#azriel fanfic

[daycourtofficial]

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - part 14.1

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 3.5k | previous part | masterlist

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

Author’s note: okay babes I’m desperate to get this out bc this part is going to be so fucking long I had to break it up into parts

“Rhys, stop!”

Feyre’s shriek of annoyance draws your attention to the front, your eyes watching Feyre chastise Rhysand for driving almost 30 miles per hour over the speed limit. You and Azriel were in the backseat of Rhys’s car (“It’s a Tesla,” Rhys would correct), Feyre in the front seat making several comments about the way Rhys drives as if he is attempting to murder all of you.

Mor and Cassian drove separately in Cassian’s truck - you and Azriel snickered at their less than covert attempts to be alone in the apartment. The six of you had been about to hit the road when Cassian had ‘forgotten his driving sunglasses’ and Mor had immediately offered to help. Rhys had rolled his eyes, telling Cassian the four of you were going to head off instead of waiting for them.

Rhys’s lake house was about an hour and a half away, so you and Azriel had spent that time in the back mindlessly chatting, showing each other silly videos of mostly cats. Feyre sat in the passenger seat, deeming herself in charge of the music, the three of you not caring what she put on.

Whenever Rhys and Feyre were too preoccupied in their own conversation to notice the two of you, you would slip your hand into one of Azriel’s, playing with his fingers or just squeezing lightly before pulling away.

“When do we think Cassian will show up?” You ask, making eye contact with Rhys in the rearview mirror. He scoffs, turning his eyes back to the road, “no telling. He’ll get hungry eventually, so he’ll probably show up around dinner.”

The six of you met up around two, you and Azriel almost arriving late because of your lunch date taking too long. Neither of you wanted to pretend there wasn’t something between you two, but both of you wanted to wait a bit before telling everyone, causing the two of you to linger in the parking lot for far too long, neither of you wanting to keep up the charade.

The impending deadline didn’t stop him from kissing you as if he were going off to war in the parking lot of the cafe you two went to, though. You could still taste the coffee he had on your tongue.

Feyre sighed, looking out the window, “maybe I shouldn’t have put my bag in his truck.”

You laughed, partly at her melodramatics, partly at how foolish she was to leave her bag in Cassian’s truck, “I don’t think you’re seeing that bag for a while, Fey.”

She turns her head to look at you, a scowl on her face, “you make it sound like this is my fault.”

“Well, we did put Cassian and Mor in a car together, so maybe the group is at fault. Just be thankful they didn’t pull over and have sex on top of your bag.”

Her scowl deepened, a look of disgust on her features, “my poor bag would never be the same. I would never be the same.”

“You’d have Cassian butt sweat on it.”

“Ewww, stop.”

“Or worse, his butt hair.”

You laugh as Feyre whips her head to scowl at Rhys, “and how do you know about his hairy butt?”

“Cassian spent our teenage years with a new approach to life - he was determined to be naked at any and every opportunity.” You giggle at Azriel’s words, his ears reddening a bit at the attention you were giving him.

“My mother considered kicking him out because he kept walking around naked and standing in the windows.”

You and Feyre giggled at the image, but Rhys continued. “Our neighbors kept calling and complaining. I’m actually not sure how she got him to stop.”

“She probably bribed him. It’s the only way with him.” You quirk an eyebrow at Azriel before he continues, “nothing ever got to him as a kid - yelling, getting in trouble, praising him. But bribery always worked on him.”

You turn to Azriel, pointing your head in the direction of the front seat, “what was Rhys like as a kid.”

Az huffs, “same as now. Spoiled and annoying.”

Rhys glares at him through the rearview mirror, but Az continues. “He was a bit pompous, always talking about how rich his family was.”

You watch Az try to keep from smiling as Feyre laughs, before reaching a hand out to pinch Rhys’s cheek. The movement pings something in your mind, telling you to ask about it later.

“I did not.”

“You once came to school in a helicopter.”

Rhys sinks a bit in his seat, but you file this whole conversation away in a folder of your brain titled ‘ask again later’. You had a vague sense of things you had picked up over time - Rhys’ parents were technically married, but his dad would travel a lot. Rhys’ mother and sister died at some point. Somehow Azriel and Cassian came into the picture.

It was a bit fuzzy, and you never found out why Cassian lived on his own away from Rhys and Az. You had little pieces, but you needed some way to connect the. You filed it away, just allowing yourself to enjoy the car ride.

The ride eventually reached a lull where the two of you sat in the backseat texting each other while Feyre and Rhys talked mindlessly about goats, maybe. You really weren’t sure what was going on up there.

Azriel: did you know all the guys in this town are riddled with disease

Azriel: so you shouldn’t get anywhere near them

Azriel: just to be safe

You: I like disease-riddled men

Azriel: is now a good time to tell you I had chicken pox as a kid

You: oh really?

You: Mmm itchy men

Azriel: I regret this

You: do you have any scars from it?

Azriel: that’s classified

You: I’ll just have to go around searching for them from other men

Azriel: wait no

Azriel: no no no no no

Azriel: this is a joke right

His eyes snap up to you after you refuse to respond to him, and you have to stifle a giggle at the way he’s looking at you.

You: I’m a changed woman. I prefer disease free men now

Azriel: thank god you’ll stay away from Cassian now

You look up at him with wide eyes before you type back furiously.

You: Azriel we share an apartment what do you mean

You: I let him drink my coffee the other day

You: Azzy please tell me you’re joking

You huff as each of your texts is met back with the three dots indicating he was typing. You looked over at him to find him typing random letters before backspacing to allow the dots to stay up.

You: meanie head

Azriel: you’re the one who said you preferred disease riddled men

You: they wouldn’t treat me like this

You: I would be a queen to them

You: me and my disease riddled king

Azriel: that implies you are their diseased queen

The two of you continue trying to stifle giggles as Rhys drives, Az’s hand moving to squeeze your thigh. You’re so distracted by texting him and his hand on your thigh you don’t notice where you are until the car is pulling into a neighborhood of massive houses that could likely fit multiple families with room to spare. You sit up straighter, looking out the window at these multi-dollar houses and wonder if this was a vacation home, what did Rhys’ house look like growing up?

You knew Rhys’s dad’s lake house was going to be a ridiculously large house. You knew that before, you knew that as the car drove through the neighborhood, but pulling up into the driveway it was as if you had completely forgotten. The house was massive - it had to be at least three floors above ground, and the property it was on was large too.

Rhys’ car slows across the long driveway, no other cars around. You have to strain your neck to look at the house in its entirety - it was beautiful - three or four floors, large windows showing off spacious areas on the second and third floors. It was a mix of the classic lakehouse look, but with slightly modern twists to it. All you could think about while looking at it was how long it would take to clean it. Most of your squabbles with Cassian were over whose turn it was to do dishes, and you knew this place would really test your friendship with him if you lived here.

Or maybe he’d just be able to better hide his messes in this house.

“How long would this take to clean?”

Your voice comes out a bit squeaky before you clear your throat, looking over at Az.

“You think Rhys’s dad does his own cleaning?”

Rhys parks his car in the garage, the four of you getting out. Rhys opens the trunk, and you reach out to grab your bags but Azriel beats you to it, slinging your duffle bag over his shoulder. He crinkles his nose at your pout, sticking his tongue out as he walks into the house. You follow after him, taking in how nice his back looked through his shirt.

Azriel heads to the stairs, taking Feyre to her room, but you fall back to take in the living room. You could host a house party in this living room and fit a hundred people easily. You siddle next to Rhys, watching him play with the lid of his coffee in one hand, his phone lit up in the other.

“Are you worried at all about your dad showing up?”

Rhys sips his coffee before answering, “I’d be more shocked than anyone if he showed up here. Az, Cass, and I once spent an entire summer camped out here. Didn’t even catch a glimpse of him.” He shrugs, his face looking indifferent as his phone screen displays the ‘find my friends’ app, and he looks quizzically at the screen, trying to figure out where Cassian was, you presume.

He blows out a breath, “I’m gonna call him.”

You walk away, opting to look at the photos that decorated the walls. The living room is covered in them, all shapes and sizes of frames littered the yellow wall. You see photos of younger versions of Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys, photos from when they were about ten or so until pretty recently, if you had to guess. You can watch them grow, the three of them looking so unsure of themselves at various stages.

The young photos of Azriel are littered with an air of sadness to them, his eyes not quite as bright as they are now, bandages still lingering on his hands for a long time. Azriel’s the smallest in what you think is the first photo, not much more than skin and bones, his now tan skin had a sickly pale hue to it. A woman and a young girl are in the photos with them, the five of them all looking remarkably similar - it’d be very easy to convince others that the two boys were Rhys’s brothers. The photos are all tan skin, dark curls limp in some photos from the ocean water. They are scattered across the wall, no chronological order to them, but if you lined them up you could watch the three of them grow.

The photos made you feel a well of emotion - how someone could be so cruel to someone so small, so defenseless. But as the photos continued and Azriel blended in more with this family, it made you feel so proud of him for opening himself up like that, when all he knew was pain.

He hadn’t told you the extent of his childhood - just that his family was awful, he hadn't seen or spoken to them in a decade, and his step brothers burned his hands. But the pictures of this small, helpless boy looking so lost at the lake spoke volumes for him.

Rhys put the phone down from his ear as he hung up. “They’ll meet us at the restaurant for dinner. He muttered something about a pit stop before hanging up on me.”

He gazes at the photos as he stands next to you, his eyes landing on the one you’ve been staring at. It involved a very young Azriel, fresh bandages adorning his hands. The striking woman was holding him so delicately, as if her arms squeezed him too hard he’d burst in her hold.

“That’s my mom.”

His voice catches you off guard, not expecting much of anything from him. He points at the photo, his finger tapping slightly on the glass.

“She’s beautiful.”

He hums in agreement, “she loved Az. She fought so hard for him. First person to fight for him, really. Spent a shit ton of money getting custody of him.”

That surprises you, but you leave it there for now, keeping your eyes on her smiling face. His gaze lingers on her soft smile, “she loved all of us, but boy did she love Az.”

You watch his mind go somewhere, not wanting to intrude, about to step away when he speaks up again. “That’s my sister. Kaylah.”

His finger moves to a photo nearby, landing on the young girl that Cassian had hoisted on his shoulders.

“She’s cute.”

“She loved bothering Cassian. The two of them butted heads more than any of us combined.” His voice was full of love and nostalgia. “She once got so mad at him she pulled her shoe off and threw it at his head. He was so chuffed he didn’t notice her throw the other, both of them hitting his eyes. He had a black eye for weeks.”

You laugh, “oh my gods, what happened?”

“What happened?” He turned to you, a wide grin on his face, “we got kicked out of the restaurant we were in, and she had the audacity to ask for her shoes back because they landed at another table.” He laughs, a twinkle in his eye you had never seen before. “Oh, Kaylah was something. She always made us laugh.”

“What happened to her?”

Rhys looks down, the twinkle immediately leaving his eye, “she and my mom were hit by a drunk driver when we started school. We- it was a hard time.”

You look over at him, tentatively moving your arms around his waist and hugging him to you.

“I’m sorry.”

He squeezes you back, his citrusy scent filling your nose. “Me too.”

The two of you gaze at the photos, at a time long gone, standing in silence as if an embrace could change the ending for the subjects of the photos.

The moment’s broken by Feyre’s voice, “what’s going on here?”

You turn your face to look at her, head still against Rhys’s chest, “I’m sorry you had to find out this way. We’re in love. He’s having my baby.”

She gasps overdramatically, clutching her chest as she puts on a ridiculous voice, “oh my stars! The scandal!”

You giggle as Rhys unwraps himself from you, “we were going to tell everyone while we were here, but it’s true. We’re naming the baby Cassian Junior.”

Feyre breaks her resolve, giggling, “how is it Cassian Junior?”

“Cassian’s adopting him, of course.”

Feyre giggles before coming to the wall of photos, looking too. “Wow, you guys were so little!”

You laugh, “yeah now we have proof Cassian wasn’t born with a six pack.”

“A six pack of beer, maybe.”

Azriel’s voice startled you. How a man so large was so adept at sneaking up on you unaware was impressive. He stopped behind you, but you could feel his warmth through your back.

“That would explain a lot,” Rhys mutters, turning away from the photos and sitting onto the couch. He stretched out his long legs, propping them on the ottoman before him. “That drive took a lot out of me.”

“It was two hours,” you scoff, sitting on a nearby chair. Azriel followed you, sitting in the chair next to you.

“Two hours is a long time.”

“Maybe for a baby,” Feyre coos, sitting next to Rhysand, pinching his cheeks. His hands swat at hers, pushing her away with very little effort. The four of you mindlessly chatter away, Feyre telling you all about something one of her sisters recently did, until Rhys’s phone buzzed again, Mor texting him that they were half an hour away.

The four of you jump back into Rhys’ Tesla, and he rolls down the windows as he drives you all to some restaurant called ‘Mama’s’.

“But ‘Mama’s’ what?” You had asked, to which Rhys and Az shrugged.

“Just ‘Mama’s’.”

You had huffed, accepting the nonanswer for the time being. The windows give you a glimpse of the tax brackets you drove through - starting the journey in multi-million dollar homes occupied during the warm months, the landscape quickly changes to lower and middle class homes for the people who live here year round.

Rhys pulls the car into a small restaurant, fitted with outdoor lighting and seating. It was so homey - a dozen or so people stood around outside, playing some variety of games like checkers and cornhole. A couple dozen more sat at tables, eating what smelled to be the most enticing food ever created. Your stomach rumbles at the smell, and Feyre laughs at you before you poke her in the stomach with an elbow.

You spot Cassian leaning against his car, Mor standing next to him on her phone. He stretches his arms out, huffing, “finally, we’ve been waiting for you!”

Rhys promptly pushes him as he walks past, and Mor giggles as he falters a bit and she falls in line with you and Feyre and you gag at her. “You smell like sex.”

She gasps, “no I do not,” before discreetly smelling her shirt.

“No, you don’t. Made you sniff.”

She rolls her eyes, copying your words in an exaggerated voice.

The six of you find a table, and you’re seated in the middle of the booth with Feyre and Rhys next to you. Azriel sits on the end of the other booth, and you make brief eye contact across the table, sending him a soft smile.

The waitress comes up to your table, her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail, her black clothes making her eyes pop, her name tag reading ‘Steph’. She looked at all of you, but her eyes stopped on Azriel, her smile growing wider at the sight of him.

“Hi everybody, what can I get you all to drink?”

She takes your drinks orders, rubbing Azriel’s shoulder as she walks away. Cassian laughs at Azriel’s grimace, “I think she likes you, Azzy.”

“Shut up, Cass.”

Azriel looked to you as your friends kept talking, and you offered him a smile back. His face was hard to read, but his eyes looked so sad. You cock your head to the side, trying to figure out what the problem was, but he turned his head away.

Dinner goes by in a blur, the food was delicious, the six of you spent the evening joking around, except for Azriel, who spent most of the meal quiet. The waitress came by to check on you all several times, and her blatant efforts at flirting would have been amusing if it wasn’t completely obvious how uncomfortable it made Azriel. Each time she returned to your table, you would watch him tense up as she approached, her hands always finding their way to his shoulders. On her third stop at your table, she began calling him Muffin.

Rhys paid the check, handing over the receipt to Azriel.

“For you, Muffin.”

Azriel takes it, and from next to him you can see the phone number written beneath the total. His hands crumple it, discarding it before you all made it to the parking lot. He opens your door before heading to the other side of the car after you slide into your seat. You immediately pull out your phone, your texts with Azriel lighting up the backseat.

You: hi Muffin

Azriel: I’m so sorry

You: why? Did you do something?

Azriel: for the waitress?

You: did you do something with the waitress?

You: I did go to the bathroom, maybe you slipped out and made out with her?

You can hear Azriel furiously typing on his phone.

Azriel: no no no no

Azriel: I didn’t do that, I wouldn’t do that. I’m sorry she was hitting on me.

Azriel: I didn’t know what to do because I didn’t want to tell her I had a girlfriend

You: you have a girlfriend?

You: and you’ve been making out with me?

You: you dog

You peak over at him and his face is a deep red. You want to laugh but you feel a little bad about your teasing once you see his fingers shaking, having to backspace several times over misspelled words.

Azriel: I think so

Azriel: I didn’t mean to imply anything

You: so, you don’t have a girlfriend?

Azriel: I don’t know

Azriel: maybe?

You: do you want one?

You: a girlfriend, that is

Azriel: god yes

Azriel: but it has to be a specific girl

You: anyone in mind?

Azriel: I have my eye on someone

Series taglist: @anotherbook-obsessedhoe @impossibelle @hayrunnwr @just-a-social-casualty-1 @thisisew @brieflyclassymortal @glitterypirateduck @marshmummy @bookishbroadwaybish @azsteris @doriansgf @footyandformula @od-anon @judig92 @luvmoo @marina468 @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @acotarobsessed @maryssong23 @acourtofbatboydreams @herondale-lightworm @azrielover @carnelshephard

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin

Thanks for reading ❣️

[illyrianbitch]

Body Count

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Anxious about how your lack of experience compares to Azriel's, you ask him about his body count. Unfortunately for him, he misunderstands the question gravely.

based on this funny lil request!

Warnings: angst if you squint, miscommunication, silly az and silly cassian making fun of silly az, mentions of death/killing, a sweet lil kiss! fluff!

Word Count: 3.3k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You’ve always had a soft spot for Azriel. 

It wasn’t just his mysterious aura and brooding looks that made him irresistibly attractive to you— though those definitely added to the appeal. Azriel was thoughtful. He was attentive. He seemed to understand you and your needs in a way that none of your other friends could. 

Your feelings for him had grown over time, blossoming into a full-blown crush.

And for the most part, it seemed like Azriel enjoyed your company too. 

There was a playful flirtation between you two, a spark that you hoped would ignite into something more. It had grown even hotter these past two months, through conversations that were held entirely too close to one another, stolen glances, and brief touches that sent shivers down your spine. 

But deep down in your stomach, there was something holding you back— a bitter, nauseating feeling. You weren’t just nervous, you were insecure. 

It wasn’t a secret that Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand had their fair share of lovers. After all, they were all extremely attractive and had lived for centuries longer than you. But the idea of Azriel’s love life had begun to spin itself into an anxious, terrifying web in your mind. You weren’t experienced in such matters— at least, not nearly as experienced as Azriel must've been. The thought was daunting to you. Terrifying, really.

It was late at night now, and the last of your family had bid their goodnights, retreating to their respective rooms and homes. You found yourself alone with Azriel in the dimly lit living room, the small crackling fire mixing with the remnants of the celebration that lingered in the air— the heady scent of wine and the distinct smells of each of your loved ones. 

You stole a glance at Azriel, noticing the way his cheeks were slightly flushed, eyes bright with mirth. His shadows were calm, dancing playfully around his feet and his arms. He caught your gaze instantly, offering you a lopsided smile, the corners of his lips turning upwards in a way that made your heart flutter.

This was your chance— a perfect, quiet moment to confess something to him. To tell him how you felt. 

But the nauseating feeling in your stomach bubbled up once more. You bit the inside of your cheek. Perhaps it was the perfect moment indeed. Not to confess your feelings quite yet, but to get rid of the spider web of overthinking you’d created. 

Summoning up the courage, you leaned closer to him, the alcohol emboldening you. "Hey, Az," you began, your voice soft and hesitant.

Azriel turned to you. "Yeah?" 

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. "Can I ask you something?"

Azriel’s face seemed to soften. "Of course."

You held his gaze for a moment, taking in the hues of his eyes that seemed more golden in the firelight. A small blush rose to your cheeks and you swallowed nervously, your fingers fidgeting in your lap. 

"What is your body count?" 

Azriel blinked. His cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink as his mouth slightly parted, and you watched as his gaze seemed to dance around your face. He opened his mouth to respond, but a hiccup escaped him instead of words.

"I'm just... I was just wondering," you stammered, your cheeks burning hotter with heat. "If you're comfortable sharing, that is."

Azriel smiled at you, letting out another small hiccup as he repositioned himself to lean closer.  His shadows seemed to reach out towards you, a subtle, almost subconscious gesture of reassurance. "It's alright," he said, his voice gentle. "I don't mind sharing."

He took a moment to compose himself. “8,754.”

As if you’d been doused in icy water, your alcohol-induced haze dissipated instantly. 

"Oh," you breathed out, your eyes widening in shock. "Oh."

You would’ve tried harder to hide your shock, but the only thing you could focus on now was the large, heavy, number. It hit you like a ton of bricks, the weight of it settling heavily in the pit of your stomach. 

You expected a large number, sure. You told yourself that you could come to terms with it, learn how to be comfortable with the gap in your experiences. But you hadn’t prepared yourself for this large of a number, and suddenly you felt… uneasy. 

Azriel watched you closely, his expression quickly filling with concern. "Are you alright?" 

Azriel had been with over 8,754 people?

You nodded slowly. Unable to meet his gaze, you casted your eyes towards the carpet in front of him. "Yeah, I'm fine," you murmured, "I, uh, I think I need to go home. I must’ve drank too much."

Azriel seemed to sober up immediately. His shadows, which had been lazily swirling around his feet, suddenly grew still, sensing his shift in mood. He sat up straight, a look of worry crossing his features. "Here, let me walk you to your room," he offered, his wings slightly unfurling as if ready to rise.

You avoided his gaze once more, shaking your head quickly. "It's alright. I got it," you insisted, standing up a bit too quickly. You swayed slightly, and his wings twitched as if he wanted to reach out and steady you. You quickly regained your balance. "Goodnight, Az."

Azriel watched you go, shadows trailing after you slightly before retracting back to him. His wings sagged, a sense of helplessness washing over him as he watched your retreating form disappear down the hallway.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel was tense. Every muscle in his body, every movement he made, it all felt constrained– stressed. Troubled. His shadows swirled restlessly around him, their hurried movements perfectly mirroring the deep agitation he felt in his gut.

Days had passed since his last proper conversation with you. He missed it— missed your presence, missed your laughter. He’d grown so used to your company, had begun to look forward to your conversations and the small flirty banter that he’d gained the confidence to indulge in. But you were distant now— awkward, even. And it was driving him mad. 

It was hot out, the afternoon sun blaring down on him and Cassian as the sound of clashing blades filled the air. Heavy sweat trickled down their faces, to a point where Azriel’s hair clung to his forehead like glue. 

But Azriel’s mind was anywhere but the training ring. And his brother quickly noticed.

"Alright," Cassian said, stepping back and lowering his weapon. "Either you're losing to stroke my ego, or something's going on."

Azriel grumbled, parrying another blow. "I'd never lose for your ego.” His wings twitched in annoyance. 

Cassian frowned, a scrutinizing gaze watching Azriel's movements closely. Something was definitely off. He tied his hair back up, securing it tightly. "Alright, spill it."

"No," Azriel replied curtly, his grip tightening on his weapon. His shadows seemed to wrap tighter around his form, as if trying to shield him from the conversation.

"No?" Cassian echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not going to talk about my feelings with you. We're not twelve.”

Cassian let out a small scoff, raising his hands in exasperation. "By the Cauldron, Az, just tell me why you've got a stick up your ass."

Azriel glared at him. A moment passed. And then he sighed, sheathing his weapon. 

"Y/N has been avoiding me, it seems."

Cassian frowned. "Are you sure?"

The question only brought a scowl to Azriel’s face, who threw Cassian a glare. 

"Yes, Cassian. I'm sure."

There was an itchy, prickling feeling of annoyance filtering through Azriels skin. His shadows flared out briefly before settling back into their usual orbit.

"Well, what did you do?"

Azriel’s shadows twisted tighter and his wings rustled uneasily.

"I didn't do anything.” 

Cassian gave him a skeptical look, crossing his arms. "Really?"

Azriel threw him another withering glare. But when Cass only responded with a raised eyebrow, Azriel’s shoulders sagged slightly. "At least, nothing that I'm aware of."

"Alright," Cass said, "Maybe you offended her somehow. What happened the last time things were normal? Can you remember?"

Azriel paused. He remembered quite clearly despite the drunken haze he had been in. He grimaced as the memory drifted into his mind, bright and clear as day. 

"She asked me for my body count.”

Cassian’s eyes widened. He stilled, leaning forward slightly. "And?"

"And I told her.”

There was a pensive look on Cassian’s face, a furrow forming between his brows as he processed Azriel's words. He narrowed his eyes at his brother. "What is your body count?" 

Exactly like that other night, Azriel replied without hesitation. "8,754.”

Cassian coughed, his eyes widening in disbelief. "I-I’m sorry?" he spluttered, caught off guard by the staggering number.

Azriel's confusion deepened, a frown marring his features. "You know this.”

"No," Cassian countered, shaking his head emphatically. “I do not know this.”

Azriel clenched his jaw, offering Cassian a cold unamused and irritated stare. “Yes, you do.”

"Apparently not.” Cassian let out a scoff. “Hell, I would’ve remembered if you slept with almost nine thousand people, Az. That's more than me."

Azriel’s face twisted into a scowl, a deep crease forming between his brows. His wings flared slightly. 

"Slept with? What the hell are you talking about?" 

Realization flickered in Cassian’s widened eyes, and suddenly, an understanding dawned on him. "Oh," he breathed out, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He let out a hearty laugh. "Got all the skills in the world but that brain still fails ya, huh Az?" 

Azriel fought the urge to send a swift hit to his brother's jaw, if only to knock the amused grin off his face. 

"Can you be serious for one godsdamned minute?" Azriel snapped.

Cassian's laughter subsided, his expression sobering as he met Azriel's gaze— only slightly. The grin still persisted. "Body count doesn’t refer to your kill count," he explained, "It’s how many people you’ve fucked."

Azriel's face dropped and the color drained from his cheeks. From behind him, his wings fell limp. "You can’t be serious.”

"Deadly serious, brother.”

Azriel glanced to the ground, his mind racing through that moment with you. He thought back to your response, to that small “Oh” that haunted him, to the way your eyes widened. He’d simply assumed that you were disgusted by the amount of lives he’d taken, that you’d spent the night imagining how much blood was on his hands. For some reason, this new reality of what the question meant— it felt even more intimate. Oh gods.

"So does Y/n think that I..." he trailed off.

"That you've fucked almost nine thousand people?" Cassian finished for him, a subtle grimace painted on his features.

"But I haven't," Azriel protested.

"Well, you should probably be telling her that." 

Azriel didn't waste another moment. He turned on his heel, desperate to immediately find you and explain the very apparent miscommunication. 

"Wait!" Cassian called out. Azriel paused, turning around with an impatient glare. 

"Take a bath. You stink," Cassian said, wrinkling his nose for emphasis.

Azriel's glare deepened, and he flipped Cassian off before continuing his stride toward the exit.

Cassian's laughter boomed behind him, the sound trailing after Azriel as he walked away. "eight thousand seven hundred and fifty-four," Cassian muttered to himself, still chuckling in disbelief.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel rushed down the hallway. Following Cassian’s unasked for advice, he was freshly bathed, hair still damp and clinging to his forehead. His shadows flitted nervously around his feet, his wings twitching restlessly at his back. 

He had no time to waste. Azriel really liked you. He needed to find you and clear up the misunderstanding before it began to fester into something deeper, something much harder to clean up. 

He found you in your room, catching you just as you were about to leave. “Y/n,” he said, as he came to a stop in your doorway. His voice was a bit louder than he intended.

You jumped, letting out a small scream as you spun to face him.  You caught his gaze as your hand flew to your heart. “Azriel,” you breathed out, a nervous smile playing on your lips as you steadied your breathing. “You scared me.”

He gave you a sheepish smile, his wings shifting slightly– a small, but clear sign of his embarrassment. “Sorry,” he said softly.

You let out a small laugh. “Hi, Az.” 

His smile grew. “Hi Y/n,” he responded, walking further into your room. “Are you heading out?”

You blinked in an attempt to break away from his gaze, casting a quick glance down towards your window. “Oh, yeah. I was just gonna go walk about Velaris, get some fresh air.”

Azriel hesitated for a moment before asking, “Would you like some company?”

You hesitated too, a part of you wanting to say yes. But then the infamous number came to mind, and the bitter, nauseating feeling returned. “Maybe another time?” you said, trying to sound as genuine as possible.

Azriel could tell you meant it, but the disappointment was clear in his eyes. “Alright,” he responded softly, his wings drooping slightly. “Enjoy your walk.”

A wave of sadness rolled through you at his response, at the way his shadows seemed to still at your rejection. Your eyes scanned his face, taking in his wet hair and the way his eyes seemed to plead with you. 

“I’ll see you later,” you said, offering him a small smile before making a move to side-step him. 

Before he could overthink it, Azriel reached out and gently grabbed your arm. The touch was soft, but it stopped you in your tracks. You turned back to him, finding yourself suddenly very close to him, faces only inches away.

His shadows wrapped around your wrist where he held you. A giddy flutter spread through you as his touch sent warmth racing through your veins. You melted into his grip, feeling a hunger for his closeness after just a few days without it. His gaze held yours, intense and searching, before flickering down to your lips. You took a deep breath.

“I’ve taken 8,754 lives,” Azriel finally spoke, his voice low and hesitant.

Your eyes widened in surprise. You took a step back, properly facing him now, trying to process his words. “What?”

Azriel looked sheepish, his eyes flickering with a mix of embarrassment and uncertainty. 

His shadows fluttered around him.

“The other night, you asked me what my body count was. I told you 8,754.”

You nodded slowly. “I remember.”

“I thought you were asking how many people I’d killed. Not—” he paused, a small blush reaching his cheeks. “Not how many people I’ve slept with.”

Your lips parted in an O of realization. You took in his face, observing how his shadows swirled tirelessly around him. Azriel offered you a small, unsure smile. A small laugh left your lips.

“Why would I be asking you how many people you’ve killed?” you finally asked. Your voice was soft with confusion and a hint of amusement. A small gleam grew in the shadowsinger’s eyes. 

“I don’t know,” Azriel responded honestly. “Why were you asking how many people I’ve slept with?” 

You blushed, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “It’s silly.”

Azriel reached forward, gently grabbing your hand and pulling you closer to him. His shadows wrapped around your wrist where he held you. You fluttered at the sudden closeness, feeling a rush of warmth and nerves flow through your body. 

“It’s not,” he insisted softly, his eyes holding yours with unwavering sincerity.

“I just wanted to prepare myself. I haven’t… I’m not experienced in these types of things.” You paused, holding his gaze for a moment. And then the corners of your lips tugged into a smile. “But gods, it’s good to know I don’t have to compete with the experience of almost nine thousand previous lovers.”

Azriel’s expression softened, a fond smile tugging at his lips. “You never have to compete with anyone, Y/n. Especially not with me.”

A warmth settled in your chest. His thumb stroked your hand, a soothing rhythm that seemed to cause butterflies in your stomach with every touch. 

“Well, that’s good to know,” you replied softly, meeting his gaze.

“Yeah?” 

Azriel’s voice was soft now, a low cadence that made you feel like puddy in his hands. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a small smile.

The smile on his face grew further. You traced the movement with your eyes, taking in the small smile lines and dimples that formed. His smile dropped slightly as he frowned, brows furrowing slightly. 

“Wait.”

You tilted your head curiously. “Hmm?”

“It doesn’t bother you that I’ve killed 8,754 people?

 “I know you have your reasons.” You shrugged gently. “Also, I don’t have to compete with dead people.”

Azriel’s shoulders relaxed slightly at your words, as if a weight had been lifted off him. A chuckle left his mouth. It was warm and genuine, and the sound resonated deeply within you. “Just one of the many reasons why I like you.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“You like me?

Azriel nodded, his gaze unwavering— something soft, almost sacred. “I do.”

A rush of warmth spread through you at his confession. You took a moment to let the words sink in. Your grin widened. “I knew it.”

Azriel shook his head, a smile of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. “I wasn’t really trying to hide it.”

Your grin widened even more and you met his gaze with a playful glint in your eyes. His thumb continued its gentle rhythm on your hand.  “Do you feel the same way?” he asked. 

“I wasn’t really trying to hide it,” you admitted, mirroring his previous words with a soft smile.

Azriel’s expression seemed to often further, his eyes reflecting a warm sense of longing. His eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips. 

Slowly, he leaned in, closing the distance between you. His hand cupped your cheek delicately, his touch sending a shiver down your body. You took a deep breath, feeling his scarred fingers run alongside your cheek. He met your eyes again, his gaze heavy, seeking something— permission. 

“Can I kiss you now?” 

Words eluded you for a moment as you met his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest. You simply nodded, breath catching in your throat as you whispered, “Please.”

For another fleeting moment, his hand cradled your face delicately, thumb brushing over your cheekbone with a tenderness that made your heart ache. And then he closed the remaining distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was sweet and fervent.

It was shy at first— a hesitant, tentative meeting of lips that conveyed unspoken feelings that had never been fully addressed until now. You welcomed the warmth of his lips against yours, the sweetness of the moment overwhelming your senses. You pressed yourself further into his touch, fingers moving to tangle themselves in his hair as you pulled him closer. 

Azriel let out a sound of content as the kiss deepened, his shadows wrapping around you both like a protective embrace. You felt their cool, feather touch around your body, felt as lone tendrils weaved through your hair. 

When you finally pulled apart, breathless and smiling, Azriel rested his forehead against yours, eyes still closed as he savored the closeness between you. His fingers traced gentle patterns on your cheek. 

“I’m glad we cleared that up,” he murmured.

You let out a soft laugh. 

“Me too.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

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[utterlyotterlyx]

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Twelve

Summary - The High Lord's meeting takes place which provides the perfect opportunity to set you free.

Warnings - Get ready besties! Angst, trauma, ptsd, fluff, mentions of death, depression, weight loss, mentions of scarring

Word Count - 8.5k

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

Time had ticked by tantalizingly slow, hours felt like days, and days felt like weeks. The rawness of your throat made every cough and splutter tease the death that was lurking around your small form, the same body that was shaking from the chill in the air and bones protruding from your skin from the lack of nourishment you had been given.

