#save Az from them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daycourtofficial · 4 months ago

Text

You two are dancing in a snow globe round and round

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 8.2k | warnings: needles/requiring stitches

Summary: four times a trope fails to bring you and Azriel together, one time it prevails. This is my submission for @sjmromanceweek day 5: favorite tropes (and yes these are all elite tropes, argue with the wall 😤)

Author’s note: this is for my You Are in Love by Taylor Swift girlies. Also on the fence about the ending but ya know it felt right and @ninthcircleofprythian loved it so her opinion is the correct one

Fake dating

The streets of Velaris are quiet. A sleepy morning after the holiday excitement of Starfall has died down. A week past it and the fae are still holed up in their homes, only going out when necessary. The cobblestone streets are mostly empty, you, Nyx, and Azriel passing the occasional fae as they move in the opposite direction. They would nod or wave at the three of you, but never linger to talk, eager to get on their way.

A light tugging on your scarf brings you out of your daze. Looking down to find Nyx’s blue eyes looking up at you, his tiny hands pulling on your scarf. “Az, can you help undo my scarf?”

The two of you stop, moving over to the side of the street to avoid being in anyone’s way. Azriel’s scarred fingers reach out, unwrapping the scarf from your neck, and rewrapping it to include Nyx. The babe has been doing this all week to anyone wearing a scarf - tugging incessantly until he was also tucked into the scarf. If he was after the scent or the warmth, nobody knew. Cassian had even bought him a scarf, a little thin knitted piece of black wool, thinking the boy would be delighted. Nyx cried and pulled on the scarf when Cassian wrapped it around his neck before spitting up on it.

The princeling is still holding a slight grudge against Cassian, in turn causing the general to try desperately to get Nyx’s affections back - holding him constantly, playing with him, trying to slip him some sweet treats. Cassian’s antics have led the three of you here, walking the streets of town instead of being in the River House.

You usually watched Nyx in the afternoons and after a week of Cassian’s antics you had quickly grown tired of his need to get back in the heir’s good graces. As soon as Azriel returned from training and bathed, you had rushed the two of them out of the house with you before Cassian could come looking for Nyx.

Nyx settles in your arms, enjoying the comfort the scarf brings him. His head rests against your shoulder, the slightest bit of drool permeating your jacket. You sigh, cursing yourself for wearing your favorite coat when you know just how messy Nyx is.

“He’s quite fond of you,” Azriel’s deep voice is laced with affection. You look down at Nyx, finding it difficult not to coo over how cute he looks snuggled up to you.

“He better be - I spend more time with him than anyone save for Rhys and Feyre. Hopefully he remembers that when I begin my plans to take over the world.”

Nyx’s little giggle comes from underneath the scarf, immediately bringing a smile to your face. One of Azriel’s hands lingers around the small of your back, gently helping guide you down the near empty street.

“When you take over, will you spare me? I hear a shadowsinger could be very useful in world domination.” He leans into your ear, his voice soft as to not disturb the silence of the road.

You start moving down the street again, Azriel just a half step behind you. His left wing was open around your back, offering protection to you and the princeling. You wanted to sink into it, let his wing envelop you fully.

“You'll have to submit an application, I already have quite a few offers.”

“I’d expect nothing less, but I am hoping some favoritism can move my application forward.”

“Mm, does favoritism come with perks?”

“I’ll buy your lunch and any pretty things you find on the way back to the house.”

“Oh, I like your methods of persuasion, shadowsinger.”

The two of you walk into the bakery, Azriel holding the door open for you and Nyx to walk through first.

“I’m just saying, but if Cassian really expects to keep disrupting my plans with Nyx, the least he could do is make me a smoothie.”

Nyx babbles in your arms, and you look into his violet eyes, the same color as Rhys’s, but they held the same twinkle to them as Feyre’s eyes, “yes, that’s right. I’m right.”

You all get in line, five fae in line ahead of you. Azriel unwraps the scarf from around Nyx, the warmth of the bakery causing him to want to be out of the confines of the fabric.

“But if you woke up a little earlier, you could make one yourself without Nyx there to watch over.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” You ask, your finger tickling Nyx’s side to get him to giggle with you.

Azriel rolls his eyes at your obvious tactics to get the toddler to agree with you, but he can’t help the soft smile he has as Nyx giggles at your poking and flaps his tiny wings.

The older female in front of the two of you turns and gasps at Nyx, her hands flying up to cover her mouth.

“Well, if this isn’t the cutest babe in all of Prythian.” Her face lights up as Nyx flaps his wings harder at the attention he’s getting, hiding his face in your shoulder, hiding his big grin.

“He’s just darling, you two must be thrilled to have such a sweet babe.”

“Oh we’re not-“ Before you can disagree with her, Nyx has made his own decision.

“Mama!” He calls to you, putting his chubby little hands on your face, squishing your cheeks together. You move one of your hands back towards Azriel’s stomach, stopping him from speaking further, deciding to just roll with it.

You crinkle your eyes, “He’s just darling, isn’t he?”

Nyx gives you a toothless grin, and you shoot him a look he mistakes for pure affection, preening under your withering gaze. It is nearly impossible to stay mad at him, his chubby cheeks the ultimate ‘I can do no wrong’.

“How old is he?” You pale, having a hard time keeping track of Nyx’s age. You dig through your mind, trying to remember when Nyx was born. Azriel answers much quicker than your brain could. “He’s fourteen months old.” The female squeals at Azriel’s words, the shadowsinger slightly wincing.

“Wow, what a great age! My boys were little monsters by then, each of them would love walking around at night, they’d always manage to escape their cribs somehow. I can’t imagine how I’d deal with one of them with wings!” She continues, her eyes lit up talking about her kids when they were young. You find it incredibly sweet, until she continues on and on until it’s her turn to order.

Her back to you both, you turn toward Azriel, widening your eyes slightly and looking at her. He shrugs, a soft “what can you do” coming from him. After she orders, the two of you step up, ordering your sandwiches and something sweet for Nyx. The woman gets her sandwich right after you pay, telling you, “it was nice to speak to you - you and your family are beautiful.”

Nodding and smiling, the two of you find a table and sit, Nyx still in your arms. You lightly kick Azriel’s foot underneath the table. “Thanks for paying.”

He sips his coffee, rolling his eyes. “Didn’t want her to think I was a poor father.”

You laugh, the sound causing Nyx to laugh too. The light hit the pair of you, giving the two of you a sort of glow. If Azriel squinted, he could feel the edges of fantasy grasp hold of the image - you holding a winged babe, laughing at something he had said. He wished he had some way to capture this moment, knowing he would return to it over and over in his mind when he couldn’t sleep. He smiled, unable to keep your joy from infecting him.

One bed

“That’s not funny,” Cassian pouts, looking to you for support. You shrug, taking a sip of your wine to avoid speaking, opting to look towards the portraits on the wall rather than meet his gaze.

“You’re right - it’s hilarious,” Feyre responds, looking at her mate, seeing the comparison. “The last female you hooked up with looked just like Rhys.”

“She did not!” Cassian bellows, slamming his hand on the table. All of you howl in laughter, the revelation of Cassian’s recent hook up bearing quite the resemblance to his brother an endless source of amusement.

Cassian, Mor, Feyre, Rhys, Azriel, and yourself were all nestled into the dining room of the townhouse. The fae light in the room produces an incandescence that provides a stark contrast to the brutal snow storm outside.

You’re all trapped here, none of you brave enough to step far enough outside of the wards to winnow away. The six of you piled into the townhouse earlier in the evening, where you lovingly made a three course meal. It was a monthly tradition - you liked getting everyone together, you loved cooking for your friends, and they loved eating your food. It was a win all around.

Dinner was just starting to be served when the snowfall took a turn for the worst, coming down in massive heaps of white.

“Good thing we have a feast right here - I was starting to eye Azriel’s legs.”

Mor rolls her eyes at Cassian, “you were eyeing his legs because you can’t keep your eyes to yourself.”

Cassian smirks at her, a charming grin many females have fallen victim to. “You’re just upset it wasn’t your legs I was looking at.”

“Can we stop discussing my legs?” Azriel grumbles, passing the bowl of mixed vegetables to you. You nod in thanks, scooping a serving for yourself. “At least they’re being kind to you - last week Cassian was making fun of my arms.”

You pout your lip dramatically, but Azriel ignores it, his scowl still on his brother. “I wouldn’t call being the first to be eaten a kindness.”

“It’s not my fault you have short arms. How do you reach anything?” Cassian’s mouth was somehow already full of food, despite one of the platters just making its way to him.

“I believe she reaches things by scaling countertops and climbing shelves,” Rhys adds, plating himself some dumplings before serving some to Feyre’s plate.

“Hey! We were not talking about me, we were discussing Azriel’s delicious thighs!”

“He didn’t specify thigh.” Rhys points out, his fork pointing toward you.

“Oh, but I meant his thighs.” Cassian chimes in, his arm outstretched for another serving of potatoes.

“I’d start with his arms - he has a lot of meat on his bicep.” Mor doesn’t look up from her plate as she states it so casually.

“This conversation has taken a turn for the worse,” Azriel mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose in his fingers. You rub his arm soothingly, and he softens a bit at the feel of your touch.

Until you start squeezing the muscle beneath your hand. He immediately glances at you from the side of his eye, a stony and cold look.

“Flex for me, please.”

“I will not indulge this!” He starts trying to pull his arm away, but your fingers are surprisingly strong.

“Hmmm,” you hum, your hands still wrapped around his bicep, squeezing as you contemplate. “They’re a decent contender, but my vote is the thigh.”

“Not you too!”

You squeeze his arm lightly, “I’m sorry, this is a worst case scenario! I promise I’ll only eat you if you were already dead from like a freak accident.”

“What are our thoughts on someone being run through with my sword as a freak accident?” Cassian muses, licking his fingers dramatically. Azriel scowls at him as everyone around the table giggles.

Azriel turns back to you, “you only picked my legs because you wouldn’t be able to reach my arms.”

You drop your hands from his bicep, mock exasperation on your face. “How dare you! I was complimenting you. Being able to feed a family from your lifeless body is a compliment!”

“I can think of many families more deserving of my meat than you lot.”

He huffs, rotating his body to look at his brother before adding, “don’t you dare, Cassian.”

Cassian scoffs at the finger pointed in his direction. “You’re the one who said you can feed a village with your cock.”

“That is not what I said! And it was a family, not a village.”

“Whatever.”

The two keep bickering until Cassian throws a green bean at Azriel, who quickly moves his head. A shadow comes and quickly pushes the leftover food on Cassian’s plate into his lap in retaliation.

“Okay, that’s enough.”

Rhys looks equal parts amused and equal parts annoyed, likely at the mess that was made of his chair lining. He looks towards the window, the snow coming down even heavier than before. He sighs.

“I’m assuming we’ll all be staying here tonight?”

Everyone nods, no one wanting to brave the cold, wet snow. Not even Cassian or Azriel volunteer to leave, their bodies tailor made for this kind of weather.

“Right,” he nods, looking at Feyre. “Feyre and I will stay in the big room. You two,” he points to you and Azriel, “can stay in the room with the mirrors. You two,” now pointing to Cassian and Mor, “can stay in the room with some of Feyre’s paintings.”

Your heart picks up, its beat erratic and echoing through your ears. This would hardly be the first time you and Azriel shared a bed, but each time turned you into a bundle of nerves. You spent the entire night doubting each movement you made, uncertain if you were making Azriel uncomfortable until your brain eventually shut down, allowing for sleep to overtake you.

Every time your worry was for nothing - each night full of nerves brought forth a morning of tangled limbs and warm cuddling. Waking up in his arms did nothing but cause your feelings for Azriel to soar, spending several extra minutes in bed pretending to be asleep, trying to imprint the feel of his arm around your waist to memory.

“No,” Cassian bellows, “she has that painting of Bryaxis in there. Creeps me out. I won’t be able to sleep.”

Rhys breathes through his nose, uncertain when becoming High Lord meant delegating his friend’s fears. “Put it in the closet.”

“I’ll know it’s there.”

“Fine, we’ll take the painting out of there.”

“Maybe Cassian will be who we eat if a simple painting puts him on edge this much.” You whisper conspiratorially, Azriel making a soft hum in acknowledgment. If he can hear the loud beating of your heart, he doesn’t let on.

You look at him, his face not giving any apprehension away. It was hard not to fall further for Azriel with each look he gave you, each night you two shared a bed just sinking you deeper and deeper into your feelings.

He is beautiful, a detail impossible for anyone to ignore. You have heard countless fae mention it over the years. Most of them only see him from a distance - the cold, mysterious front Azriel wanted the world to see him as. But you have the privilege of seeing him up close, getting to take in every small detail about him.

The exact angle of his nose, how his jawline curves. How his shadows move languidly around his face, almost wanting you to pay attention to his eyes. You’re certain you could draw an exact replica of how his tattoos litter his chest, the design close to Cassian’s, but not quite the same. Azriel’s tattoos were looser, as if his shadows acted as stencils when the tattoos were made.

You can even tell when his hair gets to the length he finds too long, the black curls getting into his face, his shadows sweeping the hair off his forehead when he trains.

You treat knowing him as if you’re a scholar writing an encyclopedia of Azriel, needing to know every little thing about him.

The weather doesn’t leave much lingering, everyone turning in quickly, seeking solace under a warm comforter. You follow behind Azriel, making your way to the room allocated to the two of you.

‘Room with the mirrors’ was an understatement. Mirrors of all sizes surround the both of you - more with ornate frames, intricately carved figures and plants decorating each one. One mirror even had detailed Illyrian wings on the bottom. You could see yourself and Azriel from every angle, every movement meant for observation.

“Why do they have so many mirrors in here?”

Azriel’s eyes sweep across the room, counting at least two dozen mirrors. He knew exactly what Rhys used them for. It was impossible to know the High Lord for centuries and not know his bedroom preferences. “Do you really wish to know?”

Shivers go down your spine at his whispering voice. You have the whole room to yourselves, but his proximity is difficult to handle knowing exactly how Rhys and Feyre use this room.

“It’s obviously because Rhys tries out mirrors until one shows him a flaw.” You watch Azriel grimace through a reflection.

“They’re a bit unnerving.” Several of his shadows dance around the mirrors, almost watching themselves as they slither and writhe. They are putting on quite the show, causing you to nearly miss Azriel’s statement.

“I guess.” You shrug, not really caring too much. In truth, you like the mirrors. It meant there was nowhere for Azriel to hide from you in here.

A shiver ran up at the thought that you couldn’t hide either.

A room of truths and being seen.

“I could just winnow back home.” You startle from your thoughts, Azriel’s tight lips and tense shoulders giving away just how uncomfortable he is. Is it your shared company? Or is it the thought of staying in his brother’s spare sex room that’s putting him on such edge?

“But that’s not fun. Besides, you can’t leave me here with Cassian. He’s already disaster planning. I need someone to protect me.” You sit down on a settee, unlacing your shoes. A small part of you doesn’t want Azriel to leave, hoping if you get comfortable, it’ll help him relax.

An even smaller part doesn’t want to recognize how large that part actually is. You don’t want to be left alone tonight, and you certainly don’t want to have to explore exactly why his absence has such an effect on you.

“You were saying I’m dinner earlier and now I’m your protector. Which is it?” His wings are loosening their stiff hold and from the corner of your eye you see a few shadows nestle beneath the duvet.

“Whichever suits my needs. And tonight I need you to protect me from Cassian.”

Azriel shakes his head, unable to keep the smile off his face as he sits next to you, unlacing his own boots. He nearly takes up half the settee, but you don’t mind as his wing gently drapes around you. He places them neatly next to yours, the domesticity of it lingering in your mind.

Shoes at the end of the bed, getting ready for bed.

Romance in its simplest form: routine.

He’s gone much too quickly for your liking, his hands quick as he searches drawers for some kind of nightwear. A few shadows help him in his search, pulling out various folds of silk and lace.

“Would you prefer a shirt or one of Feyre’s nightgowns?”

You’d prefer a nightgown, but knowing Feyre’s taste in clothes you know it’d likely leave little to the imagination. Azriel’s already a bit hesitant to stay, and you don’t want to push him further away.

“Shirt, please.”

You thought he was offering you one of Rhys’s shirts from the drawers, but you’re pleasantly surprised when he unbuttons the front of his shirt, his shadows undoing the ties at the back, before the dark wisps carry the shirt over to you. He’s half turned away from you as he digs through the drawers, but you can still make out the contours of his body, the muscles in his arms moving with him.

You thank the shadows for their help, slipping away to the attached bathroom to change and get ready for bed. This isn’t the first time you’ve shared a bed, but it feels different. More serious somehow. You slip into Azriel’s shirt, the fabric practically melting onto your skin.

It smells divine. You want to just drown in the fabric here and now.

Instead you go back into the room, finding Azriel in comfortable sleep pants.

He turns his back to you, doing a sweep of the room to ensure every crevice is shut and locked. When he turns, you can’t help the squeal that leaves your lips at the sight of the words printed on the rear of the pants.

Azriel looks back around at you, only to find you pointing and giggling where his ass had been a few seconds before.

