#next week!! Morrigan!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

steveslevis · 5 months ago

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can you see right through me?

azriel x mate!reader

summary: after finding out you're mated to the Spymaster of the Night Court, you can't help but feel self-conscious, thanks to the jealous remarks made by patrons at your bookstore.

warnings: mentions of self-hatred and self-sabotage, angst!!!, body image issues, depression, mentions of death, azriel is an idiot but he figures it out ok, mentions of sex & the mating frenzy

word count: 9.5k (oops...)

Ever since finding out that you’re mated to none other than the High Lord’s Shadowsinger two months ago, everything in your life has flipped upside down.

You’re not just some ordinary bookstore owner anymore, you’re now part of the Night Court’s Inner Circle by default. Your status as a citizen in Velaris has completely changed, but you refused to quit working just because of your mate, much to his disappointment. He’d rather you just stay with him in the House of Wind, filling your days reading your favorite books instead of selling them, but you insisted. You wanted to get to know the male better before immediately accepting the bond, moving in and forgetting about your old life, especially after hearing all the things people say about you and your new mating bond when they’re in or around your shop.

You have to deal with sidelong glances and whispers from almost everyone who comes into your tiny shop next to the Sidra, have to hear the spiteful unmated females who might kill to be in your position.

“How do you think she got him? Do you think she slipped one of those banned love tonics into a drink or something?”

“He could be mated to anyone, and the Cauldron picked her of all people?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he already rejected the bond, I don’t ever see them together.”

“She’s definitely just using him for his money and power, she had to have manipulated him somehow.”

“I thought he was with the Morrigan, she’s much more fitting for a male like him, much prettier.”

Every snide remark hits you like a knife to the heart, but still, you keep your composure throughout every single day. It isn’t ever until you’re in the safety of your own apartment above the bookstore that you allow yourself to mull over the comments, to let yourself fall back into old self-loathing habits.

You quickly learn how to contain your sadness to your end of the bond, blocking Azriel from seeing the pain that you endure on a nightly basis. You’re convinced he would be so embarrassed to see you cry yourself to sleep, to see you poke and prod at your skin in front of the mirror, to see you skip over meals in order to appease that incessant hatred filling your mind, to see you become filled with so much disgust in yourself when you replay the remarks over and over and over again.

The comments never seem to die down as weeks pass, and you slowly convince yourself that they’re all right, that Azriel is going to reject the bond because you don’t deserve him. You don’t see him often anyways, as you’re both preoccupied with your jobs throughout the week, which doesn’t help the fact that you’re convinced that he doesn’t want to be around you.

You’re stuck between trying to change yourself to fit what you think the Illyrian would like in a mate and rejecting the bond before he gets the chance to break your heart. You eventually decide it’s worth a shot to change yourself into the ideal, beautiful mate that you think he wants you to be before being stung with the inevitable heartbreak that comes with rejecting a bond.

Sundays used to be your favorite day of the week because you get to close shop at mid-day and spend the rest of the day reading at the foot of the Sidra or walking around to the nearby shops.

For the last few Sundays, you didn’t feel like doing anything aside from wallowing in self-pity in your bed. You never let yourself do just that, though.

You’d taken it upon yourself to change your lifestyle after thinking long and hard about the women that he’s surrounded by in the Inner Circle. All of them are tall and toned and so strong, more in shape than you’ve ever been in your life. All of them have natural beauty and grace that you could only wish to have.

Every Sunday for the last month, you’d spent the afternoon running or doing some kind of training in order to “fix yourself”, to look an inkling more similar to those beautiful high fae of the Inner Circle. This Sunday was no different.

You closed the bookstore around noon and headed up to your apartment, changing into training clothes before deciding to go for a long run after a day of extremely ruthless comments. You slip out the back door of the bookstore to begin your run, but are halted almost immediately when you walk straight into a wall of leather and warm skin, shadows skittering around your shoulders as you take a step back.

Azriel peers down at you as you frown at him, concern lacing his features when he takes you in. His heart races as you stand in front of him, excited to finally see you after not seeing you for over a week. He swears you look different every time he’s seen you recently, your frame beginning to thin out in ways that concern him, but he knows better than to bring that up.

“S–Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” you say meekly, tugging at the sleeves of your jacket while avoiding direct eye contact with the male.

“It’s quite alright,” he says gently, watching you closely as his eagerness extends down the bond to you. “Where are you going?”

“Was just gonna go on a run,” you reply with a shrug, feigning nonchalance as the self-doubting thoughts swirl around in your mind even more in his presence. “Did–did you need something?”

“Am I not allowed to visit my mate whenever I please?” he teases, which makes your eyes widen in fear that he’s actually upset.

“I’m sorry, I–I didn’t mean it like that!” you stammer, shaking your head at him apologetically as you take a step back, backing into the door behind you.

“Hey, no it’s alright. I was only joking.” Azriel says quickly, one of his hands coming up to caress one of your arms. “I didn’t mean to take you by surprise, I’m sorry. I should’ve made sure it was okay that I stopped by.”

You shake your head again, blinking before looking up at him with a frown. He wants more than anything to ask you what’s bothering you, but can see that you’re obviously already distraught about whatever it is, and doesn’t want to pry. Since he’s known you, you’ve always been closed off, like him, about your emotions. So, he opts to change the subject instead.

“I did have a real reason for coming over here though,” he suggests and you nod slowly, waiting for him to continue. “Rhysand requests your presence at dinner tonight.”

“T–The High Lord?” you question, and Azriel nods. “W–Why is he requesting my presence at dinner?”

“Well, we have family dinner once a week, and he claims it’s not a complete family affair if my mate isn’t present.” he explains, the ghost of a smile on his lips, “I tried to tell him to fuck off, because I know you’re typically busy on Sunday nights, but he insists that you come this week, at least this once.”

There’s a pleading look in your mate’s eyes that makes you nearly melt at his feet, and you know you can’t say no to him at that moment.

“I–I, yeah, I can come tonight.” you say finally, giving him a weak smile as he grins down at you triumphantly.

“Perfect,” he retorts, his shadows dancing around you with equal excitement, “I’ll meet you here around five? It’s just over at the River House.”

You nod quickly, forcing a smile onto your face as he leans in to press a kiss to your cheek before bidding you goodbye. The small gesture makes your heart flutter, but you can’t help but wonder how forced it is, can’t help but wonder if inviting you to dinner is a ploy to bring you in and publicly reject your bond.

There’s no way in hell you’re going for a run now.

You spend the next five hours pacing around, thinking about what you’re going to wear if you want to even come close to looking as good as the other females that will be there. The clothes in your closet are few and far between, but you finally decide on your nicest dress, one that's made of a gauzy navy fabric, adorned with silver embroidered stars littered over the bodice. It’s more revealing than most clothes you wear, but it’s the closest thing you have to the clothes that the Inner Circle wear. It takes you almost an hour to feel presentable in terms of makeup and hair, and by the time you’re done, you hear a knock on the back door of the store.

You throw your shoes on quickly before making your way down the stairs, mentally preparing yourself for the evening as you do.

Azriel’s eyes go wide when you open the door, something like amazement and confusion mixed in his gaze as he stares you down.

“I–I’ve never seen you wear anything like this, it’s beautiful,” he starts, unable to tear his gaze from the flowy dress, “You’re beautiful.”

Your chest aches at his compliment as your mind tries to convince you that he’s lying, but you smile up at him weakly nonetheless. He extends his arm for you to take, ready to lead you to the River House across the Sidra.

The two of you are greeted by more people than you’d expect when you enter the High Lord and Lady’s home, but you recognize them all before they get a chance to introduce themselves. You’ve only met Cassian and Nesta prior to this dinner, so the first hour was spent essentially introducing yourself to each of them one-by-one. Azriel stays by your side through each introduction, hand on the small of your back as his shadows swirl around your hands comfortingly. He can tell that something in you has changed since he met you a few months back, that the light and excitement in your eyes when you first found out he was your mate has since dissipated. There’s an unmistakable lump in his throat as he thinks too much into it, wondering if you’re having second thoughts about him.

Dinner comes and goes as smoothly as you hoped it would. The nauseous feeling roiling in your gut keeps you from eating much, only pushing the food around on the plate while taking miniscule bites to fight off any comments that any of them might have about your hesitancy. You’re only roped into conversations every once in a while, so you’re able to sit back and explore the dynamic between the group a little more without much involvement. Azriel mainly stays silent, only making a few remarks here and there.

With a snap of the High Lord’s fingers, dessert appears in front of everyone along with more wine in each of your glasses.

“I propose a toast,” Rhysand suggests after getting everyone’s attention, eyes landing on you finally, “to Y/N, for bringing our Shadowsinger so much happiness.”

A deep blush spreads across your cheeks as you force a smile, raising your glass as the others do too. ‘Cheers’ is mumbled by everyone before they all take a drink, and Azriel reaches over to squeeze your hand that’s sitting on the edge of the table. You turn to look at him, noting an unfamiliar look in his eyes that you nearly mistake for love, before your thoughts are interrupted by a loud laugh from Amren across the table.

“I, for one, am so grateful that Y/N finally came along after all this time.” she says with a sly grin, “because I think if she wouldn’t have, then the Spymaster would’ve continued to pine after Mor for the rest of eternity.”

There’s a collectively uncomfortable murmur from everyone at her words, and Nesta jabs her in the side with a warning glare as she notices the smile on your face falter for a split second. You could feel all color leave your face as your heart plummets to your stomach, the female’s words confirming all of your doubts about your current situation. Azriel shifts his eyes to you then, but you bring back the same composed mask to your face, the same one you’ve held for the last three months any time someone made snide remarks at you, while you try to avoid his burning gaze. You give the female a withering smile, ignoring the worried stare from the male at your side as you do.

“Truly, I’m grateful the Cauldron deemed me worthy of being a welcome distraction to such a male like him,” you say in response with a laugh, hoping your voice comes out in a joking tone as you try to mask the disappointment in your wavering voice.

The comment is enough to earn a few chuckles from around the table, pushing away any awkwardness that stemmed from Amren’s comment. You’re able to skate through the rest of the evening without any snide remarks from the Inner Circle, glad that you’re one step closer to getting the hell out of this house as the group finally starts to stand from the table.

Azriel follows closely behind you as you bid everyone goodbye, exhaustion raking over your bones as you give one final wave to the High Lord and Lady before turning toward your mate.

There’s a look of worry shining in his eyes when you finally peer up at him, shadows skittering anxiously around your wrists in the meantime.

“Ready to go home?” he questions, forcing a smile onto his face as he guides you towards the front door when you nod.

“You don’t have to walk me home, Azriel.” you start once you’re out of earshot of everyone else, stopping in your tracks to look at him again. The look on your face is almost unreadable, but his shadows whisper to him about your pain and embarrassment as the two of you stand on the outside of the front door to the River House. “I’m truly fine to go by myself, you don’t–don’t have to bother to go out of your way for me.”

His brow furrows and a frown pulls his lips down at your words, finally seeing the slightest glimmer of sadness and disappointment shining in your eyes as you speak. He only shakes his head, taking a step towards you before he speaks.

“I–You’re not a bother to me.” he says, unsure of what else to say to you, “If you’re upset about what Amren said, please know that she always says bullshit like that when she’s drunk, I have not thought about Mor in that way for centuries–”

“Truly, Azriel, it’s quite alright.” you interject with a pained smile. “You didn’t ask to be mated to me, I understand if you’re preoccupied with other love interests or if you just don’t want to be with me.”

The Illyrian opens his mouth to speak, but is downright dumbfounded by your words to the point where he simply closes his mouth again. He very obviously had been reading the situation wrong this whole time, as he thought that giving you space was the right thing to do in order to let you process the very new bond from your end. He realizes then that you needed reassurance and not space, but it could very well be too late now. Before he can protest, you’re taking a step closer to him in order to give him a chaste kiss on the cheek before stepping away.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, “I get it, I really do. And–And if you need to reject the bond and never want to see me again after tonight, I’ll understand.”

Oh, fuck. You think he wants to reject the bond.

Hazel eyes meet yours then, and you swear you see a twinkle of regret and hurt shining somewhere between the bronzy flecks, but it’s almost undetectable. Such a miniscule expression that you tell yourself that you imagined it, that his face never changed and that he truly does not care about what you’re saying to him now.

He shakes his head as you take another step away from him, as you turn on your toes to walk away from the townhouse, away from him. His chest feels like it’s going to cave in then, as the bond to his heart hums with a sadness he’s never felt before. He can feel the bond quivering in pain between your souls, threatening to wither away if either of you even thinks about truly rejecting the bond.

But you don’t feel it because you’ve expertly blocked the bond out for the last month, because you truly believe that there’s no way Azriel could ever truly want you, because you’re convinced that he wants this.

There’s no hesitation in your step when you turn your back to the male, walking in swift strides towards the bridge to cross the Sidra to reach your little apartment on top of the bookstore. You refuse to let him see how much it kills you to freely offer up a rejected bond, you can’t let him see how you’re crumbling with each step you take. So you stay steady in your gait, hiding your shaking hands in front of you as you blink back the tears that threaten to spill.

If you would’ve looked back in that moment, you would’ve seen the tears that spilled down the shadowsinger’s cheeks. If you wouldn’t have blocked out the bond in that moment, you would’ve felt the way you almost tore his heart out of his chest as you walked into the darkness.

Azriel didn’t follow after you though, he didn’t want to make things worse than they already were. He’d fucked up so badly by not showing you how much the bond truly meant to him, by simply assuming that you needed space.

So, he simply sent a shadow to make sure you got home safely and sat down on the front step of the townhouse.

He sat on that step for almost two hours, staring at the stars and cursing himself for all of the mistakes he’d made.

You only get one mate in your eternal life, and he really fucked it up this badly already?

Memories of the first few times the two of you had met replayed in his mind as he sat there, remembering how your eyes glimmered with the most love he’d ever been shown in his life.

You were shy and quiet, something he wasn’t used to from being around the Inner Circle for so long. After living with the loud, boisterous crown for centuries, he was used to emotions being expressed outright. So, he’d mistaken your meek behavior for disinterest, mistaken your nervousness for distaste. He thought you’d needed space, needed time to get used to his brooding and intolerable presence, needed room to process the sudden bond. But, fuck, was he wrong.

Everything becomes clearer to the male as as it nears midnight. The ache in his chest becomes more and more painful with each passing minute now, and he realizes that he has to get you back, he has to fight to make you understand how much you mean to him.

_______________________________________

Nesta Archeron started her Sunday much earlier than usual this week, thanks to her mate’s early morning departure. Cassian woke her by rustling around their shared bedroom before dawn, seemingly flustered as he tried to gather his leathers and put them on in the dark.

“You’re not very good at being quiet, General.” she remarks tiredly, sitting up in the bed to flick one of the bedside faelights on.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, shooting her a sympathetic smile as he nearly trips over the leathers he tries to step into. “Rhys said there’s an emergency in Windhaven, Az and I are leaving soon.”

She only hums in response, watching him finish getting dressed in comfortable silence. Cassian stands over her at the edge of the bed after tugging on his boots, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek before heading out for the day.

Nesta knows then that she won’t be able to fall back asleep, so she decides to reach for her latest read on her nightstand. Once she grabs the book, she realizes that she’d finished the night before and is completely out of books to read. She knows then that she’ll have to make her way into town, deciding to take a trip to your bookstore at the base of the Sidra for the first time.

She took her time getting ready, slipping into a gray dress and her usual boots before heading downstairs to eat breakfast. It was a little after seven in the morning when she made her way towards your bookstore, basking in the chilly morning air as she walked along the river.

It took her all of thirty minutes to reach the store, where she was met with a locked door and a dark front window. It was well past opening time for the store and there were no other signs on the door to suggest otherwise, but your store was definitely closed.

“I’m not surprised,” Nesta hears a female say from behind her, giggling to her friend as they pass the storefront, “I’m sure she’s been rotting away upstairs because the Shadowsinger broke their bond or something like that. The store’s been closed all week. A lesser fae store owner like her did not deserve a male as beautiful as him.”

Nesta turns to see the culprits of the spiteful comments and laughs, and the two High Fae females’ eyes widen upon her whipping her head towards them.

Their smirks fall immediately, the one who was speaking starts to open her mouth but Nesta only holds up a hand to shut her up.

“I don’t know either of you females–and I’m very glad I don’t–” the sharp-eyed female spat out, “but I do know the Shadowsinger and his mate. And all I have to say is that if I hear either of you coming around here to harass her or if I hear of you spewing more lies about her relationship, I will be sure to mention it to the High Lord and Shadowsinger. I’m sure neither of them would be very happy to hear the rumors flying around.”

The females nod feverishly as Nesta stares them down with that silver fire flickering lowly in her eyes, both mumbling apologies under their breaths as they scurry away.

Nesta lets out a huff, turning on her heels to make her way towards the other bookstore across town, where she only finds two new books for herself instead of the countless romance novels she knew she would’ve found at your carefully curated store. The remarks from the two females about you aren’t lost on her as she makes her way through the city, their spiteful words and evil giggles running through her mind as she replays the scenario.

Instead of trekking all the way back to the House of Wind after gathering her books, she makes her way to the River House in order to spend the day with her favorite person–Nyx.

The day goes by quickly between reading and rolling around with the toddler and his mother, and it’s evening before she or Feyre even realize it. Three Illyrian warriors clad in leathers make their way into the drawing room where the two females lounge on the couch, looking exhausted from a day of crisis management at the camps.

“Long day?” Nesta says as she raises her eyebrow at the three males, stroking Nyx’s hair as he sleeps silently on her chest.

Her mate only grunts in agreement, coming over to press a kiss to the crown of her head in greeting. The High Lord is greeted by Feyre with a loving stroke of his cheek, smiling up at him sympathetically. Azriel only stands at the threshold, looking more brooding and closed off than usual.

“Well, good news is you can tell us all about it at dinner.” Feyre suggests, trying to lighten the sour mood of the three males as she reaches for Rhys’ hand to intertwine into her own. “Nuala and Cerridwen just finished making some delicious stew and I don’t know about you all, but I’m starving.”

Dinner seems to lighten the mood quite a bit for the group, quiet conversation carrying through the dining room after Cassian and Rhysand get their complaints out for the day. Azriel sits on the other side of Feyre, silent for the majority of the meal, only engaging when Cassian involves him.

A burning question gnaws at Nesta as she takes in the sad, hazel-eyed male, she can almost feel the pain radiating off of him from across the table as he stares intently down at the barely touched food in front of him. It’s hard to read the male, so she’s not entirely sure what the sadness is about, but she has to know eventually.

“How was your day, Nes?” her thoughts are interrupted by Cassian’s words and his elbow nudging hers lightly.

“Great, for the most part. Got to spend it with my favorite nephew,” she jokes, grinning briefly over at the babbling toddler being fed by his mother. “But I did find something very interesting on my trip to get some new books this morning.”

She notes how Azriel’s eyes flicker towards her then, intrigued by the mention of going to a bookstore.

“Oh, did you go to Y/N’s store? I’ve been meaning to ask if you wanted to take a trip over there to get some new books.” Feyre asks while forking some food for her son.

“Well, that was the original plan.” Nesta retorts, lips pulling into a half-frown before turning towards the shadowsinger, “Have you heard from your mate lately, Azriel?”

Azriel drops the spoon he was holding into the bowl of stew with a loud clatter, obviously taken aback by the question directed towards him. The room is silent as he finally looks up, seeing four expectant pairs of eyes staring back at him, Nesta’s gaze the harshest out of all of them.

“No, I haven’t heard from her since Saturday.” he says, willing his voice to be strong as he feels as though he’s going to throw up.

“Hm, interesting.” Nesta hums, eyes sharpening even more, if that’s even possible, “I tried to stop by the store because I finished my last novel last night, but the door was locked and the lights were all off. Then I ran into the most interesting pair of females who I overheard say that the store had been closed all week.”

“All week?” Feyre questions, a frown on her face now too.

“You haven’t heard from your mate for a week and you haven’t thought to try to contact her?” Rhys interjects, disappointment laced in his tone as he stares down Azriel from across the table, his honed gaze rivaling Nesta’s.

“She–She hasn’t left her apartment since last Saturday.” Azriel grits out, stopping anyone else from their questioning. “She thinks I want to reject her, to reject the bond. And I’m starting to think I should.”

Everyone goes silent then, even Nyx’s babbling is hushed as a thick air of tension fills the large dining room. Azriel’s hands are shaking as he stares at his untouched glass of wine, shadows slashing around his wings angrily now.

“Why do you think that?” Nesta’s the only one brave enough to question him, unafraid of facing the upset male. “What makes you think you should reject the bond?”

“I fucked up. I thought she needed space, thought she was overwhelmed by me, by all of this, by being part of the Inner Circle by default.” he says, a pained expression on his face as he finally looks up to Nesta. “I hurt her and I didn’t even realize it. She needed me and I wasn’t there for her. I can’t figure out how to make it better, I–I don’t know how to take away her pain. I’ve been her mate for less than six months and I’ve already lost her trust in me. I don’t deserve such a sweet creature like her.”

“Do you want to reject the bond?” Nesta persists, and he knows she means to ask if he loves you or not.

“I don’t. But–”

“There’s no but, Azriel.” Cassian interrupts firmly, “You either want to, or you don’t. And you don’t want to reject it, I know you don’t. You’ve never been happier than you were when you realized you had a mate and that it was her. You need to get your head out of your ass, stop pitying yourself and start showing her that you want to be with her. If not, you’re going to kill the poor female. You’re gonna fucking kill her from a broken heart.”

_______________________________________

In all honesty, you don’t know what day it is anymore. You’ve sat in the dark in your apartment above the bookstore all alone for Gods know how long, letting yourself wallow in the sorrow that fills your chest every time you breathe.

