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thewulf · 2 days

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Teaching Trails || Azriel

Summary: Request - can i request a teacher reader x azriel where she's Nyx's teacher/tutor and feyre or rhysand asks az to pick him up since they're busy and he swears he falls in love on sight seeing reader be so sweet on Nyxie and how comfortable Nyx is around reader? just something sweet and fluffy and maybe a super nervous az when reader notices him at the doorway?? You can decide the rest. love your work!

A/N: Ahhhh I loved writing this. Idk I just picture Nyx as a sweet bubbly 5/6 year old in this. Adored writing this!

Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (Night Court Reader)

Word Count: 5.0k +

TW: Use of Magic (fluffy!!)

As you stand at the edge of one of the many expansive terraces of the House of Wind, the air around you is crisp, the sky a clear, deep blue above the sprawling city of Velaris below. This majestic residence is perched like an eagle's nest atop a solitary mountain and commands a breathtaking view of the Night Court. Its beauty a sure giveaway to ancient power and elegance. Yet despite its grandeur there’s a poignant isolation to it. Especially for young Nyx, whose days are spent within these walls that soar closer to the stars than to the streets where other children play.

Inside the palace is a labyrinth of ornate halls and vast chambers. Each room a masterpiece of art and architecture designed for gods rather than a playful child. The echo of Nyx’s laughter often bounces off the high ceilings. A reminder of the solitude that accompanies his royal upbringing. He is a small but vibrant figure roaming the endless corridors exploring shadowed corners and hidden nooks. His solitude veiled by the splendor surrounding him.

It's during one such quiet evening as the horizon painted a watercolor of twilight hues that Feyre brings up her growing concern to Rhysand. They are in their private chambers. A place where the masks of High Lord and Lady can be set aside. Where vulnerabilities can be voiced without the weight of a crown.

"Nyx needs more than just us. He needs more than this palace," Feyre starts with her voice steady yet filled with an urgency that draws Rhysand’s full attention. "He’s missing out on normal interactions. The kind that happen away from royal duties and ceremonial greetings. He’s a child. He should be learning through play, through friendships formed in mud and laughter. Not just in state rooms and formal gardens."

Rhysand’s expression is torn. As a father he yearns for Nyx to have every happiness the world can offer. But as a ruler the thought of his son, so precious and so exposed, wandering beyond the enchanted safety of their home is daunting. "It's dangerous, Feyre," he counters. His voice laced with a protective edge. "The world isn’t always kind, especially not to those of royal blood."

"But isn’t it more dangerous to raise him in a bubble? How will he learn to lead? To understand his people, if he only ever sees them from a balcony or at formal events?" Feyre’s hands gesture emphatically. Her eyes alight with passion. "We need to let him explore, Rhys. We need to let him be a child. Not just a prince." Their conversation stretches into the night. Debates entwined with silent contemplations until a resolution begins to dawn much like the first light over the Sidra. Rhysand’s fears don’t dissipate entirely but his love for Nyx and his trust in Feyre’s instincts lead him to a concession.

"Alright," he says finally. A reluctant smile breaking through his concerns. "We’ll find him a teacher. Someone who can guide him, teach him, yes, but also someone who can take him beyond these walls. Let him learn about life. About our people through his own experiences. Not just through stories and reports."

Feyre’s relief is palpable and together they set out to find the perfect candidate. The search is exhaustive with candidates from across Prythian and beyond interviewed. They seek not just an educator but a guardian of sorts. Someone who understands the delicate balance of nurturing a child like Nyx. Someone who can foster his curiosity and protect his spirit.

The search for a tutor for young Nyx was not a decision taken lightly. Within the ornate conference room of the House of Wind, Feyre, Rhysand, and other key members of the Inner Circle—save for Azriel, who was away on duty—gathered to commence the rigorous interview process. The room was filled with an air of solemnity as each candidate presented themselves. Their credentials scrutinized not just for academic excellence but for a deeper understanding and alignment with the values of the Night Court.

Mor, with her keen sense of people, led the questioning. Her bright eyes missing nothing. Cassian injected moments of levity lightening the mood with his humor. While Amren's piercing gaze seemed to delve into the very souls of the candidates searching for sincerity and resilience. Each member of the Inner Circle brought their own perspective ensuring that the chosen teacher would not only educate Nyx academically but would also nurture his emotional and cultural development.

Then you entered the room. With a demeanor both warm and composed you introduced yourself. As you spoke about your educational philosophy making sure to emphasize experiential learning and emotional intelligence the panel was visibly impressed. Your background in educational psychology coupled with your years of experience teaching in diverse environments highlighted your capability to adapt and thrive in any teaching scenario. More importantly your genuine passion for fostering young minds resonated deeply with Feyre who nodded appreciatively at your thoughtful answers.

Throughout the interview, your approach to education which focused on developing both the intellect and the heart of a student was clearly aligned with the Night Court's ideals. You spoke of the importance of understanding each student's unique needs and adapting lessons to fit those needs. Even suggesting outdoor classes and cultural excursions that would allow Nyx to learn about his heritage in a tangible, engaging way.

As the interviews concluded and the candidates departed the room buzzed with discussions. It was clear to everyone that you stood out not just for your qualifications but for the gentle strength you exhibited. A trait they all deemed perfect for handling the sensitive nature of their prince's education.

When the decision was made Feyre personally reached out to offer you the position. The joy and excitement in your voice as you accepted was palpable. Aware of the immense responsibility of teaching the heir of the Night Court you were nonetheless thrilled by the opportunity to make a significant impact in a young child's life.

As you prepared to step into this new role your heart was buoyant with anticipation. Not just for the challenges ahead but for the chance to contribute to shaping a future leader of the Night Court. The trust placed in you by such revered figures was not just an honor but a truth to your life's work and passion igniting a fervent desire to start this new chapter.

In the heart of Velaris away from the towering isolation of the House of Wind you spend a delightful morning with Nyx at one of the city's lush public gardens. The day is warm. The gentle buzz of the city a distant backdrop to the laughter and learning that fills the air around the two of you.

You laid out a picnic blanket under the shade of a towering silverleaf tree. The spread covered with books, sketchpads, and an assortment of colorful pencils. Today's lesson is about the flora and fauna of Prythian. A topic that has Nyx bubbling with excitement and curiosity. As he sketches a butterfly that landed briefly on the edge of your blanket you explain the role of pollinators in the ecosystem, delighted by his insightful questions and the meticulous care he takes with his drawing.

"Nyx, do you see how the colors of its wings can tell us about its environment?" you ask as you were pointing to the delicate patterns that mirror the blooms around you.

"Yes!" he exclaims. His eyes lighting up with understanding. "It’s like camouflage, right? They blend in to stay safe from predators!"

"Exactly," you reply. Your heart swelling with pride at his quick grasp of the concepts.

The lesson shifts seamlessly from science to history as you guide Nyx through the stories of the Night Court. Each tale woven into the landmarks visible from your spot in the garden. Nyx listens, rapt, as you tell him about the ancient fae who once walked these paths. The battles they fought and the peace that now thrives in their stead.

As the morning progresses Nyx's natural curiosity leads him to a question that makes you pause. His small voice tinged with genuine wonder. "Why don't you have wings like my mom, dad, Uncle Cassian and Uncle Az? Like that pretty butterfly?" he asks. His head tilting as he regards you thoughtfully.

You smile softly, touched by his innocent inquiry. "Well, not all fae have wings, Nyx. Just like not all flowers have thorns," you explain using an analogy you know he'll understand. "Each of us is unique with different abilities and gifts. It’s what makes us all special in our own way."

Nyx nods considering this. "I think it’s cool you don’t need wings to fly. You have books and stories that can take you anywhere," he decides with a wise look crossing his features that makes you chuckle.

"That’s a wonderful way to put it, Nyx. And remember, we all have our own ways of soaring," you say ruffling his hair affectionately.

As you begin to pack up the day's learning materials you lean closer to Nyx with a conspiratorial whisper. "Tomorrow, we’re going to do something special. We'll join a class with other children your age. You’ll get to play and learn together with them," you tell him watching his face light up with sheer delight.

"Really? I'll have friends to play with?" His voice is filled with excitement. His earlier thoughts about wings forgotten in the anticipation of meeting new friends.

"Absolutely," you assure him sharing in his excitement. "It’ll be a lot of fun and you’ll make lots of new friends."

Nyx's eyes sparkle with anticipation as he begins to imagine the possibilities. "I'm going to tell mom and dad all about it tonight!" he exclaims already planning out his evening conversation. "And I’ll tell Uncle Az too. He likes hearing about my adventures."

The mention of Azriel, whom you've only heard about through Nyx’s enthusiastic stories, adds an interesting layer to your perception of the mysterious figure. "That sounds like a great idea," you respond, amused, and intrigued by Nyx’s affectionate mention of his uncle. "It seems Uncle Az is quite the hero in your stories."

"Yeah! He’s really cool! He can disappear like a shadow and is always on secret missions," Nyx says. His admiration for Azriel evident in his wide eyes and animated gestures.

The day ends with Nyx bouncing along the path back to you classroom chatting animatedly about all the things he hopes to do with the other children. His excitement about sharing his upcoming school day with his family, especially with his beloved Uncle Az, whom you've yet to meet but feel like you already know through Nyx's tales, fills the air with joy.

Your heart warms at his enthusiasm knowing that these new experiences are exactly what he needs. As Nyx sketches another flower with his small hand moving confidently you know these moments of joy and anticipation are as precious to him as they are to you, nurturing not just a young prince’s mind but also his spirit. The connections he's building with his family, with you, and soon with his peers are shaping him into a thoughtful, well-rounded individual, ready to explore the world with confidence and curiosity.

As the sun begins to dip below the horizon casting a warm, golden light through the windows of your classroom the day's adventures wind down to a quieter, more reflective pace. You sit in a cozy corner of the room on a soft, plush cushioned area you've set up specifically for reading. Nyx nestles beside you as his energy from earlier now softened into the gentle tiredness of a day well spent. In your hands a beautifully illustrated book about the legends of Prythian opens to a page where the heroic deeds of ancient warriors are painted in vivid colors.

As you read aloud, your voice smooth and soothing, Nyx's eyelids begin to flutter gently. You notice his weary smile as he listens. The adventures of the day transforming into the adventures in the pages. Gently, almost instinctively, you begin to caress his hair. Smoothing it back from his forehead in a tender, rhythmic motion. It's a peaceful scene, the kind of simple, heartfelt moment that often goes unnoticed in the bustling life of the Night Court.

Unknown to you his Uncle Azriel stands at the doorway having arrived to pick up Nyx. He pauses there, a silent observer, taken aback by the tranquility and warmth of the tableau before him. His task had been simple. He was to retrieve Nyx and bring him home but the scene he encounters tugs at something deep within him. A longing for such unguarded peace.

Azriel watches as Nyx's breathing deepens, the sweet child drifting closer to sleep with each gentle brush of your hand. Your care for Nyx, so natural and affectionate, strikes a chord in Azriel. He's seen many facets of life. So many forms of relationships and bonds but the simplicity and purity of this moment resonate with him profoundly.

He remains there at the threshold hesitant to interrupt the moment. He was captivated by the gentleness of your interactions with Nyx. The world he usually inhabits—one of shadows and secrets—feels miles away from the soft warmth of this sunlit room. In this pause Azriel realizes that his task isn't just about escorting Nyx. It's about respecting and appreciating the sacred, everyday magic that people like you bring into Nyx's life.

Eventually though the story comes to an unfortunate end, and you close the book before looking down at Nyx to see him fully asleep. A contented expression on his young face. As you carefully consider how to wake him Azriel finally clears his throat softly announcing his presence.

You look up, startled slightly, your eyes meeting his for the first time. There's a moment of mutual acknowledgment. A silent appreciation for the scene he's just witnessed. An understanding that while your worlds may be different the care you show to Nyx bridges them beautifully. Azriel steps into the room. His movements gentle as he did not want to disturb the serene atmosphere you've created.

"Thank you for taking such good care of him," Azriel says quietly. His voice carrying a warmth that surprises even him. "He obviously treasures these moments with you."

"You're welcome. It's truly a pleasure teaching him," you reply with a warm smile. Your eyes reflecting genuine affection for Nyx.

As you gently wake Nyx his eyes flutter open gradually clearing as they adjust to the presence of another in the room. When he spots Azriel standing quietly by the door a bright, sleepy smile spreads across his face. He quickly scrambles to his feet, excitement replacing any remnants of sleepiness.

"Uncle Az!" Nyx exclaims. His voice filled with delight as he runs into Azriel's open arms. Azriel catches him effortlessly before lifting him into a warm hug. They share a moment, uncle and nephew reunited, their easy laughter filling the room. You grin recognizing him as the infamous Azriel in Nyx’s life.

Then as if struck by a sudden realization Nyx turns back towards you with a look of proud excitement lighting up his features. With a firm grip on Azriel's hand he pulls him closer to you and announces, "This is Miss Y/N, my favorite teacher ever!" His voice carries through the room filled with genuine admiration and joy.

Azriel's gaze shifts to you. A slight tension beneath his calm demeanor as he processes Nyx's enthusiastic introduction. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he says, his voice steady but softer than usual, a subtle undercurrent of nervousness mingling with his words.

You smile warmly, extending your hand in greeting. "I've heard a lot about you, Azriel. Nyx tells me you're quite the hero," you say. Your tone light and inviting.

Azriel takes your hand and for a moment his usual composure falters under your gaze. He's momentarily taken aback not just by the warmth of your smile but by the unexpected impact of your presence. She's beautiful, he thinks, and kind... The realization that he's slightly awestruck surprises him. He finds himself momentarily lost for words.

"And I've heard you've been learning about heroes in your lessons with Nyx," he manages to say his voice carrying a hint of warmth that rarely surfaces. Nyx obviously pleased with the exchange claps his hands excitedly.

"Can we all walk back home together?" Nyx asks looking up at both of you with hopeful, bright eyes, “Please!” He adds in for good measure as if you weren’t going to immediately say yes to him.

"Of course, Nyx," Azriel responds after looking to you for confirmation.

You nod, gathering your belongings, and the three of you step out into the cool evening of Velaris. As you walk Nyx fills the air with chatter about his day seamlessly weaving together his two worlds with tales of butterflies and ancient warriors. Azriel listens with a soft smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His initial nervousness easing as he's drawn into the simple joy of the moment. His thoughts linger on you, intrigued, and unexpectedly moved by the genuine connection forming between you, Nyx, and himself. A beautiful end to an enriching day.

As the three of you begin your walk back through the twilight streets of Velaris the usual calm that Azriel embodies seems to waver slightly. He is typically a figure of stoic composure, his presence both commanding and elusive shadowed by the mysteries of his duties as the Spymaster. However, today, as he walks beside you, something is distinctly different.

Azriel's steps are measured. His usual fluid grace tempered by a hint of uncertainty. His glances towards you are quick, almost cautious, as if he's trying to decipher an unfamiliar script. The conversation flows easily around Nyx's enthusiastic chatter about his day but each time you turn your attention directly to Azriel a subtle tension flickers across his features.

"You really have a wonderful way with Nyx," you say hoping to bridge the gap with kindness. "He's always so excited to share what he's learned with you."

Azriel nods. A slight flush visible beneath the dusky hue of his skin. "Thank you," he murmurs as his voice is softer than usual. "It's... it's good to see him so happy. You do a lot for him."

The simplicity of your interactions, the easy smiles and gentle teasing you offer to Nyx, resonate with Azriel in a way that is both heartening and unnerving. He's unaccustomed to feeling this way—unsettled yet drawn in, eager yet shy. His hands though normally steady and sure whether wielding a weapon or a shadow clench slightly at his sides betraying his internal struggle.

As Nyx runs ahead a little, bursting with energy as he recounts another part of his day, Azriel takes a moment to compose himself. He glances at you again. This time holding your gaze a moment longer than before. The vulnerability rarely seen by others is palpable now as it was a quiet admission of his nervousness.

"I'm... not usually this unsure," Azriel confesses quietly almost to himself. "But there's something about these moments…. seeing Nyx so at ease with you. It's more comforting than I anticipated."

Your response is a gentle smile, one that acknowledges his admission without pressing further. It's a smile that seems to say you understand that the quiet spaces between words can be filled with kindness, not just silence.

The rest of the walk continues with a softer ease. A budding respect forming amidst the shared glances and the fading light of day. Azriel's initial nervousness slowly ebbs away instead replaced by a quiet appreciation for the unexpected warmth this evening has brought into his usually guarded world.

As the three of you approach the grandeur of the House of Wind, the towering structure casts long shadows over the cobblestone paths. It’s presence as awe-inspiring as it is imposing. Nyx who was still bubbling with energy despite the day's adventures, rushes ahead. Clearly he was eager to recount his tales to Feyre and Rhysand. You pause at the entrance. The vast doors open as if welcoming back its prince.

"It's been a wonderful day, Nyx," you say, giving him a soft hug. "Don't forget to draw that butterfly we talked about!"

"I won't, Miss Y/N!" Nyx promises. His voice echoing slightly in the vast entryway. He turns and dashes inside as his laughter lingered in the air.

You turn to Azriel with a smile gracing your lips. "Thank you for letting me share part of your evening. I should head back home now."

Azriel’s expression shifts. Concern etching his features. "It’s getting late," he observes while glancing at the skies, now painted with the deep blues and purples of dusk. "Please, allow me to walk you back to your home. The streets can be less than forgiving at this hour."

You pause appreciating his concern but ready to reassure him of your safety. "That’s very kind of you, Azriel, but it’s no worry. I know these streets well," you say as you turned to make your way down the path.

Before you can take more than a few steps a subtle but firm presence stops you. Looking down you see one of Azriel’s shadows has stretched out across the path in front of you almost playfully barring your way. It's a gentle unspoken plea that catches you by surprise echoing Azriel’s silent wish for you not to go alone.

Azriel takes a step forward. His gaze earnest. "I would truly feel better if I could ensure your safe return. Please," he adds. A rare hint of vulnerability in his voice that you hadn't expected.

Seeing the genuine concern in his eyes and touched by his quiet insistence you nod to him with a smile spreading across your face. "Alright, Azriel, if it means that much to you then I’d welcome the company," you agree. The warmth in your tone matching the softness in his eyes.

"Thank you," he replies visibly relieved. He quickly steps inside to ensure Nyx is settled and returns to you with a more relaxed demeanor ready to accompany you.

As you and Azriel begin the walk back to your home the streets of Velaris are bathed in the gentle glow of the stars and softly lit lanterns casting an enchanting light over the cobblestones. The atmosphere lends a serene backdrop to the conversation that begins to unfold between you.

"You know, Nyx speaks so highly of you," you start by breaking the initial silence with a warm tone. "He's always so excited after spending time with you. You must have some exciting tales from your duties."

Azriel chuckles softly. A sound so serene that it seems to dance in the night air. "Nyx has a way of making everything sound more thrilling than it might actually be. But yes, there are times when my duties hold some... intrigue." He pause, as if weighing what to share. "Mostly, I'm just ensuring that the court and our lands are safe. It's not always as adventurous as Nyx might depict."

"And what about when you're not cloaked in shadows and mystery?" you ask genuinely curious about the man beside you beyond his role as the Spymaster.

A hint of surprise flickers across Azriel's face. Surprised yet pleased by the interest you’re showing in him. "I enjoy solitude, usually. Reading, training... Though I have a fondness for sword making. It’s a craft that requires precision and patience much like my usual work but with a more tangible, creative result."

"Sword making? That’s fascinating," you remark smiling at the thought. "It must be rewarding to create something so intricate and vital."

"It is," he agrees. His voice softening ever so slightly. "And what about you? What do you enjoy doing in your free time?"

You nod before reflecting on your simple pleasures. "I love hiking and just watching nature. There’s something peaceful about observing the natural world. Just seeing how it exists so beautifully without any need for interference."

