#Pro Azriel

[yourlittlebunnyy]

tw: size kink, bit of dacryphilia, overall this is nastyyy

something about having you under him, squirming and helpless, makes azriel go feral.

it's the way you look so small compared to him, the way you are incapable of doing anything because he's just too strong and you can't fight back even if you want to.

the fact is, that no matter what size you are, he is big. all those hours passed in the illyrian camps training pay off. his hand alone could cover a good part of your back. and his cock... it's a struggle everytime, but oh man if he doesn't take pleasure in seeing you struggling.

the first time you two fucked, he had to strech you out with his fingers first. and when he saw how much you struggled with just one of his fingers, he knew it was going to be a tight fit. your walls barely capable of fitting one single finger, he couldn’t imagine how you could have taken his cock, but you did. you take it like a good girl every time.

"you can take it, baby. yeah..." he groans. "you can fucking take it. just like that..." the room is filled with the thick smell of sex, your little cries overpower the sound of skin against skin. you might almost feel embarrassed by the sounds coming out of your lips, but azriel's cock is fucking you so well it sends your brain to mush. zero thoughts behind your pretty eyes.

and azriel loves fucking you. loves watching as your face scrunches in a mixture of pain and pleasure, his cock stretching you out, breaking you in an half. he mutters praises under his breath, his eyes fixated on your tummy that bulges with every thrust, the line of his cock visible through your skin. "look at us, baby. fuck... look at us." he moans, forcing you to look at where your bodies meet. pretty tears stream down your eyes, overstimulation kicking in. you're so full you can feel him in your stomach.

he watches in wonder, completely intoxicated by you and amazed by how much of him you can take.

azriel is addicted to the power he has over you, too. the way he could throw you around like a toy, holding you in place just how he likes.

"c'mon baby, just a little more..." he whispers, supporting you with those strong arms. your back touches his chest, you can feel the wild rhythm of his heart against your back. your legs tremble, exhausted. "give me one more, just one more... i promise."

every time he says something, even tho your head is disconnected, your body can somehow still register his words, your walls clenching automatically around his girth, making him groan.

his hand presses against your tummy, feeling the bulge makes him twitch inside of you. the pressure causes his cock the hit even deeper, hitting spots that make you see stars. "keep clenching around my cock, sweet girl." you sniff, little incoherent prayers fall from your lips. you don't even know what you're begging for. "gods, gonna ruin you for everyone else. you're fucking mine."

main masterlist - azriel masterlist

[svearehnn]

where flowers go to die | azriel x reader

Summary: Years ago, Azriel was dying on the battlefield, his shadows fading with his heartbeat. She was the Inner Circle’s quiet healer—steady hands, warm laugh, and fiercely in love with the spymaster who didn’t yet know he was hers. In desperation, she made a bargain with Koshei: Azriel’s life for her gift.

She survived the war, but everything she touched afterward began to rot. Her hands, once known for healing, now spread decay. Ashamed and cursed, she vanished into the wilds, letting the world believe she’d died in the chaos of war.

Now, strange withering magic has begun creeping across the Night Court’s border. Azriel is sent to investigate. When he finds the source…it’s her.

Content Warning: descriptions of injury, angst

The wilds did not treat her kindly. But then again, they were never known to be kind. They were thick with dread and rot, Koshei’s reign seeping through every root. Once, she had walked through forests that bloomed at her touch. Now, they recoiled, green turning black beneath her every step.

Even though Koshei had been dead for a century now, his death magic still lingered in her veins—in the tattoo that now marred her skin like a scar, in the way the trees seemed to whisper warnings as she passed. 

She tried to stick to old paths, ones that had already turned barren beneath her, but they still did not welcome her. Stones shifted beneath her boots. Branches sagged, gray-limbed and brittle, as if bowing under the weight of her presence. Under the weight of what she had done.

Each step she took left ruin in her wake. Petals curled. Grass withered. A trail of blackened soil marked where her feet had passed, and still she walked—slowly, steadily—toward the crumbling shrine she’d found years ago. The only place the rot didn’t spread quite as fast. As though the stone, ancient and solemn, held a memory of who she used to be.

She was wrapped in layers of thick green wool, gloves pulled high over her wrists despite the early summer heat. The hood cast shadows over her face, not that anyone ever saw her now. Not that anyone ever should.

She’d buried her name long ago. Left it somewhere in the snow outside Velaris, the night she made the bargain.

But she still remembered his.

Azriel.

His name lived in her like marrow. She tried to forget it. The way his blood had soaked her hands. The way his shadows had curled around her ankles, gentle as breath, even as his eyes fluttered shut and she felt the bond lock into place—quiet and devastating.

He hadn’t known. He never had the chance to.

That was the point.

She had bargained with a god of decay, gave up everything she was so the male she loved could live. She never thought she’d survive it. Never thought she’d walk out of that battlefield, her gift twisted into something monstrous, her hands cursed.

Now, everything she touched died.

And still, she kept breathing.

Still, she dreamed of him.

Still, she walked through a forest that hated her, carrying the unbearable ache of a bond that only went one way.

Until today.

Because today, the forest paused. It’s whispers ceased, as though it was holding its breath. She felt it first through the soles of her boots, the low hush that fell over the trees. Then her own heartbeat, rising. Then something more—an itch between her shoulder blades. A pull in her chest, like a string finally going taut.

Her breath caught.

The shadows moved.

And she knew he had found her.

Her eyes widened just a fraction, her hand reaching for her chest. She couldn’t let him see her like this.

So she hid, just as she always did—within the fading trees, behind gnarled, rotted trunks—and she watched. 

She saw his shadows before she saw him. They furled in like clouds of dark mist, low to the ground. He walked within them, silent as the night, his own eyes searching. Azriel eyed the rot that seemed embedded into the land, inhaled the death that wafted in the air. But he didn’t stop to analyze. 

His gaze was set on the shrine and the sigils that glowed cobalt blue upon it. His gloved fingers traced the etchings, breath hitching in his throat. He recognized the curling loop of her name hidden within them, and it made his blood run cold.

A name that hadn’t been spoken in a century. A name that had become a scar on his heart.

He hadn’t said it aloud since the day they lost her. Not even to himself.

Azriel pulled his hand back slowly. His shadows were already crawling outward—low to the forest floor, quiet, curious. They moved like they did when they sensed something almost familiar. Not danger. Not an enemy. Rather, something his shadows knew was missing.

He turned, scanning the trees. There was no breeze, no birdsong. Just the stillness of a forest that held its breath.

And then—a hitch.

The smallest sound. A breath drawn too sharply, a heartbeat out of rhythm with the woods.

His shadows paused. One tendril curled around the edge of a rotted trunk, brushing against the hem of a dark green cloak.

He said nothing at first. Just… looked.

Even hidden in shadow—even after all these years—he knew.

He knew the shape of her. The way she stood like she was always bracing herself. The way her magic, once golden and warm, now sank into the earth like poison.

Azriel’s voice came softly. Like a blade being drawn.

“I thought you were dead. We all did.”

He didn’t move—didn’t dare. He just stood there, staring at the hollow between the trees where he could see the slightest glimpse of a boot.