You can’t remember the last time you ate, the last time you did anything aside from stare at the wall next to your bed, save for the times that you’ve gone to the bathroom. It truly feels like you’re dying, like you’re withering away into nothing, and you might as well be. You don’t know what day it is, but you do know that Azriel hasn’t tried to contact you since you left the River House on Saturday, you do know that he wants nothing to do with you.

You hadn’t realized how much you had grown to rely on the male’s visits and nervous glances, how much they’d excited you, until they were no more.

The golden thread in your soul quivers every time you think about him, but you don’t let yourself think about missing him for too long. You always shut down before it gets too bad, and push yourself back into the thoughts of self-hatred, the thoughts of how you wish you’d just cease to exist already. There wasn’t anyone around anymore to check on you, anyone to make sure you made it through this bout of depression like there used to be. Your sister and mother have been gone for years, and now your mate, the one who gave you a sliver of hope for the shortest time, is gone too.

When the first knock falls on the door to your apartment, you barely hear it over the incessant ringing in your ears. You choose to ignore it, thinking whoever it is will go away eventually if they stand out in the late evening cold for long enough.

But they don’t.

They knock, and knock, and knock, and knock for what feels like thirty minutes, each knock getting louder and more insistent than the last.

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to fall back asleep to ignore the sound, but it doesn’t work. After what feels like hours, but is probably only a few minutes, the knocking finally stops.

What you don’t hear–or see–in that moment is the shadows that slip under the door at the bottom of the stairs, quietly unlocking it for their master to slip inside, and the other shadows ahead of their master that report back to him about your state before he makes his way up the stairs.

Moments later, you hear the creak of the stairs and your heart sinks, but you feel too weak to move, too weak to save yourself, and for a moment, you thank the Cauldron that some intruder has finally come to put you out of your misery in one way or another.

You don’t expect the weak, broken voice of a male at the top of the stairs as you’re laying with your back towards the threshold, the sadness in an all too familiar voice when you hear, “Gods, Y/N. I am so sorry.”

It takes every ounce of strength out of Azriel to walk over to the bed after taking in the sight of your studio apartment in complete disarray. The place is unkempt and needs plenty of repairs just from what he can see with a quick scan, but that’s not what hurts his heart the most in the moment. You facing the blank wall, staring mindlessly ahead as you’re curled up in a ball at the edge of your bed is what breaks him. He finally makes his way over to the wall that you’re facing, but you don’t look up at him, unable to take the energy to complete the small gesture.

Azriel falls to his knees in front of you, reaching a hand out to stroke your hair. He takes you in fully then–your unkempt hair, chapped lips, red cheeks and heavy eyes–you truly were dying from a broken heart.

“Y/N,” he says gently, trying to keep his voice as strong as possible while choking back tears. You take a long moment to finally look up at him, a look of confusion and then delusion crossing over your face as you do–you had to be dreaming him, right?

“I’m–I’m so fucking sorry, love. Gods, how long have you been laying here?” he says, and you only blink up at him because you’re not even sure of the answer, numb to it all at this point. “Are–Do you want me to help you? Can I help you somehow, please? I–I wanna fix this, I wanna make you better.”

A strange noise leaves your throat then as your brow furrows at his words, your delusions during depressive episodes have never said anything like this to you before, and that’s when it all feels too real. You slowly realize that this is very much the real Azriel kneeling in front of you with tears shimmering in his eyes, clasping your very clammy hand between his very warm ones. Tears brim in your own eyes now, the weight of the entire situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. You’d ruined yourself before he’d even broken the bond, so now you’ve hurt him by somehow signaling to him of your suffering.

“‘M sorry, A–Azriel,” you croak out, the first words to have left your lips in days.

“S–You’re sorry?” he says, voice more stern than before, shaking his head persistently, “No–No, there’s nothing for you to be sorry about, love.” He squeezes your icy hand then, giving you a weak, bitter smile, “I’m sorry for not coming sooner, okay? I’m so sorry and I’ll apologize until the day I die for not being here for you when you needed me. I–I wanna help you now, if you’ll let me. Will you let me help you? Can I take you home with me to get you some help?”

Despite the confusion and sadness swirling around in your deprived brain, you nod at the male, who jumps up almost immediately after you nod. He slowly peels the covers off your frail form, heart breaking at the sight of you. He pushes the ache in his chest down to be strong for you then, gently scooping you up into his arms. The two of you are engulfed in shadows seconds later as Azriel shadow-walks to the House of Wind as quickly as he can.

You don’t remember much from your first moments at the House of Wind, other than the fact that there were a lot of people around you in a very short amount of time. You recognized some of them, the High Lord and Lady, along with Cassian and Nesta, but other faces were less familiar. One woman came into the room you laid in, tugging a warm blanket over your body before using what you could only assume was healing power on you. She’d mumbled something to Azriel on her way out before patting him on the shoulder, and that was the last thing you’d remembered before finally falling into a peaceful sleep for the first time in a week.

Sunlight streaming in through the curtains woke you later on, you weren’t entirely sure how long you’d been out for but you’re sure it had been for more than a few hours at this point. You groaned lightly as you stretched your weak legs, eyes fluttering open to take in your surroundings fully for the first time. The room smelled of mahogany and amber, a familiar and inviting scent you knew too well to not understand whose room you were in.

Though alone at the moment, you know he’s not far, as his shadows skitter excitedly around you as you attempt to sit up in the bed.

The door opens not even two minutes later, the shadowsinger standing in the doorway with a tray of what looked to be steaming food, a glass of water, and some medications. He nearly drops the tray when he sees you sitting up in the middle of his bed, not expecting you to already be awake and so alert. Without a word, he strides over to the large bed, placing the tray on the bedside table before sitting in the chair he’d positioned on the side where you laid.

“Hi,” he says with a sharp inhale, giving you a weak smile as he searches your eyes for any emotion he can find.

“H–How long was I out for?” you ask meekly, the full weight of your actions crashing down on you all at once. “How long have I overstayed?”

“What?” he questions, a frown pulling his lips down as his heart sinks. You truly think you’re burdening this male, when all he wants is for you to be safe and to feel loved. “You haven’t overstayed, I brought you here to heal, I wanted you to come here to get better.”

You shake your head then, blinking harshly at him as you refuse to believe what he’s telling you. “N–No, you only came to find me because I’m–I’m stupid and didn’t give you the opportunity to reject the bond before I mourned what we never had.” you insist, looking at him with wide eyes. “I’m sorry you had to deal with all of this, please–please, you can reject it now, you don’t have to pretend anymore.”

The level of self destruction going on in your mind was on another level that Azriel couldn’t deign to comprehend in the moment, but he knew it wasn’t just by your own doing. He can see the internal turmoil you’re going through, can feel your peril down the bond that he now realizes you’ve been shrouding in your own shadows for months, can feel the way you’re tearing yourself apart from the inside out. He reaches for you then, hands coming up to cup your cheeks gently as his shadows rub soothing circles along your back to calm you down, though you continue to babble apologetically about how he should hate you and how you’re the one who should be apologizing for everything.

“Y/N, hey, hey, hey. Look at me.” he coos gently, thumbs stroking your cheekbones softly to bring you back to the moment as you finally lock eyes with him, “I don’t want to reject the bond, I never wanted to reject the bond.”

You try to shake your head feverishly, but he doesn’t let you as his hands stay on either side of your face. “Nesta told me about some females she heard outside your store on Sunday, who said some pretty foul things about you.” he begins, having to reign his anger in as he speaks about the females, “Is that something that happened a lot at the store? Did females that come into the bookstore say things to you about us often?”

You can’t even look at him now, dread and self-loathing gnawing at your chest as you think back to all the hateful comments thrown at you throughout the last few months. You shake your head slowly now, brow furrowing as you try to push down the bile rising in your throat.

“No, it only happened a–a few times.” you lie bluntly, staring down into your lap as you try to pull away from his touch again and this time he lets you, watching closely as you attempt to stand from the bed. “I want to take a bath.” you say, attempting to change the subject to something less painful.

Azriel is there to catch you when you all but fall when trying to stand on your own two feet, hands landing on your waist to situate you back on the edge of the bed, “You’re not supposed to be getting up on your own yet. You didn’t eat for almost a whole week, you’re too weak to stand right now.” he says softly, hands firmly planted on your waist still, “Do you want me to take you to the bathroom? This food will still be warm when we return if you’d rather bathe now.”

You nod wordlessly, brow pinched in frustration at your current situation. Azriel easily picks you up, carrying you bridal style into the en suite bathroom and sitting you on the edge of the large tub as he draws a warm bath. He turns the tap off once it’s nearly full, turning on his heels to leave you alone in the bathroom for some privacy.

“A–Azriel,” you call out before he shuts the door, making the male stop in his tracks to face you, heart nearly shattering when you look at him with wide, shameful eyes. “Can you help me bathe?”

The male is at the edge of the tub in an instant, nodding at you gently. He looks away as you strip out of the clothes that you’d been in for a week, tossing the dirty pajamas into a pile at your feet before stepping into the tub slowly. He helps you ease down onto the bottom, letting go of your hand he didn’t realize he’d grabbed once you tug out of his grasp to wrap the arm around your knees you pull into your chest.

You settle into the water, letting the warmth engulf your cold limbs as you lean your head back to dip your hair, up to the scalp, into the water. Azriel gives you a few minutes to relax in the water, watching as your muscles finally relax slightly under the caress of the liquid. He reaches for the bottle of shampoo eventually, eyeing you closely as he pours some into his hands to lather it. You lean your head up as he does, giving him a small nod of invitation before he reaches for your scalp.

There’s nothing but love and tenderness behind his caress, fingers combing through your damp hair to thoroughly clean it. He’s careful with every movement, making sure to not make the wrong move and send you spiraling for one reason or another.

It’s such a tender moment as he gently tilts you back to rinse your hair with a cup of water that it nearly makes you sob, but hold back for him to continue.

“Can you promise me that you won’t ever let yourself get like this again?” he says, voice barely above a whisper as he runs conditioner through your hair. “I–I don’t know if I can handle seeing you so sad ever again. I won’t let you destroy yourself over my stupidity, not when I’m the one to blame for this whole situation.”

You tense at his words, chest tightening as you hear his voice crack when he chokes back tears. It takes you a moment, but you finally turn to face him, your own tears blurring your vision as you look up at the hazel-eyed male.

“It’s–It’s not your fault, Azriel.” you say, shaking your head insistently at him, “It’s my fault for making you feel obligated to be nice to me, I–I know you didn’t ask to be mated to a lowly, lesser fae bookshop owner when there’s plenty of beautiful high fae females out there ready to accept your hand in marriage at the drop of a hat. I shouldn’t have tried to pursue you after the bond snapped, I–I should’ve let you reject it then so you could go be happy with whoever you want to be with.”

“It’s you I want to be with, Y/N.” he insists, hands shaking as they fall from your head. He falls to his knees then, pivoting so he’s face-to-face with you when he continues, “I don’t care that you’re lesser fae, I fucking hate that you’re considered that anyways, it’s a disgusting term. I’m not even a high fae myself, I don’t care about title or status or whatever else, I only care that I’ve finally found my mate.” Azriel is trying his damndest to keep himself from falling apart as he speaks, “My mate, the love of my life, the one that I get to spend the rest of my days with. I know you feel like I pushed you away and I know I made you feel unwanted, but I thought you wanted space. I know now that you don’t, and I promise you that I’ll spend every waking moment, from now until we die, showing you that I am so fucking happy that you of all people are my mate. I love you.”

Whether he realizes it or not, Azriel projects his passion and love down the bond in the moment. Your deceitful brain would’ve told you he was lying had it not been for that tug and flow of warmth between your souls, if it had not been for the true, unadulterated ache you felt in your chest when he said that he was happy that you were his mate.

Tears well up in your eyes once more as you stare at him, really taking him in, in full form, for the first time. He’s so beautiful, and though there’s a little voice in the back of your mind that still tells you that he’s lying, deep down you know that he’s all yours. Something blooms in your chest then, something stronger than you’ve ever felt, something so compelling that you can’t just sit and stare at him anymore.

You don’t say anything as you continue to stare up at him, reaching your shaky hands out of the water to cup his cheeks. He almost flinches when you do, taken aback by you initiating the touch, but he doesn’t. With the strength gifted to you by the love confession of your mate, you’re able to maneuver onto your knees and tug him a little closer, crashing your lips into his in a gentle, watery kiss.

“I love you, Azriel.” you murmur against his lips when you finally pull away from the kiss for a short moment.

He smiles against your lips, pulling you back in for another kiss as his hands grip your forearms to keep you from slipping in the tub.

“We really need to get you cleaned up before we can finish this conversation, yeah?” he encourages in between kisses, smoothing down your wet hair as it drips on the side of the tub.

You breathe out a laugh, nodding at him before turning to let him continue washing your hair, and then moving on to your body. Each touch threatens to set you on fire, but there’s no sexual intention behind them, only loving caresses meant to wash you clean of the last week of pain.

After getting you out of the shower, Azriel slowly dresses you in one of his large shirts, mumbling an apology about how he’ll be sure to bring some of your clothes over if you’d like him to. You only smile at him softly, knowing you’ll be bringing more than a few of your items over soon enough.

He insists that you eat after your bath, bringing you back to the bed where the soup is still steaming hot, likely thanks to the House that Azriel explained was imbued with magic and would do anything you wished it to. You eat the stew after taking the handful of medications and strength tonic that the healer, Madja, had given him for you, relishing the feeling of the warm food settling in your stomach.

The change in your energy level after the strength tonic is astonishing. You feel as though you can run for days, but know better than to try something like that in front of your terrified mate. But, there is one thing that you feel like you need to do at the moment, something that’s long overdue.

You’re laying in Azriel’s arms when you finally get your burst of energy, sitting up abruptly enough to make him sit up with you. There’s a look of wild concern on his face when he reaches for your hips, steadying you as you pull your legs to the side of the bed.

“Are you alright?” he questions immediately, brow furrowing when you miraculously stand on your own two feet. “Do you need something? The House can get you whatever you need.”

You give him a small smile, leaning down to caress his cheek before kissing his forehead gently.

“I wanna get this thing myself,” you state matter-of-factly as he raises a brow at you. “You stay right here, alright?”

Before he can protest, you’re walking towards the door of the bedroom to swing it open. You shut the door behind you, leaving the male in the room without a word.

The House is magic alright, you confirm that when you’re on your way down the stairs and it lights the way for you, only letting the fae lights on the direct path towards the kitchen light the way. It knew exactly what you were doing.

You’re met with a cutting board, a block of cheese, a loaf of bread and a bowl of grapes next to an empty plate when you enter the kitchen, a lone fae light above the counter lighting the area so you can prepare the plate. You make quick work of cutting the cheese and bread, trying to ignore the way your hands are shaking incessantly as you saw into the sourdough. It only takes you a few minutes to lay everything out on the plate and the House takes care of the rest, then you’re on your way back upstairs, on your way to change your life forever.

Azriel shifts quickly on the bed when you return, sitting up straight as he locks eyes with you. His heart nearly leaps out of his chest when his eyes flicker down to the plate of food in your hand, realizing what you were up to when you left the room.

You give him a nervous smile, gripping the plate with two hands as you make your way over to the bed, careful not to tip its contents onto the floor as you quiver. You wonder if he can hear your heart beating in the moment, as you feel like it’s about to beat through your ribcage with one more loud thump.

“Y/N…” he trails as you shakily extend the plate to him when you perch on the edge of the bed, looking up at you with a look you can only describe as certainty. “Are you sure about this? You want to accept the bond right now?”

“If you don’t eat this food right now, you might as well send me back to my little old apartment so I can try to die of a broken heart again.” you say, voice barely above a whisper as you give him a watery smile and push the plate closer to him.

He takes the plate from you then, but doesn’t grab any food at first, looking back up at you before he does. He leans over, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss before taking a shuddering breath.

“I promise you that after this bond is accepted, I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you that you are so much more than all of those evil things that those females said about you. I’ll spend every waking moment showing you how perfect you are and making up for the time that we didn’t get to spend together,” he begins, planting a kiss on your cheek, “I love you.”

“I love you, Azriel.” you whisper, “now eat that food, please. I’m tired of waiting.”

He smiles at you then, leaning back on the bed as he grabs for a piece of bread and cheese, ready to spend the rest of his eternal life with you, with his mate.

_______________________________________

It takes almost a whole month for the mating frenzy to die down enough for the two of you to be able to integrate back into society. Rhys insisted on letting the two of you stay in the Cabin for your time away, but you opted to spend your time in Summer in a secluded bungalow for the four weeks instead.

When you do return to Velaris after your time away, Azriel insists on taking another week off from spymaster duties to get your bookstore back on track and to help move your belongings to the House of Wind while the two of you look for your very own home, somewhere closer to the Rainbow where you can continue to run your bookstore. You don’t dare to protest your mate’s wishes, letting him alternate between packing the little amount of things you have upstairs and taking inventory in the store while you run the register.

It’s a sunny Saturday when you open your doors for the first time after over a month of being closed, and you’re much busier than you’d expected to be in all honesty, though it seems many of the females coming in are just being nosy to see how true it is that you’re actually back in the flesh.

There are less snide remarks thrown your way now, but still enough that they make you flinch every once in a while. They don’t bother you anymore, though. During your time away, Azriel showed you how much you meant to him and how beautiful he thought you were in many ways, with his mouth, with his hands, with his tongue, with his…

“Do you think she’s single again? Like…do you think he actually rejected the bond?” you hear a high fae female say on the far end of your busy shop, her eyes darting in your direction as she speaks to a friend.

“I hope so, there’s no way he actually–Oh my Gods.” her friend says, eyes wide when they fall on none other than the shadowsinger himself emerging from the back room of your store, a dozen books in hand.

A satisfied smile spreads across your face as Azriel walks behind the checkout counter to press a kiss to your forehead before placing the books next to you. The sound of the females whispering hastily falls on deaf ears as your mate turns to you, grabbing a small piece of paper off the top of the pile of books he’d been holding.

“Found six more copies of both of those romance novels you said you were out of, so no need to order more until those are gone.” he says while pointing at the books. “You really need a better inventory system.”

“Hmm, maybe I’ll just hire you to do it for me instead, since you’re so good at it.” you tease, shooting him a smirk.

“As long as I’m compensated fairly, I wouldn’t mind.” he jokes with a wink, pulling you in for an embrace to speak to you lowly. “On another note, you are officially fully moved into the House of Wind. So once you’re closed up for the day, we’ll be able to go home and officially christen the bedroom.”

“We’ve already christened that bedroom,” you giggle, rolling your eyes at him, “it’s been thoroughly christened, multiple times at this point. And if I remember correctly, it’s the first place that was christened by us.”

“And?” he says, lips quirked up into a smirk, “I plan on christening it multiple times tonight, and the next night, and the night after that…”

“Okay, I get it,” you laugh, slapping his chest lightly as you pull out of his grip, “You’re insatiable.”

“And you’re beautiful and the love of my life.” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple.

It was safe to say that you’re getting nowhere past the mating frenzy phase of your relationship anytime soon.

And you’re okay with that.

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#azriel #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #acotar x reader

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velarisdusk · 9 months ago

Text

Velvet Whispers, Midnight Truths

Azriel x Reader

part 2 -> word count: 5.3k content: [ explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV, az doesn't pull out lol, casual sex, hurt/comfort kinda?, jealousy, friends to lovers, language ] summary: Frustrated by Azriel's apparent indifference towards you, you seek solace in the arms of others. But words exchanged over a family dinner ignite a long-suppressed jealousy. A heated exchange, an unforeseen confrontation, and a passionate encounter follow. author's note: i received this ask a couple of weeks ago and omg i had so much fun writing this, i love drama ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

You liked to think you could handle a lot; political disputes, bloodshed, mountains of paperwork. But this? No, this was simply too much. You were in hysterics when Nesta found you — or rather when Nesta was rounding a corner and you bumped into her with enough force to make even Cassian stumble back.

“(Y/n), do you sincerely believe that that,” she’d gestured between you and the general direction you’d run from, “was ever going to work?” Her words were like a knife to the gut, her tone like grabbing it by the hilt and twisting. How she’d known what you’d seen was beyond you. But it wasn’t lost on her, or anyone else except Azriel apparently; the longing stares out the window down to the training ring, always sitting next to or across from him at the table, the way your scent would change when he’d pop into and out of a room — a dead giveaway of where your mind went when he was around.

So to see him like that — with her… It was a sight that seared itself into your memory. Their lips were locked in a passionate kiss, her fingers threaded through his dark hair. His hands roamed her body with unbridled desire, tracing the curves of her sides, waist, and hips, cupping her breast, and cradling her neck. To say it stung would’ve been the understatement of the millennia.

“It’s just… how he is,” her tone softened when she noticed your wince. “He was obsessed with Morrigan for five hundred years… five hundred, (y/n). I won’t be surprised if he’s set on Elain for five hundred more. What she plans to do, well,” Nesta raised her hands as if to say ‘not my problem.’ Her words were harsh, but you knew they held some truth.

“Maybe you just need to go to a pleasure house and fuck him out of your system,” she’d said plainly, smoothing down your hair as if she were discussing the weather. A pleasure house? They were illegal, but you weren’t naive, you knew they were out there. They were all underground; places you found through a friend of a cousin of a neighbor. Before you could dry your eyes, Nesta pulled a pen out of her pocket and scribbled an address onto your wrist. You didn’t want to know why she’d had it memorized. “Pretend it’s him, or the cute guy at the coffee shop, or whoever honestly. Hell, maybe even think of whoever it is you’re fucking,” she said with a smirk as she wrote. “Whatever you need to do to get over him, do it.”

