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ambivalence-is-me · 6 months ago

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The Lost Princess

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: Your life drastically changes after meeting Feyre. You don’t know how to help, you don’t know much of anything really so, how is your life going to be now? In a city you didn’t know existed with people you thought you hated.

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: manipulation, perhaps some self-loathing issues, slow burn. This is just like a prologue of their first impressions of each other.

A/N: this is HEAVILY inspired by Glinda from Wicked. I’ve been obsessed ever since I saw it. I wanted that sort of superficial clueless character vibe and this came out. I’ve got so many other ideas so just hear me out okay lol

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You were a fool. A useless fool...and they knew that.

But you didn't want to be one. No, you wanted needed to prove you weren’t a fool. Prove it to them and to yourself.

It wasn’t your fault, even if they didn’t know it but you knew that it wasn’t your fault you had been so...lost.

They didn’t know about all the lies and manipulation you’ve gone through at the hands of your brother.

Your brother, who was probably the one male after the King of Hybern that was so hated, the Inner Circle’s number two enemy..Tamlin.

Let’s backtrack a little...

You are nothing like Tamlin, personality and physically speaking. The only trait you two seemed to share is the shade of green eyes. Hair, facial features, even height, seemed to set you apart from him. And you’ve never been more thankful for it.

Personality wise, while Tamlin seemed to damper every path and flower he passed, you had the opposite effect. A true daughter princess of Spring. You were bubbly, carefree, perky and just so full of life. It had annoyed Feyre at the start. She met you a few days after she had been taken from the mortal lands and forced to live at the Manor. You seemed to appear out of freaking nowhere in a pink dress, small tiara on top of your head and on your face a mask that seemed to be of a dove, beautiful white and gold interlaced throughout it. It was all sunshine and rainbows as if you had come down in a freaking bubble or something.

It irritated Feyre how you walked around and interacted with everyone with such joy when everyone else, especially her, seemed to be on high alert and tense but that tension seemed to leave whenever your presence was by. Feyre couldn’t get any answers from you whenever you conversed. She wanted to know everything about the fae lands, including how to get out, anything but you just didn't know. And later you both learned that it hadn't been Amarantha’s fault but your brothers’.

During Amarantha’s reign you had lived in a bubble (methaphorically speaking). You couldn't remember why one day you woke up wearing a mask, one you couldnt get rid of or even think about why you were wearing it. You didn’t know who was the evil red female who had proclaimed herself High Queen of Prythian or what she had done to all the lands and its people. Nor did you know of your father’s involvement in killing Rhysand’s family and especially didn’t know how he (and your mother and brothers) had been murdered by Rhysand’s father. All of this had gone underperceived by you for decades.

Truthfully, you weren't even supposed to be alive but were meant to suffer your mother’s fate at the hands of Rhysand’s father. And after learning the truth and re-meeting Rhysand properly, looking at the pain and grief hidden behind his violet eyes, you knew it too.

Tamlin, seemingly perceptive of what was coming after what his father had done to Rhysand’s mother and sister, suggested to your father to send you away, hide you far away where they couldn’t find and murder you. It had worked but you couldn't remember where you had been or with who, that part of your life was as if never happened.

After becoming High Lord and Amarantha starting her advances, he went even further to secure your protection and took you somewhere where he knew the sort of people who lived there would help him make sure that you followed every word and instruction he gave. He had them put a spell on you, he had cursed you.

Cursed to forget about the death of your family, cursed to overlooked Amarantha, cursed dismiss the danger they lived in, cursed to believe and follow every word he said, cursed to refrain from thinking too much, to question things, cursed to be clueless. For years.

Feyre thought it was an act. How you looked at everything so positively and nothing could go wrong but then she knew that it wasn’t.

It was never an act, you truly were clueless, but it wasn’t your fault. You were just another one of Tamlin’s victims.

Thats why Feyre gave you a chance. Besides the fact that everything seemed to go over your head, you are a nice, caring, empathetic female. After she was Made, Feyre gravitated more towards you, preferred your company over Ianthe's, sought you out after arguing with Tamlin or Lucien and while you never understood what she had gone through, the trauma and burden she carried (because of the curse), you never turned her away.

Tamlin had noticed how deep your friendship had gotten. And since he knew Feyre was to be taken away at one point by Rhysand because of that stupid bargain, he knew he had to turn you against Rhysand so you could in turn continue to feed into Feyre’s apprehension of the High Lord of the Night Court. How did he do that? He told you the truth...well, some of it.

He revealed the death of your family. He emphasized how merciless it had been and how Rhysand was the only one to blame.

You cried...for hours you wept and screamed. Your mother, your beautiful mother was dead all this time. You had thought she was off in another court with your father accompanying him with some lord duties but instead she had been murdered in cold blood, and you didn't even know.

Feyre knew then that she much preferred to see you smiling and laughing than to see you so heartbroken, to hear your cries was devastating.

And Tamlin had succeeded.

You became so incredibly fearful of the Night Court’s High Lord that you begged Feyre to break the bargain, to never look his way, to hate the cruel and soulless male who had taken your family away from you. And in return, Feyre had hated Rhysand, hated him so much for making you cry, for dimming your light. She also had fallen under Tamlin’s trap. But of course, that all changed.

It changed when it didn't get any better for Feyre, when Tamlin’s actions were feeding into her pain, when he locked her inside the Manor. You of course had no idea he had done this; you didn't even recall when Morr had rescued her. You heard the explosion and when you arrived at the scene, Feyre was already gone. Tamlin had been furious and told you Rhysand was to blame, that he had kidnapped your friend and that he had to find and bring her back.

You, of course thanks to the curse, believed him and you were extremely worried for her. Fear ran through your body and you prayed everyday to the Mother that no harm would come to her, that she weren’t suffering your mother’s fate.

Months passed and you remained none the wiser to what was happening outside the Manor’s walls. Whispers of war roomed the halls, some kind of Hybern involved, you hardly saw your stressed brother. Lucien being the one to accompany you at times for dinner. But he never revealed anything, of the war, of Feyre and you continued to stay clueless and out of the loop.

It wasn’t like you didn't want to know or that you didn't try. You did, you tried to ask around, to the servants, the sentries, but they all knew the spell you were under and knew better than to reveal anything Tamlin didn't want you to know. And you hated it. You felt so frustrated that you were doing meaningless things around the Manor while your friend, your only friend, was off in another court probably being tortured and you weren't doing anything to help her. After Tamlin had popped part of your bubble, you felt the need to be more hands on but you just didn't know where to start. At one point, you tried writing down the whispers you heard, along with questions you had, or any information obtained, and you tried to piece it all together by yourself. But nothing made sense. Nothing would continue to make sense when your brother had the power to take knowledge away from you.

Everything started to change for you with Feyre’s return. You were delighted that she was back, that your brother had rescued her from the Night Court. You hugged her so hard that for a second Feyre had forgotten her plan to ruin Tamlin. She remembered all the time both spent together, remembered and felt the care you had for her. And it was then that she knew that somehow she had to convince you to run away with her, to help you ruin your brother. After all of the things she went through in Velaris, all the knowledge and new perspective she gained, Feyre recognized you to be another prey fallen into Tamlin’s claws.

And you needed to get out. But by then, she didn’t know of the curse that was befallen on you. All she knew is that you believed every little word Tamlin uttered, that you blindly followed his every instruction, and she couldn't believe how she had never pieced the pieces together before. So, with more conviction than ever, under the wards and glamours in her bedroom at the Manor, Feyre told you everything. Of Amarantha's curse, what your family had done to Rhysand, what Tamlin did to her, of Velaris and the Inner Circle, Hybern, her mating bond, her sisters being Made and even of her plans to destroy the Spring Court. Slowly, Feyre took off the blindfold that had been forcedly put on you for decades. She talked and you listened, tears running down your face, for hours. Well into the night and again when the sun came up.

It was extremely difficult to believe her. How could you? When everything she was saying went against everything your brother had told you. Feyre knew that risk, that you wouldn't believe her but she held nothing back. She answered all your questions, worries and even hugged you.

You promised Feyre you wouldn't tell a word to anyone of what she had expressed. And you kept that promise but it didn't mean that you still full heartedly believed her. You wanted to, something inside you was screaming that it was the truth and that you had been an idiot to believe Tamlin.

But you couldn't understand, if Feyre was telling the truth then, why Tamlin had lied? Why had he kept so much from you? Tamlin, your older brother who fiercely protected you when you were a child, would read to you at nights, played with you, gave you attention when the rest of your brothers only ignored you. He was your favorite brother, your first hero, the first male you had told ‘’I love you’’ too. How can you change this image you have of him so fast when for all of your life he had been your rock? How can someone who claimed to love you do the complete opposite of love? You couldn't understand.

But then you remembered he lied about your family’s death, kept that from you. And using the same train of thought then that means, yes he could have hid so much more from you. And before making any decision in regards to following Feyre, you tried, just one more time, to get information out of your brother.

You asked him one question ‘’How did you find Feyre?’’.

He had looked up at you and said : ‘’It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that she’s here now and that she’s safe. Keep her company and help in whatever she needs. You will do that right, sister?’’.

The spell made you nod without you even being aware that you were nodding and replied ‘’Of course, brother. I will help Feyre with anything she needs.’’

He smiled and dismissed you.

That did it for you. You couldn't explain why you had accepted his truth so fast, why you didn't question him further, why your mind seemed to be battling itself. It was maddening.

