#Shadowsinger
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Stop painting Azriel as this desperate, introverted, loner type. He is nothing short of beautiful with a midnight voice and the biggest wings. Feyre wonders if he gets his information through stone-cold manners as much as stealth and shadows and even Lucien thinks he seems like a decent enough male. Rhys notes his sly, wicked sense of humor and Cassian observes he can waltz as easily as breathing. Even Mor who is only romantically interested in women considers sleeping with him just to make sure. The boy is good. Lucien is not better suited for Elain because they both like socialising— Az is charming the masses left, right and centre. He could bed (and murder) most of Prythian. You know it, I know it, SJM knows it and Elain Archeron knows it too. Good day.
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Chapter 13: The past cannot be forgotten /// Azriel X F!Reader
Summary: Y/N finally opens up to Azriel about Ruvyn. They finallly go to Koschei's home.
Word Count: 1,6K
Warnings: Just the usual angst.
Notes: My dumb ass accidentally posted this before i even posted the first chapters ughhhh
Main Masterlist
Worlds Apart Masterlist
Azriel sat in bed, watching her squirming and groaning, her eyebrows furrowed and sweat coating her forehead. He reached to wake her up when she jumped out of her slumber, sitting in bed with a panicked expression, hands grasping for his arm, eyes frantically scanning him for any injuries.
“They took you, I saw Ruvyn kill you.” She sobbed, tears streaming down her pretty face. He pulled her to his lap, allowing her to cry on the crook of his neck.
“Shh, it’s okay.” He rubbed her hair, noticing how this worked to calm her down faster. As she stopped her sobs and looked at him again with her red puffy eyes, he pulled her in for a kiss, gently cupping her cheeks and brushing her lips with his own. “Whenever you need to talk to me, I'm here for you.” He said after they parted the kiss.
“His name was Ruvyn.” She spoke, her voice hoarse from both crying and sleep. He watched her intensely. “Before our people became one, Ironteeths hunted Crochans down, to kill them for what their ancestors did to us. I met him in one of my huntings, he was different from the humans I met, he was charming, and something in me came back to life when I saw him for the first time.”
Her face dropped to an even sadder expression, like remembering those things were too painful, and they were, but she needed to let them go, she couldn’t keep allowing that Ruvyn’s ghost haunted her and sucked the life and joy out of her anymore.
“I fell in love with him and I kept coming back to him. He showed me things that I never thought I would have the chance of experiencing. He taught me how to dance, how to live, and how to love.” She rubbed her eyes. “The night I finally got the courage to be intimate with him was like a dream come true. I told him I loved him that night and he looked me in the eyes, like I truly meant something to him and told me he loved me too. When I woke up he had turned me in, ready to burn me at a stake. He told me so many awful things that I still carry with me to this day, he said I was going to die alone and no one would ever love a monster like me.”
The pain in her eyes was too much for Azriel to handle. He understood perfectly how hard it was hearing such harsh words directed at him, but it was totally different coming from someone she trusted with her heart.
“I was able to free myself, the people who snickered at me started to scream and run away, i was never a monster Az.” She promised. “But that day I turned myself into what Ruvyn believed I was, I became the monster he made me. I killed the man I loved with my bare hands, I ripped his heart out for what he did to mine. I’m not proud of this but I can't erase what I did.”
“And you had every reason to do what you did, I can't imagine a betrayal like this.” She looked at him with worried eyes.
“You don’t think I'm a monster?” Her lower lip started to quiver like she was going to cry again.
“I could never think that of you.” He reassured her, pulling her in for another kiss. “I love you.”
And despite not being able to tell him that she loved him too, she opened her heart to that feeling, something told her that this time would be different and she was willing to believe.
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
After that morning, they got ready to talk to the rest of the house about their conclusions, finding the two males by the dining room having breakfast, Vassa was nowhere to be seen. Azriel and Y/N greeted them, sitting down to eat.
“Did you two sleep well?” Lucien asked, always the kind host.
“We did, thank you Lu.” Y/N said. “But I guess the news we have for you isn't that good.” She sipped on her coffee. “Koschei is a Valg king.”
Her and Azriel shared all the information they gathered last night, including the one about Nesta, who according to the letter Azriel got late in the night, was being kept hidden at the cabin much to her dismay. Y/N couldn’t imagine what they had to do to keep Nesta locked against her will, and she wanted to end this soon so her friend would be free again.
“So we’re basically fucked?” Jurian asked, biting a piece of toast with a smirk adorning his face.
“Precisely.” She motioned to Lucien. “Although our fire boy over there has a chance of killing him.”
“Me?” Lucien choked.
“Fire can kill a Valg, that’s how Aelin Galathynius killed Maeve, a Valg Queen.” She said it like it was obvious.
“And you want me to Aelin my way into killing Koschei?” Y/N laughed.
“Yeah, she burned Maeve from inside out.”
“I don’t know if I can do that.” He protested.
“Then i suggest you find out very quickly cuz we need to kill him as soon as possible.” She shrugged. “But no pressure.”
“Yeah, no pressure.” Lucien mumbled underneath his breath, taking another sip of his hot coffee.
“So who’s ready to have a tour of Koschei’s lair?” Jurian asked, excitedly getting up and clapping his hands, the groans he received as an answer just made him smile wider.
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
The cabin was made from dark wood, ageing poorly with time, the roof was covered in pine needles and the yard really needed a trim to look decent, what connected the land with the island that held the big cabin was a very old bridge, and a dark lake surrounded the area, like the Mother had forgotten about that place too.
“This smells so awful.” Azriel said, scrunching his nose in clear disgust, the smell was putrid, like death. Exactly like the Valg smelled.
“Did it always have this smell?” She asked the males behind her.
“Gets worse every day.” Lucien replied.
“Especially when he releases those things.” Jurian added, making her whip her head back to look at him.
“What things?” Jurian started to describe the monsters he saw coming out, a wide variety of horrors with long claws, sharp teeth and bloodthirst.
“We kill some, but others disappear. Maybe they get killed in the courts, we don't know what they want.” Lucien explained and she nodded.
“Fuck.” She cursed. “If he's indeed after Nesta’s power, this is his way to guarantee an army before he can open that damned gate.”
“How are you so sure he has a key?” Jurian inquired, eyebrows raised in suspicion.
“He got here somehow, he has the original key he had before he was bound to that lake. He has to.” It only made sense that he still had the key, if he was trying so hard to free himself.
“She has a point.” Lucien waved his hands and Jurian rolled his eyes, mouthing the words back to him in a mockery tone, prompting the male to crack a smile.
“Shhhh, someone is coming.” Azriel shut the conversation down and everyone turned to see.
It was like time had come to a stop, cold spread across her body, freezing her in place as she took the male in. Short golden-blonde hair, ivory skin, broad shoulders and a sculpted body showing through the thin tunic he wore. Beautiful, lethally beautiful like Erawan was. He took a look around, and shining against the sun, his gold eyes, just like Manon’s and just like his younger brother. The eyes of a king.
He stretched his muscles and turned his head towards the sun, letting it warm his skin. A lazy smile appeared on his face and he turned his head towards them, with his eyes closed and a very deep voice, he spoke.
“I don't like being watched.” He opened one of his eyes, looking directly into hers.
She motioned for the males to keep quiet and stay in their place, kicking Azriel’s hands away when he tried to grab her ankle. She got up, climbing the hill they were hiding and started to walk in silence, stopping over the edge of the bridge. The male turned to her with a curious gaze.
“You're not from here, you smell different.” He smiled sweetly at her.
“I changed my soap yesterday, thanks for noticing.” She snickered and he openly laughed.
“What a delight having someone so fun around.” He extended a hand to her, inviting her in, but she stayed rooted in place. “Aren't you here to see me?”
“Yes.”
“Then come here, darling.” Azriel cursed as his shadows informed him that she started to cross the bridge, towards Koschei’ open hand. “What can I do for you?” His voice resonated through the trees.
“I've heard you can take all the pain away.” She replied, lies spilling from her plump lips.
“You came to the right place, my sweet creature.” His hands wrapped around hers, and she almost flinched with how cold it was against her warm, sweaty and shaking hand.
He pulled her hand towards his lips, kissing it with his eyes still locked with hers. He smiled again, pulling her closer to him, towards the open door of the cabin, exactly like she wanted.
“Allow me to properly introduce myself.” He bowed his head a little. “Despite the people of this land calling me Koschei, my name is Mantyx.”
She almost froze with the name, swallowing past the lump in her throat and forcing her legs to walk inside the cabin. Azriel watched in horror as she disappeared inside, the door closing itself after them, locking her inside with him.
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
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#azriel#shadowsinger#azriel x reader#moonlightazriel#sarahjmaas#azriel shadowsinger#night court#velaris#azriel x y/n#acotar#azriel acotar#azriel fanfic#worlds apart fic
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Missed target - Azriel
Here it is! So many people asked to be tagged on this I got OVERWHELMED. Thanks for the love!I'm thinking about a second part where Azriel decides to repeat all the missed efforts and treat you like the queen you are. Let me know what you think.
Plot: Azriel is convinced Elain was made for him. Three sisters for three brothers, and no one can make him change his mind. But someone or something is determinated to change the course of fate on his behalf. No matter how hard he tries.
The Suriel 1
The Suriel watched the shadowsinger sharpen his blades in the forest, oblivious to his presence. Not even his shadows could detect the ancient creature, and he was proud of that. Of all the beings that he had seen, all the people that had summoned him, Azriel was who drew his curiosity.
Maybe the male in front of him didn’t remember, or maybe he did but had decided not to tell a soul about it. The Suriel did remember, and he had been observing since that night where a young, scarred and devasted Azriel had summoned him.
“What is wrong with me? Why does nobody love me? I want to know – I want to know if someone will love me, please”
The child didn’t understand what a Suriel was, or what type of questions he could answer. Still, the Suriel held the sobbing kid for one night, just one night, and let himself wonder what would it be to feel, to dream, like fae and humans did.
Something changed in the male’s stance, a muscle twitching in his left wing, and the Suriel knew he didn’t have much time left before he was noticed. He risked another glance at the unmoving figure, shadows surrounding the clearing where he stood.
As he vanished from the sight, the Suriel smiled briefly, oddly happy that that kid’s broken questions were about to be answered.
Missed date
Azriel liked Elain, more than he should. He liked her innocence, the way her hair fell over her shoulder, her full lips and thin waist. He liked the dresses she wore and the flowers she grew, even the way her voice sounded when she said his name. He liked liked her, and felt like a foolish teen when she was around.
Rhysand had warned him against it, and the Archeron sister had a mate – but still, Azriel hoped Elain would like him back. Even though he had been with plenty of women before, that time it felt different, and he didn’t know why.
Ignoring the signs against his desires, he had decided to act on his feelings.
Azriel had invited Elain to have dinner with him that night, in a lovely restaurant in Velaris. Sure, he might have said Cassian and Nesta were coming, and then proceeded to invite the couple knowing they wouldn’t even make it out of the bedroom with their clothes on. The plan had gone just fine – Cassian and Nesta had talked about it during lunch time, giving the impression it was just a friendly dinner, and then proceeded to lock themselves in their room for the rest of the day. Elain had smiled and asked about the hour, and Azriel had chosen his best shirt.
But the Cauldron musth have had other plans, because another minute passed by and he was sitting by himself in the restaurant, getting strange looks from the staff.
“Are you ready to order?”
He looked up to the waiter, with a tight smile on his face. Azriel guessed they were debating if kicking him out was worth angering the spymaster of the court.
“Still waiting” he grumbled, looking to the closed doors. “What time is it?”
“Nine thirty, sir. Would you like to… drink something?”
“Water is fine”
They had agreed to meet at nine, and part of him refused to think he had been stood up. That sweet, charming Elain who blushed under his gaze wouldn’t show up. He tried to come up with a reason behind her absence, and was sure there was a reasonable one, but he felt his excitement die as the clock ticked away.
Azriel pursed his lips when the waiter didn’t leave, not meeting his eyes. He would leave, but he would wait a little longer. For her sake, he would wait until the sun came up. The male cleared his throat and Azriel stared at the plants decorating the entrance.
It was a nice plant.
“Is the person you’re waiting for coming soon?”
“If she was, I wouldn’t be waiting here” his words were bitter, not towards the waiter, but at the situation.
“Maybe you could move to the counter and wait there, sir? I… there are customers waiting and – “
Before the man could dig his own grave further, Azriel pushed his chair back and walked towards said counter with his jacket on his arm. He refused to look at the waiter and let him know just how embarrassed he was, how disappointed in himself and in her.
The restaurant had a small counter where some couples shared their food and friends drank loudly. He damned his luck for choosing the busiest day to be stood up. Scanning the crowd, he found an empty seat at the corner and sat on a stool, ordering a beer.
Alcohol would only make it worse, but he guessed he was already done for. Ten more minutes, he promised himself. If Elain didn’t walk through those doors in the next ten minutes, he would leave and apologize to Rhys for his stubbornness.
Two minutes passed by, and he grew sick of watching the couple in front of him giggling in secrets.
Another three, and he counted each plant that decorated the restaurant. There were twenty-five without the artificial ones.
Seven minutes after his first beer, the waiter asked him if he wanted anything else and he just growled back.
His fingers were clenching painfully around the hem of his jacket when the ten minutes passed by. He was ready to get up when something sweet and floral hit his nose, leaving his mind blank for a second. Azriel blinked surprised at the smell, distinct from the elegant ones in the restaurant. With half smile, he turned to his right hoping to see Elain, pleasantly surprised with her choice of perfume.
Only that the woman who sat next to him wasn’t Elain, but another fae woman with a similar smell. Azriel scanned her outfit before you noticed him, before he could reprimand himself for checking you out.
You were wearing a loose blue and bright skirt with an elegant top, that left part of your collarbone visible. He felt something rush to his chest up to his cheeks while he stared at the smooth skin, and he willed himself to look up to your face.
“Guess this is where they discard the stood up, hm?” you looked at him and he blinked surprised. “I’ve been sitting next to the window for an hour now. I don’t think he’s showing up”
“Who?” Azriel asked dumbly, not thinking anything better.
“My friend set me up on a blind date, but he didn’t show up. At least the bread was good” you shrugged, finally looking away from Azriel. “Hi. Can I get a soda?”
Azriel felt his previous resolution of leaving the restaurant dissolve. You smelt just like her, but so different at the same time. Your voice still reverberated on his chest as you waited for your drink, stealing glances at the silent male at your side. It was strange for him to have his throat swallowing back the words that he wanted to say, have his mind blank of any comeback.
But as he stared at you, he wondered if you were a witch and had casted a spell on him.
“Are you… my date?” you finally asked when your soda came back, looking him up and down. “I’ve seen you standing here for a while”
“I’m Azriel”
“I don’t know the name of my date” you stated, and Azriel just prayed that you wouldn’t notice the shadows he couldn’t control revolving around your feet. “I’m Y/N”
“No”
He begged himself to say something else, to break the awkward silence or leave. After all, he had gone to that restaurant to meet Elain, not a stranger who had been stood up. But all the wit and intelligence that had won him the title of Shadowsinger and Spymaster seemed to seep away through his pores, and he couldn’t get back any of it.
You smiled at him tightly and turned to look around, finally breaking eye contact. Azriel got up without saying anything else and walked towards the doors, leaving a generous amount of money on the counter. You didn’t say goodbye and he didn’t bother looking back, his body stiff with your awkward encounter.
When he arrived to the house, he found a very regretful and very sick Elain who had been in bed all afternoon. She apologized again and again until he forced her back in bed and tucked her in. They agreed they would repeat again, sometime, but Azriel found himself less excited than that morning. He didn’t blame her – he couldn’t, when he had seen how her knees trembled with coughs and had heard her stuffy voice.
As he laid down that night in this enormous bed, his shadows didn’t whisper about Elain or brought back her smell, that most nights didn’t let him sleep. They caressed his hands in silence, with the memory of a sweet, floral smell that didn’t belong to the girl he liked.
The market
Rhysand and Cassian were away for a week, and while Azriel usually missed his brothers, that time he was beyond himself. Not only he wouldn’t be hearing Nesta and Cassian’s late-night activities, but he would be alone with his favorite Archeron sister, since Feyre and Nesta had decided to leave too.
There were plans for them, big ideas that he had crafted the previous night as he laid awake in the dark. The first one, most important, would be to find an excuse to talk to Elain.
She had left for the market as Azriel completed his morning training, and the male didn’t miss how she blushed at his presence. She had explained briefly her plans to him and had left in a rush. Azriel, who religiously trained each day, decided to postpone his activities and refill the house’s pantry.
It took him a while to come up with something to buy, even longer to gather the courage to follow his plan. By the time he was walking through the lively market-street, he was certain Elain would be leaving.
But he was lucky, because he spotted the familiar head a few stands away. Azriel felt the usual acceleration of his heart rhythm, the blood rushing to his head. His wings fluttered and he walked with little decision to where Elain was buying some fruits.
It seemed, with so little decision, that she moved away before he could reach him.
The game of cat and mouse continued for what felt like forever, Azriel only sniffling her before she left to a new stand. The street seemed endless, and the buyers too talkative and pushy. They bumped against his wings, apologized, and proceeded to block his way in awe for five to ten seconds.
When he saw Elain holding enough bags to cause him a backpain, he decided pushing people in return was worthy and walked faster.
Before she could complain, he picked up her bags from her arms carefully, resisting the urge of flinching at how heavy they were.
“Here, let me” Azriel extended his free arm, watching without looking up as it filled slowly with more bags. “These are heavy. What do we need so much food for?”
“Are you planning to eat it with me?”
Azriel looked up and stared into a pair of bright eyes that certainly weren’t Elain’s. Nor was your hair pulled back in a ribbon, or the worn-out cape hanging from your frame. His shadows helpfully recognized you from the missed date and awkward encounter, and he blinked surprised.
He opened and closed his mouth. Proudly, he could argue that only few times someone managed to make him speechless. But he didn’t find anything to say as he held half of your bags, looking a caught thief.
Your smile lowered at his surprise. Surely, you expected a kind stranger helping you with your heavy groceries, not him. Just as he didn’t expect you.
“Can I… have that back?” you asked when he didn’t move, only stared at you. “Please?”
The standard, cordial reaction would have been to apologize and carry the bags for you. If Azriel’s brain hadn’t stopped functioning, he would have explained he had confused you with someone else and would be on his merry way to find Elain.
But his heart wouldn’t stop beating stubbornly against his chest, loudly on his ears. His shadows, that you had noticed by now, were tangling themselves between your knees, holding part of the weight themselves.
He tried not to make it too obvious when he inhaled your essence, so characteristically nice. Instead of doing any of the rational things, he dropped your bags to the ground with a loud crack and a wet splash and turned around, disappearing into the crowd.
The flowers
Feyre had given him the directions, and he had quickly written them on a piece of paper as his high-lady prepared Nyx’s bottle, cradled the fussy baby and ate her own breakfast.
He was extremely thankful for her help, because she had also had the idea to give Elain a bouquet of flowers. Azriel felt bad about ignoring her for the two days they were alone, too busy trying to regain what was left of his dignity after the market. So, he had prepared the flowers and put them together with a blue ribbon, and had asked Feyre where Elain was staying.
He had walked through the streets of Velaris with a content smile, humming to himself in silence. His shadows were active that morning, dancing between his feet and knees, and tangling themselves in the flowers. He couldn’t explain the sudden urge of joy if not for the imminent encounter with Elain, who had been on his mind for two days straight.
The rays of sun warmed his cheeks, and he felt extremely lucky.
It only took him ten minutes to reach his destination, a busy street in the center of the town. People sneaked glances at him and whispered, as if he wouldn’t hear them. Azriel stopped in front of a white wooden door. It looked old and worn, and matched the pots with flowers on the window. It was a cozy house, exactly what Azriel had imagined Elain’s house to be.
She had moved out a few months ago, claiming she needed her own space. And he had yet to visit her place – which, once he realized he was about to do it for the first time, made him kind of nervous.
Azriel stood in front of the door, his frame covering the whole space. Between his shoulders and wings he shadowed it, and he felt weirdly insecure. Something fell to the ground inside, probably a bag, and even though he knew Elain would be inside, Azriel recoiled back.
In a pathetic attempt to make his intention known, he raised his fist.
Knock, give her the flowers, apologize, leave.
Don’t throw them on her like a burning pot.
Knock, give her the flowers, apologize, leave.
Try to smile without looking creepy.
Knock, give her the flowers, apologize, leave.
He heard soft humming from the inside, and the fact that it was the exact same melody he had been humming on his way there threatened to give him a heart attack. Before he could think better, he quickly searched his pocket for a pen while trashing for the tag of the bouquet.
In the meantime, he heard the humming coming closer and closer to the door. It was a sweet melody, one he had loved since he was a kid, that brought a selfish smile to his face. Who was the world to tell him they weren’t meant to be, if their minds aligned like that?
Azriel found the pen and, leaning against the brick wall, scribbled down a quick note on the tag. His handwritten was shaky, not neat nor perfect, and he felt a bead of sweat rolling down the corner of his neck.
Once he was finished, he tucked the tag between the stems and placed the bouquet delicately on the ground. He mentally kicked himself at his stupidity, and when he rose back, he crossed his arms in front of his chest.
He was the shadowsinger. The spymaster. People feared him, respected him, and he had had enough women in his bed to know he could get them. They liked him, men and women, and he had never had an issue before. And there he was, leaving a bouquet of flowers like a coward because he couldn’t knock.
All because of the stupid melody.
His impulsive thoughts won again and he crouched to write down his name at the bottom of the note. Only having his good luck ran out and knock his head against a pot when he rose back up. Azriel cursed under his breath at the sharp pain, but wasn’t fast enough to catch the pot.
He didn’t know what worried him most – that he was sad because the humming stopped, or that it stopped. Azriel didn’t need his fae hearing or shadows to hear the approaching steps, and he quickly retreated into the darkness. Just as he appeared in the other corner of the streets, hidden from the public’s eye, the door opened.
“Hello?”
Azriel let his lips part in surprise when Elain didn’t peer at the street, but you. The stranger with a memorizing smell that had been stood up. The girl whose bags he had dropped in the middle of the street.
You were wearing a stained apron, and had been clearly cooking. Azriel felt the sudden need to know what. What you were doing that made you look like that, that made Azriel’s rebellious heart jump.
He watched as you looked to both sides of the street, smiling to acquittances and finally noticing the bouquet. Your eyebrows almost rose to your hairline and an adorable shade of pink covered your chest. You quickly covered your mouth, but Azriel’s bones reverberated at the sound of your giggle. He found himself wondering if you were curling your toes in your shoes.
Leaning down, you picked the flowers and Azriel’s stupid smile, that had no right to be on his face, dropped.
He had signed it.
Your eyes scanned the tag and read through his words at a sickening speed. Sorry about last week, hope I wasn’t too much of a dick. Yours, Azriel
His shadows swallowed him before he could ask the Cauldron to dig a hole and swallowed him, but he could still see your content smile and have the utter and complete realization that your smile shadowed Elain’s.
The dance
“When have you ever cleaned up so nice?” Cassian asked him as he invaded his room, with no warning.
“Whenever you’re not around to see it” he answered back, not tearing his eyes away from his tie’s knot on the mirror. “So I don’t eclipse you”
Cassian scoffed and threw himself on the perfectly made bed. Azriel didn’t bother asking him to move, because while any other time he would have kicked him out, his bed was the farthest point from his work desk. Where, between patrol reports and court’s correspondence, were a month’s worth of letters between you two.
His hands trembled even more at the thought of his brother finding about it. He was already nervous enough at the premise of dancing with Elain tonight, at the thought of her wearing the bracelet he had sent her that matched his tie. Azriel didn’t need to think about the pointless, certainly not important letters that he shared with you.
“Nesta has kicked me out of our room” the male proclaimed. “She’s determinated to get to the ball on time. As if me not seeing her now would change our early departure”
“You’re disgusting” Azriel met his brother’s stare through the mirror.
“And you’re jealous. When was the last time you got laid?” Cassian raised her eyebrows suggestibly. “Anyone in mind for this particularly night?”
“Nesta, if you leave her unsatisfied”
“Can it be me if I’m unsatisfied?”
Cassian’s laugh boomed through the room and took Azriel’s mind out of the last hours’ frenzy. He had wanted to be excited, had been thinking about Feyre’s birthday ball for months now. Thinking about how Elain and him would dance, proving Rhysand that they were a match and should be together.
Indeed, Azriel had been excited about it until a month ago. When he found himself cutting his encounters with Elain short when a note came through, falling asleep with thoughts of a different woman on his mind.
He hadn’t seen you since the incident of the flowers, and his intention was to never see you again. But then, he had found a note on his training room, delivered by Nuala. I’m glad we both agree you were a dick that day, but if my forgiveness has you loosing nights of sleep, I forgive you. Although, for the next time, don’t be disappearing from a crime scene – those flowers were expensive.
Azriel had found it and had scoffed a laugh, a sound foreign to his ears. He had replied and had sent Nuala back to your house, with an apologetic smile.
Seems that I keep encountering you when I don’t mean to. Those flowers were for someone else, but I’m happy to hear that I will be sleeping soundly from now on. Sorry for your pot. If it makes you feel better, fate was my witness and gifted me with a nasty bump.
Two notes evolved to another two, then to four more, and suddenly, Azriel found himself sending you noted almost every day, sharing stupid facts and reading about your day.
“Is it because Elain?”
The mood was broken and shattered at the word of the fae, and Azriel finished his knot to turn and look at Cassian.
“Don’t judge me. I’m not Rhys ‘don’t you dare to touch my sis-in-law’ or Mor ‘bad choices are made’” Cassian lifted his arms slightly. “I’m just curious”
“Am I cleaning up nice for my high-lady and friend’s birthday ball? Yes, unlike you, I do care about having a clean presence” he looked down to his jacket. “Your shirt is stained with Nesta’s lipstick”
“Oh, I plan to let her stain more than my shirt” he chuckled.
Azriel rolled his eyes and turned towards the door without saying anything else.
He walked with Cassian through the long hallways until they reached the main hall, talking about training and pointless topics. The usual knot on his stomach loosened a bit when he was with him, even if he wouldn’t say it out loud. He knew Cassian only looked for him in those social events for his sake – because he knew how much Azriel struggled with the attention, with the looks.
For the first minutes, he stood by his side silently as Cassian greeted different people that Azriel didn’t want to talk with. He engaged short conversations with his family, laughed softly at Mor’s attempt of escaping with the wine, and entertained Nyx briefly.