“Your pants say juicy!” Sure enough, the purple plush pants had the word ‘juicy’ in rhinestones and all capital letters. “No wonder Cassian wants to eat you, you’re practically advertising it!”

Your laughs are practically bouncing off the mirrors, Azriel’s body surrounded by your joy. He wants to be annoyed at these ridiculous pants Rhys clearly wears, but as your laughs continue, his annoyance is all an act. He tries his best to keep a neutral expression, but he’s certain some forlorn look of longing is in its place.

“Ha ha, very funny. Can we go to bed?” You’re still a ball of giggles as you make your way to the bed, awkwardly shuffling, a bit unsure. This part is always confusing and awkward - the two of you shuffling, waiting to see what the other would do.

Azriel is well-versed in loving from a distance. He was convinced for so long that if Mor only saw him, acknowledged him, it’d be enough. And then he met you. And Mor became nothing more than she had always been - his friend.

Tonight. Tonight he would not love you from a distance. His legs carried him to the bed, taking the initiative as his wings spread out against the mattress. He pulls back your side of the duvet, his hand patting the bed. An invitation.

Your cheeks turn a shade of red he wanted to paint the walls with. He could see himself in the mirror behind you, one of his wings twitching in delight that he found himself attractive.

Maybe just being in your gaze did that to him - opened him up to see who he could be. Maybe your gaze made him preen like a male bird, putting his best self on display. Or maybe it was the tattoos of his chest on full display, his sweatpants hidden beneath the duvet already.

“Are you going to hog the blankets?” Your words come out a bit shaky, trying to shift your focus from his warm body as you get in next to him. His wing curls back up, tucking in close to his body to make room for you. You shimmy into bed, pulling the duvet back over your body. For several minutes you lay there, practically stock still trying to avoid moving or disturbing Azriel, until he twitches lightly. You turn and notice his pinched brows, trying to hide the discomfort from his furled wings.

“I could- sleep on top of you? So you can spread out your wings? I just want you to be comfortable.” You add hastily, turning on your side to see him better. The bed was large enough for Illyrian wings, but you’re lying right in the middle of the bed, making it impossible for his wings to stretch out.

He’s silent, clearly thinking you’re question over. He’s taking longer than you expected, hesitance in your words as you speak again.

“Or I could sleep on the floor.” Your last word comes out as a gasp, his fingers quickly wrapping around your hips, pulling you on top of him. One of his hands moves around your head, tucking you into his chest. The other moves to your back, his fingers rubbing soothing strokes down your spine as he adjusts to be laying right in the middle of the bed.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” His fingers keep moving, not stopping their soothing patterns. His wings drop dramatically onto the bed, practically yelling at you to accept the space you gave away to them.

“Somehow, I think I’ll survive.” You let out a breath, finally letting yourself relax and breathe normally again. You burrow your face in his chest, the piney scent of him making your eyes droop. His fingers are soothing against your skin, each movement gently guiding you closer and closer to sleep.

“Now if Cassian comes looking for a midnight snack he’ll have to get through you first.” You pinch his side, a squeak hitting your ear as a shadow pulls your hand away.

Blind dates and nosey friends

Your hands tear the bread in half once again as you see the waitress heading straight toward you. An awkward smile is on her face as she approaches your table.

“Miss, are you ready to order?” You sigh through your nose, shredding the roll in your hands. She is just doing her job, you don’t have to take your frustrations on this male out on your server. You start to ask for a menu, when out of the corner of your eye you see large wings you would know anywhere. The shadow that branches off from him, heading in a direct path to you, is the confirmation it was him.

“One moment, please.” You don’t wait for her response before practically sprinting over, grabbing the shadowsinger’s arm before even thinking about it. He jerks his arm back, a scowl on his face before he realizes who it is.

Azriel’s defensive stance slackens as he takes you in, his eyes lingering long enough on your dress that heat creeps up your chest. A few shadows start curling around your bare legs.

“What are you doing here, Az?” His eyes finally look back up at your face, something hidden deep in his gaze.

“I was supposed to meet someone, but they never showed.” Your stomach falls at his words, the hypocrisy impossible to ignore. He was supposed to be on a date? But they didn’t show up?

You take the chance to look at him, his usual leathers exchanged for more formal wear. An all black tunic that shows a glimpse of his chest. It is a gorgeous fabric - a deep black with dark blue embroidery along the edges. His clothes are looser than his leathers, but they still show off his chiseled body.

You were a fool to not take in the back of the outfit when you had the chance earlier, certain he fills out the seat of his pants quite nicely.

Whoever didn’t show up for Azriel was a fool. Your jealousy at that fact is undeterred by remembering you are also supposed to be on a date right now.

“Same here.” Your date not showing up didn’t bother you too much. You were disappointed by how highly Feyre spoke of him, but you hadn’t been too thrilled to be going out anyway.

“Are you hungry?” Azriel gives you a bewildered look, and you cross your arms feeling so exposed before him. You gesture to the table behind you, hoping Azriel will pick up the hint.

He just continues looking at you blankly.

“Would you like to have dinner with me? I have a table, and the waitress certainly thinks I made up having a guest to eat with.”

He looks down at your outfit once again, goosebumps trailing where his eyes land. Just because you hadn’t been thrilled to come didn’t mean you took picking out your outfit lightly.

“It would be an honor.” He follows you to your table, long legs making it to your chair before you do. He pulls your chair out, helping you sit before he takes his own seat.

“Who were you meeting tonight?” His voice is low, nearly a growl as he asks the question. Before you can answer, your waitress comes back, two menus in her arms. You thank her as she hands them to you both.

“A nice merlot, please.” Az holds up two gloved fingers to her, wanting the same.

“Feyre wanted to set me up with some male from the Rainbow. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.” His eyebrows pinch together, a shadow curling his ear conspicuously before his face softens.

“And he didn’t show up?”

You shake your head, not wanting to voice the disappointment at being stood up. You weren’t giddy about the date, but it still stings of rejection.

“His loss.” Azriel is so sincere as he says it, his face opening in a way that only really happens when you’re alone with him. “Truly.”

You open your menu, unable to linger in his sincerity. “Maybe he was the great love of my life and now I’ll never have that.”

“I truly doubt that.”

The waitress comes back with two glasses of red wine and a fresh basket of breadsticks that she places between you two before heading off again.

“What are you doing here - who were you meeting?”

“Cassian’s been trying to get me to go out with him more. I got tired of waiting for him.”

“Is he okay?”

“He’s fine, he probably got caught up with Nesta and I’d rather not smell them in a public restaurant.” Azriel grimaces, and you remember him telling you last week about finding them on the training grounds and immediately turning around.

“So, did Feyre tell you anything about this guy?” You look up from your menu, a bit confused at him circling the conversation back to a male you’ve never met.

“Not really. Just said he’s good looking and a nice male.” You shrugged, reaching for a breadstick to tear apart, giving your hands something to do.

“She didn’t give you a name?”

You think for a moment, replaying the odd memory over again. How Feyre had come into the room, a crazed look about her as she asked if you had any plans this evening. Details of the restaurant reservation flying from her lips, getting a promise that you'd be there before she ran off again.

“No.” You pop some bread into your mouth, finally able to enjoy the softness of it now that you have Azriel looking at you instead of the waitress.

“Do you always go out with nameless males?”

You stop chewing and throw your balled up straw wrapper at him. A shadow catches it before it can hit his face, a smirk taking root, brightening his face. He looks so boyish, so smug.

It was one of your favorite faces he wore.

The shadow throws the wad at Azriel’s face anyway, leaving him speechless at the defiance. You try to stifle your giggles, your hand hardly stopping the sound as you watch the shadows around him also appear to be laughing.

“It’s not funny.” Azriel tries to slip his face back into the cool neutrality he wears so well, but it’s nearly impossible as your giggles grow. You have to look away, the absurdity of the evening making you want to laugh harder.

A few fae turn their heads to look at the pair of you, quickly averting their gaze once they see who you were seated with. Your laughter dies down, and you know Azriel won’t let the topic die until you give him all the answers he desires.

“No. I hardly ever go out with males.” Azriel stops his teasing, his whole body going still as if movement could impair his hearing. Even his shadows stay still, watching and waiting over his shoulder.

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I’ve only been out a handful of times the past few years, none of them were right.” It’s the truth. Each date felt like a chore, ill-fitting shoes that never quite gave you what you needed. Mor had he annual attempt at setting you up, but you were quite happy to have a quiet love life for the time being. You’re much happier spending your free time with your friends, on your work, or with Nyx than with random males to learn their favorite colors and what they did for a living.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Have you been seeing anyone?”

“No.” His reply is curt, clearly not wanting to further the discussion. His eyes are cold, the gold not shining how they usually do when he speaks to you.

“Okay.” You’re at a bit of a loss for what to say. Conversation between the two of you is usually so easy.

But the two of you never discuss your love lives with each other. How could you talk about some male to Azriel without saying well he’s not as kind or as attentive as you?

“Come on, Az. Take a breadstick. It won’t kill you.”

You shake the basket at him, trying to get him to splurge a little. His rigorous diet is well known amongst your friends, teasing comments accompanied most meals about Azriel’s strict dietary choices.

That’s all it is when you say it - a deflection, a joke to ease the slight awkwardness that accompanies your question. To your utter delight, he picks one up, taking small bites, savoring each taste.

It’s nearly sinful how he eats it.

Once it’s gone, he pats around his chest, looking around the room.

“Look at that.”

“What?”

“I am still alive.”

“Oh shut up.”

“All these years, I thought bread would kill me.”

You roll your eyes at him, picking the menu up to finally look over what you want for dinner.

Who did this to you?

It’s easy to forget Mor is first and foremost a warrior. Her chosen wardrobe is curated to draw attention to her other assets, but her muscles still shine.

“Ow.” Mor’s hand is quick as she jostles your face, clutching your jaw tight. Her grip gives away her true strength - focusing all of it on your face.

You pity anyone who comes in her way on a battlefield.

“Hold still.”

“I’m trying, you’re hurting me.”

“Shush. You’re fine.”

A lone shadow creeps through the crack beneath the door, making its way over to you. It slinks through the shadows of the room, slithering from the shadow of the bed to the shadows beneath the dresser.

You notice it halfway through its journey, but Mor remains ignorant. It moves up your leg, gently swirling your hand in comfort. It works almost instantly, the cool touch of it enough to distract you from Mor’s ministrations.

For a moment you almost forgot where you were.

“Ow!” It comes out louder than you intend, scaring off the shadow. The disappointment of losing your shadow friend took your mind off the pain momentarily before scowling at your friend again.

“Are you sure you don’t want Madja?”

“Yes.”

“Then stop complaining.”

You groan, unable to stop yourself despite Mor’s withering look. You suck in a breath through your teeth, nearly biting your tongue as she continues stitching your face.

“What are you doing?” You didn’t hear Azriel come in, didn’t hear a sound from him. But now he’s impossible to ignore. His shadows swarm you, their soft caresses welcome and wanted. They brush against any open skin they can, a few tickling against the open wound on your face. A few find the bruises littering your legs and hips, their cool caress not stinging like pressure would.

Mor merely rolls her eyes at him, annoyance flickering in her brown eyes as she looks to him. “I’m playing healer because I thought it would be fun, what does it look like I’m doing?”

Several of the shadows leave you, circling around Azriel’s ears conspiratorially. His wings flare out, almost casting a wall between you and the rest of the world. One of the shadows tries to swat Mor away, a huff of annoyance leaving her.

Azriel has been different ever since your dinner together. The two of you are spending more time together than ever - now you see him at most meals, he gives you his weekly schedule and warns you whenever he’ll be gone, and the two of you always slink off and spend the evenings together.

It’s been strange lately.

Despite the shadows whispers, his scowl only deepens. His eyes assess your face, scanning for every injury. Hazel eyes go straight to the bruise covered by your shirt, as if he can see beneath the fabric to the purple skin beneath. Azriel’s face tightens, disapproval clearly evident.

“What happened? Who did this to you?” His voice is deeper, some deep anger taking over his face.

Mor is quick to step in, to calm the shadows that are swirling around you, making it difficult for her to continue her stitching.

“Calm down, she fell down the stairs.”

His breathing starts slowing again. Catching Mor’s eye, she tries not to laugh at the intense display. She even mouths his words back to you, an impish look on her face before she focuses again on your cheek, purposefully ignoring the Illyrian practically breathing down her neck.

You try to laugh but wince as she brings up the needle to your cheek, threading it through skin, slowly closing the wound. An intake of air gives away your true discomfort, no matter how hard you try to hide it.

“You’re being too harsh.” Mor groans at Azriel’s admonishment before reaching for his hand, gently handing over the needle to him before standing. She dusts off her dress before getting to her full height. Azriel bends down, trying to keep the needle from pulling too far, allowing Mor to slightly tower over him.

“If my stitching isn’t up to your standard, you may finish it.” She huffs, waiting for his response. Hands meet her hips waiting until he concedes, nodding silently. She’s quick to turn on her heel, muttering about overprotective males before shutting the door behind her.

“She should have taken you to Madja.” Azriel clicks his tongue as if Mor could hear his complaints through the wall. His shadows seem to nod in agreement poking out over his shoulder before making their way back to you.

“I didn’t want to go to Madja.”

“Why not?”

It took a moment to find the words, to vocalize it out loud. It was silly - your arms were full, trying to carry too much at once. Foolishly you thought the stairs were a few feet away, missing the top step and falling face down the stairs.

You had hit the walls with each tumble, causing a loud enough raucous to startle Mor, who immediately helped you up and fussed over you.

“I was embarrassed.” Your arms cross over your chest, trying to hide into yourself. Azriel gently cups your face in his hand, bringing the threaded needle back up. You wince, shutting your eyes tight to avoid seeing it.

Azriel was right - Mor had been a bit rough in her stitching, but not enough for you to say anything.

His thumb gently strokes your cheek, the delicacy enough to have you slowly crack open an eye only to find him looking right back at you.

“Why were you embarrassed?” His voice is softer now, less amusement as he holds your gaze. His gaze is strong, impossible to turn or hide away from.

Maybe that’s why you open up completely, the cowardly parts of you on full display.

“I didn’t want to bother Madja with something I got because I tripped over my own feet.” You watch his face, waiting for him to understand how silly this situation is and to drop it completely. To continue his stitching and leave you with a bruised ego.

That understanding never comes, his face nearly shriveling in confusion.

“I’ve watched Cassian go to Madja for paper cuts.”

“Yes, but-“

“Do you think Cassian’s pain is more deserving of healing?” Azriel is quick to cut you off, his words fast to stop the shame spiral you were gearing up to begin. His gaze is hard and unflinching, pinning you in place.

Truth-Teller isn’t a weapon, it’s a title you feel he deserves. One look from him unspooling all of your secrets.

“It’s different.” Your shoulders slump a bit, finding it hard to find the right words for how you feel. Embarrassing is the best one, but it still feels light.

“How?”

“I’m not… fighting the good fight. I’m not a warrior.” A few shadows wrap around your shoulders in a comforting embrace, almost as if they are holding you up. “Cassian deserves to be babied a bit when he’s constantly throwing himself into danger.”

A more cross look overcomes his features, a hint of agitation lingering.

“I didn’t realize civilians didn’t have healers.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then tell me what you mean.”

“Madja has more important things than tending to my falling down the stairs.”

“I think you’re right. She does have better things to do.” You blink. You’ve never heard Azriel concede in an argument so easily. You’ve watched him argue with Cassian until he was blue in the face just to win.

“But I don’t. So if you’re done…” he trails off, his hand that holds the needle going a bit higher to get into your eyeline. A reminder to both of you that he needs to finish the job Mor started.

You nod, accepting his kindness. The fight eases out of you, slowly leeching from your pores, unable to stand against the softness in his face. Your eyes close more gently this time, the weight of the shadows easing your nerves a bit.

“Just don’t tell me when you’re going to do it, please.”

“Okay, I won’t.” He rubs his thumb along the scar, not applying any pressure. You lean into his touch, unable to stop yourself. The stitch Mor made prickles a bit, but the two of you continue to sit there in a calming silence. Both of his hands now cradle your cheeks, his large palms so comforting you nearly muzzle into them.

“Azriel, are you ever going to stitch up my face?”

“I’m already done.”

Your eyes relax, blinking at him. You bring a hand up to your face, touching where the long gash was to find it stitched.

“I guess that tonic Mor gave me did stop the feeling. Thanks, Az.”

One of his hands gently grabs yours, pulling it from your cheek. He holds it delicately in his own, his thumb swiping across the back of it.

“Stop messing with it. You’ll undo my hard work.”

“It’s like picking at a scab.”

“Don’t do that either.”

Friends to lovers

A fire crackles in the library, casting a warm glow over the room. Of all the libraries in Night, none of them compare to the one nestled in the Townhouse. It’s smaller than the others, allowing for a more quaint and cozy feel.

The shelves are a bit haphazard, you and Azriel using it as a personal library most of the time. Most books continue notes in the margins from either or both of you - quick scrawl to dictate something for the other or something one of you enjoyed.

The Townhouse is where the two of you spend most of your time - the tighter quarters being enough space for the two of you.

