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pit-and-the-pen · 1 month ago

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Sooooo…. I promise I didn’t forget about this but I had some sever writers block for some reason. Anywho. Working on part 7 currently!!!

I'll Crawl Home to Her- Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Think of this chapter as an apology for the last chapter <3 I split this into two parts so hopefully, I don’t have as long between them! (also girly finally has a name, let's just pretend I've been using it the whole time...)

Warnings: Mentions of not eating and weight loss, grief (Rhys is not doing well without Feyre),

WC: 12k

After Rhys and I got back to the house, things seemed better. Madja had already arrived, diligently working on Cassian’s shredded wings. She had knocked him out with a hefty dose of sleeping tonic, hopefully enough to keep out the worst of the pain while she healed what she could.

Azriel had been moved to his room, and once Madja confirmed Cassian would be able to fly again, I didn’t leave his side. It felt strange. To not have his head in my lap without his voice or seeing his hazel eyes. No snarky comments. He stayed asleep as his body cleared out what little poison had found its way into his blood, the wound in his chest already looking better. I protested any time someone suggested that I move from my spot. So Rhys and Mor brought me food, leaving on the nightstand without a word.

A small part of me felt guilty for not being there for Rhys. For not sitting by Cassian while his wings healed. The mating bond was so new that I wasn’t surprised by his small outbursts or hard stares. I didn’t blame him. I tried not to let my mind drift to what I would have done to the King of Hybern, to Tamlin and Lucien, if Azriel didn’t make it. Even then, it wasn’t the same. Azriel wasn’t my mate. But staring at his sleeping face, I accepted that whatever I did feel for him had long passed the childish crush I harbored for so long.

It was days before he even twitched, before any semblance of movement came from the figure in the bed. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t take my eyes off of him for a single second. The last time he ended up with an arrow in his chest. And gods help me if he doesn't wake up. No. He’s going to wake up.

As if the mother herself heard my words. There was a faint twitch in his wings. Then before I knew it he shot upright in his bed. Chest heaving as his head whipped around. My hands were instantly wrapped around his. “Az. Az.” He shoved me off, eyes wild. I tried to get my feet under me but I wasn’t expecting the sudden push and I found myself on my back on the ground, a harsh cry falling from my lips at the contact. The sound of Azriel’s labored breathing filling the space. I went to pull myself up before shadows started to fly around the room. In perfect time with his rapid breaths. I sat there, utterly unable to think of anything to do besides look. My body acted before my mind caught up with it. I reached out a shaky hand for one of the black tendrils. Sliding my fingers over it and the flurry of movement stopped. “Azriel?” I spoke, voice shaky.

“Melody.” He all but whispered back. Voice caressing my name. The shadows retreated back to Azriel. Staying close by his side. I could finally see him, see those hazel eyes staring back at me. I pushed myself off the ground and stayed still only long enough for him to see that it really was me. Then I launched myself against his chest. My arms wound around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. I didn’t think as I pressed a kiss to the top of his head. But his arms wound around my waist instead of pulling away.

“You’re safe. It’s okay. You’re home.” I muttered into his chestnut curls. Rocking back and forth on my heels as I held him. Eventually I untangled myself from him. His hands stayed on the small of my back. Holding me close to him still.

“How do you feel?” I worked up the courage to ask him.

“Did that really happen? It wasn’t just a bad dream?”

“I’m so sorry-”

“You’re sorry? Melody. I almost got us all killed. If I had known Jurian was going to have an ash arrow…”

“Absolutely not. You’re not blaming yourself for any of that. Not when I almost lost you.” My voice broke and the familiar sting in my jaw had me turning away from him. “Cauldron boil me. I thought you were going to die. So you don’t get to sit here and blame yourself for not knowing everything that could happen in the world. Tamlin fucked us over. End of story.” I fought the tremble in my voice. Fought the rising panic at the twisted slideshow of him half conscious in my arms.

“Hey. Look at me. Princess, I’m right here.” He raised a tentative hand to tap at my cheek. I might have been imagining things but I swore a single tear rolled down his cheek. I let his words sink in. He’s here. He’s alive. Isn’t that exactly what I had been praying for all week. For him to wake up and be okay. So then why the hell was I crying.

“I’m sorry. You’re the one that's injured and I’m crying.”

“No need to cry over me, sweet girl. Save your tears for someone important.”

“Azriel” My tone is deathly serious. “Do not think for a second that you aren’-”

A knock on the door interrupted my words. Making me jump out of his hold. I took a large step back before Cassian’s head peaked around the frame of the door.

“Welcome back to the world of the living. Az.” Cassian walked into the room and I held back a gasp. I haven't seen much of Cassian outside of those first few hours. The hours where Madja was frantically trying to piece his wings back together. But I think I overestimated just how well Madja could heal, or underestimated how hard wings would be to heal. Something. Because I was not expecting to see every single inch of Cassian's wings covered in bandages. He seemed to trace both of our eyes. He tried to hide the wince as he gave them a little flap.

“Looks worse than it feels.” He gritted out.

“I doubt that.” Azriel mutters. I go to elbow him before I stop myself. My eyes instead landed on the angry red mark right over his heart. Perfectly poised. I feel my breathing speed up as I really see it for the first time in a week.

“Should you even be walking around?” Azriel chuckles, but concern laces his every word. Cassian laughs before the sound cuts off with a grunt.

“Rhys told us you were awake. So I wanted to see you with my own eyes. It’s right back to bed rest after this.”

Azriel makes a noise in agreement.

“Cassian?” Azriel starts. “I’m glad you’re still here.” His voice sounded thick. A slight wobble that makes my chest pang.

“I’m glad you’re still here too. Although we both know it’ll take more than that to get us both.”

A sob bubbled through my lips. I turned my face away as the two Illyrian warriors trained their eyes on me. I held up my hand, signaling them to give me a minute.

“How about.” I took a deep breath. “We don’t go around trying to tempt fate right now. Just be happy you both are here. End of sentence.”

“Princess.”

“No, I know. I’m happy you’re feeling a little better Cassian. Now get your ass back in bed. I’ll…I’ll grab you both food.” I said, suddenly needing to do something with my hands. I shoo Cassian back across the hall to his room and I did not leave until he propped up with his pillows again. I shot him a glare that told him to not move and then headed towards the kitchen.

I didn’t do much. Just heated up some pieces of bread and cut thin slices of cheese, some leftover meat from the fridge. Not nearly enough for two full grown Illyrains that were still trying to heal, but enough to get them through until I could cook dinner.

I walked into Cassian’s room first. Cassian was nothing but smiles as I handed him the plate.

“I might get hurt more often if it means I get to see you playing nurse princess.”

“Cassian-”

“Don’t. I know. We’re both here. We’re all here.” He flinched slightly. “Well not all all of us but she’s okay at least.” He was rambling and I leaned down to press a light kiss to his forehead, deciding against giving him one of his signature hugs.

“No more dying on me, General. Do you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am.” I point to the plate and mime eating before I turn around and carry the other plate to Azriel’s room.

I knock despite the open door, not wanting to startle him. But his shadows are already nudging the door open wider for me. The fae lights cast a small glow to the room, the curtains still drawn tight. I place the tray of food on the small table beside his bed and sit down next to him. He doesn’t say much, just letting us sit in comfortable silence.

“You should eat.” I say eventually. He chuckles.

“I’ll survive.”

“Az.”

“Just stay with me?” He asks, and how am I to deny him. I curl up closer to his side. I don’t know when it happens but feeling him next to me sends me into a dreamless sleep.

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The next few days pass the same. I help the boys with whatever they need. Cassian needed more help than Azriel due to his balance issues. Eventually Cas was able to walk without my arm to support him. We walked back and forth along the long hallways in the townhouse. We spent hours with him just flexing his wings up and down, up and down, until he was sweating and wincing with pain.

Rhys is busy with literally anything else it seems. He is only in the house long enough to change clothes and maybe eat whatever I’ve left out for him. He’s never in his room for more than a few minutes. At this point I’m surprised that he has any hair left with how much he’s been running his hand through it. Not once has anyone dared mention Feyre. No ideas have been shared on how to get her back. I know that the mating bond wasn’t the one that was snapped between them but I can see the way the distance is wearing him thin.

Rhys will push down emotions until they nearly kill him and I had enough of it, I catch him one day trying to sneak out to do gods knows during the late hours of the night. The lights flicker on in the hallway as I sit down at the large table in the kitchen.

“Hello.” Is all he says to me, turning to leave again.

“Sit down Rhys.” I sigh to him. He tries to pretend he doesn’t hear me. “Rhysand. Sit your ass down in this chair right now or so help me, I’m following you wherever you go.”

He flinches at my tone. The voice that makes me sound eerily similar to our mother. I see his shoulder rise as he takes a deep breath and he sits in the chair that I kicked out with my foot.

“You’re not sleeping, you’re hardly eating. When was the last time you even bathed?” I could see the dark circles under his eyes, the slightly sick pallor of his tan skin. “Everyone else might be content to let you destroy yourself but I’m not going to sit back and watch it happen.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares blankly at a spot behind my shoulder.

“Killing yourself isn’t going to bring her back.” I whisper, scared to say it too loudly. He flinches.

“Melody-Please.” His voice breaks.

“No. And you can’t keep blaming yourself that it happened-” He opens his mouth to try to interrupt me but I hold up a hand. “You aren’t going to sit here and tell me that’s not exactly what’s happening here. You’re punishing yourself for what happened at Hybern. No of us saw it coming. We got sold out by the one person we should have seen it coming from. But guess what, it happened. And we all survived. Be happy for that. Be happy that you didn’t have to take home your brother's lifeless body. Be happy that Cassian was able to keep his wings, and most of all, be happy that Feyre is somewhere where we know she’s safe.”

“BUT SHE SHOULD BE HERE!” His fist slams down on the table, I don’t even flinch. “I should have been able to protect her. The one thing in life I swore I would do, I wasn’t able to do. And now she’s back at that house that she hated. The one that he locked her away in and there’s nothing that I can do.” His head slumps, his voice breaking.

“So you do what you can. And most importantly you remember why she did it. She didn’t put herself back in Tamlin’s arms because she was trying to save herself. Rhys,” I place my hand over his, still clenched in a fist. “She did it for you, for us, for her real home. She did so that we could come back.” He takes a deep breath, his head shaking slightly.

“I should have been enough to protect her. Why do the people I love always get hurt?” He speaks like it’s a confession. And the words sound so foreign to me, that self hatred I know he hides away. That I feel tears well in my eyes.

“Rhys-”

“I wasn’t enough to save you. I couldn’t save our other sister, I couldn’t save my own mother. Cassian and Azriel should have died in Hybern. I should have died under the mountain.”

“It’s not your job to save everyone.” And once again he’s shaking his head.

“I’m sorry that you’ve felt like this for so long. But we’re your family. No one thinks you're a failure Rhys. If you do, fine, that’s your own guilt to process and I won’t tell you what to feel but I know I don’t see you like that. And no one else sees you like that. We’re by your side through all of this not because you’re our high lord but because we love you. We’re in this together and we always have been.” And he looks at me, really looks at me and I see nothing more than my older brother. The boy he used to be before he ever thought he would be high lord. The scared boy in Illyria who took in strays because he cared so much.

“Now, you can sit here and continue to feel sorry for yourself, continue to waste away while we’re forced to watch, or you can make sure all of this means something.”

The difference was night and day. Cassian’s wings were getting stronger every day. We had taken to him training by carrying me up to the house of wind then back down. He didn’t make it the first time but within a week he was able to do it without breaking a sweat. Azriel and Rhys were watching the other courts. Spy networks to try to figure out plans and paths for the other courts.

Rhys took over for what Azriel couldn’t do. Rhys didn’t open up more than he did that night, but I saw the way his face seemed more relaxed. His shoulders were a little less tense and it wasn’t perfect but it was a start. We’d focus on all the other stuff after the war. And the war was coming whether we liked it or not. He had only been gone for half a day when I felt the image slam into my head. Cassian and Azriel were sitting next to me, one of the few moments that the three of us were together. Feyre being slashed across the face by Eris. Running, ice cracking under her. She was in Winter. Close enough from the border that we could be there in a matter of minutes.

“Shit.” I pushed myself up to my feet, not caring as the chair clattered to the ground at my feet. Cassian was out of the house faster than I could blink.Azriel following right behind.l I was left on my feet staring at the open door of the house.

I’m on my way back. She’s going to be okay. Rhys' voice filled my head and I could hear the desperation in his voice, the sheer force at which he was rushing to get back to the house.

I sat and waited, picking at my nail bed until they started bleeding, watching the scabs form only to pick them back open. Blood was caked under my nails by the time I heard the beating of wings. They’re back. I practically screamed in my head. I felt the sigh of relief from my brother.

Less than 5 minutes.

My throat felt tight as I took in Feyre. Her clothing was torn and dirty. Hair a tangled mess. But she was alive. Alive and home. I sent the image of her standing in front of me to my brother.

“Feyre.” I choked out. And her small smile was all I needed to launch myself into her arms. She seemed taken aback by my sudden movement, arms hanging limply by her side until they wrapped around my shoulders.

“Welcome home.” I whispered, clutching her closer. I finally pulled away from her, giving her a quick once over for any major injuries. She seemed okay, safe for a gash that was already healing in her arm.

“Eris had her cornered.” I felt the blood leave my face at Cassian’s words.

“How did she-”

“You think I would let her die?”

The relief that had rushed through me was quickly pushed out of my body as I caught a glimpse of the long red hair that trailed behind her.

“Get out.” My tone was enough to make Lucine freeze in his tracks. His eyes locked with mine and I felt Azriel by my side in an instant. “How dare you show your face in this city. In my house.” I felt that darkness rattling in its cage. Begging to be released. Genuine fear flashed across Lucines face. I risked a glance at Feyre and I saw the startled look on her face.

“He saved me.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck what he did. I care about what he’s done.” They both flinched.

Feyre said my name and it was only the near silent footsteps of my brother entering the room that stopped me from wrapping my hands around Lucien’s throat. I looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath.

“Don’t think this is over.” I gritted out to Lucien who took a deep breath of his own.

Rhys cleared his throat from behind me and I had the sense to step out of the way. Letting Feyre see her mate. And when their eyes met, she collapsed onto the floor. Sobs already echoing through the room. Rhys was on his knees in front of her in a matter of seconds, holding her face in his hands before they whispered to each other and he pulled her lips to his.

I was happy for them, but I would be happier if I was anywhere but that room.

“Find somewhere else to be.” Rhys didn’t even pull away from Feyre long enough to make sure we heard him. And I didn’t need to be told twice. I pushed the two gawking Illyrians out of the house, Mor grabbing Lucien’s arm and towing him behind her.

“Gods.” Cassian mumbled under his breath as I pushed him a little too hard. Azriel glanced at me, silently asking if I was okay. I thought for a second and shrugged.

Mor winnowed all of us to the outskirts of the house of wind, Azriel flying me up to the door.

The moment we entered the house, I had the front of Lucien’s shirt in my hands.

“You fucking bastard. You scheming, slimy bastard.” I shoved him so hard he fell onto his back, scooting across the floor as I stalked over him. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now.” Lucien was silent. The room was silent. The redhead in front of me just hung his head, shaking it slightly.

“I don’t have one.” HIs voice shook but I didn’t let it freeze the anger burning through me.

“Then you better start explaining what the hell happened.”

So he did.

“Despite what you think, Tamlin does love Feyre. In his own way and after everything with Ama- With her” He corrected himself, not willing to say the witch queen's name. “He was so scared. His court was, is, in ruins. It looked bad to have a partner going back and forth. He tried to get information out of Feyre. Layouts and locations and plans. But she only gave us the same excuse that she didn’t remember. Saying that Rhysand was playing with her memory. They were insignificant details. But it terrified Tamlin. To think that he was sending his mate into danger whenever she left his side. If we had known what was really happening..”

“You would have never let her leave.” Lucien had the decency to look ashamed.

“He got more and more worried. Was searching all over for any way to break the bond. Every time he thought he might have found a way, it was a dead end. So he got more scared, but also was spending more time away. I was too. I saw through the happy act she was putting on but I couldn’t do anything to help. I didn’t know what she wanted, what she was waiting for. She started talking to me but that only made Tamlin more and more mad. She was looking for any way to help us and Tam pushed her away everytime.” The words kept coming.

“Then he lost it. She had threatened to follow us. To leave the house, Tamlin was so scared he was shaking. The thought of her getting hurt again because of him was eating him alive. I don’t think he even began to think of what locking her in the house would do. Neither of us did.” He looked to Mor now, for the first time.

“I’m glad you got her. She was drowning and there was nothing I could have done.”

“You could have stood up to him.” I said bluntly.

“I couldn’t help you. Why do you think I could suddenly help her.”

“Because you should have.”

“And then what? I piss off Tamlin enough that he kicks me out of the court, thinking I’m making another move on Feyre. Don’t give me that look, he thought when she first got there but I would never. If he gets sick of me, then where do I go? Not back to Autumn. And who would take me in, everyone’s afraid of my father. Afraid of Tamlin. I would be utterly fucked. So I sat by yet again and watched every day as she got worse and worse. And I hate myself for it.”

“So how does all of this become helping Hybern?”

“Tamlin lost it when he came back and found Feyre gone. He searched the whole court for her, even sent people into summer to look for her. We searched for days and then he caught that familiar whiff of Rhysands power and he truly lost his mind. Again, we’d been hearing how awful he was to her but he knew he couldn’t just march into the Night Court and get her. And now I know we wouldn’t have found her anyways because she was here. He tore the entire manor apart. He just…he’s not himself anymore. I don’t know what happened to my friend but something under the mountain changed him.”

“Good. He could burn the entire place to the ground and he still wouldn’t have gotten all he deserves.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t. Fucking. Speak. For. Me” I hissed at him. He raised his hands in surrender.

“Hybern walked right in. Offered Tamlin a way to get Feyre back and stopped listening after that. Plus Ianthe did what she does best. She saw an opportunity for more power and she jumped on it. Whispering to Tamlin how everything would be better if we joined Hybern. We, I, never wanted to go that far. But once Tam get’s something in his head…”

“It’s like talking to a brick wall.” I finished for him. He nodded and I let out a heavy sigh. Everyone held their breath as I reached out a hand to pull Lucien off of the floor.

“Thank you-”

“If you take one step out of line. One hint that you’re going to go running back to him. And I’ll gut you where you stand.” Was all I said as I walked away from the group. I felt all their eyes on me and I didn’t care. I stormed up the stairs to my room and slammed the door. I was acting like an upset babe but so be it. I can feel the anger coming off of me in waves. Explanation or not, it doesn’t undo everything that Tamlin has done. The image of Feyre’s face as she had to watch her sisters being thrown into the cauldron, not knowing if they would survive, was something that haunted my dreams. A feeling of being helpless to defend your own blood. It boiled my blood. Despite Lucien claiming he wanted to stop him, he didn’t. And that’s the only thing that matters. He could have but it was uncomfortable for him to do, so he did what he does. Sat back and let it happen. Playing the nice guy when Tamlin wasn’t around. I can’t count the amount of times Lucien held me as I cried only to let the same thing happen again and again. But he’s here. He got Feyre back.

Part of me was more angry about that. He got her out. And I’m thankful that he did but why was she any different? What had been so bad that he decided to leave another court. I pushed the thought away, choosing to sit in my own rage instead of nurturing the little kernel of sympathy that I was feeling for Lucien. He made his bed, he can fucking rot in it for all I care. At least that’s what I told myself as I flung myself onto the bed and pulled the covers over my head. Blocking out the faint knocks I heard on my door.

Of course it wasn’t that easy. I felt the bed dip as someone sat down next to me. I peeked my head out from the covers long enough to see Mor. Her face was tight. Eyebrows pulled close to her nose and her teeth clenched.

“I wish you would have hit him at least.” She joked and I pulled the blanket back over my head. “Okay, wrong thing to say.” She gave a tense laugh. “It was weird seeing him.” Her voice was suddenly small. I wanted to kick myself in the head. I never once considered what it would be like for Mor to see him. Her own memories that would have dragged back up. I pulled the covers back down, looking at her now.

“I don’t remember much, but he was the one that called Azriel for me that day.” She was picking at her nails, chipping off pieces of her perfect manicure.

“I’m not saying I’m happy he’s here. But there’s good in him, as good as any of the Vanserras can be.”

“That makes it worse.”

“Why?”

“Because he could be good. But good people can’t stand around and watch bad things happen.”

“You know it’s not that simple.”

“Amarantha almost killed me for doing it. So yes, I do know. But I also know that I would rather die than watch the people I love get hurt.”

“Then you’re better than most people. Congratulations.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice and I fought the urge to kick her out of the room. I know she was hurting, the way her eyes were flickering around the room, avoiding mine, let me know as much. So I let her bitch at me. If it made her feel better. I pulled the blanket back a little more, patting the area next to me. She thought about it for a second before she crawled next to me. I didn’t hesitate to wrap my arms around her.

“When did everything get so damn complicated?”

“Get?” I asked and she laughed. A real laugh this time and I found myself laughing right along with her.

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We all found ourselves in the house of wind that night. None of us were brave enough to try to see if the coast was clear at the townhome.

“I wouldn’t blame them if we didn’t see them for a month.” Cassian said as he drained the contents of his glass.

“Gross. Okay. It’s bad enough I had to see…all of that. But don’t remind me.”

“Aw sorry Princess. I forgot we had virgin ears in the room.”

“Knock it off you oaf.” I threw a pillow in his general direction. “He’s still my brother. I don’t want to hear your speculation about his sex life.” I cringed even saying the words.

“Prude.” Cassian snorted.

“Asshole.” I countered.

“Gods why don’t you two kiss already, it would be quicker than listening to this all night. Isn’t that what you all do here anyways?” Lucien chirped from the corner of the room.

I was about to snap at him when a deep rumbling growl filled the room.

“Shut your mouth Lucien. I won’t stop her if she goes for your throat this time.” Azriel bit out.

I felt a shameful blush creep over my cheeks as Azriel defended me. I wanted to scream how wrong Lucien was. Wanted to run my hands down Azriel’s perfect face and let him know exactly what I thought of him. It had taken one touch from him earlier to calm me down. Right as he had to haul me off of Lucien earlier.The redhead asked one question about Elain and I lost it.

Screamed at him all over again. For his audacity to say we stole her away from him.

“I don’t know what I expected from the night court.” Muttering under his breath had me launching myself at him. Hands already reaching for his neck. And it was truly only Azriel that stopped me. He picked me up like I weighed nothing. Threw me over his shoulder and put me in my room. I pouted like the child I felt like until I had calmed down enough to be in the same room as him.

Even now, Lucien still gave me a wide berth. I’m honestly a little impressed that he found the nerve to try to make a joke. But Lucien saw everything. That was one of his biggest strengths. So he no doubt could tell the way I knew my eyes lingered on Azriel. The way I blushed when he looked at me for too long and he had decided to go right for the throat in his own way. Calling out Cassian and I’s banter as anything more than just that. Reminding him not so subtly about Cassian and Mor.

“Get snippy with me all you want, shadowsinger. If you can stomach it, go ahead. Me on the other hand. I’m tired and sore and just want to go the fuck to sleep. So goodnight. You all can take turns plotting to kill me in the morning.” And he stormed off with no other words.

He had just left the room before Cassian chuckled, poking me in the ribs with his elbow.

“He sure can dish it out can’t he.”

“Shove it, Cas.” Azriel snapped at him. My eyes shot to Az, eyebrows raised in question.

“Maybe he’s right. We’ve had a long day. It might be time to get some sleep.”

“Yeah.” I stood up, pulling away from Casisan’s side. “Walk with me?” I held my hand out for Azriel to take. He stood with a huff but grabbed my hand anyways. I prayed Azriel missed the way Cassian muttered under his breath.

“Thank you.” I said once we were out of ear shot. I had led him to the library in the house.

“For what?”

“I don’t know. Defending me.” I suddenly felt shy under his gaze.

“Princess, I will always defend you.”

“I know. You know there's nothing going on with Cas and I right?”

He bristled at my words.

“It wouldn’t be a big deal if there was.” His tone was unreadable and I felt stupid for the way my heart sank.

“Yeah totally. But I was just letting you know. I mean you would probably be the first to know anyways. The way these things have been following me around lately.” I looked down at the shadow that was currently resting right at my foot. Nearly wrapped around my ankle. As if sensing my glance, it pulled back in closer to Azriel.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I like having them around. It makes me feel safe. Like there’s always something or someone watching out for me.” I felt my cheeks heat up as the words fell out of my mouth. I tried to look away but a gentle hand brought up to my cheek stopped me.

“Melody, look at me please.” His words were enough to stop my heart in my chest. We still had never talked about the kiss. After everything that had happened with Hybern, it never felt like the right time.

“Azriel. I need to talk to you.”

“Anything.”

“You kissed me.” The words were out of my mouth and you would have thought I poured a bucket of cold water over his head. His hand dropped from my face and he took a step back. I didn't realize just how close we were standing together until I felt the empty space where he had been.

“Az. Please.”

“No. Just stop. It was a mistake. That’s all.” This had to be a nightmare. But the cold shock to my entire system, the pain that radiates through every fiber of my being told me it wasn’t. Not even my nightmares would be this cruel. To let me think that I was so close to having him only to have it ripped away from me.

“Oh. Right.” I took a step back of my own. Willing the world to tilt back onto its axis. Trying to pretend that I didn’t feel like I was drowning in all the words I had planned on telling him.

“Right. Of course. A mistake.” I felt the sting in the back of my teeth, the way my whole face tightened up. The itch in the back of my nose. I was going to fall apart right in front of him if I didn’t get out of here right now.

“Melody.”

“No. That’s all I needed to hear. I just needed to know that you felt the same.” I forced out. Trying to keep my voice as calm as possible. And despite my better judgment, despite that little voice in my head that screamed at me to stay right there and scream and curse and yell at him to love me back. I walked away. I left him standing in the garden, hands balled into fists at his side. And I walked into the house. Trying to keep it together as I passed Cassian. Not even bothering to say good night as I all but ran up the stairs into the room that was mine when we visited.

I almost screamed when I saw a figure curled up in the middle of my bed. But as the fae lights flickered on, I let out a sigh of relief.

Nesta.

“That was…dramatic.”

“What?”

“All of that in the garden.”

My heart stopped for the second time that night. “You..You heard all of that?”

“Well it was kind of hard not too.” She pointed to her ears. “Super hearing, remember? Perk of being made and all of that fun stuff.”

“Nesta. If you heard all of that then you know I’m not in the mood for whatever this is.”

“What all of what is?”

“This thing where you say something hurtful and I throw it right back and we go until we’re both pissed at each other.”

“I just came to bring you this.” She smirked. Holding up one of the smutty romance books I saw her constantly reading around the house. “Figured you’d need it since you clearly aren’t getting anything any time soon.”

“Get out. Please.” Her words sent a fresh pang of disappointment through me. Of course I had thought of Azriel that way over the years. Gods, it was all I could think about lately. But more than anything, I wanted him to be my friend. And I don;t know how I was ever supposed to look at him again without collapsing into tears. Nesta’s eyes met mine and I saw her face drop for the first time. The first time I saw that feline smirk slide off of her beautiful face.

“He must mean a lot to you. To look at him like that.” She said like she was talking to herself.

“He does. He did. I don’t know anymore.”

“Do you still want me to go?” And it was that little bit of warmth in her voice that I clung to. Even if it was sympathy. Even if Nesta really hated me for simply being fae. Sitting alone in my room and crying wasn’t going to get anything done.

“No. I’m sorry.” That was all it took for her to scoot to the other side of my bed. Patting the spot next to her. She curled her knees up to her chest as I climbed in next to her.

“Then you better tell me everything.”

So I did. I told her how it all started. Every little glance and touch and feeling. Almost five hundred years worth of history between Azriel and I. Which wasn’t a lot since it was mostly me just being an idiot in front of him. But she kept quiet. There were no nasty comments to be found on the tip of her tongue.

“I wish I loved someone like that.” She whispered into the air as I finished. Feeling like I had been trampled under an avalanche.

“It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Or do you think I’m just an outlier.”

“That’s not what I meant. I can’t even imagine how you;’re feeling right now. But I also just couldn’t imagine having that much space in me to love someone that much. Love them and not have them.”

“Nesta, has anyone told you that you’re great at pep talks?” I chuckle softly

“No.”

“Good then I don’t have to tell you someone’s been lying to you.” And my words pull a genuine laugh from her. A full head thrown back, eyes crinkled, full bellied laugh..

“Thank you.” I tell her when a comfortable silence fills the air.

“You don’t have to thank me.” She says with a large roll of her eyes.

“I know, but I am. So suck it up.” I elbow her and she laughs again. “No but seriously, thank you. I probably would have spent all night curled up trying not to cry.”

“Well, I’m always here with a book if you need it.” She yawns and goes to leave the room.

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With Feyre now back, we were spending more time than not around the map in my office. Cassian and Azriel taking frequent trips to Windhaven to try to get the Illryians together before the war came. We would need every single male they had so training had become even more rigorous. We had months at most to make them battlefield ready.

I spent all of my time not at the town house at the house of wind. Which despite all the space was feeling very cramped. Nesta and I had called a silent truce since that night when I spilled my guts out to her. Lucien hovering in the background, getting used to the fact that Velaris even existed. And then there was Elain. She mostly just sat in her room and stared out her window. Nesta would be able to get her to eat only enough to keep her alive but she wouldn’t take anymore than that. The few times I tried to talk to her were unsuccessful.

I saw how much it was killing Lucien. To be so close to his mate but not be able to see her. He followed the rules Feyre had given him to a T. and I truly believed he just wanted the best for her. He wanted the same thing that we all did and that was for her to be okay with this life that she did not choose.

I tried again to talk to Elain. Nesta and Lucien get into another fight about what to do with the poor girl.

“Get her some fresh air. Let her see the sun. Being locked up in this house isn’t doing her any good”

As much as I hated to admit it, Lucien was right. Feyre always talked about how much Elain loved gardening. Were we any better than Tamlin, was I any better than Tamlin, if I kept her locked inside a house that she didn’t want to be in and just watched her waste away.

I knocked gently on her door. I didn’t wait for a response, I knew I wasn’t going to get one. To no surprise, Elain was sitting in her chair by the window. The sun made her flecks of auburn shine in her hair. It gave her cheeks so much needed color. But I could see the deep set rings under her eyes. The purple marks that let me know exactly how well she was adjusting to life as a fae.

“Elain, I want to show you something. If that’s okay. You don’t have to, if you don’t want to but I think you’ll like it.

Elain didn’t speak. But she took my outstretched hand and let me lead her to the garden. She seemed more upset after Feyre had left. But I saw the tiniest bit of life return as she took in the flowers around her. It had been my mothers garden. I wanted to burn it all down when I returned home but Rhys wouldn’t let me. The smell alone made me want to puke but I fought it down. Elain’s eyes had been looking out the window longingly for weeks now. If this would bring back a semblance of the girl Feyre had talked about, I could suck it up. If she had gone into that cauldron, kicking and screaming. I could go out to the stupid garden.

So I walked through the familiar hedge’s, twin moon statues on either side and let Elain lead the way from there. She wandered through the rows. Some empty from when I demanded all the roses be pulled from the ground, some not. Some held beautiful twisting nightshades, and my mothers pride and joy, black lilies. Black until the center spots which held a rich purple. I loved them too. I found myself smiling at the flowers, mind wandering to thoughts of my mother.

“You have to be gentle with them. They’re more fragile than your little sister, more fragile than a babe. If you touch the petals too much, they could die.” So I avoided the petals, sprinkling dirt around the newly exposed roots like she had shown me. She patted me on the head when I did it correctly, my own crooked smile plastered on my face. “Now, I think I remember you talking about cookies earlier?”

Elain’s soft voice pulled me out of my memories. “Pretty. I miss my garden at home. I want to go back.” Not unusual for her to say. She always wanted to go home and I could do nothing but wrap my arms around her as she started sobbing again.

“I know you do. I know more than you can understand.” I had stopped apologizing by now. Sorry I wasn't going to undo what was done to her and she had enough sympathy for herself. I couldn’t explain to her that I knew what it was like to want to go back home so badly your bones ached. I couldn’t explain to her that I had barely survived my time under the mountain and the only way I did was with the knowledge that I would see it again someday. So I held her instead. I poured all of the kind thoughts I had about the girl, all the words Feyre had spoken about her, into that hug. Hoping that even for a second I could make this new place feel like home to her.

