#acotar headcanon
Note
As a slut for angst today “tolerate it” has been stuck on a loop and now I am imaging an angsty fic where Az just slowly begins to forget about reader and she threatens to leave but he doesn’t take her seriously and is so utterly destroyed when he comes back home and she’s gone…
Like I feel like it’s on brand with him and his duty to his job and whatnot. Plus the lyrics are so him coded “while you were out building worlds where was I” / “took this dagger in me and removed it” LIKE HELLO???
(But I also love a good happy ending so I feel like if azzy groveled hard enough… 👀)
Tolerate it.
Summary: She is fed up.
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A/n: ehehehehehe angsttttt yummy yummyyyy
Enjoy!
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Y/n laughed at Feyre's pathetic attempts at skipping the large puddle on the ground accumulated due to the rains that had Velaris freezing overnight.
Feyre failed miserably, her boots and leggings getting wet from the splash that signalled her downfall against the watery enemy of hers. But Feyre was not fazed. She simply laughed alongside Y/n, her eyes crinkling as the two of them made their way back to the river house.
It was visible already now, Y/n could even make out the grains in the wood of the door as it opened, and her brother in laws, along with her mate, spilled out.
Y/n could see from the corner of her eyes as her sister lit up at seeing her mate, her husband and the father of her child. The moment his eyes met her, she took off, her arms spread as she ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck. Rhysand did not hold back either, clutching Feyre to her chest with as much enthusiasm as she held him.
It made Y/n smile.
Y/n then glanced behind the embracing couple to her mate, the overwhelming urge to hug him too and to claim him in front of anyone watching making her start walking towards him without even realising.
Which was reckless, as the moment he realised she was walking towards him to hug him? He took a step back.
Y/n knew that he hated being affectionate in front of others, but this was cruel.
So to not get embarrassed by his rejection, Y/n turned swiftly towards Cassian, her other brother in law, who stood not too far from where Azriel did, and hugged him instead.
Cassian, Mother bless his heart, did not even question it.
He wrapped his arms around Y/n and literally lifted her off the ground, cackling when Y/n's fist made contact with his shoulder over and over again as she demanded to be put down.
Y/n had to stop herself from thinking back to that day. She did not want to relive the pain she had felt, the sadness and anger.
Y/n watched his eyes fluttering, wondering if he was dreaming. Wondering who he was dreaming about.
It definitely was not her, that was for sure.
Y/n, feeing a little sadness taking root in her heart, returned to the portrait in her hands, questioning if it would even be worth it finishing it up when he sure as hell wouldn't even acknowledge it. Or her.
Y/n glanced at the paint supplies she had placed on the coffee table next to her, having wanted to capture a moment of him letting his guard down, of him being vulnerable using her best paints, knowing he would not care.
She guessed living for as long as he had, life and the small things didn't matter as much anymore. Maybe that was why he loved to go on the missions Rhysand, Y/n's brother in law, gave him.
It probably gave him the thrill nothing else did anymore.
With Y/n's sister just having given birth to the starlight of the court, Rhys had become more and more protective, sending his brothers and anyone and everyone at his disposal to check and report about every trivial thing that made his primal mate and father side get protective.
Slowly, Y/n reached for the brush that rested in the cup half filled with coloured water, deciding to finish the half done portrait. If he did not care... she did not now what she would do then, but she did know she was tired of being tolerated by him.
But what could she even do? It was not like she could just up and leave.
Y/n blinked.
Or... could she?
Y/n shook her head, as if to dislodge the though, and with a sigh, she let herself get lost in the soft skill of painting her sister had taught her long ago, when staying up and huddling under worn blankets was the only thing bringing any warmth.
Trying not to think about the fact that the last time she remembered him caring for her, genuinely caring for her, was only when the two had been in their early stages of relation ship and the mating bond was a very new experience to a newly made fae Y/n, she continued using the soft and strong, long and short strokes to finish up her latest masterpiece.
Of course, Y/n never would call herself a creator of masterpieces, but any and all art that included her perfect mate was destined to be a masterpiece.
Time lost its meaning, and all that mattered was capturing the perfect angle for his eyes, nose, lips, shoulder.
Nothing existed but Y/n, her art, and her muse.
Nothing existed but the soft rise and fall of his back as he lay sprawled on his stomach, the effortless way his wings draped across the whole bed, taking up space three wingless fae could have slept in.
Where Y/n would have slept in, on days when everything had been filled with stars and dreams, wrapped under his warm wing like it were a living blanket.
When he pretended he was nothing, absolutely nothing but her mate. Her husband. Not a spymaster, not a shadowsinger, not a brother. Just her mate, her lover.
Those days were far gone now.
•○🌑○•
Despite the fact that she knew he would most definitely not care, Y/n was excited.
And that was downplaying what she felt.
The wait was killing her, the amount of adrenaline in her bloodstream making her want to jump around to get rid of the energy that made her shiver, her limbs going cold and warm at the same time. She had to push her fists together and shove them between her thighs to keep them from shaking, which did not help at all.
So Y/n waited, her body clenched in anticipation as she stared at the doorway that led into the living room, a big grin on her face.
She glanced once at the sketchpad in front of her on the table, admiring her artwork for a moment.
She never liked whatever she made, always feeling like it lacked something. So for her to be excited to show off her art to her mate was a huge indication to how much she loved the portrait.
The familiar scuff of worn boots drew Y/n's attention, and she shot to her feet, pressing her fists to the back of her thighs.
It had become a habit of Azriel's, to purposefully make some noise before he stepped in view so as not to startle her with his appearance.
The action melted Y/n's heart every single time.
He stepped into view, as ethereal as the day Y/n had first seen him as a human, just as beautiful as he had looked that day as he tried to get comfortable on the small chair in the manor on the other side of the wall, just as loveable as that day when she had ended up losing her heart to the low born fae that should have intimated her.
He was fumbling with his armor, making sure it was all secured properly before he left for whatever mission Rhys assigned him for that day.
He glanced up just as he walked past Y/n to the kitchen counter, a small smile gracing his face before his attention was again diverted.
Y/n tried not to deflate at his lack of enthusiasm.
"Good morning love. Look-"
"Good morning Y/n." He cut her off, his voice void of emotions, as if he was tired of saying the same thing every morning and wanted to get it over with. He didn't even glance at Y/n as he said it, and Y/n pretended not to notice that he used her name instead of whatever endearing name he would have picked before.
"I will be on a scouting trip to Illyria, and after I have a meeting and dinner scheduled with Rhys and Cass, so I will be late coming home. Don't wait up."
Y/n's smile faded. "Don't wait up or stay out of my way?"
Azriel froze. "What?"
Y/n released a humourless laugh. "Nothing. Go have fun."
Azriel turned, giving her a hard look. "You know I would rather stay at home with you."
Doubtful.
Y/n so badly wanted to say it to his face, but she did not want to fight with him so early in the morning, so she sighed, smiled and nodded.
He started walking towards the door, and despite her anger, Y/n walked forward to kiss his cheek.
She did not miss how he recoiled.
Y/n masked the hurt before he could see it, and he gave her an awkward smile before he maneuvered to walk around her, careful not to brush against her.
Y/n watched him walk away, staring hard at the door even long after he'd left.
She then glanced at the portrait she had abandoned on the table, and, her heart hardening, turned away.
She was tired of having her love be tolerated, and she would not have it be that way anymore.
Either he accept her love the way it was, loud and clear, or he go find someone else.
And so, she turned, walked up the stairs to the bedchambers she shared with Azriel, and began to turn it back into just his bedchambers.
She would no longer be tolerated only because some godly entity thought she and him would make great, powerful kids and tied them together with a string.
She deserved to be cherished.
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Part 2
Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @eve175
Azriel Taglist: @darthdumbasss @foreverrandomwritings @azrielsmate3 @celestialend
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Practice On Me — Part Seven — Azriel x Reader
Note: I hope you enjoy this part because I’m not overly happy with how it’s written, I don’t know why 😭probably just me being a DUMBASS. Also, it’s still not letting me tag some of you 😩anyone know why?
Summary: The Bat Boys are worried about reader. Cassian’s getting a little suspicious of Kaeda. Azriel is really, really missing his friend.
Word count: 7k.
Warnings: Some injury detail.
“He cannot do this. Surely, he cannot fucking do this.”
Azriel slams his fist on the table so hard that ale sloshes over the lip of a mug. The atmosphere in the mead hall is unusually calm tonight. There’s more laughter than arguing, and some dickhead with a lute is even providing the attendants with music. But at the centre table, a cloud of doom darkens the mood.
Everyone has wisely given Rhys, Cassian and Azriel a wide berth.
Tensions are high. Something’s got to give.
“His role in this camp is to oversee our training.” Az balls his fists. “Not to get involved with how we spend our time outside of it.” He eyes Cass and Rhys opposite him. “Right?”
“Technically, yes.” Rhys confirms. “But as the overseer of said training, he also has the authority to remove any distractions as he sees fit.”
“Distractions? She’s our friend, not a fucking toy—”
“I’m just putting it to you straight, Az. It’s the typical Illyrian attitude rearing its ugly head. All four of us made the decision to go to Fenlaros, and yet it’s the female who shoulders the blame.”
“It’s fucking ridiculous.” Cassian finally speaks up.
He hasn’t said much. Too busy thinking about last night.
Nobody knows a thing about that wild, impulsive fuck except him and Y/N. He plans to keep it that way. Not out of any sense of regret, but…he doesn’t know. His brain is ticking over.
He can’t help wondering something that’s never occurred to him before.
Is Y/N branded a certain way by Illyrian ideologies because the closest people to her are males? Has she unfairly gained a reputation — one that would be made worse if what she and Cassian had done became common knowledge?
He doesn’t want to be the reason she gets more shit thrown her way. He’s starting to think he should think harder before he acts. Maybe last night was a mistake. He can’t even see Y/N to talk it through with her.
“So what do we do?” Az is asking as Cass zones back in. “There’s got to be something. Do we take the matter to your father?”
Rhys cocks an eyebrow. “Be real for a second, Az. My father would laugh us out of Velaris. He doesn’t concern himself with trivial camp matters.”
“Y/N having to choose between an abusive household or perishing in the snow is not a trivial matter.”
“To him, it is. He’d tell Devlon to lead and do what he believes is right. Which, he already has, even if we don’t agree with it.”
“Well that’s bullshit. We can’t just lie down and do nothing—”
“I’m not saying that, Az—”
“What about your mother? She adores Y/N. Surely she could appeal to your father—”
“No. She’s pregnant. She stays out of this.”
“Then what do you suggest, Rhysand?”
“How about you start by explaining to Cass and I what’s gotten into you recently?”
Finally, Az has nothing to say. He goes silent. Still.
He stares back at his two friends like he can’t imagine why they would wonder such a thing.
And then he purses his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Cassian scoffs. “Please. Even I think you starting fights left and right has been extreme.”
“Fuck you. You’re totally exaggerating.”
Rhysand raises an eyebrow. “If you say so.”
“I do.”
“We’re just worried that your behaviour has changed since Kaeda came into the picture—”
“You know what I’m worried about?” Az snaps. “Our friend who is literally homeless as of this morning. That’s a little more important, don’t you think?”
Yes…and no. It’s not that Cassian and Rhys don’t agree. It’s just that…that all roads lead back to Kaeda. And that’s becoming a problem.
“We’re not just going to leave Y/N to deal with this alone, Az.” Rhys tells him. “We just need to be careful about how we deal with it. Devlon isn’t messing around. I don’t want us to cause her more trouble.”
As folds his arms. “So what do you suggest?”
“I’ll talk to Y/N’s friend — Vegha. I’m sure she can open her home to Y/N while we figure things out. Just don’t do anything impulsive or stupid.”
That seems to appease Az a little. He sits back in his chair — allows himself to be a bit more open.
Until Cass totally fucking ruins it and says, “And don’t go starting any more fights just to impress Kaeda.”
Az says again, “Fuck you.”
Cass returns a withering look. “Fuck you right back.”
“Productive.” Rhys comments, shaking his head. He pushes to his feet, and both his friends look round.
“Where are you going?” Az asks.
“To speak with Vegha.” Rhys tells him. “And don’t follow me. You two idiots will only make things worse.”
He has no idea how right he is.
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It starts with the fire going out. Always.