The last few weeks were a blur of Azriel - spending most nights in each other’s beds,

A blanket’s folded behind your head. You’re tempted to cover your legs with it, but you lean a bit closer into Azriel instead. You are practically draped against his lap, your torso half over his body, a book perched in your hands. He’s using your back as a rest for his book, one hand woven in your hair, the other one making circles in your lower back.

His shadows flip his pages for him, allowing his hands to lazily wander on their own. It was so domestic and easy, each movement a thrill.

You’re trying to read your book, but if Azriel even asked what it was about you wouldn’t be able to answer. An earlier conversation with Cassian keeps replaying in your mind over and over again, each return to it an attempt to further your resolve.

“Going so soon?” Nesta had pouted, her gray eyes turning pitiful trying to get you to stay longer. “I’ve hardly seen you the past few weeks.”

You started to answer, telling her you hadn’t become that unavailable, when Cassian’s voice boomed through the living room.

“She has to get back to her boyfriend, Nes. He’ll be upset if she’s gone too long. He’ll get broody.”

You had scoffed, nearly jumping at his voice.

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Oh yeah? How do you know who I’m talking about? I didn’t say a name.” Cassian came into the room now, amusement on his face as he wiped his hands with a dish rag.

“Shut up, Cass.”

“He’s not her boyfriend.” Nesta spoke up from the couch.

“Thank you!”

“You just spend every minute with him, you reek of his scent, and you’re always considering what to do next for him.”

Cassian rounded the couch, plopping down next to Nesta.

“You're his girlfriend without the title.”

“Am not.”

“You sleep in his bed.”

“Not every night.”

Nesta and Cassian looked at each other before turning back to you, almost in unison saying, “or he sleeps in your bed.”

Heat began creeping up your neck, your emotions feeling so violated. You knew the two of you had been close, but was it really so obvious to Cassian of all people?

“Fine, if you two aren’t dating, I’m sure you won’t mind in two years when Azriel’s dating someone else.”

The words clank through your mind like a dropped bell, the same notes hitting over and over again. Someone else.

“Az?” His name comes out as a whisper, your fear only half wanting him to hear you, the other half begging to be heard.

“Hmm?” He doesn’t look up, his attention still mostly on his book as he tries to finish the paragraph he’s reading.

“Are we dating?”

Azriel looks away from his book, looking down at you in his lap. Even his shadows drop the book onto your back, their attention moving toward their master’s response. He takes a moment, clearly thinking over your question, giving you his full attention. You turn slightly, angling your body to fully see him.

“I suppose we are.” He answers you so nonchalantly, as if this was a well known fact. You sit up now, taking the spot next to him, your book falling off the couch but you don’t care enough to even look at it. His book falls as well, a soft thump onto the carpet.

“Are you… happy about it?” A million questions race through your mind, but that’s what comes out first. His hands had followed you as you moved, one of them still resting on your hip, lazily dragging his thumb in languid strokes.

“Delighted.” You take the moment to really look at Azriel, his face mere inches from your own. You hadn’t noticed the gradual change over the weeks, but sitting here now, it is impossible to ignore. His face is brighter, eye bags having shrunk to a regular size. He’s been smiling more, a few laugh lines making their ways onto his cheeks.

Even his clothes are different - looser, more casual attire covered his body, his leathers getting worn only for training and official duties.

Azriel looks like Azriel. Not the spymaster, not the shadowsinger. Not a thing of legend.

But the male you love.

Your hand reaches out, softly cupping his jaw. Your other hand pushes some of his hair off his forehead, the soft curls bouncing back into place after the attempt to tame them. The smile on his face matches your own: full of possibility, love, and hope. A shadow glides across your lips before moving across your whole face, as if imprinting this moment to their memory.

“Are you going to kiss me?” Your mouth is splitting your face in two, too large to contain your smile to just your lips, it reaches the corners of your eyes.

“Once your questions end, I would like to.”

“Do you love me?”

“So much.” You feel how much he does in his gaze, in his hands, in his words. Everything about him - every interaction, every touch, every moment, it all led you here. You’re grateful for every moment of it as his hands gently pull your face to his, his lips warm and gentle as they meld into yours.

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

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#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel #acotar writing #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel x y/n #azriel fluff #sjmromanceweek2025

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miryum · 5 months ago

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Don't Pity Me, My Princess (Azriel x Reader)

With Azriel as your personal knight, it's getting harder and harder for both of you to ignore your feelings.

Warnings: whole lotta angst. Talk of children and childbirth because royalty need heirs, you know? Az doesn’t have his shadows (even though it was so hard to write him without them) but is still called Shadowsinger. Azriel's mother was abused and there's like, one sentence about it

Word Count: 5k

Azriel had lived at the palace since he was a young boy. His mother had knocked on the servant’s quarters one dark night, begging for someone to take her son. She could handle an abusive husband, but she couldn’t bear her baby boy to suffer the same fate as she did. An old maid took pity on the new mother and agreed to house, clothe, and educate the child. Just before the new mother left, she kissed Azriel’s cheek and whispered his name. “You’ll do good things, my dear. I am so sorry.”

Coincidentally, a couple months later, the Queen gave birth to an infant girl. Princess Y/n was heralded with parades and celebrations, the new heir apparent. Meanwhile, in the servant’s quarters, a baby with a thick head of black hair and small little wings was just learning how to lift his head, staring up at the maids and butlers who saved his life.

Azriel grew up preparing for the life of a knight. He remembered growing up watching the knights train as he played with his own wooden sword. He remembered beating his still-developing wings to try and see over the wooden barrier of the jousting arena. He remembered when the knights first caught sight of him, trying to hack away at a dummy. They teased him at first, but then, just like his entire life, they took pity on him. The next week, Azriel began training as a squire.

It was a long time before he earned his leathers and then his siphons, but the Shadowsinger became a name that was both respected and feared throughout the kingdom. The King sent him on missions all over the continent and Azriel always returned successful. He would fight in the jousts and consistently win. He had maidens and ladies swooning over him, but they weren’t who he yearned for.

That’s why he volunteered, almost a bit too hastily, when the King asked for extra protection over his daughter, Princess Y/n.

Azriel’s mind was filled with you, almost every moment of every day. It couldn’t be healthy, that he was aware of, but having grown up next to you, even if from the shadows, he had forged a deep connection to you.

When he was young, he had hardly noticed the little princess completing her studies. He couldn’t remember a time when he saw her in the halls or at the training ring — which is where he most frequented. But one day, a year or two after he had turned a teen, Azriel had fought in his first joust. In any joust, it was customary for a knight to be sponsored by a lady of the court. A lady usually had a favourite knight she regularly sponsored, so Azriel’s stomach was in a pit when it was time to trot by for potential sponsorship. Who would ever cheer for the newest, youngest knight? Azriel sure could beat a village boy in combat, but he was still the smallest and scrawniest of all of the palace’s knights — if you could even call him that. He could recall his anxiety as if it was yesterday. The way the crowd was cheering, the way his horse’s hooves kicked up dirt underneath, and the way he began to sweat as he tried to sit straight.

And then, as he passed the royal box, you stood. Azriel almost kept his horse trotting by, sure it was a mistake, but when he saw you extract your blue handkerchief, he pulled on the reins. By some fortuity or fortune, your handkerchief was the same colour as his siphon. He had just earned his first one the week prior. Through his metal visor, he stared, wide-eyed, as you reached down and tucked your handkerchief into the folds of his armour. The rest of the court was watching too, but Azriel didn’t see them. He could only focus on the way his heart sped up when you whispered, “good luck.”

You were an utter vision. Azriel was sure that you had chosen him to be your champion because of the closeness in your ages, but your support, even if it was just a piece of cloth you had embroidered, meant the world. He hadn’t won his first joust, or his second, but you kept sponsoring him. Azriel became accustomed to stopping under the royal box and bowing to you before heading to his starting position. Sometimes, especially if it was an important event, you would have a new handkerchief for him, or even some whispered encouragement, but Azriel didn’t need those things as long as he could keep making eye contact with you. And then he started winning. He could still hear your excited screams as his javelin hit his opponent straight on, which gained Azriel the championship. It wasn’t unusual for members of the court to get invested in the jousting, but others found it humorous that you were jumping from your seat to see better. However, you were only a teenager, and they knew you would soon be able to control your emotions.

You had not-so-patiently waited for Azriel to bring his horse back around to the royal box after doing a lap of the stadium. People had thrown flowers and kisses and Azriel had shed his helmet, his cheeks hot from both the exertion and attention. When he saw you, he bowed deeply and handed a flower that someone had thrown to him. It was a small red rose. Your gloved fingers brushed his as you took the flower. His black hair hung over his face as he ducked his head. You made a mental note to have the barber stop by the barracks. “My Princess,” he muttered, head still bowed. “Thank you for choosing me as your champion, all those months ago.”

“Well, Sir Azriel, it certainly paid off, didn’t it?” you replied, smiling down at him. “It’s an honour to have you wear my colours.” You nodded to one of your handkerchiefs that was tucked in the chink of his armour, right above his breast.

That was the past. And now, Azriel had the glorious opportunity to stand in front of the King and Queen, multiple siphons displayed proudly as he suggested his own name for the position of your bodyguard. Your childhood knight was retiring, something everyone thought was best as his wit, speed, and strength declined. That opened up the position. The King and Queen had called for the Shadowsinger’s opinion and he gave it, however biased he was with his feelings. “Your Majesties, I believe that the best thing for this kingdom and your daughter would be if I offered my services.”

“And why is that, Shadowsinger? Wouldn’t you rather be sent on missions and participate in protecting our kingdom?”

“With all due respect, my King, the princess is the face of the kingdom,” Azriel said, a knee pressing against the floor of the throne room. It hurt, yes, but he could handle it if it meant sparing you the pain. “The people love her, but that also means many hate her. There are too many dangers, especially with other kingdoms threatening to encroach on our borders. I would be able to protect the princess, and you and the Queen, more efficiently if I was her personal guard.”

The two monarchs exchanged a look before the Queen nodded. “Very well, then. You’ll assume the position effective immediately. You shall accompany Princess Y/n to events and daily excursions. You’ll be briefed more extensively later this week.”

Azriel nodded and stood. He thanked the King and Queen and hurried out, trying to conceal his budding smile.

“Do you remember all the signals?” you called from your dressing room.

Azriel was standing outside, content to just listen to your voice, but he replied, “yes, my princess.”

“And you’re wearing your dress uniform?”

“Yes, my princess.”

“Are all the other guards as well?”

“Yes, my princess.”

The door then opened and you peeked out. “And are you sick of me asking you senseless questions?” you asked, an apologetic smile on your lips.

“Never, my princess,” Azriel answered softly, eyes holding yours. “Are you almost ready?”

You ducked back into your dressing room, voice floating out again. “Almost. I believe we just need some more hairpins, yes?” Your maid responded in an affirmative and a couple minutes later, the door opened once more. There you stood in a cobalt gown that cascaded down to the floor, hair all done up, and jewellery proudly displayed on your knuckles and upon your collarbone. It didn’t escape Azriel that your dress was the same colour as his siphons.

Azriel had spent years serving under the King and Queen, honing his emotions to be the stoic force he needed to be. But, with you in front of him, he found his resolve cracking. His eyes widened and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

“Do I look that horrible, sir?” you teased.

The guard immediately shook his head. “No, my princess. Quite the opposite, in fact. You…” his jaw tensed. “Those princes and dukes will be tripping over their feet.”

As much as Azriel would love to pretend that you were his and he would be the only one accompanying you tonight, he knew that this ball was for a very specific reason, and one he did not like. Your parents needed you wed, and it couldn’t be to him.

Nobility and court members alike knew to avoid Azriel when he was watching you. You were on your fifth dance with the fifth man and Azriel made sure to walk around the dance floor as you moved, always being as close as possible.

The moment Azriel had known he was to be your new personal knight, he had created a series of hand signals for you to use covertly. He was always on the lookout for your well-being and thankfully, there had only been a few times when you had needed to use the hand signals.

Months prior, your parents had held an anniversary ball for their marriage. You were a bit younger, more naive, and Azriel had only been your personal knight for just under a year. He had loved every moment of it, but he couldn’t help but feel a budding sense of anticipatory fear as he saw you twirl around the dance floor carelessly. You had one of your younger cousins in your arms and was spinning them around to their delight. While Azriel wanted to imagine a smaller child in the stead of your cousin, perhaps one with dark hair and your eyes and little wings that replicated his own, he was more focused on the older man that was watching you.

A measly Count from further South, the man looked twice your age and three times as intoxicated. He stayed on the outskirts of the celebration, but the Shadowsinger was not one to miss something.

When the Count approached you after your dance with your cousin, Azriel didn’t intervene. He couldn’t act only on a suspicion that the Count was malicious. And he wouldn’t act without your express approval.

But then he saw you twist the ring on your pointer finger.

When Azriel had first become your bodyguard, you were unsure if you could remember all the signals he had wanted you to memorise. A deeper fear, admittedly, was that he wouldn’t be watching and then unintentionally leave you to your own devices. Azriel was determined, however, to never waive your trust. He immediately came marching in, whispering something meaningless into your ear under the guise of matters only you, the princess, could attend to, and swept you away. A dirty look was thrown to the Count and Azriel made sure never to let you near him again. In fact, the Count was barred from any and all future events.

Meanwhile, you had finished your dance with the nameless suitor and Azriel already had an arm stretched out for you. You took it gratefully, needing a respite from all the men giving you unabashed stares. “I really do hate this,” you said to him as he guided you away. “I don’t see why they’re even letting me choose my husband if he will be from this very specific pool of men. At this point, it would be easier to simply betroth me to whomever they see fit.”

“You know my feelings on that, my princess,” Azriel replied. “And I’m sure your parents feel the same. They wish for you to have some sort of semblance of choice and happiness.” Even if it is not with me, the man who would worship you.

You sighed and looked down at your feet. “I know, good sir. But it’s tiring, as I’m sure you can realise. I’d much rather be in my room, engaging in the arts or taking a nap.”

Azriel couldn’t help but let out a deep laugh, one that drew your lips up into a brilliant smile. “Yes,” he agreed. “I’m sure you would.” He paused and then looked down at you. You looked so perfect on his arm and there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to keep you there. “Here’s a proposition: if you survive the rest of this evening, I will dance with you.”

Your eyes immediately light up and Azriel swore the stars themselves burned brighter, pledging their allegiance to you. God, you were like ambrosia in his veins and how he wished for it to keep flowing. “Really?” you gasped. Azriel had been very conservative in his dances, even though, unbeknownst to you, he would dance on forever if you asked. But whenever he held you in his arms, it was too intoxicating. Too dangerous. He was still the Shadowsinger, even if he was sworn to protect you. The hands he held you with had been the notorious cause for so much pain. The thought of telling you about his past missions… It scared him more than imaginable. Those memories were ones best kept locked away within the shadows. He didn’t want you to think of the people he’s hurt – of the suffering he had caused – when you looked at him.

So all he did was nod back, smiling the soft look only you could bring out.

The night slowly wore on, the candles flickering over the walls, bidding the departing guests farewell. And still you stayed. Even as the moonlight rose above the windows and the maids and butlers slowly began cleaning up, you stayed. Only the musicians remained as Azriel led you to the middle of the floor. There was an unspoken trust between you and the musicians, knowing they wouldn’t tell your parents (who had already gone to bed) about your singular, last dance with your knight.

Easily, you placed your hand on his shoulder and Azriel’s palm flexed on the small of your back. The way your dress swished softly was a small distraction from the thoughts swirling in Azriel’s mind. He drew your joined hands closer to his chest as he thought back to how you danced with those other men. As if you knew he needed comfort, you stepped closer to Azriel, resting your head on his chest and eyes closing with exhaustion. His arms automatically wrapped around you, holding you tightly – almost protectively – as he let his cheek rest on your hair. His eyes softened and he murmured, “tired, my princess?”

“Over a multitude of things,” you replied.

Azriel tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering on your cheek. “A multitude of things?”

“I almost wish I didn’t have to marry,” you admitted. “It’s not as easy as it seems in the stories. I need to take alliances into consideration and the happiness of my people. Along with wealth, resources, and good blood. My feelings hardly add into the equation, even though I want them too.” You then shook your head and changed the subject, a teasing smile on your lips. “Has anyone complimented your wings before?”

There’s a beat of silence.

“No,” he responded, a bit hoarsely. “No one has.”

You hummed and shook your head. “They should.” Your eyes trailed down to your intertwined hands before giving his palm a small squeeze. His burn scars marred his skin, contractures stretching over his hands and arms and small keloids by his wrists and creeping up to his elbows. Azriel winced slightly at the pressure of your hand on his scarred skin, memories of the pain flooding back. He tried to hide it, not wanting to ruin the moment, but a flicker of discomfort crossed his features. You instantly lifted your hand slightly to give him reprieve. Azriel wished for the contact back, but he knew he was the one to blame for the lack of touch. He was the one to make you flinch away.

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat, trying to bring the conversation back to his wings. "You’re the first.”

“I’m privileged then,” you murmured as he spun as the music lilted. “Though it truly is a pity.”

