#acomaf
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Here Comes The Sun
Azriel x You
Word Count : 3.8k
Summary : When the Spymaster of the Night Court discovers your little crush, you end up crossing a lot of firsts off your list.
Warnings : lots of sexual tension, use of nicknames (Sunshine - Reader/You), mention/insinuation of loss of virginity, mention of masturbation, oral and fingering (f recieving).
Author's Note : written for this anon ask, very lightly edited so please forgive mistakes/mispellings.
The crowd at Rita’s tonight was especially large, you think to yourself as you huddle closer to your friends. You had made the trip from Day Court especially for one of your dear friends birthdays. After hours of dancing, you were now gathered next to the table that Mor had taken over for your friends and hers. Rhys was snuggled in the booth obviously preoccupied with his mate and Cassian was moping, bouncing one knee and eyeing the exit, biding his time until he could go home to Nesta. The rest of your group, including the birthday girl, were standing in a tight knot trading laughs and waving their hands in animated conversation.
Except you. You had pushed yourself to the outside of the group, overheated from all the dancing. You allow your eyes to roam around the large room, the music picking up into another lively song. Your gaze slides along the bar before it lands on the dark figure you’ve been avoiding all night. Azriel, the Shadowsinger, Spymaster to the Night Court.
As you dip your chin with a secretive smile, you turn back to your group.
“I see your little crush hasn’t faded since the last time you were here.” Mor practically shouts over the music.
“Who? Me? What are you talking about Mor?” You feel a hot flush of color creeping over your neck.
Mor just tilts her head in response with a smirk, right in the direction of the bar you were just staring at.
“Azriel? The Spymaster?” you feign a shocked face with a laugh. “He is way out of my league.”
Mor leans closer to your ear so she isn’t shouting. “But you aren’t denying it.”
The flush of heat reaches your cheeks now. “There’s no harm in looking, you know,” you answer with another laugh.
“You’re right,” Mor smiles wickedly. “No harm done.”
As she turns back to the conversation with the birthday girl, you turn towards the table top. Grabbing your water from the table, going for a piece of ice you can cool your fingers with and press to your overheated face. Shaking the cup you realize it's empty and risk another glance towards the bar.
An elegant female catches your eye, dress glittering and legs as long as night. She is sidled up just next to Azriel’s stool in the corner obviously trying to get his attention. It is then that you notice he is paying her no mind, not even to politely decline. Because his eyes are on you.
Another flame of heat licks at your cheeks as your eyes lock with those light hazel ones. Dipping your head quickly to turn back to your friends, you feel a slow cool breeze sliding over the back of your neck. Before you can even question the source, a hand grabs your arm.
“You want me to grab you another drink?,” one of your other friends asks.
“No, thanks. That’s ok. I should probably head out anyway. Early start tomorrow and all.” Tomorrow you were headed back to the Day Court. Scholar duties wait for no one, not even a good friend’s birthday.
Slipping through the crowd past the churning dance floor, you spot Mor and the birthday girl pushing through the hordes of people in an attempt to reach the bar. Catching their eye, you wave a little wave and head towards the coat check.
Throwing your coat over your arm as you step out onto the street, you are blissfully thankful for the cold winter air that hits you. It was much too hot inside and your face is still heated at a low simmer. The fleeting reminder of those eyes on you from across the room bring that heat straight back up to a boil.
Those light hazel eyes, those swirling dark wisps of shadow, that single dark lock of hair that doesn’t seem to stay in place and falls across his forehead.
Enough. You admonish yourself in thought.
You decide the night air will do you some good and begin the short walk just a few blocks to your inn instead of winnowing back. You don’t even make it half a block before a whipping mass of shadow blocks your path and you slam into the very solid body within it.
Stumbling backwards a step, you stammer out an apology. “Oh, I’m sor–”
Those eyes.
“Leaving so soon, Sunshine?” Those eyes are focused solely on you as Azriel’s deep voice sounds.
“Oh, um. Yeah, I was just heading back to the inn. I’m heading home early in the morning.”
“But the night is young. You’ll miss all the fun, Sunshine.”
“I get it,” you force out a giggle even though your heart is pounding. “Sunshine - I’m from Day Court. Very cute.”
Azriel chuckles, the vibration sweeping over your skin. Your face isn’t the only thing that feels hot now.
“Not what I was going for, but a cute coincidence.” He emphasizes the word cute in your tone.
“Then why did you call me Sunshine?”
Why are you out here alone on the street talking with this male?
It wasn’t that you felt unsafe. How could you with the Spymaster at your side? It was just that being alone with males wasn’t something you did. Ever. The scholar dorms were separated and all of your roommates were female. The occasion had never arisen before.
“Look at you,” he purrs. “You are practically glowing. That is why I called you Sunshine.”
Your face flames even hotter now if that were even possible. Another slow cooling breeze passes over you, this time down the side of one cheek. The source is clear this time. Tendrils of smoky shadow pass through your peripheral vision as the coast over your shoulder. Before a thought could fully form in your mind, he slips to your side.
“May I escort you?” Your attention falls to the shadows that twine around the elbow he offers you.
“To the inn? Where I’m staying?”
“Did you have another place in mind?” His mouth quirks up on one side with a dangerous glint in his eye.
You shake your head a bit as your brain kicks back into gear. “If the night is so young, how come you are out here offering to walk me home?”
Azriel laughs. His chin tilted up, you can’t help but to notice that smooth expanse of tattooed neck.
“You caught me Sunshine,” he says, bringing his gaze back to you. “It just so happens that a little birdie told me –” He leans down, lips dangerously close to your ear.
“- that you might have a little crush on me.”
If your skin could get any hotter you would burst into flame, right here in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Mor really should keep her mouth shut,” you spit out in a sudden burst of anger.
“It wasn’t Mor who told me,” he says as he straightens.
“Then who?” You tilt your head to look at him, confused. Outside of Mor, your other friends had no reason to randomly approach someone from the Inner Circle.
“Like I said Sunshine, a little birdie told me.” With a flick of his wrist he holds out his hand, index finger extended in a point. A vortex of shadow swirls above it, forming into a tiny bird. Wings flapping as it lands on his finger like a perch.
You crack out a sharp laugh. “Spymaster. Right. I should have known. Well, like I told Mor –” you peer at him with a mischievous grin. “There is no harm in looking.”
In an instant, Azriel spins to face you fully. One arm smoothly planted to brace against the brick wall behind you. “So you aren’t denying it then? You do have a crush on me?”
Your head is spinning, your heart pounding, no witty comebacks spring into your mind. The only thing forming is a low heat in your belly.
“No, I’m not denying it.” you say breathlessly.
“Well,” he starts, staring right into your eyes. “It just so happens Sunshine, the feeling is mutual. And while there may be no harm in looking.” He leans closer, his finger glides down the side of your face before hooking under your chin. “It’s so much more fun to touch.”
Before you can utter a single word, his lips are brushing over yours. The first tender kiss lands softly against the pillow of your lips, barely any pressure behind it. The second has you reciprocating with a gentle push of your own. The third is what causes all thoughts to flee and a sigh escapes your throat.
You feel his lips pull into a smile against your own. “Don’t you agree?”
You stand there frozen. Dazed, head empty. “I’m sorry,” you breathe. “I forgot the question.”
Azriel releases another low chuckle and again the vibration coasts over your skin. This time suspiciously close to your ear.
“I said,” he rumbles as you feel his nose brushing against your hair. “It’s so much more fun to touch isn’t it?”
The tip of his nose begins dragging lower, like a cold piece of ice sliding down your heated neck.
“Azriel, wait –” you say sharply.
He pulls back and stares into your face again. “What’s wrong, Sunshine? Did I do something wrong?” A sly grin across his classically beautiful face. “You’re standing here like you’ve never been kissed before or something.”
The only answer is your bewildered stare, another bloom of color rising to your cheeks.
He jerks back slightly in shock. The look quickly covered with that impenetrably impassive mask so familiar to the Spymaster of the Night Court.
“There’s – I mean, the right – it’s just never come up before,” you stammer with a shake of your head.
You watch as a heat reaches his face. The flame igniting not across his cheeks, but in his eyes.
“Sunshine,” he whispers softly, his finger still hooked under your chin. “Was that your first kiss?”
Once again, your words fail you.
Pushing off from the arm bracing the wall, Azriel brings both hands to the center of his chest. “I am honored to be your first,” he says nodding into a slight bow. “And maybe – if you so desire –” the sensual tone of his voice deepens. “I could be part of many more firsts for you.”
That flame of need is still bright within his eyes.The inferno no longer blazes up your neck and face as it doubles low in your belly, slipping down and settling squarely between your thighs.
Isn’t this what you wanted? What you had fantasized about for weeks after that first initial sighting of him? Isn’t his voice after he first introduced himself to you the one you replayed over and over in your head? That deep timbre inside your brain as you ached for some privacy in the overcrowded dormitory to touch yourself? It’s not like you were saving yourself for any particular reason, it had just never happened.
“Yes,” you breathe in a shudder. “I do so desire.”
The flame in his eyes flares higher as he turns to stand at your side, a feline smile pulling at his lips. Azriel offers you his elbow once more. With your eyes still on his face, drinking in the crinkle near his eye and the tilt of his mouth, you slip your hand smoothly into the crook of his arm.
Before you can even lift your leg to step, blackness surrounds you. What were once wispy strands of shadow now surround you like a sheet, obscuring the street around you from view. You draw in a gasp. This was not the winnowing you were accustomed to. It felt entirely different although not necessarily in a bad way. Yet before your gasp could be released fully, the blackness receded and you stared about you in wonder.
The cobblestones beneath your feet were replaced with gleaming hardwood, the chill of the winter night gone. A fire was already burning in the fireplace as you scanned the room before you.
“This isn’t the inn,” you state as you finally release your breath.
“No. It isn’t,” Azriel rumbles out another laugh as he releases your arm. “I thought you’d prefer a little more privacy. Plus the beds at the inn aren’t exactly made for wings.” He shuffles his wings with a sly smile as he turns to you.
“You know from experience?,” you smirk.
“Does that bother you?,” he asks seriously as he steps closer. The usual buffer between bodies cut in half, you can feel the heat of him radiating.
“Does me being – inexperienced bother you?” Another rush of color floods your face and you press your still chilled knuckles to your cheek in frustration.
“No,” his tone is still serious as he gently removes your hand from your face. “It doesn’t bother me.” The fingers held so tenderly in his are brought to his lips, the same sweet pressure from his kiss earlier laid on the back of your hand. “It’s – intoxicating.”
You feel your breaths shorten as he steps even closer, his front pressing against yours. Azriel drops your hand and brings his up to your chin once more, this time tilting your head to the side. His other arm snakes around your waist.
“Knowing you’re allowing me to bring you pleasure,” his warm lips brush against the side of your neck. “Pleasure you have never known before,” his kisses shift lower. “That it’s my name you will cry out as I give it to you,” his teeth graze your collarbone and his wings tremble with his words.
“Azriel,” you sigh, leaning your head back even further.
Sliding his hand from your face to the nape of your neck, his face comes up to meet yours. “We are just getting started, Sunshine.”
His lips crash into yours just as you bring your arms up to his shoulders. Gone are the trailing soft kisses. This is just need. Bruising, nipping, need. Your tongue meets his as it enters your mouth, searching. You push back as he deepens the kiss further, needing to be closer. Wanting more. Your hands slip into his hair, threading between your fingers as you try to get closer.
He breaks the kiss just for a moment to reach down and grasp your thighs, hauling you up to wrap your legs around him before he eagerly returns. Your grip around his neck tightens as you hold on, your heaving chest pressed up against his. You feel him moving and in a moment you’re being lowered to the bed, mattress meeting your back.
As he pulls himself away, standing upright before you, you notice the damp stain left on the front of his dark shirt. Right where your thighs had been spread around his waist. As he unbuttons his shirt his gaze drops down to where you are looking and he runs his thumb over the wetness there.
His shirt now tossed aside, he steps near you again. Hands sliding up the outside of your thighs to your hips, the fabric of your dress bunching as he pushes it up.
“No need to be embarrassed.” He says as he sits you up so that he can gather your dress over your head. “You're about to be dripping on much more than my shirt.”
As he tosses your dress over on the floor with his shirt, he peers down at you, just looking, hands held still at his sides.
“So fucking beautiful.” His hand reaches out and caresses your breast, filling his palm with its weight before drawing his thumb across your tight nipple. The sensation causes you to gasp and you feel it in your core. He seems to be lost in thought for just a moment before he leans over quickly, snatching the pillows from the head of the bed and tucking them directly behind you.
“Lay back,” his voice barely above a whisper. You follow his instruction, your body angled so that you are sitting up partially on the edge of the bed. “I want you to watch as I make you come undone, Sunshine. I want you to remember who put that look of bliss on your face.”
As he speaks, that swirling sheet of shadow moves behind him along the wall. As they fade back into their usual state and return to his shoulders, you see that a large full length mirror is left in their wake. Azriel drops to his knees beside the bed as you take in the sight before you. His broad muscular shoulders kneeling before you, wings tucked in tight. His hands snaking along your hips and your face flushed with arousal.
One scarred hand nudges at your knees and you spread open, watching reflection as you do. That same hand now moves to your soaked panties, one index finger sliding through the gusset and his knuckle brushing softly against the outside of your folds.
“All this for me, Sunshine?” It comes out like a growl. With a pull, that finger begins lowering your panties down your thighs. You bring your knees together just long enough to slip them off completely before you spread wide once more.
In one swift motion, Azriel’s hands are under your knees and you are being pulled to the very edge of the bed. He hooks one leg over his shoulder and the other he pushes firmly wider. You don’t even have a chance to react before his face is at your core, his tongue lapping at your arousal.
You squeak out a sound of surprise and you feel a muffled laugh against you. The vibration of which turns your sound into a moan. His tongue has parted your folds now, making a slow circuit around your engorged clit.
“Is this what you thought about as you touched yourself?” He doesn’t even lift his head as he speaks. Your moans continue as your head falls back and your eyes close. He breaks the circuit of his tongue to dip down toward your entrance.
“How quickly did you come with your fingers while you imagined my face between your legs, Sunshine?” Returning to that sensitive bud once more, his tongue picks up a fevered pace. The cry that leaves your throat is positively sinful and your leg begins shaking against the palm that holds it open.
You feel his tongue curling, cradling your clit just before he pulls it into his mouth and sucks. The leg you have over his shoulder tenses, pulling his body closer to your core. With a pop he releases and brings his eyes up to your face.
“Watch,” he says with authority. Just the tone of his voice has you practically vibrating.
You follow his command as he lowers his head. You stare at the image before you. His hand pressing into the flesh of your trembling thigh. His tongue picks up that pace once more and you see yourself shudder as you moan. Releasing the grip you have on the sheets, you bring your hands up to his head, staring at the sight of your skin against the black hair as you thread your fingers through.
The picture is – intoxicating. Just like he said. On the edge of the first orgasm you haven’t given yourself, you fixate on the bob of his head between your thighs, your breasts heaving with your labored breath, the sweat beginning to glisten against your skin.
It’s too much. Quicker than you’ve ever been able to finish before, you feel that tightening in your belly rushing you towards the finish line. Azriel’s tongue dips again into your entrance before resuming his pull at your clit with a groan.
“Azriel,” you pant out. “Oh, Az– I–”
“That’s it, Sunshine, keep watching,” he says quickly before returning to his task. Just as you feel that familiar flutter starting, you feel a finger at your entrance pushing in.
You choke on a gasp as his finger fills the void and begins curling inside you. Clenching your fingers you pull at his hair, eliciting a deep moan from his chest. One more curl of his finger and you are falling over the edge. You watch in the mirror as your face twists into pleasure, your muscles contract and you pull your leg tight against his back. Your other leg now trembling freely as his hand moves up to your hip. The ripples of pleasure draw out as you watch, longer and longer until you are pulling yourself upright by the grip on his hair.