And so, you agreed to be part of Feyre’s plan to run away. She told you she was to accompany Lucien, the twins and Jurian to the forest. As per usual, you were expected to stay in the Manor while everyone did, well, everything else. But this time, when everyone left, you were to grab a bag with essentials and leave. Feyre pointed out a meeting spot where you were to wait for her there and then continue the path to the Night Court.

It was the most terrifying thing you had ever done.

‘’What about my guard?’’ You asked her, worried about your escape since Tamlin had appointed a sentry to be your guard whenever he or Lucien weren't in the Manor.

‘’I’ll take care of it. Just meet me there and wait. No matter what you hear, wait for me there. I will come find you, I promise’’.

And she had been right. Whatever she had done to your guard well, she took care of it since there didn't seem to be any near you, making your exit far smoother than you expected. Even if inside you were terrified, every neuron in your brain screamed at you to go back inside the Manor and wait for Tamlin. But you pushed through, for Cauldron’s sake did you push through. Every step away from the Manor, from Tamlin seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, making it hard for you to continue, as if there was an invisible force trying to pull you back (the curse).

When you made it to the meeting point you cried. You were feeling an immense amount of fear of this new life you were heading towards to. You were also feeling proud of yourself for committing and making it there but then the fear came back when hours went by and there was no sign of Feyre. You waited, just like you said, no matter if you were terrified of being alone in the woods. In the same woods you now knew ran part of Amarantha’s creatures. You were honest to the Mother about to piss yourself out of fear when you heard her. Feyre, she was coming. And she was not alone.

Lucien ran with her and they both looked worse for wear. You barely managed to speak when she grabbed your hands and urged you to run, tagging you along with them. You saw Lucien’s expression; he was probably confused by your involvement in all of this and he was worried of what would happen to you since he knew of the limitations of the curse. And yet, he stayed quiet and ran along with you both.

It was extremely hard for you to keep along with them. They were fighters, they were fit, they’ve been in battle before, but not you. You were just..well...a princess. You knew nothing of survival or fighting skills and they all knew that but they also knew they couldn't stop if they wanted to stay alive, to fulfill Feyre’s plans.

And made it you had.

With some great trouble along the way involving Lucien’s brothers but thankfully two Illyrian soldiers quite literally fell from the sky and rescued the three of you out of there.

Azriel and Cassian, Feyre had introduced.

And you of course took one look at them and nearly fainted. You were trying so hard not to show your fear but knew you were failing spectacularly. You’ve heard of their kind, from your father and Tamlin, of how ruthless they were, how they had no respect for females and enjoyed tearing them apart. But no, Feyre trusted them, had expressed there was nothing to fear, that they wouldn't harm you. And while everything inside you that was holding you back in Spring was telling you that it was a lie, you tried and believed her.

And now here you were. In this city you’ve never heard of, in a court where only bad things have been said, with only two other faes you knew, surrounded by others who apparently aren't evil at all. After all, in their eyes, you were the evil one, you were the villain in their story.

You met them all, the inner circle and they all stared at you. It was clear that they didn't trust you nor Lucien. But the way they treated you was different. With you it was like they didn't know how to treat you, as if they didn't know what to do with you. And well, you didn't know what to do with you either.

You were a fool, a useless fool.

They figured that out the moment Morrigan began asking questions and all you did was stare at her, mouth a bit open. Because of course, you didn't know the answer to any of her questions and you could see they were growing exasperated with you.

They all showed it differently. Rhysand hadn't met your eye once since you’ve been in the room, his jaw firm and looking anywhere else but you. The Morrigan vividly rolled her eyes at you and instead moved her attentions to Lucien. A smaller female than you with silver glowing eyes had taken one look at you and shook her head. Cassian, the big male with long hair and red jewels, was openly glaring and eyeing Lucien with distaste. And then, Azriel.

The most handsome male you’ve ever seen in all your life. While Rhysand and Cassian were also handsome, Azriel was a different type of handsome. One you couldn't quite explain. The best way your heart could capture it was by thinking that he was like the prince you always thought you’d end up married to. The handsome male described in those romance books you read. The one you hoped had a dazzling personality you longed for, to swept you off your feet and leave you breathless. And he did definitely leave you breathless but not in the way a female wants.

Right off the bat you’ve noticed that Azriel was quiet, the quietest of them all. He seemed to be analyzing everything, blending into the shadows that followed his every breath. And although he hadn't spoken your way once, his body language screamed that he wanted nothing to do with you.

And that hurt.

These people didn't owe you anything. On the contrary, you were the one invading their home, their safe space, you were the enemy so the least you could do is...what? Exactly what were you expected to do?

This only seemed to aggravate you further.

They don't know you, they don't know your heart, quite frankly besides existing, you’ve done nothing to harm any of them. Your hands and your heart were clean. And you didn't know this but that is exactly why Azriel, Rhysand and the rest had a hard time looking your way and accepting you.

You’ve done nothing. While they’ve gone through hell and back, what have you done? In their minds, you’re just a perfect little princess that can do no wrong.

And were they? Were they wrong? They weren't. Tamlin made sure you stayed pure, innocent, protected from danger so that you didn't need to lift a finger if you ever needed anything. But that was it, all your life had been dictated by someone else. Your thoughts, opinions and ideals were implanted by Tamlin.

It was time to start thinking of your own, to start creating a life of your own without Tamlin’s influence.

Without his curse.

The curse that only Lucien knew the existence and Feyre suspected of.

It was time to start battling everything you’ve been taught and fight for what you want. While you still needed to figure out what exactly it is that you want, you were going to do it. It was time to prove to yourself and to these new people that you were capable of more, of being more than just a foolish lost princess.

How were you going to do it? You had no idea, but you hope that the beautiful male with hazel eyes and scarred hands would wait long enough for you to give you a chance or perhaps, he could be the one to help you.

#azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel one shot #azriel #azriel angst #azriel imagine #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff #azriel series #azriel spymaster #tamlin #azriel x tamlin!sister #azriel x oc #azriel x female!reader

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scorpioriesling · 9 months ago

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Caught in 4k H.C.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Reader x Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Lucien, Eris, and Tamlin

Warnings: mdni, 18+, smut, masterbation, mentions of multiple kinks if you squint

Summary: A collection of head cannons where you catch the ACOTAR boys fantasizing / jerking it :) Just for funsies and I hope you like, lol. I also included photos for each! <3

SR’s Note: Honestly I saw this new photo / fan art of Lucien andddd I had to do something with it. The ween was staring at me… I was quite literally caught in 4k. SO, here we are, here’s an idea, I rolled with it. Enjoy, all you freaks (;

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Rhysand

Would absolutely be jerking off at his desk, in his office. Doors locked, he thinks no one is home.

He would start slow of course, then speed it up, thinking about you — how you looked before you’d left for downtown Velaris this morning, your hair up in that cute ponytail that showed off your pretty face.

Last time he had you at his desk your hair had been in a ponytail. His fist made for a rather sturdy hair tie.

“Ohhh,” he let out a small sigh, thinking of how your body looked as he pounded into you relentlessly from behind, your round little ass reverberating with every snap of his upper thighs against it. He squeezed his cock harder, thinking about the sounds that came with those thrusts-

“Fuck, baby,” he whispered, his head rolling back as he relaxed back in his chair, pumping his cock faster and faster, the image of your naked body pushing him toward his impending release. The way the desk would creak as his dick reached unimaginable depths inside you, sliding in and out so fucking fast; your body fit perfectly with his.

“Rhys! I’m back!” Your honey-filled, sing-songy voice rang out from the downstairs foyer just before he could release, and he immediately halted his movements. How long had he been doing this? He glanced at the clock — surely you hadn’t been gone that long.

The soft patter of footsteps rang out on the stairs, and he stuffed his still-hard dick back into his formal pants, struggling to tug the zipper up and attempt to conceal his erection. You’d surely notice, and he’d surely be embarrassed.

The door to the office swung open, and sure enough, you stood — bags in hand, ponytail and all. The bright smile on your face faltered when Rhys’ failed attempt at a warm greeting was recognized.

“What’s wrong, sweet heart?” You asked, setting down the paper bags and striding over to his desk. No no no, he thought. You needed to get out of here, at least until he could calm down.

“Nothing, my love.” He smiled, embracing you as you moved to sit on his lap. You shifted slightly, looking at all the papers atop his desk.

“You’ve got a lot of work it seems,” you say. He sighs lightly. “Yes my love,” he responds, kissing your cheek. The feel of you against him stiffens his cock, and he can only pray you don’t notice.

“Mhm,” you hum, shifting on him once more. Rhys’ breath comes out ragged, and you side-eye him with a smirk. “Almost the same amount as when I left earlier,” you point out. A small tinge of pink flushes his cheeks and you chuckle, kissing the tip of his nose before gazing tensely into his eyes.

“What were you doing up here all alone, anyways?” He meets your eye with an equally challenging stare. “Working.” He says coolly. You smile humorlessly, moving to straddle him instead. Instinctively, his hands cup your ass, squeezing hard. He knew what you were doing, but you didn’t care. It worked, and that’s all that mattered.

“I have something… else… you could work on, if you’d like?”

Cassian

He’d trained with you enough by now that he’d gotten used to your… attire. The way your tight leathers clung to your body, every dip and curve of you outlined for everyone to see.

He didn’t care so much now that you’d been together so long, but something about you striding in that morning stirred something in him.

You were laughing in that vivacious way you did, usually with Gwyn and Emerie and Nesta — a lot of times, when he was lucky, with him too.

