*+:. A Scent Of Desire .:+*

*+:｡.｡ A Scent of Desire ｡.｡:+*

Pairing: Academy! Coriolanus Snow x Reader

Notes: only one bed trope, childhood friends to lovers, sfw

Summary: You come from a very wealthy family in the Capitol, but despite this, you and Coriolanus grew up with an impossibly close relationship. However, as soon as you both joined the Academy and you naturally grouped with the other wealthy academy students, Coriolanus kept such interactions at a minimum and therefore spoke with you less and less. Years after you regrettably drift apart, his small family of three find themselves evicted from their penthouse. Your family graciously takes his in, but there’s only one problem: there are only two spare rooms, and Coriolanus insists on leaving those for his Grandma’am and his cousin. So of course, you offer your room to him, and that leads to something you’ve both been dreaming about since you were young.

Word Count: 1.9k

A.N: I feel like this was a little bit longer than I intended for it to be but I hope you all enjoy it anyway 😭💕

Request: from @javierpenasredshirt

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When your childhood friend Tigris Snow approached you one day after years of only communicating through letters, the desperation in her face worried you to your bones. Telling you with evident humiliation that she’d been evicted from her penthouse not too far from your own, you’d instantly offered respite to which she responded deeply graciously. Her cousin, however, was much more resistant. He’d tried as hard as he could to find another place to stay, but after they all came to the same end, he relented. Which is why he was finally sitting in your living room with his family and yours after eating the first full meal he’d had in a while.

“Darling, with Tigris and her Grandmother in the spare rooms, you’ll let Coriolanus stay in yours tonight, won’t you?” your mother arranges, sending an expectant look your way.

“Yes, of course. I can stay in the front room. I’ve got a lot of work to do anyhow, so I won’t be sleeping much either way.” you reply, Coriolanus instantly straightening his back in defiance.

“I couldn’t possibly. I’ll stay in the front room, it’s no bother at all,”

“I’ll have a maid set up one of the couches and you two can decide between yourselves who’s to take what, the rest of us should like to retire to our own rooms i should think,” your father says. He’d always had a knack for avoiding difficult decisions, and you didn’t know how intentional that happened to be.

So, after everyone had gone to rest, you and Coriolanus were alone in the kitchen so you could get yourselves a glass of water.

“You can stay in your room, I couldn’t possibly invade your privacy more than I already have.”

“I’d love to disagree with you but I highly doubt you’ve gotten any less stubborn over the years, Coryo.” you laugh, bringing the cool glass to your lips. In doing this, you missed the way his cheeks subtly flushed at your use of his nickname, having not heard it from you in much longer than he’d prefer.

“Of course not,” he chuckles, clearing his throat in an attempt to rid himself of any bashfulness you caused him, “I may have gotten more stubborn in fact.”

Barely more than an hour later, you couldn’t force yourself to concentrate on the Communications work in front of you. It was a class Coryo excelled in ( along with the rest ) so you quietly made your way from your room and back downstairs to ask for his help. As soon as you caught a glimpse of him from over the bannister, your breath caught in your throat the same way it always did when you saw him. You’d had feelings for him since before you’d even learned what love was, and you regretted nothing more than how you allowed your relationship to weaken the way it had. Even though you knew he didn’t have feelings for you, just talking to him was often enough to satiate your need for his closeness.

“Coryo?” you quietly called out his name as you approached him. He was looking upon the burning fire in the hearth before him, the light from the flames reflecting on the side of his face as he turned to face you sparking a pink blush upon your cheeks; you thanked the stars it was too dark for him to see. However, you soon found yourself regretting not putting a sweater over your pyjamas, as you were only going to sleep in a shirt slightly too big for you that covered the small shorts you wore underneath.

“Do you think you could help me with the homework for Communications? I can’t seem to grasp it,” you politely ask, trying your hardest to fight the nervousness biting at your words. He was still in his academy rouge, telling you that he’d never intended on trying to sleep. He had, however, discarded the skirt and the blazer leaving him only in his red dress pants and pale blue button-up, the sleeves of which he’d rolled up to expose his forearms.

“Of course. Do you have it with you?” he asks, and you curse yourself for not bringing it. It appeared as though you were too eager to have an excuse to talk to him to collect your bearings.

“No, I’ve left it in my room, I’ll just go and grab it-”

“We could just do it in your room if you’d like. It requires a few textbooks, and they’re terribly heavy to have to haul around,” he suggests, standing up and gesturing towards the staircase when you failed to give a response.

Truthfully, you knew if you spoke it’d come out a nervous mess, so all you did was nod and led the way back up to your bedroom. He’d been this way countless times in your youth, but this time was completely different. You’d both grown up since the last time, and the thought of him seeing such a vulnerable space made you much more nervous than you thought was rational.

You both settled onto the foot of your bed where there were multiple open textbooks, a collection of pens and a notebook open to a page full of crossed and scribbled out sentences. He began right away to help you with the work, and somehow - even with your nervousness - he managed to explain it in a way that had you questioning how you were ever confused.

After you’d finished and Coryo had helped you put everything away, he began to make his way towards the door and say goodnight, but you stopped him.

“You can stay in here, with me, if you’d like. I certainly don’t mind. The bed’s big enough for the both of us,” you offer, instantly internally cringing at how desperate you sounded. He stays silent for a second and regret begins to seep into your chest until he releases the door handle and a small smile makes its way onto his pink lips.

“If you certainly don’t mind, then neither do I.” he teases, stepping away from the door towards your much smaller, now embarrassed figure. “I’ll have to take off my clothes though. I didn’t bring anything to sleep in,” Were you going crazy from the blood rushing to your cheeks or did Coryo’s voice almost sound seductive at the end?

“Whatever is most comfortable. I’ll be in the bathroom to give you some privacy,” you calculatedly respond with a polite smile, determined not to embarrass yourself any further.

After you were sure he was in your bed, you re-entered your now darkened bedroom to find Coriolanus with your comforter only pulled up to his stomach, revealing his pale, toned chest, moonlight filtering through your window across his skin. With a difficult swallow, you wordlessly join him right at the edge, despite the valley of space between you.

“Goodnight, Coryo.” you manage to utter, your parents raising you to be polite overpowering your intense nerves.

“Goodnight,” he replies, his voice now deepened with fatigue.

A few minutes pass in silence and the only thing you can concentrate on is Coryo’s scent of something so inviting, a cologne made of desire or the like. However, your pining is interrupted by his voice softly breaking through the darkness.

“Thank you. I appreciate what you’ve done for me,” he says, and you smile at his admittance of gratitude.

“It’s no problem, Coryo. I’d never want to leave you without a place to sleep.” you respond quietly, turning over to face him despite the fact that you could see hardly anything of his face.

“I don’t just mean tonight. You’ve never told anyone at the Academy about my… situation, and you’ve been genuine when no-one else in that place has. That’s what I’m thanking you for,” his further admittance stuns you to silence, as it was never anything you’d ever even thought about doing. In your mind, your keeping of his secret was less of a respectable act and more of just unspoken, common decency. You acknowledged his gratitude anyway.

“Can I ask why?”

“Why what?”

“Why you’ve always been so… nice. You’re not as nice to anyone at the Academy as you are to me.” he was right. You didn’t respect any of your classmates so while you’d be friendly to their faces, you detailed your disdain for them in your letters to Tigris. He must’ve read some of them. Or perhaps he’d just noticed the subtle way your expression would sour as soon as you exited a conversation with any of your classmates. Or how it never soured after you’d spoken to him.

“I respect you more than I respect them, Coryo. That’s all there is to it.” you simply reply.

“That’s all there is to it? Nothing more?” he almost sounds disappointed, but you just agree, horrified at the thought of accidentally revealing your feelings for him. But apparently the fact that neither of you could clearly see each other inspired a sort of confidence in the blond man, as the next thing he said made your heart stop.

“If it were down to my interpretation, I would’ve guessed you had feelings for me.”

Silence enveloped the room the way it had before while you desperately searched for a response to disagree with him. How humiliating it would be for him to know and to have to let you know he didn’t feel the same.

“Well, thankfully it isn’t down to your interpretation then.” you shakily respond, turning onto your back to stare at the ceiling.

“What a shame. If you did have feelings for me then I’d be able to tell you I returned them. But I suppose all of that’s irrelevant, as you don’t,” he replies, and you can hear the smugness dripping from his lips teasingly as your cheeks flush impossibly bright and your mind races with as many thoughts as you could possibly handle.

Seconds pass in silence, and you don’t move until you feel his weight shift next to you and the chill of his hand brush against your shoulder. It travels up past the sensitive skin of your neck until it lands on your jaw and after finding what he was looking for, he turns you gently to face him in the darkness. As your eyes meet, the moonlight illuminates the side of his profile in such a way that you can’t bring yourself to look away from the sight in front of you. His lips close around yours and your hand reaches to tangle in his blond curls that you’ve loved since your first time seeing them. He tastes of something sweet, something you’ve craved for so long.

He pulls away much too quickly for your preference before shakily exhaling.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long,” he admits in such a low whisper that you could’ve easily missed it.

“Me too, Coryo,” you reply, relief blooming in your chest at the realisation that you no longer have to conceal your feelings for him. “How were you so sure I liked you?”

“You weren’t exactly brilliant at hiding it,” he jokes, laughing at your indignant scoff, before continuing “I’m kidding. I heard Arachne tease you about it after History. And Tigris left one of your letters out where you mentioned it.” You don’t hesitate to retract your hand at his admission and he laughs again before placing another small kiss on your lips.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I think it’s cute how much you think about me while you’re sitting in class.”

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💜 starshine pt. VI 💜

Rhys x Reader

part I part II part III part IV part V part VI

summary: when after more than a century, things finally begin falling into place.

notes: I can't believe how long this took - both writing this next part and the actual things happening *facepalms*. and these twoooo 😭💕. I can't. they make me feel so mushy and happy and all giddy and warm. and all of you, loving this so much, make me feel even more mushy and happy and giddy, so thank you so much for staying with me on this!! if everything goes to plan, this is actually the second to last chapter, and we are, finally, getting somewhere ;)

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With a sharp inhale, my eyes snapped open, and my breath staggered.

The sheets were clinging to my skin, damp with cold sweat, my heart pounding painfully against my ribs as blood rushed through my ears and my gaze darted over a high, dark ceiling and for a second, panic and a dull pain rose in my chest, my body frozen still.

Then I realised that a weight was resting over my stomach and a scent was flooding my senses, so achingly familiar, my muscles melted.

Quickly, I turned my head, and my lungs squeezed.

In the silvery light of the moon shining through the windows, I could see Rhys' dark shape stretched out on the mattress next to me, the dips and planes of his muscular back rising and falling slowly with his even breaths. His head was resting on the pillow next to me, his face turned my way, brows smoothed over and eyes closed, his dark hair unruly and tousled, swirls of darkness stretching over his broad shoulders and down the arm that was loosely resting over my waist, his skin radiating warmth through my thin nightgown.

My heart soared before free falling, and I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, fighting against the echoes of screams and laughter in my ears, the feeling of cruel darkness and bound magic and hands slipping away into nothingness.

Suddenly, the air felt too stiffled, too stale, too reminiscent of the nightmare that had been reality.

Hastily, I slid out from under Rhys' arm, pushing the covers to the side and slipping off the mattress, my feet quick on the cool floorboards as I darted over to the huge windows soundlessly, tearing at them until they were open and a soft, cool breeze brushed over my skin.

My heart squeezed tightly, and I breathed in, quick and deep, the scent of sweet petals and night leaving an ache growing in my chest as my gaze darted over the garden below that was bathed in starlight, flowers glowing and faeries floating over the water reflecting the galaxies above.

My fingers curled around the window handle before loosening, and something in my chest quivered when I let my forehead sink against the cool wooden frame and squeezed my eyes shut.

I could still feel the heavyness on my chest, the ache pulsing under my ribs as images flashed before my eyes, and something closed around my throat.

Sliding my hand off the window, I looked over my shoulder towards the bed, and the ache in my chest soared at the dark shape still motionless on the mattress, breathing evenly.

