#and no one except Rita knows the feeling

[nade2308]

"The drops of rain make a hole in the stone, not by violence, but by oft falling."

— Lucretius

@thethistlegirl @malewifebillcage

[ninthcircleofprythian]

Here Comes The Sun

Azriel x You

Word Count : 3.8k

Summary : When the Spymaster of the Night Court discovers your little crush, you end up crossing a lot of firsts off your list.

Warnings : lots of sexual tension, use of nicknames (Sunshine - Reader/You), mention/insinuation of loss of virginity, mention of masturbation, oral and fingering (f recieving).

Author's Note : written for this anon ask, very lightly edited so please forgive mistakes/mispellings.

The crowd at Rita’s tonight was especially large, you think to yourself as you huddle closer to your friends. You had made the trip from Day Court especially for one of your dear friends birthdays. After hours of dancing, you were now gathered next to the table that Mor had taken over for your friends and hers. Rhys was snuggled in the booth obviously preoccupied with his mate  and Cassian was moping, bouncing one knee and eyeing the exit, biding his time until he could go home to Nesta. The rest of your group, including the birthday girl, were standing in a tight knot trading laughs and waving their hands in animated conversation.

Except you. You had pushed yourself to the outside of the group, overheated from all the dancing. You allow your eyes to roam around the large room, the music picking up into another lively song. Your gaze slides along the bar before it lands on the dark figure you’ve been avoiding all night. Azriel, the Shadowsinger, Spymaster to the Night Court. 

As you dip your chin with a secretive smile, you turn back to your group.

“I see your little crush hasn’t faded since the last time you were here.” Mor practically shouts over the music.

“Who? Me? What are you talking about Mor?” You feel a hot flush of color creeping over your neck.

Mor just tilts her head in response with a smirk, right in the direction of the bar you were just staring at.

“Azriel? The Spymaster?” you feign a shocked face with a laugh. “He is way out of my league.”

Mor leans closer to your ear so she isn’t shouting. “But you aren’t denying it.”

The flush of heat reaches your cheeks now. “There’s no harm in looking, you know,” you answer with another laugh.

“You’re right,” Mor smiles wickedly. “No harm done.”

As she turns back to the conversation with the birthday girl, you turn towards the table top. Grabbing your water from the table, going for a piece of ice you can cool your fingers with and press to your overheated face. Shaking the cup you realize it's empty and risk another glance towards the bar. 

An elegant female catches your eye, dress glittering and legs as long as night. She is sidled up just next to Azriel’s stool in the corner obviously trying to get his attention. It is then that you notice he is paying her no mind, not even to politely decline. Because his eyes are on you.

Another flame of heat licks at your cheeks as your eyes lock with those light hazel ones. Dipping your head quickly to turn back to your friends, you feel a slow cool breeze sliding over the back of your neck. Before you can even question the source, a hand grabs your arm.

“You want me to grab you another drink?,” one of your other friends asks.

“No, thanks. That’s ok. I should probably head out anyway. Early start tomorrow and all.” Tomorrow you were headed back to the Day Court. Scholar duties wait for no one, not even a good friend’s birthday.

Slipping through the crowd past the churning dance floor, you spot Mor and the birthday girl pushing through the hordes of people in an attempt to reach the bar. Catching their eye, you wave a little wave and head towards the coat check.

Throwing your coat over your arm as you step out onto the street, you are blissfully thankful for the cold winter air that hits you. It was much too hot inside and your face is still heated at a low simmer. The fleeting reminder of those eyes on you from across the room bring that heat straight back up to a boil.

Those light hazel eyes, those swirling dark wisps of shadow, that single dark lock of hair that doesn’t seem to stay in place and falls across his forehead.

Enough. You admonish yourself in thought.

You decide the night air will do you some good and begin the short walk just a few blocks to your inn instead of winnowing back. You don’t even make it half a block before a whipping mass of shadow blocks your path and you slam into the very solid body within it. 

Stumbling backwards a step, you stammer out an apology. “Oh, I’m sor–”

Those eyes.

“Leaving so soon, Sunshine?” Those eyes are focused solely on you as Azriel’s deep voice sounds.

“Oh, um. Yeah, I was just heading back to the inn. I’m heading home early in the morning.”

“But the night is young. You’ll miss all the fun, Sunshine.” 

“I get it,” you force out a giggle even though your heart is pounding. “Sunshine - I’m from Day Court. Very cute.”

Azriel chuckles, the vibration sweeping over your skin. Your face isn’t the only thing that feels hot now. 

“Not what I was going for, but a cute coincidence.” He emphasizes the word cute in your tone. 

“Then why did you call me Sunshine?” 

Why are you out here alone on the street talking with this male? 

It wasn’t that you felt unsafe. How could you with the Spymaster at your side? It was just that being alone with males wasn’t something you did. Ever. The scholar dorms were separated and all of your roommates were female. The occasion had never arisen before. 

“Look at you,” he purrs. “You are practically glowing. That is why I called you Sunshine.” 

Your face flames even hotter now if that were even possible. Another slow cooling breeze passes over you, this time down the side of one cheek. The source is clear this time. Tendrils of smoky shadow pass through your peripheral vision as the coast over your shoulder. Before a thought could fully form in your mind, he slips to your side.

“May I escort you?” Your attention falls to the shadows that twine around the elbow he offers you.

“To the inn? Where I’m staying?”

“Did you have another place in mind?” His mouth quirks up on one side with a dangerous glint in his eye.

You shake your head a bit as your brain kicks back into gear. “If the night is so young, how come you are out here offering to walk me home?”

Azriel laughs. His chin tilted up, you can’t help but to notice that smooth expanse of tattooed neck. 

“You caught me Sunshine,” he says, bringing his gaze back to you. “It just so happens that a little birdie told me –” He leans down, lips dangerously close to your ear.

“- that you might have a little crush on me.”

If your skin could get any hotter you would burst into flame, right here in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Mor really should keep her mouth shut,” you spit out in a sudden burst of anger. 

“It wasn’t Mor who told me,” he says as he straightens.

“Then who?”  You tilt your head to look at him, confused. Outside of Mor, your other friends had no reason to randomly approach someone from the Inner Circle.

“Like I said Sunshine, a little birdie told me.” With a flick of his wrist he holds out his hand, index finger extended in a point. A vortex of shadow swirls above it, forming into a tiny bird. Wings flapping as it lands on his finger like a perch. 

You crack out a sharp laugh. “Spymaster. Right. I should have known. Well, like I told Mor –” you peer at him with a mischievous grin. “There is no harm in looking.”

In an instant, Azriel spins to face you fully. One arm smoothly planted to brace against the brick wall behind you. “So you aren’t denying it then? You do have a crush on me?”

Your head is spinning, your heart pounding, no witty comebacks spring into your mind. The only thing forming is a low heat in your belly.

“No, I’m not denying it.” you say breathlessly.

“Well,” he starts, staring right into your eyes. “It just so happens Sunshine, the feeling is mutual. And while there may be no harm in looking.” He leans closer, his finger glides down the side of your face before hooking under your chin. “It’s so much more fun to touch.” 

Before you can utter a single word, his lips are brushing over yours. The first tender kiss lands softly against the pillow of your lips, barely any pressure behind it. The second has you reciprocating with a gentle push of your own. The third is what causes all thoughts to flee and a sigh escapes your throat.

You feel his lips pull into a smile against your own. “Don’t you agree?”

You stand there frozen. Dazed, head empty. “I’m sorry,” you breathe. “I forgot the question.”

Azriel releases another low chuckle and again the vibration coasts over your skin. This time suspiciously close to your ear.

“I said,” he rumbles as you feel his nose brushing against your hair. “It’s so much more fun to touch isn’t it?”

The tip of his nose begins dragging lower, like a cold piece of ice sliding down your heated neck.

“Azriel, wait –” you say sharply.

He pulls back and stares into your face again. “What’s wrong, Sunshine? Did I do something wrong?” A sly grin across his classically beautiful face. “You’re standing here like you’ve never been kissed before or something.” 

The only answer is your bewildered stare, another bloom of color rising to your cheeks.

He jerks back slightly in shock. The look quickly covered with that impenetrably impassive mask so familiar to the Spymaster of the Night Court.

“There’s – I mean, the right – it’s just never come up before,” you stammer with a shake of your head. 

You watch as a heat reaches his face. The flame igniting not across his cheeks, but in his eyes.

“Sunshine,” he whispers softly, his finger still hooked under your chin. “Was that your first kiss?”

Once again, your words fail you.

Pushing off from the arm bracing the wall, Azriel brings both hands to the center of his chest. “I am honored to be your first,” he says nodding into a slight bow. “And maybe – if you so desire –” the sensual tone of his voice deepens. “I could be part of many more firsts for you.”

That flame of need is still bright within his eyes.The inferno no longer blazes up your neck and face as it doubles low in your belly, slipping down and settling squarely between your thighs. 

Isn’t this what you wanted? What you had fantasized about for weeks after that first initial sighting of him? Isn’t his voice after he first introduced himself to you the one you replayed over and over in your head? That deep timbre inside your brain as you ached for some privacy in the overcrowded dormitory to touch yourself? It’s not like you were saving yourself for any particular reason, it had just never happened.

“Yes,” you breathe in a shudder. “I do so desire.”

The flame in his eyes flares higher as he turns to stand at your side, a feline smile pulling at his lips. Azriel offers you his elbow once more. With your eyes still on his face, drinking in the crinkle near his eye and the tilt of his mouth, you slip your hand smoothly into the crook of his arm. 

Before you can even lift your leg to step, blackness surrounds you. What were once wispy strands of shadow now surround you like a sheet, obscuring the street around you from view. You draw in a gasp. This was not the winnowing you were accustomed to. It felt entirely different although not necessarily in a bad way. Yet before your gasp could be released fully, the blackness receded and you stared about you in wonder.

The cobblestones beneath your feet were replaced with gleaming hardwood, the chill of the winter night gone. A fire was already burning in the fireplace as you scanned the room before you.

“This isn’t the inn,” you state as you finally release your breath. 

“No. It isn’t,” Azriel rumbles out another laugh as he releases your arm. “I thought you’d prefer a little more privacy. Plus the beds at the inn aren’t exactly made for wings.” He shuffles his wings with a sly smile as he turns to you.

“You know from experience?,” you smirk.

“Does that bother you?,” he asks seriously as he steps closer. The usual buffer between bodies cut in half, you can feel the heat of him radiating.

“Does me being – inexperienced bother you?” Another rush of color floods your face and you press your still chilled knuckles to your cheek in frustration.

“No,” his tone is still serious as he gently removes your hand from your face. “It doesn’t bother me.” The fingers held so tenderly in his are brought to his lips, the same sweet pressure from his kiss earlier laid on the back of your hand. “It’s – intoxicating.”

You feel your breaths shorten as he steps even closer, his front pressing against yours. Azriel drops your hand and brings his up to your chin once more, this time tilting your head to the side. His other arm snakes around your waist. 

“Knowing you’re allowing me to bring you pleasure,” his warm lips brush against the side of your neck. “Pleasure you have never known before,” his kisses shift lower. “That it’s my name you will cry out as I give it to you,” his teeth graze your collarbone and his wings tremble with his words. 

“Azriel,” you sigh, leaning your head back even further. 

Sliding his hand from your face to the nape of your neck, his face comes up to meet yours. “We are just getting started, Sunshine.”

His lips crash into yours just as you bring your arms up to his shoulders. Gone are the trailing soft kisses. This is just need. Bruising, nipping, need. Your tongue meets his as it enters your mouth, searching. You push back as he deepens the kiss further, needing to be closer. Wanting more. Your hands slip into his hair, threading between your fingers as you try to get closer. 

He breaks the kiss just for a moment to reach down and grasp your thighs, hauling you up to wrap your legs around him before he eagerly returns. Your grip around his neck tightens as you hold on, your heaving chest pressed up against his. You feel him moving and in a moment you’re being lowered to the bed, mattress meeting your back. 

As he pulls himself away, standing upright before you, you notice the damp stain left on the front of his dark shirt. Right where your thighs had been spread around his waist. As he unbuttons his shirt his gaze drops down to where you are looking and he runs his thumb over the wetness there. 

His shirt now tossed aside, he steps near you again. Hands sliding up the outside of your thighs to your hips, the fabric of your dress bunching as he pushes it up.

“No need to be embarrassed.” He says as he sits you up so that he can gather your dress over your head. “You're about to be dripping on much more than my shirt.” 

As he tosses your dress over on the floor with his shirt, he peers down at you, just looking, hands held still at his sides.

“So fucking beautiful.” His hand reaches out and caresses your breast, filling his palm with its weight before drawing his thumb across your tight nipple. The sensation causes you to gasp and you feel it in your core. He seems to be lost in thought for just a moment before he leans over quickly, snatching the pillows from the head of the bed and tucking them directly behind you. 

“Lay back,” his voice barely above a whisper. You follow his instruction, your body angled so that you are sitting up partially on the edge of the bed. “I want you to watch as I make you come undone, Sunshine. I want you to remember who put that look of bliss on your face.”

As he speaks, that swirling sheet of shadow moves behind him along the wall. As they fade back into their usual state and return to his shoulders, you see that a large full length mirror is left in their wake. Azriel drops to his knees beside the bed as you take in the sight before you. His broad muscular shoulders kneeling before you, wings tucked in tight. His hands snaking along your hips and your face flushed with arousal. 

One scarred hand nudges at your knees and you spread open, watching reflection as you do. That same hand now moves to your soaked panties, one index finger sliding through the gusset and his knuckle brushing softly against the outside of your folds.

“All this for me, Sunshine?” It comes out like a growl. With a pull, that finger begins lowering your panties down your thighs. You bring your knees together just long enough to slip them off completely before you spread wide once more. 

In one swift motion, Azriel’s hands are under your knees and you are being pulled to the very edge of the bed. He hooks one leg over his shoulder and the other he pushes firmly wider. You don’t even have a chance to react before his face is at your core, his tongue lapping at your arousal.

You squeak out a sound of surprise and you feel a muffled laugh against you. The vibration of which turns your sound into a moan. His tongue has parted your folds now, making a slow circuit around your engorged clit. 

“Is this what you thought about as you touched yourself?” He doesn’t even lift his head as he speaks. Your moans continue as your head falls back and your eyes close. He breaks the circuit of his tongue to dip down toward your entrance. 

“How quickly did you come with your fingers while you imagined my face between your legs, Sunshine?” Returning to that sensitive bud once more, his tongue picks up a fevered pace. The cry that leaves your throat is positively sinful and your leg begins shaking against the palm that holds it open. 

You feel his tongue curling, cradling your clit just before he pulls it into his mouth and sucks. The leg you have over his shoulder tenses, pulling his body closer to your core. With a pop he releases and brings his eyes up to your face. 

“Watch,” he says with authority. Just the tone of his voice has you practically vibrating. 

You follow his command as he lowers his head. You stare at the image before you. His hand pressing into the flesh of your trembling thigh. His tongue picks up that pace once more and you see yourself shudder as you moan. Releasing the grip you have on the sheets, you bring your hands up to his head, staring at the sight of your skin against the black hair as you thread your fingers through.

The picture is – intoxicating. Just like he said. On the edge of the first orgasm you haven’t given yourself, you fixate on the bob of his head between your thighs, your breasts heaving with your labored breath, the sweat beginning to glisten against your skin. 

It’s too much. Quicker than you’ve ever been able to finish before, you feel that tightening in your belly rushing you towards the finish line. Azriel’s tongue dips again into your entrance before resuming his pull at your clit with a groan. 

“Azriel,” you pant out. “Oh, Az– I–”

“That’s it, Sunshine, keep watching,” he says quickly before returning to his task. Just as you feel that familiar flutter starting, you feel a finger at your entrance pushing in. 

You choke on a gasp as his finger fills the void and begins curling inside you. Clenching your fingers you pull at his hair, eliciting a deep moan from his chest. One more curl of his finger and you are falling over the edge. You watch in the mirror as your face twists into pleasure, your muscles contract and you pull your leg tight against his back. Your other leg now trembling freely as his hand moves up to your hip. The ripples of pleasure draw out as you watch, longer and longer until you are pulling yourself upright by the grip on his hair. 

“Azriel!” you cry out in a sob. The orgasm gives one final wave before you fall back onto the pillows, releasing your hold on him. He lifts his face from your core, but the finger inside you remains. Gently, slowly he continues pushing it in and out of you, the sound of your release squishing around it. You shudder with aftershocks at his continued movements.

“How did you like seeing me between your thighs? Was it everything you imagined?” You can hear the smile in his voice as you gather your breath. 

“It was –” you sigh out at a loss for more words. 

He halts his movements, pulling his hand from your body. Then Azriel is standing before you, grabbing your hips and shifting you to the head of the bed. Bringing his knees up to the mattress and crawling over you he asks, “How many firsts was that, Sunshine?”

He settles his weight over you, the hard length of him evident against your core. Wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer, you laugh. “I lost count.”

Az’s face breaks out into a bright smile as he brings his mouth to yours. Tongues searching, heads tilting before he pulls away nearly a full minute later. “The night is still young, Sunshine, what’s next on your list?”

He gives a testing thrust against and you laugh once more as you wrap your legs around him in answer. 

****

Hours later, you wake in the pitch black of the dead of night, a muscular arm wrapped around you and a wing slung over your body. Pushing gently against the hard chest in front of your face, you start to push up to sitting. The arm around you tightens, pulling you back to the mattress. 

“What time is it?” you ask.

“Not time for you to rise yet, Sunshine. Go back to sleep,” Azriel’s half asleep voice is even sexier than the one he whispered in your ear with earlier. 

“I should go.”

“You don’t really want to walk the streets back to the inn at this hour do you?” He smiles sleepily as he cracks an eye open. He would winnow you if you wished, but he couldn’t resist teasing. 

“No, I mean – I’m heading back home to Day Court today,” you snuggle back into that hard chest again. “But I don’t want to.”

That sleepy smile graces his face once more as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “So don’t.”

[thewulf]

The Quiet Between || Azriel

Summary: Request -Hiyaaa loved your Az story. So freaking good. I had one in mind and wonder if you could write it? Maybe some deep Azriel and reader angst? I'm picturing a scene where Azriel, drowning under his duties and secrets snaps harshly at the reader, our newest healer at the Night Court when she gently suggests he talks about what’s weighing on him. His words sting, making her doubt her role at the court... Read Rest Here

A/N: Whew this was challenging to write but I really love how it turned out! Please let me know how you like it below. And as always, keep sending in your requests!

Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (Dawn Court Reader)

Word Count: 6.2k +

TW: Mean Az, Harsh Words (soft ending!)

When Madja, the esteemed healer of the Night Court, realized the growing demands of her duties required an apprentice she petitioned the High Lord for permission to seek out a promising candidate. Her search led her to Dawn Court where your skills and unique approach to healing caught her attention. Impressed, as she often wasn’t, she offered you the chance to study under her. A chance to take over for her in a few hundred years. It was a proposition that both excited and terrified you. Normally you were more risk-averse but something within urged you not to let this opportunity slip by. Accepting the offer might be a decision you'd regret forever if declined.

Your arrival at the Night Court was a mix of awe and overwhelming pressure. You were acutely aware of the Court’s reputation with its warriors and schemers, and its dances of politics and power. Yet, as the years unfolded you found more than just acceptance. You found a place where you felt like you just might belong. Madja was an exacting teacher and under her guidance you thrived. Your skills became indispensable to the Night Court.

Mor, your favorite social butterfly, took it upon herself to integrate you into the Court's vibrant life. She invited you out with the girls to Rita's where the music and laughter helped weave you deeper into the fabric of Night Court society. Cassian with his easy grin and boundless energy offered to train you in physical defense. He said it was essential for everyone at the Court to know how to protect themselves. And even Rhysand himself showed you how to fortify your mental shields as a necessary skill amidst the intrigues that often played out around them.

Yet despite these warm inclusions, Azriel was the only one who kept a cautious distance. The shadowy spymaster was polite but reserved. He often watched you with a contemplative gaze that suggested he was trying to figure you out from a safe distance. His reluctance to engage was not overtly hostile but it was clear he held reservations. His own shadows clinging too tightly, perhaps, to allow another close. This delicate balance of respect and curiosity marked your interactions, or lack thereof, with the spymaster. You often caught glimpses of Azriel as his presence like a whisper in the vast halls of the Court. He was always just out of reach, both physically and emotionally. His aloofness didn't hinder your duties. But it did create a space of unanswered questions in your mind.

One cool evening in the Night Court the opportunity to bridge that distance between him presented itself unexpectedly. Azriel returned from a particularly grueling mission. His arrival unannounced except for the quiet clatter of his boots in the hallway of the healer's quarters. As he pushed open the door, the grimace etched across his face spoke volumes of the pain he was enduring, both visible and hidden beneath the surface.

You ushered him in, your professional demeanor in place yet your heart beating a tad faster with the realization that this was the closest you had ever been to him. His usually guarded expression was replaced with a rare, unguarded grimace of pain. It revealed a vulnerability he typically masked beneath layers of shadows and silence making you feel a touch uneasy.

"Let me help," you offered softly while guiding him to a seat where you could better assess his injuries. The proximity to him in this moment tending to his wound felt like an unspoken permission to finally address the silent questions that had lingered between you. It was an opening to understand the man who had so thoroughly perfected the art of being untouchable.

"Let's take a look at that," you murmur while taking his hand in yours. Your hands are steady and careful as you gently peel away the fabric near his wound. The cut isn't deep, but it's laced with poison, enough to have caused significant discomfort. “I’m sorry. This is going to sting.” You whispered as you rushed off to grab the needed supplies.

As you apply a soothing salve you notice Azriel's clenched jaw and the way his muscles tighten under your touch—not just from the sting of the wound. You've seen warriors in all states, and you recognize the signs of inner turmoil as clearly as physical injuries.

"Azriel," you start, your voice soft but firm, "even the strongest warriors can benefit from sharing their burdens. It doesn't make you weak to speak about what's weighing on your heart." You try and sound confident in your words, but it comes out as meek.

His reaction is immediate and sharp. It cut through the air like a freshly sharpened knife. Azriel's eyes snap up to meet your with a coldness in them that freezes you in place. "You think you have the right to offer me counsel?" he says with his voice low and biting. "You, who have barely seen a fraction of the darkness I have faced. Yet you presume to understand my duties, my sacrifices?"

You open your mouth to apologize. To clarify your intentions but he doesn't give you the chance. "No, don’t," he snaps. Cutting you off as your heart begins to sink. "Don’t patronize me with platitudes and naive compassion. You know nothing of the burdens I carry. Of the secrets that consume me. You see surface wounds and think to heal a soul scarred by centuries?" It was the most you had heard him speak and unfortunately for you those words made your heart nearly twist in two. Surely that wasn’t what you were trying to do.

Your eyes begin to burn. His words slicing through any defense you might have had. You look down instead focusing on the bandage. To hide the hurt that’s welling up, threatening to spill over. "I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—"

"Save your apologies," Azriel interrupts with a tone as harsh as a winter storm. "They mean nothing in the face of what I endure daily. You wish to help? Do so by not overstepping your bounds again." You drop his arm after finishing up removing the poison and sealing the cut. But he wasn’t done, no. You just wished he’d fly away instead of cutting you even deeper. You had no intention of offending him yet here he was, hurt by your very own words. You’d never truly felt like a helpless child in all your centuries until this very moment.

