#dark!rhys x you

[tadpolesonalgae]

Predator and Prey[***]

Dark!Rhys x reader

a/n: Okay, so, this isn’t ‘canon’ to the Desk Pet series, it’s more like it’s set in that universe but it’s a what-if scenario! Because I read this and wanted to write a little drabble for it!!!

warnings: uh, I think it turned into angst? It’s not written to be sad, but you might read it as sad? Um, anyway, Rhys doesn’t die, he’s fine, it just cuts off dramatically. Enjoy! :) (also, reference to past noncon, please be careful)

word count: 2,638

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Velaris. 

The city of Starlight. 

Home to the High Lord, and rumoured to be a haven for dreams. 

A place to rest and recover, where the colours shone brighter and the air tasted crisper. Where sleep was no longer a restless resignation but settled over its citizens fully, a night to guarantee fresh minds in the morning, relieved of aching joins or a heaviness to their eyelids. Where even the sun shone brighter, and the moon appeared like a silver coin in the sky, starlight glittering like dewdrops on a cobweb caught in the early morning light. 

And it was true—any occupant would gladly testify to Velaris’ strangely healing nature, the rare beauty that painted the streets colourful and full of life, that had the denizens struggling to remain in a foul mood for long, but then something strange happened. A small change that caused the eventual death of that wonder and healing safety. Few details were given, but it was clear something had happened. Something detrimental to the Court’s well-being. 

And one by one, the stars began winking out. 

It started with a curfew—no citizens were permitted to roam the streets past midnight, and were required to remain indoors until the sun broke across the horizon. 

Then the darkness started to feel thicker; heavier. Gone were the clear nights; the twinkling stars. Instead they were replaced with cloying shadows, a tension that wound its way through the streets and scratched slowly at doors. Searching. Hunting.  

Then at last came the beast itself. 

No one had ever seen it, but to deny its presence would be pointless. They could all feel it, they had all noticed the weight that descended across the city, the clawing tension that tightened skin and had throats constricting. No one knew what would happen if they disobeyed the curfew, what would happen if they ventured out into the night to seek out the thing that had swallowed their beloved starlight whole. 

Except you. 

————

It’s been less than a month since you escaped his bruising touch, the sharp bite of his teeth. 

Less than a month, and your body still aches with phantom pains that blister and swell as though his talons are still raking gently through your mind, plucking at your pain to keep you under his thumb. 

The cool night air is like a balm to your skin, burning hot from anxiety as the clocktower strikes twelve, and the few lights that had been illuminated are snuffed out. You watch from the small attic window as the darkness unfurls, rising from the cobbles, giving the unshakable impression that it never truly leaves but rather temporarily sinks below the floorboards, just waiting to slink out and drag you down into the earth. 

It’s why you’ve kept to sneaking into deserted attics rather that hiding out in garden sheds. 

You don’t want him to be able to find you. 

Just a few more days, that’s all you need, and you’ll be out of Velaris for good. You can worry about what you’ll do after once you’re out, for now you just need to make it past that last house. 

You’ve managed to scout out a couple nearby and have picked the one you’ll stay in for your last night. Then first thing in the morning you’ll be free. As soon as the sun breaks over the horizon, you’ll run and never look back. 

————

Your heart is pounding in your chest, wild and alive as you spring through the undergrowth, bag on your back weighed with enough to keep you going healthily for a day or two, but you’re out! 

The air tastes different, clearer and purer. Even the ground feels different, more secure in some way and you’re struck with the urge to remove your shoes and feel the grass beneath your bare soles. It’s been so long since you’ve been out in the woods that shroud the outskirts of the city, and emotion swells in your chest. 

But you don’t have time for that yet. You’re onto your next task, escaping the court as a whole. 

You’re familiar with the territory—maps were easy to locate in his study, and easier still to pluck from a draw before leaving. 

As far as you can tell you have three options that you’ve been running through ever since you made it into that last house. Option one would be the swiftest escape but also the most likely to get you caught: escaping by sea. Velaris isn’t far from the coast and you could likely make it on foot in a day and a half if you pushed yourself, but the docks would be busy and you don’t doubt he’ll be keeping an eye on them. And with his daemati powers you’d be easily recognisable to anyone he’s commanded to pull you from the ships on sight. 

Option two is to make your way southeast down to the Day Court boarders. Once you’ve crossed, safety won’t be assured but you’ll be a hell of a lot more protected than remaining in his territory. But it will take time and you aren’t sure you can afford to risk such delayed escape. It won’t be long before he begins searching further than Velaris, and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to sneak into houses unfamiliar to you which would mean being outside overnight, which will guarantee your capture. 

Option three: you remain in the Night Court and hope for him to grow bored or restless. Wait for him to make a move and reveal his cards. The last option and least favourable, one you’d only pick if the first two were ruled out for some reason. It’s a last resort—you don’t want to spend a second longer in his territory more than you absolutely must. 

Of the three, the safest would probably be to trail down the coast for the swiftest path but it’s true he might predict that, in which case you should muddle your route—keep more inland and go that way, stopping from town to town and slowly making your route South. 

Yes, that has to be the right choice. 

————

He hears the voices around him but is paying no attention to their flurried chatter, useless and completely unaware of the real problems, concerned only with menial issues that will solve nothing important. 

His violet eyes are blank as usual, expression cold and unreadable as the meeting proceeds, watching from somewhere far behind his eyes as mouths move, hands raise in gestures of outrage and demand, postures folded into defensive positions when they’re targeted. His mood darkens—how they manage to occupy themselves so fervently, how they manage to swell such unseemly waves of emotion over such meaningless topics, it’s waring his temper dangerously thin. 

It’s been nearly a month since she disappeared from his life, vanishing from the house he’d kept for her and running out into the night. He still remembers the strange emptiness he’d felt when he’d returned, tired and worn out, seeking nothing more than to fall into bed with her. Nothing more than to inhale her scent again, to feel the soft shape of her body as it slots against his own, hear the quiet noises of her breath as she tries to keep it from hitching whenever he reaches for her. The tinge of fear in her scent whenever he approaches, or the flash of terror then rage that passes behind her eyes so swiftly it leaves him slightly breathless. 

He had thought she was warming up to him. That the lack of protest had been promising, and that the steady disappearance of resistance had meant she was beginning to forget. And he had responded to that by granting her more freedom—not much, but she had access to the gardens—and being that small bit less forceful in his touch. 

Resurfacing into the current reality, the voices swarm at his mind, loud and grunting as they argue themselves in circles. 

He had been close last night, had caught her scent on the ledge of a window near the outskirts of his city, but it had been faint and days old. She will have likely made it out into the forests by now. 

Darkness unspools across the floor, his mood seeping into the room as tension spreads itself across the table, tightening around the council’s throats. 

He needs to find her soon. For her to be out in the woods, alone and near nightfall. If something happens to her…

The faelights fail, flicking softly before they wink out, and the chamber falls into silence as the absent darkness at last finishes plying the life from their bodies, at last allowing silence to settle. 

————

The boarder isn’t far now, but your heart is pounding so hard from running you’re worried he’ll be able to hear it in the few seconds it takes to inhale. 

He’s much too close for your liking, and one wrong move… 

He’s relentless in this hunt, stalking your steps as he prowls after your scent, tracking you how he’d been raised to, following the signs you’re unable to hide in the spare moments your magic deactivates. You’re lucky you’d had no reason to use it after Amarantha’s fall. 

It’s been a while since you’ve handled it, but you can temporarily go invisible to hide yourself from sight. A handy trick certainly, but it wouldn’t be enough to get past him on its own. Which is why you’re thankful for its one step further. 

For the duration you can hold your breath, it’s as if you don’t exist. You can run through the brush, step on as many twigs as you like and no one will hear. Can sidle up to birds and other creatures without them even noticing you. Even your scent is covered. Were it not for this, you wouldn’t have stood a chance of escaping. 

And yet between those breaths when you resurface into reality, he’s able to sense you. An acute awareness he’s pinned onto you that alerts him of your movements in those bare seconds. 

The darkness swarms to the position you’d been not even a minute before, and your heart stops when you spot the silhouette that’s prowling through the shadow. Tall and intimidating, perfectly cut lines stark against the inky blue of the night sky, able to make out the locks of blue-black hair that glint like raven’s feathers beneath the sliver of moonlight. 

Terror filters through your blood as he calls your name, pausing at the foot of the tree you’d been at, glancing at the ground before his violet eyes skim the surrounding area. 

Nails dig into your palms when his attention pauses on you, watching the darkness between the trees that you’re hidden in, brows narrowing ever so slightly. 

It’s impossible. There’s no way for him to know where you are. Your scent is covered, and noise you make is absolutely annulled, your presence itself entirely smothered, so how? 

You don’t waste time considering it—how sharp his senses must be—keeping your breath held as you dart away, running for your life through the darkness of the woods. The boarder of Day is still far off, there’s no way you’ll be able to reach it before the sun rises. 

He’s going to find you. 

He’s going to take you back. 

Your lungs are burning, and you’re forced to yield another gasping breath before returning into that invisible pocket that’s keeping you separate from him. 

In that one second you feel as he shifts, the immensity of his power concentrating to the space not even three steps behind you, and your legs fumble, giving out from terror at how close he’d come. 

You flip onto your back, scrambling away, heart pounding as he stands there, violet eyes practically glowing in the dark as he scans the surrounding area. 

You aren’t going to escape. He’ll find you with the next breath. 

Your heart stutters, pulse spiking as your trembling fingers brush the hilt of the blade at your side. 

At a normal pace you can last about four minutes, five if you’re patient and concentrating. Now, with the panic set in, the wild flutter of your pulse, you have a minute and a half. Two at most. One-hundred and twenty seconds to figure out what to do with the blade at your side and the male stood before you, blessedly unaware that you’re crumpled on the floor two strides from his feet. 

It’s simple once you think about it. 

You have a blade, and he’s unable to sense you. 

You can kill him. Or at least incapacitate him.

The realisation shocks through you, hands tightening around the hilt of the blade, banishing the tremble from your fingertips as you shakily get to your feet, standing before him as violet eyes search for a hint of your presence. 

Again your heart stutters as he somehow looks straight at you, watching the space exactly before him that, to all of his senses, should be empty. And yet. 

You look at him silently, blade grasped tightly in your hands, and you can imagine how it will feel to slide the steel up through his ribs. Even if he is High Lord, even if it’s Illyrian steel and not ash, it will be enough. 

His brows narrow almost imperceptibly, hands removing themselves from his pockets and your stomach clenches as he takes a step forward. 

It’s all you need to get you moving, your feet shoving against the ground as you run at him, pulling the blade back, allowing the breath to slip past your lips as you inhale sharply to give your muscles the air they need to stab the blade up into his chest. 

Violet eyes go wide as you appear before him, moonlight glinting on steel a fraction of a moment before it cuts clean into him, sliding through his ribs and piercing his heart. Your lip is curled, hands shaking around the hilt, fingers trembling where blood is dripping down, features twisted into an expression of frightening fury. 

Has he done that to you? 

The momentum combined with the agonising pain knocks him back, your own strength so focused on forcing the blade as deep into his rotted heart as you can that your legs give out with him, bodies falling together, crushing into the ground as his arms wrap around you. 

Disgust crawls across your skin and you think you might be sick, but you keep one hand wrapped around the hilt of the blade, meeting his horrifically familiar violet gaze as you manage to twist the steel in his chest. His features contort in pain, hot liquid burning against your palm as it saturates through the fine material of his clothes, sinking into your sleeves. 

Breath pants from his lips as he tries to steady his breathing, and you brace for whatever fury he’ll unleash upon you, already making to inhale again in order to escape, but his arm has wrapped around the base of your spine, his palm cupping your jaw so he can look at you. Violet seems to almost shudder, and you can hear the frantic pulse of his heart, skin already paler than seconds before. 

You freeze beneath that look, body paralysed at the familiar softness to his irises. How he’d look at you before…everything. 

Blood pushes from between his lips, colouring his teeth a raw red as life leaks from the wound you’ve made and it looks like he’s trying to speak. 

His hand slides from your cheek to the back of your head, settling gently down as he pulls you to his chest, a look like relief on his pained features. 

“You’re back,” he breathes, fingers stroking across your hair. “You’re back.” 

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general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria

rhys taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

[divinemare]

✧*̥₊˚‧☆ﾐ 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝖙𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖘!¡ •ଓ.°

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ azrielxfem!oc

part eleven

TW: smut

𓆝 𓆜 ––––———–––––———–┊⁀➷

Kallistrade looked out over the horizon, once a battlefield, now the memory of a victory.

But her heart did not feel victorious, did not feel the glory that her crew mates and fellow pirates celebrated. Instead she waited, and waited, and waited.

She stretched her departure until only the Night Court remained, the others retreating to their respective territories, stretched her departure until Rhysand came to say goodbye, until Feyre wrapped her in an embrace, and told her she would always have a place on their table, until Cassian and Mor shedded a tear or two as they said goodbye, until Amren gave her a knowing look, until Nesta Archeron came forward to say that it had been a pleasure to meet her, and that she hoped this wasn't the last time they would see each other, until Elain Archeron told her that she couldn't wait to hear more stories of mermaids and sea monsters, and until Azriel showed no sign at all, not a whisper of a shadow, nothing.

“Captain, are we waiting for something?” Maddox asked behind her.

Pirates were already growing tired of being here, and she knew she couldn’t stretch her departure any longer.

“No. Nothing. Set the sails, we are going home.”

𓆉｡˚ ✧

She was heartbroken, to say the least. Had she had a moment to cry, she would’ve done so until she felt her insides dry, but the left overs of the war left her so busy day and night that she had no time to show an ounce of the pain that awoke everyday within her.

But maybe she deserved that pain, maybe she deserved everything that had happened, the fact that her mate had fallen for someone so opposite of her, so far from what she was. She deserved all of it, after all, she left him first, she ran away and didn’t look back, she hurt him first, she left his heart broken first.

Still, it hurt like a mother damn bitch.

Kallistrade spent her days doing accounts, repairing expenses, paying tribute to the fallen, conducting funerals and reassembling her city. She had not had a single moment to sit and think, and when night came, she was so tired that sometimes she did not even make it to her bed, but fell asleep at her desk or wherever she was. Elijah had been carrying her to her bed every time that happened, which saved her from waking up with pains in her neck and back.

Now, in her messy and disastrous office, Kallistrade was having a deep discussion with one of her reconstruction managers about the name of the tavern that had been destroyed by Hybern in their attack. For the fifth time that week.

“For the last time, Salomon, the tavern is not going to be called ‘Didy Big Tiddies’, if you want to change the name, go speak with the fucking owner, not me. Now get out of my office before I carve those lyrics into your flesh with my knife,” she said with a sigh, with her face in her hands trying to scrub away the sleepiness.

She heard the door close, and let out another loud, tired sigh, throwing her head on the table on her arms. A few papers, from the ton sitting in her desk, fell to the floor, and Kallistrade groaned at the thought of having to get up to pick them.

She had a meeting in half an hour with the other Lords, and she hadn't finished half her work yet.

Cauldron fucking boil me, she cursed in her head.

“Didy Big Tiddies? Sounds rather inviting.”

From all her tiredness she had almost fallen asleep right there, and did not feel the presence in her office until it spoke in a dark, amused voice.

A voice Kallistrade knew, a voice that made her lift her head from the table like a spring, that dispelled her sleep and replaced it with surprise and uncertainty. A voice that belonged to...

“Azriel,” she was out of breath, out of coherent words, she didn't even know if what she was seeing was real, or a product of her tiredness coming to the point of hallucinations.

But her heart...no, her heart was beating too fast, too hard for this to be a hallucination.

He stepped out of the shadows, his muscular arms crossed over his equally muscular chest, a sly grin in his devilishly beautiful lips, his honey kissed eyes flaring with amusement and something else. “Before you ask how I got here-“

“You’re very good at your job. Yeah, I know,” Kallistrade stood up from her desk, her mouth suddenly too dry and her eyes twinkling with uncertainty, still not 100% sure that Azriel was there, in front of her.

Azriel, reading her thoughts precisely, sent shadows to her side, to touch her skin delicately, to caress her hands, to confirm that it was him, there, in her office. The realization of that moment hit her like a stream of cold water, waking her up completely.

“Is everything ok? Did something happened? I’m sorry if I haven’t been able to check any letters, it must have gotten lost in these terrible sack of papers, I really ought to-” she started to panic, thinking that perhaps, her family was still in trouble.

“Lis,” Azriel tried to interrupt her, getting a step closer, but the sudden rush of energy made her go into a frenzy.

“I cant even find my own knifes in these place, is seriously out of-”

“Kallistrade,” he gave two steps closer this time, raising his voice just a tiny bit, not angry, but amused, and finally make her stop talking and look him in the eye.

“Everything is ok in Prythian, you haven’t missed any letters begging for aid, don’t worry.”

Confusion took over her features, and her lips moved momentarily and slightly to the right, Azriel recognised the movement immediately, and had to take a deep breath. She had always done that little thing whenever she was confused or overwhelmed. There weren’t any soft features in her face now, but, still, it was the same grimace he had always considered endearing, even with its wickedness now.

“Oh, then, what are you doing here?” She asked trying not to sound too shaky, crossing her arms over her chest.

Azriel gave another step closer and raised an eyebrow, amused, what the hell was amusing him so much?

“Can’t I come visit a friend? I always wondered how the famous pirate citadel was, I’ve heard so many dreadful stories, I’m actually surprised to say it’s a decent place.”

“Yes, well, I might be a pirate, but I still like clean streets and pretty cities, these place was a hideous mess before I became High Pirate Lady, my first action as it was to renew the whole damn island. Poor rats were giving to the sharks but, we have had less sickness since,” Kallistrade lifted a shoulder and shifted her weight in one leg.

Azriel looked her over, as if assessing all and each of her little movements, peeling off her layers one by one and getting to the bottom of her real uncertainty.

Fucking spymaster abilities.

“What would the pirates have done without you,” he smirked, and she, letting go off a little bit of her tension, smirked back.

“Die of terrible infections, I’m sure,” silence followed, and Kallistrade took a deep breath, straightening her back to its full length, and looking Azriel over, assessing him too. She wasn’t a spymaster, but she had learned a thing or two of him in the past, and she was done with the bullshit now. “What are you doing here, Azriel, really. I…I’m really busy, these place needs a lot of fixing after Hybern tried to wipe us out, and I have to take care of the damages of the war-”

“Kallistrade, stop, will you? Just…shut up,” he gave a final step closer, now so close she could feel the cold rush of his shadows against her skin, and admire the specs of gold in his hazel eyes. Her breath got caught up in her throat, and she cursed herself internally.

“I can’t do this, Azriel, you should go back to Velaris, with Elain, and…and I…just please, go back to her,” she tried to back away, to get far enough away from him so that she no longer had to smell his fresh scent so close to her, altering her senses and making her stupid heart race with every breath.

“No,” he said simply, face grim with utter seriousness.

“Azriel, I’m am busy, I- ”she tried to protest again, but his shadows rush to her to shut her up. Literally shut her up. She fell silent, and looked at him with disbelief.

“You owe me this, Kallistrade, so just let me say what I came here to say. You. Owe. Me. This,” he was so serious, that even his shadows stiffen. She swallowed, and nodded with an awaiting, and a little annoyed look.

“Yes. Elain is very beautiful. Yes she’s sweet. Yes she’s loving. And yes she’s perfect.”

Kallistrade rolled her eyes, backing away from the shadows enough for her to be able to speak, and crossed her arms with a disbelief eyebrow raised.

“Wow, was that supposed to make me feel better or to make me feel more miserable? Because if you were aiming for the second option, congratulations, you did it spectacularly, but you should have saved all that trouble traveling and simply write it in a letter,” he shot her an exasperated look, and rubbed his scarred hands through his face. Kallistrade’s challenging expression did not falter.

“Will. You. Shut. Up? Just for one second, stop talking, please. Don’t say another word for one. Fucking. Second.”

“Blimey, ok, I guess you cannot make me feel worse,” she rolled her eyes again, but waited for him to continue.

“As I was saying, she is perfect and I did liked her a lot.”

“Oop, I was wrong, there it is, would you like a knife to finish me off? I have plenty lost on my desk,” this time, he didn’t bother giving her dirty look, he straight up sent his shadows to shut her up again, and she huffed a breath that almost, almost made him smile.

“I did liked her. But I liked her because she reminded me of you,” at her very deep frown, he sighed, trying to look for the right words, he wasn’t a male good with words, and Kallistrade was making it damn hard, she always did. “The old you, I mean, the one I first fell in love with. I hadn’t realized it before, until the battle, when you left, but I was…I was projecting you in her, that’s why I found it so easy to like her, to think that, perhaps, I could fall in love with her,” at her expression, he knew she was about to interrupt him even as his shadows were covering her mouth, and gritted his teeth in response, raising an eyebrow. “Do not. Interrupt me,” she rolled her eyes, and Azriel could read her response clearly in her eyes.

“Blimey, relax a bit,” he tried not to smile again, her pirate phrases, now those were catching up on him. He forced himself to continue, then, before she got the urge to interrupt him again.

“That’s the most fucked up part of it all, that I could have never have fallen in love with her. Because yes, she reminded me too much about the first version of you I fell in love with, but that’s the thing, you made me fall in love then, and you made me fall in love again now. You are the only damn person who could make me learn to love again, to make me fall in love again with you once and twice and thrice and Mother knows how many times could I fall in love with you, every version of you.”

Kallistrade was speechless, unable to think coherently or speak coherently. When Azriel noticed her stunned look, he removed the shadows from her mouth, which was open and completely dry.

Her heart gave an exalted leap and she had to blink several times to convince her brain, and her heart itself, that Azriel had said those words, and she wasn't imagining any of it.

“I don’t want perfect, Kallistrade, you were never perfect, and the Mother knows I’m far away from perfect. But I can’t imagine someone I would rather fall in love with a million more times other than you.”

There was silence for a long moment. A moment where Kallistrade considered all his words, all the weight of his words. She searched for hints of falsehood, but found only truth in his beautiful hazel eyes.

Azriel watched her expectantly, waiting for a response, and it took Kallistrade a couple of minutes longer than she was proud to admit to remember how to speak correctly.

“Oh, something tells me that you are really going to regret those words, because you’ll need more than a million times,” she raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to retract. But he didn’t, instead smirking and lifting a hand to her face, cupping it and brushing a thumb in the space between her jaw and her cheek.

“Then it’s good I have an immortal life to fall all the way back in love with you. As many times as needed.”

Finally, she smiled, a little wickedly, a litter softly, letting the tension slip away from her shoulders and leaning in his touch.

Oh Mother, how she had missed his touch.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist my irresistible charms,” she joked in a low, playful tone, and Azriel’s deep, horse laugh reverberated in her, causing an electric tension to go up her body.

A dark, lust and hungry look settled on Azriel’s eyes that made her entire body shiver in need of more his touch.

“Oh, I’ll enjoy ripping every inch of confidence in your pretty twisted eyes until you can only but scream my name.”

Kallistrade huffed a moan when his mouth hit hers in desperate hunger. There was nothing tender in the way they started kissing, only pure, wild need that had been accumulating for five centuries led their mouths into a frenzy. Kallistrade’s back hit her desk, and Azriel groaned, still in her mouth, throwing everything on top of the desk to the ground with a swift movement of his shadows.

Kallistrade laughed, and parted momentarily to look at him with an amused raised eyebrow.

“You’ll definitely have to clean that up later, it cost me a shit ton of work to get through that paperwork,” as if she cared of paperwork right now, but it was fun to mess with him, especially when his eyes darkened in a hunger beyond reason.

“Shut up,” he laughed slightly, attacking her mouth with the hunger of a starving male again.

Azriel forced her legs open with one movement of his own, positioning himself between her legs and kissing her so eagerly that soon they were both panting.

Kallistrade quickly shed her boot, the pair of shoes causing a clatter as they fell to the ground, and with extremely skilled hands, Azriel untied the wine-red band tied around her waist, her belt, where the daggers and weapons strapped to it fell to the ground causing a greater clatter than that of her boots, metal on metal clanking as they fell to the ground. Her trousers soon disappeared as well, giving the male full access to her entrance. Only her laced underwear was in the way of her extremely wet cunt.

Kallistrade gasped as Azriel lowered his kisses from her mouth to her jaw, then to her neck, while his hands caressed her legs, fiddling with her senses before touching her wet underwear.

“Fuck, Lis, already? You’re dripping wet,” his voice was a huff of ragged breath, so dark, so deep, it made her insides curl with desire.

“Don’t act like you’re not all hard already, I can practically feel it pushing in your pants, you’re as desperate as I am, so shut up and fuck me now, would you?”

A deep laugh had her moaning while feeling his hands rub her cunt through the fabric of her underwear.

“Your wish is my command, Captain,” he smiled devilishly against her ear, kissing her love with such sweetness it made her melt into his touch.

Then a gasp, followed by a moan, erupted from her mouth as Azriel slipped his hand into her underwear and pressed his fingers against her clit.

"I remember how loud you used to be, Lis, now I'm going to make your throat hurt from screaming,” and not falling short of his promise, Azriel inserted a long finger into her entrance first.

Kallistrade clung tightly to his shoulders as he inserted the second, moaning in his ear as he began to pull them in and out at a painfully slow pace.

Desperately, she tried to move her hips closer to him, but the male laughed, and stopped his finger movements, making her protest in despair.

"How desperate. You're going to have to put up with it, because I've waited 500 years for this, and I'm going to enjoy every second you spend begging me for more.”

“Fuck you,” she breathed, unable to process thoughts coherently.

“I’m gonna let you do that, better.”

In response, Kallistrade ripped the top of his Illyrian leathers open, pulling it off with his help, and admiring the utterly god-like figure the male in front of her had.

Fucking Mother above, this male was gorgeous beyond logic.

His scars, his bronze skin, his muscular shape…Kallistrade could very well come by merely looking at it.

She smiled devilishly, and ran her hands all over his chest, stopping at his shoulders and looking into those hungry eyes, his fingers still inside her, before gently moving her hands to his wings, where she remembered, they were most sensitive.

Azriel's surprised moan was like music to her ears, her cunt dripped wet only at the sound.

“Two can play this game, and I’m all in for making you scream my name, too.”

At that, Azriel plunged his fingers even deeper into her, making her moan again, and while Kallistrade caressed his wings, he shamelessly thrust his fingers in and out, and when he strayed rubbing his thumb against her clit too, she could not stand it any longer, moan after moan after moan, putting her hands at her back in the desk so she could angle herself further into him, and let him finger-fuck her until the release inevitably came like a storm of mind-blowing pleasure. Her loud moan became a ragged breath when he took his fingers out of her, and kissed her mouth deeply, his tongue brushing against her lips and eating up her shaky breaths entirely.

“That was one, love.”

Fucking Mother above, one of…Kallistrade didn’t even wanted to think how many orgasms Azriel was aiming for.

He moved to try and take her top of, but the laced corset was making it difficult. He muttered a curse, and grabbed her ass to haul her off the desk. He carried her while kissing her deep into the nearest wall where she crashed her back. A moan escaping her at the hard contact. He left her on the floor again, and with a swift move of his hands, he had her back pressed against his front, her ass caressing his hard dick.

Kallistrade bit her lip at the contact, and could only imagine how it would feel back inside of her after all those centuries. Fucking magnificent, for sure.

He unfastened the corset so quickly and skillfully that the black piece of clothing fell to the floor in seconds. Without turning it over, Azriel unbuttoned her white long-sleeved shirt, which ended up next to her corset moments later. With her back still to him, he cupped her breasts in his two hands and squeezed until she groaned in pleasure. Her nipples were hard as fuck, and he took every advantage of them while he played them in his fingers. Kallistrade was a hot mess of groans, that only intensified whenever he would shift slightly and his cock will brush harder against her ass. Then a hand left one of her breasts, and returned to her cunt again. A low moan escaped her, and Azriel groaned against her air.