She stayed silent even as her heart pounded in her chest, her eyes welling with tears.

“I shouldn’t have come,” he admitted. “I was following the rot. The way it spreads like—” He stopped himself. The words felt cruel now.

His voice softened. “But I didn’t expect it to feel like you.”

That made her flinch.

She pressed her back to the tree, clutching the edge of her cloak like a shield. She had imagined this moment a thousand times. In dreams, in nightmares. She’d imagined him furious. Grieving. Confused.

But she hadn’t imagined this.

Azriel sounded… lonely.

She shut her eyes. Her breath trembled in her chest. The bond, ever present, pulsed weakly under her ribs like an old wound that never healed.

He didn’t know.

Of course he didn’t. And he could never.

Because if he knew—if he felt it now—it would destroy her. Because it wouldn’t be real. He’d think it was some cruel twist of the Cauldron, some pity-thread tugged too late.

So she stayed quiet.

Azriel sighed through his nose, and something in it was so heartbreakingly tired.

“I just wanted to know,” he said, “if you were still breathing.”

A pause.

Then he turned—slowly, deliberately—and walked back to the shrine.

He didn’t see the way her hands shook. Didn’t hear the ragged breath she bit down. Didn’t feel the bond quiver with every step he took away.

But she watched. She saw the way his wings drooped; the effort it took for him to keep them from dragging on the forest floor. The shadows still searching around him, not with suspicion—but with something softer. Familiar.

He didn’t leave. Of course he didn’t.

Azriel wasn’t the kind of male who walked away from ghosts.

He stayed near the shrine, tracing the sigils with a gloved hand. His presence was like a balm to her soul. Yet, even as the bond tugged her closer, begging her to run into his arms, she couldn’t move. She refused to.

She didn’t save him just for him to die by her own wretched hands.

Her throat tightened. Her gloved hands curled into fists.

She heard him speak again—quiet, like he was willing the wind to carry his words to her.

“I know you’re there.”

She swallowed thickly. A shadow brushed her ankle, curling around it. She took a shuddering breath. She could keep hiding. Let him think it was just grief. Just memory.

But he deserved more than that. He’d always deserved more than what she gave him.

So she stepped out.

It was only one step. Her hood still drawn, her hands still hidden. But it was enough. Azriel’s breath caught audibly.

He turned, and for the first time in ten years, his eyes met hers. He didn’t say anything at first. Didn’t move. Didn’t run. Just… looked.

Like he was afraid to blink.

Her voice came thin and brittle. “You weren’t supposed to find me.”

Azriel shook his head slowly. “Then you should’ve hidden better.”

She let out a broken sound—a laugh, or maybe a sob. She didn’t know.

“I’m not who I was,” she whispered. “Not anymore.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.”

He took one step closer. Carefully. Like approaching a wounded animal.

“I don’t care.”

She blinked.

Azriel’s voice didn’t tremble when he said, “You’re alive. That’s all I care about right now.”

The bond pulsed beneath her skin. But still—he didn’t feel it. And she said nothing. She couldn’t risk losing this moment, not even for the truth she so desperately ached to speak into existence.

She didn’t mean to lead him to her.

She meant to keep her distance. To stand in the shadows, let him see her just long enough to prove she was breathing, and disappear again before the rot remembered it could devour everything she loved.

But then Azriel moved—just a few steps, never closer than she could tolerate. His shadows followed her, not him. They brushed her wrist, the hem of her cloak, the edge of her gloves. They didn’t recoil.

She said nothing as she turned toward the shrine. He fell into step behind her.

The earth beneath her blackened, dead things curling inward as she passed. But when she reached the ancient stone and laid a hand upon its mossy edge, the rot didn’t spread.

Azriel said nothing, though she could feel his gaze fixed on her back.

“This is the only place it doesn’t follow me,” she murmured.

His voice was gentle. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe it remembers who I was. Maybe the magic here is stronger than mine. Or maybe… maybe this is where the gods go to forgive things.”

She didn’t know why she said that. Maybe she just wanted someone else to say it was possible.

Behind her, Azriel exhaled like he was steadying himself. “I remember these sigils. You used to draw them in the sand outside the House of Wind. I never knew what they meant.”

She nodded, one hand still on the stone.

“They’re meant for old magic,” she said. “The kind that bargains. The kind that takes more than it gives.”

Azriel was quiet for a long time.

Then, softly: “Is that what happened to you?”

She flinched.

When she turned, her hood slipped just enough that the edge of her face was visible in the dying light. He stepped closer without thinking—half a foot between them, his eyes searching hers.

“I can’t be near people,” she whispered. “I destroy things. I can’t control it. I—”

Her voice broke.

“I tried to save you.”

The words were out before she could stop them. Her heart lurched. Not the whole truth. Not the bond. Just the first crack in the dam.

Azriel’s expression didn’t change—but something in the air did.

A pull. Sharp. Low in her ribs. For one heartbeat, she thought—No. No, not now.

But it faded just as quickly. A flicker. A whisper.

Azriel blinked once, brows pulling slightly together. He looked at her like he felt something, too—but didn’t know what it meant.

She stepped back instinctively. “Don’t.”

He followed.

“I don’t care about the rot,” he said. “I don’t care what bargain you made. I care that you’re here. That you came back.”

“I didn’t come back,” she said, almost choking. “I was never meant to be found.”

He reached out—not to touch her, but to be closer. His shadows swept between them like a tide.

“Too bad,” he said gently.

She froze.

“I already found you.”

The words lingered like mist between them. She hated how warm they made her feel.

Azriel stood a foot away now, close enough that the edge of his shadows brushed her boots like a question. The silence stretched. His gaze searched her face, trying to understand something she hadn’t spoken aloud in over a century.

“What happened to you?” He asked, quieter this time.

Her stomach twisted.

“I told you,” she said, voice flat. “I made a bargain.”

“You said you tried to save me,” Azriel murmured, hazel eyes gazing into hers with a kindness she hadn’t seen in years. 

She looked away as she felt that familiar knot rise up in her throat. Her eyes squeezed shut as a shaky breath left her lips.

“Please don’t make me say it.”

Azriel’s voice softened further. “Why not?”

Her hands trembled. Her gloves were old, worn thin in the fingers. Her magic pulsed underneath, black and ruinous.

“Because if I say it out loud,” she whispered, “I’ll never come back from it.”

Azriel didn’t move. But she felt something shift in the air—again. That pull. That ache in her chest, like a violin string plucked once and left to ring.

The bond.

Cauldron, not now.

She turned her head away. “You should go.”

“No,” he said, firm but not unkind. “I won’t. You don’t have to tell me everything. But I won’t leave you here. Not again.”

Not again.

The words undid something in her.

“I was the only healer left,” she said suddenly. The confession slipped out like blood from a wound. “We were losing. I was trying to save too many at once. And then… and then you went down.”

Azriel stiffened.

She didn’t stop, even as tears blurred her vision. She had to look away—she couldn’t see his face.

“Your chest was open. Your wings were shredded. There was too much blood. Too much. I knew I wouldn’t reach you in time. And the bond—” she swallowed hard—“it snapped.”

