#accident

Hey guys, so um I got in a really bad accident today. Like I rolled my jeep twice on the highway and somehow…I’m alive and have no head injuries. But I am insanely cut up, bruised and frankly traumatized. I’m gunna be out of work for the foreseeable future and I need support. I hate asking for help but I need it. If you can share please do 💞

Pairing: Azriel x Reader (She/her pronouns used)

Word Count: 10.5k

Read Part 2 and Part 2.5 here!

Summary: A one-night stand with Prythian’s most notorious spy leads to an avalanche of life changing events. 

Warning/Notes: Hoping to make this a mini-series if people are interested! Some talk of anxiety, smutty/adult content, I think it can be categorized as fluff, but there will definitely be some angst eventually because I can’t help myself. Please let me know what you think and if you’d be interested in more parts! Thank you.

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The glimmering purple liquid burned as it raced down her throat, shot number–who even knew– as her hips swayed back and forth, the upbeat music acting as a guide. 

Heat danced across her flesh, pirouetting on every inch of her skin, as her friends pressed closely around her, dancing the night away. Lena–her twin sister, had been the one responsible for tonight. When she learned that her sister had been accepted to intern under the best healer in Velaris, well, she’d wanted to celebrate by taking Y/n out and–apparently– getting her laid, or very drunk, whichever happened first.

She hadn’t given much of a fight, it was rare that she got to enjoy a night out. Usually, she sequestered herself away in her own corner of the world studying herbal remedies and medicinal practices, or doing research on all sorts of plants and carnivorous insects.

“We need more alcohol,” Mari– one of her good friends, called out, not waiting for a response before dragging Lena behind her as they headed for the bar. Y/n watched as the small, fearless seamstress flipped her hair over her shoulder, exposing a small constellation tattoo, and smiled seductively at the bartender. Laughing slightly, Y/n spun on her heels, grateful that her friends were enjoying the night as much as she was.

Vasilisa, her sweet roommate, quickly filled in the gap the other two had left. Smiling softly at a male before she twirled once, the delicate glimmering mesh of her skirt chasing after her thighs. 

“The High Lord’s here tonight,” she giggled, throwing her arms around Y/n’s neck as she danced with her, but kept eye contact with the male just out of view. Perhaps alcohol was, in-fact, not what they needed more of. “And, he looks delicious.”

“He’s mated, Lesa, probably best to pick some other poor soul.” Despite the oddity of Lesa’s drunkenness, she couldn’t help but warm at her friend’s state. 

A small, devilish grin plastered across the girl’s face as she quickly shifted gears, “What about the shadowsinger? He’s not mated and Cauldron, he is scrumptious.”

At this point, Y/n would definitely have to be the one to stop drinking. With Mari and Lena still chatting up the bartender, more drinks appearing and disappearing before they ever left the counter; Lesa all but grinding against her as she mentally undresses the High Lord and the Spymaster of the Night Court; and Peri’s complete disappearance once a beautiful female had shown interest; it was a safe bet that she’d need to make sure everyone got home safely tonight.  

“I have an even better idea, Y/n,” Lesa squealed, her toes bouncing as she gripped both of her arms, big doe eyes pleading. “You should ask him to dance!” Lesa seemed so happy with herself, but she had to hold back the cringe that fought desperately to claw its way free.

She must not have done a good enough job hiding it, because Lesa pouted, “You don’t think he’s hot?” 

Y/n blanched, “No, of course I think he’s hot. I mean he's very tall, and gorgeous, and I like the way his shadows surround him, and I can only imagine what they can do in–” her cheeks flooded with heat that she couldn’t blame on the atmosphere. Good gods, she needed to reattach her tongue to her brain. Clearing her throat, and ignoring Lesa’s growing smirk, “that’s not the point.”

She laughed awkwardly, hoping to change the subject. She certainly wouldn’t be asking him to dance. The male took her breath away, she’d never be able to speak to him, not without clamming up or dying on the spot– the latter more preferrable. 

It was entirely possible that she was a little obsessed with the male, but in a ‘I’ll adore you from behind the scenes and never, ever do anything about it,” kind of obsession. Totally healthy. Not at all going to bite her in the ass.

She just admired him, and well, all of the Inner Circle. They did so much to keep the Night Court safe and an enjoyable place to live. 

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t dance,” Peri spoke as she finally made her reappearance. She took one of the shots that Lena handed her as she and Mari finally made their back, as well. “Besides, you're out of his league,” the purple haired faerie said, shooting her a wink. 

Of all of her friends, Peri understood the anxiety that lingered beneath Y/n’s bones the best. The circumstances that she and Lena had grown up in– they hadn’t been the best and it followed them even now, nearly one hundred years into their lives.

She smiled back at her friend, spinning Lesa into Mari’s arms, the girl gasping at the sudden movement, Lena catching the two barely before they tumbled. Y/n slung an arm around Peri’s shoulders, the two swaying back and forth as she thanked the Mother for her friends.

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The night lived on, the girls tapering off to dance with all kinds of people, the lights switching from flickering rainbow rays, to disco, to low set golden glows. Y/n let the euphoria from adrenaline and excitement drive her body– she had stopped drinking what had to have been hours ago, but she still felt the light thrum in her limbs that made her feel like a cloud, made her feel untouchable. 

By the time midnight rolled around, her feet had started aching in the best ways, her thighs felt like they were on fire, and she could feel dobs of sweat beading her brow. She had danced with her fair share of men and women, but no matter how many times Lena shot her a ‘go for it’ look or Mari gave her a thumbs up, she never lingered for more than a dance.

With all her friends occupied, she made her way out the back exit, needing some fresh air and a glance at the stars. Stargazing had always been a source of comfort for her, it was her mother’s favorite thing to do– and Velaris is the best place to do it. The beautiful dark sky was mixed with deep blues and unnerving black hues that made the stars shimmer like diamonds.

She sighed, resting her back against the brick wall of an alley, taking comfort from the cool texture against her bare skin. Her eyes stayed glued to the sky, but she jolted when she heard a small can knock over a little deeper into the alley. She stood frozen, too confused, and a little scared, to do anything other than watch.

Her breath escaped her quickly, though. She watched a small black tendril of smoke slither out from behind the bin, moonlight gleaming on the silver can as more shadows revealed themselves around it.

They made their way towards her, some of them wrapping around her ankles and running the length of her arms, gooseflesh following swiftly after them. She giggled softly, cooing at the adorable things.

“What are you doing here?” She whispered, utterly enamored by the way they moved, the cool tenderness that they left in their wake. She’d blame the alcohol for her utter lack of awareness, despite feeling completely sober, she was sure it was the only explanation for how she missed their master entirely. “You’re quite cute.”

“That’s not typically how people describe them,” a deep, rough voice spoke from behind her. 

She wasn’t proud of what happened next, but, in her defense, she panicked and instinct took over. 

She screeched, her heels spinning swiftly as she threw her fist at the intruder behind her, all of her small, but mighty force put behind it.  

In hindsight, should she have been able to make an informative guess on who it was? Absolutely. If she had taken even a moment to look at her surroundings: the creatures she was speaking to, or even the bar that the alley they currently stood in lay attached to– she may have chosen a better way to react.

Still, she tried desperately to hold onto all of her brothers’ teachings, it had been years since she’d properly trained or had taken part in any sort of physical combat, so she was a little rusty. 

Her fist collided with a skin, hard. She hadn’t realized how tall the male before her was, her head barely reaching his shoulders, her fist vibrating where it hit the palm of his hand. 

He hadn’t even flinched. A small smile tilting the side of his mouth. She stood frozen, her wrist now encased by a warm, calloused hand as he twisted his grip, gently.

Their eyes locked, his warm hazel gaze taking complete control of her being. Her mouth popped open a little, her eyes wide as she took in the beautiful specimen before her. The quirk of his lips disappeared almost immediately, but he still wore a soft look on his face, it was obvious he was doing his best to not be intimidating. He dropped her wrist without complaint and took a large step backwards, his hands clasping behind his back as he dragged his wings in behind him, making them look smaller.

He cleared his throat, the look on his face giving nothing away, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Her first thought? That he could startle her whenever he wanted to because he’s breathtaking. His short curls lay in dark wisps along his forehead, his eyes glazed with a bewitching twinkle, and his clothes clung tightly to his muscles, nothing left to the imagination. She could see the swirls of his tattoos as a few sat slightly in view beneath his sleeves and open collar.

Finally, finally, she found her voice, it cracked, “Wo-ow, you’re beautiful.” His eyes widened and his mouth hung agape for a short moment, shadows dancing along his shoulders as they thrummed with what looked like giddy-delight. 

Cauldron. Boil. Her.

She cursed herself inwardly, why the hell had she said that? She needed to get out of here, fast. 