“Fuck, I love how you sound with my hands all over you.”

“I…” she breathed, but with his fingers making circles in her clit, it was almost impossible to think. “I want…” she tried again, but failed, instead moaning when he hit a sensitive spot.

“You want what? Say it,” his dark, husky voice against her ears made the pleasure travel farther in her body.

“I want…to feel you…inside of me…” she pleaded, her eyes closed with burning pleasure.

“Oh, you do? How badly?” She moaned in response, forgetting how to talk and answer back. But he took the hand that had been attending her nipple to her throat, and made her head fall back into his shoulder. “How. Bad. Kallistrade. Say it.”

“Fucking…bad…Fuck…” she moaned again. “I want you…very…fucking…b-bad.”

Azriel smiled darkly, and slowly bit and licked her neck while he worked his trousers off. Kallistrade heard them fall into the ground, then, with no anticipation, as she was still with her back pressed to him, he turned them both around, the desk now in front of her, and bent her over, making her have to grip the edge of the desk.

Then, with no warning, he was pushing deep into her. A loud, erupting moan came out of her, tears of pleasure streamed down her face ones. And they both waited a moment until she adjusted to the great length until he became thrusting in and out with a carnal rhythm.

Fuck, that wingspan thing was not wrong. He was fucking huge.

He gripped her waist hard, a bruise would definitely be there tomorrow, but the only thing Kallistrade could feel as he went in and out, in and out, was mind-blowing pleasure making her moan lauder and lauder.

She hadn’t realized how much she had missed his touch, his length inside of her, filling her with it, until that very moment. But fuck had she never felt this way with any past lover, no matter how many of them there had been.

No one could fuck her like Azriel, no one could make her feel like Azriel. The realization scared her, but filled her with deeper, more grateful pleasure as well.

“Fuck, Az,” she moaned, her second release so close she couldn’t contain her sounds anymore.

He knew it too, and used his fingers to rub her clit and drive her closer and closer to the edge. Until she finally erupted again, her whole body shuddered with the force of the orgasm and she bit back a scream of pleasure when it came. He followed through seconds later.

“Two, love,” he breathed shakily in her ear.

That was two, and her legs were already shaking.

He let her catch her breath, before pulling out and turning her around to face him. He ran a hand delicately over her face, brushing aside a lock of hair and admiring her for a moment, his eyes shining with feelings Kallistrade could not name, only feel in her own chest. He smiled tenderly, and lifted her by her legs with a gentleness he had not used until now, to carry her to the untidy bed on the other side, passing her office chamber, into her personal chamber, and placing her on the mattress with extreme gentleness, laying on top of her with his elbows supporting his weight.

Kallistrade marveled in his presence for a moment, running a hand on his cheek, admiring his mesmerizing eyes, the ruffle of his messy black hair, and simply absorbed the moment, carving it into her memory for eternity.

Everything that had happened until now, everything they had endured, together and apart, every heartbreak and goodbye, it all had been worth it for that very moment. They kissed, softly and lovingly and with no rush at all, savoring in each other with utmost detail.

Before, of course, Azriel went back to breaking her in every position he found. They went for two more orgasms, and once Kallistrade was done, there was no force on earth that could take this moment away from her, even if her legs shook with intensity and her heart hammered against her chest, promising a difficult time standing up tomorrow.

𓆉｡˚ ✧

Kallistrade had already missed her meeting, that was for sure, but with all the noise she made…well, she was sure they already knew why.

After all that, they laid down in her bed, tangled up in an embrace, while catching their breaths.

“Finally Cassian will not be drunkly crying on Starfall telling me he don’t want me to die without finding my mate, or a lover.”

Kallistrade’s eyes, formerly closed, snapped opened while she untangled herself from Azriel’s arms and pushed up in her elbow to look him in the eyes.

“Wait, you-“

“Of course I knew it, I’m a spymaster, love,” he laughed, glee flashing in his eyes, Kallistrade couldn’t help but roll hers and tighten a sly smile.

“Ok, now who’s the egocentric one?”

“Will you shut up now and let me kiss you?” He didn’t wait for a response, he prompted in one elbow as well and kissed her deeply again.

The kiss lasted as long as their lungs could hold out, but as they broke apart, when Azriel wanted to go for more, Kallistrade pulled away slightly, making him frown. They both sat down better, and Kallistrade fought the urge to swallow hard and show any nerves.

“So…does this mean that…do you…” She cleared her throat, annoyed at not finding the correct words.

“Do I what,” Azriel raised an amused eyebrow, and Kallistrade resisted the urge to hit that brow back down.

“You know,” she insisted, exasperated.

“Say it,” Azriel cupped her face in one hand and murmured in her lips.

“Do you accept the…” she licked her lips, and took a deep breath before putting her shit together. “The mating bond?”

“Oh, Mother,” he put his head in the space between her neck and her shoulder, an sighed, staying there.

“What?” She asked, a little nervous that he had maybe changed his mind.

“Nothing, I just waited so many centuries to hear that, I need a minute to convince myself you truly said it.”

Kallistrade let the tension in her shoulders loose, and laughed slightly, rubbing a hand through Azriel’s silky hair.

“Will it help if I say it again?” She asked with a smile still on her lips. He only nodded, not raising his head from her shoulder yet. “Do you accept the mating bong?”

“Say that again, please,” he murmured, his hot breath caressing her skin, as did his shadows with a tenderness it made her heart feel full.

So she smiled, and soften her fingers in his hair even more, whispering in a loving way against him, a sly smile still in her mouth.

“Would you, Azriel Shadowsinger, Spymaster of the Night Court, oh brave and mighty Illyrian warrior, accept the mating bond with me, Kallistrade Lanrcha, Mistress of the Sea, High Pirate Lady, oh mighty and dreaded Captain Devilsbane?” Azriel raised his head from her shoulder, and smiled while shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

“You are awfully dramatic.”

“Well do you or do you not!” She pressed, suppressing a laugh.

“Of course I do,” but she raised an eyebrow, and he sighed. “Of course I do, Kallistrade Lanrcha, oh mighty and dreaded Captain Devilsbane, High Pirate Lady and Mistress of the Sea,” Kallistrade smiled, please.

“Perfect! Now…I have nothing I could offer you to eat, I have barely eaten in two days myself, so…could I offer you some rum? Or bourbon, I reckon you like more fancy things, does liquor even count, tho?” She eyed her space, finding nothing useful for the moment, except the bottles at one little table at the corner of her room.1

“You haven’t eaten in two days?” He looked at her accusingly, raising an eyebrow in reprimand.

“Well, I’ve been terribly busy! If I hadn’t moaned so hard I’m pretty sure there would have been at least three people banging on that door right now,” Azriel looked extremely flustered, and to think he had been the one telling her he was going to make her scream, and staying true to his promise. “What? Is a small island,” she said nonchalantly, raising a shoulder.

“I-” he sighed, and shook his head with a smile. “Yes, bourbon would be just fine.”

“Fancy, then,” Kallistrade smiled and nodded.

She got up the bed and went over to the little table of liquors, pouring a glass of bourbon and drinking a bit right from the bottle, she heard Azriel’s laugh behind her, and she didn’t had to look to know he was shaking his head.

Before Kallistrade shut the bottle close again, she eyed the leftovers of a cookie she hadn’t finished eating. Cookies were the only thing she had eaten at all, since Zena was having way too much fun at the kitchen since they got back. Kallistrade didn’t complain, tho, she made delicious pastries, and the sugar and alcohol was the only things keeping her energy alive this days.

“Uh, look what I found! A cookie!” She turned around with the half cookie in one hand and the glass of bourbon in the other, Azriel raised an eyebrow, and eyed the pastry with uncertainty.

“Are you sure that’s edible?” She rolled her eyes, and approached the bed again to sit beside him, extending the cookie towards him.

“Yes, Azriel, don’t be such a-”

“Don’t. Finish that sentence,” he snatched the cookie off her hands and held an eyebrow high in defiance towards what he already knew she was about to call him.

Somewhere between the lines of “picky fancy ass”, for sure.

He sighed, surveying the cookie in his hands, unsure if he was going to end up dead or really intoxicated. But…one look at Kallistrade, and seeing her expectant, excited gaze, waiting for him to accept her “mating bond acceptance offering”, that he sighed again, and took a bite.

“So…how is it?” Kallistrade raised both her eyebrows.

It had tasted great when Zena brought them, but considering she had left it there for a couple of hours…she just hoped Azriel wouldn’t be sick after it.

“It’s horrible, I’ll stay with the bourbon, thank you,” he took the glass from her quickly, and drank the content in one shot, surely to wash away the previous taste.

He made such a face that made Kallistrade inevitably laughed, and his eyes shifted from a frown of disgust, to a lighten, soft gaze.

“I think we might have done it backwards, first food, then sex,” she raised a playful eyebrow at him, and Azriel drank the last of his bourbon before putting the glass in the nightstand besides the bed, without taking his eyes off hers, his eyes darkening with lust again.

“Well, we haven’t done much very organized ever, have we,” his low voice made a shiver ran down her spine, and, like a force of nature that pulled her towards him, she leaned in his hot touch.

“You have a fair point.”

“Does that mean I get a fifth round?” She laughed lowly, and he pushed a strand of her that was falling in her face out of it with his hand, before cupping one side of her face with it, circling hot, loving caresses on her skin.

Kallistrade eyed her mate’s beautiful, rough face and smiled. Her mate. Mate. Azriel was her mate, officially now so. She didn’t had to live with that knowledge buried in her heart anymore.

“I mean…isn’t that what we should do? I’m pretty sure the mating Gods demand a closure to the acceptance,” she nodded with the utmost seriousness, as if very committed to appease ‘the mating gods’.

Azriel laughed, and again, shook his head with amusement. “Just come here, you crazy pirate.”

[shadowdaddyazriel]

What’s one ACOTAR fanfic you’ve been dying for someone to write?? I’m always looking for new ideas!

Be sure to check out my longer fics on Wattpad and ao3 under @shadowdaddyazriel for more!!

[thesistersarcheron]

Pairing: Feysand Rating: E Word Count: ~4,400 Summary: Feyre Archeron is the youngest member of the Fae nobility trapped in Amarantha’s court Under the Mountain. When her father presents her to the court, intending to pay off his debts by selling her hand in marriage, she faces scrutiny on all sides: the wicked queen herself; the leaders of the rebellion against her; and the cruel High Lord of the Night Court. [An ACOTAR retelling.] Read on AO3 here!

Chapter 1: The Debut

Feyre Archeron did not want to get married.

She didn't plan on it and never had, though she knew that was wishful thinking. The well-bred ladies of the Autumn Court were expected to marry well and marry young. Most were married by fifty, but at just nineteen, Feyre hoped they might forget her for a few more decades. She had better things to do than marry some pompous, preening prick of a lordling.

She was usually young enough, low-status enough, or quiet enough to go entirely unnoticed in the Autumn Court annex, too. Being easily overlooked was a skill she had spent her entire life honing to a fine, keen edge.

Marriages were uncommon Under the Mountain anyway. It was just her luck that she was born into Beron Vanserra's old-fashioned court, where the traditions of Above were still observed Under. She was often jealous of the other courts, where everyone else was usually too busy trying to drink or fuck or scheme enough to forget about the sword dangling over their heads to consider marriage.

No, Feyre Archeron did not want to get married, and she had some small hope that she wouldn't have to.

Until her father started to act strange.

His restlessness had agitated Feyre's eldest sister into launching a vicious interrogation. But despite Nesta's relentless needling, he hadn’t revealed the truth until it caught up to him in the form of three picts with bludgeons and a grudge. When the healer finished tending to his wounds, he finally told them, his brown eyes watery and regretful: their fortune was gone. What remained in his vaults after fifty years in captivity Under the Mountain had all been frittered away on betting rings and card games. Perhaps worse than that, he still owed several thousand gold coins to various collectors.

Marriages were uncommon, yes. But so were the three daughters of an uncommonly fertile female. That they were all raised in near-seclusion in the Seasonal wing of the Mountain? All shining, tempting curiosities to the Fae who had gotten sick of seeing the same faces day in and day out? The Archeron sisters were the closest thing approaching novelty Under the Mountain, and their father knew it. They would fetch a handsome bride price, and he would pay off his debts before anything worse could happen.

And Under the Mountain, worse typically meant something far beyond what any decent imagination might be able to conjure.

Elain had murmured in quiet horror, but Nesta didn't bother to bite her tongue before she asked, bitter and sharp as she had been since their mother's death, "Why don't you sell us as meat for the Wyrm and be done with it?"

Father had grimaced.

Like he'd considered it.

The guilty set of his mouth did nothing to cover the raw avarice gleaming in his eyes.

When Elain gasped, Nesta's tirade had died to unforgiving silence as her icy expression shuttered. And Feyre...

Feyre still didn't know how she felt about that. At the very least, she was glad Nesta didn't possess any skill for spellwork; she would have cursed their father so soundly that he died a thousand agonizing deaths that even the Attor couldn't devise. Nesta would have regretted that eventually, even if Feyre herself secretly thought for a split-second that their father might deserve it.

There was nothing to be done, Father told them. He'd already informed their High Lord of his intentions, and the High Lord had informed Amarantha.

So Feyre and her sisters had no choice. In no time at all, they were summoned, washed, coiffed, and gowned in their finest dresses. Their father had inspected them in the long gallery at the heart of the Autumn annex in two before they were marched them into the High Queen's throne room.

The vast space was the largest Under the Mountain, and the distinct feeling of being entirely exposed for the first time in her life threatened to upend the contents of Feyre's stomach. The leering Fae males lining the hall, dwarfed by the pillars carved with a mockery of Prythian's history, undoubtedly contributed to that feeling. When she dared a glance upward at the glittering chandeliers, avoiding their eyes, her stomach swooped; the ceiling was so far away, stretching up and up until it faded into shadow. It was so high that she wouldn't be surprised if gravity simply let go and dropped her into that inky darkness. For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to run back to the dim, cozy niches, warm hearths, and beautiful tapestries that made up most of Autumn's quarters.

That the vast hall was emptied of all but High Fae was a minor mercy; Feyre thought Elain might have fainted outright if they had to stare down the Attor's slimy cabal and the wall of bodies while they were presented. Her heart squeezed. Terrified as she was for herself, for Nesta, Elain had always been meant for more. Love and beauty, their mother used to say. It was true, too. Elain was love and beauty personified, a strangely bright light for someone born into darkness, and she was meant to marry for nothing less.

Perhaps Elain wouldn't marry for love, but Feyre was sure that she and Nesta could ensure she was matched with someone tolerable.

To the left stood a crowd of strangers, all bearing ashen, sun-starved skin and clad flowing robes—the Solar Court Fae. Feyre recognized only one or two faces from Dawn and Day whom she knew to be the messengers or high-status lords that sometimes met with Beron. There was another small blessing; the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand, attended Amarantha's masquerade alone all those decades ago, and his cruel courtiers were still tucked away in their own mountain to the north.

To her right, Feyre found a more familiar set of faces in the seasonal Fae who came and went in the carved warrens surrounding Autumn's annex every day. Only those in the far back, who didn't yet know they needed shove and grapple for any advantage Under the Mountain, were unfamiliar. Still, she couldn't really hope to recognize any individuals among them anyway, given the masks.

The Spring Court, with their ridiculous golden masks and their useless High Lord. Feyre fought to beat back the frustration that crawled under her skin. Just the thought of him had made her want to scream every minute of every day since the chirpy, genteel lot was dragged down into the dark. By the time she was born, no one believed Tamlin would actually succeed in breaking the curse, but hope sprang eternal, especially in the minds of three little girls who wanted to see the jewel-box forests and ice cities that shone like diamonds in their parents' home courts with their own eyes.

At least until Rhysand had dragged him Under the Mountain by the scruff of his neck three months ago. Ever the obedient sycophant, the other Autumn courtiers said that he deposited Tamlin on the throne beside the High Queen with a wide, rare smile. No doubt he was pleased to complete Amarantha's collection of all seven courts Under the Mountain.

But if the males and the ceiling made her want to run, the naked, rotting bodies nailed to the wall surrounding the door made her wish she could winnow. Feyre knew they were there, knew she should avoid them, but morbid curiosity made her look; ending up on the wall was a favorite warning whenever she and her sisters had been loud and annoying enough to disturb Autumn's peace growing up. She took only one glance before her head began roaring loud enough to drown out the crowd.

Oh gods.

High Fae, nymphs, nixies, brownies, even a couple of humans—all burned and sliced and pinned to the wall.

This could be you, the empty eye sockets seemed to say to her. This could be you if you displease the Deceiver.

The putrid stench of death, so commonplace that Feyre never truly noticed it unless the corpse in question was fresh and wet and steaming in a nearby corridor, filled her nostrils and clogged her throat. Her legs ached with the renewed instinct to run. She would go until she found her way Above the Mountain. She would run until the Queen's Guard found her in the mouth of some cave. Just one breath of fresh air might be worth it, if it were as nice and clean and devoid of death as the Fae born Above said... 

But then she heard father's new cane tap-tap-tapping on the polished red marble floor, and Elain let out a near-silent whimper beside her.

No, she couldn't run. What of her sisters? Marriage was nothing compared to what the picts might do if her father couldn't pay them. This farce paled in comparison to anything the queen would do if Feyre disrupted her fun.

And who knew who else her father owed money? Rhysand sometimes liked a good bet, and though Feyre had never met him, she had heard in excruciating detail they way he liked to play with his prey. Several of the bodies on the wall likely belonged to him, and none were a pretty sight to behold.

No, it wasn't her debt to pay, but the thought of that monster anywhere near her sisters...

Feyre ground her teeth and clenched her fists in her flowing skirts.

On the other side of Elain, Nesta growled under her breath. Feyre dared a glance at her, dared to follow her gaze to the crowd of red-and-gold Autumn courtiers.

Under normal circumstances, Nesta was less opposed to marriage than Feyre, but Feyre knew she spent her time strategizing, creating intricate plots that would only play out when she willed it. But now even Feyre could feel Eris Vanserra’s gaze as it speared across the throne room to her sister. Nesta had never liked Eris quite as much as Eris liked her, and if Eris were to ask for her hand, Feyre was sure many of those careful threads Nesta spun would unravel.

And, Feyre thought, glad to be distracted by something so trivial, marrying a male who watched you grow up would be so…

She did her best not to wrinkle her nose in front of the crowd. Now that their father's mistakes were common knowledge, Nesta would be Cauldron-blessed indeed if Beron allowed his heir apparent to court her.

Feyre loosed a breath, and then they were at the front of the vast hall.

And there she was, seated on her black throne in front of the ogling crowd.

The High Queen of Prythian.

Amarantha.

An amused, indulgent smile turned up her ruby lips.

The idle way she lounged on her throne belied the leashed magic of seven High Lords thrumming in the space around her. It crackled and whipped in the air unseen, unheard, but the hair on Feyre's arms stood on end and her tongue tasted of ether—of pure, raw power. Something in it seemed to call to her, like some bit of that web of power wanted to tangle around her wrists and pull her deeper into the spider's web.

Feyre's blood went cold as primal, animal fear gripped her mind. To take one more step without Amarantha's express permission would be signing her own death warrant, that much she knew.

Dangerous. This female was so, so dangerous.

She counted herself lucky that in nineteen years, she had only seen Amarantha three times before today.

Once when she was four, and Amarantha stormed into the Autumn annex in a rage that shook the Mountain. That time, her mother hid her under her skirts so quickly that Feyre thought they were playing a game, and Nesta had to pinch her hard enough to draw blood to keep her silent.

The second time on the night of her tenth birthday, when Feyre sneaked out of her quarters. She thought herself quite old enough to spy on one of the parties held every night in the throne room. She caught only a glimpse of red hair before a Winter Court sentry spotted her hiding in the shadows of the enormous doors and carried her home.

The third, from a high balcony cut into the wall above a dark, forgotten corridor when she was sixteen. Feyre still got nauseous just thinking of it, but the memory was enough to jolt her out of her terror.

She blinked hard to dislodge the tunnel-vision haze from her eyes.

The High Lords. She could focus on them. Masked Tamlin, seated on the throne beside Amarantha. Stern Beron, scowling at Elain's fidgeting hands to his left. Kallias and Tarquin—both barely ten years in their positions—behind him. Helion, another new High Lord, and calculating Thesan stood side by side behind the queen's throne.

And sly, cunning Rhysand, at Amarantha's right hand.

Feyre didn't look at him. It was common knowledge that he was a daemati, and she had been trained long ago not to tempt anyone with those gifts to slip into her mind by meeting their eyes.

But all seven High Lords were looking down at her and her sisters, and Feyre willed herself to stay completely motionless. It was a hunter's stillness, she told herself. A hunter's calm, not the fear of prey.

At the foot of the dais, the Lady of the Autumn Court was already waiting. She threw all three of them a pitying glance and then turned.

“Your majesty.” She curtsied for Amarantha, graceful and demure. “I humbly thank you for receiving myself and the young ladies of my court today.”

Like any of the carefully cultivated ladies of the Autumn Court, Lady Helaine’s words were quiet, measured, and her eyes remained obediently trained on the stone floor beneath her feet. Behind Amarantha’s shoulders, Beron's shoulders stiffened as his wife recited the formal script every elder female gave before tossing fresh meat into the marriage market.

Even without the ability to read his mind, Feyre knew what he was thinking. Helaine should be the one seated in a place of honor above the three girls lined up behind her. She should be the leader of the ceremonies in the formal reception hall of the Forest House; those words should have been said to her.

But Lady Helaine had no power here. Feyre had never set foot Above the Mountain, much less made it to the wheat fields her father managed or the seat of Autumn's power.

“Well met, Lady Helaine.” Amarantha inclined her head, her own head of red-gold hair shining in the light cast by the chandeliers. Despite the welcome, her black eyes were cold. “What brings you all before me today?”

“I present them in their late mother’s stead and with the blessings of their father in the hopes of securing a marriage for each,” Helaine continued. Her own shoulders were stiff with fear.

"Their father..." Amarantha mused, deviating from the traditional script, and then Father was beside Feyre.

Helaine sniffed at the sight of him, but said, "Arwel Archeron, your majesty."

Father murmured nonsense to the marble floor, and Amarantha waved him away with a bored gesture.

"Very well, Lady Helaine, you may proceed."

“I present the eldest, Lady Nesta Archeron,” Helaine announced. She said it with a slight wince, as if she had also heard the fit Nesta had put up when the sentries arrived to escort them out of the annex and jostled Elain too harshly when her knees gave out. Given how small Autumn's quarters sometimes felt, Feyre realized, she likely had.

Nesta stepped forward, now the picture of peace, and everyone’s eyes slide to her and then away. Unlike she and Elain, Nesta had been in attendance at court for several years; once she was too old to keep hiding in the nooks and crannies in the Seasonal wing, she was tapped to join Helaine’s retinue. Amarantha had summoned her to an evening revel soon afterward, and Nesta had been required to attend every night since.

Her frigid gray eyes and the severe braid atop her head were not softened by the dress she wore. All silver silk and white, Winter Court fur, it had been saved from their mother’s wedding. If anything, Nesta looked like a sharp, polished blade in it, rather than a bride. Feyre watched, impressed, as she deliberately softened her face and curtsied. As she dipped, she briefly gazed up at Lady Helaine from beneath her lashes, feigning an air of kind-hearted gratitude as she waited patiently to be allowed to rise.

“Very nice.” A single, magnanimous nod of that crimson head released Nesta from her curtsy, and she rose and stepped back in line without so much as a relieved sigh or slump of her shoulders.

Brilliant as her performace was, Nesta's eyes glittered dangerously as Helaine held out a hand to Elain.

“My namesake, Elain Archeron.”

Elain stepped forward, her doe-brown eyes wide, and voices rose from the crowd as males pushed and shoved to catch a glimpse. Nesta seemed as reluctant as Feyre to let her step forward, a sly hand reaching out to let the silk of Elain's skirts drag through her fingers as she passed. Beron clicked his tongue at her trembling, but she was the very picture of a submissive Autumn Court female with her golden hair braided neatly and her brown eyes cast to the floor.

A Goddess of the Harvest, Helaine and her ladies-in-waiting sometimes liked to tease. Despite having the tendency to get trapped in her own wandering thoughts, Elain had always been a favored pet of most of the Seasonal courtiers.

She certainly looked it in her gown, the same cloth-of-gold as Feyre's. Feyre thought her own dress washed out her sickly skin, but Elain's seemed to reflect the sparkling light of the chandeliers back onto her face and make her glow.

“My queen,” she was brave enough to murmur in her musical, lilting voice as she reached the lowest point of her curtsy. 

“Lovely,” Amarantha cooed, softening, as enchanted as everyone who had ever met Elain. A nod, and Elain rose.

Elain dipped her head once more and stepped backwards. 

Amarantha’s sharp nails tapped thoughtfully on the arm of her throne, and the sound pooled at the base of Feyre's skull and trickled down her spine.

She tilted her crimson head, as if testing the weight of her hideous, spiked crown, and said, “You shall make a most advantageous match, I think, my pet.”

Their father was idiot enough to smile, though Feyre’s mind keened in acute horror. But Helaine was already looking back at her as Amarantha's eyes slid away from Elain, and Feyre's heart turned to lead, heavy and hard.

“And the youngest, Feyre Archeron.”

She glared at her father before stepping forward. Her curtsy was neat and unembellished, but the weight of Amarantha's black gaze made her neck ache.

“Fay-ruh,” Amarantha sing-songed, and Feyre’s eyes shot up to catch the queen's lips curl upward. “Feyre. An old name—from our earlier dialects. How curious. Come here.”

Amarantha crooked a finger at her, and the crowd hushed.

Feyre rose from her curtsy, and the heeled slipper on her left foot caught in a crack in the red marble floor. She stumbled, and Elain drew in a sharp breath behind her. 

Her heartbeat returned, stronger and faster than ever, threatening to pound her breastbone to dust. The combined attention of all of the High Lords and the High Queen was fixed on her. When she paused at the base of the dais, and Amarantha crooked her finger again. Gathering her skirts in one hand, Feyre took a breath, sent up a silent prayer to the Mother, and ascended the steps. 

Every hair on her body stood on end. Even her hearing seemed to sharpen, attuning itself to every whisper of breath and surprised murmur in the throne room. Amarantha's legs rustled the material of her gown as she adjusted them, and Feyre willed herself to focus her attention on the gleam of emerald taffeta in the faelight and not the dull bone pendant on the necklace she wore over it.

On the throne beside Amarantha, Tamlin stared straight ahead through his golden mask. The other six High Lords arranged in a semi-circle around them stared openly. From the corner of her eye, Feyre could see Beron's broad shoulders roll, his chin lifting as his mouth pressed into a severe line.

“Did your mother tell you why she named you Feyre?”

Feyre returned her attention to Amarantha, swallowing at the mention of her mother. 

“No,” she said, shaking her head.

“It is another name for our people,” Amarantha told her in a quiet, intimate voice. “The fair, beautiful folk. Feyre. Fae. Do you see?”

A nod. She managed only a nod.

Up close, Amarantha herself was not nearly as beautiful as she had always thought when she caught a rare glimpse from a distance; the queen’s snow-white skin was finely creased around her eyes and her mouth, and the golden overtones in her red hair were artificial, a harsh line marking where she last applied the dye.

The dark had that effect on the people born Above. Too little light and they faded like dying embers. It was a favorite complaint from those lucky enough to go Above to soak in the sunshine and celebrate the holidays every few years.

She was lovely nonetheless, her straight teeth so white they glowed and her eyes clear and bright, but... There was something repulsive beneath her fading beauty. Something that made Feyre's gut clench with warning.

“I saw the look you gave your father,” Amarantha said next, her voice lowered to a conspiratorial lilt. It was laughable to think it a private conversation, when the normally rowdy Fae around them were near-silent as they strained to listen. “Do you not agree with his decision to present you and your sisters today, or do you just not like him?”