Fighting against the sudden pressure in my throat, I moved, quickly slipping past the bed and out of the room.

The house was silent as I hastened soundlessly down the stairs, my long sleek nightgown swishing around my ankles as I slipped past the table and opened one of the big windows leading out onto the terrace. The gentle night breeze whispered over my bare arms and shoulders, and I squeezed out into the night, the stone of the terrace cold under my feet as I moved down the steps before it was replaced by cool, soft grass.

Faeries were swishing through the glowing flowers, darting towards me and showering me in golden dust, tittering softly and curiously before whizzing away again.

Slowly, my steps calmed, and I closed my eyes, breathing in the fresh air, feeling flowers and high grass brush my hands, warmth slowly spreading through me that seemed to stem from the earth itself.

Next to the pond that reflected the galaxies twinkling over the mountains, I let myself plop down into the soft grass, stretching out and staring up into the sky. My palms pressed against the earth, and I closed my eyes, focusing on the soft hum of energy that slowly travelled through me, golden light lazily flooding through my veines until my chest squeezed and my breath shuddered.

My heart tipped over; I opened my eyes, and movement at the edge of my field of vision made me turn my head.

Something rose and pulsed gently under my ribs when I saw the dark figure standing on the terrace.

Even from a distance, I caught the moment violet eyes clocked me by the pond, bare shoulders sinking a little, swishes of darkness whispering into nothingness as Rhys' gaze pierced mine. Then he moved, beginning to slowly walk down the steps.

Resting my cheek on the grass, I watched as he came towards me, movements smooth and elegant, his tousled hair black like ink in the night, violet eyes reflecting the silver and purple above. His pants were sitting low on his hips, and something twisted in my stomach at the sight of shifting muscles disappearing into black fabric.

The silk of his pants swished against my skin when Rhys crouched down and let himself plop down onto the ground next to me. Then his shoulder brushed against mine and he stretched out on the grass, one of his hands sliding up to rest on his stomach. His body dwarfed mine even shoulder to shoulder, my feet barely level with his shins, and I stared at the side of his face as his gaze dragged slowly over the night sky above, something dipping and swerving, squeezing and fluttering in my chest as my eyes flickered over his nose and lips, the sharp line of his jaw and cheekbones, and suddenly, my breath hitched in my throat.

“What happened?”

Rhys' quiet voice, deep and a little raspy with sleep, tore me out of the pulsing feeling under my ribs, and when I blinked, he turned his head to look at me.

I tried to swallow against the flutter in my throat, the ache in my chest that staring at him had awakened. Rhys seemed to misinterpret my silence, one corner of his lips tipping up gently as his gaze slowly moved over my face.

“As far as I know, you don't usually wake up in the middle of the night to lay around on the cold ground.” There was a soft twinkle in his eyes, but it couldn't hide the barely there crease between his brows, and something dipped in my chest when my shoulder brushed his and I felt a clenching sensation in my chest that wasn´t mine.

I blinked again, and the soft ache under my ribs pulsed.

“I had a dream.”

Rhys' gaze moved over my face. Then his quiet voice vibrated through me, gentle and even.

“What kind of dream?”

Something closed around my throat like an iron fist, and I stared at him, feeling a weight settle on my chest and pressure rise in my throat and eyes.

“The mountain,”, I whispered.

Rhys blinked, and I could see the muscles in his shoulder shifting, growing still.

“It used to be worse.” I tried a lopsided smile, but it felt weak, and a little uneven. “But it still comes back, once in a while.”

Rhys stared at me. Then he mumbled softly: “What do you dream of?”

Something started skipping painfully under my ribs.

“I see the faeries.” My whispered words were barely audible as my gaze dragged over Rhys' face, trying to ingrain every angle into my memory as pressure began to rise in my throat. “Caught and chained, tortured and mutilated in the revel. And I can't help them. I'm caught in the crowd, and I try to move, but no matter how much I fight, it's like I'm watching from outside my own body. And their pain breaks me apart.” My voice was weak, the images rising in front of my eyes causing the ache in my chest to grow.

“And then I see you.” My whisper broke as the pressure in my throat became unbearable, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from Rhys' face, even as my vision blurred and my lips quivered.

“And she's torturing you, and I can't move. I can't get to you. And I try to tell you, scream at you that I'll get you out, but I can't speak.” My breath trembled as the ache in my chest spread, taking over every inch of my body until my voice broke and I felt something hot run over my cheek.

“And then I wake up, and I'm alone. Seeing you, finding you, was all a dream. And I can't feel you.” I inhaled quickly, hotly, my chin trembling. “You're gone.”

Through blurry eyes, I saw Rhys stare at me, still, frozen. Then a muscle in his cheek shifted, and he rolled onto his side; his warm, calloused hand slipped up my neck to cradle the side of my face, and Rhys leaned down to press his forehead against mine.

“I'm here.” His deep, husky voice travelled through me, vibrating with sorrow yet so steady and firm, my breath shuddered.

My eyes squeezed shut as the ache in my chest rose and overwhelmed me, and I twisted, wrapping my arms around Rhys' shoulders, clinging to him as I buried my face in the crook of his neck and felt hot tears roll over my cheeks, the ache in my chest pulsing.

“Look at you,”, Rhys mumbled hoarsely, his hands sliding over my waist as he slipped his arms around me, pulling me tightly into his chest. “Really thinking it'd be that easy to get rid of me.”

A wet laugh bubbled in my chest.

“Wouldn't it?”

“No.” Rhys' mumble was steady, if only a little rough when he dropped his nose into the crook of my neck, causing a gentle shiver to travel over my spine. “You know I'm too much of a selfish bastard for that.”

I inhaled shudderingly, feeling my lips rise weakly as I whispered into his skin: “No, you're not.”

“I am.” A calloused hand slid up over my back, the arm around my waist pulling me in tighter as Rhys curled around me and buried his nose at my shoulder, his low voice vibrating through me as he mumbled steadily: “Even if my soul was dragged from this world, I would still claw my way back to you.”

Something rose in my chest, wild and violent, and my eyes opened, a curtain of tears leaving the world blurry as Rhys' quiet voice washed through me.

“No one will ever keep me from you, take me away from you again. Wherever I go, it'll only be with you.”

My heart soared before giving out, and I dug my fingers into his broad shoulders, feeling my leg slide over his waist as his tall body curved around mine.

“Sounds impractical,”, I whispered thickly, my breath hitching and causing my voice to break a little.

Rhys' lips curved against my skin.

“We'll make it work.” His quiet words vibrated through me, steady and soft. “I'll just have to follow you like I always have.”

My chest tightened harsly as warmth pulsed through me, and I whispered, soft and weak: “What if I go somewhere you can't follow?”

Rhys slid his arms closer around me, burying his nose against my skin as he mumbled back hoarsely: “There's no place in this world, or beyond, that you could go where I wouldn't follow.” I could feel him swallow, then he added softly: “I'll always find a way to you.”

My heart tightened as my breath caught in my throat, and I clung tighter to him, feeling his body shielding mine as I curled into his chest and turned my head to bury my face in his neck, squeezing my eyes shut, my body shuddering with my exhale and the weight of tears pressing on my throat.

“Why?” The whispered words were trembling, thick, spilling past my lips before I could stop them, fueled by the ache rising under my ribs. But Rhys just swallowed, his deep voice soft in a hoarse mumble.

“You know why.”

My heart twisted and rose, higher and higher. My breath caught in my throat, and my lips quivered as I hastily burrowed my face in his neck and tried to breathe against the ache pulsing under my ribs.

The breeze whispered through the trees, faeries floating over the pond as the stars twinkled in the sky. Rhys held me until my lids were heavy, tears dried on my cheeks, my heart thrumming steadily against my ribs. Then he gathered me in his arms and moved to stand.

Something rose under my ribs, and when I pulled back just a little, my arms still slung around his neck, Rhys dropped his forehead against mine, his breath fanning over my skin as he turned.

My heart swelled in a flutter, and I clung to him, his arms holding me steady as Rhys started to walk back towards the house. I curled my arms around his shoulders and squeezed my eyes shut, feeling warmth pulse through me, strong, steady, Rhys' nose brushing my cheek when he pressed his forehead against my temple, carrying me up the stairs.

☆

I woke with the gentle morning breeze brushing over my skin, the scent of daybreak dew and fresh air filling my lungs, and my body buried in a warm chest, with the heavy weight of arms slung around me tightly and a scent in my nose that, even in the haze of sleep, made something tumble under my ribs.

My breath hitched softly, and I opened my eyes. My gaze focused on sunkissed golden skin and dark twisting tattoos over strong collarbones, and a muscled arm cushioning my head.

My heart toppled, and something in my stomach dipped.

You know why.

Rhys' hoarse voice echoed through my head, and suddenly, the flutter in my chest grew until there was a soft ache pulsing under my ribs.

Feeling a weight on my throat, I turned, sliding out of Rhys' arms as carefully as possible. My heart was thrumming against my ribs when I slipped out of the room, and trying to fight against the chaotic whirlwind in my head and chest, I moved down the stairs.

Golden morning light filtered through the windows facing the front garden, painting patterns onto the carpet and the books filling the shelves. I dragged open the window doors leading out onto to the terrace, breathing in deeply as my gaze moved over the garden dipped in the first golden sunrays, fairies whizzing through the air, carrying dew drops, giggling and tittering, and my heart skipped softly against my ribs.

Filling the kettle and putting it onto the stove, I pulled a pot from the cabinet, and a cup. Then, my hands no longer busy, I slowly turned, leaning back against the counter as my fingers flew over the cold marble, up to the ends of my hair before settling for fiddling with the thin strap of my nightgown as I stared into the garden, my heart pounding in my chest.

You know why.

Something in my stomach tumbled.

I did.

I had for a while, had felt the thought looming, bright and powerful somewhere under the surface. The beginnings of a realization, a vague shape, like an unspoken thought, a distant knowledge that I refused to grasp.

Because acknowledging it, just thinking it out loud would mean something so big, so terrifying it made something squeeze in my chest.

An explanation as to why Rhys had kept coming back to me. For the way he stared at me, the twinkle in those violet eyes, for that rising feeling in my chest I couldn't place and that radiated from him, for the closeness, the touching, the blatant flirting and the things he said, casually, easily, so so sure.

It made something rise in my chest.

There was something, a reason, a realization, just under the surface. And it terrified me.

Because what if I was wrong?

What if what Rhys was supposedly feeling was just fleeting, or not at all what I made it out to be?

What if what I was seeing was what I wanted to see – and not what was really there?

Something closed tightly around my chest as the flutter in my chest rose, soared higher and higher.

It would mean a broken heart.

My breath shuddered, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

Gods, I'd been an idiot. Not realising, maybe refusing to see how my soul reacted to the male with the stars in his eyes, how my whole being seemed to respond to him.

I had fallen. Maybe slowly over the span of a century, maybe with a crash the first time I'd met him and felt him behind those walls.

Something squeezed under my ribs. It twisted before rippling away soundlessly, and a trembling breath left me as I opened my eyes and stared out into the garden, wide-eyed and utterly terrified.

I loved him.

Maybe, it had always been there, lurking under the surface, in the way my breath seemed to hitch whenever I stared at him and he smiled.

I loved him. Was in love with him. So fiercely, so deeply, so all-consuming that it made my chest thrum, caused my heart to twist and soar, until the feeling filled my body. Slowly, creepingly, it had taken up every part of my soul and my being. Had made him a part of me, his pain, his anger, his sorrow, his happiness, all mine in a way nothing had ever been before. Had made him beginning and end and everything in between.

I loved Rhys.

“Shit,”, I whispered softly.

There was a low, deep chuckle behind me; and I jumped and whirled around.

Rhys crunched his brows against the light, purple eyes tired and twinkling, his voice, rough with sleep, vibrating through me when he mumbled with a smirk: “Ouch. Not usually the way I'm greeted.”

