#*azriel thought exercise | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

illyrianbitch · 3 months ago

Text

Breathe

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel has a panic attack. You help him through it.

Warnings: panic attack pov, symptoms of anxiety (heavy breathing, dissociation, bad mean internal narration), lots of talks of fear, breathing exercises, comfort/care

Word Count: 3.6k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Azriel didn’t notice it at first— not really.

But his shadows did.

They curled in close, drawn silent and taut, as if bracing for something, getting ready to soothe him like a newborn babe.

It always started quiet. Or, it used to, when it happened more often. Like pressure building— something soft at first, something creeping.

Azriel shifted in his seat at the end of the table, half in shadow as he often was.

He blinked once. Twice.

He realized, rather quickly, that he was too warm.

Not the kind of warm that settled into your bones on a sunny day. Not comfort. No, this was the kind of warmth that crawled across his skin. Under it. Sticky, stifling. His leathers suddenly felt too tight, like his chest couldn’t fully expand.

He shifted again, pushing himself to focus on Rhysand’s voice once more. On the words his brother, his High Lord, was speaking.

Nothing was wrong. Not really. He was seated where he always sat, in the same chair, in the same meeting room, listening to the same details about the same rotations and intelligence reports. Nothing was out of place. Everything was all as doomed, as dismal, and as hopeless as it had been recently.

They were losing a war. And Azriel knew it.

The conversation turned toward intelligence failures– intercepted reports, broken leads.

Azriel couldn’t stop his thoughts from growing louder. Faster. Those were another failure on him. On his abilities, his spies. He’d fucked up. Again, and again. The one thing he was good at, the one thing he was supposed to do— and he couldn’t.

No, no. Stop. He couldn’t afford to think like that. He’d been doing better. Azriel, deep in his rational mind, knew it wasn’t his fault. Not entirely, at least. Koschei was unpredictable. His devoted followers hadn’t been something anyone could’ve predicted — Children of the Blessed who had found another ruler to worship. Another god to bow to. That wasn’t on him.

But it was… wasn’t it? It felt like a failure.

His shadows stilled around him, began calling to him in the way only they could. But Azriel couldn’t pay attention. His mouth was dry now. His hands were cold.

And there was something curling in his chest. A pressure. A discomfort. A wrongness inside him, like something off-center. He was sure of it. A flaw, like some thread pulled too tight.

Az tried to anchor himself. Tried to focus on the sound of his brother’s voices, the crinkle of paper beneath his hand. But his thoughts were racing ahead — spiraling.

The room was too loud.

He gripped the edge of the table. Attempted to draw in a deep breath. When it resisted, when his lungs protested against the strain of his ribs— broken many times before, he opted for flexing his fingers. Uncurled them. Tried to breathe through it once more.

This was pathetic, Az thought bitterly, the sharpness of his own anger swallowing up all other thoughts. The soft voice that tried to tell him he wasn’t to blame for everything was drowned out. It sounded so much like a younger version of himself. And something else, too— a voice that sounded awfully like his mother.

Azriel had been fine this morning. Hadn’t he?

So why, now, was he in such pain? Why was his throat tight? Why couldn’t he breathe?

He needed to breathe.

None of this was real. It was all in his head. It would pass.

He was fine, he repeated in his mind, even as his wings twitched– betraying him before he could catch them. A subtle flex at first, a slight stiffening in his membrane. Defensive, instinctual.

He tucked them in closer to his back, as if he could subconsciously make himself smaller, less visible.

He was losing it. Gods, he was losing it and he couldn’t even stand without drawing attention—without someone noticing, without Rhys or Cassian giving him that look.

His wings spasmed again—this time sharper, a visible shudder that raced down the spine between them. Panic, the primal kind, began to bleed into the edges of his breathing.

Not real. Not real. He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached.

He barely noticed when Rhysand’s voice faded into nothing, when the world outside of his own body dulled to a low hum. His vision blurred, not outwardly—no, that would’ve been merciful—but inside his mind. Thought tangled over thought until all that remained was one screaming, splintered thing: move.

Azriel refused to give in to that weaker, fearful side. He refused.

So, instead, he forced himself to lift his head– to act like he was still present. He gripped the edge of the table harder, forcing another breath through lungs that refused to expand. He forced his body to stay still even as every part of him screamed to run.

His eyes caught yours immediately.

You weren’t speaking. You hadn’t been speaking for a while—Az realized dimly that you’d fallen silent when he had.

You were staring at him, a brow furrowed in confusion, eyes darkened with worry. Real, devastating worry— written across your face like you’d felt his unraveling in your bones, like you knew exactly what he was fighting.

You always did that, Az thought briefly. Noticed things. Noticed him. Even when he tried to disappear, buried himself in shadows and distance and the anger only he knew how to hone, you still saw him.

And you were another thing he’d fucked up. Another thing, another person, he’d failed.

His panic hit him like a punch to the chest.

A wild, churning thing inside him lurched loose—sharp and wrong and too much.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think.

Not here. Not now.

Azriel tried to push to his feet smoothly, tried not to let the room tilt sideways around him. The scrape of his chair on the floor was deafening. His wings flared slightly behind him — a startled, instinctive reaction — before he forced them down again with trembling effort.

He didn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Couldn’t.

He just needed to get out. Get out.

By the time he stumbled into the hallway, the panic was a roaring thing in his chest. His wings kept twitching, muscles seizing like they couldn’t decide whether to shield or flee. His shadows seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat, gathering in dark, frantic swirls at his feet, then dissipating and flickering against the walls, like they were trying—desperately—to anchor themselves, to pull him out of the fear gripping him.

The world narrowed to the thud of his boots and the pain in his chest. He was shaking now — his hands, his arms, his breath. He couldn’t get a full inhale. He couldn’t slow down. His mind was spiraling. He didn’t know where he was going.

Get out. Just get out. Get out get out get out.

He reached the end of the corridor, but his vision was still tunneling. He staggered sideways, shoulder slamming into the wall. They were getting closer. Tighter.

Get out.

He needed air. Real air.

Needed out.

He winnowed. All instinct, like a broken wild animal on the run from something it knew it couldn’t beat. And then—he landed. He didn’t even know where he was going until the cold hit him.

Dirt. Grass. Night air.

He fell to his knees in it.

Hard.

It knocked the breath out of him. He doubled over, fingers clawing into the earth. Trying to ground. Trying to focus. Trying to breathe.

Stupid. Stupid. This doesn’t happen. You’re fine. You’re not a child.

But he couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t stop the rising panic clawing up his throat.

You’re a joke. You’re unraveling. You’re slipping and they’re going to see. You’re a liability. A fucking mess. You’re going to ruin everything—

He shouldn’t have been like this — he’d trained for worse, he’d handled worse. His shadows crowded him, trying to ground him, to pull him back, just as they did when he was three hundred and covered in blood. Twenty-two and angry. Eight and afraid.

It didn't work. They were just more noise. The pressure behind Azriel’s ribs sharpened. His skin itched. He couldn't tell if it was sweat or fear crawling over him.

A cold wind rushed over his skin, sudden and powerful. And for a second—just a second—it grounded him.

Then the panic surged again. Harder.

His fingernails dug further into dirt, the movement straining and pulling at the tight skin at his hands, the raw tendons and everything that was wrong with him.

He couldn’t fucking see anything. Couldn’t focus. Azriel was sure his heart was breaking itself against his ribs. He pressed his forehead to the ground, desperate to disappear into it. The skin between his shoulders was buzzing, crawling with invisible ants. The old, familiar impulse to tear his way free, to snap bone and tendon if it meant getting out—getting away—scratching out the thing inside him he couldn't reach.

Somewhere, deep in the marrow of him, the boy he'd once been was crying. Somewhere, even deeper, the soldier he'd become was roaring at him to stay still, stay quiet, get over it.

Azriel was vaguely aware of the wetness on his cheeks. Of a choked gasp that sounded too much like him. His shadows were scared now, concerned, louder as if they were trying to be louder than the voice in his head. But it was no use.

His body was too small and the panic was too big.

And then—

A sound. A shape.

His name, maybe.

But it didn’t sound right. Didn't sound like anything.

It felt, almost, as if Az was trying to hear underwater— trying to breathe it in and choke.

He jerked away from the voice, instinctual. He didn't want to be seen. Not like this.

But then it came again. Warm. Gentle. Familiar. His shadows darted towards it.

“Azriel?”

And for the first time, he felt it. Felt you.

His eyes blinked open—wild, unfocused—but the world began to sharpen.

Not all at once. Not clearly, at least. But enough. Enough to see you there, from the corner of his eye, approaching him slowly, breath white in the cold air.

He squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head, and pressed his palms flatter against the earth. His wings half-flared without permission.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

It wasn’t working.

You’re weak. You’re not enough.

Your failures are going to get them all killed. Koschei. Koschei. Koschei. What if he kills them all?

A flutter of heat brushed against his shoulder. He briefly registered the movement, somehow coherent enough to piece together the fact that you were crouching beside him. He could only imagine how pathetic he looked, a warrior, a spy— a feared male brought to his knees by his own damaged mind.

For one harrowing moment, he wanted to snarl at you. To bare his teeth and tell you to go where you’re needed, to leave him alone— Because he didn’t want your pity. He didn’t want your help. He didn’t want to admit that he needed it. If he admitted it now, so vulnerable and exposed in front of you— embarrassingly so— you’d realize, for a second time, he wasn’t worth it.

But he would never do that. He didn’t want to push you away again.

A wave of shame hit him flat in the chest—flooding his system. Azriel forced his wings against his back until the muscles screamed. He gave a tight shake of his head, managed to say between jagged breaths, "I'm fine. Go home."

Your hand hovered at his back, near his wings. Gently pressed. He was shaking.

He turned his face away. “Please.”

“Azriel,” you said again. Closer.

Something crumbled in him when his shadows returned to his wrists, floating in soothing circles. He squeezed his eyes shut. Breathe. He just needed to breathe. Count, like his mother always taught him to. Trace the patterns of his shadows.

But gods, it wasn’t working.

“I can’t,” Azriel rasped. His voice was barely there.

A few seconds later, your hand was on his cheek, thumb brushing his jaw. You tilted his face toward yours.

“I’m right here,” you said. Your eyes were wide. Pleading, almost. Like he was lost and you were begging for him to find you again.

And he would, wouldn't he? Find you, that was. In every lifetime.

He blinked. It didn’t feel real. He didn’t deserve this tender touch.

“Az, can you look at me?”

“I can’t—I can’t—”

“Can’t what?”

You reached up, brushing a hand through the strands of his hair at the front — a soft, slow rake of your fingers like you were trying to soothe him back to himself. The touch startled him. His eyes opened wider, found yours again, even as his chest still heaved with shallow, broken breaths.

“I’m—” he sucked in a breath, but it hitched, harsh and shallow. “I’m not okay. I’m— I’m scared and I don’t know what I’m doing and I can’t keep pretending—”

He was unraveling. Words spilling out of him like blood from a wound.

“I’m not enough. I’m not—stable. I can’t help with Koschei. I can’t find anything. People are dying. I’m letting everyone down and—fuck—” he squeezed his eyes shut. “I can’t breathe—”

You shifted without hesitation, lowering yourself to your knees before him, so you could meet him at eye level. Gently, delicately, you reached for one of his hands — still clawed into the dirt like an animal — and began to uncurl his fingers from the earth. He shifted his position with the movement.

He blinked again at the sensation, disoriented, his brows furrowing as you guided his hand up and placed it over your chest. Over your heart. And covered it with your own.

“Feel that?” you whispered, taking an exaggerated deep breath. His hand rose with the motion. “All that air coming into my lungs. It’s really nice, Az. Refreshing. Don’t you think?”

He nodded. Or thought he did. It was hard to tell where his body was.

“I want you to breathe with me. Can you do that?”

He swallowed hard. His lungs still fought him. But he would try. Gods, for you — he would always try.

You inhaled again, slow and deep, and he followed — or tried to. Again. And again. Until something in his lungs finally loosened, like a muscle unclenching.

He closed his eyes.

The panic didn’t vanish. But it ebbed. Enough to come back into his body. Enough to feel the weight of the earth, the throb of his heart. The gentleness in your touch. His wings gradually relaxed. His other hand stopped trembling against the grass.

When he opened his eyes, he found yours already waiting.

And for the first time in what felt like hours, he could see you. Not through panic. Just… you.

His hand twitched under yours. You interlaced your fingers, pressing his palm against your skin even firmer. Finally, Azriel took a deep breath. A proper one. Felt the refreshing night air fill his lungs.

And when you smiled — soft and aching and full of something he couldn’t name — he felt the last of the panic slip out of his bones.

He realized, with excruciating clarity, exactly where he was now. Realized that he was touching you. That you were so close. That somehow, impossibly, despite everything he’d ruined, you were here.

He almost forgot to breathe again.

You shifted your free hand up slightly, brushing it back through his hair — a tender, absentminded thing, like it was instinct for you now.

“There we go,” you said softly. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Azriel took advantage of his proximity to take you in— the curve of your mouth, the way the moonlight caught the shine of your hair. How close you were to him, how real it felt. It was almost enough to make him believe he had died after all— that this was some kind of fragile heaven he wasn’t meant to keep, a dream created by a brain deprived of oxygen.

He let out a breath. His body went lax, sinking into the earth. Into you.

You glanced back at him again, your hand still in his hair, and for a moment, neither of you moved. He studied your face like he could memorize it all over again — the faint crease between your brows, the tremble you were trying to hide in your jaw, the way your eyes softened when you caught him looking.

Something inside him cracked open wider.

His gaze dropped to your lips. Then to your eyes. And then his gaze dropped once more, landing on where his hand still rested over your heart, your smaller one covering his. Without thinking, Azriel brushed his thumb across your skin. A slow, reverent sweep. He felt it immediately— the sudden, sharp skip of your heartbeat under his hand.

“Your heart,” Azriel whispered, “It’s...beating really fast.”

You let out a small breath, almost a laugh. “Yeah,” you murmured, giving him a sheepish, crooked little smile.

“Why?”

Azriel swore he caught the faintest tint of pink at your cheeks.

“It tends to do that around you.”

Something inside him stumbled, caught on a beat he didn’t recognize. "Oh," he breathed out.

A few moments passed. And then, slowly, you shifted — separating just enough to ease down beside him. Azriel mourned the loss of your touch, of his hand on your skin. He settled into a similar position, watching as you tucked your knees to your chest and rested your head lightly atop them.

The silence that followed felt easy. Comforting. Azriel was grateful for it, despite his longing to touch you again. His breaths, now more regular, were still slowly coming back to him.

You turned to look at him, your cheek pressed against your knees. “What happened, Az?”

Azriel squeezed his eyes shut. Shook his head once, almost imperceptibly.

Out of everyone, you were the only one he'd ever truly opened up to about these episodes. These small attacks — flashes of terror, of helplessness — they'd started creeping back after the second war against Hybern. A strange, ugly pattern.

He hated them. Hated the way they made him feel: weak, broken, like he was still the trembling boy locked away in a lightless cell. But he’d been doing better. He had been. And now — this — it felt like a step backward. Like a fall from a cliff he'd barely managed to climb. He felt like a failure. Like a burden.

“I…I don’t know. I just…”

He looked at you then. Really looked. At the way your eyes urged him to go on. And somehow, his thoughts came easier. More honest.

The truth was — Azriel had spent most of his life benefiting from the image of someone fearless. The cold, steady blade in the dark. The one who didn’t flinch.

But Azriel was afraid all the time.

He moved through his fear like a second skin — worked off it, thrived off it. Fear of losing someone. Fear of being weak again. Fear of being proven wrong. Fear of being left behind. It sat in him like something feral, something sharp-toothed and restless, always on the edge of recognition.

He knew fear the way an animal knew the shift of the wind before a storm.

And lately, it was starting to take more than it gave.

He hated it. Hated that for all the years he'd spent learning to master it, it still had the power to master him.

“I hate this,” Azriel said finally. Barely audible. “I hate that I can’t control this panic. That it’s still in me. That I freeze. When I’m needed most.”

“You’re not frozen now,” you said. “You came back.”

He shook his head. “I’m supposed to protect people. I’m supposed to keep our court safe. That’s what I’m for. If I can’t do that... if I’m just afraid…then what am I?”

“You’re still you. Even when you’re afraid. Especially then.”

Azriel closed his eyes for a moment. Nodded, just barely. “I think you’re the only one who thinks that.”

“The fearless don't win wars, Az. They just die faster. The ones who love... the ones who are afraid — they're the ones who survive. They're the ones who save people."

He blinked, like you’d struck him, and a wave of relief ran through his body. Azriel let out a rough breath — almost a laugh. “Since when did you get so philosophical?”

You shrugged, a faint smile tugging at your mouth. “I used to date this guy…”

He arched his brow and you tilted your head, pretending to think. “Taught me a few things about war. About fear. About how important it is to find people worth being afraid for.”

Azriel’s mouth twitched upwards. “Sounds like a piece of work.”

You breathed a soft laugh and the quiet stretched again. He ran his fingers idly through a blade of grass, taking in the calm night surrounding him.

“How did you know where I went?” Az asked.

Your arms were wrapped around your knees, chin resting on them, eyes tracing his shadows dancing along the grass. “I made a lucky guess.”

“Well… thank you," he said, his heart glowing. "For finding me.”

You glanced at him, your eyes softening as you replied, “Always.”

Then you tucked your chin back onto your knees, looking up at the sky again. The stars spun lazy arcs overhead. Azriel watched you instead— for a few indulgent moments, at least.

Eventually, Azriel’s gaze drifted from you, scanning the patch of grass beneath you both. A soft smile tugged at his lips as the memory surfaced—of the first time he kissed you—here, in this exact spot.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

authors note: posting this randomly as i am...crawling...slowly....from the grave.... where uninspired writers.... and my abandoned wips.... go to rot...

as a girl who has suffered w panic attacks my whole life (thank u traumatic events!) i would rather die than have someone like...kiss me for example, but i cannot tell u how intimate those moments are after someone sees you so vulnerable and theyre just like so...casual abt it? so i simply had to write a lil something, idk anyways enjoy this random lazy ass work <3 onto my series i go!!!!

fun fact.... this is actually a scrapped scene from one of my drafted series (anatomy of dependence), that full exes to lovers, second chance romance, best friends to luvers goodnesssss!!!!

permanent tag list 🫶🏻 (im going to revamp this soon, so if you wanna stay on it, let me know!!)

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon @glam-targaryen

@cheneyq @darkbloodsly @yesiamthatwierd @azrielsbbg @evergreenlark

@marina468 @azriels-human @book-obsessed124 @bubybubsters @starswholistenanddreamsanswered

@feyretopia @azrielrot @justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna

@anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound @melissat1254 @secretsicanthideanymore

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire

@angel-graces-world-of-chaos @acoazlove @paradisebabey @inkedinshadows @mellowmusings

@paankhaleyaaar @curiosandcourioser @thisrandombitch @casiiopea2 @w0nderw0manly

@rottenroyalebooks @jurdanpotter @casiiopea2 @gamarancianne @weesablackbeak

@booksaremyescapeworld @knoxic @wynintheclouds @dacrethehalls @louisa-harrier

#azriel x reader #azriel #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader angst #azriel x reader fluff #azriel angst #azriel fluff #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #acotar #acotar fanfic #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction

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azrielbrainrot · 10 months ago

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An Exercise in Patience

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Cockwarming

Description: Your plan to bother Azriel while he's working fails, or maybe it doesn't.

Warnings: Smut, cockwarming, implied vaginal sex, slight dom/sub dynamics, kinda bratty reader, actually kind of fluffy

Word Count: ~1,3k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

You sigh for what feels like the millionth time, unashamedly acting like a petulant child who hadn't gotten her way, pouting against Azriel's shoulder as you felt his chest rise and fall against yours.

“I'm not sure what you expected was going to happen when you walked in this room wearing that, my love.”

“I expected my mate to bend me over his desk and fuck me.”

The disinterested yet somehow amused hum he offers makes you let out a huff of your own, straightening your posture so you aren't leaning on him anymore and can meet his eyes, trying to ignore the way his cock is filling you oh so deliciously, and only goes deeper with the change in position. If he wants to act unaffected, you'll do the same.

“Rhys needs these reports ready by tomorrow morning for his meeting with the High Lords,” he starts explaining, the sounds of his pen scratching against the paper the only sound in the room as he pauses, reading carefully through the pages, choosing the documents over you even now, “I told you all of this already.”

The way he was reading over your shoulder, not even meeting your eyes as he talked or acknowledging the fact that you were barely wearing any clothes at all, the sheer black lace not truly covering anything, was annoying you more than it probably should have.

It's not your fault you can't be patient when it comes to your mate. Not when he looks like a wet dream personified, especially when he focuses on something as he is now. It's also not your fault Rhys suddenly had a meeting the day after you bought such a beautiful set for Azriel to rip off of you and ruined all your plans.

It's not like you didn't understand how important his work was, but he had shut you down too easily, simply sitting you on his cock and going back to writing his report like it was the most normal thing, like the way his mate was dripping and clenching around him didn't matter. It was especially vexing since you could barely form a single thought, his scent and warmth making the bond want to jump through your skin, lay him down over the desk and ride him until you were shaking on top of him.

“I can almost hear your thoughts,” he says, a hint of amusement breaking through the serious tone he put on earlier.

“Has Rhysand been teaching you new tricks?”

Your tone makes him pause, hazel eyes shifting to yours for just a second before returning to the task at hand. He doesn't say anything, but he wraps one arm around your back, pulling you in closer, making you wrap your own arms around his neck, hugging him to you once again, humming when you relax a bit against him, annoyance fizzling out in his arms. Your body was a traitor, and he knew its every little secret.

One thing you wouldn't admit is how impressed you were that you had been able to fit him all the way inside you so quickly and with barely any preparation, it usually takes you a bit of stimulation to be able to get to this point, not that either of you mind the need for some foreplay.

Unfortunately, these thoughts led to memories of how well he fucked you just about every day and every night, this morning even, on the bed, in the bathtub, on this stupid desk, and up against the wall. Another defeated sigh escapes your lips, your cunt clenching around his hard cock involuntarily.

“You know if I was a little more insecure I'd find it insulting that you can keep working while I'm sitting on your cock,” you mumble, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

“I was trained to not let anything distract me,” he answers matter-of-factly.

Your teeth find the skin of his neck before you could stop yourself, biting hard enough to leave the imprint of your teeth on the soft skin, his body tensing under yours - apparently he wasn't immune to every type of distraction.

Feeling bad for him, or just wanting to see what other reactions you could get out of the stoic spymaster, you lick over the mark, kissing and sucking on the skin until a deep red spot bloomed under your mouth. Sadly, it still doesn't keep him away from the papers, only giving you the satisfaction of feeling him tense up against you a couple times.

“Didn't know you could be so mean either.”

“Mean?” His voice sounded deeper, maybe your little plan was working better than you assumed. “I think I'm being quite generous, letting you warm my cock when it's the opposite of helpful while I have work to do.”

“Then why can't I move?” You grind into him softly, a harsh breath escaping him at the movement, it brings a triumphant smile to your lips even if his shadows rush to stop you from repeating the motion.

“Because you need to learn how to be patient.”

