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obliviouscxnt · 3 months

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His Shadow Azriel x Reader

a/n: quick little idea/drabble i had (that could honestly get turned into another series) idk if this has been done before, if it has let me know please, I'll probably delete this. I hope you enjoy :)) <333

synopsis: azriel takes you for granted

Warnings: angst

pt.2

He thought it was poetic, the way the shadows disappeared around Mor. She brightened up his life, literally.

Never did he think he’d find someone else capable of doing such a thing. Until he met Elaine.

The change was gradual, so gradual he hadn’t even noticed.

They stayed with him, at first, treating the once-human girl like any other person. But then she was turned fae, and Azriel’s visits with her began. With each visit, less, and less, shadows joined him.

He was completely unaware, she stole his focus.

He felt protective of her, like a precious flower he had to keep from wilting. That protectiveness slowly became something more, a yearning. Even more so when Cassian discovered he was mated to the eldest Acheron.

Though the night Elaine kissed him, everything changed.

They’d sat outside, in her garden, and even though the sky was already dark they’d stayed. Getting lost in conversation. She told him about things she cared about, and he listened. She asked him about himself, and he answered.

At some point she ended up in front of him, gazing up at his lips.

She looked so beautiful, illuminated by the stars, surrounded by her lovely garden. A sight he felt lucky to witness.

When she leaned forward he couldn’t stop himself. He met her halfway, so softly, so gently. But as soon as his lips touched hers, all those feelings for her died. He felt nothing.

The switch in emotions almost gave him whiplash. It was dizzying.

Underwhelming didn’t feel like the best word for it, but it was the only thing he could come up with. Nothing was exciting about the kiss, nothing revolutionary. It wasn’t like it felt wrong, but it didn’t feel right either.

Disappointment was what Azriel felt. A little part of him was hoping that maybe the Acheron sister would be his mate.

It seemed fitting, right? Three brothers, three sisters. But now that her lips were against his, he knew it wasn’t right.

The spymaster pulls back, taking a step away. Looking at the beautiful woman. Any feelings beyond protectiveness had vanished from his body. Not even a tickle of butterflies when she smiled at him, so obviously delighted with the kiss they shared.

It wasn’t her fault, any male would be lucky to have Elaine. But it was clear to him, that male couldn’t be him.

“It’s getting late, we should head in.” Her face drops at his words, he doesn’t even look at her as he begins leading her inside and back to her room.

He should say more, apologize, and tell her how he feels so she at least has a reason. Not just silence. But his brain was still reeling from the drastic change in emotions—or lack thereof. No words leave his mouth.

He walks Elaine up to her room. Bidding her a short goodnight before leaving the frowning woman to her own devices.

He kicked himself for hurting her, for allowing it to get that far. Elaine was just so tempting, and he was so hopeful. He kicked himself for that too.

Of course he wouldn’t have a mate.

He couldn't even give the poor woman an apology.

It wasn’t until he made it to his room, all the way up in the House of Wind, that he realized no shadows were with him. Not even a whisper reached his ears.

They’d been with him as long as he could remember, and now they were just gone.

He couldn’t place the feeling they left in their absence. But he knew he didn’t like it.

*****

You knew it was unfair of you to be jealous. He didn’t know how deep your devotion ran. He didn’t see life the way you had, you didn’t even think he saw you as anything other than a servant.

It wasn’t unfair of you to feel sad about that.

You’re nothing but shadows to him. When he’s always been everything to you. From the moment he first called to you, when you were barely a flicker of darkness.

But he would never see that.

Azriel is sound asleep when you slip through the cracks of his door and into his room.

He hadn’t even called to you. Did he even care you were gone?

You find yourself taking form, a form of something he could relate to. A beautiful woman, someone like Elaine, or Mor. But you knew you looked nothing like them. Your darkness couldn't captivate beauty like that. Bold and enchanting, like the Morrigan. Pure and innocent, like Miss Elaine.

A sigh leaves your mouth as you curl up in your designated corner, looking at the hands that felt alien to you. Even if you showed him this form, saw him face to face, would he see you any differently?

You doubt it. You’d always be shadows to him.

You were so busy wallowing to yourself in the corner you didn’t see the shadowsinger stir at your sigh. Didn’t see him blink awake, or sit up and look around.

But you felt it when his eyes settled on you for what felt like the first time. Heard the gasp that left his mouth.

Your heart stops, frozen in fear for half a second, before it starts again, and you collapse into clouds of darkness.

*****

It was the middle of the night when Azriel woke Rhys up, shouting at him from outside his mental barriers. The worry in his voice was what had the High Lord jumping out of his mate's arms, waking Cassian, and heading to the abode carved into the top of the mountain.

Azriel paces around the office room, running a hand through his hair. If he wasn’t so stressed he would’ve noticed that his shadows don’t try to comfort him like usual.

“What’s going on?” Rhys asks as he and Cassian walk into the room. Both are in different states of undress with looks of concern on each of their faces.

Cassian immediately notes Azriel’s distressed state, a rare sight considering the spymaster had long ago mastered staying calm and stoic in the face of trouble.

Cassian almost doesn't want to know what has the male so bothered.

“There was something in my room.”

“What?!” The reactions are simultaneous. Any sign of sleep was immediately gone from both of their faces.

“I think it was a woman… I don’t know I didn’t get a good enough look. It disappeared right after I woke up.” His fingers grip his hair. Heart still beating fast from the interaction. No one has ever snuck up on him like that.

He's usually the one doing the sneaking.

His shadows, which had returned sometime after he’d fallen asleep, hadn’t even noticed the stranger, if they had they certainly didn’t warn him. He tries not to feel the nerves that fact struck in him.

“What do you mean, ‘disappeared’?” Cassian asks.

“Exactly what it sounds like, Cass. One second it was sitting in the corner of my room, the next it was gone.” Which made absolutely no sense, the wards surrounding House of Wind forbid winnowing of any kind.

This was obviously a serious issue, the wards could either be faulty or someone could have found a way around them.

“Are you sure you it wasn’t just a vivid dream?” Cassian asks, just trying to come with any better explanation.

“Was your encounter with Bryaxis just a vivid dream?” Azriel snaps. There was no way he imagined it. No way.

Rhys diffuses, stepping in with hands raised in surrender. Silently telling Azriel that they were on his side. “What did it look like when it disappeared? Did it look like it was winnowing?”

The spymaster thinks about it. No. No, it didn’t.

It was like its body blended with the darkness. Became the darkness. Almost like… Azriel’s eyes widen.

A shadow.

“What? What is it, Az?” Rhys asks, probably noticing the revelation he was having from the look on his face.

The shadowsinger's face becomes neutral, as calm as a person with his features was capable of looking. He shakes his head. “Maybe it was nothing. Sorry for waking you guys up. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Then he left without another word.

Rhys and Cassian share a look. A mix of bewilderment, concern, and exhaustion filled their features.

Azriel waits till he reaches his room to say anything, making sure to close the door behind him before a single word can leave his mouth. “Are you jealous? Is that it? Is that why you always leave around Elaine and Mor? Why you thought it would be fun to scare me and my family? Because I don't give you enough attention?”

His shadows scatter, detaching from his body, hiding under his bed and in the darker nooks of his room.

“Don’t hide now. I know it was you, that’s why you didn’t warn me.” He gazes into the dark corners of his room, glaring. How could they keep something like this from him? Hide the fact that they could take form? “Show yourself.”

There was an eerie pause, Azriel’s heart began beating faster. Then the fae lights started to flicker.

With each flash more and more shadows gathered before him. Building on each other. The lights went out completely.

When he turned them back on you stood before him.

The most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.

Pure darkness rose from your body, looking like black smoke. It encapsulates you, different from the way it encapsulates him. The darkness wasn't an extension of your body, it was a part of you, was you, moved with you like it was just another limb.

“My intention was not to scare.” You spoke in a whisper he’d heard many times. A whisper that was most loyal to him. That fulfilled his every beck and call.

Azriel was at a loss for words. You were stunning, a word he'd not known the true meaning of until he laid eyes on you.

“For years, centuries, I’ve followed you. I chose you as my singer. I answered your call.” Tears fill your eyes, but when they fall they dissipate into smoke. Blowing away with a wave of your hand. “I have shown you nothing but loyalty, and care. I’ve sat back while watching you love others and I’ve made peace with it, I’ve accepted our differences.” You suck in a deep breath and steady yourself. “But when I leave, you don’t care, don't even notice.” Your lips tremble, voice breaking as you ask him a question he couldn’t even think to answer. “After everything I’ve done, how can I mean so little to you?”

Azriel’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. He has so much to say but his vocal cords are tied. He did care, though it was clear he hadn’t shown it enough. He found himself thinking about all the little times the shadows had been there for him, comforting him, caring for him. And now he could put a face to those moments, it wasn’t just shadows, it was you that’d been there for him over the years.

“So yes, I was sad and mad, and maybe a little jealous... But I wasn’t trying to scare you. I was just- I don’t know! Imagining? Yearning for a life I can’t have?”

The fae lights began blinking again making his heart jump with every flicker. He doesn't want you to disappear yet. He opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it.

“You don’t have to say anything, I don’t want an apology.” You lift a shadowy hand, wiping your face and steeling yourself. “Don’t fret, shadowsinger, I’m still your faithful servant. I couldn’t refuse your calls even if I wanted to. And I’m okay with that, it’s what I chose. Just don’t expect me to be there for you in moments where you can't even acknowledge my existence.”

The lights flicker again and you're gone.

Leaving Azriel to wonder if he’s lost you. Although, he never really had you in the first place.

next->

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel x shadow!reader

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moonys-library · 11 months

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Men are more interesting in books than they are in real life.

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tadpolesonalgae · 6 months

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Azriel x reader: Unchained[*]

A/N: it’s a mess because I had no idea where it was going when it started 😭

Warnings: Masturbation, shadow-play (absolute menaces), slight voyeurism, hand job + blowjob, smut, soft!Az?, biting, forced proximity?

Word count: 4,408

You glare at the shadows as they twine up your thighs, nudging your book out the way.

Rolling your eyes, smile on your lips, you return to your story, having just settled down to read. The second you remove your attention from them however, they’re knocking at your book again, flicking between your fingers, eventually loosening your grip enough it falls into your lap. Brow scrunches as you peer at the shadows, “what’s gotten into you today, hm? You’re normally so docile?”

The darkness dances around your fingers, nuzzling against the dip of your palm, making you laugh. “Is your master ignoring you again?” Lips stretch at the imagery—they sometimes get a little antsy when he buries himself in work, feeling lonely and neglected. As if in answer, the shadows scoot up your arms, wrapping around your shoulders, pushing between your shoulder blades. A laugh huffs from your mouth as you raise to your feet. “Okay, okay,” you chide, softly, “lead the way. But you know how he is, I doubt I’ll be able to do much other than maybe play with you for a little.”

A shadow lightly brushes the crest of your cheek, making you smile despite the nerves building beneath your skin. He won’t be upset with you for disturbing him, will he? The last thing you want is to distract him. But if his shadows are the ones calling you… Teeth prod into your lower lip. Warmth dusts your cheeks, getting to see him.

Mindlessly, you allow the shadows to guide you through the hallways of the House of Wind, feet padding quietly along the floors as your lead deeper into the residence. Strangely, you note, they don’t seem to be taking you to his office—walk you straight past the door. Heart spikes as you realise the direction they’re pushing you in.

Hesitantly, you come to a stop, shadows carrying on for a little before halting, turning to watch you.

“Are you sure about this? Won’t he want privacy if he’s in there?” You murmur to them, worrying your bottom lip. Brow scrunches deeper, “he’s not bringing his work into his bedroom, is he now?” You ask, slightly exasperated. His private chambers should be where he’s allowed to relax for the little time he allows himself.

The shadows don’t reply. Merely press against the small of your back, gently encouraging you forward.

Reluctantly, you follow their guidance, a little unsure. But it’s his shadows; they wouldn’t do anything he wouldn’t be happy with. Reassured, you obediently pad along with them. Until you reach his door.

It’s already peeked open a crack, and his shadows drop to your feet, sliding off your body with a feather-light touch. Slinking across the floorboards, returning to their master.

Quietly—so as not to disturb him if he’s resting—you inch toward the door. It’s not wide enough for you to peer through the hinges, so your eyes find the mirror that reflects the wide expanse of his bedchambers. A strange scent catches your attention—deeper than what you’re accustomed to…muskier? You wish you knew what it meant, but you haven’t been granted enough access to him to figure it out. It’s not distressed, though, you note. That scent, you’re well-accustomed with.

Softly, you push the door a little wider, just a centimetre or two, revealing just enough of the mirror for his whereabouts to become apparent.

Eyes widen as you hold in your breath of shock.

He’s propped up on the bed, wings pinned behind his back to the headboard, arms bound near the base of his spine, and…and he’s—… There’s not a scrap of clothing on him. Save for the blindfold tied across his eyes.

Tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth as you take him in, blood spiking in your veins. Traitorously flushing your skin.

His shadows sweep over the muscled planes of his heavenly body, grazing his chest, threading through his inky black hair—head tips back ever so slightly, craning into the touch. His canines prick into one corner of his lower lip, skin whitening with the pressure as his back arches, stomach gleaming with sweat; flexing as his darkness—

You nearly stumble backward, exhaling a soft breath.

Mouth goes dry, watching his shadows swarm his cock, squeezing their master torturously. His cheeks flush with colour, a guttural moan ripping from his chest as they twist mercilessly. A low curse growls from his mouth as the darkness fists in his hair, dragging him backward to expose the strong column of his throat.

You shouldn’t be seeing this. Dear gods, you should not be seeing this.

Throat rolls, and you move to take a step back, when something else catches your attention.

At your feet is a small key, the kind that fits into each of the doors in the house. Azriel must have locked up before starting. But if that’s the case, how did—

Shadows build at your back, right as you piece together how eager they had been to drag you over to their master. Shove between your shoulder blades, forcing you to stumble into the room in order to right yourself. A yelp breaks from your chest as you collide with the door, tripping over your feet as you nearly topple over.

Instantly, you smack your hand over your mouth, but he’s already heard. Body stiffening. Shadows halting their games.

“Who’s there?” He snarls, letters ripping viscerally from between his teeth, arms flexing as he makes to remove the blindfold but— His shadows aren’t cooperating. They should have already unchained him by now, yet they’re remaining neatly wrapped around his cock, unwilling to halt his pleasure entirely.

Mortification flushes your cheeks, and you spin. Just in time to see the door slam shut, lock clicking. Key returned to its home.

You stare at the shadows as they slink away, darting back across the floor to reach him. Azriel.

The shadowsinger straightens, awareness lighting his skin as instinct kicks in—but not the one he needs. Arousal is still spiking his heart, shifting his scent, making his mind muddy and unclear. Opposite him, your eyes are darting about the room, trying desperately to find something to explain away the situation. Anything save for admitting you were watching him, then his shadows caught you. Though technically it had been them that had gotten you into this predicament. Surely that counts for something…

“I said,” he repeats, so rough it’s difficult to decipher, “who’s there?”

Heat flushes your cheeks. Maybe if you sneak to the exit…

“Cassian, you’re a dead male if you don’t fucking get out,” he snarls, making you halt. You sometimes forget how close they are. How peculiar their bonds are, too. You could never imagine being so comfortable with someone else.

