#azriel
Text
An Education in Malice — Part Two
Pairing: Vanserra!Reader x Azriel
Summary: With the sharp tongue of your notorious family, you are Azriel's most tantalizing challenge yet. It only takes one small meeting before you both realize that the line between hate and desire is dangerously thin.
Warnings: 18+ SMUT /sexual content (not reader and az this time tho), swearing, eris having a soft spot for his sister, some low-blow comments and jokes about experienced trauma, mentions of sex, slut shaming if you squint
Word Count: 5.9k
← Part One
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
It was night by time Eris returned home.
The room was capped in a comfortable silence, only the crackling of the fire next to you and the soft breaths of the two hounds that surrounded you— Laney at your feet, Flint lying on the floor nearby. The couch was soft below you as you lay comfortably on it, fingers absentmindedly tracing the paper edges of the book in your hands. Despite the peace of the room, something not often found in Forest House, your mind sat heavy with racing thoughts.
Every single one seemed to drift back to Azriel.
You had already bathed, had already spent time delicately rubbing your skin raw of any scent, of any traces that might connect you back to your earlier decisions. It was a blessing, truly, that Eris had spent the day with his own affairs. You made a note to thank The Mother for the grace given to you— if you had returned home to your brother in the state that you had been, there was no doubt in your mind he would have made a decision even more rash than yours.
But it didn’t seem to help. You weren’t able to wash it off as well as you’d hoped. There was something that still lingered, something ingrained into you, into your bloodstream itself. You weren't a stranger to questionable decisions— but this, this was perhaps your worst to date.
Because there was something deep in you that now felt powerful.
Azriel was driven by duty— by a devotion to his little family that made you angry, a devotion that left him blind and prone to defensiveness. The thought that he would have to return home, to face his family knowing he’d broken some boundary, some sense of trust…. It warmed you in a way that the fire next to you never could.
A small creek echoed and from below you, Flint perked up, head lifting in alertness, ears perched and engaged. A moment later, Eris emerged, his eyes meeting yours instantly as he offered you a small, tired smile. He took in the scene before him as you closed the book in your lap.
“Eventful day?”
He let out a small sigh, perching himself on the edge of the couch opposite you. Flint laid on the floor still, watching him closely as his tail thumped lightly against the ground in greeting. "I suppose.”
There was a pause as he ran a hand through his tousled hair. "And the Shadowsinger?"
You glanced down at the book in your hands, fingers running along the edges of the pages before responding with a casual shrug. "Uneventful,” you replied, “He gave no updates.”
Eris only let out a breath in response, a single eyebrow raised momentarily.
"He’s very…reactive for a Spymaster," you added, a wry smile now playing at the corners of your lips. “You would think they’d be more collected.”
"They’re all reactive," Eris chuckled softly, his mouth turning up in a smile that mirrored your own. His gaze flickered towards the hound at your feet, and you followed his line of sight, reaching down to scratch her head gently.
"Almost more reactive than sweet Laney over here," you teased, earning a soft huff of agreement from her wet nose as she leaned into your touch.
Laney was one of the only female hounds your family owned, a true vision of regal elegance. Eris had trained her specifically for you, a hound just as stubborn and reactive as yourself— and loyal to a fault, as he had told you.
Eris chuckled once more, a sound more gentle and quiet than his normal tone. When you turned to look at him, you were met with a face lost in contemplation, eyes glazed over as his gaze remained fixed on Laney. You frowned, feeling your brows furrow as you took him in, taking notice of the dark circles below his amber eyes.
“Go rest,” you said quietly, giving him a smile as his gaze snapped to yours.
Eris gave you a small nod as he rose from his perch on the couch. Flint followed the motion instantly rising up from the floor to stand at his side. Your brother crossed the room to where you sat, taking large strides to the hallway behind you. There was a playful gleam in his eyes as he passed you, his hand reaching out to tousle your hair affectionately.
"Goodnight, sister," he said softly, hand lingering on your head for a moment before he continued walking.
He made it a few more steps before you called out to him.
"Eris," you began, turning your body to place your hands on the couch and rest your chin upon them. "I want to come to more meetings."
He turned to face you, brows furrowing in mild confusion. "Why?"
"I want to be informed.”
His eyes scanned your face. "I tell you everything I know.”
You let out a sigh, casting a quick glance toward the cracking fire. Then you looked at your brother with a small frown. “I want to be more than just a recipient of passing messages."
It was true. Although you did all the favors Eris asked of you, which extended to taking his place in meetings, he tended to avoid involving you unless it was necessary. You knew that it came from a place of protection, a sense of comfort knowing that he could perhaps save you from hurt so long as you never came near it. But you felt useless, and you wanted to do more. Collecting intel from your father’s acquaintances and listening for news was the most you’d been able to do. You didn’t want to admit that you’d been offered the taste of a newer freedom today— and you suddenly had a craving you weren’t able to smother.
The next words that came from your mouth weren’t needed. It was wrong to guilt Eris, to take advantage of the soft spot he held for you and your power. But you did it anyway.
"I am more than just a pretty face,” you told him, “Prove to them that not all of Autumn believes females to be weak."
He hesitated for a moment, lips twitching in thought.
"Okay," he conceded, "But not too often. We still need to avoid suspicion."
You gave him a smile. "Thank you," you said softly.
Your brother stared at you for a moment, his hand absentmindedly rubbing at the hound that stood next to him.
"Thank you for taking my place today," He finally said, his tone sincere. "I know that meeting must not have been entertaining, with the brute and all."
A flicker of guilt sparked in your stomach, but you shrugged it away. Quickly, it was replaced with a sense of pride. What Eris didn’t know surely wouldn’t hurt him, and despite how questionable your decisions may have been, they weren’t dangerous— and certainly wouldn’t be repeated again. You gave him a grin.
"I know how to tame beasts."
As if on cue, Laney perked up from her position at your feet, her extended neck looking over to where Eris stood behind the couch. He let out a chuckle.
"Indeed you do.” You offered you the small, almost sad, smile once more. “Goodnight.”
With a nod of acknowledgment, you watched as he exited the room, the soft sound of Flint’s paws padding after him.
You waited until it was quiet again, until the a distant creak of Eris's door closing reached your ears, before you turned yourself around on the couch. You brought a hand to rest on Laney’s head, leaning in closer as you gently rubbed your thumbs on her coat.
"Well that was fun, huh?" you murmured softly, the words directed more to yourself than to the hound in front of you. Laney nustled further into your touch.
For a moment longer, you lingered in the quiet of the room, the weight of your thoughts mingling with the gentle warmth of the fire.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
Azriel was going batshit crazy— this he knew for certain.
He was a sick male. A male now plagued with a disease he worried had no cure. He was on the brink of a certain madness that was driven by you, and you alone.
A part of him wondered if your sudden involvement had anything to do with your latest encounter with him. But it made no sense— you were at every meeting with Cassian, causing him to come home grumbling about how he was forced to deal with not one, but two pretentious cunts. Yet, it was only ever Eris when Azriel was free to receive updates.
You had always been some sort of mystery— a fact that used to drive Azriel crazy. He didn’t like unknown factors, didn’t like not knowing his threats properly. You were often shrouded away in the shadows, hidden in the affairs of the Autumn Court. In line with the Vanserra philosophies, as Azriel saw it, you, as a female, truly had no place outside of your court. The times that he did see you were all the same— some snarky comment made from your lips, a sneer at him or anyone from his family, usually Mor.
Yet, you had been there with him three weeks ago. And Azriel hadn’t been able to read you. Not properly anyway, not even when he was inside you, not even as he pushed you to completion.
And he couldn’t stop thinking about how much he enjoyed it.
You were the perfect middle ground. Not exactly an enemy— Azriel would never betray his family so deeply. But you weren’t exactly an ally either, weren’t someone he owed even an ounce of respect to— weren’t a person he needed to keep a face with. And gods did it feel good to think about how he could ruin you— how furious your brothers would be at the idea of him enjoying such intimacies with you. Eris, especially. Azriel couldn’t kill the pretentious fucker, but he could damage him in other ways. Fucking his sister seemed like a good place to start. A wonderful place for him, at least.
Not much scared Azriel. Not much at all. But this, this hunger he felt, the enjoyment he got from experiencing you, it scared him enough to instantly seek out something to distract him.
But there was an itch he wasn’t able to scratch.
And that itch looked like you, smelled like you, sounded like you–
Azriel blinked hard, trying to shake off the haze of his thoughts. His attention snapped back to the present, finding himself gazing down at the blonde kneeling between his legs. Her blue eyes met his as she sucked on him, tongue swirling around the head of his cock as she worked the base of him with a perfectly manicured hand.
She removed her mouth from his tip, hand still pumping the length of him as she looked up at him with wide eyes. A seductive smirk danced on her lips as she bit down on them. "I love sucking your cock,” she whispered huskily, “Does it feel good?"
Azriel stared at her for a moment, eyes still slightly glazed over. He bit the inside of his cheek as he hesitated. Then he nodded.
"Keep going.”
He wrapped his hand in her hair, guiding her movements as he took control, bucking into her mouth with urgency. But every thrust, though pleasurable, felt unsatisfying.
He tried for a few more minutes, tried to readjust himself on her blue velvet couch, tried to lean his head back and close his eyes as he bobbed her head on his cock— nothing worked. The image of three weeks ago was seared into the back of his eyelids, staring back at him every moment he blinked. He was stressed, frustrated, and had a boiling anger that had only continued to build up recently. Nothing seemed to be working for him, not in his duties, not in his life, not even in his sexual activities.
He tried to focus on the sensations coursing through his body, on the pleasure the female before him was offering so freely to him. But every noise she made, every movement she made, only served to remind him that he was too on edge to enjoy it. And fuck, Azriel couldn’t even remember her name. With a frustrated growl, he pulled her off with a pop, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps. She frowned as Azriel’s hands left their place on her scalp.
When he wouldn’t reach her eyes with his own, she climbed up on him, her voice a seductive purr as she offered herself to him.
"Use me however you want. Let your frustrations out."
For a moment, Azriel hesitated, his mind torn between desire and something else, something deeper. He could do it— and he could probably enjoy it. So long as she wasn’t facing him, so long as he could pretend it was...you?
With a sudden surge of energy, he pulled himself up, his hands gripping her tightly as he threw her onto the bed. She let out an excited sequel as he moved towards her, positioning her at the edge of the bed for him to slot himself behind her. As he entered her, a low groan escaped his lips, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through his body.
Her high-pitched whine echoed in the room, mingling with his grunts of exertion as he pounded into her, his grip on her hips firm— almost bruising. She let out breathy moans in response, her body arching against his as he began to move relentlessly, beginning to buck his hips into her fast and hard.
It was then he felt a cool sensation trailing up his body, disembodied whispers drowning out her words of praise.
She walks along the mortal lands, his shadows whispered, deep in the forest.
The female below him gave another whine.
Alone, Alone, Alone.
Quickly, Azriel pulled out of her, leaving her gasping for air and reaching out for him in confusion. But he was already moving, hastily gathering his clothes and rushing towards the door.
Without a word, he threw some money onto the nearby dresser, barely sparing a glance as he made his way out of the door. She turned herself around to stare at the scattered payment on the counter, a frown marring her features. With a frustrated grumble, she fell back onto the bed.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
Eris hadn’t told you much.
Beron’s men were thinly spread these days— running in and out of the court, falling into hushed whispers behind your father’s private quarters. Eris’ soldiers told him as much as they could, but with their low numbers, there wasn’t much they could do, not many places they could sneak to without notice.
Eris was still recovering from the loss, from the men he lost to Azriel and Cassian’s slaughter— to Briallyn and her ability to render them mindless attackers. Your brother wasn’t only mourning his forces, but his friends as well. All of them meant something to him, their loyalty, the bond he had formed to gain their trust. But he would never admit it, not to himself, not even to you. There was no time for mourning in the Autumn Court.
So you found yourself along the border to the Mortal Lands now, seeking out any sign of where your father’s men may be hiding out. From what you’d gathered so far, they had some areas of rest in the moral lands, areas that were hidden far enough to where they couldn’t be trailed, but close enough to Koschei if it was needed— and that was your fathers entire plan. He was getting desperate, he was getting paranoid— scared of his future, scared of Eris.
You paused, a prickling sensation crawling up your spine. There was a bristle behind you and you lifted your chin in response, taking a deep breath of the air. Something flickered within you. Without turning around, you spoke into the stillness of the forest.
"Do you always stalk the females you fuck, or am I just special?"
A voice, hard as stone, responded from behind you. "I'm not stalking you."
You turned slowly, your eyes meeting the shadowed figure emerging from the depths of the trees. Azriel stood before you, his expression flat as usual. His shadows spread out from his form, floating around him like a faint black outline.
"Then what do you call following a lady into the woods from afar?"
Azriel’s face remained stoic, save for the slight raise of an eyebrow.
"Show me a lady and then maybe I'll tell you," he said, voice dripping with a sardonic wit that set something inside you alight— something deep in your gut.
You let out a sound of surprise before you were laughing at the snark, lips curving into a smirk. Azriel tensed, his jaw tightening as the sound reached his ears.
"Oh, someone's feeling playful," you remarked with a teasing lilt, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Rhysand give you a longer leash?"
Azriel said nothing in response, his gaze locked onto you with an intensity that made you unable to stay still. A moment passed as his eyes continued to bore into yours. And then he spoke, a tone cutting through the air like a finely sharpened blade. “You’ve been avoiding me."
There was a tinge of irritation in his tone that made you want to grin.
So he’d noticed.
It was unintended at first, truly. Things were difficult in Autumn recently, with all the whispered rumors of your father planning something questionable. You found yourself only able to attend the meetings in which Eris met with Cassian and his, now, prized mate.
But in the back of your head, a part of you was amused at the idea that Azriel may begin to overthink— that a part of him would get frustrated that you were just out of reach. You weren’t exactly sure why that reaction would be warranted, but you knew it would happen nonetheless. You had an idea, now, how that pretty little mind of his worked. After all, he was a paranoid, anger-prone insomniac. Those types rarely made sane decisions. Seeing him before you now, on edge, irritable, it made it worth the wait.
You raised an amusement eyebrow.
“Have I?"
The feigned innocence in your tone burned deep with annoyance in Azriel’s gut. He grit his teeth in response.
"Yes," he replied.
You scoffed lightly. "You have a mighty inflated sense of self. I don't decide my activities based on the likes of you."
Azriel's expression remained impassive, but you swore a flicker of something passed through his darkened eyes— a hint of frustration, perhaps. It was delicious.
"You've begun to join Eris in our meetings.”
Your eyebrow quirked up in response. You said nothing. Azriel continued.
"And yet, never the ones with me.”
You tilted your head at him, eyes in a narrow-squint as you ran your tongue along your teeth. Azriel’s eyes dropped to your lips, tracing the motion. A grin grew on your face.
"Have you missed me, Shadowsinger?"
“No,” Azriel responded swiftly, “I’m suspicious of you."
"Yeah?" You crossed your arms across your chest. Once again, Azriel’s eyes fell as he took in the motion. “And whys that?”
His eyes seemed to narrow at the playfulness in your voice, but he gave no further physical reaction, simply continuing to hold your gaze as he responded. "I don't trust you.”
You rolled your eyes. "Get in line."
"You are bordering the mortal lands," Azriel stated, his voice a low rumble. "If there are updates regarding Koschei, we should be informed."
"Why?" you challenged, a note of defiance now coloring your tone. Azriel’s jaw clenched, light pouring through the trees in a way that made the shadows on his face even harsher. His own moved around him in an uneasy dance.
"Because we have an agreement."
"Uh uh," you retorted, shaking your head. "You have an agreement with Eris, not me. I don't owe you shit."
His self-control was wearing thin now. Azriel hadn’t forgotten how much you tested his patience— but the past three weeks had somehow softened the aggravation he felt around you in his own mind. He was being reminded now, in real time, why it was a good idea for him to keep his distance.
"Careful," he growled. You didn’t miss the slight twitch in his wings, still carefully tucked between his shoulder blades.
You raised an eyebrow. "Is that a warning or a threat?"
Azriel's gaze hardened. Without breaking eye contact, he shifted his weight, a predatory grace in his movements as he took a step closer.
"Both."
"Let me guess,” you said mockingly, “If I'm not an ally, I'm a threat.”
Azriel narrowed his eyes, shadows swirling around him like a storm brewing. “Yes.”
You pursed your lips, taking a step towards him. Azriel’s eyes widened slightly, a small crease forming between his brows as he traced the movement. A heat stirred within you.
"Do you fuck all your threats?"
He clenched his jaw, a muscle ticking in his temple as his shadows danced with a restrained bite. You paid it no mind as you continued to step closer to him, closing the distance between you.
"That's why you're really here, isn't it?"
Your voice was a low, sultry taunt. You were inches away from him now, looking up at him through your lashes as you reached a hand out to touch his chest.
He tensed beneath your touch. With a smirk playing at the corners of your lips, you slowly trailed your fingers up his chest. It took Azriel a moment too long before he grabbed your hand.
Your smirk widened, eyes flickering to where his scarred hand wrapped around your wrist. You met his eyes next, a deep, angry, brown that bore into yours.
"How did it feel?" you said, voice dropping to a low purr, "When you went home and looked your brothers in the face, knowing you'd done yet another thing to disappoint them?"