The conversation flows naturally from there. The earlier apprehension melting into a mutual appreciation for each other’s hobbies and life outside of official duties. As you talk Azriel’s steps seem to synchronize with yours. His presence an incredibly comforting shadow by your side.

When you finally reach your doorstep the city around you has quieted even further. The only sounds being the distant murmur of the Night Court's nightlife and the gentle rustling of leaves. Azriel pauses, standing just a bit closer than before. His usually guarded demeanor dimmed under the starlight.

"Thank you for allowing me to walk you home," he says. His voice sincere and gentle as if reflecting the calmness of the evening.

"It was my pleasure," you respond, finding yourself reluctant to end the conversation. "I enjoyed our talk, Azriel. It’s nice to see the person behind the shadows."

He smiles. A true smile that reaches his eyes making them sparkle with a rare lightness. "I did as well. More than I expected. Perhaps we could do this again, maybe take a hike together?"

"I’d like that," you agree. Your heart light with the promise of future conversations, of shared paths both literal and metaphorical.

"Good night, Miss Y/N. Take care," Azriel says as he steps back ready to meld back into the shadows from which he came.

"Good night, Azriel. And thank you… for everything tonight," you call after him. A smile still playing on your lips as you watch him disappear into the night. The connection between you both stronger and sweeter for the shared walk under Velaris’ starlit sky.

In the days that follow Azriel finds himself inventing reasons to visit your classroom or accompany Nyx to his lessons more often than strictly necessary. Each visit, purportedly to check on Nyx’s educational progress or to discuss scheduling with you becomes a cherished opportunity for him to engage in brief, yet meaningful conversations with you.

Each encounter, ostensibly casual, subtly deepens his affection and admiration for you. He begins to notice the small details: the way your eyes light up when discussing a new teaching method, the gentle patience with which you guide Nyx through difficult lessons, and the enthusiasm that bubbles up when you talk about your nature hikes. Azriel who was typically reserved and composed finds himself drawn into your world of vibrant enthusiasm and heartfelt dedication.

One afternoon as Azriel stands somewhat hidden by the doorway of your classroom just like he did that first day he met you observes a particularly touching scene. Nyx, having mastered a particularly tricky spell, turns to you with a triumphant grin. You laugh, your joy as vivid as the sparkle in Nyx's eyes. He swears your laughter seems to light up the room.

Watching this Azriel feels a warmth spread through him. A warmth that has little to do with the sun filtering in through the windows. It’s in this simple, unguarded moment that he realizes his feelings for you have deepened beyond mere admiration. He's not just falling for your kindness towards Nyx but also for the genuine spirit and infectious joy you bring into every interaction.

As he steps away from the doorway with a thoughtful smile playing on his lips Azriel knows that what he feels is something profound and undeniable. Your spirit which was so vibrant and full of life calls to him in a way that no one else ever has. And as he walks away with his shadows trailing behind him he’s certain of one thing. He wants to explore where this connection might lead not just for Nyx's sake but for his own heart’s as well.

After ensuring that Nyx was safely back at the House of Wind you begin to make your way back towards your home. The day's light is waning casting long shadows that stretch across the cobblestone streets of Velaris, adding a mystical allure to the city’s evening charm.

As you step forward, the sound of your footsteps is a soft echo in the quieting city. You're lost in thought pondering the pleasant interaction with Nyx and looking forward to the solitude of your evening walk home. However, before you can get far you hear Azriel’s voice calling out from behind you.

“Wait, please!” His tone carries a blend of urgency and hesitation that halt’s you in your tracks.

You turn around surprised to see him approaching quickly. His usually composed demeanor replaced by a slight breathlessness. The shadows that always linger around him seem to pulse in sync with the heightened beat of his heart.

Azriel catches up to you. His expression earnest. “I just wanted to ask properly,” he starts, his voice steadying as he meets your gaze. “Would you join me for a hike this evening? There’s a trail not far from here that’s especially beautiful in the evening light. I think you’d really enjoy the views, and...” He pauses before taking a breath reassuring himself, “I would really enjoy the company.”

Your smile deepens, touched by his sincerity and the vulnerable way he presents his request. The softening of his features and the hopeful look in his eyes paint a picture of a man stepping beyond the shadows that define him.

“I would love to, Azriel,” you reply warmly. Your voice filled with genuine excitement. “It sounds like a perfect way to end the day.”

Relief washes over Azriel’s face. His usual stoic mask giving way to a rare, genuine smile. “Thank you,” he says as if a weight was lifting from his shoulders. “Shall we meet at the edge of the city in half an hour?”

“That sounds wonderful,” you agree already anticipating the quiet beauty of the trail and the shared moments ahead.

As you both part ways to prepare for the evening hike the anticipation of the upcoming adventure brings a new spring to your step. Azriel turns back once more watching you walk away, his heart lighter. He realizes just how much he’s looking forward to exploring not only the natural wonders of Velaris but also the potential of a new and blossoming relationship with you. The thought brings that rare and hopeful smile to his lips. One that he carries with him as he disappears into the shadows to ready himself for the evening.

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ninthcircleofprythian · 3 days

Text

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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acotarxreader · 2 days

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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!

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“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

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daydreaming-nerd · 2 days

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The Prophecy (Lucien Vanserra x Rhys! Sister)/(Azriel x Rhys! Sister) Part 3

AN: I'm not really sure if I like how this turned out, so if you're new here I promise my writing it typically so much better. ALSO there are so many new faces on here! I wanted to say hello and thank you for the love once again! If you liked this fic and you love drama, forbidden love, protective acotar boys, a bit of a slow burn, and political intrigue you would LOVE and I mean LOVE my fic Young Love and Old Money. I’m still writing it but it’s almost completed! Go check it out you won’t be disappointed!

and of course check out my masterlist

Summary: The only thing worse than having Azriel not know about the bond is watching him and Elain carry on like she doesn’t have a mate as well. Lucien and you have been long time friends but things change after one fateful starfall celebration. It’s not wrong if both of your mates don’t want you right?

Warnings: smut, so much lucien fluff, happy ending for lucien (for once) :)

Word count: 5057

We arrived in the house in silence, the only thing to fill the void was the crackling of the enchanted fire that always sprang to life whenever I walked through the door. My eyes were fixed on the floorboards, studying every grain of wood as I put together what had just happened.

I had told Azriel about the bond, and I did it in anger. I had imagined telling him a million different ways over the past 400 years but never did imagine doing it out of spite. I was just so angry with Elain and her insufferable entitlement that had me seeing red. If anyone should act in such a manner, it should be me, I was a princess after all.

I was furious with Elain there was no doubt about that, but the voice that kept echoing in my mind was Azriel’s. How he yelled at me. I had known him my whole life and I had never once been afraid of him, until today.

As if he was tired of the silence, Lucien brushed his hand under my chin bringing my gaze to his, it wasn’t until then that I realized I was crying. I didn’t even give him a chance to ask if I was alright before I started blubbering.

“Lu I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to. She just got under my skin and I-”

“Shhh” he cooed, pulling me into his chest. “It’s okay, I understand. I didn’t react much better when Azriel started talking.” he chuckled, no doubt remembering how he preemptively called me his wife, the words had rolled off his tongue so effortlessly it was admirable.

“He’s never raised his voice to me like that. Not ever,” I hiccup into his chest, his scent like apples, spiced berries and woodsmoke.

“I should’ve burned him to a crisp for doing so he has no right to treat you that way,” he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“It’s alright, now that he knows he’ll be entitled to act possessive of me,” I sigh, starting to feel my pulse slow in his arms.

“And I’m not granted that same right? To protect you?” Lucien said, tilting my chin up to meet his gaze.

“Well, you aren’t my mate,” I laugh looking into his eyes.

“And what if that doesn’t matter to me? That we aren’t mates? What if I think that the Cauldron made a terrible, horrible mistake by not binding me to you in every way imaginable?” he confesses.

I search his face for a hint of that playful gleam I saw earlier. The trickster, the silver tongued fox who might be playing me for a fool. But I didn’t find it, for all those fiery eyes bore was sincerity.

“What do you mean Lu?” I ask earnestly.

“Exactly what I said, you aren’t my mate, but…” he stops as if to consider his words. “But I still feel like you are in a way, I feel protective of you. In a way I always have, remember when you scraped your knee climbing that cherry blossom tree in the spring court all those years ago?”

I smile remembering the event, I had wanted some cherry blossoms to braid into my hair. “Yes I do, I still have the scar.” I laughed.

“I know you do, I see it every time I make love to you,” he smiled back. “I remember carrying you to the healers at the spring court from half a mile out. Even then I couldn’t stand the thought of you bearing any sort of scar. What I’m trying to say is that you may not be my mate, but I love you like you’re mine. Because you are, you are mine.”

My breath gets caught in my throat and my eyes go wide at those three little words. The ones I thought I might’ve felt too these past few months.

I love you.

For a year now things between Lucien and I had been strictly situational, just a means to an end. Then I started noticing the little things, his toothbrush next to mine, his laundry in my hamper, him having his own side of the bed. Things changed, but it wasn’t a bad change, which was a new idea for me, as I had always resented change. But not this, this was good.

I thought I had felt that emotion with Lucien before. The night that I came home and he had made us both dinner. The time he bought me the second book in a series just because he noticed I was almost done with the first. The week I was sick he nursed my back to health. I thought I felt love each and every one of those times, but I wasn’t sure. I always teetered on saying it but never caved. But as I stood here in his arms, watching his eyes light up as he said those words to me, I knew I felt the same.

“I-I love you too Lucien,” I said quietly so only he could hear, even though we were the only two people in the house.

He wastes no time bringing his mouth to mine, for so long our kisses had been fervent, needy. Both of us desiring pleasure and the codling that came after it. This kiss was different than all the rest, in it I felt real love. The kind I had only read about in my numerous romance novels. I dreamed of being kissed this way my entire life.

I felt strong hands grip my waist hoisting me up. My legs instantly wrapped around his waist as he started bounding up the stairs, his enthusiasm making me giggle.

“Believe me my love, there is nothing funny about the way I’m going to ravish you tonight,” he smirked before kicking open the bedroom door.

The next day I woke up slowly, not wanting to move from where Lucien had placed me on his chest last night. Both of us took our time to have a steady morning knowing that later in the day there would be chaos. Lucien got up first, always the more responsible of the two of us. When I murmured a sleepy protest he simply chuckled and placed me back in bed, where I snuggled into the warm sheets that smell faintly of him.

When I woke for the second time I smelled that delectable scent of pancakes wafting through the small townhouse. The aroma pulled me from the sheets in a sleepy haze as if my body was controlled by some other worldly force. Slipping on my blue nightgown and padding downstairs into the kitchen I found Lucien half clothed and cooking breakfast for the two of us.

“Blueberry pancakes, not chocolate chip,” he assured me, sprinkling fresh blueberries onto a pancake.

“You remembered,” I sighed leaning against the counter watching him intently. When Lucien had first made breakfast for me I was taken aback by his cooking skills, there was no way that this man was the complete package.

“How could I forget?” he laughed, flipping a pancake. “Last time I made chocolate you were on your cycle and you were so befuddled that you yanked the spatula out of my hand and spanked me with it.”

I slid between him and the stove, “Don’t act like you didn’t like it,” I say my voice low and sultry as my hand slowly reaches for the spatula he’s hidden behind his back.

“You little minx,” he teases when he feels my fingers searching for the torture weapon. The mischievous gleam flashes in his eyes and before I can run he swipes a blob of whipped cream from a nearby bowl onto my cheek.

“Lu!” I scoff going to wipe the cream off my cheek but he grasps my wrist to stop me.

“Fair is fair my dear,” he smirks before licking the sweetness off my cheek. I immediately feel my toes curl at the fiery sensation.

“You are insatiable,” I laughed, moving away from him to properly wipe my face.

I feel a quick slap to my arse with the spatula and I turn to see my fiancé standing with a self satisfied smirk. “Says you little miss ‘more Lucien more!’” he teases recalling how I begged him to touch me last night.

“I knew you would tease me about that!” I shouted, pushing his study form as hard as I could, he didn’t even teeter. “I’ll never beg for you again!”

He smiles, grabbing my left hand and pulling it to his mouth, placing a kiss on the ring adorning it. “There will never be a need,” he smirked. “Now go and set the table, babysitting Nyx duties can’t be put off for forever.”

I had told Rhys and Feyre that I would happily watch Nyx this afternoon. Of course that was before they knew about Lucien, who might’ve gotten away with a pleasant afternoon in my townhouse with a new book but now? He was shackled to me to watch the young one.

While the little High Lord in training was typically quite docile, he had just learned to crawl and had begun flapping his little wings, which meant trouble was becoming the new normal. Which is exactly what had happened today…

“Nyx no!” I shouted as he reached for a heavy book on one of the bookshelves, his tiny wings helping him to gain the extra inch or two of ground he needed.

I grabbed him from underneath his shoulders and brought him into my arms, bouncing him on my hip as his eyes caught the shiny necklace I was wearing. His little hands grabbed at it and I figured it was better than a vase or another heavy book.

“Just imagine till he can actually fly,” Lucien chuckled, coming up behind me.

“That won’t be for quite a while thankfully,” I laugh, bouncing the babe up and down.

“Are you so sure about that? Cassian seems to already be giving him lessons.” he points out.

“I don’t even want to think about a flying toddler,” I scoff and Lucien chuckles behind me.

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head and I could feel his lips curling into a smile.“Is it bad that I’m enjoying watching this?” he admitted.

“Watching what?” I laugh as Nyx puts the necklace in his mouth.

“You, with a baby in your arms,” he said.

“I’ve always wanted children,” I said and a beat of silence passed until I decided to be bold. “Lu, do you think we could ever have children?” I ask, afraid to turn around and possibly see a wary look on his face.

I felt Lucien’s chuckle reverberate behind me, “As many as you would like my darling.” he laughed.

I whipped around with Nyx to search his eyes for a hint of uncertainty, but he seemed happy about the idea, “Really?” I asked in disbelief.

“Of course,” he assured me.

“I want a million just like little Nyx here,” I smile looking at the babe in my arms.

“Minus the wings of course,” Lucien laughs behind me and I pause.

My entire life I had always pictured my children with wings. Small, delicate little things that I would ‘ooo’ and ‘ahhh’ over. I remembered seeing the Illyrian children in Windhaven growing up, I was always so happy when mothers would let me hold their babies, their wings so adorably small. I looked forward to having winged children of my own, but now things had changed.

“What is it my dear?” Lucien asked, breaking me out of my trance.

“Oh it’s nothing, it’s just that when I pictured my children I always figured they would have wings,” I say, pressing a kiss to Nyx’s temple.

As if summoned, Azriel walked in, Rhys and Feyre in tow, signaling that their meeting was over. His eyes flitted to me, no doubt having heard what I had said. Lucien’s hand tightened on my hip.

“How was he? Was he good?” Feyre smiled crossing the room to take her son in her arms once more.

“He was, but those wings are going to give me grief one day,” I smile watching Nyx snuggle into his mothers arms.

“Don’t worry I’m terrified too,” Rhys laughed, approaching his mate and child.

A comfortable silence ensued as I watched the little family reunite, smiles and warmth surrounding them. Lucien’s hand came to my shoulder, as if promising that we too would have that same picture perfect family one day.

“Can we talk?” Azriel asked timidly, taking a step away from the doorway he leaned against. Feyre and Rhys take out of the room, no doubt feeling the change in the atmosphere.

I searched his eyes for a hint of aggression but all I found was remorse, “Yes we may,” I say quietly.

“If you lay one hand on her spymaster I will burn you to ash,” Lucien growled, his hand on my shoulder tightening possessively.

“You have my word that I will not touch her in anger,” Azriel said earnestly, not a hint of teasing or mockery. Instead, a new found respect for Lucien showed in his eyes.

I go to follow Azriel into the other room when I feel Lucien grab my hand pulling me into his broad chest.

“Wait,” he said before slamming his lips to mine. The gesture was so passionate I couldn’t help but let out the slightest of moans as I felt him cradle the back of my head. This wasn’t just a kiss goodbye, it was a display of power to Azriel, letting him know how serious the two of us were. I couldn’t help but feel my lips turn up at Lucien’s sudden daring.

I felt him back away to survey my face, as if looking for any hesitancy to enter into a conversation with Azriel. When he was certain I was comfortable he placed a kiss on my brow, “I’ll be right here if you need me.” he said as I dropped his hand and followed Azriel into Rhys’ study.

The doors to the office closed with a resolute click as Azriel turned to face me, his eyes somber.

“First and foremost I wanted to say I’m sorry for the way I behaved the other night. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that or said the things I did” he said leaning against the desk a food meter away from me, as if Lucien had scared him from coming any closer.

“It’s alright I forgive you. I shouldn’t have blurted out such an important thing anyways. We were both at fault.” I say earnestly.

Azriel pulls his gaze from his boots to me, “I heard what you said in there, about your children having wings. Did you ever picture that those children would be?” he starts leaving me room to finish the sentence for him.

“Yours? Yes.” I say timidly.

Azriel sighs as if weighing what all this means, “How long have you known?” he prompts.

I think to lie, but it wouldn’t bear well on my soul. It was best to get it all out in the open.

“400 years.” I confess and he curses under his breath. “I knew it the night you danced with me at the solstice ball in the Hewn City.”

“Fuck y/n,” he curses again, turning to brace his hands on the desk behind him and I take a tentative step towards him.

“I’m sorry I never told you, that wasn’t fair to you.” I sigh, but he doesn’t reply so I continue on. “It’s just that every time I thought about it you were pining for Mor and then Elain. I never felt I stood a chance. But you would talk to me about them, and even though it broke my heart to hear how you loved them so, it was better than losing you. I told myself that if I couldn’t have your love I would cherish your friendship, and maybe that was selfish of me but I did it.”

Azriel finally turned from the desk to meet my gaze and I tried to offer him the most sympathetic glance I could.

“I understand why you never told me, but I still wish I had known. Thing’s might’ve been different.” he said, running a hand through his hair.

I pause to consider his words, “Would they be?” I ask.

He looked at me in confusion, like I was dispelling the idea that the sky was blue. I understood his disarray. For thousands of years things had always been the same, mates were mates and that was that. But maybe what Lucien said last night did have merit.

“Are you not happy with Elain?” I prompt him with a light heart, as I finally started to feel some solace in my own words.

“y/n I don’t want to-”

“You do not burden me Az.” I interrupt him, knowing what he was going to say. “Tell me truthfully.”

A blush tints his cheeks as he averts his gaze to his boots once more, “I am happy. I am very happy.” he smiles as if he can’t help it.

“I think it was meant to be this way,” I say honestly watching the shadowsinger reeling in front of me.

“What about you? Are you?”

“Happy?” I ask, glancing to the door where I know Lucien waits for me on the other side. “I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.” I smile answering him.

“How long have you and him been… you know?” he asks, seemling losing all tension in his body as he sees me at ease.

“Since starfall,” I answered, remembering the first time Lu kissed me.

“A year?!” Az balked, raising his voice in disbelief.

I laugh watching his face drop, “it’s interesting the things you don’t notice when you’re in love,” I wink at him, knowing he was too caught up with Elain to pay any mind to Lu and I.

Azriel shakes his head as if processing this new information before he turns to me again, “And do you love him?” he asks.

I smile remembering last night, “I do, I love him very much.” I answer.

“And does he love you?” Az presses further, as if he needs to tie up all loose ends before he can be at ease with the entire situation.

“I think he made that pretty clear a couple minutes ago,” I laughed, referring to the kiss he gave me.

“Yeah I suppose I got that message loud and clear,” Azriel chuckled as a pause of silence fell over us. “I think… I think in another lifetime we would’ve made each other really happy.”