Silently, you turn back to the door, tip-toeing forward, reaching for the key. Shadows bat your hands away, abruptly surging forward to lock around your waist, firmly guiding you back to the centre of the room. Just a few feet from the foot of his bed.

Azriel’s brow dips when he doesn’t get a reply. “Cass.”

You wonder if he can hear your heartbeat. It wouldn’t surprise you.

Shadows snare your ankles, and you inhale sharply, staring down as the writhe at your feet, pinning you in place. Azriel stiffens when your noise reaches his ears—definitely not Cassian. Nor Rhys.

Blood practically freezes when your name slides from his tongue, voice thick and rough. How did he figure it out so quickly?

You swallow, praying to the mother he’ll believe you that his shadows pushed you in here. Pushed you in, and unlocked his door. Then relocked it.

No way.

“Yeah…” you answer, voice catching. Clear your throat. Shadows stutter at the sound of you, squeezing his cock, making his jaw tense. He opens his mouth to speak, but you jump first. “Azriel I swear I didn’t mean to see anything,” you say, words pouring from your lips like they’re made of wildfire. “I was just—Your shadows were telling me to come see you, so I did, but then we went past your office and I was worried I would interrupt you, but they kept telling me to go forward, and then we got here, and I— They pushed me in, and I’m so sorry, I promise I… I’m so sorry…”

Humiliation crawls down your spine, carefully averting your eyes from between his legs.

Again, he opens his mouth to talk, but instead a sharp groan drags from his mouth, teeth biting his lower lip as shadows pulse around his cock, flicking over the slit in his head. Arousal zaps between your legs, skin buzzing as you try your hardest to think of something to keep your scent from shifting.

“Uh… I’m really sorry, but the door’s locked, and they’re not letting me—” You gasp as they raise higher, suddenly snaking up to your calves, crawling up to your thighs. “Azriel…” You squeak, freezing as they brush beneath your skirts.

The shadowsinger shakes his head, almost in dismay. “They do this sometimes. Misbehave when I let them off,” he bites out, chewing his lower lip—slightly swollen. “I need you to remove the blindfold. They’ll cooperate when they know I can see them,” he mutters.

Heat pools in your lower belly, but when you make to move forward, the shadows allow it. “Untie the blindfold and you’re sure you’ll be fine?” You mumble, quietly padding forward, skin tingling as you try not to look at him too much. How devastatingly hungry he makes you.

Azriel nods, oblivious to your inner thoughts.

Despite shaky fingers, you make quick work of the blindfold, silk slipping easily from the knot, allowing your eyes to lock with blown out hazel. Pupils dilated from the darkness. You look away hastily.

Yet things only seem to get worse, much to your mutual embarrassment.

“I don’t know what they’re doing,” he grits out, sending a scathing glare to the idle darkness, content to remain snug around his cock, unwilling to click the key in the lock of his chain. You shake your head, “I’ll just undo them. Then you’ll be good to go, right?” Eyes lock again at the poor choice of words, and heat flushes your cheeks.

“If you’re comfortable…” he hedges, colour dusting his skin. At least you’re not alone in the awkwardness.

Nodding once, you crawl onto the bed, getting to your feet. The only way you’ll be able to reach the lock is by going down between his wings, as they’re blocking your access from the side. You try to ignore the heat that’s steadily building between your thighs. Pray Azriel won’t be able to tell as you lean over him, feet either side of his hips as you attempt to avoid the great wings at his back. They’re really fucking big though.

Fingers fumble, feeling for the chains, but darkness is shrouding him, making it nearly impossible to actually see what you’re doing. “Is there any way for you to at least remove them from your arms? I’m struggling to see what’s where…” You brush skin, then zero in on it, tracing down to his wrists. “Wait— I think…” You lean further, his shoulders tensing, head shifting to make room as you reach for where you assume the iron is. “Okay… I can feel the locks,” you report, squinting in attempt to see what you’re touching. “Do you remember which one has the key in, Azriel?” You ask, trying to feel your way around.

Beneath you, the male has gone silent. Body rigid.

“Azriel?” You repeat, halting your movements. Pull back. “Azriel, what— Oh my gods.”

“I’m so sorry. They’re not—” He cuts himself off, hissing your name in warning. Just a second too late for you to register as his shadows hook around your hips, having crept up the backs of your thighs. You’re roughly yanked away from the chains, pulled with enough force to make you—

“Motherfucker!” You hiss, collapsing into his lap, shadows still working him with agonising slowness.

In any other scenario, Azriel would have released a surprised laugh at hearing the foul curse coming from your mouth. Instead, his cock twitches, unaccustomed to hearing such a filthy word on your tongue.

Both of you stiffen with the proximity, eyes locking and widening as scents twine. Gazes break, hastily snapping away. Clear your throat.

“Should I— I mean, should I get Cass? Or maybe Rhys’ll know what to do?” You manage, voice heavy and thick. Azriel shakes his head. “They’ll never let me live this down,” he mutters, muscle flexing as he shifts beneath you. “Maybe you should just let them continue…” you murmur, heat flushing your cheeks as hazel cuts to you. Swallow once. “I mean, that’s what they’re doing, right? Trying to get you to—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” he grits out, colour tinting his skin. Hisses when his shadows squeeze him in reprimand. Then stop entirely. Stubborn things.

Azriel’s chest rises up and down, sweat gleaming in the low light, your temperature increasing.

“Do you… Can I help?”

Hazel stares at you, making you want to steal the words back from the world. Open your mouth to apologise…

“You…” Muscle feathers in his jaw. Eyes flick to his shadows. One curls around his ear. Attention snaps to you, nostrils flaring delicately. “I would appreciate it,” he manages stiffly, still staring at you.

Mother strike you down.

Push away embarrassment, shifting in his lap, settling between his legs. Swallow once, wapping your hand around him. “I’m not sure what… Please tell me what you like.” Azriel sucks in a shaky breath, sending a free wave of his arousal wrapping around you, clouding your mind. “Firmer,” he instructs after you move your hand over him. He shudders, darkness stuttering at his back, brows digging together. “More,” he manages, sounding strained.

You grip him tighter, repeating the action, heart pounding as you watch his responses. His teeth biting into his lip, eyes pressed shut in attempts to manage his pleasure. Why is he wanting to stay in control when the whole point is to lose it?

That certainly won’t do.

Again, you shift, lips parting as your tongue flicks over the slit in his head, tasting the moisture that’s gathered there.

Azriel swears under his breath, feeling the weight of his attention on you. Exhilaration lighting your blood at being the centre of his arousal. Legs part, allowing you more access, and you settle more comfortably—one arm wrapping beneath his thigh, free hand pumping what you know you won’t be able to swallow.

Shadows flicker, then yield entirely as you slide down onto him, taking him into your mouth, tongue shifting against the underside. Tension melts from his body, slumping slightly against the headboard as he twitches. A guttural moan rips from his throat as you flick your wet muscle just beneath his head, hand pumping his base, fingers soothing brushing against his hip bone. Gentle and torturous.

Your name slips from his tongue, deep and rough. “I can’t—… I’m—” You hum comfortingly, encouraging him along. Shadows flick over the backs of your thighs, spurring you to take him as deep as you can, throat flexing around him as he twitches. His hips buck, causing a small gagging sound to whimper from you, and he groans. Without hesitating, he repeats the action, bucking up into your mouth, needing a repeat. Throat contracts, squeezing him as you whine, tears building at the edges of your vision.

When you pull to his tip, then slide back down, his restraint snaps, cum spurting from his tip as he sinks back against the bed, head tipping to expose the strong column as it bobs. Chest rises and falls deeply, panting as euphoria concentrates his blood, blinding pleasure coating his skin. Eyes flutter as they roll upward, spine curving as you take him.

Slowly, you pull back, tongue flicking over your lips to catch anything you missed, lapping the remaining moisture from his head. Blown out hazel cuts into you, temperature spiking at the hunger he greets you with. “Where did you learn that?” He pants, eyes narrowing. You swallow; he tracks that, too. “It’d be a little embarrassing if I didn’t know at my age, don’t you think?” You counter, trying to bite back the heat that’s turned liquid between your thighs.

His throat rolls, eyes flicking downward—raking over you. Reassessing.

“Well,” you say hastily, “you should be good to—” Bite your tongue as shadows curiously play beneath your skirts, a single tendril sneaking beneath the band of your underwear, snapping it against your abdomen. His jaw ticks at the sound, knowing exactly what the darkness is doing to you. Right before his eyes.

“Will you…” Mother above, it’s much more difficult than he anticipated. With almost any other female, he would have no concerns at all. Shakes his head, straight to the point. “You enjoyed that.” He’s rewarded with the sound of you softly cursing, heat warming your skin, enough for him to shift with pleasure at the thought of sinking into you. How wet you must be from your scent.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “I can’t help it.”

Azriel swallows thickly. “Act on it.”

Eyes lock, breath catches in your lungs. “What?” The male shifts, wings twitching as he rearranges them. “I know you want to,” he breathes, eyes fluttering slightly as he pulls your scent into him. “So I’m giving you the okay.” Shadows flick against your inner thighs, making your head dip. He’s saying it’s fine…and Gods you want him so badly.

Azriel nearly sighs with relief when you hesitantly settle your palms on his shoulders, nearly groans with delight as you fully put yourself over his lap, thighs either side of his hips. For so long he’s been waiting for you to open yourself up to him, gently plying you apart with incessant determination. And now here you are at last, crawling into his lap, ready to take him. Sends a quiet prayer to the Mother, thankful for the relief sweeping in.

Pleasure builds beneath his skin as you pull your skirts up, inadvertently displaying yourself to his hungry eyes. How the cotton is suctioned to your heat, undoubtedly a patch of darkened fabric at your entrance. He can scent your arousal; guess at how wet you are.

Fingers dip between your legs, shadows pulling your skirts taut against your pretty hips, allowing you to push the cotton aside, letting his tip slot against the soft dip between your thighs. He exhales a shaky breath, chest rising and falling heavily, attention glued to your cunt, watching as you brace both hands on his shoulders, heart spiking at the contact. Feel as you try to slide down, taking him slowly, swallowing his head.

Teeth bite into your lip as you begin to settle your weight over him, already feeling how big he is. Suck your lower lip in, spine curving as you rise up, then settle down, repeating the actions until you can fully sit yourself in his lap. Hips pressed tight against the backs of your thighs. Mouth opens in pleasure, eyes fluttering as you clamp down around him.

“You okay?” He breathes softly, feeling how tight you are around him, despite the wetness that’s dripping down onto him. Nod your head, though your eyes are still slightly rolled. You look numb with pleasure, and he needs to grip your hips, be in control so he can slam you down onto his cock. Abuse the spots inside of you he has yet to discover.

Azriel calls your name softly; you try to blink away your stupor. Straighten your spine, weight shifting over him, moans pouring from your lips as he grazes a part of you that—fuck.

Shadows twine around your back, letting you rest against the tops of his thighs as you pant heavily, heat buzzing beneath your skin—clothes need to come off. “Azriel…” you whimper. “Azriel, can you…?” Darkness flicks over your hips, skating up your stomach, pulling loose strings and dragging the fabric away almost in the blink of an eye. Lips part in pleasure as you slump a little in relief, cock pressing deeper.

“I need you to untie me,” he whispers gently, colour flushing his cheeks. “Can you do that for me?”

Peek your eyes open enough to latch onto hazel, pupils blown out. Moans softly whine from your chest—how intimate he looks. Swallow, then lips part. Shake your head, smiling softly. Azriel’s hip buck with need, urging you to rethink your decision. Back arches, a louder moan bursting from your chest. Forcing him to watch as you come apart while his shadows slink across your skin. Tongue flicks out to wet his lips as darkness plays with your perky nipples. Pinching. Biting.

“Azriel…” you moan. He growls in frustration, tugging on the self-inflicted restraints, begging for them to magically undo. Furious with his shadows for daring to put him through this kind of torture.

“I need you to untie me, pretty thing,” he groans, watching as you swirl your hips, exploring how his cock can make you feel. “Untie me, then we can have some fun. Wouldn’t you like that?” Lips part as your eyes lift into a smile, a mix between a moan and a laugh bubbling out. Shift so your full weight is over his hips, forcing his head to tip back against the headboard, eyes squeezing together as he tries to keep his sanity.

“You’re the one who tied yourself up,” you purr drowsily, arms gliding over the broad expanse of his shoulders, briefly attaching your mouth to one of the many paths of ink trailing across his chest. Teeth drag across hot, tan skin, tongue flicking over his nipple, hips bucking sharply, a quiet gasp huffing from his nipped-raw lips. Again, canines dig into the skin, attempting to quiet himself, but he has neither his hands nor his shadows to aid him this time.

You lean forward, mouth opening over his own, taking his lower lip between your teeth, tugging lightly. Hazel locks onto you; you purr. Spine curving, breasts softly pressing against him, almost aching with pleasure. Roll your hips.

He gives you a dark glance, peering at you from beneath a narrowed brow, dark locks of hair curling. You moan, hands greedily exploring the muscle of his shoulders, dipping down his back. Hazel widens as you brush his wings. Lips slant against his own, tongue flicking against him, and he opens eagerly. Unable to form a defence against you now the soft pads of your fingertips are stimulating him in such an intimate way.

“Like that, Azzie?” You ask lazily, rolling your hips onto him. Mind numbing from pleasure. Cock nestled so deep inside of you. “You like this sort of thing, don’t you?” Pull away to peer at him, moving with lethargic grace. A mix between a groan and a whimper hums at the back of his throat, and you grind against him in response.

“Please…” he breathes, “untie me, torturous thing.”

The grin that spreads across your mouth has hope vanishing, forced to watch as you lean back onto him, weight again shifting. Forced to watch as you ride him to your own pleasure, unable to move you how he wants, watch as your eyes roll back. Nails dig into him, lightly catching the edge of his wing as you retreat, and he nearly reaches his high right then and there. But you retract, chasing your own orgasm, and then you’re fluttering around his cock, cunt spasming as pleasure concentrates in your veins.

It’s only once you’ve slumped back against his thighs that shadows click the key in the lock. And all at once, he’s free. Free to touch you, to grip and grope. Unchained.

A high-pitched moan spills from your mouth into his as he flips you onto your back, hungrily devouring you as you’re pressed into the bed. Hands grip your wrists tight, simulating the torture of his own experiences, pinning you to his bed as he cages you in. Hips drawing back, then slamming in. Tears spill from your eyes, running back into your hair as he fucks you within an inch of a second orgasm.

“Azriel!” You gasp, breath having trouble entering and exiting your lungs from sheer pleasure. Slams in to the hilt, hips grinding against you as he halts his movements. Back arches, bowing off the bed, baring your chest for him to put his teeth over. Canines close around one nipple, pulling and tugging while keeping himself nestled deep in your wet cunt. Tongue circles and flicks over the sensitive peak, suckling lightly before giving his attention to your other.

“Azriel, please…!” You pant, crying out for him to continue, attempting to buck your hips. Trying to stimulate some friction. Pulls away from your breasts, gleaming from attention of his hot, wet mouth. “What do you want?” He growls, hissing from the way you clamp around him at the deep, syrupy pour of his voice, how it licks between your thighs, zaps pleasure to your clit.