He kept looking at the main doors, waiting for Elain to walk through so he could regain that excitement, that want, that seemed to seep through his fingers lately.
When the first dance started, Rhysand took Feyre’s hand and dragged her through the floor, looking like a regius couple. Mor took a giggling Nyx in her arms and danced in the corner, and Cassian used the opportunity to sneak with Nesta.
Azriel quickly found himself in the middle of dancing couples, and he swore the knot of his tie got tighter. He looked around for Elain, tried to identify her sweet smell or long hair, but he didn’t find her.
“She’s not coming, you know?” Amren’s voice appeared to her right, and he turned to find her leaning against a wall.
“Who’s not coming?”
“Elain” she explained. “She left yesterday with Lucien to get to know his court. Thought you, of all people, should know”
Had he been so out of it that he hadn’t notice it? Had he tried so hard to think about her that he hadn’t talked to her? He tried to think of a conversation where Elain told him that she wouldn’t be assisting, but he realized that he hadn’t talked to her in the last few days.
Actually, he had just sent the bracelet and guessed she would wear it. Part of his excitement wore down at the news, and he regretted agreeing to the ball.
Amren raised a brow at his fallen expression.
“Are you still after her, boy? Knowing she has a mate?” she inquired. “Thought you were smarter than that”
“You don’t understand. None of you do” he said, trying to sound angry. Trying to sound convinced, as convinced as he had been when he met her, but his voice sounded deflected.
“Maybe we don’t, but don’t fool yourself thinking the Cauldron makes mistakes. You’re not above its power”
Azriel scoffed at the answer he had heard before too many times, and faced away from Amren. She could try to convince him all she wanted, but his mind was up. As he walked out of the room, evading dancing couples, he forced the disappointment down his chest, where most of his feelings lay forgotten.
Of course she wouldn’t come. Of course, all those glances meant she was nervous around him, not reciprocated feelings. Of course, someone like Azriel wouldn’t end up with someone like her.
He loosened his tie briefly as he exited the ball, only to stop close to the entrance. He looked back at his family, dancing happily in the main floor. Even Amren, who didn’t dance, talked with a content half-smile to Varian, who had attended in behalf of his court.
Through all his centuries, all he had wanted was to have someone to dance with. To hold while the world fell apart, not to endure it on his own. Azriel felt a rebel knot climb to his throat, making the sight in front of him blurry.
Like a fool, he had thought Elain would be that person. After Mor, he thought he had found his person. Azriel looked once more to the ball before hastily turning around and colliding full force with a person entering the ball.
“Damnit!”
“Careful – “
Azriel didn’t get to stop the body falling to the ground, and he almost fell right above it. He gathered his footing back before he could cause more damage, and looked down to the incomer.
Something in his chest cracked when he saw the color of the dress pooling in the ground, the same one he wore on his loosened tie. The exact same color in the bracelet now forgotten in Elain’s room, that he had chosen so carefully and thoughtfully. He blinked past the initial shock and muttered an apologetic smile, offering his hand.
His eyes traveled up the wrinkled but beautiful dress to an exposed cleavage adorned with a simple blue gem. He didn’t register the similarities with his own siphons when his eyes met yours, both widened at the same time.
Centuries of waiting, of uncertainty, were suddenly nothing when the bond snapped loud in his soul. It rattled his bones and threatened to send him to the ground too.
“Y/N” he whispered, the room around him quietened. It was the first time he said your name out loud, and it felt divine on his lips. “What…?”
“Hm, Feyre’s birthday” you accepted his hand and let him pull you up, and he almost sent you crashing against his chest. “She invited me”
“That’s good”
Your eyes didn’t leave his for a while, as the bond settled for the two of you. Something had called you when you saw that dress, hanging beautifully in the window’s shop. You never wore that color, never attended to those parties. But the premise of seeing the owner of the notes you had been receiving lately, who your friends were tired of hearing about, was too appealing.
Somehow, buying that dress, coming late to the ball because of pointless delays, felt like a trick of fate.
“The bond” Azriel supplied uselessly, and you nodded for moral support way too enthusiastically.
“Yeah. It’s… here” you pressed your free hand against your chest, squeezing the one trapped in Azriel’s warm grip. “I didn’t think it would feel like this”
“It feels right”
Azriel couldn’t explain what had been missing until now. A void that had lived for so long in a place he couldn’t reach that now pulsated loudly where he needed it. He expected to be nervous, to be overjoyed, but above all of that, Azriel felt calm. At peace with himself as he stared into your eyes.
Time didn’t exist and the rest of the world was insignificant, only you mattered. And he could have spent an eternity looking at you if you hadn’t taken the first step and hugged him. If he thought the snapping bond was intense, your body against him robbed his breath.
His hand moved by itself to the back of your head, fingers tangling between your locks and pressing your face closer to him. The other arm rounded your waist, until you both belonged together like one soul.
The song ended and you looked up from his arms. With a small smile, you looked down at the loosened tie.
“Would you like to dance?”
Azriel nodded quickly and turned his back to the exit, your hand in his. People stared, his family looked at him, but all he could see was how blind he had been not to notice you were what was missing.
The Suriel 2
In the busy morning, few people stopped to see what lurked in the shadows of Velaris. They walked and rushed to their meeting points, talked with friends and families in the corners, and enjoyed the sunny day in the square. They all held interesting stories, futures that the Suriel fed on.
But he didn’t look at any of them. Only at the male standing a few feet away from him. He was sure his shadows had noticed him by now, that they knew his scent and presence, but decided not to warn his master. After all, he was no threat, just a mere spectator of fate.
The shadowsinger seemed to doubt between two books from a stand. He was oblivious to the world around him, but the Suriel knew. He noticed how he had changed in just five months, how not only his scent screamed a mating bond but also his soul. The way he stood, walked, talked.
As if the world didn’t own him anything else, as if he was finally the main character of his story.
The tall, dangerous male picked up the thicker book and paid for it with a small smile. He asked the woman in charge of the stand for a blue ribbon and tied the bag with it. Azriel turned around and distanced himself from the Suriel, not noticing his looming presence. But as he got farther and farther away from him, the Suriel was pleasantly surprised to notice shadows gathering at his feet, curious but not aggressive.
He showed them a terrifying smile, all teeth and cruelty – and still, they only brushed the torn parts of his cape in silent gratitude.
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Azriel x reader: Unchained[*]
A/N: it’s a mess because I had no idea where it was going when it started 😭
Warnings: Masturbation, shadow-play (absolute menaces), slight voyeurism, hand job + blowjob, smut, soft!Az?, biting, forced proximity?
Word count: 4,408
You glare at the shadows as they twine up your thighs, nudging your book out the way.
Rolling your eyes, smile on your lips, you return to your story, having just settled down to read. The second you remove your attention from them however, they’re knocking at your book again, flicking between your fingers, eventually loosening your grip enough it falls into your lap. Brow scrunches as you peer at the shadows, “what’s gotten into you today, hm? You’re normally so docile?”
The darkness dances around your fingers, nuzzling against the dip of your palm, making you laugh. “Is your master ignoring you again?” Lips stretch at the imagery—they sometimes get a little antsy when he buries himself in work, feeling lonely and neglected. As if in answer, the shadows scoot up your arms, wrapping around your shoulders, pushing between your shoulder blades. A laugh huffs from your mouth as you raise to your feet. “Okay, okay,” you chide, softly, “lead the way. But you know how he is, I doubt I’ll be able to do much other than maybe play with you for a little.”
A shadow lightly brushes the crest of your cheek, making you smile despite the nerves building beneath your skin. He won’t be upset with you for disturbing him, will he? The last thing you want is to distract him. But if his shadows are the ones calling you… Teeth prod into your lower lip. Warmth dusts your cheeks, getting to see him.
Mindlessly, you allow the shadows to guide you through the hallways of the House of Wind, feet padding quietly along the floors as your lead deeper into the residence. Strangely, you note, they don’t seem to be taking you to his office—walk you straight past the door. Heart spikes as you realise the direction they’re pushing you in.
Hesitantly, you come to a stop, shadows carrying on for a little before halting, turning to watch you.
“Are you sure about this? Won’t he want privacy if he’s in there?” You murmur to them, worrying your bottom lip. Brow scrunches deeper, “he’s not bringing his work into his bedroom, is he now?” You ask, slightly exasperated. His private chambers should be where he’s allowed to relax for the little time he allows himself.
The shadows don’t reply. Merely press against the small of your back, gently encouraging you forward.
Reluctantly, you follow their guidance, a little unsure. But it’s his shadows; they wouldn’t do anything he wouldn’t be happy with. Reassured, you obediently pad along with them. Until you reach his door.
It’s already peeked open a crack, and his shadows drop to your feet, sliding off your body with a feather-light touch. Slinking across the floorboards, returning to their master.
Quietly—so as not to disturb him if he’s resting—you inch toward the door. It’s not wide enough for you to peer through the hinges, so your eyes find the mirror that reflects the wide expanse of his bedchambers. A strange scent catches your attention—deeper than what you’re accustomed to…muskier? You wish you knew what it meant, but you haven’t been granted enough access to him to figure it out. It’s not distressed, though, you note. That scent, you’re well-accustomed with.
Softly, you push the door a little wider, just a centimetre or two, revealing just enough of the mirror for his whereabouts to become apparent.
Eyes widen as you hold in your breath of shock.
He’s propped up on the bed, wings pinned behind his back to the headboard, arms bound near the base of his spine, and…and he’s—… There’s not a scrap of clothing on him. Save for the blindfold tied across his eyes.
Tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth as you take him in, blood spiking in your veins. Traitorously flushing your skin.
His shadows sweep over the muscled planes of his heavenly body, grazing his chest, threading through his inky black hair—head tips back ever so slightly, craning into the touch. His canines prick into one corner of his lower lip, skin whitening with the pressure as his back arches, stomach gleaming with sweat; flexing as his darkness—
You nearly stumble backward, exhaling a soft breath.
Mouth goes dry, watching his shadows swarm his cock, squeezing their master torturously. His cheeks flush with colour, a guttural moan ripping from his chest as they twist mercilessly. A low curse growls from his mouth as the darkness fists in his hair, dragging him backward to expose the strong column of his throat.
You shouldn’t be seeing this. Dear gods, you should not be seeing this.
Throat rolls, and you move to take a step back, when something else catches your attention.
At your feet is a small key, the kind that fits into each of the doors in the house. Azriel must have locked up before starting. But if that’s the case, how did—
Shadows build at your back, right as you piece together how eager they had been to drag you over to their master. Shove between your shoulder blades, forcing you to stumble into the room in order to right yourself. A yelp breaks from your chest as you collide with the door, tripping over your feet as you nearly topple over.
Instantly, you smack your hand over your mouth, but he’s already heard. Body stiffening. Shadows halting their games.
“Who’s there?” He snarls, letters ripping viscerally from between his teeth, arms flexing as he makes to remove the blindfold but— His shadows aren’t cooperating. They should have already unchained him by now, yet they’re remaining neatly wrapped around his cock, unwilling to halt his pleasure entirely.
Mortification flushes your cheeks, and you spin. Just in time to see the door slam shut, lock clicking. Key returned to its home.
You stare at the shadows as they slink away, darting back across the floor to reach him. Azriel.
The shadowsinger straightens, awareness lighting his skin as instinct kicks in—but not the one he needs. Arousal is still spiking his heart, shifting his scent, making his mind muddy and unclear. Opposite him, your eyes are darting about the room, trying desperately to find something to explain away the situation. Anything save for admitting you were watching him, then his shadows caught you. Though technically it had been them that had gotten you into this predicament. Surely that counts for something…
“I said,” he repeats, so rough it’s difficult to decipher, “who’s there?”
Heat flushes your cheeks. Maybe if you sneak to the exit…
“Cassian, you’re a dead male if you don’t fucking get out,” he snarls, making you halt. You sometimes forget how close they are. How peculiar their bonds are, too. You could never imagine being so comfortable with someone else.
Silently, you turn back to the door, tip-toeing forward, reaching for the key. Shadows bat your hands away, abruptly surging forward to lock around your waist, firmly guiding you back to the centre of the room. Just a few feet from the foot of his bed.
Azriel’s brow dips when he doesn’t get a reply. “Cass.”
You wonder if he can hear your heartbeat. It wouldn’t surprise you.
Shadows snare your ankles, and you inhale sharply, staring down as the writhe at your feet, pinning you in place. Azriel stiffens when your noise reaches his ears—definitely not Cassian. Nor Rhys.
Blood practically freezes when your name slides from his tongue, voice thick and rough. How did he figure it out so quickly?
You swallow, praying to the mother he’ll believe you that his shadows pushed you in here. Pushed you in, and unlocked his door. Then relocked it.
No way.
“Yeah…” you answer, voice catching. Clear your throat. Shadows stutter at the sound of you, squeezing his cock, making his jaw tense. He opens his mouth to speak, but you jump first. “Azriel I swear I didn’t mean to see anything,” you say, words pouring from your lips like they’re made of wildfire. “I was just—Your shadows were telling me to come see you, so I did, but then we went past your office and I was worried I would interrupt you, but they kept telling me to go forward, and then we got here, and I— They pushed me in, and I’m so sorry, I promise I… I’m so sorry…”
Humiliation crawls down your spine, carefully averting your eyes from between his legs.
Again, he opens his mouth to talk, but instead a sharp groan drags from his mouth, teeth biting his lower lip as shadows pulse around his cock, flicking over the slit in his head. Arousal zaps between your legs, skin buzzing as you try your hardest to think of something to keep your scent from shifting.
“Uh… I’m really sorry, but the door’s locked, and they’re not letting me—” You gasp as they raise higher, suddenly snaking up to your calves, crawling up to your thighs. “Azriel…” You squeak, freezing as they brush beneath your skirts.
The shadowsinger shakes his head, almost in dismay. “They do this sometimes. Misbehave when I let them off,” he bites out, chewing his lower lip—slightly swollen. “I need you to remove the blindfold. They’ll cooperate when they know I can see them,” he mutters.
Heat pools in your lower belly, but when you make to move forward, the shadows allow it. “Untie the blindfold and you’re sure you’ll be fine?” You mumble, quietly padding forward, skin tingling as you try not to look at him too much. How devastatingly hungry he makes you.
Azriel nods, oblivious to your inner thoughts.
Despite shaky fingers, you make quick work of the blindfold, silk slipping easily from the knot, allowing your eyes to lock with blown out hazel. Pupils dilated from the darkness. You look away hastily.
Yet things only seem to get worse, much to your mutual embarrassment.
“I don’t know what they’re doing,” he grits out, sending a scathing glare to the idle darkness, content to remain snug around his cock, unwilling to click the key in the lock of his chain. You shake your head, “I’ll just undo them. Then you’ll be good to go, right?” Eyes lock again at the poor choice of words, and heat flushes your cheeks.
“If you’re comfortable…” he hedges, colour dusting his skin. At least you’re not alone in the awkwardness.
Nodding once, you crawl onto the bed, getting to your feet. The only way you’ll be able to reach the lock is by going down between his wings, as they’re blocking your access from the side. You try to ignore the heat that’s steadily building between your thighs. Pray Azriel won’t be able to tell as you lean over him, feet either side of his hips as you attempt to avoid the great wings at his back. They’re really fucking big though.
Fingers fumble, feeling for the chains, but darkness is shrouding him, making it nearly impossible to actually see what you’re doing. “Is there any way for you to at least remove them from your arms? I’m struggling to see what’s where…” You brush skin, then zero in on it, tracing down to his wrists. “Wait— I think…” You lean further, his shoulders tensing, head shifting to make room as you reach for where you assume the iron is. “Okay… I can feel the locks,” you report, squinting in attempt to see what you’re touching. “Do you remember which one has the key in, Azriel?” You ask, trying to feel your way around.
Beneath you, the male has gone silent. Body rigid.
“Azriel?” You repeat, halting your movements. Pull back. “Azriel, what— Oh my gods.”
“I’m so sorry. They’re not—” He cuts himself off, hissing your name in warning. Just a second too late for you to register as his shadows hook around your hips, having crept up the backs of your thighs. You’re roughly yanked away from the chains, pulled with enough force to make you—
“Motherfucker!” You hiss, collapsing into his lap, shadows still working him with agonising slowness.
In any other scenario, Azriel would have released a surprised laugh at hearing the foul curse coming from your mouth. Instead, his cock twitches, unaccustomed to hearing such a filthy word on your tongue.
Both of you stiffen with the proximity, eyes locking and widening as scents twine. Gazes break, hastily snapping away. Clear your throat.
“Should I— I mean, should I get Cass? Or maybe Rhys’ll know what to do?” You manage, voice heavy and thick. Azriel shakes his head. “They’ll never let me live this down,” he mutters, muscle flexing as he shifts beneath you. “Maybe you should just let them continue…” you murmur, heat flushing your cheeks as hazel cuts to you. Swallow once. “I mean, that’s what they’re doing, right? Trying to get you to—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” he grits out, colour tinting his skin. Hisses when his shadows squeeze him in reprimand. Then stop entirely. Stubborn things.
Azriel’s chest rises up and down, sweat gleaming in the low light, your temperature increasing.
“Do you… Can I help?”
Hazel stares at you, making you want to steal the words back from the world. Open your mouth to apologise…
“You…” Muscle feathers in his jaw. Eyes flick to his shadows. One curls around his ear. Attention snaps to you, nostrils flaring delicately. “I would appreciate it,” he manages stiffly, still staring at you.
Mother strike you down.
Push away embarrassment, shifting in his lap, settling between his legs. Swallow once, wapping your hand around him. “I’m not sure what… Please tell me what you like.” Azriel sucks in a shaky breath, sending a free wave of his arousal wrapping around you, clouding your mind. “Firmer,” he instructs after you move your hand over him. He shudders, darkness stuttering at his back, brows digging together. “More,” he manages, sounding strained.
You grip him tighter, repeating the action, heart pounding as you watch his responses. His teeth biting into his lip, eyes pressed shut in attempts to manage his pleasure. Why is he wanting to stay in control when the whole point is to lose it?
That certainly won’t do.
Again, you shift, lips parting as your tongue flicks over the slit in his head, tasting the moisture that’s gathered there.
Azriel swears under his breath, feeling the weight of his attention on you. Exhilaration lighting your blood at being the centre of his arousal. Legs part, allowing you more access, and you settle more comfortably—one arm wrapping beneath his thigh, free hand pumping what you know you won’t be able to swallow.
Shadows flicker, then yield entirely as you slide down onto him, taking him into your mouth, tongue shifting against the underside. Tension melts from his body, slumping slightly against the headboard as he twitches. A guttural moan rips from his throat as you flick your wet muscle just beneath his head, hand pumping his base, fingers soothing brushing against his hip bone. Gentle and torturous.
Your name slips from his tongue, deep and rough. “I can’t—… I’m—” You hum comfortingly, encouraging him along. Shadows flick over the backs of your thighs, spurring you to take him as deep as you can, throat flexing around him as he twitches. His hips buck, causing a small gagging sound to whimper from you, and he groans. Without hesitating, he repeats the action, bucking up into your mouth, needing a repeat. Throat contracts, squeezing him as you whine, tears building at the edges of your vision.
When you pull to his tip, then slide back down, his restraint snaps, cum spurting from his tip as he sinks back against the bed, head tipping to expose the strong column as it bobs. Chest rises and falls deeply, panting as euphoria concentrates his blood, blinding pleasure coating his skin. Eyes flutter as they roll upward, spine curving as you take him.
Slowly, you pull back, tongue flicking over your lips to catch anything you missed, lapping the remaining moisture from his head. Blown out hazel cuts into you, temperature spiking at the hunger he greets you with. “Where did you learn that?” He pants, eyes narrowing. You swallow; he tracks that, too. “It’d be a little embarrassing if I didn’t know at my age, don’t you think?” You counter, trying to bite back the heat that’s turned liquid between your thighs.
His throat rolls, eyes flicking downward—raking over you. Reassessing.
“Well,” you say hastily, “you should be good to—” Bite your tongue as shadows curiously play beneath your skirts, a single tendril sneaking beneath the band of your underwear, snapping it against your abdomen. His jaw ticks at the sound, knowing exactly what the darkness is doing to you. Right before his eyes.
“Will you…” Mother above, it’s much more difficult than he anticipated. With almost any other female, he would have no concerns at all. Shakes his head, straight to the point. “You enjoyed that.” He’s rewarded with the sound of you softly cursing, heat warming your skin, enough for him to shift with pleasure at the thought of sinking into you. How wet you must be from your scent.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “I can’t help it.”
Azriel swallows thickly. “Act on it.”
Eyes lock, breath catches in your lungs. “What?” The male shifts, wings twitching as he rearranges them. “I know you want to,” he breathes, eyes fluttering slightly as he pulls your scent into him. “So I’m giving you the okay.” Shadows flick against your inner thighs, making your head dip. He’s saying it’s fine…and Gods you want him so badly.
Azriel nearly sighs with relief when you hesitantly settle your palms on his shoulders, nearly groans with delight as you fully put yourself over his lap, thighs either side of his hips. For so long he’s been waiting for you to open yourself up to him, gently plying you apart with incessant determination. And now here you are at last, crawling into his lap, ready to take him. Sends a quiet prayer to the Mother, thankful for the relief sweeping in.
Pleasure builds beneath his skin as you pull your skirts up, inadvertently displaying yourself to his hungry eyes. How the cotton is suctioned to your heat, undoubtedly a patch of darkened fabric at your entrance. He can scent your arousal; guess at how wet you are.
Fingers dip between your legs, shadows pulling your skirts taut against your pretty hips, allowing you to push the cotton aside, letting his tip slot against the soft dip between your thighs. He exhales a shaky breath, chest rising and falling heavily, attention glued to your cunt, watching as you brace both hands on his shoulders, heart spiking at the contact. Feel as you try to slide down, taking him slowly, swallowing his head.
Teeth bite into your lip as you begin to settle your weight over him, already feeling how big he is. Suck your lower lip in, spine curving as you rise up, then settle down, repeating the actions until you can fully sit yourself in his lap. Hips pressed tight against the backs of your thighs. Mouth opens in pleasure, eyes fluttering as you clamp down around him.
“You okay?” He breathes softly, feeling how tight you are around him, despite the wetness that’s dripping down onto him. Nod your head, though your eyes are still slightly rolled. You look numb with pleasure, and he needs to grip your hips, be in control so he can slam you down onto his cock. Abuse the spots inside of you he has yet to discover.
Azriel calls your name softly; you try to blink away your stupor. Straighten your spine, weight shifting over him, moans pouring from your lips as he grazes a part of you that—fuck.
Shadows twine around your back, letting you rest against the tops of his thighs as you pant heavily, heat buzzing beneath your skin—clothes need to come off. “Azriel…” you whimper. “Azriel, can you…?” Darkness flicks over your hips, skating up your stomach, pulling loose strings and dragging the fabric away almost in the blink of an eye. Lips part in pleasure as you slump a little in relief, cock pressing deeper.
“I need you to untie me,” he whispers gently, colour flushing his cheeks. “Can you do that for me?”
Peek your eyes open enough to latch onto hazel, pupils blown out. Moans softly whine from your chest—how intimate he looks. Swallow, then lips part. Shake your head, smiling softly. Azriel’s hip buck with need, urging you to rethink your decision. Back arches, a louder moan bursting from your chest. Forcing him to watch as you come apart while his shadows slink across your skin. Tongue flicks out to wet his lips as darkness plays with your perky nipples. Pinching. Biting.
“Azriel…” you moan. He growls in frustration, tugging on the self-inflicted restraints, begging for them to magically undo. Furious with his shadows for daring to put him through this kind of torture.
“I need you to untie me, pretty thing,” he groans, watching as you swirl your hips, exploring how his cock can make you feel. “Untie me, then we can have some fun. Wouldn’t you like that?” Lips part as your eyes lift into a smile, a mix between a moan and a laugh bubbling out. Shift so your full weight is over his hips, forcing his head to tip back against the headboard, eyes squeezing together as he tries to keep his sanity.
“You’re the one who tied yourself up,” you purr drowsily, arms gliding over the broad expanse of his shoulders, briefly attaching your mouth to one of the many paths of ink trailing across his chest. Teeth drag across hot, tan skin, tongue flicking over his nipple, hips bucking sharply, a quiet gasp huffing from his nipped-raw lips. Again, canines dig into the skin, attempting to quiet himself, but he has neither his hands nor his shadows to aid him this time.
You lean forward, mouth opening over his own, taking his lower lip between your teeth, tugging lightly. Hazel locks onto you; you purr. Spine curving, breasts softly pressing against him, almost aching with pleasure. Roll your hips.
He gives you a dark glance, peering at you from beneath a narrowed brow, dark locks of hair curling. You moan, hands greedily exploring the muscle of his shoulders, dipping down his back. Hazel widens as you brush his wings. Lips slant against his own, tongue flicking against him, and he opens eagerly. Unable to form a defence against you now the soft pads of your fingertips are stimulating him in such an intimate way.
“Like that, Azzie?” You ask lazily, rolling your hips onto him. Mind numbing from pleasure. Cock nestled so deep inside of you. “You like this sort of thing, don’t you?” Pull away to peer at him, moving with lethargic grace. A mix between a groan and a whimper hums at the back of his throat, and you grind against him in response.
“Please…” he breathes, “untie me, torturous thing.”
The grin that spreads across your mouth has hope vanishing, forced to watch as you lean back onto him, weight again shifting. Forced to watch as you ride him to your own pleasure, unable to move you how he wants, watch as your eyes roll back. Nails dig into him, lightly catching the edge of his wing as you retreat, and he nearly reaches his high right then and there. But you retract, chasing your own orgasm, and then you’re fluttering around his cock, cunt spasming as pleasure concentrates in your veins.
It’s only once you’ve slumped back against his thighs that shadows click the key in the lock. And all at once, he’s free. Free to touch you, to grip and grope. Unchained.
A high-pitched moan spills from your mouth into his as he flips you onto your back, hungrily devouring you as you’re pressed into the bed. Hands grip your wrists tight, simulating the torture of his own experiences, pinning you to his bed as he cages you in. Hips drawing back, then slamming in. Tears spill from your eyes, running back into your hair as he fucks you within an inch of a second orgasm.