As he continues his words grow even colder, each one a deliberate stake right into your very own heart. "Understand this, healer. My life, my pains are not fodder for idle chatter or curious minds seeking to 'fix' what they perceive as broken. You cannot begin to comprehend the wars I fight within the shadows. Wars meant to protect you and everyone else here from horrors you should hope never to encounter." His words were final, offering you no chance at rebuttal. Not that you would have been able to find the words. Your mind was racing in horror about what had just transpired in your very own healing hall. You, the one who was meant to mend broken souls might’ve just torn his right back open.

He stands abruptly with his wound tended but the air around him colder than the stone walls of the court. His departure is swift, leaving a wake of silence so deep it echoes through the chamber. You're left alone with the sting of his rebuke more painful than any physical wound you've treated. His words replay in your mind as a harsh reminder of the chasm between his world of shadows and your desire to heal. Guilt begins to consume you as you replay the words that struck you so hardly in your mind.

The room feels overwhelmingly empty as you struggle to compose yourself. The impact of his dismissal weighing heavily on your heart. You realize that healing Azriel might be beyond your reach. Not for lack of skill, but because the wounds he carries are far deeper and more complex than you ever imagined. Perplexed and deeply hurt you find yourself grappling with a tumult of emotions. Confusion is the first to surface. You had approached the situation with genuine concern. Your offer to listen driven by the empathy that defines your role as a healer. His aggressive response, then, feels like an undeserved refusal. A dismissal not just of your words but of your very intent.

You replay the conversation in your mind, dissecting each exchange, each barbed word. His accusation that you, nestled in your world of herbs and healing, could never understand the scope of his darkness stings sharply. It's true though you realize. That the depths of his secrets are beyond your grasp. This acknowledgment doesn't ease the sting of rejection. If anything, it deepens the wound. You had not claimed to understand. You only wanted to listen. And yet, he had cut you off, leaving no room for reconciliation.

As the initial shock fades, a deeper, more persistent ache settles in. You're hurt. Undeniably so. Hurt by his insinuation that your attempts at comfort were trivial, naive even. Does he truly see you as just another court member? As just a healer? Naive to the true workings of his world? The thought is disheartening, and you feel a profound sense of isolation creeping in. A sense that perhaps you are out of your depth in this court of shadows and secrets. Perhaps your mother was right. You weren’t built for the Night Court. You had a wonderful, easy life in Dawn. She had even picked out a high-ranking husband for you that would’ve provided and kept you safe. Her nagging words pricked at the back of your mind as the last five years here almost fell all for nothing. Five years was no time in the world of fae, you knew this. You were still the new healer, but you had thought that maybe you were finally finding your footing here. But then again maybe you were wrong.

Yet, beyond the hurt and confusion there's also a glimmer of resolve. You're a healer, trained not only to mend wounds but to understand the people you treat. Azriel's outburst, though harsh, reveals more than his disdain. It highlights his immense burden. His profound isolation. Perhaps your approach was too direct. Too unguarded for someone so accustomed to concealing his emotions.

As you clean up the space a quiet resolution forms in your mind. You won't push him again, no, not without invitation. The sting of his words lingers, and you decide that perhaps the best way to handle this is to give him the space he seems to fiercely guard. He may have dismissed your concern today but it's clear that what he desires most is distance. Not the compassion you offered. In this moment of reflection, you recognize the complexity of healing. It’s not just about tending to visible wounds. It’s also about understanding when to step back. Recognizing that some scars are too deeply etched to be approached without consent. Azriel has his walls, high and fortified. And you, you decide, will no longer attempt to scale them. Instead, you resolve to avoid him, believing that distancing yourself is the kindest thing you can do for him right now.

This decision doesn't come easy. You're a healer, trained to offer solace and aid to those in pain. Yet, in this case, the healing you want to provide is not welcomed or perhaps even needed in the way you thought. You accept that sometimes healing means stepping back. It means allowing wounds to close in the solitude they were opened in. Maybe with time he will seek you out if ever he feels ready to lower his guard. Until then you'll focus on those who welcome your help carrying with you the lesson that sometimes the best way to care for someone is simply to let them be.

After the confrontation in the healing room the atmosphere at the Night Court seemed to shift becoming dense with an unspoken tension that hung heavily in the air. Azriel quickly became burdened by the discomfort of his own harshness. It wasn’t often but he felt an acute sting of regret. His words, sharper and colder than he had intended, replayed relentlessly in his mind. Each sentence an echo of a reminder of the pain he had inflicted on somebody so kind.

Late into the night he found himself wandering the quieter corridors of the court trying to clear his mind.. The stone beneath his feet was cold and unyielding much like the mask he wore so well. With each step he attempted to outpace his regret, but solitude brought no relief. The memory of the genuine shock and sadness in your eyes haunted him. A vivid image that refused to fade into the shadows where he so often retreated.

Why had he lashed out? Azriel questioned himself. His normally composed thoughts unraveling with unusual disorder. He knew the stress of his duties as the spymaster often left him on edge, a blade perpetually sharpened and ready. Yet, it was more than just the strain of his role. It was the fear of vulnerability. Of opening those darker parts of himself he fought so hard to control. Seeing your concern, so innocent and genuine, had somehow threatened the walls he had meticulously built around his emotions for centuries. He couldn’t become undone by your one simple question.

He hated himself for how he had responded to you. How his instinct to protect his inner turmoil had manifested as cruelty towards you. The more he thought about it the more he despised the part of himself that had become so adept at pushing others away, especially those who dared to care.

As Azriel continued his nocturnal wanderings the shadows around him seemed to whisper of solitude and sorrow. Yet, it was the sorrow in your eyes that lingered most prominently in his mind. He realized then that his actions might not only have hurt you but could also have damaged whatever budding respect or friendship could have grown between you. This thought tightened the already constricting band around his chest. He had messed up badly and he knew it. His shadows knew it.

Resolving to seek redemption, not just for his peace but to mend the fracture he had caused, Azriel decided he would apologize to you. He needed to explain to you. To make you understand that his outburst wasn’t a reflection of his feelings towards you but a misguided defense against his own insecurities.

His journey through the night didn’t erase his regrets, but it solidified his resolve. He would try to bridge the gap his words had created hoping that you would understand and perhaps forgive. In the quiet before dawn Azriel finally stopped walking, the decision firm in his mind. Tomorrow, he would face you again, not as the Night Court's daunting spymaster, but simply as Azriel… imperfect and remorseful.

As he moved silently past the gardens the moonlight cast a serene glow over the night-blooming flowers illuminating the path with a ghostly light. Drawn by the soft, muffled sounds of distress his shadows unconsciously steered him towards a secluded alcove hidden by tendrils of ivy and the long shadows of the towering trees. It was unmistakably you. His heart tightened as he approached. Driven by a mix of concern and a need to understand the impact of his earlier harshness.

There in the dim light, he found you seated on a small bench. You were not alone, but with one of the younger assistants from the healer's quarters he had recognized. The assistant, whom you often mentored, sat beside you with a hand on your shoulder. Her presence meant to support you as you struggled with a flood of emotions.

"I don’t know any more Helena. Maybe I just don't belong here," you whispered between sobs. Your voice shaky with uncertainty. Tears streamed down your cheeks unrestrained after holding them back for so long. Azriel's words had not just stung. They had acted as a dam break, releasing all the pent-up doubts and fears you had about your place in this illustrious court. "I keep thinking maybe I should just go back to Dawn. My very own mother always said I was chasing a fantasy coming here. Maybe she's right. Maybe a quieter life away from all this would be better for me. Maybe I’m not cut out for the Night Court."

The young assistant, Helena, looked up to you not only for your healing skills but also for your kindness and leadership. She listened intently. Her expression one of deep empathy and concern. "You can't think that way," she responded softly. Her voice earnest. "Everyone here, especially Madja, respects you so much. Cassian, Mor, even Rhysand—they all see how much you bring to our home. It's not just you’re healing. It's your spirit. You're meant to be here with us. Please don’t think like that. I’ve learned more than I ever thought possible from you. We need you here."

Her comforting words were meant to bolster your spirits, but the reassurance felt hollow against the backdrop of your raw emotions. Despite her encouraging tone, the doubts seeded by Azriel's harsh outburst lingered. They tainted your thoughts with shadows of uncertainty about your place in this world you had grown to love yet still sometimes felt alien in.

Azriel was hidden just out of sight. He felt a deep pang of regret as he listened. The raw pain in your voice and the sight of your tears struck him more profoundly than he had ever expected. He realized then that his careless words had cut far deeper than he had intended, not just challenging your confidence but piercing the very core of your sense of belonging. Knowing that an apology would be necessary but not sufficient, Azriel resolved to actively show that you were valued and essential. Not just as a healer but as a vital member of their community. His thoughts solidified in the quiet of the night. He would make amends, starting with a heartfelt apology and followed by actions that would hopefully restore your faith in your place at the Night Court.

It was an ordinary yet busy day in the healer's quarters of the Night Court. You were deeply focused on tending to a young fae warrior who had sustained a minor but painful injury during training. As you carefully applied a healing salve the sound of urgent voices and heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway.

"He needs help now!" Azriel's voice carried a tone of dire urgency as he burst into the room. He was supporting a limping Cassian whose leg was bleeding profusely from a deep gash surely laced with poison. These damn Illyrians always coming back with some form of poisoned injury. The sight of such an injury would normally have you on your feet and rushing over. But the presence of Azriel, the harbinger of your recent heartache, gave you pause.

For a split second your gaze met Azriel's and the memory of his harsh words and cold dismissal surged through your mind. You looked away as quickly as you could. Your chest immediately tightened with anxiety at the thought of what to do. It wasn’t fair to Cassian to ignore him, but you didn’t think you could face Azriel right now. Terrified of another confrontation and still raw from the last you quickly turned your attention back to the young fae before you.

"This one's in a critical state, I need to focus here. Helena, please attend to the General." you called out your voice slightly louder than necessary. The lie laid bitter on your tongue. It wasn't entirely untrue. His injury did need attention, but it certainly wasn't as dire as Cassian's condition.

Helena, who had followed in behind Azriel and Cassian, quickly stepped forward to assist, sensing the tension. "I've got him, don't worry," she spoke as she moved to tend to Cassian with a swift efficiency that you were grateful for.

As you focused intently on the young fae's injury with your back turned to the drama unfolding behind you, you heard every strained whisper and shuffling footstep echoed ominously. Despite your efforts to concentrate your mind spun with anxiety and dread. You knew your actions were a protective shield guarding you from a confrontation you felt unprepared to handle.

Behind you, Azriel's concern for Cassian was palpable. His usual stoic demeanor was pierced by urgency. His voice a low, constant murmur as he assisted your assistant. Yet, his mind was partly on you. He was troubled by the palpable tension and the rigid set of your shoulders. The memory of his previous harshness towards you weighed heavily on him, mixing regret with a newfound caution. He wondered if his actions had broken something essential. Perhaps fearing that your trust in him might be irreparably damaged.

Cassian, despite his pain noticed the strained dynamics as well. As your assistant worked on his wound his eyes flicked towards you, then back to Azriel. "What happened between you two?" he hissed under his breath not missing the unusual distance you kept. Azriel's silence was an answer in itself. It was filled with remorse and resignation. Cassian's frown deepened. Concern for his friends overshadowing his physical discomfort. "You need to fix this, Az," he muttered, firm yet worried. "She’s not just any healer. She’s part of this family now. She’s going to replace Madja someday."

Once the immediate crisis was handled and Cassian was stable Azriel made his way towards you. His steps were hesitant, each one heavy with regret. When he paused by your side his presence felt like a cold shadow. His usual warmth for his family became obscured by the barrier that had formed between you.

"Thank you," he said softly. His voice low and perhaps understanding more than you wanted him to. "For all that you do here." You sucked in a breath at his words. Was he apologizing? Was he sorry? Were you completely misreading the situation yet again?

You didn't turn to face him. Fear of what you might see in his eyes—anger, disappointment, or worse, indifference—kept you fixed in place. "Of course," you managed to whisper. The words barely escaping your lips. He sensed that this wasn’t the time nor place to dig deeper so he resolved to keep his words simple. He would find you later when you weren’t busy working. He truly needed to apologize to you.

After he left the weight of the encounter settled heavily upon you. You felt a mix of relief at having avoided direct confrontation and a deep-seated guilt for your evasion. You knew this wasn't just about professional duties. It was about the fractures within a team, a family you had grown to cherish.

Later, as the healer’s quarters quieted and the evening settled in, Cassian found you in the gardens, where the night’s cool air seemed to echo the chill in your own thoughts. It was your favorite place to relax and unwind. Your sanctuary in the chaos that was the Night Court. He approached with a confident stride despite his recent injury and his expression was serious.

"Hey," he started. His voice carrying a hint of his usual directness mixed with concern. "Things were off between you and Az today. He’s worried, and frankly, so am I. We’ve all had our rough patches, but we don’t let that drive a wedge between us. Yeah?"

You paused, looking down at your growing herbs rather than meeting his gaze. You let out a soft sigh before answering him. "I’m just scared, Cass. I’m worried I’ll say the wrong thing again. It’s like... I’m tiptoeing around landmines with him. How do I even start to fix that?"

Cassian nodded. His features softening slightly. "Az can be intense. I won’t argue with that. But he’s also one of the most upright guys I know. Just be honest with him. Tell him you’re trying to avoid making things worse. He respects straightforwardness. Always has." He took a step closer, lowering his voice. "And remember, it’s not just about avoiding the landmines. It’s about clearing the field. Start with the truth. It’s always been the best foundation for us here, no matter how hard it might be."

You nodded appreciating his words. He was right. The truth got you so much further. "Thanks, Cass," you replied feeling a resolve begin to form. "I think I’ll talk to him. Just lay everything out."

"That’s the way," Cassian said with a brief nod. "We’re all here together, and we keep no secrets... save Azriel,” He smirked knowing that’s likely what got the two of you in the situation in the first place. “At least not the kind that hurt. If you're honest, he’ll listen. And if there’s anyone who can understand the value of facing hard truths, it’s Azriel."

As Cassian left you to your thoughts the weight on your shoulders didn't lift entirely but you felt more prepared to face the challenge ahead. Honesty would be your approach; you would share your fears with Azriel, hoping that it would bridge the gap between you. After all, in the Night Court, even the darkest shadows were faced together, not alone.

The next night you found yourself back in the serene confines of your herb garden where the evening light softened the edges of each leaf and petal. You were deeply absorbed in tending to a cluster of chamomile. The quiet focus on your plants provided a necessary reprieve from the swirling anxieties that had occupied your thoughts lately. However, your calm shattered when a shadow loomed unexpectedly over you. Azriel.

Startled, you looked up, only to find him standing there watching you with a curiosity you’d never seen from him before. His sudden presence was imposing and unexpectedly close and sent a rush of panic through you. His height and the intensity in his eyes seemed to fill the space making the air around you feel thinner.

"Oh! Azriel, you surprised me! I didn’t hear you walk over," you blurted out. A nervous chuckle escaping you as you hastily tried to gather your scattered wits. "I was just, um, focusing here, and—you know, plants don’t really talk back, so I guess I wasn't expecting any company."

He paused after noting your discomfort. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you," he said gently. His voice a soothing rumble. "I came to apologize. For the last time we spoke. I was too harsh. It was unfair to you."

Your response tumbled out in a rush. Your words tripping over each other. "No, no, it’s fine, really. I mean, not fine fine, but you know… I should’ve been more aware or something. I’m usually not this jumpy, I swear. Maybe a little—actually, maybe a lot right now because, well, you're kind of, um, imposing? And this wasn’t how I imagined our next conversation going..."

Azriel’s slight smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it did appear to carry a hint of amusement at your rambling. "I appreciate you saying that, but truly, I am the one who should be apologizing. I’ve thought a lot about what I said... and I regret it deeply. You didn’t deserve that." He took another step toward you as you stood.

You swallowed hard trying to steady your racing heart. "Why are you apologizing now?" you managed to ask feeling suddenly very aware of how close he was standing. The question felt bold, but your voice was anything but confident.

He took a slight step back giving you a bit more space. "Because I realized I might have made you feel unwelcome or undervalued here and that’s… that’s the last thing I want. We all need to support each other, and I failed in that moment. I want to make it right if you’ll let me."

Your mind raced with every thought, but you nodded feeling a mix of apprehension and relief. "I... yeah, I’d like that. I’ve been feeling a bit lost here. Like maybe I don’t belong. It’s been tough, and, well, your words stung. But maybe, I don’t know, maybe we can start over? Try to understand each other a bit more?" As you offered him a tentative smile the garden seemed to return to its peaceful state. The earlier tension dissipating slightly.

Azriel’s gaze softened with a rare flicker of amusement lighting his eyes as he noticed your unease. "You handle the complexities of healing with such ease," he commented with a slight tease in his voice, "yet you seem quite disarmed by a rather simple conversation."

You gave a small self-conscious laugh appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. "Well, it's one thing to deal with herbs and potions. They tend not to talk back. It's another to navigate apologies and emotions. Especially with someone who usually keeps his cards so close to his chest."

He smiled and it transformed his face, softening the usual stern lines. "Fair enough," he conceded. Then, his expression turned more serious. The playful glint replaced by a depth of sincerity. "I really am sorry, though. For everything. I know I keep saying it, but it’s because I mean it. I’ve been... difficult towards you these last few years. And I don’t want to burden you with the things I’ve carried. Of the decisions I've had to make. It’s not your weight to bear."

You listened, understanding dawning as you saw the heavy cloak of responsibility he wore. Something that was so integral to his identity yet so isolating. "Maybe not," you replied softly, "but sharing those burdens doesn’t mean you're passing them on. It just means you’re not alone with them anymore. We can share without it being a burden. Sometimes, sharing is how we heal."

Azriel looked at you with something like wonder flickering in his gaze. "I suppose you’re right," he admitted. "It’s just not easy for me. I’ve always thought keeping my troubles to myself was a way to protect others. But maybe... maybe I’ve been wrong about that." The conversation deepened as each of you explored the nuances of forgiveness and the strength found in mutual understanding and empathy. Azriel learned about the power of vulnerability. Not as a spymaster but as a man. And he saw how your empathy and gentle nature enriched the court in ways that strategy and strength could not.

"I've kept many secrets," Azriel confessed. His voice a soft murmur against the backdrop of rustling leaves. "Not because I enjoy the solitude but because I fear the consequences of those secrets unraveling."

"You don’t have to tell me everything," you assured him. "Just knowing that you trust me enough to admit you have these secrets is a step. We all have secrets Azriel. What matters is how we face them and who stands with us when we do."

Azriel nodded. The corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he smiled. A real smile that reached his eyes. "Thank you for understanding."

You nodded but still felt a nagging question at the bottom of your heart. The gardens around you seemed to hold their breath as you voiced a concern that had been shadowing your thoughts. "Azriel, back when you... when you were upset. You called me 'healer.' Is that… is that all you see me as?" Your insecurity got the better of you. The question sounded so much more childish as you asked it aloud, but you needed to know the answer.

Azriel’s expression changed instantly. The regret in his eyes unmistakable. "Gods, I am so sorry, Y/N. I was angry and overwhelmed and I unfairly took it out on you." His voice was thick with remorse. His usual stoicism giving way to a rare openness. "You are so much more than just a healer to us, to me. I should never have made you feel otherwise." Seeing the sincerity in his gaze you felt a complex knot of emotions begin to untangle. Yet, there was still a shadow of sadness in your eyes. A remnant of the hurt his words had caused.

Noticing this, Azriel did something completely unexpected. He stepped closer. His presence enveloping you whole, and hesitantly, almost awkwardly he opened his arms. "May I?" he asked softly giving you the choice.

With a small nod you stepped into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. It was a rare gesture from him as he was known for his guarded nature. It spoke volumes of his regret and his desire to make amends. His shadows ever a part of him, seemed to curl around the both of you gently. A comforting whisper against your skin.

As you stood there held in his careful embrace Azriel spoke again, his voice gentler than you had ever heard. "I’m truly sorry, Y/N. For everything. I let my anger and frustrations dictate my actions and you bore the brunt of that. I promise you this, I will do better. You deserve better."

Pulling back slightly he looked down into your eyes, ensuring you could see the truth in his. "Thank you for giving me the chance to apologize, to make things right. I don’t take your forgiveness lightly."

Your heart that was once heavy with doubt and hurt now fluttered with a burgeoning sense of renewed connection. "Thank you, Azriel, for understanding, for this," you said, your voice steady despite the emotions brimming within.

This conversation that was once a tentative path to reconciliation had blossomed into something deeper. A genuine connection fostered by understanding and shared vulnerabilities. Azriel's willingness to show his softer side, to bridge the gap with both an apology and a hug, marked a new chapter in your relationship. One filled with potential for even greater understanding and closeness. Together in the quiet of the herb garden you both began to navigate a path toward healing. Your relationship strengthened by the honesty and empathy of your exchange. It was a tentative step forward. One filled with potential for deeper understanding and a strengthened connection.

As the weeks turned into months, the atmosphere between you and Azriel visibly shifted. You both continued with your roles at the Night Court—Azriel, cloaked in shadows as the spymaster, and you, weaving magic and medicine as a healer. The sharp edges of earlier interactions softened replaced by a mutual respect and an unspoken understanding that grew with each passing day.

One evening during a relaxed gathering at the Night Court, the air was filled with the soft murmur of conversations and the warm laughter of friends and allies. Under the gentle glow of twilight you found yourself beside Azriel discussing something that excited you greatly—a plan for a new herb garden specifically designed for healing and restorative properties.

As you outlined your ideas your enthusiasm was palpable. "I’ve been researching some rare herbs that could thrive here under the Night’s eternal stars," you explained with your hands gesturing animatedly. "There’s this one flower, Lumina Blossom, known for its potent healing capabilities with poison but incredibly rare. I think with the right care, we could cultivate it here."

Azriel watched you with a soft smile playing on his lips as he listened intently. The usual shadows that clung to him seemed to lift slightly instead replaced by a light of curiosity sparked by your passion. It was a stark contrast to the brooding intensity he was known for. His gaze was fixed on you, clearly fascinated by your knowledge and the excitement that lit up your features.

"Have you considered adding Dawnlight Belle to your garden?" he suggested. His tone encouraging but slightly hesitant, as if he were treading on unfamiliar ground. "I've heard it's a good one. Especially for salves used in treating deep wounds, which unfortunately, we encounter often here."

You paused, your expression a mix of surprise and delight. "Azriel, I'm impressed you’ve heard of Dawnlight Belle," you said while nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, it's remarkably effective for healing deep wounds and incorporating it here would indeed be incredibly beneficial. It's also a bit of home but with a practical use for the Night Court."

Azriel’s smile widened slightly. His usual reserve melting away in the warmth of the conversation. "I thought it might be useful," he said softly. "It’s important to have pieces of home with us. And you’ve done so much to find your place here. It’s only fitting your garden does the same."

The conversation flowed easily between you as it slowly had come to. And as you spoke more about your plans Azriel's responses were thoughtful, showing his deep respect for your work. It was clear that he was not only listening but also truly engaged in what you were sharing.