“Maybe even this lifetime.” I say sadly thinking of what could’ve been. “But I love Lucien, he chose me when I thought no one else would, and maybe I’m making a mistake by marrying him. But somehow it feels like the first right thing I’ve done in the past 400 years.”

“He’s a very lucky man,” Azriel remarked with a certain sadness. “I hope that you will be happy with him,” he finished seemingly giving me his blessing.

“I think it was meant to be this way, don't you?” I ask, finally feeling my heart and my conscious lighten.

“I do,” he smiles before holding his hand out to me. “Friends?” he asks.

I nod clasping my hand in his, “Friends.”

“Let’s get you back to your fiancé before I find myself in a pile of ash on the floor,” Azriel chuckles, putting his hand on the door.

I laugh with him and when the door to the living room opens I find Lucien and Elain hugging.

My heart is caught in my throat as I realize that perhaps Lucien might’ve changed his mind. I wouldn’t have blamed him if he did. She was his true mate after all and, she was astonishingly beautiful. Maybe I was misled when Azriel and I settled our differences.

Both their heads whipped our way, and Lucien’s smile shined brightly. I was unsure of who that smile was for until he ran over to me, grabbing me by the hips and spinning me around.

“It is done,” Lucien cheered and out of the corner of my eye I saw Azriel throw an arm around Elain’s shoulders.

“What is?” I laughed once my feet were back on the ground.

“I don’t want to wait any longer. I want to call you my wife by sundown.” Lucien said affectionately.

“And why shouldn’t you wait? She’s a princess after all, you should snatch her up while you can,” Elain called out affectionately from Azriel’s side. I couldn’t help but look at the two of them standing there.

A hand snaked its way under my chin taking my attention to him before he planted his lips on mine. “Be mine, forever.” he proposed.

I couldn’t stop the smile that graced my face, “Okay,” I said quietly.

A cheer from Elain erupted behind me and suddenly it felt like all the pieces were falling into place, like everything I had ever wanted for myself had now come true.

The ceremony was short, just like Lucien and I had wanted. However, instead of an elopement it was a small gathering, Cass and Ness, Amren, Mor, Az and Elain and of course Rhys and Feyre were present. I wore my mothers dress and at some point Lu had slipped out to buy me a proper ring, not that I minded the old one.

The rest of the night was filled with drinking and frivolity. The whole family laughing and telling stories, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I belonged with all of them, as I sat on my husband's lap. It wasn’t until many glasses of wine later that I found Lucien carrying me bridal style over the threshold of our home.

“This really isn’t necessary,” I laughed, holding a spare bottle of wine in my hand as he stepped through the doorway, the fireplace roaring to life.

“It’s traditional for a husband to carry his wife over the threshold of their home after the wedding.” he retorted, stepping inside the house and closing the door with his foot.

“For humans not for fae,” I corrected him as he finally set me down on slightly unsteady legs.

“Maybe I just wanted an excuse to carry you,” he laughed, taking the wine from my hand and setting it on a side table by the door.

“You never need an excuse for that,” I laughed, throwing my arms around his neck.

“Well in that case,” he smirks before picking me up again and bounding up our stairs.

My feet don’t hit the floor until we’re in our room, his lips finding mine in an instant. With a wave of my hand I remove my dress, magically placing it back to wherever my dear brother found it. Lucien tossed his shirt over his head so that my hands might wander the plains of his toned chest. His hands find my hips pushing me away ever so slightly so that he can see me.

His eyes graze the expanse of my bare body and I’m suddenly frustrated by the fact that I’m the only one laid bare in the room.

“My wife,” he says, kissing my lips, pulling me closer. “My, beautiful, beautiful wife.” he kisses me again, smiling like he can’t help it.

I try to speak but he deepens the kiss once more, robbing me of words as he uses his body to overpower me with sheer force. His hands find my arse, giving it a squeeze before lifting my feet off the ground and tossing me onto our bed.

In a turn of events, my eyes wander the expanse of his body. Toned from years and years of training. His eyes sparkle with amusement and suddenly I feel like a sitting duck awaiting his mouth on me once more.

He falls onto the bed, hovering over me as he places yet another kiss on my lips. I use his imbalance to knee his hips towards the bed, my body weight pinning him beneath me as his eyes look up to me with pure lust. Large hands dance up my sides as if to encourage any next move I might make.

“My handsome, cunning, silver tongued husband,” I smirk, placing a kiss on his bare chest. My mouth trails over his chest, to his shoulders, and his collar bones. Needing every part of him on my lips. It isn’t until I get to his neck that he lets loose a groan and flips us back over.

“While I enjoy the sight of you pleasuring yourself on my cock wife, I shall be the one to take you tonight,” he smirks, biting my neck hard, no doubt trying to leave his mark there.

“Oh Lu,” I breathe, feeling my body come alive over his lips and wandering hands.

My eyes shoot open as I feel his breath hovering over my sex, the warmth causing my blood to burn.

“What a lucky male a I am to be able to taste this sweet cunt whenever I please,” he smiled mischievously before licking a stripe up my center.

I let out a breathy moan as he continues to lick and suck every inch of me. His hands parting my thighs warm and hard as he circles my clit with his tongue. My fingers thread through his hair pulling him impossibly close, earning a groan from him that reverberates through me.

“Like fucking honeysuckle,” he moans before trailing more kisses up my body.

I slink down moving towards where his cock peeks out of his untied breeches. Needing to feel the weight of him in my mouth, needing to hear the whimpers of pleasure on his tongue but he stops me.

“No not tonight,” he fusses pushing me back down into the mattress.

“But Lu-”

“No buts” he interrupts. “I want to pleasure my new wife tonight. Let me have that,” he moans silencing any protest I might have with a kiss as he slides home.

The all consuming feeling of being taken by him as me gasping for breath as my back arches off the bed. My tits rising towards his mouth and he easily grasps a hardened nipple between his lips, sucking eagerly.

“Lucien,” I breathe feeling him all around me.

“I love you,” he rasped, thrusting deeper. “My wife I love you.” he grunted watching where he slammed into me with intensity.

My hand came to cup his face bringing his eyes to mine. My fingers trace the scar over his golden eye as I see the emotion flood his russet colored eye. “I love you too, husband,” I whisper to him.

A gleam finds his eyes and he drives into me harder, the sound of skin slapping reverberating throughout the room. It was as if me uttering his new title spurred him on.

We’re a tangled mess of sweat slick limbs and ragged breaths as I feel him deeper and deeper inside of me. My nails scraping his back, trying to find purchase or something to anchor me as pleasure rips through my body. His pants become whimpers as I feel myself tightening around him.

“Always so perfectly tight,” he curses, driving through my tight heat.

His words are enough to have me falling apart under him, my legs shaking from pleasure as I cry his name.

“Lucien oh gods!” I cry, my hands no doubt leaving marks in his skin.

“That’s right my love, cum for me,” he groans before sputtering himself. “Fuck,” he mutters before I feel him burry his seed deep inside me.

His whimpers fill the space between my neck and shoulder as he finishes inside me. Once he’s spent he rolls over taking me with him so I’m cuddled into his side.

“I’m so unbelievably happy,” he whispers into the world, still coming down from his high.

“I’m told that’s often a side effect of an orgasm,” I laugh running a hand up and down his chest, soothing him.

“No,” he says breathlessly, turning so that he is hovering over me once more. “I’m unbelievably happy because of you. You have not only given me your love, but you’ve given me a house, and a family. I never thought I would have those things. You are… you are everything and I promise to be the most amazing husband I can be.” he smiles, pressing a kiss to my brow.

“You already are,” I smile, pulling him into another heated kiss.

It would undoubtedly be like this for many years to come. However long the Cauldron allowed me to live, I knew I would always have a place here, with Lucien. And maybe things didn’t go as I had always planned, but gods was I happy, and more importantly I was loved.

Lucien Vanserra chose me, not because I was his mate, or because the world told him to. No, he chose me because he loved me, even when it wasn’t convenient for him, and I chose him too. I would choose him until the end of my days.

Epilogue: Five Years Later

“Careful my darling,” Lucien fussed, helping to lower me down onto a sofa.

“Lu I’m pregnant not fatally injured,” I laugh waving him away as I rest my hands on my ever growing bump.

“Of course, pregnancy is a walk in the park, I’ll remember that next time you beat me for serving you chocolate pancakes instead of blueberry,” he chides, pulling a blanket over my lap. “I spend a year telling myself you like blueberries and this little one comes along and all of the sudden you want chocolate.”

“Pregnancy cravings are no joke my friend,” Rhysand laughs from the adjacent couch. “I find it best to satisfy your wife’s cravings as soon as possible before she asks for another ridiculous request.”

“Especially when one’s wife is a princess,” Lucien teases, pressing a kiss to my temple.

“You married me!” I protest.

“And I thank the Cauldron every day that I did,” Lucien smiles, pressing a kiss to my lips finally.

(do we need an Az version now?)

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redheadspark · 2 days

Text

Here (Part Three and Final Part)

Summary - Azriel's mate pulls through, but Azriel sets a new target on the one who almost took his mate.

Warnings - Angst with a hint of fluff mixed in

A/N - Part of the Ocean Eyes Series. Here is the last part of this small three-part series, by popular demand. I hope you like it!

Part One

Part Two

Azriel felt himself flying out of the guest room, thankfully moving his son safely to the side of the bed to let him sleep. But you were in his mind, hearing your voice calling out to him so gently and yet strained simultaneously. He was beyond fast, going across the hallway in a mili-second and bursting into your room. He stood still at the doorway, seeing the blue tint of the room thanks to the moonlight and how you were squirming a bit in your position on the bed. Almost as if you were waking up from an unpleasant dream. You squinted, your nose twitching a bit as you took in a sharp inhale.

Azriel…what happened…

"Honey, hey," Azriel said in such a rush and trembled as he made his way over to him, pushing the chair to the side abruptly to be kneeling and in front of your face. He reached up to touch your cheek, his palm against your cheek lovingly as you took in another breath that sounded a bit uncomfortable. Finally, he saw you open your eyes right at him and he finally smiled, tears in his eyes as your gorgeous blue eyes were looking back at his hazel ones. Azriel only said three words, there words that were simple but moved your heart:

"There's my girl,"

All the worry he had, the fears of you dying in front of him and leaving him this world, they no longer existed. You were there, safe and alive, watching him with weary but comforting eyes. Azriel felt like he could breathe again, finally taking in a long breath since it felt like he was holding it in for so long. The last several hours were filled with worry, despair, rage, and devastation at the notion of Azriel watching you slip away from him. He was already thinking over every scenario that could happen to him, but now he simply wished to fall to his knees in both happiness and exhaustion from being on edge for far too long.

"Az?" You finally voice, your voice so raw and yet still gentle. Azriel beamed, tears down his face from hearing your voice finally. How he missed your voice, the warmth it brought like the sun rays on a summer day. Hearing it in the bond was one thing, but to finally hear It with his ears, made the tension that he carried fly away and out the window.

He took out a long breath, attempting to remain composed in front of you as you were searching his eyes, but it was all too much for him. He hid his face for a brief moment into his arm, the last thing he wanted to do was to show his tears to do since you were the one who was hurting and near death. Although you were still in the same pain and drowsy, you were concerned seeing your mate in such a way in front of you,

"Azriel, what.." You were about to ask, not understanding what was going on, but Azriel inhaled sharply and looked back at you. You saw the pain in his eyes, pain that was mixed relief and grief as he scanned your eyes.

"I'm just fucking glad you're okay," He hummed, his voice sounding so broken but also ecstatic at the same time. He leaned forward, kissing your cheeks and forehead over and over while his hands cradled your face and stayed so close to you. You heard it and saw it, how he was so worried and now relived that you were there and breathing.

"Cauldron, don't you dare scare me like that again," he said against your hair as he cradled your face in his palms, you feeling some of his tears hit your cheeks and nose. You carefully reached up to touch his wrists, holding him there like an anchor as you were letting him kiss you all over and touch you.

The last thing you remembered was trying to fly into the sky, masked men chasing after you and attempting to ambush you, and then the searing pain that blossomed throughout your entire body. The scream from your lips was almost animalistic as your vision went cold and you fell from the skin, limp and cold.

But now you were there, warm in a bed and Azriel in front of you with fresh tears.

"Where am I?" You asked, looking around at the room you were in. Azriel moving the hair from your eyes and rubbing your arms soothingly.

"River House," Azriel explained, "Cassian found you out cold and brought you here. You've been asleep for a good 9 hours, baby,"

You attempted to sit up a bit, in hopes to maybe gather your bearings, but you froze and gasped out in pain. The entirety of your back had a spasm from the shocking pain and you whimper. Your wings felt so stiff and painful, especially your left wing, almost like it was on fire as Azriel wrapped you in his arms and helped you go back to your side.

"Your wings are still healing, rest for me," He urged you as you sighed and took in a few long breaths, "Madja got most of the poison out from your wing but there's still some left,"

It made you look at him in shock from the news that there's poison in your wing. No wonder you were feeling insane pain, to the point that moving your wing would be almost like torture so to speak. You recalled that searing white pain when you were flying up in the sky, the pain was large enough to have you lose your breath and then pass out cold, paralyzing you within seconds.

You shot an alarmed look at Azriel, "Where's Alec? Is he safe? Is he—" You were about to ramble several questions all at once about your son, who was now in your mind at the forefront of your worries.

"He's okay, sweetheart. Alec's safe and okay. Look, he's asleep right across the hall, see?" Azriel said to you, you looking out the door that was left abruptly open. Even from your spot on the bed, you could see Alec, tucked away in bed amongst the messy sheet and snoring away with his head on the pillow. Watching your son shift in his sleep, his black hair was thatgrowing out a bit too long against the dark blue satin pillows, you smiled at the view. There was your son, safe and sound, sleeping as if nothing was going to harm him.

Just the way you both wanted.

"He's worried about his momma, just like I am," Azriel explained, his voice solemn as you looked from your sleeping son to your mate, watching him scan your body up and down with his wide eyes. Although you knew his worry was valid from what happened to you, you also wanted to bring Azriel would have the current headspace he was in, which was dark and almost sickening. So you moved your own hands up to cup his cheeks and face, feeling how flushed he was along his skin and almost clammy.

You leaned up and kissed him, his lips were soothing to you since it felt like years since you kissed him last. Azriel instantly caved and melted into your touch as he cupped your jaw with one hand and the other moving down along your waist to tuck you in close without harming your damaged wings. You both needed this kiss, not in a lustful manner but in such a way like lovers who have been separated for some time. It felt like it, you missing his warmth and his soothing touch for however long you were unconscious and slipping in and out of reality. It felt like you were in some deep sleep that had no dreams or nightmares, but almost like you were walking in the form of direction.

Kissing Azriel was your direction, your guided path, and it felt like you were found again.

You barely pulled away from him, breathing in the scent that only Azriel would carry while you were still caressing his face with your fingers and watching him with love in your eyes, "I'm right here, Azriel. I'm right here and breathing and I'm not going anywhere,"

"You better not," He hummed, almost in a light joke but the emotion was still there in his voice, "You're not allowed to leave me In this world,"

"Never," You vowed, that single word rang in the air between you two in the small room. You still had plenty of questions about what happened, from what you remembered last and what occurred in between. Did Azriel know what happened to you? Did the others know and find out through him?

Who was it that did this to you?

Perhaps your husband and mate knew you were thinking deeply, from the look on your face made him stare at you lovingly," You don't need to worry about it, my love,"

Of course, you were going to worry, waking up in a foreign bed and insane pain from almost being poisoned to death. Youknew you were in no unmarked territory or area that you shouldn't be in. In actuality, you knew the woods for centuries and were familiar with the layout. So you weren't lost, nor were you in a nasty situation. Which only left…

"Who was it?" You croaked out, Azriel's eyes going a bit big from the sudden question from you. But you were alert and watching him intently, to which he was shocked by what you meant.

Azriel shook his head, "No, no. Don't worry about it right now, okay?"

"Az—" You were about to argue, but he interrupted you.

"That's for me to deal with, not you," he stated to you, you searching his eyes and seeing something a pinch darker. Hetook in a long inhale, "I'm going to take care of it, I need to. Someone tried to take you from me, and I can't let that go,"

He sounded so broken in that moment with what he said to you, the protective side of Azriel was visible over his eyes and in how he was even kneeling next to the bed. Stiff, on alert, and almost mechanical. This side of Azriel was more prone to inflict fears onto others, to bring even the strongest of men to their knees. You have only seen it a few times in all the life you had with him, and it felt like you were seeing it all over again.

"Stay with me, tonight. Stay Azriel, please," you pleaded with him, thinking having him with you would be the safer option than for him to go out on a rampage. Even with the several questions ringing in your mind, somehow you were willing to just be with your mate. You are also trying to distract him from doing something he would regret in the end, and Azriel reluctantly takes the bait. He sighed, inhaling deeply and then nodding.

"Okay," He hummed, the anger that was threatening to overcome him was now diminishing and evaporating into the air. Maybe he sensed your worry over him, the panic that he may do something that would make him be filled with regret. Carefully, but with swift movement that seemed so fluid, he scooped you in his arms. You clung to him, feeling a bit of the pain as he kissed your forehead and knelt on the bed. He gently got you back on the bed, though he was now on his back and having your head tucked into his neck. Your arms around him, being able to use his body now instead of a body pillow that you were attached to for several hours, and breathing in his musky and yet gentle scent.

Azriel cradled you close in his arms, finding that love again as your body was against his, your hair against his cheek and nose, and feeling your heartbeat against his own. This was his center again, the fact that you were awake and there with Azriel made him feel safe all over again. The last 9 hours were hell, torture upon himself since he had no way to help you or make you wake up for him. But not anymore, and the happiness he thought he lost was slowly coming again in wave after wave.

"I love you," You hummed, your energy was dropping as sleep was about to overcome you. Azriel held you a pinchtighter as you felt his fingers in your long hair.

"I love you more than the stars in all of Prythian," He vowed against your head, you feeling his fingers move along your hair and his lips along your forehead, "I got you right here, get some sleep,"

While you were holding him gently and falling back asleep, a smile was now etched on your lips with the sense of security in your mind that your husband and mate were both holding and protecting you, Azriel was already thinking of what he was going to do with your attacher and whoever else was behind this. Even while you were alive and well, he still had the protective streak about him and that side that was locked away.

It's been some time since he let his Spymaster side come out full throttle, maybe it was time for it to happen again.

"High Lord Beron informed me that Eris went rogue,"

Azriel rubbed his face in his hand, both in frustration and with the anger festering under his skin as he was sitting across from Rhysand in his office. Cassian was chatting with you in the room where you are recovering, Nesta and little Rose accompanying him as they were giving you some company. Alec too was with you, not once leaving your side when he woke up and found you awake in your bed and happy to see him. Azriel knew then that he needed to talk to Rhysand and Cassian about the meeting they had with High Lord Beron the night before while he was with you. Though he was furious that they both conducted with him present, he also knew why: he would have torn the room to pieces in anger beyond reason.

"We showed him the arrow, and he recognized it from Eris's security and their stash of arrows. Not to mention the poison that the arrow was drenched in. He found out Eris left Autumn Court an hour before the attack happened, and hasn't been seen since," Rhysand explained to Azriel, seeing how his shadows were fuming from near this news. Cassian side-eyed Azriel, feeling the tension himself as he cleared his throat.

"Beron doesn't condone what he did, and he claims that it's not a representation of Autumn Court," He said halfheartedly.

"Cassian," Rhysand said in a warning tone, but Cassian simply glared back at him.

"I'm not gonna sugar coat it, Rhys. I don't buy what Beron said: it came from his Court and that makes me suspicious of him," Cassian explained in a shrug.

