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sempersirens · 1 year

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raising hell all over town

pairing: best friend's dad!joel x f!reader

summary: you've been a friend of sarah's since you were old enough to steal bottles of her dad's whiskey for parties. sarah was always the sensible one in your friendship, getting you out of the trouble you usually started. but now sarah has gone off to college, who else but joel could pick up the pieces?

content/warnings: 18+ mdni. alcohol. drugs. age gap. violence/fighting. smut: unprotected p in v, spanking

a/n: inspired by this gif set, and the wonderful @amanitacowboy & @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for introducing me to that yellowstone scene kind of nervous about this, my first proper smutty fic - i find smut really difficult to write for some reason (weird because i'm feral horny 24/7) so this was kinda out of my comfort zone but i hope you all enjoy! PSA: i no longer have a taglist! feel free to follow my updates blog @sempersirenswrites and turn the post notifs on to be notified when i post a new fic :)

Friday nights in Austin felt incomplete without Sarah by your side.

For years, she had been the epitome of your partner in crime; dragging you back to her place or putting you in a cab before the cops were called.

Had it not been for your fierce loyalty and protectiveness over Sarah, you're sure her dad would've barred you from the house years ago. Sarah was smarter than you in almost every way. Academically, emotionally, you name it.

Joel knew this, and he trusted the two of you together knowing you both balanced the other out. Watching the two of you reminded Joel of a younger version of himself and Tommy, always thankful that Sarah had followed in his footsteps as opposed to her uncle's.

Your relationship with your parents was rocky, to say the least, and the Miller's house had always been a safe haven for you. Joel had patched up your split lip or bloody nose more times than he wanted to admit for a girl your age. He swore he'd kill your old man one day for the states you'd turned up to their house in.

Still, he couldn't help but feel the urge to grab you by the shoulders and shake some sense into you from time to time. As much as his heart broke for you, it was also in your nature to be a damn brat. Joel had endured countless stifling days spent by the pool forcing himself to not let his eyes linger on the curves of your hips. He struggled to look you in the eye when he saw you sat on the kitchen counter waiting to leave for a party, your mini skirt riding dangerously high on your thighs.

There had been times when he had been reckless. Times that he'd had to pull himself away from your invisible grip on him and relieve his tension in the bathroom, fisting his cock onto the shower floor, biting down on the shape of your name on his tongue.

When he'd re-emerge into the living room, he knew that you knew. You'd look through your eyelashes at him and smile. His cheeks flushed, shame setting in at the speed at which he'd cum from the thought of your pussy clenching around his shaft.

He would never let it show, but something would rush through his body when he'd ask Sarah what the hell she do this time? He remembered one time in particular, as Sarah relayed the events of the night that had led to your bloody nose, he'd looked over at you perching on the counter. With blood leaking down your cupid's bow, you'd locked eyes with him and ran your tongue across your lip, revelling in the remnants of your victory.

Still, you had fine enough nights out with the girls from work. They just didn't get you the way Sarah did. They would shoot you judgemental glances from across the bar that lasted until the Monday back at work for whatever you had done this time that they disapproved of.

"They're just dull. You should see the way they look at me for literally just hooking up with guys." You had lamented to Sarah over the phone while you were both getting ready for your respective nights out on separate sides of the country.

"It's probably because they've seen you get through an entire friendship group before your second drink."

"Well, they should be taking notes. Tell me nobody at college is as fun as me." Jealousy tore through your chest at the thought of Sarah spending her time with new friends.

"Nobody here is as fun as you. They're very... reserved." You scoffed at her politeness.

"Babe, just say they're boring."

"I'm giving them a chance. Anyway, gotta go. Text me tomorrow and tell me the damage. Love ya!"

"Don't have too much fun without me. Love you too."

Despite their judging looks, you were always the first person they called upon to finish any mess they had gotten themselves into. Still, you were happy to oblige, even if it meant a few awkward minutes of silence at the coffee machine on Monday.

The group of you had poured out of an Uber into the busy bar around nine o'clock, buzzing with the confidence of your pre-drinks. Rounds of shots were ordered and consumed at a dizzying pace, and soon enough, bags of powder were discreetly distributed across the table.

"Bathroom?" Hannah, one of your closest and least judgmental co-workers nudged you.

"Thought you'd never ask." The two of you sauntered away from the table, hand-in-hand, quickly bundling into a tight cubicle.

The bathroom filled up as the two of you tried to be as silent as possible, scooping your pinky nails into the small bag.

"Hurry the fuck up!" Someone from outside the cubicle called, thudding her fists against the door.

"Get fucked." You called back, muttering this bitch under your breath to Hannah.

As the two of you packed your things back into your handbags, the cubicle door jolted half open, smacking Hannah in the shoulder.

"Are you fucking serious?" You shouted at the small brunette on the other side of the door, checking Hannah over for injury.

"You hit me, you bitch." She straightened herself up, rubbing her shoulder.

"I'll do worse if you don't fucking move." The brunette hissed in her face.

You screwed your face up and shoved her, making her stumble backwards into the sink. The other girls in the bathroom grabbed their bags and scurried to the exit, evidently not wanting to be caught in the crossfire.

"Apologise." You said, moving toward the girl who was now pulling herself up with the help of the basins on either side of her.

"Fuck you." She spat, saliva hitting your cheek before she lunged forward.

Your fist connected with her nose before she even had time to swing, and your right hand secured a tight grip on the back of her hair.

"I said, apologise to my friend."