“Azriel!” you cry out in a sob. The orgasm gives one final wave before you fall back onto the pillows, releasing your hold on him. He lifts his face from your core, but the finger inside you remains. Gently, slowly he continues pushing it in and out of you, the sound of your release squishing around it. You shudder with aftershocks at his continued movements.
“How did you like seeing me between your thighs? Was it everything you imagined?” You can hear the smile in his voice as you gather your breath.
“It was –” you sigh out at a loss for more words.
He halts his movements, pulling his hand from your body. Then Azriel is standing before you, grabbing your hips and shifting you to the head of the bed. Bringing his knees up to the mattress and crawling over you he asks, “How many firsts was that, Sunshine?”
He settles his weight over you, the hard length of him evident against your core. Wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer, you laugh. “I lost count.”
Az’s face breaks out into a bright smile as he brings his mouth to yours. Tongues searching, heads tilting before he pulls away nearly a full minute later. “The night is still young, Sunshine, what’s next on your list?”
He gives a testing thrust against and you laugh once more as you wrap your legs around him in answer.
****
Hours later, you wake in the pitch black of the dead of night, a muscular arm wrapped around you and a wing slung over your body. Pushing gently against the hard chest in front of your face, you start to push up to sitting. The arm around you tightens, pulling you back to the mattress.
“What time is it?” you ask.
“Not time for you to rise yet, Sunshine. Go back to sleep,” Azriel’s half asleep voice is even sexier than the one he whispered in your ear with earlier.
“I should go.”
“You don’t really want to walk the streets back to the inn at this hour do you?” He smiles sleepily as he cracks an eye open. He would winnow you if you wished, but he couldn’t resist teasing.
“No, I mean – I’m heading back home to Day Court today,” you snuggle back into that hard chest again. “But I don’t want to.”
That sleepy smile graces his face once more as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “So don’t.”
#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel imagine#azriel acotar#acotar smut#acotar#acomaf#acowar#acosf#acofas#azriel shadowsinger#azriel shadowdaddy#acotar fanfiction
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The Silent Treatment
Azriel X Reader
Synopsis: Your past affair sends Azriel into brooding, with Elain being lead to believe that the end of the relationship she hated so much had finally happened.
Warnings: Breaking glass? Angst, silly Elain, sillier Azriel.
A/N: As a result of the poll, please enjoy this short series of unfortunate miss communications. Let me know what you think!
----------------------------------------------------
“Az-Az-Azriel! Would you just listen to me?" You attempted to pull your partner in crime’s crossed arms apart from one another, stopping him outside Feyre’s gallery before entering the charity event.
“You’re not seriously still mad about this?! We weren’t even together, you big Illyrian baby!” He continued to try to walk past you as if you were made of the Summer air you both stood in. You wish you and the Inner Circle never played that stupid drinking game, the story of you and a certain senior member of the Autumn Courts Summer fling many centuries ago leaving your loose liquored lips.
“Az, it’s been almost two weeks! Can you stop with the silent treatment” He gave you one solitary blink before exhaling loudly and continuing his course into the gallery event, leaving you standing alone in the street.
“Hi YN!” You almost leapt from your skin at the sound of Elain appearing behind you, you giving a small wave of a greeting in return, your eyes landing on Azriel laughing to some throw-away comment Cassian bellowed. You hadn’t heard that beautiful sound in so long and it gave you a new sense of anger.
“So I saw that- that little moment with Az, trouble in paradise?” you tried not to let her not-so-innocent words nip at you. For the most part, you got on with Elain but every now and then she would radiate this energy towards you you couldn’t quite shake.
“I can’t even get into it Elain, he’s really pushed me this time, I’m finished with hi- Shit! The time! I have to go give that speech inside!” You left her on the road suddenly, your commitments interrupting your thought process, unknowingly sending a live grenade into your relationship.
Elain hadn’t heard the end of the thought, the thought that may have ended along the lines of “finished with him ignoring me, I need to make it better” but no, those words were never heard. Elain believed her silent prayers had come true, that things could go back to how they were before you re-entered Azriels life after the war, rekindling the youngling romance you both had with one another. She missed his devoted attention to her, his longing glances she hadn’t felt since you recaptured Azriels world. Now she believed the relationship had been cleaved apart with the knowledge of your tryst with Eris during the years you and Azriel were apart.
Over the course of the following week, you inadvertently kept your distance from Azriel, being sent on multiple missions for the Court but to Elain, you had chosen to stay away from him. With you away and unable to work onf repairing the relationship combined with Azriel’s ongoing silent treatment, she decided it was time to act on her feelings.
-
Azriel sat in the Summer sun, sipping herbal tea outside your favourite pastry shop. His eyes drifted to an easy close, warming in the sun until a shadow blocked his warmth.
“Elain?”
“Hello Azzills” Azriel cringed slightly at the use of your endearing pet name for him, it sounding corrupt from her tongue, he shook it off. Elain slid onto the adjacent chair to Azriel, his shadows wanting to leap in alarm at the close proximity. Azriel wished it was you, he missed you in his self-inflicted solitude, and he felt like an idiot for it now.
“Sooo whatcha doing Azills?” The name was like nails on a chalkboard from her. Her hand landed on his thigh, Azriels shadows flurrying slightly. Was Elain drunk? Azriel thought.
“Ehh nothing Elain, what are you doing?” he half laughed trying to defuse the situation. A year previous he would have loved the touch from her, loved the attention. But not now. Azriel had found you after centuries of war separating you from one another, he had no need for half glances and momentary chances, he had you.
“I’m doing this” she whispered to him before leaning in and meeting his lips. Azriel was entirely shocked by the boldness. The moment he had wanted for so long was now like the worst crime against nature. Azriels shadows were now frenzied, he placed his arms on her shoulders, moving to push her from him until-
“Azriel?!” Your voice came rushing to his ears as he pushed Elain back, you staring at the two of them in utter horror from a little way down the road. Azriel felt as though he may vomit his tea everywhere when his eyes found yours as they seemingly shattered
“You bring me down here to meet you for this?!” Your words echoed your heartbreak and Azriels confusion. He went to speak but the words couldn't find their way through the bile and shock building in his throat. You vanished in front of him, unable to take the silence for a second more. Azriel leapt from the iron seat but you were gone, his shadows moving to follow you but not quickly enough.
“Elain! What the actual fuck?!” He couldn’t decide if he was angrier with himself or with her right now.
“I thought you broke up!” Elain almost as shocked as Azriel.
“Broken up?! Do you really think I would be out fucking sipping tea if YN and I broke up? I would be dead at the bottom of the Sidra!” she felt shame grow in her at his angry tone.
-
You rocketed into your shared apartment with Azriel, rage absolutely whipping through you as you swept your hands along the photo frame-covered mantelpiece, the happy members shattering to the ground. You stood in the broken glass, feeling all of the emotions of the happy photos rattle around and be replaced with waves of deep, suffocating sadness. You felt your body roar out and collapse into the broken glass pieces, the shards piercing your knees. Alone in the house, as you had been for the three weeks. You rose from the ground on shaking legs, sitting down on the loveseat, looking at the mess. You gently plucked the shards of broken glass from your knees, your flesh knotting back together.
“YN” his voice was so mouselike in its uncharacteristic meekness. You lifted your eyes to the Shadowsinger stood sheet-white in the doorway. You hadn’t heard his voice in so long and yet now all you wanted was the silence.
“No” you found your voice saying.
“Let me explain-”
“-Oh so you get to explain yourself and I’m supposed to listen when you wouldn’t even give me the same grace?-” your voice vibrated with anger “-You kissed another female! Not just any other female, Elain! Elain!” you couldn’t stop your tears sailing over the rim of your eyes, your body beginning to shake at the image in your mind. Azriel closed the distance, sitting ever so cautiously next to you as you felt yourself let him. You missed him beneath it all and wished it wasn’t these circumstances that reunited you.
“I know YN, I am the scum of the planet, I don’t deserve to explain, please let me though, please, please” his hand took yours in his, a feeling you missed so dearly.
“If you want to be with Elain then-”
“-Don’t finish that sentence, I don’t want to be with her, only you! She thought we had-we had broken up” he said the end so softly, like the idea could cause him to crumble at any moment. His arm snaked around your waist to support you, your head instinctively leaning into the warmth. You both sat in silence but unlike the kind that had stayed between you for the past three weeks, this was warm, full of comfort and hope and home.
“I’m sorry about Er-”
“-Please don’t apologise for that, it was so so stupid, my jealousy clouded me, I have you now and you're mine n- you’re still mine right?” his words shook out of him.
“I don’t think I could ever be anyone else’s-” he kissed the top of your head at the words as you smiled - "unfortunately” he scoffed before laughing at your teasing.
“I love you Azriel”
“And I love you but the redecorating in here maybe not so much”
“Dibs on not being the one to tell Cass I broke the clay horse he made!” you laughed the words out loudly
“Unfair YN I-”
“Uh uh uh-” you shook your finger playfully in his face “-you’ve given me ammunition for the rest of our lives together in what happened today”
“For the rest of our lives, doesn’t sound too bad” he kissed you sweetly then, peace and passion radiating from you both.
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Let me know what you think friends <3
#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acosf#acomaf#acowar#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel x oc#azriel acotar#azriel fanfic#azriel fluff#azriel fic#cassian#acotar x reader#acotar x you#acotar x y/n#acotar fanfiction#acotar fic#acotar fluff#azriel shadowsinger#shadowsinger x reader#sarah j maas#fanfic#lucien acotar#azrielxreader
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Bluebird — Azriel x Reader — Part IX
Summary: Deciding to accept Azriel's offer, Reader's world as they know it is about to change. In more ways than one.
Click here to be added to the Bluebird Taglist! Please remember to check your settings and make sure you can be tagged! 💕
Word Count: 8.5k
Warnings: Some suggestions of smut and heavy petting, but nothing too major!
✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ
Azriel stared out of the huge wall-length windows of the River House, watching shadows move in the sunlight that bathed the estate.
He hadn’t been to bed.
In the mere hours since he’d left the human realm, leaving Y/N, their conversation and his offer behind…his mind was too crowded to sleep.
So he’d come to the River House, wind still clinging to his skin and clothes from hours of aimlessly flying, and found his family gathering for breakfast.
“Where have you been?” Cassian had asked him.
“Just flying.” Had been Azriel’s explanation. The questioning looks he’d earned in response had told him they all suspected something more was going on with him.
And how right they were. He didn’t know why he was being cagey, why he couldn’t just be open with them about the human woman who had utterly captivated him—
It was scary, he supposed. To step out of the bubble they had around them, just the two of them.
But if Y/N did agree to come across the Wall with him…it was time to be open, honest.
As if on cue, a kick landed on his shin. Amren.
“Cassian is supposed to be the absentminded one, shadowsinger,” she drawled. “Are you present?”
Cassian grinned at the jibe. “Someone’s grumpy because she’s hungry. Poor baby.” His eyes slid to Azriel, ignoring Amren’s glare. “Our miniature friend is right, though. What are you daydreaming about?”
Azriel became acutely aware of every present pair of eyes on him. Rhys’s. Feyre’s. Cassian’s and Mor’s, Amren’s and Elain’s. If Nesta had been present, she’d probably have stared, too.
Az cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. Never comfortable with so much attention on him. “There…uh…”
Rhys frowned, realising, at once, that whatever this was held weight. “Az?” he angled his head.
He must have been pale, because Feyre frowned and asked, “Azriel, are you well?”
He didn’t know why he was fumbling this so much. Perhaps because for all he loved his family, for all he’d stared centuries down with them, his feelings were things that he’d always kept tightly locked away, and they had respected that. If he wanted them to know something, they would know. If not, they wouldn’t ask. It was how it had always been.
But this was different.
He was serious about Y/N, and his first step in proving that was to tell those closest to him about her.
He cleared his throat again, bracing his arms on the table. “There’s something I want you all to know.”
“We all know you have the biggest wingspan, boy,” Amren speared a slice of melon. “It’s hardly breakfast conversation—”
“Amren.” Mor cut her off brusquely. She was staring intently at Az. Could tell this wasn’t the time for jokes. “Go ahead, Az.”
Azriel clenched his fists at his sides. “I…I have fallen for someone,” he swallowed a lump down, far out of his comfort zone. “I’ve fallen in love with someone. A woman. A human woman.”
Silence.
The faces of his family gazed back at him, a mosaic of expressions varying from surprise to confusion to the twitching of baffled amusement. They were waiting for an explanation, or some indication that this was a rare, random joke that Azriel had decided to crack. And Az found that he couldn’t bear them considering that. He squared his shoulders, the severity not moving from his face.
“Her name his Y/N,” he continued, heart thudding in his chest. “She hails from a village in the human lands, and she’s magnificent. She helps run her father’s inn. She plays piano stunningly…” stop talking, stop talking, stop talking. Facts were just spilling from his lips, dumping themselves on his friends. He clamped his lips shut, squeezing his hands together again.
And once more, silence.
Until Cassian peered closely at him and stated, “You’re not joking, are you?”
The shadowsinger shook his head. “No.”
Rhysand’s chair creaked as he sat up straight. “Well…how did you meet this woman?”
“When you sent me to the human lands to get an idea of the unrest there. I heard her playing piano late at night and I…I went back to hear more. And I kept going back, despite you telling me not to. I’m sorry for going against your order, Rhys, but I’m not sorry for the reason that I did.”
The High Lord and Lady shared a glance, clearly communicating mind-to-mind. Az wasn’t sure he wanted to know what they were saying.
Mor cleared her throat, coaxing Az’s eyes to her beautiful face. There was kindness there, warmth. “And you say you love her, Az?”
“I do, Mor. Since I first met her, I’ve fallen harder and harder.” His cheeks burned a furious red. “I can’t deny that that is what I’m feeling. And that’s why I want to share this with you all.”
The initial shock seemed to dissipate a little as shoulders around the table relaxed. Mor smiled broadly, and Cassian quickly followed.
“No way,” the Illyrian General chirped. “That’s amazing, Az.”
“We’re happy for you, Az, of course,” Feyre added. “Just a little surprised.”
“You should bring her here to meet us,” Amren grinned, flashing white teeth. “If she can hack it.”
Her remark was as close as she would come to congratulating Azriel — but the sentiment was there, hidden amongst the words.
Of them all, Elain was the only one who hadn’t spoken.
And Az…Az, for some reason, avoided looking at her.
“Funny you should say that, Amren,” he quickly said. “I’ve invited her to come here tonight, after she’s closed up the inn. I want her to see Velaris at night, in all its brilliance.”
“So we’ll get to meet her,” Mor grinned wider. “This is great—”
“If—if she’s available to come, that is.” The shadowsinger quickly cut in.
Because he had to be realistic and still consider the possibility that Y/N would reject his offer. And if that was the case…well, he couldn’t bear to think of it right now.
He certainly couldn’t bear to share that particular detail with the others. Not just yet.
“Well,” Rhys offered a smile, “if she is available, we’ll be delighted to meet her, Az. Really.”
“Yes,” Elain’s voice, soft and unconvincing, finally drifted around the table. “We will.”
At the same moment, Azriel’s gaze drifted to take her in. She looked…shocked. Perhaps a little perturbed.
But for what reason? She and Lucien were giving things a go. Shouldn’t Azriel be able to do the same?
He tore his eyes away from her, dipping his chin in quiet acknowledgement of her comment. That was all he could offer right then.
“I hope she comes,” Feyre commented, sipping her drink. Her voice was bright, enthusiastic.
“So do I,” Azriel agreed.
Gods, he really did.
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Ale sloshed over the lip of a tankard, joining the smattering of droplets that were already coating the floor and making it sticky. The rowdy men in your line of sight didn’t seem to notice the mess they were making amidst their rowdiness. They’d been here a good few hours, now. Their eyes had long turned glazed, their speech slurred.
It was all background noise.