Eventually, she had cried herself out. I was able to get her to take a few sips from the tea I had brought out. No luck on the assorted fruit or bread. But she did study the bread. Not like she was hungry but in a way that seemed like curiosity. Eyebrows furrowed slightly, eyes unblinking.

“Can you show me how to make this?” She asked suddenly and I jumped, not expecting to hear her voice again.

“Of course. Any reason?”

“I want to do something with my hands again. But gardening..it’s too…” She struggled to find the words, her hands started shaking and she closed her eyes tightly. Sucking in deep breaths through her nose. I placed my hand around hers, breathing in time with her. The trembling stopped and she opened her eyes. That little spark I saw earlier gone. I went to stand up, to show her to the kitchen but she remained sitting. Eyes far away and glassy. So I sat back down.

The two of us sat out there until I saw Nesta marching through the garden. She paused when she saw the two of us. Face softening ever so slightly. Nesta was a harder nut to crack than Elain. All bark and claws and eyerolls, but the way she looked at her sister. We never talked about that night in my room. The secrets that we shared, and I never would. Not when I recognized so much of myself in the female in front of me. So scared she didn't know what way was up or down. Just trying to keep her head above water as everything surrounded her on all sides.

Cassian had seemed to gravitate towards the eldest sister. It didn’t seem to be a conscious decision but he would always sit next to her. Eyes followed her when she walked out of the room. His wings would flair out during their many arguments, but would always curl in slightly towards her. No one dared comment on the fact that Rhys did the same thing with Feyre. The idea that all three of the sisters had found their mates was too complicated for right now. They were still trying to make it through the day, still waking up in the middle of the night screaming from whatever had happened to them in the seconds they were pulled into the cauldron. All of that could wait until later. And it brought me some sick sort of joy to see the way Lucien squirmed when Elain would flat out ignore him. But she ignored everyone so I knew it wasn’t personal, as much as I wished it was.

As if sensing that I was thinking about him, Lucien appeared behind Nesta. He didn’t even get to utter a greeting before Nesta was pulling her sister by the hand back into the house. Lucien’s eyes followed her the entire way. A look that was so full of longing I had to avert my eyes, suddenly feeling like I was intruding on a private moment.

It seemed like he just noticed my presence and went to walk away.

I sighed heavily and kicked the chair Elain had been seated in closer to Lucien. He raised an eyebrow at me.

“Unless you want to go back to pouting in the house, which by all means, do.” I said in return.

He tentatively sat down, shoulders tense. I didn’t try to speak to him. Didn’t want to know what was going on in his mind.

“I know you think I’m horrible.” He started. I kept my face neutral. “And I know it doesn’t fix anything now, but I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all of it. I’m sorry I didn’t get you out of that house. I’m sorry you think I’m such a coward.” I leaned back in my chair as I let his words sink in. “I didn’t ask for her to be my mate. I’m not even sure I really want a mate.” I snorted at the words and he rushed on. “After everything with my last… lover, I never thought that I would be blessed with a mate. You weren’t the first female I had failed to save.” And I knew this. Had heard bits and pieces of the story during my time in spring. His face fell when I didn’t respond, he started to move to get up and I let him. He was almost out of the garden before I spoke his name. He turned to look at me, his face so full of guilt that I couldn’t stop the words that came out of my mouth.

“Make this one time count then.” Make what you did for Feyre count. He looked confused then his face became sullen as he nodded. He didn’t say anything else before he kept walking back to the house.

I sat out by the garden long after the sun had set behind the horizon. It was getting colder out, proof that summer was starting to end, but I didn’t have it in me to move inside. I stared at the stars, tracing the constellations in my mind.

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We all reluctantly agree that a trip to the court of nightmares is needed. If we’re really going to stand any chance we need Kier’s soldiers.

I’m standing at the base of the stairs, waiting for Feyre and Rhys to pull themselves off of each other for long enough for us to get anything done. I’ve been thankful for the fact that I’m practically living in the house of wind. Some silly part of me is jealous over my brother's happiness.

Azriel walks in and we both gawk at each other. For once the Illyrian leathers are gone. Replaced with a suit that puts Rhys’ to shame. Tight black dress shirt that clings to every single one of his muscles. His pants are still those tight training pants that showcase his toned legs. I force my eyes away from him, only to catch his roving all over my body. A small feeling of pride settles in my bones. I might have picked out this dress exactly to get that reaction from him.

The slits on the dress sit high on my hips, the fabric draped expertly to hide as much as they show. A deep vee plunges almost all the way to navel, draped in the same way as the skirt.

I will the goosebumps to disappear on my skin. I can almost feel his gaze like it’s his hands all over me. I look away, biting my lip to hold back a shudder.

“Gods girl. Save some for the rest of us.” Mor says as she takes in my dress. I’m thankful for her interruption. It cuts some of the tension I can practically taste in the air.

I link my arm with Mor and don’t wait around for the others as we winnow to the court of nightmares.

----------------------------------------------------------

Per usual Azriel walked in after us. His dramatic entrance had people darting out of their way. I couldn’t help the satisfied smile that rose on my face. I also couldn’t keep my eyes off of Azriel dressed in his tight button up and dress pants. So unlike the usual fighting leathers he wore around everywhere. Still in his signature black, and of course, he still had the various harnesses that strapped his weapons to him, truth teller hanging at his side. Siphons on his hands and shoulders. But something about his clothes made him look even deadlier. The idea that he didn’t need to be in his leathers to make someone spill their secrets, or to spill their guts.

He caught my eyes across the room, a smirk on his face that softened for merely a second before slipping back in that cold one.And it was that second of a real smile, a break in the cocky and cruel demeanor that made me almost fall to my knees. If Rhys had not been standing beside me, I would have collapsed at the weight of that tiny golden string that seemed to float across the room, settling right in front of Azriel. Azriel’s nostrils flared and I could simply not look away from him. Every single molecule of my body was tuned into him. I lurched forward, Rhys’ hand wrapped around my arm and pulled me back from running down the dias into Azriel’s arms. Azriel noticed the movement and ran his eyes down my entire body, twice, before he turned around and walked towards the meeting room.

My mind went back to our conversation a few weeks ago. It was a mistake. My heart broke all over again. He didn’t want me. Azriel was my mate and he did not want me. Even I had noticed the way his gaze lingered on the oldest Archeron sister. I felt my knees tremble as the weight of what was going to happen crashed over me. He was going to laugh me off. I was never going to be anymore than Rhys’ sister to him. I was a mistake. It was so cruel that I almost wanted to laugh. The very thing I had been praying would happen for centuries happens right as soon as I find out that he doesn’t want me like that. It takes all my focus to turn back to the room. To not focus on that golden string that seemed like it was pulling me tighter and tighter the further Azriel got from me. Could I keep it from him? A small part of me had been hoping that the mother would be kind enough to have my mate be someone else. Someone else so I could get those hazel eyes out of my head. That I could be happy with someone else that was not the male that had made his intentions crystal clear. No. I would not be selfish enough to tell him. Maybe it would never snap for him and we could just continue as we always have. Toeing the line that neither of us would dare to cross. Azriel could be my best friend. I would not lose him because of the bond. I felt a small glimmer of calm wash over me and it was enough to bring my attention back to the room around me.

A scream ran through the air and pulled me out of my downward spiral. I tensed up. Eyes darting around to find the source of the noise .Frozen in the middle of the crowd, three males were trying to plead to those around them to be spared. Cassian grabbed all three of them by the knap of their necks like they were nothing more than puppies.

“Meeting room. Now” Rhys said in the general direction of Kier as he helped Feyre rise from the throne, a ravenous look in his eyes as he watched her walk in front of him. I looked away quickly. Trying not to imagine Azriel giving me that same look. It felt like every nerve in my body was on fire. I was itching to talk to Azriel. Did he know? His look told me that he had at least sensed something. The thought immediately made my hand shoot up to my chest, rubbing away the discomfort that came with it.

The meeting room was nothing special. The same cold marble as the rest of Hewn city. No warmth to be found. I took my usual spot besides Azriel and I tried to ignore the way he shifted his chair ever so slightly away from me.

“Thank you for meeting with us, Kier.”

He scoffed. “Let’s skip the niceties and get down to what you want from me, Rhys. You want my soldiers. And I already know what I want in return.”

“You’ll remember that they are mine. This palace, the people of your court. All of it is mine.” He growls.

“Then that begs the question. Where exactly does our high lord spend all of his time? It’s certainly not in his court. So where exactly do you hide Rhysand?”

“I don’t have time for this.”

“My answer is no.”

“You would-” Azriel starts but Rhys simply holds a hand out for him to stop.

“I anticipated your less than enthusiastic response. That’s why I prepared something that you can’t say no to.” He speaks to the corner of the room. “You can come in.”

I must be dreaming. This has to be some sick twisted nightmare. My eyes dart from my brother to Mor as he enters the room. Eris. A snarl rips past Azriel’s lips and Cassian’s hand is instantly on his sword by his side.

“What is he doing here?” Cassian spits out. So they weren’t aware either.

Rhys ignores us all. I reach under the table and grab Mor’s hand. She instantly has a death grip on mine. Squeezing it so tightly I can feel her nails digging into my skin. I don’t go to move her.

“Eris has been working with us for some time now. In exchange we support him when he kills Beron.”

“And where do I play into this?” I can see the hungry gleam in Kier’s eyes despite his best efforts at appearing nonchalant.

“You’ve wanted an alliance with Autumn for as long as I can remember. This is your way to get it. But you can’t if there is no Pyrthian left to come back to. And that’s what will happen if we do not work together.”

Eris launched into the story of how he had been working against his fathers back over the years. When I felt Mor tremble, I thought of what it would feel like to sink my hands into his throat and pull it out. Rhys and Kier talked to Eris. Their words flowed in one ear and clean out the other, not finding purchase. Between Mor trying to keep from shaking next to me, to the feeling of that golden string that I kept pulling against, I was exhausted. Mentally and psychically.

Something warm snuck along my stomach, fanning my whole body. I felt myself sag ever so slightly. I couldn’t place where the feeling came from but it made my skin prickle and my heart sped up. I tried to look at Azriel but he was pointedly looking everywhere but me. Eyes unsteady, fluttering between our group. Sinking in the words that my brother was speaking. He must not have felt anything because how else could he be so composed right now. I was practically vibrating next to Mor and if it wasn’t for our current situation, I know she would have called me out on it.

“Not good enough.” Kier’s head snaps to Rhys. “ I want something else in return.” My eyes widened as I realized what exactly it was that he was asking for.

“No.” Mor bites out. “Rhys you can’t seriously be considering-”

“You do this on my terms. One week. And you are only allowed in my house. You will not step foot outside, you will not interact with any of my people. If you can agree to those terms then we have a deal.”

“Rhys. Please.” And it’s the closest to begging I’ve ever heard from Mor. Rhys ignores her pleading and I want to throttle my brother right there. He nods his head.

“I also need the Ouroboros Mirror.”

Kier laughed at her words. Even I raised an eyebrow.

“It’s yours if you are brave enough to look into it. Oh did you not know?” Kier laughed again. “You have to look into the mirror to take it and anyone who has looked into it has gone insane.”

Feyre paled at his words and said no more on the subject.

“Have you lost your damn mind?” I was screaming in my head. I was immediately met with Rhys slamming his mental walls shut. I knew I wasn’t the only one that was screaming at him. I sensed the way she had tensed up and I wanted nothing more than to kick the red head clean across the room.

The meeting seemed to be finally over. Rhys didn’t so much as say a goodbye before we were winnowing back to Velaris.

“How could you?” Those Were the first words anyone spoke when we returned. “How could you work with him? Of all the people in this damn world you picked him?” She was livid, voice trembling with anger and a shrill sadness. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around her when I saw the tears spring in her eyes. “And Velaris? You want to let them come here? To my home.”

“If I had told you you wouldn’t have agreed and I needed us all to be there. I needed this to work.”

“You still should have warned her.” I grumbled to my brother. Not the least bit happy with him either. He gave me a shut up look and I didn’t back down. “You wouldn’t have just invited Tamlin to a meeting. Why is Eris any different?”

“It;s different because we need him.”

“It’s different because you said so.” He growled at my words, at the venom dripping from my words. At the challenge laced in them. I had opened my mouth to speak when I saw the shadows wrap around Rhys’ ankles. A flurry like I had never seen. Rhys stepped out of them, swatting them away like they were nothing more than a fly buzzing around his head, but they lingered.

“Azriel. Stop.” Rhys commanded. A sign of how annoyed he was. Azriel did not call his shadows back, instead he stared down my brother. A small snarl forming on his lips.

“Az…” And no sooner did his name leave my mouth did his shadows retract. Instead of going back to him, they swirled around my feet. Laying there leaving my feet with their slightly cold feeling.

“The next time you do something like that, I will kill you.” Mor spit at Rhys before she stormed off.

“You got us what we needed, Rhys, I won’t deny that. But at what cost?” Is all I say before I take off after Mor.

She’s curled up in the middle of her bed. I don’t hesitate to climb in behind her and wrap an arm around her. She’s muttering to herself. I run my hand over her hair, trying my best to comfort her. I don’t even have words to say to her. It might have been centuries since she’s seen Eris but those wounds run deep. Deep enough to destroy the confident female that she has always been.

I stay with her until she falls asleep. And even then I stay until I’m sure she won’t wake up screaming. Eventually I deem it safe and peel myself off of her, careful not to jostle her.

I sneak back to my room. Exhaustion sinking into my bones as I crossed the hallway to my room.

I was so tired it was no surprise that I didn’t see him before I was slamming into his chest.

Strong hands wrap around the tops of my arms to stop me from toppling backwards.

“Whoa there.” Azriel says as he steadies me. I tense as I hear his voice and he lets me go, taking a step away from me. I can’t look him in the eye.

“Is she okay?” It’s obvious who he’s talking about.

“She’s rattled for sure. But she’s asleep and I think that’s the best we can hope for.”

He nodded and I keep my gaze fixed above his shoulder.

“That’s good.” His voice is tight. The words clipped. It is borderline painful to be this close to him. My skin feels itchy and all of my nerves seem to be focused on the spot his hands were just on me.

“Azriel…” I start and he shakes his head.

“Not tonight. Please.”

“You know?” My shock rocks me to my core. I finally gather the courage to look at his face and I see nothing. No emotion.

“I’ve known for a long time..” His rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. One of his nervous ticks. I didn’t think it was possible for my heart to break even more. He knew.

“How…how long…?” My voice breaks

“Long before you went under the mountain.” And he didn’t tell me. Didn’t tell me because he didn’t want me. I feel hot tears slide down my face. I don’t have anything to say. What could I say? Plead for him to love me when he doesn’t? He starts to walk away, taking the warmth of his presence with him. I reach blindly for his arm. My hand wraps around his toned forearm.

“I’ll get over you, I promise. These feelings, they can just be temporary- with everything happening around us. I just… Please don’t leave me.” The grief that gripped my heart was enough to knock the wind out of me. The idea of losing him because of this stupid feeling in my chest. When I looked at him there was no disgust in his face, no loathing or anything that I had expected. He just stared at me blankly.

“Stop. I can’t… Just please, stop.” His voice was tight, breathing heavy.

“Azriel.”

“I can’t do this.”

My heart sank to my stomach. “Do what?”

“Talk to you about this. Talk about us. I prayed you would never feel the bond.”

It was like he had stabbed me with the blade at his side. I think I would have preferred it over the echoing numbness that coursed through me. He didn’t want me. All those touches and all this time, had I misread the signals that much. But I felt it, that little hint of deceit down the bond. The way his shadows wrapped around my feet, around my shoulders. Comforting me.

“We can talk about this, we don’t have to jump into anything. We can take out time-”

“No.” He all but shouted at me. He was breathing heavily, I could feel his exhales brush across my face.

“Please. Why wont you talk to me?” My voice broke, tears welling in my eyes. I couldn’t look at him, look at the way his face just dropped. We stood in silence, my words ringing around the room.

He didn’t try to hide the sob that left his mouth. “I’m terrified” My eyes snapped to him as he took my face gently between his hands. “You were taken away from me once. It nearly killed me then, but now, I know it would. And I know you’re more than capable of protecting yourself but if something were to happen to you because of me…” he trailed off, voice breaking at the thought.

“Azriel,” I looked him deep in his hazel eyes. “I’m the High Lord's sister. I’ve been trying to outrun Tamlin for over a hundred years. You forget that I lost you once too.” I finally met his eyes, his own tears echoing mine. “I have loved you since I knew what that word meant. Please don’t run away from me. Not from this.”

“You can’t mean that.” He whispered. I felt everything like a tidal wave. The rush of shame, the denial, the self loathing.

I didn’t respond right away, instead I took his hands in mine and placed feather soft kisses onto the scarred skin. “I mean it with every cell in my body. Every part of me is yours, Azriel. I’ve always been yours. Even before I felt the bond. It was always going to be you.” And as I placed kiss after kiss on his hand, I felt the sobs leave his body. Felt his wings wrap around me, securing us in our own little moment of time. I looked up at him, seeing this beautiful man with his soul laid out for me to see and knew that there was nothing I wouldn’t do for him. Nothing I wouldn’t risk if it meant I got to see those Hazel eyes looking at me that way. “Kiss me?” I whispered, almost pleading.

“I won’t be able to stop if I do.” He closed his eyes and I used my hold on his hands to pull him down to me.

“I don’t want you to. I want my beautiful mate to kiss me right here and right now.” It was like the world moved in slow motion as he leaned down to connect our lips. And it felt like every moment leading up to this had been in black and white. The world erupts into color for the first time as his lips touch mine. It wasn’t like the desperate kiss in the court of nightmares. This was his own personal love letter. And he had spent all of his life writing it. I thought I had spent my life waiting for that first kiss. But this kiss, this moment, was exactly what it had all been leading to. Time slowed down around me. Not caring about anything but the male in front of me and I let the rest of the world fade away. Wars and powers and horrible nightmares be damned. All I needed was the one thing standing in front of me. And I would be damned before I ever let someone take that away from me.

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pit-and-the-pen · 1 month ago

Text

Eight | Sanctuary in Starlight | Shadow and Flame

Pairing - Azriel x reader

Word count - 3.2k

Warnings - Mentions of parental abuse, slight angst

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Walking around Velaris felt like stepping through a painting, each breath laced with lilac-sweet air, each cobbled path glowing under soft starlight.

The city pulsed with magic, beauty, and most of all... peace.

Peace I had never known before. Peace I hadn't earned, but Azriel was determined to give me anyway.

At eight months pregnant, there was no disguising it anymore. My belly was round and aching and undeniably full of life.

The glamour I wore while walking the streets of Velaris was less for vanity now and more for security, an invisible veil Azriel had woven with his own shadows, just in case. But among the Night Court's inner circle—my circle now, there was no need to hide.

Still, I felt the weight of their eyes sometimes.

Rhysand and Cassian had been... complicated. And understandably so.

They didn't say it aloud, but I could feel the judgment in the early days, the wary tension every time I entered a room.

I couldn't blame them, not when my blood tied me to Beron. Not when the scent of Autumn had once meant danger to everything they held dear.

But time has a way of softening even the sharpest edges.

Cassian had thawed first. Probably because he couldn't resist a sparring partner, even one whose sparring days were long behind her thanks to swollen ankles and a constantly shifting centre of gravity.

Rhysand had taken longer. He watched me like he might need to shield his family from me at any moment, like trusting me was a luxury he couldn't afford. But slowly, he came around.

Maybe it was the baby, his niece or nephew. Maybe it was the way Azriel had changed, softened in my presence.

Or maybe... it was the way I'd changed too.

These days, I mostly saw Madja, the Night Court's legendary healer. Criva still sent notes, still kept up her research into the complications but Velaris had become home.

Madja confirmed what Criva had warned, the baby's wings were developing beautifully. Dangerously. Too large for a body that wasn't made to bear them.

Azriel and I had agreed, if we reached month nine without a solution, we'd go to Helion. If anyone could help, it was him. But for now, we were still trying. Still hoping.

And I was still pregnant. Still tired. Still hungry. Always, always hungry.

Which is how I ended up on a stool in the middle of the townhouse kitchen, trying to reach a jar of pickles tucked cruelly out of reach on the top shelf.

"Mother above, do you have a death wish?" a voice boomed, and I yelped, my fingers brushing the glass just enough to send it tumbling.

Strong arms caught me before I could even think to panic, lifting me down like I weighed nothing at all. I looked up to see Cassian frowning, one giant hand braced around my waist, the other steadying the stool.

"No, I believe you don't," he muttered, setting me on the ground. "But Az would absolutely kill me if anything happened to you on my watch."

I blinked. "Your watch?"

He rolled his eyes, manoeuvring me away from the mess. "Yes. My watch. We're on a schedule, princess. Don't act surprised. It's no secret my brother has lost his damn mind."

"He's not that bad," I grumbled, eyeing the broken glass on the floor. "I just wanted my pickles."

"No pickles," he said, brushing me off like I was made of glass.

"But I—" My voice cracked.

Cassian turned, eyes widening. "Oh, no. No, no, no—don't cry."

It was too late. Tears spilt from my eyes, sudden and hot, as my shoulders began to shake. The sound that came out of me was somewhere between a hiccup and a sob.

Cassian looked horrified. And of course, that was when Rhysand walked in.

"You made her cry?" the High Lord asked, voice filled with outrage.

"I didn't!" Cassian shrieked, rubbing my arms like that might fix me. "She just—she started!"

"He took my pickles," I whimpered, turning those watery eyes on Rhysand.

His violet gaze flicked between us, and I could see it, the barely restrained amusement. I wasn't even offended. I'd laugh too if I didn't feel like I was about to burst into tears every five minutes.

"Cass," Rhysand said slowly, "why would you take her pickles?"

"I didn't take them! I was trying to stop her from climbing a death trap for a snack!"

"Pickles are not just a snack," I snapped, and then hiccupped again.

Rhysand reached over and plucked a new jar of pickles from the pantry, putting it directly into my hands.

"I believe this is what we call diplomacy," he said smoothly.

I sniffled, clutching the jar like a sacred relic. "Thank you, Rhys."

Cassian muttered something about dramatics and stalked off to get a broom.

Rhysand only smiled gently and brushed a knuckle down my cheek. "We'll keep you safe, you know."

"I know," I said, voice catching.

The kitchen smelled faintly of cinnamon and lemon, the scent of safety and domestic calm. But the illusion shattered the moment Azriel strode in, shadows licking at his heels like hounds bracing for blood.

His eyes cut sharply through the room, landing on the broken glass scattered across the floor.

"Why are you surrounded by broken glass?" His voice was low but sharp, the threat not aimed at me but at whatever had caused the mess.

I didn't even flinch.

"Ask your High Lord," I said, thumbing toward Rhysand, who stood at the counter looking far too regal for someone who'd just gotten blamed for shattering a pregnant female's craving.

"It wasn't me," Rhysand drawled with a tired sigh. "She climbed the stool on her own."

"Your niece or nephew says otherwise," I muttered, resting a palm over the prominent swell of my belly.

Cassian chuckled under his breath, broom in hand, but Azriel didn't smile. His eyes didn't even flicker with amusement. Something was wrong.

"We'll deal with that later," he said. And the way he said it... I knew.

I set the jar down slowly. "What is it?"

Cassian stiffened sensing the shift before a word was spoken.

Azriel's shadows curled tighter, as if trying to shield me. "My spies have confirmed it. Beron knows you're here."

The words hit like a cold wind.

I blinked. "How... how does he know?" My hand went instinctively to my stomach, a weak, protective gesture that did nothing to slow the rising dread.

Azriel shook his head, guilt written in the tight line of his mouth. "We don't know how much he knows. Not yet. But he's angry. And he's not being quiet about it."

"And the baby?" My voice barely made it past my lips. "Does he know about the baby?"

Azriel's throat worked around the answer. "Not as far as we can tell."

I nodded slowly, but inside, my panic had already begun to spread. "He won't stop, Az. You know that. He will hunt me to the ends of Prythian just to drag me back."

"Then let him try," Azriel growled, stepping closer. "Let him try, and I will show him what fear tastes like."

There was a truth to his promise that made even Rhysand go still.

Our relationship, whatever fragile, blooming thing it had become wasn't just about a child anymore. Azriel wasn't shielding me out of obligation. The way he looked at me now was raw. Real. Unshakable.

This was him, his soul, his heart, laid bare and violent for me.

"You've changed things by seeking sanctuary," Rhysand finally said. His tone was calm, but behind it, the High Lord loomed. "You've forced our hand. The other courts will hear of this soon. This won't be a private matter for much longer."

"I didn't ask for sanctuary," I said, trying not to let my voice waver. "I asked for a safe place to raise my child."

Rhysand's violet eyes met mine. "And that's exactly why they will see it as a threat. Because you didn't just run—you defied a High Lord. And your father sees that as treason."

Cassian snorted, arms crossed. "Your father's a monster. He doesn't get a vote."

"I know him better than any of you," I said, my voice low. "You can't understand what he'll do when he feels cornered."

"I don't care what he'll do," Azriel said, deadly soft. "You're not going back. Ever."

I opened my mouth to say something but the baby shifted, and the jab that followed was so sharp, I let out a soft cry and bent double.

Azriel was there before I could blink. His hands steadied me, one pressed against my lower back, the other gripping my shoulder like he could anchor me to the earth.

"What is it?" he said, panic etched into every syllable. "Is it happening? Are you—?"

"No, no," I panted, exhaling slowly through clenched teeth. "Just a kick. A really, really bad one."

Azriel still didn't move his hands, didn't stop watching my every breath like he was ready to go to war if I winced again.

Cassian, meanwhile, groaned and clutched his chest. "For the love of the Mother, I thought we were under attack."

I couldn't help it, I laughed, short and tired and real. "Your niece or nephew is practising their combat form on my organs."

Cassian knelt, placing a massive hand on my belly. "Hey, tiny terror, maybe save that for training when you're actually born?"

"Talking to my stomach again?" I teased.

"It listens better than you," he shot back with a wink.

"Let the baby bond with their favourite uncle," he added shamelessly smug.

"Like hell you are," Rhysand muttered, shoving him with his boot until Cassian flopped backwards onto the floor.

I rolled my eyes and leaned back against the counter, letting out a long breath. Without thinking, I set the pickle jar on top of the round swell of my belly. It balanced surprisingly well.

Cassian blinked. "Are you seriously using your stomach as a table?"

"It's convenient," I said with a shrug, grabbing a pickle and munching on it. "Built-in shelf."

He gawked, then snatched the jar away like I'd just set it on something sacred. "Don't use our baby as a table."

I arched a brow. "Our baby?"

Cassian didn't miss a beat. "Yeah."

I blinked. "As far as I'm aware, you didn't impregnate me."

He smirked, infuriatingly smug. "You'd remember if I did, darling."

That was when one of Azriel's shadows slithered out and smacked Cassian clean across the back of the head.

He yelped, almost dropping the jar. "Hey!"

Azriel didn't even look up from where he was still holding me steady.

"Serves you right," Rhysand drawled from behind the counter, his voice the picture of smug amusement. "And for the record, you are absolutely not the favourite uncle."

Cassian narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me?"

As the two began bickering like overgrown children, Azriel gently turned me, guiding me from the mess and pressing a kiss into my temple.

His hands were warm as they slipped around me, one resting protectively over my belly. "I've got you," he whispered, brushing a kiss over my lips, gentle and grounding. "I've got both of you."

"I know," I whispered back, resting my forehead to his, letting the warmth of him seep into the places still frozen from Beron's reach.

I had already survived one court of fire. And I would not burn again.

Later that night with my feet propped comfortably on Azriel's lap, I let out a satisfied sigh as he continued rubbing slow, expert circles into my ankles. My body ached in places I didn't know existed before pregnancy, but the small comforts helped.

Across the room, Cassian and Rhysand were at it again, bickering like children over who the baby's favourite uncle would be.

"You can't buy their love," Cassian snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at Rhysand as if he'd committed a crime. "You think you can just toss a few diamonds and miniature flying ponies at them and win?"

Rhysand scoffed, lounging with predatory grace in an armchair that looked far too fine for his attitude. "Yes, thank you very much."

"You're pathetic," Cassian muttered, folding his arms. "Nepotism at its worst."

I smothered a laugh behind my hand. Azriel's fingers paused on my foot just long enough to glance at me with amusement in his shadows.

For a moment, all was well. Peaceful, even. Then a ripple of energy cracked through the room.

A winnow—unannounced.

We all sat up in an instant. Azriel's shadows leapt toward me as he moved to stand but then I saw him.

That familiar auburn hair, burning like autumn leaves caught in sunlight. And those eyes, clever, golden, lined with exhaustion I recognised far too well.

"Eris," I breathed, my voice catching in my throat.

I moved to stand, awkwardly manoeuvring the weight of eight months of pregnancy, until Azriel was beside me, steadying me with a hand on my elbow.

Eris blinked once. "You're huge."

I gaped at him, stunned. "I'm pregnant, you asshole."

A bark of laughter escaped Cassian. Rhysand raised an eyebrow.

Eris smirked, unfazed, and I shoved him in the chest lightly before wrapping my arms around him. He returned the embrace, one hand cautious at my back.

"Yes, that's what I meant," he muttered into my shoulder.

When we pulled apart, I cupped his face in my hands. His skin was colder than I remembered, paler. A fresh bruise bloomed at his jaw, half-hidden beneath that infuriatingly perfect hair.

"Mother above," I whispered, fingers brushing the discoloured skin.

He pulled away, jaw tightening. "Don't." His voice cracked. "I'm fine."

But we both knew it was a lie.

He stood stiffly beneath the weight of the three males watching him like a predator in foreign territory. The Eris they knew, or thought they knew was ruthless. Poison-tongued and loyal to a monster. Not this version, quiet, worn, and still fighting the war behind his eyes.

"I'm sorry," I murmured. The guilt in me was immediate and overwhelming. "You shouldn't have had to deal with him alone."

Eris gave me a look that said don't start. He stepped in before I could spiral.

"Stop," he said sharply. And when I opened my mouth again, his hand rose and lightly covered it. "I didn't come for that."

I blinked at him, caught off guard and he let his hand drop.

"So," I said with a forced brightness, trying to ease the tension curling in the corners of the room, "you missed me."

He exhaled through his nose, lips twitching. "Unfortunately."

I tugged him toward the couch. "Come sit before you collapse where you stand."

Eris glanced at Azriel, who hadn't stopped watching him. Then at Rhysand, who leaned back with the eerie grace of a ruler ready to strike. Cassian didn't even pretend to like him.

"Continue your fight," I snapped at them. "Don't mind us."

Reluctantly, Eris sat beside me. His posture was tight, wary. Like he wasn't sure if this was a trap. But his eyes kept drifting toward my stomach, round and impossible to ignore beneath the soft stretch of my dress.

"The last time I saw you," he said slowly, "you were barely showing."

"Well," I smiled, "they grow fast when you're being kicked from the inside out."

"Do they..." He trailed off, awkward for the first time in his life.

"Want to feel?" I asked, already reaching for his hand.

Eris hesitated but didn't pull away. His fingers were cooler than Azriel's, more callused than I remembered. I guided his hand to the top of my stomach, where I could feel fluttering movement beneath my skin.

A soft gasp escaped him. The baby kicked again, gentle but firm and Eris stilled entirely.

"Oh," he breathed. His eyes widened with something I hadn't expected to see there—wonder.

A different kind of silence filled the room, heavier but not hostile. I watched him feel the presence of a life untouched by our court's cruelty, a life born of something raw and real and finally free of Autumn's rot.

I gave him a moment. He needed it.

When he finally looked up, his face was unreadable again, his walls slotting back into place like a well-worn shield. But I still saw it, the crack that remained.

And then I asked, softly, "What's happening with Beron?"

Eris froze. His hand slipped from my stomach, settling stiffly in his lap. His eyes, once filled with reluctant tenderness, darkened instantly.

"We don't need to discuss that," he said, too quickly.

"Yes, we do," I insisted, shifting in my seat. Azriel's hand found the small of my back instantly, steadying me. "Eris, I need to know what's happening back there."

Eris gave me a hard look, the type that used to silence entire war rooms. But I didn't back down. I wasn't that girl.

"He's angry," Eris said finally, voice low. "Furious. You embarrassed him. You left. And now you're not only living, but thriving—in his eyes, flaunting your defiance in the arms of a male from the Night Court."