He smiled at the sound of your voice, floating down the stairwell toward the training ring. His back was to you; but when he turned and caught the sight of you, your legs bare and midriff exposed, his breath faltered a bit.

Sure, he’d seen you completely nude before, but in front of your peers? Your friends? Especially during training… he wasn’t sure how he would handle two hours of this kind of torture. He could already feel the blood rushing to his cock at the sight.

“Y/N this isn’t- You know for training you can’t-“ he fumbled. Gwyn giggled, and you rolled your eyes.

“Cassie, it’s like a hundred degrees in here today. You said we weren’t doing hand to hand anyway; what’s the harm in lighter clothing?” You shrugged. He only stared blankly at you, commanding his eyes not to drift past your collarbone.

His hand jerking his cock later that day was the harm in lighter clothing.

He let out soft breaths, leaned back as he sat on the edge of his bed.

He thought about how that tiny little tank top was stretched thin across your generous chest, how his eyes traced over the outline of your bra when you did your warm ups. Gods… how many times he’d ripped thin little things like those off of you, how many times he’d toyed with you, undoing your lacy bras you’d wear just for him…

He kept pumping, thinking about how your tits bounced when he purposefully assigned the group jumping jacks and high knees exercises, and how painful his cock grew during your session.

He thought back to the times he drilled into you on this very bed, your knuckles white on the headboard as he shoved his cock deep inside of you, your screams of pleasure only encouraging him further.

It was borderline torturous today during cool down yoga, watching you in downward dog, your spine arched, your long legs on display. Under your shorts, he could only imagine the panties you had on — maybe his favorite, the glittery kind he could easily slide down your legs with his teeth.

Usually, this was before he would lick your cunt until you shook beneath him, your slick covering his lips and chin.

Had no one else attended training this morning, he honestly would’ve taken you right there; yanked your mini shorts over that perky little ass and drove himself straight inside of you. “You want to tease me? You know what happens when you play around,” he knows you love it when he spanks you-

“Cassie?”

He stilled, his chest heaving as he opened his eyes. Lo and behold, you were before him again. You hadn’t yet changed out of your training attire, and as your eyes trailed over his form on the bed, taking in what he was doing — you closed the door behind you.

“Baby, I-“ he stammers, and you only smirk at him.

“I suppose the new outfit this morning worked, hm?”

Azriel

It was hard, so painfully hard having a mate as beautiful as Azriel. So hard having a mate so beautiful, but was gone so often on missions that you found yourself at times taking care of your needs on your own.

You couldn’t blame him for it, you were quite lucky. But little did you know, he would need to take care of his own twice as much.

On this occasion, it was a case of… well, miscommunication. He was scheduled to be gone on a mission, and you’d told him you would stay the night with Morrigan instead of being alone in your shared home for the evening.

Of course, that was not what happened.

Azriel finished his mission early. He reported to Rhys, flew back home, and was happy to have a night off with rest and relaxation. He even lit candles in the house, for christ sakes.

He knew you were at Mor’s, and though he missed you so much, he didn’t want to take away from girls night. He’d walked in on one once and… well… let’s just say he’d never do it again.

Azriel was padding around the flat, finishing the last few sips of black coffee from his mug when he passed the sapphire door. His steps faltered, only for a moment, and he tipped his mug back to drain it, still eyeing the opened door.

Curiousity, and years of spy work must have gotten the best of him. He sat his mug on the hallway table, pushing against the usually locked door. This room was off limits to everyone, that was, except you and Azriel.

His breath caught in his throat as he made his way through the room, sitting in the plush chair near the center of it.

“Oh…. my…” he breathed. He leaned forward, his gaze flickering between the various vibrators scattering the ground. He stared, feeling unable to move — that was, other than his dick, which began to twitch beneath his leathers.

He continued to gaze, cataloguing which items weren’t in their holding places. Other than the vibrators, there were clamps missing, and maybe-

His cock fucking throbbed. He sat back in the chair, yanking on the ties and binds to free himself from his pants. Finally, finally getting his dick in his hands, he allowed his mind to wander further.

When were you in here alone? It had to be within the last few days, it didn’t look like this before he left. He slid his scarred fingers over his long shaft, thinking of you in this room, the things you’d done together in here. What you’d likely done alone.

“Mmmm,” he grunted, holding himself tighter. He thought of your tight cunt, how he had to work his thick cock into you every. Single. Time. “Fuck,” he muttered. You always looked so beautiful, a gorgeous, ruined mess for him, all tied up on the bed. Gods, the sounds you’d make, how they’d echo off the walls, through the entire house-

“Fuck baby, so tight for me,” he groaned. He usually wasn’t so vocal, preferring to hear you much more instead, but alone… he wished he could talk your ear off. Tell you to play with yourself, right in front of him so he could watch.

Gods, if he were here, watching you cry out against your vibrator thinking about him… there’s no way he would be able to hold back.

“Good girl, good fucking girl, take it, take all of it-“ he sucks in a breath, his gaze snagging on a pair of lacy underwear discarded by the bed. He quickly snatches them up, remembering how they looked last time you’d had them on.

The soft sound of the front door opening and closing pulls Azriel from his haze, immediately tossing the underwear back under the bed. He shoves his dick inside his leathers, groaning as his pants protest against his size. You weren’t even supposed to be back tonight — maybe the plans with Mor fell through.

Within minutes, he’s closing the door as quietly as he can, sure you won’t suspect a thing. He smiles lightly to himself. Hopefully, if you’re home to stay, you’ll be in the mood to finish what he’d already started.

He’s almost halfway down the hallway, heading for the foyer when a cough sounds from behind him — the other end of the hallway. He turns slowly, and sure enough; his eyes meet yours. Only for a moment though; he can’t help but notice the sheer nightie you’ve managed to slip into, breasts pushed up from your hands clasped behind your back.

“Having fun in there by yourself?” You tease, jerking your chin toward the sapphire door across the hall. Azriel doesn’t move a muscle, his thoughts racing.

“H-how did you know I was in there?” He asks, his tone low. You only giggle, taking a few steps toward him and revealing your hands at once. One held his mug, which he hadn’t noticed wasn’t on the hallway table anymore.

“Seems we’ve both forgotten to put our things away, hmm?” You wink. “I’ve lived with the Spymaster long enough to pick up on a few things, Azzie.”

Lucien

With Lucien, things were always *almost* a little more than “friendly”. Sure, you’d been best friends for centuries now, but over time, you’d both begun to realize there was more to it than just being friends.

“It’s truly not that complicated,” Tamlin explained. “She likes you, you’re clearly in love with her — I don’t see where the problem lies?” But, Lucien still only sighed.

“We’ve been friends so long, I just don’t want anything ruined,” he’d explained. That only made his High Lord friend laugh.

“I think it was ruined, my friend, the moment you let your feelings cloud your judgement. Which was a very, very long time ago.”

Honestly, he wasn’t wrong. In your youth, you and Lucien were simply platonic; you’d grown up together, bonded over the horrors you’d both endured and helped each other through, and found comfort in relying on one another.

But over time, that changed. Suddenly, attending Balls and Galas with Lucien sent flutters through your stomach. Going to dinners with him on quiet evenings warmed your heart, and now when he brought you flowers for your table — it felt new, it felt… more.

“Well, aren’t you the loveliest couple Prythian has to offer!”

This would happen often.

One of you, or both, would hastily explain that you’re just best friends. Well, you used to, anyway. Last time the older woman in the market made a comment as such, Lucien just smiled politely and held your hand tighter, continuing on as though nothing happened.

The moment that had tipped it all though… oh boy. You’d been in the kitchen of the manor, baking apple tartlets as autumn was approaching and they were Lucien’s favorite from back home. He had joined you, wanting to learn from someone with such a talent and, honestly he just wanted to spend time with you.

“Okay, next we need flour… Lucie, that’s you,” you whispered the last part, and Lucien snapped out of his daze. His hand dropped from his chin, propping his head up on the counter as he gazed at you from across it.

“Hm? Oh, I’m sorry,” he stood, searching for and grabbing the bag of flour from behind him. You smiled, taking it from him and measuring out a few cup fulls. He resumed his position, looking to you once more.

You met his gaze, your hand stopping midway between the bowl and bag. “Lucien, I thought you wanted to help me,” you said.

“Right, right, I do,” he moved toward you, pushing up the sleeves of his tan waffle-knit sweater as you dumped in another cup. Your breath caught as his hands appeared on either side of you, the sudden feeling of his toned body pressing against your backside lightly ceasing the air from your lungs. You tried to remind yourself to resume your breathing as normal — the steady rise and fall of your shoulders measured now by his chin resting atop your left one.

“Next… we, have two eggs,” you explained. You take them from the carton, and Lucien chuckles behind you, his body so close you can feel every movement and muscle beneath his clothing.

“Allow me,” he says smoothly, his arms caging you in closer along your sides as his hands rest atop yours. “I think I know how to at least do this part.”

You allow yourself a laugh, but it comes out breathless. He does as such, cracking them into the bowl and setting down the shells.

“Alright, now next is… hey!” You squeal, turning to face him in shock. He laughs, his smile radiant as you look down your nose at the dash of flour smeared on it. You reach for the bag, but you’re too slow — Lucien has both of your wrists held tight in an instant, pinning you to the counter with his hips against yours. Your noses are mere inches apart, and he continues grinning.

“Lucien, this isn’t-“ He doesn’t let you get another word in before he smushes his lips against yours, and you instinctively soften against him. Years, you’d waited years for this — the feel of him against you, his lips touching yours. All of those almosts, all the lingering touches, all of the sleepovers and hugs that went on too long, all those times your hand held his.

