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drinkingcoffee-inthedark · 1 year

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Unrequited

Part Five

Warning(s): Smut, Angst

Pairing(s): Azriel x Reader, Lucien x Reader

Word Count: 2805

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out!! I’ve had a hectic couple of weeks! We moved, it was my birthday, and I’ve been working through some health issues. I hope part 5 was worth the wait!!

It was a long week working with Madja, and you were exhausted. You were grateful to the older female for sharing her knowledge, but it was draining. You didn’t get a chance to talk to Azriel all week. Barely even got the chance to eat or sleep.

At the end of the week, the last thing you wanted to do was have a conversation that you knew would be emotionally draining. You weren’t sure you’d even be standing after work, let alone after spilling your heart out to Azriel.

Just when you were thinking about soaking in the tub with a relaxation potion Madja taught you how to make, you felt a scrape against your mental shield. You groaned out loud, but allowed Feyre access anyway.

‘Family dinner at the River House tonight. Please come.’

You stifled your sigh. You hadn’t seen much of the rest of the in we circle at all in the last couple of weeks. Between what happened with Azriel, and working with Madja, you haven’t had time. You weren’t necessarily ignoring your family, but it did make things a little bit easier to manage at the moment.

‘I’ll be there.’ You told the High Lady.

‘Thank you!’

You snapped your mental shield back into place, feeling a little bit guilty at how excited Feyre was to see you. She’s always been a good friend. You made a mental note to spend more time with her when you could.

The thought of seeing Azriel had your shoulders tensing, and you opted to take that bath after all. You still had a few hours before you had to be at the River House.

You ran warm water into the oversized basin, and picked up the vial that had the relaxation potion. You swirled the purple liquid around a few times, the scent of lavender filling your nose. You took a deep breath, before emptying the vial into the tub.

Quickly removing your clothes, you sank into the steaming water and sat back against the soft curve of the tub. You sighed happily, sinking lower in the water.

You tried your best to clear your thoughts, but your mind kept wandering to thoughts of each of your lovers.

Lucien, who had fire in his heart, and the glow of the sun in his veins. Emissary, Warrior, and future High Lord. You knew he would be some day. He was a born leader with his strength and compassion. A good male, who managed to be snarky and charming all at once.

And then there was Azriel. His exterior was dark and brooding, but deep down- deep down Azriel had a heart of gold. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for his family. A fierce and loyal warrior, who moved in the shadows. Azriel had an outward arrogance that made his enemies flinch, but the part of him that you got to see was what made you fall in love with him.

You couldn’t stop your mind from flitting between thoughts of their other…attributes.

Lucien’s flowing red hair, and his stunning sharp features. His toned, tan body. The way he made you feel so good…

You couldn’t stop your fingers from trailing down your body, the way that Lucien’s did when you were with him. You tweaked your nipple lightly and groaned, feeling heat building between your legs.

You though about Azriel with his piercing hazel eyes, and soft, dark hair. The way his muscles flexed when he moved. His large, rough hands…

Your fingers circled your clit and you hissed out, suddenly needing the release of tension after the long week.

Letting out a steady breath, you spread your legs a little wider and let your head dip back against the cool edge of the tub.

You closed your eyes and worked your fingers diligently around the sensitive bud, and allowing thoughts of both men to fill your head. It felt so wrong to be thinking of two men at once, and you knew shame would take over as soon as the pleasure ebbed. But for now, you allowed yourself to enjoy it.

You gritted your teeth as you felt your release building in the pit of your stomach. Your body tensed and you felt your toes curling. Allowing the ecstasy to override your thoughts, you found yourself picturing a fantasy that had been in the back of your head for months: a threesome with both of your lovers. The mere thought of having both males pleasure you at the same time sent you over the edge, and you came with a shaky moan.

And as you knew it would, guilt followed the pleasure, as it always did. You knew it wasn’t rational to feel that way, but part of you knew that this arrangement would make it nearly impossible to fulfill your ultimate fantasy- Azriel being in love with you too. He knew too much of your relationship with Lucien. He couldn’t feel the same way about you knowing that you were with another male.

Shaking the thoughts away, you washed quickly, and set to getting ready for dinner.

You showed up at the River House in a fitted, black, satin dress that went to your knees and hugged your curve’s beautifully. You paired it with simple black heels and small pear jewelry. It wasn’t often that you got to dress up lately, so you wanted to make the most of it. Your hair was pinned up in a delicate, but simple updo, and you kept your makeup neutral. It wasn’t an overtly glamorous look, but it was elegant, and you felt beautiful.

Before you could even knock on the door, Cerridwen was ushering you into the house with a smile, which you graciously returned.

The half-wraith guided you into the sitting room where most of your family was already relaxing, each nursing glasses of wine.

Your eyes immediately spotted Lucien’s bright red hair, and you did your best to contain your surprise. The inner circle all had their own opinions on the Emissary, and most of them were negative. Still, you were happy to see him. You smiled at him, before you were suddenly pulled into a tight hug.

Feyre.

You laughed and hugged the High Lady back.

“Fey!”

“(Y/N), I’m so glad you’re here!”

You laughed again, and saw Rhysand walking up behind his mate.

“Feyre Darling, you’re going to choke the life out of (Y/N) if you don’t let her go!” He teased.

Feyre relented and let you go and you smiled brightly and them.

“If that’s how I go, I’ll be honored,” You teased back, and Rhys smirked.

“Me too,” He agreed, a wicked glint in his eyes.

“Gross.” Cassian quipped from his spot next to Nesta on the sofa, his nose crinkling in disgust.

Nesta snorted out a laugh, but nodded in agreement with her mate.

Just as you were about to take the seat in the other side of Nesta, Azriel stepped into the room and his eyes met yours immediately. He glanced between you and Nesta, and you knew.

Nesta had told him that you know he is mated. And she must’ve told him your reaction.

You watched him carefully, taking in the emotion swirling behind his eyes. So unlike the cool mask he usually wore.

“(Y/N).” He breathed out.

You cleared your throat, and glanced at him cooly.

“Azriel.” You greeted, nodding at him politely. You were determined to not let the male see that you were bothered.

In a few strides, he was at your side, “Can I talk to you?? Outside?” He asked. You felt the eyes of the inner circle in you, and you had to stop your eyebrows from twitching in surprise. You didn’t think he would be so bold- so obvious- in front of everyone else.

“I’m sure talk of spying and missions can wait until after dinner.” You said, playing dumb. You knew you needed to talk to Azriel, but not right here. Not like this.

He eyed you carefully, and paused for a moment, before nodding.

“Right. Sure.” He reluctantly agreed.

As if sensing their cue, Nuala and Cerridwen appeared in the doorway and announced that dinner was ready.

The group made their way into the dining hall and sat at the table. You opted to sit by neither Lucien or Azriel, and placed yourself between Cassian and Feyre, across from Elain. It seemed like the safest seat to avoid anymore awkward encounters.

The two half-wraiths served dinner to the table, a massive feast of roast chicken, more vegetables than you could count, and freshly baked bread. It looked absolutely delectable.

As everyone plated their food, you chatted amongst yourselves, relishing in the easy conversation with loved ones.

Talk of fighting and training and war, held off until halfway through the dinner, which thoroughly impressed you. It usually didn’t take long before the males were boasting about their battles and strength.

But it was a refreshing surprise when the topic came up and it was Nesta that brought up the topic, launching into stories of the Valkyries and their training.

Once Nesta ran out of tales to tell of her adventure with Gwyn and Emerie, she turned to you and asked about your training with Madja. You launched into a story about a potion gone wrong, laughter erupting from the table.

After the laughter subsided, Cassian turned his attention to Elain, who hadn’t uttered a single word during all of dinner.

“How’s your training with Amren going?” He asked her politely. You knew she was a Seer, but you weren’t quite sure how that gift operated. You were happy to see the middle Archeron sister training and embracing her Cauldron blessed gift.

“It’s going alright,” Elain shrugged, a cool smirk playing on her pink lips, “I was able to use my…powers in some unexpected ways.”

“How so?” Cassian asked, curiosity evident in his handsome features.

“I can see when people have secrets sometimes. Like (Y/N).”

You went still at her words.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You said evenly, eyes locking with hers.

“So you’re not fucking two people sitting at this table?” She said, sarcastic innocence lacing her words.

Somewhere at the table, silverware clattered, and a cup slammed down on the table so hard that the whole thing jolted. Someone gasped- you weren’t sure who it was- but all you could focus on was the woman across the table from you. The glare you threw in the direction was deadly. Pure ice swirled in your eyes, and you gritted your teeth.

“Elain-” Feyre started, trying to silence her sister.

“That’s none of your fucking business,” You spat, cutting off the High Lady.

“Oh, but isn’t it, (Y/N)? It wasn’t enough to just sleep with my mate,” The disdain dripped from her lips. She still couldn’t even say his name. The fact that she still felt some sort of claim to Lucien even though she rejected the bond had your blood boiling. Elain had no right to Lucien. Especially not now.

Nearly all eyes at the table shot to Lucien, who had his eyes fixed on you. Your own eyes were still carefully trained on Elain, sizing her up like an enemy, just the way Cassian had taught you.

The wide, wicked grin looked so foreign on her mouth. Her eyes flitted over each face at the table, seeming to thrive on the palpable shock and discomfort. It would have sent a shiver down your spine if you weren’t so alight with rage.

“Elain,” Feyre tried again, pleading now.

“You just had to fuck Azriel, too.”

All at once, the heads at the table whipped to face Azriel, with his gaze still firmly on you. From where you sat, you had a clear view of Rhys’s face, gaping like a fish. You’d never seen the High Lord speechless before and it would have been comical in a different circumstance.

A sharp intake of breath- from Nesta, maybe- then all eyes were back to you. You secretly cursed them all, hoping they’d get whiplash from the force of how fast they looked between Lucien, and you, and Azriel, then back to you. Bunch of nosy motherfuckers.

Elain’s lip curled up, making her look nothing like the sweet girl you met a year ago. She had been so kind, so lovely. Becoming Fae broke her; it snapped her right in two. And now she was this spiteful, angry creature in front of you. She eyed her sisters lazily.

“Be careful, sisters. She took both of my males. She’s probably sleeping with Rhys and Cassian, too.”

Her males? You were seeing red. How dare she? Azriel, so observant, so sweet, had been a great comfort to her when she arrived in Velaris. You knew that. You knew they were friends. But he wasn’t hers. He wasn’t even yours.

A strangled noise came from Cassian’s throat, something between utter disbelief and sharp protest.

You flew to your feet with such force that your chair sailed backwards, tipping over in the marble floor with a stinging thwack. You slammed your hands on the table, absolutely seething.

“Shut your fucking mouth, Elain,” You snarled at her viciously. It only made her smile wider. Delight glittered in her beautiful doe eyes. The air was so thick, so uncomfortable, so tense that you swore Azriel could’ve sliced right into it with Truth Teller. You didn’t dare to look at anyone else.

“The same could probably be said to you. But you can’t stay off your knees-”

You couldn’t even think, sheer blind rage propelled you across the table. You lunged at her, sending plates and cups flying. A symphony of gasps sounded around you, and Rhys and Feyre were on their feet in seconds.

Feyre, shielding her sister from you, had a look in her face that you couldn’t even identify. A mix of despair and anger. Whether it was directed at you or for you, you had no clue. Rhys’s hands were on your shoulders, fingers digging in hard. Bruising. Holding you back from tearing out Elain’s delicate throat. Your eyes went wild, glaring between Feyre and Elain. Calculating carefully if your rage was worth the risk.

“Whore.” The word, laced with more malice than you knew possible, fell from Elain’s lips. Even Rhys recoiled at the insult that was leveled at you. The same thing people sneered at him for 49 years Under The Mountain. The silence was deafening for a beat. Then another.

And then Azriel was on his feet and at your side.

“Let her go,” His voice was low and soft. You could feel the anger radiating off him, and you were afraid that the anger was directed at you. For losing your cool. For being a threat to the middle Archeron sister.

Rhys hesitated for a moment, and you didn’t have to look to know there was a silent conversation being had. After a breath, Rhys relented and dropped his hands.

Azriel took your shaky hand in his. Shadows swirled around your legs, circling up, and up, and up until darkness surrounded you both. The shadows swallowed you whole. You were winnowing, you realized. Winnowing through the shadows. You almost forgot that Azriel could do that. He prefers to fly whenever he can. Your shoulders sagged, exhaustion mixing with a hint of relief.

When the shadows eased up around you, you realized that Azriel took you to the cabin in the Illyrian Mountains. You could feel Azriel’s intense gaze on you, as you started just as intently at the floor. Azriel’s hand was still on yours and released a shaky breath that you didn’t know you were holding. The two of you stood at the center of the living room, nothing but the sound of your breathing in the air. The silence echoed in your ears.

Azriel tugged on your hand gently and led you to the couch. You sat down stiffly and carefully avoided looking at him. He sat down next to you and studied your profile.

“(Y/N)?” He asked. You hummed in response. “Do you want to talk about it?” His voice was so soft that it made you ache. He knew better than to ask you if you were okay. It was clear you weren’t. You were humiliated. Shame radiated through every pore in your body. You shook your head.

Azriel gently lifted your chin with his fingertips, forcing you to meet his eyes. You could’ve crumbled completely with the way he looked at you. So open and caring. He brushed a stray lock of your hair behind your ear and your face flushed at the intimate gesture.

“We don’t have to talk about it right now. But we’ll have to talk soon, okay?” You nodded, then cleared your throat softly.

“I know.”

A/N 2: I just want to state that I am not anti-Elain and no offense is intended to those who love/identify with her. She is only written that way for the sake of this story!

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theostrophywife · 2 years

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karaoke night.

masterlist (azriel x reader) author's note: just a bit of fluff for everyone's favorite bat boy. enjoy! summary: during a night out, the shadowsinger proves that he can, in fact, sing.

You were only supposed to be gone for a moment.

You weren’t expecting Rita’s to be this crowded tonight. As you pushed through the packed crowd, you almost wished you’d taken Cassian up on his offer to pay for this round, but in his current state, your friend could barely manage to walk - let alone balance a tray of drinks through the boisterous crowd. Pile him with alcohol and the feared general turned into a clumsy, overgrown toddler. A giant Illyrian baby, just like Feyre always called him.

You couldn’t help but smile as you made your way over to the bar. For once, things were quiet in Velaris. There was no longer a looming threat of war. The tension between the High Lords had come to a ceasefire. Rhys hadn’t sent you out on a mission in over a month. All was well in the city that you loved. At least for the moment.

However temporary it was, you were determined to enjoy being home.

The bartender greeted you, making conversation about your recent ambassadorial trip to the Continent and her daughter’s latest project at Feyre’s art studio. You promised to drop by later in the week to see the painting before she scurried off to fetch your usual order. You smiled, cherishing the moment. It was the little things that made Velaris feel like home.

As you leaned against the wooden countertop, a male sauntered up to you. He was handsome and made polite conversation, but you were only half-listening. You knew that he was flirting with you and while you were flattered, you weren’t interested. He just wasn’t your type.

Because your type was a certain mysterious, brooding Illyrian warrior who also happened to be your closest friend.

You shook the thought away. The reason you insisted on fetching the drinks was so you could clear your head from being in such close proximity to the Shadowsinger who often invaded your thoughts and now thanks to the private suite upstairs, also invaded your personal space. The room, which was reserved for the Inner Circle’s more intimate gatherings, was starting to feel a little stuffy.

It was usually fine, but with Amren bringing Varian along and Mor finally gathering up the nerve to ask Emerie out, the space was a little more crowded than normal. You didn’t begrudge your friends for bringing their significant others. They were the best people you knew and they deserved to be happy, but you were literally an inch away from ending up in Azriel’s lap.

Not that you’d mind that. But you didn’t know if he’d mind that.

To be perfectly honest, your relationship with the Shadowsinger was a little confusing. The two of you were close. You often talked into the late hours of the night, discussing anything and everything. Azriel understood you in a way that no one else ever has and your friendship was so closely-knit that even Cassian was jealous. You told each other everything. Well, except for the fact that you were hopelessly in love with him.

Sometimes you wondered if the lingering stares, the accidental touches, and the palpable tension between you was all in your head. If it was anyone else, you would’ve just outright asked. But this was Azriel. He was your best friend and you didn’t want to risk ruining your friendship.

You sighed, snapping your attention back to the male before you. He asked you a question, but you couldn’t recall what it was. Luckily, it seemed to be a rhetorical one since he was now pulling a golden coin from behind your ear. You suppressed the urge to snort. Was he actually performing a magic trick in the presence of the Night Court’s most powerful sorceress?

You smiled politely, looking over his shoulder as if that would somehow summon the drinks any faster. Fortunately for you, the bartender was returning with a tray in hand. Salvation at last.

“Do you need any help with that?” The male, sans gold coins and magic tricks, asks as you expertly hoist the tray over your head.

Before you could answer, the tray was being lifted from your hands as an arm snakes possessively through your waist.

“She doesn’t need any help.”

Like shadows given form, Azriel’s cold, smooth voice swept over you as he placed a kiss on your cheek. If his arm around your waist made your traitorous little heart rattle in your chest, his lips pressed against your skin threatened to send you into outright cardiac arrest. You said nothing as you looked up at him, mouth gaping at the sight of the Shadowsinger.

Beneath the glow of the golden faelights, Azriel looked like a dream. He was dressed casually tonight and you were inclined to deem it his best look yet. Instead of his usual fighting leathers, he wore dark trousers and a black silk shirt with the first few buttons undone, giving you a perfect view of the tattoos swirling through his chest. His wings were tucked tight behind his back, but you could’ve sworn that they flared slightly at the sight of the male.

Azriel’s dark hair was perfectly tousled and his cheeks were slightly tinged in the endearing way that they always were when he drank, but those eyes of his was what startled you the most. Shrouded in the darkness of his shadows, they glowed a bright, golden color as they landed on you with the intensity of a predator tracking his prey. Cauldron boil you, Azriel was going to be the end of you.

“Do you, my love?”

You raised a brow at the nickname, conveying your utter confusion at whatever the hell was going on. Azriel only smirked and you swore to the Cauldron that your heart leapt at the sight. Gods, he really had no business looking like that.

“I - I’m sorry. I didn’t know you two were together.”

Azriel leveled a gaze at the male that would’ve sent lesser men running. It was strange to think that the same male who participated in an annual snowball fight with Rhys and Cas was one of the most powerful Illyrians in history and the feared spymaster of the Night Court. The very sight of him incited fear out of most people, but not you. You were fortunate enough to know the real Azriel.

Still you couldn’t say that you minded this overprotective side of him.

“Now you do.” Azriel replies in a dark tone, as polite of a dismissal that the Shadowsinger could muster. “If you’ll excuse us, we should be getting back to our friends.”

Not awaiting the male’s reply, Azriel grabs a hold of your hand and navigates the both of you through a throng of people. You followed him up the stairs, struggling to keep up with his pace despite the fact that he was currently balancing a tray of drinks over his head. Damn those long legs of his.

When you finally reach the top, you completely lose it. You double over in laughter just as Azriel sets the drinks down on a sturdy surface.

“My love?” You ask incredulously.

He grins, giving you a full view of the hidden dimple on his right cheek. “Too over the top?”

“The liquor’s really gone to your head, Shadowsinger.”

“I -” Hiccup. “Haven’t -” Another hiccup. “Had that much to drink.”

“Very convincing.” You chuckle, nudging him with your hip.

“I clocked your discomfort from a mile away,” he replies with a chuckle. “Did he honestly think that would work?”

You grimaced. “I’d need at least another gallon of Rhysand's expensive wine to wash the memory down. You didn’t need to scare him half to death though. I had it handled.”

Azriel is still holding your hand as he leans against the wall. You looked down at your intertwined fingers and felt his grip loosen. It wasn’t a secret that Azriel was self-conscious about the scars on his hands, but you’ve always thought that they were beautiful. Just like the rest of him.

You squeezed his hand tighter, offering a small smile.

“I know you did. Scaring him was purely for my pleasure.”

That earned Azriel an eye roll. “Busybody. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you very much.”

“I don’t doubt that you could’ve had him on his ass if you wanted to, but you’re too nice to actually say anything and you looked so uncomfortable that I had to intervene.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “My shadows told me he pulled a coin out of your ear. Be honest with me, did he mistake you for a piggy bank?”

You slapped his arm, eliciting a dramatic gasp from the Shadowsinger. “If you mean to make fun of me, maybe I should take my chances with the magician.”

Azriel snorted. “He’s not your type.”

You quirked a brow. “How would you know?”

His grin grows wider. “I’m the spymaster, remember?”

“Keeping tabs on me now, I see.”

“Only when potential threats are nearby.”

“I’d hardly call him a threat.”

Azriel shrugs, but his eyes are trained on you. “He was a little over familiar, don’t you think?”

“Are you jealous, Az?”

“Of course I’m jealous. He’s talking to my best friend while she leaves me alone to fend for myself up here.”

You chuckle. “I haven’t been gone for that long and you’re not alone.”

“That’s true, but it’s more fun when you’re by my side.”

Your face heats as you pitch forward, praying to the Cauldron that your hair would hide the flush spreading over your cheeks. “I guess I owe you my gratitude all the same.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Cas somehow convinced everyone into participating in some sort of singing contest.”

You snorted. “And here I thought you were rescuing me out of the kindness of your own heart.”

Az actually shuddered. “You don’t need rescuing, but I might.”

“Do you think I could ask our new friend to teach me his trick? I’d pay at least a month’s worth of wages to witness your inebriated singing.”

“Over my dead body,” replies the Shadowsinger.

You shake your head. “So dramatic, but I am willing to wager something far more interesting. If you get in there and sing. I’ll…” A wicked smile tugs at your lips as the perfect bait came to mind. “I’ll read one of my romance books to you.”

Az squints, considering the offer. You could practically see the gears turning in that beautiful, complicated brain of his. For months, he’s teased you about the smutty books that you, Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie bonded over. He was so intrigued that he’d even asked you to read a passage aloud to him. You refused, frantically sprinting out of the room before he could press the matter even further. It only made him that much more curious.

Another pause and you knew Az would cave. “A full chapter and I get to choose.”

For a chance to hear him sing, you would have agreed to reading Sellyn Drake’s entire collection of novels. “Deal.”

The tingling sensation on the back of your neck officially sealed the bargain. You run your fingertips over the new tattoo, tracing the outline of the half crescent moon embedded into soft skin.

Azriel pulls down the collar of his shirt to show you the matching ink on his golden brown skin. “A sign of a deal well struck.”

You respond with a smirk. “Now get in there and sing, Az.”

As it turns out, the Shadowsinger could, in fact, sing. You watched in amazement as his voice embraced you with an angelic melody, amplified by the strange enchanted device that you picked up during your last trip to the Continent. The fact that Azriel had a lovely singing voice didn’t surprise you one bit. Your friend was irritatingly good at everything he set his sights to.

Even Cassian and Rhys, nearly stumbling over from the amount of alcohol they’d consumed, listened intently as Azriel sang. Beside you, Feyre and Nesta released a sigh, causing you to giggle. The sisters may be happily mated, but no one was immune to Azriel’s charms. Especially not you.

Mor sent you a knowing look from across the table as she draped an arm over Emerie’s shoulder. She was well aware of the feelings you had for Azriel and often encouraged you to make your affections known. With the matter between Mor and Azriel addressed and settled, she wanted nothing more than to see both of her friends happy.

Your move, the blonde mouthed.

As the honeyed wine worked its magic, warming your flesh and bones as your nerves settled into a pleasant hum, you childishly stuck a tongue out at your friend. Busybody.

Mor snorted in amusement and you ignored the way Azriel’s stare lingered on you as he sang the final notes. The beautiful crooning of the Shadowsinger came to an end as Rhys and Cassian snatched the enchanted innovation away from their brother, launching into a godsawful rendition of some bawdy song, complete with an uncoordinated array of movements that you supposed was meant to be an accompanying dance. You wouldn’t be surprised if the two had rehearsed this in their free time.

As Rhys dramatically serenaded Feyre, Cassian tugged at your hand.

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on, little witchling. I know you can sing. Nes and I hear you belting out songs from the bath all the time.”

You shot an accusing look at Nesta, who only offered a smile of amusement at her mate’s antics. “You’re lucky that I’m too drunk to argue,” you reply to Cassian.

The Illyrian warrior laughed, whirling you over to Rhys, who placed the enchanted little device up to your mouth. The three of you sang, voices melding together into a mixture of Rhysand’s cool tenor, Cassian’s low, rumbling bass, and your lilting falsetto. Rhys and Cas hook their elbows around yours, swinging and swirling you through the small space until you felt dizzy with laughter. You beamed when Feyre, Nesta, Mor, and Emerie rose from their seats to join your merry dancing.

Even Amren, who was curled up on the settee with Varian, smiled at the sight.

Feyre grasped your hand and twirled you through the air, pushing you straight into the solid wall that was Azriel’s chest. The Shadowsinger caught you by the waist, leading you into a soft sway as you breathed in the familiar scent of cedar and night-chilled mist.

“Chapter 42.” Azriel says softly. His hazel eyes glitter with mischief as your arms rest just above his shoulders.

“What?”

“The chapter that I want you to read to me.”

You chuckle, leaning into his open arms as your bodies clicked together like perfect pieces of a puzzle. You had to give it to him. Az never took his eyes off the prize.

“Since you gave one hell of a performance, I’m inclined to throw in another chapter. Free of charge.”

The rumble of Azriel’s laughter, deep and electrifying like the sound of thunder, washes over you.

Home.

It was good to be home.

“I think I like drunk Az better than sober Az.” You announce, carefully teetering through the cobblestone steps lining the dimly lit streets. Fresh, powdered snow crunched underneath your feet as you breathe in the crisp air. There was truly nothing better than the sight of glittering snowflakes raining down upon the frozen banks of the Sidra.

After tonight’s festivities, Rhys had to drag a drunk Cassian back to the River House. Feyre and Nesta trailed after their mates while Mor winnowed Emerie home. Amren and Varian had slinked off to her apartment sometime during the night, leaving you and Azriel alone. You suppose it would’ve been easier to fly home, but you wanted to drink in the blissful peace that had settled over Velaris. Azriel followed closely at your heels, his shadows dancing across his shoulders.

“Ouch.” The Shadowsinger said with feigned hurt, clasping a hand to his chest. “You wound me, angel.”

Your cheeks warmed at the nickname and Azriel smirked. He liked making you flustered, and especially now, with the aftereffects of the wine still buzzing through your skin and the white flurries crowning you with winter’s kiss, you were the perfect embodiment of an angel.

“I’m just saying. I didn’t even know you could sing until tonight. What else are you hiding from me, Az?”

He chuckled as the soft wind rustled through your hair. “More than you know. Mostly the fact that Cas cheated during your last game of cards.”

You squinted at the confirmation of your suspicions. “That giant Illyrian baby will pay.”

Azriel rolled his eyes fondly, walking quietly by your side as the stars glittered above. A beat of silence passed until he spoke again. “I think I like drunk Azriel better too. He was brave.”

You raised a brow. “I’ve never known you to be afraid.”

Azriel paused, his fingers lightly gripping your wrist. The two of you stopped below the the glow of the moonlight, enveloping you in the starkissed night as tender hazel eyes made your breath catch in your throat. In the middle of the quiet streets of the place you called home, his golden-brown skin washed in a soft, silver light, a dimple peeking from its hiding place, Azriel looked like heaven.

The cool, neutral mask Azriel wore slipped away and you saw him. Hopeful and shy, staring at you as though you were the only female in the world. He weighed the words on the tip of his tongue a hundred times over. Whether it was the wine or the male that had hit on you earlier, something pushed him to stop being afraid.

“The truth is, I’m a coward. I’m too afraid to tell my best friend that I’m in love with her.”

He wanted to tell you the day that you two returned from fighting Hybern or the day at the House as you sat curled up with your favorite book, cheeks pink from the explicit content, or the day that you knocked him on his ass in the training ring and every day in between since the moment he met you. Seeing you here, with fresh fallen snow coating your hair, grinning at him after a night out with his family, Azriel couldn’t hold it in any longer.