He blinked.

“What?”

“I felt it,” she whispered, voice quivering. “And I knew—I knew you never would. You were dying. I couldn’t let you go.”

Azriel stared at her.

She shook her head violently, stepping back. “Don’t say anything. Just—don’t.”

But his shadows surged suddenly—not menacing, not cold. Just startled. His breath hitched.

The air thickened.

A hum between them. Low. Old. Alive.

His hand lifted slightly, like his body was reacting before his mind could.

And the bond flickered again. Harder—like a heartbeat. Like a second heart awakening under the first.

She gasped softly, turning away with a hand clutched to her chest.

“I traded my magic,” she said hoarsely. “To Koshei. To keep you alive.”

A sad laugh bubbled from her throat. “I thought I wouldn’t survive—I wasn’t supposed to. But now look at me. I’m a walking plague. Everything withers away at my touch.”

She swiftly wiped her cheeks, destroying the evidence of her sorrow. He stepped closer.

“Not everything.” 

She glanced up just as a shadow curled around her arm. It was content to be there, unburned, unafraid. 

“I’ll hurt you,” she murmured, her voice so small—so certain.

Her gaze was wary as she watched him step closer, the toes of his boots tapping against hers. It made the blood freeze in her veins.

“I don’t think you will.”

And then his hand lifted, cupping her cheek—she expected the rough leather of his gloves, but all she felt was the warmth of his palm, scarred and steady.

Her eyes widened. She flinched, ready to bolt, but he wouldn’t let her.

“Am I withering?” He whispered, voice barely a whisper. “Am I rotting?”

Azriel’s lips brushed hers like the sweetest lullaby. 

The bond pulled taut in her chest. She leaned into his touch, breath catching, eyes fluttering shut. His thumb swept against her bottom lip in a gentle caress.

“Open your eyes, my mate.”

She did. And beneath her boots, the earth bloomed. Soft green shoots curled from the blackened soil. Tiny buds unfurled like hope from ashes. Flowers—violets and blues—burst into being where decay once reigned. A laugh fell from her lips and he swallowed it with his own.

His hand slid around her neck, pulling her into him as though anchoring himself to the world again. She clutched his tunic like he might vanish if she were to let go.

The bond glowed around them like a thousand fireflies at dusk. The sigils on the shrine flickered once, then faded to rest.

And in the place where flowers came to die, life began again.

[acourtofquietdreamers]

Azriel Appreciation Week: Belonging

Rhys said to Azriel, "If I had not met a shadowsinger, I would not have known that it is the family you make, not the one you are born into, that matters. I would not have known what it is to truly hope, even when the world tells you to despair.” -ACOWAR Chapter 69

For this piece, we really wanted to capture a young Azriel finally finding a place where he belongs. A mother figure to love him as her own, brothers who tease him lovingly not cruelly, a family he chose for himself, and a place to call home. One of the sweetest parts of this piece is the quiet joy and tenderness in Azriel's expression as he looks on his found family.

We can not thank aurithemoon enough for bringing this piece to life for us. She captured everything that we were envisioning in a way only she can. It is such a pleasure and honor to work with someone so talented, so accomplished, and so kind 💙

🦇 Art by aurithemoon on instagram

🦇 Commissioned by @emilyondemand @elainsvisions @theseersgarden and myself

🦇 Characters belong to Sarah J. Maas

Find it on Instagram here!

Please do not repost without permission. Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

@azrielappreciationweek

[acotarallie]

people act like Gwyn is better for azriel bc she’s a warrior. They say “Elain can’t handle his darkness.”

friendly reminder-Elains kill count is higher than gwyns and she doesn’t even have any formal training. Elain killed the king of Hybern and then was baking bread shortly after in acofas cooking everyone Soltice dinner like nothing happened. Gwyn fought in the blood rite and locked herself right back in the library. Who can’t handle what now?!

[xoxochb]

— azriel x soft doe! reader 🦇 ⋆˚࿔

“tell me what you want me to do.”

you let out a soft whimper as you feel the tip of azriel’s cock tease your entrance. it was a repeating pattern of this. not getting what you crave until you “use your words.”

you hate it. hate it hate it hate it.

you can barely even think in this position let alone come up with the words you want to describe what you desire. besides, you’re far too scared to utter the dirty words that flow through your brain.

“I…” you begin. though the words die on your tongue. “I want… you.”

“how?”

awful.

you squirm your hips in order to push him into you, but instead azriel pulls away. you pout, doe eyes making contact with his.

“please.”

“please what?” his thumb brushes your bottom lip, pulling it down to rub the inside. “tell me what you want.”

you attempt to pull him back between your thighs. “come back.”

“and…?”

you sigh when his cock settles back in place. you take it within your hands to do it yourself instead of using a verbal response to ask. your hands barely reach your belly before azriel is grabbing it and pinning both above your head.

fine.

“az…”

“sweetheart.”

“I want you to…” just say it. “I… want you to fuck me.”

at your confirmation, azriel reaches down and presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “good girl.”

finally, thus he complied to your demand as well.

[shadowedpetals]

But they would take me from your hand

Or they would try,

they would try.

Art by: KaneScribbles

[highprincessofthenightcourt]

You know, I have said it before and I will say it again that it’s fine to ship whoever you want. But it’s one thing to explain why the ship you prefer is better suited as endgame in your eyes. And it’s another thing to insist that it’s undeniably the one that ends up happening, especially when there isn’t even any real canon evidence to indicate that.

I understand that we’re all growing very impatient and the lack of news has left a lot of room for interpretation, but we can’t just give in to the chaos and refuse to accept what’s actually written in the books.

It’s an objective statement that Elain and Azriel have had multiple moments that do align with what would be considered romantic tension. It’s a fact that they have been written to enjoy being near each other. It’s a fact that the two of them are often mentioned to be looking at each other. It’s a fact that we are told Elain seeks him out for peace. It’s a fact that we are told Azriel looks at the gift she got him every night before sleep. It’s a fact that he has a secret that is his to tell and it is his feelings for her. It’s a fact that he believes she belongs with him and that the cauldron was wrong. It’s a fact that she would have kissed him if they hadn’t been interrupted. It’s a fact that she finds his biggest insecurity beautiful. It’s a fact that the foundation for them has been laid for a long time now.

Does this mean that everyone has to like them? NO! Does it mean that they’re more likely to happen? Yes.

It’s as simple as that. There’s no reason for there to be this much animosity, insensitivity, toxicity and hatred amongst us. The books are already written the way they are and it’s nobody’s fault that the author decided to set things up the way she did. It’s fair for people to like a ship that the story sets up, just like it’s fair for others to like ships that the story doesn’t set up. But they are two different things and it’s useless to try and deny that.

[gwynethberdarasupremecy]

SPOILERS FOR CARAVAL AND OUABH!!!

I could write a whole essay on the tellajacks/e|riel and evajacks/gwynriel similarities and parallels.

Which also furthers my belief that it’s so important for Azriels character that the mating bond won’t snap, that he won’t suspect they’re mates at all, until he is in love with Gwyn.