“I mean– you aren’t– I’m–” words failed to form, and he just stood and watched, mesmerized, as she floundered, as she crashed and pathetically burned. “I’m so sorry, for punching–oh gods– and for the beautiful–” swallow, “–thing… uh– i’m just gonna,” She pointed her thumb to the door she came through.

“I don’t think–” He started, but quickly stopped when she swore, pulling on the door handle that didn’t so much as budge. She pulled harder, over and over again as embarrassment to the nth degree began washing over her.

She groaned, allowing her upper body to fall against the large door, her forehead resting against the cool metal. Why do these things happen to me?

To all his credit, the shadowsinger just stood back and watched as she slowly unraveled, utter amusement dancing in his eyes. He had never seen anyone fumble so entirely when trying to speak to him. It intrigued him. It certainly had him thinking of ways to make that blush bloom across her cheeks again. 

“Are you alright?” He finally asked, cutting off her repetitive mumblings. Her gaze snapped to his, her head still firmly planted against the door. 

“I should have drank more,” she said to herself before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “I’m peachy,” Was how she responded to him, “thanks for not, you know, killing me for punching you.”

He mouthed the word peachy, as if he had never heard it before, his brows crinkling in the most attractive way. Gods, she really needed to quit staring at him.

She started her walk towards the front of the alley, doing her best to sidestep the large male. He merely turned, allowing her to pass him with plenty of room between them, but he did follow her as she made her way to the front.

“I would hardly call that a punch,” he spoke, a teasing lilt to his tone, “Although, you do move fast, so that’s at least something.”

She gawked at him, “You startled me, if I had been ready, I definitely would have hit you.” She proclaimed, her eyes catching on the shadows that had reattached themselves to her. She smiled at them.

She missed the way Azriel stopped breathing, his gaze snatching onto the smile she gave his shadows, the way she looked at them as if they were something amazing, something worth acknowledging.

He regained his composure, doing his best to shove down his growing need to hear her voice, her laugh. And gods, he wanted to see that blush again, too. 

“An opponent isn’t going to give you the time to get ready,” he pointed out, both of them stopping as they reached the edge of the alley, real life a mere step away.

She narrowed her eyes, calculation and mirth swirling around, “Why exactly were you in the alley anyways?”

He shrugged, a casual gesture that made her heart flutter wildly. She watched as his wings shifted with the motion, the moonlight illuminating them in an ethereal glow, she wanted to reach out and touch them.

Nope.

She held her hands tightly to her sides. If she knew anything about Illyrians, it was that their wings were sacred, and people tended to lose limbs when they touched them uninvited. 

“My shadows were curious about something, I merely followed their lead.” He neglected to mention that they’d slithered to the alley with the pull of a hundred Illyrian men–hell bent on getting their master the.

“There wasn’t anything special in the alleyway,” she spoke, confused. Certainly an old garbage can and littered papers wouldn’t have caught the attention of the spymaster's shadows, would it?

His head tilted sideways, taking her in as if she were a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve. As if he were trying to read if she was being truthful, intentional. Whatever he found seemed to satisfy him, though as he lifted his hand, a shadow weaving its way around him, 

“You’re in the alleyway.”

His voice had a low timbre in it, he spoke quietly but firmly, his eyes never shifting from hers as she swallowed. 

She felt her cheeks heat, the warmth bloom across her chest as he looked at her, not a single fiber of her being going unnoticed by the male. No wonder so many people cowered in his presence.

Shaking her head, “I’m nothing special,” her hand flew to the back of her head, nervously patting her hair down as she awkwardly smiled his way. “Maybe they just needed a change in scenery,” she offered.

He hummed, “May I ask why you were in the alley? You seemed to be having fun on the dance floor.” She balked. He had seen her? Her mind had to be suffering from whiplash because there was no way this was actually happening. 

“I just needed some air, to watch the stars for a bit.” When he hummed again, she realized that he must not be much of a talker, but the silence she found them in wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable, it felt… safe, kind of like a fresh breeze of air on a hot day, or a warm bath after a hard day’s work. And, she supposed it made sense that he would talk much, he was the Spymaster, after all.

“I’m Y/n, by the way,” He repeated her name back, a thick, intoxicating sound as it fell from his lips. His tongue flicked across his top lip as if he were chasing the word. She wanted to chase the movement, her eyes tracking it like a hound. 

“Azriel,” he offered back, though both of them knew it was just a formality. Of course she already knew his name. 

“Would it be alright if I bought you a drink?” Did she hear a nervous pulse in his words? “To make up for startling you and interrupting your star gazing?”

She froze, did he actually just ask her out? Well, not out, but to have a drink with him? These were the kinds of things she needed her friends around for, how in the Mother's name was she supposed to know what to do. 

She thought about Lesa, and what she’d said earlier about asking him to dance. Lesa, despite her alcohol consumption, was usually the most leveled headed of them. It’s what was going to make her a great healer one day. She knew about the kind of men Y/n typically found herself gravitating towards. She knew that it was unlikely she’d ask anyone to dance unless they gave her a reason to. Did she know something about Azriel that she didn’t?

She’d have to remember to bring it up tomorrow, once Lesa had her head on straight again. But, at that moment, she decided that she could do this. She could be spontaneous and have fun. 

“I would love that,”

Besides, it was one drink, what could possibly happen?

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One drink had turned into two, and two had quickly turned into three the longer the night went on. She and Azriel had danced for what felt like hours. Eventually they’d found their to a table, just the two of them talking and laughing, sharing stories. She did most of the talking, the male drawing words and memories out of her with no problem at all. He always hummed and asked questions at the right times, he listened in a way that made her think he was far too interested in her, but it was…nice. 

She hadn’t even realized how late it had gotten, but as she did a sweep of the room, she realized a lot of the patrons had left for the night. Even Mari and Lesa had waved at her as they left. 

Her gaze locked with her twin’s from across the dance floor, she slowly sipped from a pink drink, Peri sitting at the bar with her as they chatted. Lena raised a brow at Y/n. She didn’t need twin telepathy to know what she was asking, are you coming home with us, or going home with him?

She sent a glare her sister's way, knowing Lena had a preference for which option she chose. Honestly, Y/n knew better, though. Ignoring her sister only spurred her on. Which was why, now, Lena and Peri were making their way to the two of them, a shit eating grin on the former's face.

“Y/n,” She cooed, sitting down on her chair and placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. 

Azriel’s eyes snapped to Lena’s, then quickly to Peri, assessing and putting information together that she’d slowly given him over the past few hours.

“Peri and I are leaving, we have that very important thing to do tomorrow, as you know,” A very ‘subtle’ wink, “We don’t want to leave without you.” She pouted. “It’s so dangerous out there.”

Before Y/n could respond, Azriel cut in smoothly, “I could take you home.” The blush she’d been trying so hard to keep down all night ignited beneath her skin. 

Peri rolled her eyes as Lena clapped, “What a wonderful idea, who better to get her home safely than the Night Court’s Spymaster, himself.” 

She could have sworn Azriel smiled into his drink, clearly catching on to Lena’s antics. She shot an apologetic face towards him. He merely smiled at her, causing her breath to hitch.

“You don’t have to do that, I’m sure you’re busy.” She spoke quietly. Her eyes casting down toward the near-full drink she’d been sipping for the last hour. 

“I’m not. And, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” All three women stared at him, the sheer honesty in his tone casting them in stone. The fact that he wanted to spend more time with her and didn’t care that she and her friends knew. It started chipping away at the obsession, and started morphing into something much scarier.

Lena made a noise mixed between utter fascination and ooey-gooey sweetness. The arm hooked around her shoulders was used to swing her around swiftly, bringing her eye to eye with her twin, the startling gray color of their eyes meeting her own. 

“Make good choices,” She waggled her brows and flicked the zipper of her top down a millimeter more, revealing more cleavage.

“Lena!” She hissed. Hands automatically moving to cover herself. She didn’t zip it back up.

She winked, backing up to a laughing Peri. “good choices” she merely mouthed. 

Y/n looked towards Azriel, afraid of what he’d think of this whole show. Her eyes widened, he had a pink blossoming along his cheeks, a bashful expression briefly taking hold of his face before it turned into something more–deeper. 

As Lena turned towards the exit, her arm grappling Peri’s, she faced Azriel, “If anything happens to her, if she comes back with so much as a scratch,” she spoke cooly, “I’ll gut you from scrote to throat, capiche?”

She tossed a clean napkin at her sister, “I’m fine, go.”  Horrified that she had just threatened the freaking spymaster of the Night Court. One of the most infamous fae warriors in Prythian.

Something like appreciation flashed in his eyes, though. Instead of threatening her back, or using his title against her, he merely reached his hand out–covered in a black leather glove.

“I’ll protect her with my life.” Lena stood straighter, hesitantly reaching for his hand to shake it. Despite the glove, some sort of magic seemed to breathe new life into the world. An ebony vine wrapped its way along Lena’s wrist, bleeding flowers encasing the thin band, a matching one covering his own. 