He loved you.

Your chest tightened. For the first time since you met him, Azriel looked nervous. As though he was offering his heart before you, vulnerable and exposed, yours to do with as you wished.

“I love you, too.”

Love seemed too simple of a word to describe what you felt for Azriel, but it was a good start.

Azriel breathed a sigh of relief and pulled you to him, noses touching with barely a wisp of breath separating your lips from his. He waited, careful and patient, for you to say yes. To his surprise, you rose on the tips of your toes and pressed your mouth firmly against his. The kiss was soft and gentle and it felt right, like the answer to an unasked question that you’ve been searching for your whole immortal existence. One hand weaved through your hair while the other snaked around your waist, lifting you off your feet and pulling you closer as his plush lips, tasting of honeyed wine and peppermint pressed soft kisses against your mouth.

“Angel?” Azriel murmured against your skin.

“Hmm?” You asked distractedly. Drunk not on wine, but Azriel himself. His mouth, his hands, his warmth. You wanted to drown in him.

“Make it three chapters.”

The smirk on his face, beautiful and glowing, made your heart ache.

“Shut up and kiss me, Az.”

So he did.

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needed-as-a-grace-note · 2 years

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Azriel x Reader ~ Burned

(a.n. This is my first one shot, please show me mercy)

Warnings: trauma, panic

The lights in the long hall of the house of wind gradually lighted and went out as you trudged to the kitchen. Stepping through the doorway, the house lit the lights for you in greeting. You managed a small smile, rubbing the sleep from you eyes. Ever since Nesta brought out the magic in the house, it had been your favorite place to stay, much to your mate, Azriel's, chagrin. You didn't mind sharing the space with the general and his mate ... Azriel, on the other hand, did (only when he was able to hear them, that is).

Now, the house was quite, as it was the well before the dawning hours in Velaris. Somehow, your light sleeper of a mate failed to wake after your hours of tossing and turning. Hoping a cup of tea would help, here you stood.

Pulling the kettle from the rack, you leaned against the counter, lifted the lid, and haphazardly filled it about half way. Yawning, you turned to the stove and set the kettle on to warm. Leaning against the wall, a small smile rose your lips as you closed your eyes, extending your forearm to the small shadow that swam to you. Even when he was asleep, his shadows had the habit of following you. Despite his control of them, a few always seemed to escape to be with you. You turned your forearm, chuckling as the shadow looped and looped around your wrist playfully.

At the whistle of the kettle, you reached for a chamomile tea bag and a mug before clicking the heat off. Still half asleep, you reached for the kettle, grasping the handle, taking a little too long to realize it had been kept on the heat too long, as the handle itself had started to warm.

With a curse, you flinched and let the kettle drop to the stove from the few inches of height you held it at. The shadow around your wrist began viciously twisting and writing as you jogged over to the sink, running the fresh pink mark on your palm under the cool water. You winced and held back a groan at the slight burn and pins and needles the water caused as it dribbled against the burn.

You hadn't even heard him approach. You naturally jumped as his strong back pressed against your shoulders, his arm tracing yours until he grasped your wrist. You sharply turned over your shoulder upon feeling the heightening of his breath. Azriel's eyes were blown wide, scanning your hand as he gently turned your wrist back and forth, attempting to fully assess the damage.

He had been jolted away by whispers of his shadows. Burned. She's burning. Immediately on alert, he leapt out of bed, shadows swirling around him. He prided himself on his cool countenance he constantly held, which was especially effective and essential to his job as the court's spymaster. When it came to you, and the idea of you in pain, all of his precarious training and that calm countenance went out the window.

He absolutely feared the worst. Only when his shadows lead him towards the kitchen did he stop the rambling thoughts in his head. He cursed his shadows for not elaborating, their words immediately triggering his idea of his worst nightmare; you burning as he did when he was young.

He exhaled a breath as he met your eyes, guiding your hand back under the cool water. You gazed at him, reading the panic recede from his face. You leaned into him, resting your head on his bare chest.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, knowing the process of thoughts and emotions that must have been flowing through him, finding the bed empty and his shadows whispering to him your condition. He wrapped his free arm around your waist, leaning his cheek on the top of your head as he exhaled.

"It's okay," he whispered, nuzzling into your hair. "Your always so clumsy when you're tired."

You slightly tapped the arm holding you tight to him, returning your gaze to the burn on your hand that was finally numb, huffing.

"Am not....." you whispered, trailing off as he chuckled against you.

You tilted forward with the curve of his body as he reached to turn off the tap. Still gripping the wrist of your burned hand, he brought it to his lips and gave the flush skin a grazing kiss. Tucking your head into his shoulder, you brought the same hand holding yours to your lips, mimicking his sweet kiss.

In one fluid motion, he swept you in his arms, beginning the slow walk back to your room, both of you forgetting the abandoned kettle and mug of tea on the stove.

#azriel x reader #acotar #acosf #acofas #acotar one shot #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #fluff #acotar reader #acowar #azriel reader

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pascalmode · 2 years

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In The Stars (6 - The Music of Velaris)

The beginning of this one is angsty, but hopefully the second half makes up for it. Send me a message and tell me what you thinkkk! or any questions you have! ily! have a good day!

Az x TOG!OC

Words: 4.6k

Warnings: Asteria has a panic attack, descriptions of anxiety and existential dread, very negative self talk, a little angst followed by a lot of fluff, mention of maeve (srry).

“Any progress?”

Asteria opens one eye, peeking up at the High Lord where he stands beside her, night blessed eyes gleaming and kind, his posture relaxed even with his hands clasped behind his back.

“No,” Asteria bluntly responds, kneeling on the frozen Sidra River that runs through Velaris, her bare, scarred hands chilled to the bone where they’re pressed onto the ice, magic alight under her skin and glowing brightly in the daylight.

Rhysand hums, mulling over the blunt word, “So it is not the location that’s discouraging the Realm.”

Asteria clenches her jaw, the Realm’s sneering, cruel words rattling around her brain.

‘You are nothing. You do not belong here. You are not my Realm Reader.’

Gulping, Asteria pulls her magic back within her, rising to her own two feet and wiping her cold, wet hands on her pants, “No, it’s not location. It’s me.”

“We could try it from the top of Ramiel,” Rhys suggests, holding out Asteria’s brown leather gloves for her. She takes them, hastily shoving her hands into the warm confines of the material, “Maybe the mountain-view will put the Realm in a better mood.”

“I don’t think I’m that lucky,” Asteria mutters, beginning to shuffle towards the edge of the canal, the High Lord following her lead, “It’s not the location, the Realm barely acknowledges me, and when it does, it’s telling me to fuck off.”

“So no positive progress,” Rhysand concludes, stepping up onto the ledge with ease and offering Asteria a gentlemanly hand to help her up.

Taking it and allowing the High Lord to pull her up off of the frozen river to the snow dusted cobblestones, frowning at him in the process, “Have you heard back from the Summer Court?” She asks.

“Not yet, Tarquin seems to be taking his time with our request,” Rhysand drawls, leading Asteria up to one of the many bridges that connect the halves of the city that the river runs through, “We’ll call a meeting when his reply comes through to make a plan.”

“Is this High Lord not your ally?”

“Our relationship has been–” Rhysand pauses, leaning a hip on the edge of the bridge as he searches for the right word, Asteria halts in front of him, “-Complicated, as of late.”

Asteria hums, nodding her head.

Complicated wouldn’t do. Her existence is complicated enough. Being here, a stranger in a Realm that wants nothing to do with her, and tasked with something dauntingly impossible; to heal that very Realm from its own damages.

The more she speaks to the Realm, hangs on its every word as it refuses and degrades her, the more Asteria feels discouraged. Unlike herself. Unable to comprehend how she’d gotten here.

In Erilea, her home, she had more raw, unbridled power than she knew what to do with, and the few years of her life where she had her own freedom, Asteria knew no challenge. Realm magic can do anything, and so can a fully realized Realm Reader.

That’s not what she is in Prythian. All she is in this Realm is a female with a shallow well of power. Power of truth, and of light.

Asteria knows it would never be enough, not to save this world from itself.

Without the trust of the Realm, she’s useless.

Asteria turns away from Rhysand, resting her elbows on the bridge’s railing, her fingers suddenly shaking with a familiar fear that she tries to shove down before it shows itself to the High Lord by her side. She wrings her hands, trying to distract herself from her own heart hammering against her ribcage.

“Can I ask you something and have you answer it honestly?” Asteria questions, looking to Rhysand, who lowers himself to mimic her posture on the railing, giving her a nod, “When you saw me falling that night, why did you save me?”

The question makes Rhysand’s chest deflates with a long sigh, his dark features accentuated with the violet tones of night under the sun of the day, and he looks more thoughtful than Asteria had ever seen him, as if he’s carefully choosing his words.

“I saved you,” Rhysand begins, voice soft and full of breath, “Because as soon as you entered this Realm, I could feel your pain. It was deep, and hopeless, and something I am unfortunately very familiar with.”

Asteria bites the inside of her cheek, taking her eyes off of Rhysand, unable to look at him while he speaks, and instead directing her gaze to the frozen Sidra that they’d just been standing on.

“I had felt that kind of pain before, in myself, in my mate, and in each member of my inner circle,” The High Lord continues, “It is a harsh, lonely kind of pain, and when I looked up and saw you entering our Realm, about to fall into the next, I stopped you. I couldn’t rid myself of the thought that if what you were feeling was so familiar, that maybe, just maybe, you’d be one of us. And you’d need our help,” Asteria meets Rhysand’s eyes once again, “When I looked in your head and discovered just what you are, I realized we may need your help more than you need ours.”

“What if you were wrong?” Asteria asks, frowning, feeling nothing but discouraged in her own ability, “What if I can’t do this?”

“Then we figure out another way.”

There is no other way, Asteria wants to scream. But she stays quiet, offering Rhysand a small smile that is probably more of a grimace than anything else.

The High Lord claps a hand on her shoulder, standing up straight and beginning to rattle on about Velaris, and the parts of the city Asteria would enjoy, or the politics of Prythian Courts, or even about his and his Mate’s activities from the night prior. Asteria doesn’t know. She isn’t listening.

She’s staring down at the frozen Sidra, trying to keep her breathing steady.

The longer she’s here, the more she realizes how useless she really is to the healing of the Realm. Rhysand’s faith is misplaced, it has to be, because if she was really meant to save Prythian from its own ruin then the Realm wouldn’t be rejecting her the way it is. She wouldn’t be stuck, confined, in her unfamiliarly shallow well of magic.

She’s going to let Rhysand down. She’s going to let down Feyre and Azriel and the rest of the inner circle.

She won’t be enough.

The thoughts raging through her make her breaths shallow out, enough that Asteria has to focus to stand up straight, her palms sweating underneath her gloves. Rhysand’s words are muddled out, overtaken by the sound of the heavy, fast beating of her heart rushing into her ears.

They may be outside in in the dead of winter, but Asteria feels uncomfortably warm, every part of her starting to heat up, walls of her own mind crumbling down around her. Trapping her. Crushing her.

She won’t be enough.

The words rattle around her brain, everything she wouldn’t be able to do for this group of people that had shown her so much kindness since she quite literally fell into their lives. That’s the worst part, they are giving her so much, and there’s nothing she can do for them in return. She won’t be enough.

Asteria wrings her own hands to the point of pain, trying to bring herself back into her own head, to calm down and breathe when suddenly, a shadow finds her hands, slowly swirling around them, as if analyzing her actions to figure out just what she’s doing.

A little surprised, Asteria lets her hands relax, stopping the wringing and watching as the wisp of shadow seemingly becomes satisfied with itself, slowly wrapping around her arm, and moving upwards behind her shoulders and down the length of her long, tightly braided silver hair.

Asteria follows it with her eyes as best she can, watching as it returns back to the very male that the shadows belong to.

Azriel’s concern isn’t masked, his hazel eyes intense when she turns to face him. So intense, that Asteria barely registers that he isn’t alone until the unfamiliar female is already approaching with her arms open.

Asteria has a split second to register her name, Elain; soft and feminine, matching the female perfectly, before she’s wrapped in a tight hug.

Arms tense by her side, Asteria’s heart doesn’t falter in its frantic beating, an overwhelming floral scent invading her nose and pushing her senses even further to their limit.

Remaining rigid, Asteria can’t help but hate this. She can’t stand being touched unless it’s by someone she knows and trusts.

It’s a relief when Elain steps back, a kind smile on her face as Rhysand introduces Asteria, the words muffled by Asteria’s screaming mind. So much, that all she can manage to do is give what she hopes is a polite nod.

Another shadow reaches out to Asteria, and she forces herself to look at Azriel again, and actually take in what’s happening around her.

She finds the shadowsinger as hauntingly beautiful as ever in the scaled armor he’s worn each time she’s seen him, and in his hands he holds a few shopping bags. His massive wings are tucked in tightly, and his shadows are whirling around him in their usual fashion, a few of them wafting out towards Asteria, as if concerned for her. Maybe they have reason to be.

The female beside him, Elain, looks so soft, and feminine, just as Asteria had thought moments ago, that everything about the silver haired female suddenly feels too harsh, too severe. Like even her name is odd and grim in comparison.

“Rhys, would you mind taking Elain back to the house?” Azriel asks handing his bags to the High Lord under Elain’s confused gaze, his low voice cutting through Asteria’s racing thoughts like a hot knife through butter. His concerned eyes find hers again, “Asteria, I want to show you something.”

Then, in the blink of an eye, Azriel is ushering the silver haired female away, his hand on the small of her back and wing stretched around her.

Just as quickly, as if her body had recognized him, she relaxes, her heart rate slowing as Azriel guides her through the streets of Velaris.

—

“Are you alright?” Azriel asks, handing Asteria a steaming cup of tea that he’d purchased from a cafe a few doors away from the bench he and Asteria had settled on.

Asteria takes the paper cup from him, savoring the warmth that bleeds through her gloves and into her palms, “Yes,” She says, watching the male as he sits close to her, taking a second to get his wings settled over the back of the seating. Asteria is a second away from suggesting they go somewhere else when Azriel finally gets comfortable, both his thigh and shoulder brushing Asteria’s, “Thank you.”

The Shadowsinger gives her a small smile, the concern still in his gaze as he looks down at her while she sips the hot tea, “Does that happen often?”

Asteria swallows, the pleasant herbal taste sticking in her mouth and the warmth spreading through her, “Does what happen often?”

“That kind of….”

“Panic?” Asteria finishes, saving the Shadowsinger the trouble of finding the right word, “Not before the last hundred years or so, but yes. It happens more often than I’d like.”

Azriel hums, nodding, looking towards the street corner, watching the other fae heading from shop to shop, some laughing with friends, others with determined gazes and places to be.

Asteria stares up at him, suddenly curious about the Shadowsinger’s watchful gaze, “How did you know?” Asteria asks, bringing his observative hazel eyes to him.

He considers the question his arm extending to the back of the bench behind Asteria, “I didn’t. Not really,” He answers, “You just looked like you needed a friend.”

“Is that what we are? Friends?”

“What else am I supposed to call the only person who knows that strawberries disgust me?” Azriel asks, smirking.

Asteria snorts, amused, while looking up at Azriel with a tight lipped smile, “You should know, I’m not very good at keeping friends.”

“Well, I’ve dealt with Cassian and Rhys for the past five centuries,” Azriel says, tone light, “I’d say you’re in good hands.”

Asteria hums, sipping her tea once again, “And what’s the key to friendship, my dear Shadowsinger?”

“There are very few secrets between friends,” Azriel says with a sly smile.

His expression makes Asteria roll her eyes in an exaggerated manner, extremely amused with the Spymaster and his desire for the unknown, “Of course you say that.”

She knows Azriel can see it, see how much he’s entertaining her, clearing her head without even trying, especially when a new, intriguing, glint of mischief enters his simmering hazel eyes, “What? It’s true.”

“You just want me to tell you all of my secrets,” Asteria accuses, hiding what could be a smile behind the rim of her cup, taking a long drink of tea and watching as Azriel shrugs, no trace of denial to be seen. Asteria lowers her cup, leaning a touch closer and playfully sneering, “Greedy male.”

Azriel mimics her, leaning closer until their faces are barely a couple inches away, one of his shadows sneaking past him and curling around the end of her braid as he lowly utters out, “Captivating, mysterious female,” With a smirk resting on his lips.

Asteria can feel each of her tense muscles softening from the Shadowsinger’s nearness, making her mind race. No one, not even the Hellas-following male she once believed to be her mate, had such an easy effect on her. It’s almost as if her body recognizes him and is waiting for the rest of her to catch up, a warm feeling budding in each part of her, especially her lower region.

The silver-haired female swallows, crossing one leg over the other and squeezing her thighs together in what she hopes is an inconspicuous manner as she clears her throat, “Which of my secrets do you want now?”

“Only the most important ones,” Azriel says, leaning back and giving Asteria the room to breathe again, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Oh, that’s personal.” Asteria answers quickly, earning a low chuckle from the male that pleasantly rumbles through her, “It’s always been green. What’s yours?”

“Blue.”

“Obviously,” Asteria says, reaching up with one of her hands and tapping the blue gem on his chest, “What are these? Is it a secret?”

The hand that isn’t resting on the back of the cold, metal bench wraps around Asteria’s, making her breath hitch as he lowers them to her lap, releasing her to show her the crystal on the back of his hand, identical ones on his chest, shoulders, and knees, counting seven in total, “No, not a secret,” Azriel says with another chuckle, “They’re siphons.”

Asteria raises a brow with a subtle curiosity, quietly urging him on.

“To put it simply, siphons are used by Illyrians, like Cass and I, to channel magic.”

“Do all Illyrians have them?”

Azriel shakes his head, “Only the powerful ones.”

“Do all of the powerful ones use seven?”

“No. No one else has enough power. They’d be lucky to use more than one.”

Asteria lets out a low whistle, suddenly impressed with the male beside her, one she never would have guessed to hold such raw power if he hadn’t told her. He moves too gently, and carefully to be carrying a level of power so severe.

Seven. Seven siphons to channel his magic.

Asteria remembers the red shield she’d run into just before her first encounter with Cassian, and how his crimson siphons flared brightly at her. It sends a shiver down her spine.

“Maybe I shouldn’t piss off Cassian as much as I do,” Asteria mumbles, still thinking about the dangerous gleam of the crystals.

Azriel breathes deeply, that easy smile still gracing his features, “He’s harmless.”

“So then you’re the one I should be afraid of?”

“No,” Azriel answers, “Friends don’t fear each other.”

Unable to help the playful scoff that moves up her throat, Asteria looks over to the Shadowsinger with a smirk on her lips, about to speak when she’s frozen by the sound of a fiddle streaming through the air.

Automatically, Asteria turns her head to a street corner just a few feet away, a blue haired fae female tapping her booted toe to a upbeat tune she shreds out on her instrument, a male with insect’s wings launching into a complementary melody with a fiddle of his own just a moment later, their delightful song filling the square.

Blindly, the silver haired female taps Azriel’s chest with the back of her hand, unable to take her eyes off the performers, “Az? Did you know they’d be here?”

Asteria doesn’t look at her companion as he grips her gloved hand, giving it a contented squeeze before releasing it, making her feel warm, “I wasn’t lying when I said I had something to show you. They perform here every night.”

The pair of fiddles build further, the counter melodies mixing and blending and challenging one another as the musicians come face to face, grinning as they get to a certain point of the song, slowing the tempo for a fraction of a second before launching back into it, making Asteria even more delighted.

“You really love music, don’t you?” Azriel asks, thoughtfully.

“More than anything else,” Asteria says, as if it were automatic. She turns back to the Shadowsinger, feeling as though she’s vibrating from her own excitement, “I played the fiddle, among other instruments, but preferred the pianoforte. I used to be a composer, too. For a hundred years the Doranelle Orchestra used to play my symphonies, and they were picked up by the companies in Adarlan and Terrasen. But that was before-” Asteria stops, her breath hitching and a familiar sadness flooding over her chest despite the addictively upbeat tune raging around her. Her voice goes quiet, “That was before.”

Before Maeve decided to take the music away completely, and put a ban on all of Asteria’s work.

The green eyed female takes a deep breath, letting it fill her lungs and rejoicing in the feeling that comes with it, and for the first time since the door between worlds was thrust open, Asteria reminds herself that Maeve, that horrid, cruel queen isn’t here. She doesn’t exist in Prythian. And Asteria may have left a war behind, but she also freed herself, completely and truly.

Yes, at one point Maeve had taken music away. But Prythian gave it back to her, and Azriel led her to it.

“Do you want to just sit and listen?” Azriel asks, softly, able to recognize her dampened mood.

Asteria remembers when they were at Rita’s not long ago, a different group of musicians playing something completely foreign to the otherworldly female. Azriel had asked her to dance then. Until now, turning to look at him, feeling as though she may start crying joyous tears at any second from the epiphany of her own freedom, Asteria didn’t realize how much she was hoping that he’d ask her again until a question moved past his lips.

There isn’t a doubt in her mind she’d say yes now, and she can’t help but wonder if he’d do the same.

“No, actually. Would you like to-”

“-Dance with me?” Asteria and Azriel are snapped from the small, seemingly private bubble they’d put themselves in by the voice of an unfamiliar male.

Looking up, Asteria finds the male to be young, probably having just Settled, with a hand outstretched. He looks nervous, fingers trembling just slightly, but also kind. Long, sand coloured hair and dark eyes waiting expectantly for her answer with a slight grimace.

“Dance with you?” Asteria repeats, looking from the strange male back to Azriel, who has both brows raised, the shadows swirling around him seemingly darker, thicker than hey were a moment ago.

The stranger gulps, nodding, “People are- are, uh, starting to-to do it. To dance, that is. Would you? With-with me?”

Looking past him, Asteria sees that couples had in fact started to make their way into the square, dancing excitedly to the music from the pair of fiddlers, grins on each face and sparks of joy in each set of eyes, bodies moving in time with the melody.

A little closer, there is a trio of young males that draws Asteria’s attention, staring at them. Snickering. Mocking the male in front of her’s posture, and jostling one another with conniving, rude expressions.

They’re making fun of him, and Asteria immediately hates them for it.

“What’s your name?” Asteria asks, bringing her eyes from the group to the lone male in front of her.

Gulping, the stranger answers her, “Murry.”

“Well, Murry, my name is Asteria, and I have to tell you that I’m not a very good dancer,” Asteria says, handing her half-full cup of tea to Azriel, who takes it without being told to, “But if you know that, and you’d still have me. I’d be honored to dance with you.”

Murry’s grin spreads across his face in an instant, “Really?”

“Really,” Asteria nods, putting her hand in his, only to be eagerly tugged to her feet by the sandy haired male, her lips parting to release a startled yelp as Murry all but drags her to the square.

Looking over her shoulder, suddenly questioning what she’d gotten herself into, she sees Azriel watching her intently and smiling from ear to ear. The sight punches her in the gut, catching her off guard and making her stumble over her own feet.

Before she can right herself, Murry is sweeping her into the line of dancers with a hand just above her waist and her hand held firmly in his. Asteria puts her hand on his shoulder, trying to keep up with Murry and the rest of the crowd as they bound and twirl in a seemingly organized formation, her eyes glued to her feet, trying to get it right.

It only takes a few moments for Murry to playfully tell her, “You really weren’t lying.”

Something overtakes her then. Perhaps the upbeat music embedding itself into her blood, or the fact that she knows that group of males from earlier may be watching, but Asteria can’t help the genuine laugh that bubbles from her when her companion mocks her dance talents, “I warned you!”

Murry doesn’t falter, however, instead, he quietly lets Asteria know when to turn, and when to take larger steps, and when he’s going to release her, only to spin her out and bring her back in, a smile on his face the whole time.

The song thunders through her, fiddles giving her the other ques she needs to fall fully into the dance, confident in her moves, so much that when she looks over Murry’s shoulder to try and catch Azriel’s eye, she finds he’s not there anymore. Her still-steaming tea sitting lonesome on their bench.

She doesn’t have time to frown, though, because when Murry turns her again, she catches sight of the Illyrian Shadowsinger fully engrossed in the dance, smiling down at a smaller, old female between his arms.

Asteria’s heart clenches at the sight, warmth radiating through her down to her very soul. She doesn’t get to savor it, though, because the song ends, and the Fiddlers stomp their feet twice, and without a word, Murry steps away.

Barely a second later, an absurdly tall creature with green skin that feels like leather, big hands and a wide jaw sweeps Asteria off her feet as a new melody begins.

Just when she’d gotten a hand of the dance, she’s suddenly forced to do it in reverse, cursing under her breath with a chuckle, this partner’s movements more suave than Murry’s. He moves automatically, barely giving Asteria a moment to second-guess herself, his lead almost domineering.

Looking around the circle, Asteria finds Azriel dancing with a raven haired nymph, his gaze finding hers over the head of his partner, smiling wide.

The Fiddlers stomp their feet again, and Asteria is nearly knocked over by a red headed fae with crisp blue eyes and fast feet, seemingly moving in double-time with the music.

Like magnets, Asteria and Azriel find each other’s eyes again, and they both laugh, Asteria feeling ridiculous while the fae whisks her around the square with a showmanship like no other.

The music crescendos, the beat carrying on steadily as they switch partners again, another stranger in front of Asteria, and Azriel getting closer and closer as if he’s trying to rush towards her as he sweeps through partners.

Asteria craves him through the song, feeling it in her bones as it builds and builds, her feet keeping time beneath her as she’s brought into the arms of a new partner.

After that, it’s a dark skinned nymph.

Then Murry again.

She wishes it were Azriel.

A shadow whisps around her braid, and a new fae male spins her wildly.

He’s followed by a tall Urisk, Azriel finally just a partner away.

The Fiddlers stomp their feet again, and Asteria’s heart leaps wildly in anticipation.

She steps into Azriel’s arms at long last, and the music abruptly stops.

Panting, her chest heaving, Asteria looks up at Azriel. His hands burn at her waist, the heat of them bleeding through her tunic and into her skin, making her entire body feel as though it’s on fire.

Asteria feels her cheeks warm, knowing they’ve definitely tinged themselves pink at his nearness. She smiles up at Azriel, broad and without restraint, unable to do anything else as the crowd around them erupts into applause for the musicians that had hold up their instruments, finished performing and beaming with joy at the dancers they’d entertained.

Azriel’s grin falters, mouth parting slightly as Asteria takes a hesitant step back, almost unsure to be moving away from his embrace, clapping and cheering with the rest of them. She eyes him suspiciously, afraid that she’d done something wrong, as his throat bobs with a swallow, one of his wings twitching before he joins the applause with her.

Asteria nudges him with her elbow, the shadow that had found her during the dance swirling around her wrist for a few more moments before returning to its master, and the silver haired female can’t help but laugh.

Just an hour ago, she wouldn’t have pictured this for herself. Dancing in the heart of Velaris, the city of starlight, with complete strangers, reveling in unexpected, wonderful music, enjoying herself.

But she’s here, it’s all because of the male beside her.

Azriel finds his grin again, and Asteria’s nerves settle when he waves to the old lady he’d begun the dance with, and Asteria decides that she’ll remember this night, a part of her soul that she’d long forgotten existed sparking to life as she takes him in.

She’d remember how his very presence brought her out of a dread-filled panic and how his hands felt on her waist. She’d remember the burning delight in Azriel’s eyes that was meant just for her, and she’d keep it all to herself. A thing of private beauty.

He had given her something truly valuable this night. Something Azriel had been right about when they’d first sat down on the bench by the Sidra.

She did need a friend, and she’s glad it was him.

---

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added)

@bionic-donut @hollyismentallyillhelp @younxii @feyretopia @hideing @eat-cake @warzaines

#azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #shadowsinger #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x oc #acowar #acotar oc #acotar fanfiction #acotar #inner circle x oc #azriel x reader #azriel reader #sjm fic #in the stars #tog oc #velaris #night court #acofas #inner circle

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assassinsblade · 3 months

Text

Arrows and Ashes

You and Cassian are ambushed when trying to meet with Eris in the Autumn Court. When an interrogation ensues that leaves you permanently scarred, how will Azriel react?