Azriel tensed beside me, so sharply I could feel the change in the air pressure. His shadows curled tighter around my shoulders, protective and cold.

Eris looked at him. Then at Rhysand and Cassian, who had both gone deathly still. The playful chaos from earlier was gone, replaced by razor-sharp silence.

"Let him come," Azriel said, voice like carved stone. "Let him try."

"I'm not saying this to scare you," Eris added, gaze flicking back to me. "But you need to understand—he's not just angry. He's obsessed. You made him look weak. And Beron never forgets that."

I swallowed against the rising guilt in my throat. My hands drifted instinctively to my belly.

"Maybe... maybe I can talk to him," I said quietly, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "Maybe if I just—"

"No." Azriel's voice cut through the room like a blade. He turned to me, brows drawn in a rare show of open emotion. "Absolutely not."

"You don't know him like I do," I whispered. "He doesn't let things go."

Azriel leaned in closer, his fingers brushing mine. "I don't need to know him. I know what he's done to you. I know the bruises he left on your spirit. I know the fear you carry in your sleep."

My chest tightened, but I didn't look away.

"I can handle him," Eris said then, more quietly. "Let me deal with our father."

Something flickered in his eyes—resolve wrapped in weariness. He knew what that meant. What it might cost. But he offered it anyway.

I hated that. Hated the guilt that clawed its way up my spine.

"You shouldn't have to," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I left. I escaped. And I left you behind to deal with him alone."

Eris didn't answer immediately. He looked at me—really looked and said, "You survived. That's what matters."

He didn't say you were worth it, but I heard it in the way his eyes softened just slightly. In the way he straightened his shoulders, as if bearing the weight of Beron's fury was simply the cost of protecting what little good still existed between us.

"I should've taken you with me," I whispered.

"Someone had to stay behind and set fire to the curtains." he said, shrugging.

Despite the tightness in my throat, I let out a huff of laughter. Cassian groaned from across the room. But even the humour didn't mask the tension lingering between us all.

Rhysand finally spoke, his voice measured but grim. "If Beron moves against us, we will respond. He's threatening a child of the Night Court."

Eris glanced around the room, nodding slowly. "Then you'd better be ready."

Azriel's hand tightened around mine. I leaned against him as exhaustion began to creep in, not from the conversation, but from the weight of what it all meant.

Still, I looked at Eris, quiet and battered and too brave for his own good. "Thank you. For coming."

He inclined his head, a rare softness in his eyes. "Keep your strength, little flame. You'll need it."

And I would. For what was coming. For the war we hadn't yet named.

But in that moment, surrounded by fire and shadow, by broken males still trying to love and protect and rebuild—I knew one thing with certainty.

I wasn't facing it alone.

A/n - After seven straight parts of pure angst, this is the least I could do—cue the Batboys being overprotective and funnyyy :)

And then I went and spoiled the mood by sprinkling in a bit of Beron threatening reader's entire existence... sorry!

We're almost at the end of the story so thank you so much for sticking by so far <33

Shadow and Flame tag list - @coffeebooksrain18 @jaybbygrl @slut4acotar @justtryingtosurvive02 @mortqlprojections @sheblogs @moonlitlavenders @windblownwinston @queenoffeysand @tothestarsandwhateverend @saamanthaag3 @metaphysicaldoom @natalijassav @bookishbishhh @yourenothingbutnottome @holb32 @etsukomoonbeam @fxckmiup @i-am-infinite @megwan @cuethedepession @rinalsworld @whoreforfictionalmen18 @asahinasstuff @lilah-asteria @smol-grandpa @shinyghosteclipse @rachelnicolee @shellsarepretty @jugodeshadowsinger @landofpetrichor @sunnyspycat @pit-and-the-pen @obscure-beauty @casiiopea2 @quiettuba @thiswildandpreciouslife

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pit-and-the-pen · 2 months ago

Text

“Mor led me down the avenue toward another set of stone gates, thrown open at the base of what looked to be a castle within the mountain. The official seat of the High Lord of the Night Court.”✨🌙

Welcome to Hewn City

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pit-and-the-pen · 2 months ago

Note

Pretty pretty please can you write some azris x fem reader smutty angst forced proximity goodness! Azris can be established pair and then they meet reader who initially they all don’t get along buttttt they are obsesssed with her then BOOM TRIAD BOND ANGSTY PERFECTIONNNNN 🥵🥵🥵

A Missing Piece

Pairing: Azris x Reader

Summary: Eris, in a secret relationship with Azriel, seeks you out and marries you in order not to raise suspicions from his father. What happens when Autumn's High Lord discovers the truth?

WC: 2.2k words

Warnings: Angst, injuries, mention of blood, jealousy (kinda?), Eris being married but having a lover on the side (it's not cheating, not really. It's known. It's more like an arrangement), hurt/comfort

Dividers made by @tsunami-of-tears 💕

“Eris!”

You could remember as if it was yesterday, the day a winged figured male had burst through the doors of the forest house, carrying Eris—bruised and bloodied—into his arms.

“He's my mate,” Eris rasped, before going uncouncious in the Illyrian's arms.

That was the day Beron had set a trap to Eris, having discovered his son's trickery and deciding to take matters into his own hands. He hadn't planned that Azriel and Eris would be seeing each other in Dún Èideann—Autumn's capital state—that night, despite the storm raging. Eris had only been ordered to scout for rebels, and Beron had been waiting for him instead, plotting his son's murder.

Later, you had found out that some servants had overheard you and Eris one night, talking about the reason you had gotten married in the first place.

You and Eris had been friends since your youth. You had always known the pressure Beron was putting on his son to find a wife, and one day, when you had questioned Eris on his hesitancy, he had confessed that he was seeing someone already, someone whom he couldn't be with, not publicly. So you had offered him your hand, making an oath to keep his secret, in exchange of being saved from getting married to some random horrible male.

You had never expected Eris to be so kind to you throughout the years following the wedding. He had been nothing but honest about his whereabouts, though never quite entering the details about this mysterious person he was seeing. A bond forged on trust and respect had grown between the two of you, holding you together like strong and wild vines. You had found a friend in him, a partner, and he in you as well.

Your first meeting with Azriel had been frantic, hurried, trying to save Eris from dying in his arms. You had led him to the healing quarters, and coaxed him into dropping Eris down to a cot to let the healers work on him.

Through it all, their hands had remained joined. Azriel barely blinked, even as the healers were done tending to Eris' wounds, assuring them that he would live. He had stayed by Eris' side, some strange sort of shadows seeming to seep out of his body.

You had stayed awkwardly, caring for Eris' well being, and curious about this mysterious winged male—quite handsome male, you must admit—sitting by his side.

“Eris told me about you,” you said, finally breaking the silence. Azriel shot you a menacing glare, his eyes as sharp as the dagger tied to his hip. “I'm glad he has you.”

Something shifted in his demeanor then, as if you had managed to slip through a crack in the thick armor he was wearing to protect himself.

“What's your name?”

The male sitting beside Eris bed tensed, his wings twitching discreetly as he seemed to ponder whether he should answer your question or not.

“Azriel,” He answered, his voice deep and smooth like silk. He broke eye contact with you then, looking back down at Eris’ unconscious form.

Sensing that this discussion wouldn't go further tonight, you had risen from where you sat, Eris’ mattress regaining his form. “Tell the healers to come and warn me when he'll wake up, please.” You smiled politely, watching him offer you a curt nod as an answer, then you left the two of them alone, offering some much earned privacy.

Eris woke up days later. His face was pale—paler than usual—and his cheeks were hollowed, his bones showing up more from the carence in nutrients his body had gone through.

Azriel had told the healers to come and get you, as per your request. Relief flooded over you at seeing Eris awake. You were glad he had made it through.

You had stayed in the shadows, lingering by the infirmary door. You had observed the two males, watching how they interacted with each other. Eris and Azriel were like stars and planets, orbiting around the other, meant to be.

Something had stirred in your chest at the sight of it. It wasn't jealousy, no. Not exactly. More like resiliation, and the itching desire to belong there, too. The thought of being a part of it, of them, startled you at first. You had never thought possible for you to desire something like that before, of wanting two males all at once.

Before you could make sense of the turmoil of emotions brewing in your chest, Eris' voice called your name.

“Y/N…”

Soft, almost weak. Still raspy from not using his voice in days. It made your heart jump slightly, but you quickly tucked it away. Eris had never chosen you, he had made it clear from the start, and you had both agreed. But they did. And you knew you had to make your mind with it, because you respected Eris, and wanted his happiness more than anything in this world.

“I'm glad you're awake,” You fidgeted with your sleeves, the lacework feeling nice and grounding between your fingers tips.

You turned your face to Azriel, “I wanted to thank you, Azriel. For saving my… husband. For saving Eris.” You felt his gaze fall on your hands. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, you stopped your fidgeting, trying to look more confident. “Please, feel free to stay at the Forest House for as long as you need. I'll make sure not to interfere between you two.”

You saw Eris' face drop, and guilt twisting his features. Before he could open his mouth and try to make you feel better, you raised your hand and shook your head.

“It's… It's okay, Eris. Well… I guess. You had made it clear from the very beginning that someone else—Azriel had your heart. I just… I need time, please.”

He tried to sit up in bed, Azriel quickly assisted him as Eris’ face contorted in pain. “Y/N, please. Let me explain-”

“There's nothing to explain, Eris.” You smiled softly at him, taking a step back, moving toward the corridor. “Rest. Give me time. You don't have to feel bad about anything. It's okay,” You turned around, took a deep shaky sigh. “We may talk about it later, if you wish. But not now, please.”

Eris didn't answer, didn't call you back, only watched you leave. Your footsteps echoed in the House as you walked away, leaving the two lovers together, as it should.

Azriel, surprisingly, had stayed. You weren’t sure where Eris slept at night, since you had spent the past nights alone, in your bed. Your guess was that he had been sleeping in the Illyrian’s bed. But knowing Eris and his self-sabotaging tendencies, perhaps he had resolved to sleeping alone in the infirmary.

Weeks went by, and you found Azriel’s presence in the forest house not as uncomfortable as you would have thought. You didn’t hate him for being Eris’ lover, nor did he seem to resent you for taking an important place for such a long time in Eris’ life while he had to stay in the shadows.

Eventually, once the tension had seemed to fade and you had stopped avoiding Eris like the plague, you three had fallen into some kind of routine.

The three of you would share breakfast together. The table was quiet at first, none of you dared to speak. The atmosphere in the room was frigid, but it warmed up, eventually.

You had been the first to break the ice, asking Azriel about his life, passions, occupation. You had learned that he worked for the Night Court’ High Lord. His brother, he called him, but not by blood, by choice.

You hadn’t managed to inquire about his blood family. It seemed to be a sensitive cord for him, much like it was for Eris. So you respected that, and moved on to something lighter.

Eris had to go through physical therapy in the afternoon. The blow his father had thrown his way before Azriel could interfere had left damages, even on his Fae body. Now, he needed to walk with a crutch. Eris used it with grace, though, not showing one ounce of weakness. You had witnessed Azriel needing to discreetly make him slow down and rest a few times.

One time, when Eris had been out with the healer for his therapy, you had offered Azriel to have tea with you.

That, too, soon became part of your daily routine.

Throughout the passing weeks, which then stretched into a whole month, the three of you had sort of settled into a domestic tranquility.

The flicker of guilt and unsaid things between you and Eris was still palpable, though. Until one night, he decided that things needed to change.

After one quick exchange with Azriel, the shadowsinger was on his feet.

“I feel like I have overstayed my welcome, Lady Y/N. My High Lord needs me around, so. I shall thank you, really, for your hospitality.”

“Oh! Well, you’re welcome to come back and stay for as long as you wish, Azriel, really. This house is probably more yours than mine anyway, as you are technically Eris’ partner while I’m just, well… me.”

The silence fell upon the room, only the sound of your utensils scraping your plate as you moved the food around echoing.

“Y/N…”

“Eris,” You cut him quickly while your shoulders curved inward. “It’s fine, really.”

“I… I will leave, now,” Azriel quickly said, then walked out of the room. He stopped by Eris momentarily, though, giving his shoulder a soft squeeze and placing a silent kiss to the top of his head.

The moment Azriel had walked out of the room, Eris tried again.

“Y/N, darling, we need to talk-”

“No, Eris. We really don’t.” You snorted, shaking your head as you tried to hide the tears forming in your eyes. “You need to let me go, Eris. It’s fine, really. I was planning to move out soon, anyway.”

“I can’t,” his voice shook, “Y/N, darling, I can't. I need you by my side.”

“What you ask is not fair, Eris. Not for me, nor you, and definitely not for Azriel.” You snapped, staring straight into his copper eyes as you spoke.

“He needs you too, Y/N.” He was snarling now, fist clenched tight underneath the table. “Have we not made it obvious enough for you? We both need you, we want you here, in our life,” his breaths were coming in quick and rasped.

“Don’t leave,” he whispered, eyes wet and pleading. “We want you to be part of our life, if you’ll have us.”

He sucked in a breath, then exhaled it shakily. “Both of us,” he added, his face hard, showing no compromise would be possible.

The massive oak clock on your left, behind Eris, ticked as the seconds passed by.

You both looked—truly looked—at each other for the first time in over a month. A silent conversation flittered between the two of you, all the emotions resulting from weeks of repression sparkling like flashes of lightning in a storm.

“Azriel,” you called, finally breaking the silence. “Get back here.”

Azriel, looking all sheepish, reappeared from behind one of the dining room’ alcoves. “I… I didn’t mean to snoop.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms on your chest. You didn’t believe him for one second, and you had known he hadn’t left the room since the very beginning of this conversation.

“Right…” Azriel bit the inside of his cheek, the action making him appear more adorable than it was fair. “What Eris told you… It’s true, all of it.”

“We talked,” he continued. “It’s not a decision we took hastily. We have talked about it. A lot.”

“I… I’m not sure when I decided that this, making you a part of us, would be something I’d want. We just fell into this routine, and everything just seemed to… fit. Like you had always been a part of our life. In some ways, you have, I think. We just didn’t… know it yet.” Azriel smiled softly, then sat on your other side.

His next step shocked you. His hands scooped yours, his skin, scarred and imperfect, held yours. It was the first time Azriel touched you with purpose, and yet, it felt as if he had done this all his life. “I'd like us to try,” he said, his voice talking low and his face open, honest. “I think what’s going on between us three is good. It feels… comfortable. Natural.”

You looked back at Eris with teary eyes, then back at Azriel. There was no trace of hesitation to be found on their face. They were asking you, out of everyone, to be a part of their life. They have bared themself to you, left their heart open and raw, waiting for you to do as you wished with it.

At last, you nodded. “Okay.” You sniffled, squeezing Azriel hands tighter as you turned toward Eris. He was shaking, tears spilling on his freckled cheeks. “I’d like us to try, too.”

Azriel pulled you off your chair and took you in his arms, and you melted. He felt strong, steady, and smelled like night-chilled mist and cedar.

But something was missing.

You extended your hand toward Eris, a soft smile on your lips. “Both of you, Eris,” you reminded him, pulling the guilt off his skin as you reused his words.

Eris broke down, and he started to cry. All the relief washed away from him and escaped his body all at once.

You and Azriel moved, making your way toward Eris, and enveloped him in your warmth.

And just like that—in this mess of emotions and rawness—something beautiful started to bloom between the three of you.

A/N: Thank you for the request! I really enjoyed writing it... smut will be in part two 👀 stay tuned!

ALSO! MASSIVE THANK YOU TO @nocasdatsgay !! Love you lots, thanks for reading through this and giving me your professional throuple advices! Honestly, if you want to read more Azris x Reader fanfictions, go take a look at her page and give her work some well-deserved appreciation. 💕

ACOTAR general taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @acotar-lover @paige0103 @princesssunderworld

Azris taglist: @g00seg1rl @irithiadourden

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pit-and-the-pen · 2 months ago

Text

Matchmaker

Azriel x reader (part 6)

Summary: The girls get ready for a night of dinner and drinks before stepping into Ritas where Y/N and the shadowsinger meet once again.

~~~~~~~

The townhouse buzzed with perfume and the chaotic swirl of dresses being flung from closet to bed. Candles flickered in the corner, their glow bouncing off the gilded mirror where Y/N stood with one hand on her hip, the other gripping a half-empty glass of wine.

She turned slowly, frowning at her reflection in the metallic gold dress she’d pulled on almost as a joke.

“Okay,” she muttered, smoothing it down, “this one might be too much.”

However, before either Selene or Y/N could decide, the front door slammed shut downstairs, followed by footsteps and a loud, “Did someone order a miracle?”

Selene poked her head over the stair rail and grinned. “Perfect timing. Upstairs, now!”

Lalia sauntered into the room a second later, wine bottle in hand and hair curled in effortless waves. She froze when she caught sight of Y/N.

“Oh damn.”

Selene nodded. “Right?”

Y/N huffed, tugging at the hem. “It’s a little... loud.”

“You are the event,” Lalia said, walking around her like an appraiser. “This dress just lets the world know.”

Selene laughed and flopped onto the bed. “That’s exactly what I said. She’s pretending she doesn’t want to look hot.”

“I don’t want to look desperate,” Y/N protested.

“You don’t,” Lalia said firmly.

She then raised a brow and poured herself a glass from the open bottle on the vanity. “So who is the mystery male? This look screams ‘I hope he walks in and chokes on his tongue.’”

Y/N hesitated.

Finally, she glanced at her and said, “Azriel. Do you know him?”

Lalia choked mid-sip.

Selene blinked. “That was fast.”

Lalia cleared her throat, fanning herself. “The Azriel? As in… the Shadowsinger?”

Y/N blinked. “You do know him?”

“I mean, not biblically,” Lalia said, settling into the chair with a mischievous smirk. “But I’ve met him. Once. Twice. A few times.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “And?”

“He’s terrifying, terrifyingly hot,” Lalia said lightly. “And quiet. And sexy in a way that makes me nervous. Shadows always everywhere, jaw so sharp you could use it to cut fabric.”

Selene groaned. “Y/N, you have a type.”

Lalia pointed with her wine glass. “Also, I sew. I notice good tailoring. That male wears knives and shadows like accessories.”

“You sew everything?” Y/N asked, surprised.

Lalia shrugged. “My dad was a stone mason. I used to stitch his clothes back together after work every week. Tore them up hauling bricks, carving marble. I got good at it. Dresses were just... fun. And less bloody.”

Y/N smiled, some of her nerves slipping away. “That’s really sweet.”

Selene grinned. “You are magic girl.”

Lalia raised her glass. “You two make me blush.”

They all laughed.

Y/N turned back to the mirror, letting her hands drift down the golden mesh. It clung perfectly, shimmered.

Maybe she was the event.

~~~

The rooftop restaurant sparkled like a hidden jewel above the streets of Velaris. Golden lights strung overhead bathed the table in warmth. The Sidra shimmered in the distance, and beyond it—the House of Wind loomed against the night sky. They had the perfect view from their table near the edge: Rita’s, buzzing just across the street, its line already stretching down the block.

Y/N sipped a cocktail as she leaned back in her chair, her golden dress catching the light as she crossed her legs.

“Honestly,” Lalia said, stretching out beside her with a drink of her own, “I forgot what it felt like to get dressed up just for the hell of it.”

Selene grinned. “Speak for yourself. I get dressed up to buy bread.”

“You’ve been quiet,” Lalia said, eyeing her over the rim of her glass. “Thinking about your shadowy male?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it.

“I mean, you did pick a dress that could give someone a stroke,” Selene added helpfully.

Y/N laughed. “It’s not about him.”

Lalia raised a brow.

Y/N gave her a look. “Okay, it’s not just about him.”

Selene leaned in. “If he doesn’t try to climb you like a mountain by midnight, he might be broken.”

“Maybe I’m the one who wants to climb,” Y/N muttered, then immediately covered her face.

Selene choked on her drink.

“Finally!” Lalia laughed, fanning herself.

Their conversation then dissolved into the usual chaos—giggling over awkward encounters, rating the outfits of everyone who walked by.

Lalia launched into a story about a healer with a thigh tattoo and terrible taste in poetry.

Then—

A ripple of laughter rose from the street below.

Selene paused mid-sip.

Y/N turned her head casually, like she hadn’t just felt something shift.

There, across the cobbled way—walking toward Rita’s—was the Inner Circle. Mor led the group, Feyre and Rhysand walked behind her, hand in hand, utterly in their own world. Amren glided like a dagger.

And trailing behind, laughing, shoving at Cassian—

Azriel.

Y/N’s breath caught.

He looked…carefree.

Smiling wide as Cassian bumped into him, shadows trailing lazily behind them.

He looked happy.

They watched as the group vanished into Rita’s, swallowed by the red glow of the entrance and the hum of music.

The silence between the girls was brief—and then Selene raised her glass.

“Well,” she said, smirking. “The night is just getting started.”

“To climbing,” Lalia added.

Y/N groaned, but lifted her glass.

“To being the ones they never see coming.”

And they drank—laughing and ready for trouble.

~~~

The rooftop bar had been a dream.

But several drinks later—after shrieking laughter, dramatic posing, and Selene’s endless teasing—they finally stumbled down the spiral stairs and spilled into the press of Velaris’ nightlife.

Rita’s pulsed just across the street. Already packed. Already wild.

The three of them wove through the crowd with the grace only intoxicated women in heels could pull off; and finally made it to the bar, yelling over the music to order drinks—something fruity.

Y/N leaned against the bar, trying to keep her breathing even, her fingers tight around her glass. “This is such a bad idea,” she muttered, cheeks already warm.

Selene grinned, sipping. “You’re only saying that because your favorite brooding male is somewhere in here.”

“I’m not nervous,” Y/N lied.

“You are downing that drink like it’s the only thing keeping you alive,” Lalia added, eyebrow arched.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “It is.”

Selene clinked her glass against hers. “Come on. Let’s dance. Shake the nerves out—pretend he’s not even here.”

They pulled her into the tide of bodies, into the music that rolled and throbbed like a heartbeat.

It started slow. A sway of hips, fingers still clutched around sweating glasses. Then the drinks and the beat did what they were meant to.

Y/N let herself be swept into it.

They twirled again, breathless and glowing. Y/N tipped her head back, hair falling away from her face, caught in the lights. She laughed into the dark, into the pulse of it all.

And for a while, it was enough.

But, eventually her breath caught in her chest, lungs burning, the heat making her dizzy.

“I need a break,” she shouted over the music, touching Selene’s arm.

She slipped through the crowd toward the bar, weaving past couples and laughing strangers, her fingers already reaching for the counter. The bartender spotted her and nodded. She leaned on one elbow, finally catching her breath and scanned the room around her.

Across the room, she spotted the Inner Circle lounging in their booth. Cassian had one boot propped on the seat beside him, animatedly telling a story. Feyre and Rhys were curled together, eyes locked. Mor laughed, head tipped back.

And Azriel.

He sat relaxed against the cushions, one arm draped across the back of the booth, the other resting on his thigh. Shadows curled around him like lazy cats, content and slow, stroking the air with a familiar sort of hunger. He looked so at ease, so effortlessly untouchable—like he belonged in every corner of the room, without even trying.

Y/N’s gaze softened immediately, drawn to him as if by instinct. As if the room had tilted toward him and her feet had merely followed.

Her chest ached with something she didn’t quite have a name for.

Gods, how she wished she were there. Tucked under his arm like Feyre was with Rhys, legs draped across his lap, his chin resting in her hair. She imagined leaning her head back, letting his deep, quiet voice murmur something into her ear. Letting those scarred hands trail up her thigh beneath the table, like they did in quieter moments—moments only they knew.

She swallowed thickly.

Maybe it was time.

Maybe it was time she walked over there. Closed the distance. Claimed what was already hers.

She imagined herself moving toward him now, slipping between the crowded bodies, past the booth, up to where he sat. She’d smile, let him see it in her eyes—that she’d worn this dress for him, that she had waited for him. She’d climb into his lap without hesitation, feel those strong arms wind around her waist, the way they always did. She’d wrap her arms around his neck, press her mouth to the edge of his jaw and whisper—

But the image cracked.

Because her arms wouldn’t be around him.

They couldn’t be.

Because someone was already there.

She hadn’t noticed the woman at first—she blended too well, like she’d always been meant to be part of that table. Elegant and polished. Doe eyes, soft brown curls, a dress that shimmered like gossamer. Her body tilted subtly toward Azriel. And her hand...

Her hand rested lightly on Azriel’s forearm, her body tilted ever so slightly toward his.

It didn’t matter that he wasn’t looking at her. That his expression hadn’t changed. That his shadows hadn’t stirred in recognition the way they always did when he felt Y/N near.

The damage had been done.

Something in Y/N’s chest tightened.

She turned quickly, facing the bar again, pulse suddenly loud in her ears. She wasn’t angry. Not at him. Not really.

But gods, she couldn’t breathe.

The woman had looked like she belonged there. Among them. At home in their world, at ease with their power and their beauty and their knowing smiles.

Y/N gripped the edge of the bar. Her dress felt too tight. Too gold. Too desperate.

You’re not like her. You never have been.

You never will be.

You don’t belong.

That awful, old voice whispered again.

She blinked hard, willing the sting behind her eyes to vanish.

“Can I buy you a drink?” a smooth voice purred beside her.

A tall male—broad-shouldered, handsome in a too-perfect way—leaned against the bar. His skin glowed under the lights, and his smile was sharp with interest.

She blinked. “Sorry, what?”

“You look like you could use one,” he said easily. “Or... maybe just a better distraction.”

She hesitated. Her heart wasn’t in it. Not really. She could still feel Azriel across the room, could still feel that lingering hand on his arm like a splinter in her skin.

But...

This was her night.

Her skin still hummed with music and magic.

And if Azriel wasn’t going to come to her—then he could watch someone else try.

So, she gave the male a small smile, lifting her drink. “I’ve already got one.”

He laughed. “How about a dance, then?”

Y/N glanced once more toward the booth—toward the shadows that she swore twitched the moment she turned her head.

Then she smiled. “Sure.”

She let the fae male take her hand and lead her back to the floor, the music rising again like a tide beneath her feet.

Her gold dress caught the lights once more, turning her into flame.

And she thought—

If anyone was going to fall tonight, it would be him.

~~~

The Inner Circle pushed through the doors, swallowed instantly by the chaos of Rita’s.

Rhysand’s arm was slung over Feyre’s shoulders, his laugh low and warm. Mor pulled Nesta in close while Cassian roared at something only he found funny.

Cassian shoved a drink into Azriel’s hand. “Try not to get too drunk tonight, brother.”

Azriel smirked and elbowed him. “Tell that to yourself.”

They made their way to their usual booth and slid into the cushions. The drinks started flowing. Familiar comfort wrapped around him: Nesta rolling her eyes, Feyre talking with her hands, Mor making them all laugh, Cassian talking shit with a grin on his face.

For awhile, Azriel felt light. Grounded. His shadows curled lazily, content to lounge in the dim light.

And then—

They snapped alert.

His spine stiffened.

A flicker of gold caught his eye. A sway.

He blinked, turning his head just slightly.

There she was.

Y/N.

She moved like sin given form, hips rolling with the beat, dress catching every stray beam of light. Her head was tipped back in laughter, hair a silken veil, arms raised above her head.

Azriel forgot how to breathe.

His shadows surged, tense and eager, reaching for her through the crowd.

His drink stayed in his hand, untouched. Forgotten.

And then—

She turned.

Like she felt it too. That heavy, crackling air. Her eyes met his.

As if time stopped.

She didn’t look surprised. She looked… sinful.

Y/N smirked and raised her glass toward him in a slow, deliberate toast. Only to turn her back on him just as quickly and melt into the music, into waiting hands, into the crowd that swallowed her whole once more.

Azriel sat frozen.

His heart beat louder than the music.

She’s here. Really here.

She smirked.

She fucking toasted him.

Azriel’s mouth curved, part feral, part wrecked.

He watched her disappear into the dancers again, hips rolling to the beat, golden fabric rising with every movement.

And it did something terrible to him.

She’s playing with me.

He downed his drink. Didn’t taste it. Didn’t care.

Elain looked up at him in question.

Cassian elbowed him again, teasing. “What’s got your shadows tied in knots?”

But, Azriel didn’t answer.

Because he already knew where this night was going. He had to let her go in Day, but she was here in his court. In his city, and he was not about to let her get away again.

She had no idea what she’d started.

Azriel didn’t hesitate. He rose from the booth in one smooth motion, ignoring the calls behind him.

He moved through the crowd like smoke, his shadows curling and tugging as if they, too, were desperate to close the distance.

But then—

He saw her again.

Near the edge of the dance floor, her arm draped around a tall male’s shoulders. The fae male was laughing—laughing—his hand dangerously low on her waist, too close to the open slit in her dress.

Azriel’s blood ran hot.

That wasn’t just any arm she had around that male’s neck.

It was his.

That hand on her hip—that belonged to him.

This jealousy. This anger. It appeared out of nowhere.

He stopped, heart thudding violently as the shadows flared outward, reacting to the storm beneath his skin. A few tendrils lashed across the floor, impatient, angry.

The male said something that made her laugh again—too close, too easy.

Azriel’s teeth clenched. His hands curled into fists at his sides.

Mine.

The thought struck so hard it left a ringing in his bones. It had to be the alcohol in him.

She was his. Not in a possessive, selfish way. But in the way souls are forged to fit only one other. In the way, from the moment he met her, he felt a sense of peace. In the way every breath he took felt shallow when she wasn’t beside him.

And someone else thought they could put their hands on her?

No.

Azriel didn’t think.

He moved.

Across the room, through bodies and music and shadowed light, his eyes never left her.

And when he reached her—when her eyes lifted and widened slightly, sensing the shift in air before she even saw him—he didn’t hesitate.

Azriel slipped between them like a blade.

He didn’t look at the male.

Didn’t need to.

His shadows did that for him—curling possessively around Y/N’s legs, her hips, one whispering up her back like it missed her.

His eyes were only for her.

“Mind if I cut in?” he asked, voice low and rough, almost dangerous with the restraint in it. Cauldron, what was wrong with him?

Y/N blinked, lips parting.

Her heart flipped at the way his shadows wrapped around her. At the look in his eyes—dark, wild, desperate.

Jealous.

Y/N opened her mouth to respond—

But she didn’t get the chance.

Azriel didn’t wait.

He tilted his head at the male, cold and deadly.

“I wasn’t asking.”

The smile fell from the male’s face. He stepped back immediately, hands raised slightly, and gave a small smile toward Y/N as he turned and disappeared into the crowd without another word.

Y/N blinked, brows lifting. “That was... dramatic.”

Azriel turned to her then, and his shadows retreated just enough to let his eyes do what they were made for — devour.

He didn’t touch her. Not yet.

She tilted her head, lips curling into a small smile.

“Hello, Shadowsinger.”

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw ticked. His eyes dropped to her mouth, then lower, a slow sweep that sent heat spiraling down her spine.

His voice was barely a breath.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

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pit-and-the-pen · 2 months ago

Text

Caught Red-Handed

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: In which Azriel returns home from a mission and reader is a little too excited to see him, forgetting to keep her noise down.

2.1k words

"I want Dadda to sing to me," My daughter whines as she snuggles deeper into her pillows, the large bed swallowing her small frame whole. I smile at the words, remembering how my mate sang our child into a slumber every night with his melodic tunes, shadows swishing around him as he did so, lulling her to sleep.

"I know my sweet," I sigh, running my hand through her long, pitch-black hair. "When is he gonna be back?" She looks up at me with a growing pout, the toddler seemed to master the art of guilt tripping perfectly.

"Tonight, you'll see him in the morning," I promise and her grin widens. "But how will I ever sleep!" She throws her arms up and I chuckle, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You need your rest or you'll be too tired to play with him in the morning," I advise and she huffs, curling into a ball and cradling her favorite bat stuffed animal to her chest.

"I'll tell you what, if you go to bed now I'll make you pancakes in the morning," I promise, and she shoots up, staring at me with eyes wide as saucers. "Pancakes!" She says excitedly and I nod. "But you've got to go to sleep now," I rule and she flops back down onto her pillows dramatically, clenching her eyes shut in an attempt to feign sleeping.

I smile at her theatrics and lean down, placing a kiss on her temple. "Goodnight Melaina," I whisper against her hair. "Night night, Mama," She murmurs back and I stand from her bed, approach the door, and give her one last look before exiting.