The remark hit Azriel in his gut, twisting in his stomach with a burning intensity that he wasn’t used to. Whether it was anger, guilt, or annoyance as the vulgarity, he wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. His grip tightened almost painfully on your hand, eyes narrowing with a dangerous flame as he stared down at you.
You didn’t flinch, didn’t tear away from his gaze. There was an addicting sense of satisfaction at having struck a nerve with him once more. You took a second to revel in the discomfort you provoked, in the way his muscles tensed at your voice– in the scent change you smelled in the air, now thick with unspoken desire and heady arousal.
Azriel leaned down, voice dropping to a heated whisper. "I've done a lot worse than you."
He released your hand from his grip. You let it fall to your side.
“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” you said with a knowing grin. "And it eats you up the same, doesn't it?"
Azriel didn’t move, didn’t so much as bat an eye at you. A moment passed. And then another. Something flickered across his face. You could have sworn his eyes were now adorned with an amusing glow, that the corners of his lips tilted upwards.
"How was it when you returned home covered in me?" he challenged, voice edged with a sweet, sweet, bitterness. “In my scent, filled with my cum?”
Shivers rippled across your skin as a cool sensation cascaded over your body. You glanced down, watching as dark shadows slithered up your form.
You took a deep breath, ignoring their ghostly touch as you raised an unphased eyebrow in response. "No one batted an eye," you replied coolly.
The shadows continued to move in Azriel’s silence, now wrapping around your neck with a possessive grip that made your heart race. You gritted your teeth at the sensation, pushing back the rush of memories that were now flooding into your mind— memories of the last time his shadows had caressed your skin, tracing every curve and dip of your body with intimate knowledge. Your eyes met Azriel’s.
"Guess you didn't leave that much of an impression.”
A low snarl escaped Azriel's lips. "Or perhaps they're used to you carrying a male's scent.”
You mocked him with a smirk, taking a step back to maintain your distance. His shadows fell from their position around your neck swiftly, rushing back to his body as Azriel's jaw clenched.
"Well now I'm getting mixed signals. Last time I was deprived of a male’s touch, now I'm a whore?"
Azriel said nothing. His teeth seemed to grind against each other with such force that you half-expected them to break under the pressure of his frustration.
"For someone who is so sensitive about his delirious crush being called a slut, you're sure eager to throw such terms around to me."
Your words dripped with a sense of sarcasm, a sense of mockery, that Azriel could almost feel. His wings flared out slightly in response.
"I never said that," was his only reply.
It wasn't an apology. No, Azriel wanted to make sure that whatever words he said were the exact ones he meant. A memory tugged at the corners of his mind, a reminder of the last time you’d stirred such a response in him, of when he had called you those very words in the heat of passion— if he could even call it that. And you had responded in kind, your body yielding to his touch with a fervor that belied any notion of innocence.
Before he could stop himself, he felt himself speak once more. "Although you seemed to enjoy it quite thoroughly when I did."
Deep in your chest, there was a flicker of flame, his words igniting a spark of something within you. You bristled at the insinuation, but dutifully ignored the comment— ignored the connotations that came with it. Instead, you hummed in response, shaking your head.
"That's the thing with you hypocrites. You never just own up to it, do you?”
With a faint smirk still playing on your lips, you took a few steps backwards, eyes trained on him and the shadows coiling around his arms.
“Always a displeasure to speak with you, Shadowsinger.”
As you turned around and began to walk away, there was a queasy feeling in your stomach, a realization that you'd do something to be in this position again, to find a way to rile him up. The thought of igniting that volatile spark between you, setting off sparks like last time—it was too tempting to resist.
But as you felt the burning of his gaze into your back, you couldn’t ignore the nagging truth. He wasn't just a fun toy to play with. Azriel was obsessive, that much you could gather from him— from his history with Morrigan, from his methods of interrogation, from his pride as a spymaster. And the way he was before you now, with the intensity that he regarded you with, it would surely prove to be a problem; a hindrance to being able to help Eris to the best of your ability.
And before your fun— before any amusement you found in Azriel— came one thing. Your loyalty to your brother.
With a steadying breath, you paused and glanced back at him over your shoulder. "Oh, and one more thing," you called out, "If you follow me again–"
You turned around completely to face him. With a hand wreathed in flame, you lazily pointed to his hands, fisted at his sides.
"I'll pick up where your brothers left off.”
Azriel's gaze flickered down to your hand, down to his own, and then back up to meet your eyes.
You brought the same hand near your lips, blowing a kiss in his direction. Azriel watched as a flame danced in the air, swirling and twirling in the shape of a small heart.
Then, without another word, you turned and left, disappearing into the forest.
His gaze followed the flickering flame as it dissipated into the cool breeze.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
You found Eris in his room, seated at his desk as he wrote on one of many scattered papers.
Eris’ room was more full of life than one would expect, adorned with a carefully curated selection of artwork that perfectly showed his refined tastes. Various books lined the shelves of his walls. He had always been quite the scholar at heart, with a keen eye for art and literature. It was a side of your brother that few outside the family knew— a facet of his personality that he shared with Lucien. It was one of the things they shared so closely, but they never talked about it, never truly had any chance to bond beyond the trauma of existing in your family.
The thought of it made your heart hurt. You pushed it away as you moved to sit at the edge of Eris’ bed, watching as he put his papers together before turning to look at you. When he met your eyes, you shook your head.
"Nothing,” you said, “But I wasn't able to get far, anyways.”
Eris lifted an eyebrow in response. “What do you mean?”
"That Shadowsinger sure knows how to keep himself busy.”
There was a tick in Eris’ jaw that told you he was more than annoyed— and that he had a few choice words he was fighting to say. But, instead, Eris simply rolled his eyes.
“Of fucking course,” He said as he leaned back in his chair. He ran a hang along his face. "Are you able to handle him?"
You resisted the urge to snicker, at both your brother’s irritation and the experiences you’ve had with Azriel. Your mind replayed the subtle giveaways that Azriel’s body had given in response to your taunts— and then continued to pour in images of how those taunts had led him to succumbing to a primal desire.
You met your brother's gaze with a smug shrug. "Yes,” you responded, “Very well, I’d say. He hasn’t killed me yet.”
Your words were a simple joke, but Eris seemed to tense at them nonetheless. You frowned, but the reaction was short-lived as he nodded in thought. His eyes flickered to yours.
"Good, because I need you to take my place.”
You blinked, your brows furrowing as you leaned forward.
"What do you mean, ‘your place'?"
Eris met your gaze casually. "Meeting with them," he clarified, his voice steady and unwavering.
“You want me to go in your place permanently?”
You knew for certain that the look on your face was nothing short of annoyance and disgust.
"For now," Eris replied evenly. "If they’re suspicious of you, give them a reason not to be."
You paused. Your mind raced with countless disembodied thoughts and images, the realization that you’d be around Azriel once more– and much more often; that you'd have to deal with them all. Deal with them and their blinding arrogance. Eris, for all of his outward appearances, had an ability to be diplomatic— to a certain extent at least, given his bite. But you wouldn’t be able to handle that. Not all the time, not without your brother. Your previous meeting with Eris, Cassian, and Nesta proved your point— one more comment from you, and you were sure the brute or his death-bride would have killed you on the spot.
You tilted your head at Eris.
"And you’ll follow the leads with your men."
He nodded.
He needed your help. And if you weren’t able to keep Azriel at arms length, the least you could do was keep him occupied enough so his wandering eyes wouldn’t travel to your brother. Now that— that was something you could do. You could ruin him.
With a deep breath, you squared your shoulders and lifted your chin.
“Fine,” you said, “I’ll do it.”
Eris gave a laugh. “How sweet that you thought you had a choice.”
You rolled your eyes as Eris stood up, brushing himself off slightly as he walked towards you.
"But you do know that I will have to tell them our suspicions eventually.”
You scrunched your face, looking up at him with a distasteful, frustrated frown.
"Why?"
He lifted his brows, baring a facial expression that mirrored that of an exasperated parent.
"Because we have an allian–”
You interrupted him with an annoyed flick of your hand.
"Alliance, yes, I know," you muttered. "Which I still don’t understand."
Eris sighed. "Y/n—"
A pent-up frustration bubbled beneath you, a simmering heat in your stomach that made you feel antsy. You did your best to bite it down, to swallow the annoyance that was suffocating you, but it was no use. You were never good at holding back your outbursts.
"No, actually, doesn’t it bother you?" you asked, your voice rising slightly. "That they think they're so much better than you, than us?"
Eris clenched his jaw, but he remained composed. This was a conversation you’d had many times before, a frustration that you’d voiced and struggled with since you learned what the emotions of hate, of contempt, truly were.
"I don’t worry myself with what night-dwellers think of me.”
You let out an angry breath.
"Yet you're put in a position to constantly defend yourself.”
Eris was losing his temper now, his voice growing strained as he fought to keep composure for your sake. “I don’t enjoy aligning myself with them, but it's what's needed.”
"I would kill Beron tomorrow if you’d let me. We could do it alone."
Eris shook his head firmly. "No," he stated, his tone left no room for argument. "That is a risk I’m not going to take. Not with you, not with our mother."
"They will never see you as anything worthy of respect, Eris.”
“Their respect is not something I need,” he snapped, "When I’m fixing this court, it won’t matter.”
"It matters to me.”
There was a strain in your voice that you didn’t notice until Eris’ eyes softened. And then he was letting out a deep breath, looking at you with the hint of a frown.
"Don’t let it.”
His voice was softer now. The same voice he’d used to soothe you during thunderstorms, the same voice that coached you through learning how to control your fire.
"I hate them. I hate that we have to cater to them because they're our only aid right now."
"The feeling is mutual. That’s what makes this work.”
“But we have reasons to hate them," you countered, “Very valid reasons.”
Eris sighed, a tired resignation in his tone. “They believe they have reasons, too.”
You fell silent, shaking your head in disbelief as you bit the inside of your cheek. That simmering anger still boiled beneath the surface— the anger of feeling wronged, of being backed into a corner and then being punished for biting.
Eris watched you closely, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.
"They do not matter," he reassured you. "They will never matter— not truly. We use them now, and you will never have to be near them again."
You nodded as Eris brought you into his chest, giving you a small hug as he held your head in his hand.
But a nagging doubt lingered in the back of your mind. Deep within the corners of your mind, deep within your chest, something told you that his words were wrong. Something old— something strong.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
a/n: who is ready for some nasty slutty feral enemies with benefits… 😋😋 ME YALL ITS MEEEE
i was worried about writing a part w no smut but these dynamics need to be built up first 😮💨 its so funny to me that both her and az are like ya... i have the upperhand here.... i am winning....
enemies who actually don’t like each other >>
enemies who didn’t “always love” each other >>
enemies to forced proximity trope >>
the future of malice! az & malice! reader going from no respect towards each other to playful flirting banter >>
permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria
malice series tag list: @going-through-shit @sidthedollface2 @justasillylittlegoofyguy @mal-adaptive-dreams @alainabooks143 @mybestfriendmademe @sfhsgrad-blog @marina468 @wonderwomanlovesyou @the-darkestminds @circe143
@starsandsins @acourtofdreamsandshadows @ysmtttty @mendes-bae
azriel tag list: @thisiskaylin
#azriel x reader#azriel x reader smut#azriel smut#azriel#azriel x you#azriel x y/n#azriel x reader angst#azriel fanfic#azriel fanfiction#azriel shadowsinger#azriel spymaster#azriel acotar#acotar fanfic#azriel angst#a court of thorns and roses#acotar fanfiction#acotar#acotar x reader#acotar x reader smut#acotar smut
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— “Do you eat pussy like that?”
☀︎ — pairing: nerd/tutor azriel x bimbo/ditzy reader
☀︎ — summary: you’re ovulating, insanely horny and thinking about putting your hands down his pants in the middle of the cafeteria
☀︎ — warnings: smut, nsfw, public display of affection, Azriel is a little stern, like a tiny bit, pussy eating, riding, ovulation
☀︎ — amara’s note: this was so fun to write, i love freaky bimbo reader, she’s so fun. also very realistic bc i too would wanna put my hands in azriel’s pants. and don’t mind the fact that this is complete nonsense. idk wtf is happening💗
series masterlist
You should’ve known azriel was an eater.
Whenever he ate, he did it like he was out of breath, inhaling his food and munching on it. He did this thing where he’d lean over his plate, shuffle food into his mouth, head tilting a little to the left, eyes closed and everything. It reminded you of the way he tilted his head when he kissed you.
He ate with such need and energy that you couldn’t help the dirty thoughts in your little brain. But it’s not even your fault, it’s his. Who the hell eats like he does?
You can't help but giggle whenever you watch Azriel eat, finding it very cute that he devours his food. It’s like, he really loves his meals, you know?
But then you remembered last night when you jumped on him while he was working on his computer. He looked so cute and focused, but his hands... so fucking hot, they looked so good. Like, seriously, how can hands be so attractive? Maybe it was the ring, maybe it was the bracelet or maybe it was because you wanted to gag on them.
You knew you were ovulating, it was no surprise. You basically turn into a succubus, hellbent on getting slutted and fucked. Azriel is there, so naturally you want him to take care of it.
I mean, who else could help you? Getting off yourself is so much work and doesn’t feel nearly as good as when he does it.
“Azzie, i missed you sosososooo much!!” you strolled towards him with a massive smile. Azriel turned around at the sound of your pink, fluffy heels klicking against the cafeteria floor.
He gave you the kindest smile as you approached him, lifting his arm so you have room to lean against him. You had different classes in the morning, so you met him for lunch. you sit next to him, scooting as close as you can. If you could, you’d sit on top of him but you were in the cafeteria so you had to settle for leaning with your face nuzzled against his neck.
There he was, eating like he always did. But today, you couldn’t stop your thoughts. He was eating too good. You wanted to tell him, so you did.
“Hi, my sweet girl. I hope you had a good lecture. What do you want to do after classes?”
You sighed. You were dangerously horny, it was a miracle you didn’t put your hand down his pant, honestly.
“Hmm, I wanna be fingered, i want my pussy ate then i wanna be fucked for hours, pretty please?” you mumbled against his neck, kissing and licking a stripe.
Azriel started coughing, nearly choking on his food.
“And, uh, another thing. D’ya eat pussy like that?” you asked with hope, a french tip pointing to his plate.
“Oh my god, uh — okay, so, baby, you — you can’t just say stuff like that in public, okay?” he exclaimed, his cheeks flushing as he glanced around nervously.
“Why not? I want my boyfriend, there's no shame in it!” you declared, pursing your glossed lips, with your hands folded over your half-exposed tits.
Azriel nervously glanced around as you put a leg over his thigh. “Please help me, i’ll totally die if you don’t.”
“Okay, sure, but why are you so — um, frisky?" Azriel asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of nervousness. A nervousness that increased as you pressed your tits against him.
“I don’t know what that means.” You replied, tilting your head slightly in confusion, your ditzy demeanor showing through.
“Um, sexually charged,” Azriel tried to explain, his hands moving mid-air in an attempt to convey his meaning.
“I’m ovulating, Azzie. aka i need you inside, like right in this moment — like in this second, now.” your nail tapped quickly against the dining hall’s table, a sign of your impatience. “Please stop talking nonsense, i don’t know about sexually charged, m’just horny.”
“Right, right. I read about that. Okay, let’s go. Do you want my dorm or your apartment?” Azriel questioned as he stood up, lifting you from the bench.
That little move of him lifting you without hesitation or struggle made your jaw drop. Your hands automatically moved towards his belt, and a sweet expression crossed your face as you stared up at him, completely flustered.
“Yours.”
Azriel stopped you before you could bend down and blow him infront of people. He led you by the hand, your thoughts completely cleared, except for one thought.
You were SO gonna get it.
—
He’s so gentle. The way the flat of his tongue drags between your folds is ungodly to stay the least, the lewd squelching of his tongue flicking your glistening, throbbing clit.
“You okay? Holy shit you weren’t lying, you’re incredibly wet,” his fingers come to touch you, almost slipping in with no difficulty.
“mm-yeah, m’so good. J’st keep your mouth riiiight there,” you hummed, dragging his head back as you shifted his head a little to the left. He inserted one finger, then added another before curling them, just like he was taught.
You felt his tongue press against your clit at the same time, your hands gripping his shoulders in order to not writhe away.
“ ‘s really s-sensitive, ‘nd it feels so, so good, az.” He flushes, cheeks reddened at your sweet, whines and moans.
“so sweet.. you’re so sweet, baby.” he doesn’t stop when he speaks. instead, he continues to lap at your cunt, his face evidently beginning to get wet from the mix of your slick and his saliva.
It’s so messy, but he’s loving every second of it even when your juices wet his chin and entire mouth. You’re so close to sliding off his bed with the way you’re writhing away. But it’s like you have to! If he keeps his work up, you’ll cum all over his face in seconds.
“Stop tryna run away, you haven’t even finished yet.” He drags you closer to him by your thighs as he locks his arm around your legs.
“A—azzie! s-slow down, ‘m gon-gonna cum too quick if you keep goin’.”
He doesn’t slow down, and he definitely doesn’t stop. Instead you feel his tongue lap your cunt as he sneakily bring his hand up to your clit rubbing it softly.
When you cum, he just moves you on top of him with no warning. You had been begging to ride, whining about how you’d feel fuller if you were on top. As much as Azriel loves you, your whining was making him wanna check you.