“So this is my punishment?”

“We can call it that if it makes you feel better.” It doesn't, not at all. “Now hush, the sooner I finish the reports on my desk, the sooner I can bend you over it.”

“Azriel,” you whine yet again.

“I'm almost done,” he shushes you softly again.

You watch his face for a moment longer, debating whether to try your luck or wait patiently like he asked you to, but a quick glance from him has your body making the decision for you, leaning back down against his strong body, waiting quietly, and mostly still.

With a hand falling over the back of his neck, you pet him softly, fingers combing through the curls on the nape of his neck, just how you know he likes, feeling him relax under you immediately. Azriel wouldn't let you move too much, but you could at least do this. You start dropping little kisses all over his neck, starting by his ear and moving down until you find the fabric of his shirt, unbuttoning it so you could tug at his collar and reach as much of his soft, unmarked skin as you could.

“What are you doing?”

His voice startles you, pulling back to meet his eyes, you had gotten so focused on covering every little bit of skin that you almost forgot he was even there. He did look a bit less in control than before as half lidded hazel eyes stared back at you, and you can't help the smile from spreading over your face at that, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

“Kissing my mate,” you answer, lips brushing against his skin as you did, his stubble tickling your lips, “or are you going to tell me I can't do that either.”

“That would be cruel,” he breathes out, eyes locking on your lips when you pull back just enough.

“It would,” you say, dropping a quick peck to his lips before kissing his other cheek, traveling down his jaw. “Don't mind me, you can keep working.”

“I already finished the reports.”

“What?”

“I'm done,” he says one more time, the smile growing as you look behind you to find the files neatly arranged and ready to be delivered to your High Lord.

“You're done,” you repeat dumbly.

Azriel lets out a chuckle and nods. “I'm all yours.”

“All mine?”

He hums in response, finally kissing you properly, his scarred hands traveling down your body, caressing the exposed skin at last, moving down to hold onto your thighs. Suddenly, every bit of calmness and patience leaves your body, the feeling of his hard cock sitting inside you the only thing you can think about once again.

You're both out of breath when he pulls away, the same hunger that has been eating away at your sanity present in his eyes as he lets go of all his self control.

“How do you want me, my love?”

#azriel x reader #azriel smut #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #azriel fic #acotar x reader #acotar smut #acotar kinktober #my writing #faves

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coquettefrancaise · 4 months ago

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the boy is mine

by Brandy, Monica

pair: Azriel x reader ~ 3k

warnings: lewd thoughts, a punch, self-deprecation, down bad shadowsinger

summary: only one person existed in Azriel's eye and it was you

author's note: this is the continuation of rock 'n' roll star! it’s more of an ‘az appreciating/adoring his mate’ story more than anything else lol this feels so all over the place but it felt...right

It was no secret that the Shadowsinger had a mate.

While he had been discreet about the past females he had taken to bed, when he met you, it was as if he suddenly enjoyed having someone to show off.

Something about your little quirks and the way you looked at him had him head over heels in no time.

Like how you hated peeling oranges because the skin dug under your nails and your fingers tended to smell like citrus the rest of the day. Or how you worried over the birds that he accidentally ran into mid-flight. Or-

"I need to think of some way to thank Mor."

Azriel was startled out of his reverie at the sound of your husky voice. He peered down at you where you rested, tucked into his side, fingers tracing the Illyrian tattoos etched onto his skin, warm from slumber.

You both enjoyed spending the mornings this way: waking up twenty minutes before he left for training, and either chatting and cuddling or getting some pre-exercise in.

It was his favorite part of the day. To wake you up with gentle kisses and then hold you close as you absorbed each other's warmth. You always opened your eyes with a pout, stretching your limbs while making precious noises before seeking to press as much of your skin against his.

And when it was time for him to head out, you'd snuggle into his side of the bed, intent on catching more rest. It was a struggle for Azriel to leave you but he knew Cassian would kick his ass if he wasn't in the training ring by dawn.

He had attempted to get you into joining but you quickly found that Valkyrie training hadn't been something you enjoyed. Instead, you preferred doing some pilates or yoga, intent on still toning your body but not by performing excruciating workouts. Preferably after the sunrise too.

"Why?" he asked, rubbing a hand over your arm.

You looked up at him under your lashes, softly illuminated by the dim twilight that crept through the lace curtains, finger climbing up his neck to twist the earring he wore. "Because she's an absolute gods-send and deserves the biggest fruit basket ever made."

Ah. He understood it now.

He didn't know what came over you after he acquired that particular accessory, but he couldn't say he was entirely put off by it. He was entirely put on by it, if anything.

Suddenly, your hands were always on him, whether it be fiddling with his ear, or roaming over his hard muscles, they were always on him.

Not to mention that you had become possessive, glaring at the people who dared a look at Azriel, twice once cursing out a female who had flirted with him.

And clocking one in the face.

You'd been interested in taking painting lessons by Feyre for a while now. Azriel knew how much you enjoyed finding new hobbies. First, it had been pottery, then archery, and now art. The first two had resulted in exploding ceramics and a nearly impaled foot but this one should be safer. Right?

Azriel leaned against the doorframe of the studio, admiring your hunched over form as you worked at your easel, tongue sticking out of your mouth in concentration, brow knitted deeply. He'd have to rub the tense lines out when you were finished to prevent a headache.

He had just returned from a fortnight-long mission in the human lands and arrived to Valeris not even ten minutes ago. He had refused to go home first thing, knowing you wouldn't be there.

It hadn't taken Azriel long to realize that he loathed being wherever you weren't.

His shadows clung to his leathers as he felt all the attention zero in on him. Don't get him wrong; he was used to being stared at but he rarely drew attention intentionally.

Even though most of the room's occupants were intent on Azriel, you and Feyre, who was up front, babbling on about shading, were oblivious to his presence.

He ignored everything else in favor of watching you. It took all that was in him not to walk to where you sat, pull you up into his arms, and take in your body being with his at last.

Cauldron. How had he managed being away from you for two weeks?

At last, the class wrapped up and everyone began washing their brushes, capping their paints, and gathering their belongings, brushing past Azriel on their way out with giggles and batted lahes.

Azriel watched as Feyre walked to where you still sat, pointing at the details of your art with a nod of consideration.

When there was only one fellow student straggling behind, Azriel pushed off the doorframe and strode to you, hand brushing along your bare shoulder in greeting.

Your eyes shot up to where he stood and in no time at all, your arms wrapped around his neck. He chuckled softly, pulling you tighter into his embrace as he took a deep breath of your skin.

"Missed you, baby," he sighed into your ear before pressing a kiss to the skin underneath. "How was class?"

You answered with a hum.

"When'd you get back?"

He opened his eyes to look at Feyre, who was grinning from ear to ear. "About twenty minutes ago."

"You know, Rhys always complains about how you go home to your mate first then write up your report."

Even though her words were meant to be a scold, her eyes shone with understanding.

"He's going to have to deal with it."

You detached yourself from Azriel, much to his dismay, but kept a hand looped around the small of his back and one on his stomach. "I usually have to feed this big guy as soon as he steps foot in Valeris so he doesn't tear off any heads."

Feyre's face scrunched in distaste. "I'd rather not hear about your bedroom activities b-"

Your face turned an adorable shade of red as you interrupted with, "Gods, Feyre! Not what I meant! At all!"

Azriel barely contained his smirk. "That's exactly what she meant."

You rolled your eyes and stepped out of his reach. "Both of you are impossible." You complained as you went about cleaning up your area.

Despite being easily flustered, you were in no way or form a prude. You climbed him like a tree every second you could.

"Could you step up onto the platform for me, Az?"

Azriel snapped out of staring at your ass as you bent over to retrieve a fallen paintbrush. "Hmm?"

Feyre gestured to the lifted platform in the middle of the room.

He hesitated, kissing his teeth before obeying. She was his high lady after all.

She then walked around him, finger tapping her chin as if in deep concentration. Azriel squinted, unused to the harsh glare of lights pointed directly at him. From the few times he'd observed the class, Feyre used this pedestal for the objects her students painted. Were it a bowl of fruit or a model.

Feyre continued to study him with a sharp eye before saying, "I've been thinking of offering a figure study course and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind being the muse?"

Before he could ask what the hell a study figure course was, a strong hand gripped at his arm. You stood at his side- when did you get there? -a murderous glint in your eye. "No way!" you hissed.

Feyre opened her mouth to argue but Azriel intervened with, "First off, what is a study figure course?"

Feyre huffed, "It's a nude anatomy class."

Out of all the things, that was the last thing he thought of.

Your fingers dug deeper into his leathers, bringing him out of his surprise. You were obviously worried- rightly so -that'd he'd accept. He could tell as much by the worry pulsating down the bond, and tight features.

Azriel considered pulling your leg a little but decided against it when an unbidden image flashed in his mind.

There you stood, in a room full of males, clad in nothing but a silk robe, standing on the platform, lights illuminating your exposed skin in a pants-tightening manner. You wore a seductive smile, breasts accentuated by the tie underneath and nipples poking through the nearly see-through fabric.

The males were perched on the edge of their stools, white-knuckled grasps on their art supplies as they hungrily watched you untie your robe. The scant fabric slid off your shoulders until it hit the floor with barely a whisper.

"So?"

Azriel kept his face composed, a lot calmer than he felt inside. "I'm alright, but thank you, Feyre."

He heard the sigh of relief you emitted.

"It was worth a try." Feyre shrugged. "Cassian will be ecstatic to know the position is all his."

"He'll be thrilled." He agreed, leading you out of the room to head home where he could remind himself that you were nobody's but his.

As soon as you both stepped foot outside, Azriel felt his tense shoulders drop, the fresh air clearing his mind of murdering males of his own fabrication.

"For what it's worth, you would have made a hot muse."

The straggling student stepped out from behind Azriel, finger twirling around her hair as she perused him with appreciative eyes.

It seemed that she had overheard the conversation then.

He was going to brush her off politely, but just as Azriel blinked, a fist flew into the female's face, causing her to stumble back with a pained cry.

Holy shit.

Azriel's head whipped down to you, who was rubbing your tender knuckles with a sneer.

You shook with barely contained rage as you spat, "Scram before you have to pay for a nose job." Azriel felt his blood rush south at your display of dominance.

Without further prompting, she fled into the night, hand cupping her bleeding nose.

The streetlights illuminated your scowl ."Don't even think about chastising me ab-"

Your snarky words were cut off by his mouth pursuing yours. He pushed you up against the nearby brick wall, hand cupping the back of your head to take the brunt of the impact.

His tongue swept past your lips, tracing the letters of his name on the roof of your mouth. That action spurred you into moaning, grinding yourself against the knee he slotted between your legs.

You pulled away abruptly, voice thick with arousal. "What in the cauldron?"

Azriel laughed softly, "I've never seen you so violent before, baby."

"Did it turn you on?" your lips curved in a wicked smile.

He brought your hand to his crotch, letting you feel his hardness.

Judging by the heaviness of your eyes and the heat emanating from your body, he'd say you were turned on as well.

"You know I'll never let another female see my body, don't you?" his breath caught in his throat when you squeezed.

"You're mine."

He guessed this was the end of your exploration of the arts.

With how obsessed he had always been with you, it was nice to have it reciprocated. And he only said that because you managed to be a little more subtle with your affections towards him. It was daunting, you had once told him, to be mated to one of the most dangerous males in history, especially in public.

"You really like the earring, huh, baby?"

"I absolutely love it on you," you teased your nails across his abs, causing them to tense. "I love everything about you."

"Especially my body."

"Why do you say that?"

He laughed through his nose at the defensiveness that laced your tone. "You're always ogling me."

You clicked your tongue, "Gods forbid a female has hobbies."

Sweat-dotted, sinewy muscles bulged every time he straightened out of his crunches. Abs tightening with short, controlled breaths.

You were beginning to feel faint with awe-

Azriel couldn't help but falter in his workout at your projected thoughts.

A shadow snickered in his ear that you hadn't taken your eyes off him since the moment he brought you to the training ring.

He'd been unable to sleep, tossing and turning relentlessly, until he decided to sweat off his insomnia. Having felt his shifting off the bed, you begged to join him.

Now, twenty minutes later, he was finishing his warm-up and amused at your open side of the bond.

"Come over here a sec," he sat up, panting softly.

You stood in front of him, arms wrapped around your waist as you waited for him to speak again. He took a moment to admire the cool breeze shifting your tousled hair and the hem of your robe.

"Lay down, baby."

"What?"

"Listen to me," his voice brokered no room for complaints or refusals. "and lay down. Or do I have to-"

You situated yourself along the mat before he could finish his sentence.

"Good girl."

He hovered above you, hands pinned above your shoulders, toes beneath yours. One of the things he appreciated about being nearly two times your size, was that he could dominate you in any position.

"You've behaved well today, haven't you?"

You nodded eagerly.

He lowered himself down into a push-up and pecked your lips, causing you to giggle.

He continued the process, laughing himself at your excited wriggling.

"I saw myself through your eyes earlier and I have to admit that you've done wonderful for yourself, choosing me to spend the rest of your life with."

"Someone's cocky," you puckered your lips when he went down again. "But now you see what I have to compete for everyday."

"Compete?" he moved to sit on his knees, watching you in confusion.

You sat up as well, biting at the inside of your cheek. "Yes, all of Prythian knows you're my mate and husband. But do they keep their hands and eyes to themselves? Ha!"

Azriel never thought twice about anyone other than you, so he didn't know why you were feeling so insecure about his attention. He'd rather carve out his eyes with Truth-Teller than look at anyone else.

He crushed you to his chest, uncaring that you were being smothered in his sweat.

Apparently, neither did you, seeing as you nudged your nose into the space between his pecs. He thought he'd been fairly vocal about his adoration for you. Every morning began and every evening ended with his proclaimed love for you.

No matter. He would reassure you every second of the day if it meant he could keep those deprecating thoughts out of your mind.

He said against the crown of your head, "There is no competition. You're the one I choose every single time."

You melted in his embrace.

"Would I have pierced my damn ear for anybody else?"

You giggled into his chest.

"I'd get a damn tramp stamp if you so much as hinted at it, baby."

"You really love me."

"Why do you sound so surprised? Have I not done a thorough job of showing my love for the past decade?" doubts began creeping into his mind and he-

A warm hand cupped his cheek, and you brushed your thumb over his lips. "There's nothing you've done to make me think otherwise; it's just me"

He kissed the pad of your thumb, feeling his heart swell with all the overwhelming love he carried for you. "And I wouldn't wish you to be anyone else."

He grabbed a handful of your ass, hauling you up to straddle him, "I would never begrudge you your peeping Tom hobbies, baby. You know I keep this body hard for you."

You huffed an ironic laugh, "Not because you're one of the only Carynthian's and right-hand male to the high lord?"

He shook his head. "Just. For. You."

Azriel took a moment to admire you. He didn't mind that you refused to get rid of his tatty-old t-shirt you used as a nightshirt. Not when you paired it with a pair of panties and nothing else.

"You're telling me you spent five-hundred plus years training and working out just for me? The mate you didn't even know you had? Who wasn't even born until centuries later?"

Cheeky female.

"Somewhere, deep down in my old, decrepit heart, a fire had been kindling. I had no clue where it came from nor how it continued to stoke. All I knew was that it meant something wonderful and glorious. I spent my days burying myself in my work; killing evil people and reporting to Rhysand. Every night spent with a random fae left me feeling lonelier and empty. Until I saw the most beautiful female in all of the world.

"She had this glow about her, this unwavering kindness, that drew me in. So I offered to purchase her ice cream and thus began my understanding of that long-forgotten fire. Every moment I spent with you, building the relationship I knew was about to be my everything, helped the flames burn brighter. I felt alive, something I never thought possible considering the blood on my hands.

"And now, that female turned out to be my mate and I knew I would do anything—anything—to keep her safe. To ensure that she was happy. So, to answer your absolutely ridiculous question, yes. I have built this body, and this soul, for you."

You tilted your head, silver lining your eyes, as you took him in, completely, and willingly, at your mercy. "You could have just said yes."

He chuckled, flipping you over so he laid on top of you, "Do you understand now why I do everything I have for you?"

A tear slid down your cheek and he kissed it away.

"Because you give me meaning, baby."

Your lips met in a slow kiss, conveying the words and emotions too difficult to speak aloud. Azriel breathed you in like one would fresh air. As if he needed you to survive. And you met him in the middle, giving him all he looked for.

After a couple of minutes, before Cassian would come to collect Azriel's sorry ass, you said against Azriel's lips, "Does this mean you'll help me with that fruit basket?"

"I'll find the biggest, juiciest fruit for that fucking basket."

divider credit: cafekitsune

#too many thoughts crammed in one post but idc #acotar fandom #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger

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deansimagination · 1 month ago

Text

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Warning: NSFW, cunnilingus, somnophilia

Summary: reader has recently started training but has started to have some crazy dreams about Az. Unbeknownst to reader, she is pushing her dreams into Azriel’s because she’s his mate. He does not have self control to say the least to deny her what she wants.

Recently, you had been having very vivid dreams. Vivid in the sense that you had been waking up feeling disoriented and like everything that happened in your sleep had actually occurred in real life. Especially the sensations. You felt everything, smelled everything, tasted everything. It wasn’t that your dreams were particularly dull prior to this new development, but they had never made you feel such things.

It seemed to have started a couple weeks ago. You had been working with Rhysand and the inner circle as an emissary between the Night Courts and the other courts in Prythian for a few decades now. Although you had been living with them for quite some time, you had never quite taken to any sort of training. However, when Nesta approached you a few weeks ago and asked if you would like to join her and the other priestesses, you gave her a reluctant “Sure….”

You really liked Nesta, and wanted to support her in her pursuit of doing something meaningful for these women, and for herself. You could see that her plans were already having a positive effect on her experience here in the Night Court, and they were healing some part of herself that you knew needed attention. So, although you felt that training had absolutely no pertinence to your job, you wanted to support a friend.

Which brings you to the start of this whole mess.

~2 weeks ago~

You had arrived 20 minutes early to the training ground, mostly due to pure nerves. Nesta helped you obtain some Illyrian leathers, which she promised would be comfortable to train in. She lied, because although they kept you warm as you stood outside, they did feel a pretty tight.

You didn’t want to just stand around as you waited for everyone to arrive, so you just started stretching your muscles. It had been quite awhile since you invested any real time in developing your physique, but at least you knew to stretch before doing anything extraneous. You thought this training might be good, just in case one day push came to shove you could at least defend yourself. However, you hadn’t really exercised because you were busy with court relations and were always traveling, and you also happened to love your body…. A lot. If there was one think you knew, it was that you were always confident in yourself, mind and body, which helped in all your work endeavors.

Now you weren’t so sure. You felt completely out of your element. This isn’t something you could maneuver yourself out of with your quick wit or an intelligent argument. You had to face this head on. As your anxiety was getting ready to fester, you were pulled out of your thoughts by a cool dark wisp brushing your ankles and wrists, which you quickly recognized as Azriels shadows. You turned your body around to see where he was, only to find him watching you with his arms crossed.

“Nice of you to join us” he smirked at the end of his sentence, almost sounding amused. You and Azriel had a good relationship, although you didn’t get to spend much time with him due to your travels. You did like him though, you guys had a similar sense of humor, liked a lot of the same books, could have very interesting discussions, and you both seemed to have a similar competitive streak.

“I thought it was finally time that I learn how to kick your ass physically since I’m getting tired of cards” you said as you crossed your arm, giving him a little raise of your brow.

“I think you’re in for a rude awakening, Sweetheart. I’m not sure you’ll ever be able to kick my ass… Physically of course, ” Azriel smiled as he took a few steps closer to you “you’re here early.”

“I was eager to start learning” you lied. He did not need to know about your nerves, although you guessed that his shadows had already alerted him of your fast heart beat and sweat gathering in your palms. He was about to say something when you heard a group of voices approaching, thankfully saving you from whatever embarrassing thing he was about to say.

Cassian, Nesta, and a fairly big group of her new trainees came into view. You were excited for these women but scared for yourself, so you prayed to the Mother that you would give yourself the same encouragement you were inclined to give total strangers.

(A Few Hours Later)

You were panting and sweating like you had been running for years. You had not expected the intensity that the morning held. You started with some strength building exercises, then moved on to some simple fighting movements. Azriel and Cassian had decided to do a simple demonstration for the group. But, as the sun had risen, the temperature increased significantly, which led to Cassian and Azriel shedding their leathers. Although you were trying to focus on the hand and foot movements of the two males in front of you, your eyes kept drifting to the sculpted chest of Azriel. You had never looked at Az in that way, although you found him very attractive. But now you couldn’t help how your eyes hungrily trailed the sweat beading from his neck, down his chest, quickly falling down a sculpted v into his leathers. Your mouth had suddenly run dry, and you licked your lips, very distracted by the sight in front of you. And, your distraction was apparently very noticeable.

“Y/N, I’ve been saying your name for a few seconds now. Seems like something has gotten your attention” Nesta quirked her lips, amusement clear in her eyes.

“No no… I’m just focused on the, um, lesson” you could feel the blush heating your cheats. Great, even you didn’t believe that horseshit.

“Well, I’m sorry to distract you since the demonstration is over. I just wanted to ask how you’re liking the training” Nesta asked, thankfully letting your little ogle session go.

“I like it, and it seems like I need it. It’s very challenging, which I thought I would hate but I actually enjoy” you told her truthfully. She gave you a genuine smile and fully faced you.

“I’m so glad! So you’ll continue coming” she stated, not leaving room for argument. You just smiled and nodded, happy that she seemed happy. Nesta looked over your shoulder, smirking to herself and quickly told you she’d see you later. You were about to reach for her when you heard a very recognizable deep voice.

“So, are you ready to kick my ass?” Azriel mused, challenge dancing in his eyes. He was still shirtless, his tattoos proving to easily (very easily) distract you for a second. This didn’t go unnoticed, as you looked back into Azriels eyes, and found them zeroed in on you.

“One day Shadowsinger” you tried to remain cool, but again felt heat on your face. You quickly turned around and rushed away from the training ground.

~Present~

Which brings you to now, and your vivid dreams. After feeling some sort of way toward Azriel during training, you were having some intense dreams about him, which only seemed to get worse as you continued to go to training.

In the last two weeks, you went to training every single day. You continued getting stronger and developing your skill, but when you were training you always had lingering thoughts of Azriel. You could always feel his eyes burning into you as he watched your train, sometimes coming to correct your form and give you advice. When he did correct your form, he would place his hands on you, which would almost always cause you to take a sharp intake of breath. It was like he was sending electricity through your veins every time he did it. And why did he always have to be shirtless? You’re sure he knows what he’s doing, but you would never confront him about it.

Your attraction for him was growing more and more, which was causing your dreams to be relentless. The first few nights has been innocent enough. Kindof. You were dreaming of him training you, shirtless of course, one-on-one. He was always so close to you, you could feel the warmth of his skin as he demonstrated what to do. You could smell cedar and mist and salt as he would step into your space.

That was the innocent start.