My fingers dug into the counter as I stared at him in shock, trying to breathe, my eyes wide and my heart pounding against my ribs. There was a pillow crease on his cheek, which I hadn´t thought physically possible, his hair was tousled and muscles were shifting under his bare skin as he moved past the table and rubbed his eyes.

Suddenly, heat was washing over me, and I tried to tear my gaze away, pull myself together. But my body refused to listen, stayed frozen in the spot as I stared at him wide-eyed, my breath hitching harshly, and Rhys slowed to a stop. His gaze flickered over my face, and a soft crease formed between his brows.

“Darling?”

Maybe my shields had never been any good, and he'd been able to sneak past them all this time. Or maybe, the feelings whirling in my chest, the chaos and panic in my mind, were simply too loud, too strong, bursting through me, echoing outwards at a volume that meant he didn't even need to be in my mind to hear them.

Either way, Rhys stilled. Became frozen in the spot as he stared at me. Then his eyes shifted.

Turned swirling and bright like the galaxies in the night sky as the crease between his brows melted away into nothingness and he exhaled like he'd been waiting for a century.

“All this time.” His soft voice was hoarse as his gaze dragged over my face, slightly feverish, drinking me in. “And you still didn't see.”

My heart dropped and I could feel my lips part – then something in my chest shifted, and soundlessly, a wall crumbled.

A barrier of the mind, built around the male a few feet away, slowly collapsing into itself.

My heart caught in my throat, and my eyes darted up and widened as something in my chest rose.

I could feel everything.

Emotions so strong, they took my breath. Twined together so firmly, they were barely discernable, desperation, adoration, want, need, twisting together into something hot and rising, growing into something all consuming.

I'd always felt Rhys, but never like this; had never felt his emotions, so deep and powerful and clear that they turned my doubts and fears to stardust, the ache in my chest blowing away into the sky, until my breath shuddered and my heart settled.

I inhaled softly, feeling my lips part as the emotions that weren't my own pulsed in my chest, steady, firm, unrestrained. Then I raised my head, and Rhys swallowed, his iris a night sky as his gaze dragged over mine, deep and feverish and swallowing me whole as he mumbled hoarsely: “There it is.”

A soft, breathy giggle bubbled in my throat as I stared at him, feeling pressure building in my throat and a flutter rising in my chest, growing with every second.

My fingers shook a little as I took a hesitant step forward, followed by another, and another, my eyes darting over Rhys' face, my heart swelling. He had grown completely still, like the smallest move could scare me away, like there wasn't something pounding against my ribs and swelling in my throat, causing tears to rise into my eyes as I lifted a hand and placed my palm on his chest.

The feeling of Rhys´ warm skin sent a shiver down my skin, just like the quick, racing beat of his heart as I stared up at him, feeling my bottom lip wobble a little even as I started to smile, slow and beaming. Then I opened myself and the whirlwind under my ribs.

Rhys' eyes widened.

A shuddering breath ran through him, and his hand flew up to cover mine, fingers curling around mine, holding on almost desperately, like he was afraid I'd pull away, break the thrum of emotion flooding through me into his body. Then a soft sound broke from his chest, and Rhys moved, forward and forward until my arm was trapped between us and the whole of his body pressed against mine, his free hand sliding up to cradle my face, and my heart caught in my throat when he dropped his head to press his forehead against mine.

The flutter in my chest rose, and I quickly squeezed my eyes shut and breathed out shakingly.

Rhys made a soft, hoarse sound deep in his throat, his hand slipping down the side of my neck, fingers sliding into my hair as he pressed closer, and my heart shuddered. I could feel his body towering over mine, the way the muscles in his biceps shifted when his fingers slid closer around my hand, his warm chest pressing against mine -

Heat twinged low in my stomach, and my fingers curled against his chest.

A gentle shudder ran over Rhys' warm skin, and my breath hitched when he dipped his head to the side, his nose brushing against mine.

My heart rose into my throat, and I swallowed, my hand uncurling slowly as I slid my palm down his chest. I could feel his muscles tensing under my touch as a shiver ran over his skin, his fingers twisting into my hair, and a tingle travelled down my spine when Rhys slowly nudged his nose against mine.

Something dropped very low in my stomach, heat rising up my body.

I swallowed, my free hand rising to cling to Rhys' side, and when I pulled my head back a little, just enough to look at him, his breath grazing my skin, my heart rose.

Rhys' eyes were glazed over with a heat that made something twist in my stomach. His iris was hazy and a few shades darker under heavy lids, a muscle in his jaw shifting and throat working, and his gaze was molten where it was glued to my lips.

My breath caught in my throat.

Even when Rhys had stared for too long before, something heated in his eyes, it had always been brimming under the surface, never quite so obvious.

Now, nothing was hidden. His breath was uneven, his lips parted and throat working, and his eyes, heavy lidded and dark, were swirling, feverish, wanting -

Rhys' fingers curled into my hair, and my body shuddered, something whirling and rising under my ribs as I dug my fingers into his skin and raised my chin without having control over it, Rhys' hot breath grazing over my skin when my nose nudged against his.

A deep sound rose in Rhys' chest, his eyes shifting into something even deeper and darker, and his hand slid into my hair when he dipped his head, his nose brushing against the side of mine, tantalizingly slow. Something clenched harshly in my stomach when I felt his hot breath grazing my lips, and a tingling shiver ran down my spine when I sank back down onto my heels and Rhys followed me, calloused hands pulling me closer and head dipping to -

"Hello?", a melodious, happy voice chirped from the terrace, and my heart jumped; my eyes flew open as I lightly pushed at Rhys' chest and whirled around, and Mor walked through the open window doors.

"Anyone he-", her gaze met mine, and she slowed to a stop, one corner of her lips quirking cheekily.

"Am I interrupting?"

My heart missed a beat, and I hastily looked back over my shoulder, only to find Rhys' eyes on me like maybe, they had never left. There was a twinkle slowly spreading through his iris, and my heart rose in a flutter, because something had changed, obviously, something in that thrum against my ribs, and yet -

I narrowed my eyes in a soft glower, and Rhys slowly started to smile, lazy and brilliant.

"What are you doing here, Morrigan?" His deep voice rumbled through me even with him a foot away, his twinkling eyes never leaving my face.

Mor crunched her brows, seemingly completely unbothered as she turned in a circle with a flourish.

"Well, you hadn't even told us this place existed until yesterday, and -", she looked over her shoulder, smiling brightly, "I was curious." Her twinkling amber eyes found mine, and her smile softened, though the light in her eyes seemed to brighten. "It's beautiful."

Something rose under my chest as my gaze flickered towards the garden without me being able to help it, my breath catching in my throat. "It is."

I could feel the weight of eyes on me, a tingle travelling over the side of my face, and I blinked, clearing my throat and grinning sheepishly at Mor. "Sorry, didn't really expect anyone -"

"Obviously." Mor's lips twitched into a smirk as her eyes moved from Rhys, lounging against the counter in only pyjama pants and staring at me, towards my long nightgown, and I winced and quickly crossed my bare arms in front of my chest, feeling heat rising in my cheeks as I crunched my nose.

"You want some tea?"

"You know, actually,", Mor turned fully towards me and raised her brows, "I also came here because I thought it could be fun if I showed you the city today?" Her lips twitched, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Have some one on one time, if Rhys isn't too bothered by that." She winked at me.

"Why would I be bothered?" Rhys' eyes stayed on my face, one corner of his lips curving upwards.

"Well, you did keep her from us for more than a century, without telling us about her even once; which, by the way, is ridiculous." Mor's lips curved. "It's almost like you were afraid we'd steal her away from you or something -"

"Can we get breakfast?", I quickly interrupted, because Rhys' eyes had started to twinkle in a way that made shivers dance down my spine and something twitch in my stomach.

Mor turned her gaze away from Rhys, her knowing smirk bleeding into a genuine, beaming smile when she widened her eyes.

"Obviously! I'll show you all the good places, and more; do you have your dress yet?"

I blinked, then I turned my head towards her and crunched my brows.

"What dress?"

Mor parted her lips. Then she sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes, turning towards her cousin with an exasperated look.

"Rhys, you prat; you haven't told her?"

Rhys stared at me, his violet eyes twinkling when he said, deep voice absentminded: "Was busy."

Mor huffed, her lips quirking. "I bet you were."

Rhys just lightly rolled his eyes, and I quickly mouthed prat?, causing him to glare softly at me.

Don´t you dare.

Feeling a slow, beaming smile take over my face, I widened my eyes and mouthed prat, and Rhys huffed, his lips curving until a wide grin made his cheeks crease.

Mor cleared her throat, and I quickly tore my eyes away from Rhys' face, feeling heat bleed into my cheeks when my gaze met Morrigan's, her eyes twinkling knowingly.

"Haven't told me what?", I said quickly, bouncing on the balls of my feet lightly and fighting against the blush growing on my face.

Mor sighed, but her lips curved as she raised her brows. "Summer Solstice."

My heart rose in a flutter, and my gaze darted towards Rhys as my lips parted.

"You - you celebrate that here?"

"Well, not on a huge scale like Summer and Day,", Mor waved her hand dismissingly, "but Rhys has started throwing a party every year still, because, well -", she smirked, "any excuse for a party is a good one."

Rhys' lips curved softly as his eyes pierced mine, a twinkle in their violet depths that made my breath hitch.

"Anyway, he holds it at the River House -"

I blinked before raising my brows.

"Another house?" I felt my eyes widen slightly as my head whipped around and I stared at Mor before quickly looking back at Rhys in disbelief, but he just shrugged, his smirk feline.

"Anyway, when we started doing the celebration, we decided to hold it there because the garden is just beautiful this time of year, though,", Mor turned to look over her shoulder, her eyes almost wistful, "definitely not as beautiful as this one."

My breath hitched as my gaze followed hers, and something fluttered against my ribs.

"The longest day of the year."

Rhys' voice made my heart dip, quiet like only I was meant to hear, and I blinked before tearing my eyes away from the garden, something rising in my chest when I found his twinkling eyes on my face.

"I know." I felt my lips curve softly even as I suppressed the urge to swallow, my eyes moving over his face. "The fairies dance through it, all night long."

Rhys' gaze pierced mine, deep, twinkling, like maybe, he could see the memories of midsummer nights in a wild garden and a dress whirling around my ankles.

"Maybe they'll dance with us if you're there."

I stared at him, and my heart began to slowly flutter against my ribs, more wildly with every second as I started to smile slowly.

"Is that your way of asking if I'll come?"

Rhys stared at me, something swirling in his eyes when he mumbled, slow, deep, steady: "Will you come?"

My breath caught in my throat, and I blinked. Then I widened my eyes and whispered cheekily: "I don't think I have a dress."

Rhys' gaze heated. But before he could open his mouth, Mor chimed in, beaming happily.

"We can get you one! Today; I mean, it is in two days, but I'll take you to the best dressmaker of the city, you'll love it; and she'll have it done in time!"

I felt my lips part quickly, but before I could even make a sound, there was a soft huff; a familiar scent washed over me, and fingers slipped under my chin, closing my mouth again.

"Don't even think about it."

My heart jumped and eyes darted up, and Rhys' lips curved.

I huffed and twisted my neck to get a better look at him, feeling my brows crunch in protest, but Rhys just sent me a wink. "You know arguing is pointless. I´ll get you a dress one way or the other."

Glowering up at him even as something jumped high in my chest, I narrowed my eyes even further when he smirked and dipped his head to mumble: "Just say thank you."

His warm breath brushed over my nose, and my heart dipped.

Staring up at him, I scowled gently. Then I turned my head and sent Mor a brilliant, cheeky smile. "Thank you, Mor."

Rhys huffed, sending me a glare, and Mor smirked and winked.

"My pleasure." She raised her brows and clapped her hands. "Alright, let´s go! Though you,", her lips quirked, "might want to change first."

When I moved back down the stairs a few minutes later, dressed and tying off my braid, Mor was crouched in the middle of the garden, watching the faeries that seemed a little weary but curious when she beamed at them.

"You know she's going to put you through trying on dozens of dresses?"

