to say…” He tapped a finger against his chin, as if deep in thought. “Mor’s going to find out sooner or later. She’s like a bloodhound with these things.” He let the words settle before adding, “Actually, I’d bet she already knows.”

Cassian exhaled sharply through his nose, shaking his head. “Don’t even start, Rhys.”

Rhys chuckled, watching as Cassian shot him one last glare before stalking down the hall, shoulders tight, as if trying to shake off the conversation.

Rhys waited until he was gone before shaking his head to himself, still grinning. As if Mor didn’t already know. She always did.

And as if his cousin hadn’t already brought it up over their last bottle of wine.

He’d be sure to bring this up during their next.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . A . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The dining table was crowded, warm with good food and flowing wine. Conversation wove together in overlapping threads, laughter spilling easily between hands of cards. Between you, Cassian, Rhys, and Feyre, a game was already well underway.

It had been going fine—until Cassian leaned over your shoulder to peek at your hand, his fingers settling at your waist, thumb tracing a slow, absentminded path against your side.

Harmless. Thoughtless. Until it wasn’t.

The realization hit him like a slap. His hand jerked away as if he’d touched an open flame. The same thought must have struck you at the same time, because your laugh came too loud, too forced, the kind that begged to smooth over something unspoken.

A pause stretched. Rhys lifted a brow. Feyre set her cards down, watching with quiet amusement.

You cleared your throat. “Wow. Would you look at that.” A vague gesture toward the cards. “Cassian, you can’t just hover over my shoulder like that. That’s cheating.”

He blinked, slower this time. “What?”

Eyes widening a fraction, you willed him to keep up. “You looked at my cards. Totally unfair. We should restart.”

A beat passed before he nodded. “Right. Yeah. My bad. I just—uh—I thought I saw a smudge. Thought maybe it was marked.”

Feyre snorted. “Marked?”

“Yeah!” You latched onto the excuse. “You know how it is—sometimes people scratch the cards on purpose, and that would ruin the integrity of the game, so…he was just checking.”

Rhys hummed, clearly unconvinced. “And that required putting a hand on your waist?”

Your mouth opened. No words came out.

Cassian cleared his throat. “It was, uh…a reflex.”

You nodded, a little too quickly. “Yeah. Reflex.”

Mor, unimpressed, gave a slow blink. “Reflex.”

Cassian exhaled sharply. “It’s a battle thing.”

“A battle thing?” Her brow furrowed.

You doubled down. “Yeah. Instinct. From training. Checking each other’s balance, making sure no one’s about to fall over.”

Rhys smirked. “Because that’s a real problem when sitting down.”

Cassian shot him a glare. “You don’t understand how deep it goes, Rhys.”

He swirled the liquor in his glass, tilting his head. “Oh, I think I do.”

The room stilled, the air thick with something unspoken. Then, unimpressed as ever, Amren set down her glass and deadpanned, “You two can stop pretending. We all know.”

Silence.

You went still. Cassian barely breathed beside you.

Then Rhys started laughing.

Forcing a smile, you gave one last feeble attempt. “I…don’t know what you mean.”

Cassian nodded, too fast. “Yeah. No clue.”

Amren gave a flat look. “Oh, please.”

Mor, who had been watching with mild amusement, suddenly stiffened. “…Wait.” Her head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing at Amren. “What do you mean we all know?”

A slow, put-upon sigh. “Exactly what it sounds like.”

Mor blinked. “You knew?”

“Obviously.” Amren took another sip from her goblet, utterly unimpressed.

A moment of stillness. Then Mor’s expression twisted in pure offense. “But—I was the first to know!”

A quiet sound from Azriel—might’ve been a laugh. “Were you?”

“Of course I was!” Mor huffed, arms crossing. “I walked in on them, for fuck’s sake! That should’ve given me first place!”

Cassian groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Can we not bring that up?”

You muttered, “Please, let’s not.”