"I'm sorry." She choked, pathetically. Her face shrivelled in fear and pain.

"Not so fuckin' big now, are you?" Hannah said, which was ironic, considering the girl who had bruised her was now quivering under your fist.

Content with her apology, you released your grip on her and re-entered the bar with Hannah trailing behind you. As you both rejoined your table, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

"Our friend said you just attacked her in the bathroom." Another petite girl looked up at you, one hand on her hip.

"She hit my friend, here. Was just trying to teach her some manners."

The entirety of your group was now turned to face you, exchanging harsh whispers of your name followed by just leave it.

"You broke her nose!" The girl shrilled. You looked over her shoulder to the girl doubled over, clutching her bloody nose with an ensemble of people crowding around her.

"No, I think it just looks like that."

You grinned at the rage growing behind her eyes, your smile unfaltering even as her fist collided with your cheek.

"Harder." You shouted, rolling your neck from side to side.

"What?!"

"Come on, hit me harder. I know you got it in you." She didn't take much convincing; her next punch knocked you backwards onto the table as everyone rushed to tear the two of you apart.

You stepped forward to finally let her have it when a pair of strong hands pulled you back.

"Get off!" You shouted, kicking against who you assumed to be security throwing you out. You just hoped they weren't calling the cops, too.

"C'mon, doll. You've had enough fun for one night." A familiar Southern drawl cooed, dragging you out into the warm night. "Now, that wasn't very ladylike of you, darlin'."

He let you go from his grip and you turned to face him. To your surprise, you were met with the smirk of the younger Miller brother.

"Tommy." You breathed, "I didn't see you in there."

"Well, lucky I noticed you ain't it." He grinned.

Spending so much time at the Miller's had you well acquainted with Sarah's uncle Tommy. He'd seen you in much worse states than this, and in turn, so had you.

"Didn't need you to swoop in and save me, Tommy."

"Wasn't saving you, sweetheart. Was savin' that poor girl." You both smiled at the tone of pride in his voice.

"You got somewhere to go, trouble? Don't think you should be hangin' round here for too long."

"Can't exactly go home bleeding from my face." You sighed, realising you probably hadn't thought this through. You missed Sarah.

Tommy fished around in his pocket for his phone before raising it to his ear.

"Hey, big brother." Your stomach flipped. "No, no- it's not me. Joel, listen." You could almost hear Joel on the other end of the phone, witnessing it in person more times than you could count. It's not even ten o'clock yet, don't tell me you're locked up already.

"Our favourite little troublemaker needs a place to crash tonight. I'd drive her over but I've already had my fair share of beers. Okay, great. I'll tell her."

Once he'd hung up, Tommy told you that Joel was on his way to come and pick you up. You could feel your heartbeat in your stomach. You'd never been alone with Joel for longer than a couple of hours at most, let alone spending the night at his while Sarah was out of town. Something inside of you twitched in excitement, a warm rush settling deep in your belly.

You told Tommy to go back into the bar, that Joel wouldn't be long and you'd walk down the street to meet him in case those girls came out looking for another round.

As you made your way underneath the streetlights toward the direction of the Miller's house, you pulled your compact from your bag and touched up your make-up, re-curling your lashes and dousing a thick layer of clear lipgloss onto your lips, not bothering to tend to any of the blood trickling down your skin. You spritzed yourself with perfume and ran a brush through your hair, smiling at the thought of Joel seeing you waiting on the curbside for him.

Right on cue, his truck pulled around the corner. You raised your hand and wiggled your fingers, a small smirk spreading across your cheeks.

You were grateful for your earlier decision to wear your knee-high boots with a denim mini-skirt, adding a little extra sway to your hips as you made your way to the passenger side of Joel's truck. You climbed in and turned to face him, flashing him a toothy grin, well aware of the blood staining your teeth.

"You're a damn mess, princess." Something deep inside of you came to life at his words, causing you to visibly clench your exposed thighs together. "S'there I was, thinking to myself how thankful I am for a peaceful night after workin' lates all week. When my phone rings, just as I'd sat down and made myself comfortable."

"Peace is overrated." You replied.

"So, what did you do this time? Steal another cop car? Break into a hotel pool? Make out with someone's husband?"

You played with the hem of your skirt as he spoke, blushing as he listed a few of your past activities he'd either bailed you out of or heard about from Sarah.

"I didn't start this one." You said, a slight whine in your voice. "Someone hit my friend, I was just looking out for her."

"Your friend can't fight her own battles?"

"You never have a problem when it's Sarah I'm throwing punches for."

He scoffed. "Now, you know I've always taught her to never start a fight but always to finish one. You on the other hand, I don't think nobody's taught you anythin' of the sort."

"And are you gonna be the one to do that, Mr Miller?" You mimicked his Texan accent, which was much thicker than yours, and parted your legs in your seat ever so slightly.

"If I didn't know you better, darlin', I'd think you were tryin' to get me in some sort of trouble."

He pulled into the driveway and switched the ignition off before jogging to your side of the truck and holding the door open for you, as well as offering you an outstretched hand.

"Always such a gentleman." You smiled, looking at him through your eyelashes as you stepped out, hand in his.

He exhaled out of his nose, shaking his head softly as he slammed the door shut behind you. His hand moved to the small of your back, guiding you into the house.

"Sarah's bed is all made up, I'm sure you know where her clothes are f'you wanna change into something more... comfortable." His eyes trailed down your figure, your clothes hugging all the right places.