“I…” Feyre hesitated. 

What could she say? How could she possibly justify what she had done? It was a transgression that had gotten even Eris Vanserra whipped in the middle of the gallery. Already, Beron’s hard gaze was hot enough to burn.

A red, arched brow lifted. “Yes?”

“I do not like the thought of marriage, my queen.”

Amarantha tipped her head back and laughed—a raven's caw. “What a pity for the eager males assembled here today! What do you like the thought of then, Feyre, if not marriage?”

Feyre glanced at the High Lords behind Amarantha, and several of them finally looked away, as if they were uncomfortable for her. Rhysand wasn't even looking at her; he was leveling a cruel, dark look at the crowd. Like Amarantha, Feyre had only ever seen him a handful of times in the dark halls of the Mountain, usually from a great distance, but that look…

It was death. Painful, inescapable death.

It took all of her effort to tear her eyes away, but she managed to say, “I like to paint.”

“Oh, an artist!” Amarantha clapped. Her delight was strangely contrived, as if all the centuries she spent reveling in gore and death made her incapable of truly experiencing such simple joy.

A warning voice that sounded like Nesta’s rang in her mind, and Feyre clasped her hands in front of herself. “Only an amateur.”

"Do not sell yourself short, precious." Amarantha shook a warning finger at her, like she was no more than a charitable friend dispensing advice. “However, you are aware that you can still paint when you’re married, correct?”

Though she didn't want to, Feyre nodded again.

Amarantha tapped that finely manicured finger on the arm of her throne. “I’ll tell you what, Feyre fair. I will help you find a husband who will buy you all the paints in the world."

All thoughts emptied from Feyre's mind.

"Why?"

The benevolent smile disappeared, and Amarantha angled her head. “Do you question your queen?”

Feyre's lips were sewn shut with her own horror. She shook her head.

"Good. Come to tea with me this afternoon, and we shall discuss this further." Amarantha reached a ringed hand up to trace the line of Feyre's cheekbone. Her skin was too-warm and calloused, her nails sharp enough to draw blood if she applied the slightest pressure, and the horror grew as the eye trapped in that evil ring swiveled and stared directly into Feyre's. "I would like to get to know you better, so I can select suitors worthy of such an interesting young lady."

Again, Nesta's voice sounded in Feyre's ears, and she bowed her head again, murmuring her thanks even as her thoughts began to shriek.

Tea.

Tea with Amarantha.

It was so mundane and yet so deeply, bone-chillingly terrifying that Feyre almost laughed outright.

The queen sat back in her throne, and her eyes finally left Feyre, skimming over the crowd in silent dismissal. “Bring a painting, dear. I want to see for myself whether or not you are truly an amateur, or if it is time to commission a new portrait."

The guards at the door were laughing at her when they exited the throne room.

It was Nesta who hissed at them through her teeth, vicious enough that they quieted. She turned that fury toward their father as soon as he slipped through the doors behind them. Feyre only glanced back at the queen on her throne and the seven High Lords assembled around her like trophies in a case.

“We don't have much time," Nesta was saying. "She will send a servant to fetch you soon.”

Elain was twisting her hands, and the scent of fresh blood cutting through the rot of death in the air as she bit through her lip. “Oh, Feyre…”

But Elain wasn’t addressing her; her sister's eyes were vacant, sad, and she spoke as if she were already dead.

“It doesn’t matter.” Nesta grabbed Elain's arm and shoved her forward. “Walk.”

Their father opened his mouth, his proud grin having faltered as he looked Feyre up and down. She was not a pretty, sweet-tempered sister like Elain, who was universally adored. She didn’t possess the cutting temper and shrewd intellect that sometimes startled a laugh out of Beron and made Nesta so well-suited for court at just thirty-two.

She was Feyre. Nineteen-year-old, paint-splattered Feyre, who hadn’t yet attended a single one of Amarantha’s revels and got into more trouble than she was worth when the sentries weren’t watching. Elain was Goddess of the Harvest, but Feyre had been feral Feyre behind closed doors from the time she could walk.

“Be silent,” Nesta snapped at him.

She grabbed Feyre next, holding tight enough to cut off the circulation in her arm. Without another glance back at the male who sired them, Nesta stalked back through the winding path that would lead them home.

[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 :(

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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. 

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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.

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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. 

[daycourtofficial]

His shadows know

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 3.8k | Warnings: none

Summary: His shadows knew you were mates before either of you did and they do everything they can to push the two of you together.

Author’s note: happy 2k kick off day!!! 🎉 this is actually the oldest draft I have - I began writing this in October I think? I loved the idea but got stuck for so long on where to take it so shout out to @tsunami-of-tears for reading it and giving me feedback - this story would be lost to time without you thank you thank you thank you

Being a scholar in the Winter Court had several perks - your home had a rich and deep history, you spent most of your time reading, and you became great friends with your High Lord and newly appointed High Lady - Kallias and Viviane. Your friendship had great perks, one of which was their allowance for you to travel with them to the Night Court. 

Rhysand had spent centuries keeping up the appearance that it was a terrible place to live, that the people were terrible, everything was terrible, leading to none of the high lords ever spending time in the Night Court. After Velaris became known to the other high lords, Viviane wrote immediately to Mor asking for the chance to see the city of starlight. Mor immediately agreed, also requesting for you to come as well. You and Mor were friendly, but she liked you and knew you would love the city.

The three of you winnowed together, being greeted by Rhys, Feyre, and Mor upon your arrival. After some pleasantries, Kallias and Rhysand started speaking about some political matter, so you slipped out and started wandering around the palace, admiring the beautiful architecture and paintings lining the walls. Many portraits hung in front of you - some depicting battles, some depicting members of the royal family. 

You were stopped at a beautiful portrait of their newest addition, Nyx, when you felt a little tug on your arm. You looked down to find the cutest little blob of darkness dancing around your arm. It tickled as it swirled and skittered across your skin. The little shadow made the rounds around your body, swirling around your arms, your waist, your legs - as if it was checking to make sure everything’s okay.

“You are adorable” you whispered to it, when a second and third one appeared. “How many of you are there?” You whispered, unsure if it can even respond.

“There’s no keeping count of them. Or keeping track of them, I suppose.”

The voice startles you and the shadows, who wrap around you, almost trying to guide you to the voice. You turn to see the most devastatingly beautiful male you’ve ever seen - dark, sun-kissed skin covered large muscular arms, massive membranous wings behind him. Light poured behind him allowing the wings to look almost pink from the stretched skin, but everywhere else behind him was cloaked in shadows that moved lazily, slithering across his shoulders.

Hazel eyes look down at you, a smirk on his face.

“Are you in charge of them, I suppose?” You ask, a smile grazing your lips.

“I wouldn’t say that. They don’t always listen to me. They seem to like you, though.”

While you were speaking, a few more joined to inspect you, fast blurs of darkness roaming your skin leaving goosebumps in their cold wake.

“Hmm, maybe they see me as a threat. I can be quite frightening, you know.”

“Frightening? Yes, I can see you’re trying to pinpoint your next target. Unfortunately, I do believe you are wasting your time. Studying Nyx’s portrait won’t help you determine his weaknesses.”

“I’ve actually uncovered quite a lot about his weaknesses from his portrait.”

“Pray tell,” he leans against the wall, studying your face.

“I think his weaknesses include both nap time and bed time, along with his incredibly short legs. Dare I say, he’d be very easy to pick up and maneuver.”

“Unfortunately, you’ve picked a target that is so heavily protected you may never get the chance to see him.”

Your face lights up in delight, “so I am a frightening threat? Why else go through the trouble to hide him from me?”

“Nyx doesn’t like strangers,” his tone was so matter of fact, the shadows peered over his shoulders to watch the exchange.

“Hmm, you could introduce us. Then it’ll be a fair fight.”

“Unfortunately for you, I believe he is napping. And disturbing him from a nap is the worst part of my job.”

“So it is part of your job to wake him up?”

“I have to train him against all these frightening threats that wander the halls.”

“I only see one frightening threat.”

The shadows began dancing between you two, pulling you both closer and closer, until you realized you could put your hand out and touch his face. Your fingers twitched slightly at the intrusive thought.

“And does this frightening threat have a name.”

“Y/n.”

He smiles at your name - you assume he already knew who you were, he just wanted you to say it for whatever reason.

“And does the one who has the terrifying job of waking Nyx have a name?”

“Azriel.”

“And you also aren’t in charge of the shadows, but you provide them with suggestions?”

He laughs as he says, “They usually listen to me, especially when I command them, but sometimes they just find something they like and want to investigate.”

“Is that what happened? They wanted to investigate me?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Did they like what they found out in their investigation?”

“Sometimes they investigate pretty things or things they’ve never seen before. They won’t tell me why they came after you, but they tell me they like you.”

“Can you tell them that I like them? Or can they hear me when I talk to them?”

“They can hear you, you just can’t really hear them.”

“They’re very beautiful.” You were talking about the shadows, of course. Definitely not also about the male in front of you.

“Yes they are.” He says, gazing into your eyes, perhaps speaking about more than just the shadows.

The spell between your shared gaze is broken when a door opens and Mor comes running down the hall. “Oh, good, Az found you. We thought you got lost somewhere,” she sounded out of breath, as if she were roaming the halls for you.

“I’m sorry, Mor, you know I love to wander.” You look at Azriel, his hazel eyes meeting your gaze. “You never know what you’ll find.”

-

It had been a long day. Velaris was stunning, a beautiful gem in an otherwise terrifying sounding court, but you desperately need a warm bath and a few moments of peace. You adored Viviane and Kallias, but you needed to be away from him for a few hours. You needed peace and quiet.

And maybe a few moments to think about the beautiful male you were flirting with earlier.

You prepared yourself a bath, lowering your entire body into the warm water. You tilt your head back, enjoying the warmth on your aching muscles from walking around the palace all day, when you see out of the corner of your eye a tiny little shadow.

“Hello, sweetie,” you coo towards it. You can’t help it - they’re absolutely adorable. They remind you of little pets, but less messy or noisy. One or two of them had followed you around during the day. You weren’t sure if anyone else noticed or not, especially because you didn’t see Azriel again for the rest of the day.

The shadow came to the edge of the bathtub, climbing up your arm, nestling into your hair. “You are a silly little thing aren’t you?” You ask it, with no response. “Will you ever speak to me?” You ask, again with no response. “Will you keep me company?” The shadow didn’t necessarily respond, but you felt the shadow’s agreement as it nestled further into your hair as you sank into the bath once more.

After your bath, with the shadow still keeping you company, you put on a nightgown and decided you wanted to go down to the kitchen to look for some cookies, certain that Rhysand would only have the highest quality of late night snacks. You reiterate your thoughts to the shadow, when the shadow holds you back by your wrist for a moment.

“Is everything alright?” The shadow keeps a hold on you, not letting you go. A moment or two passes, and the shadow lets go, causing you to move forward a little. “I can go now?” You ask, which the shadow ignores again, but doesn’t keep you in place any longer. You walk to the door, opening it only to collide directly into someone.

“I’m so sorry I-“ you’re cut off by the laugh of the beautiful Azriel.

“It’s okay,” he says, and you take this opportunity to glance down and you realize he’s wearing a loose pair of trousers with no shirt on. His bare chest was just as beautiful as the rest of him - black ink trailed across his shoulders in an abstract way that your eyes lingered on. If you weren’t so preoccupied by checking him out, you might have noticed the shadows surrounding him, trying to slow him down.

A small blush creeps down your cheeks as you ask, “is your uh tiny general happy and napping?”

He smirks and says “well I’m not sure about how happy he is, but Cassian is definitely asleep. He’s kept on a separate floor because of how loud he snores.”

You hit him in the chest, “you know I wasn’t talking about - wait he sleeps on a different floor? Is it really that bad?”

He motions for you to follow him up the stairs, and before you’re even halfway up, you hear impossibly loud snoring. “Oh,” you giggle, “yeah I’m not sure how anyone sleeps in the same city block as him.”

“You have no idea. Cassian’s really susceptible to pollen, so during the spring time it’s absolutely ridiculous. We once banned him for a week so we could all sleep.”

You laugh, and then try to shush yourself so he doesn’t wake up. “Stop - if I laugh I’ll wake him up.”

“What are you doing up?” He asks, his hazel eyes looking down at you with such fondness you wanted to curl up in his gaze and rest in it for a while.

“Oh I wanted cookies, actually.” You reply. “Why are you awake?”

He stammers a little, not wanting you to know that he was walking by your door to see if you were still awake. He had wanted to see you again, your earlier encounter occupying his thoughts all day long, when he assumed you had turned in for the night.

“Uh, I was doing a patrol.” He settled on.

“Oh yeah? Wanted to make sure the terrifying threat was contained?”

He smirked, “what do you think I’m doing now? I figure if I feed the threat, it might spare me.” He gives you the sweetest looking puppy dog face, and you have no idea where it came from, but it absolutely melts your heart.

“Stop that!” you say, while hitting his chest.

“Stop what?” He says, continuing his pouting.

“You look like a sad puppy dog, stop!”

“Will it make the frightening threat not want to kill me?”

“Hmm, the frightening threat will leave you be, for now.”

You two head into the kitchen, and he immediately starts searching through cupboards.

“Mor and Cassian have the best cookies,” he says, while reaching the higher shelves to pull out random boxes that contain cookie tins.

“I didn’t know being a spymaster included knowing everyone’s taste in cookies.” 

“You never know what might become necessary information.”

He looked down at you, offering you a cookie. You accepted it, and as your hands were connected by the cookie, a few shadows danced around your arms to some unheard song. He seemed a little surprised at them, his mouth dropping just slightly.

“Are they always this kind to night court guests?” You asked, nibbling on the cookie.

“Only the pretty ones.”

“And do you always flirt with night court guests?”

He leaned in closer, “only the pretty ones.”

You took a step closer, until you’re almost touching noses.

“And do you always commit crimes with your guests?”

His breath was fanning your face. It smelled of sugar cookie and mint, and you think about what it would feel like to inhale him.

“Only you.”

He pulled out a cookie and offered it to your mouth, which you happily accepted. You don’t break eye contact as you grab the cookie with your mouth, pulling it from his fingers.

“I can’t say I’ve indulged in criminal activity with anyone else.”

His grin grows as you bite into the cookie, a few crumbs falling but a few shadows swoop down to catch them before depositing them in the trash.

“Good. I am in charge of catching criminals in the night court, and I’d hate to have to catch you and lock you up.”

A blush spread over your cheeks. You opened your mouth to respond, when Azriel straightened, his wings going rigid.

“Hide the evidence.” He whispered, as he pulled back and quietly put the cookies away back where they came from. Before you can ask him about the abrupt change, you hear loud footsteps coming down the stairs into the kitchen, before seeing Cassian appear.

He looked at the two of you, surprised that anyone else was awake at this hour. Now he was hoping the two of you wouldn’t stay too long so he could reach his secret stash of cookies.

-

During the afternoon the next day, your little shadow companion kept following you around, almost acting as a guide dog. When you came down for breakfast, it guided you into the seat next to where Azriel was sitting, even guiding your hand to grab an apple at the same time as him, causing your fingers to brush against each other. 

Currently the shadow was dragging you through the hallways of the house, into what appeared to be a massive library. It guided you to sit in a chair at a table where there seemed to be some paperwork piled on top. The shadow left you for a moment, returning with a book for you.

“Ah, thank you,” you say, petting at the shadow. It curled around your finger in reciprocation before slithering back into your hair. You began reading the book, only getting a chapter in when someone sat across the table from you.

“The threat has found where I liked to do work,” Azriel stated, looking through his papers. You smiled up at him, “I have to be prepared to strike at any moment, you know.”

He chuckled, a soft look on his face. “Well, if you plan to attack in the library, please try to keep noise levels to a minimum, Clotho gets very upset when I cause too much noise. I’m on thin ice with her.”

“Oh, I see. You have a reputation for hosting parties down here,” you muse.

He looks at you, a lazy grin on his face, “my parties are known across Prythian, only the best, most exclusive guests may attend my library events.”

“And am I on the guest list?” You ask, leaning against the table. “Of course,” he replied, leaning towards you over the table, “you might be a threat, but I’ve heard you’re one hell of a dancer.”

You laugh loudly, then remember where you are and try to quiet down. “I’ll have you know that I’m a lousy dancer, but I would be very interested in attending one of your parties anyway.”

-

The longer you stayed, the more the shadows kept maneuvering around you. Instead of just one you now had a small trio who accompanied you everywhere, hiding in your hair, wisping around your neck and wrists like jewelry when you were alone.

One night at dinner, you’re seated next to Azriel for the fourth evening in a row. You’re not sure if any of his family members pick up on this, but Kallias and Viviane also sit in the same place each night, so perhaps it wasn’t anything noteworthy.

“Can you pass me the potatoes please?”

You knew if you turned to the right, Azriel’s face would be right next to yours and your noses would be able to touch.

“Of course, can’t give you any reason not to trust me.” You winked at him, reaching over for the potatoes. When you turn back, Azriel’s expression has changed ever so slightly, and his eyes search for your face, something you can’t quite pinpoint in his eyes.

“Here you are,” you say, moving the bowl towards him.

“Here I am,” he says, not reaching for the bowl, instead keeping his gaze fixed on you. You laugh, expecting there to be some joke, but he keeps his gaze fixed on you and you find it impossible to breathe with the way he’s looking at you.

Surely someone else notices the way you two are locked in this embrace, but when you quickly glance around the table, no one seems to notice or care.

He reached for the potatoes and looked at them. “How can I be sure you didn’t poison these?”

You laugh, the spell of the moment gone, and you’re able to think properly again.

“I guess you’ll never know.”

He placed the bowl down, smirking. “Better not take any chances then.”

The rest of the dinner continued, everyone amused at Nyx’s babbling and insistence of sitting in Cassian’s lap despite how many times he’s put back into his own high chair, and yet your eyes kept finding those potatoes Azriel never ate, the bowl untouched since he took it from your hands.

-

A quick knock to your door the next morning stops you from packing, and you stride over to open it. “Hi, Azriel,” you say, leaving the door open for him to come in as you turn back around to put your folded clothes away. Several of his shadows move towards you, trying to unfold your clothes when you aren't looking.

“Leaving so soon?” he asks, shutting the door behind him gently, turning back to you with his hands in his pockets. You swat at the shadows, refolding their undoing.

“Unfortunately, my trip always had an expiration date attached to it.”

You breathe deeply, trying to ignore how good he smells when you feel him come up behind you, his chest close enough that you can feel his body heat through your clothes. From behind you, he lifts one of his hands up, almost touching you, but not quite getting far enough before retracting his hand.

He clears his throat, “what did you think of my home court?”

You smile, doing the latches on your luggage. “It’s quite beautiful. Do you get all four seasons here?”

He nods his head in agreement when you turn to face him, not noticing the shadows behind you undoing the latches to your suitcase and unpacking once more for you. “That must be nice,” you muse, “I love Winter, but I am quite tired of the cold.”

“I’m used to the cold, growing up in the mountains you grow quite accustomed to it.”

“Then you’d feel comfortable visiting me in the Winter Court?”

Azriel’s ears reddened at the brazen ask, “I can’t imagine visiting you anywhere and not feeling at ease.”

It was your turn for your ears to redden, but Azriel doesn’t let the silence linger for long. 

“Before you go, can I tell you something?”

Surprise overcomes your face, intrigued by his question. You nod, desperate to know what he has to say before you leave. He looked behind you, watching his shadows unpack your bag and put your clothes back where they had come from in the drawers.

“I was very drawn to you when we first met.”

He clears his throat, his wings twitching with nerves. “I was literally dragged to you. I was winnowing elsewhere, but my shadows brought me next to you. I was intrigued why they’d do such a thing,” one of the offending shadows gently passes over his cheek before making its way to greet you.

“They’re funny little things. I thought they were just annoyed with me because I wasn’t sleeping. And then you spoke to me. You were so relaxed with me, immediately. It’s not- most fae aren’t relaxed around me. And I really liked you.”

“I like you too, Azriel.”

He holds up a hand, silently telling you he’s not quite finished. You hold your hands up in mock surrender, allowing him to continue.

“And then you were everywhere. In the hallway, next to me at meals, on the balconies when I landed. It’s like you knew where I’d be.

“Last night at dinner, when I asked you for the potatoes.. I didn’t eat them after you gave them to me.”

You cock your head to the side, confused at this admission over something as minor as potatoes. “Did you change your mind?”

“No, no. I just- I just- the second you were about to hand them to me, I felt it.”

“You felt it?” Confusion coursed through you, completely unsure of where he was going. You enunciated each word, curious over what ‘it’ was.

“I felt it.” His tone held more conviction, but you weren’t any less confused by what he was talking about.

“What did you feel?”

“This.” And you felt a sharp tug in your chest, pulling you towards him, almost knocking you off of your feet. You gasp, holding your arms out to steady yourself, your hands meeting his chest instead.

“That- what- I-“ you look around frantically, unsure exactly of what that was. You look up, finding soft, slight amusement in his hazel eyes. Shadows swarmed around the two of you, circling your arms, your legs, your fingers. They seemed to be saying something, and you closed your eyes to listen.

Mate. Mate. Mate. 

You close your eyes, looking deep into your chest, searching for that rope, that tether between your souls. It was shadow and ice, wrapped around each other for as far as you could see.

You gave it a sharp tug, and it was Azriel’s turn to lurch forward. You laugh at his stumbling, holding his elbows to keep him steady.

“Is your offer still valid - for me to visit you in Winter?”

“Only if I can come visit you here, mate.”

Azriel’s knees nearly gave out at the name, the title he’s wanted for centuries. And here you were, right in front of him. 

His hand moved hesitantly toward your face, lingering close enough that you could feel the chill from his hand. You nuzzled your cheek into his hand, looking up at him. This beautiful, kind male was your mate.

You had known him for four days - you hardly knew him, hardly knew anything about him or his homeland. But that was okay. You knew his shadows well enough by now.

They were a pretty good judge of character.

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

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin

Thanks for reading! 💕

[prythianpages]

Be Safe | Azriel x Reader

summary: 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.

warnings: fluff and a hint of suggestiveness at the beginning

note: I saw this tiktok and decided to write it into a little scenario because I loved it so much.

“Oh, you’re going to love the Day Court,” Mor purrs with a grin. “And it’s High Lord. Helion…let’s just say his pegasus isn’t the only thing you’ll want to ri–”

“Oookay.” Cassian chimes in with a chuckle, placing his hand over Mor’s mouth to keep her from finishing her sentence. “Settle down, Mor. We don’t want her to love it too much!” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll come back,” you respond and then laugh as Mor bites Cassian’s hand. "Besides, Rhys will be there and he’s, you know, my boss. This trip is purely professional.”

The three of you stand in the foyer of the town house, Cassian cradling his hand to his chest with a pointed look at Mor, who merely rolls her eyes. You were heading for Day Court, where Rhysand already waited for you. Cassian and Mor had stopped you, insisting on wishing you well before leaving, even though your mission was amicable. The only danger you could possibly encounter on your trip, it seems, would be Helion’s chambers. A welcomed danger, if Mor’s insinuations were to hold truth.

“I should go now. I told Rhys I would be there within the next half hour almost an hour ago.”

As you gaze at your friends, a subtle ache tugs at your heartstrings, a silent yearning for another’s presence. Though you know he's currently engaged in a mission, you can't help but wish he were here beside you too. 

You turn away from your friends, preparing to winnow to the Day Court. It's as though the Cauldron itself heard your unspoken longing. Just as you're about to step forward, a hand emerges from the depths of the shadows, halting you in your tracks with a gentle yet firm touch.

You turn back around, watching as the darkness seems to part for him, revealing those warm hazel eyes that could pierce through the darkest of nights. “Azriel,” you greet in pleasant surprise.

His eyes lock onto yours and you suddenly find it hard to breathe. “Be safe,” he murmurs, his voice deep yet sweet like honey. The way he looks at you, full of concern and something else you can’t quite discern at the moment, sends a delightful warmth seeping into your heart. 

Azriel’s gaze flickers down toward your intertwined hands and you notice the subtle tension that comes from his scarred hands before he abruptly lets yours go. It’s a moment of vulnerability that makes your chest ache. You want to reach out for his hands again but he comes to stand by your side instead.

His arm brushes against yours. The dark tendrils dancing around his shoulders revel in your proximity, slithering down his arm and coiling around you in a cool embrace. You welcome his shadows, smiling softly when you feel them tug you closer to their master, deliberately enchanting you with the scent of cedar and night chilled mist. It’s as if they don’t want you to leave his side.

“I will,” you finally respond, your voice a mere whisper as you look up at him

Azriel’s gaze softens. The tension between you dissipates into something lighter, something magical. The world around seems to fade into darkness, leaving only the two of you suspended in a moment that feels both infinite and fleeting. No words are spoken yet so much is said.

Meanwhile, Cassian and Mor exchange a knowing look of their own. The mutual crushing between you and Azriel has been evident to everyone for years. Well, everyone, except for you and Azriel. Mor and Cassian will give you grace, as Azriel can be unreadable at times. But Azriel? The spymaster of the Night Court? How he cannot see your unmistakable crush on him is beyond them.

“Be safe,” Cassian says, mocking Azriel’s tone.There’s a mischievous gleam in his hazel orbs as he gazes down at Mor, pouting his lips in an exaggerated manner. 

Mor’s eyes light up, mirroring Cassian’s mischief. She leans in toward Cassian’s shoulder–the very same way you’re doing with Azriel. Except, she wraps her arms around Cassian’s larger one, resting her head on his chest. “I’ll be so safe,” she cooes, voice like velvet.

Azriel feels the heat rising to his neck. He turns to Cassian and Mor, gaze darkening with an icy glare. “Stop,” he warns but it only encourages the two further.

They continue to hug each other and make kissing sounds. A blush creeps up your cheeks and you seek solace in Azriel’s arm, burying your face against it. Azriel’s wing instinctively curls around your form in a protective manner. Were you being that obvious? Your answer is immediately given as your hands gravitate towards each other once more.

 “Stop it! Or I’m going to kill you!”

Cassian pulls Mor even closer. His brows furrow, softening his expression as he directs his pout toward Azriel. “But how would that keep us safe?”

None of you will be safe if you keep delaying y/n. Helion does not like to be kept waiting, echoes an all too familiar voice–Rhys’s– through your minds. He leaves your mind as quickly as he entered it, lingering only in Azriel’s long enough to add: Let her go.

Azriel blinks, not realizing that throughout the teasing, his fingers had intertwined with yours. He turns his attention back to you, reluctantly releasing your hand. A sheepish expression takes over his features as he brings the hand that had been holding yours to rub the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry. I just can’t help but worry when you’re not home,” Azriel admits quietly.

Mor and Cassian both let out a sound that Azriel is quick to stifle with his shadows. 

“It’s only for a week,” you assure him as you open the door and step outside. You feel a flicker of anticipation tingling in your veins as you prepare to winnow. You turn back to face Azriel and your friends one more time.

“Don’t miss me too much, okay?”

But I miss you already, Azriel thinks as he feels a strange stirring awakening deep in his chest. His shadows buzz around him in excitement. 

“Bye, y/n. Have fun but not too much fun!” Cassian calls out to you in mock warning over Azriel’s right shoulder.

Mor peeks out from Azriel’s left shoulder and winks at you. “But if you do find yourself having too much fun, call for me, okay?” 

“Sure,” you agree and Azriel fails to notice the reciprocated teasing in your tone.

He’s too busy glancing between Cassian and Mor, hazel eyes wary. His shadows whisper to him, confirming the suggestiveness of their words. Uneasiness settles into his stomach, causing his entire body to tense up.