Now that he’d had you once, he only wanted more.

Which was why he sat in his favorite spring meadow now, trying to clear his head.

He couldn’t.

He only thought of you.

You, in all your beauty. The way your hair would always fall perfectly around your face. How you felt, your soft lips pressed against his. How your body, he was so careful to protect, felt pressed against him that day. He hated how hard his cock was just thinking of your ass pressed against him.

When he’d caught you off guard and finally kissed you… Gods, you’d look so lovely laid across the counter, wrists held above your head in his grip. He’d worship you and kiss every inch of you if you’d let him. Tartlets be damned; he’s sure you’d taste even better.

He was smiling to himself in the afternoon light when the most beautiful voice made itself heard before him.

“I can only wonder what you’re dreaming about to have such…” You playfully tease, your sentence trailing off. His eyes fly open, and he sits upright, looking at you and trying to find some kind of response.

“No! No, I uh, was just drifting off, just lounging here, against this uh…” he pats the fallen tree trunk behind him.

“…wood?” You finish. He shakes his head slowly, a smile creeping onto his lips. You giggle, dropping to your knees before him and adjusting your skirt around you. You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and he blushed.

“Well, tell me what you were thinking, then? Maybe I’ve thought of things similar.”

Eris

It was a beautiful morning — perfect for the horseback ride Eris had planned with you that day. He knew you had a few duties to tend to into the evening, and he wanted to squeeze in a little alone time beforehand if he could. You were more than happy to oblige.

“I’m not sure I’ve seen the leaves this red so soon in the season before,” you pointed out, looking around the autumn grove in wonder. Eris looked too, his focus landing on you once more like it had countless times already that morning. He knew, of course his mate was gorgeous, but… you were truly getting the best of him today.

“Maybe the season is getting longer,” he said absentmindedly, watching how your hips moved forward and back as your horse trotted along. Fuck, if you didn’t have obligations clogging your schedule later today, he’d have you off that horse and sitting on him instead. Gods what he’d give to feel that tight, pulsing cunt throbbing on his awaiting dick-

“Ooh! Eris look! Those are honeycrisp!” You said excitedly. “We have to get some, your mother has been looking everywhere for these.” Eris mentally kicked himself for being such a … guy. He was so happy just to spend time with you right now, and of course his mind was going to sex when his absolute gift of a mate was innocently noticing the apples dangling from the trees, thinking of others while his mind was only thinking of you.

Then again, he only ever seemed to think of you.

“Anything for you, dear.” You flashed him a smile then, and his spirits lifted higher. He led his mare toward the trees, sliding off and tying the reigns as you slowly approached behind him. You were shorter than him, and though you had enough courage for the entire Autumn court, you didn’t mind a gentle helping hand every once in a while. You handed your mate your own reigns, watching as he tied them to a branch as you also made to de-saddle.

His strong hands slid around your waist, firmly placed on either side as he hoisted you from the animal with ease and set you gently on the ground in front of him. You grinned up at him then, your hands still on his shoulders as a sudden rush went through you. You couldn’t help but remember the excitement you’d felt all those years ago when he was but a simple schoolgirl crush to you; that feeling remaining even now that you’re mated to the Autumn heir.

“I love you,” he said then, his one hand cupping your cheek and pulling you in for a kiss. You leaned into him, his hands roaming over your body as you felt his pants tighten slightly against your stomach. You chuckled, breaking for air before he got too many ideas.

“Apples?” You suggested. He nodded, swallowing thickly, but you could see the lust swelling in his irises. Once all your tasks were done today, you were sure you’d be seeing more of this side of him later tonight. “Apples,” he agreed.

The Lady of Autumn was more than thrilled with the discoveries you and Eris had come back with, her gratitude for the both of you evident before she bid the both of you goodbye. Watching you go, even for a few hours felt like torture for Eris. He shook his head, cursing the dirty thoughts racing through his mind — but they wouldn’t stop.

They surely didn’t stop as he sat before the fireplace at sunset, lazily sipping the last remnants of whisky from his glass as he scanned over the court’s weekly newsletter. The words were a blur; he was just passing the time and waiting for you to come home. Waiting to get his hands on you again.

Gods, your lips had tasted so good this morning, so warm against the cool air of the grove. Fuck, that little waist… when he’d had you the other night, bent over on the bed, fucking himself into you relentlessly, his hands gripping your smooth skin-

He wasn’t sure when he set down his glass, or when his paper hit the floor, but his fingers were now gliding over his cock, throbbing with need. His head rolled back, short breaths coming out between his parted lips.

The way your body moved this morning… he let out a soft groan. He thought of you, sitting on his lap, the fire casting a golden glow around you, bouncing up and down on his length. You didnt need any other fire — you emitted light yourself, everything you did, everywhere you went. You were the sun itself.

“Y/N…” he sucked in a breath, yanking on his cock. He thought about the tiny lingerie you’d wear for him, how he could pull it down over your tits and take one of your nipples between his teeth as you rode him harder…

His groans were cut short as a soft, familiar mouth met his, and he slowed his strokes but smiled into the kiss in realization. You pulled back an inch, a few tendrils of your hair tickling his neck and shoulders as you leaned over the couch above him, taking the scene in fully.

“Did you miss me?”

Tamlin

The sharp knock at the door startled him, his gaze drifting from the reports on his desk to the entrance of his study.

“It’s nearly ten thirty, Sir,” Alis peeked her head in. “I’m going to turn in for the night, unless there was anything else you needed.” Tamlin’s eyes widened in realization, and he looked at the wall clock for confirmation. Sure enough, 10:27 p.m. He sighed heavily.

“No, no, I’m quite alright Alis. Tell me, has Y/N turned in already?” He asked. His heart clenched as he tugged on the bond with no response. He’d told you he would be done with these reports hours ago, but, per usual to no avail. He hated disappointing you.

“I haven’t seen her since nine, Sir.” Alis said. He only nodded, and she closed the door quietly. Tamlin rubbed his eyes, shuffling his files into neat stacks and flicking off his table side lamp before heading toward the master bedroom.

Upon entering, his heart dropped even more. Of course you’d gone to bed, why wait up? He’d done this before. Promised to be done with work only to stay awake for hours into the night, not giving you the attention you’d deserved from him.

You. His mate.

His mate that, upon further inspection, must have believed he would finish on time tonight. You’d fallen asleep in a petal-laden lingerie set, barely leaving anything to the imagination. Tamlin’s lips pressed into a thin line — it was one of his favorites. Now he really felt bad.

Not only did he feel bad… he felt horny.

He stepped as quickly and quietly as he could across the hall toward the master bathroom, closing the door and leaning against the sink.

His chest heaved, and he stared at himself in the mirror, his cock growing harder and harder in his pants. He needed a shower, now.

He flipped the water on, allowing the steam to cloud in the bathroom before he cracked open the door to the hallway, just an inch so some of the hot air could filter out. The moonlight illuminated the space enough through the window — he avoided turning on the lights.

It was only after he’d stripped and gotten into the warm water that he’d started fisting his cock.

Images of you played in his mind, some recent, some from the past. The first time you’d made love in the garden — you had daisy petals all through your hair, your back bridging as it arched in pleasure while he ate you out. Gods, you tasted so sweet — sweeter than any honey Tamlin had ever tasted, in his court or beyond it.

His free hand braced against the cool tile of the shower wall, his other running along his thick length faster.

The images burned into his brain of you laid out on his desk — one he’d been spending so much time at lately with his stupid papers — your mouth open, crying out his name as he worked your clit with his fingers.

Your hands felt so good tangled in his hair… he’d missed that so much, he knew it was his own damn fault for not giving you enough of really anything lately.

“Gods Y/N,” he gritted out, his teeth clenched. The warm water ran over the defined muscles of his back, a reminder, but not quite as exact as the feeling of your fingers on him during those nights of the frenzy. That’s when you’d gotten that adorable, flowery little number anyway that you were wearing now — were you asking to be fucked like that, again?

He groaned at the thought, biting his lip in anticipation. The way you’d looked, so peaceful and delicate, your hair laid prettily on your pillow — but he knew.

Every once in a while, you wanted him crazy. You didn’t want nice, gentle, garden love-making. You wanted mating-bond, frenzy-crazed, sex. The kind that had you once drenching the sheets with your cum, squirting from you as your mate pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you. The kind that had you shaking as you sat on his face, his nose nudging your clit as his tongue played in your folds.

“FUCK,” Tamlin swore, pumping his dick so hard, feeling his release building, imagining your tongue on him instead, your awaiting mouth and beautiful, round eyes gazing up at him from the floor…

“Looking for somewhere to, finish?” You asked, stepping lightly into the shower behind him. Tamlin stilled, his face flushing at being caught in the act.

“I… sweetheart I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, I-“

“You didn’t,” You interjected, crossing your arms beneath your breasts. Tamlin’s cock jerked, his eyes roaming hungrily over your naked body. The cute outfit was something, yes, but your body, just you — now that was something he’d prefer over anything.

“…but I wish you would have.” You raised an eye brow at him.

His eyes darkened at your words and he chuckled, looking to the floor and shaking his head slowly.