My heart skipped, and my gaze darted towards where Rhys was leaning against the counter, a steaming cup of tea in his hand and one corner of his lips curving as his eyes raked over my face.

"So?" I felt my lips quirk.

Rhys' iris twinkled.

"A lot of it will be Night Court fashion." His gaze dragged slowly over my body, one corner of his lips curving into a slow, lazy smirk. "It usually means little fabric."

I stared at him as heat pooled low in my stomach, and suddenly, something started fluttering against my ribs violently.

Slowly, I began to walk backwards towards the terrace, sending him a growing, mischievous smile.

"If you want to see me scantily clad, you just have to ask."

Rhys' gaze darted up, his gaze narrowing in and growing dark and heated, and feeling my heart catch in my throat, I smiled beamingly and turned around with a breathed laugh, hopping out onto the terrace to meet Mor at the foot of the steps.

☆

Feeling a breeze brush some hair into my face, I breathed out softly, the warmth of sunlight dappled over my face making my lips curve without my doing.

"So..."

I blinked before opening my eyes and lowering my head, and Mor crunched her nose, looking at me curiously. "What's so special about Summer Solstice?"

We were sitting on the steps of a fountain, the water splashing and bubbling in our backs, a thin paper bag between us on the grey cobblestone, smelling of the buttery pastry I had bought in a shop in one of the countless alleys.

Mor had kept her promise, taking me for breakfast in a small café right at the Sidra. Then she had pulled me into the maze of alleys, streets and squares.

First, she'd taken me to the workshop of her favorite dressmaker, located in a beautiful townhouse in the Rainbow, the artist's district. It belonged to tall, slim High Fae who was clearly familiar with Morrigan, and who had, very happily, pulled all the stops when Mor had winked at her.

Mor had made me try different silhouettes, and I had wandered the aisles and aisles with fabrics, my breath catching at the colors and stitchings. We'd agreed after a while, and when we left the shop, there was a rough sketch and fabric sitting on the dressmaker's desk and my heart was beating against my throat.

Now, the afternoon sun was shining in the sky over the small park that stretched over a little hill surrounded by tall sandstone buildings, their roofs glittering in the light. Trees rose into the sky, offering shade, sunlight was dappled in swaying patterns onto the grass and cool stone of the fountain where we had decided to take a little break, and my feet were aching and my heart was full.

I needed a second to tear my eyes away from the sight of the city stretched out before the mountains. Then I blinked and crunched my brows, looking over at her.

"What do you mean?"

One corner of Mor's lips curved gently. "You just... you looked so surprised."

I felt my heart rise in a soft flutter against my ribs, and I hesitated for a second, then I turned my head and gently narrowed my eyes at her curiously.

"How long have you been... celebrating it like this?"

Mor furrowed her brows, shrugging softly as she plucked a piece off her pastry.

"Not long actually. I think Rhys decided to make it a new tradition not quite a century ago, fairly out of,", she blinked, her words slowing as her eyes suddenly began to twinkle softly, "thin air..."

I stared at her, a quick flutter beginning to build in my chest.

"What does it mean to you again?" Mor stared at me, her lips curving.

"It's..." I swallowed softly. "It's a celebration. Held by the fairies, every Summer Solstice. They gather and dance, from evening until deep into the night. All of them, sprites, pixies, nymphs, wraiths, all coming together, celebrating light and life and -" My breath hitched. "Magic."

Mor's warm eyes were glittering.

"You think he -" My voice broke off, my breath catching in my throat.

"Started celebrating it here because of you?" Mor's lips tipped upwards, and she blinked and raised an eyebrow, her eyes twinkling in the light. "That does sound awfully like him."

Feeling my heart pounding against my ribs, I stared at her, something suddenly tingling in my stomach.

Mor's smile widened a little. Then she blinked.

"You know, he never told us about you." She raised a brow, her iris sparkling. "Not once."

I huffed gently.

"I know." Shaking my head softly, I turned my head, crunching my brows gently as I blinked into the sunlight. "He told me about that, after I got mad because he turned up, winnowing in even though he was badly wounded and exhausted,", a breath left me, "idiot."

Mor giggled, and I felt my lips curve.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Mor´s gaze flicker over my face, warm and bright. Her throat worked. Then she whispered softly: "Thank you."

I blinked. Something in my chest rose and tightened as my gaze darted towards her, and Mor breathed out, her smile a little uneven when she stared back at me.

"I've known Rhys practically my whole life." She furrowed her brows gently, her eyes swimming with emotion. "He's always carried - a lot of weight on his shoulders, and it just got more when he became High Lord. He always took on everything, had to be strong, for everyone. He lets us know when things are heavy, but - he never fully lets us in." She huffed. "He doesn't want to burden us." Shaking her head gently, she hesitated before looking over at me, one corner of her lips rising gently.

"But then he started disappearing, just for a few hours, sometimes more, sometimes less. He never told us where he was going;", she raised her brows, "I always assumed he was just - taking a breather somewhere, taking some time by himself. But whenever he got back, he had that light in his eyes." Her iris started to twinkle as she stared at me.

"That was you." She blinked, her voice a little hoarse when she whispered: "You saved him. Because you saw something in him he lost the ability to see. And because when you showed him that, he believed you. Because he saw something in you too. That same thing that makes him stare at you like you put the stars into the sky." She swallowed gently, and her eyes flickered over my face. "It's like with you, he can just be."

My breath caught in my throat as I stared at her, something suddenly tight in my chest.

"He told you all of that?", I whispered.

Mor's lips quirked gently.

"Not everything. But enough." Her gaze flickered over my face. "He told us about you only after he came back from -" She broke off, her eyes welling with grief. Then she looked back up at me, her iris shimmering as she raised a corner of her lips.

"He was - a wreck, when he got here. But you - you kept him afloat. He was waiting for you. It felt like he was holding his breath. And then you turned up and..." She breathed a brilliant smile. "I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you."

My heart rose against my ribs, and Mor sniffled and beamed. "It's like he's come back to life, in a way he's never been before. Like something has - settled, fallen into place."

Something welled over in my chest, and I turned my gaze ahead, fighting to swallow against the pressure in my throat as I stared down the hill and over the roofs of the city, glittering in the sun, trees swaying gently in the breeze.

"Yeah,", I whispered.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Mor's gaze move over my face, bright and warm. Then she turned back ahead as well, and together, we stared over the city.

"It's beautiful,", I mumbled softly.

Mor´s lips curved upwards, her voice a little hoarse when she mumbled back: "It's the Court of Dreams."

☆

The sun was disappearing beyond the mountains, painting the skies pink and violet, the first stars twinkling high above when I slipped through the gate and breathed in the scent of flowers and grass and warm evening air.

Mor had dropped me off at the winding street before winnowing away, pulling me into a hug so tight, my ribs cracked, but I had just squeezed her back, feeling the scent of her perfume rising into my nose and her hair tickling my skin.

Slowly making my way around the house, I inhaled deeply, feeling warmth spread through my chest when I saw fairies whizzing through the air over the pond, giggling and chasing each other.

"You took your time."

My heart rose against my ribs, and Rhys, lounging on the steps leading up to the terrace, watched me, his violet eyes reflecting the stars blinking in the sky when he lightly raised a brow. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me, leaving me here all by myself -"

A soft snorted laugh built in my chest, and I sent him a cheeky grin. "I'm sure you were perfectly fine entertaining yourself for once."

"I wasn't. I got so bored I actually went to do some work."

Giggling softly, I gently kicked his leg before plopping down next to him, breathing in deeply. His scent rose into my lungs, and my heart missed a beat.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Rhys' twinkling iris flicker over my face. "Did Mor drag you from shop to shop until you fainted from exhaustion?"

I crunched my brows and looked over at him. "Why, do you think I look the part?"

Rhys' lips curved.

"Did you find a dress?" His gaze drank me in as a crease formed in his cheek, and I stared back, my breath catching and my heart thrumming against my ribs.

"Yeah." My voice was a little soft, a little breathless as I tried not to stare at the curve of Rhys' lips and the small dip in his cheek, his skin glowing in the sunset.

"And?" His voice trickled over me, slow, deep, matching the volume of mine as his gaze dragged over my face, heated, swirling.

I felt my lips tick up as I shrugged one shoulder gently, innocently. "What?"

Rhys stared at me, his arm brushing against my back, sending tingling shivers down my body, and slowly, one corner of his lips curved. "Where is it?"

I huffed softly. "Not yet made."

"Shame." Rhys' eyes were twinkling. "You could let me take a peak."

I widened my eyes and whispered with a bright, cheeky smile: "Where's the fun in that?"

Rhys slowly started to smile brilliantly, his eyes crinkling, and my breath caught in my throat.

For a second, we stared at each other, something trumming in my chest and twisting in my stomach, then Rhys blinked, his eyes never leaving mine as he mumbled: "I think I might have to take the couch tonight."

I could feel my brows crunch in confusion. "Why?"

A deep crease formed in Rhys' cheek, his iris twinkling as his gaze dragged over my face. "Because I'm not sure I would be able to control myself if I saw you in that flimsy nightgown again."

My heart dipped, and suddenly, something hot trickled down my spine.

"I could leave it off."

Rhys' iris hazed over, a rough sound breaking from his throat, and I hastily bit onto the inside of my cheek as a laugh bubbled in my chest, mixing with a rising, fluttering feeling.

"Beast,", Rhys mumbled, his husky voice leaving something twisting down in my stomach.

I shrugged, feeling my lips curve as I turned my gaze back towards the garden. "I mean, if you can't handle it -"

Rhys' gaze narrowed in on my face, became deep and twinkling, and something toppled in my chest as I nearly bit down onto my lip, wondering what on earth I had been thinking.

Swallowing it down, I looked over my shoulder, and Rhys stared at me, gaze molten and dark as slowly, a slight smirk made his lips curve, playful and mischievous.

"Is that a challenge, darling?"

My breath caught in my throat, and my heart swerved sharply.

I blinked, then I shrugged softly, smiling back cheekily. "I don't know, is it?"

Rhys breathed a deep chuckle and leaned forward, and I felt myself freeze when his warm breath brushed over my lips. Then he gently nudged his nose against the side of mine and mumbled, his lips almost brushing my cheek: "Careful." He pulled back just enough to stare at me, his violet iris reflecting the sky as they dragged over mine, twinkling. "I don't lose."

"First time for everything,", I whispered back breathily, feeling my heart rise into my throat, and Rhys slowly started to smile.

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @stayinglow-exploringworlds @tcris2020 @lizziesfirstwife @brandywineeeee @t0uch-starved-h0e @sharknutz @valencia-rou @twsssmlmaa @waytoomanyteenagefeels @luvmoo @starrybeesandlibraries @corvusmorte @marmorjorts @bubnix @wallacewillow0773638 @ailyr92 @azrielshadows1nger @secretlyhers @icey--stars @awritingtree @cult-of-enji-todoroki @oksloan3 @emotional-loner @azrielslefttoe @ladybirdbeetle7 @brujitafantomatico @jurdanpotter

half a heart ⤑ knj | m.

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦:〝 you and namjoon have always been the best of friends; who just happen to be in love and are refusing to do anything about it. 〞best friends to lovers. childhood friends to lovers. idiots to lovers.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: namjoon x reader

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: angst ⋆ fluff ⋆ smut

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 19.5k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: empHASIS ON THE IDIOTS TO LOVERS, pining, god there’s so much pining, namjoon is the sweetest man and this fic will ruin all other men for you, slight jealousy, slight possessive!namjoon, soft dom!namjoon, big cock!namjoon, sub!reader, biting, marking, grinding, dry humping, dirty talk, nipple play, nipple sucking, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex, riding, soft sex, i am in love with kim namjoon, some deep dicking because its not a sol fic for joon without this, creampie, slight cumplay

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: there’s honestly so much fluff in this and that is a testament to how much i love Kim namjoon papa bless,

⏤ thank you to my sweet beans @peekaboongi​ and @shadowsremedy​ for beta reading this for me ♡

⇥ part of the mixtape series

Decidedly, there have been many days in your life. Some happy, some sad. Some you remember better than others while others fade away into the back of your mind. Some are ingrained so deep in your mind that when you close your eyes, you can see every detail as if it’s currently happening. None, however, do you remember more clearly than the day you met Namjoon. It had been almost two decades ago; when you were five, and he was six. You remember being nervous - your parents had just moved to Seoul - and unlike your small port town of Yeosu, you had no friends, nor did you know anyone.