You spent months in and out of taverns, walking in alone, walking out with a different male each time. It was fun… when they knew what they were doing. It was a wonder; males don’t know what they’re doing even if they have all the time in the world to figure it out. On the nights when there were enough of you for a family dinner at the River House, you didn’t miss how they all tried to scent you subtly, and eventually how Azriel’s shadows crept under the table all the way towards your feet, curling around your ankles as if trying to unravel your secrets. That was one of the many things that had stopped lately, sitting near him. The first night you took Mor’s usual seat, she’d given you a bemused look but said nothing of it. Meanwhile, the windowsill grew colder, both from the changing weather and your prolonged absence.

Your thoughts, however, were as persistent as ever. You didn’t think about him as often these days (Nesta’s advice worked pretty fast, you thought), but that was before he walked into Rhys’s office while you were discussing how to best quell the persistent tensions with Autumn.

It had been a quick in-and-out from him, typical as of late. Azriel strode in, his movements fluid and purposeful. He dropped some papers onto Rhys’s desk, leaning over your shoulder to do so. As he straightened, his right hand briefly rested on your other shoulder, the touch light but noticeable. He gave Rhys a nod and left. The warmth of his touch lingered long after he’d gone.

“We’ll have to speak to Eris again, soon,” he’d said with a barely-there note of urgency as he sifted through Azriel’s report.

“I can go,” you’d volunteered. “I’ve been meaning to go for some honey. Autumn Court honey-”

“-is the best, I know,” he finished with a soft smile. “Listen, I know I don’t need to warn you, but whatever conversation you may have with Eris, it’ll likely be heated. And tense. Things right now aren’t the best after-”

“I know,” it was your turn to say. “I can handle him, Rhysie, don’t you worry,” you teased, using that nickname you knew he’d roll his eyes at. “I’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

The feeling of Azriel’s hand on your shoulder was a brand on your skin.

Not an hour after you’d met with Rhysand, you were standing in the entrance of the pleasure hall Nesta’d told you about all those weeks ago. The kind-looking female at the desk brought out a book of names so you could choose… your companion for the evening. You’d flipped through page after page, your nerves growing with each description you read. None of them were your type to begin with, but to pick and choose from a book felt wrong. You were about to point one out at random when the door opened, and who should walk in but the heir to the Autumn Court himself?

You’d somehow convinced him not to rush out, and to have a chat over coffee. He somehow convinced you that it was meant to be that he walked in right when you were about to make a mistake.

You’d somehow convinced each other it wouldn’t be an entirely terrible and irreversible mistake to get a room at the hotel across the street for a couple of hours.

Then again one night the next week.

And again three days after that.

That was how you found yourself underneath Eris Vanserra now. It was meaningless for both of you, purely physical, but you couldn’t deny the added thrill of finding someone so mutually attractive.

“Gods, you’re so fucking tight,” he groans from behind you, grabbing your hips and pulling you back onto his cock with a force unmatched by any of your tavern trysts. The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room, punctuated by your moans and heated whispers.

Rhysand would be waiting for you to get back. You were supposed to meet with Eris to discuss the logistics of a diplomatic meeting to address inter-court relations. And then there was the family dinner tonight. Almost everyone was home – only Amren was absent, her extended stays in the Summer Court becoming more frequent these days.

“Hurry up and finish, I’ve got places to be,” you tell him over your shoulder, looking his way just as he lands a firm smack on your ass.

“Better places than right here?” he asks. With a particularly hard thrust, you’re thrown off of your forearms with a yelp, face-first into the pillowy sheets.

“I didn’t say that-” You’re cut off by a moan that escapes you when he reaches around and toys with your nipple. “But I’ve got to get back and tell Rhysand that we-”

“Let’s not talk business, please,” he says, a hint of irritation in his voice. “The last thing I want to think about right now is leaving the lands of one tyrant to go back to the lands of another.” You turn your head indignantly at that, ready to defend your High Lord, when he shoves your face back into the mattress, abandoning any pretense of gentleness. Eris’s hands roamed your body, his touch igniting sparks along your skin. Your breath caught as he reached a particularly sensitive spot. You arched into him, pushing aside all thoughts of diplomatic meetings and family dinners.

This? This was simply too good.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

For the first time in months, Feyre called for a family dinner at the River House. It was a rare occurrence lately; as soon as someone returned, someone else had to leave. She and Cassian had returned from the Continent this morning, and Azriel and Nesta from Autumn hours ago.

Azriel’s gaze swept across the table, taking in the faces of his family. Rhys sat to his right at the head, one hand intertwined with Feyre’s, the other gently stroking Nyx’s hair as the toddler babbled happily in his high chair. Cassian’s booming voice filled the air, entertaining them with tales of his and Feyre’s adventure, and Mor leaned in, her golden hair catching the candlelight as she listened. Even Nesta, usually with her mask of indifference, couldn’t entirely hide the fond exasperation in her eyes as she watched her mate’s exaggerated retelling.

When his eyes fell on Elain, the tips of his ears reddened slightly. The memory of their encounter all those months ago flashed through his mind. The passion, the nervousness, the realization that followed. He’d handled it poorly. The guilt of touching her so intimately, only to find himself unmoved, still weighed on him. He quickly averted his gaze, hoping no one had noticed his momentary discomfort.

They’d been happily sitting at the table just shy of ten minutes when a realization struck him. The chair diagonal to his remained suspiciously empty. He cleared his throat, taking a sip of water to cover his sudden unease. “Where’s (y/n)?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral. “I thought we were all home tonight?”

“She’s probably with Jasper,” Cassian said offhandedly, sawing into his steak with perhaps more force than was necessary. Azriel’s grip on his fork tightened imperceptibly.

Feyre shook her head, a slight frown creasing her brow. “Jasper? No, that ended forever ago. Last I heard, she was seeing Ares.”

“Ares?” Nesta’s eyebrows shot up. “I could’ve sworn I saw her with Roan a couple of weeks ago.”

“Before Ares,” Feyre clarified, exchanging a knowing look with her sister.

Mor leaned in, unable to hide her curiosity. “Wait, wasn’t there a Soran at some point too?”

He tried to maintain his composure, but it grated on his nerves. His jaw clenched tighter with each name mentioned, his grip on his fork becoming white-knuckled. The metal bent under the pressure of his fingers, and his shadows whirled around him, betraying the storm of emotions the words had unleashed.

Elain’s soft voice cut through the chatter. “It’s been Eris a few times now.”

The table fell silent, all eyes snapping to Elain. She paused, her glass of wine halfway to her lips, suddenly aware of the weight of her words.

“Lucien mentioned something about it,” she murmured, before taking a rather large sip.

Something inside Azriel snapped. He slammed the bent fork onto the table with enough force to rattle the dishes, the sound cutting through the stunned silence. Without a word, he abruptly stood, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.

Ignoring the concerned looks and half-formed questions from his family, he strode out of the dining room. His shadows darted around him, agitated and dark.

Outside, he took a deep breath of the cool night air, trying to calm the storm raging inside him. But he couldn’t; not until he knew where she was. His shadows slipped from him, spreading out into the night, searching for her. He clenched his jaw, the thought of them, of her with him, branded into his mind. With a low growl of frustration, Azriel let his shadows envelop him completely.

Azriel sat at the small, dimly lit cafe, the steam rising from the untouched cup of coffee in front of him. He didn’t need it, not really. The caffeine wouldn’t do anything to calm him, but it gave him something to do with his hands. He settled into a corner seat, his shadows swirling restlessly around his feet as he waited. He stared out the window, his eyes trained on the hotel’s entrance, but his mind was elsewhere. The fury simmered beneath his skin, an itch he couldn’t scratch, and it made him feel restless.

But why was he so mad?

They weren’t together. They’d never been together. She was free to do whatever she pleased, with whoever she pleased. He’d never allowed himself to think of her that way — she was beautiful, yes, but he had never looked at her and felt that familiar tug of desire that he’d experienced with others. She was more than that… It was different.

He scowled, leaning back in his chair as the thought sank in. If that was true, if he’d never seen her in that light, then why did the thought of her with Eris make his blood boil? What was it about seeing her with that arrogant piece of shit that had twisted something deep inside him?

His jaw tightened. Maybe it wasn’t just about Eris. Maybe it was about her.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

Azriel’s grip tightened around the coffee cup, the ceramic warm against his palm as he watched the entrance of the hotel from the cafe. It wasn’t long before he saw Eris stride out, pausing briefly to glance around as he adjusted the cuff of his sleeve. Azriel scoffed, imagining all the things he’d love to do to that self-satisfied prick. The idea of wiping that smug look off Eris’s face brought a twisted sense of satisfaction.

But then, his breath caught in his throat as you stepped out of the hotel, turning to walk in the opposite direction, towards the River House. Azriel’s jaw clenched. Were you planning on showing up and pretending nothing had happened?

He let out a slow, measured breath, willing the fury to simmer down as he pushed away from the table. Keeping a safe distance, he followed you through the darkened streets, his shadows drifting ahead to ensure your path was clear. He told himself it was just to make sure you got back safe. That was all.

But the anger, the confusion, the gnawing sense of something he couldn’t quite name — it lingered, gnawing at him with every step he took.

As you neared the house, Azriel’s pace slowed, his footsteps nearly silent as he watched you walk the final block. The moment you turned the corner, his form dissolved into shadows, and he winnowed back into the house, appearing in the dining room with a gust of displaced air.

“Az, where the hell did you–” Cassian started, but Azriel cut him off with a cold glare.

“Shut up and eat.”

“Az?” Feyre’s voice held a note of concern. “You–”

“I said sh–” he stopped himself when he looked up and realized who’d spoken. “Eat.” Azriel’s tone was softer but still left no room for argument as he dropped into his seat, his jaw clenched tight. The others exchanged uneasy glances, but after a brief, tense pause, the conversation resumed. It was quieter at first, voices subdued as they cautiously picked up where they’d left off, but soon enough, the normal rhythm returned.

Minutes later, the door creaked open, and you walked in, your presence instantly drawing the room’s attention. You hung up your coat, smoothing down your hair as you made your way to the table. But as you sat, the scent slammed into him, unmistakable — Eris. It was all over you, clinging to your skin, and your clothes, filling the room with the unmistakable evidence of your encounter.

Azriel’s fists clenched under the table, though his face remained neutral. To his left, Elain’s lips curved into a small, knowing smirk, her gaze flicking between you and Azriel. She had noticed the shift in him, the way his entire demeanor had changed the moment she casually mentioned who you’d been spending time with lately. And now, with the proof of it hanging in the air like a challenge, she could see through his cool facade, the turmoil beneath it. But Azriel said nothing, just stared down at his plate.

The table was silent as you ate, the tension thickening with every passing moment. Azriel’s gaze was fixed on you, his patience wearing thin. When it became clear that you had no intention of bringing up the unmistakable smell that lingered around you, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Why do you smell like Eris?” His voice cut through the silence with a directness that left no room for misinterpretation.

You looked up, eyes wide with surprise at the bluntness of his question. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for your response.

Azriel stayed deathly still, back straight against the seat. “You knew someone was going to ask. His stench is all over you — you reek of him. So why?”

You raised an eyebrow, your expression one of calm defiance. “I think you’re old enough to have had that conversation with someone else already.” Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of Rhysand summoning a bottle of liquor from the cabinet.

A murmur rippled through the room. Elain’s eyes widened in delighted surprise, while Feyre’s face twitched, clearly uncomfortable. But a smirk played on Nesta’s lips, amused by the scene unfolding before her.

Azriel’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn’t look away from you. His jaw clenched, and the intensity in his gaze was unmistakable. “You know, most people would have the decency to keep their affairs private.”

Your lips curled into a sardonic smile. “And some people think it’s their job to play moral watchdog. How very… quaint.”

Mor, now holding the bottle of liquor and pouring, raised an eyebrow at the exchange but made no move to intervene, clearly interested in the outcome.

Azriel’s nostrils flared, his irritation evident. “Quaint? Is that what you call it when someone’s reckless behavior affects everyone around them?”

You leaned forward, your voice icy. “How is what I choose to do with my time affecting everyone else? And who’s being reckless here? I’m not the one who’s turned this dinner into a circus.”

Nesta’s smirk widened slightly, her eyes gleaming with a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. The room’s atmosphere grew thicker, tension palpable as both of you held your ground, eyes locked on each other.

“Can we take this somewhere else?” Azriel’s voice was edged with frustration. It was unlike him to let his composure slip.

You shook your head, a glint of challenge in your smile. “No, you’ve already brought it up. Go ahead.”

His voice dropped, carrying a hard edge. “I don’t think you should be with him.”

Your gaze hardened, your tone sharp. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but I’m not ‘with’ him.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed. “I don’t think you should be fucking him then!”

You met his challenge head-on. “And who are you to decide who I fuck?”

His frustration boiled over, his fists clenched at his sides. “I’m–” He started, but the words faltered on his lips. The reality of the situation hit him hard, and he realized he had no right to be this worked up. With a ragged breath, he abruptly stood from the table, circling it to your seat. Without another word, Azriel grabbed your arm with a firm grip and began to drag you towards the door. Your eyes widened in surprise, but you didn’t resist. The room’s atmosphere had shifted, the air charged with an electric tension. Azriel’s grip on your arm was firm but not harsh, leading you toward a quieter corner of the house.

He guided you into a dimly lit hallway, far from the prying eyes of your family. As soon as the hall door clicked shut behind you, the space seemed to close in. Azriel’s breath was uneven, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that spoke of more than just frustration.

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” he muttered, his voice low and rough. “I just… I can’t stand the thought of you with him.”

You stepped closer, your voice equally low but steady. “And what does that matter to you? You’ve never been one to concern yourself with me.”

Azriel’s gaze softened. “That’s not true. I’ve always cared about you. And thinking about you with him… it drives me mad.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t seem like you were too concerned when you were feeling up Elain.”

Azriel’s expression shifted, guilt and frustration clouding his features. “That’s not fair. Things are complicated, you know that. It wasn’t about not caring for you.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Then what was it about? Because to me, it seemed like you were perfectly fine ignoring me.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, but his voice was steady. “I never ignored you, (y/n),” he said, his touch firm yet gentle as he lifted your chin to meet his gaze. “I may have been spending more time with Elain, but I never ignored you. Her and I already spoke, forever ago, a few days after it happened, actually. It was a mistake. One I deeply regret.”

You shook your head, the hurt evident in your eyes. “Words are easy, Azriel. Actions–”

“–actions were a mess, I know.” He cut you off, stepping closer. “But I’m trying. I’ve been trying.”

You searched his face, conflicted emotions warring within you. “And yet, here we are, you feeling the need to interfere in my life.”

Azriel’s gaze held yours, earnest and intense. “Because I care about you, just as much as you care about me, if not more.” You had to suppress an eye roll at that. If only he knew. “Knowing you’re with him… I can’t help but feel it’s not right.”

A heavy silence fell between you, the unspoken words hanging in the air. Before you could break it, Azriel closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a fierce, hungry kiss. It was raw, demanding, and full of the emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface all this time. You responded in kind, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer. The world outside seemed to fade away. In the quiet darkness of the hallway, your bodies pressed together, the tension from your confrontation fueling a different kind of intensity.

Azriel’s hands roamed over your body with a desperate need, as if he was trying to erase the anger and frustration from earlier, trying to replace the scent tinging your usual honey and lavender with night-chilled mist and cedar. He pushed you against the wall, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat of his touch. His fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as his kiss grew more insistent.

You gasped against his lips, your body responding to his touch with desire and need. Your hands traveled down to the hem of his winter sweater, fingers curling around the fabric as you tugged it upwards, needing to feel more of him, needing to touch the skin beneath. Azriel didn’t hesitate; he broke the kiss just long enough to yank it over his head, discarding it to the side before his mouth was on yours again, more demanding, more fervent.

You let your hands explore the expanse of his chest, feeling the lines of hard muscle, the cool touch of his skin a contrast to the searing heat between you. Every caress, every brush of his lips, was fueled by the unspoken tension that had been simmering inside of you for so long. Though the thought of this wasn’t on your radar an hour ago, it felt as though this moment had been inevitable, the collision of anger and passion combusting into something neither of you could resist.

Azriel’s hands slid beneath your shirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine as he lifted the fabric, fingers trailing over your skin, up to your waist, his touch tender yet possessive. With a swift motion, he pulled your shirt over your head and then his lips were on your neck trailing heated kisses down to your collarbone.

“Is this what you wanted?” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and heavy, every word laced with the same intensity that had sparked this fire between you. “Is this what you were trying to find with those miserable fucks?” He nipped at your shoulder, his teeth grazing the delicate skin before soothing it with a kiss.

You could only nod, words failing you as the need in your body overpowered everything else. You wanted this — wanted him — and there was no space for hesitation. Your hands gripped his shoulders tighter as he pressed you more firmly against the wall, his hips grinding against yours in a way that made you gasp again.

Azriel’s eyes met yours, dark and filled with a mixture of desire and something more — something deeper. For a brief moment, everything paused, the air thick with unspoken emotions that hung between you. Then, as if some unspoken agreement had been reached, his lips found yours again, and all the pent-up tension spilled over. He pressed his hands firmly against your hips, his grip possessive as he lifted you effortlessly from the floor. With a deliberate stride, he carried you towards the guest bedroom he was staying in, his lips meeting yours once again. His lips burned against yours as he carried you down the hall, his pace steady but urgent. The guest bedroom door swung open with a firm push, and he set you down gently on the edge of the bed. The room, dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp, seemed to pulse with the intensity of the moment.

He loomed over you, his hands still gripping your hips, his breaths deep as he took in the sight of you sprawled before him. His gaze roamed hungrily over your body, a smoldering look in his eyes that made your pulse quicken. His fingers traced the curve of your waist as he leaned in to press open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down to the swell of your breasts. He reached beneath you, his fingers finding the clasp of your bra. You arched your back, offering him better access. With a skilled movement, he undid the clasp and slid the garment off your shoulders. His gaze lingered on your exposed skin, filled with an intense, appreciative heat.

His hands roamed eagerly, exploring every inch of your exposed skin. He paused momentarily to meet your eyes, the burning desire in his gaze mirrored your own. “Tell me what you want,” he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. “Tell me how to make you feel everything you need.”

You pulled him down for another searing kiss, your fingers threading through his hair as you whispered against his lips, “Just touch me, Azriel.”

His response was immediate. He moved with a practiced grace, undressing you with urgency. Azriel took a moment to appreciate the view, his gaze dark and intense with a mixture of hunger and reverence. He shifted position, his hands exploring the newly exposed expanse of your skin. His lips followed, trailing fiery kisses down your torso, savoring every inch of you. He took his time, lingering over the most sensitive spots, teasing and testing to see what made you shiver and gasp.

He knelt between your legs, his breath warm against your inner thighs as he leaned in to kiss the sensitive skin. His tongue flicked out, teasing and exploring with a skill that made you writhe beneath him. The sensation was overwhelming, each stroke and flick sending waves of pleasure through you. His hands were steady and reassuring as he guided you through the rising tide of your desire.

The room was filled with the sounds of your shared desire — the soft rustle of sheets, the breathy gasps of pleasure, and the occasional low groan of satisfaction. Azriel’s touch was relentless and precise, each movement meant to drive you closer to the edge.

When he finally positioned himself above you, there was a moment of intense eye contact, his gaze fierce and protective, as if etching every detail of your expression into his mind.

As you reached for him, your fingers tracing the torso you’d pleasured yourself to the thought of countless times, Azriel gently took your hand in his. His voice was low and firm, filled with a mixture of resolve and tenderness. “Not tonight,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “Tonight, I want to take care of you. We can worry about everything else another time.”

With that, he shifted his focus entirely to you, his hands and lips working in concert to bring you to the brink of pleasure. His body melded with yours, the sensation overwhelming, and you gasped at the sudden fullness, every inch of him filling you in a way that was electrifying and profoundly intimate. Azriel’s movements were rhythmic and purposeful, each thrust making your breath hitch.

“Azriel,” you breathed, your voice trembling with need. “I’ve wanted you so badly.”

His gaze softened, his hands tightening their grip on your hips. “I’m here,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

You could feel the tension coiling tighter inside you, each thrust driving you further into a state of heightened arousal. Azriel’s movements were perfectly curated to push you closer and closer to the edge. His hands and lips explored your body with a dedication that made your pulse race, his touch alternating between gentle caresses and firm grips.

His lips traveled from your ear to your neck, his kisses lingering and teasing, each one sending a fresh wave of pleasure coursing through you. You arched against him, your body instinctively seeking more, craving the deep connection he was giving you.

“You feel amazing,” Azriel murmured, his voice low and filled with awe. “Every part of you. I can’t get enough.”

You managed a breathless moan, your fingers gripping the sheets as you writhed beneath him. “Don’t stop,” you gasped. “Please, don’t stop.”

Azriel’s response was a low, rumbling growl of approval. His rhythm never faltered, he was relentless in his devotion, ensuring that every inch of you was covered in his touch, every gasp and shiver met with a responsive stroke. The pressure within you continued to build, the pleasure intensifying with every passing second. Azriel’s hands traced patterns on your skin, his fingers brushing against the most sensitive spots with a skill that made you tremble.

When you were on the verge of losing control, Azriel’s lips found yours once more, his kiss deep and passionate. His movements matched the fervor of the kiss, driving into you with a rhythm that left you gasping and clutching at him. You felt a wave of overwhelming pleasure wash over you. Azriel’s movements became more urgent, his breaths coming in ragged bursts as he drove you to the brink. You clung to him, your body arching and trembling as the climax hit with a powerful intensity.