WC: 4.7k

Warnings: Pining, friends to lovers, gross gore, injury, violence, blood, vomit, all that kind of stuff.

Part 2

—————————————

Drip. Drip. Drip.

It was damp. From the cold, wet floor to the musty air and your blood-soaked skin.

How long had you and Cassian been here? How long had it been since Autumn soldiers had ambushed you in the woods of the Autumn Court, shooting arrows directing into the war general?

It couldn't have been more than a day. You didn't even think it was night time yet. But it felt like it had been an eternity.

From the interrogations to watching Cassian writhe around in pain due to the faebane arrows protruding from his wings... time continuously ticked slower.

You ached. Your entire body cold with sweat despite your lack of clothing. Dirt and blood coated your skin, and you tried to ignore how uncomfortable it felt against your normally soft flesh. You couldn’t though. You couldn’t ignore the situation you were in. Not when it only seemed to be getting worse, and you had no escape in sight.

You might not make it out of here.

You had left that morning expecting to return home quickly. You had left with a plan to meet Eris Vanserra and return to the House of Wind for a bath, to read a book, to have a nice dinner with friends, and maybe even get to spend time with your mate.

Azriel. You wondered what he was doing right now.

If you focused hard enough, you could almost picture him bursting through the cell door, blue siphons ablaze with power and face molded into an expression of beautiful fury.

But he wasn't here. And you might never see him again.

"Cassian..."

"Don't." He demanded. His voice was cracking with weakness, but he tried to sound resolute. "Rhys is coming."

He didn’t sound convinced, and you could tell that he was worried you were running out of time too. It might not have been long enough for Rhys and the others to be concerned, but it was long enough for the Autumn Court to inflict permanent damage.

You let out a shaky breath, grief already swimming in your chest. Grief for what could have been with you and Azriel if you hadn't been so scared. If you had told him sooner about the bond that had snapped for you. If you hadn't been so focused on him wanting you for you and not the idea of the bond.

“I need you to promise me you'll tell him."

Tears leaked from your eyes, and you tried to hold back your cries. You didn't want your life to end so sadly. You wanted to be able to speak with your friend, pretend like everything was okay, reminisce on the happy times you had with the people you loved.

Instead, you were laying nearly completely bare on a concrete floor, shackled, covered in blood, tears, and vomit. Your body had been taken apart, your skin flayed open, beaten. You thought you must look like an animal on a butcher's board, your body a canvas of gore.

Cassian was not unharmed either. When they had captured the two of you, they had shot him down with faebane arrows: a dozen or two of them. His wings were severely injured, and his power was subdued from the faebane. He had taken beatings as well, but when they realized how well-trained the general had been in withstanding interrogations, they turned to you.

Inflicting damage on your body was a way to get either yourself or Cassian to talk. They taunted him with your pain, and you felt guilty that this would most likely haunt him as much as it haunted you. Would he forgive himself for doing the right thing and protecting his court?

The two of you were on your way to meet with Eris to go over some plans when you were ambushed by Beron's men. Based on their line of questioning, they still did not know of the eldest son's plans of a coup, but they were suspicious of the Night Court presence in their land.

They used the opportunity to not just ask why you were there, but to interrogate you about the new Night Court addition: Nyx. They wanted to know about his powers, how strong he seemed to be, if he can be used as a weapon, how many guards are constantly with him...

But you and Cassian would never betray your family nor your court.

So when Cassian refused to answer, and the whip came down on your torso, you tried to block out his yells, his growls, his apologies. You tried to block out the pain as the leather cleaved into your skin, flaying it open until muscle showed. You focused on what you would do when you got out of here; how you would go to the library with Nesta and pick out new books, how you would go shopping with Mor, how you would go flying with Azriel.

You focused on happy memories with your friends as fists landed on your cheeks, dug into your ribs. As Cassian took blows, you tried to remember the way he'd make you laugh, contorting his groans of pain into his teasing hums and chuckles.

But as you laid in a pool of your own blood, the taunts of the soldiers echoed in your head, and you knew what was coming.

Your wings would be next to go, and with that, so would you.

Despite yourself, you wondered how Azriel would react. If he would mourn you, if it would hurt him as badly as losing him would hurt you. You wondered how Cassian would tell him about the mating bond, if he would have Azriel sit down first, if Rhys would be there for support as well.

"We are getting out of here," Cassian said, voice stronger and more determined. "And you are telling him yourself."

But then the cells were opening, footsteps marching down the hall, and three males were walking toward you with purpose. They gripped you by your forearms, pulling you up harshly, and you closed your eyes and tried to swallow your panic down.

The lacerations on your arms and abdomen from the whip were burning with a vengeance, infection certain to be spreading from the dirt pressed into them on the concrete. The males' hands twisted around your wounds, and you gasped weakly at the pain as they hauled you to your knees.

The shackles were connected to a hook on the wall, lifting your arms slightly, allowing them full access to your back. Your back that they had not whipped, because they were waiting for this.

"Daisy," he called your nickname -- the one given to you by Azriel when you all were only kids. "Look at me. Just look at me, alright? I'm here."

Your whole body was shaking, trembling with fear and anticipation at what was to come. Panic was suffocating you, building in your chest and making its way up your throat, and you thought your bladder might have even released with how petrified you were.

Cassian's voice was still echoing in the background, but you could only focus on the clanging of chains, the footsteps behind you, the sound of a sword unsheathing.

Your fingers dug into the shackles, fingers white with how hard you were gripping them, trying to steel yourself for what was to come.

"Lord of Bloodshed..." one of the males taunted, spinning the sword around in his hand. "I think you know what this is for."

You drowned out the male's voice. His nasally, grating, voice that seemed to irritate your ears. You drowned out the words that would doom you, focusing instead on listening to your own breathing and heart beat.

You were alive. You were strong.

There was silence after a while, and you squeezed your eyes shut, gritted your teeth, tried not to sob.

“I’m sorry, Daisy,” Cassian cried.

You tried to suck in a breath, tried not to let his protection of his nephew, his protection of his brother, of his court, hurt you. But the sword came down, and your lungs were not yet filled with air.

You couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t breathe.

It was like your limb was being torn from your body, nerve endings flaying open, on fire, agony coursing through your veins and sending a shock through your body all the way to your head.

You thought you might have made a noise, but you couldn’t hear over the ringing in your ears, and your chest seemed stuck.

Blood splattered across the wall as he pulled the sword out of your wing. It hadn’t gone all the way through; instead, it had gotten stuck in one of the lines of thick membrane, and you gagged when he pulled it from where it had stopped, tissue separating with the motion.

It came down again, a hacking motion, unclean and barbarous, dragging through tendons and nerves.

You had never been in so much pain before. You thought you might be going into shock, your body shaking, stomach nauseous, vision going fuzzy, ears ringing with white noise.

You were only semi-aware of the burning coming up your throat, of the smell of your own vomit.

Cassian’s voice was muffled, drowned out in your mind, but you could hear the sorrow, the panic, the guilt.

Your hands were limp in the shackles, body slumped forward into the wall when the first wing fell to the floor with a thump.

You thought you heard Cassian retching.

And when the sword came down toward the second wing, your adrenaline now out of your system, you couldn’t help the piercing scream that echoed off the walls. You screamed and sobbed and shook until the hacking broke through the second wing too, slicing and grinding it to the floor.

Your entire body was covered in sweat. Cheek pressed to the wall, arms hung above your head but body hanging limp. You tried to stay conscious. You tried to focus on the sounds of Cassian’s sobs, the way he called your name and tried to get your attention. You tried to blink the dizziness away, tried to focus on the blood pooling around you into a large circle.

But everything ached and stung.

As the shackles were released from the wall, weight now imbalanced, your body didn’t even know which way to fall.

You landed in a puddle of your own blood, urine, vomit, and tears. But you were too tired to move, too hurt to move. So you laid there, cheek pressed into the sticky, hot, red liquid, and watched as your friend begged you to stay awake.

Breath stuttering in your chest, blood wavering in front of your mouth with each heave, you reached a hand out to your friend. Just barely. With only enough strength to inch your fingers forward, your body twitching with pain and exertion, you made the motion, tried to communicate that you did not blame him, that you understood, even if your chest ached with hurt.

And then you were going in and out of darkness.

There were times you could hear voices, ones you recognized. Other times it was peacefully quiet. You tried to bask in those moments, where there was no pain or noise—only you and your mind. Where you could pretend like everything was fine and you and Cassian had never left for the Autumn Court early that morning. Or that you had met with Eris as planned, gotten the intel you needed, and returned in time for supper.

But those voices would interrupt your peaceful state, arguing and panicking.

You’d hear glimpses.

You make one wrong touch and you’re dead.

Big threats from a bedridden brute.

You were only brought back to full consciousness briefly when you felt a searing hot pain in your back, pulling you from your sleep gasping for air.

You were on fire, dear gods, you were burning alive.

And then Cassian was in your eyesight, his hazel eyes shining with concern. His hand reached out to cradle your head where it laid atop a pillow, the other stretched across the tops of your shoulders to keep you held down onto the table.

“I know, I know,” he reassured quickly. “It’s okay. It’ll be over soon. You’re okay.”

But you didn’t believe him. How could you be okay when you felt like this? When you didn't even understand what was happening?

You were choking on your own cries, on the tears and drool pooling in your mouth. Cassian tried to wipe them away, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead, whispering encouraging words into your ear.

Your fingers grasped at the wood underneath you, your legs kicking at an invisible weight holding your lower half down.

“Please-“ your voice shook as your body trembled. “Stop.”

You could feel yourself losing consciousness again, your vision going spotty, the pain too much for your weak, shocked body to handle.

“Eris…” Cassian warned, his tone threatening.

“Do you want her to live?”

You didn’t think you would live past this though. This was unbearable. Pure hot torture raging across the skin of your back and melting the muscle, nerves, and bone.

Distantly, you realized what they were doing. They were cauterizing the wounds. Burning the flesh to stop the bleeding, to give you a chance at healing before it was too late.

Mouth dry, your voice gave out, and you let out hoarse squeaks of pain.

It could have been sixty seconds or five minutes, but it felt like an eternity before the weight on your legs shifted, and the fire edged away.

Your lashes and cheeks were wet with your tears, tongue bitten in your screaming. And as you tried to breathe again, tried to focus on Cassian’s voice as he addressed Eris, on his hand stroking your hair back, you thought of where you could be. If you were actually going to make it back to the Night Court, if you were actually going to survive this.

Gruesome lashes ached on your legs, abdomen, and arms. The weightlessness at your back paired with the smell of burnt flesh brought an image of barbecue to your brain that had you gagging again.

You might survive, but your body wouldn’t. This was no longer you, no longer the body you would have willingly given to Azriel, with the glowing bond in its chest he remained unaware about.

It was hacked and burnt and damaged and-

“We’re gonna get you home,” you heard Cassian speaking softly to you.

Eris moved around in the background, gathering and packing up supplies in another room of whatever isolated home he had brought you to. You never thought you’d be so grateful to see the auburn-haired male, or that he’d actually put his ass on the line to save you, but here he was.

Had he heard you were captured upon your missed meeting? Did he release you himself?

You knew he would have to find a way to explain how you two got out from the cells. It would most likely end in some form of physical abuse toward him from Beron. The thought made your stomach turn with more sorrow and guilt.

“Eris sent a letter to Rhys. He knows where we are, and he’ll be here soon.”

You let the words comfort you, your eyes fluttering shut and muscles trying to relax after being attacked.

A sharp pain separate from the physical torture you endured burned in your heart, though, as you realized how everything was going to change. Your wings were gone. They took your wings, and with it any happiness or confidence you had felt.

You felt tears swim in your vision, your eyes so exhausted you could barely keep them open enough for the liquid to fall down your cheeks. Cassian immediately wiped them away with his thumb, his brow scrunched in concern as he watched you.

“My wings-” your voice wobbled, and Cassian immediately brought his head to yours in a makeshift hug.

“I know,” he tried to soothe, his voice pinched with sympathy. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Daisy.”

Eris appeared once again, carrying a blanket and what looked like a loose nightgown. You only then realized how bare you still were from the dungeon and your injuries.

“Here,” the usually cold Autumn lord set the clothes to the side, pulling the blanket out instead. He draped it across your body, adjusting it so it covered from your shoulders to your toes. Cassian gave him a somewhat surprised and suspicious glance, but nonetheless nodded his head at the male gratefully.

“Rhys responded and should be here any minute. The wards are open to him. I assume he is collecting his own healer-”

Eris didn’t even have a chance to finish before shadows materialized in the corner of the room, an intimidating presence taking up the space and charging for the auburn-haired male.

“What the hell did you do?”

“Azriel-” Cassian jumped to his feet, pulling the shadowsinger back. Azriel’s eyes remained locked on the Autumn Court heir, though, his eyes promising a pain he knew all too well how to deliver. “He got us out. We got caught, and he helped us. Without him, she'd be dead.”

Azriel swallowed harshly, body tense with anger. He seemed to take the moment to consider the words, to consider if he believed in their truth. Ultimately, he dropped his hands and turned toward where you laid.

His face crumpled, all anger and drive deflating into devastation.

Feet carrying him over to you, he fell to his knees in the same spot Cassian had just occupied.

“Oh gods…” he breathed, shaking hand coming to rest against your cheek.

You tried to blink up at him, but your vision was still slightly blurred. You could still see the concern in his eyes, though. The way the green and brown melded together with worry and care, sparking the gold tether in your chest alive.

“My sweet Daisy,” he muttered to himself. “What have they done to you?”

Daisy. The nickname was sweet on his lips, sweet as the day he labeled you as his flower. The young boy who had taken a look at the young Illyrian female ravaging her horrible family's garden in a rage and had endearingly called her Daisy. Had compared her to the pretty life that could grow in a horrible place, in horrible soil that kept preventing her from sprouting.

You didn't know what to tell him. Your body still shook with pain, adrenaline, and shock.

You heard Rhys arrive, heard Cassian and Eris explaining what had occurred to the high lord and his healer. You heard Madja curse at the arrow wounds in Cassian's wings, and Cassian insist she help you first.

"You're going to be okay," Azriel placed a soft kiss to your fingertips peeking out from the top of the blanket. "And I am going to make them pay. They are going to regret ever touching you."

You tried to focus on his pretty eyes, his dark eyelashes highlighting the light hazel. He looked so worried, so hurt himself.

Shuffling behind you made your breath hitch, and then the blanket was being moved down your back, exposing your wounds to the cold air.

You winced, a sound you would equate to a wounded animal echoing into the solemn room. Azriel’s hand gripped your own, eyes watching your reaction intently.

But you watched as his eyes moved from your own to glance at what everyone else was seeing—what Madja was here to work on. His face immediately paled, his jaw clenching tight, and his fingers digging into your own.

Did it look as bad as it felt?

You wondered if someone would be able to find you beautiful after this. If Azriel would be able to look at your skin and see a pretty female and not someone who had been put through a meat grinder.

He swallowed harshly, ripping his eyes away from your back and locking onto your own again.

His chest was rising and falling heavily, as if he was trying to contain himself, reign himself in from exploding.

“I didn’t tell them,” you finally spoke. Your voice was hoarse from screaming and throwing up, and dry from lack of water.

Azriel looked as if you had hit him, and you heard Rhys immediately come to your side next to the shadowsinger. He knelt down and placed a kiss to the sweaty skin at your temple, stroking your hair lovingly before looking at you sternly.

“All we care about right now is that our friend is alive and safe. Don’t worry about anything else right now. I’m not.”

“They wanted Nyx,” you croaked.

Rhysand looked haunted but not surprised. “Cassian told me. We will figure it out and plan for the worst.”

You didn’t answer the high lord, focusing on your breathing as Madja began skimming her hands over the gouges in your back.

Violet eyes met your own, and the hazel eyes next to him watched the healer’s actions with intensity. “I will never be able to repay the price you paid to keep my family safe. I am forever indebted to you.”

Tears fell down Rhys’ cheeks, and you wished you could hug him, the male you think of as a brother. But then you thought of how odd that would feel for you—for him—to hug without your wings.

You remembered his story of being captured during the war. How he said he went through endless abuse and torture, but they didn't touch his wings. He had said that touching them would have been the one way to get him to talk.

But you didn't.

“I’d do it again-” you began to say, but you were cut off by Madja’s actions, a piercing pain shooting through you. You gasped, eyes squeezing shut and hand clamping down on Azriel’s.

“Rhys.” Azriel demanded. What he was demanding, you weren’t sure. But his voice was firm, strong, a tone you hadn’t heard him use before with his brother.

Rhys seemed to understand though, because he stood and walked a few steps to the top of your head, putting a hand there.

“Can I take some of your pain away?” He asked gently, voice still strained from the emotions he showed.

You could barely give a nod of your head with how badly your muscles were tensed in agony. But he saw it, and as you felt the mental talons drag along the walls of your mind, your tear-filled eyes met Azriel’s.

“I’m so proud of you,” the shadowsinger said, eyes gleaming with sorrow. “My strong Daisy. My brave, brave girl.”

And with some of the pain gone—there, but now slightly more bearable as the healer worked—you could breathe a bit easier.

Azriel continued speaking to you, distracting you from the work going on around your body. “Before you know it, we’ll be back in Velaris. We can go to that bookstore you like and pick out as many books as you want. I’ll read one with you, if you want. Even one of those romances you like so much.”

He tried to give you a soft smile, but it looked sad, and it made your heart hurt.

A rough twist near your back and a sob escaped your mouth. Rhys’ energy swarmed stronger in your mind, and Azriel was quick to lean forward, face inches from your own, eyes drowning in fear and worry.

“I’ve got you,” he repeated, voice heavy with panic. “Just focus on me. I know it hurts, but we’ve gotta do it. You’re almost done, sweetheart. Just hold on a bit longer.”

Your cries were becoming louder and you could hear Azriel cursing, could see through your tears the way he tipped his head up to look at Rhys in desperation.

“Can we put her to sleep?” He asked toward the healer, and if you didn’t know what he asked, the sound of his voice would have made you think he was begging.

It was silent for a moment, and you could feel Azriel’s hands start shaking around your limp one in his grasp.

Madja finally responded, sounding grim. “She’s lost a lot of blood. I don’t want to risk it.”

“What can I do?” Azriel pleaded toward the healer.

You tried to control your sobs, control the way your body convulsed at the touches of the healer behind you. But it was excruciating, the lack of wings, the deep tendons, muscles, bones, and nerves ripped from your skin and haphazardly cauterized despite possible infection. And now to try to fix the rushed burns, to check for infection and draw it out...

“Keep her awake.”

Azriel’s head dipped down for a moment, either in sorrow or in order to compose himself. But then he was looking at you, so lovely and beautiful you nearly felt like you were dreaming.

And he tried to sound positive, his voice going up a bit to sound lighter, but it was strained and not entirely convincing.

“I found that cat you have been following around Velaris. The stray that tries to sneak into the coffee shop? I guess some of the customers feed him. They call him Bix, and he lives under the porch of the place.”

Your vision swims as you try to pay attention to what he is saying, and his fingers lightly tap your cheek.

“I'll take you to visit him soon. Okay? I'll even pet him this time."

You tried to smile at the image of the stoic shadowhunter holding a cute stray cat, but even the muscles in your face felt heavy and lethargic.

"Maybe we can get you a cat," he continued when he saw you listening. "I know you’ve always wanted one. And Rhys would probably give you fifty now if you asked.”

His voice was soothing, and the more he spoke, the more you wanted to sleep. His presence was like a balm to the last ten hours, the scent of him, the feel of his hand in yours, the sound of his voice in your ear, all reminded you that you were safe again.

Rhys’ power rushed through you, and you could feel your body start to go numb, the pain ebbing away thanks to your friend and high lord.

Now you were just tired. So so tired.

“Hey-” Azriel sat up a little straighter, the movement pulling your eyelids open once more. “You gotta stay awake, sweetheart. You can sleep soon, I promise. Just not yet.”

But you could barely hear him. Your mind was already falling, vision warping into a blurry vignette.

Azriel was here. You were safe.

“Madja-” Azriel's voice became more frantic as he watched you start to fade. In a panic, he stood from his position at your side and gripped your face in both his palms.

His fingertips were gentle on your face as they lightly tapped, trying to get your attention without hurting you. When you didn’t respond, your heavy eyelids beginning to succumb to sleep, he began to tap a little harder, his strong hands trying to pull you back up.

The last thing you heard before finally allowing a pain free and peaceful rest to overtake you was Azriel pleading your name, a shuffle of two bodies, and then his touch being gone, his deep voice suspended in the room instead—a darkness trailing underneath it that would have had you on your knees if not for you floating into unconsciousness.

“Prepare for a war, Rhysand. Because if she doesn’t wake up, I will slaughter every last member of the Autumn Court.”

Before darkness enveloped you, you briefly wondered if their bodies would look like your own when he was finished.

#acotar x reader #acotar fic #azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel x you #azriel fluff

3K notes · View notes

pellucid-constellations · 4 months

Text

Of Oblivious Minds

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Pining, yearning, idiots in love?? (an angsty moment as well)

a/n: What am I doing!! I don't know!! This is part one and there will be one or two more parts :) Thank you for reading ily ♡

Part 2

You were having an epiphany—of that you were certain.

Sitting in the main room of the townhouse, a glass of wine spinning in your hand, many things were beginning to make sense to you. It was ridiculous that you hadn’t come to this realization before. All of the hints were right in front of you.

You leaned back in the armchair, a scrutinizing gaze pointed toward the corner of the room. You took a sip of your wine—a contemplative sip—and then ran through the facts in your head. Yes, it made perfect sense.

You wanted to kick yourself for not noticing before.

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking so hard.” Cassian’s voice startled you out of your thoughts. You blinked up at him as he took a seat on the arm of your chair. “Want to share why you’re staring a hole into the wall?”

“I was just… noticing something,” you murmured over the rim of your glass, voice low.

“And what’s that?”

You paused, pursing your lips. It would sound silly if you were wrong. But Cassian looked at you expectantly, so you simply whispered, “I think Az is in love with Elain.”

The sudden, rumbling laugh bouncing off the walls set your cheeks ablaze. The entire room halted their conversations to look at Cassian as he doubled over, holding his stomach with no signs of letting up. You stared up at him, mortified, and smacked his arm as his laughs lowered into senseless chuckles.

“Cassian, quit it. It’s not that funny—stop it or I’ll hit you again.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Sorry, that was just… that was a good one, y/n.”

“What’d she say?” Rhys asked, perking up from the other side of the fireplace.

“Nothing to warrant that reaction,” you grumbled, sinking lower into your seat.

Fighting back the vibrations in his chest, Cassian took a deep breath. “Inside joke, Rhys. You wouldn’t get it.”

Rhys huffed out an offended breath, quirking a brow at his antics. He looked to Mor and Feyre to garner some support, but they only giggled back at him.

“Maybe we would.”

Azriel’s gravelly tone only made you collapse further into the armchair. If you’d known there would be consequences to sharing your epiphany with Cassian, you would have kept your mouth shut. Cassian was usually wonderful at keeping secrets.

“Oh, brother, you’d find it funny as well, surely,” Cassian shared, heaving up from the chair. “But, alas, I have to go. No inside jokes for the room.”

“Well that’s not fair. You don’t get to cause a riot and then leave,” Mor whined, her cheeks rosy and her eyes glassy. Clearly, she had been having her own drinks throughout the night.

“Lovely. Now you want to know? Where was that attitude while you were giggling with my mate?” Rhys accused.

Feyre jumped in this time, pinching the high lord’s cheek and cooing, “Oh, you big Illyrian baby.”

The focus was no longer on you and your apparently laughable realization. Cassian’s reaction did little to deter you from the thought, however, and you were still quite resolute in your observations. Looking over at the couple in question only solidified that.

They were huddled close, Elain’s knees pressed against Azriel’s thigh as they spoke in low tones. Azriel would occasionally take a glance around the room, lingering on you as he went, but that was natural for the shadowsinger. His shadows were gone, where they went you had no idea, and his wings were held tightly behind his back.

And he stared at her—intently—as she nodded her head and answered whatever it was he had asked.

He had to be in love with her.

You were usually quite good at reading these types of things.

“I’m taking you home now,” Cassian spoke, holding out his hand. “We’ll walk.”

“What if I don’t want to go home?” you asked, taking his hand and following him despite your words.

“After all that nonsense, I think it’s clear you need a good night’s rest. Plus, you and I are in the ring bright and early tomorrow morning.”

You groaned, knocking your head back at the reminder of your obligations. It always sounded like such a good idea over breakfast. Cassian had clearly learned that you would only say yes to early morning trainings when you were half-asleep.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go, sweetheart.”

You let him yank you to the door, your feet dragging behind you, when a warmth encased your shoulders. You recognized the material of your coat instantly and turned to see Azriel smoothing it down over your arms.

“For your walk,” Azriel quietly explained. “You left it on the back of my chair.”

“Oh!” you chirped, feeling the early licks of embarrassment barrage your chest. It’s not like he heard you talking about him, right? “Thanks, Az. I almost forgot.”

He offered you one of his soft, rare smiles. “I know. I remembered.”

He nodded over your head to Cassian after that, and you heard Cassian’s low, I got her, Az, only because you strained your ears.

You ended up being extremely grateful for Azriel’s forethought to grab your jacket. It was freezing outside. You could have winnowed home instead, but Cassian hadn’t really given you the option and no one ever let you winnow after you’d had something to drink.

You landed in Summer Court one time and suddenly everyone treated you like a hazard.

Your shoes scuffed against dark cobblestone as you walked. It was really dark, now that you looked at it. Maybe it had rained? Or a merchant had dumped their excess water?

Or maybe it was nighttime and you were a little drunk.

It was then that you noticed the silence. When Cassian walked you home, especially when Cassian was tipsy and he walked you home, he never shut up. So this was unusual. You squinted as you looked up at him, but he gave nothing away, keeping his gaze forward and his steps in steady pace with your own.

“Okay, out with it,” you accused, crossing your arms over your chest. “What was so funny earlier? And why are you walking me home all stoic?”

“I’m always stoic. Adds to my charm.”

“Liar.”

Cassian smirked, shaking his head, and then schooled his expression into one that was a touch more serious. “You really think Az likes Elain?”

You watched your breath puff out white. “Don’t you?”

“No, I don’t.”

You shot him a skeptical glance. “Well, then you’re wrong. I’m good at picking these things out. I knew Feyre was Rhys’s made before the rest of you figured it out, didn’t I?”

“It was pretty obvious, y/n,” Cassian scoffed. He took a fleeting glance down to the ground beneath your feet. “Honestly, I’d wager that you’re actually the worst at picking these things out.”

You gaped at him, bringing your coat closer to your body in a ploy to protect your damaged pride. Cassian only shook his head—again—and then flung an arm over your shoulder.

“Don’t take that the wrong way. Just…take a second look, maybe.”

“A second look at what? She was practically sitting in his lap tonight.”

“If you say so,” Cassian hummed.

“Stop being cryptic and buy me a snack on the way.”

The following days were… strange to say the least.

Everywhere you went, Elain of all people was sure to follow.

And she spoke of Azriel. A lot.

Azriel did this and Az is so sweet isn’t he and oh, did I mention that…

Obviously, she was just as in love with Azriel as he was with her.

You were so, so right.

There was something off-putting about that truth, but you couldn’t put your finger on why. After a few days of hearing the younger girl rave about the shadowsinger, you chalked it up to the novelty of it all. You had known Azriel for over a century, and things were changing. Of course a serious love interest in his life would make you feel strange.

Azriel had had lovers in the past, but—now that you thought about it—you hadn’t heard him talk about another woman in months, much less seen him with one.

Well, other than Elain.

Perhaps it wasn’t healthy, nor productive, to be so caught up in Azriel’s love life. He was plenty capable of managing it on his own, and it’s not like you had that much of an interest, anyway.