“There. Now will you be good and ride? Hm?” He squeezes your waist as you put your hands on his toned stomach with a smile.
“Mm-hm, I’ll ride.”
Azriel is left damn near paralyzed after. He is sweating, trembling, dying.
You on the other hand couldn’t possibly be more content. He had given you a good dicking :)
🏷️: @ithan-holstroms-girl @whatdoyxumean @honeybeeboobaa @to-be-written @sidthedollface2 @stasiereads @amara-moonlight @thescooby-gang @linoisqt @mischiefmanagers @tortured-artists @scoobies @caroline-books @kalulakunundrum @meshelleexplosionmurder @danikamariewrites @clairebear08 @redbleedingrose @jeannineee @nocasdatsgay @v3lv3tf0x @liati2000 @teenageeggscissorslawyer @impossibelle @stonerpersona @dreamlandreader @djaaaa @callmeblaire @thelov3lybookworm @polli05927 @ahitsalyssa @evergreenlark @thegirlintheshadows101 @saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @readychilledwine @daycourtofficial @azriels-shadowsinger @sapphicmsmarvel @hungryforbatboys @justasillylittlegoofyguy @luvmoo @emryb @meritxellao @mochibabycakes @artists-ally @azzieslittlebunny @berryzxx @sweetshifter @lilah-asteria @hannzoaks @throneofsmut
if ur username is in bold, i couldn’t tag you ;(
#talkswithamara#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acotar x reader#acotar imagine#azriel#azriel fluff#azriel fic#azriel imagine#azriel fanfic#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acomaf#azriel acotar#az x reader#azriel x reader#azriel x yn#azriel x bimbo reader#azriel x fem reader#azriel x y/n#azriel x reader fluff#azriel x you#the sessions series#acotar x bimbo reader#acotar series#acotar fanfiction#acotar fanfic
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I’ll Look After You
Pairing: Azriel x Reader
Summary: just needed a little hurt/comfort with my man bc I’ve been in such an Azriel mood lately. Azriel comes back from a mission all beat up and Reader forces him to lay back and be taken care of.
Word Count: 1.7k
You were well aware that your mate was amazing at his job. The best of the best, especially with the additional benefit of his shadowsinger abilities.
This knowledge, however, did not stop you from anxiously wringing your hands every time you knew he was going off on a dangerous mission, especially when he was going alone.
Especially when he said he would be back by now and he still wasn’t.
Normally, you were quite quiet and reserved, not usually one to pick a fight, especially with your High Lord. Unless, of course, your mate was in danger. Then, all bets were off.
You stormed into Rhysand’s study, where he and Cassian were deep in conversation. Rhys looked at you with resignation, and you knew that he was well aware of why you had come bursting through his door without so much as a knock.
“He’s not back yet,” you choked out.
“I know,” Rhysand said. He was using his High Lord voice, the one that he used to assure everyone that he had everything under control.
“Why isn’t he back yet?” You felt your anger and your panic rising, heard your voice crack.
“I don’t know,” Rhysand said gently. “But--”
“But nothing,” you snapped. “Go get him.”
Rhysand raised his eyebrows, clearly saying without saying, this is how you’re speaking to your High Lord right now?
But he knew you well enough that he didn’t seem truly offended.
Cassian finally spoke up, his eyes softening as he looked at you. “You know we can’t do that. Nobody can know where we have him snooping around. The only reason he went alone is because we can’t hide in the shadows.”
You were about to snap at him, too, when you felt a tug through the bond. “He’s here,” you practically shrieked, sprinting out of the room and out to the balcony where you knew he landed as fast as you could.
It was an effort to hold in your gasp as you saw him staggering towards the doorway, one hand clutching his side, his armor bloody, his wings drooping behind him.
You flung open the door, and wrapped your arms around his neck as gently as you could. “Az,” you said, choking on your sob.
Despite his injuries, he wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed the top of your head. “I’m okay, baby,” he rasped.
You had to bite down your comment that, no, he certainly was not. You put an arm around his waist and he slung his free arm over your shoulder. He was still clutching his side as you led him to your shared bedroom.
Rhysand and Cassian were in the hallway as you passed. “Do you need any--” Cassian said.
The glare you shot them both silenced him.
Azriel chuckled, and then groaned, like it pained him. “You weren’t picking a fight with the High Lord and the commander of armies over me, were you?”
“Of course not,” you lied through your teeth.
“Mmhmm. Sure,” Azriel said, his voice dripping with amusement. That, at least, was a good sign.
When you finally reached your room, you led him into your bathroom, helping him sit on the side of the massive tub.
You started running the water, and then stepped back to survey him. “How bad is it, really?” you said, quietly, trying to keep your tears at bay. That wouldn’t do anybody any good right now.
“I’ve had worse,” he grunted.
Raising an eyebrow, you looked pointedly at where his scarred hands were still clutching his side. The fact that he’d been in worse pain before was not very reassuring to you right now. “Do you need the healer?”
“No,” he said, shooting you a soft smile that you were sure he saved only for you. “I just need you.”
You sighed, cursing yourself for the fact that he could still make you blush at a time like this. You crossed over to him and gently tugged on his armor, pulling it off of his chest. He sucked in a breath sharply and your eyes darted to his. “I’m fine.” he groaned. “Just rip it off.”
You absolutely would not be doing that. Taking your time, wincing at every hiss and grunt he made, you eventually got all of his armor off, until he was sitting naked before you, and you were able to survey his injuries.
His side was clearly the worst of it, an open, bleeding wound near his ribs. But it was already starting to heal up a bit. You got out a washcloth and held it under the warm water before lightly dabbing his side, cleaning it as gently and quickly as you could.
Your mate’s eyes watched your every movement. “Are you okay?” he asked, quietly.
“Me?”
Azriel smiled faintly. “I know how you get when I’m out longer than expected.”
You finished cleaning the wound on his side, and took one of his hands in your own, setting his forearm on your lap, starting to clean a cut there. “How would you know how I get?”
“You think Cassian and Rhys don’t tell me? And even if they didn’t, I know you well enough, my love.”
“You cannot honestly be worrying about me right now,” was all you could say, looking at him pointedly, gesturing with the bloody rag in your hand. You wouldn’t tell him that you were okay, not when it was a lie.
“Of course I am,” he said quietly. You were focused on his wounds, but you could hear the smile in his voice.
“Well, stop,” you said, you tried to make it sound light and teasing, but it didn’t come out quite right.
He laughed, the sound deep and booming. “Stop? Worrying about my mate? Absolutely not.”
You sighed, surveying him. Many of the smaller cuts and bruises he had arrived with were already healed, and the bigger ones you had cleaned were starting to, now that they were cleaned, but it still wasn’t as fast as usual. Some of these cuts were deep.
The look on your face must have spelled out all your fears to your mate. He gently took your chin in his hand, tilting your face upward, his eyes so full of love and reassurance as he gazed at you. “I’m okay. I promise.”
Words wouldn’t come, stuck in your throat. He gingerly guided your face to his, his hand still on your chin, tilting your mouth up to meet his. Azriel kissed you slowly and deeply, as if trying to prove to you that he was in fact, feeling okay.
He moaned into your mouth, hands roaming down your body. You broke the kiss, narrowing your eyes at him.
“What?” he smirked. “I told you, I’m fine.”
You cocked your head to the side, gesturing to the bathtub, which was now full with warm water. “Get in.”
A choked, incredulous laugh. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. You came home bleeding and limping. You need to rest before you do any of that.”
He groaned in frustration, but obeyed, gingerly lowering himself into the tub, his wings stretching out behind him.
When he was settled, he cocked his head to the side. “Does this please you, my love?” His voice was velvet, his eyes sparkling, a side of him you couldn’t have imagined before you knew you were his mate.
Silently, you retrieved another washcloth, lathering it with soap and water, before rounding behind him, cleaning his back in slow, gentle circles.
He tilted his head back slightly, clearly enjoying himself. You smirked, even though he couldn’t see it.
Once you were done washing his back, you tossed the washcloth into the water in front of him with a splash. “Keep cleaning,” you ordered.
“What, you’re not going to help me?” Az teased, reaching for the cloth and running it up and down his arms.
He moaned suddenly as your hands went to his back, massaging his tight, sore muscles. You kept going and going until all the knots were gone, eliciting filthy sounds from Azriel’s mouth.
Azriel sighed contentedly when you were finally done, and you wrapped your arms around his chest from behind him, resting your head on his shoulder. “I was really scared,” you finally admitted, your voice barely a whisper.
He held onto your arms, leaning his cheek into yours. “I know, baby. I’m sorry.”
You buried your face into his neck. “You don't have to be. I’m just -- I’m really glad you’re okay,” you mumbled against his skin.
He tapped your arm, and you stood up so he could get out of the tub. You handed him a towel, and he wrapped it around his waist, eyeing you carefully.
“Come here,” he murmured, taking your hand and leading you into the bedroom. He dropped the towel before sliding into the bed, pulling you along with him. You settled into his embrace, your head resting on his chest as he traced small circles on your shoulder with his thumb. “I’ll always fight my hardest for you. To come back home to you.”
You made a strangled sound, pressing your face into his chest.
Holding you tighter, he said, “Thank you for taking care of me.”
“Sorry I got bossy,” you mumbled into his skin.
He laughed, kissing the top of your head. “You know I love it when you get a little bossy.”
You lifted your head up finally to smile up at him.
Smiling sweetly, he took your chin in his hand again, bringing your mouth to his in a kiss that started out gentle and loving, but quickly turned heated.
Gripping your back, he smoothly flipped you over in one movement, so he was hovering over you, his naked body pressing into yours.
You couldn’t help the way your body reacted to him, heat flooding through you. “Are you sure you’re up for--”
“I’m sure,” he growled into your skin, kissing sensually down your neck.
He grinned at you, sliding his hands beneath your clothes, ready to pull them over your head. “You’ve made me feel so much better.”
#acotar#acotar fic#acotar one shot#acotar x reader#azriel one shot#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel acotar#azriel#azriel fluff
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Not Again - Part Nine
Summary: Y/n is desperate to try and get home, willing to face near death again to try if she must. Azriel is not willing to let her risk herself, and fortunately neither is the rest of his family.
Warnings: she’s a little angsty
Series Masterlist
-Part Nine-
“You’re not trying it again,” Azriel snarls, arms crossed over his chest, “We don’t even know what went wrong in the first place, you could’ve died.”
Y/n sighs, rubbing her temples, they’d been at this for hours now, surrounded by the inner court. So far, no one seemed to be on her side, least of all Azriel. As soon as the words had left her mouth he’d been seething, that quiet calm mask replaced by burning rage.
“Give me the book of breathings and I’ll figure it out,” Y/n snaps back, bearing all of her teeth at him, “I must have misread something. Maybe the ancient busy body will have answers for me.”
“You’re not going anywhere near that book!”
“Az, chill out,” Cassian says, gripping his brother’s arm, “Let’s all calm down and think for a damn moment.”
Y/n slumps into her seat, glaring at Azriel as he paces on the other side of the table, the only thing keeping them from lunging at each other and tearing out each other’s throat. He glares right back, shadows whipping around him like they might grab her and strap her to the very seat she sits on to keep her from trying the spell again.
“Azriel’s right,” Feyre sighs, “That book was holding you hostage, and the book of breathings has done the same to me, I don’t want to risk you getting hurt again, or worse.”
“I’m not a child in need of your protection,” Y/n says, ice cold and guarded.
“No,” Amren says then, “But you are stranded and in need of our help. We will not risk ourselves because you want to foolishly run head first to your death.”
“Y/n, it’s in your best interest to take it slow, and let us help you,” Rhys chimes in, “I felt something when you opened that portal, something dark, powerful. There’s something out there, and whatever it is took an interest in out dear Y/n here.”
Y/n’s shoulder lock up, and Azriel’s glare turns to ice, “You already knew that didn’t you?”
“What was it?” Nesta leans on the table, steely eyes staring directly into Y/n’s soul.
“I don’t know,” she says, holding that piercing gaze, not backing down an inch, “I heard something, when I was trapped. Something cold and wicked.”
“What did it say?” Azriel demands, stepping closer to the table that separates them, multiple times in the last hour she’d been half tempted to leap across that table and fight it out with teeth, fists, and daggers, “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
“Oh please.” She rolls her eyes, and she can see the exact moment it crawls beneath his skin, he looks half tempted to strangle her, “It’s kind of hard to talk when you’re to busy shoving your tongue down my throat.”
“I’m sorry,” Mor says, looking at Az with wide eyes, “What?”
“Listen, princess.” Azriel leans on the table, ignoring Mor, ignoring the rest of his family who look between the two with varying degrees of alarm, “I don’t give a shit about this whole, I’m tougher than the world act, you’re scared and I know it, I can fucking see it, so go ahead and tell me what the fuck it said.”
She practically hisses at him, leaning forward in her seat, arm in casual reach of the blade at her thigh, “You don’t fucking know me, shadowsinger.”
“That’s enough,” Feyre snaps, “if you two can’t be civil together one of you can get out.”
Azriel looks ready to argue but one sharp glare from his high lady has him backing down. He turns on his heal, taking three long strides away from the table, putting distance between them like it would cool the raging flames in their eyes.
“What did you hear?” Feyre asks calmly, that air of dominance in her voice, High Lady, a queen in her own right.
Y/n holds her head high, meeting Feyre’s eyes, she may not be a queen but one day she would be, and she would bow to no one, “It told me to pay the price, gods killer’s kin.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Cassian asks, “Why can’t these things just say what they mean?”
“When my mother banished the gods to that hell realm to die,” Y/n says, “It would seem not all of them did. And whoever survived is demanding the price my mother was supposed to give.”
“And what price is that?” Azriel’s voice is deadly soft.
She could feel the anger radiating off of him, not necessarily at her, not necessarily not at her. He was angry that she’d nearly died, that she was willing to do it again if it meant going home. He was angry at her for being so damn stubborn that she wouldn’t listen, that she wouldn’t let him play protective fae male. She was angry to, so gods damned angry at the Wyrd for handing her this fate. For bringing her here in the first place, for putting her in their lives, in his, only to take her away again.
“My life.”
Azriel felt the words echo through him, bouncing around in his skull, each syllable cracking another piece of him until he was on the verge of shattering. My life, my life, my life, her life, her life, her life, her, her, her. Sharp stabbing pain in his chest like each word was a ash arrow through his sternum and directly into the heart beneath.
“No.”
“You don’t-“
“No,” he growls again, gaze matching Y/n’s, fire and ice pushing and pushing against each other to create a storm.
“We don’t know what this thing is,” Rhys interjects, “If it’s an actual god like thing, one of Quinlann’s Asteri, or something else entirely. Amren will search that dreadful book for answers about the gate. You two, will sit and calm the fuck down, and the rest of us will get back to work.”
The High Lord’s voice held an air of finality, no room to argue, even Y/n slumped in her seat, letting some of the cold fire go out. Amren is up and out the door as soon as Rhys stands, grumbling something beneath her breath about ungrateful little girls that has Y/n glaring between her shoulders like she was imagining that dagger strapped to her thigh buried between them.
“It will be alright, Y/n” Feyre lays a gentle hand on the female’s shoulder, “We will get you home, and if this god wants a fight, we will give it one.”
Azriel notes the shattered and broken look in Y/n’s eyes as she nods at his High Lady. He is so busy examining each of her motions that he doesn’t notice his family file out, doesn’t notice the concerned eyes and subtle glances between him and the female before him. She won’t look at him, he can tell she is actively trying not to meet his gaze. Fine, if she wanted to play the silent game, he’d play it and he’d win. They were going to have this out one way or another.
He sits across from her, arms crossed over his chest, eyes searching her face for any motion, but she sits still, that absolute fae stillness that looks like she isn’t even breathing. If it wasn’t for the steady beat of her heart in his ears he would think she wasn’t.
They sat there in silence, neither willing to be the one to break first. She stares at the wall beyond him, he stares at her face.
The tension in the room is suffocating, Azriel’s shadows are the only movement, the only sound, whispering in his ears, she’s upset, help her, comfort her. He wants to scream, to tell them to mind their own business.
He knows she’s upset, he knows and there’s a part of him that wants to take her into his arms and hold her, to tell her it’s alright and that he’d help her figure it out, but there’s an even bigger part of him that wants to keep yelling, to grab her and shake her till she stops and actually listens to him. He wishes he was like Rhys, that he could go into her mind and show her what she had looked like, trapped in that spell, he wishes he could show her the terror in his heart. How could she be so gods damned stubborn that she would even think to try it again, to put herself through that again, to put him through it again. Because if she did it, he would be right there beside her, and he would burn all over again to keep her safe.
Both of them were to stubborn to break first, they sat there for nearly an hour before Azriel stood, that far away look in his eyes that meant Rhys was talking to him in his head. He didn’t say anything to Y/n, only sending her a warning look before stalking out the doors and jumping from the balcony. She was half tempted to follow, to take her talons directly into his back, to get the fight she’d been itching to have with him. Instead she sat there, staring at that same blank space on the wall, mind spiraling down and down into that dark portal that ate up the Walking Dead book.