He’s familiar with the flirtatious nature of the High Lord of the Day Court. Too familiar that he can already dreadfully anticipate the sweet words Helion will shower you with. His shadows stir, excitement morphing into panic. What if you fall victim to Helion’s charm?

Suddenly, he hates the idea of you going to Day. 

As your gazes meet once more, an unseen force seems to settle into place. His eyes widen in realization, his mouth parting to utter your name, but it’s too late. You’re already winnowing away and he lurches forward, after you, pulled by the golden threads that have wildly unfurled within his chest.

Mate. You're his mate.

note: I did not know how to end this so please don't come for me for ending it like this lol. Just know that Az is winnowing away to join you in Day Court right after. I hope you enjoyed! <3

general tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria

[bat-boys]

domestic bliss

pairing: Azriel x fem reader

word count: 4.5k words

warning: suggestive language but no actual smut. just lots and lots of fluff!

summary: a series of scenes that give an insight into the domestic bliss you had built with your mate

a/n: oh my goshhh thank you so much for all the love and so sorry I've been a bit MIA. I'm in the middle of a couple of wips that I'm struggling to piece together so wanted to give you something quick whilst I get my act together. I hope you enjoy it loves 🫶🏻

Part 2

A soft breeze and warm sunlight trickled into the room through the open floor-to-ceiling doors leading out to your room's balcony. The sounds of the birds chirping outside and the busy city below created a peaceful atmosphere that soothed your soul as you lay stretched out on your bed, book in hand.

A noise akin to a purr escaped the lips of the fae male sprawled across your body, head resting gently on your stomach, as you combed your fingers through his luxurious midnight black curls. Your lips tilted up in an affectionate smile as you continued to soak up the words on your page. As you gently scraped your fingernails along his scalp, another deep groan elicited, leaving you giggling and your toes curling. 

Sundays like this were your favourite. Slow, lazy and steady. Filled with quiet moments of simplicity. When Azriel wasn't busy off doing god knows what, god knows where, and you didn't have to attend any stuffy meetings or pour over lengthy negotiations and treaties as the emissary of the Night Court. When your mate could spend the day with you lounging in bed, just enjoying each other's presence. 

"Why did you stop?" Az grumbled as you lifted your hand away from his head. 

"I was turning the page, dummy." You chuckled at him. 

"Well, hurry up."

"Big Illyrian baby," you cooed, a soft yelp leaving your lips when you felt Azriel gently bite down on the stretch of bare skin he was resting on. A satisfied sound left his lips—and caused your eyes to roll—when he felt your fingers back in his hair. 

You, however, couldn't help the pulse of love and affection you sent down the bond when the next time you had to turn the page, one of his shadows appeared to do it for you.

Another chapter of your book was read before he spoke again, dispersing the soft, comfortable silence that had fallen between you. You had been convinced he had fallen asleep as you played with his hair. 

"When do you go to the Court of Nightmares?" He mumbled against your skin, his lips pursing to kiss your hip quickly. 

"Tomorrow." You sighed. It was your least favourite job as the official emissary, the one you dreaded doing every couple of weeks. Like Mor, you had been born under that particular mountain, crafted in its dark shadows, a dreamer bred to be a nightmare. It had taken years of wit and cunning to get to a position to meet the High Lord, years of barely surviving until you could petition him for a job—anything to get out of there. 

"Do you want me to come with you?" He lifted his head slightly, his hazel eyes meeting yours. Silver nearly lined your eyes as you took in his soft, gentle expression. Azriel understood just how much going there took out of you. He knew that you would return home hollow and would require the rest of the night to be cooped up in bed with his arms around you. 

He also recognised that you could absolutely do it alone. That you didn't need him beside you. You were strong enough to face your past head-on and would leave whatever meeting you were attending with Rhys and Feyre with the winning cards in your hand. But that didn't stop him from offering a comforting hand to hold throughout your time there. 

"Please." You whispered. His lips stretched into a gentle smile as he lifted his body off you to scoot up the bed and press his lips to yours in a loving kiss. 

"Of course, my love." And you knew that was that. No explanations, no words needed to be exchanged with Rhys. When it was time to travel to the Court of Nightmares, you would find your mate beside you, a reassuring hand in your own as he stood quietly beside you. 

Azriel could see the tumultuous thoughts flitting across your brain, so he did the only thing he could. He bent down once again to press his lips to yours, pouring as much love and affection as he could down that beautiful, gleaming bond you shared. 

Kissing Az never got boring, even after all these years together. He captured your bottom lip in his plush, slightly chapped lips, tugging slightly to elicit a soft groan from you, which he swallowed with his mouth. You lifted your arms to circle his neck, gently playing with the soft hairs there - your book long discarded and falling to the floor. He sighed against you as he wrapped his arms around your bare torso, pulling your chest flush against his as he deepened the kiss into something fiery that had a slow, dull ache beginning between your legs. 

You could feel him against your inner thigh and smirked against his lips as you reached a finger towards his impressive wings and carefully dragged a fingernail along the underside of his right wing where they met his back, a spot you had discovered many years ago. A primal part of you stretched out in satisfaction as you felt Azriel shudder against you at the touch. 

"So eager to go again, my love?" He teased, alluding to the several times he had already taken you that day as he gently nipped your skin before torturously slowly pressing open-mouthed, hot kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck.

"Distract me, Az." You breathed, tipping your head back to expose even more of your delicate neck to him, groaning when you felt his canines skimming along your skin. 

"With pleasure, sweetheart."

…

The noise was almost deafening, the room packed to the brim with politicians, courtiers, nobility and High Lords and their entourages. It was enough to overwhelm anyone, but Azriel watched from the edge of the room as you dazzled person after person, drifting from one group of fae to the next, completely and totally in your element. 

You enjoyed nights like these when you got to flex the skills you had built up as an emissary to the Night Court, speaking to old friends, charming acquittances, and building friendships with those you had yet to meet. The beautiful deep black gown you wore also helped. 

Azriel watched as you stood amongst courtiers from the Winter Court, catching up with some of the gossip from one of your allies. A flute of champagne dangled from your fingers; half drank as you tipped your head back to laugh at something one of your friends had said. The dress you wore tonight was some torture explicitly designed for him. It was sleeveless, showing off the delicate curves of your shoulders and décolletage, the high swell of your breasts threatening to spill over the top of your dress every time you drew breath. The slit that every now and then gave Azriel the view of the smooth curve of your leg was maddening. But what was true torture was the choker around your neck, encrusted with gems the same colour as his siphons—a reminder of where his hands had been last night. 

He had almost sent a mental note to Rhys that the pair of you wouldn't be attending the party tonight when you had emerged from your bathroom and asked him to zip you up—favouring the idea of ravishing you right there and then. It was only the thought of watching you so expertly work the room, charming everyone so thoroughly, but knowing that only he had the privilege to take you home, that had him attending tonight.

As if you could hear his thoughts, your eyes drifted from the fae before you to lock eyes with your mate across the room. Matching smirks danced on your lips as he nodded at you, and you nodded back - an inside joke between the two of you started on that first official party you had been forced to attend when the mating bond was still so new. 

A fire built in your body, beginning in your stomach and dipped lower and lower as you watched him push off the wall he had been leaning on and stalk towards you. He never once dropped eye contact, his shadows twirling before him and telling him where to step, creating a direct path to you. 

You tracked him across the room, your skin burning from his gaze. When he stopped just in front of you, his shadows dispersed to dance among your skirts and play with the hair that cascaded down your back. 

"Emissary." He greeted, bending his body into a tight bow whilst that playful smirk danced on his lips. 

"Shadowsinger." You purred. 

"Rhys has asked to see you urgently." The desire swirling in his hazel eyes made the grin on your lips widen as your stomach dipped in anticipation. 

"Excuse me." You politely bowed your head to the people you previously held court with, dropping your now empty glass on a nearby table as you followed Azriel out of the room. 

Your heels clacked on the beautifully tiled floor as you closed the distance between you and Azriel. You were still walking behind him but close enough to brush your hand against his. He turned his head slightly to smirk at you, and you felt his hand beside you curl and unfurl as he resisted the urge to touch you in front of everyone. 

After moments of strutting through the House of Wind, you reached a part of the house away from the centre of the party, with fewer and fewer people milling around. It was only then that, with lightning-fast speed, Azriel's hand whipped out to grab yours and pull you into a shadowy alcove. 

With firm hands, he pushed you against the wall, his shadows swirling to hide you from prying eyes, as one of Azriel's hands dropped to your hips and the other reached up to grip your neck. You groaned in delight at the feeling of his hands on you, the messy, feverish kisses he was now peppering along the bare skin of your neck, shoulder and collarbones. 

"Az." You moaned as you felt his canines drag along that sensitive junction where your neck met your shoulder, his tongue following to soothe the slight sting. 

"Fuck Y/N." He groaned into your skin, relishing in the way you tasted - so sweet. Even after years of being together, he would never get tired of tasting you, of his lips and tongue on your flesh, on your lips and in between your thighs. 

"What if we get caught?" You managed to say, your chest heaving as you breathed heavily, hands gripping Azriel's broad shoulders tightly. 

"That's never stopped you before, love." He teased as he ran his lips across the swell of your breasts, his touch feather-light, causing a shiver to run down your body and your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

The hand that was holding your hips in his grasp moved to slip under the slit of your dress, skimming down the curve of your leg, tracing over your knee and down your calf before wrapping around your thigh to lift it and hook it over his hips.

"You were torturing me out there, Princess." His voice had become deep and husky, and he elicited a groan from your lips as he was able to press his hips into yours with the new angle. Your body was set alight as you felt his straining erection through the material of his pants as he pushed into you. 

"Looking delicious in that dress for everyone to see." His words caused molten lava to pool in your stomach, the throbbing at the apex of your thighs to become incessant, and the wetness gathering there began to drip down your thigh. 

Anticipation curled in your stomach as you felt Azriel's hand travel from your thigh to your hip, skimming so lightly it was pure torture down your bikini line before reaching your swollen and slick sex - freezing when he realised he had unrestricted access.

"You've got to be kidding me, no underwear? Fuck you're killing me love." He groaned against your neck, roughly nipping at your jaw and causing a moan of your own to slip past your lips.

"All for you, Az." You whispered, throwing your head back against the solid wall behind you as he traced your slit, gathering the wetness pooling there.

"There they are." Rhys's unbothered drawl broke through the hazy atmosphere you were creating in your shadowy alcove, shattering the moment and causing you both to freeze. 

"I knew those lovebirds hadn't gone far." Cassain chuckled from beside Rhys. You knew Azriel's shadows were keeping you covered, that they couldn't see anything and could only recognise you both because they knew how his shadows felt and what they looked like to the untrained eye. 

"Piss off, Cass." Azriel snarled as he slowly extracted himself from you, carefully dropping your leg and trying to straighten your dress. 

"Someone's cranky," Cassain teased, and you rolled your eyes as you watched Azriel's face turn into a murderous expression. Azriel was usually so calm and collected, not easy to rattle at all, except when it came to you. 

"You know not to interrupt a male and his mate." You sighed as you gripped the front of the dress and tried to rearrange it over your chest. You noted the still-hungry look in Azriel's eyes as he watched your every move. A promise in his gaze that told you this wasn't over. 

"If you wanted to enjoy each other's company in the hallway, that's totally up to you; we get it - looking beautiful as ever Y/N -," Rhys added as Azriel dropped his shadows once you looked presentable, "but we're doing a debrief in my office, and then you're all done for the night so you can move this to your bedroom if you wish…"

"We'll be there in 5 minutes," Azriel managed to grind out, his eyes still on yours, desperately trying to calm down. 

"Is that all he lasts?" Azriel's eyes flared, and you knew Cassain had overstepped. You gave them both an eye roll, territorial fae bullshit. 

"Cass," you warned as you heard your best friend chuckle at the snarl that ripped out of Azriel's mouth as he sauntered back down the hallway. 

…

Azriel padded through the quiet hallway of the home he shared with you. His feet were cool as they touched the dark wood floor, a nice contrast to the heat pushing up against the windows from the summer sun outside. His shadows flitted and danced around him as they coaxed him to follow them, to follow them to her. His lips curled up in amusement at their behaviour as he neared the kitchen, where he could hear you humming and the soft sounds of you bustling around the kitchen. 

He rounded the corner to lean on the doorframe; strong arms crossed over his bare chest as he took in the scene before him. His heart almost stopped dead at the sight of you standing at the large island in the middle of the room, mixing bowl in front of you and wooden spoon in hand, your glorious hair pulled half up into a messy bun tied at the back of your head - tendrils falling around your face and gleaming in the sun -, wearing nothing but one of his shirts. 

A deep and primal part of him purred at the sight of you in his clothes, knowing that it was unlikely you had anything under that soft cotton. The fit was incredibly baggy on you, the hemline falling to your mid-thigh, the collar threatening to slip down your shoulder, and the sleeves so long you had had to roll them up. He delighted in being taller than you, bigger than you. A small part of him always soared when he bundled you up in his arms, being able to protect you with just his body. He knew, more than anyone, that you could handle yourself. In a tight situation, you could take down as many enemies as he could. But there was something so delightful about your body being so much smaller than his. 

A soft melody slipped past your lips, and Azriel joined in as he pushed off the doorframe. Unable to contain the need to touch you any longer, he approached you. You jolted slightly at the feeling of his large, warm hands on your hips, and a soft yelp left your lips when you felt Azriel bury his head in your hair and press a chaste kiss to the skin of your neck.

"Morning, love," Azriel mumbled into your hair, breathing in your intoxicating scent. 

"More like afternoon, babe; we spent all morning in bed!" you joked as you turned back to the task at hand.

"And whose fault is that." Azriel teased as he pulled away from your neck to reach around and gently nip at your earlobe, which sent a lick of fire straight to the apex of your thighs.

"Yours." You shot back, angling your head slightly to look at your mate.

"Hmm, I'm not so sure about that," he smirked, his beautiful hazel eyes dancing with mischief and desire as he dipped his head to press your lips in a searing kiss. Kissing Azriel was like this: all or nothing. Either his kisses were chaste, quick things meant to convey a simple hi or, more often than not, a quick acknowledgement of you during conversations or as you passed each other in corridors or hallways. His other types of kisses were slow, leisurely and utterly torturous, and he poured every ounce of love he had for you into them. His lips moved lazily with yours, licking across the seam of your lips and begging for entrance before licking into your mouth - your knees almost buckling at the intoxicating sensation and the fire burning in your body. He knew what he was doing, as was evident when he pulled away with a smirk on his lips, "what are you making?"

He grinned when he watched your eyes drift back into focus, your body slamming down to reality after a kiss that was so heady but given so casually. 

"A lemon drizzle cake." You replied somewhat breathlessly, which made him chuckle, and you felt his chest rumble on your back.

"My favourite." He said as he returned to his spot behind you and wrapped his arms around your torso, bringing your back flush to his chest as you continued baking. 

"I know, love." You softly spoke as you began to stir the mixture before you. Judging by the smile in your voice, he knew you were thinking of that moment a handful of years ago when you had both accepted the mating bond with a lemon drizzle cake.

It had been your first time to the Court of Nightmares since you had escaped and been made part of the Night Court. You had been secretly dreading it, knowing that your usual skill set as emissary would all fall apart in that place when your eyes would land on your family and those familiar snarling faces. And it had. Everything had gone to shit the moment your family had spotted you beside Rhys' throne and had smelt that mating bond on you. It had started with shouting and had escalated to your family barging their way up to the throne and threatening to gut you for turning into a whore. 

Rhys had pulled rank and ordered everyone to leave, and you had been quickly winnowed to the safety of the townhouse, where everyone had rallied around you and tried to distract you. Rhys and Azriel had gone back to calm the situation and assess the aftermath. You had been cooped up in the arms of Cassain for the evening, a loving and supportive brother figure you had never had before. But deep down, you had wanted only one pair of arms around you to soothe you and remind you that your family do not dictate who you are. 

Everyone had eventually retreated to bed, but you had stayed, needing to see him, knowing he would return at some god-forsaken hour. He had found you then when he winnowed to appear in the living room of the townhouse, curled up on a sofa in front of the fire with a book in your hand. At his appearance, you slowly put the book down to look at him. 

The bond was newly snapped in place, but he could feel your emotions faintly and was so overwhelmed by the fact that you had stayed up for him that all he could think to say was, "Good book?"

He had watched fascinated as your lips curled into a soft smile, the first since the incident so many hours ago. "Couldn't put it down." 

He chuckled lowly but didn't move from his spot as you slipped a bookmark into the page and popped it beside you, swinging your legs off the sofa to sit facing him. 

"Az, I think we need to talk." He watched as you outstretched your hand, gesturing for him to come and sit with him. 

His heart had sunk as he had walked over to you, joining you on the sofa. He knew you needed to talk about the mating bond and how you moved forward—you had been friends for so long, and he had been yearning for you since the first day he met you. And now he was terrified that you were about to reject the bond, reject him, and he was going to lose the woman he loved and the friendship he cherished with you all in one go. 

"Y/N, you need to do the right thing for you - please don't accept something because you feel bad for me. We can work it out. I can perhaps get Rhys to station me in the Illyrian mountains so you can stay here, and I-"

"Respectfully, what the hell are you talking about, Az?" You stared, baffled, at the male before you as he rambled on. He couldn't look at you, and his expression conveyed such sadness.

"The logistics of you rejecting the bond—that's what you want to talk about, isn't it?" A bark of laughter left your lips, shocking him and causing him to snap his head up to look at you in confusion. 

"Oh Az, no honey, that's not what I wanted to talk about," you softly said as you held one of his beautiful, scarred hands in one of yours and brought the other to cup his cheek. You watched, fascinated, as he internally debated whether to lean into your touch, "Stay here a second; I'll be back."

He watched, confused, as you flashed him a warm, comforting smile before dashing off the sofa and disappearing into the hallway outside the living room. The wait may have been seconds, minutes at most, but it felt like hours to Azriel. His heart had stopped dead when you returned, a dish in your hand in which a delicately decorated cake sat atop it. He watched keenly as you walked back to him, smiling sheepishly and nervously, and sat back beside him on the sofa. 

"This is for you. I want to accept the mating bond." Those words, spoken so softly in the dead of night, in a house that had seen so much joy and heartache before, were enough to set Azriel alight. He had no words to describe the feeling that was coursing through him as he looked between you and the cake you held out towards him.

His hands moved on their own accord as he took the dish from you, noticing the sugar icing that had been meticulously drizzled onto the soft sponge and the sweet little decorative flower you had piped into the centre. Just from looking at it, he could tell you had baked this cake and poured every ounce of feeling into it, and he felt himself getting choked up at the thought. 

"Are you sure?" He whispered, and the vulnerable look on that face was enough to break your heart. 

"Yes. I have loved you for years, Az and the snapping of the bond in place made it seem as if the Mother and the Cauldron had finally listened to all those prayers I sent them. I baked this earlier to give it to you after we had returned from a successful meeting at the Court of Nightmares," his lips quirked ever so slightly at the sarcasm that dripped from your voice, "it may not be the moment I intended; but it's still perfect anyway. It's a larger version of those lemon sponges you love from that bakery we found last year. The owner gave me the recipe. I want you, Azriel."

Azriel had given up on finding his mate, resigned to always wondering. When you had crash-landed into his life a handful of years ago, he had silently hoped it would be you, and when he had tripped and fallen head-first in love with you, he had begun to beg that the mating bond would snap one day. So many years of yearning for you, unaware that you felt the same, that you were begging for it to be him as well. So many wasted years. And when the mating bond had finally snapped, when you had returned from a month-long summit at the Day Court and taken one look at him, he had almost fallen to his knees then and there. 

He had finally found you, and you wanted him back. Words would come to him later, spoken against the soft sheets of your bed, in between feverish kisses and in the afterglow of what was to come, so for now, he held your gaze as he lifted the small slice you had cut for him and took a bite. 

"Az, baby. I need to put the cake in the oven." Your words brought him out of the daydream he had been enjoying and back to the present moment. He chuckled and kissed your temple before unwinding from your body and taking a step back so you could move to put the cake tin in your hands and into the oven. 

He leaned back against the counter as he watched you carefully manoeuvre it inside before triumphantly shutting the oven door and turning back to him with a satisfied smile. 

"Come here." He held out his hand, a gesture so similar to the one you had given him all those years ago that a smile danced on both of your faces. You let him pull you against his chest, one of his hands falling to your hips and the other coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently brushing some flour that had somehow made its way to your face.

"Happy 10-year anniversary, love." You whispered into the gentle silence, and the shadowsinger gave you a beautiful smile. 

"Happy 10 year anniversary, sweetheart." He whispered back as he closed the distance and gently pressed his lips to yours in a loving kiss that held 10 years of the most beautiful memories.  

Read Part 2 here!

[thehighladywrites]

— “You were flirting with me?”

pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

summary: You leave Azriel mid-makeout to debrief with your girls

warnings: suggestiveness, the ic being nosey, miscommunication, rhys and cassian knowingly riling az up, the girls get drunk and interrogate reader, the boys get drunk and interrogate az,

amara’s note: this might be the funniest thing i’ve ever written. also sorry for my absence i’m posting more soon💗💗

You’ve had a massive crush on Azriel since the day you met him. He didn’t really notice you and was somewhat nice to you.

Really, you had no idea how you started crushing on him, I mean he paid you no special attention or anything. Maybe it was because he was quiet, handsome, tall, dark, mysterious and only spoke when it was necessary. He also cracked jokes and flashed grins that made your heart flutter. The Mother knows how much it grated your nerves whenever a male tried to hit or talk to you when you clearly had no desire to.

Azriel was the complete opposite and you started worrying that you were the one who grated on his nerves everytime you tried speaking to him.

“Hi Azriel, how are you doing?” you noticed him sitting at the dining table, collected yourself and asked him.

“Good,” he said staring straight into your soul before he realized his answer wasn’t really socially appropriate so asked you, “How are you?”

You just smiled awkwardly and nodded, “I’m fine, thanks.”

And that was how 90% of your conversations went. There was no further comments or extra questions and fuck if it wasn’t awkward. You really wanted to get to know him but you also knew how impossible it was since even the people he had been friends with for half a millennium often considered him a mystery.

Sensing the weird energy in the room, you just swiftly said goodbye, not bothering to stay to hear his goodbye.

He wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to do something, perhaps eat brunch at the restaurant you talked about to Cassian but you were moving before he had the chance. Azriel got extremely annoyed with himself, wondering why the hell he couldn’t ask you out like a normal person.

With determination, he promised himself to try the next time.

—

The girls all knew about your very obvious crush on Azriel and encouraged you to approach him often. They were all mated and happy and you wish it was you, you that had a mate, you who got loved and kissed and hugged and fucked.

But you just had to be obsessed with a man that paid you no attention… Maybe that’s why you wanted him, you viewed him as a challenge, and you loved challenges. Despite wanting his attention and wanting to get to know him, you still had self-respect and didn’t act like a pathetic, desperate, love-sick puppy infront of him.

So you went from always greeting him and smiling at him, trying to initiate conversations to flat out ignoring him. I mean, he never talked to you first so maybe it was time to accept it and just admire him from afar.

—

Azriel began to sense a dullness in his days, a void he couldn't really pinpoint. He realized he hadn’t talked to you, or rather, you hadn't talked to him while he played it cool, trying not to make his beating heart obvious. He noticed the absence of your chatter, questions and lovely voice, realizing that his days grew more mundane and boring without someone asking about his shadows, what his plans were, where he got Truth-Teller.

Azriel observed during dinner that you didn't glance at him once; your attention was solely on the girls or his brothers. You chose to stand up, walk across the dining room and grab the bowl of potatoes beside him instead of asking him for it, and it really irked him. Was he not worthy of passing a simple bowl of fucking potatoes?

He wondered if he had done something to make you avoid talking to him. Despite not being the most talkative person, he paid very close attention to everything you said, even if it seemed unnoticed. Azriel loved your presence and he thought he made his interest in you very clear when he looked at you.

Cassian had said girls like eye contact, still everytime he stared into your soul, you only looked weirded out. Was he doing it wrong? Maybe he wasn’t keeping eye contact long enough.

He had grown extremely fond of your talking and felt empty without it. Finding you alone in the kitchen while you prepared a quick breakfast, Azriel decided it was time to talk. The others had already headed to the training grounds as you had slept in. You were cooking your breakfast, not noticing Azriel.

“Hey.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, frozen in place as you slowly looked up at him. Was he really talking to you? But why?

“Yeah?”

He stayed quiet for a bit, just staring at you in that weird way he always did. Even though he wasn't sure if you liked him back and was afraid of rejection, he still wanted to talk to you.

“How have you been?”

You fight the urge to furrow your brows in confusion. Since when the hell did Azriel care? You were truly baffled and tried to act normal.

“Uh, I’ve been good, you?”

Azriel didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all.

Usually, you'd spontaneously share every detail of your morning routine, even without him asking. He fucking loved to listen as you talked about your broken hairbrush, the struggle of choosing clothes, the snug fit of your leathers due to gained muscles, and the morning hassle with your hair, prompting you to wake up 20 minutes earlier than usual.

“I’m okay. Have you done anything else today? How is your hairbrush?”

A stupid question really, but Azriel didn’t care. He wanted to see that familiar spark in your eyes as you talked about anything and everything. No way would he ever forgive himself if he ruined something between you.

Your face heated at the fact that he remembered such a minuscule detail about something you said weeks ago.

”Oh, the hairbrush? It broke so I got an enchanted one. Heard it's like a hair miracle, tried it, and it really worked. By the way, your hair looks good. Did you cut it lately?”

Azriel couldn't help but warm up at your rambling. His eyes widened at first, and then he threw his head back and laughed. The deep, rich sound was familiar, yet it never failed to feel like the first time. It was a beautiful and joyful melody that always managed to make you melt on the inside.

"I really missed you," he admitted, feeling your heart pound in your chest, unable to meet his gaze.

"You did?" Azriel's soft smile warmed your heart, the one you'd nearly missed.

"I did. I enjoy being around you and hearing your voice," he confessed.

"Oh, I always thought you didn’t." You couldn't help but feel a mix of surprise and relief.

Stepping closer, Azriel's presence loomed over you, his hand gently lifting your chin.

“Please, don’t misunderstand me. I’m sorry that my silence ever gave you that impression. I thought I was making my interest clear, to be honest,” he murmured, sincerity gleaming in his hazel eyes.

“Okay, I promise I won’t misunderstand again. But why did you think you made yourself clear?” you whispered, feeling a rush of energy as you locked eyes with him.

“Because I made a point of holding prolonged eye contact, thinking it was a clear signal of my interest,” he explained matter-of-factly.

You couldn't help but raise your eyebrows, suppressing a laugh. “So, all those times you were staring at me, you were actually flirting?”

Azriel's expression softened, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Well, yes. I thought you knew.”

Suppressing a giggle, you bit your lip and glanced away, not wanting to offend him.

“Ah, not exactly crystal clear, but I understand now. Let’s go for a walk and chat some more,” you suggested, linking your arm through his.

"Sounds perfect. Now, tell me about those new leathers you got," he said, his playful demeanor easing the tension, steering the conversation towards lighter topics.

—

Over the next few months, the bond between you and Azriel deepened. He trusted you with secrets of his life that remained hidden from everyone else. These private conversations became the pillars of your connection, sweet moments for you only.

As the months went by, an unspoken desire for more lingered between you and Azriel. Yet, despite the magnetic pull, something kept you from going the final step.

You've had countless close moments where you almost kissed, where just a tip-toe closer would have sealed the deal. But it never happened. So close, yet so frustratingly far away.

—

Mor's question disrupted the laughter and gossiping of the girls' night, the clinking of wine glasses punctuating the anticipation in the air.

"Remind me again why you and Azriel aren’t a couple?”

Mor's curiosity hung palpably, shifting the mood from gossiping to an interrogation.

“Well, it’s kinda complicated,” you replied, swirling the wine in your glass as you gathered your thoughts.

