#spring/summer az

[vibesofafashionkilla]

[costumeloverz71]

AZ Factory Spring/Summer 2024

[origamistarsandco]

A gentle reminder for me everyone with mood disorders (bipolar, depression, anxiety, etc) that changing seasons can disregulate your moods and you're not going crazy, the sun is just getting up a little earlier.

[fashionfoodcocktails]

Trend Report SS-24| The Rise of Micro Shorts:

[utterlyotterlyx]

Can I request something where Azriel has to pick up Nyx from school one day and thinks his teacher is cute & is very flirty with her?

Yes! Love this idea so much!

When I Kissed The Teacher

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary - Feyre loves Nyx's teacher but loves playing matchmaker even more. After sending Azriel to collect Nyx from school one day after feigning a studio related emergency, she's very happy to learn that Azriel's affections are completely in the palm of your hand.

Warnings - none really, just cuteness all round

Feyre had always been worried about sending Nyx off to school, even though she believed Rhys when he told her that the schools of Velaris were the best in Prythian, she couldn't help but feel anxious that he wouldn't thrive.

Then she met you, and all of her worries faded away.

You were everything Feyre wanted in a teacher for her child, it had taken a lot of weight throwing to get him into your class, it was full to the brim of children from higher born families, only wanting the best for their offspring. Feyre wasn't even surprised.

It was clear how much you cared about your children, in nurturing them into intelligently creative creatures. Other teachers focused solely on the academics, but you had a passion for the arts, you said creativity helped children to find their passions and grow into more compassionate and joyful souls.

Nyx had run into her arms when she had come to collect him that first day, babbling on about what a wonderful time he had with you. Miss Y/L/N. Feyre had never seen such wonderment in his eyes when he told her in that broken infant language how great you were. Everyone's worries about Nyx becoming a shell had vanished.

The little thing had returned home with paintings, reciting poetry from your favourite passages; he had the desire to read, making different voices for the different characters like he had learned from you. Nyx was well and truly flourishing.

Feyre had insisted that you walk home with them one afternoon, since you only lived five minutes from the River House and it was on your route home anyway. From that walk, Feyre had learned much about you, that you were from Spring but left after being disowned by your family for wanting more from life than being married away to be used as a breeding tool. After that you had travelled the continent, making many friends along the way and opening your mind to the world before settling in Hewn City, only to be brought to Velaris on Rhys' orders because he had heard of your talents and passion and wanted it taking root in the children of his city.

The more you spoke, rambling on about art and books and theatre, did Feyre come to the realisation that a certain someone would be absolutely besotted with you. When you had hugged Nyx goodbye, ruffling his hair and telling him you'd see him in the morning, did Feyre begin to hatch her plan.

Azriel wasn't one for sunshine and rainbows, but even he had to admit that Nyx's and Feyre's gushings about you had him intrigued, even Rhys had commented on how sweet you were, seemingly very fond of how Nyx was excelling under your wing.

"Az, would you mind grabbing Nyx today? I have to head to the studio, delivery emergency," Feyre floated past him toward the door, a thin cloak fitted around her shoulders to protect her from the afternoon summer breeze that drifted along the Sidra.

"Uh, yeah. Sure," he waved Feyre from the house as she dashed down the path shouting over her shoulder what time to be at the school for.

The sun was beginning to dip in the sky but warmth still flew through Velaris, Azriel walked along the winding paths and up the hill to the school, the skittering sound of children's laughter filling his ears as he approached. Parents parted as he walked down the cobbled stone path, not wanting to graze against his wings with slight unease in their eyes. Azriel was used to it by now, the looks of disapproval, the slight fear in the people he passed.

The bell rang and birds shot to perch on the branches of the trees that surrounded the plush gardens teeming with bright flowers and wildlife. Children began to file out from the open door, grabbing their bags and running to their parents with wide smiles, excited to tell them what you had taught them that day.

Azriel spied the inside wall littered will paintings and cards, all addressed to you, as well as a wooden table filled with the gifts the children had no doubt made their parents purchase for you.

Then he saw you, and the Shadowsinger audibly gasped. There you were, dressed in a loose white blouse with stringed corset, an earthy brown skirt that fell to the floor covered in colourful handprints that reached your thighs, your hair was unbound and baby hairs whispered along the sides of your face.

You were sunshine. You were radiant.

Nyx's hand was curled in your own as you led him out of the classroom and Azriel could have sworn he'd never seen a brighter look on anyone's face as the little man searched the crowd, "Uncle, Az!"

Your gaze had also fallen on him and you drank in his smile as Nyx left your grip and hurtled to the Shadowsinger, his grin was large, showing off all of his teeth as he bent down and wrapped Nyx in his toned arms, laughing loudly and asking about his day before standing up.

"I don't think we've ever formally met," you held your free hand out, your other carrying Nyx's bag, "I'm Y/N, well, Miss Y/L/N."

You were as soft as summer rain, adoration in your orbs, and you radiated purity and grace. Azriel glanced at your outstretched hand, sliding his own into it and feeling a force of gravity will him closer to you, "So you're the one that has Nyx ready for school at the crack of dawn," he felt relief when you didn't recoil at his hand in yours, the hands that usually made people grimace, "Azriel," you giggled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your pointed ear.

High Fae.

"Guilty as charged," your voice was like butter, smooth and rich, the perfect balance of femineity.

"Can't say I blame him," he smirked at the heat that rose to his cheeks, at the sheepish smile that tugged at your lips.

"That's very nice of you to say," one of your students walked past you, waving goodbye, and Azriel watched you bend down and fix her jacket to her body, telling her to have a lovely weekend in the sun, "Nyx has had a lovely day today. He just keeps on flourishing, it's remarkable," you had told him once you had risen again.

"I'm sure anyone could flourish with you around. Must be the Y/N effect," he cocked his head to the side at your giggle, just happy to be able to examine the woman who had Nyx all excited every morning. Feyre and Rhys were right, you were remarkable. Like a rainbow rippling in a storm.

"Must be it," the birds jumped from branch to branch around you, like they wanted to keep an eye on you for as long as possible, flitting to the bird houses you had erected by the pond of ducks and in the trees.

"Would you like to walk home with us? Feyre mentioned that you didn't live too far from the house?"

Your mouth fell into the perfect o shape, "Oh, I wouldn't want to impose-"

"You're not," Azriel smiled, looking down at Nyx, shaking his little hand and asking, "Is she, Nyx? Would you like Miss Y/L/N to walk home with us?"

"Yes!" Nyx shouted and you laughed, a laugh that made the edges of your eyes crinkle, you disappeared into the building, returning a few moments later with you satchel, locking the door and taking Nyx's free hand in your own after handing his bag to Azriel.

Azriel was positive that he'd never seen Nyx shine so brightly.

The walk home was full of light chatter, you made Azriel laugh more times than you could count, and Nyx was pointing out random things along the way, looking up at you for approval and tapping his feet on the ground when you nodded and smiled.

From the house, Feyre watched through the curtains as Nyx ran up the path, and kept watching as Azriel lingered behind, she wished she could hear what he was saying to you. But as you smiled, and blushed, and then nodded at the Shadowsinger who was kicking his feet like a schoolboy, she knew it was going well.

Strong arms wrapped around her midsection and her back hit a hard chest, his deep chuckle vibrated through him and his warm breath fanned against her ear, "Playing matchmaker again, darling?"

Feyre hummed with a gentle smile, accepting the peppering kisses over her shoulder as she watched you walk away, looking back at Azriel and waving before turning the corner, "I think this is my best one yet," she told Rhys, noticing the pursed smile on Azriel's lips and the faint pink tinge to his complexion as he followed Nyx up the path.

"I'm inclined to agree."

SO CUTE!

Thank you for the request! x

[skiesuconn]

a vow in every touch

wc: 1.6k pairing: paige n azzi the spring air outside was warm, but it wasn’t hot, the kind of soft breeze that carried the scent of fresh grass and the promise of summer. paige had already picked up a bouquet of pink lilies, az's favorite, and she couldn’t help but smile when she saw azzi’s dorm come into view. she parked her car outside, taking in the way the sun hung lazily in the sky, casting a golden glow on everything it touched. paige never got tired of this moment: seeing azzi, always a little more breathtaking than the last time, and knowing this time, this night, was just for them.

she climbed out of the car and walked around to the passenger side, her hand resting lightly on the door before she opened it with an exaggerated flourish. “m’lady,” she teased, offering a grin that made azzi’s heart flutter.

azzi’s eyes sparkled with a teasing smile, her voice soft but playful. “you’re such a dork.”

“i know,” paige responded, keeping her voice warm, her eyes always filled with the same gentle affection as she helped azzi. she was always like this with her—gentle, like she was handling something fragile, yet the affection was there, so clear, so undeniable. she reached out to buckle azzi in, brushing the back of her hand against azzi’s side as she leaned across her to click the seatbelt into place, the closeness so familiar, so right. azzi’s heart skipped a beat as she looked at her, feeling that flutter of nervousness, that little spark of something deeper that she couldn’t always quite name.

paige shot her a grin, one that was both teasing and tender. “just getting you settled,” she said lightly. “you’ve got your favorite person driving, after all.”

the drive was easy, quiet at times, save for the soft hum of the engine and the occasional laugh they shared over some silly comment paige made. one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting casually on azzi’s knee. paige had this way about her—always knowing just where to touch, just where to press, like she had it memorized. her fingers moved in soft, deliberate circles against azzi’s skin, and azzi found herself melting into the touch. it was too easy to let go with paige—too easy to fall into the warmth of her presence. the night stretched out before them, peaceful and uninterrupted, and azzi was in no rush to leave it.

she stole glances at paige, catching her gaze in the rearview mirror every now and then. there was something about her—something in the way she held herself, something in the way she made the simplest moments feel meaningful. azzi let herself be lost in that. let herself be lost in paige.

“you know, you’re a real gentleman, you know that?” azzi teased, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

paige laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “only for you, kid,” she said, the playfulness in her voice settling into something a little softer. “but don’t go telling anyone. i’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

as they pulled up to the lakeside spot, paige was already out of the car before azzi could even think of unbuckling herself. she leapt onto the roof of the car to grab the duffel bag, the motion as casual as breathing, as if this—taking care of azzi—was the easiest thing in the world. she was everything azzi needed, everything she’d been waiting for. paige always made it seem effortless.

paige took a deep breath, then looked over at azzi, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “how about i carry you to the lake? like a princess. you know, to spare your tired legs.”

azzi raised an eyebrow, glancing at the duffel bag full of food and blankets that she’d brought along. “i think you’ve got enough to carry already,” she said softly, her tone teasing, but also warm.

paige shrugged, her expression one of mock seriousness. “nah. i can handle it. besides, i’m strong.”

azzi couldn’t help the fond smile that spread across her face. “okay, okay. but you better not drop me.”

“i never would,” paige said with a wink, and with that, she was lifting azzi in her arms like she weighed nothing, careful and gentle, but strong as ever. it felt like something out of a dream, the way paige held her. she didn’t want to think about it too much, but azzi couldn’t help but picture it—paige carrying her across the threshold of their home someday. maybe not yet, but one day.

“just hold on,” paige murmured softly as they walked toward the lake, her voice low and sure. she was so calm, so steady. she could carry the world if it meant making azzi feel safe, making her feel wanted.

when they finally reached the lakeside, the world seemed to slow. paige laid the blanket down first, smoothing it out on the ground, then set down the rest of their things: a basket of food, a couple of water bottles, and a small cooler. it was simple, but it was perfect.

paige turned to azzi, a smile on her face. “alright. you sit here, and i’ll take care of the rest. no rushing.” she gave azzi a gentle push toward the blanket, and azzi complied, sitting down, feeling the cool grass brush against her skin.

azzi didn’t hesitate. she lay down next to paige, her head settling on paige’s lap as she spread her legs out beside her. they both savored the stillness. no expectations, just the quiet of the night, the soft rustling of leaves, the steady rhythm of each other’s breathing.

paige’s fingers were gentle as they threaded through azzi’s curls. “your hair’s so soft,” she murmured, her voice just above a whisper.

azzi smiled, her eyes fluttering closed. “you’re just saying that because you’re obsessed with my curls.”

paige laughed lightly. “guilty,” she said, but there was a tenderness to her tone that softened the words. “i’m not complaining.”

they stayed like that for a while, letting time pass in its own slow, deliberate rhythm. paige eventually pulled out a coconut water, the kind azzi always raved about. “got your favorite,” she said, her voice teasing as she cracked it open.

azzi raised an eyebrow. “you sure that’s for me?”

paige took a sip, then immediately made a face. “okay, maybe not. it’s awful,” she said with a grin, spitting it out onto the ground, and azzi couldn’t help but laugh.

“stop being such a dorkk” azzi teased.

paige just shrugged, grinning. “well, someone has to be.”

as the evening wore on, azzi began to drift, her eyelids growing heavy. paige noticed, her heart swelling with affection. she gently smoothed a lock of azzi’s hair behind her ear, her thumb brushing against her cheek.

“you’re so effortlessly beautiful.” paige whispered softly, almost to herself.

azzi barely registered the words, but the warmth in paige’s voice seeped into her bones, making her feel safe. she yawned, her breath slow, and paige couldn’t help but feel a wave of tenderness.