Seoul had originally felt like an adventure, but actually moving there had been a lonely experience. Tall skyscrapers dwarfed your form, and life moved as fast as its people - unlike your sleepy hometown. Thus, when your mother had brought you to the park, you’d clung to her skirt - too afraid to venture out and speak to anyone. Closing your eyes, you can still see the faded metal of the monkey bars, hear the tinkering laughter of children running around and smell the sweet scent of the Bungeoppang stall that was nearby.

It had all been incredibly overwhelming back then, and you’d only hidden further behind your mother’s legs. Until - you’d spotted a boy, as lonely as you. A fond smile curls on your face as you remember Namjoon’s little frame. With chubby cheeks, curious eyes, and dressed in little shorts and a bright red t-shirt, he’d sparked your own curiosity. Unlike the other children, he wasn’t running around, or climbing the slide, or even hanging from the monkey bars. Rather, he sat crouched on the floor, intrigued brown eyes staring intently at the bushes as he stuck his hand into the shrubbery.

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Rattled 01 (M) | JJK

{Pairing} Jeon Jeongguk/Reader {Kim Namjoon/Reader, briefly}

{Genre} Single dad AU, Angst, Healing, E2L, F2L, Smut

{Rating} E 18+

{Word Count} 10.3K

{Warnings} angst, anxiety, depictions of panic attack, lots of crying, feelings of hopelessness, very brief non graphic sex. 

{Series Masterlist}

{Banner by @stutterfly​}

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hii i love love how u write spencer omds🥸

uhh i was wondering if you could write sth based off the song “we’ll never have sex” by leith ross? pls dont feel pressured to write this btw😭😭😭 hope ur having a good day lovely💗💗

hello my love i have no self control so this is extremely long and plotty but i love this song and i hope that this is any good at all crying emoji (i'm on a laptop LOL) enjoy!!

warnings/tags: angst/fluff, fem!reader, negative self-talk from reader, mentions of past sexual coercion/feeling used, mentions of past excessive drinking to combat social anxiety, ive been watching a lot of new girl lately and i think it shows, SO FRIENDS TO LOVERS, happy ending

You weren’t expecting to end up on Spencer Reid’s worn-leather couch at two in the morning, clutching a chipped mug of coffee in your hands as you listen to the sounds of the city from the street below. But there you are, sitting with your legs folded under you, in your favorite dress and first date-night makeup (now bleeding and smudged from all the crying.) And realizing that despite considering him one of your closest friends, you haven’t been to his apartment in a long time. There are, of course, good reasons for that—but you try to push those from your mind. 

“I’m really sorry about this,” you sigh, staring at your warped reflection in the glassy black surface of your coffee. Spencer is coming out of the small kitchen, now bearing his own cup. 

“Please, stop apologizing.” 

You glance up, tentatively studying him from behind the safety of your mug. While he may not have been asleep when you knocked on his door ten minutes ago, lachrymose and barely verbal, he must have been getting ready for bed. He’s clad in patterned pajama pants, mismatched socks, and an FBI crewneck that is just big enough to reveal the collar of the tee-shirt underneath. He’s already taken out his contacts, and you were startled by the reminder that he also has glasses. 

“So...” he begins, bringing you back to the present moment, “we don't have to talk about anything, if you don’t want to, but...” 

You sigh, watching coffee bubbles swirl like stars in a galaxy. 

“It’s fine. Honestly, I’m kind of embarrassed. I didn’t really think, I just... ended up here.” 

“Yeah... where did you come from?” he laughs quietly. “Not that I’m complaining. But I recall you not living super close by.” 

“No, no. I was actually on a date. Kind of.” 

“Ah.” There’s a beat of silence, and ostensibly Spencer is waiting for you to say more, but instead you take a sip from your mug. “At two in the morning?” You nod dully, staring at the labyrinthine pattern of the Persian rug.  

“I’m taking it that it wasn’t a very good date...?” 

A whoosh of air escapes from your puffed cheeks. 

“No it was not. Not by the end, anyway. It actually started really well, which made it even more disappointing when he...” you laugh, but there’s not much humor in it. “Well, when he kicked me out of his car on a street corner because I didn’t want to sleep with him.” 

You don’t look to see Spencer’s reaction—only take another long, baleful sip of coffee and ignore the heavy silence.  

“I’m really sorry. You... you deserve so much better than that.” 

An attempt at a jaded scoff from you falls flat. 

“Yeah, well. Tell that to the last three white house interns I’ve gone on dates with. It’s the same thing every time.” 

“Have you considered going on fewer dates with white house interns...?” The nervous humor is a thin veil over genuine critique. You shrug, biting the inside of your cheek. 

“It’s not just them. Every single guy I’ve liked since I was 15 has been like this. Even my past relationships, I felt like I was almost... tricked into, you know? I mean, these guys, they act all understanding and willing to take it slow or whatever, until you’re in a relationship, and suddenly they’re guilt tripping you so hard and making you feel so obligated to...” you catch yourself just in time, glancing up at Spencer. You’re not sure what to make of his expression. The drawn brow and slightly squinted eyes trained so intently on you could be sympathy, or anger, or pity, or apathy—you look away, not sure you even want to know what he’s thinking. “Sorry. You don’t need to hear all about that. Basically romance is exhausting and since I’ll clearly be single forever I’m considering running away to join a nunnery.” 

When he doesn’t respond for too long, you look back up quizically. 

“I’m not sure you know what romance actually is,” he says as soon as your gaze meets his, like the eye-contact activated some kind of hair-trigger in his vocal box. 

You blink, lowering the coffee cup to your lap. 

Says Spencer Reid? 

“...sorry?” 

He flushes, stammering to clarify himself. 

“I just meant—I—I know I’m not exactly fighting women off with a stick—” he interrupts himself with a self-conscious (adorable) laugh— “but... but I have been in love, at least once.”  

“Maeve,” you say, gently—trying to shove down bitter guilt as you remember how jealous you’d been when Spencer had first told you about her. “I remember.” 

He swallows and nods. 

“We never even met—we just talked. All the time. I had no idea what she looked like. But it didn’t matter at all. Because I knew her, and I loved her. Maybe things would have gone further if I hadn’t been calling her from public phone booths, but that wasn’t the most important thing to either of us. We were still in love.” You try to shut out the sharp ache in your chest. Being jealous of the way he speaks about a dead woman is so wrong.  

“What I’m trying to say is that romance isn’t solely about sex, or even physical appearance. It sounds to me like you’ve been with a lot of men who don’t understand that. And it would be such a shame for you to write romance off in general before you even get to experience it. You are... an extraordinary woman. You’re funny, and intelligent, and kind, and so capable of being loved. One day, someone is going to see beyond your pulchritude and prove that to you. I hope you let them try.” 

More tears blur the pattern on the rug, pooling in the rims of your eyes before spilling down your cheeks in fast, fat drops. Shakily you set the cup down, resting your elbows on your knees and hiding your face in your hands. You sniff once. Twice. Shake your head quickly, attempting to wipe the tears away without further smearing your makeup everywhere. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Spencer breathes, leaning forward but obviously unsure how to comfort you. “Please don’t cry, I wasn’t--I was trying to do the opposite of this.” 

“No, I’m sorry! You didn’t have to—you didn’t—I’m sorry. That was way too nice.” 

But you're not crying because he was nice.  

Someone will love you, but not me. That’s all you can hear. 

His voice is a mere whisper when he next speaks. 

“I meant every word.” 

You take a shuddering breath, allowing yourself a moment of reprieve behind the peaceful black of your eyelids. You can’t be looking at his face when you say what you’re about to say. 

“I had a crush on you for the longest time, you know.” 

Ringing silence. But it doesn’t last as long as you’d imagined. It’s not as world ending. 

“Had?” 

The little smile in his voice is like a fist around your heart. 

“Yeah. You know what changed?” 

“What’s that?” 

Absolutely nothing. 

“Every time I got super drunk and started hitting on you, you’d just drive me home. And I did it a lot. Like, for months. But you were such a gentleman. It drove me fucking crazy. So eventually I figured you just didn’t like me and I gave up.” 

Another stretch of silence. A breeze comes in from the open window, fluttering the curtains and cooling the tears on your face. His response is sad when it finally comes. 

“You thought I didn’t like you because I didn’t try to take advantage of you when you were drunk?” 

“Pretty much.” You smile ruefully, fingertips still pressed over your eyes. “God, listen to me. No wonder I get treated like garbage.” 

“Stop. Don’t talk about yourself like that. Did you hear anything I just said?” 

You sniff, looking to the ceiling. 

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It was really sweet.” 

More silence. 

“But you don’t believe it.” 

A bitter laugh poisons the air around you. 

“I don’t know.  I’m kind of tired of waiting for someone to prove it to me. Just for once, I want someone to be interested in me beyond having sex in the back of their fucking... Range Rover, or whatever. Like, maybe all that stuff you said is true, but there’s no evidence to support it, and I know logically you’re probably right but I can’t help wondering if... if I’m the outlier. Maybe there just isn’t someone for me like that. Maybe I’m just gonna be the sex in the back of the Range Rover girl forever.” 

A noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob forces itself from your throat and you bury your face in your hands again, shaking your head. 

“Wow, I am so sorry,” you say a little too loudly, “I did not mean to be this honest tonight. Did you spike my coffee?” 

“You are not the outlier,” Spencer whispers.  

You sniff, lifting your head haltingly to look at him. 

“What?” 

His voice shakes slightly as he speaks. 

“You said you can’t help wondering if you’re the outlier, and maybe there just isn’t someone for you like that. That’s not true.” 

“Spencer, those are just words. You can’t possibly know that. Statistical probabilities don’t count.” 

“That’s... that’s not how I know.” 

Your heart drops as you study his face.  

No. 

Surely he’s not saying what you think he’s saying. 

Surely he wouldn’t do this to you after you’ve just told him everything you told him. You have been harboring feelings for him for years. Since you met. He can’t just spring this on you one night because you’re a little bummed out. If he felt the same, you would have found out a long time ago; he had ample opportunity to tell you. There was a period of months where you practically threw yourself all over him at every chance you got, and he did nothing. So this... this is just cruel—something you’ve never known Spencer Reid to be. 

You stand up, trembling slightly with rage and grief and humiliation. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t say things that you don’t mean just to make me feel better.” 

“What are you doing? Don’t--” 

You scoop up your purse, trying to get to the front door as fast as your gelatinous legs will allow. More tears are streaming down your face now and you don’t need him to see what he’s done to you—to see how much you care what he thinks. 

“It’s fine. Thanks for the coffee, I’ll see you around—” 

A hand around your wrist stops you in your tracks 

“Stop. Just... please give me a second to talk, okay?” 

With nothing left to give, you turn to him. 

“Don’t be mean, Spencer. Don’t act like you liked me too. That makes me feel... so much worse.” 

He takes a deep, shaky breath, as if steeling himself. Tawny eyes bore into your soul, and you realize that there is so much sheer nervous energy radiating off of him it’s infectious. Your heart begins to pound as he speaks. 

“I’m not doing that. I’m being an idiot, because you just told me that you don’t feel that way about me anymore but... but I do. And I have to tell you now because for six months I tortured myself wondering why you would flirt with me so much when you were hammered and then act like nothing happened the next day. There were so many times I almost told you how I felt but I didn’t and now I am because even if it ruins our friendship you need to know that somebody... that I wanted to be that person for you. I still do.” 

Your heart is like an unmoored zeppelin in your chest, bumping against your esophagus and threatening to either burst or jump out of your mouth. You take your chances, whispering so quietly it’s almost inaudible. 