“We have a great connection, but there's this unspoken understanding between us. It’s like there's a boundary we're afraid to cross.”

Amren raised an eyebrow, her sharp eyes observing you closely. “Unspoken understanding? Fancy fucking excuse”

Elain giggled and nodded in agreement.

You chuckled, “Maybe it is, but it’s like we're both tiptoeing around something, afraid to ruin what we have. I mean, do I want to be with him? Yeah, I do. But we might fuck something up and I think we have too good of a relationship to throw it all away.”

Nesta leaned back with a smirk, “Sounds like a case of unresolved sexual tension. Maybe the only cure would be to finally get a good dicking.”

You shot her a look, “You make it sound like a medical condition. Also that has got to be some plot from your smutty books.”

Feyre chimed in, “Maybe it is. Maybe it's time you took a bold step to see what happens. Who knows, it might get you laid.”

The group erupted into laughter, but underneath it, you couldn’t ignore the truth in their words. You liked him, there was no denying it. But did he like you as much?

—

“Is she dating anyone?” Rhysand’s casual question caught Azriel off guard as he browsed his big wine selections with Cassian while the girls where out of the house.

Azriel feigned ignorance. “Who?”

Rhysand and Cassian exchanged a knowing look. “Y/N. Is she dating anyone?”

Something about the question irked Azriel. “Why the hell do you care?”

Rhysand shrugged nonchalantly. “Just curious. I might set her up with someone.”

Azriel's jaw clenched as he fought to mask his frustration. Rhysand's casual tone grated on his nerves, igniting a simmering jealousy he hadn't realized he harbored. Suppressing a sigh, he forced himself to respond evenly,

“She's a grown female, Rhys. She doesn't need you playing matchmaker for her.”

Cassian chuckled, sensing the tension in the air. “Easy, Az. No need to get defensive. I think little Y/N might want a lover of her own, no?”

Azriel's gaze hardened, a flicker of annoyance flashing in his eyes. “I'm not being defensive. I just don't appreciate your implication. And no, she doesn’t need some lover.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, his smirk bordering on mischief. “Interesting. And why is that?”

Before Azriel could formulate a response, you had returned with the girls, your laughter echoing through the room, shifting the focus away from the questions. Azriel sighed, silently cursing Rhysand's annoying questions and the unresolved feelings stirring within him.

—

You turned off the tap and brought the glass of water to your mouth, much needed after the amounts of wine you and the girls had downed. It was honestly a miracle Mor had the energy to winnow you to the house of wind.

As the girls walked to the library for more drinking, you snuck into the kitchen for some water.

You put down the tall glass of water, swallowing the refreshing and cool drink before your body tingle.

Your stomach flipped, blood heating as your skin broke out in goosebumps.

His presence was undeniable.

Azriel was here.

Turning around to leave the sink, you saw him standing there behind the island, looking at you with a soft look that made your stomach flutter and cheeks heat.

"Hi," Azriel greeted softly as you approached him.

"Hi, Az." you replied, feeling a surge of warmth at the sight of him.

"Did you have fun with the girls?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"Yeah, I did," you answered with a smile as you looked down.

Azriel's lips twitched, and he gently lifted your chin with his pointer and thumb. He looked down at your midnight blue dress and raised his brows

"You look absolutely breathtaking."

Your heart beat faster and faster and you were damn sure your friends upstairs could hear how hard it drummed against your chest.

You leaned into his touch, the move careful and intentional. Azriel’s thumb rubbed against your jaw, your eyes glistening in awe at his handsome self.

”Thank you. It’s nothing special, I just like the color.”

Azriel's gaze softened, his eyes lingering on yours with a tenderness that made your knees weak. "It's not just the color," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's you. You’re beautiful."

A blush crept up your cheeks at his words, and you bit your lip nervously, unsure how to respond to such sincerity. But damn, he looked good, and the alcohol in your system made you feel bold enough to speak your mind.

"You look really good," you said, your voice a little breathless. "This shirt suits you."

Stepping closer, you let your hand rest on his sturdy chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the tension between you palpable. Slowly, your hand traveled down to the planes of his stomach, each movement filled with anticipation.

As you looked up at him with a mischievous smile, you played with his belt, the air crackling with the electric energy of the moment. His reaction was immediate, his gaze flickering with desire as the tension between you reached its peak.

Azriel clenched his jaw, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your breaths mingled. The sudden proximity caught you off guard, making you gasp softly.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice low and tinged with desire. "Let's not do things we can't handle."

Your breath hitched at his words, a shiver running down your spine as his proximity sent electric sparks coursing through you. “That sounds like a challenge, Azriel,” you taunted, your voice barely a whisper.

Azriel’s smirk widened, his gaze burning with intensity. “Consider it an invitation.”

You looked at each other, breathing shallowly. Azriel’s intense gaze softened gradually as his eyes traveled further down to your lips. He swallowed, pupils wide with lust.

"May I-"

"Yes."

It was a tender, sweet kiss that caught you off guard in the best way possible. You didn't expect him to be so gentle, but you welcomed it wholeheartedly.

His touch was tender yet reassuring. One hand cradled the back of your head, while the other wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer to him.

You melted into his embrace, savoring every moment of closeness. Your hands found their way to his neck, clinging to him as if you never wanted to let go.

Azriel’s shadows swirled around you lazily, one trailing up your calf and causing you to twitch in surprise. Pulling back, you were met with his clouded, lustful eyes. A mixture of concern and confusion cleared up his hazy gaze.

Suddenly, the reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. Here you were, in the kitchen, making out with Azriel—the very male you'd had a crush on for what felt like an eternity. Panic surged through you, and you took a step back, needing a moment to collect yourself.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm, I’m fine, just give me one second,” you managed to stammer out before turning on your heel and practically stumbling out of the kitchen.

With your heart racing and your mind in a whirlwind, you burst into the library where the girls were lounging, each with a glass of wine in hand. Feyre perked up at your arrival, offering a lazy smile.

“There you are, was wondering where you went,” she mused, clearly already feeling the effects of the alcohol.

Without thought, you blurted out the bombshell news. “Guys, Azriel and I kissed.”

The revelation seemed to sober up the entire room, and suddenly, you were bombarded with questions and reactions from your friends.

“Oh my gods, finally,” Mor exclaimed, practically jumping in her seat

“Is he a good kisser? Was it rough or soft? How did he hold you?” Nesta fired off questions, her curiosity piqued.

”All of you owe me 10 cold coins each. I’m always right,” Feyre slumped back in her seat, sipping the wine as she nodded happily.

“I knew you were up to something while we were in here,” Amren chimed in with a knowing smirk.

You grinned widely as you shared all the details with the girls, who were just as excited as you were. They leaned in, eager to hear every bit of the story.

As the questions swirled around you, Elain’s confused expression brought the conversation to a halt.

“Wait, why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be kissing right now?” she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

You froze, the weight of her words sinking in. “Well, yes, we were just... making out, and I had to come here. I panicked.”

In response, your friends practically shoved you back outside, Nesta taking the lead. “And don’t you dare come back until your legs are shaking and you have a big smile on your face,” she declared with a mischievous grin.

You took a deep breath, suppressing your smile as you made your way back to the kitchen. Azriel stood there, leaning against the kitchen island with his feet crossed and arms over his chest.

“Are you sure you’re okay? We don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” he said, his voice laced with concern.

You softened at his words, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his neck. Pulling him down slightly, you gave him a loud kiss that ended with an audible "mwah."

"I really couldn't be more comfortable. I love you, Az. Like a whole lot," you confessed, your voice filled with sincerity and affection.

Azriel's eyes softened at your words, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and tender.

"I love you too," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "More than I can put into words."

You felt a rush of warmth flood through you at his admission, your heart fluttering with happiness. Without another word, you leaned in and kissed him again, the feeling of his lips against yours sending shivers down your spine.

Azriel grabbed your hips and slowly backed you into the kitchen island. You yelped when he picked you up and put you on the counter, deeping the kiss.

“Let me take you on a date. I want to do this properly,” he whispers breathlessly between kisses as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

You put your hands on his chest lovingly as you nod, smiling up at him. “I’d love that.”

—

extra scene where rhys and cassian visit azriel in the kitchen:

Azriel stood frozen as you left, his mind going into overdrive, worrying if he had done something wrong. Just as he was about to follow you, Rhys and Cassian popped their heads into the kitchen.

"Yo. Where did she go?" Cassian asked, scanning the empty kitchen.

Azriel furrowed his brows at the pair, or rather their heads.

"What the fuck are you doing here? Go before she comes back," he urged, shooing them away with his hand.

Rhys leaned against the kitchen island, a satisfied grin on his face. "It's about damn time."

Cassian nodded in agreement. "Fuck yeah, took him long enough. But hey, better late than never."

Azriel frowned, feeling the weight of their words. "You guys make it sound like it was some kind of mission."

Rhys chuckled. "In a way, it was. And you finally completed it."

Azriel sighed, "Stop talking like that, you sound fucking ancient.”

Cassian smirked at him, arms over his chest as he said “Y’all kissed?”

Azriel's cheeks flushed slightly at Cassian's question, but he maintained his composure. "Yeah, we did."

Rhys raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. "And?"

Azriel shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "And it was... nice."

Cassian laughed, clapping Azriel on the back. "Nice? Come on, tongue?”

"Yeah, tongue,” he said trying and failing to suppress a smile.

Rhys raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I knew it, you little freak. What else?”

Azriel's expression turned guarded. “Okay, that's all you dickheads need to know. Now, get the fuck out before she comes back.”

Rhysand’s eyebrows shot up, a finger wagging in Azriel’s face. “You better not fuck in my kitchen, I swear to the Mother, I’ll make you both scrub every inch.”

Azriel rolled his eyes and ushered them out, leaning against the kitchen island, waiting for you.

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (4)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: Angst, descriptions of pain

a/n: Thank you again for reading this series, I really love writing it :) More to come! I really really appreciate feedback, as always ♡

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ☆ Part 3 ✶ Part 5 ☁

Series Masterlist

~~

“It’s going to feel like a push,” Rhys explained, his fingers intertwined between his knees. “And then you’ll know I’m in your mind. It shouldn’t hurt—maybe just a pinch and then a pressure.” 

You nodded, clutching the arms of your chair with white-knuckled fingers. 

“He’s in my mind all the time. Uninvited, might I add. Doesn’t hurt, it’s just annoying,” Mor added. 

Turning your head in her direction, eyes downcast toward the floor, you nodded to her, too. 

The faelights gave the room a warm amber hue. It was the day after you met Rhys—or rather, became reacquainted with him—and the day he was going to look for your memories. Mor sat beside you, the blue dress she wore shimmering beneath the glow of the room, and Azriel stood guard by the door. What he was guarding you from, you had no idea, but the act seemed to comfort him. 

“Was Cassian busy?” you asked, and then immediately regretted it. 

It wasn’t Cassian’s job to be here. He was a grown man with a position in this court. He was busy, obviously. You also barely knew him. 

What a stupid question.

Rhys breathed through a smile, anyway. “He’s up at the camps today. But I’ll let him know you asked for him. He’ll love that.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—” 

“He’ll love it. I was being genuine,” Rhys comforted, interrupting the anxiousness rising in your tone. “Should we get started?”

You took a deep breath meant to rid the feeling of nausea overtaking you. It didn’t work. 

“Yes,” you replied, easing your trembling fingers into your lap. “Yes, I’m ready.” 

Rhys kicked up from the table he was leaning against, spinning a chair around in front of you. He sat, and the instant his knees bent to make the descent, Azriel was out from his hiding place in the dark. He loomed over the High Lord, shadows agitated, wings tucked in tight. To his credit, Rhys only gave the new, menacing presence a quick glance. 

“Should I keep my eyes open? Or do we have to touch or—” 

“Just relax,” Rhys offered. “With everything going on, your mind should be wide open. This will be simple and fast. I promise.” 

A promise from a High Lord—from your family, you reminded yourself. This was going to be fine. You doubled up on tonics this morning, so the pain in your head was minimal and you were safe here.

This was going to be fine. 

You hadn't even noticed the rapid pace of your breath until Azriel’s shadows came to wind around your shoulders, the quick uptick of the darkness more telling than anything else. The small wisps traveled up and down with the rhythm of your breath until it began to even out, and then they curled around your cheeks as if to caress you. When they made the occasional pass by your ears, it felt as if you were being told secrets—as if you were important enough to know something no one else did. 

Yes, this was going to be fine. 

Rhys cleared his throat. 

The first step into your mind was jarring, the sensation making you physically jump. Rhys seemed to raise a hand up at the entry—to knock on something or open it up—but he passed through a permeable wall instead. He passed through with ease. 

The High Lord made a low, surprised sound that echoed in the room. 

“What?” Azriel gruffly asked. 

Rhys paused. “Well, nothing, I just—I just expected some of her magic to have remained where it was. For some of it to be protecting her mind.” 

“Magic?” you whispered. 

Azriel’s eyes snapped to you as if on instinct—as if the sound of your voice was simply something he always followed—but his expression did not match the sentiment. He looked haunted, a shadow cast over the grim line of his mouth. 

“I have magic?” 

Your whisper was cut off by a sharp intake of air. Rhys had moved on from the outskirts of your mind, each step deeper a clicking echo in the stark chamber. He went in directions that felt practiced, like he’d been here before but everything had been rearranged, removed. 

You watched as the High Lord ran a rough hand over his mouth, his brows furrowed in concentration. 

Mor placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

Azriel watched the man within your mind, a preternatural stillness stiffening his limbs.

“It’s like you’ve been wiped.” Rhys shook his head. “But that doesn’t make any sense. You still know language, you know how to—to be fae. But everything else is…” 

Within your mind, you felt a darkness roll from Rhys. He was sending something out, inspecting the area. The pain began then, but you weren’t going to tell them. You weren’t going to break and ruin something else. 

The darkness invaded small crevices in your mind, sleuthing and slinking in areas you hadn’t been aware of yourself. More pressure built up behind your skull. 

You could still manage it. 

The air was knocked from your lungs, but you could still manage it. 

“Rhysand,” Azriel warned. Blue began to overpower the orange glow of the room. 

“I think I’m almost somewhere,” the High Lord replied. 

“She’s—” 

“Keep going,” you gritted out. “It just feels odd,” you lied. “I’m okay, keep going.” 

Azriel shook his head, face twisting in an expression of grief that almost had you taking back your words. He abandoned his observation of Rhys and approached your chair, kneeling down next to you, the bone of his knee harshly pressing against the floor. 

He nodded, something resolute in his eyes. “Okay. Okay, whatever you want.” 

From beside you, you heard Mor’s pained sigh, felt her turn to look away.

You tore your eyes from the piousness before you, but Azriel did not budge. His elbow came to rest on the flat surface of his thigh, his fingers extending out to touch the wooden leg of your chair. 

“Please, keep going.” 

Rhys nodded. The darkness in your mind expanded. It flowed like a cloud rolling out before a storm, reaching every corner of unsearched territory. There was nothing it couldn’t reach, and good, let it fill you up. Let it consume your mind because it was no use to you in this state. Azriel was kneeling before you, desperate and scared, and you couldn’t understand why, so let the darkness become you. 

If it led to understanding, to your life, you would withstand this pain. 

The first scream that left you ripped through the air like a strike, unsettling any gentleness that had resided in the small office. Rhys had found something; his darkness had collided with a wall—the only wall, only structure, in your mind—and he had gone to investigate. With the simple press of his hand against the sturdy cobalt, a blinding pain found a home in your skull. 

Azriel jolted, the fingers that had gripped your chair flying to cover your knee. 

You screamed again. And again. 

“Stop! Enough, Rhysand. Get out of her head,” Azriel ordered, but he sounded as if he were underwater. He raised his voice above your screams but he sounded so far away. 

You collapsed forward, hands coming up to cradle your head. There was a touch at your back, maybe another along your hair—you couldn’t tell. The pain was too great. 

“There’s a wall. Something foreign. The energy isn’t hers,” Rhys called. He sounded distant as well. 

The world grew light. 

“I don’t care,” Azriel gritted out. “We can try again later. She’s going to pass out and last time—” 

“Keep… going,” you panted, fighting past the pain to insert yourself into the conversation.

This was your decision, your mind. Your life that was torn away. 

“Y/n, please. You don’t understand,” Azriel begged, shifting forward and gripping your wrists in his scarred hands. “This isn’t good for you. This isn’t—please.” 

Sweat beaded at your brow. Rhys’s presence hadn’t left your mind. “I have… to know. Have to try.” 

“Rhys, maybe we shouldn’t—” Mor began in a soft, hesitant voice. 

“Go.” With a simple word from you, Rhys bypassed all else. 

Pain exploded at the first talon scratching down the slope of the foreign wall. You surpassed screams, your voice breaking at the peak of the most violent one. At some point, the hands on your head were replaced by larger ones, and you found the texture of them to be a grounding point. Something about the feeling was familiar, like your skin was used to the patterns, the raised edges and the divots along fingers. They traced soothing shapes along your cheeks, dried tears you didn’t realize were cascading down your face. 

And then Rhys stood abruptly, his chair rocking back and forth with his departure. The pain dulled, leaving you with heavy breaths and a lingering ache you weren’t sure would ever go away. 

“You’re okay, angel. You’re okay.” 

Breathing in was difficult. The world felt off its axis. 

Pale-faced and blinking, Rhys breathed out, “We need to go to Helion.” 

You gathered the strength to look up further. 

Azriel’s expression crumbled, his beautiful face only inches from yours and filled with such dread that when you succumbed to the lightness creeping into your vision, you feared the descent. 

~~

Your loss of consciousness was brief, which was, apparently, very unexpected. 

Your once stiff chair was no longer beneath you, and where you expected to be folded up into an uncomfortable shape and cold, you were instead held against a warm, vibrating presence. 

No, not vibrating, that wasn’t right. Just speaking—you were being held by someone and they were speaking. 

“—back there. Rhys, it’s not a good idea. If you said it was the same energy from before, we can’t—I can’t—” 

“He is gone, Az. You know that. Bringing her there would only serve to help her. You know Helion would go to lengths…” 

Your comprehension faded in and out, matching the swells of pain in your head. You were reluctant to open your eyes and welcome the assault of light and sensation that would surely greet you when you did. 

There was a soft lull in the conversation, although you couldn’t decipher where it had left off. You felt a light pressure along your face and welcomed the relief and comfort that came with it. Some of the ache dissipated along the path of the touch. 

“Her screams,” you heard Azriel stress, and it felt as if his words were spoken against your skin. “They were so reminiscent of that night. All of this is.” 

“I know, brother,” Rhys replied. 

“I don’t know if I can do this. If I can survive this.”

A sniff. Something wet along your jaw. The chest you were pressed against seemed to tremble. 

“You have to. She’ll need you when she comes out on the other side of this.” 

“I know,” Azriel whispered, words weaker but somehow even closer. “I know.” 

Disregarding all of your senses that argued against it, you cracked your eyes open. The lights were still low, but even that fact didn’t stop the burning behind your eyes from amplifying. A repercussion from Rhysand’s investigation, surely. 

Whoever was left in the room gave you time to adjust, no one speaking or moving or expecting anything from you other than breath. You felt the hold on you loosen, but not withdraw. 

Part of you, a deep, intrinsic part, knew it was Azriel. His voice and his scent and the feel of his body seemed to be things you could recognize even when nothing else made sense. So, you knew it was him holding you from the moment your mind began to catch up with the environment. 

And still, seeing him so close, feeling him against you—it was a shock to your already overwhelmed system. 

You groaned, face scrunching as you tried to gather your bearings. Azriel’s legs shifted, and your body moved along with them. The motion served as a catalyst in your effort to sit up. 

“Hey, hold on,” Azriel cautioned. Hearing his voice so soft—so careful—had you blinking, trying to parse out what was real and what was still hazy.

“Did…did we figure out what was wrong?” you asked, groggy. “Did you find anything?” 

You turned your head with sharp momentum, regretting the act as soon as you did it. But you didn’t have time for pain—for fear. Rhys looked back at you with a sympathetic smile, both of you ignoring the sound of protest from Azriel at your movement. 

His hand moved to rest along the back of your neck as Rhys spoke, keeping your head in one place. Keeping it supported and still. 

You didn’t have the energy to shake it off. 

Did you want to? 

“I found something. Not as much as I’d have liked, but it’s something to go off of. We’ll… have to go to Day. There’s more information there. I’ve sent Mor to sort out the logistics.” 

A glance around the room confirmed that the blonde was no longer there. It must have been a quick decision to send her away. As quick as Azriel tugging you out of your chair and holding you on the floor. 

Rhys didn’t seem uncomfortable by the display, but of course he wouldn’t—not if his goal was to drive two enemies back into friendship. 

If you were ever even friends to begin with.

The trajectory of your thoughts made you grimace in Azriel’s arms, and even though your entire body protested it, you shifted away from him, hands coming down to the floor to support your weight. A soft grunt left you.

Why did a search through your mind leave you so weak? 

“My lo—y/n, stop,” Azriel fumbled over his words, reaching out for you. 

But with confusion and pain marring your state of mind—causing your usually perfectly practiced, patient replies to skew—you only struggled more and pushed farther away. There were too many unknowns, too many questions, too many feelings surrounding this man who looked at you as if you were never-ending but pushed you away as if you were finite. 

You couldn’t take it. 

And maybe this is how you—the real you, the one with her memories—would react, anyway. Everyone always seemed to expect a strong will and unyielding tenacity, their disappointment at your meekness glaringly obvious. 

Maybe you were supposed to fight against these secrets and this pain. 

“I’ve got it,” you grunted out, pushing closer to the desk, closer to the rift you didn’t understand between you and Azriel. 

You wanted Mor back. 

She made more sense. 

Looking up from your struggle, you caught Azriel and Rhysand in the midst of a staring match, their expressions firm and drawn. With what you now understood about Rhys and his powers, you were sure they were communicating somehow. 

When Rhys spoke next, your hypothesis was only confirmed. “Az is going to take you back to your room,” he said, eyes never leaving the shadowsinger. “He’s going to help you pack.” 

When the High Lord left, the door clicking shut with finality, tension blanketed the room. The worst part of it all was your lack of context. Something big was happening, something immeasurable, and you had no upper hand—not even a foot on the ground. 

You looked down at your palms and then back up at Azriel. He had yet to move from his position kneeling before you, hands still outstretched in some fruitless reach, elbows bent and tense against his sides.

You wanted Mor back. 

She seemed to love you—to want you here.

“I can get back to my room on my own,” you offered, and even though the words were barely a whisper, they were resounding in the silent room. 

Azriel licked his lips and looked down. When his hands fell to his sides, you took that as compliance, as acceptance. On shaking arms, you attempted to lift yourself up. 

“I haven’t been doing this right.” Your unsuccessful attempt abruptly ceased. Azriel continued. “I barely got it right the first time. This time… this time I—” 

“It’s okay, Azriel. I understand, I think.” 

Hazel eyes met yours, the collection of colors confused beneath furrowed brows. 

You so badly wanted to soothe away all of the unease within them, to brush your thumb along his brow even though you were sure he wouldn’t want to do the same—not without his family present to witness it. 

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

You wanted to sigh, but too much air might’ve made you pass out again. Instead, you bit the inside of your cheek, twisting your lips as you considered the best way to phrase the thoughts that had been plaguing you. 

“No one will tell me about you—about who we were to each other before I lost everything. I thought maybe it was because you were going to tell me, but then you wanted nothing to do with me and I understood a little better. I understood that maybe we weren’t friends before all of this. And that’s okay, I know that we lived lives that I can’t remember. 

“But then… sometimes you do things that don’t make sense to me. You say things that don’t add up with what I’ve come to terms with and I think… I think my mind and my body get confused. It’s strange,” you admitted, using what little strength you still coveted to push yourself back against Rhys’s desk. “But I think I understand now. And I’m sorry if I make it weird. I think that even if my mind understands who you are to me, there are other parts that don’t quite catch up.” 

“And who am I to you?” Azriel asked, voice raw. 

You looked up from your fingers to meet his gaze again, greedily relishing in the calm they provided you. It was always calm there. “I don’t know. But I know I don’t have the honor of meaning anything to you. Maybe we didn’t get along, or maybe we just never meshed. But I can tell you struggle with this new role—whatever it is the Inner Circle has asked you to do with me. I can tell this isn’t natural for you, spending time with me, trying to be my friend.” 

Azriel fell further back on his ankles, his wings unfurling from their tight coil to drape along the floor in a defeated posture. It looked wrong; you’d been around these men and their wings and they never dragged. 

Azriel’s mouth parted slightly, his jaw off-centered. His gaze left you in favor of staring at the floor, and you surmised that you caught him. You figured him out. This pawn he had become—you had freed him from the game. 

But then sighed and he said, “No,” and the word was whispered with so much sadness that none of this felt like a game anymore. Not that it was fun; this had never been fun.

“No,” he repeated. “Y/n, spending time with you—being around you—it’s as natural as breathing for me.” He looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head. “Gods, I’ve done this so wrong.” 

“Azriel, it’s—” 

“Even just hearing you say my name. After so many days without it, I could sit and just listen to you talk and I would be content.” 

Your fingers felt numb. 

Azriel stopped staring at the ceiling. 

“We have always meshed,” he said. “I was being selfish—avoiding you when I shouldn’t have. The truth, y/n, is that we are close. Very close. Rhysand, Mor, Cassian—they don’t have to ask me to forge some… bond with you because that has already been 300 years in the making.” 

“But at lunch and every time I—” 

“It’s hard and I have been a coward,” Azirel interrupted, shifting forward until his knees brushed against yours on the ground. “This has been inexplicably harder for you and I have been a coward and there is no part of me that wants to be away from you.” 

It somehow felt as if your life was turning upside down again because you had made conclusions and assumptions and none of them were right. You had come to terms with the fact that you felt safest with a man who wanted nothing to do with you and had mourned the loss already. It had been strange to mourn something you had only just gained, but it had felt even stranger to lose Azriel. 

It hadn’t felt right.

“So we’re friends?” you tentatively asked, feeling the wooden corner of the desk dig into your spine. 

Azriel swallowed. “Yes.” 

“And you… like being my friend?” 

“Very much.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Azriel laughed, the sound so startlingly joyous you felt it swelling in your own chest. It filled you up, consumed you, and you wished for a long moment that you hadn’t been so willing to allow Rhys’s darkness into the crevices of your mind. This feeling belonged there. Only this. 

“I am positive,” he assured, a smile lingering on his face. “Being your friend has been my crowning achievement for the last three centuries.” 

“That doesn’t seem like much of an achievement,” you replied, the snark in your tone surprising you. 

It seemed to surprise Azriel as well, his brows shooting to his hairline. “Fortunately, you are not the authority on my achievements, especially since you don’t remember them and can’t recall how amazing it is to be your friend.” 

He kept tripping over that word—friend. 

You decided to ignore it, too pleased by the way you made Azriel laugh and smile and not look at you the way he had been for the past several days. 

And something was glowing in your chest, something that seemed to replace the near-constant ache you had grown so accustomed to. 

Later, you would ask more questions. Later, you would ask Azriel about Day Court and the reason why he silently panicked every time you ran your hand along your temple to ease the pressure there. 

But for now, you smiled at the shadowsinger, and he smiled back.

Part 5 ☁

[divinemare]

✧*̥₊˚‧☆ﾐ 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖐 𝖙𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖘!¡ •ଓ.°

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ azrielxfem!oc

part nine

𓆝 𓆜 ––––———–––––———–┊⁀➷

More pirates she had imagined joined them after her speech. She would forever be infinitely grateful with her people, whoever said pirates didn’t had a code or loyalty, had been wrong. You don’t hit a pirate, because they will bounce off the depths of the oceans and hit you back. And Hybern was just about to learn that.