“you can sleep, you know,” paige said quietly, brushing her thumb against azzi’s knuckles. “i’ve got you. always.”

azzi nodded, a soft smile on her lips as she drifted off to sleep, her face peaceful and content. paige watched her, her heart full.

she carefully lifted azzi into her arms again, treating her like the most delicate thing in the world. “i’ve got you,” she whispered again, her voice soft but firm.

azzi stirred slightly, looking up at her with sleepy eyes. “are you sure? can you really carry me?”

paige nodded, her arms tightening around azzi. “always,” she said. “always.”

when they reached the car, paige buckled azzi into the seat, leaning in to kiss her forehead, her nose, her knuckles—gentle, intimate moments that spoke louder than words. she promised she’d be right back to get their stuff, but azzi barely noticed. she was already half asleep, her breathing steady and slow.

paige returned to the car, carefully placing the duffel bag in the trunk before wrapping the blanket around azzi’s sleeping form.

as paige started the engine, the familiar hum of the car filled the air, and she plugged in the aux cord. ''about you by 1975'' began to play, and the lyrics seemed to settle around her like a quiet truth. she let the music wash over her, her hand still resting on azzi’s knee as she drove.

her thoughts wandered to the moment she'd carried azzi, picturing it again—lifting her into her arms, crossing the threshold of their future home. it was a vision so clear it felt real, even though it existed only in her head. it wasn’t just about the gesture; it was the quiet certainty that azzi was the one she wanted to protect, to cherish, forever.

the song’s lyrics echoed in her mind, “we get married in our heads.” the thought was a comfort, a secret truth between them. paige thought about azzi every day—how her smile made her heart race, how everything felt right when she was around. it wasn’t about a ceremony, not yet. it was already real in every quiet moment they shared.

the music played on, and paige smiled softly, a quiet promise to herself. maybe one day it wouldn’t just be in their heads. but for now, this—just them, in this moment—was everything

[velarisdusk]

Current Event: 1k Follower Celebration! Upcoming Event: Omegaverse Week 2025! (07/27 - 08/02)! In the Works! (as of 04/24/25)

all of the following are in the order that they were posted (series take precedence, then one shots), most recent at the top. sort by: word count | character | genre

hi!! i'm lyss, 22 from the US. i mostly write acotar reader inserts—usually smutty, often emotional, occasionally unhinged. soft spot for enemies to lovers, and a penchant for turning two-sentence requests into 20k-word fics with their own sets of lore. i write whatever my brain decides to plague my thoughts with for the week. always feel free to drop by my inbox to chat about my writing or literally anything else i love that shit lets talk requests are case-by-case. DMs are open. pls be normal (or fun weird) not weird weird

Wings of Illyria  —   ongoing AU Azriel x Reader | Smut | 13,332 words

tags: personal favorite, band au, modern au, rhys cass and az are in your favorite band. gee, i wonder what i’ll write about y/n and az (not featured yet but I Have Ideas: feysand, nessian, elucien)

Velvet Whispers, Midnight Truths   —   incomplete series, temporarily shelved Azriel x Reader, Eris x Reader | Smut | 14,918 words

tags: y/n does who she wants when she wants

Breaking the Ice — complete series Multicharacter x Reader | Smut | 70,439

tags: hockey au, modern au, established relationship (with cassian), homie-hopping, infidelity, big argument

Before the Thorns Tamlin x Reader | Fluff | 11,111 words read here or on AO3

You met Tamlin when you were five, and every summer after that was his. Years later, you return to Spring and find that he's grown into someone you almost recognize. Almost. But the way he smiles at you? That hasn't changed a bit. tags: friends to lovers, childhood friends, honestly just you and tam having a good time fr

Meant to Stand Cassian x Reader | Smut | 15,717 words read here or on AO3

Rhysand has one request: restore a half-collapsed cabin into something fit for veteran Illyrians. The catch? You'll be doing it with Cassian—and the two of you haven't truly spoken since that mission four years ago. tags: personal favorite, enemies to lovers, only one bed

This Tempest, Ours Rhysand x Reader | Smut | 11,712 words read here or on AO3

On a rare night alone in the House of Wind, the worst storm in decades strikes. It wouldn’t be a problem if they didn’t make you so uneasy. Luckily, the House isn’t as empty as you thought. tags: friends to lovers, comfort, consensual use of daemati, one bed trope but it’s a sleeping bag

Drunk on You Azriel x Reader | Smut | 11,237 words read here or on AO3

You and Azriel were just friends. Then came the dancing. The kiss. The night you stopped pretending. tags: personal favorite, friends to lovers, drunken clubbing with the IC (shenanigans ensue)

A Study in Power Lucien x Reader | Smut | 3,503 words read here or on AO3

You're in the Spring Court, playing the dutiful emissary while navigating its fractured politics. But when your mentor's gaze lingers too long, when his touch strays past propriety, resisting him becomes a far more dangerous game. tags: forbidden romance, power dynamics, lucien is HOT (duh), 1k Celebration fic

Signed, Sealed, Unspoken Rhysand x Reader | Smut | 21,478 words read here or on AO3

Following a long and brutal war, the Dusk Court has finally reclaimed the lands seized by the Night Court generations ago. Yet its new capital, Velaris, remains tangled in the Night Court's intricate trade agreements. Now, negotiations are underway. tags: personal favorite, enemies to lovers, letter-writing, 1k Celebration fic

Ashes Beneath the Sky Azriel x Reader | Hurt / Comfort | 4,783 words read here or on AO3

Rhysand and Feyre call for a mission to ambush the Autumn Court's reinforcements, a dangerous strike in the midst of war. Despite Azriel's insistence that you stay behind, you can't resist sneaking along. tags: enemies to lovers, miscommunications/misunderstandings, big argument, 1k Celebration fic

Something Precious Azriel x Reader | Fluff | 2,095 words read here or on AO3

Azriel has always been steady, unwavering—but the way you look at him makes something shift. Small moments, fleeting words, a tension neither of you acknowledge… until it’s impossible for him to ignore. tags: established relationship, y/n has crippling insecurity

No Room for Error Azriel x Reader | Smut | 1,490 words read here or on AO3

Your heated argument with Azriel during a mission turns into an unexpected, yet not first-time, encounter in a broom closet. tags: azriel + y/n mission, enemies (no lovers but...)

The Hand That Holds Azriel x Reader | Smut | 4,938 words read here or on AO3

You and Azriel visit a bakery in Velaris, but tension rises when your ex-boyfriend tries to provoke him. tags: established relationship, y/n's ex is a jackass, azriel is Not

Cursed Flame Eris x Reader | Smut | 8,008 words read here or on AO3

When Eris Vanserra, heir to the Autumn Court, stumbles into a healer's shop under a mysterious curse, it sets off a chain of events neither could have anticipated. As the skilled healer works to unravel the dark magic threatening his life, tension and attraction crackle between them. tags: healer!y/n, arrogant eris (so just eris)

Shadows at Twilight Nesta & Azriel | Angst | 2,275 words read here or on AO3

Azriel and Nesta's Thursday night smoke sessions become a lifeline. As tensions rise, the fragile balance they've been trying to maintain begins to falter. tags: personal favorite, modern au, stoners!nesta+azriel, anotherdrug!nesta, big argument, not reader-insert, not slash

Beneath the Vines Lucien x Reader | Smut | 6,717 words read here or on AO3

Seeking refuge from court politics in a secluded part of the forest, Lucien meets a female from the Summer Court searching for a hidden spring. He offers to guide her, but their journey takes an unexpected turn when he comes into contact with a mysterious pollen... tags: sex pollen, outdoor sex, gentle (but frenzied make no mistake)

Night Watch Azriel x Reader | Fluff | 384 words read here or on AO3

Your baby is crying in the middle of the night (as they tend to do), but with Azriel, there's no need to stress. tags: az cares for your baby in the night (pls refer to this post i beg you)

Moonlit Waltz Rhysand x Reader | Fluff | 418 words read here or on AO3

Amidst the festivities of the city, you and Rhysand share a quiet dance in the moonlight, surrounded by the magic of the night and the warmth of each other’s gaze. tags: dancing with the stars but the star is rhys and also it's not a show you're just dancing with rhys

Held by a Whisper Tamlin x Reader | Angst | 942 words read here or on AO3

In his final moments, Tamlin grapples with pain and regret as you desperately try to save him. He faces the inevitable with a heart full of unspoken words. tags: personal favorite, war (kinda sucks, death (this sucks too), too little too late yall

Rushing or Dragging Azriel | Angst | 300 words read here or on AO3

Consumed by self-doubt, a driven Azriel pushes himself to the brink in a relentless pursuit of perfection, trapped in an endless cycle of practice and pain. tags: not reader-insert, inspired by whiplash (2014), just seemed like the self-destructive shit az would do tbh

Current Event: 1k Follower Celebration! Upcoming Event: Omegaverse Week 2025! (07/27 - 08/02)

Completed Events: Kinktober 2024 SJM x Reader Week 2025!

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-Three

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Angst, some suggestiveness

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

There was stillness. A few hesitant gasps. A churning inside your chest like an ocean brewing up a storm. Pieces of Koschei fluttered in the air, landing on your skin like bits of ash until all that was left were the chains of teeth spooled on the ground in bizarre memory of the death god who’d worn them. 

“Y/n,” Azriel gasped out, struggling to his knees. Sweat lined his brow and dripped from his temples. Blood flaked off his caramel skin like rust.

You could smell the iron on him and identify which stains belonged to which fae warrior. You could tell from one breath how they’d died. The dark mark on his thigh had come from a Spring court nymph run through with a snapped femur bone. The splatter on his cheek came from the Winter court Spymaster who’d been beheaded protecting his High Lord. There were a dozen marks for a dozen bodies, and you could hear their last words echo in your ears.

And there were prayers — so many prayers — being spoken and whispered and screamed throughout the world. Funeral songs. The sounds of weeping and twisted-tongue prophecies all competing to drown out the pleasant hum of the mating bond. 

Your skin boiled. The winter chill struck your body and let off steam. You looked down at your hands and saw your palms begin to crack and splinter, light pouring outward just as Ione’s had. Suddenly, you didn’t feel so powerful. 

Azriel sank his sword into the ground, dragging himself to his feet.

Don’t let her go into the mirror. Elain had warned him. She may not come out. 

Her haunting words froze Azriel to the core. He’d tried to decipher her prophecy, but vague and misleading as they could be, he’d let her warning fade into the background. Now that he was here, it was so painfully clear.

Don’t let her go into the lake. 

But he had let you go…and you’d gone for him. 

To protect him. 

To save him. 

Because you loved him. 

Now he needed to do everything in his power to save you. 

The world was a sharper place. Colors shook on different wavelengths. The air was tainted by new flavors. You could hear it when a human boy a thousand miles away coughed and breathed his last. You could hear his mother’s weeping as his body went cold. 

But worst of all, when you looked your father and Lucien in the eye as they propped each other up, you could see their deaths as clear as the clouds in the sky. As if their futures had been inked onto their cheekbones. It was a bloody end, as would befall all High Lords. 

You were afraid to look at Azriel when he finally staggered over to you, all but collapsing in his arms. He brought you both to the ground, drawing you into his lap and cradling your face like you were the most precious thing in the world. Fingertips glossed over your temples. Across your cheeks. Over your hot and cracked lips that spilled starlight over his hands. 

“Az—” You whispered, tears dotting your eyes and slipping down your cheeks in paths of gold. “I’m sorry—” 

“Don’t you dare,” Azriel all but growled. “You are not dying on me today.” He grabbed onto the bond, holding you to this plane of existence with desperation. Like a kite about to drift away. It was through the bond that you heard a smaller, more frightened voice beg, “Don’t leave me here alone.”

You were his mate. His mate. This male who’d become your best friend and your home was now your mate. You could have lived a thousand lifetimes with him and been happy. But no amount of time would have left you satisfied. You would have always been greedy for more. 

Another minute. Another second. 

You coughed and the blood that dribbled down your chin was liquid gold. 

Was this all you’d be given? A handful of confusing months and less than an hour together? A mating bond left incomplete? 

You wondered if this was how Bethsevah had felt when she’d consumed this power. Whether the same stubbornness had compelled her to hold on so that Koschei’s magic might die with her, or whether her promise to Thanatos to live and have her children had finally convinced her to let go and bury what remained in the lake.  

But the lake was no longer an option. In order to kill Koschei you had transformed the very nature of the magic you’d consumed until it belonged to you. You felt it inside your chest — inside your very soul. It was yours. And it was killing you. Like a flame that would soon run out of fuel to burn.

“You’ll be ok, won’t you?” You asked, leaning your head against his chest. You heard his heart beat frantically in your ears and for a moment, the rush of blood through his veins helped dim the choir of weeping and singing. Even now, Azriel was bringing you peace simply by existing. 

Helion and Lucien looked to Azriel as he held you, silently begging him to do something. 

Anything.

“Azriel,” you gasped, eyes fluttering, “It hurts.” 

“I know, Y/n, please just hold on a little while longer,” Azriel begged as more cracks appeared up your arms and across your chest, unfurling like leaves in spring. 

He scrambled to think of something as the bond roared with desperation. You would know what to do in his position. If your mind weren’t being driven to madness by a thousand voices you would have come up with a solution ages ago. You with your brilliant theories and your Librarian training and— 

Azriel choked, angry tears dripping from his eyes onto your cheeks where they crackled and turned to steam. 

You were his best friend. 

His home. 

His mate.

His mate. 

His—

“I always thought that mating bonds must be some special extension of that. Magic that’s not the same, but perfectly complementary.” 

“Like the difference between two sets of keys, versus a key and a lock.”

“Maybe? I suppose that’s not a terrible analogy to make, but I’m not sure.” You’d shot him a smile more radiant than the sun, “You’re beginning to think like a Librarian, Azriel.” 

Azriel saw the bond stretching before him like a bridge of moonbeam on a cloudless night. It looked like a future where he would always be wanted. Always be loved.

He hadn’t taken you to the seasides of Summer. He hadn’t brought you to meet his mother. He’d never asked for your hand in marriage or seen you in a wedding dress or accepted the bond. All things he so desperately wanted to do. 

All things he wanted a chance to do right. 

He saw the bond stretching before him, and barreled down with only one thought in mind: he would not lose you today. 

It was difficult work crossing the bond before it had been accepted. At times the path felt secure beneath his feet. Sometimes it felt at risk of disappearing entirely. But you were waiting for him. He’d never forgiven himself for that night at the Alcove when he’d arrived late and the wards had already gone up. He didn’t want to be late a second time. 

Your mind was composed of endless library stacks — a maze to keep your thoughts secret instead of walls of impenetrable adamant — but Azriel found his way. Bond or no bond, he still knew you like the back of his hand. 

When his soul reached yours, you were a flickering light crushed under the weight of your own magic. Pulsing and twisting and fighting to hang on. He caressed your soul, brought you peace of a kind you didn’t know was possible, and began to strip away those layers of light.

He bundled them up and dove down into the deepest recesses of your mind. Memories of the past flew by — painful, haunting, lonely. Full of crippling worries and undying hope for something more. It pressed against him from all sides until he finally came across something safe. Something frozen in time. A distant memory that had remained untouched for centuries. There he constructed a well, burying your powers behind walls of shadow and adamant and bricks of cobalt blue. 

Piece-by-piece he stored away your power until the light faded from your skin and you were no longer dying in his arms. 

He heard your weak voice, felt your soul flare like a struck match as you took your first clear breath, before beginning the long trek from the place where he’d hidden your power and back into his own body. 

He jerked to attention. Twin gasps left your lungs as you clung to one another. Your skin cooled and stitched itself together, leaving behind pale scars that feathered down your body like ferns. The world was far too silent now. The singing. The prayers. The screams. They were all gone. 

Until you heard Azriel whimper, “Y/n.” It was just a name. Your name. But it was also a prayer of its own. A quiet song of relief as he crashed over you like a great wave, burying his face against your chest as he began to shake. “Gods, Y/n, I thought I was going to lose you.” 

You shook your head, looping your arms around his neck and trembling from the sobs that wracked through his body. 

He closed his wings around you, blocking out the sights and sounds of the world as the others left to gather the dead. In this place — in his arms — you were safe. Your skin no longer crawled with fever and death. You could breathe and taste the air as it was. Nothing more. Nothing less. There was only the haggard rhythms of Azriel’s chest as he regained control of his breathing.

The sound of whispered promises.

Words of love.

The smell of cold wind and cedar wood.

Nearly an hour later, Azriel finally let you go for long enough to accept the cloak Helion draped over your shoulders, and a long embrace from your father and Lucien. 

“Never do anything so stupid again,” Lucien warned, squeezing you tightly. Your skin was still burnt and sensitive, but worth the spine-cracking hug. 