The door swings open hard enough to hit the wall, and freezing air envelops the place. Your father tracks snow into the house, and he smells so strongly of booze that it permeates the room and spreads like a sickness.
You are five years old. You like to draw things in the soot that coats the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. The house always feels untidy since mama stole away in the dead of night a year ago. You try to keep on top of the cleaning, but the damp and the cold makes your hands sore, your bones ache.
Every night, you sit with your hands in your lap and wait for your father to return home. If he’s coming back from the forge, he’s tired and in a bad mood. If he’s coming back from the mead hall or a tavern, he’s drunk and in a really bad mood.
Tonight is the latter. But not only is he drunk and in a bad mood — he’s also brought company.
Four other males. They’re all huge — too huge to fit into the house, you think. If they’ve come for food, there isn’t any. If they’ve come for comfort, there isn’t any of that, either.
But they’re looking at you, all four of them. And in some way, you know that it’s you they’ve come for.
“This is the one?” A male with reddish-brown hair asks.
“I have only one.” Your father answers, and he jerks a chin in your direction. “That is it.”
It.
“Scrawny. There’s barely anything of her.” A second male comments. “This won’t be difficult.”
“I always think that,” reddish-brown answers, “and then they start fighting back. Kicking and scratching.”
You may only be five, but you are not foolish. Something is very, very wrong. A sinister wave has swept your already-miserable home, and you are about to be swallowed up in it. You eye the four males with wide eyes and scoot back a little.
Reddish-brown is the leader. He folds his arms with an authoritative air and announces, “Pathorn and Yevmael can hold her down,” he turns to the second male, “you take one wing, and I’ll take the other.”
The male that steps towards you from the back has eyes as black as the soot in the hearth. His lips twitch up on one side, and he says, “Come here, then, little pup.”
You do not move.
“Come.” He repeats. “It won’t hurt…much.”
They laugh at that.
You tuck your dirty, bruised knees tightly into your chest and rest your chin atop of them. You say nothing, make no move.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” His friend at the back says, stalking over to you. “Just pick her up.”
He does exactly that — by the scruff of your neck. You yelp as he yanks you into the air, and on instinct, your arms are flailing, legs kicking, tiny wings flaring.
“Look at that.” Charcoal eyes sneers at those very wings. “It’s a fucking abomination.”
If this is a game, you don’t like it. You twist in the male’s grasp, try to wriggle free, and he growls a curse at you. You growl back — a fierce, fierce noise, you think. It makes the males laugh again.
“On the table.” Reddish-brown says. “Face-down.”
“Papa,” you fight, “papa, papa, papa.”
There comes no response. It’s then that you realise he’s removed himself from the room. Left you with these monsters.
“Quiet now, pup.” Charcoal eyes says. “This won’t take long.”
You want to scratch him, and you try, even though your nails are chewed and bitten, despite mama always telling you not to do that. But mama isn’t here now and neither is papa. It’s just strangers with angry faces. Strangers who want to hurt you.
You’re slammed down onto the table, and you let out a cry. Someone holds your legs down. Another person holds your arms.
You are five years old. You like to draw pictures in the soot that covers the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. You are utterly and totally alone.
“I hope you never thought about flying.” Reddish-brown steps up to you. “That day will never come.”
And then they begin hacking at your wings.
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Your father takes you to a healer only when it’s almost too late. A fever scorches you head to toe. You think that mama returns to sit by your bedside, but that isn’t real. It’s a dream.
You’re too weak. You sleep fitfully on your front, because trembles wrack your body that continuously wake you up. You jerk every time the pain at your back gets too much.
The door opens, and you wonder if mama is returning again. You like that dream. But it’s your father, accompanied by the male who has been leaning over your weakened body for days.
“Will she live?” Your father asks.
“She will.” The healer tells him. “If she can fight off the infection.”
“Can’t you just give her a tonic, or something?”
“This is the worst wing clipping I have ever seen. There are ample healers in Illyria who are qualified to carry out the practice. What possessed you to instead leave her in the hands of a group of soldiers?”
“I will do with my child as I see fit.”
“You may no longer have a child, if she cannot fight this. Her life hangs in the balance.”
Your father makes a noise that sounds like a growl. He does that when you’re in his way, and he just wants to sit quietly without you lingering around him. “Give her a fucking tonic—”
“If she survives this,” the healer tells him, “she will be scarred and in pain for the rest of her life. You did not merely clip her wings. You butchered them. This is precisely why a healer should be the one to perform the procedure—”
Your body jerks with a fresh wave of pain, and you whimper. Both your father and the healer look over at you.
Your father’s lip curls, and he turns to the male once more. “Fix her.” He commands. “Because if you can’t, you’re helping me bury the body.”
No. The males will come back and put their hands on you again. They’ll bury a body. They’ll bury your body. They’re going to bury you. Soil will fall on your ruined wings, and when mama truly does come back, she’ll have only an unmarked grave to greet you at.
You try to move, but you’re strapped down. You whimper again.
Bury the body.
Bury the body.
Bury the—
Your body lurches up.
Sweat slicks your skin. You press a hand to your forehead, but it’s cool, not burdened by fever. You’ve awoken like this every morning for the past week.
The dreams are burdening you a lot right now. The memories.
They remind you, at least, why you will not return to your father’s home. Even if you end up hunching yourself up in doorways and exhausting any other dire options.
You hear a noise from the doorway, and you rub the bleariness from your eyes. Illuminated by the dim light in the hall, a male leans against the doorframe. He watches you nonchalantly, biting into an apple. Green, not red.
“You were shouting in your sleep again.”
You heave a deep, slow sigh and rake your fingers through your hair. Sweat soaks the strands.
“You dream often about burying bodies, don’t you?” The male steps into the room. He flares his wings, and you try not to look at them. “You’re quite odd. I think I like it.”
“Get out, Markis.” You sigh again. “Stop watching me sleep. It’s strange.”
“Is it more or less strange than chanting about burying a body?” He smirks. “And you’re in my house, remember? You can’t tell me to get out.”
“Yeah, well, it’s my house, too, and I can.” Suddenly, Vegha is appearing. She swats her younger brother, and a slither of relief settles into you. “Stop bugging her, Markis. Go to the training rings, or something.”
Markis so clearly doesn’t want to leave. He eyes you, his gaze falling from your neck, down to the old, threadbare sweater that you’ve been sleeping in. It’s Azriel’s — still smells like him.
The intensity of the male’s gaze is uncomfortable. And after a week of tolerating it, you’re not sure you can any longer.
“Fine.” He swallows down a bite of apple. He sends you a leering smirk. “I’ll tell your friends you said hello.”
Vegha rolls her eyes. “Markis, just leave before I boil your entire head—
“I’m going, I’m going.”
The male strides out of the room, shooting you one last look over his shoulder. You should ignore it, because the idiot is just basking in the novelty of having a female under his roof that he’s not related to, but the discomfort has sunk itself under your skin, and you’re not sure you can live with it.
Which is a bit of a problem, considering there are no other avenues for you to explore, and have nowhere else to go.
Vegha shuts the door behind her brother and turns to you. “You slept fitfully again.”
“Yes.” You feel a little bad admitting it. It’s not her, nor her family home, nor the bed that’s the problem. It’s you. All you. “I have a lot on my mind.”
“Of course, you do. I wish there was more I could do to help.”
“You’ve done more than enough, Vegha.”
She doesn’t look convinced. The worried streak in her eyes is an indicator of how terrible you look. And you know she’s just caring for you as your friend, but you can’t stand it. One more pitying glance may push you over the edge.
“I have to get to the crèche.” She tells you. “Can I get you anything before I leave?”
“No—thank you.” You sit up. “Listen…I won’t be here when you return home. I’m getting out of your hair today.”
She pauses. Studies you. “You’re not in my hair. You’re welcome to stay for as long as you need. Ignore Markis — he’s a cock.”
You breathe a soft laugh. But you can’t ignore Markis — not any longer. Just as you haven’t been able to ignore any of the males who have made the past week even more difficult than it already was.
Illyrian males are…are a sickness. They’re bred in violence and depravity. So few of them are good.
And if the past week without Azriel, Rhys and Cassian has taught you anything, it’s that to some degree, your exposure to such behaviours has always been muted, thanks to their protection. They’ve been a strong unit around you since you were eleven years old. Most males have been wise enough to steer clear and escape the wrath that would come down on them for messing with you.
But now you’re forbidden from seeing them, and you’re free game for any fucking male in this gods-forsaken place.
You need to be away from them. To be on your own.
“I know.” You answer Vegha. “And I appreciate you opening your home to me, I really do. But it’s fine — I’ve made other arrangements.”
The look she gives you is dubious. She doesn’t believe you, and rightfully so — it’s total bullshit. “You have?”
“I have.” You dip your chin. “I’ll be just fine.”
“…well I’m glad to hear it. You’ll come right back here if those plans fall through, right?”
“Of course I will.” No.
She hesitates at the door. She’s been nothing but kind and accommodating to you — a real friend.
But it’s bad enough not being able to escape the males that haunt your dreams. There’s a damn good reason for you staunchly refusing to return to your father. You will not swap one monster for another.
“I’ll see you soon, then.” Vegha studies you. There’s a sadness in her brown eyes. She genuinely cares. “Take care, Y/N.”
“I will.” You force a breezing smile. “And you, also.”
She inclines her head, and then she’s slipping out of the room. The silence only gives way for your too-near dreams to dig their claws in. You scrub your hands harshly over your face and push to your feet.
You don’t know where you’ll go. It’s tempting to ignore Lord Devlon’s warning and race back to the cottage. Drama may await you there — a total mess that you somewhat made for yourself — but at least you’d be warm and safe while facing it.
You can’t — you know you can’t. You don’t want Az or Cass or Rhys to face any consequences.
So after you get yourself ready and gather what little stuff you have, you head out into the snow and hope you won’t be sleeping in it that night.
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Azriel strikes at the sparring dummy as if it fucked his wife and stole his seat at the dinner table.
The damn things are supposed to be bolted to the ground, but a couple of bolts are no match against the fearsome shadowsinger.
He strikes and strikes until the object is more or less obliterated, because fuck the sparring dummy, that’s why. Fuck the sparring dummy, and fuck Lord Devlon, and fuck—
“I think you made your point.” A trilling voice cuts through his red mist of rage. “How about you set the sword down and have some water?”
Perhaps it’s just Azriel’s anger thinking for him, but he doesn’t feel that Kaeda has been particularly helpful from where she’s perched atop a smooth rock. She cleans her nails with the tip of a dagger and stretches her wings out around her.
Across the ring, Cassian watches and turns to Rhysand. “Why is she allowed to be here, but Y/N isn’t?”
Rhys shrugs his tense shoulders. He doesn’t know the answer.
The two of them step closer to where their brother is trying to breathe through his fury. He’s not coping so well.
See, Azriel has experience with missing things. He misses his mother all the time. Sometimes it’s a dull ache, manageable amongst the mundane comings and goings of life. Other times, it hurts so bad that he doesn’t think clawing his chest open would be too extreme a reaction. Missing a person is a sensation that knits itself under his skin and seeps into the marrow of his bones. It’s relentless and hideous.
Missing Y/N is a new kind of torture he never contemplated having to face.
It’s not just that he’s worried about where she is, whether or not she’s safe and well. It’s that he misses the silliest, tiniest things about her that he didn’t even know he’d ever noticed in the first damn place. The rapt determination with which she cuts the crusts off her bread because that’s a little too much bread for her. The way she gestures wildly with her hands whilst passionately talking about things. That ruined, tattered journal she carries around in which she scrawls blunt, one-sentenced, sometimes unintelligible thoughts. And her scent — gods, her scent.
It has been one week — an amount of time he’s spent away from her before. But it’s different this time. This isn’t like being away on a training exercise and knowing he’ll soon be coming home. He knows nothing. Doesn’t even know what to think, what to feel.
Other than an overt urge to murder the camp lord. Violently.
“How about we get done here and head to the mead hall?” Kaeda breaks through his warring thoughts. “I’m starved.”
Az grabs a nearby rag, wiping the sweat from his face. “Not really hungry.”
There’s a pause. And then a soft sigh leaves the female. She sheathes her blade and pushes to her feet, just as Rhys and Cassian are approaching. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, Azriel, but you can’t be visiting my father with this attitude.”