You blinked, shaking your head and attempting to focus back in on the book you were reading. Elain had followed you into the library under the house, but thanks to the priestesses and their admonishing looks, she kept quiet. She flipped through her own book as you continued your research assignment from Rhys. It wasn’t very interesting, which was clearly the most plausible explanation for your mind drifting to Azriel.

Boring texts were the leading cause of nosiness.

“Do you have dinner plans?” Elain whispered after an hour of silence.

You sent her a small smile, looking up from the archaic book. “No, are you inviting me out?”

“Perhaps. I was thinking of asking Azriel.”

A suffocating sort of pressure clawed at your skin. “Oh?”

That was new.

“Yes, but I would really appreciate it if you came,” Elain continued, eyes downcast. “It could be fun.”

You bit into your bottom lip until the pain was uncomfortable. This was no different than her talking about Azriel all week. And you already figured that they liked each other—that they loved each other. You had relished in the discovery just a few nights ago.

So why did it suddenly feel so different?

“I wouldn't want to intrude,” you whispered. “I think a dinner with just the two of you would be nice. Azriel would surely agree.”

Elain shook her head. “I think he would be more inclined if he knew you were coming.”

As a buffer. She was asking you to come to displace any awkwardness that would arise on a first date. You had done it before for Cassian. You’d done it plenty of times for Mor—even making it a double date with random men you never spoke to again. But you’d never done it for Azriel.

Something about it felt… wrong.

“I could come,” you found yourself saying anyway, words tumbling out before you could catch them. “But I really do think he would love a dinner alone. I might be a bit of an outlier.”

Elain gave the closest thing to a smirk you’d seen on her face. “I somehow doubt that.”

“What does that—”

The ground was shaking. The faelights began violently flickering and the ground began shaking with even more vigor. You pressed down on the book in front of you and braced yourself as the air grew frenzied. The priestesses ran down the many stairs of the library as panic began setting into your bones. The last time something like this happened…

You shuddered at the thought.

This couldn't be an attack on Velaris.

Elain called your name. You answered with wide eyes.

“Get under the tables!”

You both dove beneath your table at the call, clutching at the legs with shaking hands. There was a commotion as books fell from shelves and lights popped, but there were no screams. No one was hurt. There was no attack.

Realization coursed through you, but it did little to quell your fear as the shaking continued.

“It’s an earthquake!” you shouted to Elain. “It’s okay, we’re going to be fine!”

Velaris hadn’t been struck by an earthquake of this magnitude in many, many years. The last one was centuries ago, and it had led to many rebuilding efforts and a handful of injuries. You hoped this wasn’t on the same scale. Or at least that Rhys’ magic was enough to abate the worst of the damages.

After another moment, the shaking ceased. You let the panic and adrenaline run its course as you caught your breath, Elain right beside you. It didn’t seem so bad now that it was over and the building had stayed intact. With a hand at your chest, you shook your head in disbelief.

“By the cauldron, that was unexpected.”

Elain let out a shaky laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt an earthquake before.”

You offered your own breathy laugh as you both got to your feet. “Well, you have plenty of time to get The Mother scared out of you and experience another.”

She opened her mouth to reply but was abruptly cut off as shadows materialized. Heavy footsteps rushed up stairs and it was only another beat before Azriel was upon you. Scarred hands cradled your face, turning it back and forth as hazel eyes took in every inch of your skin. Light became sparse as wings flared out behind him, shielding you from nothing.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded, voice still low despite the urgency. “Were you covered?”

“Azriel? What are you—How did you know we were down here?”

“Are you hurt?”

You attempted to reconcile the chaotic present with the very calm, very expected past. Sitting in the library with a boring relic in front of you and a new reading partner compared to an earthquake and a frazzled shadowsinger clutching at your face.

Gripping his wrists, you answered him with a slow and confused, “I’m fine.”

He closed his eyes as he let out a long breath. “Good…. good.”

When he released your face, he ran his hands along your hair. And then your shoulders and your arms. It wasn’t until he had touched most of you that he took a step back and ran a hand through his own hair. It was then that he seemed to remember Elain.

“And are you alright?” he asked, far more composed than he had been a moment ago.

“A bit overwhelmed, but I am fine as well,” she sighed out.

Azriel didn’t touch her as he nodded in relief.

“Was it as bad as the last one? Is everyone okay?” you cut in.

Azriel, who had gone back to unnecessarily looking you over, furrowed his brows. “What?”

You mirrored his expression. “The earthquake. Do you remember the last one? Was this one that bad?”

“Oh. No. Not as bad.”

“And how is everyone else?”

“I’m not sure.”

Azriel was typically short with his answers, but right now he was being particularly short. And he was never one to not have information. Ever.

“Are you okay?” you asked instead.

“I am now.”

You left the library wondering why Azriel had run to you and not Elain—why that moment felt so monumental in the face of all others.

Maybe being right wasn’t what you wanted anymore.

But maybe that wasn’t your decision to make.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #azriel #a court of thorns and roses

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heartless-tate · 2 months

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Notice me! | Azriel X Freader

summary; Azriel courting an oblivious reader.

a/n; Heyy! Just a little fic of being courted by Azriel. And you not being very aware of it. Hope you enjoy!

content/trigger warnings; knife, food, meat?, cussing, kissing, no use y/n, hint towards lust feeling, Azriel pining, Armen being sassy, FEM reader (if you’d like me to make a another post with male reader, message me!) she/her pronouns for reader, thunderstorm mention and I think that’s it. If I missed something, feel free to message me on it! 💝

word count: 3.1k. |. Part two

A plate clattered against the table causing your attention to turn to the man in front of you.

You met his gaze as he waited for you to try his new dish, his eyes seeming to shine as the sun hit his eyes. You swear he always seemed to be effortlessly beautiful. It was angering in some ways, you had even seen him wake up looking like a god. No. Better than a god. It didn’t matter if you spent an hour in the mirror, swiping various products of different expenses on your face; the result would be the same. The same boring face you saw everyday.

A wonderful smell wafted from the plate, causing your empty stomach to growl loud enough to shake the mountains. The shadowsinger smirked, pushing the plate of food closer to you with a gentleness most men didn’t have. Your face flushed with embarrassment, your hands instinctively coming to paw at your stomach, hoping it would stop. Your eyes wandered down to the plate where a meal sat.

“I haven’t made this before. I wanted you to be the first to try it.” He spoke with every ounce of grace and elegance a god would have. His hands grasped the seat across from you, pulling it out and taking a seat. His wings shifted until finding a comfortable position in the chair. You nodded in response, picking the fork up before taking in the rather- gracious portion of food he had made for you.

A ribeye steak bigger than your hand sat on the plate. Seasoning of different kinds were smothered on it, and the smell of butter consumed your senses. Your mouth watered in response. Beside it were two sides. Your favorites.

Armen smirked from where she sat beside you, watching as you lifted the steak knife and fork. You were so oblivious. She had been watching for the last few years as Azriel desperately chased after you, and you never seemed to even notice. It was amusing. He has spent hours staring at you, and you never realized. And if she pointed it out, you just assumed you had something on your face. She knew he was growing restless. Not tired of you, but tired of your complete oblivion. These days he seemed ready to scream from the top of the roof that he loved you.

Azriel’s scarred hand clutched at your wrist. He gently took the knife and fork away from you, before grabbing your plate and proceeding to cut your steak into bite sized pieces. Armen snickered from where she sat, resulting in a glare from Azriel.

“Oh- Azriel I can do that-“ You started.

“I know you can.” He responded. He didn’t give back your plate until your steak was cut into bite sized pieces for you. He watched you place the first bite of steak into your mouth.

Your eyes rolled back and you let out a hum of approval, chewing the food. The flavor was delicious, and it was quite easily the best steak you had ever tasted in your life. It wasn’t too buttery. Or too seasoned. It was just right. The meat was tender.

Azriel’s wings rustled at your hum. His face shined with pure male pride. His eyes never left you once while you chewed and swallowed. He stood, taking the steak knife that was no longer needed into the kitchen.

Armen followed after him. He sat the knife in the sink, letting the house do its magic before turning his attention to Armen.

“You’re like a love sick puppy.”

“My love life isn’t your business.” Azriel responded, his face tight. His words were low, ensuring you couldn’t hear.

“Hm. All I’m saying is your ‘courting’ isn’t going to work.” Armen said, picking at her nail leisurely. She was like a cat. Her piercing eyes watched as Azriel’s eyes narrowed at her with a scowl. Before he could comment more, Armen spoke again.

“She’s oblivious. It doesn’t matter if you fix her food, or leave her favorite pastries everywhere so she finds them, she won’t get the hint. Literally. I’m getting seasonal allergies from the amount of flowers you’ve left for her everywhere in this house.Seriously, this place is covered in flowers. Either start professing love or drop this little crush.” She growled out, walking out of the kitchen.

Azriel stayed silent before whispering,“It’s not little.”

“Yeah, don’t let me forget to grab a few early starfall gifts.” Mor said. You groaned loudly, rubbing your temples. Even the idea of her gifts made you want to cry. Her starfall gift for you these past few years have been a collection of ridiculously fuzzy socks. Every.Year.

Of course you were grateful, but everyone knew Mor’s gifts weren’t particularly good. You now had a drawer filled with fuzzy and odd colored socks.

Velaris was bustling today. Fae of all kids roamed the streets, some tending to their shops. Kids ran through the streets playing games. Everyone was out enjoying the sunny day. You and Mor decided to go shopping to pick up a few items. Your eyes wandered back down to your list, a few more candles, a book or two, and some lotion.

“Starfall gifts? I don’t think you need to shop this early for them-“

“Nonsense! It’s never too early to do gift shopping!” Mor said, cutting you off. You sighed and shook your head knowing it was hopeless to argue with her.

After a few trips to some stores, you both ended up getting lunch at Rita’s. You ordered a milkshake- apparently a new creation of a cold drink? None less, whatever they were, everyone had been going crazy over them in Velaris. And of course you also got your favorite meal. Mor ordered practically half the menu, content to eat her heart out. You didn’t blame her- food was good.

As your plates were sat down by the waitress, Mor eyed your food with a questioning look. Your eyebrows raised in confusion. “What? You’re looking at my food weird.”

“Oh. Well I’m just surprised to see you ordering a meal here. You know Azriel is gonna harp if you don’t eat his food.” Mor responded, shoveling food into her mouth as if she’d starve.

“Huh?” You countered.

Mor finished her food before rolling her eyes. She sighed deeply as if you had troubled her. “You know..” she said, waving her hands as if that would solve your confusion. When you raised your eyebrows with a puzzled face, she put her fork down.

“You know- when you eat something someone else cooked or you’re not hungry, and he’s cooked you a meal. And you refuse it- he gets all huffy and puffy! Like a broody motherhen.” She continued.

“He doesn’t even fix me food that often-“ you argued.

“Oh please! Breakfast, lunch, and dinner! Full course meal on the table for you. If only someone loved me that much.” Mor said, picking her fork back up. “Those meals weren’t from the house hun. All I’m saying is maybe you should pay more attention.”

For the rest of the meal, you both sat in silence as you pondered over her words.

Cassian laughed as you entered from the hallway. His eyes shined with amusement as you waddled to the counter with your shopping bags.

The sound was enough to draw a curious Azriel to the room. He immediately grabbed all your bags despite your complaints, setting them on the table. He nodded at you in response when you thanked him.

“I thought you were only shopping for a few things.” Cassian stated. He stood casually leaned against the table with a drink in his left hand. Azriel stood to your left, his wings expanded. His eyes were keen and watchful. You doubted he ever missed a single detail. His skin glistened with sweat, a musky bourbon scent coming from him. Cassian’s skin was sweaty too, evidence of them training together earlier in the day.

“Well, the candle store had a buy two get five for free deal. So I bought four and got ten for free! Cauldron I love Velaris!” You squealed, and Azriel smirked knowingly. He had taken note of your recent obsession with buying candles. Cassian shook his head.

Cassian's face lit up with surprise as you handed him two candles. “So I got one for everyone else. This one smells like leather and the other vanilla. I figured you’d like it Cas.” You continued. He nodded in thanks. You turned to Azriel.

“I got you this candle because I know you love blueberries. And this one is supposed to smell like rainy days and lightning. And this one is books and bourbon!”

Azriel’s eyes never looked down to the candles you had shoved in his arms. His eyes stayed on your face as you happily ranted about the candles. When you finished and looked back up to his face, he had a soft look. It was one you don’t think you’ve seen him use before. His eyes were soft and looked like pools of honey, and his smile was gentle.

You watched as he sat down the candles on the table and turned back to you. “They’re perfect.” He responded. He was so memorizing. You just knew whoever he ended up with would be content. You struggled taking your eyes from him.Cassian growled playfully.

“Hey! Unfair! He got three candles! I only got-“

Cassian was cut off by Mor smacking him on the back of the head as she trotted to the kitchen. She had a lot of leftovers to put away. Azriel gave him a quick glare, silencing him.

You noticed he was wearing all his leathers, and siphons. His shadows whirled leisurely around his shoulders and wings. Azriel watched as your eyes creased in confusion. He sighed. He couldn’t help but feel a shimmer of hope at the fact you had gotten him more candles than Cassian.

“Rhysand sent me on a mission, I’ll be gone for a few days most likely. I’m going to spy on the human queens and make sure all is well there.” He admitted. He watched as your face fell. You quickly smiled again and nodded. His heart thumped like a hammer in his chest. Did you care? Would you miss him like he always missed you? He wondered if you couldn’t sleep like he couldn’t when he was away from you.

“Oh. I see. Be safe.” You responded, nodding slowly. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the feeling in your chest. You had never felt it before. You wondered why all of a sudden you felt this way about him leaving.

His eyes softened even more. “I leave in an hour or two.” He whispered, head tilting to catch your eyes once more. Cassian had disappeared from the room all of a sudden, him and Mor talking loudly about dumb things in the kitchen. Leaving you and Azriel alone. “Let me cook you dinner before I leave.”

His eyebrows furrowed this time as you shook your head no. His smile dropped. He looked like a kicked puppy almost-

“I ate lunch with Mor.” You explained. Your explanation didn’t seem to comfort him as he shook his head in response.

“That was lunch. It’s time for dinner.” Azriel said firmly.

Your mind went back to Mor’s words. Pay more attention…what did she mean? What was there to pay attention to? Azriel cooked for everyone- right..? Your mind raced over your memories, trying to think of a single time you had seen Azriel set a plate down for one of the others.

“Alright then, fix me dinner Azriel.” You responded. Azriel smiled, pleased. His right wing flared, draping over your back. “Follow me.” He said, leading the way into the kitchen. His wing was warm against your back, as it guided you beside him. It was much larger than you were, towering over your head. As you entered the kitchen, Cassian and Mor immediately scampered out shouting something about extra training.

You watched Azriel move around the kitchen in a graceful dance of grabbing pans and pots. He kept his wings tucked in, to keep them from banging against counters and tables. His hair was messy from training, or like he had ran his hands through it more then once. But it never failed to frame his face. You watched as a few shadows dart around, grabbing various spices and ingredients for whatever new dish he’d make tonight. He set a pan down on the stove before turning to you.

His scarred hands gently grasped your hips, lifting you up effortlessly. He sat you on an empty space on the counter. He huffed a laugh at your squeak of shock. He patted one of your thighs gently before leaving your side and returning to his pan.

Your face flushed with embarrassment. He had lifted you as if you weighed nothing, showcasing his obvious strength. Everytime he touched you with his beautiful hands, it felt like everything stopped. As if the world had slowed to let you enjoy the moment. Your hands wrapped around your stomach, wondering what this weird feeling that had overcome you meant.

He moved swiftly, chopping ingredients and throwing things in various pots and pans. You quickly realized by smell alone he was making your comfort food. You remembered the night a storm had rolled in. Usually thunder and lightning didn’t scare you- but this was different. The booms and flashes were intense, shaking the ground and keeping you from sleep. You had stumbled to the house library in an attempt to distract yourself. But you only found Azriel instead. He had scented your obvious distress and took action immediately. He helped you settle on the couch with cushions and blankets before asking what a comfort food was. A good 15 minutes later he returned with a plate.

You don’t remember much pass that, you just remember becoming tired and sleepily. You remember feeling warm all of a sudden and then you woke up in your bed that morning.

“It’s almost done.” Azriel spoke, bringing you back from your memories. His eyes were distant as if he too was remembering that same night.

You smiled and thanked him as he handed you your bowl and a spoon. He made himself a bowl too. He took your bowl from his hands and sat it down, before grabbing you and setting you back on the floor. His hands stayed on your hips until he was sure you were balanced. He guided you to the sitting room with a fire.

Azriel didn’t eat until you took your first bite, ensuring you liked it. And of course, you did. It was warm, and comforting, like a hug in your mouth. It soothed your soul in ways nothing else could, the flavors easing your body from any previous aches. Azriel had never made a bad meal before. You both ate in silence together, with the comforting crackle of the fire and warming food. But as the time passed, you knew it came time for him to leave.

Your bowls sat on the coffee table. Both finished. The house made them disappear, taking care of them on its own. You were always amazed by its magic.

Your head snapped to Azriel as he stood. He sighed, looking at the clock on the wall. His eyebrows were furrowed and he almost looked like he wanted to chain himself to the wall before even considering leaving. He turned to your sitting form. His shadows seemed to move more quickly and sharper around his shoulders.

“It’s time for me to leave.” He whispered. He watched as you nodded solemnly. You smiled, but he knew it didn’t reach your eyes.

“Thank you for the meal.”

You watched as Cassian hugged Azriel in goodbye, and Mor nod as her own way of saying goodbye. Azriel had taken his candles to his room earlier, before joining everyone in the hallway. When one left for more then a day, you all said proper goodbyes.

Azriel turned to you, walking swiftly. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his big biceps practically squeezing the life out of you. He practically had to hold himself back from purring when your arms wrapped around his neck in return. Everything darkened as his wings cocooned you. His wings blocked out the noises of the others, leaving just you and him. His head found solace in your neck. His scent overwhelmed your senses in a good way. Before you had time to question Azriel being touchy, Cassian yelled,

“Ok! Ok! We get it, Azriel. Let go of her before you suffocate her.”

Azriel lifted his head, and his wings dropped. His eyes stayed latched on yours. A few seconds passed before he tore his eyes away and scowled at Cassian. His teeth bared in silent warning. Cassian backed down and turned to have conversation with the others. Azriel released you from his grip.

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t starve. And I left some flowers on your nightstand. I hope you don’t mind.” He whispered to you, fiddling with his hands like a nervous school boy. Your eyes lit up and you smiled gently.

“Thank you Azriel. Goodbye.” You whispered back in response. His smile turned upside down.

“I told you, call me Az. Or whatever you want- just not my full name. We’re closer than that.” He said in a growl like tone. He watched as you nodded your head.

It was time for him to leave now. He sighed deeply. The others had gone silent watching the scene with interest. But he didn’t seem to care.

He leaned down to your height, his hands grasping at your chin. He turned your head before leaving a gentle but firm kiss on the side of your cheek. “Sleep well tonight.” He whispered before pulling away. You stood in shock at the door to the balcony, as he said his last goodbyes. He waved in an almost shy way at you before taking flight.

You stood still, flabbergasted at what had happened. Slowly your hand rose to your cheek.

Realization dawned on you- he hadn’t ever fixed food for anyone else other than you.

a/n; hope you enjoyed, let me know if you want part two! 🌙

#azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel acotar #acotar 5 #acosf #imagine #azriel x reader angst #x reader #female reader #fem reader #reader insert

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prythianpages · 2 months

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I've Been Waiting For You | Azriel

summary: Azriel finally meets the one he's been longing for. His mate.

warnings: mentions of death (since the suriel & reader are friends); some angst but also fluff because Az deserves to be happy ♡

a/n: This is part of my ABBA x ACOTAR series (masterlist) where I dedicate a song to a character (: The lyrics kind of reminded me of Alice & Jasper from twilight and how she had a vision of meeting him. This does go back and forth a lot in the beginning between past and present and came out longer than I thought it would. It's 9.6K words (which for me is long lol.) I apologize if there are any spelling errors. I've read this multiple times but somehow, always miss a couple.

As the moonlight dances upon the water's surface, the river transforms into a liquid ribbon of silver, weaving through the city of Starlight. Anticipation fills the air as Azriel walks across the bridge that spans the Sidra, his massive Illyrian wings glistening in midnight hues under the pale moonlight.

Shadows play hide-and-seek as they travel through the night, drawn to the silhouette of a female figure. An intruder. Yet, Azriel's shadows dare to whisper something different into his ears.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your voice, carried by the wind, reaches him like a sweet caress, daring to awaken something deep within him. Beautiful. His shadows respond with a frenzy, a whirl of darkness singing wild tales into his ears, urging him forward. Meanwhile, his brain screams at the potential threat.

More tendrils of darkness dart toward you, ignoring their master’s orders to return. You don’t seem bothered by them. In fact, you seem to welcome them as if they’re old friends of yours.

Azriel swallows, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, unsure what to make of this.

“Who are you?”

Finally, you turn around and Azriel feels like the wind has been knocked out of him when his gaze meets yours. In the midst of the surrounding darkness, your eyes gleam with an inexplicable brightness. Specs of silver glimmer in your eyes, mirroring the stars above, as they shine back at him.

“That’s for you to decide,” you reply with a smile that carries both hope and a sense of knowing as you follow after him and take a step forward.

“But for now, I’d like to speak with your High Lady.”

Months before…

The brilliance of a thousand stars shine down on you and the night seems to hold its breath, as if it too, awaits the whispered prophecies from the celestial expanse above. Like always, you are itching to unveil them with your finely attuned senses. A gust of cool wind brushes through your hair, sending shivers down your exposed skin. Pulling your gaze away from the night sky, you turn in time to see a cloaked figure approaching like a shadow in the night.

Your lips curve into a smile. “Hello, friend.”

“y/n.” The Suriel greets you, hovering beside you. Then, not missing another beat, he says, “I told her Rhysand was her mate.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, a gasp escaping your lips. “You did not.”

“I did.” He grins back at you, flashing you his stained teeth.

You can’t help but laugh a little at your dear old friend. The Suriel lets out a rattled sound you discern as a laugh as he joins you. Always the one for dramatics. You still remember hearing about his first encounter with Feyre Archeron and how he told her to stay with the High Lord.

“I told her she must stay with the High Lord.”

“Did you specify which one?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I’m sure she handled it well,” you respond but your smile fades, giving way to a wistful expression. “She’s lucky. Not only is she made but the Cauldron has blessed her with a mate. The High Lord of the Night Court at that.”

The weight of his gaze settles upon you. You’re aware that your words carry a tinge of envy, a sentiment that feels unjust when considering everything Feyre has endured. The Suriel, ever perceptive, acknowledges this as well. He chooses not to remind you and indulges you instead.

“The Cauldron has blessed you as well, my child.”

“Have you seen it?”

Hope sparks in your eyes as you turn to face him. His eyes, pools of ancient wisdom, seem to pierce through the veils of time and secrets. You sense one of them unfolding. But he only gives you a teasing glimpse.

“Perhaps.”

With a furrow in your brows, you lift your head back up to glare at the night sky. The stars seem to blink at you in a teasing manner, as if finding amusement in keeping this secret from you.

“How come I haven’t seen it?”

“You will soon.” He reassures, following your gaze upwards. A dance of amusement swirls within the depths of his eyes. “He’s waited centuries for you. Count your stars lucky that your waiting won’t be as long.”

Back to the present…

Velaris lived up to its name. A dream compared to the horrors of the city you grew up in. But as the city sparkles and comes to life at the darkening hour, all your attention is drawn to the male before you. He’s even more breathtaking in person. Everything about him is classically beautiful and the moon seems to agree, shining down on him and casting an ethereal glow on the golden-brown of his skin.

As Azriel continues to approach you, his wings fold gracefully behind him. His gaze is locked onto yours and though his eyes are cautious and analytical, there’s a warm shiver running down your spine. The desire to lose yourself in the hazel depths of his eyes becomes an irresistible pull.

Before you know it, the shadows brushing against your arms rise and come to rest against your eyes in a blindfold. Darkness engulfs you, and the sensation of weightlessness takes hold as Azriel winnows both of you. You land on a soft cushion–a chair. The dark tendrils leave your eyes and wrap around your wrists and legs, binding them together.

“Stay here.” Azriel says, the shadows wrapped around your limbs tightening in a silent warning.

A chuckle escapes from you and when your eyes meet his again, you flash him a mischievous smile. It widens when he’s the first to fold, quickly averting his gaze. He has no clue. You’re exactly where you want to be.

He leaves the room and your eyes finally take in your surroundings. Veiled curtains made of midnight blue silk drape the expansive windows, pulled back to allow moonlight to filter through. Shelves line the walls, housing collections of ancient artifacts and magical trinkets. A large desk, crafted from dark, polished wood rests before you. Your gaze fixates on the wall behind it, where a captivating portrait of the female you seek rests.

The door behind you swings open, and you turn to witness the graceful entrance of the female from the portrait. Feyre, the Cursebreaker and High Lady of the Night Court. She's a vision of night and beauty, her golden-brown hair cascading down her exposed back, revealing glimpses of moon phases etched along her spine.

“High Lady,” you say in greeting, bowing your head in respect.

Surprisingly, the High Lord doesn't accompany her. Instead, it's Azriel who trails behind her. Her calm blue eyes assess you as she takes a seat across from you. Azriel stands guard behind her and you feel his shadows watching your every breath.

"And who might you be?"

“I’m y/n,” you respond, choosing your next words carefully. “An old friend of the Suriel’s. I’ve come to pledge my allegiance to you and offer my help.”

Something flickers in her blue eyes at the mention of the Suriel and her stoic expression falters, if only for a moment. You send her a sympathetic smile, your own heart aching at the mention of the fearsome creature you both held dear.

“Your help?” She echoes.

"She’s a seer," Azriel interjects, his voice setting your heart alight as there's no hint of disgust or apprehension in his tone.

Your kind is often regarded with hostility. He might not know your connection...yet. But he’s paid you enough attention to recognize your abilities and appears to be indifferent about them. If the Suriel were still alive, you know he’d laugh at your slight delusion.

"I am," you confirm. "And I know your sister is one too." You don’t miss the tension in Azriel’s body at the mention of the cauldron-made fae, but you don't dwell on it as you can also sense Feyre's protectiveness. "She has great potential. I can help her hone her skills. Together, we can—"

"No," Azriel growls protectively. His sharp interruption has you startling in your seat and hope deflates as you feel the intensity of his glare.

Feyre raises a hand, signaling him to stand back. “Why should I trust you?”

“Let me show you.”

Months before…

“By the Cauldron, what did you get yourself into?”

The Suriel grins mischievously, his tattered cloak barely clinging to his bony form. He graciously accepts the cloak you offer, a luxurious piece made of the softest velvet in the darkest shade of black you could find. A purr escapes him as he revels in its warmth. "Nothing," he responds coyly, the satisfaction evident in the bounce of his form as he hovers in the air.

You shoot him a pointed look, yearning to know what he was up to. You’re certain it was no good. “Sure,” you retort and then gesture toward the crackling fire you started. “I also made dinner.”

“You spoil me.”

“It’s what friends do.”

"Friend," he muses, the white pools of his eyes burning into your soul, as he turns to you. "As a friend, I should tell you that your dress is absolutely atrocious on you. Cobalt blue is more your color."

With a glare, you playfully throw the roasted chicken over the fire at his face. He effortlessly catches it with his mouth, cackling as he chews on the tender piece of meat.

"What do you know about fashion? All you do is thirst for robes."

“You forget that I am older than the bones of this world. I know everything about everything. I also cannot lie.”

"Doesn't stop you from hiding the truth," you respond cheekily, and he hums in agreement,

Silence falls as he seats himself beside you on the ground. He breaks it a couple of moments later. “Remember what I told you last time?”

You release a deep sigh because you do remember. The mere thought haunts you nearly every night, and you’re often burdened by the heavy weight of it. Your shoulders slump in response. “Why can't you do it yourself?”

“It is your fate, not mine,” he states simply, a reminder of the immutable laws of destiny.