It was as though you had been forgotten.

The taunts had stopped, the other prisoners noticing how dire the situation had become, and they instead sought to comfort the imprisoned princess holding onto life by a single tensed golden thread. It had become clear that you weren't much different from them, plagued by the need to create a better life no matter the consequence. No matter the cost.

Visits from your fractured family had dwindled, only Feyre could enter the hell you found yourself in unnoticed, though, she carried the intriguing scent of cedar on her clothes but she didn't speak of him, she knew that above all, the betrayal of Azriel had cut you the deepest. It was Feyre who reminded you of the light beyond the confined walls, she carried messages from Cassian and Mor, and Amren, she carried whatever hope she could to you.

They were all desperate to convince you to just hold on for a little longer. Just another day.

Though, what you couldn't understand was how the queen dwelling deep inside of you could leave so abruptly. Perhaps it was the thick onyx stone embedded into the walls, maybe it made her cower back into her cage leaving the weakest part of you in the dim faelight.

Shuddering, you wrapped your arms around yourself, curling into a ball atop the stone altar that had been calling to you for Mother knows how long, so long that you had succumb to it and used it as a place to rest your dreary head. The matted hair attached to your scalp swept across the stone, gathering the last remnants of blood and dirt from the surface, the rest had seeped into your bones long ago.

The air had shifted somewhat, like the shifting sands of a land far away, telling you that beyond the walls that worked tirelessly to contain you, something was happening.

Thunder rumbled in the grey skies, you could hear the lightening barrel into the tower where your cell lay, cracking rock in its wake, as though nature itself was growing restless. There were little tears left to cry even when the shackles binding your limbs broke through your once glowing skin, it didn't hurt anymore, nothing did.

You were empty.

Is this what death felt like? To feel so stiff and empty, numb to the point where the screams within the prison no longer made your toes curl or heart clench?

If it were to be your end, then you would accept it. A part of you welcomed the idea, to be free of it all, to go to a place where you could find peace.

Eris.

It was the only name that could make you ache.

You had made peace with the fact that you may never see them again, that you’d never get to feel the touch of Eris' lips on yours, or Lucien's arms wrapped around you, Elain's kind words or Nesta's friendship. They would be better off without the danger your existence brought to their lives, not even from Rhys, but from whatever evil dwelt within you.

Running your tongue over your bottom lip, you hissed slightly, the skin broken and sore from the gnawing of your teeth; the same sensation grappled at your fingertips, your nailbeds raised and angry and nails split and jagged. When you ran your fingers down the front of your body, all that met your touch was the boned outline of your ribs that you could count one by one, and the sharpness of your collarbone and shoulders.

If Eris saw you, he would burn the world to ash. You were sure of it.

Had he met with Helion and Tamlin? Had he forged a path to free you? Had Rhys ended him before he could rise?

"Your thoughts are too loud, Princess," the taut voice of your neighbour called through the darkness, the thunder acting as the sonnet to his ire as it clapped somewhere overhead, rumbling the skies and shaking the ground beneath the altar where your body lay.

Jovian was one of the very few prisoners who hadn't taunted you after your rather unfortunate arrival within their home. What he did to land himself in such a place you never wished to know, but he had become an important crutch in your dwindling existence. The smallest surviving part of your imagination wanted you to believe that he was a handsome male, such notions derived from his voice being as warm as summer rain and as rich as chocolate.

Being neighbourly wasn't something you'd find within your personal hell, but you had learned that life had been made to surprise you in the most strangest of manners.

A strained hum sounded against your wilting lips, plastered downward as though they didn't know joy anymore, "Sorry," your voice broke with the rawness of your throat, the dryness that settled so deep within your oesophagus that you were convinced it would never leave even if you did by some miracle become free.

Jovian was daemati, just like Rhys, although, he couldn't control it very well at all, he was never trained with the gift after being locked away at such a young age. Thoughts seemed to scream at him, like a carriage racketing through a tunnel, loud and grating. He had been nice enough to you though, using gentle words and a soft voice to make you feel seen and heard, to make you feel like you were still important to someone despite being locked away and the key dropped into the Sidra.

A faint shuffle moved through the air, a sign that Jovian was moving closer to the bars of his cell, and he sighed, the warmth of his breath stretching to kiss your ice cold skin, "It's alright," his voice spoke, you could almost picture the male with his back pressed against the bars, his fingers reaching outward to where they could graze against yours if you would only move to accept it.

Thunder screamed beyond the walls, lightening and rain battering against the foundations, wearing away the stone bit by bit so that it may be able to reach you. "Can you feel it? The world tilting?"

Jovian hummed low, "I can. We all can."

It wasn’t a lie. The residents of the Prison had become restless, their maniacal laughter howling into the night, and part of you had wished to join them.

Using whatever little strength you had left, you pushed yourself upward and swung your legs over the side of the altar, the flashes of the same moment in another time splintering their way into your consciousness; your bare and bruised feet padded against the damp floor, a slight limp possessed your step from the countless times your ankle had twisted from not being able to hold your own weight.

Matching Jovian, you pressed your back against the onyx bars of your cell, crawling your fingers through them to brush lightly against the tips of his own, "What does your name mean?"

It was something you had thought of since the moment he told you it, it was such a unique name, much different from the names you knew. Jovian's index finger curled around your own, "Father of the sky. My mother enjoyed astrology and the study of planets, she said that it fit me perfectly." A beat of silence passed, "What does yours mean?"

Furrowing your brow, you couldn't seem to remember it, "I- I don't know."

A contemplative sound came from his lips, "I think it means warrior, it takes great strength to survive and hang onto your light in the face of great darkness."

A humourless laugh passed through you, "I'm no warrior."

"You're still here, aren't you? You could have given up long ago, but you didn't. What keeps you here?" Here as in Prythian, here as in the world, here as within life.

Flashes of laughter and love caressed against your soul, of warm Autumn evenings with your legs propped up on a lap and a furry head resting on your thighs, "Someone that I love, very much."

Reuniting with Eris was something you had forbidden yourself to dream of, it was futile given your condition, and maybe he would take one look at your ruined form and decide that he was better off. Eris would never do such a thing, but it helped you to believe that there was better things in the world awaiting him. Though, when those dreams did grace you, you had always awoken feeling full with your soul glowing gold. Multiple scenarios of it had poured through you, running through the forest at the edge of the estate into his open arms, on the beaches of the Day Court in the instance that Helion would break through the rock and pluck you from your cell, in Velaris when you would overthrow Rhys and bring peace to the Night Court.

Every scenario was beautiful and perfect, but they were just dreams, and dreams didn't tend to come true for you.

Jovian's finger traced the hem of the cuff secured against your wrist, cringing at the marred flesh thriving beneath it, "To love is a beautiful thing," his was was toned with longing, of a desire he would never get to experience for he too was subject to the knowledge that he would never leave.

"Yes," you cleared your throat, "It is."

"Whoever owns your heart is the luckiest male in the universe, y/n. Fighting is worth it when you have someone waiting for you."

Laying your cheek against the bars and staring onward like the stones may part and reveal you to one another, you asked, "Do you have someone waiting for you?"

Jovian pondered the question, sadness settling into his chest as he thought of how long he had been locked away, at how he had slowly aged over the time where everyone he once held dear had perished, "I may have once, not anymore though."

"If I ever get out of this place, I'll come back for you. I swear it."

For awhile after your voices died against the roaring skies, you sat with your backs pressed against your respective bars, fingers entwined, and for just a moment, you both didn't feel alone.

The Day Court was just as stunning as Eris had remembered it to be, tall marble pillars and ethereal artworks encapsulated the ceilings, and he wondered how he hadn't spent longer admiring it all the last time he had been within Day. Then he remembered that the last time he had been in the Day Court was when you had asked him to take you away, you had stolen his attention that night, and you had each day after.

All of the High Lords of Prythian had answered the call, even Rhys, and the day had come where the world would get to know what he had done to you.

Tension had been rife within the family you had brought together, Nesta was on edge about seeing Cassian and Feyre, Elain was on edge about seeing Azriel, Lucien was ripping at the seams at the thought of being around Rhys, and Eris was on edge about everything. One wrong move and Rhys could easily send the order to have your existence wiped from the world.

It was silly to assume that Rhys would bring you despite the demand for it, though Eris couldn't help but hope to see your glossy hair sauntering through the halls or the hem of your dress sweeping against the stone as you turned a corner.

The Day Court had always been your favourite place, you had often spoke of how you adored the sun seeping into your pores, how you'd never felt more complete and peaceful when walking along the sandbank with the water rushing up to greet you. Eris pictured you leaning against every wall he passed, a soft smile on your lips and skin glowing with love and health, hair bundled over your shoulders that he could twirl a finger in if he so wished, eyes burning so brightly that it made his stomach flip.

Helion had studied the texts as he had promised to do, and he was confident in his approach to rid the demon queen from your body thanks to the talents nestled within his court. Eris had been warned that it would be painful for you to endure and him to watch, but that it would put an end to the evil entwined within you.

The chamber chosen for the meeting was regal in its own right, high ceilings with coving made of solid gold, larger than life chairs arranged in a perfect circle around a pond of seawater that scattered its waves across the ceiling, large open arched windows with thin drapes that danced in the ocean breeze.

Kissing the horizon, the low sun signalled that it was time.

Eris sat across from the chairs assigned to the Night Court, Nesta to his left and Lucien to his right, both of whose orbs were trained on the empty seats awaiting the presence of the High Lord and Lady of night, if the latter would even show her face that is. Helion sat to the right hand curve of the sphere before the largest of the windows with the sun dipping just below the arch of his seat, fingers tapping against the table becoming annoyed with the lateness; Tamlin sat to the left curve, eyes darting to the High Lords and nose occasionally sniffing to catch a speckle of your scent.

All the other High Lords knew was that a crime had been committed, and that such a crime required a hearing of sorts, an attempt of resolution before the land was consumed by war on four fronts. Day. Night. Spring. Autumn.

It was clear that Rhys had spouted lies to the Winter Court, such was clear by the stone-faced glare being sent Eris' way by Kallias, and Eris could only imagine what vile words had been spoken between the two of them. Kallias had no doubt been told that Eris was a kidnapper, a manipulator and liar that had weaved his way into the mind of his dearest sister and turned her against her home and family.

The doors to the chamber opened once more, to announce the presence of the final bodies they were awaiting. Rhys appeared as stoic as ever, dressed in his finest onyx tunic, his crown dipping low on his brow and violet eyes swimming with poised anger; beside him was Feyre, eyes weary and stressed, dressed in her usual blue-grey ensemble. Then the Inner Circle appeared, all varying in their levels of ire and discomfort, Cassian whispered Nesta's name as soon as he saw her and she froze in response, noting how his wings had drooped slightly and skin tinged with illness. Mor hadn't looked much better, the shine to her hair had disappeared, her nail polish was chipped and her dress seemed a bit loose on her frame.

Counting them all one by one, it soon became glaringly obvious that a certain Shadowsinger had refrained from attending the meeting.

Rhys all but glided to his seat, giving Feyre a stern look as they both sat, their Inner Circle following suit to either side of them and bringing their night-kissed dread to a once warm room.

From their pallid complexions Nesta knew what they had seen, she knew that they too now knew the truth, and it gave her some form of hope to know that maybe you had some people looking out for you. Nesta's eyes connected with those of her mate, and she felt the air rush from her lungs at the pleading she found within them and the gentle tugging on the bond that she opened willingly, feeling his guilt and reassurance soaring across it.

"I appreciate you all for coming on such short notice," Helion spoke after a beat, allowing the tension to fester upon Rhys' entrance, his power causing the room to swelter.

It was taking all of his control to not lunge across the serene pool that separated them, Eris would give anything to be able to wipe that smug grin off of his face. The day would come when he could do such a thing, but that day wouldn't be the one where your life and sanity loomed over his pretty red head.

From the way Helion's eyes drifted to Rhys, with fire coursing through the speckles of his irises, did the other High Lords realise what had called them to the Day Court Palace, or rather, who.

"Rhysand," Helion drawled his name, a smirk tugging on his lips, "You are here to answer to a court of your peers, to the High Lords who wish to rule this world harmoniously, for the crimes you have committed against your own court, and your own flesh and blood." Helion moved his gaze to Kallias, then to Thesan and Tarquin, then to Tamlin who shuffled in his seat, and then to Eris who he gave a short, curt nod.

"For those of you who don't know of Rhys' treachery, allow me to fill you in," Helion waved his hand and sank back into the comfort of his seat, "For the last fleeting eon, Rhys has held his own sister captive within his court for fearing that her power could overthrow him. Upon realising the betrayal of her own brother, y/n approached Eris and asked him to free her of the confinements of the prison that she called home and found herself thriving within the Autumn Court."

Not expecting the words but also not wanting to go head-to-head with Helion, all Rhys could do was sit and listen, and Eris caught the poorly hidden smirk itching its way onto Feyre's mouth.

"Rhys threatened her, manipulated her into believing that she belonged to the Night Court and that if she didn't return then he would kill the family she had made with Eris," Helion's stare bore into Rhys, his orbs glowering with intensity and anguish over what he had done to his friend, "Rhys placed collars of onyx stone on her to make her void of power, and has psychologically tortured her to the point where she no longer resembles the female she used to be, and," Helion turned his head slightly to Eris in silent permission, not once tearing his eyes from the seething High Lord in his eyeline. Eris nodded once and felt the fate of the world move at it, "Rhys removed the memories of Eris and y/n from one another. They are Carranam, and they were very much in love. It threatened his power and position, so he stole their memories and locked her away so that she would never learn of what he did, and instead spread vile lies and vicious rumours so that no one would ever think to look for her or wonder about her."

Feyre soundlessly uttered the word, Carranam, her lips moving perfectly with the roll of her tongue, and her eyes widened. Feyre turned to her husband and mate with horror laced within her orbs but said nothing, instead her gaze flickered to Cassian, and then to Mor, before settling on Amren whose fists were clenched and nostrils flared.

"Where is she?" Tamlin asked, voice low and dangerous, "You were ordered to bring her."

Rhys ticked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, seemingly unphased by the stare of betrayal from his mate and the mother of his child, "My sister is elsewhere. To move her for a meeting so futile would cause her a great deal of pain."

"Where is she?" Eris hissed, his fingers creating scratches in the arms of his chair. Rhys was too smug, the lazy grin on his lips made Eris' blood boil so much so that ash pooled beneath his palms.

Finally, Rhys looked to Eris, he cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips, "The location of my sister is none of your concern," Rhys relaxed into his chair, unphased and unbothered, which only irked Eris more, "As Night Court tradition stipulates, an unmated female is the property of her family until she finds her mate or a suitable arrangement is made. My sister is unmated, and therefore, she's mine."

"That thought would hold if it were true," Nesta smirked, peering at Rhys through her lashes, her fingers drifting over the hilt of Ataraxia.

His eyes narrowed, and more a moment, Nesta could have sworn that she had saw a flash of fear within them, "It is true."

Eris hummed, "No, it's not actually," he allowed his glamour to fall, and the scent of your bond flooded the room, pine and spiced orange mixed with jasmine and salted air, "Y/N is my mate, she is my Carranam," Eris rose to his feet, "She is to be my wife, my High Lady, and the mother of my children. But before all of that, she is going to be free."

No one had been expecting so much information when they had arrived within the Day Court that afternoon, the collective mind of Prythian was reeling.

"Tell me where my mate is, Rhysand. We won't ask again," the red of his waistcoat strained against his chest and he inhaled deeply, partly relishing in the surprise in Rhys' eyes as he attempted to hold onto some reason why he could continue entrapping you.

Then, a sweet voice spoke, one raw from holding back tears of fury, "She's in the prison. Rotting away on his orders," Rhys' widened gaze moved to the owner of the voice, finding Feyre unwilling to look at him after confessing his darkest act.

A low growl emitted from Eris and he felt Nesta rise to her feet beside him, "We've been helping her the best we can, but she doesn't have much longer left," Cassian added, flinching when Rhys' head snapped to face him, but his eyes didn't move from Nesta, and she felt his sincerity flow down the bond and settle within her heart.

Cassian had become your ally, he was on your side trying to help you, but there was little he could do against Rhys' power, no matter how determined he was.

Realising that his own Inner Circle, his own family, had betrayed him, Rhys' eyes darkened and the ground began to rumble beneath their feet. Then it stopped. Rhys shivered. Rolling his neck at the sensation peeling down his spine, Rhys snarled, and peered back to the door as though he was expecting someone to enter. His ears twitched and his eyes narrowed, then he froze, it dawning on him what exactly he was feeling.

"What have you done?" Rhys turned his head to Feyre sadistically slow with a voice dangerously calm, but Feyre didn't back down, no, she rose to her feet and stared down at her mate with every ounce of disdain in her body.

"We," Feyre motioned between herself, Cassian, Mor, and Amren, "Have done what is right."

It dawned then on your found family that all this time, when they had believed that they were all against you, it was actually the opposite. They had been working tirelessly to find a way out for you, had been orchestrating their own movements to get to that moment, to get Rhys far away from the Night Court for long enough to give you a fighting chance.

And on knowing what was happening, Rhys blew through the wards around the Palace like it was nothing, shattering the shields into oblivion with his fury, and winnowed from sight.

The stiffness in your legs warned you what was coming.

There was no energy or fight left within you to do anything about it as you retreated to the far corner of your cell and draped the thin blanket over your tattered dress.

Wind slammed against the side of the tower, roaring into the night, desperately attempting to break through the stone as strong as iron. The skies cried with it, unable to idly stand by and watch you succumb to the thing that terrified you.

Death.

It had always been a concept you had been scared of, you loved life too much, and all of the possibilities that could have been yours if you were brave enough to just take the chances when they were in front of you.

One more dream, you could allow yourself that.

Your eyes drifted closed and you drowned out the words of Jovian who felt so close yet so far away, focusing solely on the male who owned your heart in every single way that mattered, on the male who had never been afraid of you.

In that moment, you imagined laying in your bed at Fir Manor, his ear pressed to your swelled stomach and lips stretched into a wonderous smile as he tried his hardest to listen to the heartbeat of the babe growing inside of you. His babe. You imagined running your fingers through his hair, wondering if your children would be blessed with hair the shade of glowing embers or hair as dark as the night. Eris would press his lips against your skin, whispering sweet promises to your growing babe that he would be nothing like his father, that he would protect your little family with every fibre of his being.

It was a sweet dream, a glimpse into the future, so sweet and perfect and impossible that you felt a single tear slip down your ashen cheeks.

One day you'd see him again. One day you'd be reunited in the stars and the heavens would sing their adoration. And you'd wait, and you'd watch him go through life, and you'd guide him to the next day, and protect him with your light until he would one day join you.

It would be a beautiful day.

Though, apparently someone was eager to pause that day from occurring as the bars of your cell splintered, the door itself twisting from the hinges with a sickening groan and and an array of cool kisses pecking at your calves.

Hazel eyes hovered before your own, marred fingers grazed your hallowed cheeks, "You don't get to die on me, Princess," he looked about the room, tucking the thin blanket around your body to keep you as warm as he possibly could, "It's time to go home."

A pained cry sounded from your lips and Azriel internally cringed at it, knowing that even cradling you in his arms was bringing you untold amounts of pain, "I know it hurts. I'm sorry, y/n. We don't have much time, I need to get you out of here."

Azriel rose to his feet and curled his wings around you, trying to will some warmth into your trembling form as he stepped into the hallway and kept walking without looking back, paying no mind to the teary eyes of Jovian who was pressed against the bars to his own cell, trying to catch a glimpse of your eyes open and full of fight, fingers outstretched and trying to brush against your light for one last time.

As soon as he exited the Prison, Azriel halted, feeling your fingers curl around the skin of his armour. Looking down, he noted the tears in your eyes as you stared up at the calming skies, the clouds splitting to reveal the brightest stars you had ever seen glimmering overhead, "I didn't think I'd ever see them again," your raw voice spoke, and if he looked hard enough, he swore he could see your heart pulsing in your chest.

"You're going to be seeing a lot more beautiful things than this sky," Azriel promised you, holding you a little tighter in his arms, knowing that it was probably going to be the last time he ever could. "I'm going to have to winnow us, okay? It's the only way to create enough distance between us and Rhys."

Nestling further into his arms, you nodded stiffly against his chest, your cheekbone rubbing against his leathers, so sharp that it threatened to split the intricate fabric. Curling his wings tighter around you, Azriel inhaled deeply, and then disappeared from sight, the only sign of his presence being the tint of cedar laced into the air.

Within a few minutes, the winnowing had halted, and your once screwed closed eyes softened as the scent of fresh foliage blossomed within your gut, gently caressing you and whispering to you that you were safe, that home was so close, mere metres away.

Azriel gently placed you on the ground, the grass soft beneath your feet, but he kept his hands on your waist to steady you, to catch you if your knees gave out.

The air felt lighter, teeming with life and the chirps of small creatures, glancing about, you spotted a manor in the distance, shrouded with fresh flowers and vine. "Are we in Spring?"

The Shadowsinger hummed softly in agreement, "Autumn is just over there," he motioned to where a shield of glamour rippled, a sign of the wards of Autumn ready to part and welcome you back, "Can you make it?"

"Yes," you answered instantly, energy flowing to your limbs and loosening the muscles within them. You peered up at Azriel, "Rhys-"

"Had to believe that I was on his side, had to trust me enough to loosen the leash," his brutally marred finger brushed a stray hair behind your ear, "I promised to never hurt you, I intend to keep that promise. I'm sorry for everything that I've done, for letting you believe that I betrayed you. I'm sorry. Rhys had to believe that he was winning, but I should have never allowed it to go this far. I should have protected you, got you out at the first chance I had."

Azriel stumbled back a step as your body collided with his own, winding your arms around his neck and doing your best to contain your wobbling bottom lip, "I forgive you," at the sound of your broken whisper Azriel curled his arms around your frame, allowing his shadows to pepper their love over your shoulders and spine.

It was a tender moment, one full of the unspoken love that had once flowed between you, a love that was still the centre of his universe but that had been replaced in yours. Azriel pulled back, his fingers lingering over the bargain tattoo that wrapped around your bicep, and smiled sadly, "You have to go. Rhys would have been alerted by now, he'll be looking for us."

"He'll kill you."

"Maybe," Azriel shrugged, "But if my death means that you make it out of this alive then it's worth it," the sky rumbled and you felt Rhys' power draw closer, "Go. I'll hold him off. Cross the boarder, go home," Azriel pressed his lips to your forehead and closed his eyes, drinking in everything he could about you before he stepped back and nudged you toward the rippling wards that were already parting for you, almost reaching out to envelope you in their protection.

You couldn't waste a moment, so you turned toward the boarder and willed yourself to not look back as that power rumbling in the skies slammed into the ground behind you. Ignoring the screaming ache in your limbs, you propelled yourself forward, feeling the wind rip through your hair and your skirt glide against your thighs.

A roar sounded behind you, a clash of swords, sinful words and the sickening crunch of bones as bodies smashed into the ground. The wards of Autumn reached for you, wrapping behind your body and urging you forward, and you leapt over the boarder, feeling Autumn welcome you back like a lost lover and solidify the shields around the court.

You spared a glance backward, witnessing Rhys looming over Azriel who was grounded and spitting blood, Truthteller curled in his grip and ready to dispose of the Shadowsinger. A scream ripped through your throat, loud and shrill enough to pull Rhys' attention from Azriel for a singular moment; his gaze shot up to find you, knowing that cry from anywhere, and he rose, going to take another step just as red siphons entered your vision and propelled Rhys through the air.

Cassian moved to Azriel, steadying his brother and muttering something to him, and then you saw Mor, and then Amren, and finally Feyre winnowing onto the field of Spring, all dressed in their leathers and the latter of which turned her head to you and as clear as day, you saw her lips telling you to go.

Stumbling backward, you turned again, moving through the forest and paying little mind to the blood seeping from the bottoms of your feet. A gentle galloping drew near, growing louder with each passing second until his black coat shone in the light and his large eyes found you, approaching you with urgency and softly whimpering as his head nuzzled into your shoulder.

"Hello Axos," your fingers raked through his mane and he lowered himself to the ground, bending at the knee and waiting for you to clamber onto his back, you hitched the hem of your tattered dress around your thighs and swung your leg over his back, leaning your chest against it as he rose from the ground and cantered onward.

Arched branches brushed against your back as though in greeting, small animals peaked up from their stones and hearths to watch you pass by, and the darkening sky sparkled as the last touch of sun vanished from sight. Weakness settled into your bones, the adrenaline wearing off and leaving you exhausted and wincing at every movement Axos made as he carried you through the forest.

The stallion came to a slow stop, craning his neck to tell you that you were safe. Sitting upright, a sob escaped you as you laid eyes on Fir Manor, and you rubbed your eyes to make sure that it was real and not some sort of wicked dream. Sliding from Axos' back, cool cobbled stone greeted you, the warm Autumn wind flowed through your hair and filled you with energy.

You ran down the path, dress billowing behind you, and flew through the oaken door. Part of you had expected to see them all in the seating area, a fire roaring, Nesta curled up reading one of her smutty books, Elain and Lucien cuddling in the corner and comparing the sizes of their hands, and Eris sat reading reports with Willow resting in his lap.

But the manor was cold and dark, the usual fire that roared in the hearth was nothing but ash, the only light that existed was birthed from the moonlight pouring between the curtains. Tugging at the skin around your fingernails, you moved through the house, calling out for Eris and Nesta whilst following the soft tug deep within your soul; you made your way up the stairs and winced at every step, the twisted muscles in your leg causing you more pain than you'd like to admit. You padded down the halls, peeking into each room and feeling warmth pool in your heart, the neatly made beds and the cascade of trinkets that told you which room belonged to each member of your found family causing a faint smile to pull at your lips.

Continuing your search, you used the walls as a crutch, having to pause every few metres to take a deep breath to control the contorting pain in your leg and shoulders. The grating of your chains filled the silence, that, and the sound of your breathless straining as you meandered through the space. You stumbled forward, reaching for a familiar set of doors that upon looking to them caused memories to swirl in the forefront of your mind, memories of opening that same door on a light morning, a certain shirt drowning your figure and whiskey amber orbs trailing up your thighs. Hesitantly, you reach for the handle, taking it between your fingers and pushing the door open to find the same darkness that lingered across the estate, but also a pair of furry ears that had perked up the moment your head curled around the door.

Your shoulders fell lax and you let out a sigh, "Hello Willow," the pup cried and unfurled herself from the ball atop the cream comforter, tail wagging and softly slapping against the sheets, relieved whimpers flowing from her lungs. The hound gingerly nuzzled her snout into your open palm, resting her chin atop it and giving small licks to your wrists, "Have you been looking after him for me, hm?" As if she understood you, she cried once more and saddled up to the edge of the bed, leaning her body into yours and shivering as your hands rubbed small circles into her fur.

It hadn't changed, the room, all that was different was the aroma that clung to the air, of spiced oranges and pine, a tell-tale sign that Eris had tortured himself just to be able the breathe your scent to sleep. His clothes were strewn about the room, lazily draped across the back of the armchair and his riding coat hung on the corner of the mirror where your dress had once swayed. Open books were played over the coffee table, and upon further inspection, you recognised them to be the books that you had read once upon a time when you had been wedged beside him and dousing in his fire.

The windows were wide and welcoming, and you allowed yourself a moment of serenity. You approached the glass panes, fingers running down the lapels of Eris' riding coat before you wrapped your arms around yourself as your eyes scanned the estate, from the quaint ponds to the right to the small garden Elain had erected to the left, and sighed.

As if it were a dream, you heard voices darting about by the treeline, and your weak vision pinpointed the location exactly just as a speckle of red stepped onto the cobbled path. His eyes were frantic and wild, and he inhaled deeply, the scent of you threatening to cripple him to his knees.

Within moments his eyes were darting through the windows, working their way upward until he froze. Eris' eyes faltered, blinking furiously, and he took a single step forward, and that action was enough to make you turn on the balls of your feet and hurtle through the manor, ignoring the screaming in your body as you flew down the stairs and through the halls and seating area until you were flinging the door open and stepping into the moonlight.

Eris stood frozen at the end of the cobbled path, staring straight ahead at you, loosening a breath and eyes watering as you wobbled down the steps, "Eris? Are you listening? She wasn't there, she has to be in the forest somewhere," Nesta appeared at his side, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him lightly, trying to pour some sense into him to get him to turn around. Frustration built within her gut as he continued to stand there, cemented to the ground and staring ahead with features teeming with disbelief, "Eris, what are you-"

Nesta followed his line of sight, her words catching in her throat as her eyes landed on you; Nesta's hand dropped from his arm and she turned slightly, to Lucien and Elain who had also just stepped forward from the treeline.

It was then that Eris realised that it wasn't a dream, that Rhys hadn't somehow infiltrated his mind and filled it with torturous hope. The air was brimming with jasmine and sea salt, though it was laced with pain, of despair so heavy that he was wondering how you were still standing.

The cobbled stones shifted beneath his feet, each step absentmindedly quickening until he was running up the path. The closer he got, the clearer he could see the bags under your eyes that were illuminated by the pale moonlight, the thin arms and tattered skirt, the knotted hair and pallid skin, and the bands of onyx stone wound around your neck and ankles as well as the shackles tying your limbs together.

Before he had even reached you, your face contorted, arms stretching out to meet him as he collided with you, his arms wound around your broken and trembling body, lifting you into the air and burying his nose into the curve of your shoulder.

A sob ripped through you and your body shook, the weight of all that had happened crashing down on you causing a sorrowful scream to split past your lips. Eris sank to the ground with you, his arms not once moving from your body, they ran from your sides to your shoulders, and one hand curled around your head, tugging you into his chest, and Eris rested his chin atop of it, pressed his lips into your hair.

It was meant to be a beautiful moment, but the reality of it was far from beautiful. All you felt was pain, from the shackles digging into your skin to the onyx collar drinking your light, none of your thoughts were making any sense, and all you wanted was to have them off.

"Take them off," your broken voice pleaded, tears falling from your chin and sizzling against the searing skin that was peeling and marred, "Please. Please take them off."

"It's alright," Eris kept on repeating, his tone straining with each time it fell from his lips as you continued to plead, your gut wrenching sobs infecting his bones. Eris took one look into your eyes, and tears that streaked down your cheeks, and curled his fingers around the cuffs, willing them into molten pools of metal atop the cobbles and running his thumbs along the rings around your skin left in their wake.

Eris watched your eyes dart about, as though you were trying to figure out if it was all a hallucination or some cruel nightmare, like you'd blink and you'd be chained back inside the Prison. Eris cupped your face in his hands, his fingers cringing under the roughness of it, and will you to look at him, "You're safe. You're home and you're safe. We all are."

"I'm home?" The voice that asked him was so quiet, so full of doubt and disbelief that it made his features crumble, his bottom lip wobbling.

"You're home, my sweet fawn."

Stones skidded to your side, and gentle fingers rested against your elbow. Nesta smiled sadly at you, equally as horrified as relieved; she shuffled closer, the black velvet of her skirt cushioning her knees, and her fingers grazed over your protruding cheekbones, and you could tell that she was trying not to cringe at the touch, that she was trying not to hurt you.

"Nes," you travelled from Eris' embrace into her arms, resting your head against her sternum and allowing your eyes to drift closed.

Nesta nuzzled her cheek atop your head and locked her arms around you, rubbing soft circles into your spine, "Let's get you inside. How does a bath sound?"

The sound of a lavender soak kissing your muscles and sores made you moan, you nodded gently against her chest and groaned as she moved, securing her hands under your shoulders and lifting you to your feet. Nesta waited there for a moment, head low and eyes pleading you to tell her to stop if it was too much, after a few moments you nodded and leaned into her warmth and strength to lead you back inside.

Eris watched Nesta handle you with care, he too had rose to his feet and trailed behind your form, counting each knot of your spine that peaked out from the ripped dress on your body; but he stopped at the steps, waiting until you had disappeared into the house before turning to Lucien and Elain.

"Elain, would you-" Eris' voice trailed off, his eyes drifting to the ajar door to the manor before moving back to her. Elain, not needing him to finish, squeezed his forearm and lifted the hem of her dress to follow after you, leaving Lucien and Eris in the moonlight.

The two brothers shared a look, one of concern. Helion was right, Rhys had diminished you to an entirely different being, starkly different to the female who had left the Autumn Court late in the night.

"All that matters is that she's back, and that Rhys is far away suffering the same torture he imposed onto her," Lucien was trying to be positive despite the doubt in his mind that you would never be the same, "She'll need time to adjust."

Eris turned to his brother, to the one who had brought some semblance of light to his days without you, "She can have whatever she needs," he told Lucien sternly, doing his best to keep himself from losing his mind and tearing the Night Court to shreds, from decimating the Prison that would haunt your life for eternity.

A faint smile worked its way onto Lucien's lips, and he rested a firm hand on Eris' shoulder, "She's home, Eris."

Humming, Eris exhaled, "Yeah, she is."

The two Vanserra's entered the manor, sealing it shut and working quickly to warm the room, lighting the fire and preparing an array of teas and warming delicacies for you to graze on if you could stomach it. Eris fluffed the pillows and gathered your favourite blankets that he had stuffed away into a cupboard, and he had propped a stack of books on the tabletop, each one whimpering for your touch.

Elsewhere in the manor, you sat in silence, curled with your knees to your chest in the deep set tub of your, or Eris', bedroom. A thick shirt covered your figure, you didn't want anyone to see the body beneath it, but the water and soaps still worked tirelessly to wash away the pain etched onto your skin. Nesta was perched behind you, gingerly conditioning your hair and brushing the concoction through, untangling every knot with her nimble fingers whilst Elain applied healing creams to the brutalised flesh left behind from the shackles that had limited your every movement and thought.

Once they were done and your skin was clear of dirt, ash, and blood, the two Archeron sisters lifted you from the tub and settled you on the edge, drying you off and wrapping bandages around the bridges of your feet, and making sure the most comfortable of Nesta's loungewear drowned your frame.