At once, this grabs the other two males’ interests, and Azriel wants to groan. Right. He’d forgotten about that.
“What’s this?” Rhys frowns, staring between Az and Kaeda. “You’re returning to Fenlaros?”
“My father invited Azriel to dine with us, that’s all.” Kaeda answers for him.
It had genuinely slipped Azriel’s mind. Amongst everything else waging war in his thoughts, a dinner with Kaeda’s family in Fenlaros had sunk right to the bottom.
But he knows immediately how it looks. That he’s being secretive.
Rhys studies Azriel closely. “And you’ve cleared this with Devlon?”
No, no he hadn’t. Quite simply, he’s not sure he can be within twenty feet of the bastard, right now, without throttling him.
He hates himself for it — he really, truly does. But for the sake of sparing himself a lecture, he shrugs. “I have.”
He does not lie to his brothers. And they can smell that lie on him right away.
Cassian stares at Kaeda for a long moment, before turning towards Az. “That is a fucking terrible idea, and you know it.”
“It’s dinner.” Kaeda shoots back.
Cass grits his teeth. “I’m talking to Azriel.”
“Listen, Cassian—”
“Excuse me—I’m sorry to interrupt.”
All four of them turn in the direction of the intrusion —and they stop short.
All three of the males know Vegha, of course. Rhys was grateful that she’d so willingly opened her home to Y/N when he’d asked. But other than that, they’ve only spoken to her in passing — she’s never had reason to seek them out before.
But what adds a slither of urgency to her rare appearance at the training rings is the even rarer appearance of the two little girls who hold her hands. They’re not supposed to be here, and Vegha knows this well.
She obviously deemed whatever this is urgent enough to bypass that rule.
“Vegha.” Azriel steps forward, studying her closely. “Is all well?”
Vegha shifts on her feet, clutching tighter onto the girls’ hands. She’s never comfortable here, around all these males, but it’s a different unwanted attention that makes her want to turn and leave.
Kaeda eyes her head to toe with a look of distaste. Of mistrust. She folds her arms and flares her wings — a gesture that has the little girls gasping.
“Settle down.” Vegha squeezes their hands. She directs her attention back to the males. Strange, that she feels more comfortable with them than she does with the only other female present. “Honestly, Azriel, I’m not at all sure.”
Rhys steps forward. “Is it Y/N?”
Cassian swears — swears — that a small sigh comes from behind him. From Kaeda.
“I know you’ve been instructed to stay away, and I don’t wish to cause you any trouble.” Vegha tells them. “It’s just…well, she was staying at my home this past week, as you asked, Rhysand. I told her she was welcome for as long as she needs — that she mustn’t return to her father’s house. But just this morning, she suddenly announced that she was leaving…that she’d found somewhere else to stay.”
“And?” The word slips from Kaeda’s lips.
Yeah, Cass definitely isn’t in the mood for this today.
“And…and I’m not sure I believe her.” Vegha shrugs slowly. “My brother wasn’t exactly making it a pleasant stay, and I think she was desperate to get out of there. But I can’t imagine where she’d go. I just…thought I should tell you. You know her better than I do.”
True — except her three closest friends can’t imagine where she’d go, either, if not back to her father’s house. And they can’t imagine her resorting to that.
She has no money for a room at an inn. She doesn’t have a long list of friends who will open their homes up to her. And she most certainly can’t go back to Rhys’s mother’s cottage.
So…where? Will she pitch up in one of the abandoned tents across the camp? Will she spend her nights shivering in doorways and wondering where her next meal is coming from?
This is fucking ridiculous.
She can’t be left to live like this.
“You did the right thing, telling us.” Rhys reassures Vegha. He offers a gentle, soft smile to the girls at her sides. “How about you take these two back into the warm? We’ll deal with it.”
Gods, he’s already a High Lord through and through. Calm in the face of turmoil. Not letting on to his inner panic.
Vegha dips her chin. “Sorry, again, for interrupting.” She tugs gently at the children’s’ hands. “Come, girls.”
Rhysand’s brow furrows. Vegha is perhaps the only other good friend Y/N has in this place. There’s no way she’s made other arrangements — Rhys knows it. Cassian knows it. Azriel knows it.
“We’ve got to do something.” Azriel voices what they’re all thinking, a feral panic colouring his tone. “We can’t just leave her to face this on her own. Fuck what Devlon says. I’m not sitting back and letting her freeze or starve to death.”
Rhys chews his lip. “…I can try to speak with my father. But I’m not hopeful where he’s concerned. This falls under Devlon’s jurisdiction.”
“All Y/N needs is a roof over her head and some food in her belly until we can work out what to do next.” Cassian crosses his arms over his chest. “There’s got to be some way we can help. Is there not any clue of where she might go?”
The two males are looking at Az expectantly. If anyone knows, it’s him.
But he’s just…he’s not had his eye on the ball recently. His thoughts are all over the place. Perhaps he’s neglected his friendships a little — because he could swear he knows Y/N inside and out, and yet his mind is blank. Utterly fucking blank.
“I—I need to think.” He runs a hand through his hair, turning — he stops at the flash of red hair that meets him. He’d forgotten Kaeda was even there.
She stares between them, saying nothing, her face pinched and arms crossed. What she’s thinking, Az isn’t sure. But a thought suddenly strikes him.
“Kaeda.” He faces her properly. “Can’t you house Y/N in Fenlaros for the time being? Until this is sorted?”
Kaeda stops short. Blinks at him. “…What?”
“It doesn’t have to be your home, or…or even anything extravagant. Just somewhere she can sleep. There are surely more options in Fenlaros than there are here.”
Kaeda does not like this one bit. A negative reaction is rippling off her in waves, and it hits Cassian like a blast of cold air. Rhys, too.
But Az seems oblivious.
“Azriel…” The female keeps her voice calm, measured. “You know it isn’t that easy. A person can’t just…defect to another camp.”
“She wouldn’t—”
“So what’s your excuse?” The words are falling from Cassian’s lips before he can stop himself. He’s not sure he cares.
Kaeda pauses. Her face is a sheet of wide-eyed innocence as she turns to him. “Pardon me?”
Cass shrugs one shoulder. “You’ve been buzzing around here for months like a fly. What’s your excuse, if that’s not allowed? Because your father may be Lord of Fenlaros, sweetheart, and he may let you do whatever you want, but look around you. This is Windhaven. His word doesn’t mean shit here.”
Azriel takes a step towards him. “Cassian—”
“Either help our friend, or stay the fuck out of it—”
“Cassian, that is enough—”
“It’s fine, Azriel.” Kaeda’s voice is so deceptively warm, you could melt butter on it. She steps towards Cassian, face open, hands held up in a placating manner. “It’s fine. You’re right. I understand you’re upset, and I…I apologise if my presence here has been burdensome. Of course I’ll help any way that I can. I’ll talk to my father right away.”
Cass doesn’t feel particularly satisfied by that. Doesn’t believe a fucking word, to be honest. His eyes communicate that as he stares the female up and down.
“Cass, I think you should apologise.” Azriel says.
He barks a laugh. “No chance.”
“Kaeda just said she’d help—”
“Enough.” Rhys finally jumps in. His tone is laced with authority — just a smidgen of an idea of what he might one day be like as High Lord. He crosses his arms and glares the three of them down as though they’re bickering younglings. “Arguing back and forth will do nothing to help Y/N. We need to act. I will speak to my father. Kaeda will speak to hers. Az, you should see if you can find out where Y/N might have gone. Cass, I want you making sure she doesn’t go anywhere near her fucking father’s house. By the end of the day, we should have at least sorted something. Understood?”
Cass doesn’t look away from Kaeda. He can see her eye twitching — the way she so desperately wants to push back against being ordered. Gods, how Az can’t see right through her, he has no clue—
“Understood.” Azriel answers without hesitation. “I’ll get right on it.”
Rhys inclines his head. “As will I.”
“And I’ll head back to Fenlaros.” Kaeda adds.
Cassian merely shrugs. “Fine.”
Without goodbyes, Azriel is shooting into the skies — probably hoping to get an aerial view of a sodden, freezing Y/N traipsing through the snow.
Rhys looks between Cassian and Kaeda for a beat longer before he disappears, winnowing — Cass assumes — straight to Velaris.
And then there were two.
Kaeda turns back to Cass. The doe-eyed look on her face is instantly gone. There’s a hint of a damn smirk.
“Whatever game you’re playing at,” Cassian clenches his jaw. “You will not win.”
A soft hiccup of a laugh escapes the redhead. “Oh, yes I will.” She steps closer. Close enough for her cotton-and-powder scent to envelop the male. “See, I always get what I want. Always.”
“Not this time. Azriel may not see you for the viper that you are, but I do.” He grits his teeth. “And I will fucking destroy you before you cause any damage.”
Green eyes glitter back at him. The female is unperturbed by the threat — and she knows he means it. There’s even a change in her scent that makes Cassian’s nostrils flare. A darker one. A muskier one.
“Oh, Cassian, I do hope so.” She says, and pushes up so her lips are at his ear. Her full breasts brush his chest. “I love a male who’s willing to punish me.”
She winnows away before the snarl has a chance to claw up Cassian’s throat.
✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ
This is starting to feel like a bad idea.
It was easy, from the warmth and comfort of Vegha’s home, to convince yourself you’d be fine out amongst the wilds of the camp. But the old armoury is dark, dingy and cold, and within hours, you’re not sure you have the resolve for a single night there. Let alone however many you have ahead of you.
This used to be a place of mischief, when you and your friends were children. This far end of the camp has sat abandoned and unused for years, after newer, more effective training rings were installed where the hub of activity now lays. The four of you would spend days here, playing pretend with the old, wooden practice swords that were left behind. You’d make up stories of the area being haunted by the ghost of an ancient, disgruntled Camp Lord. And as you got older, it became a place to come and get drunk, to speak words and secrets that remained there, never to be carried away with you.
You won’t be bothered here, you know — nobody ventures this way. But that, and the fact that the old armoury affords you a roof over your head, are about the only positives. You’re so cold that it hurts. You’re hungry and miserable and tired in a way that has nothing to do with nightmare-filled sleeps.
And gods, you miss your friends. You miss them so much, it‘s a gnawing ache. All those nights you took for granted, tucked up warm in the cottage, Cassian making you all laugh with his antics. Those times seem so distant, now. Is this how it will be, from now on? Never did you think you’d be separated from your friends. And you don’t even know if this is a permanent thing. Will you have to wait and wait until Rhysand is High Lord and able to make decisions, before you can see them again?
These thoughts will do you no good. They’ll only make you colder and drive you to shed tears that you’re not sure you have the energy to shed.
You bundle in your blanket, squeezing your eyes shut as though that fruitless act will shield you from the cold. You were tempted to build a fire, but the last thing you want is to draw attention from anyone flying above. Being found in here will just bring you more trouble you don’t need.
You’re already hunched as it is, gloved hands buried under your armpits — but you somehow manage to tense even more when you hear the distinct sound of boots traipsing through the snow outside.
No.
You can’t do this — not right now. Nobody fucking comes here. Is the Mother laughing at you from above and sprinkling more misfortune into your already-dire existence? You can’t handle a confrontation, can’t handle being told you can’t stay here—
But the door creaks open, and it’s Azriel’s face that peers around cautiously. You almost sob with relief.
“Thank fuck.” He breathes. He’s slipping inside, shutting the door behind him. In a few great strides, he’s in front of you and dropping to his knees. “Are you alright?”
If you speak, you might crack. You risk it all the same. “How did you find me?”
“Took me a while to think of this place, I must admit. It’s been a long while since we were last here.”
But find you, he did. And fuck, his scent and natural warmth are swarming you. It feels like nothing else matters right then. Just you and him, like it’s always been. He yanks you into a hug, and you don’t stop him.
“You’re frozen.” He whispers, squeezing you. His gloved hands rub at your arms, your back, your shoulders. He pulls away to cup your face, and he studies every inch of it. You’re not sure what for.
But you stare back. You don’t know what to do or say. That could be the cold making it difficult to think, or it could be this weird wedge between you that feels like it’s only growing.
Az leans closer, and he presses his forehead against yours. “I miss you.” His gloves brush over your cheeks. “Gods, I miss you. So much.”