"I agree, but I also need to take into account that Beron would not place his own Court in the line of fire. He hasn't since the war, why would he do that now?" Rhysand countered back, Cassian huffed silently as he leaned back in his chair. Rhysand focused back on Azriel, who was still quiet throughout the exchange and looking down at his scarred hand that was clutching the arm of his chair. Rhysand could talk to him through his bond with him, he's done it in the past. Butsomething about this moment, seeing his Spymaster and his brother, trying to hold it together, he didn't want to pry his mind. It felt too emotional for him, too raw even, to even tap into his mind.

"Beron has soldiers looking for him, he had made it his personal mission to search for Eris. We also have permission to find him with our men since this happened in our Court," Rhysand explained to Azriel, motioning his head over to Cassian, "Cassian volunteered Illyrians to comb the sky and the woodlands as we speak. If he is found in our territory, we can punish him as we see fit."

Once again, Azriel said nothing, to which both Rhysand and Cassian gave him uneasy looks since the calm demeanor that Azriel was giving off was unsettling. Neither one of them seen him so calm, so collected almost, especially considering his mate nearly died hours before.

"I've already warned the other High Lords in case he does hide out in the other Courts, though I did not close the details and what precisely happened. All of them agreed to notify us if he does show up in their territories, and if he is found—"

"He's mine," Azriel finally spoke, his voice low and raw. Both Cassian and Rhysand shot a look at him, seeing him slowly uncurling his fingers from the arm of the chair. Marks were seen in the wood from his nails, to which his palm was facing up and he made a small fist.

"Azriel, you need to focus on your mate and your son, not Eris," Rhysand gently reminded him, but Azriel shook his head once.

"He's mine," He repeated, his eyes not swaying from looking at his scarred hand. Cassian was looking at him in concern now as Azriel was sitting so still, not blinking once.

"Az," Cassian was about to chime in, but Azriel jumped up abruptly for the chair with such force the chair fell back behind him and bounced off the floor. The fury in his stance, the heated stare that illuminated his hazel eyes, even his shadows were radiating off his body as he glared at Rhsyand in front of him.

"HE WENT AFTER MY WIFE!" He bellowed, his voice booming off the walls with such a force that it was almost deafening. Both the High Lord of Night Court and the Illyrian Army Commander were silent, almost afraid themselves as Azriel was still glaring at Rhysand.

"My…fucking…wife. He wanted her dead….and he went after Alec when he was a babe. I'm done with him and with this," Azriel growled, his scarred hands clenched so tight Rhysand saw the veins pop out in contrast to his scars, "I am done letting him sliding through my fingers. I watched my own wife nearly die in my arms Rhys, enough is enough. Don't you fucking dare tell me you wouldn't feel the same if it was Feyre who was nearly killed,”

Azriel was heated, he might have crossed a line mentioning his High Lady, but he was agitated and no longer wished to be composed. Rhysand felt the pain, and deep down he was right: Rhysand would feel the same if Feyre was the one who was hurt. He would have reprimanded him for mentioning Feyre, but he wasn't going to. Not when Azriel was right. Azriel looked over at Cassian.

"Or you with Nesta," he said, Cassian inwardly growled from the thought of Nesta being in that position.

"I want his head on a spike," Azriel stated as he looked back at his High Lord, "He needs to pay from these past years breathing fear down my family's back for his amusement. I need to know, here and now, that he is mine when he is caught. DoI have your word?"

He was asking Rhsyand, both as his High Lord and also as his brother and friend. He could go against Rhysand if he needed to, his mind was simply on ending Eris and eliminating the threat against his family. No matter what it took, the length and the commitment, he would. But this was one last ditch effort for Azriel to get his High Lord's permission, the last inch of sanity he had.

Rhsyand, giving him a solemn look knowing that Azriel was driven in this, took in a long inhale.

"You have my word," He replied, sealing Eris's hate.

The End.

Tagging - @valeridarkness @impossibelle @acourtofbatboydreams @prettylittlewrites @fxckmiup @sizzlingstarlightsky @iluvyewman-blog @masbt1218 @a-courtof-azriel @homeslices @zanzie @topaz125 @saltedcoffeescotch @he6rtshaker @tenshis-cake @pruvii

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danikamariewrites · 14 hours

Text

Balance

Mob!Azriel x reader AU

A/n: I reread @thehighladywrites professor Eris series and it inspired this lil mob Az blurb. Ruhn week day 1 post will be out later today, love you guys 💕

Warnings: guns, cold medicine

Cracking your eyes open, the sting of dryness made you blink rapidly. The coolness of the bed and room made your runny nose worse along with your cough. Your chest constricted, that dry cough ripping at your throat.

You reached for Azriel, desperate to absorb his warmth to stop your shivering. Touching the cold sheets on his side of the massive bed your hand shakes.

Wiping the sleep from your eyes you see the digital clock on Az’s nightstand blares two in the morning in red numbers. Letting out a groan you pull the covers tight around your shoulders. You swear he was here when you fell asleep, maybe it was a fever dream? You were still fending off a one hundred degree fever so it’s entirely possible.

Azriel was probably working, like he always was. It never bothered you unless you truly needed him like right now. There was only one thing to do now. Make your boyfriend feel guilty by wearing your cutest tired pout and wrapping yourself in a fluff blanket.

Doing exactly that (wearing your extra fluffy slippers for good measure) you head downstairs to Az’s office.

You heard arguing through the cracked door, making you second guess your decision to interrupt Azriel’s work. But, you already walked all the way down here, so there was no turning back now.

Padding over to the door you peek through the opening to assess what you were about to interrupt. Azriel was fully dressed with Rhysand and Cassian flanking him, along with a few other ‘employees’. They all faced someone you couldn’t see. A man, clearly begging for his life, vehemently insisting he did not have the information Azriel was seeking.

You should leave. This isn’t something Azriel would want you near.

But he was right there. And you were desperate for him to comfort you.

The interrogation continued as you stayed hidden behind the oak double doors, your thoughts still warring on whether to stay or leave. As one of Azriel’s men hands him his gun, your body makes the decision for you, of all things a sneeze gives you away. A small squeak coming from you as you try to hold it in. Everyone in the office freezes, shocked by the little noise. Azriel shoves the gun into Cassian’s chest, making his way to doors, his demeanor completely changing into the loving, caring Azriel you know. Pulling the door open lightly you stare up innocently at your boyfriend. Azriel’s concerned face staring back at you, “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Were you sick again?” His tone was soft and worried. You step to move into him but Azriel forces you back a little, confirming that he didn’t want you to see whatever was unfolding in his office.

You shake your head, “No, I just woke up cold and needed you.” Azriel lets out a sympathetic hum, pressing his lips to your forehead. You felt his frown at your still too warm temperature and your trembling shoulders under his arms.

Turning to his men Azriel orders them to finish working. Scooping you into his arms, Az makes sure to angle you to not see inside. Mother above, if must be gruesome in there.

On the way back to your bedroom Azriel whispers calming words to you, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you woke up, my love. I thought the medicine would keep you asleep. We’ll get you some more before you go back to sleep.” He punctuates each sentence with a soft kiss to your temple.

Placing you on the bed with all the care in the world, Azriel slips the blanket from your shoulders, draping it over the end of the bed. Getting another pill from the bathroom he places it on your tongue, holding a glass of water to your lips as you take small sips.

Taking his suit off for the second time that night, leaving him in a pair of black boxers, Azriel climbs into bed pulling you close to his chest. You immediately feel relaxed. Your arms feel heavy as you wrap them around Azriel’s shoulder, sleep creeping back into your body thanks to the meds. “Thank you Azzy, love you s’much.” You babble.

“I love you more, sweetheart. Rest now, I promise I’ll be here when you wake up.” His focus is fully on you now. His work downstairs is long forgotten.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #azriel au #acotar azriel #azriel #azriel fluff #mob!azriel au #mob!azriel

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surielstea · 2 days

Text

“Eyes On Me.”

Based on this request

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: plotless smut

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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utterlyotterlyx · 13 hours

Text

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Ten

Summary - The meeting between Eris, Helion and Tamlin looms meanwhile further betrayal lands you in a place that threatens to break you completely.

Warnings - angst, depression, mentions of torture and trauma, ptsd themes, kinda a dark part to this series.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine

The one special spot in his heart had ached through the night, like somehow, somewhere, you were pulling at the rope wrapped around his heart and soul. Though, Eris couldn't feel you, not truly, all he felt was the occasional pang in his chest that he had convinced himself was you, that it was your way of telling him that you were still there.

It was the only thing he could grasp onto that would give him any amount of hope.

Eris hadn't been able to sleep that night, not when he knew that the chance of getting you out lay in the minds of two other males, on their beliefs and morals. Instead, the High Lord lay on his, your, bed, staring up at the ceiling with an arm tucked behind his head. The thoughts wouldn't stop speaking to him, ones of horror at what Rhys was doing to you whilst he sat safely in Autumn, thoughts that told him how unworthy he was for not moving sooner.

An entire night had been spent that way, from dusk till' dawn, from when the sun set to when the birds began their morning greeting. Light slotted through the still-open curtains, Eris hadn't bothered to close them the night before, knowing that sleep would not grace him anyway. Tension lingered in the manor, it clung to each and every surface it could, seeping into the bones of every object it kissed; it was one of unknowing, and it was putting Eris on edge.

Swinging his legs to find the floor, Eris sat there for a moment, inhaling deeply and attempting to centre himself; his fists were balled up in the cream bed spread that still held the faint scent of you, and he rocked back and forth gently, imagining the ghost of you wrapping your arms around his chest and pressing your lips to his shoulder.

Eris didn't know how long he had sat like that, picturing you straddling him with that smile he loved so much pulling at your lips. Eris was content in sitting like that for the rest of his days if it meant that a part of you was alive within his mind. A curt knock pulled him from the thoughts, and he didn't bother turning around when the door opened and Lucien appeared, "Helion and Tamlin will be arriving soon, just in case you wanted to put a shirt on or something."

Lucien had been trying his best to bring some joy to Eris' world since you had left, he thought that you would have wanted that.

A fleeting moment of silence encapsulated the air, then Eris turned his head to the side slightly, only by a couple of inches to make it clear that he was listening, "Lucien," Eris swallowed hard and from where Lucien stood, he saw his brother fight against the tears threatening to dampen his mask, "Do you really think that she'll make it back?"

The window of the bedroom had become more of a mirror to his dreams recently, he envisioned himself rising one evening after soft waves of your scent reawakened his land to look through that window and see you lingering at the end of the path that led to the manor. Each time he looked through it, he almost crumbled with the disappointment.

Lucien had moved closer to his brother, perching on the spot beside him and sighing, "I think that there is no world that exists where she would ever truly leave you behind," Eris' chin was bowed low, he didn't wish for Lucien to side the more vulnerable side to him, no one ever had really, no one but you, "Whether she knows of the bond or not, y/n loves you. Only a fool would be blind to it."

"I remember when I first met her. It was after you had found Feyre and I, when we had returned from the Night Court after that encounter," Lucien's eyes flickered as he recounted the memory, like the images were replaying in his mind, "I remember being intimidated by her, and all she did for a couple of days was observe me, watch me closer than I ever had been before. Then one day she sat beside me and handed me a book after not speaking more than two words to me, she said that she had found me in the library staring at the spine for a second too long and knew that I was intrigued by it so she went and bought me my own copy," a fond sad smile grew on his lips, then soft amusement flashed in his eyes, "She said no one could ever take a single book from that library without her permission, she had the entire place warded against it. It was then that I knew that she was meant to be in my life in some form, no one had really taken a moment to observe me in a way that mattered. It made me feel bad actually, I thought she was watching me to decipher if I was some kind of threat when actually she was figuring out the ways to help me feel more comfortable and adjust to the life I found myself living."

"She still kept her distance a bit, but I'd often find the odd title left on my bed or some kind of Spring Court baked good on my table. It was her way of showing that she cared, she was the only one out of all of them that really made an effort with me. You hear the stories of her, of how terrifying and monstrous she is, but then you stand with her for a moment and know that she is the most pure thing to ever walk this world," Lucien closed his eyes and dropped his shoulders, and he whispered, "I miss her."

Eris rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed slightly, "So do I, brother. So do I." Eris sighed, the weight of the truth weighing down on him.

"I need to tell you something, about y/n." Eris felt the sidelong glance streak down the side of his face, "When she was Under The Mountain, Amarantha took a special liking to her, she knew that y/n is the most powerful being in Prythian, and she had a theory. Wings are the most sacred thing to Illyrians, they're basically entangled with their souls, and Amarantha suspected that she would be able to alter y/n's soul through them." A chill shrouded the room, "Amarantha placed the stone of a demon in her mutilated flesh the night she took her wings, believing it was a direct line to possessing her, to giving her body as host to the demon trapped within the stone."

"The Monster of Velaris is real, Lucien. It's just not y/n."

Lucien's mouth had gone dry the moment Eris had suggest that you had been experimented on, shaking his head, he demanded more information, "She is sharing her body with a demon? Does she know? How do you know this?"

Straightening his back and looking beyond the window, to the place he always imagined you to be, Eris blinked, and then answered, "Honestly? I don't know if she does," Then the cogs began to turn, "Rhys sent Nesta and Azriel on a mission before I brought y/n here, he sent them Under The Mountain. Nesta found a journal of sorts written by Amarantha on all the things that have happened to her. Things that happened before Amarantha even met her."

"What do you mean?"

Eris didn't want to say it, he didn't want it to be real, not because of his lack of love for you, but because what Rhys had done to both of you was cruel, and if you knew, it may very well shatter your light. And it threatened to shatter his light too.

"We are Carranam. Our bond flows deeper than just mates," he said as though being mates was a fickle speck in the grand scope of what he felt, "Our magic flows as one, our minds reach out for one another. I made her more powerful, more of a threat, and Rhys was ordered to wipe our minds of each other," his fists clenched in the sheets at the thought, "We were in love, Lucien. I always knew it was her, even when I couldn't remember her or our time together, I knew."

Eris was the only person that you had encountered that hadn't looked at you in terror and ware, he looked at you like some precious priceless antique, he admired you from afar and could only wish to one day be graced with some part of you. Eris had never been nor ever would be afraid of you.

Neither would Lucien. "And where is this book now?"

A nudging feeling knocked on Eris' shoulder, notifying him of the two presences that had slipped through the wards from opposite sides of the boarder. Eris rose to his feet, crossing the room and beginning to dress himself in the mirror that he occasionally found you twirling in front of wearing an array on new garments that now lay in the wardrobe in waiting, "It's in the library in the House of Wind."

But that moment wasn't the right one to talk of it, not when two High Lords were approaching the manor eagerly intrigued to know of the message scribed between the lines of Lucien's summons. The two Vanserra brothers had a role to play, a vital one that would allow them to have some form of hope, that would bestow them with allies to demand your freedom.

With a shaky inhale, Eris willed the mask of the High Lord of the Autumn Court to fall over his eyes and prayed to the Mother that it would be enough to save you.

It had become clear quickly that your presence in the River House was enough to make anything with sense scatter to the farthest reaches of the city. Not a single heartbeat other than your own could be heard, it thumped so intensely that it rattled the house.

Something didn't feel right.

A poisonous venom had seeped into your bones and mind, it threatening to wilt your soul and spirit, and for the first time in your life, you felt the darkness begin to salivate over the lightest part of you. The part of you that had always been untouchable, where everyone you loved lay safely.

Rubbing the spot on you chest over your heart, you frowned at the gentle tugging pulling at you, but you continued to ignore it the best you could. Like you had since the moment you stepped beyond the wards of Autumn.

The house had been watching you, reading you, and a small smile graced your face as you turned the corner to find a steaming bowl of soup and bread waiting on the countertop. No one is here to stop you, take it, the home seemed to scream, and you were happy to indulge the order. The hem of your skirt skittered along the floor and brushed against your skin as you stopped in front of the meal, inhaling the aroma of roasted vegetables, chilli and honey; you dived in right away, scooping the spoon left on the counter into the concoction and humming when it hit your lips.

Weak fingers curled around the edge of the surface, using it as leverage to keep you from crumbling to the floor at the first real nutrition you had consumed in what felt like weeks. Time had become scattered to the point where you weren't sure how long you had been locked up in that room or how long exactly you had been a prisoner of the Night Court.

Even looking at your reflection had become strenuous. You couldn't bare to see the sullen cheekbones or the pallid hue that had possessed your skin let alone the dimmed fire in your eyes. Even the twin tattoo of Azriel's had seemed to fade, on the brink of collapse and withering at the loss of fulfilment. There was no point in looking after yourself, you knew that the chances of making it out alive were slim regardless of the alliances made with Cassian and Mor.

A faint creak sounded through the house, an opening of a door, and you froze as a soft melodic voice vibrated through the home, "Hello?" It sounded so familiar, the voice held a certain softness to it, a softness you knew very well but couldn't quite place in your haze, "It's Gwyn," she wavered, "I just wanted to drop off some treats for y/n?" A footstep echoed as the priestess delved further into the home, probably feeling the icy atmosphere coil around her frame.

Without thinking, you stepped out from the threshold of the kitchen and winced when the basket between her fingers crashed to the floor, "Oh gods," Gwyn scrambled to repack the delicately wrapped treats back into the basket and did her best to pick every crumb from the carpet before placing it to the side and approaching you, tentatively, like she had found a wounded animal in the middle of a forest.

"Gwyn," your shakily reached for her and she slid her hands into yours, her warmth instantly soothing the ache within you for a kind touch, "Are you really here?"

Gwyn glanced to your neck, to the inky black veins poking out from the onyx collar locked around your throat, and then to your wrists where her fingers had licked against the same stone, "What is this?"

"Rhys put these on me, they block my magic," the stone purred against your skin, relishing in the life pouring into it, "I'm a prisoner here now, I can't leave."

"Rhys did this to you?" Rhys her High Lord? Rhys your brother by blood? Rhys?

Humming gently, you felt the air swirl, a soft caress from the house that sought to warn you that soon enough you wouldn't be alone, "Gwyn I need you to do something," he grasped her arms desperately, her blue eyes gazed at you with water gathered on the bottom lid but she nodded, "I need you to get a message to Nesta and Eris, they're at Fir Manor in the Autumn Court. You tell them that I am here and what Rhys has done to me, you tell them that I am turning people to my side. You tell them that I love them and that if I don't make it out of here then they have to know that there is no place they could go where I wouldn't be walking beside them."

The world rumbled and you knew then that the presence approaching was not kind or understanding, it was everything opposite of that, "Take the basket and go, Gwyn," you glanced to her, "Get out of here before he sees you."

Gwyn hesitated but turned and left, her braid flowing over her shoulder as she swept up the basket of pastries in her fingers on her exit. The girl was clever enough not to linger, and you mustered up whatever little power that still dwelt within you, the last speckles of magic left, to glamour her scent just as Rhys stalked through the back door.

Rhys sniffed the air and his pupils dilated before his gaze landed on you, his frail and hunched over sister stood in the doorway that no longer reeked of Autumn. The house had whisked away its offering before he had entered, leaving no remnants of its care toward you and returning to its usual position of bystander. A talon reached to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, it trailed down your cheek and along your jaw, then it grasped your chin and jolted your head to meet the gaze of its owner.

"Azriel tells me that Helion and Tamlin entered the Autumn Court this morning," his head ticked to the side and his eyes darkened, he drew you closer into his body, "Seems as though your friend is rallying support."

Azriel.

Of course he was still watching over Autumn.

It was foolish to believe that you could change his mind, it was obvious that he served the delusional thoughts and beliefs of your brother, the only one who did actually. Pain struck through your body, and if it weren't for Rhys holding you up, you would have sank to the floor.

Gone were the days of entering your room to find him propped up on your comforter reading a book. Gone were the days of his showering affections and ghosting touches, of his lovesick gaze and bright smiles. Gone were the nights at the cabin promising to always care for one another and planning your futures around one another. It was all gone.