“Azriel!” You gasp, breath having trouble entering and exiting your lungs from sheer pleasure. Slams in to the hilt, hips grinding against you as he halts his movements. Back arches, bowing off the bed, baring your chest for him to put his teeth over. Canines close around one nipple, pulling and tugging while keeping himself nestled deep in your wet cunt. Tongue circles and flicks over the sensitive peak, suckling lightly before giving his attention to your other.
“Azriel, please…!” You pant, crying out for him to continue, attempting to buck your hips. Trying to stimulate some friction. Pulls away from your breasts, gleaming from attention of his hot, wet mouth. “What do you want?” He growls, hissing from the way you clamp around him at the deep, syrupy pour of his voice, how it licks between your thighs, zaps pleasure to your clit.
Eyes lock together, your own set bright and gleaming from tears. “Move…please. Go harder.” A rough chuckles drags from the back of his throat, carnal and animalistic. Spawning butterflies in your abdomen, fluttering wildly at this untamed side of him. Canines push into the supple skin of your neck, stamping in his mark, printing his ownership onto your body.
Hips drag back. Then slam in.
Mouth parts in pleasure, muscles trembling as the second wave crashes over you, eyes rolling back as he pounds into you. Overstimulation breaks across your skin, the same time you feel him twitch, hot spurts of cum spilling into you. Pumping you full as he continues to abuse you over and over, causing you to shake and tremble while he keeps you pinned to his bed.
It’s only when the last aftershock of pleasure has subsided that he allows you reprieve. Rolling you over so you’re atop him, lazing together in the aftermath of pleasure. The tangle of limbs you’ve created, the mess sticking you together. Shadows lick and flick over your skin, wanting to play. Wanting another turn.
Azriel’s tempted to let them, after the torture you put him through.
Let them return the favour.
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Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming
#Azriel#Azriel x reader#Azriel smut#Azriel x reader smut#Shadowsinger#Azriel shadowsinger#October#shadows#shadow play
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Practice On Me — Part Ten — Azriel x Reader
Summary: Poor Rhys gets cockblocked. Cassian and Azriel come to blows. Realisations dawn on Az that he doesn’t know what to do with. Kaeda’s not very good with rejection. Reader receives some unexpected support.
Word Count: 7.2k
Warnings: Depictions of violence and injury.
The male’s hand has found pride of place in Rhysand’s lap.
Currently, it sits on his thigh, but the temptation to inch it closer — closer — to that sweet prize between his legs is a lusty, burgeoning one.
A shame, truly, that they’re currently fully clothed and in the middle of the busy mead hall.
Rhys chews and swallows a mouthful of his dinner, a smirk toying with his lips as he glances at his most recent sexual conquest.
There’s enough heat in that gaze to set the whole of Windhaven blazing.
Zakai is a very pretty male, indeed, with rich dark skin and thick, long eyelashes for days. His tempting appearance is most certainly exacerbating this current haze of lust that has taken over him as of late, driven by a preference for males. It changes every now and then. Sometimes he favours males, other times he favours females.
Whatever takes his fancy, there’s always somebody to warm his bed.
“I do believe,” the future High Lord purrs, “that you’re trying to distract me from my dinner.”
Zakai’s full lips kick up into a smirk. “Maybe I am.”
“How terrible.” He leans in closer. “Depriving me of a nutritional meal. What of my sustenance?”
Zakai also leans in. “I have something else you can wrap that pretty mouth around. I think you’ll find it to be more than adequate.” So boldly, as if no one else is around, he snaps out and drags Rhys’s bottom lip between his teeth.
Rhys makes a low noise, food all but forgotten—
But a kiss never comes to fruition as they’re shoved apart, and Cassian is slotting himself between them. “Your mother is here.” He steals Rhys’s plate. “Did you know?”
Rhys tamps down on the urge to slam his face into that food. “I would hope so, considering it was I who flew in with her.”
Cass hums. “We’ve been banished from the house for the time being.” He turns to Zakai. “Rhys will have to suck your dick elsewhere. May I suggest the pillory? He could even tie you up. Would be very kinky—”
“Banished?” Rhys quickly interrupts with a frown. “Why? Is my mother alright?”
“Roza’s fine. It’s Y/N. They’re having a serious talk.”
“About what?”
“Serious stuff, I guess.”
Cassian can be really, really frustrating sometimes.
Rhys shoots him a look that communicates precisely that. “What serious stuff? What did they say?”
“Roza called it girl talk.” Cass takes another huge bite, chews — and pauses in thought, “Do you think Y/N has been acting a little strange recently? Not her usual self.”
In all honesty, Rhys regrets not being around more, with all Y/N has had to contend with as of late. But even with him flitting between Windhaven and Velaris, he’s noticed a change.
A change amongst everyone, really. Something is…off.
“She has a lot going on. It’s hardly surprising.” He says, studying Cassian — the male is still in deep thought. “But I think there’s more than she’s letting on. I thought you would know more than I do, considering you’re around her more.”
Cassian says nothing. He chews and chews like he can no longer taste the food in his mouth, and he’s just giving it absolutely anything to do other than speak. Even Zakai shoots Rhys a look that says he’s not buying it.
“Shall I give you two some space to talk?” Rhys’s lover suggests.
Rhys dips his chin in gratitude. Makes sure that a little bit of heat still swims in his eyes — a suggestion of what’s to come, when he’s finished here. “I’ll come find you.” He promises.
Zakai winks. “I’ll be waiting by the pillory.” And with a shared laugh, he’s standing and strolling away.
Rhys turns back to Cass. He’s at least swallowed the mouthful of food, but there’s still a faraway look in his eyes. “What is it you’re thinking so hard about?”
Cassian just chews his bottom lip.
“Cass.” He gives a little kick to his leg. “If there’s something you know about Y/N—”
“I think I may have fucked up. Badly.” Finally, his friend turns to him. The severity on his face is…rare. Worrying. “Maybe I should have told you this before now, I don’t know. But…you see…Y/N and I…we—”
There’s no chance for him to complete the sentence.
Not as the mead hall’s huge wooden doors burst open, loudly and abruptly enough that conversation just ceases. Everyone turns. Azriel looms in the doorway.
He only becomes more of an intimidating figure as he gets older — anyone would be an idiot not to recognise that. But there’s something about him right now, like this, that has even the most steeled Illyrian warriors eyeing him cautiously.
Though his hair is wet-through from the snow, he’s not at all dressed for the cold weather. The casual, tight-fitting shirt and breeches will do very little to protect him from the brutal temperatures, and his tan skin is already pinkened where the icy air has bitten it.
But his eyes — his eyes are a blazing, churning inferno.
He looks huge in the doorway. Bigger than he ever has. His chest falls and rises heavily, and his fists clench at his sides. The firm set of his jaw is a warning. He hasn’t come here to play.
His boots thud harshly against the wooden floor as he storms in, and everyone watches, waits to see who the shadowsinger has a problem with, and what he’s going to do about it. He appears to have no weapons on him — a rare sight that only adds to the rugged, impulsive nature of how he looks right now. Like he forgot all else in his pursuit to come here.
What nobody is expecting is the way his dark, golden gaze zeroes in on Cassian. And the love that usually sits on Azriel’s face when looking at his brother has been replaced with something infinitely colder. Harsher. Angrier.
Dangerous.
Rhysand glances between them, recognising very quickly that something has occurred in his absence. He slowly rises from his seat.
“Az?” He says calmly. “You alright?”
No.
No, Azriel is not alright.
Everyone knows it. Cassian especially.
He’s staring back at his friend, and a thousand realisations pelt him that he genuinely did not consider before now. He’s got a terrible habit of acting first and thinking later. Of not looking at the bigger picture and considering every single person that might get hurt as a result of his actions. He doesn’t mean to be so thoughtless or impulsive. He’s gradually learning.
But as he drinks in the sight of Azriel, he somehow knows the source of his rage without it needing to be said. It never occurred to him before, but it does now.
Both he and Rhys have secretly speculated, over the years, whether something more might grow from the loving friendship between Azriel and Y/N. But time passed, and nothing came of it, and—and—
And with Kaeda on the scene, Cassian had assumed that no romance would be blossoming after all.
But that didn’t mean there weren’t still feelings there. Complicated feelings.
And in that moment, as Azriel stops at the table, the true weight of Cassian’s actions strikes him like a bolt of lightning.
He clears his throat, taking in the sight of him. Even his shadows are staying out of this. “Az—”
“Get up.” Azriel demands fiercely.
“I don’t know what you’ve been told—”
“I will not tell you twice, Cassian.” The shadowsinger’s eyes darken. “Get. The fuck. Up.”
Every single person is watching — waiting. Cassian doesn’t move.
And then he says quietly, “No.”
It’s not that he has any problem getting in a punch up with either of his brothers — Cauldron knows, it’s happened more times than any of them care to remember, where they’ve roughed each other up and resolved things quickly after. It’s just a method of Illyrian affection.
But this isn’t like that. This is hugely, frighteningly different.
This is serious.
Cassian is realising very quickly that he fucked up — not necessarily in the act, itself, of having sex with Y/N. They are both free, consenting adults, after all.
But if he’s guilty of anything, it’s of not thinking about who he might hurt with his decisions. And if he’d bothered to stop and think that night in the kitchen, he’d have known damn well that him having such relations with Y/N would be upsetting for Azriel. At the very least, Cass should have spoken to him first.
And that’s what he wants to do, now. Not fight. Not draw blood and leave bruises. Just…talk. Explain himself. Make it clear that he would never, ever intentionally hurt Az.
“I’m not fighting you.” He says, far quieter than his usual Cassian volume. “We should talk—”
Azriel’s lunging across the table and nipping that suggestion right in the bud. His fist goes flying so hard into Cassian’s jaw that his head snaps back. He barely has a chance to right himself before Az is throwing himself at him fully and knocking him to the floor.
“What the fuck is going on?” Rhys snaps, but neither of them seems to hear, and then the noise is picking up in the room and people are rising from their seats to get a closer look at the fight. Encouraging them with rowdy shouts.
This is no competitive brawl between friends. Through the gathering people, fists are swinging and blood is flying all over the place. Azriel is pummelling Cassian’s face over and over, and choked, angry words are leaving him as he does.
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?!” The shadowsinger seethes, throwing another punch. “You know—” Punch. “Know how I feel—” Punch. “And you still had to go and do it.”
Too much is happening at once for Rhys to put the pieces together. All he knows is that this is bad. All he can do is watch.
And Cassian is barely fighting back. He’s not interested in returning the punches. He just wants to put a stop to this.
“You knew. I know you knew.” Az then grabs him by the collar of his tunic, and he’s lifting him and slamming him back down against the floor, so hard that the whoosh of air that leaves Cassian can be heard across the hall. “Fuck. You. Cassian. Fuck you—”
“You—” Cass coughs blood at him. “You had Kaeda—”
“Piece of shit—”
“Perhaps…if you hadn’t been…so blinded by your fucking lust…forgot all about Y/N—”
Oh, that’s entirely the wrong thing to say.
A snarl is leaving Az, or maybe Cass, or perhaps both of them at the same time.
What happened leading up to this point was mere child’s play.
The two of them utterly lose it, and Cassian forgets all about talking and allows his temper to take over, and the real fight begins. Rhys is shoved back, stunned, as people try to push closer. All he can hear is the sound of his friends’ punches landing on each other. With more blood drawn, the noise becomes a sickly, wet one that tells him this is getting out of hand.
He barges his way through people, trying to get to the centre of the fray, but a noise is stopping him in his tracks.
“HEY!”
Somehow, his mother’s voice is loud enough, commanding enough, to reach every corner of the mead hall and wash over each and every occupant. Something about the raw order in her voice has everyone stopping. Quietening.
Even Cassian and Azriel cease their fighting. But they’re still exchanging harsh words that are compromised through split lips and mouthfuls of blood.
“Fucking vile—”
“I’m—sorry—Az—sorry—”
“That is enough.” Roza storms into the hall, a hand resting on her belly. She’s well and truly displaying the façade of the High Lord’s mate; someone not to be argued with. “Stand aside at once.”
If it weren’t for the serious nature of the situation, there might be something amusing about seeing honed Illyrian males slink back like threatened animals. But Rhys can only watch as they back away from Roza and lope back to their seats.
“Mother.” He turns to her, shaking his head in disbelief. “I have no idea what’s going on—”
Roza holds a hand up, cutting him off. She turns to Azriel and Cassian, who are now just staring at each other like sworn enemies.
“Off the fucking ground now.” She snaps.
Azriel’s eyes shutter. He’s breathing heavily. He hesitates, wants to go against the order.
But even through the red mist of anger, he respects Roza too much to do that.
Heaving a deep breath, he pushes off Cassian. Rises to his feet.
Roza jerks her chin at Cass. “Help him up.”
Azriel makes an incredulous sound. “He can get up himself—”
“Help him the fuck up, Azriel, before I bash your damn heads together.”
Az clenches his jaw. It might be childish that he refuses to look at Cassian as he juts a hand out, but he doesn’t fucking care. Nor does he care that he puts the bare minimum of strength into hauling him up off the floor.
As soon as Cass is on his feet, he’s shoving Azriel away from him.
“There are so many things I could say to you idiots right now.” Roza snaps. “But I’m way too pregnant for this shit, and I want to sit down.” She angles herself to Azriel. “You — go spend the night at the dormitories. Clean yourself up and calm down.” She turns back to Cassian, to Rhys. “The two of you are coming back to the cottage with me. I don’t give a shit about who said or did what. Don’t want to hear a peep out of any of you. Do I make myself clear?”
This is just a teensy bit humiliating — the three of them bowing their heads while they receive a scolding in front of their fellow Illyrians. But they’re not stupid enough to argue it.
They are stupid enough not to respond, though, and that only pisses Roza off more.
“Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear.” She thunders.
“Yes.” All three males intone.
“Good.” She steps back, nods at Azriel. “You first. Go. Dormitories. Now.”
Azriel sends one last, scathing glance at Cassian before stalking off. He limps out of the doors and into the snow — a fact that leaves Cassian feeling just a little smug.
“Get that damn look off your face, Cassian.” Roza narrows her eyes at him, and he quickly corrects himself. “And get moving. If you don’t get your asses back to the cottage this instant, I’m locking you out. Understood?”
Cassian says, “Yes, Roza.”
Rhys mumbles, “Didn’t even do anything.”
Roza looks at him like she wants to throttle him. And that’s enough for him to straighten himself out and offer his pregnant mother his arm. She takes it silently. Cassian moves to her other side.
“When we get back,” she says quietly, “the two of you better start explaining what the fuck has been going on in my absence.”
Neither males are exactly sure.
But they’re both wise enough not to say that.
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The steaming bath is supposed to soothe you, but it does not. Nothing can. Not even Rhys’s sweater that’s currently swallowing you up and encasing you in his scent.
And when you traipse down the worn wooden staircase at the first sound of voices, you feel like crying all over again. You hope for Azriel — hope he’s come back, willing to hear you out. But stepping into the living area, that tiny shred of hope evaporates.
Conversation ceases, and Rhys and Cassian are looking up at you from their respective spots on the couch. Roza is pottering around the kitchen.
At the first glimpse of Cass, your heart drops.
It’s not that you’re unused to seeing him roughed up, but this is…this is different. He’s clearly not riding on the wave of his normal post-brawl adrenaline. He looks downtrodden, hurt — both physically and emotionally.
Blood streaks from his face. He’s cut and bruised in numerous places. A gnarly black eye is beginning to show itself.
He finds interest in his hands. Can’t seem to bear looking at you.
“What—” Is all you’re able to gasp out, before you’re hurrying over, perching yourself on the coffee table before your two friends. You reach out. “Cass…what—”
“Take a wild guess.” He mutters, still not looking at you.
You angle yourself towards Rhys, looking for an answer. And the fact that you can’t read his expression…it threatens to cut you open.
“I don’t have a clue what’s going on.” He says with a shrug. “Clearly, nobody tells me anything.”
“Azriel did this.” You say quietly. It’s not a question.
“Yes. He did. Turned up at the mead hall and absolutely lost it.” Rhysand’s violet eyes flick between you and Cass. “And I’m guessing it has something to do with the two of you. Care to share?”
Your eyes shutter, because having to speak it aloud again might finish you off. But you suppose the worst has already happened. Azriel knows. You might as well share the truth with Rhys, also, and show him what a wretch you are.
You open your mouth, and unplanned words leave you in a rasp, “I shouldn’t have done it.”
Rhys studies you. “Done what?”
“We slept together.” Cassian finally speaks, wiping a strip of blood from his chin. “Y/N and I.”
You can’t stop your eyes roving over to Roza in the kitchen. Even though she already knows, a bolt of shame hits you all over again that she has to be present for this. Not only does she have far more pressing matters to worry about, but you simply cannot bear it — of all people you’d hate to let down, it’s her.
And she may have her back to you as she busies herself in the kitchen, but you know damn well she’s listening to every word.
Rhysand purses his lips, and he sits back, folding his arms. “Why?
“It just happened.” Cass shrugs. “Night we went to Fenlaros. Y/N was upset after the fight broke out, and I was helping her, and it just…happened. I didn’t think there would be a problem, given that neither of us are tied to anyone, but apparently it is a problem. Honestly, Azriel has no damn right. He’s been busy with Kaeda for months—”
“Yeah, Cass, but we also know it’s not a straightforward situation.” Violet eyes dance over to you. Back to Cassian. “Surely you must have known that he—”
“No, I didn’t, because like I said,” Cassian snaps, “he has no fucking right. What reason does he have to be angry with either of us? We don’t owe him shit. Y/N is a grown female. If she wants to fuck any one of us, that’s entirely her choice. It isn’t for him to dictate—”
“I don’t disagree, but—”
“Not to mention the fact that he’s passing these judgements from his cushy little high horse that he’s been fucking Kaeda atop of. I should have fucking given him hell back there, but I didn’t—”
“There’s more to it than that.” You cut in, every word slicing at you. You lower your gaze as the two males turn to you. “There’s…there’s more to it than you realise.”
Cass eyes you. And usually, he would reassure you — tell you not to put the blame on yourself.
He doesn’t.
He knows, just from looking at you, that he can’t.
He grits out through his teeth, “What.”
“Az has a right to be angry.” Your hands shake as you drag them over your face. Your eyes are red raw and sore from all the crying you’ve already done. “Not at you, though, Cass. It’s me. I…I’ve been so stupid.”
“Stupid how?”
“Azriel and I were engaging in sexual stuff, too. Okay?” The admission comes barrelling out of you. “It wasn’t planned. He asked me for…for some help. With his confidence. One thing led to another, and he and I were doing certain things. We didn’t sleep together, but we did other stuff. And it was all intended to help him approach such things with more confidence, but then I realised I wanted more, but he was interested in Kaeda, and I was upset and jealous and I just…I’m sorry. To both of you. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Utter silence.
Your friends stare at you. Even Roza turns around.
You think you’d prefer to be shouted at rather than this. They’re looking at you like…like they don’t know what to do with you, say to you, anymore.
And then Cassian laughs. Not humorously, but a bitter, soured laugh. He shakes his head. “So, what you’re saying was that you used me to forget about your feelings for Az?”
“No.” You shake your head. “I…it wasn’t like that. Not intentionally. You and I both know that what happened between us was impulsive…and unplanned…and it didn’t mean anything. It just happened—”
“Because you were upset about what happened in Fenlaros! You instigated the kiss! Am I to believe it was a coincidence that you did so after Azriel had just put on some valiant display of starting a fight over Kaeda?”
“Cassian.” Rhys warns quietly. “Don’t shout at her.”
“I told you,” Your voice is beginning to break, tears heating your eyes again, “that I was feeling shit about myself—”
Another brusque laugh, void of humour, cuts you off. “And what of earlier tonight?” Cassian demands. “When Roza walked in on me kneeled between your damn thighs. What led to that?”
“That is enough.” Roza stalks over, folding her arms. “I’ve been staying out of this so you can have an adult conversation, but I will not tolerate that disrespect under my roof. I won’t have you talking to Y/N like that, Cassian. Or any female for that matter.”
Cassian slumps back slightly, muttering a half-hearted apology. To Roza, not you.
But he has a point, doesn’t he? Having laid it all out to you like this.
You slept together because you were hurting and wanting to chase away your feelings. And he may have instigated what happened earlier tonight, but you reciprocated — because you wanted to chase away your feelings.
You used him. And the second you truly realise that fact, you feel sick to your stomach.
Tears drop into your lap as your eyes shutter. Shame is ravaging your body like a sickness. You wish you were somewhere, anywhere, else.
Wish you were someone, anyone, else.
“I’m sorry.” You whisper, and the words alone choke you up even more. “I am so sorry, Cass. I don’t—I shouldn’t have—”
You can’t get out whatever it is you want to say. The emotion is simply too much. A pain that is both mental and physical. It’ll eat away at you until you’re skin and bones. A husk of yourself.
There’s movement, and then someone is perching beside you. Wrapping an arm around you and tugging you into their side.
“Y/N…” Rhysand murmurs, resting his chin on your head. “Azriel should never have come to you for practice to use on another female. Why would you agree to that?”
You know precisely why. But you will not say it aloud again. Choking out those words to Roza was enough. They’ll only hurt even more.
You just cling to Rhys, and you cry harder.
And after a moment, it’s Cassian who’s sitting forward and answering Rhys’s question for you.
“Because you love him. Don’t you?” He’s so quiet. Painfully quiet. “You love Azriel.”
Yes, you want to scream at him, I love Azriel, and I wish I didn’t, because even if Kaeda didn’t exist, I would be the last person in the entirety of Prythian that he’d ever look at. Me with my ruined wings and broken soul. What do I have to offer? What could I ever give him that would be worth sticking around for?
But all you can manage is a soft cry. Rhys holds you tighter as your shoulders shake.
Roza takes the seat that he vacated, next to Cass. Her hand strokes over her belly. “Mistakes have clearly been made.” She speaks. “But believe me when I say that these things are not worth ruining such good friendships over. Ever. The bond that the four of you have is so, so special. Your love and support for each other is beautiful. And so, you may be angry at each other for a while, yes — but it’ll be okay. What you have is far bigger than anger. It’s love.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” You whisper. “I would never.”
A deep sigh leaves Cassian, and he’s leaning forward. “I know that. I’m sorry for how I spoke to you.”
He shouldn’t be. You deserve it. Deserve worse.
“I still don’t think Azriel was justified.” He then says. “He’s being fucking irrational—”
“Yeah, well, he just needs to calm down.” Roza cuts him off. “You all do.”
“And stop sleeping with each other.” Rhys adds. “Definitely don’t do that again.”
Cassian’s response is a mumble, “No danger of that.”
You can only manage to shake your head in response. You’re so very, very tired.
Roza seems to read that on your face. “I think we should all head to bed. Y/N, Rhys, you both go on up while I see to Cassian’s injuries.”
You don’t need telling twice. As Rhysand pulls you up, he damn near supports your whole body weight. It’s like you’re boneless, slumping against him. Exhaustion suddenly smothers you and threatens to drag you down to the floor.
But as Rhys drags you past the couch, a hand catches yours. Encloses around it.
Cassian stares up at you. Looks beaten down and tired and hurt. But he squeezes your hand and says softly, “Love you, sweetpea.”
You run the risk of breaking all over again just by opening your mouth, but you have to get the words out. You swallow down a lump and tamp down on a sob, and you just about manage to return, “Love you too, Cass.”
His answering smile is weak, but he kisses your hand and let’s go. And then Rhys is pulling you towards the stairs.
You don’t deserve a friend like Cassian — someone who can be utterly furious with you but will still break through that anger to tell you he loves you, because you need to hear it. He’s so golden. More valued than he will ever realise.
And Rhysand is, too, as he supports you on every step of the staircase. His arms are firm around you, strong. He’s not letting you fall, even as he stops outside of the bedroom that you always share with Az.
“Will you stay with me, Rhys?” You find your hands bunching the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him with shameful desperation. “Please? I don’t want to be alone.”
He studies you, and then he’s nodding resolutely. “Of course, I will.”
The smile you manage to give him is watery and unconvincing, but you force it, anyway. You turn, opening the door — until Rhys stops you. Your tired eyes glance over your shoulder in question.
And the mischief that’s on his face is so normal, so Rhys, that it actually makes you feel better. That look he gets when he’s about to say or do something that’ll earn him a slap up the side of his head. One half of his mouth tilts up, and his eyes are glimmering.
“Out with it.” You say blandly.
“Just don’t make a move on me, okay?” He grins. “Let’s not go for three out of three.”
You scowl, stalk into the bedroom, but in all honesty, you appreciate the humour. It’s far better than the hurt.
And Rhys knows that — which is precisely why he made the effort to crack a joke at all.
When you’re tucked up in bed beside him, his scent and body heat lulling you to sleep, you find his hand beneath the covers and give it a gentle squeeze.
And like always, he squeezes back.
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There’s a new crack in the ceiling.
There were six the last time Azriel counted. A seventh one now cuts a jagged line that zigzags directly over his bed.
This bed, in this room, in these dormitories.
This bed, that Y/N sucked his cock in. That he kissed Kaeda on. With the lumpy mattress and scratchy blankets.
Azriel fucking hates this bed.
He hasn’t slept a wink all night.
He knows that morning must have arrived, because people are walking the halls and readying themselves for training and talking too loudly. Az would usually have been up before all of them, already out there training in the harsh cold. But this morning, he doesn’t move an inch. It has nothing to do with the good few punches that Cassian managed to get in during their fight. If anything, Az relishes the discomfort.
Y/N and Cassian fucked. It’s all he can think about. Plays on a constant loop in his head. The truth is an oily one.
And with that truth comes further truths. Realisations.
The first — that after a night of lying awake and turning it over in his mind, he’s not sure he even has a right to be mad.
Y/N owes him nothing. Cassian owes him nothing. Their choice to lose themselves in each other’s bodies should make no difference to Azriel whatsoever. No promises have been made — aside of Y/N’s agreement to help him build his confidence. And that was a favour. Nothing more.
But those two words — nothing more — keep bringing Azriel to his second realisation. One he’s so fucking stupid for not realising until now, when it’s too late.
It was more — to him. Right from that very first kiss in the mead hall, when heat had surged his veins and he’d been left wanting more, more, more. It was that want, that carnal desire, that had had him coming straight back for further experiences with her. It was easy to say it was all about practice. Easy to pretend it wasn’t the terrifying thing it was. Easy to deny the truth.
Right from that very first kiss, he wanted Y/N.