He followed you into the release, his body shuddering with his own pleasure as he held you close, his grip firm and reassuring. The world seemed to dissolve around you, leaving only the shared warmth and satisfaction of your intimate connection.

Azriel looked down at you with a teasing grin. “You know, we might want to wash up.”

You laughed, catching his playful tone. “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t head back downstairs like this.”

He leaned closer, his grin widening as he scented the air near you. “No, they’ll be able to tell we’ve been at it. You’ve still got some Autumn on you and I’m going to be the one to scrub it off.”

#acotar #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #acotar fanfic #acotar smut #azriel x reader smut #azriel smut #acotar reader insert

2K notes · View notes

rosierin · 2 months ago

Text

all giggles & glitter | atsumu miya

synopsis; (y/n) comes home drunk from a staff do and atsumu is tasked to take care of her.

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

It was almost 2 AM when the apartment door slammed open with the kind of force that made Suna lift his head from his phone and sigh through his nose.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

Atsumu, who’d been half-asleep on the couch with a blanket kicked halfway down his legs, jerked upright like he'd been shot. “Huh—wha’?”

From the hallway, Osamu’s muffled voice rang out through the darkness, dry and unsurprised. “Ya break that door, yer payin’ for it.”

“Oopsie…” came the sing-song reply.

Atsumu and Suna stared at the culprit.

There, framed by the glow of the corridor light, stood (y/n). Polaroid camera in one hand, purse in the other, dress slightly askew and glitter clinging to her face like it had a vendetta. Her hair was tousled, her cheeks flushed, and she was grinning like she had just committed a crime and gotten away with it.

She looked like a walking cocktail menu and a night of gossip come to life.

“Oh, great,” Suna drawled, locking his phone and tossing it onto the coffee table. “She’s wasted.”

“I am not wasted,” (y/n) declared immediately, pointing a dramatic, wobbly finger at him.

She took two steps forward and—promptly tripped over nothing.

Atsumu shot up like a bridesmaid ready to catch a bouquet at a wedding, but she miraculously caught herself—arms thrown out, knees bent, sticking the landing like a drunken gymnast.

“SEE?” she announced, chest puffed out proudly. “I'm so graceful.”

“Gracefully ‘boutta crack your head open,” Osamu muttered from his room.

Atsumu was already next to her, placing his hands on her shoulders to steady her. “Jesus, babe, how much did ya drink?”

“I dunno.” She blinked up at him with wide, sparkly eyes. “It was fruity, though."

Suna sighed, leaning back on the couch. “Uh oh. Cocktails.”

“Where were ya?” Atsumu demanded, not letting go of her. “Ya should’ve called.”

“I texted!”

"Who?"

Suna held up his phone. “Me. She just said, ‘imwith the grils gnighttt 🥴💞”

Atsumu leaned down and squinted at the screen, lips pulled into a thin line. “That's not exactly… reassurin'.”

“She’s been out with her work friends,” Osamu added, finally stepping into the living room in a hoodie and pyjama pants, hair sleep-mussed. “Staff do, remember? Dancin’, gossipin’, the whole nine yards.”

“Danced my ass off,” (y/n) confirmed, giving a proud nod. “There was a conga line. I led it. Guys, I was majestic.”

“I’m sure you were,” Suna said, deadpan.

“I was,” she insisted, wobbling slightly. “And you'll never guess what—Sadie actually broke up with her boyfriend—which, to be fair, she should’ve done ages ago—and then Ria told me all about the Sabrina Carpenter concert she went to last week—you know, the pretty blonde girl who sings ‘that’s that me espresso.’ Oh! And I’m pretty sure Morrigan bit a guy at one point, and—”

“She’s spirallin'',” Osamu observed.

He took another look at her, scratching his head as he surveyed the damage. “Alright, let’s get ya to bed before ya end up in the damn hospital.”

“But I’m not tired,” (y/n) whined.

“Yes, ya are,” Atsumu said firmly, already guiding her toward her room.

“No, I’m not—oh my God, my feet hurt.”

Suna raised a brow, eyeing the heels she was wearing. "Not surprised wearing those things."

She gasped dramatically and pointed at him. “You—you are not helping!”

“I wasn’t trying to,” he droned.

Atsumu crouched down and tapped her calf. “C’mon, lemme take yer shoes off.”

(Y/n) placed a hand on her hip and stared at him.

“…What?”

“Are you gonna propose?” she asked, completely serious.

Suna snorted. Osamu sighed. Atsumu turned red.

“That is NOT what I was doin’!”

She squinted. “Are you sure?”

“Just gimme yer damn foot,” he grumbled, pulling off her heels while Suna continued to watch, immensely entertained.

(Y/n) wiggled her toes in relief and let out a pleased hum. “Thanks, ‘Tsum. You’re so nice.”

Atsumu froze.

You’re so nice.

Osamu clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Breathe, lover boy.”

But Atsumu was not breathing.

Meanwhile (y/n) was already tottering toward the couch, flopping down in the middle like it was her royal throne. “You guys though—“ she gestured to Osamu and Suna. “—are being mean.”

Suna tilted his head. “You wanna know what’s mean? Dragging your drunk ass home at two in the morning and expecting us to babysit.”

(Y/n) gasped. “You like babysitting me!”

“Do I?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“…Yes.”

“For the love of—Suna,” Atsumu cut in. “Put her to bed already.”

Suna gave him a long look.

“You do it.”

“She’s your childhood friend.”

“Yeah, which is why I know better than to let a drunk (y/n) anywhere near my bed.”

Osamu pinched the bridge of his nose. “Then just take her to hers.”

Suna clicked his tongue before pushing himself off the armchair. “Fine.”

He then grabbed (y/n)’s arm, but she clung to the couch like a feral raccoon. “No! Noooo, please I wanna hang out with you guys!"

“You can tomorrow—when you’re sober,” Suna grunted, yanking her up effortlessly, ignoring her protests.

“Don’t wanna sleep,” she whined.

“I don’t care.”

“I wanna eat something.”

“No, you don’t.”

(Y/n) turned her big, glassy eyes to Osamu. “’Samu… can I have onigiri?”

“Absolutely not.”

She pouted. “What if I starve?”

Osamu gave her slow blink. “Then I’ll put it on your tombstone: ‘Drank too much, begged for rice, got denied.’”

(Y/n) scowled.

Okay, so one twin was dud.

How about—

(Y/n) turned her big, glassy eyes to Atsumu. “Atsumuuu, say something.”

Atsumu panicked.

He always panicked when she got like this—when her voice went all soft and sleepy and her eyes got shiny and warm and her words came out without filters.

He never knew what to do with her when she was like this. It threw him off completely.

She was usually composed. Witty. A little sarcastic. But now she was… soft. Honest. Childish, almost. And so touchy.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he said, voice low and careful as he slipped his arm around her waist, gently guiding her away from Suna. “Let’s get ya comfy.”

She hummed contentedly and let him lead her down the hall, too tired to fight anymore.

Atsumu guided her up the stairs, one hand steady on her lower back, the other holding all her belongings.

She stumbled once—just a little—and he caught her easily, murmuring something soft and fond under his breath. (Y/n) didn’t quite hear it, but the warmth of his palm on her spine made her shiver.

The bedroom door creaked open, dim moonlight pooling across the floorboards. She blinked at the familiar space, like it was somehow new. Or swaying. Hard to tell.

Even so, as she stood in the middle of the room, she could tell this wasn’t hers.

“Are we in your room?”

Atsumu, already heading toward his wardrobe, nodded. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“’Cause Suna won’t have ya.”

“No, I mean… why are we in your room and not mine?”

Atsumu’s hands faltered. He cleared his throat and mumbled, “Just wanted to keep an eye on ya, is all.”

(Y/n) broke into the broadest grin. “Awwww!”

Atsumu rolled his eyes, but his ears turned a little pink.

A quiet moment passed. (Y/n) started humming to herself, rocking on the balls of her feet like she couldn’t quite stand still. Atsumu glanced over his shoulder and chuckled to himself.

Then he heard her yawn.

He turned back around. She was rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand, voice soft and slightly slurred.

“Hey, Atsumu?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re so…” She squinted at him, smiling dozily. “Tall.”

Atsumu blinked. “...Thanks?”

“You ever notice that?” she asked, waddling over to him and pressing her cheek against his shoulder blades. “You’re like. So tall.”

He laughed under his breath, trying not to combust on the spot. “Alright, c’mon. Bedtime, space cadet.”

He led her to the edge of the bed and eased her down. She plopped onto the mattress with all the grace of a sleepy toddler, swaying slightly like a buoy in the ocean.

Atsumu shook his head fondly, rummaged through his drawer, and grabbed one of his oversized T-shirts at random. It was a little wrinkled, but clean.

“Here,” he said, handing it to her. “Change into this, okay?”

She took it slowly, holding it up by the sleeves like it was an ancient relic. Her brows furrowed.

“…It’s huge.”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “’Cause it’s mine.”

(Y/n) gasped like he’d handed her a sacred object. Then—without shame—she brought it to her face and sniffed it.

Atsumu turned red. “Don’t smell it, ya weirdo!”

She giggled. “It smells like you.”

“Yeah, that’s—that’s how shirts work,” he stammered, waving his hands a little too much. “Jesus, yer so—”

“You’re blushing,” she said, delighted, pointing at him like she’d won something.

He dragged a hand down his face. “I hate drunk you.”

“No, you don’t.”

He peeked at her through his fingers. She was smiling at him—soft, sleepy, unguarded—and it hit him square in the chest.

“…Yeah,” he muttered. “No. I don’t.”

A knock at the door interrupted them. Suna leaned against the frame, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold.

“I’ll give you two some privacy,” he said, voice way too casual.

“DON’T SAY IT LIKE THAT,” Atsumu yelled, spinning around like he’d been caught committing a crime.

Osamu’s voice followed from down the hall, dry and muffled. “I’m goin’ back to bed."

(Y/n) just giggled harder, pulling Atsumu’s shirt over her head like it was the best thing that had happened to her all night. It swallowed her frame, the hem almost brushing past her thighs like a second dress.

Speaking of...

Atsumu blinked.

Then frowned.

“Yer just gonna put it on over yer dress?”

She looked up at him, her smile dopey and innocent.

He quirked a brow, mildly concerned, gesturing vaguely at her glittery, slightly wrinkled outfit. “Ain’t that uncomfortable?”

(Y/n) looked down at herself like she hadn’t even realized. She furrowed her brows. Looked back up.

“…No?”

“Yer just gonna sleep in yer party dress?”

She squinted at him suspiciously, like she was about to be tricked. “Are you making me take it off?”

Atsumu faltered, thrown off by the phrasing.

“What? No! I just—I meant—you don’t have to, I just figured you’d wanna, y’know, change properly.” He waved a hand, flustered. “It’s fine. Ya don’t have to.”

He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair.

Then he noticed the pout on her face.

“…What’s wrong?”

“Help me,” she said, tugging at the hem of her dress like it had suddenly become unbearable. “It’s itchy. Not comfy.”

Atsumu stared at her.

Like, really stared at her, and processed her words.

“Ya want me to undress ya?”

She let her arms droop by her sides in utter defeat. “Mhmm.”

His brain screeched to a halt.

Cogs turning. Morals clashing. Hormones threatening to riot.

This was a test. This had to be a test. And God—was he about to fail it?

He dragged both hands down his face and knelt in front of her slowly, like he was approaching a bomb with a pair of scissors and no idea which wire to cut.

“I can’t,” he said, voice firm but way too gentle. “Sober you would kill me."

She was giving him a look.

That look.

Eyes round and shiny, lips jutting out in the softest pout he’d ever seen in his life. She looked so genuinely pitiful, so impossibly cute—it was a miracle he didn’t spontaneously combust.

He almost caved when she murmured, all breathy and helpless—

“Please.”

His hands twitched toward the hem of her dress.

Then froze.

Then twitched again.

He squeezed his eyes shut, mentally reciting the rules of being a decent human being. He was not gonna be that guy. He liked being alive. He liked her trusting him.

Then, like a gift from the gods—

“Atsumu, don’t you fuckin’ dare."

Osamu’s voice rang loud and righteous from downstairs, like the ghost of judgment incarnate.

Atsumu flinched like he’d been slapped by the universe.

He stood up fast, cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair like it could somehow smooth out the chaos inside his head.

“Right,” he said, a little too loudly. “Don’t ya need to do your skincare?”

(Y/n) blinked, distracted instantly. Her pout vanished. Her eyes lit up.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, “you’re right—my skin!”

She stood with new purpose, looking momentarily sobered by the sheer urgency of her nightly routine. Then she turned and scurried toward the hallway, bumping her shoulder against the doorframe on the way out.

Atsumu let out a breath as soon as she was gone.

Close call.

Atsumu sighed again and stood, shaking his head like it could somehow reset his brain. It didn’t.

He lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching the empty hallway, then rubbed the back of his neck and wandered out.

She’d been so determined about her skincare, and considering she’d just walked into a doorframe five minutes ago… she probably needed help.

He padded down the hall and stopped just outside the bathroom. The light was on, and from inside came a flurry of clinks, clatters, and a loud “ow!”

He knocked once. “Ya need help?”

There was a pause. Then a crash. Then—

“Yes please.”

He sighed again—but it was smiling this time.

Pushing the door open gently, he found (y/n) crouched on the floor, holding the lid of a serum bottle in one hand while the rest of the serum dripped in sad little globs onto the tile.

She looked up at him with watery eyes, the very picture of tragedy. “That was expensive.”

Atsumu huffed a laugh and crouched beside her. “C’mon, princess. Let’s save what’s left for yer pretty face.”

He helped her up and carefully lifted her onto the bathroom counter like it was second nature. She let her legs swing gently while he picked up the scattered bottles, reading the unfamiliar labels with mild confusion.

“Ya got a whole science lab in here,” he muttered, uncapping the cleanser.

“Uh-huh, that's what skincare is,” she said, wiggling her fingers mysteriously. “It's more than a routine. It's a ritual.”

“Sounds dramatic.”

“Skincare is dramatic, if you think about it.”

He snorted and wet a cloth with warm water, gently dabbing at her face to clean off the remnants of the night. Glitter came off in waves.

“What's with all the glitter?"

“Morrigan and Ria wanted to be disco balls."

Atsumu let out a slow exhale. “Not surprised.”

She giggled, leaning forward so her forehead bumped lightly against his. “You’re being very sweet, y’know.”

“I’m always sweet,” he said, carefully smoothing a little serum across her cheeks.

She gasped softly. “It’s cold!”

He smiled. “It is. You keep it in the fridge or somethin’?”

“Apparently that's what you're meant to do,” she mumbled, eyes fluttering shut as he worked. “Don’t stop, though. Your hands are really gentle…”

He paused for half a second at that.

Then recovered. “Yeah?”

“Mmhm,” she sighed. “Like… real boyfriend material hands.”

Atsumu’s lips quirked up. “That so?”

“Mmhm,” she said again, more sleepily this time. “You could probably get me to do anything with hands like that.”

His hand stalled on her jawline.

“…Anything, huh.”

(Y/n) didn’t seem to notice. She was in her own little skincare dreamland. “Like if you told me to… I dunno, rob a bank? I’d be like, ‘sure, as long as you apply my SPF for me after.’”

Atsumu tried not to laugh, but it came out anyway—low and warm. “Yer dangerous when yer like this.”

“I’m just relaxed,” she murmured, eyes still closed. “You’re the one touching me... making me feel like this."

A short pause.

"Like what?"

Atsumu didn’t look up. He was too focused on the task at hand—spreading the serum evenly, making sure he didn’t miss a spot, acting like this was nothing.

That being said, he still didn’t miss the way she shifted. The way her fingers gripped the hem of the oversized shirt, twisting the fabric absently in her lap.

He didn’t tease her, though. Didn’t say the million things he wanted to. Just glanced up at her, and chuckled—soft, knowing—relishing the warm flush blooming across her cheeks.

Whatever she was thinking… he’d get her to admit it someday. When she was sober.

When he could finally ask and have her mean it.

He gently tapped her chin to tip her head up, fingers warm against her skin as he patted in her moisturiser with slow, practiced care. The act was clinical for the most part. Practical.

Until somehow, it wasn't.

Not when (y/n)'s breath hitched softly. Not when her lashes fluttered open and she looked at him—half-lidded, soft, vulnerable in a way that made Atsumu's stomach twist.

His hand lingered for a moment too long.

And then the air felt different. Thicker. Slower. A little quieter.

“You missed a spot,” she whispered, pointing vaguely at her cheek.

He leaned closer. “Where?”

“Here,” she said, tapping her face.

He raised a brow. “There’s literally nothin’ there.”

“You don’t know that,” she said, lips twitching. “You’re not the expert.”

He huffed another laugh. “Fine. Lemme just—”

He pressed his thumb gently to the spot, smoothing out the remaining product.

The silence stretched.

Then—

“Y’know,” she said, voice soft, “you’re kinda good at this. I might make you my official skincare applier.”

Atsumu grinned, stepping back and putting the lid on the moisturiser. “Add it to my résumé.”

“You’d look cute in a spa uniform.”

“Yer flirtin’.”

“I am,” she agreed cheerfully.

Atsumu shook his head, turning away so she wouldn’t see the way his ears were going red again. “Hop off the counter, you menace. Time for bed.”

“You gonna carry me?”

He quirked a playful brow. "Do ya want me to?"

Then she tilted her head, all soft and hopeful and tipsy.

“Will you actually?”

Atsumu hesitated.

Rolled his eyes for show.

Muttered something under his breath about being too nice for his own good.

And then, without warning, he bent down and scooped her up bridal style.

(Y/n) yelped, laughing as her arms flung instinctively around his neck.

He smirked down at her, trying to play it cool despite the fact that his entire nervous system was buffering. “Told ya I was sweet.”

“You’re my knight in soft cotton sweatpants,” she said dreamily.

He chuckled. “Yer heavy, is what you are.”

“Liar. I’m dainty.”

“You’re deadweight.”

Still giggling, she nestled her head against his shoulder. “You love this, really."

He didn’t answer.

Mostly because she wasn’t wrong.

He pushed open the bedroom door with his foot and carried her to the bed, dropping her gently onto the mattress like she was something fragile. She bounced once and flopped backward with a laugh, limbs spread like a starfish.

He stood above her for a second, staring.

She looked… happy. Sleepy. Safe.

“Get in,” she said, voice muffled against his pillow.

Atsumu raised a brow. “You’re takin’ the whole bed.”

She peeked one eye open. “There’s space.”

With a sigh that was more resigned than annoyed, he slid in beside her, resting on top of the blanket while she curled up underneath. Her hair was still damp from the steamy bathroom, fanned across the pillow like a halo. She started talking immediately—half stories, half thoughts—just sleepy little musings that spilled out like honey.

“I wish work let us wear comfy clothes. I’d be so much nicer if I could wear sweatpants.”

“Mhm.”

“And if customers had to bring us snacks. That should be the rule.”

“Mhm.”

She turned to face him, nose nearly touching his. “I could never work with you though.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’d distract me.”

“Oh?”

“With your face.”

He huffed a laugh through his nose, not trusting himself to respond.

She kept talking—less coherent now, voice softening with every word. He thought she was drifting off, but then her hand slipped out from under the covers and landed lightly on his chest.

Then her head followed.

She scooted over, tucked her face into the curve of his shoulder, and let out a little sigh of contentment.

Atsumu froze.

Fully, completely froze.

His entire body went taut like someone had just hit the pause button on his soul. His heart thundered in his ears, his brain scrambled for a single logical response, and every cell in his body screamed don’t move, don’t breathe, don’t ruin this.

And then… she started snoring.

A soft, barely audible, but real snore.

Atsumu let out a shaky exhale, blinking up at the ceiling with wide eyes.

Tonight was gonna be a long night.

A very long night.

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satoshy12 · 10 months ago

Text

Phantom Festival

Once a year, Amity Park is the scene of a massive ghostly festival, and Danny and the others enjoy it and have fun. Like if not Amity Park, all other places would be in hell or totally destroyed.

But the next day, the Blob-ghosts and others fix everything as they wake up. (Think of the party as What IF Thor's party).

And other people Danny meets during his time travel. From the wizard Mamaragan, Morrigan, Mordred, Vandal, Nabu, Hippolyta or Ra's. It's vacation week for them.

It was a huge party, and when the day and night were over, most of them left or went on holiday to Amity Park.

Toga-wearing Billy really wasn't sure how he felt about it. As he spent time with the other kids, he had many questions to ask his hero friends about the party they were having here when the wizard took him with him.

+ Dionysus is perfectly fine with people thinking he and Phantom are the same. The boy knows how to throw a good party and he has a whole new Cult Town.

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inkedinshadows · 7 months ago

Text

Bound by Secrets

Pairing: Azriel x Beron’s daughter!reader

Summary: When you get caught sneaking around the Hewn City, you end up in one of the dungeon cells to be interrogated by the infamous Spymaster. But things don't go exactly the way the General and the High Lord thought.

Warnings: mentions of sex, allusions to torture and scars

Word count: 6.4k

A/N: Okay sooo, I got a bit carried away with the first part and it came out longer than anticipated, with Az coming in at around word 1.7k. I know it’s a lot without him since it's his appreciation week, but the build-up is worth it (hopefully) and seeing how long the whole fic turned out to be, I hope you don't mind too much. There's still a lot of Azriel, I swear! (and I might have gone a little bit off-topic but shh it's fine). Anyway, happy @azrielappreciationweek everyone!

You knew being here was dangerous.

The Hewn City was not a place you could simply sneak into, and yet here you were, lurking in a corner of the throne room, waiting for the right moment to slip out and search for the treasury.