“I miss you, too.” You shudder. The words are weighty and truthful, not just referring to this past week apart, but to whatever has been going on for a while, now. You didn’t mean for it to be like this. You just want to go back to how it was.
“I’ve thought about nothing else—” His nose bumps against yours, and one of his hands slides to the nape of your neck, kneading the skin there. “I just—just need you close to me, Y/N. Always.”
You attempt a breathy laugh. “I don’t think Devlon would agree with that.”
“Fuck, Devlon. We’re going to get around this. Rhys is going to talk to his father, and even if that fails, Kaeda is talking to hers. I reckon they’ll be able to offer you sanctuary in Fenlaros until this is sorted—”
You pull back to blink at him. Study him. “What?”
“I asked Kaeda to speak with her father on your behalf. To see if they can find somewhere for you to stay. I’m sure they can—”
“Azriel, I’m not going to Fenlaros.”
He pauses. “…If they’ll have you, Y/N, yes you are. It means you’ll be safe and warm and fed—”
“No.”
“What? Why?”
“Besides the fact that I’m already in enough trouble thanks to that place?” You pull away from him, easing to your feet. “I don’t know anyone there. And if Devlon were to find out—”
“Stop worrying about Devlon and start worrying about your safety.” Azriel, too, stands. “It’s the most logical thing.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“Y/N.”
“I’m not going further away from you than I already am, and I’m especially not going to start playing house with your lover, Azriel, it’s odd—”
“That’s what this is about?” He cocks an eyebrow. Folds his arms. “Because you don’t want to accept help from Kaeda?”
You shrug. And just…just to give your body something to do, you begin pacing. “I’m not sure it would be very helpful at all.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You just don’t like her, do you?” He snaps. The sound is harsh, and it makes you grit your teeth. “You’re not willing to accept help that you so clearly fucking need, because you don’t like Kaeda.”
“I don’t trust Kaeda.” You whirl around to face him. “Not one fucking bit, and you shouldn’t, either.”
“Why?”
“Because none of it makes sense! Why is she here in Windhaven, Azriel? What is it she actually wants?”
It’s dangerous — the way your voices are rising in volume and echoing around the armoury. But it’s as though weeks of emotional buildup are floating to the surface, and you can’t stop them, and they’re stoking an anger that actually warms you and feels better than being cold and hungry.
Azriel shakes his head. “You’re fucking impossible sometimes, you know that? You don’t want to help yourself. It’s like you’re determined to make your life as difficult as possible, and when you’re offered help, you don’t take it. You’re impossible!”
“Yeah, Azriel, maybe I am.” You snap back. “But at least I’m not lying through my teeth like Kaeda is, and at least I don’t break my damn promises.”
Azriel stops short. Stares at you.
You and he both know you’re referring to Solstice Night. You should have confronted it before, but…but you buried it.
You’re not sure you can do that anymore.
Azriel purses his lips. And then has the nerve to state, “Things are different between you and I these days.”
“Yes.” You stare back at him. “They are.”
Your eyes are trying to communicate so much. Things are different, and it might be the boundaries you crossed, but you’re more certain than anything that it’s Kaeda’s influence. You just don’t understand why Azriel can’t see it.
You wonder what he might say yet. So much anger and pent-up frustration zips between you. Mixed with longing and missing each other. Loving each other. Wanting to scream at each other, and for each other.
And part of you wants him to spit vicious words and fight back, just for you to feel something — even though you know that’s not Azriel’s style. But you stare and stare, and neither of you speak, and then Az is shaking his head and clenching his jaw.
“I’m not arguing with you here.” He says. “It’ll only draw attention to us.”
You fold your arms. “Fine.”
“I’m going to speak to Rhys, find out what his father said. And I’ll speak to Kaeda—”
“Go right ahead. I’m still not stepping foot back in Fenlaros—”
“And I’ll bring you some blankets and food. Or Cassian will. Or…whatever.” He stops still for a second, swallowing. “But we need to fix this shit between us.”
You know that. But you’re so fucking stubborn, your own worst enemy. And right then, you want to scream. Cry. Hurt him how he hurt you.
So you say nothing. You just shrug again.
He stares, as if waiting for a better reaction. And then he shakes his head once more and turns, striding back to the door. You wonder if it’s a bad thing to let him go, like this. When will you see him again? How will things be when you see him again? You’re making it worse for yourself, for him, for both of you.
You open your mouth — to say what, you’re not sure. But you’re stopped by Az pausing with his hand on the doorknob. With his back to you, his shoulders tense. He’s frozen in place.
And then he speaks — growls — two words. “Fuck this.”
He turns, marching back over to you so fast, you don’t have time to react.
And then he’s grabbing your face, and his mouth is on yours.
azriel 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
#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel 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#azriel fanfiction#azriel fanfic#reader insert#cassian#rhysand#batboys#illyrians
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Scene I want w/ Gwyn & Rhys
Rhysand: I miss my sister. I miss being an older brother to her.
Gwyn: What do you miss about it most?
Rhysand: Everything. Annoying her. Teasing her. Being her conspirator and keeping her secrets. I have a family of my own now, but nothing can mend that loss.
Gwyn: It sounds like you were a good brother.
Rhysand: I tried to be.
Gwyn: I never had an older brother.
Rhysand: *softly* Would you like one?
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Could you do headcanons on the Bat Boys + Lucien and Eris where reader puts them on a sex ban? Like how would long would they last until they start basically begging reader to let them touch reader.
I feel like Cassian and Rhys wouldn’t last that long and start trying to find ways to get reader give in lol.
Sex Ban with the ACOTAR Men…
a/n: this was actually really funny to write
nsfw under the cut (18+ please)
Rhysand:
He’s lasting maybe a week. MAYBE.
Rhys would also be cocky enough to think that you weren’t serious about banning sex
And then he’d be shocked when you follow through
He’d pretend to be unbothered
But he’d quickly turn to endless flirting to try and make you change your mind—mostly with his daemati abilities.
You’d be at an inner circle meeting or at lunch with friends and he’d send mental images of him fucking you, or you on your knees for him, etc.
“I bet you miss feeling me inside you,” he’d say into your mind.
You’re not leaving the bedroom for a couple of days when you finally lift the ban
Cassian:
Poor Illyrian baby isn’t making it more than a single day
He has a high sex drive so this would be a nightmare for him LMAO
He definitely pouts. Not obnoxiously, but he’ll wrap his arms around you from behind, placing wet kisses along the crook of your neck, murmuring how much he wants to feel you wrapped around his cock.
And when you say no, he continues telling you all the filthy things he wants to do you, smirking as he scents your arousal.
Tons of lingering touches—a kiss on the cheek, or a light squeeze on your ass as he walks by you.
When he’s finally had enough he’ll press his hardness into you from behind, practically whining.
And the way he nips at your ear makes it almost impossible to deny him.
Azriel:
He could wait for quite some time, honestly.
He has the self-control for it!!
However!! The longer you make him wait? The longer he edges you when you finally give in.
MAN he would have a field day when you finally lifted the ban.
He’d waste zero time in tying you up, be it with rope or his shadows.
For Azriel, he gets a lot of pleasure just from watching your pleasure. So he’d bring you to the edge, be it with his tongue, his cock, his fingers.
Only to pull away at the last moment. He wouldn’t stop until you’re begging him.
And boy does he love to hear you beg!!
Once he finally lets you come, he’s overstimulating you too.
He’s a lil mean but we love it.
Lucien:
Like Azriel, I feel like he could wait quite a while.
But he tries his absolute hardest to get you to break!!
Whispering what he wants to do to you when the two of you are at an important meeting or out in public, where you can do nothing about it.
Walking around the house shirtless—bonus points if he just finished showering or working out.
He definitely gets a bit more touchy than usual, constant hugs and kisses.
But when he’s finally had enough, this male is not above begging.
Good luck walking the morning after you finally give in ❤️
Eris:
He could go maybe two weeks before he becomes feral.
Definitely uses touch as a way to try and get you to give in.
Heated makeouts, his tongue exploring your mouth, as his thumbs caress your nipples; grinding against you, etc.
And then he’ll grumble when you deny him.
“Don’t forget how easily I can turn you into a mess,” he’ll say.
He definitely proves that statement when you end the ban!!
When you finally end the ban, he draws at least 3 orgasms from you back to back, and makes you beg for each one.
#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acotar headcanon#acotar fanfiction#acomaf#acotar smut#smut#female reader#azriel x reader#azriel acotar#rhysand x reader#rhysand#Lucien Vanserra#Eris Vanserra#Cassian acotar#acotar Cassian#Cassian x reader#Eris Vanserra x reader#Lucien Vanserra x reader#Rhysand smut#Lucien smut#Eris smut#Cassian smut
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headcanons about azriel’s wings because I can’t sleep and they’re all I can think about
- first of all, he definitely has the largest wingspan, but he’s not cocky about it and let’s his brothers think that theirs are bigger
- they twitch when he’s irritated, or pissed off, or even sometimes when he’s turned on
- he’ll shoot one out in front of you so you don’t walk away from him or to prevent you from going any further somewhere else
- he uses them to shield you from things or other people and it has you standing on your tippy toes to try and look over them but they’re so damn huge that you can’t
- he’ll curl one around you to guide you closer to his side
- they flare slightly to show his dominance whenever another male looks at you a little too long for his liking and it always has you rolling your eyes at him
- he’s so needy and when you’re not paying attention to him, he’ll flap them, sending a gust of air in your direction and he smiles when you finally address him, even if it’s just to scold him for ruining your hair
- he drapes one across you while you sleep and it’s just like a second blanket
- you’re the first and only one besides healers he allows to ever touch his wings
- you’ll sit at the edge of the bathtub and clean them for him because “you get all the hard to reach places”
- and don’t even get me started on wingplay…
- the first time you gently stroke a particularly sensitive spot, he whimpers, yes whimpers
- you like to dance your fingertips along the membrane just to see his eyes closed and face scrunched up
- you’ll lean to kiss them because they’re just so beautiful and he’s coming undone within seconds
- there are plenty of times that you’ve made him finish by just playing with his wings
- anyway…
- the first time he comes to your small studio apartment, they bump into everything and you’re giggling as he tries to catch all the things that are falling off counters and shelves
- they slump when you’re upset with him or just sad in general because he hates seeing you like that
- similarly, they perk up whenever he sees you or hears your voice or laughter
- he’ll reach out and gently stroke one down your spine just to let you know he’s there
- he likes to cocoon you in them often, because he says it feels like it’s just you and him in the whole wide world
there’s a lot more but you get the gist
#azriel#azriel spymaster#azriel shadowsinger#azriel imagine#azriel headcanons#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acotar imagine#acotar headcanon#bat boys#sjmaas#sjm books#sjm fanfic#acotar fanfiction#acotar fandom#a court of silver flames#a court of mist and fury#a court of wings and ruin#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel x oc#azriel smut#azriel fluff#azriel fic#azriel fanfic#azriel acotar#sarah j. maas
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hc: acotar boys + s/o with illyrian wings
↳ including rhysand, cassian, azriel, lucien, and tamlin.
↳ some mentions of nsfw content but majority sfw, does not go into detail.
a/n: i have not read the entirety of the series nor have i wrote for acotar before. but this was stuck in my mind and i just had to see it through. enjoy, dears ❀
rhysand:
-adores taking leisurely flights with you across the night court lands, velaris, you name it and you're going. on days where you both need to get away and find some peace, you would fly away to some peak of a mountain or to a wide open field of flowers. smiles at you the whole time you glide easily next to him.
-definitely compares wing spans all the time. "no, i swear mine are bigger! look!" as he's straining and stretching the tips of them out to elongate his wingspan. you laugh and play along because you know that yours are without a doubt bigger but you'll let him win this time.
-his already large bed expands when you sleep in it together, ensuring that your wings rest on the sheets comfortably. he knows how annoying it is to tuck them in tightly or let them droop off the ends.
-if you've had a bad day, he'll ask for your permission before massaging the spots of skin surrounding your wings before gently running his hands along them, sending shivers down your spine. sometimes this will lead to more as his apt hands cause you to whimper but if it has been a particularly rough day, he is content to give you physical comfort and nothing more.
-feels incredibly proud to have you. while he hates entering the court of nightmares and putting on his persona, he secretly loves walking in to the city with you as his partner, wings fiercely on display.