“It wasn’t stupid actually, it was a stroke of brilliance.” 

“Let’s not joke just yet,” Helion said, his voice strangled. 

Azriel appeared to be in agreement, quickly gathering you under the curve of his wings. You sighed deeply, nuzzling into his side and wishing he would take you far away from here. If you asked, Azriel would have flown away with you in an instant, his own exhaustion be damned. But that new power was humming in your veins. Azriel had locked much of it away, but not all of it. And as you knew all too well, power demanded release. 

You looked at Azriel — at your mate — noting his bloodshot eyes and the deep shadows beneath them.

“Azriel, you should—” 

“I’m not leaving you,” He croaked. His hazel eyes flashed with fear, his grip around your waist tightening as if to fuse himself to your side.

“You can barely stand.” 

His eyes softened, pleading. “Don’t ask me to stay away right now, Y/n. Please.” 

And so he followed. Azriel never left your side as you roamed the woods, gold-trimmed cloak trailing behind you. 

One by one, you stripped away the spells that had survived Koschei’s death. You were a new and welcome guest within these woods. They’d been left to rot and ruin for too long, like an abandoned house with boarded up windows and sheets laid down over the furniture. You swept off the sheets and tore open the windows. Over a thousand years these woods had laid in darkness. You finally let the light in.

The bones that had been pulled from the earth were laid to rest for good. You cleaned and preserved the bodies that had recently joined the dead, and when you reached the blindspot where Ione and Techaria had died, you took the pieces of Ione and fused her back together until she just looked like a young woman sleeping amongst the trees.

There was nothing left of Techaria for you to bury. 

Viviane would not allow you anywhere near Kallias, and so you let her attend to her mate and her grief in privacy. 

Then, you went in search of the firebird. 

Lucien was already with her, draping his cloak over her shivering, bloody form. She lay in silence, cradled in the pocket of earth she’d landed in after Viviane had cut through her wings with blades of ice. She croaked mournfully, twisting on the ground to gaze upon you with her beady eyes. With a few careful touches you drew away the curse like a curtain until she was a maiden once again, soot-stained but unharmed. 

Lucien wrapped her in the cloak, soothing her trembling cries as she called out for Jurian. But she was only met with silence. 

Hours later, you all stood by the edges of what was once a lake, carrying the dead and wounded alike in makeshift stretchers or folded neatly within gentle arms. 

Cassian had his left arm thrown around Nesta, his figure pale and crooked. His right arm stuck out awkwardly, bloodied rags wrapped tightly around the stump. 

Rhysand, prideful and stubborn as he was, refused to be carried on a stretcher. Instead, he limped, propped up on one side by Feyre and on the other side by Helion. Eris did the same, guarded by the remaining true-born sons of Autumn. Tarquin was more practical. He let his men carry him and the broken remains of his shield. Viviane was the last of their procession and carried her husband’s frost-coated body. Her tears dripped down her cheeks and froze there. 

At the sight of the High Lady of Winter, Azriel thrummed the bond. He wanted proof you were alive. 

You tugged at it gently and he tugged back with a small exhale of breath.

“Is it time to go home now?” You asked him. 

He caressed your cheek, and the bond, eyes shining. You shivered beneath both touches. 

“Yes, my love, it’s time to go home.” 

All those who could winnow pulled together the scraps of their power, the promise of home so tempting they would have swum across the ocean if needed. 

The fabric of the universe folded in half and everyone stepped through, leaving behind a wasteland decimated from battle and centuries under Koschei’s oppressive power. 

You promised yourself that you would never return, and would keep to that promise. But the next time anyone from Prythian or the Continent gathered enough courage to step foot on the grave of a death god, they would find that everything had changed. Life would find its way once more, and the only things that walked that ground would stand firmly on the side of the living. 

You jerked awake, hands clawing at your scalp as you remembered the power that had burned you from the inside out. It still weighed heavily in your chest — both the locked and unlocked portions — serving as a reminder that your magic was changed now. Touched by death like ink spilled over a book page. 

Azriel wasn’t asleep. He hadn’t slept since you’d arrived in Prythian and immediately collapsed in his arms, choosing to keep watch over you until you finally woke up. 

He was quick to wrap you in his arms and sent all his reassurance and love down the bond. You twitched in his hold. Dug your fingers into his chest so you could feel the beating of his heart. 

“Shhhhh, I’m here, Y/n. You’re alright. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he breathed into the crown of your hair. 

The bed you were in wasn’t yours, and it was too lush to be Azriel’s. You were drowning in opulence and silk. A far cry from the comfortable simplicity of Azriel’s deep colored walls and blue bed sheets and it felt wrong.

The downy feather pillows were covered in the vibrant turquoise, purples, and reds of the Dawn Court, which Azriel confirmed when he explained, “You were so exhausted you passed out the moment we were back in Prythian. We all decided to stay so Thesan could attend to you, Cass, and Rhys.” 

“How long?” You croaked out. Your tongue lay dry and heavy in your mouth. Like someone had shoved cotton down your throat. 

“Three days.”

That would explain the film over your teeth. But someone had bathed you since then. You smelled clean. A hint of lavender soap clung to your skin and hair, and the spare shirt you’d been tucked into smelled of night-chilled mist and cedar. 

There was no blood. No dirt. Nothing. 

If it weren’t for the fern-like scars snaking up and down your body and death’s mark on your powers, you might have believed it was all a dream. 

But there was another clue… or rather the absence of a clue. 

Azriel’s shadows were missing. He looked naked without them twisting around his wings and across his shoulders. 

“Your shadows they’re…” You were at a loss. 

Azriel winced. “They’re still gone.” 

Gone. Not dead or destroyed. Just… gone. 

“Do you think they’ll come back?”

“I don’t know.” It was the uncertainty that was eating away at him. “I can still hear their voices muffled like echoes in the distance, but I haven’t felt them since Koschei…” His words trailed off and he held you impossibly close. 

He hadn’t been born with his shadows, but they’d been by his side for all the years that mattered. Losing them had felt like losing a piece of himself. 

“Were you hurt elsewhere?” You asked, frantically running your fingers up and down his bare chest and back in search of new scars beneath your fingertips. 

“A few bruises here and there and a couple of scratches, but they’re gone now.”

“And the others?”

Azriel looked down at you and grief made the words come out slow. “Rhysand will never fly again and Cassian won’t be the warrior he once was.”

The words slammed into your chest, crushing the breath from your lungs in a strangled gasp. 

You didn’t know what to say. 

Rhysand had rarely shown his wings, preferring to hide what was truly important to him so that it might not be taken away. But he loved flying. He never smiled so wide as when he and Feyre would gather Nyx and Velaria into their arms and shoot off into the night sky until they’d become one with the stars. 

And Cassian… he was a warrior through and through. He may as well have been born with a sword and shield in his hands. 

Azriel tucked his fingers beneath your chin. “They’re alive. That’s what I say we focus on.” 

Because what else was there to say? 

You took his scarred hand in yours, tracing the grooves and valleys along the palms. 

You raised your arm, slipping your hands into a ray of light that spilled through the window and pooled across Azriel’s chest. Lightning shaped scars wound down your shoulder to the palms of your hands, catching the shimmering light along the newly healed scar tissue. 

“We’re matching,” You whispered, sliding your hand into his like it belonged there. 

Azriel’s heart stuttered in his chest and might have given out if you hadn’t kissed him then. It was a hungrier, wilder kiss than he was used to receiving from you. More desperate. As if you wanted to take the air from his lungs just to prove he was breathing. 

He pulled away when your hands drifted to his waist and then further down, gently taking your wrists and pinning them by your sides. 

“Y/n, you don’t want this. Not now.” 

But you did want this. Even if your hands were shaking and your heart was racing uncomfortably. 

It wasn’t how you’d imagined it would go. It wasn’t the ideal fantasy you’d read about thousands of times with a bed covered in rose petals and candles to light up the dark. But it was something. It was Azriel. And you were afraid that you’d wake up tomorrow and find that it was all a dream. Or that some other danger lurked around the corner, waiting for its moment to steal your mate from you. 

You couldn’t have that. You wouldn’t have that. Not when there were still so many things you wanted to do with him. 

You struggled to free your hands, terror rising in your chest at the realization that you’d nearly lost him. The bond had snapped in place and he’d almost died immediately after. What would you have been left with if Azriel had been taken from you? Memories spanning a handful of months and a gaping hole in your life? One half of a bond never realized? Another 300-hundred years alone? 

He rolled over on top of you, bracing his arms by your head and gently smoothing back your hair. He whispered for you to just breathe. 

It was the closest you’d ever gotten to one another.

“How long have you known? Why didn’t you tell me?” You begged him for answers, tears streaming down your cheeks. It was clear from the moment the bond snapped into place that Azriel had known far longer than you had. It was written all over his face now — some mixture of shame and longing. A secret that had been kept hidden for too long.

“I’ve known since the night I met you. Since the moment you called me Azriel the Shadowsinger I’ve known. But I didn’t tell you because I wanted to do things right. I wanted you to love me. I wanted us to take our time.” You started to cry even harder and Azriel felt a piece of his heart crack. “Maybe I took too long.” 

He kissed your eyelids, smoothing away the tears with his lips before they could drip down your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Y/n. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier and I’m sorry I frightened you but… but when we do this, I don’t want you to be afraid. I don’t want to be in a stranger’s home or for you to be scared I’ll be gone in the morning.” 

“Then promise me,” you begged, tears streaming down your cheeks, “Promise me you’re really here. Promise me we’ll have more time together.” 

“I’m here, Y/n,” Azriel breathed. “And I swear to you, we will have all the time in the world.” 

Maybe it wasn’t a promise he could keep — the gods knew there were some forces beyond his control — but still, he made the promise over and over again with every belief that he could keep it. He whispered those words against your forehead, against your lips, and against your heart until you stopped shaking. 

He would tear down mountains and move the very stars in the sky for more time with you. 

There was untapped grief that would need to be spoken about and new futures to be arranged. But right now, you and Azriel chose to lay together in silence. It was a quiet sharing of things that couldn’t be spoken, but also couldn’t be carried alone. 

You still had each other. 

You’d both survived.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

Y'all I remain hesitant about the ending of this chapter, but you know what, I'm going to let it stand. Nothing I write can be as weird as some of the questionable smut scenes SJM includes in her books (*cough cough* Feyre should not be giving blowjobs to the sounds of people dying on a battlefield). Like...

Anyhow, thank you to everyone who has stuck around with me and this fic after 100k words (and yeah, we hit 100k words like two chapters back without me realizing!)

[sarawritestories]

can I request an Az x reader fic with lots of hurt/comfort vibes? maybe they are out on the town and they run into the readers ex who was not very nice to her and she gets scared and az goes into protective mode? thanks thanks thanks!!

My Wife. My Mate. My World

Azriel X Plus Size F Reader

A/N: Thank you for this request! This just felt fitting to have as a plus size reader I hope that's okay! This is also my first time writing for Az and I hope I did him justice for you!

Summary: Azriel and You are in your home Court of the Summer Court. When you run into your ex, the confidence you spent a long time building was shredded and your Mate was more than happy to remind you how amazing you were.

Content Warning: 18+ Minors DNI, Depictions of verbal abuse and slight (Briefly), slight fat shaming, low self esteem, fluffy ending

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.6k words

It was a beautiful day in your home court, Summer Court, your hair was up in a curly bun and a loose cobalt dress that had a crisscross design on the front and two high slits. The dress accentuated your curves and was one of your favorites. You didn’t bother with jewelry as shadows were always swirling around your arms and in the blazing summer heat their cool touch was a welcome reprieve.  A Hand wrapped around your waist as you walked through the beach, “I love you, in Night Court attire, but you are a goddess in Summer Court dresses.” Azriel whispered causing you to giggle.

“Azriel, you have said that when we are in every other court except for the Spring Court, and you also say that I am a goddess with no clothes on at all.” I tuck myself into his side, “I’m beginning to think I could wear garbage and you would call me a goddess.”

Azriel kissed the top of your head. “You would make quite divine garbage, Angel.” You rolled your eyes and elbowed him though he was quick and gripped your arm spinning you around while simultaneously taking your legs out from under you with his own. The next thing you knew your back was pressed against the warm sand and the shadowsinger was on top of you pinning your arms above your head with one hand. His wings flared up to block the sun rays, so you weren’t squinting. He had a playful smirk on his face, “Violence is never the answer, my love.” There was a twinkle in his eye as his face lowered to yours.

“Says one of the most feared spymaster and warrior in all of Prythian.” You murmured before his lips were on yours. The kiss makes your toes curl but every kiss he gives you has that effect ever since your first date, it only intensified when the mating bond snapped for both of you. He slipped his tongue in your mouth, and you moaned and arched your back yearning for more friction.  He pulled away causing you to groan in protest. He chuckled and pushed off you standing and dusting the sand off his knees.  You glared at him, “You’re cruel, Shadowsinger,” he laughed and held out his hand, you grasped it the scars bringing comfort on your skin.

Azriel lifted you up and gripped your waist bringing you close kissing your nose, “Listen I’m not trying to get a bloodstone because of public nudity. Rhys would kill us both.” His hand grazed down to your plump ass and squeezed, “When we get home though,” he continued to grope and, in a flash, slapped your tender flesh causing you to gasp as his lips grazed the shell of your ear, “I will happily show you how cruel I can be.”

You could feel the heat rise from your neck to your cheeks, “Is that a promise?”

He was about to respond when a familiar voice rang in your ears, “Y/N? Is that you?” Your body stilled and shadows swirled around my body anxious from the shift. You turned and were met with a familiar set of eyes. The male was in the Summer Court army uniform his gold skin compliment

You pulled away from Azriel and he let you to fully face your ex, “Micah, what a pleasant surprise.” You gave him a grin, but Azriel as he moved to your side his wings tucked in tightly.

Micah gave you a tight lip smile, “For sure, I heard you were in the throws of the Night Court.” He looked over to where your mate his cold assessing gaze.  Azriel’s relaxed demeaner shifted, he widened his legs, crossed his arms and made sure that one wing curved around you.

Micah opened his mouth and with a familiar glint in his eye you gripped Azriel’s arm. “Where are my manners? Micah, this is Azriel, my mate. Az, this is Micah, an old friend of mine.” Rage flared briefly in his gaze at your choice of words. “Darling, could you give us a minute?” you looked over at my mate, who’s hazel eyes met yours his brow quirked, “Just going to catch up, I’ll meet you at the café, okay?” Azriel met Micah’s gaze who puffed his chest out and you rolled your eyes.

Azriel pressed his lips to your forehead. “You sure?” he whispered, you gave him a nod and he gripped your face in your hands, and he crushed his lips to yours letting the kiss linger for a minute longer, and with a wary glance over the other male, he made a few stepped backs and took to the skies. A cool shadow still swirled around your wrist sliding up your arm and around your neck.