You had been sent there with a mission: find the Veritas Orb. How your father knew where it was, or what he needed it for, was not information you had been made privy to. But the High Lord of the Autumn Court had been clear: you were to steal the Orb as soon as possible. Knowing the kind of punishment he dealt when disappointed, you always did your best to comply. That left you with little time to prepare and, apparently, a huge number of problems.

Because just as you were about to make an unseen exit through the hallway you had previously selected, every single person in the crowd stiffened, and the chattering stopped abruptly, plunging the room into a silence so deep you could hear a pin drop.

As you turned to see what had happened, you realized everyone was staring at the entrance doors, just as they swung open. One look at the two tall figures slowly stalking in, and you knew you needed to get out before it was too late.

You blended into the shadows against the wall as the Spymaster and the General of the Army made their way to the dais on the other side of the hall. A smudge of red and gold was all you caught out of the corner of your eye when the Morrigan entered, just as you bolted down the hallway.

The High Lord and High Lady would be next. And if they caught you not only in their Court, but in their underground city as well, you'd be in serious trouble. You couldn't risk it. You needed to get out.

Yet you couldn't leave. Not without the Orb. Fear seized you for a split second at the mere thought of the pain you would suffer at your father's hands if you were to fail, and then you broke into a sprint—or as close to a sprint as you could manage with the high heels you had worn to blend in with the Hewn City inhabitants.

A thrum of power reached you despite the distance you had already put between yourself and the throne room, a clear sign of the High Lord and Lady’s arrival. You needed to hurry.

“Damn heels,” you muttered under your breath. You stopped long enough to take them off, gather them in your hands, and resume your run. At least your night-black dress was loose enough around the legs to allow you to move freely.

You had no idea where the treasury was. Your father didn't know, merely telling you the Orb was likely kept there—as if that helped. But you wouldn't consider where else it could be, instead choosing to focus on one thing at a time.

You wandered through the hallways, peering into every room you could find. Most of them were studies, sitting rooms, or smaller chambers for holding court. None of them what you were looking for.

Pushing a heavy wooden door open, you discovered a staircase that spiraled down. The basement. Or dungeons, you guessed, summoning a flame in your hand to light the steps as you began the descent. It made sense for the treasury to be on a lower level—harder to reach and easier to hide. That was where your father kept his most treasured possessions as well.

With a smirk, you placed your palm on the knob and summoned more of your power. Your hand became a bright shade of orange, and a thin circle of fire spread from it, growing over the surface of the doors until it burned the spell protecting them. A little trick your oldest brother had taught you years ago.

The stairs ended in a long hallway with many other tunnels branching off. You chose one out of instinct and kept going like that for a while, trying to remember every turn you took. The place was like a maze and there was nothing to help you distinguish the different paths. But eventually, your seemingly random choices paid off, and you found yourself in front of large, unguarded double doors. Upon closer inspection, you realized they were warded, hence the lack of actual guards.

Pulling your hand away, it returned to its normal color as you shoved the door open and walked inside.

Piles of gold lined the walls, jewels and weapons displayed in glass cabinets, and everywhere you turned, something shiny caught your eye. You delved deeper into the room, discovering beautiful pieces of artwork scattered around, but you couldn’t let them distract you from your task. You began searching the place instead, opening boxes and trunks, anything you could find, but there were no signs of the Veritas. The more you looked, the clearer it became.

The Orb wasn't there.

A frustrated sigh escaped you, and you stifled a groan as you made your way back to the tunnels, picking up the heels you had left by the door.

There had to be another room where more treasure was kept. You just had to find it. You were so sure it would be somewhere nearby that you made a stupid mistake: you didn’t count your turns, didn’t memorize when and where you had gone left or right or straight.

Maybe you should have asked for help before coming here. You had considered it, but you didn't want to endanger more people than necessary—or, even worse, have the truth discovered—and you honestly had thought you could do this alone.

You were wrong, and now you were lost. Like a damn fool.

Too caught up in your worries and rising anxiety, you did not hear the approaching steps. As you turned around the corner, you bumped into a tall, muscular body. A strong hand gripped your arm to keep you from losing balance, and the flame still flickering around your hand went out.

Now only the low gloom of the torches several feet down the tunnel illuminated the darkness.

“There you are.”

You didn’t recognize that deep, almost rough voice, but your heart jumped in your throat at sight of the leathery wings and the black scaled armor adorned with seven crimson Siphons.

You already knew who you were facing when you looked up and met the wary gaze of the General of the Night Court armies, his face half-hidden in the dark.

“There I am?” you repeated, putting on a sweet smile that didn’t reflect your internal turmoil. “Were you looking for me, General?”

His eyes narrowed as he took in your bare feet and the heels you still held in your hand. “What are you doing down here?”

You couldn’t tell if he meant down here in the Hewn City or in the tunnels below the palace. What if he knew the truth? What if he knew who you were? It could have given you a way out, it could have—

But Cassian’s grip on your arm tightened at your silence. “Answer me,” he growled. “We know someone broke into the treasury. And I know it was you.”

You shivered at his tone, at the fear that began to settle inside you, knowing you had been caught. As you tried to find a way out, you heard the words coming out of your mouth as if they were someone else’s: feigned shock at the news, deep confusion at the accusation, refined politeness when you addressed him. Hopefully, it was enough to let you off the hook.

“Why, if I may ask, would you think that was me, General?”

He didn’t seem impressed by your display of innocence. “There are very few redheads in the Hewn City, and none with fire powers. You’re from Autumn.”

Well, shit. You were so used to seeing red-haired Fae in the Autumn Court that you hadn't considered how recognizable your hair—or your powers, for that matter—could be outside of your home.

“I…”

You didn’t know what to say. You had red hair. You were suspiciously wandering in the tunnels. You had broken into the treasury using your fire. How could you find an excuse for all of that?

Your hesitation was confirmation enough for the General. His grip on your arm became almost painful. “Who are you? What were you looking for in the treasury?”

Maybe telling him the truth would help. If you revealed that you were in the Hewn City because you had no other choice, that you were not only Beron’s secret daughter but also his spy, his undercover agent, would he believe you? And if he did, would that make things better or worse for you?

Again, you thought about it for too long.

Cassian’s eyes narrowed even more. “You’re coming with me,” he ordered, nudging you along. “And you will talk, one way or another.”

You didn’t like where this was going. You didn’t like it one bit.

You could burn him, you supposed. Use your fire on him to create a distraction and run away. But you knew what kind of pain it caused, and you couldn’t bring yourself to hurt someone that way, not even him. And even if you did, where could you run? You didn’t know the place, didn't know where the hallways led or where the hiding spots were. But Cassian did. You wouldn’t get far before he found you.

You let the General lead you even deeper into the dungeons, following him without a struggle, even as the cold air bit at your skin and your gut churned in fear.

After a few minutes, you were escorted inside a small cell. There was nothing but a wooden chair in the middle of the space, right next to a grate on the floor from which hisses and growls rose up. You decided you didn’t want to know what was on the other side.

Cassian took your shoes, placing them next to the door as he gestured for you to sit. You obeyed silently and took a seat, waiting for the handcuffs, for the restraint, for the questions to start.

None of it came.

You just sat there, the General watching you intently from his spot against the wall, his stance relaxed yet alert in case you tried something. He said not a word.

You weren’t sure how much time passed before the door opened again and another male walked in. He was Illyrian too, a sword similar to Cassian’s was strapped to his back, and he wore the same armor. But his Siphons were a shade of cobalt blue, his black hair cut short, and he was surrounded by swirling shadows.

Your breath caught at the sight of the Spymaster.

Azriel’s eyes widened ever so slightly as they settled on you, his shadows frozen around his shoulders. He stood there, wings tucked tightly in, staring at you as if he could see right through your façade.

“Where is Rhys?”

The Spymaster didn’t tear his gaze away from you even as he answered. “He couldn’t leave.” His voice, cold as ice, sent a shiver down your spine. “This is the intruder?”

You held your head up high, reigning in your emotions. You wouldn’t let him intimidate you. You refused to. No matter the stories you had heard about the feared Shadowsinger of the Night Court, you wouldn’t cower. Not before him. You had suffered enough at the hands of your father to know how to deal with fear and pain.

“I found her wandering in the tunnels,” Cassian answered. “Not far from the treasury, hand wreathed in flames. She refused to say anything.”

The Spymaster assessed you, hazel eyes scanning you from head to toe. “Well, that’s about to change.” His hand lingered dangerously close to the black-hilted knife strapped to his muscular thigh.

Your brother's words echoed in your mind. “Tell him what he wants to hear.” “If you fight him, you'll only make it worse.” “Think of something nice, hold on to it, and it'll be over soon enough.” “Behave like the pliant little female he expects you to be.”

If Eris's precious advice had always worked with your father and his particular inclination for painful punishments, then maybe it would work now as well.

Azriel's gaze didn't falter as he stalked toward you, the dagger now clutched in his scarred fingers. You could have sworn his hand trembled for just a split second as he unsheathed it, but you were already looking down at your bare feet, letting your shoulders slump forward and your stiff back relax into a more submissive position.

A pair of black boots stopped right in front of you. Your heart pounded in your chest, your hands holding the armrests so tightly that your knuckles went white. The scent of night-chilled mist and cedar filled your nose as cold metal pressed just under your chin, urging you to lift your head.

You didn't fight it, meeting a pair of honeyed eyes that stared at you coolly. So close, you could see the tiny speck of green in them, even with his dilated pupils.

Cauldron, this male was beautiful. Painfully so. Bigger issues begged for your attention, but you couldn't help but admire him—the sharp features of his face, the perfect lines of his jaw, the plush lips, the way a few black curls hung over his forehead.

You didn't dare shift your position, but the urge to clench your thighs was almost overwhelming. The most inappropriate time ever.

Azriel seemed to somehow sense it, because his nostrils flared and the tip of the knife pressed a bit more under your chin, though still not enough to draw blood.

“What are you doing here?”

That voice, like silk and shadows and ice. Now you could understand why everyone feared the Shadowsinger of the Night Court.

“Why were you in the treasury?” he pressed, more demanding than before.

When you didn't answer his questions, he removed the dagger and took a step back. You glanced at the General, still standing by the door, but your focus quickly returned to the Spymaster, who had begun to circle around your chair.

Like a beast about to strike, toying with its prey before the killing blow.

“You know, this would be easier if you talked willingly.”

Shadows wrapped around both your ankles and wrists to prevent any possible movement. He was behind you now, his dagger trailing down your arm, sending all your senses on high alert.

“Or I'll have to resort to more… unpleasant methods.”

Your bindings tightened as if to prove his point and a small gasp escaped your lips. You had to say something, come up with some kind of excuse before it was too late.

“Tell him what he wants to hear.”

What did he want to hear? You couldn't very well give up the truth, could you? But maybe if you did, maybe if you tried…

Your eyes shot to the General. He was studying you with his arms crossed, nothing but distaste etched on his features.

Azriel, now on your left, noticed the direction of your gaze. He watched the other Illyrian for a few heartbeats before speaking in that low, quiet voice of his. “You know I work better when I'm alone.”

You stilled at the words. You, alone in a dungeon cell with the Spymaster? This changed everything—reshuffling all the cards, altering the odds of how this interrogation might end.

Cassian blinked, turning to face him. The two males stared at each other for what felt like ages, a silent conversation passing between them. Eventually, the General sighed.

“Fine,” he grumbled, fingers raking through his dark hair. “But alert Rhys immediately if something happens.”

The Shadowsinger seemed to hold back a scoff. “I know what I'm doing, Cassian,” he replied coolly. “I always get the information I want.”

You swallowed harshly, but Cassian gave a sharp nod and sauntered out of the cell.

As soon as the door closed behind him and his footsteps faded down the hallways, Azriel crouched in front of you, the dagger sheathed at his thigh once more. The shadows restraining you vanished.

“What the hell are you doing here, my love?”

~~~~~~

You and Azriel had met four years prior.

When you were born—the youngest and only female in a clutch of seven brothers—your father decided to keep you in the shadows. He never publicly acknowledged having a daughter, believing that no one would suspect a girl, thus raising you to serve as his undercover agent. Only your family knew of your existence, and if you hadn't gone mad over the years of confinement, it was only thanks to your sweet mother and Eris.

Beron had spent almost a century training you, molding you into his perfect little spy, and then sent you out into the world for just as long to do exactly what he had taught you.

You were attending a ball in the Day Court the first time you saw Azriel. You had already gathered the intel your father wanted about the honored guests from the Dawn Court, but you had no intention of going home earlier than scheduled. You still had until morning. And when the most beautiful male you had ever seen walked into the room as part of the Night Court delegation, you knew exactly how you wanted to spend your remaining time.

You watched him, taking in his muscular body, the massive wings, and the swirling shadows, until his eyes finally found yours through the crowd. You offered him a gentle yet unwavering smile, and your core clenched at the way he studied you as you approached him. Like he was already imagining pinning you beneath him.

It didn't take long for him to do just that. Within minutes, you found yourself in the room he was staying in, your dress discarded on the floor and his head between your thighs.

You had never felt so good as you did in those few hours.

It was almost dawn by the time you were both spent and sweaty, but you fought against exhaustion. You waited for Azriel to fall asleep, and then you slipped out of the room.

He woke up to an empty bed.

The next time you met him was a few months later. The High Lords and High Lady were all meeting in the Winter Court to discuss Prythian’s situation after the war with Hybern, but your father was paranoid. He ordered you to ensure the other courts weren’t plotting a coup against him.

You had just sneaked out of the suite reserved for the High Lord of the Summer Court and his entourage when shadows pooled at your feet, and your back was slammed against the wall. The air was snatched from your lungs at the impact, leaving you little time to take another breath before a dark dagger pressed against your throat.

Despite having spent just one night together, you immediately recognized your assailant by his scent alone.

“Didn't know you were into this kind of thing,” you drawled, looking up to meet Azriel's gaze. “Kinky. I like it.”

His eyes widened slightly as recognition dawned on him, the blade moving an inch away from your neck but no more. “It's you.”

You knew you should be bothered by the dagger, that this was a powerful male not to be trifled with, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when you could still remember how his lips tasted and how good he felt inside you.

“Strange way to meet again, uh?”

Azriel didn't return your smirk, nor did he step away. Instead, his voice was cold as death now that his surprise had faded. “Why are you sneaking into the suites?”

You had mastered the art of weaving lies so long ago that the answer flowed effortlessly from your lips.

“Cresseida was wearing a beautiful necklace at lunch,” you replied with a shrug. “I wanted to see if she left it in her room.”

His eyes narrowed. “So, you're a petty thief?”

Better than the truth, you thought, though a small part of you longed to confide in him, to tell him everything. A deep, innate feeling of trust had somehow bloomed in your chest. You ignored it.

“I'm a simple girl.” You offered him your most charming smile. “I see a shining jewel, and I want it for myself.”

Azriel hummed, knife still at your throat. His eyes scanned your face and you felt like he could see everything you were trying to conceal, all the secrets you'd kept locked away for years.

“You went through the suites of every Court except Autumn,” he mused, the tip of the blade tracing your jaw. You went utterly still. “Why?”

You didn't know how to answer. You didn't even know how he knew that. You'd been caught red-handed, and you had a feeling that any new lie you concocted would be pointless. So you decided to trust your gut.

“Alright.” You took a deep breath—or as deep as you dared with a sharp dagger pressed against your neck. “I work for Beron. He thinks someone might stage a coup, so he sent me to gather information.”

His eyes, which had been roaming over your features and perhaps lingered a second too long on your lips—though that could just be your imagination—snapped up to meet yours. The blade pressed a fraction harder against your skin, a clear sign of his distrust.

“For Beron?” he repeated. Not a hint of surprise or disdain marked his tone, just that icy coldness, so different from the warm voice he'd used to talk you through it in the Summer Court. “And he fears a coup?”

You wanted to sigh but didn't dare. If only he would sheath that damn dagger…

“Yes, that's what I said. And honestly, if someone does, I'm not surprised. I hope it works out for them.”

Azriel's brow arched.

“I mean, the male's horrible. He deserves it.”

You were aware of the dangerous line you were crossing, speaking of your father—your High Lord—like that to an important member of a rival court. You'd never voiced those thoughts aloud to anyone but Eris, and yet here you were. Beron would punish you if he found out. You were first his subject, then his spy, and only then his daughter.

A scarred hand cupped your jaw, Azriel's face now only inches from yours. You could feel his warm breath on your cheeks. “Why do you work for him, then?” he snarled.

His grip on your chin made it impossible to look away, forcing you to meet his golden eyes. In that moment, you let him see your truth, the honesty and vulnerability you never revealed.

“Because I don't have a choice.”

A heartbeat passed, and then his expression softened. You stilled as his hand moved from your jaw to your cheek.

You had seen his scars months ago and immediately recognized what had caused them. Cauldron knew you always kept yours hidden with a glamor, allowing it to dissipate only in the privacy of your bedroom.

Thinking about all your father had put you through made the reality of the situation slam into you. What if Azriel told your father what you had just said? The Night Court and the Autumn Court were not on good terms, but who knew what political machinations were at play behind closed doors. Beron would consider your words a betrayal and punish you accordingly.

Your worry must have shown on your face because Azriel's thumb brushed over your cheekbone, gentle and reassuring. “Your secret's safe with me,” he said softly. He studied you for a moment, and whatever he saw in your expression seemed to convince him to finally put his dagger back into its scabbard at his thigh.

You took a deep, shaky breath, unsure whether it stemmed from believing him or simply from relief at no longer being threatened.

Now free, his fingers brushed over your throat where his blade had been. There probably was a thin pink line there. His featherlight touch sent shivers down your spine.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured.

Your voice was barely a whisper. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

You stared at each other, time seeming to slow down. His shadows peeked from behind his broad shoulders, a few tendrils swirling forward and weaving through your red locks, but your gaze locked on his, your heartbeat quickening. His other hand still cradled your cheek.

“I'm sorry,” you murmured.

“What for?”

‘For lying to you.’

‘For sneaking into your Court’s suite.’

‘Because I can't tell you the whole truth.’

So many easy replies, and all of them true. But one in particular pushed at the corner of your mind, one you hadn't been able to shake for months.

“For walking away right after you fell asleep.”

Something flashed in his eyes, there and gone in an instant, but you didn't recognize what it was. You didn't know him well enough to read every subtle change in his expression. Part of you wished you could.

You waited for him to say something—either to tell you he didn't care or that it wasn't a big deal—but as his silence stretched on, you debated whether you should change the subject or perhaps apologize for bringing it up.

Just as you opened your mouth, Azriel spoke again, but his words were not what you had expected.

“I looked for you the day after,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “But you were gone.”

You couldn't help but stare, so caught off guard that you were completely speechless. You had thought about him often since that night, but you never imagined he might have looked for you in the morning. You were torn between feeling even worse about leaving him and the rapid beat of your heart.

A grin curled your lips as you rested your hands on his chest. Even with his armor on, you could recall the lines of the tattoos swirling across his golden skin, a sliver of black ink peeking from his collar. “I was that good?” you teased.

Azriel chuckled under his breath, the sound like a song to your ears. “You were that good.” He leaned in, his mouth brushing against your ear, teeth grazing your earlobe. “You felt that good wrapped around me.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and you could feel his hard length pressing against your thigh, igniting a desire that made you want to moan.

“Do you want to do it again?”

He barely gave you time to finish that sentence before his lips claimed yours, eliciting a surprised whimper. Your fingers tangled in his curls, his hands cupped your face, and there was nothing sweet or gentle about the kiss as his body pressed yours against the wall and you began to grind on him.

You parted only to catch your breath, but Azriel was already nipping at your neck, and you tilted your head to grant him more access.

When distant footsteps echoed from a nearby hallway, he didn’t even pull away as shadows wrapped around you both. In an instant, they winnowed you into a bedroom you didn't bother to register, too busy pushing Azriel on the large bed and climbing on top of him.

After that time, you began to plan your meetings. It was often a real challenge to find a moment when both of you could slip away from your duties without raising suspicions, but you couldn't risk your families discovering that you were regularly sleeping with a spy from a rival court.

Then, somewhere along the way, it happened. Sex slowly transformed into making love as you both developed feelings for one another, and around one year later, the mating bond snapped into place. You wanted to accept it, but you couldn't shake the dark cloud looming over your head. It was then that you decided to tell Azriel the truth about who you were, who your father was. He was gone for twenty days after your revelation, and you were left wondering whether it was because you had kept it hidden from him for so long or if he truly had a tight schedule and couldn't make time for a secret rendezvous. But when he finally returned, he assured you that whoever your father was wouldn't change or diminish his love for you. That very night, you offered him food, relief washing over you like a balm.

~~~~~~

And here you were, three years and countless secret meetings later.

“What are you doing here?” Azriel repeated, his voice carrying the usual softness he used when speaking to you, but with an edge of nervousness and impatience.

“My father sent me to retrieve the Veritas Orb,” you explained with a sigh. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't want you to have to lie to your family even more. And… I thought I could do this alone.”

Azriel fell silent, his back stiff, his posture rigid. The shadows had retreated behind his wings. Finally, he asked, “What does he need it for?”

You gave him an apologetic look. “He didn't bother to share that information.”

He nodded, as if he had expected that answer. Rising to his feet, he offered you a hand to help you up from your seat. You took it, his skin cold against your palm, and stood with a frown.

“What do we do now?” you whispered, anxious despite Cassian’s absence. “I didn't mean to bring you into this mess, love.”

Azriel let go of your hand to cup your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Don't apologize. I know he didn't give you a choice.” He pressed his soft lips to your forehead. “But I can't let you walk out, angel. We need some excuse.”