She wishes she still had it, that she could figure out how it all went wrong. She was so sure she’d copied those marks perfectly, spelling out the name of her home meticulously. Orynth, Terrasen, she’d learned how to write out the name in the Wyrd marks as a child, she knew it like the back of her hand. It should’ve worked, the gate should’ve worked.
When it had opened, she swore she could feel home on the other side, lands of pine and snow, the smell of the kings flame blooming across the mountains. It was right there, just beyond her reach, and that was when she’d felt it, when there had been something else, something dark that took her mind and whispered those words. Which god had survived, which one now demanded her death, she wasn’t sure. Quite frankly she didn’t want to know.
Whoever it was, they were angry, angry at her mother for what she had done, for the deaths of the other gods, and for that, they would take the one thing her mother cherished beyond anything else, Y/n. They would take her, using the power in her blood to make the lock that would bring them home, squeezing every last drop of life from her till there was nothing left.
Azriel knew he was going to walk into the River house and be bombarded, the question was, who would get to him first.
“Who needs a babysitter now?”
He glares at his brother, “Shut up, Cassian.”
“No, no, I’m going to enjoy this,” Cass grins at him, “I’m surprised you actually came down here, with way you two were staring each other down I was sure there would be some rough-“
Azriel sends him a warning snarl, “Watch it.”
Cassian only grins wider, holding his hands up in mock surrender, “I’ve never seen someone get under you skin like that. I’m surprised it took this long for, how’d did she put it? For your tongue to end up down her throat.”
Azriel was seconds away from sending his fist into his brothers face when Rhys opens his office door, “I’m surprised you’re not in a bed right now.”
Cassian’s roaring laughter fills the hall way and Azriel doesn’t hold back the fist he sends straight into Cassian’s stomach. His brother breathlessly laughs, even as he doubles over. Rhys’s eyes sparkle in amusement and Azriel sends him a look that dares him to say anything else.
“Why did you call me down?”
The High Lords humor vanishes just like that, it’s enough to even sober up Cassian, “Amren found something.”
No, no, no, no, “What is it?”
“The book of breathings was very talkative, it kept telling her that the storyteller should have heeded its warnings,” Rhys sighs, leaning against the door way, “With enough snarling Amren was able to wring a solid answer out of it.”
Azriel felt like throwing up as he asked, “What did it say?”
Rhys gives him a look, one that seems pleading, “That the Wyrd brought her here for a reason, as a gift to her, and it was angry at her for not accepting it.”
Cassian sighs, “What does that mean. What gift?”
There’s a moment where Azriel thinks Rhys won’t answer. Whatever it was, Az isn’t completely sure he wants to know. Whatever that wretched book had to say, it couldn’t be good.
“Fate brought Y/n here as a gift to her,” Rhys says again, taking a deep steadying breath, “Brought her here as a gift to her and her mate.”
Everything went quiet, the air, the best of his heart, quiet. No sound, no breaths, nothing. Just that word, mate, her mate.
“Az.”
He didn’t know who said it, Rhys, Cassian, his shadows, he didn’t know, he couldn’t hear beyond the echo of the word, mate, mate, mate, mate.
“Who?” He chokes on it, drowns in it, mate, mate, mate, “Who is it?”
He could feel it, like a tendril of shadow that reaches far far above the city, to the red cliffs, to the house carved into it’s side.
Rhys gives him a pitying look, “Brother, who do you thi-“
A soft tug, on that shadow, so faint it feels like it slips between his fingers.
“Who?” He pleads, breaking beneath it, mate, mate, mate, “Please.”
He collapses beneath the weight, knees digging into the soft plush rug beneath him. His brothers don’t move, they let him get crushed beneath the word.
“The book said it was a gift,” his brother whispers, “a gift to the storyteller and the shadowsinger.”
Mate, mate, mate, mate. That tendril of shadow firmly in his grasp, and on the other side, sits a storm of ice and fire. His mate, sits on the other side, high above him in the House of Wind, mate, mate, mate, mate, mate.
She is his mate.
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Taunts and Tension
Based on this request!
Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader
Summary: Reader and Azriel go on a spy mission and come back a little more touchy than usual?
Warnings: Sexual tension | Briefest mention of a threesome | innuendo of oral (m receiving)
2.8k words
“You have got to be kidding me,” The Shadow Singer grumbled as the High Lord told him we’ve been partnered for his next mission.
“Unfortunately, he’s not,” I huff to the tall male, just as annoyed as him. “Rhys with all due respect, I work alone,” Azriel contended and I scoff. “Does that apply to your love life too?” I quip but they both ignore me. “I know Az, but Eris likes her, he’s more likely to play by our rules if we use her as bait,” Rhys says. “It’s just a meeting, the both of you only have to get along for a few hours,” He hums and I roll my eyes, I couldn’t refuse the offer, he was paying me double for this. “Fine,” Azriel uttered, the fool agreed for free.
“Good, you leave at sunset,” The half-fae instructs then quickly dismisses the both of us when his mate comes into his office, a babbling Nyx in her arms. “Hi sweetie,” I coo at the two-year-old as I pass Feyre on the way out. “Auntie!” He exclaims with a bright smile. The High Lady waved at me and I returned it. “Be careful on your mission tonight,” She advises and I brush her off. “It’s just a meeting, nothing to be worried about.” I smile. “Oh, I wasn’t referring to your assignment,” Her eyes flick to Azriel and my lips form an ‘o’ shape in realization. She chuckled then gave me a wink as the Shadow Singer passed by me, muttering a curse under his breath. I return her smile then nod in a farewell and go the opposite direction down the hall.
The Spring Court was a lot duller than I had expected. Sure the flowers were in bloom and the sun still seeped through the trees but, there was no vibrancy to the colors. “Feyre really did a number on this place,” I hum, looking out at the deserted Court. It still held some beauty, the crystal clear lakes with lily pads floating heedlessly, the rolling hills, and flower fields.
“I kind of feel bad for him,” I mutter, bending down and plucking a daisy from a patch sprouting out the trunk of a maple tree. “Don’t,” Azriel huffed. We were on the border between Spring and Autumn so there was a weird merging between wildlife, the magnolia trees slowly shifting into maples, bunnies sectioned from foxes, and lush forests morphing into rustic woods.
“Are we early or is he just trying to make an entrance?” I sigh, already bored. “Early,” He replies and my shoulders sag. “Can you only respond with one-word answers?” I narrow my eyes on the Shadow Singer. He smirks. “No,” He says and I grit my teeth, looking down at the daisy in my hands.
We go silent for a moment. I stare out at the dusky sky, the last of the sun slipping below the hills. He seems content to continue staring at me, much to my dismay. I didn’t know what for, it’s not like he had to keep an eye on me, and there was nothing I could do that his shadows wouldn’t report back to him, they were often all over me, seemingly out of his control when I was around.
“What?” I snap my head back to him after only a minute, his stare becoming too physical, like I could feel the way his eyes traced my features. “Why are you dressed like that?” He tilts his head. I look down at my gown with creased brows. It was a silk slip, a rich mocha color. I look at what he’s wearing, his usual leathers. “It’s a meeting Azriel, we’re not battling warriors,” I remark. “Is it because we’re meeting with Eris?” He tilts his head. I cross my arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I bite back. “That you’re trying to impress him,” He surmises.
“Nuh-uh!”
“Nuh uh?” He mocks. “That’s your defense?” The brunette scoffs and my frown deepens, leaning against the tree at my back. “I wore the dress ‘cause I didn’t wanna change, okay?” I explain with narrowed brows. “And it’s not my fault he admires me,” I add. “Not that you know the feeling,” I murmur under my breath but of course, he heard it.
He takes a menacing step forward, shadows turning sporadic around him and I roll my eyes on the dramatics of it— anyone else would’ve been begging for forgiveness just by looking into the darkness of his eyes. “What was that?” His hand comes to my chin, forcing my head toward him. I jerk out of his hold with a grimace.
“I said you don’t know what it’s like to be admired, or do you need a reminder that you’ve been chasing the same girl for five hundred years?” This time I was the one to take a step forward, my chest nearly pressed to his. “Because newsflash Az, she doesn’t want you—” I start but his hands come to my wrists and pull them up above my head, pinning me to the tree, his other hand on my hip so I can’t thrash.
His nostrils flared, eyes ablaze and I nearly laughed. “You’re constantly teetering on that edge huh? Can’t ever keep your temper in check?” I arch a brow up at him, my smirk only widens as I watch him grit his teeth. He knew what I meant. Knew that he pounced on anyone who damaged his fragile ego, and talked down on his precious family, gods forbid I mention Morrigan. His hold moves from my waist to my neck, wrapping his large hand entirely around my throat, softly squeezing.
“You’re choking me,” I whisper out and the sadistic fuck has a smile on his face. “You seem like the type to be into that,” He presumes and he wouldn’t be far off if this was a different situation. I flush pink at the idea, it’d be a lie if I said I hadn’t imagined the Spymaster on top of me more than once. My cheeks were burning hot, I was beyond embarrassed, and slightly turned on.
“Not so talkative now, are we?” He was so close, so close his body was pressed to my own, our breath shared as his face hovered above mine, cauldron damn his height.
“Let me go,” I pull at my wrists but his grip is iron, and maybe my attempts were halfhearted because, in all honesty, I didn’t want to leave this position one bit. “You learn your lesson yet? Or are you gonna keep being a brat?” He hums and arousal pools in my panties. I quickly glamour the scent, praying he didn’t recognize it before I got the chance. “Fuck you,” I seethe, continuing my futile attempts to escape. “Such a filthy mouth, you wanna put it to better use?” He asks and if I wasn’t red before I definitely was now. “In your dreams,” I hiss. “Oh love, it is,” He smirks, and my brain stutters. What’d he just say?
My pointed ears perk before I can reply, noticing an unfamiliar pair of footsteps. Not Eris.
“Someone’s coming, kiss me,” I say with a rushed tone. “What?” His hand loosened around my neck. “Just—” I don’t finish and interrupt myself by lifting onto my toes and crashing my lips against his.
He seems taken aback for a moment then to my surprise, leans into it. I melt at the feeling. He was tentative at first but once I showed him this was what I asked for he seemed almost, hungry. His hand slips from my throat and cups my jaw instead, calloused thumb pulling at my bottom lip and forcing them open. I can’t help but obey his silent command, parting my lips wider so he can capture me fully. His mouth seals over mine yet again and my stomach ties into knots, the thrumming sensation in my ribcage making me realize this was a point of no return.
His tongue explored my mouth like it was his and his alone, he was devouring me and I savored every moment. An energy buzzed between us, my wrists still pinned up by his hold, but I wasn’t any less greedy with my lips. I wanted him to taste me, to memorize me, and never forget the feel of his lips on mine, I wanted it to hurt when he had to pull away. Languid movements with his tongue turn into messy, impatient strokes, needing all of me right then and there— and I would’ve given it to him if not for that pair of footsteps returning, so much closer this time.
“What’s going on here?” A gruff voice demands answers and Azriel hesitantly detaches, like he was unwilling.
It takes me a moment to even open my eyes, gods if he’s got me this paralyzed over just a kiss who knows how much more I could take? Azriel lets go of my wrists and I regain consciousness.
“I’m sorry Officer,” I put on my most innocent smile. The male in front of me was Autumn Court patrol, lower in rank based on the patches on his arms. “What’s an Illyrian doing so far from home?” He snarled the word like it was a curse. “We’re traveling sir,” I say, intertwining my hand with Azriel’s. He stiffens at the action as if I didn’t just have his lips on mine. “Travelin’?” The officer scoffs. “Out here?” He hums. “Yes sir, it’s our honeymoon,” I grin wildly, trying to capture the excitement of newlyweds as I hold our linked hands up.
The officer raises his brows a fraction, he was buying it. He was visibly older, you had to be ancient as a fae to start having wrinkles and this guy had plenty. “You know, I feel like I recognize you,” He hums and I swallow thickly. It was more likely for Azriel to get recognized out of the two of us, so the Shadow Singer didn’t take his chances and stuffed his face into my neck, lining kisses from my shoulder to my jaw. My hand goes into his hair, weaving my fingers into his soft, dark locks as I continue carrying on the conversation.
“Really? What from?” I tilt my head, resting my luck. “Not quite sure…” He thinks for a moment. “Ah, forget it probably just confusing you with my granddaughter, she’s lovely like you,” He says and I giggle light-heartedly. “That’s sweet to hear,” I smile. “Alright you kids be safe, perhaps find an inn somewhere,” He starts his trek once more. “Thank you, officer!” I call to him and he gives me a wave.
I nearly cackle as Azriel pulls away from my neck, my lipgloss smeared along his lips. I reach up and wipe it away with a teasing smile. “Not much of a spymaster if I’m the one saving you, hm?” I say, hands cupping his cheeks. “You were the one distracting me in the first place,” He defended, crossing his arms and I snicker. “Awh, poor Illyrian baby is pouting 'cause I’m better at his job,” I taunt, his gaze on my lips as I talk.
“Well, that was quite the show,” A familiar, smooth voice intones from a short distance away and I whip my head towards the figure, leaning against a tree with an unmistakable foxlike smirk on his face. “How long have you been standing there?” Azriel questions and it seems like the Heir might laugh. “It’s truly a wonder how your shadows didn’t find me, though I suppose they’re preoccupied at the moment,” He gestures to the ground beneath me where they were pooling at my feet, flicking up and twining at my ankle every now and again, completely forgetting what their job was in my presence.
The meeting went smoothly, Azriel was a bit on edge with the lack of his Shadows but other than that Eris complied easily, he seemed to have something up his sleeve but we’d worry about that at a later date, we were only ensuring his loyalty was still with us.
He updated us on some information including his father, the two males briefing over a plan to take down Beron, and as I stood there I realized I was just for show, a shiny jewel for Eris to look at, keep his attention before he got the idea that he could survive on his own. Not that I minded being looked at by the Heir, he was quite pretty— hel, I’d be lying if I said I haven’t dreamed about both the males in front of me, at once, more than once.
Azriel shadow-walked us back to the House of Wind when we were finished, or rather when he was finished. I probably could’ve stayed a few more minutes just to admire Eris in the pale moonlight, but my plans just had to be foiled by the Shadow Singer.
Az flew me the rest of the way into the house bridal style— since you couldn’t winnow straight in due to the wards. His hold on me felt more familiar than usual, and when he put me down he didn’t step away so neither did I.
“Hey,” Cassian said from the dining table, a mouthful of food muffling his voice. We both swivel towards the male, sat next to Nesta who couldn’t be bothered to look up from her book to greet us. “How’d the mission go?” The brunette at the table said once he swallowed his food. We both stiffen, the memory of that kiss has been replaying in my head over and over since it ended and yet it felt odd for anyone else to bring it up.
“Uh, went nice…” I shrug. Nesta looks up from her page, eyes piercing as they read me like the chapters in her book. “Really?” She intervenes and I nod. “Yup, just, so normal,” Azriel blurts out, and for a Spymaster, he was awfully bad at lying. Cassian creased his brows, clearly concerned for his brother. “Why are you acting so weird, then?” Nesta interrogates and the male and I share a look. “I don’t think he’s acting weird,” I scoff. “Do you think you’re acting weird?” My words are fast like I only have one breath to finish my sentence. “Pshh, never,” He shakes his head, looking down at his feet then back up to Lady Death.
“Right, well, man am I exhausted,” I stretch, feigning a yawn. “Yeah, the mission really wore me out,” He sighs, rolling his shoulders like there’s a weight off of them, following me up the stairs towards the bedrooms.
Nesta looks to her mate, a small smirk on her lips. “What?” The lord of bloodshed says cluelessly. “They’re totally going to fuck,” She hums, sinking into her chair a little and picking her book back up.
Azriel and I split off into our respective bedrooms, just across the hall from each other.
I paced beside my closed door, wondering what the fuck was I thinking when I let him kiss me. Sure I’ve always thought he was pretty but that was always a stupid fantasy, not something I would ever pursue… until now. Fuck, I am so finished. I repeatedly hit my palm against my forehead as I racked my head for any thought that didn’t immediately trace back to him. I couldn’t even look at my own hands without thinking about his hands, how they held my jaw— no. I wasn’t going to let myself romanticize this, it was just a mission. Nothing more. Just a kiss. A yearning, passion-filled kiss that fed all my cravings and somehow created new ones.
I groaned, deciding that this was the finest form of torture. I now stand still in front of my door, hoping that if I stare hard enough at it, he’ll come knocking and kiss me again because, fuck, I do want him.
I can’t sit here and wait for him to come rescue me from my own torment so I do it myself, hand coming to the doorknob and before I can psych myself out, I fling the door open.
To my shock, I’m immediately met with Azriel’s figure, his hand up like he was just about to knock.
“You couldn’t even let me make an entrance?” He tilts his head and I roll my eyes. “Shut up and kiss me already,” I grab him by the collar of his leathers and pull him in, the door closing behind him as his lips crash onto mine yet again.
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#suriels tea#acotar#fanfic#a court of thorns and roses#sarah j maas#x reader#azriel#request#acomaf#bat boys#azriel x you#azriel x reader#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#shadowsinger x reader#azriel spymaster#fanfiction#x you#my fic#reader insert#x you fluff#azriel fluff#acotar fluff#x reader fluff#fluff#x reader acotar#acotar fanfiction#sjm#they’re so cute#i need him
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Azriel in ACOWAR has me in a chokehold: How much power does Azriel actually have?