"Do you not like my outfit?" You pouted, holding your hands behind your back and sticking your chest out, swaying from side to side.

"Course not, y'look real pretty. Just thought you'd wanna watch TV before going to sleep is all." Joel brought a hand to the back of his head, rubbing his neck nervously as his eyes shifted to the floor.

For such a handsome man, he was so damn insecure. Maybe it was the gentleman in him, thinking that it was wrong for someone his age to want someone the same age as his daughter. He knew you didn't think like that, Sarah had told him multiple stories about the older men you'd hooked with at the bar.

He'd even caught you making out with a kid from your school's dad a few years ago when he'd come to pick you and Sarah up from a party. Joel had seemingly known the man, and you remembered how he'd stalked out of his truck and toward you both, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and warning him that his wife wasn't going to like hearing about this.

So, you kicked off your boots and took yourself upstairs into Sarah's bedroom. Not bothering to close the blinds, you peeled your clothes off and looked at yourself in the full length mirror.

The warmth of your earlier drinks still coated your inhibitions. You knew you looked good in your black lace set, breasts sat perkily on your chest and your ass cheeks the perfect handfuls.

Fuck it. If he wasn't going to be ballsy enough to make the first move, maybe you should.

You kissed the tips of your fingers and pressed them against a framed photo of you and Sarah giggling at whatever was going on behind the camera.

"Sorry, Sarah." You whispered, before making your way down the stairs.

Joel heard you coming but was too preoccupied fighting with the TV remote control to turn around and face you just yet.

"If I can get this damn thing to work I think they're showin' Scarface at ten, I know you said you ain't seen it so thought we could watch it."

"Sounds good," you spoke, your voice more honeyed than usual. "Hey, Joel. Do you think this will be comfy enough?"

He whipped his head around quickly, ready to give you the same kind of answer he did whenever Sarah asked for his opinion in a changing room. It took a second for him to register what he was looking at, but when it clicked he dropped the remote to the floor and turned his whole body to face you.

"What the hell," his face turned bright red, unsure what to do with his hands. You could give him a few ideas.

"You not like it?" You asked, voice low as you walked slowly in his direction.

His trousers began to tighten around his hardening cock and you smiled, glad that you were indeed on the same page.

"Course I- I, what the hell are you playin' at?"

"Come on, Joel. I gotta make up for interrupting your peaceful night somehow."

You closed the gap between you both and placed a hand delicately on his chest, tracing circles with the tip of your long, manicured nails.

Joel swallowed hard.

"This ain't right." He said weakly, his eyes betraying his words as they devoured the sight of your body before him.

"Cut the shit, Joel. I know you want me, and I want you."

He didn't answer, but instead threw you over his shoulder and carried you up to his bedroom, placing a couple of firm smacks on your ass as you wriggle against his strong grip. Your stomach did backflips, exhilarated at the prospect of what was about to happen.

Upon entering his room, he threw you roughly onto the bed and worked at undoing his belt as you scrambled onto your back, resting on your elbows.

"Y'know what I really thought when Tommy called, tellin' me I needed to come pick you up?" He said, although it didn't sound much like a question. "I thought, this dumb slut needs some sense fucking into her."

You moaned at his words, basking in the side of him that you knew always existed.

“Thought t’myself, she needs teachin’ some fuckin' manners f’once.”

Joel stalked around the side of the bed and sat and patted his lap. Wordlessly, you shifted your weight next to him and dangled your legs over the side of the bed.

He brought his right hand in between your thighs, making you shiver at the feeling of his coarse fingers grazing your skin. He ran his fingers up and down the length of your thigh, each time stopping short of the hem of your skirt.

"This is what you want, ain't it sweetheart?" He spoke lowly, voice gravelly and as rough as his touch. Each night spent tangled and alone in your sheets, fingers grazing your soaked folds with his name on your lips felt redundant. Nothing could come close to the feel of his skin on yours.

Pulling you from your trance, he slapped your inner thigh hard when you didn't respond. "Need t'hear you say it."

"Yes,' you moan through gritted teeth, surprised you can even find your voice. "This is what I need."

Sick of his incessant teasing, you clamber onto his lap and hook your fingers around the back of his neck.

"But I think you need this just as much, Mr Miller. You must get so lonely in this house all by yourself. Sarah always tells me how you never have any lady friends hanging around."

You straddle his lap and grip his neck for support, softly grinding yourself on the hardness of his lap. He moves a hand from your waist to roughly seize your chin, tipping your face down to meet his gaze.

"Your old man must've forgot to teach you some manners, little girl." His low voice tore through your body.

Joel hoists your skirt up to your waist and flips you underneath him in one swift motion. His body looms over yours, fingers trailing a rough and jagged line down to where you need him most. He moved at an antagonising slow pace, but you can't bring yourself to give into his little game by begging for more.

"Here's what we're gonna do, darlin'. You're gonna be a good girl f'me and tell daddy exactly what happened tonight." The mouth on him.

The way your body writhed and squirmed at his words didn't go unnoticed. With no warning, he plunged two thick digits inside of you and held them deep in place, his face inches away from yours.

"N'if you stutter, or lie, or say anythin' I don't like for that matter, you'll be over my knee, red-raw," his fingers curl inside of you and you bite back a moan, desperate to not let him have the upper hand.

"No matter how much you cry those pretty little eyes out, I won't quit 'til you've learnt somethin'. Understood?"

You suck a breath in through your nose, a sharp sting reminding you of the open wound still decorating your face.