As the evening wore on you found yourself more relaxed and open to discussing your hopes and dreams for the garden. Azriel's attentiveness and the sincere interest he showed in your passions brought a new depth to your interaction. A sense that something meaningful was blossoming between you, rooted in mutual respect and a shared sense of purpose.

Together you sketched out potential layouts for the garden. His strategic mind complementing your creative vision. The project that was born from a casual conversation was shaping up to be a beautiful symbol of regeneration and unity. It was a confirmation to the growing relationship forming between you as you both discovered the joy of collaboration and mutual understanding.

From across the way Cassian caught Rhysand and Feyre’s attention, nodding subtly towards you and Azriel with a wide grin. "Look at that," he chuckled. "Seems our resident shadowsinger has found a bit of light. Never thought I’d see the day."

Rhys, with a sly grin and a sparkle in his eye that matched the mischief in his voice, glanced over at you two. "Oh, I’d say there’s a bit more than just gardening going on there," he quipped as he leaned back with an air of casual intrigue. "Wouldn’t you agree, Cass? Feyre? It seems our spymaster might just be more enchanted with our lovely healer than he lets on."

Cassian laughed. His loud voice booming across the room. "You're one to talk, Rhys. Just don’t start planning their mating ceremony yet. Let them at least decide if they like each other first."

Feyre, who had been quietly observing the exchange from her place next to Rhysand, chuckled and shook her head. "She seems so good for him I must admit. But don't you dare meddle, Rhysand. We know how that turns out," she teased. Her eyes gleaming with humor. "Remember the Great Cake Incident of '49?"

The group erupted into laughter, including Rhys, who rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a grin. "Alright, alright, no meddling," he conceded. His voice still laced with laughter. "But for the record, that cake deserved better and meddling here would only help them."

The evening continued with the stars twinkling above as conversations flowed around the room. Your interaction with Azriel, now less guarded and more genuine, did not go unnoticed by those who knew him best. As the night deepened, the easy banter and shared smiles between you and Azriel spoke of something that was quietly strengthening. It was clear to everyone, even without Rhysand’s playful meddling, that something significant was blossoming. Something that went beyond the professional respect of two court members.

Together, you and Azriel discovered that even in a place as mystical and imposing as the Night Court, the true magic lay not just in ancient spells or hidden power but in the connections forged through vulnerability, trust, and perhaps, the beginnings of something deeper.

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[itsphoenix0724]

Save A Horse (Cassian x Reader)

Summary: After a long hard day of work all Cas wants is a cold beer and a pretty girl.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: SMUT, sexual language about women's bodies

A/N: I love a good cowboy au, and I feel like my boy Cas fits that vibe the best. I'm sorry I've been MIA, but I'm trying to get back into it I promise. Thank you all for your patience. Much love <3

Cassian takes off his hat as he walks into the bar, hair slicked back against his forehead after a long day in the sun.  He appreciates the job Rhys’s father offers him, but he puts him through the wringer every day from sun up to sun down. Friday nights at Rita’s are always packed, and tonight is no exception, especially with the new addition of the mechanical bull. Cassian only has to step up to the bar and a beer is already set in front of him. He takes a sip, letting the drink cool him from the inside out before he turns to survey the dance floor. It’s packed with girls square dancing and some just drunkenly bumping and grinding with the person closest to them. He looks out across the floor watching the buckle bunnies saunter up to every available ranch hand they set their eyes on. Nights like these are some of his favorites, he just lets the girls flock to him so he can take his pick of the litter to get lost in for the night. 

That’s when he sees you, red cowboy boots in all your glory on the back of that mechanical bull.  

The bull is supposed to be impossible to stay on, he knows because he laughed about it with Rita on the first night she had it installed. Rhys, Az, and himself had spent the entire night watching people get thrown into the inflatable pit around it, laughing so hard they almost tipped their barstools.

But you were staying on the bull, and Cas is absolutely entranced. Your hips rock back and forth with the bull's motion, countering every single buck and jerk the machine used to try to throw you. You even had the balls to take one hand off the reigns and Cassian almost fell to his knees right there when you flipped yourself around and started to ride it backward. His eyes wander down to the tight denim of your cut-off shorts, your ass looks good enough for him to bite. 

Every single eye in the bar is fixed on you because no one has ever stayed on the bull this long. 

The machine starts to slow down, the rocking of your hips becoming more sensual as you begin to follow the beat of the country song blasting across the speakers. Everyone watches with rapt attention as the bull finally stops, before erupting into cheers that shake the very foundation of the building. You dismount, bowing with a flourish as you return to your group of friends. Most of the guys in the bar are approaching you, but Cassian is already tucking his hat back on and barreling over. Any other guy who had thought he stood a chance backed off just as quickly when Cassian sent them a glare that could level mountains. 

He didn’t care what anyone said, he had to have you tonight, tonight you were his and his alone. 

“That was incredible.” Cassian rumbles, coming up behind you, a quick wink and smile from him sends your friends fluttering across the dance floor laughing behind their hands. 

“Well thank you,” you drawl, red lips pulling back into a feline grin. “And you are?” one of your eyebrows cocks, eyes lazily trailing up and down his form. 

“Cassian Prince,” he tips his hat and watches as you smirk, “and can I have your name or should I just call you Beautiful?” you laugh incredulously, before rolling your eyes. Cassian’s confidence wavers for a second, that line normally works, but he presses on. “Can I buy you a drink?” You hum in contemplation, making a good show of tipping your head in thought. 

“No thanks, maybe next time Cowboy.” You pat him on the shoulder before sauntering away from him and disappearing back into the crowd. Cassian watches those red boots walk away dumbfounded, but sulks back to his spot against the bar. 

Cassian drinks until closing time, eyes still prowling the crowd but dissatisfied with every potential prospect. Nothing compared to the rush you gave him when you were on that bull. 

Rita’s is emptying, and Cas knocks back another shot of whiskey as Rita cleans the glasses for the night. On the nights he doesn’t go home with someone he usually stays to ensure she gets to her car okay even though he doesn’t think that anyone in this town would be dumb enough to try anything with Rita. 

“Hey Jackass, leave me the hell alone!” It’s shouted across the bar in such alarm that it raises the hairs on the back of Cassian’s neck. He moves faster than his brain can keep up with, tipsy feet carrying him to the bar's back corner. Cas finds that the distressed voice he heard belongs to you, and you’re currently facing up with a guy about twice your height, eyes locked on him with a glare that could make the devil flinch. 

“Come on baby, I saw you on that bull,” 

The stranger is pretty big, but Cas still has a couple of inches on him.

“I think the lady said to leave her alone.” Cassian’s voice rumbles, deep and dark like a thunderstorm. Your eyes blaze with lightning in return. The stranger turns and shoves Cassian on the shoulder, his adrenaline spikes, the song in his blood finally happy for a fight. His fist clenches and before he can blink it slams into the stranger's face. Cassian looks at you again as you freeze in shock, the stranger knocked out cold on the floor between your feet. 

“HEY!” Rita’s voice screams across the bar, “Enough! Cassian get cleaned up, I’ll handle this.” She waves a disgusted at the man collapsed on the ground and you silently grab Cas’s hand to lead him into the bar’s tiny bathroom. 

The two of you share the space across the sink, you run his hand under cold water before gently dabbing at the broken skin of his knuckles with a paper towel. 

“You know,” you start, a teasing lilt to your voice “no one’s ever punched a guy out for me before.” 

“It’s not gentlemanly to disrespect women” Cassian rumbles eyes watching the way your hands curl around the callous skin of his palm. Maybe it’s the leftover adrenaline from the punch he threw, but the only thing he can think of is that your skin is so soft, hands unburdened by the roughness of labor. You lift your head and Cas can feel the ghost of your exhale skate across his lips. He doesn’t know who leans in first, but your lips taste like the limes and salt used for tequila shots. 

He tries his best to chase the hidden burn as your tongue traces over the seam of his lips. 

You’re surprisingly dominant in the way your tongue traces over his with a sensuality Cassian thinks runs in your blood. Cas lets himself be pulled in like a ship out in the ocean, flowing and bellowing with the tide that is your kiss. Those damned hands start undoing the buttons on his flannel, but he doesn’t let you get too far. “We should get out of here,” he heaves, your chests rising and falling to the same beat, he leads you with a hand to the small of your back out of the bar over to his truck. Cassian opens the door to the driver's seat and lifts you onto the seat before his mouth meets yours again. 

Your hands feel like wildfire as they trace down the hard muscles of his back, his trail sends lightning strikes down the curve of your thighs. 

Your fingers find the buttons of his shirt again, and Cassian can feel himself getting harder every time one gets undone. His flannel drifts down to the asphalt that covers the parking lot and your hands against his bare chest might be the closest thing to heaven he’ll ever get. His lips bite dark marks into the curve of your neck, and the moan you release bounces off the curve of the windshield and comes back to rattle his bones. Your hands try to fond Cas’s hair but they run into the wide brim of his hat. The two of you pull apart and the fire in your eyes makes his old jeans get tighter. Your red lipstick is smeared but smile no less wild as you take off his hat and place it onto your head, as triumphant as a queen with a crown. 

“Do you know what that means?” the low timbre of Cassian’s voice sounds more animal than human, his pupils blown wide as his eyes try to swallow you whole. With a laugh, you tip his hat at him and Cas drops to his knees this time. He makes quick work of the belt holding your shorts up, popping the buckle, and sliding the denim down your legs until they hit the concrete below the truck with a metallic thud. He devours you quickly, wasting no time to delve his tongue between your thighs. Your head tosses back with a moan as you begin to grind against his face with the same ferocity that you used to ride the bull earlier. Cassian slips a finger inside of you and lets out a loud groan at the feeling of you clenching around him, he can barely wait to get inside you. You finally release with a broken cry and collapse against his truck's old leather bench seat. You sit up on your elbows, chest heaving up and down with hungry eyes, and Cassian claims your mouth again. Large broad hands drag up your jaw and into your hair, scraping with such delight you almost purr like a cat. Your hands practically rip his belt open, his hips bucking into your hand when you rub hard against his length. Eagerly, you pull Cas into the truck after you and he barely manages to pull the door shut behind you. He kisses his way down your body, worshiping every inch and curve he finds before making his way back up. Lining himself up he pushes himself into you. Your hands claw down his back with a wild ferocity and Cassian loves the bite your fingernails leave. He gives you a few minutes to adjust to him, but when you start squirming underneath him and running your tongue along the shell of his ear, he snaps. He fucks into you with pure abandon, white-hot pleasure shooting between the both of you like a live wire. However, you–like everything else you’ve done tonight, continue to surprise him. You flip Cas over in the seats and ride him until his eyes almost roll back into his head. He never wants to leave this truck, the efforts of your passions fogging up the windows. You tumble over the edge walls squeezing him in a vice grip, and he’s almost embarrassed by it, but with a broken whimper, Cassian manages to lift you off of him and finish all over your stomach. You collapse against his chest, leaving red trailed kisses along the length of his jugular. After recovering, you retrieve your shorts from the ground, pulling them back up your thighs Cas watches with his eyes half-lidded in orgasmic bliss. He tracks the movement of your finger as you wipe away the smeared lipstick from the corners of your mouth. 

“I’ll see you around cowboy.” Your sultry voice echoes out, reigniting the problem in Cassian’s pants when you swing the door to his truck shut and he watches your hips sway as you walk to your own car. 

Cassian has to sit in his truck for another fifteen minutes to recover and its when he runs his hands through his tousled hair that he realizes one thing. 

You’ve walked off with his hat.

[azrielbrainrot]

You Take Me Higher

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: What happens when you run into Azriel at a bar after a long mission?

Warnings: Smut, Public Sex

Word Count: 4220

Rating: 18+

Notes: This is basically pwp except it's part of a new universe I'm working on. Still, you can read this as a standalone since there's no actual plot here. I just felt like writing mindless smut since "She Laughs Like You" is so plot heavy. Hope you enjoy <3

Spy!Reader Masterlist

You normally don't come to Rita's, preferring calmer bars to the loud and suffocating club, it's too much of an assault to your senses. But your friends had invited you enough times for you to accept, not wanting to turn them down again. You hadn't seen them in a while after a particularly long mission outside of the Night Court so it was nice to catch up with them even if it meant dealing with the headache that always follows your trips here.

You'd seen the High Lord and his Inner Circle as soon as you arrived. Their commanding presence allowing your eyes to find them immediately among the rest of the club goers. Upon seeing them, seeing him, you almost regretted coming out, not knowing how to act around him outside of work or your escapades and definitely not wanting to do it in front of so many people.

You decide on a simple wave, nodding discreetly at him and the rest of his family, turning your attention back to your now gushing friends after they wave back politely, making sure you didn't linger on his hazel eyes or the unbuttoned silk shirt, keeping up with the “friendly acquaintances” narrative you've crafted for yourselves. Intending on keeping away from him for the rest of the night.

Azriel seemed to have a different idea as he signaled for you to follow him not even an hour later. And, as soon as you excused yourself from your friends and stepped out into the hallway, he grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers and discreetly guiding you through a back door, to a dark alley behind the popular bar. Your back was against the wall and his lips on yours, hands roaming all over your body, before you could even question him or get a good glimpse at him under the moonlight.

“Azriel,” you whine, trying to get his attention away from your neck, where he has been leaving tiny bites followed by soothing open-mouthed kisses, effectively making you lose your mind. Your hand tightens around his collar at a particularly hard bite, one you're sure left the imprint of his sharp canines on your supple skin.

Just when you were about to call out to him once more, thinking he didn't hear you or was choosing to ignore you, the shadowsinger finally lets out a hum against the column of your throat, at last acknowledging you were trying to talk to him.

You swallow before speaking, trying to get rid of the dryness in your mouth. This backfires as it only makes him use his grip on the back of your neck to pull you even closer to him when he feels the movement, and a moan leaves your mouth before you find your words.

“Someone could see us,” you push through the desire steadily building inside you, trying to be the voice of reason, but you barely get the words out as he keeps nibbling on the soft skin of your throat, making you struggle to hold onto your composure.

When he simply lets out another amused hum before continuing to mark up your neck - to the point you're not sure the glamour magic you can use will be enough for covering them up - you tangle your fingers around the strands of dark hair and pull hard, effectively getting his attention. He grunts softly but allows you to move him away from your neck, and you're finally able to meet his eyes for the first time since he's taken you to the alley.

Your heart stalls in your chest when you take him in. Pupils blown out behind half-lidded eyes, the beautiful hazel almost imperceptible in the midst of all the desire. Dark hair messy, falling into his eyes, and shirt half undone from your tight grip on his collar, the illyrian marks you've grown to love peaking through. He was breathing heavy, chest rising and falling rapidly as he took advantage of the break you've given him to catch his breath.

The sight almost makes you forget your protests, brain going numb at the raw hunger reflected on his face. He's always been mesmerizing, you've been caught by his beauty ever since the first time you met him all those decades ago, but in moments like these you sometimes have trouble believing he's even real. He's like a God walking among mortals.

Azriel smirks when he notices your eyes glazing over and your scent deepening with arousal, taking the opportunity and leaning down for another, slower but equally passionate kiss. He's been so focused on your neck that he barely even tasted you since you've been outside. He wants to take his time with you for a moment.

Your mouth opens for him immediately, melting into him and releasing the grip you had on his dark locks in favor of grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you, needing to feel all of him while he explores your mouth.

Eventually, you break the dizzying kiss again, your senses catching up to you in between the desire fogging up the air. He lets out a sound suspiciously similar to a whine and leans his forehead against yours, barely moving a breath away from your lips. Resigned to hear what you have to say before being able to continue indulging in your enticing taste.

“We'll get caught if we stay here,” you whisper, lips brushing against his soft ones with every word.

You needed to keep your head leveled, wanting to avoid getting caught in such a risky position by any of the drunk party goers or, even worse, your High Lord. You don't even let yourself wonder what anyone would think if they found you tangled up with someone who is technically your superior, outside of a bar of all places. You'd both be in a lot of trouble.

“I won't let anyone see us,” he assures, and as the words leave his mouth, the dark shadows always accompanying him start swirling around the both of you, as if corroborating the statement. “I can keep us well hidden.” He finishes the sentence with a chaste peck on your lips and moves back to look into your eyes, searching for any doubts and waiting to see your response. Always so respectful even in the throes of pleasure.

You bite your lip, holding his gaze as you realize what he's implying. It's not that you would consider yourself a prude by any means but you've never done anything like this in public. Well, aside from the first night that started it at all, but the circumstances had been completely different then. Drunk fae could stumble out through the back door at any moment here, it could even be one of your friends or his. There was no anonymity in one of the most popular bars in Velaris. This might be the most irresponsible thing you'd do.

And, as much as that's true, you can't deny the heat spreading in your belly at the suggestion, the wetness pooling between your legs.

Azriel is looking at you like he could eat you whole, and you're more than aware of his abilities, of the delicious pleasure he can bring you. He wouldn't lie to you either, if he promised he'd keep you hidden then you know he will follow through with it. You'd trust him with anything.

Without the danger of really getting caught, what's stopping you from letting this irresistible male have his way with you right here? You'd be a fool to deny him and yourself the pleasure.

Your lips are back on his before you can talk yourself out of it, wrapping your arms fully around his neck and letting him take charge. He gets the message quickly, grabbing your waist and pressing you against him, letting you feel his bulge on your stomach, so close to where you need him most, making you both moan into the kiss.

Azriel has never been anything short of passionate when fucking you, always giving it his all and completely drowning you in mind boggling pleasure, but today he's acting differently. His rough touch is hungrier, greedier, as if he couldn't get enough of you no matter how much he took. It feels like he's untamed in his desire and it just so happens that he desires to have you.

His hands move all over your body, soon finding their way under your dress so he can grab at your thighs and pull you closer. You let yours wander down his chest, taking advantage of the mostly unbuttoned shirt, raking your nails softly over the tan skin.

When he abandons your mouth and starts leaving kisses down your jaw, moving to the slowly healing love bites, you notice the shadows have thoroughly covered you when you try to look around, suddenly aware of the loud music.

They're acting as a protective barrier to the outside world, the same way they hide him when he's in enemy territory fulfilling his Spymaster duties. Any last bit of remaining doubt evaporated with the realization. He's never been caught after all.

You let your head fall back against the brick wall, letting out a breath that soon turns into a moan when he bites into your throat hard at the same time his hand finds your folds, teasing the sensitive skin through the drenched fabric of your panties. Feeling him grin against your skin at the reaction he pulled from you.

“Always so ready for me,” he praises and then licks a stripe up your throat, tilting your head further back to reach your chin and connect your mouths once again. You accept him greedily, grinding down on his hand, needing him to touch you properly.

After all the attention he's been giving you and the thought of trying something new with the enticing male, your underwear is absolutely soaked through and you need him to take responsibility for it already. You feel like you'd been doused with hot oil.

Thankfully, he seems to take pity on you, pushing your panties to the side, moving up and down to gather some wetness before slowly starting to circle your clit in time with each lick of his tongue into your mouth.

He's swallowing the desperate sounds trying to escape past your lips and your nails start to dig into his shoulders, trying to ground yourself somehow. You'd be embarrassed at how close you already were if this wasn't Azriel. Each stroke of his scarred thumb against your sensitive clit was taking you higher.

He stops his movements as if sensing how close you were. You were about to protest when he also breaks the kiss, needing him to keep touching you, but hold your tongue when he pushes your dress up to your waist, exposing your soaked underwear to the cold night air. He curses softly as your scent reaches him.

“Keep this up for me, pretty.” His voice was deeper, rough with pleasure and restraint.

Your body catches up to the order before your mind has the chance to, doing as you're told and holding onto your dress so he can have an unobstructed view of you. He breathes out a “good” without ever taking his eyes off the wet fabric clinging to your folds, the praise and need in his eyes only adding fuel to the fire burning inside you.

Azriel gets down on his knees between your legs, now eye level with your cunt as he pulls the panties right to the side, his other hand reaching up, encouraging you to part your thighs so he can feast on the mouth watering sight in front of him.

You can't help the cocky smirk when he lets out a low groan at the sight. You had bought the white skimpy lace in hopes he'd be taking it off, you just couldn't have predicted it would be happening in a dark alley behind this bar.

He looks up at you then, holding your gaze as he leans closer to your heat, licking you from hole to clit, making a show of moaning at the taste. Your hands move to grab at his hair instantly, letting your mouth fall open in a silent moan as he repeats the action.

Your legs threaten to give out when he starts kissing and sucking, not wasting a single drop of your wetness. His thumb circles your hole as he moves to tongue at your clit, swirling it around once, twice before his finger is filling you up.

He throws one of your thighs over his shoulder, diving into your cunt. Soon adding another finger and pumping both into you, getting you ready for him. You start grinding your hips against his face, chasing his fingers, his mouth, the mind numbing feeling he's giving you. He hums into you, the vibrations making you tremble and let out an embarrassing mewl of his name.

You don't know how he can have this effect on you, this male could probably make you melt into a puddle with a simple look. He pulls away with a harsh suck so he can watch his fingers move in and out of you, can watch the wetness almost dripping down your legs and his wrist, replacing his tongue with a scarred thumb, the rough texture so different from his wet tongue, adding an extra bite to the pleasure.

You only notice your head was thrown back against the wall, eyes closed as you chase your orgasm, when you hear him call your name. Eyes moving down to meet his dark ones again.

“I need you to cum on my fingers so I can fuck you, alright?” You nod, half delirious already, even though he's barely gotten his hands on you. You'd do anything he told you to.

It doesn't take long before a familiar knot starts tightening in your lower belly, your walls clenching around his fingers. He starts nibbling at the soft skin of your thigh, leaving marks similar to the ones decorating your neck and chest. Mumbling sweet praises against your skin, words you can't even focus on with the blood rushing through your ears.

Your orgasm catches you by surprise, making you almost lose your balance as your eyes roll to the back of your head and your mouth opens in a silent scream, hands trying to find purchase on his shoulders and his hair, forgetting about the dress and holding onto his instead. His hand abandons your clit so he can grab onto your waist, helping you stay up.

He keeps his fingers moving slowly as you come down from your high, breathing heavily and letting out soft gasps. As your mind clears up, he leans over to leave one last kiss against your heat before taking his fingers out carefully and standing up. Grabbing your chin so he can kiss you once more, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

You pull away with a tug on his lip. The orgasm only made you hungrier, you wanted to feel him inside you, stretching you out. “I need your cock, Az.”

“So greedy,” he moans, though you can't figure out if disapprovingly or otherwise. He moves one hand to start unbuttoning his pants so he can free his painful erection at last. You follow the movement, saliva gathering in your mouth involuntarily at the tantalizing sight of his hard, leaking cock. He pumps his fist around it, relieving some of the need. You swallow, moving up to meet his gaze when you feel the intensity of his stare.

He's probably thinking the same thing as you. Remembering how his heavy cock feels against your wet tongue, moving down your throat. You see him grab the base of his cock harder, internally debating if he wants to let you suck him off or fuck you. Your cunt clenches at the thought and apparently the sentiment is clear on your face, the desire written there enough for him to make his decision as he grabs onto the back of your thighs, lifting you up against the wall.

The movement has his cock press right against you, feeling the hardness slide across your sensitive heat. You grab hold of him, not resisting giving him one teasing stroke before guiding him to your hole, needing to have him inside you desperately.