[oristian]

+ PRYTHIAN’S PRETTIEST COUPLES ,

ART CREDIT — frostbite.studios

[cyripticchronicler]

The Bet (18+)

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Hidden away in the woods to celebrate the mating bond, you decide to raise the stakes on a supposedly innocent card game. If you win, he has to do whatever you want. Thank the Gods he lost; you want to make the powerful spymaster squirm.

TW: Smut, drinking wine, needy Az, teasing reader, edging kinda?

A/N: I forget how hard writing smut is lmao but I hope you enjoy it!! I think it's the best smut I've ever written ngl. Thank you to my friend (who doesn't want to be named but is awesome) for giving me feedback/editing this fic - I'll give you gum when I next see you, hun.

Masterlist Azriel Masterlist

Azriel looked like the Godly male he was born to be. His smirk was nothing short of dangerous. His eyes gleamed in the dim room, cheeks flushed a rosy pink from the wine that hazed his mind. 

With each sip from the open wine bottle between you two, he was losing his inhibitions, but who could blame him? He’s had the best week of his life; the mating bond had been successfully accepted with Azriel quickly whisking you away to a cabin in the woods to enjoy free, uninterrupted time for the mating frenzy. 

The tall, captivating, Illyrian had taken you everywhere in the small cabin in less than a week - including the floor you were sitting on now. After spending the day with no food in your stomach, you had to put your foot down and demand a break. 

Azriel suggested a game of cards and you never knew that a pair of hands shuffling a deck of playing cards could be so attractive. You have to fold your legs to stop yourself from pouncing on him - an action Azriel doesn’t fail to notice, considering the way his eyes darken.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you mutter, shoving a grape in your mouth, immediately relishing in the cold burst of flavour across your tongue. Azriel begins to hand you your deck, gaze not straying from your rosy lips for a moment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It’s rare to see him so relaxed. So happy. His wings are drooped by his sides, his hair mussed and his clothes wrinkled.

He looks so handsome, yet the sight that has your heart fluttering the most is the permanent smile resting on his lips. A tempting sight.

He’s been so happy this past week and you want nothing more than for him to stay that way. “Now you’re looking at me weirdly,” he mutters, a light blush blooming across his cheeks despite the undeniable cockiness that laced his voice. 

“I can’t help it. You’re just so handsome.” His smile turns shy. The red on his cheeks grows ferociously and he has to look away from your gleaming eyes. Despite your attempt to silence your laughter by chewing on your lips, joyous huffs break free and cause Azriel to slump against the front of the couch, hiding his face in his hands.

“You’re evil,” he states, eyes peeking out at you between the gap of his middle and ring finger. You ignore him, picking up your cards and ensuring they’re hidden from his gaze. “C’mon, grab your cards. Let’s make this round more interesting.”

He does as you say, grabbing his cards and propping his elbow on his knee, his other leg straight and stretched out over the plush carpet. “Interesting? And how would we do that?” 

A smirk tilts your lips. “Let’s say…” your finger taps against the back of your cards. “If you win, I do whatever you want. But if I win, you do whatever I want.”

“Be prepared to lose, honey,” Azriel utters smugly, flashing you a wink that has your heart pulsing. A lone shadow wraps around your arm and you gasp, holding your cards to your chest. “No cheating! Keep your shadows on your side.” 

He playfully mocks you, before placing down a card, effectively signalling the start to the game. 

You can’t help but laugh at the boyish action, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Oh, it’s on, baby. You glare in return and place your own card down, taking a large gulp of wine before wiping your lips. Brown, eager eyes track the movement and you pointedly stare at the cards in the middle of the table. 

He places another card, causing you to pick up four from a separate pile. And so the games begin.

****

“You’re cheating,” Azriel said, his suspicion clear and demanding. Your mouth falls open dramatically at the accusation, your hand extending to give him a light, punishing smack. “I'm not!”

You’re not sure when it happened, or how, but the two of you have moved closer. Both of you are still sitting on the floor, but now Azriel sits on the side of the table instead of at the end, his wing resting behind you, comfortable and warm. His long legs are stretched out in front of him under the table with his large hand returning to your thigh each time it’s your turn. 

“How are you doing so well, then?” He demands, a light and playful scoff falling from his lips, though you can spy a hint of genuine annoyance in the glint in his eyes. 

“Maybe you’re the problem. Maybe, since you can’t use your shadows,” you pointedly eye the shadows that swirl around Azriels arms, “You’re just not that good.”

“I have never used my shadows to cheat.” You wouldn’t be surprised if he has cheated before. Despite his honest personality, he’s just as competitive. Yet, you know he hasn’t cheated tonight; his shadows have stayed at his side, never once trailing up to whisper something in his ear. 

“Oh?” You lean in closer, the smell of night-chilled air and cedar invading your senses. His eyes move from your lips and down your neck, landing on the inside of your shirt that hangs. He nods, gulping. You catch it, the way his Adam's apple bops, very telling of the effect you had on him. The notion sends a pleasant chill down your spine, and your lips curl up. “Then maybe you want to lose. Maybe you like the idea of being at my mercy. Of having to do whatever I say.”

“Maybe I do.” His breath fans your lips, so close but too far away for your liking. “I guess there’s only one way to find out.” He places a quick, barely there kiss on your cheek before placing down a card. You pull away and glare when you realise he’s now in the lead. 

“I’m going to find out, alright.”

****

“Oh Fuck.” Azriel’s groan has your skin heating, waves of satisfaction sending goosebumps down your spine. You smirk teasingly.  “Loser,” You menacingly whisper, voice a low drawl as you creep closer, faces a mere inch apart. “Now,” Your knees shuffle forward, yanked by an invisible force, “You have to do whatever I want.”

His hands move instinctively to rest on your hips. “And what is it that you want me to do?” You hum, tilting your head as your hair falls to one side, legs moving to straddle him. “Let’s say…” You pretend to contemplate, though you’d already known what you’d make him do hours ago. You take his hands and hold them in yours, thumb gently rubbing over the scars you love so much. You shake them gently. “These have to stay by your side.”

His eyebrows raised in interest and you watched his eyes darken, a subtle action only you could cause. “You mean…” He trails off, sucking in a sharp breath as your hands begin to wander over his chest, fingers fiddling with the buttons of his loose, white shirt.

His eyebrows crease, a shaky sigh falling from his plump, kissable lips as you begin to grind against his hard, solid body slowly. His hands raise to touch you before he quickly gathers his wits, squeezing them at his sides instead. Your lips ghost over his before you pull him in for a warm, sloppy kiss that shakes your body. You don’t think you’d ever get sick of kissing him - the way he pours so much love and passion into each movement of his mouth, the way his tongue swipes past your lips in such a gentle yet undeniably needy manner. 

Your hands fist in the collar of his shirt as the kiss grows deeper, pulling him closer into your body as you continue to roll your hips deliberately... Your skin feels like it was set on fire, a deep rumble of pleasure evoking in your core. Azriel’s hands raise to cup your cheeks, mind too blurred with your movements to remember your only rule. You force yourself to pull away and stop your movements. 