Rhys, grinning like this was the best entertainment he’d had in years, leaned in. “I don’t know, Cass. I think it’s an important detail. Adds to the drama.”

Cassian shot him a murderous look. “Shut up, Rhys.”

But Mor was still reeling, eyes darting between Amren, Feyre, and Az. “…So, how did you all find out?”

Feyre smirked. “Az figured it out first. I caught on about two months ago.”

Calm as ever, Azriel shrugged. “It wasn’t exactly subtle.”

Mor turned on Cassian, scandalized. “I thought you two were being sneaky.”

“We were!” Cassian threw up his hands. “Apparently, just not sneaky enough!”

Rhys chuckled. “Well, to be fair, Cass, you do have a habit of sneaking out of rooms at dawn. It’s not exactly inconspicuous.”

Cassian muttered something under his breath about everyone minding their own damn business.

Mor, still trying to process the betrayal, shook her head. “Let me get this straight—I had the deep misfortune of walking in while he was balls-deep, and yet somehow everyone else figured it out before me?”

Rhys smirked. “Not everyone. I only found out because you told me.”

Cassian’s head whipped toward Rhys just as yours snapped toward his.

Utter betrayal. “You said he caught you sneaking out, not that she told him!”

Rhys stretched back in his seat, his grin widening. “This is even better than I expected.”

Feyre turned on him, brows raised. “Wait—you knew? And you didn’t tell me?”

Rhys’s smirk didn’t waver. “You didn’t tell me either, Feyre darling.”

A scoff. “Because I thought I was the only one who knew!”

Amren, officially done, rose from her seat. “Are we going to spend the next hour debating who the reigning authority on court gossip is?”

Mor scowled. “I am.”

Feyre raised a brow. “Are you?”

Azriel took another sip of his drink, offering nothing.

Cassian leaned in close, voice low. “Maybe if we just sit here quietly, they’ll forget we exist.”

You sighed. “Unlikely.”

[captainsophiestark]

Better Than I Dreamed

Azriel x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for day four of the @sjmxreaderweek event!

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Day Two Prompt: Villain/Heroes

Summary: The Autumn Court's only female spy has officially defected to the Night Court to start a new life that's more than she ever could've imagined.

Word Count: 1,768

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Cauldron boil me, I love this song!"

I laughed as Cassian, the feared general of the Night Court's armies, shouted to be heard over the music from the middle of the dance floor at Rita's. It shouldn't have been possible, but he managed to up the energy by another level as he danced and jumped around, Mor doing the same right beside him. I grinned and followed suit.

Six months ago, I'd been the only female spy in the Autumn Court. I'd worked my ass off to gather secrets and protect that absolute asshole Beron, despite constant danger and disrespect even from within my own court. It had been hell, but I'd been so deep in the middle of it, I hadn't even noticed.

Four months ago, I'd officially decided to defect from the only home I'd ever known, to the Night Court of all places. I'd run into Azriel on a mission two weeks before, and even though we were quite literally enemies, he'd saved my life. It had been the first crack in the foundations of my loyalty to the Autumn Court, which had quickly come tumbling down. Even though he had no reason to do so, Az had helped me through everything. He'd been my lifeline when I needed him, and we'd been almost inseparable ever since.

Last week, I'd finally passed the final test from Rhys and the rest of his Inner Circle to prove my loyalty and trustworthiness to the Night Court. I'd been allowed to relocate here, in Velaris, with the help of all my new friends. It came after working shoulder to shoulder with all of them on a dangerous, high-stakes intelligence mission, which we'd barely managed to pull off. But barely still counted as a success!

Which was why we all now found ourselves at Rita's, celebrating both my clearing of the final security checks and our success on the mission.

I laughed as Cassian and Mor linked arms and swung each other around the dance floor, picking up enough velocity to be a threat to anybody standing too close. I shifted back slightly to give them more space without having to slow down my own manic dancing energy levels.