“Y/N, I don’t think I’ll be able to last very long-“

“Try me,” you challenged, stepping forward as his gaze met yours. “We haven’t yet done it in the shower.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

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tamlins-stories-and-poems · 2 years ago

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My parents met at a science fiction convention, and in that community children are precious little monsters. Everyone keeps an eye on them, encourages them, gives them fake weaponry and encourages fake fights to the death, etc. this means that I have been raised being pulled into high level science discussions I have no background in by adults ranging from 20-60 years older than me since I could talk. Being asked what one thinks about speculative science, in all seriousness, by someone whose day job is relevant to the topic at hand seems inconsequential to a 5 year old, but looking back, it was a major confidence booster. Yeah some of that was “haha kids are so funny” and some of that was “I want to see if I’m explaining this well so check that the presumed-least-likely to understand person is catching this,” but some of it was just wanted to keep me included in conversations. I know I can ask questions, because my parents taught me that, and because their social circle reinforced the lesson.

I have friends my parents’ ages and older (and younger, but still with a significant generational gap) that are not my parents friends. If I need an adult (more adult, ig, since I’m technically full grown) opinion and don’t want it filtering back to my parents, I have options to reach out to, which in turn actually makes me feel safer talking to my parents.

Interpersonal advice, bouncing fandom ideas (“oh that works great because—,” and “oh but x couldn’t have happened in y unless we change a b and c” “oh yeah that didn’t exist in that year, we did this other thing then”), life advice, all are wonderful things to share with people of different experiences, whether that’s age or culture.

I cannot stress enough how much having people—in real life especially, but also online—who are significantly older than me but are still my friends and equals has helped me be more aware of my own need and how I handle myself, and how to act like I deserve respect while not disrespecting anyone around me.

There is a phrase “it takes a whole village to raise one child,” and that phrase exists because it is true. Be that a friend’s child, or one of your neighbors, or just someone else in the fandom, we’re all a village.

I hope I can be the funky weird older friend who helps someone else take off their rose tinted glasses of adults while helping them grow, like so many others have been for me

Sometimes when people on the Internet are like "ADULTS CAN NEVER INTERACT WITH MINORS IT'S CREEPY" I remember how, at 12, back in 1997, I was on the Witchvox forums with people ranging from me to people in at least their 50s, and no one there was ever a creep to me, no one ever made me feel uncomfortable or asked for my personal info, and when I finally broke down after a particularly brutal day of bullying at school and posted about it they were the first adults I'd ever met in my entire life who told me the bullies were the problem and it was okay to be angry about it.

Kids need to interact with adults who will listen to them.

#tamlin speaks #yeah there’s been a few problems here and there in some cons’ histories but as people get better about spreading the hats #there’s more accountability #and more people with time to take fandom youth under wings even momentarily #listen I have fond memories of sitting with a group of scadians I don’t remember the names of and just discussing mid evil clothes as daywea #it was also a discussion of how bullies have changed and stayed the same throughout our schooling history #and how to handle them #‘they all laughed at my wool cloak but I tell you when winter came I was the warmest and driest kid in class’#ma’am I have no clue who you were but good on you for being the only one not freaking out after several pounds of snow fell off something #and hit you and your classmates

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serpentandlily · 1 year ago

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The Crow's Poet - Azriel x Reader

The Crow’s Poet - Azriel x Reader

Summary: All of Azriel's attempts to get his mates attention are ignored and he realizes he was going to have to…resort to poetry, something he thought he’d never have to do.

Warnings: none

a/n: based on this request!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“He’s hiding something,” you muttered.

The masks he wears slips when the doors close.

“He wears masks? How odd.”

You chewed on your thumb, contemplating why that would be important information.

He cries himself to sleep after he leaves the witch’s room.

“But he was a monster before we were even trapped down here,” you whispered, thinking about your High Lord and the times he had deigned to visit Hewn City.

He is a master of secrets.

“If you say so,” you scoffed under your breath. Apparently a master of wearing masks. Maybe it was his own way of mocking Tamlin.

“Y/n?” Yara, one of the other servants, called out as she opened the kitchen doors. “Who are you talking to?”

The second the door had swung open your two shadow crows had disappeared, leaving you alone in the corridor. Your cheeks turned red and you stood, rubbing the back of your neck.

“U-uh,” you stuttered. “Myself?”

She rolled her eyes before grabbing you by the sleeve and yanking you back inside the kitchen. “Do you have to be such a weirdo all the time?”

Embarrassment crawled through you at her words. But it wasn’t the first time you had been called weird, or strange, or off-putting. You were a freak in the eyes of many.

Your entire life had been spent in a tiny room in your father’s home in Hewn City, shackled to the wall. Because you had been sheltered during your childhood, you had never developed any social skills like the other daughters of Lords.

You didn’t grow up alongside your peers. The only thing you had in that room with you were the shadows. Shadows that began to take the form of crows.

At some point, they had started talking to you. And you had started talking back. But you were certain you had gone crazy—that you had lost your mind. So you kept it a secret to this day.

Your father hardly let you out anyways, claiming that he needed to keep you pure for when he would offer you up to some Lord for marriage once you were of age. But that day never came because Amarantha had shown up and trapped you all under this mountain.

You were only sixteen when it happened but almost forty years had passed since then. So you had been a prisoner your whole life, essentially. At least down here you had some freedoms to roam about.

Later that night, you found yourself growing more curious about your High Lord after what your shadows had told you. So you mustered up a cocoon of them and used them to slip through walls and doors until you found yourself in the corner of the High Lord’s chambers.

You hid in the shadows, waiting for his return. Mainly out of pure curiosity and boredom. There was only so many times you could play chess against your crows before you lost all interest in it.

The door swung open and the High Lord stalked in, muttering to himself as he did. He slammed the door shut behind him, making you jump a bit in the shadows. You watched as he undid his coat, tossing it onto the bed. His fingers found the buttons of his shirt and your face turned red.

You were ready to disappear in the shadows again, not wanting to watch him undress, when he paused suddenly and sniffed the air. You watched curiously as he twisted in place, examining each corner of his room.

But he couldn’t see you. Not while you were the shadows, right?

Wrong.

His hand was around your throat before you could blink and he yanked you right out of the shadows. You choked in surprise, your eyes widening to full circles. He snarled at you, darkness beginning to drip off every inch of him.

“Who the fuck are you?” Rhysand growled. “And what the fuck are you doing in my room?”

He loosened his grip on your throat enough for you to answer.

"N-No one. I'm no one," you squeaked out, grasping at his wrist with your hands.

Rhysand examined the shadows around you that began to form into the familiar crows. He raised an eyebrow. "A shadowsinger? But I thought...Interesting."

Shadowsinger? You had never heard of the term before.

"A shadow what?" you exclaimed. "I don't sing!"

Rhysand ignored your outburst, glaring at you. "Who sent you here to spy on me? Who are you working for?"

"No one," you gasped. "I'm not working f-for anyone. The shadows told me y-you, um, liked to wear masks and I thought that was a bit odd so I wanted to see for myself."

Rhysand looked at you like you had suddenly grown three heads. But his hand loosened a bit more so you kept talking, unable to stop the words from tumbling out of your mouth. "Speaking of, I-I, uh, don't see any masks in here. Where do y-you keep them?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"The masks?" you stammered. "Like I said...the shadows said you wear them and everything--"

"I don't—" Rhys sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. He finally let you go and you slid down the wall, panting for air. 'What court are you from?"

"Yours," you answered, before your eyes widened again. "Oh Gods, am I supposed to bow to you? How does this work? I've never—"

"Stop. Just...stop," Rhys murmured. His face was stuck in thought. He stroked his jaw, staring down at you. "You're from the Court of Nightmares?"

You nodded in answer.

"Another shadowsinger in my court and I was unaware. Why haven't I learned of you until now?"

"I don't sing!" you squabled. "No one knows about my shadows...except you now, I guess."

A grin bloomed on Rhysand's face, one full of deadly intent as he studied your smaller form on the floor at his feet. "No one else knows about your shadows? Not even your family?”

You shook your head, staring up at him with wide eyes. You watched his eyes glaze over in deep thought before he chuckled to himself. That did truly alarm you and you rose cautiously.

“I think you and I are going to be good friends, little shadow. Very good friends."

And that was how you started working for Rhysand. The next ten years were spent with the High Lord, doing whatever he requested of you, which was usually spying on those under the mountain. The two of you developed an unlikely friendship with each other.

When Feyre came along and finally released you all, Rhys brought you home with him, offering you an official job in his court. Not wanting to return to your father, you were more than happy to accept.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Azriel had been relieved when his brother had finally returned to them after forty-nine years apart. Relieved and then intrigued as he spotted the small figure peeking out from behind Rhysand with her big doe eyes. Rhysand had brought a little pet home with him, apparently. A little shadow as he affectionately called her.

He was taken aback by her once she had finally stepped out from behind Rhys. She was the most beautiful female he had ever laid eyes on. He hardly noticed the crow perched on her shoulder, so taken by her beauty.

His shadows had danced along his shoulders at the sight of her and he didn’t quite know what to make of their behavior until Rhys finally introduced you to the family.

Another shadowsinger.

Someone just like him.

He couldn’t lie. A million emotions had rushed through him at that moment but the most prominent one was a sort of instant affinity towards you. His own shadows had swirled around your crows, like even they found comfort in knowing there was someone else in the world that was like them—like him.

Later that night, as he watched you ascend up the stairs to your new room, you glanced over your shoulder at everyone one last time. Your eyes met his and the air was knocked out of his lungs like someone had landed a heavy blow to his sternum.

The one thing he had been dreaming of, hoping for, came to life. The mating bond snapped into place, a long golden string tying you to him. But you hadn’t faltered a step, merely turned around and retired to your room.