Micah held out an arm and I slipped my hand through his I felt his hand instantly flexed. “So, you fuck vermin now?” I scowled at him, and he laughed and continued, “You really had to scrape the bottom of the barrel, huh?”

You gritted my teeth, “Watch your fucking mouth, Micah,” trying to focus on your feet sinking into the sand.

Micah proceeded, “Why did you leave, Y/N?” He feigned sadness and you saw right through it. “We were so good together.” He took a moment to look me up and down, “Though you, don’t look nearly as radiant as you did when you were sinking into my cock.” His arm moved and snaked around my waist, his hand gripped the flesh and my body tensed. “They clearly do not treat you the way you deserved. With discipline.” I didn’t even notice my shadow fleeing.

You closed your eyes and tried block out his words, but you were sent back to that time before the Night Court took you in.

“Get out of my house,” Micah gritted out. The blonde soldier in his bed scrambled to get clothes on as the male placed his arms behind his head arrogance seeping out of his pores as the female fled and bumped into you fleeing the house you shared. “Enjoy the show, Princess.”

You wanted to be heartbroken by this, but you had suspected him of being unfaithful. I crossed my arms and leaned on the door frame, “How long?”

He snorted and decided to rise from the bed, “Does it matter? You’re not going to leave.”

Anger began to bubble up, “Oh really? Why is that?”

Micah approached with predatory grace and gripped my chin tightly. “Because I’m the only one who will give you the time of day. I mean you and I both know you’re plain looking,” He looked down at my body, “Your body is subpar, and you are lucky that I put up with you.” He pressed his thumb that smelled of the female he was with on my bottom lip and propped my mouth open. I knew what he wanted me to do. “You going to be a good girl or are we going to need to punish you.” I closed my mouth over his thumb and sucked, tears did fall of humiliation. He pressed a kiss to my forehead, “So here is what’s going to happen, you are going to be my pretty little doll for all events, and we’ll go on dates, and I will fuck anyone in our shared bed I please.”

A hand patting my cheek brought me back to the present, “Ah, good you’re back.” Micah smirked. “Were you thinking about me, Princess.” Uncomfort began to settle in my bones, and I sent that feeling down the bond as Micah pinned me against his chest.

With a thud and a cloud of sand blue siphons radiated through the smoke. Emerging from the cloud Azriel’s shadows swirled around and ready to attack. Rage filled those hazel eyes of his. “Get. Your. Hands. Off. Her. Now.” His voice was ethereal the shadows giving it a haunting cadence and it entranced you.

 Micah only tightened his grip on the order, and you yelped Azriel snarled. “Well look at that, Y/N you found someone who would be willing to kill, for your mediocrity.” You flinched as you met the shadowsinger’s eyes. His Hazel irises softened as he watched the verbal blow land. Though in a flash they steeled into calm rage as shadows leaked from his body and wrapped around you again bringing comfort.

Micah ignored the lethal man in front of him, “I mean maybe your Cunt is not so medio-“Azriel’s fist collided with the male’s face and he released his gripped on you. You wrapped your arms around Azriel’s neck and inhaled his scent.

“I got here as quickly as I could,” The High Lord of the Summer Court’s voice broke through the chaos on the beach. “Y/N, are you okay?” You turned to face him, Azriel’s hand splayed across your stomach soft circles rubbing my stomach.

“I’m fine, Asshole never knew when to shut up.” You muttered, your brows furrowed, “How did you know?”

“Azriel’s shadows alerted us something was wrong with one of our Soldiers and a member of a different court.”

You leaned into Azriel’s chest his hand holding you protectively, your head resting at his shoulder, “You never went to the café did you,” his shadows sputtered around me as if trying to confirm my theory.

He pressed his lips on your hair line, “The shadows that love you so much didn’t trust him, so I didn’t go far.”  He looked at Tarquin, “Will he be taken care of?”

Tarquin nodded, “Yes he will, we don’t take lightly to our soldiers manhandling civilians, especially when they hail from a different Court.” He looked at you, “I know this was once your home, I always want you to feel welcome here. I’m so sorry for Micah’s behavior.”

You crossed my arms around my body, “Micah has always been like that, but I appreciate you handling this for me.”

Tarquin nodded and walked to the other sentries that were hauling a knocked-out Micah away.

Azriel nuzzled his nose in your neck taking in your scent, “Would you like to go home?” He whispered.

               You closed my eyes, “Please.” Azriel pressed his lips to your neck and shadows erupted around the two of you and then you were in our town home that you built after you had your mating ceremony.

You pulled away from your mate and gave him a tight smile, “I’m going to hop in the bath get the sand out.”

Azriel smiled, “Want me to join you, worship you like the goddess you are.”

You shook your head, “Sorry, my love, I’m not in the mood.” You cupped his face and gave his free cheek a kiss.

He furrowed his brow and watched as you walked to your shared room and went into the bathroom.  In a few moments’ time you were in the bathtub and thinking back to everything Micah had said.

Your body is subpar, and you are lucky that I put up with you.

Did Azriel feel that way?

You’re plain looking.

Azriel always said you were his goddess, was he lying. Micah always lied and told me how beautiful I was.

Hours went by and you barely moved out of the bath and there was a soft knock on the door, Azriel poked his head in as you were staring at your knees. “Angel.” The spymaster walked into the room, closing the door behind him, and leaned against it. “You’ve been in here for hours.” You met his gaze, and he inhaled sharply as he felt worthlessness down the bond. In only a few strides he was by your side and gripping your hand, “Talk to me.”

Tears began to resurface as you faced your mate, “I’m sorry, Az.”

Azriel’s brows furrowed. “For what?” He was stroking the top of your hand with his thumb.

“For not being a good enough mate for you.” Azriel’s eyes flashed with pain but were gone in an instant. “You deserve someone better than me.” Tears were falling down your face and your breathing began to quicken, “I’m not worth-“

Azriel gripped the back of your neck and pressed your forehead against his and your eyes fluttered closed. “Shhh, enough of that.” He pressed a kiss on your forehead that was so tender, and he sent love down the bond like a caress on your soul. “Let’s get you clean up.” Azriel grabbed soap and a rag and began washing your body and massaging your hair. He was whispering sweet little nothings in your ear as he cleaned the sand and dirt from the day.

When he was done, he helped you out of the tub and wrapped you in a towel, his shadows bringing in your favorite nightgown that was the same blue as Azriel’s siphons. “Arms up.” You lifted your arms, tears still flowing down your cheeks.

Once the nightgown hugs your skin you wrap your arms around yourself, and the cool touch of the shadows yank my arms apart and your brows furrowed. “They don’t like you hiding,” His hands met yours and the comfort of his scars kissing your skin the shadows slithering between both of your hands. “I don’t like it either.”

He led you to your shared bedroom and led you to the full-length mirror. His shadows swirling around your neck and through your hair giving you some light kisses. He rubbed the top of your arms and left soft kisses on your bare shoulder. His hazel eyes met yours in the mirror, “Tell me, Angel, what do you see?”

You took a deep shaky breath, “I see me.” He casts a look toward you, causing you to bite your lip. “I see a plain, large woman who isn’t a warrior like Feyre or Nesta, Or beautiful like Gwyn or Elain.”

Azriel wrapped his arms around your torso, his fingers digging into your soft skin and gave your shoulder a soft bite, eliciting a moan from you. “You want to know what I see?” I nod and he presses you closer to his chest and sways back and forth as he looks at your reflection. “I see a strong female, that fought and lived though a war. I see a kindhearted female, who took it upon herself to make her best friend’s mate comfortable just so she didn’t feel alone,” You smile thinking of the first time you met Ferye. “I see a loving female, who saw the mangled hands of a broken male and decided to kiss every scare telling him that you want to place good memories on those scars to erase the bad ones.”

Your hand founds his and gave him a squeeze as tears streamed down before he turned you around to face him, he tucked the wet strands of hair behind your ear, “I see a female, who is powerful because she was brave enough to leave an abusive situation with someone who did not appreciate or respect all the amazing things, I adore about you.” He wiped the tears from your cheeks and kissed you passionately for a moment and when he pulls away, he keeps your face close to his. “I love you, Y/N. Your smile almost made me fall to my knees in praise.” You laughed and you could see his eyes light up at the sound. “My Wife, My Mate, my world, is anything but mediocre. You are amazing and I thank the Cauldron everyday that it brought you to me.” He kissed your nose, “My beautiful.” A kiss to my lips, “Kind,” Another kiss, “Passionate,” another kiss, “Sexy,” he growled, and I smiled, “Mate.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, “I love you, Az.” You kissed his lips and Azriel’s hands slid down to grip your plump ass, “Now I do recall you saying something about worshiping me-“ You couldn’t finish your statement before Azriel scooped you in his arms and put you to your bed and spent all night showing you just how amazing he thought you were.

[cosmic-whispers]

Find Out - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel overhears a conversation you have with your friends where you admit your feelings for him. When he decides to confront you, he finds you in a rather compromising position. 

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: kind of a creepy, pervy Az (lol, he watches reader touch herself), secondhand embarrassment, SMUT (oral-both, shadow play hehe)

A/N: ngl, writing has been tough lately. I feel like I’m just trying to push words out and it’s taking forever to get anything out. Anyways, this is cute, I guess, but still not sure how I feel about it. This was inspired by a request i got.  I hope you enjoy 6.7k works of Azriel just buffering and being a mess and a little bit of a creep (but we can’t stop loving him). Also, this is nasty. Enjoy!

The light, crisp breeze of the summer evening caressed your cheeks and gently blew your hair back as you made your way down the streets of Velaris. The setting sun set the world alight in golden hues and you cherished the last rays of sun as you made your way home to the Townhouse. 

Nesta, Emorie, and Gwyn had invited you to your first official girls night with them and the excitement had been building since earlier that morning. Having known the Inner Circle for less than two months, you were filled with appreciation at your new friends’ kindness to include you. You had finished their book recommendation and came prepared with an extensive list of notes about the characters, the romance, and the spice. You were promised a fun night full of delicious wine and riveting conversations.

You approached the house, the excitement adding a spring to your step. You were ready to relax and have fun, it had been entirely too long and you had been working entirely too hard. The rustle of flapping wings caught your attention and you turned, watching as Azriel descended from the sky, clad in his leathers and shadows swimming around him. Your heart fluttered in your chest as he landed in front of you, wings spread magnificently behind him and his siphons bathing him in a gentle blue light. 

You smiled at him as he approached you and he offered you a tired grin in return. 

“Hello, Azriel,” you said, looking up at him as he stood before you. “Welcome back.”

“It’s good to be back,” he said. His deep voice and the way his eyes remained on yours made heat rise to your face and you had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from admitting just how much you missed him. He had been away for the last two weeks on a mission from Rhysand, and it was too long of a time to go without his kindness and soft smiles. 

He leaned down towards you and pulled you close, his arms wrapping around your waist and giddy excitement spread through you. Your own hands wrapped around his shoulders and he heaved a sigh, burrowing his face into the side of your neck. You knew he could hear the rapid pounding of your heart and were grateful that he didn’t mention it. 

“I missed you,” he mumbled into your neck. His warm breath spread across your skin and you shuddered in his arms, engulfed entirely in him and the scent of cedar and mist. You wished you could stay in his arms forever. 

“I missed you, too,” you admitted. He let go of you, straightening his spine, and took a step away from you. Tendrils of shadows brushed against your bare arms, making you giggle until their master reeled them back in. He began walking with you the rest of the way to the Townhouse. 

“I hope these past two weeks without me have not been too hard on you,” he teased, gently bumping your shoulder. 

“It’s been dreadful. Rhysand and Nesta won’t leave me alone without my favorite shadowsinger there to protect me.”

“I believe I’m the only shadowsinger you know.” He smiled playfully at you, his eyes shining with amusement. You smiled back at him, taking the opportunity to admire just how breathtaking Azriel was when he was relaxed and smiling. 

“You're in a good mood,” you commented. “I take it your mission went well?”

“Yes, surprisingly,” he commented, although he did not elaborate further. 

You decided to press your luck. Curiosity ruled you, and you wondered why Rhysand had you research cult organizations within the continent. You pondered whether that was something that Azriel was sent to handle.  “Why did Rhys send you all the way to Montesere?”

“Careful, I might begin suspecting you're a spy sent to infiltrate Velaris,” he teased, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. If you hadn’t known him as well as you did, the slight flicker of amusement in the corner of his lips may have gone completely unnoticed. 

“Oh, no, you’ve discovered my evil plot. Is the big, bad Spymaster going to take me to his dungeon?”

You teased him, but the sudden image of you chained in his torture chamber, fully nude, and being punished in rather enjoyable ways flashed through your mind and you nearly gasped out loud. 

He leaned down close to your ear and murmured, “keep teasing me, and I just might need to.” His deep, gravelly voice echoed pleasantly in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and adding fuel to the images filtering through your mind. You struggled to formulate a coherent response and gratefulness filled you as you made it to the Townhouse. 

He smirked as he opened the door for you, allowing you to enter the home before following after you. You took two steps before being intercepted by your friend. Nesta was smirking at you as she noticed the Illyrian behind you. Although you had never admitted your feelings to her, Nesta had quickly guessed your infatuation with the bat boy trailing behind you. She had tried encouraging you to pursue him but you had always turned her ideas down knowing that he did not feel the same for you. 

“Welcome back, Azriel,” she said and he nodded at her in thanks. 

“(Y/N),” she said, shifting her attention back to you, “I was going to ask what took you so long, but I think I’ve got a pretty good idea now.” Her gaze shifted back to Azriel and you glared at her. 

“I lost track of time in the city library,” you said, defending yourself against her. 

“Right.” 

Azriel still lingered behind you and Nesta shifted her attention back to him. “She’s mine tonight, Spymaster. Find someone else to spend your time with. It’s her first girl’s night and I won’t let anyone interrupt. We’re going to get her to spill all her dirty secrets!”

“Nesta!” you exclaimed, laughing at your friend’s enthusiasm.

“Good luck, (Y/N),” Azriel said and you glanced back up at him. He winked at you and you felt heat rise to your cheeks and ears. 

“Thanks, I have a strong suspicion that I’ll need it.”

“You’re both being very dramatic. All she needs is some good alcohol in her system,” Nesta said, taking your arm and pulling you away from the Shadowsinger and into the living room. You glanced back at him one last time, catching his honey gaze. Butterflies erupted in your stomach when he smiled at you and you gave him a quick wave, quickly turning your attention to Emorie and Gwyn, who waited for you with excited smiles on their faces. 

—--------*-----------

Sleep would not claim Azriel. The time neared midnight and despite the gathering downstairs, the house was quiet. He had bathed, washing the grime off and felt infinitely better. Yet, when he laid down, he found himself wide awake, rushing thoughts infiltrating his mind. Thoughts of you infiltrated his mind full speed. He could not stop thinking about you, and the ache that he felt in his heart every time he saw you. He tried to drown the image of you smiling by concentrating on thoughts of his successful mission and all the useful information he had gathered, but his concentration would wane entirely too quickly back to you. 