“What did I tell you?” You pant, breathing heavily in his ear as you whisper. His eyes squeeze shut, slowly dragging his hands away from your body as he groans. “I-” He gulps, voice coming out raspy. “Sorry?” You shake your head, heart beating wildly in your chest while you pepper kisses on his flushed skin, over his sharp jaw and down his neck before you find cause at his collarbone, sucking harsh enough to leave a mark. 

“You should be.” Your hips continue their movements, pulling away from his neck to admire his face. His cheeks are red, mouth hung open slightly as he sucks in sharp puffs of air. His tongue flit out quickly to wet his lips, eager brown eyes momentarily looking down to watch the way your hips move against his. 

His wings flutter behind him, spread wide. Your hand hesitates before you can touch them. “Can I?” His eyes show no sign of nervousness or hesitation as he nods. “I’m all yours.” All it takes is one swipe against the thin and leathery membrane before he’s throwing his head back as a loud, guttural moan breaks out of him and his hands find purchase at your waist, rubbing you against him with brutal force. 

You tut, removing yourself from his touch completely, choosing to stand in front of his sitting form instead. “I only have one rule, Azriel. Why aren’t you following it? Do you not want me to touch you?” He spreads his legs, veiny hands lazily resting on his thick thighs, hidden beneath thick sweatpants. His chest rises and falls, betraying his desperate need. You have to clench your thighs to stop the painful ache. 

His breath shudders, his body going pliant under your touch, completely defenseless to your ministrations as he shakes his head desperately. “I do. Gods, I do. You just make it so hard.” His voice trails off in an almost whine and you can’t help the pride that sinks into your skin. The most dangerous, hard-headed and serious male is sitting in front of you and practically begging for your touch. 

“Then listen to what I say, okay hun?” At his answering nod, a strand of hair falling over his eye, you reward him by pulling your thin shirt off and chucking it to the side. The cool air sends goosebumps over your supple skin, the only source of heat being Azriels greedy eyes as he watches your nipples perk to attention. 

Deciding you want to tease him more, you trail a lone finger up your stomach, over your breast and into your mouth, fire kindling in its wake. You swirl your tongue around your finger, eyes never straying from Azriel, saliva dripping down your chin and onto your chest. Slowly, you let your finger trail downwards, a trail of wet saliva being left behind as you bring the finger to your nipple, squeezing and pinching, quiet moans escaping your bitten lip. 

Azriel sits in his spot, fingers squeezing his thighs so tightly he’s surely leaving a mark. You hum. “Azzie?” His eyes snap to yours, eager and awaiting instruction. “Take your pants off for me.” He shoots out of his sitting position, taking a deep breath to calm his excitement, some of his control returning as he slowly pulls his pants down his legs, hard, veiny cock now visible, drops of precum budding at the tip. 

Your pants come off next, thrown to the side without a care. You take a step towards him, trying to not let it show how your breathing staggers at the way he looks at you. “Do you want to take my panties off?” Your voice is teasing, amused at how quickly he nods and falls to his knees in front of you. 

Slow but sure hands graze your hip, fingers hooking between your panties and slowly pulling them down your legs. He makes sure to look up at you through his lashes, mouth wet and slightly open. The sight has you almost losing your composure, a thick fog clouding your mind and you have to grip his long hair to make sure you don’t crumble to pieces in front of him. Not that he would have minded.

He moans when your grip gets tighter, a deep rumble against your skin. Gently pulling his head back, a wave of heat soaks your core. “Do you want to eat me out for a bit?” His eyes widened with hope, followed by a desperate nod. You almost let him. Almost.

He visibly deflates when you pull away, hands resting at your sides, glowing body on display for him to see. “Too bad. Stand up.” His knees shake yet he stands to his full height. “Take your shirt off.” It’s gone in seconds much to your delight, the deep ridges of his abs glistening with sweat that you want nothing more than to lick off. Your walls clenched around nothing, a desperate need swirling in your stomach that you attempted to ignore. You wanted to tease him more.

“Sit on the couch.” He does as you say, legs spread, erect cock pressed against his lower stomach. You stand between him, hands resting against his thighs while your nails press into his skin hard enough to invoke a pain you know he likes. His wings bristled at the feeling, bringing your attention back to them once again. You can’t resist placing a gentle kiss on the rough texture of his wing, sensitive enough to feel the light, barely there kiss. 

You watch as his abs flex, body yearning to reach you when you don’t sit on his lap like he hoped. Instead, you sit on the other side of the couch, one leg propped up on the couch, bent at the knee and showing off your glistening pussy. Azriel moans at the sight, eyes squeezing shut as he shakes his head harshly. “You’re evil,” He states roughly. You smile, a hand dipping to your soaked core, middle finger swirling around your pulsing hole and then circling your clit. You moan out an arrogant, “I know.”

Your back arches, body sinking into the sofa, breathless moans turning sinful when you press a finger into your tight, warm cunt. Your fingers aren’t as long or thick as Azriels but they still cause a sickeningly hot flash of pleasure to travel up your sweat-soaked spine. 

The sounds of your finger thrusting in and out of your warm heat fill the room, a sound that has Azriel’s breath laboured. His eyes couldn’t leave your flushed form if he tried. Your hips greedily thrust into your hand, eagerly wanting more but not letting Azriel give it to you. 

When a particularly loud, breathy moan falls from your parted lips he can’t help but moan back, the shadows wrapping around his body moving to his most sensitive part. The light friction from their tight movements as they swirl around his base is enough to have him whining; he was so hard and sensitive and wanted nothing more than to be touched. But he couldn’t break your rules and with one restrained tug, his shadows returned to the corners of the room. 

“Az,” You moan, a whine breaking free as a deep, pleasurable feeling awakens in your core, wounding tighter each time you hit the rough, fleshy spot inside you. “‘M gonna cum.” He’s left to just watch and stare like a pervert, debating whether or not to end this pesky game and fuck you into oblivion. He’s about to do just that but then you’re looking at him, eyes bright with satisfaction and mischief and he knows he wants to see those eyes staring down at him while you take control. 

It takes you a second to gather your wits, legs still shaking while you begin to crawl to Azriel on the other side of the couch, enjoying the way his eyes darken and his jaw clenches. You stop when you’re directly beside him, your knees touching his thighs. 

You don’t waste a second in pulling him in for a kiss, lips pushing against his swollen ones, a deep rumble sounding in his chest. You pull away, lips still grazing over his as you whisper. “You’ve been very good. You deserve a reward.” His eyes brighten like a kid in a candy shop and he gulps in excitement. 

A smile pulls at your lips in response to his eager reaction, looking away from his captivating eyes to look at his hard cock, flushed red due to not being touched. You bite your lip and bring your hand down to squeeze at his base. A quiet curse slips from his lips and you squeeze harder. 

You thumb at his tip, using his precum as lube as you slowly stroke his rock-hard dick. He’s so responsive, needy wines falling from his lips while he groans out your name. His hands now squeeze the sofa, his right hand squeezing the armrest so hard you’re sure it’s going to rip. 

Your pace is slow. Teasing. Your lips find their way to Azriels neck, sucking and biting, feeling his skin heat at your touch. You squeeze tighter. His breath quivered, hips thrusting into your hand like a man starved.  “Are you-” You clear your throat, voice rough with pleasure. “Are you going to let me fuck you?” 