Standing chest to chest with Rhys, you could see his eyes morph to black, and now that you were powerless it was enough to terrify you, and you felt yourself shrinking in his embrace, "I have no hand in what Eris does."

"I know that my sweet sister," he pressed his lips to your forehead and smiled at the chilled caress that met them, "It just means that I now have to move you somewhere much less comfortable."

"You're a psychopath."

Rhys' smile widened into a grin and his grip wound around you a little tighter, "I prefer creative."

The world evaporated in a kaleidoscope of colour, and then you were somewhere dark and cold, where the only sound was the occasional dripping from the open sky light that allowed little to no light into the room. A metallic stench clung to the air, it was moulded with despair and longing, a horribly dark and lonely aura encapsulated the space. Dark stone encased you, no windows existed bar the one that lingered a hundred feet overhead, and the only source of light burned from the lanterns glowing every few metres, making the stone floor glow, and then you realised where you were.

The Prison.

Where the most vile and corrupt creatures were locked away and forgotten about.

Coiling his fingers around your upper arm, Rhys dragged you down the halls, groans and manic laughter emitted from the cells as they hurtled past and you bare feet struggled to keep up with Rhys' pace. You fought against his grip, using your digits to try and pry his hand from your flesh but it was no use, you had little to no strength left, you had used the last parts of your magic to glamour Gwyn's scent.

The rattling of your chains had spurred on the inhabitants of The Prison, all of which had pressed their eyes against their gates and were trying to reach you, their fingers brushing against your flesh as you pleaded with Rhys to stop whilst they whispered and hissed into the abyss.

The Princess.

Demon.

Death.

"Rhys, please, you can't do this. Please." The queen that lived within you had vanished, she had retreated into the darkest part of you for refuge and watched on as the last bulb of your light flickered.

His pace did not falter at your cries, and the unsettling vocalisations of the prisoners continued on, "I'll be back for you once this all blows over," he rounded the corner and you saw the open door, of a room that awaited to devour you and everything that you were or could be. Rhys tossed you inside, not even flinching when your knees collided with the floor and your body slumped against the poor excuse of a bed, it was more like an altar, like the one Amarantha had chained you to that night. Upon further reflection you discovered that the altar didn't just look like it, it was an exact replica of the one in her torture chamber.

Groaning doors pulled and locked into place and you crawled to it, bottom lip wobbling and resolve disappearing more with each passing moment. Grasping the bars, you hauled yourself up, clearing your blurred vision to see Rhys turning away from you and heading back in the direction where he had dragged you from, "Rhys! Please. Please don't leave me here. Please."

Soft sobs broke through your lips when he didn't even move his head and winnowed from sight. Turning from the bars, you sank to the floor and pulled your knees to your chest, your body shook furiously as it took in the darkness that welcomed you like an old friend, and that altar grinned at you like a loaded gun. Rhys knew exactly what he was doing when he put that in the chamber, it was his final attempt to break your mind, to put you back into the worst moment of your existence and watch as you succumbed to it.

For the first time in awhile, your mind was silent, no bickering thoughts swarmed around the canvas of it and in any other moment you'd be relieved, but you yearned for them to speak to you, to tell you what move to make next.

Raking your fingers through your matted hair, you allowed yourself to fall apart, muffling your cries into the torn skirt of your grey gown that drowned your figure. The writhing muscles in your shoulders caused you no pain that you hadn't already felt, and so you ignored them and crawled to the altar, pulling the thin pillow and blanket from the cold surface, finding a place in the corner of the cell and curling into a ball atop of it.

"Please keep him safe," you asked the Mother in a hushed tone, fixating your gaze on the wall, on any place that wasn't the altar, "Please allow his pages to turn gently," a tear rolled down your cheek, "Please."

As if your prayer had reached the recipient, a soft breeze swirled at your lower back, seemingly fitting the blanket tighter around your wilting body, and you sighed. The Prison wasn't a place that anyone walked out of alive, and you knew that you were no exception to the eons old knowledge.

No sleep dared to coax you, there were no happy dreams that could soothe you, and all you could do was stare at the stone alter that had cooed to your will shrouded in darkness as the first branch of your mind cleaved in two.

Author's Note

Here it is! Kind of a tough one to write x

Taglist

@mybestfriendmademe @jesskidding3 @rosewood-cafe @fandomarchiveilyd @brujitafantomatico @crazylokonugget @mai-adaptive-dreams @magicstrengthandcourage @acourtofmoonlightandstars @ysmtttty @lilah-asteria @circe143 @xyzmeh @paleidiot @namelesssav @amberlynn98 @acourtofbatboydreams @azrielsmate3 @ivy-34 @mp-littlebit @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @ifonlyiwerefiction @pirana10 @donttellthecats @padbaeamidla @oucereeng @andreperez11 @demonicbusiness @megscabinetofcurios @superspideyparker @julesofvolterra

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a-court-of-fics-and-errors · 1 day

Text

Keep Moving Forwards: Part 3

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Part 1, Part 2

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 3K

Author's Note: This is the second part of what I anticipate will be a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

You continued to cling to the trunk of the tree long after the two males below had brought their fire to a roaring inferno. They finished off the food you had packed, and you looked down at the two small specks on the ground below. Stupid, you thought. You shouldn’t have stayed in the woods; you should have kept going. Finally, you let your hands move from the trunk to the branch. The ache in your arms from holding yourself up made your joints stiff as you shimmied into a sitting position, your back pressed against the trunk. Your movement made the males below perk up their ears, their heads turning to you in anticipation until they heard you settle and went back to their chattering.

“Where will you go?” Darian asked, throwing the chicken bone he had sucked clean over his shoulder into the woods. The logs in the fire cracked and snapped.

The leader shook his head, his knee pulled to his chest as the other extended in front of him, sitting on your blanket. “I don’t know. They haven’t told me yet.”

“You’ve gotta be excited, though?”

He raised an eyebrow towards his companion, who took one of his knives out of the holster and began swiping it under his fingernails, no longer looking at him. “Why would I be excited?”

Darian brought his thumbnail to his mouth, taking it between his teeth and pulling a loose piece from it before spitting it onto the ground. His eyes narrowed at the piece he couldn’t quite grab as he pulled his hand back to his mouth. “Restationing,” he said finally, spitting another piece onto the ground. “Getting out of this hellhole.”

“It’s not that bad,” the leader responded, his eyes locked on Darian, who finally put the knife back in the holster and flicked his eyes back to the male across the fire.

“Not bad?” He chuckled lightly. “It’s disgusting. There’s piss and shit everywhere. I think they actually ship the boots in covered in mud, and have you ever gone a full night in one of the tents without waking up damp and sore?”

“It’s a training camp, Darian, not exactly glamorous. Besides, they’re all the same, whether you’re in Illyria or not.”

Darian shrugged, leaning back, his forearms propping him up. “At least it’s a change.”

The leader shrugged, letting the leg he had propped up fall to the blanket. He looked up towards where you sat in the tree, peering down. “You’re sure it’s a female?” he asked.

Darian glanced upwards, “It’s either a female or a male with a round ass.” He chuckled to himself. “A really nice ass.”

The leader, still looking up towards you, chuckled. “I think it’s been a while since you’ve been around a female, Darian.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

The leader shook his head, chuckling to himself. “Your hunger is showing.”

Darian turned his palms up, mouth slightly slackening open. “What? I haven’t had a good fuck in a while.”

“What about that washer girl?”

Darian scoffed. “I wouldn’t say that was a good fuck.”

“Still, got your cock wet.”

Darian scoffed, “Warm at best.” He shook his head. “The same pussy gets old. You need something fresh and new.”

“How many times did you fuck her?”

Darian smiled to himself. “How many times did you?”

The leader chuckled under his breath. “A few.”

Darian flashed his catlike, venom-filled smile to the male across from him. “Then I would say a few as well. Most of us fucked her a few times.” His fingers quoted around the word "few." “Not like there’s a ton of options.”

Darian leaned back fully, clasping his hands behind his head as he rested it against them, staring up at the sky. “There’s a perk to restationing. Finally getting some new females to fuck.”

“You could outsource, Darian,” the leader offered. Darian raised an eyebrow and looked up at the other male. “You could start fucking males.”

A disgusted look crossed Darian’s face. “Even if I wanted to, you couldn’t pay me to fuck one of those soldiers. Most of them haven’t bathed in weeks, and they probably have fucked up dicks or some sort of disease from fucking a hole in the ground.”

The leader laughed. “I don’t know, if you’re that desperate, a hole is a hole.”

“Yeah, well,” Darian said, resting his head back, “I prefer to keep my hole and my cock clean.”

“Not sure that washer girl would agree.”

“Fuck off,” Darian chided him.

The leader looked back up to the tree. “I’ll take the first watch,” he finally said.

“Fine by me,” Darian said, readjusting himself on his hand as he brought one arm over his eyes to block out the firelight.

High above, the chill of the night hit you deep in your bones as you envied the fire below. Your teeth chattered, and it felt as though the very bones in your body were vibrating, trying to get the cold out of them. Your fingers clenched the branch, your joints aching so acutely you thought they had frozen in place as your nose ran from the cold. You sniffled, looking towards the moonlight, which seemed to be a pale blue color, and you prayed to the Mother for any help she could offer.

Exhaustion returned to your eyes as you shivered, your eyelids slowly closing. You fought it off, shaking yourself back awake, your body shifting on the tree branch as you momentarily caught your balance and gripped the branch again. As you continued to fight the heaviness of your eyelids, you heard a familiar voice echoing in your head.

“Cold, baby?” it whispered.

You scrunched your eyes, trying to bring the wall of the bond back down. But it was as though the wall had cracks, and that voice trickled its way into your mind.

“Come home,” he urged. “It’s warm. There’s a fire. I made warm roasted cinnamon apples and rabbit.”

You caught yourself licking your lips, almost able to taste the cinnamon and the oily, delicious rabbit. You shook your head, trying to push him out.

“You’ve had your fun, my love. Just show me where you are. I’ll come get you.” For a second, in a moment of weakness, you considered it. How he would arrive before morning, finding these men camped at the base of your tree, waiting for you to falter. How he would beat them, throwing them to the ground, or speak to them, claiming you as his, and with just those few words, they might back down. Then you came to your senses.

“No,” you sent back.

“It’s good to hear your voice, baby. Even if it’s being stupid,” he whispered back, his voice biting on the words.

You managed to slam the bond shut, pushing him out of your mind until it was quiet again.

The sun finally faded fully as the last bits of purples turned into blues. The two males below you continued their foul, idle chatter about this and that. But you decided not to care anymore as you considered your options.

It was clear they were too regimented to fall asleep, and after listening to them for the last hour, you knew that returning to the ground would be met with some form of assault. Reasoning with them seemed foolish. So you sat, perched on the branch, praying silently for a miracle. Every shift you made had their heads swiveling towards you, their ears primed to your movements. There would be no sneaking away. Perhaps it would be better to plummet to the earth.

Across the horizon, you saw faint flashes of light, an armada of clouds slowly grumbling its way through the line of mountains. Great, you thought. Nothing like being stuck in a giant tree in a rainstorm. The two males below seemed to realize the incoming onslaught as well.

“Fuck,” the leader huffed as Darian pulled his arms back from his face, sitting up.

Darian looked to the sky, now lit up by a crack of thunder. He turned to the leader. “What do you want to do?”

The leader paused, weighing the options of staying and hoping you’d descend in the storm or leaving for the reprieve of dry shelter. “Theron’s already told them we’re waiting it out,” he finally said. “So we wait it out.”

The smaller male seemed unhappy with that answer as he gazed up again at the clouds slowly inching across their sightline. “This ass might be more trouble than it’s worth.”

“It’s not just about that,” the leader responded, prodding the fire again.

The two were silent as you watched the gargantuan clouds slide into the meadow and towards you. High as you were in the tree, you could see every thunderous cloud ignited by the lightning and felt the crack of it deep in your bones. And then the rain started, a bone-chilling downpour that ran down your skin, freezing over the joints already hardened by the tree. As night deepened and your hold on the branch became more slippery, you noticed the slow sway of the trees as the wind picked up, howling in your ears and biting at your exposed skin. You clenched your eyes shut as the rain continued its onslaught, the weight of your body shifting as the trees ached under the wind’s push.

You couldn’t even open your eyes to look down at what the two predators below were doing, although you couldn’t imagine that in weather like this, the forest floor was much better off. Another bolt of lightning illuminated the sky, and you began to count: one, two, three, four, CRASH. Four miles away, and still making its way towards you. Your hair whipped into your face as you finally opened your eyes, your fingers clenched tightly around the branch for dear life. When you managed a glance down, the soldiers had pulled your blanket over their heads, no longer looking up, trying to shield themselves from the downpour. More lightning, one, two, three, four, CRACK.

With the incredible tremor of the crack echoing above you, you momentarily lost your grip. Your boot slipped from under you, and your body lurched to the side. “Fuck,” you gasped, reaching out to steady yourself on the trunk. You righted yourself quickly, shooting a glance back down at the males below. They hadn’t looked up. Perhaps the wind or the rain had finally muffled your movements. You caught your breath as another bolt shot across the sky, the thunder tailing it with three counts. The storm was getting closer, the wind and rain growing more intense.

As the trees bowed, you could almost reach out and grab the adjacent tree’s branches. Slowly, a plan that seemed more stupid than daring formed within you. You would have to jump the trees, time it with the wind and the thunder to not draw attention, and then make your escape—all while the downpour continued. You peered down again; the males below were still unmoving, unaware of the idiotic feat you were about to attempt. Another crack, and you counted: one, two. The next thunderous bellow would only be one second after the lightning. You’d spent many nights, pressed under your mate while the world raged around you, counting the seconds between the lightning and thunder as you tried to crawl out of your own skin. You knew the storms now, and you knew how they were timed.

You pulled your legs up beneath you to a crouch, gripping the trunk of the tree as you focused on the outline of the adjacent one next to you, now slowly bowing in your direction. A flash of light. Your legs left the tree. The thunder cracked in your ears. Your body slammed into the neighboring tree, the impact forcing the air from your lungs. You let out a breathless, airy screech, hands grabbing blindly for any branches as your body slid slightly down the trunk. When you finally stopped yourself, you had dropped about three feet, hanging from a branch. You wrapped your legs around the trunk, pulling yourself onto the rather small perch of your new tree. Your heart pounded in your ears. Stupid. That was a gloriously stupid idea. When you finally felt stable, you looked down to see the two males still huddled together. It had worked—they hadn’t seen your leap or heard the slap of your wet clothes as your body slammed from one place to another.

You gulped down the anticipation and excitement, readying yourself for the next bolt of lightning, before throwing yourself into the next tree. Another smack of your body and frenzied scramble for a branch to hold, and you were one tree farther from the males below. But as the thunder and lightning continued to crack, the wind began dying down. By the time you had made your way five trees away, you were no longer reaching out for a tree but using your feet to push against the trunk to launch yourself forward. The rain was letting up, and now, with their fire extinguished, you could barely see the two soldiers. Your time was running out. You paused, listening for movement from below, but heard nothing. It was still quiet, even as the rain began to let up. You took a second to catch your breath, heaving heavy breaths. Your lungs felt raw from the cold, and you suspected your clothes now had many more tears than when you had first started. Each jump had brought you farther down the tree’s length, and you had now dropped a good fifteen feet closer to the earth.

As you prepared for your next leap, you realized that in the darkness you had miscalculated the distance. Your fingers barely scraped the needles of the tree as you began to plummet toward the ground. Your hands, frenzied in the dark, reached for anything but felt nothing but cold rain and wind. You let out a scream as your body slammed into a lower branch, your back arching around it before you flipped over, sliding onto another branch that struck the side of your face. It felt like you were falling forever, your hands still trying to save you, until you finally hit the ground, slamming into the muddy forest floor. Heart in your throat, struggling to breathe, you suddenly heard rustling.

“What the fuck was that?” Darian said.

You tried to steady your wheezing breath, pulling yourself up from the ground to check if anything was broken. A sharp pain emanated from your ribs, and you hissed as you lifted yourself. Cracked, if not broken. An animal noise of pain slipped out from between your lips as you heard, “She’s not up there.”

“Did she fall?” the leader asked.

You wheezed again, grateful for the continued patter of the rain, which was lessening by the second. You had to move. You had to run.

“I don’t see her,” Darian called back. He must have scaled the tree.

You gripped your ribcage as it burned and screamed at you, pulling yourself to your feet and steadying yourself against the tree. You should have broken your neck from that fall, but hitting the branches may have actually saved you.

You started moving, each step sending a lip-curling spike of pain up your back. More than just your ribs were hurt, but you couldn’t pinpoint the pain; in truth, everything hurt.

“She didn’t fucking disappear,” you heard the leader call back.

You made your way forward, a slow gait, thanking the Mother that the rain meant the males couldn’t make a fire. You let out a few broken breaths, stifling a cough as you wandered deeper into the forest, not even bothering to brush the hair from your eyes.

“Start looking, she’s here somewhere,” the leader ordered. With that, your pace quickened. Trying to run, your feet felt as if they were full of lead. You heard crashing from behind you but didn’t dare to turn around, fearing that taking your eyes off the ground for even a second would have you tripping over a vine or root. So you pressed forward, hearing the males behind you arguing as they slowly gained on you. They must have struggled to see in the rain as well, even as the lightning sporadically lit the sky.

Without being able to stop it, your body forced out a cough, leaving an iron taste in your mouth. You coughed again, doubling over slightly as you spat what you were sure was pure red onto the ground.

“I heard her!” Darian called as he began to run behind you.

You coughed again, trying to straighten, taking a few steps forward and nearly falling on your face. When you finally caught your breath, hand still clinging to your side, you began to run. You weren’t sure how, but your feet hit the wet ground with slaps as you struggled to breathe at all. At this point, you might have stopped breathing altogether.

You heard crashing behind you, sure that the two battle-trained males could and would outrun you, catching up at some point. But you pushed forward regardless, trying to hold back the coughs that wracked your body.

“Keep going!” you heard one of them call out. “I can see her!”

This was it. This was the end. They were going to catch you and kill you. It was happening.

“Stop!” you heard Darian call. “Stop!” he yelled again. Before you knew what was happening, you felt the world fall out from under you as you plummeted down into a ravine, the world spinning around you.

You felt your already battered body slam into icy water, the cold feeling as though you had been stabbed by swords. Your mouth opened, filling as your lungs pulled in water. You swung your hands wildly upwards as you realized you were submerged, swimming to the surface, unsure when you finally managed to breathe as the rain continued to pound down on you. A river. A fast-moving river, and you were being dragged down it.

Then, without warning, you felt a sharp pain to your head, and everything went black.

Thank you again for all the support! Special thanks to those who asked to be tagged in the fic going forwards, I can't express how grateful I am that you all took the time to read my writing, and enjoyed it :) @thatacotargirl @mcuamerica , @lilah-asteria , @florabelll , @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx

Also, I am out of town this weekend so may not be able to post the next update till Monday but I promise it is coming!

#azriel x reader fic #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar #acotar abuse #acotar fanfic #acotar azriel #azriel #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel fic #azriel angst #azriel x y/n #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar fandom #Keep Moving Forwards Fic

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thewulf · 14 hours

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Beneath the Healer's Touch || Azriel

Summary: Request - I was wondering if you could write an ACOTAR fic with Azriel as the reader’s mate where the reader is Madja’s apprentice, but she rarely ever asks her to personally treat their patients, like she’s just there to assist with the equipment and materials and stuff and the IC never really questioned it... Read Rest Here

A/N: Wasn't planning on putting two Az fics out in a row but I just had to write this. Love it so much, thank you for the requests :)

Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (Night Court Healer Reader)

Word Count: 5.6k +

TW: Use of Magic (fluffy), yelling

You huddle against the rough fabric of the medical tent situated perilously close to the front lines. As Madja’s apprentice your role in the Night Court has always been subdued. Your presence nearly as invisible as the shadows where you often stand. A shy but observant female fae, you’ve adapted to watching and learning. You assisted with the preparation of healing instruments and materials rather than engaging in the direct act of healing itself. Madja, the seasoned healer you serve under has never asked you to step beyond these boundaries . That was until today.