“I’m not ready.”

You don’t think you ever will be and suddenly, you’re that fragile sixteen year old again, who had to run away from the only place you called home to escape a cruel fate. The one who was left to navigate through her new onset of divine abilities alone.

That is, until, the fateful night you had thrown your cloak over a tree branch to dry. It had been stained by blood after a rough and almost deadly encounter with a stray naga so you had spent all morning cleaning it in the river nearby. Completely unaware of the Suriel you were summoning.

“You do not fear me?”

“That is mine,” you had said through clenched teeth with a deep rooted glare.

In the midst of your tug of war with the Suriel, your cloak tore in half. In that moment, you braced yourself for the dark creature's wrath. However, something in you captured his attention that day, and he chose not to unleash his fury upon you. He decided to take you under his wing instead.

He recognized your lineage without a single word spoken about it. He could sense your power coursing through your veins, waiting to be unraveled. After decades of patience and practicing, he was there to witness the formation of stars weaving themselves into the depths of your eyes. The mark of your seer abilities.

As always, the Suriel reads you like an open book. He can sense your insecurity, your hesitancy. But, in equal measure, he can sense your power, your potential.

“You will be,” he insists, his words carrying the unwavering certainty of the all-knowing creature he is. “You must guide and open the eyes of Elain Archeron the same way I did for you.”

Your throat tightens. “When?”

“Soon.”

And when you look up to gaze at the night sky, the stars align for you. A cascade of visions unfurls, pouring over you like a celestial waterfall. Your eyes become a myriad of galaxies and ears are teased with glimpses of conversations and whispers from the stars above. One moment, you’re in a forest, standing before a female figure crouched over a cloaked one.

“The tracking…I knew of it.”

Then, a rattling breath. “Leave this world a better place than how you found it.”

Abruptly, the scene shifts, and you stand in an enchanting city of starlight, gazing at the expansive river before you as anticipation fills the air. He comes for you. Azriel, the shadowsinger. The name resonates in the echoes of your mind.

Then, the final vision envelopes you, drawing you into the depths of mesmerizing hazel eyes. The voice that accompanies it is carried by the enchantment of night, gently caressing against your ears.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Mate. That is your mate. Azriel, the–

“Do you see it now?”

With a sharp intake of breath, you’re pulled from the downpour of your visions, only to find your senses clouded with tears that pool at the corners of your eyes. How cruel, you think, your heart twisting in agony. And though meeting your mate–your fated companion–was among your greatest dreams, you no longer want it. Not if it means you’ll lose your greatest companion.

You can live without knowing your mate. After all, you’re doing so at this very moment. The Suriel has been your friend for decades. Two souls brought together by their mutual loneliness. An all knowing creature and a seer. Together, you’re a powerful duo, navigating through the fated intricacies of Prythian. You’d be lost without him.

“Please don’t go,” you’re begging.

The Suriel smiles but it’s not his usual mischievous grin. This time, a tinge of sorrow lingers in the curve of his lips, casting his expression in a veil of sadness.

“I have to. It’s my time to go,” he says. “Just promise me one thing?”

“Anything.”

“That when it’s your time to shine, you’ll find Feyre. Help her make this world a better place.”

Back to Present

Feyre blinks back tears as she withdraws from your mind. She turns her head toward the Shadowsinger behind her, and for a moment, fear grips you. You allowed her to see the revelation of Azriel being your mate but only because it was deeply entwined with the other pertinent visions.

“Release her.”

The shadows release their grip on you and you let out a deep exhale in relief. But the inky tendrils don’t leave your side. They linger and hover over you and at this, Azriel’s eyebrows furrow.

Feyre extends her hand out toward you. Her blue eyes are warm, a gentle reassurance that she’d harbor your secret for you. A smile graces her lips, one that you're happy to reciprocate.

“I’ll gladly accept your help but let me speak with Elain first. You may stay here. There’s a spare room upstairs. Azriel will show you around.”

Following his High Lady’s orders, Azriel shows you around the grand estate. He’s a bit reserved around you and you don’t blame him. Both a blessing and a curse, your visions offer insight into his world, yet you're a mere stranger imposing on the family he protects fiercely.

And as he finally shows you to your room, the one right next to his, you can only hope that someday, he’ll welcome you too. After all, he is your mate.

Elain Archeron is infinitely beautiful. Inside and out. She is gentle and sweet and you see why some mistake her kindness for weakness. But it took only days for you to become well aware of the strength and power she harbors deep within.

While your abilities were limited to what the stars wanted to show you, you sensed that hers were limitless. With the right training, she could summon visions at her call, anticipate anyone's move. You wanted to help her achieve that and prove those people that saw her as something fragile wrong. Though reluctant toward your help at first, Elain was kind enough to listen to you and consider the advice you gave. It took some further convincing but you knew she was itching to unravel the depths of her powers too.

But it's proving to be a challenge. A hard and exhausting one. You're not surprised. It took you many years to become attuned to your powers. What is surprising, however, are Azriel's feelings for her. They're obvious and plain to see and could you blame him? Elain is wonderful...and you can't help but compare yourself to her. She's everything you're not.

Upon your arrival, you had been set on making Azriel fall for you. That was, until, you realized he was already entangled in the threads of another's heart. Could it be that the Suriel, in his all knowing wisdom, purposefully shielded you from such revelations about your mate? To delay the shattering of your dreams?

Now, you were just content to focus on your task at hand. To help Elain the way the Suriel did with you, even if Azriel was there as a safety net for her every session. Even if the way he was well attuned to every shift of her expression sent a sharp pain stabbing through your heart. He was blissfully unaware of your connection, clouded by his affection for Elain.

And you were tired of chasing after males. It's why you shot down Feyre's suggestion of confessing to Azriel. You dreamed of having a mate, pleaded to the Cauldron even. Now, you realize, that you want Azriel to like you for you. To chose you too the way Feyre did with Rhysand. If Elain was the person he chose at the moment, then so be it.

"I don't chase. I attract," you told Feyre. The same words you had uttered to the Suriel years ago after he poked fun at you over a failed romance. One of many, unfortunately.

"The only thing you'll attract with that attitude of of yours is a dark cloud of shadows," The Suriel had laughed at you, earning an icy glare from you.

But Feyre is much nicer about it than your dear old friend. She gives you an encouraging smile instead and wishes you luck on your upcoming session with Elain.

Your session with Elain ends terribly–with her screaming in pain and Azriel glaring at you and telling you to go, despite your attempts at apologizing. You spend the following days, weeks even, trying to make up for it. You slowed down in pace in your exercises with Elain, despite her protests. She held no animosity toward you at the dark turn that session had made.

You also buried yourself into any book you could find about seers in the magnificent Night Court library, grieving and longing for the Suriel. He would know what to do, and know exactly how to help. It’s the mere thought of him that fuels your determination to keep trying, despite how much you want to leave. It’s laughable almost, how in the midst of so many people, the sense of loneliness weighs heavier on you than it ever did in the solitude of Prythian's forests.

But perhaps, a break wouldn't be such a bad idea? You think as your gaze lands on an intriguing cover. It's a work of pure fiction. The ideal escape from reality. Retrieving it from its shelf, you settle into one of the plush chairs and immerse yourself into the words etched onto the pages.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty.”

A nudge against your leg startles you awake, and as you blink away the remnants of sleep, your eyes widen at the sight of Azriel standing before you. Sleeping beauty, the words sink in, painting a soft blush over your cheeks.

“You missed dinner.”

“Oh.”

You turn your head, wincing at the dull ache in your neck from sleeping in an awkward position. The soft glow of the moon greets you through one of the library's windows. You don’t know when you had fallen asleep but you must’ve been out for hours. When you face Azriel again, your gaze drops to his hands, where he holds a carefully arranged plate of food. Your stomach growls as the scent hits you and your eyes linger on the generous serving of potatoes–your favorite–in comparison to the other vegetables and meat.

“Is that for me?” you ask, and immediately curse yourself for the seemingly silly question. You blame it on the lingering grasp of sleep, still reluctant to release its full grip on you.

"No, it's for the rats that come out at night," he replies, lips twitching upwards at the reaction it stirs from you. How the Suriel never scared you but a couple of hairy, smaller creatures do is beyond you. He places the plate on the small table beside you.

"Yes, it's for you. A peace offering. For snapping at you."

"That was two weeks ago.”

"Bet you didn't see it coming," he teases, and you find yourself blinking in surprise. The Shadowsinger cracking a joke? It's a sight to behold. At least for you.

Your eyes narrow. "Did Feyre send you?"

"No," Azriel replies simply, his tone carrying a sincerity that sets a flicker of hope alight in you. He then sighs. "I just realized I haven't been the most welcoming, that's all."

You smile in response and shift in your seat as you turn your body towards the food. The movement has the book in your lap falling. His hand reaches the book before yours could and the brush of your skin against his sends a delightful shudder through your body.

His eyes curiously look over the title and when he hands it back to you, you take note of the way he avoids looking at his scarred fingers. So you reach forward and brush your fingers against his again, letting them linger for a beat longer than before. Surprise flickers in his hazel eyes as he meets your gaze, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

“That book is one of my favorites," he says, his shadows dancing across his shoulders and peeking curiously at you. "I'm surprised you're into the mystery genre."

"Why?"

“Well, you’re hard to read sometimes. Like a mystery that refuses to be solved.”

An arched brow is your response, but the gleam in your eyes gives away more than you'd like. “Maybe I don’t want to be unraveled.”

Azriel's lips twitch upwards once more. “Maybe it just takes the right person.”

Bathed in the glow of sunlight, you and Elain sit across from one another on the soft bed of green grass. Meanwhile, Azriel leans against a tree, a couple of feet away. His gaze is intense as he watches you two. Too focused on not letting it faze you, you fail to catch the way it softens when he turns to you.

Azriel can’t help but frown when he catches you avoiding his gaze. He wonders if you still harbor some resentment toward the way he had snapped at you awhile back, even though he already apologized for it.

"Close your eyes and focus on your breath," he hears you instruct softly. "Feel the rhythm of the earth beneath you. Attune yourself to the heartbeat of the world around you. What do you hear?”

Elain closes her eyes in deep concentration. “I can hear the wind and the tremble of the grass beneath it. I can hear the wind carry all the way to the sea.”

“Good,” you say and though her eyes remain closed, you smile gently at her. A gesture that sends a rush of warmth through him.

“Now feel the whispers of the unseen.”

“I can’t.” Elain’s eyebrows furrow.

“Here, take my hands,” you say as you reach for hers. “Imagine a pool of water within you, calm and reflective. Use me as a vessel to carry you through it. I’ll guide you to where your visions will manifest.”

Elain does as told. The world stills around you two. You close your eyes. As Elain’s eyebrows relax, your own face contorts in concentration. Azriel feels himself tense when he realizes it’s not concentration etching onto your face–it’s pain. In a heartbeat, he’s kneeling before you and prying your hands apart.

“Stop!”

Your eyes snap open at the sudden disconnection, and Azriel is unsettled by the way you shrink back from him, panic widening your eyes.

“I’m not hurting her!”

But it’s not Elain he’s worried about. He hasn’t even spared her a glance. It’s you–you’re the one that’s hurt. Blood trickles down your nose and he’s urging you to lean forward, gently guiding you with his hands as Elain rushes for a towel.

“Are you okay?”

There’s a dull ache in your head but also one in your heart and you’re too disoriented to stop yourself from saying, “If you stop staring at me like that, I will be.”

Azriel releases a soft chuckle, his muscles relaxing in relief at the playful edge in your tone. Yet, his shadows, wanting to confirm you're okay themselves, flutter toward you in a delicate cloud of darkness.

"Like what?”

“Don’t make me answer that.”

And you’ve never felt more relief at the sight of Elain coming in between you with a towel in hand.

A sudden sound has you stirring from your sleep. Your hand instinctively slides under your pillow, fingers grasping for the dagger you always keep with you when sleeping. The sound comes again and your initially alarmed body relaxes as you recognize it as the sound of someone knocking. Wrapping a robe around your night shift, you head toward the door, expecting Elain on the other side.

Upon opening your door, you’re surprised to find Azriel standing on the other side.

“You’re not going to Starfall?”

“Good morning to you too.”

Azriel’s eyes rake over your form, taking in your disheveled state. His lips curl into a faint smile. "It's noon," he observes in an amused manner.

Your eyes widen in disbelief, and you pivot your head toward the clock that hangs on the wall of your room. There, confirming his statement, the hands point a half hour past twelve. You overslept. You didn’t have any plans today and it seems your exhausted body took advantage of it.

“Is everything okay?”

His voice, laced with genuine concern, draws your attention back to him. The soft furrow of his brow and the warmth in his eyes catch you off guard. You hesitate. You don’t want to lie but you also don’t want to burden him with the truth.

So you settle for a, “Why?”

"I've noticed you haven't been sleeping much," he remarks, and before you can interrupt, he gestures toward his room, the one adjacent to yours. A silent acknowledgment that he's been more attentive than you realized. It pulls at the strings of your heart. "Or attending family dinners, and now Feyre tells me you're not going to Starfall?"

The weight of his observations presses on you. You didn’t think anyone had noticed. "Why do you care?" you retort, your words sharper than intended, and a wince follows.

"Isolation is not a good coping method," he responds, his tone steady and unfazed by your sharpness. "Trust me, I know."

"I don't have a dress." The words escape your lips, but even as you say them, you recognize the feebleness of the excuse.

“I’ll buy you one.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, and you feel a telltale blush spreading as the thought of Azriel buying you a dress takes root. He’s just being nice, you tell yourself. His gaze remains fixed on you, hazel eyes bright and gleaming with curiosity, as if daring you to come up with another excuse.

“Starfall is tomorrow.”

Azriel grins at you. It sends a flutter through your heart and you wonder if he can hear the erratic beat of it.

“Better make haste and get dressed then. We’ve got a couple of hours before the shops close.”

You deliberately take extra time getting ready, a mix of anticipation and apprehension swirling within you as you prepare to spend time with Azriel. Half-expecting a hint of annoyance, you finally open the door to your room, only to find Azriel with a welcoming smile that has the bond in your chest humming. Still, you're met with silence at the other side.

You take a deep breath as he gestures for you to follow him. As you step outside, he offers his arm and winnows you, not wanting to waste anymore time. You both find yourselves in the bustling shopping plaza of Velaris, where the fragrance of blooming flowers and the animated chatter of people embrace you.

Elaborate Starfall-themed displays adorn the shops, enticing you inside. Suddenly, the sheer array overwhelms you, and an urge to step back washes over you. Azriel place a hand on your back, stopping you and guiding you towards one of the shops.

“Welcome!” A voice happily chirps. “How can I help you?”

A stunning female enters your line of sight, her gaze immediately fixating on the male standing behind you. Her lips curve into a captivating smile, causing a twinge of jealousy to flicker within you. It’s short lived as Azriel clears his throat, gently nudging you forward.

“We’re looking for a dress for her.” Azriel speaks for you.

“Splendid! What’s the special occasion?”

“Starfall.” Azriel answers.

The female’s eyes widen, her smile morphing into a strained one. “I’m afraid I’ve sold all my best work already.”

“Oh, that’s alright. Sorry for the trouble,” you quickly reply, attempting to conceal the relief in your voice. Turning to leave, Azriel's hands land on your shoulders, directing you back to face the female.

“I’m sure we can find something in here,” Azriel reassures with a polite smile, scanning the aisles of dresses. “Y/n isn't picky. Right?”

“I can be,” you mumble under your breath.

Azriel lets out a sound, what you discern as a muffled chuckle. He gives your shoulder a squeeze and then leans down toward your ear. “If I were you, I’d take advantage of the situation.”

You turn your head slightly and regret it immediately. It takes all your strength to hold back the shudder your body wants to give at his proximity. He’s so close you can feel his breath fanning against your neck and you wonder what it would feel like to have his lips pressed against that sensitive skin.

It surprises you how quickly you find your voice.

“I’m going to pick the most expensive one.”

“Go ahead,” Azriel says and you can hear the smirk in his voice without having to look at him. He doesn’t allow you to get another word in, urging you forward again to where the female patiently awaits for you.

She lightly grasps your arm, leading you toward a rack of dresses in various styles and colors while Azriel makes himself comfortable on the couch by the fitting room. “You are a lucky lady,” she muses, her hands gracefully exploring the textures of her creations. “I’ve had this shop for centuries and you’re the first lady the Shadowsinger has brought to me.”

A blush warms your cheeks as you divert your attention to the array of beautiful dresses. Each one is a work of art, making you question her earlier claim about not having her best work available. If these weren't her finest creations, the thought of what her best work looked like leaves you intrigued.

The female, who’s name you learn is Willow, has you try on a couple of dresses that differ in styles. You’re reluctant to show Azriel each one but given he’s paying for it and the only other one in this shop, you feel like he should have some say.

“Do you like it?” Willow beams at you, admiring her work.

On the fifth dress, your hands run over the tulle of the vibrant yellow skirt. The fabric feels itchy against your skin, and the color is too bold for your taste. You swear you are not trying to be picky, despite what you told Azriel earlier.

“I li–”

“Let’s try another?” Azriel cuts in as if sensing the lie that was about to unfold. He rises from his seat toward one of the racks and pulls out a dress that caught his eye earlier. “How about this one?”

He holds the dress out to you, smiling softly when you take it from him. It’s much simpler compared to the other dress you’ve tried on but still just as elegant. It’s also soft against your skin. Willow guides you back into the fitting room, deftly assisting you out of the vivid yellow dress and into the cobalt blue silk one.

“I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. Cobalt blue is more your color!" Willow says as she gushes over you.

Her choice of words leaves you momentarily stunned. Cobalt blue is more your color. The exact words the Suriel had spoken to you. Also, the exact same shade as Azriel's siphons. The Suriel must’ve enjoyed himself a lot when he said those words to you. That sneaky little creature... You can hear his laugh echoing through your mind.

As you finally emerge from the dressing room, Azriel can’t help but stare. The fabric drapes gracefully around you, accentuating curves he hadn't noticed before. Sensing his prolonged gaze, your eyes meet his. It was him quickly averting his gaze, a subtle flush coloring his cheeks. He clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure.

"This is the one. It looks…good on you," he manages to say, his voice slightly strained.

“It’s 500 gold marks.”

He picks up on the teasing in your tone and the way Willow shakes her head in reassurance at him. Still, he humors you and says, “I don’t care.”

He’d pay more than 500 gold marks just to make you happy.

Azriel battled with restless thoughts that night, unable to find solace in sleep. Each time he closed his eyes, the vivid image of you in that dress invaded his mind. He couldn’t wait to see you in that dress again. Maybe then, he’d have the courage to compliment you better.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the first guests arrived for the Starfall celebration, Azriel's eyes eagerly scanned the gathering crowd, seeking a glimpse of you. Just as a twinge of disappointment crept in, his shadows stirred, signaling your proximity. His wings twitched with anticipation, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of you. You are absolutely stunning. Breathtaking.

In an instant heartbeat, he’s pushing Cassian, who was ready to fly you up to the House of Wind, aside. With a warning look, Cassian steps away with a chuckle.

"You're here," he whispers, a blend of disbelief and relief saturating his breath.

“Well a very nice male spent a lot of money for me to be here.”

“Well I’m glad.” Azriel chuckles, eyes drinking you in again. Savoring you. “You’re beautiful.”

“So are you.”

Azriel flushes at the unexpected compliment and his shadows to come to life around him. He smiles at you. “Shall we?”

He waits for your nod before carefully hooking an arm beneath your knees, eyes never leaving yours. A thrill courses through him as he revels in the sensation of your arms around his neck, taking delight in the way you feel in his arms. His wings unfurl behind him, preparing for the short flight up. The sound has your eyes fluttering shut, arms tightening around him and face burying into his neck. He finds it absolutely endearing. He never wants to let you go.

Against his wishes, the flight up to the balcony was short. He sets you down, helping you regain your footing, a lingering touch before reluctantly releasing you. There’s still more guests he, unfortunately, has to fly up. It’s as if you sense his internal conflict because you’re turning around to face him, eyes bright and alight.

“Yes, Azriel. I’ll save you a dance.”

The way his name rolls off your tongue sends a thrill up his spine. He opens his mouth to say something but once again, you beat him to it.

"Thought I'd save you the question," you stated, an all-knowing grin gracing your features as you tapped the corner of one of your eyes. Ah, so you had a vision of him. He wonders about the other glimpses you might have seen.

He doesn’t have too much time to dwell on it as Elain is rushing toward you, showering you with compliments. He takes that as his cue to depart. He is determined to finish his tasks in bringing the remaining guests up as fast as he can so that he can return to you and that dance you promised.

Azriel finds himself stealing glances whenever he thinks you won’t notice. The sparkle in your eyes, the way the dress accentuates your features–he can't look away. Caught up in the melody of your laughter, provoked by something Elain said, Azriel and his shadows are too mesmerized in the beauty of you to notice Feyre approaching until she speaks.

"She’s beautiful," Feyre remarks, her eyes following the same path as Azriel's gaze.

A soft affirmation escapes Azriel's lips. "Yes."

Feyre, well aware of the answer, delves further. "You bought her that dress?"

“Yes.”

A mischievous gleam flickers in Feyre's eyes as she delivers her next statement. "You like her."

Azriel's response slips out before he can even grasp the depth of his own admission. "Yes."

He turns to Feyre, his wide eyes betraying the shock of his own revelation. A slight pallor washes over his skin, and Feyre chuckles at his reaction. Sensing the tension in the air, she rests a reassuring arm on his shoulder. “I like her too,” she confesses.

Though, both of them recognize that Azriel's feelings for you run deeper and in more intricate ways than Feyre's own fondness.

“I offered her a place in this court. She said she’d think about it. Maybe you can convince her? The same way you convinced her to come to Starfall,” Feyre says and then with one last pat on his shoulder, she makes her way back toward Rhysand.

Still recovering from the revelation of his own feelings, it takes a while longer for the weight of Feyre’s words to sink in. A mixture of surprise, uncertainty, and a flicker of hope plays out across his features. You weren’t planning on staying? The thought of you leaving–leaving him stirs a feeling in his chest. His eyes seek you out again but you’re no longer standing beside Elain.

In your place, stands Lucien and normally the sight would trigger dark emotions from him. But now? He feels nothing. There’s no sense of envy. His affections have shifted elsewhere.

Azriel’s shadows fall to the floor, slithering against the cool tile like serpents of the night. They lead the way directly to where you stand, by the champagne table. He makes his way toward you and you're downing the rest of the liquid in your glass.

“Azriel.” You smile at him.

“It’s time for you to fulfill the promise you made me.”

“Of course,” you reply, offering him your hand.

Azriel gracefully pulls you into his embrace. One hand wraps around yours while the other rests on your waist. The enchanting melody guides your movements as the two of you glide across the floor.

“Feyre told me she offered you a role in this court.”

Your eyes, wise and mysterious, meet his, and he feels your body tense under his hold. “What else did she tell you?”

“That you’d think about it,” he says, the rhythm of the dance allowing for a moment of ease to settle between you. “You should stay.”

“Why?”

A wistful expression colors your features and the soft glow of stars are reflected in your eyes. The music comes to a gradual end and you free yourself of his hold before the next song begins.

“There’s no one here for me.” You admit and then give a small laugh as you look down. There's a deep, haunting sadness to your laughter, striking a chord within him.

“I’m right here.”

Lifting your head back up, your eyes search his for something with a glimmer of hope. An eternity seems to pass in your gaze. A frown settles over your lips and he feels a tinge of sadness. Whatever you sought, it seems you did not find it.

Suppressing the surge of emotions within him, his hand reaches for yours again. He guides you to somewhere more private, toward one of the balconies that is off limits to the guests. “Talk to me,” he says, his words carrying an invitation for you to unburden your heart.

Your hands grip onto the railing before you and attention is directed up towards the night sky. He mirrors your actions, resting his hands close to yours. So close he can feel your warmth but not close enough to touch.

"It feels weird being here," you sigh deeply. "My mother and I used to sneak out of Hewn City on Starfall just to catch a glimpse of these migrating spirits every year...until she realized what I was. She said I was a curse, said she would turn me into Keir and let him have his way with me if I didn't leave."

Azriel's fingers clench into a white knuckled grip at your words.

"Not that leaving a horrible city such as Hewn was exactly a punishment. It was probably for the best. Still didn't stop me from being scared. It was the first time in my life that I was actually alone. I learned how to survive."

"I met the Suriel a year later. He must've taken pity on me and would visit me without being summoned. Sometimes, it'd be to tease me with some gossip. Other times, to annoy and chide me for my mistakes. Most importantly, he taught me how to not only survive on my own but live alone. I don't know, it's probably silly but I just felt a lot less lonely when I was actually alone than I do here."

“It’s not silly. I used to feel that way too.” Azriel admits and after a moment of silence, he’s turning toward you. “Am I not your friend?”

“I don’t know,” you find yourself saying again, uncertainty clouding your expression. Pausing, you tear your gaze from the night sky to look at him. “Do you want to be?”

“Yes,” Azriel smiles at you. And so much more.

You smile back at him but it doesn’t last long. Turning your head to face directly ahead, you bite the inside of your cheek in hesitation, revealing to Azriel that there’s more troubling you than your sense of loneliness.

“What else?”

“There’s nothing else.”

“y/n.”

“I feel like a failure.”

Azriel's eyes widen, his heart sinking to his stomach. “You’re not,” he reassures quickly.

“I–I just,” you stammer, the weight of self-doubt evident in your voice. “It’s nearing four months since I’ve arrived, and I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface with Elain.”

“How long did it take you to harness your abilities?”

“Decades,” you respond, the admission carrying a hint of sheepishness. “But Elain is different. This is different. I don’t want to disappoint her. Disappoint Feyre. The world we know is crumbling apart, and we don’t have time. If–if we cannot fix it before it’s too late, I will have failed him.”

“Hey, look at me.”

When you don’t, Azriel lightly grips your chin, coaxing your gaze to him. “You’re here, aren’t you? You’re honoring his wish by just being here. Keep trying,” he encourages, wiping away your tears. “I’ll be here with you every step of the way. You’re not alone. We’ll face this together.”

“Together?”

He releases his hold on you, resting his hand once more on the rail. This time, it’s even closer to yours.

“Together,” he confirms, heart swarming with warmth when your hand bridges the gap between you and brushes against his.

And finally, it seems your lonely days are through.

Azriel’s been in love before. Twice. Or at least, he thought it was love. One was unrequited, a silent ache he carried within. The other was forbidden, a love he had clung to with misguided hope. He was beginning to come to the begrudging conclusion that love was simply not meant for him.

Then, you came along. Strange as it seems, you've seemed to have brought back that old feeling to him, awakening something deep inside of him. And though he doesn't know what you did, he thinks--he hopes that you could be the one. The one to possibly release him from the chains of solitude and longing.

You've rarely left his mind since the night he met you. The echoes of your first words to him lingered in his mind long after your encounter, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your voice was cloaked in both mystery and certainty, as though you held the threads of destiny within your grasp. It prompted him to ask who you were but your answer, “that’s for you to decide” only gave rise to more questions.

Then, there was that smile. So beautiful, so hopeful. It etched itself into the recesses of his memory. It was a smile no one had ever bestowed upon him before and one he longed to see it again.

And he almost ruined it all–that day he snapped at you after a session gone wrong with Elain. Your intentions were always pure. He knew this. No one was at fault as everything that transpired between you and Elain was completely consensual. But the scream that tore through Elain sent him in a heightened frenzy. He had sworn to Rhysand and Feyre, his High Lord and High Lady, that he would protect Elain. Before he could properly assess the situation, he had roughly pushed you aside with a growl. The hurt that flashed in your eyes in response haunted him nearly every night.

You began to actively avoid his gaze and presence whenever possible, and guilt gnawed at him relentlessly. Even his shadows, missing your attention, seemed angry with him. Truth be told, he was angry with himself too. You had made friends with everyone. Everyone but him.