The soft fabric felt like a luxury as it coiled around you, it glided against your skin and the painless friction made you shudder, like you had just then realised that nothing could hurt you ever again as long as you were in Autumn surrounded by those who adored you.

Nesta fitted the robe around your body, making sure that it fell down your legs and was long enough for you to tuck your feet into once you were sat down.

Before she left, Elain pressed her lips to your cheek, smiling softly against your skin at the colour that had returned there. It was wonderous what a bath could do to a person. Blissfully promising to see you in a few minutes, she slipped from the room and didn't linger.

Moving your gaze from the door to Nesta who was rising from the ground after applying the last of the healing cream to your ankles, you spoke, "He's my mate. Isn't he?"

Nesta shot upright, the small jar of cream tumbling to the ground, "You know?"

"I felt it," your fingers drifted over the spot in your chest that you had forced yourself to ignore for so long, now knowing what it was, "The moment he started running," your brow furrowed and Nesta took a step closer, noticing the wandering thoughtful glint in your darkened eyes, "I think- I think I always knew. When I was there, I felt this tugging, and I tried my best to ignore it but it didn't want to leave," your gaze shifted to her, "It was him, wasn't it?"

Nesta thinned her lips to stop them from quaking and nodded, "Yes. It was," you trailed small swirls atop the fabric of the robe, a soft smile turning the corners of your lips upward, "I think you should speak to Cassian. I know that you left him, that you chose me, but," you picked at your fingernails but she gently took your hands in hers, halting the faint self mutilation in its tracks, "I just think that you should speak to him."

"Alright," a flash of knowing sparked in her eyes and it had you wondering what she had seen, what she knew, but that was a conversation for a different day. Nesta turned her head slightly, grinning at the conversation and warmth floating up through the manor, "Let's go. They're waiting for us."

The manor felt starkly different to how it had when you had first arrived back within it. Warmth coated the walls that were illuminated by golden faelight, soft chatter drifted up the stairs as well as the aroma of herbs and faintly-sweetened citrus, so delicate that it make your stomach grumble in desire. Though, the food wasn't what you were craving.

The weightless padding of your feet down the stairs drew the attention of the room, and Eris was relieved to see you clean and skin nearly glowing despite the rings of onyx that Nesta had done her best to mask, more for you than anyone else. He didn't know how he was going to rid you of them, but he was determined to find a way, so that you didn't have to live with them constantly reminding you of what you had endured. Gaze flickering across the room, you noted the spread of Autumn delicacies and pastries, and your focus faltered when you spied the lemon cake resting in the centre of the table surrounded by an array of steaming teapots.

A gentle brush against your calves pulled your eyes away, and you peered down to see Willow at your side, nose nudging you onward, and it would have been rude to deny her.

The space beside Eris was waiting for you, his arm was slung over the edge of the deep cushioned seat, blankets positioned in such a way that all you would need to do was grab an edge and pull it over your frame. Without thinking, you moved across the room and crawled along the cushions to nestle yourself under his arm, wrapping your arm over his torso and resting your head against his chest to feel his heartbeat against your skin.

Eris sank a little deeper into the cushions, pulling you closer to him and reaching over to drape a blanket over your legs, a thick red wine piece that you had often bundled yourself up in, and smirking when Willow hopped up onto the surface to prop her chin on your thigh.

Eyes drifting open, you caught Lucien in the chair opposite you, he offered you a small smile, one full of promise that everything was going to be alright.

And for the first time, you felt as though it would be.

You returned the sentiment, matching his smile in silent thanks for keeping Eris going for the duration you had been gone, and Lucien caught it, nodding in response.

The tugging in your chest had returned, a gentle knocking on your soul no doubt spurred on by Eris' nose in your hair, his lips pressing into the crown of your head. Closing your eyes, you opened the door and allowed the bond to complete itself and drown you in all of his love and pain and peace, and you caressed his emotions, balling them up in your essence and soothing them.

At the feeling, Eris gasped, his fingers clenching around your waist and the hand that had been resting on the arm moved to lay on the side of your face.

You know.

Eris' voice sauntered into your mind. The Carranam status of your bond ran deeper than the layers of the world, than the very foundations of life, and the mutter of his voice in your consciousness brought a level of serenity to your soul that you thought you'd never get to feel again.

I know.

To anyone else, the sight before them would be a tender moment between two lost souls, but to you, everything you had ever dreamed of was happening right before your very eyes and within your soul. A mate. A home. A family. A chance of life.

Not needing to say anything else, Eris pressed his lips to your forehead, his fingers caressing your skin and running through your still slightly damp hair, "Would you like some lemon cake? It's your favourite," he told you with a slight tone of teasing, eyes faintly mischievous.

Humming, you glanced to the side to see Elain already sliding a piece of it onto a small plate, the icing shining in the light, and she rose to place it within reach, "Do you even have to ask?"

Author's Note

FINALLY 🥺🥺

Hope this was worth the wait x

Taglist

@mybestfriendmademe @jesskidding3 @rosewood-cafe @fandomarchiveilyd @brujitafantomatico @crazylokonugget @mai-adaptive-dreams @magicstrengthandcourage @acourtofmoonlightandstars @ysmtttty @lilah-asteria @circe143 @xyzmeh @paleidiot @namelesssav @amberlynn98 @acourtofbatboydreams @azrielsmate3 @ivy-34 @mp-littlebit @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @ifonlyiwerefiction @pirana10 @donttellthecats @padbaeamidla @oucereeng @andreperez11 @demonicbusiness @megscabinetofcurios @superspideyparker @julesofvolterra @5onedirection5 @darling006 @coldmermaidhologram @herondale-lightworm @rcarbo1 @babypeapoddd

[pit-and-the-pen]

69 and 98 of the prompt list for Azriel 🙇 you just write him so well, no worries if not!! 🧡🧡

This was not supposed to be this long but I was listening to sleep token while writing this, I was also already planning out a fic that these prompts fit into perfectly.

warnings: Smut (18+), oral (M/F receiving), Bondage, knife mention (only to cut rope), mid-sized reader (could be read as plus sized too), unprotected sex, praise, degradation.

WC: 4.7k

You were just putting the back of your earring in when you met hazel eyes in the mirror. A smile danced its way across your face when you saw the way his eyes were trailing ever so slowly down your figure, lingering on your waist. Or more so the way the dress you were currently wearing was cutting into it, accentuating your already plush thighs. 

“So pretty.” He whispered into the air as he walked closer to you. His hand gently swiped your hair to one side of your hair and he placed a kiss on your bare shoulder. 

“My pretty girl.” The reverence in his tone made you giggle. His teeth gave you a soft nip at the sound. “I mean it. All of this for me? Gods, how’d I get so lucky?” He speaks into your skin. You shift under his praise, his breath on your shoulder making a small shutter ripple through you. 

“I wonder what you would do if you saw what was underneath?” Another laugh bubbled out as his eyes snapped to yours. His hands were already snaking along your waist, twisting to find the hem of your dress. He let out a downright sinful moan when he was greeted with the baby pink thong you were wearing. Cut high on your hips, elastic ever so slightly pushing in the flesh. The matching garter belt sitting above it, hugging your thighs like it was his hands wrapped around them. He ran his hands softly over the globes of your ass, squeezing in the perfect way. You found yourself arching back into his touch, leaning into him. His hands fanned out to your thighs, just resting his hands on the widest part. His eyes met yours in the mirror and he tugged you further against him. You didn’t miss the way his eyes dipped lower for a fraction of a second as your chest bobbed ever so slightly at the action. Your hand went to rest lightly on the mirror for balance and you were just about to reach back for him when Azriel cleared his throat. 

“Just for me right?” Azriel said as he flipped the edge of your dress back down. You turned around in his grasp and grabbed his hand. 

“Of course.” You raised onto your tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek. “Only for you.” He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you flush to him. You could feel every inch of his muscled body against yours and had to bite back a groan when you felt his arousal already straining against his dress pants. You bit your lip and he pushed a leg between yours. He pulled your lips towards his hungrily, hands instantly twining into your hair. The kiss was all teeth and tongue. Both of your chests are heaving. When your hand started to drift down to his belt, he grabbed your wrist to stop it’s descent. The action caused a whimper to leave your mouth that he just swallowed down. He pulled his lips away from yours, leaning his forehead against yours. You sucked down greedy lungfuls of air as you willed your heart rate to calm. 

“If your hand goes any lower, we’re not making it to this dinner.” He rasps. Your gaze lifts to his, eyes wide and innocent as you trail your hand lower once again. Your fingers just barely brush past the straining fabric before your hand is pinned against your side. 

“Oh sweetheart.” He tisked. His eyes darkened slightly as they swept over you. “You seemed to think that was a request.” His thumb started to rub small circles over your wrist that was straining against his hold. “You’re lucky this dinner is important to Rhys or else you would not be able to walk in the morning.”

“Do you really think you could do that?” You were only causing more problems for yourself at this point but you were desperately hoping he would just break and give you what you wanted right now. As soon as the words left your mouth, your back was pressed against the wall, a scarred hand wrapped tightly around your throat. Not enough to cut off the blood flow but just enough for you to feel the weight of it there. An invitation for you to keep running your mouth. 

“Do you wanna repeat that, princess?” Fuck it.

“I don’ think you could fuck me hard enough for me to not be able to walk. That’s all.” You smiled as his fingers twitched slightly. HIs shoulders moved up as he sucked in a deep breath. 

“We’ll see about that won’t we.” His hand left your neck and trailed up your jaw. You gasped as his hand pinned your head back to the wall by the roots of your hair. His hold forces you to look him in the eyes. “I’m going to give you one last chance to say sorry, bunny.” You opened your mouth slightly before closing it. Making it look like you were really considering your words. 

The smile didn’t leave your face as you uttered out a sickly sweet. “Make me.” His hands only gripped your hair tighter, making tears prickle in the corner of your eyes. 

“You could have been my good girl tonight.” His hand let your hair and he backed up a few paces. “But if that’s how you want to be. Fine.” He reached down to adjust himself. “‘Finish getting ready, we’re leaving in ten minutes.” Your lips parted to argue, but he only reached out a hand to shut your mouth. “This is not a discussion. I’ll be downstairs and don’t even think of touching yourself.” He pulled his touch away and you felt cold despite the fire roaring through your veins. That was all he said before he walked out of the bedroom. Leaving you to wonder what exactly you had gotten yourself into.

You were all but running down the stairs to reach the bottom before your time was up. 

“That was fifteen.” His voice was cold, a smirk plastered onto his face. Shadows wrapped around your waist the moment your feet were on flat ground again. “You’re only making this worse for yourself. But what did I expect?” It sounded like he was talking to himself and you felt your cheeks heat up as he talked about you like you weren’t standing right in front of him. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Oh, not as much as you will be later. Come on.” He reached out a hand for you to take. You didn’t hesitate to thread your fingers through his. He pulled you close to his side as he winnowed you outside of the restaurant Feyre had been raving about for the last year and a half. 

His arm was slung casually over yours, fingers dancing along the skin he had bitten earlier. He didn’t leave a mark but you swore you could still feel his teeth. You shifted your weight and he gave a small laugh. “Behave.” Was the only reminder you were given before you walked into the restaurant. 

Your friends were already waiting for you. Five pairs of eyes flickering up to greet you. Feyre rose to her feet to give you a crushing hug when Azriel sent the first image down the bond. It was from last week, you on your knees. His head was thrown back as he gritted out your name, the moment right before he spilled down your thro- and then it was gone. You pulled away from Feyre and ignored the confused look she gave you. The others all gave their greeting before Azriel was pulling out your chair for you, hands not leaving the back until you were seated. He gave you a quick peck on the crown of your head before he took his own seat. His stance was a little wider than normal, one hand already resting on your knee. Tracing absentminded circles onto your overheated skin. His thumb lightly scratched behind his touch. The waiter brought out a few bottles of wine and you didn’t hesitate to pour yourself a slightly-too-large glass. You took a few heavy gulps before you put the glass down. A gentle wave came from the other side of the bond, soothing in a way that had you squirming despite yourself. Gentle like a hunter stalking their prey. The conversation flowed between all of you. Catching up since you all saw a lot less of each other these days. While Feyre was talking about how Nyx was doing in school, you tried not to notice the way that she was only drinking water. No one else seemed to clock it either. You’d have to pry later in the night. But just as soon as the thought crossed your mind, Azriel sent you another image. He had your legs pressed together, slung over one of his shoulders. Gripping so hard that your hips were leaving the mattress altogether. Soft cries of his name were pulled from your bruised lips over and over again. Azriel’s pleasure rose with every lethal snap of his hips. Rising rising until he- . Gone again. Your head snapped in his direction, eyes wide at the image he had sent you.You couldn’t stop the slight pout that rested on your face. 

Dinner passed by slowly. Between Azriel’s hands slowly creeping higher on your thigh and the debauched thoughts he was sending down the bond, you were already a wreck. Your thighs hurt with how tightly they were squeezed shut. Your mate's heavy hand trying to sooth away some of the tension. Azriel sent you a warm feeling down the bond that had you relaxing ever so slightly. Nothing but pure love. The glow that he felt while watching you take all of this without so much of a blush on your cheeks. Pure male pride. 

After the main course, you were damn near in his lap. Chair scooted slightly in his direction, legs pressed against each other. Cries of dessert were being thrown around and you felt like you were going to cry with frustration before you heard Azriel laughing, shaking his head slightly. 

“She wasn’t feeling too good earlier but she didn’t want to miss this. But I can tell she’s getting tired. We should probably go home, shouldn’t we be my love?” He lied seamlessly. His fingers drumming a beat on your thigh. You nodded along, clearing your throat before you spoke. 

“Yeah. I’ve had this weird stomach ache all day. But I was just so excited to see you all.”

“Oh, that’s perfectly fine. Feyre fully understands upset stomach as of late.” Rhys answered and he grunted as Feyre’s elbow found a soft spot between his ribs. Feyre rolled her eyes before she shot you a wink, holding up her glass of ice water like she had known you were eyeing it earlier. A silent confirmation that had another round of chatter starting. Eventually, you and Azriel were able to shake off all the goodbyes. Hugs and kisses on cheeks and promises of getting together sooner rather than later were exchanged. 

Azriel placed a hand on the small of your back as you weaved your way out of the now crowded restaurant. His hand didn't move until he pulled you in his arms to winnow you two home. 

The front door of your apartment was in view and Azriel only gestured to you to open the door. Timidly you fished out your key from the small clutch you were carrying and opened the door to your home. Fae lights flickering on as you step in. YOu could feel Azriel’s presence behind you. Could feel his shadows slinking across the ground, muffling your footsteps. Could feel the way his wings had flared out ever so slightly, becoming even more intimidating and impressive. Both of your wants seemed to charge the air with a delicious electric tension. This was one of your favorite parts of the night. To see who would crack first. You paused by the front door only enough to kick off your heels before you continued up the stairs to your bedroom. Azriel was close behind you. Not close enough that he was touching you but close enough for you to feel his body heat. He might as well have been touching every inch of you for how much you could sense his presence. 

The fae lights flickered on in your room and you turned around to face your mate. He paused, eyes full of a predatory hunger. That look was almost enough to send you to your knees right then and there but you didn’t move a muscle before he told you too. You were already in enough trouble. So you stood stock still as he closed the distance between the two of you. HIs hand trailed from the edge of your jaw to the dip of your waist, feather light touches that had you leaning into his touch. He lightly grabbed your wrist and with a tug turned you around to face the other wall. His hand traveled all the way up your arm, over your shoulder and to the nape of your neck to start sliding down the zipper of your dress. The straps fell down as the fabric was pulled apart. You didn’t try to grab it as you shrugged them off, letting the fabric pool at your bare feet. The action left you clad in only the tiny thong and the matching lace bra. You were already shaking in anticipation. A gentle vibration that swept over your whole body. He held out a hand for you to take, and guided you to step out of your dress. Once you had, he dropped your hand. Touch hovering over your skin, drawing goosebumps like it might allow his skin to make contact with yours. A small step backwards towards him brought his hand up on the small of your back to stop your movement. His free hand twisted your hair into his fist. He pulled your head back to look up at the ceiling. 

“Now, what should I do with you?” His lips ghosted over your neck. YOu let out a pathetic whimper, craving his touch more and more every second. 

“Az..” You started but a harsh yank on your hair pulled a yelp out of you instead. 

“You don’t get to speak. Not unless I tell you to.” He whispered against the shell of your ear. “Not a single sound. Since I apparently can’t fuck you hard enough. It shouldn’t be a problem to keep quiet.” It wasn’t a question, merely him musing. So you kept your eyes on the ceiling. Not moving a muscle. 

You felt the absence of his presence but didn’t take your eyes off the ceiling, squirming with anticipation. His shadows were lightly trailing over your skin, you bit your lip to keep your moans at bay. The soft thud that filled the room let you know he had pulled something out the drawer of your nightstand. Your head slowly lowered and you were greeted with the sight of Azriel stalking towards you, a bundle of rope in his hands. He queried an eyebrow up, a silent question. You nodded. You could feel the way your chest was rapidly rising and falling, the slight shake in your knees as you thought of what was to come. His nostrils flared slightly as you sent your want down the bond. He made a content noise in the back of his throat before he walked behind you. 

With nibble fingers, he wrapped the rope around your shoulders first, forcing your shoulders back ever so slightly. You felt the way your it pushed your chest up. He slipped a finger between the rope and skin to make sure it wasn’t too tight as he tied off the first knot. He then grabbed your wrists and placed them right at the small of your back and looped the rope around them three times. He took his time with the process. Relishing in the calming actions of tying you up like his own personal present. He tied off the last knot and gave your arms a slight tug. 

“How is that? You can speak.” He whispered into your neck, trailing kisses where your neck met your shoulders. YOu gave a strong yank on your ties, testing them. As usual, they were flawless. Not giving an inch. Not too tight but just enough to bite into your skin. Azriel was always good about that. You never worried about if it would hurt you or not. 

“Perfect.” You said when you were confident they weren’t going anywhere. Your words were rewarded with a mean swipe of his tongue over your neck, followed by a sharp bite. You mewled at the touch and he only bit harder. 

“Already making such pretty sounds. But I told you to be quiet sweetheart.” He rumbled against your skin. You nodded, acknowledging his words. 

He hooked his hand into the middle of the harness he tied and lead you over to the bed. With a gentle possession, he guided you down until your chest was pressed against the mattress. Ass up in the air at his disposal. His leg nudged between your thighs, parting them widely for him. A small gasp left your lips at the feeling of the cold air on your soaked folds. You could already feel your arousal coating your thighs. 

“Gods, look at how wet my pretty girl is.” He pressed up against you, hands kneading at your hips. Then his touch was gone and you wiggled your hips slightly at the loss of contact. That was when you felt his hands gripping your ass, and a delicious swipe of his tongue up your glistening folds. You buried your face in the mattress to stop the moans that were building in your throat. Fingers flexing around the ties keeping your arms pinned to your back. He wasted no time, no warm up as he dove in. Tongue entering your hole causing you to clench down at the pressure. Too much and not enough all at once. Your hips tilted ever so slightly and his hand twisted to your front to hold your hips still. You hoped he couldn’t make out the string of curses that left your lips when that hand drifted down lower and started swirling tight, fast circles on your clit. Your hips moved in time with his fingers. Rocking like those fingers were controlling. Between his skill fingers and his tongue lavishing between his legs, you were so close to your orgasm. You were about to open your mouth to let him know before you felt him pull away from you. Before you could even protest, he grabbed your arms and flipped you onto your back. The air left your lungs with a tiny grunt as you took in him hovering over you, arms caged above your head. 

He trailed a finger down from your cheek all the way to your stomach, tracing over your arms, your shoulder, collar bone until he reached the apex of your thighs. 

“Eyes on me.” He growled as he sunk two thick fingers inside your fluttering hole. You tasted blood as your teeth dug into the side of your cheek, desperate to scream his name. Youpulled at your binds. Wanting to reach out and touch the membrane on his wings. Anything that would break the calm, controlled male in front of you. As much as you loved his fingers you wanted him inside you. You let your eyes close and he growled. He curled his fingers against the spot that had your eyes snapping open and a high pitch version of his name pushed through your locked lips. He didn’t acknowledge it, just sped up his fingers. The sounds of the digits sinking into you over and again filled the room. No sounds of your cries to drown them out. The sound alone could have made you cum. Proof of how much he affected you. Your legs were moving, clenching together as you tried to fight off your inevitable orgasm until he gave you the word. He shook his head lightly, before pushing his elbow in between your legs, then sliding onto his stomach. His shoulders crushed any hope of you closing your legs, so you let them splay out to the side. No longer caring if you had permission to cum. He didn’t slow down his fingers and you started to shake ever so slightly. Small jerks in time with his fingers as you were tipping over the edge. Head thrown back. And then his fingers were gone. A cry of protest left your mouth and you tilted your head back down to see him. A shit eating grin plastered across his face. He ignored the look of outrage and stood up, his figure looming over you. 

“You look so beautiful tied up like that.” Azriel ran two fingers down from the top of your hand all the way to your collarbone. A deep shudder ran through your whole body, goosebumps erupting below his feather light touch. 

“Az, please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. Please let me come, please.” Not caring that you weren’t supposed to be making any noise. The words spilled out of your mouth, pleading for that sweet release that he had ripped away from you again. 

“I know you are.” His hand trailed over your cheek, smearing your arousal in his wake. “But I don't care how sorry you are.” He flipped you over onto your stomach and hiked your hips into the air. Landing a smack over your ass for good measure. The yelp you let out morphed into a high pitched wail as he sunk into the hilt in one push. You close your eyes as you swore you could feel the way his cock pushed your walls apart. Hitting that special spot perfectly without trying. He gave you a single breath to adjust before one of his hands snuck up to gather your hair, the other keeping a tight grip on your hip. Your hands were still bound against your back so you could do nothing but lay there as he ground his hips into you. Working deep and fast strokes. You might have been screaming but you didn’t care. You could only think of how closer you were to coming all over his beautiful cock. Unable to find the words to let him know, you just tried to keep the feeling at bay. Panting a broken version of his name which each filthy thrust. The sound of your bodies hitting filled the room over your cries. His own groans and curses flowy freely from his mouth as he tugged you against his chest. 

“Not so big and bold when I’m fucking you dumb are you?” Each word was punctuated with a deep thrust. You shook your head. Hands trying to claw at the ties on your wrist. You could reach out and touch his stomach with how tightly  you were pulled against him. A single finger stroked at his abs and he was tugging your hair back harder, forcing you to look at the ceiling. “Gods you’re such a fucking brat. But mother above do I love it. I fucking love you so muh princess. You take my cock so well. Like you were made just for this.” He kept rambling. Words bubbling over his lips and you could do nothing but take and feel and scream his name. 

“Gonna…please. I need to cum.” You panted out, head slumping just slightly under his hold. He licked a long stripe up your neck before he let go of your hair, arm wrapping around your waist. You actually cried out as he pulled out. You bound hand clutching around the air, begging him to come back.

“No.No.. Please. I’m sorry. I’ll do anything. I just. Pretty please. I want to come so badly.” 

“Shh.” He whispered into your ear. “I’m gonna lay down and I want you to be a good girl and ride my face until you come. Can you do that?” The idea of not being able to cum around his pretty cock had you whimpering. You felt a shadow wrap around your shoulder, tempting you to move higher on the bed. 

“The only way you’re going to cum tonight sweetheart is on my tongue. So either I can shove my cock down your throat and you don’t get anything but my cum painting that wicked mouth. or you can put that pretty cunt on my face and finally get what you want so badly.” You whined again at his words. Whined at the way they sent another wave of pure want through you. 

“But what if-”

“You won’t. And even if you did, which again you won’t, I couldn’t think of a better way to go then with my tongue buried inside of you.” He was already leaning back against the headboard, waiting for you to make your move. You saw how hard he was and thought maybe having your mouth wrapped around him wasn’t so bad. The thought must have been plastered across your face because he flexed his hips and you didn’t hesitate before you bent over his lap. It was hard without the use of your hands but once he figured out what you were going for, he took your hair in his hand and helped guide you to his throbbing length. 

“Such a cock slut that you couldn’t say no to it could you.” He teased and you could only shake your head as meat as you could. Already touching his stomach with the tip of your nose. The stretch in your throat burned just a little. Tears twinging the corners of your eyes. But you absorbed the feeling. He was warm and heavy against your tongue. The skin so pretty and smooth. You could feel the way he was already twitching in your mouth. 

“So good. Doing so well for me baby. My fucking good girl.” His teeth were clenched tightly. Barley gritting out the words as he started to thrust his hips in time with your mouth. You moan around his length and you pull you off of him. He yanked you up by your hair until your lips were pressed against his. His tongue pushed into your mouth so possessively that you melted against him. 

“Fuck it.” He twisted you so you were straddling him. His hand reached out towards the nightstand and grabbed a small dagger that you kept by whenever the rope was out. The blade cut through the ties like butter and your hands were instantly on his shoulders. He reached down a hand and helped you guide him into you and you both were moaning as you sunk down all the way. A few timid pulls up and down had his head thrown back, moans and groans sliding through his plush lips. You leaned down and started sucking bruises on his neck at the same time your hips increased in pace. You rode him only searching for your pleasure. Pressing up against your g-spot again and again until you were seeing stars. 

“I can feel you squeezing around me. Cum for me, pretty girl.” And that was all you needed to explode around him. His hand on your hip rolled your hips as your orgasm left you twitching above him. He wasn’t far behind you and a few more strokes was all it took for him to spill himself inside of you. Burying himself deep against your cervix as he grip your hip hard enough to bruise. He rolled you both over and pulled you tight against his chest. His hand massaging the tender flesh on your wrists, slowly bringing the muscles back to life. Rubbing the stiffness out of your shoulders. You melted further into him. 

“I am sorry. For all that I said.” You whispered against his chest. 

“No you aren’t.” He joked, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “And I love you for it.”

“I love you too.” You said as you connected your lips to his and relished in the afterglow.

Tagging the mutuals: @sarawritestories @milswrites @ninthcircleofprythian @daycourtofficial @nocasdatsgay

[feyreswaterybowels]

𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝙵𝚎𝚕𝚕

ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ x ʀʜʏꜱ!ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2ᴋ

ᴛᴀɢꜱ/ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ʟᴏꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴀᴛᴇ. ᴅᴇᴘʀᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ɢʀɪᴇᴠɪɴɢ. ᴘᴀɴɪᴄ ᴀᴛᴛᴀᴄᴋ. ꜱᴜɪᴄɪᴅᴀʟ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛꜱ. ʀʜʏꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴀꜱꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ. ʜᴇᴀᴠʏ ʟɪʙᴇʀᴛɪᴇꜱ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ ꜱʏꜱᴛᴇᴍ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ.

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ꜱɪx ᴍᴏɴᴛʜꜱ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ꜱᴛᴀʀ. ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ ɪs ɢʀɪᴇᴠɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴏss ᴏꜰ ʜɪs ᴍᴀᴛᴇ. ʜɪs ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ sᴏ ᴡᴏʀʀɪᴇᴅ ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʜɪᴍ. ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴠᴀɪʟ ɪɴ ʜɪs ᴊᴏᴜʀɴᴇʏ ᴛᴏ ɢᴇᴛ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ʜɪs sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰɪɢʜᴛ ʜɪs ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ᴅᴇᴍᴏɴs ᴀs ʜᴇ ᴛʀɪᴇs ᴛᴏ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ ᴏɴ ᴏʀ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʙᴇ ᴍᴇʀᴄɪꜰᴜʟ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰɪɴᴀʟʟʏ ᴀʟʟᴏᴡ ʜɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪs ᴍᴀᴛᴇ?

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ

⋆ ݁⟡ ݁☾ ݁⟡ ݁⋆

Azriel’s eyes shot open when he sensed a presence in his room, instantly reaching for the dagger on his night stand. He looked around wildly but there was nothing. No one.

His shadows were tense. Alert. They sensed it too.

Azriel stood from the bed cautiously, bare feet on cold stone. His shadows instantly shielded him. If there was something in this room he would be invisible to them now.

He crept around the room, taking in every inch. Every shadowy corner. He looked behind the curtains. In the massive wardrobes. Under his bed, in his bathroom. Nothing. He walked to the balcony—that feeling of another being there rushed over him. He stepped out, the night breeze chilled his skin instantly and his eyes narrowed.

Nothing.

Then he felt it.

He gasped, dagger dropping to the ground as his hands clutched at his chest.

There was a tug. A tug right in the center of his chest, a tug in that black hole that had been there for months.

He fell to his knees. He couldn’t breathe. His chest was pounding.

“Rhys!” He hissed to his shadows, “Go get Rhys!”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

One hundred and eighty days.

Twenty six weeks.

Six Months.

Six months since Azriel lost the love of his life. His beautiful, sweet mate that he had foolishly turned away—who in her final moments may not have believed his love for her.

He would never forget the look on her face when that damned hyber soldier shoved a sword through her, how his shadows tried to desperately tend to her wounds as he tried to find help, the way she clung to him as her blood soaked through his armor. He remembered it, all of it. Every touch, every look, every whispered word from their last moments together played on repeat in his head.

It was all he dreamed about.

That was probably why he hadn’t left his room much the last six months. All he wanted was sleep because that’s where she was. Even if it was only a glimpse, even if the dream turned into a nightmare he didn’t care. If he could see her that’s all he cared about.

And when he wasn’t sleeping?

Well, he just laid in bed, his shadows curled against him as he stared at the roof or hid under his blanket and considered leaving this earth behind until sleep finally consumed him once again.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Violet blues were in front of him and Azriel immediately reached for him—scarred hand fisting in the dark material of his shirt.

“Az—”

“I can’t,” Azriel gasped, his shadows in a flurry around him. “I can’t breathe, Rhys. I can’t. I—”

“You can, come on, you have to take a breath. You have to calm down before you pass out,” Rhys said, grabbing him—one hand on his shoulder the other on the side of his face.

“Breathe. Come on, Az, breathe with me brother…”

He couldn’t. Rhys' words were drowned out by the ringing in his ears. He gasped again, doubling over again as that tugging in his chest began again. Feeling as if he was being shredded apart from the inside.

Azriel met Rhys’ eyes, saw the panic there, caught just a glimpse of Cassian as he landed on the balcony behind Rhys. The distant concerned shrill of Feyre’s voice. Rhys’ hand left his shoulder, grasping the other side of his face—he looked to be nearly yelling at him, shaking his head at something Cassian said.

His lungs hurt so bad, refusing to take in the air he was desperately trying to breathe. He’s going to pass out, he knows he it, he can feel the lightness in his head as his vision started fading around the edges.

He looked at Rhy again, but this time those violet blues didn’t belong to Rhys.

No. The face looking back at him was the one he’s been searching for since the last time he saw it all those months ago. The one his heart called out for. He reached out, scarred fingertips tracing along her cheek, his lungs finally filling with the breath he was so desperate for.

“Stella…” he gasped as he lost consciousness.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

It was the midst of battle when he felt that tug in his chest, worry spreading through his chest. He shoved the dead soldier off his sword and spun around looking for her. She tugged again. He felt panicked, something felt wrong—had been feeling wrong all morning.

When his eyes met hers, she tugged that bond between him and he felt it. She had the same awful gut feeling he had. He nodded in confirmation, tugging that bond between them—the first time he’d acknowledged it.

He almost smiled at her, almost urged her to come closer when a figure suddenly appeared behind her.

No!

But the words wouldn’t come out. All he could feel was dread. He tugged that bond again trying to alert her. Why couldn’t he move? He felt frozen in his spot. He tugged that bond as hard as he could, hoping, praying to the mother that maybe he could pull her to him.

His entire body ran cold as that Hybern soldier appeared right behind her. The he felt it as it happened, watched as that sword pierced right through her stomach.

No. No. No. No! He was screaming, fighting that invisible force was holding him.

He watched her face crumple as she looked down at the sword impaling her. She looked back at him, a gasping sob ripped from her throat as that soldier pulled his blade from her body.

“NO!” Azriel’s shout left his throat, so loud it shook the earth around them.

He watched as she touched that bloody wound in shock—only half paying attention to the fact that Cassian had just killed that soldier but Stella was falling. Her wings had given out and she was plummeting towards the earth—

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

He woke with a gasp, nearly toppling from the bed he'd laid on.

“Hey, hey, Az,” A voice echoed before a hand came down on his shoulder. He looked for the owner of that voice, finding his brother there—a look of concern on Rhys’ face.

“What the hell happened?” Azriel breathed, rubbing his hands over his face roughly, his body feeling fatigued and weak.

“We could ask you the same question,” the owner of that voice was Cassian.

“Azriel, I’ve given you time. I know it's been hard but it’s time to talk about it. You can’t keep living like this and I can’t keep watching you waste away,” Rhys said, firm and commanding.

Azriel looked at him, then Cassian. Felt the tears in his eyes, saw the worry in theirs.

“Fuck,” he breathed, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, running a hand through his hair. Sat there silently for a moment.

He didn’t see the look his brother shared, the way they silently communicate their concerns to one another.

“I don’t know…” Azriel started, thinking of the words he wanted to say. “I don’t know if I want to live without her anymore.”

The weight of those words was heavy, hitting his brothers hard.

“Is that why you’ve been in your room? Refusing to eat or train? Because you…because you want to die?” Rhys asked, his voice still strong but there was something else there—a silent fear.

“Not entirely,” Azriel shook his head. “Three months ago I started having dreams of her. She’s all I think about in my waking moments and she’s all I see in my dreams. Sometimes they are horrible dreams but I—I stay in bed because when I am awake all I remember is that she is gone but when I sleep she is still with me. I can see her, I can hear her laugh, I can hold her in my arms, kiss her, tell her—tell her I love her and want to be her mate. And I just—”

A sob cut him off as the tears fell freely from his eyes.