She stared at their wrists, surprise flickering through her. Weren’t those kinds of promises…permanent? Why in the gods' names would he make a promise like that? He hardly knew her. Then again, she supposed it was sweet and comforting that a member of her home’s Inner Circle cared so much about the safety of their citizens.

Because that’s definitely all this could be about. 

Her sister and friend left quickly after that. And not long after that, Azriel paid the tab– refused to accept any of her money– and had wrapped his jacket around her shoulders. The fabric drifted over her arms, completely engulfing her frame and covering her thighs half-way.

She found herself close to Azriel, clinging to his warmth, as they made their way down the cobblestone street. Moon glimmering against the stone and street signs, casting the area in a deep, evanescent glow. 

Azriel walked at a slow pace, no doubt to keep up with her heeled steps. One of his hands hooked into his pocket, the other one – the one closest to hers– lay still at his side. She had a sneaking suspicion it was in case she decided to hold his hand. Heat blossomed in her stomach at the thought.

Lena had told her to make good choices. She had no doubt that meant to have fun, to allow herself some flexibility. She wasn’t sure of much when it came to this male, but she knew that she liked him and everything she’d learned about him tonight.

She knew she didn’t want the night to end, not yet.

“Will you take a detour with me?” She asked abruptly, effectively ending the calm silence. She could smell the salty air of the Sidra, a cool air rushing its way through the strands of her hair, his shadows stuck to her like sweetgum balls. 

He looked ethereal in the light of the moon, his unmatched beauty enrapturing her wholly. She hadn’t been able to look away from him for more than a moment the whole night.. His canines flashed briefly as he smirked, and then he hooked his pinky in hers, the gloves he had been wearing all night smooth against her skin.

She laughed as he spun her around, her heels clicking against the sidewalk.

“Lead the way,”

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They walked along the colorful sidewalk, crystal water filling the Sidra, the waves lulling softly in the calm of the night. 

Azriel had started opening up, slowly, telling her about his family, his job– or at least a pg version– and his interests. She clung to his every word, so grateful that he’d been willing to share parts of his private life. Their hands slowly grew closer, fingers finding their way together, his hand squeezing hers when it finally rested in his. 

She smiled softly at him, his eyes catching on her mouth. Thankfully, he couldn’t see the blush that always appeared when she looked at him too long. The whipping wind blasting her cheeks with frigid, frost coated air. 

Looking up at the stars glittering in the sky, “My mother loved the stars,” she spoke softly. She admired a mixture of constellations and a magical aurora– beautiful hues of golden orange, blushing pink, and enchanted, deep purple blending together. 

“She used to say that the stars were proof that the small moments in life are just as magnificent as the big ones.” 

She watched the stars, but he watched her. 

Meeting his hazel eyes, close enough to see the warm, green flecks that dusted his irises, she couldn’t help but move closer. Later, in the comfort of her home, she might say it’s because the wind was brutal, and his body offered her more heat than his jacket ever could. But, right here, right now? She simply wanted to follow that tugging in her chest, a sensation that led her straight to him.

His hand slowly drifted up her, following her outline before it settled against her cheek. He swallowed, “She sounds like a very wise woman,” He finally answered. His thumb lazily rubbed the skin along her jaw, allowing her ample opportunities to stop him if she wished.

She did not wish. In fact, she wanted to feel his skin against hers, and she couldn’t do it by holding his hands.

Instead she raised onto her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around her middle, holding her steady against him. “What are you up to?” He murmured, a sweet look on his face as he moved a piece of her hair from her face. “Gods, you’re beautiful,” her body stiffened, he hadn’t meant to speak that aloud, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret it, not when she smiled like that.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” He vowed, his eyes glued to her lips, he only waited long enough for her to nod her agreement before his lips descended onto her.

She didn’t have even a moment to freak out, to second-guess, because one second he was leaning into her and the next his lips were on hers and–

 She. Stopped. Breathing. 

His lips were warm and soft, but also firm and perfect. The hand that was attached to the arm not securing her to him found its way to her cheek, cupping her softly. Her hands wound their way into his hair, a sigh escaping her as he kept kissing her, his tongue flicking across her lower lip.

This man didn’t simply kiss, he devoured, he took everything that she offered and more. His tongue danced along her mouth, and when his fingers grappled the ends of her hair, tugging just-so, she gasped, her mouth opening just enough for him to slip in. 

He deepened the kiss.

The small noises she made were consumed by his lips as they bubbled in the back of her throat, her legs somehow winding up around his waist, holding her up so he no longer had to bend so far. And through it all, he kept kissing her. Both his hands holding her back to keep her right where he wanted her. His tongue tangled with hers as his shadows ran along her neck, her exposed back, and her legs. The cool sensations doing unholy things to her senses as they mixed with the pure male heat of him.

Her hands pulled on his silky strands, pressing her chest, somehow, even further into his. Her body angled more above him, as he groaned, a sound she swore she could live off of. His canines flashed, a smirk dancing along his lips before she crashed her mouth back onto his, she wanted to taste every bit of him. His minty breath, the sweat beading his brow, the simple taste of his skin–could be her undoing. 

And oh golly, her skin tingled, her lips dancing with anticipation as he pulled away. His forehead falling against hers, his eyes so dark she wondered if she’d imagined the hazel of them all throughout the night. 

Their breaths came out in soft spurts, the cold night air bringing them to life around them as they stayed close. Her legs still wrapped around him, holding her to him, careful of his wings that seemed to flare whenever he lost some of his undiluted control.

“That was– you are–” He stopped, his lips trailing a path from her neck to her jaw and up her cheek before landing on the corner of her lips. Those glorious teeth scraping along her skin. She wanted him to bite her, to leave marks so she could remember this in the morning.

Maybe tomorrow–or for the rest of her life, let’s be honest– she’d daydream about how she’d turned this man into a puddle of words with just her mouth, gods knew he’d done that to her. But, right now? Right now she wanted nothing more than to feel more of him. To feel all of him.

“Can I take you home?” His voice came out breathy, still pressing sweet kisses along her skin, anywhere he could find. 

“That depends,” she cooed, moving her head back and baring her neck so he had better access. “My home or yours?”

She could feel that smile as it lifted his lips, his soft kisses on her throat making her lose any sense of understanding.

He rephrased, “Come home with me?” 

And how could she possibly say no to that?

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Azriel’s room was everything she could have pictured it being. Dark, neat, and not a single item that screamed “I’m Azriel, this is my space,” unless she counted the wall of knives and weapons. But she imagined that had more to say about how he was a spymaster, not the man himself.

They’d come in through his balcony, the glass doors pristinely shining as the moonlight cast onto them, giving his room the same aura as its dweller– dark and mysterious, but oh, so sexy. 

His bed lay in the middle, large enough to house someone with wings, and the dark linens neatly placed atop them were calling her name. A crackling fire lit the stone laden fireplace on the far end, books stacked neatly on a desk that was filled with papers and organized writing quills. 

She didn’t have time to dwell further on her surroundings, though. Not as Azriel pressed his front to her back, the evidence of his arousal chanting her name like a prayer. His gloves had come off, his calloused hands tracing the skin on her arm slowly.

“Are you still with me?” He whispered, his teeth grazing the tip of her ear. Shivers ran down her spine as she spun towards him, her hands finding their place on his forearms. 

“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes already on his lips. She had no qualms with what this was. She knew. This was one night. One amazing, probably will ruin sex with anyone else ever again, night. And she was okay with that. Lena had told her to have fun, to make good choices, and she couldn’t imagine what was a better choice than this. Than him.

His lips quirked up, lust pooling in his deep hazel, near black eyes. As he leaned down, his hands found their way to the zipper on her dress as his mouth met her shoulder, a trail of saliva following her bone. 

Her hands trailed up his arms– right over his new tattoo, and then skated down his front, finding the band of his pants, she slipped them under his shirt. A pleased sound coming from his throat as her hands travelled the length of his torso, the beautifully crafted skin hot beneath her needy touch. 

In no time her dress pooled at her feet, leaving her in nothing but a cute deep sapphire lace bralette set– she thanked every god that she had thought to put on a matching set. Her heels were already discarded somewhere she couldn’t bring herself to care about right now. Not as his lips finally made their way back to hers. He tasted her wholly, his large hands touching her everywhere, her back, her arms, her stomach, her ass. She preened at his attention.

“You’re beautiful,” he said again, his lips never leaving hers as her hands finally got tired of their fabric confines. “Fucking gorgeous,” he growled. As he lifted her without absolutely no effort at all, depositing her softly onto his bed as he leaned over her. His dark locks falling over his face, she couldn’t stop her hand from pushing them back, his beautiful face cast in soft golden light from the fireplace. 