Right, because letting you leave unscathed and without any information would only get him in trouble with his High Lord. But leaving without the Orb would get you in trouble. And yet, you would rather endure whatever punishment your father would concoct than let your mate deal with the consequences of your reckless actions.

You stepped back, out of the warmth provided by his body. You had a plan, one you knew he wouldn’t like, but it seemed like the only solution to get you both out of this mess with minimal repercussions. Well, for him at least. You doubted Beron would take pity and turn a blind eye to your failure, but it was worth a shot.

“I need you to hurt me.”

His eyes widened, but you went on before he could object. “You can tell Rhysand I was acting alone, that you made sure I won't be a problem anymore, and I’ll go back to Autumn and tell my father I was caught and tortured. But I need you to hurt me and I need you to make it look believable.”

Azriel was gaping. You had never seen him like this before. You knew how your idea sounded, but you needed him to understand the criticality of the situation and agree to it.

“Az, I—”

“No.”

You blinked. “No?”

Something ticked in his jaw, a subtle clench of his muscle. “No,” he repeated, voice firm and unyielding. “I'm not hurting you, love. You can't just ask me to do that. I won't. I can't.”

You studied him for a moment, but you knew he wasn't going to change his mind.

“Fine,” you sighed, extending a hand toward him, palm up. “Then give me Truth-Teller.”

He frowned, and the shadows swirled around him nervously, as if sensing the direction this conversation was taking. “And why would I do that?”

“You won't hurt me, so I'll do it myself,” you replied, as if the answer was obvious.

His eyes widened. “Y/N—”

“Just a few cuts here and there,” you assured him. “Nothing too bad. But my father has to believe it's real.”

Once again, Azriel stared at you, pale as if he had just seen a ghost. “You can't be serious.”

“You have a better idea?” you retorted. Without waiting for his answer, you reached for the dagger at his thigh. The sooner you could get this over with, the better.

Azriel easily sidestepped you, grabbing both your wrists to prevent you from trying to take his knife again. “I'm not letting you hurt yourself either,” he stated. His grip on you was gentle, but his tone was cold. It was the kind of tone that told you he wouldn't take no for an answer.

But neither would you.

“We don't have a choice, Az,” you countered, your voice steady despite the rising tension. Yet you didn't try to free your hands.

Something shifted in his eyes, in his expression. His thumbs brushed over your wrists in soothing motions, and a pleading note entered his voice when he spoke again. “I can't stand to see you hurt, my love. I don't care about the reason.”

For a few seconds, you just stared into each other's eyes. You were still tense and rigid, and fear coiled in your gut at the thought of going back and facing your father. But Azriel's gaze was soft, scarred fingers never ceasing their gentle caresses. In that moment, you realized that he would rather tell his family the truth than let you go back home battered.

And then it hit you. Though you loved the Autumn Court, it wasn't your home. No, your home was Azriel. He had been for years now. Your safe place, the person you could always count on, the one who knew you better than anyone else. Your mate.

“He won't let me leave,” you whispered, and you hated how weak and vulnerable you sounded.

“You're already here.” Azriel lifted your hands to his mouth and pressed a warm kiss on each palm. “You don't need to leave. You just need to stay.”

You shook your head, tears rising to your eyes. “He sent me here. He knows where I am, and he'll come looking or send someone to find me, or—”

“We'll deal with him,” he interrupted you. “But you'll be safe here. I promise.”

You couldn't hold back the tears, then. He sounded so sure, as if it could ever be that simple. As if you could just make the choice to stay and never go back. You wished you could. With all your heart, you wished it could be as simple as that.

“Az, I… I can't,” you murmured, voice trembling.

He let go of your wrists to cup your cheeks, wiping away your tears. “I will protect you,” he reassured softly. “My whole family will, once they know the truth. You will be safe in the Night Court. And if not, then… then we'll go somewhere else, somewhere far away where Beron won't find us.”

We. Us.

For how long had you wished to hear those words? Even after you two had met, you had never truly been a couple. You had stolen moments whenever you could, but it was always you and him—your duties and his. Never a ‘we’, never an ‘us’.

“Stay.”

You closed your eyes, unable to hold his pleading gaze any longer.

“Stay in the Night Court.”

You swallowed, the weight of the decision heavy on your shoulders as if it were a physical burden. “Az…”

“Stay with me.” His voice broke, vulnerability spilling into every word. “Please.”

What if it were that easy? What if you could make the decision and simply not go back to the Autumn Court? What if you could spend every day and every night with the person you loved with all your heart, with your mate, and not having to hide, to carefully plan every meeting, to weave lie after lie to everyone around you?

When you opened your eyes, Azriel was staring at you. He was still brushing away your tears, but even through their veil, you could see how beautiful he was. How desperate. How broken.

And you nodded.

“Okay,” you whispered.

His eyes immediately lit up. “Okay?”

“Yes,” you confirmed despite the quiver in your voice. “Yes, I'm… I’m staying. With you.”

You barely had time to finish the sentence before he pulled you into his arms, your face pressed against his chest as he held you tight. You let yourself go, surrendering to the tears and the sobs shaking your body, clutching his leathers to keep your hands from trembling.

“Thank you,” he murmured against your hair, over and over. “Thank you, my love. Thank you.”

You didn't know how long you just stood there. Minutes, hours, days—it didn't matter. You were together now, and you would always be from this moment on. You were home, and never again would you suffer at the hands of your father.

His shadows swarmed around you, caressing your back and arms, twisting in your hair as if they, too, were excited about what would happen next. You didn't know. For the first time in your life, the future was bright, and happiness was within your grasp.

You pulled back only when your tears ran dry. Azriel pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead, and you both smiled, brightly and lovingly, knowing you would not leave each other again.

“Let's get you out of here,” he said eventually, taking your hand and intertwining your fingers. “There's so much to do.”

Like meeting his family. Revealing your identity, who you were and what you did, and hoping they would understand and not hold it against you.

As Azriel stepped back to turn toward the door, you hesitated.

“Can you promise me something?” you asked, your voice quiet and still a bit hoarse from crying.

He stopped, worried eyes immediately searching your face for any sign of discomfort or concern. “Of course, love. Anything you want.”

“It's nothing too big, just…” You offered a small smile and squeezed his fingers. “No more secrets, Az.”

His hazel eyes softened, and his lips curled into a beautiful smile. He nodded, tugging gently on your hand to lead you out of the cell and into your new life. “No more secrets.”

2nd a/n: if the lines "Stay / Stay in the Night Court / Stay with me" reminded you of another very similar quote, you are correct. I had originally written "Stay in the Night Court. Just... stay with me" and it made me think of that quote, which is one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite books and said by one of my favorite characters ever, so I decided to include it (a little easter egg, if you will). Kaz and Azriel 🤝 simping for the girl they like

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

#azrielappreciationweek2024 #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel fic #sjm #sarah j maas #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #a court of thorns and roses #azriel fluff #azriel angst #fanfiction

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crows-of-buckets · 4 months ago

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Aviae argues with both Morrigan AND Alistair during broken circle btw. Alistair says something about it sometimes being a necessity and Aviae goes "of course the Templar would say that". Morrigan says the mages seem willing to roll over and die and Aviae angrily reminds her that she was one of those mages until very recently. Everyone is standing around awkwardly bc this is the first time both Morrigan AND Alistair have pissed her off at the same time. Morrigan gets put on mage sitter duty while Aviae goes up the tower and Alistair is on Thin Fucking Ice

I love how many arguments I know for a fact Aviae and Morrigan had. Some ocs I really struggle figuring out what they would bicker about but with those two it's more of what WOULDN'T they bicker about

#oc: aviae surana #crow rambles #ik alistair doesnt actually want the mages to die however he does have one line during the circle quest that i knowwwww #pissed aviae off soooo bad #shes not known for her calm demeanor #aviae and morrigan spend the next two weeks trading jabs at each other toxic yuri wins once again #tbh i think leliana and zev are the only two she can talk about the circle with without getting annoyed #wynnes defense of the circle pisses her off. morrgans dismissal of the circle mages plight pisses her off. the fact that alistair was almos #a templar pisses her off. she is very very touchy about mages lmao #alistair makes the very smart decision of keeping his mouth shut the rest of the time theyre there #my ocs

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surielstea · 9 months ago

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“Forgive me, Darling.”

Based on this request.

Pairing: Rhysand x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Rhys undermines Reader in front of the Hewn City, Reader makes him grovel before she accepts his apologies.

A. Note: This was really an excuse for me to write some Rhys smut… RhysandWeek got to me I fear, half of it is smut so enjoy 😼🙏

4.7k words

It was an effort to sit next to the High Lord tonight. Even with Winter Solstice so steadily approaching we couldn't stop being at each other's throats for the past week. The others in the Inner Circle were sick of our tedious bickering by now, and the rest of the Court might as well be too.

It was clear to the citizens of the Hewn City that we weren't getting along the best when we sat in our own separate thrones, while I typically opted to sit in Rhys' lap or he on the armrest while I took the main throne.

But it was the citizens of the Hewn City themselves that had cleaved our relationship right in two. While I was a natural sympathizer for these people, Rhys seemed to have half a thought about their well-being.

It drove me mad how easily he could cherish and love something, then turn around and loathe something else with the same fierceness. It was manipulative and vexing.

"Your grace," Keir drawled with a low bow and Rhys lifted a brow at Morrigan's poor excuse of a father.

"What is it?" The High Lord mused, the perfect mask of bored coldness in his violet eyes.

"The court was wondering if you'd be donating to the gift drive this season, all funds would go directly to the orphaned children of course," Keir said with a tone that sent shivers down my spine.

Rhys opened his mouth to say no, but I spoke first. "Of course Keir. We're not monsters," I say, tossing my mate a lethal glare.

"Are you mad? No," He looked to Keir. "I will not be donating, but you can tell them their queen will have a heavy chunk coming from her paycheck," Rhys bit back and the verbal assault immediately bruised her, tearing her down for speaking over him in a place like this was one thing but, in front of Keir? Using him as a device to get under my skin? It was a new level of low.

I bit back a snarl. "You're both insufferable," I stand. "And you bore me," I step down the dais with a careful queenlike elegance that came with only decades of practice. "I'm going home, perhaps finish some last-minute gift shopping," I shrug, my black gown shimmering like the stars in the sky with each move I made.

"I'll join you momentarily," Rhys said with a hand up as if to pause me. I didn't wait for him to finish before I winnowed back to Velaris, alone.

I was born in the Hewn City, and though I knew it was best if Rhys put on a mask in front of that court, it was hard to watch my mate who had one of the biggest hearts I'd ever seen be so cruel, be exactly what those citizens had expected him to be. A monster. A shiver went down my spine at the thought. It was a part of my role as High Lady to back whatever Rhys decided, but it was a part of his role to do the same with me. And when it came to the children of the Hewn City I drew the line, they had done no wrong, and half of them were too young to even realize that their king was a halfbreed, much less why that meant he was seen as lesser. They were innocent, doomed for failure since the beginning because of who their parents were. I sympathized with the orphans and knew exactly how much a donation would've mean to me because I used to be one of them.

Rhys winnowed into the sitting room, writhing shadows feathering off of his dark tunic as he whirled towards me, brows drawn.

"What'd you do that for?" He frowns at me and I mirror it.

"Children Rhys? Should I even dare ask when it might end?" I prop my hands up on his hips and he sighs, rubbing at his eyes.

"You know how I handle those things, I tell Keir no and then donate anonymously," He explained, annunciating every word like I was hard of hearing. The tone set me off. He was right, that's how we did it every year for solstice since Rhys became High Lord.

But tonight was my breaking point after weeks of needless arguments. "Yes, Rhysand. I know." I grit my teeth and his frown deepens as he hears me use his full name, something I always did unconsciously when I wanted him out of my face.

"Then why did you say we'd donate?" He lifts a brow and my shoulders are practically up to my ears with the tension building.

"Because, Rhysand, I'm so sick of you pretending to be someone that you're not," Again, the name makes him flinch. "I know how much you're capable of loving, and I understand you trying to protect us but I can't bear seeing you so ruthless to those people," I explain and he lets out a long sigh.

"You don't seem to understand the impossible situation I'm in." He closes his eyes, needing to rest them if only for a moment.

"What don't I understand?" I grab his jacket, gently gripping it as I stare up at him. "I've been beside you every step of the way, talk to me Rhysand. Or this isn't going to work," I gesture between us and his back shoots ramrod straight, at the underlying threat of taking a break from each other. He loathed the idea, and would rather argue for the rest of his life with me than not have me in his life at all.

"Don't say stuff like that," He murmured, his voice clipped like he couldn't quite breathe right.

"Then think twice before undermining me in front of a male like Keir," I scowl. "Hewn City or not, you're not allowed to silence me." I brush past him, my shoulder ramming into his bicep as I stalk down the hall to our bedroom, shutting the door with a resounding thud, but Rhys remains pinned in the same spot, cursing himself over and over again for his foolish behavior.

Over the next few days, Rhys had done everything in his power to apologize. Giving me countless gifts, and heartfelt monologues about how sorry he was, he even donated a good portion of his gold to the Hewn City orphanage. But I didn't forgive him, because I was certain he had yet to understand how much this truly meant to me. Besides, a small part of me liked watching him grovel.

At dinner with the rest of the inner circle later that evening, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Rhys had reached for my hand beneath my table twice now and I shook him off both times. We had both silently agreed on pretending everything was normal between us in front of the others, not wanting to worry them about the health of their high lady and lord relationship. So I put on a mask, as he often did, and pretended everything was fine.

"I'll see you in a few days for solstice eve," I hum as Morrigan gives me a hug while standing halfway out the door in the cold.

"I got you an amazing gift!" She beamed while backing away and I gave her an incredulous look. There was no arguing that Morrigans gifts weren't unique and personalized, but they were far from amazing.

"I'm sure you did," I hum. "Goodnight, Mor," I lean against the archway of the foyer and she gives me a wave before slipping out the door. Once everyone was officially gone I turned back to the sitting room where Rhys was sitting, staring at me curiously like I was a thing to be analyzed. "What?" I bark, my smile dropping.

"You keep calling me Rhysand," He stands from his seat, looking at me with furrowed brows, his wings drooping slightly, nearly dragging on the floor as he strides towards me but stops an arm's length away.

"That's your name, is it not? Or would you like to argue about that as well?" I arch a brow and his frown deepens.

"No, I just— It's Rhys. It's always been Rhys between us, in fact, you're the reason everyone calls me Rhys." He claims and I cross my arms over my chest, narrowing my gaze on him.

"This is what has been bothering you? This? Out of everything that has been going on, me saying your full name has gotten under your skin the most?" I scowl, unbelieving of his childish behavior.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, defeated.

"I know," I state.

"Then why?" His voice wavers. "Why can't I be forgiven?" He takes another step forward, nearly closing the distance between us if it weren't for his height.

"Because I don't think you've learned your lesson yet." I snarl and his brows crease, his familiar violet eyes glazing over.

"No please, I have darling," He cups my cheeks in his hands. "I have. I'm sorry." His hands were so gentle when holding my face as if I might break if he was any rougher.

I debated giving in for a moment, if only because my desire to feel his lips on mine again would be comparable to heaven— but I stayed strong, my own pride willing me to break away from his touch. "I know," I repeat, before walking down the hall and into our bedroom, closing the door behind me loud enough for him to get the hint that I didn't want to see him again that night.

A few days had passed and it was solstice eve, I was in the midst of getting ready for bed when there was a soft knock on my door. I didn't turn when the door opened, I knew who it was before he was even down the hall.

Rhys doesn't say anything, just stares as I take out my earrings and unlace my dress. I didn't mind him looking as I stripped down and changed into a soft, midnight blue nightgown, perhaps I was rubbing in the fact that he couldn't have me. Once I was finished I walked over to my vanity and began to comb through my hair.

"I can feel you staring, Rhysand." I finally spoke and I swore he growled at the name. I ignore it. He pushes off the doorframe and enters the room.

"What can I do it make it better?" I turn towards him to find him directly behind me, looking down at me with beseeching eyes. "I'm begging you," He whispers, our proximity so close that his nose was brushing against mine.

"You're begging me?" I raise a brow.

"Gods, yes darling. Do you want me to get on my knees and plead?" He suggests and I just stare at him as a reply, waiting.

His brows raise a fraction when he realizes I'm serious, and I cross my arms impatiently. It takes him a moment, but eventually, he drops down onto his knees.

His hands come to my hips and he looks up at me, his chin propped up on my stomach as he lets out a soft, "Please."

"Please what?" I place my hands on his shoulders, one of them finding its way into his dark, midnight-black hair.

"Please, forgive me." He murmurs. "Please, don't make us take a break." He continues, his hands on my hips tightening slightly. "And please, let me love you the way you deserve."

He had once told me he'd only ever fall to his knees for his crown, yet here he was, bending for me with only sincere affection in his eyes and regret forever making me feel like he deserved this.

I grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him up, crashing his lips onto mine. I kiss him, deeply, with the passion and desire that had been building up for the past week. I had forgotten how addictive he was and didn't realize how badly I needed him until he leaned into the kiss and filled the gaping void inside of me with warmth.

"I missed you so damned much, darling," He sighs and I smirk against his lips.

"Yeah?" I slip from his grasp and take a seat on the bed. "Why don't you come over here and show me?" I purr, letting my legs fall open as he prowls towards me and again, gets down onto his knees.

I smile devilishly at him as he begins kissing and nipping at my thighs, beginning to make amends with his mouth rather than words.

His covetous hands slip beneath my short nightgown, gripping my hips and pulling me to the edge of the bed. I lay back onto my elbows, propped up enough to watch him as he made his way up my thighs.

Ever so gently, he pulls at my undergarments and I lift my hips for access so he can further slip the panties down my legs. With reverence his eyes flick down to my glistening core, then back up to my eyes, his gaze holding a certain emotion I don't think I've ever seen the High Lord hone before.

I nod my head and he wastes no time before placing an open mouth kiss to my folds, then dragging it through my slit in a slow, savoring lap. I let out a soft moan at the feeling of his warm tongue finding my clit with a languid stroke. My fingers weave into his hair as he begins to suck on the bundle of nerves, sending me into a spiral.

I looked down at him but he was already staring up at me. But once he sees my lustful expression he can't seem to control himself before he dips down and spears his tongue into me. I release a breathy moan at the intense feeling. How could I have ever robbed myself of this for so long? Gods it was evil the things he could do with that mouth.

His fingers dug into the flesh of my hips as he devoured me like a man starved, his tongue-twisting and curling against a sensitive spot that sent me closer to the edge. I was unable to stop myself from grinding up onto his face, and he let out a guttural groan as I did so, because he knew then that I wanted him, that he was making me feel this good.

I maintained eye contact with him as he continued to drive me wild, violet irises filled with both apologies as well as desire. He draws one of my legs over his shoulder to deepen his access and I pull at his hair.

"That's it, gods yes," I gripe as his tongue toys with the sensitive area nestled deep inside of me.

My head falls back to look up at the ceiling as he brings one of his hands down and his thumb begins to roll over my clit. I whimper at the stimulation, my toes curling as he begins rubbing tight circles. I buck my hips at the intense feeling and he groans against the feeling of me tugging on his hair, the sound reverberating up my spine. "That's my girl," He purrs as my release steadily approaches. "Come on my face, fall apart for me my darling," He says, his voice tender as he coaxes your climax to draw closer.

I couldn't deny his demand, my pleasure too high to even debate it. My peak reaches and with a cry, my body convulses and an intense wave of pleasure crashes through me. He supports me, his arms around my thighs grounding me, his eyes never leaving mine as he removes his tongue from my entrance and softly laps up my dripping folds, his mouth shimmering in my essence. But it was only pride in his eyes as I came down from my high that I recognized, pride and, something far more primal than human.

"I forgot how good you taste," He whispers against my core, cleaning every lost drop from me with his mouth.

Slowly, he backed away, licking his lips that were glistening in my arousal.

"I want to ride you," I confess and his brows shoot up with carnal desire. Yes, that was exactly what I wanted.

I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down onto the bed, his head falling into the pillows as I flipped over him and began working at the buttons of his shirt.

His hands joined mine, helping me by thrashing it off. I smile and attach my lips to his tanned skin, my tongue running over the lines of his tattoo while he frees himself from the confines of his pants. My mouth waters at the sight of his hard cock already leaking with need. I bite at my lower lip as I grip his length, spreading his pre and using it as a natural lubricant. I pumped him once, then twice. My grip was rough and tight, his head fell back into the pillows as he groaned in pleasure.

"Oh, my darling," He sighs out as I press my thumb to his sensitive tip.

His hands come to my thighs as I lift onto my knees and begin dragging his cock through my folds, prepping him for an easy entrance. I swore he got harder the moment my arousal met his.

He looked back at me, his eyes low-lidded. "You look like a goddess," He breathes, his voice husky with restraint. I knew he wanted to push me down onto him, to take dominance and flip me onto my back. But he reigned in his control and kept himself at bay for now.

I smile devilishly at him as I aligned his throbbing cock with my entrance. His eyes flicked down to the view and I froze. "Look at me," I direct and his violet eyes flick back up to my gaze, and I watch his expression as I sink myself down to him so very slowly, inch by inch.

His face contorts into a mix of pleasure and agony. "This is torture," He hisses, his fingers digging into my thighs in an effort to keep restraint. "Please, darling," He whispered the plea and I couldn't help but fold under his yearning gaze.

"Please what?" I say through a soft moan, the stretch of him painful at first yet turned into pure pleasure moments later.

"Please, take all of me and move, now baby," He pants out and I smirk.