“You... you like me?” 

“Yes,” Spencer sighs. “I have liked you for a very long time. And I’m sorry—” 

Whatever ridiculous thing he was going to apologize for, you don’t give him the chance. Instead you launch yourself at him, capturing his lips in a kiss that feels so much better than it’d ever been in your fantasies because it’s real. You hear his sharp intake of breath, but it only takes a second for him to respond, cradling your face in his hands like you’re the entire world. For a moment, time bends. Years of longing, of buried dreams crash into the present in a brilliant, dazzling explosion.

And then, as quickly as it started, he pulls away. The absence of his touch is like a vacuum, so much worse now that you know exactly how it feels to have his lips on yours, even if it was only for a few seconds. How the hell did you live like that for so long? How are you supposed to live like that ever again?

“You’re not thinking clearly,” he breathes, tilting his head back toward the ceiling like he’s barely holding onto his self control. “You just want someone to comfort you, I’m not going to take advantage of you when you’re in an emotionally vulnerable state and confided in me which is manufacturing a false sense of attachment—” 

You grab his wrists, which still graze your jaw.

“Spencer, stop intellectualizing for thirty seconds. I promise you I am thinking clearly.” 

“You said you used to like me, past tense—” 

“Yeah, I did. Do you believe every single murderer who says he didn’t do it?” 

“No, but—” 

“Have you ever heard the phrase; a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts?” 

“Of course I have.” 

“Then what more could you possibly need to be convinced that I really like you? I already kissed you! What is stopping you?” 

Another deep breath is taken by him that seems to suck all the air out of the quiet room. Briefly, you wonder if you’ve made a terrible, terrible mistake. If you really do like him so much more than he could ever like you.  

Until he looks back down, eyes so golden-brown in the dim light, so kind and full of affectionate concern as he carefully assesses every square centimeter of your face, looking for... well, you’re not exactly sure what. It’s like he’s extracting every thought from your head, turning them over like sun-warmed stones until he finds what he’s looking for. He smooths his hands over your hair, brushing strands away from your teary face. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of holding your breath, he speaks. 

“I just want you to believe what I believe about you. But I don’t want you to have to rely on me or anyone else for your own self-worth.” 

“Well, don’t you think very highly of yourself,” you tease with a sniffle. He laughs—it's quiet, but his smile is so bright without even trying that suddenly you can’t remember why you’ve ever been sad. The small miracle of his laughter makes you feel so light, and you realize it has nothing to do with the way he makes you feel about yourself. It has everything to do with who he is. 

Once the giggles die down, you tentatively mirror his hold on your face. 

“Spencer, I don’t like you because you like me. I’ve liked you for an embarrassingly long time. I liked you enough that I gave myself a severe hangover at least once a week for three months just so I could have an excuse to flirt shamelessly with you.” 

A half-sad smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he gently swipes under your eyes. 

“You never had to do that. I would have welcomed your sober brazen flirting with open arms.” 

“Well... do you believe me?” you plead. His amber eyes shine. 

“I do.” 

“Will you kiss me?” 

“If that’s what you want.” 

You nod, rising on your toes to meet him halfway. 

When your lips meet again, it is sweet, and honest, and slow, and deep. Still, there is no desperation--no race to an imagined finish line, no clash of teeth and pawing hands. It is a kiss for the sake of it—as if it were the greatest intimacy. Not a precursor to sharing a bed, but something bigger than that in and of its own. Something just as worthy and important. For the first time, you think you’re beginning to understand romance. And while you wouldn’t mind if things did escalate, you also know that Spencer knows that’s not what matters right now. Because he actually understands you—he actually cares. He will wait until you understand that you mean so much more than that to him.

To that end, he pulls away, gently supplanting his absence with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“It would be polite of me to offer you a ride home, wouldn’t it?” he whispers, like it’s the last thing he wants to do. You bite the inside of your cheek, coming up with reasons not to go. One ridiculous one arises from the depths of your memory that you know he won’t be able to say no to. 

“Or... I could stay here, and we could watch one of those nerdy foreign films you’re always talking about?” 

A slow, perfect, high-watt smile blossoms on his face, and you know you’ve said exactly the right thing. 

“Nerdy? Oh, my darling girl... Soviet-era filmography is far from nerdy. небесная машина will completely defy what you thought you knew about the life of an average Russian villager in the 1950’s.” 

“Oh, good. Because I’ve really been meaning to change the way I think about the average 1950’s Russian villager,” you smile, already closing in to kiss him again. 

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

epilogue

Three hours later, you’re crying because the life of the average Russian villager in the 1950’s was so much worse than you’d previously thought. 

“It was good, right?” Spencer asks as the credits roll over a bleak snowy sepia landscape, leaning back to get a better look at you. You sit up from where you’d been leaning against him, furiously wiping your eyes. 

“It was terrible! Why didn’t you tell me that everyone except the kid dies in the end?!” 

“Because that’s the whole point of the movie!” he laughs, pulling you back into him. “I’m sorry. I probably should have explained how depressing this entire era of film was outside of the US.” 

“And also how long the movies were. I was not prepared for how many five minute long clips of empty fields there were going to be.” 

“You’re right,” he ammends, wrapping his arms around you in a way that gives you butterflies and makes you sleepy at the same time. “Next time we can watch whatever you want to watch.” 

Time passes like that—you in his arms, watching weak light slowly flood the room with half-lidded eyes and listening to the sounds of the city waking up from the street below, underscoring the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Thoughts float by like leaves on the ever-flowing current of your mind, and you’re happy to let them pass until one in particular catches your attention. 

“Spencer?” 

He hums, like he’d been deep in his own proverbial river of thought. 

“What does pulchritude mean?” 

It takes him a split second to remember the bit of conversation from earlier to which you are referring, but when he does, he chuckles, running his hand over your messy hair. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

And so you let it float away. 

Beneath the Ashes (I/II) - Azriel x Reader

Beneath the Ashes Part I - Azriel x Illyrian!Reader

Summary: Azriel finally finds the girl he’s been looking for all these years—his mate. But unfortunately for him, his mate happens to be an Illyrian who, upset over the fact that he’s turned his back on his own people, wants nothing to do with him. (Enemies to lovers vibes, angst)

a/n: based on this REQUEST. This is going to be a two part story because I kind of went a little too hard writing this haha. Thank you for your request and the inspiration! (Also I know a lot of you asked to be on a taglist for this story but since it’s only 2 parts I’m not gonna make one)

warnings: misogyny, sexism

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Part I of II

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Azriel was not happy, to say the least. Not as he landed on the cold, hard ground of one of the Illyrian war camps in the northern region of the mountains. He internally cursed at Cassian for still being on his mating honeymoon with Nesta because now he was being forced to do things Cass would normally be in charge of—primarily dealing with the Illyrians.

It wasn't a secret that Azriel hated Illyria and all its people. Hated that he came from such a barbaric, backwards culture.  He knew Cass was trying to do all he could to break the traditions Illyrians held, but Azriel had always told him they were a lost cause. If he could never see these damn mountains again, he'd consider it a blessing.

But, evidently, that was not a blessing he'd be allowed—at least, not until Cassian returned. For now, he was the one who was being sent out on these missions by his High Lord. 

Rhys had gotten word that some commotion was happening in the camp that had its people up in arms about something. He had asked Azriel to go check it out and who was he to turn down a request from his brother? So here he was. He was just hoping to get this over with soon. 

He had tried sending his shadows ahead of time to collect intel, but they had been acting weird ever since they returned to him. They had swarmed him with their cryptic messages.

Beautiful.

Our master must see. 

Permission to kill, master?

Needless to say, Azriel had no fucking idea what any of that meant. He had given them no such permission to kill, at least, not until he could see for himself what was transpiring here. 

He was passing by the training rings, ignoring the stares of the brutes who were working out and sparring within them, when he heard several sets of loud voices. He quickened his pace, following the voices into the residential section of the camp until he finally beheld what was causing the commotion. 

Three males were on the porch of one of the cabins, restraining a female Illyrian, who was thrashing around like a wildcat, screaming, "Let me go, you assholes!"

Another male Azriel recognized as the War Lord of the camp was standing on the steps leading up to the small cabin, arms crossed and a sneer on his face. A male next to him was holding a blubbering Illyrian toddler, whose arms were outstretched towards the female with tears pouring down her chubby cheeks. 

None of them had noticed him yet which Azriel used to his advantage. His shadows were already wailing when he let them loose. They spiraled towards the group, swirling around the males holding the female and yanking them away from her. All of their heads snapped in Azriel's direction except for the female. She tumbled to the ground but quickly scrambled to get up and rushed towards the male next to the War Lord, not even sparing a glance at what had caused the males to unleash her. 

She went to grab the little girl from the male holding her but was quickly held back by the War Lord with a growl. The War Lord twisted her arms behind her back, holding her in place, but his glare was firmly set on Azriel.

Azriel's face displayed no emotions as he stalked forward, his hand ghosting over Truth-Teller. 

"Shadowsinger," the War Lord bit out in greeting. The other males quickly got to their feet and stood at attention. 

"Silas," Azriel said, not bothering to address him properly which made the male bristle, "Care to explain what is happening here?" 

"None of your business, Shadowsinger," Silas hissed. "I have it under control."

"Doesn't seem like it," Azriel replied, coolly. 

The female was still trying to break out of Silas's grip, cursing under her breath. He tightened his hold on her, causing her to hiss in pain as he twisted her wrists in his hands. Azriel's shadows seemed to hiss in response, poised to attack as soon as Azriel gave them permission. 

Azriel's gaze fell on the female, noting the frustrated tears in her eyes. It seemed like there had been a scuffle. Her hair was half falling out of her braid, she had scrape marks on one of her cheeks, and a bruise was beginning to form on her jaw. One of her wings was flared out proudly while the other drooped to the floor at a weird angle. His fists clenched at the sight and when she finally looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, the breath was completely knocked out of his lungs. 

Despite her tattered appearance, she was single-handedly the most beautiful female he had ever laid eyes on. He stood frozen for a moment, taken aback before he shook himself out of the spell she seemed to cast on him, realizing how inappropriate of a time it was to be ogling her. 

"Let her go, Silas," Azriel commanded in a dark voice.

"I don't take orders from you," Silas spat out. "Besides, this female has been breaking the law for months now. We're taking her into custody." 

"Fuck you," the female barked out, stomping on Silas's foot. The male cursed and went to strike her on the back of her head but Azriel's shadow caught his wrist in their grasp before he could. 

"I said," Azriel growled, lowly, causing the males to shift in place, "Let her go." 

"Fine," Silas sneered, though a tiny bit of fear flashed in his dark eyes. He pushed her to the ground in front of him. She was quick to spring back to her feet and rush towards the toddler who was still screeching. The male could hardly keep hold of the little girl.

"Let the babe go, too," Azriel snapped. The male scoffed but set the little girl down. She immediately ran to the female who bent down with her arms wide open, catching the little girl and standing with her firmly on her hip. The little girl's cries quieted down and she buried her small face in the female's neck. 

"Would anyone like to tell me what the hell is going on here?" Azriel snarled, taking another step closer. Half the males mirrored his step back and he fought the urge to chuckle. 

"Like I said," Silas snapped, "This female has been breaking the law—”

“What law?” Azriel asked, firmly.

“Females are not permitted to live alone nor own houses,” Silas barked out. “She has ignored our warnings—”

“My father left the cabin to me in his will!” The female shouted, causing the small toddler in her arms to whimper. She stroked the girl's hair, shushing her. “It belongs to me.”

“I don’t care what your father promised you,” Silas growled. “It is against the law for you to be living here alone. You must surrender the cabin and go live in the barracks with the other unwed females of marrying age. Your sister will be placed under the care of the matron.” 

“Like hell I’m leaving her under the care of that female! You’re just going to have her wings clipped and force her to do grueling chores all day! She stays with me!” 

“You are out of line! I knew your father wasn’t raising the two of you right. Ever since your mother passed away—”

 “Don’t you dare say another word about my parents!”  