He leaned down, his lips brushing hers as his hand found her breast. Her back arched as he plucked her nipple with his fingers through the thin fabric. His other hand massaging her other breast languidly. Then his mouth, his magnificent mouth, fell to the fabric as he sucked her in. She couldn’t stop the noises that came out of her as he continued his ministrations. All she could do was throw her head back, hold his hair in her grip, and hope she didn’t topple off the edge of this world. 

“Azriel,” she breathed, “please,” her eyes blown out with lust as the heat in her belly stirred and writhed with every touch, every look.

He smirked, flashing those canines she had an unhealthy fascination with, “Already begging and I haven’t even touched you the way I’ve been wanting to all night,” His tongue flicked between her breasts as he unhooked the small clasp in front, letting them spill out. 

Any other time she may be embarrassed, or try and cover, but one look at Azriel, and she knew she didn’t need to. He looked at her like he wanted to ravish her, like he could live off of touching her.

“You’re breathtaking, I thought it when I saw you dancing, and the Mother knows I can’t stop thinking it now,” he spoke, such utter candor in his voice–just like when he’d told her there was nowhere else he’d rather be– it made her breath catch. 

She imagined that Azriel was not an easy male to get over. So she’d just need to get under him.

A blush took over her cheeks, but she managed a breathy, “Off,” a plea, really. As she tried to lift his shirt. He chuckled, a sexy, deep sound that went straight to her core. The next moment his shirt was off, and then somehow, his pants. 

She was sure saliva had to be coming out of her mouth because this man. He was a work of art, he definitely bordered on an eight pack, small cuts and scars lined his torso and only made him more attractive. His golden skin looked iridescent in the light, his tattoos swirling all around his arms and chest. Shadows danced along her peripheral vision, not quite touching, but observing as if they wanted to. She wanted them to.

She felt her tongue as it involuntarily flicked her bottom lip, her teeth catching it in the same place. Azriel didn’t miss the motion, his eyes turning a molten color that set every nerve in her body aflame. Her hands were everywhere, running the length of his torso, his sides, she steered clear of his wings, but damn, she’d be dreaming of them for years to come. They splayed out magnificently as he loomed over her, neither of them touching the bed, they cocooned her in a way that made her feel safe, and guarded.

They were both in only their underwear now, “We can stop whenever you want,” he spoke softly, earnestly. His gaze caught hers to emphasize that he meant it, if she wanted to stop–despite being able to feel him against her leg, feel how much he wanted her– he’d back off, bring her home. And well, that gave her the warm and fuzzies, and only cemented how much she wanted this. Wanted him.

Sitting up on her elbows, her hair falling over her shoulders, she hooked one of her legs around his waist, catching him off guard as she repositioned them. Now she sat astride him, her hands landing on his pecs as his hands found her hips. 

She leaned forwards, her breasts flush with his bare chest as she kissed her way down his body. She started near his ear, whispering, “I want to hear more about what you’ve wanted to do to me all night,” she bit down, just slightly, catching his lobe. Then she kissed his jaw, a trail of warm kisses down his neck, his chest, his abs, his navel. Her hand found its way to his boxers, the tight black fabric hiding very little of his very large member. A little part of her wondered how this would work, she was not a virgin by any means, but it had been a good couple of months, and he– gods, he was impressive in all the best ways.

The sound that came out of him was purely male as she continued her movements, his hands tightening enough that she knew they’d leave bruises. Good. She wanted to remember this–in any way she could. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he said it so low she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right, but then he was sitting up, his arms wrapping around her middle to keep her from toppling off of him. 

His lips met hers as he ground into her, their underwear left little to the imagination and she stopped caring about the noises that came out of her. She just let herself go, let him take her fully.

His mouth met her nipple, his teeth plucking softly, but so sweetly. Her back bowed into him, her hands flying to his hair as she held on for dear life. He suckled and nipped and licked her breasts, the heat pooling low in her belly as she continued to grind on him. 

“Oh, gods–Az,” she spluttered, doing her best to hold on to what little scrap of sanity she had left. He didn’t bend, though, no–he flipped her over, her back hitting the plush mattress once more, her ass coming to kiss the edge of the bed as he kneeled on the floor before her.

Her knees fell open on either side of his body, the cool air rushing against her as his shadows locked themselves around her body. One wrapped around waist, and two on her ankles, keeping her in the exact position their master wanted. 

His eyes caught hers, only for a brief moment, he flashed the sexiest grin and then bent down, placing a soft, reverent kiss to her center over her panties. And somehow, despite all that they’d already done, that was the sexiest, most obliterating part of this whole ordeal. 

Her body tried to move, tried to get closer as he chuckled, clearly enjoying her struggles against his helpers as they kept her locked in place. 

“Now, now, pretty,” he cooed, “Be a good girl and keep making all those sweet noises for me,” Oh, she so wanted to be his good girl, she wanted to be his everything right now. 

Slowly, so freaking slowly, he pulled her panties down, baring her fully to him. He didn’t waste any time, and she cried out as his mouth finally closed over her most intimate part. He kissed and licked and suckled her into nothingness. His tongue flattening over her, his lips catching that sensitive nub and sucking, then his tongue was inside of her. He groaned at her taste, his hands splaying across her thighs and holding on. She could feel him grinding himself against the mattress, chasing any sort of friction he could without losing himself entirely.

She was careening towards that edge so swiftly, she truly stood no chance once he started adding fingers. He filled her with one, his tongue never letting up on its pace as he glided his digit in and out of her smoothly. His eyes met hers, and whatever he saw, he must have liked, because then he was adding a second finger, that wicked smile on display as he licked one stripe straight up her center.

Her body tried to buck, to chase the feeling but she couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything except hold onto the mattress for dear life. 

She chanted his name over and over, it seemed to be the only word she could remember. Especially as he added a third finger, and they curled in just the right place, as his tongue swirled around her center, his teeth grazing the flesh. 

She came so hard, her legs were visibly shaking where they lay sprawled apart on the bed. His shadows finally relented as she arched, her hands immediately finding his hair, his shoulders, anything of his she could touch. She thinks he offered one of his hands, the calloused skin squeezing her own soft ones to keep her grounded. 

Then he loomed over her again, his lips shining with her desire as he licked them, then she watched, his eyes never straying from hers, as he sucked each of his digits into his mouth, drinking all of her in. 

She thought she might actually come again just from the sight. Never had a guy gone down on her and seemed to so thoroughly enjoy the process. Gods, this male, he really was going to ruin any other men for her. 

Worth it.

His lips met hers in a harsh dance, his fingers gripping her chin upwards so he could fully devour her. She found herself latching onto the band of his underwear and ripping, she had no time to waste trying to get them off safely. She simply didn’t care, she needed him, like yesterday. 

He chuckled, a sound she was getting awfully familiar with, but didn’t stop her as she just threw the pieces of fabric somewhere in his room. Then her hand found his cock, thick and throbbing as she pumped him once, twice. He groaned, his head falling against hers as she swiped the head, collecting the precum that had already begun leaking.

“Fuck, Y/n,” His lips finding her neck as he latched on, sucking and licking. 

She kept her pace, loving the feel of him in her hand. Then she positioned him at her entrance, their eyes meeting, one final confirmation nod from her and he was moving. 

She tensed for only a moment, the feeling of being so full not something she’s used to. But he went slow, entered her slowly, allowed her to adjust as he went in glorious inch by glorious inch. 

They were both breathing hard, she kept saying his name, he cursed under his breath as he did his best to not rut into her like a teenager chasing his first high. And gods, it was a high because he felt so good inside of her. Nothing could compare to this moment, how she felt.

Then his hips were flushed with hers, his body coming to a complete standstill as he watched her, his fingers pushing her hair out of her face, tracing the outline of her lips, her jaw. 

“You still with me, pretty?” He spoke softly, as if speaking any louder may break whatever bubble they’d built around themselves. 

“Yes, fuck, yes,” she breathed out. Her body doing its best to adjust to the sheer size and girth of him. He kissed her through it, his lips finding space on all of the bare skin he could reach. Even his shadows seemed to caress her softly, cooing and guiding her through the motions. 

“Please, Az, move,” she swirled her hips in emphasis, catching the moan he let out with her mouth as he finally moved. His hips pulled out halfway and then he pushed back in slowly at first, gauging her reaction. When she mewled, her nails scraping his back, he did it again, faster. He kept a steady pace as she felt their liquids combining, oozing out of her in the most delicious way. 

He kept a steady rhythm, their moans meeting in the air and dancing together as they continued to move together in sync. Her legs wrapped around his middle, getting him even deeper, and when she came the second time, it was just a good as the first.

“So beautiful,” he cooed, “So fucking tight, milking my cock so good,” He hit that spot deep inside of her as he cooed her name, his grunts filling her ears in tandem with his thrusts. Her lips found his and he obeyed her request, his tongue meeting hers and tangling, their saliva mixing as one of his hands gripped her waist, the other finding its way to her face. 