"I'm barely halfway down and I've got you this worked up?" I tilt my head demeaningly and he lets out a low, guttural growl.

"You know exactly what you're doing to me, so please, you can take it," He begs and I smile.

"I know I can, but can you?" I murmur, tracing lines along his torso, following his dark tattoo.

"Oh I can," He sighs, his eyes glinting with amusement and I realize he wasn't strained from needing more, he was in agony because his control was thinning. "But if you don't take all of me right now, I'm going to flip us over and fuck you until we both forget our own names." He warns and I smirk, leaning forward— in doing so making him slip deeper inside of me, the new angle eliciting a soft moan from me.

"Is that right?" I purr, my nails trailing down the side of his neck.

"Last chance, baby." His jaw feathers. "Sit down or I'm taking over," He snarls, gripping my hips tighter, prepared to make true of his threat. I smile, leaning closer and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

I do as he says anyway, not wanting to take any chances. I let gravity make my last movement and allow myself to take all of his length, every last inch until he was fully sheathed inside of me and I was seated on him fully.

He lets out a long, deep moan, his head falling back into the pillows. "Gods, such a good girl," He praises, taking a few deep breaths and regaining his control.

Slowly I begin to rock my hips back and forth over him and he jerks at the movement, his hands tightening on my thighs as he begins to guide me over him, showing me exactly how fast he wanted me to go.

He lets out a string of curses as I set a pace, rolling and grinding over him, my thighs already burning with the movements. "Keep your eyes on me, yeah?" he says and I nod, as he slowly lifts me up on him, then pushes me back down, sending me into a rhythm. I began to bounce up and down on him, his thick length burrowing deep inside of me with each descent.

I keep eye contact with him, tears welling in mine as he lifts me faster, my breasts bouncing with the movement, and his captivating eyes don't miss it. "So beautiful," He whispers softly, his voice hoarse and strained as a string of moans escapes me.

"You like that baby?" He purrs, his gaze only sultry. I reply with a moan and a wicked smile forms over his lips as he pushes me to go faster, slamming me down into his hips, his tip brushing over my cervix.

He was enjoying this far too much, he was savoring the way I sounded, the way my body reacted. So desperate for a second release. I lean down, changing the angle and allowing him to hit my most sensitive point with the thick head of his cock.

"Gods, you feel so good wrapped around me like this," He purrs, his breath hot against my neck as his canines scrape against it.

I continue to fuck myself on him, my vision blurring as he abuses that sacred spot inside of me. "I'm close," I grunt, clenching my hands into fists as he spears into me, lifting his hips to help me reach that high.

"Yeah? Going to come, love?" He purrs into the shell of my ear and I nod, tears now slipping down my cheeks despite all my efforts to be in control.

"Yes, I can't control it much longer," I mewl, burying my nose into the crook of his neck.

He smiles, wrapping his arms around me. "That's okay, come for me darling," He allows and I find release, I finally meet my second orgasm.

"Rhys," I moan loud enough for the next room over to hear. Not Rhysand, but Rhys. The male's length twitches at the sound he so desperately had been needing to hear for the past week.

He didn't let me come down from my high for even a moment as he flipped me over onto my back, taking full control as he guided my legs up to my sides, folding me into a mating press.

"I'm not done with you yet, darling," He drawls huskily and my heart pounds against my ribs hard.

He pulls out to his tip and for a moment I'm gifted a kernel of relief, but it quickly ended when he pushed into me, spearing hilt deep as his heavy balls slapped into my ass. Arousal dripped down my thighs as he continued the movement and I turned into a moaning mess.

"You're so tight," He grunted out between thrusts. "Say my name again," He orders and I open my teary eyes to see him above me, his dark wings spread over us. Gods, he looked like a fucking devil like this. "Rhys," I plea and he smiles wolfishly.

"That's my girl, taking me so well," He praises, continuing to piston inside my puffy, overstimulated cunt.

He reaches down and I swear my heart stops as he makes contact with my pink clit. I whimper, my bottom lip wobbling as he pushes me towards yet another orgasm. "Come on baby, squeeze my cock," He demands and I writhe beneath him, clenching every inch of his length as he brushes my cervix repeatedly. His words and groans are a constant stream of encouragement as I hurtle toward my third orgasm.

I let out a loud, broken cry as my climax rips through me, each one more intense than the last. "Please, please tell me you're close," I beg as he lets out a choked groan, his movements becoming more and more erratic as control slips from his grasp. "Fuck, I am baby, I'm close," He pants out and I mewl his name desperately.

"Rhys, Rhys," I murmur like a chant, my mind too fucked out to think of anything else, just him.

"Look at me, I want you to watch while I come inside of you." He purred and my stomach twisted at his filthy words. My hands come around to his shoulders and I dig my nails into the muscle, clawing them down his back at the intense, unrelenting thrusting.

With a feral, desperate groan he buries his nose into my neck and finds his release, his warm seed spilling inside of me. He shakes and trembles at the weight of his climax, he collapses down onto me, his body heavy and spent. His face was still buried in my neck as he regained his breath. "Fuck, I love you so much," He confesses as the sounds of our breathing fill the room.

"I love you, too," I whisper hoarsely, my voice shot from screaming his name. He nuzzles into my neck, placing gentle kisses along my collarbone slowly guiding my legs down and pulling from my entrance. "I'm sorry baby, I know you wanted to be in control but I— I can't help myself around you," He murmurs and I smile, pulling him into me for a loving kiss.

"Don't apologize, felt so good," I murmur tiredly. "Maybe we should argue more often," I add and he frowns at the idea and I giggle. "I missed you."

His eyes light up with pure adoration. "I missed you too," He hums, easing into the bed beside me and gathering me into his arms. "Now let's get you cleaned up."

The rush of solstice has passed and everything has returned to normal— well, almost everything.

The Court of Nightmares was teeming with its usual negative energy, the air thick with it. I had been seated in my own throne again, not quite ready to take up Rhysand’s lap in front of all the subjects again.

“My Lord,” Keir bowed low before the dais, then turned to me and gave me a simple bow of his head. Rhys gripped the arms of his throne at the action but remained calm all the same.

“What?” The high lord snarled.

“The price of the renovations of the homes in the slums are steadily increasing, to something far greater than what we can afford with the money you’ve so graciously given.” He hums and I sit up. I grew up in the slums, I would’ve taken a man’s life for the opportunity to proceed with the renovation plans I had given Rhys a few days ago, would’ve taken a lot more than a life to give to that community, actually.

“Then we’ll triple the funds,” I state and Keir casts me a glance, then looks back to Rhys. I wanted to rip his face off. I was seated on a throne before his people, I had the power to tear this entire court down and yet he treats me with such disrespect and contempt.

“Why are you still here?” Rhys asked the steward. “My High Lady has just answered your issue, did she not?” Rhys tilts his head with creased brows.

“Of course, my lord,” Keir bows to the male, and something in his spine locks and I know, know that Rhys’s talons had captured Keirs mind and was prepared to shatter it, until Keir turned to me and bowed at the waist, then lower, nearly falling to his knees.

“Dismissed.” Rhys hummed, waving his hand and releasing the males mind.

I smile as I watch him leave, and settled a little deeper into my throne. Oh, I liked this a little too much.

A flicker of Rhysand’s darkness curled caressed up my neck, to trace the contours of my jaw. I turn to look at him and give him a wicked smile, he mirrors it and we turn back to the Nightmare of a court we ruled over, together.

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suuuupernovaaa · 10 months ago

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The Book Seller - Azriel x F!OC (Part 1/3)

Summary: Azriel meets his mate at long last, thanks to Nesta’s reading habits.

Content Warnings: None

Part 2, Part 3

The package arrived just before closing on a Saturday, hours after one of my favorite customers, The High Lady’s sister, had been in to check on it. Three books I’d recommended to her, an ancient romance between warrior and queen.

She had been waiting for weeks for these to arrive, and now she’d have to wait two more days. I sighed, thinking of the excitement that shone in Nesta’s eyes when she’d entered my bookshop earlier that day, and set them under the desk to wait safely for her.

The bell dinged and I looked up to see a tall blonde dressed in red. Her face looked familiar, but I’d never seen her before, I thought.

“Hello!” she greeted.

“Good evening,” I nodded with a smile.

Instead of browsing, she approached my desk. “Nesta sent me to check on her books. I’m Mor.”

My jaw fell a little slack at that. Of course, this was the Morrigan. As stunning as ever, dressed in her signature red, with her blonde locks side swept. “Of course! I have them, they just arrived.”

“She’ll be thrilled, she talks about them non-stop. Not to me but, you know,” she said with a wink, and all I could do was smile, because I did not know. Did Mor not like Nesta?

“She actually asked me to bring you to the house if they were ready,” Mor said, and I blanched.

“What?”

“Asked for a personal delivery! Of course, you don’t have to. But, you could join us for dinner, if you want.”

Us. Did she mean, the High Lord and Lady? Their inner circle? The handsome warriors, Feyre’s sisters, everyone? The thought had my normally tan cheeks turning pale.

I ran my hands over my pale green dress. It was very simple, something for work, flattering but unthreatening.

Morrigan smiled at me in a disarming way. “Yes, please come! It’s so fun to have guests. Dinners are very informal.”

I glanced once over at her beautiful gown, and looked at her skeptically. She laughs, a beautiful, melodic sound.

“I promise. Please, join us.”

“Oh, sure,” I replied a little shakily, and grabbed Nesta’s books, carefully packaged under my desk in brown paper tied with twine. “Let me just close up.”

I stepped around my wide wooden desk and entered into the bowels of my store. Thousands of books surrounded us, on tall, dark shelves in front of walls painted a dark emerald green. Plants sat atop the bookshelves and between sections by genre, adding an earthy scent and feel to the space. Though books were my first love, plants and flowers were not far behind.

I went through the steps I went through every day to shut down the store, speeding a little and telling myself that tomorrow was my off day, and I could come fix any mistakes I made in my haste.

Once everything was prepared, I rejoined the High Lord’s cousin at the front door, and she beamed at me as if we had been friends for years.

“I’ll winnow us up!” she said cheerily, and extended a hand to me. My shaky palm found hers, and she winked before we disappeared.

—

The home was even more beautiful than I could have imagined. Set into gorgeous red rock, we landed on a sprawling landing, with intricate flooring and a beautiful view of our beloved city below.

“Wow,” I said with a sigh, looking down at where we came from moments ago.

Mor, surely used to such a breath taking view, waved me on towards the large archways that led into a very formal looking dining room. Tall ceilings. Stone and marble everywhere. It was truly stunning.

I glanced down again at my appearance, and shuddered. I hadn’t even thought to freshen my face or tie my unruly curls back into a braid or bun. I surely fit in more with the serving staff than those I would be dining with.

My heart thundered in my chest as I followed the blonde into the elegant dining room. A few people were present already, and I breathed a sigh of relief to see Nesta next to the table, standing and talking with her mate, Cassian. I had met him once or twice, when he stopped to pick something up for Nesta.

They turned to see Mor, and Nesta’s normal scowl turned to an almost smile when she saw me, package in hand.

“Holly!” she said warmly, walking to close the gap and meet me. “Thank you for making a home delivery for me.”

I extended the package to her, and she noticed the shake still present in my hands. As she took the books, her hands lingered over mine for a moment, and she leaned close.

“Don’t let this group intimidate you. They are informal, and you’re my special guest.”

Cassian joined her side and smiled down wide and warm as she stepped back with her books.

“Nesta must be your favorite customer, for you to come all this way,” he said, a teasing glint in his eye.

I smiles back at him, glad for Cassian’s natural talent to put anyone at ease.

“She is, actually. We share a taste in books, and hardly anyone else takes my recommendations so readily as your mate,” I replied, and Nesta gave me another small smile.

Footsteps alerted us to more joining, and my nerves became alight again as I looked to the eastern entrance and saw three figures entering.

I was at a loss for what to do when I saw my High Lord and Lady enter, trailed behind by the infamous shadowsinger.

Though I knew this group is a part of their people, frequenting our town and shops and night life, they were still our leaders - still something else, above us, and my spine stiffened, even though the entered with wide smiles and relaxed shoulders.

As they approached, I bowed, and Cassian laughed.

“No need,” said the High Lord in a deep, silky tone. “Nesta speaks of you, well, more than she speaks of almost anyone.”

I looked up to meet his deep blue gaze to see warmth and welcome there. At his side stood Nesta’s sister, their son in her arms.

“Thank you for joining us,” Feyre said warmly, and the baby, nearing toddler, nuzzled his head into his mother’s shoulder.

They looked resplendent, the two of them together, and I was again at a loss for words. We owed so much to the people in these room, and I felt unworthy of being here.

“It’s truly my honor. I… thank you both,” I said, hoping they read the meaning in my eyes.

The baby, jet black hair like his father and a regal nose like his mother, lunged for me then, nearly leaping from his mother’s arms. She gasped, and I scooped him up on instinct, after years of being an aunt to my sibling’s children.

“Oh hello!” I cooed, and he put a chubby hand on my cheek, staring into my eyes.

Nesta laughed. “Well, Nyx likes her.”

I turned to Rhysand and from behind him, the Shadowsinger stepped around, joining our small circle.

I was over come with how utterly breathtaking he was. Tall and slender, though his black shirt and pants revealed the taught muscles beneath. His golden eyes were shining as he stared at the babe in my arms, and I could look nowhere but at his beautiful, golden-brown face.

His eyes rose from the child to meet mine, and I felt it then.

A thread. A tug. From his chest to mine. A calling - like to like.

Mate to mate.

His mouth fell open, a breath escaping, and I clutched the baby to me to stop from dropping him.

“Mate,” Azriel whispered, and everyone around us fell silent.

#azriel #azriel fic #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x oc

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lure-of-writing · 1 year ago

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Little Sister: Are you going to tell her or should I?

Summary: Morrigan forces Azriel to make a choice. Either she is going to tell you or he is

Word count: 2.7k

part one, part two, part three, part four , part five

The rumbling ground beneath his feet was one indicator of what was about to come. The other indicator was the shaking paintings that were hung on the wall. Rhys may be the most powerful high lord to ever exist but your power easily rivaled his own. In anticipation of your arrival the quill pen that had just been in use was placed gently on the desk right next to the piece of paper it was just being used on. The force of the heavy wood doors being blown open almost sends the paper flying into his face, if not for his hand placed on top of it. “It’s always such a-” the words pleasure to see you died in his throat as you cut him off. “Ok what is the deal?” one of his perfectly groomed eyebrows raised slightly in questioning at your tired tone of voice. “Oh please let's not act like you don’t know what I am talking about.” the eyebrow didn’t lower even a centimeter. Marching over to the inviting seat in front of his desk you ungracefully plop yourself into the waiting chair. “Remember when Cassian accidentally knocked me out?” you watch as your brother wordlessly nodding in confusion. “Good.” you huff out letting the room fill with silence leaving your brother in a stronger state of confusion then before you started talking. At least before you came into his office Rhysand could have guessed about a thousand reasons as to what has you so upset but now he genuinely does not know where you are going with any of this. “ Go back like a week or two in time after me and Az returned from the summer court and both you and him were avoiding me. Why?”

Rhysand knew why he was avoiding you but as for Azriel he's not too sure. Obviously he could take a very educated guess but that was about all he could do without asking. “I was busy.” Now the high lord watched as his little sister copied his earlier action of raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow in questioning. “Busy doing what exactly.” Silence once again engulfed the room as Rhysand weighed the pros and cons of telling you his reasoning for avoiding his own sister. A heavy sigh left his lips as he decided to tell you the nicer reason for his absence in your life. “When I walked in your room and saw Az helping you get dressed, that was obviously not something that I, as your older brother, wanted to see.” the continue on motion of your hand forced him to continue. “And as your older brother I obviously never want you to get hurt. In any version of the word. But as your brother I also realize, very reluctantly, at that might I add, that you deserve to live your own life. That means including having a romantic partner. So I was attempting to convince myself that if you pursued a relationship with Azriel that I would be ok.”

A pregnant pause fell upon the room before you spoke up “That is why you’ve been avoiding me? Seriously?” The warm tone of your laughter brought a warm sensation dancing up Rhysands neck and cheeks. Nobody else had the ability to embarrass him like his little sister does. “Rhys you know Azriel one hundred percent does not see me like that right? I mean yeah I like to use him to irritate you but he only does that because I asked him to.” your shoulders moved up and down in a shrugging motion. “While you may think that is true you have to remember for all of your life I have banned both you and those to pea brains of trying anything with each other so I needed some time to process even the mere thought of that happening.” you watched from across the desk as your brother pretended to gag. “I guess I no longer have to worry about Cass now that he has Nesta.” he added as an afterthought more to himself than to you. “That explains why you have been avoiding me, even if it was because you were having a meltdown over nothing but what about Azriel? Why has he been avoiding me.?” Moments of Rhysands conversation with Azriel played out in his mind. “I can only guess it's because after you paraded around summer” the sound of you scoffing interrupted his story. “Are you done being offended or can I continue.” Rhys watched as you rolled your eyes, taking that as his sign to continue on. “As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted. After you returned I talked to Az about the different times I have caught the two of you in interesting situations, to say the least, and asked him about your relationship with each other. And since I have always made it clear he was never to see you in any way other than platonically I would assume he took that as a sign to step back from being around you.”

The quill pen you summoned was quickly thrown across the desk at your brother “You big overprotective bat! How many times do I need to tell you that Azriel does not see me like that.” Rhys easily caught the pen giving a not so hidden sly smile at your turn to be embarrassed. “No wonder why he's avoiding me. You made it awkward. I’m just his friend's little sister and nothing more. Now I’m sure you’ve given him the wrong idea of me.” A big belly laugh erupted from within Rhysand quickly filling in the room. “After almost five hundred years I think it’s a little late for Az to just now get the wrong idea of you.” the words barely escaped in between the laughter “You are a menace!” Rhys just continued to laugh as you marched your way back out of his office “I love you too!” The echo of his shout follows you down the corridor as you make your way out of his house.

The very next morning you made your way to the top of the house ready to start training. “Ah ah ah.” Cassian's voice tuts from across the open roof top. Your eyes scan the room until they land on the wiggling finger that matched the owners equally as wiggly head. “You are not to be training until Madja says you can.” scrunching your face you look at Nesta before making eye contact with the general again “And who are you? My mother?” A bellowing laughter swallows up the words that just slipped past your lips. “When it comes to training I sure am.” his larger than most bicep wraps around your shoulders tucking your body into his. Leading you to the entrance that leads back to the lower level of the house. Cassian had almost gotten you to the threshold of the door when you spotted Azriel from the corner of your eye. Quickly you twirl out of your training mothers warmth and strut over to the one and only shadowsinger. “You’ve been avoiding me. Why?” the fact you had to tilt your head slightly upwards had never irritated you like it did in that moment. You watched as his hazel eyes shuffled across the room taking note of every person who showed up to training this morning. “I haven’t been avoiding you.” you could tell he was being extra quiet on purpose “Oh really is that why Rhys told me-” the words died in your throat as strong hands wrapped around your torso and lifted you from the ground. “Now young one I don’t think interrogating someone is something Madja said you were ok to do yet. Plus training starts in two minutes so you can do your questioning at a later time.” Gently Cassian once more places you on the outside of the training area. Glowering you said nothing as Cassian chuckled at your lack of response before making his way back to the center of the area.

You watched as Azriel gave Cassian an appreciative nod and Cassian just patted him on the back before starting training. Something was definitely going on, you just didn’t know what. For now at least.

If there was one thing that living this long has given you it was an endless supply of patience. So for almost three hours you stood leaning against the wall watching both warriors show off different techniques following up with critiquing each other's quote unquote weak spots for techniques. Finally after everything was said and done did Cassian allow you to step foot in the official training area. Azriel was stood by himself drinking water when you appeared in front of him. “Why have you been avoiding me?” you could hear how hurt you sounded to your own ears and tried to not wince at the sound of the pathetic tone you displayed. You watched as the male's face fell before you. “I didn’t mean for you to feel like I was avoiding you. It’s just-” you observed as it appeared Azriel was having an internal debate with himself before sighing a reluctant sigh “ you know how Rhys gets when it comes to you. After we got back he asked if anything was going on between the two of us and I said no. I respect both you and Rhys. I never want to betray Rhysands trust so I haven’t been avoiding you per say but you know.” he ended with a hefty shoulder shrug.

“So what I’m hearing is that you don’t hate me?” the facade of the shadowsinger broke in front of you to reveal a gentle, kind hearted male who would do anything for his family. The chuckle that fell from his lips brought a giggle to your own. “No, I don't hate you. I don't even think that's possible.” Azriel opens his arms as an invite to share a hug. Even though he was covered in sweat from head to toe you wrapped your arms around his torso pressing your cheek against his chest where his heart was beating. “Well that's good to know because I was starting to get concerned.” Another chuckle made its way out of his throat and the vibrations of his laughter once again caused your own laughter. “So” you drag out the last vowel “Does that mean you will go shopping with me tomorrow?” you propped your chin against his chest and looked up at your closest friend. “If I must.” His gentle teasing was met with an equally if not gentler kiss on the hairline of your forehead.

Ever since your confrontation with Azriel things seemed to go back to normal but not completely back to normal. Something was off that you couldn’t put your finger on but it was without a doubt better than it used to be. The flow of the inner circle had almost returned back to completely normal. That would be until a few weeks later when at family dinner everything would change.

It was very well known that dinners amongst the inner circle were tradition but it was lesser known that having a dinner where each personal either cooked or brought something to contribute to the dinner was also a tradition.