Eyes lock together, your own set bright and gleaming from tears. “Move…please. Go harder.” A rough chuckles drags from the back of his throat, carnal and animalistic. Spawning butterflies in your abdomen, fluttering wildly at this untamed side of him. Canines push into the supple skin of your neck, stamping in his mark, printing his ownership onto your body.

Hips drag back. Then slam in.

Mouth parts in pleasure, muscles trembling as the second wave crashes over you, eyes rolling back as he pounds into you. Overstimulation breaks across your skin, the same time you feel him twitch, hot spurts of cum spilling into you. Pumping you full as he continues to abuse you over and over, causing you to shake and tremble while he keeps you pinned to his bed.

It’s only when the last aftershock of pleasure has subsided that he allows you reprieve. Rolling you over so you’re atop him, lazing together in the aftermath of pleasure. The tangle of limbs you’ve created, the mess sticking you together. Shadows lick and flick over your skin, wanting to play. Wanting another turn.

Azriel’s tempted to let them, after the torture you put him through.

Let them return the favour.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming

#Azriel #Azriel x reader #Azriel smut #Azriel x reader smut #Shadowsinger #Azriel shadowsinger #October #shadows #shadow play

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readychilledwine · 3 months

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Size Kink

✨️Kink Education with Elizabeth✨️

A Size Kink is a general term for being aroused by being smaller/larger than your partner. It can be height, muscle mass/weight in general, cock size, ect. This is generally a kink we associate with subs having, but in my humble 5'1" experience, I've met more Doms with this kink than subs (hence my 5'11" baby daddy who thought he'd never have someone short enough to enjoy this kink with.) This kink has several subgroups that fall into it and sex acts that fall into it, but my personal favorite to write is height difference and body frame difference. So tall muscular male, short female (curvy or lean.)

What I love about size kinks is that it's so focused on specific aspects, and ANY body type gets to play with it. Little hands? Little legs? Luscious curves? Member of the Itty bitty titty committee? There is someone out there with a size Kink who is into your body and thinks you are a piece of artwork and sexiest thing on the planet. It's so beautiful because it is a body type kink that does not discriminate, and as a sex positive and body image positive person, I think that's super important and comforting for some people.

💕Peep the Valentines Day list here💕

As always NSFW below the cut

Azriel x short!reader

Warnings - reader is VERY petite, smut, p in v, slow stretching

A/N - So, I actually have a request for a size Kink with Cassian sitting in my drafts as well from before I decided to do Valentines Day Bingo. Since I picture Cassian as an absolute unit, I used a more Megan thee Stallion vibe for that reader (tall and thick) so I decided to go very short and thinner built for this one to ensure they'd be different. I apologize if that bothers anyone. I will try to get that Cassian request finished asap to post it and make up for this 💙

Ps- with how quickly I am cranking some of these out, and how.... spicy some of them are getting, I don't have my normal outside editing all of the time. Baby daddy proof read this one. Before staring at me and going, "that wasn't fair." So, I apologize for any errors, as always, I will catch them on my fresh reread after it's posted 🫠

Azriel was slowly losing his mind as he watched you use a chair to be closer to Cassian's height and argue with him face to face.

You were just so… small. So little compared to the two Illyrian males. They towered over you. They dwarfed you. Hell, he and Cass had discussed several times how easy you'd be to manhandle, considering they were both so sure their large hands could almost touch if they were wrapped around your waist.

At 6’8” and 7’ it wasn't hard for him and Cassian to own a room or be the tallest males, but Gods when Azriel stood next to your 5’ frame, when he saw Cassian pick you up like you were no more than a doll. It did something to him. It made him feel like a God, like he was powerful, possibly invincible.

He had been further spurred on by over hearing you and Nesta yesterday. She had asked you about how, if the opportunity presented itself, you would manage to fuck an Illyrian, and you, you with your never back down attitude had told Ness, “Mountains were made to be climbed.” He did not know if you had meant that in regards to him, but his hand found his cock quickly that night.

Azriel walked over to where you and Cassian argued over cereal. The fight wasn't serious, but he just needed to remind you that even with a chair below you, you still fell a few inches short.

“Get down before you fall and hurt yourself, angel.” He put a hand to you, offering to help you down. You glared, but put your hand in his.

Offering to help you was a mistake.

He felt the blood rushing to his cock as your little hand sat in his.

He shared a knowing look with Cassian when you looked away to step down and get back on the floor. The argument resumed instantly, your hand still in his.

It stopped as soon as Nesta walked in. Her mate and you going silent and agreeing to disagree.

Well, at least you thought you had agreed. Until Cassian turned around, Nesta in his arms waiting to fly into Velaris. He looked between you and Azriel before smirking. “You know, y/n, you might have shit taste in cereal, but at least you're the perfect height for some things.”

You didn't get it until you turned to Azriel, plush lips parted to ask what Cassian meant.

The blush that spread your cheeks was sinful.

Another image Azriel would save when he imagined it was your mouth around his cock tonight.

Azriel's room was across the hall from yours, so he knew you were being subjected to the same torture he was.

He was sure all of the Night Court could hear Cassian and Nesta. He rolled over to his back, throwing an arm over his face and sighing.

You were so small, so sneaky, he hadn't noticed you come in and shut the door until you were sitting on his bed.

And fuck being in his custom made oversized bed made you look so little. “Hello angel.”

He made room for you, welcoming you under the blanket you laid facing him, watching him. “Do you all never.. get worn out?” He chuckled. “Because humans do. Males typically finish, then they're like, done, and asleep.”

He looked towards you, laughing and smiling so hard his dimples were showing. “Is that your way of telling me you didn't enjoy rolling in the sheets while you were human?”

That blush spread your face again. “I had plenty of fun before Hybern did this to me. Thank you very much, sir.”

You had done it. Azriel shut his eyes, growling at the nickname as he did. “You cannot call me that when you're laying in my bed, y/n.”

You looked at him, snuggling closer to him. You knew what you were doing to him. You had known for a while. You always tracked his eyes when he'd watch you take your heels off, biting his lip thinking no one was looking. You noticed him hide his arousal behind a mask of indifference when you would climb things around the House of Wind. You had also noticed Azriel and Cassian taking every chance they could to lift you.

You had even know Azriel was so sneakily listening to you and Nesta the other day, and you had meant it. Azriel was a mountain you intended on climbing. “Of course, sir. Wouldn't want you to have to use those big hands to keep me quiet.”

The growl that echoed through the room had your thighs clenching. He was on you in an instant arm between your breasts, so it rested on your neck. The other hand sat on your hip, inching forward. “Do not tease me.” You could feel him pressed against your back, mind immediately lost in how that would fit.

You may have been biting off more than you could chew.

But fuck it.

You had never backed down from a challenge. Why start now?

You wiggled further into him, grazing his cock with each movement. “What if I'm not teasing? What if this is an offer, sir?”

“You're going to regret that, little one,” Azriel's hand immediately was in your shorts, his other hand squeezing your throat. A thick finger ran your soaked core, pulling a moan from you. “Going to have to go slow,” Azriel ground his hips into you, needing that friction on his aching cock. “Don't want to hurt you, angel.”

That one finger entered you without warning. It was already a stretch, but one you welcomed.

You loved how everything about Azriel was so big. His hands, his muscled chest and arms, his wings. Of course he'd be big there too. Anticipation began to replace the fear. You relaxed into him, tilting your head and pulling him into a heated sloppy kiss.

Azriel swallowed your moans and cries as his finger opened you up for him. You were tight, so damn tight. His hand moved from your throat to your breasts, loving how they weren't even a handful for him. You were so petite and slim, he reminded himself. He pulled your tank top off, maneuvering the best he could to get you fully below him. He pushed in a second finger, watching as you squirmed so helplessly below him. “So fucking little,” he moaned. “Mother above you're perfect. Just perfect.”

He leaned back, fingers increasing speed the best they could with your shorts in the way while he toyed with your breasts, pinching your nipples and smacking the tender flesh as he saw fit. “Cum for me so I can sit you on my cock, angel. You can do it, y/n. Show me how tight you'll be squeezing around me.”

You felt like you were floating as you came, whimpering Azriel's name as you watched him rut against the mattress for some friction, hazel eyes damn near lost in lust.

He pulled his fingers out of you, wasting no time ripping his sweatpants off and using those juices to coat himself. Your shorts came next, torn to shreds as he pulled you to the edge of the mattress and rested one leg on both sides of his chest.

He was as perfect as you imagined. His cock was long and thick. He was running it along your folds, soaking up at the slick he could before smacking the head of it against your clit.

Azriel could help but to stand with his hips flush against yours, admiring how it looked like his cock would be damn near in your stomach. “Gonna go slow,” he mumbled as he positioned himself at your entrance. “Can't risk hurting my little angel.”

He pushed the head in, keeping an eye on you as you moaned out a long fuck before relaxing into his bed. He sat there, only a few inches inside of you, feeling as your walls stretched out to accommodate him.

He pulled out and slowly reentered, pushing a little more inside of you. Your back arched off the bed, a whimper of pleasure ripping through your throat. The burn of it felt so good. You felt yourself drooling already, mind numb, and lost to anything that wasn't Azriel.

He continued his motions over and over until he was flush against your hips, and you were screaming for him. You had cum just from him slowly getting inside of you, and now he could see the bulge he had created, the slight swelling inside of you as your body made room for him.

Azriel put a hand on the bulge, feeling himself inside of you as he began thrusting. You were squeezing him so tight, hand struggling to find him to hold on to something.

He felt himself losing control, pace growing faster and faster as he watched you squirming and moaning below him. His arms went behind your hips and back, lifting you off the bed and manhandling you in the air for a little while. He brought you to his chest, moving you to be against the wall that shared his room and Cassian's.

A silent brag, and message, that he could now accurrately inform Cassian how easy you were to toss around like a doll.

Your hands found purchase on his shoulders as you became a babbling mess. Your silky core was twitching and tightening around him all over again, indicating to him how close you were, how ready you were. “Az,” you panted. “So fucking big.”

“Yeah,” he kissed the top of your head. “Bet it feels so good stretching you out, doesn't it, baby?” You couldn't respond as a certain angle had you becoming pliant in his arms. “Fuck I know it does.” He was practically lifting you on and off of him, watching as you stretched around his cock. “You're close, aren't you, angel?”

You nodded, eyes glazed over and jaw fallen open to the perfect o. “Gonna cum.”

“Then cum. Squeeze my cock. You wanted to climb the mountain, right y/n? Fucking climb.”

You hit that peak on his command again, clinging to him tightly as he continued using you and stretching you out.

It took Azriel a few more moments, but he stilled inside of you, head thrown back in a loud growl as he came inside of you. He pressed you back against the wall, panting slightly as he stared into your eyes. He lifted you easily, allowing his cock to fall out of you and you to whine at the sudden emptiness that took place where he had filled you.

“This can't be a one-time thing,” his voice was almost desperate as he moved to set you on the desk, forehead finding yours. “I need more of you. All of you.”

You couldn't help but to bit your lip, nodding so quickly with a growing smile. “I like how little you make me feel. How safe you make me feel.”

Azriel's eyes almost rolled back completely as they shut. “Gods you are perfect.” He leaned in to kiss you, only to be interrupted by his door slamming open and Cassian and Nesta barging in.

A massive wing snapped between you and them, blocking your body from their view.

Cassian cleared his throat before speaking. “We want to know how exactly that worked. Show us. Please.”

“Show you?!” Your voice cracked as you turned to a smirking Azriel.

Azriel kissed your forehead. “Bend over the desk, angel. Gotta give him a show since he asked so nicely.”

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth

Valentines Day Taglist:

@sfhsgrad-blog @amara-moonlight @eternallyelvish @novaksangel @teenageeggscissorslawyer @thisblogisaboutabook @amygdtjhddzvb

@justasillylittlegoofyguy

Azriel Taglist:

@elle4404

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #shadow daddy #readychilledwine valentines day bingo

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ladylokilaufeyson5 · 1 month

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Where The Shadows Dance

Bodyguard!Azriel x AutumnDaughter!Reader

SUMMARY: When Beron invites the Night Court to his Autumn home in an attempt to strengthen bonds between the two courts, Azriel and his companions are suspicious of potential ulterior motives. They are, ultimately, correct to think this, as Beron does have a reason for his invitation.

Y/n Vanserra, the Autumn Court's untamed princess, needs a bodyguard, and who better than one of the Night Court warriors who helped command the armies against Hybern?

Y/n's untamed spirit clashes with Azriel's reserved nature, leading to unwilling adventures and forbidden explorations of the Autumn Court's hidden corners. And Azriel slowly stops finding himself able to say no - not when she flirts with him to get her way, or teases him for being a 'broody old male.'

And though he knows he shouldn't, he finds himself falling for her. It will jeopardise everything, and yet he can't help it...

But it's okay, because she's falling for him too.

GENERAL WARNINGS: swearing, violence, descriptions of injuries and blood, smut (18+ mdni), um... yeah

Chapter i - The Proposition

Chapter ii - The Bodyguard

Chapter iii - The Princess

Chapter iv - coming soon

Chapter v - coming soon

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fanwarriorfictions · 26 days

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Not Again

Azriel x Rowaelin Daughter Reader

Summary: Azriel has a bad habit of finding random females falling onto the River House lawn. This time, the female in question catches him off guard, and she seems to be even stranger than the last.

Series Masterlist

-Part One-

There was a shift in the air, so subtle that it could’ve been passed off as a breeze through a cracked window. He would’ve thought just that if it hadn’t been for the keen wisps of shadows at his shoulders whispering in his ears, outside, someone’s here, outside, here, here, here, here.

The room filled with his family was non the wiser as the shadowsinger shifted towards the door, all of them talking and laughing by the fire place. Feyre and Rhys cozied up on the loveseat, little Nyx nestled in his mothers arms. Nesta sitting on Cassian’s lap, the sisters talking about the recent books they’d read, his brothers admiring their mates. Mor sipped on her third glass of wine, listening to Elain talk about her blooming garden while she absently fiddled with her still full glass, Lucien sitting comfortably by her side, content to just listen to his mate talk. Amren was nowhere to be found tonight, Varian presumably in town.

Azriel found it easy to slip out the back door, ready to deal with the supposed trouble without disturbing his family’s peace. His shadows didn’t seem alarmed, persistent, but not noting any imminent threat. Despite their ease, he found Truth Teller in his hand, ready to deal with whoever he found if necessary.

It was dark outside, the brisk night air dancing over his fire warmed skin. Calm, no sign of that subtle shift, nothing but his shadows urging him towards the garden, towards whoever was out here causing the small disturbance.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for, what he was expecting to find. Maybe a drunk who wandered to far from the main streets of Velaris, maybe a curious young fae who just wanted a glimpse of the inner circle. He’d dealt with his fair share of both, gently warning them away from the home.

But whatever he’d been expecting it certainly wasn’t what he found. A female laid on the ground, clothes and skin covered with dirt and blood, her body sprawled like she’d been thrown down without care. He could sent fresh blood on her coming from a wound on her head, the stream of it dripping down onto the stones beneath her. Her breathing was steady, her heartbeat strong.