Azriel's been gone for a week. A long, stressful week. I hadn't realized how much he did for me until he was gone. Raising a toddler was much, much harder without him. Rhys had sent him to The Continent to make sure no wars were brewing and that everyone was somewhat at peace with Hybern off of his throne.

I still don't know why my mate was chosen, if Rhys needed to know so bad why didn't he just go? Of course, I knew the High Lord was busy, but still, the touch starve was making me grow bitter.

I was pacing the halls in anticipation for him to return I was so excited. I had been stress-cleaning all day, just to prove to him that everything went fine when he was away, I didn't want him to feel bad for doing his job. Even if some selfish part of me never wanted him to leave my side again.

Melaina hasn't stopped ranting about how excited she was for him to come home and I couldn't help but agree with her, matching the four-year-olds energy when she spoke about her father.

It felt like I stared at the balcony for hours, it was only until I was half asleep that the glass doors slid open. I sprang up like a child on the morning of their birthday, Azriel closed the doors quietly behind him and he barely got the chance to look ahead of him before I tackled the Shadow Singer, clinging to him like a tree as I wrapped my arms and legs around his neck and torso, squeezing his chest to mine. He chuckled and I couldn't believe that I had forgotten the sound of his laugh. I hold him tighter.

"Miss me?" He presumes and I pull away before peppering his face in kisses, his neck, his forehead, the tip of his nose, and just as I was about to place a kiss on his cheek he swerves and plants his lips over mine.

I melt into the familiar feeling of my mate's mouth over mine, I cup his jaw with delicate fingers as they buzz with electricity. "A week is too long," I murmur, loving the way his smile feels against my lips. "I know, Princess," He mutters, head dipping into my shoulder as I cling to him tighter as if I was afraid he might be sent away again.

"How's Laina?" He asks into my shoulder and I grin. "Hopefully asleep," I mutter as he walks us over to the couch, plopping down onto the cushions and leaving me straddling his hips. "She missed you so much," I frown, shifting so I was balanced on one of his thighs. "I missed the both of you," His strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me close. "I'm telling Rhys he's not allowed to send you away for that long again," I rule and he chuckles. "I don't think that's up to you, love," He hums and I roll my eyes. "Stupid High Lord and his stupid assignments,” I grumble beneath my breath, cursing out my own friend.

“You seemed to have managed just fine without me, everything looks the same,” He glanced around the house and I deflated, head dipping into his shoulder. “But everything didn’t feel the same,” I huff dramatically. “I’m so glad you’re back,” I peck up his jaw as a gentle smile blessed his features. “A week is too long, I could barely sleep,” I confess, lifting up and hovering in front of his face, the tip of my nose brushing against his.

“And I’m ovulating,” I hit his chest like it’s his fault. “So that’s why you’re so clingy, hm?” He tilts his head and I flush hot. “Shut up, you were gone, I had to resort to my own hands,” I grumble, burying my head into his shoulder again as he chuckled. “Not funny, I felt like I was single again,” I huff. “It was the worst.”

“You wanna show me how you did it?” He purrs and my cheeks flare red. I sit up on his lap, looking down at him with furrowed brows but he only gives me a reassuring look with encouraging eyes, like he was waiting for me to get myself off on him.

I swallow thickly. “Right now?” I say and he shrugs. “Didn’t you miss me?” He arched a brow and gods, he knew me too well. Knew that I’d been touch starved for an entire week and usually I wasn’t so hyper-sexual but without the usual waist touches or pecks on the cheeks I was manic, and he knew it. Knew he could tell me his dirtiest, darkest fantasy and I’d comply without any hesitation because I needed him.

“C’mon, Princess, I know it’s been a while but you can do it,” He urges and my hands come to his chest as I slowly begin rutting my hips over his, grinding onto his clothed thigh, gaining friction at the place I needed him most.

“Gods I missed you,” He confessed, a slow smile coming to his face as I rolled down onto him. I continue my movements, switching them from hesitant to fluid and languid, grinding down onto him and gasping as he flexes his thigh every now and then.

“Fuck, Az,” I tilt my head back, up to the ceiling, nails digging into his shoulders at the intense feeling, his thigh already getting me farther than my hands ever were able to. “Good,” He says, lips ghosting against the column of my throat. “So good for me, getting off on my thigh,” He hums, fingers digging into my hips as I continue my movements. “Please Az,” I clench my eyes shut. “Please, need all of you,” I beg and he smiles against my neck. “I don’t think you do, I think you can get off without me even touching you,” He croons and I whimper, looking at him with pleading eyes and furrowed brows. He only returned it with a smirk.

I pouted, making a point and pressing myself into his semi-hardened cock. He grunted lowly from the base of his throat and a knot formed in my abdomen at the sound. Moans and pleas filled the room as I begged him for more, for something. We both knew he wasn’t going to give me anything else until I found release and we also both knew I didn’t need anything else.

“Fuck m’close,” I murmur. “Already?” He tilts his head with a demeaning tone and the degradation only pushes me closer to that edge. I nod pitifully. “So needy, aren’t you?” He taunts and I dip my head again, beyond words as I pant heavily, toes curling and nails scratching down his back as I soak my panties in my arousal.

An unearthly sound escapes from the base of my throat as I find release, and it’s his name on my lips when I meet my climax, hand pulling at his hair as I slowly ride out my high, my swaying tapering off.

Then, below the pants and soft whines, I hear a familiar voice that makes the both of us freeze in our tracks.

“Mama?” My daughter calls and I flip off of Azriel in a panic, falling onto the floor with a groan as shadows swish around me, making sure I’m okay.

Our child walks out of the hallway clutching her bat-stuffed animal in her navy nightgown that brushed the floor. “Dadda!” She squealed, running right past me as I struggled to stand back up, and straight to her dad, jumping into his arms with a wide grin.

“Oh, I missed you so much Starlight,” Azriel exclaims, hugging his daughter tight to him, looking down at me with wide eyes as I collect myself.

“I missed you times one hundred!” The toddler argues and Azriel shakes his head. “I missed you times infinity,” Azriel scoffs and she pouts, her wide eyes the color of mine, always making him give in. “Okay fine, we missed each other equally,” He sighs. “But I have a feeling you were supposed to be asleep, isn’t that right?” He narrows her eyes on her as if it was an interrogation and she rolls her eyes.

“Well I was asleep, but then I heard Mama yelling your name and knew you were home!” She excused. “Why were you yelling, Mom?” She turns to me with those curious eyes. “Uh,” I look to Azriel for help but he just stared at me with the same gaze, as if he had no idea. “Cause I was just so excited to see him,” I shrug. “Then why were you on the floor?” She gestures to the ground. “Dad pushed me,” I say, pinning the blame on him. Melaina gasps and whips around to him, her hands cupping over her mouth. Azriel’s hands shoot up like he’s been caught red-handed.

“I didn’t! Mom has cooties, I had to get her away from me,” He whispered loud enough for me to hear and she gasped again, taking a wide step away from me.

I rolled my eyes at her theatrics, hands resting on my hips as I looked down at the girl. “Why don’t you go back to bed, dad will come in soon to sing to you okay?” I bend down to her height and she whines. “Hey, do you want pancakes or not?” I tilt my head and she immediately seals her lips shut. I smile. “Good, now run along,” I shoo her and she nods happily before scurrying back to her bedroom.

I sigh in relief once she’s gone, then look at Azriel with a glare. “What?” He says innocently. “Cooties? She’s going to avoid me for days,” I quietly shout at him and he mischievously grins. “It’s not my fault she woke up,” He shrugs. I grab a pillow from the couch and begin to hit him with it. “You knew she was coming didn’t you?” I continue to whack him and he puts his hands out in defense.

“It was funny!” He claims and I throw the pillow entirely at him, then plop down onto the couch in defeat. “I’ll be back,” He sings, leaning down and pressing a kiss to my forehead. I cross my arms and continue to glare at him. Still upset he let me get caught.

Without another word, he walks off down the hall to our daughter’s room.

I continue to simmer in my own exasperation, but my annoyance only lasts so long before I hear my daughters bubbling laughter from the other side of the wall. Some part of me wanted to tell my mate she was supposed to be going to sleep but, I missed the way he made her laugh, so I didn’t kill their fun, and I even let myself enjoy listening to the muffled voices of my two favorite people in the world. Our little family was finally restored.

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glitterypirateduck @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @fauxdette @going-through-shit @glam-targaryen @cauldronboilme27 @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogerbarnesxx @azriels-shadowsinger @stinkinstuffie @sandramalikstyles-blog @sassyangel16 @lilah-asteria @starsinyourseyes @inloveallthetime @melsunshine @nighttimemoonlover @ireallywannasleep127 @cumuluscranium

Azriel Taglist: @coolepowersthings @lovely-giggles @quiettuba @ilovewarner45 @judig92 @tothestarsandwhateverend @je-suis-prest-rachel @call-me-a-fool @brieflyclassymortal @cherryjain17 @stqrgirlies-blog @chelsiemp @nyxbranwenn @dnfhascorruptedme @summerandsalt @annamariereads16 @thisiskaylin @itsbonniebabe

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pit-and-the-pen · 2 months ago

Text

Matchmaker

Azriel x reader (part 5)