Background noise, as you stood behind the bar, staring into space. Time was ticking by, the clock hands crawling steadily closer to when Azriel would arrive and wait for you with hope.
Ten o’clock chimed. Two hours to go. Were you going to join him? You weren’t sure. You’d been contemplating it the entire day, on so few hours sleep. You’d gone through the motions, done your jobs, been that normal, plain young woman who was in charge of The Bluebird Inn. You’d compiled pros and cons in your head, the list of them growing with each thought.
Pros and cons, however, seemed not to come into a situation driven so heavily by desire.
You wanted to believe Azriel so badly — believe that he was good. Was it so out of the question that such a thing could be the case? It didn’t diminish what you had seen out on the road with your father, but…
But after weeks of no contact, having Azriel close enough to touch last night…it had you hoping, once more, that both things could be true. That the world was not so black and white, and there was colour out there, a world of colour that Azriel could fly you right into—
Before you realised what you were doing, your hand was grasping the bell behind the bar. You tugged at the rope, causing a distinct ringing to cut through the arrogant raucous of the men.
“Last orders!” you called.
Every pair of eyes swivelled to blink at you. “What?” One man asked.
“Last orders,” you repeated.
“But it’s only ten o’clock! You don’t close until midnight!”
It was an effort not to roll your eyes. This group had been here since they’d stumbled in from their day’s work. The idea of cutting their drinking short was inconceivable to them.
But you were going. You were going to join Azriel, and go across the Wall, and experience things you’d never experienced, whether it was a good idea or not.
“I’m closing early tonight,” you gave a shrug.
The brute that had been spilling ale all over the floor gaped at you. “Why?”
Good question. You couldn’t exactly tell them the truth, and if this was going to get back to your father, you at least needed a valid excuse—
“I’m unwell,” you tried unconvincingly. “Sorry.”
Swine-like eyes narrowed on you. “You don’t look unwell, girl.”
“…It’s my cycle.”
A silent pause. And then, in an instant, every man in the room was on his feet. You tried not to smile in triumph; it worked every time.
They couldn’t leave quick enough, as though, if you truly were on your cycle, it was somehow contagious. You saw the last customer out of the door and bolted it shut. Waited until their chatter disappeared into the distance before you turned and began a frantic cleanup mission.
This was…mad. Truly, thrillingly mad. A reckoning of sorts, you imagined, because crossing that boundary from one realm into another was like sealing a fate. There was no coming back from this — this, that was not merely dipping your toe into the world of the fae, but submerging yourself in it, taking a deep gulp of air and disappearing beneath its surface. A nerve-wracking prospect, but…also an exciting one.
And didn’t it prove to you that you still trusted Azriel at least a little? You had to, surely, to be so willing to take his hand and let him pull you into the unknown.
Perhaps…perhaps you were tired of having that little bit of doubt. Tired of wondering what might be out there, beyond your meagre existence. This trip would surely put those doubts to bed, one way or another.
Two hours until Azriel’s arrival seemed both too much time and not enough at all. You filled it with your usual closing duties, making quick work of tidying up and making sure the inn was spotless. Afterwards, you would ordinarily spend some time at the piano, or simply retire to bed. Tonight, your feet carried you upstairs to get ready.
You combed your hair and changed your outfit choice too many times, not once recognising the girl who stared back at you in the mirror. She was somebody bold and daring — somebody willing to question what she’d always known.
And you wanted to be her, no matter the fears twisting your stomach.
Once ready, there wasn’t much time left to wait. You quelled your nerves by knocking back a glass of whiskey and welcoming the burn. Your eyes stayed on the clock. Eleven-thirty. Thirty-five. Forty. Fifty-five.
When you heard the distant chimes of the village clock announcing midnight, you felt that familiar sensation of awareness. Like an ember under your skin, it burned, and it spread.
You wiped whiskey from your lips and slipped out of the door, stepping into the courtyard. You were cold, despite the warm night.
And even colder when you felt the gust of air that came from a descending figure, landing feather-light in front of you.
Azriel was almost too beautiful to bear.
You stared at him with an intensity you couldn’t keep a lid on. And he stared back at you, took in your shirt and breeches, your braided back hair, your shoes. He clocked within a second that you were dressed to go out — a breath of relief forced its way out of him.
“You’re coming?” he breathed, and then shook his head, seeming to remember his manners. “Sorry. Hello.”
You swallowed. “Hello.”
He paused. Dared a step closer. “I half expected to find you in your nightgown. Or to not see you at all.”
“I…contemplated it. Not coming, I mean.”
Another step. “And what tipped the scales in my favour?”
You sucked in a breath, inhaling his scent. He was close enough to touch, now, and the smell of wind mixed with his natural aroma, creating a dizzying concoction that, for a moment, had you forgetting how to speak.
You shook yourself out of it, blinking a few times. “I think I’m tired. Tired of…only knowing what I’ve been told. I think it’s time I saw things for myself.”
Azriel’s broad shoulders seemed to relax a little. A beat passed of heavy silence, heavy eye contact. He stared at you like you were the only person left in the entire world.
And then you jolted just a little, as cold, scarred fingers touched yours in a light, tentative brush. He waited to see if you would pull away.
You didn’t.
Those fingers explored more. Wrapped around yours. Laced with yours. And then Azriel was holding your hand in his.
“Let me share my world with you,” he whispered.
Maybe it was the weight of his hand, or maybe the raw pleading in his tone. Whatever it was…you knew you didn’t need any more time to consider.
“Yes.” Was all you managed to respond. “Yes.”
Just like that, Azriel was yanking you closer, pulling your body flush to his. You waited to feel your feet leave the ground, for him to lift you into the air.
It took you a moment to register that his arms were winding around you tightly in an embrace. That it was a hug he’d so fiercely pulled you into.
He held you, both firmly and gently, his chin pressed to the top of your head, his hand cradling the back of it. You were stunned, stiff as a statue — but then you were sinking into his hold and welcoming its security, its…passion.
“I can’t tell you how relieved I am,” Azriel murmured, pulling back to gaze at you. “Truly — thank you. For trusting me with this.”
“I haven’t made any decisions yet,” you pointed out. “I just want to see for myself…if what you’re saying is true.”
But even as you spoke, you knew it wasn’t that simple. Heading across the Wall with Azriel was sealing a fate far bigger than you’d stopped to consider. Whether you were ready for it was anyone’s guess.
The shadowsinger took your words in his stride, nodding. His hand found yours again. “Shall we go?”
You were really doing this. The idea made your head spin.
But you did not pull away. You did not run back inside, no matter how much a tiny part of you screamed at you to do so. Perhaps you were stronger than that now.
“Yes,” you nodded, and braced yourself. “We shall.”
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Flying was precisely as you remembered — exhilarating and terrifying and cold. The night sky eddied past you in a star-streaked blur, and you were soaring, hurtling forwards towards a world unknown.
You and Azriel did not speak. He seemed content to leave you in your thoughts, though you felt his gaze on you more than once, drinking you in. You couldn’t help wondering what he was thinking. Whether he deliberately chose to press you firmly against him and rub soothing circles into the small of your back, or whether it was a subconscious thing.
You closed your eyes at one point, focusing on the feeling of the chilled wind on your face.
But it was another feeling that had you suddenly alert. Opening your eyes again.
It was hard to explain, but…something like a staticky charge crackled and sparked. You knew that the Wall was not a physical thing to behold, but rather an invisible barrier…yet somehow, you knew that was what you were feeling. Like a huge sign in bold, screaming at you: TURN BACK. DO NOT COME ANY CLOSER.
“I can feel it, too,” Azriel spoke into your ear, as though he’d read your thoughts. It was the first words that had left him since he’d carried you to the skies, and they were soothing and warm against you. “It’s the magic. Those who built the Wall abhorred the idea of humans and fae alike crossing over. I think the feeling it offsets is supposed to repel people.”
You held onto him a little tighter as the feeling grew stronger. “Clearly it doesn’t work.”
“No.” His eyes found yours. “Not when there are such enticing reasons to cross.”
You were thankful that the wind put a stop to the furious blush that crept up your neck. You stared forward, and Azriel’s arms tightened around you, and you knew that you were about delve into another realm.
“Ready?” he murmured, before that charge thrust its way through your body like a bolt of lightning.
It was brief and yet nauseating. Your stomach lurched, your head spinning. And then, as if clearing fog, it was gone. You had the distinct feeling of being someplace completely alien — a place where the grass was greener, the scents richer. A place where magic was the blood in its veins, snaking through the ground beneath you and breathing vibrant life into the land.
But you had barely a chance to take in your surroundings before Azriel was coaxing your eyes back to him.
“Now that we’re in Prythian,” he said, seeming to visibly relax, “I’ll winnow us from here.”
You gave the briefest glance to your surroundings — a forest so like the many in the human realm, and yet also something more. The thrum of dangerous life seemed to lurk just beneath its surface, and with the moon bearing down on you, you didn’t much like the idea of waiting around to see what might emerge from the dark. You dipped your head into a nod, and Azriel’s arms tightened around you.
But before he could make a move, you were speaking, stopping him in his tracks. “There’s something I don’t understand.”
He paused, head angling curiously. It made a few dark hairs slide across his forehead, and the urge to reach out and touch the silken strands was a burning one.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“You want to show me your home, but why show me at night time, when the world is asleep?” Besides the fact that this was the only time you could sneak away from the prying eyes of villagers.
But Azriel’s mouth seemed to lift into a subtle, beautiful smile. One that was telling — but telling of what?
“Velaris does not sleep,” he said, and then you were disappearing into starlight.
A brief burst of darkness that lurched you from place to another. The feeling of both flying and falling, of being nowhere and everywhere all at once. And then your feet were suddenly on solid ground.
You didn’t realise you’d closed your eyes until the sounds hit you first. Distant music, mingled with crisp laughter. The sounds of enjoyment, fulfilment. You snapped your gaze open to put a picture to what you were hearing.
You went so preternaturally still, you could almost be mistaken as fae.
You must have been perched upon a viewpoint, to see the city in its entirety like this — but not too far up to miss the details. Restaurants teeming with activity both inside and out front, gatherings of customers who talked and smiled and laughed without a care in the world. Vendors selling their wares despite the late hour, peddling anything from food to wooden carvings to flowers. People wrapped in each other’s arms and dancing merrily to a song that a young female strummed on a lute in the busy street.
If not for the dark blanket of stars above your head, you could be forgiven for thinking it was daytime. Your shoddy little village was never this bright nor light, no matter the hour on the clock.
This was Velaris, and it truly did not sleep.
You stared and stared and stared, for so long that your vision began to blur and smear the lights below into swirling shapes. It was almost easy to forget you were alone, just you observing this beautiful, seemingly perfect world. But a hand touched your arm.
“Would you like to take a walk?” Azriel asked, coaxing you to look at him.
Such palpable hope sat within his gaze that you couldn’t bear to look away. And when you nodded your agreement, that hope shifted into damn near elation.
The city seemed to welcome you into its arms as you began a slow stroll right through the heart of it. Azriel gave you your space, always remaining a few paces away. You could have sworn, in your periphery, that you caught him clenching his hands now and then, as though he didn’t know what to do with them. As though all he wanted was to reach out to you.
But he left you to acquaint yourself with the sights and sounds and sensations of Velaris. Never had you been amongst so many fae, and you half expected them to sniff out your mortality, to turn and stare or even make a grab for you. If they noticed you were not one of them, they paid it no mind, barely casting you a glance. Some of them greeted Azriel cheerily as they made merry and socialised. Not a drop of misery seemed to taint the blood of this living, pulsing place.
You came to a stop on a grand bridge that arched over a glinting river, its waters stretching further out than your human vision could comprehend. Only a moment after you leaned against the carved balustrade, Azriel was emerging in your peripheral vision, stopping beside you and mirroring your stance.
You could feel his gaze on you. And after a moment, he asked, “How are you feeling?”
A slow, stunned shake of your head was all you could manage. That was a question that had many different answers. You weren’t sure which one to give.
But you found yourself turning to him, your brow pinched, lips parted. “I don’t understand how any of this works. What…what is this place?”
Velaris, obviously — you knew that much. But was the entire fae realm like this? Was this what had been hiding on the other side of the Wall in the centuries since it was established?
Azriel seemed to think on your question for a moment, combing through his answer. He angled his body towards yours, the way his hands twisted around each other hinting that he was…nervous.
“When I took you flying the first time, I mentioned that Prythian is divided into seven courts,” he explained slowly. “Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, Dawn, Day and Night. Do you remember what else I told you?”
How could you forget? You’d turned it over in your mind enough that the words had begun to fray at the seams.
“You said you’re from the Night Court. That you’re part of the High Lord’s inner circle. You’re his spymaster.” Your gaze swept around. “So this is the Night Court.”
Azriel dipped his chin. “It is. But it’s a city in the Night Court. A secret, guarded city. There’s more out there than just this.”
“Secret and guarded? Why?”
For a moment, silence stretched between you that felt as long as the winding bridge. You found yourself focusing on the ebb and flow of the water beneath you, watching its languid dance. Until warm fingers landed on your arm.
The touch — tentative and gentle — coaxed your gaze back to Azriel. You studied him, drank in the sincerity and openness on his face. This was hard for him, you realised — to be so forward, to bare all. He was, perhaps, as guarded and secretive as this city itself. Perhaps more.
But his soft hazel eyes told you that he wanted to push through that difficulty. For you.
“It’s secret and guarded,” he answered huskily, “because it is beautiful and good, and the entirety of the Night Court is not. The entirety of Prythian is not. There are other places like this, of vibrancy and love and light, and then there are places of pure, evil darkness. Places that I would never dream of you venturing. They exist as truly as the good places do. As Velaris does.”
Once again, your eyes took in the area around you. On the other side of the bridge, a couple were hunched over a table, in their own world, sharing quiet words and quick kisses. A few buildings down, a group of friends roared with laughter as they spilled out of the door, arms around each other and happiness on their faces.
This place was beautiful. It was…life.
And the existence of darker places did not change that, did not steal its essence. Good and bad both simply existed. In people, and in places.
Just like in the human lands.
Just like Azriel had been trying to tell you all along.
“There’s good and bad everywhere…” you murmured quietly, the words sinking in, hitting home. How could you deny it when the people here clearly were not scared, not running and screaming and begging for their lives?
There was movement, and you felt Azriel’s side press against yours. “There is.”
And you could see it now, like a fog had been lifted. But there was still one pressing question that plagued you. One you couldn’t tamp down on as you angled yourself towards Azriel proper.
“Why bother, though?” you asked, studying him. “Why go to these lengths to prove this to me? You don’t owe me anything. Why…why would you bother taking the time to make me see this?”
Azriel gazed back at you, something burning in his eyes. He pursed his lips, like he was trying to force his words back down, trying to stop them spilling out.
A fight he ultimately lost.
“Because I am selfish,” he said, staring at you fiercely. “And I couldn’t bear the thought of not being able to see you anymore. Of you thinking I’m a monster. I would not care if anyone else were to think so, but…”
“…but what?”
“But not my Bluebird.” His voice was raw, raspy. He reached out cautiously, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Not my Blue.”
A breath shuddered out of you, and with it went your resolve. You knew you could no longer fight what been pressing you for a while, now. Could no longer deny what was right in front of you.
You cleared your throat, feeling the shivers that pulsed through your skin with Azriel’s hand still hovering so close to it. So badly, you wanted to lean into it. But you forced your gaze back to the brilliant city of Velaris.
“Life seems so lovely here,” you admitted, your voice surprisingly hoarse.
“It is,” Azriel concurred. “It really is. And you, Y/N…you deserve loveliness.”
You stared fiercely at the water, begging yourself not to get choked up. You’d never had loveliness.
A warm, comforting hand pressed against the small of your back. You shamelessly allowed it to.
“Would you like to meet my family?” the shadowsinger asked.
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You were going to be sick — and not from the flying.