Outside of the tent the clash and clamor of war reverberate through the air. A constant reminder of the stakes at play. Inside the tent the atmosphere is thick with the scent of blood and herbs being punctuated by the groans of soldiers bearing the fresh scars of battle. Each day the flow of injured warriors increases, overwhelming even Madja’s formidable skills.

Her usual calm efficiency begins to wane under the strain. Her movements growing more frantic as she tries to attend to multiple critical cases simultaneously. The limited space of the tent is filled with the wounded and the air is heavy with desperation and the iron tang of blood.

Seeing the desperation in Madja's eyes as she struggles to keep up you begin to feel the weight of every unattended soldier pressing down upon you. Your hands which were so accustomed to organizing and managing the background needs itch to do more — to heal and to help directly.

In a moment of sheer necessity Madja turns to you with a look of grave urgency. "I need you now, more than ever," she says over the din of suffering. Her voice thick with exhaustion. "You must help me heal them. We are losing too many. I have called for more help, but I need you today."

As the urgent call pierces through the chaotic sounds of the medical tent you look into Madja’s eyes feeling the weight of her plea. Your heart races but your response is calm and resolute. “I’ll do it,” you say quickly. The words almost catching in your throat.

Madja reaches out, her hand briefly squeezing yours. A gesture laden with both gratitude and apology. “I’m sorry to ask this of you,” she murmurs as her voice laced with regret as she glances at the wounded waiting for attention.

You shake your head dismissing her concerns with a small, reassuring smile that you hope masks your nervousness. “It’s alright, Madja. I’ll be okay,” you assure her while stepping closer to the first of many soldiers who need your help. Your voice is stronger than you feel, imbued with a determination that you muster from the depths of your commitment to heal. Despite the personal cost.

With a deep, steadying breath you prepare yourself for the task ahead knowing each healing touch will draw the pain into your own body. But in this moment of desperate need your resolve is unwavering. You are ready to face whatever comes for the sake of those who depend on you.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you step forward. Your usual place behind the scenes abandoned for the harsh reality of frontline medical work. You approach the first soldier laid out before you. His injuries severe and daunting. As you extend your hands to begin the healing a part of you recoils knowing the personal cost you will soon pay. With a deep breath you brace yourself against the incoming tide of pain that will transfer to you as you heal him accepting the burden as the price of your newfound duty.

In the stifling heat of the medical tent, you move from one soldier to the next. Your hands becoming conduits of both healing and suffering. The first soldier’s injury—a deep gash across his arm—closes under the gentle press of your palms but the sharp sting of the wound sears through you as if the blade had cut into your own flesh. You stifle a gasp, biting down on your lip to keep composed as the pain lingers. It was a cruel echo of the soldier's relief.

With each healing the burden grows heavier. A fractured leg brings an ache that settles deep into your bones making you falter for a moment as you steady yourself against a tent pole. A burn from a fire spell sends waves of searing heat coursing through your skin. You struggle to maintain the calm exterior expected of a healer. Despite the agony each touch brings you press on being driven by the urgent need around you.

The soldiers were unaware of the cost you pay with each healing thank you with weak smiles and hoarse words of gratitude. You return their thanks with nods and a faint smile making sure to hide the toll their pain exacts upon you.

Throughout all of this the Inner Circle is embroiled in their own battles too consumed by strategic planning and counterattacks to notice the quiet suffering of Madja’s apprentice. They see you sometimes as a fleeting figure moving among the cots, but the depth of your sacrifice remains unseen being masked by the chaos of war and the stoic mask you wear.

The pain accumulates as a collection of injuries that are not your own yet reside within you. As the day wears on you feel yourself weakening. The physical costs of your hidden ability dragging at your limbs making each step heavier. Each breath shallower. Still, you continue, the need to help, to heal, pushing you beyond your limits. The cries of pain are a call you cannot ignore even as each healing tears a little piece from your own reserves of strength.

In the privacy of brief moments alone when you can lean against the cool canvas of the tent and close your eyes, the reality of your situation presses close, intimate, and overwhelming. How long can you sustain this? The question haunts the back of your mind, but you push it away instead focusing on the faces of those you’ve saved on the necessity of your pain for their relief. This is the path you’ve chosen. Hidden in shadows yet illuminated by the faint glow of altruism, bearing silently the scars that no one else can see.

As dusk begins to settle over the camp casting long shadows between the rows of tents Azriel returns from a skirmish. His usually composed expression tightened with discomfort. The shadows that constantly swirl around him seem agitated reflecting his unease. He carries a minor wound. A laceration on his arm that under normal circumstances would be a trivial matter for a healer of his caliber. However, this wound is tainted with faebane, a substance notorious for its ability to thwart fae healing magic.

You watch from a distance initially noticing the way he grimaces as he presses his fingers against the jagged edge of the cut attempting to coax his own magic to seal it. But the faebane embedded in the wound repels each attempt. And with each failed healing his frustration grows. An exceptionally rare crack in his usually impenetrable demeanor.

Recognizing his struggle, you approach him tentatively. The weight of the day’s healings presses heavily on you. Each step toward him a battle against the fatigue that threatens to buckle your knees. “Azriel,” you call softly not wanting to startle him.

He looks up and for a brief moment you’re caught in the intensity of his gaze. His eyes that were usually so guarded and unreadable were now openly display his vexation and pain. "It's this damned faebane," he mutters almost to himself as his hand falls away from the wound.

Stepping closer you offer a small, reassuring smile though your body screams in protest. “Let me try,” you whisper while extending your trembling hands towards his arm.

As your fingers brush against his skin a shock of connection jolts through you. Stronger and more profound than anything you've felt with the other soldiers. It’s as if his very soul resonates with yours. A hum of compatibility that whispers of a deeper bond. Your heart stutters in your chest but you focus on the task at hand pushing away the implications of what this connection might mean.

You press your palms to the laceration and immediately a sharp pain slices through your own arm, mirroring Azriel’s wound. You stifle a cry by biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to taste blood. The sensation is intense, more so because it’s Azriel’s pain you’re sharing now. Despite the agony you pour your energy into the healing being driven by a newfound desperation.

Azriel watches you. His expression shifting from one of pain to concern. "You don’t have to do this," he starts. His voice rough with his own discomfort and the growing worry for yours.

But you shake your head pushing through the pain with a determination that frightens even you. "I can handle it," you lie. The words barely a whisper over the throbbing in your arm. As the faebane slowly loses its grip and the wound begins to close a wave of dizziness hits you. So strong that you sway on your feet.

As Azriel steadies you with his shadows curling anxiously around his form he is acutely aware of the pain coursing through his arm, mirroring the wound he just healed. As a shadowsinger he has always been attuned to the deeper often hidden emotions of those around him. He was capable of sensing the unspoken pains and secret fears that others carry silently. However, this experience is startlingly intense. A raw echo of agony that pulses through him with unusual clarity.

The pain he feels as you heal him doesn't feel like his own. It’s as if he’s tapped into a direct stream of your suffering. This connection, though new and unexplored, unnerves him. It is more profound than anything he has experienced through his shadows before. Almost as if the pain itself has a voice, whispering of shared suffering and mutual burden. He struggles with the realization that he is feeling your agony so vividly. The lines of empathy blurring into something deeper. Something he can't quite understand yet.

In this moment as the faebane's resistance fades and the laceration begins to heal, Azriel finds himself grappling with a mix of concern and a peculiar sense of protectiveness. The intensity of the connection doesn’t fit into the usual confines of his abilities or past experiences. While he doesn't comprehend the full extent of what this means—far from realizing the potential of a mate bond—he recognizes that something significant lies beneath the surface of this shared pain. This unexpected insight into your sacrifice doesn't just alarm him. It shifts something fundamental in how he perceives you. Compelling him to reassess the nature of your relationship and his instincts towards you.

His hands were gripping your shoulders with surprising gentleness. "What is this costing you?" he asks. His voice laced with a rare note of vulnerability having felt a trace of your suffering through the nascent bond neither of you yet understands.

You want to reassure him. To tell him it’s nothing but the shadows in his eyes seem to see through you, recognizing the depth of your sacrifice. In this shared moment of pain and healing the unspoken truth of your connection lingers heavily between you. A secret laid bare by the battle scars you both carry.

You meet Azriel's intense gaze seeing the concern etched in his features threatening to unravel the composure you've fought so hard to maintain. His hands on your shoulders feel both grounding and alarming. As if they're the only things keeping you from collapsing under the weight of your own sacrifices. "I need to keep going," you manage to say. Your voice a strained whisper that barely conceals the weariness lacing each syllable. "There are others who need me."

Trying to inject a note of reassurance into your tone you add quickly, "It's part of healing, Azriel. I'll be okay." Even as you speak the words you feel the hollowness behind them. A contrast to the truth of your pain. But you're determined not to let him see just how much it's affecting you not wanting to add to his burdens.

With a gentle but firm push against his hands you step back pulling away from his comforting grasp. "I have to go," you insist, turning towards the next cot where another soldier lies moaning in pain. You don't look back almost afraid that if you do your resolve will crumble under the weight of his worry and the unspoken connection that you both feel but don't yet understand. You move forward, each step fueled by a mix of duty and the urgent need to escape the intensity of his scrutiny and the complicated emotions it stirs within you.

Azriel was still visibly troubled by the earlier interaction. With your evident strain he insists on accompanying you as you move from one wounded soldier to another. His presence is a silent, watchful shadow that lingers just at the edge of your vision. While the others of the Inner Circle are engaged in the throes of battle, Azriel has chosen to remain by your side. A decision that speaks more of his concern than any words could.

As you press on each healing session takes more from you. Draining your energy, drawing more of your strength. Azriel observes closely noting the increasing pallor of your skin and the subtle tremors in your hands each time you withdraw them from a wound. Despite your attempts to mask your pain, each expression, each falter does not escape his vigilant gaze.

As you lean over a severely wounded soldier focusing intently on sealing a deep, life-threatening laceration the accumulated pain from your healings surges like a tide, overwhelming and relentless. The sharp and unyielding agony lashes through you, blurring your vision and weakening your knees. You feel the darkness creeping in at the edges of your consciousness threatening to pull you under.

In a desperate bid to maintain control you reach out not for Azriel but for the tent’s support pole—a futile attempt to steady yourself. Yet, your hands grasp only air as your strength finally fails. Before you can process the fall Azriel’s arms are around you. His reaction swift and sure. He pulls you gently against him cushioning your collapse as he lowers both of you smoothly to the floor of the tent.

In this moment your pride battles with the undeniable relief of his support. You hadn't called for him. You hadn't wanted to admit that he might have been right about the danger of your condition, yet here he is, the one catching you as you fall. His presence is both a comfort and a confrontation. A not-so-subtle reminder of your own vulnerability.

Azriel cradles you against his chest. His expression a mask of concern etched deep with the lines of fear for your well-being. He doesn’t speak immediately instead opting to brush a gentle hand across your forehead, pushing away strands of hair matted with sweat. His touch is soft, almost reverent, as if he’s both trying to comfort you and reassure himself of your presence.

Around you the battle's distant roars continue but within the tent a quiet bubble of stillness envelops you both punctuated only by your labored breaths. Azriel’s gaze is locked on your face searching for any sign of recovery. Looking for any indication that you might overcome this bout of weakness.

In his eyes there is a flicker of something more—something beyond mere concern. It's a profound realization of your sacrifice. Of the silent suffering you've endured to heal others. And with this realization comes a fierce protectiveness. A vow forming in the depths of his being. He holds you closer, a silent promise cradled in the curve of his arms, that from this moment forward he will do whatever it takes to protect you. To ensure that this burden of pain is no longer yours to bear alone. The bond between you seemingly mysterious and undefined becomes his anchor. The thing he clings to as he silently pledges to be the safeguard you might not admit you need but he knows you deserve.

The pain you've been shouldering now echoes clearly through the bond that neither of you fully understands yet. But its intensity is unmistakable. Azriel feels each pang as if it were his own. A shared torment that binds you together with an ironclad tether. His face was mere inches from yours and is etched with deep concern and something akin to fear. "Hold on," he urges. His voice a low, desperate command. "Stay with me."

As Azriel holds you in his arms feeling the distressing ebb of your consciousness his protective instincts surge into high alert. The warmth from your body seems to be fading and your breathing becomes worryingly shallow. Typical signs that your physical limits have been catastrophically breached. Panic tightens its grip on him. A vivid contrast to the usual calm demeanor of the shadowsinger.

"Madja!" he calls out desperately. His voice piercing the relative quiet of the tent with an urgency that rattles the air. The shadows around him stir reflecting his growing desperation. He needs her expertise, her understanding of your mysterious condition that now seems perilously close to claiming you.

Madja rushes through the flaps of the tent with her healer's bag clutched tightly, the sight that greets her—a formidable Azriel cradling you, pale and barely conscious—draws a sharp intake of breath from her. She kneels beside you both. Her experienced eyes quickly assessing your condition.

"What happened?" she demands. Her voice thick with worry and confusion. As she lays her hands on you seeking to gauge the extent of your depletion Azriel's gaze hardens.

"She's been healing the soldiers, taking their pain onto herself," Azriel explains. His words rushed. His tone laced with both accusation and fear. "She collapsed just now. How could you not know the toll it was taking on her?"

Madja's expression crumbles into one of profound guilt and regret. She meets Azriel's intense gaze with a resigned sorrow. "I knew," she admits. Her voice a whisper of remorse. "I knew, but I thought we could manage it—keep it under control. I feared the implications of her gift being fully exposed. I thought I was protecting her."

Azriel’s anger wanes slightly instead replaced by a sharp pang of understanding. He knows all too well the complexities of hiding one's true capabilities in a world that might not understand or might exploit them. However, his concern for your well-being remains paramount.

"She needs help now, Madja. What can we do?" he asks with his voice softening but still tinged with urgency.

Madja nods. Her focus turning entirely to you. "I can stabilize her for now, but we need to rethink how she uses her gift," she says as she begins to channel her own healing magic into you. A gentle flow designed not to heal but to sustain.

As Madja works Azriel holds you closer. His thoughts racing with concern and resolve. He watches the slight return of warmth to your cheeks under Madja’s skilled care, feeling a blend of relief and determination surge through him. A promise forms in his heart. Not merely to protect you but to truly understand and support your unique gift, no matter the cost.

However, the demands of the ongoing battle pull at him. Madja noticed the conflict in his expression speaks with a calm authority. "She must rest now, Azriel," she advises with her voice steady. "And they need you. The battle isn't over yet."

Reluctantly Azriel nods. The weight of his responsibilities clear on his face. He leans down with his lips brushing your forehead in a gentle kiss. His assurance of returning to you. "I'll be back soon," he promises. His voice a whisper meant only for you. With one last lingering look that conveys all his worry and care he stands and leaves the tent. His figure soon disappearing into the fray.

The war rages on demanding every ounce of Azriel's focus and skill. Yet his thoughts frequently stray back to the medical tent, to you, lying there in recovery. Each moment he can spare he finds himself glancing towards the tent. His mind racing with scenarios of returning to you.

As the last echoes of battle fade and a weary peace begins to settle, Azriel's duties finally allow him a moment to breathe. He wastes no time. The moment he is able he rushes back to the medical tent with his steps quick with urgency and anticipation. Pushing through the tent flaps, Azriel’s eyes immediately seek you out. He finds you awake but visibly exhausted propped up against some pillows. The sight of you, alive and recovering, though still weak floods him with relief.

“I’m here,” Azriel breathes out as he quickly crosses the space to your side before kneeling beside your cot. His hand reaches out brushing a stray lock of hair from your face with a tenderness that belies his warrior's exterior. “How are you feeling?” he asks. His voice low and filled with concern. His eyes scanning your face for any sign of pain or discomfort.

Azriel’s presence instantly eases some of the weight pressing down on you and relief softens your features. "I'm exhausted," you admit but manage a weak smile. "But I'll be alright, just need some rest." Your eyes meet his and even in your weariness there's an undeniable relief that reflects back from his gaze. An unspoken understanding of the solace you both find in each other’s presence after the chaos of battle.

"You had us worried for a while there," Azriel says. His voice a mix of relief and mild reprimand. His eyes scan your face still searching for signs of pain or lingering fatigue. His concern palpable but not overwhelming. "Madja told me you'd recover but seeing it for myself makes all the difference."

Your smile deepens slightly at his words. You were grateful for his concern and the straightforward honesty that always marked your interactions. "I'll be fine, Azriel. Really," you assure him with your tone aiming to put him at ease. "It's good to have you back though."

In the days following the battle, as the camp slowly transitions from a place of urgent healing back to routine operations, your strength begins to return. With each passing day the pain and exhaustion that had once clouded your vision start to fade instead replaced by a growing vigor that Madja assures you is a good sign of recovery. Azriel, true to his word, visits often. His presence a constant reassurance as the camp breaks down around you. The war finally declared over.

Once you're deemed well enough to travel Azriel accompanies you back to Velaris. The journey was facilitated by the magic of winnowing is quick but disorienting. A dramatic shift from the dusty tents and the sharp smells of medicine to the lush, serene beauty of the Night Court. Back in Velaris the city seems to embrace you both with open arms. The familiar sights and sounds of the vibrant city life, the cobblestone streets lit by lanterns and the murmur of the Sidra River, provide a comforting backdrop to your continued recovery.

A few nights after your return, once you feel stronger and more like yourself, Azriel invites you to join him on a balcony overlooking Velaris. The balcony was part of a high vantage point in the House of Wind and offers a breathtaking view of the city spread out beneath a canopy of stars. The transition from the harsh realities of war to this peaceful setting marks a significant shift in your healing process—both physical and emotional.

Seated together on the balcony the atmosphere between you is one of tentative peace. A reprieve from the chaos of the battlefield. The evening air is cool and carrying the gentle scent of night-blooming flowers. There’s a quiet that allows for softer, more intimate conversation. Here with the distance from the front lines you both find the space to reflect on the recent events and the impact they’ve had on each of you discussing thoughts and feelings that the war left little room to explore.

This tranquil setting in Velaris which was far removed from the demands of war allows you both to see each other in a new light. Appreciating the resilience and strength each has shown, and perhaps, beginning to understand the deeper bond that seems to have formed in the crucible of conflict.

Azriel breaks the silence between you with a gentle voice reflecting the calm of the night. "I've been thinking about your healing abilities. About your gift," he says before pausing as if searching for the right way to broach the subject without overstepping. "It's a heavy burden you've carried… taking on others' pain."

You nod appreciating his careful approach. "It can be overwhelming," you admit. Your voice low. Sharing this truth with him feels both vulnerable and relieving. "Especially knowing that each time I heal, I take a little bit of that pain into myself."

The softness of his gaze as he looks at you speaks volumes, and he shifts slightly closer. "Perhaps we can find a way to ease that burden," he suggests. "Explore methods to shield you or at least to share the load." The idea of sharing this part of your life with Azriel, having him understand and perhaps help carry the weight, brings a warmth to your heart. It’s a tentative step towards deeper connection and you find yourself hoping for more.

"And how about us?" Azriel adds after a moment, the question hanging between you like a delicate thread. "These past weeks, feeling everything that you have felt... it’s made me realize how deeply connected I am to you. More than I anticipated." The admission hangs in the air and is charged with an unspoken depth of emotion. You felt it too. The inexplicable pull towards him. Something beyond mere friendship.

You smile a soft, genuine expression that lights up your eyes. "I feel it too," you confess. "It's like there’s something between us, something... more."