"Yes, sir."

part 2 coming soon

taglist: @cool-iguana @nostalxgic @chaotic-mystery @beardedjoel

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azrielslittleslut · 1 month

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"The Lost Queen"- Chapter 10

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: A magical incident causes Azriel to unexpectedly tumble through a portal into modern-day Earth. Confused and injured, he is discovered by a compassionate human woman with a hidden past. She takes care of him and helps him discover the complexities of the modern world, completely unaware of who she truly is. Meanwhile, Azriel struggles with his conflicting desires: his duty to the Night Court and his growing love for the woman who saved him.

Their journey unfolds amidst ancient prophecies and the looming threat in Prythian. As they uncover the truth about forces conspiring against them, they must confront their deepest fears and make choices that will change their lives and the world forever.

Warnings: language, slight angst, a little fluff, the smallest bit of sexual tension

Word Count: 5.7k

series masterlist

Enjoy!

Azriel lounged in the chair next to your bed in the River House, his body stiff from lack of movement, his wings drooping onto the floor behind him. Truly, it was his bed, but he didn’t let himself dwell on that fact for too long, for those thoughts led him into dangerous territory.

He couldn’t think about the fact that you, his mate, had been lying in his bed and going in and out of consciousness for the last four days. Even worse, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

After Elain had bathed you, you had fallen back into a deep sleep- a sleep so deep that Azriel had checked your pulse a few times to make sure you were still breathing. You had woken up once, at Madja’s insistence, to eat something. He had watched you eat every last bite, his body screaming at him to protect you, to help you, but there was nothing he could do. But as you ate, you had looked at him, your eyes empty and dark, and offered him some food.

He had denied it, of course, knowing you didn’t know the meaning of such a gesture. He hadn’t missed the look of hurt in your eyes at his denial, but he couldn’t bring himself to explain it all. Not now, at least.

So here Azriel was, in the same spot he had been in for days, watching you sleep. Madja had said that this sleep was good for you, that it was healing you and helping your body recover from the immense amount of power you had used up. Even though he was worried, he had to admit that the color had returned to your skin. There was a soft glow to your features that reminded him of a fire burning behind a pale screen.

He hadn’t noticed that before, back in your world, but you had been glamoured then. Now, he could see the difference in your features. Your face appeared to be more angular, your limbs longer and more toned. Your lovely hair had a healthy sheen to it, and your lips were fuller. A flare of heat spread through his body as he remembered what it felt like to have those soft lips pressed against his.

You were so beautiful, and Azriel’s heart stuttered at the thought of never talking to you or laughing with you again. He had seen the look of pure grief on your face when you had realized Celeste and Lou were gone, ripped away from your life in the worst way. He knew that if you woke up, no when you woke up, you would have to walk through that dark void, but you wouldn’t walk through it alone. He would be here for you, always.

Azriel sighed as he watched his shadows swirl around your sleeping form. They had been just as restless as he was, always swirling around your body, alerting him if your condition changed. “She will wake up,” he murmured to them, his voice quiet. “She has to wake up.”

Footsteps sounded down the hallway, heavy enough that Azriel’s body tensed, ready to shield you from any possible threat. His family had promised him that they meant no harm toward you, though they had many questions about the whole ordeal. He had answered the ones he could, his worried mind straining to remember all of the details.

Still, his body roared with the primal instinct to protect you at all costs.

Azriel’s body eased when he saw Cassian’s massive frame fill the doorway. Out of everyone, he had been the one who had been the calmest, and Az couldn’t thank his brother enough. Cassian had even offered to take shifts watching over you when Azriel could no longer force his eyes to stay open, his body screaming at him to rest.

“Still asleep?” Cass asked, his footsteps now lighter as he made his way toward Azriel. He leaned against the chair, his wings tucked in tight. “Madja said she should wake up any day now.”

Azriel hummed quietly. “I’m starting to wonder if Madja knows what the hell she is talking about.” He did nothing to hide the bitterness in his voice. He knew the healer was skilled, especially after what she had done for Cassian during the War. But you were different, possessing a power that nobody had ever seen.

What if Madja was wrong?

Cassian was silent for a few moments, his face like stone. “Rhys told me.” He paused for a few seconds as if he were contemplating on what to say next. “About her being your mate.”

Az ground his teeth, his shadows moving frantically around his body. “And what about it?” he growled.

Cass held up his hands, his siphons flaring slightly like red flame. “Easy now, Az. I just want you to know that I understand. Rhys does, too,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “We talked about it earlier. Neither of us could imagine what we would do if we were put in your position.”

“Then why does Rhys keep asking questions? Why does he keep insisting on going into her head to see the truth, even though Y/N doesn’t know the truth?” Azriel had stood his ground each time Rhys had walked into the bedroom, asking if he could use his powers to search your memories. Az knew that Rhys meant no harm in it; he was a High Lord who was trying to protect his people. But with the way Rhys’s magic had been affected lately… A shudder ran through Azriel’s body as he thought of what a slip-up on his brother’s part could do to your already traumatized mind.

Cassian looked down at him, his eyes shadowed. “You haven’t asked how bad things got here since you’ve been back.”

“I’ve been a little preoccupied,” was all Az said. He had been too worried about you to ask any questions. Besides, he didn’t think his mind or body could handle any more stress.

Azriel had asked how long he had been gone, and he had been informed that he had practically disappeared for five days. The only thing he had learned so far was that the timeline between the two worlds went at the same pace, which was a useless piece of information that didn’t help him at all.