“Az,” Rhys breathed, reaching out to grab his brother, wrapping him in a hug the best he could from the side.

Looking to Cassian he saw those hazel eyes brimmed with tears, their brother's pain so strong it hurt them too.

“I miss her so much,” Azriel sobbed, clutching to Rhys.

Cassian couldn’t stand there any longer, moving to the bed and sitting, reaching out and wrapping his arms around his brothers. He wasn’t afraid to let his tears flow as they all sat there together, trying to bring whatever comfort they could to their broken brother.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

It’s three days later when Azriel wakes, his body so exhausted from crying and speaking his feelings that he just slept and slept. Only dreaming of his girl. Not a single nightmare in sight.

As he was laying in bed, the dreams circled over and over in his head. He felt as if she was trying to tell him something, that maybe wherever she was she was still trying to be there for him.

She wouldn’t want this for him. She wouldn’t want him to lay in bed wasting away. She wouldn’t want him to die alone in his room. He couldn’t live his life with her. But he could live his life for her.

So he got up. It was slow, his shadows helped him. His muscles and joints hurt. His wings felt incredibly heavy. And…gods, was that smell him?

He looked towards the window. If he bathed now maybe he could have breakfast with his family. He missed them.

His brothers. His high lady and her sisters. Mor. And even Amren.

He was slow to move to the bathroom—he hadn’t noticed a few days ago or even that night he thought someone was in his room but now? Fuck, he felt it all now.

The bath was already steaming and he had half a mind to praise the house for that but his mental capacity wasn’t quite there yet. Instead he let his shadows undress him and balance him as he stepped into the large deep bath, immediately submerging himself in the warmth, sharing the weight of his body with the water took off a huge strain from his muscles.

Step one: get strength back.

He almost felt too weak to even bathe but while he washed himself his shadows took over the responsibility of washing his hair.

When he finally pulled himself from the water a fresh warm towel was waiting for him with a stack of clean clothes. He paused mid drying off when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

His skin was dull and pale, dark bags under his eyes that looked nearly sunken in. A thick, scruffy beard covered his chin and jaw and his hair fell well past his ears, nearly resting on his shoulders. The majority of his muscle definition was gone and he looked…fragile. Like he could break so very easily. His wings drooped behind him and when he tried to tighten them it was painful.

“Fuck,” he breathed, shaking his head. He hadn’t realized how bad it had gotten, how much his health—mentally and physically had declined.

Azriel brushed his teeth then grabbed the scissors from the counter, grabbing chunks of the beard off and snipping them off. He left some facial hair, and half ass style the hair on his head—he refused to go in front of his family for the first time in months looking so unkempt.

The clothes were simple and he didn’t bother with shoes. He stood at the door of his bedroom for a moment. He didn’t remember the last time he left this room. The little he had eaten had come directly from the house or his shadows.

He pulled open the door and stepped out. There was no one in the halls but his shadows clung to him protectively. They hadn’t spoken at all, merely clung to him. He began down the hall, dreading the stairs knowing they would kill his legs but he had to do it. He had to.

He was moving slowly but he could sense his family in the dining room on the level below. He held the railing and as he finally reached the last stair he took a moment to compose himself. He could feel a thin sheen of sweat coating his skin from the effort it took to descend the steps. His thighs and calves burned. And he had to take a few breaths to calm his racing heart.

He wasn’t sure the last time he ever felt like this. All he knew is he didn’t want to keep feeling like this.

Taking another breath he nodded to himself, placing a hand on the door and pushing it up. He was silent and as he looked around the dining room he wasn’t sure how he felt, but they were there—everyone except Amren anyway.

“Azriel,” Mor gasps, her brown eyes widening as a range of emotion washed over her face.

Every eye in the room turned to him. He lifted his head, tucked his wings and squared his shoulders back. He would not falter. He would be strong. He could do this. So he walked over, he took his normal seat between Cassian and Rhys, still open and ready for him.

He hadn’t yet spoken a word before a plate of food appeared in front of him. Looking up he met the eyes of each person at the table, varying looks but not of pity, sadness or contempt. No all of those eyes, the eyes of his family held pride, love and respect.

So he reached out, grabbed his fork and began to eat.

Azriel spoke to no one and no one spoke to him. Their conversation continued and he felt lighter listening to their voices. When he got back to his room, he fell into bed and he cried. He cried until he fell asleep.

But when he woke up the next morning, he got out of bed and joined his family for breakfast one again.

[prythianpages]

one-shots

angst= ♥️ fluff = ☁︎ smut= ☪︎

↠ I've Been Waiting For You ☁︎ `♡´ | After centuries of waiting, Azriel finally meets the one he's been longing for. His mate. (this is kinda inspired by Alice & Jasper from twilight.) | bonus part

↠ Be Safe ☁︎ | you are on your way to Day Court when Azriel stops you. After the two of you fall victim to Cassian's and Mor's teasing, Azriel realizes why he can't just let you go.

↠ When I Kissed the Teacher ☁︎ | After crushing on Azriel for almost a year, Nesta dares you to kiss him during Valkyrie training.

↠ In My Eyes | Rhysand's Sister reader`♡´ | Azriel has lost you once and when unseen circumstances bring you back to life, he will not lose you again. Even if it means going against his family.

↠ 'Cause It Was Always You ☁︎ | After eavesdropping on multiple conversations, Azriel finally gathers the courage to confess his feelings to you, thinking he's on the verge of losing you.

series

↠ A Field of Dandelions | witch reader | Your High Lady calls upon you. requesting a remedy that only you know how to make. It requires specific ingredients found between the courts of spring and autumn and you're in need of an escort. Unfortunately for you, she assigns her Shadowsinger to accompany you. The Shadowsinger who hates you...or so you thought.

↠ A Court of Shadows & Moonlight | rhy's sister oc |  Daughter of the Night Court’s High Lord. Half Illyrian. Half High Fae. Rhysand’s little sister. A Dreamer. Only few know her as Valeria and only one knows her truth. She is the moon, a lonely girl cratered by imperfections, and he is her night, the one who helps her shine bright.

↠ Give 'Em Hell | beron's daughter oc | Beron Vanserra is a man with many sinful secrets but there is one that desires to punish him. His daughter. His true firstborn and heir to the Autumn Court.

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 26

Azriel x Reader Fic

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

Find other parts here: Master List

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

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

Word Count: 2.5K

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

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

When you turned to investigate your surroundings, you found yourself standing on a patio. The balcony walls held planter boxes on each railing, overlooking the city. On the wall, sprawling up past the two large glass French doors, was winter ivy that you presumed had been growing for hundreds of years to reach its current height. The planter boxes had not yet been tended to for the oncoming spring, but based on the care taken to preserve the boxes and the soil inside, whoever would plant in them seemed to care for their garden quite a bit.

Azriel took a few steps in front of you, laying his palms on the door handles before turning over his shoulder to you. “Coming?” he asked.

You nodded as he swung the doors open. A blast of warm air shot out from the room, and you stepped into what looked to be a large office. With its dark oak desk nestled against the wall, stacks of books littered the floor around two oversized armchairs. At least, that’s what you presumed the purpose of the room was. Azriel walked through the room without much thought as you followed behind, your eyes stopping on books with titles like *The Archaic Guide to Fae Languages* and *A Complete Atlas of Prythian and the Charted World*. The walls of the office were filled with large bookshelves, overflowing with papers and old texts. Azriel opened the door of the office, leading out into a hallway filled with paintings you recognized as Feyre’s, lining the dark green paint of the wall. You followed Azriel down the hall.

“This is the townhouse,” he announced.

“Feyre and Rhysand's city home?” you clarified.

“Technically, yes, but they gifted it to me when Nesta and Cassian mated.” Azriel turned around the corner, his hand passing over the wall as he did, seemingly a habit.

“Oh,” you said. “I thought you just lived at the House of Wind.”

“I used to. But I felt like I was intruding on their time together.”

Azriel continued down the second hallway, which led to a grand staircase spiraling down into what looked to be the main hallway of the home.

He took the stairs in a rush, his feet fast and sure as you ran your hand down the railing, descending into the grand foyer. The black-and-white tiles lined the floor, and the entryway door was adorned with stained glass flowers. Their blues and purples easily identified the Night Court florals in the scene.

Azriel’s heels clicked down onto the tile floor as he walked to the front door, opening it slightly before turning back to look at you descending the stairs. He smiled lightly.

“Ready?”

You nodded slightly as you joined him in the entryway.

“Remember, just say the word and we leave.”

You nodded again, feeling your stomach tighten as the door widened into one of the wealthier streets of Velaris. Azriel stepped out, holding the door open for you to follow.

The street was quiet for the most part, save for the odd fae or couple who strolled leisurely down the sidewalk. You noticed the wrought iron short fencing on most of the front lawns, and more importantly, you took in the front lawns of the houses. That feature seemed wholly foreign to you in this place. You had no memories of any buildings having attached greenery to their houses, other than those in the parks.

Azriel shut the door behind you, joining you at the top of the white marble stairs leading down to the walkway. “Ready?” he asked again.

You nodded, and he descended the stairs quickly as you followed slowly behind him.

You walked down the street next to one another, your arms only barely grazing each other's as you walked. You said nothing, and Azriel seemed fine with the silence. You merely followed Azriel down the street of the great townhouse manors and around the corners to a few more streets of them. You felt foolish for thinking that the townhouse of the High Lord would be anything less than the most spectacular, grandiose home possible. Yet, you had it in your mind that Rhysand and Azriel chose to spend their time in smaller apartments like the rest of the citizens. How silly you were.

The homes slowly grew smaller, then into split-level homes, then into apartments. The gardens in front grew less grand and then ceased to exist. The closer you got into the city heart, the more citizens you began seeing.

Watching the citizens part for Azriel, some wishing him well and saying hello while others seemed to bow their heads, piqued your interest. It seemed as though everyone was more than willing to part their path to let the Shadowsinger through, as a few whispered. Most seemed to have a deep admiration and respect, but you wondered if any of it was tinged with fear. Fear at his wings and what they stood for, or recognition of his relation to other Illyrians. Perhaps, however, these people believed the Illyrians to be some sort of savior. The army was their main source of protection, after all, and once you pieced together the war with Hybern, you knew they were instrumental in Prythian not falling into the wrong hands. But at the same time, you weren’t the only one who had experienced the malice of the soldiers. Right?

Azriel continued down the street as the faint scent of food—particularly pastries and warm meats—wafted through the crisp winter air. As you turned another corner, you recognized the main town square of food vendors, and your mouth began to water instinctively. The butchery windows displayed large, glistening sausages, their savory aroma mingling with the air. You passed by bakeries showcasing delicate cakes, their frosting artfully swirled and tempting, adding to the rich, sugary scent that lingered around them.

It wasn’t until you passed a candy shop that you realized how hungry you truly were. The sweet scents of sugar and caramel wafted out the door, causing you to pause and inhale deeply, the familiar aroma evoking memories of simpler times. You closed your eyes, transported back to childhood, standing on tiptoes to peer through a large glass window. You could almost see the candy makers tossing long ropes of taffy onto a hook, chopping the hardened pieces into small meltaway treats. The memory blurred, uncertain if it was your mother or Titania beside you, pointing at the candies and dreaming of which ones you might choose. This uncertainty tainted the nostalgia, leaving a heaviness in your heart as you opened your eyes again.

Azriel had stopped, now standing nearly touching you, his concern evident as he looked down. “You okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded, not trusting your voice.

“Just a few shops down, there’s a cafe I wanted to take you to for lunch.” He pointed down the street, your gaze lingering on the candy shop’s window. “But if you aren’t feeling up for it, we can head back,” he offered. “Or we could get something from here if you like?”

You shook your head, the memory of standing at the window enough. You had never actually gone inside to buy the candies, just dreamed about them from a distance. Perhaps you feared that reality might tarnish the sweetness of the memory. “It’s okay,” you said quietly. “We can keep going.”

Azriel placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his thumb tracing soothing lines down your shoulder blade. His touch broke the spell of your recollection, and you looked up to meet his eyes. He smiled at you, “You’re doing great.”

You tried to return the smile, but it felt forced and weak.

Azriel turned and continued down the sidewalk, and you followed, the savory and sweet aromas still lingering in the air. Eventually, you arrived at a small cafe. The exterior, with its blue awning and small tables lining the sidewalk, promised a cozy atmosphere in the summer, but today it was deserted. Azriel led you through the doors into the cafe, where a warm rush of air welcomed you, banishing the chill from your bones.

Inside, the cafe was larger than it appeared from the outside, with a full bar offering an array of cocktails. The floor was a mosaic of black and white tiles that matched the black wrought-iron tables with their white marble tops. Strings of faelight illuminated the dining area, casting a warm, golden glow that invited you in. Azriel surveyed the room, spotting an open table in a quiet corner, and beckoned you to follow.

He reached the table and pulled out a chair for you, waiting as you awkwardly shrugged off your coat, suddenly conscious of your stained dress and unkempt hair. As you sat, Azriel gently pushed your chair in before settling into his own seat across from you. The wrought-iron chairs easily accommodated his wings, which spread behind him like a protective shield. A waitress appeared swiftly, smiling warmly at Azriel, who returned the gesture as she handed you both menus.

You laid your menu flat on the table, eyes scanning the options: breakfast foods, hearty sandwiches, delectable pastries, soups, and salads. Azriel glanced at his menu briefly before setting it down with a satisfied nod. “I always get the same thing,” he said with a knowing grin.

You nodded absently, still deciding what might sit best in your uneasy stomach. Azriel looked over his shoulder at the window, watching pedestrians pass by. Some peered in, their eyes widening as they recognized the Illyrian who now sat casually, tea in hand, his leg draped over the other.

Eventually, you settled on a cream of potato soup, hoping its warmth would ease both your hunger and your nerves. Azriel ordered a sandwich, but your heart pounded so loudly in your ears that you couldn’t catch the details. You took deep, steadying breaths, willing yourself to hold it together in the cafe’s comforting ambiance.

The waitress returned to collect the menus, and Azriel handed his over with a smile. As he turned back to you, concern etched itself into his features. He leaned across the table, one hand covering yours, which were clenched tightly together. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You gulped and nodded, trying to reassure him.

“Just say the word,” he reminded you, his gaze unwavering.

You shook your head, your fingers loosening slightly.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, his arms crossed casually, his voice a mix of curiosity and concern.

You glanced up at him from under your lashes, licking your dry, cracked lips before shrugging your shoulders.

“There’s something,” he persisted, leaning in, his forearms braced on the table. “Your eyes are more expressive than you might think.”

You looked down at your hands, now resting in your lap, suddenly anxious about what Azriel might discern from your gaze.

“I’d pay a lot to know what’s going on up there.” Azriel motioned to your head with a slight tilt.

You chuckled softly, “I don’t think you’d like what you’d find.”

“Maybe not,” he admitted with a warm smile. “But I’d still love to know.”

His face was soft, his eyes inviting, almost pleading for a glimpse into your thoughts.

You shook your head lightly. “There’s a lot of darkness in there,” you murmured.

Azriel opened his hands, palms up, before closing them gently. “I’ve always thrived in darkness.”

“Yes, you and your shadows,” you replied flatly.

“So you’ve heard about them,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ve overheard things,” you admitted.

Azriel nodded. “You’re perceptive.”

You shrugged again.

“Do you want to know more about them?” Azriel asked, his tone inviting.

You considered for a moment, curiosity battling with weariness. “How do they work?” you asked finally.

Azriel glanced upwards, searching for the right words. “They’re like crows,” he began. “They gather information, bringing it back to me. Sometimes they help me stay hidden.”

“Do you control them?” you asked.

Azriel flicked his fingers, and two dark shadows materialized on the table, their form shifting as they scurried towards you, weaving through your fingers. Their cool touch sent a shiver down your spine, and a reluctant smile curved your lips.

“I can encourage them,” Azriel explained, watching as the shadows danced across the table and slipped back to his side. “But they have minds of their own.”

“Is it always the same ones?” you asked, watching the shadows disappear into the corners of the cafe.

“It’s usually a core group of twelve. Some come and go, but those twelve have been with me since I was a child.”

You nodded thoughtfully. “Can all shadows do that?”

Azriel looked around, observing the other shadows in the room. “No. They might look like shadows, but they’re different creatures. They resemble shadows and live in them, but they’re unique.”

You recalled moments in the woods when shadows seemed to move oddly, almost sentient. “Did you ever—” you began, but the waitress returned, setting your food down. Azriel thanked her quietly, motioning for you to eat.

You lifted your spoon, dipping it into the creamy soup. The first taste enveloped your tongue with warmth, soothing you like sinking into a cozy bed after a day in the snow. You continued to eat, savoring each spoonful, while Azriel watched with a soft smile, taking tentative bites of his sandwich.

When you finished, nearly licking the bowl clean, you set the spoon down with a clink. Your stomach, now filled with comforting warmth, left you momentarily content. But guilt soon crept in, a reminder that while you enjoyed this meal, Kai was gone. The joy turned sour, your stomach churning with the weight of your loss. You pushed the bowl away, contemplating whether the guilt would make you sick. Azriel, sensing the shift, reached across the table to cover your hand. “I’m really glad to see you eating,” he said softly.

You tried to smile back at him, the gesture tight and unconvincing. But Azriel’s eyes held understanding, seeing through the facade to the turmoil beneath.

Azriel seemed to finish eating only moments before you did, and he promptly signaled the waitress over. She collected the dishes and, with a bright smile, insisted that Azriel not pay for the meal. A playful argument ensued between them, Azriel’s lips quirking into a bemused smile as he raised his hands in mock defeat. The waitress walked away, still smiling, but as soon as her back was turned, Azriel stood up and discreetly left more than enough coins on the table. 

He turned to you, his eyes softening with a gentle warmth, and helped you into your jacket. His touch was tender as he carefully pulled your hair out from the collar, his scarred fingers grazing the soft skin of your neck. His touch lingered there, light and reassuring, sending a faint shiver through you.

Once you were settled, he motioned towards the door, his voice a soothing balm against the winter’s chill. “I think that’s enough for one day,” he said softly. “Let’s head home.”

To my readers, thank you for all your support. More to come soon. @thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @romantacyreader28 @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @405rry @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterra @skylarkalchemist @darling006 @rhysandorian @loglady00

[bldhrry]

A Court of Passion and Daydream

Chapter Eight | Who's Afraid of Little Old Me? Azriel x OC!Reader Masterlist

word count: 8.7k

warnings: cursing, blood, violence, attempted sa

author's note: kind of a filler chapter that explores Celestia's background, but it does shed Some light on the situation between her and Azriel. sorry if anyone finds it boring; i like to make sure my writing has sustenance and it's not just action all the time if that makes sense. i promise the rest will be more focused on moving the plot along. thanks so much for the likes, reblogs, and comments! lmk what you think :)

The next morning, Cassian, Celestia, Azriel, and Rhysand met Devlon and his seconds at the House of Wind.  Celestia and Azriel kept their distance from not only Devlon and the other Illyrians but also from each other.  Cassian and Rhysand greeted the Camp Commander with tense hand shakes as they led them to the balcony to watch the trials.

Cassian, Celestia, Azriel, and Rhysand made their way to the ring, walking down the spiral stone steps.  Cassian and Rhysand acted as a buffer between the other two and let Celestia lead the way and Azriel and his shadows trailing behind them.  He wished he was in the front.  Every second they spent in the tiny, dark staircase was agonizing.  He kept watching as she stepped down, her hand on the railing letting it drag and feel the cool stone’s ridges and cuts.  Her scent was overwhelming and he wanted nothing more than to lay at her feet and confess his feelings and the truth of the bond and beg her to come back to him.  He did none of that though.  Instead he just took what he could: memorizing her backside, scent, and the way that she walked.

The trio made it to the ring to see Nesta, Emorie, and Gwyn already stretching.  Cassian made his way to the group, instructing them on how the trial would go and what exactly it was for and what it would mean if they won.

“The most important thing to know when trying to beat this is that you have to work together,” he emphasized.  The trio of females nodded.

Azriel and Celestia and Rhysand watched from the outskirts of the ring letting the General handle it; they all figured it would be best given the company they had upstairs.

“I don’t think they will take us that seriously if the Lieutenant General, who is a female, is leading the trial and not the General; we need to show force and keep to the ranks.”  Rhysand had said hours prior.  Celestia just rolled her eyes.

The trials began and Nesta, Emorie, and Gwyn breezed through the first quarter and then began to struggle.  Celestia glanced up at Devlon and he had a smirked spread across his lips and she growled.  Fucking asshole.

The females recovered, seeming to remember Cassian’s one and only advice.  It took them an hour and a half, but they completed the trial with a whoop and a group hug.  Now it was Celestia who smirked and Devlon who growled.  As she watched the Commander, he leaned towards his seconds and they began to whisper and nod their heads.  They were too far for Celestia to hear what they were saying, so she broke her one moral code: she entered Devlon’s mind and listened in to the conversation.

“They completed the trials which means they’re qualified for the Blood Rite.”  Devlon said.

“They’re not Illyrians,” said the short, stocky soldier.

“Who gives a shit?  Someone needs to show Rhysand he can’t fuck with our lifestyle.  We put these females in and they die, which they will, he’ll stop with the whole ‘females need to train’ bullshit.”  Now it was the leaner, fair haired soldier who spoke.

“They’re going to put them in the Blood Rite!”  Celestia screamed.  Nobody was listening to her and she was growing more frustrated as the minutes passed.

“No, they are not,” Cassian growled.  “I told you; this was just to piss them off.”

“I saw it.  I heard him say it.  They are going to do it.”

“What do you mean you saw it?”  Rhysand crossed his arms.

“I looked.”  Celestia raised her head with pride.  “You don’t get to show these bastards that females are as capable as them and for them to not want to ruin that and show how much stronger they are.  I’m sorry you three are blind to the true nature of males, but I am not.”  All three males flinched.

“They are going to throw them in there like they did me and who knows what they’ll do to them.”  She let out a deep breath and looked at the ceiling.

She turned and looked at Cassian.  “They fear Nesta and they’ll crush her by any means necessary.  Trust me, I know.”  

Cassian had a troubled look in his eyes and he sat on Rhysand’s desk, gripping the edge until his knuckles turned white.  “We can’t do anything if they put them in the Rite.”

Everyone nodded their heads.

“They’ll kill us all if we try to stop them.”

Everyone nodded their heads again.

“So, what do we do?”  Rhysand asked.

“We prepare them.  Train more and make it more aggressive.”  Celestia had her arms crossed and started to pace the room.  She hadn’t noticed how close she had gotten to Azriel until she was in front of him and his presence wrapped around her.  She stopped and her wings twitched and flexed, spreading out just an inch.  She rolled her head and kept walking.

“If I did it and won by myself, then they can do it with the three of them together.  We need to show them my Blood Rite.”  She looked up at everyone, a determined look set in her violet eyes.

They had been able to coax Gwyn to leave the library and come to the Manor with the promise that nobody but Celestia, Azriel, Cassian, Rhysand, Feyre, Nesta, and Emorie were there.  It also helped that Nesta promised to have another sleepover.

Celestia didn’t like Gwyn for obvious reasons.  Her need to be around Azriel made her have to continuously roll and crack her neck to relieve the tension building in her neck and shoulders.  But she wasn’t about to let her die.

“How are we going to see her Blood Rite?”  Emorie asked, accepting a cup of tea.

“We’re all going to hold hands and I’ll send it to your minds,” Celestia explained through a mouthful of cheese; it was the only thing that she found would stay down when she was around Azriel.

Azriel stood at the back of the room, next to the doorway with his hands in his pockets.  He surveyed the room but never let Celestia out of his sight.  She wore an oversized sweater and leggings with her house shoes and she sat crisscrossed on an armchair, a plate of cheese in her lap.  She looked relaxed and comfortable to the naked eye, but he noticed her rigid posture and the way her hands trembled slightly.

“You’re a daemati, right?”  Gwyn spoke up and a flash of annoyance crossed Celestia’s face but it quickly went away and she nodded.

She plopped another cube of cheese in her mouth and smirked.  “Don’t piss me off and I won’t peek in that head of your’s.”

Gwyn’s face paled and Rhysand sucked at his teeth.  “Celestia,” he warned.

“I’m kidding!”  She raised her hands in self defense.  “I don’t do that…” she trailed off, “sometimes.”

“But that’s how you figured out Devlon’s plan.”  Nesta now spoke, a glass of cider in her hands and Cassian behind her, his hands secured on her shoulders.

“Yes.  It’s invasive so I try not to, but I knew he was planning something.  He’s a fucking dick and the last thing that needed to happen is you guys going in there unprepared.  I grew up Illyrian so I had an idea of what I was facing but you guys, minus Emorie,” she gestured to the females, “don’t.”

Everyone nodded and Azriel crossed his arms.  The movement made Celestia look up at him and he froze.  Her gaze gingerly looked him over and he felt exposed under her violet stare.  Her eyes were lighter than Rhysand’s, but he hadn’t seen their shine since the day he left her.  Guilt forced his eyes to break away from her’s.

She felt defeated as he looked at the floor, moving the threads of the rug around with his shoe.  She sighed and cleared her throat.  “Alright,” she clapped her hands, “shall we begin?”

Everyone pulled up their chairs and linked hands.  With a nod to everyone in the circle, Celestia let out a breath and slumped into the chair, her mind branching out to everyone, allowing them access to the memory of the Blood Rite.

Her mother had gone to Velaris to visit her mate, Rhysand’s father.  The four were sound asleep in their respective rooms; Celestia in the room she shared with her mother, Rhysand in his own room, and Cassian and Azriel in their shared room.  She had completed the Blood Rite trials months prior, but was informed because she was a female, she would not be allowed to participate.

“You’re lucky we even let you do this in the first place, girl.”  The Camp Commander at the time sneered.  She felt defeated, but Rhysand had said it was for the best; she would remain safe and she had the knowledge that she was just as good, maybe even a better fighter, than her Illyrian counterparts.

The night before the Rite, she was dead asleep in her bed when the sound of a thud woke her up.  She groggily opened her eyes and looked around her dark room.  As she looked to her right, she saw a dark figure in the shape of a male, frozen in place leaning over the bed with something in his hands.

She let out a scream and jumped out of the bed, dodging the figure as he lunged for her.  She bolted through the bedroom door and made her way downstairs; despite her mother being an Illyrian, she never allowed weapons in the room, keeping them in a closet near the front door.  That’s where she needed to go.

She heard a crash and the figure, no, a male, came out of the room and tried to grab her but she jumped over the last few steps and rolled, bouncing to her feet.  She turned to go to the closet, when hands grabbed her and she screamed, thrashing and jabbing her elbow in the face of whoever held her.  They stumbled backwards and yelled out.  It was Cassian.

“What the fuck?”  He growled and held his nose.

“There’s somebody in the house; he’s trying to get me.”  As she explained, the male bounded down the stairs and halted, eyeing her and Cassian.  By then Rhysand and Azriel had rushed out of their rooms, weapons in hand, with only their sleeping shorts on.  

For a few moments, everyone eyed each other, crouching slightly in anticipation gauging who was going to strike first.  It was Azriel.  

Before anyone could process what was happening, he darted to the assailant and tackled him.  Celestia made a break for the closet, swinging it open and grabbing her dagger.  She turned around to see Rhysand and Cassian moving towards Azriel who, to her shock, was raining punches down on the male.  The male held his ground as he fought back, punching him so hard everyone heard a crack and Azriel stumbled, letting the male overtake him.

It was no use because Cassian and Rhysand pulled him off of Azriel and pinned him to the floor.  She tossed Rhysand her dagger and he held it to his throat.

“What do you-” he stopped and studied the face that lay underneath him.  He knew him.  He was one of the seconds for the Camp Commander and he had participated in the Blood Rite with Rhysand.  Realization washed over Rhysand's face and he looked at Celestia in shock.

The door swung open and a male, bigger than the one laying on the floor and the Camp Commander walked in.  “Enough with the theatrics, boy.  Let him go.”  The Commander said and Rhysand did just that

The bigger male that walked in with the Commander made his way towards Celestia and even though she fought and tried to get away, he locked her arms behind her back, preventing her from moving.

“You said she couldn’t do it,” Rhysand snarled.  Azriel and Cassian moved behind Rhysand, flanking his sides.

“We changed our minds.”  The Commander said casually.  “I didn’t think it was fair to exclude someone who clearly beat the trial fair and square, female or male.”  He shrugged.

“You piece of shit,”  Cassian said through gritted teeth.

The Commander simply put his hand up.  “I’m done with this.  You’re lucky I’m feeling merciful tonight and not going to kill you three for intervening.”

“We didn’t know.”  Azriel panting.  His face was lopsided and it looked like his jaw was broken and he looked at her with an exasperated look in his eyes.

“I know,” he said plainly, “which is why I’m letting it slide this one time.”

She had begun to cry.  She was going to the Rite completely unprepared.  She had no shoes and was wearing shorts and a shirt.

“At least let her dress properly.”  Azriel pleaded, gesturing to her current state.  “She wasn’t allowed the time to get ready.”

Rhysand shot him a look of pure warning.

“Fair enough.  One of you, go and grab her something, but after that we’re taking her.”

Rhysand nodded and headed towards the stairs.  He took his time going up, gripping the railing.  As he looked through her wardrobe, he fought back tears.  She was going to be killed and if she wasn’t immediately killed…he didn’t want to think about it.  He grabbed her a sweater, a thermal long sleeve, boots, a hat, and thermal leggings.

The entire time he was gone, Celestia kept looking between Azriel and Cassian, begging for them to do something but they didn’t.  Instead Cassian looked at her with pity and Azriel looked at her with rage.  He wasn’t mad at her, no, he was mad at the males standing in front of him for taking her away.

Rhysand came back and the male holding Celestia pushed her forward and she silently took the clothes and went into the bathroom to change.  None of the males spoke when she was gone, simply exchanging threatening looks. 

She found a sense of confidence as she looked in the mirror and dressed.  She was powerful and a good fighter, beating every male that challenged her.  The camp feared her when she walked through the camp with her fighting leathers on and sword strapped down the middle of her back.  She will do this and she will win.  

She exited the bathroom, her head high.  She nodded to her brother, Cassian, and Azriel and they nodded back understanding her nonverbal farewell.  She walked back to the male that had restrained her and looked him in the eyes.  He seemed to cower slightly under her stare.

He placed a cloth over her nose and mouth and she collapsed.

DAY ONE

She woke up wet.  Confused, she opened her eyes and saw white all around her.  Snow.  There were bodies around, all winged males.  Illyrians.

She was in the Blood Rite.  The memories from the previous night came flooding back to her and she shakily got up, trying not to make any noise, but the snow crunching under her feet started to rouse the soon to be warriors.  Before she could be noticed, she started running away, towards Ramiel.

She headed towards the thick forest to her side.  She knew everyone else would start heading towards the mountain, but if she stayed behind then she could trail after everyone, hopefully unnoticed.  She scaled a tree and sat on the highest branch that could support her weight and looked towards the mountain.  They had been placed far and she couldn’t imagine reaching it in a week; it looked like it would take a month especially in the current weather conditions.  She could see a mass of bodies spread out in the fields and trees below her and her stomach churned wondering how she was going to win this undetected.  She knew she wouldn’t, but one can hope.

As night fell, she climbed down and keeping the mountain to her left, began walking, gripping the makeshift bow she had made tightly.  She knew fae monsters would be lurking the woods but she would gladly take them on than a male so she kept her eyes peeled and ears alert for growls and footsteps.  Thankfully, she heard none.

A few hours passed, and she found a small cave.  After scouting for anybody inside or around, she made her way in, covering her tracks and the entrance with sticks, leaves, and moss.  She lit a fire and cooked the rabbit she had gotten.  Silently she ate and cried; she didn’t want to die.  After she ate, she put the fire out and covered the embers and ashes with dirt.  Then, facing the entrance of the cave with a wooden knife, she fell asleep.

DAY TWO

She woke the next morning with the sun hitting her face through the gaps of the entrance.  She rubbed her eyes and sat up, studying the position of the sun; it was early morning.  She gathered her supplies and continued on her way to the mountain.

She didn’t see anyone and she began to grow suspicious.  There was no way they had all gotten ahead of her.  There were hundreds of males in these woods and not a single soul was around.  Yet, she kept going, stopping every new and then to stop by a stream to drink.  Night came again and with no cave in sight, she climbed a tree and sat there, looking up at the sky.

The constellations were gleaming brightly and she named each one in her mind as she looked up.  The sky was so wide and never ending and it made her feel so small.  She thought about her mother and the way she also loved the skies.  She believed that it would tell you things if you looked close enough.  She was superstitious in that sense; she claims she knew she was pregnant before the healer because she saw the shape of a hand and belly in the sky.  That’s when she decided to name her Celestia if she was a female.  A tear fell at the thought, the fact told to her throughout her childhood; a constant reminder that she was loved dearly by her mother despite what she had done.

She fell asleep to the thought of her mother and if she was cheering her on from where she rested.

DAY THREE

Morning came and the sun didn’t wake her, but voices did.  She peeked down and could see a group of males, seven of them, were speaking in hushed, but excited voices, boasting about the males they had killed thus far.

“My father said they put Rhysand’s sister in here.  Stupid bitch thought she could show off and we wouldn’t teach her a lesson.”  She leaned over the branch and could see the one speaking.  It was the Camp Commander’s son, Stanis.

The males around him were other Lord’s sons.  She knew them all; they were cruel and brutal in the ring and made it a point to challenge her and beat her down every chance they got.  As she got stronger and better they became more aggressive.

“You think we’ll catch her?”  Another male spoke, this time it was Burke, another Lord’s son.

“She can’t hide for long.  Everyone is going to be looking for her.  She has nowhere to hide.”  Stanis replied.

“We’ll kill her?”  A soft, high pitched voice asked.  She looked at him and recognized him as the butcher’s son.  His name was Tym.  He was only 14.

“Fuck no,” smirked Stanis and the group laughed.  Tym’s face went as white as the snow.