Your feet touched down on a beautiful, ornate estate — grass trimmed and decorated with fountains, ornaments, decorative hedges. Trees and obscure plants and beautiful flowers. Never had you been anywhere so grand.
And before you — a huge, stunning house of pillars, winding staircases, giant windows and just…pure opulence. It intimidated you just to look at.
“This is…this is where they live? Your…High Lord and High Lady?” The words felt foreign on your tongue.
“It is.” As Azriel stepped up to your side, you realised his arm was still wrapped around you. “Did I ever tell you she used to be human — my High Lady?”
Your gaze shot to him in a flash. “What? How is that possible?”
“It’s a long, elaborate story that I’ll allow her to tell you, when she feels like it. But it’s true — she and her two sisters were once human, and they were all turned fae.”
A thought that set your heart thudding at a gallop. Had they once been lowly village girls, like you were? You hadn’t considered that you might have anything in common with these people.
“Shall we?” Azriel’s arm tightened around you, and you welcomed it. You needed the grounding comfort.
With a deep breath and a nod, you allowed yourself to be led up the broad stone steps that trailed up to the mammoth front entrance. You followed Azriel’s lead, wide-eyed as he opened the front door like it was his home, also, and led you inside.
The interior was, unsurprisingly, as decadent as the exterior, but you found yourself too nervous to take in any details beyond polished marble flooring and huge, painted portraits that hung on the wall of beautiful beings. You did, however, stop to take in the portrait that was undoubtedly Azriel.
“Feyre — our High Lady — is an artist.” Azriel stopped beside you. “She painted all of these.”
“And a damn excellent artist, too.” Behind you, a voice of pure, cloaked night echoed through the giant room. It added with a hint of glimmering humour, “Not that I’m biased, of course.”
You turned at once, knowing that such a voice could never come from a human. Your heart almost stopped at the sight of the male who leaned against a carved arch, and you blushed furiously at the thought that he could probably hear such a thing.
He certainly resembled Azriel, in his golden skin and dark hair. But his eyes were of a stark, peculiar shade — violet — and his ears very much pointed. Something about the smug ease with which he stood screamed at you that this — this was the High Lord of the Night Court, looking regal in a black button-up shirt and dark trousers.
And beside him, a woman — female — of such otherworldly beauty, it was hard to imagine that her golden-brown hair and blue eyes had ever been dulled by mortality.
“He is biased,” she said with a soft smile, fondness in her eyes. She drank in the sight of you, and there was no judgement, no disapproval — just simple curiosity. “Y/N. Welcome to our home.”
“This is Rhysand and Feyre,” Azriel explained beside you. “High Lord and High Lady.”
“Rhysand?” The High Lord echoed jovially. “You sound like Feyre when she tells me off. Just Rhys will do,” he sketched you a flourishing bow, “and as my beautiful mate said — welcome to our home.”
“I…I’m afraid I don’t know the customs, where greeting a High Lord or Lady is concerned,” you cleared your throat. “But thank you for having me.”
Feyre smiled warmly. “You’re very welcome. Shall we get a drink? The others are waiting.”
Your stomach turned with nerves, but you nodded. As Azriel stepped forward, falling into stride with Rhysand, Feyre stayed behind, turning to you.
“It’s nerve-wracking, isn’t it?” she smiled at you gently. “I had already been turned fae when I first came here, but…I can’t imagine coming here as a human who’s never had much to do with our kind.”
Our kind. Clearly her mortal roots were but a distant memory.
“It is,” you agreed. “This is…hugely out of my comfort zone.”
“Just stick with me, Y/N. But you have nothing to worry about.” Her smile grew. “We’re all just happy that Azriel has found someone. Even Elain.”
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Even Elain. What the hell did that even mean?
It stuck in your mind as you held yourself through introductions, your curiosity such that you were waiting for an Elain to be introduced to. But through the names that were thrown at you — Cassian, Amren, Morrigan, Nesta — that one did not come up.
The tiny Amren was terrifying despite her small stature, and yet you found her quick wit and remarks to be personable. Morrigan — Mor — had invited you to sit with her the second the introductions were over, and she seemed almost…excited by your presence. Cassian was jovial, warm, quickly making it clear that he would joke and banter with you as much as he would with his family.
Ironic, then, that the least forthcoming with any warmth was Nesta — who surely could relate to your humanity, even if her own was long gone.
She’d barely spoken to you beyond a terse greeting. And since then, she’d stared you down from the other end of the table. You couldn’t help noticing that her eyes continuously darted to the round edges of your ears. You couldn’t read the ferocity in her gaze.
It was an effort to ignore it as conversation bloomed around the table.
“So he was just hovering above your inn like a little creep?” Cassian’s broad grin was savage, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he plied you with questions. “You should have shot him down with an arrow. Taught him a lesson.”
Your lips twitched as you answered, “Somebody else saw to that. I just ended up helping him.”
“Boo.” The Illyrian warrior snorted. “How boring.”
Beside you, Azriel rolled his eyes, but a soft smile played on his lips that told you he rather enjoyed the teasing. You couldn’t help relaxing at the…normality of it all. How easy and light and warm this conversation was.
How naive you had been, to assume that the fae were simply cold, severe beings. The furthest thing from this loving family unit. It didn’t even seem to be a bizarre circumstance to them, that they had been gathered to meet at such a late hour. If not for the huge windows letting the night sky in, you’d be forgiven for thinking that their energy and enthusiasm was indicative of day time.
“From which village do you hail, Y/N?” Feyre asked you, sipping from her wine. You’d tried not to stare too long at the casual intimacy between the High Lord and Lady — the little touches you so naturally wanted to mimic with the male beside you. She added, “Perhaps Nesta and I would have heard of it.”
At that, Nesta lifted her chin a little. You could have sworn a glimmer of curiosity streaked through her eyes, there and gone in an instant.
“Northern Swancross.” You answered, eyes darting around the opulent dining room. “It isn’t anything grand. “Most of its residents are living in poverty.”
Feyre sipped her drink, offering an understanding nod. “Perhaps too far north for us. I don’t recognise the name—”
“I do,” Nesta said sharply — the first time she’d really spoken to you. “I remember reading a pamphlet once, about fae attacks on human villages. Northern Swancross was named in regards to an attack there a couple of decades ago.”
Silence and stillness filled the space that conversation had lit up moments before. Your mouth went dry. You felt the cool touch of a shadow caressing your arm.
“That would have been my mother,” you answered, clearing your throat.
Nesta stared at you a long moment, a slither of what seemed to be…solidarity…seeping through the cracks of her icy reception. She lowered her chin in the slightest of dips, and somehow, you knew exactly what that minute gesture communicated. We have both suffered at the hands of the fae. And yet, somehow, here we both are.
“That’s awful,” Rhysand’s voice cut through the moment, quiet and laced with sympathy. “I’m sorry for the loss of your mother. We all are.”
You nodded. “Thank you.”
“Nesta, Elain and I also lost our mother,” Feyre supplied. “To illness, rather than to the fae. But we understand what the loss of a parent is like. Many of us here do.”
A kind and heartbreaking sentiment, and yet all you could focus on was the mention of that name again. Elain. She must have been the third sister.
You didn’t know why you felt such preying curiosity about her standing in this group…or her standing with Azriel, and why her support for his happiness was a thing Feyre felt was worth mentioning. You couldn’t stop yourself wondering if her absence was a deliberate thing.
As if she’d read that thought, Feyre cleared her throat. “You’ll have to forgive Elain’s absence. She’s not much of a night owl.”
“Despite living in the Night Court,” Cassian added, and his booming chuckle at once chased away the tension that had seeped into the room. He grabbed the bottle of wine and refilled his glass. “So tell us more about you, Y/N.”
You did exactly that — and found yourself peculiarly willing to do so. Such a sheltered life you’d lived with no one to truly call a friend, that it now seemed that years of pent-up conversation came flooding out of you. And as hours ticked by, pedalling closer towards morning, you found yourself relaxing, forgetting that you were human and they were fae. They were just…people. Kind, good people.
And in turn for the information you shared with them, they told you about themselves, answered your questions, explained things you didn’t understand. Mor spoke to you like she’d known you for years rather than minutes. Even Nesta’s reservedness began to thin into something more cordial. One-by-one, the High Lord’s Inner Circle pulled you into its fold as if a place for you had been carved there for a very long time.
They did not balk — not even a little — at the idea of you being of worth in Azriel’s life.
Azriel himself was largely quiet throughout the night. He seemed to take a backseat and allow you to navigate this situation as you saw fit, only interjecting with comments and responses every now and then. But at your side, he remained a solid, steadfast presence, his shadows a thing of comfort. And the urge to lean against him as the night wore on was a pressing, growing one.
You didn’t want to resist anymore. Didn’t want to take a step backwards. You’d seen what he’d wanted to show you, and there were no more weak excuses you could come up with as to why your involvement with Azriel was a bad idea.
You wanted him…and you were done denying yourself him.
It was only when the night drew to a close that you began to feel the tiredness waiting on the edges of your mind. Nesta was the first to leave, and soon after that, everyone else was standing and saying their goodbyes.
“You’ll come back soon?” Feyre asked you, her hands squeezing yours. She seemed genuinely thrilled that Azriel had brought you here.
You glanced at the shadowsinger beside you, a smile playing on your lips. “If he’s willing to bring me.”
A soft, low chuckle sounded in Azriel’s chest. But there was nothing comical about the way he promised, “Whenever you want.”
Bidding the High Lord and Lady goodnight, you descended the front steps with a lightness that you hadn’t felt upon arrival. Tonight had been…easy. Simple. There was nothing more to it than merely getting to know Azriel’s friends. Getting to know Azriel’s world.
And when the doors closed behind you, it was just you and him alone, for the first time in hours.
He strolled at your side, back through the opulent front garden. Neither of you seemed to know who would speak first.
Until you turned to him and said, “Thank you for bringing me here.”
Az stared back at you, pausing for the slightest of moments. “To the River House?”
“And to Velaris. To…to Prythian.” You, too, paused. “To the truth, I suppose.”
His chin dipped just slightly. “You deserve the truth.”
A few paces forward, you walked in silence. It wasn’t until you were under the canopy of a huge, overhanging tree that you pressed your back against the trunk and allowed yourself to stare at him. Properly stare at him. To take in his beauty.
He stopped a few steps away, asking, “What?”
So many things you wanted to say. I’m done fighting this. I’m done fighting us. I want to dive further into this world with you. I want you, Azriel, whatever the hell that means for me—
“Who is Elain?” The words spilled, unplanned and undignified, from your lips. Your eyes shuttered for a moment as you regained your composure. “I mean…I know who she is. I know she’s Feyre’s and Nesta’s sister. I just mean…who is she…to you?”
Azriel was still for a moment, his brow pinching slightly. He took a step closer. “She’s…a friend.”
“…just a friend?”
“I…I won’t deny that I wondered, at one time, if she might be more than that.” His scent hit you as he continued to step closer. “But she has a mate. And I wondered that before…before I met you.”
The bark of the tree bit into your back as you held yourself firmly, grounding yourself in the moment. You inhaled a small breath, trying to ignore the dizziness that his general proximity seemed to provoke. But as he stepped closer still, now mere inches from you, you knew you were fighting a losing battle.
Still, you lifted your chin and stared up at him. Stared, as he closed the gap between your two bodies and pressed you further against that tree, his body seeming to line perfectly with yours despite your height difference. His breath tickled your neck as he leaned into your ear.
“Were you worried about that, Blue?” he asked huskily, a smile in his voice.
You couldn’t control the way your breath hitched in your throat. Lie, save face, deny it, your mind screamed at you. You weren’t sure you currently had the mental capacity to do so.
“You said you’ve had lovers,” you rasped back. “I was just wondering if, perchance, Elain had been one of them.”
A mix of both relief and disappointment filled you as Azriel pulled back — not far, but simply enough to stare sincerely into your eyes. His face was open and soft, despite the teasing that had been in his tone.
“No.” His tone was a promise. “Elain has never been my lover. I don’t…I don’t want you to worry about that. About her.”
Your shoulders relaxed just slightly. But as your gaze began to lower from his, his hand was suddenly at your face, cupping your jaw, holding your attention firmly on him.
“It’s been a long, heavy night for you,” he murmured, studying you closely. “I want you to tell me honestly how you’re feeling.”
Perhaps the most loaded question he could have asked. You swallowed, slowly shaking your head. “I…I’m feeling lots of things. Relief…that what you told me about this place was true. Shame…that I was obstinate in my ignorance—”
“You do not need to feel one bit of shame. There are always two sides of the coin—”
“And fear. I feel scared.”
Your words lingered between the two of you, truthful and unwavering. They were out in the open, now. You found yourself not wanting to keep them to yourself.
“I feel scared,” you repeated, “because I have nothing to hide behind, now. I can’t run and deny what I feel. You’ve shown me the truth, and I…I can no longer deny my own.”
His hand still cupping your face, Azriel brushed his thumb over your cheek. His eyes remained fully trained on you, not willing to look away for a second.
“There is no going back from this night,” you whispered, staring back at him. “And I’m glad about that. But I’m also so scared.”
“I don’t ever want you to feel scared. Not with me.” His hushed words, spoken quietly for your ears only, landed on your lips. “I just want to make you happy, Blue.”
It took a moment for you to realise that the soft noise that sounded — a small cry of both relief and need — came from you. You couldn’t hold yourself back any longer. You were done with resisting.
Your hand cupped the back of Azriel’s head, and you pulled it down, slanting your mouth over his. At once, he hummed against your lips and moved his hands to your waist, pulling you closer against him.
This was everything. Azriel was everything. He just wanted to make you happy, and you wanted to make him happy, too. He was not fae or a shadowsinger or a huge, imposing figure with wings. He was just Azriel. Your Azriel. Your salvation.
The male you were so, so glad to have been proved wrong about. The male you were falling in love with.
Your tongue pressed against the seam of his lips, and he parted them for you, allowing you to dip inside. At once, his taste mingled with yours, and you moaned softly, your hands grasping at him, wanting to feel him against you as you kissed him harder, fiercer.
And he kissed you back just as ferociously. You may have been inexperienced, but you knew the taste of desire on his tongue, and you knew exactly what you were feeling when he hardened against you, his arms banded around you.
“Blue,” he broke away, panting. His eyes were glazed as he stared down at you, his chest rising and falling heavily. “We’re getting carried away. Tell me what you want. I need to know what you want.”
Him. All of him. Every single inch of him.
Your eyes trailed down to the hardness that was unmistakably outlined through his leathers. Such stark hunger bolted through you that it sent shivers coursing down your spine. Had wetness pooling between your legs.
And from the way Azriel’s nostrils flared, and a deep, guttural noise vibrated in his chest, you could only guess that he’d scented it.
You pushed up onto your toes, brushing another kiss to your mouth. A light one that he seemed ready to get lost in, before you were pulling away, your eyes clashing with his again.
“I want you to take me back to my home,” you told him breathlessly, your fingers biting into his leathers. “And I want you to stay.”
✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ
Not one bit of the journey was memorable. Not the flight back to the Wall, or that brief flash of darkness as you were winnowed from there, right back into the taproom at the Bluebird Inn.
Your only focus was on Azriel. The feel of his body pressed against yours, and how…how it would feel even better when you both rid yourself of clothing.
And gods, you were nervous. But you could feel in your very bones — you were ready.
This night had, indeed, been a reckoning. This night had, indeed, changed things forever, and made you realise that you had no good reason to deny yourself of the brilliant fae male who consumed your every thought.
You trusted Azriel. You wanted Azriel.
And when both your feet and his touched the wooden flooring of the inn, your eyes clashed only momentarily with his before you were pulling his face down to kiss you. And kiss you, he did.