Just as she had told him, Kallistrade meet the Prince of Merchants and his ships in their way to Prythian. She was…impressed, she had to admit to herself. Especially when, after winnowing to the main ship —the Nesta, she noticed with a smile, looking back at the Elain, and the Feyre that trailed behind it—, she saw the presence of a female that had become a whisper of a living myth; queen Vassa accompanied the human man, alongside a red head High Fae male she recognize for the similarities he shared with his family.

Lucien Vanserra.

What a truly mysterious and strange combination of people.

“Captan Devilsbane, your fleet looks as mighty as the legends sing them to be,” the male bowed slightly his head.

There was something about him that didn’t suit entirely right with the picture she had in her memories about the Vanserra family, maybe it had been too long since she’d seen them, or maybe…maybe Lucien was…somewhat different, but Kallistrade couldn’t exactly place how.

“Hybern has a debt to pay, and we’re ready to not let them forget.”

“So, the rumors are true, you became quite the terrifying pirate,” she heard a voice behind her.

A voice she hadn’t heard in so, so long that for a moment she had forgotten who it belonged to. But just as she turned around, not even 500 years could erase Drakon and Miryam’s faces. Especially the female’s, who had held her tightly while she screamed and cried and grieved when Kallistrade had found out of her brother’s death.

A light in her chest she had almost forgotten it existen lighten up. That side of her she had felt come back to life when she first saw Azriel slipped for a split second in her face.

“You motherfuckers,” she laughed, delighted, a happiness she had missed in her chest beaming as she approached the couple and hugged them both tightly.

“Careful, you don’t look too terrifying now,” Drakon laughed, but Kallistrade only pushed him away playfully.

Definitely, going back to Prythian, going back to Velaris and back to her old family, had revived something dead inside of her, she now felt it within her with the joy of that new re encounter.

“Shut up, or I’ll throw you off the plank and into the sea,” he laughed again, his brown eyes squinting.

“Now that’s more like it.”

She hugged only Miryam this time, flipping off Drakon. The last time Kallistrade had been in those arms, her world was falling apart in front of her and her heart was being shredded to pieces. Now, five centuries later, everything couldn’t be any more different.

“You look so…” When they parted, and the half-breed female took complete look of her, she sighed. “So different,” she said it with a certain pride that made Kallistrade’s heart warm.

“Different good? Or different bad?” She raised a wicked eyebrow, and gave Miryam a lopsided grin.

“Good, very good,” the sweet female voice brought back memories, both good and bad, that this time, Kallistrade did not shot down in the back of her head.

She was done with that, with the whole shoving-down-things. Her past was past and her present was present, no need to be bitter with any of them, not when she was given a second opportunity to have the best of both.

“I don’t know, those red blood lips look like you sucked someone’s blood dry, which I’m not entirely sure you didn’t do,” Drakon said, twisting his head to one side with an apprehensive look, but at Kallistrade’s light punch, he laughed.

“Are all those yours?” Miryam asked, looking back at the exactly 13 ships filled with men.

“That they are,” she gave them a wolfish grin, and Drakon nodded, impressed.

“I don’t know wether to be impressed or scared, they look positively cruel and wicked.”

“Well thank you! I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Miryam smiled widely and lovingly, having been there and seen Kallistrade, 500 years ago, in such a horrible, heartbroken state, she was infinitely proud of the female she now encountered; brave, wicked, full of new life.

“Will you care to join us for strategy?” Miryam asked, and Kallistrade smiled with a nod.

“Let’s see how rusted you are after so many centuries off in that little hidden island of yours, little bird,” the pirate said directly to Drakon, and the male followed her with challenging eyes, Miryam behind them, shaking her head with a joyful smile.

One would think that they weren’t just about to enter war, by the smiles plastered on their faces. But for Kallistrade, smiling was easier than allowing her treacherous brain and heart to think about Azriel, to think about her family, and if they might be dead when she arrived, that she might not make it in time. She couldn’t allow herself to think that, because now, she had to be the Pirate, the Captain Devilsbane, and lead a fleet of pirates into a Mother damned, bloody war.

𓆉｡˚ ✧

They were losing, Hybern was crashing into them with no mercy, no matter how strong their forces were, no matter how strong their men were, Hybern’s seemed to be stronger.

A miracle…they needed a miracle…

And a miracle had just arrived.

Drakon’s Seraphim legion, alongside Miryam’s and Vaasa’s people and…and her father, had arrived. But it had been the dark, big ships that had stolen their attention after her father’s, the dark ships that seemed to absorbe life itself and take power from it. The ships that contained so many sailors of every species Feyre could imagine that they looked like a combination of death in all possible colors.

They couldn’t be mistaken, by anyone who dared to look at them. They were fatal, they were wicked, they were twisted in a way that inspired admiration and dread and exhilaration all at once. Those ships were unique, dreaded in every corner of the Continent, in every corner of the world, so many songs had been made of them, those were ships that had inspired fear and respect everywhere they went. Those were…

Pirate ships. More than a dozen pirate ships. Their skull flags waved with the heavy wind. They were so big, dark, imposing, with sculptures carved at their noses that pointed fingers, wings, horns and even fangs at the ships from Hybern.

At the very front, leading the other ships, was the most terrifying, imposing one, the sea itself seemed to open a path for it, seemed to hit its waves in its favor.

Feyre knew that ship, she had had the same reaction she was having now the first time she saw it. The Bright Nightmare stole her breath. She swallowed hard, and prayed the Mother to never face the terrors that ship had surely produced to so many others.

Then, as if the rush of her heart and the tears that streamed down her face weren’t already enough, a low, yet powerful and dark female voice began to sing. Everyone who had enhanced Fae ears could hear it, and she instantly felt Rhys shiver at the recognition of whatever song started playing. Like a death sentence, a death promise, a chant so old that few knew it, but a chant so dreaded that everyone who did, shivered at its machiavelli sound.

𓆉｡˚ ✧

The words started slipping out of her mouth like an old prayer. The battle ahead of her had stoped partially, many praying eyes now looking their way, the ships already in bay had stoped their shooting, hers and those accompanying, had stolen their attention away.

“The King and his men stole the queen from her bed”

Kallistrade sang low, but was sure that every Fae around her could hear her, the men from her ships waited eagerly as well. The sound of cracking wood accompanied her every word, giving a more sinister touch to the song that had been sang for centuries amongst pirates before battle.

“And bound her in her bones”

Every word, every note, felt tingling in her mouth. The feeling spread out to her entire body, pounding strongly and eagerly in her heart.

“The seas be ours and by the powers”

Her hands began to tingle with the anticipation, she could already feel the blood in them, taste it in her mouth, even. She took a hand towards her belt, towards her sword, just as the last words spilled from her tongue in a death-coated note.

“Where we will, we’ll roam”

Kallistrade took out Seesnyer, and pointed its sharp tip towards Hybern’s ships.

Then a wicked symphony erupted, every pirate around her, from every ship surrounding her, from the smallest to the biggest, Fae and Human, Captains and commanders and first mates and all crew members alike sang together their ancient battle song.

“Yo, ho, haul together

Hoist the colors high”

Canons began to be pointed, swords and weapons to be drawn, their symphony accompanying that of the death promising words being sang by so many they became a loud, terrifying sound.

“Heave-ho, thieves and beggars”

They heard orders being shout out at the other end, enemy ships frantically trying to shift their weaponry towards them.

“Never shall we die”

Then real hell broke loose, and Kallistrade let herself be carried by it.

𓆉｡˚ ✧

She had come, she had really come. Azriel stared at the sea in front with his heart leaping out of his chest. The exhaustion that had consumed his body seconds ago could not compare with the rush of exhilaration when he heard the infamous pirate song.

He couldn’t fly, he couldn’t go up into the sky to see in a better view, but he knew it was her voice the one who started the song, he knew it her ship leading the armada of pirates, he knew it was her, that it was Kallistrade who had come to their aid.

Azriel had avoided thinking of her in those days they had been apart, he had avoided her name, the picture of her face in his head, the thought of her never coming back, and the thought of her coming back as well. It all had been useless, tho, he hadn’t been able to do any of those things. He hadn’t been able to avoid his stupid heart beaming with hope every time he went to sleep, and every time he woke up, waiting to see her sail back to him.

And there she was, just as he had thought that today was his final battle, his final breath of air, his final day on this earth with only her filling his thoughts, when the song he had heard of, the song every sailor dreaded ever hearing, began to sound.

It was wicked, it was dark, it was a lot of things, evil and twisted, but beaming like a light of hope for those in desperate need of it. For him, especially, not because he felt his body protesting with each thrust of his sword, his wings snarling with pain and his energy giving in the exhaustion, but because once he heard her, once the ships were visible enough for him to see the female standing atop the biggest of them all, her twisted, wicked sword pointed at Hybern’s armada, he felt a rush of energy, the necessary to fight off the enemies that continued to approach him in hopes of finally killing him, instead killing them all.

Kallistrade had come, she had truly come back, and as his body regained energy, taking it from a source he couldn’t yet place, a knowing voice in his head told him in whispers what his heart had been too stubborn to listen and accept.

𓆉｡˚ ✧

From the moment the first canon shot, up until now, Kallistrade hadn’t stop slicing through enemies and wrecking ships.

First, she had fought alongside Zena in the nearest ship they had winnowed to, slashing through soldiers while giving time to Rafe and Tiam, a member of her Dark Dream crew, to blow up the damned thing.

Then she had winnowed to the next ship, and the next, and the next, either from the enemie’s side or her own to aid whoever needed it. Pirates were being absolutely ruthless, leaving no time for pleadings of mercy, she herself was giving no time as she cut sailor to sailor, the cold dread of their faces at the realization of who had come to aid Prythian, of the Bright Nightmares firing canon after canon with deadly precision, and who was its Captain, being the last thing she saw of them before killing then off.

Kallistrade didn’t bother entertaining with soldiers, she let Seesnyer and Dark Wilder cut through them like paper without great effort. She was waiting for the big fish to come out and play. Waiting for the face of the male that had tormented her nightmares for 500 years. Then she’ll start having fun.

She danced through each fight, her movements soft as silk but brutal as both weapons in her hands, the power they gave her made the effort of her muscles that ached feel like an inconvenience, not an impediment.

She heard screams at the other side, ships, part of her armada, where sinking in flames as their sailors jumped into the ocean in an attempt to avoid death. She cursed, locating the Hybern ship that had gone out of formation to fire brutal shots at her ranks. Winnowing too much could waste her energy more than needed, so she put her fingers in her lips and whistled a simple tune, then dropped the body that had been impaled with Seesnyer, and, nobody left in the ship to fight off, she momentarily put her sword and dagger back in her belt to take impulse, then go running to the edge of the ship and jumped into the air.

Gravity tucked at her for a couple of seconds, until strong hands grasped her arms and hurled her up and up and up. When she tilted her head, Kaena winked at her Captain, her great Illyrian wings carrying them towards the ship that was making theirs sink.

Once they arrived, Kaena dropped her in the main deck carefully, Kallistrade fell on her feet with a powerful thud, and Kaena used her sword to destroy the masts.

They both fought side by side, until only few remained, and those who did, jumped into the ocean with hopes of surviving the merciless females.

Kallistrade took an axe from one of the fallen soldiers, then turn the rudder as hard as she could, and stuck it with the axe. The ship quickly began to turn sideways, and just as Kaena hurled her up into the air, it hit the side of another burning ship and sank into the ocean.

They returned to one of their ships, the one that was being worst attacked to help.

“Captain!” She heard a scream just as she cut with deadly precision the neck of a Hybern sailor in his knees.

Kallistrade turned to look at Maddox, who had just winnowed in, and was extremely glad to see that, up until now, he was still alive.

“Is there any problem?” Apart from the obvious, raging war behind them.

“You might wanna…” Maddox didn’t finish his sentence, only turned to look at the battlefield in land.

Kallistrade’s heart gave a full turn. She had been fighting off the feeling of uncertainty in her stomach since the moment she arrived, focusing on destroying as much enemies as she could, and not in the fact that she was losing her mind at not knowing where Rhys and Feyre, Cassian, Mor, Nesta, Amren, Elain…where Azriel was. Instead turning that rage, turning that preoccupation, in power capable of destroying ships.

She approached the front of the ship with her heart in her mouth, and, having cleared the ship of enemies, allowed herself a moment to scan the battlefield.

The first thing her eyes immediately found, as if it was a reflex to find him in a crowd, as if it was an instinct, was Azriel.

Being outnumbered, by five, his siphons almost drained, his wings tucked in…why were they tucked in? Why wasn’t he flying, why did she felt her hands shaking, as if his were shaking too?

“I can-”

Before Maddox could finish his offer of winnowing her so she didn’t waste any power, she disappeared with a jaw clenched, and Seesnyer burning in her tighten hand.

“Mother have mercy on them,” Maddox laughed, knowing very well that Kallistrade; wouldn’t.

She landed at the back of one of the five males, the one that was about to plunge his sword into Azriel’s stomach while the Shadowsinger fought two other off, and cut his head off with a clean swing of Seesnyer.

The five males around stoped to turn and look at her; the four of Hybern furrowing their brows with a superiority that suggested they not only didn’t know who she was, but that they were stupid enough to think she would be an easy prey. Azriel, instead, his eyes flashed with a sea of emotions that Kallistrade had no time to point them all, but he let out a ragged breath, and blinked three times, as if testing out the vision in front of him, as if confirming she was, in fact, real.

She was. Very fucking real, and those bastards were just about to be proven that.

She gave them a cruel, evil smile that could make a grown male shit his pants, and not a second later she started cutting into them as if they were nothing.

Azriel was paralyzed by the sight of her for a moment, just a tiny moment, until he saw a male approaching her other side, too close, too ready for the kill, and with gritted teeth, lunched into him like a shadow of death.

They fought them all off, and in seconds, their mocking, confident smiles had turned into pain grimaces that would be forever carved in their dying faces.

“You came,” Azriel breathed, once they gave each other a moment to breath and look into their eyes.

“I promised you I would.”

[danikamariewrites]

My Poor Shadowsinger

Azriel x reader

A/n: I saw this post on twitter of Rogue carrying Gambit and it said ‘can’t let the bros know I’m cool with this’ or something like that. Anyway it immediately made me think of the babying Az hc I wrote and I couldn’t focus on anything else until I wrote this.

Warnings: mentions of injuries

Now that Madja was gone and his brother’s fussing was over Azriel could finally relax. His latest mission was fairly easy, that was until the last day. It’s always the last day. Azriel had won the fight easily, the male who attacked him clearly didn’t know how to fight, just throwing his muscular body around and hoping to land a blow.

Not that Az would admit this but he got cocky, too cocky and the bastard got him with his knife leaving a wide gash across his chest.

As Azriel relaxed into his pillows, letting his eyes finally rest. Of course right at that moment the front door slammed against the wall, followed by your worried voice. Azriel sat up in anticipation of you entering his room. Bursting through the room with Cass and Rhys on your heels you stop on the threshold.

Dropping your bag you rest your hands above your heart, your face contorted in worry. Your eyes scanning the bandages wrapped around his strong chest. “Oh Azzy,” you say breathless. Rhys opens his mouth to tell you Azriel is fine but Cassian grasped his shoulder. The smirk on his face telling Rhys that he wanted to see how this went.

You rush over to his bed, curling up next to him and holding his head to your chest. Placing kisses all over his face and head you sway him gently. “Are you ok baby? I was so scared when Rhys told me you came home hurt.” leaning back you run your hands over his shoulders gently, making sure to not pull at the bandages.

To your surprise Az leaned into you accepting your loving attention. Not caring that his brothers were watching on. Resting his head against your chest again and wrapping his arms around your middle. “I’m ok, it just stings a lot.” You let out a sympathetic sound, running your hands through his dark hair.

“You poor thing. Rhys,” you turn to the High Lord with a slight scowl on your face, “why didn’t you tell me he was in pain?” Cassian and Rhys couldn’t believe what they were hearing. Their jaws open wide in shock. “I-he, are you kidding? He said he was fine! Az even kicked us out because he said ‘stop babying me, I’m a full grown male!’” Rhys complained.

Cassian was speechless. He couldn’t believe his brother was acting this way.

You let out a sound of disgust, untangling yourself from Azriel’s vice like hold. “Lay back Az,” you say in a soft tone, adjusting his pillows so he can be comfortable. “Are you hungry? What can I get you baby?” You coo at him while brushing his hair back from his slightly warm forehead. You click your tongue at the warmth. “Ugh and you’re warm, did Madja give you something to fight off a potential fever?”

Az nods against his pillows, “It’s downstairs will you get it for me? And can I have that sandwich that you always make, with the cold chicken and stuff?” His voice small and a slight pout on his plump lips. “Of course baby. I’ll be right back.” You kiss the pout from his lips and make your way downstairs with a disapproving look at Rhys.

They all watch you leave. Once you’re down the stairs Rhys and Cass walk over to the end of Azriel’s bed. The High Lord places his hands on his hips giving Azriel an exasperated look. “You are unbelievable.” All Azriel does is smirk at his brother, bringing his arms to rest behind his head. “Don’t lie, you let Feyre and Nesta baby you two.” His brothers scoff at the accusation.

“Nesta would never.” Cassian says dramatically. Rhys purses his lips and shakes his head. “Run along now,” Az says teasingly. “Let me enjoy my pampering in peace brothers.” Rhys shakes his head again as the pair laugh while leaving.

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Baby, Mine

Azriel x Reader - Angst/Fluff - One shot

Rhys returns from under the mountain and Azriel’s life is changed forever as a bond snaps with the female his brother brings back with him. After an unexpected pregnancy is revealed, Azriel strives to show his mate just how much she and their child mean to him. Please read warnings below.

Warnings: discussion of rape and S/A, pregnancy resulting from rape, mentions of trauma, language, mention of pregnancy termination

“We should get up. My stomach’s growling.”

“And I thought it was just the little one chatting with my shadows.” Azriel teased, flushing beneath her gaze as his scarred fingers traced lightly over the growing swell of her abdomen, becoming more apparent by the day. He’d been nervous touching it for the first time, like he’d desecrate that precious life force growing underneath with his hands that had inflicted so much pain. But the way her eyes lit up the first time he touched it, he never wanted to forget the feeling of love and joy radiating into him through that newfound bond. It was beautiful - made him feel worthy of helping raise the beautiful life she was bringing into the world.

Though her stomach growled again, she made no move to get up, and by the way her hands were holding onto him, Azriel knew better than to go retrieve a plate from the House of Wind’s kitchen for her. So he sent a shadow beneath the door to see if Nuala or Cerridwen were there and if they could bring leftovers in, that is if Cassian and Mor hadn’t devoured the entire breakfast already.

“How’s she doing?” Rhys asked into his mind.

“Better than some days but not great, Rhys.”

There was a pause before Rhys’ guilty voice reentered his conscious.

“She’s the most selfless person I know, Az. I’m glad you two have eachother. But if she needs anything, if you need anything, let me know.”

And she was. Selfless in a way that Azriel couldn’t fathom. Selfless in a way that made his gut churn, a way he wanted to roar at the moon and the stars, and anyone who would listen. Selfless when she should have never had to be. She was bright and radiant and kind. The world looked at her and saw ethereal sunshine, walking starlight, unfathomable beauty both inside and out. But there was darkness and pain there too, so buried down deep that only Azriel could feel it in the middle of the night as whimpers disrupted her sleep.

So many nights Rhys would have to come in and cradle her mind, send her soothing thoughts and visions of anything beautiful that could mask the perils that haunted her dreams.

Azriel hated himself for it, the jealousy. He wished he could soothe her in that way but no matter how much love he sent through their bond, that darkness rooted itself so deeply within her that sometimes it took significant power from Rhys to reach it.

As if Rhys wasn’t already fighting his own trauma and waging against the insurmountable guilt he carried after being under the mountain, plus worrying about Feyre in the Spring Court. And that wasn’t to say Y/N was a burden in any way, though she felt she was. It killed Azriel to see both his mate and his brother fighting so much grief and not being able to do anything about it.

She’d have been better suited to be Rhysand’s mate than Azriel’s own by their intertwined traumas, by their ability to put themselves aside for a better world. Azriel, of course, fit into this court of dreamers but she… despite only being here for such a short period of time, she was the biggest dreamer of them all.

Another rumble from her stomach snapped Azriel out of his thoughts, mentally noting to Rhys, “She could use breakfast.”

“I’ll send some for both of you. You need to take care of yourself too.”

Azriel smelled the salt of her tears before he saw the silver lining her eyes. Propping himself up on an elbow, draping a wing over her, he began to ask softly, “Hey-“. Her head immediately shaking and she choked on the word, “No.”

“Baby, I know what you’re thinking and it’s not a burden. He just wanted to know if you needed anything.”

She took a few deep breaths, willing away those tears. “He doesn’t have to check on me. It’s my f-“

“Stop that. Listen to me, I’m always here to listen to you and I know that you’re dealing with complex emotions and trauma that I cannot even begin to fully fathom but this.. it’s not your fault.”

Her eyes welled up further as Azriel continued,

“I don’t want to lecture you or invalidate what you are feeling. Your emotions are justified but… these thoughts will eat you alive, they’re vicious lies that have been conditioned into you, and I can promise you that nobody blames anything on you. This entire family is so fucking grateful to have you as a part of it. In a world of darkness, where you had every right, every reason to bring that darkness with you, you chose light.”

He choked on his words as those tears flowed down her face. “You chose light when it only brought more darkness upon yourself.”

She cut him off. “She’s not darkness.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow. “She?”

And through her tears, he saw the slightest gleam of radiance in her eyes. “I can just feel it. Feel her.”

Azriel pressed a kiss to Y/N’s belly. “Yes, you are absolutely right. She is not darkness - she’s a beacon of light, the brightest star in the sky, perhaps aside from her mother - but the mental load you are carrying, it is dark and it’s heavy. And yes, you would carry darkness with you regardless of this spark of hope” he rubbed her belly in tender circles for emphasis. “But I know that mind of yours. That you are telling yourself that you’re a burden, that you made the wrong choice, when there was no wrong choice.”

At this point, the tears were streaming down her face, his shadows dutifully whisking them away, but only gratitude and love flowed from her.

A knock came on the door. Azriel’s eyes glazed over as Y/N recognized the telltale signs of what was happening. A line creased in his brow before she placed a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s okay, he can come in.”

“You sure, my love? He understands when you need space.”

She nodded. “I know but I think I need to see him today.” Azriel brushed his thumb in soothing ministrations across her abdomen until she pulled her night gown back down to cover herself.

The door creaked open and Rhys padded over to the bed, guilt and adoration limning his features. “Hey, starshine.” She blushed at the term. She hated her own name after Amarantha had called it so many times under the mountain. Rhys had begun calling her Starshine in secret due to her Day Court origins and the fact that he was convinced she’d been more suited for the Night Court.

Rhys had been drawn to her under the mountain, something about her reminding him of his brother. Rhysand could admit that Azriel was the most beautiful of the three brothers, his features seemingly crafted by the gods themselves. But if Azriel’s features were crafted by the gods, Y/N’s were crafted by the Mother herself. Aside from that, she had a quiet presence, though far less stoic and broody than Azriel’s, it was more of a quiet, gentle grace. A grace that Amarantha had tried so hard to shed her of but was never quite successful.

Amarantha, of course, made it her mission to both seek pleasure from her and torment her. When she never fully broke, Amarantha decided that instead of throwing her to the dark corridors she stuffed most lesser fae in, she’d make an excellent play thing. She looked mostly High Fae after all, yet had enhanced sexual appeal due to her nymph ancestry - perfect high and round breasts, long legs, a firm yet supple ass, and an arousing scent - needless to say, Amarantha delighted to add her to her roster of bed chamber accompaniment.

Y/N and Rhys developed a quiet understanding of each other and the roles they were forced to play in the year that she’d been under the mountain before Feyre arrived. They did not grow close enough for Amarantha to become concerned but enough that she knew her play things got along well enough to bring them both into her chambers at the same time.

Rhys would never forget the first time Amarantha had forced he and her into her chambers at the same time. Y/N tried to be strong, and she was. Another aspect of her that reminded him of his brother.

But she began to crack slightly, and Rhys knew Amarantha would make it so much worse for her if she did. So he did the only thing he knew to do and held her mind. He showed her visions of the Night Skies of the Night Court, the spirits of Starfall, the laughter of a family surrounding a table in a beloved restaurant, anything that could help her through it.

As he held her mind, she’d unwittingly sent visions from throughout her twenty-two years of life prior to being captured and brought under the mountain. She was loved deeply by her family who had little more than love to give. Eventually they had been murdered by Amarantha’s cronies at the age of nineteen - she’d been able to escape and live among the High Fae who sneered and objectified her, but offered enough coin to sleep with her to keep a roof over her head.

Rhys had determined that night that if they ever made it out of there alive, he was taking her to Velaris with him. She’d never live like that again.

He even smiled at the thought of introducing her and Azriel when she was ready to meet his family, already picturing his brother’s rose-dusted cheeks in her presence.

“Thank you” Azriel’s low voice withdrew Rhys from his thoughts, taking the plate from his hands.

A familiar scent wafted off of Rhys to Y/N. Pregnancy had heightened her sense of smell substantially.

As she sniffed the air Rhys gave a soft, sad smile at the eye brow she raised at him before asking, “Where is she?”

He shook his head, darkness rolling in waves off of him. “Tamlin locked her in his fucking manor. She had a breakdown.”

Her face drew tight. “That bastard!” Azriel flinched at the rage flowing down the bond. “She must have been terrified.”

“She certainly terrified the servants in his manor. She shrouded herself in darkness and nobody could get through to her.”

“He doesn’t deserve her.”

Rhys nodded. “He doesn’t.”

“You didn’t answer my question, Rhys. Where is she?”

“At the Town House.”

Her eyes blew wide. “Cauldron boil me, is she staying?”

Azriel smiled as he felt her excitement flow into him. A bit of that Day Court sunshine returning to her.

“I don’t know. She knows she can’t tell anyone if she goes back, but…”

“I felt it through the bond, Y/N. I think she’s here to stay.”

Azriel’s shadows agitated at the pause in verbal conversation, chattering back and forth,

“Secrets”

“Secrets”

He rolled his eyes and dismissed them, already knowing there were some things that remained between just Y/N and Rhys. He’d accepted it the very moment he’d shown up after he received word that Rhys was finally home and the bond snapped as soon as he laid eyes upon the radiant female by his side. He knew it snapped for her too when she walked right up to him, touched the hands he tried to hide behind his back, her eyes speaking everything she couldn’t. “I see your scars. I bear them too.” And pressed a kiss to each hand.

“Do you want me to leave? I assume she’s at the Town House but I’m sure she’ll be visiting here too, yes?”

Azriel bristled. No way in hell was Rhys going to make his mate leave, whether this home was his or not, she had a right to be present wherever she wished.

“Easy brother.”

Azriel shook off the feeling. The mating instinct was still so strong that he had a hard time not jumping in to defend her at the thought of any threat, physical or emotional.

“Y/N” Rhys took her hand.

“Don’t bite my head off for holding her hand, either.”

Azriel huffed before firing back to Rhys’ mind “I can’t wait for you to find your mate someday so you can see what it feels like to be so wound up like this.”

Rhys only gave a small, secret smile in return.

Y/N interjected. “Are you two done gossiping or can I know whether I should pack up or not?”

“This is your home just as much as it is my home. You are my family and I want Feyre to meet all of you. Cassian has already barreled through the door of the Town House along with Mor begging to be fed. Feyre went up to nap and recollect herself.”

“Can we have dinner with her… if she wants to?” She asked softly with a mixture of excitement and nervousness to her voice.

Rhys gave a nod. “I was thinking that same thing. Would you be comfortable?”

She nodded before the reality of the situation caught up with her.