The following two weeks became a series of futile attempts at groveling, your obliviousness to it all cutting deeper than he cared to admit. The breaking point came when you missed dinner, and he knew it was time to set things right then. So he sent his shadows to look for you and when they reported back to him that you were sleeping in the library, he brought your dinner to you.

After that moment, the atmosphere between you two shifted. He became the chaser, gradually closing the distance between you.

You looked his way more, approached him with a newfound openness, and your conversations became more frequent. You teased him at times, even, with your cryptic words. But rather than frustrating him, it only made him seek you out more. He wanted to be the one to unravel the mystery that was you.

Somewhere down the line, his eyes stopped searching for Elain's. The private moments he sought with her became mere echoes of the past—no more lingering touches, exchanged glances, or pointless conversations. Instead, it was you who occupied the center of his attention, infiltrating his dreams and igniting desires he never knew he harbored.

You eased him like no other, effortlessly coaxing smiles and laughter from him. It was in these moments that the realization struck him like a bolt of lightning—he had never truly been in love during the first two instances. What he felt for you was different. He was unwilling to let his feelings linger in the shadows, as they had done before. He yearned for them to step into the light. To be acknowledged and acted upon openly.

He decided to wait until after Solstice to confess to you and hoped that your visions wouldn't give him away.

Laughter and clinks of wine glasses ring through the air. Azriel knows it’s time to open presents, his shadows singing loudly and overwhelming him with information. Cassian is sneaking a peak. Rhysand is rolling his eyes. Elain got Lucien a present. y/n is holding back tears.

Azriel tenses at the last bit of information, eyes immediately finding you. You’re seated beside Feyre–the two of you exchanging smiles. There’s an unwrapped present on your lap and his shadows dart toward it. It’s a small portrait of the Suriel. He hears you thank Feyre and he swears he can feel your ache of grief. He moves to stand from his seat but Elain stops him.

“Happy Solstice,” she says, holding out a small present. He takes the box albeit reluctantly but politely and opens it to find two tickets to an upcoming play.

Elain smiles at the frown he’s trying to hide.

"Elain, I can't--"

“Y/n mentioned always wanting to go see a play. I thought maybe you could be the one to take her. After you confess."

His eyes search hers for any traces of hurt. He’s relieved when he finds none but the frown in his brow remains. “How–”

“She trained me well," Elain replies, eyes shining with an all knowing gleam he's seen in yours. "She deserves to be happy. You both do and something tells me that she’s the one you’ve been waiting for.”

Gods, you and Elain have been hanging out so much with one another that now she’s beginning to talk like you. There's a tightening in his chest, like a band about to snap at her words.

Azriel looks back at Elain in question but she only smiles at him once more before retreating back to where she was sitting previously. Next to Lucien, who also sends a smile his way.

Looking down at the tickets, he thinks of you again. His shadows stir, mirroring the strange sensation in his chest. It’s almost like a pull and his shadows guide him toward it, turning his head for him. Just in time to catch a glimpse of you quietly slipping away from the festivities. His steps quicken as he follows you, pulling his coat along with him.

The soft flakes of snow flutter down, a delicate dance in the winter night. Despite weeks of continuous snowfall, the enchanting beauty of it never fails to captivate you. It differs markedly from the unforgiving snowstorms you endured while wandering the Night Court's forests. Though just as cold, it prompts an involuntary shiver, a reaction to the biting chill in the air.

As the door behind you creaks open, a rush of warmth accompanies its movement. The scent of cedar invades your senses, growing more intense as you feel a fabric drape over your shoulders, bringing forth an intimate warmth.

"Hey," Azriel breathes, a visible puff of white escaping his lips.

"Hi," you smile back at him, your fingers instinctively reaching for the coat that draped over your shoulders. You can't help but notice the thin sweater he wears. "Won't you be cold, though?"

Azriel stops you, securing his coat back onto your smaller frame with a reassuring smile. “I grew up in a camp where it snowed a lot more than this. I’ll be fine.”

You look back up at the night sky. The stars are shining so bright. It makes you wonder if they ever tire. They seem to answer you as their radiant beams cast a celestial glow upon you. Your vision blurs in surrender.

“What are you seeing?” Azriel inquires, curious. He hopes it's not the confession he's aching to spill.

Your eyebrows knit together, and you close your eyes, immersing yourself in deciphering the messages woven between the stars. Upon opening your eyes, you turn to Azriel, a teasing smirk playing on your lips.

“You're going to get frostbite."

Azriel lets out an amused huff. "I don't care. As long as you're warm."

"We should head back inside," you suggest.

"No," Azriel insists, enfolding a wing around your form, anchoring you in place. His shadows can sense you don't want to go back inside yet. "I like being alone with you."

The wind nips at your cheeks, a sensation you welcome as it gives the perfect excuse for the blush creeping across your face. Tearing your gaze away from Azriel before he can discern his effect on you, you quietly share, "Nyx is going to say his first word in three days."

Azriel leans forward and you can feel his anticipation. A familial bet circulates among his uncles and aunts (save for Elain) regarding what the young heir’s first word will be. “What is it?”

“Cas.”

Azriel can't resist glancing back toward the house, his eyes narrowing with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. There, he catches a fleeting glimpse of Cassian playfully hoisting Nyx in the air, the two engaged in a lively game of chase around the living room. When he turns his attention back to you, mischief twinkles in your eyes.

“You’re lying.”

“You fell for it."

And that smile he’s been longing for since he met you graces your lips as you laugh. A sweet and beautiful sound that warms the winter air. Azriel's gaze dips toward your lips, captivated by the sound, before lifting back to meet your eyes. He leans in even closer.

“I fell for you.”

You also lean in, eyes never leaving his. "The answer is yes."

"What?"

Azriel nearly stumbles back, caught off guard, but you remain close, lifting a hand and cradling his cheek. It's surprisingly warm and he instinctively leans into your touch. His eyes widen. Did you—

“To you taking me on a date,” you reveal, your smile deepening, and he swears his shadows snicker in response. “The vision I just saw. It was of me and you at a theater. Next Friday at seven.”

“Next Friday at seven,” Azriel confirms, a tender affection lighting up his expression.

The air seems to shimmer with the promise of an enchanting future. You reach out, tugging at the bond in your chest. Once again, there is only silence. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to care anymore. Not when Azriel is gazing at you as though you are the very stars illuminating the night sky.

And then you're kissing him.

The snow crunches underfoot as Azriel moves, his usually keen senses dulled. His mind is elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of you. Even as the icy missiles fly past him, Azriel remains lost in the memories of shared glances and smiles and the way your lips felt so perfect against his last night.

For the first time in years, Azriel finds himself on the losing side of the annual snowball fight. Oddly, no disappointment lingers, even after meticulous planning for this anticipated victory. All he wants is to return home—to you.

Amidst the snowy chaos, revelation strikes him simultaneously with a snowball from Rhysand. The snap, the bond—everything falls into place. It all makes sense now. Your words when you first met. Elain’s words last night at Solstice. Why your presence thrilled and delighted him. Why he couldn't shake the feeling of love and adoration for you.

You are his mate.

The one he had been longing and pleading for, and the realization left him breathless. He shakes the snow from his face and Rhysand blinks back at him in surprise. The High Lord had been expecting a glare but he only finds pure shock on Azriel’s face.

“Oh come on, I didn’t hit you that hard,” he teases.

“I have to go.”

“If you leave, you’re forfeiting,” warns Cassian, but the glint in his eye betrays a desire for Azriel to leave, eager for a victory.

“I yield,” Azriel says mindlessly, surprising even Rhysand. Feeling his friend's talons probing his mind, Azriel throws up his shields and disappears into his shadows, abandoning the snow-covered battlefield. He'll explain later.

For now, he has to find you.

His shadows winnow him back to the River house and he doesn’t have to look for long because there you are, making your way down the last step and standing in his path. There’s not much that surprises you but that has changed since meeting Azriel and this moment is no different. Your eyes are widening, mouth parting.

“Azriel," you say. "What are you doing here? I thought you were–”

“It’s you,” Azriel interrupts breathlessly as if he was running, chest rising and falling quickly in step with the erratic beating of his heart. He’s bridging the distance between you. “All this time. It’s been you.”

You swallow thickly. “You know?”

The glimmer of hope that had ignited during Starfall returns to your eyes, revealing a world he hadn’t realized existed. How could he have been so blind?

Azriel smiles at you and it’s as if that’s the last piece to the puzzle as the bond between you both comes to life, singing loudly against your chests. He pulls you flush against him and spins you around, eliciting a delightful squeal from you. Cradling your face in his hands, he kisses your forehead, then the corners of your eyes. He saves your lips for last, lingering in the sweet taste of them for a moment longer.

“You’re my mate,” he says quietly, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Yes,” you manage to whisper back, surrendering yourself to the depths of his mesmerizing hazel eyes, just like in the vision from months ago. And it’s not you who speaks again but Azriel.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

a/n: hope you all enjoyed this (: It took me longer to write than I thought because i'm used to writing more angst for Az than fluff but I wanted this to be different. It's canon that Elain found out that reader and Az were mates through a vision around the same time she decided to give Lucien a chance. I just want them all to be happy ♡ in terms of my ABBA x ACOTAR series, I think I'll work on another one for Cas next inspired by Honey, Honey. If you'd like to be tagged, just let me know!

tagging: @hellodarling1357

if you want to read more about Az x Seer reader, I wrote a couple of bonus scenes that didn't quite make the final cut. You can read them here.

#azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #acotar imagine #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel fluff #azriel angst #azriel fanfic #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #abba x acotar

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utterlyazriel · 3 months

Text

the green emotion

someone requested jealous!azriel and i... made up a whole plot. i hope it's decent and fulfills the craving ! i'm a firm believer than he's so silly when he gets jealous <3 friends to lovers, about 4k

Azriel was not a jealous Male.

That was what he told himself. Jealousy was something that possessed the likes of Cassian or Rhys, driven to territorial acts that likened them to wild beasts. Fueled by their protectiveness, their senses dulled beyond reason.

Jealousy was a sharp whip with a taunting bite and Azriel was one of few who did not bend beneath it.

He had adopted a strength over millennia, an iron will, that prevented him from harboring such unsavory feelings. He was a stronger male than that, not so easily willed by strong ugly emotions such as jealousy.

That was what he told himself — as he tailed behind you, hanging back far enough you could not detect his presence, his shadows shrouding him.

It was reaching evening in Velaris, the last remnants of the sun's dappled light scattered across the cobblestones. You were clothed in a velvet cloak that reached down to your ankles. Its hood was drawn up, to cover your face.

If Azriel didn’t know you so well, not the weight of your steps and the lithe you carried yourself with, you may have slipped by unnoticed.

But Azriel was the Spymaster for a reason — and you were keeping secrets.

Truly, it itched and picked at him as he turned reason over and over again in his mind as he followed you. What possible reason could you have for skirting around in the dark? To slip from your friends and cloak yourself, wishing to remain unseen on the streets of your home?

It didn’t make sense to him. No thoughts of treason ever breached his mind. You wouldn’t dare, he knew that. You treasured your family as deeply as Azriel did himself, having bled and fought for your space beside them many years ago.

But as Azriel traced the path you walked, knowing you were fully in your right to go about your business however you pleased, it couldn’t be ignored. Logic kept pointing fingers in the same direction.

If he did not suspect you of withholding vital information from your court, then his quiet tailing must be fueled by something else. Something as trivial as an emotion such as…. jealousy.

Azriel bristled at the thought and his wings shook silently behind him, as if shaking off some imaginary snow.

He did not get jealous.

He was simply… ensuring the safety of his court. Which included your own safety. Even the thought made him grimace in the shadows, knowing the smack he would receive from Cassian if his brother ever heard the implication you couldn’t fend for yourself.

You most certainly could. Azriel and Cassian had both spent their fair share of hours battling against you in the fighting ring, training you up.

And it’s hardly likely that the image of you — donned in your fighting leathers, forehead beaded with sweat, chest heaving as you gripped your sword tight and grinned across the ring — was something Azriel would forget anytime soon.

Cauldron boil him if he ever had to admit aloud just how often he thought of that image.

Still, something within him kept his feet moving, footsteps as quiet as the night.

Faelight illuminated across the cobbles, the light of the rising moon, brighter in this court than any other, cast across the doorsteps of the townhouses. You had wound through the streets and ended up two streets stray from the Palace of Threads and Jewels. On a doorstep that Azriel had never seen before.

Your hood fell to your shoulders as you pushed it back gently, revealing the column of your throat and the curve of your shoulders. The faint moonlight glided across your skin, a luminous glow curling up against your collarbones. Azriel swallowed from his place in the shadows.

It was never a surprise to find you beautiful. To revere your enchanting otherworldly beauty — that Azriel was used to. And yet still, even after all these years, he had not managed to master the way it stole the breath from his lungs every time.

A familiar hunger yawned within him. He averted his eyes from you to the door.

He forced himself to take in the details, listening as his shadows whispered things his eyes could not attest. An artist's home. Damaged and rebuilt in the last battle of Velaris. The inhabitant was a Male, living alone.

Something blistered awfully inside Azriel.

Why would you visit a home such as this? Azriel could think of a few reasons that could warrant a visit so late in the evening, with your face concealed and your footsteps light. He felt his stomach turn over. Something foul burned in his gut.

The door before you opened and Azriel turned his face fast, slicing his gaze to the ground before he could see the Fae who greeted you.

Suddenly, this felt too close to an invasion of privacy. If you wished to keep your lovers a secret, as he himself did, this was a direct violation of your wishes.

That was... if this man was, indeed, your lover.

Something vulgar, something ugly reared up in his veins. Azriel clenched his fists at his sides, siphons gleaming, and willed it down.

Jealousy would not become him. Jealousy was not— did not control him.

And yet he could feel it, coursing through his blood, choking up his throat. Azriel tried to push it down, to fight against it with reason, with logic. You were promised to no Male, least of all to him. But...

But he could've sworn.

As quickly as the words appeared in his mind, Azriel stamped them down with an icy fury.

A silent curse followed them, directed at himself for his own foolishness. How many times would he walk this road before he eventually learned?

There had been no heated moments between you, no wandering eyes, no lingering hands; none that he had not imagined. None that his mind had no conjured up in its own twisted hope.

When you sought him out in the night, tormented by your own mind and how it kept you from sleep, you were seeking... a friend, Azriel realised bitterly.

There was nothing deeper to your decision to show up at his door but no one else's. Nothing was hidden in the way you chose a seat next to him at every dinner, nor the way you found a way to be beside him at the tables at Rita's.

Sitting close enough so that he could smell the alluring scent of your perfume. Could see the gleam of your bright eyes as you glanced at him after every joke, almost as if to see what might make him smile.

No. He steeled himself, shutting down every sweet moment of you he had been subconsciously collecting, holding to a greater magnitude than you clearly did.

You were not like Mor or Cassian. You did not warm the sheets of many Fae beds, slipping in and out of them without a care.

You were... alike to himself, Azriel had thought. Dedicated yourself to one.

He scowled at himself in the dark. This— this rendezvous in the dark did not dispel what he knew about you. It did not make it untrue.

It simply meant his feeble hope, that the one, the Fae you might dedicate yourself entirely was him... was just that—a hope.

It did not sway the reality of the world, the matter of truth that you crept out in the night to meet on shadowed doorsteps. Azriel felt his shadows smoking around him, spun into a frenzy at his unwelcome revelation. He snapped in his wings a little tighter.

Coming here tonight, following you, had been a mistake.

—

It seemed perfectly logical after that night for Azriel to take a step back, to rein himself in.

Not that there was not much to rein back — but the small actions reserved just for you, the unrestrained smiles, the inside jokes ribbed back at one another.

The things he had perceived as meaning more. He knew, that if he wanted to protect his heart from further ache, he should stop doing them.

But... maybe the only thing he did better than fighting, he thought grievously, was being utterly lovesick for someone who would never feel the same.

At the very least, he would hold his feelings to secrecy. It began with the smallest retractions, like weaning an addict off their favourite drug.

Azriel knew if he pulled away too quick, it would send him into a sort of withdrawal — and after all these years spent together, he wasn't sure he knew how to live with a deficit of you. Of your brazen smile and sparkling eyes.

Slow and sure. Over the next week, he willed himself to quit bothering you, to empty a space in your life so you could invite in others, those that meant more to you. So, there could be space for your new... lover.

Even the word sounded bitter in his mind.

Azriel opted for longer training in the morning. Let his sparring sessions with Cassian bleed longer and longer, not leaving the blazing hot rooftop even when Cass winds up limping inside.

He had received a halfhearted scowl from the warrior, undoubtedly for how unrelenting he had been in his fighting this week.

The time he usually sets aside for you, to read side by side in the library, to bake, to enjoy each other's company — Azriel swept it aside for you, to free up your schedule.

Noticed how you spend your free time down in Velaris. He doesn't dare tail you again.

The week crawls by slowly, stretching out thick, black tar.

Come Sunday, a day you normally reserved for spending with him, Azriel knows his extra insistence on training isn't enough of an excuse to keep you away. He trains late anyway.

True to his suspicions, it takes less than an hour for you to appear— having come to find him.

Azriel can sense you, even before his shadows murmur sweet things in his ears about the most beautiful Fae watching him through the window.

You're lingering at the door, unusually reserved. He can feel your hesitancy, even as he works his aching muscles through yet another set of exercises. His shadows stay in close, the edge of his body whispering in and out of darkness, his siphons gleaming.

You wait, watching quietly, until the sword he's wielding, a strong, broad Illyrian blade, is placed down to rest. Then, there's the soft pad of your feet as you step out into the training area. He hears you coming but he does not turn to face you.

“I've missed you this week.”

Even with his back turned, Azriel fights to keep his expression neutral, even as his eyes flutter at your admission. There's a tug on his shadows, their desire to wisp across to you proving a challenge to resist. He holds himself still, stern, and doesn't even a ruffle of his wings to indicate he's heard you.

"I—" Azriel begins. He still can't bear to turn to face you. "I'm sorry to hear that."

He can hear the noise of confusion that slips from your throat — evidently, it isn't the response you're expecting.

Azriel focuses on the sword before him, his bicep bulging as he lifts its weight and wanders to the stand of weapons. He pretends to be immersed in the decision of which to train with next, even though he's been out here for hours.

Even with his silent cold shoulder, he can still hear you behind him, your feet dragging softly across the ground in what is surely a hesitant nervous action. But still, you haven't left.

"Well, maybeee…" You continue on, voice still aiming for light and breezy, as if he hasn't been avoiding you. You're still trying.

Azriel's chest tightens up with a familiar ache, one that always lingers around you. Since seeing you that night, on another Male's doorstep, its sting has become particularly cruel. Jealousy has a cold bite.

"If you’re nearly done... I mean, if your somewhat obsessive workout regime is finally complete..."

You're winding on, taking jabs that would normally make him smile. You'd take a gentle rolling of his eyes at this point. Azriel turns to you, his face remaining passive.

"I was wondering if you wanted to come sit with me in the library," You say, voice suddenly softer now that he's facing you. "If you’re not too busy, that is.”

Azriel steels himself, eyes cutting to the ground as he forces himself to not wilt beneath your hopeful gaze. He knew it would be hard to pull himself away from you but this? This is nearing torture.

He clears his throat. “I am.”

He turns and begins to peel off the layers of Illyrian leathers from his torso, remaining diligent at keeping himself from caving to you. He can feel the ugly emotion rolling just beneath the surface, a gruesome green monster that threatens his usual composure.

Behind him, he hears your soft, saddened oh. His wings give a tiny shiver at it, even as he continues the methodical process of unwinding after training.

Piece by piece, his armor comes off, until even his shirt has been shed. His skin glistens under the shine of the afternoon sun, the muscles beneath rippling and sore from exertion.

There's a moment of silence and Azriel keeps his head bowed as he gathers himself, prepared to bathe the sweat and grime off himself. It wasn't a complete lie he had told.

Perhaps, he thinks wistfully, he could wash some of his unjust jealousy away with it. Being so unwound by his feelings is taking its toll on him, considering how unused to it he is. He waits, ears keenly listening for the sign of your departure.

After a minute of quietness, he can only assume you've slipped away silently. He sighs, half in relief and half in his sorrow.

"What are you busy doing?"

Your voice pipes up and Azriel glances behind him, surprised that you haven't left after all. His wings tuck in a little tighter.

"y/n." He murmurs your name and it comes out almost as a plea. Now, faced with you pulling apart his loose lie, Azriel finds he doesn't have it within him to lie to your face. "Please."

You don't say anything.

Azriel's shadows dance around him, agitated and frenzied, and he wills them to calm— though, that had always been an impossible request in your presence. He takes a sharp inhale and walks towards the door, leaving you behind on the rooftop.

He gets halfway down the hallway, heading for his room before your voice calls out again.

"Busy avoiding me?"

You've followed him from the training ring and now you stand at the end of the hallway, your arms crossed firmly across your chest. Your face is contorted into a hard expression, a furrow between your brows.

Azriel sighs and turns back to you. He hadn't been able to keep his secret from Mor — why, oh why did he think that he would have any more luck when it came to you?

You— enigmatic, wonderful you. Maybe, all Azriel hopes to do today is to delay the inevitable rejection for a different day. An easier day.

A day where he isn't feeling so easily undone by his the enormity of his envy. Envious of what he can't have but so desperately desires.

As he turns to face you, it's impossible to miss the way your eyes dart down to his bare chest. You stare for a moment too long and it looks like it takes an effort to drag your eyes up. You swallow heavily, the bob of your throat unmissable. Even from afar, Azriel swears there's a glow to your cheeks.

No. No, he wasn't doing that to himself anymore! He wouldn't— he couldn't be having those thoughts about you anymore. You had a lover for Mother's sake.

"I'm not—"

"Oh my Gods, don't even try to say you're not avoiding me." You interrupt him sharply. You begin to stamp your way down the hallway, eyes narrowed, your annoyance clear to see.

A door in the hallway opens. Distracted by something over his shoulder, Cassian takes a blundering loud step out into the hallway before he freezes.

He spots you first, eyes widening and wings bunching up at your obvious fury. His head turns, finding Azriel down the other end of the hallway.

"Oh... Mother, this is happening now, huh? I'm just gonna— uh, get food later." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, quickly turning and disappearing back into his room. His door closes with a quiet snip.

In the moment of distraction, you don't notice how Azriel has moved away stealthily— his shadows aiding his quiet getaway. He's not entirely sure what his plan is; he doubts he can avoid this argument by simply shutting himself in his room. Turns out, he's selfish enough to be willing to try.

Sure enough, it takes another moment before his wings twitch, his shadows reporting on your incoming footsteps moments before he hears them himself.

He busies himself with digging through his drawers and sends a silent request to the House, praying it might keep the door locked against you.

He can do this— he can swallow down his burning heart and keep your friendship he values so dearly, he swears he can. Just not today.

He hears the door open.

Glancing up, he narrows his eyes at the House and calls it a foul word in his mind. The Faelights of his room seem to twinkle mischievously in response.

"Az," You breathe softly.

His name sounds unbearably tender coming from your lips. His wings give a little rustle, curling closer around himself.

Despite his lack of reply, you aren't deterred. He can hear your footsteps, gentle and not at all like your prior furious stomps down the hallway, as they wind around his bed.

Chest stirring with an old ache, he keeps himself facing away. He slips a shirt on and prays you give him one more day to rein in his treacherous heart. One more day. He just can't do it today.

"Did I... Did I do something?"

Your voice is suddenly a lot smaller.

Azriel softens instantly at the sound of it, feeling his resolve begin to crumble. He crushes his eyes closed and thinks of what he had seen down in Velaris — forces himself to imagine you with another Male, in his arms, in his bed.

But even if his jealousy is so terribly unwarranted, he cannot bring himself to lie to you.

"No," The word grates out his throat roughly.

Because it's the truth. You hadn't done anything wrong and— and Azriel refused to hurt you just because he couldn't contain a few rampant feelings.

"Really?" The tinge of annoyance is back in your words and Azriel can't even blame you.

"Because then why it is that you have been avoiding me since— since the day I was-"

You cut your own words off and Azriel fills in the blank on his own. Since the day down in the city—where I saw you entering another Male's home, hidden in your cloak, like you were meeting a lover— and even though you're completely allowed to do that, I am like every other gods forsaken jealous Male in Prythian, getting upset over this, even if you are not truly mine.

He turns to you finally, his hands clenched at his side and he wills the next sentence out.

"What or who you choose to spend your free time with—" He inhales a long breath, forcing his face to remain neutral even as he feels his teeth grit together. "—is none of my concern."

Your face scrunches up, confused. Then the furrow between your eyebrows is back and Azriel feels a tad nervous. You aren't often angry, least of all with him.

"Cauldron boil me," You bury your face into your hands for a second. Then you drag them down languidly with a groan, peeking up at him over your hands.

"Did you follow me?"

Azriel feels a bit off-guard. His voice isn't as sure when he says, "It is my duty to survey my court."

You bristle a little at that and the nervousness within him grows a little bigger.

"'Who I choose to spend my time with?'" You repeat his words back to him with a tone of incredulity, your hands motioning wildly before you. Faintly, Azriel begins to sense the feeling of foolishness rising within him.

"For Mother's sake, Az, I was buying you a birthday gift, not sleeping with him!"

The moment the words burst from your lips, two things happen. Azriel stiffens, the true nature of your stealthy endeavor through Velaris making a fool of him indeed.

You were... cloaked and hidden because you had been planning a surprise. For him. For his birthday. Something he hadn't even considered was around the corner as it held no high merit with him. His eyes widen and his lips part an inch.

And you — you straighten up, eyes wide, looking as though you've been struck by lightning.

"You were jealous." You gasp.

Not a question, a statement.

"No," Azriel denies, without thinking. His heart rabbits in his chest. The irony of acting out the way he did, because jealousy had blinded him in the first place, is not lost on him.

Suddenly, all his envy is washed away, replaced quickly by a bumbling foolish embarrassment. He wishes he could winnow out of the House. He considers the window behind him for a moment, if only to spare himself from revealing his true feelings to you.

One glance back at your face, your expression edging towards crestfallen, and any thoughts of running away vanishes.

"Yes." He quickly amends, voice meek.

His wings give a little shudder, twisting in closer as he realises what he's admitted aloud. How there was no coming back from this.

No one had ever made him as loose-tongued as you do. Azriel is embarrassed to be caught stumbling over his words.

"I realise..." He croaks out, suddenly finding the slats of the floorboards immensely more interesting. His shadows have slowed from their nervous frenzy, making lazy motions instead, as if to soothe him. "That may not be ideal. My feelings, that is."

A beat of silence. Azriel studies a spot on the floor intently. His heart flounders wildly behind his ribs. His embarrassment seeps something closer to mortification.

Your shoes peek into the edge of his vision and Azriel's head shifts up slowly, his hazel eyes finding yours and burning into them.

His shadows whisper a thousand things to him — but all of them are dulled, quietened, as he simply stares at you. Feels something between the pair of you hang in the balance, just a breeze from unraveling.

Your eyes are bright. Acutely, he realises he can smell relief rolling off you in heavy waves. Amongst it, too, is a hint of... happiness. Happiness.

“Oh, you big Illyrian baby,” You coo, a teasing lilt to your tone.

His cheeks grow warm. Something white-hot tips down his spine as you step in closer, swaying into his space. He can smell the alluring scent of you and his heart thrums in his chest at your nearness, aching to be closer.

"Some spymaster you are, huh?" You say, voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel stays silent but his head tilts to the side just an inch in his puzzlement, his eyebrows knitting together. Hazel eyes peer at you with such an intensity that it sends goosebumps crawling across your skin— his eyes searching your face for answers to his thousand questions.

"Knowing everything except for this." You continue, words feather-soft.

You don’t say what this is but Azriel thinks he knows. Hopes he knows. His hands at his sides clench tighter, his fingers curled up into fists, and the motion catches your attention.

Moving so slowly, you reach out and gingerly take his wrist between your delicate fingers. Azriel lets you. A whine crawls up in the back of his throat and his swallows it back down.

He watches closely as you pull his hand up, forward, cradling it with your own two. His fingers twitch, so unfamiliar with such tender touches.