Wanted to keep kissing her. To touch her. To have her touch him. He didn’t want to experience those things with anybody else, and he didn’t want her to want anybody else, selfish as that may be. That need had overtaken him after one fucking kiss, and he should have realised it there and then.
It was why he’d reacted to Jonan’s flirting the way he had. Why he’d lost his shit in Fenlaros, when Thedis had been ready to drag Y/N off to a shaded alcove and fuck her senseless.
It was why, no matter how damn hard he tried, he couldn’t generate that same desire with Kaeda. Kaeda was not Y/N.
And Y/N was everywhere he looked. In everything he felt. Her heart and her beauty and her laughter and her damn good soul. Her strength. Gods, that unwavering strength.
And that was why he’d reacted so damn irrationally — because he wanted Y/N, and it was his own fucking fault that she’d fallen into the arms of someone else.
He sits up in bed, dragging a hand through his hair. He doesn’t want to go to training today, doesn’t want to face anyone—
But a knock lands on the door, and he tamps down on the urge to tell whoever it is to fuck right off.
“Azriel?” Kaeda’s voice comes from the other side. “I know you’re in there.”
He heaves a deep, long sigh.
He really, really does not want to face Kaeda right now, of all people.
But she knocks again, and he finds himself kicking his sheets away in pure frustration and stalking towards the door. He almost yanks it off the hinges.
Kaeda takes in the sight of him, a pinched expression on her face. “You look like shit.”
Azriel really doesn’t have the patience for this right now. His voice is cold, flat, as he bites out, “Why are you in Windhaven.”
“I came looking for you to see if you’d given any thought to my offer, and I found out you’ve been brawling with Cassian.” She reaches out, brushing her fingers over his bruised cheek. “What happened?”
“It was nothing.”
“Clearly.” Sarcasm laces her tone. She rubs her arms. “Can I come in? It’s cold.”
The last thing he wants is anyone in his space. And he should stand his ground, tell her that. But he silently steps aside.
Kaeda breezes in, tucking her wings in tight. She turns to face Az and folds her arms over her chest. “Well?”
Azriel kicks the door shut. “Well, what?”
“What of my offer?”
Her offer is the furthest thing from his thoughts. How can he think about a life in Fenlaros when his life in Windhaven is such a colossal fuck up? Not to mention he would never make such decisions without consulting his friends — his family — first—
But things with his friends aren’t in such a good place right now.
“You dumped all of that on me not even twenty-four hours ago.” He points out. “I can’t just come up with an answer for you.”
“What we’re trying to do is important, Azriel—”
“I have other things going on right now. Alright?” He snaps. “Your father’s vision is not my priority.”
Kaeda stills, balling her fists. “What things? Something to do with why you were fighting with Cassian, I presume.”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Kaeda.” He pivots, turns his back to her. “I just…need some space.”
There’s a beat of silence, and Az thinks that perhaps she’ll actually listen and leave.
But then he feels movement behind him, and Kaeda’s front is pressing to his back. Her arms wrap around him. He tenses.
“I’m sorry for pushing you.” She presses a kiss to his shoulder. “I just want what’s best for you.”
Az’s eyes shutter. Her touch feels wrong. All wrong.”
“Azriel.” She whispers, and those hands travel lower, towards the waistband of the low-slung cotton trousers that hang from his hips. “I can make you feel better.”
The second those fingers begin to slide beneath the waistband, he’s launching himself out of her arms. Stumbling back against the wall.
“No.” He breathes. “I—can’t.”
Kaeda stares at him. Purses her lips. “Why?”
Because you are not Y/N. You’re not her. You’re not, and never have been, who I want.
“I just…need to be alone.” Is all he manages to get out. “You…you need to go.”
The expression on Kaeda’s face tells him just how rarely anyone asks her to leave. He feels rude, and brusque, and unkind.
He can’t bring himself to care.
“…Fine.” The tone of her voice suggests that it absolutely isn’t fine. She squares her shoulders, lifts her chin. “I’ll go.”
Az inclines his head. “Thank you.”
She strides towards the door, coldness rippling off her. And when she wraps her hand around the doorknob, she turns.
“When you’re ready to stop being such a fucking coward,” she levels him a look, “you know where you can find me.”
Azriel doesn’t bother replying.
He climbs back into bed. And he relishes in the sound of the door clicking shut.
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“You’re sure you want to do this today?”
Outside the chipped wooden door of your father’s house a day later, you’re frozen on the spot. Your breath clouds in front of your face, and you wish you’d accepted the coat that Rhys had offered you before leaving.
It’s tempting to turn around and go back to the cottage. Warm yourself by the fire. Hopefully fall asleep and avoid the pain in your heart, at least for a little while.
But you know that now is the right time to do this. Your father will be hard at work in his forge, and you’re free to gather your belongings and turn your back on that hollow home for good. At least it’ll keep you occupied for a while.
So you turn to Roza, and you nod. “I’m sure.”
“I still don’t think you should be doing this alone.” She eyes you cautiously. “Why don’t I send Rhys to help?”
“I’m fine, Roz, honestly. I think…I think I’ll appreciate the space.”
The space to cry and cry without anyone smothering you. You appreciate the love and support over the last twenty-four hours, you do — but being under the same roof as Cass…not knowing what Azriel might be doing, thinking, feeling…it’s all a bit too much.
So, yes, you’ll appreciate the breathing space.
Roza seems to finally recognise that. She nods. “Alright. I’ll come back for you in an hour.”
You lean in and press a kiss to her cheek, and then you’re turning and ripping the bandaid off before you can talk yourself out of it.
The house is as dark and dingy as it always has been. It smells musty. It feels soulless.
You step in and shut the door behind you, and you’re suddenly faced with every bad memory that has ever played out there. The shadow of your child self skitters around on bare, dirty feet, scrambling to get the fire lit, the dinner cooked.
The walls are painted with the hateful, malicious words that your father has spat over the years. Some of them have been punched in his many fits of anger.
This place will always be suffocating and evil. It will always shrink you back down to that tiny, terrified child who just wanted love.
You wrap your arms around yourself and drag your feet through to your bedroom. It’s just as it was before you left. Never feeling personal nor lived in. Certainly never feeling safe.
But you try to block all of that out and focus on what you came here for. The silence is welcomed, despite every little creak and bang putting you on edge, filling you with dread that your father might have returned home early. If you had to face a confrontation with him right now, you wouldn’t have the strength to defend yourself. You’d roll over at the first blow of vitriol.
And so, when you hear the sure sound of the door rattling open, your heart plummets. You freeze, hands bunching the tunic you were folding. Clear, confident footsteps approach.
Azriel appears in the doorway, and you don’t know what to do.
Perhaps facing your father would be easier right now.
He stares at you, his expression guarded. Where he would usually allow you to read his emotions, he wears a cool, flat exterior that even your keen awareness of him cannot get past. It’s deliberate — an act of self-preservation.
It makes you want to cry, just realising that he feels the need to do that around you. He never has before.
“What are you doing here?” You rasp, clearing a lump from your throat. “I thought…I mean…I would have come to find you, but I thought you needed space.”
Az nods. “I do.” He says. “I’m not…not ready to talk about anything yet.”
“Then why—”
“I made you a promise a long time ago.” He steps closer, stares at you in a way that is…quiet. You notice the dark smudges that sit beneath his eyes as he continues, “I made you a promise that I would be there for you, no matter what. And I didn’t keep that promise on Solstice, but I’m keeping it now. Even if I’m not ready to confront things yet…I won’t let you face this alone.”
After twenty-four hours of tears, you were certain you’re all cried out.
But tears fill your eyes again, and you feel like the broken pieces of your heart are breaking even more.
Azriel knows, better than anybody, how difficult it is for you to come back to this house. To face so many of the demons that you fought against with him by your side. He knows that you may have told Roza that you were fine, that you could do it alone, but you’re not, and you can’t.
You never wanted to do this alone. You just didn’t want to do it with anyone but Azriel.
And despite being hurt, and angry, and confused…he’s here.
“How did you…” You clear your throat again. “How did you know?”
“Was flying above. Saw you with Roza.” He strides further into the room and goes straight to one of the drawers in your dresser. “Are you taking everything?”
You’re still a little stunned, but you manage a nod. Your everything is, in fact, not much at all.
Az begins to fold your clothes and sort them into piles. He’s completely silent. Doesn’t even look at you. But a shadow reaches out and tickles your arm.
There’s so much you want to say to him. You also just want to throw your arms around him. Apologise, and apologise, and apologise.
But you’ll always respect his boundaries. He isn’t ready. So you return to the task and work just as silently as he is.
It’s a little while later, when he’s moved on to your small gathering of keepsakes, that he speaks again.
“Do you want to take this?” He turns to you.
In his hand is the little wooden owl carving he made for your thirteenth birthday. The damned thing has seen you shed so many tears, stayed clutched in your palm through so many nightmares. Never will you ever part with it.
“Always.” You answer quietly. “I’ll always take it wherever I go.”
His gaze lingers on you for a moment, and then he nods. Tucks the trinket into the pocket of your satchel. You watch the entire thing with a gaping wound in your heart.
“Az?” You murmur, and he glances at you over your shoulder. “…Thank you…”
His eyes catch yours again, and then he’s dipping his chin. “I made you a promise.” He says again.
You don’t speak another word to each other after that.
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As soon as you’re finished, Azriel is taking to the skies once more. He doesn’t bid you goodbye.
Roza appears almost immediately, and she takes in your scant belongings with a pitying look.
“Come, little dove.” She reaches for your bag. “Let’s get out of the cold.”
“Let me carry that, Roz.” You say. “You’re pregnant. And the cottage isn’t far—”
But your words cut off when, with a wave of her hand, she’s spiriting all of your belongings away, into thin air. You cock an eyebrow.
“We’re not going back to the cottage.” She says. “I’m taking you to Velaris.”
az tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes
#azriel#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x reader#shadowsinger#shadowsinger x reader#azriel acotar#azriel x you#azriel fic#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acotar fandom#acotar x reader#acotar writing#acotar fanfic#acotar headcanon#acotar smut#acotar series#acotar fic#azriel fanfiction#azriel fanfic#reader insert#illyrians#rhysand#cassian#practice on me
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Where The Shadows Dance
Bodyguard!Azriel x AutumnDaughter!Reader
SUMMARY: When Beron invites the Night Court to his Autumn home in an attempt to strengthen bonds between the two courts, Azriel and his companions are suspicious of potential ulterior motives. They are, ultimately, correct to think this, as Beron does have a reason for his invitation.
Y/n Vanserra, the Autumn Court's untamed princess, needs a bodyguard, and who better than one of the Night Court warriors who helped command the armies against Hybern?
Y/n's untamed spirit clashes with Azriel's reserved nature, leading to unwilling adventures and forbidden explorations of the Autumn Court's hidden corners. And Azriel slowly stops finding himself able to say no - not when she flirts with him to get her way, or teases him for being a 'broody old male.'
And though he knows he shouldn't, he finds himself falling for her. It will jeopardise everything, and yet he can't help it...
But it's okay, because she's falling for him too.
GENERAL WARNINGS: swearing, violence, descriptions of injuries and blood, smut (18+ mdni), um... yeah
Chapter i - The Proposition
Chapter ii - The Bodyguard
Chapter iii - The Princess
Chapter iv - coming soon
Chapter v - coming soon
#azriel#writing#fanfiction#x reader#acotar azriel#azriel imagine#azriel acotar#azriel x reader#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x y/n#acotar fanfiction#acotar#acotar x reader#azriel acotar x reader#azriel shadowsinger x reader#shadowsinger x reader#azriel spymaster#acotar fandom#shadowsinger#where the shadows dance#wtsd
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Closure
Azriel x Reader
a/n: requests are open!! Comment if you wanna be tagged for part 2. Quickly proofread, sorry for errors!!
PART TWO
warnings: angst, very slight smut (18+ please)
The House of Wind was quiet at this hour, save for the thunder cracking outside, coupled with heavy rain pelting the windows.
You stood at the marbled kitchen counter, filling your glass of wine for a third time. You grimaced slightly as the wine coated your tongue, dry and bitter. Not your favorite, but it’ll get the job done—getting drunk, that is.
Just as you sat your glass down, footsteps sounded behind you. Not heavy like Cassian’s. Not light like Mor’s. No, these footsteps were almost inaudible. But you would recognize the sound from anywhere. The same way you recognized the cool air of his shadows before they came into view, before they slithered along your arms, toyed with your hair.
Azriel.
His strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in. Leaning into his touch was instinctual; a reflex.
You cursed yourself for it. Hated yourself for it.
“You didn’t come to my room tonight,” the Shadowsinger spoke against your skin, his voice warming you, wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.
You didn’t answer at first. Any response you had previously thought out caught in your throat, and you swallowed the words down before you could embarrass yourself with them.
What were you to tell him?
In the last few months, you’d agreed to share his bed. You’d go to one another when you needed release, and leave when all was said and done. Nothing further. No strings attached. Your centuries of friendship would remain intact.
So, when he’d begun showing interest in Elain, you kept your mouth shut. His moments with her didn’t go beyond polite, friendly conversation, but you could see the way his eyes lit up each time he spoke to her. He liked her very much. Loved her, perhaps.
You were foolish to believe it would be anything more than sex. Your feelings for Azriel were only magnified each time you went to him. Like some lovesick puppy, desperate for any affection that he would give you.
No strings attached, you’d remind yourself after each encounter. Azriel’s first rule.
The only other rule? Be completely honest with one another. If either of you wanted to stop? Say it. If either of you wanted to see someone else? Say it.
You’d broken both rules.
Azriel pressed a kiss to the side of your neck, jolting you from your thoughts. “I can feel the gears turning in your head. Talk to me.”
You swallowed thickly. Once. Twice. “I was too tired tonight.”
“That’s never stopped you before,” Azriel replied, turning you to face him. He gently grabbed your chin, tilting your head back until your eyes met his. “I know you. I know when something is bothering you. Talk to me.”
Despite how much you wanted to, you couldn’t break his stare. Did he even know? The things you would do for him? The love you bore for him?
No. He didn’t know. That would be cruel—to string you along and use you for your body, knowing you wanted more than that.
Finally, you loosed a breath, repeating your previous lie, as easily as breathing. “I was tired, Az.”
Azriel silently studied you for a moment, as though he was dissecting you, trying to pick out the pieces within that might hold the truth. The hand he had on your chin moved to the side of your neck, his thumb tracing the column of your throat. You knew he felt your breath hitch.
You prayed to the Mother that he would stop touching you like that. It wasn’t fair—this hold he had over you. How easily he could make you weak. Make you vulnerable.
His grip on your neck tightened ever-so slightly, and you couldn’t halt the breathy whimper that fell from your lips. “Azriel…”
“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, leaning down to brush his lips against yours.
The sheer need in his voice made your spine tingle. “Azriel,” his name was almost a whisper; a plea. You arched into him as his free hand found your breasts, tracing around your nipples with his thumb until they formed into stiff peaks.
Azriel’s lips trailed down your neck, your chest. He lowered himself, kissing down your stomach over the thin nightgown you wore as he sunk to his knees before you. He peppered kisses along your exposed thighs, a low growl creeping up his throat as you instinctively parted your legs for him. You were almost too far gone to speak—to think, even. But the moment his hands touched the hem of your nightgown, you tensed.
Azriel noticed immediately, and rose to his feet, worry painting his face. “Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?”
Your heart warmed at the concern he displayed for you, but you shut the feeling out as quickly as it came. It was all too confusing—the way he acted with you, only to turn around and go to Elain.
But you and Azriel agreed months ago: just sex, without any attachment.
“I think we should stop. All of this,” you admitted, unable to meet his eyes.
Azriel blinked. “Oh. Was it…” he cleared his throat, taking a step back. “Was it something I did?”
Yes. No. Both. You sighed. “No. I just—I don’t want to do this anymore.”
A half-lie.
Azriel nodded, his expression now unreadable. “Alright.”
Now it was your turn to show surprise. “Is that—that’s it?” The question came out a bit sharper than intended.
“You don’t owe me an explanation. If you want to stop, we stop. No strings attached.”
“Right. No strings attached.” You forced a smile, and Azriel returned it, though it seemed just as fake as yours.
A sudden awkwardness filled the air—something you’d never felt in Azriel’s presence. To your relief, Azriel spoke again.
“I guess I should—I’ll see you in the morning.” Azriel turned away, but stopped just before exiting the kitchen. “You’re still my friend, y/n. Always.”
Friend. Friend. Friend. Just friends.
You couldn’t bring yourself to smile, this time. “Always, Az.”
As he walked down the hall, you wondered if the Cauldron was playing a cruel joke on you.
Perhaps the mating bond could be one-sided.
#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acotar headcanon#acotar fanfiction#acomaf#acotar angst#Azriel angst#Azriel x reader#Azriel acotar#Azriel#Shadowsinger#female reader#azriel smut#smut#acotar smut
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Marriage-Life (One-shot)
A/n: Thank you all for all the love on the Between Worlds series! I promise an update next week. This is just something I thought about while on my walk with my dog :) SUPER FLUFFY!
**Also, it is unedited so fair warning, like a rough draft!**
Word Count: 1.8K
Summary: Collections of domestic life with Azriel, married/mated for fifty years.
Warnings: Fluff & crack at times, drinking, some intimate moments. Pet names (Sweetness, My Love, Baby)
Azriel the spymaster was your mate, the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Balancing life with a spymaster was no easy feat. Azriel’s frequent absence on risky missions tested the boundaries of your marriage at times. Yet, amidst the challenges, you found solace in the ways he made up for his prolonged departures.
Like sleepless nights in bed after a long mission…
As you settled in settled into bed, with Azriel lying on your chest, his breathing growing heavy as his eyes were closing. A question tugged at your lips. “Would you…’ you began, hesitating for a moment. ‘Yes, I would love you if you were a worm,’ Azriel hummed, his warm breath grazing your skin.
“Love me if I was a snail” You finished, feeling Azriel’s smirk form against your chest. He gave a soft nip on your breast. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he opened his eyes to look up at you. The hazel eyes looked up at you with amusement you could see his smirk turn smug.
“Oh sweetness, that changes things” he drawled as he sat up a little, pushing himself up to see your face. You bit your lip trying not to giggle as he continued.
“I mean, are you a normal snail? Like could I tell you apart from all of the other little snails?” Azriel began, his deep voice filled with a teasing tone. His hand roaming your bonds, fingers caressing your curves.
You stifle a laugh as his fingers find ticklish spots, “I would be a cute snail, one that you could distinguish from the others”
“A very cute snail…but the fact remains. You would still be a snail” Azriel hummed as he ran his fingers across your curves again. His gaze goes down to your body and back to your lips and then your eyes with a playful grin. A grin that only you ever saw. “I would feel so guilty if I stepped on you by mistake. Can’t have that, can we?”
Giving him a playful pout, you look at him innocently. “Are you saying…that you wouldn’t love me if I was a snail?” you whisper to him in a soft gaze, as you notice his movements. Azriel grinned again, pushing himself onto his elbows against you as he moved closer to you. His wings continued to drape across the both of you.
“What I’m saying is I would always have to worry about stepping on you if you were a snail. Which would make being married to you quite the headache.” His hand once rested on the curve of your waist, moved its way to your collarbone then your jawline, and finally to your chin. Tilting your head as he brings himself closer to whisper on your lips. “How about you stay fae my love, maybe in another universe we could be snails together. But this one, I would love to be fae with you.” A gentle kiss was planted on your lips, which led to you both having a very sleepless night.
****
Azriel never really had much of a sweet tooth, in fact, he typically stayed away from sweets until he met you. When you both got married, you would try out a new cafe once a month, sometimes going to the same one if their seasonal menu changed.
“Let’s get ice cream today, it’s starting to get so warm out.” You whined as you slipped on a sundress. Azriel in the middle of brushing his teeth as he shrugged and gave the confirming nod.
One of the best things about Azriel was that he always tried to match your outfits. If you wore a blue ribbon in your hair, he would wear a blue button-up shirt. If you wore a floral sundress, he would find a shirt that matched one of the colors. Today wearing a blue floral sundress, he opted for a light blue button-down and khaki slacks. One of which, he never owned any colorful clothing or anything other than his leathers and a few formal outfits until you two met.
Once you were both ready, Azriel took you on a flight down to the Palace of Hoof and Leaf. A district is known for its food. Once landed, you both walked hand in hand. Shadows trailing the both of you as you walked. Azriel’s huge hand compared to yours as he guided you to a cafe.
“Feyre mentioned this place the other day” he began as he guided you through the busy streets. His wings were tightly tucked in. “I guess they make the ice cream look cute, like little bears and pigs” he gave you a warm smile as you trailed next to him, giving him a confirming squeeze with your hand.
The streets were packed today, the market was selling spices, the smell of delicious food filled the air, and merchants trying to gather attention as people walked past. It wasn't until after a few blocks away, that you noticed a cute pastel pink building that had “Ice Cream” written in a beautiful cursive font on the window. You moved your hand from his, moving it towards his bicep as you both walked to the front doors. When you grasped his muscle, he flexed. The pastel-pink building exuded a quaint charm, its exterior adorned with delicate floral motifs that seemed to dance in the sunlight. Inside, the decor was equally inviting, with plush cushions and paintings on flowers on the walls. Along with cute stuffed animals on shelves around the parlor. A beautiful fae girl led you both to a table and placed a menu in front of you both. Azreil looked at you. “Order anything you want. I will just share with you”
The menu was filled with a tempting array of ice cream parfaits, each more enticing than the last. Ranging from little animal-themed ones to flower ones You ended up ordering the panda, and right when you ordered you noticed there was a drink menu that showed an adorable foam cat latte. You order it as well obviously. Azriel smirks as he looks at you with a smile. People in the ice cream parlor glanced over. A smile from the threatening looks of the spymaster was quite rare.
You both talked about what other errands you both needed to run, a market trip was due. Luckily Azriel won’t have a mission for a while but will be training with the Valkyrie and having to go to Hewn City soon. As you both talked, you very impatiently waited for the dessert, Azriel held your hand across the table. He was rubbing his finger across the top of your hand.
“I appreciate you” He whispered so softly that you almost didn’t catch it. You give him a warm smile “I appreciate you too and everything you do.”
After what seemed like forever!
The ice cream and latte finally arrived, you looked at the ice cream with a pout and looked at him.
“I don’t think I can eat it, it’s too cute” you pout as you look down at the panda ice cream staring up at you. Azriel had already taken the latte and was about to sip it. As he raised a brow.
“Shall I eat it for you” he teased, flashing a playful grin as he took a sip of the cute cat latte. Something about this intimidating creature sipping a cute cat latte caused your heart to flutter. A blush made its way across your face, even after fifty years of marriage, he still makes you have butterflies in your tummy. You reluctantly used your tiny spoon that was given to you, to poke the face of the little panda ice cream ball on top. Tasting the ice cream, it was a cookies and cream flavor. So cute and so delicious. Azriel teased you by claiming you’re murdering him. You would flash him a playful glare which would cause him to laugh. It was moments like these, that you enjoyed being married to him.
***
Drunken nights, meant drunken mates.
Azriel arrived at Rita’s to find his mate giggling drunk next to Feyre who was being led away by Rhysand. Azriel’s mate however was still sipping on her drink as he walked over.
“Sorry, I have a mate,” you slurred, raising a hand to Azriel’s face as he approached.
“Oh, do you? Is he handsome?” He teased in a low voice, taking a seat next to you. His wing brushing against your shoulder.
“The most handsome man in the whole world, let me tell you if he caught you right now, you would be catching his hands” You drawled with a drunken grin as you sipped the rest of your cocktail.
Azriel covered his mouth covering a laugh, “Is that so? So he’s like super powerful.” He teased, his tone holding amusement. One of his shadows trailing around your arm.
You notice it and giggle, “Yeah, my mate has these little shadow things too” You point at the shadow and show it to him. He laughs a bit harder and leans closer to you. You almost immediately recognize him.
“Hello! My mate!” You giggle as you lean your head on his shoulder. His arm slipped around your waist. “When did you get here, there was such a strange man here” you giggle as he holds you close, placing his chin on top of your head.
“Just now, how about we head home? Hm?” He hums as he plays with a strand of your hair, leaning back a little to slide a hand under your chin to tilt your face to his to see your drunken smile with a red flush on your cheeks.
“Can we walk a little?” You smile up at him as you slur a little.
“Can you even walk?” He teases in a low tone, “If you can then sure”
He pays the tab and walks with you out. A hand firmly on your waist to stop you from stumbling when you both walk the streets of Velaris. If anyone even looks at you stumble they’re met with the glare of the spymaster. You notice a pigeon leaving his arms and make your toward it.
Tears stream down your face.
Oh fuc- Azriel almost thought you were about to throw up but here you are giving the pigeons coins while crying.
“Baby please, he’s homeless” You give Azriel a longing look as big alligator tears stream down your face.
“The pigeon?” Azreil covers his mouth from laughing, there’s no way his mate is crying about a bird on the street. This is one of her more normal moments.
“Yes, and he’s so poor. I mean he had no pockets!” you slurred as your voice cracked feeling so bad for the poor pigeon.
“I’m sure he’s fine love, please leave the pigeon alone,” he says quietly as he pulls you up. Perhaps, winnowing home would be for the best.
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I am here to share a piece of my heart with my Gwynriel family ..... This art commission I got from artist @alexandraczerw_art has a really special place in my heart .... This fanart basically captures the spirit of Gwynriel 😍
Repost Not Allowed
Characters belong to @Sarah J Maas
#gwynriel#gwyneth berdara#pro gwynriel#gwyn acosf#acotar#gwyn x azriel#azriel shadowsinger#azriel#post acosf#acosf theory#acosf fanart#acotar fanart#acowar#acosf#acomaf#acofas#gwynriel supremacy#acotar shadowsinger#shadowsinger
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Better than cupcakes
Azriel x reader
Summary: Azriel is your mate and you don't know it. Your also a baker which makes things more complicated. Not to mention Eris liking you as well. Will you realise Azriel likes you just as much as you do him?
I also really want cupcakes rn. Ignore any mistakes or feel free to tell me. ily all. MWUAH💕 i just want azriel. why can't he be real
I piped another cupcake, the dark purple icing coming out perfectly. I put it to the side and before I could start on another one Cassian walked in a big smile on his face. I didn't hear the bell because of how concentrated I was on trying to get these almost perfect, otherwise I would have locked the door before he could have come in.
"It smells delicious in here. Any failed testers you want me to finish?"