The bond hadn’t snapped for you, but that wasn’t alarming. It usually took a while for the female to feel it. In his panic, Azriel had dropped his mental shields and practically screamed his thoughts to Rhys about what had just happened.

Rhys was already planning on having Azriel give you lessons on your magic. It only made sense. He was over five hundred years old with more knowledge about his shadows than you at the young age of sixty-five. So he began his plans to push the two of you together.

For Azriel, it was like hitting two birds with one stone. He would train you on how to use your shadows more effectively and in turn, would also be spending time around you. Which would lead you to realizing the bond between you and him and hopefully, hopefully, you would be just as overjoyed about it as he was.

Azriel wasn’t conceited by any means, especially considering the nasty state of his hands, but he had gotten quite used to females and males falling at his feet for his attention.

You, however, seemed entirely unmoved by his appearance. Every subtle hint he tried to drop was ignored or just not noticed by you. You didn’t notice him when he sat next to you at dinner, didn’t ogle him when he took off his shirt during training, didn’t admire his wings when he sunned them while you were outside in the gardens.

Everything he did to try to capture your attention failed.

You were making him feel flustered—he was not used to having to put so much effort into chasing after others. Normally he was the one being chased.

Leave it to the Mother to gift him with a mate who was so utterly unaffected by his presence. On one hand, he enjoyed it. You never seemed afraid of him, never looked at his hands with disgust or pity. But on the other hand, you never seemed to notice him the way he wanted you to.

The war came and went, leaving him to realize he was going to have to change tactics with you. He was going to have to court you. He was going to have to…resort to poetry—something he never thought he’d have to do.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You were reading a book in the River House’s main sitting room, waiting for dinner to start. It was another family dinner night and everyone who didn’t currently live at the River House would likely be coming sometime soon.

So when the door opened and closed, you didn’t bat an eye. Didn’t even turn around as you heard footsteps coming down the foyer to where you sat. Not until someone cleared their throat behind you.

You twisted around on the settee to see Azriel standing in the archway with a bundle of flowers in his hand. You raised an eyebrow at him, wondering what he needed.

“Good evening, Y/n,” he said, his deep voice filling the space between you two.

A bit of anxiety began to climb up your throat, a common feeling whenever someone approached you. You still were not used to socializing with others, still hadn’t quite gotten used to even having people other than Rhysand want to talk to you.

“Hi,” you squeaked, closing your book shut a bit too hard. You winced at the noise.

He strided over to you, his wings tucked tight behind him like he was nervous. Even his shadows seemed to buzz around the air more frantically than normal.

“I brought these for you,” he said, holding out the flowers to you.

You blinked, looking between him and the flowers in confusion. What did he expect you to do with those?

You hesitantly reached out and took them from him, smiling awkwardly. The flowers were beautiful, the petals a soft silver, almost glowing like the moon.

“Oh, um, thank you?” You choked out the words, rising from the settee. You tucked your book against your chest like it would shield you from him.

He frowned a bit. “Do you…not like them?”

“N-no!” You stuttered. “No, I mean y-yes! Um, thank you. Again.”

“You're welcome,” he said with a tiny nod. Azriel’s lips twitched upwards, like you had just said something funny.

“I'm gonna go, um, do something with these.”

You brushed past Azriel before he could respond and scurried from the room, your heart pounding in your chest. The others still made you nervous but not quite like Azriel did. It was his presence alone that made your heart stutter in your chest.

“What the heck does he want me to do with these?” You hissed to your shadow crow who landed on your shoulder.

Perhaps he wants you to plant them in the garden with the other flowers.

You smacked your head with your book. “Oh my gods, duh! Why didn’t I think of that?”

You still had thirty minutes until dinner so you made your way outside to the gardens. You peered around, looking for an empty spot of dirt, which was hard because of all the work Elain had done out here.

You finally spotted one and set your book down on the metal wire table outside. When the weather was nice enough, sometimes Feyre and Rhysand would host dinners out here, at this table.

You scuttled over to the edge of the stone path and knelt on the ground. You began digging a small hole, unsure of how deep you were supposed to go.

You were so concentrated on your efforts that you failed to notice the people who began to come out from the back door.

You placed the stems of the flower in the hole, pushing some dirt around so they stood up straight.

“Y/n? What on earth are you doing?” Feyre exclaimed from behind you, causing you to jump in fright.

You looked over your shoulder to see nearly the entirety of the Inner Circle, all taking seats at the table behind you.

You stood up, wiping your dirty hands on your skirt.

“Azriel wanted some flowers planted,” you shrugged, looking towards the male who was now staring at you with total bewilderment on his normally unreadable face.

He blinked and then shook his head, his lips twitching into a small smile.

“What?” Cassian blurted out.

You looked between everyone, not sure why they were so confused. Was it not normal to bring someone flowers to plant?

“He brought me some flowers,” you explained slowly, “to plant out here.”

Rhys reached out and ruffled the hair on the top of your head, fondly, as he held back his laughter. Several of them shared a look, lips pressing together like they were stopping themselves from laughing. All except Cassian who looked at Azriel and then tossed his head back, cackling with amusement.

It was Mor who took pity on the shadowsinger.

“That was very nice of you, Azriel,” she said, smoothly, kicking Cassian under the table.

“Yeah,” Cassian said in between his struggles to stop laughing. “How nice of you, Az.”

Later that night, Nesta had pulled you aside to offer you a book.

“Read this,” she had said. “I think it’ll help.”

She left the book in your hands with a wink.

You stayed up all night reading the book—blushing red at some of the words written on the pages. But when you got to the part where the male love interest brought the girl flowers, you were mortified.

Azriel had given you those as a gift…to put in a vase, wherever you pleased. The girl had put them on her nightstand in the book.

But that didn’t make sense to you because Azriel was your friend. He wasn’t interested in you like that. But maybe, friends also brought friends flowers? The whole thing confused you and you went to bed that night utterly perplexed.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Come on,” Azriel encouraged, his arms around your neck, pulling your back tight against his front. “I’ve taught you how to get out of this hold.”

You were currently having a one-on-one combat lesson with Azriel, something you two had been doing for awhile. He had suggested it to you after you started training with the Valkyries and you agreed, a part of you wanting to spend more time with him.

You liked Azriel and even though he made you feel a little more uncomfortable than the others, you had taken to him. It wasn’t that the feelings were bad, necessarily. It was just, he made you feel all tingly inside and that often made you flustered around him.

You grabbed a hold of his wrists like he had taught you, pulling them away from your neck as you got one leg behind his. You knew what he wanted you to do from here, but you wanted to surprise him for once. Wanted to catch him off guard.

Your crows squawked their encouragement from the sidelines.

“What are they telling you?” Azriel asked, suspiciously. His breath tickled the tip of your pointy ear, making your body shudder. You could’ve sworn his tensed in response.

“Nothing,” you chimed, innocently.

And then you swept his legs out from under him, ducking out of his hold in his confusion and shoving him in the back so he fell face forward onto the mat. You pounced after him, landing with your knees around his hips, pressing your hands down on his shoulder blades between his wings so he couldn’t get up.

“Got you!”

Azriel’s body vibrated with his chuckle. “Oh, you think so?”

He bucked you off of him, causing you to squeal, as he turned himself over and flipped your positions, leaving you on your back under him. He smirked at you, some of his fluffy dark brown hair dangling down on his forehead, almost touching yours.

“Got you,” he drawled.

"No fair," you pouted, crossing your arms under him.

Butterflies swarmed your stomach at the feeling of his body against yours. You sent a crow after him, pecking him on the back of the neck, to get him to move, unsure of how long you could handle that feeling without saying something stupid.

He sat up on his haunches, batting it away with a glower at you. "What's not fair?"

"You're not fair! You weigh the same as a horse," you grumbled. "I bet you eat rocks for breakfast, you big bat."

He chuckled, standing up and reaching his gloved hand out to help you up. "I assure you, I do not eat rocks...not for breakfast, at least."

So he did eat rocks? How odd, you thought. But if chefs could make turnips taste good, maybe they could make rocks edible? Maybe like a rock soup or tiny pebble croutons. Did all Illyrians eat rocks?

Once you were up, Azriel began to smooth out your hair. The gesture felt intimate and you blushed a bright pink. He seemed to notice, judging by the slight smile on his face. You frowned at him.

"Come on, don't be a sore loser," he teased, putting a hand on your lower back and guiding you towards the water station. "Our time today is up, anyways."

"How convenient for you," you murmured under your breath, causing him to laugh again. Your crows flew a lap around the training ring, as if the noise delighted them. It may have delighted you as well.

His hand moved around your waist until it dipped down to grab your own hand. “Allow me to make it up to you?”

“How?” You glanced up at his towering figure.

“Let me take you to dinner,” he said, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “Tonight.”

“O-oh, okay,” you stammered out.

He smiled, exposing the small dimple on the right side of his cheek that made him look more boyish than normal. Your heart fluttered in your chest.

He pulled you closer to him and a second later, you were engulfed in shadows, only to reappear on the doorstep to the River House.

“Good.” He dropped your hand finally and you clutched it to your chest. “I’ll come get you at seven.”

You nodded, feeling a bit breathless and he dipped his head at you before disappearing into the shadows and leaving you and your pounding heart alone on the doorstep.

Dinner that night felt like a dream. Azriel had shown up right on time, waiting for you in the foyer of the River House. He took you to a small restaurant on the side of the Sidra and you spent most of the night admiring the way he looked under the faelights.

Had he always been so beautiful?

You couldn’t remember.