Azriel starts pushing in slowly, stretching you out deliciously. It doesn't matter how many times he fucks you, it will always take you by surprise. You've never had anyone fill you up so well, it almost seemed impossible how he even fit inside you sometimes.

He takes his time filling you up, knowing your body well enough to recognize any twinge of discomfort. In this position, it feels like he can go in deeper, the angle hitting every sensitive spot.

When he finally bottoms out, Azriel presses his whole body against yours, holding you up with his own hips and moving one of his hands over your chest so he can tug the front of the dress down and give your neglected breasts some attention as you adjust to him.

You can feel your walls flutter around his cock, moaning out his name when his mouth finds its way over one of your nipples.

Feeling more than ready for him, you push your hips against him, urging him to finally fuck you. He chokes out a breath, taking a vengeful bite at your nipple, as you move yourself on him, pulling his hips back to thrust back into you, feeling you clench around him. His mouth abandons your chest and meets yours again, hands tightening around your waist as his thrusts' rhythm increases.

It's like all the hunger from before comes back tenfold, his grip most likely bruising your skin as the sounds of wet skin slapping against each other fills the alleyway, your moans rising in tempo with each snap of his hips.

Just as you start losing yourself in the pleasure, one of his hands comes up to cover your mouth. You still let out a muffled whine when he slows down to warn you, whispering in your ear, “The barrier the shadows create isn't completely soundproof. You need to be quiet for me.” You whine in response, making him add, “Alright?”

You almost forgot where you were, and that anyone could walk by you at any moment, but in the heat of desire, the fact only makes you wetter, hips moving of their own accord against him, prompting him to pick up the pace.

“You said we wouldn't get caught.” The last thing you want to focus on right now is to keep quiet when he's making you feel so good.

“We won't,” he moves back to look into your eyes, “Unless you want us to.”

Maybe it's the drinks from before or the way his cock throbs inside you, but you almost wish someone would see you, so they would know you're the one this bewitching male chooses to fuck, you're the one making him cum time and time again, it's your name he moans out in pleasure.

The possessive feeling coils around your heart, a feeling you have no right to have. You have no sort of claim over him after all, but luckily he doesn't let your linger in such thoughts, and starts fucking you hard and fast again, effectively pushing all thoughts out of your mind.

“Gods, you feel fucking perfect,” he growls against your ear, making you let out a long muffled moan. He draws his cock out almost completely before slamming back into you, just so he can hear the gasp that still escapes through his fingers, before picking up the pace again, keeping to shallow thrusts.

His hand moves from your mouth eventually, confident you won't scream too loud, or simply not caring if you do anymore. Both of you get lost in the feeling of each other, tongues battling inside your mouth, your hands roaming all over his shoulders, coming up to tangle in his silky hair. Time almost stands still around the two of you as you hide in his shadows, completely separated from the outside world.

You start getting closer, and knowing you won't be able to hold out for much longer but wanting him to finish with you, you move your trembling hand down his back, finding the raised skin where his wings meet his back and tease them over his shirt.

Illyrians are extremely protective of their wings and you know how sensitive they are, so when he let you touch them around their base for the first time, you were more than flattered even though you can't fully run your fingers over the leathery skin yet, and you're almost sure this isn't the most sensitive spot. You know this is a big step for him, considering all the trust issues you've seen him display, so you don't mind being patient.

Your fingers barely make contact before he's growling and his pace falters, nails digging into your skin. You'd caught him off guard, but he recovers too fast, pushing you even harder into the wall and speeding up, fully intent on making you both fall over the edge now.

“I'm so close,” you breathe out, feeling yourself right at the precipice.

“Me too,” his thrusts turn even more erratic, confirming his words. And with another snap of his hips, you're falling over the edge, moaning out his name with no care for who hears it.

He follows you soon after, thrusting deeper and grinding into you, pumping you full of his cum as the both of you ride out the mind numbing orgasms. You don't remember the last time you came so hard, every nerve on your body is alive with pleasure, if it hadn't been for his hold on you, you don't think you would have been able to stay up.

His lips find your pulse point after a bit, leaving soft kisses around as you massage his scalp, watching with amusement as his wings twitch softly. You would stay in this position for the rest of time if you could, everything just falls into place in these soft moments between you two.

Unfortunately, you get a stark reminder of your surroundings when you hear the back door open, the music filtering through it. You tense immediately, suddenly hyper aware of your compromising position. Azriel leans away from your neck to look into your eyes, his serene expression and the way his wings cocoon around both of you calming you down.

Just as he promised, whoever stumbled out of the bar didn't even suspect you were hidden in the shadows, walking out onto the main street as if they were alone. When you don't hear any footsteps anymore, you let your head fall back against the wall, finally relaxing and breathing a soft, “Fuck.”

He watches you for a moment before speaking up. “We need to get out of here. People are starting to leave,” he tells you, a glimpse of amusement behind his words.

You nod in agreement, knowing he's right but, even after your scare, still hesitant to let go of him, reveling in the warmth of his skin against yours and his soft touch for as long as possible.

The longer you've been sleeping together, the harder it is to accept that outside of the bedroom you're nothing more than acquaintances, you wouldn't even call him your friend. Aside from moments like this or the rare occasion of running into him when you're working, you don't see or talk to him at all.

You always find yourself missing him, not only his body. That's something you need to hide from him, the implications would be enough to have him call off this agreement between you. There is no space for feelings in it, both of you made it very clear from the beginning. You should do yourself a favor and end it before the fluttering of your heart morphs into something more dangerous but you can't bring yourself to even consider it.

He pulls out of you gently, none the wiser to the internal conflict raging inside you. Getting you down from his hold and carefully helping you stand on unsteady legs, muscles still spasming faintly. A rag appears through his shadows and he helps you clean yourself up with it before even worrying about himself, making sure your dress falls back into place as well. You were truly playing a losing game with him. How could you not fall for Azriel?

When you're both decent enough, he calls his shadows off and you put up a glamour around yourself, hopefully masking his male scent clinging to your skin.

“I need to find my friends and let them know I'm leaving.” You try to think of excuses, knowing they'll know you're running off with someone but praying they can't figure out who.

He nods at you, looking over your body with an indecipherable look in his eyes as he takes note of his marks disappearing. “I'll wait for you here.”

“What?”

“My family is used to me sneaking off in the middle of outings,” a smirk grows on his face as he adds, “And I'm not done with you quite yet.”

taglist: @tinymarklee

[azriels-shadowsinger]

Confessions (Azriel x Reader)

summary: you and azriel are best friends, but his flirting with elain has become too much for you to bear, so you decide to try to move on.

wc: 3k

a/n: !!warning: mentions attempted SA!! This is the first real fic i have written in years so it’s probably shit but if you decide to read this thank u and i love u.

Read Part Two

For months now, you have been fairly upset about seeing Azriel pining after Elain, but even more annoyed that your friendship with him has become insignificant to him now that he spends all his time with her. About a decade ago, you decided that being hopelessly in love with Azriel was pointless since he would never see you that way, so you settled for friendship. It’s better to have him as a friend than not at all… or at least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself. Mor is the only one who knows about your crush and has kept your secret, but not without constant pestering to tell him how you feel.

“He’s in love with Elain, Mor. I’m over it and over him. I’m ready to move on.” You lie as best you can to her and to yourself.

“You’re so full of shit. But fine, I’ll play along. When we go out tonight, you’re finding someone to go home with!” She says excitedly while finishing her eyeliner. Mor forced you to put on a tight, navy party dress that barely covers your ass instead of letting you wear your go-to little black dress.

After she finishes getting ready, the two of you head down to your room to grab your lipstick, but when you open the door to the hallway, you see Azriel and Elain at the end of the hall whispering and standing only inches from each other. You ignore the ache in your chest at the sight and turn the opposite direction to head to your room, refusing to look behind you when you feel a pair of eyes staring at you.

———

Rita’s was crowded, as per usual. After about an hour of drinks and dancing, you were decently drunk and had forgotten all about Azriel… well almost.

“Can I buy you a drink?” You hear a male say from beside you. He’s tall and fairly handsome, but nowhere near Azriel’s level of attractiveness- damnit you need to get him out of your head!

“Sure. I’ll have what you’re having.” You try to say seductively, but it just comes out awkward. Gods, when was the last time you tried to flirt? He chuckles and orders your drink. Mor gives you a wink from across the bar and disappears into the crowd with a stranger.

After a while of talking, you decide this guy, Mikael, is exceptionally boring, but the night is almost over and he’s your only option. Anything to forget a certain dark and mysterious shadowsinger. Why not try to have fun?

“Do you want to come back to my place?” Mikael whispers in your ear. No reaction. If Azriel had been this close and whispered something to you, you would be all goosebumps and blushes, but with Mikael… nothing. Fuck, this is probably a bad idea. Maybe you should just go home and try again another night.

“Y/n?” His voice pulls you out of your daze. “I asked if you wanted to get out of here.” He says a bit annoyed while sliding a hand up your thigh. Gods, this guy is kinda an ass. This is definitely a bad idea.

“Um… I’m pretty tired. And I came here with a friend, so I should probably find her to make sure she gets home safe.” You slowly stand from your chair to leave. You immediately stumble and feel much dizzier than before. You were never good at handling your liquor, and apparently tonight was no exception… except you don’t remember drinking enough to feel this drunk. Mikael’s hand grabs your shoulder to stabilize you, but his grip feels too tight and he doesn’t let go once you balance yourself.

“Cmon honey. We were having a fun night, let’s keep it going.” He leans too close for comfort, giving you a slimy grin. You pull away and stumble back.

“I really should find my friend. I’m sorry!” You say nervously and look around for Mor. She’s nowhere in sight. Shit. She probably either left with that girl thinking you were gonna go home with Mikael or she’s lost in the crowd. Either way, you just need to get away from Mikael. You stumble towards the door, feeling dizzy and seeing double. Each step feels slower and heavier than the last, but you finally step outside, savoring the winter chill that will hopefully sober you up. Just as you take a step outside, you feel a hand grab your wrist too hard and pull you towards the alley next to Rita’s.

“I spent a lot of fucking money on your drinks tonight, so I’m not gonna ask again. You’re coming home with me.” Mikael’s whiskey breath is inches from your face, making you want to gag. You want to scream for help. You want to kick and fight back, but your body feels weak and your vision keeps getting blurrier. After a moment, you slump onto Mikael and he helps you walk down the sidewalk. To everyone else, you probably look like a drunk girl whose boyfriend is helping her home.

No. No no no. You need to get away. You need someone to notice you aren’t okay. How the fuck did this happen?

You hear a voice behind you and your feet stop moving. It’s too blurry and dark to see, but soon you’re on the ground and someone is yelling. You shut your eyes, accepting whatever horrible thing is about to happen to you. But suddenly you are in someone’s arms, and a moment later you’re inside somewhere. You open your eyes, and despite the blurriness, you recognize your blue curtains. You’re home. Somehow.

Mor must have found you and winnowed you home. Thank the gods for that. You are set on your bed and covered you with blankets.

“Thanks… thanks for finding me, Mor.” You slur and curl into your blankets. “I think that guy… put something in my drink.” Your voice trails off as you become incredibly sleepy and shut your eyes. Mor sits you up and forces you to drink some water. Your eyes feel too heavy to open, so you keep them shut.

“Just… don’t tell Azriel about this. It’s embarrassing enough to go looking for a quick fuck to get over my crush, but it’s even more embarrassing to get fucking drugged by someone in the process.” You get the words out slowly between sips. Thinking about everything that just happened tonight should make you want to cry and vomit, but you’re too tired to do so. When you finish the water, you lay back down and immediately fall asleep.

———

Your head is pounding and the sun is shining too bright. Someone is yelling outside your door. You roll over in bed, half expecting to see some male, but thankfully you are alone in your room. You don’t remember much from last night, but apparently your attempt at a one night stand was unsuccessful. Probably for the best.

The yelling gets louder.

“She was on the fucking sidewalk outside Rita’s!” You hear a male voice yell. Azriel’s voice. Why is Azriel here? And why is he so damn loud?

You slowly make your way out of bed and to the door so you can tell him to shut up, but as soon as you open the door, you see several worried faces staring back at you. Mor, Rhys, Cass, Feyre, and Azriel all stare at you. Mor looks like she’s crying and Azriel is red in the face with a murderous expression.

“Can you all shut up? I have a head-“ you start

“Y/n I’m so sorry!” Mor hugs you tight, almost knocking you over.

“What the…” you start to question before you’re cut off again.

“Do you know his name, y/n? I’ll make sure he is taken care of.” Rhys asks. His voice is gentle, but his face is full of anger.

“Like hell you will. I would’ve killed him last night if I didn’t have to get her back here. I should’ve fucking killed that piece of garbage.” Azriel mutters.

What the hell is going on? You pull away from Mor and face the group.

“Does anyone care to tell me what we’re talking about?” You ask cautiously while rubbing your temples in an attempt to alleviate your headache.

“Of course she doesn’t remember you guys. Give her some space.” Feyre says softly and leads you back inside your room with Mor. The three males protest, but Feyre gives them a stern look and shuts the door. “Sit down, y/n. I’ll tell you what’s happening.”

You sit on your bed and look between Feyre and Mor anxiously.

“You were found outside of Rita’s being carried by a stranger and you were close to unconscious. You’ve been asleep for almost the entire day now.”

You stare back in stunned silence. The memories slowly start to return, but before you can ask a question Mor starts tearing up again.

“You don’t know how sorry I am y/n. You were hitting it off with that guy and next thing I knew, you were gone. I thought you went home with him like you planned, but when Azriel told me-“

“Azriel? Wait… what?” You ask.

“Azriel found you and brought you back here. He made sure you were safe before finding me and going ballistic on me for not watching out for you. I’m so sorry I really didn’t mean to let you get hurt!” She cries again.

“I don’t understand. I vaguely remember someone bringing me home, but I could’ve sworn it was you, Mor, not Azriel.” They both shake their heads. You sit silently and process the information for a minute before saying the only thing that may be helpful in this moment.

“His name was Mikael. He had dark hair, hazel eyes, and wore a red shirt.” You whisper, still in shock. Feyre’s eyes glaze over for a moment as she relays this information to Rhys. Suddenly its completely quiet outside your door.

———

You spend the rest of the day in your room, still exhausted and fighting a hangover. Or the after effects from the drug… not sure. There’s a soft knock at your door.

“Come in.” You call out. Azriel slowly opens the door and walks in. You can tell he just got back and tried to clean up quickly, but there’s still a few smears of blood on him.

“Uh… hi.” You say awkwardly and motion for him to sit. Azriel sits on the end corner of your bed and looks at you with a mixture of anger and fear in his eyes. His shadows are swirling around you, as if to check that you are actually okay. They’ve always taken an interest in you, which you normally appreciate, but right now it just makes you feel guiltier for last night.

“Thank you for finding me last night. I probably wouldn’t be okay right now if you hadn’t.” You whisper, avoiding his gaze. He takes a deep breath, like he is trying to control himself.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He mutters angrily. Azriel stands and starts pacing the room. “You could’ve been fucking killed!” He raises his voice.

“I know. I didn’t-“

“And then you go and say… fuck y/n!” He runs his hands over his face in frustration.

“I’m sorry, Az.” You whisper, fighting the tears that are building. Wait, why the hell is he mad at you? You didn’t drug yourself. “Azriel, it’s not like I planned for this to happen.” You say a bit annoyed. He lets out a cold laugh.

“Yeah, but you planned on going out to find someone to fuck. Wearing that fucking dress and letting that fucking worthless filth touch you.” He spits out angrily as his shadows swirl around your ankles.

“Okay look, I can do what I want and wear what I want. Why is it any of your business if I try to hook up with someone?” Your eyes burn and you fight the tears. “Obviously I wasn’t expecting someone to put something in my drink. I’ll be more careful next time!” You yell louder.

“Next time?” His voice drops to a whisper and he looks at you with an expression you can’t quite decipher.

“I don’t have to justify my actions to you, Azriel. Why do you even care? You’re never around anymore. Always too busy sneaking off with Elain to hang out with your best friend!” Hurt fills your voice. You hadn’t meant to let that last part slip out.

“Why are you bringing her into this?” His voice drops lower and his brow furrows.

“She has a mate, Azriel! What the hell are you doing?” You sigh and put your head in your hands. “I just miss you.”

He stops pacing and stares at you. “I’m right here. I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“Yes you have! I never see you anymore!” Its true. He never makes plans with you anymore and it has been tearing you apart. It’s strange that he was even at Rita’s in the first place, because he never wanted to go even before he ditched you for Elain. Wait, why was he there? “You were at Rita’s last night when you found me.” It’s not a question.

He nods.

“Why were you there?” He obviously wasn’t expecting you to ask that because panic flashes in his eyes for a brief moment. “I know you weren’t there with Elain because she hates it there. And I didn’t see you inside with the guys.” I try to remember him outside the bar, but it’s all fuzzy.

“I was worried.” He mutters so quiet you barely hear.

“What?”

“I was worried about you y/n!” You look at him surprised. “I saw you in the hall ready to go out in that dress. God, that fucking dress. And the entire night I kept thinking about something bad happening. So I waited outside to make sure you and Mor were safe. And then I saw that fucking piece of shit with his hands on you and I just…” he trails off and takes a deep breath. “If something had happened to you… if I hadn’t been there to stop it…” His expression looks angry again.

You pause and process his words. He almost sounds jealous. But that can’t be it. Because he has no reason to be jealous.

He sighs again and continues with a softer voice. “Do you remember anything after you left?” He asks with a hint of desperation in his voice. You think hard for a moment. You thought Mor got you home and you told her what happened. But it wasn’t Mor. It was Azriel. And then you said not to tell Azriel because… fuck. Your eyes go wide.

Azriel stalks closer and is inches from you. “Do you remember what you said? Was that the drug talking or you?” He whispers low and gets closer, his eyes searching yours for an answer. This cannot be happening. If you thought your friendship was screwed before, this is definitely the final straw.

“Az…” you whisper.

“Tell me.” His voice is demanding.

“I don’t-“ you start, but Azriel turns and runs his hands over his face in frustration. He stays facing away from you, muttering something to himself.

“Azriel, I cant. You already avoid me as it is. I don’t think I can handle losing you as a friend. Losing you completely.” He obviously already knows, but saying it feels too real. Your words cause him to turn back around and get closer to you. Azriel leans over you, caging you against the bed in between his arms and stares at you silently for a moment. His shadows have stilled completely around you two. There’s something desperate in his eyes. He’s so close, closer than he has been in months. Hell, he’s closer than he’s been ever. You look from his eyes to his lips for a split second, mesmerized by the way he barely bites his bottom lip.

“Fuck it.” He mutters. Before you can ask what, he crashes his lips into yours. You freeze for a moment in shock, before melting into his touch. He lets out a low groan as you wrap your arms around him and pull him closer. His calloused hands wrap into your hair and tug slightly, earning a small whimper from you. It takes several moments before you come up for air.

“Azriel… I don’t understand.” You ask breathlessly.

“Please tell me what you said last night is true. That you feel the way I feel.” He rests his forehead on yours.

“What about Elain?”

“I don’t care about Elain! I care about you! She knows that I’m in l-“ He pauses and takes a breath. “I was trying to get over you.” He grabs your chin softly and pulls your face to meet his. “It’s always been you, y/n. Please.”

You stare silently in shock for several moments. “Y/n…” Azriel’s voice pulls you from your trance and you realize he’s waiting for you to answer.

Just as you are about to respond, there is a knock on the door. Azriel quickly pulls away and sits on the edge of the bed away from you, as if nothing were happening.

“Come in!” You call out softly, and Feyre opens the door holding a plate of food.

“I should go.” Azriel says quietly and heads towards the door.

“Wait.” You try to stop him, but he keeps walking.

“I’m just glad you’re okay, y/n.” Azriel opens the door and leaves without a second glance. His shadows remain for a moment, before quickly retreating, as if being called to follow. Feyre gives you a questioning look, but you just shake your head and fall back onto the bed, finally letting the tears flow freely.

thank you for reading!! :)

Read Part Two

[riddlesb1tch]

Menace

Azriel x reader

summary: you return home from a long night of partying and all you want to do is sleep, but your makeup must come off before you do. Azriel has no intentions of letting the process be quick.

warnings: none!

“Finally!” you sigh, tossing your purse on the chair in your room and kicking off your heels. Azriel chuckles from behind you, closing the door to your bedroom. He presses a kiss to the back of your head and you smile. 

Earlier tonight, you and IC had been at Rita’s (Mor’s idea, of course) and it had been the most fun you have had. But now, after a whole night of dancing and socialising, you are exhausted, aching everywhere, and in no mood to do anything except lie in bed that's looking a little like the fluffliest cloud right now, and fall asleep. But alas, your makeup must be taken because when tomorrow comes and there’s a giant pimple on your face since you didn’t wash your face before bed, you are going to break something. 

Sighing, you head to your closet to pull out one of Azriel’s shirts and head into the bathroom. 

After changing, you toss your clothes into the laundry basket in your room, then return to the bathroom to wash off your makeup. However, the hair tie that normally lives on your wrist seems to be missing. Must have fallen off while dancing. At the moment, though, you are in no mood to go all the way back to the room, open the dressing table drawer and dig out a hair tie, so you give in to your only other option. 

“Azzy, could you help me?” you call out to your mate. 

“Yes, my love?” he leans against the doorframe with one hand on the wall. He looks at you with a small smile, no doubt already having an idea as to why he had been summoned. 

“I can’t find my hair tie,” you say. 

Without any further explanation, Azriel walks behind you and gathers all your hair into a ponytail behind your head. You smile at him in the mirror. 

“Thanks.” 

You lean down to wash your face when you feel Azriel move closer. A small smile appears on your face since you know what he is about to do. You feel one of his hands slips around your waist, now resting on your stomach, and he pulls you into him the slightest bit. A shiver runs up your spine at the warmth seeping from his hand into your skin, and your back colliding with his hard chest. 

You splash your face with water once when you first feel his warm lips on the side of your neck, right at the spot where your neck meets the shoulder. A giggle escapes you at the ticklish sensation and you feel his lips curve into a smile against your neck. Splashing your face with water again, you purposely let some water go past your face and hit Azriel. 

He gasps dramatically. “You’re over,” he declares, tickling your sides fervently. You laugh, shrieking loudly, trying to wiggle free from his grip. 

“Azzie stop!” you shriek. He slows his tickling until you’re no longer shrieking and laughing but keeps his grip on your waist. You go back to rinsing off your remaining makeup, and Azriel’s lips find their way back to your neck. A shiver runs up your spine and you giggle, glancing at his face in the mirror to see a bright smile there.

As soon as you are done, Azriel spins you around, and your hands immediately find his chest. You glare up at him, though you can’t help the smile on your face. 

“You, sir, are a menace,” you poke his chest playfully. 

“Mhmm.” He moves to bury his face in your neck. “Your menace to deal with.”

Masterlist

[littlest-w01f]

Rita's

Feysand x Reader

FEYRE MASTERLIST

RHYSAND MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Feyre is drunk, and the barmaid who opened her and her husband's tab that night looks sexier with every shot. Rhysand is more than willing to aid her drunken fantasy

CW: Fingering, Oral f!receiving, MxFxF, Smut 18+ MDNI

You're working at Rita's, serving drinks to a variety of patrons. One moment, you're pouring vodka for a couple, and the next, you're sliding over a glass of bourbon to a rugged-looking male at the end of the counter. The room hums with conversation, laughter, and the occasional clink of glasses. Your hands move quickly, mixing drinks and wiping down tables as needed.