He came up to the counter and sat down on a stool eyeing up my creations "I was wondering when the garbage disposal would arrive" I muttered before pointing to a tray to the side where a few uneven and ugly looking cupcakes sat. He merely grinned back and reached for one, taking a bite.
"Just as good as I expected" He said rolling his eyes dramatically. I smiled and nodded my head "I know...but you say that to everything. I need someone proper to test them"
Cassian frowned, tucking in his wings and reached for another cupcake to demolish "You should take my opinions seriously you know. I'm actually a professional chef at home"
I raised an eyebrow "Making tea for Nesta once in a while doesn't count" His smile dropped and he went into some sort of deep thinking.
"Azriel's waiting outside. Should I get him to try some?"
I nodded "Why's he waiting outside? Tell him to come in" Cassian nodded his head, taking another cupcake on his way out. I iced a few more before he came grumbling back.
"He won't come in. Says he needs to leave and doesn't have time for cupcakes"
I frowned "He'll have time for cupcakes if i tell him to! Where is he?" I put down the icing bag and grabbed a cupcake. Cassian pointed to the door "Just outside the door"
Before I left I narrowed my eyes "Don't think I haven't counted how many there are"
He gave me a mischievous grin before I walked out the café and found Azriel securing his daggers in place. A sign he was about to set off into the sky.
"Azriel!" I shouted, quickly walking and slightly skipping over to him. He turned around his hand covering his eyes so he could block the sun, shading his eyes.
"Yes?"
I lifted up my cupcake and smiled "I made cupcakes and I need someone to try them"
He raised an eyebrow "Wasn't Cassian in there just a few moments ago?"
I sighed "Yes but he's Cassian. He eats anything. I need someone who'll give me proper feedback"
Azriel thought about it, his eyes raking over my hopeful expression. "Fine" He muttered, taking the cupcake. He nodded toward something behind me "What's that?" I turned around and found nothing of interest.
"What's what?" I asked turning back round. He shook his head "Nothing" He muttered, chewing slowly before swallowing.
"How was it? Too sweet? I think you had too much icing in that bite, maybe try some more?" I asked, waiting for him to say something. Anything.
"It's....interesting" He finally said. My smile dropped "Really? Was it that bad? What should I change? I knew it was too sweet. Or was it something else?"
Azriel shook his head slowly "It was one of the worst things I've had in a while"
My slight despair turned into shock.
My mouth dropped open "WHAT? Are you being serious right now? You don't even know the basics for cooking don't come to me with the bullshit of it being the worst thing you've ever had, honestly-"
His hand covered my mouth before I could carry on anymore. The warm press of his hand on my lips making me stop immediately. His lips were turned up into a small smile "You wanted the feedback y/n. Can't take it anymore?"
I crossed my arms and waited for him to let me speak. He didn't, merely moving closer to me and looking down at me with those warm hazel eyes. I opened my mouth and bit into his hand so he'd move away which surprisingly he did. I smiled with triumph until I remembered what he had previously said.
I narrowed my eyes "You aren't trying any more of my treats again"
"Whatever will I do?" He replied sarcastically, a small smirk on his gorgeous face. I clenched my teeth together, lost for words and wanting to wipe the smirk off his face.
"Go away" I finally mustered. I cringed internally, that was the worst thing I could have thought of. He looked at me instead of replying, his hazel eyes glowing amber in the sun light.
"Do you really think I was being serious?" He finally said, moving closer to me so there was only an inch's space between us. I crossed my arms waiting for another sarcastic comment or for him to joke but he didn't.
"Yes?" I replied, unsure of the answer myself.
He let out a sigh and shook his head "Really, y/n. Your cooking is just as gorgeous as you. The cupcake was delicious"
I wish I had a more sensible response but when was I ever known for my maturity?
"Really?" I was grinning and trying to ignore the part where had called me gorgeous otherwise I would be in deep shit.
He nodded his head, a small smile on his face too. Gods he was so pretty. And his lips...I shook my thoughts away and gave him a quick hug. He smelt like wind and smoke and deliciousness. And honestly? I wanted to keep hugging him forever. But that wasn't possible.
I stepped out his embrace "Thanks for the feedback Az. I should get going"
Azriel nodded his head "...you should" He looked at me with such an intense gaze that I just wanted to melt into the ground, not to mention the sun beating down on us making me even hotter. He finally turned away and winnowed into the darkness so I could no longer see him. If I hadn't been such a dumbass and blindly in love I would have known he hadn't tried the cupcake at all.
I placed the last tray on the table and looked at my creations.
"They look absolutely divine" Feyre said coming over to look at the cupcakes. I had iced them with dark purple icing and sprinkled small stars on top. I felt like they matched the star fall theme perfectly.
"Thank you. I probably would have more if Cassian didn't keep eating them" I said, looking over at him. He was holding out his hand and convincing Nesta to dance with him. I assumed she wanted to save her feet because we all knew when Cassian was even the slightest bit drunk he was a hazard to be next to.
"Y/n? I think someone wants your attention" Rhys said making his way over to me and Feyre. I raised an eyebrow, wondering what he was talking about. He dipped his chin, gesturing behind me and I saw Eris, a glass of wine in his hand and talking to Lucien.
"So he decided to show up?" I asked. He had been invited for the past few years or so after having built stronger ties with the night court and his younger brother but I had never seen him actually accept.
"He decided to show up so he could see you" Feyre replied, giving me a small wink. I let out a sigh. I hoped she was joking. I liked Eris. I really did. But as a friend. Someone I could laugh with and spend time with. I was hoping Feyre was wrong but whenever she played love match, she was always right.
I made my way over to Eris who raised his glass "Finally made your way over here?" He asked.
I shrugged "Your bright red hair is hard to find in a crowd like this" I teased. His smile grew slightly "Your looking radiant today. The dress suits you"
I accepted the compliment "Thank you. You don't look too bad yourself"
He rolled his eyes "I never look bad. That's not a word in my dictionary"
I let out a laugh at his dramatics. "We should plan to meet up sometime. We're friends after all" It pained me to add the last sentence but I had to. I wasn't going to let him think there was something between us when there wasn't. It wouldn't be fair. His warm amber eyes turned slightly cooler.
"We should. Your a good friend y/n" His smile was still there but it seemed slightly put on. A slight façade.
Before I could reply however a shadow brushed at my shoulder making me pause and shiver at it's sudden coldness. I turned around my eyes seeking out Az but I couldn't find him. Really these shadows had a mind of their own. Another one had joined at this point and they were gently circling my wrist and pulling me toward the house.
"I have to go but I'll be back. Don't have too much fun without me" I called to Eris. He shook his head and gave me a small smile "I would never".
I followed the shadows until we reached the balcony. Azriel was stood looking out into the gardens and at everyone partying the night away. His wings were tucked in and I didn't notice as the shadows left me to join him.
I cleared my throat to announce my presence but he didn't turn around.
"Why aren't you down there?" He asked. I moved toward him and stood near the railing.
"Your shadows brought me here. Plus I'm tired anyway" I replied. I wasn't that tired but I wasn't going to miss the chance to talk to Azriel. Not to mention the view was always best from here.
"They like to meddle" He muttered back. At this his shadows disappeared completely as if annoyed with him. I bit back a smile and continued looking at the night sky and everyone under it, sneaking glances toward Azriel.
"Did you try the lemonade?" I asked, breaking the silence between us. He nodded his head "It was nice. Helped stop the wine making it's way into my system too quickly"
I nodded "I was going to get some more...do you want a glass?". Azriel turned to me and tilted his head slightly, his arms resting on the balcony railing.
"If you wouldn't mind"
I made my back downstairs and grabbed two glasses of lemonade which were fizzing slightly, trying not to knock into Mor as she danced like....well like a lunatic.
"Here" I passed Azriel the glass and he thanked me. Instead of turning back to the view he looked at me instead. His stare made me slightly nervous which is why a small laugh escaped me "What?" He put the lemonade to the side.
"You look so goddamn beautiful tonight" His words were quiet but I still heard them. A warm blush made it's way onto my cheeks.
"Thank you" I replied looking anywhere but at him. He moved closer to me, his silent movements slowly backing me up against a wall with no escape. I held my breath as his thumb gently moved over my lips.
"I want to rip this dress of you. I want to do a lot of things. Do you know what they all have in common?" His eyes had darkened, as his hand moved to my throat, loosely holding me in place.
I shook my head slowly, all capability of speaking having left my mind after he had me against a wall, a hand gripped around my throat.
"All those things include you" He whispered. I felt a shiver run down my spine at his voice so close to me, his fingers moving over my pulse.
"So what's stopping you?" I finally asked, hoping for my sake this wasn't just a joke and he genuinely wanted me. His lips turned up into a small smile "Nothing"
He leaned in and captured my lips in a sweet kiss, making me melt into him completely. His hands moved to my waist as he pinned me against the wall, his chest against mine. Gods he tasted divine. Better than any cupcake.
We broke apart, my breathing heavy after being in heaven for the past minute. I looked at Azriel and when I did a small tug, a small piece of happiness filled me. As if the fae I were looking at now was the reason I felt complete. My eyes widened in realisation "Your my...mate" I whispered.
Azriel's eyes closed and he took a deep breath "I know, love" I stood frozen for a second. He did? How long did he know? I shook my thoughts away. Did it matter? I had found out now and I wanted him whether he was or wasn't.
I leaned in to kiss him once more to show him exactly how much I wanted him, his hand resting on my hips. I never wanted to leave his arms again.
note: Im sorry about Eris yall. I really do love him but his feelings had to be sacrificed 😭
tags: @willowpains @littlestw01f @thelov3lybookworm @riddlesb1tch @thehighladywrites @dont-f1ck-it-you-m1ppet @clairebear08 @artists-ally
#berryfics#azriel shadowsinger#azriel#azriel acotar#azriel x reader#acotar azriel#azriel x you#azriel fanfic#acotar#cassian#nesta#mor#rhys#feyre#azriel x y/n#azriel fluff#azriel shadowsinger x reader#shadowsinger x reader#shadowsinger#azriel spymaster x y/n#azriel spymaster#spymaster x reader#azriel supremacy#azriel x reader fluff#acotar fanfiction
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The cycle of life
Azriel x Reader
Fae cycles suck, thank the mother for your attentive mate who is there to provide you with all of the smut and fluff you desire.
warnings: smut, language, self-esteem and body image struggles, anxiety, slight breeding kink
She didn’t know when the self-loathing crept in - although it was always the first sign. The week had been busy, she’d poured herself into her work. Being a bookkeeper for such a wealthy court was… tiring to say the least. It was fulfilling work, especially when it came to the Court of Dreams. Balancing ledgers and creating budgets for various charitable endeavors was a duty she was proud to take part in. The High Lord and Lady’s efforts in keeping their court thriving was admirable. Most would find the work mundane, and she supposed it could be, but accounting always felt like a puzzle to her - using her brain to solve problems and contribute to the advancement of the Night Court was rewarding.
She wasn’t perfect though, despite that desperate desire within herself to be. She’d push, and push, and push herself completely overlooking all the good she did and absolutely berating herself internally when the occasional mistake occurred.
Azriel was her number one supporter. She’d always imagined him to be better suited for the likes of a fellow warrior such as Mor or a Valkyrie like Gwyn. Perhaps even someone soft and lovely like Elain, a glowing beacon to come home to. Y/N had told Azriel as much when he began pursuing her.
“Why me?” She’d wonder to herself as she assessed her figure in the mirror - overlooking the enticing feminine curves that all but screamed “squeeze me, grip me, take me”, the way her plush lips bowed into a perfectly kissable pout, how her radiant skin that nearly glowed rendered her ethereal. She only saw imperfections. Not to mention that she wasn’t graceful or stealthy, she couldn’t cook or keep plants alive to save her damned life, and she had a tendency to get stuck inside her mind.
Truthfully this week was more than busy, it was hard. She’d pushed herself to meet deadlines that she’d gotten behind on due to an influx in workload. She’d made a few mistakes that nobody had issue with - except herself. Nuala and Cerridwen were taking well-deserved time off, leaving the essential household tasks on the back burner. Between working endless hours, Azriel being gone on a mission, and a flare up of the anxiety that she’d put so much effort into working through over the years - she was exhausted.
Physically her muscles ached, stomach cramped, and her head pounded as the all-too-familiar symptoms of her impending semi-annual cycle took root. Her mind and spirit were utterly fatigued from the busy week, the flare up of anxiety, and the overall stress of life. She was desperate for Azriel to return from his mission soon.
It was around 9PM when she coerced herself into wrapping up work on Friday night, she spent three hours afterward tending to the house and catching up on neglected tasks from the week, too tired to even bathe as she crawled into bed - sleep claiming her immediately.
She awoke the next day to a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Hello beautiful.” Azriel whispered against her skin, pulling back to allow those intense hazel eyes a chance to examine her. Her eyelids fluttered and brows furrowed as she let out an exhausted groan, “baby…” a small smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she reached toward him in a needy manner that made his heart ache. He hated leaving her for missions though she always understood and supported him. He leaned down, wrapping his arms around her body, letting his warmth seep into her bones as she melted into his embrace.
Azriel noticed the flinch she made as the sun shone through the window into their room, quickly flaring his wings to block it from view until her eyes adjusted. “What’s wrong, love?” He whispered, though he already had an idea. The heat of his breath against her ear sent chills through her, prompting her to give a quick nip to his neck before kissing it.
Gods, she’d missed him.
“Nothing baby.” before he could call her on her lie she continued, “what time is it?”
“Well, you missed breakfast.” He smirked.
“Ugh… how did I sleep in so late?” She sat up, rubbing her tired eyes.
Azriel shrugged “Your body must have needed it.”
“Says you.” She scoffed. “You were off all week doing physically demanding work and busting your ass for this court… while I sat on mine balancing ledgers.”
“Y/N…” he spoke, his low voice barely more than a warning growl. “We’re not going to do that. You are allowed to feel tired, allowed to let your body rest. Your work is important.”
She sighed, knowing better than to press on. She knew to pick her battles and that this one was not one she would win.
“Fine.” Y/N shrugged, eyeing a paper bag on the bedside table. “What did you bring me? Please tell me it’s something with chocolate.”
Azriel’s lips curled up into a grin that she’d never tire of seeing, handing over the bag. “See for yourself, darling.”
———
Azriel knew from the moment he stepped into the quiet house that she’d need extra love and attention today. His loving, caring, selfless mate who typically rose early - he swore the sun rose on her accord and not the other way around - was still sound asleep in bed.
He immediately exited the house before she could sense his presence and stopped by her favorite bakery along the Sidra. Chocolate croissants were a necessity in times like these. She’d need a pain relieving tonic, epsom salts and soothing oils, and a bouquet of flowers couldn’t hurt either.
He went ahead and picked up ingredients for a few quick meals and a new book she’d mentioned recently as well.
He had to laugh at the irony. His mate often questioned her worthiness of him. HIM. She couldn’t see what he saw. A passionate, intelligent female who cared for her mate, her court, and family more than anything. Always putting her own needs last but the first to volunteer when help was needed. The cauldron truly found his equal - someone who gave and gave but it was never enough. Someone who couldn’t see her own worth, her pure heart, her devastating beauty - while the rest of the world marveled at it.
She’d been the catalyst in his own self-acceptance. He’d spent centuries believing he wasn’t enough, that he was unworthy of a mate, of his position, of the power he was born with - just to meet this intelligent, radiant being who could bring an entire room to a halt and assume they were only seeing flaws. Not the beauty that could make even kings fall to their knees if she’d only ask. When the bond snapped, he decided then and there that he would show her just how worthy she was. In the decade they’d been mated, she finally started to see her worth, how precious she was to him, to those she graced with her presence. But life is complicated and triggers are inevitable, especially when it came to the flare of hormones that accompanied an impending cycle.
—————
The chocolate croissants were a win if the drawn-out contented sigh Y/N let out upon finishing her third one was any indication. He’d shared details of his mission as she indulged in the pastries and she gave him a few details of her week - frowning as she went into detail about the “mistakes” she’d made.
They were common mistakes that anyone would make, truthfully, some weren’t even her fault, but he listened as she let it out. He’d learned over the years that sometimes she just needed to get it off her chest and not advice. Simply hearing each other out had become a key element in the foundation of their relationship - when thoughts became too much - they were always listening ears for each other.
Once she’d gotten it off her chest she changed the subject by asking, “What do you want to do today?”
Azriel had a lot to do - but his mate took priority this weekend. He gave her a wicked grin, “I want nothing more than to waste away in this bed with you all day.”
“But?” She replied.
“But nothing.” He flicked her nose. “I want to spend the day in bed with my mate - is there something wrong with that?”
Azriel could see the war in her mind. Debating whether she deserved to take a day off, or should tend to other tasks. Before she could object he leaned in, lips capturing hers in a deep, loving kiss. She immediately opened for him, his tongue lazily tangling with hers. “Fine” she murmured.
“That’s my girl.” He cooed before returning to claiming her mouth, the shell of her ears, her neck.
“Mmm” she purred into his kiss while he palmed at her breast through her silken cobalt night gown. Her swollen breasts immediately peaking beneath his touch.
“So responsive” his low voice growled into her neck, sending fire straight through her, igniting her core. “Is that beautiful pussy as ready for me as these are?” He asked, tweaking a nipple through her gown.
The responding moan told him more than enough as he hitched the hem of her nightgown up to her waist, exposing the dripping cunt practically begging for him underneath. His eyes rolled back at the intoxicating scent of arousal drifting up into his nose. “Holy shit, Y/N.” he groaned, clearly pleased with the sight.
He ran a finger through her slick core, adding a teasingly light amount of pressure to her clit but before he could insert a finger she moaned “No Az, I can’t wait. Please.”
“You don’t want my fingers?” He teased, slipping one inside of her. Mother, she was absolutely soaked.
“Az…Fuck. No. Please.” She pleaded. Reaching down to palm the hardened length beneath his sweatpants. “I need that inside of me. Now”
Typically he would reprimand her for being so demanding, robbing him of his playtime with her sweet, dripping sex. But the desperation in her voice left him desperate to oblige her.
“Since you asked nicely.” He replied, to which she frantically helped him out of his pants.
Before she could reconsider taking more fingers, he thrusted his length into her. Hard. Every thick, aching inch of him, stretching and filling her completely.
“Like that?” He asked as her moans filled the room.
“Yes. Yes, Az.”
“Fuck.” She cried out. “Just. Like. That.” Each word coming out individually timed to the thrusts of his cock.
There was no way he was going to last long at this pace, especially after being away for a week. “Not gonna last long like this. Fuck!” He ground out.
She grit her teeth as his thrusts became harder, more erratic. “Then fill me, Az. Need your cum.”
Slipping a hand between them, he pressed his thumb to her clit, moving it in that perfected motion he’d finessed over the years as he diligently studied her body, a scholar whose sole discipline laid in pleasuring his mate. Locking his eyes with her, he gently commanded “Cum with me baby.”
With that they both let go. Their releases filling the room like a song. A melody Azriel would never tire of, one he replayed in his mind somehow far too often, yet never enough during his time away.
Azriel stayed inside of her until their breaths settled, evening out into sync with eachother. He reveled in the warmth of her. His perfect mate - physically, emotionally, spiritually. He’d never take this for granted.
Finally he pulled out of her in one long sweep, she looked down to admire the still considerable length of him even when partially softened. Her stomach dropped to see blood mixed in with their combined releases.
“Az, oh, I’m so s-” She started but he cut her off.
“Baby. It’s just a little blood.”
She almost looked ashamed. “I know but- I’m embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed?” He puzzled. “It’s completely natural. Do you really think blood bothers me? Come on now beautiful, we’ve had sex during your cycle before. Why shy away now?”
“I just didn’t expect the bleeding to have started already. It explains why I’ve felt so lethargic, I suppose.”
Azriel went to get a warm cloth from the adjoined washroom, returning to wipe her. Her cheeks flushed at the intimate action.
“Stop overthinking it. Besides, we’re mates.” He smiled, a soft look overtaking his eyes. “If you still want to have children with me someday, your cycle is kind of an essential step of the process.”
Y/N flushed at the comment. The thought of carrying his babies was something she’d dreamed about for years now. Thank the gods for her distant Illyrian ancestry and the genes that blessed her with curvy hips capable of birthing winged babes.
“You know, with my cycle returning… we could always start trying? If we stopped taking our tonics now - it should be out of our system in time for ovulation. Rhys has offered recently to let me bring on an assistant book keeper, which would be excellent timing.”
Azriel’s heart fluttered at the thought of it. His mate round and glowing as she carried their baby, a babe that would know so much more love than he ever had as a child. Something so pure and beautiful that could come from the love between he and his mate. They’d talked about it for years now, a dream of theirs. He had to quickly blink away the silver lining his eyes at the gift she was offering him, his selfless mate in all her infinite love. There was no way he could verbally reply in the moment without choking up so he sent waves of adoration, joy, and gratitude down the bond.
She sent every bit of love right back to him, propping up on her elbows to capture his lips in a promising kiss.
———-
After they came to a decision, Azriel carried Y/N to the bathing room where a hot bath full of the oils and epsom salts he’d picked up that morning were waiting. She nearly cried at the relief of the welcoming heat that greeted her.
Before she could object, Azriel quickly stepped out to change the sheets, promptly returning to slide into the bath tub behind her. He washed her hair, massaging her scalp to which she nearly purred like a cat. He carefully washed her entire body massaging her back, thighs, calves, shoulders, and breasts in the process. By the time he was done tending to her, she’d nearly fallen asleep.
Ever the caretaker, she tried to wash him in return but he insisted that this was about her - passing her a rolled up towel to place behind her neck while she relaxed, letting the oils from the bath soak into her skin as he lathered himself. He got out first, toweling himself off before lifting her out of the tub and drying her off with a heated towel.
Though she insisted she could do it herself, Azriel wasn’t having it. This was his day to care for his mate so he helped her into cloth lined linens and selfishly left her topless, slipping her underneath the fresh blankets.
He assured her he’d be right back slipping out to the kitchen to heat up her favorite gnocchi soup and fetch a tray he’d prepared with her pain relieving tonic, bouquet of flowers, and more chocolate.
It didn’t take much to bring his mate joy - the genuine gratitude she’d send down the bond at even the smallest gestures was never lost on him. Perhaps it was self-serving but he couldn’t resist surprising her, coveting each warm smile she’d give him as if he’d never feel warmth again.
He prayed their future babes had her smile, her eyes, any of her features, truly. But most of all, her heart - maybe then, beating within the most precious gift the mother could offer them, she’d finally see just how beautiful she really was.
————
He had to beg and plead like a mad male but finally she agreed to spend the entire weekend in bed with him. Who knew that he, the one who was typically the workaholic, would be the one to grovel at his mates feet begging her to take a break.
Fortunately, she was not immune to his charms and obliged him. At one point, she snuck out of bed in an attempt to accomplish a few tasks around the house before her cramps humbled her. Azriel was promptly startled awake from the nap he’d drifted off to as she loudly exclaimed from down the hall, “Fuck it. Back to bed.”
They spent the rest of the weekend making love, whispering of their dreams for the future, indulging in sweets, and reveling in each others touch with no shortage of laughter and kissing in between.
——————————
A/n: So I’ve totally been under the weather this weekend with no motivation to write but as I laid in bed with my own partner tending to me with whatever I needed, I couldn’t resist writing this. I intended it to be a Drabble but the words just kept flowing. I stan fluffy Az. Anyway, thanks for reading!
For those of you waiting on new parts to my current fics - I promise they’re coming along and will be out soon! xo ♥️
#sarah j maas#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#a court of silver flames#a court of frost and starlight#azriel#a court of mist and fury#a court of wings and ruin#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x reader#acotar smut#acotar fluff#sickfic#shadowsinger#shadowsinger smut#shadowsinger x reader#acotar oneshot#fluff and smut#acotar fluff and smut
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What matters most /// Azriel X F!Reader
Summary: "i’m not sure if you taking requests but I was wondering if you could write something for Az where he has a whole mate and child/family and the IC doesn’t know bc he was to scared for people to know and therefore putting his little family in danger 😭 kinda just an angsty fluffy fic 🫶🏻"
Warnings: Mentions of injury, angst and fluff
Word Count: 2,4K
Notes: This request was so fun, i love this fic very much. Thanks again for the request anon ❤️❤️
Main Masterlist
Tired eyes roam around, wings almost touching the ground, Azriel’s focus on the other side of Velaris as Rhysand kept talking about the same problems in the Hewn City. He really tried, but the tugs in his chest urged him home. To her.
“We need to go there next week.” Rhysand looked around, his eyes landing on the clearly distracted Shadowsinger. “Everyone must go.” He emphasised, making Azriel internally groan in annoyance.
He wanted to ask for some time off, take his mate and their daughter on a vacation, enjoy their presence and just be with them for as long as he could. Rhys dismissed the meeting and he immediately jumped out of his seat. He wanted to be with her, hold her in his arms and tell her how much he missed her. A month away from his mate and their family was always hard, crushing his spirit and draining his energy until he was by her side again.
Without a proper goodbye and completely ignoring Feyre’s invitation to stay for dinner, Azriel fled, his wings carrying him with the wind. The house on the outskirts of Velaris irradiated life. The faelights surrounding the garden welcomed him home, he happily sighed, pushing the door open and sniffling the air, chicken and herbs filled his senses, a tint of strawberry mixed with chocolate chips.
He smiled as the strawberry scent grew stronger, and a pair of arms wrapped itself on his left leg. He looked down, the toddler, 3 years older than Nyx, moved herself around, the tiny wings slowly whooshing in the air as he scooped her up.
“Mommy! DADDY’S HOME.” Little Selene screamed, and he kissed her cheek.
“How are you, baby? Did you take care of mommy for me?” The little girl nodded excitedly.
“I did, and mommy took good care of me too.” Her arms wrapped around his neck and she kissed his face, loudly smacking her lips against his skin.
“I don’t deserve a kiss too?” His beautiful mate appeared in front of him, some hair strands falling from the bun she always wore while she cooked, a dirty apron covered her front and she held a wooden spoon, Azriel never saw a much more beautiful sight in his entire life.
Placing Selene on the floor, he pulled her by the waist, his lips delicately brushing against her warm ones. Bliss was the only word close enough to describe the feeling of being in her embrace, being near them, his two girls, the two people he loved the most in this world.
“How was the mission?” She asked, grabbing his hand and leading the way towards their bedroom. Azriel could see the candles illuminating the bathroom, and the bathtub filled to the brim with water and foam, his favourite soap filled his nostrils. She always had a bath ready for him, a pair of fresh clothes and a warm meal whenever he got home from a mission, he could stay two days away or two years, he would always get home to that.