The shadows scouring around his shoulders burst into a frenzy, circling down his arms and twirling around your intertwined hands. It's as though they're... dancing, Azriel thinks.

"I... hoped." He admits quietly, his voice full of longing.

You shift his mottled hand, turning it gently so his palm is facing yours. Then you hold your own up against it, like you're comparing hand sizes.

Azriel can barely tear his eyes off where your hand presses into his to look up at you. Something molten hot begins to scorch through his veins. A realisation. A dream that may be finally answered. It feels like pure starlight.

Your hand is dwarfed against his own scarred one — and when Azriel curls his fingers, they hug the top of yours gently. You press back against his hand, like the smallest hug back.

You murmur back. "You don't need hope."

Your gaze skirts up from your joined hands, your lips twitching into a nervous smile.

Your eyebrows have drawn together in the middle, just a bit, as though what's happening is something you find devastatingly beautiful. As though you think that way about him. About the two of you, together.

Azriel finds himself thinking of all he would give in the world —all the mountains he'd move and dragons he'd slay— for you to keep looking at him that way.

"You already have me."

#i'm so on the fence on whether i like this one ! >.<#but i do think he would be sooooo foolish once he got jealous #esp if u were nearly a thing but not quite #and i do think he wouldn't have a kiss. just a handhold #when u two finally come together :")#azriel x you #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger x you #acotar

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honeybeefae · 11 months

Text

Imagine…

(FULL FIC HERE!)

You had been sent to sift through the Shadowsinger’s room in the Court of Nightmares. It wasn’t that you wanted to, you were actually terrified of him. No, you were here under threat of torture from your own family.

They were desperate to find some dirt, some stain, about Rhysand and his group to use against them. It was a foolish, stupid plan that you were extremely against but your opinion did not matter to them. The only thing that did was how quiet you could move around and be near undetectable.

Keir was in kahoots with the whole plan and had even given you a pathway to get to the secluded area. Of course he would reap some of the benefits of whatever you were able to find, no good deed goes without a greedy hand to snatch half of it.

You had been promised that the Shadowsinger would be gone when you arrived, busy with torture or maiming or whatever it is the illusive man did in his spare time. Rhysand and Feyre were busy with Keir in the great hall and seeing as you were as memorable as a vase in a far corner, this plan should be foolproof.

So why were your palms sweating and heart racing as if you were running against the clock of your own death?

“Come on, come on.” You whispered to yourself, trying your best to be quick and neat. The last thing you wanted was for him to suspect someone had been here. “Something. Anything. Please.”

But there was nothing of substance. The drawers were full of clothes and sheaths. The desk in the corner was bare bones. It was almost eerie how clean this room was.

You had been in here for far too long and with one final look around, you decided to throw in the towel. There was nothing here for you to expose. Surely your family would understand, right? They couldn’t kill you.

Just as you were walking across the room to the door, a loud slam reverberated around you. It suddenly got a few degrees warmer and you were so terrified that you felt like about to wet yourself.

Steam rolled past, fogging up the mirror slightly that was in front of you. It took everything in your power not to scream as you made eye contact with a very wet and shirtless Illyrian.

His wings were slightly open, water droplets hitting the floor as a white towel hung loosely over his hips. You couldn’t stop your gaze from flicking downwards at his stomach, briefly admiring his beauty before moving back up to his face.

Immediately you were drawn into the mysterious air around him, your eyes captivated with the shadows that were curling around his shoulders and neck. The tattoos that marked his skin were an inky black that paired well with his tan skin.

You tensed when a small smirk graced his face, his head tilting to the side as he studied you.

“Can I help you, little mouse?”

#ACOTAR imagine #acotar #azriel x reader smut #azriel x you #azriel imagine #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel smut #azriel shadowsinger #azriel reader #azriel fic

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drinkingcoffee-inthedark · 1 year

Text

Unrequited

Part 4

Warning(s): Implied smut, mild angst, so much drama, so little proofreading

Pairing(s): Azriel x Reader, Lucien x Reader

Word Count: 2448

You and Azriel both let out quiet curses at the knock at the door. Neither of you were ready for any of your family members to find out the extent of your relationship. It was never supposed to be anything except for letting off steam; the equivalent of a sparring match. It wasn’t ever supposed to mean anything. But you both knew they would never let you hear the end of it. Five Centuries after Mor and Cassian slept together, it’s still a topic of conversation, albeit infrequently. In all the time spent as a family, there was nothing that was kept secret; nothing that you could have to yourself. Except for this. This was meant just for you and Azriel to share.

At least, that was your excuse. People knowing, especially your family, would make this all too much. All too real. And you weren’t ready to face that. Not yet. You’ve barely confronted your own feelings- not even wanting to admit it out loud to anyone, but even yourself. You’d already let it slip to Lucien, but you knew you could trust him. He barely communicated with the Inner Circle- only speaking to Rhys and Feyre. And even then, conversations with the High Lord were strictly professional.

If any of your loved ones found out the extent of the relationship you shared with Azriel- and the extent of what you truly feel for the Shadowsinger, it would all come crumbling down.

You’d suspected that Azriel had some sort of feelings for Mor still, and the crush he had on Elain was painfully obvious. You were sure he would have pursued her when she broke the mating bond with Lucien, but he kept his distance. Part of you was afraid that he’s just waiting on a polite way to end your arrangement. That’s part of the reason you struck up your entanglement with Lucien. You were nearly positive that if you did receive the announcement of Elain and Azriel being in a relationship, it would have destroyed you.

At a second knock at the door, Azriel quietly pulled himself out of bed and redressed quickly. You did the same and sprayed on copious amounts of perfume to mask his scent.

“Sorry,” he said softly, pressing kiss to your forehead, before being swallowed up by his shadows, winnowing away.

Another knock sounded and you rolled your eyes, shuffling to the door and swinging it open.

Nesta eyed you suspiciously, eyebrow quirked.

“Why did you skip training?”

You shrugged, “I told you. I had to buy a dress.” You hoped it was convincing, but Nesta was always too observant.

She rolled her eyes, “I thought it was the insufferable scent of the mating bond.”

You laughed, “I don’t mind being around you and Cassian!”

Her eyebrows knitted together, confusion evident in her gray eyes, “Not us. I meant Gwyn and Azriel.”

You recoiled as if she slapped you, “What?” Your voice was jagged against the ringing in your ears. “Nesta. What are you talking about?”

Her eyes softened. She wasn’t expecting your reaction. Not at all. You hid your feelings so well. Until now.

“(Y/N), I though you knew. I thought everyone did. Except for Gwyn. Azriel told Cassian a few months ago.” She reached out, like she wanted to comfort you, but she dropped her hand. She wasn’t sure how to react to your display of emotion.

You shook your head, “N-no.” The blood was rushing in your head, and you were dizzy. Your voice sounded tinny, far away, like it belong to someone else. You swallowed hard, trying to act normal. “Well. That’s good then. Good for them.” You managed a tight smile, despite the sudden cold that tingled down your body, making your fingers go numb.

“Yeah.” Nesta said, not sounding genuine in any way. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, “Yes.” You said, too quickly. “But I have somewhere to be. We’ll talk later,” You promised her, before all but closing the door in her face before immediately winnowing away, the room suddenly suffocating you.

You lost your footing on the landing and hit the ground with a thud, right in the middle of Lucien’s living room. The redhead glanced up at you over the top of the book he was reading, sitting with his legs crossed on his couch.

“Really? Ever heard of knocking on the door? I could’ve been naked!” His playfully indignant tone would’ve made you laugh any other day. You would’ve snarked back at him that you’ve already seen him naked before, but your words got stuck in your throat.

At your silence, he looked up at you, finally taking in your appearance. You sat on the floor, legs bent at the knees, leaning back on your hands, and breathing heavily. Your hair was a mess, and tears lined your eyes.

“(Y/N)?” His voice was soft as he discarded his book in the seat next to him on the couch, and he stood, facing you. “What happened.” His tone was fierce, protective.

You swallowed thickly again, willing the tears not to fall. You had no right to them. Azriel was a no-strings-attached hook up. You were not his, and he was not yours. You felt so stupid. So naive.

You let yourself get attached and now you were shattered on Lucien’s floor. Maybe you came here without thinking because you knew he would try to fix it.

He gently helped you off the ground, and you settled into his plush couch. You stared at your hand, folded neatly in your lap. The illusion in composure. Lucien stepped away into the kitchen, before emerging shortly after and pushing a cup of tea into your hands. You didn’t even look up at him, but you still took it gratefully. You didn’t want tea. Didn’t want anything except to go back in time and fix what you brought upon yourself.

You cleared your throat, “They’re mates.” You said it softly, he barely heard you.

“Who is?” He asked, sitting down next to you.

“Azriel…and Gwyn.” You wanted to hate the Priestess. You wished you could tear into every flaw; rip her apart. But you couldn’t. You liked Gwyn. She was kind, and brave, and good. Better than you. It wasn’t her fault that she was his mate and you weren’t.

“Oh. I’m-” Lucien stopped himself from saying he was sorry. He knew that wasn’t why you were there. He knew that wasn’t what you wanted.

He put his hand in your knee, warm and comforting.

“Are they…together?”

You shook your head, “No. Gwyn doesn’t know. But Azriel….” Your initial despair had worn off, and you were angry.

“Azriel knew.” Lucien concluded for you.

You gritted your teeth, “He knew he had a mate. The whole time! We’ve been sleeping together for six months! And he didn’t have the decency to tell me! Or to stop and be with his mate!”

“Have you talked to him about it?” Lucien, ever the emissary, the peacekeeper, the mediator, asked. Too rational.

Your head whipped in his direction, and you stared at him, incredulous.

“Of course not! I don’t want to see him ever again.”

Lucien had to stop his lip from quirking up in a smirk.

“You sound like a child. You can’t avoid him forever.”

You jumped to your feet and slammed your teacup down in the coffee table.

“Yes I can. And I will.”

Lucien set his cup down gently and sighed, standing to face you. He took your hands in his.

“Why did you come here, (Y/N)?”

You refused to meet his eyes.

“I… I just thought you could make me feel better.”

He sighed and pulled you into a hug, his strong arms around your shoulders. Immediately, you wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face in his chest. You took a deep breath, taking in Lucien’s scent. Spiced cinnamon and crisp leaves. Despite not living in the Autumn Court for centuries, he still carried the scent of Autumn.

His hands carded through your hair, and the kindness he showed you made your heart sputter in your chest. Your anger at the situation died out, and then you were sobbing. He pulled you closer and let you cry into his chest, tears and snot wetting his shirt, but he didn’t pull away from you. He whispered soothing words into your hair, and let you let everything out that you’d been holding in.

Lucien held you and let you cry until the tears dried up, and you were exhausted. You pulled your head back slightly, away from his chest, and cringed at the soaked material.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

“Don’t be.”

You gave a half smile, appreciating his kindness. You may not have been in love with the red headed male, but he was a great friend.

You cleared your throat softly, “He doesn’t like that I come here and see you,” You told him, “We argued about it today.”

Lucien looked at your cautiously, “What did he say?”

You scoffed.

“He said that I ‘failed this court’ because I slept with you. Because you came from Spring.”

Lucien rolled his eyes.

“Does the Shadowsinger forget that you are also from a Court other than Night?”

You hesitated for a moment.

“I…think maybe he’s jealous.” You bit your lip.

“Why’s that?”

“Well, he asked if…” You couldn’t stop the blush from creeping up your neck. “If I let you cum inside me.”

Lucien threw his head back and roared with laughter, making you chuckle and roll your eyes.

“That male,” Lucien said between bouts of laughter, “Is definitely jealous.”

“You think so? But his mate-” Lucien’s face grew serious.

“I think you should speak with Azriel, (Y/N). Not Nesta, not Rhysand, and -as much as I enjoy out conversations- not me.”

You say back down on the couch and groaned.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to do that. Not yet. I can’t admit-”

Lucien joined you on the couch and took your hand in his.

“(Y/N), what’s a worse fate? Being rejected and knowing where you stand? Or dragging this out? Having sex with someone you love, and not knowing if they love you too? Either option is going to hurt. At least with one, you’d be able to heal. Besides, Azriel may feel the same way about you.”

“But he’s mated,” you pointed out.

“And so was I.”

Touché, Lucien Vanserra.

“I don’t want to hurt Gwyn.”

“How many excuses are you going to make?”

You shot him a halfhearted glare.

“Whether it’s you, Azriel, or Gwyn,” He said, “someone is going to get hurt.”

You pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes, feeling a headache rapidly coming along.

“Things would be a lot simpler if I fell in love with you instead.” You told him.

You felt Lucien tense next you, and glanced at him, and unknown emotion dancing in his russet eye.

He cleared his throat and stood up, gesturing for you to do the same.

“You look exhausted. We should get some sleep.” His voice was soft but seemed strained.

You nodded and followed him into his bedroom.

Sleep eluded you for much of the night, but regardless, the next morning, you said a quick goodbye to Lucien, before heading out to meet Madja at the clinic. You were positive you would get an earful from Nesta for missing another day of training. You didn’t know how you missed the mating bond between Gwyn and Azriel, but that just about guaranteed that you would be training alone from now on.

Madja greeted you warmly when you entered the clinic, and you smiled at her. Madja was a kind, motherly woman, but she took her job seriously. She was no-nonsense when it came to healing. You first met her during the war, and despite being angry with Azriel, you were grateful for the opportunity to learn from Madja.

“Good morning!” You returned her greeting brightly.

“How are you doing, (Y/N)?”

You smiled, hoping it seemed genuine, “I’m doing well. How are you?”

“Wonderful, dear! I’m happy you decided to join me.”

You suppressed the urge to tell her you didn’t have a choice in the matter, and you nodded politely at her.

Madja launched right into her task of the day- potions. You were always better at using your own magic to heal; however, it was less of a strain in your own body if you’re able to cure using a potion. You didn’t have too much experience in the matter, so it took you a few tries to get the hang of it.

One mixture that you created by mistake had Madja laughing.

“That’s not quite a remedy for a headache, dear,” she told you, “You created a love potion.”

You quirked a brow at her.

“I thought those were just myths?”

“They’re very real. And very banned here in the Night Court,” She told you, taking the pink mixture from your hands and pouring it down the drain.

You couldn’t help the sigh that left your lips.

“It’s been too long since I’ve practiced with potions.”

Madja nodded, understanding. “The Dawn Court doesn’t use them much, do they?”

“Sometimes. Most prefer to just heal with our own magic. Right from the source.”

“More effective.” Madja concluded, looking at you over the rim of the beaker she was tinkering with.

“Harder to manage. Harder to recover,” You countered, “That’s why I want to get better with the potions.”

She hummed, “Understandable. Especially knowing the amount of healing that Azriel and Cassian typically need.”

Her tone was lighthearted, but you both knew just how much of themselves the Illyrians gave to protecting the Night Court. The sacrifices they have made; the sacrifices they were willing to make. Madja had plenty of experience tending to the wounds of the Illyrian Warriors.

“I haven’t seen much of Azriel lately.” She spoke. “Not with you around. You must be caring for him well.”

You shot her a quizzical look.

“I mean, I guess. I’ve only had to heal minor injuries. Nothing too serious.”

“Maybe externally. It’s the internal healing that makes the difference.” Her eyes twinkled with something between mischief and understanding.

You turned away, avoiding her eyes.

“I don’t know what you mean.” You lied.

She laughed, “(Y/N), it’s not my place to say, but the two of you really are clueless.”

You didn’t think that your feelings for Azriel were that obvious. But if Madja knew… There was a chance that everyone else did too.

Everyone but Azriel

You were starting to think that maybe Lucien was right.

You needed to talk to Azriel.

•

Tag list:

@lahoete @percyjacksonspeen @inpraizeof @honestlywtfisgoingon @azzydaddy @positivewitch @thesillyyogourt @cmay25

*strikethrough = tumblr won’t let tag

#acotar #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel x female!reader #azriel reader #azriel / reader #lucien/reader #lucien x reader #lucienxreader #lucien vanserra #lucien spell cleaver

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illyrianbitch · 19 days

Text

An Education in Malice

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, rough, angry, hate sex basically. sexual degradation (name calling), p in v penetration, sex in da woods, bickering and insults, inner circle slander

Word Count: 6.6k

a/n: i know technically we wouldnt be a princess... but we r a high lord family so were running with it for the sexual tension. also dedicated to my soulmate and the brilliant babe, @itsswritten who told me to write sumthin smutty like this. thank her 🫡

Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

“Hello, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched at the sound.

He’d almost forgotten how grating your voice was to his ears, how it made his body tense with an emotion he could never quite describe. He turned around slowly, taking you in where you stood leaning casually against a tree.

The dress you wore was reminiscent of autumn court elegance, fabric cascading around you in rich hues of crimson, gold, and amber, like the vibrant foliage of the season brought to life, sleeves like flickering flames. There was a sense of wrongness in seeing such an elegant form amidst the wild, your commanding presence even more striking than that of your other family members. If he didn't know who you were, he would have been tempted to describe you as something of unparalleled beauty, a vision amidst a forest of wilderness.

But Azriel knew who you were. He knew what you were.

He had noticed the similarities between you and your brothers quickly, from your mannerisms down to the curve of your lips. You and Eris shared the same snarky smirk– a smirk Az wanted to wipe clean off your faces. You were using it now, holding his gaze with the corners of your lips upturned and amused eyes.

“You look thrilled to see me,” you said.

Az did nothing to hide his disdain as he narrowed his eyes at you. “Where is your brother?”

“Busy,” you responded, absentmindedly running the tips of your fingers along the tree you leaned on. You took a moment to observe the bark before you turned to face Azriel again, a small taunting smile on your lips once more. “I’ll let him know you missed him.”

Azriel held your gaze for a moment, a tick in his jaw as he let out a short exhale. Then, he was turning around to leave, a clear dismissal. A small flicker of anger rose in your body. Quickly, you winnowed in front of him, your sudden appearance setting his shadows into a frenzied dance around him, coalescing into a swirling mass around his neck like a collar of live snakes ready to strike.

“Don’t be rude,” you said, “I’m here on Eris’ behalf. Give me information to report back to him.”

“Nothing to report,” Azriel said, voice flat. He stared at you for a moment, eyes scanning you. And then he was making another notion to leave, brushing past you with a small shove to your shoulder. You nearly laughed at the action, at how easy he was becoming to rile up— at how much your presence bothered him.

“You don’t want to stay and chat?” You said over your shoulder. A flutter of triumph spread in your chest when you heard his footsteps come to a halt. You turned to face him, his back still to you, shadows swirling around his body like black flames. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other.”

Azriel turned to face you, a small scowl on his beautiful features. “Not long enough.”

You laughed, the sound stroking his body in a way that sent shivers down his spine. You let out a sigh.

“I get bored in Autumn sometimes, you know?”

Briefly, something flickered in Azriel’s hazel eyes, but it faded faster than you could decipher what it meant or where it came from. He titled his head slightly, eyes taking you in fully.

“Not enough cruelty for you?”

“Something like that.”

You both held each other's stares, his icy gaze against your fiery one. He lifted his chin slightly, rolling his shoulders as if to straighten his already stiff posture. You didn’t miss the way his wings extended slightly from their tucked in position, just enough to stand as a warning, as a reminder of who he was— what he was.

“This is a waste of my time.”

Yet, Azriel made no move to leave— not this time.

“Because you have such important matters to return to?” You asked with a raised brow, “You said it yourself, nothing to report. So, are there some damsels in distress to be saved? Something to make you feel important?”

You made sure to pay extra attention to when you mocked his previous words, tone dropping slightly deeper to imitate his. Azriel’s eyes narrowed even more, a dark wave of evident anger washing through his face, nostrils flared, jaw clenched. You bit the inside of your cheek to contain your grin.

You were playing with something dangerous, this you knew. But Azriel was so fun to rile up, so easy to. You understood, now, why your brother seemed to enjoy these meetings so much. You’d assumed Eris was some sort of masochist, somehow finding pleasure in the necessity of being allies with the Night Court, the same people who so commonly disregarded you and your family as evil and cruel— although, they were right to a certain extent. But perhaps Eris had found some sort of entertainment with this affair.

“Stop talking,” was Azriel’s only reply.

“Why?”

He took a step forward. You made sure to stay still, to hold his gaze as he peered down at you.

“Because you’re trying to get a rise out of me,” Azriel responded, his voice cool, “and it will not work.”

“Oh please,” you scoffed. “Play the unphased act all you’d like, we both know its bullshit.”

He said nothing in response, his eyes remaining locked on yours. Azriel’s stare was harder now, colder. A clear warning was written in his features, carved out between his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes: do not fuck with me.

But you welcomed the challenge. If he wasn’t going to admit it, you were more than willing to prove your point.

“You put my brother in a chokehold in a public meeting. You have no self-control. You’re just constantly one spark away from igniting.”

Azriel growled. “Your brother deserved it.”

You raised your brow in a small taunt.

“Because he called your precious Morrigan a slut?”

Whether Azriel wanted to admit it or not, you were very easily tearing at his resolve. He moved quickly, his hand naturally falling to the dagger at his hip. Shadows moved closer to you, but with a swift movement of your fingers, they were met with the spark of a small flame, quickly retracting back into their mass form near Azriel’s shoulders. You winnowed back to your original place, back against the rough tree bark.

“Careful, Shadowsinger,” you sneered, “You’re forgetting your manners.You didn’t even let me finish.”

Azriel wore a clear scowl now, brows furrowed as he held your gaze from afar, hand still on his weapon. There was something deadly about the way you made him feel, the intensity of those feelings far surpassing any hatred he held for your brothers– Eris, specifically. In truth, the more time Az spent near Lucien, the more he saw him as someone good– and the less similarities he seemed to bear with you, his conniving snake of a sister. You opened your mouth to taunt him once more.

“I don’t agree with my brother,” you said, “Hell, I admire Morrigan for her freedom. I do love a pretty dress. So, I would have called her something else… a liar, perhaps?”

Those words were all it took to light Azriel’s fuse.

Within a blink, he was in front of you, the cold steel of a dagger, Truth-Teller you presumed, pressed against your neck. His wings flared out angrily behind him. Shadows surged around you, a suffocating darkness descending like a shroud, swallowing the sunlight and leaving only a void of darkness. You stared into Azriel's eyes— cold, and angry.

"Shut up," he snarled.

For a moment, a sense of fear flickered deep in your stomach, but you swallowed it down, the flame diminishing before it could properly ignite. Even as his shadows threatened to consume you both whole, you refused to back down, meeting Azriel's gaze with a defiant stare of your own. And then, you grinned. A cruel, wicked gesture that made his blood boil.

“Nice to see you perform without an audience, too.”

Azriel's voice was laden with disdain as he responded, words dripping with venom. "You and your brother are exactly the same."

But instead of flinching at the accusation, you maintained your smirk, unfazed by the blade pressed against your neck. "Which brother? I have quite a few," you countered, your tone teasing, almost playful.

Azriel's grip tightened, images of your family conjuring in his mind. Az could barely remember the names of your other brothers, their features blurring into a blurry mess of fiery auburn and copper. Instead, his mind focused on you– the female before him, under his grip and his dagger, standing next to the two males he despised for different reasons.

“You can decide,” Azriel finally said, “they’re all equally terrible.”

“I’d say Lucien is a good male,” you laughed bitterly, “I’m willing to bet your sweet Elain would agree.”

A surge of fury rose within him, a deep primal instinct to lash out and silence your taunts once and for all. But even as he bristled with anger, he realized you were right.

He was constantly teetering on the edge, one step away from losing control. It had gotten worse recently, watching everyone around him find their place, their people; Elain growing closer to Lucien, his brothers spending time with their mates. Azriel was frustrated. He was angry. You’d done exactly what he told you wouldn’t happen– gotten a rise out of him. He hated it, hated you, hated himself even more.

Azriel took a deep breath, your heated gaze still on him, eyes narrowed, a small smirk on your lips that he filled him with a burning anger. It wasn’t as if he could kill you, no, he couldn’t even really hurt you. One mark on the Vanserra’s youngest and only daughter would be a mark for war. This was a battle Az couldn't win, indulging your provocations for the mere sake of your entertainment. He needed to calm down. Regain control.

The shadows around you began to recede and sunlight filtered back into the clearing as Azriel pushed you away with a snarl. You leaned your head back against the tree as you took a deep breath.

He studied you for a moment before saying, "You'd think someone as pretentious as you wouldn't need to rely on irritating someone for an ounce of attention."

There was a subtle shift in your demeanor—a swallowed response, a flicker of vulnerability. His gaze followed the movement down to the column of your throat.

“Pretentious?”

You gave a bitter laugh.

"Yes, pretentious. All of you Vanserras," Azriel retorted with a bitter edge, “Every single one.”

"That's ironic coming from you. You think we're pretentious?"

Azriel's gaze hardened. "Yes. Cruel, evil, and vile. You think you're better than all of us."

Your mouth widened as you scoffed. And then you let out a laugh of disbelief.

"Oh my Gods, does it ever get tiring?" you retorted, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Wallowing in your own self-pity and then using it as a means to hate everyone outside of your incestuous little circle?"

"Do not speak of my family," Azriel snapped.

You smirked. “So you admit your family is incestuous?”

Azriel said nothing, a sudden realization that his anger, once again, had beat him to his rationality, somehow giving you another weapon to use against him. He clenched his jaw, feeling a simmering heat building in his stomach.

"You stand in front of me and pretend to be shocked when I call you for what you are?" he countered with a sneer, “Your family isn't quiet about their disdain for my family, for my kind, or for me."

You lifted your chin. “You don’t even like your own kind, Shadowsinger.”

There was another flare of his nostrils and you knew that you’d gotten him once again. Azriel’s fists clenched at his sides, a sight lost to you as his shadows covered them. You continued as he stayed silent.

“I will admit, my family can be a bit narrow minded. Why would I hate you for the things you can’t control? Where's the fun in that?”

Again, Azriel remained silent. He knew if he made a move, if he said a word, it would likely be something he regretted, something that would come back to bite him in the ass.

"I don’t hate you because you’re from the Night Court, or an Illyrian, or a bastard, or whatever it is you tell yourself at night," you continued, your words like a dagger aimed at his pride. "I hate you because you are hot-headed and arrogant. You’ve held a grudge against Eris for something that wasn’t his fault and have utterly screwed Lucien to no end. Your little family is a disease.”

Azriel’s resolve was cracking. He didn’t have enough self-control for this, for you. He’d barely mustered up the diplomacy needed to meet with Eris.

“Stop talking,” he said through gritted teeth. He felt it again, the flicker of frustration that threatened to engulf him like an unattended flame.

You gave him a withering glare. “Or what, you’ll make me?”

Azriel blinked, his eyes scanning your body instinctively. There was something about the words you spoke, the way you had spoken them, that made his body shiver. A small jolt of electricity passed through his muscles. Unfortunately for him, you caught it as quick as it manifested. Your eyes widened as you let out a dry laugh, forming a small smirk on your lips.

“Oh my gods,” you said, taking a step closer, “I bet you’d like that, wouldn't you? Is that why you’re such an ass today?

Azriel’s wings twitched behind him. You gave him a mocking pout as you stared up at him.

“No one to torture, no sweet female to make love to? Poor, powerful, Spymaster.”

Azriel thought for a moment. He thought about the anger boiling in his body, how on edge he’d been, how every little thing had been setting him off. He thought about you, in front of him, a female he despised from previous meetings– loud-mouthed, vicious, and selfish. A female from a family he hated, a family that took things from his family, from him.

And then he began thinking of how great it would feel to show them how wrong they were about him. To prove to them that they weren’t better than him, that he was just as, if not more, powerful than their damned bloodline.

You had been right again. He was pent up. He hadn’t taken a lover recently, hadn’t fucked anyone since that one almost-night with Elain– where she’d been sweet, sensitive, and gentle. But even before, with the females who’d asked for it rough, told him they could handle it, he hadn’t indulged himself too far. He still respected them. They were still wide-eyed and kind, sweet to a certain extent. He didn’t want to hurt them. They were ladies. Azriel respected ladies.

