Arwen

Warnings: honestly idk if angst counts as yearning but that's all lmaoo

a/n : saw u guys wanted another part so here it is. I swear I didn't wanted to keep y'all waiting but I've been busy ASF but I'll make it up for it , pinky promise 🌸⛄

Azriel breaks without you.

Not loudly. Not in front of anyone. But the Night Court feels wrong—tilted—like something essential has been pulled from its bones. His shadows no longer drift lazily; they search. Every corridor. Every rooftop. Every place you used to stand with that quiet jealousy in your eyes, pretending you weren’t unraveling.

He ends it with Elain the moment he understands.

She reaches for him and he steps back, sharp and final.

“No,” he says, and there is no softness left for her. “It was never you.”

Elain looks stunned. Hurt. But he doesn’t care—not when the weight in his chest has a name and it isn’t hers.

It’s yours.

He finds you days later, farther than he ever thought you’d go. You look different—straighter somehow. Wounded, but healing without him. And that realization nearly drops him to his knees.

He does anyway.

“I was wrong,” he says, voice raw, unguarded. “I chose easy. I chose quiet. And I let you believe you were too much when you were everything.”

You don’t speak.

It terrifies him.

“I’ll be better,” he pleads, hands trembling at his sides like he doesn’t deserve to touch you. “I’ll choose you—out loud, every time. I don’t care who sees. I don’t care what it costs me. I’ve already lost you once and it’s killing me.”

His shadows curl toward you, desperate, familiar.

“I don’t want gentle,” he whispers. “I want you. The jealousy. The fire. The way you never looked away from what I am.”

He swallows. Hard.

“Please,” Azriel says. “Come back. Let me spend the rest of my life proving you were never something I could replace.”

And for the first time since you left—

he waits.

Because loving you means choosing you, even if you never forgive him.

Pairing: Rhys x reader

Warnings: none NGL, this is just fluff and fluff and well.. fluff ❤️🧚🏻‍♀️

a/n: HIII LOVELY PEOPLE!!! I had such a good morning so I decided to start it with a Christmas fanfic. Enjoy 🎄

Velaris is draped in snow and starlight.

Every balcony glows with faelights, every street hums with music and laughter, and the Sidra reflects it all like a ribbon of silver. The city feels warmer tonight—softer—like it knows it’s a holiday.

You’re standing on the balcony of the House of Wind, wrapped in a thick sweater, when arms slide around your waist.

“Cold?” Rhysand murmurs, chin resting on your shoulder.

“Only a little,” you lie.

He chuckles and snaps his fingers. Warmth blooms instantly, gentle as a kiss. His wings unfurl behind you, blocking the wind and drawing you closer until your back is pressed to his chest.

“You’ve been suspiciously quiet all evening,” he says. “Usually you’re the first to drag me into festivities.”

“I like watching,” you reply, gazing down at Velaris. “Everyone’s happy.”

“Mm,” he hums. “And here I thought I was the reason.”

You laugh, turning in his arms. His violet eyes are bright tonight, reflecting the lights, the snow—and you. For once, he isn’t wearing his High Lord mask. Just a simple black sweater, hair loose, smile soft.

“Come inside,” he says. “I have something for you.”

The House guides you to the sitting room, where a tree—tall and shimmering with ornaments shaped like stars, moons, and tiny wings—stands near the fireplace. You stop short.

“Rhys,” you breathe. “It’s beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you,” he replies easily, then hands you a small box. Midnight blue, tied with silver ribbon.

You open it slowly. Inside rests a delicate necklace: a tiny star cradled between crescent moons, glowing faintly with magic.

“So you always carry a piece of the night with you,” he says, quieter now. “Even when I can’t be there.”

Emotion tightens your throat. “I love it.”

He fastens it around your neck, fingers lingering at your skin. When he looks at you again, his expression is tender—unguarded.

“Merry Christmas,” Rhys whispers.

You rise onto your toes and kiss him, slow and warm, tasting peppermint and magic and home. His wings fold around you, the fire crackles brighter, and outside, snow continues to fall.

Above Velaris, stars burn a little more brilliantly.

And for the High Lord of the Night Court, there is no greater gift than this—

Azriel x reader ( Elain being the ho she is and ruining everything 🙄😤)

Warning: angst , jealousy, the other woman, feeling of betrayal etc

a/n : Hellllooo there ! I'm Arwen and after you read this probably your enemy 😭. Before you try to strangle me , I just had to write this . I saw an edit with the song lacy oh lacy from Olivia Rodrigo and it gave me the perfect idea. Before u say oh Elain could never . IDCCC . I passionately hate her. So have fun reading! I suggest you get a glass of water and some tissues as well...you'll need it

You hate that jealousy feels so quiet.

It doesn’t scream or rage—it sits. It settles in your chest every time Elain smiles at Azriel and he softens like the world hasn’t carved him hollow. Every time his shadows lean toward her instead of you, like they’ve learned better taste.

Elain never has to try.

She just exists—gentle, fragile, luminous—and Azriel watches her like she’s something sacred. Like she might break if the world breathes too hard.

You burn beside her.

Too sharp. Too loud. Too aware of the way he no longer looks at you first.

Once, you catch Elain glancing at you while her fingers rest on his sleeve. Her smile is sweet. Innocent.

Calculated.

Something ugly twists in you, and you hate yourself for it—but you hate her more. For pretending she doesn’t know. For taking up space that used to be yours and calling it kindness.

That night, you leave.

No goodbye. No scene. Just absence.

It takes Azriel three days to realize.

Three days before his shadows search for you and find nothing. Three days before silence settles in where your presence used to be. Three days before he understands that what he thought was safe was never love.

Elain notices the shift.

She reaches for him—and he pulls away.

Too late.

He finds your room empty. Your scent gone. The space beside him colder than it’s ever been. Regret claws through him, vicious and unrelenting.

He should have chosen you before he let someone else convince him you were replaceable.

Elain wanted something gentle.

He lost something real.

And this time—