Azriel clenched the blade’s hilt tight in his hand, drawing closer to her slowly. Her scent drifted towards him on a phantom wind, pine and snow, like the mountains of Illryia. Despite his resentment of the people who lived there, the scent reminded him of home.

His shadows curiously trail around the female, finding more and more injuries, a cut on her thigh, bruising across her abdomen. Whoever she was, she had seen her fair share of violence. She was high fae, her ears arched into delicate points, though he could not discern which court she may belong too. Her clothes were to disheveled to detect a distinct style, black leather pants and a long sleeved green shirt beneath a leather vest sheathed with knives like a bandolier. Clothes that could belong to any court, maybe even from the continent.

So busy examining her he didn’t detect the change in her breathing until it was to late.

The female launched up with such speed he was almost to slow to block the attack. She’d pulled one of those knives from her vest, it’s wickedly sharp edge to close to his throat for comfort. Truth Teller blocked the blade, the metal singing against her dagger. The female was quick to pull back, not lunging again like he thought she would but reaching for a smaller knife at her ribs, it was flying through the air faster than he could blink, aiming for his eye with remarkable accuracy, Cassian would be proud of a throw like that. The only reason it didn’t take his eye was due to a shadow darting out to grab the blade midair.

The female is a blur as she lunges again, going for the arm holding his blade. He dodges back, the strike missing him by a hair. She’s fast, faster than most fae he’s fought over the centuries. He catches her next strike, a blow to his side that could’ve left him bleeding out on the floor. She pulls back and retreats a few steps, her stance shifting back like she might jump at him again.

“Stop,” he snarls at her.

She hisses, baring her teeth at him, teeth with unusually sharp canines, and then she speaks, a language he’d never heard before. And that’s when the pieces start to click, when his shadows start to whisper, not of this world, another, another world, another, another, another.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he grounds out, “not again.”

The female only snarls, reaching for another of those small wicked blades. She flips it, pinching the sharp tip between her fingers.

“Wait,” he says, sheathing his dagger at his side, “just wait.”

Her eyes track his movements, the ice cold look in them enough to make him shiver. It felt like the air around them tried to freeze under her gaze, the wind no longer a soft breeze but an ice kissed howl.

His head cocked to the side, that was her, she was controlling the wind. The air swirling around them faster and faster, colder and colder.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said though he was sure she couldn’t understand him.

He held his hands up so she could see them, willing his shadows away so he could look as unthreatening as possible. When the last unknown female had landed on this lawn, she’d fallen right in front of him, he’d been able to get his blade angled to her throat before she had anytime to react, this female on the other hand, had managed to get the jump on him first, a fact that his brothers would never let him live down.

The wind bit at his wings, discomfort sooner turning to pain if it kept up like that. It felt like the moisture in the air was turning to ice, slicing into his skin.

She repeats her words, her voice hard and unforgiving just like the wind around them. A shield, he realized, a casing of wind to block all sound, to keep others out and to keep him trapped.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says again, hoping she can understand the plea in his tone.

Her head tilts, examining him from head to toe, a predator studying its next meal. In that moment, Azriel had never felt more like prey in his life. She had an intensity that rivaled Nesta and Amren, like she knew she was the most powerful creature in the room and she’d be happy to prove it. This female was dangerous, strong, fast, and from another world just like Bryce Quinlann, he could only hope she’d turn out to be an ally as well.

Blood still drips down her face, the cut on her brow deep and jagged, like it had been ripped across a dull object. The scent of her blood filled his nose, laced with that pine and snow, and something warm, like an ember drifting from a fire. Again, it smelled uncannily like home.

Those cold eyes flare wide, the frost bitten wind warming a fraction. Something in her posture shifts, no longer in fight mode, but flight.

“Stop,” he pleads, “hold on.”

Her voice shifts when she speaks, lighter and less harsh, he still can’t understand any of it. His confusion must be evident on his face because she scoffs, lowering the dagger to her side, still not sheathing it. The wind fades away, replaced by a warm gentle breeze that thaws his near frozen wings.

Azriel sighs in relief and she cocks her head at the sound. Her eyes take in his wings, noting the frost on them that slowly melts away. The air seems to get even warmer then.

“Thank you,” he says, bowing his head to show his gratitude, all while keeping an eye on her.

Though she seems to be less hostile, he wouldn’t let his guard down for a second around her.

He felt it then, the gentle prying talons on his mind, ones he instantly let in. Showing Rhys exactly where he was and who was before him.

Not again, Rhys sighs.

That’s what I said, Azriel replies.

And then that night kissed power settles around them, the female’s eyes hardening back to ice, dagger already raised and ready to defend herself. Azriel was half tempted to tell her it wasn’t worth it, that there was little she could do against Rhys, but he kept his mouth shut as his high lord appeared before them. Giving the female that cool charming look that had most ready to eat out of the palm of his hand.

She didn’t have that kind of reaction, instead she lifted that dagger towards his high lord, a snarl on her lips, those vicious canines on display.

“Well that’s interesting,” Rhys says, coolly looking her over, “high fae, but not one of ours.”

She snaps at him, words he couldn’t understand but by the way she ground them out Azriel could tell they weren’t niceties.

“I’m sure that was her way of calling me a prick,” Rhys chuckles, “I’d recognize it in any language.”

Azriel eyes the two of them, he has no doubts that his high lord could defend himself against the female, but after the last encounter he’d had with a foreign fae he didn’t want to underestimate her. Rhys seems to agree, Azriel can almost see the invisible attack he launches, and he sees the exact moment Rhys hits a wall of pure ice around her mind.

His high lord hisses in pain at the exact moment a bright blue light flares from the female, a mark shining on her brow. The mark like those in the book of breathings, like the horn on Bryce’s back.

The female swears, free hand touching that mark as if she could will it back beneath her skin. Her dagger is aimed for Rhys, but her eyes dance between them both, watching for any movement from Azriel, ready to take both of them on in a heartbeat if it was necessary.

“Go get Amren,” Azriel says, “and bring one of those damned translators.”

Rhys is gone within a split second, and the female is angling that dagger at Azriel instead, a warning to stay back, she makes no move to fight nor flee, her frozen stare colder than before though the air continues to stay warm.

Azriel simply holds his hands in the air, “We mean you no harm.”

She responds in that soft swirling language, his shadows writhe in answer, almost like they could understand her. She frowns at them as they travel across the ground towards her, a soft snarl from her lips has them skittering back. Interesting, the way she seems almost familiar with them, he wonders if she’d encountered fae like him before, maybe like Quinlann’s brother.

Rhys and Amren appear in that night kissed darkness, the female’s attention snapping towards them. Amren curiously examines the girl, that mark that still simmers faintly in her brow.

“Are you collecting more strays?”

Azriel doesn’t respond to the jab, watching as Amren takes the small silver bean from her pocket and throws it towards the female without warning. She catches it with ease, glancing between it and Amren with a raised brow.

“Eat,” Amren commands, miming the action, taping on her mouth as she speaks, “to understand.”

Her eyes find Azriel’s, brow quirked in confusion. He simply nods, mimicking Amren’s actions. She seems to understand that, as she lifts the translator to her mouth and swallows it down.

And just like that she erupts, not with that ice cold wind, but with fire, hotter and stronger than that of the heirs of Autumn. Maybe even hotter than Beron’s himself. A shield from Rhys traps the explosion of power though he winces from the effort of keeping her contained. The fire rages, the earth below her turning to ash in an instant. She burns so hot that the flame around her starts to turn blue. She burns and burns and burns, so bright Azriel shields his eyes, so hot that the shield around her can barely contain that heat.

Rhys does not remove the shield until that fire stops its raging, until all that’s left is smoke and ash. She had collapsed on the floor, her dagger red hot against her skin yet it doesn’t burn her hand. That mark burns brighter as she glares up at them, vibrant blue that lights up the world around them.

“A little warning would’ve been nice,” she snaps, her voice tinged with that soft accent of her language.

“Hard to do that when we don’t speak your tongue,” Amren snaps back. “Who are you?”

Her ice cold stare is unsettling as it examines them all. She stands from the ground, that red hot blade lifting towards them, the air warping from the heat.

“My name is Y/n Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius,” her voice is steady, regal, “Crown Princess of Terrasen. And I’d like to know which one of you opened the gate that dragged me here.”

#this is so self indulgent #but I don’t care at all #Azriel’s shadows are cute little busybodies and I love them #acotar x reader #acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #rowaelin daughter #rowaelin

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itsswritten · 2 months

Text

Naughty little shadows | 9

Pairing: azriel x fem reader

Word count: 9.1K

Warnings: Angst, fighting, an animals bones breaking, IC fallout, 18+ dni if you are underaged, smut, fingering, oral fem receiving -- if I've missed anything please tell me.

Summary: You and Azriel begin to navigate the new complexities of your mating bond, but you quickly realise how dangerous this could become. Is being mated to the Shadowsinger worth your safety?

A/N: I've written a chunky one for you here. You are all very welcome ;) You asked for unhinged Az and you got it, you asked for smut and you got it. Mwah enjoy loves - Lottie

<< Previous Part

In your workshop, the air was thick with the scent of various botanicals and minerals, each carefully selected for their unique properties and hues. On the wooden countertop, there lay an array of ingredients: crushed petals of vibrant flowers, powdered gemstones shimmering with iridescence, and vials filled with rare extracts from mystical plants. You carefully measured and mixed these elements, adding drops of precious oils and resins to create paints that glowed with otherworldly brilliance.

You could do this all day, everyday.

It was your escapism.

Adding a touch of magic to paints was the one part of your power you’ve always been able to exercise. It being subtle and non threatening, meant it became a release of some sorts. Creating new paints, and colours that weren’t even on the rainbow brought you so much joy and gave vibrancy to your life. It gave you purpose, something you were grateful for.

Orders had been pouring into the shop since the Travelling Market. Receiving commissions far and wide, meant no day was quiet. You welcomed the work that fuelled your creativity. As you meticulously worked on the final touches of your latest order, Adon's voice broke the concentration, announcing the arrival of a large delivery for Feyre.

With a light sigh from being pulled out of your work midway, you set aside your brushes and turned to see Adon standing at the door, a sheepish expression on his face as he gestured towards the cart filled with supplies. It was rammed with canvases, an easel, brushes and other tools that you were sure Feyre already had.

"I need you to deliver these to the House of Wind," he requested, holding out a box of paints that seemed to be part of the order.

Strange.

Feyre always got her things delivered to River house or her studio in the artist quarter. Who were you to question though. She was High Lady, she could paint wherever her heart pleased.

You nod to Adon, "No worries, I'll just finish up this order and be on my way."

You were sure to finish off your latest commission, signing off the delivery to be sent to Autumn court.

As you wiped your hands, stained with various liquids and powders, on your overalls, you hoisted the box of paints onto your right shoulder, securing your grip on its top. With a playful tilt of your head, you directed your attention to Adon's cart.

"You’re gonna need legs for this one" you quipped with a small smile, gesturing toward the cart.

Understanding your jest, the wooden cart let out a series of groans and creaks as it transformed. Planks of wood shifted and contorted beneath it, forming two wooden long legs that gracefully held up the container of supplies.

Adon’s inventions were always a treasure of yours. You loved every single thing he created. Always finding a solution to a problem in the most unique way. His creations were a little unconventional, an acquired taste– but you loved them all the same.

Adon and your family had always got along. Inventors, creators, artists; always had a way of finding one another. A grin spread across your face as you watched the magical cart faithfully follow behind you, its load of art supplies in tow.

With the box of paints slung over your shoulder and the magical cart clomping behind you, you quickly winnowed yourself and the cart to the bottom of the stairs of the House of wind. The ascent was long and tiring, the cart creaking behind you with each step as if groaning in agreement. Nonetheless, you pressed on, each step bringing you closer to the top of winding stairs above.

You hadn’t visited the House of Wind before, though you knew it was home to Azriel, Cassian, and Nesta. As you climbed, you couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to see where your mate lived, to catch a glimpse into a part of his life that you hadn't yet experienced.

What did his bedroom look like? How had he chosen to decorate his sanctuary? You imagined him amidst his personal haven, perhaps surrounded by books. You always found him rummaging through your collection whenever he visited you.

Azriel had described the breathtaking view from the House of Wind, mentioning how Velaris looked like a radiant jewel at night from this vantage point. You would love to experience that firsthand with him by your side.

Azriel had frequented your apartment numerous times, often citing the need for privacy away from his family. Yet, a nagging worry lingered in your mind—that perhaps you weren't entirely welcome. You noted the absence of Cassian and Mor since your initial encounter, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you might not be fully embraced within their circle. With this being Cassian’s home too, maybe you weren’t welcome here.

You had been working to mend bridges, taking steps to forge a stronger connection with Azriel’s family. Attending Feyre’s painting classes was your first effort, an easier one as you and Feyre were already friendly acquaintances and had a common passion for art. It was clear though that Feyre appreciated your efforts, especially considering the tension that had surfaced after her sister's outburst at the brunch. She had confided in you that she was worried that it may have caused a rift, but you assured her that was all water under the bridge. You even hoped with time you, Elain and Azriel could all be on better terms.

Feyre had smiled at that when you told her, and she’d made a point one evening when the inner circle had gone out to Ritas to tell Azriel how much she liked you.

You were desperate to see what life he had behind these walls– and of course, everything outside of these walls. You wanted to explore every aspect of Azriel’s life. The recent challenges in your relationship had been daunting, yet you couldn’t deny how much closer it had brought you together.

You were really beginning to feel like a unified pair.

Ten weeks ago, the enigmatic Shadowsinger had been a mere acquaintance, a figure shrouded in mystery. But in this brief span of time, you had already unravelled the layers of one another. Learning, growing and figuring out how to trust.

And you wanted more of it.

You hadn’t accepted the bond yet, in fact neither of you had even discussed that. But one thing was becoming clear, you wanted Azriel in your life. The desire to intertwine your destinies grew stronger with each passing moment. Whether that be spent in your apartment, exploring the depths of your power together, or the late-night walks down the winding Sidra, hand in hand. When he surprises you with your favourite pastries to coax you away from your work or those tender moments when your lips meet his that give you a sense of completeness.

You wanted it all and more.

You just needed to let him know.

As you reached the top of the stairs, you were met with the imposing sight of the grand doors of the House of Wind. Crafted from rich, dark wood and adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes of the mountains beyond the court, the doors stood tall and powerful.

Hesitating for a moment, you stole a glance at the magical cart, which creaked awkwardly on its newly formed legs. With a slight chuckle, you steadied yourself and approached the doors. Raising your hand, you rapped your knuckles against the sturdy wood, the sound echoing through the house.

As the grand doors swung open at your gentle knock, you called out for Feyre, but the only response was the hollow echo of your voice reverberating through the vast space. Undeterred, you stepped inside, the sound of your footsteps echoing on the stone floor as the creaking cart followed closely behind.

"Hello, anyone here? I've got a delivery," you called out again, your voice carrying through the silence of the empty halls.

How peculiar.

No one seemed to be around.