“I know,” Cassian responded, moving to stand in front of Azriel, who had to fight back a snarl as he blocked you from his sight. “Which is why I came to tell you. You need to know, Az. The unstable magic is affecting Rhys. Badly. It’s getting to Feyre, too. Nesta is too afraid to use her powers, and Elain’s visions are worse than they’ve ever been.” Cassian’s eyes grew darker, and Az had the sense that he was holding something back.

“What aren’t you telling me, Cassian?” he asked, leaning forward in his chair.

Cassian bit his lip, his wings twitching slightly. “It’s not just affecting them. Last night, I went to do a quick inspection of the Illyrian legions.” He ran a hand through his dark hair, and Azriel saw that it was shaking. “Some of the Illyrians are unable to control their siphons. Whole camps have been reduced to rubble and ashes due to their magic lashing out, and the camp lords are at their wit’s end.”

Azriel felt as if ice had been poured all over his body. The Illyrians had magic, like the High Fae, but it had always been different. It was used and channeled in different ways, although now that he thought about it, it all came from the same source.

The chill Azriel felt didn’t only have to do with the unstable magic- he could not give less of a fuck about the Illyrians. He hated those people, the ones who had tortured him and brutalized his mother. He would never forgive them for what they had done, and the thought of them destroying their own camps made him want to laugh.

Good riddance, Azriel wanted to say, but the grim look on Cassian’s face made him think better of it. Besides, even though he hated it, he was an Illyrian, just like Cassian, and if the others’ magic had been affected…

“What about your siphons?” Az asked, his voice low and dark. “Have you been affected?”

Cassian shook his head. “Other than being weaker than usual, nothing odd has happened. But I’m assuming it’s only a matter of time.”

The words hung in the air, and the room fell back into silence. Cassian stepped aside, once again allowing Azriel to look at your sleeping form on the bed. You looked so peaceful, completely oblivious to everything that was going on in the world.

Azriel found himself full of envy at the sight.

“It makes sense now,” Azriel said finally, his voice hushed. “When we came through the portal, it was like my magic had been drained. I thought it was due to traveling between worlds, but now…” He trailed off, his eyes on his shadows. They hadn’t been acting particularly strange, other than their obsession with you.

Still, Azriel decided it would be best to keep an eye on them. He didn’t want to think about what it would be like to have a shadowsinger lose control of his own shadows.

Cassian laid a broad hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, brother,” he said, his usual optimistic tone returning to his voice. “We will figure this out. Gwyn has been searching through the ancient scrolls, and she thinks she might be on the edge of a breakthrough.”

A soft smile graced Azriel’s lips. Gwyn was stubborn, and if anyone could figure out this whole mess, it was her. “I’m glad to hear that.” He paused for a moment as his mind worked. “I will talk to my spies. See if they can find out anything.” In the chaos of the last few days, he hadn’t even bothered to reach out to his spies in the courts.

He didn’t know if any of them were aware he was alive, or if any of them were dead.

“Good idea,” Cassian murmured, taking a deep breath that reminded Azriel of the controlled breathing techniques his brother used before charging into battle. “So… are you going to tell her?” he asked, his voice carrying a smile that Azriel could almost see through the tone alone.

Azriel looked at you, his mind racing. He had thought of all the ways to tell you about the bond, and he had been unable to come up with anything good enough. He was also afraid of the timing. You have just gone through a massive physical and emotional shock, and he worried that the thought of being soul-bound to someone, being bound to him, would be too much.

“Eventually,” was all Azriel said in response.

Cassian hummed quietly as he made for the door. “I wouldn’t keep it from her for too long,” he said with a laugh. “Rhys had the same idea, and you saw how that turned out.”

Azriel sighed as he watched Cassian leave the bedroom. So many decisions to make, so many questions to ask. His head was pounding under the weight of it all, so he leaned back in the chair, his eyes once again locked onto you as you slept.

****

You opened your eyes, your lids heavy with sleep. The bedroom was filled with a dim light, the early morning sun softening all of the harsh edges. You blinked against that light, running your tongue over your dry lips.

Thankfully, you didn’t have any more strange dreams. You had only been met with a peaceful and serene darkness as you slept, your body and mind floating into an endless abyss. You wanted to go back there, not ready to face everything that had happened.

But you had never been one to run away when things got hard. You had known struggles, but you had always risen above them. You didn’t know exactly how to rise above this overwhelming sense of grief and pain, but you knew you had to try.

It was the only way you were going to survive.

Slowly, you moved your arms, pressing your palms firmly against the mattress. When you were not met with any pain or soreness, you pushed yourself up, your body moving with surprising ease. You looked around the room, gasping softly as your senses were overwhelmed with… everything.

Everything around you seemed sharper and brighter as if you had been looking through a fuzzy glass window your entire life. You could hear children laughing outside, the murmur of conversations in the distance. Your nose was overwhelmed with a variety of scents- lavender, jasmine, citrus- and your eyes rolled back as you smelled the delicious aroma of food cooking somewhere.

You raised your arms to look at your hands. They might as well have been a stranger’s hands. Your fingers were longer, your skin perfect and without any spots or blemishes. You looked at your palm, eyes searching for that scar you had gotten when you had fallen off a skateboard as a child. You couldn’t stop the ragged gasp that left your lips.

The scar was gone, replaced by a layer of smooth skin that seemed to glow from within.