Summary: Reader finally makes it to Velaris for Starfall. Shopping and shadows are included. Plus, a meddling High Lord and Lady.

~~~~~~~~~

Velaris smelled like fresh rain.

Y/N stood at the edge of a narrow, flower-lined path, her eyes wide as she took in the city stretching before them in soft morning light.

The sky was blue, clouds stretched on for miles, and the Sidra glittered by them in the morning light. Sunlight caught on glass balconies and on the archways of bookstores and cafes

“Sweet Mother,” Selene breathed beside her as they walked along the cobblestones. “I think I just fell in love.”

Y/N didn’t answer, too busy drinking in every detail—the quiet, glowing warmth of the city. The birds singing from rooftop gardens. The scent of citrus bread wafting from a nearby bakery. The way every part of Velaris felt like it had been painted by a dreamer.

Their boots tapped down the path as they approached a townhouse tucked between two larger ones, its exterior covered in soft ivy and pink climbing flowers.

Selene turned with a grin. “This is the one.”

Y/N blinked. “Are you sure? This looks… like someone’s actual house.”

Selene didn’t answer—just twisted the ornate golden knob and pushed the door open.

Inside was bright and clean. Golden light spilled into the entryway from tall windows, reflecting off gleaming hardwood floors. The white walls, a staircase curling up to the second floor. It was beautiful—simple, but clearly expensive.

They both stood there for a second, looking around.

Y/N stepped in slowly, awestruck. “We’re really here.”

Selene dropped her bag with a soft thud and twirled in a circle. “I know. I can’t believe it either. Look at this place! This is nicer than any house I’ve ever stayed in. It’s like a dream!”

Y/N turned in place, trailing her fingers over a carved table set with a vase of fresh flowers. “How in the Cauldron did you make this happen?”

Selene bit her lip, eyes dancing. “I had… a little help.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “From who?”

A smug smile. “Helion.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“Helion owed me a favor,” she said with a shrug, clearly enjoying this. “I mentioned your birthday. And Starfall. And how you were being annoying and mopey—”

“I was not mopey.”

“—and he wrote to Rhysand.”

Y/N just stared at her. “Rhysand. High Lord of the Night Court.”

“Yep. Apparently he was thrilled to help. Told Helion your boy has been in a mood since they got back from Day.”

“A mood?”

Selene wiggled her eyebrows. “Quote: ‘broody shadowsinger has been sighing dramatically in every meeting and scaring others with his glowering.’”

They both stared at each other for a beat.

Then collapsed into giggles.

“Does he not know I’m here?”

“Um maybe? No? I don’t think so.” Selene said.

Y/N laughed again, then looked back around the townhouse. “I still can’t believe we’re actually in Velaris.”

“Believe it,” Selene claimed, already heading toward the stairs. “Come on, we’ve got to see the rest.”

They ended up running from room to room like kids. Every few seconds one of them would yell something from across the house.

“There’s a bookshelf built into the wall! With a ladder!”

“This tub is the size of my entire apartment!”

“Fit for Illyrian wings!”

“There’s wine already in the kitchen!”

Y/N opened a window in the upstairs bedroom and leaned out, the river just barely visible in the distance. “This is insane.”

Selene flopped onto the bed. “This is awesome. Admit it.”

Y/N turned around. “It’s awesome.”

They both sat for a second, catching their breath, bags forgotten by the door.

“So what now?” Y/N asked turning towards her friend.

Selene stretched. “We relax. We drink something bubbly. You pick out a book to pretend that’s the reason you’re here. And then… we plan our outfits for Starfall.”

Y/N shook her head, still smiling. “You’re out of control.”

Selene grinned. “And you love me for it.”

Y/N let her head fall back against the cushions, a giddy grin still tugging at her lips.

She had no idea how tomorrow would go.

But for now, she was here.

In his city.

In this townhouse.

And for the first time in weeks, she felt like maybe—just maybe—the stars were on her side.

Later on, Selene leaned against the doorway of the townhouse, sipping from a chipped mug one of them had found in the cabinet. “So… what does one wear to Starfall?”

Y/N flopped back on the couch, arms spread out like she was about to sink into the cushions. “Something sparkly, I think. Flowing. Ethereal. But not too ethereal. Like, ‘I might vanish into the stars but only after I get three drinks and some compliments.’”

Selene snorted. “So basically, we’re going shopping.”

Y/N sighed, then nodded. “Yeah. I’m not showing up to some Night Court event in a three-year-old dress that smells like the back of my closet.”

And with that, the two decided to change and fifteen minutes later, they were out the door.

The streets of Velaris were already stirring. The river glinted in the distance, and the scent of bread and flowers carried on the wind. It felt like the city itself was stretching awake, alive and humming.

Y/N let her eyes drift across the buildings, the sky, the faces they passed. There was something unsettling about how right this place felt, like slipping into a memory that hadn’t actually happened yet.

She couldn’t help but let her thoughts drift to Azriel.

This is where he lives.

He gets to wake up to this.

He belongs here.

She imagined him somewhere above them, maybe on a rooftop, maybe in the House of Wind, brooding and unreadable. Wondered if he was training. Wondered if he was still chasing Nyx around. Wondered if he even knew she was here.

A tug stirred deep in her chest. She scowled at it.

“Snap out of it,” she muttered under her breath.

Selene glanced over. “You good?”

“Yeah. Just... trying to keep my brain from spiraling.”

“Classic pre-shopping jitters.”

They stopped for coffee—iced, with a splash of something fruity that neither of them could pronounce—and wandered another block before spotting it. A boutique with gold-trimmed windows, racks of shimmering gowns catching the light inside.

“Oh,” Selene said.

“Yeah,” Y/N agreed.

They walked in.

The shop was an explosion of texture and color—tulle and sequins, velvet and glass beads, gowns in every color you could imagine, drifting on enchanted racks that floated gently above the floor.

A fae woman with silver hair and sun-glow skin greeted them with an excited wave. “Welcome! I’m Laila. Are we dressing for Starfall?”

Selene grinned. “We are. We need dresses that make jaws drop.”

“Done,” Laila said immediately, turning like she already knew what they needed. “Come, come.”

She led them through the racks, pulling dresses left and right, sizing them up in two glances. She held a deep wine-colored gown up to Selene and nodded in approval before turning to Y/N.

“Okay. What color are we thinking for you?”

Y/N hesitated. “Um… blue?”

Selene snorted. “Of course.”

Y/N gave her a look but smiled. “I want to stand out. Something that… makes someone notice. From across the room.”

Laila raised her eyebrows. “Ooh, is there someone you want to stand out for?”

Y/N felt heat creep up her neck. “Maybe.”

Laila winked and vanished between the racks like a huntress on a mission. Minutes later, she reappeared with something folded over her arm.

“I think this might be the one,” she said, handing it over.

The fabric shimmered in the light—pale blue with hints of silver, delicate and sparkling like moonlit water.

Y/N stepped into the fitting room and carefully changed into the dress. It hugged her like it was made for her—shimmering, cool-toned blue with intricate beadwork that caught the light with every tiny movement. The bodice fit like a glove, dipping just enough in the front, and the skirt fell in soft waves around her feet, layered and glittering like it was made..

Made for her.

When she stepped out, both Selene and Laila turned and froze.

Selene gasped. “Okay. That’s it. That’s the one.”

Laila clapped her hands together. “Oh my gods, yes. You look like Starfall was designed just for you.”

Y/N turned toward the mirror. She barely recognized herself. Elegant, sharp, confident—but still her.

There was something about this dress—how it caught the light, how it made her feel like she could belong here, even if just for one night.

Would he notice?

Would he stop whatever he was doing if he saw her in this?

Would it undo him like he’d been undoing her?

Her heart beat a little faster. She told herself it was just the excitement.

So, she swallowed the thoughts down and focused on how the dress moved when she turned.

After awhile, they both found their dresses—Selene picked a deep emerald gown with a high slit and an open back that made her look like trouble in heels—and headed to the counter to check out.

“What should we do tonight?” Selene asked as she leaned on the counter.

“Dinner? Trouble? Dancing?”

Laila looked up. “You two need to go to Rita’s.”

Both girls looked at her.

“Rita’s?” Y/N asked.

“Yep,” Laila said, sliding their dresses into garment bags. “Best drinks in the city. Best dancing. Good chaos. If you’re up for it… I can take you.”

Selene’s eyes lit up. “We are absolutely up for it. Would you want to join us for dinner before?”

Laila giggled, “Only if there’s wine involved.”

“There’s always wine involved,” Y/N said.

So, with that, plans were made and the two girls walked out with dresses slung over shoulders like prizes.

However, a few steps out the door, Y/N slowed.

She felt it. Just barely. A wisp of something trailing along her calf like a passing breeze. Something cool and familiar and—

She spun around. Nothing.

Just the street behind them. Busy. Normal.

Selene didn’t notice, still talking.

But something had touched her. She felt it.

Y/N looked again, scanning the shadows between buildings.

Nothing.

No sign of him.

She decided to just shake it off and continued on looking at a few more shops, before deciding to head back toward their temporary home.

But her skin still tingled.

Azriel had just stepped into the House of Wind when Feyre intercepted him like she’d been waiting for the sound of his boots on stone.

He paused, wings still slightly unfurled, the weight of travel clinging to him like mud. “I just got back.”

“I know,” Feyre said, her smile far too sweet. “But I need a favor.”

He exhaled, already regretting walking through the front door. “Rhys is in the next room.”

“Busy with Nyx,” she answered quickly. “You’re the only one who can help me right now.”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed. “Feyre.”

She held up both hands in defense. “It’s a simple errand. I swear. Just—pick up my Starfall dress. The boutique is on the main strip in town, near the coffeehouse with the painted windows.”

“You’re sending me to pick up your gown,” he said flatly.

““They’ll only hand it over to family,” she added with a shrug. “And Cassian’s still in Windhaven. So it has to be you.”

“Your sisters? You?”

“Um they are busy getting their own things for tomorrow and well I have this thing.” Feyre said.

“You’re manipulating me.”

“I’m asking nicely. Pretty please?” She clasped her hands and gave him the wide-eyed, over-the-top expression Nyx had clearly inherited. “You’re already dressed. You won’t even need to stay long.”

He rubbed a hand down his face. His wings ached. His shoulders felt like stone. He wanted two hours in silence and a hot bath, but instead—

“Fine.”

She clapped her hands, victorious. “Thank you! Name of the shop’s on the entry table.”

He turned to leave and heard her voice again, too casual.

“Oh—and maybe grab a coffee while you’re down there. I hear it’s busy today. Lots of newcomers for Starfall.”

He looked back at her, but she was already walking away quickly, humming.

Suspicious.

But whatever. He just wanted to get it over with.

So he flew again.

The drop from the House to the city was smooth, the wind cool against his face, but his shadows stirred oddly around him—too quick, too restless.

They twitched around him, stirring like restless birds, brushing over his shoulders and circling his ankles. The closer he got to the heart of the city, the more erratic they became.

“What’s gotten into you?” he muttered, pulling them back in tight once he landed.

They didn’t answer. One slid forward again, darting ahead into the city. Another followed, and when he tried to yank them back, one resisted completely.

Azriel frowned.

He adjusted his path, scanning the streets. The square was packed with mid-morning foot traffic—fae lingering at flower stalls, children running, others laughing over pastries at café tables.

He was too busy dodging the running children when he heard it.

A laugh.

Bright. Real. Familiar in a way that made him go still.

And something in his chest went still.

He turned just in time to see a figure ahead of him—brown hair caught in the wind, laughing with another woman as they moved through the crowd.

One of his shadows reached out—sliding along the cobblestones and up, curling around her ankle like it was drawn to her by instinct.

Azriel’s chest tightened.

He knew that sound.

That hair. He had his hand curled in it weeks ago.

But, it couldn’t be her. She wasn’t supposed to be in Velaris. No one said anything. Rhys would’ve told him. Feyre—

He pushed forward through the crowd, trying to get a better look. The wind shifted. Her profile turned—only for a second—but he couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t be sure.

“Excuse me,” he muttered as a group of people walked in front of him.

Yet, by the time he cleared the group, she was gone. Vanished between two side streets or ducked into a shop, he couldn’t tell. All he had was the ghost of a laugh and the weight in his gut that said he’d missed something.

Soon, his shadows slithered back to him one by one, swirling around his boots like smoke curling low over water.

Then one of them whispered, clear as anything.

Here.

Azriel’s brows pulled together. “Who?”

The shadows didn’t elaborate. They only repeated it again. Here. Finally.

His throat dried out.

He didn’t let himself believe it. Couldn’t afford to. Not until he saw her with his own eyes.

Azriel stared at nothing for a long beat. Then shook his head.

“Too long without sleep. I’m seeing things,” he muttered, stepping toward the boutique’s door.

The bell above it chimed as he walked in, the warmth and sparkle of the shop immediately hitting his senses.

But even as Laila greeted him with a surprised smile and went to retrieve Feyre’s dress, his mind wasn’t on the dress.

It was on that laugh.

And the shadow that had disobeyed him.

And the whisper that still echoed in the back of his head like prophecy.

Here.

A/N: just a lil teaser before we get into the love;) what could possibly go wrong when you throw alcohol, dancing, Ritas, and of course the inner circle together the night before starfall.

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pit-and-the-pen · 2 months ago

Text

Action!

Pairing: Azriel x Nesta x reader | WC: 3.4k | warnings: oral (f!receiving, m!receiving, everyone’s mouths are everywhere), piv, bondage, dildos, bossy Nesta, going to Paris

Summary: Having two mates is a dream come true for smutty book lover Nesta Archeron. There is nothing she enjoys more than having them reenact her favorite scenes, even if she is a picky audience.

Author’s note: um I don’t really know if the mechanics of the sex toy mentioned are possible but why can’t prythian have multitool dildos idk why not who cares anyway this is for you anon!!

“Azriel - take off her pants.”

Laying on your shared bed, Azriel’s warm body was on top of yours, his legs caging yours together. Hazel eyes full of desire looked down at you, debating if he should listen to the command or do as he wanted. A shadow slithered up to your elbow, sending goosebumps up your arms.

You recognized the moment in his eyes he decided to listen, groaning at the loss of his heat as he pulled off of you. His hands tugged at the waistband of your pants, sliding them down your legs as instructed, purple panties meeting the air.

Everything about this was at Nesta’s direction, even down to the clothes you wore. Azriel pinned you beneath him with his lusty gaze, waiting for further instructions, unphased by your whining.

“Now slowly slide your hands up her legs before settling your mouth on her.”

He did exactly as she instructed while you wiggled and whined beneath him. Pages rustled in the corner Nesta was occupying, a book laid out in front of her with a cover depicting a large orc and a swooning female. They all seemed the same to you, but she found great pleasure in having a live performance, and the two of you were keen to make her happy.

Azriel’s hands were cold as they slid up your legs, stretching the simple task out as long as he could. You couldn’t help the shivers that went up your spine, hopeful that Nesta didn’t notice your off script action.

“Hold her hips down and lick through her underwear, Az. I want her panting with need.” Her bossy tone nearly had you moaning already as Azriel’s hands did as she asked, pinning your hips in place. His tongue slid up your inner thigh, stopping contact with your skin at your panty line before resuming his crawl over your clothed cunt.

You bucked your hips up, desperate to wrap your legs around his face, but his hands kept you in place. His tongue moved expertly through your folds despite the cloth, knowing every spot that made your toes curl.

The shadowsinger was an eager actor, taking Nesta’s direction as if it were an assignment. He wasn’t always like this, his mood usually dominated what role he wanted to play.

It seemed today he was happy to indulge Nesta with whatever she wanted.

“Now take your pants off, Az. Dove, I want you to say, “you’re so big” when you see it.”

One of Nesta’s favorite bedroom activities was directing the two of you into a scene, telling you what to do and what to say. Depending on her whims of the day, sometimes she’d recreate scenes from books to what she thought should have happened or how she would insert herself.

One of her other favorites was tying up you or Azriel and acting out the scenes on the other one, forcing the tied up one to watch. She was always in control and it sent both of your heads spinning to hand it over to her.

Azriel’s pants slid down his hips, his large, hard cock popping out. You moaned at the sight, shutting your mouth quickly at Nesta’s disappointed sigh. You swallowed down her disappointment, trying for a lusty voice.

“You’re so big, Az,” you breathed out. No matter how many times you had seen it, it was still true. The sight of it still left you surprised you could fit all of it inside you.

“No - try again. More like a breathy virgin instead of whatever that was.” Nesta’s tone was annoyed, and you knew you only had one chance to fix it. She wasn’t exactly an accommodating director.

“You’re so big, Az,” you repeated, putting the emphasis on so. Nesta sat in silence, her mouth quirked as she watched, debating on if your performance was good enough. You couldn’t look at her, only watching Azriel stand over you, waiting for his next direction.

“Az, come sit in my chair. You may touch yourself.”

Your body ran cold at her words. You stilled as Azriel got off of you, half considering clinging to him to hold on. Whenever one of you failed her scenes, she was downright cruel.

“Nes, I’m sorry, we can do it again. I’ll be better.”

She tsked as she stood, making a big show of giving Azriel a big kiss before walking away. You were frozen on the bed, unsure what to do as she stopped at the chest at the end of your bed.

“Nesta, please? Let me be better.” You were squirming as she rifled through the chest, worried about what exactly she had planned for you. She made a big show of pulling out her purple harness, showing it off to you before laying it on the bed - a warning of what’s to come.

Nesta rifled through her chest some more, leaning over so you got the perfect view of her breasts. You could ignore how good she looked while in her chair, focusing your energy on Azriel, but you swallowed hard trying to tampen down your arousal. Now she stood before you in all her glory, not hidden behind pages of a book. She wore a deep black lingerie set, black lace doing little to cover her.

Nesta said nothing as she stepped into her harness, taking her time dragging the fabric up her toned legs. She attached her biggest strap to it - a bright blue glassy thing that was longer than Azriel’s cock. Nearly the size of your forearm, you had never been able to fit all of it inside of you before. You weren’t sure anyone could.

Nesta had bought it as a joke a few years ago, something the three of you drank a lot of wine while testing out, none of you able to fit more than three quarters of it inside.

Nesta crawled up the bed, your pleas of how you’ll do better falling on deaf ears as she approached you. You parted your legs automatically for her, Nesta stopping when she was right in between your thighs, her weight terrifying and thrilling above you.

Nesta was happiest when bossing the two of you around. Sometimes you and Az unintentionally took turns on who acted out, other days Nesta picked one of you as a scapegoat, wanting to get off on the power she held over you.

It made your heart race and your cunt throb.

She held your knees apart as she moved the cock through your folds, a whine coming from you at how cold it was.

“Say it.”

If you were feeling really bratty and wanted to be thrown over her knee, you could have responded with ‘it’. But today, today you wanted to be on your best behavior.

“You’re so big, Nesta.” You tried again, looking down at the cock as it picked up your arousal. You weren’t sure how she even had the thing made it was so big.

“Are you going to take all of it?”

She looked at you expectantly, but you didn’t know how far this script went. You hadn’t read the book, weren’t sure what to say.

“Yes, I will,” you nodded a bit too much, the movements of her cock dizzying. Despite its size, you wanted so badly to sink down onto it and take as much of it as you could.

“Do you really want to waste our time, hm? Look at Azriel.” Her hand grabbed your jaw, turning your head to look at the shadowsinger. His hand was slowly stroking his cock, enjoying his two mates from a distance. His face was impassive, waiting to hear what you’d say. “He was doing so well with someone who can’t take direction.”

You babbled out another apology as Nesta threw your legs over her shoulder, gently nudging the cock in. The stretch stung ever so lightly, dissipating into pleasure with each roll of her hips. Slowly she would push a bit before pulling back out, each attempt letting her go in deeper.

“You said you’d take it all.” It was stretching you out so well, you could feel yourself dripping onto the sheets. Nesta’s arousal was so strong it clung to your nose, acting as an aphrodisiac.

“If you’re a liar,” she said, thrusting in again, making it to halfway before pulling out, “you’ll just have to sit in the chair with this between your legs until you can prove it.”

Your thrusts grew more erratic at her words, despite knowing you were close to how much you could take. Her cock was filling you up and there really was no more room.

“And what will you do?”

She laughed at your question and if you weren’t so lost in your neediness you might have shrank back.

“Oh, Azriel and I will have a very fun time in this bed while you watch.” You thrashed beneath her, but she pinned your hips down, the fill of the cock almost too much and you weren’t even three quarters of the way.

“You’ll just have to sit and watch Azriel get rewarded time and time again while you struggle to fit it in.”

“I can do it,” your voice was strained, struggling as Nesta thrusted in again, her hips halting at your words.

“Let’s see where you are.” Her hand slowly slid down your thigh, stopping when she reached your clit. Her finger moved through your folds as she held the strap in place. You whined, grinding up and down on the cock to create more friction, growing frustrated with each second she didn’t move. Her fingers trailed down, wrapping around the visible part of her cock.

“There’s still about four more inches.”

You whined at her words, certain she must be wrong. You couldn’t handle even one more inch, let alone four - something she knew by the glint in her eye.

“Azriel, come collect her.” She slipped her cock out of you, ignoring your whine before sliding off the bed to pull her cock off the harness and exchanging the base of it for something that will suction.

“No, no, Nesta please.” You begged, hoping she’d come back. You were so close, you needed her to come back. Azriel stood from the chair, his hard cock up against his stomach as he made his way to you, wrapping his arms around you and picking you up from the bed with ease. You were wild with need and desperate to please her, but nothing you said was making its way through to her.

“I’ve changed my mind.” You perked up in Azriel’s arms, waiting to hear the rest, too lost in your lustful haze to pick up on her wicked smile. “You’ll be on the floor instead of the chair.”

You whined in Azriel’s arms, your mate not letting go as she suctioned the cock to the floor, testing it to make sure it’d stay in place. Azriel began to deposit you on the floor above the cock, stopping at Nesta’s raised hand.

“Wait a minute.” Nesta held up a hand before curling it around your throat as she stood behind you. “Lick it. Taste yourself on it.”

The shadowsinger put you on the floor, your knees thudding on the hard floor. You slowly bent down and stuck your tongue out, tasting yourself on the cock as they watched you. You felt their eyes on you, felt their arousal through the bonds in your chest.

Nesta’s nails dug into your hips, lifting them up into the air, giving both of them the perfect view of the slick arousal down your thighs. Nesta took the opportunity to press her hand against your cunt, her flat palm reigniting the heat in your belly as you stroked the cock with your tongue. You grinded against her hand, desperate for any kind of stimulation, but she only kept it in place.

“Put it in your mouth.”

You did as she said, wrapping your mouth around the toy. At your obedience, she stuck a finger between your folds, eliciting a low moan from you. You pushed back against her fingers, begging for more friction she surprisingly gave to you. You moaned around the cock as she sped up and slipped one of her fingers inside of you.

“I don’t think you can handle the whole thing.”

You put your mouth down further on the cock as if to prove to her you could take it. She stuck a second finger inside you, the other gently squeezing your hips back onto her hand.

Her fingers were magic, pushing in just the right spot. You knew she was getting off on watching you taste herself on her cock, but you didn’t care. It felt too good to stop.

You felt your orgasm coiling in your belly, just another minute of her touch would be all you needed. Before you could finish, she pulled her hand away, leaving you humping the air, desperate for her touch. She laughed, something cruel that had you tingling with embarrassment and arousal.

“Azriel, she’s going to sit on that cock while I ride you. Once she gets settled on it, can you use your shadows to keep her there?”

You pouted until one of the shadows pinched your left breast. It seemed even they listened to Nesta’s demanding bedroom tones.

You did as she said and sat onto the cock, the stretch a bit easier, but still coming up short. Your ankles locked into place as shadows held you down, a few twining around your wrists and holding them behind your back. Nesta looked at you approvingly as she climbed onto the bed, a wicked grin on her face.

“Perfect.”

You whined and ground down onto the cock, trying to bite down the moan fighting its way up your throat. Nesta oriented their bodies so their heads were facing you, able to watch you struggle while they fucked.

It was torture watching Nesta kiss him, her nails lightly digging into his neck as she ground onto his hips. The two together were so perfect, you had gotten off on just watching them on several occasions.

Held in place, you moved up and down on the cock, enjoying the show your mates were putting on. The shadows held you in place, but a few helped move your hips up and down and one even began nipping at your neck.

You glared at Azriel, the both of you aware of what he was doing, but he kept his eyes on Nesta. Azriel’s hands were gripping Nesta’s ass, slamming down onto his cock, thrusting up to meet her. The pair ignored you, too lost in each other to pay your moans any mind. You didn’t know how long it had been until Nesta finally peeled her lips off of his, raising her face just enough for you to see her eyes.

“What do you think, Az? Think we should let her join us?” The shadowsinger moaned, lifting up to kiss Nesta’s neck and down to her chest. One of the shadows hid in the valley beneath your breast, tugging at you like Azriel was doing to Nesta. “Or once we’re finished, I can keep playing with her.”

One of Azriel’s hands moved between them, fingers circling Nesta’s clit. The extra pressure made her grinding faster and sloppier, and she threw her head back in pleasure. You matched her pace, keeping the same rhythm she was, and you weren’t certain where your desire began and hers ended.

“Pin her hips down.” Azriel listened to Nesta’s command, his shadows wrapping around your hips holding you in place. You strained against them, desperate for friction, too turned on by your mates to think straight.

The shadows kept you in place as her moans grew louder. She was putting on a show, but you twitched with anticipation for each moan. You pushed against the shadows as your mate finished on top of Azriel, his hips still bucking seeking his own pleasure. Her heavy breaths filled the air but she was quick to stop Azriel’s movements.

It seemed her favor for him had run out.

She said nothing as she climbed off of him, the obscene sound of his cock falling out of her nearly making your eyes roll back. She made quick work of stepping off the bed before pointing at you, silently telling Azriel to collect you.

The shadows loosened their hold only as their master came to get you, picking you up as if you weighed nothing before waiting for Nesta’s order. You pressed your thighs together, unable to stop yourself from indulging in the scent of him.

Nesta put a new cock on, this one smaller and much more manageable. The wait was excruciating as Azriel held you in place. This had to be just as torturous for the shadowsinger, his cock hard and twitching beneath you.

Nesta pointed to the bed, eventually orienting you and Azriel back to a similar position from earlier, except you were on your hands and knees as he sat up on his knees.

Nesta’s fingers were wrapped in your hair, holding your face inches from his cock. You nearly reached out to lick the tip, just for a taste of the beads of cum leaking from him. Nesta stood behind you, holding your back to her front, not giving you any wiggle room.

“Now, tell him it’s big.”

Nesta slowly slid back inside you, the smaller cock attached to her harness making your knees weak. Your mouth parted, trying to think through the pleasure, trying to remember what she said. It was so hard when all your thoughts revolved around both of them and how badly you wanted to finish.

“It’s so big, Azriel.”

Nesta pulled back out before slowly sliding back in a little deeper.

“Good. Now take him in your mouth.”

You opened for him as his cock pressed into your mouth, the sweet taste of his and Nesta’s arousal still coating it. Your grip on the sheets tightened, unsure how long you’ll last.

“Good girl.”

Nesta dug her nails into your ass, clutching at your hips, sure to leave bruises. Her praise went straight to your head, your mating bond practically singing under her praise.

“Are you going to be a good actress next time?”

Your mouth still around Azriel, your nose pressed up to his stomach, all you could say was ‘mhm.”

It was good enough for Nesta.

“Az, move with me.” The two coordinated their strokes, Azriel pushing into your mouth as Nesta pulled back. It was dizzying how good it felt. Azriel had a firm hold on your head while Nesta kept your hips in place.

“You’re taking us so well.” Their thrusts were speeding up and you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold out. Waves of pleasure kept riding inside you, and you were so close you could almost taste it.

Azriel’s thrusts grew out of time with Nesta’s growing faster as his orgasm approached. Nesta wrapped one of her hands around your hips, her long finger rubbing at your clit the extra pressure you needed.

Azriel held the back of your head to his cock as he finished, his warm semen shooting down your throat. The feeling of his orgasm in your chest, along with all of Nesta’s touching, sent you over the edge, moaning around his emptying cock.

Nesta held her strap deep inside you, heightening your waves of pleasure until you tapped Azriel’s thigh with your hand. They both quickly removed themselves from you, Azriel’s hands cradling your head as you collapsed onto the bed.

You had fallen half on Azriel, both of you gasping for breath, coherent thought an untenable concept at the moment.

“Shh.” Nesta rubbed your head, gently stroking your hair as you breathed hard. Her voice was softer now, the demanding tone replaced with one full of warmth.

“I’m going to run a bath. Do you want to be alone or want us to join you?” You raised up two fingers, too tired to say anything. Nesta ran a hand up Azriel’s side, one of his wings shuddering from the action. She quickly collected you in her arms, lifting the two of you up before carrying you to the bathroom, gently rubbing your back.

“We wore her out, Az.” Azriel didn’t answer as Nesta stepped into the bath, cradling you to her chest. She strained her ears, listening for her other mate, only to hear soft breathing coming from their room. Nesta chuckled to the house as she nestled into the tub, water sloshing with her.

“I think I wore them both out.”

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#I live for bossy Nesta

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pit-and-the-pen · 2 months ago

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Invisible String - Part 5

Part 5 is here!!! Hope you enjoy:) feedback is appreciated<3

Azriel x reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Warnings: smut!!! Toxic relationship, jealousy, sorry if there are some mistakes! English is not my first language :)

——————————-

An Autumn Court song starts playing right as you and Eris reach the dance floor. He clasps his right hand on your left, his other hand reaching across your body to your back. His fingers feel cold on your bare skin, and you feel weird, as if his hands weren’t supposed to be there. You and Eris start dancing, your feet easily following the steps. He spins you around, the smirk never leaving his face. Eris tightens his grip on you, his hand travelling just slightly lower on your back.

“Isn’t it unfair,” Eris looks at you as his words leave his sensuous mouth. “That whenever I see you, I don’t get to have you for even five minutes?”

You analyze his amber eyes, shining under the faelights. “I wasn’t aware that you were so smitten with me.” Your voice comes out sultry and Eris’ hand travels lower down your back.

You can feel a pair of eyes on you, and you know that if you turn around, you’ll find Azriel staring at you and Eris. Maybe that’s the reason you let the male bring his hand lower than you’ll ever let anyone else. Apart from the Shadowsinger.

“It amazes me how a female like you can’t seem to realize her worth.” Eris stares above your head, and you know he is looking at Az.

“Don’t mistake my politeness for friendship, Eris.” His eyes land on you again. “I’ll advise you to stay in your business and I’ll do just the same.”

Eris smirks at you once more, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I love this fire you have in you.”

You roll your eyes, but a little smile pops up almost involuntarily. The song ends and another starts, and Eris keeps moving with you across the dance floor. His hand tightens around your torso and his fingers slightly caress your back, making you close your eyes at the feeling. For a second, there’s only the music and your dancing.

Eris spins you until he abruptly stops. Eyes still closed, you furrow your eyebrows together, until a hand that doesn’t belong to the red-head male in front of you lands on your hip. You open your eyes, but not fast enough, and darkness and shadows envelop you as Eris’ face disappears.

You land in a small room that looks like an office, and the music is now a distant sound. You turn around, and hazel eyes are staring at you angrily.

“What the fuck are you doing?! Are you out of your mind?! Do you think it’s appropriate for you to put on this nonsense show?!” The words tumble out of your mouth uncontrollably. “I swear I’m done with you and this fucking-”

In three long strides he’s right in front of you, and before you can finish your sentence, Azriel’s lips are on yours. He backs the two of you against a table, one of his hands holding your waist, the other travelling up your neck and hair, colliding with your hair piece. Azriel takes it out, your long hair falling across your back. He buries his hands on your hair, tugging slightly at it. You moan and he takes advantage of it. Both of your tongues collide and it’s a rough kiss, as if you’d both been missing the other too much. Not that either of you will ever accept it.

His hands roam down your body, landing on your ass, squeezing hard. Your hands are on his hair, tugging at his dark locks. Azriel’s hands start pulling the fabric of your dress up, exposing your long legs to the cool air. His mouth travels to the middle of your throat, biting it and making you moan. He separates from you just a little, and you jump onto the table, your dress now bunched up around your hips.

“I love this fucking dress on you.” You know it, that’s why you wore it today. “But I love it even more laying on the floor.”

You open your legs and grab his neck, bringing him close to your center. Azriel’s hands tighten on your naked thighs. “Fuck, I’ve missed this.”

He looks at your eyes, both of you stopping for just a second with the unsaid words. I’ve missed you. Suddenly, it feels too emotional, so you put your hand on his length, stroking him through his pants. Azriel’s eyes roll to the back of his head, and he lets out a string of curse words at the contact. You bit your lip, loving every second of it. He composes himself enough to kiss you again, this time slower, as if he wants to memorize every inch of your mouth. His hands travel up your thighs, until they find the band of your underwear. His knuckles caress your middle, and he moans, looking down at it.

“So wet already…” He mumbles almost for himself.

One of his fingers hook on your underwear and pull it to the side, your sex gleaming. Azriel’s eyes widen and he licks his lips. “Fuck… So beautiful.”

You blush at his words, you can’t help it, and he looks at you, his other hand cupping your cheek and giving you a soft peck. The action is so casual, you feel the emotion bubbling up on your chest. But before you can say anything, he inserts a finger, making you close your eyes and moan. Your head falls back and Azriel takes advantage of it, nipping and kissing your throat. He adds another finger and you scream.

“Fuck, Azriel, yes.” Your voice is breathless, your legs parting more.

His thumb circles your clit, making you see stars. “You like that, love?”

A moan is your only answer, and you open your eyes to see him staring down at where his fingers disappear inside of you, his lips slightly parted, his pupils so dilated there’s no hazel in his eyes.

His thumb circles your clit quickly, and you know you’re not going to last much longer. “Are you going to come just from my fingers, (Y/N)?” His other hand travels from your neck to your clothed breast, and he squeezes it roughly. “Such a good girl.”

You moan again, unable to control your pleasure. Opening your eyes, you see Azriel looking at you like you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen. And you’re so close, his fingers work you quick and sharp, and you feel that familiar feeling on the bottom of your stomach, so close, so-

“(Y/N), my palace.” Your eyes go wide as Rhysand’s voice fills your head. “Now.”

Azriel abruptly stops, his brows furrowed. He removes his fingers from you, and you want to whine at the loss of contact. He looks at you, an annoyed expression on his face, and you can see him opening and closing his fist, your slickness all over his fingers. The magic of the moment is gone, replaced by something else much different. But Azriel looks at you one last time, and with a casualness that startles you, he licks the fingers that just right now were about to give you a mind-blowing orgasm.

You part your mouth and watch with hooded eyes as his tongue licks them clean. Once he’s done, he grabs your jaw with his other hand and gives you a slow kiss, almost as if saying goodbye.

“We need to leave.” Az confirms Rhysand has called for him too, and you feel satisfied to hear how breathless he is.

Azriel takes a step backwards and you jump down from the table, your dress pooling around your legs.

“You go first.” You brush the silky material and try to look around for your hair piece, avoiding his eyes.

Az gives you a court nod and disappears in between shadows and mist. Once you’re alone, you let out a long breath. Your skin is hot, your body begging for some kind of release, but you can’t waste any more time, knowing that Rhys, and probably the others, are waiting for you. Looking around the room everything is dark and your hair piece is nowhere to be seen.

Muttering a curse word, you try to comb your hair with your fingers and hope you look somewhat presentable before winnowing to Rhys’ palace, right outside his office.

When you open the door, everyone is already there. Azriel looks at you, a smug expression on his face that you ignore. Not that the other’s faces are much better. Feyre and Nesta are looking at you with concern in their eyes while Cassian and Mor are trying to suppress a teasing smile. At least Amren just looks bored. But Rhysand… He stares at you, one of his eyebrows raising slightly in silent question, and you can almost see the disappointment painted on his face. You look away, your cheeks stained with color, and you can only imagine how you look right now. Your dress is wrinkled, your eyes are probably glassy and your mouth pink and swollen. And your smell… You know they can smell Azriel on you, just as they can smell you on him. Your cheeks go hotter with embarrassment; can someone start talking already?

“What’s going on?” As if reading your mind, Azriel speaks, one of his shadows timidly reaching your hand before vanishing.

You almost sigh, because he knows you just too well, and you feel like crying, because you don’t understand what you’re doing anymore.

“Eris told us some valuable information.” Rhys’ voice takes you out of your thoughts, your brows furrowing at that. “Apparently, Beron had been quiet for some time because he was still plotting with Koschei. His plan to start a war still stands, and he wants to attack the Night Court first.”

“Beron would be stupid to attack us first, we may be weakened by the war but we are still superior than Autumn’s army.” Cassian points out, his face grave.

“He knows that.” Feyre speaks, her voice solemn, getting into her role of High Lady perfectly. “That’s why he needs Koschei. Eris believes he is planning to free the sorcerer. Apparently, Beron visited Thesan over at Dawn Court, asking about his healing abilities.”

“Koschei can be free with some healing spell?” Cassian asks.

“For Koschei to be completely free would be extremely difficult and would require an immense amount of power.” Amren’s voice is grave. “But a healing spell… A powerful one would maybe… Help, in some way.” She looks at you.

“Healing magic is… complicated.” You look down at your own hands. “It’s raw magic, it’s pure light. Pure power. That’s why there are not many of us, specially not outside of Dawn Court.”

“Why?” Nesta looks at you curiously.

“As I said, healing magic is very powerful. It can be used for its intended purpose, like Madja and I do with your wounds.” You signal to your friends. “But it can also be used for… other purposes, I guess. In Dawn Court, the healers are safe from those who want to use their magic as something more. You need to look at it as an antidote, and you need to understand the curse, the spell, as an illness.”

“So healing magic could break a curse like Koschei’s?” Now it’s Morrigan who is looking at you curiously.

“It would take time, but yes.” You sigh. “Thesan could do it, and a few of his most trusted healers, as well.”

“And you, (Y/N).” Rhysand is looking at you, his arms crossed. “You know how to do it, too.”

“You do?” Azriel takes a step towards you, his shadows covering every corner of the room and his eyes slightly wide, the only hint of surprise he will show.

“No.” At that, a wave of Rhysand’s power covers the room and you look at him. “Not entirely! I learned how to use healing magic…” You make a pause. “Differently, with Thesan. But I’ve never tried it.”