The War Lord lunged towards the female with a growl but Azriel shadowed between them, unsheathing Truth-Teller and pressing it against the male’s throat. 

“Lay a hand on her and I’ll gut you right here in front of all of your brutes,” Azriel snarled. 

Silas stepped back with a scoff. “You want to stick your nose in our business? Fine, then she’s your problem. I expect her out of this house by the end of today, Shadowsinger, or there will be worse consequences.” 

He stormed away, his entourage trailing behind him while sending glares to the female. Azriel waited until they were out of view before he turned to look at the female but she was gone from next to him, already walking up the steps to the cabin with the babe—her sister—on her hip.

Azriel went to follow her but she stormed into the cabin and slammed the door in his face before he could so much as utter a single word. He let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before he knocked on the door. When Rhys had mentioned a problem happening in this camp, he hadn't expected to deal with something like this. It would’ve been much easier if it had been a problem he could solve with his fists. 

When she didn't answer, he knocked harder—nearly causing the door to shutter. 

It flung open a second later, a seething female behind it. "I already told those assholes I'm not leaving. If you're here to tell me to pack up and move, you can kiss my ass."

Azriel had to stop his lips from twitching into an amused smirk at her words. He wasn't used to dealing with female Illyrians that had attitudes. Most of them kept their heads down and stayed quiet. His mother had been like that....

"I'm not here to tell you that," Azriel answered. "May I come inside?" 

She leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms and staring him down. He found himself even more amused at how she was trying to intimidate him. Most fae avoided him and his gaze. But a female, whose head barely reached his shoulders, seemed to be completely unfazed by him.  

"No, you may not," she snapped. "Anything you need to say to me can be said perfectly fine from where you're standing." 

“Can I at least bring a healer to come check out your injuries?” He eyed the scrapes on her face, the bruise and her drooping wing. Azriel’s chest ached at the sight and anger pulsed under his skin. He wanted to turn around and go rip those males apart limb by limb for laying a hand on her.

“I don’t need your help, shadowsinger,” she spat out.

"Fine," Azriel sighed. "I was sent by the High Lord because there's been reports of someone here causing disarray. I'm going to assume that someone is you." 

She shrugged, nonchalantly, her eyes flickering between his own and the shadows swirling around him that wouldn't shut up about how beautiful she was, how brave....They were singing her praise. It confused him. His shadows had never acted like this before. 

When she failed to answer, Azriel cleared his throat, uncomfortably. “Will you answer my question?”

“Aren’t you the spymaster?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Shouldn’t you be able to gather intel yourself and not rely on a lowly Illyrian female?”

“A lowly Illyrian female?” Azriel raised an eyebrow at her crass words towards herself.

“Isn’t that how you and all the High Lord’s dogs view us?” Her tone was biting, her eyes filled with hate.

Azriel shifted, at a loss for words. He was used to being met with hostility by the Illyrians, but never usually from the females themselves. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

It was a lousy response, but he truly had no idea what to say. She scoffed, rolling her eyes at him and moved from the doorway, grasping the door. 

“Even if I could help you, I wouldn’t care enough to do so,” she snapped. “Now, if that is all, you can kindly escort yourself off my property, shadowsinger. Thank you.”

The door slammed in his face a second later.

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Azriel returned a few hours later with a letter from the High Lord in his hands. He stormed through the camp, once again ignoring all the glares sent his way. He pushed his way inside the main war tent where Silas was sitting at his desk, twirling a dagger in his hands. His dark eyes looked up at him as he walked in, narrowing.

“You’re back,” Silas said, voice dripping with disdain. “I noticed that the female has still not been relocated from the cabin.”

Azriel strode forward and slammed the letter down on his desk. Silas’s eyes dipped down to it, quickly reading the short message before he looked back up at Azriel with a sneer. “What is this?”

“A notice from the High Lord and Lady,” Azriel answered, face unreadable. “Any laws that forbid a female from living alone or owning property are hereby revoked. This repeal shall be set in motion immediately.” 

"I can read just fine, Shadowsinger," Silas snapped. "I meant what the fuck is this? Does Rhysand think he can just snap his fingers and remove laws that have been around for centuries? I refuse to allow this."

"You'll address the High Lord properly or I'll cut your tongue out for your disrespect," Azriel growled. "The High Lord and High Lady can do whatever they want. You will abide by these new laws or your title of War Lord in this camp will be revoked." 

Silas looked like he wanted to say more, a vein in his forehead pulsing, but he only tightened his hands into fists and let out a long breath. "Very well then, Shadowsinger. I assume you've already informed Y/n of this?" 

"Y/n?"

Silas smirked. "You ran to tattle on us to the High Lord and didn't even know the name of the bitch you—"

Before anything else could come out of the War Lord's mouth, Azriel stalked forward and kicked his desk over, causing both Silas and all his paperwork and trinkets to smash on the floor. The War Lord let out a pathetic gasp in fear, scrambling to his feet and pressing himself against the back of the tent.

"Talk about her like that again," Azriel snarled. "And I'll rip out your throat."

Silas quickly tried to school his composure but Azriel could still see the lingering terror in his eyes. Silas straightened out his leathers before glaring at him. "It's nice to see the Illyrian is still in you after all this time, Shadowsinger. Once a brute, always a brute—isn't that what you like to say?" 

Azriel felt his pulse spike at Silas's words. He hated being reminded that he was Illyrian, even more so being compared to the worst of them. He wasn’t even sure why such rage had sparked in him in the first place. Silas's lips twitched into a smirk as he saw the way his words striked through him. But Azriel didn't wait around to hear what else the asshole had to say, letting his raging shadows swoop him into their darkness. 

He stepped out of the shadows and onto the porch of the cabin he had been at earlier. He took several breaths, trying to calm himself before gently knocking on the door. After no one answered for a moment, he lifted his fist to knock again but the door was pulled open, leaving his hand to hover in the air. He dropped it to his side, narrowing his eyebrows as he was met with no one.

"Hewwo."

Azriel nearly jumped in fright before his gaze dropped to the toddler that stood in the doorway. It was the little girl from earlier, Y/n's sister. He swallowed harshly, eyes darting around the foyer of the cabin in hopes that her sister would pop out any second but no one came. He wasn't good with children, and wasn't used to being around them. Nyx was the only child he had ever really been around and he was still a baby. 

Azriel sighed and crouched down on his haunches, making him more eye level for the little girl. Her shoulder length hair was the same color as her sister’s, her eyes too. The resemblance between the two of them was undeniable. 

"Hello there," Azriel said as gently as he could. "Is your sister home by any chance?" 

“Mhm,” the little girl hummed, busy watching the swirling shadows all around him. 

"Do you think you can go get her for me?" 

She shook her head no, her hair bobbing with the motion. 

"Why not?" Azriel asked, keeping his voice light.

"Cause I'll get in trouble," she said with a little lisp. "Mm not 'pposed to open the door." 

Azriel smiled at her, trying to appear friendly. He was surprised that she didn't seem scared of him or his shadows, as most kids were. "Don't worry, I won't tell her you opened the door for me. It can be our little secret."

She looked to be contemplating his promise, her little nose scrunched up. One of his shadows whisked forward and started swirling around her tiny frame. To Azriel's surprise, the little girl giggled, swiping her hand around to try and catch it. 

"Suri, what are you—Get away from her!" 

Y/n came thundering down the hall, yanking her sister away from the doorframe. Azriel stood to his full height, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as she glared at him before turning to look down at her sister.

"Suri, go to your room." 

"No," Suri pouted, crossing her little arms. "I wanna play with the shadows."

Azriel's lips twitched. This was quite possibly the first time a child had ever seemed anything but scared of his shadows. It was oddly endearing. 

"Go to your room," Y/n commanded in a stronger voice. "Now."

Suri stomped her foot but did as she was told, disappearing from his view. 

"What are you doing back here?" She hissed, once her sister was gone. 

Azriel pulled out the other parchment paper he had brought with him, the same notice he had given Silas. He held it out for her. "I came to deliver this." 

She took the paper from him, glancing at him suspiciously. Azriel watched as her pretty doe eyes scanned the parchment, reading Rhysand's elegant script. To his surprise, she started to chuckle to herself. She handed it back to him, her face twisted into a mocking smirk. 

"Do you honestly think this is going to stop them from trying to kick me out of this house?" She asked him, sarcastically. His eyebrows furrowed. "I'm guessing you're going to patrol this camp for a week or two to make sure they're adhering to the notice and then you'll wipe your hands clean of this all, pretending the High Lord solved everything. But you know the day you stop showing up here, Silas will be at my doorstep." 

"I can assure you that we'll do everything we can to make sure all the WarLords follow these new laws," Azriel said, his face unreadable and his voice detached. She shook her head with a smile that lacked any warmth. “I promise you that.”

"Right," she drawled out, "Well, thank you so much for your help, shadowsinger." 

She went to shut the door but Azriel stuck his hand out, catching it before she could. His gaze fell to her drooping wing, still bent at an awkward angle. "Please, let me bring a healer to attend to your wing." 

Her wing could heal on her own. It would probably only take a day or two, but just seeing it made Azriel's chest ache. He knew the pain she must be in. 

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't pretend like you care about my wings." 

"I've broken a wing before, too," he explained. "I know how much it hurts. Please, let me help you." 

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Do you want to know the difference between my wings and your's, shadowsinger? Your wings healed. You get to fly. Mine will never heal."

Azriel's gaze dropped back to her wings, now noticing the two scars—clipped. Her wings had been clipped. His heart dropped into his stomach, rage bubbling to the surface instead.

"Who?" he growled, his voice ice cold. 

"Like I said," she bit out, "Don't pretend like you care." 

"I do care," Azriel replied, fists clenching. And it was true, he did. Wing clipping was a heinous crime, one that had been outlawed since Rhys was sworn in as the High Lord of the Night Court. Of course, sometimes the practice of wing clipping still took place in remote camps that slipped through the cracks. "Wing clipping has been forbidden since—"

"I am well aware that wing clipping is forbidden," she snapped. "But like your stupid little notice, no one cares. And the High lord and all of his cronies, you included, Shadowsinger, have made it very clear that you don't either." 

"We do care," Azriel argued. "We do. But we cannot keep watch of all the camps at all times. We rely on people reporting it—" 

"Oh, spare me from hearing your excuses," she cut him off with a growl. "Do you want to know who did this to me? Here's a clue—go look in the High Lord's desk for a letter addressed from me. I've been sending one every single day for the past six years so there's bound to be at least one still around." 

"Six...six years?" Azriel questioned, quietly. "You've been sending a letter every day for six years and not one of them was ever answered?"

Sure, Rhysand had been gone for fifty years, of course and the rest of them had been unable to leave Velaris thanks to him. Then, they had been busy with the war and didn’t have time to deal with inner court problems. But it had been two years since then and she was still sending letters. Letters looking for justice for what happened to her. Letters gone unanswered.

"Not a single one," she huffed.

"Y/n...I am so sorry—"

"Save it," she barked out. "Now, if we're done here, I'd like you to leave." 

"Please, let me help you—"

Azriel choked in surprise as something within snapped. He couldn’t breath, taking a single step back as a golden thread weaved its way through the space between him and the female standing before him. 

Before his brain could even process what just happened, the door was slammed in his face. But Azriel stood frozen on her porch. Frozen in shock because he had finally found his mate. After all these years, he had finally found the person he had been searching for. 

And she absolutely hated him. 

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

Your wing had healed enough by the next morning that you could lift it off the ground, though it was rather painful to do so. Your pride made you suck it up, not wanting to go to the healer and have anyone touch your wings. No one had laid a hand on your wings since the day they were clipped and you wanted to keep it that way.

You got ready for the day, putting on one of your mother's old white, chemise dresses. It fell to the top of your boots, swishing around your ankles. You layered a dark blue skirt over it before putting on a front lace-up corset. You grimaced as you did up the buttons under your injured wings before you tightened the corset until it fit snuggly. Lastly, you threw on a cloak. It was snowing outside today and the last thing you needed was to freeze to death.