He decided on a midnight snack, hoping something sweet and perhaps a boring book would lull him to sleep. He descended the stairs silently, pajama pants hanging lowly on his hips and his bare chest exposed. 

He made his way toward the kitchen, steps as silent as the night, until your sweet laugh stopped him short. 

“Pour her more wine!” he heard Emorie exclaim and the sound of liquid pouring into glass followed. 

“Come on, (Y/N),” Nesta teased. “I already know you have a crush on him. You just have to admit it to all of us.”

His heart stopped in his chest, shock washing over him like ice water. You had feelings for someone? A ripple of anger surged through him as he imagined this unknown, faceless male that had stolen his mate away from him.

He had felt nothing but utter bliss the moment that the bond had snapped for him. You had been working with Rhysand and Amren researching ancient scrolls for a week and he had just returned from a brief stint in the Spring Court. He remembered that summer afternoon, walking into the library in the House of Wind, an unfamiliar scent mixing with the air. He had found you pouring over a massive tome, hair a bit frazzled and an exasperated look on your face. You had looked at him then–the rays of sunshine coming in from the windows making your face gleam. His heart had belonged to you the moment your eyes had met; his admiration for you–his soulmate–quickly turning into love as he got to know you. 

And you had no idea.

He had wanted to tell you, but doubts had quickly clouded his judgement. Initially, he convinced himself that you might not be ready for the level of commitment that the bond often implied. But it quickly turned into self-doubt–how could he confess and force the affliction of having him as your mate on to you? He was not worthy of you. And now he was too late. Now, he would be forced to watch you fall in love with someone else. 

Your giggle broke him out of his thoughts. “If you already know, then why do I need to say it?”

“Because it’s good to confess your feelings instead of keeping them bottled up,” Gwyn said. “Please, (Y/N), you know I have no interest in a romantic relationship right now. I have to live vicariously through you!”

“Fine,” you said, an exasperated sigh escaping you. You paused for a moment, the clinking of the wine glass chiming softly in Azriel’s ear. His shadows were desperate for release, fighting against their master to go to you, but he reeled them in tightly, unwilling to give his position away. 

“You cannot say anything to him. I really like him and I don’t need you three meddling and ruining our friendship.”

“Yes, yes. Now who is it?” Emorie said. 

“Mother above, look at how embarrassed she looks; she is so in love!” Nesta exclaimed and you groaned, but did not deny it. 

Gwyn squealed and Emorie joined her giggling as they drunkenly promised to keep your secrets. 

“Who is it?” Nesta teased. 

Azriel knew it was wrong to eavesdrop. He knew he should leave well enough alone and go back to his room and accept any decision you made as long as you were happy. His heart was already shattered within his chest; anything else he heard would just be salt on the wound. But his feet remained firm in their place, his shadows growing deathly silent around him as he waited for your answer. A fucking masochist is what he was. 

“You already know it’s Azriel.”

He was stunned into a daze for a moment, before warmth began to spread from his chest to the tip of his fingers and he did not even register the corners of his lips rising into a smile. 

“He’s just so kind and sweet and gentle. A little mysterious, but that’s the best part,” you continued, giggling. “He’s made me feel so welcome and he likes spending time with me. I feel like I can be myself around him. It doesn’t hurt that he’s so damn gorgeous. I can barely look at him!”

“I think you should tell him! I see the way he looks at you,” Emorie said. He wanted to hug her. 

“I don’t know. I don’t think he feels the same way and I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” you said and he rolled his eyes at you. Silly, little thing. How could you not know that you were the single most important thing in his life? How could you not know how his heart beat for you and only you?

“Well, I think you should put your big girl pants on and tell him,” Nesta said. “Just think about all the fun you’ll get to have!”

An image of you, kneeling ass up in his bed, flashed through his mind and he had to fight the dirty thoughts in his head to be able to focus. 

“Yes!” Emorie exclaimed. “You know that the size of Illyrian wings correlates with their dick size! If we’re just going off his wings, that male is packing.”

The entire group began laughing and unadulterated male pride surged within him. If only they knew how accurate they were. 

“I suppose the wings could be fun,” you said and trailed off.

“But?” Gwyn asked, baiting you into answering and Azriel vowed to get her that book she had been talking about non stop.

You giggled before answering. “But I’ve always wondered what he can do with those little shadows.”

The squeals and laughter grew loud. He heard a chair being pushed back, and quickly drew back up the stairs and into his bedroom without a sound, a smile etched on his face. 

This was not like him. The regularly stoic, unfeeling Spymaster of the Night Court felt giddy. He knew that the bond had not snapped for you yet. You were falling for him entirely on your own and he felt his heart swell with emotion. 

He knew sleep would not come to him that night. While it would usually evade him due to nightmares or too many thoughts, he knew that night would only be filled with the thought of you. You had feelings for him. You fantasized about him. He sat on his balcony, nursing a cup of wine as he looked up at the stars and contemplated the future. He was so damn close to having you. 

Your room was across from his, deliberately chosen by Rhys in an effort to get Azriel to get closer to you. He had heard you enter your chambers within the last hour and had to force his shadows to stay put, although he was finding it harder and harder to contain himself. He debated whether to go to you or not. 

You had feelings for him–had admitted as much out loud. Yet, apprehension still clung to him. Having a crush on him did not mean that you would accept the bond. Accept him. Perhaps you needed more time to solidify your feelings. Or perhaps he was being a coward and should speak with you, before his opportunity fades away from him. 

He stood decidedly and traversed the length of his room with large strides. He crossed the hallway and gently rapped his knuckles against your door before he could second-guess himself. There was no going back. 

He took a deep breath as no sound greeted him. 

He knocked on the door again, to the same answering silence. 

“(Y/N)?” he called out. He slowly pushed the door open, ensuring it was quiet in case you had fallen asleep. Glancing into the room, he found it completely empty. He had not heard you leave and his shadows had not detected you either. A pang of worry worked its way down his spine, before he heard a sound from the adjoining bath room. 

“Mmm.” It was your voice, low and husky and full of pleasure. He froze on the spot, blood rushing to his face and further south and he heard his heartbeat loud in his ears. He was hardly conscious of his legs, moving him closer and closer to the door until he was standing right in front of it. He stared at the dark wood, imagining what sight would greet him if he opened the door. 

You moaned once more and he gasped as the husky scent of your arousal reached his nose. It was making him slightly delirious, and he rested his head against the wooden surface of the door, trying to compose himself. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but realized too late that it had been a mistake. Your heady scent invaded every crevice of his brain and it felt like he was a hormonal teenager again, nothing in his brain except you. He reeled his shadows tight to himself, despite their clear desire to go to you. They angrily buzzed around his body, begging him to release them. His hand made it to the front of his pants, rubbing the throbbing erection through the soft material of his pants. 

It was wrong. It was so wrong. It was a complete invasion of your privacy, but he could not find it within himself to walk away. 

“Yes, Azriel,” you sighed and it stopped the movement of his hand short, the sound of you moaning his name lighting every nerve ending of his body on fire. It’s almost like you were a siren, summoning and enticing him and he took the bait without thought or hesitation. His hand wrapped around the handle of the door and he slowly turned it, pulling it open and making his way silently past the threshold. 

You were enveloped in the giant, ivory tub in the center of the room and faced away from him, not noticing him inside. He stayed where he was near the entrance and observed you. Your head rested back against the rim of the tub, eyes scrunched shut in pleasure, mouth opened as panting breaths escaped you. Your wet skin glistened in the faelight and he was entranced. 

You looked ethereal–like a goddess personified into flesh right before his eyes. He glanced at the mirror that stood in front of you, nearly gasping out loud at the sight of your pert nipples peeking out from the surface of the bath water. Your hand was submerged, arm moving in a quick, controlled movement as you brought pleasure to yourself. 

Gods, you were perfection. Everything about you enthralled him, excited him, and he wanted to own every part of you and for you to own every part of him. He yearned desperately for you. 

Your panting grew rapid, the moans escaping you more frequently now and he knew you were on the verge of your orgasm. His eyes remained glued to the reflection of your face, taking in every detail, every movement, every expression you made as you hit your peak. Your back arched, exposing your full breasts to his desperate gaze and he nearly came in his pants from the sight alone. 

Your body relaxed into the water and you sighed in satisfaction. Your eyes opened lazily as a delighted smile grew on your face. Looking forward, you froze as your gaze met his in the mirror. His breath caught in his chest as you gasped loud, submerging yourself further into the water and turning your body to face him. Shit. 

Your eyes were wide and your heartbeat had increased. He could almost feel the heat burning beneath your skin in embarrassment as you looked at him in shock. He tried to think of something to say, but panic began building inside of him and clouding his mind. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” you screeched.

He was frozen in shame. He should have never invaded your privacy like this. He regretted it. He did not know what possessed him to follow his primal instincts, but he cursed himself as he was unable to speak. 

“Well?” you asked, and he could feel your embarrassment slowly shifting into anger. 

“Do you normally spy on naked females?” Your tone was sharp and your lips were downturned into a frown. He could practically sense your body vibrating with unleashed wrath.

His cheeks burned bright red in embarrassment. He wished to explain himself–that he did not come to you with the intention of catching you in a vulnerable position. He simply wanted to speak with you. Encourage your feelings. But the sight of you…Your upper chest and shoulders were exposed, wet, and glistening in the dim lighting. Your hair was soaked, pushed all the way back and the curve of your neck was exposed to him, taunting his control. Your eyelashes were darkened, making your eyes all the more piercing. He was absolutely enchanted.

Azriel was a clever male. He was quick-witted and smart and knew his way out of most situations. But with you, he found himself absolutely struck dumb. His mind was blank, even as he begged himself to say something. To say anything. 

You were growing impatient. You breathed a sharp sigh through your nose and your frown deepened. Azriel wanted to punch himself when the only thing he could think of was how pretty your mouth was and how desperate he was to have it wrapped around his length. 

“You have about 3 seconds to explain yourself before I completely lose my shit and kill you.”

He knew you couldn’t kill him. It was laughable to even think of you trying. But the anger in your eyes scared him and he feared he would ruin any chance he had with you. He would never jeopardize your friendship, even if after today you decided you would never give him a chance, he needed you in his life. He could not lose you. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, breathless and absolutely captivated. “I didn’t know you were bathing–I came to speak to you. I heard a noise, so I came in and…I’m sorry.” Not the most eloquent, but at least he was able to get the words out, despite his tight throat and heavy breathing. 

“What did you want to speak to me about that was so pressing you had to walk in on me and stay?” you questioned, anger still lingering in your expression, but you weren’t banishing him away.

“I overheard you tell the girls that you have feelings for me.” Your anger shifted into shock for a moment, before turning back into embarrassment. You broke eye contact with him, looking away, eyes panicked and eyebrows scrunched together in worry. He wanted to comfort you, but within seconds, your expression stilled, morphing back into anger and you turned your eyes back to him. 

You glared at him, anger and indignation seeping from you. “Well, if you wanted to turn me down, save it. I never expected anything from you. Now, please leave.”

He wanted to laugh, but knew that you would not take it well. Turn you down? He would be the most foolish male in the whole of Prythian to let you go. 

“How could I ever turn you down when you’re all I ever think about?” You were silent at his confession, and your glare softened. “How could I ever turn you down when I have been in love with you since the second that I met you? How could I ever turn down my mate?” 

You were stunned, eyes widening and you stared at him, unblinkingly. 

“...Your mate?” you said. Your voice sounded small and the vulnerable expression on your face nearly broke his heart. “How long have you known?”

“It snapped for me the day I met you.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? You didn’t want it?”

“Of course I want it,” he said and took a step toward you. You didn’t stop him. You stared at him, your beautiful eyes wide and lined with unshed tears. “You’re everything I ever dreamed of and more. I wanted you to feel it on your own time. I didn’t want to pressure you. I know that I come with a lot of baggage and that I don’t deserve your love. And I’m sorry about this. I’ve just dreamt about seeing you like this for so long. I’ve imagined what your skin would feel like, your lips…”.

He knew he was rambling and finally decided to have some self-preservation. “I’m so sorry for invading your privacy, (Y/N). I’ll leave now.”

He turned away in shame, taking a step toward the door before your soft voice stopped him. 

“Find out,” you breathed. His gaze found you again, your eyes softened and a small smile played on your lips.

He grew nervous and he felt his throat tighten. His shadows coiled around him anxiously waiting.“What do you mean?” 

“How my skin feels like, my lips…”

You stood, droplets of bath water sliding down smooth, soft skin. His eyes widened and his breath caught in his chest as he traced a drop down between your breasts, down your navel, and down to the curls between your thighs. You stood bare before him–the most exquisite sight he had ever beheld. Your breath quickened, drawing his attention back to your perfect breasts. He envisioned himself walking up to you, taking a peak into his mouth, sucking and nipping at the supple skin. 

“(Y/N).” He sighed your name, quietly and reverently. His gaze returned to your face, piercing eyes meeting yours and every fiber of his being felt like it was being lit on fire.

He took a step towards you, his hand extending out as if to touch you, but he pulled it back. His shadows and wings were held taught against him, and his body nearly vibrated at having you this close and completely vulnerable before him. You stepped out of the tub and on to the plush rug on the floor and took a step toward him. He stared, afraid to move or even blink, as you approached him and closed the distance between you. This had to be a dream, a vivid fantasy his cruel mind was inventing. But you stood in front of him, real, completely naked and dripping wet and he was painfully hard beneath his pants. 

“Find out,” you murmured, close enough that your warm breath brushed against the skin of his bare chest. Before he was aware of what you had done, your hand wrapped around the back of his neck, bringing him closer and you pressed your lips against his. 

He froze for a moment, shock overtaking him before elation began growing and spreading throughout his being. His arms came up, wrapping around your bare waist and he pulled you closer to him as he began to eagerly kiss you back. He was addicted, your taste and the softness of your lips against his overwhelming his senses. He could not think. All he could smell was you. All he could hear was your breathing and the beating of your heart. All he could feel was the pleasant heat between your lips and the warmth of your skin on his. 

He could not stop his hands from roaming your skin, large hands touching any part of you he could get to, savoring the feeling of you in his arms. His touch reached the plump skin of your ass and he could not help but to give the meaty flesh a squeeze. You moaned, the sound like heaven to his ears, and he took the opportunity to dive his tongue into your mouth. Your arms squeezed him tighter to you, pulling him down to your height. His hands slid to your thighs and he stood up straight, carrying you as you wrapped your legs around his waist. 

He stepped forward, pressing your back against the floor length mirror on the wall and his lips began to trail the delicate skin of your neck. You sighed, going pliant and melting into his arms. 

“You said my name,” he murmured against you, one of his hands roaming to your front. The feel of your breast in his hand left him nearly breathless. 

“What?” you gasped as he bit down on the junction between your neck and shoulder. Fuck, you were delicious. He could not get enough of you. 

“Were you thinking of me while you were touching yourself?” he teased. He pressed his hips against yours and pinched your nipple; your gasp and the slight friction made a shiver run down his spine. Excitement, hope, and love flooded his senses as he finally had you in his arms. 