Celestia leaned back into the tree and stared ahead.  She needed to get out of here.

She waited until the group had left and she couldn’t hear their wretched voices, or laughter, or footsteps before she climbed down the tree.  She looked around and sensing no one, she went West towards the side of the mountain.

By the time nightfall came, she was too exhausted to find a cave, so she scaled a tree and passed out.

DAY FOUR

She marched on the next morning with no incident and no sign of the group from earlier.  Night fell once more and she sighed in relief when she found a cave and without thinking, from pure exhaustion, she entered.

“Don’t move,” said a deep voice.  She held her hands up and looked around the cave.  She couldn’t see the person.

“Who are you?”  The voice echoed through the round cave and she cringed and looked behind her.  She hoped nobody could hear.

“Celestia,” she said quietly.  

The person hummed and she could hear him move.  He was to her right.  As his footsteps got closer, she edged towards her left, keeping the wall behind her.

The male stood in front of the entrance and the moonlight washed over his face, revealing his features.  It was Kristoff, the welder’s son.  She relaxed; he was kind and the only person who tolerated her in the ring.  She couldn’t say he wouldn’t kill her right now, but she could say that he would hesitate before he did it.

“I was just looking for a place to camp for the night.  I’ll leave and if anyone asks if I saw you I won’t say a word.”  She earnestly promised.

He pondered for a moment, glancing outside and looking up at the sky,

“You won’t kill me and steal my stuff?”  He looked at her.

“No.  Will you?”

“No.”

She reached out her hand and he took it, giving her a firm shake.

They decided not to light a fire.  They were closer to the mountain now and there were going to be more Illyrians than before.  They talked about what they had seen so far.  He was placed with the majority of the fighters and everyone woke up at the same time and a bloodbath ensued.  He was able to get away, hiding in the bushes outside of the clearing.  Since then he found body after body and it only got worse as the days passed.  She told him she hadn’t seen or heard anyone since yesterday morning.  He shook his head when she told him of what Stanis had said.

“I’m not surprised.  He’s had it out for you since day one.  Even when you started you were still better than him.  That and he’s just a pig.”  Stanis chuckled and Celestia couldn’t help but laugh through her nose.

They slept on other ends of the cave that night, both holding their daggers to their chest.  Just in case.

She woke up, but kept her eyes closed.  Through her eyelids, she could tell it was still dark out, but she felt a dark presence looming over her.  Behind her, she could hear gurgling and she shot up and turned around.  Someone was crouching over Kristoff and she caught the gleam of a knife, a real knife.  Clutching her wooden dagger, she pounced on whoever it was and he let out a startled scream that was cut short as she dug the knife into the side of his neck.  He continued to grab at her arms that were around his shoulders, but she didn’t let go of her grip, deciding to push the blade deeper.  As he started to fall backwards, she leaped off and stepped to the side, letting the body hit the ground.  It was Burke.

She heard the gurgling sound again and rushed to Kristoff.  His throat had been slashed open and he was bleeding out.  She covered his neck with her hands, eyes brimming with tears.

“No, no, no,” she cried.  She tried keeping pressure, but the more pressure she placed, the more he couldn’t breathe.  She couldn’t save him, he was going to die.

“I’m so sorry,” she said over and over and he just looked at her.  He reached his free hand up and she let go of his throat and wrapped her hands around his, kissing his knuckles,

He looked at her, blood spilling out his mouth and she sobbed.  It wasn’t long after that he stopped choking on his blood and his head rolled to the side, eyes wide open.

She sat next to him, staring at him, then the blood on his body, and then the blood on her hands.

She got up and started to gather both of their belongings, apologizing to his dead body for taking his things.  She was focused on putting the supplies together and processing Burke’s attack and Kristoff’s death that she didn’t hear the footsteps approaching the entrance of the cave or the person that grabbed her and slammed her head into the wall.  The only thing she saw was darkness

She was being dragged.  She could feel her arms on either side of her head and the snow coating the back of her sweater.  It was smooth as she glided on top of the ground and when she opened her eyes she saw she was surrounded by trees and two males were holding her ankles as they walked forward.  In the distance she could see a fire and smoke flowing to the sky and unintelligible voices.  She closed her eyes and darkness took her once more.

She roused again to voices; they were closer and louder now and some were laughing.  She was on her stomach, her head to the side and her face burned.  She moaned and tried lifting it, but it felt heavy and she plopped it back down.  It was snow that was making her face burn; frostbite was getting to her.

The voices stopped as she tried to move around and a few announced that she had “finally” woken up.  Someone shushed them and they walked to her, kicking her side and rolling her over.  She whined in protest.  Her head was throbbing.

“About time you woke up sweetheart.”  It was Stanis.

They were in a small clearing, surrounded by forest and a few boulders that the males were using as seats.  They set her up against the trunk of a tree and tied her hands behind her with rope.  Real rope.  The males looked at her with wonder, like they had never seen a female before.

Probably haven’t even touched one either, Celestia thought.

Then the beating began.  Sat on the ground and bound, Celestia had no choice but to accept every kick Stanis threw at her; her stomach, chest, and face were plummeted by his boots and she began to cry.  The males around her encouraged his crusade of violence, saying that she deserved it and someone needed to teach her a lesson, that she was a female and would never have a place in the legion.  This was all things she heard before and it just pissed her off.  Soon after she didn’t even feel the kicks and she began to focus on the rope around her hands.  The knot was done poorly and she started to move her wrist around, making the knot unstable and loose

Stanis took a break, his chest heaving with the exertion.  With a grin he kicked snow in her face and she relished in the coolness.  Her face and head were so hot.

With the knot unstable, she silently worked on getting her hands free.  She played asleep, as the males drank and ate.  These motherfuckers had ale.  She was growing more angry.  They were hunting her, they killed her friend, they had beaten her, and they were cheating.  And for what?  For being female and daring to be part of her people?  She didn’t want to be like the other females in the camp who did chores all day, watching the festivities from their windows.  She wanted to be a fighter; she wanted to be important.

The more angry she got, the heavier her breathing became until the males noticed.

“I think she wants more,” one of the males said, laughing.

Stanis laughed and he got up and made his way over, standing in front of her.  He crouched and leaned close to her, his breath, stinking with ale, fanning her face.  

He put his mouth next to her ear, brushing it with his lips and smiled.  “You think that big bastard Cassian can fuck you good?  I’m going to show you a real good time.”

She rolled her eyes; again with the Cassian allegations.

And that’s when she bit his ear off.

Stanis screeched as she latched onto his ear.  He fell backwards and she went with him until the bottom of his ear detached and it was dangling in her mouth.  She chuckled and spit it out, leaping on top of him, punching him over and over.  She was reaching for the second wooden dagger she had in her pants when she was picked up and carried over to one of the boulders.

“Let me go!  Get the fuck off of me!”  She screamed and kicked at the two males holding her.  She spit Stanis’ blood onto them and they flinched, flinging her against the boulder.

Stanis was still screaming, clutching the side of his head looking at Celestia in horror.  All she did was give him a bloody grin.

The two males that had dragged Celestia away still stood next to her, holding her arms so she laid flat against the front of the rock.  Some of the males went to help Stanis, covering his ear with snow and bandages.  The rest sat in shocked silence, wide eyes moving between Stanis and Celestia.

After a few minutes, Stanis pushed the males surrounding him away and stalked towards her.  He slapped her and when she started to laugh he slapped her again and again and again.  She could barely feel it, she was laughing too hard.

“You fucking bitch,” he snarled, grabbing her by the throat and pulling her towards him.  

Her only response was to spit blood in his face.

That set him off.  With a look to the males standing on either side of her they let her go and he spun her around, pushing her into the rock.  She collided with it, her feet giving way under her.

“Grab her,” he commanded.

With their arms, they held her arms and shoulders down.  She struggled against them, throwing insults and threats to everyone around, but the sound of a belt unbuckling made her stop and the realization set in.

She looked over her shoulder and Stanis had his belt hanging loose and the buttons of his pants undone; she looked up at him, terror in her eyes and he just smirked.

He placed his forearm on the small of her back and with his other hand he jutted her hips out.  Celestia started to scream in protest, the sound echoing through the trees making birds caw and fly away.

“Please,” she begged.  Tears, blood and snot were covering her face and she began to hyperventilate.  She couldn't move and she felt pressure on every inch of her body; she was trapped and had nowhere to go.  He was going to defile her and she had no chance of escaping.

But still, she writhed in their grasps, screaming, pleading, and begging.

“I’ll do anything.  Please don’t do this.  I’m begging you.”  She kept crying and for some reason she thought about Azriel. 

The day she completed the trial he had pulled her to the side, his scarred hands were warm against her sweaty, wet face.

“If you get sent to the Rite,” he began, “horrible things might happen to you.”  He held her face tighter and his hazel eyes were ablaze with something she couldn’t name.  “But, that doesn’t diminish you.  You have done great things and will do great things.  Whatever happens to you does not define you.”  He let go of her face and kept looking at her, his expression unreadable.  

She just nodded, lost in his eyes.

The cold air against her bare ass shocked her and she came back to reality.  Stanis had been able to pull her pants down slightly but as he began to lower them more, she kicked backwards hitting his shin.  He yelped and grabbed her hair, yanking her head backwards.

“I’ve always wanted to do this, but you’ve always had your dogs around you.  Tell me sweetheart: what do you do in that house alone with all those males?  How many ways and times have they taken you?”  He purred in her ear.  He had his face next to her temple and she was able to swing her head to the side, slamming into his head.  

He howled in pain and held his head in his hands.  But before he could continue his assault, something plucked the male on her right up in the air and he was thrown across their makeshift camp, into a tree.  His back collided with a crack and when he fell to the ground he didn’t get up.

Everyone began screaming as the offender made themselves known, jumping from the top of the boulder.  It was a Suriel.

The Suriel went for the male on the left next who hadn’t moved and with a swipe of its bony hand, his entire neck fell out.  The male had no time to react.  Stanis was the first to run, but the Suriel ignored him, aiming for the rest of the group to its left.  The Suriel moved quickly, almost like it was winnowing to male to male, slashing throats and guts until none remained standing.

At this point Celestia had gotten dressed again and was cowering against the boulder.  She couldn’t run or hide; the Suriel would get her no matter what.  In a brave attempt, Celestia, with shaky hands, grabbed her belongings near the tree she woke up by and sneaked her way in the opposite direction of the Suriel, avoiding all the dead bodies.  The only one she looked at was Tym; the poor boy.

Before she could exit the clearing, she heard footsteps behind her.  Accepting her fate she turned around and was face to face with the Suriel.  She lifted her eyes to the Suriel whose bony teeth were now upturned into a smile.  It nodded its head.

Celestia nodded back in appreciation.  It had saved her life and was now letting her go.  With a deep breath she turned around towards Ramiel.

“Girl,” the Suriel called out to her, its voice raspy.  

Celestia stopped and turned around slowly.

“Listen to the shadows and hear their songs.  They will sing for you for the rest of your life.”  And then the Suriel vanished.

DAY FIVE

She ran through the night, only stopping once to eat and sleep.  She refused to think about what had happened and what could still happen.  She was lucky to be alive and she couldn’t even wrap her head around what the Suriel had done.  She didn’t even know they were capable of that.  The only thing she thought about was what it had said to her: listen to the shadows and hear their songs.  They will sing for you for the rest of your life.  She wasn’t sure what it meant.  She had shadows, but only when her powers weren’t suppressed.  Did the Suriel want her to express her powers all the time?  Did she have other powers she wasn’t aware of?  

She shook the questions away.  If she didn’t stop thinking she would be stuck here forever or get the courage to trap it and ask what it meant.  No, she couldn’t do that.  She needed to reach the peak so she could go home.

Night became day and she continued towards the Pass.  It was around three o’clock when she saw the bridge that connected the forest to Ramiel.  She sighed in relief, leaning her head up to the sky; thank the gods.

The unfortunate part of the bridge was its location.  There were no trees or brush to cover its location, so if she were to make her way to it she would be out in the open.  It was early afternoon which meant that the warriors had already been making their way to the mountain and most had to be close or already on it.  The Pass was the least taken route for it was difficult to climb and had no real, established path upwards.  Cassian, Azriel, and Rhysand had taken it and told her the best way to climb it.  She gripped her bow and set for the bridge.

She walked as quietly as she could, keeping her head on a swivel checking in all directions for enemies.  Even though she saw none, she was still cautious.  Her encounter with Stanis and his group were enough to never feel safe in these woods again and maybe even for the rest of her life.

No, she shook the thought away.  Azriel said it wouldn’t define her so she wasn’t going to let it.  It was a thing that happened and it was something that she survived.  She was going to win and she was going to be fine.

She reached the bridge and looked behind her at the treeline, scanning for movement.  Seeing none she turned back around and gingerly placed her foot on the bridge; it held.  So, she walked, holding both rails.  She was halfway across the bridge when an arrow whizzed past her head.  She ducked, hitting the bridge and she could hear shouting behind her.  She turned her head and saw Stanis and three males; they must’ve survived the attack.  

She scrambled up and started running across the bridge, still holding on to the rails as the bridge swayed back and forth.  Their voices were getting closer and more arrows were flying at her, but she kept running.  If she stopped, then it would be over.

She had gotten to the other side when she got hit.  She screamed as she fell forward, hitting the rocky ground.  It was embedded in her shoulder.  She got up and sat on her knees, peering behind her.  It was jutting out and blood was beginning to trickle down her back and when she tried lifting her arm but it stung so bad she dropped it immediately.  She looked at the males and they had stopped at the other side of the bridge and were watching her, grinning evilly.  They were enjoying this.  

She grunted as she snapped the bow, alleviating some of the pressure and got up.  Giving them a vulgar gesture, she started up the mountain.  

She knew they were following her and it scared her, but she didn’t stop.  There were four of them and one of her, so the odds weren’t really in her favor but she couldn't think about it.  The only advantage she had on her side was her size, but at the same time that was her biggest disadvantage.  Again, she didn’t think about it.  She was smaller than them and was a better climber, probably.  

When she couldn't hear them anymore, she wedged herself into the side of the mountain and took a deep breath, leaning her head against the rock.  She closed her eyes and swallowed.  She let herself sit there for a minute, gathering her thoughts, feelings, and strength.  She looked at her wound and blood was oozing out, but it was slow; that was good.  She had time to reach the peak and go home without the risk of losing too much blood or getting an infection; she hoped at least.

She got up and resumed her expedition.  The sun was starting to set and the wind on the mountain was picking up, bringing cold and snow.  She had begun to slow down, exhaustion starting to take over.  Her eyes were heavy and she kept stumbling, but she didn’t stop.  She couldn’t stop, really.  The four males weren’t far behind her; every now and then she could hear one of them laugh or groan at the exertion.  If she stopped to rest they would surely find her and finish what Stanis had started.  She shuddered at the thought.

Night fell and she could barely see.  The sky was covered with big, thick clouds and she could barely see the moon.  She stopped and closed her eyes, listening.  She heard nothing, not even the crunch of snow or rocks being shifted, just the wind blowing around her face.  Despite the cold, she was hot, sweating dripping down her face, sticking her thermal long sleeve to her back.  It was then she made the decision to camp for the night.

DAY SIX

She woke again to the sun on her face.  This time it was just peeking over the horizon and she was grateful she woke up early.  She hoped the fools down below would sleep in.  But she would be wrong.

A few hours later she could hear murmurs and pants and she silently cursed, turning around.  A couple hundred feet away were Stanis and his puppets trying to figure out how to scale the small mountain wall that led to where she was.  She became frantic; they must’ve walked through the night while she was asleep.  She silently cursed herself again.  She should've kept walking.  She would’ve made it to the Pass by now and a few more hours would be the summit and onyx monolith: her ticket home.  She began to jog, careful to avoid rocks and boulders hidden under the snow.  They heard her footsteps and Stanis called out to her, promising to make her pay for what she did to his men.

She didn’t care if they could hear her.  She just needed to get to the Pass.  

Her jog came to a stop when she was faced with a mountain wall.  She groaned and looked up; it was at least 50 feet tall.  She turned around at the sound of feet stomping and saw the heads of the males as they made their way up the slope.  She had no time to lose.

Moving her weapons around, she grabbed onto a ledge and then found her footing on another and started her climb.  The ledges were small and brittle and she kept slipping and almost falling.  Her nails were cracked and her hands were bleeding, but luckily she was halfway up the wall.  The unlucky part was that the males had caught up to her and were beginning their ascendant.  They kept calling out to her, throwing insults and threats like before, but she ignored them, keeping her focus on finding the right rock to grab.

One of the males was a better climber and as she neared the top he reached up and grabbed her ankle in an attempt to yank her down.  She screeched and kicked him, trying to shake him off.  He held on and continued trying to get her to slip her grip on the rock.  She refused.  She was fed up being hunted by these bloodthirsty idiots.  With a swift kick, she hit him in his nose.  He cursed and grabbed his nose, but the blood coating his hand loosened his grip and he fell.  He fell 40 feet down, past Stanis and the remaining two males and hit a jagged rock.  Celestia cringed, but kept moving.

She reached the top and whooped, pulling herself over.  She laid in the snow for a moment, catching her breath and crying.  She was so fucking tired.  She rolled over and peered over the edge; Stanis and the three males were at least 15 feet away.  She checked her arrow supply and found she only had one, so she knocked it into her bow and sat up on her knees, leaning over the edge.

She called out and the closest male looked up and caught an arrow in the eye.  He fell 35 feet down.  

Stanis and the remaining male roared in anger and began to climb faster.  Celestia’s only response was to laugh.

She never liked killing like the other males in training, but she was saving her life.  It needed to be done.  She would grieve and reflect on her sins later.

It was late afternoon at this point and the sun was beginning to set.  She only had a few more hours to reach the peak.  She was so close.

As she kept going, she faced no more climbing adventures and she was glad for it.  The gap between Stanis and the other male was close but she tried not to let it bother her.  She was ahead and that was all that mattered.

By the time she reached the Pass the sun had set and it had begun to snow.  Her hands were numb and they were beginning to burn with frostbite.  She turned around and the males were still at her heels.  

If the sun had just set, she thought, then that would make it around 6 o’clock which means I have 6 more hours to reach the summit.  If I move fast with nobody following me I could make it in 5.

So, she pulled out her wooden dagger, and waited for Stanis and his friend.

They arrived in thirty minutes which meant Celestia had thirty minutes to kill them both and make it to the summit.

They looked winded when they saw her.  She had time to relax and set her mind to what she wanted to do, but they were surprised to see her, waiting like a predator.  

“Hello boys.”  She smiled, waving her dagger.

They exchanged a look and then they attacked her.

She knew they would be hot headed.  She either killed their friends or had them killed, so when they attacked she easily stepped to the side and took the male she didn’t know by the arm and threw him against a boulder.  He yelled in pain but dropped to the floor.  She moved quickly to push the knife into his throat  Then, she turned to face Stanis who held his metal dagger in his hand.

“You didn't think I’d come prepared did you?”  He said to her surprised expression at seeing a real weapon.

“I always knew you were a fucking cheat.”  Then she went for him.  They fought in tandem using their dagger and fists to fight one another.  The only advantage she had on him was that she used her entire body to fight, not just her hands.  She kicked and swiped at him, causing him to stumble every now and then.  She started to tire.  They had been fighting for too long and if this didn’t end soon she wasn’t going to make it to the peak.

She made the mistake of looking over her shoulder at the moon, trying to gauge what time it was, but Stanis punched her square in her jaw and she fell to the floor, the dagger sliding across the snow and over the edge of the mountain.

He pounced on her and began to hit her over and over; her face, stomach, and chest were his target practice.  The arrow was digging into her shoulder more and she yelled in pain.  

She fought back though, holding off his attacks and scratching at his face.  With one hand she grabbed his wrist, keeping his arm suspended in the air and with the other she pushed her thumb into his eye until he bellowed and fell backwards, holding his eye.

“You’re a fucking freak just like your family!”  He screamed, scooting backwards.  He kept moving until his back hit a rock and his body stiffened and he went pale in the moonlight.  By that point she had gotten up and retrieved the dagger he had dropped.  She stalked towards him, her prey, and smiled, dropping to her knees so she could straddle him, their chests touching.

“Wanna know what I think a real good time looks like?”  She purred, her lips grazing his remaining ear.

Stanis didn’t reply.  He just looked at her wide eyed, terror filling his eyes like hers had and she just smirked at him like he had.

“This,” she grunted and drove the knife into his neck and dragged it across, nearly decapitating him.

He gasped and tried to grab at his throat, but she held his arms back.  She watched as he bled to death, suffocating on his own blood.  She got up and admired her work, cleaning the blade off with her sweater before stuffing it into her pants.  

She spat on his body.  “That’s for Kristoff you piece of shit.”

It was almost 8 o’clock by the time she resumed her trek up the mountain, the Pass and her victims behind her.  She guessed she would reach the summit in the knick of time, but she was wrong.  She would reach it with an hour to spare, setting the record for not just the fastest summit on Ramiel, but the first female to do so.

She was winnowed into the Commander’s tent at Windhaven.  He was asleep when she got there, and his seconds, the ones who grabbed her a week ago, were also asleep.  She cleared her throat and they woke up, their expressions turning into one of surprise when they saw her there, beaten, bloody, bruised, with an arrow sticking out of her shoulder.

They all looked at her for a few minutes, but she kept her eyes on the Commander.  “This was your son’s.  You’ll find him at the Pass of Enalius with his neck cut open.  He put up a good fight.  You should be proud, Commander.”  Then she threw the dagger on the table and walked out of the tent to her house.

When she got back to the house, she found Rhysand, her mother, her uncle, Cassian, and Azriel passed out on the couch, the armchair, and the floor in the living room.  They jumped up at the sound of the door closing and her kicking the snow off her boots.

“Oh my sweet girl,” her mother called out and ran to her, wrapping her arms around her.  Even though the arrowhead was tearing further into her shoulder, she didn’t move.  Her mother’s embrace was warm and comforting and she smelled like home.  And as she rocked her back and forth, she began to cry.

Celestia woke up with a start, pushing her chair back and hitting the hearth behind her.  She didn’t know where she was and she couldn't recognize the people around her.  Everyone was looking at her, some were crying, but all had the same look in their eyes: fear, despair, pity, and sympathy.

She jumped when she connected with the hearth and pulled her dagger out from her leg pointing it at everyone.  “What-” she began, but Rhysand grabbed her arm.

“It’s just us.  You’re safe.  You are not there.”  His voice was calm and soft, like velvet.  Like the blanket her mother had given her for her 12th birthday.

She looked at him, her eyes were crazed and her violet irises had been reduced to black pupils.  She kept looking at him then around the room, panting.  She was having a panic attack.

Rhysand repeated himself, trying to pull her towards him but she whimpered and shook her head, pulling back.

“Stop.  Don’t touch me,” she was crying.  “I have to go.  Please,” she was sobbing now.

He let go and she made a break for the door, bumping into the couch and side table and then Azriel, who caught her by her elbows.

They locked eyes and his gaze was unlike the ones around her.  It was soft and loving and there were hints of yearning.  She could only gape up at him, tears streaking her cheeks.

“Do you need me?”  He asked.  His voice was hushed, but sincere.  

He searched her eyes for an answer, but she gave him none.  Instead she ran out of the room and up the stairs to her bedroom, slamming the door.  

She clutched her chest and the panic continued to build.  Her room was dark with a fire lit in the hearth and all she could think about was the night with Stanis in his camp and how it looked the same: dark with a fire.

She ran to the bathroom and threw up until it was just bile and then she sobbed, wishing she was in her mother’s embrace where she was warm and safe and happy.

[mother-above]

The Golden Warrior | Chapter 11

Azriel x Reader

Summary: To you, love was a poison that slowly killed. It was something that could make the strongest of warriors and leaders weak and vulnerable. You had successfully evaded romance and relationships for a century until the day you realized it had been plaguing you from within.

Chapters: 11/?

Warnings: 18+, fluff, and suggestiveness

*masterlist*

That fluttering feeling in your stomach was unnerving. It happened whenever Azriel was near you. You’d managed to avoid actively garnering interest in anyone for decades, and you’d forgotten what it was like to feel butterflies in your stomach. After a couple of days of contemplation, you determined that whatever you felt for Azriel was better than having feelings for Tarquin. You rationalized that having feelings for Azriel wasn’t the end of the world, he was a good friend who was there when you needed him. You were sure anything you felt for Azriel would die off since you were friends, nothing more.

Confusing feelings aside, you were thankful for Azriel for never mentioning your conversation by the river. He saw what you felt was bothering you, so he shut his mouth and gave you some distance. While slightly upsetting, avoiding the topic was a gift, it gave you the chance to pretend you never admitted your fondness for the Illyrian.

At first, Azriel was nowhere to be found and then he was suddenly everywhere. It didn’t help that you were now hyper-aware of him whenever he was in the room. You would be on the training ring with Cassian and Nesta and all of a sudden, Azriel was there needing to speak with Cassian or doing some combat training. It took incredible willpower to ensure your eyes don't wander off to Azriel’s sweaty and muscular form. You’d walk into the kitchen looking for a snack and Azriel would already be there making something for himself. You’d sit with your coffee and try to lose yourself in a book, when you looked up, he was gone but a plate of what he made was placed near you. 

The two of you barely talked, the only words you spoke to each other were greetings and goodbyes but Azriel’s gaze was heavy. You felt this cool caress whenever he spotted you, this always threatened to make your cheeks turn red because you had no idea what Azriel was thinking.

On the other hand, Azriel oscillated from pure joy to deprecating anxiety multiple times a day. When you told him that you liked him, he almost shot up into the air in glee but then he remembered his sobering reality. You still didn’t want a mate and you looked like you were about to hurl after your admission. This was not what Azriel fantasized, he imagined the minute you realize your feelings for him, you would jump into his arms and he’d declare his feelings for you.

In the few weeks, you spent in the Night Court, you had regained your usual weight and your muscles were more toned instead of sinewy. That golden glow had yet to make an appearance but it was miles better from when you first arrived. 

He was giving you space but he couldn’t take it anymore, he wanted to talk to you and be near you. Nesta told him that you had asked Cassian to train together and Azriel burned in jealousy. There was no reason for him to feel like that but he hated the idea of another male coming into close contact with you, even if it was his mated brother. So every time you trained, Azriel was there too, keeping a close eye and making sure Cassian wasn’t pushing you too far.

You were fighting well for someone who was recently injured, Cassian was so impressed that he didn’t have to hold back. With Feyre and Nesta, he had to be mindful not to go too hard but with you, he was having fun and used you for a proper workout. The two of you were practicing hand-to-hand combat and you were destroying him, raining down punches and kicks in a flurry. Cassian gleamed with sweat and he could barely breathe but that didn’t stop the competitiveness, when you met his eye with a cocky smirk, Cassian launched an attack.  

At first, you were able to defend but Cassian was determined to beat you this time. He was throwing everything at you, and finally, with a disorienting punch, you were thrown off before a hard kick to your chest sent you flying. You land on your back with a thud and it takes a second for you to catch your breath. You see a grinning Cassian approaching you on your peripheral only to see Azriel’s towering form take over your vision. 

He kneels and gingerly helps you sit up. “Are you okay?”

Your head was swimming but you weren’t mad, instead you started laughing. It’s been a while since anyone has knocked you down while sparring. 

You stabilized yourself in his arms. “I’m fine! Cass and I just got away with the training.” Laughter halted when you saw Azriel’s grim face, his lips pressed into a thin line. 

He gave Cassian a withering glare and the usually tough General wished he could disappear into the shadows. 

“What the hel were you thinking, Cas?” said Azriel as he thoroughly looked you over. “From now on, I’ll spar with you.”

Your jaw went slack before gaining control of your body. “Oh– there’s no need. I’m fine with Cassian. He’s the general and I wouldn’t want to impose on your du-”

“It’s fine!” chirped Cassian. He should have expected Azriel to act like this if you ever got hurt. “He’s the spymaster, he’s sneaky and will teach more than I could at this point.”

You looked between Azriel and Cassian with a lifted brow. The General was biting the inside of his cheek hoping you would just say ‘yes’ so he could avoid Azriel’s deadly glare while the shadowsinger’s eyes were practically begging you.

“Okay,” you sorely got up from the floor. Shaking out your limbs, you got into a defensive stance. After eyeing Azriel’s glistening tan chest, you went for the attack.

***

Your first spar with Azriel broke the tension, and everything returned to normal. Neither of you mentioned what happened by the Sidra or the night he spent sleeping next to you and you wanted to keep it that way, it’d be easier to forget about your feelings if you ignored it. Your twisted logic surmised that exposure therapy was what you needed. The ultimate goal was to be around Azriel without feeling those butterflies in your stomach.

Since the two of you were finally interacting normally, the inner circle could breathe a sigh of relief no longer having to deal with a broody Golden Warrior and shadowsinger. Rhysand and the others knew something transpired between you but no one dared to ask what happened. Family dinners were much more pleasant whenever you joined in on the banter. 

Tonight’s dinner was full of complaints, Cassian had to deal with the war camps and he always had stories to tell at the end of the day. Rhysand and Feyre were frustrated with the task of finding Bryaxis, Rhysand, and Azriel’s contacts had no idea where he could be. Remembering your short conversation with the death god, Amren suggested that you could help find Bryaxis. Azriel bristled at the thought of you near the creature again, biting his tongue when you enthusiastically offered your help.

The next few days were relatively uneventful and you were thankful for it, since Amarantha’s wrath you haven’t been able to relax and do nothing. Back in Dawn Court, there was always something for you to do but here, you could breathe. You and those who lived in the House of Wind had adapted into a routine, you had melded seamlessly into their lives; it didn't feel like you’d only been there for a few weeks. 

Every night you ended up in the library with some sort of drink in your hand and a companion who you’d sit and read with until it was late and eyes were fluttering close. Sometimes Nesta, Elain, and Mor would join you but they always went to bed early, leaving you alone with Azriel. At first, you were afraid of spending more time alone with him but you thought of it as good practice to teach your body not to react when he was nearby. You had your designated spot on the loveseat while Azriel stretched out on the couch across from you. The House was rowdy during the day so it was nice to spend time with your friend. Half of the time spent in the library was the two of you having a quiet conversation and the other was spent absorbed in the books.

Nesta had lent you a stack of romance books from her collection, and you were flying through them. You might not want to be in love yourself but you liked reading about fictional people falling in love and having tender and fiery moments. The book in your hands had you slyly looking behind to make sure no one could see the pages. The love interest had wings similar to the Illyrians whose wings were extremely sensitive when touched. Your gaze flickered to the male in front of you, your eyes looking directly at the membranous leather illuminated by the fireplace. Clearing your throat, you flipped a page and tried hard to focus on the story. It was going well until the character's blonde hair began to morph into inky black hair with similar features to Azriel. 

You bit your lip trying hard to think of someone else, but the image had already been branded into your imagination, even thinking about Tarquin didn’t help. The scenario in the novel was getting steamy, you imagined it would be hard to do but it was so outlandish that heat flashed through you at the thought.

No amount of magic was fast enough to cover the scent of your arousal. You looked at Azriel hoping he hadn’t noticed but it was too late. He was already smirking.

“What are you reading?” said Azriel, his voice low. “It must be fascinating.”

You sat there stunned, you’d never heard his voice that deep, and you’d never heard him purr.

It took everything in you not to stutter. “None of your business, shadowsinger.”

His demeanor had changed, his hazel eyes darkened and his jaw clenched as if he was restraining himself. You looked at him curiously and then it hit you, his musky scent of cedar and night. Attempts of deep breaths to collect your thoughts were a bad idea because now you were hypnotized, the musk and woodsy smell of you and Azriel intertwining together. 

“It’s one hundred percent my business if I’m going to sit here for the next hour with you sitting there blushing and smelling like that.“

You rolled your eyes. “Fine.”

Azriel’s smirk stayed as he sat up and fully faced you eager to hear what you had to say.

“The love interest in the book has wings and he and the main character are attempting to have sex in mid-air. It’s so ridiculous they ended up crashing into a mountain, I'm just glad they did it in an unpopulated area. The only logistical way of that successfully happening is if both people had wings and even then, I’d imagine it would be difficult to do…” 

You cursed yourself as intrusive thoughts of you and Azriel in that compromising position filled your head. You stomped it down and saw an amused smile on his lips, it was as if he knew what you were thinking. 

Azriel clicked his tongue and his eyes bore into yours. “That does sound rather arduous and inconvenient. Couldn’t they wait?”

“I guess not, desire is desire.”

He shook his head, “That wouldn’t do it for me. I’d need a hard surface to lay my lover down.”

The Shadowsinger held his breath, he couldn’t believe he said that but he couldn’t help it.

“Agreed, it’s hard to have some control when you’re up in the air.”

Azriel leaned forward, and he found himself actively holding himself back from reaching for you. Your scent of rich lilacs and morning dew made him feel intoxicated. “What do you know about control?”

Instinct moving you closer, you met his gaze with the same intensity, feeling his cool gaze trace your lips and cheekbones. Gods, you wanted to reach over and take him on that chair. The thought of you straddling and having Azriel beneath you made your breath hitch.

“I know enough that I like control and to be controlled,” you said softly.

You swear a rumble was heard from Azriel’s chest. He wished he could cross over and kiss you but he knew you wouldn’t appreciate that.

“How peculiar, I like control too… although I don’t know how to feel about being controlled.”

No longer thinking straight, you grinned wickedly at the handsome man before you. “You should try it sometime, it may be euphoric for you, something you may end up liking.”

The two of you sat in silence, gears turning in your head while you fought internal battles. The air inside the library was thick, hot, and reeking of you and Azriel. Combined with your magic, it was making it hard to breathe. Azriel refused to touch you first, he could smell that you wanted him but you had to be fully onboard, and he knew you weren’t there yet. 

While Azriel restrained himself, you were screaming at yourself for wanting this. You could scent that he wanted you too but you couldn’t make him a fling, he already meant too much.