Azriel, having just rescued Elain, finds himself injured. He is ordered to sit out the physical battle and fight alongside Rhys with his powers on the hilltop.
Before the battle begins he arms Elain with Truth-Teller. Shocked faces and wide eyed glances from the IC tell us this is no small gesture.
While giving Elain TT has been hypothesized into oblivion I think it’s important in the overall context of this post and in Azriel’s roll in helping win this war.
“To my left, Azriel’s Siphons glowed—readying to unleash blasts to echo Rhysand’s. He might not be able to fight, but he would wield his power from here.”
“Echo”-interesting choice of a word SJM! 🧐 if he can echo Rhysands powers without full strength what would his power be like if he was fully healed?
Rhys panted, his eyes a bit wild. The hit had been well placed. Splitting the army in two. Azriel unleashed a second blast—blue light slamming into the now-exposed flank. Driving them farther apart.
Is SJM is setting this scene up so the reader has a side by side comparison of Rhys/Az?
“Rhys’s power flowed and flowed out of him, bracing for impact. Azriel’s Siphons flashed, a sprawling shield of cobalt locking over Rhysand’s, his breathing just as heavy as my mate’s”
Locking a shield over top of Rhysand’s…breathing JUST as heavy..
“It shredded Azriel’s shield. Then Rhysand’s. And then shredded any Siphon-made ones.”
Azriel shield was the first line of defense across the whole field…The blast shredded through the first line of defense (Az), then the second (Rhys) and then the third (siphon made shields)….WAIT-if Azriel’s shield wasn’t siphon made then what was it?
“Rhys only ordered him, “Get back in line. The soldiers need you there.” Cassian bared his teeth. “What the hell can we do against that?” “I’m going in,” Azriel said.”
Cassian, commander of Rhys armies, is casting doubt on winning this battle. Azriel, injured, and ordered to stay out demands to go in. Multiple times. Famously we get the line about flying with a damn tree on his back (🥵).
“Chain me to a tree, Rhys,” Azriel said softly. “Go ahead.” He began checking the buckles on his weapons. “I’ll rip it out of the ground and fly with it on my damned back.”
~no comment~ BUT this is giving “You can’t order me to do that.” (If he’s your high lord-what so you mean he can’t order you to do something?!)
“Azriel,” Rhys said quietly. Hoarsely. “You lead the remaining Illyrians on the northern flank.” Guilt—guilt and fear rippled in my mate’s eyes at the command. Knowing that Azriel was not fully healed”
He can LEAD an army without complaint -injured.
Cassian surveyed the depleted Illyrian lines, now holding strong as Azriel rallied them. “Az has control of the lines.”
He can single handily rally back control of the lines…
“Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the king’s neck as she snarled in his ear, “Don’t you touch my sister.”
And lastly, his own knife, outfitted on his (theorized) mate, is used to win the war.
This whole sequence has raised so many questions for me. There are other scenes in the series (“you can’t order me to do that”-“he’s always known me best”-even Rhys is scared of Azs icy rage”-Beron unable to stop him in the high lords meeting-etc) that call into question:
Just how powerful is Azriel?
What is his true heritage-related to Rhys? A high lord himself?
Did SJM juxtapose Rhys and Az in these scenes to hint at something?
Oh yeah….and he’s a spymaster/Shadowsinger……
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Bat Boys - A Court of Thorns and Roses
Artist: @natserpiece
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Azriel, Cassian, and Elain are all in the kitchen. Cassian and Az have offered to help.
Az, reading a recipe: Beat three eggs?
Cassian: It means like in hand-to-hand combat.
Az: Ohhhhhhh-
Elain: Both of you get out of this kitchen.
#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acosf#a court of silver flames#acotar funny#acotar memes#incorrect acotar quotes#azriel#azriel acotar#cassian#cassian acotar#elain#elain archeron#acowar#a court of wings and ruin#acofas#a court of frost and starlight#acomaf#a court of mist and fury
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FALL
FEATURING Azriel x Illyrian!reader
SUMMARY after falling down a flight of stairs, you are forced to realize that you aren't alone and that it's time to start healing.
CONTENT WARNINGS mentions of nightmares, apologies, scared reader, comforting Azriel, nosy Rhys, Amren (she's a warning), and injuries
AUTHORS NOTE I kind of hate this a lot, but here is the third part of the Season's series, Fall. Hope you enjoy! <3
Autumn descends upon the world like a tender-hearted healer, enveloping all in its embrace of warmth and renewal. The air takes on a crisp clarity, carrying with it the subtle scent of earth and fallen leaves, a fragrance that whispers of new beginnings. Trees, once adorned in the lush greens of summer, now don their autumnal attire, each leaf a masterpiece of vibrant hues—amber, crimson, and gold—painting the landscape in a tapestry of healing colors.
As daylight wanes, the sun bathes the world in a soft, golden glow, casting long shadows that dance gracefully upon the earth. The breeze, gentle yet invigorating, rustles through the trees, a comforting melody that speaks of resilience and growth. With each step, fallen leaves crinkle beneath our feet, a soothing reminder of the cycle of life and the beauty found in letting go.
In the fall, nature herself undergoes a profound transformation, shedding the old to make way for the new. Trees release their leaves in a graceful dance of surrender, preparing for a period of rest and rejuvenation. Yet, even in this quietude, there is a vibrant energy that pulses through the air, a reminder that healing is not a passive act, but a journey of growth and renewal.
As I found myself immersing in the healing embrace of autumn, I was invited to shed the burdens of the past and embrace the beauty of transformation. Like the earth itself, I was reminded of my innate capacity to heal, to grow, and to emerge stronger and more vibrant than before. In the gentle caress of the autumn breeze, I found solace, strength, and the promise of new beginnings.
(Early September, House of Wind)
Morning light spilled through the windows of the House of Wind, painting the stairwell in hues of gold and amber. Each step I took down the winding staircase echoed softly, the sound muffled by the quiet of the early hour. Shadows danced along the walls, elongated and wavering, as if unsure of their own existence in the gentle glow of dawn.
As I descended, a flicker of movement caught my eye—a subtle shift in the darkness that should not have been there. My heart skipped a beat as I turned to look, dread coiling in the pit of my stomach. The shadows seemed to solidify, taking shape in the form of a figure I knew all too well. It was Lyris, his smirk cruel and taunting, his blade gleaming with malice in the dim light.
Panic surged through me, my breath catching in my throat. It wasn't real, I told myself, but the terror it invoked was. Before I could react, before I could rationalize, my foot missed the next step. There was no time to regain my balance, no wings to unfurl and catch me. I reached out desperately, fingers grasping for the banister, but it was too late.
The world tilted violently as I fell, the sharp pain of impact shooting up my spine as I collided with the unforgiving stairs. Each jolt sent waves of agony coursing through me, my body bouncing helplessly until I finally came to a crumpled stop at the bottom of the staircase. Dazed and disoriented, I tried to gather my bearings, the pain a sharp, throbbing ache in every limb.
Footsteps echoed through the hall, growing louder with each passing second. Then, Azriel was there, his face a mask of concern as he knelt beside me. "Don't move," he said softly, his hands hovering over me with a hesitant touch. "We need to get you to the healer."
"I'm okay," I lied, attempting to push myself up despite the searing pain that shot through me. The room spun sickeningly, and I winced, sinking back down with a pained gasp.
"No, you're not," Azriel insisted, his voice firm but gentle. He assessed me quickly, his expression grave. "We need to get you off these stairs. Can you stand?"
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, frustration and pain mingling into a bitter concoction. "I don't… I can't…" I faltered, unable to voice the depth of my vulnerability.
"It's okay. I've got you." Azriel's arms enveloped me, lifting me gently from the cold, hard floor. I buried my face against his chest, seeking solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat amidst the chaos of my own.
As we moved, the memory of the fall replayed in my mind—the hallucination of Lyris, the terror of losing my footing. I had lost more than just my wings that day; I had lost a piece of myself. How was I supposed to heal when my own mind betrayed me with such vivid, haunting illusions?
Azriel's presence was a silent promise of protection, his concern a soothing balm to my fractured psyche. I clung to it, to him, as we made our way to the healer's chambers, the shadows of the stairwell receding into the background as we stepped into the light of a new day. I would allow myself to let him seep in my darkness for a moment. I would be selfish for just this moment and then it would be back to struggling alone, to protecting them, him.
Madja's room was filled with the subtle scent of lavender and sage, a calming ambiance that did little to ease the knot of anxiety in my stomach. The healer's hands were warm and gentle as she applied salves to the bruises that marbled my skin, her touch careful around the tender areas where my wings once were.
"You're healing well physically," Madja said softly, her voice soothing. "But healing the mind… that takes time, and often more than just my skills." She offered me a small, understanding smile, though her eyes were stern, hinting at the depth of her concern.
Before I could respond, the door creaked open, and Azriel stepped inside. His expression was unreadable, shadows swirling slightly at his feet—a sure sign of his inner turmoil. Madja excused herself with a knowing look, leaving us alone.
I shifted on the cot, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders as I faced him. "Azriel," I began, but my voice cracked, betraying my nervousness.
He moved closer, his movements graceful and deliberate. Stopping at the edge of the cot, he knelt so he was eye level with me, his gaze intense. "I've been patient," he said, his voice low and strained. "I've given you space, but we can't keep avoiding this conversation."
I swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on me. "I don't know if I'm ready," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.
Azriel reached out, his hand hesitating in the air before gently brushing a stray hair back from my face. "I know you're hurting. And I know I can't understand everything you're going through. But I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to go through this alone."
Tears welled up in my eyes, and I blinked them away furiously. "It's not just the pain, Azriel. It's the fear," I confessed, the words tumbling out. "Every shadow, every noise—it takes me back to that moment. And I feel so powerless."
His expression softened, the shadows receding slightly as if in response to my distress. "I wish I could take that fear away," he murmured. "But since I can't, I'll stand with you against it. Every step of the way, until you feel strong again."
"How do you do it?" I asked, searching his face. "How do you live with your own shadows?"
A sad smile tugged at his lips. "By knowing which shadows are mine to control, and which are simply part of the world. And by having people I love to light the way when it gets too dark."
"What if I'm not strong enough?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me like a heavy shroud. Despite my efforts to steel myself against the pain, I couldn't help but curl into myself, feeling small and vulnerable in the face of my own fears. "What if I never get over this and—" I choked back my tears once more, the fear gnawing at my insides too overwhelming to voice aloud.
Azriel's heart clenched at my words, the rawness of my pain mirroring his own. With aching tenderness, he reached out, his hand hovering over mine, a silent beacon of comfort in the darkness. "You are strong," he said softly, his voice a gentle reassurance. "Stronger than you realize. But even the strongest among us have moments of doubt, moments when the weight of the world feels too heavy to bear."
My eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, sought solace in his unwavering gaze. "And if you never get over this… if the shadows linger longer than you'd like, know that you are not alone. We'll face them together, every step of the way."
The weight of my fear trembled through my shoulders; the depth of my anguish palpable in the air. "But what if I pull you all into it too?" I whispered, my voice barely above a hoarse whisper. "What if my darkness becomes yours?"
Azriel's heart ached at the thought, but he refused to let me drown in my despair. "Your darkness is not a burden," he said, his voice steady, unwavering. "It's a part of you, just as much as your light. And I would walk through the darkest of nights if it meant I could stand beside you."
He reached for my hand, his touch gentle yet firm, anchoring me to the present moment. "Let me help you carry this weight," he urged, his eyes locking with mine. "Let us carry it together."
For a moment, there was only silence—a heavy, pregnant pause that hung between us, charged with unspoken emotions. And then, with a shaky breath, I nodded, my grip tightening around his hand as if anchoring myself to his steadfast presence.
In that moment, as we sat together in the quiet sanctuary of Madja's room, surrounded by the gentle scent of herbs and healing, Azriel felt a flicker of hope ignite within him. No matter how dark the path ahead, no matter how daunting the shadows that loomed on the horizon, we would face them together. And with love as our guiding light, we would find our way back to the warmth of the sun.
(Mid-October, River House)
The air in the room seemed to hold its breath as I gathered the courage to speak, surrounded by the Inner Circle whose presence felt both comforting and daunting. Cassian's warm gaze, Nesta's softened expression, Rhys and Feyre's silent solidarity, Amren's unreadable yet somehow reassuring presence, and Mor's gentle smile—all of them were a testament to the depth of their care.
With Azriel standing at my side, his silent support a steady anchor in the storm of my emotions, I began to speak. My voice, though laced with uncertainty, carried the weight of my sincerity as I addressed them.
"I want to apologize," I began, each word heavy with meaning as I met their eyes, one by one. "For the distance I've kept, for the walls I've built around myself. I've been… cold, and for that, I'm truly sorry.
A hushed tension hung in the air, anticipation mingling with apprehension as they waited for me to continue. But instead of judgment or reproach, I found only understanding in their expressions—compassion and empathy reflected in their unwavering gazes.
"I'm ready to try," I confessed, the admission a revelation in itself. "To try again.. To heal."
Cassian's hand found mine, his touch grounding and reassuring as he squeezed gently. "We're here for you," he declared, his voice a solemn vow. "Whatever you need, whenever you need it."
Nesta's usually sharp gaze softened, her features etched with genuine concern. "We've missed you," she admitted, her voice carrying a rare vulnerability. "But we understand. And we'll stand by you, no matter what."
Rhys and Feyre exchanged a silent glance, their unity a beacon of strength amidst the uncertainty. "You're not alone," Rhys affirmed, his voice steady and resolute. "We'll face this together, as a family."
Amren nodded curtly, her demeanor as inscrutable as ever, yet there was a glimmer of warmth in her eyes that spoke volumes. "Don't make a habit of apologizing," she quipped dryly, a subtle reassurance in her words.
Mor's smile was gentle, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness that threatened to engulf me. "We love you," she said simply, her words a promise of unwavering support.
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I absorbed their words, the weight of their acceptance washing over me like a tidal wave. In that moment, surrounded by the love and understanding of my chosen family, I allowed myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was hope for me yet.
With Azriel's hand firmly clasped in mine, I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the arduous journey ahead. It wouldn't be easy, and the road to recovery would be fraught with challenges. But with the unwavering support of those who loved me, I knew I could face whatever lay ahead.
Night after night, the nightmares clawed their way into my sleep, tearing through the fragile fabric of my dreams with merciless intensity. Each time, I would wake in a cold sweat, heart pounding in my chest, lungs gasping for air as if I'd been drowning in the darkness of my own mind.
Azriel had been there from the beginning, his quiet presence a steadfast anchor in the storm of my nightmares. At first, he would come at the sound of my screams, offering comfort and reassurance until the tremors subsided and sleep reclaimed me once more. But as the nights stretched on and the nightmares showed no signs of abating, his visits became more frequent, his presence a comforting constant in the ever-shifting landscape of my dreams.
I would wake to find him sitting beside my bed, his gaze watchful and protective as he kept vigil over my troubled sleep. His presence was a balm to my fractured mind, a beacon of light in the suffocating darkness that threatened to consume me.
At first, I protested his presence, insisting that he had better things to do than waste his nights sitting by my bedside. But he brushed off my protests with a quiet determination, his eyes holding a depth of understanding that spoke volumes. He didn't need words to convey the truth—that he would stay for as long as I needed him, no matter the cost.
And so, night after night, I would wake to find him there, his presence a silent reassurance that I was not alone in my suffering. With each passing night, his visits became longer, his presence more palpable until it felt as though he had practically moved into my room.
I would wake to the soft sound of his breathing, the warmth of his presence a comforting weight beside me. His steady heartbeat echoed in the silence of the night, a rhythmic cadence that anchored me to the present moment.
In those quiet hours before dawn, with the weight of his presence beside me, I found solace in the knowledge that I was not alone. No matter how dark the night, no matter how terrifying the nightmares that plagued my sleep, Azriel was there, a silent guardian watching over me until the first light of dawn chased the shadows away. And for that, I was endlessly grateful.
(Late October, River House)
As Azriel sat across from Rhysand, the weight of the conversation about you felt even heavier upon his shoulders. His mind flickered back to the recent events—the trauma you had endured, the pain etched into your every expression, and the way you had leaned on him for support during your darkest moments.
"I've noticed the way you look at her, Az," Rhys's voice broke through his thoughts, bringing him back to the present. "And I can't help but wonder… Are you two… a thing?"
Azriel's gaze softened with a mix of fondness and concern as he thought of you. "I… I care about her deeply," he confessed quietly, his voice tinged with emotion. "Especially now, after everything she's been through."
Rhys nodded, his eyes reflecting understanding. "I know you've been by her side through it all, Az. And I'm grateful for that. How is she holding up?"
The concern in Rhys's voice mirrored Azriel's own worries. Your recovery had been slow and arduous, marked by moments of progress followed by setbacks. Azriel had been there every step of the way, offering his support and comfort whenever you needed it most.
"She's… she's trying her best," Azriel replied, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "But the kidnapping still weighs heavily on her. Some days are better than others."
Rhys reached out a hand, placing it reassuringly on Azriel's shoulder. "You're doing everything you can for her, Az. And she knows that. Just keep being there for her, okay?"
Azriel nodded, gratitude swelling within him for Rhys's words of encouragement. Despite the challenges they faced, he was determined to stand by your side, offering you whatever solace and support he could provide.