“But you know how to do it, girl.” Amren raises an eyebrow at you. “If Beron is aware of that, it’s possible that he’s looking for you.”

“But that’s stupid.” Nesta chimes in. “Why would Beron go after (Y/N), knowing that we could easily defuse his advances, knowing that she is a trained warrior, when he could just go find someone at Dawn Court?”

“Because in coming here and taking (Y/N), he forces us to attack.” Feyre raises her chin. “And that would be his excuse to declare a war.”

Your head is spinning now. Beron wants to use you to go to war with your Court?

“(Y/N), if it’s fine with you, we would want you to move to the House of Wind. It’s where you’ll be safer. Plus, Cassian and Nesta will be there. And Azriel.” Rhys says the last part with caution, looking in between both of you.

“Eris didn’t know, but he’s sure that if Beron plans to attack, he will count on him, so he’ll be able to warn us.” Feyre gives you a small smile.

“Are we really trusting Eris?” Azriel’s voice sounds much closer, and you look up to see he is now behind you, his arm brushing your shoulder.

“We don’t have much choice, and so far he hasn’t given us fake information, so yes, we are trusting Eris.” Rhysand emphasizes the “we”, staring directly at Azriel with warning.

“It’s okay, I’ve been training my whole life.” You try to diffuse the tension in between Az and your High Lord. “We’ll crush them, if they even decide to come.”

—————————

Azriel winnows you, Cassian and Nesta right outside the House of Wind and he quickly grabs you by the back of your knees and your back so he can carry you up to the Veranda. Cassian does the same with Nesta, and both Illyrians land at the same time. You get off Azriel quickly, trying to avoid him as much as possible, something that becomes quite difficult when you mumble something about settling in and he follows you up to your new room.

The space is big and cozy, with a bathroom attached and a bed big enough for five people to sleep peacefully. You push the door but a foot stops it right as it’s about to close. Azriel opens it easily with a hand and leans against the door frame. Arms crossed, he looks at you, and you swear you see worry passing through his eyes. But it quickly fades away into something else. Something darker.

“I think we have some… unresolved business.” Azriel licks his lips and tries and fails to stop his smirk.

You look at his mouth, his beautiful and open face. You love seeing him like this, so different from his usual quiet self. He only lets his brooding façade crumble when he’s around you, only lets his guard down for you. Something warm pools at the bottom of your stomach at the thought.

“I’d much rather take a bath and get settled in.” Your voice is raspy and the smell of his arousal envelopes you like a warm blanket.

“I like the idea of taking a bath.” He takes a step forward and you take one back.

“A bath alone, by myself.” Your hands are sweaty and, gods, why do you have to be so nervous around him? You’ve done this a thousand times.

“I also really like the idea of seeing you taking a bath.” You can see the amusement glinting in his eyes. He has always loved teasing you.

You take a deep breath and look at him. Really look at him. If you have to live together now, you need to start putting some distance in between you and Azriel, or you won’t make it out alive. You walk slowly towards him, and you can see Azriel watching your every movement. You stop in front of him, look up into his eyes.

“We live together now.” He hums at your affirmation, and the hairs at the back of your neck raise. “I think it would be wiser if we stopped doing… this.” You point to the both of you.

Azriel just raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth quirking up. You reach out your hand in between your bodies. “Let’s just be friends.”

“Friends?” Azriel sounds sceptical.

“Friends.” You nod, but add quickly. “Normal friends, not friends with benefits shit.”

Now Azriel fully smirks, but shrugs his shoulders. “Fine, friends.”

He shakes your hand, and you swear something electric passes in between both of you, but you ignore it. Azriel tugs at your hand, and your body collides with him with the unexpected movement. He lowers his head until his mouth is right next to your ear, his breath fanning over your neck.

“I’m looking forward to when you finally come to me.” You can feel the smirk on his voice.

A little breath escapes your mouth at his words, and he separates himself from you. He walks to the door, leaving you all hot and bothered. He turns around one last time.

“Let’s see how good we are at being friends.” And then he’s gone. You’re definitely in for some interesting weeks.

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pit-and-the-pen · 2 months ago

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Invisible String - Part 3

So… it’s pretty obvious that this has become a series. Hope you enjoy our little toxic dumbasses!

Azriel x reader

Part 1 | Part 2

Warnings: angst, cursing, toxic relationship, smutty talk

“I can’t believe he said that to you” Nesta sits next to you on the couch, talking to you with that deadly calm voice she always uses when something is not sitting right with her. “I’m going to kick his ass next time I see him.”

“We can kick his ass together.” Mor says from her spot on the floor.

“Not necessary, girls.” You watch them roll their eyes at you at the same time. “Besides, it’s not like we haven’t said worse things to one another…”

“But (Y/N),” Feyre interjects from her spot at the armchair in front of you. “Saying that he thinks about you when he’s hooking up with other girls is, like, really bad.”

Nesta and Mor nod at that and you look at them. It’s not common for the sisters to be together sharing an intimate space such as the library at the House of Wind. Nesta and Feyre are civil now, even friendly most of the time. And they will always come to you if you call. That is why you love them so much, as well as Mor, who you’ve known for the longest time.

“I don’t know…” You rub your temples.

Yesterday Azriel dropped you that bomb and, luckily, today he was sent away on some mission. The bad thing? He has gone to the Spring Court, where Lucien resides now with her. Elain. “Has Rhys heard anything from him at all?”

“Last he heard he was about to enter the Spring Court, so he’s probably there talking with Lucien and Elain.” Feyre says cautiously.

“Great.”

“What happened between you two, anyway?” Nesta has never been one to dance over a subject. “Cass always says that you and Azriel were basically attached at the hip.”

You feel your lungs constrict at her words, because it’s true. Azriel was your partner in crime, the first person you always looked for in a room, the one that you wanted comfort from, who you could show everything within you, the good, the bad and the ugly, because you knew he would never judge you.

“When Rhys was Under the Mountain, it was hard here.” You sigh and Feyre gets up to sit by your side, a hand on your shoulder that you appreciate. “A lot of stuff happened, we blamed each other, but we also felt guilty for the situation. I don’t know. I guess we didn’t know how to process it.” You look at Mor and she gives you a little smile. She understands how it was better than anyone else.

Your throat closes and you feel almost dizzy remembering those days. Feyre puts and arm around your shoulders and Nesta grabs your hand. Mor gets up to sit on the floor again right in front of you, both her hands resting on your legs. You look at your friends and thank the gods for bringing them to you and understanding you so well. Because whatever it is you are doing with Azriel, you know it makes no sense. And it pains you to see how things ended after everything you went through with him.

“(Y/N), we love you, all of us.” Feyre mumbles and squeezes your shoulders. “But this thing you have going on with Az… It’s hurting you more than making you any good.”

“I know…” You whisper. How is it possible that something that was so beautiful turns into this ugly and complicated situation?

You flip the pages of a book you can’t even name mindlessly. Where is he? It’s already so late, he should have arrived already. The meeting with Cassian had probably ended hours ago, and he promised you that today you would have dinner together. But now it’s already nighttime, the food is cold on the table of the living room and you feel like crying. It’s not the first time Azriel has disappeared and completely ditched you. In fact, it has become something so usual that even Mor asked if you’d like for her to come and have dinner with you, because, deep down, she knew Azriel would not appear today.

Your heart beats fast and you feel the book slipping from your sweaty hands. What is he doing? Is he with someone else? Before you can overthink more, the door from your little apartment in Velaris opens and you hear steps walking in slowly. His smell envelopes you, like rain and wind, and you feel tears prickle at your eyes. Azriel appears at the threshold of your shared bedroom. You drop the book and sit up on the bed, wait for him to say something, to apologize, but he just stares blankly at you.

“Are you drunk?” Your voice is high and it seems to wake him up of some trance.

“No.” Lie. You can smell the alcohol now that he’s closer.

“Where were you?”

“Out.”

You purse your lips. Is this how your relationship will be forever? You have had your ups and downs with Azriel, but for the last three years, it seems like a constant fight.

“Out with who?”

“Out with Cass.” His tone changes to annoyed, and you can see he fights not to roll his eyes at you. “After the meeting we went and had dinner, and we grabbed some drinks. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“I was hoping it was, taking into account that you skipped the dinner that you promised me to go grab some drinks with your friend.” Annoyance fills your voice and now Azriel does roll his eyes at you.

“Let’s not do this, please.”

“Do what, Azriel?” You get up now, pacing around the room, too nervous to stay still. “You know how many times I’ve been here, alone, waiting for you to finally show up? How many nights I’ve spent asking myself where were you? I’m tired of this shit, I can’t do this anymore.” Your eyes fill with tears at the words coming from your mouth.

“What do you want me to say, (Y/N)?” Azriel’s voice sounds weird, annoyed, mad, sad. “I’m sorry, okay?! But it’s been almost 50 years. 50 years without Rhys and I don’t know what to do. Fuck! I hoped by now we would have rescued him back, but he’s not here and all of us are trying to fucking rule this city in the shadows and it’s just tiring. I just want to leave.”

“You want to leave me?”

“I want to leave everything.” He runs his hands down his hair and a single tear drops from your eye. “I can’t do this anymore, (Y/N).” He walks towards you and grabs your face. “I love you, you know I do. But…”

“But what, Azriel?” The tears are now freely running down your face, and Azriel tries to wipe them with his thumbs.

“I don’t think I know how to be with you.”

You feel like you might be drowning, because your relationship has been complicated, but Azriel has never said he wanted to give up on it.

“Why?” Your voice is low and you hate how pathetic you sound.

“I just…” He drops his hands from your face, looks down. “This isn’t working anymore. I love you, (Y/N), I really do. But I feel like I’m falling and I don’t want to drag you down with me.”

“I can help you, Az.” Now it’s you who grabs his face, make him look at you, trying to make him remember everything you’ve gone through together. “I’ll help you, I don’t care if I have to fall with you. We’ll get up together, like we’ve always done.”

“(Y/N)…” You can see his eyes glint with tears. “I don’t want to leave you, but I have already hurt you enough, I’m so sorry.”

Azriel grabs one of your hands, kisses your palm and takes a step backwards. You want to get close to him, to grab him and not let him go, but your feet aren’t moving. He looks at you one last time, a tear rolling down his face, and then he turns around and leaves you.

“(Y/N)?” Mor’s voice drags you out of the painful memory, and your three friends have concerned faces.

“I’m sorry, what?” You swallow the knot in your throat.

“Are you coming to tonight’s dinner?” Mor repeats softer.

Rhys has organized a dinner with everyone in the inner circle tonight, even little Nyx.

“Of course, wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world.”

————————————

Feyre has decorated the table with flowers and candles, and the dining room from the River House looks as dazzling as ever. When you arrive, everyone is already there, Azriel included. You can’t hide your surprised expression at seeing him, you thought he wouldn’t have come back from Spring Court yet.

A loud laugh catches your attention and you smile at Nyx, his little wings flaring while Cassian throws him up and down and Nesta tries to snatch the kid from him. You laugh at the image and get close to them. Nyx sees you and gives you a big smile.

“(Y/N)!” He doesn’t pronounce your name quite well yet but you forgive him.

You grab him from Cassian and plant a big kiss on Nyx’s cheek. “What was Cass doing with you, huh? Getting himself into trouble with auntie Nes?”

Cassian laughs and grabs Nesta’s waist, who rolls her eyes but leans into him. You feel an unexpected weight on your shoulders, and a too familiar smell envelopes you. Azriel’s muscular arm is on your shoulders, which now are tense.

“Hey, Nyx.” Azriel smiles at the babe and pinches his little cheek. Nyx, of course, laughs, delighted that Azriel is giving him some attention. Kind of relatable.

You look at the side of his face, then at Nyx in your arms, and suddenly everything becomes too real, an unwanted memory resurfacing once again.

The cool breeze enters through the window and makes goosebumps appear on your skin. Tangled up with Azriel in bed, both of you naked, it’s the perfect Sunday morning. He’s got your hands intwertwined and is looking at you like you hung the moon.

“Do you want to have kids someday?” The question pops out of your mouth without much thought.

Azriel contemplates you for a few seconds. “Yes, I would like to have kids in the future.” He gives you a little smile. “As long as they look like you.”

You laugh and get closer to him, your bodies flushed.

“I would love to have a mini you running around. Except from the whole brooding thing you’ve got going on.” You tease him and he flicks your nose. You get more serious, look him in the eye. “I’m sure you’ll be a great dad, Az.”

He doesn’t answer, but you can see his eyes, grateful, loving. You kiss him slowly, as if you want to remember every inch of his mouth.

“Someday we’ll have kids. But in the meantime…” He puts you on your back and hovers above you, his majestic wings shielding you both from the real world. “We can start practicing.”

Azriel winks at you and you laugh, and that’s the last thing you see before he passionately kisses you.

A soft touch on your neck wakes you up from the memory. Cassian and Nesta are gone, Azriel is making silly faces at Nyx and his thumb is caressing the side of your neck. An almost imperceptible touch, but you feel it. Because you feel and see everything he does. Luckily, Nyx decides he wants his mom and calls for her. Feyre is there in the blink of an eye, and you give her Nyx before he starts crying.

Azriel’s arm is still on your shoulders, his thumb giving delicate strokes to your neck. You step away from him, put some distance, try to think coherently.

“How was the Spring Court?” You cross your arms over your chest. It’s just a casual question.

“Good. Flowery. Luckily Tamlin was nowhere to be seen.”

“How was Elain?” You know you’re not being exactly slick with it, but you’re past the point of caring. Azriel knows you too well anyway, always gets your intention.

“She was good. She seems happy with Lucien.”

Azriel has this serious face that you can’t decipher, and before you can continue and make it awkward for all of you, Rhys calls you to the table.

The dinner is fantastic, and you look around the table to your found family. How lucky you are. Dessert comes and then drinks, and Feyre excuses herself to go put Nyx in bed.

“We have to organize a ball in Hewn City, it’s been a while now and Keir has asked me to.” Rhys looks at the table. “We need to invite Eris.”

Cassian grunts and Azriel tenses. Mor doesn’t react.

“I think it’s the right thing.” Amren adds. “He is our ally now.”

“Barely.” Cassian mumbles and Amren gives him a cold stare.

“(Y/N) I would like for you to meet him in advance, extend the invitation yourself.” Rhys looks at you and you nod. “You can meet on the border of Hewn City, no one will care there.”

“I’m going, too.” Azriel’s voice is cold.

You look at him, so does the rest of the table. Feyre just came back and she sits next to Rhys.

“You don’t have to.” Rhys says.

“I can take care of myself.” You say at the same time.

“I know.” Azriel looks at you and then at Rhys. “Eris looks at her like she will be his next snack. I’m going with her.”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t think Eris will appreciate you being there.”

“I agree with (Y/N).” Rhys says.

“I’m sorry but it is not up for discussion. Eris may be our ally but he’s clearly not someone who we can trust. I’m going with her.” Azriel looks at Rhys, his tone leaving little to discuss.

Rhys and Azriel’s eyes turn void, Feyre’s too, and you know they are having a conversation. It doesn’t last long, suddenly their eyes are back to normal and Rhys looks at you almost apologetically.

“Okey, Azriel is going with you. You’re leaving in two days.”

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pit-and-the-pen · 2 months ago

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If anyone is looking for an Azriel x OC fic, may I recommend: Charting the Course by atrashbearthattrashes. Please join me in showering this writer with love. This fic is so, so well written.

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pit-and-the-pen · 2 months ago

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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤

I didn’t see the notification for this, apologies for the late reply!

First one is Spring Meadow. Just a fluffy little Lucien piece that was one of my first fics!

Next is a Tamlin week fic Spring Flowers, Autumn Leaves. Persephone and Hades inspired because I gotta remind people I’m a classics major somehow.

On the Tamlin wave, Wilting in My Lonely Tower, Waiting by an Open Door. My Tamlin healing series but I’m trying to write more before the I put out the next parts

I gotta show some love for my first requested fic on this blog which was Azriel and a winged reader . This was kinda the start of my Azriel era (smutty)

And last but not least, my Azriel x Rhys! Sister series, I’ll Crawl Home to Her. I want to go in a slightly different direction with it so I’m going back and changing a lot of the chapters I had pre-written so it’s still on hiatus but I’m going to finish it I pinky promise

I know my posting has been really spotty but my job is very time consuming and is creative so it takes up a lot of my brain power but I’m so thankful for being able to post on this site and the way this fandom welcomed me🥰

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pit-and-the-pen · 2 months ago

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This is amazing. Pining that borders on poetry. Oh my goodness

Soul Inked

Azriel x female!reader

Summary: Y/N is a gifted tattoo artist whose enchanted ink reveals truths about a person’s soul. When the rest of the Inner Circle have already received tattoos from her, Azriel remains the lone holdoutuntil a trip to Windhaven and a reunion with Y/N force him to confront old scars, both literal and emotional. As they reconnect through ink, memory, and quiet understanding, buried feelings rise to the surface, and Azriel finally allows himself to be seen, not just by her, but by himself. What begins with ink ends in transformation, healing, and one very steamy bath.

Warnings: slow burn romance, emotional intimacy, tattoos, angst, soft boy Azriel, post-canon setting, trauma, mutual pining, emotional healing, mature content (18+), bathtub sex, fingering, p in v, unprotexted sex, multiple orgasms, comfort

Word count: 12.6k

A/N: Thank you so much for reading this story. English is my third language, so please be kind if anything sounds a bit off.. Thank you for being here, and for giving it a chance. Every comment, reblog, or kind word means more than I can say. P.S. I firmly believe Azriel’s tattoo would glow like a love confession every time he thinks of her. That man is made of longing and secrets and I will not apologize.

masterlist

The sun was starting to dip over Velaris, casting long, golden streaks across the House of Wind’s sprawling terrace. Wind tugged lazily at Cassian’s hair as he leaned back in a chair far too delicate for his bulk, booted feet propped on the stone railing, a half-finished bottle of wine within reach.

“I’m just saying,” he said, twirling a goblet between his fingers, “…it’s suspicious that Azriel is the only one of us who hasn’t gotten a tattoo from Y/N.”

Rhys looked up from the report in his lap, an amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “All of us have been wondering when someone would bring that up.”

“I wasn’t wondering,” Amren said dryly from her perch near the firepit, examining her newly polished nails. “I already assumed it’s because he’s emotionally constipated.”

Azriel didn’t look up. He sat apart from the rest, half in shadow, meticulously sharpening a dagger with rhythmic precision. Shhhk. Shhhk. The sound was oddly soothing.

“I have no need for magical tattoos,” he said simply, tone cool and unreadable.

“None of us needed them,” Mor chimed in, lounging on a velvet chaise with a slice of peach cake in hand. “But we got them anyway because they’re gorgeous and personal and, let’s be honest, Y/N’s magic is incredible. Mine literally glows when I lie. It’s very inconvenient.” She grinned, clearly not sorry.

Cassian held out his arm, twisting it so the black ink shimmered into a pattern of wings and flame across his bicep. “Mine lights up when I’m about to do something reckless. Which is... constant.”

Rhys chuckled. “Feyre’s changes color depending on her emotions. It’s saved us from at least three arguments.”

“Saved you,” Amren muttered.

“I don’t see the point,” Azriel said, still not looking at any of them. Shadows danced around his shoulders like restless birds.

“Oh, come on,” Mor groaned. “She’s been your friend for centuries. She did all our tattoos for free. You’re literally going to Windhaven tomorrow and you still haven’t let her ink you? It’s insulting.”

Azriel’s jaw ticked.

Rhys caught the shift. “You’re avoiding it.”

“I’m focused on the mission.”

“Please,” Cassian said, clearly delighted now. “You’ve been dodging her studio like it’s a battlefield. Is it because her tattoos reflect your soul?” His voice dropped dramatically. “What if it reveals you’re just a big softie under all that brooding?”

Mor howled with laughter. Even Amren smirked.

Azriel set down the dagger. Slowly. Carefully. “I don’t want magic crawling beneath my skin,” he said, quiet but firm. “Especially not magic that... changes.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Rhys said gently, “You trust her, don’t you?”

Azriel met his High Lord’s gaze. His voice dropped even lower. “With my life.”

“Then maybe it’s time you stop hiding behind shadows and let someone actually see you.”

Cassian whistled low. “Damn. Rhys came in therapist-mode today.”

Azriel ignored that. He stood, sheathing the dagger with a sharp motion, wings rustling as he adjusted his leathers. “I’m not afraid of her ink,” he said. “But it’s not a joke. That magic marks you in ways you can’t always predict.”

“She’d never hurt you,” Mor said softly, her laughter gone.

“I know.”

Rhys gave him a look, steady, quiet. “You’ll have a little time before the meeting in Windhaven. She still keeps the studio near the cliffs?”

Azriel nodded once.

“Then go. Get something small. Let her choose.”

Azriel’s throat bobbed. The shadows curled tighter around his shoulders, like they were shielding him from something he hadn’t admitted aloud yet.

“She’ll make something beautiful,” Mor said, smiling now. “She always does. Even when people don’t think they deserve it.”

He didn’t answer.

Cassian, leaning back smugly, raised his glass in salute. “Just don’t cry if it’s a heart with wings or something. Or worse… flowers.”

Azriel moved so fast the others barely saw it. The dagger whistled through the air and embedded itself in the wall just above Cassian’s head.

Cassian blinked, looked at the blade, then grinned. “That was a yes, I think.”

Amren didn’t even look up from her book. “He’s definitely blushing.”

The wind in Windhaven had a bite to it. Not the crisp kind he’d grown used to in Velaris, this was harsher, edged like broken glass, still carrying the echoes of bloodied training fields and bone-deep obedience.

Azriel didn’t slow his steps as he passed the barracks, though the scent of sweat and iron clung to the air like ghosts. The males training below barely glanced up. Once, he might’ve stood among them. Once, he might’ve bled here, too.

He tugged his leathers tighter around him, wings shifting as he moved through the narrow streets that wound down toward the cliff’s edge.

He hadn't wanted to come early. And he hadn't wanted to come here.

Windhaven had always sat wrong in his chest, not just because of the memories, but because of what it represented. What it had tried to make of him. Of all of them.

Being Illyrian had shaped him, yes, but it wasn’t something he was proud of. Not like Rhysand’s court. Not like the changes they’d built with blood and sweat and battle cries. He wasn’t ashamed of where he came from, not exactly... but he sure as hell had no desire to celebrate it. To wear it carved into his skin.

That’s why he’d never gotten a tattoo in Windhaven. Until now, maybe. Maybe not. He still hadn’t decided. He told himself he just wanted to see her.

The studio sat perched at the edge of the cliffs, just as he remembered. A modest building of storm-grey stone and high glass windows, its painted sign swinging gently in the wind: INK & SOUL. The door was cracked open to let in the salt air. Faint music drifted from within, a soft, lilting melody played on vinyl. Of course.

His shadows curled tighter around his shoulders, whispering that she was inside. Alone. She always was, this time of day.

He stepped inside quietly, letting the door shut behind him with a gentle click.

The studio hadn’t changed.

Clean lines. Light floors. Ink pots organized by both color and magical resonance. A long workbench cluttered with sketches, half-finished charms, and three cold cups of tea in varying states of abandonment.

And there, seated in the soft, golden light that spilled through the western window, was Y/N.

She was barefoot, legs tucked under her as she worked on something delicately precise, brow furrowed in that way he remembered too well. A smudge of silver ink marred her cheek. Her hair was pulled up in a messy knot, and strands had fallen loose to frame her face.

He didn’t say her name. He didn’t have to. Her head snapped up the moment the door clicked, eyes locking with his across the room. A beat of silence. Then she smiled, not surprised. Not teasing. Just soft. Familiar. Real.

“You’re early,” she said, setting down her stylus. “The meeting isn’t until tomorrow.”

“I know.” His voice came rougher than he meant it to. He cleared it. “Thought I’d walk the cliffs. Check the perimeter.”

“And thought you’d just happen to walk into my studio on the way?” she asked, arching a brow.

“I remembered you make good tea.”

That earned him a snort. “Liar.” But she was already rising, moving towards him to wrap her arms around him. Azriel immediately relaxed as he felt her cheek pushing against his chest. And still, wrapped in Azriel’s arms, she asked, “You still like the cinnamon bark one?”

He hesitated and then let go of her “Yeah.”

A pause.

“Where are your companions?” she asked, turning to the stove as she boiled water with a flick of her fingers.

“They’re outside, keeping watch. They don’t like Windhaven.”

“Neither do I.”

That made his lips twitch, almost a smile. He watched her move with that same fluid ease he remembered, like her body always had one foot in magic and the other in steel. She hadn’t changed, not really. Older, yes. More powerful. More certain of herself in a way he’d always envied. But she was still her.

He’d missed her.

They used to be inseparable. Two ghosts in a court of stars. She was Mor’s friend first, yes, but she had always made space for him. For his silences. For his darkness. And he had clung to that without ever asking why.

“I almost didn’t come,” he said quietly.

She handed him a mug, then leaned against the counter beside him. “Because of Windhaven?”

He nodded once. She didn’t press. Didn’t prod. Just sipped her tea and let the silence settle comfortably between them.

And that was why he had come.

Because she didn’t ask him to be more than he was. Didn’t ask for answers he wasn’t ready to give. And because, even now, centuries later, with magic singing beneath her skin and power laced into every breath she took... she never looked at him like he was broken.

“But I came because I knew I’d get to see you again,” Azriel said, quietly.

Y/N stilled beside him.

Not dramatically. Not like she didn’t know what to do with his words. Just a slow pause, the kind that said she heard them. Felt the weight of them.

Her eyes stayed on the swirling tea in her hands. “It’s been a while.”

He nodded. “Too long.”

She gave a small smile. “You could’ve written.”

“I could’ve.”

He didn’t explain. Didn’t need to. They both knew what letters between them would’ve looked like, all restraint and formality and things neither of them were brave enough to say.

She curled one leg beneath her, shifting to face him more fully. “How have you been?”

Azriel stared down into his tea for a moment, watching the way the cinnamon strands swirled like smoke.

“I’ve been... busy,” he said. “Missions. Court politics. You know how it is.”

Her eyes flicked to him and then softened. “That’s not what I asked.”

He looked at her then. Really looked.

There was a time, long ago, when she had been the only person who ever asked him that. Not what he was doing, or what he’d accomplished, or how useful he was. Just how he was.

“Some days are easier than others,” he said after a pause.

Y/N reached for a jar of honey on the counter and stirred some into her tea, slowly. Thoughtfully. “That sounds like an honest answer.”

“I’m trying.”

“You don’t have to try so hard around me.”

That made his throat tighten. She always knew where to press, not to hurt, but to remind him of what he kept buried.

“I know,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Outside the window, the cliffs blurred with gold and grey as the sun lowered, and gulls called in the distance. The studio had gone quiet again, the record having long since finished its song. But neither of them moved to change it.

“Things have been strange lately,” she said after a moment. “The magic’s been... off. Not dangerous, but different. The inks are reacting stronger than they used to.”

Azriel glanced over. “That’s why you didn’t come to the city?”

“Partly,” she admitted. “And partly because I needed time away. The Inner Circle is a lot of energy, even when I love you all.”

He gave a dry chuckle. “We’re exhausting.”

“Especially Cassian,” she said with a smirk.

That got a real smile out of him, brief, but honest. “He’s gotten worse.”

“I believe that.”

They fell into a companionable silence again, the kind only centuries of shared history could afford. Azriel let his shoulders relax by degrees, drinking in the quiet, the warmth, her.

“You used to sit right there, you know,” she murmured, gesturing to the worn cushion beneath him. “Back when I was learning to charm the inks. You'd come back from training, half-dead, and just sit and watch.”

“I didn’t have anywhere else I wanted to be.”

Her breath caught, barely. But he heard it. And she didn’t look away this time when she said, “I liked having you here. I always did.”

Azriel didn’t know what possessed him then, maybe the fading light, maybe the scent of cinnamon and ink and her. Maybe just that ancient ache that had never really left.

He reached out, brushing his fingers gently against a streak of silver on her cheek.

“You’ve got ink on your face.”

She smiled, soft and amused. “I always do.”

And still, neither of them moved. Not away. Not closer. Just sat there, suspended in a moment too long in the making. And for the first time in months, maybe longer, Azriel felt like he could breathe.

Azriel’s hand dropped slowly from her cheek, but he didn’t lean back. Didn’t retreat like he normally would. Instead, his fingers flexed once in his lap. Then again.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” he said finally, voice low and raw. “The tattoo.”

Y/N blinked, surprised, but not shocked. She never was with him. She just... waited.

“I’ve been debating with myself for months,” he went on. “Every time I see the others’ marks, I wonder what mine would be. What yours would see in me. But the thought of letting it happen...”

He shook his head slightly. “I never wanted another tattoo,” he admitted. “Not since I left Windhaven. Not since the ones I earned back then.”

Her gaze drifted, briefly, to his forearms where old Illyrian markings lay half-faded beneath layers of shadows and scar tissue. He didn’t need to explain. She’d seen them before. She knew what they meant.

“They were branding more than art,” he said. “Marks of what I was supposed to be. A soldier. A weapon. Property of a warband that didn’t give a damn about who I was, only what I could kill.”

His voice had gone quiet, nearly lost to the growing wind outside. Shadows stirred around him, flickering like candle smoke, but didn’t lash out. They weren’t angry. Just… present.

“Even after Rhys became High Lord, after everything we’ve changed, I still look at those old markings and remember what it felt like to be nothing. Just another disposable Illyrian bastard they could mold into something obedient. I never wanted anything permanent again.”

Y/N’s tea had gone cold in her hands. She set it aside gently, then looked back to him. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“You don’t have to be.”

“I am anyway.”

Azriel nodded once, eyes distant. “But when I think about you doing it... It’s different. You’re different.”

A pause.

“I trust you,” he added, like it cost him something. But it was also a truth, the kind carved deep and carefully guarded.

Something flickered in her eyes. Not pity. Never pity. Just something deep and warm and steady.

“If you ever decide you want a tattoo,” she said, her voice gentle but unwavering, “I’ll make you one that doesn’t remind you of Windhaven. Not the barracks. Not the old marks. Not the orders they gave you.”

Azriel’s throat bobbed. He didn’t speak. She leaned slightly closer, her knee brushing his. “It’ll be yours,” she said. “Yours alone. Something that reflects who you are, not what they tried to make you.”

Another breath passed between them. Then he murmured, almost afraid to believe it, “Would it still change?”

“If you wanted it to. If you don’t, it won’t.”

Azriel looked down at his scarred hands. Then, softly: “I think I want something that changes.”

Y/N’s brows lifted just slightly, but she didn’t smile. Not quite. Just said, “Then when you’re ready, you know where I’ll be.”

He met her gaze, and there was something fragile and burning in his chest. Something that had nothing to do with ink or war or shadows. Something that looked a lot like hope.

The fire had burned low in the hearth by the time the studio door creaked open again.

Y/N didn’t look up right away. She was curled in the old, paint-splattered armchair near her workbench, sketchbook balanced across her knees, the page half-filled with something wild and winged and still unfinished. The room smelled of ink and wind and lavender oil, the familiar scents of her solitude.

But the shadows told her before he said a word. They slipped in like mist, soft and curious, brushing against her shelves and the worn velvet curtains, pausing briefly at her ankle as if to ask, Is it safe to come home?

And then she felt him. Not his power, not the blade of his strength or the sharp edge of his silence. But the way his presence always wrapped around her like dusk, like the hush before the stars came out.

She glanced up.

Azriel stood just inside the threshold, still in the same leathers he’d worn to the Windhaven meeting earlier that day. His hair was wind-tossed, his jaw shadowed with stubble, and he looked like he hadn’t paused once since flying out from the war camp. There was a smear of ash on his temple, half-forgotten, and his eyes…

Gods.

His eyes were fixed on her with a kind of quiet reverence that made her breath catch in her chest.

“You’re back,” she said softly, closing the sketchbook on her knee.

“I never really left,” he murmured, voice rough around the edges. “Not from here.”

Her heart stumbled, just a little, but she didn’t let it show. Instead, she nodded toward the hearth. “You want to sit?”

He moved without a word, crossing the studio in a few silent strides. The stool by the fire was where he always sat when he came, the one with the indents from his weight and the little cracks in the varnish from her leaving her teacup there too often. He lowered himself onto it now, wings folding carefully, his posture taut with something that hadn’t yet settled.

For a long moment, they just sat in the low glow of the firelight, surrounded by the faint hum of old magic and half-finished designs.

And then he said, “I want the tattoo.”

Y/N turned her head toward him slowly.

She hadn’t expected it. Not tonight. Not after everything, not after centuries of him dancing around the idea, brushing it off with a scoff or a shadow or a clipped subject change. But there was no hesitation in his tone. No guardedness in his face.

Only truth.

“You’re sure?” she asked, gently, no teasing, no push.

Azriel nodded, and the motion was as much surrender as it was confirmation.

“I want something that reminds me of this,” he said, and his voice was softer now, vulnerable in a way that was rare from him. “Of you. Not Windhaven. Not the boy I was before Rhys pulled me out of the war camps. Not the ink they forced into my skin when I was barely more than a weapon.”

Y/N’s gaze dropped to his arms, to the faint, rough lines of the Illyrian warband markings, nearly lost now under centuries of scars and shadows. She remembered what they meant. What they had cost him.

“I hated them for years,” he said quietly, his eyes fixed on the empty spot just below the crook of his elbow. “I still do. Those tattoos weren’t art. They were orders. Reminders of how I was made to obey, to fight, to bleed for people who saw me as nothing.”

Y/N’s heart ached with the weight of it. She said nothing, letting the silence stretch, the kind that made space for grief without rushing it.

“But you,” Azriel went on, and now his voice was steadier, warmer, “You make marks that speak. That feel. Every one of theirs was about control. Yours...” He looked at her. Really looked. “Yours are about freedom.”

She swallowed once, hard.

“If that’s what you want,” she said, standing slowly, “then I’ll make you something that belongs only to you.” Her voice gentled as she crossed to him, fingers brushing along the edge of his rolled-up sleeve. “It’ll be yours. And it won’t remind you of Windhaven. I promise.”

Azriel’s throat worked, his gaze following her hands as she traced a pattern on his arm. His shadows withdrew politely, like they knew, like they trusted her just as much as he did.

“I want it somewhere I can see,” he added after a pause, voice quieter now. “A place I can watch it shift. I want to see your magic work.”

She looked up, meeting his eyes. “Then we’ll put it here,” she said, gently touching the inside of his forearm, just beneath the last of the old markings. “Let it overwrite what came before.”

He nodded once.

The room had quieted.

Azriel sat on the low stool near the fire, his wings folded tightly, tension pulled taut through his shoulders like a bowstring. But he didn’t speak again. Didn’t move. Just watched her.

Y/N stood for a moment, letting the silence wrap around her as she looked at him, really looked. The dim light threw golden shadows across his face, softening the sharp cut of his cheekbones, the harsh set of his mouth. There was something vulnerable in the way he was sitting, as if just being here — being willing — had already cost him more than he’d ever say aloud.

So she didn’t rush it. She never did, with him.

“I’ll need a few minutes to set up,” she said, her voice gentle, steady. “And you’ll need to stay as still as you can once I begin. The magic doesn’t like second-guessing.”

Azriel gave a slow, deliberate nod, but his eyes tracked her every movement.

Y/N turned to her workbench and began the familiar process. She lit three candles first, each one a different color, each flame steady and slow-burning. They weren't for light. They were part of the spell, part of the grounding. Gold for clarity, blue for protection, and the deep violet one, her personal signature, for truth.

Then came the ink.

She chose it from the row of enchanted jars, not the showy ones, but a small sealed vessel she only ever used for a few people. It was silent ink, her magic’s oldest blend, the kind that didn’t speak until it touched the skin, until it knew the soul beneath. She popped the lid and let the scent rise: rain, cedar, something like burnt sugar and wind.

Azriel tilted his head. “It smells like the cliffs.”

She smiled faintly. “That’s you, not the ink.”

Next, she rolled her sleeves up past the elbows and moved toward the basin in the far corner. The water was cool, laced with juniper and salt, and she washed her hands slowly, methodically. Not just to cleanse, but to center.

Behind her, she could feel Azriel’s shadows pulling back, not retreating, exactly, but making space. As if they recognized this moment. As if they didn’t want to intrude.

When her hands were clean and dried, she returned to him. “I need to speak the binding words before I touch you,” she said softly, kneeling before him. “They’re not a promise. Just a... permission. Magic works better when it’s honest.”

Azriel didn’t flinch. He only nodded, the firelight catching in his eyes.

Y/N looked down at his exposed forearm, at the bare patch of skin just below the last of his old Illyrian markings. She laid her hand just above it, not touching, but close enough for the heat of him to meet her palm.

Then she spoke. Her voice was low, almost a whisper, the words more felt than heard.

“By ink and spell, by breath and bone, I ask permission to mark you. To write truth on skin, To let magic remember what soul cannot speak. I will not wound. I will not take. I will only give what you allow.”

The moment hung between them, suspended in something deeper than silence. Azriel looked down at her, and nodded. A single word, spoken barely above breath. “Yes.”

It was enough.

Y/N picked up the needle, her old one, carved from shadowglass and silver, humming faintly in her fingers. It thrummed like a string being plucked, her magic waking in response.

She dipped it into the ink. The mixture shimmered immediately, shifting in color as if it already knew him. Already sensed who he was beneath the centuries and the scars and the silence.

Then she looked up at him once more.

“Are you ready?”

Azriel’s eyes never left hers. “With you? Always.”

So she touched the needle to his skin.

The first stroke bloomed into a line of quiet light, not glowing, not screaming, just living. It curled across his skin like breath, like smoke, like something pulled from the heart of the night sky. She worked slowly, deliberately, letting the ink listen, letting it learn.

And as it grew, as the pattern revealed itself in real time, Azriel sat still, utterly still. The only giveaway was the slight parting of his lips, the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed. Awe was a quiet thing on him. But it was there.

She could feel it in the stillness. In his trust. In the way he let her carve beauty into a place that had only ever known war.

When the last curve was finished and the final drop of ink sank into his skin, Y/N drew back just a little, careful not to break the moment.

Azriel looked down. And stared.

The design shimmered faintly, a shifting echo of wings folded in flight, of starfire trailing through dusk, a piece of him, yes, but also her. Her magic. Her knowing. The parts of him she’d always seen and never spoken aloud.

“It’s beautiful,” he whispered.

Her heart ached at the way he said it, like he didn’t think he deserved something beautiful carved into him at all.

“It’s you,” she said gently. “Not the part they branded. The part you never let anyone name.”

The ink pulsed then, just once in time with his heartbeat. And then again, when she said, “It’ll shift when you feel something. When you remember. Or when you forget.”