You broke eye contact first, your arms feeling like lead as you reached for the stupid romance book. The faerie on the cover had feathered wings, their familiarity jolting and reminding you of the unusable ones glamoured on your back. Azriel was still looking at you with blown eyes, the hazel barely peeking through. He could not believe the two of you had admitted those things to each other.

You bit your lip as you slowly gathered your belongings scattered around the library, an air of embarrassment hanging in the air. This interaction was going to put a rift between the two of you and you wanted to avoid that, things were finally feeling normal. 

Without thinking, you turned to him once again. “Azriel,” you said, breaking the silence. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

He blinked, your clear voice pulling him from the heated trance. “I have some tasks to do for Rhys but I’m free in the morning.”

“At sunrise, I’ll meet you on the balcony. You’re going to help me fly.”

Surprise flickered in his features but a genuine smile made its way to his face. “Whatever you wish, little dove”

***

You woke up just before the sun rose, slipping into leggings, a backless long-sleeve, and a jacket. You trudged over to the kitchen where Azriel was waiting for you with a light breakfast. The anxiety of flying had quelled any awkwardness about last night's conversation with Azriel, you were radiating with nervous energy and he noticed. In an attempt to distract you, he told you that he had learned how to fly past the appropriate age, his days in the cellar had stunted his growth in many ways. Talk of his past fully woke you up, heart-wrenching at the thought of little Azriel being deprived of a childhood.

You clung onto his neck, his warmth easing your worries as he flew directly to a discreet spot. He told you this was also where he gave Feyre flying lessons. When he placed you on the ground, you realized that your friends hadn’t seen the horrible scars on your back. 

“Azriel… you haven’t seen my back or wings yet… the skin looks bad and the left wing healed a little strangely.”

He smiles softly, “Look at who you’re talking to, dove. Your scars will never scare me.”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you took off your jacket and slowly turned. It’s only been a few months so the scar was still red and angry. Azriel stepped closer and couldn’t help the gasp that escaped.

“It looks that bad, huh? 

Azriel immediately shook his head. “No. It just makes me think of all you’ve had to endure.” Without thinking, his scarred fingers traced the jagged lines, his warm hands leaving goosebumps on your skin. “Dove, you’re stronger than you think. Let me see your wings.”

He stepped back and then you unglamoured them, hissing at the weight and strain of your wings.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

Azriel tells you to flex them out and bring them in, let the wings get used to moving again. While doing your exercise, Azriel saw what you meant by your left wing looking a little different, some feathers growing crooked but it was barely noticeable. Your white and gold feathers were still as beautiful as ever.

You were struggling since your back hadn’t moved specific muscles in months. Once Azriel was satisfied with your warm up he told you to practice lifting off the ground without any aid from jumping or using your legs. You strained but managed to rise a foot off the ground, gaining confidence, you kept trying and lifted off 5 feet in the air. 

Azriel thinks you need a big push so he brings you to a large landing 10 feet in the air. Never in your life did you think you’d be scared of heights but there you were trembling at the 10-foot drop, the spymaster looking small from your vantage point.

“Lift off and then slowly fly down to the ground. You can do it!”

You looked at him warily. “What if I fall?”

“Then I’ll catch you.”

The way he said it made you gasp, it was earnest and you wholeheartedly believed him. Four simple words but in that moment, you knew you could trust him with your life.

Emptying your mind, you lifted off and shakily made your way down to Azriel with the grace of a five-year-old Peregryn child. Azriel let out a cheer the moment your feet touched the ground, his excitement making you smile. 

“Do you think you can do that someplace higher?” he said pointing to a larger cliff nearby. 

Fueled with how well you’ve been doing, you agreed. In no time, you were up top and Azriel was waiting in the bottom. Taking a deep breath, you lifted off and tried hard to fly gracefully. Your wings were flapping hard and about halfway down, a muscle contracted, and nerve pain shot out from your back. You let out a yelp and then began falling, Azriel was quick enough to catch you before swerving into a tree.

He carefully placed you on the ground and your hand immediately went up and glowed, trying to detect what had happened. When you couldn’t find anything wrong other than temporary muscle spasms, you ground your teeth together. Frustration coursed through your body making you burst into tears.

Azriel’s eyes grew wide, he was never good with crying females and now he had no idea what to do with his bawling mate.

“Are you okay?” he asked shakily.

You raised your hands to gesture to yourself and the world. “No, I’m not okay! I’m a fucking failure and everything is going wrong!”

Your outburst took Azriel aback. “What do you mean?”

“I shouldn’t be here. I’m the High Lord’s godsdamned second, I should be in Dawn taking care of my court but I’ve made so many mistakes my cousin had to send me here to sort myself out. On top of that, I’m a Peregryn who can’t freaking fly because of some stupid mental block. How pathetic can I get?” 

The tears don’t stop coming and you cover your face, mortified that Azriel was seeing you cry like this. Weeks of built-up frustration had finally found its release, you sobbed until your breaths stuttered.

Azriel couldn’t stand hearing you talk so negatively about yourself. He watched you crumpled on the ground and his heart clenched at the sight. “No...” he whispered as he lowered himself to your level. He took your hand and gently pulled you to sit up. Azriel slung an arm to support your sore back while one hand stroked your cheek. “You are anything but pathetic. You were doing so well and I pushed you too hard today, we shouldn’t have done that last drop. I’m so sorry, dove.”

“Don’t be sorry, Az,” you blubbered out. “I checked and nothing’s wrong with me. I’m sore but it was all in my head.”

You leaned against his warm chest as the words sank in. Azriel’s large hands rubbed small circles on your back, his touch soothing you into a calm state, your breathing slowly matching his. Cool wisps stroked your feathered wings and your lip twitched, Azriel remembered that Peregryns loved getting their wings stroked.

“This mental block…” you began, “I’m scared of losing my wings. Aside from my sword, my wings are all I have left of my father. It’s so stupid but I hid my wings for fear of losing them. I feel foolish because my Peregryn soldiers aren’t part Fae like me. Like you, they can’t retract their wings and here I am complaining about feeling vulnerable.” 

Azriel continued to smooth your skin, his touch leaving tingles. His brow was furrowed, hazel eyes looking at you with so much intensity you couldn’t understand it.

“You must think I’m pathetic.”

He vehemently shook his head. 

“No,” his hand traced the scar on your cheek. “You’ve lost so much and all you do is give. No one blames you for acting like this. Let’s end today’s session and pick it up when I come back from my mission. I told you I'd help you fly again and I would never break a promise.”

You merely nodded and let Azriel hold you close as he flew to the House of Wind. He landed gently on the balcony and to your surprise, you see the inner circle eating their breakfast. You bristled at first, wondering if you should glamour your wings but Azriel’s little smile and comforting hand on the small of your back stopped you. You nodded towards your friends and made your way to a chair. The inner circle did their best not to gape at the sight of your wings or the partially hidden scar on your back. They notice your red blotchy eyes but no one says anything when they see Azriel discreetly shake his head, asking his family not to bring it up right now.

You remain quiet during breakfast, your mood slowly improves with every joke amongst your friends. Once the meal was over, Cassian had managed to successfully rope you into the ridiculous banter, your eyes shining with tears of laughter.��

Nesta was brave enough to bring up your wings, she called them lovely and you drew them out a bit to show more feathers. Cassian who was finally able to freely look at your wings burst out with words that sent everyone into screaming laughter.

“So, whose wingspan is bigger?”

The group had decided the age-old question was finally going to be answered. Amren cackled with glee when the House provided a tape measure on the table. Mor squeals in excitement and one by one, she carefully measured every winged fae’s wingspan. From smallest to largest, it went from Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, you and then Azriel. Upon hearing the results, Azriel’s eyes snapped to his brothers and then to you with a wicked grin. You rolled your eyes because the Peregryn’s must have the same thought about wing size and male bodily appendages.

The lord of bloodshed growled in dissatisfaction, insisting that everyone gets measured again. His pout grew when he realized that Azriel did have a bigger wingspan than him. Cassian was never going to hear the end of it.

He looked over to your white and gold feathers and his frown deepened. “If the Golden Warrior was a male, that’d mean her manhood would be more grand than mine.”

This sent everyone into hysterics, Rhysand was howling in laughter as Feyre clutched your arm, making you double over. Azriel was shaking his head but even he couldn’t help reacting to Cassian’s comment. 

As the merriment died down, Rhys and Azriel looked at their watches, their faces growing serious at the thought of the Shadowsinger’s mission ahead. Azriel disappears into the shadows only to emerge a minute later dressed in full Illyrian leathers, his chest, and legs strapped with weapons. 

Waving you over to the balcony, Azriel towered over you, the playfulness from earlier was long gone. Something in your heart twists and you suddenly feel nervous for Azriel.

“Where are you going?”

“I can’t tell you that…but Rhsyand will fill you in later.”

You peered inside to look for the High Lord only to find everyone had left, leaving you and Azriel alone. 

Eyeing the glinting hilt of Truthteller, you lift a brow at him. “Will you be okay? You’re armed to the teeth… are you going to need back-up?”

His heart leaps at the thought of you worrying about him. “I’m just being cautious, it’s a quick reconnaissance trip. I’ll see you by lunch tomorrow.”

Your mouth twists, something didn't feel right even though there was no reason to feel like that. Azriel was more than capable of a reconnaissance mission so you smiled up at him and wished him luck. Feeling bold, Azriel grasped your hand and gave it a little squeeze before swiftly turning around and taking off from the balcony.

Your fingers tingled and warmth seeped onto your face as you watched his figure grow smaller against the cool blue sky. It was odd but you found yourself looking forward to seeing Azriel safe and sound back at the house. You startle when your thoughts about Azriel are interrupted by an obsidian claw knocking on your mental shield. Leaving a crack open, you let Rhysand’s voice fill your mind.

“Meet me in my office… Thesan and I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

a/n: I am so so sorry for the long wait. life has been crazy and I hope you're all doing well. thank you for reading xoxo

taglist: @inloveallthetime , @phoenix666stuff, @books-and-lit, @fightmedraco, @annamariereads16, @gorlillaglue25

[berryz-writes]

It's always going to be you

Summary: You and Azriel spend less time with each other and soon it seems he spends more time with Elain- apologising and fluff

Azriel x reader

I watched, holding my breath as Elain let out a small laugh at something Azriel said, her hand coming up to rest on his arm. Did she need to do that? No, she probably didn't. But I let it go because she was getting better now. Her smiles were more frequent and if she found my mate funny then fine. I wouldn't be jealous about it.

Another week later and Elain and Azriel were walking the streets of Velaris. I had paused in my tracks to watch them, their heads bent together talking about something important it seemed. It felt like I hadn't gone shopping with Az in so long let alone have a nice conversation that lasted longer than a minute. They seemed comfortable together. Fine. As long as they were both happy there was no reason for me to jump to conclusions.

It was game night and Elain and Azriel had paired up. Yes, they were playing chess against each other but they chose each other and left me on the side lines, merely part of the audience. I wasn't even give a second glance. "Y/n? Aren't you going to play?" Cassian asked from where he was sat on the sofa, one arm around Nesta the other holding a glass of wine.

I shook my head "I'm tired. Maybe next time" I turned to look back at Azriel because like usual I was drawn to him. It seemed he was unaffected by our bond now because he hadn't even looked at me once throughout the entire day. The longer I stared the harder it was to fight back tears. I stood up and mumbled an excuse to leave, Nesta being the only one who listened to my made up excuse. I walked out the house and rubbed my hands together, my feet taking me to the bench I had sat on so many times. Luckily I was smart enough to grab hold of a thick shawl before leaving. The Sidra was as beautiful as always, lights glowing around the area, Fae spilling out of different bars across the street.

I pulled the shawl closer to me and tried to enjoy the sight in front of me rather than my mind going back to things I didn't want to think about.

Where are you?

Y/n? Are you okay? Where are you? Tell me where you are.

Sweetheart please. Are you allright?

Azriel's voice, panicked and full of fear in my mind. The spiteful thing to do would be to ignore him and build a barrier between the both of us but because I was never able to see or hear Azriel worry for so long I replied with

I'm fine

I went home for the night, enjoy yourself

I blocked him out. I didn't want to think about anything right now. I wasn't in the mood to talk to him.

Of course if someone asked if I still loved him I would have replied with a "yes" in a heartbeat. Maybe we just needed space. Or maybe I was being dramatic. It's not as if I had walked in on them kissing or something.

"Fancy seeing you here, y/n" Someone said. I had to blink away my sleepiness and try and find the source of the voice. It was Keller. A friend who I usually had lunch with when I was in town or needed someone to help me translate a piece of text.

I gave him a warm smile, his blonde almost silver hair shining in the street lamps.

"Is there a seat free?" He gestured next to me at the empty bench but before I could answer a loud thud was heard behind me and without having to turn around I could tell who it was. He must have hidden his scent because otherwise I would have known he was coming this way earlier.

"Apologies, but the seats taken. You should get going now" Azriel's voice was tight and full of anger, one wrong answer from Keller would result in things that were too gruesome too think of.

Still, he hesitated, looking between me and Azriel who was behind me and probably sending daggers at him.

"I'll see you tomorrow. Have a nice night" I gave him an awkward smile, trying to reassure him.

"Right. Enjoy your time." And with a nod "Shadowsinger" He walked away soon disappearing behind a corner. I didn't bother turning around and instead waited for Azriel to show himself. His footsteps were light as his form came into view, blocking the scene of the Sidra. He stood there for a good minute or so evaluating every inch of me with his piercing eyes. His shadows moved away from him, coming to brush against me as if they were checking if I was ok as well.

"Are you all right? Your not hurt are you?" His voice was soft, a great contrast to the tone he was using with Keller a second ago.

I sighed "Physically, yes"

He took this as a chance to sit down next to me, making sure there was a small distance between us. As if he wasn't sure what I wanted. I wasn't sure either. I wanted space but I also wanted him to wrap his arms around me and tell me everything would be alright.

"I didn't know what happened to you. I thought you had been taken. I thought I wouldn't see you again" Azriel's voice was quiet and almost broken in a way. I turned to look at him, to see if he was the same Azriel as a few weeks ago.

"What's happened to us?" I asked. I didn't know either but there was one thing I knew and that was something had changed.

As soon as the words escaped me, Azriel froze. His breathing coming to a stop and his eyes focused completely on me and my breathing. For the first time in my life I heard him stumble over his words "what...what do you mean?" He asked, his voice so quiet and full of worry. His shadows paused their constant movement around me and froze as well, their touch now cold.

I wrapped my arms around me, the shawl suddenly not doing much to block the cold out properly "Don't you feel as if we've grown apart? Like...maybe we aren't as close as we used to be?"

I couldn't look at him while saying that. Instead I let my head fall back so I could look at the comforting sight of the stars. Something that was always there. I felt a slight shift to my right where Azriel moved closer to me, his wings coming to wrap around me.

I looked at him, opening my mouth to thank him for the warmth but before I could say anything his shaky voice interrupted me "I love you. I will always love you. I am so sorry you felt as if I wasn't giving you enough time. I know you deserve more than I could ever-"

I put my hand up to stop him "It's not about that. It's about you always being with Elain. Tell me, Azriel. How long has it been since we've been shopping together? How long has it been since you've come home when I'm not asleep because it's the middle of the night? How long will this go on? This back and forth of me waiting for you while you go off with Elain doing who knows what"

I felt his heart beat increase with every word I said and as I let it all out I felt full of guilt. I was being irrational and dramatic. And Azriel didn't deserve it. We had been through so much and I was complaining about him not spending time with me

"sorry. I didn't mean that. I just...got carried away" I looked away from him. He looked heartbroken and I had done that to him.

A silent minute passed before Azriel broke it by picking me up and winnowing us to his room

"what? what are you doing?" I asked, disoriented from the winnowing. I sat on his bed, trying to get used to the soft lighting in his room.

He sat next to me and held my hands in his, warmth seeping through me "I could never cheat on you, sweetheart. I'd rather shred my wings than hurt you. You understand that...don't you? There is nothing between me and Elain and there never will be. I'm sorry you felt that way" He pressed a kiss to my hand, his eyes golden in the light. The way he looked at me made me think, how could I have doubted him?

"I know you aren't cheating. Of course I know that but why does it feel like you spend more time with her than me?" I ask quietly, afraid of the answer. Maybe it's because I've become boring now after all these years.

"My love, your the one who told me to help her. You told me spend time with her because she seemed to like my company. I did it for you, sweetheart. Don't you think I'd rather spend my time with my beautiful mate?"

His hand moved up to cup my cheek, brushing away a tear that had escaped. "It's always going to be you."

I leaned into his comforting warmth and let my doubts and fears wash away. "I'm sorry for doubting you, Az"

"you had every right to" He mumbled back, his arms now encircling me completely. I felt safe and wanted in his arms, like nothing could ever go wrong.

(KEEP IN MIND I LOVE ELAIN EVERYONE. my personal opinion is she should end up with lucien)- as usual not proof read

MASTERLIST

[pellucid-constellations]

Of Oblivious Minds

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Pining, yearning, idiots in love?? (an angsty moment as well)

a/n: What am I doing!! I don't know!! This is part one and there will be one or two more parts :) Thank you for reading ily ♡

Part 2

~~

You were having an epiphany—of that you were certain. 

Sitting in the main room of the townhouse, a glass of wine spinning in your hand, many things were beginning to make sense to you. It was ridiculous that you hadn’t come to this realization before. All of the hints were right in front of you. 

You leaned back in the armchair, a scrutinizing gaze pointed toward the corner of the room. You took a sip of your wine—a contemplative sip—and then ran through the facts in your head. Yes, it made perfect sense. 

You wanted to kick yourself for not noticing before. 

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking so hard.” Cassian’s voice startled you out of your thoughts. You blinked up at him as he took a seat on the arm of your chair. “Want to share why you’re staring a hole into the wall?” 

“I was just… noticing something,” you murmured over the rim of your glass, voice low. 

“And what’s that?” 

You paused, pursing your lips. It would sound silly if you were wrong. But Cassian looked at you expectantly, so you simply whispered, “I think Az is in love with Elain.” 

The sudden, rumbling laugh bouncing off the walls set your cheeks ablaze. The entire room halted their conversations to look at Cassian as he doubled over, holding his stomach with no signs of letting up. You stared up at him, mortified, and smacked his arm as his laughs lowered into senseless chuckles. 

“Cassian, quit it. It’s not that funny—stop it or I’ll hit you again.” 

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Sorry, that was just… that was a good one, y/n.” 

“What’d she say?” Rhys asked, perking up from the other side of the fireplace. 

“Nothing to warrant that reaction,” you grumbled, sinking lower into your seat. 

Fighting back the vibrations in his chest, Cassian took a deep breath. “Inside joke, Rhys. You wouldn’t get it.” 

Rhys huffed out an offended breath, quirking a brow at his antics. He looked to Mor and Feyre to garner some support, but they only giggled back at him. 

“Maybe we would.” 

Azriel’s gravelly tone only made you collapse further into the armchair. If you’d known there would be consequences to sharing your epiphany with Cassian, you would have kept your mouth shut. Cassian was usually wonderful at keeping secrets. 

“Oh, brother, you’d find it funny as well, surely,” Cassian shared, heaving up from the chair. “But, alas, I have to go. No inside jokes for the room.” 

“Well that’s not fair. You don’t get to cause a riot and then leave,” Mor whined, her cheeks rosy and her eyes glassy. Clearly, she had been having her own drinks throughout the night. 

“Lovely. Now you want to know? Where was that attitude while you were giggling with my mate?” Rhys accused. 

Feyre jumped in this time, pinching the high lord’s cheek and cooing, “Oh, you big Illyrian baby.” 

The focus was no longer on you and your apparently laughable realization. Cassian’s reaction did little to deter you from the thought, however, and you were still quite resolute in your observations. Looking over at the couple in question only solidified that. 

They were huddled close, Elain’s knees pressed against Azriel’s thigh as they spoke in low tones. Azriel would occasionally take a glance around the room, lingering on you as he went, but that was natural for the shadowsinger. His shadows were gone, where they went you had no idea, and his wings were held tightly behind his back. 

And he stared at her—intently—as she nodded her head and answered whatever it was he had asked. 

He had to be in love with her. 

You were usually quite good at reading these types of things. 

“I’m taking you home now,” Cassian spoke, holding out his hand. “We’ll walk.” 

“What if I don’t want to go home?” you asked, taking his hand and following him despite your words. 

“After all that nonsense, I think it’s clear you need a good night’s rest. Plus, you and I are in the ring bright and early tomorrow morning.” 

You groaned, knocking your head back at the reminder of your obligations. It always sounded like such a good idea over breakfast. Cassian had clearly learned that you would only say yes to early morning trainings when you were half-asleep. 

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go, sweetheart.” 

You let him yank you to the door, your feet dragging behind you, when a warmth encased your shoulders. You recognized the material of your coat instantly and turned to see Azriel smoothing it down over your arms. 

“For your walk,” Azriel quietly explained. “You left it on the back of my chair.” 

“Oh!” you chirped, feeling the early licks of embarrassment barrage your chest. It’s not like he heard you talking about him, right? “Thanks, Az. I almost forgot.” 

He offered you one of his soft, rare smiles. “I know. I remembered.” 

He nodded over your head to Cassian after that, and you heard Cassian’s low, I got her, Az, only because you strained your ears. 

You ended up being extremely grateful for Azriel’s forethought to grab your jacket. It was freezing outside. You could have winnowed home instead, but Cassian hadn’t really given you the option and no one ever let you winnow after you’d had something to drink. 

You landed in Summer Court one time and suddenly everyone treated you like a hazard. 

Your shoes scuffed against dark cobblestone as you walked. It was really dark, now that you looked at it. Maybe it had rained? Or a merchant had dumped their excess water? 

Or maybe it was nighttime and you were a little drunk. 

It was then that you noticed the silence. When Cassian walked you home, especially when Cassian was tipsy and he walked you home, he never shut up. So this was unusual. You squinted as you looked up at him, but he gave nothing away, keeping his gaze forward and his steps in steady pace with your own. 

“Okay, out with it,” you accused, crossing your arms over your chest. “What was so funny earlier? And why are you walking me home all stoic?” 

“I’m always stoic. Adds to my charm.” 

“Liar.” 

Cassian smirked, shaking his head, and then schooled his expression into one that was a touch more serious. “You really think Az likes Elain?” 

You watched your breath puff out white. “Don’t you?” 

“No, I don’t.” 

You shot him a skeptical glance. “Well, then you’re wrong. I’m good at picking these things out. I knew Feyre was Rhys’s made before the rest of you figured it out, didn’t I?”

“It was pretty obvious, y/n,” Cassian scoffed. He took a fleeting glance down to the ground beneath your feet. “Honestly, I’d wager that you’re actually the worst at picking these things out.”  

You gaped at him, bringing your coat closer to your body in a ploy to protect your damaged pride. Cassian only shook his head—again—and then flung an arm over your shoulder. 

“Don’t take that the wrong way. Just…take a second look, maybe.” 

“A second look at what? She was practically sitting in his lap tonight.” 

“If you say so,” Cassian hummed. 

“Stop being cryptic and buy me a snack on the way.” 

~~

The following days were… strange to say the least. 

Everywhere you went, Elain of all people was sure to follow.

And she spoke of Azriel. A lot. 

Azriel did this and Az is so sweet isn’t he and oh, did I mention that…

Obviously, she was just as in love with Azriel as he was with her. 

You were so, so right. 

There was something off-putting about that truth, but you couldn’t put your finger on why. After a few days of hearing the younger girl rave about the shadowsinger, you chalked it up to the novelty of it all. You had known Azriel for over a century, and things were changing. Of course a serious love interest in his life would make you feel strange. 

Azriel had had lovers in the past, but—now that you thought about it—you hadn’t heard him talk about another woman in months, much less seen him with one. 

Well, other than Elain. 

Perhaps it wasn’t healthy, nor productive, to be so caught up in Azriel’s love life. He was plenty capable of managing it on his own, and it’s not like you had that much of an interest, anyway. 

You blinked, shaking your head and attempting to focus back in on the book you were reading. Elain had followed you into the library under the house, but thanks to the priestesses and their admonishing looks, she kept quiet. She flipped through her own book as you continued your research assignment from Rhys. It wasn’t very interesting, which was clearly the most plausible explanation for your mind drifting to Azriel. 

Boring texts were the leading cause of nosiness.

“Do you have dinner plans?” Elain whispered after an hour of silence. 

You sent her a small smile, looking up from the archaic book. “No, are you inviting me out?” 

“Perhaps. I was thinking of asking Azriel.” 

A suffocating sort of pressure clawed at your skin. “Oh?” 

That was new. 

“Yes, but I would really appreciate it if you came,” Elain continued, eyes downcast. “It could be fun.” 

You bit into your bottom lip until the pain was uncomfortable. This was no different than her talking about Azriel all week. And you already figured that they liked each other—that they loved each other. You had relished in the discovery just a few nights ago. 

So why did it suddenly feel so different?

“I wouldn't want to intrude,” you whispered. “I think a dinner with just the two of you would be nice. Azriel would surely agree.” 

Elain shook her head. “I think he would be more inclined if he knew you were coming.” 

As a buffer. She was asking you to come to displace any awkwardness that would arise on a first date. You had done it before for Cassian. You’d done it plenty of times for Mor—even making it a double date with random men you never spoke to again. But you’d never done it for Azriel. 

Something about it felt… wrong. 

“I could come,” you found yourself saying anyway, words tumbling out before you could catch them. “But I really do think he would love a dinner alone. I might be a bit of an outlier.” 

Elain gave the closest thing to a smirk you’d seen on her face. “I somehow doubt that.” 

“What does that—” 

The ground was shaking. The faelights began violently flickering and the ground began shaking with even more vigor. You pressed down on the book in front of you and braced yourself as the air grew frenzied. The priestesses ran down the many stairs of the library as panic began setting into your bones. The last time something like this happened… 

You shuddered at the thought. 

This couldn't be an attack on Velaris. 

Elain called your name. You answered with wide eyes. 

“Get under the tables!”

You both dove beneath your table at the call, clutching at the legs with shaking hands. There was a commotion as books fell from shelves and lights popped, but there were no screams. No one was hurt. There was no attack. 

Realization coursed through you, but it did little to quell your fear as the shaking continued. 

“It’s an earthquake!” you shouted to Elain. “It’s okay, we’re going to be fine!” 

Velaris hadn’t been struck by an earthquake of this magnitude in many, many years. The last one was centuries ago, and it had led to many rebuilding efforts and a handful of injuries. You hoped this wasn’t on the same scale. Or at least that Rhys’ magic was enough to abate the worst of the damages. 

After another moment, the shaking ceased. You let the panic and adrenaline run its course as you caught your breath, Elain right beside you. It didn’t seem so bad now that it was over and the building had stayed intact. With a hand at your chest, you shook your head in disbelief. 

“By the cauldron, that was unexpected.” 

Elain let out a shaky laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt an earthquake before.” 

You offered your own breathy laugh as you both got to your feet. “Well, you have plenty of time to get The Mother scared out of you and experience another.” 

She opened her mouth to reply but was abruptly cut off as shadows materialized. Heavy footsteps rushed up stairs and it was only another beat before Azriel was upon you. Scarred hands cradled your face, turning it back and forth as hazel eyes took in every inch of your skin. Light became sparse as wings flared out behind him, shielding you from nothing.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded, voice still low despite the urgency. “Were you covered?” 

“Azriel? What are you—How did you know we were down here?” 

“Are you hurt?” 

You attempted to reconcile the chaotic present with the very calm, very expected past. Sitting in the library with a boring relic in front of you and a new reading partner compared to an earthquake and a frazzled shadowsinger clutching at your face. 

Gripping his wrists, you answered him with a slow and confused, “I’m fine.” 

He closed his eyes as he let out a long breath. “Good…. good.” 

When he released your face, he ran his hands along your hair. And then your shoulders and your arms. It wasn’t until he had touched most of you that he took a step back and ran a hand through his own hair. It was then that he seemed to remember Elain. 

“And are you alright?” he asked, far more composed than he had been a moment ago. 

“A bit overwhelmed, but I am fine as well,” she sighed out. 

Azriel didn’t touch her as he nodded in relief. 

“Was it as bad as the last one? Is everyone okay?” you cut in. 

Azriel, who had gone back to unnecessarily looking you over, furrowed his brows. “What?” 

You mirrored his expression. “The earthquake. Do you remember the last one? Was this one that bad?” 

“Oh. No. Not as bad.” 

“And how is everyone else?” 

“I’m not sure.” 

Azriel was typically short with his answers, but right now he was being particularly short. And he was never one to not have information. Ever. 

“Are you okay?” you asked instead. 

“I am now.”

You left the library wondering why Azriel had run to you and not Elain—why that moment felt so monumental in the face of all others. 

Maybe being right wasn’t what you wanted anymore. 

But maybe that wasn’t your decision to make. 

[serpentandlily]

No Going Back - Azriel x Reader

No Going Back - Azriel x Cassian’sSister!Reader

Summary: Azriel has been your mate, your husband, your love for centuries. But a certain Archeron sister has him questioning your relationship after all this time. You soon find out that there are simply things that can not be unsaid or undone. And sometimes, there are things you can’t come back from.

Warnings: angst angst angst and a little violence

A/n: based on this request. this one hurt guys :(

────────────

Azriel was late. 

Again.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair and tossing your napkin on the table. You had waited for him but at this point, the food was cold and your appetite had disappeared so you began to clear the table instead. 

It had been like this ever since the Archeron sisters had become permanent residents of the Night Court. For months now, your mate had been coming home late, skipping breakfast, leaving the bed before you even woke. He had become a scarce presence in this apartment, the one of the two of you had bought together years and years ago.

Tonight was no different. 

It had started out slow, innocent. Feyre’s sisters were having a hard time adjusting to their new lives and Elain had started clinging to Azriel at some point. You understood why. He was someone who wouldn’t push you more than you needed and would be there for you as a quiet, steady presence. 

You hadn’t minded it at first. Elain was clearly struggling a lot. But at some point, Azriel had begun to prioritize her over you. Whatever Elain needed always came first now. He had canceled dates, skipped out on dinners, left parties early—all for her. 

And it was starting to hurt.

You weren’t stupid nor naive. You knew what was happening. You were watching your mate slowly fall in love with someone else. 

Azriel had always liked playing the hero. First he was the hero for Mor, saving her when she had been discarded in Autumn, beaten and nearly dead. 

And then he was the hero for you. 

You were a bastard born Illyrian, ripped from their mother’s side as soon as you were able to complete chores on your own. You hadn’t known your father. Hadn’t even known you had a brother until he came storming the camp one day, looking for your mother. 

Cassian had almost killed you during his fit of rage once he had learned what your camp had done to your mother. He had gone on a killing spree, sparing no one until he came upon you. But he recognized your scent, took one look at you and immediately knew who you were in relation to him. 

You were only nine when he had saved you from that camp. Cassian took you that day and brought you home with him. Rhys’s mother took you in with no question but Cassian had practically raised you.

You had met Azriel and Rhysand that day as well but you had no idea what the shadowsinger was to you until years and years later. 

Once Rhysand was in power, he banned wing clipping. It pissed the Illyrian males off, of course, which led to them kidnapping you to try and clip your wings as a message for the High Lord, knowing Rhysand cared about you as much as he had cared for his own sister.

Their plan was to keep you locked up until they could get a hold of your brother, Cassian, to tie him up and make him watch what they would do to you. You were beaten within an inch of your life and kept in a cell for three days before Azriel rescued you.

You still remember the image of him stalking into your cell, his eyes lit with a feral rage. He looked like a dark Angel straight from Hell. The minute his gaze found yours, the mating bond snapped into place. 

Azriel saved you and your wings that day. And afterwards, he sat by your bedside night and day until you were fully healed. He held you through all the nightmares, waited patiently for you to be ready to accept the mating bond. And then he had trained you into a fortified spy and warrior, an equal. 

But none of that mattered now.

None of that mattered because now there was a new damsel that needed saving.

And it wasn't you.

Not anymore.

You pulled out your weapons bag from the closet and began to lay out your daggers and swords on the dining table. You had devised a plan to make Azriel feel more needed in your relationship because maybe that was what was lacking. At least, you hoped that's all this was. You hoped he wasn't truly falling in love with another female. 

Rhys had given you a job today that was supposed to be for both you and Azriel, but you were going to ask for his help—make him feel like you need him and hopefully that would make him come back to you. 

An hour later, you heard the front door open and close before his scent of cedar and night-chilled mist filled the apartment. You smiled, turning around to greet him. He gave you a half-smile in response. 

You stood on your tippy toes to kiss him as he passed by, but he swerved his head to the side, making your kiss land on his cheek instead. Your heart clenched as he walked away. 

"You're finally home," you said, trying to not let the hurt you felt seep into your tone. "I saved you some dinner if you're hungry."

He shook his head, sitting on the couch to unlace his boots. 

"That's alright. I already ate," he replied, barely looking at you.

Your fingers tightened around the dagger in your hand. Elain had cooked him dinner again, that much was obvious. Your smile dropped as the scent of jasmine and honey met your nose, only confirming your suspicions. 

Azriel strode to you now, looking over your shoulder at all the weapons on the table. 

"What's this?" 

"Rhys gave me a mission—some spy work in Hewn City," you said. "I was going to leave to complete it tomorrow but I was hoping you'd come with me. I could use the help." 

Azriel snorted. "When was the last time you needed help?”

You frowned as he breezed by you, heading towards the stairs that led to the loft where your bedroom was. "It's a high value, dangerous target. I guess I could do it alone but I would feel better if you were there with me."

"I can't, Y/n," he said, stopping at the bottom of the stairs to look at you. "I'm sorry. I already made plans with Elain."

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Here he was, once again picking Elain over you.

"Really? And you can't cancel those plans just for the day? I really need your help, Az."

"You don't," he said. "I trained you, babe. I know you don't need my help anymore." 

"Well maybe I just need you. It's that so bad? Maybe I just want to do this with you."