You stepped in the hallway, the cabin quiet. You went to wake up Suri to get her ready for the day. Normally she was still asleep, so you were surprised when you heard her voice the closer you got to the door to her bedroom. 

"Bad doggy," she babbled, her voice muffled through the door. "You can't go in there." 

Your eyes widened, realizing she was talking to someone or something. You quickly slammed her door open, eyes darting around in concern. Suri jumped as her door banged open, spinning around on her bed to look at you. A small shadow wisped behind her, like it was hiding. 

"Suri?" You questioned. "Who were you talking to?" 

"Issy!" Suri sang out, jumping off her bed in her little pajamas. She still called you issy, unable to pronounce your name easily or the word sister. "The doggy came back!"

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "The what?"

The shadow darted out from behind Suri, swirling around her and causing the little girl to giggle, "Doggy!"

Your eyes narrowed. One of Azriel's shadows had not only lingered behind, but had been staying with your baby sister. You felt your pulse spike with anger. As if it could sense your emotions, the shadow stopped swirling around and instead pressed itself on the floor like it was bashful and guilty. 

You scoffed, "Go back to your master! We don't want you here." 

The shadow wisped upwards, disappearing through the ceiling. A realization had you clenching your fists. Suri pouted. "Issy, you scared the doggy away!" 

"That was not a dog—" you cut yourself off with a sigh. "Suri, go brush your teeth and your hair while I get breakfast ready, okay?" 

"No," Suri grumbled, her tiny nose twitching. "Not unless you get doggy back!" 

"If you do as I say, I'll make you strawberry pancakes for breakfast." 

"Strawb'rry pancakies!" Suri squealed, the shadow momentarily forgotten. Satisfied with your deal, your sister rushed off to get ready. You left her to it, stalking outside through the backdoor. You walked a few paces away from the cabin, staring up at the roof, using a hand to block the rising sun from your eyes.

"I know you're up there!" you shouted. "Don't bother trying to hide!" 

Footsteps were heard and then there was Azriel, peering down at you from his perch on your roof. His annoyingly beautiful face was near unreadable, his hair in a bit of disarray like he'd ran his hand through it one too many times. Dark circles were underneath his hazel eyes and those familiar shadows were whirling around him.

"Why are you on my roof?" You snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. 

"Good morning, Y/n," Azriel said, his voice low and husky from disuse through the night. "I've been keeping watch. I wanted to make sure none of those males would bother you again." 

"I already told you I don't need or want your help, Shadowsinger! Now get the fuck off my roof," you snarled at him. You didn't want him here. You didn't want his stupid shadows near you or Suri either. Besides, since when did he care what happened to you or any other Illyrian females? He had turned his back on his own people the day he ran off to the High Lord's perfect little city, pretending like he wasn't one of you, wasn't Illyrian. 

Easy for him. He was a male that could get siphons to use his powers correctly, a male who hadn't been forced down and clipped. He could fly wherever he wanted, go wherever he wanted. He had money and resources you wouldn't even bother dreaming for. Azriel could wipe his hands clean and pretend like he hadn't been born in these mountains and hadn't left anyone behind to suffer when he left. 

It was one thing to escape this brutalizing, barbaric way of living. It was another to gain power and influence within the court and not bother to help your own people. Azriel was a traitor and he could go to hell for all you cared. 

You hated him for it. Hated him and all of his friends. Hated the High Lord and Lady who did little to help anyone here. Hated the General for leading your father to his death in the war. You hated them all.  

Azriel let out a quiet sigh. "I know you don't need my help, but I... I can't just leave knowing those males might come back and hurt you again. I made you a promise and I intend to keep it."

"I don't care about your stupid promises," you bit back. "Get off my roof and go home, Azriel. You're not wanted here." 

"I know you hate me and I know we've all let you down," Azriel replied, guilt shimmering in his eyes. "I'm going to do everything I can to make it up to you, Y/n. I promise." 

"Again with the promises! Your words mean nothing to me," you grumbled, tossing your hands in the air. "I don't have time for this. You know what? You want to spend all of eternity sitting on my roof, you go ahead! But I would really appreciate it if you would just fuck off!"

You didn't bother waiting for his response, storming back into your house and slamming the door shut behind you. 

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

A week went by and Azriel kept watch over you the entire time. Every day you would walk outside and peer up at the roof to see him perched there, oftentimes twirling his dagger in his hand lazily. He'd give you a small smile that looked more like a grimace and you'd roll your eyes and go back inside. 

You hated that some part of you did feel better knowing he was there. You knew his reputation and you knew none of the males in this camp would bother you as long as he was there. But it still infuriated you to see his face every morning. To see him shake the snow off his wings. To see him glare down at everyone in your camp like you were all beneath him. 

You especially hated how much Suri had come to love his shadows, always chasing them down the hallways of the cabin. You just wanted him gone. 

And it seemed like you got your wish two weeks later.

It was nighttime, the house quiet now that you'd coaxed Suri into going to bed. You were getting ready for bed yourself, dressed in a nightgown and putting out the fire when a series of soft knocks caught your attention. You frowned, pausing to look at the door. Who would be coming by at this time? Certainly no one good. 

You were debating on ignoring it when a dark shadow whisked its way underneath the door. 

"Y/n," Azriel called out. "It's just me." 

You rolled your eyes and opened your door, knowing he wouldn't leave until you did so.

"What?" You eyed him, taking in his disheveled appearance. You wondered how he survived spending the night in the snow. Just the small draft that came in from opening the door had you shivering. You hugged yourself, your hair blowing gently in the ice cold breeze.

Azriel seemed at a loss for words for a second, his eyes roaming down your body before he met your gaze. His cheeks turned a bit pink as you raised an eyebrow at him. He swallowed, his throat bobbing with the motion.

"I need to leave for a few days," Azriel finally said. "The High Lord is sending me on a small mission. I...I would feel a lot better if you'd let me take you and your sister somewhere else while I'm gone. I can set the two of you up in a nice inn or tavern in Velaris. Or you could stay at my personal residence. Just for a few days." 

You stared at him utterly perplexed. "You're...you're joking, right?" 

He shook his head looking dead serious. "No, Y/n, I'm not. I worry what will happen if I'm not here to watch over you. Please, just...just let me help. It might be nice for Suri to take her to Velaris and let her see the city." 

"You're out of your mind," you hissed. "I'm not leaving my house and certainly not with you. I already told you I don't need your help."

You went to shut the door but Azriel reached out and grabbed it before you could.

"Please, I just want to help—"

“Azriel, I have survived here on my own for the past two years since my father died in the war,” you growled. “You can't sit on my roof forever. If you truly wanted to fix things, you would've done so centuries ago. So just leave, Azriel. And don't bother coming back." 

“I do care,” Azriel pleaded. “Please—”

"I am not leaving," you snapped. "I am not letting those stupid males run me from my own home. I don't know why you even care! And stop with the whole 'I promised you' thing. You don’t even know me!”

He opened his mouth to say something else but you slammed the door shut in his face. You locked the deadbolt before letting out a sigh. 

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹──────

Azriel was worried. Worried and scared and angry. Worried that Silas and his goons would bother his mate while he was gone. Scared that they’d hurt her. And angry at just the thought of that. His chest ached as he thought about his mate and her clear hatred towards him. He couldn’t blame her for it. She was right. He had abandoned Illyria a long time ago. 

But that needed to change. He needed that to change. Not just for his mate’s sake but for her sister, for Nyx, for all the females and children whose lives were awful because of the males in charge of all their camps. 

She had been the wake up call he needed. He had the privilege of being a male in Illyria. He got to keep his wings. Got to work at having a different life then the one he was born into. His mate hadn’t had those opportunities. She was flightless, stuck to the ground and stuck in her miserable camp. 

Azriel wanted nothing more than to just grab her and her sister and get them far away from Illyria. To bring them to his apartment in Velaris where he could take care of them, could keep them safe. 

But his mate didn’t trust him. 

He would do anything to prove himself to her. Prove that he did care for her and all the other Illyrian females. No matter how much hate he was met with, he’d keep crawling back until he earned her forgiveness and a chance to give her a better life. 

She deserved that more than anything. Not just because she was his mate but because she had been so strong all these years, standing up to males twice her size and keeping her sister’s wings from being mutilated like hers had been. She didn’t choose to be Illyrian anymore than he did. 

And Gods, he wanted her to stop hating him. He wanted her to give him a chance. Just one chance to show her what she truly deserved. He had learned so much about her by just watching her this week and he knew that no other female would come close to capturing his heart and attention the way she had in just that short span of time he’d known her. 

Azriel knew he didn’t deserve her or her forgiveness. He knew she was too good for him. Too beautiful, too pure of heart. He could see that just by the way she took care of her sister and the other females in her village, despite the torment it brought her from the males. 

He let out a sigh, his eyes still locked on the camp of Autumn Soldiers. He was doing a reconnaissance mission. Beron was up to something again and these soldiers had been spotted on the coast. 

It had been two days since he left his mate and so far, nothing had been unknowingly sent down the bond except for her normal moods she fluctuated with during the day. 

He just needed to finish this mission and rush back to Velaris to drop off his report to Rhysand before he could get back to her. He normally liked to take his time on his missions but this was quite possibly the first time he ever had a want to get back faster. He was hoping to sneak into the River House and set his report on Rhys's desk without seeing anyone. He'd been ignoring and skipping family dinners for the past week and knew they'd have a lot to say about it. 

Azriel faltered as a wave of fear crashed through him. No, not fear. Terror. Unbridled terror and then pain. He sucked in a breath, nearly falling from the tree he was perched in. He was frozen for a second before he realized what was happening---his mate was in danger. 

It took him less than a second to decide to abandon the mission and shadow all the way back to the Illyrian mountains. Azriel let out a curse when he stepped out of the shadows in front of his mate's cabin to see it covered in flames. Someone had set it on fire and it was quickly crumbling under the flames. His heart was beating in his chest as he strained his ears to make sure no one was inside.

But then the most heart-stopping, chill inducing sound was heard ringing through the camp.

His mate's screams.

He sprinted towards the sound, his boots pounding against the cold hard ground. It led him to the town center where a crowd had formed, males hollering and shouting encouragement at whatever was happening. 

Azriel pushed his way through the crowd, shoving aside male after male until he reached the front. His heart dropped in his stomach as he beheld what was happening before him. 

His mate on her knees, holding up the tatters of her shirt to maintain her dignity. Silas standing behind with a whip in hand, raising it in the air again. Blood all over the white snow around his mate, staining it red. Tear streaks running down his mate's face, her beautiful face pale and twisted in pain. One of Silas's commanders holding a crying and screaming Suri, her tiny fists pounding on his chest. 

Azriel wished he knew what happened next. Wished he had this memory to look back on whenever he remembered the rage he felt. But one second he was standing there staring at his mate in horror and the next second, he was surrounded by dead bodies with Truth-teller in his hand dripping with blood. The camp had fallen silent and his ears were ringing, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. 

Suri had been dropped in the chaos and had rushed towards her sister, throwing her small arms around her neck as she sobbed.

And his mate.

His beautiful mate was staring right at him, eyes wide from witnessing the carnage he had just unleashed in this camp. Silas laid dead behind her, his shadows still ravaging his body. Slit throats, broken necks on all the other males that laid dead at his feet. But his mate was looking at him.

Azriel took a step towards her, watching her carefully as she weakly wrapped an arm around her sister's body while her eyes never left his. And he knew the mating bond had just snapped for her, could see the realization in her eyes. 

"N-no," she stammered out, her voice cracking. "No. Not you. Not...Not you! Anyone but you!"

Azriel could feel her dread pouring down the bond amidst the pain and terror she felt. He felt his heart crack in his chest, heard his shadows wailing as they too felt her pain and sorrow. 

But his broken heart at finding his mate and hearing that she didn't want him was not important in this moment. Not as his mate's eyes rolled to the back of her head and she slumped to the ground.

Azriel rushed forward, scooping both his unconscious mate in his arms and her crying sister before disappearing in a whirl of screaming shadows.