-and just for some small self-indulgence, i think rhys loves wing play. when the two of you are close in bed, passionate and sweaty, he loves running his hands along your wings and he flares his out so you can do the same to him. he just can't help groaning at your reaction. enough said (i am so perfectly normal about this)
cassian:
-races with you in the air. some days he is just bounding with energy and adrenaline and nothing helps him more than leaping off of the balcony of your townhouse and soaring high in the air, dodging one another, doing tricks, etc. while rhys loves peaceful flights with you, cassian is the exact opposite.
-if you ever feel insecure about your wings, he'll encourage you to be confident about them and let them out. he may notice that a party, you get insecure about taking up so much space and you try to tuck your wings in as close as possible, placing yourself in corners. he'll come to your side, spread his wings out and tap your back to tell you to do the same. "don't feel bad about them, sweets. you look glorious."
-your sleep habits are definitely...interesting. two people in one bed with enormous wings sprouting from the backs? yeah, it's a little hard to maneuver. but you manage and usually, in the morning, you end up sprawled on the bed, limbs tangled, hair in faces, pillows off the bed, but rested and comfortable nonetheless.
-cassian loves being a tease and throughout the day, anytime he sees you, he'll sneak on you and run a finger down the most sensitive part of your wings, causing reactions that make those around you just slightly uncomfortable. he laughs and giggles and you don't stay mad at him for long.
-he would find it really attractive if your wings were bigger than his or if you could take him down in a fight. he's spent his life being a fearsome warrior, stronger than everyone, and if his partner can spread their wings and tackle him to the ground, he'll be so excited.
-you know that scene in good omens where aziraphale covers crowley's head with his wing? yeah, cassian does that. if you're walking anywhere and it starts raining, snowing, etc. he will gladly place his wing over top of your head to keep you from getting wet. you appreciate it more than anything.
azriel:
-i like to headcanon azriel as being a little fancy and bougie. he definitely has piles of oils, lotions, and skin care products for his wings that he will share with you. he likes keeping them shiny, moisturized, and clean. more often than not, he'll have you sit down in the bathroom while he does a mini skincare routine for your wings alone. you love it and look forward to it every night.
-azriel's wings are canonically the largest of the bat boys and i think he feels a secret sense of pride about this. no matter how good of a warrior cassian is or how good of a leader rhysand is, he holds that over them and this reflects in your relationship. he doesn't feel threatened by them, both because he trusts them and because he knows your affinity for his wings.
-oh my god...his shadows dance all over your wings when you're together. they tickle and give you goosebumps along every part of your body. azriel pretends to rein them in but he loves seeing you giggle at the feeling and sometimes sends his shadows out to run along your wings when you need to cheer up.
-if anyone ever hurt your wings or damaged them in any way, he'd see red and nothing else. he knows how much wings matter to an illyrian and if you come home from a battle with your wings bleeding, ripped, or scarred, he'd immediately find them and make them wish they didn't do such a thing to you.
-when crowds and people and senses become too much for either of you, you'll slip off to some secluded place, usually your home, and wrap each other in your wings, enveloping you in darkness and quiet. it's a great remedy for headaches or overstimulation. in general, i think azriel hugs with his wings. his arms will be wrapped tight around your body and his wings will encase you as much as they can.
-some more self indulgence here...i think azriel isn't as fond of his wings being used in the bedroom but as for yours...shew. you know how his shadows like to play with your wings? he revels in your sounds, gasps, and surprise at the feeling of your most sensitive spot being touched so delicately.
lucien:
-lucien has always been fascinated with illyrian wings. i think he'd ask you so many questions about them, about how they feel, how it feels to fly, etc. he'd very politely ask for your permission before grazing them with his hands, taking in the beauty of them.
-he always wanted to fly like the illyrian warriors he was familiar with but he never asked you out of embarrassment. the first time he flew with you was out of pure need as you escaped from some kind of danger together. he couldn't get away fast enough so without thinking, you picked him up and soared into the sky with him. after that moment, he looks for any chance to fly with you.
-lucien is a fast learner when it comes to learning how to care for your wings. he picks up on the spots that ache the most and pays special attention to those after long days. he speaks to cassian and azriel about caring for them, and he takes their advice to heart, buying whatever he needs.
-sometimes, he feels insecure and wonders if you'd prefer to be with someone who can match your skill set and keep up with you better. you shut down those thoughts as soon as they come up and make some joke that illyrians are a cocky breed and that you'd much prefer to be with him. you even offer to train him in some illyrian fighting techniques which he quickly takes you up on.
-if someone stares at your wings while you're at some kind of spring court high society function, he'd shoot them an evil glare which is particularly intimidating. he reassures you that there is no need to hide the beauty of your wings and that he'd deal with anyone who says something bad about them.
-lucien can't help but blush when you casually use your wings to help him throughout the day. if he shivers at a draft blowing through open windows, your wing will find a spot behind him to block the cool air. you will block the bright sun when you're walking together, barely caring about the intense warmth. if you're fighting together, your wing blocks hits and acts as a barrier between him and an enemy. when he questions himself, he thinks about those small moments that show your love and smiles.
tamlin:
-i think that tam can feel a little threatened sometimes by your wings and skills as a warrior. he places a lot of importance in his position as a protector and it takes him some time to get used to having a partner that can defend themselves. once he does, though, you two are practically an unstoppable force.
-he tries to act very nonchalant about your wings out of fear of offending you by staring at them or touching them. the first time you catch him looking at them in the sunlight, you smile and tell him that you'd never be offended by him admiring them. after that, he's constantly raking his eyes along your wingspan, creating poetic lines in his head about how the stars reflect on the silky black skin.
-tam is possessive by nature and if he sees someone complimenting them or, gods forbid, touch them, he couldn't hold back the claws emerging. he knows very well that you will stand your ground but nobody touches his partner like that and he will let them know very quickly.
-he will never really admit it but he loves seeing you in the light, pastel colors of the spring court, especially when they contrast so heavily with the dark wings on your back. he thinks one of his favorite views is you laid out in the rose garden, soaking in the sunshine with your wings laid out entirely on the ground. his love for you swells and he wishes he had a camera to keep the view preserved forever.
-he loves to spoil you with the best wing care you've ever seen. i'm talking expensive oil infused with gold that creates the most beautiful sparkle along the wings. i'm talking handmade soap sourced from velaris that smells divine which he uses while you take a bath together. he thrives when he gets to spoil you like this.
-his first calanmai after you became partners is an entire story in itself. even while ferociously charged with power, he asks for your permission to touch your wings while in the heat of things. his delicate hands are so different from the rest of the way he's taking you and he draws sounds from you that bounce off the cave walls and echo for likely miles.
i hope you enjoy this! i really like writing headcanons so if you have any requests, please let me know! <3
#acotar#acotar series#acotar x reader#rhysand#rhysand x reader#cassian#cassian x reader#azriel#azriel x reader#lucien vanserra#lucien x reader#tamlin#tamlin x reader#acotar headcanon#headcanon#wings#fluff
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modern!batboys as (your) roommates - headcanons.
because let's be honest, we have all thought about that at some point.🦇
(this is the introduction of my new drabble universe!!! I can´t tell you how fucking excited I am.)
it would be wrong to say that your life was boring before you met the three idiots you now call your roommates
sure, it wasn't as exciting
but you had your tiny little apartment, went out with friends once in a while and mostly enjoyed having your own space and routines
but then
shit hits the fan
and by shit I mean your landlord
because of a loophole in the rental agreement, he's able to kick you out of your apartment with only a months notice
in other words
you're fucked
or, as your best friend Feyre, who you met the first week of orientation and became inseperable with, says -
"That bastard." Feyre's eyes are stormy.
"What the hell am I gonna to do?" You bury your face in your hands, your voice muffled when you mumble: "How am I supposed to find a new apartment in a few weeks? For this one, I looked over a year, and it's a glorified shoebox!" Your voice rises as you feel a wave of dread crash over you and your heart rising into your throat.
"Hey, it's okay. If worst comes to worst, you can crash at my place,", Feyre raises her brows, "even though we'd have to share my bed, but - I won't just let you sleep on a park bench if that's what you're worried about. Unless you find another glorified shoebox that's technically out of your budget, it's you and me, crashing on my bed, climbing over your stuff to get to the bathroom, finding out what married life would feel like."
even though you love her to death, that really does not sound like an option you want to explore
so you try everything
scouring every paper for apartment advertisments, posting on your uni's socials, going to all the viewings you can find -
nothing
but just when you're ready to just give up
a miracle happens
the miracle is 5'5, has impeccable style and hair, a love for deep red lipstick and drops by for lunch
Mor has been your friend for two years now, since you almost spilled your coffee over her laptop at the library
(she's still not letting you live that down)
she also likes to get you out of your comfort zone
"Are you serious?" Mor stares at you wide-eyed.
"Yep." You tiredly stir your coffee. "I've been turned away for twenty apartments in the past few days alone. I'm aready seeing myself bunking with Feyre. She offered, but her bed barely fits into her apartment as it is."
Mor breathes a giggle before hastily clearing her throat. "Sorry."
You grin weakly before rubbing your face. "I don't know what I'm gonna do. I know it could be even worse, but -"
"It already feels pretty shitty,", Mor ends. You sigh in confirmation and are about to change the topic, because you haven't seen the blonde in weeks and feel bad about ruining your lunch. But before you can open your mouth, Mor suddenly squints in thought. Then she looks at you.
"How much do you value your privacy?
Given the fact you'll be basically homeless on the street in about a week if you don't find a new place - not much.
Mor begins to grin, and there's a bright twinkle in her eyes.
"Well, then I might just have the solution."
the next day, Mor drags you downtown
she takes you to an old but sophisticated building you wouldn't even dream about living in
a single month's rent there would probably empty your whole bank account
but Mor just winks and pulls you up the stairs
on the third floor, a guy leans in an open door
and that
is how you meet Rhys.
Mor's cousin is annoyingly beautiful
tall, with perfectly tousled dark hair, a perfect grin that causes his cheeks to crease and, from the looks of it, the also perfect physique
he's also annoyingly charming
(if you'd met him somewhere without Mor, you would have probably gaped for a moment before catching onto the mischievous twinkle in his nearly violet eyes and promptly avoided him, because someone that pretty had to have some fault)
as it turns out, Rhys' fault is offering practical strangers to live with him without even batting an eye
"What?"
You blink at Mor from where you just sank onto the very comfortable couch, because she can't possibly -
"Okay, before you freak out, just listen, okay?" Mor is grinning giddily. "The guys have a free room they don't really use anyway and you really need a new place - so you could just move in here!" She beams. "The place is definitely big enough, and you'd fit in perfectly, I promise! They're just as chaotic as you, but also very responsible -"
"Mostly." Rhys' eyes are twinkling. He's looking completely and slightly concerningly unbothered by the prospect of you, a factual stranger, moving in with him and his friends.
"- they don't have any bad habits, they're fairly neat -"
"Mostly."
Mor widens her eyes at you. "It's perfect!"
You blink at her.
"I've already talked to my roommates." Rhys' deep voice is almost soothing - mostly because he sounds a lot calmer than Mor, steady and reassuring.
"If you want, this can be temporary, until you find a place just for yourself, but this way you don't have to stress about needing to find a place in a certain time, plus,", he cracks a grin, "I don't like the idea of you having to crash on somebody's couch in the foreseeable future, that's just bullshit if we got a free room here no one uses anway. And if this works,", one corner of his lips quirks even more until his grin is a lot closer to the wicked twinkle in his eyes, "none of us would mind another roommate."
"You don't have to decide right now." Mor smiles brightly. "But I think it would be great, and you'd make a bargain with the rent, because Rhys loves to play sugar daddy -", her cousin flips her off, "and I think this would be a really good idea." She grins, suddenly a little sheepish.
if you weren't so desperate, you would whip out about a dozen arguments about why this probably isn't a good idea
like the fact that rooming with three dudes sounds like a lot of testosteron, or that you don't even know them, and that they don't even know you -
but from the way Rhys lounges in his chair, smirking easily while Mor beams at you, he doesn't seem to see too much of a problem in that
also you are very, very desperate
but there´s still that one thing -
"About those roommates -"
When you hear the door, you raise your head, your heart doing a slightly concerning flip in your chest.