As you spun around, Azriel's wings extended instinctively, the iridescent membranes catching the moonlight. He held you close, ensuring your balance, and for a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to revel in the beauty of his own wings. They were a part of him, and something he couldn’t imagine living without. He watched you longingly as you twirled in his arms. His eyes followed the movement of your gown as you twirl. When he had you pressed close to him once again, he replied quietly, “is it really a pity, my princess?”

“They should’ve been complimented — all of you should’ve been complimented a thousand times before now,” you corrected yourself quickly, thumb sweeping over his hand where yours was placed on top of his. “You don’t see how amazing you are because you hide behind your scars and memories. But you’re the best knight I’ve had.”

The words carved him open deeper than any blade, striking into the insecurities he held. The sincerity in your voice and the gentle touch of your thumb on his hand made something in his chest ache. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. The idea of all of him being complimented, rather than just specific parts or aspects, such as his fighting ability, was a foreign concept. He glanced down at you, eyes filled with sereness. “All of me?” he asked quietly, his voice rough.

You nodded with a caring, hopeful smile on your face. Maybe he would finally see how sensational he was.

Eventually, you came to a stop, standing in the middle of the room. The musicians finished their song and quietly packed up, leaving. Yet, you and Azriel were still in each other’s arms. Azriel continued to hold you, savoring the moment. He relished being able to hold you like this, without anyone else around.

“Do you truly pity me?” he wondered.

You shook your head. “No,” you whispered out. “I would never be able to pity the man who devoted his life to me. I would never be able to pity the man who devotes himself to me. And I don’t think I have it in me to pity the man whom I truly care for.”

For a brief moment, he stood rigid, unused to such easy affection. Then, his wings unfurled slightly, wrapping around you both like a cocoon, shielding you from the world outside. “As I you, my princess,” he allowed himself to say, scared that if anything more were to come from his mouth, it would be a declaration of unwanted love.

“Will you ever call me anything else?” you couldn’t help but tease, looking up at him.

Azriel smiled back down at you, hazel eyes warm with love. “No, my princess.” The night was silent, but Azriel didn’t want to be. His lips parted to tell you something, but when your eyes darted down to them, he found himself asking, “have I yet praised your dress?”

“You have,” you laughed. “But it’s kind of you to do it again. I wanted to match you, you know?” You reached down and pulled your dress to the side to reveal a glittering sheen of fabric under the thick cobalt fabric.

Azriel’s eyes widened in appreciation. “Beautiful, princess,” he admired sincerely once again. “It’s an honour to have you wear my colours.” He repeated the words you had said to him all those years ago.

“I’ll always wear your colours,” you replied. “You’re my knight, after all. Ever since I was young.” Your hand slid up his chest and wrapped around his neck, thumb brushing against his skin and along the hair by the nape of his neck.

The Shadowsinger couldn’t contain his shiver. “Must you, my princess?” he breathed out, voice rough.

“Must I what?”

Azriel’s eyes fluttered shut and his head dipped down, nose brushing against your forehead. “Must you marry some duke or prince?”

It took you a while to respond and Azriel’s heart only beat faster each second that passed. “No,” you admitted quietly. “But my parents would like it. They won’t have me marry a commoner, but… I could very well marry a knight.”

“Princess…” Every part of his soul seems to be reaching out, grasping for you. His grip tightened slightly, holding you against him as if he feared you would be ripped. His hands trembled slightly as they remained on your waist. There was a vulnerability in his eyes – a desperate need for confirmation that the words you said were real. “Do not give me hope if you plan on tearing it away. It is too cruel of you.”

“So it’s true,” you muttered. “You have feelings for me?”

“I am not brave like you,” he instead said. “I’ve been your loyal knight for years, my princess. But I couldn’t bear to make myself a liability to your heart. I couldn’t do that to you. I care what others think of me, as much as I hate it. They cannot pity me, I cannot have it so.”

You shook your head sadly. “Sir, they do not feel sorry for you. No one does, especially not me. You’ve protected me for so long, you’ve more than earned your place here by my side. This isn’t some fanciful notion born of youthful indiscretion. You and I both know that. This is a mature, considered love that, hopefully, you feel too.” Your voice cracked as you continued and tears shone in your eyes. Oh, how Azriel hated to be the one to cause you such pain. “My love for you, as you are, flaws and all, is why I adore you so deeply.”

The man couldn’t bring himself to say anything. What did one say when the love of their life confessed feelings?

You couldn’t see the way he gazed down at you, almost lovingly. You stubbornly kept your cheek on his chest, trying to minimise the way your cheeks heated up. Why wasn’t he saying anything? But you were already so far in, so you couldn’t help but whisper, “you would do most anything for me, correct, good sir?”

“Within a heartbeat.”

“Do you mind if I demand something from you?” you asked.

Azriel chuckled softly at your question, the sound rumbling through his chest where your head rested. He tilted his head curiously as his fingers traced small circles on your lower back. “What did you have in mind, my princess?” he asked, his voice low. “I'm curious now... What could possibly entice you enough to make a deal with the devil himself?”

“Oh, the devil himself?” you repeated, shaking your head as you laughed softly. Somehow, he always managed to make you feel better, no matter the embarrassment that coursed through you. “Is that what you truly think of yourself?” You smiled up at him, not answering his question as you tried to find the courage to do so. Finally, you whispered out, “a kiss.”

Azriel's breath caught in his throat at your whispered confession. For a moment, he was stunned into silence, hardly believing what he heard. He could feel his heart skip a beat, like a leaf in the wind. You looked so small in his strong arms, so hopeful. “Is that all you would ask for?” he finally managed to ask. His wings twitched a bit.

You gave him a weak smile. “Yeah. That’s what I would demand.”

He stared down at you, taking in every detail of your face - the slight parting of your lips, the wide-eyed gaze, the flush creeping up your neck. He could feel the tension between you, thick and electric, like the air before a storm. His hand slid up your back, coming to rest at the nape of your neck. Gently, his fingers tangling in your hair. “Just a kiss,” he repeated, his voice a low rasp. “Nothing more?”

“Ignorant knight,” you whispered out once, laughing.

“Is that still what you want?” he asked again desperately. His heart hammered in his chest so hard it made him dizzy. His eyes traced over your face over and over again.

“Oh, Shadowsinger,” you muttered, shaking your head in amusement. You reached up and cupped his face in your palms. “Why won’t you kiss me?” You reached up on your tiptoes before slowly connecting your lips.

Azriel had been struck by lightning. Every nerve ending in his body came alive, sending sparks of pleasure through him. He stood frozen for a heartbeat, scarcely able to believe what was happening. Then, with a low groan, he melted into the kiss. His hand came to cup your face tenderly, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone as he deepened the kiss. He poured all his pent-up longing and affection into it, trying to convey without words just how much you mean to him.

From the sheer intensity of it, your knees weakened under you, but Azriel quickly wrapped his arm around your waist to hold you securely against his chest. You tilted your head and it felt like a dream. But he didn’t need to wake up because you were real. You were there, loving him fully and kissing him sweetly.

Azriel laid in bed, body and wings curled around the smaller form. His eyes blinked slowly, gazing down reverently at the infant. The baby had small wings that were almost exact to Azriel’s own. They had made the birth difficult and Azriel had been about ready to break down the door when he heard your screams. He hadn’t been allowed in the room, even though you had begged for him. Your cries had brought him to his knees and replaced the nightmares about his past missions with ones of your sobs.

Nevertheless, you had accomplished the horrible feat and Azriel had rushed into the room. He had first checked up on you, hands and anxieties flying about, kisses being placed on the skin that he could reach. Then he saw his little son, whom he now held in his arms.

You had recuperated over the months, but it never got old to Azriel to hold his child. It never got old to hold you either. The moment he had gotten his child in his arms, so unbelievably worried about doing harm to him as he had done harm to so many others in his past, Azriel had asked for another.

You had almost thrown him out of the room.

That first night, Azriel had held both you and child close to his bare chest, for the midwives had said that skin-to-skin contact was best. For the next few weeks, Azriel hardly put on a shirt (which you didn’t complain about), so it got normal to see the ex-knight pressing his son against his chest as he walked around the castle, as if giving the newborn a tour. The baby’s head fit perfectly in Azriel’s palm and more often than not, he would look up at his father with wide eyes that were so much like his mother’s, reaching out to grab at Azriel’s chin or wings.

The Shadowsinger had yet to be thrust into the life of King, for your parents hadn’t passed on, but for that he was grateful. It gave him more time to spend with his wife and child.

There was the creak of a floorboard and Azriel looked up to see you entering your shared bedroom. A smile instantly broke out on his face. “There’s my wife,” he murmured, reaching out with his hand that was adorned by the perfect ring. Its twin sat on your own finger. “My princess.” The words had such a sweeter connotation now.

“Husband,” you replied, having yet to get used to that word. You took his hand, and with a smile of your own, crawled into bed next to your son. “How are my two favorite Shadowsingers doing?”

“Oh, he shall not need that title,” Azriel hummed. “It’s much too dangerous for our little boy.”

“And what would you rather propose?”

Azriel gazed down at the small child, a hand ghosting over the boy’s thick patch of dark hair. “That’s for him to decide,” he finally said. “He will be able to make his own name and title and we will love him whichever path he chooses.”

After some blissful moments passed, you allowed some words to tumble from your mouth. “Are you happy, my love?”

“Of course.” He looked up at you, concerned eyes snapping away from the babe. “Why do you ask? Do you doubt my love for you?”

You shook your head, smiling. Your voice was quiet, worried about stepping over a line. But if almost two years of marriage had taught you anything about Azriel, it was that he never held secrets from you. “No, never. I just remember how, before we were wed, you were certain that everybody pitied you. I was wondering, do you still think they do?”

“No,” your husband replied, eyes soft as he looked over at you. “Why would they? My entire world is here with me now. I hardly need anything else.”

Thank you so much for reading! This is my first ACOTAR fic so I hope I did Azriel justice. 😊 I wanna thank @pellucid-constellations for writing amazing Azriel fics and getting me into ACOTAR in the first place and just being amazing. (Also @illyrianbitch for posting today and giving me the excitement to post for Az) 😁

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lifeasadorkwithnolife · 3 months ago

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Tortured Thoughts (Azriel X Reader)

Word Count: 3900

The reader and Azriel really don't like each other, so in a an effort to force them to get along, Rhys arranges a mission. But when the mission goes wrong and Ariel has to watch you get tortured, he realizes he would do anything to get you home.

“If anyone is going to save anyone, Azriel, it’s going to be me saving you.” You spit, fists up as you two circle each other on the small sparring pad. Both of your leathers were off, and you were drenched in sweat as the sun beat down. His eyes roll in a way you’re used to.

You can sense the kick coming and block it easily. He’s now on the other side of the ring, his eyes boring into yours. “I’m sure you wish that was the case.” He replies, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

You run at him, trying to jump onto his shoulders so you can wrap your legs around his neck. His arms catch you, and suddenly your slammed into the ground. The wind is knocked out of you and you scrunch your eyes closed, trying to breath through the discomfort.

When you finally open your eyes, Azriel s large shadow is blocking the sun and he’s staring at you in concern. You take a breath and cough, sitting up to catch your breath. “Asshole.” You mutter.

He reaches a hand out to help you up, but you slap it away, getting up on your own. He rolls his eyes, again, and stands up from his kneeling position, wiping his hands off on his pants “Are you done?” He asks warily.

“No chance.” Your fists rise again, no trace of a smile on your face anymore. Azriel stares at you, a look on his face. He opens his mouth to speak before he is interrupted.

“Although I’m sure you two would love to try to kill each other for another couple hours, I have some errands I need done.” Rhysands voice echoes, and you both turn to look at where the high lord has seemingly materialized.

“What is it?” Azriel asks, you sigh, placing your hand on your hip.

“I need to send a message to Eris.” Rhys muses, looking between you two, as if sensing the palpable tension in the air. “I would like you both to go, to cover each other’s back.”

“Oh please.” You laugh, turning to Azriel. His facial expression doesn’t change from the solumn look on his face. “Azriel would feed me to Eris at the first opportunity, wouldn’t you shadow singer?”

It’s now Rhys that rolls his eyes, and his gaze turns to Azriel, who looks between you two. “I’m not really…asking.” Rhys says, his voice growing sterner. “Cassian is busy, and I’m not letting Az handle this alone. You two need to learn to get along.”

“Fine.” You mutter, turning around and collecting your fallen clothing from the ground. “I’ll be ready within the hour. Azriel, if you’re not ready, I’ll do it myself.”

You storm off, slamming the door to the house behind you, leaving Rhysand and Azriel behind.

The flight was long and uncomfortable. Due to your lack of wings, Azriel had to carry you bridal style, one strong hand wrapped around your upper body and the other holding up your knees. Despite your weight, he didn’t seem to struggle, his wings making strong and powerful thrusts through the air as you went.

You can’t help but stare at them, you haven’t ever had a moment to appreciate their beauty because of who they are attached to. With the sun behind them, you could see the velvet texture, the strong muscle under them tensing and releasing with each beat.

As your eyes wandered to the other wing, they lock on Azriel’s curious ones. Immediately, you can feel the blush coming to your face and you choose a spot at the ground to look at instead. Trees, ranging in shades of dark green to orange, you were nearly there.

“What’s the plan?” You ask ,not turning your head towards him due to your proximity. “Are we just going to storm in there and demand to see him?”

“We have a meeting place.” Azriel replies, his voice gruff and serious. “We need to be careful, although we may have this thing with Eris, Baron would not hesitate to take us out if he found out we were here.”

“I’m not dumb.” You mutter, angrily looking at him. “I am careful, I haven’t died yet- have I?”

“I don’t think your dumb.” Azriel insists, you could feel his fingers flexing around your torso. “We’re about to land, hold on.”

The descent is fast, but his landing is nearly flawless as he drops to the ground. You quickly jump out of his arms, trying to create some space between you two. You stared at the male, why did you hate Azriel so much? Was it just because he hated you first?

“Lets get this over with.” You mutter, brushing off your sleeves and looking around you. You’re in a small circular clearing, trees on all sides in varying shades of red and orange. You look back at Azriel, and he is already walking the other direction.

You jog to catch up with him, letting out an annoyed huff as you glare up at him. “What happened to stick together? Have each others backs?”

Azriel smirked, turning his head down to look at you. “Not my fault you were going the wrong way.” He almost teases, you slap his arm.

“I’ve never been here before, how am I supposed to know where I’m going?” You ask, and he shrugs.

“I’m sorry, I was under the impression that you knew it all already.” He teases again, and you almost smile at his tone.

You two walk in silence, and you look at the trees around you. “it’s beautiful out here.” You whisper, looking up the sun through the swirls of orange and red leaves.

“It is.” Azriel whispers, and you look at him, nearly stopping in your tracks as your eyes lock with his. In that moment, with the red hues of light shining on Azriel’s features and his blue eyes sparkling, you knew that Azriel was the most beautiful male that you would ever see.

Suddenly, an arrow whizzes through the air, interrupting your moment. You turn, hands immediately grabbing the daggers strapped to your thighs. “Fuck.” Azriel mutters, and you can hear the tear as he pulls an arrow out of his wing. You look back at him in worry, and in that brief moment, you can hear the sound of an arrow being released, and feel the thud as that arrow lands in your thigh.

Your daggers move before you can think, immediately impaling your attacker in the chest. Another arrow is released, and Azriel makes another grunt. You can feel the ground start to move under you, and you look to Azriel. “Run, Y/N.” Azriel grunts, falling to his knees as the poison works through his system. But it’s too late.

The first thing you notice when you wake is the throbbing pain in your thigh, the second thing you notice is that when you go to reach your thigh, your arms are tied tightly down. You open your eyes, almost shutting them immediately due to the firelight.

“Looks who’s awake.” A mans gruff voice muses, and you open your eyes again, letting them take a moment to focus on the male in front of you. You didn’t recognize him, but you knew he must be one of Berons.

You struggle against the bonds, shaking the chair in place but it doesn’t move. Panic starts to rise in your chest as your head whips around, looking for Azriel. You see him, and his eyes are already on yours. He shakes his head, in a silent plea to stay still.

You still, looking back at the male. He walks towards you, knife in one hand, tapping it against his palm. “I know the shadow singer, but who are you?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“I’m no one.” You whisper, trying to keep your voice small. Maybe if he thought you weren’t a threat, you would be able to escape this and call for Rhys. You knew that Az and Rhys had a connection, but it was probably too far.

The knife found your cheek, and you could feel your body betray you as fear coursed through your system, your eyes closing in a wince. “Please, I’m no one. I swear, I was just..”

“She was my guide.” Azriel says, and the knife leaves your cheek. The man walks over to him, and you can clearly see his restraints. While you have one rope around each wrist, he has chains wrapped around his, and not just one, but multiple.

When you look closer, you can see blood trailing up his arms, almost as if he was struggling to get out- if Azriel couldn’t escape these bonds, how would you be able to? The male, his shining head reflecting the firelight, came up to Azriel. After a moment of silence, his fist flew through the air and connected with Azriel’s jaw.

A scream left your lips as you tried as the chair shook as you tried to get out of it, but it was no use.

“Why are you here, Shadow Singer?” The man asks, his voice raspy and deep.