You laugh slightly, seeing your friend dancing on a makeshift stage nearby as drunk males and females whistled and hooted for the show she put on. While she was in barely any clothes you were dressed in a simple blouse and floor-length skirt, covering most of your skin except for your midriff and the exposing slit that showed a little of your right leg.

"Darling, right here," A voice calls to you while you're done cleaning up where a drunk patron had spilt his drink, you look up to see your High Lord and Lady occupying the seats diagonal to you.

You put on a smile and approach them. "Evenin', my Lady, my lord." You dip your chin in respect as Feyre waves her hand.

"Oh, no need for that." Feyre smiles, turning to Rhysand before turning back to you, giving you their orders.

With a nod, you start pulling out shot glasses and pouring a variety of colourful liquors into them. your fingers brush against each other as you pass the tray to the High Lord and Lady.

"Here you go, my lady," you say, your voice loud over the music blasting. As you step away, you can't help but steal glances at the pair. Feyre, with her mesmerizing beauty and Rhysand, whose aura of power is almost palpable.

As you continue to serve the rest of the night away, your eyes keep finding their way back to the High Lord and Lady, bringing them more shots and drinks. They seem engrossed in conversation, Feyre's laughter ringing out occasionally above the din of the crowd. Every so often, Rhysand would lean closer to her, his intense gaze never leaving her face. At one point, you notice Feyre looking at you, a small smirk playing on her lips, her eyes almost dark, which you blamed on the dim lighting.

Feyre looks up at you, as she had for most of the night, now leaning against Rhysand in her drunken state, her eyes meeting yours across the crowded bar. There's a spark there, a silent invitation that leaves your heart pounding in your chest. She gives you a small nod, barely perceptible under the loud music and general commotion around you.

Feeling emboldened by this unspoken signal, you begin making your rounds less frequently, staying closer to their table. Every so often, you'd catch Rhysand watching you with an unreadable expression, something that makes you burn at the pit of your stomach. When Feyre and Rhysand get up to walk out, you move to set some things back in their places, your shift ending for the night.

Rhysand stops by your side momentarily before disappearing towards the back hallway. A warm tingle runs through you at his brief touch, his whispered words barely audible over the noise "Meet us outside..."

As you leave the bar, your mind races with thoughts and possibilities. You glance around, looking for the High Lord and Lady, but they're nowhere in sight. Then, you hear Feyre's soft voice behind you, sending a jolt of surprise through your body.

"I hope you came willingly... Wouldn't want to force you into anything." Her voice is playful yet serious, holding a note of command that sends another thrill coursing through you.

"Yes. I... I came willingly." You nod and before you know it, Feyre has led you deeper into the alleyway, away from prying eyes and nosy patrons.

The cool air hits your face as Rhysand leans against the brick wall, crossing his arms. "She's been watching you all night," He murmurs, stepping closer until he's mere inches away from you.

"I want you..." Feyre slurred, the alcohol in her breath, she moved closer to you, "Can I drink you?"

The corners of Rhysand's mouth twitch upwards into a knowing grin as he watches your reaction. "You may go back inside if you do not wish to," he says, "She's been eyes you the entire evening, craving you, if you're uncomfortable with it, I am more than capable of satisfying my mate." his voice is low and filled with amusement.

You swallowed, feeling trapped between the two powerful figures. But instead of fear, all you felt was a strange excitement course through your veins. "Yes, my lady," you agree, heart racing in your chest.

Feyre giggled, reaching up to cradle your face in her delicate hands. Her lips were soft and demanding as they crashed against yours, your chests pushed together causing you to groan, seeing the chance, her tongue snaking out to explore your mouth eagerly.

Meanwhile, Rhysand's large hands roamed over your curves from behind, tracing patterns up and down your arms before cupping your ass. You moaned into Feyre's kiss, arching into Rhysand's touch.

Feyre doesn't waste any time getting you out of your attire. Her nimble fingers fumble with the buttons of your blouse, pulling the fabric apart to reveal your perky breasts encased in a black lace. Meanwhile, Rhysand's skilled hands make quick work of pulling your skirt to your waist, leaving you standing with your blouse just handing off your shoulders and your skirt at your waist as Rhysand removes your lingerie with a wave of his hand.

"You're even more beautiful than I fantasised," Feyre purrs, running her hands down your sides and around to squeeze your hips, bringing them up to feel every inch of your body.

Rhysand whispered down your neck, "You're the first female she's ever wanted, doesn't that make you feel special darling?"

You gasp as you feel Rhysand's hot breath along your neck, your cheeks heating up despite the cold. "Y-yes," you stammer, your knees nearly buckling under the weight of their gazes but Rhysand holds you still by your thighs, spreading them for Feyre as she drops on her knees, licking her lips.

Feeling Feyre's hot breath ghost over your cunt, you bite your lip hard, whines still escaping, your body trembling as she parts your folds with her fingers, revealing your glistening cunt. With a low hum of approval, Feyre dips her head, her tongue darting out to taste you, experimental at first before she dives in, crazed at your sweet taste.

"Feyre please-" Your cries echo throughout the alleyway, filling the empty space with the sounds of your pleasure. Your juices run down Feyre's chin as she feasts on your cunt, her fingers digging into your thighs as you squirm beneath her.

"Feels winderful, doesn't it, darling?" Rhysand asks his mate as he continues to praise you, while he watches Feyre eat you out. His cock strains against his pants, tenting the fabric as he grinds himself against your ass. "That's a good girl"

"F-Fuck..." You whimper, your body writhing in ecstasy, not sure whether to thrust into Feyre's tongue or Rhysand's cock.

Your body trembles as Feyre's fingers delve into your soaking cunt at once, curling and twisting inside of you as she finds your sweet spot. Each flick of her wrist sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, making you cry out and grip Rhysand's arms for support.

"Oh fuck! Yes!" You scream, your walls clenching around Feyre's fingers as you edge closer to your orgasm. The sensation of having both Feyre's mouth and fingers on you at once pushes you over the edge, and with a final cry, you come hard, your juices dripping down Feyre's hand.

As Feyre stands, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Rhysand steadies you, keeping you upright as your legs wobble beneath you.

"Good girl," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling away to adjust his pants, his hard cock painfully evident.

Feyre smirks, "I hope you enjoyed that," she purrs, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

"I did..." You blush softly, watching Rhysand take a gentle hold of Feyre's hand, bringing her fingers wet with your release to his lips to clean them off.

He groaned as he cleaned Feyre's hand, turning to you while you were buttoning your blouse, "Now even I want a go at you." you paused, looking at him and Feyre.

Feyre's eyes were bright with glee at his suggestion, "Oh, you should come home with us," she held your hands, pulling you close to her, "We can have more fun."

You let out a shaky breath, "Yeah... I'd like that." Your response makes them both smile wide, holding to you, they winnow back to the river house.

{General Taglist - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave}

{Rhysand Taglist- @yeonalie}

[starryevermore]

i will go to secret gardens in my mind ✧ tamlin

angst city™ library | send in a request (consult request faqs first)

pairing: tamlin x archeron!fem!reader

summary: you have always been a wallflower, but to tamlin, you are the finest rose in the garden. 

word count: 7,676

warnings?: angst with a happy ending, unrequited feelings, pining, multi pov, plot twist perchance??, not proofread 

PART TWO

The Spring Court had been rebuilt. What would have been a joyous occasion under any other circumstances, for perhaps any other court, left your family scowling as they looked over the invitation that landed on Rhysand’s desk this morning. An invitation to all courts—to come to Spring and celebrate the burgeoning court. No one, it seemed, wanted to go. It was understandable, of course. After everything that Spring’s High Lord, Tamlin, had put Feyre through—had put your entire family through—it almost felt like walking into a trap. But call you naïve, or perhaps a tad too optimistic for your own good, but you wanted to believe that Tamlin might have truly turned over a new leaf. Sometimes, it took someone losing everything to learn the value of all that they hold dear. No one wanted to go, it seemed, except for you.

Well, and Lucien, but he often fought in Tamlin’s corner. “Tamlin is a far cry from what you remember him as,” he said. “What he did to Feyre was horrible, but he’s trying to make amends. Isn’t the point of the Night Court to offer second chances?”

“We don’t owe that worm a second chance,” Nesta snarled, her eyes narrowing at Lucien. 

“It might be good for Feyre to close this chapter of her life,” Lucien continued. 

Rhysand rolled his eyes. “Because you care so much about Feyre’s wellbeing. Remind me, what were you doing while she wasted away in that manor?”

“All I’m saying is, you should consider hearing him out. We all were troubled after Under the Mountain. His actions were, are, shameful, but that doesn’t mean he cannot regret what he did.”

You noticed the tension in Feyre’s shoulders and reached out, placing your hand on top of hers. “You don’t have to go. I just thought it might be fun. We haven’t just gone out in so long.”

Rhysand’s narrowed gaze turned on you. “Then we can go to Rita’s, or take a walk down the Sidra. Hell, I’m sure if we asked Tarquin, we could have a nice trip down to Summer if you’re wanting to go somewhere warm. We don’t have to go all the way to the damned Spring Court for fun.”

A sigh escaped your lips. You rose from your seat, turned to leave. “Forget I said anything.”

Feyre looked up at you. She said your name, standing to follow after you. “If you want to go—”

You waved her off. “It’s alright. I didn’t want to go that bad. I only thought it would be fun, but Rhys is right. We can do something else instead.”

She said your name again, but you ignored her. You understood why she of all people would be apprehensive of going to Spring. Trust and believe, you understood. Tamlin was hardly the most wonderful person in Prythian in your eyes. He let Feyre waste away, he sold you, Nesta, and Elain out to Hybern in a vain attempt to get Feyre back…At every turn, it seemed like he was dead set on humiliating her. But when it was all said and done, he still gave up a kernel of his power to bring back Rhysand. “Be happy, Feyre,” he’d said. It was nothing groundbreaking, it was not even close to an apology for all he’d done, but it seemed like a step in the right direction. 

As you retreated to your room, you didn’t have to look to know you were being followed. Ever since Elain had accepted the mating bond with Lucien, Azriel always trailed so close behind you, he was like a second shadow. When you reached your room, you left the door open, allowing him to slip inside. The door clicked shut behind him. 

You took a seat in the bay window, looking out over the city of Velaris. “Whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it.”

The cushion sank underneath Azriel’s weight. You moved over, avoiding your knees knocking into his. “I just want to know what’s going on in your mind.”

“Does it matter? Rhysand has made his decision clear.”

“Of course it matters. It matters to me.”

It should’ve tugged at your heartstrings to hear him say those words. But all you were reminded of was how Azriel pined after Elain for so long, and for Mor for centuries before that. You were all too aware that you were just the latest object of his affection. “I don’t know. I just…It feels like something is calling for me to go there. Something trying to tug me along until I finally cross over Spring’s border.”

When you spared Azriel a glance, you noted the way his jaw clenched and unclenched. “You should tell Rhys that. He might be more amenable.”

“Rhysand is hardly amenable to anything that isn’t already in his favor.” You shrugged. “It’s not as if I’m Elain, with some vision about why we need to go to Spring. I just…I don’t know. I have a feeling it’s somewhere I should be.”

Azriel looked you over. Perhaps he was trying to ascertain if you’ve lost your mind. And maybe you had. You could hardly explain the feeling, deep in your chest, that pulled you towards the Spring Court. The feeling only intensified when you learned of the invitation to come to Spring’s celebration. “I’ll talk to Rhys for you. He’s been wanting to forge alliances with the other courts. If he’s able to extend a hand to Spring, other courts might be willing to work with him.”

You shrugged again. “Do as you please.”

He reached for your hand. You allowed him to take it. At least you found a modicum of comfort in the gentle squeeze. Azriel’s mouth opened—to say what, you weren’t sure, for a knock sounded against your door. It opened shortly after, Feyre slipping inside. Her eyes fell to your joined hands. The corner of her mouth quirked upwards. You pulled away. One of his shadows trailed after you.

“We’re going to Spring,” she said, smiling. But it didn’t reach her eyes. 

You stood up, crossing the room in a few strides, then took Feyre’s hands. “We don’t have to if it’ll cause you pain. I don’t mean to dredge up those terrible memories.”

“I am High Lady. I can set aside those feelings for one night, if it might end in an alliance that will benefit my people. Besides, Lucien might be right. It might do me some good to speak with Tamlin under better circumstances.”

“Are you sure?”

She offered you a smile. “I’m sure.” She squeezed your hands. “You haven’t asked for much since you’ve come here. The least I can do is give you this.”

You shook your head. “No, Feyre, you’ve already gave up so much for our family—”

“Hush. If I didn’t want to do it, you know I wouldn’t.”

“Fine. But the second you’re uncomfortable, we all leave, okay?”

Feyre nodded. “Okay.”

Rhysand was certainly giving you the cold shoulder since Feyre insisted that you all go to the Spring Court, but you could hardly find it in yourself to care. Not when you finally got to trade in the darkness of Night for the blossoming life of Spring. You couldn’t wait to finally leave Night’s borders. You couldn’t quite remember the last time you had the opportunity to leave, save for the war with Hybern. Other than that, though, you had bounced between Rhysand’s many homes, going to whichever place made you least likely to pick a fight with the High Lord. These days, that was primarily the House of Wind, since he had given it to Cassian and Nesta. That, of course, left you with even fewer chances to go out. If you didn’t have an Illyrian to fly you down, you would have to brave the 10,000 stairs. And you were no Valkyrie—you were sure you wouldn’t even make it down a few dozen before throwing in the towel. Of course, you were certain that Azriel would be more than pleased to be at your beck and call. 

After all, he sat on your bed now, watching as you rifled through your dresses, trying to pick something out to wear. 

“You look beautiful in anything,” he said. “Why are you putting so much effort into this?” A hidden question was on the tip of his tongue—Were you trying to impress someone? Perhaps him?

“My mother always said, when you go outside, you look your best because you never know what will happen.”

Azriel stood up, crossing over to your wardrobe. A scarred hand wrapped around yours, stopping you from flicking through the dresses. His voice was husky as he asked, “And what do you think will happen?” 

Your face grew warm. Even if you knew that he was only pursuing you because you were an Archeron, for a male to be so close to you…Well, it was easy to get you flustered. Stuck between Nesta’s vivaciousness and Elain’s sweetness, it was easy for you to fade into the background. When your family was better off, everyone flocked to Elain. After your family became rich again, Elain garnered so many men’s attention. Even Feyre, when your family was its lowest, found herself with someone, if just for the pursuit of pleasure. But you…You were a wallflower through and through. 

“Anything. Nothing,” you said. 

Your breath stilled as Azriel pulled a dress from your wardrobe. It was a beautiful blue tulle dress. Silver stars littered its entire body. There was a tasteful slit up one side. Somewhere in your chest of drawers, you knew there was a matching pair of long, sheer gloves. You had gotten it for Starfall, but found yourself tucking it away in favor of a simpler gown. It, however, wasn’t lost on you that its color complemented Azriel’s cobalt siphons well. 

“You should wear this,” he said. “In case something does happen.”

You found yourself nodding. 

A soft smile crossed his face. It took everything in you to not look away, lest you give him the wrong idea. You may have been a wallflower, but you were not a demure female. “I’ll let you get ready then.”

You nodded again. 

Azriel placed the dress in your hands. You expected him to leave, but he lingered still. His hand grasped yours, pulling it up to meet his lips. He made eye contact with you the entire time, hazel eyes twinkling, before he pulled away. 

When he was finally gone, a sigh escaped your lips. A part of you, you recognized, should have been delighted at Azriel’s attention. He was an attractive male. He had so many qualities that you admired—protective, loyal, kind. But anytime you looked at him, you were reminded of his past history with females. How he pined after Mor for centuries. How he fixated on Elain. In both cases, each made it clear in their own ways that it would never go further. And here you were, certain that you were sending clear signals that you were uninterested, and yet…There he remained. Where was Rhysand, telling him to leave you be? Could you only be left alone if you had a mate?

Perhaps it would be easier, you mused as you changed into the dress, if this tug in your chest was for Azriel. That, by going to Spring, something would happen that would make the bond snap for him. At least if he was your mate, you could convince him to get a home of your own, far away from the busybodies occupying the Inner Circle. At least you would finally feel free enough to breathe on your own. 

You spared a glance in the mirror, satisfied with your hair and makeup, before leaving your room. It shouldn’t have surprised you to see Azriel waiting on the other side of the door, shadows swirling around him. His face brightened as he saw you. An arm was extended toward you. You took it. 

“Beautiful, just as I expected.” Azriel smiled at you. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

All eyes were on the Inner Circle as you entered the manor, but you were too busy looking at everything else. Spring was…Mother, it was more beautiful than anything you had ever seen before. Not even Elain’s gardens held a candle to the beauty housed here. It was difficult to imagine how a Court so ethereal could have been in ruins just months before. It was easier, though, to see how Feyre could fall in love with this land. 

It was even easier, you mused, to fall in love with Spring’s High Lord as he stepped into the Inner Circle’s path. It was the first time you really got a good look at him. When you were taken, you hadn’t dared look at your captors. And when you came out of the Cauldron, you cried so hard you couldn’t see. But the male before you now…Wow. 

“Welcome,” he said, extending a hand to Rhysand. As Rhysand shook it, he turned to Feyre. “Thank you all for coming. I cannot imagine it was an easy decision to make.”

Feyre tilted her head in your direction. “Thank Lucien and my sister. It was their convincing arguments that brought us here.”

Tamlin’s emerald eyes fell to you. Something in your chest tugged harder, but you couldn’t dwell on it as Azriel took a subtle step in front of you. A charming smile passed across the High Lord’s lips. “Well, thank you, too,” he said. “And if I may, I must offer the utmost apologies for everything that transpired the last time our paths crossed. There is no excuse for my actions.”

You tried not to flinch at the mention of the Cauldron. The memory of being submerged as a human, reemerging as a fae…How everything was so different, too intense. It was, perhaps, the darkest part of your life thus far. You prayed it was never so dark again. “It wasn’t all bad,” you found yourself saying. “At least now I can live a long life with my sisters.”

“That is a generous way to think about it,” Tamlin said. He took a step toward you, a hand outstretched. His eyes flicked to Azriel as a growl escaped the Spymaster. Still, he reached for your hand. When you slipped it into his, he lifted it toward his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. Something, something akin to joy, swirled inside of you. A tendril of a shadow pulled your hand from Tamlin’s. “Would you be so kind as to share a dance with me?”

“I—” The Inner Circle tensed around you, though you caught Lucien rolling his eyes at their antics. A dance didn’t seem so horrible, but you hated the way Feyre looked so uncomfortable at the prospect. You wished you were a daemati and could see what she was thinking. “Perhaps later. I should like to spend some time mingling.”

Tamlin seemed disappointed, but he still smiled as he said, “Of course. Have fun.”

He nodded at Feyre and Rhysand before disappearing into the crowd. 

“It was like he disappeared the moment he laid eyes on Y/N,” Mor remarked, plucking a glass from a passing waiter’s tray. 

“Don’t,” Feyre warned. She looked at you, her eyes wide with worry. “Don’t fall for his charms. Dance with him if you so wish. But…I don’t know how much I believed him to have changed.” 

“I won’t. I haven’t forgotten what he’s done to you. It will take more than charming smiles and offers for dances to win me over,” you said, turning away from her. Your heart clenched at her distrust. Well, perhaps it wasn’t distrust. To be here, to be in Spring again, must have been extraordinarily difficult for her. But you were her sister. You knew her struggles, her pain, better than most. You weren’t going to throw all that away because Tamlin was kind to you. You weren’t that sort of female. 

A scarred hand caught your wrist before you could slip away into the crowd, perhaps find a nice corner to hide in and people watch. “Would you? Like to dance?” Azriel asked. 

“I see Kallias and Viviane. I would like to say hello.”

You could feel the Inner Circle’s eyes on you as you disappeared into the throng of fae. Though you were no daemati, you could practically hear their collective thoughts: You would be better off with Azriel. But what did they know about you?

Coming here was a mistake. You’d decided so hours ago as you could see various members of the Inner Circle keeping tabs on you from the corner of your eye. Despite hardly making a move from the corner you resided in, save for trips to the refreshment table or conversations with the few friends you had made from other courts, they still hovered. You wondered if it was under Rhysand’s orders, or perhaps Feyre’s. To make sure you didn’t slip away to dance with Tamlin, become the next pretty thing trapped in his gilded cage. 

You sucked your tongue against your teeth as you watched Azriel approach you from across the room, Nesta and Cassian slipping off onto the dance floor. The changing of the guards. Your eyes rolled. Of everyone, Azriel’s presence was the worst. While the others would linger, he would stay by your side, trying to coax conversations out of you or pull you over for a dance. It might have been sweet if you weren’t all too aware that it was a vain effort to keep you from Tamlin. And unlike the others, who would have been merely following orders from the High Lady and Lord, Azriel had his own ulterior motives. 

When you lost sight of Azriel, dancing couples blocking each other’s view of the other, you took the opportunity to slide out a nearby door and into the hall. They would be furious to learn you left—especially when it was because of you that they were even here. But you couldn’t handle the hovering any longer. 

The music from the ballroom soon faded into the background as you walked down the hall, searching for some sanctuary. There were groups of fae lingering around the hallway, but none paid you any mind. It was refreshing, if you were being honest. They had no idea who you were, who your sisters were, of what they had done to save Prythian (or doom this court). You smiled at one couple, wrapped up in each other’s arms, blissfully unaware of all that happened around them. 

You spied an open door and slipped inside. It was far smaller than the ballroom, but still grand. Paintings hung along the walls—a few you recognized to be in Feyre’s style. The thing that caught your eye, though, was the handsome piano in the middle of the room. A smile tugged at your lips. It had been so long since you’d had a chance to play. During your family’s dark years, you of course didn’t have access to any instruments, much less one so expensive. When you arrived in Velaris, straight out of the Cauldron, you had clung to the instrument, letting all of your pain flow out of you until there was nothing left. These days, though, you had strayed away.

You took a seat at the bench and ran your fingers along the ivory keys. You tested a few notes to see if it was still in key, but you didn’t make it very far. 

“Do you play?”

Tamlin stood in the doorframe, watching you curiously. Panic settled in your chest. If the Inner Circle, if Feyre, found out that you were alone with Spring’s High Lord, you knew they would be less than pleased. But that tug in your chest—it pulled harder than it ever had before, and that brought you an odd sort of comfort. 

“Yes.”

“May I hear you play something?”

You eyed him, trying to ascertain if this was some trick. As much as you wanted to believe your family was being overdramatic, you did wonder if they knew something you didn’t. When you sensed no ill motives, you gave a nod. 

As you pressed down on the keys, it felt like everything melted away around you. There was no inter-court politics to be wary of. No Shadowsingers following close on your heels. No sisters whose heart would surely break if she knew you were letting him in. Just you and the music that flowed out. 

“That was beautiful,” he said as the final note rang through the room. He took a few steps closer to you. Tamlin extended a hand. “I wish, though, that I could still hear it while we danced. If you would like to, that is.”