It was hot and greedy and desperate, a kiss that could wait no longer. He made a low noise against your mouth, his hands finding your hips as he walked you backwards and pressed you against the bar. It was tongue and touching and too many clothes, and you were done waiting, done thinking, as you dragged a trembling hand down the firm feel of his leathers, down and down until you were cautiously folding your palm over the bulge in his pants.
You had no idea what exactly you were doing, but the way Azriel gasped against your lips seemed to be a positive reaction. One that only spurred you on further.
Even without properly seeing him, you could tell he was huge. Your hand barely fit over what pressed through his breeches. You explored the length of him, wishing that clothes weren’t in the way. That it was just skin on skin.
Azriel let out a choked moan — one that seemed pleasurable. Until he pulled away.
“Wait, Blue,” he panted, staring down at you. “Just…tell me you’re sure.”
You had gone past sure. Sure wasn’t a strong enough word. Sure was nothing against the certainty that roared in your veins.
“I am,” you promised, applying pressure with your hand. “Show me…show me what to do, Azriel.”
It was a pure, animalistic growl that broke from him then, and in one swift movement, he was lifting you up and carrying you over to the bar, perching you atop and slotting himself between your legs.
“I’m going to make you feel so good,” he kissed you. Kissed you again. Kissed you harder. “I promise, my bluebird.”
“Please,” you begged softly, grasping at his leathers. “I want you.”
Kisses deepened, turned more ferocious. Hands wandered, began roaming, exploring. You felt the cautious touch of a hand gliding over your breast, warm fingers permeating your shirt. You gasped, arching into the touch.
Perhaps that was why you didn’t hear it. Perhaps you were so distracted, so hungry for the male before you, that the quiet footsteps that approached were heard by neither of you. Not even by Azriel’s fae senses, his shadows.
No, you were both oblivious until a cold, stern voice filled the room.
“Y/N?” Devin stood against the doorframe, not taking his eyes off Azriel’s giant form. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ
bluebird tags: @kennedy-brooke @rosessndri @anae-naea-zacheria @iambored24601 @sirenpearldust @v3lv3tf0x @lupinswolfsbanes @alohaangels @feyretopia @janebirkln @a-dizzle777 @moonbirde @natashachelsea @navyblue-eternity @multi-reader @sfhsgrad-blog @makemeurvillain @lyinginameadow @101crows @bsenpai @honeyandhalfmoons @florencemtrash @ssmay123 @historygeekqueen @mika-no-sekai-blog @ktsskgzxlu @basicbittywitty @mybestfriendmademe @cali-flow3r @lalachat @honeybeeboobaa @azrielsbbg @eatinggummybearsisacrime @ilovemangomorethanu @rhysandorian @coralseacourt @berryzxx @pequeno-atlas @secretlyhers @grimoiregrl @just-jess-losers @happywolves81 @anama-cara @spideytingley @raccooninurwalls @despoinasstuff @ntimacy @brekkershadowsinger @ariaaira @lesehexe @aunicornmademedoit @fauxdette @moonlight-kr @sekiro1310 @fightmedraco @astarlitsoul @quinzzelx
#azriel#azriel fanfic#azriel acotar#azriel x reader#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acotar fandom#acotar x reader#acotar writing#acotar fanfic#acotar headcanon#acotar smut#acotar series#acomaf#acowar#acofas#acosf#azriel angst#azriel shadowsinger#azriel shadowsinger x reader#reader insert#azriel fic#acourtofwhatthefuck#bluebird#spymaster
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Feyre and Rhys at the starfall ✨️
#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#rhysand#rhysand acotar#feyre#feyre archeron#acomaf#a court of mist and fury#starfall#acotar fanart
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Glitz, Glam & Grand Prix
Formula One!Azriel x Reader
Summary: Set at the Las Vegas Grand Prix, you, as Ferrari's team Media Trainer, struggle with keeping both drivers in line.
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 1,887
Notes: Back again with another F1 AU 💙 so obsessed with this trope tbh
Belongs to the Off Grid collection.
_________________________________________
“I am not wearing this,” Azriel says flatly, staring at the garment in his hand in horror. He’s holding the hanger hook between a pinched thumb and forefinger, like the newly designed sequined bomber jacket might jump off the holder and strangle him.
He might prefer that.
“Yes, you are,” you answer, distractedly. Your phone buzzes in your hand, another email coming through. Something about a calendar change with the scheduled interviews for the two drivers you’re in charge of for media training. “You’re going to put that jacket on, just like all of the other drivers are doing, and you’re going to march your ass over to the social media team and do what they ask without complaint.”
You cut your—secret—boyfriend a harsh look that matches your no-nonsense tone. He holds your look for all of four seconds before giving in, returning to his glower to the garment in his hand instead. It’s smart of him, choosing not to start with you while you’re in Media Training mode, not secret girlfriend mode where you shoot him teasing grins and cheeky glances behind everyone’s backs.
“Give it here, old man,” Dorian Havilliard says, swiping the coat from him. You cringe, offering Azriel an apologetic smile that looks more like a grimace when his hazel gaze swings wildly to meet yours. As if you can do something about the driver tasing him. Azriel looks like he’s about two seconds from trying to lay Dorian—Ferrari’s newest recruit—out flat.
“I’m not even that old,” Azriel mutters, giving up before the arguing can even begin. The drivers haven’t started off on a good foot, Azriel upset about the realization that he’s getting older in this sport, and the looming fear that the rookie is going to replace him for his Driver 1 spot. For Dorian, he’s too naive yet to understand that he can learn a thing or two from the veteran driver. “Can I fake a stomach bug to get out of this one, ba—(Y/N)?” Azriel stutters, quickly catching his mistake.
Your eyes widen, but thankfully, Dorian doesn’t seem to notice, too enraptured with the design on the back of the bomber. Three dice line the back in white sequins, and instead of regular pips, the black of the dice spells out the acronym F1LVGP: Formula 1 Las Vegas Grand Prix.
It is pretty ugly, but you cannot wait to see your boyfriend in it.
Both drivers are set to shoot media in the very jackets that fans received with their purchase of tickets months ago. It’s going to be as gimmicky and cheesy as Azriel thinks it’s going to be, which is why you refrained from mentioning this specific part of the media tour to him this weekend.
“The fans are going to want to see you both in that jacket,” you explain, biting your lip at Dorian, who has zipped it up to his collarbones. It does look horrid, and there’s a part of you that wishes you could warn the social team about Azriel’s reluctant attitude. Hopefully, they don’t give him any props that might make him look even sillier. “It’s good for the team and the race. Plus, interaction gets us all paid, boys.”
Your phone pings with another important message, a call-in meeting with the Ferrari Public Relations team managers to develop key messages that align with the brand values, sponsor commitments, and team ethos.
With the two stubborn-minded drivers on your team, that part might prove to be difficult.
After that it’s crisis meetings with said drivers, training both Dorian and Azriel on how to efficiently deflect the potential damaging and sensitive questions about what happened in Brazil two weeks ago. Azriel is used to it, and as much as he hates the interview portion of his job, is trained well in answering these types of questions with tact and confidence.
Dorian, on the other hand, is still young and new to the team. The interviewers will no doubt single him out, sniffing out his fresh blood because he’s more likely to make a mistake. You already know that he’s a touch hot-headed when it comes to the obvious rift between the two Ferrari drivers, and if the interviewers pose a question that gives him room to get a word in about Azriel, you have no doubt that he’ll take it, even without realizing exactly how it could impact the team image.
You’re going to make sure that that doesn’t happen.
The rest of the weekend is planned out down to the minute. You’re not even sure you have a single free second to spend with Azriel.
Las Vegas is always exhausting.
“Hey, boss? When do we have some down time this weekend?” Dorian asks, as if he’s somehow reading your mind. You’re dreading this, having to tell a freshly turned twenty-one-year-old in Las Vegas for the first time that he’s not going to be able to go buck-wild. He’ll have to save that for a bye-week or a break. You’re here for business and racing this weekend, not strip-shows and high-hollers tables.
And while he may have an appearance at Omnia night club post-race on Sunday, you’ve tasked yourself with keeping an eye on the rookie, this weekend more so than during the rest of the races this season.
“Unlikely, Havilliard,” you answer, finally looking up from the calendar on your phone. He should really know by now how this all works—it’s race 22 for Mother’s sake—that everything is all work and no play until after the race, but as it’s Dorian’s first year in the big leagues, you have to give him the benefit of the doubt.
It’s been years since you worked with a rookie. You’ve been on Ferrari’s team for a while now, working with Azriel and veteran driver Rowan Whitethorn who accepted an offer from McLaren at the end of last season. It had been bliss, the both of them the most unproblematic drivers on the grid, letting their racing do the talking for them.
But it had been more difficult to get them to talk than you thought. The pair hadn’t been as personable to the world because of their stoic behavior, but when you were hired on, you whipped them into tip-top shape, both drivers the perfect media trained racers within all of Formula 1.
“We’re here for work. You’ll have some time after practice and the race, but Saturday night you’re not to be spotted in any clubs or casinos too late,” you explain, shoving your phone into your back pocket to give him your full attention when you say this. You watch your words settle within Dorian, his shoulders falling more and more as you continue. “You’re not to go overboard. That means no drinking, no gambling, no—”
“Fun?”
You sigh at his disheartened look. Maybe it would be alright if he spent some time with some of the veteran drivers, maneuvering Las Vegas along with them. He’ll find that he can still find fun in moderation. Too bad you know Azriel will cut that idea off at the neck.
“I know it sounds boring, Dorian,” you try easily, giving the young driver a sympathetic look. “It’s your first time in Las Vegas and that’s very exciting, but you really need to think hard about what you’re doing here because there are temptations, but there are so many cameras and eyes on you. If you can handle how things might be construed, you don’t have my blessing, but I can’t force you to sit in your hotel all weekend.”
Something sparks in those deep blue eyes at your hidden message. You’ve warned him and you’re not flat-out telling him that you’ll look the other way, that you’ll clean up a mess for him if he makes it, but he should get to live a little, at least.
You know that he’s unlikely to listen to you anyway, friends with a lot of the other young drivers who are just as excited to be in Las Vegas as Dorian is; Ruhn Danaan, Ithan Holstrom, and Tharion Ketos to name a few, with veteran driver Cassian Bailey taking them all under their wing.
That tiny detail means that you’re going to have your work cut out for you this season.
“You got it, boss,” Dorian salutes, shooting you the most innocent look he can muster.
Behind him, Azriel rolls his eyes, and you’re pretty sure you hear him mutter, “Kiss ass,” under his breath, which both you and Dorian effectively ignore.
You’re proud, he’s already learning.
“Alright, Dorian. You’re up first for bomber jacket media, I have something to talk about with Azriel, but we’ll be down soon. You know where you’re going?” You ask, even though his security detail is awaiting him in the hall outside of the suite.
“Of course,” Dorian nods, passing you with his phone already out in his hand. You give him all of three seconds before he begins posting Instagram stories about the hotel. “Thank you for everything, (Y/N).”
“My pleasure,” you answer, waiting until the door shuts behind him before spinning towards your boyfriend and pinning him with a stern look. “You need to stop being so negative, Az. Dorian is on your team and he’s here to stay, at least for the next two seasons until your contract ends. If you want Ferrari to keep you, the both of you will have to start getting along sooner rather than later, and Dorian is a sweetheart.”
“Not you too,” Azriel groans. “Come on, babe, no one can be that charming.”
You hum, stepping into your boyfriend’s warm body. If this is all the time you’re allowed this weekend, you’re going to take advantage of it. Azriel’s hands find your hips easily, a firm, comforting weight against your skin. “I seem to remember someone else that was quite charming when we met,” you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss that makes your heart race faster than the speed of his car.
“I was pretty charming, wasn’t I?” Azriel grins, waggling his eyebrows, and you love looking at him like this, happy, when his eyes crinkle in the corners with his smile, the slight dimple in his cheek deepening. He’s so handsome. “Want to go down to the Little White Chapel later and make this official?” Azriel teases and your heart fucking soars, even if he is only poking fun.
Someday the man in your arms won’t be a secret anymore. You’ll be able to flaunt him all over the world, build a life with him, love him not just in the shadows.
“Without a ring?” You joke right back, pinching his side. “I don’t think so, Az.”
“Baby, I’ll get you the biggest ring I can find,” Azriel’s words are husky, his breath hot against the shell of your ear as he dips his chin. “I’ll give you the whole damn world, (Y/N). I love you.”
“I love you too,” you respond breathlessly, and begin rethinking your refusal to marry him on the strip in Las Vegas without a ring. You’ll take him now, hell, you’ll even marry him in the sequined bomber jacket, you don’t care.
You just want to be his, not in secret anymore.
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Tagging people from the last F1 fic. If you don't want to be tagged just lmk 🥰
@iambored24601 @secretlyhers @kylaisra @daily-dose-of-sass @moosemahboi @devilsfoodcake22 @blackthorngirl @brieflyclassymortal @starsdoulikedem @cami26cami @justasillylittlegoofyguy @milswrites @navyblue-eternity @kennedy-brooke @mimsie95 @shadowsingersmate24 @piceous21 @skyjasper @soulessjourney @despoinasstuff @weasleyreidstyles @marrass @favfantasyreads @fairywriter-oracle @georgiastars13 @blueblondi @namelesssav @tothestarsandwhateverend @brekkershadowsinger
#acotar#azsazz#acomaf#azriel x reader#azriel/reader#acowar#azriel#azriel shadowsinger#formulaone!azriel
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“Eyes On Me.”
Based on this request
Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader
Summary: plotless smut
Warnings: Smut | Minors DNI | 18+ only | p in v | oral (f receiving) | cream pie | mirror sex | dom/sub dynamics | praise/degradtion kink
2.2k words
I stepped from the warm bath and was immediately hit with cold air. I shivered at the sensation and instinctually reached for the towel on its rack but I was met with empty space. I gasped and looked at the rack, finding nothing to dry myself off with. I stared at the area shivering like I might be able to conjure one.
I groan, my hair dripping and leaving a mess on the tile floor.
"Everything okay love?" My mate asks from the other side of the door.
"Yeah, fine, can you grab me a towel?" I say through the wood. I got no reply but his footsteps were the next thing I heard, which was enough of a response for me.
I find a rag and run it under warm water, beginning to wipe my makeup away, droplets of water running down my arms, my hair sticking to the rest of my body when I toss it back over my shoulder.
The door cracked open and I was startled. Azriel peeked his head in. "It's just me," He said as I hugged my arms to my chest protectively. "Here," He hands me my towel and I immediately wrap it around myself, thanking him softly as I do so.
He enters the bathroom and closes the door behind him. I look at him curiously but he only smiles down at me. I lifted onto my toes and pressed a soft kiss to his lips to convey my gratitude. His hands came to the backs of my thighs and he hoisted me up onto the bathroom counter, my legs parted for his hips to come between. "Let me do this," He takes the warm rag from my hands and resumes my task himself.
His touches with the rag are featherlight, making the kohl under my eyes disappear and my red-painted lips return to their natural shade. "My pretty girl," He hummed when he finished, leaning in and pressing a tender kiss to my forehead. "Thanks, Az," I murmur, taking the rag from him and tossing it into the hamper in the corner of the room. He pecked down the side of my face, my jaw, until finding my neck. His kisses there tickle, making a giggle bubble from the base of my chest as he continues his route down the column of my throat, my clavicle. "What are you doing, Az?" I say with a teasing tone to my voice, he continues downward, my towel parts, and I allow him to map my body with his mouth further, down my sternum, closer and closer to my abdomen. "Just let me take care of my pretty girl," He murmured against the warmth of my skin and I swore my legs parted wider without forethought.
He lowered himself onto his knees so he was directly in front of my throbbing heat, my legs slung over his shoulders, forcing me open to make room for his head.
His hands come to the top of my thighs, curling around my hips as he drags me to the edge of the counter. I stare down at him as he begins to nip at the skin of my inner thigh then soothing it over with the flat of his tongue, I stare down at him as he trails kisses towards my center with tender, loving pecks, and I stare down at him as his tongue finally comes to contact with my aching folds.