The conversation flows more freely now, the initial hesitance giving way to a hopeful exploration of what might be. Neither of you mentions the word 'mates,' still dancing around the full depth of your bond, but there’s an unspoken acknowledgment of the significance of your connection.

As the night deepens between you, you and Azriel make promises. Not grand declarations but quiet vows to support each other. To explore the depth of your bond and understand the extent of your powers together. It's a mutual commitment filled with the promise of discovering not just the mysteries of your abilities but also the potential of what you could be to each other.

With the city of Velaris sparkling below and the tranquil night wrapping around you there’s a sense of beginning. Of possibilities waiting to be explored. Together you watch the stars comforted by the presence of each other and hopeful for the future.

In the quiet of the pre-dawn, you and Azriel linger on the balcony ensconced in the gentle embrace of Velaris' early morning serenity. The sky is a tapestry of deep blues and purples and begins to lighten at the horizon, heralding the dawn. The air around you is charged with the quiet anticipation of the world waking up. A fitting backdrop for the profound moment unfolding between you.

Azriel's gaze remains fixed on the horizon, but his mind is clearly elsewhere—on the revelations of the night, on the words that now hover on the edge of being spoken. Finally, he turns to you with his expression open. He was vulnerable in a way that you've seldom seen from the reserved shadowsinger. "There's something undeniable about the connection between us," he begins. His voice soft, reverent almost. "It goes beyond what we’ve had. Beyond friendship.” You meet his gaze feeling the truth of his words resonate within you. It's a truth you've sensed but haven't dared to define until this moment.

Finally finding the courage to speak what he’s discovered he steps closer making sure to bridge the gap between you. His presence enveloping you in warmth. "I've felt every echo of your pain, every ripple of your joy as if they were my own. It's more than just empathy… it's a bond, a deep, unbreakable bond." His hands find yours. His touch gentle but firm. "I believe we're mates," he says. The words charged with emotion and an unspoken plea for you to feel the same.

Your heart leaps. The simplicity and sincerity of his admission cutting through any lingering doubts. You smile, not just with your lips but with your entire being, accepting the truth of his words and the bond they confirm. "Azriel, I've sensed it as well," you reply with your voice soft yet filled with wonder. "It’s as if there’s been a song woven into the fabric of our days, subtle yet persistent, waiting for us to finally hear it and understand its tune."

Azriel's smile in response is a thing of quiet joy. A uniquely rare and tender sight that stirs something deep within you. He pulls you gently closer and you find yourself wrapped in his embrace. The city around you awakening as the first light of dawn spills over the edges of the world.

In the tranquil embrace of dawn Azriel holds you close. His heart beating a tentative rhythm against yours. His voice carries a rare vulnerability that makes the air around you thrum with the weight of his words. “Do you want that?" he asks softly. His breath warm against your hair. "To always be there for each other. To face whatever this world throws at us, together, as one?"

He pulls back slightly as his hands were still gently cradling your face. His eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. This question isn't merely rhetorical. It's a genuine, open-ended inquiry into your desires. A request for your heart's agreement with his. Azriel's usual certainty is replaced by an endearing, hopeful uncertainty. Highlighting how deeply he values your consent and participation in this burgeoning bond.

You look into his eyes. Into those deep pools of night that have seen so much sorrow and solitude, now laced with tender hope. The dawn casts its first gentle rays illuminating the sincerity and slight apprehension on his face. This moment, this question, isn't just about confirming a bond. It's about choosing to build a future together.

"Yes, Azriel," you respond. Your voice steady and sure, a soft yet resolute affirmation that echoes the depth of your own feelings. "I want that more than anything."

Azriel's response is immediate. His eyes reflecting a profound relief and joy that seem to brighten the very air around him. A broad, genuine smile spreads across his face transforming his usually stoic expression into one of pure elation.

"You've just made me the happiest male in all of Prythian," he breathes out as his voice is rich with emotion. The sincerity in his words resonates deeply echoing the significance of your acceptance.

His arms pull you closer. The warmth of his embrace enveloping you as he whispers, "We'll face everything together, side by side. No matter what comes we won't face it alone."

"Always," you echo back, your voice a soft yet resolute affirmation. The certainty in your agreement strengthens the bond between you weaving your fates together with threads of shared strength and mutual understanding setting a path forward together in the intertwining dance of your shared lives.

Azriel’s smile deepens at your words. His relief and joy palpable. The certainty of your mutual promise solidifies the bond between you weaving your fates together with threads of shared strength and understanding. His hands that still cradling your face shift slightly and his fingers brush tenderly across your lips. A touch so gentle it sends a shiver down your spine.

The intimate gesture holds a world of meaning. As he gazes into your eyes the warmth and intensity of his emotions are clear. He leans in, his breath mingling with yours, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. Then with a tenderness that quickly deepens into something more he pulls you in for a kiss.

What starts as a gentle meeting of lips soon transforms into a kiss filled with passion and longing. As if all the emotions and realizations of the past days and weeks are being poured into this single, breathtaking moment. Azriel’s kiss is both a promise and a declaration, sealing the bond between you with a fervor that leaves you breathless.

Your arms wrap around him pulling him closer responding to the depth of his kiss with equal intensity. The world around you fades away leaving only the two of you entwined in a moment that transcends everything else. As the kiss lingers it becomes clear that this is not just a bond forged in the fires of battle but a connection that will shape your future, side by side, whatever may come.

Request Taglist: @aelinwya @mira-says

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prythianpages · 3 months

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I've Been Waiting For You | Azriel

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

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

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

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

“Who are you?”

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

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

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

Months before…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you specify which one?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

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

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

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

“Have you seen it?”

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

“Perhaps.”

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

“How come I haven’t seen it?”

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

Back to the present…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And who might you be?"

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

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

“Your help?” She echoes.

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me show you.”

Months before…

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

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

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

“You spoil me.”

“It’s what friends do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not ready.”

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

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

“You do not fear me?”

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

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

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

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

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

Your throat tightens. “When?”

“Soon.”

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

“The tracking…I knew of it.”

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

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

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

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Mate. That is your mate. Azriel, the–

“Do you see it now?”

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

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

“Please don’t go,” you’re begging.

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

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

“Anything.”

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

Back to Present

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

“Release her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wake up, sleeping beauty.”

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

“You missed dinner.”

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

"That was two weeks ago.”

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

Your eyes narrow. "Did Feyre send you?"

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

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

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

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

"Why?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now feel the whispers of the unseen.”

“I can’t.” Elain’s eyebrows furrow.

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

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

“Stop!”

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

“I’m not hurting her!”

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

“Are you okay?”

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

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

"Like what?”

“Don’t make me answer that.”

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

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

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

“You’re not going to Starfall?”

“Good morning to you too.”

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

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

“Is everything okay?”

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

So you settle for a, “Why?”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll buy you one.”

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

“Starfall is tomorrow.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Splendid! What’s the special occasion?”

“Starfall.” Azriel answers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It surprises you how quickly you find your voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I li–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s 500 gold marks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So are you.”

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

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

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

“Yes, Azriel. I’ll save you a dance.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Feyre, well aware of the answer, delves further. "You bought her that dress?"

“Yes.”

A mischievous gleam flickers in Feyre's eyes as she delivers her next statement. "You like her."

Azriel's response slips out before he can even grasp the depth of his own admission. "Yes."

He turns to Feyre, his wide eyes betraying the shock of his own revelation. A slight pallor washes over his skin, and Feyre chuckles at his reaction. Sensing the tension in the air, she rests a reassuring arm on his shoulder. “I like her too,” she confesses.

Though, both of them recognize that Azriel's feelings for you run deeper and in more intricate ways than Feyre's own fondness.

“I offered her a place in this court. She said she’d think about it. Maybe you can convince her? The same way you convinced her to come to Starfall,” Feyre says and then with one last pat on his shoulder, she makes her way back toward Rhysand.

Still recovering from the revelation of his own feelings, it takes a while longer for the weight of Feyre’s words to sink in. A mixture of surprise, uncertainty, and a flicker of hope plays out across his features. You weren’t planning on staying? The thought of you leaving–leaving him stirs a feeling in his chest. His eyes seek you out again but you’re no longer standing beside Elain.

In your place, stands Lucien and normally the sight would trigger dark emotions from him. But now? He feels nothing. There’s no sense of envy. His affections have shifted elsewhere.

Azriel’s shadows fall to the floor, slithering against the cool tile like serpents of the night. They lead the way directly to where you stand, by the champagne table. He makes his way toward you and you're downing the rest of the liquid in your glass.

“Azriel.” You smile at him.

“It’s time for you to fulfill the promise you made me.”

“Of course,” you reply, offering him your hand.

Azriel gracefully pulls you into his embrace. One hand wraps around yours while the other rests on your waist. The enchanting melody guides your movements as the two of you glide across the floor.

“Feyre told me she offered you a role in this court.”

Your eyes, wise and mysterious, meet his, and he feels your body tense under his hold. “What else did she tell you?”

“That you’d think about it,” he says, the rhythm of the dance allowing for a moment of ease to settle between you. “You should stay.”

“Why?”

A wistful expression colors your features and the soft glow of stars are reflected in your eyes. The music comes to a gradual end and you free yourself of his hold before the next song begins.

“There’s no one here for me.” You admit and then give a small laugh as you look down. There's a deep, haunting sadness to your laughter, striking a chord within him.

“I’m right here.”

Lifting your head back up, your eyes search his for something with a glimmer of hope. An eternity seems to pass in your gaze. A frown settles over your lips and he feels a tinge of sadness. Whatever you sought, it seems you did not find it.

Suppressing the surge of emotions within him, his hand reaches for yours again. He guides you to somewhere more private, toward one of the balconies that is off limits to the guests. “Talk to me,” he says, his words carrying an invitation for you to unburden your heart.

Your hands grip onto the railing before you and attention is directed up towards the night sky. He mirrors your actions, resting his hands close to yours. So close he can feel your warmth but not close enough to touch.

"It feels weird being here," you sigh deeply. "My mother and I used to sneak out of Hewn City on Starfall just to catch a glimpse of these migrating spirits every year...until she realized what I was. She said I was a curse, said she would turn me into Keir and let him have his way with me if I didn't leave."

Azriel's fingers clench into a white knuckled grip at your words.

"Not that leaving a horrible city such as Hewn was exactly a punishment. It was probably for the best. Still didn't stop me from being scared. It was the first time in my life that I was actually alone. I learned how to survive."

"I met the Suriel a year later. He must've taken pity on me and would visit me without being summoned. Sometimes, it'd be to tease me with some gossip. Other times, to annoy and chide me for my mistakes. Most importantly, he taught me how to not only survive on my own but live alone. I don't know, it's probably silly but I just felt a lot less lonely when I was actually alone than I do here."

“It’s not silly. I used to feel that way too.” Azriel admits and after a moment of silence, he’s turning toward you. “Am I not your friend?”

“I don’t know,” you find yourself saying again, uncertainty clouding your expression. Pausing, you tear your gaze from the night sky to look at him. “Do you want to be?”

“Yes,” Azriel smiles at you. And so much more.

You smile back at him but it doesn’t last long. Turning your head to face directly ahead, you bite the inside of your cheek in hesitation, revealing to Azriel that there’s more troubling you than your sense of loneliness.

“What else?”

“There’s nothing else.”

“y/n.”

“I feel like a failure.”

Azriel's eyes widen, his heart sinking to his stomach. “You’re not,” he reassures quickly.

“I–I just,” you stammer, the weight of self-doubt evident in your voice. “It’s nearing four months since I’ve arrived, and I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface with Elain.”

“How long did it take you to harness your abilities?”

“Decades,” you respond, the admission carrying a hint of sheepishness. “But Elain is different. This is different. I don’t want to disappoint her. Disappoint Feyre. The world we know is crumbling apart, and we don’t have time. If–if we cannot fix it before it’s too late, I will have failed him.”

“Hey, look at me.”

When you don’t, Azriel lightly grips your chin, coaxing your gaze to him. “You’re here, aren’t you? You’re honoring his wish by just being here. Keep trying,” he encourages, wiping away your tears. “I’ll be here with you every step of the way. You’re not alone. We’ll face this together.”

“Together?”

He releases his hold on you, resting his hand once more on the rail. This time, it’s even closer to yours.

“Together,” he confirms, heart swarming with warmth when your hand bridges the gap between you and brushes against his.

And finally, it seems your lonely days are through.

Azriel’s been in love before. Twice. Or at least, he thought it was love. One was unrequited, a silent ache he carried within. The other was forbidden, a love he had clung to with misguided hope. He was beginning to come to the begrudging conclusion that love was simply not meant for him.

Then, you came along. Strange as it seems, you've seemed to have brought back that old feeling to him, awakening something deep inside of him. And though he doesn't know what you did, he thinks--he hopes that you could be the one. The one to possibly release him from the chains of solitude and longing.

You've rarely left his mind since the night he met you. The echoes of your first words to him lingered in his mind long after your encounter, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your voice was cloaked in both mystery and certainty, as though you held the threads of destiny within your grasp. It prompted him to ask who you were but your answer, “that’s for you to decide” only gave rise to more questions.

Then, there was that smile. So beautiful, so hopeful. It etched itself into the recesses of his memory. It was a smile no one had ever bestowed upon him before and one he longed to see it again.

And he almost ruined it all–that day he snapped at you after a session gone wrong with Elain. Your intentions were always pure. He knew this. No one was at fault as everything that transpired between you and Elain was completely consensual. But the scream that tore through Elain sent him in a heightened frenzy. He had sworn to Rhysand and Feyre, his High Lord and High Lady, that he would protect Elain. Before he could properly assess the situation, he had roughly pushed you aside with a growl. The hurt that flashed in your eyes in response haunted him nearly every night.

You began to actively avoid his gaze and presence whenever possible, and guilt gnawed at him relentlessly. Even his shadows, missing your attention, seemed angry with him. Truth be told, he was angry with himself too. You had made friends with everyone. Everyone but him.

The following two weeks became a series of futile attempts at groveling, your obliviousness to it all cutting deeper than he cared to admit. The breaking point came when you missed dinner, and he knew it was time to set things right then. So he sent his shadows to look for you and when they reported back to him that you were sleeping in the library, he brought your dinner to you.

After that moment, the atmosphere between you two shifted. He became the chaser, gradually closing the distance between you.

You looked his way more, approached him with a newfound openness, and your conversations became more frequent. You teased him at times, even, with your cryptic words. But rather than frustrating him, it only made him seek you out more. He wanted to be the one to unravel the mystery that was you.

Somewhere down the line, his eyes stopped searching for Elain's. The private moments he sought with her became mere echoes of the past—no more lingering touches, exchanged glances, or pointless conversations. Instead, it was you who occupied the center of his attention, infiltrating his dreams and igniting desires he never knew he harbored.

You eased him like no other, effortlessly coaxing smiles and laughter from him. It was in these moments that the realization struck him like a bolt of lightning—he had never truly been in love during the first two instances. What he felt for you was different. He was unwilling to let his feelings linger in the shadows, as they had done before. He yearned for them to step into the light. To be acknowledged and acted upon openly.

He decided to wait until after Solstice to confess to you and hoped that your visions wouldn't give him away.

Laughter and clinks of wine glasses ring through the air. Azriel knows it’s time to open presents, his shadows singing loudly and overwhelming him with information. Cassian is sneaking a peak. Rhysand is rolling his eyes. Elain got Lucien a present. y/n is holding back tears.

Azriel tenses at the last bit of information, eyes immediately finding you. You’re seated beside Feyre–the two of you exchanging smiles. There’s an unwrapped present on your lap and his shadows dart toward it. It’s a small portrait of the Suriel. He hears you thank Feyre and he swears he can feel your ache of grief. He moves to stand from his seat but Elain stops him.

“Happy Solstice,” she says, holding out a small present. He takes the box albeit reluctantly but politely and opens it to find two tickets to an upcoming play.

Elain smiles at the frown he’s trying to hide.

"Elain, I can't--"

“Y/n mentioned always wanting to go see a play. I thought maybe you could be the one to take her. After you confess."

His eyes search hers for any traces of hurt. He’s relieved when he finds none but the frown in his brow remains. “How–”

“She trained me well," Elain replies, eyes shining with an all knowing gleam he's seen in yours. "She deserves to be happy. You both do and something tells me that she’s the one you’ve been waiting for.”

Gods, you and Elain have been hanging out so much with one another that now she’s beginning to talk like you. There's a tightening in his chest, like a band about to snap at her words.

Azriel looks back at Elain in question but she only smiles at him once more before retreating back to where she was sitting previously. Next to Lucien, who also sends a smile his way.

Looking down at the tickets, he thinks of you again. His shadows stir, mirroring the strange sensation in his chest. It’s almost like a pull and his shadows guide him toward it, turning his head for him. Just in time to catch a glimpse of you quietly slipping away from the festivities. His steps quicken as he follows you, pulling his coat along with him.

The soft flakes of snow flutter down, a delicate dance in the winter night. Despite weeks of continuous snowfall, the enchanting beauty of it never fails to captivate you. It differs markedly from the unforgiving snowstorms you endured while wandering the Night Court's forests. Though just as cold, it prompts an involuntary shiver, a reaction to the biting chill in the air.

As the door behind you creaks open, a rush of warmth accompanies its movement. The scent of cedar invades your senses, growing more intense as you feel a fabric drape over your shoulders, bringing forth an intimate warmth.

"Hey," Azriel breathes, a visible puff of white escaping his lips.

"Hi," you smile back at him, your fingers instinctively reaching for the coat that draped over your shoulders. You can't help but notice the thin sweater he wears. "Won't you be cold, though?"

Azriel stops you, securing his coat back onto your smaller frame with a reassuring smile. “I grew up in a camp where it snowed a lot more than this. I’ll be fine.”

You look back up at the night sky. The stars are shining so bright. It makes you wonder if they ever tire. They seem to answer you as their radiant beams cast a celestial glow upon you. Your vision blurs in surrender.

“What are you seeing?” Azriel inquires, curious. He hopes it's not the confession he's aching to spill.

Your eyebrows knit together, and you close your eyes, immersing yourself in deciphering the messages woven between the stars. Upon opening your eyes, you turn to Azriel, a teasing smirk playing on your lips.

“You're going to get frostbite."

Azriel lets out an amused huff. "I don't care. As long as you're warm."

"We should head back inside," you suggest.

"No," Azriel insists, enfolding a wing around your form, anchoring you in place. His shadows can sense you don't want to go back inside yet. "I like being alone with you."

The wind nips at your cheeks, a sensation you welcome as it gives the perfect excuse for the blush creeping across your face. Tearing your gaze away from Azriel before he can discern his effect on you, you quietly share, "Nyx is going to say his first word in three days."

Azriel leans forward and you can feel his anticipation. A familial bet circulates among his uncles and aunts (save for Elain) regarding what the young heir’s first word will be. “What is it?”

“Cas.”

Azriel can't resist glancing back toward the house, his eyes narrowing with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. There, he catches a fleeting glimpse of Cassian playfully hoisting Nyx in the air, the two engaged in a lively game of chase around the living room. When he turns his attention back to you, mischief twinkles in your eyes.

“You’re lying.”

“You fell for it."

And that smile he’s been longing for since he met you graces your lips as you laugh. A sweet and beautiful sound that warms the winter air. Azriel's gaze dips toward your lips, captivated by the sound, before lifting back to meet your eyes. He leans in even closer.

“I fell for you.”

You also lean in, eyes never leaving his. "The answer is yes."

"What?"

Azriel nearly stumbles back, caught off guard, but you remain close, lifting a hand and cradling his cheek. It's surprisingly warm and he instinctively leans into your touch. His eyes widen. Did you—

“To you taking me on a date,” you reveal, your smile deepening, and he swears his shadows snicker in response. “The vision I just saw. It was of me and you at a theater. Next Friday at seven.”