“You weren’t supposed to see,” you said sheepishly, turning your face away from him in embarrassment. 

He took the opportunity and began kissing down your jaw and neck, the soft gasps escaping you exciting him more. His hands returned to your thighs, hoisting you higher in his embrace and he attached his mouth to your nipple. You were mesmerizing, absolutely beautiful and his heart beat hard in his chest. He could not wait to drown in the silkiness of your skin, the feel of your hands on his body, your kisses, your essence…He was starving for you. 

He licked at your skin, sucking the delicate nub and pinching it between his teeth, your soft sounds encouraging him. Your hands gripped his shoulders, fingernails digging into the skin and he shuddered at the stinging pleasure. 

You moaned as he sucked on your nipple hard, and your hands began to wander the exposed skin of his chest, your small fingers traveling the terrain with purpose, dipping along his muscles and caressing his tattoos affectionately. He savored the feeling of you touching him, your warmth, how it felt to have you in his arms. His heart beat erratically in his chest and he feared you would put an end to it. He feared you would never allow him this close to you again. So he took his time to memorize you, so that if nothing else, he could have this night for the rest of his life. 

Your hands traveled up his neck, and you tilted his jaw up. He looked up at you in awe as you leaned down and pressed your lips against his once more. Your kiss was addicting–soft and passionate, desperate and accepting. He barely registered your hand sneaking down and pushing his sweatpants down his hips, leaving him just as bare as you were. 

You wiggled in his arms and he lowered you, leaning down and keeping his lips pressed firmly to yours. His tongue pressed at the seam of your lips and you breathed a laugh as you broke apart from him. He almost whimpered at the loss of your lips.

“Fuck, Az, you’re so hot,” you mumbled as you began pressing kisses down his chest. His hands clung to your shoulders and he hissed as you bit his nipple. You giggled, smiling up at him cheekily. 

“Fucking tease,” he growled.

“Should I make it up to you?” you asked, sinking down to your knees in front of him. 

Shock flew throughout his body as you pressed your mouth against his cock, hands coming up to wrap around him. Soft, tiny licks to his shaft made him twitch in your hands and you smiled up at him. You gently sucked the tip into your mouth and his heart stuttered in his chest. 

“Sweetheart,” he started, his voice tight and restrained. Despite wanting desperately to fuck into your mouth with reckless abandon, he didn’t want you to feel forced to do this for him. “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” you murmured. The vibrations of your voice traveled along his cock, up his spine, and caused his brain to malfunction for a moment. “I want to.”

Before he could formulate a response in his mind, you sucked his cock into your mouth, deep into your throat and your hands gripped whatever you were not able to stuff inside of your mouth. 

“Fuck!” He had died. He had ascended to the heavens, he was sure of it. This was the most exquisite, erotic experience of his life. You began dragging your mouth to the tip and back up the shaft; the suction of your mouth and the tightness of your throat was pure perfection. He could hardly believe that you were real. His hand came up and wrapped around your hair, desperate for anything to ground him to the earth. 

He stared at your face and your eyes shifted up, looking at him through your lashes and he groaned at the sight of just how deep you were taking him. 

“Stop,” he begged. He needed you to stop before he was not able to contain himself any longer. He wanted to be inside of you when he came. 

You ignored his plea, suctioning your cheeks in and sucking him harder. He felt his balls tighten and he whimpered.

“Fuck, please,” he groaned and pulled your hair hard, tugging your head back and away from him. You moaned and your eyes sparked with interest at his roughness. Interesting. He made a mental note to explore that in the future with you if he ever got the chance. 

“I need to fuck you,” he said, leaning down and gripping your hips, lifting you in his arms once more. He carried you with ease to the countertop, sitting you on it and slotting himself between your legs. You hissed at the coldness of the marble beneath you, but it didn’t stop you from kissing him again. He wrapped his arms fully around you, engulfing you in him as his wings dipped forward. You fell pliant in his arms and for a brief moment, the exhilarating thought crossed his mind that you would let him do anything he wanted to you. 

With you distracted, he took the opportunity, sending his shadows to pin your legs to the marble beneath you and your arms to the mirror behind you. You gasped in shock as he broke away from you, taking a few steps back and observing you.

“Azriel?” you gasped, looking at him with love-drunk eyes. He did not answer, taking the time to drink you in. Your perfect face, desperation clinging to your expression. Your breasts were on full display for him. His eyes wandered further down your exquisite figure, stopping at your glistening cunt. You were completely exposed to him. 

“You wanted to know how I use my shadows during sex,” he stated and you gasped, embarrassment flooding your features as you realized that he had overheard more of your conversation than you expected. “You’re about to find out.”

His shadows spread across the expanse of your body as Azriel stood firmly planted where he stood, observing the delectable sight before him. The shadows curled around your nipples, twisting them and pinching them and you let out a cry of pleasure, arching your back. He sent more of them lower on your body, softly caressing the seam at your center and you whined. 

“How does it feel?” he asked, wanting to know just how good you felt. 

“It’s so good Azriel,” you moaned. The shadows at your cunt squeezed against your clit and you screamed, your chest rising rapidly as you became breathless. 

“I-I”ve never felt anything like this,” you nearly sobbed. Your wetness dripped out of you, and he watched in cruel anticipation as your body writhed–right on brink of climax from his shadows alone. 

“Azriel, please, I need you.” He chuckled lowly at your plea for him. He had no intention of touching you just yet. 

“Is that it?” he taunted. “I think you can do better than that.”

You yelled in pleasure as his shadows gave a particularly tight pinch on your clit. 

“Azriel! Please! Please, I need your cock inside of me, I need to touch you. I need you to fuck me, please!” you cried out, just before hitting your peak. You groaned loudly as you arched your back. Your cum squirted out of you and he groaned, taking quick strides towards you and stuffing his face into your pussy, desperate for a taste of you. He drank your sweet juices and his tongue rubbed relentlessly against your clit, prolonging your orgasm as much as possible. 

He slowly called his shadows back to him, releasing you from their hold and he crawled his way back up your body, pressing soft kisses against your skin. He pressed a soft, chaste kiss on your lips.

“Someone’s a desperate, little slut,” he said and you smiled, leaning into him and nipping his lip. 

“Only for you,” you said, and spread your legs open, revealing your messy cunt to him once more. 

He stared for a moment before you gripped his face and brought his attention back to your face. “Well? Are you going to give this desperate, little slut what she wants?”

He was blown away at your insolent, bratty attitude. The normally shy, quiet, sweet girl was gone, replaced by a wild, untamed goddess of sex and beauty. He wanted to tease you, but he was absolutely mesmerized and knew he needed to fuck you, desperate for the feel of you and for his release. 

He lined himself up at your entrance and slowly slid inside of you. Your eyes rolled back and you tilted your head back in pleasure as every inch of his dick slowly slid into your tight hole. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration. The heat, the tightness, the wetness was driving him wild and he wanted to rut into you recklessly. But he went slow until he bottomed out. You were stuffed to the brim, his head nestling tight against your cervix. 

He began fucking into you in earnest, the friction driving him delirious. He craved every single touch you surrendered to him. He wished to be so deep inside of you that he did not know where one ended and the other began. The golden string tying his soul to yours sang in his chest, bright and unyielding, and it brought tears to his eyes as the floodgates of the bond suddenly opened, your emotions of pleasure and admiration and love flooding into his heart. 

Your eyes widened, tears lining them and you smiled brilliantly at him. 

“My mate,” you whispered, feeling the bond open on your end. He returned your smile, unbridled and open, and the bond between you glowed–incandescent and fierce and all-consuming. 

He surrendered to his emotions, fucking into you with abandonment and a newfound ferocity. You screamed in pleasure and you clenched around him, making him gasp. The sight of your face, contorted in pleasure, the glow of your skin, still damp and gleaming with sweat, your scent intermingled with the unmistakable musk of sex, the feeling of your tight cunt wrapping around him and accommodating his impressive length perfectly–it was all too much for him. 

He was hanging on the precipice, determined to bring you to your high before falling off the edge. He was so close and so were you. He never thought he would ever feel such pleasure from sex. Sex had always been good, great even. But with you, it was something else entirely. With the golden thread now formed between the two of you, the feeling of your pleasure increased his tenfold and his heart swelled with uncontrollable love. No one would ever compare to you–he would never want anyone else. 

You sobbed in pleasure as your pussy clenched tight around him and you came with a scream. Your arms clutched him to you, and he groaned loudly as your walls fluttered around him. His pleasure built to a peak and his vision went white as he came inside of you. He buried himself to the hilt, as deep as he could go and he wrapped his arms tightly around you, your entire body pressed against him.

The room was silent for a few moments. Azriel pressed his head against your panting chest, your breathing and the beat of your heart a comforting rhythm in his ear. Your hand gently ran through his hair, playing with the soft strands and gently combing through the tangles. 

 He looked up at you and found your eyes already fixed on him. He smiled softly and pressed a kiss against your jaw. 

“I’m sorry I was creeping on you,” he said sheepishly. 

You laughed and leaned down to press a kiss against his head. “I’m sure I can think of some ways you can make it up to me. Maybe I’ll have to tie you up and force you to watch me pleasure myself all night long.”

He glared up at you. “You’re a fucking tease.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” He couldn’t wait to find out.

[kilannad]

On Prythian and Fairy tales

Here's the thing about ACoTaR that drives me insane; SJM had the perfect set up for a Lunarian Chronicles-level of fairy tale retellings. The first book is literally a ya fantasy version of beauty and the beast. She did all the work setting up and then abandoned the concept! Why? Seven Courts--seven books, each for a different fairy tale. You could even keep the Hybern/Koschei meta-plot, just have it carry through the seven books and end with an MCU style final battle. She did something similar enough in ToG.

Anyway, this is a very long way of leading in to what I think each of the court/fairy tale match-ups should have been.

Spring; Beauty and the Beast. Done. Perfect. Give Feyre and Tamlin a happy ending instead of the BS from book 2.

Autumn: Cinderella. Beron is finally insistent that his eldest marry. Problem--Eris discovers his mate is a servant; someone his father absolute would never allow.

Summer: The Little Mermaid. A naiad/siren saves Tarquin's life somehow and he tries to use it to improve faerie rights while the naiad tries to use him for her own gains. Except they fall in love.

Winter: This one I'm the least certain about. The Ice Queen is right there of course, but the original is FUCKING AWFUL. So, something about a cursed artifact--the Trove perhaps???--getting Kallias and Vivianne forced to work together. Childhood bffs to lovers pipeline.

Dawn: Snow White. Thesan's niece/something goes missing after Amarantha is killed. Turns out some of the priestesses are planning a coup and the niece is a problem. Enter...someone?? Nuan maybe. Idk, we know very little about Dawn y'all.

Day: Sleeping Beauty. An ancient stronghold is discovered but is deeply cursed. To prove himself as a worthy Heir, Lucien has to go in and discover its secrets--and in the mean time finds an ancient seer that was sealed away from the Age of Legends.

Night: RAPUNZEL. Literally built for it, smh. A Hewn City lady--Thanatos's unnamed daughter perhaps?--is locked away inside the mountain. Enter Rhys, who needs to get a hold of his people and a political marriage is his best bet. ALTERNATIVE: Mor is Rapunzel and Az is her Flynn Rider. Depends on how you want to take it.

Do you see the vision? Do you understand what we could've had???

Does anyone know anything about Dawn outside of Thesan, his lover, and Nuan??????

[olenvasynyt]

MASTERLIST

Hello I’m Dana! I am in my mid-20s, and my pronouns are she / her. My username is olen väsynyt which means I’m tired in Finnish because I’m always tired lmao. I write, draw, and make random Pinterest, headcanon, and meta posts for ACOTAR / SJM. I love Elucien, Jesminda x Lucien, Eris, Lady of Autumn, Tamlin—basically anything to do with Autumn and Spring!

This is my masterlist of fanfics, artwork, commissions, and gifts given to me by lovely friends and mutuals who fuel my obsessions.

Feel free to check out my featured tags for easy searching.

SOCIALS:

Instagram ✥ Ao3 ✥ Pinterest

FANFICS:

A Court of Embers and Sunlight - Lucien x Jesminda backstory with Eris x Male OC, and LoA x Helion

15/? chapters, 84,065 words

Summary: It has been eighty years since the end of the Human War, and a delicate, tenuous peace has grown in Prythian. But as an ancient rivalry between two High families suddenly arises, the consequences of the War are pondered, and painful memories are stirred up for members of the Vanserra family, including Eris Vanserra and the Lady of Autumn. But being sixty and the youngest of seven brothers, Lucien Vanserra is eager to avoid a lot of things. Including the consequences of the War. Haunted by secrets and keen to avoid the Forest House, Lucien allows his errancy to lead him to Prythian’s Summer beaches, Winter lakes, and Spring fields until he finds himself stumbling down a path to a female he never expected. One who lights up his dark, rotting world like dappled sunlight through the leaves.

The Trees Have Eyes - Eris & Lucien

3/3 chapters, 20,833 words

Summary: For Eris Week 2024: Day Five—Adventure. When a trading meeting doesn’t go Beron’s way, the Lady of Autumn asks Eris to take his nine-year-old brother Lucien on a hunting trip for an undetermined amount of time to avoid Beron’s wrath.

Gold Of The Richest Kings - Lucien x Elain

One-shot, 3,430 words

Summary: Elain wakes up bathed in sunlight and dripping with her lingering orgasms from last night's lovemaking. Exhaustion and the constant need to give have worn her mate Lucien thin, so she decides that this morning would be the perfect opportunity to return the favor. (Sleepy morning sex turns to feral mating behavior)

The Muzzle - Eris x Azriel

One-shot, 6,462 words

Summary: Eris, newly crowned High Lord of Autumn, finds enjoyment in professionalism and control.  So when the shadowsinger of the Night Court seeks pleasure from him, they turn their meetings about allyship into trysts focused on sex and discipline. But Eris feels himself giving way to deeper feelings of longing.  And he feels something changing in Azriel too.

You Can't Taint What's Already Tainted - Eris x Azriel

1/3 chapters, 3,812 words

Summary: "Your soldiers were enchanted by Queen Briallyn and Koschei to be mindless killers. They attacked us in the Bog of Oorid, and we were left with no choice but to kill them."

"And yet two survived. Now convenient. I assume they received Azriel's particular brand of interrogation?" Eris's voice dripped disdain.

"We could only manage to contain two," Cassian said tightly. "Under Briallyn's influence, they were practically rabid."

A two-shot fic about Eris's missing soldiers attacking the IC in The Bog of Oorid under the enchantment of the Human Queen and the Crown, and how their deaths and torture complicate Eris's and Az's secret relationship. Picks up right after Cassian and Nesta have their meeting with Eris in Spring in ACOSF ch 43. Very Inner Circle / Rhys critical because I just can't help it

Tansies: A Declaration Of War - Tamlin x Rhysand

4/4 chapters, 19,027 words

Summary: After the Lady and Princess of Night are killed, Rhysand and his father break into Spring to enact their revenge. Rhysand is convinced Tamlin is to blame. But a month after the violent death of both their fathers, Rhysand discovers a terrible secret that causes him to struggle with his hatred for his star-crossed lover.