"I'm sorry, but Elain needs me."

You threw your hands in the air, your cheeks turning red. "What does Elain need that is so important that you can't reschedule it for a different day?" 

"She wants to go into the city. Wants to see more of Velaris. It's a huge step for her, Y/n. One she needs me for."

"And Feyre can't take her? Or Nesta? She has two sisters who are perfectly capable of showing her around Velaris."

"Well, she asked me," Azriel sighed. "And I already agreed."

"Why is it that you can bail on me all the time, miss dinners with me, skip out on our dates," you growled. "But the moment it comes to Elain, you won't even bother rescheduling a simple outing?"

Azriel narrowed his eyes at you and crossed his arms over his chest. "What exactly are you insinuating, Y/n?"

Your heart was pounding, a sick feeling in your stomach. How could he not see? How could he not see how much he was choosing her over you, his own mate?

"I'm just saying that you've been spending a lot of time with Elain," you argued. "I hardly see you anymore, Az. I just want my mate back." 

"Well, you're not the one who needs me right now, Y/n. You're not the one who's gone through immeasurable trauma. You're not the one who just barely stopped starving yourself. Elain needs help right now. Am I supposed to just turn my back on her after everything she's been through?"

You wanted to laugh. You would've if you weren't so upset. Elain wasn't the only person in Prythian to go through trauma. All of you had gone through so much. For him to disregard you like that… after everything… you felt your heart cracking into pieces. 

"She has her sisters to help her! Even Nuala and Cerridwen have been helping her adjust to life here! Why does she need you as well?"

"I can't believe you're acting like this," Azriel snarled. "I'm tired, Y/n. I don’t want to do this right now.”

"Acting like what? Acting upset because my mate is prioritizing someone else? Upset that my mate is barely home these days? Upset that my mate has been spending all his time with another female? How would you feel? How would you feel if I started spending all my time with another male, Azriel? How would you feel waking up to an empty bed, eating dinner alone while I was out with another guy?"

"It's not like that and you know it! Don't make this about you, Y/n. I thought you were better than that."

"Are you serious, Az? I have been nothing but patient and kind. I have given you so much grace. I have had to sit back and watch my mate cater to another female for months now. Months! And I only ask for one day. For you to come with me for one job and you can't even do that?" 

"Well, you can wait a little longer," Azriel said, his face cut from stone. "She needs me right now. Me. Not Feyre. Not Nesta. Not Nuala and Cerridwen. Me."

"What about her own godsdamn mate!"

"She doesn't want him and she owes him nothing. She doesn't want his help,” Azriel growled. You didn’t miss the flash of jealousy in his eyes that made your stomach twist.

"Of course she doesnt. Why would she when she can just use my mate instead? I can't believe you're picking her over me, Azriel."

"I'm not picking her over you! And I wouldn't."

"You already have! Each and every day you choose her over me. Why? Please, Azriel, explain it to me because I don't understand!"

"I already told you," Azriel growled. "She is going through a lot at the moment. You don't need me right now but she does."

"I don't care what she needs! I don't care! I'm tired of pretending like this doesn't bother me. She clearly has feelings for you and instead of discouraging her, instead of distancing yourself, you just keep running back to her! Why? You owe me an answer, Azriel!"

"I already told—”

"The truth, Azriel! Give me the fucking truth."

"Fine," Azriel snarled, his eyes going dark, his face as cold as the winter snow outside. 

The room was silent for a moment. Silent except for your heavy breathing, your heart still echoing in your chest. You felt like you were going to be sick. You hadn't expected to blow up like this but you couldn't take it anymore. 

Finally Azriel let out a sigh, deflating a bit. "I've been spending some time thinking… of us, of our family, of everything and I can't help… I can't help but think maybe the cauldron got things wrong. It doesn't make sense. Three sisters, three brothers. My brothers got two of the sisters but the other one is given to another? I can't help but question everything, Y/n. You have to understand. You know the cauldron doesn't always get things right… maybe it got this wrong."

With every word he spoke, your heart cracked more and more. You blinked in disbelief, staring at the male that you had called your love for over two hundred years now. A male you had built your life with, a male you were connected to in a very primal sense of the word. A male you had expected to be with forever.

And here he was, telling you he thinks the cauldron was wrong in making the two of you mates. Telling you that he thinks some other female should be his mate. He might as well stick a dagger straight through your heart. You were certain that would be less painful than this.

Gods, your ears were ringing. Tears lined your eyes. All of your paranoia the last few months, your feelings of inadequacy every time you saw Elain, the female he was spending all this time with over you, all of it was true. He had been falling in love with another girl… right in front of you and your family. 

"Say something," Azriel murmured. "Please."

You blinked, hugging yourself as his words replayed in your mind over and over again.

"Is that… Is that how you truly feel? Would you really rather have Elain as a mate? You think we shouldn't have been mated… that the cauldron made a mistake?"

"Fuck, I don't know! I don't know, Y/n. All I know is that my two brothers are mated to two sisters and the third… Elain.... I can't help but wonder if we would be better suited together. I'm sorry, Y/n, but you have to understand how it looks from my perspective. Please."

You shook your head, backing up. 

"So that's what you've been doing? Testing the waters? Seeing if she would be a better wife to you, a better partner?"

"No, fuck, this is coming out all wrong," Azriel groaned. "It didn't start out that way, please believe me, Y/n. I never intended on developing feelings for her. It just sort of happened naturally and I… I've just been trying to wrap my head around it all."

You couldn't breath, couldn't think.

Your mate, your husband, your one true love had fallen for another girl. Believed that he should be mated to her instead of you. 

Were you not good enough for him? Not pretty enough? Not powerful enough? What did Elain have that you didn’t?

"So you think that you and Elain should be mates. Your brothers got mated to two beautiful high fae females, and you… you're the one struck with some lowly Illyrian and not the other beautiful sister. So it must be a mistake, right?"

"Don't turn it into that, Y/n. Don't diminish it," Azriel snapped. "It has nothing to do with your looks or who is more beautiful or High Fae. I could care less about that shit."

"But it does, doesn't it? You already think you're so unworthy and this just proves it. To be mated to an Illyrian and not the third made sister."

"I knew I should've never talked to you about this," Azriel growled. "I was trying to figure it out on my own. I didn't want to hurt you, Y/n. I didn't want this to happen."

"Well it has and you did," you snapped. 

He had hurt you. Immensely so. 

Tears began to drip down your cheeks. Azriel took a step towards you at the sight of your tears but stopped himself. Your chest heaved as you turned around, staring out the window in your apartment to Velaris, where people were laughing and dancing on the streets. Partying, having the time of their lives, while yours was ending.

"Y/n—"

“Have you slept with her? Kissed her? Have you cheated on me with Elain?”

“I-I…Y/n, I’m sorry. Please—”

That was enough of an answer for you. You couldn’t even fathom the thought of kissing another male and here was Azriel, basically confessing that he fucked Elain behind your back.

You wanted to scream. Wanted to throw things at him. Wanted to tear this whole apartment down. 

"Get out."

"What?"

"Get out," you snapped. "Get out!"

You heard a resigned sigh before the front door opened and closed. He hadn't even tried to fight for you. Hadn't tried to make things better. He just left… left you falling apart, with no one to pick up the pieces of your breaking heart.

A sob finally broke out from your lips and you crumbled to the floor, crying your heart out. 

────────────

You lingered in the shadows in the alleyway across from the illustrious bar in Hewn City. Your target had gone inside over an hour ago and you were waiting for him to leave so you could trail him back to his apartment. 

You knew you shouldn’t be here right now. You were being reckless. Your mind was still a mess from last night, your heart broken. Every breath came with a deep pain in your chest. You wanted nothing more than to go home and cry and cry… but you were hoping this would distract you from the pain Azriel had left you with.

You had tried tugging on the bond a little earlier but you were met with an obsidian wall. Azriel had completely closed you off and you knew that meant he was with Elain, pretending to be her mate instead of yours.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your breath trembling as a few tears slid down your cheeks. Was he fucking her right now? Bringing her flowers and kissing her the way he used to with you?

Why weren’t you enough for him? Why weren’t you the female he wanted? The cauldron had gifted the two of you a mating bond and still it wasn’t enough to make him want you apparently.

The door to the bar swinging open had you standing up straight. A handsome High Fae male walked out from it and your eyes narrowed on your target. You slinked away in the shadows, following him down the streets.

He turned a corner and you rushed to follow, twisting to face the dark alleyway only to see it empty. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you walked down the narrow path.

You were halfway down the dark alleyway when you felt the cold tip of a dagger press against your throat. It pricked your skin, causing blood to trickle down your neck.

“Well what do we have here? A little Illyrian female, all by herself,” his voice purred from behind you. “Did you think I didn’t notice you following me, little bird?”

He spun you around, pressing you back against the wall, dagger still at your throat.

You tried to use your magic but your siphons sputtered out. It took you a minute to realize that his dagger was coated in faebane. You let out a panicked cry, trying to kick him away but he only pressed his body further against you. 

You were so fucked. You tried to tug on the mating bond again, if only to reach Azriel so he could send help. But that obsidian wall was still there. 

“I know who you are,” the male murmured. “That bastard’s sister. The shadowsinger’s mate.”

“Let me go,” you snarled, trying to twist from his grip but he pressed his dagger against your neck harder, making you stop.

“I don’t think so,” he teased, smiling. “You and I are going to have a lot of fun together, sweetheart.” 

He spun you around again, pressing your face into the brick wall. You cried as you felt his dagger run down your wing.

You tugged and tugged on the mating bond. Only silence greeted you. 

“But first, I think you’d look so much prettier without these.”

You died at the first drag of his dagger down the base of your wing. Died as he dug that dagger into the tendon, ripping up the nerves and muscle. Died as he severed off your left wing before moving to your right. Died as excruciating pain rattled your entire body.

Died as you cried out for your mate, for your brother, for anyone to come save you as the male laughed at your pleas.

Died as you tugged and tugged on your mating bond, crying and pleading for Azriel over and over again only to be met with cold, bitter silence. 

You died in that alleyway before your heart had even stopped beating.

────────────

Azriel grabbed the plate of brussel sprouts from Elain, nudging the kitchen door open with his shoulder, and walking into the dining room. He placed the plate on the dining table, smiling at Elain lightly as she followed him with a large bowl of mashed potatoes.

Rhysand, Feyre, Amren, Cassian and Nesta were already at the table, waiting. He took a seat next to Elain and Rhysand shot him a confused look. 

“Az, where’s Y/n?” 

Azriel shrugged. “Still on the mission you sent her on.”

“What?”

“The job in Hewn City?”

Rhysand looked even more confused. “Why aren’t you with her? I specifically told her not to go alone–to take you with her. This was a two person job.”

“She didn’t tell me that,” Azriel said, also confused.

“Wait, what’s going on?” Cassian asked. 

“I gave your sister a report about some happenings in Hewn City that I needed her and Azriel to check out. But I made it very clear that it was a job with a dangerous target. What did she say to you about it, Azriel?”

Azriel felt his face heat up as all the attention fell on him. “She asked me to go with her but I was meant to take Elain into the city today so I told her I couldn’t. She never told me that you ordered her to take me with her.” 

Rhysand cursed, standing up. Cassian jolted at Rhysand’s reaction, also standing up in a panic. 

“She asked you to go and you told her no?” Cassian asked, his voice darker now as he stared at his sister’s mate. “Why the fuck would you let her go alone if she asked you for help?”

“I didn’t think she would need help,” Azriel said, carefully, also rising from his seat. “She didn’t tell me that Rhys said it was dangerous!”

“She shouldn’t need to! My sister asked you for your help, your mate asked you for help, and you told her no? Why the fuck would you do that?”

“Elain needed help,” Azriel argued back. 

Elain’s cheeks turned red as the attention drifted to her for a second. “I just wanted to see more of the city. I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you ask one of us to take her?” Feyre questioned, staring at Azriel with an odd look. “I could’ve or Nesta.” 

Elain turned even more red, pressing her lips together. Amren’s eyes darted between the pair, narrowing. 

“You’ve both been messing around behind Y/n’s back, haven’t you?” Amren had always been too observant. 

“What?” Cassian exclaimed, his face darkening. “That’s not true, Azriel? Right? He wouldn’t do that to his mate. He wouldn’t do that to Y/n.”

Azriel said nothing, shame pouring down on him. But he didn’t have to. Dark talons ripped open his mental shield, sorting through his mind.

“Get the fuck out of my head, Rhysand,” Azriel snarled, baring his teeth. 

Rhysand had seen enough, his face paling as he stared at Azriel with wide eyes. Cassian’s face dropped.

“What did you see, Rhys?” He asked.

“Amren’s right,” Rhys barely choked out. “Azriel… how could you? Y/n is your mate.”

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” Cassian roared, hopping over the dining table to tackle Azriel to the floor. Elain screamed, barely making it out of range as the two males fell to the floor. He only managed to land a punch before Rhysand pulled him away. 

“We can’t do this right now,” Rhysand growled. “We need to find Y/n. She shouldn’t be in Hewn City alone. I’ve been trying to reach her but I can’t sense her.”

“What do you mean you can’t sense her?” Cassian was more panicked now. 

“Are you sure she went to Hewn City today, Azriel? I should be able to reach her from this distance.”

“I’m not sure, I assumed.”

“What the fuck do you mean you’re not sure?” Cassian glared at him, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

Azriel had the good sense to look away, rubbing the back of his neck. “We had a bit of an argument last night. She kicked me out so I was giving her space. When I went back this morning, she was already gone.”

“Why didn’t you go after her? Why were you guys fighting?” Feyre asked. 

“She figured it out, didn’t she?” Amren interjected again. “She found out about you and Elain.”

Cassian let out a curse. “Fuck! Find out where my sister is, Azriel, or I swear to the Gods I will fucking end you.”

“Cassian,” Nesta chastised, placing a hand on his arm to calm him down. But he shrugged her hand off, too angry at the fact that his friend had hurt his sister so badly. 

Azriel didn’t need to be told. He was also panicking now, wondering why you hadn’t told him that he was supposed to go with you today. He would question it later, for now he just wanted to find you. He opened his end of the mating bond back up, feeling guilty that he had kept you closed off all day.

He gasped, folding over, as a wave of your emotions crashed into him. 

Fear. 

You were sending pure fear down the bond. 

“What? What is it?!”

Cassian grabbed Azriel by the upper arms. Azriel ignored him, tugging on the bond, hoping you would respond but nothing. Nothing but fear and pain traveled back to him. His shadows exploded around him, wailing in agony.

“She… She’s in danger,” Azriel gasped. “I need to go. I need to—”

He didn’t say anything else before he disappeared in a swirl of shadows. He stepped out into Hewn City, racing down the streets, trying to follow the mating bond to you. He heard Rhysand winnow in behind him with Cassian but he didn’t pause.

He shouted your name as he ran, pushing faeries out of the way, trampling through stalls. Rhysand and Cassian were right behind him. He ran and ran into the even shadier parts of the city, until it led him to a dark alleyway.

He paused as he scented blood. A small figure was curled up on the floor, in a pool of blood. No one else in sight. He rushed forward, screaming your name in terror as he realized it was you lying in a pool of your own blood.

He skidded to a halt, falling to his knees next to you. He let out a cry and pulled you into his lap. Your wings. Your wings were gone. Your back was covered in deep wounds, your heartbeat so faint he almost couldn’t hear it. He let out a wail, shaking your limp body in his arms.

“No,” he cried. “No no no no no.” 

He patted your cheek. “Wake up, baby. Please, wake up!”

Your eyes remained closed, your body still limp.

He heard Rhysand and Cassian come to a stop behind him, panting. Cassian let out a noise of horror at the sight of his wingless sister, turning around to vomit against the wall. Rhysand cursed, kneeling next to Azriel.

Azriel growled at him, yanking your body closer to his chest.

“Azriel,” Rhysand said, softly. “We need to get her back to Velaris. She needs a healer, now, before she bleeds out.”

Azriel let out a cry, standing up and hoisting you into his arms. Rhysand placed a hand on Azriel and Cassian, winnowing them back to the River House. Azriel brushed past the group waiting in the foyer, ignoring their cries of alarm as he rushed into one of the bedrooms and placed your body on the bed.

He knelt down next to you, grabbing your hand as tears poured down his face. Your breaths were growing thinner, your heartbeat fading. He could feel the mating bond slowly tearing itself apart.

“Don’t do this,” he cried. “Please, Y/n, you can’t do this to me. You can’t die. You don’t get to do this. Not like this. Please.”

Cassian burst into the room, Madja right behind him. The older female let out a long breath at the sight of you on the bed and immediately got to work. Cassian ripped Azriel away from you, tossing him on the ground.

“Please,” Azriel begged Madja. “Please don’t let her die. Please.”

“She’s not going to die,” Madja proclaimed. “Not on my watch. But you all need to get out of my way. Send one of my healers in here to assist me.”

It took both Cassian and Rhysand to drag Azriel out of the room and away from his heavily injured mate. They had barely made it back to the living room when he was suddenly slammed against the wall.

Cassian’s fist met his jaw and he felt blood pool in his mouth. Cassian punched him again and again, crashing to the floor with him as Azriel’s legs gave out. 

“You fucking prick,” Cassian shouted. “You were supposed to be there with her and you let her go alone! You did this! This is your fault!”

Feyre was sobbing in the background, being held back by Rhysand who knew better than to get in between two Illyrian’s fighting. Elain, on the other hand, rushed forward.

“Azriel!”

But Nesta grabbed her before she could get any farther. Her face paled as Cassian growled at her. “I’ll deal with you later.”

Elain let out a noise of distress, looking at Nesta but Nesta just pressed her lips together and looked away, disappointed.

Cassian focused his attention back on Azriel. He pummeled him, shouting and screaming. They were both crying, a mess of blood and tears. 

“You are her mate! You were supposed to protect her! And you failed–You failed her!”

Azriel barely fought back. He let Cassian beat him up knowing he deserved it.

Rhysand finally placed a hand on Cassian’s shoulder. “Enough.”

Cassian paused, still crouched over Azriel. He grabbed the shadowsinger by the collar before slamming his head back on the ground and leaning in close to snarl in his ear.

“I will never forgive you for this. Never.” 

Rhysand grabbed him by the back of his shirt, lifting him off of Azriel. 

“Cassian, your sister needs you right now,” Rhys murmured. “She’s more important.” 

“If I see his face again, I will kill him, Rhys,” Cassian snarled at his High Lord. “I swear to the Gods I will.” 

“I know,” Rhys whispered with his own despair. He knew this was the last time he’d see Azriel and Cassian together. Knew his family was about to be torn apart for the first time in centuries. “I know.”

Cassian spit out blood on Azriel before storming away, back to the room where his sister lay unconscious. Azriel sat up slowly, pushing himself back against the wall and drawing his knees up to his chest. He hung his head between his knees, tears dropping onto the wooden floor.

Rhysand knelt down next to him. “Azriel, what the fuck? Why would you… what have you done?”

“I fucked up, Rhys,” Azriel muttered. “I fucked up.” 

────────────

You woke up days later. You immediately felt the absence of your wings. You groaned, trying to sit up and failing. A glass shattered against the floor and you looked up to see Azriel hovering in the doorway.

“You’re awake. Don’t… don’t try to move,” he breathed out, rushing forward. He knelt down next to the bed, grabbing your hand as tears formed in his eyes. “You’re awake.”

You pulled your hand away from him. He was the last person you wanted to see right now. It hurt just to see his face, his words were constantly replaying in your head along with the image of him and Elain together. The last thing you remembered was trying to call for help down the mating bond and being met with silence. 

“My wings are gone,” you whispered, more to yourself than anything. Your voice was hoarse, raspy from disuse. “My wings…”

“I know. I know and I’m so sorry, Y/n. You have no idea how sorry I am,” Azriel pleaded. “Gods, I am so fucking sorry, baby. For everything. For everything I said to you. For what I’ve done. For closing off the mating bond. For not going with you to Hewn City. I am so sorry.”

You said nothing. Just stared at him. What could you say? He had cheated on you, closed you off, left you alone. You had lost your wings because of him.

“Baby, please, say something.”

“I want Cassian,” you whispered. “I want my brother.” 

“I know, just please,” Azriel cried. “Please, just talk to me. I am so sorry, baby. I am so sorry. I will do anything for your forgiveness. I will do anything to fix this.”

“Cassian,” you murmured again. “I want Cassian!”

“I know, I know,” Azriel said. “Just please tell me what I can do to fix this. I will do anything. I’m sorry for what I said. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done. I regret it so much. I’m sorry I ignored you. I’m sorry I didn’t go with you. I’m so sorry. Please just tell me we can fix this.”

You choked on a sob, turning over so you didn’t have to look at him anymore. 

“I can’t unhear your words, Azriel. I can’t forget how you betrayed me,” you cried. “And I will never be able to forget how I cried for help and you closed me off. There are some things you just can’t unsay or undo. There is no going back from this.” 

“Please,” Azriel’s voice was full of sadness and regret but all you could feel was the pain he had caused you. “That can’t be true.”

“Please, leave,” you whispered, your tears sliding off onto your pillow. “Please.” 

“I can’t, Y/n. I can’t leave you. Not like this. I love you.”

“No, you don’t,” You said, softly. “We both know you don’t. I know who you love and it isn’t me, Azriel. Now please, leave. I’m begging you. There is no going back. There is no future for us after this. Please, just leave.” 

Silence so loud, it felt like the air was screaming. There was no denying your words. Azriel might regret what he did, but it didn’t change the fact that he did it. Those words had come from his mouth. He had made a choice when he decided to fuck Elain behind your back. He didn’t want you as his mate anymore.

Maybe he never did. 

You heard Azriel sigh and stand, his footsteps retreating. The door opening and closing was both your relief and your undoing. 

[heartless-tate]

Notice me! | Azriel X Freader

summary; Azriel courting an oblivious reader.

a/n; Heyy! Just a little fic of being courted by Azriel. And you not being very aware of it. Hope you enjoy!

content/trigger warnings; knife, food, meat?, cussing, kissing, no use y/n, hint towards lust feeling, Azriel pining, Armen being sassy, FEM reader (if you’d like me to make a another post with male reader, message me!) she/her pronouns for reader, thunderstorm mention and I think that’s it. If I missed something, feel free to message me on it! 💝

word count: 3.1k. |. Part two

A plate clattered against the table causing your attention to turn to the man in front of you.

You met his gaze as he waited for you to try his new dish, his eyes seeming to shine as the sun hit his eyes. You swear he always seemed to be effortlessly beautiful. It was angering in some ways, you had even seen him wake up looking like a god. No. Better than a god. It didn’t matter if you spent an hour in the mirror, swiping various products of different expenses on your face; the result would be the same. The same boring face you saw everyday.

A wonderful smell wafted from the plate, causing your empty stomach to growl loud enough to shake the mountains. The shadowsinger smirked, pushing the plate of food closer to you with a gentleness most men didn’t have. Your face flushed with embarrassment, your hands instinctively coming to paw at your stomach, hoping it would stop. Your eyes wandered down to the plate where a meal sat.

“I haven’t made this before. I wanted you to be the first to try it.” He spoke with every ounce of grace and elegance a god would have. His hands grasped the seat across from you, pulling it out and taking a seat. His wings shifted until finding a comfortable position in the chair. You nodded in response, picking the fork up before taking in the rather- gracious portion of food he had made for you.

A ribeye steak bigger than your hand sat on the plate. Seasoning of different kinds were smothered on it, and the smell of butter consumed your senses. Your mouth watered in response. Beside it were two sides. Your favorites.

Armen smirked from where she sat beside you, watching as you lifted the steak knife and fork. You were so oblivious. She had been watching for the last few years as Azriel desperately chased after you, and you never seemed to even notice. It was amusing. He has spent hours staring at you, and you never realized. And if she pointed it out, you just assumed you had something on your face. She knew he was growing restless. Not tired of you, but tired of your complete oblivion. These days he seemed ready to scream from the top of the roof that he loved you.

Azriel’s scarred hand clutched at your wrist. He gently took the knife and fork away from you, before grabbing your plate and proceeding to cut your steak into bite sized pieces. Armen snickered from where she sat, resulting in a glare from Azriel.

“Oh- Azriel I can do that-“ You started.

“I know you can.” He responded. He didn’t give back your plate until your steak was cut into bite sized pieces for you. He watched you place the first bite of steak into your mouth.

Your eyes rolled back and you let out a hum of approval, chewing the food. The flavor was delicious, and it was quite easily the best steak you had ever tasted in your life. It wasn’t too buttery. Or too seasoned. It was just right. The meat was tender.

Azriel’s wings rustled at your hum. His face shined with pure male pride. His eyes never left you once while you chewed and swallowed. He stood, taking the steak knife that was no longer needed into the kitchen.

Armen followed after him. He sat the knife in the sink, letting the house do its magic before turning his attention to Armen.

“You’re like a love sick puppy.”

“My love life isn’t your business.” Azriel responded, his face tight. His words were low, ensuring you couldn’t hear.

“Hm. All I’m saying is your ‘courting’ isn’t going to work.” Armen said, picking at her nail leisurely. She was like a cat. Her piercing eyes watched as Azriel’s eyes narrowed at her with a scowl. Before he could comment more, Armen spoke again.

“She’s oblivious. It doesn’t matter if you fix her food, or leave her favorite pastries everywhere so she finds them, she won’t get the hint. Literally. I’m getting seasonal allergies from the amount of flowers you’ve left for her everywhere in this house.Seriously, this place is covered in flowers. Either start professing love or drop this little crush.” She growled out, walking out of the kitchen.

Azriel stayed silent before whispering,“It’s not little.”

“Yeah, don’t let me forget to grab a few early starfall gifts.” Mor said. You groaned loudly, rubbing your temples. Even the idea of her gifts made you want to cry. Her starfall gift for you these past few years have been a collection of ridiculously fuzzy socks. Every.Year.

Of course you were grateful, but everyone knew Mor’s gifts weren’t particularly good. You now had a drawer filled with fuzzy and odd colored socks.

Velaris was bustling today. Fae of all kids roamed the streets, some tending to their shops. Kids ran through the streets playing games. Everyone was out enjoying the sunny day. You and Mor decided to go shopping to pick up a few items. Your eyes wandered back down to your list, a few more candles, a book or two, and some lotion.

“Starfall gifts? I don’t think you need to shop this early for them-“

“Nonsense! It’s never too early to do gift shopping!” Mor said, cutting you off. You sighed and shook your head knowing it was hopeless to argue with her.

After a few trips to some stores, you both ended up getting lunch at Rita’s. You ordered a milkshake- apparently a new creation of a cold drink? None less, whatever they were, everyone had been going crazy over them in Velaris. And of course you also got your favorite meal. Mor ordered practically half the menu, content to eat her heart out. You didn’t blame her- food was good.

As your plates were sat down by the waitress, Mor eyed your food with a questioning look. Your eyebrows raised in confusion. “What? You’re looking at my food weird.”

“Oh. Well I’m just surprised to see you ordering a meal here. You know Azriel is gonna harp if you don’t eat his food.” Mor responded, shoveling food into her mouth as if she’d starve.

“Huh?” You countered.

Mor finished her food before rolling her eyes. She sighed deeply as if you had troubled her. “You know..” she said, waving her hands as if that would solve your confusion. When you raised your eyebrows with a puzzled face, she put her fork down.

“You know- when you eat something someone else cooked or you’re not hungry, and he’s cooked you a meal. And you refuse it- he gets all huffy and puffy! Like a broody motherhen.” She continued.

“He doesn’t even fix me food that often-“ you argued.

“Oh please! Breakfast, lunch, and dinner! Full course meal on the table for you. If only someone loved me that much.” Mor said, picking her fork back up. “Those meals weren’t from the house hun. All I’m saying is maybe you should pay more attention.”

For the rest of the meal, you both sat in silence as you pondered over her words.

Cassian laughed  as you entered from the hallway. His eyes shined with amusement as you waddled to the counter with your shopping bags.

The sound was enough to draw a curious Azriel to the room. He immediately grabbed all your bags despite your complaints, setting them on the table. He nodded at you in response when you thanked him.

“I thought you were only shopping for a few things.” Cassian stated. He stood casually leaned against the table with a drink in his left hand. Azriel stood to your left, his wings expanded. His eyes were keen and watchful. You doubted he ever missed a single detail. His skin glistened with sweat, a musky bourbon scent coming from him. Cassian’s skin was sweaty too, evidence of them training together earlier in the day.

“Well, the candle store had a buy two get five for free deal. So I bought  four and got ten for free! Cauldron I love Velaris!” You squealed, and Azriel smirked knowingly. He had taken note of your recent obsession with buying candles. Cassian shook his head.

Cassian's face lit up with surprise as you handed him two candles. “So I got one for everyone else. This one smells like leather and the other vanilla. I figured you’d like it Cas.” You continued. He nodded in thanks. You turned to Azriel.

“I got you this candle because I know you love blueberries. And this one is supposed to smell like rainy days and lightning. And this one is books and bourbon!”

Azriel’s eyes never looked down to the candles you had shoved in his arms. His eyes stayed on your face as you happily ranted about the candles. When you finished and looked back up to his face, he had a soft look. It was one you don’t think you’ve seen him use before. His eyes were soft and looked like pools of honey, and his smile was gentle.

You watched as he sat down the candles on the table and turned back to you. “They’re perfect.” He responded. He was so memorizing. You just knew whoever he ended up with would be content. You struggled taking your eyes from him.Cassian growled playfully.

“Hey! Unfair! He got three candles! I only got-“

Cassian was cut off by Mor smacking him on the back of the head as she trotted to the kitchen. She had a lot of leftovers to put away. Azriel gave him a quick glare, silencing him.

You noticed he was wearing all his leathers, and siphons. His shadows whirled leisurely around his shoulders and wings. Azriel watched as your eyes creased in confusion. He sighed. He couldn’t help but feel a shimmer of hope at the fact you had gotten him more candles than Cassian.

“Rhysand sent me on a mission, I’ll be gone for a few days most likely. I’m going to spy on the human queens and make sure all is well there.” He admitted. He watched as your face fell. You quickly smiled again and nodded. His heart thumped like a hammer in his chest. Did you care? Would you miss him like he always missed you? He wondered if you couldn’t sleep like he couldn’t when he was away from you.

“Oh. I see. Be safe.” You responded, nodding slowly. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the feeling in your chest. You had never felt it before. You wondered why all of a sudden you felt this way about him leaving.

His eyes softened even more. “I leave in an hour or two.” He whispered, head tilting to catch your eyes once more. Cassian had disappeared from the room all of a sudden, him and Mor talking loudly about dumb things in the kitchen. Leaving you and Azriel alone. “Let me cook you dinner before I leave.”

His eyebrows furrowed this time as you shook your head no. His smile dropped. He looked like a kicked puppy almost-

“I ate lunch with Mor.” You explained. Your explanation didn’t seem to comfort him as he shook his head in response.

“That was lunch. It’s time for dinner.” Azriel said firmly.

Your mind went back to Mor’s words. Pay more attention…what did she mean? What was there to pay attention to? Azriel cooked for everyone- right..? Your mind raced over your memories, trying to think of a single time you had seen Azriel set a plate down for one of the others.

“Alright then, fix me dinner Azriel.” You responded. Azriel smiled, pleased. His right wing flared, draping over your back. “Follow me.” He said, leading the way into the kitchen. His wing was warm against your back, as it guided you beside him. It was much larger than  you were, towering over your head. As you entered the kitchen, Cassian and Mor immediately scampered out shouting something about extra training.

You watched Azriel move around the kitchen in a graceful dance of grabbing pans and pots. He kept his wings tucked in, to keep them from banging against counters and tables. His hair was messy from training, or like he had ran his hands through it more then once. But it never failed to frame his face. You watched as a few shadows dart around, grabbing various spices and ingredients for whatever new dish he’d make tonight. He set a pan down on the stove before turning to you.

His scarred hands gently grasped your hips, lifting you up effortlessly. He sat you on an empty space on the counter. He huffed a laugh at your squeak of shock. He patted one of your thighs gently before leaving your side and returning to his pan.

Your face flushed with embarrassment. He had lifted you as if you weighed nothing, showcasing his obvious strength. Everytime he touched you with his beautiful hands, it felt like everything stopped. As if the world had slowed to let you enjoy the moment. Your hands wrapped around your stomach, wondering what this weird feeling that had overcome you meant.

He moved swiftly, chopping ingredients and throwing things in various pots and pans. You quickly realized by smell alone he was making your comfort food. You remembered the night a storm had rolled in. Usually thunder and lightning didn’t scare you- but this was different. The booms and flashes were intense, shaking the ground and keeping you from sleep. You had stumbled to the house library in an attempt to distract yourself. But you only found Azriel instead. He had scented your obvious distress and took action immediately. He helped you settle on the couch with cushions and blankets before asking what a comfort food was. A good 15 minutes later he returned with a plate.

You don’t remember much pass that, you just remember becoming tired and sleepily. You remember feeling warm all of a sudden and then you woke up in your bed that morning.

“It’s almost done.” Azriel spoke, bringing you back from your memories. His eyes were distant as if he too was remembering that same night.

You smiled and thanked him as he handed you your bowl and a spoon. He made himself a bowl too. He took your bowl from his hands and sat it down, before grabbing you and setting you back on the floor. His hands stayed on your hips until he was sure you were balanced. He guided you to the sitting room with a fire.

Azriel didn’t eat until you took your first bite, ensuring you liked it. And of course, you did. It was warm, and comforting, like a hug in your mouth. It soothed your soul in ways nothing else could, the flavors easing your body from any previous aches. Azriel had never made a bad meal before. You both ate in silence together, with the comforting crackle of the fire and warming food. But as the time passed, you knew it came time for him to leave.

Your bowls sat on the coffee table. Both finished. The house made them disappear, taking care of them on its own. You were always amazed by its magic.