When he had started to correct your form and breathe his suggestions far too close to your ear, the dreams took a turn. In the dreams, he was still training you, but now he was getting closer and more confident. When he would correct your form, he would come up behind you and change the position of your arms. His hands would linger, slowly drifting down your sides down to your hips, where he would tighten his grip, then let go. When he would give you advice, he would come up behind you, his lips brushing over your ear as he whispered to you, his hand resting on your torso just under your breasts, holding your body securely to his. Your breath would hitch and you would turn your face away from his voice, giving him access. He would dip his head and run his nose along the crane of your neck, surely smelling the not so subtle shift in your scent. He would begin peppering kisses to your sensitive skin as his hand would begin to travel south.

He would make quick work with the ties on your leathers, and his hands would drift into the fabric of your pants. He would push your panties to the side and feel exactly how excited he was making you feel.

“You’re so wet sweetheart.” He would state.

“Azriel please” you would breathe out, to which he always responded, “Tell me exactly what you want to me to do to you.”

But you always woke up after that.

Azriels POV

Y/N coming to training was proving to be an incredibly difficult feat. Although I enjoyed spending time with her when she was back home from her emissary trips, it made keeping my little secret hard.

In all honesty, the bond had snapped for me several months ago. Although I had always felt an attraction to her, I was shocked when the golden thread laced my soul to hers, but just because I didn’t feel like Id had enough time with her. We always enjoyed each others company; she made me laugh and always drove me crazy when we would get into little debates, card games, or anything that had to do with competition. She had a fire in her eyes that I’m sure mirrored my own, her competitive nature always drawing me in like a moth to a flame.

Now that she was training, my self control was beginning to become loose. I had to see her moving about the training ground in her tight leathers, which did everything for her figure. And when I saw she needed correction, I had to be the one to do the correcting. I could not bother to think about anyone else putting their hands on her body.

Seeing her at training, however, was not the most difficult part. It was her dreams. She had no idea of the bond that was connecting us to one another, so she had no idea that she was pushing her dreams into my own every night. I knew they weren’t my own, they were always from her point of view, and they started immediately after our first training when I had seen her hooded eyes after seeing Cassian and I demonstrate.

She made waking up extremely difficult, I never wanted to leave her dreams. Where I was confident and she wanted me openly. Especially hearing her call my name, feeling her skin beneath my fingers, the scent of her breaching my senses. She is so perfect, and I want her so badly. Although I struggle with letting her find this golden thread in her own time, I pray to the Mother that she never stops training. I only get to feel her when I sleep, but the temporary bliss is worth the disorientation when I wake up.

We had successfully gotten through another day of training, which had involved some one on on time with Y/N. I was teaching her new moves and sparring with her, but I noticed she was pulling her punches.

“Stop pulling your punches Y/N” I instructed. She scoffed and shook her head, but the next punch she threw was, again, pulled. I quickly grabbed both her wrists and pulled her swiftly into my space. She looked startled and placed her hands on my chest out of reflex. She was glaring into my eyes as I looked down at her, but I only smirked.

“If you want to kick my ass one day, I need you to put your strength into your swings.” Her chest was rising and falling rapidly as she looked from eyes to my lips and back up to my eyes. We were standing entirely too close for what I would consider appropriate when I train the priestesses. But I couldn’t help it, Y/N is my beautiful mate and it was my instinct to want her body as close to mine as possible.

“Okay” she whispered, and the rest of training she heeded my advice. Although I wish she hadn’t, just so could correct her and breathe her in just a few more minutes.

I had already fallen asleep after doing some paperwork for Rhysand and having dinner with the Inner Circle, which had involved a lot of catching lingering stares and averted gazes from Y/N. I was in the beginning of her dream when one of my shadows began tugging at my hand to wake me up.

“What?” I whisper-yelled, upset that they had interrupted this time with Y/N. They continued to tug on my hand, dragging me out of my bed.

Theh brought me straight to Y/N’s door, urging me to step inside. I knew she was asleep because I had my (her) dream interrupted by my shadows. I twisted the door handle softly, being careful not to make too much noise. I quickly found her form on her bed, her hands gripping the sheets. The shadows continued to guide me until was I standing over her bed. I raised my eyebrow at them to ask why they brought me here but they just whispered “Yours.” But i understood more after Y/N called, “Azriel!”

My heart leaped into my throat and I immediately felt myself stiffen. I felt so wrong standing over her in her bedroom without her knowing, but I couldn’t bring myself to walk away now that I was here. This woman really would be the death of my self control. As I was going through my moral dilemma, she gasped again “Az please,” lust evident in her voice. I reached my hand down and brushed my knuckles along her cheek, wanting to feel her skin. She lifted her chin as I ran my fingers along her jaw, entranced by her reaction. She whispered my name again, but I responded “Sweetheart” not exactly whispering. I could feel the timber in my voice as my own lust was consuming me. I could smell how aroused she was, and knew she wanted me, badly.

At the sound of my voice, her eyes barely fluttered open. She was not even half awake, she seemed to think she was still in her dream

She reached for my hand on her jaw, pulling me down to sit on the bed. Her pupils were so wide, almost black. I knew what she wanted and needed, but also knew she was still in her dreamland. She pulled my hand close to her mouth now that was sitting, using her fingers to bend mine so that my index and middle fingers were pointing out. She brought my fingers into her mouth and sucked them, her eyes drifting closed. I let out a sharp breath of air, watching her push my fingers to the back of her throat. I wasn’t sure what to do now, as she sucked, but she pulled my fingers out with a pop. She guided my hand down under her covers, and placed my hand over her pussy, her eyes still closed, as she whispered “Please Azriel.”

Although this seemed to be a bit of a gray area for us, Y/N being my mate (unknowingly), and her damn near asleep begging me to help her as she gripped my hand. But I just can’t help myself. With my other hand I lifted the covers and crawled in. I was already in my underwear having been woken up myself. I maneuvered myself so that I was completely under the covers, my shoulders slotted between her legs. I nudged her knees wide, so they would lie flat on the bed as she bared herself to me. She smelled so good, and she was already wearing no underwear, I had to lean forward and taste.

I ran a stripe up through her folds, already getting a tase of her wetness. She moaned loudly which only encouraged me. I began to circle her clit with my tongue when she shoved her hand into my hair. I started sucking, while entering my index finger into her pussy. I started moving in and out and she started rocking her hips into my mouth.

“Oh Az, I’m gonna cum” she moaned as she rocked her hips faster. I added another finger and started flicking my tongue faster. All I could do was moan back, vibrating her clit in my mouth.

Y/N pov

You came with a loud and crude moan, startling you out of the in between of your wet dream and real life. You had never cum so hard in all your life, but were shocked when you realized there was a head of hair gripped in your hand. You lifted the cover only to find your dream male (literally), eyes boring in yours, his chin glistening with the moonlight now hitting his face. You put your fingers under his chin, guiding him up to you. He followed, quickly settling his body over yours.

“Are you real?” You whispered. You didn’t know if this was real, it felt more real than any dream you had about him, and you were already previously dreaming.

“Yes, baby” he answered, looking to the side as if in shame. You brought his face back to yours, “why did you come here?”

“Because you called out to me” he breathed leaning his forehead on yours. You had never felt such intimacy, especially from someone you desired so desperately.

“How did you know?” You felt something glimmering in your chest, which you thought had something to do with an answer to that question.

“Y/N, your soul calls out to mine, your body calls out to mine, your desires call out to mine. Your dreams infiltrate my slumber Your thoughts fill my head. Your feelings have taken root in my heart” He searched your eyes frantically, looking for something. You felt your chest crack open, a golden thread weaving itself to male on top of you. You suddenly felt a wave of love, want, and need, all which didn’t belong to you. You gasped, eyes wide as you took in Azriel. You weaved your hand behind his head and brought his face down to yours, kissing him deeply. He kissed you hungrily, moving his lips against yours almost as competitively as you two played games. You didn’t want to fight for dominance, you were His and He was yours, equal in every way.

“Azriel” you gasped, tugging his hair back. He looked at you, seeming worried that he had crossed some line (that line has been crossed king).

“You’re my mate” you smiled so wide, tears springing from your eyes. He smiled down at you, relieved it was nothing bad. He nodded, kissing the tears that gathered on your face. You were filled with such joy, you and Azriel had always clicked so well, with undeniable chemistry. You trusted Him completely, he made you laugh, made you think, made you feel. You felt so blessed.

“How am I supposed to kick my mates ass in the ring for real?” You pushed his shoulder, and he let out a loud laugh, his face falling into your shoulder.

“I know other ways we can compete physically, but I’m not sure if there will be any losers” he winked and now it was your turn to laugh.

The end

#azriel/reader #azriel x reader #azriel smut #acotar fanfiction

168 notes · View notes

prythianpages · 2 years ago

Text

Lay All Your Love On Me | Cassian x Reader

summary: Cassian is your best friend and best friend’s don’t thirst after one another. Best friends don’t get jealous. Best friends also don’t fall in love with one another. But you did.

warnings: mild angst; smut at the end; basically, mutual jealousy

a/n: this was inspired by ABBA's song. I'm working on a series where I dedicate a song to each of the ACOTAR men and you can find the masterlist here. I feel like this is borderline crack at some points tbh and probably the longest one shot I've ever written. Also, the amount of times I've rewritten this is insane so I hope you like this final version ❤

Adrenaline courses through your veins. The wind becomes your companion, offering a resistance that you always find yourself craving. It caresses your skin, leaving a bittersweet ache. Running is the closest feeling to flying. Though your wings, tucked behind you, remain, they are rendered useless and forever will be. Those sick Illyrian males, paid off by your own brother, made sure of that.

Sometimes, you wish they would’ve just sloughed them off. An Illyrian with no wings is a tragedy but an Illyrian with useless wings is a devastating tragedy. A fate that, unfortunately, all Illyrian females have to endure.

Heated frustration surges within you, spurred on by the luminous blue hues radiating from the siphons encircling your wrists. You shake your head and take deep breaths because you can not let those triggering thoughts win. You can’t let them win. The primal thud of your heart urges you to push forward and–

“Fuck, marry, kill.”

“Cassian,” you nearly hiss, though the flutter in your chest betrays you.

“Come on,” he says, a grin playing on his lips as he matches your pace. “Me, Az, and Rhys. Go!”

You slow down your pace to shoot him a sidelong glance and pivot, turning to run the opposite direction. Heat rises to your cheeks. You blame it on your exercise.

“We played this last night.”

Undeterred, Cassian picks up his pace to stay ahead of you, running backwards with ease. “And you didn’t answer me.”

As you both rounded a corner, someone bumped into you. Your steps faltered slightly before you caught your own balance.

“Oops. Sorry, didn’t–”

The Illyrian male who collided with you didn’t even have time to finish his apology, as insincere as it was. Cassian shoved him, sending the male plummeting to the ground with a growl. You swear you hear him choke on dirt.

“Watch it, asshole.”

When Cassian turns back to you, you arch a brow at him and he gives you a nonchalant shrug. You both know that male intentionally bumped into you. As one of the few Illyrian females who has defied tradition and trained extensively, the disrespect constantly thrown at you is no surprise. Though you’re no longer fazed by it, you can’t say the same for Cassian.

His gaze softens and grin returns, the wind tousling his dark hair as he maintains his backward stride. “Now, where were we?”

“Fine,” you say with a huff.

It’s not in Cassian’s nature to give up. You’ve played this game multiple times, introduced by Mor, with the inner circle on drunken nights. You were always quick with your answers but not this time. Not when your options were three of your close friends and among them, there was one you secretly or maybe not so secretly harbored feelings for. That and the lack of liquid courage you usually have at your side when playing.

“Fuck Azriel.”

Cassian’s steps come to a stop and so do yours, albeit reluctantly. There’s a glint in his hazel eyes as he looks at you. “I’m going to tell him.”

“Go ahead,” you reply because you don’t care if the Shadowsingers knows. He’s the safest choice of them all and he wouldn’t let this stupid game get to his head unlike Cassian. “You know that’d be your answer too.”

Both you and Cassian share a look because you’re not wrong.

Then, you both are turning your heads to find the Shadowsinger. Azriel stands at the far end of the training grounds, engaged in the rhythmic lifting of weights. Shirtless. The distance between you two and him is vast, rendering any audible communication impossible. However, the subtle play of shadows around his ears catches your attention, and as if sensing your gazes, he turns, narrowing his eyes at both you and Cassian with an uncanny perceptiveness.

Caught red-handed, both you and Cassian turn your heads away. He looks at you again. “So,” he starts once more and you bite back the urge to groan. At this moment, you’re almost inclined to reveal that you’d like to do all three to the Illyrian male in front of you.

“Who will you be marrying? Me or Rhys?”

It’s as if he heard his name being called. Rhysand prods gently at the shields of your mind and when you allow him in, you know he relayed the same message to Cassian and Azriel. You both head over to the sparring grounds, where Azriel is already waiting for you. He throws a sword to you and then to Cassian.

Cassian wiggles his eyebrows at you suggestively and you slap his arm. He pinches your side in retaliation, a reminder that you’re not going to live this one down. He moves into position and you mirror him.

He lifts his sword, feigning a lunge that you counter with a swift parry. Your movements are both graceful and calculated, a testament to the years of training under his guidance. Meanwhile, Azriel circles around you both, a silent spectator.

Cassian’s strikes intensify, growing more precise every time. Your swords clash, ringing in the air. But despite your skill, Cassian is stronger, more experienced. Seizing an opportune moment, he lunges with a force that sends you stumbling backward. Your sword clatters to the ground as you find yourself seated on the training grounds.

"Did I serve?" Cassian smirks, offering a mock salute, his muscles flexing in a playful display. "Or did I serve?"

He twirls his sword with a flourish, unaware of the glare you shoot his way. With a determined huff, you gather yourself, reaching for your fallen weapon and swiftly rising to your feet. In a strategic move, you deliver a swift kick, sweeping Cassian off his feet and onto his back.

With a triumphant grin, you step forward, placing a boot on his chest to keep him on the ground. You press your weight on him teasingly, knowing that Azriel is not the only one watching you two anymore. Hazel eyes sparkle back at you with a mixture of pride and a subtle undertone, a hint of something more lingering beneath the surface, as your sword hovers just above his neck. It brings forth an unspoken tension between you both and if you hadn’t blinked, you wouldn’t have missed the way Cassian licks his lips as he looks up at you.

"You got served."

Cassian laughs as you drop your sword and lift your boot. You don’t bother to offer him a hand, wanting to bask in your victory as much as possible but much to your dismay, Azriel helps him up.

Thank you for humbling him.

You turn around to see Rhysand. His lips purse, suppressing his amusement. His eyes become unreadable as he dons his High Lord mask. A palpable aura of immense power radiates from him.

Beside him, stands another male, whose presence commands just as much attention as Rhysand. His skin is a rich brown and hair white. You’ve never met him before but you know who he is as Rhysand had informed you of his visit. It’s why you were conveniently training in Windhaven, despite your preference for the training grounds atop the House of Wind.

The three of you greet Rhysand first before bowing your heads in respect to the High Lord of the Summer Court.

“This is Cassian, general commander of my armies. This is y/n, one of our great Illyrian warriors and this is Azriel, my spymaster. They are all well equipped and are looking forward to working with your soldiers for the next two weeks.”

You’ve rarely traveled outside of the Night Court. You weren't a high fae like Mor or Rhysand so you couldn’t winnow and after the clipping of your wings, you couldn’t fly like Cassian or Azriel. So your friends were your main means of transportation and you were looking forward to working with High Lord Nostrus’s soldiers as it was a means for you to get to explore another one of Prythian’s lovely courts.

But now that you’re here, in their training grounds, you’re no longer looking forward to being here for the next two weeks.

Not when one particularly strikingly beautiful female soldier has set her eyes on Cassian and certainly not when there’s an unfamiliar burning resentment in your chest too strong to ignore. It flares every time her gaze or touch lingers too long. By the Cauldron, since when did every woman you see become a potential threat with Cassian? He is your friend.

A reminder that stings as much as the intensity of the burning feeling coursing through you. Though, you’ve never felt this way before, you realize that you’ve been more sensitive in anything Cassian these past couple of months–since starfall. It’s as if he casted a spell on you, one where you can only think about him. He’s your every waking thought and lingers as your final thought before sleep.

The feeling in your chest flares to a blazing fire when you overhear him praise the female soldier and the wooden sword splinters in your grasp, falling to the ground.

This is going to be a long two weeks.

“Are you jealous?” Azriel muses beside you.

“Me?” You say with a huff, kicking the evidence of the broken sword away. Of course it doesn’t go unnoticed by Azriel, the skilled spymaster. The corner of his lips quirk up but you insist. “Jealous? Never.”

You send an amused Azriel a glare before picking up another practice sword. Determined to not let your jealousy get in the way, you engage yourself in training the small group assigned to you. You were here for a reason and you’d give the soldiers under your command your all.

After a full afternoon of training, you were eager to clean the dirt and sweat off your skin. You were also eager to distance yourself as much from Cassian and that female before you did something you’d regret. Your bath worked wonders to ease every tense muscle. If you hadn’t been invited by High Lord Nostrus to dinner, you would’ve basked in the warmth of the water a little longer. The sound of waves crashing soothes you as you make your way to your bed, ruffling your damp hair with a towel.

Nestled adjacent to Cassian's and Azriel's quarters, your room stands vast and breathtaking. It’s also missing an entire wall. In its place, vines adorned with blooming dahlias weave along the room's edges, seamlessly bridging the gap between the interior and the great sea outdoors.

Your attention gravitates towards the bed, adorned in the softest silks, a sanctuary you can’t wait to sink into. Atop it rests a box, concealing an invitation to dinner and an outfit that differs greatly from your Illyrian leathers.

You find a dress. A pale blue masterpiece with a daring plunging neckline and high slits. You’ve never worn anything like it. The fabric is soft and weightless, its wispy texture feels like a gentle sea breeze caressing your skin with every step. You appreciate that it was backless to accommodate your wings.

Sitting down at the vanity, the jewelry that was in the box sparkles back up at you. You're touched by the High Lord’s gesture but you’re also wary of all his gifts. You settle on the most simplest of jewelry–diamond earrings and a sapphire necklace that reminds you of the siphons you wear. You have three in total but the one wrapped around your wrist is the only one you keep with you at all times. You save the other two for when you’re training or fighting to help you control your power.

As you step out of your room, Cassian and Azriel's eyes are drawn to you. You smile at them in greeting. Cassian's gaze lingers, a silent appreciation etched in every curve and contour he not so discreetly takes in. Warmth prickles at your skin, and an inexplicable spark ignites within your chest in response.

Azriel clears his throat, amused eyes dancing between you two. “Shall we?”

Cassian, as if emerging from a trance, regains his composure and grins at you. He extends his arm and you gratefully hook yours through his as he leads the way down the hall. You notice that he also switched his leathers into something more befitting the Summer court’s warmth. He wears dark navy linen pants that match Azriel’s but unlike the dark shirt the Shadowsinger wears, he chose a lighter colored one. The fabric is nearly see through, offering a teasing peek at the tattoos embellishing his chest and the defined muscles that lie beneath.

You feel his gaze on you as you walk beside him that prompts you to look up at him in question. He takes a moment to respond and finally with a sheepish smile says, “you smell nice.”

“Oh, thanks. I used coconut soap that was left in my bathroom,” you respond, a tinge of confusion and subtle disappointment coloring your words. At least it was an actual compliment unlike last starfall when all he said was “you look different.” Yet, it embarrassingly still had the same effect, leaving you blushing.

Azriel, walking behind you, can't help but let out a snort. Idiots, he thinks to himself. His shadows agree.

There’s a wide assortment of delicious food laid out for you all. Your lips quirk up when you catch the way Cassian’s eyes light up at the sight. You take the seat next to him and Azriel the seat across from you. High Lord Nostrus sits at the head of the table, gesturing for you all to dive in. With a snap of his fingers, the golden chalices in front of you fill with a sweet wine.

“I appreciate you all for your efforts in helping strengthen my armies.”

Cassian’s mouth was full of food and Azriel brought his drink to his lips, not keen on the idea of making small talk with the High Lord. Resisting the urge to roll your eyes at your male companions, you muster a smile and turn to Nostrus instead.

“I believe we should be the ones thanking you for being such a gracious host. As emissaries of our esteemed High Lord, it is our sincere desire that our efforts not only strengthen your armies but also fortify the bonds of alliance between the courts of Summer and Night.”

“Of course.” Nostrus's turquoise eyes study you, and you can feel the weight of his gaze settling on your wings. The instinct to protectively tuck them in tighter behind you flares, a vulnerable self-consciousness settling in. "From my understanding, it is not common for an Illyrian female to train and fight. Am I right?"

“Yes, you are correct. But I am working closely with my High Lord to rectify that.”

Cassian, sensing your unease, swallows his food, and a reassuring hand finds its place on your thigh, offering a comforting squeeze. You're familiar with Cassian's expressive and caring nature through touch. However, his simple and sweet gestures, such as the way he’s touching your thigh right now, sends your heart racing instead.

"I watched you from afar this afternoon. You took down some of my best soldiers with ease," Nostrus remarks, and a gentle breeze from the nearby sea courses through the open dining room, sending a shudder through your wings. His perceptive eyes catch the movement. "Your wings are different."

The hand on your thigh tightens, mirroring the constriction in your throat.

"High Lord–" Cassian begins, a subtle warning threaded through his otherwise light tone.

Nostrus raises his hand. "I mean no harm. Truly."

His gaze remains fixed on you as he continues, "As you see, we pride ourselves on every soldier, regardless of gender. Anyone who swears loyalty to this court is held in great esteem. I protect them as much as they would protect my court. While I do not know your story, I now know your worth, and if the Night Court is not able to appreciate you, then–"

"The Night Court appreciates her just fine," Cassian interrupts, a protective edge slicing through his words. He hates Nostrus’s accusatory tone and ignores the warning look Azriel sends his way.

You place a hand over Cassian’s but keep your eyes on Nostrus. “You flatter me, High Lord,” you manage to say with a smile. “Though my scars may say otherwise, I can assure you that my High Lord treats me well. In fact, High Lord Rhysand is working on banning the practice of clipping wings so our future generations will not know the horrors enacted under previous rulers…”

Your wings, draped behind you, bear the burden of your trauma–the betrayal of your brother. You hate how sensitive you are at the mere mention of them. You wipe hastily at your eyes. Cassian, who refused to part ways with you at your door, stands silently beside you. Your haunting memories store themselves back into the depths of your mind as his movements catch your attention. It’s strange but comforting, the way he always knows when you don’t want to talk and are in need of a distraction instead.

But your cheeks heat up because you’re unsure if this distraction is a good idea. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Cassian grins at you as he continues stripping himself of his clothes. “I’m going for a swim.”

He winks at you as he kicks his pants off, leaving him in only his boxer briefs that are clinging to him in a way that makes your mouth nearly water. You pull your gaze away, hating the way your mind wants to drift to devious thoughts because you know what lies underneath. You’ve seen him in his full glory far too many times than you’d like to admit–each one of them on accident.

Your heart flutters madly against the fragile cage of your chest and you press a hand against it as if that would do anything to ease your racing heart. Because Cassian is your best friend and best friend’s don’t thirst after one another. Best friends also don’t fall in love with one another.

But you did.