“Y/N.” Rhys leaned in, gently tilting her head up to look at him. “I am not ashamed of you. I will never hide you or the life you are selflessly bringing into this Court of Dreamers.” His eyes lined with silver. “And I will always be so proud of the love that you both share. I knew from the moment I met you that my brother would adore you. And the fact that you two are mates? It’s one of the greatest things to come from that shit hole of a mountain. A reminder of the beauty that can prevail, even after the most dreadful of circumstances. I love all three of you.”

Azriel held his mate closely, ensuring she felt just how loved she truly was.

“She kicked for the first time the other day.”

Rhys raised a brow.

Y/N let out a sigh. “Ugh, you two are so skeptical. I really believe that this baby is a girl.”

Rhys eyed the scarred hand protectively placed over her round bump, so many complicated emotions running through him, with love being the strongest.

“Feyre will likely ask questions tonight regarding all of us, our stories. Nobody has to share anything they do not wish to, but you also may share if you are comfortable doing so. I would really like for Feyre to become a member of the Inner Circle-“

Rhys looked to Y/N rolling his eyes at the smirk and waggling eyebrows she gave him.

“Stop that. My point is just that, I would like for her to know all of you. I know she’ll love you all just as I do. Hell, she’ll probably love all of you before she’s ready to even fully tolerate me.”

Azriel let out a chuckle as his mate quipped “Tell me the story of the time she threw a shoe at you. It’s my favorite!”

“You cruel, lovely little thing.” Rhys laughed. “See you both for dinner.”

As Rhys exited them room, Y/N sighed. “You were awfully quiet.”

Az nudged her. “And that surprises you?”

“Okay, quieter than usual.”

Azriel pulled her in close, peppering kisses across her forehead. “I just don’t want you to do anything you’re not ready for. You are still healing and now you’ll be facing someone else that was under the mountain with you.”

“She saved us all, Az.” She looked up into his hazel eyes with nothing but genuine adoration. “Without her, I never would have met you. And what kind of existence would that be?”

She began picking at the plate Rhys had brought in. Letting out a moan as the flavors burst on her tongue.

Az couldn’t help the involuntary twitch of his wings at the sound.

She laughed. “Don’t get any ideas until I’m finished with my food.”

Azriel raised his palms. “I’d never get between my pregnant mate and her meal. With the way she’s started moving, she’d likely kick me away anyway.”

She took another bite while nonchalantly commenting, “I thought of a name for her.”

���Oh yeah?” Azriel’s brows raised in anticipation of a potential name for their child.

“Azure. The same blue as the skies. I thought…”

Azriel cut her off, marveling at the name. Whispering more to himself than her. “Blue like the Day Court skies, blue like the skies that I love to take you flying in.”

She flushed. “Yes, exactly. And though it’s a different shade of blue, like your siphons.”

A lone tear escaped his eye. “And,” she continued with a coy smile. “We could call her ‘Az’”

Azriel sat still for a moment. And she would have thought he didn’t like it had it not been the rush of pure shock and awe flowing through the bond.

Suddenly he took her face in his hands, barely giving her time to swallow the bite of bacon she’d just taken, and crashed his lips into hers. And after her lips were swollen and puffy from the heat of his lips, he began pressing kisses all over her belly, whispering between them, “I love you, little Az. I love you more than the skies I fly in. More than my own name. More than any dreamer could dream of being loved. I can’t wait to fly you through the open skies, and show you every shade of blue this beautiful world has to offer. Nothing in this world matters more than you and your mother. I couldn’t be more proud to be your father.”

And he meant it. Every single word. The blood running through the baby growing inside of his mate didn’t need to be his, what mattered was the love flowing within the child and he intended to pour every single ounce of love he had into their baby.

It was Y/N though who broke down at those words. She and Azriel had spent every free moment together since meeting. He’d healed her in ways that she never could have dreamed. Finding her mate changed the time after Under the Mountain from the lonesome trauma reckoning hellhole she’d anticipated and into a time of healing. He listened to her, understood her, let her set the pace in every aspect. And he’d shared his trauma with her, all of it.

The child who had been abused by a wicked stepmother and horrid step-brothers, overlooked by his own father had grown up to be loving, caring, and patient in every way. And now, he was going to be the parent of a child that was not his by conception, choosing to love the child just as he would his very own. A vow he’d sworn in their mating vows and sealed with a bargain.

“What is it, love?” Azriel wiped away her tears.

“Stupid hormones. I just love you so much and I need you to know that you are so much more than I ever could have dreamed of. If I had to, I would go through it all again as long as it led me to you.”

Azriel’s eyes began watering again. “Look at us, Y/N. We’re quite a sight. Whatever you say tonight, just don’t let Cassian know that I’ve gotten so soft.”

Her glassy eyes sparkled as she gave a sweet smile. “I have a feeling that softness has already been there, my love, I just had the privilege of coaxing it out of you.”

He smiled. “Truth Teller personified.”

————————-

“We’re heading up now.” Rhys’ voice cut into Y/N’s mind.

“Are you sure about this, Rhys? Most of them do not know what all happened under the mountain. What if it’s too much for Feyre to take in?”

“She’s my mate, I have to hope that she will love and accept us all in time. It may be a lot to meet us and hear our stories but they’re a part of us, a part of loving us. I’m worried about Cassian scaring her off more than anything.”

“Valid concern. See you soon. Despite the circumstances, I’m so happy she’s here.”

“You know,” Rhys chuckled. “I feel the same way about you, Starshine.”

“You flatter me. Now enjoy your flight with the literal girl of your dreams.”

“She’s glaring daggers at me right now. Pray I make it there alive.”

“Where’d you go?” Az nudged.

Leaning into her mate’s side, embracing the warmth of his arms wrapped around her shoulders she replied, “Rhys and Feyre are on the way.”

“Are you ready for this?” He asked.

“I’m sure you can already feel my nerves down the bond but I appreciate you for asking.” She teased.

Azriel kept his pace slow as they wound through the hallways of the House of Wind toward the dining table. “If you’re not ready…”

She took a steadying breath. “No, he needs to get off on a solid foundation with her. And Cassian, Mor, and Amren have eyed us for a while, they realize that something is off. Plus, I mean, look at this thing.” Her delicate hands found her stomach. “They’re going to figure out that the timelines don’t match up soon enough.”

“Our girl IS growing.” Azriel spoke, not missing the opportunity to feel the life growing within his mate.

She teased, “You’ve referred to the babe as “her” a few times now. Coming around to the idea?”

“I know better than to go against your intuition.”

With that, Y/N gave a wicked grin. “Mother knows best.”

As they approached the dining room, Azriel pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be right by your side.”

She beamed. “And I’ll be by yours too, with whatever you may share tonight…and forever, of course.”

As everyone arrived and gathered at the dining table, Y/N couldn’t help but admire how lovely Feyre and Rhys were together. Though she hated the situation that brought her there, that Tamlin tried to hoard her away in his manor, she couldn’t help but feel joy knowing that she was finally beginning to see the true Rhysand.

The Inner Circle kept up with the typical antics and plenty of laughter filled the space, but the conversation eventually turned more serious as everyone took turns giving Feyre insight into themselves.

Feyre looked to Y/N with curiosity. “You were under the mountain, but Azriel was not?”

Her hands shook as she prepared to share. A warmth covered them as Azriel gave a gentle squeeze, sending waves of that reassurance in abundance. She took a breath.

She began by sharing the background of her family, their deaths, that she’d sold her body to survive afterward, how she’d only been under the mountain for a year before Feyre arrived.

“You didn’t know Azriel before they took you?” Feyre asked. Not harshly, just inquisitively.

Y/N held her head high. Her story was not one to be ashamed of.

“I did not. Rhys was one of the only souls to show me kindness under the mountain. I have nymph ancestry with primarily High Fae features. Amarantha took an interest in me and….”

An unreadable expression covered Rhys’ face. This was his trauma too, but he gave a reassuring nod.

“She began taking me to her chambers. I had no choice. It was warm her bed, or face physical torture until death.”

Feyre flinched along with Rhys. Y/N recognized that they were remembering the human girl Amarantha had tortured to death just before Feyre’s arrival.

“She also, against our hopes, realized that Rhysand and I had an understanding of eachother - serve her or die. Being the lust-driven wretch that she was, she began taking us both to her chambers. There was no room for weakness in there. She wanted us just weak enough to submit to her, but we had to remain strong in every other aspect. The first time she had Rhys and I, together,” she cleared her throat, giving pause before continuing, “Rhys saved me. I began to crack, and he held my mind. I will let Rhys speak on his own trauma and the mental load he carried, but he didn’t hesitate to help me get through it. It was not the last time he had to help me through it.”

The table was completely silent. Heart-wrenching expressions filled each face at the table. Palpable rage could be felt radiating off of Amren, though her face remained straight.

Her voice began cracking. Azriel pulled her close into him. “When you saved us,” She looked to Feyre. “I don’t mean to fawn or gawk over you, but Feyre, you did save us.” Feyre gave an empathetic look, nodding to Y/N to continue. “Rhys brought me back to Velaris because he couldn’t bear for me to return to the life I was living, because this Court of Dreams is made up of individuals who have lived through terrible traumas and, despite every reason to lead bitter lives- have chosen to dream of a better world. To fight for a better world. And he knew a certain Shadowsinger and I would get on quite well. In fact, he’s been a smug bastard ever since over just how well things went between us.”

“When I met him.” She stared lovingly to Azriel who swallowed a lump in his throat. “The bond snapped between us immediately. The same day I was brought here, I met my mate.”

Instinctively she placed her hands on the swell of her abdomen. “Rhys gave Azriel leave to spend time with me, for him to help me through the aftermath of what I’d been through…”

“But two weeks after arriving back, my scent began to shift.” Mor’s brows furrowed in contemplation.

“I became very sick shortly after that. Rhys called in a healer, Madja, who confirmed that I was two and a half months pregnant.”

Cassian audibly gasped and Mor murmured “Oh my gods.”

Azriel kept his composure for the sake of his mate, but this was killing him. His brother and his mate being forced by that fucking witch. “Azriel is not the biological father of this baby. The child was conceived under the forced coupling of Rhysand and I by Amarantha.”

Feyre’s face was a mix of sadness, and rage, and sympathy.

“There were options to terminate the pregnancy. However, due to my Nymph ancestry, such options can have negative, potentially deadly effects. Aside from that, though I never planned to have a child - I couldn’t bear the thought of losing another family member. Rhys, after losing his family, felt the same, which he only expressed after I shared my feelings with him. He was completely supportive of any decision I made.” Feyre looked to Rhys and then back to Y/N, no negative judgement written on those lovely features.

Y/N looked to Azriel with a loving grin “And Azriel- he took me to a priestess that night. We both wanted to accept the bond from the moment we met, the connection was unbelievably strong, I never believed in the power of the bond until I found him. And now because he’s ever the romantic, though I see him already blushing at the mention of it, he wanted to make a vow before the Mother - a vow to love me no matter what choice I made, a vow to love the life within me as his very own child, to love and cherish us both until his last breath.”

She pulled the sleeve off of her shoulder, revealing the intricate tattoo solidifying his vow.

“And Rhys,” She gave a soft smile. “He made a bargain to love and care for this child and to recognize Azriel as its father. We will not hide the parentage from our child. And Rhys, I know, already loves them dearly, but mine and Azriel’s decisions for our baby come first and will be respected as any biological parents would.”

She’d left out the part where Azriel had gone under the mountain to investigate later on and found that Amarantha had begun supplying a fertility tonic instead of birth control to Y/N after the Calanmai that Rhys had gone to the Spring Court and seen Feyre. Though she didn’t know who Rhys saw, she likely suspected he’d developed interest in someone else and become jealous, hoping an accidental pregnancy would either create a rift in any potential relationship or, even worse, that the baby could be used as leverage against him.

The table remained silent until Rhys chimed in. “So my brother is my child’s father. I’m sure stranger things have happened.”

Despite that sadness the Inner Circle felt, Rhysand’s comment elicited smiles. Azriel gave his brother a nod of thanks for breaking the tension while affectionately caressing his mate.

Mor eased the tension further by chiming in “Y/N! You are further along than we realized which means….. we get to go shopping for our newest family member sooner!!!”

Feyre decided soon after that she would like to work with the Court of Dreams.

————————-

Epilogue

Because his mate was always right, Azriel was indeed the father of a beautiful little girl, clever and stubborn like her mother, and the light of his life. Her mother the sun, and she the moon.

He and Rhys had just returned from taking “Baby Azzie” who was now a toddler to get pastries along the Sidra. Azriel returned with his half-asleep daughter in his arms, who perked up upon seeing her baby brother cooing in his bassinet. “Nyxie!!” She yelled, hurrying over to the winged babe. Rhys, however, arrived with numerous shopping bags in his own arms.

Feyre, who had been lounging with her head on Y/N’s shoulder gave the two a big smile. Y/N raised an eyebrow. “All of that better be for Nyx.”

Azriel and Rhys shared a laugh before Rhys spoke. “Well, half of it is, but only because someone batted her little lashes at us repeating ‘Brother, present. Brother, present’ until we took her into what is conveniently her favorite toy store.” Az cut in, “And because my brother is getting soft in his old age” before Rhys could remind Azriel that he was, in fact, the older of the two, Az continued, “Rhys had to buy something for her for every item she picked out for Nyx.”

Y/N groaned. “Cassian literally just bought her five new toys and six new outfits on their last outing.”

The raven-haired toddler with her mother’s nose and radiant skin, Rhys’ smile, and by some gift of the Mother - had Azriel’s golden-flecked hazel eyes, toddled up to Feyre, giving her a big hug. She then turned to her mother, leaning in to whisper something, that came out as quietly as a yell. “I got something for sissy too. Daddy has it in the pocket realm.”

Y/N’s face flushed as Rhys and Feyre gaped. “So much for keeping that a secret for a little longer.”

Feyre squealed leaning in and throwing her arms around Y/N. “I thought that maybe I was getting allergies, your scent hasn’t been as strong but you were glamouring it!”

Rhys pulled Azriel into a long hug, then walked over to Y/N with a wide smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Azriel placed a hand on his chest as he took in the sight of his blended family. It wasn’t what he’d ever expected but, to him, it was everything.

[serpentandlily]

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny II

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny II - Eris x Archeron!Reader

Summary: You find yourself ensnared by a sly, cunning fox. A very handsome, irritating one.

Warnings: none

a/n: sorry for the long wait with this one! Hope you guys like it!

Part I

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

You slipped into the private library in the House of Wind, humming slightly to yourself. The faint scent of crackling embers and something else indiscernible met your nose as the door slammed shut behind you but you brushed it off, figuring it must've come from the fireplace on the other side of the large room. 

You meandered to the section that was filled with romance books—the ones Nesta had made sure to stock up on ever since she became the owner of this place along with Cassian. You brushed your fingers against the spines of the books, pulling out some that had interesting titles and stacking them in your arms. 

A Heart Ablaze.

The Prince of Fire.

Your skirt flitted against the tops of your boots as you walked. You bit your lip, pulling out another book. This one titled, The Flames that Bind Us. You’d read it before but it was one of your favorites. 

“You should be a bit more aware of your surroundings, bunny. You have no idea what sort of monsters are lurking around.”

You gasped, jumping in fright and dropping your stack of books to place a hand on your chest. You whirled around with a wildly beating heart. 

You had recognized the voice immediately but you were still taken aback to see Eris lounging in one of the armchairs by the fireplace. He was sprawled out in the chair like it was his throne, a glass of whiskey in one hand and his other lightly stroking the soft velvet of the armrest. His red hair gleamed the same color as the burning flames behind him. 

Your gaze dipped to his chest, to his cream colored tunic that had a few buttons undone, exposing the silver layered jewelry resting against his chest. He wore dark brown breeches, perfectly tailored for his long legs and brown riding boots. How he managed to make such casual clothing look elegant and refined was beyond you. 

When you met his eyes again, those devastating amber eyes, Eris gave you a fox-like grin that looked anything but friendly. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you bent down to pick up the books you had dropped. You held them against your chest like a shield. 

“That is no way to address a Lord,” Eris purred. 

You huffed, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Apologies, my Lord,” you replied, sarcastically. “What a delight it is to see you again. What brings you to our humble court?”

Eris’s eyebrows rose in amusement. 

“If you must know, I’m here for a meeting with your High Lord and Lady,” Eris said. “Pray tell, what are you doing here, bunny?” 

His eyes darted to the books in your arms and you blushed, trying to discreetly cover the titles. Eris didn’t need to know your reading preferences. 

“If you must know,” you said, mocking him, “I live here.” 

You split time between here and the River House. Mostly because Nesta had once accused you of favoring Feyre. You hated nothing more than to be used as a pawn against your sisters. But being the youngest, your role in the family oftentimes required you playing mediator between your siblings. Sometimes, messenger too. 

“Poor little bunny,” Eris teased. “Locked up here in a cage.” 

“Stop calling me that!”

You glared at the handsome Lord, hating the way that made him seem even more amused. 

Eris said nothing, just twirled the glass in his hands as his eyes assessed you. You felt the hairs on your arms stand up, felt a chill run down your spine at his look. His smirk never left his face. You were quite sure he had been born wearing it. 

“Don’t you normally meet with Rhys and Feyre in Hewn City?” you asked, unable to take the silence. You should probably leave, but something kept your feet glued to the floor. 

Eris shrugged. “Sure, when our business involves Keir.” 

He spat out the older male’s name with disgust. 

“I’m surprised they didn’t order you to stay in your room knowing I was here,” he continued, his amusement back once more. “Can’t let the little bunny be ensnared by a fox again.”

His grin was more of a display of teeth. It did nothing to quell your nerves. 

“They never tell me anything,” you murmured, annoyed.

Your lips slammed shut when one of Eris’s eyebrows raised, like you had just unknowingly passed along information you shouldn’t have. 

The doors to the library slammed open and you jumped, sucking in a breath at the sudden noise. Azriel stormed in, his eyes narrowed at Eris. You suddenly felt tense, sensing the way the energy seemed to shift in the room. He stopped once he was in front of you, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed at the redhead. “You’re supposed to be waiting for Rhys and Feyre in the war room.” 

Eris didn’t seem frightened in the slightest, unlike most fae did when staring down the shadowsinger.

He plucked a piece of lint from his tunic, unbothered. “Apologies, shadowsinger. I got lost.” 

You doubted that and by Azriel’s growl, you realized he did too. He turned to look down at you, his lips pressed in a straight line with a stern look. 

“Go,” Azriel barked, nodding his head towards the door. You bristled at the command, as if you were a dog he could order around.

But it was Eris who stood to his full height and snarled, “Don’t speak to her like that.” 

Your eyes widened in surprise. You stepped out from around Azriel to see Eris staring down the shadowsinger. You swore the flames in the fireplace grew, the crackling of the wood the only thing breaking the tense silence. 

You shifted on your feet, clearing your throat as the temperature rose—Azriel’s shadows growing with it. You placed a hand on Azriel’s shoulder, trying to calm him.

“I’ll leave,” you said softly, glancing up at Eris but his focus was on your hand touching Azriel, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

“It was lovely speaking to you again, my Lord,” you said, sarcastically, bowing your head at Eris. At the sound of your voice, you watched as Eris’s mask slipped right back into place, all the tension leaving his body. 

His gaze met yours and he shot you his infamous fox-like grin. “Indeed, Lady.” 

Azriel growled, lowly, and that was your sign to leave. You scurried out of the room, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach—the ones that had been there since the moment you laid eyes on the handsome Lord of Fire.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

It had taken a lot of persuasion on your part, but you had finally talked Rhys and Feyre into letting you have more of a role in their court. They had decided to let you shadow Lucien as an emissary, but so far the only place you had gone with him to was the human realm—not that you minded.

You were currently in the deserted manor that Vassa, Jurian and Lucien were now living in since the end of the war. You had just had a meeting and dinner with them, but out of politeness, had offered to clean up which left you in the kitchen alone, scrubbing dishes. You supposed you could’ve used magic, but decided on doing it the only way you knew how: the human way.

“I thought I smelt a bunny in here.”

You let out a squeak of surprise, dropping the plate you were drying back into the filled basin. Water and soap splashed all around you, speckling the smock you wore over your dress and the counter. 

You yanked a small hand towel free and began to blot at the water spots as you whirled around to face Eris. The grin he wore only infuriated you even more. 

“Must you always sneak up on me?” you grumbled, tossing the towel back on the counter. 

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings, bunny,” Eris purred. 

“Oh, for Gods’ sake, stop calling me that!” 

“Perhaps when it stops to suit you so well.”

“It doesn’t suit me now,” you argued back. “I am not some little bunny.” 

“Are you sure about that?” Eris took a step towards you but something about his demeanor made you mirror his step backwards, your backside hitting the counter behind you. His grin sharpened at your movement.

“Are you scared of me, bunny?”

Your cheeks flushed, your heart skipped a beat in your chest. 

“N-no,” you stuttered. 

He took a step closer, that fox-like grin still on his face.

“Really?” Eris mocked. “You seem quite scared.” 

“You tend to have that effect on everybody.” 

“Do I?” 

You knew he was teasing you, but it didn’t stop your heart from pounding nor did it do anything to quell the butterflies in your stomach. He was close enough now that you had to tilt your head back to look up at him. You had almost forgotten how tall he truly was.

You nodded, losing your voice as he took another step closer.

“And why is that?” 

You cleared your throat, your hands finding the edge of the counter behind you so you could brace yourself. “It probably has to do with your reputation.” 

“I have a reputation?”

The question sounded more like a joke on his tongue. Eris raised his eyebrows at you in suggestion and you swallowed audibly. 

He took another step closer, now easily within reach of you. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, a small tremble shook your legs. But it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. It was more like anticipation. But for what? That was the part you couldn’t figure out. 

“You know you do,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “You’ve gone to great lengths to make sure of it.” 

Something inside of you could see the mask Eris liked to wear. Another step closer and you could feel the heat coming from his body. It seemed to reach out to you, like standing near a warm fire. Your body softened in response. 

“You’re right. I have,” Eris cooed. “But I don’t care about everyone. I want to know if you are scared of me.”

He was so close now, only inches away from you, his handsome face looming over you. The sun setting caused a golden hue to stream through the window, making his crimson hair shine like molten metal.

“No,” you whispered, your head now fully tilted up to look at him. “But I think…I think I should be.” 

Based on everything you had been told about him, at least. 

Eris’s eyes darkened as he gazed down at you. The silence was thick, the tension in your body heightened. You were captive to his stare—to those whiskey amber eyes. Something ached terribly in your chest. 

Eris reached out a hand, hooking some of your hair behind a pointed ear. He leaned down, resting his hands on the counter behind you, caging you in. It almost seemed as if he was going to kiss you but instead his mouth landed by your ear.

“You’re right, bunny,” he purred. “You should be.” 

A chill ran down your spine as Eris stood back up. He seemed to relish in the way your body had responded to him, his grin turning smug and haughty. You should step away from him. Logically, you knew you should move. But something kept your feet ensnared—just like that day in the library. 

His stare held an intensity that made your mouth dry. Something loomed beneath–the weight of all the secrets he seemed to keep. Your eyes were a stark contrast to his. Wide and full of every emotion that ran through you, no deception to be found. 

Footsteps coming towards the door to the kitchen broke whatever spell you had been under. In a blink of an eye, Eris was almost on the other side of the room, his back resting against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

The doors pushed open and Lucien walked in. He paused on the threshold, his eyes narrowing on his brother before they drifted to you. He looked you up and down, as if he was inspecting you for damage. Seeming content that you were in one piece, he glanced warily at Eris. 

He rolled his eyes at his brother’s grin. 

“Leave Y/n alone,” Lucien grumbled. “She doesn’t like your little games. Come, you requested a meeting with me. Let’s get this over with so I take her home.” 

He nodded his head towards the door before leaving Eris to follow him. Eris gave you one last parting look on his way out. A look that would linger in your mind for the following weeks. 

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

The Dawn Court was radiant and you couldn’t stop spinning in circles, taking in the opalescent golden stone palace, grand staircases and ornate archways. Morning glories wrapped around pillars, drooping wisterias hung from every railing. It was beautiful, breathtaking. You could hardly believe your eyes.

You smoothed down the skirt of your midnight blue ball gown, feeling slightly out of place amongst all the pretty pastel colors of the Dawn Court. It was the first time you’d been out of the Night Court, besides that slight, accidental trip to Autumn. 

Later today, you would be meeting with the rest of the High Lords, as well as Vassa and her court to discuss a peace treaty. Rhys had insisted on bringing you despite Feyre’s hesitation. But he had made the point that the humans might take more kindly to someone familiar, someone who used to be like them. 

Nesta had been the first choice, but she and Cassian were still away on their mating vacation. Elain had been set to come today instead of you until Rhys had found out that Lord Nolan and Graysen would be attending the meeting and thus, Elain was spared the uncomfortable reunion and you were put in her place.

Not that you were complaining. You were excited to finally be involved.

The courtier from Dawn led your group to the suite your court would be staying in. It was carved from sunstone, with a lavish sitting area and private dining room—all decorated beautifully with jewel-toned fabrics and cushions stacked along the thick carpet. Bird cages hung from the ceiling in the corner of the room, right next to a large window that overlooked the countryside.

Once the courtier left, Rhys was quick to throw up several wards around the room. “Don’t get too comfortable yet. Eris is slipping by to meet before the official gathering.”

Mor groaned and plopped down on a settee, throwing her arm over her eyes. 

“Perhaps you’d like to go rest for a spell in your room, Y/n?” Your sister suggested.

You saw her words for what they were though. They didn’t want you around when Eris came. You might’ve tried to argue against it but decided to not push your luck today. They were already letting you come to the meeting.

You gave her a small nod and disappeared into one of the rooms. Still feeling a bit nauseated from all the winnowing, you laid down on the soft bed and drifted off into a mid afternoon nap. 

It only felt like a second had gone by when you eventually woke. You cursed as you looked out the small bay window, seeing the sun far lower than it had been when you had fallen asleep. You rose quickly and smoothed out your hair and dress. 

You sat down at a small vanity and touched up your makeup before finally leaving your room, not even checking if they were still in a meeting with Eris or not, not wanting to be late.

Your door creaked open and several heads twisted your way—including a very handsome one with flaming red hair. You blinked in surprise, your cheeks turning a bit pink at the sudden attention.

“My apologies,” you murmured, embarrassed. “I didn’t know we still had company.”

Your eyes darted to your sister, hoping she wasn’t upset with you, but Feyre’s face didn’t falter. Her eyes only softened as she looked at you. “It’s okay, we’re almost done here anyways.” 

Eris shot up suddenly, knocking his chair back.

“What is she doing here?” he hissed. 

Your eyes widened in shock, taken aback by both his words and his tone. Rhys’s eyebrows raised and Feyre frowned at the redhead.

“What does it matter to you?” Rhys asked, his face carefully blank. 

Eris scoffed and straightened out the sleeves of his coat. The frazzled look in his eye flickered away and his perfectly crafted mask was back in place. “It matters little to me. But considering you’ve gone to such lengths keeping her hidden, I’m surprised you’d allow her here knowing who will be at this meeting. My father is going to be displeased to know that you have not three but four Made females residing in your court now. It might make him…less agreeable.”   

“You think having her here is going to cause problems with your father?”

“I know having her here is going to cause problems with my father.” 

You bristled at the way you were being spoken about as if you weren't standing in the very same room as them. 

“Why should we care about your father’s feelings on the matter?” Azriel spat out, crossing his arms. 

“You want him to sign your little peace treaty, do you not?” Eris sneered at Azriel, his tone full of condescension. 

“We also need the humans to agree upon the treaty,” Feyre cut in. “And Y/n has been working with your brother as an emissary to gain their trust. Since Lucien cannot be here, it is vital that she is present at this meeting.” 

“You're delusional if you think it’s going to be harder to get the humans to sign the treaty than my father,” Eris said in that haughty tone of his. “He still thinks about that kernel of power you took from him. Power is all that matters to him and having all four made sisters in your court is going to be an issue in his eyes.” 