A shorter summary in just two words: Angsty. M-preg.

The End and the Beginning - Lucien x Jesminda x Elain dream sex

1/2 chapters, 2,651 words

Summary: It has been nearly four hundred years since Jesminda’s death, but Lucien is still in mourning.  And because of his newfound, unrequited mating bond, he feels his mourning even stronger than he had before.  

On the night of the anniversary of Jesminda’s murder, Lucien’s guilt and sorrow manifest into a very vivid dream.

My Poor, Sick Mate - Lucien x Elain

One-shot, 5,574 words

Summary: Elain is tending her garden when she and Lucien get stuck in a rainstorm. She should have predicted she would get sick…but thankfully, Lucien knows exactly what his mate needs. For Stickyelectrons ACOTAR Gift Exchange 2024!

My fanart:

✥ Beast!Tamlin and Elain for Tamlin Week 2025

✥ Elain and Jesminda for Elain Week 2025

✥ Elain outfit design sheet for Elain Week 2025

✥ Elucien with Jesminda collab with @jadedbugart for Elain Week 2025

✥Jesminda x Lucien x Elain collab with @jadedbug for Poly+ SJM Week 2025

✥ Jesminda faceshots and sketches

✥ Jesminda wings design

✥ Jesminda in an Autumn river

✥ Raivis Vanserra: second-oldest Vanserra brother

✥ LoA, Eris, and Lucien in The Canopy solarium

✥ Eris Vanserra portrait

✥ High Lord Eris Vanserra

✥ Helion rescuing the Lady of Autumn

✥ Elain taking care of sick Lucien for stickyelectrons

✥ Outlander Elucien for Elucien week 2024

✥ Elucien ACOTAR mockup cover

✥ Azriel Week Day 5: No Need For Poetry. Gags, blindfold, and muzzle

✥ Azriel shibari

✥ ACOTAR irises WIP: Tamlin, Gwyn, Eris and Lucien

✥ Feyre’s UTM / CoN dress

My tumblr dividers:

✥ Elain Archeron / nature dividers

✥ Tamlin / celtic dividers

✥ Night / dark spring dividers

✥ Azris / red and blue dividers

✥ Ivy / vine dividers

Commissions and gifts:

✥ ACOEAS OC Ensel Angrboda by vaieart

✥ Jesminda by adduani

✥ Jesminda outfits by j.sgrey

✥ Lucien and Jesminda in the woods by j.sgrey

✥ Lucien and Jesminda on a picnic by electra.rt

✥ Raivis Vanserra gifted by @jon-snows-man-bun and @buffy-vanserra by @onigiripurr

✥ Jesminda gifted by @queercontrarian

✥ Lucien and Jesminda meet cute gifted by @bonecarversbestie

✥ Jesminda outfit and profile gifted by @officalblackheron

Banner frame design is by kyberkurwa on DeviantArt

[mirrorballpages]

The Eyes & Ears of the Night Court

Summer at the River House was golden and blooming, the scent of jasmine trailing through every open window and the gardens bursting with late blossoms. The dinner table was long, oak polished to a gleam, and unusually full since everyone had come. Feyre and Rhys at the head, Nesta and Cassian near the wine, Amren and Varian flanking opposite ends, and even Mor, home from another diplomatic mission, laughing as she passed bread. And Azriel... Azriel was there too. Quiet, brooding, utterly still.

But he wasn’t there for the politics. Or the food. He was there for her.

Elain sat across from him, radiant in a soft green gown that clung to her waist, curls pinned half-up with sapphire combs. She was buttering a roll with delicate concentration, as if she weren’t acutely aware of his gaze.

They had been together for two months now. In secret. Since the night they had finally, finally stopped pretending. Since he’d whispered her name like a prayer and she had kissed every scar like a promise.

Now they were inseparable in every way that mattered. But no one knew. Not yet.

Azriel spent most nights at the townhouse, where Elain had moved a few months ago to get some privacy and space. Sometimes, when Azriel couldn't leave himself, she would slip into the House of Wind under the cover of shadows, barefoot and silent. Always returning before dawn. Always careful. And gods, she thrived on it. On the secrecy. On the danger.

Elain Archeron, the sweet, soft-spoken gardener, had learned to love the power in withholding. This was hers. Not dictated by sisters, or fate, or a Cauldron that had tried to rewrite her life. She chose Azriel. Chose silence. Chose to wrap herself in shadows and moonlight, to brush his hand in public like it meant nothing, only to leave wild roses on his pillow the next morning.

And Azriel let her.

Even though every part of him wanted to tell Rhys to go to hell. Every time Elain laughed at someone else’s joke, every time another male looked at her too long and he had to pretend—it tore at him. But he did it. Because she asked. Because he was good at secrets. Because she touched his scars like they were something worth saving.

The conversation shifted. Quickly. As it always did lately.

Windhaven.

Cassian was already four glasses deep, waving his hand in the air, wine sloshing dangerously close to his leathers. “The problem is, since the Blood Rite, none of them talk. The second I show up—silence. Even Az can’t pull anything from spying.”

That was true. Azriel had tried. The males stonewalled him. The females avoided him. Elain’s fork paused mid-bite. Her eyes lifted, not to Rhys or Feyre. To Azriel. A spark flickered behind her gaze. For months now, she’d been training with the twins, learning not only how to listen, but how to defend herself. How to move through the world without relying on anyone else to keep her safe. Ever since that dark spring when she’d been taken by the King of Hybern, her power shackled and voice silenced, Elain had vowed never to feel that helpless again.

And she hadn't.

People still saw her as the quiet one. The gentle one. The sister with flowers in her hair and honey on her tongue. But that softness had become her armor. Her weapon. It made her invisible to those who underestimated her. And that made her dangerous.

Everyone talked to Elain. The baker who gave her fresh loaves on Tuesdays. The courtiers who relaxed just a bit too much in her presence. Even visiting emissaries who forgot she was listening as they sipped tea in Feyre’s sitting room. Especially the women. They told her everything, assuming the smile meant harmlessness.

And now, as the conversation circled Windhaven and its silence, its unrest, a plan took root.

She spoke lightly, but there was steel beneath it. “Emerie told me the vegetable and herb gardens in Windhaven have started to fail. Something about a rot spreading through the grounds. I could offer to help.”

Several heads turned toward her. She went on, voice warm, steady. "It would give me a reason to be there, one no one would question. And while I’m working... I could listen. Because we all know the females—” she smiled slightly, “—they’re the ones who do the most talking.”

Azriel tensed. Not obviously. Not enough for anyone else to notice. But she saw it. The slight shift of his shoulder, the curl of a shadow up her wrist like a tether. She didn’t look at him. She didn’t need to.

Mor lit up beside her. “That’s brilliant. Females always talk. Especially when no one thinks they’re being listened to.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow over her wine. “You’re sure they’d even let you close enough to listen? Illyrians hate everyone that isn’t them.”

“They might.” Elain swirled her wine in her glass, eyes distant. “People... have a way of opening up around me.”

“She's right,” Feyre added, glancing at Rhys. “Even in the human lands. Remember the manor servants? She had them vacating the home within minutes.”

Rhys’s expression remained carefully unreadable. His fingers drummed once against the table, then stilled.

“You’d have to be alone,” he said finally. “And while the females may not fight like the males, they’re not docile. If things go wrong—”

“I won’t be alone,” Elain interrupted gently. “Azriel can track me with his shadows. If anything happens, he can step in.”

Azriel didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. Everyone felt the shift in the room. Rhys’s jaw ticked. “Azriel hates Windhaven. We can send Cassian.”

Azriel’s voice was flat. Final. “I’ll go.”

All heads turned to him. His shadows thickened slightly, curling at the edges of the table like smoke.

“If they see Cassian with her, they won’t say a word. My shadows can hide. I won’t interfere unless I have to.”

Rhys opened his mouth, but Elain spoke first, sweet and sharp.

“Wonderful. Thank you, Azriel.” She turned to Rhys with the faintest edge of a smile. “That won’t be a problem... will it?”

A beat of silence. Rhys picked an invisible piece of lint from his sleeve. “No,” he said smoothly. “Of course not.”

Elain lifted her glass in silent toast. She didn’t look at Azriel, but she didn’t need to. She could feel his eyes burning on her skin like a brand.

🌸🎀💕🌷

The townhouse was silent save for the occasional crackle of the hearth in the sitting room below, and the whisper of wind slipping past the window panes. Summer air hung warm and heavy, thick with the scent of night roses blooming along the balcony. Elain sat curled on her bed, the book in her lap barely read, her thumb idly stroking the soft edge of the page. The moonlight pooled across her coverlet, painting her room in hues of silver and dusk.

And then the shadows came. Soft at first, like smoke trailing beneath the doorframe. They slithered along the walls, over her skin like a caress, brushing the back of her neck in silent greeting.

He was home.

Elain didn’t move, only glanced up as Azriel stepped from the shadows in the corner of her room, his face unreadable.

"Where the fuck did that idea come from?" he said without preamble, voice low and taut.

She smiled softly, feigning innocence. "Good evening to you, too."

He was already shedding his leathers, pulling off his boots with practiced ease, his shoulders rolling with tension. Even after all these months—after memorizing every scar, every plane of his muscled form—he still unraveled her with a glance. The way his wings arched when he was agitated, the subtle way he moved, efficient and lethal.

Her gaze dipped, following the ripple of his abdomen as he took off his jacket. She reached out, fingers grazing down the center of his chest, slow and reverent. But the touch faltered when she met his eyes again, simmering, barely restrained.

He was furious. And afraid. She folded her legs beneath her and returned her attention to her book. “You’re not surprised. You knew I was thinking of doing something.”

“I didn’t think it would be this,” he said, pacing now. “Inserting yourself into Windhaven politics.”

Elain lifted her chin. “Have you and the twins not been training me for exactly this?”

His steps stilled.

“You were the one who said I’d be good at being an emissary,” she continued, calm but firm. “So consider it a test. A single trip to see what I can uncover.”

"You shouldn’t go."

“I’m not asking your permission.”

That pulled his gaze to hers, sharp and hard-edged. His arms crossed over his bare chest, shadows pulsing faintly at his feet.

"You never need my permission. But you don’t know what it’s like there, Elain. The males—"

"—are Illyrian," she finished. "Like you."

He let out a bitter breath. "They’re backwards assholes who hate females, and hate High Fae even more."

"And yet, you said yourself the unrest needs eyes on it." Her voice softened, but her spine didn’t bend. "They won’t talk to generals or spies. But they might talk to a soft-voiced female who seems harmless. One who talks to flowers. One who seems like she isn’t paying attention."

Azriel’s jaw worked. His wings shifted again, as if preparing to take flight, even confined to this quiet room. She knew he hated that image of her. Hated that anyone, anywhere, still looked at her and saw fragility.

Because he saw more. He always had.

"When are you going to step into your power, Elain?" he asked suddenly, voice quieter now. Raw. “Really step into it.”

He sat beside her, reached for her hand, held it like it grounded him. Elain sighed, setting the book aside. “When things settle. When we can be honest about what we are. Then I’ll tell them. About the Earthvein magic. The visions. But now... there’s too much happening already.”

“We may not have that luxury.” His thumb stroked along her knuckles. “With Koschei stirring, and this unrest in Windhaven... they need to see what you can do.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But I can’t just flip a switch and stop being who I was raised to be.”

Azriel didn’t speak right away. He just lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles, slow and soft. A gesture that said I hear you. I see you. I will never push you before you’re ready.

And that was the thing about Azriel. He never demanded. Never rushed. He could command armies with a glance, silence a room with a word, but when it came to her… he only ever offered. Waited.

Elain exhaled, her shoulders relaxing just slightly as she watched his lashes lower, his lips brushing her skin like it was sacred. She didn’t have to explain further. She never did. He always respected her decisions, even when he didn’t agree with them. And that was what undid her most.

Because Azriel… Azriel had seen her power before she had.

Long before the shadows wrapped around her fingers for the first time or the Earthvein stirred beneath her feet. Even then, he had watched her with that quiet, burning gaze, as if he knew what she was capable of. As if he was just waiting for her to realize it. He had seen her as strong. As dangerous. As someone who could shape the world with nothing more than a breath.

But she—she wasn’t ready.

Not because the power wasn’t there. It was. It thrummed in her bones, stirred when she touched the soil, whispered when her visions came too fast and too clear. It ached, sometimes, this tether to something ancient and wild. Something no one had taught her how to carry.

But power meant exposure.

Power meant stepping into the light.

And for Elain, that was far more terrifying than any monster in the night. She had been raised to be good. To be pleasing. To be perfect. And power, real power—messy, unpredictable, Fae power—was not perfect.

It was wild and consuming and loud. It was not what her mother would have wanted. It was not what the world expected of Elain Archeron, the flower-growing, tea-serving, quietly smiling middle sister.

So she curled it in, kept it quiet, like a vine growing inside the walls of her own chest. Hidden. Azriel shifted beside her, and she felt his shadows curl again, gentler this time. Not urging her. Just present. Just there.

“I know I need to,” she whispered after a long moment, the words tasting like ash on her tongue. “But the moment I do… the moment I step into it—it becomes real. And if I fall...if I fail…”

Her voice cracked. She didn’t finish. Azriel’s hand was still around hers. He turned her palm over and pressed a kiss to the center of it. “If you fall,” he said quietly, “I will catch you.”

She closed her eyes.

“And if I lose control?”

“Then I’ll help you take it back.”

Her breath shuddered. She leaned her forehead against his shoulder, eyes damp, but not quite crying. He didn’t hold her tighter, didn’t whisper reassurances he couldn’t promise. H

"You’ll be surrounded by Illyrians tomorrow," he murmured, shifting closer, his body heat wrapping around her like a cloak. He began kissing down her neck, slow, reverent. “Males who don’t give a damn about flowers or soft words. Males who’ll look at you and see something they want.”

Elain tilted her head, giving him more skin, smiling faintly. “They’ll see what I want them to see.”

He kissed her deeper, his grip tightening on her thigh.

“You forget,” she whispered, “I’m not as delicate as I look.”

Azriel paused, pulled back enough to meet her eyes. Something dark and proud burned in his. "I never forget that," he murmured, his hands gripping her hips with reverent possession. “And gods, I wish they could smell me on you.”

His voice was low, rough with restraint. “I hate that I’ll have to wash my scent off you in the morning. I hate that I can’t claim you—truly—and have them know that you are mine. That no one else is allowed to even look at you.”

His wings flared slightly behind him, a stretch of shadow and power. And then he lowered his mouth to her skin, kissing down her throat, her collarbone, her chest, slow and consuming. Elain’s breath caught. Her heart beat like wings against her ribs. He had only just returned from the House of Wind after two long days away, and she had missed him, ache-deep and desperate.