Your head snapped to Azriel as he stood. He sighed, looking at the clock on the wall. His eyebrows were furrowed and he almost looked like he wanted to chain himself to the wall before even considering leaving. He turned to your sitting form. His shadows seemed to move more quickly and sharper around his shoulders.

“It’s time for me to leave.” He whispered. He watched as you nodded solemnly. You smiled, but he knew it didn’t reach your eyes.

“Thank you for the meal.”

You watched as Cassian hugged Azriel in goodbye, and Mor nod as her own way of saying goodbye. Azriel had taken his candles to his room earlier, before joining everyone in the hallway. When one left for more then a day, you all said proper goodbyes.

Azriel turned to you, walking swiftly. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his big biceps practically squeezing the life out of you. He practically had to hold himself back from purring when your arms wrapped around his neck in return. Everything darkened as his wings cocooned you. His wings blocked out the noises of the others, leaving just you and him. His head found solace in your neck. His scent overwhelmed your senses in a good way. Before you had time to question Azriel being touchy, Cassian yelled,

“Ok! Ok! We get it, Azriel. Let go of her before you suffocate her.”

Azriel lifted his head, and his wings dropped. His eyes stayed latched on yours. A few seconds passed before he tore his eyes away and scowled at Cassian. His teeth bared in silent warning. Cassian backed down and turned to have conversation with the others. Azriel released you from his grip.

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t starve. And I left some flowers on your nightstand. I hope you don’t mind.” He whispered to you, fiddling with his hands like a nervous school boy. Your eyes lit up and you smiled gently.

“Thank you Azriel. Goodbye.” You whispered back in response. His smile turned upside down.

“I told you, call me Az. Or whatever you want- just not my full name. We’re closer than that.” He said in a growl like tone. He watched as you nodded your head.

It was time for him to leave now. He sighed deeply. The others had gone silent watching the scene with interest. But he didn’t seem to care.

He leaned down to your height, his hands grasping at your chin. He turned your head before leaving a gentle but firm kiss on the side of your cheek. “Sleep well tonight.” He whispered before pulling away. You stood in shock at the door to the balcony, as he said his last goodbyes. He waved in an almost shy way at you before taking flight.

You stood still, flabbergasted at what had happened. Slowly your hand rose to your cheek.

Realization dawned on you- he hadn’t ever fixed food for anyone else other than you.

a/n; hope you enjoyed, let me know if you want part two! 🌙

[prythianpages]

I've Been Waiting For You | Azriel

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

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

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

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

“Who are you?”

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

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

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

Months before…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you specify which one?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

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

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

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

“Have you seen it?”

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

“Perhaps.” 

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

“How come I haven’t seen it?”

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

Back to the present…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And who might you be?"

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

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

“Your help?” She echoes.

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me show you.”

Months before…

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

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

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

“You spoil me.”

“It’s what friends do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not ready.” 

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

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

“You do not fear me?”

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

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

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

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

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

Your throat tightens. “When?”

“Soon.”

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

“The tracking…I knew of it.” 

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

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

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

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Mate. That is your mate. Azriel, the–

“Do you see it now?”

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

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

“Please don’t go,” you’re begging.

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

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

“Anything.”

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

Back to Present

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

“Release her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wake up, sleeping beauty.”

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

“You missed dinner.”

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

"That was two weeks ago.”

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

Your eyes narrow. "Did Feyre send you?"

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

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

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

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

"Why?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now feel the whispers of the unseen.”

“I can’t.” Elain’s eyebrows furrow.

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

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

“Stop!”

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

“I’m not hurting her!”

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

“Are you okay?”

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

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

"Like what?”

“Don’t make me answer that.”

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

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

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

“You’re not going to Starfall?”

“Good morning to you too.”

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

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

“Is everything okay?”

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

So you settle for a, “Why?”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll buy you one.”

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

“Starfall is tomorrow.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Splendid! What’s the special occasion?”

“Starfall.” Azriel answers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It surprises you how quickly you find your voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I li–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s 500 gold marks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So are you.”

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

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

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

“Yes, Azriel. I’ll save you a dance.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Azriel.” You smile at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

“I’m right here.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What else?” 

“There’s nothing else.”

“y/n.”

“I feel like a failure.”

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

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

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

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

“Hey, look at me.”

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

“Together?”

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

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

And finally, it seems your lonely days are through.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Elain, I can't--"

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

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

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

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

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

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

The soft flakes of snow flutter down, a delicate dance in the winter night. Despite weeks of continuous snowfall, the enchanting beauty of it never fails to captivate you. It differs markedly from the unforgiving snowstorms you endured while wandering the Night Court's forests. Though just as cold, it prompts an involuntary shiver, a reaction to the biting chill in the air.

As the door behind you creaks open, a rush of warmth accompanies its movement. The scent of cedar invades your senses, growing more intense as you feel a fabric drape over your shoulders, bringing forth an intimate warmth.

"Hey," Azriel breathes, a visible puff of white escaping his lips.

"Hi," you smile back at him, your fingers instinctively reaching for the coat that draped over your shoulders. You can't help but notice the thin sweater he wears. "Won't you be cold, though?"

Azriel stops you, securing his coat back onto your smaller frame with a reassuring smile. “I grew up in a camp where it snowed a lot more than this. I’ll be fine.”

You look back up at the night sky. The stars are shining so bright. It makes you wonder if they ever tire. They seem to answer you as their radiant beams cast a celestial glow upon you. Your vision blurs in surrender.

“What are you seeing?” Azriel inquires, curious. He hopes it's not the confession he's aching to spill.

Your eyebrows knit together, and you close your eyes, immersing yourself in deciphering the messages woven between the stars. Upon opening your eyes, you turn to Azriel, a teasing smirk playing on your lips.

“You're going to get frostbite."

Azriel lets out an amused huff. "I don't care. As long as you're warm."

"We should head back inside," you suggest.

"No," Azriel insists, enfolding a wing around your form, anchoring you in place. His shadows can sense you don't want to go back inside yet. "I like being alone with you."

The wind nips at your cheeks, a sensation you welcome as it gives the perfect excuse for the blush creeping across your face. Tearing your gaze away from Azriel before he can discern his effect on you, you quietly share, "Nyx is going to say his first word in three days."

Azriel leans forward and you can feel his anticipation. A familial bet circulates among his uncles and aunts (save for Elain) regarding what the young heir’s first word will be. “What is it?”

“Cas.”

Azriel can't resist glancing back toward the house, his eyes narrowing with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. There, he catches a fleeting glimpse of Cassian playfully hoisting Nyx in the air, the two engaged in a lively game of chase around the living room. When he turns his attention back to you, mischief twinkles in your eyes.

“You’re lying.”

“You fell for it."

And that smile he’s been longing for since he met you graces your lips as you laugh. A sweet and beautiful sound that warms the winter air. Azriel's gaze dips toward your lips, captivated by the sound, before lifting back to meet your eyes. He leans in even closer.

“I fell for you.”

You also lean in, eyes never leaving his. "The answer is yes."

"What?"

Azriel nearly stumbles back, caught off guard, but you remain close, lifting a hand and cradling his cheek. It's surprisingly warm and he instinctively leans into your touch. His eyes widen. Did you—

“To you taking me on a date,” you reveal, your smile deepening, and he swears his shadows snicker in response. “The vision I just saw. It was of me and you at a theater. Next Friday at seven.”

“Next Friday at seven,” Azriel confirms, a tender affection lighting up his expression.

The air seems to shimmer with the promise of an enchanting future. You reach out, tugging at the bond in your chest. Once again, there is only silence. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to care anymore. Not when Azriel is gazing at you as though you are the very stars illuminating the night sky.

And then you're kissing him.

The snow crunches underfoot as Azriel moves, his usually keen senses dulled. His mind is elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of you. Even as the icy missiles fly past him, Azriel remains lost in the memories of shared glances and smiles and the way your lips felt so perfect against his last night.

For the first time in years, Azriel finds himself on the losing side of the annual snowball fight. Oddly, no disappointment lingers, even after meticulous planning for this anticipated victory. All he wants is to return home—to you.

Amidst the snowy chaos, revelation strikes him simultaneously with a snowball from Rhysand. The snap, the bond—everything falls into place. It all makes sense now. Your words when you first met. Elain’s words last night at Solstice. Why your presence thrilled and delighted him. Why he couldn't shake the feeling of love and adoration for you.

You are his mate. 

The one he had been longing and pleading for, and the realization left him breathless. He shakes the snow from his face and Rhysand blinks back at him in surprise. The High Lord had been expecting a glare but he only finds pure shock on Azriel’s face.

“Oh come on, I didn’t hit you that hard,” he teases.

“I have to go.”

“If you leave, you’re forfeiting,” warns Cassian, but the glint in his eye betrays a desire for Azriel to leave, eager for a victory.

“I yield,” Azriel says mindlessly, surprising even Rhysand. Feeling his friend's talons probing his mind, Azriel throws up his shields and disappears into his shadows, abandoning the snow-covered battlefield. He'll explain later.

For now, he has to find you.

His shadows winnow him back to the River house and he doesn’t have to look for long because there you are, making your way down the last step and standing in his path. There’s not much that surprises you but that has changed since meeting Azriel and this moment is no different. Your eyes are widening, mouth parting.

“Azriel," you say. "What are you doing here? I thought you were–”

“It’s you,” Azriel interrupts breathlessly as if he was running, chest rising and falling quickly in step with the erratic beating of his heart. He’s bridging the distance between you. “All this time. It’s been you.”

You swallow thickly. “You know?”

The glimmer of hope that had ignited during Starfall returns to your eyes, revealing a world he hadn’t realized existed. How could he have been so blind?

Azriel smiles at you and it’s as if that’s the last piece to the puzzle as the bond between you both comes to life, singing loudly against your chests. He pulls you flush against him and spins you around, eliciting a delightful squeal from you. Cradling your face in his hands, he kisses your forehead, then the corners of your eyes. He saves your lips for last, lingering in the sweet taste of them for a moment longer.

“You’re my mate,” he says quietly, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Yes,” you manage to whisper back, surrendering yourself to the depths of his mesmerizing hazel eyes, just like in the vision from months ago. And it’s not you who speaks again but Azriel.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

a/n: hope you all enjoyed this (: It took me longer to write than I thought because i'm used to writing more angst for Az than fluff but I wanted this to be different. It's canon that Elain found out that reader and Az were mates through a vision around the same time she decided to give Lucien a chance. I just want them all to be happy ♡ in terms of my ABBA x ACOTAR series, I think I'll work on another one for Cas next inspired by Honey, Honey. If you'd like to be tagged, just let me know!

tagging: @hellodarling1357

if you want to read more about Az x Seer reader, I wrote a couple of bonus scenes that didn't quite make the final cut. You can read them here.

[a-court-of-fics-and-errors]

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 25

Azriel x Reader Fic

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

Find other parts here: Master List

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

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

Word Count: 3.2 K

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

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

The House of Wind was shrouded in a somber silence, its grand halls echoing with an emptiness that seemed to seep into every corner, infected by your grief. The once vibrant atmosphere, which you used to imagine was filled with the laughter and life of the family, had dimmed into a hushed stillness.

In a secluded corner, you sat on the balcony of your bedroom, the double doors slightly ajar to let in the cool evening air. The world outside was a muted palette of grays and blues, the winter sky overcast and heavy with an impending storm.

Your eyes were fixed on the distant mountains, vacant and unseeing. Your dress hung loose and wrinkled, the soft fabric draped listlessly over your frame. Your hair, unkempt and tangled, moved gently in the breeze. Your hands lay limply in your lap, fingers cold and still.

The room behind you was dim, heavy curtains drawn tight, casting deep shadows across the polished wood and rich tapestries. The bedside faelight lamp cast a dim glow that barely reached the balcony, where you had taken refuge from the suffocating silence within.

Nesta stood in the doorway to the balcony, her wool shawl pulled tightly around her shoulders, her face a mask of concern and frustration. She had watched your descent into despondency with a growing sense of helplessness, her heart aching for you. She took a deep breath and stepped onto the balcony, her heels clicking lightly on the marble floor. “Y/N?” she called gently, her voice a mix of hope and trepidation. “It’s me, Nesta. Can we talk?”

There was no response. You didn’t move, your gaze still fixed on the horizon. The gentle rustling of the distant wind and the calls of birds were the only sounds on the air.

Nesta approached slowly, her movements careful and deliberate. Reaching the corner of the balcony, she knelt beside you, searching for any sign of recognition. “Y/N, please,” she said softly, her voice breaking slightly. “Say something. Anything.”

Your eyes flickered briefly, a faint shadow of emotion passing over your face, but you remained silent. Your gaze was empty, your expression blank and unreadable. The pain in your eyes was a mirror to the anguish that had taken root deep within you.

Nesta tried again, her voice trembling slightly. “I know you’re hurting, Y/N. I know it feels like the world has ended. But you have to come back to us.”

Still, you did not respond. You were a statue with vacant eyes. Nesta’s frustration bubbled up, mingling with sorrow. She gently took your cold fingers in hers, squeezing them lightly. “Please,” she whispered, her grip tightening. “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known this would happen.”

Your expression changed slightly, a flicker of something dark crossing your face. Your lips parted, and a faint, bitter laugh escaped you. “Not my fault?” you murmured, voice hoarse and raw. You turned your head to look at Nesta, your eyes flashing with sudden anger. “Of course it’s my fault. I brought him into this. I shouldn’t have tried to run. I should have gone with him. I was a fool to think I could get away.”

Nesta’s eyes widened, taken aback by your response. “Y/N, you did escape.”

Your expression twisted in anguish, your voice rising. “I should have known better than to involve anyone else in this. I put him in danger because I was too scared to just face what I had to. If I’d—” you stammered, searching the horizon, “If I had just gone with Caelum, Kai might still be alive.”

The outburst left the room ringing with a silence heavier than before. Your chest heaved with the force of your emotions, your hands clenching and unclenching in your lap, but you didn’t cry. It was as though you had no more tears left to give.

Nesta’s hand hovered near your arm. “You did the best you could in an impossible situation,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “Kai knew the risks, and he made his choice to protect you. You can’t carry this burden alone.”

“I failed.” Your voice cracked. “I couldn’t keep him out of my head. He wouldn’t have found me if I’d been strong enough to keep him out. And now Kai’s gone because of me.” You stared at Nesta, “I ripped a family apart, stole someone’s child, because I made my problem someone else’s.”

“Y/N, please,” Nesta whispered, “You didn’t fail him. You cared so deeply for him. And he for you. He wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.”

The rain started to come down in soft patters, echoing off the marble of the balcony. There was nothing anyone could say to take the weight of the crushing guilt and sorrow you held, so Nesta just sat in a silent vigil, hoping the rain would help cleanse you of your desperation.

---

Days passed with little change. You no longer cried; the well of tears had finally run dry. Instead, you moved with a detached, emotionless grace, as if a vital part of you had been irreparably severed.

Your appearance had become a true reflection of your internal desolation. Your hair, unkempt in tangles, clothing hung looser, wrinkled and carelessly thrown on. You couldn’t care about the trivialities of your existence. Your once vibrant eyes, now dull, were shadowed by dark circles as sleep only came out of necessity.

Nesta continued to try and pull you from your abyss, but every attempt had been met with the same unseeing gaze and mechanical responses. Frustration and sorrow warred within her, a silent battle she fought each day as she watched you drift further away. The old you would have tried to reassure her she was doing enough, that she was helping, but now you just hoped that you would become enough of a burden for them to throw you out to die in the woods.

Elain, ever gentle and nurturing, tried to reach you through small acts of kindness. She would leave flowers by your bedside, brought from varying courts, their colors vibrant in contrast to your graying pallor. She brought tea and warm blankets, her soft voice offering words of comfort and hope. But your hands, cold and listless, never reached for the cup, and Elain continued to replace it day after day.

Azriel’s heart broke for you. He watched over you with a constant, aching sorrow, his eyes always filled with a deep, unspoken pain, his wings seeming to hang behind him more dull and lifeless. He would follow you through the halls, sticking to his shadows, which you learned through overhearing were some strange power he possessed, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care enough to ask more. He watched after you, always there, but never truly able to reach you.

In the evenings, when the sky outside turned a deep, mournful gray, and the first stars would appear, you would find yourself on the balcony, staring out at the world beyond the marble railing. The wind would tug at your hair and dress, its chill a distant sensation you barely registered. The vibrant colors of the city below faded out of view as the sun set.

You remained distant, as days turned into weeks, your spirit lost in a fog of grief. You no longer cried, no longer raged or lamented. Instead, you merely moved through the world like a ghost, your emotions locked away in a place no one could reach.

—---

You lay on the lounger outside on the balcony, the chill of late winter seeping into your bones. You would have felt it, had you cared enough. 

“Hey,” Azriel said again, calling out as though you might not have heard him.

You gazed over your shoulder, your eyes barely casting over the crest of your brow, sunken and purple. His face softened slightly, not expecting you to regard him at all. He smiled as he pulled at his jacket, coming over to you and kneeling, his hands gently resting on the armrests of the chair.

“Hey,” he smiled again, bouncing back on his heels.

“Hi,” you said back with a meek lilt.

Azriel leaned his head onto the back of his hands, peering up at you. “Did you hear me?” he asked, shaking the black curls from his face.

You nodded, your chin barely moving.

“So?” he asked. “Thoughts?”

You shrugged slightly. You had no intention of ever leaving this chair, this prison you had built for yourself. Brick by brick, heartbreak and failure after heartbreak and failure. This was the world that seemed fitting to waste away in, as you had wasted everyone else. To never enjoy the feeling of the sun, the comfort of others, the will to participate in a world that gave you any sense of purpose or meaning. For you to suffer a miserable, lonely demise as was fitting for the suffering of others. So you shrugged your shoulders, willing to go with him to give him a sense of fleeting happiness in his long life or to have him leave you here forever, with the hope that without enough sleep or sitting in the cold, you might finally be willing to part with yourself.

Azriel seemed to understand your meaning, smiling gently and pleading with you for a way to pull you out. He reached his hand down for yours, wrapping your ice-cold fingers with his warm hands. “I think it could be good for you,” he said softly, bouncing slightly on his heels.

You blinked slowly, trying to absorb his words, which came out as if spoken in slow motion. Azriel merely looked at you as you paused, long and drawn out. He ran his hand over the back of his chilled red nose, sniffled for a second, and then rose, your hand still in his though your arm was limp in his grasp.

“We have to try something,” he said. You had no plans of getting better.

He pulled you slightly, and your legs slipped over the side of the lounger with almost no thought. You stood, the cold deeply sinking into your feet. Your steps were wary, as you hadn’t put any thought into moving them in days, and you felt as weak as the female you were before you left your mate in the first place.

Azriel wrapped a stabilizing arm around your waist, holding you close, his body braced against yours. You felt his nose graze the crown of your head as if he were nuzzling you, though you knew it was just from that slight sniffle.

“We need to get your face washed,” he whispered, his nose finding your hair again.

You didn’t respond as you stood in front of the bathroom door. Azriel let you stand on your own as he walked in and turned on the faucet. He stared back at you, your eyes widening slightly.

Azriel reached a tentative hand out to you, summoning you with a gentle flick of his fingers. You gulped back the fear in your soul and took a step forward, your hand gliding into Azriel’s.

He gripped it tightly, pulling you closer. “That’s it,” he encouraged.

Your eyes still wide, he reached behind himself, grabbing a facial rag. He dropped your hand as he ran it under the water of the sink, turning back to you immediately as he wrung it out.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered as your eyes continued to widen. He leaned his hands in slowly, one scarred palm finding its way to your cheek, while the other ran long lines with the rag down your face. He didn’t look into your eyes, instead focusing only on the places he wiped the dirt away, as if worried that leaving any speck would mar what was underneath. You watched his methodical eyes, your own weak, tired gaze following his every move. Finally, he ran the last swipe down your face and caught you looking at him. He smiled. “Hi,” he whispered, smiling back at you, seeming so happy that you were looking at him at all.

Your gaze widened at him slightly, and you quickly looked down and away. Azriel’s smile flattened slightly as your own face fell.

“This is a great start,” Azriel noted. “Are you sure you’re feeling up for going out?” he asked again.

You shrugged once more.

“Y/N,” Azriel said. You didn’t respond. “Y/N, if you don’t want to do anything, you don’t have to,” he said. He momentarily reached his hand out to comfort you but seemed to pull back slightly as you watched his hand cross the threshold in front of you.

You merely shrugged your shoulders again. Azriel seemed unsure of how to approach the situation and scanned your face as if trying to see through your nonchalance. When he found no other answers, he just sighed slightly, setting the wet rag back onto the counter.

“We should get you a coat,” he said. As though he had summoned it from thin air, a woolen gray coat appeared. He looked it over in his hands and then handed it out to you. At first, you just stared at it lying in his palms before taking it and sliding it onto your shoulders.

Azriel gave you another slight smile, his hand reaching out for yours.

“Come on,” he said, brushing past you and out to the balcony. You walked slowly behind him, not bothering to button the coat. Azriel went to the edge and peered over his shoulder back at you. You joined him, the crown of your head barely coming up to his shoulder.

You looked down onto Velaris. Winter had seemed to give up its hold, just for a bit. Some citizens below even walked around the streets in just sweaters, and it appeared some brave gardeners were starting their soil preparations. You reached your hand out for Azriel to winnow, but he gently pushed it back.

“If you’re comfortable,” he began, “I was thinking we could fly instead.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Do what?”

Azriel flexed his wings slightly behind him, turning to look at you. “Well, only if you’re comfortable doing that.”

You tilted your head slightly. “I think I don’t understand what you mean.”

Azriel glanced over his shoulder, as though you might have missed the gigantic wings that shrouded him. “I mean fly.”

You peered around the balcony slightly.

“What?” Azriel asked.

“Is there, like, a saddle?”

Azriel’s eyes widened slightly. “A what?”

Your eyes stopped back on his, suddenly embarrassed by the question. Slightly quieter, you asked, “A saddle?”

“Why would—” Azriel stammered. “No, no, I’m just going to carry you.”

“Ohh.”

“Unless you aren’t okay with that? I just figured since winnowing gave you a headache and we don’t have anywhere in particular to be, this would be easier.”

You peered slightly over the edge of the balcony, down the steep drop of the mountainside cliff house into Velaris, where the fae were barely visible. You turned back to him, your mouth dropping from the sheer distance to the ground.

Azriel seemed to understand your hesitancy as your eyes widened at him. “I promise, I wouldn’t let you fall.”

“I would hope not,” you responded.

“I’ve done this with others before; there’s no reason to be afraid.”

You scoffed, “All of those people are still alive?”

Azriel took a second, looking up at the sky for the answer. When he didn’t immediately respond, you almost shouted, “You shouldn’t have to think about that!”

Azriel’s face flashed back to yours, “No! Everyone is still alive,” he reassured you.

You merely peered back over the edge of the balcony.

“Look,” Azriel called, and you shot your gaze back to him, “The second you don’t feel comfortable, we come right back here,” he promised. “And that means for both flying and being down in the streets.”

You gulped the fear back down and looked back at him. His hazel eyes seemed so much lighter now than they were a few days ago. He extended his hands to you, outstretched, and seemed to send a silent plea for you to take a few steps towards him. Without seeming conscious of it, you suddenly stood in front of him as he smiled down at you. He leaned down, and you placed a tentative hand on his shoulder as he swept your legs up at the knee into a hold, his hands supporting your shoulders. A light yelp escaped your lips as he lifted you, and your startled response made him chuckle deep in his chest—a warm, encouraging chuckle.

“Just say the word,” he said, and you nodded, wrapping your other arm around his neck. Without another word, Azriel’s great wings took a few warm-up flaps before his feet left the ground with a bit of a hop. You tightened into his chest, his warmth seeping through his own jacket as your heart leapt into your throat. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “We’re safe.”

You opened one eye slightly to gaze out. You hadn’t even flown to the edge of the balcony as Azriel hovered over

 the floor. You looked up to meet his gaze, and he smiled at your apparent nerves. “Remember,” he started, “Say the word, and we come back.”

You licked your lips slightly, trying to gauge if you went over that railing if you would ever be able to slow down your heart rate, but when you turned back to Azriel, you just nodded.

Azriel leaned slightly forward, allowing his wings to take some greater flaps, and then you were off over the railing. As you took in the steep drop, you shrieked lightly, the world suddenly seeming dizzy as Azriel pulled you tighter to himself. “It’s okay,” he said as he leaned forward, descending the mountain in a long glide. You found the bravery to unclench your eyes and saw the sunset over the sea, the clouds parting to let an array of oranges and reds burn across the sky. Your heart stopped in your throat, not in fear, but in awe of the beauty you beheld.

Azriel glided down, barely moving his wings at all, as you seemed to make a slow descent into the city. His arms barely flexed under your weight as he cradled you with such delicacy. The cool wind flew through your hair, and you were suddenly very glad Azriel had found you a coat. You took in the tops of the city buildings as you neared, the church bell tower steeple adorned with a small moon at the top, something you would never have seen from this angle. You wondered who else in Velaris might have the power of flight, other than Illyrian soldiers.

You turned back to Azriel, trying to watch the House of Wind getting smaller behind you, but realized that Azriel was staring at your face, smiling slightly. You then realized that your own mouth was open in awe, a smile leaking from the corners. The muscles ached after not being in use, and you quickly wiped the evidence of it from your face. Azriel just continued to smile down at you, as if seeing your smile again was a gift.

The flight was over seemingly before it started, and you could hear the ambient voices of citizens echoing as Azriel righted himself and took a tentative step down onto a metal rooftop, setting you down on your feet. When you brushed yourself off and looked back at him, he was still only looking at you and smiling.

To my readers, I am on vacation this week but am still trying to get some writing done. Just be aware in case parts are late, they are coming!

@thatacotargirl @mcuamerica @lilah-asteria @florabelll @fightmedraco @marvelbros-oneshots @mariahoedt @quinzzelx @romantasyreader28 @minnieoo @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @annabethgranger123 @krowiathemythologynerd @scatteredstardustt @romantacyreader28 @caroline-books @slytherintaco @sevikas-whore @sidthedollface2 @405rry @sleepylunarwolf @acourtofbatboydreamsoydreams @quiettuba @julesofvolterrara @skylarkalchemistmist @rhysandorian @loglady1990dy00 @darling006

[illyrianbitch]

An Evening Reunion

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Azriel comes home from a mission. You talk to him about your day, but he’s far more interested in you—and your silk nightgown.

Warnings: 18+, established relationship fluff, lil domestic moments, az coming home from a mission, reader serving cunt in a nightgown, suggestive sexual content, basically dry humping, boners, and allusions to sex

Word Count: ~ 1.6k

based on this ask!! youve done the lords work!!

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The evening was still and quiet, a content feeling lingering in the air as if the world had enjoyed its day and was happily ready to yield to the night.

It had, indeed, been a good day, a really good day. You had no complaints— except one. You missed your mate. Azriel had been so busy recently, chasing fading whispers and potential leads. He was running himself ragged, returning every night exhausted and sore. What would make today perfect for you was something you were sure would make Azriel’s day end properly— a nice, warm embrace.

Faintly, your ears picked up the sound of the door opening, a small creaking that you’d grown to love. Your heart leapt as you pushed yourself out of bed, the floor cold against your bare feet as you made your way out of the bedroom and through the hallway.

A window was open in the living room, a decision you had made earlier to welcome the beautiful weather. You had forgotten about the decision until now, until the cool breeze met your body and you shivered, nipples hardening under the thin material of your silk nightgown.

A familiar scent of night-chilled leather and something uniquely him filled the room, carried by the gentle night breeze. You took in a deep breath, letting the air and the smell of your mate fill your senses. A smile began to gnaw at your lips as you rounded the corner, eyes landing on Azriel’s form.

His wings were folded tightly against his back as he shrugged off his jacket, shadows swirling and flickering around his form like restless children. You knew that they got tired on these long missions sometimes, too. Your heart ached at the sight of two beings you loved so dearly being so evidently exhausted.

Sensing your presence, Azriel’s eyes immediately found yours, and the weariness in his face softened into a look of pure affection. His movements stilled, shadows seemingly calming, then, as if sensing his relief. Within seconds, they surged towards you, encircling you in a cool, loving embrace. You laughed softly, the sensation tickling your skin.

You smiled at your mate. “Welcome home.”

His gaze softened even further, a deep warmth kindling within your chest as he tugged on your bond— that divine, beautiful bond.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he murmured, crossing the room in a few long strides. He brought you into a quick, tight embrace, a hand placed on the back of your head as he pressed a faint kiss to your forehead.

When he broke apart with a sigh, you reached up to run a comforting hand over his arm. “Rough day?”

He shrugged, but his shoulders relaxed under your touch. “Better now.”

You gave him a sympathetic glance, brows furrowing at the tension etched into his features. You took his hand in yours, bringing it to your lips to place a kiss on his knuckles. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Azriel only nodded, a small smile gracing his lips as he followed you down into the hallway, closing the bedroom door with his heel as you pulled him inside.

Piece by piece, you helped him remove his leathers, fingers softly undoing the buckles and straps. You let out a small laugh at the motions, memories of the start of your relationship bubbling to the brink of your mind— a time where you’d struggle to remove these same buckles and straps, when you’d get so frustrated and curse both your mate and his clothing. Not that you knew he was your mate at that point, but something inside you had convinced you that he was worthy enough of the patience it took to navigate the countless aspects of his fighting leathers.

“What is it?” Azriel asked softly, “What's so funny?”

You shook your head, drawing your lips in between your teeth. “Just remembering a time when I couldn’t remove these damned things.”

Azriel let out a laugh then, too. “And now look, you’re an expert.”

You looked up to meet his eyes. “I know. Call me the mate of the century.”

He let out another small chuckle, a dimpled smile forming on his face. A wave of silence fell upon you as each piece of clothing fell to the floor with a soft clunk, a sound made from both the metal clasps and the hidden assortment of weapons inside. Picking it all up was a problem for tomorrow. You made a mental note of it and stored it away in your mind.

Azriel let out a sigh of relief as the final pieces of his armor fell away. He peeled off the rest of his clothing, leaving him in just his underwear as he took a step closer to you. You tried not to stare at the beautiful form before you, at the ripple of his muscles. Gods, it was a sight you’d never tire of.

“Come here,” he said, gently pulling you onto the bed with him. He laid back against the pillows, his wings spreading slightly to accommodate your weight as you settled yourself atop him, straddling his hips. His hands found your waist, fingers tracing idle patterns on the silk of your nightgown, a cool trail of shadows following and exaggerating his every move.

“Tell me about your day.”

You smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to his jaw. “Nesta and I walked around town for a bit. We found this little bookstore she loved. And then I baked with Elain. We made those dark chocolate cupcakes you like.”

He hummed appreciatively, hands rubbing gentle circles on your hips. “Sounds nice.”

You started to roll your hips, slowly, almost absentmindedly— a movement that you’d grown used to from other times spent in this same position. “It was. Elain sent some home for you.”

Azriel’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, his attention divided between your words and the steady, tantalizing motion of your body against his. “I can’t wait to try them.”

His fingers traced up your sides, one hand gently pushing your hair away from your neck to expose the sensitive skin to him. You shuddered at his touch, at the light brush of his fingertips. His hands were still cold from outside, and the tendrils of smoke, of shadow, that wrapped around his wrist made the feeling even stronger.

“And then we… oh,” you whispered, breath hitching as his nose brushed against your neck, face nuzzling into the crook of it. You felt the heat of his breath against your skin as he traced a path up your throat, a warm ripple of excitement running down your spine.

You tried to stay focused, asking him a question about his day and his input for tomorrow's plans. Cassian’s birthday was next week, and you and Az still had to decide on what you wanted to give him. The plan, supposedly, was to go out tomorrow and finalize your gifts. But your mate's attention seemed elsewhere. You let out a small laugh. “Az, are you even listening?”

He lifted his head just enough to meet your eyes, gaze dark with desire, pupils now blown out. “Baby,” he said, “How can I when you look so good, and smell fucking divine.”

You let out a breath as a blush crept up your cheeks, the warmth radiating throughout your body. His hands tightened on your hips as he pulled you closer, his arousal now evident beneath you, large and wanting. “No, no,” he murmured, his voice husky with need, “Keep talking.”

“Alright,” you responded quietly, but your heart was no longer in the conversation. Instead, you focused on his hardening length beneath you, at the movement of your hips and the growing heat in your stomach. Azriel’s breathing grew more labored beneath you and you wrapped your arms around his neck, drawing him closer. “And then we—”

You faltered as Azriel began to roll his hips, a whine leaving your lips as his hands slid up your back, fingers tangling in your hair. He pulled you into a searing kiss, mouth slotting over yours naturally— needy and eager.

Azriel groaned into your mouth, hands tightening around you as he urged you to continue moving against him— a request you gave into immediately, a pool of desire beginning to wet both your nightwear and his. He deepened the kiss, tongue brushing against yours, and there was a certain tremor in his muscles— a barely restrained hunger as he started to thrust up.

His hand tightened around your waist, the other sliding down to grab your ass, guiding you with a firm, insistent touch. His shadows coiled around your thighs as you parted from him, heavily breathing against his lips, “I'm getting the feeling that you’ve missed me.”

Azriel’s laugh was deep and rich, the sound vibrating through his chest as his lips remained pressed to yours. “Unbelievably so,” he muttered, capturing your lips in another hungry kiss, pulling you even closer.

You let out a sound of protest as he pulled away again, but it quickly turned into one of pleasure as his mouth trailed down to your collarbone, pressing heated kisses along your shoulder. The strap of your nightgown slipped down, baring more of your skin to his eager mouth.

"S'pretty," Az purred against your skin, fingers delicately tugging the strap down further. "I like this."

“Yeah?” Threading your fingers through his hair, you tugged lightly at his scalp, drawing his attention back to you. The intensity of his gaze sent a thrill through you and you throbbed as he ran his tongue over his lips. “Show me how much.”

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whoever sent that ask....i love u and u got me writing faster than any deadline <3

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