“I was sent here by our healer.” Azriel explains, spitting blood on the ground. It leaves a slight red mark at the corner of his lip. “To pick up fireberries, they are very effective in treating fevers.”

Another fist flies, and Azriel takes it. Tears well in your eyes as you stare at him, but he doesn’t look at you. The male pulls out another knife, “Maybe this will help you talk.” He muses, slamming it into Azriel’s thigh.

You pull on the ropes again, seemingly more effected by the handle of the blade sticking out of Azriel’s leg than he is. The male pulls it out, becoming angrier at Azriel’s nonchalance. Another fist is thrown at Azriel’s face, and another, and you hear the sobs escape your body as you watch him.

“Stop!” You shout at the male. “You prick, he’s not lying.”

Azriel’s eye peeks open, and the glare he gives you could kill. The male turns slowly, cocking his head at you. He pulls on Azriel’s shirt and wipes the blood off his knife. Instead of looking at the male, you stare at Azriel. His face is bloody, and his cheek and lip have busted open. Blood is openly pulling from his thigh, and even though this mans focus was on you, you were glad you didn’t have to watch Azriel get hurt anymore.

“She doesn’t know anything.” Azriel states, spitting on the ground. “Hey asshole, I said she doesn’t know anything.”

The male turns back to Azriel, and Azriel’s spits at him, and it lands right on his cheek. The male chuckles, using his hand to wipe the spit away. You all stare at it for a moment, before his fist rises up and connects with your temple.

Your world is loud and cold for a fleeting moment as your head whips back, and then you feel the pain radiate to your eye as the moment ends. The male grabs you roughly by your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Tears brim in your vision as you stare at him. “What do you know?” He asks, and you shake your head, not even able to open your mouth to speak.

Another blow, even harder than the first one, causes your head to whip in the other direction. You hear Azriel’s shouts, but it’s almost drowned out by the ringing in your ears. Your head gets pulled back up to meet the eyes of the male. “Okay Shadow Singer, what are you two doing here?”

“Don’t-“You try to speak, and then the knife has left his hands and is in your own thigh. You scream in surprise, looking down at the blade handle protruding from your leg. You look up at Azriel, and his face is filled with complete panic and horror. His arms are flexed as he tries to escape the chains holding him down. “I’m okay, Az. I got-“

The knife is pulled out, and before you can shout in pain, it’s shoved into your other leg. A sob leaves your throat as you try to bend over, the blood from the first wound starting to trickle down the back of your leg.

“I’ll tell you!” Azriel shouts, nearly frantic. You look up at him and his eyes are still on yours.

You shake your head, but he keeps talking. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” Azriel tries to get the males attention back on him. “I’m working for Lucien.”

This phrase peaks the male’s interest, and he turns to look at back at Azriel. “How so?” The male asks, slowly stepping towards Azriel.

“Azriel- don’t.” You shout weakly, and Azriel hesitates.

“I need a map, I will tell you everything.” Azriel swears, and you hang your head in defeat. Your weakness, your inability to handle pain, was going to cost you everything- cost the night court everything.

“Okay, I’ll be back.” The male states, looking between you and Azriel. He then opens a door, exiting to a hallway.

After a few moments, another quiet sob escapes your lips as you stare at the dagger handle that’s jutting our of your thigh. “Hey, hey Y/n, look at me.” Azriel pleads, and your blood-soaked face looks up to meet his. “I will kill him.” Azriel promises, “but you need to do something for me.”

You nod, “anything.” You whisper, and he nods. “I need you to get out of those ropes.”

“I can’t.” You sob, pulling at them uselessly. He shakes his head.

“Stop, stop, look at me, please.” He pleads again, and you look back into his eyes. “Y/N, fuck, I’m sorry for getting you into this.”

“It’s not your fault.” You whisper, and he shakes his head.

“I need you…I need you to try, please.” Azriel whispers, “for me. Just think about how much you hate me, and use that to get out.”

“I don’t hate you.” You cry harder, sobs wracking your body.

“Please.” Azriel’s voice cracks, and he stares at you with a desperation you hadn’t seen on any male. “If you can get to that dagger, I promise- I will do whatever you want. I’ll stop fighting you, I’ll stop teasing you, I’ll stop egging you on, please Y/N, I will do anything- I just need to get you out of here.”

Your arms strain as you try to pull yourself out from under the ropes, but they were too tight. The door opens and the male walks back in, a large map in his hands. He eyes you suspiciously, and you can’t help but sob again.

“Damn.” The male mutters, clearing the table in the middle of the room and laying down the map. “You females and your emotions, you never know when to shut it.”

You cry harder, your vision blurring as the man starts to ignore you and speak to Azriel. You pull on the ropes again with your other arm, feeling the rope give just by an inch. You grit your teeth, forcing your wrist to wriggle under the rope, nearly popping it out of it’s socket.

The sound causes the male to turn, and before he can defend himself, the dagger is ripped out of your thigh and is flying through the air. He ducks out of the way, but the dagger lands right in the link of Azriel’s chains.

The male backs up, his back bumping into the table as Azriel rips the chains off layer by layer. His hands flex, and the male has the decency to look absolutely terrified. You look down at your leg, at the blood oozing through your leathers. You don’t feel the urge to fight your way out anymore, you were only fighting for Azriel anyway, now he would be okay.

Your head slumps forward and you close your eyes, feeling the tendrils of sleep find you. Suddenly a hand is gently slapping your cheek, and you feel irritation until your eyes meet Az’s. “Az.” You whisper, he’s quickly undoing your ropes that are around your torso and other arm. “You’re safe, you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” Azriel promises you, suddenly you’re being picked up into the air and you hear strong footsteps. “And you’re going to be okay too, I promise.”

“I was right.” You whisper again, a small smile coming to your face. You open your eyes again, he’s looking forward and there is a hallway past you two. He must be running. “I saved you”

“You’re always right.” Azriel pulls you closer to his chest, and suddenly you two are out in the night, and you breathe in a breath of fresh air. “Hey, don’t fall asleep on me now.” Azriel warns, and you shake your head.

“Az….”You open your eyes, and you realize, if you were to die anywhere, you would rather it be in his arms than anywhere else. You stared at him, even with his swollen eye and bloody lip, he still looked like the most beautiful male you had ever seen.” I’m sorry- for making you think I hated you.”

“Apologize later.” Azriel retorts, and you shake your head. Suddenly, his arms are tightening around you and you’re in the air. “You’re going to be fine, Y/N. I got you.”

You watch the sky behind Azriel seem to blur together, and his eyes finally lock on yours, his eyes the only thing in your focus. “Az…” You whisper. He shakes his head, clearing his throat. “You were going to tell them about Lucian, about everything-“

“Yes I was.” Azriel says, “You are the only thing that matters to me.”

You could feel yourself become more tired, and your eyelids started to drop. “I’ve always loved you-“

Days passed, and Azriel doesn’t leave your side, waiting for you to wake. Madja explained that it was the mixture of the poison from the arrows, blood loss and head force trauma that was causing you to take your time waking up.

Cassian and Rhys had both offered to stay with you, even promising to come running as soon as you woke, but Azriel did not move. He sat at your bedside, unmoving, watching each exhale and waiting in agony as he waited for your next breath.

“it’s not your fault, brother.” Rhys tries to comfort him, laying a hand on his shoulder. Azriel shrugs it off, his eyes never straying from your unconscious form.

“It is my fault.” Azriel mutters, the guilt eating away at his gut. “I could have asked her out like a normal person, but instead, I arrange for us to go on this mission so we can spend time together and nearly get her killed.”

“Nobody could know that would happen.” Rhys tries to soothe, and Azriel shakes his head. “Az-“

“I don’t want to talk.” Azriel dismisses Rhysand, and Rhys sighs, taking a look around the room. He sees the fresh flowers on the night table, and pain-relieving potions, ready for you when you wake. He looks back to Azriel, seeing the bags under his eyes, but knowing there’s nothing that he could do. If that was Feyre in that bed, unconscious, he knew he wouldn’t be as reasonable as Az was being.

He leaves the room, and Azriel stews in his thoughts, watching your chest rise and fall, your last words to him still ring in the air. “I’ve always loved you.” Cauldron, what was wrong with him? Why did he somehow hurt everything he loved?

His eyes finally leave you, and his head falls into his hands, pulling his hair. He stays in this position, and against his will, falls into unconsciousness.

“Hey.” You whisper, poking at Azriel, who’s passed out in the most uncomfortable looking position you’ve ever seen. His wings are pressed to the wall, and he definitely does not fit in your small beside chair. “Az-“

The speed at which his head moves almost scares you, causing you to clutch your chest. “Oh my- Azriel, are you okay?”

“How do you feel?” Azriel is immediately above you, holding your cheek and looking from one eye to the other. “Any pain, dizziness, are you sick to your stomac-“

“Azriel, I’m fine.” You pull his hand away, keeping it in yours. You had a few moments to yourself while he slept to recounter the events that went down in the night court. You took a closer look at him, noticing the bags under his eyes and the specks across his face- was that dried blood?

“Please tell me you’ve haven’t been sitting here since we got back.” You whispered, and he looks away. “Az, you look horrible.”

“As long as your alive, I don’t care how I look.” Azriel’s voice is full of relief, and you slowly move your hand up to touch his cheek. Your fingers run across the ridges of his cheek bone, and then down his jaw.

“You’re so annoying.” You mutter, and a frown crosses his lips. “No- I just mean that somehow you can get beat up and still look so good.”

A small smile crosses his lips, but then it’s almost instantly gone. “Really, Az, I’m okay.” He takes a shaky breath, nodding his head. You pat the spot next to you, scooting over and wincing at the pain in your legs.

He quickly hands you a vial, and you take it, recognizing it as one of Madjas mixtures. “Please, sit with me.” You insist, looking at him. “I..I just want to talk, please.”

Azriel nods, taking the place next to you and leaning back on the headboard. You two sit in silence for a moment before you finally break it. You look at him, “I…did you mean what you said?”

“Every word.” Az whispers, and you nod, grabbing his hand and playing with his fingers. He watches you, and you sigh.

“I am so glad that you are okay.” Your eyes tear up, and you look at him. His brows furrow, and his hands grip yours tightly. “being there- seeing you tied up, it made me realize that although we fight, you are the only person I really care about. You’re the only person who..you’re the only one.” You can’t even make a comprehensive sentence.

Azriel nods, giving your hand another squeeze. “Y/N, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it now, none of it matters without you.”

You nod, wiping a stray tear from your eye as you smile weakly at him. “I will never let you get hurt again.” Azriel swears, and you nod. “I would go to the ends of the world to save you.”

You squeeze his hand, and you both lay back on the headboard. A few, quiet moments later, he’s asleep. You look at the male, the male you love, and also lean back in contentment, closing your eyes and falling asleep right next to him.

#azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel one shot

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bluetimeombre · 1 year ago

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✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ And I wouldn't marry me, either part 2

You were Azriel's mate, but it took losing you three times for him to realise.

[thank you for the love on part one, I’m so happy Azriel is getting the love he deserves!!!! This is another long one, another 6k. But I’ve learnt a new love for writing about him and i have so many ideas. This is a continuation and final part, part one here. Enjoy]

warnings: references to sexual assault and references to suicide. nothing explicit but please don't read if this is sensitive to you.

The third time Azriel almost lost you, he was pretty sure he lost a part of himself.

They'd all gone into battle, knowing that Hybern had the numbers to match and the advantage. But they'd all gone to fight in spite of that.

It had took some time for you to get the boys to agree to let you fight- you'd trained and grew up with all three of them but this was fighting on another scale. Although, if they were going, there really wasn't much they could say to get you to stay.

You were clad in Illyrian leathers just like them, armed with weapons and power.

The first battle was over quicker than you'd anticipated. Hybern soldiers surrendered, Tarquin drowned them on land. You'd suffered little, only falling on bed exhausted by the end of the day. Sadly, you were sharing a tent with Cassian and Azriel. It was like you were young again, all sleeping in the same room. It was a habit you'd done when you were young- all looking out and protecting each other.

The only difference was that Cassian snored as he got older.

But the next battle was worse.

It was bigger than last. Hybern's forces had doubled, seemingly at of nowhere, cutting their forces apart.

It was chaos, everywhere. Every corner there was fighting and bleeding and dying. There was pain all around you. Pain you felt like it was your own.

You used all your power, as much as you could to kill and protect. From the corner of your eyes you could see Azriel fight. Your Azriel, weaving in and out of people. Your mate. He was alive. And that was all you cared about.

But you didn't realise how much you'd been pushing herself and draining your power. Every time you stopped, you swayed on your feet, stumbling.

One of Hyberns men came for you as you were crouched and you barley blocked with your sword, rolling onto your back and slashing his arm off.

Not before he landed a sword in your thigh.

It had been deep burning and you yelled, yanking it out. Even with the wound, you kept fighting and fighting your way through until you saw a blaze of red and a familiar cry.

Cassian.

He'd been run through.

It was easy to push past exhaustion and winnow to his side, killing the man who'd been near him and any others that had been close enough. You fall to your knees next to him. 'Cassian, you prick.'

'You kiss your mate with that mouth,' he gasped. He was the only one who knew about Az and the bond. The only one you'd allow to make jokes.

You look down to his wound and gaged. Mother above, his guts were hanging out. 'No, no, no, come on, big guy, you have to stand.'

He groaned. 'Yea, don't think I can do that, sweetheart,' his eyes, lulled back.

You slap him in the face. Perhaps you wouldn't have felt guilt if it weren't for the way his eyes widened. 'You know I hate being called that.'

He laughed as his stomach and all its contents heaved out. Ignoring the pain in you, you hold his stomach, keeping him together. 'I promised Nesta i'd look after her,' he said. 'Please look after her.'

'Do it yourself,' you groaned.

Finally, Azriel came to your side and picked Cassian up like it was nothing, flying him to the tents. If only you still had your wings, you could have done it, saved him quicker.

Then, you were thrown back into the battle. Covered in his blood and yours, you fought through them all, slashing and killing like it was nothing. Like you had no reason to bat an eyelash at anything happening.

Eventually, it ended, but you couldn't even concentrate on who won or how much you'd lost. Your head ached, your leg was tied up in a bloody bandage ripped from your clothes. But none of that mattered.

Cassian was in bed, healing slowly. But he would live, everyone could tell. Especially with the way he picked fights. He argued with Rhys about throwing himself into danger, him and Nesta appeared to be having words with their eyes. Even Mor and Feyre argued. You were the only one silent with Azriel in the back. Too exhausted to even open your mouth.

That night, you tied up your wounds and fell asleep without changing.

It only got worse.

Elain- Feyre's sister and the most precious- was stolen from Hybern. You had only agreed to go and save her with a few selected others because your mate was in that few selective others.

It hadn't escaped your notice how he looked at her, was watchful over her like he once was with you. You saw the tick in his jaw at the news she was gone. You knew that this was the reason you hadn't told him. Knowing that he deserved someone like her, better than you. Kind and hopeful. You weren't. So the only thing you could do was watch your mate find love in someone else.

And you'd do it grudgingly but happy for him.

Azriel had took of with her. You and your high lady fought, fought through ash arrows and everything.

'You should get out of her, y/n,' said Feyre.

You groaned as an arrow skimmed your shoulder. Another had already got your hip. 'If you try to order me out of here, i'll be really pissed off at you.'

'I don't care if it gets you out!' she snapped, arguing like a real sister would.

'Yea, well- I was never one to listen to Rhys either.'

And Azriel was gone. Everything was fine.

You and Feyre ran, ran even as Tamlin defended you, ran until-

An arrow hit you in the back, straight to one of your old wing scars.

You tumbled, rolling on the ground as it broke and imbedded in your back. You screamed, in spite of yourself.

'You have to fly,' someone was telling you. Or saying it in general, frankly you had no idea what was going on. 'You have to take her.'

You rolled onto your stomach, groaning and trying to get yourself up. There was blood running down your arm, how did that get there?

'Y'n.'

You groaned, 'Azriel. I can't fly.'

'I know, I know- i've got you.' He picked you up, arm under your legs and around your shoulders.

'Elian, Azriel-'

'Feyre has her,' he told you. He sounded angry. Or afraid. Somehow his emotions were very easy to mix up.

'Feyre isn't strong enough.'

'She'll have to be.'

'You should take them, Elian-'

'I don't give a fuck about Elian right now, y'n.'

Just like that, he took off with you in his arms and your blood raining down on the camp of Hybern. You could barley hear anything over the wind... but you could feel it.

Something had tugged painfully at the bond, throwing you into a scream. Something had happened to Azriel. You twisted in his arms, finding gashing claw marks in his back from one of the hounds that had chased them down. His face was bleached white in pain, his hold on you tight.

Glancing around, you could just see Feyre in a blur of people.

'Azriel-' you gasped. He was in pain, so much pain.

He didn't say anything, just squeezed you tighter and looking ahead, barking orders as Feyre flew for the first time in need, in desperation. You remembered what that was like, trusting your life in them. But Azriel's wings, they were bleeding out. You remembered the pain. You'd go through it every day to spare him a minute of it.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You and Azriel landed back in the camp in a blur of pain.