He was your mentor before he became your friend and each passing year since then seemed to usher in a quiet surrender. Almost as if every step was an unspoken agreement with your heart, blurring in between the fine line of friendship and something else. You navigated the staircase of emotions, unaware, until you stood near the bottom. Instead of gracefully reaching the last step, the sudden realization of your feelings felt like a forceful tumble, leaving you to hit the ground and boy did you hit it hard.

The sound of a joyful splash resonates through the air, harmonizing with the playful melody of droplets that dance against your bare legs. You shoot a glare Cassian’s way, even though you didn’t mind, and you can’t bring yourself to care when he flicks a middle finger at you in response. You’re far too used to them to be bothered. Realizing that the water felt nice and warm, you nestle yourself on the edge of the floor. You hike your dress up and then dip your legs into the soothing waters.

Bathed in the ethereal glow of moonlight, Cassian floats on his back, allowing his wings to carry him through the soft waves. Your gaze lingers on him, tracing the moonlit contours of his muscles. Another splash pulls you out of your trance and this time, the droplets reach the thin fabric of your dress.

“Come on, bibble!” Cassian exclaims.

Your glare returns, irritation flickering in your eyes. “I told you to stop calling me that!”

His grin widens, undeterred. “Won’t you join me?”

You respond with a swift kick, creating a splash that dances towards him. Regret settles in immediately as his eyes light up in the moonlight, holding mischief, as he swims toward you.

“Bibble’,” he nearly purrs, somehow making the stupid nickname sound downright sinful. He braces his hands on either side of you, the muscles of his arms flexing. His chest brushes against your legs and all you can think about is how nice he feels so close to you. “Why won’t you join me?”

You’re looking anywhere but him. “I don’t feel like it.”

Cassian hums, his thoughtful gaze lingering for a moment longer than you'd expect. You release a breath you didn't realize you were holding when he turns his head. It’s a short lived moment of relief because in a heartbeat, he pulls your legs from underneath you and drags you into the water with him. You’re splashing and writhing and like an idiot, your mouth opens in panic.

Cassian's strong arms swiftly encircle you, pulling you up from the water's depths. As you resurface, you're coughing and sputtering, water droplets cascading down your face. He chuckles while you hit his chest.

"I can't swim, you idiot!"

"Relax," Cassian laughs, his hands holding your hips firmly to keep you afloat with him. His expression, though soft, morphs into something more serious. "I’ve got you. I always will.”

His words unrattle something deep within you and you can’t move, can’t think properly. You can only feel. Your mind goes blank and eyes grow distant as you’re brought back to the night he first said those words. Right after he found you laying in a pool of your own blood. It was the night your wings were clipped. A hand reaches out to caress your face and his fingers rest on your chin, directing your focus to him.

Tears threaten the corners of your eyes. The desire to avert your gaze is strong, but he doesn't permit it. He needs you to answer him. "You know that, right?"

A breath catches in your throat before you finally manage to whisper, "Yeah."

Cassian's lips form a rare, softer smile. He draws you closer until you can feel his breath, sense his warmth. He kisses your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer and when he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours. A thumb brushes gently against your cheek. His gaze dips to your lips and absentmindedly, his thumb slowly traces along your bottom lip. There’s a faraway look in his eyes as he’s lost in contemplation.

Your heart is roaring in your ears and there’s something singing madly in your chest because he’s never touched you like this before. Tell him. Your breath is shaky when you speak. "Cas?"

He holds his gaze to your lips, allowing the soft rocking of a wave to push him closer to you. "Yes?"

Suddenly, the night sky bursts into a kaleidoscope of colors. The unexpected spectacle and the resonating boom startles you, and on instinct, you find refuge in the safety of Cassian's embrace. If he weren’t caught up in the heat of the moment, he would’ve teased you for the way you are clinging madly onto him, legs and arms wrapped tightly around him.

"Wow," you exhale, the initial shock giving way to a relaxed sense of awe.

The fireworks continue to bloom overhead, their vibrant hues reflecting in your wonderstruck eyes. You gradually unwrap your legs from around Cassian, and your arms loosen their hold around his neck. Yet, he maintains a firm grip on your hips.

“Beautiful.”

You hum in agreement, and when you turn back to Cassian, you realize his gaze has never wavered from you throughout the entire display. "What were you going to say?"

"What?"

"What were you going to say earlier…"

"Oh, that," you stammer, panic subtly seeping in, eyebrows furrowing slightly. The courage you once possessed to voice your feelings has dissipated in the wake of the unexpected interruption. “Um, can you teach me how to swim?”

His gaze lingers on you. It’s as if he knows those were not the words you were going to say but he doesn’t push you on it. “Sure,” he says instead and clears his throat, looking away. “But maybe another night?”

“Why?”

You regret your question as soon as you ask it, eyes widening when you feel why. There’s something hard poking at your stomach. You freeze up, not knowing what to do, inadvertently making matters worse. Though the night is dark, the moon glows bright enough for you both to notice your peaked nipples as the thin light fabric of your dress is completely see through in the water.

“Stop staring!” You cry out, using one of your hands to splash water onto him. If he weren’t your lifeline, the only thing keeping you afloat in these deep waters, you would’ve shoved him under water.

Cassian snaps out of it with a flinch, blinking away the salty droplets of water that splashed into his eyes. “I was looking respectfully!”

“Respectfully my ass!”

“I mean, I could look at that too.”

You shoot him a glare, hating the way his words have your insides in a frenzy. He doesn’t seem to care about his obvious arousal poking at you and you don’t have it in you to tease him as you’re desperately trying to hide yours, praying that the vast sea surrounding you is enough to mask your scent. Your hands are grasping out for the vines that run along the edge of the tiles as soon as you can reach them, using them to guide you back into the safety of your room.

You pause before you hoist yourself back up, turning to look at a clearly amused Cassian.

“Turn around.”

“Oh, come on,” he chuckles but saves you further embarrassment by doing as you asked. You wait until his back is fully turned to you, wings flaring out behind him and spraying you with sea water on purpose, to hoist yourself up into your room. Once you’re on your feet, you pull at one of the many sheets on your bed, wrapping it snug around your exposed body.

“You can turn back around now.”

“You can look as much as you want, bibble.” He tells you though your gaze remains fixed on the seashell painting on one of your walls. Your mind is racing and if he asked you what colors were on the painting, you would fail miserably in answering him. “Disrespectfully too.”

You can hear his agonizingly slow footsteps as he makes his way to the door, not bothering to pick up the clothes he left sprawled all over your floor. “Get out,” you nearly growl at him, not caring anymore, as you turn around and shove at his back. Because if he doesn’t leave soon, you’re sure you’ll lose your self control.

“Mother’s tits, y/n! I’m going!” He exclaims in protest with a grin evident in his tone.

“Well, go faster!” You huff at him, hands still pressing against his back. “I’m.Tired.”

Tired of holding back your emotions, more like it. As soon as he steps out your door, you’re slamming it shut before he can catch a glimpse of your flustered face.

“Sweet dreams, bibble.”

Leaning against the door, you take a moment to catch your breath as Cassian's deep laughter echoes through the halls. You close your eyes, attempting to rein in the whirlwind of emotions surging within you. It’s not the first time Cassian’s teased you and it won’t be the last and you’re certainly not the only one he flirts with. The female soldier from earlier being a prime example of that.

You know he means no harm by it. Yet, his teasing stings. Because you want it to be real, for him to mean every flirtatious gesture and word. You want him to like you and only you.

Nostrus's attempts to entice you into staying in his court become increasingly overt with each passing day. Every evening unveils a new gown adorned with matching jewelry and shoes. Precisely at the stroke of ten, the night sky ignites in a display of vibrant fireworks dedicated to the three of you but when you commented the red ones were your favorite, you note more shades of reds lighting up the night skies. Each morning, a charming arrangement of summer flowers graces your presence. Even the soldiers in your training group can't help but notice the High Lord's watchful gaze whenever he deigns to join them.

Azriel finds the spectacle amusing, always the silent observer to any unfolding drama. However, Cassian is less entertained. During your nightly debriefs with Rhysand, he consistently raises the issue and you’ve noticed that during training, he sticks closer to you.

None of you bring up the heated moment you shared on your first night in Summer. It’s almost as if it didn’t happen at all and you’re not surprised. While it meant something to you, you know it meant nothing to him.

The female soldier, Olianna, you reluctantly learned her name, is as persistent with him as Nostrus is to you. You’re nearing the end of your first week when the female soldier and a couple of others join your nightly dinner with Nostrus and tonight, in her ruby red dress, she looks devastatingly beautiful. She takes the seat beside Cassian. Your unassigned but assigned spot. You begrudgingly sit beside Azriel instead, who is quick to raise a brow at you.

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he replies and when you kick his leg under the table, there’s the faintest of a coy smile on his lips.

You barely even touch your plate. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth and it’s not from the food. Cassian has barely even looked at you, engrossed in what appears to be a hilarious conversation with Olianna. You’re thankful when Nostrus excuses you all from dinner, quick to rise from your seat.

“Y/N, may I have a word?” Nostrus calls to you with a smile and when Cassian’s head perks up, finally sparing you a second of his attention, he adds: “In private.”

As you make your way back to your room, after a pointless conversation with Nostrus, your steps come abruptly to a halt. Your heart quickens and stomach tightens as you spot Cassian and Olianna down the hall.

Olianna’s hands rest on Cassian’s arms as she looks up at him. Her back is pressed against the wall. He leans down to whisper something that you can’t discern from your distance. It has her giggling and the sound is like a painful stab to your heart. They’re so, so close. That familiar ache settles in your chest, pushing down on you so harshly you can barely breathe.

How desperately you wish to trade places with her and maybe that could’ve been you, if you had given in to his teasing the other night. While he’d give his body to you, you know his heart would not fall so easily such as the way yours did. Cassian is a true heartthrob, a man who effortlessly captivates the hearts of many but never the one to give his. Why would you be an exception?

You try to push away your unease but fail miserably when they walk further down the hall and disappear around a corner. Doubt begins to creep in, seeping into your bones with a terrifying chilling fear. Maybe, just maybe, there is something more between them and you had lost a battle only you were aware of fighting.

Tears burn at your eyes and as you hear the door shut behind him, you feel your heart shatter at the images that flood your mind. Of him kissing her, touching her and–Stop!

You’re running blindly to your room, too caught up in your emotions to realize your mistake. Azriel blinks at your sudden entrance, seated on his bed. However, the distress etched across your face propels him to throw his book aside and jump to his feet. Shadows flit towards you, brushing against your exposed skin and he lets out a small exhale in relief when they report no injuries.

"Should I get Cas?" Azriel offers, eyes widening slightly as concern etches its way onto his features.

Your hand reaches out, stopping him before he can leave the room. "No."

He looks at you helplessly. He’s seen you cry before but Cassian was always there in those moments. Yes, Azriel regards you as a good friend–you’ve trained with him for many years alongside Cassian. He’d happily tend to your physical injuries because it was something he was capable of but the depth of your current pain is something he is unsure how to navigate. Something only Cassian uniquely understands.

"Okay," Azriel says slowly, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "What do you need?"

Frustration colors your attempt to wipe away the tears, and a sniffle escapes you. You’ve never felt so small, so fragile and as Azriel watches you break in front of him, realization dawns on him. Something must’ve happened between you and Cassian and his mouth parts to ask but you beat him to it.

"I need you to teach me how to swim."

The next morning you can’t bring yourself to meet Cassian’s gaze. Images of him with Oliana flood your mind every time you cast a glance in his direction and the ache in your chest resurfaces. It’s irrational, you know. He’s not at fault for your feelings. After all, you’re just a friend to him. You have no claim to his affection, even though every fiber of your being yearns for it.

You are the problem.

When he reaches out, his hand lightly grasping your arm, you muster only a feeble greeting. You hear the concern in his voice as he asks what's wrong.

"Nothing," you reply, forcing a smile. "I'm just tired."

You feel the weight of his gaze burning into you as you head over to your group. He casts a glance toward Azriel in silent questioning but the Shadowsinger simply shakes his head.

The sun bathes Summer’s training grounds in a warm glow and sweat clings to your skin as you show one of your soldiers a delicate maneuver with your sword that Illyrians favor during battle.

As your gaze lifts with your sword, you catch a glimpse of Cassian and Oliana sparring. Your chest tightens when you can’t help but notice their proximity to one another. The sweet sound of her laughter follows shortly after and the tightening in your chest is replaced with a burning fire.

“I don’t think I’m doing it right. Can you teach me again?”

“Of course.”

Cassian's gaze briefly meets yours, and a sudden rush of emotion courses through you. You’re quickly averting your eyes, attempting to feign disinterest. You tell yourself you're no longer watching them, but deep down, your mind is painting vivid pictures, imprinting scenes of Cassian with her.

However, this time, it's not sadness that simmers within. It’s a burning anger and your siphons flare. Cassian is free to do whatever he pleases in his spare time but during training? When you’re working and glaringly right in front of you?

Olianna’s laughter rings out again, the sound mingling with the clash of steel. Another pang of envy stabs through your chest, sharper than the blade in your hand.

“Like this?”

“Yeah, you got it, sweetheart.”

Your blood runs cold, sending shivers down your spine yet, there’s an undeniable blaze burning fiercely within your chest. It’s a possessive fire, a primal instinct screaming “mine” in the depths of your very being. Why does she get a sweet nickname and you a stupid one? Why is he so gentle in training her when he was harsh with you?

“That’s it,” you hiss under your breath, looking back at your group. “I’m going to show you how a fight is won.”

Tightening your grip on your sword, you nearly stomp your way to Cassian. Azriel’s head perks up from where he stands, eyes widening for a fleeting moment as he catches the glow of your siphons. “Y/n, what are–”

“Stay out of it!” You exclaim, pointing your sword at him. The sharp blade teases at his throat and he falters. His shadows whisper to him in warning and he holds his hands up in surrender, catching something flickering in your eyes.

Cassian and Oliana turn their heads at the commotion. She instinctively takes a step behind Cassian and your jaw clenches at the sight. He doesn’t seem to notice it though, attention solely focused on you.

“What’s the matter, bibble?”

You point your sword at him. “You.”

“Me?” He responds, a bewildered expression crossing his face. However, he remains unfazed as your sword points directly at his chest.

“You’ve gone soft, General.” you tell him, inclining your head towards Oliana and you can’t bring yourself to care if your emotions seep out. The envy is coursing through you like an unrelenting fire. “How is she to hone in her skills when she spends most of her training laughing and batting her pretty eyelashes at you?”

Cassian lets out a chuckle. It’s been years since you’ve referred to him by his title. His hazel eyes take you in, sparkling at you with something you can’t discern. He can read the challenge in your eyes and when he finally spares a glance to the female behind him, he turns back to you. His fingers grasp at your blade carefully, lowering your sword so he can take a step forward.

“She’s not ready to be challenged.”

You smirk at him, standing your ground. “A soldier is never fully prepared for battle.”

Cassian takes another step forward and though your sword lowers further, your grip on the hilt tightens. “And a General knows when it’s best for their soldiers to refrain from entering the battlefield.”

You take pleasure in the way Oliana huffs out indignantly from behind him.

You arch an eyebrow at him in challenge. Deep down, you’re aware nothing good is going to come from this but your Illyrian blood craves an outlet for the pent-up emotions that have been brewing for many years.

“You fight me then,” you demand and you can feel the simmering fire between you intensifying. You welcome it, almost seeking the chaos it promises. "And don't you dare go soft on me."

His pupils flare and a sly smirk curls upon his lips. “I don’t think you can handle me.”

“Lay it all on me.”

Two blood rubies, sinister in their crimson glow, glisten back at you, creating a dance of hues that pulse and flicker with an inner fire. One for Cassian. One for you. Your heart sinks to your stomach and you want to cry.

This is all your doing. Your fault.

Cassian, however, does not regard the rubies sent from the Summer Court with the same gravity. "Might as well put these beauties to use. I’m sure it would look stunning on a necklace. Maybe, even a ring,” he quips as he picks his up, hazel eyes sparkling with mirth.

You immediately sense that nothing good is going to come from this–the same way you did before the two of you accidentally destroyed a building. He turns to you and gets down on one knee. There’s a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he looks up at you.

“Marry me?"

A rush of heat floods your face, and your eyes instinctively seek out Rhysand, finding him far from amused. He's fuming with a quiet rage, his gaze icy and piercing. You quickly avert your eyes, shifting your attention back to the Illyrian male now kneeling before you. You nudge his knee with your leg, ignoring the twinge of hurt at the expense of his joke.

"Get up, Cas.”

"Say yes.”

"Get up.”

“You think this is funny??”

You flinch at the sharpness of Rhysand’s tone and Cassian stands with a sigh. His hand brushes against yours but you don’t dare take it. You don’t deserve it. It’s only been hours since your abrupt return from Summer–since your heated fight sent an entire building crumbling into rubble. If Azriel hadn’t used his shadows to return you home immediately after, you’re not sure you’d be alive right now.

“I’m so sorry, Rhys,” you say, lowering your head and Rhysand’s gaze softens at the nervous fidgeting of your hands. “It’s all my fault.”

“No, it’s mine.” Cassian steps forward, hand resting on your waist to gently push you back behind him as he takes full responsibility. “I got caught up in the heat of the moment.”

“Cas, I’m the one who challenged you.”

He ignores you. “It was my blast that sent that building, as weak as it already was, to crumble down.”

Rhysand lets out a deep sigh. He leans back into his seat, fingers rubbing at his forehead at the images Azriel provides. He finds that you both are equally at fault. They’re complete wreck less idiots, Rhysand groans into the Shadowsinger’s mind.

I know. There’s a hint of amusement in Azriel’s response.

Running a hand down his face in exhaustion, Rhysand looks at both you and Cassian.

You stand there, still behind Cassian, anxious as you await your impending punishment and he can literally hear your mind racing without having to intrude. Meanwhile, Cassian, seemingly unfazed, hums a carefree tune to himself, earning an incredulous glance from you.

“Well I can kiss my alliance with the Summer Court goodbye but I will not have a High Lord from another court seeking vengeance on two of my closest friends. You each are going to write your most heartfelt apologies to Nostrus, beg if you must, and let us all pray to the Cauldron that he finds it in his heart to forgive you.”

Parchment, ink and quills appear at the desk before you. With a flick of his wrist, Rhysand uses his magic to bring forth two chairs, gesturing for you and Cassian to sit. “You two are not allowed to leave this room until those letters are finished.”

Rhysand then turns to Azriel. “I need you to watch them. Make sure they don’t destroy any of my buildings.”

A low, almost melodramatic groan escapes Azriel’s lips. “Why do I always have to babysit them?”

“Azriel.”

“Fine.”

Once Rhysand leaves, you slump into one of the chairs with a small sigh of relief. You pick up a quill, dipping it in ink and stare at the blank parchment. Cassian does the same. Azriel picks up a book from one of the shelves. He then seats himself at Rhysand’s chair, right across from you both.

“Please make this quick,” his voice almost pleads, eyes darting between you both.

“You write it for me then.” Cassian rips a piece of paper, crumbling it into a tiny ball before flicking it at his friend. Azriel rolls his eyes, his loyal shadows catching the piece of paper midair and sending it back to Cassian, hitting his forehead with a tiny “whoosh.”

Your eyebrows furrow in an attempt to focus, all the while trying to ignore the distracting bounce of Cassian's leg. Slowly but surely, you’re scribbling words onto the parchment and before you know it, you’re crafting the most sincere apology to High Lord Nostrus.

Cassian picks up on your deep concentration. He leans in closer, warm breath tickling your ear. “Whatcha writing there, bibble?”

“An apology,” you respond dryly, shooting him a sideways glance. You take note that his paper is still blank. “Something you should be doing too if you want us to make it to dinner.”

“I am. I’m just brainstorming,” he retorts in a ‘duh’ tone. “Let me see yours!”

You’re sliding your parchment away from his prying eyes. “No. Use your own brain!”

Ever the persistent one, Cassian leans in even closer, his head now practically resting on your shoulder as your hands hover over your paper, careful not to smear the fresh ink. “Come on, just a peek. I promise not to steal your most heartfelt words.”

With an exasperated sigh, you relent, allowing him a quick glimpse. His eyes are skimming through the words with an appreciative tilt of his head. “I like it. But maybe add a bit more details and drama, you know? Tug at his heartstrings a little more, he seemed to like you a lot.”

“We’re not trying to craft a masterpiece to win an award, Cassian,” you hiss at him, snatching your letter away from him.

“But you are trying to free yourself of a death sentence.” Azriel remarks, peering over his book at you as he reminds you that receiving a blood ruby from the Summer Court is not something to be taken lightly.

“See? Az gets it.” Cassian chuckles.

“Shut up and get to writing.” Azriel snaps at the busybody beside you, a stern edge in his tone.

“Yes, sir!”

Fortunately, the three of you arrive just in time for dinner. Unfortunately, the predominant topic at the table centers around the destruction of the building in the Summer Court. Rhysand, having taken the time to cool down, is noticeably calmer. While he remains upset that you and Cassian veered off course from your assigned mission, there's also a hint of happiness in having his friends back home and safe.

Cassian casually drapes his arm over the back of your chair, and the room is filled with the melody of his laughter in response to something Mor said. Something you should’ve caught as you’re seated right across from her but it’s the rich scent of sandalwood that captivates all your senses, causing your stomach to flutter. You barely manage to swallow your food without choking–a fact not lost on Azriel. He, however, chooses not to comment, sparing you from further embarrassment and grinning into his glass of wine instead.

Rhysand glares at Mor and you get a sense of what had been said when he says: “Please don’t encourage these architects of chaos.”

You groan, leaning back into your seat. The regret is instant as the edge of your wing brushes against Cassian’s arm. It sends a slight shiver down your spine and you’re mustering all your strength to keep it from causing your sensitive wings to twitch. You’re down bad.

“Can we please talk about something else?”

“Sure, but before we do…” Amren begins, a devious smile playing on her lips as she glances at you from across the table. “Can I keep the rubies?”

“Yeah and you can even keep the threat that comes with it too.”

The rest of dinner is, for the most part, uneventful. Rhysand excuses himself early to finish on some paperwork and before he leaves, he lets you and Cassian know that High Lord Nostrus should be receiving your written apologies by tomorrow morning. Amren leaves shortly after, eager to return to the quiet peace of her home. Just in time, too, as she manages to avoid a pointless argument between Cassian and Azriel over who has the best technique in training.

Not wanting to be dragged into it, you rise from your seat, grabbing a hold of the two remaining unopened wine bottles that Rhysand forgot to take back with him. You turn to Mor and you laugh when you don’t even have to say anything. She’s already standing from her seat, gesturing for you to lead the way.

The two of you end up in one of the living rooms and you’re touched when you find that the sentient house has a delicious assortment of desserts waiting for you on the coffee table. You sink into the comfort of the couch, feeling like you’re sitting on a cloud. Mor seats herself beside you, doing the honors of pouring you a glass of wine.

It doesn’t take long before the two of you are immersed into the dirtiest of gossip and catch up with one another. You move to pour yourself another glass only to find the second wine bottle empty, so you set your empty glass down on the coffee table. Leaning back into the comfort of the plush couch, you let out a sigh.

“I don’t know what he’s done to me,” you confess quietly, exhaustion taking over your features. “I’ve known him for years and all of sudden, I’m a possessive jealous mess? It doesn’t make sense to me.”