After dinner, Azriel had taken you on a walk near the river. The moonlight reflected off the dark water, lighting the path. You stumbled upon a cool looking rock and eagerly picked it up, holding it out for him.

He raised an eyebrow at you, taking the rock from your hand.

“Your dessert,” you exclaimed, closing his fingers around the rock before stepping back.

“What?” His eyebrows furrowed and you decided you liked the way he looked when he was confused.

“Earlier, you said you didn't eat rocks for breakfast.” You rubbed at your arm. “So that must mean you eat them at some point of the day. So I thought, maybe you save them for dessert?”

By the time you were done talking, Azriel’s eyebrows were almost at his hairline. You were surprised when a barking laugh exploded out of him, your cheeks turning pink. You hesitantly smiled, not quite sure why he was laughing but loving the sound of it anyways.

“I take it you, um, don’t eat rocks?” You smiled sheepishly.

“That was a joke, Y/n,” he laughed, his hazel eyes shimmering gold and green.

“Y-yeah, of course it was!” You tried to play it off but you couldn’t hide your embarrassment.

He put the rock in his pocket as his laughter settled down. He placed both hands on the side of your head, kissing your forehead as he mumbled with affection, “What are we going to do with you?”

“Hopefully nothing bad,” you squeaked.

Azriel shook his head again with a soft laugh, grabbing your hand and guiding you further down the path. “I can’t believe you really thought I ate rocks.”

“I-I didn’t!”

He only gave you a disbelieving look.

It had almost felt like a date…like the ones you read about in the books Nesta leant you. But you quickly drowned out those thoughts. Azriel was your friend. And he had taken you out tonight as a favor.

But by the time he returned you home, there was a new light inside of you. Like a song with a familiar melody that made every nerve inside of you sing to its tune.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Unfortunately, Azriel was sent on a mission not too long after the night you shared together but he had promised to write to you during the three weeks he would be gone.

You found yourself quite eager to receive them.

Little shadow, I’ve got something for you. Come to my office when you’re free.

Rhys’s voice had you setting down the dagger you had been sharpening. You sent a crow to his office, curious to know what he had waiting for you.

A letter, master.

You jumped up from your desk. It must be a letter from Azriel because you had no idea who else would be writing you.

Tell your crows to mind their own business. They’ve ruined the surprise.

You laughed to yourself as you let your shadows cocoon you and take you to Rhys’s office. You stepped out of the shadows and Rhys raised an eyebrow at you.

“Eager?” He seemed amused.

You scowled at him. “You have a letter for me?”

He nodded, picking up an envelope off his desk and holding it out for you to take. You grabbed it, recognizing the handwriting your name was written with on the front immediately.

“Would you like to tell me why my Spymaster is sending me letters for you with his mission updates, little shadow?”

Rhys’s violet eyes sparkled with stars as he waited for your reaction. Your face turned pink and you clutched the letter to your chest. “Mind your own business, Rhys,” you mocked him.

He held up his hands with a grin that told you he already knew exactly why Azriel was sending you letters. You summoned your shadows to take you back to your room.

“Hey! Where are you going? You’re not going to let me read it too?” Rhys called out.

“No!”

Rhys’s chuckled followed you the whole way back to your room.

You tore open the envelope once you were in privacy, unfolding the letter with shaky hands.

Dear Y/n,

I find my days feel slower without the joy of your company. Even my shadows seem to miss their pesky crow companions.

You blushed, feeling your crows swirl around your head as if they too were swooning. Your eyes rapidly read the rest of the letter as he mentioned tiny tidbits about the mission and how it was going, asking you if you were keeping up with your training and teasing you about settling your score with him once he returned.

A smile had bloomed on your face as you finished reading—your heart fluttering in your chest.

I will continue to write to you, little bird, and I can only hope that you write back to me as well. I dream of your voice but I suppose words will have to be enough until I can see you again.

~ Your shadowsinger

P.s I came across something in the marketplace today that reminded me of you and I cannot wait to give it to you once I return.

You didn’t think twice before sitting down at your desk and whipping out a piece of parchment and a pen. That smile lingered on your face the rest of the night.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Three weeks passed by slowly. You couldn’t count how many times you had re-read the letters Azriel had been sending you. You had even made a trip to the marketplace to find a nicely carved, wooden box to store them in.

You were currently sitting on the railing of your balcony, a small shadow crow perched on your shoulder to keep you company. It was nighttime and the streets of Velaris were lit up with music, laughter and pretty faelights.

You preferred to watch from here, rather than joining in, despite Mor’s attempts to drag you to Rita’s.

The beating of wings stole your attention from the streets and you narrowed your eyes as a flying figure came into view. Cobalt siphons shined under the moonlight and your eyes widened as you realized that figure was Azriel.

Not only that, but he appeared to be heading straight towards your balcony as if he had known you’d be out here. You quickly hopped off the railing and stepped back a few paces to give him room to land.

Azriel landed gracefully with a small thud in front of you, tucking his wings in. He looked positively lethal tonight, his elegant cheekbones sharp in the darkness, his hazel eyes glowing gold. Beautiful. He was beautiful.

“Azriel,” you whispered in a questioning tone. “I didn’t know you were back from your mission.”

“I just got back,” he said, his voice dark like the night sky. It sent a shiver down your spine. “I wanted to see you first, before I check in with Rhys.”

“O-oh,” you stammered, blushing bright pink. You rubbed at your arm, suddenly feeling exposed in just your nightgown. “Well, I’m glad you’re back. They are too.”

You gesture towards the crow sitting on your shoulder still. Azriel’s shadows swirled in tendrils towards it until it flew off, the shadows trailing behind it, like they were also catching up.

You smiled at them as they disappeared in the night sky before turning your gaze back to Azriel. His eyes swept up your form, a muscle in his jaw clenching. When his eyes met yours again, there was a small heat in them that caused the butterflies in your stomach to go haywire.

It was gone a second later and you wondered if you had imagined it. You cleared your throat. “How was the mission?”

“Good. Fine,” Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Though I’m happy to be back.”

You smiled up at him, shyly. Your voice was caught in your throat as you scrambled through your brain for something to say. But it seemed like Azriel didn’t mind your silence.

He reached a hand out, brushing a piece of your hair behind your ear before stroking your cheek with his knuckles. He was staring at you so intensely, as if you were the only thing that mattered to him in the moment.

“I should go check in with Rhys,” he mumbled. “I just wanted to see your face, to make sure the one I see in my dreams is accurate.”

Your chest warmed, your blush turned red.

“I-is it?”

Your voice was a soft whisper in the gentle breeze.

Azriel shook his head with a small smile. “No. Nothing can ever compare to seeing you in person.”

His grabbed the hand dangling by your side.

“Get some rest, little bird,” he said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles before disappearing in a swirl of shadows. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your skin tingly from his touch. Even long after you fell asleep.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You stared at yourself in the mirror after slipping on the gown Rhysand had left for you. It was time to make a trip to the Court of Nightmares, to Hewn City—your old home. You hated these visits. They brought back terrible memories but like the rest of the court, you sucked it up for Rhys’s sake.

He had given you a silk, cobalt blue gown. It swept to the floor, flowing only slightly away from your body in an elegant sheath silhouette. Thin straps held up the form-fitting bodice with a slight cowl neckline. It was simple, but beautiful.

A knock on your door pulled your attention away from your reflection.

“One second,” you called out as you slipped on the heels you had picked out to wear with the dress before making your way to the door. You pulled it open to see Azriel standing there in his full leathers, all seven siphons gleaming in the light.

His eyes widened as they trailed over your form. You suddenly felt self-conscious. When he met your gaze again, he cleared his throat and you held the door open so he could step inside your room, trying to brush off that feeling.

“Did you need something?” You asked.

His hands were in his pocket as he turned to face you. “I wanted to give you something before we leave for Hewn City. I mentioned it in my first letter.”

You nodded, remembering his written words clearly. Gods know how many times you had trailed your fingertips over that sentence with a stammering heart.

“Okay,” you squeaked, suddenly feeling nervous.

He gestured at you to turn around and you were once again facing yourself in the mirror. He stalked towards you like an angel from hell, his wings held out like every proud Illyrian male.

He pulled a small black box from his pocket and took something out of it. With one hand, he brushed your hair to one shoulder. His fingertips grazed your bare skin, sending a small shiver through your body.

Cold metal grazed your chest as he hung a necklace around your neck, letting it fall between your breasts as he clasped it from behind.

Your eyes rounded as you looked at it. It was a beautiful necklace, a blood red heart encased in twisting gold plating. You brushed your fingers against it, admiring it as a piece of art.

“It looks beautiful on you,” Azriel whispered, his breath brushing against your throat. “Just like I imagined.”

You swallowed, blushing. “It’s beautiful, Azriel. Thank you.”

His scarred fingers ran down your arm softly. “You are beautiful. Absolutely stunning, Y/n. I hope you know that.”

Your lips parted, ready to say something but Rhys’s voice interrupted.

Everyone to the foyer. It’s time to go.

You twisted in Azriel’s hold, staring up at him. He smiled down at you, his hazel eyes full of warmth. He grasped your hand in his. “Shall we?”

You could only nod, still at a loss for words.

An hour later, you were resting against a pillar in Hewn City’s throne room, watching Eris twirl around with Nesta. That had been the goal tonight, to entice Eris into proposing a marriage alliance. Even though she was doing this as a favor for your rulers, you couldn’t help but admire the two dancers. Watching them was like watching a real-life fairytale from one of the romance books.