As they parted ways, Azriel's thoughts remained with you—the strength you had shown in the face of adversity, the resilience that burned bright within you. And though he knew that your path to recovery would be a long and difficult one, he vowed to walk it with you every step of the way, for you had become more than just someone he cared about—you were his guiding light in the darkness, his reason to hope for a brighter tomorrow.
(Late November, Velaris)
Stepping beyond the familiar walls of the House of Wind felt like a liberation, a triumph over the shadows that had threatened to consume me. As I walked alongside Feyre and Mor, the streets of Velaris buzzed with life, each step forward a testament to the strength I had found within myself.
Beside me, Azriel's concern was evident, his worry etched in the furrow of his brow and the gentle pressure of his hand in mine. But this time, I was determined to show him—and myself—that I was stronger than the nightmares that haunted me.
"Don't worry, Az," I said with a reassuring smile, giving his hand a squeeze. "I'm ready for this. Feyre and Mor are with me."
Feyre and Mor nodded in agreement; their expressions filled with confidence. "We've got your back," Feyre said with a reassuring smile. "We won't let anything happen to you."
Their words filled me with a sense of reassurance, a reminder that I wasn't alone in this journey. With their support, I felt invincible, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
As we walked through the bustling streets of Velaris, I couldn't help but feel a sense of exhilaration coursing through me. The sun warmed my skin, the wind tousled my hair, and for the first time in what felt like ages, I felt truly alive.
But amidst the excitement, a part of me couldn't shake the worry that lingered in Azriel's eyes. I knew he cared about me deeply, and the thought of causing him any more pain weighed heavily on my heart.
"Are you sure you're up for this?" he asked quietly, his concern palpable. "We can turn back if you're not feeling well."
I met his gaze with determination, my resolve unwavering. "I'm more than ready, Az," I replied, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "I've spent too long hiding away. It's time for me to start living again."
[PREVIOUS]
#acowar#acourtofthornsandroses#acotar#acomaf#x reader#fanfic#angst#slight fluff#azriel x you#azriel#azriel fanfic#azriel x reader#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#rhys acotar#rhysand#cassian#nesta archeron#acosf#nesta x cassian#nesta#nesta acotar#acotar fanfiction#acotar series#a court of thorns and roses#acotar fandom#acotar fanart#acofas#feyre archeron#feyre x rhysand
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🎨 art_by_ava.georgia
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Where The Shadows Dance (iii)
Bodyguard!Azriel x AutumnDaughter!Reader
CHAPTER III: The Princess
SUMMARY: Azriel and the Princess of the Autumn Court have spent two weeks together now, and yet Azriel's shell is one not easily broken
WARNINGS: once again more misogyny! yay! and also both y/n and azriel can be real bitchy
NOTE: once again special thank you to my moots @icey--stars and @fieldofdaisiies for reading over my work! <33
WORDS: 1.7K
You sat at your desk, pouring over the book you were currently studying. It was the most thorough study on rare Fae abilities you could find, although it was not thorough enough to understand the shadowsinger who sat behind you, reading a book of his own. No, Azriel was a different puzzle altogether.
You had truly enjoyed spending time with the Night Court members — Cassian was an absolute menace and you loved him already; Rhysand was a cunning leader, and you were fascinated by his rule of the Night Court; Feyre was beautiful inside and out, and her powers intrigued you; Amren was scary, plain and simple — although she was also wickedly intelligent; and Azriel, while soft-spoken, added insightful comments to each conversation.
Well, at least he did, until his court members had left two weeks ago. Now he just seemed to brood everywhere he followed you. Indeed, that was what the male was currently doing, his eyes on the window, a frown tugging at his lips and brows, book open but unread. You wished the book in front of you would tell you whether it was a shadowsinger trait, or simply an Azriel trait.
“Stop brooding,” you chided him.
Azriel looked up at you, brows still furrowed, a slightly annoyed expression crossing over his face. “I’m not brooding,” he huffed.
“You are so. Your broodiness is distracting me from my reading,” you replied with a delicate sniff.
Azriel rolled his eyes and didn’t respond. You weren’t sure whether you preferred this side of him — of course, you definitely enjoyed the side of him you experienced within the company of the Night Court, but something about his broodiness… Well, it was kind of hot.
“I can’t read with your brooding,” you sighed. “You’re crowding this room with negative thoughts.”
“That’s not even a thing,” he muttered, and you pretended not to hear.
You closed your book and stood up, the action prompting Azriel to rise as well. You watched him carefully, the male watching you right back. Those hazel eyes bored into yours, and you could have sworn you saw a flicker of something, beyond cold disinterest.
“Would you like to accompany me on a walk?” you asked, knowing that he would have to agree.
Azriel dipped his head slightly, ever the polite and respectful male, despite his sullenness. “Of course, Lady. Where to?”
“I was thinking the main street–”
“Not this again,” Azriel groaned, rolling his eyes.
You crossed your arms and glared at the Illyrian male. Unfortunately, your father had given Azriel a rather long list of rules, dictating what you could and could not do, where you could and could not go, who you could see and could not see, and on and on and on. You honestly thought that your father had more important things to do than write a silly list to trap his daughter with, but apparently not.
One of the places you were strictly prohibited from visiting was anywhere outside the castle. Not that you’d really ever done that much before, as your father liked to keep you ‘protected’, but even with the security of your Illyrian bodyguard, you were not allowed beyond the palace walls. To be fair, the ‘attempt on your life’ — as your father liked to put it — did happen during a parade on the main streets, but you had been perfectly fine.
“I don’t understand why—” you began, but Azriel interrupted, politeness gone.
“Your father strictly stated that you are not to leave the castle,” he reminded you harshly.
You scowled at the shadowsinger. He seemed so much more… willing to comply whenever his friends were around. Now that he was alone with you, it was as if his heart was made of stone, and he felt nothing — no compassion for you at all.
“So you will aid in the entrapment of another female?” you frowned. “Didn’t you try to save your friend Morrigan from the same fate?”
You knew you’d struck a nerve when a sliver of glittering rage shone in his eyes. You felt a tad bad, as it was a low blow — really, there wasn't anything he could do to help you — but you were honestly sick and tired of being stuck in the castle. Had the shadowsinger not been present, you would have snuck out already, as you tended to do quite a bit. You were lucky enough to have inherited your mother’s ability to create perfect glamours, and it came in handy when you wanted to sneak out.
But the shadowsinger would not leave you be. He shadowed your every step, always lingering and watching. He was clearly taking this bodyguard role seriously — too seriously, in your opinion.
You sighed at the shadowsinger and crossed your arms. “The Orchards?” you suggested.
Azriel’s polite mask slipped in place, but you could still sense his anger at your words. “Of course, Lady Vanserra.”
You decided not to worry yourself about his feelings. It didn’t matter, anyway. He would be gone as soon as this threat was terminated, and then you would have to marry whatever nobility your father deemed worthy. You’d never see Azriel or the Night Court members again.
At least, that’s what you were supposed to think. But you couldn’t stop yourself from daydreaming about running away from the Autumn Court and living in Velaris, the City of Starlight, for the rest of your immortal life.
You allowed Azriel to lead you down to the Royal Orchards, while also trying to converse with him. As per usual, his answers were short and clipped, perhaps more so due to your hurtful words. However, no matter what you asked, you just couldn’t break past his walls.
“You don’t like my brothers very much, do you?” you inquired as you walked through the apple trees.
“I do not know them well enough to form an opinion,” Azriel answered politely.
You snorted, knowing that was not true. No one really liked your brothers, as most of them were too similar to your father for anyone’s liking, even yours. You only had two brothers who you actually liked, because they treated you like a person, not an object.
You were only six when Lucien left the Autumn Court, but you remembered him fondly. He was easily the nicest of your brothers, with much more of a resemblance to your mother than to your father. And it wasn’t just physical likeliness — Lucien showed the compassion and kindness that your mother did, which was why he was one of your favourite brothers, even if you hadn’t seen him in decades.
Your other favourite brother, contrary to popular belief, was Eris. You knew for a fact that Azriel despised Eris, as most people did. They just didn’t know him like you did. Eris had a soft spot for you, a side that no one besides your mother ever saw. Yes, while you could admit that he was a sadistic asshole to most people, he’d never been anything but a great older brother to you. He’d taught you how to protect your mind from Daemati, and he’d also trained you in combat for a few years, until your father had found out.
The rest of your brothers took after your father, so they paid you no mind. You didn’t really care, as they were all dim-witted brutes anyway. Although it would have been nice to have a few more family members who actually cared.
“Do you like your brothers?” Azriel inquired.
You blinked at the question, then shrugged. “Eris and Lucien, although I haven’t seen Lucien in decades.”
Azriel nodded and said nothing more, and you internally groaned. Every time you thought you’d come close to breaking down his walls, he would go silent and, once again, disinterested. You wondered why he acted this way.
An apple hung on a branch ahead of you, and you reached up, only for your fingers to brush against the bottom of the fruit. You frowned in frustration, tempted to burn the whole branch off, when a gloved hand reached up and grabbed the apple. Azriel held it out to you, and you took it from him without a word.
“Why are you so gloomy?” you asked.
Azriel paused, looking at you boredly. “I’m not gloomy.”
“You definitely are,” you hummed, turning the apple in your hand. “You seem bored.”
Azriel rolled his eyes. “I came here under the impression that I would have to protect you against a possible assassination, rather than walking around and doing nothing with you.”
“I know of a few things we could do together,” you purred, looking at Azriel from beneath lowered lashes.
Azriel’s stare hardened in annoyance, and you grinned at him. It was moments like these that you loved, when you could get under his skin with just a few words. It happened more often than Azriel would probably willingly admit.
You sighed deeply and picked up your skirts, heading back to your quarters, Azriel only a few steps behind. The castle came closer much too quickly, and a plan began to formulate in your mind. You took the sweeping staircases up to your chambers, and opened the door to your bathroom. Azriel was still only a step behind you, so you raised an eyebrow at him.
“Are you going to join me?” you asked.
Azriel’s eyes took in the bathtub, and a mortified expression took over his face for a split second, before it was once again neutral.
“My apologies, Lady Vanserra,” Azriel murmured.
He turned away, but you caught a glimpse of red on his cheeks as he shut the door, leaving you alone in your bathroom. You smiled to yourself and began to undress, the layers of your dress fluttering to the floor.
You walked over to the furthest wall from the door and tapped lightly on the red and orange wallpaper, feeling around for the secret nook. Once found, you pulled out the red tunic and black pants, something your father would probably have a fit over if he caught you wearing.
You turned back to the door, sensing Azriel’s presence. You heard the whisper of a page being turned over, so you grabbed your gown and a pair of scissors.
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Gwynriels every time a new Acotar article comes out and Elain is mentioned…
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It’s Cool, We’re Just Friends
Pairing: Azriel x BestFriend! Reader
Summary: Azriel and Reader have been besties for years, until one night has them crossing into uncharted territory.
Warning: Steamy at the end whoops
Word Count: 2.8k
The rooftop garden at Rhysand’s townhouse was one of your favorite places in the world. It was one of the only places that you could often have to yourself when you needed some time for quiet reflection. You loved to lounge up there, especially at night when you could watch the City of Starlight come to life before your very eyes.
The only thing better than having the rooftop all to yourself was sharing it with your best friend, Azriel.
You smiled as he appeared, smoothly landing a few feet from you, his eyes sparkling, his shadows vanishing as he smiled at you.
He dragged the empty iron chair closer to you and settled in, stretching his wings out behind him, placing his hands behind his head, leaning back casually. He only sat this way when it was just the two of you, when he didn’t have to keep up appearances as the Night Court’s spymaster and shadowsinger.
“What did you do today?” he asked, looking out at the light and life of the city.
“Trained with Cassian. Hated my life,” you said, shifting in the iron chair to ease some of the soreness in your back.
Azriel laughed quietly, his eyes flicking to you as you tried to get comfortable. “Cassian always has that effect on me, too.”
You scoffed, lightly swatting at his bare bicep. “Don’t be mean. You love your brother.”
He sighed, smiling lightly at you. “Then what?”
“Mmmm,” you pondered, running through your day in your mind. “Oh! I finished my book!”
“The one about the forbidden love?” He lifted his eyebrow.
“Yes!” you squealed, excitedly. “It was so good.”
“Let me guess,” he said, his voice teasing in that way that he saved just for you. “They finally got together and lived happily ever after?”
“Yes! How did you know?” You teased.
He shook his head, smiling. “Anything else?”
“Not really,” you said, studying him. He was the only person you had ever met who actually wanted to know the answer when they asked you how your day was. “What did you do today?”
Azriel shrugged, looking out at the city again, the flickering lights below reflecting in his eyes. “Not much.”
“Are you kidding me?” You leaned forward in your seat, gawking at him, and he laughed. “I tell you everything about my boring day, and that’s your answer?”
His smile faded though as he leveled a gaze at you, his eyes sweeping over your face. “I wanted to spare you the details.”
Your blood turned cold at his serious expression. Azriel and you had been best friends for years, ever since you had fled your home in the Autumn Court. From your old home, you had gone north, nearly freezing to death in the Winter Court before the shadowsinger found you and gave you refuge in Velaris. The two of you were kindred spirits, hitting it off instantly. His brothers and his other friends had eventually told you that he immediately relaxed in your presence, even from the beginning, and that he had never seemed so comfortable with someone so quickly. You were honored to be his friend, thanked the stars every night that he had found you and saved your life.
He had been fiercely protective of you from the beginning, wanting to shield you from the realities of what his life was like outside of Velaris. You hated to admit it, but you did get squeamish thinking about what you knew Azriel sometimes had to do -- the torture, the blood, the screams. The thought of him sneaking around in dangerous territories, watching enemies, gathering intel on the in’s and out’s of their lives… it made you more worried than you could express.
But, you also hated not knowing what he was doing, if he was safe. It took months, but you eventually convinced him that you could handle at least the vaguest details of the missions he went on. You knew that he would never be willing to tell you the whole truth, knew that he didn’t want you to think of him that way -- the ruthless, unyielding shadowsinger.
Still, he would usually tell you something. So, if he was unwilling to tell you what he had been doing today… it must have been something very dangerous indeed.
“Oh,” you said finally. “Are you okay?”
His eyes softened as he gazed at you. “I am now.”
You couldn’t help but smile at the sweet Illyrian before you. “You can talk about it, you know. If you have to. I’m here for you,” you reached across the space between you, gently taking his hand.
Azriel’s gaze landed on your hand clasped with his, his expression softening to barely detectable sadness that made you heart hurt. “I know you are,” he said softly.
You studied him for a moment, eyes trailing over that beautiful face that you had memorized. He was in his fighting leathers, tattoos peeking out from under his collar, trailing down his bare arms, his strong biceps that were the size of your head, his massive wings stretched out behind him.
And his rough, scarred hand gently holding yours.
You tugged on his hand gently, so his eyes met yours again. “Want to take me for a ride?”
He smirked, an expression that had taken months of friendship to unlock. “You sure you want to?”
“You seem like you could use a distraction,” you murmured.
Azriel held your gaze for a beat longer before he stood up and scooped you into his arms, only pausing for a moment to smile at you before he shot up into the sky.
Flying with your Illyrian friends had taken a long time for you to get remotely used to, and even now it sometimes made your stomach churn. But you knew it helped clear Azriel’s mind, and you liked the time you got to spend with him in the air, just the two of you.
He held you close against him, his arms wrapped behind your back and under your knees. You rested a hand on his chest, reveling in your opportunity to study him while his eyes were trained on his surroundings. No matter how much time you spent with your friend, his beauty never ceased to amaze you.
You could feel the tension in his body slowly loosen as he flew above his city, a light breeze gracing against your skin, running through your hair through the shields that he put up around the two of you.
Dipping his head, bringing his mouth to your ear, he murmured, “Thank you.”
You curled into him, resting your head on his chest. He tightened his grip on you slightly.
Sometime later, he landed back on the roof, setting you carefully on the ground. Despite his gentle touch, you winced quietly as the muscles in your back ached from your training this morning.
Azriel’s brow furrowed, his hands freezing at your waist, his fingers flexing against your body. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” you said, smiling sweetly up at him.
He arched a brow, not believing it for a second.
“It’s nothing!”
He simply waited, knowing full well that you couldn’t keep your mouth shut for long.
“Okay, fine,” you groaned. “My back hurts. A lot.”
His eyes swam with worry, before narrowing in accusation. “You haven’t been doing the stretches you’re supposed to be doing, have you?”
“Well…” you said, your voice rising a few octaves. “Not all of them.”
He growled your name, his frustration evident. “Why not?”
You shrugged. “They didn’t seem that important at the time.”
Groaning, he picked you up and slung you over his shoulder, heading for the stairs of the townhouse. You shrieked. In all of your years together, he had never done this.
“What are you doing?” you squealed, trying and failing not to stare at your best friend’s glorious ass, which was now far too close to your face.
“I’m going to help you solve the problem that you created, because you’re my best friend, and because you clearly aren’t capable of taking care of yourself,” he said, as he stomped unceremoniously down the stairs.
Scoffing, you said, “Is this really a necessary part of it?”
“Yes,” he countered, clearly amused.
You huffed, staying silent as he walked through the mercifully empty halls to your bedroom. He opened the door with his free hand, kicking it shut behind him, before tossing you onto the bed.