As you ventured further into the house, you couldn't help but marvel at its grandeur, realising just how humble the River House seemed in comparison. And River House was not humble by any means. It really highlighted the multitude of wealth they had, wealth they deserved, of course. It was their court, after all. But still, it was a stark difference to the tiny apartment you rented, which, at times, felt too small for both you and Azriel when he visited.

Each room you passed seemed to exude luxury and elegance, from the richly decorated walls adorned with exquisite paintings to the lavish furnishings.

It was all beautiful. But you preferred your cosy apartment– with it’s crooked walls and low ceilings.

Entering a spacious room with an open door, you noticed a few canvases leaning against the wall, indicating that this might be another one of Feyre's studios – or at least you hoped so. You had called out numerous times, even calling out for Azriel and his shadows in case he was around. You didn’t want to appear snooping, but with no one to greet you, you really needed to get back to your workshop.

Placing the box of paints in the centre of the room, you turned to address the magical cart, which had faithfully followed you every step of the way. Its wooden form creaked softly as it shifted.

"I guess we'll just leave them here for her," you said, turning your attention back to the cart, ready to start unloading its contents. But before you could even begin, the cart suddenly jumped, startling you.

"What in the cauldron!” You exclaimed with a fright, you knew Adon’s inventions could be quirky, but this behaviour was odd– even for him. “What is wrong with you?" you asked, frustration creeping into your voice as you tried to make sense of the cart's erratic behaviour.

Stepping closer to the cart again to try and pry a tool out, it quickly creaked towards the open door, its wooden legs trembling slightly as if hesitant to comply with your command.

As it reached the doorway, it turned to you as if giving you one last glance before quickly running out. The doors slammed shut with a resounding thud, leaving you trapped inside.

You felt the energy of the room shift, the goosebumps rising under your skin. Clutching your arms, you rolled lightly on your feet, trying to dispel the growing unease.

"Feyre... was that you?" You nervously called out with a light laugh, attempting to lighten the tension that had settled in the air.

Perhaps she was playing a trick on you?

Maybe. But something didn’t feel right, that feeling– that instinct was telling you to leave. Before your feet could carry you towards the shut door a familiar voice broke.

"I'm afraid my beautiful mate isn't here right now," the voice said, sending a shiver down your spine as you recognised it instantly.

You turned slowly towards the voice. "Oh... hello, Rhys," you managed to say, trying to sound casual despite the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest. "I'm just here to deliver an order... but I'm really sorry, half of it has just run off," you added with a nervous chuckle, gesturing over your shoulder to where the magical cart had disappeared.

As Rhys stepped out from the corner where he had seemingly been concealed by glamour, you couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. Glancing back at the closed door, your nerves spiked even further when you saw Amren standing there, her expression unreadable.

Your instincts screamed at you that this encounter was anything but ordinary. It wasn’t Feyre who had asked you to deliver, you realised, an unsettling feeling sinking in your gut. For a moment, you felt like a deer trapped between her prey.

They had lured you here.

The uncertainty gnawed at you, and you found yourself tensing, trying to keep your composure as Rhys and Amren closed in on you. Facing your High Lord, you attuned your senses to Amren, who stood by the door behind you.

She was blocking it, guarding it, to stop you from leaving.

“I better go retrieve the rest of Feyre’s order,” you smiled lightly, testing where you stood in this. Rhys only half-smiled in return. Amren hadn’t moved from her spot, and you knew there was no way you were getting past her.

“You know, I never would have known. All these years, your family has slipped through the cracks,” Rhys said, walking now, slowly circling you.

Not entirely true.

Just like Azriel, it was clear Rhys was completely unaware how his own father had used your father in the war.

“Your family did a great job hiding themselves for all these years. Gods, I didn’t even know your kind existed,” he chuckled darkly, his imposing presence exuding an authority you hadn't experienced when you met him among his family and with Azriel prior.

You didn’t reply, only glanced slightly over your shoulder to Amren. She stood stiff, her expression still the same.

“If you had chosen anything other than a spider... well, I wouldn’t have known anything was amiss.” Rhys continued. “What an incy, wincy mistake.” he chided, and you felt your jaw clench at his slight mocking tone.

“You see, around 300 years ago, I put up a ward on River House. For Mor. She hates spiders, detests the creatures, and would beg me to eliminate them from the Night Court altogether. For her birthday one year, I granted her the gift of a particular ward that doesn’t allow them in any of our homes. River House, her apartment, here…” he trailed off, lifting his hands in the air gesturing to the house you were now standing in.

You'd made a grave mistake. The innocent creation of that little spider, once a mere impulsive act, now weighed heavily as regret seeped in. The consequences of that fleeting decision were far greater than you had anticipated. It wasn't necessary; it was merely a childish impulse, a fleeting desire to provoke a reaction from Elain. Yet, that seemingly innocuous choice had now jeopardised everything you held dear.

The walls you had painstakingly built to protect yourself and the promise you had made to your father were crumbling before your eyes.

"Of course, this isn't widely known, so only Mor and I would have been aware of any intrusions in my home. And well when trying to figure out why this creature was in my home I realised the only new variable in the equation was you" Rhysand explained, his tone laced with a darkness that unnerved you.

“Rhysand…your High Lord, you’ve got this all wrong…” you interjected, stumbling over your words as you desperately tried to change the narrative. Deep down though, you knew that it was too late.

“I wouldn’t have known what you were, but luckily, lovely Amren here clocked onto something too.”

“Your blood,” she spoke flatly, as you recalled the nosebleed that had come after creating your first creation from your mind’s eye. “My senses aren’t as particular as they were before, but when I smelt your blood, I recognised something ancient.”

“You’ve got it all wrong…” you countered, hoping to stall for time while you formulated a plan.

“Oh I don’t believe we do.” Rhys declared. He stood a metre in front of you now, his stature intimidating, and you desperately fought against stepping back. You needed to hold your own, but you were feeling out of your depth.

Scared, ambushed and outnumbered.

"Your bloodline is rare," Amren remarked, her voice carrying a hint of intrigue. "And your kind are secretive. I never thought I'd meet one of you in my lifetime."

You remained silent, watching their every move.

But Amren's flat tone cut through the air like a blade. "I believe you're a Glyphic. Or more commonly known, a Veilweaver," she stated matter-of-factly, sending shivers down your spine at the names you hadn't heard yourself be called in centuries.

Rhysand, however, was less intrigued. "You've been living in my court undetected," he accused, his voice laced with irritation. "Deception is not something I take lightly."

Was it the deceit that troubled him more, or the realisation that your powers were beyond his ability to detect?

"I've never caused any problems..." you began, your words faltering as you tried to mount a defence.

"Yet," Rhys interjected sharply, cutting off your protest. His gaze bore into you with an intensity that made you squirm. "Veilweavers are powerful and dangerous," Rhys continued, his tone unwavering. "And I need to ensure you're not a threat to my court—or my brother."

As Rhysand advanced, his talons reached out, probing against your mental defences in an attempt to breach your mind. With every ounce of strength you possessed, you pushed back, feeling the strain of the effort as you fought to keep him out.

They didn't suspect that Azriel knew your secret, a realisation that weighed heavily upon you. What would they do if they discovered he had kept this from them? Azriel, the Spymaster of the Night Court, had always prioritised his court and family above all else. But now, for the first time, there was someone he would choose to protect above all others.

You.

You couldn't allow Rhysand to breach your mind.

Rhys lunged forward, his mental talons clawing at the barriers of your mind, seeking to break your defences. In a moment of desperation and self-preservation, you called forth a creature to defend yourself.

You reached into the depths of your mind to summon your power, a surge of energy rippled through your being, tingling at your fingertips like electric currents dancing along your skin. In your mind's eye, you saw flashes of vivid imagery, intricate patterns swirling and shifting with ethereal grace. It was as if you were tapping into a hidden realm, a reservoir of ancient magic waiting to be unleashed.

Yet, beneath the awe-inspiring beauty, there was a subtle undercurrent of unease, a whisper of uncertainty that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness. You were standing against your High Lord–your mates brother.

You had to protect yourself though. Protect your mind, and the secret Azriel had kept from his High Lord.

In this moment, as you conjured forth your guardian, you pushed aside those doubts. The black sleek panther materialised with a fluid grace, its form exuding strength and determination, a sentinel ready to defend you against any threat.

The air crackled with tension as Rhysand and Amren exchanged a knowing glance, their previous suspicions confirmed by the display of your power. Their expressions shifted, morphing into a mixture of wariness as they assessed the situation before them.

Amren couldn't conceal the faint smirk that tugged at the corners of her lips as she regarded you and the magnificent creature you had summoned. You were exactly what she had suspected, a Glyphic with untapped potential and formidable abilities.

With a menacing growl, your panther confronted Rhysand, causing him to momentarily retract his mental talons. However, his resolve remained steadfast.

"Rhys, please. Can we talk this out?" You pleaded, desperation lacing your words as you locked eyes with him, searching for any glimmer of understanding or mercy. Your heart raced with fear and uncertainty. You didn't want to fight them, didn't want to inflict harm, nor be harmed in return. But above all, you were determined to protect the sanctity of your mind, a territory that was yours alone– and of course protect Azriel.

For a fleeting moment, it seemed as though Rhys's steely gaze softened, a hint of the warmth you had glimpsed in him during your encounters at River House. But just as quickly, it vanished, replaced by an impenetrable mask.

There was no Rhys here, no. Only the Lord of the Night.

Your hands trembled at your sides, the strain of maintaining your creation evident in every tense muscle of your body. Beads of sweat trickled down your temple, mirroring the intensity of your concentration as you fought to keep your panther strong and fighting. Despite the chaos and danger surrounding you, there was a strange beauty in the powerful presence of your manifestation. If circumstances were different, you might have felt a swell of pride at what you had achieved.

Azriel would be proud too.

Azriel, your mate. Your beautiful mate.

Who you didn’t deserve.

All you could feel was guilt and despair. The troubles and problems you had brought him, he deserved someone better. Someone like Elain.

Rhys was watching over you. Your heavy breaths, your clenched fists and scared gaze. As much as Rhys may have wanted to extend you the benefit of the doubt, the stakes were too high, the risks too great.

He couldn’t trust your word, he had to know for himself.

Rhysand made another attempt to breach your mind, his talons digging deep in a relentless pursuit. In response, your panther sprang into action, launching itself at Rhysand with a primal ferocity. Yet, before it could reach its target, Rhysand unleashed a surge of magic, sending the panther hurtling across the room with a powerful force.

You shouldn't have been surprised; after all, it was only the second time you had conjured a creature from your mind's eye. Inexperienced in the art of combat, you had never faced such a dire situation before. You were no match for them.

But a small part of you had hoped that maybe your fathers strength was somewhere lingering within you. Just waiting to be unleashed.

You were wrong.

As Rhysand's magic collided with your manifestation, the impact reverberated through your own body like a physical blow. There was a sickening snap as your panther was hurled against the wall, its body twisting unnaturally upon impact. The sound of bone breaking echoed in your ears, and you couldn't suppress a strangled scream as searing pain lanced through your own being.

Tears welled in your eyes as you collapsed to the ground, the pain radiating from your body in pulsating waves. Every breath felt like a struggle, each heartbeat a reminder of the bond you shared with the creature now lying broken before you. The panther's breaths synced with yours, while you tried to muster your strength to get it back on its feet.

You recalled the memories of your father's teachings. He had always been your guiding light, imparting his wisdom and cautioning you about the dangers of your power. But after that fateful night, when the darkness had consumed you as a child and birthed a beast of anger, he had grown distant with his knowledge, shielding you from the full extent of your abilities.

That night you created the beast, your father had intervened, severing the connection between you and the creature with a pain that echoed through your very being. It was a harsh lesson, one that left scars emotionally.

In the aftermath, he had spoken of a way to disconnect yourself from your creations' pain, a method that required time and dedication to master. Something you had actively avoided doing because of his promise, you’re not sure if he ever realised how detrimental that promise would end up being for you.

Your creations were an extension of your own power, their pain intertwined with yours in a delicate dance of symbiosis. Without mastering this crucial aspect of your abilities, you would forever be shackled by the limitations of your own creations.

There was no way to sever yourself from this agony, and you lacked the strength to mend and revive your creation. Your only choice was to sever the bond, and as you did, the magnificent panther dissolved into the air, fading away along with the pain of it’s demise.

"Rhys…" Amren hissed, her hand outstretched in a futile attempt to halt him as she observed how effortlessly Rhys had subdued the formidable beast. They had misjudged the situation entirely. Expecting a powerful force, they were instead faced with you– a broken female, unable to rise to her feet.

Rhys's expression faltered, his resolve wavering momentarily as he hesitated to approach. But before he could make a move, the room was engulfed in shadow, familiar tendrils enveloping your body and vision. You recognised the cool touch of the shadows attempting to draw you into their embrace.

A tear slipped down your face and you shivered under their whispered kisses. You felt your own shadow curl up by your face to comfort you.

Through the shroud of darkness, Azriel had burst into the room, his presence commanding and protective. With a forceful shove, he knocked Amren off balance and launched himself at Rhysand, the two of them colliding with a resounding crash as they tumbled into the wall in a rough and chaotic struggle.

"I’m going to kill you, Rhys!" Azriel's voice thundered with fury, a darkness in his hazel eyes Rhys had never experienced before.

Taken aback by Azriel's sudden aggression, Rhysand attempted to interject with an explanation, but Azriel silenced him with a swift, powerful punch that connected squarely with his jaw. Rhys staggered backward, his hand flying to his face as he recoiled from the blow.

Azriel surged forward with unparalleled strength, his muscles coiled with the raw intensity of his fury. With a swift motion, he seized his brother by the throat, their bodies rocketing upwards until they collided with the ceiling in a deafening crash. The ancient stone quivered under the force of their impact, dislodging dust and debris.

Rhysand fought against Azriel's grasp, his attempts to explain drowned out by the primal rage burning in his brother's eyes. At that moment, Azriel wanted nothing but retribution.

He wanted blood.

He had felt your panic echoing through the bond, a visceral tug that had torn him away from his duties in the Illyrian camps.

As soon as the sensation had washed over him, he knew something was wrong. His instincts honed in on your distress, guiding him unerringly toward the House of Wind. With Cassian at his side, he had winnowed as close as possible before bursting into the house.

It was the sound of your scream that had pierced through him. Physically and mentally sending a wave of fear through him, turning his blood cold as he raced towards you.

Blood was drawn as shards of stone lacerated the brothers skin, leaving trails of crimson in their wake. Azriel's shadows danced around them, swirling with unrestrained fury as he fought his High Lord.

With a primal roar, Azriel seized Rhysand by the shoulders, his wings beating with a furious rhythm as he drove them both downward. They plummeted toward the unforgiving stone floor, their descent hastened by the force of Azriel's relentless assault.

Rhysand had endured Azriel's onslaught, absorbing blow after blow with a heavy heart. Rhys had refused to retaliate. He couldn't bring himself to harm his own brother, even in the midst of their heated conflict.

Yet, as Azriel's relentless assault continued, Rhysand knew he had to act. With a surge, he summoned his magic, channelling it into a devastating blast that sent Azriel staggering backward.

"I thought she could have been a threat to our court," Rhys began, his voice strained with the weight of his words. He wanted Azriel to understand, to see the danger he believed you posed.