No sooner had I shifted back than I felt a looming, shadowy presence directly behind me. I turned to find none other than Azriel, the fearsome Spymaster of the Night Court, staring me down. I smiled.

"Hey. I was wondering where you'd disappeared to."

He shrugged, the corner of his mouth lifting into the barest hint of a smile.

"I had something to take care of."

I frowned, but before I could get out a clarifying question, the band changed the song they were playing to my absolute favorite song of all time. I'd first heard it on the first day I'd been allowed in Velaris, walking through the streets with Azriel and Mor. The smile returned in a split second, bigger and brighter than ever.

"May I have this dance?" Azriel asked, extending one hand to me. I took it without hesitation.

"Like you even have to ask."

Az pulled me closer to him, and the two of us started bouncing and moving with the rhythm of the music. I'd heard this song plenty of times since coming to the Night Court, alone and in the company of the member's of Rhysand's inner circle. But nothing stood out quite as much as the few different times I'd heard it in the company of Az, and just Az. It had sort of become our unofficial song.

My heart felt the lightest it had, possibly ever, as Az and I danced together, chest to chest. Our song ended, but we didn't slow down, carving out our own space just the two of us in the middle of the crowded Rita's dancefloor. A dazey smile floated onto my face, and a happy laugh literally bubbled out of me on our fifth or sixth song.

"What?" asked Az, a bemused smile on his own face. I shook my head and laughed again.

"Nothing. It's just... I kind of can't believe this is my real life. You know, if anybody I worked with in the Autumn Court could see me right now, they'd be absolutely shaking in their boots, head to toe."

"...Why?"

"Well, you're... you! You must know what your reputation is in the other courts. The terrifying, all-seeing spymaster of the Night Court, thought to perfectly resemble and maybe actually be the Shadow of Death. You were the number one fear of every spy in that court, and now..." A smile pulled onto my face, slightly delirious, and I shook my head. "Now I'm here, dancing with you in a club, feeling safer and more comfortable and at home than I ever have in my life."

A strange look flickered across Azriel's face which I couldn't quite decipher. Some day, I hoped I'd be able to read all the microexpressions that flickered across his face. I wanted to stay as close as possible to the shadowsinger, for as long as he'd let me.

The realization sent another wave of giddiness flooding through me, especially as Azriel tentatively reached out to put his hands on my waist, our dancing shifting to something a little slower and more intimate. I leaned into him. I knew I was beaming like an idiot, but I just couldn't bring myself to care.

"You're like... you're like a scary teddy bear, or like a wolf that only you are friends with who would shred anyone else. And I just... I feel so fucking lucky that I'm one of the people who gets to be here, with you, like this. Especially after everything that happened and where I came from."

Az gently squeezed my sides, but when I looked back at him after staring off into space as I tried to get my thoughts together, I found him carefully scanning my face with an eyebrow raised. I thought the corner of his mouth might just be twitching up towards a smile, but I might've been imagining it.

"...Are you drunk?"

"No!" I cried, whacking him on the arm. "Just... happy. I... I didn't realize how unhappy I was, how much I was missing critical components of my life, until I got here, with you all. I'm a little giddy about being here, I'll admit."

Az's mouth really did pull up into a smile at that, and he pulled me even closer to him, until our chests were pressed against each other. My heart sped up.

"I can't say I can ever remember being giddy, but... I'm damn happy that you're here right now, too."

I grinned at Azriel, and I got a rare, bright smile back from him. A magnetic force seemed to pull me closer to him, and him closer to me, and the next thing I knew, his lips were on mine as my hands moved across his shoulders and up to tangle into his hair.

Fireworks exploded in my chest and in my mind. The entire world narrowed down to just me and Azriel, and all of a sudden, an invisible string I hadn't even been aware of snapped taught, connecting my heart to the heart of the male holding me in his arms. Azriel held me tighter and deepened the kiss, but I pulled back after a moment, unable to stop a laugh of absolute joy from bubbling out of me.