Azriel’s eyes met hers. “And if I miss you?”

Her throat tightened. But she didn’t flinch. “It’ll show that, too.”

He nodded once, then looked back down at the mark and didn’t look away for a long time. Azriel didn’t speak for a long moment.

His gaze stayed on the mark etched into his skin, the shifting lines and gentle flickers of light, the subtle threads of magic winding through the ink like it was alive. It didn’t glow exactly, but it breathed. As if it was a living memory of the moment it had been made.

Then, quietly like he was afraid of breaking whatever this was, he said, “When does your magic show up?”

Y/N tilted her head slightly. “It already has.”

He looked at her then, eyes dark and steady. “I mean… you. When does your part of it show?”

Her lips curved at that, a small, honest smile. “It depends,” she said, standing slowly to stretch out her legs, then settling beside him on the low cushions, close but not quite touching. “Every fae reacts differently. Mor’s tattoo, for example, it glows when she lies.”

Azriel blinked. “Does it really though?”

Y/N huffed a soft laugh. “Mm-hm. Drives her crazy. She says it flickers every time she tells Rhys she definitely didn’t steal the last piece of cake.”

He let out a low breath that might’ve been a laugh, something warm and tired at the edges.

“I didn’t choose that for her,” Y/N added, more serious now. “That’s what the magic gave her. I only channeled it.”

“She’s always been a white liar,” Azriel murmured.

“I know,” she said, voice gentling. “And she’s also honest in the ways that matter. The magic doesn’t judge, it just sees what’s there. Mor needed something to remind her that her truth was enough.”

Azriel was quiet for a beat. Then: “So what will mine do?”

Y/N glanced down at his forearm, at the dark ink still settling, its edges cooling, the spell binding as softly as silk.

“I don’t know yet,” she admitted. “It’ll change with you. It listens.”

He stared at the mark like it might whisper to him, even now. “Will it hurt?” he asked, not of the magic. Of what came next. Of being seen.

Y/N shook her head. “No. But it might surprise you.”

Azriel looked up, something raw and open flickering across his face. “And if it shows something I don’t like?”

Y/N didn’t flinch. “Then we’ll cover it with something new. Or we’ll sit with it until you see it differently. It’s not a verdict, Azriel. It’s a conversation.”

He exhaled, almost shakily. Then, slowly, he turned his forearm in the firelight, and the tattoo shimmered faintly, a flicker of red just beneath the linework, like embers banked under ash.

It hadn’t done that before. His eyes widened. “Did you see?”

“I did.” Y/N’s voice was soft. “That’s you. Already changing.”

Azriel went still again. But this time, it wasn’t the stiffness of fear, it was reverence. A silent awe that crept into his posture, quieted the restless shadows around him. Like something ancient and aching had been given shape and for once, it didn’t weigh him down.

It anchored him.

“Thank you,” he said at last, his voice hoarse.

Y/N looked at him, really looked and her own magic thrummed in response, warm and steady. “You trusted me,” she whispered. “That’s all I ever wanted.”

And beside the fire, beneath old stars and older memories, the ink on his skin pulsed once more. Alive. And listening.

The House of Wind greeted Azriel like an old ghost, quiet, familiar, a little colder than he remembered. Not in temperature, but in stillness.

Velaris was always full of life. But here, high above the world, there was space to breathe. Space to think. And gods, after two days in Windhaven, he needed that.

The meeting had gone as expected, tense, brittle, filled with puffed-up Illyrian warlords trying not to choke on the new world they'd been dragged into. Rhys had done most of the talking. Azriel had simply watched. Calculated. Endured.

But it was the moment before he left, her hand brushing his forearm, a soft Let me know if it changes whispered like a secret between breaths, that lingered now, echoing louder than any threat in that war tent.

He didn’t head straight to his room. Instead, he found himself drifting toward the training balcony where Cassian was cooling down, sweat-slick and breathing hard, swords glinting on the rack behind him.

Cassian looked up and grinned when he saw him. “Back already? And here I thought you’d find an excuse to avoid the flight back and hole up in Windhaven.”

Azriel raised a brow. “It’s a miracle I made it out without punching anyone.”

“Pity. I was hoping for gossip.” Cassian slung a towel over his shoulder. “But damn… what’s that?”

Azriel blinked. “What’s what?”

Cassian stepped closer, motioning toward Azriel’s forearm, which was bare where he’d rolled up his sleeve against the wind. “That’s new. That wasn’t there before you left.”

Azriel followed his gaze and froze.

The tattoo. It was pulsing softly, slow waves of light moving through the ink like tides under a full moon. Faint but distinct, like shadows stirred by thought.

Cassian leaned in, brows raised. “Wait, is this what I think it is? Is that Y/N’s work?”

Azriel didn’t answer immediately.

He turned his arm over in the light. Watched how the curves of the ink shimmered and curled like smoke. It wasn’t glowing outright, but it was... active. Breathing, almost. Alive in the way her magic always felt. Like her fingers were still ghosting across his skin.

Cassian’s grin widened. “You actually let her do it.”

Azriel finally nodded. “Last night.”

Cassian let out a low whistle. “And how’d it feel?”

Azriel thought for a moment. The hum of her magic. The way her voice wrapped around him during the binding words. Her touch, not hesitant, not afraid, steady as always.

“Like I was coming home,” he murmured.

Cassian’s teasing faded for a moment. Something softened in his expression. “Yeah,” he said. “That tracks.”

Then, ever the menace, he smirked. “So... what does it do? Mine nearly burns when I’m about to do something reckless. What’s yours?”

“I don’t know yet,” Azriel said, but even as he did, the ink on his arm brightened again, just faintly.

Cassian narrowed his eyes. “Wait. That... that just reacted.”

Azriel stiffened.

Cassian’s smirk deepened. “What were you thinking about just now?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. Try again.” Cassian crossed his arms. “Say I think about Nesta, mine glows red because apparently that counts as reckless and impulsive.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “It’s not that simple…”

“Y/N.”

The name dropped like a stone between them. The tattoo flared.

Not blinding, not loud, just a swell of shadow-threaded light. A silver curl unwinding like breath, the pattern blooming slightly outward. Almost like wings shifting beneath skin. Like longing.

Azriel looked down at it, jaw tight. He hadn’t even said anything. He’d just heard her name.

Cassian blinked. “Well, shit.”

Azriel said nothing.

Because now that he saw it, really saw it, he realized the pattern had shifted even more than before. Where it had been steady on the flight back, now it pulsed gently, as if stirred to wakefulness. Her magic responding to him. To his thoughts. To his feelings.

Cassian was watching him now, all that smugness gone, replaced by something quieter. “It’s her. Isn’t it? That’s what it’s showing.”

Azriel swallowed hard. “It reacts when I think about her.”

“And you’ve been thinking about her a lot.”

The silence said everything he didn’t.

Cassian let out a slow breath. “You know… maybe the magic’s not just listening to you. Maybe it’s trying to show you something you haven’t said out loud yet.”

Azriel didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.

The mark on his arm shimmered again, soft as moonlight on water, steady as a heartbeat. Alive. Still changing. Still listening.

And somewhere far from here, he knew, without question, that she could feel it too.

Later that night, long after the House of Wind had gone still and even the shadows seemed to sleep, Azriel sat by the window, the cool breeze threading through his hair, eyes fixed on the city below. But his thoughts... they were somewhere else entirely.

His fingers brushed the edge of the tattoo again. The ink moved faintly, shadows and light dancing beneath the surface like it was breathing. Like it was listening.

He’d been thinking about her all evening. About the way her hands had been steady, deliberate as she cleaned her tools. About the warmth in her eyes as she spoke the binding words. How she hadn’t flinched when she’d asked, "Do you trust me?"

He had. He always had. He hadn’t fallen for her because of magic. Or beauty. Or any one reason, really. It had just... happened. Quietly. Like sunrise bleeding over a battlefield.

One day, she was Mor’s best friend, a steady presence with ink-stained fingers and sharp comebacks, who could drink Cassian under the table and scold Amren without blinking. The next... she was more. A comfort he hadn’t asked for. A warmth he didn’t know he’d missed until she gave it freely.

It wasn’t a bond. There was no thread pulling him to her, no cosmic sign or glowing tether tying their fates together. Just love. Simple. Earned slowly, stubbornly, over years of watching her live, watching her fight for her place, for her craft, for her people.

He loved her because she didn’t ask him to be anything other than what he was. Because she didn’t fill silence with questions. Because she saw past the shadows without needing to name them. And maybe that was why he’d never told her. Because love like that was fragile. It had no magic to anchor it. No bond to make it inevitable. It was something he had to choose.

And gods, he had chosen her again and again in a thousand small, quiet ways. But he’d also let her go. Because Windhaven wasn’t a place he wanted to stay, and she, for all her travels, for all her rebellion, still called it home. Her roots were tangled in its cliffs and pine-slick hills, in the family she’d carved out and the work she’d built with her own hands.

Azriel had spent most of his life trying to escape Windhaven. And he hadn’t known how to love someone who stayed. So he held back. Told himself she deserved more. Someone whose silences didn’t come wrapped in trauma. Someone who didn’t disappear into missions and shadows.

But when her magic bloomed on his skin, soft and steady, changing shape with every thought of her… He began to wonder if maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe love didn’t need to be shouted, or fate-marked, or promised by the Cauldron to be real. Maybe it just had to be felt. Chosen. Again and again. And maybe it was time he stopped loving her in silence.

Azriel looked down at the tattoo one last time before rising from the window bench, the ink still glowing faintly, not because of magic. But because he was finally, finally ready to stop hiding it. Not from her. Not from the others. Not from himself.

Windhaven was quiet tonight. The storm that had threatened all afternoon had passed without incident, leaving the air sharp with pine and the earthy scent of rain on stone. Y/N sat curled up on the worn armchair in her small apartment above the studio, sketchbook balanced on her knee, charcoal smudged across her fingertips. A single candle flickered beside her, casting soft gold across the cluttered desk and half-drawn designs scattered across the floor.

She had been sketching absentmindedly, lines more emotion than intent, when the warmth started. A low pulse beneath her skin, faint but unmistakable.

She stilled. Her gaze drifted to her arm. The tattoo, one of the earliest she’d ever done, a band of intricate sigils and night-blooming flowers, shimmered faintly. Nothing unusual at first. But then… the shadows came.

Dark tendrils, delicate and slow, coiling lazily through the ink like smoke through glass. Not threatening. Not violent. Just… present. Alive.

Her breath caught. It hadn’t moved in decades. Not since she’d inked it on herself during a reckless night of youth and magic, the kind that leaves scars in the best way. It had always been dormant. Her magic, like her emotions, was usually still, precise, controlled.

But now, shadows laced through the design like veins. Her magic stirred with it, humming low in her bones. She didn’t need to guess why. She knew. Azriel.

No one else moved like this. No one else felt like this. His magic wasn’t fire or wind or ice. It was subtle. Patient. Ancient. She’d known it like a second heartbeat for most of her life.

And even now, after all this time, it recognized her ink. Just as she’d always recognized the silence he wrapped around himself like armor.

Y/N stared at her arm, heart thudding softly in her chest. He was back in Velaris by now. She knew that. The meeting had ended yesterday.

She hadn't expected anything more. He had said goodbye the night before, not with words, but in that quiet, reverent way he had of lingering just a little too long at the door. Of looking at her like he was memorizing the way she stood in the light.

And now this. The tattoo shimmered again, the shadows growing bolder, weaving in and out of the petals like breath.

Her pulse sped. She reached for a piece of stationery, inked her name at the top, then paused, fingers hovering above the page.

Was she imagining it? No. Her magic never moved like this without cause. Without a reason. And Azriel had always been the one person it never got wrong.

She dipped the pen again and began to write. She sealed the letter with a practiced flick of her wrist and sent it with a whisper to the wind, the small, enchanted winnow she kept for private post vanishing with a spark of ink and pine-scented air.

And then she sat there in the silence of her apartment, fingers still smudged with charcoal, her heart heavier than she wanted to admit. She didn’t know what she expected. But she knew this: her magic was changing and somehow, so was his.

Azriel,

I hope you made it home safely. I was going to give it a few days before checking in, but something… shifted tonight.

One of my tattoos is acting up, one that’s never done anything like this before. It’s moving. Breathing. And there are shadows in it.

Yours, I think.

Don’t worry, I’m not alarmed. Just curious. It’s probably nothing. But I thought I should ask: Are you alright?

Yours, —Y/N

Azriel read the letter once. Then again.

The shadows on his shoulders curled closer, as if reading over his arm, peering at the graceful slope of her handwriting , that neat, elegant script he could’ve recognized with his eyes closed.

He sat in the library of the House of Wind, the fading light of dusk pooling around him. No fire. No wine. Just the hush of parchment and the tattoo on his forearm slowly shifting shape again, coiling into a pattern he hadn’t seen before. One of her favorite flower sigils, if he wasn’t mistaken. Something soft-bloomed, fragile. Gentian, maybe. Or hellebore.

It didn’t matter. They kept changing. Because he kept thinking about her.

He lifted his arm and watched it for a long moment. The way her magic stirred when she came to mind. The way the lines shimmered softly beneath his skin, shadows dancing through them like light through silk.

It hadn’t stopped since he’d left Windhaven.

She hadn’t done it on purpose, he knew that. Her magic was sensitive, yes, and intuitive in a way that still unsettled him. But it didn’t lie. It responded only to what already was. No manipulation. No spell to coax it. Just truth.

And now, apparently, it was responding to him. Or maybe… to how he felt.

Azriel leaned back against the chair, jaw tight. He wasn’t sure if he liked it. The unpredictability. The exposure. He’d always prided himself on being unreadable. Silent. Controlled.

But this thing, this inked window into his thoughts, it wasn’t silent at all. And now hers was acting up too. Somehow tethered. Somehow aware.

He should have expected it. She’d always seen more than he meant to give.

“Are you alright?” she’d written.

No. Not really. Not since the moment he left her studio and realized the only thing he wanted to do was turn around and walk back in. His fingers curled around the letter, thumb pressing into the fold.

He wasn’t ready to explain everything. He didn’t know how to explain it, how her presence had settled into him, how every breath since he'd left Windhaven felt like it carried her name. But he could give her something. A reason to come closer. Not too close. Just close enough.

He reached for fresh paper, shadows quiet for once, as if holding their breath.

Y/N,

Thank you for the letter. I arrived home safely, though I admit I haven’t quite stopped thinking about the studio.

The tattoo you mentioned… might be reacting to mine. I don’t know what that means, or why it’s happening, but my mark hasn’t stopped shifting since I left.

If you’re curious or if you’d like to see it for yourself, you’re welcome to come to Velaris. I wouldn’t mind if you looked at it. Or even changed it, if you think that would help.

It’s behaving… oddly.

But it’s beautiful.

—A

He sealed the letter and sent it with a whisper to the wind, not through magic, but through the shadows themselves. They scattered with the message, low and fast, slipping into night like birds toward a familiar home.

Azriel sat back in the empty room, heart steady, gaze on the soft swirl of ink across his arm. He didn’t know what she would say. Or whether she would come. But for the first time in a long while… he hoped she would. And he didn’t dare ask himself why. Not yet.

Velaris welcomed her like an old song.

The wind off the Sidra was warmer here, fragrant with summer blossoms and river stone. Even the hum of magic along the city’s ley lines felt gentler, finer like silk pulled tight across harp strings. Y/N stood near the cliffs, close to the House of Wind, one hand gripping the strap of her bag, the other pressed briefly to her chest as if to still the quiet thunder of her heart.

It had been months.

Longer since she'd been here without reason, without a task or meeting. But this… this felt different. Not because of the tattoo. Not entirely. Because of him.

A familiar pulse moved through her magic, low and grounding. Shadows. Soft as a memory. She exhaled and stepped down into the city.

Rhysand was already waiting near the House of Wind, his dark hair swept back, violet eyes kind in the afternoon light.

“Y/N,” he greeted, arms open as she walked toward him. “You’ve been away too long.”

She laughed into his chest as he hugged her tightly. “You’re just saying that because Mor complains every time I miss a wine night.”

“Well, there’s that,” he said, pulling back to look at her. “And because it’s good to have you home.”

Home. She wasn’t sure when Velaris had started to feel like that, maybe always. Maybe because it was the only place outside Windhaven where no one asked her to be more than she was. Rhys had never treated her like a lesser Illyrian. Neither had Feyre or Cassian. Or Mor, of course. And Azriel… well.

She tucked that thought away.

“You look tired,” Rhys said softly, guiding her toward the townhouse steps. “Have you been working too hard again?”

She smirked. “I’ve been tattooing war generals. You tell me.”

His grin turned rueful. “Fair.”

But his gaze flicked to her bag. “Did you come because of the letter Azriel sent?”

Y/N nodded once. “The magic in my mark hasn’t settled. It’s... still moving.”

Rhys studied her for a breath longer, that High Lord stillness settling over his features. Not as a ruler, but as a friend. “You don’t have to tell me more. Just know you’re safe here. Always.”

“I know.” Her voice softened. “Thank you.”

And then she felt it. Before she turned. Before she even looked. A familiar shadow brushed against her ankle, like a greeting.

And when she turned, Azriel was already there, just a step down the path, wings tucked, shadows slinking along his shoulders in quiet arcs. His eyes caught hers like a thread pulled taut.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. She crossed the space between them in three strides.

Azriel folded her into a hug without hesitation, arms wrapping around her as if this was the only place he’d been waiting to be. It wasn’t a hurried thing. Not a polite, passing embrace.

He held her like she was real, like her presence had the power to anchor something he hadn't realized was drifting.

“I see you missed me even after a few days,” she murmured into his shoulder, smiling against the dark leather of his tunic.

“I always do,” he replied quietly, voice just for her.

Y/N pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him, to see the soft flicker in his eyes that he probably didn’t know was there.

Her fingers brushed against his arm, just above the cuff of his sleeve. “How’s your tattoo behaving?”

“Unpredictably,” he said with a breath of wry amusement.

Her eyes sparkled. “Good. Then before we sit down for dinner and you all try to fatten me up with wine and cake, I’d like to take a look at my patient.”

Azriel’s lips twitched, a rare, real smile and something in his chest loosened.

Rhys chuckled behind them. “Feyre will be thrilled you’re here. She’s already set the table.”

“I’ll be there soon,” Y/N said over her shoulder. But her eyes were still on Azriel.

The man she had known since she was young. The shadowsinger who had always looked at her like she wasn’t an Illyrian misfit or a magical oddity, but someone worth waiting for.

And this time, maybe… she wouldn’t make him wait so long.

Upstairs, the shadows peeled back from the walls, as if giving them space.

Azriel led her to one of the guest rooms, the one she always used when she stayed at the House of Wind. It smelled faintly of lavender and old paper. Someone had left a vase of wildflowers on the writing desk, her favorites. She smiled at that, brushing her fingers over the petals.

“It hasn’t changed,” she said softly.

“It never will,” Azriel replied, watching her from the doorway, arms crossed. “Rhys said this room is yours for as long as you want it.”

Y/N turned to face him, warmth in her eyes, but she didn’t speak. Instead, she set down her satchel and pulled out a small velvet pouch, supplies. No magic, not yet. Just the tools she always carried with her.

“Let me see it?” she asked.

Azriel hesitated for a second, then moved toward the chaise by the window and sat, tugging off the sleeve of his tunic. The shadows scattered at her approach but lingered close, like quiet sentries. As if they trusted her as much as he did.

And there it was, the tattoo she'd created for him. Only now… it looked nothing like it had two days ago.

The lines shifted in subtle, delicate movements, blooming, curling, re-shaping with a grace that wasn’t hers, not exactly. Her magic had simply responded to something in him. His thoughts. His heart.

Y/N crouched in front of him, elbows resting lightly on her knees as she studied it. “You weren’t exaggerating,” she said after a beat, voice low with awe. “It’s almost… alive.”

Azriel didn’t respond. His gaze was steady, trained on her, not the tattoo. She cleared her throat, looked away. “I could make some changes,” she offered, fingers brushing the air just above the ink. “Dampen the sensitivity. Slow the reaction time.”

Azriel’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t look away. “Do you want to change it?”

She blinked. “What?”

He shook his head slightly, voice quiet. “You made it. With your magic. If I asked you to change it now, would it feel like… rewriting a truth?”

Y/N stared at him. The way he said it, so careful, so reverent. Her heart gave a slow, uneven beat.

“I can make it quieter,” she said finally. “But it will still be yours. Still from me.”

Azriel nodded. “Tomorrow then. After dinner.”

She raised a brow. “You’re sure?”

“I am.” His voice deepened, almost like a challenge. “You’ll need the night off. I heard Mor’s already planning to drag you to that new rooftop lounge.”

Y/N huffed a laugh. “Of course she is.”

Azriel’s smile was faint but real. “I’m not the only one who missed you, you know.”

Her throat tightened a little at that. The honesty in his tone. The affection wrapped in simplicity.

“I missed Velaris,” she said quietly, rising to her feet. “More than I thought I would. Every time I leave, it’s harder to stay away.”

Azriel stood too, and for a moment, they were close enough that their shadows nearly touched.

His voice dropped lower. “Maybe that means something.”

She looked up at him, and the tension between them sparked again, unspoken, steady, ancient. Like something old and soft and waiting. Her fingers twitched at her sides, aching to touch him again, to see what the magic would say if she did.

But instead, she smiled gently, ruefully and stepped back.

“I’ll let Mor steal me for a few hours,” she said. “But tomorrow, I’m all yours.”

Azriel didn’t smile. Didn’t tease. He only nodded once.

“I’ll be here.”

And gods help her, she wanted him to be.

Her fingers hovered just above his skin again, the tattoo alive and quiet for now, though it had flared once when she’d first entered the room, before Azriel had even spoken. Y/N pretended not to notice.

“I take it you’ve figured out what it’s responding to?” she asked lightly. Her tone was casual, like they were just talking about the weather.

Azriel kept his eyes on her hands, on the curve of her wrist where faint ink shimmered under her skin. Her own old tattoo, the one she’d done centuries ago. The one she’d never touched again.

“I haven’t figured it out yet,” he said evenly.

A pause. A half-second beat too long.

Y/N didn’t lift her head. Didn’t call him out. But something in her magic whispered differently.

Because ever since she’d inked him, since she’d poured part of herself into his skin, since his shadows had curled so trustingly around her wrist mid-ritual, her own tattoo had been restless. Not reactive like Mor’s or Cassian’s. But unsettled. Shifting. It never had before.

The first time it moved was the night she got home to Windhaven. She hadn’t been thinking about anything special. Just unpacking her satchel. And then, suddenly, shadows had stirred at her skin. Like they missed someone. Like he had been thinking of her.

So now, when he said, “I haven’t figured it out yet,” Y/N only nodded.

“Interesting,” she murmured. “Sometimes the magic keeps its secrets. It’s not always meant to be understood.”

Azriel said nothing to that.

She glanced up at him, saw the way his jaw tensed, how the shadows pooled a little tighter around him. That tattoo, the one she’d etched into his skin with so much care, flickered faintly again, almost like a heartbeat.

She didn’t call him on it. Not yet. Instead, she smiled and reached for her travel bag. “All right,” she said, rising to her feet. “Let’s head to dinner. I bet they’re all wondering what we’re up to in here. And once I come back with Mor, you’re mine for a few hours.”

And as she left the room to go freshen up, she placed a steady hand over her own arm, right where her oldest tattoo had started to hum again. The shadows were back. And no matter what Azriel said… she knew.

The House of Wind was quiet when Y/N slipped back inside, the distant city lights of Velaris shimmering like scattered stars below. Mor’s laughter still echoed faintly in her ears from their night out, a warm buzz settling in her chest. The wine had loosened her usual careful restraint, made her braver than she expected.

She moved silently through the wide hallways, her footsteps soft on the polished stone floors. The faint glow from the crescent moon filtered through the tall windows, casting silver ribbons across the walls.

She paused at the door of the great bathroom, a cavernous space, tiled in deep blues and greens, with a tub large enough to fit the entire Bat trio comfortably. Through the small opening in the door, she could see the water shimmered quietly, a scattering of bubbles drifting lazily across the surface.

Azriel was there, half-submerged in the enormous tub, water rippling around him, shadows clinging to his skin like living smoke. His dark hair was damp and plastered back, his eyes catching the moonlight with that unreadable intensity she’d known for centuries.

The wine was speaking for Y/N, as it seemed. Her hand found the fancy looking doorknob, pressing the door fully open. He looked up as she entered, brow arched in surprise but with no real surprise in his expression. No defense, no walls raised.

“You’re home late,” he said, voice low, calm.

Y/N smiled, a little wickedly. “And you’re exactly where I thought I’d find you.” She sat down beside the tub, dipping her fingers into the water and playing with the bubbles, watching them burst softly at her touch.

Her eyes met his, sharp and warm all at once. “I think I might know when your tattoo changes.”

Azriel’s gaze darkened, but he said nothing.

“You can be honest with me,” she teased gently, voice soft but firm.

He watched her for a long moment. The shadows around his arm, the tattoo, flickered faintly, subtle ripples of magic that no one but her could see.

“Not yet,” he finally said, voice barely above a whisper.

The silence stretched between them, soft, pulsing, heavy with the kind of weight that wasn’t burden but pull.

Y/N didn’t speak. Neither did Azriel. But his eyes never left her. They traced over her, the edge of her jaw where a strand of hair clung from the night breeze, the way the moonlight kissed her cheekbones, and lower still… the sweep of the midnight dress she still wore from her outing with Mor. It clung to her curves like it had been painted on, riding up her thighs just enough to make his breathing tighten.

Y/N noticed. She saw the subtle twitch of his jaw, the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed. She saw the flicker of movement under the skin of his neck, his pulse, beating just a little too fast.

And gods, she couldn’t stop staring at him either.

The bubbles in the water were beginning to thin. The surface cleared in slow, lazy swirls of disappearing foam, and bit by bit, more of him was revealed. His chest, broad and carved with muscle, shimmered under the shifting water. The tattoo on his arm pulsed faintly, dancing shadows stirring across inked skin.

Y/N’s breath caught somewhere in her throat.

She let the wine speak for her. Without breaking eye contact, she shifted slowly, purposefully, and swung both legs over the rim of the bath. Her dress rode higher as she settled on the ledge, knees bent, feet dipped into the warm water. The silk brushed her thighs, clinging a little too tightly now that the steam was curling around her.

Azriel didn’t look away. Not when her legs entered the water. Not when the hem of her dress hiked higher. Not when her toes bumped gently against his thigh under the surface.

Her voice was barely a whisper when she finally said, “You’re staring.”

His lips parted, not in apology, not in denial. The heat in his gaze was unmistakable now, simmering beneath the careful mask he always wore.

“You walked in here,” he said, voice low and rough, “dressed like that, sat there like that... and you expected me not to?”

Her heart fluttered, no, soared, at the sound of that voice. The honesty of it. The tension curled thick in the air, tighter and tighter, wrapping around her spine like a cord ready to snap. She tilted her head, her voice velvet-smooth. “Maybe I was hoping you would.”

His eyes darkened. The water shifted around him. The tattoo on his arm pulsed once, bright enough that the shadows nearby trembled.

The silence between them stretched taut, every breath crackling with something ancient, something that had lived quietly for centuries in the spaces between glances, in the brushes of hands that lingered a second too long.

Azriel’s gaze dropped to her legs in the water, then back to her face. Shadows curled lazily around him, stirred by something more primal than caution now.

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, maybe to challenge him again, maybe to say his name like a question, but she never got the chance.

Because in a fluid motion, fast and unhesitating, Azriel surged forward and pulled her into the tub.

A sharp gasp tore from her lips as the warm water soaked through her dress, the silk clinging to every inch of skin it touched. She barely had a moment to register the shock of it before she was in his lap, his strong hands on her waist, holding her there like she belonged.

Water sloshed around them, and laughter, real, breathless laughter bubbled out of her chest.

“Azriel,” she choked, batting water from her eyes. “You absolute menace, this dress…”

“Will dry,” he said lowly, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. His voice dropped, thick with heat. “You’ve been driving me insane all night.”

“Oh, just tonight?” she asked, raising a brow, trying, and failing, not to lean into him. Her soaked dress was plastered to her body, but she didn’t care. Not when his hands were sliding up her back like he’d mapped her in another life.

“No,” he said, eyes flicking to her mouth. “Since the Summer Solstice festival. The one where you dared Mor to enchant my boots to squeak every time I walked.”

Y/N burst into laughter, the memory crashing over her like a wave. “I forgot about that!”

“I didn’t,” he muttered, voice full of mock indignation and something else beneath it, something softer. “I had to walk through a High Lord’s meeting sounding like a bloody duckling.”

She was grinning now, utterly undone, water dripping from her hair as she reached up to brush wet strands from his forehead. “You looked so serious, too. Every time someone turned to look, you scowled harder.”

“I was trying to impress Thesan,” he growled.

“You failed so hard,” she giggled, settling more comfortably in his lap, thighs bracketing his hips now. “But I laughed so hard I cried.”

Azriel’s fingers tightened at her waist.

“That’s the moment I knew,” he said quietly, his voice suddenly rawer. “That I was never going to be able to stop loving you.”

The laughter stilled in her throat. Her breath caught.

She searched his face, his golden-brown eyes, the soft parting of his lips, the vulnerability in the way his shadows had gone completely still around them.

“Az…” she whispered.

He didn’t give her time to answer. Just leaned in, slowly, reverently, and kissed her like he’d been waiting centuries to do it. Like he couldn’t bear not to anymore.

And when she kissed him back, drenched in moonlight, silk, and magic, everything inside them both finally, finally quieted.

The kiss deepened, slow and searching, Azriel’s mouth moving over hers like he’d memorized the shape of her want. Water sloshed gently around them, the city lights shimmering through the glass as if Velaris itself was holding its breath.

When he pulled back, it was only to look at her, really look at her. His hands stayed at her waist, thumbs brushing bare skin just beneath the soaked edge of her bodice. His eyes flicked down, lingering on how the silk clung to her chest, her ribs, the perfect lines of her legs still half-submerged. His breath caught.

“Gods, Y/N,” he rasped, voice gone hoarse, reverent. “You’re…” He shook his head slightly, like the words failed him, like his vocabulary had narrowed down to just her name. “I was brooding in here, hoping that no other male would take off that dress of your body.”

She didn’t speak, didn’t need to. Her hands found the collar of his bare shoulders, sliding down the planes of his chest underwater, and when she shifted in his lap, his grip flexed, sharp and possessive at her hips.

“So glad, that it’s going to be me,” he murmured, and before she could answer, his fingers found the hem of her soaked dress and began to lift.

She raised her arms for him, breath hitching, and he peeled the silk up, inch by slow inch. The fabric clung to her like a second skin, reluctant to leave. When it finally slipped free over her head, he cast it to the side of the bath without a glance.

And then he just looked.

She sat there, bare before him, glistening with water and moonlight, her chest rising and falling in shallow, stunned breaths.

Azriel didn’t touch her.

Not yet.

His gaze roamed over every inch of her skin, slow, worshipful, devouring, and shadows curled up his arms like they couldn’t decide if they wanted to join in or give her privacy.

“You have no idea,” he said softly, almost to himself, “how long I’ve wanted to see you like this.”

Her pulse thrummed in her throat. She felt it, felt the way he was holding himself back, barely, the tension radiating from his stillness. Like she was something sacred, something he wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch, but would gladly spend eternity memorizing with his eyes alone.

“You can touch,” she whispered, emboldened, her voice a little shaky.

But Azriel only smiled, slow, aching, full of something deeper than want.

“I’m not in a rush,” he said, voice gravel and shadow and heat. “You deserve more than hurried hands and stolen breaths.”

And gods, if that didn’t make her heart catch fire.

Her hands started to roam across his chest, her fingertips tracing the pattern of his tattoo. Y/N could feel him shifting beneath her, his heartbeat was rising, pulsing stronger every second her fingers traced lower and lower.

Azriel’s hands wrapped around her wrist right before her hands reached the surface. He looked smug, his hands holding Y/N’s against his chest. She’s messily sprawled across his naked body when he pulls his legs closer, causing her to glide closer to his already hard member.

“You feel this?” he rasped with a smug smile on his lips, shifting until she sat like a fitting peace of puzzle on his hips. “That’s how crazy you’re driving me. And if you let me, I’ll make you feel so good.”

His soft command made her heart flutter and Y/N’s thighs squeezed subconsciously under the water. A rush of anticipation flowed through her veins, wondering what he had in store for her. Azriel pulled at her wrist harder, her breasts pressing onto his chiselled chest until there was no more space in between them

Azriel let go of her wrist and dipped one hand into the water. Y/N watched it disappear under the soapy water until his voice made her look back him.

“Eyes on me, little one, I want to see your pretty face.” He smirked when she let out a pretty little gasp as his fingers glazed over her clothed folds, taking note of the water shifting as her body jolted slightly. Grinning from ear to ear as his fingers found her pretty little clit through her soaked underwear and gave it a few little circles, eliciting soft moans from Y/N.

“Keep those pretty eyes open,” he cooed as her head tipped back.

Y/N’s hand flew to his shoulders, holding on while he was slowly riling her up. She really tried, but it was impossible when this male was rubbing her bundle of nerves sinfully slow, making her mind go berserk.

“Please,” she moaned and gripped his shoulder harder, probably leaving some marks on his that’d be gone in a few minutes. “Just… please take it off.”

“Begging now, are we?” he smirked and hooked his fingers around the delicate piece of clothing. “I really like this little piece on you, if I’m being honest.”

“Azriel,” Y/N warned him as she grinded her hips against his erection. Azriel hissed, holding her down with his hands on her hips. But his eyes were showing no mercy.

A loud moan erupted from her throat when Azriel didn’t waste another second and pushed the panties to the side, sliding two of his thick fingers through her tight walls. Y/N’s right hand gripped onto the edge of the tub as support while arching her back. The water splashing a little as her body reacted.

“This feeling better, love?” he grunted while pumping his fingers in her tight cunt, softly groaning as her walls clench around his two digits.

“Y-yes, oh my-” a moan slipping past her lips when his palm rubbed on her clit. “Gods… Azriel.”

Azriel admired her blissful expression, how beautiful Y/N looked while experiencing immense pleasure, how those full lips of hers formed in an “O” shape, letting out the prettiest sounds ever that are pure music to him. He couldn’t believe that he finally had her right where he always wanted her.

Y/N dropped her head on his shoulder, the pleasure she was feeling almost too much. Azriel reached for her cheek with his free hand that was holding her against him the entire time and made her look back at him. Her forehead was glistening, not only from the warmth of the water.

“I want to see your face when you cum on my fingers,” Azriel whispered sweetly, pulling Y/N closer until his lips were brushing her, grinning at her blissful expression while pumping his fingers.

Y/N softly mewled when he switched from his palm to his thumb, rubbing her clit. The slow, sinful circles on her sensitive clit were driving her insane. She pulled him closer by the shoulders and wrapped her arms around them, needing to feel more, needing to feel him more. All she craved was this beautiful male right in front of her.

“I’m close… don’t stop.“

“Come for me, my love.”

Y/N nodded dumbly, too consumed by the intense pleasure his fingers were providing. That familiar warm sensation in her lower belly approaching fast, a few more pumps of his fingers and flicks to her clit, had her gushing around them with a moan of his name right against his lips, tugging him closer by the neck to smash her lips against them.

Azriel kissed her back with such an intension, he almost forgot he still had his fingers buried inside of her until she began squirming, pushing his hand away from her sensitive spot. “Too much,” she mumbled against his lips.

Their lips collided again, her fingers digging through his soft dark hair then dragged down to his back, close to his wings, while Azriel gripped onto the edge of the tub preventing him from going all berserk on her. He groaned at the addictive sensation of her nails lightly dragging down his muscular back, almost causing him to break the damn tub.

But he couldn’t hold back anymore, not after hearing her soft whimpers and her moaning his name into his ear. The way she was grinding against him, made him crazy. His hands found her hips again and in a fluid motion, he had her turned around. Facing the beautiful night lights of Velaris, Y/N was holding onto the edge of the tub now with Azriel right behind her. She turned her head to take a better look at Azriel and he was standing there right behind her in all of his glory. Wings spread wide with pride, looking down at her with his lower lip between his teeth.

His hands caressed her back, one hand travelling down her spine until it landed on her cheek. He grabbed a handful and squeezed, making her jolt in her position with a tiny squeal. His other hand landed on her hip, holding her tight while he was pumping his hard member.

Y/N licked her lips as she watched him, his cock barely fitting in his big hand, moans slipping past her lips as she imagined him burying that thick cock inside her. He revelled in her pretty moans, using his hand to stroke and line himself up with her cunt. He antagonizingly but carefully pushed his cock through her folds, stretching her open. She winced and gasped slightly when he reached halfway,

"I know it’s a lot, just a bit more, you’re doing so good for me, Y/N.” He stroked her waist with one hand before bringing his other the front of her until it reached her clit, rubbing soft circles on it while he pushed in some more. The pain melted away quickly as the feeling of fullness overwhelmed her senses.

He continued to bottom out and moved deeper as she got accustomed on the new sensations, the feeling of him filling her to the brim by pure size and the gentle pleasure from circling her clit. Her whimper was loud as he bottomed out, the tip of his cock brushing against her cervix, she felt impossibly full from his thick and long cock.

Her hands tried to hold onto the ledge of the tub as he set a slow yet punishingly deep pace at first.

“Love, you are so tight, squeezing me so well.” A groan fell from his lips as he threw his hand back as her warm walls hugged his cock. His slow deep pace settled into a faster more desperate one, pounding her cunt, jerking her forward and backward by her waist. He didn’t care about the water splashing all over the floor.

“Such a good girl for me, so small but taking me so well,” he grunted, as she let out needy moans, desperate tears falling down her cheeks as she cried out his name. Azriel watched her through the reflection of the window right in front of them with a slight smug grin feeling himself getting even harder.

That delicious heat in her lower abdomen quickly build up as Azriel continued fucking her harder with each thrust. Y/N let out a high pitch moan when a sensation hit her like lightning, making her shake and shiver as she clenched around his cock, her legs trembling, almost giving out as the orgasm hit her hard. Your reaction pushed him to his climax as he pushed one last time balls deep into her tight hole, twitching and filling her with his release to the brim.

Azriel caressed her back gently, before he pulled her up, her back pressing into his chest, holding her close. “You did so good for me, my love” he whispered and left kisses from her neck down to her shoulder. Y/N was too exhausted to move so she closed her eyes as she sank into the full feeling and put her hands on top of his on her stomach. “I don’t think I can move.”