You scrambled off the bed, your longer legs getting twisted in the thick blankets. You hit the ground before you could catch yourself, not knowing how to navigate using this foreign body. Your thin nightgown was wound tightly around your legs, and for a moment, you wanted to scream. You felt trapped, totally unable to move, and you couldn’t breathe-

Strong and gentle hands gripped you by the waist, hoisting you back up to your feet. Shadows surrounded your body, as if they were attempting to soothe your discomfort and fear. You raised your face, your eyes squinting against the light.

Azriel’s face was mere inches from yours, his hazel eyes full of concern. This close, you could see a light dusting of freckles on his nose, and you had to fight the urge to trace them with your fingers. “Azzy,” you whispered, your voice foreign to your ears. It sounded different, higher in pitch and tone.

He released a breath, his strong arms wrapping around you, holding you close. He buried his face in your hair as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He was trembling slightly, his wings fluttering behind him. “Fyrvor,” he breathed, his voice full of wonder. “You came back to me.”

You closed your eyes, breathing in his scent of night-chilled mist and cedar. You felt your body ease slightly in his embrace. “Where else would I go?” You spoke in a hushed tone, afraid that this was just another strange dream.

But Azriel was very much real, especially in the way his scarred hands moved up your body, his fingers grazing your back and shoulders, stopping once they got to your face. His palms were warm against your skin as he pulled your face up to his. “You’ve been out for days. I was so worried.”

“Do you know how to do anything but worry?” you asked, forcing a small smile to form on your lips, but you knew it didn’t meet your eyes.

Azriel smiled back, though. “I always worry about you. You’re all I think about.” You watched as his eyes moved to your lips, his gaze darkening. The memory of those lips crushed against yours at the ball washed over you, and you felt heat prickle your skin. “How are you feeling?”

Despite your growing desire for him, you took a step back, knowing that you would do something you would regret if you stayed too close. “I feel… strange,” you admitted, once again raising your hands to look at them. “I look strange."

"Do you remember what Madja said?" Azriel asked in a soft voice. “About you not being human?”

You were unable to say anything in response to that, so you only nodded.

Azriel walked over to a dresser in the corner of the bedroom, and you took his momentary distraction to survey the room. You saw the door that led to the bathroom, though your memory of it was murky and dark. The room had a massive four-poster bed, and the twisted bedding atop it was black, paired with silky dark blue sheets. The walls were plain, with no decorations or pictures, and they were painted in a light shade of gray. Though the room was large, it was sparsely furnished, with only a few chairs, a nightstand, and a dresser. There was a fireplace along the far wall, its embers burning low.

The style of the bedroom was not feminine, and you suddenly wondered whose bed you had been sleeping in for the past few days. “Where am I?” you asked Azriel, who had grabbed something from the dresser- a small mirror, you realized. “I remember you saying this is the Night Court, but… where exactly?”

A small blush crept up Azriel’s neck as he looked around the room. “This is the River House,” he explained. “It’s the home of Rhys and his mate, Feyre. This is my bedroom.”

You now understood the calming scent that had enveloped you during the short time you had been awake. It was his scent. You had bathed in his bathtub, and you had been sleeping in his bed. Your cheeks started to warm at the realization, so you hastily asked, “Why did you bring me here?”

He tilted his head to the side, and you realized you had asked a loaded question, but you hoped he would ignore it. “If you’re asking why I brought you back to Prythian, it’s because I watched in horror as your entire body went up in flames before my eyes, and I didn’t know if you would live or die.”

Guess he won’t ignore it then, you thought to yourself.

“And I brought you to the River House because I felt you would be more comfortable here than the House of Wind,” he finished, his hazel eyes shadowed. You had the sense that he was leaving out something but, unlike him, you would ignore it. “Does that answer your question?”

“Mostly,” you said with a shrug. “But I assure you, I have a lot more.”

What the hell is a mate? What is a House of Wind? What is wrong with me?

“I know.” Azriel offered the mirror to you, and you silently took it from him. It was small, encased in plain silver, much like the ones back home. Your brows furrowed in disappointment as you looked at it- you had expected something more… magical, especially in a world full of magic. “First, I think you should take a look at yourself. Then I will answer any questions you have.”

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your mouth falling open in shock at the woman in the reflection. It was undeniably you, yet subtly transformed. Your face retained its familiar contours, but there was a newfound sharpness- a slight sculpting of your cheekbones and a more defined jawline. Your lips appeared fuller, and your hair was glossier than before.

As you leaned closer, a small detail caught your attention. Your eyes were still the same color, but deep in the depths, you could see a tiny flame flickering, like embers catching fire.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, staggering back from the mirror. It slipped from your grip and shattered onto the floor at your bare feet. “What am I?”

Azriel’s boots crunched on the glass as he caught you in his arms. “You are Y/N,” he murmured, his eyes searching your face. “You are changed, but you are still my Y/N.”

Your hands clutched at his leather clothing, holding onto him like a lifeline. “Azriel. There’s fucking flames in my eyes!” You sounded hysteric, but given the circumstances, you didn’t care.

Azriel chuckled softly, and you stared at him, wondering how he could remain so calm right now. “I find it rather attractive,” he said plainly.

“Can you be serious? Just for once, can you be serious?” you screamed at him, cementing your words with a hard slap onto his bicep.

Azriel laughed harder this time. “Just a few moments ago, you were wondering if I do anything but worry,” he said through his laughter. “Now you’re yelling at me for being too serious?”