You stared at his outstretched hand. 

“Just say the word if you don’t wish to. I know you didn’t dance out there, but I thought, perhaps, without all those eagle eyes watching you—”

You took his hand. “I’m not the best dancer.”

“That’s alright. Neither am I.”

Tamlin was a right liar, he was. As he spun you around the room, you clumsily just missing his feet, you knew he was a liar. But the awkward dance made you laugh, harder than you had in a long time. The tug in your chest pulled more than it ever had before. 

“If this is you at your worst, I would hate to see how skilled you would be after a few lessons,” you teased. 

“We could take lessons together,” Tamlin suggested. The thought made your smile grow, though you weren’t entirely sure why. “Maybe after tonight, your High Lord will let you visit more often.”

“Perhaps—” you began to say. 

“That will never happen.”

Shadows swirled around you, tugging you out of Tamlin’s arms. You gasped, a chill running down your spine. Large wings kept Tamlin out of your view. When you tried to look around Azriel, his hands came to rest on your hips, holding you in place. 

“Did he do something to you?” Azriel asked. 

“What? No!”

“You just disappeared. Everyone’s in a panic. Feyre looked ready to kill, Nesta ready to hide the body. We didn’t know what happened to you. We didn’t know if you were hurt or—” He glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing at Tamlin. “—or worse.”

“I’m fine! I’m not some damsel in distress—”

“Of course not. But you have to understand—”

“No! You have to understand that you are not my knight in shining armor, Azriel! I am not so stupid to just waltz headfirst into danger. If I ever found myself in such a position, I would have screamed or called out for Rhysand and prayed he was listening. I do not need saving, especially not—” You caught Tamlin’s eye over Azriel’s shoulder. Something snapped into place, a golden thread tying you to him. “—especially not with my mate.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed. Hurt, maybe? Or anger? “He can’t be—”

“He is. He is the reason I felt the calling to come to Spring, Az. He’s my mate, and you have to respect that.”

Behind you, you heard a flurry of footsteps as the room quickly filled. Your eyes squeezed shut. Fuck. Was it not enough to have to deal with Azriel? Did everyone else have to come, too? 

Feyre’s voice rang through the room. “Y/N, come here, please.”

“I should be allowed to make the choice to come, shouldn’t I? Isn’t that what the Night Court is all about?” You looked at her, a solitary tear dropping down your face. “What? Are choices not allowed when it goes against your wishes?”

“Please,” she repeated, her hand reaching out for you. 

Tamlin stepped around Azriel, stood by your side. “I would not hurt her, Feyre. I have given you every reason to distrust me, to hate me, but I wouldn’t do anything to her.”

Feyre closed the distance between the two of you, Rhysand hot on her heels. She snarled at Tamlin, “I have every reason to not believe a word that comes out of your mouth.”

“I understand—”

Her finger jabbed at his chest. “Don’t. Don’t you dare give me any honeyed words or false promises about how Y/N—my sister—being your mate changes things. A skunk still stinks even when it hasn’t sprayed.”

“Feyre, please, can’t we just talk this through—” you tried. This was going horribly wrong. You hadn’t imagined any of this would happen just by following the tugging in your chest. A mate, you might have suspected. But all of this—

Her head snapped toward you. Her eyes glazed over as Rhysand spoke into her mind. When they cleared, she spoke with the authority of a High Lady but with none of the love of a sister.“You said we could leave if I became uncomfortable. I would like to leave,” Feyre said. “Rhys, please, get her out of here.”

Rhysand’s hands were on you, winnowing you away, before you could even dare to make your protests. But you didn’t miss the pain in Tamlin’s beautiful emerald eyes. 

Feyre had made a terrible mistake. Since that horrible, awful ball, you were moved into the River House so she and Rhys could keep an eye on you. While you might not have been able to leave the House of Wind without an Illyrian to fly you down or otherwise brave the 10,000 steps, that didn’t mean that you wouldn’t try to go. At least here, they could make sure you remained in place. Anyone who wished to see you, save for Spring’s Cauldron damned High Lord, could. They just needed to make are that something horrible wouldn’t happen. 

But you hadn’t left your room in weeks. They would send food up to you, but would find only small bites taken out of it when they came for the next meal. You had said scarcely a single word. The only time you would move from your bed was to take a bath, where you would sit for hours still. Once, Feyre had gone to check on you, to make sure that you hadn’t hurt yourself, and found you staring at the bubbled water, unblinking. You hadn’t even realized she was there.

The only person you seemed to respond to was Azriel. He would go to your room, crawl in your bed, and play with your hair. Sometimes, Feyre would linger in the doorway, watching you and him. Azriel would talk to you, try and convince you to leave your room. You would only cry.

And now, Feyre paced the length of Rhys’s office, chewing on the corner of a fingernail. Rhys sat at his desk, his face leaned against his palm. 

“I don’t know what to do,” she said. “I don’t know how to make this better. She, she’s wasting away in there.”

Rhys let out a sigh. “There is an obvious solution to the problem, though not the preferred one.”

Feyre spun on her heel, narrowing her eyes at her mate. “You know perfectly well that I can’t just let her be with Tamlin. It would be safer sending her into a viper’s den.”

He rose and crossed the room, took her hands in his own. “You don’t mean that. You and Tamlin were not right for each other, especially after everything that happened Under the Mountain. You no longer wanted the same things as him. Was his actions wrongful? Of course. He could have tried to help you, but you also pushed him away. It was doomed from the start.”

“And I should let her go into a doomed relationship with him?” Feyre poked her finger at Rhys’s chest. “She is too good for that. She deserves a better mate.”

“I agree. But the Mother found reason to bind their souls together. You once thought I was something straight out of a nightmare, but look how far we’ve come.”

“I recall you hating Tamlin for everything he did to me.”

“And I do. I still do.” A sigh escaped Rhys’s lips. “But I also look at Y/N and remember having to leave you behind in Spring. I remember collapsing in Mor’s arms, begging for just a chance with you. I was a shell of myself then. I worry that if we keep them apart, we’ll lose her either way.”

Feyre turned away. She looked toward the door. For a flicker of a moment, she wished she could go back to that horrible cottage, when she was still a human. Even if survival was a struggle at best, she didn’t have to worry about your sweet soul being taken advantage of. 

“Send a letter to Tamlin,” she finally said. “Tell him he is welcome to come here. If Y/N so wishes to leave with him, she may. But make clear, if a single hair on her head is harmed, if we receive a single word that she is being treated as anything less than what she deserves, it will constitute an act of war.” 

Tamlin stared up at the River House. He had moved faster than he had ever moved before when the invitation to come to the Night Court was extended. So fast, he realized with a glance at his feet, he forgot to put on shoes before winnowing away. He hoped you wouldn’t mind. Ever since Rhysand had winnowed you out from under his nose, he had been a mess. If Tamlin thought losing Feyre was him at his lowest, it paled in comparison to losing you. Worse yet, he had the previous experience to know he couldn’t give into his desperate impulses and expect everything to go smoothly. No, he had to tread carefully. 

Still, he found himself sending you letters over the last few weeks. Tamlin never received a response, but he never expected one. He wasn’t sure how well you were being surveilled, if the Inner Circle were taking active steps to keep you from contacting him. But he hoped his words brought you some modicum of comfort. 

The door swung open before he had a chance to knock. Rhysand looked him over. “You didn’t have time to at least make yourself presentable?”

“I thought if I took too much time, the invitation would be rescinded.”

Rhysand’s brow raised. “I wasn’t aware you could have such intelligent thoughts. You know, since you had sided with Hybern so readily in the beginning.”

Tamlin bit back a snarl. It would not end well to pick a fight with Night’s High Lord. He knew good and well he was out-powered, and he was sure that Feyre’s threat should also extend to any threat her own mate faced. Instead, he said as diplomatically as he could manage, “It was a terrible mistake, but one I would make again if it would give me a chance to live a long life with my mate, should she so have me.”

Feyre appeared, pushing Rhysand out of the doorway. She, too, scrutinized his appearance, nose wrinkling at the sight of him, but at least had the courtesy to say nothing about it. “You came quickly.”

Somewhere in the distance, Tamlin could hear Cassian chortle and mutter something about “that’s what she said.” 

“I did not know how long this invitation of hospitality might remain open.” Tamlin searched Feyre’s eyes, searching for a sign of your wellbeing. “Is she alright?”

Tamlin watched as Feyre swallowed, her hands subtly shaking. She had always cared deeply about her sisters, perhaps you more than Nesta or Elain. Where Nesta could hold her own and Elain was sweet enough to charm any potential suitor, she worried that you were too quiet for your own good. Too willing to slip into the shadows and be forgotten. 

“She has hardly eaten since that night. We…We have fixed dinner. We thought she might be more amenable if you brought a plate to her room?”

“Of course, of course,” Tamlin said. Feyre moved out of the threshold, motioning for him to step inside. He did. “Has she…?”

“She hasn’t said a word. She just sits and stares. I thought females were able to suppress the bond. I don’t understand why she is so afflicted.”

Tamlin suppressed an eye roll. He had to play nice, at least until he could see you again. Until he could find out if you wished to be his mate. “You took her choice away, Feyre,” he bit out, weighing his words carefully. “Anyone would be heartbroken by such a betrayal. Wouldn’t you agree?” 

Rhysand snarled, but Tamlin ignored him. He maintained eye contract with Feyre until she looked away, gesturing to the dining room. “Take a plate to her room. Just up the stairs, third door on the right.”

He gave a curt nod and did as directed. Every step weighed him down. Tamlin was grateful, at least, for the plate in his hand, to distract him from the sinking feeling in his chest. Neither you nor him had closed off the bond. Tamlin felt every bit of your anguish and he had done everything he could to send comfort down the bond. Every day, he prayed to the Mother that it helped you. Now, as he stood on the other side of your door, he wasn’t sure it did.

The door was ever so slightly ajar. Tamlin pushed it open. The sight nearly made him fall to his knees. You were laying in bed, back to him, staring out the large window overlooking the gardens. If it wasn’t for a subtle rise and fall of your chest, he might have thought you dead. Tamlin stepped inside, walking around your bed, until he faced you. He set the plate on your nightstand and knelt in front of you. 

“Have my dreams begun to torment me, too?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“No,” Tamlin whispered back. He reached out, cupping your face in his hand. His thumb run over the swell of your cheek. “I am here. I am real. Feyre allowed me to come.”

“I cannot even trust my subconscious now,” you said. You rolled over onto your back and stared up at the ceiling. Your comforter moved with you, revealing the papers you kept clutched against your chest. Your eyes fell shut. 

Tamlin sat on the edge of your bed. He reached over and brushed your hair from your face. “Open your eyes, please. I am here. Feyre had Rhysand send me a letter, inviting me here. I can show you if you like?”

An eye opened. “I doubt you could. Everyone knows that written word in dreams hardly makes sense.”

He pulled the letter tucked away in his pocket. Carefully unfolding it, he pressed it into your hands. Your other eye opened. Slowly, you sat up, dropping the other letters—his letters—from your grip. Your eyes scanned over the page, once, twice, three times. Slowly, you looked up, as if seeing him for the first time. 

“You’re here?”

“I am.”

“Feyre allowed it?”

“She did.”

Your hand moved to your mouth. You chewed on your thumbnail. “She would hate me if I left.”

“She would not. And, even if she did, that is her burden to bear. Feyre cannot keep you sheltered here anymore than I could her.” Tamlin grabbed the plate and held it out to you. “Could you eat first, before we talk about this? Please?”

You stared at the plate for a long, silent more. Tamlin nearly thought you hadn’t heard him. He was ready to ask again, the words on the tip of his tongue, when you looked up at him. “Could we go to the gardens to eat?” 

“Of course.” 

Tamlin extended a hand to you. You slipped yours into his grasp. Joy soured through him. He bit back his smile as he helped you to your feet. His hands were quick to move to your waist, steadying you as you swayed. How long had you been laying there, in that bed? Had you even left it? A part of him, a territorial part he worked hard to keep at bay, had half a mind to scold Feyre for waiting this long. He, of course, would be a hypocrite if he did. But you also deserved someone in your corner. 

Slowly, the two of you moved out of your room and down the stairs. At the creak in the wooden steps, all conversation in the dining room ceased. There was a scrape of a chair. Feyre appeared in the doorway as you reached the bottom step. You didn’t make eye contact with your sister as you turned for the exit. 

“Y/N wished to eat in the gardens,” Tamlin said and followed after you. He did not wait for Feyre’s response. 

You stared at Tamlin, chewing on the bread that Elain had made. He made no protest when you plopped yourself on the dirt path. He only sat across from you and watched as you slowly ate your food. It nearly made you sick, if you were honest. You hadn’t experienced this level of hunger since you were human. You remembered when Feyre would bring food home, how you would have to eat slowly so you wouldn’t vomit it all up. There was something about such extreme hunger that it almost felt like food couldn’t save you from the gnawing pain. 

“I still do not quite believe you’re really here,” you said. 

“I can promise you, I am.” Tamlin reached for your hand, and you allowed him to take it. His thumb stroked over your knuckles. “I have missed you. If I wasn’t concerned that an unprompted arrival would have waged a war no court could surely handle, I would have come sooner.”

“It was not right what they did…” You trailed off. 

Tamlin’s emerald green eyes twinkled with curiosity. “But?” he prompted. 

“I am not sure I can find it in my heart to leave them,” you said. His face dropped. His hand started to pull away, but you tightened your grip. “Feyre and Nesta are still here. While Feyre may have given the order to take me away, she is my sister. She sacrificed so much for our family. I feel like I would be throwing it all back in her face to go to Spring with you. At least when Elain left, she was going with Lucien to Day. People she could trust, you know. I worry that if I leave with you, she would never see me again.”

He straightened. “I would never keep you from your sister. Any of them. I have done little to prove such, but I have learned from my mistakes with Feyre. I have grown, am still growing, from them.”

“Not because of you,” you corrected. “You know how she feels about you. Even if I extend an invitation to her, she still may never come. And she may never extend one back. I could never forgive myself if I damaged our relationship so.”

Tamlin’s eyes searched yours. For what, you couldn’t be certain. 

“If she does so, she would be the one to damage the relationship. I have hurt her greatly, I understand. But, if she chooses to plant herself between you and I, that is her choice to make and her consequences to bear.” He reached over, cradling your face in his hand. “You are a grown female. If this is a mistake of its own, then it is your mistake to make. She cannot keep you here any better than I tried to keep her in Spring.”

You looked away. You pushed the plate away and began to rise. Tamlin followed after you. As you began to walk down the path, he trailed after you. He kept a distance between you, far enough that he wasn’t on your heels but close enough that he could be at your side in a few long strides. 

In your heart, you knew he was right. But you couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal, no matter how hard you tried. After everything Feyre has done, after all she has suffered, staying with her was the least you could do. Yet, why would you sacrifice your happiness for hers when she was so quick to rip it from you without even listening to what you had to say? You could not yet forget  the cold look in her eyes as she ordered Rhysand to winnow you away. She was not your sister then. She was anything but. 

“Come to Spring,” Tamlin said from behind you. You paused in your step. You did not turn, but you listened. “It does not have to be permanent. Come to Spring, see if this is worth it. If you decide that it is not, then I will not stop you from returning here. I will respect whatever choice you make, but I would appreciate it if you could give us a fair shot. That is all I ask of you, I swear it.”

You turned. You looked past Tamlin at the River House. You were certain that Feyre and Rhysand were trying to listen in on the conversation. You were sure they were waiting for your answer. But, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care what they thought. After all, they hadn’t cared to ask if you even wanted Tamlin as a mate. 

“One chance,” you said. “One chance, and if I decide to that I would rather a relationship with Feyre, you must not follow.”

“I promise, whatever you decide in the end, I shall respect it.”

Feyre watched as you gripped Tamlin’s arm, an apologetic smile on your lips. She had a million things she wished to say to you—a hundred warnings, a few hundred thousand promises to have her door open to you if you ever want to come back, and an acceptance to the offer to visit Spring in a month’s time. Instead of saying any of those things, she mouthed a goodbye while Tamlin winnowed you away. 

Rhys’s hand fell to her shoulders, steadying her as she swayed on her feet. Somewhere in the distance, she could see Nesta and Cassian hovering. Elain and Lucien busied themselves with clearing the dishes. 

“She’ll be alright,” Rhys said. “He is not so stupid as to make the same mistakes again.”

Feyre hummed. “Is this where you say it's different with mates?”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen too many awful mated couples to say that with any ounce of sincerity. But, I will say, he does seem different with her.”

“And if he isn’t,” Nesta said, stepping toward her, “he will pay tenfold for any pain he causes her.”

Feyre nearly laughed as she watched Cassian nod enthusiastically to Nesta’s threat as he bounced Nyx on his hip. She could only hope that you knew how protected you were—that you had the entirety of the Night Court to support you should trouble ever make its way to you. But any laughter she had, any words she wanted to say, died in her throat as shadows flooded the River House. 

Azriel. 

Shit. Rhys had sent him off on a mission a few days prior. Azriel had been reluctant to go—one of the few times she was certain that Azriel would fight her mate to the death on an issue. But it was Feyre’s promise to keep you safe in the River House that gave him leave to go. She had forgotten that when she had the letter sent to Tamlin, when she bid you goodbye. You were gone now and, worse, you hadn’t said goodbye to him. 

“Where. Is. She.”

Feyre turned, looking at Azriel’s towering form darkening the doorway. His wings were flared out behind him, beating furiously as his shadows continued to search the home for any sign of you.

“She has gone to Spring, with Tamlin.”

Azriel growled. His nostrils flared. The shadows began to swirl around Feyre. Rhys took a step in front of her, ready to block any attack sent her way. Would Azriel attack her? Why would he be so upset about not being able to say goodbye to you? She knew he pined after you, but she thought it was like Mor and Elain. Something one-sided. Had she missed something? 

“It was her choice, brother,” Rhys said. “We are welcome to visit her whenever we so please. If you would like, we can go now, just so you may have a chance to talk to her.”

“If I go to Spring, I’m bringing her straight here. This is where she belongs. Not with that swine of a High Lord.”

“She has every right to choose to be with her mate—”

“No!” Azriel snapped. “I am her mate!”

It felt like time froze. Everyone stared at the Shadowsinger. Even Elain and Lucien came out from the kitchen, concern about his antics. Feyre blinked. No, that couldn’t be. Tamlin was your mate. You had felt the bond with him, and he you. 

“Triads are a thing of legend,” Rhys said slowly. “They haven’t existed in millennia…Cauldron, no one has ever been sure they were ever truly real. You aren’t suggesting…”

“All I know is that the bond snapped when I found her crying after Nyx’s birth, so certain she’d lose her sister, brother-in-law, and nephew in one fell swoop that all three of you surviving overwhelmed her. It snapped as I held her, trying to reassure her that all was right. That no one would hurt her or her family.” Azriel took a step toward them, glowering. “You have sent my mate into a lion’s den. Lesser males have killed for lesser slights.”

“Azriel, I’m sorry. I didn’t know—” Feyre tried. 

But he was already gone—wings rustling against the wind as he flew away. To where, she couldn’t say for certain. 

PART TWO

[heartless-tate]

Lovers | Feysand X Freader

A/n; based off this request! Tysm for the request, I hope you enjoy! warnings; smut, lil bit of angst?, threesome, p in v, v in ur mouth 😍😍, cussing? Message me if I missed anything guys! Happy reading!

It had been 2 weeks since the night. You had stayed holed up in your apartment. You were embarrassed- or no ashamed? Confused? And bewildered by what had happened. Rhysand had invited you to Rita’s with the inner circle. You had went- enjoyed the night. And then it was time to leave. Everyone went their separate ways, except you. So you ended up on the couch beside Feyre and Rhys, drinking the tea she had made you.

“Thank you Feyre.” You whispered, grasping the hot tea she had made you. She smiled and nodded, keen eyes watching as you sipped on it. She sat down beside you again, closer this time, leaving you almost sandwiched between her and Rhys. You all sat in comfortable silence as you finished your tea. You hadn’t been drinking that night, as you didn’t feel like it. The drink was warm in your body. It relaxed you. You almost didn’t notice Rhysand’s wing brushing closer to your skin. You decided he hadn’t done it on purpose and ignored it. Until you turned your head to Feyre, and her lips were smashing against yours. She was kissing you. Her lips tasted of cherries. She chopped your face gently but firm. What was happening? You waited for Rhys to freak out but before you knew it, you felt his hand on your waist and thighs, his lips meeting your neck. Oh gods. What was happening?

And why did it feel so good? You melted into the kiss before jerking back, gasping for air. They both pulled back. Their eyes were glued to you. Your face was flushed slightly.

“Are you okay with this?” Rhysand purred behind you. You didn’t have time to think before you were nodding.

“Yeah.”

The night was magical. They certainly worked as a pair to make you cum more then once. And by the end of the night, hours later, you laid in their arms. And then in the morning you went home before they woke. You had no words. What were you suppose to say? You had shown them your most vulnerable side. Naked and pleading for them-

And now you didn’t know where any of you stood. You sighed internally. They probably were just trying something new and you were the easiest option. Easy. Easy.? Yeah. That was it. It was a one time fuck. You were just Feyre’s friend and Rhysand’s worker. Nothing more.

That thought shouldn’t of hurt, but it did. You weren’t anything. The urge to dissociate and never speak to them grew stronger. Run away and hide- but you could never escape from two beings so strong. Or would they even care if you left? They had eachother. They didn’t need you. You were a quick fuck.

A knock sounded on your door, distracting you from your thoughts. Who was here? You slowly slid from the bath, the water cold now. You threw on a shirt and made your way to the door. Cassian stood there.

“Hey!” He chirped loudly. His wings were flared slightly. He made note of your appearance. You seemed tired. And stressed.

“Hey Cas?” You said, raising an eyebrow. You leaned against the door frame. Why was he here?

“You haven’t been around in awhile! We were getting worried. You sick or something?” He pried. His eyes scanned your apartment behind you. It was a bit of a mess.

“Oh..yeah. Just haven’t been feeling well I guess.” You lied, knowing he would report back to Rhysand immediately. What we’re you suppose to say? ‘Oh I’m just sad and depressed because I fucked your high lord and high lady!’ Definitely not.

Cassian’s eyebrows furrowed. You did look sick. Your scent was weird too. Whatever you were, it wasn’t happy and healthy. “Have you seen a doctor?” He asked.

“No? I’m fine.” You said, wanting him to leave. He bristled slightly.

“Y/n-“

“I’m fine.” You growled. He sighed. He nodded.

“Okay.” And then he was gone. You felt bad, but you didn’t want to be around anyone right now.

Not even an hour passed before banging at your door started. What the fuck? You quickly approached the door and slammed it open. Before you could get any words out, hands were on your face, inspecting you. Rhysand.

“You’re sick.” He stated. he brushed your hair from your face, holding a hand to your forehead. Cassian snitched. The little fucker. You pulled away harshly, taking a step back.

“I’m fine.” You said for what felt like the millionth time today. He stepped forward with you, eyes narrowed. They searched over you, looking for injuries. He looked back to you. He sniffed the air.

“You smell weird.” He commented. You rolled your eyes.

“Wow thanks.” You said sarcastically. You turned around and walked back into your apartment hoping he’d get the hint and leave. He followed you in. He looked around the apartment.