“Oww,” you groaned as your back hit the mattress.
The tough guy act faded as soon as you were in pain. His eyes softened. “Sorry.”
“I thought you said you were going to help me,” you grumbled.
“I am,” he said, stalking towards you, his eyes alight. “Lay on your stomach.”
You quirked a brow at him in question, but when he just silently held your gaze, you sighed and did as you were told.
Suddenly, you were very aware of how thin the material of your dress was, how the hem landed just above your knees. You were thankful that he couldn’t see the heat in your cheeks.
The mattress shifted beneath you as he climbed onto the bed. “What are you--”
“Shh.”
Your skin prickled as he settled his calves snug against your hips, straddling you. He remained hovering over your body on his knees. You weren’t sure you were breathing.
“Okay, what are you --”
The air was sucked out of your lungs as his hands found their way to your shoulders, kneading your back with his rough fingers, digging deep into you, working out all the tension that had been building in your muscles for who knows how long.
You weren’t sure if it felt good or if it hurt… both. Definitely both.
He remained silent as he worked out the knots in your back, gradually moving lower and lower, kneading and rubbing.
The lower his hands moved, the more you had to focus not to squirm. You felt the heat of his body, and the things his hands were doing… you couldn't help but imagine what those hands could do in other places.
It’s not like you had never thought about it before. You had always been just friends, but you weren’t blind. He was the most beautiful male you had ever seen. And he was always so sweet and kind and protective…
You couldn’t stop the moan that came out of your mouth.
His hands stilled for the slightest moment before he continued kneading your muscles. “You doing okay?” He asked, his voice thick. It made heat spread between your legs. The legs that he was currently holding down with his body.
“Mmhmm,” was all you could manage.
It was impossible to tell how much time had passed when he finally lifted his hands from your back. “Is that better?” he asked softly, not moving from his position over you.
You twisted around a bit, testing movements that had made you wince before. After a moment you turned to lay on your back, your body touching his in so many places as you did so. “You’re a miracle worker,” you said, your voice coming out raspy.
He continued to hover over you, his expression unreadable. He leaned closer, bracing his forearms on either side of you, his chest pressing against yours, his face only inches away.
“Az,” you breathed, unable to look away from the heat in his eyes.
His eyes sparked and he leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours, twining a hand in your hair as the other gripped your waist.
Your body responded to his immediately, your hands cupping his cheek, wrapping around the back of his neck.
The kiss started out slow. Azriel was taking his time, and when you opened your mouth for him, his tongue slid in gently, exploring your mouth with such tenderness that you wanted to weep.
You gasped as he pulled away to leave a line of sensual kisses down your neck, his hands running over your stomach, your thighs.. “We should’ve been doing this the whole time,” you moaned, breathless.
He laughed into your skin, and you felt the vibration go through your whole body. You squeezed your thighs together and he groaned, nipping lightly at your shoulder.
“Yes, we should have,” he said, kissing his way up your neck. “We’re idiots,” he laughed before taking your mouth with his again, kissing you deeply.
“So stupid,” you said against his mouth and the shoulders you were clutching shook with laughter.
Azriel continued to kiss you slowly, his rough hand drifting underneath your dress, up your thighs…
“Is this okay?” he pulled his mouth back an inch, his eyes studying your face, his body attuned to your every reaction.
“Az, you’re my very favorite person. I trust you with my life. You can do whatever you want to me,” you said, your voice teasing despite how breathless he was making you.
His eyes sparked, his expression one of affection and disbelief before he smirked, his hand trailing up further. “Whatever I want, hmm?” he murmured, his eyes trained on yours.
You could only stare as his hand stilled, a fraction away from where you really wanted him.
“And what do you want, my dear friend?” he said, his voice velvety in a way you’d never heard before.
“Please,” was all you could manage.
He grinned, waiting a beat before he moved your underwear to the side, sliding a finger into your center.
The moan that you let out nearly rattled the walls.
His gaze was trained on you, watching how your body reacted to every move he made. Eventually you tugged his clothes off and he did the same to you, until you were moving together, skin to skin. He moaned your name as he slid into you, setting your body on fire.
He pressed his forehead to yours as he moved inside you, one of his hands holding yours, clutched next to your head, as he kissed your lips gently. He gazed at you when he pulled back, his every movement swimming with affection. “You’re my favorite person,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“You’re the hottest man in the world,” you said just as quietly, your fingers scratching down his back, his wings rippling behind him.
The laugh that rumbled through him made your head spin, and his hips move faster. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world,” he countered, smiling lovingly down at you.
“I was staring at your ass when you slung me over your shoulder,” you admitted.
“I stare at your ass whenever you leave the room,” he grinned, bending down to nip playfully at your neck, his hips not breaking his steady rhythm.
You gasped, swatting his arm. “You do not!”
“I do,” he laughed, kissing your neck.
“I thought you were a gentleman!” you said mockingly.
He looked at you pointedly, slamming his hips into yours more forcefully. The sound that escaped from your throat was filthy.
“I guess you’re learning a lot about me tonight,” he teased, his eyes sparkling.
You rolled your eyes playfully before wrapping a hand around the back of his head, twisting your fingers through his hair as you brought his mouth down to yours.
You didn’t speak again until some time later, when he was holding you close, your legs entwined, your head resting on his bare chest, his wings enveloping you in their warmth.
Idly, you drew shapes and patterns onto his skin with your fingertip. He shivered. “I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time,” you whispered, your eyes fixed on your finger, moving to trace over his tattoos, too afraid to look at his expression.
His arms tightened around you and he kissed the top of your head. “I’ve been in love with you since I met you.”
Your gaze flicked to him, your eyes wide. He smiled softly down at you. “You have?"
He kissed you gently in response. “How could I not be?” he whispered.
Your bottom lip trembled and he ran his thumb across it. “Don’t cry,” he murmured.
That made you cry. He laughed, his wings wrapping tighter around the two of you, shielding you from the world.
“Such a softie,” he teased, lifting your chin to press a sweet kiss to your mouth.
You grumbled adamantly, burying your face in his chest.
The two of you laid in companionable silence for a while before he broke it. “You’re going to do your stretches from now on, right?”
“If this is the treatment I get when I don’t do them? Absolutely not,” you grinned.
#acotar#acotar fic#acotar one shot#acotar x reader#azriel#azriel acotar#azriel one shot#azriel x reader#azriel x you
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Not Again - Part Ten
Summary: Azriel and Y/n both are left reeling from the fight and revelations that morning.
Warnings: ANGST!!!! Shes a little spicey, Smut (oral, f receiving), this is probably the longest chapter yet
Series Masterlist
-Part Ten-
Azriel was gone until well after dinner, she’d eaten alone in the dining room when the house had seemed sick of her wallowing and forced a plate of food in front of her. Y/n was half tempted to refuse but she felt the scolding presence and decided arguing wasn’t worth it.
The fight had drained from her in the hours she’d spent in that seat, staring at the wall. She didn’t have it in her, the fire from her argument with Azriel dying out, turning to ice in her chest until she felt nothing at all.
Once she finished every last bite of the meal, the house whisked away the plates and she was left with nothing again, just that cold empty silence. She felt the fire tugging on her, felt it like a faint echo of what she’d felt this morning, begging to be rekindled, to keep fighting until she won, that was her mother’s temper, her father’s resilience. But she wasn’t them, she wasn’t strong enough to be them, her parents had taken on the world and won, fighting for a dream that they got to achieve. Y/n? Y/n had lived through nothing but peace. She was trained as a warrior, she could fight and win, but what was there to fight for? To get home, to fight some faceless god that wanted her dead for a sin that wasn’t her own, to die anyway? What was the damned point of it all.
Alone, she was so fucking alone, and it was eating her alive.
“You’re still up.”
Her heart lurches in her chest, “Gods be damned, don’t do that.”
Azriel glides across the room, in that deadly silent way, spymaster indeed. She hadn’t even felt his approach like she usually did, that heavy feeling of being under his gaze, that feeling in her heart that whispered, he’s close. It was like it was suppressed, submerged under water, still there, but so so faint.
“I’m sorry.” He gives her a small grin that says quite the opposite, “Did I startle you?”
“Not at all,” she says, frowning up at him, “Where have you been? Babysitting not fun enough for you anymore?”
It’s easy to throw on that mask of sarcasm and arrogance, anything to hide the crushing weight on her shoulders.
“It was never fun to begin with.” He shrugs, taking a seat across from her, a glass of deep red wine appearing on the table before him, “I was dealing with court matters.”
She leans across the table and plucks the glass into her own hands, “Sounds riveting.”
The wine is sweet on her tongue as she drinks deeply, her eyes closed and her head tilted back. It soothes some of the rough edges of her, chips away at that ice.
She sighs as she finishes the glass, her eyes finding the male in front of her, who’s hazel gaze is firmly planted on her sighing lips. There’s a darkness in his gaze, different than the usual shadows, it’s deeper, it kindles that fire in her, a singular spark that could turn into a blaze. Maybe, it would be enough to burn away the thoughts that threaten to drag her down, down, down.
“That was mine,” he says quietly.
She smiles sweetly, “Was it? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”
His eyes don’t move from her lips, “I’ve had a long day, Princess.”
“Oh do tell.” The glass in her hand fills on its own, a gift from the house, she sips slowly. “I do hope you weren’t sulking all day.”
Azriel leans forward, arms resting on the table between them. Earlier it had felt like the only barrier keeping them from tearing into each other, now, it felt much the same.
“Sulking over what, exactly?” His head tilts to the side, examining her, “Over a stubborn female who’s ready to run head first into her death?”
And just like that the fire turns from a gentle heat to a roaring in her blood, and not in the way she wanted it to. There was something about the way he looked at her, the infuriating way he’d looked all morning during their fight, that has her fire burning again. Fight, fight, fight. She wanted to fight and burn and take all of this storming emotion inside of her out on him, and it would seem he was finally ready to do the same.
“I see you’ve still got your panties in a twist over this,” she grins, showing off her canines, “Did you think you could just kiss me and I’d fall at your feet and let you go over protective fae male on me?”
His eyes drop to her lips, “I’d think you’d have wanted to actually survive long enough to make it home to your family.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do,” she snaps, “But you and your busybody court won’t get out of my way.”
“So you can get yourself killed?” His gaze is darker, filled with that rage and something more, “So you can throw yourself in front of a vengeful god that wants you dead, leaving the portal open to it, get all of us killed in your reckless, idiotic, selfish attempt.”
He’s right, she knows that, whatever god has it out for her won’t stop until she’s dead, and after that, who knows what it will do with the lock. She sees his reasoning, she understands it, but she’s geared for a fight and that fire fuels her.
“If you’d let me try,” she snarls, “give me the damned book and figure out how to open the right gate-“
“No.” His voice is soft, a simmering heat lacing it, “You are not going anywhere near that book, you are not trying that fucking gate again, you are not leaving-“
“Leaving what, who? Leaving you?” There’s a raging fire in her eyes, in her blood, in the pit of her stomach, it begs for her to burn with it, she chases the feeling so she doesn’t feel the emptiness from before. “Was my mouth so good that you can’t stand to let me go?”
That narrow focus on her mouth sends a thrill through her, “Is it so shocking that I actually care about your wellbeing, you absolute fucking brat.”
Her grin is feline, “I have a feeling you like brats, shadowsinger.”
Azriel is standing, leaning over the table, wings flared in the perfect picture of a wrathful god. Her eyes skate over him, down those sculpted arms to the hands that look ready to wring her neck. He could easily wrap one of his large hands around her throat and squeeze the life out of her, could make her see stars.
When her eyes travel back up to his, she could melt with the heat in them. This is exactly what she wanted, rile him up, get him to either punch her or fuck her, she didn’t quite care which, only that he made her feel something other than nothing.
“Listen, Princess.” Gods his voice was gravely, laced with anger and something that made her toes curl in her boots. “I see what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.”
“And what exactly am I doing, Azriel” she lets her voice drop low when she says his name, lifting that glass of wine to her mouth.
His hand snaps out, practically ripping the glass from her hand, “You think you can get under my skin, make me angry enough, make me want to put you in your damned place.”
She was on fire, burning and burning. A noise almost slips off her tongue as he turns the glass, placing his mouth directly on the spot hers had been, and throws the whole thing back, the strong column of his throat on perfect display to her. A primal part of her wants to sink her teeth into the flesh and leave her mark on him.
Azriel slams the glass down on the table, a crack forming in its stem, “You want me to make you feel something, you want to act like a brat to hide how fucking scared and lonely you feel.”
The heat stops, everything stops as he continues, “You want me to be your gods damned distraction from that fucking void in your chest.
“Fuck you,” she snarls, standing to copy his stance, leaning across that table like she’d jump it and tear his throat out instead of laying her claim, “you’re a piece of shit, shadowsinger.”
He leans in closer, close enough she can smell the wine on his breath, “I’ll take you when you’re done being a coward, Princess.”
And like it meant nothing, that soul baring sentence, he turns and stalks out of the room, shadows trailing behind him like they were trying to stay.
The glass is flying through the air, shattering on the arch of the doorway, and those lingering shadows scatter.
He felt like he was that glass, exploding into a million pieces. It took every ounce of self control to keep walking, to keep dampening that bond he could so strongly feel now that he was aware of it. He could feel her on the other side of that tendril of shadow, raging, desperate, scared, and lonely. So gods damned lonely.
Azriel understood the feeling, he’d felt it all day since the moment Rhys has spoken those words, his mate. He’d collapsed, no longer able to support himself and he’d spent those agonizing hours crying, letting Cassian and Rhys bear his weight. How cruel was fate to bring her to him, this female of pine and snow and fire that reminded him of home, this female that would eventually have to leave him.
His mate, a storm of ice, wind, and fire on the other side of that tendril of shadow that connected them. His mate, the warrior who’d handed him his ass on more than one occasion, who could get beneath his skin more than anyone he’d ever known. His mate, the most beautiful female he’d ever seen.
He’d felt her from the River house, the way her thoughts had spiraled out of control, the rage draining into nothingness, it scared the shit out of him, enough that he’d started to pull himself together, using his brothers to haul himself off the floor. It had taken longer than he would’ve liked to make himself presentable, to force his wings to work to take him to her, to dampen that bond so she wouldn’t feel the agony he was in.
When he’d seen her there, broken and lost, he needed to get her back, desperately needed her to come back from that edge. He was willing to shove his own agony into a box and put on a mask. He tugged once on that bond, begging her to fight it. And when she'd started to come back, when she started to play with him, he kept going, stoking that fire anyway he could, he brought back the rage from that morning, the desire in his blood, and they fought and pushed at each other.
He felt that primal urge to claim her right then and there, but he couldn't. He could feel her on the other side, feel the lust and fire, feel the despair hidden beneath. She wanted a distraction, not him, she wanted to hide from everything she was feeling and Azriel desperately wanted to do it, to take her over that table, over and over, to scream that she was his mate, to claim her as his. Instead he’d called her a coward, he really meant it about himself.
Azriel was terrified, to bare his soul only to have it ripped away through a gate across the stars. He would fall at her feet and she would still leave him, he wasn’t enough to make her stay, he knew that. She had a destiny, she would be a Queen in a far away land, and she would one day find a consort who would be able to stay by her side, love her, cherish her.
He felt sick. Barely making it to his room and into the bathroom before he heaved the contents of his stomach into the bowl. Azriel couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop the spasms in his abdomen, couldn’t stop the tears streaming down his face.
The mother was cruel, so very cruel.
Y/n couldn’t go back to her room, couldn’t be that close to him, she wasn’t sure what she would do if she was. Would she take her dagger to his throat, would she take all the rage in her blood and kill him, or would she cave into the desperate need to kiss him, to turn that anger into passion. Both options were bad ideas, enough that she begged the house to show her to a room as far away as possible.
When she woke with the sunrise, the unfamiliar room nearly sent her into a panic before the night before crashed back into her. All the pain and longing, the fire and rage, the numbness and loneliness. It was to much, these feelings, she felt like she was drowning in them, she needed to get out, get as far away as possible.
She was dressed and out the door, practically running down the halls to the closest balcony. The door was already open for her, the breeze welcoming her as she shifted and leapt of the edge, flying into the sunrise beyond.
She didn’t turn back, didn’t look to see the male who’s gaze she could feel like a brand across her back.
Two days had passed since Azriel watched her take off from the balcony across the house. He’d nearly flown after her, with how fast she was he wasn’t sure he’d even be able to catch her. But instead he just watched, watched as his mate flew as fast and as far away from him as she possibly could.
He’d waited for hours, scanning the skies for that majestic hawk form, but she didn’t come back. The bond grew fainter and fainter as she drifted farther and farther away. That was when the panic had set in. She didn’t know these lands, the creatures within, the fae who lurked in the shadows. Y/n was a warrior, a talented one at that, yet Azriel couldn’t help the fear that she would be hurt.
Cassian had found him on that ledge, had forced him inside, had forced him to eat, to sit down and gods damned breathe for a minute. And he’d stayed with him the rest of the day, through the night and the day after. The only thing that kept Azriel from losing control completely was that thread, no matter how faint, he could still feel her on the other side.
She was alive, burning, those swirling emotions screaming down the bond. Anger, despair, loneliness, longing, fear, so many emotions that mirrored everything Azriel felt. He wondered how much of it was her and how much of it was him.