Perhaps it was your body’s reaction from the shock of everything that had happened, but you found yourself laughing too. You smiled up at Azriel, your voice breathless as you murmured, “You’re insufferable, Azzy.”

He ran a thumb gently over your cheek, his calluses running across your skin. “There’s those beautiful dimples,” he whispered as he laid his forehead against yours.

You were suddenly aware of how close he was, his body hard and hot against yours. His shadows swarmed around you as you moved your hands up his arms, lacing them behind his neck. You could feel his warm breath ghosting your cheek as you tilted your face up to his, your eyes searching his for any sign of disgust or hatred.

There was only awe, and something else, something stronger and more passionate. His scent washed over you, muskier and more potent than before. A fire that had nothing to do with the burning ember living inside of your chest spread across your body, and you felt this strange, primal urge to claim him.

“Azriel,” you whispered as you stood on your tiptoes, raising yourself so your lips ghosted across his. Azriel’s hands gripped your waist, his skin burning through your thin nightgown. He lifted you up as he moved his head down, his lips so close to yours that you could taste him-

“She wakes,” a female voice drawled from the doorway, full of amusement. “I was starting to question my knowledge of healing.”

You and Azriel sprang apart, both of you breathless as if you had been running. He gently set you down on the floor, and with a firm squeeze on your hips, he stepped away. He turned and faced the woman, his features smooth, all sign of the earlier passion wiped away.

“Madja,” he greeted politely. “I didn’t tell Rhys she had woken up yet.” You didn’t miss the slight tightening of his face, and it was with pure satisfaction that you realized he was upset at being interrupted.

Madja chucked softly. “I heard you two talking,” she stated as she walked into the room. “I figured I should go ahead and do my check-up.” She looked… old, her face filled with wrinkles, but her eyes were clear. She had pointed ears, dark skin, and wind-blown hair.

Azriel nodded once. “Of course.” He glanced over to you, his eyes wary. “Would… would you like me to stay? If not, I can-“

“Stay. Please,” you said, not caring that you cut him off. The thought of him leaving you made your chest tighten in an almost painful way.

He smiled as he took a seat in the chair next to the bed. His shadows rested along his shoulders and wings, seeming content to sit and watch. He looked at Madja, his eyes gleaming. “Pretend I’m not here.”

Madja rolled her eyes. “Illyrians,” she grumbled as she laid a bag down on the bed. “Such busybodies.”

You bit your lip, struggling to stifle a laugh as you peered into the bag, curious about whether any of the healer’s tools would look familiar. She began pulling out various bottles, each filled with liquids that sparkled and swirled. One was a vibrant green, another was an inky black. You thought you caught a glimpse of a needle and some stitches, but other than that, everything was foreign.

“What are those for?” you asked quietly as you looked at the bottles, your stomach rolling at the thought of having to drink one of them.

Madja raised the one with the black liquid. “This one can reverse the effects of a magical spell, such as being turned into a toad or a dragon.” She pointed at the green one that was still lying on the bed. “That one… Well, it’s quite nasty. It’s for those who are afflicted with ‘Mermaid’s Moan.’ If you get too cozy with sea folk and can’t stop singing sea shanties, this will clear it right up- though I’ve heard it burns like hell and tastes like acid.”

You blinked at her, your mouth open in horror. “Please tell me you’re joking,” you shrieked. “I haven’t been around any spells, and I definitely haven’t been… cozy with sea people!”

Madja lowered the bottle, her face warm and gentle. She laid a hand on your arm. “I’m just joking. I find it makes my patients feel more at ease.” She gestured to the bottles again. “These are sleep and healing potions. Nothing harmless, I can assure you.”

You released a breath and nodded. You had done the same thing many times with your own patients, though your jokes hadn’t been focused on magical potions. You glanced over to Azriel, only to find his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. He was enjoying this.

You glared at him, and he raised his hands in surrender. What? he mouthed to you, his face the perfect picture of innocence.

You smiled sweetly at him as you flipped him off.

“Now,” Madja said, pulling your attention away from the smug shadowsinger, “how are you feeling?”

You paused for a moment, truly letting yourself feel your body and mind. “I feel fine,” you admitted quietly. “As fine as I can be anyway, considering what happened a few days ago.” You assumed Azriel had told Madja everything, and you didn’t feel like explaining it all again.

The healer nodded as she placed a hand on your chin, her dark eyes searching your face. She closed her eyes, and your body was overwhelmed with a strange sweet feeling. It took all of your strength to remain standing as an overwhelming calm washed over your body.

After a few moments, Madja pulled her hand away, and the serene feeling left with it. You swallowed as your mouth was left with a strange, metallic taste, like metal. “Was that… magic?”

“Yes. I was checking your body for any sign of injury or ailments,” she explained. She turned her head to Azriel, her eyes soft as she said, “She is fine. It seems her magic is still recuperating, but other than that, I give her a clean bill of health.”

Azriel let out a breath, and his shadows seemed to relax as well. As much as shadows could relax. “Thank the Mother,” he mumbled to himself, but your new and improved hearing allowed you to hear him clearly. “Thank you, Madja. For everything.”

Madja only smiled as she started to gather the bottles, placing them carefully back into the bag. “Wait,” you said, placing a hand on her arm. “What am I? You said I wasn’t human, and I can’t think of any other options here.” You shook your head in disbelief, your eyes searching the woman’s face. “You said I have magic, and you’re just going to leave without giving me an explanation?”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Azriel lean forward in his chair, his shadows once again swirling restlessly around him. But you kept your eyes locked onto Madja, and you watched as her face grew grim, her eyes shadowed. “I don’t know what you are,” she admitted, her voice dropping. “You aren’t human, but you are unlike any of our kind here in Prythian. There is something… familiar about you, but I can’t place it what it could be. Your magic is strong and powerful, something old and ancient, and a kind that I’ve never faced in my centuries of living. I think you could even rival the High Lords with the amount of power you have.”