His answering nod is desperate and hurried. “Fuck yes. Please fuck me. Please.” Goosebumps trail up your skin at his begging and you know you can’t refuse him. With a kiss to his sweat-soaked hair, your hand pulls away, back arching in protest while he cries out. 

“Shhh,” Your breath fans over his ear, legs moving to straddle him, hips perched above his waist. “I’m going to fuck you now, okay?” He grumbles incoherently and you huff a laugh, storing the moment in your mind so you can tease him about it later. 

And then you’re slowly sinking down, his large, thick cock spreading your walls in a painful rush of pleasure. He moans in your ear, the feeling of his breath against your neck has you lightly biting his shoulder.  With a shuddering breath, you pull away until the tip is barely inside of you before you slam your hips down, his dick far deeper than your fingers could ever reach. 

“Touch me.” He’s happy to do so, hips thrusting into yours while his lips travel to your perky nipple, tongue drawing tight circles before he pulls it into his mouth completely, sucking harshly and causing your walls to clench around him. 

Your sweaty skin sticks to him, the smell of sex filling the air. Your boobs bounce with each thrust, capturing Azriel’s attention, eyes wide and pouty like he were in a trance. “I’m not going to last long,” He mutters around a moan, hands kneading at your flesh. Your hands raise to the brown strands of his hair, yanking tightly before pulling him in for a kiss. It’s messy, teeth clashing, his nose pressed into your cheek.

“I'm not going to last either.” You feel like you’re on fire, gasping for air as your back arches, legs shaking around his thighs. “You’re so beautiful,” You hear him mutter around a quiet groan, his lips leaving warm, open mouthed kisses on any part of you he could reach. His nails are digging into your skin, his hands shaky. 

The familiar sensation of tightness grows in your stomach, coiling tautly as your breath staggers. You rub your finger against your swollen clit, already sensitive from your last orgasm, as you chase the height of your pleasure. 

He throws his head back against the back of the sofa, Adams's apple bobbing as the veins in his neck throb. “Can I- Gods, can I come? Please?” Your nails scratch down his chest, his abs clenching in delight. “Cum for me baby, I’m right behind you.” 

He shouts your name, his large hands moving to your hips and controlling your thrusts, smashing your hips down on his cock. His cum drips down your thighs and the coil inside your stomach bursts at the sight, a moan leaving your lips as your heartbeat echoes in your ears. Your legs shake and you feel so good it’s almost sickening. 

After what felt like one of the longest, most intense rush of sensations, you slump against Azriel’s chest, head resting in the crook of his neck as you both attempt to catch your breaths. His nails lightly scratch down your back, causing you to shiver. His chin rests atop your sweaty hair and he kisses your head before muttering, “I’m going to be losing a lot more often if my reward is that.”

Your body shakes with laughter and you pull away slightly to look at him. “Shut up.” And then you’re kissing him, so filled with love and happiness you could burst. 

[berryz-writes]

Blue

Azriel x reader

Summary: There's a large contrast between the warm and gentle Az you get to enjoy versus the cold and quiet demeanour he reserves for others

Note: FIRST FULL WEEK I HAVE THINGS PLANNED OUT FOR. this isn't entirely my favourite but fuck it we ball <33 enjoy lovelies

@azrielappreciationweek day 1

The kitchen is a warm, flour-dusted haven, filled with the sweet scent of sugar and vanilla as Azriel leans over my shoulder, watching me whisk the batter with an amused glint in his eyes.

“You know,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my neck, “you could just let me do that.” He slips his arms around my waist, pulling me gently against him. “Your hands might get tired.”

I laugh, nudging him with my elbow. “I think I can handle a little whisking.” I turn to face him, catching the soft, rare smile that lights his face, the one that only appears when it’s just us. I lean up, brushing a light kiss to his lips, and feel him pull me closer, his fingers resting at the small of my back.

“Hmm,” he hums, deep and quiet, his lips lingering just a moment longer. “You taste like sugar.”

“You’re distracting me,” I say, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

“Good,” he replies, his voice low. His gaze drops to the cupcakes cooling on the counter, and he raises an eyebrow. “They’re missing something.”

“Exactly,” I sigh, surveying the icing jars and realizing I’ve run out of the last colour I need. I hesitate, glancing at him, knowing he’s had a long week of missions and should probably be resting. But he just tilts his head, a patient smile on his face, like he already knows what I’m about to ask.

“Could you pick up more icing for me?” I ask, brushing a bit of flour off his cheek, unable to hide my smile. “Please?”

He chuckles softly, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. “Anything for you.” There’s a gentle warmth in his eyes, a soft devotion that melts me from the inside out.

As he steps back, he squeezes my hand. “Save a few for me?”

“All of them,” I reply with a grin, watching as he heads to the door, wings stretching wide in the golden afternoon light. He gives me one last look before taking off, a dark silhouette against the sky.

Azriel's POV

Flying over the city, my mind lingers on her, the soft warmth of her laugh, the way her eyes light up when I walk into the room. She’s goddess incarnate, far too perfect for me.

The cold air rushes past as I fly, enjoying the time to stretch out my wings to their fullest.

But halfway through my journey, I feel Rhysand’s voice slip into my thoughts, quiet and laced with urgency.

Azriel, we have a guest in the dungeons. I need answers from him if you're available, it's urgent

I think about his words. Maybe if it had been a few months ago Rhys wouldn't have added the part of me being "available" knowing I was waiting at the chance to distract my mind. But ever since y/n walked into my life it was getting easier and easier to spend days doing nothing except enjoy her company. No torture sessions. No constant dagger sharpening. Just time spent with her.

Fine.

Was the simple reply I gave. It would only take a few minutes of my time.

The warmth I felt just minutes ago fades as I turn, heading down toward the underground jail, where shadows and silence reign. My shadows coil tighter around me, sharper, attuned to the work at hand as I descend into the dim halls of the dungeon.

The heavy door creaks open, and I step inside to find the prisoner chained to a chair, his gaze faltering as he meets mine. He tries to summon some defiance, but I can see the fear flicker beneath it, his breaths shallow as my shadows drift closer, surrounding him in darkness. This won’t take long.

I approach him slowly, letting each step echo off the stone walls. Leaning forward, I let my voice drop to a low, controlled murmur, knowing how much more effective a whisper can be. “Let's make this quick. Tell me everything you know"

I didn't have to elaborate on what I meant by everything. He knew what I was here for and I would get it one way or another.

He’s silent at first, eyes darting, and I can see him calculating his options. But there’s no fight in him, not against what he senses I’m capable of. My shadows close in, tightening like a noose around him, each word I speak dripping with cold intent.

After a slow drag of my dagger down the column of his neck the information begins to spill out, fast and frantic. I listen carefully, never blinking, absorbing each detail.

No need for lost blood; I extract every piece with surgical precision, each question laced with the promise of what could happen if he resists. Soon, he’s left shuddering, broken, and silent.

I silently thank the cauldron he didn't make this difficult otherwise I would have to clean up before getting to my wife and the thought of keeping her waiting was not something I enjoyed.