Mor raises a brow, as if it makes perfect sense to her. She then hums in contemplation, swirling the last drops of wine in her glass. “Maybe we should go out, have some fun, find a little distraction for you.”

“Or you can tell Cassian how you feel.”

The deep voice startles you both, causing Mor to gasp. Her glass falls from her grasps as Azriel emerges from the shadows. She regards the small specks of red tainting the white carpet with a frown before lifting her gaze to scowl at the Shadowsinger while you shoot him a mortified look.

“How dare you give her a reasonable option?” Mor chides him, waving her hands dramatically in the air.

“Stop with that nonsense, Az,” you say, a slight slur to your words. A frown settles onto your face, heart aching as your mind forces you to think of Cassian and Olianna. “He doesn’t feel the same for me as I do for him. I’ll only ruin our friendship if I do.”

Azriel’s eyes travel throughout the room. He takes in the empty bottles of wine, your hazy eyes and Mor’s flushed face. He looks like he wants to tell you something, on the verge of sharing a secret. Yet, whatever words linger on the tip of his tongue remain unspoken. He decides it’s best to turn around and leave, the inked wing on his arm burning further into his skin.

“Fine but don’t call me for help when you destroy another building.”

"Oh, fuck you."

He doesn't bother to turn around as he returns the gesture, a small chuckle escaping from him as he disappears into his shadows.

“So,” you turn back to Mor. “How about that distraction?”

“By the Cauldron, you look absolutely ravishing.” Mor whistles, stepping back to appreciate her work and as you look at your reflection in the mirror, you can’t help but agree.

After asking Rhysand to fly you both down, Mor winnowed you both to the townhouse, where she kept most of her going out clothes as it was a shorter distance to Rita’s. Insisting on glamming you up, she took charge of your hair and makeup, even providing you with a choice from her wardrobe. Considering the wings, your options were limited, but your gaze was drawn to a striking red satin dress. It had an alluring lace-up open back and a daring slit hem.

After scouring the dance floor for an hour from your seat at the bar, you finally find someone who catches your interest and as you approach him, you’re happy to find that he isn't intimidated by the sight of your wings. Despite your determination to keep a low profile in Velaris, it becomes challenging to go unnoticed when your friends all possess such great reputations, especially when Cassian is by your side. Mor wishes you good luck, sending you a wink as you depart from her side.

The male, who is named Felix, slings an arm around your waist, pulling you flush to him as you dance and you find yourself missing the scent of sandalwood immensely. He grins at you, intentions as clear as yours. “You’re so beautiful,” he says, drinking you under the neon lights of Rita’s. He licks his lips and glances over at your wings. “I’ve heard Illyrians can be very sensitive when it comes to their wings. Can I touch?”

Your mind immediately brings an image forward, of your wings being softly caressed, and heat pools down to your stomach. But in your head, it’s not the male in front of you. It’s Cassian’s.

“Don’t you dare fucking touch her!”

By the Cauldron, your mind is playing tricks on you as you can even hear his voice too.

You feel the loss of warmth from the male and you open your eyes just in time to see Felix sent stumbling to the floor. Your mind wasn’t playing tricks on you. Cassian is standing in front of you, chest heaving. The people who had stopped to stare quickly avert their gazes at his heated stare.

Felix gets up to his feet. He doesn’t even spare you a glance or a word as he disappears into the crowd. You’re immediately leaving the dance floor, not bothering to grab your coat before you exit the club with Cassian hot on your heels.

You pivot and Cassian nearly bumps into you. “What the fuck Cassian?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, returning your glare. “What the fuck?”

“Why are you even here?”

“I don’t know. Something didn't feel right." Cassian confesses, placing a hand over his chest as if to settle a pain.

You turn back around, knowing the towering Illyrian male was already planning to follow you. You begin to make your way to your place–a small apartment that Rhysand had gifted you on your first solstice in Velaris. You seldom used it, preferring to stay at either the house of wind or townhouse, but Rhysand insisted you have a place of your own in case you ever need space.

“And that gave you the right to ruin my night?” you huff over your shoulder.

“Ruin your night? I just saved you!”

“From what?” You laugh with sarcasm, grateful that the walk from your apartment and Rita’s was short. Pulling your key out from your bra, you hastily unlock your door. “An orgasm? Gee, thanks. Love you for that,” and then under your breath mutter: “I didn’t stop you from yours in Summer.”

As soon as you step through your door, you turn and shut it behind you. A boot stops you from doing so and Cassian pushes against you and the door, allowing himself in. “What are you talking about?”

“You mean to tell me nothing happened between you and Olianna?”

“Yes, because nothing happened! She asked me to help her with a move after dinner so I did and…” His voice trails off, and then a heavy silence descends as realization washes over him. He looks at you, and you instinctively avert your gaze.

Without bothering to slip off your heels, you dart straight to your room, desperate to put as much distance between the two of you. You’re not ready to have this conversation. Relief mingles with embarrassment, both emotions flooding you and sending blood rushing to your face. But Cassian is determined. He follows after you.

“Were you jealous?”

Arms crossed over your chest, you keep your back to him, wings curled around you. “No.”

Cassian chuckles, and before you know it, he's spinning you around to face him. One hand presses against your lower back, the other at your face. A smirk plays on his lips as he reads the defiant expression on your face. He knows you’re lying.

“You were jealous.”

“So were you,” you manage to say back.

Cassian hums in what can only be agreement. A thumb reaches out to brush your lower lip, the same way he did your first night in Summer, and then he’s replacing his thumb with his lips. The way he wanted to that night. His kiss is anything but gentle. It’s pure heated desire–one that has been simmering for years. You kiss him back, matching his urgency and he groans, allowing both of his hands to cup your face as his lips mold perfectly against yours.

He pulls away, his hands still cradling your face as his gaze burns into yours. “You want to orgasm tonight? I can give it to you.”

A thrill runs down your spine and your wings shudder. You should push him away. Cassian is your friend. A friend… who is offering to give you an orgasm with a very promising look at this very moment. Though your heart tells you not to, that you might end up hurt after this, there’s that singing in your chest again. Give in.

“You sound so confident.”

His eyes darken as his legs push against yours, walking you both to your bed. The back of your knees meet your bed and you give in, allowing yourself to fall onto the soft sheets behind you. You land on your elbows and push yourself even further up on your bed until your back meets your headrest.

“Don’t test me, baby,” he purrs, watching the way your thighs clench in response to the new nickname. It makes his cock harden in his pants. “I can have you screaming all night long.”

“Lay it all on me,” you reply, heart be damned.

Cassian wastes no time in stripping himself of his clothes, lust filled eyes fixated on you. His hard cock springs free and your eyes widen because yes, you’ve seen him before but not like this. Not when he’s hard and leaking and it’s all for you. He pumps himself, licking his lips, as your arousal floods his senses before easing himself onto the bed.

He slips your heels off and discards them. His hands caress their way up your legs and the roughness of his hands, weathered by many battles and challenges, feels heavenly against you. As his hands make their way higher, they begin kneading at the soft flesh of your thighs, dragging your dress up along with his movements. He groans at the thin lace that greets him, pressing his lips against your clothed core.

“You’re so fucking wet.”

“Well, you did catch me in the middle of something promising earlier…”

Cassian growls at your words, a wave of possessiveness taking over him. “Yeah? Well, by the time I’m done with you, it will be my cum dripping out of this pretty pussy.”

He’s tugging at your underwear, hastily dragging it down your legs. With a devious smirk, he grasps your hands and places them over his hair.

It’s the only warning he gives you before diving right in and setting you alight with his mouth. His nose brushes against your clit as he begins to fuck you with his tongue. “Do you know how often I thought of this? Of tasting you.”

You want to tell him you’ve thought of this too but you’re too lost in the pleasure of his mouth. All you can do is moan and it spurs him on, urging him to bring you closer to your release. “I can only imagine how good I’ll feel inside you.”

His words, a promise of what is to come, is your undoing. You’re squirming beneath him, back arching off the bed as you thread your fingers through his hair. A string of curses leaves your lips when he presses multiple kisses to your clit, overwhelming you in such a delightful way.

Cassian pulls away, mouth glistening with your release as he grins and your heart flutters. He crawls his way up your body, replacing his tongue with his fingers, reveling in the way they easily slide in. His lips slot over yours in a sloppy and heated kiss. When he slips another finger into you, you’re moaning into his mouth. His tongue dances with yours, wrestling for dominance that you ardently submit to.

“Please, Cassian,” you’re begging when his lips leave yours and his cock twitches at the pretty sounds that follow after. Another wave of white hot pleasure crashes over you and he groans, loving the way you're clenching so tightly around his fingers. “I need you.”

Cassian slips his fingers out of you, placing his hands at your hips to flip the both of you over. He adjusts you to straddle his lap, gaze burning into you with need. “Show me.”

“But let’s get rid of this first.” His fingers toy with the slit of your dress. “I need to see all of you.”

You nod, fingers reaching behind to undo the laces of your dress. The sound of fabric ripping reaches your ears before you can undo the first knot and cool air caresses against the newly exposed skin.

“Cassian!”

“That’s my name, baby,” he grins at you, expertly unclasping your bra and throwing it behind you along with the torn dress.

“That wasn’t my dre–oh.” Your protest dies at your throat, eyes fluttering shut as he takes your breasts in his hands, kneading the soft flesh and pressing them together. The torn dress you borrowed from Mor is long forgotten, stored away in the back of your mind. The same way you stored away all your reservations. The desire that’s been consuming you is too much for you to think through reasonably so you succumb completely into it, knowing there will be consequences to deal with later.

It’s almost embarrassing how much Cassian has thought about this, especially after the tease you gave him in Summer. His desires had gone beyond wanting to kiss you that night. He wanted to see, feel and taste every part of you. To hear you moaning and screaming just for him. Now, that you’re completely bare before him, he can look, feel and taste all he wants. And he plans to bask in every second of your warmth.

“So fucking beautiful,” he breathes, leaning in to take a breast into his mouth, tongue swirling around your hardening nipple with burning hunger. Your hands find purchase in his hair again as you arch yourself further, grinding against him. Lewd moans escape from both of you when the tip of his cock brushes against your sensitive clit. Cassian dives for your neck next, pressing hot open mouthed kisses everywhere he can.

“Come on, baby girl. Show me how much you need me and ride me.”

Aligning yourself with him, you slowly sink down onto his cock, savoring the burn from the stretch. His fingers run up and down your sides before settling onto your hips. Eyes fluttering shut at the sheer intensity of your warmth, he can’t help but thrust up into you, fully sheathing himself inside you. His head tilts back when you begin to move and he releases a deep groan.

It’s when your thighs start to tremble and wings flare out that he takes over. He hugs you tightly, arm wrapped around your waist while his other hand rubs at your clit. While he pants and groans against your neck, you’re crying and screaming out his name. He plants his feet on the bed and thrusts ruthlessly up into you over and over again until you both reach your high, wings flaring out.

As Cassian stirs in bed, a cool emptiness greets him, replacing the warmth he expected. Blinking his eyes open, he finds the spot beside him empty. You're gone. The lingering trace of your sweet scent is the only evidence of what transpired between you both. Fuck. Apprehension weighs down on his mind in your absence, threatening to sicken his stomach. He needs to talk to you.

After freshening up and slipping into the spare clothes he keeps at your place, his determination to find you takes hold. It's as if he can sense the storm of emotions within you—guilt, anxiety, and fear. There’s an inkling in his mind as to where you are. He knows you so well. A soft smile graces his lips when he spots you on the training grounds of the house of wind, unleashing powerful strikes on a punching bag.

Your hair is gathered into a carefree bun, and today, you've traded your usual leathers for leggings and a sports bra. You’re a vision of strength and beauty and as loose strands of your hair dance in the breeze, Cassian finds himself lost in the realization of just how deeply in love with you he is.

He lands softly, fighting the urge to frown when he notices the immediate tension in your body from his presence. He hesitates, his throat bobbing as he looks at you, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "Can we—"

"No, let me talk first," you interrupt with a deep sigh as you turn to face him.

"But I had something to say first," he insists with a slight shake of his head.

“I have something more important to say."

Cassian crosses his arms, challenging your claim. "My something is more important than your something."

“I love you.”

The words hang in the air and as the weight of your confession sinks in, a wave of fear grips you. You're certain you've just shattered any hopes of a remaining friendship with him. Because after last night, there's no way you can keep going on as a friend when you want to be so much more. The silence becomes maddening, and suddenly, you can't hold it any longer.

“I love you so much it hurts,” you admit with a trembling breath, tears welling in your eyes. “Because I want your every smile, your every laugh, but above all, I want your heart and–and I’m sorry for–”

“Oh, y/n,” Cassian interrupts with a chuckle.

The sound makes you go weak and you’re absolutely mortified. He rarely ever calls you by your name. He’s about to break your heart, the very thing you’ve been fearing since the realization of your feelings. The urge to run away grips you, but your feet remain planted. You lack the strength to escape the moment. Tears flow freely down your face, and your wings sag behind you, unable to bear the weight of vulnerability.

“You’ve had my heart from the start.”

Slowly, you lift your gaze. Hazel eyes bore into yours, the golden flecks glimmering at you. “What?”

He steps closer to you until he's standing right in front of you. His hands cradle your face as he wipes at your tears. “I’ve loved you for years. I thought I made it pretty obvious, especially after last night.”

“Not obvious enough,” you remark with a huff but there’s a playful and affectionate undertone in your voice.

“I could remind you again?”

"Please."

A radiant smile breaks onto Cassian’s face, and the warmth in his eyes washes away any doubt that may have lingered in your heart. Something within you flutters madly against your ribs. All these years…the teasing, the flirting, the lingering touches. They all meant something to him, the same way it did for you. You’ve loved him and he loved you back. So many years wasted, yearning and pining for one another. As you gaze into each other’s eyes, so many unspoken words are said and there’s a shared understanding that you’re not wasting another moment.

Rhysand raises his cup of coffee to his lips, the rich aroma swirling around him as he catches a glimpse of Cassian, carrying you over his shoulder, with an eagerness he’s familiar with. He then glances over the rim of his mug at Azriel, seated across from him at the breakfast table.

"Do you think they know?"

Azriel snorts in response. "Doubt it. I think you should tell them."

“No.” Rhysand's lips curve into a smirk. "Let's see how long it takes them to realize that their mating bond has snapped into place."

“We should probably head out.”

“Good idea,” Rhysand replies with a nod of his head.

In the blink of an eye, the sentient house packs the remnants of their breakfast for them to enjoy elsewhere. Without a moment's delay, they make their way to one of the balconies. Their wings gracefully unfurl behind them, catching the morning sunlight that bathes them in a golden glow.

As they soar away, you and Cassian remain blissfully unaware of the invisible thread that has silently bound your souls together for years.

tagging: @historiaxvanserra

a/n: I always wanted to write a fic where a mating bond has snapped but neither of them have a clue because they already loved each other, might be a bit unrealistic but 🤷‍♀️ I came across this bibble meme while writing this and it reminded me of both reader and Cas in some aspects. Since I couldn't think of an embarrassing nickname, I went with Bibble and so now the cute little character is canon in Prythian in this lol.

if you want more background info on reader and cas: click here

Other things that I included in this part:

This scene from Vampire Diaries.

also, this tiktok.

#cassian x reader #cassian x y/n #cassian imagine #cassian x you #cassian fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #acotar x you #acotar fanfiction #acotar cassian #cassian smut #acotar smut

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inkedinshadows · 1 year ago

Text

What Truly Matters

Pairing: Azriel × reader

Summary: After the war, Y/N has fallen into an unhealthy routine of training and pushing everyone away. But Azriel had enough of it and wants to know why she's doing it.

Warnings: angst, language, mention of child death

Word count: 4.5k

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Sweat was dripping down her forehead, and Y/N took just a moment to wipe it away with the back of her hand before she got back into position in front of the target and started training again.

During the war with Koschei, the Illyrians had suffered substantial losses. Their victory felt almost like a defeat, and Rhysand had been trying to get them back on their feet since. Y/N was stationed in one of the camps with Azriel to help him do just that, though she had no idea why. As if being female wasn't enough, she wasn't Illyrian. She wasn't even a warrior, for that matter. She didn't understand why Rhys thought she might help. He must've known the Illyrians were only going to sneer and laugh at her.

But she didn't mind. Staying at the camp meant she could train all day. To get better, stronger, faster. So that what had happened during the war would never happen again. She'd fallen into the habit of arriving at the training ring before dawn and leaving after twilight. It helped take her mind off things.

She swung her sword at the dummy target, aiming for its chest, then arms, then head, just like Cassian and Azriel had shown her. She did it again, over and over. Her breaths came in sharp pants, but she never stopped.

She knew Azriel was watching her. He always was these days, but she always ignored it. She ignored him, just like she ignored all her friends and anything that didn't involve physical exercise.

“Y/N.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Azriel take a step forward. She didn't even look his way as she kept hitting the target.

“Take a break,” he said. She'd heard him use that tone before with the Illyrians. It wasn't a suggestion; it was an order.

Too bad she didn't answer to him.

“I don't need one.” Her words came in between one lunge and the next, her eyes never leaving the dummy.

“You do need one.” Azriel stepped even closer but still kept his distance. “You're going to hurt yourself if you keep pushing like that. Your body needs to recover. You need to rest and eat.”

Y/N gritted her teeth as the next hit reverberated along her arm. Her limbs were sore, yet she welcomed the pain. “I don't. My body is fine.”

Azriel spoke again, something about her unhealthy habits and how she should stop. She did no such thing, and instead put even more effort and strength into her blows.

“You're distracting me.”

He was close enough now that his shadows pooled at her feet, sliding up her legs as if they could stop her. She glared at them for just a second before resuming her movements.

“Do you think I can't see what you're doing?” Azriel’s voice was cold as ice, colder than she'd ever heard. “You're punishing yourself because you think you deserve it. But you're just going to collapse if you don’t stop. Are you trying to die or something?”

“Maybe.”

The word was out before she even realized it. But there it was: the truth, now out in the open. The thought that had been lingering in the back of her mind for months. That maybe she did deserve to die for what she'd done. Or rather, for what she'd failed to do.

She finally looked at Azriel then. She saw the shock on his face, the hurt in his eyes. His shadows retreated back to his side as if even they couldn't stand the truth she'd revealed.

Unable to bear the sight any longer, Y/N wiped her sweat away again, tightened her grip on the hilt, and went back to jabbing, hitting, lunging.

She suddenly stopped mid-blow, her sword raised, the tip just a few inches from Azriel's neck. He'd stepped in front of her faster than she could see and didn't even flinch when her blade almost cut through him.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” she yelled, her arm falling back to her side. “I could've killed you!”

Azriel didn't look bothered. Whether it was because he knew she'd be able to check that swing or because he would have stopped it himself if she hadn't, she couldn't tell.

“What do you mean, ‘maybe’?” he asked instead. “Do you really believe you need to punish yourself like this?”

She snapped then. “So what if I do? Why do you care? Shouldn't you be overseeing the Illyrians?”

Hurt flashed in his eyes and his jaw set. “You know damn well why I care, Y/N.”

She might know, but she didn't care. Couldn't bring herself to, not anymore.

“What I know is that you should go back to do your job.” She stepped around him to position herself in front of the target again. “And let me do my thing.”

Azriel gripped her elbow, forcing her to turn around and face him. “You're not doing ‘your thing’,” he growled. He was getting angry now. Good. “You've let your training become an obsession. You never stop. You barely sleep. You barely eat. You're hurting yourself, Y/N.”

He was right, and she knew it. But why couldn't he understand? Why couldn't he let her go so she could go back to training? But despite her effort of freeing her arm, his grip didn't loosen.

“So you've noticed things. Congratulations, you're good at your spymaster job.” She bared her teeth at him. “Now let me go, Azriel.”

“No.” His voice was firm and low. It was the voice of the feared Shadowsinger of the Night Court. Y/N might have flinched, if she'd only cared about it. “You're pushing yourself beyond your limits. And you want me to stand by and let you continue like this?”

“Yes, that's exactly what I want you to do. Consider it a favor, an order, a command. Whatever you want as long as you do.” She tried to yank her arm free once more and when she couldn't, she glowered up at him. “Because you know what the alternative to training is?”

He didn't answer, but she noticed the tic in his jaw, the way his brow furrowed for just a second. He was trying to figure it out.

“Did you know,” she started slowly, “that they don't let females buy alcohol here? Especially if they're not even Illyrian. So it's either training or sex, Azriel.” She raised an eyebrow, staring right into his eyes. She stopped struggling against his grip. She knew she was being a bitch, and that none of this was his fault. Just like she knew her next words were going to hurt him, and yet she said them anyway. “Would you prefer that? Would it make you feel better if instead of training, I'd let every Illyrian in this camp fuck me?”

She could tell the exact moment her words struck home. Azriel froze. He went completely, utterly still. Even his shadows halted their usual swirling around his body and wings. But his eyes… She might as well have been staring at rage itself.

“Don't you dare,” he said. His icy tone, so at odds with the anger burning inside him, would send wiser people running from him. But Y/N wasn't exactly being wise right now.

“It's your choice, Azriel.” His grasp on her arm tightened so much it almost hurt, but the slight pain was a welcomed friend. “What will it be? Training or fucking?”

He was silent for a long minute, his eyes locked on her face. And for a moment, she could see it: the Spymaster, the Shadowinger, the one whose sight was enough to frighten people.

They were both aware of what Illyrians would do to her if she sought them out willingly. To them, she was little more than an object, and they'd stayed away so far only out of fear of Azriel's wrath. But if she was the one who approached them, things would be different. Y/N didn’t have any particular desire to let those brutes anywhere near her, but if Azriel was going to take away her training and she wasn't allowed to drink… she had to find another way to either feel something other than grief and guilt, or to numb everything.

“No one is allowed to touch you,” Azriel said through gritted teeth, as if struggling to control his rage. “I won't let them touch you.”

Y/N bit her tongue to keep quiet. A part of her, the one that was hurting and just wished for relief, wanted to lash out and tell him to fuck her himself if no one else was allowed. But another part of her, the one that still cared, knew she couldn't cross that line. She was acting like a spiteful bitch, but she still had limits. She wouldn't hurt Azriel more than she already had.

“Then let me train,” she replied instead. “Let me go, move aside, and let me finish what I was doing.”

“Over my dead body.”

They stared at each other, his hand still on her elbow, hers still holding the sword. She had to find a way to make him leave. She didn't even know why he was still there, still not giving up. She'd pushed everyone else away in the last few months: Elain, Nesta, Rhys… even Feyre and Cassian. All of them. And yet, Azriel was still here.

“Is this because of the children?”

Her heart stopped. Her body froze. Memories flooded her mind: screams and blood and cries; unanswered prayers, ignored pleas and evil laughs.

Suddenly, she moved, too swiftly for even Azriel to react. Yanking her arm away, she stepped back, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Don't,” she spat. “Don't even mention the children.”

Azriel's shoulders slumped as he realized what was going on. His anger seemed to disappear, and his gaze softened as he took a step forward. But she couldn't bear the pity in his eyes and retreated a step. She'd much rather face his rage than his pity.

Azriel's voice was calm and collected when he spoke again. “I know you're hurting. But this is madness, Y/N. Why are you doing this?”