It's a day later, and you just finished a tour of the apartment Rhys has given you. Even though it's huge and very grand with it's high ceilings decorated with stucco and the original hardwood floors, it feels warm and cozy. The room you'd be sleeping in is as big as your whole current apartment, light with two big window and a view of the trees on the street outside.
It kind of makes you wonder where the catch is.
Maybe it's about to walk through the door.
You hear a deep voice and heavy footsteps, then a dude appears in the door to the kitchen.
Your heart does a somersault, and you feel your lips part a bit. Because frankly, it's a miracle he makes it through the door without hitting his head.
The guy's huge. His shoulders and chest strain against his t-shirt; he looks like one of those dudes who basically have muscle in their DNA, all corded muscle under ridiculously huge shoulders and a solid middle, muscular long legs under black jeans -
And you're staring.
Big time.
The dude's looking over his shoulder, which means he thankfully doesn't notice you oggling him. The half of his hair that isn't pulled back in a bun brushes against his neck when he grins, his cheeks creasing. He's really good looking, in a rugged kinda way, with his roughly curved jaw and the scar on the side of his face, and when he looks back ahead, his eyes twinkle warmly.
Then, behind him, another guy appears in the doorway, and your breath catches.
Because if Rhys is annoyingly beautiful, the guy in the door is drop-dead gorgeous.
Just like the other two, he's tall and all lean muscle. His shoulders shift under his black t-shirt as he leans against the doorframe, his hands sliding into the pockets of his black jeans. His eyes look like amber in sunlight, his dark hair is tousled, a strand curving over his forehead. His face is all angles and soft lips, dark brows that look like he likes to crunch them in a scowl, but right now, he looks fairly relaxed, though his gaze is watchful.
And on yours.
Feeling warmth wash into your cheeks, you hastily look away while crap, crap, crap echoes through your head, because of course he caught you staring.
On to a really great start here.
Your gaze grazes his hands and the bit of uneven skin that merges into veiny, tan forearms before your eyes trail over the tattoos peaking out from his sleeves.
There's the sound of someone clearing their throat, and you feel the heat in your cheeks deepen when your eyes dart up and meet Rhys', a twinkle in his iris when he sends you a lazy grin.
"Boys, this is Y/N." He raises a brow. "Our new roommate."
and that is how you meet Cassian and Azriel
it almost makes you reconsider
because you're really not sure you're gonna survive rooming with three guys that pretty
but after thinking it over for a few days, you realize that you really don't have a choice
and so a week later, Rhys and Cassian come over to your apartment to help you move the first half of your stuff
neither blink an eye at the fact it's about the size of a broom closet in comparison to their home
Rhys does however scowl when he sees the condition of the bathroom
you're ready to sink into the floor when you hastily explain pretty much all the apartments in the building look like that
(a lil dingy and moldy)
but when he turns, Rhys just glowers and grumbles under his breath about how he'd like to rip your landlord a new one
it's the first time you realize that under all the aloofness and swagger and cheeky grins, Rhys cares
it's proven again when you move into your new room a week later and there's a new mattress on the also new bed bed
you haven't bought either of them, but when you try to protest, Rhys just huffs about your back probably being fucked up because of your old one and about how he'll add it to your rent
he never does
you get used to rooming with three guys surprisingly quickly
sure, it is pretty much a total 180 -
going from living alone in a tiny apartment
to sharing a huge flat with three dudes who make the place vibrate with laughter and bicker like they have been married for thirty years
but even tho you never thought you'd be the type to actually enjoy having roommates
you find that with them - you don't really mind
of course it is nice to have the place to yourself sometimes
and after about two weeks, you're comfortable enough to blast your music and dance through the kitchen when you're alone
(yes, at some point, they catch you - it takes you about a minute to realize there are three guys standing in the doorway, watching you dance with a broom. you get a mild heart attack and Cassian and Rhys start cackling while Azriel smirks)
but even if usually there's always someone around -
you find that all three of them are very good at both respecting your boundaries and leaving you be when you need to curl up in your room
but also seem to know when you need someone to drag your ass out into the world
and something about knowing at least one of them will probably be there when you get home makes you feel very warm and fuzzy
and even tho you weren't completely sure about this situation in the beginning
you get roped into living with the three guys instead of just rooming with them
it really starts with Cassian
probably gets used to you living there the quickest
after barely a week, he's treating you like you've lived with them since the beginning
like just sticking his head into your room and roping you into helping him with dinner
it surprises you a little that they all have dinner together
(from what you've heard from friends who have roommates, they usually all do their own thing most of the time)
but it makes you realise that these guys are more family than just roommates
Cassian is surprisingly easy to talk to
he's quick with the quips and the banter
also very flirtatious
constantly makes you laugh, his deep, boisterous chuckles infectous
also super affectionate
you're convinced that the man is actually just a huge teddybear
after just a few weeks, you're used to hugs that lift you off your feet, cheek kisses as greetings and being casually lifted out of the way like you don't weigh anything
not that you're the only one who gets that treatment
no, there are hugs in greeting that make Rhys groan dramatically like his air supply is cut off
pats on the shoulder and smacking forehead kisses that make Azriel crinkle his nose
Cassian quickly becomes the one you go to when you need advice.
he always listens attentively
doesn't sugarcoat things
stays objective while never making you feel bad or less about anything
and it quickly becomes pretty clear he'd put everything aside if any of you ever need help
gives you rides in his beat up truck to uni
always picks you up when studying at the library gets late bc he doesn't like the idea of you out alone after dark
with Cass, even mundane things like grocery shopping become fun
he's just casually funny and teases the shit out of you at every opportunity
has no understanding of the concept of personal space
and with most people, that would kinda put you off a little in the beginning
but Cassian just has something about him
something so inheritly good and warm and sunny
that he never once makes you feel uncomfortable
if anything, with him around, you feel a lot more at ease
and not just bc it's always nice to have a guy in your back that towers over you like a lighthouse
though the whole massive, tatted dude with the dark eyes thing kinda goes out of the window as soon as he grins at you
dimples and all
but don't be fooled
when the grin's gone and he's glaring, you know why people make way for him immediately
works at a gym to earn some money at the side
once, he takes you with him just for fun
then one time becomes another and before you know it, you tag along twice a week
it would be wrong to say it's not doing something to you when he crouches in front of you, his deep voice rumbling as he mumbles encouragements
"Alright, come on, sweetheart, gimme one more."
Trying not to make a very embarassing groaning sound, you crunch your face in concentration and slowly lower yourself into a squat, your muscles trembling slightly.
"There you go, that's it." You can feel Cassian in your back, spotting you, his deep voice rumbling through you, and it's just almost distracing enough for you to -
"No, no, come on, you can do it." Cassian's deep chuckle sets you at ease, and he lightly pats the side of your thigh. "You got this, c'mon."
With a soft groan, you push yourself up again, and you can hear the triumph and wide grin in Cassian's voice when he goes: "Yeeessss, good job, baby. C'mon, you can do one more."
Blowing out a heavy breath and glaring at nothing in particular, you ready yourself.
when one day, he makes you lose focus, you're gonna throw something at him
you're pretty sure he does it on purpose just to see how red you can get
but Cass is really good at pushing you without overdoing it, always teasing and encouraging
and if you manage to do something, in the gym or otherwise, he grins so widely you're almost sure he's more proud of you than you are yourself
Rhys is a flirt.
and after you get over the first initial blush that just won't leave you alone for the first few weeks
it actually becomes entertaining
now bantering back and forth is basically all you do
it gets so bad, Azriel constantly rolls his eyes at the two you
but just like you suspected, behind all the flirtiness and mischievous grins
Rhys cares
a lot
whenever you´re upset, he looks like he's contemplating ripping apart whatever or whoever made you upset
and whenever someone has a go at Cass or Azriel, Rhys picks them apart with lethal precision and a wicked smile
if Cassian is most affectionate, Rhys is close second
he's slightly more casual about it
pinching your nose, flicking your ear softly, offering his cheek for a kiss in greeting
always down for amazing hugs tho
whenever you get on your period, Rhys turns full mother hen
it's actually quite entertaining to see a 6-foot-something dude grumble because you don't want to take painkillers
"I just don't like to take them until it's really necessary, okay?" You glower at Rhys, curling up on the couch and trying to suppress a wince.
Rhys incredulously narrows his eyes.
"You're bleeding from your uterus and look like you want to curl into the couch. I'd say it is pretty necessary."
behind all the snark and arrogance, Rhys cares
also seems to have a rather unhealthy tendency to put everyone else first
you catch on pretty easily that even though his father is absolutely loaded, Rhys doesn't particularly cares about his money
in fact
he doesn't hesitate to spend whatever money his father pumps into his bank accounts for a second
when you ask Mor about it, she just smiles lopsidedly.
"I think it's his kind of protest?" She squints into the sun shining onto the balcony of the flat, the big glass of iced tea in her hand glittering in the light. "You know, spending all that money, preferably on his friends? Mostly because I don't think his father really likes them."
You wince.
"He knows he can't win against his father." Mor crunches her brows in thought. "I think he came to terms with having to take over the business one day, and he cares about the people who have their jobs there, so he won't let them down. It's just hard sometimes, if your whole life is already planned for you." She shrugs gently. "Doing this, living with Cassian and Azriel and now you, spending his fathers money on it and actually having a good time than just being bitter and stuck up - it's his way of not surrendering completely."
you have never met Rhys' father, but even tho he's powerful af
you really feel a strong desire to kick him in the balls
Rhys has a knack of knowing exactly when you need to talk and when you need to be distracted
it's not unusual that after a bad day, he just joins you on the couch, plopping down and pulling your feet onto his lap
it either leads to you venting and him listening
usually giving very appropriate responses of either huffs, scowls or downright glowering
or, if you don't want to talk
he either lets you use him as a human pillow, grumbling over your choice of movie while scratching your head
or he takes you out
to the cinema, a museum, the theater
you're pretty sure you've grown a lot more cultured in a few months than the whole of your life before that
it never gets boring tho
the whole thing kinda annoys the crap out of you in the beginning bc he never lets you pay for anything
but you get better at finding ways to pay him back in other ways
like taking over making dinner on days when he's exhausted
coaxing rants out of him when his father gets to him
dragging him out on nightly walks through the city when he can't sleep
and after a while
you understand that it's just one of Rhys' love languages
and it is fun to spend his father's money ;)
especially when it means museum saturdays with the two of you just sitting and staring at paintings
or going to the cinema and pigging out on popcorn and greasy stuff while whisper hissing facts at each other
even takes you to stuff like wine tastings
Rhys is a foodie
likes super fancy pickles, trying food you can't even pronounce and splurging on dinner
and if he decides the two of you need to get out of the apartment
one way or another
it usually ends in a restaurant
always orders like half the menu
also cooks the best out of all of you
like I'm talking freaking perfection
whips up the fanciest, most delicious far-too-many-courses meal for holidays
and goes all in even if he just makes dinner
you often get lured into the kitchen by the delicious smells
usually ends up with you on the couch at the table while Rhys moves around the kitchen
talking about everything and nothing
(also not above slapping anyone's hand away if they try to sneak a taste)
Azriel is quiet
not shy; you catch onto that pretty quickly
he's too quick and easy on any dry remark in response to his friends' boisterous teasing for that
and his gaze too firm and piercing
rarely shies away when you catch his gaze
in the beginning
that intimidated the shit out of you
the way he appears without a sound, towering over you, all dark and quiet and brooding
it's like he perfected the art of going unnoticed
tho you're not quite sure how
bc how could anyone not notice him?