When the aftershocks finally started to ebb away, Azriel wasted no time in flipping her over, her knees and hands on the mattress, her ass in the air. She let out a noise of distress when his cock slipped out of her, but it was quickly followed by a moan as he reentered her from behind. 

And holy trinity of all the gods, he was somehow deeper inside of her, she could feel every pleasure inducing inch of him as he lost all of his control. He pounded into her, his hands on her hips as she did her best to meet him thrust for thrust.

She couldn’t believe it, she could already feel that pool of desire growing in her for the third time tonight. Her sounds no more than a slew of moans and expletives as he continued his brutal thrusts. 

“Fuck, you’re doing so good, that’s it–” he praised, his hand pulling her hair away from her neck as his chest became flush with her back. His other hand found that sensitive nub between her thighs, pinching and flicking in the most torturous ways. “You can give me another one, can’t you, pretty?” He asked, his voice a husky sheen in her ear as his thrusts continued to wreak havoc on her. “Just one more, I know you can do it,” she had never been one for dirty talk, but fuck, Azriel could talk about grocery shopping and she’d find it hot as hell.

The praise only brought her closer to that edge, coaxing her on. And when his fingers added just enough pressure to her center, she fell right over that edge for the third time, her orgasm causing her legs to shake so wholly that Azriel had to hold her up as he continued to thrust into her. A cocky, but proud smile lighting his face briefly before pleasure took root and he came inside of her, his cock throbbing and swelling as he spilt rope after rope of his seed into her.

They stayed that way for a long moment, it could have been minutes or hours, Y/n wouldn’t be able to tell even if there were a knife to her throat. His naked, sweat beaded chest pressing against her back as their harsh breathing filled the room’s silence. 

He finally slipped out of her, his hands slowly lowering her onto her stomach, her legs nothing but jelly as he flipped onto his side, careful of his wings. 

Their gazes collided, a sexed-out smile slapping its way to her mouth as she took him in. His own smile found its way onto his face, just a small, intimate one that made her heart do dangerous flips inside her chest.

“That was–” she started, her breathy voice sounded as ruined as she felt.

“Fucking amazing.” He finished, his hand reaching out to push a piece of hair that had fallen over her eyes, behind her ear. Then he kissed her forehead, his arm slinging over her back. 

“Stay.” He murmured, his eyes already closing as sleep began to take him hostage.

Once again, she found herself unable to say no to this man. Her eyelids already heavy with her own sleep, drifted shut. She briefly recognized the feeling of a blanket being dropped over her, maybe his shadows? She didn’t have time to question before sleep finally claimed her.

✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧

Y/n woke to soft beams of sunlight trickling across her face through the balcony doors. The warmth seeped into her skin as her eyes adjusted to the light. 

It took her a moment to remember where she was. An unfamiliar, but comfortable, bed caressed her body. Her body completely naked where she lay against the comforter, a small throw blanket had been placed over her to keep her warm in the night.

And then, there was the weight.

A large, muscled arm thrown over her waist, an even heavier leg pressed between her thighs, their legs tangled. His body was warm and the limbs attached to her only kept her close to the male she found herself facing. His beautiful face somehow less intimidating in sleep, all the smooth lines and fine angles completely at ease. 

Azriel.

The Spymaster of the Night Court.

Her eyes widened as last night's events all came flooding back in troves. Azriel finding her in the alleyway, her sister and friends, Azriel dancing with her, her internship, Azriel and his glorious kissing, his hands, his shadows, and his body. 

Fuck. 

She needed to leave. She wasn’t sure how this was supposed to work, but she was damn sure it’d be awkward if he woke up and she was still here. In his bed. 

She briefly remembered him telling her to stay, but surely he hadn’t meant through the morning. She highly doubted that he was about to invite her to lunch with his family. 

His family.

Oh, gods.

Did they live here? Had they heard them last night? If she hadn’t been so caught up in the shadowsinger, she may have stopped to ask herself about these things, but nope. Instead she fell head over freaking tea kettle and– admittedly– had the best sex of her life. 

She needed to leave, like hours ago.

She ignored the sweet caresses of his shadows as they welcomed her with a morning that, any other time, she’d be thrilled about. But right now she needed to figure out how to get out from under his arm, and his leg, and was that his wing cocooning over them? 

Somehow, an act of the Mother and Cauldron themselves, she managed to disentangle herself from his monkey hold. He really did seem peaceful, and she did her best to remain quiet, not because she didn’t want to speak to him– although that may have definitely been a factor– but because she didn’t want to disturb his sleep, who knew how much he got on a regular basis. In his line of work, she imagined, not much.

Quietly she peeled around the room, grabbing her dress and quickly shimmying it on and grabbing her heels. Fuck putting those bitches back on, last night Y/n was not this morning Y/n, and her feet would thank her for it. 

She slowly slipped out of his room, not sure how she was going to get out of this place. He had flown them last night, brought her in through his balcony. Surely there had to be a front door. The last thing she wanted to be doing was roaming around the Inner Circle’s private dwelling, she imagined that was how one ended up on the wrong side of jail cell. 

She gulped, taking in the hallways around her. There were loads of paintings adorning the brilliant, sophisticated walls. All of the members of the Inner Circle in various positions. There were some of just the General Commander and his mate, Lady Death. There were some of the High Lord and Lady with their adorable son, and even a few of the lesser talked about members. They were beautifully done, and if she wasn’t mistaken, the High Lady had probably painted these herself. 

She had been so caught up in looking at the photos along the hallway, following them unconsciously that she jumped when somebody cleared their throat. 

She flailed, horrendously. Heels thrown in the air, her feet slipping from beneath her as she swiveled around and came face to chest with a very large male. She would have fallen on her ass if he hadn’t grabbed her arm to steady her. Her eyes tracked all the way up his leather-clad chest and to his large membranous wings that somehow seemed slightly different than Azriel’s. Were there scars on his? And, were they smaller? She shook her head, so not important.

“Well, hello there,” he crooned, a crooked grin lighting the General Commander’s features as he used a leather strap to bind his hair in a bun atop his head. 

She cursed herself inwardly, gods, she really needed to work on her observation skills. How had she missed him of all people? He was definitely the largest of the three illyrian men who belonged to the Inner Circle. And, he had always seemed like the most approachable, though that wasn’t saying much. He was still absolutely terrifying.

And here she was, staring at him with her mouth agape like a fish out of water. Perhaps she should take her chances with the balconies after all, maybe a free fall would do her some good right about now.

“Hi,” she squeaked, quickly grabbing her flyaway shoes and holding them to her chest like a lifeline. 

“You must be Az’s…friend,” he said, a knowing smirk on his face. She could feel her blush as it crawled from the tips of her toes to her cheeks. 

She swallowed, trying to take this gift from the Mother. The general had wings, which meant he could probably get her out of here without causing too much trouble, she doubted he’d tell her no. Plus, that meant she really wouldn’t have to face Azriel again, so a bonus, at least, that’s what she told herself. 

“He’s sleeping,” Cassian’s brows rose at that, a look of shock briefly flitting across his face before his easy demeanor was back. 

“That is–interesting. Were you joining us for breakfast?” 

“No–” She calmed herself, reigning in the slight shout she’d let through in all her panic. “I mean– no, I’m not. I just– I’m trying to get home, I’ve got a busy day and I’m not quite sure how–”

“Ah,” he said, that ridiculous smirk still plastered on his smug face. “Too bad, Azriel doesn’t usually have…sleepovers.”

Sleepovers? What were they, twelve? 

She gave her best smile, “Is there any chance you could show me the way out?”

“You’re not going to wait for him to wake up?” He cocked his head, his tone full of confusion, as if this wasn’t something he’d ever had to deal with. 

She shook her head, “He looked peaceful, and I really need to get home, my roommate’s probably worried sick.”

Understanding bloomed on his face, “Well, there are two options then, little ghost,” her brows pinched at the nickname. This male didn’t know her from Adam, and yet, he seemed so incredibly warm and kind. She chastised herself, it didn’t matter, she would probably never speak to him again. “You can either venture down the 10,000 steps to the bottom,” he laughed at the sour look that crossed her face, her poor, poor feet. “Or, I can fly you back home, if you’re comfortable with that.”

“That would be wonderful, as long as it doesn’t put you out,” she said, praying to every god she could remember the name of that he truly didn’t mind. 

His smile was easy. “It’s no trouble, I’ll even tell Azriel you said goodbye.”

“That’s really not necessary,” she blushed as he led her toward an opened foyer, large balconies lining the room. “I’m sure you’ve got better things to do,” and she was also sure that Azriel wouldn’t care. They’d had their night of fun, now she needed to get out of here and try and go about her life like normal. Whatever that meant, she really wasn’t sure that’d even be possible. 

He merely smiled at her, something was off about it though, as if he didn’t really believe her.

But, he did as he said and flew her home.

It was time to get back to normal life, she had a lot going for her. And the Spymaster of the Night Court didn’t have anything to do with it.

✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧✩☽✧

Weeks passed in a blur, between her internship starting and her ordinarily chaotic life, she had hardly had time to think about her night with the spymaster. He only ever found her in his dreams, and if she was lucky, her subconscious would grant her some of the memories of that night in dream form. 

She hadn’t so much as seen him in the past six weeks, she tried to tell herself that it didn’t matter, that it was only one night and she should accept that for what it is– and she did. For the most part. But, sometimes, in the wee hours of the morning, when her thoughts were just a little more hostile, she would think about him, and what he’d thought when he woke up that day and she’d been gone. Had he been upset? Or had he been relieved? And why had Cassian seemed so sure that he’d see her again? He had even winked at her when he dropped her off that morning. Weird. 

“Take this twice a day for a week and the rash should clear right up,” She spoke to a short, mousy looking female. The nuclear green liquid sloshing around in the vial as the woman thanked her and scurried away after tossing her a few coins. 

Madja came out of the back room, “Y/n, can you help me in here for a moment?”

Without hesitation, she quickly wiped her hands on her apron and followed Madja to the back. She felt her stomach sink as the older fae led her silently into the main medicine bay. She had asked Madja a few weeks ago about some medicines that could help with stress-induced nausea. It didn’t matter what she brewed, if it was a personal concoction or one out of one of her textbooks, none of them seemed to be helping. She only ever got sick in the evenings, and at this point, she was starting to get worried that something was seriously wrong. So she’d asked Madja, and the older fae had said she’d look into it and make her something that should help. 

Y/n couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what this was about, she had said it wouldn’t take long and that had been only two days ago. But, when y/n found herself in the furthest room in the back of the building, her thoughts quickly emptied out.

A young girl sat on the seat, her arm full of what looked to be glass shards. The other arm, sat gently in medicated water, blood pooling in thin layers as it soaked.

Y/n’s stomach lurched, the girl couldn’t have been older than nine or ten, and the wounds looked awfully painful.

“I need you to apply the salve and wrap this arm while I start working on getting the glass out of the other arm,” Madja spoke, handing a pair of gloves to her as she quickly made her way back over to the young girl. Her mother was pacing back and forth as she watched. Y/n shot her a soothing smile, the best she could manage, the one she’d learned specifically for this reason. It seemed to work, long enough for the mother to sit down, but she kept her eyes trained on them. Y/n couldn’t blame her, she could only imagine what a mother went through when seeing their child in pain.

“Hi,” she spoke softly to the girl, “My names Y/n, you’re gonna feel a cooling sensation when I apply the salve, it shouldn’t hurt, but if it does, just let me know and we’ll adjust,” She smiled, the little girl’s lip wobbled as tears silently streamed down her cheeks. 

As she began applying the medicine softly, her ministrations smooth and practiced, she asked the girl for her name, hoping that talking to her would keep her mind off of Madja, who was currently taking glass shards out of her other arm. 

“Margo,” she spoke, her eyes solely focused on y/n. “I was trying to help momma at her food stall, but I tripped.” She sniffled. 

“Ah,” she hummed, quietly grabbing the wraps, “Do you help out at the food stall, often?” 

“Yes!” Margo lit up, she began babbling on about all the different fruits and veggies her mother grows and how they always wash and prep them for stall day. She asked the young girl about school, her family–her siblings, and anything else she could to keep the young girl’s mind occupied. 

Over the course of the next half hour, Madja and her worked tediously to apply the salves, soak the wounds, and get them wrapped so that they could start healing. With a vial of cream and a lollipop in her hand, Margo danced out of the clinic with her mother, her smile never leaving her face. 

“You did well, keeping her calm.” Madja spoke, her tone even as always as she worked behind the counter. 

“Thanks, I can only imagine what she must have been thinking,”

It was then that Madja handed her a few vials of a pinkish, red liquid. The confusion must have been written all over her face because the older fae prattled on, “That should help with the morning sickness, but I can’t guarantee that it will make it go away entirely.”

Every thought blinked out of Y/n’s head.

Morning sickness?

“It’s not–” Madja stopped when she interrupted, her eyes blinking uncontrollably as she tried to do the math in her head, “It can’t be–” she stuttered.

There was no way, absolutely not. 

She hadn’t been with anyone in months, no one except–

Him. 

“I got your blood work back today,” Madja had taken her blood a few days ago when she had initially brought up the nausea, just in case, she had said. It was standard procedure, something Y/n was very familiar with having worked in all sorts of clinics for the past few decades.

No, no, no.

Pairing: Ilya Rozanov x Male!Reader

Summary: After a brutal ER shift, you’re coerced into attending the biggest game of the season by your secret partner, MHL enforcer Ilya Rozanov. On the way to the arena, a catastrophic car accident leaves you critically injured.

The fluorescent lights of the emergency room hummed a familiar, weary tune, the soundtrack to your last twelve hours. Your body felt heavy, a vessel filled with leaden exhaustion. All you wanted was the quiet darkness of your shared apartment, the weight of Ilya’s arm thrown over you, and the deep, dreamless sleep of the utterly spent. Your phone buzzed for the tenth time in an hour. You didn’t need to look to know it was him.

'Come to the game.'

'I need you here.'

'You promised.'

You had. Three weeks ago, over coffee, his hand covering yours on the kitchen table. “It’s the last home game before the road trip. A big one. Be there, kotik please.” His eyes, the color of a winter sky, were uncharacteristically earnest. You’d nodded, squeezing his hand. “I’ll be there.”

That was before the mass casualty incident, the three back-to-back trauma surgeries, the relentless tide of human suffering that defined your day. You texted back, thumbs clumsy with fatigue: 'Shift from hell. So tired. Raincheck?' His response was immediate, a single line that brooked no argument: 'I’m sending a car. Be outside in 20.'

A part of you, the part that wasn’t a hollowed-out shell, thrilled at his insistence. Three years of being Ilya Rozanov’s secret, the hidden heartbeat behind the NHL’s most notorious enforcer, had taught you that his dominance, so fearsome on the ice, was, in your private world, an expression of a desperate, possessive care. He wanted you there, in his element, watching him. It was his version of a love letter. So, against every screaming instinct of your medical training that told you to sleep, you changed out of your scrubs, left the hospital, and slid into the black town car idling at the curb.

The city lights blurred into streaks of gold and white. You leaned your head against the cool window, your eyes slipping shut. You were so close to sleep, floating in that pleasant, weightless limbo, when the world exploded.

There was no time to process the screech of metal, the shattering of glass, the violent, wrenching jerk that slammed you against the seatbelt. A symphony of chaos, a blaring horn, screams that might have been yours, the crumpling of the car’s frame like a tin can in a giant’s fist. Then, a profound, ringing silence, broken only by the ticking of the dying engine and a slow, ominous drip.

Pain came next, a bright, hot bloom in your side. Your vision swam, the world tilting on its axis. You tried to move, but a jagged piece of the console pinned your leg. You could smell gasoline, coolant, and the coppery tang of blood. 'Your' blood. The doctor in you, buried under shock and agony, began a triage checklist. Ribs? Possibly cracked. Leg? Trapped, maybe broken. Head? Pounding, but conscious. Concussion likely. The civilian in you just thought of Ilya.

'He’s going to be so angry', you thought, absurdly, as you fumbled for your phone. The screen was a spiderweb of cracks, dark and unresponsive. The driver was moaning up front. Sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer. The last thing you remembered before the gray fog swallowed you was the cold seep of rain through the shattered window, and the distant, muffled roar of a crowd. The game had started.

On the ice, Ilya Rozanov was a storm looking for a place to break. Every check he threw was a little harder, every shift a little longer. His eyes, hidden behind his visor, kept flicking up to Section 102, Row B, Seats 5 and 6. 'Your' seats. The ones he’d bought under a shell company, the ones where you’d sat, hidden in a hoodie, for three seasons.

Seat 5 was empty.

A cold knot, distinct from the arena’s chill, began to tighten in his gut. You were late. Stuck in traffic. Your hellish shift ran over. He cycled through the excuses, fueling his skates with them. He scored a goal, a slapshot that nearly tore the net off its moorings, and instead of his usual triumphant roar to the crowd, his eyes immediately cut to the empty seat. Nothing.

By the second period, the worry had curdled into a hot, sharp anger. You promised. He’d 'told' you he needed you here. This game, against his arch-rival Shane Hollander’s team, was a statement. He wanted to make it with you watching. The empty seat was a void, a public rejection only he could see. Every time he glided past the bench, he shot a glare at his agent, Leo, who was supposed to be managing you, getting you here. Leo just shrugged helplessly from behind the glass.

In the third period, with the score tied and his temper on a hair trigger, Ilya took a stupid penalty. A blatant, frustrated cross-check that sent Hollander sprawling. As he sat in the penalty box, seething, his eyes locked on the empty spot in the stands. The disappointment was a physical ache, worse than any blocked shot. He felt foolish. He’d built this moment up in his head, a fantasy where he won the game for you, and you’d be waiting for him after, your tired smile just for him. The fantasy was crumbling, and with it, his composure.