“We have other ways to entice your father,” Rhys said with a shrug.

You were still taken aback, unable to even form words to leave your mouth. You hadn’t been aware that your presence would cause such drama. You were nothing. No one. Just another Archeron sister. You didn’t even have powers outside the normal High Fae ones, like summoning things and winnowing. 

You didn’t miss the blink of fear that passed through Eris’s eyes, but no one else seemed to catch it. He still stood, his palms now pressed against the table separating him from the rest of your court. 

“Why is it that no one knows about her, anyways?” he asked. “Why is it that all reports only mention the other two sisters being put in the Cauldron and not Y/n?”

A shiver ran down your spine at the sound of your name on his lips. But whatever feeling that was passed as a memory of that horrid day came at the reminder of the Cauldron. 

“Put the little one in first,” the King of Hybern ordered, smugly, as he kept eye contact with Feyre. She was pleading with him to let you go. Pleading and begging with her own life. You knew why he chose you to go in first. He knew that it would cause Feyre more grief, more stress.

The feeling of hands all over you as you fought against your binds. Hands that were dragging you closer and closer to the huge Cauldron that sat in the middle of the room. You were screaming through your gag. Tears were streaming down your face. 

You could even hear your sister’s ex lover demanding the King put a stop to this. 

“She is just a girl, a child,” someone in the room hissed. “Stop this!”

And you supposed you were—especially to the fae. You were almost seventeen, your birthday falling on the Autumn equinox, when both day and night were equal lengths. It was all you kept thinking about as you were dragged to the Cauldron.

Four months.

Four months until Autumn. 

And then you had been pushed underneath the dark water and your humanity had been stripped away from you.

Your heart was pounding at the thought of that day, of everything that had happened afterwards. Eris’s eyes flickered to you for a moment and you got the sense that he almost knew where your mind had drifted. Feyre gave you a look of concern. 

It struck you now that it had been three years since that day. 

Three years.

Three years since your life had been forever changed.

“Your contacts must not be very good at their jobs,” Rhys said in answer to Eris’s question. But you were also pondering it. Why is it that most of Prythian did not know of your existence? Why is it that the reports of that day only ever mention Nesta and Elain?

Eris didn’t look like he believed Rhysand either. 

“Fine, whatever, I don’t have time to argue with you. My father is expecting me back any moment now,” Eris finally said, standing to his full height. His gaze drifted to you for a second before he glared down at Rhys. 

“Send her away,” he spoke through his teeth and then he winnowed away, leaving only crackling embers in his wake. 

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

a/n: I got a lil inspired by that tiktok audio that’s like “I’m spooky? Do you think I’m spooky?” or whatever for the kitchen scene if you couldn’t tell haha. I hope this second part did not disappoint! So sorry for how long you guys had to wait to read it!

Tag list: @dwkfan @pinksmellslikelove @vellichor01 @whatdoyxumean @minnieoo @hnyclover @daughterofthemoons-stuff @ferrarisbitch @thaynarajejheje @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @the-sweet-psycho

*If you asked to be on the taglist and you don't see your username, tumblr wouldn't let me tag you for some reason :(

[yourejinx]

Late Nights

Azriel x F.Reader

Warnings: NSFW, smut, +18, minors dni. Oral, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v. A bit of fluff? I think that's it.

Author's note: I wanted to try something different, this is my first time writing content like this so please be gentle but also PLEASE FEEDBACK.

Word count: 4k

It was the fourth night in a row that you were deprived from sleep, cursed with listening Cass and Nesta fuck like rabbits in the room next to yours. In all honesty, you loved your friends and were absolutely thrilled they were enjoying and exploring the extent of their relationship, they deserved it after everything they went through. You just wished they had a little consideration for your poor ears and sleeping schedule. 

You had been working your ass off the past few weeks, Rhys had you and Az going around the courts every other day, plus you've been dealing with Eris, since you seemed to be the only member in the Inner Circle that the Autumn heir tolerated just fine. So you had your plate full, and wished for a little peace and quiet at your own home. But your friends had other plans.

Nesta let out a particularly loud moan that you clearly heard through the too thin wall. It made you grimace and you decided you had enough. Huffing, you tossed the sheets off your body, grabbed the shirt you had stolen from the shadowsinger years ago and opened the door, putting on the clothing while you made your way down the corridor. If you were awake, then Azriel had to be too, he didn't miss a thing happening in this house. 

You didn't bother knocking on his door, you were way past that line with him. Azriel was your best friend, your confident, the person who you most trusted in the entire world, and vice versa. You were too comfortable with each other to bother with politeness. You flung open the door to his bedroom, making your way inside and slamming the door behind you dramatically. The room was dark except for the dim fae light hanging on his bedside table, Azriel had put down the book he was reading to stare at you amusedly. 

"Good evening to you too." He uttered playfully.

You didn't reply, just scowled, walked up to the other side and plopped down face first on the bed beside him. He chuckled. 

"Finding it hard to sleep?" He asked, setting the book aside. 

"They are insufferable." You mumbled around the sheets. They smelled like him, an instant comfort for your tired mind. "Agh! You can hear them from here too! How are you not bothered?!?" You lift your head from his pillows to look at him exasperatedly. 

Azriel smiled somewhat apprehensive at you. "I'm kind of used to it by now." He shrugged. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, smirking. "Kinky."

He rolled his eyes feigning annoyance. "You have no idea, sweetheart." His voice was a deep purr as he smirked back at you. 

You lifted one eyebrow in amusement. There was this recurrent thing between you two, where you usually teased and flirted with each other but never dared to actually do something about it. It was just for fun right? You were friends who just liked messing around as a joke. Always dancing the line between friends and something more, it was a dangerous game for sure, but you had to admit you loved the thrill of it. 

“Is that so? Oh please, do enlighten me then.” You shot back, lying more comfortably on his bed. Arms behind your head, eyes fixed on him. 

Hazel gaze traveled all the way down to the now exposed skin of your upper thighs, your movement had caused the shirt – his shirt– to ridden up a little, revealing more of your legs and the underline of a pair of lacy black panties. His pulse spiked slightly at the sight. You didn’t seem to notice, he averted his eyes before you could catch him shamelessly staring at you.  

There was a glint in your eyes when he caught your stare again, a slight flush to your cheeks, but he didn’t back off. 

“Curious now, are we?” He tilted his head, resting his cheek on his fist to properly look at you. 

“Ah, don’t flatter yourself, pretty boy. You brought it up, are you backing out?” 

Azriel opened his mouth to respond, a playful spark dancing in his golden eyes, when—

“Fuck, Ness!” Cassian’s growl reached both your ears as clear as day. There was a beat of silence after that where you just stared at each other stunned, then you broke in a fit of laughter. 

“Seriously Az, I don’t know how you endure it, if I have to listen to them one more night I’m gonna lose my shit. I haven’t slept in days,” you sighed, rubbing your eyes. “and neither have you, it seems.” you pointed out, poking open one eye to stare at him. Azriel had laid back facing you, wings tucked behind his back, shoulders involuntarily curving inwards, a sign of tiredness. You noted the dark circles under his eyes. 

“I look that shitty, huh?” he smiled tiredly.  

“Never.” You stated matter-of-factly. “You’re always pretty.” 

It was his turn to blush then, heat rapidly crawling to his face and neck. He could handle your flirting, your teasing, but he didn’t know how to react when you blatantly called him pretty. It just sounded so…sincere, coming from you. It made his heart flutter in his chest. It was no secret that he found you attractive, he thought he made that clear, but there was more to that, wasn’t there? He didn’t just think you were hot, he thought you were beautiful, smart, and kind, and it freaked the hell out of him to acknowledge all those things because that would mean that he wanted more. More than being your friend, but it terrified him to ruin your friendship. If you wanted him in the same way, you would’ve said something by now, right? You’ve known each other for years. 

“What are you thinking about?” you whispered, breath fanning across his face. He hadn’t noticed how close you were. He could feel the heat radiating from your body. 

“I’m thinking that we should sleep.” He answered, but made no move whatsoever. You smiled at him and nodded, making to reach the faelight to turn it off. You angled your body half above him and stretched to the bedside table, hair barely grazing the hot skin of his torso. Gods, you were practically straddling him, his mind taking him to all sorts of indecent scenarios. Your breasts were just a breadths away from his mouth, he could make out the perked nipples under the shirt. He loved seeing you in his clothes, but right now he wanted nothing more than to rip the fabric out of you. Azriel swallowed dryly. 

What was his fucking problem? It wasn’t like you hadn’t shared a bed before, he blamed his friend’s heated session down the hall. He had to admit it had gotten him a bit railed up, especially with you on his bed, smelling like him. It was hard to ignore the growing want in his veins. 

“Goodnight, Az.” You said, pulling back a little to look at him through half lidded eyes, even in the dark. Was it possible you were feeling the same? or was it just tiredness in your features? 

“Goodnight, angel.” He whispered back. If you leaned in any closer, he swears he’d kiss you, consequences be damned. But you slid right back onto your side, back facing him. 

Azriel lets out a quiet, frustrating sigh, reaching an arm out to wrap around your waist pulling you close. More moaning can be heard outside his bedroom, all the way to Cassian’s room. He feels slightly jealous. 

Suddenly you snorted, “We’ll sleep better if we get past the nghs, ohh, right there Cass!” you moaned, imitating Nesta. Azriel inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the way your little whimpering had shot straight to his dick. And the bite of jealousy he felt at hearing Cassian’s name falling so sinfully from your lips.

He scented the slight change in your scent though, a pinch of sweet arousal that got him mouth-watering. It had gotten to your head too, the display of passion from your friends a few bedrooms away. Azriel debated whether it was wise to do something right now, to taste the waters maybe. But you rolled onto your back again, facing the ceiling and letting out a frustrated groan. 

“Someone has to teach them though, make them uncomfortably listen for once. Maybe I’ll go to Rita’s tomorrow, choose a random male and bring him home. Beat them at their own game.” 

“No.” Azriel growled. You turned your head to the side, looking at him and were met with the dark, lustful haze in his eyes. You felt your core pulse in response. Fuck, why was he so hot?

“What do you mean"no "?" You asked, feeling your tongue paper dry  in your mouth.

“Why wait until tomorrow, if you can beat them tonight?”

The offer hung there, unspoken, for a few heartbeats. You felt your face grow hot, felt liquid fire pooling at your belly at the mere suggestion. He hadn’t even touched you and yet he got you all hot and bothered with a few words. You licked your lips, staring at him, shirtless, hair tousled over the pillow, shadows dancing dangerously over his shoulder. As if expecting your answer. He was a sight for sore eyes. It had to be illegal to be this beautiful. 

“I’m game if you are, sweetheart.” There it was, the deep purr again that had you clenching your legs together. He noticed the shift of course, smirking smugly. 

“Haha, very funny.” you said, huffing. 

“I’m not playing.” He pulled you closer, pressing you against his front. You gasped, feeling the not so subtle bulge in his sweatpants, rubbing against the side of your thigh.

“Is this why you kept me at an arm's length tonight?” you chuckled, but he could hear the breathlessness in your voice. “So I wouldn't find out they got you all worked up?” 

“No, this isn’t their doing, angel. It's all yours.” He dared a hand down your waist, past your hips, to ghost over the skin under the hem of your shirt. You shuddered. “Tell me to stop and I will. It's okay.” 

He lifted the fabric ever so slightly, inching closer to the waistband of your underwear. 

You turned fully to him, chests pressed together, breasts dragging against the firm muscle with every breath. 

“Fuck it, let’s show them.” You breathed into his mouth before crashing your lips together in a searing kiss. 

Azriel groaned low against your mouth, grip tighter bringing your hips flushed together, and kissed you back with fervor. Your hands found purchase in the dark locks at the back of his neck, tugging gently and urging him impossibly closer. He pushed you onto your back, knees parting on their own accord to accommodate him between your legs. It was all so hot and messy. Like you both have been waiting for this for a very long time, it made you throb with need. The thought of him wanting you as much as you wanted him. 

You rolled your hips onto him, desperate for any sort of friction, moaning loudly when the clothed tip of his cock catched on your clit deliciously. Azriel took his chance to slip his tongue inside your mouth, exploring every inch and taste of you, kissing you deeply, desperately. He wanted more, he wanted everything. A wave of arousal licked down his spine, your lips were sweet and addictive, he wondered — needed to know— if other parts of you tasted as sweet. 

He kissed your jaw, your neck, biting and licking his way down to your collarbones. His right hand came to fondle with the generous swell of your breast over the shirt, pinching at the perked nub. The smell of your arousal hit him at a full force, Azriel felt like a youngling in heat rutting his cock at your core. Fuck, he couldn't help himself, he was so enamoured with the sounds he was getting out of you. 

“Take this off,” he ordered, tugging at your shirt. “If I do it I may rip the damn thing off of you, and I love seeing you in my shirt.” 

You obeyed without a second thought, too lost in the feeling of him already. He invaded all your senses, his touch sending your skin on fire, his scent sparkling pleasure bubbling in your insides. The rich tone of his voice had you feeling all tingly and sensitive. Gods, you wanted him everywhere. 

With the offensive clothing now discarded, Azriel wasted no time dipping his head down and latching his mouth to one of your nipples, swirling his tongue and grazing his teeth around the nub. His hand came to play with your other breast, giving it the same attention, switching between your tits. You arched your back into him, whining in pleasure. 

He let go of your chest, looking down to admire you, all spread out for him. Nipples hard and shiny with his spit, breathing unevenly, underwear drenched with arousal, all because of him. He felt his cock throb within the confines of his sweats. Fuck, you looked so pretty like this, he had to taste you. Azriel looked up at your face, your glazed over eyes and swollen lips, and kissed you hard. Scarred fingers found the flimsy material of your panties, pushing them aside and dragging two digits along your soaked folds; you both moaned at the feeling. He rubbed tight circles around your clit, then ran a finger through your slit, smearing your juices everywhere. Your breathing quickened and he bit down your lip before kissing his way to your heat. Azriel looked at you from between your legs, pupils blown with lust, smirking wickedly. He hooked his fingers under the waistband and tugged the material painfully slow down your legs, snarling softly at the sight of your dripping pussy. 

“Beautiful,” he moaned. “So damn beautiful.” His tongue darted out to lick a long stripe out your center. It almost knocked the air out of your lungs, your hips bucking off the bed to get closer to his face. He chuckled darkly. “Eager, angel?”

“Az please, stop teasing,”  you whined prettily, eyes locking with his. 

At this point you didn’t care if your friends could hear or not, you wanted Azriel’s mouth on you, his fingers, his cock. You wanted to feel all of him. 

“Whatever my sweet angel wants,” he blew some air into your cunt, making you shiver in anticipation. Azriel dive in, devouring you like a male starved, like he might die if he didn’t get to taste you. He all but full on made out with your pussy, dragging his tongue along your folds, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking sharply. He groaned at your taste, the reverberations causing your eyes to roll back into your head, hips jerking up. He wrapped one arm around your hips to keep you pin to the bed and switched between harsh sucks and flicking the wet muscle around the nub. The pleasure was all too much and not enough at the same time, you moaned his name aloud and tugged at the strands of his hair again. 

Azriel’s free hand reached down to spread your folds, soaking his digits in your arousal before proding one finger at your entrance, and pushing inside. Your walls immediately clenched around him, making you both growl in pleasure. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, so tight. Already clenching on me,” he moaned, teeth grazing your clit. You could feel the pressure building in your lower belly, walls clamping down on his finger when he added a second one. You cried out, desperately trying to ride his face. Azriel pumped his fingers inside of you faster, curling his digits to reach that sweet spot that had you seeing stars behind your lids. Words were beginning to fail you, mumbling incoherently about how close you were. “You wanna cum? C’mon angel, give it to me, cum all over my face and fingers.”

His words had an immediate effect on you, pushing you over the edge. Pleasure overpowered you and you let go, cumming hard on his fingers, moaning his name for all the house to hear. Azriel kept thrusting his fingers into your hole, guiding you through your orgasm and licking every last drop you had to offer. He watched you closely, eyes shut in pleasure, soft pants leaving your plush lips as you came down from your high. Only then he pulled his hand away, mesmerized by you. He crawled up your body, coming face to face with you. 

“Hey,” he whispered, smiling. 

“Hey,” you replied, face flushed and smiling satisfied. You reached your hand to push away the dark strands that had fallen into his face, cupping his cheek in your palm. He looked absolutely gorgeous, hair disheveled from your tugging, lips bruised and shiny with your juices, gaze clouded with lust and something else. More intense even, more deep. 

You dragged your thumb over his bottom lip and he sucked it into his mouth, you almost whined again. Breaths coming in short. You brought his face to yours, kissing him with such devotion you couldn't hold back any longer. Azriel shuddered, leisurely kissing you back, you could taste yourself on his tongue. Moaning softly, you ranked your nails down his body, from his pecs, to the hard planes of his abdomen, all the way to his cock, palming him through the fabric. He hissed when you slid your fingers past the waistband of his pants, gripping him in your hand. His hips buckled. He was big, and warm and sticky with pre-cum. You made to put his sweatpants down but he stopped you before you could take it any further. 

“Fuck baby, are you sure?” he asked, looking intently at you. A swirl of emotions passed through his eyes, it made your heart flutter in your chest. “We don't have to, unless that's what you want. I think we made our point clear.” He laughed breathlessly. 

“It is what I want Az. I want you, I need you. Please.” You watched him with pleading eyes, full of trust and… He didn't dare acknowledge that emotion yet, not unless you spoke it out loud. Although his heart still gave a flip. Pulse picking up. 

He helped you pull his pants down, and kicked them out of his legs. His cock sprung free, slapping against his abs, tip swollen and dripping. You flashed him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen you wear, dragging your eyes shamelessly through his body. It gave him a little bit of an ego boost. 

“You're so pretty Az. So so pretty,” you murmured, eyes half lidded already devouring him. 

There it was again, you calling him pretty. He didn't know what to do with himself so he leaned in to capture your mouth in a scorching kiss. You wrapped your legs around his hips, pulling him flush against you, both hissing when the tip of his proud cock bumped against your clit. 

You broke the kiss to slide your mouth along his jaw, down his neck, peppering his sun-kissed skin in love bites. Marking him as yours. Azriel groaned and thrust his hips forward, sliding through your folds, coating his length in your arousal. He repeated the action a couple of times before aligning himself with your entrance. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, your wetness and the remnants of your orgasm making it easy to slide all the way in. Your walls hugged him tightly as he bottomed out, stilling, to give you time to adjust to his size. Azriel let out a moan so hot and sinful it made a new wave of arousal wash over you. 

He felt on cloud nine, his head falling to the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and letting it intoxicate him. He could’ve cum right then and there, buried to the hilt in your heat. But he wanted it to last, taking his time to savor the feeling of you wrapped around him so perfectly. He had no doubt in his lust filled mind that you were made for him. You were his and only his. 

You rolled your hips at last, running your fingers down his sides urging him to move. That was all it took for him to pull out to the tip and slam his hips hard into yours, Azriel set a slow, sensual pace, intended in making you feel every last inch of him. You welcomed the stretch with a wanton moan, feeling the veins with every delicious drag of his cock against your walls. 

“Gods, Azriel, more!” you whined. “I can take it.” 

“I swear you're gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.” He panted. Pulling out he gripped your hips tightly and turned you onto your stomach, ass up in the air. He thrust in harsher, making you cry out in pleasure. All signs of restraint gone. 

Azriel picked up speed, angling his hips just fine so that he could reach even deeper inside you. He quickly found the spot that had you gripping him tight, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Abusing your hole, hitting your g spot every single time, mercilessly. He had you in a state of pure bliss, bringing one arm to wrap around your middle, reaching between your legs to play with your clit. You were so close, already too sensitive from your previous orgasm. Squirming around in his embrace, pushing your ass back to meet his thrusts. 

“Fuuck! Don't stop,” you managed out, fisting at the sheets for support. 

“I won't,” he grunted, the swollen head of his cock kissing your cervix. “You're mine, do you understand me? Mine. No other male gets to touch you.” 

“Yes, yes I'm yours,” you panted,  desperately wanting to please him. 

“Good girl.” 

He was relentless, hips slapping with a force that had the headboard smashing against the wall. He knew you were about to cum, could feel his own orgasm sneaking up on him. Azriel went impossibly faster, pulling sobs out of you. You clamped down on him after one particular sharp thrust and your high barreled through you without previous warning. You screamed, white hot pleasure blinding you. Cum gushed out of you, making a mess of your thighs and his. He held your trembling body up, pressed to him as he fucked you through your orgasm, thrusts becoming sloppier by the second. His wings flared proud behind him and he felt the tight knot in his gut snap. Azriel came with a growl of your name, hips coming to a stop. Your body falling limp atop the bed. 

Slowly pulling out of you, he watched astonished at the mess you made, both of your juices dripping down your legs. When his breathing became even again, Azriel leaned in to press a kiss to your spine, making you shudder. 

“You okay, angel?” He asked, scarred fingers gently pushing your hair out of your face. 

You smiled tiredly at him, content. “I feel amazing.” 

He chuckled and laid back next to you, pulling you to lay on his chest. You pressed a kiss over his heart, arms resting on his stomach, still catching your breath. No one spoke for a while, enjoying the aftermath of your actions. There was no room for worry, not with Azriel. Not ever. 

He traced iddle circles on your skin, loving how well you fit next to him. 

“Az?” You called softly to him, he hummed in acknowledgement. “Do you hear that?” 

He stilled, straining his hearing. Muffled moans could be heard down the hall and the distinct sound of a headboard smashing hard against the wall. You laughed in unison. 

“I think we may have spurred them on,” he said amusedly, voice hoarse. 

“I've never been more glad to have left my room than right now” you chuckled. 

“You and I both, angel.” He added, squeezing your ass. 

You turned to him, placing a kiss to the outline of his jaw. Silently admiring the hickies you left on his neck. 

“How does a second round sound?” You purred. 

He smirked, cock already hardening. “Absolutely delightful.” 

[imxnotxhere]

Azriel Fic Recs

** Updated 25/02/2024 **

A collection of amazing fics I think everyone should read. Also an appreciation for the writers that carry this fandom on their back.

One Shots:

@tadpolesonalgae

unchained - smut - really hot, i think there's going to be more parts but im not sure

stockholm syndrome - smut, dark!az - please check the warnings before reading!

birthday girl - fluff - very very cute

dreamy - smut - i think everyone needs soft dom!az

@azsazz

the caress of murder and moonlight - smut, rhys x azriel x reader - "Rhysand and Azriel are having a secret meeting out in the woods. Upon hearing your scream, the race to save you, and you thank them in the only way you know how."

after hours - smut, modern au, office au - "You and Az work in the same office and you've been crushing on each other for quite some time. Late at the office one night, he decides to do something about it."

body and soul - vamp!az au, smut - recommend checking the other parts

dirty work - smut

leisurely - fluff

@leafsandstarlight

forced revelations - fluff - "While on a mission with Azriel, reader is tricked by a creature into revealing that her feelings for the Shadowsinger go beyond mere friendship."

bad idea, right? - smut - "You stopped sleeping together months ago, but when Azriel invites you back to his place after seeing you at Rita's you just know you're going to fall right back into his bed."

@acourtofmenandthirst

love you in the dark - angst (really heavy on the angst)

@azrielhours

soft spot - smut, fluff - "Azriel is very particular about his lovers; typically hard-hearted women chosen so they don’t develop an emotional attachment. Reader is one of these lovers, except she’s the sweetest and cheeriest on his roster. This causes Az to begin breaking his rules about intimacy, especially when she unwittingly ends up at his home for work one evening and spends the night."

take care - fluff - "There Was only One Bed trope, reader and Az stay at an Inn overnight, they take care of each other."

i want you to rest - fluff - 10/10 comfort fic - "Reader has a nightmare while on a mission w the boys. Azriel comes to the rescue, brings her to his room to comfort her. She doesn’t want to sleep so he stays with her through the night."

lessons on relief - smut - "Azriel is the last of the boys to lose his virginity"

@azrielbrainrot

i'll be here - fluff - "You feel a little out of place at a celebration in the House of Wind and a certain Shadowsinger comes to the rescue."

such a perfect place to start - fluff - "Something happens that has you questioning the nature of your relationship with the shadowsinger."

maybe we could be the start of something - fluff, modern au, band au - Your friends invite you to a bar and you could never imagine who you'd meet there."

darling i'd wait for you even if you didn't ask me to - fluff, modern au, band au - "You have a really bad day and Azriel is there to help you through it."

@serpentandlily

no going back- angst - "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."

@fever-fluff

take my hand - angst, fluff - "Azriel really wants to hold your hand, but he's afraid that he'll hold it too tight."

@writingcroissant

just a little crush - fluff - "Everyone secretly longs for Azriel, but Azriel only longs for her."

hands - smut - "Azriel has really nice hands. And he knows how to use them, too."

@azrielscrown

innocence - smut, fluff

@gothicbabydollz

azriel x archeron!sister!reader - smut

@honeybeefae

desperate times - smut - "While tending to Elain's garden you come across a mysterious flower with an even more mysterious pollen. As the effects of it start to hit you, you have to fend for yourself to get the edge off...or do you?"

@writingsbychlo

be yours - fluff - "you ask azriel how it's possible he's still single."

@lalacliffthorne

idiot - smut - "a fight gets out of hand, and suddenly, everything´s turned upside down"

@safetypinxtales

lonely with you - angst, fluff - "it seems like everyone's found their mates, except you. On a sleepless night you turn to your friend, in hopes that being alone, together, will feel slightly less lonely."

@prythianpages

i've been waiting for you - "Azriel finally meets the one he's been longing for. His mate."

Series:

@tadpolesonalgae

i can't bring myself to hate you - angst, smut (only one chapter for now at least) - this fic is my roman empire, literally obsessed with this. prepare for the pain and to kind of want to hit azriel over the head

the dregs of tragedy - mer!az

eat you up - smut, dark!az - please check the warnings at the beginning! if you're ever in a mood for dark!az this is the perfect remedy (stockholm syndrome is a sort of epilogue? for this)

teeth and talons - smut, demon!az - "you’re accused of witchcraft and sacrificed to the shadow creatures, only to be saved by their ruler who’s suspiciously in sudden need of a bride…"

@azsazz

cupid's chokehold - fluff, angst - this is such an interesting concept - "You are a Cupid, a nearly extinct creature of Prythian. When you get caught trying to shoot Elain with your arrow, well, it's a little hard to explain what you're trying to do."

@leafsandstarlight

inadvertently yours - fluff, angst, smut, fake relationship and arranged marriage are classics for a reason - "As Eris Vanserra’s most trusted spy, you‘ve found yourself spending a surprising amount of time with the Night Court’s Spymaster. When your rendezvous with Azriel is discovered by High Lord Beron, the only way to protect the alliance is to pretend that you and Azriel are madly in love."

annual visit - fluff, smut - human reader, modern(?) au - "Each year on Halloween, Azriel visits the mortal lands with his friends to partake in the human debauchery that occurs. When he meets reader at a local bar, he can't take his eyes off her no matter how hard he tries."

@pellucid-constellations

of oblivious minds - fluff - "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."

@utterlyazriel

how long have i searched for you? an eternity my love - fluff - "azriel finds his mate in the most inopportune time and he convinces himself you haven't sought him out for good reason. he couldn't be more wrong."

@azrielbrainrot

i laugh like me again, she laughs like you - angst - "Azriel would give anything to hold you one more time."

the devel i revel in - demon!azriel - "Your duties take you into the forest often but one day you feel compelled to explore further. What could go wrong?"

@acourtofwhatthefuck

bluebird - some fluff and angst for now

studious part 2 - smut

@lalacliffthorne

bat boys roommates - fluff, modern roommates au - there's multiple parts to this au and it's azriel x reader but rhys and cass appear a lot as reader's roommates