after a while tho
you realise that even tho Azriel is dark and glowering and brooding
there's something gentle about him
it surfaces in the smallest things
like how his lips curve the softest bit when you grin up at him
how light and careful his touch is
how he is always respectful, putting himself between you and the street, holding doors open without ever seeming to think twice about it
and how everything about him seems to darken when he witnesses anyone being treated poorly
but even if anger rages within him like a rising tide, quiet and dangerous
you still always feel safe with him
maybe it's bc, even in those moments, you just know it will never be directed at you
and that even tho there's always that darkness within him, it's never something that feels unsettling or dangerous
and instead soft and welcoming
like something about him and that steady, dark gaze just calms you
maybe because he's so quiet, Azriel seems to see and hear everything
in record time, he begins to catch onto every little detail about you
mundane things
like how you like your favorite drink or what your favorite ice cream is
the only reason you know he notices is because he begins to hand you cups in the morning that are exactly right and the freezer starts to always hold a big container of your favorite ice cream
but also seems to know exactly what your tell is when you're nervous
uncomfortable
or tired
what makes you upset
happy
nervous
what causes you to giggle uncontrollably
and so on
it should probably unsettle you, how easily he sees through you
but it doesn't
sure, it's a bit weird at first
but you quickly realise it's strangely comforting - that someone pays enough attention to know even the smallest thing about you
is your favorite person to be around when you just need a break
it's like something about him is grounding, steady to you
like being around him makes your thoughts calm down
makes it easier for you to sort the chaos your mind sometimes becomes
beneath all of the quiet watchfulness lies a wicked, dry sense of humor
his mumbled remarks make you snort laughter or beam widely up at him
always makes his lips curve
reads a ton
when you first see his room, you almost gape
because the guy has books
they fill the shelves
balance in towers on the floor
sit on the window sill and next to his bed
most of the books in the shelves in the living room are his as well
has a great dislike for movie adaptions
sits there with that scowl of his, glaring at you until it's over when you make him watch one
says it destroys the pictures in his head
(to be fair
you don't think he's entirely wrong about that)
always has a camera in reach
got a few, all older ones; no fancy digital ones, but all on film
just like he seems to catch onto everything
so does his camera
it's like the manifestation of his quiet perception of things
to fix things onto film
captures everything
most of the time, you don't even notice
only sometimes you raise your head to find the camera in his hands, a slight curve to his lips
develops all pictures himself, in a dark room on campus students can book
spends hours in there, just working in silence
there's usually a lot of bugging involved before he shows the developed pictures to anyone
usually ends in all of you leaning over them eagerly, trying to figure out when he took them
Rhys standing in the kitchen, grinning over his shoulder like Cassian just made a bad joke
you and Feyre, laughing so hard you lean into each other
Mor, lying upside down on the couch while focusing on the cards in her hand while you're next to her, mid-motion, a focused expression on your face
Cassian napping on the couch, twisted in a very uncomfortable position to fit all six feet something of him onto the cushions
there seems to be an endless number, and they're all carefully stored away in his shelves
some, he refuses to show to anyone
it takes you so little time to feel at home in the huge flat, the prospect of looking for an apartment for yourself is off the table before you can actually start
and it doesn't take long until you're part of the routines like you'd been there since the beginning
Saturday and Sunday evenings are for movie nights
sometimes, Mor joins you
you sit with Azriel on the couch, sharing a big bowl of popcorn while staring at Rhys and Cassian argue about which Star Wars movie to start with
in the summer, you take trips to the lake for swims
have game nights
and evenings sitting on the balcony, squinting into the setting sun
barbecues
afternoons in the park, one joining in after the other
in winter, you go to the ice rink
bake together
and spend whole weekends on the couch, watching movies
you go to the gym with Cassian or accompany him on his runs
(well, he's running - you're on your bicycle, because there's no way you can keep up with that dude´s long legs)
get dragged out onto hikes by Rhys
in the evenings, you usually all end up in the kitchen for dinner, banter thrown over the dinner table
Azriel and you mostly take care of the grocery shopping together
it usually entails you trying to reach something on a high shelf and Azriel huffing, moving to grab it without even having to stretch
sometimes Cassian joins in, and you both make it your mission to annoy Azriel until he laughs
both Az and Rhys regularly give you rides on their motorcycles
while Cassian likes to stick to his old, beat up truck, Rhys has a car as well, but alternates between it and the motorcycle
more often than not, he uses it as opportunity to flirt
small cleaning duties in the apartment are rotated between the four of you
but big-once-a-month-deep-cleans are something you make a day of
blasting music, you divide the flat and get to work
(bathroom duty is rotated)
in the (very rare) case of an argument, it usually ends in one of you being mediator
which means after a cooling off period
the arguing parties are locked in the pantry until they've talked things out
works surprisingly well
sometimes, the boys bring someone home
it usually comes with a text
or the very oldschool sock on the door
tho you ban that one after Cassian forgets it
and you walk into the flat unsuspectingly only to be flashed
Cassian apologizes profoundly
after he's done laughing
there are also a few awkward encounters in the hall in the morning that leave you contemplating not running around in just big t-shirts
Feyre still gives you rides to campus and back
but sometimes, it's Azriel waiting in the parking lot instead, leaned against his motorcycle, two helmets next to him
it does not help with the way your heart seems to speed up whenever you find his amber eyes on you.
but you're very adamant on pushing that away
it's probably not that serious anyway.
so
it would be wrong to say your life was boring before you met the three idiots you now call your roomates
but it sure as hell is a lot better now that you have
even if they do drive you a little nuts sometimes
@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels
#azriel#rhys#rhysand#cassian#acotar x reader#acotar#acowar#acomaf#az x reader#az imagine#az/reader#azriel imagine#azriel x female!reader#azriel x reader#acotar headcanon#rhysand imagine#rhys imagine#cassian imagine#modern!roommate batboys series#modern au#lalacliffthorne
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Imagine Eris and Rhys having a discussion in a meeting, while in the background, the persistent cries of Nyx echo from another room. The wailing only ceases when Eris, exasperated, exits the room. He then glances at a weary Feyre, takes Nyx, burps him, and skillfully swaddles him tightly, prompting a contented smile from Nyx.
"How?" Feyre inquired, nearly in tears.
"I had six baby brothers," he replied.
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******Mad at Azriel headcanons******
Reader is Azriel’s pregnant mate that he committed an (almost) unforgivable act of betrayal against - if only he knew what the act was.
- This male. The Spymaster of the Night Court, the most observant male in Prythian, cannot figure out why his mate is upset with him.
- He betrayed you. Committing a completely unforgivable act.
- “Baby?” He stalks up behind you, carefully wrapping his arms around your waist, peppering your neck with soft kisses.
- A little kick nudges his hand away from your perfectly rounded belly.
- Not you too little one… Az thinks to himself.
- You huff. “I’m in the middle of something, Az.”
- You can’t see his face behind you but you know those brows are furrowed, trying to click the pieces together.
- Which makes you roll your eyes further back into your head.
- “Is there anything I can help with?”
- Oh no, there it is, he thinks to himself. The scoff. “I don’t need your help. Thanks.” He’s in deep shit.
- He stalks away. Knowing better than to sit idly, he begins tidying up around your home. Completely puzzled.
- His shadows swirl in agitation as if saying, “how have you not figured this out??”
- They’re definitely on your side
- A knock on the front door sounds before the door barges open and a boisterous “Honey!!! I’m here!!” fills the room.
- Mor enters holding a giant box of pastries… from your favorite bakery.
- “Shit.” He mouths as Mor gives him a taunting smirk.
- His shadows swirl in exasperation as if saying, “we told you, you were forgetting something!”
- “Mor!!!!” You shout. Running (waddling, but Az would never say that out loud) into her arms.
- Once Mor leaves, Azriel spends the rest of the evening begging every square inch of your body for forgiveness.
- He of course spends extra time kissing your belly, he’d never intentionally deprive his mate or their tiny little love of the sugar they were craving.
- When you wake up the next morning a fresh box of the pastries sits on your night stand along with a copy of the newest Sellyn Drake novel that you’d been dying to get your hands on.
- You guess you can forgive him… this time. 🥰
———————
I wrote this very quickly so I apologize for any potential typos! I have been hard at work on the next installments of “Cowboy Like Me” and “Ballad of the High Lady of Spring” and wanted to give you all something in the meantime!
Btw, this can be read as a headcanon companion to Ivy (Covered in You) and Solstice Tree Farm ❄️
#azriel x reader#azriel fluff#azriel shadowsinger#azriel headcanons#pregnant#pregnant mate#sarah j maas#a court of thorns and roses#acotar#Azriel x reader headcanons#azriel x pregnant mate#acotar headcanon#morrigan#shadowsinger x reader
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Lucien deserves to laugh. He jokes so much with Feyre and Tamlin in the first book. And then everything gets so serious so fast for him. But he deserves to be happy, to be able to laugh and joke again. That's all I want for him, a love full of laughter.
#lucien vanserra#pro lucien vanserra#lucien vandaddy#for lucien vanserra#acotar fanfiction#acotar theory#acotar headcanon#lucien
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In the training room with Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie
Nesta: WHO ARE WE?
Gwyn and Emerie: THE VALKYRIES!
Nesta: WHAT ARE WE?
Gwyn and Emerie: WE’RE WARRIORS!
Nesta: AND WHAT DO WE LIKE?
Gwyn: Smut novels!
Nesta:
Emerie:
Cassian: *snickered*
Azriel: *pursed his lips*
Gwyn: Oh, wrong answer. We like to kick asses!
#the valkyries#gwyn berdara#nesta archeron#emerie#pro gwyneth berdara#pro nesta#azriel shadowsinger#cassian#azriel#gwynriel#nessian#incorrect acotar quotes#acotar headcanon
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Hiii!!!
I know that you have a lot of other fics to write but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head
So imagine the reader and Azriel have a daughter and she’s 3 and she has a crush on a boy in her daycare’s class, and when she got home with the reader, Azriel heard her talking about him to the reader, so the next day Azriel decides to pick her up from daycare and when he sees the boy, he’s just glaring at him
I don’t really know if this makes sense but overprotective Az is so🤭…
THANK YOUUU💗💗💗
Overprotective Bat
Summary: No one is allowed to talk to Azriel's Princess.
•○●⛦●○•
A/n: Anon, i love you soo much for sending this in. I loved writing it, i literally giggled when you sent this in lol
Enjoy!
•○🌑○•
"And then what happened?"
Azriel's shadows became alert, rushing to crowd against the windows to watch as their favourite two people walked upto the door. Azriel smiled, putting away the report he was revising before he had to send it to Rhysand, getting ready to be bombarded with all the details from his daughter's- Hazel's- day at the daycare.
"Kaden asked me to play with him." The smile that appeared on Azriel's face when he heard his little princess's voice faded when he realised what she had said, and he stiffened, his hand hovering above his desk. He turned his head just slightly, wondering who this he was.
"And did you play with him?" The jangling of the keys sounded as Y/n opened the door, and their voices were louder when they next spoke.
"Yes mommy! We played hide and seek first, and the he pushed me while I sat on the swing."
Y/n hummed as Azriel began descending the stairs faster than his wings could have carried him.
"So you like him?"
Y/n's tone was teasing, and Azriel could hear Hazel giggling, but he did not like this conversation one bit, and he felt the need to stop it from progressing.
So he walked out, a huge smile on his face that was at odds with the way he was feeling.
"Daddy!" Hazel's eyes lit up, and her smile widened as she ran towards him, her arms splayed wide. Some of the tension in the spymaster's shoulders lessened, and he picked her up, clutching her wiggling body to his chest. He tried to kiss her cheek, which only ended up in her giggling loudly while trying to push him away because she thought he was trying to tickle her.
Y/n met Azriel's eyes and smiled wide, walking over to peck his cheek.
"I'm going to go and get changed, don't do something to get in trouble."
He huffed indignantly, meeting his daughter's eyes. "As if I do anything to get in trouble."
She giggled, clinging to him. he swayed a little, pressing a kiss to her forehead before he set her down. "Come, let's get you changed too."
Hazel nodded, reaching up to wrap her fingers around his finger. Her small fingers wrapping around his big, scarred hands always had an overwhelming amount of pride and joy coursing through him.
"So, what happened in your daycare today?"
And so began the onslaught of details from his little princess's day.
•○🌑○•
Azriel did not like going to pick his daughter up from her daycare, but only because he did not want to scare the other people who had come to pick their kids up.
But now his motive was exactly that as he stood right next to the gates, his wings tucked tightly to his back so no one could touch them.
And he would say he was succeeding in his mission. It was like there was an invisible wall surrounding him, and everyone tried to stay away from him. He just hoped the boy's parent was also in the crowd, so when they found out exactly who Hazel's father was, they would tell him to stay away from her.
Proud of himself and very nearly patting himself on the back, he waited for his little girl.
The door to the daycare opened, and all the children spilled out, running, giggling and screaming, across the playground towards their parents.