This time around it was Feyre, Mor, Elain and yourself in the kitchen. Collectively as a good the three of you were trying your best not to destroy the High ladys kitchen. Elain had no such problems as she was often found making the best treats for the family on a daily basis. The oldest and youngest sister along with yourself had managed to make an edible dinner item, even though it was more challenging than the three of you would like to admit. While cooking was a neutral territory for yourself in terms of skills, it was cooking for three grown Illyrian bats and their accompanying companion along with the rest of the family that stretched your cooking abilities thin. It was a miracle the food was even edible on a good day. Let alone a day with nine hungry fae waiting to be fed.

After much work in the kitchen everyone had finally settled down around the table, only after much wrangling on both Feyres and yours behalf. Rhys was at the head of the table with your sister-in-law while you were seated in between Morrgian and Elain. Across from you was Amren, Azriel, Cassian and Nesta sitting in that order.

Dinner was going as well as it normally did. Cass was making stupid jokes poking at Amren. Feyre was playing mediator, just in case they decided they wanted to destroy each other. And in turn destroy her house. Your brother was assisting Feyre in keeping the family under control and also dotting on her the whole time. Nesta and you were talking about books and Mor along with Elain were discussing different clothing options.

The smell in the room was subtle at first but quickly you realized the brownies you had put in the oven prior to everyone sitting down were finally done. You just hopped they were burnt. With an abrupt “Oh! Crap!” you sent your chair sliding backwards and hurried off towards the hopefully unharmed cooked batter. After a few minutes of cutting and neatly placing the brownies on a platter you re-entered the dining room that was just as chaotic as when you had left. Cooking you may not be the best at but you were a pretty great baker. The Random desserts you make were always a hit amongst your family and you were sure these would be no different.

“Anyone want a brownie? Of course Cass was the first to raise his hand and thus started your journey around the table handing out freshly baked goods. You had just rounded the corner of the table when you noticed that one person didn’t take a treat. Azriel. “Az? You don’t want a brownie?” you scrunched your brows together as you gently raise the platter you were holding as in an invitation. “No I’m ok” without realizing your face fell. “But you always eat anything I bake. You always say that I make the best desserts and you’ve never turned them down.” Azriel didn’t take his eyes off of you, instead they shifted between the platter of food back to your eyes before they repeated the process a few more times. “It’s-” his stutter catches you off guard causing you to raise an eyebrow in both confusion and questioning.

“It’s just that I’m full right now and I-” once again you made a confused look and glanced down to his plate “That's only your second plate of food usually you eat three or four so I know you're not full. Why don’t you want one? Do you not like my baking?” Once again you found yourself feeling extra hurt about a choice Azriel had made. Usually you were never this emotional but lately you couldn’t help it. Maybe it was the hit to the head that was causing you to be so emotional. As it wasn’t fully healed yet. The male was certainly free to do what he wants but this was new and confusing. “Oh help the brother and the mother.” you looked down to Morr where she had propped her elbows on the table and rested her head upon her hands. “What?” Your confused tone causes a giggle to escape. “Do you really not understand why he won't eat the damn brownie?” Just as your cousin was about to explain, Azriel cut her off. “Morrigan don’t. It’s not your place to tell her.”

Now this had your attention. What exactly was there to tell? And Why was Azriel being so secretive about it? After what felt like forever of the two of them going back and forth with each other you intervened. “Will somebody please tell me what is going on?” you didn’t shout but your question definitely wasn’t quiet either. You just needed to get their attention and it worked. “Are you going to tell her or should I?” Silence engulfed the room but Morrigan didn’t let it last too long. “The reason he won't accept your food is because you're his mate.” and in that moment everything stopped.

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#acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #azriel angst #rhysand x sister!reader

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lady-of-tearshed · 3 months ago

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Coming out

@sjmprideweek

Day 5: Family

Pairing: Azriel centered, but mention of Azris.

Summary: Azriel announces that he's seeing someone to his family.

Word count: 1.5k words

Warnings: Someone drinking alcohol, someone choking on alcohol (no one dies), innuendo of sex.

Dividers made by @tsunami-of-tears 💙

“I've recently discovered I was into males.”

That, Azriel concluded, was definitely one way to get his family's attention.

Eight pairs of eyes pivoted in his direction. Only Nyx seemed unbothered by this revelation, far too young and carefree to give a damn about anything else than the colorful fruit puree splattered in front of him.

Cassian, always the biggest mouth of the Inner Circle, was the first to break the silence. “It's a… new discovery?”

“Yes.”

Cassian, as difficult to imagine, looked at his brother with an even more confused expression. He opened his mouth and closed it a few times, and then the look on his face turned from one of confusion to one of mid-amusement. “Weren't you already into guys?”

This time, it was Azriel's turned to he confused. “What?”

“Yeah, you know,” Cassian started counting on his fingers. “The guy that bought you a drink at Rita's a few weeks ago? The one you wouldn't stop looking into his big russet eyes. I thought you had gone back with him at the end of the night. Or the other one, freckled one, with the slumped rear, last month. The one that bought you the coffee and wrote his name on the cup-”

“Cassian,” Rhysand half-scolded his brother, stopping him in his overflowing river of information, and saving Azriel from the embarrassment.

Azriel couldn't believe how blind he had been to all the cues of his male attraction. It seemed obvious to him, now, that someone not into males wouldn't have admitted to his brother how scrumptious the ass of the male from the cafe near The Rainbow was. That, right there, had been one hell of a clue Azriel should've picked on. That and the fact that even though he didn't, he had wished, only for a short, confusing moment, that he had gone home with that other male from Rita's a few weeks ago.

Azriel probably would've discovered his male attraction a long time ago (probably before Eris had wrapped his Cauldron blessed lips around his shaft) if he had been able to pull his head away from work and his own personal worries, he realized.

“Well next time we go to Rita's, I'll make sure you go home with a pretty male,” Cassian announced, dismissing Rhysand's warning with a wave of his hand.

“Oh,” Azriel blinked, furrowing his brows as he tried to look for the right words. “That won't be necessary.” He settled with, hoping that Cassian (by some kind of miracle) would just drop the subject and move on with his life-

“Why, of course it is! Maybe that would help you get that broomstick out of your ass-”

“No.”

“Or some other lucky male’s ass?”

“I'm… already seeing someone.”

Amren choked on her wine. Morrigan, as swift as an arrow, jolted up from her seat to pat her friend’s back and telling her to keep coughing. Amren’s face, still red from the gulp that half went down the wrong pipe, turned slowly into the blond’s direction. The glare she threw at her friend seemed to come from the deepest depths of the Cauldron. If a look could kill, Morrigan would’ve been slayed on the spot.

Once recovered from her near death experience, Amren spoke up. “Do they know you’re gay?”

Cassian frowned. “Actually, doesn’t that make him bisexual? Since he’s into males and-.”

“Do they know.” Amren repeated, her voice as sharp as Azriel’s most treasured weapon.

“Of course they do,” He answered quite coldly. He was half hurt that his family would even assume that he would be cold-hearted enough to be romantically involved with someone and hide parts of himself from them. Besides, why was this any of their business? He started to wonder why he even cared being honest with them if it only meant for him to receive such a cold reaction. “Also, they are a male. And no, Cas, I do not think that makes me bisexual. Well, yes. Perhaps,” He looked down at his plate, moved some vegetables around as he tried to figure it out. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out.”

Some looks were exchanged amongst the people gathered at this table. After what felt like a never ending period of heavy and uncomfortable silence, someone’s chair scrapped on the floor.

Azriel looked up to see Rhysand moving around the table, and before he could analyze wether it was to throttle him or something else, his brother’s arms were circling his neck in a firm, yet gentle embrace.

“I’m glad you found someone,” Rhysand said, grunting a little when Cassian joined the group hug, his weight crushing both males.

“When can we meet him?” Cassian asked, his tone nearly buzzing with excitement.

Azriel tensed. “I don’t think it would be a good idea.”

“Why?” Nesta asked cautiously from her seat, where she still sat.

“Az…” Feyre rectified quickly. “We wouldn’t have any reasons why meeting him wouldn’t be a good idea-”

“Is he unkind?” Nesta blatantly ignored her sister’s too-soft approach.

“No! No,” Azriel quickly answered, half afraid the eldest Archeron would bite his head off if he avoided the topic. “He is very kind… when you get to know him.”

“Then I don’t see any problem there,” Feyre offered him a comforting smile.

Azriel’s insides felt like they were on fire. He knew he’d have to announce the inevitable truth sooner than later. His family was nosy enough to figure it out by themselves quickly, and telling them before they could find out would be preferable and cause less damage.

“We will accept this male into our lives no matter what, brother,” Rhysand squeezed his shoulder.

“So long as he treats you right,” Added Cassian, his eyes glimmering with emotions and unshed tears.

“He’s-” Azriel bit his lip, hesitating. “He’s from another Court. He’s… different.”

“Like I said,” Rhysand’s eyes bore into Azriel’s, his face and heart as open and honest as can be. “We’ll accept him, no matter what.”

“Even if he’s a High Lord?”

At that, Cassian tensed, his eyes narrowed. “Mother’s tits Az… Don’t tell me it’s Helion? You know he has a…” Cassian paused, his eyes traveling to the other side of the table, where a red-headed male sat calmly beside Elain. “Reputation.”

Azriel almost laughed out loud. Helion was indeed one lovely High Lord, but he was not the one who fought to earn his heart. He opened his mouth to finally be honest about who that mysterious male he’s seeing is when someone does it for him.

“It’s Eris, isn’t it?”

All eyes turned to Nesta, then widened when they looked back in Azriel’s direction only to see the slightest shade of pink coloring the Illyrian’s cheeks.

“Yes, it is,” As if it needed clarifications, Azriel added. “Eris. Eris Vanserra.”

And for a moment, Azriel actually started to worry about Rhysand’s poor, old heart.

“Oh, Azriel!” Nesta exclaimed, “Those are wonderful news!”

She nearly crashed into him, shoving the two males aside to take her turn at hugging him.

As she hugged him, Azriel’s shadows informed him of the look that meant something similar to ‘If you dare say something hurtful about it, I’ll kill you’ Nesta gave Rhysand. When Nesta slowly untangled herself from Azriel, Rhysand cleared his throat.

“Well,” He said, his pale looking more pale than usual and his voice sounding shaky. Rhysand wanted to rip the earth in half and curse the Mother for his brother’s awful taste in males, but he didn’t. He was a male of honor, and already assured his brother (two times, no less) that he would accept this male no matter what. So. “Do you… Like him?”

“Yes, I think I do,” Azriel said, his heart open and honest. A strange, yet positive, feeling wrapped around his heart and made his face turn warm every time he thought of the male. “We’re not really something. Just… seeing each other and figuring things out as we go.”

“If he breaks your heart,” Cassian snarled, looking at the other Vanserra present in the room as if he had personally hurt him, “I’ll make sure his heart will be slowly and painfully ripped out of his pretty neck. Then I’ll feed it to his Gods damned dog.”

“He won’t,” Lucien spoke up for the first time since the beginning of this family gathering. “When a Vanserra loves, or cares, it does fiercely,” His gaze turned to Elain and softened. “And unconditionally.”

Azriel held back from rectifying that what was between him and Eris wasn’t love, but… The more he thought about it, the more he started thinking that, yes, it could be love, It could grow as something fierce, and unconditional. But for now, they were figuring themselves out.

“Then it is more than we could ask for,” Feyre stated, her voice firm and true. “We’re all delighted for you, Azriel.”

“Yes,” Rhysand said, smiling. Cassian nodded alongside him. “We are.”

And that was more than anything Azriel could’ve hoped for, his family’s love and support.

ACOTAR general taglist: @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @acotar-lover @paige0103

Azris taglist: @g00seg1rl

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azrielbrainrot · 1 year ago

Text

Loose Lips and Big Feelings

Pairing: Band Member!Azriel x College Student!Reader

Description: Azriel gets a little drunk and you take care of him.

Warnings: Alcohol?

Word Count: 2320

Notes: This is a little short but very cute. As always, this is part of the band au but you can read it as a standalone. Also I decided the boys make early Arctic Monkeys type music because imagining Azriel singing 505 sounds delicious. Hope you enjoy!

Band AU Masterlist

The bar was already packed with drunk people by the time you arrived. It was so full you were surprised they even let you in, you had to take a deep breath, readying yourself before diving into the sea of people. Finding Azriel and his friends was going to be harder than you thought, you might have to text him again. The situation was somewhat nostalgic to the first time you set foot in this bar, the same night you met Azriel. It's amazing how much things have changed in a matter of months.

Someone was doing a cover of a song you recognized on stage, it almost made you want to hum along and enjoy it for a bit, but you needed to get to Azriel's table first. You couldn't really see the woman singing on stage aside from her striking ginger hair and blue dress, but her voice was truly amazing. You could definitely understand why everyone was so excited to see her. You'd have to ask Azriel if he knew her, maybe try to see one of her shows properly.

You hadn't actually planned on coming tonight, Azriel and the boys weren't even playing and you'd rather sleep away the week. In fact, an hour ago you had been sitting at your desk hoping to get enough progress on an essay so you could completely free up your Sunday to rest and lay in bed all day. But, when a mildly intoxicated Azriel texted you, asking you to meet up with him at the bar, you couldn't resist the offer.

It's not often he asks you outright to meet him, always so conscious of your hectic schedule and workload, even your recent aversion to social outings. So you couldn't really deny him the one time he actually did. You were also a bit curious to see what had him so excited, his happiness was extremely contagious, and admittedly a bit curious to see what he's like when he's drunk, if your intuition had been right then he was close to wasted when he sent you those texts littered with typos.

He had told you that they were sitting at the table by the big red poster, you were pretty sure you knew which one he meant, but unfortunately it was close to the stage which means it would be difficult to get to it while the performance was happening. You were caught between excuse me’s and apologies when you finally caught sight of familiar broad shoulders and luscious tied back hair.

Even when they're not on stage, they're hard to miss. Cassian is at least a head taller than the crowd, so even when he's sitting down you can always count on finding him. He's the first one to notice you as well, greeting you with a shout of your name, somehow audible over the music, and a big grin, as you keep trying to gently push your way through the crowd to get to them.

You find the three of them tucked into the sofas by the table Azriel told you about. Apparently being one of the performing bands gave you access to the best seats in the bar, you always got stuck with the regular chairs. As you get closer to the table you notice Morrigan and another girl you haven't met before were also present.

“You came,” Morrigan yelled excitedly as soon as you got up to the table. It seems they're all drinking tonight, the table is full of grins and flushed cheeks.

“I did,” you chuckle at the overenthusiastic greetings from everyone at the table. A familiar scarred hand reaches out for yours immediately, tugging on it so you would sit down next to him. It's not missed on you the eyebrows the gesture raises, you've learned that he's not always forthcoming with letting people touch or hold his hands so you're sure they didn't really expect him to do it so easily. They probably didn't know Azriel told you everything either.

The sofas were small so it was a tight fit as you sat down right next to him, having no other option but let your leg comfortably rest on his, the feeling of his rough jeans on your bare skin making you giddy for some reason. His arm comes around your waist straight away so his hand settles on the side of your thigh, pulling you even closer into him.

The gesture makes you look up at him, his face a lot closer than you expected, you could feel his breath hit your skin and if you moved even an inch closer your nose would bump against his. The smile he gives you almost takes your breath away as you let out a soft greeting, “Hi.” You're surprised he even heard you, if you weren't so close to each other he wouldn't have been able to over the music, but he throws the same word back at you, in the same whispered tone you used, as his smile widens, eyes not making any effort to leave yours.

“So this is Azriel's friend,” the girl you haven't met before says with a tone that suggests she's heard a lot about you. The thought of Azriel or any of the boys telling anyone about you has your heart skipping a beat. Her voice also cuts through the spell you and Azriel seemed to be locked in, finally breaking eye contact with him so you can answer her. But, as you look back to the table, you become more than aware that everyone just witnessed your little moment and the smirks on their faces make it hard to play it off.

“This is Amren. She's our manager,” Rhysand explains before you have to ask, a shit eating grin growing on his face as he takes in the flushed state of yours.

“Nice to meet you,” you try to keep your voice leveled but even to your ears it sounds breathless. You swallow softly and try to move the conversation along as Azriel starts rubbing small circles over your skirt, “You didn't tell me why you're celebrating.”

“Rita just told us she's doubling our performances at the bar,” Azriel explains, a little slur noticeable in his voice.

“Really?” You turn back to him as he nods again with a big grin on his face. He looked really excited to share the news with you.

“She's giving us a raise too,” Cass adds, and then looks back at his mostly empty cup and then at your empty hand, “We need to get you a drink.” You stop him before he can get up. “I think I'll be the responsible one tonight and stay sober.” The disappointed reactions around the table make you laugh but also accept that you'd be the babysitter tonight, they were all bordering on wasted already.

As the night went on, everyone only got progressively drunker. It seems like since they can't usually drink too much when they have to perform, they took the opportunity that everyone was here to party as much as they could. Even Azriel, who you never really saw drinking, was talking and laughing like you've never really seen him. He's more of a quiet guy most of the time, preferring to listen rather than entertain. It was nice to see him let loose a little.

The bar was getting quieter since the performance had ended a while ago and the big majority of the attendees started filtering out shortly after. The only people that were still around were ones that were as drunk as your present company. You didn't really mind being sober though, Cassian had brought you some sort of juice so you had something to sip on, and as loud as they were, they were easy drunks to deal with.

Amren had left right after the performance ended with a warning not to stay up too late since they had practice tomorrow. You got the sense she wasn't too much of a crowded bar person but she seemed nice enough. After that everyone else seemed to leave one by one, you tried to keep track of them, not wanting them to end up in trouble as drunk as they were, but as you saw Morrigan making out with a pretty girl with long black hair on the dancefloor your worry subsided.

This also left you alone with Azriel, who has been a lot more talkative and touchy than he usually is. At this exact moment, he was telling you a story, that you lost track of about halfway in, and holding one of your hands in between his, as he played with your fingers, twisting and turning the rings you were wearing. He has also not made any move to sit away from you even though you were the only remaining people at the table, your leg really didn't need to be thrown over his. Azriel was a clingy drunk and your cheeks hurt from smiling at the realization.

You were pondering on how to stop him so you could take him home. It was getting really late and you've already gotten almost unreadable texts from everyone saying they left. He had also told you he had work today so he has to be exhausted. But you didn't have the heart as you watched him excitedly continue on with his story.

At some point, he notices you weren't really following along and just stops, tilting his head to the side slightly. Your smile only widens at the sight. “What?”

“You're cute when you're drunk,” you admit.

“I think you're cute all the time,” he retorts without missing a beat, making your face heat up.

You always had a hard time telling yourself to keep your feelings for him platonic, but between the boyish smile, the flirtatious comments and the lingering touches, it was getting close to impossible to achieve today. “And flirty,” you struggle out.

“Only with you.” Cauldron. You really needed to get him to sober up and take him home.

You get up to do just that and within ten minutes, you're out of the bar and waiting for an uber by the same empty parking lot you usually find yourself in when you come out. He's also a pretty obedient drunk it seems. All you had to do was grab his hand and he looked like he was ready to follow you anywhere your heart desired. You were so glad you chose not to drink because your heart was definitely giving you ideas and your brain was the only thing stopping you.

Azriel was still holding onto your hand and you honestly had no intention of letting go of him. You couldn't really take your eyes off him. His cheeks and the tips of his ears were flushed, the low lights of the bar hasn't let you really take in the sight. Some of his hair was sticking to his forehead and that same boyish smile hasn't left his face all night. No one should be allowed to look this good when they're drunk.

“Remember when we met here?” His words were starting to sound a bit clearer, maybe the cold air was helping him sober up a little or he was just getting tired. You think he told you he had work today and it was already late.

“Of course. It only happened a few months ago.”

“Feels like I've known you my whole life,” he says as he looks down at your linked hands, running his thumb softly over your skin.

“We didn't meet here though,” your voice seems to bring him out of his thoughts, his eyes finding yours, “You gave me back my keys when we were still inside.”

His smile turned a little shy at that. “I'm not sure that counts. I was running late and barely said anything,” he says rubbing the back of his neck, “I was beating myself up over it the whole show.”

“I…” you hesitate for a moment, unsure if he'll remember anything come morning. unsure if you'd want him to, “I was having a really bad day when we met, didn't even really want to come out, but I'm really glad I did, even though I got a massive headache out of it. If I hadn't come I wouldn't have met you. And I can't really imagine my life without you now.”

You tighten your hold on his hand and use it to pull him a little closer to you, close enough that you have to crane your neck back to be able to keep looking up into his eyes. “I think you came into my life at the perfect time, Azriel,” you smile up at him.

The emotion that crosses his face is so overbearing it's impossible to miss or confuse for anything else than adoration and… something more, something you've been trying to ignore for far too long. Gods, you really wish he was sober.

He raises his hand to cup your cheek softly, rubbing his thumb over your warm skin. “I think so too, princess,” he whispers, looking at you like he can't believe you're real. You've noticed the nickname only comes out when it's just the two of you and at times like this, when it seems he doesn't even realize he's said it, like he's been holding himself back from doing it regularly.

You could have stayed here, looking up at his beautiful hazel eyes all night, but it doesn't take long for a black car to come to a stop a few feet away from you, effectively pulling you out of your thoughts. You almost forgot you were still outside the bar, still needed to take this big drunk bat home. Taking a step back, you tug on his hand once again, so he can follow you to the car. “Come on, Azzie. We need to get you home.”

taglist: @bookishbroadwaybish @sad-anxious-muffin @mika-no-sekai-blog @starwholistenanddreamsanswered @secretlyhers @evergreenlark @vermillionwinter @anuttellaa @lilah-asteria @tinymarklee @lupinswolfsbanes @therealmoonstone

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

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