That made his chuckle, leaving another kiss on her neck before he moved them a few steps back, sliding out of her while doing so and sat back down on the step that they were sitting on before. Y/N slumped against him and dropped the back of her head on his shoulder.

The two of them remained in that position for a few minutes, her head resting on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around her, fingers caressing her soft skin, relishing in the quiet, peaceful night.

“We should probably get out before we get all pruney.” Y/N broke the silence with a little joke. “And probably clean up the mess we made.”

“The house will take care of the latter,” Azriel replied with a smile on his lips. “But let me take care of you and get you to bed.”

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pit-and-the-pen · 2 months ago

Text

The Last Letter — Liam Mairi

Synopsis: Liam left you one last reminder of him before he went off to Athebyne. Nine months later, you still haven’t read it.

Includes: Pure angst. I am so sorry for all my Liam & Eden enthusiasts. I’ll make up for it with sisterly bonds (and fluff, later). Takes place during Onyx Storm.

The last letter that Liam wrote you, dated July 1st, sits in between some textbooks on your bookshelf. It remains untouched, even though it’s been almost a year since you received it. Liam had said not to open it until after he was back in from Parapet duty.

Little did either of you know, he wouldn’t even make it to see the year end.

The sealed envelope, the one with his scrawling handwriting, is pristine. It’s too perfect to mess up. Too clean, too reminiscent of your golden boy who used to press flowers for you in his spare time. You can’t help but feel like you’ll ruin something if you pry the golden wax seal open, tainting your lover’s actual final words to you forever. Those spoken ones didn’t count, from when the two of you snuck back into the Healers Quadrant on Reunification Day. He’d made love to you for the last time, equipped with soft words and gentle touches. His hands, calloused and warm, may have memorized every inch of your skin, but his parting words later that night were sealed like a brand in your memory.

“I’ll always come back for you. That’s a promise I intend on keeping.”

Well, when push came to shove, he didn’t come back for you — so did those words have any real meaning at all? Could they compete with the pages of rambling he shoved into that envelope a year ago and then hid in your room under a carving of an owl?

You’d never know, because no matter how hard you try, you can’t make yourself open it. Of course, the curiosity chips away at you until you’re cracked and bleeding, but to no avail. There is not a single thing that could possibly convince you to open that letter.

Well, not a thing. But maybe a person.

It’s no surprise to you when Sloane comes creeping into the infirmary late one night while you’re completing your paperwork. She’s turned this into a weekly ordeal; every Sunday, she sneaks in to talk about Liam and ask about the things in the letters he addressed to her. There are so, so many — but you know that she’s getting close to the end.

“Gods, that looks boring,” she snorts, plopping down in the seat next to you. “How much more do you have to do?”

You shrug and continue to scribble on to your little data sheet. “I’m at least halfway done. We weren’t too heavy today, so there’s not much to be done. I just want to make sure I’m being accurate.”

Her hand finds your free one. “You’re always accurate. You’re probably the smartest person I’ve ever met.”

You purse your lips. “Eh. You’ve met Violet.”

A light squeeze shuts you up. “I’m not talking about Violet,” Sloane retorts. “I’m talking about you. Liam said you’re always right about everything, and he never liked to exaggerate.”

Well. That’s only partially true, really. Liam was honest, yes, but he could also be verydramatic when he wanted to be, and you know for a fact that, no — you’re hardly ever right about anything.

You let it slide, though. Just for Sloane.

The sound of your name has you pausing again, just to look up at her quizzically. “Can…” She stops. “Do you want to read this one with me? It’s shorter than the others, and I saw your name in it.”

You hesitate. It’s been around six months since you’ve been able to touch Liam’s letters to you. The last one you reread, dated January 24th, almost tore you apart upon reading his lovesick confessions and how he missed you. After that, you’d shoved all but one into a box and stuffed it under your bed, never to see the light of day again.

Liam would hate that. He didn’t like the dark, as supplied by the many mage lights he kept aflame in his room.

But…This isn’t for Liam. It’s for his sister, for the connections she so desperately needs after being ripped away from her only living family. She deserves the closure just as much as you desire the solitude. As a quiet concession, you drop your pen and incline your head. “Go ahead.”

Sloane blinks, as if she didn’t expect you to say yes, but she pulls out a little, meticulously folded slip of paper from her breast pocket.

Oh, Liam. Even in death, I admire your attention to detail.

Sloane unfolds it slowly, her fingers trembling as if the thought of showing Liam’s thoughts to someone else is an unforgivable act. She doesn’t know about your letterbox, and you don’t intend on telling her, either. As much as you’re willing to give to help her, you’re also unabashedly selfish. There’s only one person who gets to see what Liam was like in love, and that’s you. End of story.

She clears her throat and waits for your nod to begin reading. Upon your concession, she flattens the paper against the table and reads.

“April 15th.

Sloane,

Here’s my tip to survival for you today: By all means necessary, do not — and I mean, do not — make a bet with people on racing dragons. Deigh and I may have won against Fohmar and Enna Laughlin, but at what cost? I went into vertigo and almost promptly lost my guts. I cannot recommend it, no matter how beautiful the adrenaline rush is. Then, when we landed, I landed almost directly on top of Bodhi, who looked like he was about to either yell or shit himself. Maybe both. You can never really tell with him.

By the way, because I know you’ll want to — you don’t need to make fun of me; my girl already did that for you (I can’t wait for you to meet her. She’s got the same bite as you).”

Sloane takes a second to breathe, which you take to steady yourself and write a few more notes into your data sheet. That day, Liam had stumbled into the infirmary looking pale and spent, which scared the shit out of you. Then, you’d promptly gave him hell for his boyish idiocy, which he accepted with — as always — a bright, dimpled grin.

Shit. You breathe in shakily and then nod to tell Sloane to continue.

“Here are some other highlights in case you need something to brighten your day.

We finished up Squad Battles today. I moved us up a couple of spots in sparring with this insane leg lock that hurt like hell. I kind of felt bad for the guy I was paired with, but the gratification at the end made every second worth it. I know; I’m so modest.

Subsequently, we moved on to the last challenge, which was scary as shit. I won’t spoil if it’s reused for next year, but we ended up sneaking into General Sorrengail’s personal office to steal stuff. It was both the most terrifying and exhilarating thing I’ve ever done. I know I’ve said this in every other letter I’ve written, but you’ll absolutely adore Violet. Her mother may be to blame for our struggles, but she is nothing but kind to me. Be kind to her in turn, please.

Not that this would interest you yet, but I also happened to steal a bottle of wine from someone else’s office. It’s labeled as Tyrrish Petrichor, but it’s definitely Zinfandel. You might not remember, but that’s Mom’s favorite. It’s very bold, with a little bit of spice. Maybe we should sneak back in when you get here so we can grab another bottle, just as a little keepsake.”

You know that flavor all too well. Liam had brought in that bottle with the most smug little smile on his face, and since it was a Saturday, you were free to get absolutely shitfaced together. What transpired that night is still hazy to you, but several things about the morning after pointed you both in the right direction immediately.

Wine stains on your bedsheets.

Your cane lying abandoned by your bedside table.

Liam looking bewildered, and then a bit too pleased with himself.

The recollections have you biting down on your lip to keep yourself from succumbing to the whims of your aching heart. Your fingers curl around the edge of your seat, grazing the wood while Sloane finishes the letter.

“By the time you read this, you’ll probably be preparing for Squad Battles yourself. I’ll be watching out for you on the sidelines, kiddo. Don’t forget to absorb every moment — the good, the bad, and the ugly. Once you’re past First Year, you’ll be aching to go back and experience it all over again, no matter how painful it may feel the first time. At least, that’s how I feel with a lot of things.

P.S. I’m praying that we’ll somehow end up in the same squad by some sudden miracle. However, we probably won’t. Be prepared to get your ass kicked, Sloane, because no one beats Second Squad when it comes to any kind of challenge.

Just kidding, but not really,

Liam.”

Although hot tears swim in your eyes, you can’t help but sputter out a laugh. “Just kidding, but not really. Gods, what an idiot.”

Sloane just shakes her head with an exasperated but amused smile. “Hey, that’s purely him. You decided to fall in love with that.”

“I did, didn’t I?” You murmur, brushing your thumb under the tabletop absentmindedly. If you feel around enough, you can feel the shallow dip in the wood where Liam decided to carve out your initials with a tiny, all too realistic heart above it. How he was able to put so much detail in such a little indentation is beyond you — but, then again, so were a lot of things when it came to Liam.

Sloane’s eyes soften in a way that’s painfully familiar. She slides out of the chair and gives you a gentle hug, burying her head in your shoulder.

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “For doing this with me. I don’t like reading them by myself, and you’re the closest thing I have to him now.”

You tense a little at the contact, but you eventually ease and allow her to slump into you. “Anytime, kid,” you reply hoarsely, swallowing around a lump in your throat. “He loves you, you know. So much.”

You can’t make yourself refer to him in past-tense. It just doesn’t make sense, especially when it comes to him and Sloane.

“Yeah?” She whispers. “He fucking adored you. I’m sorry I can’t show you every letter, but I know for certain that he wanted everything with you. He had an entire future in his head.”

In and out. Clench the jaw. Swallow again. Breathe.

The faint trembling of your lip sends you reeling back into the present, and you slowly free yourself from her grasp.

“Thank you,” you tell her earnestly, giving her the most genuine look you can muster. “For that, Sloane. You don’t understand how much it means to me, that you’re willing to come and talk to me.”

She shoots you a small, knowing smile, one that says, “I do, actually.” She skirts her way back to the door and waves, a promise to return next week with another letter to both quell and strengthen your sorrow.

It’s five — or maybe thirty? Or is it an hour? — minutes later, and you’re completely alone, accompanied only by the sound of your breathing and your quill scratching against the paperwork you’d disregarded. Routine, as mundane as it is, is your saving grace right about now. With barely anyone to cheerfully interrupt up your day, all you can do to cope is work, work, work, and then pass out at the end of the day until the cycle begins anew. You’re definitely the only healer presently working right now, even if it’s just assignments that are second-nature to you by now.

As much as you try to focus, to block out everything but information and statistics, your mind keeps drifting to Liam’s letter. Despite it being Sloane who read it, you can replace her voice with his almost perfectly, as if he was speaking the words himself.

“Don’t forget to absorb every moment — the good, the bad, and the ugly. Once you’re past First Year, you’ll be aching to go back and experience it all over again, no matter how painful it may feel the first time.”

Ugh. You lean forward and tuck your head in your arms. For everything dumb he did around you, Liam was never short on wisdom to share — and, from past letters, it seems he wanted to impart every last bit of it to his sister, like a good older brother. And, by extension, to you. Whether that was an intentional choice of his or not, you’d never know.

“Hm,” you muse under your breath, looping your signature expertly on a crisp line. “Was that a sign from you, Li?”

Of course, you know you won’t get a reply, but the cold air of the infirmary settling around you like a soft embrace is answer enough. If Sloane can do it, so can you. You can read a fucking letter and live with it afterwards.

Paperwork be damned. You haul yourself to your feet and drag yourself back to your room. Despite the exhaustion in your bones and the ache in your leg, you have a new sense of determination. If you don’t read that damn letter now, you might not ever be able to. You usually like to neglect your grief, shut it down and shove it in a coffin deep inside and never address it again — but that’s not how Liam worked. Grief was something to be held and cared for until it was tamed quietly, under gentle supervision instead of under lock and key. That’s where the two of you always differed; one of you cares too little about their feelings, and the other cared extensively. He always did. Always does. Present-tense.

You unlock your door and make a beeline for the third shelf from the top of your bookshelf, where the blue, smooth envelope sits delicately in between your numerous medical tomes and jars of stationery. Dropping onto your messy sheets, you prop your cane against the bedside table and stare at that dastardly golden seal that closes the letter off from your sight. Your thumb presses against the wax hesitantly, as if even the lightest of touches would ruin the beauty of it all. Tarnish it, forever staining its perfection and the image of Liam pressing the stamp onto the paper meticulously, just like he did with everything else.

The muscles in your thumb lock up for a moment, as if they could sense your hesitation and decided to act upon it. That nagging piece inside screams at you for wanting to open the envelope, to read Liam’s last words to you like they’re the finale of a romance that was supposed to last forever. If you laid your eyes upon his unread thoughts, would that render the adoration between you broken with nothing else to add to it? Would it just solidify the fact that he’s gone, and you won’t have anything to return to when you retire to your room at night?

Liam would hate that I’m thinking like this, you think to yourself. Like he’s gone gone, and not just a realm or two away. That was something he always rambled about when you were left alone with his head in your lap and your fingers in his hair; “No matter when someone passes,” he’d say, “the realm of the dead is just next to ours. They don’t leave. They just take a few steps back and wait for you to see them.”

Maybe that’s what you need to do, too. Take a few steps back to last July and grant Liam the blessing of having his last words to you tattooed in the back of your brain. It’s the least you can do; even with him being gone, you still feel like you owe him a thousand debts, plus a thousand more.

With trembling hands and a sinking feeling in your stomach, you start to peel back the seal with your thumbnail, ignoring the little voice in the back of your head that shrieks at you to stop before you make a mistake.

But there are no mistakes. He wouldn’t have wrote it if he didn’t want you to read it.

It comes off in one piece, slightly weighted and warm in the palm of your hand. You never did ask Liam what the little symbol on his seals meant, but it feels so solid on your skin. Grounding. Warm, like Liam’s hands whenever they found yours. Nice and strong, but lacking his callouses.

Ever so gently, you ease the papers from the envelope, unfolding them with your heart pounding in your ears. Liam’s handwriting, scrawling and rushed and utterly him, unfurls beneath your eyes perfectly. Your name, looped neatly at the top, has you biting down on the inside of your cheek. Despite the stretch of time since you’ve last heard his voice, you can practically hear him whispering in your ear as you begin to read.

“My sweet girl,

I won’t lie; the fact that I’m even beginning to write this feels absolutely surreal. It doesn’t feel like it’s been a year since the Parapet, and it certainly doesn’t feel like it’s been less than a year since I met you. Call me a sap; I don’t care. Despite it being not that long since I first laid my eyes on you, I think that we may have been one soul in a past life. How else could I become so infatuated with someone so quickly?

You bear every burden with terrifying ease, my love. That is no small feat, no matter how modest you like to be. Not everyone can make the transition from rider to healer so seamlessly, but you make it look so effortless — and so good. You’re beautiful in black, but blue is definitely your color. I like to think it’s because it’s my eye color (don’t slap me for that one), but I digress. You are the strongest woman I have ever met, and I know so well that if my mother were still here, she would adore you. So would will my sister. I can’t wait for you to meet Sloane. She’s got the same energy as you, just with a little more audacity. You’ll be the first person she meets outside of her squad — I’ll make sure of it. When we sneak in after her first class, be prepared. I’ll make the excuse of showing her how to get to the infirmary in case she needs it.

You’ll be pissed at me for this, probably, but I got a look at your Reunification Day dress when you left your armoire door open, and…Wow. You’re absolutely gorgeous, but I don’t know how I’ll be able to handle it when I get to see you in that. When Imogen and Iris first introduced us, I couldn’t stop staring, no matter how hard I tried (which, I’ll be honest — I didn’t try that much. I couldn’t help myself). There’s an expression in Tyrrish for people like you: Mo solas i lár an scrios. My light in the midst of destruction.

It’s funny how time changes things so quickly. When I was a child, the only wish I had for my future was to be alive, and maybe to take over my father’s position in politics. Even then, I could never really envision a future where I was truly happy with my choices. Then, you happened. Suddenly, I can see everything so clearly that it’s scary. Where it was once dark, I see you and I together, wherever we may end up — may it be Morraine or Tyrrendor. You are my future, and dammit, I will fight with every cell in my body to make that future possible, even when it seems so impossible that not even a precog can see it.

Marry me after we graduate, my love. Or sooner. I’m sure we could pull some strings, with our combined success. Go wherever you want, and I will follow, from the tip of the sky to the very bottom of Malek’s realm. There is no man, dragon, or god alive that can keep us apart for long. I want to marry you, live with you, change with you, grow old with you, and pass with you. It’s only fitting, because you are the only thing I want in my future. Even if the world goes to ash around us, we’ll burn brighter than the stars together.

And if I have to leave? I’ll come back for you every time. Every damn time, and that is a promise. In the event that I’m killed in action, don’t you worry your pretty head off. After all, you know I’m just a realm away, and I’m still not leaving your side. Like I said, that’s a promise. I don’t break promises, you know.

Meet up with me after the healer’s graduation, at the bridge. I have something for you.

Always, forever, and then more,

Liam.”

You don’t quite realize how long you’ve been sitting there, just staring at the end of the letter, until the unmistakable sound of paper shifting hits your ears. A few dark, wet spots have made their way from your cheeks to the edges of the paper, and you shift a little backwards, laying the letter on your bedside table.

It’s dark in your room, the only light being emitted from a dying candle that’s undoubtedly on its last tenure. The abandoned seal shines bright in the glow, catching and redirecting onto your fingers. You stare at it for a few moments, any speech you could have tried for melting into wet sand on your tongue.

Marry me after we graduate.

Gladly, you would have said. No questions asked, you’d have married him on the spot if he asked.

And he did. Not to your face, but he did.

How are you supposed to just…answer that?

A dry laugh bubbles from your throat. “You couldn’t have just said something? Gods, you’re a douche.”

There’s no answer, of course, but you can imagine Liam’s sheepish laughter in the back of your brain followed by a flurry of apologies. A small, bitter smile keeps your face drawn up, and you just shake your head.

“Idiot,” you whisper, reaching out and brushing the edge of the letter with your thumb as another tear falls. “I would have said yes. I’m still saying yes. You being gone doesn’t change that.”

You sit back against the wall, resting your head against the cool stone and watching out your window at the stars. Could you burn brighter than those? Maybe, if you had Liam with you — but he’s not here. Not physically, at least.

You tilt your head to the side. “Just a realm away, huh? That doesn’t sound very far, when you put it like that.”

Against the faint light, imperceptible even to your keenly observant eyes, a flickering silhouette shifts towards you. Maybe, if you saw it and stared at it long enough, you could have caught it leaning in close to you, completely invading your personal space.

And, maybe if you’d been paying enough attention, you could have caught the cool touch of a breeze against your cheek, all too similar to that of a gentle, familiar, barely-there kiss.

Taglist: @wonderstruckbyyou, @jessicalee22likestowrite, @freezerbride18, @ineednewdaggers, @suspicious-stain-in-spain, @kienhawon, @goldenmagnolias, @empyreanevents

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pit-and-the-pen · 3 months ago

Text

GETHSEMANE | AZRIEL

SYN. a guide for idiots who are pining after someone who wishes not to be pined.

CW. suggestive. minors dni. fem!reader. she/her. eris vanserra x fem!reader action for a second or two. neck kissing. bloody fighting, etc. jealously. love bites mentioned. yearning in the most toxic way ever. 3.4k words. slightly edited. if you see any mistakes look away.

NOTE. had to switch it up. i was originally going to have reader and eris hook up but i didn’t have the heart to write betrayal. anyways! def not the last part of this since everything originally is longer in word count counting all together. reblogs are appreciated! this is completely different from what i had originally wrote!

PLEASE READ PART ONE & PART TWO BEFORE READING THIS NEW UPDATE !

It had been days since you were last home. In and out of bustling clubs down the streets of Velaris. You danced and drank your heart away, not even considering taking a body home. It was out of the question no matter how hard revenge sounded like a sweet symphony to you.

But no matter what you knew that you’d have a home to come back to. Just not one you’d want to stay in. Physically you could, emotionally and mentally it would make your mind ache. You just weren’t ready to see him. To feel him. To be in the same presence as him.

You had found yourself outside of the night court, yawning slightly as you tried to find your way back to the hideout you were seeking temporary shelter in. It wasn’t like no one knew where you were, your brother always kept his tabs on you. Even if he was busy with being High Lord and being a father, he always made sure to know where you were.

As for the others, they knew you wouldn’t stray too far without coming back. They were used to you sneaking away to get some peace and quiet and ignore what was troubling you. The less they knew, the better it was on your behalf. The last thing you needed was to have Mor or even Cassian find out the latest gossip about you or even Azriel. But you knew Azriel like the palm of your hand—you knew he’d tell either Rhys or Cassian what was going on.

“You know you should really keep doors locked.”

The voice startles you out of the mindless turmoil of thoughts. You stand in the doorway of the small cottage, your eyes adjusting to the darkness. In the small moonlight from the partially drawn curtains you see him standing in the corner, twirling a key in their fingers with a menacing smirk.

Eris comes out from the corner, throwing the house key at you, in which you collect just before it lands at your feet. “It was locked, Vanserra.”

He grimaces. “Oh oh oh! The night princess is rather feisty this evening,” he drawls out in a mocking laugh. He takes a look at you before plopping down on the dusty sofa. “I just wanted to pay my brother a visit. A sadness has come upon the Autumn court but this cottage full of fresh vines threw me off my path.”

You raise a brow. You knew better than to ask him what he was talking about. It was nothing but tricks with Eris. Always managing to say what anyone wanted to hear. He made sure to keep his eyes on you. It was like you could see flames flicker in his sharp eyes.

You shut the door behind you, ignoring him as you take off your boots. You felt a great relief once your socks hit the cool wooden floor. “And you expect me to treat you as a guest?” You ask him, eyeing him briefly before taking off your jacket.

“Well yes.”

You hum, giving him a look that meant: fuck no. “You broke into my home.”

“There was a key under a flower pot.” He shrugs, propping his feet up on the old coffee table.

“A key not meant for you, Eris. I didn’t give you permission to enter my home,” you nudge his feet off of the table, crossing your arms over your chest as you stand in front of him. A look of pure annoyance written on your face. “So leave before someone finds you here. Then we will both be in so much trouble. I just might kill you myself."

His eyes went wide at the threat. A small smile slowly formed as his scent changed. A foul scent that made your head pound. “Gross.” You groan, kicking his boot as you step back from him.

Eris snorts. “What can I say? I love it when an attractive lady threatens me.”

You shake your head, rolling your eyes in the process as you stand feet away from him. Anything to keep yourself from throttling him out of your small cottage. The scent of his arousal grew stronger as yours was indifferent.

Eris sighs, growing annoyed that you wouldn’t take the bait. A bait he had perfectly planned to try, he knew something was off with you. It was everywhere in the cottage, it was almost tainting the very walls. You were deprived but of what? Eris couldn’t figure it out.

“You can leave now. Your curiosity has been solved.” You manage to finally say after a few long tiring seconds. You weren’t sure how long you had until you made a mistake. Eris was a time bomb just as you were.

He stands from the sofa, dusting himself off with a sigh. “Are you sure?”

“I’m as sure as I can be.” You mumble with an annoyed look. You kept your eyes on him as he stopped in front you.

“You never cease to amaze me with your loyalty.” Eris grins, showing you a flashy smile.

“Loyalty to whom? I have no loyalty.”

He snorted. Shaking his head, he taps your head. “Everyone knows that you have such a devoted loyalty to that shadowsinger. It’s a shame you won’t fuck another male in sight.” He huffs, pulling his hand back before you could tear it off like a rabid animal.

It was no secret. You knew people chattered and rumors were rumors. But you never expected for him to know. If Eris knew, who else knew of the escapades you had shared with Azriel in the past? You were sure you were careful but being overly careful in the night court always led to whispers. Whispers you were sure had spread and weren’t aware of.

You ignore him. Not saying anything, you knew better. It was all a part of his plan to rile you up. Anything to get under your skin just enough to where you would go out of your way to prove a point.

So proving a point was better than letting Eris insult you in ways you knew were coming.

“You still haven’t changed. I don’t know what’s worse. You or that fucking mouth of yours,” you grumble, flicking his ear as you lean closer. “Please leave. I’m only asking once. I’m not in any mood for your acts of service.” You murmur, taking a whiff of his scent with disgust as you pull away from him.

Eris grins, pressing his nose against yours, his eyes met yours—locked in a silent battle. You held your breath, eyes slightly softening as your body relaxed. “Eris. Go.” You mumble in one breath.

“Why?” His lips brush against yours, his eyes didn't flatter, only blinked as his pupils grew slightly bigger. “Don’t tell me you don’t enjoy the adrenaline of seeing someone else that isn’t him. It surprises me that you don’t get tired of the same cock.” He drags a finger down your chin, tipping your chin up so you could look up at him properly.

His movements were calculated. They were softer. So much softer than Azriel’s. You felt yourself slowly step closer into his presence. Ignoring the feeling in your heart to keep going with this man that wasn’t him.

With squinted eyes, your fingers land on his chest. Trying your best to break whatever was bound to happen. You weren’t just a random woman, you were the mate to Azriel, a possessive Illyrian male that was a part of your older brother's inner circle.

You knew better to let Eris Vanserra have his lips on your neck. You knew better to have your fingers twisting in his hair, trying your hardest to pull away from him. But it was you that initiated for him to press his lips against your neck without a care in the world.

“No kissing.” You hiss, pulling his face away from yours, glaring at him as he raised a brow at the damned command.

“Careful, night princess. You sounded like your brother there.” Eris mutters in your ear, giving your left ear a gentle kiss before traveling down your jaw cryptic and slow.

You close your eyes, trying to keep the shakes of adrenaline to yourself. “Good to know you think of my brother while kissing his baby sister.” You smart back, letting his fingers work to unbutton the noise you wore.

Your mind starts to draw blank, slowly closing your eyes as you try to think of it as Azriel touching you. But this wasn’t him. No. This was someone who took his time for his own pleasure, not yours. You missed him—you missed him despite the way it went down.

All while Eris was trying his hardest to work his way down your body.

Azriel was thinking of you while he talked to Rhysand and Cassian about you.

Azriel sat on the sofa, a troubled look on his face as Rhys and Cassian stood in front of him waiting for him to tell them everything.

He wasn’t sure where to start. Does he go back to where it started? Or does he just talk about the mate bond incident? He was troubled. He had no guidance. He didn’t have you here in the vicinity of the house to lean on you when needed.

“Your sister and I had a brief relationship of just…” he trails off trying to find the right word. “Uh..sex. Nothing else. It just was a friends with benefit thing we started—“

Cassian snorted. “Oh we know about that. We know how you two like to sneak off and come back all mysterious.”

That statement was enough to send Azriel into a plummet of anger and embarrassment but not right now. Not when he was in the hottest seat of all time. No insult from Cassian could amount to the amount of humiliation Azriel was feeling right now.

Azriel didn’t dare look over at Rhysand, who had just stared him down. He wasn’t sure if he was about to get his ass handed to him or something much worse. He wasn’t ready for it.

Rhys sighs finally. Leaning against his desk, looking at Azriel with disappointment. “I knew about it. I just refused to acknowledge it. My sister won’t let anyone pry into her private affairs. Especially when it came to you.” The high lord uttered with a shrug, Rhys didn’t have a leash on you. That’s one point that was made centuries ago.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

The two men shrugged. Keeping the snickers to themselves. “We were waiting for you to share Mr. Secrets.” Cassian mumbled

Azriel looked away, staring out at the window. The guys had a point, he wasn’t going to tell them about his escapades with you—it wasn’t a part of the gossip others needed to hear. “I feel like an ass,” he sighs, the shadows around him swirl. “I rejected her. I rejected the mate bond.”

“You didn’t reject her. She has to accept the offer of the bond first or have you forgotten how it works.” Rhys sighs, rubbing his brow, trying to keep himself from cussing under his breath.

Azriel doesn’t respond, looking defeated. He was the definition of a dog without a bone, looking all pouty and upset. He had lost his bone, the only bone he wanted to cling on to. He just didn’t know how.

“I thought you were caught up on Elain?” Cassian asks, sitting down on the cushioned chest in the office.

The shadowsinger was conflicted. Conflicted in a sense that left him questioning whether or not to spill the truth of how he actually felt. What he felt for Elain wasn’t forced. It was real. Genuine.

But what he felt with you was intoxicating. A drug he would gladly abuse. You were everything he wanted and everything he molded into needing. But it was the constant feeling of not being good enough. An ache in his heart was what is stopping him from loving you unconditionally and wholly.

“Az?” Rhys calls out, trying to get Azriel to come back to them.

“Yeah. Yeah. I am.” He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. The shadows start to swirl away when the topic of Elain is mentioned.

“But she’s with Lucien. So that’s not even on the table.”

Azriel whips his head finally towards Rhys, his statement was clear and full of warning. Azriel stood up, jaws clenched as his hands were curled into fists. “I understand that but something about her draws me in.”

Cassian rolls his eyes. Rubbing his face as he shakes his head in pure shock. Rhys scrunches his nose up in displeasure. “Move on.”

Azriel glares at Rhys. Simply feeling defeated from being cut off from explaining. If he was going to have them hear him out, he is going to do it now. “No,” he mumbles with a small bite to it. “I don’t understand why I want her. I know I can’t have her and maybe that’s why I enjoy the chase. She’s the only thing that has come from something that isn’t tainted.”

The room grew hot. Tension boiled over the rim as Azriel's cup was runneth full. He had disrespected you in ways that he didn’t even catch. He let his mouth run before his mind could think.

“Are you calling my sister tainted?” Rhys growled, stepping away from the desk in a motion that shoved it back a few inches.

There was a shift in the room, a deadly one that sent Cassians back rigid, looking at Azriel. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that, Rhys.”

Rhysand ignores Cassian. Stepping closer towards Azriel. He wasn’t sure what to do, he couldn’t run, that would only make it worse. If he fought back Rhys would end up hurting him to the point where he would be stripped of his title.

So he did what he thought would be best. Sending a ripple down the mate bond. A plea for help. A plea for you to come home and save him from receiving the ass beating of a lifetime.

You shove yourself away from Eris, gripping your chest. Your eyes glowed a deep purple, the mate bond rippling down your whole body. Something was wrong.

“Everything alright?” Eris says out of breath, fixing his hair as he stands straight up after being hunched over for minutes.

“I-I…” you stammer, buttoning up your shirt in a hurry, not carrying if they were uneven and half of your breasts were exposed. You needed to winnow back to where Azriel was. Your current condition didn’t matter except for his. You fix your hair, rushing past him slipping on your boots. “I just need to go.” You manage to say looking him over.

Not once did he kiss you. Only treasuring your body like a piece of gold in a dragon's keep. He was someone else’s flame to tame. You just stoked the fire out of boredom.

You give Eris a long sigh, turning away from him before winnowing.

Not expecting to winnow into a bloody fight was the last thing on your mind. You watch as Cassian tries his best to separate the two but is only shoved aside. You had never seen Azriel and Rhys so angry before. They always fought but never like this—never like they wanted to kill each other.

“Guys!” You try to yell over the sound of fists hitting flesh. They ignore you, finally winnowing out of the office.

You look over at Cassian, who sported a bloody brow. You rush over to him, looking him over. “Gods be damned. What the fuck happened?” You hiss, examining the wound.

He blinks at you, giving you a cheeky grin. Cassian didn’t like you worrying but most importantly he knew better than to let you get involved. “I see you were busy elsewhere.” He hints at the way your shirt was a wreck, a shit eating grin plastered on his face, despite the circumstances of the situation.

You pull away, turning around fixing the buttons. “Don’t dodge. You tell me what’s going on.” You utter in a growl, finally turning back around with a fixed shirt.

“Azriel saying stuff that’s out of line,” Cassian shrugs, rubbing his hands together. You roll your eyes at that comment. “Especially when it involves you.” He finishes, placing a hand on your shoulder. He gives it a squeeze.

“What did he say?” You try to swallow the worry in your gut, knowing that he sent that ripple down the bond for a reason and not by accident. Azriel truly fucked up.

“I can’t say. Just find them both before someone ends up dying this time.” Cassian pats your shoulder, giving you a frown, his eyes full of tiredness and weariness.

You nod, giving him a frown in return before trying to track Rhys or Azriel down the shared mental bonds. You have always had a mental bond when it came to Rhys, you two simply communicated with it to avoid conversations that were not needed. But the mental bond that you and Azriel had was different. This time it was more enhanced and meant something to you. It was a special bond that will last for centuries to come.

The mountain top was a terrible choice. You walked through the destruction of torn down trees and blood splatters. It was simply a warzone done by two men. Your mind was racing with the endless possibilities of what you will find. Not wanting to think about it any further, you walked further up the hill of the mountain, following the trail.

It didn’t take you long to find them, on the muddy ground throwing fists and curse words at each other. You stood there, watching Rhys throw Azriel back into the mud as blue syphons glow against the muddy earth.

“Are you both done?” You yell, your voice echoing down the mountain.

The tension shifted slightly. The men looked up at you but Rhys snarled in direction, picking up Azriel by the shoulder and throwing him inches away from him. The fight continued in seconds, they were actively ignoring you. Taking their fight further away from you. But you followed, anger bellowing in your body as you were ready to pull them apart.

It wouldn’t be the first nor the last time you broke fights. You were sick of them both hurting each other over something senseless. The reason had to be, right?

You let out a shaky breath, readying yourself for the ass beating you were about to receive for separating them both. Fist fights. Broken bones. Bloody noses. You’ve faced it all. Despite you being told to never come between their fights, it was brainless to even think about stepping in. But you didn’t care. Not anymore.

You wait until they have each other pinned down again. Muttering angry profanities at another as you finally step closer to them.

“Enough!” You snarled, yanking Rhys by his wing and kicking Azriel in the chest. “I said enough.” You growl, slapping Rhysands chest as he looks down at you.

You watch Azriel stand, wings curled in as blood and mud cover him from head to toe. “What are you doing here?” Azriel’s voice was hoarse from the amount of yelling he had been doing.

You ignore him, looking at your brother. You simply point to the large boulder off the side of the mountain. He doesn’t say anything else, his gaze softening as he turns to make his way towards the boulder.

As Rhys is making his way to the boulder, you finally turn your attention to Azriel. Walking towards him. “What the fuck did you do?” You hiss angrily in his face, ready to kick his ass for whatever reason comes to mind.

Azriel furrows his brows. Confused as to why you were yelling at him and not at Rhys. He steps closer towards you, looking you over just as soon as the scent hits him. A scent that he knew far too well.

He takes a finger, moving the collar of your shirt down. The small trail of love bites against your skin made him crumple the shirt and bring you forward towards him. His lips hit your ear, his growl sends a shiver down your spine.

“Why is Eris on your fucking skin?” He hisses, looking down at you.

You pry his hand free from your shirt, slapping his hand and away from touching you again. “Excuse me?”

Azriel presses himself against you, trying his hardest to intimidate you, but you don't back down. You were too angry to even think about what you were doing before this all had happened.

“You heard me,” He says coldly, as a hand grips your jaw. “What the fuck were you doing?”

You snorted, slapping his hand away this time much harder. “I could ask you the same! Nearly trying to kill each other and for what?” You shake with anger, shoving him back.

“And don’t say it’s because of me!” You painfully utter. You slowly lose yourself, shoving him with each step you take. “You’ve gotten reckless all because of this mate bond!” You yell at him, shaking your head. Your hands meet his chest even harder, ignoring the cracking. “You told me that you wouldn’t accept this bond!” You continue, ignoring Rhysands yells and Azriel’s arms try to stop you. You felt hot tears run down your face, sobs escaping your mouth as you shove him. “I’ve gotten reckless.” You sniffle, hiccuping a pathetic sob as he wraps his arms around you.

He stops you full force, just before the lookout comes to a deadly drop. He whispers your name, shushing you as he hands cup your face. You wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his partially dried muddy shirt. He closes his eyes, sighing to himself in relief, his fingers stroke your hair.

“You’re hurting. You have all the right to be reckless,” He murmurs, carefully walking you backward away from the ledge. “I did this. I know but you were with Eris.”

There’s the jealousy, again. The softness in his voice is gone as he mentions Eris. You pull away from him, wiping away your tears and ignoring the mud now all over you. “That has nothing to do with what you and my brother were fist fighting about.” You rub your brow, narrowing in on him.

Azriel looks over at you, sighing like a drama queen. “I insulted you and it wasn’t intentional.”

You huff, “Unbelievable.”

You wave him off, turning away from him you make your way to where Rhys stood. An amused look on his face, he was waiting for you to explode without the tears. Just raw anger.

Azriel grabs you by the arm, pulling you back around to face him. “Don’t.” You growl, you grab his hand, yanking him down to the ground.

Azriel groans, your boot pressing into the bone of his shoulder. He knew better than to test your limits, especially your anger. You played dirty and you fought way worse than Rhys, himself. He says your name in a drawless breath. Heavy and full of tiredness.

You ignore him, twisting deeper into the flesh of his shoulder. “You don’t want me. You need me. You could live without me and be fine,” you hiss, tears falling onto his face. “If you won’t accept this mate bond then I will no longer wait for a male who doesn’t want me.” You murmur painfully. Just before you could pop his shoulder out of place, you break away from him.

Azriel looks up at you with shock, unable to form any more weak pleas for you to listen. Anything to get you to stay a little longer. Anything to get you to see his perspective of not wanting to accept a bond and force himself to love someone he knew he wasn’t capable of loving. He knew he couldn’t make you see that light, not when the light in you was slowly dying out.

Rhys drops the smile he wore from afar, not expecting that to take a turn. You look past your brother, letting him feel all of your pain and anguish as you make your way back down the mountain.

Hoping to forget the pained look on Azriel’s face when you hurt him.

#now Azriel #why did you clock Eris’ scent so fast #also I know he isn’t talking about being with other people #okay but can they kiss yet…

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