“Az,” I sigh, my head falling back as he begins ravaging me, gripping my hips tighter, holding me closer. He didn’t relent until I was dripping onto his tongue. His tongue traces taunting circles around my clenching entrance, my breathing becoming heavy as my body craves that gratification.
“Look at me,” He commands, his breath fanning over my heat, sending a shiver up my spine. I tilt my head down, and as soon as I make contact with his lust-blown eyes, he makes contact with my slit. I release a soft moan as he plunges his tongue into me, not daring to look away as he consumes my pleasure.
He does fucking magic with his mouth, tongue curling inside of me, toying with that sensitive spot that makes me feel otherworldly. My hand goes into his hair, gripping the dark locks, unsure if I want to pull him away or push him deeper.
I went with the latter, and he groaned against my cunt in reply, the vibration of the sound sends shockwaves through my body, and I arch at the intense sensation, wondering how he managed to make me feel so gods damned aroused when he was only using his mouth. His nose pressed into my clit and it was enough to push me to the edge of that line I didn’t want to cross, didn’t want this to end. “Azriel,” I mewl, delighting in the way he ate me out deeper, hungrier when his name left my lips because he and I both knew it was only him who could make me feel this way.
He knew exactly where to put pressure and where to avoid, he had me memorized but he never seemed to get bored of helping me find my pleasure. He loved it, in fact. His tongue curled and twisted, doing wicked things inside of me and I was forced to watch, unable to look away from his hazel gaze, piercing and devoting all at the same time. “You’re, fuck— you’re good at that,” My brows crease and I can feel that sweet release tempting me closer.
“I’m going to come Az,” I warn with a slight tremor to my voice. He doesn’t reply and continues attacking my cunt with his welcome assaults, coaxing that climax from me. “Go ahead baby,” His voice was rough and breathy, I’d been suffocating him between my thighs yet all he wants is to keep lapping at my arousal, pleasing me.
“Az,” My head falls back again, eyes squeezed shut as I lean back on the counter and rut my hips over his face, his nose brushes over my clit yet again and that’s all I need before I tumble over that ledge and warmth blooms in the pit of my stomach.
I struggle for air as I come, Azriel’s still licking at my folds, every swipe of his tongue causing my legs to jolt. He eventually reaches my clit and I all but scream when he nips at the stimulated bud, he quickly soothes it with his tongue and I find relief again.
Eventually, he was done cleaning me up and moved from the apex of my thighs, his lips favoring my own, trailing the expanse of my body to get there, and when he finally let me taste myself on his lips I swore I’d find release again, just from how soft his kisses are.
“Think you can handle more?” He whispers into my mouth and I smirk, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek before nestling close to the shell of his ear and muttering, “I’m yours to use.” I trail my hands down his bare chest, fingernails scratching over his hard abdomen.
He grabs my hips and places me down on the ground, I manage to maintain my balance— albeit wobbly as he turns me around to face myself in the mirror. “You’re going to watch while I fuck you, yeah?” He hums into the top of my jaw, trailing kisses down my neck. I nod pathetically and he smiles in an evil sort of way.
He guides me down onto the counter, bending me over the marble and then gripping my hips. I involuntarily arch upward, aligning my hips with his as my back curves.
He shucks off his pants, his boxers along with it and I stare through the reflection as his hardened length presses against the base of his abdomen. I swallow thickly at the width of it, I knew he would fit, knew because we’ve done this thousands of times before, so much so that I had been molded for his cock and his alone, but still, the anxiety remained simply because there was no viable way he would be able to sheath his entirety inside of me.
He pressed his cock to my folds and I whimpered at the contact, he was heavy as he dragged himself through my fluids, using it as a lubricant before entering himself. “You’re mine to use.” His words are said against my shoulder while he places kisses on it. “Yours, so use me,” I mumble, adjusting onto my elbows in order to get a better view of him over me. His hands trail up my waist, callouses scraping along my soft skin until he finds purchase at my breasts. I gasp as he gropes them roughly in his palms, massaging them beneath his scared fingertips with a harsh fervor.
One of his hands leaves my breast but the other remains. He uses his free hand to align himself with my entrance, slowly pushing his red tip in. I sighed as he slowly shoved himself deeper, pressing against my gummy walls.
“S’too much, Az,” I whine, looking up at him teary-eyed through the mirror. He smirked maliciously, only going deeper. “I’m barely halfway my love,” He confesses and I nearly crumble onto the counter beneath me, afraid he’ll split me in half with his penetrative force.
I moan at every thrust, every drive of his hips. He’d pull out only to press back into me farther than the last time. Tears slip from my eyes, cascading down my cheeks and onto the marble, as the pain becomes more severe, more intense. But I was moaning for more because this pain was disguised as pleasure.
“Please, harder,” I beg through my tears and he obeys my pitiful command, he pulls out to his tip, watching as I clench around the head of him, silently pleading for more. “Going to take it like a good girl?” He asks, looking at my tear-filled eyes through the reflection and I nod, rushing to answer him. “Words, baby,” He orders, hands gripping my lower torso, his thumbs digging into my back dimples like grooves for a handle. “Mhm, I’ll be good,” I voice, my back arching higher to prove my point. “That’s it, so perfect for me,” He mutters, then slams all of himself into me. His base presses to mine as he hits home, I nearly scream, clawing at the countertop as he repeats the same movement with an unmatchable speed. Every time he pushes harder, cock easily finds that sweet spot nestled deep inside of me, practically toying with the bundle of nerves at each drive of his hips.
The lewd sounds of hips clapping and his balls smacking against my folds echo off the bathroom walls, the symphony of moans and grunts coming from the both of us making me clench my eyes shut and want to only listen, only feel.
He leans over me, forcing himself deeper into the new position, making a lewd mewl tumble from my lips. “Eyes on me,” He demanded, breath hot against my ear. I force myself to look at him, to meet his gaze then trail down his chest that was glistening with sweat, his abdomen contracting with even thrust, and where we connected, my ass recoiling each time he pounded his length into me.
The counter’s edge was digging into my thighs, most likely bruising but I couldn’t find it in myself to care, he was fucking me so good it consumed any form of displeasure and replaced it with pure satisfaction.
“You like it when I use you?” He grinned against the side of my jaw and my back bowed, pressing against his slick chest. “Yes, fuck yes,” I whimper and he smirks. “You close? Gonna come already?” The pity in his voice only surges me closer to my release. I nod with a whine emitting from my lips. “Yeah? Bet you want to come so bad don’t you baby?” His voice sent waves of pleasure through me, starting from my center and spreading. “Mhm,” I utter with large, pleading eyes. “Beg,” He demanded. “Beg to come.”
My body nearly caved at the command, I loved Azriel when he was like this, so powerful over me, so very controlling. “Please Azriel, I need to,” I claim but his thrusts don’t let up. “I can’t, s’too much,” I cry.
He smiles, his hand curving around my waist and rubbing against my overstimulated clit. I moan his name and suddenly my orgasm crashes into me and I’m slumping down onto the counter, squeezing around him tightly and in turn making him find his own release, his seed gushing out into my womb. I sigh in pure relief, legs jolting as I slowly come down from my high, his cock softened but he continues to softly roll his hips over mine, making sure his release is nestled deep inside of me.
“You did so, so good love,” He says with a breathless tone, gently pulling from my cunt and I nearly collapsed but he catches me, guiding me back to the bathtub. “I’ll get you cleaned up alright?” He hummed and I nodded incoherently, ready for sleep to take me as he guided me into warm water.
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Rhys: This is horrible! This is the most humiliating thing that's ever happened to me!
Cassian: More humiliating than-
Rhys: No, we're not doing this.
#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acowar#a court of wings and ruin#acofas#a court of frost and starlight#acomaf#a court of mist and fury#acosf#a court of silver flames#acotar memes#sjm#sjmaas#sjmassbooks#sarahjmaas#acotar funny#incorrect acotar quotes#incorrectacotarquotes#rhys#rhysand#rhys acotar#acotar rhys#rhysand acotar#acotar rhysand#cassian#cassian acotar#acotar cassian
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Dangerous Woman
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *
Pairing(s): Eris x reader
Warnings: SMUT, 18+, mdni
Summary: You've known the High Lord's oldest son for years, but he has never seemed to take much of an interest in you. Did he think you were perhaps too... simple? Boring? Safe? It all comes to a head when you finally reveal how dangerous you can really be.
SR’s Note: THIS IS FILTHY HAHAHA IM SORRY. I have boarded the Eris train and haven't even THOUGHT about getting off yet -- I really hope you guys like this eeeeeek
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *
“Did you bring an extra pair of tights?”
“Always - top zipper. I think they’re a medium,”
“Ugh. You’re literally a lifesaver.”
*sigh* “Aren’t I?”
Your friend Amalia playfully winks at you, taking the extra pair of pantyhose from your overnight bag. You glance at her legs, eyes catching on the long rip down the side of her caramel colored tights she currently dons. Returning your gaze to the mirror you’re seated before, you continue to work on the black winged liner you were previously applying, tuning out the hustle and bustle around you. After a few moments of pinning down flyaways, powdering your nose once more, and practicing kissy faces in the mirror to yourself, you finally decide you’re ready.
You take a swig from the water canteen on your vanity, rolling your neck and swinging your ponytail in the process. Amalia catches your eye through the mirror from behind you, stalking closer with another girl wearing nothing but a tiny shimmering bralette and skirt set.
“You look hot, Y/N!” She squeals, flipping your ponytail and you beam at her, turning in your chair to meet her eyes. You might be “hot”, but Amalia… Amalia was beautiful. Her body curved in all the right places, and she knew how to move to draw the eye to each and every one. Not to mention her full lips, only matching the captivity of her almond shaped, chocolatey brown eyes that seemed to complement her rich skin tone in the best way. If you didn’t have such a life long… thing?… for the High Lord’s kid, you might even be attracted to her yourself.
“Ohhh, don’t flatter me too much Mal,” you say sweetly. She rolls her eyes, and stretches a hand to you. You take it, standing to your full height and smoothing the short black skirt down your upper thigh. The leather matched the knee high black leather boots you chose for tonight - and, of course, the miniature, rather revealing bikini top you sported as well. Amalia’s whoops and whistles, twirling you around and you make a show of sticking out your butt and pursing your lips, which leaves you both in a fit of laughter at your show.
“C’monnn,” she says, taking your freshly manicured hand in hers once more and guiding you toward the door. “I heard there are quite a few High Fae in attendance tonight.” She tosses a wink over her shoulder to you, and you stop dead in your tracks. Her blonde friend who’d been following close behind nearly bumps into your shoulder.
“Woah woah woah,” you say, black nails a blur as your hands wave in front of you. “High fae? Like… from this court?” You ask. Amalia allows a devilish grin to spread over her face.
“You heard me. Like… royal family, High Fae.” She responds, crossing her lithe arms over her chest. Your face immediately begins to heat.
“Ooh why? Is there someone you’re hoping to see?” Amalia’s bubbly blonde friend asks. The sequins on her bralette flutter as she practically bounces in excitement. You chew on an acrylic nervously.
“Only the High Lord’s oldest son,” Amalia starts, and you roll your eyes, feigning indifference. The blonde’s eyes widen in interest as she looks between the two of you, practically begging for more details. “Y/N has been in looove with him since she was a mere child-“
“Oh Amalia, you and your silly stories.” You huff, but the blonde claps her hands together, a wide smile taking over her face.
“Oh my gosh!! Really!” She is bouncing up and down now, and you can’t help the small smile that graces your lips as Amalia chuckles in amusement.
“Oh yeah, really. But, outside of this place, Y/N doesn’t actually speak to the guy,” Amalia clips, frowning at you. You return the sentiment. “I just don’t understand— you are such a good performer in here, why not show him any of that outside of Markov’s?” She asks.
“Uh, because I want him to like me for me? Not because I, ya know, sometimes hang out in a brothel?” You say, hands gesturing with each word. The blonde shakes her head.
“Wait a second. You actually know him? Like, in real life?” She asks. You nod, her crystalline blue eyes widening with the realization.
“She’s his family’s personal record keeper,” Amalia cuts in. “And, she literally grew up with the dude. Same school, same social circles, yada yada yada…” she says, waving a hand. The blonde takes your hand in hers affectionately, staring at you wide eyed.
“But, what will you do when he recognizes you if he comes here?” She asks. You open your mouth to answer, but stop as Amalia pulls something from her own bag beside the dressing room door.
“He usually isn’t seen in here,” she says, handing a black shiny … something? to you. “But, if he does, he won’t know. Because she has this to conceal her identity.” You arch a brow, unfolding the item placed in your hands.
“I mean, it even goes with your outfit. How could you refuse?”
ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
“Any luck?”
“Nope,” you say, tugging on the bottom of your black bunny mask with a defeated sigh. On a night like this, usually you’d have already found someone in search of your services, but… you couldn’t help but turn down just about every one with the High Fae rumor going around. You so desperately wanted to see Eris — or did you? Would it really be a good thing if he was hanging out in a brothel? You weren’t sure.
The fact of the matter was, Amalia was right — you’d been pining over this man for fucking centuries, and he never really seemed to spare you a second glance. You tried everything; being kind, being friendly, being honest. You’d opened up to him over time even, but no matter what he was just always that much more distant from you — like whatever step you’d take toward him, he’d take one backward. It hadn’t been until the last time you’d talked to him that you decided to try something different, to see if this new approach would get any rise out of him.
Was lying wrong? Yeah. Was it a punishable offense? Depends. Was saying you had a boyfriend to get a reaction out of him grounds for jail time? Absolutely not.
And ya know what? It didn’t even seem like he cared that much anyways.
“Listen babe, I’ve been keeping you company all night, but,” Amalia glances over her shoulder at a muscley brunette man eyeing her from a couch across the room. “…I’ve got a line of my own forming. Think you can manage on your own?”
Before you can respond, your new bubbly acquaintance from earlier beelines toward you two, out of breath when she finally makes it to you.
“I…. I think I found… your…” your head tilts as you try and make out what she’s saying between breaths, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Who?” Amalia asks in a hushed whisper. The blonde only turns, and both of your eyes follow her line of sight to the unmistakable head of auburn locks, standing and socializing in the room across the hall. Your breath catches in your throat; there’s no way he’s here.
“Ohhh… oh babes you know what you need to be doin’.” Amalia chuckles, and you glance at her, cheeks reddening.
“Now is not the time to be shy girl! And besides, you have on a damn mask, Cauldron’s sake; he won’t even know it’s you. Now go! Play up the “sexy” before someone else tries to snatch him away.” She shooes you on, and your feet spring into action. The heels of your boots tap tap tap across the wood floor, many gazes turning to you as you saunter toward the bar he’s standing in front of.
Play up the sexy, you remind yourself. He doesn’t even know you’re… you under here.
You approach the bar, leaning against it as the bartender walks up to you. The coolness of the steel eases the burning of your skin a little, and offers some stability in your nervous state.
“The usual,” you say with a wink, faking confidence. It works as Grevin, the usual bartender smiles, and begins on your Malibu with pineapple juice, *extra strong*, just how you like it. You feel your skirt riding up a bit as you lean further over the lip of the bar, exposing the backs of your upper thighs and you can feel his stare finally on you.
Perfect. Right where you want him. It’s not long before you hear his signature scoff next to you, as he leans on an elbow mere inches from where you stand.
“My my,” he begins, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. “What do we have here?” You slowly turn your gaze to meet his, and watch as his amber eyes drink you in fully, roaming from the very tips of your rabbit eared mask down to the toes of your leather boots. You gulp. Play up the sexy.
“You like what you see?” You ask teasingly, crossing one ankle over the other and folding your arms under your chest. Eris smirks, only inching closer to you and dragging his tongue over his lower lip as his eyes continue to feast on your exposed skin. Gods he’s so impossibly gorgeous-
“I do,” he says casually. He extends a soft hand, and you place yours in his. You feel like lightning ripples through you from his touch, and you want to relish in this most simplistic moment. “Eris.” He says.