“Because…” she started, her voice still loud with anger. But just the mention of the children left her feeling drained. Empty and spent, she stared at him without really seeing. There was nothing left inside her but an overwhelming void she had no idea how to fill.

“It should have been me,” she whispered in a flat voice. “It should have been me, Az.”

Her sword clattered to the floor and the cold ground bit at her knees as her legs gave out. Azriel was there in an instant, crouching before her and placing his hands on her shoulders.

“It was the only thing Rhys asked me to do,” she murmured. A sob shook her and tears followed short after. All the tears she hadn't shed since it happened were now flowing like a tidal wave. She didn't care if anyone passing by could see her. “To protect those children and lead them away from the battle. But I failed, and now they're all dead. Because of me.”

“Y/N–”

“The only thing, Az.” She shook her head, her eyes closed. “And I failed him. I failed them. I failed their families. I failed everyone.”

His grip on her shoulders tightened, and then it was the only solid thing as the world turned into shadows and wind. When she looked up, she realized Azriel had winnowed them away from prying eyes and into the cabin they shared at the camp.

“It's not your fault, Y/N,” he said gently. “No one blames you for it.”

“I do.” She pushed away from him, though she didn't try to stand up. Her legs were too sore from all the exercise, and now that she'd stopped and the adrenaline of training had worn off, it would take a while for her body to work the way she wanted it to.

“It's my damn fucking fault and you know it. Everybody knows it, and yet no one acknowledges it.” Anger surged once more and she almost screamed. “No one! Not even Rhys!”

Azriel’s eyes remained soft, his voice still gentle. “Because we know there was nothing you could do, Y/N.”

She couldn’t bear it, that pity. She wanted him to get mad at her, to yell and scream at her and give her the confrontation she needed.

“Nesta took out the soldiers all by herself,” she retorted. “Five soldiers. All by herself.”

“Nesta is a Valkyrie. She has more–”

“More training and experience,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes. “She had the element of surprise and all that. Can people stop repeating that already?”

Cassian had told her. Rhys had told her. Nesta herself. Yet it didn't change the simple fact that when those soldiers had found Y/N and the children, they caught her so off guard she barely had time to draw her blade before they seized her. And then made her watch as they killed the children. They were getting started on her when Nesta found them. Too late. Or too early, by then. A few more minutes, and Y/N would have died too. At least she wouldn't have had to live with that guilt and pain.

“I thanked her, you know,” she added in a whisper, meeting Azriel’s eyes. “Nesta. I thanked her when she saved me. But I didn't mean it.”

Realization dawned on him, and she didn't resist when he pulled her to him. She allowed herself to be enveloped in his arms, and in that moment, with just the two of them, she let go.

Azriel caressed her hair, unfazed by her sweat or the tears soaking his clothes as she cried into his chest. “Shhh,” he whispered in a soothing voice. “It wasn't your fault, sweetheart. Why do you keep punishing yourself like this?”

Deep down, a part of her knew he was right. That even if she'd got the chance to fight back against those soldiers, she wouldn't have been able to take down more than one and the others would have gotten to the children anyway. It didn’t make it any easier though.

“Do you know how old the oldest child was? Did Rhys tell you?” Her voice was muffled by her sobs, her face pressed against the crook of his neck. She continued before he could answer. “He was nine, Az. Nine. The same age my brother was when he…” She trailed off, unable to say the words even after more than a century.

She swallowed in an attempt to calm down and lifted her head to look at Azriel again. “What I'm trying to say is, I know what kind of pain their deaths brought to their families. And knowing I was the reason for it… it's just… it’s too much.”

A flicker of anger sparked in his eyes. “You know what kind of pain it brings,” he echoed. “So why push yourself until you collapse? Why would you bring that same pain upon your own family?”

“You know my family doesn't care if I live or die,” she retorted, her voice a bit sharper.

Azriel clenched his jaw. “Not your parents, Y/N,” he growled. “Your real family. Cassian would be crushed. Feyre broken. Even Amren. And… and me.” There was a vulnerability now in his voice that she'd never heard before. “I would care. I would be devastated. Not just as your friend, but… No, not just as your friend.”

She could only stare at him. Her real family. Not the one she was born into, but the one she'd chosen. The one that had chosen her back. How could she ever forget that?

Cassian, Feyre, Rhys, Nesta, Elain, Mor, Amren. All of them.

Azriel. Did he know?

Not just as your friend.

He probably did. But it didn't matter now.

She had pushed them all away. Because it was easier than accepting that they were right, that there was nothing she could have done to save those children. It was easier to stay away than to see their faces and know they weren't angry at her for failing, when she couldn't forgive herself.

“I'm sorry.” Another sob tore through her as she hugged Azriel. “I'm so sorry, Az… you're my family. I don't know why I lost sight of that.”

His hand drew soothing circles on her back. “Grief and guilt can do that,” he said softly. “They make you forget who you are and what truly matters… who matters.”

Azriel rested his chin on top of her head. They stayed like that for what could have been hours. Y/N kept crying all the tears she'd bottled up since the war until she was spent and her eyes stung, but never once did Azriel’s embrace falter. He held her through it all.

“Do you think they can forgive me?” she eventually asked.

“Yes,” he answered without hesitation. “I know they will. They're your family, Y/N. They're just worried about you.”

She lifted her head then, looked in his eyes and found concern staring back at her. “Can you forgive me?”

“Y/N, sweetheart.” Azriel cupped her cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the last of her tears. “Of course I can. I already have.” He smiled, and it started to heal something inside her. “Just promise me you won't push us away again. Let us, let me, help you.”

Y/N closed her eyes and took a deep breath before nodding. Azriel was right. She couldn't keep pushing away her friends, her family. And maybe she'd never get to the point of not blaming herself for the death of those children, but with some help she could learn how to live with the guilt.

“Good. That's the Y/N I know.”

She looked at Azriel again, only to see that soft smile still gracing his lips. She’d always loved that smile.

Azriel stood up and offered her his hand. She took it immediately and let him help her up. And then she realized there was a small smile on her own lips, the first one in months. Since the children.

“Now, will you let me cook you something?” Azriel let go of her hand and turned around toward the small kitchen counter. “You need to start eating healthy again.”

Y/N appreciated his thoughtfulness, but she still found herself saying, “I thought it was the other way around.”

“What was?” he asked with a glance, his focus already on this new task. Tendrils of shadows were spreading around as if eager to contribute.

She didn't know why she'd said that. Maybe she could still change the subject or come up with some other stupid answer. And yet she couldn't stop the words already on her tongue. “Isn't the female supposed to be the one offering food to her mate?”

Azriel turned to her then. His face seemed a bit paler than before. “You know.”

She smiled. A real, full smile as she nodded. “If I hadn't known already, you kind of gave it away earlier. ‘Not just as your friend, but…’?” She shrugged. “It was pretty obvious, to be honest.”

He still looked a little wary, though. “How long have you known?”

“Since last spring.”

“That was more than a year ago.”

Y/N cocked her head. “So how long have you known?”

“Just a couple months.” Azriel's gaze bore into her. “Why didn't you say anything a year ago?”

This was not how she had imagined this conversation to go. Not in a cabin in a war camp lost in the Illyrian mountains. Definitely not after months during which she hadn't allowed herself to feel anything beyond grief and guilt until she was drowning in them. But she was glad that the truth was finally coming to light, no matter how unexpected it was.

“I wanted to, Az, trust me. But I didn't know how, and… a part of me hoped you'd want me regardless of the bond.” Y/N sighed and she shook her head, as if to chase away her thoughts. “But the war started soon after that, and everything happened, and I just… I shut everything out. Even the bond.”

“Y/N.” He closed the space between them and took her hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze. His eyes were soft, his tone gentle. “I've wanted you for a long time. Long before I even knew you were my mate.”

She hadn't seen that coming. Azriel wanted her? And he had for a while, apparently. “Why didn't you say anything then?” she questioned without even trying to hide her surprise.

“Because I was afraid it'd ruin our friendship.” The vulnerability in his voice made her brace herself for what he might say next. “That you might not… love me the way I love you.”

Her heart was pounding and she could only stare into his eyes. He loved her. There'd been a time when hearing him say those three little words was everything she hoped for. But he didn’t think she loved him back. Well, she couldn't really blame him for it. Not after how she'd been acting lately.

Y/N let the wall she'd erected around the bond come down. She let her feelings flow toward Azriel’s end of it. She held back her pain and her guilt and her grief, but the love she'd pushed down and refused to acknowledge for months flooded the mating bond.

It was met halfway by Azriel’s love.

She shuddered at the intensity of it all. After all the time feeling barely anything, it was almost overwhelming. Y/N welcomed it in her soul and let it wrap around the broken pieces of her heart.

Azriel's smile was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. “Does that mean you will accept the bond?”

She nodded, smiling as well and holding his hands a bit tighter. “Of course I will,” she answered. “But not now. I want to get better first. To learn how to cope with all this guilt. And then I'll cook you anything you want.”

He seemed surprised and for a moment Y/N thought he might not understand her decision. But then he cupped her cheeks. “That's very wise,” he murmured, leaning in to brush a kiss on her forehead. “You can take all the time you need, sweetheart. I'll be with you every step of the way.”

She hugged him tightly, with no intention of letting him go anytime soon. New tears swelled up in her eyes, but she tried to hold them back this time.

She'd ignored her feelings for Azriel and their mating bond as an additional way to punish herself, but a part of her also believed she didn't deserve him after her failure. But now… maybe it had all been a huge mistake after all.

Azriel wrapped her in his arms and wings, his chin resting on the top of her head as his scent enveloped her. Night-chilled mist and cedar. As familiar as her own, if not more. It soothed her, made her feel safe. It was a beacon toward the light, toward home, after months lost in the darkness.

“You know, I should thank Rhys,” she whispered after a few minutes.

“Rhys?” Azriel pulled back to look down at her, confusion clear on his face and in his voice. “For what?”

“Well,” she started with a little shrug, “we all know you don't really need my help with the Illyrians. I'm kind of useless. And I doubt I'm here so I can train till I pass out.” She gave him an apologetic look before she went on. “I think Rhys sent me here because of you. Because he knew that if there was someone who could help me, it'd be you, Az.”

Azriel thought it over, but she could see he was inclined to believe it too. “Do you think he knows we're mates?”

Y/N frowned. “I don't know. I never told anyone.”

“Me neither.” He shook his head. “But you're right. We'll thank him when we go back to Velaris.”

“Hopefully soon,” she muttered with a sigh. “I have a lot of apologizing to do.”

Azriel caressed her cheek, forcing her to look at him. “They'll forgive you, Y/N. What matters to them is that you get better. I can promise you that.”

It was her turn to bring her hands up to his cheeks and gently cup them. She was so grateful to have him at her side. “I'm glad it's you,” she said, her voice soft. “I'm glad you're my mate, Az.”

His smile lit up his whole face. He slowly leaned in, and she held her breath as he brushed his lips against hers. It wasn't exactly a kiss, more like the promise of one, but it was enough to leave behind a tingling sensation when he pulled back.

“And I'm glad you are mine, Y/N,” he murmured, smiling down at her. “But now you should really eat something. Go take a bath, maybe, and food will be ready when you come back.”

Y/N chuckled as she took a step back. “That's why you didn't kiss me? Because I stink?”

Azriel's eyes widened, but he quickly relaxed again. He looked relieved that she was trying to joke. It was a step toward getting back to her usual self.

“I did not say you stink. But you've been training all day and you're all sweaty,” he answered, continuing before she could reply. “And I didn't kiss you because I know that if I start… I might never want to stop.”

She studied him for a moment, her brow furrowed. “I'm not sure I believe you, but that's a better reason for sure.” Y/N left a light kiss on his cheek. “Thank you. For everything.”

Azriel was already shaking his head. “You don't have to thank me. Not for helping you. I'll always do it gladly.”

“And that's exactly why I'm thanking you, Az.” She smiled, brushing his hand while she turned to walk out and toward the bathroom.

The path ahead might be full of obstacles and setbacks, and she wasn't foolish enough to believe she could wake up tomorrow without feeling guilty, but she had Azriel to help her now. The rest of her family as well, once she apologized and explained why she'd shut them out.

More importantly, she was willing to let them help and to heal. She was tired of feeling this way and wanted to get better. For her own wellbeing, sure, but also to give Azriel the best version of herself because he deserved no less than that.

And when she was ready, she'd accept the mating bond and they'd start their life together.

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x y/n #azriel × reader #azriel fanfic #angst #fluff #sjm #acotar #hurt/comfort #fanfic

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fernwehreader · 3 months ago

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ACOSF Bonus Chapter: Lit Analysis

This will be long, and I apologize in advance. But I continue to see the most mind-boggling interpretations of Azriel's ACOSF bonus chapter, that it’s impossible for me to keep quiet. If I see one more take that this chapter is unimportant, an indication of Elain's book being next, or how it's setting up an Elain and Azriel relationship, I fear I may lose my mind.

In my opinion, Azriel’s ACOSF bonus chapter is a crucial piece in the bridge to ACOTAR 5 (which will be Azriel's book). When I teach my high school students to analyze literature, I stress the importance of asking the question, "SO WHAT?" This helps to understand the purpose of the text and potential authorial intent.

So, I'd like to go through that exercise a bit with the bonus chapter (primarily for my own benefit) to underscore the critical elements of its structure and what SJM may be trying to do with it.

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"SO WHAT?" #1: The bonus chapter is meant to introduce Azriel's POV and set up his arc for the next full-length ACOTAR novel. This chapter is the first time we get Azriel's perspective -- a deliberate choice that signals something important to the reader. He is stepping out of the shadows (ha!) literally and figuratively to make the transition away from being a side character.

For the first time, SJM is deliberately shining a spotlight on Azriel to show that he, too, is fractured and facing his own crossroads. The bonus chapter offers a glimpse into Azriel's internal conflict to communicate that he has a story to tell.

I see comments within the fandom that are critical of Azriel in this chapter regarding his re-gifting of the necklace, how he views Elain as an object he is owed, or in his attitude during his argument with Rhys. Friends, THAT IS THE POINT. We are meant to see Azriel at an incredibly stark low-point. It not only contrasts what's to come later in the chapter, but it is further establishing that this character is fractured and must now prepare to embark on his own healing journey. And, as part of this, SJM begins to deconstruct the idealized version of Azriel that readers have gotten to know. The brooding and stoic warrior has been "humanized" in a sense -- in the bonus chapter, a confused male in need of personal growth emerges.

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"SO WHAT?" #2: This chapter relies on purposeful authorial intent to present a symbolic shift away from Elain which then foreshadows a future relationship with Gwyn. I know this has been discussed at length within the fandom, so I won't dwell too much on it here. But I will stress that SJM is hitting the reader over the head with the truth that there is nothing sustainable to explore between Azriel and Elain romantically. It is a surface-level, lust-filled, infatuation on Azriel's part, fueled only by the delusion that the "thirds" must be paired up. Azriel is so desperate for a mating bond that his recklessness is in overdrive at this moment. This first half of the chapter is so important because once Azriel leaves Rhys, the reader gets swept away on a pendulum that carries Azriel to a stark tonal shift (and to the House of Wind!).

What I love most about the chapter is what SJM is doing with this pendulum swing between Elain/Rhys and Gwyn/Clotho. The entire bonus chapter is honestly such a rich and interesting example of thematic juxtaposition (if I could, I’d use it in the high school English classes I teach).

EVERYTHING included within this bonus chapter is intentional by SJM when it comes to juxtaposition: the shadows disappearing vs the shadows darting/watching/singing; surface-level lust vs thoughtful emotion and genuine connection; self-loathing vs contentment; selfish taking (“the third”) vs reflective giving (the necklace).

But perhaps most interesting is how Rhys and Clotho are intentional narrative brackets, each following a key emotional beat in Azriel’s internal conflict. Azriel's moment with Rhys could be labelled "rage and responsibility" vs Clotho's scene being about "destiny and discovery." Azriel is confronted by truth (Rhys) and guided by fate (Clotho) . . . Plus, Azriel’s final interaction of this chapter is with the character who literally shares a name with one of the Moirai known specifically for spinning fate. Perhaps Clotho is spinning a new thread for Azriel in this moment -- not commanding his future, but initiating it. And, I can't help but think of all the thread/ribbon/string imagery and metaphors that continue to pile up: Clotho spins the thread of life + the mating bond string that Azriel desperately wants + Gwyn's ribbon cutting (and comment about Azriel being her new ribbon). SJM is juxtaposing Rhys and Clotho as lenses through which Azriel’s internal conflict is reflected and redirected.

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"SO WHAT?" #3: We learn a great deal about Azriel himself in this chapter that makes us invested in what comes next for him. While this could fall under my first point above, I decided to include it separately here because I would certainly want to draw my students' attention to this if we were analyzing the chapter in the classroom. An author can set up a character arc all they want — but if the reader doesn’t care about the character, then it’s pointless.

Many readers love to focus on the necklace and how much drama it will cause for Azriel in the next book. But I argue that it's one of the least important elements of the entire bonus chapter once it's all said and done. I truthfully am inclined to think we may not even see it at all in the next book (except maybe a brief Easter Egg). There is no need for it. The necklace is symbolic, not literal. It doesn't need to appear again to matter -- its entire purpose is fulfilled within the bonus chapter: to reveal Azriel's internal shift. And, as readers, we are meant to feel the signifcant weight of that shift. What does this mean for Azriel? He clearly has many issues to work through still, but he is different at the end of this chapter compared to how we find him at the start.

That shift also acts like a tug on the reader -- almost saying, "Hey! Did you see this? What do you think this means? He's different here, right?!" Because even though it isn't about the necklace, the necklace is reason for the final scene of this chapter, which really drives home this last "SO WHAT?" analysis.

In my opinion, Clotho's scene is the most important moment in the entire bonus chapter -- not necessarily because of what is said, but because of what's realized. It's where the story stops telling us that Azriel is lost, confused, angry, etc. Instead, the story starts showing us that he's capable of change. How exciting is that?! Azriel is moving from REACTING to CHOOSING. I find it interesting that in the first half of the chapter, Azriel is trying to GET something (approval, validation, what his brother's have). But, in the final scene with Clotho, he is simply faced with a CHOICE. That shift is everything and leaves the reader with a longing to know where that choice will lead him.

The fact that Azriel imagines Gwyn's eyes lighting up (no other person evokes this from him) is the emotional pivot of the chapter. Elain is never described beyond the surface by Azriel. In contrast, Gwyn -- who isn't even physically present in the scene with Clotho -- has the most vivid and emotionally rich moment of the chapter: "He wondered how Gwyn's eyes might light up at the sight of it." This is centered on Gwyn's joy, not his own gratification (a clear and deliberate contrast to his selfish encounter with Elain).

So, essentially, it's not about the necklace anymore. It's about who Azriel is when he thinks about Gwyn. I don't know about you, but when I consider this, I want to know more about where this is going. If this shift occurs after just a brief encounter with Gwyn, what happens if they spend more time together?

--------------------

The entire bonus chapter is, in my opinion, meant to serve as a pivot point for Azriel's characterization as we prepare to spend a great deal of time with him in ACOTAR 5. Azriel is meant to be at his lowest in the beginning of the chapter so the reader can feel the shift by the end . . .

And, although I will save it for another post at another time, I think we can begin to see how Azriel might be working through his issues based on his behavior in CC3. Without getting too in depth, he comes across more open and less guarded, humming, not shying away from physical touch, etc. Everyone will have their own takes on this at this point, but we only have what we have to base our analysis on. Azriel is certainly different in CC3 compared to ACOSF. And this is where I believe his bonus chapter can clue us in a bit. Assuming that ACOTAR 5 will at least partially take place before CC3, we can infer that Azriel is well into his healing journey by that point. That journey also seems likely to include Gwyn and her ability to connect with Azriel in a unique way we haven't seen from other characters. But, who can really say?! We will have to wait and see on this one . . . but my money is that there will be important clues from the bonus chapter and after Solstice in ACOSF that will help bridge us to ACOTAR 5 and how Azriel acts in CC3.

#acotar #acosf #sjmaas #sjm #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #pro gwynriel #gwynriel #gwyn berdara #gwyn x azriel #pro gwyneth berdara #literary analysis #literary criticism #gwynriel supremacy #anti elriel #anti e/riel

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eatsbooks · 2 months ago

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Do you think Azriel would pick the IC over Eris? And if yeah, do you think at some point in the (distant?) future he would pick Eris over them

milllllllion percent. i actually think this would consistently be a huge point of conflict for azris, especially as they are in canon — and one that i do think would have to eventually be a him or them choice. because azriel knee-jerk will pick the ic over eris. (his family, his moral compass, people who he owes his loyalty because they accepted him and love him even though he is undeserving.) eris knows azriel will always choose the ic over him. but the only way for eris to ever feel fully secure in their relationship would be for azriel to choose him, unequivocally. it wouldn’t be enough in concept or promise, and eris wouldn’t be able to accept azriel’s love as anything but conditional until there was a point of opposition and azriel proved his love by choosing him. because eris has never been chosen by anyone. all of the love in his life has been with condition. he needs so badly for someone to show him what it’s like to be first choice, first priority.

what’s fun is yeah, i do think azriel could get to that point! but he would need to be deprogrammed first. cuz the way i see azriel is like … if someone saw the wretched of him and still did not flinch or turn away, if they saw him and still looked at him without judgment — the way eris could — azriel would find so much freedom from the shame he carries through his life. it would be revolutionary. that from eris, coupled with him being openly critical of the ic (while initially met with doggedly loyal level of resistance) would eventually begin to take (guilt-ridden, worldview-shattering) root in azriel.

how is it fair that he is made to bloody his hands when rhysand could so easily look into minds? how is it fair that this is expected of him, even by someone who claims to love him? did he actually have a choice in this? do any of them actually have a choice?

so azriel begins to turn that anger that he’s kept for eris instead towards his family. lashes out more. increasingly distant. still can’t give voice to any of it because he is so guilty to feel this way at all but — with every trip down to the hewn city, he grows more agitated. he begins to see eris as that glimmer of freedom from the rigid morality he has been kept to his whole life. he can just … be as he is, without the trappings of Goodness. the way eris exists and has been condemned for, even and especially by him. the way eris would let him be if he could accept it. at that point, if given the choice between the ic and eris, he’d finally be able to choose eris. again, with guilt and horror and a wrenching sort of feeling in his chest. but he would choose eris. and then eris would never let him go.

#ask #acotar #acotar meta #eris vanserra #azriel #azris #this is like very much how my azris plots go #i just love azriel being freed of the moral shackling of the ic #and i love a bordering toxic We Are All We Have relationship #cuz like damn man they both need that! they need a ride or die! one that is only loyal to them!#they both need to be chosen seen loved #and they are uniquely qualified to see each other and be unwavering loyal to each other #annnnnyway lmao #*azris #*eris #*azriel #*azriel thought exercise

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nocasdatsgay · 2 months ago

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HE IS SO FUCKING MEAN? WHY IS HE CALLING HER BROKEN MF YOUR HANDS ARE BURNT

When I tell you I about spit out my drink and fell out when this notification popped up while I was at work 🤣🤣🤣🤣

Yeah he has a lot of room to be talking shit.