“I said stop talking,” Azriel growled.

There was a tick in his jaw.

“And I said, make me.”

But you, you weren’t a lady. You weren’t sensitive, sweet, or kind. You were a viper. A snake with beautiful lips and a body he found incredibly inviting— not that he’d ever admit it to anyone. But standing in front of him, that defiant look in your eyes, the pride seeping off you, the smirk on your lips… Azriel felt hungry. He felt ravenous.

So, he thought for one more moment. And then he was taking a step forward, one that you matched with an equal stepback.

“Y/n,” Azriel drawled as he continued to take another step. You matched him again, moving back while you glared at him. “Are you not getting enough attention? Is that it?”

Your back hit the tree and you let out a small exhale as Azriel took a final step forward, inches away from you as he stared down with a dark gaze.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You bit out.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

You attempted to regulate your breathing as his eyes drank you in, a clear and unashamed desire painted over his face.

“Do I look like a fucking mind-reader?”

Azriel gave a dry chuckle. You were unraveling before him, scrambling for control. “Such a vile mouth for a princess.”

“Fuck you.”

“Is that why you came?” He brought a hand to your chin, roughly tilting your face up to look directly at him. “Do you want to be fucked, Y/n?”

The answer was yes, you did. There was a sickening sense of excitement that ran through your blood, a heat pooling between your thighs. But you wouldn’t admit it. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction, weren’t about to prove him right. So instead you stayed quiet, pulling your face out of his hands and turning your cheek.

“I came for intel,” you said through gritted teeth, “in Eris’ place.”

Azriel gave another chuckle, something dark and humorous. His hand trailed to the side of your neck, pushing the hair off your shoulders to expose the line of your collarbone. You swallowed.

“Interesting,” he said. He leaned in, lips against your ear. “Then what is that desire I smell?”

You let out a sharp exhale as he leaned away. Taking a deep breath, you looked at him, biting the inside of your cheek at your body's betrayal. You needed to balance this.

“Maybe its you that needs a good fuck, Shadowsinger. Like I said, you seem real pent up. Noone quite scratching that itch?”

But Azriel no longer seemed angry at your words, instead, he seemed amused– hungry. He was quiet for a second too long, simply staring at you. A sense of irritation prickled at your skin.

“What?” You snapped.

“I can admit that,” Azriel said coolly, “if you can admit something to me.”

“What, are we trading secrets now? I wasn’t aware this was a children's sleepover.”

Azriel didn’t respond. You registered the movement of a dark shadow as it fled from his body, slowly sneaking around your collarbone. You attempted to hit it away, but it quickly slithered back to Azriel, running up his chest to curl around his ear. He smirked.

“When was the last time someone fucked you, Y/n?”

The air left your lungs as you let out a small gasp. You blinked. Quickly, you regained your composure.

“Excuse me?”

Azriel kept his smirk. “It must be hard getting anyone to touch you when you’re so sheltered by those males you call brothers.”

He reached out a hand to your bare collarbone, but you caught his wrist in your hand, allowing it to hover in your grip. His eyes slowly trailed up to your face, heavy-lidded and darkened with a sense of attention that made your stomach clench.

“What the hell are you getting at?” You sneered.

Azriel simply stared at you, the ghost of a smirk still plastered on his lips. His reactions had you gritting your teeth in anger and rubbing your thighs in anticipation at the same time— you hated it.

“Don’t ask questions you know the answers to.”

“You're pathetic,” you spat, “Save your games for a bitch who cares.”

But you still gripped his hand in yours, still felt the heat radiating off his skin. And you made no motion to move. No motion to let him pull back. Azriel didn’t fail to notice this, either.

“That snarky mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble. But I bet that's why you use it, right?”

Your breathing was heavier now. Azriel’s gaze flickered to where you still gripped his wrist.

“You can fool everyone, Y/n,” he said, “But not me.”

You shouldn’t have enjoyed the way his voice sounded on your skin, shouldn’t have felt a breathlessness filling your body as he spoke to you. But you felt it. And it was a burning, hungry desire that made your chest tighten. This was what you wanted, it was what you needed.

Azriel was right. The bastard had read you like a book. Your family, your brothers, never let anyone near you for fear of embarrassment– fear of you bringing some sense of shame. But Azriel was right. You wanted it. You craved it. You wanted to forget who you were, to give up the control you always had to wield.

Before you could overthink it, you loosened your grip on Azriel’s hand and pulled it towards you, situating it on the side of your throat. You let out a small gasp when he quickly wrapped his fingers around the base of your neck.

And then he was pulling you into him with a deep and angry kiss. All teeth, tongue, and fire, mouths crashing together almost painfully, but neither of you stopped. With every movement of his mouth, of his tongue on yours, a dormant flame deep within you awoke.

A primal desire surged through Azriel’s veins like wildfire, the scent of you– of your want, of your desire– filling his senses in a way that had his cock throbbing. There was no room for rational thought, only the raw, unbridled passion that engulfed him in a fiery embrace. His hand found its way into your hair, fingers brushing along your scalp as he yanked your hair to expose your neck to him. His lips wandered to your exposed collarbone, giving a harsh suck to the skin near the column of your throat.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Shut up,” you responded, reaching your hands out to fumble with his leather clothes. Azriel pulled back slightly, grabbing your wandering hands in his. You let out a sound of protest as he ran sloppy kissing along your neck.

“Oh how i’d love to fuck that foul mouth of yours,” Azriel murmured against your skin, his mouth reaching your ear. “But we’re short on time.” He took your lobe in between his teeth and you let out a small groan.

“I bet all you’ll need is a few minutes– and that's being generous.”

Azriel’s hand gripped at your waist, traveling up your chest to roughly grab your breast through your dress.

“No wonder you’re so insufferable.” he said, his voice amused as he pulled back, his other hand tugged at your hair once more. “You haven’t been fucked properly.”

You snarled. "Fuck you."

Azriel grinned.

"Oh, princess, I will.”

And then he was pulling the front of your dress down, exposing your bare breasts before him, nipples peaked in the fresh air. You let out a gasp as a small faint ripping sound traveled to your ears. Before you had a chance to react, Azriel was spinning you around, pulling your back against his chest, one hand bracketing your throat as the other traveled down your stomach, grabbing at the fabric at your dress.

"But first, you're going to beg me for it,” he breathed into your ear, his voice so low you felt it more than you heard it. His words traveled straight to your core, leaving you dripping with want. Yet, you refused to let the words leave your lips. You gritted your teeth, bristled at the suggestion— pride and defiance warring within you.

“Like hell I will.”

Azriel made a sound of disapproval, his mouth still running along your ear, “No?” he asked, hand slowly trailing from your throat to your chest, his fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake. “So you don’t want me to touch you?”

His hand fell over your breast, cupping it in his palm as his thumb brushed over your nipple. You watched as black tendrils of shadow danced around his forearm, meeting where his fingers tweaked your nipple. Their cool gentle touch sent a ripple of sensation through you and your head fell back against him as you let out a small whimper.

“Stop being a fucking tease.”

Azriel found that he loved the way you whimpered, loved the tinge of frustration in your voice as he touched you. Here you were, melting into his touch, attempting to avoid admitting in words what your body was showing in actions.

“I asked you to do something.”

He rolled your nipple between his fingers. You let out a deep exhale, pushing yourself back onto him, grinding into the evident bulge that pressed against you, the thin material of your dress doing nothing to disguise his hardened length.

“Just fuck me already,” you turned your head to catch his gaze, darkened and pupils blown with lust. “I know you want to.”

You covered his hand in yours, molding his hand into your touch, urging him to grab your breast again– harder, firmer.

The corners of his lips quirked up. “That doesn’t matter. Beg for it.”

Agonizingly slow, his hands roamed your trembling form, lighting flames of desire that you almost feared would consume you whole. Second by second, you felt yourself losing control. The heat of his touch seared through you, eroding the last crumbs of your resistance until all that remained was a burning need to be filled by him, to succumb to the primal urges coursing through your veins. You wanted him. You needed him.

“Please,” you whispered, the truth spilling from your lips in a voice so meek you barely recognized it as your own.

"Please what?"

With a trembling breath, you finally let go of the last shreds of your resistance, your voice coming out in a deep, frustrated plea. “Please fuck me.”

Azriel's lips curved into a predatory smirk.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice low and sultry as he pulled away from you. In one movement he was pulling your ass closer to him, forcing your body forward to brace yourself on the tree. In seconds you felt the cool air on your body as Azriel pushed your dress above your hips. Naturally, you felt your body bowing at the sensation. He let out a groan at the sight.

Then he was spreading your legs, baring you before him, glistening cunt on full display. His rough hands gripped your bare ass. He massaged it for a moment, but the motion was brief, and soon you felt a hard hand land on the fat of your cheek. You let out a small shriek, but it was followed by a low moan as he delivered another smack. Azriel smirked at the sound of it, at the sight of your ass reddening with his handprint.

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” You managed to grit out as you pushed your ass out further, “I’m growing bored.”

“Bored?” He ran finger through the wetness that pooled at your core. “Your cunt doesn’t seem to think so.”

You moaned at the feeling, pushing yourself back against his hand.

“Too stubborn to admit anything,” Azriel murmured, “But your body gives you away.”

Azriel took a step back, your body cold at the loss of contact as he freed himself from the confine of his leather pants, each movement filled with a primal urgency that would’ve made him unsettled— embarrassed even— if he had been in a more rational state of mind. But Azriel wasn’t being rational. All he could think about was you, and staring at your beautiful glistening cunt, all he wanted was to fuck you into oblivion, to let his frustrations out. To tame you like a wild animal— his most tantalizing challenge yet.

He settled himself behind you and stroked his cock along your folds, allowing it to glide against your core until both of you were slick with your desire. He teased you slowly as he moved up and down your entrance. You pushed against him, urging him inside, inviting him to take you.

Azriel only laughed darkly at the movements, and you whined in response, frustrated and irritated.

“Remember this the next time you insult me,” he said, “Remember how you were begging for me to fuck you.”

Half a breath later, he pushed himself inside you, sheathing himself to the hilt. You exhaled in tandem, your cunt clenching him, pulsing around the stretch of him. He adjusted his angle and picked up the pace, sending pleasure rising in a wave that you couldn’t hold back, your mouth falling open as he began to take you harder.

You let your forehead fall against your hands, braced against the rough texture of the tree. You faintly felt the ridges under your palm, but there was no pain, no irritation that you knew you were bound to experience later. All you could truly feel was Azriel deep inside you, stretching you out and using you in a way you hadn’t experienced for a very long time. The lust Azriel felt, the experience of being with you, of claiming you as his, was no longer a desire, no longer a want. It was a need. An animalistic and primal need that he felt deep in his chest.

Azriel's movements were relentless, each thrust sending ripples of pleasure rippling through your body, clouding your mind in a haze of ecstasy and melting away all coherent thought. There were sounds emitted from your lips, this you knew, but they were incoherent whimpers, quiet murmurs whispered towards the ground as your forehead dug into your hands with every buck of Azriel’s hips.

“You had so much to say earlier, Y/n,” Azriel said, pulling out until he was barely inside you. He thrusted back in, resuming a hard and brutal pace.

“Why so quiet now?”

Thrust.

“Did you just need the attitude fucked out of you?”

Thrust.

"What will your brothers think?” he taunted, his grip on your hips bruising in its intensity, “Your father?”

Thrust.

“If only your family only knew what their precious princess was up to. Taking it from the likes of me, like some common pleasure hall whore."

The mention of your family sent a surge of burning shame coursing through your veins, you felt the heat rise to your cheeks, flushing against your exposed skin. But amidst the suffocating shame, there was something else, something primal and insatiable that stirred within you—a hunger born of defiance, of indulging in a forbidden ecstasy. It filled you with a sense of exhilaration that bordered on madness.

Quickly, that spark of defiance ignited within you, mingling with the fiery hunger coursing through your veins, an urge to bite back at him. You craned your head to look over your shoulder, catching his eyes as you let out a moan, taking your lips in between your teeth.

"Do common whores get you this riled up?" you purred. There was a feigned innocence in your tone that made Azriel twitch inside you. His gaze burned into yours. "Do they make you this hungry?”

A part of you wanted the confirmation, wanted the triumphant feeling of knowing you could ruin him for everyone else— that you felt better than the females he had bedded, that you, the one he loathed so openly, were the only one to truly quench his thirst.

“Do they feel as good as me, Azriel?”

He let out a deep, guttural moan. The sound traveled through your body, lighting your skin on fire as you bucked back into his movements, meeting every roll of his hips.

“Say that again,” Azriel groaned.

When you gave no reply, he twisted your hair around one fist and gave it a tug, pulling your body up to him as before. His thrusts never staggered, not even as his hand traveled to wrap around your throat, matching the reddening print from his earlier grip. The other hand remained steady at your hip, gripping into the fabric of your dress and the exposed skin of your body.

“Say my name,” he growled and your cunt tightened at the sound, at the way he gripped your throat harder. You grasped at his arm with your hands, holding on to his skin as he bucked into you.

“No.”

Azriel growled, pulling out of you almost completely before he pushed back in a heavy, angry stroke. Your body arched in pleasure, a small whimper leaving your mouth instinctively.

“Don’t be a brat.”

“Fuck you.”

“I am,” Azriel said, “And your cunt is swallowing me whole, princess. Like it's made for me, like its been begging to be fucked.”

He released his grip from your throat, letting you fall forward as he placed his hand on the small of your back, arching your body for him as he pounded into you from behind. You fell forward, hands planted on the tree before you, fingers clawing at the bark like an animal in heat. Azriel watched as his cock disappeared into your cunt with every thrust, watched how your ass bounced back on him with every movement, how your tits moved with every roll of his hips. He fought not to finish from the sight alone.

You struggled to find your voice through the haze of pleasure that clouded your mind, that seemed to twist and tie your tongue to where you could only gasp incoherent words of ecstasy

“Oh, fuck. Azriel.”

Azriel drank in your sounds of pleasure like a male thirsted for centuries, the sound of his name on your tongue sending a wave of pleasure through his body.

“Are you going to cum, Y/n?”

You let yourself surrender to his touch as he continued to ravage you with ruthless abandon, his voice caressing you in ways you never knew a sound could do. You wanted him to go faster, harder, rougher; wanted him to fuck you with all his might, with all that anger you saw. As if he could read your mind, Azriel’s thrusts sped up, slamming into you.

“Fuuck, yeah, you are. I can feel this pretty little cunt clenching me.”

He continued his pace, fucking you with long thorough strokes that left you completely pinned between him and the rough bark of the tree. You felt him heavy against your back, breasts pressed against his hand as he moved between gripping them both roughly, holding onto them for leverage as he fucked you from behind.

"Look at you," he taunted, his grip tightening around you possessively. "So desperate, so needy. You're nothing but a pretty little slut, begging for release, aren’t you?"

Azriel continued, moving deeper and faster, pumping into you with snaps of his hips that had you writhing underneath him.

"And yet," you managed between breaths, gasps leaving your lips as he drove into you. "You’re the one pounding into me like a brute who can't get enough.”

With a low groan, Azriel's hand tightened around your breast, his grip possessive as he leaned in to bite at your shoulder with a hungry intensity. He was beginning to think that you’d surely be the death of him, that he had created something, some beast inside him, that refused to be satiated by anything other than you— and that was dangerous. But he didn’t think too much about it, not now, not as he felt your cunt massaging him from the inside, felt your walls clamping onto him in a way that set his body on fire, his cock throbbing.

Azriel railed you over and over, nothing slow or gentle about his movements. And with every thrust, you whined in ecstasy. His grip on your hips tightened, holding you in place as he kept pounding into you. He fell forward, grinding against you, pushing you further into the rough bark of the tree.

You could feel it, a deep pressure building in your stomach as his cock stretched you in the most delicious way. And you could feel him too, hot against your back, his deep breaths and the groans that reverberated through his body. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in your ears, muffling out the sound of your moans as your whole body tensed.

Then you felt it, a cool trail snaking up your legs. Dark tendrils of Azriel's shadows slithered through your thighs, caressing your skin with a tantalizing touch that made you clench at the sensation. You gasped as they coiled around your clit, winding you up with a feeling you’d never experienced before. With a loud moan, your orgasm rolled through you in a violent convulsion, white spots dancing at the edges of your vision.

Azriel hated to think it, hated to admit that the sound of you coming undone on his cock was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever heard, that feeling your cunt clench around him as the sound filled his ear was enough for him to unravel. With a choked moan, Azriel spilled into you, spurts of his seed coating your walls. You let out a final, breathy whine at the sensation of him spilling into you, feeling as it began to drip as Azriel slowly pulled out.

With a heavy breath, his gaze lingered on the glistening trail connecting the tip of cock to your cunt. The lust in his eyes faintly faded, and a moment of clarity washed over him as the reality of what he’d just done hit like a sudden, cold wave. He didn’t regret it, no, not at all. This was exactly the release Azriel had needed. In fact, a part of him nearly grinned at the realization, at the relief he now felt in his body. But the other part of him, the rational side afraid of disappointing his family, of fucking something up, awoke in a panic. What the fuck had he just done? And why was he so proud of it?

You slowly stood up, straightening yourself out as you turned to face him, face flushed and hair a tangled mess. There was a ghost of a smirk playing on your lips as you took them between your teeth and bit down. Your breasts were still exposed, nipples peaked and reddened marks from his rough grip. Azriel's eyes traveled down your form, swallowing hard as he took in the sight before him. He could smell the desire that filled the air around you both, could smell himself on you— the image of him plunging in and out of you still fresh in his mind.

The idea of it alone made his cock stir again. There was something intoxicating about this situation to him. The image of you returning home, covered in his marks, in his scent, in his seed. Eris smelling him on you, realizing that you’d not only fucked someone he despised, but sullied yourself with an illyrian– just as he’d told Mor. And you, you’d remember this. You’d remember him inside you, remember how you let him use you, fuck you like a common-court whore. And you’d have to live with that. Every insult you’d give him, everytime you sneered at him in the future, there would be a part of you that remembered falling apart on his cock as you begged him for more, for him to fuck you harder.

With a gentle flick of your fingers, your dress was perfectly restored, the fabric falling gracefully around your figure as your hair cascaded down your shoulders in silky, untouched, waves. You smoothed out the sleeves of your dress with a practiced gesture before turning your gaze back to Azriel, scanning him from head to toe. Your eyes lingered on his still-exposed cock, covered in the mixed fluids of your cunt and his seed. A smirk played at the corner of your lips as Azriel looked down, realization flickering in his eyes as he hastily pulled up his pants, stuffing himself back into them.

"Well, this was fun," you remarked casually– almost bored. Azriel resisted the urge to frown at the words, at the tone you used. "Catch you later, Shadowsinger."

Before he could respond, you were gone, leaving him standing alone in the forest, staring at the empty space before a tree.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Part Two

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria

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cinnamoodles · 28 days

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smut is great but do you know what’s better? heart wrenching, soul twisting angst that makes you want to cry (take my money)

#spencer reid x reader #jason todd x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #kaz brekker x reader #kageyama x reader #cedric diggory x reader #daryl dixon x reader #dick grayson x reader #din djarin x reader #steve harrington x reader #azriel x reader #john price x reader #jake seresin x reader #charles leclerc x reader #chris evans x reader #homelander x reader

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redheadspark · 5 months

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Miss

Summary - Azriel missed you on his latest mission, and he shows you how much he has missed you

Warnings - SMUT SMUT SMUT! This is a SMUT one piece, NO MINORS FROM HERE ON OUT!

A/N - I am no SMUT writer, apologies in advance!

You were right at the peak, beyond close to tipping over and having that euphoria of pleasure consume you once again for the fifth time that night. But then again, you were wishing not to let go just yet, this was the right amount of pleasure that was now wrapping around your bones and consuming you from the inside out. All thanks to the Illyrian Spymaster above you who was taking his sweet time fucking you.

This was his game: the game of Azriel the Shadowsinger of Night Court.

All you could breathe was Azriel, all you could feel was Azriel, and all you could ever experience was Azriel. There was no doubt that this was the best kind of drug that you could ever consume and need in your face life, even after 300 hundred years together as mates. Azriel snuck into your life, someone you never saw coming when you were introduced by Mor. There was no instant explosion of lust, nor was it bone dry and unfeeling. It felt like you were slipping into a warm bath, your muscles unwinding instantly and a sigh of relief on your lips as you two shook hands for the first time. Although you were friends at first, you both knew deep down that you were going to be connected in some way.

It only took a few years after meeting and building your friendship to feel the bond take place. From there on out, it was game over.

Azriel never stopped his hips, his toned muscles along his backside were working on overdrive as he was having over you while fucking you with such precision laced with intimacy and devotion, it was almost tooth aching. But this was how Azriel worked when you two were in the throws of pleasure, going in right for the kill at the very beginning and then taking his time later on. His patience in giving you pleasure could not be measured by any other, though you were not one to complain at all. If he could, he could keep you on edge for hours on end and still have the drive to make you come undone within seconds.

Azriel was good at this game, and you would let him win every time.

"Oh fuck, my love," He growled against your cheek as his hips were still rolling. Your legs were parted easily, sore for being spread for some time but now the feeling now a dull ache. Just feeling his toned muscles and body against your own was enough for you to forget your thighs that were shaking. His arms braced your head as your arms clung to his shoulders, feeling a bit of his wings as they were tucked against his back. He kissed your cheek a few times as you were holding on for dear life, hearing him murmur, "I don't think I can ever stop,"

"Fuck…fuck don't stop," You moaned and pleaded as he gave a few hard thrusts, having your eyes roll back as his smile against your jaw was evident.

"I won't ever leave you that long ever again," He swore, engraining it in your skin as you bit your lower lip and moved one of your hands to run into his sweaty locks, "It was too….fuck…too long away from you, from being able to touch you like this…"

As if on cue, he moved one of his hands from being near your head to rubbing your clit, having you moan loudly and curl into him as the pleasure was now heightened to the tenth degree. You were putty in his hands, and Azriel smirked from feeling you shake once his thumb rubbed your clit slowly and deliberately.

You both knew you needed this night together, Azriel being away for almost an entire month thanks to Rhysand and his need for Azriel and his Spymaster ability. Rhysand was on a tour of sorts to the other Courts, his own way of keeping peace with the other High Lords and going over the treaties that were signed. Rhsyand was more than willing to go on his own, not letting High Lady Feyre come nor their own Nyx. Feyre was running Night Court without him and Nyx was too young. If left him having both Cassian and Azriel come along with him, Cassian talking to other army commanders in other courts, and Azrile being a second pair of eyes and ears in those meetings.

You were left alone from your mate for that long month, keeping busy and helping your High Lady. But you weren't going to lie and say you didn't miss your mate, his company with you, your talks together, and most of all, the intimacy with him. There was no doubt you two had a healthy sex life, a very healthy one at that. The jokes from Rhysand and Cassian about Azriel and his high energy in bed were always evident when you and Azriel just got together, though you never let it affect you.

But you knew those rumors were true when you and Azriel first slept together.

"Azriel…Az please.." You mewled as his thumb was still rubbing your clit and his hips were still going at a constant cadence that was both filthy and yet touching at the same time. Azriel knew how to fuck and he fucked well, no matter how many times you two were together like this, he made your heart soar and your moans sound lethal. This night was no different, Azriel starting off the night instantly as you two made it back to your penthouse home in the city. Azriel left his hesitance at the door, perching you on the edge of the kitchen island as he sank to his knees and dived in between your legs within seconds. Shaking and moaning with no shame, you felt yourself cumming within two minutes of him licking into your pussy with just his tongue alone. Watching your orgasm and your shake on the counter drew more desire from him, his chin still glistening from your release as he then licked his own fingers to have a second round with you.

Another four minutes, you came from his fingers. Azriel was only warming up.

"Please what, my love?" He asked as he watched your eyes dilated and your lips parted in pleasure as he was still pounding into you slowly and with deep precision, "There is no way I can be done with you when you look and feel like this, beyond words," He lightly bit your jawline as you huffed and bit your lower lip, "I can't get enough of you, ever. Nothing else has ever come close in my love, and I don't want anything else,"

You moaned, both from his words and how on edge you were. He nuzzled into your cheek for a brief moment, breathing in your scent that was mixed with sex as he leaned back to be sitting on his legs. Seeing you sprawled on your satin sheets, a gift from Rhysand on your wedding day, blissed out in pleasure with your hair plastered to your neck and cheeks and your eyes wide in love, Azriel thought you were heavenly. His cock was still nestled deep inside of you, your pussy aching both in intense pleasure and lust as he drank in the sight of you. He wanted this picture for the rest of his days, Inca se he had to go away again and think of you deep in the night for him to have something to come back to.

This night alone was memorable, fucking you against the shower wall as the water went cold against his back, then taking you from behind on the bathroom floor moments after turning off the water in the shower. Which led to you two tangled on your bed, you riding him with a new core of desire in your belly. But this, being pinned under Azriel as he was relentlessly fucking you into the mattress, was beyond words and made you feel like you were floating out of your body.

Azriel was a pro at this.

"Cauldron, you're breathtaking," He hummed in lust as he was watching you while still perched over you, his cock rock hard inside your pussy as you lazily grinned. You were still on edge, but that ache was nothing new for you in how he would draw this out for as long as he could to make your orgasm mind-numbingly amazing. You reached up with one spare hand, Azriel then leaning down to have you cradle his face with your palm. But your fingers were near his lips, you tracing his Lowe lips to feel how plump they were and you moaned.

"Gods you're divine," You moaned as his hazel eyes drilled into your own. Without breaking eye contact, he opened his mouth to let two of your fingers slip into his mouth lustfully. His tongue along your digits, with the wicked grin on his face, was enough to make you scream as his hips were moving again. It was such a site, Azriel fucking you deeply and with new pent-up energy as he was sucking your fingers made you teeter on edge all over again. You were so close, the feeling there along your spine and under your eyes as you were now babbling at him, knowing it was a turn-on for him to hear you moan and whimper his name.

"Fuck me…please fuck me….make me cum….make me cum. Now, Az. Now….I wanna cum…" You were repeating it like a mantra as he was drilling his hips again and again. Nothing else was in your head, only the love you had for Azriel and how much he cherished you in his life. He placed you first in all his choices and decisions as a Spymaster, choosing the less threatening missions and fights just to keep himself safe to come home to him. How he loved you with both his words and his actions whenever he could. Azriel felt as if you two being mates was fate for him, meant to be, and nothing would change that for him in his mind. Not even the Cauldron itself would take you away from him.

And watching you orgasm, howling in pure pleasure and euphoria was enough for Azriel to also fall over the edge. He felt himself empty inside of you, the sense of love and relief all over his body as his wings shot out in the moment of him summing. The release, the new layer of love that was unleashed with the both of you, made Azriel almost float to the sky if he could.

He would choose you over anything, over anyone, in this lifetime or beyond.

Finally feeling boneless, he collapsed on top of you and held you close, still deep inside of you but not wishing to lose that connection anytime soon. Holding you close, he breathed you in as your fingers were tracing his arms with the tips of your fingers. Azriel held you like a jewel, delicately and with possession at the same time, while his lips were pecking along your neck and shoulder. No matter how many times you two would fuck, there was still the foundation of you two loving each other.

Loving each other through the highs of your life and the lows. Through the tragedies and the joy. Azriel loved you with everything in him, you grinning against his head as you finally found your voice.

"If you intended on giving me the best sleep, then you have done well, my love," You said against his forehead. Ariel laughed, the vibration of his laughter was against your neck as he held you a pinch tighter.

"You bring this side of me out in the best way," He cooed, then moved his head up to be eye to eye with you as your gaze on him lingered with affection. He paused, looking you over and feeling the sensation of peace between the two of you. Even in the tossed sheets and deep in the night, you both were back to the solid foundation of your love together.

"I've missed you so," He whispered to you, making your heart flutter as he nuzzled your nose with his.

"Not as much as I missed you," You hummed back, ruffling his hair as he leaned in to kiss you.

The End

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