“Incredibly annoying, I couldn't wait to be done and come home.” He discarded his clothes, her hungry gaze watched his every move, he could hear her swallowing hard at his naked figure. He submerged in the hot water, his muscles relaxing right away, she sat by the tub, a cloth in hand and started to rub his back.
“And I couldn't wait to have you back home.” She rubbed a particularly hard spot on his neck that had him moaning in relief. He rested his head against her thigh, her long fingers stroked in between his hair, massaging his scalp. “Lene has a surprise for you.” She warned and he looked at her.
“What is it?” His wife giggled, and raised an eyebrow, which always indicated that she would keep quiet. He smiled at her, stealing the cloth from her hands and rubbing himself. “Then I'd better hurry up.” She nodded, getting up and heading out of the room.
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
“As we trained, baby.” Y/N spoke, the late night breeze was a comfortable relief against the hot summer night. Azriel sat by the porch, Y/N held Lene’s hand and the little girl looked at her mother for reassurance. “You won’t fall, and if you do, daddy and I are here to catch you, always.”
With a confident gleam in her eyes, Selene’s wings moved, forcing her body upwards, little by little she started to float, her little hands slipping out of her mother’s reach. Azriel watched in complete awe as his daughter flew, her little body being carried towards the main gate and back to her mother. A month ago, Selene couldn’t go anywhere without holding their hands.
He got up, clapping and urging her for another lap towards the gate and back to him. Her dark hair moved around in the wind, her flushed cheeks and her proud expression crashed against his chest. She squealed in delight as he held her, spinning her around.
“That was so amazing. My girl is growing up so fast.” He kissed her cheek. “Soon you will be flying faster than your old daddy here.” Selene nodded in agreement.
“I’ll be the fastest Illyrian in the world.” Her mother came up to them, her fingers poking her belly, making Selene squirm and laugh.
“You will, my love. But now it’s time to go to bed, okay?” The little girl looked at her father, her mothers eyes looking at him. She was the perfect mix of them both.
“You heard your mother.” He leaned to whisper in her ear. “We can’t disobey her, or else she’ll ground both of us.” Selene nodded, and they took her inside. Azriel placed her in bed, kissing her forehead and wishing her a goodnight, once again telling her how proud he was of her flight.
“She wanted to train all month.” Y/N said, removing the hair tie and letting her hair fall loose, she removed her clothes and reached for one of his old shirts that reached the middle of her thighs. “I wish I could teach her more.”
Despite being a full born Illyrian, Y/N was born without wings, no one understood how this even happened, but Azriel was glad that she was spared from the wings clipping cruelty that still happened on the camp she was born.
“You do more than enough, tonight just proved it. She’ll carry you when you’re too old to even walk.” She laughed, her beautiful smile plastered across her face.
“So I only get to fly when I'm in diapers?” She rested her head against his chest.
“Okay, okay. I’ll take you flying tomorrow.” He rolled his eyes and she playfully slapped his chest. “You have no idea how much I love you.” He blurted after a minute of silence. “I’ll ask Rhys for some time off.”
“You will?” Her big eyes turned towards him, hope sparked in them. He knew he worked a lot, and she was very patient with him missing important things, but someone could only be patient to a certain point, he knew she would snap soon and he didn’t blame her.
“I will, I promise to you.” She kissed his chest.
“I love you, Az.” He could see the excitement covering her tone even if she tried to hide it, he was going to ask Rhys after the trip to the Court of Nightmares, he was sure that he would understand.
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
Azriel fixed his leathers, the new syphon in his chest was a shade darker than the others, he had used his main one to make a ring for Y/N and a necklace for Selene, so they would always have an important part of him with them. The remaining of the stone was well guarded in case he needed to make more jewellery for Lene’s future siblings.
“Everyone ready to go?” Rhysand’s voice sounded from somewhere behind him, but before he could muster a response, a piece of paper materialised itself in front of him. At the same time, his chest was flooded by a wave of pure distress and fear. He shifted anxiously, opening the paper.
“Selene got too excited flying and she fell, i think she broke her arm. I’m taking her to the healers hall, please meet me there.” The words sank in his chest, she was eager to fly a longer distance because he had said if she could fly until she reached the tree a few feet away from their house, he would take her flying for a whole day. It was his fault.
He didn’t register the voices calling his name, he just wanted to get to Selene as fast as he could. He was halfway into the threshold, hand on the cold doorknob, ready to leave, when his body suddenly went completely still. He couldn’t move.
“I told you to stay.” Rhysand’s High Lord voice commanded and he growled, turning to him slowly.
“Let me go.” Azriel demanded. Rhys raised an eyebrow, he never had to use his powers on Azriel because he never failed to do his duty.
“Whatever is wrong with you, it's not more important than this trip, i told you everyone must go.” Everyone in the room could see the rage simmering in the Shadowsinger’s gaze, his golden eyes burning holes in Rhysand’s skull.
“I don’t want to fight with you. LET. ME. GO.” His pure will of being with his family pushed Rhysand’s restrainings away, they silently watched as he started to move.
“I already told y..” Rhysand was cut short by the furious laughter of Azriel.
“Nothing is more important than my daughter.” The words left his lips, leaving the whole inner circle astonished, his what? “Let alone that maggot who thinks he’s better than you.” Azriel turned around. “So I'll see you later.” And with that he left.
Azriel kept his little family hidden from everyone, even from the people he trusted the most in the world, cuz he could never forgive himself if something ever happened to them. The thought of having them kidnapped and used as a way to get to him, their bruised bodies and broken spirit always flooded his mind whenever he thought of revealing them to the world. They were his most precious treasure and he would do anything in his power to keep them safe from the people who could harm them.
“We need to go after him.” Feyre said, the distressed expression on his face completely shattered her heart. “And you will apologise, he would never fail his duty if it wasn’t important for him, you should’ve let him go.” She scolded and guilt filled Rhys’s violet eyes. He nodded, the Hewn City could wait, his brother was more important, and apparently his niece’s wellbeing too.
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
As the inner circle arrives at the Healers Hall, they spot Madja, she’s talking to a female. The female holds a little winged girl tightly against her chest, the little girl has a cast on her left arm, her little eyes are red with tears, a wet trail down her cheeks and the cutest pout ever. Without needing confirmation, they just know that it’s them.
They slowly approach, Azriel’s eyes meet Rhysand, he’s holding a glass of water and heading back to the female’s side. She’s too focused on Madja to notice the group coming behind them. The little girl notices tho, her eyes looking curiously at them, her features painfully familiar to the male standing by her side. Azriel whispered something to the female as Madja left.
She turned to them, her hand smoothing the girl’s hair. They looked beautiful together, and they wondered if she was his mate. By the way he pulled her close, they could only assume that yes, she was his mate. They could only guess what reason he had to hide them, the family he always wanted, how heavy this secret might’ve been to carry alone.
“What happened to this beautiful girl?” Feyre asked, stepping forward. Selene looked at her parents for reassurance, the two of them nodded slowly.
“Tell what you’ve been up to, Selene.” The female’s soft voice sounded. Feyre almost laughed with the coincidence, certainly Azriel noticed it. Selene the goddess of the Moon and Nyx the goddess of the Night.
“I wanted to fly like daddy, but I fell.” She lifted the cast to them. “Do you want to sign it?” Feyre nodded, despite looking like Azriel, she wasn’t as shy as he was.
“Not now baby.” He said, his eyes locked up in a staring match with Rhys. “Maybe later, when they come over for dinner.” The High Lord nodded, they wouldn't miss this chance of learning about this secret part of his life.
⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆
The house was cosy, in a quiet place, like they always pictured Azriel’s house as. Coloured markers were scattered around the living room table, everyone needed to pick one and sign Selene’s cast in order to access the rest of the house, as she happily demanded. Swirls of shadows, hearts, flowers and names marked her cast, she meticulously examined every single drawing, before happily dragging the three year old boy along with her, towards a pile of toys.
Y/N, as she introduced herself, was moving around the kitchen, different aromas lingered in the air, Elain was immediately by her side, chopping vegetables. Feyre and Mor prepared the table, while Nesta watched over the kids. The females talked, getting to know all they could about Y/N and their family. She happily engaged in the conversation like they were long time friends.
Azriel, Cassian and Rhys sat by the living room, cups filled with liquor. Rhys wanted to apologise, so he cleared his throat, his violet eyes filled with regret. The two males stopped the chat, turning to him.
“I’m so sorry for how I acted. I should’ve assumed that you would never leave if it wasn’t important for you.” The Shadowsinger nodded. “I should’ve never stopped you.”
“And I should've told you, a long time ago.” He answered.
“No, you didn’t have to.” Cassian intervenes.
“He’s right, you had your reasons, I would've done the same for Feyre and Nyx.” Azriel smiled, knowing very well that he would, in fact, do the same if he ever needed to.
“I don’t want to hide them anymore.” He looked over to his mate, talking with his sisters in law, and his daughter, playing with her cousin.
“Then we’ll be glad to be their protectors.” Rhysand spoke. Cassian reached for his and Azriel’s hand.
“As long as we live, they will be safe. All of them. That is a promise.” And their skins prickled, a tattoo forming to seal the bargain made between the three brothers. As long as they lived, their families would always be safe, no harm would ever get to them.
#acotar#azriel shadowsinger#sarahjmaas#moonlightazriel#azriel#shadowsinger#azriel x reader#night court#azriel x y/n#velaris#azriel acotar
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Right around the corner - Azriel
(1), (2), (3), (4), (5)
Plot: four times someone notices something weird about Azriel, and that time someone figured it out.
Remember, I'm taking requests! This Azriel fic is an Azriel x reader, but she doesn't appear yet. Let me know if you want a second part with a formal introduction to the family!
Through the years, Cassian had learned a few things about Azriel. He could proudly say that, even if he wasn’t a spy master himself, he was quite observant. Picked things here and there about people, noticed small habits and routines. For example, he knew that Rhysand liked his coffee boiling hot, that Mor always brought something red from wherever she traveled, and that Feyre ordered the colors she painted with in certain way.
From all of them, he spent most time with Azriel, so it made sense that Cassian knew him. Or thought so.
Cassian knew Azriel sometimes talked to his shadows, even argued with them. The male liked his boots clean and couldn’t stand blood on his clothes. He preferred tea over coffee and liked bad jokes, even if he always scoffed at them.
Cassian thought Azriel was a picky eater. That he hated berries, because he had never seen his friend eat any.
So, when after a tough monthly shopping session for the house, he found a berries box, he opened it without a second thought. It was what he always did – eat from the box before he put it away, infatuating Rhysand, who liked everything in its place.
He only had time to open the box and touch the first berry before Azriel snatched it from his grip, tucking it away.
“Don’t touch it” he grumbled, still focused on putting the eggs away.
“Why not? Rhy’s not here. He won’t mind” he would mind, thought. Not that Cassian had cared about it. “It’s just one berry. I barely ate lunch”
“That sounds like your problem” Azriel gave him a wary look when he tried to get closer. “Don’t”
“They’re berries. Give them to me” Cassian replied, putting his palm up and waiting for his snack.
“You’ll have to wait until dinner”
Cassian frowned, because it might had been one berry, but berries were brought because he liked them and usually ended up in a bag in his room, either way. The only problem he had faced so far was Rhysand disappointed face when he found the empty box laying on the counter.
He rounded the kitchen island until he was next to Azriel. Once more, he reached for the box of berries. That time, he was met with a cold, aggressive grip on his wrist by one of his shadows.
“Dude. What’s with the berries?” he asked, staring at his unmoving wrist with morbid fascination.
“I bought them for me, they’re not for the house”
“You don’t… like berries”
Azriel seemed surprised at the statement, and finally looked at him. And for the first time in a long time, Cassian realized he had surprised him. That he had caught Azriel in a lie, or maybe in an omission of the truth. A truth he didn’t want or feel like sharing.
Maybe, any other day, Cassian would have let it go by. If it had happened with any other food, or with any other person, it wouldn’t have made him suspicious. But Azriel actually looked surprised, and Cassian had tried enough to know it was impossible to catch him in a lie.
“Well, I do now” he shrugged finally. “So keep your nasty hands out of the box”
Before Cassian could reply, the shadow holding his hand curled back into its master and Azriel winnowed away, berries in hand and a soft smile on his face.
-
Even though Mor didn’t like Azriel the way he liked her, couldn’t love him like he wanted to, she appreciated him as a friend. As a good friend, who was there for her always and through everything. And it was selfish of her, she knew, but she had grown used to the details of being loved. Appreciated, cared for. Wanted.
When she caught his gaze across the room, she was used to watching him blush and look away. When they went out to have fun, she was used to his eyes fixed on her back, not subtle at all. And worst of all, she had been kind of taking advantage of the presents he gave her every now and then.
They weren’t short of money, and Azriel had bought her many things through the years. Something she stared at, something that made him think of her. Multiple things that warmed her heart, not in the way he wanted to.
It was only logical that when she found Azriel at her door with a velvet box, looking nervous and shy, it was just that.
“Az. What a surprise” she tried to smile. Tried not to think about his dejected face once she told him she appreciated the gift but wanted to be alone. “Isn’t it too late for you to be up?”
“Yeah, I… it’s been a rough day” he shrugged.
The first indication that something was different was that he didn’t shy from her stare, nor hid the box behind his back. The second was that he didn’t leave it at her hands like a timing bomb.
Mor raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue. She had been about to go to sleep, after a long day for herself, and supposed half of Velaris was already deep into it.
“Maybe you want to come in?”
She couldn’t physically let him down, drop his expectations and hurt him. More than once, she had given him false hopes in fear of losing the friendship. And when she opened a little bit farther the room of her apartment, she intended to do that.
To accept whatever he had brought her, to hug him tight and thank him, and to let him know that she was really tired and would see him tomorrow, maybe. Then, she would go to bed feeling like a horrible person.
Mor didn’t expect Azriel to open the box himself, and show her something she knew wasn’t for her.
Inside the box, was a beautiful blue sapphire necklace, encased in a silver tear that shone under the moonlight. Everything Azriel had got her, everything anyone got her, was always red. Because that was her color, that was her soul. Not blue and delicate, like the piece of jewelry he held in his hands.
Azriel didn’t have to say anything else before she noticed the problem.
“It broke and I don’t know how to fix it. It’s… really important for me. And I need it for tonight. For right now” he rambled, like she had never seen him do. “I stayed working late and now the shop is closed”
“It’s beautiful” she whispered, having seen nothing so soft, so beautiful lately. “How did it break?”
“Doesn’t matter. Can you fix it? Like, right now?”
Azriel could have asked her to go through her own jewels and pick the most beautiful to give it to him, and she would have said yes, because she owned it to him. So she nodded and ushered him inside, with her eyes fixed on the necklace.
She didn’t mention that it was too delicate for him, that it was obviously for a woman. Mor ignored her conflicted thoughts about it as she touched the broken chain.
It only took her thirty minutes to find a chain similar to the original one, and another ten to convince Azriel to take it and don’t worry about it. Any trace of sleep erased from her body as she stared at him. At Azriel looking at the fixed necklace with a crooked smile.
“Who is it for?” she asked finally, as she opened the door for him once more. “Anyone special worth mentioning”
“No one. It’s a family relic, from my mother I think” he explained, looking between her and the open air. As if he couldn’t stand staying in the ground a second longer. “Thank you for fixing it. See you tomorrow, Mor”
Two thoughts were on her mind as she closed the door. The first one, was that she knew for a fact that blue was his color, not his mother’s color. She wore green, purple, black. Dark colors, if the portraits were correct.
The second thought, that was confirmed when she looked at her stunned face in the mirror, was that Azriel hadn’t acknowledge her outfit. A thin, black nightgown that barely covered her thighs, and that other nights had sent the shadow singer stuttering apologies right and left before leaving in a rush.
-
Amren stared with half-closed eyes at her friends, noticing the change right away.
She usually wouldn’t entertain that type of activities, thinking ‘family game nights’ were a waste of time. But since Feyre appeared in their lives, she had to admit she liked her family better. She liked the way Rhysand softened around her, how at ease he was and how relaxed she made everyone.
True to her habits, Amren had chosen the farthest chair and the most expensive wine, and was watching the night unfold in front of her.
At the begging, she had thought it was weird that Azriel, almost as closed off as her, had walked in with a bright smile on his face. His hair had been ruffled in a windless, summer night, his shoulders wider.
It took him almost an hour to identify the new smell in the room, and find the source around his wrist. Almost unnoticeable between all of the scents combined – yet clear enough for her.
She stared at the black rubber band around his wrist, similar to the ones Cassian wore but not quite the same. Amren made it her mission to unfold the different smells and identify the new ones.
Rhysand’s was dark and fresh, like the night. His was intertwined with a sweeter one, Feyre’s, that smelt like vanilla and power. Raw, beautiful power that Amren admired.
Cassian’s was wild and abundant. He smelt like war camps and sweat, but somehow, like home too. Nesta’s scent was there too, even if the female wasn’t around. Amren could identify her just fine – and the new scent wasn’t hers.
After filtering the rest of presences, she finally focused on the band. Azriel was still unmated, that much she could tell. His was like ashes and candles. And behind all of that, she finally found it – baked bread, fresh food, vegetables.
“What are you looking at?”
Her line of sight was interrupted when Azriel pushed his sleeve farther down his arm, covering the rubber band. He knew where Amren was looking, and Amren knew that the question wasn’t rude. Still, Azriel’s voice held an edge she had only heard in Cassian or Rhysand’s voice before.
She smiled lazily at him before answering, making sure everyone was busy trying to guess what Rhysand was gesturing.
“Nothing, boy”
“You were staring quite hard for being nothing” Azriel replied. He fixed his hazel eyes on her, a hard edge on his features.
“I thought I smelt something on you” she purred, enjoying way too much the way the spymaster tensed. “Have you grown a sweet tooth lately?”
Amren usually didn’t stick her nose where it didn’t belong. She liked her life quiet, and minding other people business wasn’t her thing. Every now and then, she did like riling up Cassian or messing with Mor, but she had yet to play with the shadowsinger.
She respected him just as much, if not more, as the rest of the family. Understood the difficulty of his job, the people’s souls he carried behind. Most of their interactions were friendly and cordial, nothing more.
However, that night she felt like she had found something wort digging in.
“Do they know yet?” she asked him when Azriel didn’t answer.
“That I stopped in my way here to buy food?” even if the irritation and protectiveness fell from his face, a muscle of his jaw twitched. “Yeah. Cassian already ate half of the banana bread”
“He did, now?”
They silently stared at each other for a long minute. She dared him to deny it once more, to tell her that the smell under his sleeve was just from a quick stop to the bakery. He dared her to ask about the rubber band and give him an excuse to leave the game night.
Finally, Amren looked away and answered correctly to what Rhysand was trying to represent with gestures. Cassian got up and quickly started an argument about how to gesture correctly, while Feyre just laughed her ass off and Mor scurried off to bring more wine.
The next time Amren looked at Azriel’s wrist, the rubber band was gone.
-
The clock chimed five times in a row when the door finally opened, and Rhysand looked up from the papers on his desk. Apparently, he had to write a formal apology to the summer court in Cassian’s account, and certainly, he wasn’t any close to writing it than what he was in the afternoon.
Now, at five o`clock in the morning, his worry had gotten the best out of him. Rhysand had promised himself that, if by the time the sun came up Azriel wasn’t back, he would start destroying Illyrian camps until he found him.
“Before you say anything” Azriel rose a bloodied hand towards the high lord, and no matter how old Rhysand was, he felt his heart plummeting to the ground in worry. “Not my blood. Not even a scratch”
“Hard to believe. You’re leaving a puddle of it in my carpet” his voice was stained, his anger and worry mixing together.
“I…”
For the first time, Rhysand watched Azriel lost at words. The male looked down at his clothes, that were indeed soaked in blood and gore. He was still carrying all his swords and knives. And from where Rhysand stood behind his deck, he could see none of them had been left unused.
He had received a note from Azriel a day ago saying he was going to check on some Illyrian camps for illegal wing clipping, and that he would be gone for a few hours. Since then, Rhysand had had to deal with the worry and panic of not knowing if he was alive, since he closed his mind to Rhys.
Azriel looked back at him, and any type of sermon would have to wait until the morning. Rhysand got up and circled the desk, until he was in front of his friend. Who looked at him with sorrow and pain.
Rhysand didn’t let the surprise of seeing the shadowsinger, the spy master, so vulnerable. He only gripped his shoulder tight.
“What happened?”
“They didn’t even deny it” Azriel admitted, his voice tight. “One of the girls in the village was brave enough to show me where they keep them”
“Keep what?” even if he asked, Rhysand had a feeling he knew.
“The wings. They kept all the wings pinned to a tavern’s wall, like fucking hunting prices. Rhys, they were so… so many. So many”
He knew his brother’s history with the camps. Had seen what they do to women for himself, had fought for years against it. Still, Azriel had always been the calmer one. Cassian often went into carnages when he found an illegal clipping, but Azriel was the one to ask first and kill later. To organize trips into the mountains with reinforcements and not take decisions by himself.
The Azriel covered in blood in front of him, with tears shinning on his eyes, was new.
Rhysand was at loss as words, torn between beating him for his stupidity of leaving alone and going back himself to look for survivors and kill them slower.
“What you did… Az, anything could have happened to you” he tried to reason. “You know better than to do this on your own. What happened?”
“I got a strong hold. Knew where to find them.”
“How?”
Azriel didn’t answer, and Rhysand didn’t need to pry into his mind to know he would find it closed. Sighing, he pulled Azriel close. It didn’t matter that he was staining his clothes too, that Feyre was still waiting for him in bed and that he was ready to drop dead from worry.
Rhysand hugged Azriel and let him grip his vest until it wrinkled, until he was ready to talk. He trusted him with his life, and he had a feeling whatever was what had brought Azriel to that camp wasn’t ready to be shared yet.
He didn’t count the minutes that passed by until his body relaxed between his arms, didn’t acknowledge the wetness on his neck.
“I need to do something”
“What? Unless it’s a fucking bath and – “
“No, I won’t – it’s not what you think” Azriel took a deep breath and locked his eyes with Rhysand. The high lord nodded. “I’ll talk about it tomorrow, I promise. But just tonight, I need you not to ask question. I won’t be sleeping in my dorms”
“You need to take a bath and rest”
“I will take a bath and rest”
Rhysand knew Azriel had an apartment, somewhere. He knew where Mor lived, where Amren had bought a house, but his brother had lived as long as he could remember in the wind house, with him. He didn’t have many personal details, but in the room at the end of the corridor he kept his weapons and clothes.
He even kept the horrible scarf Nesta knitted him last year that everyone else had thrown away.
Before he said anything else, something in his soul told him to shut up. To accept his request, the only one he had done in a long time, and leave the details for the next morning.
“I guess it’s time for me to go home too” he smiled softly. “Just – clean off that blood. And don’t forget to report in the morning. We need to talk”
“We will”
Without further explanation, Azriel disappeared between his shadows. And Rhysand was left with the sudden smell of burnt bread under his nose.
-
What Feyre missed the most about her human life, and from the spring court, were the quiet walks in nature. The smell of leaves and grass, the sounds of the animals and the absence of other voices. Velaris was a busy place, and even if the people were more than nice, she missed quiet.
Nyx had made sure that his mom never knew quiet again.
He was a happy baby, loud and cheerful, and slept less than any person Feyre had known. Always wide awake, smiling and babbling. Before he even turned one, she had grown used to taking midnight strolls down the Wind House like another routine.
That night, Nyx was playing with her tattooed fingers and munching on his pacifier, still managing to babble some words. Rhysand had gone to bed late and was sleeping in their room, unaware of the night walk. And Feyre, who held Nyx tightly against her chest, felt like falling asleep on her feet.
She was considering turning around and letting Nyx lay awake staring at the ceiling when the baby stopped moving.
“Time for a diaper change?” she guessed, used to that type of silence. “I’ve never met a stricter person when it comes to schedule. Most people use the bathroom at day, you know?”
“Bah”
“Yeah, most people sleep at night, I guess” she sighed.
Still, when she felt his diaper, she found it empty, and after a quick inspection of smell, she discovered it was clean. Through her sleepy haze, she frowned and looked at Nyx. He was pointing to the open door to the kitchen, to the table next to the entrance.
As the rest of the house, the kitchen was empty. Not even Azriel’s shadows, who usually snuck around and entertained Nyx for a while, were there.
Feyre walked inside the kitchen as Nyx became more restless, until the baby was close to the object he pointed at. Then, almost dropping from her embrace, he put his chubby hands on the surface and tried to crawl to his destiny.
“Nyx, baby, it’s late. You already had dinner” she sighed, trying to pull Nyx back.
But as soon as she separated his hands from the table, Nyx let the pacifier drop and whined pitifully. He smacked one rebel hand against Feyre’s cheek, showing her his utter disapproval of the action.
All Feyre needed was another slap to the face before she gave in and let Nyx have his way. She let the baby sitting on the counter, and holding his back, she bent down for the pacifier. When she rose again, Nyx had found his prize – something that certainly didn’t belong to their kitchen, since the most complex food she could make was soup.
Large and thin like a fork, Nyx was holding a kitchen tool made of plastic. It ended in soft peaks, similar to a brush. Similar to the baby brush Feyre used with him.
“Did you winnow that here?” she asked Nyx, not expecting an answer. “Please tell you didn’t steal anything”
Lately, Nyx had picked up his father’s power and was starting to conjure things he wanted or needed. It was cute, whenever it was a toy or a plushie. Last month, it was a very distressed Cassian that fell on Feyre, and it was not cute.
But before she could think about Nyx winnowing the tool, she recognized the already familiar smell of bread and cinnamon. Feyre smiled as Nyx brushed its end against his face, and the baby giggled.
During the next ten minutes, she brushed the tool herself against her baby’s hair, tummy and neck. It might had been a little unhygienic and certainly not very mom-like, but it was getting Nyx to drop his eyes and lean against her.
She ended up carrying the baby asleep on her arms, still gripping the new acquisition tight on his fist.
As Feyre let him rest on the crib and tucked him in, Rhysand finally woke up. He apologized softly for not getting up and urged his mate to get in bed with him. Just before he could fall back into a blissful sleep with his family safe besides him, Feyre spoke.