Even with him leaving a trail of blood, he managed to set you down like you were porcelain. You didn't cry out. You didn't yell for help. You threw his arm over your shoulder and supported him.

Nesta and Rhys rushed to Feyre.

You hated your brother for a long moment.

Elain wondered over, chained but whole.

Azriel moved from you, checking on Elian. You only managed to watch them as she kissed his cheek.

The pain came to you then. Your head, shoulder, back. You turned from the crowd of family. Elain moved to hug her sister, Rhys stayed at Feyre's side.

Thesan, someone you barley knew as more than a healer, came to you first but you pushed him away, pushed him to Azriel. 'His wings. Heal him, or i'll rip you to pieces.'

He didn't have to be told twice.

You stumbled your way to camp, to your little tent. You didn't share it with Cassian anymore as he was still healing and Azriel would be a while- needing healing of your own.

You collapsed on the bed, promising to look after yourself- just after your nap.

You were so fast asleep you didn’t even hear Azriel come in and sigh at the sight of you…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Azriel was fighting when it happened. Specifically, when it snapped.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

No, he wasn't completely healed. But he had to fight. He wouldn't push himself, he knew that would be stupid. But he wouldn't watch as everyone fought. As you fought. He'd hardly seen you. He knew your back would be in pain. He knew you'd be in pain and you were still fighting, so far from him and out of reach.

He was thinking of you when it snapped.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

His soul sang it, his heart rose with it.

His shadows whispered it.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

y/n.

And the first thing he felt over the bond wasn't happiness or love. It was pain. It was death.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

In spite of the pain in his wings, how he'd been told not to fly, he did. He jumped into the skies, soaring over armies and dead to find you. He followed that pain, he followed the bond until he found you.

You, lying in your own blood. Again.

He fell next to you, his power eradicating anywhere near you. They dissovled, the ground cracked under him and his syphons shone in raw power.

'y/n?' he held your body, shaking you. Blood, so much. A sword had torn through your gut. 'Don't do this to me.'

Mate. Mate. Mate.

You cough, a thin stream of blood rolling from your lips. 'Azriel?'

'You're mine,' it was the first thing he could bring himself to say. 'You're my mate. Y/n. You have to hold on, ok? I'm gonna-gonna get you to safety.'

Something like a laugh escaped you, your body wracking with it. 'Of course, finally snaps for you as i'm dying.'

Snaps for you. Mate. Mate.

She knows, his shadows sung. She's known.

Azriel called out to Rhys in every way he could. 'We're gonna be fine. We're gonna be mates, y/n. You have to live, you understand?'

'Not really.' your eyes flutter shut.

'No!' he yelled, shaking you again.

'What's happened?' Rhysand landed next to him, blanking when he saw you in Azriel's arms, bleeding to death. How many times did this have to happen? How many times would you throw yourself into danger?

'She's my mate,' Azriel repeated. He tested it out loud, speaking it to the mother. How cruel was she? to give him this then try to take her away. Well, the mother wouldn't get that chance. Azriel would fight her if she tried to lay a hand on your life.

'What?' said Rhys.

'My mate,' he all but growled as Rhys got closer.

He put a hand on the back of Azriels neck, a hand on your head. 'We have to save her, Az.' he knew all about mating of course, knew that Azriel wanted nobody around her. But this was too save her. 'She's my sister too, the last sister I have. I care about her to.'

Azriel wanted to throw a thousand insults his way but refrained. If not because he was high lord, but also because you were dying.

They got you to safety, Azriel carrying you through to a tent.

'Y/n?!' Cassian rushed over, seeing you in his brothers arms, bleeding out and unresponsive.

Azriel pushed past him, setting you down on the bed. 'Get everyone, every healer now.' He had no idea who he was trying to demand, but he couldn’t watch this, couldn’t see you in.

You were still in your bed. Behind him, Feyre rushed to her mate, wrapping her arms around his torso as your brother stared at you in muted horror.

Azriel was leaning over you, sitting on the edge of the bed. ‘She’s my mate.'

'What?' Said Cassian, ‘She told you?'

Azriel felt the world stop around him. Not did you know about the bond and hadn’t told him, you’d told someone else? Cassian? His hand stilled in brushing your hair back, his shadows coaxing you instead.

Rhysand spoke what Azriel wanted to scream. 'You knew?'

'She-She told me,'

Azriel had always had an iron fist control on his emotions, as relied on to be spy master, he had to. But his patience was hanging on by a thread. You were still bleeding out and nobody had come and Cassian knew. Cassian knew about his mate before he did.

His shadows caressed you and, leaving you in the coolness of their touch, he leapt up, marching around the bed toward him.

Rhys was quicker, a hand on Azriels chest to stop him. 'Calm, brother.'

'Calm?' He seethed. 'When-how long have you known?' He shouted.

Cassian breathed out, pushing his hair back . His wings were tucked in behind him. 'She told me, before she went under the mountain.'

Even Rhysand let him go, blowing out air and throwing his arms over his head as Feyre gasped.

Azriel stumbled, a hand to his chest. His shadows were divided between him and caring for you. 'Fifty years,' he gasped.

You’d known for fifty years- possibly longer and hadn’t said a word.

He was panicking, his breath escaping him. His shadows settled uneasy around him. And the only person who was capable of calming him was laying unconscious.

Thesan burst in, knowing the injured already and working on you quickly.

Azriel almost launched at him, just for touching you. The reasonable part of him knew he needed to touch to heal, but the part that was your mate wanted him dead.

Cassian held him back, physically.

Azriel glowered at him. 'I wouldn’t touch me if i were you, brother,' he practically spat the words.

Rhysand left Feyre with a kiss on her cheek, coming to Azriel who was looking over you on the other side. 'Az, you need to rest-you’re hurt, too, remember?'

He shook his head, staring down at you. Mother above you were pale, so pale. 'I-I can’t feel anything Rhys, I can’t feel her through the bond.'

'My sister is a fighter, she’ll make it through.'

Azriel scoffed. His shadows were caressing up and down your arm. ‘Don’t pretend you’ve ever cared about her like a brother.'

Rhysand inhaled sharply. This was just fear, he told himself. 'Azriel.'

'No,' he said, his finger brushing back your hair. 'You only care about her when she’s dying and all y/n does is worship you- ever since you were children.'

Cassian tried to advance, 'Azriel, you wouldn’t be saying any of this if y/n wasn’t hurt.'

He laughed, bitterly. 'No, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t have to. I’d bite my tongue. But your sister is dying and the last time you cared was the last time she almost died- it killed her to lose her wings and you were never there! And you teach your mate to fly right in front of her!'

Rhys growled. ‘Don’t bring my mate into this!'

‘You’ve brought mine into this!' He yelled. 'Everything she does is for you. Working for you. My mate followed you down to the mountain even when you didn’t care.'

'Of course I cared.'

'Then why did she feel so alone down there!'

‘How would you know, Azriel? You weren’t there!'

'Because I know her, bond or not. And you’ve been otherwise occupied.'

Cassian moved between the two, holding them apart. 'None of this matters to y/n does it.'

Azriel blankes them all, settling next to you. He vaguely heard Cassian send Rhysand and Feyre away. He felt him longer before he felt him leave.

And then all Azriel could feel, was you.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You felt pain first. The steady thumping of it through your body. It started in your leg, numbing it. Then, her back ached- a familiar pain you'd felt before. It sent panic through you before you realised they can't take your wings twice.

Then, it was in your gut, stinging. Just the thought of moving was hurting- aching.

There was a coldness around you, draped over like shadows. Shadows...

That's when you felt the tug that you'd neglected to feel for more than half a century.

The bond. There was finally something tied to the other end.

The shadows around you must've known you were awake as they grew frantic around you.

You opened your eyes, slowly, afraid to what you may see. Afraid to the eyes you'll have to meet.

Azriel was sat on a chair next to you, bare chested with only bandages around him. Immediately, you were at a disadvantage. He was looking at you, dark eyes pouring into yours as his hands curled around shadows.

'What happened?' you asked.

'You were run through,' he said, voice wavering.

'Oh.'

'You're my mate.'

Your eyes flickered away, staring at your tent. 'Oh.'

'That's it?' he whispered. There was some heart-break tainting his voice. 'You're not gonna say something?'

You pulled the blanket over you, daring to move to sit up. He shifted, but his shadows helped you. 'What do you want me to say, Az?'

'Why did you tell Cassian and not me?' he asked. 'Why didn't you tell me, for fifty years?'

'It's-it's not a big deal.'

'Not a big deal?' he all but seethed. 'I'd say finding your mate is a pretty big thing, y/n. It's the person to spend the rest of your life with.'

'Can we not, do this now?' you winced, as the words left your mouth.

'You're right, maybe we should wait another fifty years to bring it up when you're dying.' you've never heard him be so cruel, you'd never even argued with him before this.

'I wasn't dying,' you mumbled.

He scoffed. 'You had an infected wound in your leg that you didn't tell anyone about. An ash arrow was imbedded in your back. Imbedded! You didn't see anyone about it and then- you run into battle and get yourself stabbed.'

'I didn't get myself stabbed!' you argued, your temper rising above all other judgment. 'I didn't rush out in there, wanting to die!'

'I held you as you bled out!' he yelled, standing up from his seat. You were swinging your legs over the bed, ignoring every twinge in your body. 'Do you have any idea what that's like? Not even to hold you as you die in my arms the first time but the second. And to know this time, I was holding my mate?'

You bit down on your lip. He had to use the word with such care and love even when angry. You could feel it. For once, guessing his emotions wasn't needed as you felt it all. The taunt anger in him, the pull of anxiety and above all else, the weight of his love.

Azriel walked around you. 'Please, you have to tell me. Why didn't you say something to me? Why wouldn't you tell me you're my mate? Am I that repulsive to you?'

'What?'

He gulped.

You shook your head as he knelt in front of you, shadows pooled around the two of you, as if they were trying to hold the two of you together. You took his hands, holding them and let something like love flow down the bond. 'You are the most beautiful thing in this world. Something better than me. I wouldn't burden you with that.'

He rose his gaze to you. 'Burden me?'

'Do you think i've enjoyed lying to you?' you ask, finally finding your words. 'Do you think I've liked being your mate and never being with you? That I left you for fifty years and thought of you every moment of every day, all day long. That when I come back I wonder if you or Mor had grown closer? Or if Elian would finally tell you how much she loves you? It's been eating me alive. But it's a small price to pay.'

Azriel grasped at his words, chocking on them. 'Elian is nothing to me, nothing.'

You pushed yourself up, using his shoulder to steady yourself before you move around him. 'Why? Have you only just decided that because I’m your mate? That’s not how it should go, Azriel.'

He was following you around your tent as you slipped on armour and leathers over your night dress. ‘I want you, only you.'

'Because of the bond?'

'Because I’ve always only wanted you!'

You laugh. 'No, you haven’t.'

'If we’d talked about this maybe fifty years ago you’d know that!'

You shook your head. Perhaps a part of you didn't want to believe him and all those wasted years at your fault, but you didn't want to believe his words either. Because what did that mean? That he loved you and wanted you. But that seemed just as impossible to you. How could he want someone so wrecked who'd done nothing but run away from her feelings and does nothing to make anyone happy?

'I don't want you to feel like that,' said Azriel, approaching her. She thought she'd spoken aloud before she realised he could feel everything that was hers. She'd only ever had to shield her thoughts from her brother- and he rarely sort her thoughts. 'Please, please-' he took your shoulders, turning you around and gently resting his head on yours.

You could feel his warm breath over your lips. You almost lost all resolve, with him that close. You'd never been so close to him, close enough to touch. To kiss. To know finally what it mean to have that deep connection that everyone was meant for.

One person in the whole world to belong to.

And he was stuck with her.

'Azriel-'

'Whatever you're thinking about yourself, i've thought about me a thousand times. And ever since we were kids you've always stopped me from thinking that. You've always told me what I was worth,' he whispered. His hands were wondering down your arms, sending shivers down you. He could've been doing it on purpose, distracting you. 'Why won't you accept it for yourself?'

You gulped down every uneasy thought. 'Because you're good, Az and i'm-'

'You're everything.'

'I'm not,' you look up at him, his own face blurry from your tears unwilling to fall. 'I'm not a fighter, i'm afraid of pain. And I could never be a leader, because i'm scared of losing people. I'm terrified about it half the time. Why do you think I followed Rhys down to that stupid party that I knew I wouldn't come back from? Because he'd do the same for me? We both know he wouldn't. But what would losing him mean for you? or Cass, or Mor? I was a coward and I wanted to hide from all the pain his leaving would have caused.'

Azriel shook his head, words sinking in. You were comparing yourself, to warriors like him and Cass, to the high lord- your own brother. 'It was unbearable without you. Maybe if it was just Rhysand i'd have still been able to be spymaster, because that's what he needed. But when I realised you'd gone to, it ruined me,' he admitted. 'I didn't care what you would've wanted, because you weren't here to tell me.'

You rub at your forehead, the tension creating a pain in your already aching body.

'And to anyone who made you feel inferior or worthless, i'll kill them,' he said. It was a shine of the real Azriel. The one who made a promise and never broke it.

You smirk. 'Can't kill the high lord.'

'No,' huffed Azriel, like it was a mild inconvenience. 'But I sure can punch him in the face.'

You laughed at that and Azriel smiled. He'd cracked you.

But your amusement dropped quickly, he felt it like a penny dropping. He let go of you as you turned away, wiping at your eyes. He didn't want to see you cry, didn't want to be the one to make you upset. He only wanted to make you feel loved.

'This isn't how I wanted this to go.'

Azriel suddenly felt conscious of himself. Maybe this wasn't so much about what you felt, maybe it was more about what you felt toward him. 'You really hate the mating bond that much?'

You look over to him. 'Being your mate is my greatest honour. But I don't want you to love me just because you have to.'

'It's not that-'

'And I know you're gonna keep saying that.'

'Until you believe me,' he assured her. 'Even if I have to tell you every day until I die.'

'I can't ask you to do that.'

He smiled at you, a heart-breaking smile of love. 'You haven't.'

You open your mouth to say something, but you're interrupted by Cassain poking his head through the tent flaps. The rest of his whole body was hidden, only showing his bronze face and hair framing him. There was a sheepish smile on his lips.

Azriel huffed. 'Cassian.'

'What? It didn't sound like much love making going on.'

'Mother above,' you sighed.

'What?' whined Cassian. 'I'm just saying, didn't sound like I was interrupting anything.'

'Personally I didn't know he was capable of saying that many words,' said another voice, familiar and dull. Nesta.

You frown. 'I'm sorry, is the whole camp out there.' You storm out, without Azriel to stop you.

He let you get away, again, and now there was no way he'd get you to accept the bond until the battle was done.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The next time you and Azriel spoke, the war was over.

Elian had stabbed Hybern, Nesta had delivered the killing blow, to the head. And your brother had died.

For those few minutes of his death you wanted Feyre weep for him as you stood paralyzed, unable to move. This was the brother you worshiped, the one you’d follow to the end of the world. Did he know that when he went where you could not follow?

Feyre had done everything she could, she begged for his life back. And when her wish was granted, you were collapsing on his other side. Tears of joy in your eyes that Rhys wiped away.

Your family, safe.

Everyone seemed happy to return to Velaris. Home. Scars were left over everyone, fears and pains. Some wore them better than others.

You'd thrown yourself into life. And avoiding Azriel. Suddenly there were many friends you'd neglected that you needed to take dinner with, or so many spontaneous Rita nights with Nesta.

And none of it escaped his notice. The steady thump of the bond still thrived inside of you, his shadows followed everywhere you went, even loitering in your room.

If he was doing it in an attempt to annoy you, then you weren't gonna break first.

After a particularly harrowing Rita's night, the only thing you wanted to do was sleep in for the rest of the day, hide away from everyone and everything. Call it your coping mechanism.

Alas, there was no peace as your curtains were thrown open, light spilling in and burning through your eyelids.

'Knock it off!' the shadows had never bothered with waking you up before- it seemed they'd picked the worst time to start.

'We need to talk,' said a voice that certainly wasn't a shadow.

Rhysand.

You groan, rolling over. 'Can't you talk to me when i'm not hungover.'

'And when would that be, sister? you're getting as bad as Nesta.'

You throw your pillow off and at him, but he dodged it easily and with a smug smile. 'I hate it when you call me that.'

'What? When I compare you to Nesta? Clean up your act then.' He stood over your bed, his arms folded over his chest.

You glare at him. 'I meant sister.' You shuffled up, brushing your hair back.

Rhysand frowned and perched himself on the edge of your bed. There was something he wasn't saying, and you watched it weight heavy on his shoulders. 'You know the last time I was in your room you were throwing glasses at me and yelling at me to get out.'

'Well, don't give me ideas.'

His lips curled into a smile of amusement before he turned solemn again. 'Do you love me, y/n?'

You hadn't expected that. Your hangover could only get worse, your head swimming with possibilities as to why he was asking. And nervous, you were nervous. Maybe you'd never said you loved him out loud but surely your actions were enough of a tell. 'You're my high lord and my brother, of course.' you shrug it off, as if it was nothing.

The shadows trailed up the bed, as if sensing your anxiety.