"Someday," she gasped, her head tilting back for him, "everyone will know. That I am yours. And only yours."

Azriel groaned, deep and ruined, and began to slide down her body with a hunger that bordered on worship. He hooked his fingers beneath the lace of her panties and peeled them away, slow as sin.

“I missed this,” he breathed against her thigh. “I can’t even go two days without you without losing my fucking mind.”

Each kiss up her legs was a vow. His mouth traced fire over her skin, the scrape of stubble making her tremble.

He reached her neck again, his voice low and hoarse. “Use them.”

Her power sparked before he even finished speaking.

“I want to feel you like that,” he said, pressing kisses to her shoulder, her throat. “Let me see how strong you are.”

At a flick of her fingers, ivy began to stir on the windowsill, silky and slow, awakened by her magic. The vines slithered toward him, twining around his wrists and shoulders, one curling delicately around the base of his spine. Azriel shuddered.

He rolled beneath her, letting her climb over him, shadows flickering across his bare chest as he surrendered. He had always liked control. Had built a life around it. But with her, he gave it, freely and completely. They had played with his shadows first, Elain learning what he liked, what undid him. But the vines... the vines had been hers. And he had loved it.

For someone forged in silence and strategy, he took being undone so very well.

And Elain? She thrived in it.

“You’re mine, Shadowsinger,” she whispered, her voice dark silk, bending over him as the vines gently restrained his arms. His shadows curled up her thighs, eager and reverent, as she slipped off her dress and rid him of the last of his leathers.

“Say it again,” he rasped, voice broken now. “Say you’re mine.”

She leaned down, lips brushing his. “I always have been.”

That was all it took.

Azriel surged into her with a growl, her body arching, the vines tightening around them both, pulling them closer. She gasped, head falling back, pleasure rippling through her as she adjusted to his length, to the feel of him finally back where he belonged.

“Gods, Elain,” he groaned, eyes locked to hers. “You are so fucking perfect.”

She rode him slowly at first, his hands straining against the vines until one broke free, gripping her thigh with bruising intensity. His other hand slipped between them, stroking her with unerring precision.

“Azriel—” she moaned, already close, her voice breaking on his name.

“Louder,” he growled. “I need you to scream it.”

And she did. Her climax tore through her like sunlight breaking through storm clouds, brilliant and consuming. But Azriel wasn’t done. He never was. With a swift movement, he flipped them, cradling her body like it was precious even as he drove into her again. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed her deeply, thoroughly, his hands mapping every inch of her.

The vines curled tighter, binding them chest to chest, holding them together as if even nature couldn’t bear to part them.

And then—

She reached for his wing. Just the sensitive inner edge.

He roared.

“Fuuuck, El—” he growled, his voice ragged, his teeth sinking into the curve of her neck with barely restrained need. A mark. A promise. He pulled back just enough to look at her. “You are so fucking beautiful,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her flushed face. “Mine.”

Elain could barely think. Could only feel. Her body trembled as the second orgasm surged, vines and shadows entwined, their magic humming in perfect union.

Tomorrow, she would walk into Windhaven. Surrounded by males who would underestimate her. But tonight, Azriel reminded her—and himself—that she was not just lovely.

She was lethal.

And she was his.

And in the hush of that room, wrapped in ivy and shadow, he worshipped her like she was the only thing he'd ever believed in.

@elriel-month

Read The Rest on AO3

[illyrianbitch]

WORKS IN PROGRESS & QUOTES !

im trying to get back into writing, so heres a list of all the series wips shoved away in my mind and some of my favorite scenes/quotes from them<3

Cicada Song - Azriel x Reader

The cicadas always came back, no matter how long they’d been silent. Azriel thought it was funny, in a way—how they waited, patient and buried, until it was time to scream.

Anatomy of Dependence - Azriel x Reader

Your hands were shaking when you reached for him. He wanted to tell you to stop—that you didn’t have to touch the ruin of him. But he let you. Because Azriel had never been good at turning you away, and maybe, just maybe, a part of him wanted to see if you’d flinch. If you’d finally see the darkness for what it was and walk away. But you didn’t. Your hands shook and you held on anyway.

An Education in Malice - Azriel x Reader

The words curled in your chest, bitter and sweet at the same time. A part of you, the child who had never stopped wanting his approval, allowed herself to feel something like warmth, like the satisfaction of a long-held desire finally being fulfilled. It made you want to turn your face away, ashamed.

House of Hunger - Eris x Reader

You hated him sometimes—his silence, his indifference, the way he managed to make you feel like you were reaching for something that would never be yours. But then there were moments like this, rare and fleeting, where you saw beyond the arrogance and the fire to the male underneath. And that male terrified you. Because he wasn’t cruel or cold. He was kind, and broken, and so impossibly alone that it made you ache in ways you didn’t want to admit.

One Summer - Azriel x Reader

“Tell me about it,” he said, his eyes half-lidded as he leaned in just enough for your noses to brush. His hand slid to cup your jaw, thumb caressing the curve of your cheek. “I’m over here popping a boner every time you smile at me like some hormonal teenager.” You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing, your body shaking against his as you playfully smacked his chest. “Oh my god, Az,” you groaned, half-embarrassed, half-amused. “I better stop smiling at you then.”

Lights, Camera, Action! - Rhysand x Reader

Lucien crossed his arms. “I’m not scared. I was startled, okay? Because you don’t have a dog.” He gestured wildly to Hero, as if needing proof that this isn’t just a strange hallucination. “You never mentioned a dog.” You grinned, giving Hero a little nudge forward as if presenting him formally. “Well, I do now.” “Since when?” “Since about twelve hours ago,” you said casually, as though adopting a dog on impulse is a perfectly reasonable, everyday thing. "Keep up."

In The Wake of Spring - Azriel x Reader x Eris (Azris x Reader)

Azriel had been ready to tear Lucien apart for even a taste of Elain. That was jealousy. That was claiming. But this was different. When he watched Eris lean toward you, your eyes locking in a way that had nothing to do with the others in the room, Azriel didn't feel the fire that once ignited within him. Instead, he felt a space open up inside him, a soft place where you both fit. Warm. Strange.

When Ghosts Call Us Home - Cassian x Reader

Centuries. That’s how long it had been since he'd last seen you—centuries—and yet, when he looked at you now, it was as if the years hadn’t existed at all. You looked different, sure—older, softer, but still undeniably you. There was a quiet strength in you that had only grown, a kind of peace he hadn't imagined possible after everything. He had expected time to change you in ways he couldn’t recognize, but you'd only expanded into yourself, like you were now something both older and more familiar all at once. It made his heart ache. Oh gods, how he wished he could've watched you grow into the female he watched now. He felt robbed.

Hidden Things - Lucien x Reader

Lucien's chuckles faded into something quieter. You caught your breath, wiping a tear from your eye as your laughter died down. And then you realized he was staring at you, his eyes distant, like he wasn't fully there anymore. “What?” you asked, “Do I have something on my face?” “No, nothing," he said as he cleared his throat. Lucien looked away for a second, but his eyes inevitably found yours again. “It’s just… you remind me of someone.” The air around you shifted slightly. You didn't miss the way his voice dipped, or the flicker of something deeper in his expression. Your smile softened as you turned fully toward him, leaning just a bit closer. “Do... do you love this someone?” Lucian stilled. For a moment, he looked almost startled. But then he took a breath, glanced down at his hands, and then back up at you. And smiled. “Yeah,” he said finally, his voice tender. “I really loved them.”

im such a deep lover of series y'all. i just love writing the process of falling in love, but i also have soo many one-shots, so i might make one of these for those, too <3

[offtorivendell]

Elain, Gwyn and a possible January birthday...

I can't believe it's the end of the Year of our Cauldron 2024 and this argument has resurfaced, but here we go I guess.

Thank you @shitwillnotbegiven for working though this with me!

Firstly, I really want people to know that none of this even matters; the interview in which Steph asked SJM if Azriel's person could have her birthday happened after ACOSF was sent* to be published. So whatever couple was built up was already set in the text. It's a complete non issue. Secondly, SJM has fudged up the numbers before; I am pretty sure that someone did the maths and, according to canon, Eris would have only been around 8yo when he left Mor at Autumn's border! These things happen, and SJM has said she's not a numbers person (no shame).

* Correction: ACOSF was not yet published, but it would have been at the printers and/or being shipped out. Thank you @valentiinexo.

Thirdly, assuming SJM honours the promise to begin with, even if the birthday request predated ACOSF being sent to the printers, it's still a non issue because both Elain and Gwyn could have been born in January. I don't know why people are saying Elain was born over the summer, besides wanting to reassure themselves that she won't end up with Az.

But let's have a look.

Elain

Nesta said that Elain was "barely thirteen" at the ball when the heiress bullied her for whatever reason.

“She wouldn’t have gone into much detail about it,” Elain said. “Nesta was only fourteen at the last ball we went to before—well, before we were poor …” Elain shook her head. “Another young heiress was at the ball, and she positively hated me. She was several years older, and I’d never done anything to provoke her hatred, but I think …” “She was jealous of your beauty,” Amren said, an amused smile on her red lips. Elain blushed. “Perhaps.” It was definitely that. Even though Elain would have been barely thirteen at the time. “Well, Nesta saw how she treated me, her casual cruelties and snubs, and bided her time. Waited until that ball, when a handsome duke from the continent was there to find a bride. His family had run out of money, which was why he’d deigned to come over at all—to nab a rich bride to refill their estate’s coffers. Nesta knew the heiress had her sights set on him. The girl had bragged about it to all of us in the powder room at every ball for weeks leading up to it. - ACOSF, chapter 44

Nesta herself was only "fourteen," born in the spring.

Cassian held her gaze as he stalked for her, then reached out an arm— And plucked the cerulean-and-cream scarf Elain had given her for her birthday this spring off the hook on the wall. He gripped it in his fist, dangling it like a strangled snake as he brushed past her. - ACOSF, chapter 1

As the map and seasons of Prythian both coincide with the map and seasons of the UK and Ireland/the northern hemisphere in general (besides the four seasonal courts), and it should be safe to assume that the ball happened during the social season, then we can extrapolate from most online sources, which suggest that would have begun when British parliament returned after closing for the winter.

Per Wikipedia:

The Season coincided with the sitting of parliament; it began some time after Christmas and ran until midsummer, roughly late June. Some sources say it began at Parliament's Easter session break. The social season played a role in the political life of the country: the members of the two Houses of Parliament were almost all participants in the season, as all Peers sitting in the House of Lords were by definition nobility, and many if not most Members of the House of Commons were gentry. But the Season also provided an opportunity for the children of marriageable age of the nobility and gentry to be launched into society.

Feyre confirmed as much in ACOTAR, because she arrived back in the human lands after the "socialite season" had ended and it was getting into summer. Elain was even wearing summer appropriate attire and was flushed - maybe from the heat as much as her excitement?

Summer—in the weeks that I’d been painting and dining with Tamlin and wandering the court lands at his side, summer had come. Did my family still truly believe me to be visiting some long-lost aunt? What were they doing with themselves? - ACOTAR, chapter 25

I glanced sidelong at her. My sister was beaming, content—prettier than I’d ever seen her, even in her simple muslin gardening dress. Her cheeks were flushed beneath her large, floppy hat. “I think—I think I’d like to see the continent,” I said. And it was true, I realized. There was so much of the world that I hadn’t seen, hadn’t ever thought about visiting. Hadn’t ever been able to dream of visiting. “I’m surprised you’re so eager to go next spring,” I said. “Isn’t that right in the middle of the season?” The socialite season, which had ended a few weeks ago, apparently, full of parties and balls and luncheons and gossip, gossip, gossip. Elain had told me all about it at dinner the night before, hardly noticing that it was an effort for me to get down my food. - ACOTAR, chapter 29

The following afternoon, bleary-eyed and quiet, we all gathered at the lunch table. I thanked my sister and father for the party, and dodged my father’s inquiries regarding whether any of his friends’ sons had caught my eye. The summer heat had arrived, and I propped my chin on a fist as I fanned myself. I’d slept fitfully in the heat last night. It was never too hot or too cold at Tamlin’s estate. - ACOTAR, chapter 31

Spring is "right in the middle of" Prythian's social season. Winter > spring (tulip season) > summer. Feyre gives us this information.

All of this is to say that it is absolutely possible for Elain to be born in January and be "barely thirteen" years of age in the late winter/early spring of the same year "weeks" later, when Nesta got revenge for her at the ball. And Nesta, who was "only fourteen" at the time, could have been nearing her fifteenth birthday. "Two under two" is a common saying for a reason, and I suspect the "only" was not to suggest that Nesta had recently turned fourteen (though two in one year is definitely possible), but that she was too young for marriage in her father's/family's opinion, and the entire situation was ludicrous.

Perhaps the wooden rose was actually a birthday gift for Elain from Papa Archeron?

She plucked another figurine from the mantel: a rose carved from a dark sort of wood. She held it in her palm, its solid weight surprising, and traced a finger over one of the petals. “He made this one for Elain. Since it was winter and she missed the flowers.” - ACOSF, chapter 55

Gwyn

If Gwyn and Catrin were conceived on Calanmai, which is the first of May, and faerie pregnancies last ten months - this is of course assuming that their half-nymph mother would have expected the same duration of her pregnancy as a high fae like Feyre - then yes, a pregnancy with a due date of May plus ten months (it's impossible to count from her last missed period as we know at least the high fae only have two cycles a year, so the conception date will have to do) could end with a set of twins born in January.

Gwyn went on, “My mother was unwanted by either of their people. She could not dwell in the rivers of the Spring Court, but was too untamed to endure the confinement of the forest house of Autumn. So she was given in her childhood to the temple at Sangravah, where she was raised. She partook in the Great Rite when she was of age, and I, we—my sister and I, I mean—were the result of that sacred union with a male stranger. She never found out who he was, for the magic chose him that night, and no one ever showed up to ask about twin girls. We were raised in the temple as well. I never left its grounds until … until I came here.” - ACOSF, chapter 29

Around half of twin pregnancies make it to term, and 90% are born after 32 weeks (per google), so even with the extrapolation between human data and the barely existent faerie pregnancy "lore" I think that a January birthdate for Gwyn and Catrin is not a risky guess. I also think it's much more exciting to refer to pregnancy "lore" than data, so can we all get that going? 😂

So yeah, there you have it. Both Elain and Gwyn could have been born in January. Though again, it was a request made after ACOSF was finished. This argument doesn't "benefit" either side, and to suggest that it eliminates either Elain or Gwyn is disingenuous. Why does it keep popping up?

[crazy-ache]

Something something ACOSF AU where Rhysand and Feyre and their child do die and it cannot be undone. The magic chooses Kier as the new High Lord. The Inner Circle must scatter to survive. Cassian takes his mate to the Illyrians Mountains. Az remains to spy. Mor goes to the continents, Amren to summer, and Elain….

Elain ends up in the Autumn Court. Because she’s the only thing protecting Lucien from Beron after his employment with the NC disappears and Spring is on the verge of collapse.