The final buzzer sounded. A win, pulled from the jaws of a tie in the last minutes. His teammates mobbed him, but he shoved them off, his celebration perfunctory. He was already scanning the tunnel entrance, the family waiting area, expecting to see you leaning against a wall, looking apologetic and exhausted.

You weren’t there.

The anger was a live wire now. He stormed past cheering fans, ignoring outstretched pens and jerseys. He burst into the private family lounge, expecting to find you. It was filled with wives, girlfriends, children, but no you. Leo was there, his face pale, his phone clutched in a white-knuckled grip.

“Where is he?” Ilya barked, his voice cutting through the happy chatter. The room quieted.

Leo looked up. The look on his face, a mixture of dread, pity, and profound anxiety stopped Ilya’s heart mid-beat. It was the same look Leo had worn when he’d told Ilya about his grandfather’s stroke. It was the look that preceded world-altering news.

“Ilya,” Leo said, his voice low and urgent. “We need to talk. Now.”

“Where is he?” Ilya repeated, each word an ice chip.

“I don’t know,” Leo said, which was a lie, and Ilya knew it. Leo always knew. “Just come with me.”

The walk to the players’ dressing room was a blur. Ilya’s skates echoed in the concrete corridor. The euphoria of the win had evaporated, replaced by a chilling dread that seeped into his bones. He slammed the door to his private sanctuary shut and rounded on Leo.

“Tell me.”

Leo swallowed, holding out his phone. “There was an accident. A multi-car pile-up on the I-95, near the hospital exit. About… two hours ago.”

The world narrowed to a pinprick. The hospital exit. That was where the car he’d sent would have picked you up.

“And?” Ilya’s voice was barely a whisper.

“One of the cars was a black town car. Registered to the service we use.”

The air left Ilya’s lungs. He grabbed the edge of his stall to steady himself. The metal bit into his palm.

“The passengers were taken to Metropolitan General. One male, critical. One male, serious.”

'Critical and serious.' The words bounced around his skull, meaningless and yet more terrifying than any he’d ever heard. You were a doctor. You were never the patient. You were the one who gave the news, not the one it was given about.

“Which one?” Ilya demanded, his composure shattering. “Which one is he? Is he the critical one? Leo, tell me!”

“I don’t know!” Leo said, his own control fraying. “They wouldn’t release names to me! I’m not family! Ilya… you know what this means. If he’s… if it’s bad…”

If it was bad, they would need to contact next of kin. And in the eyes of the world, in the eyes of the hospital, Ilya Rozanov was not your next of kin. He was your secret. Your three years, your shared home, your quiet life, it was invisible. A ghost story.

The anger, the glorious and simple anger at being stood up, melted away and was replaced by a terror so vast it was paralyzing. His disappointment seemed like a grotesque, childish sin. While he was fuming over an empty seat, you were being cut from a wrecked car. While he was taking a stupid penalty in a fit of pique, you might have been fighting for your life.

“Get the car,” Ilya said, his voice hollow. “Now.”

“Ilya, think. The media is everywhere. If you go charging into that ER—”

“GET THE CAR!” The roar was pure, unvarnished fear, the sound of a man watching his entire hidden world teeter on the edge of an abyss. “I don’t care who sees. I don’t care about anything. Get it.”

Twenty minutes later, Ilya stood in the chaotic brightness of the Metropolitan General ER waiting room. He was still in his gear, having only thrown a coat over his sweaters. He looked like a maniac, a giant among the sick and injured. He didn’t care. He strode to the triage desk, where a harried nurse looked up, her eyes widening in recognition.

“I’m looking for a patient. Brought in from the pile-up on the 95. In a town car.”

“Sir, I can’t—”

“His name is—” Ilya stopped. He couldn’t say your name. It would lead to questions he couldn’t answer. The helplessness was a vice around his throat. He was Ilya Rozanov, who could command ice rinks and headlines, and he couldn’t even ask if the love of his life was alive. He turned to Leo, desperate.

It was then, through the swinging double doors that led to the trauma bays, that he saw a familiar figure being wheeled on a gurney. Your face was pale, streaked with dirt and dried blood. Your eyes were closed, an oxygen mask over your nose and mouth. Your leg was in an air cast. But you were alive. You were 'there'.

He moved without thinking, a force of nature pushing past the “Authorized Personnel Only” sign.

“Sir, you can’t go back there!”

He ignored the shout. He reached the gurney just as it was being transferred into a curtained bay. A resident looked up, startled. “Hey!”

Ilya’s gaze was only for you. He reached out, his huge, gloved hand, still in his hockey glove—closing gently over your limp, cold fingers.

Your eyelids fluttered open. The gaze that met his was clouded with pain and drugs, but recognition dawned. You tried to smile beneath the mask, a weak, pathetic thing that shattered what was left of Ilya’s heart.

The resident, a young man who clearly knew exactly who Ilya was, stared. He looked from the giant, frantic hockey player in full gear to his unconscious patient, and back again. The unspoken question hung in the sterilized air.

Ilya didn’t drop your hand. He looked the doctor dead in the eye, his own filled with a raw, terrifying vulnerability. “He’s mine,” Ilya said, his voice breaking on the words. It wasn’t an explanation. It was a plea, a confession, and a declaration of war against the world, all at once. “Please. He’s mine. Is he going to be okay?”

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!reader

Summary: Reader and her brother are chosen to go scope out the Mac-Z what happens when they aren’t getting along and end up in an accident. How will the others react?

Warnings: no use of y/n, a bit of angst, very slight fluff

Notes: okay! So if y’all end up wanting it I can do a part two! I’ll probably continue with a Henderson sibling apology or something along those lines! Just let me know!!

Every week someone was sent to scope out the Mac-Z to make sure nothing suspicious was going on more than usual, this week it was yours and Dustin’s turn.You were driving and Dustin was looking down at whatever piece of science equipment he decided to bring along. Usually you and Steve would go together, and the two of you would take advantage of the alone time but Steve had to do sound effects for Robin so Dustin came along. You didn’t mind, your brother had been having a hard time since Eddie died, so you were going to use this alone time with him to try and rekindle your relationship with your brother.

You look over at Dustin seeing him fiddle with the device “You okay Dusty?”

Dustin doesn’t look up immediately but when he does it’s with the same dejected expression as usual. “I’m fine…” he looked back down at the device. You frowned and looked back at the road, Dustin used to talk to you about things, you used to be close, in fact he was the one that pushed you and Steve to hangout outside of having to be together when shit hit the fan and you were fighting the inhabitants of the upside down, but now? Dustin barely gave you the time of day.

“Dustin I know this has been hard… It’s been hard on all of us, but I know how much harder it has been for you and I don't want to take away from what you're feeling… I just want you to talk to me… like you used too. You know you can still trust me right…?” you spoke softly, you didn’t want to come across as demanding or negligent of his emotions but you were hurting too. Everyone was and you know he was grieving but that didn’t make the way he acted sometimes right.

Dustin didn’t acknowledge your words, you know he heard you but he didn’t say anything or even look up at you. You sighed and pulled over, you were close enough to be able to see into the Mac-Z while not being suspicious. You and Dustin sat there for about two hours before you decided it was the same as normal. You pull back onto the road and start heading towards a convenience store, you were hungry and you were sure Dustin was as well. It was painfully quiet.

“I do trust you..” Dustin’s words were quiet, and he kept his gaze down. You look over at him, it felt good to hear him say that.

“I trust you too Dustin… I just wish you would talk to me again… like you used too. We used to be a team, but lately it’s like we can’t even work together because we can’t get on the same page. I know you’re hurting Dustin, I do. And I am so sorry Eddie died, I am. I’m so sorry that you had to go through losing someone so close to you, but he wouldn’t have wanted you too-”

“You don’t know what the hell he wanted.” Dustin cut you off before you could continue, his gaze was still down but now his hands were clenched in his lap.

“Dustin, that's not where I was going with that.” You tried to reason with him but he was getting angry.

“No!” Dustin finally looked up at you, his brows furrowed, his eyes watery. “I’m tired of everyone trying to tell me what Eddie wanted! I know what he wanted! They were the last words he said to me! Before he died, he told me before he died! But I tried and everyone at school thinks I’m crazy! They think Eddie is a murderer! And Mike, Lucas, and Will think I’m doing too much-”

“Dustin, they're just worried for you!” You kept looking between Dustin and the road

“No! They think I’m going crazy!” Dustin countered, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“That’s not true Dustin and you know it! Everyone is just worried for you, they’re your friends. Maybe you should listen to them. They told me you’re trying to start back up Hellfire, Dustin you’re supposed to be laying low, not drawing attention to yourself! What if someone catches on to what we're doing because you drew too much attention and they got nosey! We’ll never find Vecna! Eleven will be found by the government and taken away! Hell we’ll probably all be taken to prison where we’ll spend the rest of our lives rotting in there! What then Dustin!? Huh!! What then!? You can’t start Hellfire from there!” You didn’t mean to say those things, but you did. You didn’t feel like you were wrong, it was a plausible concern.