You wished someone would look at you the way Cassian stared at Nesta as she danced, wished someone would have interest in you, desire you. You didn’t use to want those things because none of it would’ve been your choice, but now? Well, you could dream.

Your mind drifted to Azriel and all the little ways he had been treating you lately. Something sparked in your chest at the thought of him. Some of his gestures did seem romantic in nature, but other times, you wondered if he just saw you the way Rhys did…a little shadow, young and inexperienced.

“Would you like to dance?”

You stood up straight, blinking as Azriel appeared in front of you. Heat crawled up your neck as you looked at the shadowsinger, trying to push away all the thoughts you just had about him. Your eyes darted from the dance floor to his pretty hazel eyes.

“Y-you want to dance?” You looked at him almost disbelieving. “With me?”

“With only you,” he murmured, giving you a small smile. He held out his hand to you and you grappled with your pounding heart as you took it. The last song had just finished, the new strings starting up as he led you to the dance floor.

He slid a hand around your waist, pulling you close as you settled your free hand on his shoulder. As usual, both of your shadows had departed, as if they were spending time on their own. Movement caught your eye and you looked up to see one of your crows perched on a railing, a small shadow tendril swishing around it.

“We have an audience,” you whispered to Azriel, nodding your head towards the shadows.

His lips twitched as he followed your gaze. It had been jarring for him at first, to be so exposed without his shadows every time he was around you. But now it was comforting, a break from the constant darkness around him.

“Better put on a show,” he teased, twirling you around in his arms.

You laughed, letting him lead you through the movements, staying on beat with every pluck of a string. You danced in silence, your eyes never straying from his hazel ones. The throne room blurred in your peripheral, making it feel like it was just you and Azriel in this room together.

“Are you doing okay?” Azriel asked. “I know you don’t like coming here.”

“I’m fine,” you stammered. “It gets easier every time—seeing my family.”

Azriel’s eyes hardened at the mention of your family. He knew the story of how you got your shadows. A story not much different than his. He hadn’t told you, but before tonight, he had made a little visit to your family’s home and threatened your father into staying away from you tonight.

“If you want to leave, just say the word,” Azriel said. “I’ll deal with Rhys.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “I’ll be fine. Promise.”

Azriel nodded his head but his grip on your waist tightened. The pair of you did another circle around the room before he spoke again. “You know, I have you to thank for how fast I was able to complete that mission for Rhys.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You,” he drawled, “Are a good motivator. I was counting down the seconds until I could return to you.”

Your cheeks heated, those damn butterflies in your stomach returned.

“Well, I’m glad I could help,” you squeaked, averting your eyes, shyly.

Azriel chuckled to himself, endeared by your mannerisms. The song came to a close and he dropped his hand from your waist but didn’t let go of your other one. He pulled it to his lips, kissing the back of your hand softly. “Thank you for dancing with me, little bird.”

You smiled back with a dip of the head. “I-I enjoyed it.”

“Good,” Azriel grinned before his eyes glazed over for a second and he frowned. “Rhys needs me for something. I’ll come find you once I’m done.”

“Okay,” you whispered. He reluctantly let your hand fall back to your side before pulling away, heading towards the High Lord. You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, clutching a hand to your chest as you headed towards the back of the room again.

You were halfway back to your pillar when you heard someone mention your name. You frozen behind a statue, peering through the gaps to see a group of three females standing together, gossiping.

“I don’t know what he sees in her,” one of them mumbled. “Probably likes her because she’s a freak like him. Such a shame he’s a lesser fae.”

“I bet the High Lord told him to court her so he could keep both shadowsingers in his court to use,” another one laughed. “She’s so strange. I saw her talking to one of her crows earlier.”

“I think she’s pretty,” the third one whispered, shyly. “Even if she’s a little strange.”

“A little?” the first one scoffed with a laugh.

You rushed away, not wanting to hear anymore. You scurried out of the throne room and down the empty corridor, finding a small alcove to hide in. Tears lined your eyes as you thought on their words. You had thought maybe Azriel liked you, had wanted him to. But it was wishful thinking. No one would ever be interested in you that way. They were right. You were too strange, too off-putting.

You wiped at your tears bitterly.

“Y/n?” Azriel’s voice came from behind you. “What are you doing out here?”

Of course, he would show up right now. While you were crying over him. You turned slowly, trying to blink away your tears. “I-I just needed a break from the crowd.”

Azriel’s face dropped as he noticed the tear tracks on your cheeks. He took a step closer, reaching a hand out to cup your cheek. “Hey, what’s wrong? Did someone do something to you?”

You shook your head quickly. “No…No, nothing like that. I’m just…overwhelmed.”

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” Azriel pleaded, rubbing his thumb against your cheek.

“You’ll think I’m stupid,” you whispered.

Azriel shook his head. “Never. I would never think you’re stupid, Y/n.”

You bit your lip, looking at the floor. Part of you wanted to tell him, to get a direct answer to your questions. But the other part of you was mortified at the thought of letting him know what you heard and how you felt about him.

“Please,” he murmured again.

You let out a sigh. “I just…overheard some girls talking about me. It’s not a big deal.”

“Who?” Azriel asked, his voice a touch darker.

You shrugged, looking back up at him. “I don’t know. Just some faeries who know me from here.”

“What could they have possibly said to upset you?”

It all came pouring out before you could stop it, the words spilling from your lips so quickly they almost slurred together. “They said I was strange and weird. But that doesn’t bother me. I hear it all the time. But…but they said the High Lord probably ordered you to ‘court’ me so I wouldn’t leave the Night Court. That there was no other reason you’d be interested in me—”

“Stop,” Azriel cut you off, causing your lips to slam shut. “I don’t need to hear anymore, Y/n, because everything they said is complete bullshit. First off, Rhys would never give an order like that. You know him.”

You nodded along but the pit of your stomach still ached.

“And I am interested in you. Not your shadows or your place in this court, I’m interested in you,” Azriel said. “I…I thought that might be obvious by now.”

Your lips parted in surprise as you looked up at him with wide eyes. He chuckled, running a hand through his hair, at your expression.

“Y-you,” you stammered, “You are?”

“Yes, Y/n, I am more than just interested in you,” Azriel said. “I am enamored by you. You are the one I seek out each time I enter a room. Every stolen glance, every brush of your fingers, every smile you gift me, is a treasure I hold in my heart. I am completely and utterly taken by you, Y/n. It pains me that you would doubt my affections for even a second.”

You were speechless. He had taken the breath right from your lungs. Your heart was singing that melody again, the one it had sung that night he had taken you out for dinner. You stared up at him, into his hazel eyes that looked at you with reverence and warmth. His hand still cupped your face, his other pushed a piece of hair behind your ears with a gentle touch.

“So…all those things you…all the stuff you did—”

“Yes, Y/n, I have been trying to win your heart,” Azriel interjected for you. “The way you won mine since the moment I laid eyes on you. Not a day goes by where you are not on my mind. I am and have been bewitched by you. You have my heart and soul, little bird, if you’ll have it.”

The melody playing in your soul struck its final chord, releasing a golden thread that snapped the minute you met Azriel’s eyes again. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding. Mate. Mate. Azriel was your mate.

“Y-you,” you choked out, eyes rounded. “You’re my mate.”

Azriel’s eyes were hopeful as he nodded. “Yes and you are mine.”

“You knew…this whole time?”

He nodded again. “I did but I didn’t want to force you into something. I wanted you to find out on your own, after we had spent time together.”

You swallowed audibly.

Mate.

Azriel was your mate.

You weren’t even sure what to say. Your head was buzzing as your thoughts sped through your brain. The longer you stayed silent, the more the expression on Azriel’s face dropped until he looked uncertain. But you couldn’t shake yourself from your stupor.

“Will you have me?” Azriel asked, slowly. You could feel his insecurity down the bond and you knew you had to say something—anything to reassure him.

“Yes,” you stammered. “Azriel, I… I have never felt this way about someone. I wasn’t sure I would ever. But you… I l-love you.”

You blurted out the last three words, turning bright red as you stumbled over your speech. His eyes widened.

You weren’t sure when you had fallen in love with him. Had it been that night you walked along the Sidra? Or maybe sometime during training? All you knew was what you felt for him, something that didn’t seem to have a name until this very moment.

You let out a breath as a smile overtook Azriel’s face. He rested his forehead against yours with a deep breath.

“I love you too, little bird,” he said. “You have my heart, my soul, my devotion until the end of everything.”

“And you have me,” you whispered.

Azriel pulled back to look at you, lifting your chin with a finger.

“May I kiss you?”

Your heart stuttered.

“Y-yes.”

That was all he needed to hear. Azriel surged forward and kissed you hard with so much heat, so much craving that you stumbled back against the wall. His large hands fisted the silk fabric at your waist, pulling you against him before one hand rested on your hip while the other slid into your hair slowly.

All your thoughts ceased at that moment. All you could feel was Azriel’s hard body pressed against yours, so closely you swore you could feel his own heart beating against yours. And his lips were so warm, so soft against yours.

When he finally pulled away, you were both panting. Your cheeks were red, your lips swollen, and the mating bond sang it's pretty song in your chest as you gazed up at Azriel.

“We should get back,” he mumbled, though he looked like he was ready to take you right there in the middle of this corridor. “Before anyone notices us gone.”

He held his hand out to you with a smile. You took it, letting him pull you down the corridor, hand in hand, giggling like a schoolgirl the entire way back.

The crow that had been watching this whole time, swooped away to follow after you two, a small tendril of shadow following close behind.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

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