But before he could elaborate further, Cassian burst into the fray, positioning himself between the warring brothers like a stalwart shield. He could see the venom dripping from Azriel's eyes, the sheer intensity of his rage.

"She is not a threat," Azriel spat, his words dripping with conviction.

Rhys opened his mouth to respond, to plead his case once more, but then it clicked. As the realisation dawned on him, it echoed through the chamber like a thunderous revelation. Cassian's expression mirrored his own.

Betrayal.

"You already knew..." Rhys's voice wavered, the sting of betrayal lacing every syllable. His brother had been keeping your secret all along, hiding the truth from him and from his court.

“Of course I knew, brother,” Azriel almost laughed, his tone tinged with a mix of frustration and resignation. “She is my mate.”

“You should have told us,” Rhys growled, his anger simmering beneath the surface. Cassian shot him a warning look, silently urging him to remain calm.

Regardless of what Azriel had withheld, Rhys had caused harm to Azriel’s mate– you. Someone who by the looks of it was completely helpless against him.

“My duty as spymaster is to protect the court. Keeping this from you, doesn't change that,” Azriel growled, his stance unwavering.

As tensions escalated, Rhys and Azriel found themselves locked in a heated exchange. Cassian intervened, pushing them apart before things could escalate further. “You will not fight over this,” Cassian hissed, his voice firm and commanding.

Meanwhile, Amren shook her head in disbelief, a dawning realisation settling over her features. "She is a danger, though," Amren spoke up, her words carrying an unexpected truth. "She's weak," she concluded bluntly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

You flinched at the assessment, feeling a pang of insecurity at the criticism.

Since disolving your creation, the pain had largely subsided, but a dull ache lingered in your head, and your body felt weary and drained. Amren's words rang true. You felt weak, you were weak. Centuries had passed without honing your ability. You were nothing like your ancestors or your father. You weren’t a force to be reckoned with.

"If a Daemati broke into her mind, took hold of her powers, gods know the chaos that would ensue," Rhysand understood instantly by what Amren warned, his tone grave.

You mulled over their words, the weight of their implications sinking in. Your years of hiding your abilities had left you unprepared and vulnerable, a potential threat to those around you. You had always feared your powers, but now it seemed that your lack of control made you vulnerable to manipulation and exploitation.

Your father had wanted you to lay low, so you wouldn’t be found.But you were now left too weak to defend yourself if someone did want to exploit you.

"Don't think for a second that as soon as others find out she's your mate, that she won't instantly have a target on her back," Rhysand continued grimly. "And if the wrong person realises what she is..."

"We're doomed," Amren finished, her expression grave as she contemplated the dire consequences of your revelation.

As Amren's words sink in, snapping Azriel out of his murderous gaze directed at Rhys, to contemplate what she had just revealed to him.

An oversight on his part. But what Amren had said was true.

The tension in the room eased slightly, and you feel the shadows enveloping you, aiding you as you rise to your feet. They offer silent support, keeping you steady.

For the first time since entering the room, Azriel's gaze shifts from his brothers to you. His eyes, usually so intense and focused, soften as he takes in your scared and bewildered expression. Without hesitation, he moves away from Rhysand and Cassian, striding purposefully toward you.

As Azriel reaches you, he pulls you into a protective embrace, his wings wrapping around you like a shield. You lean into his comforting presence, feeling the tension drain from your body as his warmth surrounds you. His lips press gently against the top of your head.

In that moment, everything else fades away, leaving only you and Azriel locked in an embrace.

"Where are you hurt?" His voice is soft and gentle, filled with genuine concern. You shake your head, unable to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions raging inside you. The physical pain may have subsided with the disappearance of your panther, but the emotional turmoil still lingered.

You felt the tears slowly start to roll down your face, and soft cry finally leaving your lips now in the safety of Azriel.

Azriel pulls back slightly, his hands cupping your face "It's okay my love" he whispers, his voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves. "I've got you."

At his reassurance, you lean into Azriel's chest, trying to stifle the cry that wells up inside you. Fear and worry wash over you as you recall the events that led to this moment.

Cassian watches with concern as Azriel comforts you, exchanging a bewildered glance with Rhys, silently questioning how things escalated to this point. Amren's expression remains stoic, but a hint of guilt flickers in her eyes, easily missed if one didn't know where to look.

"I didn't mean for things to escalate this way. We thought... I got it wrong," Rhys spoke, his voice laced with regret as he attempted to bridge the growing chasm between him and his brother.

Azriel's snarl cut through the air, his eyes narrowing with barely contained fury at Rhys's attempts to explain away his actions.

"I want them out," Azriel declared, his tone firm as he turned to Cassian, seeking support in his decision.

Though it was Cassian and Nesta's home, technically no one could demand the High Lord to leave anywhere in his court. Cassian glanced between Rhys and Amren, considering the situation carefully.

"I think it's best you leave for now," Cassian finally agreed, his voice steady as he made the difficult decision to ask Rhys and Amren to depart, at least temporarily, in order to diffuse the tension.

Rhys, though visibly disappointed, nods in acquiescence, understanding the need to de-escalate the situation. Amren's expression remains inscrutable, but she follows Rhys's lead without protest.

As they turn to leave, Rhys casts a lingering glance in your direction, his eyes conveying a mixture of apology and concern. Azriel, still holding you protectively in his arms, watches them go with a steely resolve, his jaw clenched.

Once Rhys and Amren depart, Cassian releases a heavy sigh, the tension in the room easing slightly. He shifts his gaze to you and Azriel, his expression softening with concern.

"Is there anything I can do Az?" he asks, genuine worry etched into his features. Azriel shakes his head, there was nothing Cassian could do to change what had occurred, to fix the damage between Azriel and Rhys. Nothing.

The only thing Azriel knew he could do was make you feel better. So that was his priority.

~~~

As Azriel guides you through the labyrinth of corridors of the House of Wind, the shadows cling to you protectively, reluctant to release their hold as if fearing they may never reunite with you. Eventually, you reach a door that yields effortlessly to Azriel's touch, unveiling a room bathed in gentle, muted light.

The space is expansive yet cosy, its walls cloaked in opulent hues of midnight blue and charcoal grey. The air carries a subtle fragrance of sandalwood and cedar, a scent uniquely Azriel's. Its familiar aroma envelops you, instantly calming your senses.

Against one wall looms a colossal four-poster bed, its imposing ebony frame swathed in cascading layers of sumptuous silk and velvet. The sheer size of it dwarfs your own bed by comparison, a necessity to accommodate those expansive Illyrian wings. Azriel must have been so uncomfortable staying at yours all those nights.

In one corner of the room, a large desk sits bathed in moonlight, its surface cluttered with scrolls, books, and various trinkets. A dimly glowing orb hovers above it, casting a soft glow over the room and illuminating Azriel's meticulous handwriting scrawled across the parchment.

Above his desk, shelves displayed an eclectic assortment of trinkets: a meticulously carved wooden box adorned with intricate designs, an assortment of books—some familiar to you, yet seemingly untouched, while others appeared brand new.

In one corner, four small jars of paint caught your attention. Your paints. You hadn't realised he had obtained them, and a furrow formed between your brows as you pondered when he might have acquired them. Shadow Serenade, Velvet Veil, Starry Whispers, Nightfall Cries. These were the shades you had created in that first week after the bond had snapped. You remembered how thoughts of the Shadowsigner had consumed you to a point of it channelling out into your work. Each jar held a hue evocative of the Spymaster himself. He of course knew about Shadow Serenade, but how he had come to acquire the other shades you weren’t so sure.

You pondered if perhaps you had a secret customer in him. The paints shimmered within their glass containers, casting ethereal light across the room.

On the opposite side, a cosy seating area beckons with plush armchairs and a low, velvet-covered chaise lounge. A small fireplace crackles softly in the corner, casting flickering shadows across the room and adding to the room's warm ambiance.

“The bath is ready for you” Azriel spoke, breaking you away from your lingering glances across his room and belongings. “I thought a hot bath would make you feel better” He continued, gently guiding you into his wash room.

A large ornate tub sat in the centre of the room, steam rising from the water nearly to the brim. You noticed the unique shape of the tub, clearly designed to accommodate Azriel's massive wings.

For a fleeting moment, you imagined what it would be like to share this space with Azriel.

Bathe with him.

As if reading your mind, your own little shadow curled round your ear.

Ask him to join you.

You instantly blushed at the notion, wafting away the naughty little creation, as you hoped Azriel or his own shadows hadn’t heard.

You swore you heard it giggle before it resumed its quiet chanting of praises towards your mate. But Azriel remained unchanged, his face still etched with concern, his priority seemingly you and your well-being.

"Clothes for you to change into are here," he continued, gesturing towards a set of garments. "I'll be just outside."

Azriel paused, allowing you a moment to take in your surroundings. Your gaze settled on the clothes neatly laid out, an arrangement you assumed was the work of his shadows, before you gave him a small nod of acknowledgment. As he left, closing the door to the washroom behind him, you took a moment to study yourself in the mirror. The reflection revealed tear-stained cheeks and a wearied expression.

Gods, you looked a mess. No wonder Azriel had suggested a wash.

Despite being the one involved in the altercation, he only had a few scratches and dust on his clothing, he still looked as beautiful as ever—strong and defiant. You, on the other hand, looked quite the opposite. As you peeled off your overalls, the fabric clinging to your skin with a thin layer of sweat accumulated during the exertion of your abilities.

You hadn't realised how much you needed a hot bath, but it turned out to be the perfect remedy to wash away the anxieties of what had happened earlier. Sinking your whole body into the warm water, with just enough to keep your nose above the surface, you allowed the hot water to soothe the aches of your body.

You’re not sure how long you stayed there, but regardless of the duration, the water didn’t cool. It was hot and toasty– thanks to the house’s magic you assumed.

Once you were dry, you slipped into the clothes left on the side for you. It wasn’t until you were halfway through pulling the shirt over your head that you realised it must have belonged to Azriel. The size and the two slits down the back panels designed to accommodate his wings were dead giveaways. The faint scent of his laundry detergent lingered, a comforting familiarity that enveloped you as you dressed.

Tugging on the loose jersey pants and cinching the drawstring around your waist, another of Azriel’s clothing you assumed. Although you’d never seen him wear something so casual before, and it made you want to see this part of him even more.The thought of a more relaxed Azriel, lounging around his bedroom in sweats with a book in hand, intrigued you. It made you hungry for a version of him you hadn’t experienced yet.

You returned to the bedroom, a sense of calm now settled after your bath. As you moved into the armchair by the fireplace, Azriel approaches with a tray of food in hand. His expression is determined, yet there's a tenderness in his eyes that speaks volumes.

"I want you to eat," he says firmly, his voice tinged with concern. You hesitate, glancing at the tray of food he’s arranged. A hot bowl of soup, with slices of fresh warm bread on the side.

It smelt delicious.

Plates with slices of cheeses and meats with grapes, and other sliced fruits adorned the tray. It looked delightful, but you weren’t really sure you had an appetite after everything that had happened.

"I don't think I'm hungry," you murmur softly, your gaze dropping to the floor.

"Don't make me force-feed you," Azriel responds, his tone gentle yet firm. Your brows raised slightly at his statement, and he sighed with a soft smile “I’m driving myself crazy here, I just need to know you’re okay. I’ll feel better when I know you’ve eaten something. What you went through…was intense” he admitted, his protective instincts clearly in overdrive.

You nod slowly, understanding his concern, and reluctantly take the plate from the tray. Despite your lack of appetite, you decide that a few spoonfuls of soup won’t hurt. And if it can ease your mate's worry, then you’d do it for him.

Balancing the tray on your lap, you scoop up a spoonful of soup and bring it to your lips. The flavours dance on your tongue, surprisingly rich and satisfying. Despite not feeling hungry just moments ago, the warm, wholesome meal feels comforting and perks your appetite.

Across from you, Azriel settles into his armchair, his gaze unwavering. As you finish the last spoonful of soup and dip a piece of bread into the bowl, a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, relief evident in his eyes.

You set the tray back on the low coffee table in front of you, popping a grape into your mouth before finally glancing up at your mate. You hoped to see satisfaction in his expression, a sense of relief that you had nourished yourself enough. However, when you met his gaze, a sadness lurked in his eyes, tugging at your heartstrings.

"I was so scared," he confesses suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper. "When I felt your fear through the bond, and then when I heard you scream... I thought I was going to lose you."

His words hung heavy in the air, and your expression dropped as you swiftly moved to comfort your mate. Seeking solace in each other, he drew you closer, pulling you onto his lap with a tender embrace. As he buried his face into the side of your neck, you whispered softly, your voice filled with gratitude, "I would have felt the same if it was you." Your breath caught as you expressed the depth of your emotions. The mere thought of Azriel being hurt, of him being in danger, stirred a visceral reaction within you, a gut-wrenching turmoil.

The bond that tethered you both together was profound and all-encompassing. You understood, with unwavering certainty, that you would do anything for this male. You would protect him, even at the cost of your own life.

Just as he had threatened Rhys. You would kill for Azriel. And you would also die for him.

Azriel's gaze softened as he looked at you, his scarred hand cupping your cheek gently, his thumb tracing soothing circles.

“Thank you” you whispered “For coming for me.”

“Always” He said deeply, your forehead resting against his as you straddled him.

Your lips naturally found their place on his. A kiss quickly deepened at the raw magnitude of what had happened today. The fear Azriel had experienced, the dread of losing you, had gripped him with a relentless force. He never wanted to face that possibility.

Despite the truth in Amren's words, acknowledging your vulnerabilities and limitations, at this moment, all Azriel desired was to cherish what he feared he might have lost.

There was an unspoken understanding, a silent exchange echoing down the bond, as you felt Azriel's desperation and the depth of his fear. You longed to assuage his anxiety, to offer him solace and reassurance.

Pulling back slightly from the kiss, your breaths mingling in the quiet intimacy of the moment, Azriel regarded you with darkened hazel eyes, silently anticipating your next move. A familiar look passed between you, one laden with unspoken desire that had lingered unexplored until now. With a gentle touch, you took his hand and guided him to his bed, wordlessly conveying your intentions as you led him to his plush sheets.

Azriel bit back a low guttural growl, watching as you climbed onto his bed.

You lay on his bed, draped on his sheets, wearing his clothes. It was an image he wanted to etch into his memory forever.

“There’s never been any pressure, no expectations,” he whispered, standing at the side as if seeking reassurance of your intentions.

No expectations.

He had promised you that after the bond snapped, and he had stayed true to his word. Always the gentleman, never pressuring you. Always moving at your pace.

“I know Azriel” you breathed, in a way that spoke of permission.

Azriel took a breath, steadying himself as he comprehended the significance of your invitation before climbing over you. He hovered over you, settling his weight above, his presence reassuring and protective. Your head sank into the plush pillows beneath, and he moved over you with a predatory grace.

“I was so worried I was going to lose you today…” he breathed. Your hand had come to caress the side of his neck, pulling his face closer to you.

“There was a moment I realised too that if I lost you today…” You were watching him, as his desire filled eyes turned darker “I would have lost you without ever having the chance to taste you”

His confession sent a shiver down your spine, goosebumps covering your body under his clothes you were wearing. Your nipples perked at his words, rubbing against the fabric.

“Then thank the cauldron you didn’t lose me…” You breathed playfully back, your face hot at his words. He let out a low laugh.

“Thank the cauldron indeed” He purred, leaning in to press his lips against yours. His lips slowly move down your neck, leaving flushed kisses on your skin. His fingers tugged at his shirt on you, hastily unbuttoning the black material till your breasts were exposed to him.

You thought you saw him almost choke on his breath at the sight.

His hazel eyes lighting with glint you hadn’t seen before.

“You are beautiful my love” he breathed, his voice husky with desire. The sound of his words made your heart race, the intensity of his gaze causing a surge of heat to pool in your core.

Azriel's lips trailed down from your neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake. As he reached your exposed breasts, he hesitated for a moment, his eyes locking with yours, seeking permission. The air crackled with anticipation as you nodded, giving him silent consent.

His touch was gentle yet possessive as he cupped your breast in his scarred large hand, his thumb grazing over your nipple. A soft gasp escaped your lips at the sensation, and Azriel's eyes darkened with desire. Leaning down, he placed a heated kiss on each of your peaks, his tongue flicking out to tease before sucking gently.

You bit your lip lightly, to try and compose any sound that dared leave your lips.

“Don’t be shy my love, I want to hear you” Azriel smirked slightly, as he watched your lips then part with his words. A breathy moan escaping your lips.

Azriel could feel his own heat rush to his member, it was hard and pressing tightly against his trousers, but he continued on. Trailing kisses lower down your body, his breath hot against your skin. Each touch sent sparks of pleasure coursing through you, igniting a hunger that had been simmering between you both.

You’re not sure how you had resisted for so long. You had felt the desire mounting with every kiss you had shared before, and now you hated yourself a little for depriving yourself of this.

You could feel his rough fingers tugging at the drawband of your pants, slowly pulling them down over your hip bone. He looked at you one last time before completely removing them, leaving you completely exposed to him.

Lying exposed beneath him, you could feel his eyes devouring every inch of your naked body. He was mesmerised by every crevice, curve, freckle, and scar that marked your skin. Grateful to have you, he couldn't help but touch and explore you - his mate, completely and utterly his.

His gaze lingered over your slick folds, glistening with a wetness that was just for him. The scent of you drove him wild, though he had only experienced it a few times before during those intimate moments that always finished too early. It took all of his self-control not to ravish you then and there.

But now, he could. You had given yourself to him in this way, completely and utterly his. His hazel eyes lingered for another moment, a softness in his gaze as he admired your flushed face. Hair sprawled beneath your head.

You had a coy look in your eyes, being so vulnerable and open in front of him. Azriel was grateful you trusted him enough for this, he was going to cherish every moment.

His fingers traced the curve of your hip, you arched your back, inviting him closer. A low growl rumbled in his chest as his gaze locked with yours, promising that this was just the beginning. With a predatory grace, he leaned down and placed a soft, warm kiss on your inner thigh.

You shivered at the contact, your breath hitching as his lips continued to travel lower, leaving a trail of warmth and desire in their wake.

His fingers danced over your flesh, tracing the delicate lines of your thighs, his touch feather-light as he explored every inch. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing loudly that at one point you felt as though that was all you could hear.

You were sure he could sense your arousal through the bond, and you almost sent a begging plea down the thread for him to touch you.

With a playful glint in his eyes, as if understanding, his lips finally reached their destination, your core. You felt a wave of intensity wash over you. You bit your lip, trying to suppress a moan that quickly left your lips, as his tongue danced across your sensitive flesh. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open, allowing him complete access.

Azriel's tongue dipped into you, savouring the taste of you, his eyes never leaving yours. You arched your back, your nails digging into the pillow beneath you as his tongue probed deeper, coaxing a soft cry from your lips.

Azriel wanted to hear that cry more. Every day, at any moment he could get. He wanted to hear those sounds leave your lips. A sound he would never tire of.

The pleasure built, a fierce storm of emotion that threatened to consume you whole. Your heart pounded wildly, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as his tongue stroked and teased.

He plunged his fingers inside you, filling you completely. The intensity of the sensation was overwhelming, causing you to cry out his name.

“Azriel…oh Az…”

When he heard his name leave your lips he had to stop himself from cumming at the sound. He was completely drunk on the taste and smell of you, that the sound of you almost sent him over the edge.

Azriel's fingers moved in and out of you, in a rhythm that was both possessive and tender. His thumb brushed against your most sensitive spot, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. He was coaxing you to climax, and you could feel the tension building inside you, like a coiled spring about to release.

Your body responded to his touch, the muscles of your core clenching and releasing around his fingers. Your fingers were tangled in his dark hair, flexing and pulling with every clench of your core. Your breaths grew shallower. You could feel the orgasm building, a powerful wave crashing towards you, threatening to consume you whole.

And then, just as you thought you couldn't take any more, he withdrew his fingers and began to lap at your core, his tongue darting and flicking against you. The pleasure was almost too much, each lick and suck driving you closer and closer.

“That’s it angel, let go for me” Azriel spoke between each lick, choosing now to try a new nickname for you.

With a cry of pure ecstasy, you finally reached the peak, your body convulsing as the orgasm washed over you. Your moans and cries were loud, and they felt like music to Azriel’s ears. You could feel his fingers on your hip, his thumbs stroking your skin, and the heat of his lips as he continued to pleasure you as you rode out your orgasm.

As the waves of pleasure began to ebb, he purred, sending vibrations through your core. "You taste amazing,"

You breathed out, a tone filled with lust .”I want to taste you too…” Azriel growled at the thought and pressed his hardness against the mattress.

"Not today, my love. Today, I just want to make you feel good." Despite your attempt to shake your head, his lips reattached themselves to your sensitive bud, sucking lazily and sending shivers down your spine. It felt too good for you to resist or challenge him.

You lost count of the number of times Azriel made you climax; his name had been moaned for what seemed like hours before exhaustion started to take over. He slowly made his way back up your naked body, his eyes devouring every curve before settling on yours with a tender gaze. He laid beside you, pulling the sheets over your exposed body and pulling you into a tight embrace.

Soft kisses were pressed to your temple as sleep began to overtake you.

"I will thank the cauldron every day for allowing you to be mine."