“Oh so this is what it’s about then!? It’s not about me! You’re just concerned about the mission! The job! I should’ve known! Ever since the earth split in half all you’re worried about is finding Vecna! That’s the only thing you’re concerned about! Why would you ever be concerned about me!!?” Dustin yelled back and you were gripping the stealing wheel, your knuckles white from the grip

“Dustin, that's crazy! Of course it’s about you! You’re my brother for goodness sake! I’m worried about you! Dustin I’m scared I’m losing you! You’re not the same- You’re so angry all the time! You isolate yourself from the group! You-”

“Watch out!” Dustin screamed

“What-!?” You were confused

“WATCH OUT!” Dustin screamed and pointed and as soon as you turned your head to look a car came barreling into you, hitting the side of the car at, at least 60mph. Your car was pushed to the side of the road where you and Dustin flipped into the ditch. The last thing you remember hearing is the sound of tires screeching as they drove away.

When you woke up again you were upside down, your head hurt so bad, you could feel blood dripping into your hairline, your neck hurt. Whiplash maybe? Then you finally processed the shaking from your right side, someone was shaking your arm trying to wake you. Dustin!

“Please wake up… Please don’t do this. I’m sorry, okay! Wake up! Wake up!” Dustin was crying, you looked over at him, but it’s sorta blurry, your head was spinning.

“Dustin…?” you blink a few times trying to get your vision to focus you mostly succeeded, looking over Dustin for injuries you only saw small cuts, probably from the glass, that was until you saw his hand, it was all cut up, and bleeding, it must’ve gone through the window or something.

“Oh thank god! You’re alive! You’re okay!!” Dustin was relieved to hear your voice.

“Dustin…? Dustin what happened…?” You look around the car trying to remember

“Someone hit us… I can’t get out… I’m stuck… we need to get to a phone booth.” Dustin explained. You just couldn’t help but wonder if he was more injured then he let on. It didn’t seem like he hit his head but then again, you couldn’t really tell.

“Hey, did you get that? We need to get out of the damn car right now.” Dustin repeated and caught your attention

“Right… yeah uhm… were upside down…” You noticed

“Yes we are, which is why I need something to cut the seatbelts with… They won’t come undone” Dustin said, looking at you, hoping you would have something.

You sat there thinking, really trying to at least before you remembered

“Theres a Knife in the glove department.” You watch as Dustin reaches for it.

“Dustin let me do it. I don’t want you to hit your head-” You said reaching your hand out for him to hand you the knife

“No way! You’re literally bleeding from your head! I’ve got this!” Dustin said and started working at the seatbelt

“Dustin-!” but it was too late for you to argue anymore, Dustin got his seatbelt cut, and he was free. He landed on the roof of the car, then crawled his way out the broken windshield.

You sat there for a couple seconds. Alone, your head was killing you, and you wanted nothing more than to close your eyes and go to sleep but you knew better than that. Dustin came around to your side and forced the door open.

“I’ve gotcha don’t worry” He reaches up, cuts your seatbelt and helps guide you down instead of letting you fall. You crawl out of the car. You’re so dizzy, it makes you sick.

“Oh god… Dustin are you alright…? You said taking a deep breath trying not to throw up from the dizziness.

“Yeah don’t worry I'm fine, I'm fine… look why don’t you lay down, it’ll help with that dizziness, and I'll walk down the road to that phone booth we passed and call for help yeah…?” Dustin said moving to lead you to your back, so you could lay on the grass.

You didn’t want Dustin to walk alone, but you literally couldn’t get up without getting sick so you just nodded.

Dustin walked away, and a few minutes later, he was back and he sat beside you, leading your head into his lap.

“Dustin..?” you question softly looking up at him, your dizziness was subsiding. You assumed it was from being upside down and the blood rushing to your head.

“Yeah it’s me sis… it’s me. Don’t worry Steve is on his way okay?” Dustin sorta brushed some of your hair away from the gash on your forehead, he had watched your head connect with your window.

The two of you sat there for maybe ten minutes before the sound of tires screeching from the brakes could be heard. Steve jumped out of the car, Dustin looked up and saw that Nancy and Joyce had piled into Steve’s car to tag along as well. Steve didn’t even bother closing his door, he just ran over, dropping to his knees in front of the two of you.

“God what happened?” Steve looked over Dustin before looking at you, everyone was surrounding the two of you now.

“Some dumbass hit us and ran. He was going at least 60 miles an hour.” Dustin said, looking over to you. The shock of the crash had gone away as well as the dizziness from being upside down and now you were sat up now, the side of your face was covered in blood from the gash on the side of your forehead and like Dustin you had little cuts everywhere from the glass shattering.

Joyce and Nancy knelt down as well. Nancy took Dustin’s hand looking at the cuts all over it.

“We’re fine…” you said quietly looking up at Steve. Your head was still pounding and you could feel the blood on the side of your face but you really were fine, you had just been so dizzy from being upside down.

“Maybe we should get you two to a hospital… just to be checked out y’know?” Steve said, looking between you and your brother concerned.

“No. I was just talking to Dustin about not drawing attention to ourselves... That's what a hospital will do. Draw attention. We’re fine, take us back to the squawk and you can patch us up there.” You didn’t leave any room for argument. In the past when someone was hurt y’all would patch them up and keep moving. This situation wasn’t gonna be any different.

Joyce, Nancy, and Steve all share a look before moving to help you and Dustin up, and get the two of you in the car. Joyce sat in the back with you and Dustin on either side of her. She insisted, just like she insisted on holding a shirt Steve had in his car to your head to try and stop the bleeding or at least slow it down. It already covered the side of your face, and stained your shirt, she didn’t think it would be smart for you to lose anymore.

When y’all finally arrive at the squawk Steve helps you out of the car, and starts leading you inside despite you being able to do it yourself so you thought. The sudden movement of standing up too quickly makes you a bit dizzy again, your hand shoots up to your head as you wince.

“Hey… you okay?” Steve looks down at you stopping the two of you in your tracks when he notices the wincing

“Yeah, just a bit dizzy is all, I’m fine, let's just get inside.” You reassure Steve. He looks at you but finally the two of you keep walking. When you get inside Joyce already has Dustin sat down in a chair and is tending to the cuts on his hand and face. Mike, Will, and Dustin are already surrounding him asking what happened. Steve sits Natalie down on the couch and moves to grab the other first aid kit. Nancy sits down beside Natalie taking her hand.

“You sure you’re feeling okay…? You took a hell of a hit. I mean that’s a nasty gash, you sure you don’t wanna get it checked out at the hospital?” Nancy meant well, she was just worried, but you were fine, you would hurt for a while but that was nothing new.

Before you could answer Nancy you all heard a very loud “Holy Shit!” from the sound booth followed by the sound of headphones being thrown on the desk and the door being slammed open. Robin came running out, followed by Johnathan who had taken over sound effects for Steve when he left.

“Oh my god! That's so much blood! Holy shit dude I thought you said it was a minor accident not a bloodbath!” Robin said, freaking out running over to you. You didn’t blame her, you could feel the blood sticking to your skin, you could only imagine how bad it looked.

“I’m fine Robin really, it’s not as bad as it looks. Glass cuts tend to bleed a hell of a lot more than others. Promise” you give her a small smile, your head is pounding, you just wanted to lie down preferably with Steve there. Speaking of Steve he walks in with the other med kit and kneels down in front of you. The others give you space and go back to what they were doing, still worried though.

“You had me worried shitless…” Steve said softly as he reached up to start cleaning the blood from your face, his other hand gently holding your face where he could see it better.

“I’m sorry Steve… I just feel like it’s all my fault. Me and Dustin were arguing and had I been paying attention to the road I probably could’ve at least gotten us out of the way-” you started to ramble, feeling your eyes grow wet.

“No, don’t do that. This isn’t your fault sweetheart. That jackass was speeding and he should’ve been watching, not you. It’s not your fault.” Steve continued cleaning the blood at least around your wound to be able to bandage it up.

“Do you think Dustin hates me…? Hates us? Steve, he's been so different here lately and I don’t know how to help him. He won’t let me, no matter how hard I try. It’s like he’s slipping away.” You look down at your hands, which we’re sorta covered in blood from touching your head. Steve lifted your face back up, making you look at him.

“I don’t think he hates you, no not at all. But I know how you feel, here lately all I’ve gotten from that kid is attitude and hate it feels like. But listen to me.” Steve let both his hands cup your face. “We’re not gonna stop trying okay? We can’t stop showing him we care.”