“Maybe it’s this shithole. The air is musty around here, you should come live in one of our houses.” He purred with a smirk.

“No.”

His smirk dropped. He approached where you stood in the kitchen, his wings crowding the space as he stood behind you. He observed your cooking. “Cauldron. Being sick makes you cranky.” He teased. “If you were sick you should’ve told me. You could’ve come and let me and Feyre care for you.”

You tensed. What was he playing? You focused on the pot of your favorite comfort food. You stepped closer to the stove rather then being near him.

“I’m not sick.” You mumbled, wanting him to leave.

“Hm? Then why do you smell rotten?”

You flinched at his words. You turned around facing him. He was so tall. “Unless you came here for something else other then insulting me with every sentence, I suggest you leave.” You threatened. His eyes widened. His wings spread.

“You’re coming with me.” He declared suddenly. It was your turn to be shocked. “I suggest you start packing.”

Rhysand didn’t give you a choice, joining you in packing a few of your clothes. Why was he doing this?

You currently sat on a couch. The same couch where feyre ate you out. Where Rhysand fingered you. You shook the nasty thoughts away. Easy. You where just an easy fuck. Nothing more. You reminded yourself. Still- you felt a small growing heat in your body.

Feyre and Rhysand sat in front of you on the opposite couch. This was awkward.

“You have two options.” Feyre started.

“You can tell us what’s wrong and why you haven’t gone to a doctor, or you can let us call Madja.” Rhysand finished.

You groaned out loud. “For the last time! I’m fine. I’m not sick.”

Feyre opened her mouth to point out your scent. Rhysand stopped her.

“Then whats wrong?” Rhysand inquired. They both stared at you with big expecting eyes. You definitely weren’t getting out of this.

“I lied. I didn’t want to have to go back to work.” You mumbled. This was humiliating. Feyre quirked a brow. You weren’t the type that was lazy. You always showed up. You were a medicine specialist, and a healer. And also the best poison artist. Everyone in the inner circle loved you so much that you eventually just started being apart of it. And for you not to show up, meant something was wrong. Was it someone? No. You still smelled unhealthy.

“Explain.” Rhysand demanded, adjusting his position.

“I didn’t wanna be around you.” You stated. They both flinched and looked to each other.

“Is this about that night?” Feyre questioned. You stayed silent, not wanting to answer.

“Damnit Rhys I knew we made a mistake not checking in sooner.” Feyre growled quietly. Rhysand sighed, nodding in agreement.

“What?” You asked. What did she mean?

“We’re sorry we didn’t come and check up on you-“ Rhysand started. He sighed again. “I thought it would be best to give you space and let you process things.”

“Process? Process what? It was sex. That was it.” You barked.

Both of their faces dropped. “Just sex..?” Rhysand questioned. Feyre turned back to you. “It wasn’t just sex.” She growled challenging.

The room went silent. Feyre rubbed her temples. Rhysand stood abruptly. You looked up at him as he stepped closer.

“Love. It wasn’t ‘just sex.’ At least, not to us. It was much more. We both have liked, no loved, you for awhile. Ever since you joined the night court. We thought us making love to you made our intentions clear. When you disappeared we assumed you needed space to adjust to having two mates.” Rhysand spoke softly, crouching in front of you.

Oh. Oh. “Mates?!” You whispered. He nodded. Oh mother. Two mates? They were your mates. Your fucking mates. A sense of panic filled your system. They were making love to you and you thought they were just fucking you. Of course you had a small crush on them. Who wouldn’t? But you never saw it going anywhere. But now? Mates. Mates.

You couldn’t help but warm, remembering the night. Remembering had originally made you feel embarrassed. But now? You remembered how gentle and loving they were. The way Rhys pumped himself gently into you, kissing at your neck, with feyre suckling on your swollen clit. Your face heated up at the memory. Talons caressed your mind gently. You quickly shook the thought away, embarrassed at the wet feeling in your panties.

A hand rubbed your knee. Feyre. She was now beside you both. “It’s okay, love. We know it’s a lot to process. But don’t lie about being sick again. It had us worried.” She motioned to your bags beside the couch. Her voice was slightly scolding.

“I..” you paused. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to. Let us in.” Rhysand murmured, two sets of talons gently scratching your mind barriers. You let the barriers down. You felt them both crowding in your mind, searching and going over all your thoughts the pass two weeks. Trying asses how you feel. You felt embarrassed.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of darling.” Feyre **purred in your mind. They looked to each other when they were done.

Rhysand’s hand slowly went higher on your leg. His hand approaching your inner thigh. You squeezed them together instinctively. He smirked.

“You’re not easy. You’re not an experiment. You’re are mate.” He said, loud and clear. Feyre nodded, moving to sit beside you. She brushed your hair behind your ear.

You nodded. “And we can take our time. We don’t have to rush into this. But please, don’t distant yourself away. We’ll wait days to years until your ready to accept our bond.” Feyre whispered.

I want to accept it now. You thought. They both smirked cheekily.

“Words, love.” Rhysand purred, his hands suddenly dipping under your skirt. You felt his fingers brush against your clothed pussy. An embarrassing loud wet noise sounded. His smile grew wider. Feyre snickered.

“I want to-“ you gasped as Feyre’s hands cupped your breast, teasing your nipple slightly. Rhysand took the opportunity to slip your panties aside and trail his fingers through your slick.

“Hm?” Feyre teased.

“I want to accept the bond- now-“ you whispered out, hand clutching at Rhys’s wrist. It did nothing to stop his finger entering your cunt. It was a stretch already. He was big. You only came up to Rhysand’s chest when standing in front of him, and naturally everything on his body was bigger. Feyre ate you out last time to help adjust your body to his cock.

“Good girl.” They said in your mind. The praise triggered a rush of heat to your body again. Feyre’s hands slowly unbuttoned your blouse. She leaned down and licked a stripe in between your breast. Her nails turned to claws as she effortlessly ripped away your bra. Your chest was bare now. Your nipples hardened to the cold air. She leaned down, sucking a nipple into her mouth. You moaned, clenching on Rhysand’s finger. ke knelt between your legs, taking his time in spreading you open. He added another finger.

“She’s so tight.” Rhysand groaned, watching as your cunt clenched down. It was making a lot of noise now. Feyre giggled against your chest, fondling the other.

“And sensitive.” She purred. She flicked your other nipple, causing you to cry out. It hurt, but it felt so good. Rhysand attempted easing another finger in.

“Relax baby, i won’t be able to stuff you full if I can’t get two fingers in.”

You took a deep breath, calming your body. Everything felt so hot. Your breath were coming out in short pants. Feyre moved away, causing you to whine. She giggled again, her claw scraping your head gently. Rhysand’s fingers slowly entered you, pressing against the right spot. A spot you knew your fingers couldn’t even reach. He suddenly jerked away, leaving you empty. You whimpered softly.

He smiled and started removing your skirt and panties. Your panties were soaked. He held on to them a little longer, taking his time in sniffing them lewdly. He set them aside. You were completely bare. They were still clothed. You felt vulnerable and weak around them. And for some reason that made you wetter. You were at their will.

Rhysand’s fingers entered again, setting a much faster pace this time. They pressed into your g-spot everytime they entered. You bit your lip, trying to contain your noises.

Feyre growled warningly, and leaning nipping your cheek. She caught your lips in a rough kiss, hand clasping at your jaw. Her tongue entered your mouth, exploring. It was so stimulating- it was hard to breath but you couldn’t care. Rhysand’s fingers pumping in you, and her tongue in your mouth. Rhysand’s tongue met your clit causing you to gasp. He kitten licked it a few times before pulling back. He was fingering you so aggressively. A third finger went in.

You moaned into Feyre’s mouth as her hand started toying with your breast again. A knot formed in your stomach. They weren’t even touching your clit and yet you were about to cum. Rhysand smirked knowingly. Feyre but your lip, and pulled away. She watched with piercing eyes.

“Look at your pretty pussy baby. It’s so wet. You’re soaking the couch.” She muttered, pulling your chin down to force you to look. Your wetness was all over his hands, practically drowning them. He was watching you. He pumped harder, enjoying the way your cunt squelched with each thrust of his hand. Your thighs clenched together, only his hands stopping them from closing completely. You were so close.

You yelled when his other hand came down against your clit, slapping it roughly. You didn’t have time to process it before you were squirting on his chest. His mouth immediately latched onto you, drinking in your juices greedily. You cried out, squirming, it was too much. Feyre watched with amazement.

“Awe. We have a squirter. You didn’t do that last time, sweetie.” She squealed. Rhysand moaned against your cunt, the vibrations making you whine. He pulled away, petting your inner thigh to soothe you.

“You didn’t have permission to cum yet. You disobeyed. And yet you came just from me slapping your clit. Such a needy slut for us.” He scolded, causing you to look away in embarrassment. You clenched around nothing.

“And she tastes so fucking good.” Rhysand said, swiping his fingers across your cunt before shoving them in Feyre’s mouth. Feyre moaned at the taste, slurping on his fingers loudly. You felt yourself grow wetter at the sight. Rhysand leaned up taking his fingers out and smashing his lips on hers. They made out aggressively, growling and nipping eachother’s lips. You moaned at the sight.

It snapped their attention to you. They broke off the kiss, eyes sliding to your body. Your beautiful body.

“C’mere” Feyre whispered, grabbing you gently and winnowing both you and Rhysand into their room. You landed in the bed. You watched as they undressed quickly, making their way to you. Rhysand approached and dragged you to the edge. He slotted himself in between your legs. His cock was hard and throbbing. It was massive. You wondered how you managed to take it last time. He smiled at your thoughts, petting your thigh softly. Feyre climbed on the bed, straddling your head. Her pussy was glistening and dripping wet.

“Open up darling.” She muttered, lowering herself onto your mouth. You quickly latched on, licking and slurping aggressively against her heat. She tasted so fucking good. Her hips rocked, slowly fucking your face. Her hands found your hair, holding you in place.

Rhysand ran a finger down your lips, watching as you squirmed. He was so hard. Painfully hard. He watched as you desperately slurped on Feyre’s cunt. Like a pathetic little puppy. God. He loved his two lovers so much. He playfully slapped your pussy again, making you whimper against her cunt.

“Shut up. You came without permission, so you don’t get a say in anything else.” Feyre reprimanded, pressing her hips down harder. She watched as you moaned helplessly. Her pussy dripped more juices.

Rhysand rubbed his throbbing tip up and down your slit, lubricating himself. His tongue ran over his lips.

You squeaked when Rhys shoved his long length in, it sliding easily in. It was a tight fit, and heat spread throughout your whole body. It felt like you were on fire. Feyre smirked and continued rutting her pussy on your face, watching as you mouth became a wet mess. She tasted like candy- and fuck it was good. You lapped helplessly on her clit. Rhys’ tip kissed your cervix, pushing. And then he started thrusting. His heavy balls slapped against your ass, creating wet noises.

You couldn’t help your broken moans, suckling on Feyre’s clit, and getting pounded roughly by Rhys. His hand rubbed your thigh, and his other flicked your clit a few times before rubbing it fast. You couldn’t do anything to stop him as you were overcome with an intense amount of pleasure. Feyre grasped your hair tighter, moaning loudly.

“Fuck- I’m gonna cum.” She groaned, watching as you whimpered and licked her desperately. She came in your mouth with a low feminine growl, claws scraping your hair. Her release filled your mouth, and you swallowed it obediently. She moved away, kissing you gently. A sharp contrast from her fucking your face. Rhysand pinched your clit, slamming his cock deeper into you. A familiar knot formed in your stomach, making you moan. His hand moved from your thigh, rising to your stomach where he bulged. He was so deep. He pressed onto it roughly, watching as your back arched.“Stupid slut- you enjoy this so much don’t you? Getting fucked by your two mates. Look how deep I am. Gonna fill this tight little cunt up.” Rhysand stuttered out, his moans filling the room. Feyre moved, letting you see the bulge in your stomach that formed with every thrust up. Holy fuck. His other hand started roughly rubbing your clit.

“No-“ you whined out. It was too much. “Can’t!” Rhysand leaned forward, knocking you in a mating press. His hips snapped roughly into yours. He gently kissed you and leaned over to kiss feyre, ignoring your cries. He only went faster, not listening. He pulled away from Feyre. “Rhys- please-“ You screamed. And then the knot snapped, your body shaking vigorously as you came on his dick.

And he didn’t stop. His hips snapped aggressively, heavy balls full of cum. He snickered as you tried squirming away.

“Where you goin’ baby? Not done yet- gonna stuff this pussy full of cum. You want that right?” He purred, lifting your legs on his shoulders. He gently kissed your ankle. Feyre leaned and started biting and nipping your chest. It was too much.

“Y-yes!” You yelled, feeling dumb fucked. His cock dragged along your walls, aggressively hitting the spot that made your toes curl. Your moans came out in broken chants of their names, your eyes rolling in the back of your head.

“Oh cauldron- gonna cum.” He whimpered out, flicking your clit wildly. His cock slammed in one more time, stilling and releasing ropes of hot cum. The feeling brought you to your next release.

The room filled with pants and the smell of sex. Feyre’s hand gently rubbed your stomach, soothing you. She released your nipple and grinned happily. She brushed back a piece of sweaty hair.

“So cute..” she praised. She kissed your cheek. Rhysand slowly pulled out. He patted your thigh gently.

“Did so good baby.” He praised too. Everything was hazy, and spinning. You were blissed out. He smiled and tapped your face a few times.

“You with us?” He muttered. You nodded. He leaned back and slid a finger in your cunt, causing you to gasp. He pulled it out, stringing your juices and his cum. He smirked and licked it off of his finger.

“Ready?” Feyre asked.

“What?” You questioned.

“Oh cmon on. You didn’t seriously think we were done with our little cum dump yet did you?” She laughed. Rhysand grabbed your hips, flipped you around and pulled your ass high in the air. He leaned down and licked a stripe up your cunt.

“No. We’re far from done.” Your mate whispered, diving in.

[grandlinedreams]

|| notes: there'll be a second part to this, Cassian is a simp for being put in his place

|| warnings: winged!reader, a little suggestive

“Is this really all you've got?”

Sword locked against his, your eyes narrow at Cassian's taunt. He's doing it on purpose, trying to piss you off so you make a mistake. 

“Come on,” he continues, eyes bright as he grins. “Make me sweat for once.”

Sweat already beads at his temple, but you know he'll blame it on the sun that blazes high above you rather than anything you're doing. 

You leap back with the spray of dirt and sand beneath your boots, eyeing Cassian before you toss the sword to the side. “Okay,” you say, tugging your dagger free of its sheath at your thigh. “You asked for it.” 

Cassian's eyes gleam at the challenge. “That's more like it.”

You're beautiful when you fight.

Cassian isn't sure if it's the heat or the fact that the two of you have been at this for the better part of an hour that's lead him to this revelation ㅡ but he's struck by the honed, sleek movement of your body, eyes narrowed as you assess him.

He really hopes you can't tell the turn his own thoughts have taken. Get it together, he thinks firmly, shoving down the less than appropriate thoughts. There will be time for that later ㅡ when you're far away and oblivious to the goings-on in his room. 

Or maybe he could slip to Rita's, find a willing partner there ㅡ he'd done it before, what was one more? Except they weren't you.

Cassian comes to that revelation at the same time that you're darting forward and dropping down, leg swinging out ㅡ and his back hits the ground in a spray of sand.

You follow, however, and sharp metal meets the unguarded flesh of his neck. “Yield,” you tell him. 

Cassian stares. He wishes he could blame it on the force with which he'd hit the ground ㅡ but you're straddling him, wings flared out like an avenging angel ㅡ and he can't breathe, let alone speak. In that moment, he'd gladly let you be his downfall.

You stare at him, wondering if you'd let him hit the ground a little too hard ㅡ and then you feel it. You've been with enough males to know exactly what the pressure at your inner hip is. 

Your wings fold against your back before you lean back over him, leaning to murmur into his ear. “You like being underneath me that much, Cass?” 

The brush of your lips against the shell is intentional, and you can hear the hitch in his breath, the twitch of his hips ㅡ and then he rasps a quiet, “Yes.” 

You hum, let your mouth ghost over the column of his throat, pressing to the rapid beat of his pulse before you speak again. “You'll have to earn it.”

And then you're off of him entirely, striding away like you hadn't done anything ㅡ and Cassian moves to sit up, watching you go.

Oh, he is so absolutely fucked.

[bloodstainedsaint]

noises in the bedroom with ron, lew, lieb, luz, and shifty

word count: 770+

warnings: reader has female genitalia, degradation (only in ron's), praise, teasing, i call nixon a whore for the reader (it's true)

notes: i couldn't include babe in this one cause i just decided that i would write for him (and therefore i must do Research) but hope you guys enjoy anyway !!

ronald speirs

big on praise-degradation, like 50/50 on it

unless you managed to really set him off (ex; make him jealous on purpose, tease him, be a brat, etc.), then don't expect very many kind words

he can be so mean and unfair when he wants to, but by the end of it he’s worshiping you like you're a deity

he’ll call you a slut but his slut, yk?

could not care less about who hears — no one's gonna confront him about it anyway with his reputation, and they're definitely not coming up to you either since they know ron is going to be death glaring them the whole time

he groans and grunts huskily + openly and encourages you to not cover up/muffle your sounds with your hand

(quickies are, of course, the exception since that would be unsafe, and if higher-ups are around, obviously he's about to care; in any other situation though, no one is safe from hearing the two of you)

lewis nixon

somehow his moans are louder than yours???

LIKE that's not a bad thing, it just means he's enjoying it just as much as you but he's just so vocal about it, saying your name or princess, doll, sweetheart like his life depended on it

(he's such a whore for you, especially when he goes down on you. you're gonna be feeling the vibrations of his groans bc omg is he obsessed with eating you out…but that's another story)

this is mostly because he also does not care who hears (same exceptions as ron). i imagine dick having to come talk to you all flustered, his face matching his hair and his eyes cast to the ground, asking you guys to keep it down

…nixon definitely didn't get any play for two weeks after that

despite being the #1 slut for you, he still manages to tease you, saying things like, “tell me how bad you want it.” (as if he doesn't want it just as bad)

joseph liebgott

he's probably the biggest pottymouth out of the five

anything he does is followed up by a hoarse “fuck, doll” or “shit, (y/n)”

he's trying to cover up the fact that he's a bit of a whiner/panter

he’ll kiss marks onto and around your breasts to muffle the sound of his moans

definitely says “yeah, you like that?” or “that feel good, baby?” during foreplay, smirking down at you while you’re begging for more (he's a little cocky with it)

becomes soft during and afterwards; he's scared to be vulnerable but he can't help telling you how pretty you look, how good you feel, and how much he loves you

will probably confess some of these things in german so he's not as vulnerable, but you still get the gist either way (and if you do understand german, he's screwed)

george luz

honestly he's just kind of unserious, like this man is giggling he's so happy to be with you (and his laughter and smile are infectious so now you're laughing too and telling him to shut up)

he’ll praise you with jokes, telling you you're prettier than any pinup model

“rita doesn't have anything on you, beautiful.” cue you rolling your eyes with a smile and telling him he’s cheesy

he's a little bit of a cusser too (especially when you play with his hair), not to the level of lieb though

“damn, (y/n), i'm lucky you're all mine.”

eventually the jokes and goofiness dissolve into him straight up telling you how good you feel around him and that you're especially gorgeous like this

+ him confessing his love for you when he's still catching his breath

“(y/n), have i ever told you how much i love you?”

“maybe 100 times today, george”

“oh so not enough then” you kiss him before he can remind you again

shifty powers

loves to praise you (and be praised honestly)

like he swears up and down that you're the most perfect girl alive

he can't believe that you're his and he's yours

kind of shy about his moans but he can't stop himself/hide them well enough because he moans at the slightest touch (he's so in love with you)

whimpers when you say he's making you feel good and “don't stop”

he's definitely asking if you're sure about anything and everything, reminding you that you don't have to go through with this if you don't absolutely want to

you just have to be like “darrell c. powers, please just take me” and lord will he oblige you with the brightest goddamn smile on his face

-

taglist: @mads-weasley, @ronsparky, @dcyllom, @malarkgirlypop, @joetoyesbrassknuckles101, @samwinchesterslostshoe

[neuroprincess]

Law & Order: SVU - First Date + First Kiss (Preferences)

Classification: Fluff

Pairing: Alex Cabot, Casey Novak, Liz Donnelly, Olivia Benson and Rita Calhoun

Warnings: None

Word count: +1000

Alex Cabot

- The blonde quickly pulls herself together, trying to mask the confusion of feelings and the shock of seeing you after so many years without any contact, failing miserably. She feels a little lost, not knowing how to act, slightly out of it. And continues like this for the next few weeks, even showing up almost every day at the bakery until finally getting up the courage to ask you out to dinner. It's a fancy restaurant, at a table away from curious eyes and the atmosphere is pleasant, you talk about your lives so far, between laughs, wine and an occasional physical touch, like hands accidentally crossing, her touch on your back as you get up from the chair, pinky fingers so close as you walk along the sidewalk that one can feel the warmth of the other. Alex insists on taking you home, you stop in front of the apartment door and both smile nervously. "I missed you." She whispers, tucking a stubborn lock of hair behind your ear. "No more than I missed you." You stare at each other for a few seconds and ADA leans in, asking permission with her gaze to continue, then you nod, joining your lips in a gentle and needy kiss, full of emotion, longing. 

Casey Novak

- It was no surprise when, in the middle of dinner, Casey's phone rang and she was forced to run after some judge to get warrants, she had barely touched the food, nor had you, both immersed in a fun and spontaneous flirting. The following week she's waiting for you in the lobby of the precinct with a box of your favorite dessert, which was mentioned at dinner, and a mysterious proposal. She takes you for a apparently directionless walk until ending up at a softball practice cage, no one else there, all the equipment waiting. Her words are patient, hands soft around your waist, body warm and slightly sweaty behind yours as her fingers wander up the forearm to put hands together and teach you how to use the bat, it's almost too much, all the sensations and little things the ginger provokes without even realizing it. "Good shot, sugar." She celebrates happily when you hit one target, proud of the result of hard work, and lifts you, twirling in the air, faces coming closer and you kiss as if it were the right thing to do, it's deep and passionate, all the tension built up over weeks expressed in one act. 

Liz Donnelly

- Another night spent working late, it's become a kind of routine you've started to get used to. Long nights full of paperwork, words that start to blur together in a few hours and a dozen cups of coffee, sometimes energy drinks. The last folder has been checked and the notes reviewed, when the knock on the door wakes you up, surprised, as the building seemed empty except for the security team. "You know it's 1am, right?" Liz smiles, entering your office, a bottle of whisky and two glasses in hand "I thought you might need these." And offers one of them, a little fuller because she knows it's necessary. Hours pass without either of you noticing, the bottle is half full and you're both on the floor, high heels thrown on the carpet, messy hairstyles and trivial conversations. "So, Cabot and you...?" She asks suggestively. "Oh, no, no, actually... she's my sister." The woman is clearly surprised, you expect some kind of negativity, maybe a little suspicion, but she just smiles and approaches. "Great!" Closing the distance with a half-drunk, slow and sensual kiss. 