Rhysand glanced over at you. 'Do you think I don't love you?'

You hesitate, chewing at the skin of your gum.

'Because I do. I do love you. You're my little sister, how can I not?' he muttered. 'And I didn't know you felt like that.'

'It was just sort of... obvious,' you said. 'I was never your sister, not really. I always knew that. You'd never see me like that so, I gave up thinking you would. But you're the only family I have.'

'No, I'm not,' he denied. 'Y/n, everyone in this house loves you. They're your family. And i'm sorry- i'm so sorry if my actions have ever made you think different.'

'Why now?' you ask, eyes screwed up looking at him. 'Why are you saying all this now, what's changed?'

He shook his head, strands of his hair- the same as yours- falling over his eyes. 'You almost died, died on that battlefield and I-I wasn't the first one there. Granted, it was your mate that reached you first but I, I wasn't there quick enough.'

You meet his gaze, his purple eyes sad in a way you'd only ever seen under the mountain. 'You died.'

'And as I was dying one of my deepest regrets was not calling you sister enough,' he shifted closer, taking your head in his hands as if you were a little kid. 'You are my sister. Full flesh and blood. Full love of mine. You are my family. After everything you've done for me. You were right, I needed you under there, when there was nothing good to keep me grounded, but you. My little sister.'

You were sure you were tearing up in front of him.

'You'll always be my sister.'

You laugh. 'Maybe I should get stabbed more often.'

'No,' he said seriously. 'I don't think Azriel would like that very much.'

The mention of him changed the tone in conversation, changed the very beating of your heart.

'What's going on with you two?'

'Oh, I see,' you tease, 'talk to me above sister and brotherly relations just to get in my love life. Not a good look on you high lord.'

He laughed. 'No, it's not that. I just care about the two of you, a lot. And you both deserve to be happy. And I think you'd be happiest with each other.'

You look down, twirling the rings on your fingers.

'Would it be so bad to try to love him?'

You shake your head, smiling as a tear rolls down your cheek. 'I don't even have to try. Feels like i've loved him forever.' his shadows climbed up your arm, leaving Rhysand to smile at the affection.

'You'll work it out,' said Rhys, leaning over and kissing the crown of your head.

Your door was thrown open, startling the two of you.

Azriel stood there. For his entrance, he didn't at all seem that confident when he stood in front of the two of you. His hands didn't know how to hold themselves in front of him.

Your brows rose. 'Were you listening at the door?'

'Azriel,' scolded Rhysand with a stupid grin.

'Get dressed,' he said simply to you. 'There's something you need to see.'

Without much room for argument, you kicked them both out and dressed.

You'd grudgingly let Azriel hold your hand as he led you through the woods. You'd winnowed in at an illyrian camp before he took you through it and into the woods close by.

It was the same camp you'd first met Azriel in. The oldest where you'd all become friends. You'd asked what you were doing there, but he was quiet as he led you through, helping you over roots or breaking twigs from the trees so they didn't hit you.

'Azriel, to any other girl, you leading her silently through a woods without saying anything would be a bit suspicious,' you tell him. His shadows trailed behind the two of you and his hand was secure in yours. You knew not to be scared, but you were still cautious.

'I wouldn't show any girl this,' he said.

After another half hour of walking, the two of you stumbled across a small hut. It was a tiny thing really, made out of twigs and sticks, hay and mud. It looked like something a child was capable of making.

Azriel paused in front of it. He let go of you hand and reached for the door. He was as tall as it and his wings had to tuck in tightly behind him.

Hesitantly, you followed in.

It was just as small as it looked and dirty, like it hadn't been touched in years. Cobwebs hung low (his shadows quickly tried to bat them all away for you) there was dirt and hay all over the floor. Glasses were dust filled and left around with a hundred other things. Some looked new, others old.

And yet, strangely familiar.

'I made this place,' said Azriel.

You looked back at him. He was hunched over a large box that was overflowing with things. 'You?'

'The first time my brothers picked on me, I came to these woods, working on this for days. Every time things got too much back then, i'd come here. I've been coming back for years.' he glanced at you, a sheepish look on his face. 'I've never showed anyone this before.'

You look around the place in new perspectives. The shadows settled around the place. You pictured a little Az, running here and hiding from his brothers. Did he feel alone? Did he feel un-loved? You were so enamoured by it you didn't realise he'd settled on the ground, pulling out things from his box.

'This is your glove, the one's you were wearing when we first met. You took them off to beat up some kid who was being mean to me. You didn't go back for them, you didn't even care.'

He said, pulling out a pair of red wool gloves. In spite of the hut, they were in perfect condition. Pristine. You remembered first meeting him, remembered the little soldier who'd been horrible. Those gloves wouldn't go anywhere near your hand now.

Azriel went in again. 'This is the empty glass jar of the cream you used to help my burns. Here's a book you read to me when I couldn't flip the pages myself. The notes you'd leave when you had to go back to camp. The flowers you picked for me and gave me for my birthday. Dried and stamped from every time you gave them to me.'

You stood, in shock as he kept taking things out.

'A terrible drawing I did of you when I was young. A locket of yours that broke and you never wore again. Stamps from our first theatre trip. Empty bottles from our first night together in Rita's- and Cassian's too. A letter you wrote to me when I was on a mission. A black ribbon from your hair, you used to always wear it with these things. Honestly, the amount I have in here,' and he pulled out several, of varying shades. Black, white, grey, red, dark green. All yours.

Azriel wasn't done. 'A page of annotations you did in one of Rhysand's books. A copy of your favourite poems. A coaster from the first time just you and I went to dinner. Here's some stones from when I first taught you to skim them. A quill that I used to use to write you letters. An old ring of yours is here too. Here's the first dagger you got me. It's too precious to me to be used to kill.'

Tears were falling down your cheeks as you watched him pull them all out and explain them in depth. There was more but the sight of it all was becoming blurred through your tears. The bond felt heavy and beautiful in you.

Azriel finally put the box down and fell to his knees in front of you. His hands came around the back of your thighs, holding you there as his eyes looked up into yours. 'Don't you ever think I don't love you, when I have loved you since we were eleven years old.'

You stutter on you breath. 'H-how?'

He rests his head on your stomach, looking utterly at your will and completely in love. 'How could I not?'

Slowly, as you could not move too fast, you settled down on your knees across from him. His hands moved up to your arms as yours went to his cheeks, brushing back his hair.

'It was always going to be you, wasn't it?' you mumbled. 'How could it be anyone else?'

Azriel kissed you then, finally. His lips were as soft as they'd looked, as you'd always imagined. His hands drifted to your waist, finger tips digging into to hold you close. His hands were strong, but his lips were gentle. He pulled away, only to groan in need before reaching for your lips again, harder, desperate.

His teeth bit down on your bottom lip, tongue sliding in to feel every corner of your mouth as his hands wondered around you, trying to grip onto any bit of you he could. Your arms wrapped around his neck, bringing him closer. Close enough to consume, to breath in.

You pulled back enough to catch your breath, arms still around his shoulders. 'Mother above, am I gonna make you the best meal of your life.'

But that could wait. For now, you'd settle for a dusty floor in the little house in the woods.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Taglist: @tothestarsandwhateverend @darlingbravebelle @lil-lupa @haileycannotcometothephantom @fairywriter-oracle @isa1b2h3 @tele86 @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @unleashthelion @naturakaashi @aurora1115 @sirens-and-moonflowers @azriels-shadowsinger @willowpains @crazylokonugget @abysshaven @anuttellaa @wishfulwithwine @one-big-fangirl @harrystylesfan2686 @charlotteintumbleland @mellowarcadefun @starseedsamurai

#azriel x cassian x reader #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel #acotar #rhysand #cassian #nesta archeron #feyre archeron #azriel x oc #azriel x elain #azriel x female!reader #azriel x original character #swifties

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spookythesillyfella · 6 months ago

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i guess that daisuke just speakz to me on such a personal level becauze he waz considered such a failure for not living up to conventional achievementz [being good in school . having a good job]

he alwayz wanted to be appreciated by people who he viewed az "skilled" and "knowledgable" – hiz mother quite literally called him "a slacker" . so of courze he'd want to separate himself from that label by gaining the appreciation of people who are "hard-working" and "experienced"

i think that the way he triez to reassure everyone that he'z alright by exaggerating hiz pozitivity . despite the fact he'z scared of being on the tulpar . and that he doezn't even want to be there in the first place . becauze he doezn't want to be seen az "sensitive" n "childish" iz just so real ..

he'z so wonderful ...

#thiz iz probably the most bullshit analysis anyone haz ever done on him #and im certain that itz just like . surface level obsercationz #but actually playing through mouthwashing really did help me connect to him even more than i previously waz #him doing anything just to get the approval of jimmy . risking hiz life to “save” anya and curly to make them all proud #even going az far az to go along with jimmy'z plan of knocking out swansea #not to mention the “we'll get so many people interviewing us when we get back on earth <)” iz tied to the pozitive attention –#– that he seekz from otherz #spooky's soliloquies #mouthwashing #mouthwashing daisuke #pleaze don't send me hate for thiz post #i know itz stupid . but i genuinely feel like i needed to voice my thoughtz about him

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bookwormjust · 4 months ago

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Peeling Oranges and Guarded Hearts : Small Acts of Love in the River House

(Azriel x mate reader)

The late afternoon sunlight poured into the River House, illuminating the cozy living room where you, Elain, Feyre, and Nesta were sitting. Elain, as usual, was soft-spoken but smiling as she admitted,

“I love oranges, but I hate peeling them. Those little white bits always get stuck under my nails.”

You smiled at her, already rising from your seat. “I can peel it for you, Elain. No problem.”

Elain’s eyes lit up with gratitude. “Oh, thank you! You’re so sweet.”

With a warm laugh, you made your way to the kitchen where the males were gathered, deep in discussion. Azriel was perched on a stool, his sharp eyes scanning a piece of parchment, while Rhysand leaned casually against the counter, and Cassian gestured animatedly as he spoke. Lucien stood nearby, listening with a small smirk. As you entered, the room’s energy shifted slightly, the males pausing in their conversation to glance your way.

“I’m peeling an orange for Elain,” you announced with a smile, holding up the fruit. “Does anyone else want one while I’m at it?”

Cassian was the first to respond, grinning widely. “If you’re offering, I’ll take one! But only if you peel it for me too—I’m lazy.” You rolled your eyes playfully. “Of course you are.”

Rhysand raised an elegant brow, his violet eyes twinkling. “I wouldn’t say no to an orange, either. But don’t feel obligated to spoil us all.”

Lucien, standing near the fruit bowl, chuckled. “I can peel my own, thanks.”

Azriel didn’t say anything immediately, but his gaze softened as he watched you move toward the counter to grab a knife. As you began peeling the orange with careful precision, your hands deftly removing the white pith, you glanced over your shoulder. “Az, what about you? Want one too?” His lips curved into a faint smile, his shadows curling lazily around his shoulders. “I’ll have one, but only if it’s not too much trouble.” You laughed softly. “It’s no trouble at all.”

Cassian leaned against the counter, smirking. “Look at that, Az. You’re being pampered.” “Jealous?” Azriel asked dryly, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone. As you finished peeling the first orange, you handed it to Cassian with a mock-serious expression. “Here’s yours, my lord.” Cassian clutched it dramatically to his chest. “Bless you. You’re too kind to us.” You shook your head, smiling as you started on the next orange. Once you’d finished peeling, you distributed them to Rhysand and Azriel, saving the last for Elain. “Thanks,” Rhysand said, his tone teasing. “I’ll make sure Feyre hears about how well you’re taking care of everyone.”

Azriel didn’t say much, but when you handed him his orange, his fingers brushed against yours briefly, his hazel eyes meeting yours with quiet gratitude. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Anytime,” you replied, your smile soft. As you headed back to the living room with Elain’s orange, you couldn’t help but hear Cassian’s voice behind you. “She’s a saint. Az, you better hold onto her.” Azriel’s response was quiet but firm. “Always.”

#acotar x reader #acotar #acotar reader imagine #azriel x female!reader #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #azriel x you #azriel fanfic

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raevpng · 2 months ago

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in between (pt. 2)

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

part 1 here :)

masterlist

a/n: hey everyonee i’m back :) i genuinely don’t know if i like this part or not and ill probably edit this when im slightly more awake but i hope you guys genuinely enjoy it ! i always love hearing your guys’ thoughts so feel free to talk or reply :)

ps: i’m making this a three part fic instead of two ;)

—

later that night, after the dishes had been washed and the parents had disappeared into their bedroom with tired goodnights and lingering smiles, the house settled into a stillness that felt almost sacred. it was silent, save for the soft hum of the fan and distant tiktok audios playing from azzi’s phone as the two girls scrolled lazily, waiting for the exhaustion of the day to catch up to them.

azzi’s bedroom window was open, letting in a cool breeze that carried the scent of fresh night air. it crept across her skin, sending a small shiver down her back.

paige was lying beside her, the two of them tucked into the bed like puzzle pieces. azzi curled closer, and paige let out a quiet laugh at something on her screen, piquing azzi’s curiosity.

“what’s so funny?” azzi murmured, leaning over her shoulder. she regrets it immediately when she saw what paige was watching, groaning and dropping her head in dramatic shame. it was a tiktok a fan had made – a compilation of them during their usa basketball days.

“oh my god, get it away from me,” she groaned, hiding her face under her hands. “that’s so not funny. i had braces and a unibrow.”

paige grinned, unbothered and utterly charmed. “you were adorable. still are.”

azzi rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t fight the flush rising to her cheeks. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“cute?” paige teased, turning toward her with a glint in her eye. “you think i’m cute, huh?”

“shut up,” azzi muttered, voice a little too soft to be convincing.

“nooo,” paige drawled, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close, “say it again. come on.”

azzi opened her mouth to argue, but their eyes met — and the air shifted.

something passed between them then, quiet but undeniable. azzi’s breath caught in her throat as she realized just how close they were. the warmth of paige’s arm around her. the brush of her thigh. the soft curve of her mouth, just inches away.

as paige’s breath hitched – the static, tension, and ache that had followed them for years but never quite settled became evident in her face, azzi didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“sorry az,” paige said quickly, backing off a little. “is this too-?”

“you’re cute,” azzi interrupted, voice barely above a whisper, so quiet paige nearly missed it. “and infuriating.”

paige froze, eyes locked on hers, and something in her chest twisted painfully. she didn’t know what to do when azzi got like this – brave and exposed and real in a way that knocked the breath right out of her lungs.

so, naturally, azzi leaned in and made it worse.

“and,” she added, voice dipping lower, “you’re mine for the next few weeks. no practices. no press. no cameras. just us.”

paige’s stomach flipped. she could feel the warmth of azzi’s breath against her cheek, could see the way her lips curved slightly like she knew exactly what she was doing.

“god az, do you know what you do to me?” paige couldn’t help but wonder out loud, feeling so weak in her knees she could only thank god she was already lying down.

azzi only shrugged, all feigned innocence, though the corner of her mouth curved like she knew exactly what she was doing. “i’m just saying what i want for once.”

and that did it.

—

the clock on azzi’s nightstand blinked 2:37 a.m. in faint red letters.

paige didn’t know when she’d fallen asleep, only that she woke to the sound of shifting sheets, the quiet creak of the mattress, and the warm weight of azzi curled a little closer.

it was dark — the kind of soft, thick darkness that made everything feel more intimate. the fan hummed steadily above them, and a faint strip of light from the streetlamp outside fell across the floor, brushing against the edge of the bed like a secret.

paige blinked the sleepiness away, adjusting quickly when she realises azzi was still awake.

her breathing wasn’t deep enough for sleep, and paige kicks herself internally for being so down bad she knew such a thing. when paige turned her head, she found those familiar brown eyes already watching her. wide, warm, and full of something that made her heart thud quietly in her chest.

“hey,” paige croaked, voice still rough with sleep, “everything okay?”

azzi nodded, slow and thoughtful, then turned to fully face her. her eyes traced paige’s face, soft in the dark, all sleepy lids and messy hair, and paused on her lips.

she didn’t look away.

and god, she noticed – azzi knew paige noticed when she licked her lips – just a reflex – but one that made azzi freeze for a half-second too long.

“what’s on your mind?” paige whispered, not daring to break whatever had settled between them like static in the air.

paige saw it. felt it. the tension that stretched between them like a wire pulled taut. one move, one breath too loud, and it would snap.

and in hindsight, azzi knew this was the perfect moment to tell her everything.

how she couldn’t stop thinking about her when she wasn’t around, how she looked at her like she hung the stars, how just the sound of paige laughing made her want to fall into her arms and never leave. how she couldn’t look at paige without feeling the desire to pull her in and kiss her silly. or that ever since paige came over with her stupid blonde hair that glows under the summer sun and those deep blue eyes that seemed to always find hers like magnets – that this visit shifted something inside her, and she didn’t know how to unfeel it.

but she didn’t – she couldn’t. instead, she settled for their comfortable banter: “you snore too loud.”

paige squinted, caught completely off guard and heart sinking slightly. “i do not.”