"This doesn't feel real," I said, my smile starting to hurt as I shook my head, still gazing at Azriel and holding onto him for dear life.

"I know what you mean."

His gave me a little squeeze, and as the reality of the moment started to really sink in, I put my hands on either side of his face and pulled him back in for another kiss. I'd completely lost all sense of the world around us, and I knew Az had, too. For better or worse, however, we had friends in the vicinity who weren't so oblivious.

"Woo! About time!" cheered Cassian loudly. He and Mor had moved to stand right beside us, and Azriel and I shot them matching glares as we reluctantly broke apart.

"Pay up, Cassian," said Mor with a grin. He rolled his eyes, but I saw him slip Mor some kind of payment. Apparently, they'd bet on this outcome, and Mor had been right.

Azriel huffed and shot the two of them a particularly strong glare, which was enough to snap Cassian back to the moment.

"Look, I'm not gonna judge either of you if you want to celebrate the moment right here and now, but I thought it might be nice to give you both a reminder that we're still at Rita's, in the middle of the dance floor. Not exactly private, if that's something you're after."

Azriel huffed again, wasting no time before turning to walk us both out of the bar. I waved to Cassian and Mor and called back a "Thank you!", to which they just nodded before going back to bickering over whatever Cassian had just been required to pay up. I quickly forgot all about the both of them, though, as Azriel and I cleared the door to Rita's and he lifted me into his arms before launching off into the sky.

I shrieked and laughed again, the wind whipping at my clothes and the strong arms of Azriel—of my mate—supporting me bringing back that delirious, giddy feeling I'd had in the bar. I rested my head on his shoulder, bringing one hand up to brush some of the hair back from his face.

"I love you, Az," I said. My voice was quiet, but I knew Az well enough to know he'd be able to hear me over the wind. "This still feels like a dream, but it's one I don't want to wake up from. Ever. I love you so much."

"...I love you too. More than-" Azriel's voice actually broke, and I saw his jaw clench tight to hold back whatever emotion was about to break through. He took a deep breath, holding me tighter to him. When he spoke again, his voice was strong and set in a way I hadn't heard before. "I love you too."

I curled into Azriel's chest, no more words needed as we sailed above the city of Velaris together. I had no idea where we were going, but I trusted that Azriel would find us somewhere perfect. My new life in Velaris and with him had just begun, and already it was better than anything I'd ever known. I couldn't wait to see where it went next.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21 @diego42

Maasverse: @lilah-asteria

[potatoplace]

First Baby

SJM x Reader Week Day 1: Beginnings @sjmxreaderweek

Nesta x Reader

Event Masterlist | ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist | AO3 Link

Story Summary: After a year of marriage, you and Nesta decide to take the next step in your relationship.

Warnings: none!

Words: ~1k

Author's Note: ahh I love this one, not sure how good the writing is as I'm suuuper distracted by my ooown new baby, but I'm so happy to have another awesome event week to participate in! I hope you guys like this one 🫶

18+ only pls

🤍🩶💞🩶🤍

“Are you sure about this?”

You turned to look at your love, her silver eyes meeting yours. “Of course I am sweetheart. I want us to take the next step together.”

A relieved smile slipped onto her face. “Good, I’m dying to take the next step too,” Nesta sighed, turning the knob in front of you and opening the door.

“Good afternoon!” the young woman behind the counter said, as your eyes took in just how adorable the building was. Pink walls, a themed menu board, and a large room to the side, glass walls allowing you to see inside.

Immediately your eyes caught on the babies, and you could swear that hearts formed in them in an instant. Nesta tugged you by the hand towards the counter, her smile growing when she noticed your eyes staying glued to the reason that you’d come here.

A baby.

The two of you had been thinking about having a child for two years now, ever since you’d gotten married. Both of you had always thought about having children, but had never believed you would find the right person.

Until you met each other.

But your families had their doubts about the two of you raising a child, and that had instilled doubts in the both of you…

So you came here.

“How can I help the two of you? Are you looking to socialize with the cats, or just here for the café?”