Shit. Uhh… you didn’t think this far. He’s gazing at you like he’s expecting some kind of answer, and you try to quickly come up with a good fake name, but thankfully don’t have to — Grevin approaches and sets your drink down in front of you. You accept it, throwing it back and downing the whole thing.
“Impressive,” Eris drawls. When you finish, he pulls you closer, so close you can smell his familiar cinnamon and cedar scent. “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in Markov’s?” In seconds, he’s given a glass of his own amber liquid. He swallows half of it, eyes returning to yours for an answer.
“I uh, I work here.” Another lie. You only came as Amalia’s guest sometimes to make extra cash, and in hopes maybe you’d see him here, finally getting some kind of fucked up chance to be with him.
He raises his brows, nodding slowly, and drains his glass. He catches Grevin’s eye, nodding when the bartender asks if you’d both like another round. Slowly, his fingertips have moved to dance along the edge of your leather skirt, his skin only skimming the tops of your thighs and you suck in a breath. He grins devilishly down at you, eyes tracing over the curve of your breasts spilling from your top. He suddenly leans in close, his breath warm against your neck, sending chills across your skin as he whispers darkly in your ear.
“Be careful, don’t you know how easily leather can…” his free hand twirls in a swift motion, a small flame eliciting in the process.
“…burn?” He chuckles. He pulls back to peer down at you again, and you roll your shoulders back, drawing your pointer finger to drag downward from his top lip to his chin. You barely notice the — not one round, but two extra rounds — of drinks Grevin has set before each of you as you take in Eris’ feral gaze.
The fire in his eyes only seems to ignite as you lean in, your cherry scent familiarly intoxicating as you reply lowly; “maybe I enjoy being a little dangerous.”
ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
“I never really come to these types of places,” Eris says breathlessly, his hand grasping yours as you lead him drunkenly toward a room you know would be open for the evening. He let you lead the way after a few more rounds and some small talk at the bar, not complaining about the view from behind as he followed you up the stairs and down the dark hallway.
“Don’t worryyy,” you slur. He chuckles behind you, and you arrive at door #17. This one is reserved for you, rarely used, but yours nonetheless. You fumble to unlock and open it, Eris’ warm hands tracing up and down your sides as you fiddle with the door. Once inside, you opt to keep the lights off, allowing the moonlight from the open window to illuminate the room enough to your liking.
You close the door behind you, and no sooner than it clicks shut, his hands are pushing you against the back of it. The leather of your outfit squeaks in protest against the wood of the door and Eris’ body now holding you against it, his dark chuckle sounding in your ear. It was enough to release a bit more of the wetness already drenching the small cloth offered by your thong.
“Somehow, even after the… three? Four? Drinks we had,” his hands snake beneath the back of your skirt, shoving it up over the curve of your butt and palming your ass. You let out a soft groan — you’d only ever dreamed of this before, even if you could only half see his face in the moonlight. “…I never caught your name, gorgeous.”
Your cheeks redden, and you take the opportunity of his lips being so close to yours to crash them together instead of answering. His fingers squeeze your ass and you yelp, your soft cry muffled by his warm lips on yours. You yank open his shirt, the buttons easily coming undone and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him even closer. One of his hands moves to cup your face, thumb running across your jawline lovingly before he pulls away to meet your stare once more.
“Fine then, don’t tell me little rabbit,” he says, eyes wandering from your lips up to the leather rabbit mask you bore. “You’ll just have to be my little bunny to play with tonight.”
With that, his mouth was attacking yours again, lips in a tango with yours and tongue swiping along the edge of your mouth. You open, allowing him access and deepening the kiss as you both battle for dominance. You’re just content to explore so deep into a cavern so delicious — one you’d never thought you’d taste, not in any of the centuries you’d lived. His hands are all over you, first moving to knead your breasts harshly, relishing in the soft moans he draws from you in the process. Once he’s had enough teasing, he pulls you flush against him by your waist, his hard length pushing into the softness of your stomach. The feel of his long member only increases the ache between your thighs.
“Don’t make me wait anymore,” he says, pulling away breathlessly, eyes darkly boring into yours. In a moment of courageousness, you shove him backward, a feline grin on your face as he falls back onto to his elbows on the bed behind him. He smirks as you crawl on top of him, working to undo his corduroy confines, slipping them past the protruding tent near his navel and discarding them haphazardly to the floor. He helps by kicking off his undergarments and you can’t help but stare at his toned abdomen, his impressive length springing free with the absence of the confines.
Positioning yourself on your knees between his legs, you seductively lick a stripe up his shaft, and his chest begins to rise and fall unevenly. Your gaze meets his and you lick over the leaking tip of his cock, gripping half of his shaft in your fist and giving a few slow, tantalizing strokes. Your tongue continues to work around the exposed area, swirling around and teasing his length where a rather fat vein protrudes. He chews on his lower lip between his teeth, and you finally descend on his length, taking every inch you can down your throat while maintaining eye contact.
“Uh… ohhh my…” he utters, as you begin bobbing your head on his shaft slowly. Your hand pumps what can’t fit in your mouth, and one of his hands instinctively reach for the back of your head, softly pushing down with the rhythm of your motions around his cock.
“Fuck… oh fuck baby…” he softly pants, head rolling back as his hand pushes down on your head faster, harder. Tears begin pricking your eyes as his large member hits the back of your throat, and you try your best to hollow your cheeks and suck in as much as you can.
He continues to whimper and groan before you, and through your blurred vision, you can’t help but feel a twinge of pride. Sure, he may find you boring and uninteresting and anything else when you’re sitting in your office in his father’s palace. But now? He’s literally whimpering before you.
He’s pushed to an almost impossible depth and you choke a bit, his hips beginning to thrust up slightly to fuck himself into your sloppy mouth. Muffled groans emit from you as he thrusts in a few times, until you feel his dick slightly twitch in your mouth.
“Ohh fuck-“ he pulls his dick out of you in an instant, his hand moving to caress your jaw and tilt your head up to look at him. His wet length slaps against his stomach as trail of saliva drips down your chin, collecting near the valley of your breasts, and his eyes track it all the way. His thumb traces over your swollen bottom lip as he inhales sharply.
“Fuck sweetheart, I don’t want to cum just yet,” he says, removing his hand to slowly stroke himself once more. You take the moment to slide your skirt and thong down your thighs, discarding them to the ground. Eris watches intently as you continue to strip, left in only your tight little bra and him in his unbuttoned button-down. Kicking off your boots, you begin to seductively crawl atop Eris once more, and his fingers graze over your hips and round your ass once more before finding purchase on your hipbones. He grips tight and flips you, eliciting a soft squeak from you in the process. Now fully atop you, you can’t help the delight in letting him do as he wishes and be in control over you.
“Let me do this how I want?” he asks, eyes gazing at you in question. You lean up off the bed, biting his lower lip softly before releasing it and staring innocently back into his eyes.
“Use me however you want.”
Your words snap a chord of restraint in Eris, as he tosses your legs over his shoulders then, running his cock up and down your folds to collect your dripping wetness.
“Gods, so wet for me already…” he drawls, aligning his length with your needy entrance. Then, without warning, he grips your waist hard and slams into you, eliciting a sharp cry from you in response. He grunts at the tight squeeze, relishing in the way you clench around him.
“FUCK!” You shout, and he pulls almost all the way out before slamming back in once more, a low growl reverberating in his throat.
“GODS, Eris-“ you gasp. He swipes his tongue over his lower lip, quickening his thrusts — only pulling out halfway but still slamming into you all the same. Your small moans of pleasure seem to egg him on, pants and grunts occasionally emitting from him all the same. His eyes stay trained on you; your boobs bouncing beneath the confines of your bra, your mouth agape as you scream in pleasure for him, down to the slick spreading across his dick as it slides so easily in and out of you. You’re a vision; one he’d only dream of. One so similar to the dreams he has over and over, night after night.
“Fuck… oh, fuck this pussy feels so fucking good baby,” he grunts out, and you continue to allow your moans of pleasure free fall from your lips. Your nails rake over his muscles back, surely leaving scratch marks as he drives into you. One of his hands detaches from your hip, threading his fingers through yours and holding it to the mattress above your head. You tangle your other hand in his incredibly soft locks, illuminated by the rising moon outside. The heat in your stomach continues to build, the coil winding tighter with each snap of his hips into yours.
“Eris I’m… I’m so close-“ you gasp, and he slows only for a moment, pressing a deep kiss to your lips before continuing his thrusts, now slamming into you at an impossibly rapid pace.
“FUCK, ERIS, I’m-“
“Gods YES baby, please Y/N — let me feel you cum baby,” he groans, and with that, the red hot coil in your stomach snaps. You release with a loud moan, pussy clenching around his cock as he fucks you through your orgasm.
Within seconds his warmth is filling you from the inside, his soft whimpers filling the room as you both ride out your highs.
After a few quiet moments, he stalls his movements and pulls out of you, and you instantly feel… empty. He takes the spot on the bed beside you, laying on his side and tucking an arm under his head. He brushes his fingers along the curve of your face as he studies you, and after a few moments in silence, he clears his throat.
“I’m sorry I, uh, I called you that.” he says, and you slide your eyes to his in confusion. He looks magnificent, even in the dim lighting, and you can’t help but feel a little sad that your night with him is drawing to a close.
“Whatever do you mean?” you ask. He sighs, chewing on the inside of his bottom lip.
“Uh… during.. I accidentally called you something I shouldn’t have.” He says. You continue to just look at him confusedly, and he continues.
“I said Y/N, and I uh, I didn’t mean to.” He explains, retracting his hand from you.
You blanch; when did he call you that? How did you overlook it? How didn’t you catch the sound of him saying your name?
You’re silent for a moment, contemplating the whole situation when he speaks again.
“It’s just,” he lets out a frustrated huff, running a hand through his hair. “Y/N is actually this girl, um, she’s someone I know. Well, I know her really well, actually. Known her quite a long time.” He says, and you can’t help the butterflies in your chest. He thinks he’s talking to a stranger, but you’re only hearing the love of your life talk about you.
“Mhm…” you urge. He turns to look at you, and you try to innocently mask the desperation in your eyes as they meet his whiskey colored ones. He props his head up on one of his hands.
“Well, I just got carried away I guess. I’m sorry, I was just… I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately. I mean, I’m always thinking of her but… lately… I don’t know. It’s nothing you did! I mean you were great and all, I just… I can’t get her out of my head, I suppose.” You can’t help the guilt you feel as he looks away, sadness clouding his eyes as hope fills your heart. You never would’ve guessed he felt a fraction of this, based on how he usually interacts with you.
“So… why come here if you care so much for this girl?” You ask. He huffs a laugh, rolling on his back to stare at the ceiling.
“Honestly, I didn’t think she returned my feelings. And, now I know she doesn’t because she told me she belongs to someone else,” he says, and you mentally kick yourself. What the fuck were you thinking telling him that? “You just look a lot like her, and I don’t know, I just got so caught up-“
“Have you told this girl how you feel?” You cut in, pretending to be helpful. He shakes his head, staring at a spot on the ceiling above.
“No… she told me said she has a boyfriend, so. I don’t really think it would matter much anyways.” Your shake your head, and your hand reaches out to lightly take his hand in yours. His turns his head, gaze meeting yours again, and you give him a reassuring smile as warmth only blooms brighter in your chest.
“Eris, I think anyone is crazy not to fall head over heels in love with you,” you say, and he grins. “In my opinion… you need to tell this girl how you feel as soon as you see her next. I’m sure she’d break up with that silly boyfriend of hers if she knew how you felt.”
“You really think that’d do it, huh?” He asks, hopefulness in his tone. You give him a wide, honest smile.
“I really, really do.”
ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
#Spotify#a court of silver flames#a court of thorns and roses#lucien acotar#acotar smut#acofas#acosf#a court of frost and starlight#lucien x reader#lucien vanserra#acotar#eris vandaddy#eris vanserra#eris x reader#eris acotar#eris x you#acotar fandom#azriel acotar#acomaf#acotar series#tamlin acotar#rhys acotar#acowar#a court of mist and fury#a court of wings and ruin#cassian smut
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☁︎ Elain enjoys some tea (I'm convinced she's watching Lucien, Vassa, and Jurian in a spirited argument about something very dumb)
☁︎ please do not repost or use for AI
#acotar fan art#acotar fanart#fan art#fanart#elain archeron#elain archeron fanart#elain archeron fan art#elain kingslayer#elain archeron aesthetic#elain archeron art#archeron sisters#a court of thorns and roses#acomaf#acowar#acofas#acosf#artists on tumblr#digital aritst
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Do people remember that the Inner circle are Rhys's friends and most trusted people. His family?! Right?Because I keep seeing some of you adding random people in it. Which it doesn't even make sense because, they are not his family and most trusted people!
Did some of you read acomaf and acowar or you skip these ones too?!
Elain and Nesta are an exception because they are Feyre's family, his equal and mate. Then he can consider them his family too. *nesta not really, but whatever* you got my point here.
#rhysand#feyre archeron#azriel shadowsinger#azriel#cassian acotar#mor acotar#amren acotar#pro elain#inner circle#night court#pro rhys#pro feyre#pro azriel#feysand#elriel#pro feysand#pro elriel#elain archeron#acotar#acomaf#acowar#acosf
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bros thinking,,,
#thinking about how he got pocket sized and is no longer scary#yk i think hes kinda chill with it now#bros still kinda perplexed but hes learning to live with it ig#azriel shadowsinger#pocket sized azriel#azriel spymaster#azriel acotar#azriel fanart#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acomaf#acosf#acowar#acotar fanart#acotar fandom#acotar fluff
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Feyre Archeron!
#feyre archeron#acotar#acowar#nesta archeron#acomaf#elain archeron#bookworm#a court of silver flames#feyre acotar#aelin x manon#feyre fanart#rhysand#gwyn and azriel#elain x azriel#rowan whitethorn
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Eye of the Storm - Chapter 11: Through the Mating Bond
Summary: Nyra is one of the older Archeron sisters. Twin to Nesta. Plagued by a mysterious illness that her mortal body cannot endure for too long. And yet, it seems her curse is to see her family suffer. When the youngest of her sisters is whisked away into the land of fae, immortality soon follows for the rest of them. And as an immortal, there is more to her that she has yet to know.
Chapter Summary: While Morrigan manages to distract Nyra from her distress, Azriel's desires and insecurities clash. And dinner has yet to be served.
Warnings: Brief mentions of sexual activity and Azriel's traumatic past.
Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm
****
Azriel's POV
Azriel sighed in relief when the Archeron twins walked in for dinner. Both of them were wearing dark blue gowns. The gold in her hair gleamed under the warm light. And with all the strength of the warrior he had honed himself to become, he restrained his gaze from moving all over her body no matter how exquisite she was. He decided her eyes were a good place to settle his gaze but he took in all of her face.
The faelights draped over her like a transparent curtain. Her eyes—those lovely blues had been draped by a golden hue. The edges of her irises darkened and like the quiet sea at sunset, they waited for the moon to eventually rise and command the tides. The mole on the right side of her face right where her cheekbone was. Lips glossed lightly and he looked again into those eyes, wishing they would look at him.
Azriel felt her confusion through the bond. He tightened the grip on his glass, knowing how much he wanted to go over there and embrace her. To see the seas in her eyes and tell her that it was going to be fine. But the shadows were already reprimanding him. She is confused. Pained.
This was wrong. He’d only wanted to meet his mate because Maia had died too young. Azriel remembered the girl who’d been born as Rhysand’s sister. After the Lady of the Night Court had given birth to her daughter, it was Azriel who had first held her. The High Lord of Night had been disappointed at the birth of a female–a feeling that evolved to awkwardness and indifference as the girl grew up.