You heard Azriel suck in a ragged breath, but you kept your eyes on Madja, your grip like iron on her arm. “I don’t even know what that means,” you whispered, your voice thick with tears. No, don’t cry. Don’t let her see how weak you are.

Madja placed her hand on your arm, her palm warm and soft. “I’m sorry I cannot give you a better explanation, my dear,” she murmured. “But don’t fret. I’m not giving up on searching for answers. I just don’t have any right now.” She glanced over to Azriel, her eyes filled with something like exasperation. “Besides, I think that Illyrian of yours is just as curious as I am. If anyone can figure it out, it’s the spymaster.”

Spymaster. Azriel was a fucking spymaster?

Your mind spun with the amount of new information being thrown at you, and you staggered back. You were held steady by a pair of scarred hands, and you sighed as you leaned into Azriel’s body.

How does he move so fast?

“Thank you, Madja,” he said, his deep voice clipped. “We will call for you if anything changes.”

Madja smiled politely, and with a bow of her head, hurried from the room.

You looked up at Azriel. “Spymaster, huh?” you teased. The title fit him. He was so quiet and broody, and you imagined those shadows, whatever the hell they were, would be quite good at helping with stealth.

Azriel rolled his eyes. “Non-human but unlike any of our kind here, huh?” he quipped back with a smile.

“Smartass.”

“I’m your smartass, though.” His tone was warm- genuine, even.

You leaned your head back onto his chest, your eyes staring at nothing. “I still have so many questions, Azzy,” you murmured. “None of this makes sense.”

Azriel wrapped his arms around your front, his forearms resting politely on your belly. “I know.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “We will figure all of this out. Together. But first,” he said, his voice darkening slightly, “we need to do something that is far more frightening.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you tried to think of what could be more frightening than figuring out the truth of who you are. “And what’s that?” you asked, your voice tinged with worry.

Azriel’s arms tightened around your body as his shadows trailed down your arms, as if they were trying to comfort you in preparation for whatever he was going to say. He took a deep breath, his voice vibrating in his chest as he said, “It’s breakfast time, and my family has been dying to meet you.”

****

“You had one fucking job, Mathias,” the female sneered, her features twisted in disgust. “And you failed. Horribly.”

Mathias cowered on the floor, his body tense, ready for whatever punishment was sure to be given to him. His queen was notorious for her punishments, especially the ones given to those who had failed her.

“Please, my queen,” he pleaded, his face pressed down to the floor. Through the reflection of the dark marble he could see his pale face. The piercings he had put back into his nose and ears gleamed in the dim light of the ramshackle throne room. “I was unprepared, that’s all. I didn’t expect-“

“Didn’t expect what?” The queen’s voice was low, full of sinister intent. “Go ahead and say it, you worthless bastard. Say that you weren’t prepared for the amount of power she has.”

Mathias trembled at her words. His queen was powerful, the most powerful person he had ever met. But that woman had unleashed an amount of power that had rattled his bones and burned his veins. He had barely had enough mind left to open a portal back to Prythian during the whole ordeal.

And that fucking shadowsinger- that good-for-nothing Illyrian brute. Mathias was already dreaming of the ways he would make him suffer when he got his hands on the bastard. He couldn’t wait to wipe that smug smile off his face.

These common Illyrians, always thinking they are better than everyone else. Little did they know-

“Perhaps I should get rid of you,” his queen continued, pulling his thoughts back to the present. Her heels clicked on the dark marble floor as she paced around him. “There are so many others who have sworn fealty to me. I know they would kill for the chance to help me with this particular quest.”

Mathias dared to raise his head, even though he hadn’t been ordered to. “Please. No. Let me finish this,” he pleaded, his voice full of desperation. “I can do this, your grace.”

The queen looked at him, and he was thrown back as a wave of her dark power hit his body, his head slamming onto the floor. He grunted as the taste of it filled his mouth- decay and rot, a power made to destroy and take. “Did you see where they went? Can you even tell me how to get to her?”

Mathias smiled up at the ceiling. “Yes. They are in Velaris. When she opened the portal, I knew it would take her to the Whispering Woods. If they went there, don’t you think Azriel would have called for Rhysand at once?”

The queen tilted her head to the side, clearly contemplating his words. “Fine. Go get her.” She snapped her fingers, and a dark, obsidian collar appeared in her hands. She threw the collar at him, and his fingers burned as he touched the cold metal. “Take that. You should be prepared this time.”

Mathias nodded, his eyes locked onto the collar. Even in his hands, the darkness of the metal seemed to pull his magic from his body. He had to fight the urge to throw it on the ground, his magic recoiling in the presence of such darkness.

“Go!” the queen ordered, her voice thundering through the room. “Get up!”

Mathias scrambled to his feet, his legs wobbling slightly. He bowed low at the waist. “Thank you for trusting me, your grace,” he said with a strained voice. That damned collar was making it hard to think straight. He slowly stood and turned for the door, but her voice stopped him in his tracks.

“This is your last chance, Mathias,” she said, her voice like darkness given form. “If you care at all about your life, I suggest you don’t fail this time.”

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