~~~

Next Part >> Hopefully before the end of the month

#acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #angst #acotar fanfiction #acotar series #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #naughty little shadows #azriel fluff #fluff #azriel smut #smut

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nesta-attorney · 3 months

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okay but the friendship between Nesta and Azriel in HOFAS has healed a massive part of me and I will truly be greatful for it, always

#acotar #acosf #pro nesta #nesta archeron #Azriel #Azriel the shadow singer #Hofas #cc3 #crescent city #I love these two

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acomaflove · 3 months

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Meanwhile, in the murky depths of some underground tunnels:

Wondering how Nesta kept a straight face honestly.

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captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship · 1 year

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Gwynriel Aestetic Board

#gwynriel #gwynriel supremacy #acotar #azriel x gwyn #gwyn acotar #azriel x gwyneth #gwynethxazriel #pro gwyneth berdara #gwyneth x azriel #azriel spymaster #azriel #ACOTAR mood board #gwynriel aesthetic #aestetic #gwynriel mood board #azriel shadowsinger #azriel shadow

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cassianandfenrysaremyboyos · 3 months

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This is such a sweet tender moment between Azriel and Nesta

#nesta archeron #azriel #hofas #house of flame and shadow #crescent city #acotar #hofas spoilers #lisa reads hofas

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obliviouscxnt · 3 months

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His Shadow pt.2 Azriel x Reader

a/n: all the feedback from the last fic is insane! I can’t even express the joy all of the comments bring me, the kind words mean so much!!! I'm so happy this concept is liked, I definitely want to explore more with it:)) I hope you enjoy!! <333

1.8k words

synopsis: azriel makes a deal with himself to get his shadows back

Warnings: angst, fluff

pt.1

He’d gotten so used to you being there, so comfortable with the shadows that always surrounded him.

Now that they were gone—now that you were gone—he was left with an inescapable feeling. Loss.

It felt like lead in his body. It twisted, and turned, weighing itself down on his ribs. Aching at every little thing he began to notice, the little things you did for him. The things he’d taken for granted.

He missed the way your darkness covered him like a protective blanket. Missed the ease it brought him. Without it, he felt bare.

He missed your voice, your whispers. If he closed his eyes and thought hard enough he could almost hear it. Almost. He’d never taken the time to memorize it. Never took the time to see beyond what was on the surface. Why hadn’t he?

How did he disregard you?

You, the first to show him compassion, apart from his own mother. You, who suffered with him in that cold keep, locked away. Unable to grow, to learn, to live.

You were there for him, with him.

How could he have overlooked you?

He holds on to your words, the idea that you would answer if he called brought him only a fraction of the comfort you gave him daily.

You weren’t really gone, he kept telling himself. He’d see you again.

When it was necessary.

No longer would you whisper a good morning to him when he woke, or a goodnight when he slept. No longer would you be there, just to be with him. Just to rest on his shoulders, or weave between his fingers.

He’d used you, like a tool. Like you were just another weapon in his arsenal.

The pain in his chest swelled, twinging as the image of misery on your breathtaking face invaded his mind. The awful things he’d said, the hateful accusation he’d made.

You cared so greatly for him, for so long, only to receive cruelty in return.

How had he ever thought your absence poetic?

Being away from him was a physical struggle. The need to be there for him, to comfort him, to apologize, and to express your faith in him was undying. You were surprised you’d lasted a full day.

No matter how he treated you, no matter how much it hurt, he’d always be everything.

Yet you kept hearing his words. ‘Are you jealous? Is that it?’ Kept seeing that angry glare he’d aimed at you, and how it melted away when you’d taken form. ‘Because I don’t give you enough attention?’

You kept remembering the change in his eyes, in the way he looked at you. Like he’d just then realized you had a mind of your own, that he didn’t have to think for you.

You’d thought it would make you happy. To have him really see you.

It didn’t.

You felt anger and sorrow. Angry you practically had to spell it out for him. Angry the most observant person in the Night Court, if not all of Prythian, had never spared you a second glance. Sad that you had to look like him to get his attention.

You'd given him every opportunity, you'd shown him your capacity for emotions countless times. He ignored it every single time. No, ignore wasn't right.

Ignorant.

Ignorant was the better word.

Perhaps it was your fault for expecting more of him.

In the beginning, his neglect hadn’t even mattered. You didn't realize he treated you any differently. That is until you saw him interact with Rhys and Cassian, and then eventually Mor and Amren.

With them, he was… still distant, closed off in a way. But he smiled, he laughed, he joked. He empathized with them, got angry for them, or sad, or happy. He loved them.

With you, it was just, find me this… bring me here… go listen to them… keep me hidden…

He never smiled at you.

It was your own fault for expecting him to think of you as anything other than a servant.

That’s what you are, right?

The need to grovel at his feet came back. You felt ridiculous. You lived to serve him. Without him you wouldn’t even have a life.

You were such a fool, living darkness throwing a fit over some hurt feelings.

He was the only reason you were able to feel anything at all. He gave you meaning. He was your purpose in life, not the other way around. He had no obligation to you, he didn't even have to call on you. The fact that he did was a gift in itself. Just like the pain you felt was a gift.

Without him, you’d just be a regular shadow.

That should be enough for you.

So when you heard his call, when you felt that irresistible tug on your soul, you answered.

You answered though you knew he had no reason for it. He wasn’t in danger, he didn’t want to go anywhere, didn’t need you to spy on anyone or find anything, he was just calling you.

You answered because no matter what you said, no matter how you felt, he would always be everything.

Azriel waits for you. Standing in the center of his room, shifting his balance from his right leg to his left.

He couldn’t keep his hands still, they ran through his hair, adjusted his shirt, got stuffed in his pockets only to leave them a moment later and rub at his neck. His arms cross in an effort to keep them still.

He was anxious, and restless, and nervous about messing up, but most of all he was angry at himself.

He wouldn’t be surprised if you ignored his call, even though you said you couldn’t. You’d probably found a way, after all he’s done he wouldn’t blame you.

It would hurt like hell, but he’d understand. Why would you bother giving him a second chance?

He’d never even asked you for a name.

Did you even have one? Do shadows need names? They obviously have a language, one he was able to speak and understand. Did you have a family? A people? Were you born or did you just appear one day?

These were all things he should’ve known already. Things he should’ve had the mind to be curious about.

He was too focused on himself and everyone else.

The lights dim, announcing your presence.

His arms uncross, falling at his sides. You really came.

Swirls of darkness slip into his room, slowly inching toward him. The way they move is lethargic. It makes him sick.

He speaks when you make it within a foot of him. Pushing past the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

The shadows stop. Gone was the mighty spymaster. All that remained was the boy who cried out to you on that cold night several centuries ago.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeats. “You don’t have to accept my apology. I don't want you to. I know I haven’t earned it. I just want you to know that If I could go back and change everything I would.” The words were nothing but the truth. He wished more than anything to go back and treat you right. To erase all the hurt he put you through.

His heart jumps when you continue toward him, slithering up his body, encasing him in your energy.

He feels you curl around his ear, and then he hears your voice. That airy tone reverberating through his head. A sound only he could hear. Only he could appreciate. One he hadn't until he knew what it was like to lose it.

“I forgive you.”

Azriel wanted to weep at those words. For you. For him. For what he’d done to the two of you. For what the two of you could’ve been if he’d just sacrificed a little of his time to be with you. Like you always had for him.

“No, you don’t,” He began, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”

The lights flicker, once, twice, then he feels it. Your hand.

His gaze trails down to watch your smokey fingers lace with his. The feeling of your skin touching his had his heart racing for other reasons. Very different from the chill of your shadows.

He lets his hand curl around your own. Squeezing as he went on, hoping you could hear and feel every last drop of his sincerity. “I could apologize to you every day for the rest of our eternal lives and I still wouldn’t deserve it.”

You step in front of him, meeting his stare. The emotion it held stitched something back together inside of you, something that'd gotten torn apart years ago.

“I will do everything in my power to change that. I promise.” His thumb rubs circles on your hand. “I will spend the rest of my life proving that I am worthy of you. That you chose right.” He felt his body tingle with each word, the sensation traveling down his arms, his chest, and his back. Ink undoubtedly marking his skin with a visual reminder of the deal he’d just made with himself.

To strive to one day earn your forgiveness. Your loyalty.

You reach out a hand resting it on his face, so faintly it barely even touched him. Afraid you were overstepping.

He leans into it, covering it with his own, holding it there.

Your mind drifts back to when you met him.

His small voice, crying out for anyone.

The strength of the Gods couldn’t have kept you from him.

You didn’t choose wrong. You knew that. It didn't matter if he believed it or not.

“I swear it.” He vows, bringing you back to the present. His hazel eyes so intense, so sure, burning into your own. You couldn't help yourself.

You kissed him.

His lips connect with yours and everything stops. Everything fades away until it’s just you and him.

He knew he’d never stop chasing the feeling it gave him. Something so simple, so easy, like breathing or gravity. Something he couldn’t live without. Not now that he’d had a taste.

One of his hands land on your waist, pulling you closer. The other leaves your hand to find purchase on the back of your neck, angling your head to deepen the kiss.