“you so do,” azzi said, grinning now. “it’s cute.”

paige rolled her eyes, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks but feeling the desire to be bold. “you’re lucky i like you.”

azzi smiled – the kind of soft, sleepy smile that dimpled her cheeks and made paige feel like the world had gone still.

“yeah?” she asked quietly. “you like me?”

and paige doesn’t know what it is – maybe the way azzi let those words slip so easily or maybe the soft look that was only reserved for her that azzi shot her, she doesn’t know. but she feels the need to say something, anything to relieve the burn in her chest, the self-destructive need to do more, to keep pushing this blurry boundary of theirs, to keep pushing until maybe one of them breaks. “yeah, i really do.”

it was like the room stopped breathing with them. the air between them grew impossibly thick, hot with everything they hadn’t said and everything they’d been afraid to say.

azzi’s hand found paige’s, tentative and trembling, like touching her might make it real. like speaking it aloud might ruin it.

then, something shifted in the air between them.

not in a sudden, shocking way, but in the slow, steady unraveling of a feeling that had been building for years. like every inside joke, every shared glance across the court, every “stay safe” and “call me when you get home” had been quietly leading up to this moment.

“has it been different for you too?” azzi whispered, voice so honest and raw that paige felt something break in her. “please tell me you feel it too.”

paige’s heart soared at azzi’s words, heart racing and mind full of tangled words. she wanted to do something, say something – anything to have azzi close. to let azzi know she felt it too, that this quiet tension between them has been burning for far too long – and it was time to cave into it.

but she didn’t answer with words.

she reached for azzi like she’d been doing it in dreams, like her hand was drawn there by muscle memory. she cupped azzi’s cheek, her thumb brushing the soft skin beneath her eye, and leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to pull away.

azzi didn’t.

their lips met, hesitant for a breath, like a question waiting to be answered — then everything cracked open.

it was tender at first – unsure and sweet with inexperience and nerves . but then azzi tilted her head and leaned in just a little more, and suddenly it was everything at once, soft, deep, trembling with years of unsaid things.

paige kissed her like she was memorizing her, and azzi kissed back like she was done pretending.

the kiss turned hungry, aching, and all teeth with trembling lips and gasping breaths, like they’d been holding it in for years. like they were trying to make up for every second they’d wasted not doing this. and god, how were they not doing this? why did they choose to miss out on this?

paige pulled azzi closer by the waist, like she needed her in her arms or she might fall apart. azzi’s hands found the back of paige’s neck, fingers threading into her hair as she tilted her head, deepening the kiss with a soft, broken sigh. it was messy, imperfect, too much and not enough.

they kissed like it hurt to stop.

they only pulled apart when breathing became absolutely necessary, their foreheads resting together, chests rising and falling in sync, lips swollen, eyes dazed.

“that answer your question?” paige whispered, voice shaking.

azzi let out a soft laugh, full of disbelief and wonder. “you’re an idiot.”

“but a cute one, right?”

“unbearably.”

they stayed tangled together, cheeks warm and lips swollen, realisation of what this means for them slowly sinking in. yet, there was no trace of panic or denial or regret in either girl’s bodies, and paige felt her whole body exhale in relief.

“can i tell you something?” azzi asked quietly, breaking the comfortable silence that settled nicely between them, her fingers tracing shapes on paige’s arm.

“anything.”

“i think i’ve been falling for you for a while now.”

paige didn’t even try to hide the way her breath caught.

“good,” she whispered back. “because i’ve been falling for you too.”

–

the smell of coffee and cinnamon stirs paige awake first, groaning softly as she rolls over to bury her face in the nearest pillow. sunlight poured rudely through the half-open blinds, the light hitting her directly in the eyes, but before she could even consider throwing a pillow at the window or pulling the blanket over her head, every trace of annoyance evaporated, cause how could she be annoyed at this sight?

azzi was curled up next to her, head tucked near her shoulder, her face resting on paige’s left arm like it belonged there. her curls were a soft, tangled halo against the pillow, and that same cursed morning light that had her ready to riot now made her glow — golden and warm and unfairly breathtaking.

and paige wondered – how had she not come to terms of her feelings towards her best friend sooner? how did she miss the loud banging of her heart against her chest whenever she saw her? how did she miss the tingling in her fingertips, the itch to run her fingers over the younger’s hair, her button nose, and those lips.

paige burned as the memories of last night washed over her, how azzi’s pink lips felt moving heatedly against her own, the soft whimper that azzi let out when paige nibbled her lips slightly to gain more access, the way her stomach felt as paige’s hand had slipped under her oversized shirt to palm the dip of her waist.

and now?

now they were here.

azzi shifted slightly, as if sensing the weight of paige’s thoughts. her lashes fluttered open, revealing soft, sleepy brown eyes, still glazed with that tender warmth from sleep, like morning sunlight lived behind them. she blinked up at paige, and something bloomed in her chest so big and so bright she almost forgot how to breathe. paige couldn’t help the dopey, lovesick smile that formed on her face.

“morning, sleepy head.” paige whispered, her voice still gravelly with sleep, eyes crinkling as she reached out to trail her fingertips along azzi’s cheek lightly.

because she could now.

they could do that now... right?

azzi hummed, a giggle slipping out as she leaned into the touch, impossibly adorable in her half-sleep daze. her cheeks puffed just slightly, and her smile tugged one side higher than the other. paige could practically feel herself melt on the spot.

and damn, azzi thought she seriously needed glasses, because how did she miss how loving paige’s eyes were whenever she looked at her? azzi felt her heart melt at how different paige seemed to look at her, and god she really was oblivious wasn’t she? because this side of paige? it wasn’t new, yet it felt so different, but it was quickly becoming her favourite version of the blonde.

paige wasn’t sure if her chest was burning or floating, only that every second she looked at azzi now made her heart feel like it was trying to spell something — bold, bright letters banging on her ribcage.

“you’re staring,” azzi murmured with a sleepy grin.

“can you blame me?” paige whispered, brushing her thumb over azzi’s cheek. “you’re perfect. too perfect actually, it’s kinda…gross.”

azzi laughed again, face flushed pink and eyes practically closing with how hard she smiled. “gross?” she repeated incredulously, tone light and teasing. “is that your love language?”

“only for you.”

a beat.

then, with the most ridiculous pout, azzi murmured, “i miss you. and i’m hungry.”

she tried to stifle a laugh at how dramatic paige reacted, groaning like she was in pain, flopping onto her back dramatically. “unfair. so unfair. how are you cute and needy first thing in the morning? i’m not built for this.”

azzi rolled onto her side to face her, eyes bright now. “if it helps... you’re making it worse by being stupidly hot and wearing my shirt.”

paige smirked at the compliment, “me? hot?”

azzi hummed, feigning nonchalance, “ridiculously so.”

“well don’t expect it back anytime soon, i’m keeping it.” paige beamed proudly, “you can’t tease me with your scent, say im hot in it, and expect me to give it back.”

azzi flushed again, flustered now and clearly trying not to show it. paige, of course, noticed – and leaned in with a devilish grin. “what was that? is that a blush, azzi fudd!”

“shut up,” azzi muttered, hiding her face in the pillow. “you’re so annoying.”

“but lovable,” paige chirped, springing out of bed. she stretched with a low sigh, tugging the hem of her sleep shirt down before moving to the drawer beside the bed. “okay, okay. breakfast. but only because you pouted. can’t have my princess starving.”

azzi peeked over the pillow. “...princess?”

paige turned with the most innocent expression she could manage to sassily say, “did i stutter?”

“you did not just–”

“shh,” paige said dramatically, quickly pulling her designated drawer to fish her hoodie out and turn around with it. “you’re cold, i can tell. come here.”

azzi rolled her eyes, trying to seem unaffected at how doting paige was being, but the pink on her cheeks betrayed her. “i can put it on myself.”

“nuh uh. not today.” paige stepped close, holding the hoodie just out of reach. “arms up.”

“paige–”

“arms up, princess.”

reluctantly and frankly way too flustered to actually argue, azzi raised her arms, and paige gently tugged the hoodie down over her frame, laughing as it absolutely swallowed her. the sleeves went past her hands and the hem nearly to her knees.

“yep,” paige said proudly. “that’s the look. ten out of ten. belongs in fashion week.”

azzi burst out laughing at her silliness, but buried her nose in the collar, sighing like she could stay there forever. “smells like you.”

paige raised a brow. “and that’s a good thing?”

“mmhm.”

“so you are obsessed with me.”

“don’t push it.”

“too late.”

azzi poked paige’s side playfully, and paige yelped, grabbing her hand in mock betrayal. “okay, rude. no poking the hoodie-gifter. it’s in the rulebook.”

“what rulebook?”

“the one i wrote last night, after i kissed you and you ruined my life in the best possible way.” she raised an accusational finger, laughing at azzi’s offended gasp.

but then azzi’s smirk slipped for just a second – her eyes softening again as they lingered on paige’s. “so... last night,” she said, quieter now. “it changed things, huh?”

paige stepped closer, brushing a curl behind azzi’s ear with infinite care. “yeah. but in the best way. i promise.”

azzi’s breath caught.

“what kind of change?” she asked, though the tremble in her voice said she already knew.

paige leaned in, lips brushing just beside her ear, her voice low and teasing and warm.

“you’ll find out,” she whispered. “don’t you worry, baby.”

azzi shivered from the nickname, from the nearness, from the soft promise wrapped in every syllable. her knees nearly buckled under her, and paige, already halfway to the door, shot her a wink without a second glance.

azzi groaned into her hands, rooted to the same exact spot worried she’d melt into a lovesick goop and slip through the floorboard cracks and away into oblivion.

cause fuck, she was so gone for her.

and she didn’t want to be anywhere else.

–

after an embarrassingly long amount of time, azzi finally gathered herself enough, padding sofly across the hallway to the kitchen. paige’s hoodie was still swallowing her whole, keeping her warm not only because of the thickness, but because of the reminder that it was paige’s. her bare feet made barely a sound against the hardwood, and as she neared the kitchen, she slowed, catching the low hum of voices.

azzi paused just outside the doorway, half-shielded by the wall. she hadn’t meant to eavesdrop — she really hadn’t — but when she heard the unmistakable sound of her dad's chuckle, followed by paige's slightly flustered tone, her curiosity got the better of her.

“so…” tim began, and azzi could practically hear the grin in his voice. “you two have a good sleep?”

paige laughed awkwardly. “uh, yeah. very nice, and uh…peaceful?”

azzi wanted to laugh at the hesitation between each symbol and at the way her voice had gone up maybe three octaves.

“peaceful?” katie echoed, amused. “that’s not what we heard last night.”

there was a clatter, maybe paige nearly dropping a mug – followed by a horrified sputter. “oh my god. what? no, it’s not… we weren’t–”

tim’s serious facade cracked, letting out a booming laugh, clearly enjoying the embarrassment on her honorary second daughter’s face, “relax paige, nothing inappropriate. at least i hope?”

“just lots and lots of giggling,” katie teased, “and maybe a suspicious thump,”

“i– that was— okay, she rolled into me and we— it was a mattress-related accident, i swear!”

azzi bit her lip, a part of her holding in a laugh at how uncomfortable paige was and half horror at how embarrassing her parents were being.

“uh-huh,” tim said, his tone dripping with mischief. “so, just out of curiosity…” he let the silence hang for a moment, and azzi could imagine him leaning in slightly, all faux-serious dad energy. “you do like our daughter, right?”

another pause. then, paige’s voice – softer now, sincere despite the nervous edge.

“yeah. yeah, i really do.”

azzi’s breath caught.

inside, paige rubbed the back of her neck, her cheeks flushed as she met katie and tim’s amused but comforting smile. she looked sheepish, like she’d been caught doodling hearts in the margins of her notes – which i mean, emotionally, she kind of had. katie reached out and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, a quiet nudge of reassurance to keep going.

“i know i haven’t exactly said anything official yet,” paige went on, hands gesturing nervously, “but last night... something happened. it wasn’t just some impulsive thing. it was real. and now that it’s out there, i don’t really want to hold back anymore.”

tim raised a brow at the ambiguity of paige’s confession, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. “go on.”

“i want to ask her out. properly,” paige said, eyes earnest now, voice more grounded. “i want to treat her right. not just because she deserves it, but because i’ve been falling for her for a long time. and now that she knows... i want to do this right. not just sneaking looks and wondering ‘what if.’ i want the real thing.” she finishes firmly, slightly breathless at her rambling, but desperate to let azzi’s parents know that she was serious, more serious than she’s ever been.

katie’s face lit up, her expression tender. she reached across the counter again, this time to gently pat paige’s hand. “we trust you,” she said, voice soft with emotion. “we always have. but hearing you say it like that... it means a lot. we’re happy for you two. really.”

tim nodded in agreement, taking a short sip of his coffee, “agreed. i like you paige, i always have. but don’t be fooled, she’s still my daughter. break her heart and you’re running laps at every fudd picnic.”

“deal,” paige said with a sheepish laugh. “and hurting her? wouldn’t even dream of it.”

azzi chose that moment to casually stroll in, feigning obliviousness despite the unmistakable pink on her cheeks. “morning,” she said sweetly, rubbing her eyes as she walked over to grab a mug from the cabinet. she ignored the wide eyed look paige sent her way and her parents’ stifled chuckles, choosing to plop down beside paige as if she didn’t hear every word she said.

paige gave her a questioning glance — you heard that, didn’t you?

but azzi just smiled into her cup, eyes twinkling.

“we saved you a cinnamon roll,” katie said with a wink, sliding a plate toward her daughter.

“ooh, the good stuff,” azzi said as she took the plate, nudging paige’s knee under the table. paige looked at her, eyes searching, but azzi only gave her a coy smile and popped a piece of roll into her mouth. “thanks for the hoodie, by the way. super warm. smells kinda like…” she sniffed dramatically. “love and devotion?”

paige choked on her coffee.

tim snorted as he settled on a chair. katie on the other hand, didn’t even bother to hide a loud and satisfied laugh at her daughter’s boldness.

“you okay there, paige?” azzi asked innocently, offering her a napkin like she hadn’t just murdered her in real time. paige glared at her like a betrayed puppy, a small pout forming at azzi’s teasing as azzi placed a soft kiss on her cheek, making her even redder.

“azzi.” paige hissed under her breath when tim let out a teasing, long whistle at the display of affection, “your parents are right there.”

“so?” azzi whispered in mock confusion, her lips brushing against paige’s ear in such an electrifying way paige almost choked again, “just getting you back for leaving me all bothered earlier.”

paige nearly fell off her stool.

tim and katie just exchanged a knowing look — one filled with amused exasperation and unmistakable fondness. because in all their years together, this moment? it felt familiar.

felt like love.

they settled into breakfast, the four of them sharing easy conversation and laughter, the morning sunlight stretching long across the kitchen floor. katie, eyeing at how little the two girls had eaten and her suspicion that the boys were gonna wake soon anyway, got up to the stove.

“you two want eggs?” katie asked over her shoulder, flipping something expertly on the stove. “or are you still running on teenage love fumes?”

paige was unfortunately mid-sip on her second cup of coffee.

so she choked.

again.

azzi stifled a laugh, blinking innocently over the rim of her mug, fighting a smug smile as she leaned into paige just slightly.

paige coughed as azzi pat her back lightly, “i think i’m good, but thank you, mrs. fudd.”

“katie,” her mom corrected with a smirk. “i think you’ve officially more than earned the first-name basis after stealing my daughter’s heart.”

“she did not steal it,” azzi muttered, her blush betraying her. “i practically gift-wrapped it.”

paige ignored her muttering, grinning proudly while tim came around the island to help plate the eggs katie was cooking up, “you deserve it. azzi’s had a line of admirers since she was like eleven. i still remember that one kid who used to write her love poems during middle school lunch. what was his name? milo?”

“dad,” azzi groaned, dropping her head to the table. “why, genuinely why.”

paige’s head whipped around. “who?”

“it was fifth grade!” azzi protested. “he stood on the bench and serenaded me. with choreo. i ran.”

paige’s eyes widened with delight, nearly sliding off her stool from laughing. “you’re telling me you got serenaded at eleven? and i thought i was down bad.”

“you are,” azzi side eyed her, taking a bite of her cinnamon roll.

katie tossed a dish towel toward her daughter. “and you’re no better. you made heart eyes over her every night on facetime for who knows how many years straight.”

azzi’s giggled with a light blush, not bothering to deny her mother’s claim. she only smiled, soft and unguarded, her hand sneaking under the table to gently brush against paige’s. it wasn’t obvious — not really — just a quiet graze, a silent i’m here. i like this. i like you. and when paige responded by curling her pinky around azzi’s, she didn’t let go.

and as the laughter mellowed and the morning settled into a rhythm — dishes clinking softly, the smell of fresh coffee lingering in the air — paige gently reached over and laced her fingers fully with azzi’s beneath the table. no hesitation this time. just quiet certainty.

azzi squeezed back, her thumb brushing softly over paige’s knuckles. her smile was relaxed, almost dreamy, eyes cast downward as if she could feel every single point of contact magnified tenfold.

no teasing.

no hiding.

no maybe.

just yes.

yes, this was happening.

yes, this was right.

yes, this was hers.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fic #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi fics #pazzi one shot #such BABIES protect them at all costs

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