Olivia Benson  

- Board game days become a bi-weekly program between you, the two families start to meet often and a bond quickly forms, not unexpected considering how close your children are, like flesh and blood. The kids have fun in friendly competitions and eat snacks, sometimes preferring to play in the garden or watch random cartoons until they fall asleep. This time it's different, the pair went to a sleepover, you opened a bottle of wine, sipping it between relaxed conversations, a nice meal and close to midnight you're still awake. "Finally some time for the moms." She raises her glass and knocks on yours to toast the break, you both love your children, but they seem to be plugged in 24/7. "And without having to watch Trolls, I've memorized all the songs." You mumble, drinking the rest of the wine and snuggling up on the sofa, the woman unconsciously rests her arm on the headboard, touching your shoulder, both smile and try to pay attention to The Golden Girls. Almost impossible to do when long fingers wander over your bare skin, the genuine laughter and the magnetism that leads you to stare at her, enchanted. Eyes meet, breaths become heavy and you stop fighting the urge to finally kiss Olivia. 

Rita Calhoun

- Her presence is very pleasant, bringing some kind of comfort to your tiring work days and boring shifts, there are delightful conversations when the restaurant is almost empty, occasionally she even makes a witty joke. As a result, you've become good friends, despite all the differences, from personality, age to social class. Bonds are created in the small details, maybe in the kind and gentle way she treats you, how she pays attention to the almost insignificant things you've left hanging in the air during a conversation, proof of which is the limited edition of your favorite book she brings to one of the dinners. Inside is a card with an address, a time and telling you to meet her there. So you do, wearing one of your favorite outfits and silently praying to be appropriate, in the end it doesn't matter much, she has prepared a candlelit dinner in the botanical garden, just you two, the nature and the stars. "I really enjoyed our night, it was lovely." You whisper and play nervously with the hands. "And what about me?" Rita teases, stopping walking, and you blush nodding positively. She tries to say something more, but is interrupted by your lips on hers in a clumsy impulse, there's a doubt in the air, answered by her hands on your waist pulling you in to deepen the passionate kiss.

taglist: @scarr0713 @geekyandgay98 @heidss @loudchaoscoffee @quailbagutte @ctrlamira @milffilm @prentiss-theorem @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @grandtacoranchnickel @@multifandomlesbianic @janeyseymour @storiesofsvu

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[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

05/06/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; Taika Waititi; David Jenkins; Dominic Burgess; Anapela Polata'ivao; Wendy Andresen and the MOCATS; WatchParty Reminders;

Hey lovelies, so I had a huge recap together for you, with lots of fan spotlights and then tumblr decided to crap out when I saved my draft so I lost it all and I just don't have the time to redo it all today-- so I'll be pushing some news to tonight's if I can finish it on time this evening.

== Taika Waititi ==

As you all have seen, Taika was at the Met Gala last night with his wife Rita, an we got all sorts of fun pictures and gifs from him! I didn't have enough room to put much more but tried to include some various ones below.

Source: @/Kristen Schuletter's Instagram

Source: Vogue Magazine IG

Source: Rita Ora's Instagram

Source: Jeanne Yang's Instagram

== David Jenkins ==

Chaos Dad feeling a bit spicy about the War of Jenkin's Ear.

Source David Jenkins Twitter

== Anapela Polata'ivao==

Our beloved Auntie has what a Mid-Career Award! Read more about the recipients and the award here: https://www.pannz.org.nz/the-fame-mid-career-awards/

Source: Performing Arts Network NZ's instagram

== Dominic Burgess ==

Our dear Dominic is active and posting constantly on twitter now a days, seems he's getting lots more work, which is awesome! (And generally he's just being fun and silly <3)

== Wendy Andresen & the MOCATS ==

So good and bad news folks. Looks like the kittens have been adopted/the mama cat has been taken to a refuge to help get her adopted as well. That means no more kitten pictures for us-- but at least these babies get a good home! Thanks Wendy for keeping us up to date on their progress.

== Watch Party Reminders ==

Palm Royale WP May 9 via @LCWebsXOXO with the lovely @ dominicburgess approx. 4pm EDT/9pm BST/1pm PST! Available on Apple TV

Wrecked S2 WP May 6-May 10 3:30pm PT / 6:30pm ET / 11:30pm BST! If you need access feel free to dm me here at @gentlebeardsbarngrill or @aspirantabby42 on twitter.

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Cast Cards =

Finally, the card we've all been waiting for! Jonathan! AKA Karl! @melvisik thank you for including our favorite seagull!! Which also aligns with the Mermay Theme of Seabird!

Source: @melvisik's Twitter

== OFMD Colouring Pages ==

More fantastic colouring pages from our dear @patchworkpiratebear! My son and I are excited to color in Frenchie's flag, cause you know, we like attracting demons and stuff. Soup is also part of Mermay Day 7!

== Our Flag Means Fanfiction ==

A new episode is out from our crewmates over at Our Flag Means Fanfiction! It's a collaboration episode with Never Left Podcast! This time it's The Swearing Episode! Listen below on Spotify!

Source: Our Flag Means Fanfiction Instagram

== Met Gala Edits ==

Any situation in which this fandom can edit in OFMD characters, you know we'll do it, and the Met Gala was no exception. Below are some edits of our favorite characters joining the Gala!

Source: @ radicallysoft's Twitter

Source: @ heyhayley's Twitter

Source: @ spanishjenkies' Twitter

Source: @ ChaoticMulaney's Twitter

Source: @ofmooshd's twitter

Source: @ Appleteeth's Twitter

== Love Notes ==

Hey lovelies, in honor of both taking a break, and the last several days being crazy town on my end of things, I'm going for a silly love note today. Remember to take a break, otherwise your body's gonna do it for you <3

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by The Artful Possum | Em | Hand Embroidery Artist (@theartfulpossum)

== Daily Darby / Today's Taika ==

Theme today is my mood towards tumblr and destroying my damn draft. Gif courtesy of @ joeal-kaysani

[honeybeefae]

Finding Home (Lucien Vanserra x Reader)

Summary// Lucien had always felt like he was a wandering soul, never having a true place to call home. It was hard to deal with, to see others belonging and happy while he tried to find something to cling to that gave him the same feeling. It wasn’t until Starfall, when you gifted him something truly special, that he finally found out where he belonged. 

(Poor little Lucien needs all the love in the world and I thought he was perfect for this prompt. I hope you enjoy!:))

Prompt: Character A gifts Character B something heartfelt.

WARNINGS: None

Lucien sat with everyone at Rita’s as they passed drinks around, conversation flowing easily between them. Well, all except him. He was at the very edge of the table, fiddling with his glass of amber liquid while looking towards the door every few seconds. 

He didn’t even understand why he went to these things. Feyre always invited him but he constantly felt like he was intruding on them. No one really talked to him besides maybe once or twice, too engrossed with their friends and mates to notice that he was still there. 

And while he liked to think of himself above the need to have friends, deep down he was lonely. Tamlin was lost, his brothers were monsters, Feyre was busy with her own life, and he didn’t connect with any of the others besides acquaintances. 

It was the same day in and day out, leaving him wondering if he truly belonged nowhere, until you joined their group. You were a friend of Nesta’s that ran a local bookshop in Velaris, your cheerful demeanor making it easy for you to fall in with the rest of them. He had expected to simply exchange pleasantries with him and move on but for whatever reason, you latched onto him.

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late! Took forever to close up shop.” You apologized as you walked in the door, breaking him from his thoughts as several people greeted you warmly. “Have I missed anything?”

“Not much, Cassian and Rhys are seeing who can outdrink each other while Nesta is already showing both of them up. I think Azriel and Elain are out dancing?” Feyre shrugged, handing you a spare drink. “Other than that it’s been a pretty tame night.”

“For once.” You wink at her, looking over and finding Lucien sitting by himself. He perks up when you drag a chair over beside him, clinking your glasses together with a smile.

“And how is my favorite fox doing?” You chirped, taking a sip and enjoying the warm burn the alcohol gave you.

Lucien rolled his eye, his body immediately relaxing in your presence. “Better now that I’ve got someone interesting to talk to.” He replied, noting the way your cheeks slightly pinkened. 

“It’s not my fault you refuse to play nice with any of the others. Perhaps if you stopped brooding away in a corner, people might actually approach you.” You teased with a wink, looking around the bar casually. “Hells, you’d be surprised at the people you can pick up from this place.”

“Oh, you know something about that, do you? And here I thought you were a spinster content with books and cats.”

You stuck your tongue at his jest, hitting his arm playfully. “I know more than you think I do, thank you very much.”

There was a tension that was now swirling between the two of you, the conversation taking on a much more suggestive tone that was about to cross a line of no return. He stared at you, trying to not let his imagination run wild right in front of you before you awkwardly cleared your throat and looked away.

“So, are you looking forward to Starfall?” You changed the subject quickly, taking another sip.

“Uh, I guess?” Lucien responded hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck and looking out the window at the night sky. “Not so much for the party.”

“Oh, that’s the best part! The music, the food, the atmosphere, it’s enchanting. I haven’t met anyone that didn’t enjoy it.”

“It’s just not for me. I don’t fit in with the rest of them that enjoy it.”

Your mouth twisted into a frown at his words, a look of pity in your eyes. He saw it and scoffed, looking at you sternly and saying, “Don’t give me that look, Y/N. I don’t need your pity.”

“It wasn’t pity, Lucien, I just hate that you feel that way. You know it’s not true.” You said earnestly, placing your hand over his in a moment of tenderness. “I think you just need-”

“I don’t need anything, Y/N. I’m perfectly happy as I am.” He snapped, looking away when you flinched at his tone. “Sure, after Jurian and Vassa became a thing and I got kicked out, I was once again by myself, but apparently that’s just how the Mother wants me to be. I can deal with that, I don’t need sympathy.”

His words were harsh and he didn’t mean half of them, he just had a hard time whenever someone felt sorry for him like he was some sort of lost child. It hurt his pride and it reminded him that despite his protests, that’s exactly what he was. No home to return to, no family to miss him, and some nights he would just yearn for someone out there to care about him.

It made him feel pathetic, to want something like that.

You weren’t entirely buying his macho act. Anyone that had been through what he had been through would feel at least some pain from it. And although you hadn’t known Lucien as long as the rest of your friends, you knew he struggled with it.

However, you didn’t want to push him anymore tonight, raising your hands in surrender before finishing the rest of your drink. He watched you carefully, feeling guilt gnaw at him from the way he had attacked you for simply being concerned. 

“I’m sorry.” You apologized, standing up to go join the rest of your friends who were now dancing. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He wanted to hit himself over the head when you walked away, feeling like the world's biggest asshole. This was the reason he didn’t have anybody in his life, this was the reason people didn’t stay with him long. It wasn’t the cauldron cursing him, it was his own damn self. 

The music was loud as he gathered his things and left the club, looking back just long enough to catch you chatting up a man at the bar before forcing himself to leave to go back to his apartment. He was already dreading tomorrow.

Starfall, House of Wind

It was crowded and loud, full of people he didn’t know as he lounged against a balcony rail. The sky was already dark as well as the rest of the city, everyone gathered around as they impatiently waited for the souls to rain across the sky.

You hadn’t shown up yet, not that he should be looking for you after what he said to you. Feyre and Rhys had given him a cordial welcome, as well as Cassian, but other than that he was by himself. As the minutes ticked by he started to contemplate just going home and watching it from his window.

That was until he felt a warm hand slide down his arm, making him turn in surprise. You were leaning beside him, one of your arms tucked behind your back and a coy smile on your lips.

“Being a wallflower again, Lucien?” You teased, goosebumps rising on your arms from the chilly air. “It took me a while to find you.”

“Y/N, I didn’t think you would show up.” He breathed, standing up to fully face you. “I wanted to apologize for last night, what I said was harsh and-”

“Hush, I don’t want to hear you grovel to me. You’ll ruin Starfall.” You said sternly, moving your arm from behind your back to reveal what you were hiding. It was a small yellow box, with a ribbon tied delicately on top. It fit in the palm of your hand and Lucien was very confused.

“Who is that for?” He questioned, glancing around to see if anyone else was exchanging gifts. “Is it someone’s birthday?”

You huffed in frustration, grabbing his hand and prying it open before laying the box in it. “It’s for you. Honestly, how you are an emissary is beyond me.” The jab made him smirk, his fingers holding the box as if it were made of glass.

“You got me a gift?”

“It’s a Starfall gift. Some people give gifts to their loved ones, some don’t, it’s a personal preference.” You shrug, anxiously looking between him and the box. “Open it!’

Lucien stared at it, processing what you had just said. Loved ones. Was that what he was to you? Or was he reading too much into it? Would it be awkward to ask you that now? He suddenly felt like a schoolboy again, afraid to talk to the pretty girl in front of him. 

He gave you one last cautious glance before slowly undoing the bow on top, tucking it into his coat pocket before softly opening the box. 

It was a small key, made of light bronze with an intricate design on the top. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, trying to figure out what it was too. You bit down on your lip, hoping the dots would connect, but when he just stood there staring you groaned loudly.

“It’s a key to my house, Lucien.” You explain, grinning from ear to ear when his mouth dropped open. “I thought it would be nice for you to have somewhere to go to if you didn’t want to go back to the apartment.”

The silence was deafening and suddenly you were worried you had just completely screwed up your relationship. He was just standing there, staring at the key, and as the seconds ticked by your anxiety grew.

“If it’s too weird or you don’t like it you can tell me, it won’t hurt my feelings you.” You said softly, wrapping your arms around yourself as he continued to be speechless. “It’s a stupid gift, here I can take it-”

Suddenly you found yourself being crushed into his chest, his arms wrapping around tightly in a hug that immediately made you relax. Lucien’s heart was overflowing with different emotions, his mind trying to sort through it all as he held you as close as possible.

You had given him a key to your home, your life practically, inviting him to share it with you. Even though he had pushed you away and put up that barrier, you had seen right through him. You had just given him a home.

Lucien pulled back and looked down into your eyes, tilting your chin up so that you could see just how happy he was with your gift. “Y/N, you have no idea how much this means.”

A blush crept onto your face as you smiled bashfully. “I just wanted you to know that no matter what, you had a home to go back to. Everyone needs that.”

People around you gasped and you turned to look out into the sky, cheering when the first few souls raced across the sky. It was just as beautiful as you remember, your entire body leaning forward as the souls grew and grew until the entire sky was lit up. 

The music started up shortly after that, people dancing and glasses clinking as the celebration began. You didn’t notice how Lucien was staring at you, watching as you stared in amazement into the sky.

“I mean, how can you not think this is heavenly?” You sigh, resting your chin on your hand as you looked at him. “This is why I love Starfall.” 

He looked out towards the black, inky night and took it all in. The souls, the music, your gift, you, it was like he was in a dream. Lucien bent down beside you, taking your same position, and nudged your shoulder with his as he said, “I think I’m starting to love it too.”

[mirai-e-jump]

Animage October 2023 Issue ft. Aoto Watanabe Interview (translation below)

Publication: September 8, 2023 (between episodes 27-28)

"I'm on Top!"

Born and raised in the slums, Yanma Gast ascended to the throne with just his computer. He's the "President," who's earned the respect of the nation, or rather of his friends, for his passionate way of life. N'Kosopa has had a history of being forced to work as Shugoddam's supplier. Standing at the top is Yanma, who isn't afraid of any opponent.

"I won't flatter or bow down to you. Regardless of who my opponent is, I'll beat them down with guts and brains!"

It's his core belief

Charging down the path he believes in, Yanma claims to be a king of knowledge, and is by no means an bad person. He has the insight to see through both Gira's role as an "evil king" and Racules's true intentions. He's compassionate, someone who at times will subtly care for his friends, at other times, he'll show off a mature attitude. He's an exceptional engineer who's developed weapons such as the Ohger Calibur, and the mechanical lifeforms know as Shugod's. His many strengths are his main appeal.

The battle against the new enemy, Uchu King, is bound to be fiercer than ever. Yanma's engineering abilities, superior brains, and his belief to not give into anyone or anything will be a great source of strength for the royal Sentai.

-The cool things about Yanma, who can respect others-

"It's now been about half a year since the the start of the broadcast, how do you feel?"

Watanabe: Each day was long, but looking back, it felt like it went by in an instant, it's a strange feeling. I suddenly realized that we're halfway through filming, and every 5 episodes feel like the climax of the show, so now I'm thinking, "What's going to happen in the next 20 episodes?" (laughs).

"Since filming began, has your impression of Yanma changed at all?"

Watanabe: I felt that he was more friendly towards other people than I originally thought. As I'd said in one of my lines, I think that Yanma's stance is that he does what he wants to do, and only follows those who want to follow him. In the end, they all unite, and while I thought he didn't like helping others out, in episode 7, he talks about how friends should be, saying, "It doesn't matter if you're in the middle of a fight, you lend a hand when things get tough, and when it's done, you get back to fighting." Recently, there have been more scenes in which he offers alittle more help to the other kings, and I see him as someone who's opened up and discovered new sides to himself. For example, in the film, he tells Rita what he thinks, but when Rita says that they don't think the same way, Yanma backs off. Don't force your opinions onto others, and maintain a certain distance. I like the respect he has for the others. I also like the fact that Yanma isn't stubborn, and is able to accept other people's ideas, being flexible even if he thinks differently. Even though he has his own path, in order to follow it, he needs to think about things with an open mind, and see things from different perspectives. That's why he was able to come this far from nothing, and I feel that he's the type of person who'll grow the most in this world.

"In terms of his relationship with the other kings, he told Kaguragi in episode 17, "You'd never go along with anyone. In fact, that makes you more trustworthy"

Watanabe: In a way, that exchange with Kaguragi was cool, because it conveyed some good things about him.

"Furthermore, your relationship with Gira, Hymeno and Jeramie seems to be mutual ones.

Watanabe: That's right. Kaguragi and Rita are the type to put boundaries between themselves and others, so there's a sense of keeping a distance from them, on the other side, Gira and Hymeno are more direct. When it comes to Jeramie, I want to continue to be on equal terms with him. Jeramie comes off as rather cute, so I think we can have a relationship where Yanma pulls him along. But, what Jeramie has gone through is something we can't even imagine. So, I want to have a relationship with Jeramie where I can fight along side him in a normal way, to become alittle annoyed with him if he says something wrong, and to have a strong sense of respect for him. This is shown when we fistbump in episode 19, which is one of my favorite scenes.

"Is there anything you're conscious of in presenting the relationship between Shiokara and the others members of N'Kosopa?"

Watanabe: Honestly, I rarely discussed things like acting with them. Especially with Akka, Usuba, and Mayuta, I try not to get too close since those 3 have a relationship that is to follow Yanma's lead. Shiokara, played by (Yuhei) Chiwata-san, plays a more central role, and I'll see him thinking up his performance, but, he never bothers to tell me what he's going to do, and he doesn;t ask what we're going to do. Everyone just tries doing what they like when it comes to the performance.

"What was the most memorable interaction with Hirotsugu Mori-san, TomboOhger's suit actor?"

Watanabe: It didn't happen on set, but the first time we went out for drinks together was very memorable. Mori-san is a very sociable person, so we became good friends right away. We went out for drinks and both talked about how we got into King-Ohger, and what we wanted to do as Yanma, we talked so much that before we knew it, 5 hours had gone by (laughs). I'm not the best at socializing with other people, so I was really surprised by the fact that we had endless conversations during our first drinks together, and was impressed that we actually talked for 5 hours.

"It seems exactly like having a like minded partner."

Watanabe: Yeah. I felt like Mori-san created that kind of atmosphere.

"How is it doing the dub for TomboOhger?"

Watanabe: I think it's very difficult to perform using only my voice. In the beginning, when I would hear my own voice in the broadcast, I would sometimes think it lacked abit of energy or that it just didn't sound like Yanma. Now, I'm more conscious of performing while moving my body, throwing in more hand gestures than normal, and speaking in a lower tone.

-Interactions with children who reaffirmed his starting point-

"Do you have any memorable events, such as the stage greeting for the film?"

Watanabe: I was happy to be able to feel the enthusiasm of the audience. I usually spend time filming on site, so I only had a chance to see people's reaction by looking at their feedback online. When I actually saw the audience in person, it really felt like, "These people are happy to see us." In general, children don't get to post their feedback online, do they? Of course, I was happy to see the reactions of adults, but I was most excited for the children due to the fact that I myself watched Sentai as a child. When we were doing highfives, some children would come running up to me with their eyes sparkling, while others would be too nervous to look me in the eyes. When I was a kid, I was also the shy type, so I felt like I was looking at my younger self. I recognized that, "I'm acting for the sake of these kids," and it gave me more motivation for future filming.

"We're sure there'll be more opportunities to appear at events in the future, and we hope you'll be able to make more wonderful memories. Please tell us about your favorite episode so far, or what episode you have fond memories of."

Watanabe: It changes every time (laughs). If I had to pick, the scenes where everyone assembles are most memorable. The scene in episode 5 where the five of us finally stood side by side was very exciting, as we'd been playing our roles since the audition. There's the scene in episode 10 where we call for Legend King-Ohger, and I also liked the scene in episode 19 where all of us transform together. Things started out with just Gira and me, but then Hymeno, Kaguragi, Rita, and finally Jeramie, we grew one by one, and the process of seeing our group formation up close was probably why it's so memorable.

"Other than your role as Yanma, if you could name your favorite character, who would it be?"

Watanabe: For me, I'm a fan of Hymeno. I feel that the charisma Hymeno possesses is similar to that of Yanma's. Yanma gains allies by just doing whatever he wants, while Hymeno gets people to follow her through being selfish. I myself admire such people, and think it's cool that she's a loner, or rather, that she's selfish and doesn't follow others. I've always been more attracted to strong female characters who are willing to go ahead, rather than stand behind and offer support.

"Speaking of which, at the press conference to announce the film, you mentioned that your first love was Jasmine (DekaYellow) from "Tokusou Sentai Dekaranger."

Watanabe: That's right. Possibly due to the influences of Sentai, she gives off the image of the ideal woman (laughs).

"By the way, who's your favorite female character from anime and films?"

Watanabe: For anime, I really like Hancock from "One Piece." Films include Elizabeth from "Pirates of the Caribbean" and Padme from "Star Wars"…..The 3 people I mentioned are all either princesses who fight or high class ladies (laughs).

"You're consistent in the type of women you prefer (laughs)."

Watanabe: Yeah, I noticed that too. (laughs).

"As mentioned earlier in your conversations with Mori-san, is there anything you'd like to do as Yanma in the future?"

Watanabe: I want to do a scene where I'm in the rain, and Mori-san said he wants to do a 1 on 100 fight. So, we talked about wanting to do 1 on 100 fight in the rain (laughs). I was told we couldn't do that because I used to spray dye my hair blue, and the color would fade if it got wet. But, starting with the new chapter, I now have blonde hair, so I'm secretly hoping that we can finally do it. I have alot of things I want to do with my mentor, Gin-san (Ken Yoshizawa-san), and I can't wait to tell you all about it when it finally become a reality.

"We're looking forward to the day when Watanabe-san's visions are realized! Finally, please give us some highlights of future events."

Watanabe: The new chapter will not only bring in new enemies from outer space, but it will also explore the heart of the show's universe. I have a feeling that we'll be diving into the story of the world from 2,000 years ago and explore the roots of the Yanma and others. I'm very excited about it, and I'm sure that you'll enjoy the new developments as well!