And also. He’s projecting his views of himself but that’s for later

#acotar #azriel #azriel headcanons #Azriel x illryian mate #thought exercise #asks

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multi-fandom-imagines8 · 7 months ago

Text

A Song of Ice & Shadow

Part 16

You can read previous chapters here.

Summary: An unexpected visit from Elain triggers Y/n, leading her to push everyone away again, but Azriel sees through her defenses. She begins to gain partial control over her powers after an emotional outburst and testing a new theory.

Warnings: angst, mention of death, and despair.

WC: 4.2K

The next time Y/n trained with Cassian, her demeanor was colder than usual. She didn’t even greet him, didn’t acknowledge him, she simply resumed her position without a word.

“You’re mad at me?” Cassian asked, his brows drawing together.

“I don’t care about you enough to be mad,” she snapped, glaring at him before returning to her exercise.

Cassian sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry about the other day. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Let’s just train,” she replied curtly, shutting him down. And back to the beginning they went.

Y/n was already in a foul mood that morning, but when Elain came uninvited, it tipped her over the edge. First, she had spoken to Nesta, and that had gone as poorly as expected. Hoping for a better outcome, Elain turned to Y/n. But she was wrong.

When Y/n entered her room and found Elain seated in her armchair, her mood soured further.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice sharp. There were no greetings, no pleasantries, no trace of affection for her younger sister. Y/n saw Elain’s actions when she packed her belongings as a betrayal.

“I came to see you,” Elain said softly.

“Bold of you to assume I want anything to do with you,” Y/n shot back, her tone cutting.

“Y/n, don’t be like that.”

“You’re a traitorous bitch,” Y/n spat. “Nesta and I sat by your side for weeks while you refused to eat or drink. We didn’t interfere. We let you grieve. Gave you all the time you needed. No one seemed to have a problem with that.”

“You and Nesta were indulging in dangerous activities,” Elain argued, her tone hesitant but firm.

“Not eating and drinking are dangerous too,” Y/n retorted. “I just can’t believe you of all people would turn out to be a treacherous snake. All for what? So you can join Feyre’s little circle of clowns who think themselves better than everyone else?”

“You know that’s not true,” Elain protested, tears welling in her eyes.

“Isn’t it? Because the way I see it, the minute you got the opportunity to switch sides, you took it.”

“There are no sides, Y/n. You’re my sister, and I love you.”

“My sister died a long time ago,” Y/n said coldly, her voice barely above a whisper. “She was killed by the King of Hybern when he threw her into that damned Cauldron.” Angry words, full of hurt. Whether she meant them or not, it didn't matter, they already struck their target.

“I-” Elain’s sucked in a sharp breath, tears slipping down her cheeks. “If you thought so, why did you stay by my side after?”

“Because I thought there was a part of my sister left in you. But I was wrong,” Y/n said, her voice trembling with restrained fury. “You’re just like the rest of them now. A High Fae, the very kind I despise.” More poisoned arrows, her tone dripping with hatred. If Elain didn’t leave soon, she didn’t know if she could stop herself.

“You don’t mean that,” Elain whispered, her voice breaking.

“I.mean.every.word,” Y/n enunciated harshly.

“You and Nesta are the same.”

“I’m worse,” Y/n said darkly. “Now leave, I don’t want to see you again.”

Cassian had barely managed to calm Rhys down after Elain stormed out, tears streaming down her face, telling him her sisters weren’t improving, weren’t even trying. She’d spent less than five minutes with either of them and had concluded that. After Rhys and Elain left, Cassian didn’t know where to start and who to talk to first.

From her room, Y/n heard the heated argument between Cassian and Nesta. Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms until they broke the skin. Tiny beads of blood welled up, leaving faint red streaks on her hands.

Unable to stand the confines of her room any longer, she headed to the roof for fresh air. Minutes later, Cassian followed her, his steps heavy with frustration.

“What the fuck happened with Elain?” he demanded, his voice harsh as he crossed his arms.

Y/n didn’t even turn to look at him. “You couldn’t get an answer from Nesta, so now you’re coming after me?”

“They think neither of you are improving.”

“Ah,” Y/n said bitterly, her tone dripping with mockery. “So this was an evaluation of our progress?”

“That’s not what I meant-“

“It’s true, though, isn’t it? And the best part? I don't care. I don’t care what Elain thinks of me, what Feyre, your High Lord, or anyone else does.”

Cassian frowned, his hands dropping to his sides. “You used to go head-to-head with anyone who dared look at your sisters the wrong way. And now this?”

“Things change,” she said coolly. “People change. And it’s not always for the better.”

“Not you,” he insisted, his voice softening. “Not this. There was nothing that could make you turn your back on your sisters.”

“They made their choice. And I made mine.”

“So, what?” he asked, his voice rising slightly. “Now you’re just going to push everyone away like Nesta? Pretend you don’t care?”

“I SAID STOP COMPARING ME TO HER!” Y/n’s voice thundered, and with it, the sky answered. Lightning rippled through the clouds, illuminating the roof as rain began to fall.

Cassian’s eyes widened a bit, his shoulders stiffening. “So you still have your powers?”

“Get out of here, General,” she muttered, her voice eerily calm. “Before I hurt you.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be,” she warned, her eyes glowing faintly as the storm above intensified. “I’m barely containing myself. I need you to leave before I lose control.”

Cassian studied her for a moment longer, his expression torn between concern and reluctant understanding. He realized she wasn’t threatening him but trying to contain the rest of her powers so she wouldn’t hurt him. She was holding back, but the effort wouldn’t last. If she continued suppressing it, she would explode, and he’d be caught in the aftermath. With a heavy sigh, he stepped back and left, casting one last glance over his shoulder before disappearing into the house.

Once he was gone, Y/n exhaled shakily, her fists still clenched at her sides. The storm above rumbled, the rain coming down harder now. She tilted her head back, letting the cold drops hit her face. And then, she let go.

The sky erupted. Lightning flashed across the dark clouds in jagged streaks, illuminating the heavens as thunder cracked violently around her. Y/n stood still, unflinching, as the tempest mirrored the chaos within. For the first time, she didn’t fight it, didn’t try to rein it in. She let her powers surge outward, merging with the storm above.

The release was almost euphoric. The rage, the pain, the frustration, it all poured out of her, feeding the storm. For once, she didn’t fear her power. She embraced it- owned it. She felt untouchable, invincible, as the rain drenched her to the bone, her heart pounding in her chest and her breaths coming fast and shallow.

This power- it was something she had never viewed this way before. No longer something to be restrained or feared, it was a force to wield, to command. It was freeing, exhilarating. Now she finally understood- it was something to die for, and it was all hers.

When the tempest began to wane, her breaths steadied, and the rain slowed, turning into delicate snowflakes.

This time, she did not faint. She had braced herself. She exhaled deeply, the last of her energy ebbing away, leaving her drained but at peace.

That night, as she prepared to sleep, a knock sounded at her door. She groaned softly, tugging her robe tighter around her as she moved to answer. To her surprise, Azriel stood on the other side, his wings tucked neatly behind him.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her tone neutral. Her long braid was half undone, and her transparent robe revealed the nightgown beneath it.

Azriel’s eyes flicked downward for the briefest moment before meeting hers again. “May I come in?”

She hesitated, her hand tightening on the door. After a moment, she sighed and stepped aside, allowing him in. Once he was inside, she closed the door and turned to face him, only to find him standing closer than she expected. She took an instinctive step back as his breath brushed her skin, her pulse quickening despite herself.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice quieter now, unsure.

“I heard about what happened today,” he said, his tone soft.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I’m not in the mood to argue.”

“I haven’t come to argue with you.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I came to check on you,” he said simply, his gaze unwavering. “See how you were feeling.”

Her lips twisted into a faint, mocking smile. “Magnificent.”

“I’m serious,” Azriel said, his voice dropping a notch.

“So am I,” she countered. “I no longer fear my powers. I fully embraced them today, and it felt amazing. Freeing.”

A faint line appeared on his forehead as his eyebrows pinched. “So the thunderstorm was all you?”

She raised a brow. “Do you have them here often?”

He shook his head.

“Then you have your answer.”

“Do you know what triggered it?” he asked, his tone careful, measured.

Y/n’s expression shifted, “Rage, I think. This time it was rage. The other time- times, it was a mix of different emotions. The first time, it was fear. The second, pain. And now, rage.” She paused, meeting his gaze. “But every time, it happened when my emotions were…amplified.”

She hesitated before continuing. “Today, after I let go, I felt in control. At first, I couldn’t stop it, but as it poured out of me, I realized I didn’t want it to stop. The power, it was alluring.”

Azriel studied her carefully, his shadows swirling faintly at his shoulders. “You weren’t scared?”

“Not one bit.”

“Can you summon it now?” he asked after a pause.

She blinked, taken aback by the question. “I…I don’t know.”

“Could you try?” he pressed.

“Why?”

“Don’t you want to know if you can harness it any time you want?” he countered.

Y/n’s expression darkened, a flicker of suspicion crossing her features. “Is that all? Or do you want to see if I am a danger to the people around me?”

“If you were, I wouldn’t ask you to try,” he replied calmly.

“Easy for you to say,” she muttered almost bitterly. “You have your shields and shadows.”

His gaze softened. “I know you wouldn’t hurt the people you care about.”

“That’s not true,” she mumbled sourly.

“Physically, I mean,” he clarified. “Now, could you please show me?”

“But I’m not feeling anything right now,” she admitted, her voice softer.

“Does it matter which emotion it is?”

“I don’t know. So far, it’s been different each time.”

“May I try something?” he asked, stepping closer.

“Like what?” she asked warily, eyeing him.

“Close your eyes,” Azriel instructed and she raised a skeptical brow.

“Just trust me on this,” he said, his gaze fixed on her.

Y/n sighed but complied, closing her eyes reluctantly.

He moved closer, his hand brushing hers before taking it gently in his grasp. She flinched at the contact, but he tightened his hold just enough to stop her from pulling away.

“What are you doing?” she asked, opening her eyes.

“Just trust me,” he repeated, his voice a murmur. “Close your eyes.”

She huffed, her skepticism plain. “I don’t think I can do that while you're holding my hand hostage.”

He snorted at her choice of words, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I won’t bite, I promise.”

She rolled her eyes but closed them again, letting out a resigned sigh. “Alright, you have one chance.” Why she agreed and listened to his instructions, she couldn’t quite explain.

His thumb traced slow, soothing circles over the back of her hand as he stepped behind her. His other hand gently lifted the braid that rested over her neck, letting it fall to one side. The soft brush of his fingers against her skin sent a shiver down her spine.

“What exactly are you trying to achieve here?” she asked, her voice tinged with suspicion. She tried to glance over her shoulder, but he stilled her with a quiet word.

“Now,” he said gently, “picture the most beautiful place you can think of.”

She frowned mildly but followed his instruction. “Alright. Now what?”

“Think of someone you love,” he said quietly.

Her brows knitted together, her expression tightening. “You’re aiming for the wrong emotion,” she said bluntly. “My feelings are… very complicated right now. I don’t even know if I’m capable of love anymore.”

“You are,” he replied firmly, his grip on her hand steady. “I’ve seen it– in the way you love your sisters, even if it doesn’t seem that way right now.”

Y/n said nothing, her lips pressing into a thin line.

Azriel’s tone softened as he added, “But that’s not what I was aiming for. I meant something- someone… more intimate.”

“Like a lover?” she asked dryly.

“Exactly.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t?”

“You’re asking me to think about someone I love,” she began, frowning again, “but if I presumably loved someone in the past and we’re not together anymore, it means I don’t love them anymore. So this doesn’t make sense.”

She opened her eyes and turned to face him, her brows furrowing as she questioned his logic. The motion brought their faces closer than she’d realized, the tip of her nose brushing against his. The unintended closeness startled her, her breath hitching as a rush of heat surged through her. Her heart skipped a beat, the scent of cedar and night-chilled mist filling the small space between them. Her pulse quickened, and she struggled to ignore the pull she felt, the way her body seemed to react on its own.

In that fleeting moment, a jolt of energy sparked between them, crackling at her fingertips and sending a faint shiver up her spine.

Azriel’s gaze didn’t waver, his expression unreadable as the faint crackle of electricity escaped from her fingertips. A flicker of lightning danced across the sky outside, its glow briefly illuminating the room.

“There,” he murmured as he gestured toward the window behind her.

Y/n blinked, the weight of what just happened slowly sinking in. Her heart raced as she turned her face away from him to check. He hadn’t let go of her hand, not that either of them seemed to notice in the moment.

“What did you think of just now?” he asked, his tone careful, though his gaze remained fixed on her.

Y/n swallowed hard, her throat dry. A simple question, yet it felt impossible to answer. What could she say? That it had been him? That the proximity, his presence, had been enough to shatter her defenses and ignite her power? Her pulse roared in her ears, she couldn’t lie to him, but she also couldn’t tell him the truth. So she settled on deflection.

She closed her eyes again, forcing her focus on that feeling, that ripple of power coursing through her. No storm this time, but lightning struck and struck, sharp and controlled. Azriel watched intently as she concentrated, her face set with determination. The temperature in the room dropped noticeably, an eerie calm settling over them.

“Congratulations,” he said quietly. “You seem to be able to summon it at will.” He let out a condensed breath, his shadows flickering subtly around him.

She finally opened her eyes, and the lightning ceased. “I might be able to control it once it’s started,” she admitted, her voice edged with a trace of frustration, “but I didn’t summon it. It just… happened and that’s the part I need to master.”

“Well I am no expert, but I know someone who could help you,” he offered carefully.

“No.” Her reply was immediate and sharp. She stepped back from him, her hand slipping out of his grasp as she put distance between them. “I don’t want anything to do with her.”

“How do you even know who I was going to suggest?” Azriel asked, his tone even but curious.

“You were going to say your High Lord’s second-in-command,” she replied, folding her arms across her chest. “I won’t see her or anyone from your little circle of friends. It’s enough that I’m training with your brother. Don’t push my limits.”

Azriel sighed, the corners of his mouth tightening. “I wasn’t going to. It was just a suggestion.”

“One you knew I’d never agree to,” she countered, her voice thick with irritation. “Yet you still brought it up… you should leave.”

His expression tightened, a faint furrow appearing between his brows. “Are you always so easily irritable?”

She let out a bitter laugh. “I am trying my best to be civil, but you lot don’t make it easy.”

“Is that why you surrounded yourself with all those drug addicts?” Azriel blurted. “Because they couldn’t form two sentences? Couldn’t get to know you?”

Her eyes flashed with anger as she met his gaze. “I surrounded myself with them because they’re as miserable as I am,” she snapped. “We understood each other. And we didn’t need to talk about our feelings. There’s a bliss in forgetting, and all you lot want to do is shove me into a world where everyone is happy and perfect, I despise it- despise them.”

Azriel didn’t interrupt, his face still unreadable as she continued.

“At least with them,” she went on, her voice taut with frustration, ”being around those people you so disapprove of did not make me feel like shit. They didn’t judge me or force me to do anything I didn’t want to. I cannot say the same about your friends.” Her gaze narrowed, anger and vulnerability flashing in equal measure. “And don’t tell me what you’re doing is because you care about me, and that I’m going down the wrong path, and that it’s for my best, blah, blah, blah. I’m not stupid, Shadowsinger. I know what I’m doing.” Her voice broke a bit as she finished, barely above a whisper. “I just don’t have the will to live anymore.”

The room fell into an oppressive silence. Y/n’s chest heaved with the weight of her confession, her gaze fixed firmly on the ground. She refused to meet his gaze, hating how her voice had betrayed her, as her carefully constructed walls crumbled under his quiet presence. She hated it all, every part of it- the way he seemed to see through her, the way he refused to leave, the way he always managed to slip past the barriers she worked so hard to maintain. The way he made her heart soften at times, despite her best efforts. The way, even after she’d pushed him away, he always found a way back it

This day had been long and horrible. She’d just shown Azriel a side of herself that she’d never shown anyone, confessed something she hadn’t even dared to voice aloud before.

“That’s a lie,” Azriel said softly. His tone wasn’t mocking, but firm, yet gentle. “If that were true, you would’ve ended your life.”

Y/n’s shoulders sagged, a long, broken sigh escaping her lips. “That’s where you’re wrong. If I did, everything would stop. I don’t deserve a quick and painless ending.” Her voice cracked once again, and she hated herself for it.

What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she stop? Why couldn’t she push him away this time? Why was she confessing all of this? Stop- she needed to stop.

Azriel’s hazel eyes darkened, his shadows tightening around him. “So you’re punishing yourself?”

She drew in a shuddering breath, then exhaled slowly. “I said enough,” she whispered, a faint tremor in her tone.

Azriel didn’t push further, sensing the thin thread of control she clung to. Instead, he shifted the subject suddenly. “Your theory was right.”

“What?” She blinked in confusion.

“Your powers,” he explained, gesturing toward the window where another crack of lightning lit up the sky. “They’re connected to how you feel. When your emotions are heightened, they manifest.” Her eyes followed his gesture for a moment, her expression hardening slightly as the realization sank in. She hadn’t even noticed this time as the storm raged outside.

She turned her glare on him, her frustration mounting once more. “You did all of this just to test a theory?”

“Not intentionally,” he admitted. “But when I mentioned Amren and saw how irritable you became, I noticed how your powers responded almost immediately. How your body reacted. How your powers slipped past you so easily.”

Her glare sharpened. “So you let me ramble just to see what might happen?”

“No,” he replied immediately, his voice resolute. “You needed to let all of that out. I hope you feel better now.”

“Well, I don’t,” she snapped.

“I’m not your enemy, Y/n,” he spoke softly, his tone unshaken, almost gentle, as he let out a faint exhale.

“You’re not my friend either,” She shot back, the words biting.

“You’re upset,” Azriel acknowledged calmly. “I’ll take my leave, then.” With his hands buried in his pockets and his head dipping slightly, he took a couple of tentative steps backward before turning toward the door.

“So you’re just going to run away?” she demanded, her voice rising.

Azriel stilled mid-step, then turned back to face her. “I’m not... Do- do you want me to stay? If you need someone to yell at, to vent to, I’ll stay.”

“Ugh, you’re insufferable,” she muttered, running her hands through her hair as she began pacing the room. Her frustration was growing with every passing second.

He watched her carefully, his sharp gaze noticing every subtle shift- the way her body tensed, the reluctance to let him in, the struggle within between pushing him away and letting him in, the confusion, and the exhaustion.

“Take a deep breath, Y/n,” he instructed calmly.

He considered reaching out to her but held back, knowing that in her current state, she likely wouldn’t want him anywhere near her. Even though what she probably needed most at that moment was a hug.

She spun on her heel to glare at him again. “Don’t tell me what to do,” she barked.

“Alright,” he said, lifting his hands in surrender. “I’ll just sit here till you’ve calmed down.”

“You’re going to be sitting there a long time,” she hissed, each answer like a snake spitting venom on its prey, her eyes burning with barely contained fury as he nails dug into her palms.

But Azriel did not flinch. He did not move, did not budge. His calm presence was infuriating, steady against the storm she tried to unleash on him, as if daring her to throw everything she had his way.

“That’s fine,” he replied evenly, settling himself in a chair.

Y/n stared at him, her breathing uneven. She wanted to scream at him, shove him out, anything to make him leave. But the fight drained out of her with every breath. “No it’s not. I need you to leave.”

“Why?” he pressed.

“Because I don’t want you here.” She tried to keep herself composed, but the crack in her voice deepened.

“I know what you’re trying to do.”

“I don’t care,” she replied, though her voice betrayed her as it broke entirely.

“You do.”

“Stop- please just leave.” Her words were softer now, her pacing slowing, her body sagging under the weight of her emotions. She was tired. Too tired to fight, to talk, to pretend. Too tired to do anything.

“I will, once I make sure you’re alright.”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, though even she didn’t believe the words.

“You’re far from it, but that’s alright,” Azriel said gently.

Y/n let out a long, shuddering breath, her hands trembling slightly as she finally stilled. “I don’t have the energy to fight you anymore,” she admitted, her tone weary, defeated.

“Then don’t,” Azriel said simply. “Just get some rest.”

How could he be so composed, so calm? She did not let herself think about anything- she could not. Too drained to argue, too exhausted to pretend any longer, Y/n climbed into her bed. Her body felt heavy as she closed her eyes, hoping all of this was just a bad dream.

Azriel stayed, his shadows curling protectively around her as he watched her, almost as if they’re trying to soothe or comfort her. He waited until her breathing evened out and the tension in her features melted away as she slipped into sleep.

The temperature in the room had dropped drastically, the cold biting at his skin. Moving quietly, he crossed to the windows and closed them. Luckily, the house responded, lighting a fire in her room.

“Sweet dreams, Stormbringer,” he murmured, pulling her blanket up to tuck her in with gentle care.

For a moment, he lingered, his gaze fixed on her now-peaceful form. A hint of a smile crossed his face. Then, with a quiet exhale, he turned and slipped out of the room, his shadows following in his wake.

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danikamariewrites · 6 months ago

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Hiding in Plain Sight

Cazriel x reader

Warnings: eating disorder/disordered eating, anxiety, angst, comfort at the end

If reading about Eating Disorders/Disordered Eating makes you uncomfortable please don’t read. Your health comes first.

Azriel stares at you across the table, a worried frown pulling at his lips. He watched you push your breakfast around the plate. His hazel eyes occasionally dart to Cassian, silently begging him to notice that there is something wrong with their mate.

But nothing. Cassian was busy joking with Amren and making sure Elain found it funny that he picked on the ancient being.

There wasn’t much on your plate to begin with. A small scoop of eggs, one piece of bacon, and half of a bagel. Placing your fork on the plate you nudge it away from you. No one would notice that you barely touched your food anyway.

Besides, you had a big dinner last night. There was no need for a big breakfast.

That was the problem with the River House. Every meal was big. And your absence wouldn’t go unnoticed.

The edge of the plate presses against your fingers gently. Looking up from your lap you see a shadow discreetly moving your plate closer to the edge of the table, urging you to eat.

You raise a brow at the shadow before it scurries back across the table to rest at Azriel’s shoulders. Your eyes dart to your mate, briefly making eye contact with him.

You start to fidget nervously feeling the scrutiny of his gaze. Swallowing hard, you stand from the table, excusing yourself to your office for the day.

You were just too anxious. A permanent knot has formed in your stomach over the last week. It feels like your throat closes up on you and you can’t breathe when you try to eat. The only thing you’re able to stomach has been water.

Having Azriel look at you like that had your heart racing in panic. You feel like a burden to your mates at times, especially when your anxiety lasts long periods of time.

Sitting at your desk you take deep breaths, pouring a glass of water. After taking a few sips you get to work, focusing on the needs of the city and keeping your side of the bond closed.

Up in the training ring Azriel’s mind is still on you. Were you not eating again? Or was it just this morning? Last time you struggled with eating it ended you came to them for help. It wasn’t like Cassian and Azriel judged you or thought less of you. They worry about you only because they love you.

Cassian nudges Azriel’s shoulder as he strolls by, leaving the Valkyries to their warm up exercises.

“What’s wrong?” He crosses his arms trying to keep a stoic facade up. Azriel knew Cassian was worried and stressed. He could feel it in his own chest. Knew there were thoughts of you running through Cass’s mind because they echoed in his own.