“Next Friday at seven,” Azriel confirms, a tender affection lighting up his expression.

The air seems to shimmer with the promise of an enchanting future. You reach out, tugging at the bond in your chest. Once again, there is only silence. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to care anymore. Not when Azriel is gazing at you as though you are the very stars illuminating the night sky.

And then you're kissing him.

The snow crunches underfoot as Azriel moves, his usually keen senses dulled. His mind is elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of you. Even as the icy missiles fly past him, Azriel remains lost in the memories of shared glances and smiles and the way your lips felt so perfect against his last night.

For the first time in years, Azriel finds himself on the losing side of the annual snowball fight. Oddly, no disappointment lingers, even after meticulous planning for this anticipated victory. All he wants is to return home—to you.

Amidst the snowy chaos, revelation strikes him simultaneously with a snowball from Rhysand. The snap, the bond—everything falls into place. It all makes sense now. Your words when you first met. Elain’s words last night at Solstice. Why your presence thrilled and delighted him. Why he couldn't shake the feeling of love and adoration for you.

You are his mate.

The one he had been longing and pleading for, and the realization left him breathless. He shakes the snow from his face and Rhysand blinks back at him in surprise. The High Lord had been expecting a glare but he only finds pure shock on Azriel’s face.

“Oh come on, I didn’t hit you that hard,” he teases.

“I have to go.”

“If you leave, you’re forfeiting,” warns Cassian, but the glint in his eye betrays a desire for Azriel to leave, eager for a victory.

“I yield,” Azriel says mindlessly, surprising even Rhysand. Feeling his friend's talons probing his mind, Azriel throws up his shields and disappears into his shadows, abandoning the snow-covered battlefield. He'll explain later.

For now, he has to find you.

His shadows winnow him back to the River house and he doesn’t have to look for long because there you are, making your way down the last step and standing in his path. There’s not much that surprises you but that has changed since meeting Azriel and this moment is no different. Your eyes are widening, mouth parting.

“Azriel," you say. "What are you doing here? I thought you were–”

“It’s you,” Azriel interrupts breathlessly as if he was running, chest rising and falling quickly in step with the erratic beating of his heart. He’s bridging the distance between you. “All this time. It’s been you.”

You swallow thickly. “You know?”

The glimmer of hope that had ignited during Starfall returns to your eyes, revealing a world he hadn’t realized existed. How could he have been so blind?

Azriel smiles at you and it’s as if that’s the last piece to the puzzle as the bond between you both comes to life, singing loudly against your chests. He pulls you flush against him and spins you around, eliciting a delightful squeal from you. Cradling your face in his hands, he kisses your forehead, then the corners of your eyes. He saves your lips for last, lingering in the sweet taste of them for a moment longer.

“You’re my mate,” he says quietly, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Yes,” you manage to whisper back, surrendering yourself to the depths of his mesmerizing hazel eyes, just like in the vision from months ago. And it’s not you who speaks again but Azriel.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

a/n: hope you all enjoyed this (: It took me longer to write than I thought because i'm used to writing more angst for Az than fluff but I wanted this to be different. It's canon that Elain found out that reader and Az were mates through a vision around the same time she decided to give Lucien a chance. I just want them all to be happy ♡ in terms of my ABBA x ACOTAR series, I think I'll work on another one for Cas next inspired by Honey, Honey. If you'd like to be tagged, just let me know!

tagging: @hellodarling1357

if you want to read more about Az x Seer reader, I wrote a couple of bonus scenes that didn't quite make the final cut. You can read them here.

#azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #acotar imagine #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel fluff #azriel angst #azriel fanfic #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #abba x acotar

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assassinsblade · 4 months

Text

Arrows and Ashes

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

WC: 4.7k

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

Part 2

—————————————

Drip. Drip. Drip.

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

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

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

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

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

You might not make it out of here.

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

Azriel. You wondered what he was doing right now.

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

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

"Cassian..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were alive. You were strong.

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

“I’m sorry, Daisy,” Cassian cried.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You thought you heard Cassian retching.

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

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

But everything ached and stung.

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

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

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

And then you were going in and out of darkness.

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

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

You’d hear glimpses.

You make one wrong touch and you’re dead.

Big threats from a bedridden brute.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eris…” Cassian warned, his tone threatening.

“Do you want her to live?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was hacked and burnt and damaged and-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What the hell did you do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did it look as bad as it felt?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They wanted Nyx,” you croaked.

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

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

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

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

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

But you didn't.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Keep her awake.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now you were just tired. So so tired.

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

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

Azriel was here. You were safe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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ladylokilaufeyson5 · 2 months

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Rhys: You look gorgeous, Y/n

Y/n: You're not even looking at me

Rhys: I know, but Azriel's heart just started beating faster

Azriel:

Y/n:

Azriel: Fuck you

#azriel x you #x reader #acotar azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #azriel #rhysand #rhysand x reader #incorrect rhysand quotes #incorrect azriel quotes #incorrect acotar quotes #acotar

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pellucid-constellations · 5 months

Text

Of Oblivious Minds

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

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

Word count: 2.5k

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

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

Part 2

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

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

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

You wanted to kick yourself for not noticing before.

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

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

“And what’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe we would.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had to be in love with her.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go, sweetheart.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m always stoic. Adds to my charm.”

“Liar.”

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

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

“No, I don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

“If you say so,” Cassian hummed.

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

The following days were… strange to say the least.

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

And she spoke of Azriel. A lot.

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

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

You were so, so right.

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

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

Well, other than Elain.

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

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

Boring texts were the leading cause of nosiness.

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

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

“Perhaps. I was thinking of asking Azriel.”

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

That was new.

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

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

So why did it suddenly feel so different?

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

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

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

Something about it felt… wrong.

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

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

“What does that—”

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

You shuddered at the thought.

This couldn't be an attack on Velaris.

Elain called your name. You answered with wide eyes.

“Get under the tables!”

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

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

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

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

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

“By the cauldron, that was unexpected.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you hurt?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh. No. Not as bad.”

“And how is everyone else?”

“I’m not sure.”

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

“Are you okay?” you asked instead.

“I am now.”

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

Maybe being right wasn’t what you wanted anymore.

But maybe that wasn’t your decision to make.

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

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florencemtrash · 14 days

Text

He Feels Safe With You — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel's sleeping habits begin to worry you, but after a conversation with Cassian, you realize you've misinterpreted the entire situation.

Warnings: Major fluff. Like tooth-rotting sweetness. Sleepy Az.

Author's note: I should be sleeping because I have work tomorrow but instead I've chosen to write this oneshot and I have no regrets.

It was starting to become a problem now.

You cocked your head to the side, cradling a cup of tea in your hands and watching Azriel as he continued to sleep soundly in your bed. You had the windows cracked open and the early Autumn breeze swirled indoors with the scent of lavender, bergamot, and the strawberry jam you’d slathered over your toast. You checked the time once again on the glossy marble clock face. The arrow-shaped hour hand clicked ever closer to 11am, the minute hand close to overtaking its competitor.

10:55am and Azriel was still asleep.

The sheets clustered loose and low around his waist, mimicking the curling of his shadows up and down the ridges of his spine and across the delicate membrane of his wings. His wings hung loose and relaxed, stretching off the edges of your bed and caressing the floor with a lover’s touch. You blushed at the sight. When you and Azriel had first started courting each other three years ago, you’d thought through the mechanics of housing an Illyrian warrior in your bed — should you buy a new bed frame and mattress? Did you even have space for it in your apartment? The answer had been no to both, and yet Azriel loved when your daytime activities ended here instead of at the townhouse. If he cared about having to walk sideways to avoid the bookshelves in the halls or having to crouch to avoid the overhang above the staircase, he didn’t mention it.

Three hours ago you’d woken up beneath the gentle weight of his wings, untangled yourself from Azriel’s greedy limbs, and crept down the stairs to your kitchen, bleary eyed but well rested. But that was three hours ago! Since then you’d brushed your teeth, washed your face, and eaten breakfast, and still the Shadowsinger hadn’t stirred. You were beginning to question whether he truly was the Spymaster of the Night Court as you sat in your velvet chair and admired your lover. You traced all the subtle movements of his body as he muddled through dreams you could only wonder at — the creasing of his brow, the slack line of his lips as he breathed, the twitching of his fingertips as he reached for some phantom object.

The clock struck eleven and you sighed, gathering your plates but leaving Azriel’s pile of toast, butter, and honey alone. You also left the teapot and its mismatched cup, blowing magic over its lid in a silent command to keep its contents hot until Azriel awoke.

“I’ll be down in the shop,” you whispered to his shadows, trusting that they would relay the message when their master finally decided to grace the daytime with his presence.

One by one, shadows slipped off Azriel’s skin, curling around your ankles and wrists in a silent plea to stay. You shook them off like one might a needy child, promising you’d only be two floors down.

The artists’ corner in Velaris was an eclectic array of compact townhouses, each outwardly dressed in their unique, dazzling finery. Your townhouse was squished between a painting studio and a luthier’s. The painting studio’s owner seemed intent on changing the color of the wooden sidings every other day and the drawings scribbled over the windows every other week. Today it was periwinkle blue to match the hydrangeas overflowing from the window boxes.

You nodded in approval as you flipped the apothecary sign over from “Much apologies, please try another time” to “You’ve caught us! We’re open!” The blue would match your tulip yellow sidings and the clean white accents of the luthier’s. Last week it had been red and that had looked gods-awful.

You busied yourself in the shop, crushing up lavender and herbs and boiling mugwort in fire-stained glassware in between flurries of customers until the medicinal stench in the air grew thick and strong. You were used to it by now. It smelled clean. Like home.

You were finishing tying up a bundle of teabags when Cassian came in carrying a sturdy wooden box under one arm like it weighed five pounds instead of fifty. You snapped out the wrinkles of a cloth bag, dropping the teabags and five vials of sleep serum for the nightingale-winged nymph in front of you.

“Four feathers and three strands of hair, as we bargained for,” you said, sliding the bag across the counter.

The nymph nodded in approval, extending out a wing and shoving her fingers into the pillowy softness. She tested for loose feathers ready to pull.

“You’re a godsend, Y/n, has anyone ever told you that?” She pulled out three feathers, closed her wing, and started testing the feathers on the other side. “Finnigan’s was asking me for ten. Ten! Can you believe that? If I hadn’t found you in time I’d have been reduced to a plucked chicken.” She was much less precious about her mousey brown hair and yanked out three strands at random. “Oops, you get an extra strand today,” she sang, dropping the feathers and hair into the jars you held out.

“Well it’s a good thing you found me then, Moricka.”

“Honestly! I understand he’s got a large studio space he’s renting in the thick of the Palace, and even I will admit the ambiance is rather professional—”

Cassian raised his brow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his scarred lips as he continued to stand motionless in the doorway. It was true your space was more… homey than Finnigan’s, but your expertise shined in intimate spaces. You liked the control and the familiarity that came from running a smaller business and you wouldn’t give it up for the world.

“But I do think the success is getting to his head. You both studied under Lady Madja so I don’t see why—”

You nodded absentmindedly. It was always like this with Moricka. The songbird in her made it difficult for her to stop talking, but at least her voice was pleasant.

She threw her hands up in the air before finally catching wind of another presence in the room. Cassian waved at her with a wink and an orange blush creeped onto her full cheeks. He tended to have that effect on fae with his towering size and the wild beauty of his chiseled jaw and smattering of scars over his cheeks and brow.

“Oh… oh dear, I didn’t realize you had another customer. Oh my goodness I’ve been talking your ear off all this time and you’ve been too kind to say anything. You’re a godsend, Y/n. A godsend! I don’t know what I would do without you, although I should really be letting you go now.” She grabbed her things and sidestepped the range of Cassian’s wings, trying and failing now to gawk. “I’ll see you soon enough again I’m sure.”

“I’ll be here.” You sighed in relief when the doorbell rang behind her petite frame, the inoffensive smile you offered all your customers sliding off your face like oil on water. Cassian chuckled, dropping the box onto the countertop with a dull thud.

“Long day?”

You pulled out a stepstool and began rummaging around through the box, pulling out jars of squid ink, bark trimmings, buttons, and one particularly nasty jar containing a large eye suspended in yellow goo. “It’s not even three.”

“Did I stutter?”

You tapped the glass and the eye swiveled around to look at you, pupil enlarging and constricting with a stutter. “Yes, yes very good,” you muttered your praise and Cassian fought hard not to shiver. He had a stomach for a great many things, but some of the specimens you handled tested his resilience.

“Thank you for bringing all of this. You’ve saved me a great deal of trouble.”

“Perhaps you could do the same for me and tell me where my brother is? I’ve been looking for him all day.” Cassian leaned forward on the counter, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Are you holding him hostage, Y/n? Are you using your feminine powers to bring the poor male to his knees? I must admit, I didn’t imagine you as the kind capable of kidnapping. Or shadow-napping, shall we say?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m hardly holding him hostage.” You gestured down the hallway past the bookshelves and the cases of empty glassware where the light from the staircase glowed like an iron eye. “He’s upstairs sleeping.”

Cassian furrowed his brows, stepping around and past you. He kept his wings tucked closer to his shoulder blades, careful not to upset the cramped organization you maintained in your shop.

He smirked. “Still? Are you sure you didn't work your feminine powers last night?”

You glanced out the store window. A few fae lingered outside the coffee shop across the street clutching takeaway boxes against their chest as they chatted and sipped their drinks. The street was otherwise empty. For now, you wouldn’t have to deal with any customers.

You looked back at Cassian. “I actually wanted to ask you about that.”

His brows furrowed. “About feminine powers?” He'd meant that as a joke.

“Gods, Cassian let that go.” You wrung your hands. “I wanted to ask if Azriel was alright? Has he seemed… normal to you?”

“I don’t know, has he?” Cassian lowered his voice, sinking into one of the stools by the clear glass medicine cabinet. “From what I can tell he seems well. Happy.”

Although happy was an understatement. Ever since you’d stumbled into their lives with Madja’s accolades and your wry humor, Azriel had been a goner. You’d pulled emotions from him as deftly as a spinster with a pile of wool, reduced him to a reverential, lovesick mess, and imbued his existence with a color not even Feyre could mix up. Which made it all the more confusing why you looked so nervous.

“You’ve seen more of him than I have, Y/n.” Cassian said. He braced his elbows against his knees, turning serious. The faint bags under his hazel eyes hinted at sleepless nights spent fussing over Neera. It was their fault really, any daughter of Nesta and Cassian was destined to be restless and particular.

“He just… he’s been sleeping more. Falling into bed early, but waking up late. Sometimes we’ll be reading together or just existing side by side and when I turn to face him, he’s dead asleep on the couch.”

Cassian’s lips twitched, slowly stretching into a smile. You plucked a hemp bag off one of the wall shelves at random, tossing its contents into a mortar and beginning to grind just so you could have something to do with your hands.

“At first I brushed it off, but it’s gotten to a point where I’ll be talking to him — mindless things, but regardless — and I’ll catch him dozing off. He’s always very apologetic after but I…” The mortar and pestle clattered to a stop. “I worry that he’s growing bored of me. Or that he’s sick in a way I can’t help.”

“Y/n.” There was a smile in Cassian’s voice, and indeed when you looked at him, his teeth were glistening in the soft afternoon haze. His eyes shined knowingly, as if the answer were obvious.

You paused. “Yes?”

“He feels safe with you.”

You blinked once. Twice.

“Pardon?”

Cassian tipped back in his seat, knocking his head against the cabinet with a rattle of jars and glass as he laughed. “He’s sleeping so much because he feels safe with you. It’s probably why he prefers to spend time here instead of at the townhouse and why he’s still dead asleep while we’re sitting here gossiping about him. Three years ago you couldn’t even whisper his name in a crowded room without him appearing from the shadows as if summoned.”

You felt heat rise in your cheeks. “Oh... I see.”

Cassian was grinning. “Y/n, I promise you he’s not bored of you. Azriel sleeping is a good thing. The gods know he could use more rest. I think he might be the worst of us when it comes to taking care of ourselves.”

Something about Cassian’s words had a crack splintering in your chest. You knew about his past. You knew of the horrors burned into the ruined skin of his hands and the weight his duties deposited on his shoulders.

And here you’d been worried over him sleeping past noon.

Shadows slipped down the stairs, pooling around your feet in a neat circle and kissing the exposed skin of your ankles. Azriel followed closely behind, still wearing his rumpled hair and pants and a shirt he’d hastily shoved his neck and arms into. He hadn’t even buttoned up the slits below his wings, opting to let the fabric swing free and loose and expose flashes of skin as he walked.

He jutted his chin out in acknowledgement of Cassian and then folded himself over your back, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and dropping his face into the crook of your neck where he breathed in the scent of lemon and lavender and medicine.

“You weren’t there when I woke up,” he said, frowning. There was a slur to his words.

“It’s past three, brother.”

Azriel snapped his head up in surprise, squinting at the window and the afternoon sunlight streaking in. The pale cobblestones shone like they’d been drenched in honey.

“What?”

Cassian rolled his eyes, patting Azriel’s back fondly and mussing up your hair before walking towards the door. He flipped the sign from “You’ve caught us! We’re open!” to “Much apologies, please try another time.”

“Goodnight, you two!" He called from over his back. "Remember we’re meeting at Rhys’s for dinner tonight.” He turned, bracing his arms against the top of the doorway and leaning forward like he meant to share a secret. “8pm sharp. Don’t be too late or we’ll get the wrong idea about what you two are up to.” He winked, then whistled down the street, letting the door close on its own behind him.

Azriel sighed, going back to nuzzling his face in your neck. He peppered the sensitive skin there with kisses.

“Will you be coming back upstairs then?” He murmured hopefully. "Now that you're finished with work?"

You bit your lip and decided rather quickly that the world would not end because you closed a few hours early.

You led him up the stairs, past the kitchen and living room on the second floor, and then up to the third floor — your bedroom. The window was still open, the hustle and bustle of the city and the smell of coffee from across the street wafting in. Steam no longer poured from the lip of the teapot, so you knew Azriel had had something to drink, and where you’d left toast on his plate this morning lay only crumbs.

Azriel dropped to his knees, untying your laces and helping you out of your boots. Then he straightened and tugged at the belt loops of your trousers, silently asking for permission before unbuttoning them and sliding them off your legs. Your shirt, then his shirt, and then his trousers joined the pile of crumpled clothing on the floor.

He gently pushed you back onto the bed, falling face first after you with a sigh. This was his favorite position to sleep in — you comfortable on your back and him laying with his hips slotted in between your legs and his head resting over your heart.

You sank your fingers into his velvety, black hair. His hums of satisfaction flowed through your body, lighting every nerve with a comforting buzz.

“Azriel?” You asked him, before sleep could finally claim him once more.

“Hmmm?”

“Do you feel safe with me?”

He pressed his face further into the soft flesh of your chest, bringing his arms up and around your waist before allowing his wings to do the same. The thin membranes glowed red as hot coals, blocking out the most offensive rays of light from outside.

“When I am with you, I forget that I was ever that boy whose hands got burned. When I am with you, the hundreds of years I spent feeling alone and worthless in this world melt away into nothing. When I am with you — when I am in this place that smells and feels so strongly of you — I can imagine a future that is good and pure and perfect.” He sighed deeply, seemingly ignorant to the pounding of your heart and the waves of feeling flooding your system. “So yes, my love — my Y/n — I do feel safe with you.”

“I feel safe with you too,” you murmured. “I love you, Azriel.”

You kissed the crown of his head, earning one last smile and a slurred, “I love you, Y/n,” before his jaw went slack and the room went silent save for the mixing of your breaths and the stirring of shadows.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #fluff #azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #sleepy azriel is the best azriel #i swear i just need a man who wants to sleep with me all hours of the day and is a living furnace #is that too much to ask?

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