By the end of the second day, sheer exhaustion had him falling into bed, his brother closing the door behind him to go find his own bed, his mate in it. Azriel was to tired to say anything, even the thank you Cassian deserved for staying with him, for holding him together.
Sleep took him, and he welcomed the blissful darkness.
Wake up, wake, she’s back, wake up, she’s here, outside, back. His body jolts, startled awake by the whispering shadows around his head. Even without them telling him, he knew she was back, could feel her close on the other side of that tether. Closer and closer she grew, coming down the hall towards him. He didn’t think, didn’t stop, just ran to the door, hauling it open to see her standing there, her back turned to him, hand resting on her own door.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
His voice is gravely, still heavy with sleep and lingering emotions that comes to the forefront as soon as her scent hits him.
“None of your business.” It lacks her usual snark, no heat behind it, “It’s late, I’m tired.”
His hand moves on its own, fingers wrapping around her bicep and pulling, rougher than he meant to be but in that moment he didn’t have it in him to care. He’d spent the last two days worrying, scared shitless over where she could be, he couldn’t control the fierce heat that rose in his blood.
She looks up at him, eyes ice cold, “What do you want?”
“Where have you been?” He repeats, each word sharp and short, “You can’t just disappear for two days and expect me to just-“
“Oh fuck off,” she snarls, “I don’t owe you shit, shadowsinger.”
He can feel the spark of anger in her, and it mirrors his own. She’d ran away, flown off to who knows where, and left him. She left him.
“It’s a simple question, Princess.” He pulls her closer to him, looking down at her, “Why do you have to make everything so difficult.”
She gives him one of those sweet little smiles that makes him see red, makes the reins on his control snap. His hand shoots up, wrapping behind her neck and gripping a handful of her hair, pulling so she’s looking up at him. Her mouth opens, most likely to yell at him, to snarl and snap those lethal teeth at his throat, but he doesn’t give her the chance.
Their lips crash together, viciously devouring each other. Azriel pours every emotion he had felt in the past few days into it, the heat and anger, the despair and loneliness, the desire. He decided then that he didn’t care, he would take what she would give him, would be her distraction, would lay his soul bear for her, would let her rip his heart from his chest to bring it with her when she left him behind. He didn’t care that it would kill him to let her leave, to let her leave and never know that he was her mate, he didn’t care, he needed her, needed to feel her, to worship her.
He holds her to him, wrapping one arm around her waist, the other gripping her hair to keep her exactly where he wants her. Her hand grips his arm, nails digging into the flesh, her other grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls him impossibly closer.
There was no softness, no gentle touch and soft passion, it was hard and painful. Her teeth drawing blood from his lip where she bites him, his hand bruising her sides where he holds her.
“You’re a fucking prick,” she snarls against him, pulling away just enough that he can still feel her lips against his.
The hand in her hair roughly pulls, forcing her back so that he can look her in the eyes, he notes the small moan that she tries to hold back, “You’re infuriating, Princess.”
She presses closer to him and he almost hisses at the contact, “I can feel just how infuriated you are, shadowsinger.”
He lets go of her hair, reaching down to her thighs to hoist her up. Her legs wrap around his hips as he presses her body into the door behind her. The sound she makes almost brings him to his knees. He can feel her pressed against him, his cock straining in his leathers.
“I can’t stand you.” Her head falls back against the door, letting him trail his lips and tongue down her throat, “You insufferable male."
He finds her pulse and nips at the sensitive spot. It draws a heady sigh from her lips, he does it again just so he can hear that sweet sound. She claws at his back as he wraps is lips around that spot, writhing against him as he leaves a deep purple mark. Azriel has to grip her thighs even harder to keep her still, or he’d lose his mind completely and take her against the wall.
“Gods,” she pants, “Azriel please.”
He kisses that claiming mark, “Please what, Princess?”
She lets out a soft growl, pushing his face away from her neck. Her lips find his again, her nails digging painfully into his cheek. He groans into it and holds her up with one arm, using the other to unlatch the door. It swings open and he takes them inside, slamming it shut behind him. Only the soft moon light illuminates the space, Azriel doesn’t need it to find her bed.
He practically throws her onto the center of it, grinning at the feral hiss she lets out, “I’m not a damned rag doll, you bastard.”
Y/n props herself up on her elbows, looking up at him with those eyes on fire. She looks delicious in the soft light, hair a mess, lips swollen, that mark on her neck a deep dark purple. A sick sense of purely male pride overwhelms him, she would walk around with that bruise for days, and everyone would know she belonged to him.
“No of course not,” he smirks, slowly crawling onto the bed, over her, caging her in, “A rag doll wouldn’t talk back this much.”
“I hate you,” she sighs, glaring up at him.
“That’s fine.” It wasn’t, it was the opposite of fine. “You can hate me all you want.”
He doesn’t let her respond, doesn’t let her wield that poison tipped tongue to open the wound in his heart anymore. Instead, his scarred hands grip the soft material of her shirt and rips.
Azriel groans at the sight, and Y/n gasps as the chilled air drifts across her exposed chest. Soft and perfect, large and heavy, Azriel takes her in, the valley between that leads down to her belly, the curve of her waist, he devours her with his eyes. Her arms lift to cover herself but his fingers wrap around her wrists and pins them roughly above her head. He wouldn’t let her hide from him.
“Beautiful, so gods damned perfect,” he growls, leaning down to capture one of the peaks in his mouth.
Her back arches off the bed, pressing closer to his tongue, to his teeth that pinch the little bud, drawing a sharp gasp from her. He keeps her wrists in one hand, the other trailing down to her chest, gripping the soft flesh in his palm and squeezing. He groans against her, keeping his hold on her wrist despite the way she writhes and pulls against him. The most devastatingly melodic sounds fall from her lips, moans and pleading sighs.
“What do you want, Princess?” He asks, trailing kisses across her soft skin, leaving those claiming bruises as he goes, “Tell me what you want.”
“More,” she groans, hissing when he takes a nipple between his fingers, squeezing and rolling it without mercy, “More, I need more, I need to touch you.”
He grins, “Don’t be greedy, Princess.”
She growls and pulls against the hold on her wrists, desperately trying to break free of his iron grip. Of course she’d fight him, even now when he was ready to lay the world at her feet, she would fight him. He lets her win, lets her rip her hands from his, lets her use those claws to rip at his shirt, tearing it from his body like he’d done to her.
“Did that make you feel better?” He taunts, smirking at the way her eyes take him in.
“Shut up.”
Her hands trace the tattoos across his chest, nails dragging across him with just enough pressure to draw a hiss from his lips. Violent, wicked, beautiful. She was perfect, so damned perfect.
He drops his lips to the valley between her breasts, kissing down the plane of her stomach while his fingers deftly work at the ties of her leathers. Her hands drag through his hair, tugging at the strands as she gasps and moans at every touch.
Azriel makes quick work of her leathers, roughly tugging them down her thighs, throwing them behind them without care. Her scent washes over him, sweet arousal that has him growling low in his chest. The delicate black fabric covering her center is easy to tear off her body, revealing all of her to him.
“Look at you,” he groans, sitting back on his heels so he could see all of her, “Perfect, absolutely perfect.”
“I told you I was your type,” she breathes, that saccharine on her lips.
Azriel shifts, placing himself directly between her legs, his scarred hands pushing apart her thighs so he could see her dripping for him. His fingers dig into her strong thighs, more bruises for her to wear.
“Az,” she whines, glaring through her heavy lidded eyes, “don’t just stare, do some-“
Her pleas turn into desperate moans as he drops his head to her, laying down between her thighs so he can properly worship her. He runs is tongue directly over her center, tasting her like she was his last meal to savor. So impossibly sweet, her taste has him growling against her.
“Fuck, Az,” Y/n practically screams, rolling her hips as his tongue circles the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.
He could do this for hours, flattening his tongue against her, sucking, biting, bringing out those noises that sound like music to his ears. The hands in his hair pull and push like she can’t tell if she needs him closer or to stop, he has to pin her to the bed with his arm to stop her from writhing away.
He can feel her on the other side of the bond no matter how hard he tries to dampen in, can feel the intense pleasure, it ripples through him, making him strain against his leathers uncomfortably. He has to press his hips into the bed to relieve some of the pain of it.
“Gods damnit,” she gasps, “Az, I- fuck.”
He’s half tempted to taunt her for the way she stumbles over the words, but to do that he’d have to take his mouth off of her and he wasn’t willing to do that. Instead, he takes is free hand, softly tracing it up her thigh, until it’s posed at her entrance. He uses a single scarred finger, dragging it through her wetness. Her hips desperately try to chase the digit and he laughs against her, sending a shiver through her at the vibration.
“Please,” she begs, and it’s the sweetest sound he’d ever heard, “Az, please.”
Azriel doesn’t hesitate to plunge into her, groaning at the feeling, grinding his cock into the bed. She’s moaning and cursing as he curls his finger to find that spot inside that would make her see stars, that would have her coming undone on his tongue. When she screams his name, he knows he’s found it and he keeps brushing the spot over and over as his mouth devours her clit. He adds a second finger, the tight stretch around them nearly enough to send him over the edge.
“Az, don’t stop,” Y/n gasps, head thrown back in pleasure, “please I-“
There on the other side of that tendril of shadow he feels the band in the pit of her stomach tighten and tighten. His tongue flattens against her, his fingers curl, and that band snaps.
He doesn’t stop, keeps rolling his tongue over her, keeps moving his fingers as the shocks run through her, his arm pinning her down as she writhes beneath him. Wave after wave after wave until she’s pulling away from him, trying to escape the pleasure that slowly turns into delicious pain.
“Az, please,” Y/n sobs, “I can’t, fuck, please.”
It takes more effort than he’s willing to admit to pry himself away, the way she gasps as his fingers pull out of her makes him want to go right back in. Addictive, she is absolutely addictive.
Y/n goes limp beneath him, panting like she’d ran a marathon, he’s half tempted to tease her for that too if she didn’t look so tired. Eyes heavy like she was fighting to stay awake.
It only hits him then that she had been out, Mother knows where, for days, flying far enough away that he could barely feel her through the bond. She had to be exhausted, and Azriel had throughly worn out any energy she might have had left.
He pulls away, tugging down the rumpled sheets. She doesn’t acknowledge what he’s doing, not until he’s carefully wrapping his arms around her, one behind her back the other below her legs. She’s almost limp in his arm as he gently lays her at the head of the bed.
“What are you doing?” She asks, voice hoarse, “What about you?”
His cock was begging for attention, begging for her hand, for her mouth, for her cunt. He’d need to take care of himself to get rid of the aching need.
Azriel brings the duvet up to her chin, “I’m fine, Princess. You need to sleep.”
“But-“
He grins down at her, leaning down to brush his lips across her cheek, “Don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet. I have a whole list of ways to ravish you. You’ll be begging me to let you sleep.”
A soft whine, “Az, I want-“
“Sleep, Princess.” He stands, moving towards the door, “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Azriel has to force himself to take each step away from her when everything in him is screaming for him to turn around and take everything she had to offer. His shadows plead with him to stop, to do just that, pulling back towards her against the tight reins he keeps on them.
“Az.” The softest whisper, he almost doesn’t hear it, “Stay, please.”
Y/n looks at him, those eyes still heavy with sleep and an emotion so raw, so open, that he can’t help it when he says, “Of course, Princess.”
Tag list
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#these two have zero idea how to properly communicate#gone is that soft early morning talk#we’re here for the pure horniness#also I have written smut like once before so let me know if this is trash or not#acotar#azriel x reader#acotar x reader#azriel#rowaelin daughter#rowaelin#not again
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Text
Kitty Cat | Drabble
Pairing: Modern!Az x Fem!Reader
Summary: A normal night for Azriel, his wife, and his son (a cat.)
Warnings: the briefest mention of oral (m receiving) but it’s all fluff :)
1.1k words
The black cat was curled into a ball, lying on my stomach as I petted between his ears and he purred, small vibrations coming from Shadow. “Aren’t you just the cutest kitty ever?” I hum as the cat looks up at me with wide golden eyes, his ears cocking at the pitch of my voice.
“Your dad’s gonna be home with more treats I promise,” I smile at the cute animal and he meows in reply, I giggle and scratch under his chin. “But you like me more than him don’t you?” I grin wildly.
The door knob rattles and me and the cat both look in the direction of the noise, and within a second my husband enters with three grocery bags in his hands.
“Welcome home,” I raise my arms in a cheer. “No hug today?” He frowns, missing the usual embrace I gave him every time he came home. “I’m a little preoccupied,” I gesture down to the kitten who couldn’t be bothered to spare a glance at his original owner.
Azriel only shook his head and walked into the kitchen where he set the bags and his briefcase down then quickly returned, coming back to the living room and pulling his tie loose then undoing the first few buttons of his collared shirt, revealing his dark tattoos. I smiled and reached my hand out toward him as he approached my side.
“Isn’t he so cute?” I croon, looking down at the kitten. “Are you talking about me or the cat?” Azriel arches his brow. “The cat,” I giggle, looking up at him. He scoops Shadow off my stomach and I whine, missing the comfort of the animal. “I bought you treats, and you repay me by stealing my wife?” He holds the kitten in one of his large hands, holding him up to his face as he narrows his eyes on the dumbfounded kitten. “He’s innocent!” I defend and Azriel shakes his head placing the cat by my feet.
“Shadow’s a war criminal, don’t let him fool you.” My husband jokes in a serious tone before flipping over me, slowly lowering down so as not to crush me as he rests his head on my chest, his waist between my thighs, replacing himself with the cat.
“How was your day?” I ask as my hand weaves into his dark hair. “Better now that I’m home,” He says, stuffing his nose into my breasts and I chuckle, twirling a lock of his hair around my ring finger.
“How about you?” He propped his head up to look at me. “The usual,” I shrug. “Cleaned around the house, played with Shadow— oh I found a movie for us to watch that I think you might like,” I grin excitedly. “It’s a horror.” I sing.
“But you don’t like horrors,” He tilts his head and I smile. “I know but, you do,” I shrug. “Besides, we watch what I want all the time, and this one actually seemed interesting,” I explain and a smile pulls at his lips, he leans up and presses a soft kiss to my lips. “I love you,” He whispers against my mouth and I blush at the three simple words, he was my husband and yet he still had me going pink. “Love you too,” I murmur.
I hear a familiar meow and then look to Shadow who had climbed up Azriel’s back and was staring at me from over his shoulder. I giggle and remove my hand from Azriel’s hair in order to pet the kitty. “I love you too Shadow,” I reassure and he leans into my hand, licking my palm with closed eyes.
“Okay, go change I’ll get the movie ready,” I say, shooing him off of me and he groans, guiding Shadow off his shoulder and down onto the floor before getting off me and disappearing into our bedroom.
While he’s gone I turn the TV on and find the movie, then I get up from the sofa and walk into the kitchen, unpacking the groceries— tossing Shadow a few treats that Az just bought, while I wait.
I put a pack of popcorn into the microwave and watch impatiently through the window like a child. “It’s not going to cook any faster if you stare at it,” Azriel hums as he snakes his arms around my waist, his bare chest coming into contact with my back. I turn to look up at him, dark tattoos twining from his forearms to his collarbone, the same ones I’ve traced thousands of times.
“I put the groceries away,” I utter, running a fingertip down the ink on his neck. “And I found that you got me my favorite chips,” I smile, biting into my lower lip. “I noticed we were out,” He shrugs, hands on my hips. “You’re getting the sloppiest head for that,” I say innocently, pecking his lips, leaving him utterly stunned.
I smirk mischievously and the microwave beeps. I swirl around and take the hot bag out, pouring the buttery snack into one large bowl.
Azriel plops himself down onto the couch and I find my spot next to him, tucking my legs up to my chest as I lean into him and he starts the movie.
I had been so confident in myself for picking this movie in broad daylight but now that it was dark outside and the lights in the house were off, I was starting to doubt my fear tolerance.
Azriel wrapped an arm around me as I anxiously snacked on the popcorn balanced on my knees.
A few jumpscares and a minor heart attack later I was officially terrified and had my head stuffed into Azriel’s chest, my other hand over my eyes, peeking through my fingers and barely watching the screen. I look up to Azriel who had an amused grin on his face as he observed me, how I cuddled a little closer to him every time the suspenseful music picked up, or how I looked at him instead when the killer showed up on screen, watching through the reflection of his eyes.
“I’m starting to think this was a bad idea,” I confess, frowning up at him. “I think this is the best idea you’ve had in a while my love,” He presses a hard kiss to my temple. “It was my idea to get Shadow!” I defend, and as if on queue the cat jumps up onto the couch, meowing. “Now that was a bad idea,” He hums as the kitty burrows into his other side.
The three of us all cuddled up, sharing the intimate moment. I intertwined my hand with Azriel’s and cherished the warm feeling blooming in my chest. “Oh shut up, you love him,” I rolled my eyes and the cat looked up at me, kneading his paws into Azriel’s torso. “I do,” My husband rubbed the top of his head and the cat purred, nuzzling into his owner's touch.
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#acotar#suriels tea#fanfic#a court of thorns and roses#sarah j maas#x reader#azriel#acomaf#request#bat boys#azriel x you#azriel fluff#azriel x reader#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#cat#modern azriel#modern acotar#x you fluff#x you#he’s so cute#Azzie#reader insert#fem reader
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