Azriel spied a head of hair the same as his, two small braids adoring her little head, and grinned slightly.
Though his grin vanished when he found her holding the hand of a boy, smiling and walking up to the gates.
The moment her eyes landed on him, she gasped, tugging on the boys hand while pointing, and Azriel could read her lips as she yelled, that's my daddy!
She let go of the boy's hand and ran- waddled, really- up to her father, who could not contain his smile.
He leaned down, his arms reaching out to grab her the moment she was close enough. She squealed as he hauled her up against himself, peppering kisses on every inch of her chubby little face.
"Did my princess miss daddy today?"
"Yes daddy!" Then, as if she just remembered, she turned her head and beckoned to the boy she had been holding hands with. The boy's eyes were wide as he stared at Azroel's huge form, his massive wings, his shadows. Azriel flared his wings a little just for the sake of it.
If possible, the boy's eyes went wider, and his steps faltered, meeting Azriel's eyes.
And Azriel knew that he was being an asshole, but he glared at the boy with no restraint.
The boy's eyes filled with tears, and he turned away, sprinting back towards the daycare, his hands held to his eyes to staunch the tears.
Azriel instantly felt guilty, and when his daughter turned to him with furrowed brows, he wanted to run to the boy and apologise. But before he could do anything, a voice spoke up.
"I am glad you feel guilty."
Azriel froze, glancing back at his mate sheepishly.
She shook her head, taking Hazel from Azriel, kissing her cheeks before setting her down. "I knew you had ulterior motives when you asked me if you could pick Hazel up today. You need to stop being such an overprotective bat."
Azriel kissed Y/n's forehead in hopes that she would let him off easy, but she glared at him when he pulled away.
"Mommy? Is Kaden angry with me?"
"No darling, he maybe just got scared. You can talk to him tomorrow and let him know there is nothing to be scared of."
Azriel couldn't stop the scoff that escaped him, and Y/n turned to stare him down.
"Sorry." He mumbled lowly before grabbing Hazel's hand. "Do you want to have some ice cream before we go home?"
Y/n opened her mouth to protest, but Hazel and her father were already running away.
•○🌑○•
General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392
Azriel Taglist: @darthdumbasss @foreverrandomwritings @kennedy-brooke @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter
#azriel x reader#azriel shadowsinger#azriel#azriel fic#acotar#acotar fandom#acotar fanfic#acotar fluff#acotar series#acotar writing#mating bond#sarah j maas#a court of thorns and roses#acotar headcanon#azriel spymaster#azriel acotar#acotar fanfiction#azriel fanfic#azriel x you
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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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Can i please request something with Azriel x reader where az is doing super masculine stuff, like he’s being so manly and it makes reader drool over him. Like he’ll giver her a hug and he just smells so fucking good or he accidentally flexes his biceps when he’s reaching over her so the rest of the day she’s latched onto his arm ( real asf ) JUST HIM BEING A MANLY MAN GOOOODDDDDD😩
Just Azriel being Azriel
Azriel x reader
A/n: just think about this made me drool I need him so bad 😭
Warnings: suggestive, fluff
Something you love about being with Azriel is how masculine he is but he also isn’t afraid to show his softer more emotional side around you
But Mother above was his masculine side hot
All he had to do was take off his shirt and you were a drooling mess
You love watching him during training
You don’t even mind how early it is, you will always get up if it means you can see Az in his element
Watching him focus and swing his sword or even stretching to get a view of his perfect ass did things to you
Nesta would tease you about observing training but you give her a smirk and remind her that she does the same thing
You always bite your lip with hearts in your eyes as you watch him strip his leathers from his sweaty skin as he gets in the bath
While you wait for him you distract yourself with a book or making a snack
When he gets out of the bath and he’s in his work clothes you can’t help but swoon at how the black tunic and pants hug his muscles to show off his perfectly toned body
You find any excuse to hug Az when he passes you
You just love clinging to him and absorbing his warmth
His scent of night-chilled mist and cedar mixed with the cologne you bought him for solstice drove you wild
When you hug him you always make sure to bury your face in his neck to catch that sweet smell of his scent and cologne mixed together
Your undoing is when he flexes his arms
Those damn biceps get you every time
You notice they flex when he scratches the back of his neck or runs his hands through his hair
You ask him to reach things for you up on high shelves just to watch his biceps flex
His ego absolutely boosts when he notices you staring btw
There isn’t a thought behind your eyes except him wrapping that thick muscular arms around your neck to hold you up while he fucks into you from behind
You find any excuse to be on his arm for the rest of the day and squeeze his bicep
Asking him to wake you every where in the house, even the bathroom
Azriel knows the effect he has on you and thinks it’s adorable that his sweet girl’s brain just empties when he does something as simple as flexing his wings
Speaking of flexing his wings…
We all know Az has the biggest wingspan meaning other things 😏 so when he turns his back to you and knows your staring he’ll exaggerate stretching his wings out, especially if you guys are out side and he has room to fully extend them
He will ask you to rub them bc they’re just so sore
Truthfully he loves the little blush that comes across your cheeks when he asks. The fact that you still get this flustered decades into your relationship makes him giddy
Corners you to make you blush on purpose since he’s way taller than you
Azriel loves when you place your hands on his chest and run your hands across his shoulders
He has you sit on his lap while he works sometimes and you lay your head on his chest to hear his heart beating
When you want his attention but know he can’t fully give it to you because he’s working you stick your hands up his shirt and trace small patterns on his skin
You also shamelessly watch his hands while he writes
Azriel’s handwriting is just so elegant and neat you can’t help it
You also can’t help but wish his fingers were somewhere else
#acotar#acotar fanfiction#acotar reader fic#acotar reader imagine#acotar imagine#azriel x reader#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x you#azriel fluff#azriel fic#azriel imagine#azriel fanfic#acotar azriel#azriel#azriel headcanons#acotar headcanon#acotar headcanons
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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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NSFW Alphabet with Azriel
note: since i did the sfw version i thought i'd do this one too! i hope it's not too bad
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
Az is definitely the sweetest after sex and he always makes sure you're okay and feel loved. He either helps you clean up or literally carries you to the bath. Also loves seeing you try to take care of him as well.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
Wings feels like an easy answer. He's definitely proud that his are the biggest even though he never shows it, as nonchalant as he acts sometimes you know he's cocky as shit under it all. He's probably proud of his physique in general too.
Is saying everything a cop out? I don't see him having a preference as long as it's you.
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
He almost always cums inside you. Loves seeing it dripping out of you too. Loves fucking it back inside you with his cock or fingers or even cleaning it up with his mouth for you, tasting you both together. Likes cumming down your throat too. And he'll probably like seeing you covered in his cum in general. As long as it was you making him cum and it ends up in or on your body he'll be happy.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
Every once in a while he'll use his shadows to pleasure himself.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
I actually think he was the last of the bat boys to lose his virginity and get any action at all but, even then, of course he has experience. He's 500 years old. He's the type to make sure he knows what he's doing as well so he definitely practiced everything to perfection.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
I don't really know positions names but I imagine he'll like to fuck you in every way he can think of. Definitely likes missionary so he can watch every little expression you make but I don't see it being much of an actual preference.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
He's usually serious.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
I'm sure he keeps it groomed enough.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
He's very intimate. Even when he's rougher, he'll be sure to throw a softer kiss in there at least at the end.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
By himself I don't think he does it that often, especially after meeting you.
Loves watching you do it. You love putting on a show for him too. Like you know he's almost home and you just decide to start without him, letting him get home to the sounds of you moaning his name. He'd tell you to finish and take a seat so he can keep watching with the best view. Then he'll fuck you and keep telling how you did so good for him, putting on such a beautiful show.
I also think he'd use this as a kind of punishment sometimes. You'd be in bed masturbating, trying to make yourself cum and begging for him because his finger, his mouth, his cock feel so much better. But he'd just watch on and cum after you do, getting up to kiss you on the forehead and tell you "next time I'll take care of you if you behave" and walk to the bathroom leaving both of you not quite satisfied.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Let me pull out a list:
dom/sub dynamics. He definitely likes being in control. I see him as a soft/pleasure dom which also comes with a praise kink (I think he'd also like being praised depending on the mood);
voyeurism, but mostly watching you;
cockwarming. Loves watching you sitting on his cock, begging him to move. Which brings me to the next one;
begging. You just sound so beautiful crying for his cock, how could he not.
orgasm control, edging and overstimulation;
breeding. That special tea means he can pump you full as much as he wants without the consequences and he'd be a fool not to take advantage of it;
blood play. On days where things go a bit wrong and he ends up covered in blood so he just winnows in directly to you and fucks you against the wall, covering you in blood too, watching you get corrupted by him (so also corruption lol). He also likes either biting or cutting you a bit and either licking the blood up or writing his name across your body using it;
knife play, truthteller the mvp;
cockwarming;
bondage. I think he likes tying you up but I don't think it would happen that often to be honest. He's very touch starved so he likes when you tear up his back or hold onto him when he's fucking you so well you forget how to breathe. But he also loves tying you up with his shadows and hearing you beg for him, maybe even let his shadows make you cum while he watches.
choking. Loves knowing you trust him enough to literally control how much air you can breathe.
biting, scratching and marking in general. This goes both ways, he loves seeing the marks he leaves on you as much as the ones you leave on him. He definitely likes a bit pain with his pleasure too so he loves when you're tearing his back up with your nails.
a little somnophilia. Loves waking you up by eating you out or being woken up with your mouth or with you straddling his hips;
wing play, almost forgot. He likes it better on softer days or days where you're a bit more in control. When you try teasing him with his wings too much in days where he's feeling rough you always end up with your hands tied up and completely at his mercy.
These are just off the top of my head but I see him being into a lot of things.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Bedroom. Az definitely likes privacy and, unless it's a quicker affair, he definitely makes a mess of the two of you so being safe in your room is just preferable for a lot of reasons. But his shadows give him endless possibilities so you two have a list of places longer than most. Also he fucks you in his dungeon sometimes and it's some of the dirtiest and best sex you've ever had.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
You. Short answer but I think he doesn't need much to want to fuck you senseless.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
I think he would do almost anything you asked of him. He'd draw the line at really hurting you. I can see him being into spanking, choking, even knife play, some rougher stuff, but never to the point of actually causing much pain.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
He could live the rest of his life happily with you sitting on his face. But of course he loves seeing you with his cock down your throat, struggling to fit everything. I think he's kind of in the middle, leaning more to giving.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
Depends on the mood and the day. I think he leans on rough most days but it truly just depends.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
I think he'd always prefer taking his time with you but, especially in the beginning of your relationship, quickies were a regular occurrence. Again, his shadows make things easier here because he can hide the two of you so he doesn't even have to worry about location all that much. I will say quickier always ended with a promise of continuing on later.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
Yes, he'll try anything you ask of him at least once. He probably tried everything he could think up before too, especially when he was younger.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
I mean he's a trained warrior so his stamina is probably insane. Let's just say he has definitely fucked you until you were dozing off quite a few times.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
I'm not sure toys exist in the acotar world but he totally would. I'm also going to consider his shadows as toys here because he uses them on you all the time in a lot different ways.
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
He's a huge tease. Since he loves both overstimulation and edging and has a filthy mouth, either combination would have you with tears running down your face, considering stealing truthteller to stab him sometimes.
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
I don't think he's that loud, maybe more when he's close. He likes hearing you more.
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
For every time he fucks you dirty and rough he'll make love to you. Well maybe every two times. He's been waiting for a mate/wife for his whole life and he intends to shower her with as much love as he has to give. Obviously I see him being really kinky and I know dirty probably doesn't even begin to describe the things this man does but I genuinely think he likes soft and intimate sex just as much.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
He's canonically the biggest since the wingspan keeps being compared to other things. And let's not forget that Nesta couldn't wrap her hand around Cassian's so do with that information as you will.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
Really high. I think even worse than Nesta and Cassian all over the House of Wind - he's just not getting caught. Maybe not as much before you but definitely after.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
He has trouble falling asleep normally so i don't think he'd fall asleep immediately. Also, like I said, he likes fucking you for hours so you probably knock out a couple minutes after laying down and he'd always fall asleep after you.
#azriel headcanons#acotar headcanon#azriel x reader#azriel smut#azriel x you#azriel fic#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar
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