With Morrigan to groom her into a lady befitting of her lineage, Cassian to become more of an older brother than Rhys since the latter had unknowingly become a father to his sister in the absence of the High Lord, and Azriel as her guardian from the shadows, Maia grew. And yet, her life had ended brutally, just two months shy of seventeen.
Nyra was that girl. But she was not. Maia was a child. Nyra was an adult. And he knew that despite sharing the same soul, Maia and Nyra were completely different people. One was a girl he’d watched over as a good friend. The other was a… Cauldron fuck him, how should he even think about this female? She was glowing and healthy and beautiful and so fucking endearing as she looked at him when he’d mentioned chocolate cake.
Wasn’t it wrong to be attracted to her?
He’d waited for her only to give her the life she deserved to live as Maia. There were no romantic intentions even though he’d been thoroughly uninterested in pursuing females for the past five hundred years for love. For so long, he’d thought about Maia and how he’d take her reincarnated person to see the world and eat different cuisines, and meet different people and learn so many new things.
He had accepted that Maia would be reborn with a different face, would belong to a different race, could even be a male and whatever affections he’d had for her as a good friend would continue. He imagined a faceless figure whenever he thought about Maia’s new form and now that there was a face to fill that blank space, his thoughts had begun spiralling.
Azriel wanted to give her freedom and resources to utilise that freedom and he’d collected so much. So much money and books. He’d made a list of all the places to visit and planned out so much so that Maia wouldn’t miss anything. And he’d imagined that her happiness would make him content and he’d watch from the sidelines. But now, he wanted to be a participant. He wanted to make her happy and provide for her. And this female, so lost and confused—he wanted to be reliable for her.
And none of his shadows were in favour of his original plan to simply be friends with whoever Maia would reincarnate as and watch them be happy. They wanted him to be involved, wanted him to court Nyra, tell her how indescribably beautiful she was and to tell her about the mating bond. They wanted him to be hers. And gods help him because his thoughts and desires were starting to take that route.
Azriel knew that despite his hesitations, he would succumb. He would want to be hers truly because this was Nyra. And from all that he knew about Nyra Archeron, there would never be anyone who wouldn’t want to be hers unless they were fools. To be her sister, her friend, her brother, her daughter, her son, her mother, her father—to have any sort of connection to her was a blessing. And he knew that it was only a matter of days before he would, without hesitation, want to be her mate in the truest sense of the word. To be her partner, her husband, her companion, her lover. To be able to touch her and kiss her and hold her. To make love to her.
And fuck him but she looked so extraordinarily adorable despite her distress. Through the bond, he felt her annoyance at the doubts that seemed to pop up constantly but were never clarified. Her eyes scanned everything and everyone. And the shadows swarmed over to her, stopping a few feet away, waiting for her permission. She watched them and Azriel felt her as she recognised them. The storm within her calmed a little as the shadows wrapped themselves around her extended hand and the rest of them settled down on her skirts.
Azriel heard her breathing and her heart rate return to normal. She continued to look at the shadows as they snaked around her fingers and palm and wrist. Her features softened and then she looked up and found him. His breath hitched as she tilted her head to the side and Azriel felt a small smile make its way on his face. Through the string, he felt her surprise and watched her nod to him. He raised his glass to take a sip.
It surprised him, how much he could feel through the bond. Nyra felt so much with such depth to the point where he'd suspected that she would dissect her feelings into parts and peer into them just to ensure that there was no confusion. However that clarity seemed to be absent as she looked at Feyre with a lack of recognition and consequently, a growing sense of guilt. It was a seed and it was starting to germinate.
The shadowsinger stood straight as he watched the Morrigan waltz over to the twins, knowing how meddlesome the female could be. "Where did those come from?" Mor's voice brought out her surprise and awe as she began closely inspecting the gowns and their fabric. "I want one too."
The shadowsinger felt his mate’s confusion and guilt be destroyed before it could sprout. Nyra's examining eyes were now trained on Mor as the blonde female took the fabric of her skirt and examined it. Mor thoroughly inspected the dress and the design and was even more impressed. Midnight blue silk with gently flowing skirts and a bodice that subtly brought their figures to notice. While Nesta opted for one with a collar neckline, Nyra's gown had a square neckline which revealed all the skin he suddenly wanted to claim with his mouth.
The mere idea of touching her brought with it the onslaught of memories. And all of a sudden, Azriel was a boy, weeping as his hands were burned, howling for his mother. It had rained that day in response. He remembered the voice he had heard from that day onwards. What it said. How he felt after hearing it. The voice had disappeared after he'd been thrown into Windhaven and the only proof of it was etched on his back, cleverly concealed by his shadows. But the way his hands hurt for weeks came back to him. The memory of pain began to take over and Azriel immediately set his glass aside and moved his hands behind him. He clenched it again and again.
Those days are gone. And now, she's here. Mate. Mistress. Ours. The shadows whispered more and more about how the bad days were gone and how Nyra was the beginning of something good. But now, he was transported back to when he had killed someone for the first time. Some irrelevant person who'd called his mother a whore for birthing a bastard like him. He'd travelled through the shadows for the first time and killed the foulmouthed asshole within the next five seconds. Azriel was twelve. The faces of all other people and many faceless people from the distant past he'd killed and tortured and killed flashed by. And the blood in his hands was a constant.
Scarred hands, bloodied and wielding the Truth Teller and other weapons. This was who he was. And Azriel dared to glance at Nyra's hands. Slender and so much smaller than his own.
Untainted.
Unlike his own.
He had no right to be her mate. Azriel did not know the exact moment he had placed her on a pedestal. She sat above everything and he was beneath it all, not even worthy to be a stone that would lie in her path. To think of touching her was blasphemous, the act itself a sacrilege. It should never happen. It could never happen, no matter how violently he’d started to desire it.
But even when he’d begun to label the act of touching Nyra as something forbidden, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
"It's a good thing we're not the same size or else I might be tempted to steal your dresses." Mor smiled coyly. Pretending had to take a pause. He looked in their direction to see Mor's smirk aimed at him. And Azriel looked away as all the decency of thoughts that he had somehow managed to bring about evaporated without a second's notice. Feyre. Looking here. No. He had to stop thinking about touching her. Someone as undeserving as him could never have any right to even request such a thing.
"Likely right off them." Cassian's remark was an unhelpful one. Mor's smirk widened, bordering on mischief and desire. And no matter how much Azriel tried to distract himself from looking at Nyra, even thinking of her, the bond did not let him. And neither did the shadows. He felt her confusion take a back seat as Mor's contagious smile began affecting her. She was remembering the time when she had teased Azriel and Cassian about fucking in the forests outside the Archeron estate. An adventurous tumble, she called it. And then there was Cassian, going along with it and extending an invitation to join them.
Azriel felt like his salivary glands were working too well at that moment. The thought of Nyra between him and Cassian, all of them nude, brought about another moment of desire before he felt someone pinch his neck.
"Control yourself. You're not an adolescent." Cassian whispered to him. "You can get through dinner, right?"
Azriel had to truly contemplate that. The female had been here for not more than twenty minutes and he had already felt so much. Admiration for her beauty, concern for her distress, amusement at how endearing she was, a trip down the lane of traumatic memories, arousal. And all of it was his own feelings. He could also feel her through the bond and that was an entirely different category.
"I hope so." Azriel stole another glance at the sisters. Nesta looked rather unimpressed by what Mor said and Nyra was looking at Feyre who was smiling at her older sister. And he felt her helplessness at not being able to smile back.
Nyra's confusion was a wound that seemed to be getting infected. Azriel realised that she seemed to no longer recognise the person Feyre had turned into and that was hurting her. The guilt of not being able to identify this woman as the girl she raised in the neglect of their mother.
The way Nyra seemed to feel like Feyre was no longer her sister or even an Archeron was all too palpable for him. Did she feel like the Inner Circle had stolen Feyre from the Archeron family? Azriel did not know and Nyra looked at Mor again, trying to forget what she had just felt. All while the youngest Archeron smiled oblivious to her sister's inner turmoil. What was that bit about her mother? Azriel was curious and he stored that information away for future references.
"Fortunately for you, I don't return the sentiment." Nesta did not bother looking at Morrigan for the fear of her power and claimed a seat. Azriel coughed. His own surprise slammed into him as Mor took Nyra's hands in her own, the shadows on his mate's hand retreating just enough to avoid any contact with Mor's skin.
Azriel focused on their mating bond, taking deep breaths to calm himself. Once he had decreed himself to have calmed down significantly, he tried to remember what it was when he met Nyra for the first time. The state of his mind when he met the woman who had rushed to greet her youngest sister after so long. The conversations. A female like no other. Truly incomparable. And the peace he felt, he pushed towards the bond. He saw her shoulders relax and how she had begun calming down.
Nyra looked at Mor who smiled brightly at her. "Do you? Return the sentiment, I mean."
"May I take off your dress?" Nyra looked at her, eyebrows raised. Azriel stopped himself from taking a sip of his whiskey lest he spit it out or choke on it.
To take off that dress. Removing the straps resting on her shoulder. Unzipping it from the back to reveal more skin. Warm and golden under the faelights. To move behind her. Kiss her ear, her neck. Removing those silver combs that let her curls remain in a bun and to watch them drop down. Gather her hair in his hand to push them to her front. To let his mouth descend and taste her back. Pulling that dress down as he got on his knees behind her.
Talons knocked at the doors of Azriel's mental fortress, pulling him out of his fantasy. Control your scent, brother. Rhysand's voice came as a warning. He had to control his scent, desires and his aroused state. This was not the time or place for his mind to go wild and start fantasising about... Moving on.
"Why would you want to do that?" Nyra asked, genuinely brightening up due to the mischief Mor had started cooking. Azriel felt like he had sinned with his filthy fantasies about this adorable darling of a female who was his mate. Why was she so... everything? He picked up his glass of whiskey and drank a good amount of it.
"Your dress is beautiful." Mor trailed a finger from Nyra's temple and pushed a strand behind her ear. Nyra controlled her shivers but the shadows told him how sensitive she felt her ears were. He really wanted to test that. With a lick to her earlobe before he took it between his teeth for a soft nibble. No, he could never touch her. "And so are you."
At this point, Azriel remembered how the conversation between the brothers and the Bone Carver was supposed to be a secret. The three Illyrians had bargained over that and three stars were subsequently tattooed on their bodies as evidence. No one would know until the three of them decided unanimously to tell them. And that was how Feyre came to know. Amren suspected something but did not pry.
Mor did not know anything at all. Nothing about the possibility that the female standing in front of her was once her cousin. Very distant cousin but that was beside the point. And Azriel, who knew it, felt the bile rise at the back of his throat at the potentially incestuous interaction taking place... No. It was important to remember that this female was Nyra and not Maia. Even though they shared the same soul, the person was different.
"I will ask you if I require assistance in removing this. Will that be fine?" Nyra did not really consider what reaction her reply would evoke but the surprise in Morrigan's face was rather amusing. Mor's brown eyes widened and she swallowed. It was fun, Nyra decided. Azriel could not help his smile but he did hide it behind his glass of whiskey. And just when he thought he could finally have a moment of peace, Nyra spoke. "Your reaction is rather interesting. What is going on inside that pretty head of yours?"
Mor blinked, not expecting such a response. In fact, none of them had. It was the sort of thing they'd either heard or spoken while flirting with females and males. Oh fuck, she was starting to get into this. Azriel watched them, wondering whether he should be jealous of Mor. The red of the Truth Speaker's dress and wine seemed to seep into her cheeks. "What?" That was the only intelligent reply the blonde female managed.
"What?" Nyra repeated and looked at the blonde female with raised eyebrows and a mischievous look. She then released her hands from hers, took a step back, turned towards the seat with a gentle twirl of her skirts, pulled the chair next to her twin's back. She moved to sit down and adjust the chair according to her. Azriel felt the delight coursing through Nyra. Thank gods, all her distress seemed to vanish for the night.
Azriel did not understand how this female who had panicked like she had witnessed the end of the world was now standing and making such light hearted conversation. It was a strength, he recognised. Something he'd seen in every member of his unconventional family from time to time. To be confronted with the worst and then having to pretend as though nothing had happened. And Nyra was having fun teasing Mor.
A faint blush covered the blonde female's cheeks at the implication of Nyra's words. And for the first time, she saw Nyra for the striking beauty she was. Mor's gaze travelled from Nyra's face to her neck and so did Azriel's. Under the golden lights that brought out the colour of the Archeron sisters' hair, Nyra's hair glowed faintly on one side of her neck while the other side remained exposed. Cassian pinched Azriel's ear and that brought him out of his trance. The shadowsinger glared at his brother only for them to look towards the dining table when Nesta cleared her throat rather loudly.
"Well... I..." Mor fumbled, clearly not used to being the one to blush during flirtations.
"That's what I thought." Nyra raised an eyebrow. The teasing look was a new one for all of them. The shadows twirling around her fingers and palms cried out in joy, dancing at Nyra's good mood. Mor grinned broadly and shot him a cheeky wink before claiming her seat opposite Nyra. Cassian let out a snort and Azriel jabbed him with his elbow at the ribs before moving to claim his seat at the dining table.
The shadowsinger sat next to Mor, not opposite to Nyra but not too far away that he couldn't see her properly. From this angle, he could see if she was eating properly and if she got a chance to taste every dish. And if she liked any, he could keep a note and ensure she got more servings. Cassian had left momentarily to raid the wine collection and returned with a few bottles cuddled to his chest. Wine, Azriel would consume as easily as breathing. At this point, he'd need something stronger than whiskey even.
****
TAGLIST:
@waytoomanyteenagefeels @impossibelle @esposadomd @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @judig92 @bunnyredgirl @sh4nn @a-frog-with-a-laptop @kattzillaa @ronnieglennn @wallacewillow0773638 @forgiveliv @justdreamstars @donttellthecats @cat-or-kitten @jojodojo02 @wandas-dream @evylynny @weasleyreidstyles @stqrgirlies-blog @why4anne @acourtofdreamsandshadows @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe @macimads @footyandformula @noelli-smv @mqlfoyelf @thehighlordishere @slytherintaco @spideytingley @deeshag @footyandformula @nebarious @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @prettylittlewrites @lilah-asteria @5onedirection5 @hanitastic @sevikas-whore @krowiathemythologynerd
#a court of thorns and roses#acotar#azriel x oc#azriel x original character#a court of silver flames#acofas#azriel shadowsinger#acowar#acosf#acomaf#azriel spymaster#azriel x reader#nesta archeron#nessian#rhysand#feyre archeron#feysand#elain archeron#azriel#amren
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The way a lot of people in this fandom romanticize and sexualize Feyre getting -- very publicly -- drugged and SA'd by Rhysand under the mountain is disgusting.
#acotar#acowar#acosf#acomaf#anti sjm#anti rhysand#justice for feyre#id tag this pro feyre but i dont wanna get dogpiled by the ppl im referring to
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Cassian’s Fashion Sense
Feyre: Cassian, do you own anything besides Illyrian fighting leathers? I’ve never seen you wear anything else.
Cassian: *scoffs* I am a war general; Of course I only wear leather.
Nesta: That’s not true. He wears silk pajamas at home.
Cassian: I WOULD NEVER.
Nesta: He adores how soft they are.
Cassian: LIES. ALL OF IT LIES.
Azriel: I can also confirm he wears silk clothes frequently.
Feyre:
Cassian:
Nesta: I don’t even want to know how you know that.
#azriel knows everything#azriel spymaster#acomaf#acotar#sarah j maas#acotar fandom#rhysand#feysand#feyre archeron#a court of mist and fury#a court of thorns and roses#feyre#a court of silver flames#a court of wings and ruin#acowar#acosf#acotar series#nesta funny#nessian#nesta x cassian#azriel funny#azriel#illyrian#book boyfriends#my book boyfriend#fantasy books#fae mates#mates#romance books#incorrect acotar quotes
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