Before I leave, I pause, tilting my head as I look down at him with one last, almost casual question. “Pick a colour.”

His face twists in confusion, fear giving way to bewilderment. “Uh… blue,” he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper.

I give him a curt nod, acknowledging his choice before I turn and leave him to the shadows that linger. As I step into the fresh air aboveground, I make my way to a small shop, selecting a container of bright blue icing, a flash of colour that feels strange against the cold efficiency of what I’ve just done.

When I arrive home, I find her at the counter, surrounded by stacks of sweet heaven. She lights up as she sees me, her eyes crinkling with happiness. "Az! Thank you my love" she says, taking the container and pressing a warm kiss to my cheek.

I'd be lying if i said I didn't melt.

But then she pauses, glancing at me, a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze. “What took so long?”

I shake my head, not wanting her to worry “You don’t need to worry” I murmur, my voice gentle. “Rhys just needed something done”

She watches me closely, as if weighing my words, a knowing look in her eyes. But she doesn’t press. Instead, she smiles softly, letting her fingers brush over mine as she returns to her cupcakes.

I linger there, watching her work, feeling the lightness return to my chest as I settle back into the life we share. She doesn’t push, and I’m grateful.

With her I feel like life is worth living.

note: should have azriel year tbh

[fanged-beast33]

@elriel-month | Death and the Maiden

In this iconic scene, Elain and Azriel embody the essence of the “Death and the Maiden” trope. As Feyre evisions it: “Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade. I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife.”

Thank you so much @evaroseart for creating this masterpiece!! I’m in awe of this piece 💕

✨Art by @evaroseart

✨Commissioned by me

✨Please do not repost without permission

[yourlittlebunnyy]

azriel's cock is pretty<3

azriel's cock is pretty, like very pretty. now, this might sound weird.

you never thought a cock could be pretty, you never thought something like that could even come out of your lips. but that's simply the truth.

the first time you saw it, you nearly drooled all over it like a common whore. the sight alone made you drip between your legs, your mouth salivated. you wanted it deep in your throat.

now, azriel had no objection, of course. he finds it almost funny how addicted you are to sucking his cock, but you just can't help it. his tip is the prettiest shade of pink, his veins a deep mix between red and purple, after all it's not your fault that it's so perfect!

"you just love this cock too much, huh, baby?" his tone is mocking, but you're to focused between his legs to care. you suck on his tip like your life depends on it, the salty taste of precum makes your eyes roll back. you can't get enough. "yeah... don't fucking stop, love."

where you can't reach with your mouth, you use a hand to give him pleasure. his cock is so girthy that you almost can't hold it all, your fingertips barely touching. the sight makes azriel feral.

usually, it doesn't take long before he takes control. his hands hold your hair, guiding you. or more like fucking into you, using you as toy for his pleasure. "you're such a perfect little whore, babe. look at how good you take this cock..."

tears stream down your eyes, you moan with your mouth full, incapable of doing anything else. the vibrations only add to his pleasure, his thrusts hit deeper and deeper each time, the back of your throat hurts, but you couldn't care less. "you like when i use you as a fleshlight, huh? yeah... you sure do, love. look at how you're drooling."

his chuckle is dark, his rhythm unforgiving as some shadows swirl around your little bundle of nerves. you can't breathe, too overwhelmed by the stimulation and the lack of oxygen. "don't worry, love, just a little more..." his voice is sinful, and the scene is just too erotic for you. you can feel your own orgasm grow, a quick knot forming at the base of your belly. "you want my cum down your throat, don't you? dirty little thing."

you nod, at least you try. shadows swirl around your body, gifting you little caress on the most sensitive parts. you clench around nothing, and you almost complain about your little hole being empty but azriel is quicker, he takes control of your actions, his hands hold your hair so tight that it hurts, but it only adds to the pleasure your feeling.

"just a little more... just a little more, love."

and seconds after, strings of cum paint your throat white and you drink from his cock, sucking him with the little energy you have left and milking him until he begs you to stop, and suddenly his hands try to push you away, but you can't help it, especially when he tastes so good<3

main masterlist

azriel masterlist

[xoxochb]

“see you tomorrow, shadowsinger.”

[thelov3lybookworm]

Creep

Azriel x Reader

Summary: You'd think the Spymaster lost his child with the way his room looks. Turns out it was just the ridiculous dagger Y/n came to return.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 2025 (i am actually cackling rn)

Warnings: kinda fluffy, the tiniest sprinkle of angst if you squint, maybe a lore drop soon omg??? but otherwise nothing serious <3

A/n: the third part in my maid!reader oneshot list YAYYY 🥳🥳🥳 i actually love this part so much omg, like the amount of details i put?? WHO IS SHE I LIKE HERRR🥹 i literally am in love omg and i hope yall like it too🥹

also yn is so funny lmaoo i love her 🥹😭

ANYWAYS, ENJOYYYY!!!🥳🥳🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Moonlight spilled in through the open spaces between the pillars like liquid silver, the sight ethereal as Y/n quietly made her way through the hallways, down, down into the servants quarters.

The hallways were deserted, not a single soul in sight, and involuntarily, she began humming. The sound echoed back to Y/n, lighter and lighter, merging in the cacophony of a haunting song that would have, any other day, creeped Y/n out. Chilled fingers raked their fingers down her spine, and she quickened her steps, wondering if someone was watching.

Wouldn’t be the first time, as some people did have an affinity for watching unassuming females.

Even as she finally turned into the hallway on the end of which was the stairway leading down towards her quarters, she considered sprinting, in case there was a spirit about to nab her. But before she could make good on that thought, a fae emerged from the stairway, and Y/n’s voice died down, the only sound now the echoes of the song.

Just as the last note reverberated against her skin, Olga paused in front of Y/n, offering her a stern look. Under the moonlight, her skin, as dark as night, shimmered like a million diamonds were embedded in her pores.

"This morning, when you went to clean the spymaster’s room. Did you take anything?"

Y/n’s brows furrowed. No greetings? "No, not as far as I remember."

"Remember now?" The head maid scoffed, shifting to reveal her hands from in between her robes. In them, she held a knife. It was bejewelled, a little too much to be a knife used for eating, in Y/n’s humble opinion.

Yet, she did recall seeing the knife, and putting it in the basket holding the dirty dishes.

"Oh… is that-"

"The spymaster’s personal dagger, yes."

Y/n peered up at Olga, drawing her lip between her teeth. Already, a flush of embarrassment was climbing up her neck, and the lump beginning to form in her throat under the glare that could bruise even a forest’s ego did nothing to help.

"Forgive me, I assumed it was a knife."

Olga’s white brows wrinkled. She had always been one of the more beautiful fae Y/n had ever encountered, albeit very short tempered. That didn’t stop Y/n from complimenting the older female every chance she got.

"How do you confuse a dagger with a knife? And even if you did, what fool would use this-" she lifted the dagger higher between the two, "-this thing to cut their steak?"

Y/n paused, her eyes wide. "...the fool who would put jewels on a dagger meant for combat?"

And- there. Barely visible, but a faint uptick in the corner of Olga’s mouth.

"You young kids will make me age quicker. Mother help me."