“I think y/n is struggling again.” Azriel says bluntly, not wanting to dance around the topic as they have before.

Cassian’s jaw muscle feathers. Hurt and anger bubbling in his chest quickly. Azriel lays a gentle hand on his arm to calm him. “Listen,” Azriel growls. “I know how this makes you feel. Angry and powerless, we can’t fight this, only she can. But we can help her.”

Azriel holds the general by his shoulders, forcing Cassian to meet his gaze. “Talk to me Cass.” He inhales sharply, eyes lined with silver as he looks up. “I just…I feel useless to her.” Azriel gently holds Cassian’s face. “You aren’t. We aren’t. I promise, she needs us.”

Deciding to skip dinner, you head straight for your rooms. Exhausted from anxiety making you physically sick.

Opening the door you’re taken aback seeing Cassian and Azriel sitting on the couch. “Oh, Hi my loves.” You put on a fake smile, trying to convince your mates to not ask questions.

Azriel gives you a sad smile, striding across the room to hold you. At his touch you crumbled.

Sobbing into Azriel’s chest he rubs your back in soothing motions. “It’s ok,” he whispers against your temple.

Cassian watches from his spot on the couch. Tears of his own silently sliding down his cheeks. Feeling your anguish through the bond had Cassian wanting to crawl out his skin.

Gods, if this is what you’ve been struggling with on a daily basis you must be stronger than him.

He quickly makes his way across the room, holding you from behind. Cassian presses a long kiss to the back of your head. Scooping you from Azriel he walks you over to bed, cradling you to his chest like you’d cease to exist if he let go.

“Tell me what to do, how do I fix this?” Cassian pleads quietly. You bury your face deeper into his chest, no longer holding your emotions back from your mates. Your shoulders shake as your sobs continue.

Taking deep breaths makes your sobs calm. Sitting up you wipe at your face. Cassian pulls you right back to his chest, needing to hold you.

“I don’t know how to fix this. I can’t make it stop. Every time I think I get better it all comes back worse.”

Cassian looks at Azriel, both males giving each other a pained look. “I’m sorry, sweet pea. I’m so sorry.” Cassian whispers. “We’re here for you. And I swear I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

“We won’t let you face your problems alone, y/n.” Azriel says, pressing a kiss to the back of your head. You reach out to hold his hand.

Settling into your mates’ comforting embrace you focus on clearing your mind. “Thank you,” you say softly. Your mates respond by squeezing you between them. “We love you, y/n.”

“More than you can imagine.”

You curl into them, letting their love reach you through that precious golden string.

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florencemtrash · 1 year ago

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Eleven

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: None. Gwyn and Y/n bond over books. Azriel and Y/n get even closer — this had me kicking my feet and screaming internally and externally

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Rhysand’s training sessions always started with him sliding over ten objects: a book, a piece of jewelry, an article of clothing — anything he could find with meaning for you to discern.

“This one is Mor’s.” You held the red satin box in your hands. Two months ago you would have only been able to tell him who it belonged to. Maybe nothing at all. The meaning held by the object was weak. The jewelry too new. Unworn. But now you could harness your power with more precision, like you’d finally been handed an image of the puzzle you were trying to complete so you knew what to look for. “You bought it two months ago at Cizero’s as a Winter Solstice gift.”

“And what is it exactly?”

The box was still closed.

You pushed your power forward, imagining light slipping in through the seam of the box. An image flashed in your mind. It was blurry, but held onto its form long enough for you to make it out.

“Drop earrings. Rubies,” you said with a straight back before dropping the box into Rhysand’s open palm.

He smirked and clicked it open. Gold banded rubies hung from the backing like bloody tears, each drop separated by a diamond that flashed brighter than the stars in the ever darkening sky.

You dared to smile, staring at the jewelry with a level of satisfaction you hadn’t felt since being handed top marks as an apprentice.

“Very nicely done.”

The box disappeared back into his desk beside a glimmering gemstone the size of your fist wrapped in tissue paper.

It’s probably for Amren. You thought to yourself. Azriel told you she loved shiny things and hoarded her treasures like a crow. Hence why she’d yet to return from Summer with Varian.

You moved on to the next portion of your exercises. With a feather light touch, Rhysand laid his hands on your palms, your wrists, your forearm, your shoulders. He moved up and down your body, waiting a minute for you to control yourself before touching the next flash of exposed skin. It was still difficult to completely contain your power, but you were getting better at moving it around your body. When he reached for your hands, you slid the magic up to your chest. When he reached for your knees, it moved down to your ankles. It was a delicate dance, like the curling of ocean water away from the shore or the splitting of a river around a stone.

You did what you could to experience the touches with a clinical detachment and Rhysand did as well. He was careful. He stopped the moment you let out a gasp of surprise at the feeling of warm skin pressed against your own and there wasn’t an ounce of judgement written in his beautiful features when you trembled beneath his touch.

“Take your time,” he said encouragingly.

For him, touch was a necessary part of life. He always had an arm slung over Cassian’s shoulders or wrapped around Feyre’s waist. He fell asleep with his mate pressed against him and he walked around the River House with Nyx on his shoulders and Velaria curled up in his arms. But there were also mornings when he’d wake up in a cold sweat, the feeling of Amarantha’s red-tipped nails dragging down his chest like she wanted to take more from him than just his body. Those were the days Feyre knew to give him his space.

“Take all the time that you need.”

Rhys stepped away. You steadied your breath and took time to record your progress in the journal you kept close by. Although there was no true way to quantify your learning, your Day Court training never left you and you wrote down what little could be put into words — for posterity’s sake. Then maybe the next Clairvoyant the Mother willed into existence would have an easier time navigating this than you.

Gwyn found you squirreled away in your usual reading room, back bowed over a flurry of books and note pages like a reed in the wind. You reached for the mug on the desk only to find it disappointingly empty. Unlike the River House, the Library did not fuel your caffeine addiction with reckless abandon.

She floated over, abandoning the cart of books she’d been tasked with returning that night. Her legs were throbbing from the split squats Cassian had coached her through that evening, and she was desperate for a break.

“Some light reading, I see?” she teased, sinking into the seat across from you.

You looked up, eyes red-rimmed and swollen. It took a few moments for Gwyn’s shape to come into focus.

“What?” The word slurred coming out of your mouth.

She tapped the ever growing pile of papers beside you. Your manuscript: 120 hand-written pages and counting. When the book became too frustrating to handle, you abandoned it in exchange for another productive task. Even if the 120 pages you’d reproduced were utter garbage.

You groaned, forehead slamming against the wood with a clatter. Thoughts of white blood cells, lymphatic vessels, and innate and acquired immunity knotted in your brain like the world’s worst game of cat’s cradle.

Gwyn would have found it amusing if she didn’t know just how much time you spent within the mountain. You’d effectively been adopted by the priestesses. Lurking here and there like a cat coming in from the cold. And you were just as disapproving as a stray. Gwyn would often catch you among the stacks, mumbling about the disorganization and how you couldn’t work in such paltry conditions.

“Cauldron boil me, I’m sorry for asking.” Gwyn raised her hands in surrender.

You let out a great, heaving sigh. “It’s not you.”

“Oh I know it’s not me. You look like you’ve been dragged through a gutter.”

You blinked wearily at the lovely priestess.

“A very clean, well-managed gutter.” She grinned. Her skin shone, reflecting the pale, fuzzy moonlight that filtered through the window above and doused the library in a silver sheen.

“Thank you, Gwyn.”

“Anytime.” She drummed her nails against the table, the beat of it almost sending you to sleep. “How long have you been here today?” she asked with concern.

“I don’t know. What time is it?”

“After midnight.”

“Oh.”

“How long?” Gwyn repeated and you dragged a hand down your face.

“Seven hours? Give or take?” Your stomach growled.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

Gwyn grabbed you by the end of your robes, tugging you up several floors and down an unfamiliar hallway until you stopped in front of a teal-blue tapestry. Selkies, sirens, and water nymphs dove in and out of rippling waters highlighted by iridescent beads. She flung it to the side and pressed her hand against the bare stone. The slab sank into the wall and then slid open to reveal a cream-colored room adorned with bundles of babies' breath.

“Sit,” she commanded, pointing to the neatly made bed. You swayed dangerously on your feet.

“I’m really fine. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“Sit. Down.” She cut you with a lethal gaze Nesta would be proud of.

You snapped your mouth shut, shuffled across the carpeted floor, and sank into the queen-sized bed. You played with the ties of your robe wrapping them around your finger, then unwrapping them, then wrapping them again.

King Tiberion, third of the Nachmanian line, born Aschieron Cambria Nostrus Tiberion Dalgna to Effel Taul and foreign-born…

Found dead at a young three-hundred-and-ninety-two years of age at the hands of her brother. Spell cleaver or not, Ingrid…

Something like a lock and a key. Magic that’s perfectly complementary might be afforded the unique ability to seal… and break… gods I’m tired…

There have only been seven recorded Shadowsingers in history: Lovania Vallant born 895 in the age of Alders (see ref. 18992HBG Carstairs), Gherald Dashiv born 1459 in the age of —

Gwyn snapped her fingers in front of you, pulling your mind out of the hurricane of thoughts. You were a strange creature. You spoke little, moved about the Library as quiet as a mouse, and you had an interesting habit of running your fingers along every book on the shelf. Back and forth, back and forth you’d run along before jerking to a stop like one of the books had caught you at the end of a fishing lure.

“Are you ok?”

“I’m fine,” you repeated.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Some would say that’s a good thing. It would make me incredibly trustworthy, at least when it comes to responding to things. I’d be terrible at keeping secrets, unless I was very careful about how I went about things. You know how it is. With the things.”

Gwyn huffed with silent laughter and opened one of the cabinets in her small, makeshift kitchen. “Eat.” She commanded again and you were too slow to catch the sleeve of biscuits she tossed in your direction. It bounced off your forehead and landed in your lap. “I’ll be right back with something more substantial.”

The door shut with a puff of air and you were left to chew on the chocolate and orange biscuits in silence.

Gwyn’s room faced the city and you saw the lamplights burning through the windows that had been cut into the mountain rock, mimicking the stars that twinkled overhead like salt poured onto black glass.

Cream satin sheets caught the moonlight until it glowed and you had the sudden urge to tip back and fall into oblivion. You could work for a long while, so long as you didn’t sit still long enough for the exhaustion to catch up to you — which you were doing now.

You shoved another biscuit in your mouth, now almost halfway through the sleeve. It helped settle the hollowness in your stomach so you could pick yourself up and move over to the bookshelf.

Bodice ripper, bodice ripper, murder mystery, bodice ripper, romantic comedy, found family adventure, spy thriller, bod—

Your face went red. Damn.

The priestess chose that moment to return to her room carrying a tray laden with bread, orange slices, and a thick mushroom stew leftover from dinner. She froze, pale cheeks turning a dusty rose as you silently pushed the book back onto the shelf.

“Dragon-born? Really?” You shoved a burning spoonful of stew in your mouth and drowned the stale crust of bread, waiting for it to get sufficiently soggy enough you could chew it.

Gwyn groaned and buried her face in her pillows. “It was a phase.”

“Must have been a very long phase. You have the whole series and I know it took her thirty years to write them all.”

Her head shot up. “How do you know?”

“I read the first book.”

You sat up straighter, back pressed up against the closet that housed her daily robes, ceremonial garb, training gear, and Valkyrie armour.

“So how can you judge me?!”

“It makes no anatomical sense, Gwyn!” You threw your hands up in the air. “She’s four feet shorter than him. He’d sooner tear her in half before giving her any pleasure, and I’m not talking about his claws.”

The priestess scoffed. “Have some imagination, Y/n.”

You huffed and pulled out a notebook from your ample pockets. You both spent the next thirty minutes going through hastily drawn sketches that would have disappointed Feyre to no end testing out your imaginative capabilities. Gwyn couldn’t stop smiling at you as you moved your hands through the air with animated fervor. Half of what you said didn’t make sense, but she would blame it on your sleep deprivation.

You had Gwyn in stitches. The female hung off the bed, red-brown hair brushing the ground as she gasped for breath. You looked like you were sitting on the ceiling, black robes pooled around your knees like shadows.

That sobered Gwyn up a bit. It was a real shame she liked you as much as she did. It made it harder for her to stay mad at Azriel.

And as if you read her mind, you asked, “Why don’t you come around to the River House?”

“What?” She wasn’t laughing anymore.

“Why don’t you come to the River House?” You asked again. “You’re close friends with Nesta. You’re part of the Inner Circle. You have a guest room there, but I haven’t seen you at the house.”

“Do you even spend enough time at the River House to know?”

“Yes.”

Gwyn sighed and straightened up, folding her legs neatly beneath her on the bed. “Some… Some things happened a couple years ago. I won’t bore you with the details and I don’t know if I even have the right to tell you everything, but it’s colored the way the Inner Circle works now.”

“The details are the most important part,” you murmured, “I wish I had more details. Then maybe I wouldn’t feel like such a stranger in that house.”

“You’re not a stranger,” Gwyn reassured you. “Is that why you spend so much time here?” she asked with genuine curiosity.

“Yes and no. It feels closer to home here. Even if your lack of organization has made my job ten times more difficult. I don’t see why you haven’t adopted any kind of classification system. It’s a small library. It would be very easy to implement.” You sighed and rubbed your eyes. Gods, you were tired. The feeling came and went in waves. “I shouldn’t complain though, everyone has been incredibly kind and welcoming. Especially Azriel.”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, fingers fluttering against your shoulders. You tucked your chin into your elbows and tried not to think about that glorious night of sleep with only Azriel and his shadows. Waking up with his chest rising and falling on the floor beside you.

You were falling for him and you knew it. Gods did you know it. Or maybe you could convince yourself you weren’t falling yet, but it was a steady march to the cliff’s edge and you weren’t stopping anytime soon.

Gwyn felt her heart stutter. “Oh? He’s usually so… quiet and… reserved.”

You thought about it for a long while.

“I don’t think he’s nearly as quiet as everyone believes him to be,” you said thoughtfully, “I think he just speaks in his own way.”

You were right about Godswood and The Gallows.

The letter arrived on your desk early in the morning.

The Bookkeeper, Taunum Hyst, was found trying to burn books in the western greenwoods along with some texts from Argot’s. He fought back against the guards sent to retrieve him, but he didn’t know what he was doing. Even now he’s confused and adamant that the last three weeks have been a blur. There’s a daemati at work here. Someone other than Henna. Rhysand knows, if he hasn’t already told you.

I’ve sent a translated folktale in old Bauldish and Common, and another in Demnyon along with the others you asked for. They might be worth looking into to help with the book. I hope you’re enjoying your stay at the Night Court. Happy hunting and stay safe.

~ Helion

You were right.

You dropped the letter, hands coming up to your mouth as you took in a deep, shaky breath. You knew Taunum Hyst. You could picture his salt-grey braids and coal-black skin. He’d helped perform the funeral rites for your mother. Hell he’d managed to make you laugh that terrible day.

Your stomach turned. If there truly was another daemati left in the Day Court that could help explain the killings. Either the Librarians could have died trying to keep the knowledge in their minds safe, or the daemati had made them kill themselves before moving onto their next victim. You didn’t know which was more tragic.

The clock rang eleven bells and you hastily folded up the paper, dropping it into the box along with the rest of your father’s letters.

“I think this might be the first time you’ve ever been late,” Rhysand said with an amused smirk. He leaned against the doorway to his office, ankles crossed over one another. Did that male ever stand normally?

“It is the first time.”

“Of course you would know that.”

You smirked, pushing open the door to find—

“Azriel?”

The Shadowsinger stood with his hands neatly folded behind his back. “Y/n?”

“Cassian!” The Lord of Bloodshed leapt in front of his brother, arms spread wide. “I’m also here. Nesta couldn’t make it with Valkyrie training.”

Feyre rolled her eyes with affection. She reached for Rhysand’s hand without thinking and he accepted with barely a glance. They were two magnets, always pulled towards one another in space.

“What’s going on?” You glanced back and forth between them all. It had always been just you and Rhysand during these lessons.

“I thought it would be good to start practicing with other people when it comes to physical touch,” Rhysand explained. Azriel’s nostrils flared. “You’re getting comfortable with me, which I’m happy about. But I want you to get comfortable with everyone else too.”

You told me you wanted another debrief about the Mortal Lands. Azriel was loath to admit that just the thought of touching your hand was making his heart race like a schoolboy.

And I do. Rhysand said rather smugly, as if he already knew Azriel was freaking out inside. But I also know you wouldn’t have agreed to this if I asked you ahead of time. It’s amusing to see you like this, brother. Have you forgotten how to touch a female? His violet eyes glittered with mischief.

Azriel swallowed, eyes trained on you as you mulled over Rhysand’s comment and nodded. You wanted to be comfortable too. Comfortable in your body. Comfortable with other people touching you.

You thought of what it might feel like to have Azriel’s hand tucked beneath your chin, not just his shadows, and shivered.

Azriel nearly choked when you started undoing the ties of your robes. The gold embroidered fabric slipped off your shoulders in a soft hush that had Azriel going rigid. You wore traditional Night Court fashion beneath your Librarian robes — a tight black shirt revealed the gentle curves of your arms, the cut of your collarbones against your chest, the thin band of flesh around your stomach; a breezy skirt with slits cut into the sides that revealed flashes of your thighs with every movement you made.

Feyre, Rhysand, and Cassian all shared looks, nearly bursting out laughing at the way Azriel’s shadows were in flight around him. A swarm of bees buzzing and murmuring about how beautiful you looked.

Azriel had seen many fae in his time in various states of undress. He’d seen males and females in the Court of Nightmares parade about in scraps of silk and lace. He’d taken countless lovers to bed. Bodies were something he knew well. Something he knew intimately. But he had never felt so flustered as he did looking at you like this. He thought his heart might just burst in his chest.

Cassian elbowed Azriel in the ribs when you weren’t looking and one of Azriel’s shadows looped around his ponytail and pulled.

“Ow.” Cassian rubbed the back of his head with a grin. “Rude.”

You felt rather ridiculous standing in the center of the room with your arms and legs stretched out to the side.

“Right arm,” Rhysand called out.

Cassian bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet, fists held loose by his sides with the lightness of a male a quarter of his size.

You squinted. Is he… is he about to punch me?

Cassian read the alarm on your face and grinned, hitting you with a tap gentler than rainfall.

You snorted, but felt nothing. Perfect.

You had to be grateful for Cassian’s light-heartedness. He had the worry melting off your shoulders. With every limb that Rhys called out, Cassian would do a little dance before punching you or kicking you. At one point he even faked a blow to your face, spinning up to you before leaping into the air and shooting out his right leg. You didn’t flinch as his boot swung an inch away from your face. You could smell the rubber soles of his boots.

“You missed,” you teased.

Cassian pouted, turning around to walk back to the wall now that he was finished with his piece. Azriel looked ready to tear his head off his body.

You’re lucky you missed. Azriel’s eyes screamed across the room. You’d be a dead man if you hurt her.

Cassian winked and blew him a kiss.

Feyre was next. You practiced brushing against her like you would do in a crowded street complete with the obligatory fumbling of apologies.

“Oh good heavens.” Feyre fanned her face like the old, upper-class women in her village used to do and laid on that sickly sweet accent they all had. “I’m so dreadfully sorry.” — They never were.

She shook your hand and touched your shoulders and looped her arm around your waist. That was the part that had you worried. You slid your power away from every inch of your skin, wrapped it up like a secret, and held it deepin your chest.

“Good.” Rhysand smiled and Cassian punched the air.

You breathed deeply and gave a small bow like you’d just finished a performance. But there was still one person you were meant to touch today, and they made you the most nervous of all.

Azriel stepped forward, a picture of calm. Inside, he was raging like a storm. He kept his hands firmly grasped behind his back, wings pressed so tightly he felt his shoulders start to ache.

You took a step forward as well, tilting your head back to look at him. You felt the grip on your power falter when he held out his hand palm up like he was asking you for a dance. Months ago at the Summer Solstice ball you’d been approached by a number of males hoping for a song with their hands at your waist and at your shoulder. The prospect of that kind of touch had terrified you then, and it still terrified you now but for different reasons. Because this time, you wanted it.

You wanted him.

You gently slid your hand into his, feeling the scars roll beneath your soft skin like the mountains that surrounded Velaris. Your breath caught in your throat, but before Azriel could rip his hand away you held on and squeezed reassuringly.

You’d read hundreds, if not thousands, of romance novels in your time. You’d consumed them with a ravenous hunger, surviving on them when real touch felt like a hopeless dream and the loneliness became too much to bear. And in nearly every single one of them, the first touch between lovers was described as an explosion of color. A dangerous shaking of the world down to its foundations. A cataclysmic event.

But you were surprised to find that they were wrong. They were all wrong. Azriel wasn’t destroying anything. He was mending.

It felt like a re-centering. The shifting of a leaning tower so it stood upright again.

A blissful silence.

Azriel cradled your hand in his, thumbs smoothing over your knuckles. He couldn’t help what he did next, couldn’t have stopped himself even if Helion stood at his back with murder in his eyes.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your hand with such reverence, such tenderness, that you swore your heart was glowing in your chest.

“Why don’t you try a hug, Y/n?” Rhysand suggested when Azriel had straightened. “If you want.”

You looked down at your feet where shadows swarmed, and then up at Azriel.

“What do you say, Y/n?” Azriel murmured softly. His words were for you and you only. “Where would you have me touch you?” His hazel eyes caught the light before scattering into a thousand brilliant colors.

Wordlessly you ran your fingers down his arms, tracing the shape of the muscle beneath the leather. You held his hands and gently led them up to your waist, gasping when he made contact. His warm fingers brushed the exposed skin of your waist before sliding around to your back.

You balanced on the tips of your toes, looping your arms around his neck before resting your face in the hollow between his neck and shoulder. He smelled like leather and the mountains. Wind and rain and nightfall coalescing into something so uniquely him you could pick him out in a room of thousands with your eyes closed.

It started out as a loose, misshapen thing, your hands and his arms searching for the right grip to hold your bodies together. But once you found it, you were lost.

Azriel wrapped his arms around your back and waist, hands splayed out like he was absorbing you into him. And you were no better. You buried your face in his neck, lips pressed up against the curve of his throat so you could feel the rhythmic rush of blood through his veins.

He refused to be the first to let go. The roof could cave in. The floor could drop out from beneath your feet. He would not let you go.

Your tears started out slow, coupled by ragged, shallow breaths.

“I’ve got you, Y/n,” Azriel whispered. “I’ve got you.”

How long had it been since you’d been held like this? A hundred years? Two hundred? You thought you’d learned to live without it, but now that it was yours you didn’t think you’d ever, ever be able to give it up. You were at the cliff’s edge now and without an ounce of hesitation you flung yourself over and into the abyss.

With Azriel, controlling your powers didn’t seem like such a difficult thing. Later that evening when you lay in bed staring up at the ceiling, you realized you hadn’t been thinking of control at all.

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Author's Note:

Y'all... THEY FINALLY TOUCHED EACH OTHER! And not only that, BUT HE KISSED HER HAND!!! And! They fucking HUGGED!!!!

#azriel x reader #azriel x reader slow burn #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #the shadowsinger and the inkbird

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