It was euphoric, he wanted to get lost in it, in you.

You pull away when his tongue brushes over your bottom lip, needing a moment to breathe.

Your eyes remain shut for a moment, stuck in that feeling. When you finally pry them open you study his face, taking in every detail, committing every single bit to memory.

He's breathing heavily, scanning you with a hunger you’ve never seen before. Eyes darting all over your face, repeatedly drifting back to your lips as if he too was struggling with restraint.

Then he smiles. Pure elation on his beautiful face.

The sight was divine.

You copied the action, smiling wide. You didn’t care if it looked or felt unnatural. You were just happy.

Happy to be his shadow.

taglist <33: @sidthedollface2 @mischiefmanagers @theravenphoenix26 @leeknows-wife @fxckmiup

#acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x shadow!reader #azriel fanfic

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hlizr50 · 3 months

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Azriel isn't ready for CC3

#azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #crescent city art #crescent city 2 #crescent city #crescent city 3 #hofas #house of flame and shadow #hosab #house of sky and breath #sarah j maas #sjm #acotar #fanart #crescent city fanart #acotar fanart

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ladylokilaufeyson5 · 1 month

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Where The Shadows Dance - The Proposition (i)

Bodyguard!Azriel x AutumnDaughter!Reader

CHAPTER I: The Proposition

SUMMARY: Beron has invited the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court to spend a week in the Autumn Court. Azriel and the rest of the Court of Dream believe he has ulterior motives, and they are correct - but these motives come as a surprise.

WARNINGS: Um. Misogyny. love that for us (i hate the autumn court). swearing (the f-word (as in fuck)), y/n has daddy issues (bc beron is a cunt) and uh... i haven't read acotar in ages so apologies for any OC characteristics and forgetting everything about the autumn court. but i did read HOFAS recently so hopefully az isn't too out of character. also tw: beron

NOTE: so obviously Y/n is the daughter of the autumn court. we know they have red hair BUT i want this to be as less oc as possible so y/n has your colour hair and u can make up ur own story about why but mine is that she's 'rebellious' (as you'll see later on) and just dyes her hair. also special thank you to my moots @icey--stars and @fieldofdaisiies for proofreading my work! i love you guys<3

WORDS: 2.7K

Azriel glowered at the male sat across from him. Eris either didn't notice or pretended he didn't care as he reclined in his chair, one arm over the back and looking for all the world he was in his own home, rather than the Court Of Nightmares.

"Eris," Rhys drawled, "if you have any information to help us with this meeting with your father, we would appreciate it immensely."

The High Lord of the Autumn Court had invited the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court to his castle for a week, as a gesture of good will, and an attempt to strengthen their bonds. Of course, the court was suspicious of the intent behind such actions. Although Azriel had sent his contacts in to find any sliver of information, his spies had come back empty-handed.

Eris rolled his shoulders, seemingly at ease despite being surrounded by the Night Court's most deadly warriors. "I am not entirely sure what he wants, but I assume it has something to do with my sister, Y/n."

Y/n, the only daughter of the High Lord of Autumn. She was quite young, by Fae standards – only seventy-nine. She had not fought in the war against Hybern, and had very little training according to Azriel's knowledge.

"Why her?" Feyre asked carefully.

Azriel heard the shift in her tone. She was wondering, as they all were, what Beron intended to do with her. The Autumn Court was just as backwards as the Court Of Nightmares, and females were considered little more than property.

Eris simply shrugged, either not hearing the implications in the High Lady's tone, or simply not caring. "That is all I know, I'm afraid."

Cassian grunted, his eyes still on the heir to the Autumn throne. No one was particularly happy about the bargain they had struck with him, but he seemed to be a willing ally. For now.

"What can you tell us about her?" Feyre inquired.

Eris watched her for a moment, before responding, "She is… wild. Untamed, and unpredictable."

Despite his words, Azriel sensed a flicker of admiration in his tone. Azriel stored that piece of information away. It could be a weakness of Eris's, his sister. They may need to exploit it one day.

"Sounds like my kind of lady," Mor grinned.

The fact that Mor bothered speak in Eris's presence was a gift that the heir did not appreciate enough. Azriel glanced sidelong at her, noticing the way her unbound golden hair cascaded down her back, and the amount of skin her low-cut red dress revealed. Once, looking at her like that would have sent Azriel mad with longing. But after she had confided in him, after she had revealed she could never love him back because she preferred females… some part of him had been relieved to let her go.

Eris scoffed at Mor's comment. "Yes, well, she irritates my father to no end."

There was a silence, and Azriel wondered whether Y/n annoyed Eris as well, before Rhys sighed, "Well, if that's all, Eris, I'm sure you have places to be."

The dismissal was clear in the High Lord's tone, and Eris rose from his chair with a nod before leaving the council room. Everyone was silent as the male left, all eyeing each other. Feyre and Rhys were looking at each other, a clear indication of their telepathic conversation, and Azriel watched the two with a hint of jealousy. Of course he was happy from them – finding one's mate was one of the most fulfilling things one could experience. But he couldn't help but feel a sense of longing for his own. It seemed he was the last of the court to find his mate, and he had a fear that he would never find them.

"Has anyone heard much about this Princess?" Cassian asked, looking towards Azriel.

Azriel shook his head. "She is one of the most guarded individuals in Prythian. My sources struggle to even see her."

"Very guarded indeed," Rhysand murmured.

The Court of Dreams debated between themselves the possibilities of what the High Lord of Autumn could want regarding his daughter. Azriel had a few of his own suspicions – to have her taken away, or perhaps trained in combat – but none of them seemed accurate.

After a while of debating plausible explanations for Beron's offer, the court decided to head home to the City of Starlight in order to get a good night's rest before their meeting tomorrow. The High Lord and High Lady were going, as well as Cassian and Azriel. Morrigan was not permitted in the Autumn Court, so she would stay behind with Nesta to hold down the fort while they were gone. Amren would also be travelling to the Autumn Court, and although the monster she was no longer crawled beneath her skin, she made most people wary.

As he lay in his bed, Azriel couldn't help but wonder what awaited him tomorrow. He was curious about what the Autumn High Lord wanted, especially regarding his daughter, although he was also wary. Although Autumn had helped them in the war, they couldn't be trusted. Azriel fell into an uneasy sleep, cautious of the days to come.

Azriel awoke at dawn the next day. They weren't due in the Autumn Court until the evening, so Azriel decided to go through his morning exercises. The Valkyries weren't up yet, so he went through his warm ups, taking his shirt off halfway through. The morning was uneventful, and Azriel ran over the information they had in his head. Eris had suggested that Beron may be seeking a favour of some sort, so perhaps it had something to do with that.

The day passed by quickly, and soon enough, those travelling to the Autumn Court had gathered in the living room of the River House, just as they had planned. Azriel and Cassian wore their scaled, black armour, while Rhys and Feyre wore their finery. Rhysand held his mate's arm, and Azriel grabbed onto Cassian, before winnowing to the entrance of the Autumn Court castle.

It was big, and made of stone. It was quite majestic, if Azriel was being honest – high towers and red and orange flags waving in the wind, large windows showcasing rich carpets and tapestries inside.

Rhys led the way, Feyre on his arm and Cassian and Azriel following closely, and Amren trailing behind. Guards monitored them as they passed through the halls, their armour heavier the closer they got to the throne room. Azriel marked each one as they passed, something he was sure Cassian and Rhysand were also doing.

The doors to the throne room opened, and revealed the High Lord of the Autumn Court sat atop a dais, the Lady of Autumn seated beside him. Beron's sons stood on his left, and his daughter was seated to her mother's right.

Azriel paused at the sight of her. She was beautiful, even by Fae standards. Her h/c hair shone in the Fae light liming the walls, piled neatly on her head in a braid crown. Y/n’s e/c eyes sparked with mischief and curiosity, skimming over the members of Azriel's Court, until they finally landed on him. Her gaze was mesmerising, and Azriel couldn't find it in himself to break it. A small smirk played at the corners of her mouth, as if she were aware of the effect she had on him, although Azriel's mask of icy cold had not budged even an inch. Azriel quickly tore his eyes away from the Daughter of Autumn, marking the guards posted by the doors and the dais, and counting the weapons each of Beron's sons carried.

"Beron," Rhysand purred, ever the arrogant High Lord, the mask back up despite the High Lords' meeting all those months ago. "So lovely to see you again. Thank you for inviting us to stay."

Beron rose from his dias and stalked towards the High Lord of the Night Court. Everyone tensed as he stepped closer and closer, and Azriel subtly reached for the dagger at his side. Beron's blood would spray across the marble floors the second Azriel suspected he would harm his High Lord or Lady. But Beron simply held his hand out, and Rhys gripped it tightly, his eyes holding a small amount of surprise.

"Rhysand. A pleasure to have you here," Beron replied. Azriel didn't miss the slight strain in his voice. "You must be hungry. Shall we?"

Beron inclined his head to the dining room and led the way with Rhysand and Feyre at his side. He hadn't even acknowledged the High Lady, something that made Azriel want to rip the male’s head off, but Rhys got there first.

“And what about my High Lady?” Rhys purred, a dangerous edge to his voice.

Beron’s smile faltered slightly, and he glanced at Feyre with a barely concealed look of distaste, as if he would rather rip off his own toenails than address a female with the same amount of respect that he would expect. Azriel felt a protective anger surge through him, and he watched carefully, curious as to what the High Lord’s next move would be.

“Of course,” Beron said, his voice dripping with fake courtesy. “My apologies, Lady Feyre. Of course it is wonderful to have you both visit.”

Cassian gave Azriel a look that said, And-what-about-us? Aren't-we-wonderful?

Azriel sent him a look back that said, Shut-the-fuck-up.

Beron led them all to the dining room, the Autumn colours present everywhere they looked. The chairs were all high-backed, and Azriel knew that Beron did not care if he and Cassian would be comfortable with their wings. Everyone took their seats — Beron at the head, Rhysand to his left, and Feyre beside him. Azriel sat next to his High Lady, Cassian taking his seat adjacent to the shadowsinger. The Lady of Autumn (still not a High Lady, despite the fact that Viviane was also now a High Lady) sat to Beron’s right, Eris beside her, and Y/n next to him, and across from Azriel. Azriel felt Y/n’s eyes on him, and he met her gaze. There was a curious look in her eyes, a look of anticipation mixed with mischief.

Dinner was served, an array of meats and vegetables placed on the table by servants, mostly lesser fairies. None of them looked Azriel in the eye, and he wondered if it was because they knew who and what he was, or if they’d been trained not to. Y/n, however, had no such qualms about this, and stared at the shadowsinger unabashedly.

Beron struck up a conversation with Rhys — small talk, something that Azriel internally cringed at, because it was definitely just to fill the silence. Ever the gracious guest, Rhysand responded in kind, although Azriel knew he was wondering what Beron’s ulterior motives were.

“How do your siphons work?”

The table went silent as Y/n spoke, her cunning eyes trained on Azriel. Beron looked at his daughter with a hint of irritation gleaming in his eyes, as if it was unacceptable for her to speak without permission. Azriel glanced at Rhysand, who was watching the daughter of Autumn with a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

“How do you know that is what they are called?” Rhys asked, his eyes trained on the only daughter of Autumn.

She shrugged, and answered, “I read a lot in my spare time. I remember reading about the Illyrians, and their siphons. If I remember correctly, Illyrians tend to possess only one, yet the two of you hold several.”

“There is no need to question our guests, Y/n,” Beron scolded firmly.

Y/n frowned. “I was simply curious.”

“Do not speak back to me,” Beron reprimanded, a burning fury now evident in his eyes.

Y/n slumped back into her chair slightly and bowed her head. “My apologies, Father.”

Beron didn’t even acknowledge his daughter before he turned back to Rhys, as if her mere existence didn’t deserve another moment of his time. Azriel watched the female in front of him as she stared at her plate, and felt a sense of sympathy for her. Azriel owed her nothing — he did not know the female in front of him, did not know if she even deserved his sympathy — and yet he felt the need to protect, to wipe that blank expression off of her face.

“Our siphons act as a conduit for our raw power,” Azriel offered, causing Y/n to look up. Beron paused, glancing at the shadowsinger and the Autumn daughter, and Azriel continued, “It helps to control our magic, to make it precise and nimble, rather than a messy outburst of power.”

Cassian gaped at his brother, as if he had never heard that many words come out of Azriel’s mouth in one sitting. While that was an inaccurate statement, it was true that Azriel never tended to speak in front of new people. He wasn’t sure why he had done so anyway. But Y/n bowed her head in thanks at the information, perhaps still wary of answering and speaking without her father’s permission, but Azriel had observed a small, triumphant light in the female’s eyes at his reply.

Azriel watched as that gleam faded when Beron cleared his throat, gaining the attention from everyone in the room.

“There is a reason why I have asked you here,” Beron stated.

“Surprise, surprise,” Cassian muttered, and Azriel elbowed him.

Beron glanced at Cassian for all of a second before continuing, “There has been an attempt on my daughter’s life.” Stunned silence met Beron’s words, and Azriel caught Y/n rolling her eyes. That raised his suspicion — were Beron’s words false, or did she simply believe it was not an issue? “If it appeals to you,” Beron went on, “I seek to employ one of your Night Court warriors as her personal bodyguard.”

Rhys blinked once, his only sign of surprise. Beron looked at Rhys expectantly, and Azriel could have guessed the thoughts that flew around Rhys’s head.

“Why one of my warriors?” Rhys inquired carefully.

“I hoped it might help strengthen bonds between our courts,” Beron expressed.

Azriel watched the High Lord of the Autumn Court carefully. There seemed to be no ulterior motives hidden within his demeanour — he did not shift nervously, none of his facial features even so much as twitched.

“And say I agree to this,” Rhys said casually, “how long would you hold onto one of my warriors?”

“Until the threat against my daughter’s life is eliminated,” Beron answered.

There was silence for a few moments while everyone processed what was happening. Azriel looked at Eris to see the male’s eyes on his father. They were carefully guarded, a mask in place to ensure no one was able to discern what he was thinking. Azriel turned his gaze to Y/n, and a shadow slithered up by his ear.

She does not believe it to be such a serious matter, the shadow whispered. She wishes for this dinner to be over so she may go back to her quarters and finish her novel.

Azriel blinked in surprise at the information from his shadow. Usually, his shadows would tell him what others could not see and hear — but this felt almost like too much. Yes, his shadows had a tendency to recognise when someone was lying, or what weapons they were concealing, but to give him a person’s unvoiced opinion on a matter was something new.

But indeed, with her chin propped up on her delicate hand, and twirling her dessert fork in the other, she appeared to be completely disinterested. Azriel turned his gaze back to the male beside her, to see Eris already watching his sister. His eyes were cold and calculating as he regarded her, as if he was mentally playing out how this ‘bodyguard’ situation would go. With the slight frown tugging the corners of his lips downwards, Azriel assumed Eris did not believe it would end well.

“Please, do take time to come to a decision,” Beron offered. “I do understand this is a lot to ask.”

“We shall have an answer by the end of the week,” Rhys said with a nod.

Beron nodded back, and Azriel wondered what they were getting themselves into.

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