"But you will be a very beautiful old female, no? I’m sure the males would still line up!" Y/n giggled lightly, her eyes fixated on Olga’s face to catch every single change in her expression. The crinkling of the skin around her eyes brought Y/n immense joy. It made her feel like she was in the presence of her mother, making her laugh instead of this complete stranger who’d taken up the role of becoming a maternal figure after…

After.

"Go, give this back to him." Olga mumbled, offering her the hilt.

Y/n pouted, widening her eyes in hopes it would placate the female in front of her. Alas, there was barely anything that would distract Olga from work.

"Y/n, you made a mistake. Fix it." Despite the stern tone of voice, Olga’s grip was gentle as she grabbed Y/n’s hand, placing the dagger in the center of her palm.

"But I’m tired."

But Olga had already turned away, walking back towards the stairway she had come from like she had suddenly lost all hearing.

"At least will you oil my hair?!" Y/n called out, wishing she wouldn’t say no.

Olga paused, but didn’t turn. After a small moment, her shoulders lifted in a delicate shrug, and then she went on, without a word. Y/n huffed, looking down at the dagger that flashed back at her when she turned it just the right amount.

It’s your fault, you fuc- no cursing. Mama doesn’t like cursing.

Y/n sighed, then turned back the way she had come, preparing herself for the trek upstairs, her eyes fixated, once again, on the moonlight. Wading through it like water, Y/n paused just before she could take a step into the stairway.

She glanced out- over the moon drenched mountains, the glittering snow, the sparkling stars against the blanket of night- then around. Not even a dust particle in sight to witness her lone mission of returning the dagger.

It wouldn’t be too bad to let the glamour drop…

After a split moment of hesitation, Y/n turned on her heel, heading towards the marble banister under the open sky -making her way through tiny patches of grass on the smaller sitting area- protecting the fae from dropping into the open maw of the smaller mountains beneath. After another quick look around, she let her wings sprout from her back, catching a drift and letting it carry her.

As she beat the appendages, going higher and higher, feeling the wind tickle the dark, iridescent blue wings, she felt the tension release in her body. It had been so long since she had felt the breeze toying with the curved edges that curled in on themselves at the bottom. So long since she had even let the glamour hiding the wings from sight drop.

The wings unfurled after each stroke, and Y/n herself wanted to turn her head, to watch, enraptured, at the beauty of it all. She had always adored her wings, even on her darkest of days. The feeling of having the wind in your hair, the breeze playing with your clothes, the ability to feel things only a few others could enjoy had always fascinated Y/n, equally so as the whole experience of being airborne.

It gave her a high nothing else did, and so when she felt solid ground under her feet again, it was almost disappointing, considering she hadn’t even realised how quick the flight would be.

It almost made her want to beg the mother to give her a chance to fly for longer, but Y/n had long ago realised to be very, very mindful of what she asked for. She had quite an experience in the consequences of mindless prayers.

Once, she had asked for something. She had gotten it, but at the cost of losing her.

The hallway was deserted, just as it had been hours ago when Y/n had been preparing herself to face some elite fae. It was her luck that it turned out to be Azriel, and despite it being his own doing, Y/n didn’t hold the fact that it made her uncomfortable against him.

Quickly, Y/n walked over to the same door she had stared at before the same morning, and lifted her hand, landing three quick raps against the wood.

At first, the shuffling that seeped through the door stopped completely, the almost frantic shuffle of feet on the other side of the door giving way to silence so thick it was almost suffocating. And then the scuff of boots that got louder as the fae inside approached the door.

Y/n found herself staring into hazel eyes the moment the door cracked open, and she shifted, clearing her throat when he refused to say a word. He blinked, as if waking from a trance, and opened the barrier separating them wider, offering her a smile.

"Good evening."

Y/n glanced down at her hands, trying hard to ignore all the exposed amount of skin and muscle that were right in front of her. Azriel seemed to realise it too, hurriedly wrapping his bare arms across his shirtless torso, swallowing. "Good evening. Forgive me, I didn’t expect to see you here at this time."

She shook her head, meeting his gaze again, feeling blood climb up her neck at having all his attention on her. The previous times the two had been alone, Y/n had something else to focus on, something to latch onto to ignore the almost intimidating but also exhilarating feeling of being in the same space as the spymaster.

Now all that distracted her were her hands that clenched around a ridiculously jewelled dagger.

"It’s okay, I didn’t expect to be here either."

Azriel cocked his head, his eyes surveying her from head to toe and back. "What brings you here, then?"

Y/n’s eyes flicked behind him for a moment, taking in the state of the room. Saying it was messy would be an understatement. The bed was bare, covers thrown haphazardly to the ground, chairs and tables strewn about the room in a formation completely at odds with the way they had been just that morning, so neatly placed, with relatively clinical precision.

Her brows furrowed.

"Is everything okay?"

He glanced behind him, scratching the back of his neck. "I was just searching for something." He turned back around, a sheepish grin on his face. "My dagger. I accidentally left it in here this morning, and when I came back to retrieve it later, it was gone."

Y/n’s cheeks coloured as she pulled her hands in front of her body, splaying them wide to show him the weapon. "Was it this one?"

Surprise flickered in his eyes along with relief as he reached out to grab it from her grip. "Where did you find this?"

Y/n focused on his hands, unwilling to meet his eyes.

His ungloved hands.

The horror, the shock and surprising sorrow that took hold of Y/n like a hungry beast pushed the breath out of her lungs, but Y/n forced herself to recover quickly, instead deciding that looking into his eyes was better than unwittingly asking him questions he might not want to answer.

"I- uh- I unintentionally took it with me when I came in to clean this morning, thinking it was cutlery."

Bewilderment took over his expression, yet he said nothing that would have embarrassed her further. "Thank you for bringing it back. It is very precious to me."

Y/n nodded, her fingers twisting around themselves as silence settled once more. There wasn’t anything she wanted to say. And he seemed too busy fawning over his dagger to break the silence.

And anyways, she just wanted to leave and go back to sleep.

"Well, good night. I’ll get going."

She had only taken a few steps down the hallway when- "Are you going to come back?" he blurted out, making her freeze in her tracks.

"I’m not sure… Why do you ask?"

"So I can talk to the head maid, of course."

Her brows furrowed. She turned to look at him, on the other side of the threshold. "And what would be the purpose of it?"

He sighed, looking down at his boots. "Look, I… I think you’re very nice, and I would love to have you as a friend. If you want, that is."

She cocked her head. "You could’ve just said that without going to such lengths to get me in your room."

He shrugged. "I didn’t want to seem like a creep."

Her brows rose, incredulity dripping from her voice. "And yet, you’ve accomplished that goal very well."

A corner of his lips ticked up. "Forgive me?"

If Y/n were not a lowly maid, and were he not one of the High Lord’s closest warriors, Y/n would have clocked him over the head with a pan.

"Good night, Azriel."

Y/n turned, then walked away quickly, ignoring the quiet, amused smile on his face as he stepped deeper into his room and closed the door, just as she ignored the pang of confusing longing in her chest.

Just as she ignored the spark against her ribs.

Maybe I’ve got acidity.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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