“We’re looking to adopt, if we find the right baby to bring home,” Nesta answered, squeezing your hand.

“Ah, two for the next snuggle session!” the woman said, smiling brightly at both of you. “Were the two of you wanting anything to drink or eat?”

Your eyes flicked up to the board, happy to see the themed names for everything. “I’ll have a medium iced meowca, please," you said with a giggle, looking at Nesta.

“And I’d like a medium iced ameowicano with an extra shot, please,” Nesta said with a slight blush on her cheeks, but you were proud of her for saying the cute-ified name.

“Perfect! That’ll be $41.86.” Nesta pressed her card to the screen, too quickly for you to grab your own. “Alright, here are your wristbands, and those drinks will be out in a few minutes! Your session will start in about ten minutes, and last for forty-five minutes,” she explained. “Feel free to sit or look in at the kitties, if you’d like.”

You excitedly pulled Nesta to the glass, peering in at the tiny babies and mama cats wandering around, playing and interacting with the people in before you.

“Oh- look at that one!” you squealed, pointing to a tiny Siamese kitten, playing with a toy that someone was dangling for them. “That one is so cute!”

Nesta chuckled beside you, pulling you in after snaking an arm around your waist. “They are very cute, I hope they like being held…” The two of you watched the cats, both of you pointing out those you found adorable. But your own eyes kept drifting back to the tiny one you’d spotted first, their light fur and dark brown markings so beautiful you could hardly look away.

Your order was called out, and Nesta grabbed them for you, letting you stand with an awed look on your face as you continued staring. She lifted the straw to your lips, your mouth parting automatically and taking a sip, only then looking over at Nesta sheepishly and grabbing the drink from her hand. “Thank you, Nessie,” you said sweetly as you rested your head on her shoulder.

“Of course, Y/N, anything for my little wife,” Nesta replied, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

Only a few minutes later, and the pair of you plus two others were ushered into the glass room, your heart melting at how many cats lay before you.

You made a beeline for the adorable Siamese you’d had your eyes on, cooing when it rolled over on the ground, showing its tiny tummy to you. Plopping on the ground, you slowly reached your hand towards the soft fur, delighted when the kitten began to purr immediately.

“I see you found one that you love already,” Nesta said as she sat beside you, her own hand reaching to pet the baby’s head. “Oh, she’s soft.”

“She?”

“Look down, Y/N,” Nesta chuckled, your eyes going lower and confirming that she was, in fact, a girl. “Maybe we found our little princess already.”

You nodded, agreeing entirely. Especially when the little girl sat up and toddled over between the two of you. Her tiny legs launched her onto your lap, the force of it causing her to stumble slightly, legs nearly going over her head before righting herself.

Both of you giggled at her clumsiness, fingers reaching to scratch her. “I think I love her,” you said quietly after she laid down on your leg, tiny legs tucked underneath her, forming the perfect tiny loaf.

“You loved her from the moment you laid eyes on her, I think,” Nesta replied as she scratched between her ears softly.

“Just like I did with you,” you said with a smile at her, heart clenching at the loving look in her eyes. “Do you love her?”

Nesta looked back down at the baby, eyes softening even further at the way she stretched, then blinked her pretty blue eyes up at her. “I think I do,” Nes admitted. “Awe!”

The little girl had turned onto her back, baring her tummy once more. As soon as Nesta’s fingers touched her food-filled tummy, she began purring up a storm, loudly enough that you could feel it through your jeans.

“Scratch that,” Nesta said quickly. “I know I do.”

You giggled at her, happy that she’d fallen in love with the same sweetie as you. “Enough to take her home today? Because I’d love to take her home today,” you said in a baby voice as you let your own fingers scritch her tiny tummy.

“I’d love that too,” Nesta said softly, letting her head rest against your shoulder as she stared down at who you hoped would be your first child together. A fur baby, yes, but a baby all the same.

🤍🩶💞🩶🤍

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