“Remind me tomorrow to wash that thing and give it back to Azriel’s mate. She’ll be happy to know it also works as a baby wand to sleep”
Feyre drifted off with his back to Rhysand as the male got up from the bed, processing the new information.
Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated
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Azriel x third-oldest-Archeron-sibling!Reader: Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You
A/N: I was in the mood for a writing a heated argument that turns into an even hotter make-out session, but then it got slightly depressing so…
Warning: slight angst but not much because I can’t take that emotionally :’)
-Part 2[*]-
“How was she today?”
You fight the urge to clench your jaw. The harsh snapping of your book is the limit to how far you’ll allow the leash on your anger to slip. Jealousy? Frustration? Whatever complicated nonsense he’s gotten you tangled up in.
“No hello? What about a how are you today?” You ask tersely. So much for keeping your emotions on a tight leash. His brow narrows a little—you don’t usually bubble over when he asks how your older sister is doing. “You weren’t practically bed-ridden for months,” he replies slowly, gauging your response carefully.
Instantly, guilt weighs in the pit of your stomach, and you look away quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you,” you soothe hastily. Gods, why did you say that to him? You’re trying to gain his favour, not make him think you’re an ungrateful, self-absorbed sister. “She was fine. We did some baking—well, Elain did some baking, I was reading something. It’s a new book, actually! Because I finished the last one, which was actually pretty good, but this one I think is set in the last war and…” you trail off when you notice the patient smile he’s giving you.
Right. He’s not interested in what book you’re reading, or how you spent the day. He’s not interested in you full stop. He’s interested in Elain. You fight the way disappointment wants to twist the edges of your mouth, instead plastering on a smile that you hope he reads as oops, look at me! There I go again, haha.
“Well,” you say, swallowing the lump in your throat, “she made some cupcakes—I think they were vanilla, and she put something that looked like jam inside. Really good. I’m sure she’d be happy for you to try one—if you ask,” you smile, adding in the details he wants to hear. For the Spymaster, he’s surprisingly open about his interest in Elain to you. But maybe that’s because you’re always so willing to answer any question you can for him.
“I’m glad,” he says, something glimmering in his hazel eyes. “And there were no silent spots? No abrupt changes?” You return your attention to the book in your hands, fingers running over the bound edges, “she was fine all the way. You never would have guessed everything she’s been through.” He hums, pleased with her progress. It’s a sound of contentment, from the back of his throat that you’re certain rumbles throughout his chest. It’s an effort to keep your attention on the book.
It’s been more than two years since the three of you were tossed into the Cauldron. Feyre and Rhysand are happy, Nesta’s made progress on healing herself and is now alarming in love with Cassian, Elain’s taking large steps in a good direction, too. You remember vividly the time when she would hardly utter a word for days, hardly shift her gaze from a strange spot in the middle-distance, how worried she made you and Nesta. And Feyre, obviously, but things were a little…strange at the time. They always had been.
You spent the first few months struggling to hold a meal down, often being wracked with spasms of anxiety and flushes of hot and cold. There was a time you would black out if you stood up too fast, and now you can hold down three meals a day without needing to run to the nearest latrine provided you don’t eat too quickly. You feel like yourself again, but fresher. You know you aren’t the same as you were, though. Not after the Cauldron, but you had no choice but to adapt. With eternity ahead of you, you couldn’t stand the thought of spending it weakened and frail—hardly capable of standing without feeling dizzy.
Maybe you are a little jealous that Elain’s getting all the attention. She’d always been the centre of Nesta’s attention, and while you were on fairly good terms with your oldest sister throughout your childhood, you were no competition for her sharp mind and sharper tongue. Feyre was the wild one, Elain the pretty one, Nesta the cunning one—then there was you.
What’s your place in your dysfunctional family?
“It’s good she seems to be steadily improving,” Azriel says, breaking you from your inner thoughts. You nod dutifully, agreeing with him. “She smiled for most of it, too,” you add, remembering how pleased she’d been when they came out how she wanted—after numerous attempts. “Though she was covered in flour—her hair was practically white!” You laugh fondly, covering your mouth with your hand.
A faint smile appears on his lips and, for just a moment, you let yourself pretend he’s smiling at the sound of your laugh.
But that’s all you have to report back to him, and even if you’ve pleased him, he’ll be finding an excuse to slip off now that he knows she’s been fine. You’ll admit, it’s difficult to remember she’s your sister when he so clearly would choose her over you. It’s not even a competition.
So you swallow your nerves, tuck your hands behind your back and peer up at him. “Hey, you read right?” You ask, keeping a pleasant smile on your lips—lest he think you’re too eager. He blinks out of whatever thought he was having, clearing his gaze as he looks down at you, then nods. “I’ve been known to pick up a book from time to time,” he answers. He’s in a good mood, it seems.
“Do you have a favourite?” You ask, tipping your head at a slight angle, appearing to look at the books stacked on the shelves. “I feel like I’ve been rereading the same story over and over again and want to try something else.”
“You’re asking me to pick just one?” He replies, quirking his brow. The smile that comes to your mouth isn’t as fake, or as controlled as you would like—it stretches your lips thin, showing the gaps either side of the top row of your teeth.
“Okay, give me a couple to have a nose at. So if one bores me to tears, I can pick up another,” you laugh gently, pulling the book tight to your chest, worried you’re showing too much. Does he know how your days often centre around whether he’ll seek you out? The too-short conversations that often revolve around your sister?
“Does Elain read?” He asks, tentatively, and it’s like a stone to your cheek. You clutch the book tighter to your chest, taking in a slow, quiet breath. “I can ask her? Subtly, of course,” you force a smile, fingers digging into the spine of the book. He shakes his head, “I’ll do it. I’d like to see how she’s doing for myself.”
You swallow the lump in your throat, “to be fair, she might be sick of them for how long she was in here last year. They might be an eyesore by now,” you laugh softly. But instead he frowns disapprovingly, like you shouldn’t be making jokes at her expense. And suddenly that urge appears, the urge to confront him about his behaviour—why he never talks to you for you.
“Azriel…?” You say, the smile slipping from your lips, though your make sure your eyes still sparkle a little, keeping them partially crinkled. But then you bite the inside of your lip, and the rest of the mask fades, leaving you raw, and more than a bit scared. If you overthink it, it’ll never get done.
“Why do you…I don’t feel like you ever…like we ever talk. Us,” you say, then flush at the word—so intimate. Us. “What do you mean?” He asks, standing sturdy before you. A seed of frustration sprouts within, but you push the irritation away. “I just…You’re always asking me about Elain.” His brow narrows a bit, and you want to take the words back.
“What else?”
You look up at him, all beauty and classical grace, and such unearthly, ethereal lines and angles to him you wish you knew how to paint like Feyre. “What do you mean, ‘what else’?” You ask, a little hurt.
“I mean, is there something else you want to talk about?” He asks, gently. Carefully.
My book would be nice. I’d like you to ask how I’m doing today, how I’m feeling, what I want to do.
“Something that doesn’t involve my sister, would be nice,” you laugh, giving him a smile that reads, can you really blame me for not wanting to talk about Elain all the time? He doesn’t smile like you’d hoped, but frowns. “Do you not like her?” He asks instead, “did something happen between you two?”
“No,” you say hurriedly. “No—nothing happened, we’re fine. Right as rain. It’s just…you always ask after her, and I feel like that’s the only reason you approach me.” You swallow, having begin to put the truth out there for him. “You seem fine talking about other things with Feyre and Nesta, but I can’t remember the last time we talked about something that wasn’t my sister, and I… I don’t really…” You trail off, watching him nervously.
His frown only deepens as he takes you in. “I’m asking out of concern for her well-being, you understand that, don’t you?” He asks.
“I know, I know, but…are you?” You reply, managing to reign in your wince at the blunt question. When he only looks at you without response, you push forward. “I mean, you…you like her, don’t you? That’s why you ask all these questions? Why you care more than the others do?” You say, fighting to keep your voice even as the words come out. “And there’s nothing wrong with that,” you quickly amend, “but, you know, it would be nice to talk to you for you. And you for me. And, you know, she does have a…mate, so, I just thought—”
“What did you think?”
You blink at the sharp tone, his eyes colder than before, more sealed off. Still, you square your shoulders, keeping the book tucked tight against your front. “Well, that, maybe, it would be better to try somewhere else? Instead of investing in someone who’s practically already taken?”
“She doesn’t love him.”
“I know she says that, but—”
“But nothing,” he says, brow narrowing. “The mating bond can’t force someone to fall in love. If she doesn’t want him, she doesn’t have to have him.”
Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as you shift on your feet beneath his penetrating gaze. “Feyre and Rhys worked out,” you manage, eyes flitting away from his, focusing on the book in your hands. “And she didn’t love him at first.” The paper’s old and crisp—worn with age. “Then Nesta and Cassian also got together, too,” you add, the pads of your fingers dragging over the pages, “and you saw what Nesta was like. How badly she was struggling. They didn’t look like they were going anywhere but destruction, but—”
“Are you done with the nosey speculation into other people’s relationships, or is that how you’ve found yourself filling your time?”
Again you blink at him, caught off guard by the ice in his tone. “I’m not saying it’s wrong to pursue her, Azriel,” you appease—try to. “I’m just saying maybe you could try looking…elsewhere, you know? Maybe try something with someone else? That won’t end badly?”
“You don’t know it will end badly,” he replies, all former warmth gone, no trace of it in his beautifully designed features. “It will for someone. Even if you and Elain do somehow end up together, what about Lucien? If it were Feyre and Rhys, or Nesta and Cass, would you think it okay for someone to try and separate them? When they were chosen to be together?”
“Bad pairings happen. Rhys’ parents are a fine example.”
“Yes, but they’re rather suited for one another, don’t you think?” You ask, pushing forward, “Elain’s always excelled at social events. She easily settles into the flow of conversation—she knows what to say, and how to act to put people at ease around her. And Lucien does the same. He knows how to draw ties between people where there seem to be none, just like her. He knows how to keep conversation flowing without pushing it, how to keep things at the right pace, just like her.”
“While you…” you pause, and his jaw tightens.
“Go on,” he says icily, “tell me why think I’m undeserving of her.”
“I don’t think its a case of deserving, Azriel,” you say quickly. “But you…well, you try to blend into any corner you can when there are more than three people in the room.”
His brow narrows, “I didn’t realise you’d been keeping tabs on me.”
“Yes, well, you’re the only one I’m interested in, so.” Your voice is soft, bladed, honed. Resigned. You lips press into a thin line as your eyes flicker away from his, too embarrassed to look even in his general vicinity. You had never anticipated laying your heart to bare to be so…scary? Terrifying?
Anti-climactic.
Admitted in such a quiet, understated way. As if he isn’t the first one you’ve ever felt so strongly for. As if he isn’t the first one who’s given you a vague understanding of why some women were so happy to do whatever their husbands told them. Why they were so happy to live in subservience, and why that’s not what it was.
“You think you’re deserving of me?” He asks, coldly. Shame and embarrassment heat your features, but you manage to shoot back, “do you think you’re deserving of her?” You cross your arms over your chest, trying to prevent yourself from being intimidated by his height, and muscle, and beauty, and overall damned attractiveness that makes you weak in the knees.
His upper lip twitches in a repressed snarl, anxiety spiking in your chest. “Answer my question,” he says, softly, an edge to his voice. You swallow, “answer mine.” You’ve never demanded something from someone before, but it’s out there now, and it feels surprisingly good to insist on something for yourself.
He regards you silently, and it takes a remarkable strength to stand still beneath his icy gaze—knowing that he’s judging what he’s seeing. Weighing if you’re worth his answer.
“I think I gave a hint of my interest for her,” he says, eyes glittering with something cold that you’re unaccustomed to have turned on yourself. “And she reciprocated with her own signs.” He stares you down, unyielding, and powerful, and you want to run and hide. “What about you?”
You purse your lips to keep them from trembling as heat crawls beneath your skin with humiliation. But—no. Get over it. Make it through. Survive something else. “I think I’m tired, and hurt from knowing that you only talk to me because you want to know how my sister is doing,” you confess, voice wobbling. “I think it’s cruel to continue asking after her when I so obviously answer every question you have just so you might pay me a little more attention.”
There’s no bite to your words, and they come out softer and weaker than you had expected. You feel tired, and drained. Eyelids heavy and heart rate spiking every other beat, numerous crescent shaped indentations on the heel of your palms.
“Maybe you’d be better off turning your affections somewhere they’d be appreciated,” he says, icily. Your heart aches, and it takes a few humiliating moments for you to gather yourself enough that you won’t burst into tears when you again find your voice. “That’s all you have to say?” You manage, fingers trembling behind your back.
“Maybe if you were even half the female she is, I’d be tempted to show a little interest,” he snarls softly, eyes glittering with cold rage.
It feels like a smack to the face, a punch to your stomach. Your eyes go wide, then blur, hot pressure building steadily. You dig your nails into the binding of your book, and move to walk past him—at least preserve what little dignity is still intact by refusing to let him see you cry. He already barely sees you as a woman, you won’t win any points with your blubbering. He wants a female, not a girl.
But he seems to realise what he’s said and turns, gripping your upper arm to keep you from leaving. You allow him to stop you, if only because demanding he let you go would show your tears. “I didn’t mean that,” he says quietly, and you can hear the pity in his voice. “I spoke in anger, I did not mean to upset—”
“Get those hands off me,” you snarl, turning on him with defensive ire blazing in your pupils. Rage fresh from the forges.
He recoils as if you burned him. Retreats a step.
“Not nice, is it? Targeting someone’s insecurity—rubbing salt into an open wound?” You snap, blinking away the tears and pulling your arm back to yourself. “Don’t come asking me for updates on Elain again. I don’t want to talk to you if your only interest is in getting between her legs.”
He’s silent for a moment, and you debate just running from the library—you can feel the storm in him brewing, and you’re not sure you’re ready for him. But he doesn’t wait for you to decide, because the storm breaks right then and there. “At least she has someone interested in getting her into bed,” he says softly, hazel piercing into you. “Can you say the same?”
Mortification flushes your skin, mouth parting in humiliation. “I—…This is inappropriate,” you hiss to hide your burning shame. Because no, it’s always been Elain and Nesta to be pursued. His eyes gleam, reading your thoughts clear as day in your expression. “Thought not.”
Pain twists viciously across your chest, heart strings being plucked within an inch of snapping—pulled taught around your throat. “If I’ve never taken a man to bed, it is not because I am unwanted. Rather that I would not waste my self nor my time on someone I was not sure about. That I did not want with everything I have,” you whisper hoarsely—the final layer stripped bare for him to slice and dissect.
But then he steps forward, and without thinking, you yield a step. He’s not perturbed, and takes another. “You admit you have no experience in bed, yet think you could handle me?” He snarls softly, wings flaring ever so slightly at his back, shadows thickening. “I don’t think it’s a matter of handling you, Azriel.” His name is a little more than a whisper from your mouth. One he tracks eagerly.
“No?” He asks, stepping forward again, slowly herding you. “Then what?” You swallow, trying to stand your ground, but the sense of him is so overpowering, he threatens to obliterate every ounce of your own self. “I think it would be a matter of learning. And if you think I’m unprepared, then Elain is definitely no better off, so that clearly isn’t your issue.”
“At least she’s shared the bed of a man before, at least she would know what to do.” You don’t correct him that you have, in fact, shared a bed with a male before. A few in fact, by this point. Nesta’s the bad influence. He steps forward again, and he’s towering over you, hazel glittering between his shadows. “At least she wouldn’t lose her head over the slightest touch.”
And then his hands have landed softly on your hips, and your head is silent. Only his touch on your body, his warmth on your skin, seeping into your clothes. Does he find your shape pleasing? Is he feeling this mind-numbing shock? The tingling at his fingertips where they’re pressing into you?
For a too-long moment you just stare at him, thoughts eddying about without a destination, floating throughout your conscious.
��Still in there?” He taunts quietly, pushing you back, turning you gently as he feels the heat radiating from your skin, the stiffness to your body beneath his touch. It’s only when a hard, wooden shelf digs into the base of your spine that you realise he’s pushed you against the case. You open your mouth—to say what, you don’t know. He beats you to it either way. “You want to prove you haven’t already lost your mind?” He says softly, voice like a lover’s touch. You can do nothing but stare at him, panting softly, completely at his mercy. “Tell me to stop, or I’ll keep going. Say no, and it finishes,” he murmurs, keeping you pressed tight between his hips and the book case. “But I think you’ve already lost.”
You blink up at him, hardly a thought behind your eyes.
In the back of your mind, you’re struggling frantically to decode his words, translate them into something that makes sense. And then his challenge clicks, and you take a sudden, deep breath. You need to tell him to stop, to show him you’re still in control of yourself—that you haven’t lost your head over the slightest touch.
But then his mouth latches over yours, tongue prying your lips apart, and your efforts of rebellion are washed away. You go all warm, and soft, and pliable in his hands, melting like butter as you coat him. His piercing hazel eyes lock with yours as his mouth slants, one hand rising to the curve of your spine, pulling you against his front.
How are you supposed to stand against him when he annihilates everything that you are with the softest brush of his fingers—fingers that are now tracing up the path of your spine, reaching that final notch as they tangle with delicious pressure in your hair. His gaze cuts into you as his tongue drags across your own, flicking at the roof of your mouth.
He’s utterly unruffled, and you feel like you’re on the verge of bursting into flame right there, setting him ablaze in the process.
But then you’re again subverting his expectations, your hands flying over his shoulders as you tilt your head to allow him deeper. The only sign of surprise he allows is a blink of his eyes, but you’re already lifting onto your tiptoes—the swell of your breasts dragging over his chest in a way you must’ve learned males like. But where would you have learned?
Your arms tighten, then your hips are pressing against him, and—you’re fighting back, he realises. And for the first time in a long, long time, he feels excitement flare deep inside him as you stride to meet him. No matter that you aren’t Elain: he’s hungry, and you can make your own decisions. If you want him to stop, you need only say the word, and he’ll be off you. But if you don’t…well, he’s not going to be the one who backs out first.
He has a damn point to prove—that you have no idea what you’re getting into with him.
Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb
#azriel#acotar#azriel x reader#azriel acotar#shadowsinger#Azriel angst#Azriel x Archeron sibling#part one#Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You
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Practice On Me — Part Eleven — Azriel x Reader
Summary: Reader receives a much-needed pep talk in Velaris and gets thinking. Azriel receives a lecture in Windhaven by a frustrated Rhysand. Reader is surprised by an unexpected visitor to the City of Starlight.
Word count:
Warnings: A little bit of smut, 18+, minors dni.
Velaris feels like an entire world away from Windhaven.
You’ve been here only once before, when, as mischievous fourteen-year-olds, Rhysand had brought you. The High Lord had been in another court on business, which had seemed like the perfect time for Rhys to show you his other home. Only, his father had returned early, and had thundered — hard enough to shake the mountains — about strangers entering the shielded city without formal invitation. Not you, nor Cassian, nor Azriel, had been back since.
And that lingering encounter was why, when Roza brought you here three days earlier, you’d been nervous about coming face-to-face with the High Lord yet again.
But the handsome, roguish male had merely given you a long, slow perusal, and then smiled a charming smile — about the only thing Rhys seems to have inherited from him — and welcomed you to his home for as long as you do so please.
It’s tranquil, there’s no doubt about that. Light and airy and so beautiful that you can forget, for a time, that there’s a world outside the City of Starlight. You’ve spent the last three days at Roza’s side, exploring the city and helping her run light errands, and attending to her at the end of the day when the pregnancy tires her out.
The High Lord — Finadar, or Fin, as you’ve learned most people call him — does no such thing. He does not visit his pregnant mate after long, tiring days. Does not summon her.
Despite the growing new arrival in her belly, there’s a distinct lack of love between the two of them that surprises you, perhaps more than anything else.
But tonight, with Roza joining him for a public appearance, you’re left alone with your thoughts for the first time in three days. And you’re desperate to do anything to fight them off.
You wander the long, spacious halls of the High Lord’s opulent home, warm, despite the brutal mountain range that stands guard around it. This is a level of luxury you were never built for, and don’t quite know what to do with. You read from Roza’s broad selection of literature, and gorge on sweets in the kitchen, and slide along the polished floors on your socks, because why the fuck not.
It’s better than thinking. Anything is better than thinking.
But as the night wears on and the silence gets too loud, it’s hard to keep deeper thoughts at bay. Your heart aches relentlessly over the broken shards of your loving friendship group that you don’t know how to glue back together. Your mind swoons longingly over old memories, old smiles. You’re a hollow vessel of complications, and regrets, and excruciating love—
“I heard you were here.” A trilling voice echoes from the far end of the hall you’re traversing.
You turn, and you think you might choke out a strangled noise of relief at the sight of shimmering, golden curls and warm, brown eyes, huge like a doe’s.
Mor looks far better than the last time you saw her, that’s for sure. She’s always radiant, no matter what she has going on, but the sun-kissed glimmer has returned to her skin, and the gaunt fragility from her hardships has been snuffed out by delicious, enviable curves.
You’re in front of her in what feels like a few great strides, and she’s cupping your face in her hands and kissing both of your cheeks.
“I’ve missed you.” You breathe, realising, in that moment, just how much you have. She doesn’t spend as much time in Windhaven as she used to, and gods, the absence of a sincere female friend is a weighty one.
“I’ve missed you, too.” Concern fills her eyes as she studies you.
“Rhys, Az and Cass aren’t here. It’s just me—”
“I know.” She links her arm through yours. “And let’s be glad of it. I’ve had enough of males to last me a damn eternity.” She’s barely taken a few steps forward before she’s stopping and studying you again. “Roza tells me you’re having a hard time.”
Just like that, you feel yourself begin to crumble. There’s something about the concern of others that utterly obliterates the walls you try to craft around yourself.
And at the first glimpse of tears filling your eyes, Mor is tugging you along again.
“Come.” She says. “I know where the High Lord keeps his stash of booze.”
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“You don’t ever come to Windhaven anymore. Why is that?”
There’s the slightest tensing in the set of Mor’s shoulders as she returns the stopper to a decanter containing dark amber liquid. She turns, handing you a glass.
“I figured you knew.” She says. “My father is being strict about me not spending time there.”
On some level, you think you did know. It’s not hard to figure it out.
For a time, Mor was a pretty frequent member of your friendship group, visiting as often as she could — until a few years ago, when a fight broke out between Cassian and Rhys, and then Mor just stopped coming around. The matter was swept under the rug and not mentioned again. But with her father being so strict—
“Ah.” You murmur, the pieces clicking into place. “Cass, huh?”
Mor snorts softly. “Yes. Cass.” She shakes her head fondly. “Before you ask, no, I don’t have feelings for him. Not like that. It was just…a choice I made for myself. And I’ve never regretted it, even if my father is determined to make my life hell because of it. But I didn’t come here to talk about me.” Her eyes rake over you. “Tell me everything.”
So, you do. The words come spilling out of you in a flurry of shame and heartache. You tell her every damn detail and spare none. And when you’re finally done, you take a breath and wonder — not for the first time — how the fuck you’ve managed to create this situation for yourself.
Mor frowns at you. “I—” She seems genuinely speechless. “Cauldron, I thought my situation was complicated.”
You shake your head. “I’ve made such a mess of things, Mor.”
“Why haven’t you told Azriel how you feel?”
“I wanted to. Gods, I planned to. But I supposed walking in on him and Kaeda made me realise that there’s no point.”
“First of all, that’s bullshit.” She takes a seat opposite you. “Love is one of very few things that there is always a point to. Your self-loathing my try to convince you otherwise, but it’s always better to be honest and face whatever outcome than suffer in silence and wonder what would have been.”
You open your mouth, but she’s holding up a hand.
“Secondly, I don’t like the sound of this Kaeda one bit. I know almost nothing about Fenlaros, but what I do know is that she must have some sort of backing — not just that of her Camp Lord father — that gives her the ability to flounce in and out of a rival camp at her leisure without a single consequence. And that tells me she’s up to something. And that makes me nervous that it’s Azriel, of all people, that she’s attached herself to. Not that Az isn’t a total catch — of course, he is. But he’s also a very, very rare gift who always has sights set on him. I’d wager that that plays into Kaeda’s interest somewhere.”
You fall still in your seat, staring back at her.
You feel damn stupid for not seeing what she’s laid out before you with such clarity.
“You…don’t believe Kaeda’s interest in Az is genuine?” You ask. “I wondered why she was hanging around Windhaven, but I didn’t think…”
“I think she has ulterior motives.” Mor shrugs. “And if Az is in a blinding haze of lust — or even love — it’s not something he’s going to see for himself. He’ll need proof.”
“How could I possibly give him proof of something I’m not even certain about myself?”
“Perhaps you should play Kaeda at her own game. Do some sniffing around her and see what you find out. You’d only be looking out for Az, after all.”
Would you, though? You can’t deny that your feelings, your jealousy, would play a part. You should want, for Azriel’s sake, Kaeda to be genuine, whether your heart would get broken or not. But what you truly want is to show Az that—
That you’re better for him than she ever would be.
You want nothing more from or for him, than to make him happy.
You drag your lower lip between your teeth in thought. “What if it blew up in my face, though? I could just…end up making Az even more mad at me than he already is.”
“Which brings me to my third point. Why are you allowing Az to act like you’ve done anything wrong?”
“I slept with Cassian…”
“Welcome to the club. Tell me, Y/N. are you tied down to anyone?”
“Well, no—”
“Did you and Az agree to only have sexual relations with each other?”
“No—”
“Have you ever sworn off exploring such things with your other friends?”
“No, Mor.”
“Then Azriel has no right to be freezing you out the way he is. Is it messy? Yes. Have you created some tricky drama for yourself? Also yes. But he’s a damn hypocrite if he’s chastising you in one breath and jumping into bed with Kaeda in another.”
“That’s the thing, though.” Your gaze lowers to the table. “He says he hasn’t done anything with Kaeda, and I don’t think he would lie about that. I think…had I slept with anyone outside of our circle, perhaps he wouldn’t have cared. But it being Cassian is just…a bit too close to home for him. Especially given that Az and I were doing things, too.”
The gorgeous blonde rolls her eyes. “So, it’s an ego thing. Give me a break. If he didn’t want you to sleep with anybody else, he should have communicated that. You both should have communicated better.” A soft sigh leaves her. “Listen…Az will sulk for a little while, because that’s just what males do. He clearly has things he needs to work through, and when he has, you should talk. But in the meantime, perhaps you should try to find some more out about Kaeda and her intentions — for no other reason than that Azriel is your closest friend and you’re looking out for him. Perhaps being in Velaris is a blessing in disguise — I’m sure the High Lord could tell you a thing or two about the Fenlaros lot, if you ask nicely.”
So wise, so brilliant, is Mor. A female with such a good head on her shoulders, despite an environment that tries to wreck her.
She just…rationalises things, in a way that you’re not able to. And you hadn’t even considered talking to the High Lord.
You take a slow, pensive draw from your glass as you think on it. And then you’re deciding, “Perhaps I will speak with the High Lord. There’s nothing wrong with showing an interest in a rival camp, after all.”
“No.” Mor flashes a feral grin. “There is not.”
Perhaps it’s selfish, something felt at Azriel’s expense — but setting yourself a little task like this is precisely what you need.
You’ve wondered for a while what the hell Kaeda is doing in Windhaven. You’re determined to find out, one way or another.
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Rhysand is balls deep and utterly lost in the male beneath him.
The noises that fill the room are sinful.
Midnight-kissed moans and panting as breathy and ethereal as a winter-chilled breeze.
This has been a long time coming, and Rhys is just so glad, in that moment, that he finally gets to be inside Zakai, that he thrusts deep and captures him in a full kiss. Zakai growls and grabs his ass, encouraging those thrusts.
Honestly? Rhys fucking needs this pleasure. Never did he think he’d actually be glad to get away to his room at the dormitories, but he needs a godsdamned break. Cassian’s sulking at the cottage has become unbearable since Roza swept Y/N off to Velaris.
If Cass and Az don’t sort their shit out soon, Rhys might just launch them off the peak of the nearest mountain.
Of course, they’d probably fight each other suspended in thin air, instead.
But he banishes those thoughts and gives himself entirely to Zakai, reaching down to fist at the pretty male’s cock. Neither of them will last long. This sex has been too highly anticipated, and it feels too good, and—
And the door is practically kicked in behind them. Azriel strides in as if it’s his fucking room.
“Get out, Az.” Rhys snarls, not faltering.
Az does not, in fact, get out. “Is it true Roza has taken Y/N to Ve—”
“For fuck’s sake.” He pulls out of Zakai with complete reluctance, grabbing clothes to cover them both. Zakai exhales a long sigh and tips his head back.
“Well?” Az demands. “Is it true?”
Rhys yanks some undershorts on. “Three days ago. You’d have found out sooner if you’d just quit your sulking and talk to us.”
“Why has she gone there?”
Zakai clears his throat, awkwardly shucking his clothes on. “Perhaps I should go…”
“No.” Rhys says.
But Az counters it with a dismissive, “Yes.”
The poor male stares between the two of them, and while he may have just been lying beneath the future High Lord, he doesn’t feel like getting in the way of a temperamental shadowsinger.
Rhys releases a yielding breath and grits his teeth. “Fine. I’ll catch up with you later, Zak.”
That’s all it takes for his pretty lover to leave, sex now a distant memory. Azriel shuts the door behind him.
“So?” He rounds on Rhys. “Why is Y/N in Velaris?”
Rhys rolls his eyes at his tone. It’s not exactly any use for Az to be frantic now. Bit too late for that, he thinks.
“Because she needed a break from this place. From you and Cass and Kaeda.”
“I told Y/N that Kaeda and I have not done anything.”
“And maybe you haven’t, Azriel. That’s your business entirely.” He throws himself onto the bed. “But have you stopped for five fucking seconds, amidst your brooding and self-pitying, to consider how it might have made Y/N feel to be the practice run?”
Azriel goes preternaturally still. Doesn’t know what to say.
And that’s fine, Rhys reckons, because he’s nowhere near fucking finished.
“You explored that intimacy with her under the pretence that you were merely refining those skills for another female’s benefit.” He continues. “Whether it was initially Y/N’s idea or not, you should have recognised right away that she deserves better than that. And then you had the absolute fucking audacity to get mad at her for sleeping with Cassian, at the same time she would naturally assume you were sleeping with Kaeda, when you actually have no right to be angry. So what if she slept with Cass? So what, Azriel, that she fell into the arms of somebody who actually made her feel chosen, and not like she was just a stepping stone to a greater pleasure?”
Silence.
Stunned, heavy silence.
This room is far too small for such strong, impassioned words. They hang threateningly in the air, and Azriel feels like he’s watching them fly towards him in slow motion like poison arrows closing in on their target.
And then the shadowsinger croaks, finally, “It’s not—like that. I never wanted it to be like that.”
Rhys shrugs. “I’m not sure you even know what you intended, Az. The whole thing is one big mess. I mean…why haven’t you had sex with Kaeda, if that’s what you were practicing for? Do you even like her?”
Az says nothing.
The lack of an answer is precisely what Rhys is expecting. Even makes his lips kick up into a smile.
He thinks he’s pretty damn wise, does Rhysand.
“I’ll wager,” he goes on, eyeing Az knowingly, “that the practice wasn’t about Kaeda at all. Perhaps it was, the very first time Y/N offered.” He rests his hands behind his head. “But then something happened between the two of you — perhaps a kiss, maybe even some touching, and you were struck down by a realisation that the rest of us saw coming years ago. That what exists between you and Y/N goes beyond friendship. What you have is something special. And getting a little taster of that under the ruse of practice sent you on a downward spiral. So many emotions. So much angst. Suddenly, you were acting irrationally, getting into fights. Not over Kaeda, no, but over Y/N. Seeing her with other males makes you feel sick to your stomach. And that is why you’re so angry with Cassian. Because he had sex with Y/N, and you want her, not Kaeda. You love her.”
Well.
Azriel may as well be standing there stark naked, for all Rhys has stripped him bare.
He feels like his skin has been peeled from his bones and a patchwork of ugly truths lies in its place. He wouldn’t be overly surprised to glance down and see writing covering every inch of his body in bold, alarming ink that reads: I AM IN LOVE WITH Y/N. I AM JEALOUS AND ARROGANT AND SELFISH. I AM SCARED.
He tries to swallow down the lump in his throat. It doesn’t budge. “I never meant to make her feel like that.” He damn near wheezes, the words punching their way out of his lungs.
Rhys softens a little. “We know that, Az. But as long as you try to run from your feelings, you’ll be kicking dirt up at the people behind you.”
“I don’t…don’t know what to do — about anything.”
“You just need to stop trying to fool yourself. You need to make use of your space from Y/N and figure out what, exactly, it is you want, and what, exactly, you’re going to do about it. You need to accept that mistakes have been made all round, but not one of them is unable to be fixed. And you should start by mending things with Cassian.”
On instinct, Az scowls. He may know Rhys is right — and damn him for it, too — but he still can’t help being angry at Cass. The thought of his hands on Y/N—
“Wipe that look off your face, Azriel.” Rhys says drily. “You both know you miss each other, and you’re just as miserable as one another because of it. I’m not saying you should fix it today or even tomorrow — take your time to brood, if you like — but something has to give eventually. And if you won’t fix things for your sakes, do it for mine. Perhaps then I’ll be able to fuck Zakai and actually finish.”
This — these glimmers of wisdom and authority and reason — are like a little window into what Rhysand will one day be like as High Lord of the Night Court.
Azriel is glad of his friendship, his counsel. Even if he’s not quite ready to act on the advice yet.
“It’ll all be alright, Az.” Rhys says, studying him. The shadowsinger looks…lost. “But you should take the time to work things out before Y/N returns to Windhaven. She doesn’t need any more drama, and neither do you.”
Right again, of course.
Az can only manage to clear his throat and nod, before rasping out a quiet, “I will. Thank you.”
Rhys dips his chin. “I do love you, you know. I wouldn’t put sex aside for a conversation with just anyone.”
His answering smile is unconvincing. “I love you, too.”
“And you love Cass. So don’t wait too long to talk to him.”
Azriel inclines his chin. “Sorry for interrupting.”
“I’ll forgive you this time.”
The shadowsinger shoots him one last look that says far more than he can articulate in that moment. And then he’s slipping out of the room.
And as he walks away, he can’t stop his thoughts from venturing to Fenlaros.
To how lost he would be without Rhys — and Cass, too — if he really did leave them behind.
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Roza is so godsdamned beautiful.
You can’t help feeling a little awestruck as you stand behind her, gently combing a brush through her night-black hair.
She stares into the mirror of her dressing table, her face a sheet of serene beauty. Through her nightgown, the swell of her bump shows proudly.
She seems pensive tonight, quieter than usual. Every few seconds, your gaze creeps to her reflection. Curiosity gets the better of you.
“Can I ask you something?” You part the strands of her hair, beginning to tie them into a braid.
Roza’s eyes lift to yours. “Of course, my love.”
It takes you a long moment to work out how, exactly, to diplomatically word what you’re thinking. You imagine it might be a touchy subject.
“…You and the High Lord….” You chew the inside of your cheek. “You’re not…not quite what I expected — together, I mean.”
You’ve never seen a mating bond up close, but you’ve read about them enough to know that they should be intense, passionate, a love that is so altering that it’s almost gut-wrenching. You expected to catch a glimpse of that with Roza and Finadar, to see a bond that you may never have the honour of experiencing yourself, for how rare it supposedly is.
What you didn’t expect was the huge distance that exists between them. Not a single person could miss it.
There’s no desperation to see each other, be in one another’s company. They sleep in their own quarters of the house and only seem to come together for public appearances. The whole thing is…bizarre.
Roza smiles wryly at you in the mirror. “You mean, you didn’t expect the High Lord and I to be as separated as we are?”
“I just figured…with a mating bond…”
“A lot of weight is placed on a mating bond, little dove.” She swivels on the stool to face you properly. “I had the same thought as you, when I was younger. Fin and I tried to love one another, but…the fact of the matter is that mating bonds aren’t always right. He and I are so different, and sometimes that can be a beautiful thing. But in our case, it certainly is not.”
Your eyes fall down to her bump. “But the babe…”
“This babe was conceived on a heat-of-the-moment, impulsive whim that shouldn’t have happened. Not that I regret it.” Her hand strokes over her bump. “But sex and love are two very different things. Fin and I do not love each other. I’m only in Velaris because he only trusts his healer to see me through this pregnancy. We are mates in the loosest definition, but we are not committed to each other. And he has no problem reminding me of that, with all the females he invites to his bed as though I’m not in the same damn house as him. He’s an arrogant, salacious lech — but he’s also the father of my children, and my High Lord, too. So I choose not to confront it, because I don’t care enough to. The babe and I will be back in Windhaven soon enough.”
It makes your heart ache, makes you feel sick, to think that Roza is on the receiving end of such treatment. She deserves better. Deserves the world. Someone who will worship her like the goddess she damn well is.
It terrifies you to think that…that you could just as easily find yourself trapped in such a dire situation.
“What worries you?” Her violet eyes are soft, warm, as she reaches up and presses a hand to your cheek.
You place the hairbrush down, leaning against the dressing table. Your hand finds hers with a sad desperation. “Is love doomed, Roza? Is it real? If a mating bond can’t hold up, what hope do I have—”
“You have all the hope, dove. And as you should. You will love, and you will be loved. You just need to have the courage to face it and all that it comes with. Fin and I are a bad match. But there’s no reason to believe you’ll see the same fate. So just…don’t give up. Be brave and love.”
Tears blur your eyes as you stare down at her. You can’t stop yourself from moving your joined hands, both yours and hers, to rest on her bump. “This babe is the luckiest child in the entire world to have you for their mother.” You whisper. “And I will be honoured, Roza, to help you in any way I can when they’re born.”
She lifts your hand to her lips and presses a kiss to the back of your palm. “And I will be honoured to have you by my side.” She cracks a smile. “Perhaps you can start with making me some ginger tea before bed.”
A soft, breathy laugh leaves you. “Of course.”
Her beautiful smile follows you out of the room and into the dark, empty hallways. You feel strangely at peace tonight, more so than you have for a long while. Most likely thanks to Mor’s pep talk.
But after you’re done in the kitchen, a steaming cup of ginger tea clutched in your hands, a pair of booming male voices reach you from the antechamber. It piques your interest at once.
One voice is certainly that of the High Lord, but the other sounds somewhat familiar, too — like it’s one you’ve heard before, but not enough to place who it belongs to. It’s a dangerous, gruff baritone of a voice that seems almost impossibly deep.
You should mind your business, walk away…but it seems strange for the High Lord to receive a guest so late at night. Seems…clandestine, in nature.
And so you stay light on your feet, inching towards the door and peering through to the giant, opulent antechamber.
And that’s when you see the High Lord leading Tathaln Baralas, Kaeda’s father, in the direction of his study.
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Where The Shadows Dance - The Proposition (i)
Bodyguard!Azriel x AutumnDaughter!Reader
CHAPTER I: The Proposition
SUMMARY: Beron has invited the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court to spend a week in the Autumn Court. Azriel and the rest of the Court of Dream believe he has ulterior motives, and they are correct - but these motives come as a surprise.
WARNINGS: Um. Misogyny. love that for us (i hate the autumn court). swearing (the f-word (as in fuck)), y/n has daddy issues (bc beron is a cunt) and uh... i haven't read acotar in ages so apologies for any OC characteristics and forgetting everything about the autumn court. but i did read HOFAS recently so hopefully az isn't too out of character. also tw: beron
NOTE: so obviously Y/n is the daughter of the autumn court. we know they have red hair BUT i want this to be as less oc as possible so y/n has your colour hair and u can make up ur own story about why but mine is that she's 'rebellious' (as you'll see later on) and just dyes her hair. also special thank you to my moots @icey--stars and @fieldofdaisiies for proofreading my work! i love you guys<3
WORDS: 2.7K
Azriel glowered at the male sat across from him. Eris either didn't notice or pretended he didn't care as he reclined in his chair, one arm over the back and looking for all the world he was in his own home, rather than the Court Of Nightmares.
"Eris," Rhys drawled, "if you have any information to help us with this meeting with your father, we would appreciate it immensely."
The High Lord of the Autumn Court had invited the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court to his castle for a week, as a gesture of good will, and an attempt to strengthen their bonds. Of course, the court was suspicious of the intent behind such actions. Although Azriel had sent his contacts in to find any sliver of information, his spies had come back empty-handed.
Eris rolled his shoulders, seemingly at ease despite being surrounded by the Night Court's most deadly warriors. "I am not entirely sure what he wants, but I assume it has something to do with my sister, Y/n."
Y/n, the only daughter of the High Lord of Autumn. She was quite young, by Fae standards – only seventy-nine. She had not fought in the war against Hybern, and had very little training according to Azriel's knowledge.
"Why her?" Feyre asked carefully.
Azriel heard the shift in her tone. She was wondering, as they all were, what Beron intended to do with her. The Autumn Court was just as backwards as the Court Of Nightmares, and females were considered little more than property.
Eris simply shrugged, either not hearing the implications in the High Lady's tone, or simply not caring. "That is all I know, I'm afraid."
Cassian grunted, his eyes still on the heir to the Autumn throne. No one was particularly happy about the bargain they had struck with him, but he seemed to be a willing ally. For now.
"What can you tell us about her?" Feyre inquired.
Eris watched her for a moment, before responding, "She is… wild. Untamed, and unpredictable."
Despite his words, Azriel sensed a flicker of admiration in his tone. Azriel stored that piece of information away. It could be a weakness of Eris's, his sister. They may need to exploit it one day.
"Sounds like my kind of lady," Mor grinned.
The fact that Mor bothered speak in Eris's presence was a gift that the heir did not appreciate enough. Azriel glanced sidelong at her, noticing the way her unbound golden hair cascaded down her back, and the amount of skin her low-cut red dress revealed. Once, looking at her like that would have sent Azriel mad with longing. But after she had confided in him, after she had revealed she could never love him back because she preferred females… some part of him had been relieved to let her go.
Eris scoffed at Mor's comment. "Yes, well, she irritates my father to no end."
There was a silence, and Azriel wondered whether Y/n annoyed Eris as well, before Rhys sighed, "Well, if that's all, Eris, I'm sure you have places to be."
The dismissal was clear in the High Lord's tone, and Eris rose from his chair with a nod before leaving the council room. Everyone was silent as the male left, all eyeing each other. Feyre and Rhys were looking at each other, a clear indication of their telepathic conversation, and Azriel watched the two with a hint of jealousy. Of course he was happy from them – finding one's mate was one of the most fulfilling things one could experience. But he couldn't help but feel a sense of longing for his own. It seemed he was the last of the court to find his mate, and he had a fear that he would never find them.
"Has anyone heard much about this Princess?" Cassian asked, looking towards Azriel.
Azriel shook his head. "She is one of the most guarded individuals in Prythian. My sources struggle to even see her."
"Very guarded indeed," Rhysand murmured.
The Court of Dreams debated between themselves the possibilities of what the High Lord of Autumn could want regarding his daughter. Azriel had a few of his own suspicions – to have her taken away, or perhaps trained in combat – but none of them seemed accurate.
After a while of debating plausible explanations for Beron's offer, the court decided to head home to the City of Starlight in order to get a good night's rest before their meeting tomorrow. The High Lord and High Lady were going, as well as Cassian and Azriel. Morrigan was not permitted in the Autumn Court, so she would stay behind with Nesta to hold down the fort while they were gone. Amren would also be travelling to the Autumn Court, and although the monster she was no longer crawled beneath her skin, she made most people wary.
As he lay in his bed, Azriel couldn't help but wonder what awaited him tomorrow. He was curious about what the Autumn High Lord wanted, especially regarding his daughter, although he was also wary. Although Autumn had helped them in the war, they couldn't be trusted. Azriel fell into an uneasy sleep, cautious of the days to come.
Azriel awoke at dawn the next day. They weren't due in the Autumn Court until the evening, so Azriel decided to go through his morning exercises. The Valkyries weren't up yet, so he went through his warm ups, taking his shirt off halfway through. The morning was uneventful, and Azriel ran over the information they had in his head. Eris had suggested that Beron may be seeking a favour of some sort, so perhaps it had something to do with that.
The day passed by quickly, and soon enough, those travelling to the Autumn Court had gathered in the living room of the River House, just as they had planned. Azriel and Cassian wore their scaled, black armour, while Rhys and Feyre wore their finery. Rhysand held his mate's arm, and Azriel grabbed onto Cassian, before winnowing to the entrance of the Autumn Court castle.
It was big, and made of stone. It was quite majestic, if Azriel was being honest – high towers and red and orange flags waving in the wind, large windows showcasing rich carpets and tapestries inside.
Rhys led the way, Feyre on his arm and Cassian and Azriel following closely, and Amren trailing behind. Guards monitored them as they passed through the halls, their armour heavier the closer they got to the throne room. Azriel marked each one as they passed, something he was sure Cassian and Rhysand were also doing.
The doors to the throne room opened, and revealed the High Lord of the Autumn Court sat atop a dais, the Lady of Autumn seated beside him. Beron's sons stood on his left, and his daughter was seated to her mother's right.
Azriel paused at the sight of her. She was beautiful, even by Fae standards. Her h/c hair shone in the Fae light liming the walls, piled neatly on her head in a braid crown. Y/n’s e/c eyes sparked with mischief and curiosity, skimming over the members of Azriel's Court, until they finally landed on him. Her gaze was mesmerising, and Azriel couldn't find it in himself to break it. A small smirk played at the corners of her mouth, as if she were aware of the effect she had on him, although Azriel's mask of icy cold had not budged even an inch. Azriel quickly tore his eyes away from the Daughter of Autumn, marking the guards posted by the doors and the dais, and counting the weapons each of Beron's sons carried.
"Beron," Rhysand purred, ever the arrogant High Lord, the mask back up despite the High Lords' meeting all those months ago. "So lovely to see you again. Thank you for inviting us to stay."
Beron rose from his dias and stalked towards the High Lord of the Night Court. Everyone tensed as he stepped closer and closer, and Azriel subtly reached for the dagger at his side. Beron's blood would spray across the marble floors the second Azriel suspected he would harm his High Lord or Lady. But Beron simply held his hand out, and Rhys gripped it tightly, his eyes holding a small amount of surprise.
"Rhysand. A pleasure to have you here," Beron replied. Azriel didn't miss the slight strain in his voice. "You must be hungry. Shall we?"
Beron inclined his head to the dining room and led the way with Rhysand and Feyre at his side. He hadn't even acknowledged the High Lady, something that made Azriel want to rip the male’s head off, but Rhys got there first.
“And what about my High Lady?” Rhys purred, a dangerous edge to his voice.
Beron’s smile faltered slightly, and he glanced at Feyre with a barely concealed look of distaste, as if he would rather rip off his own toenails than address a female with the same amount of respect that he would expect. Azriel felt a protective anger surge through him, and he watched carefully, curious as to what the High Lord’s next move would be.
“Of course,” Beron said, his voice dripping with fake courtesy. “My apologies, Lady Feyre. Of course it is wonderful to have you both visit.”
Cassian gave Azriel a look that said, And-what-about-us? Aren't-we-wonderful?
Azriel sent him a look back that said, Shut-the-fuck-up.
Beron led them all to the dining room, the Autumn colours present everywhere they looked. The chairs were all high-backed, and Azriel knew that Beron did not care if he and Cassian would be comfortable with their wings. Everyone took their seats — Beron at the head, Rhysand to his left, and Feyre beside him. Azriel sat next to his High Lady, Cassian taking his seat adjacent to the shadowsinger. The Lady of Autumn (still not a High Lady, despite the fact that Viviane was also now a High Lady) sat to Beron’s right, Eris beside her, and Y/n next to him, and across from Azriel. Azriel felt Y/n’s eyes on him, and he met her gaze. There was a curious look in her eyes, a look of anticipation mixed with mischief.
Dinner was served, an array of meats and vegetables placed on the table by servants, mostly lesser fairies. None of them looked Azriel in the eye, and he wondered if it was because they knew who and what he was, or if they’d been trained not to. Y/n, however, had no such qualms about this, and stared at the shadowsinger unabashedly.
Beron struck up a conversation with Rhys — small talk, something that Azriel internally cringed at, because it was definitely just to fill the silence. Ever the gracious guest, Rhysand responded in kind, although Azriel knew he was wondering what Beron’s ulterior motives were.
“How do your siphons work?”
The table went silent as Y/n spoke, her cunning eyes trained on Azriel. Beron looked at his daughter with a hint of irritation gleaming in his eyes, as if it was unacceptable for her to speak without permission. Azriel glanced at Rhysand, who was watching the daughter of Autumn with a hint of suspicion in his eyes.
“How do you know that is what they are called?” Rhys asked, his eyes trained on the only daughter of Autumn.
She shrugged, and answered, “I read a lot in my spare time. I remember reading about the Illyrians, and their siphons. If I remember correctly, Illyrians tend to possess only one, yet the two of you hold several.”
“There is no need to question our guests, Y/n,” Beron scolded firmly.
Y/n frowned. “I was simply curious.”
“Do not speak back to me,” Beron reprimanded, a burning fury now evident in his eyes.
Y/n slumped back into her chair slightly and bowed her head. “My apologies, Father.”
Beron didn’t even acknowledge his daughter before he turned back to Rhys, as if her mere existence didn’t deserve another moment of his time. Azriel watched the female in front of him as she stared at her plate, and felt a sense of sympathy for her. Azriel owed her nothing — he did not know the female in front of him, did not know if she even deserved his sympathy — and yet he felt the need to protect, to wipe that blank expression off of her face.
“Our siphons act as a conduit for our raw power,” Azriel offered, causing Y/n to look up. Beron paused, glancing at the shadowsinger and the Autumn daughter, and Azriel continued, “It helps to control our magic, to make it precise and nimble, rather than a messy outburst of power.”
Cassian gaped at his brother, as if he had never heard that many words come out of Azriel’s mouth in one sitting. While that was an inaccurate statement, it was true that Azriel never tended to speak in front of new people. He wasn’t sure why he had done so anyway. But Y/n bowed her head in thanks at the information, perhaps still wary of answering and speaking without her father’s permission, but Azriel had observed a small, triumphant light in the female’s eyes at his reply.
Azriel watched as that gleam faded when Beron cleared his throat, gaining the attention from everyone in the room.
“There is a reason why I have asked you here,” Beron stated.
“Surprise, surprise,” Cassian muttered, and Azriel elbowed him.
Beron glanced at Cassian for all of a second before continuing, “There has been an attempt on my daughter’s life.” Stunned silence met Beron’s words, and Azriel caught Y/n rolling her eyes. That raised his suspicion — were Beron’s words false, or did she simply believe it was not an issue? “If it appeals to you,” Beron went on, “I seek to employ one of your Night Court warriors as her personal bodyguard.”
Rhys blinked once, his only sign of surprise. Beron looked at Rhys expectantly, and Azriel could have guessed the thoughts that flew around Rhys’s head.
“Why one of my warriors?” Rhys inquired carefully.
“I hoped it might help strengthen bonds between our courts,” Beron expressed.
Azriel watched the High Lord of the Autumn Court carefully. There seemed to be no ulterior motives hidden within his demeanour — he did not shift nervously, none of his facial features even so much as twitched.
“And say I agree to this,” Rhys said casually, “how long would you hold onto one of my warriors?”
“Until the threat against my daughter’s life is eliminated,” Beron answered.
There was silence for a few moments while everyone processed what was happening. Azriel looked at Eris to see the male’s eyes on his father. They were carefully guarded, a mask in place to ensure no one was able to discern what he was thinking. Azriel turned his gaze to Y/n, and a shadow slithered up by his ear.
She does not believe it to be such a serious matter, the shadow whispered. She wishes for this dinner to be over so she may go back to her quarters and finish her novel.
Azriel blinked in surprise at the information from his shadow. Usually, his shadows would tell him what others could not see and hear — but this felt almost like too much. Yes, his shadows had a tendency to recognise when someone was lying, or what weapons they were concealing, but to give him a person’s unvoiced opinion on a matter was something new.
But indeed, with her chin propped up on her delicate hand, and twirling her dessert fork in the other, she appeared to be completely disinterested. Azriel turned his gaze back to the male beside her, to see Eris already watching his sister. His eyes were cold and calculating as he regarded her, as if he was mentally playing out how this ‘bodyguard’ situation would go. With the slight frown tugging the corners of his lips downwards, Azriel assumed Eris did not believe it would end well.
“Please, do take time to come to a decision,” Beron offered. “I do understand this is a lot to ask.”
“We shall have an answer by the end of the week,” Rhys said with a nod.
Beron nodded back, and Azriel wondered what they were getting themselves into.
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