#angsty morrigan

[redbleedingrose]

Always - Part 6

Azriel x Reader

Summary: You and Azriel have been best friends for years after you joined the inner circle as the top healer in Velaris. But with Elain and Nesta’s recent arrival, Azriel has begun to ignore your friendship in favor of being together with Elain. You are heartbroken, and it is Starfall where you will be confined in the house of wind with Azriel and Elain. Everything will be okay though… right?

Warnings: Smut (Minors DNI, 18+), angst, straight up angst, cursing, first time writing Word count ~ 4.8k. Masterlist  Part 7

A/N: Hello my lovely readers!!! Thank you so much for your patience and everlasting support. The end is fucking near!!!!! I think part 7 may be your last part followed with an epilogue. I really struggled to write the smut in this chapter, and its kinda shocking considering the amount of smut I read lmfao. But, we got through it. Step 1 studying is keeping me busy, so please send some positive vibes. I love your comments, reblogs, likes, and asks, so please please please keep them coming. I am in constant need of validation as a writer; any interaction means so much to me. I hope that you guys enjoy this chapter as much as I did, and as always (no pun intended), I hope it does the other parts justice. 

Azriel shushes you, kissing away the tears that had rolled down your cheeks, “I will Y/N,” he whispers into his kisses. His scarred hands traveled up your waist from where he was straddling you, up to your hands that lay beside your head, fisting the silk sheets beneath. His fingers gently pull your grasp open before intertwining your hands together, his half-lidded gaze meets yours as he peers into your soul. The only sounds filling your bedroom are the sounds of your breath mixing with his. The only light in the room is coming from the fire cracking in the hearth, darkness swarms the room as his shadows cocoon you both into the bed. Impatience was growing steadily within you, you arched your back, bucking your hips against his, “Az- please,” but he only pressed further into you, stopping any movement. But you felt it, his hard length catching right where you needed him, his membranous wings flared out covering the entire bed. A whimper escaped you as your eyes fluttered shut, remembering the drunk conversations with Morr and Feyre about the correlation of wing span and a not so inconspicuous part of Illyrian males. “Patience dove, We have all the time in the world. You’re mine.” 

You wanted to snark back at him. But you couldn't, not when the smell of his arousal overwhelmed every one of your senses. Gods, you wanted him desperate for you. You wanted him to be frenzied for you. 

Finally, after what felt like centuries trapped beneath him in waiting, Azriel squeezed your hands thrice, “Open your eyes for me, sweetheart.” You forced your eyes open as he dropped his head into your neck, pressing rough kisses into your skin as his fingers moved to play with the waistband of your pants. He kept moving up and down, kissing and licking every inch of your skin, trying to find your most sensitive part that would cause you to shatter beneath him. Breathless. You were fucking breathless. You couldn’t breathe. Every part of you was consumed by him. And he was only fucking kissing your neck. But you never wanted him to stop. You wanted him to kiss you forever. You wanted him to love on you forever. He shuddered against you when he lapped at your skin, allowing himself to savor your taste. Your moan fused with your gasp right when he bit into that juncture between your neck and collarbone, arching your back, trying to egg him on. He shifted swiftly, focusing his efforts onto suckling at the tender spot, soothing it in apology as your skin darkened.

He slowly pulled away, like he was struggling to do so, like he wanted to continue devouring your neck, and turned his half lidded gaze to you, tugging at your pants, silently asking for permission. Puffs of breath between you intermingled as you leaned your head back into the soft pillow behind you, closing your eyes once again as you nodded lightly, the excitement, the anticipation of it all, overwhelming you. That's how it was with Az, overwhelming. Even when you were just friends, every part of him was all consuming. You could never get enough. Azriel, ever the inquisitive one, received your signal almost immediately, tugging your pants off in a smooth motion. 

His breath caught, head falling into your shoulder as he caught sight of your throbbing sex. Every drop of pleasure drips down to your thighs and onto the bed. You shivered when he bit into your shoulder this time, hard, teeth leaving indents into the smooth skin. “Mother above,” he rasped out, “No panties sweetheart?” He let out a shaky breath, the scent of his arousal became much more potent in your bedroom, and he gripped your chin, pulling you forward, “Eyes open, Y/N.” An order from the spymaster that had your eyes shooting open. The tone in his voice to anyone else would have had them trembling at their knees, begging for mercy, but here, with you, that tone. That voice. It told you everything. It told you that he was losing control, quickly, and that he was desperately trying to get a handle on it. 

You smirked up at him, finally having the upper hand. You didn’t need to respond, you had him just where you wanted him, just where you needed him. Every second that passed between you felt more urgent then the next. And he was going to give in. Give in to you.This patient act of the spymaster was just that, an act. Gods, it was practically his job to be patient, but you knew. You were seconds from pushing him over the edge, and you knew that when he would fall over, only carnal desire would be left in him. You hiked your legs onto his hip, giving him full view and access to your cunt. He sucked in a sharp breath as his digits dipped into your folds, stroking up to your clit, circling once, tightly, before pulling away, enjoying himself as he watched you respond to his touch. Gods, you could scream. Rumor has it Az was the darkest and the most relentless in his bedroom activities compared to his brothers. Cauldron boil you, his endless teasing was only proof. And you wanted it to stop. But you also wanted him to keep going, to see how far he could push you into depravity, as shameless as it sounded. 

His grip on your chin turned your gaze away from him and towards his glistening fingers that he had lifted into view, soaked with your arousal as he brought them up to his lips, sucking off the juices as he whined out at your taste. “This all for me, Dove?” 

He sounded… Gods, he sounded intoxicated. Intoxicated off you. You whimpered in response, nodding eagerly, trying to get him to touch you, to fuck you, anything as all the blood rushed down to where you ached. You flung your arms away from their resting place beside you, and reached down to tear his shirt off, desperate for more. Desperate for more contact. Desperate for more skin. Desperate for him. The spymaster’s teasing left you insatiable, you couldn't get enough, you could never get enough. Before you could lift his shirt up past his waist, his shadows gripped onto your wrists, pulling them away and locking them up above your head. Restraining you from another further movement. 

The shadowsinger’s chest rose and fell with harsh breaths, as he tried to collect himself from your admission, his restraint completely lost. He tapped at your thighs, and unlatched your legs from his waist silently, fingers moving to grip your thighs as he lowered himself to face your sex, like he needed some kind of support to keep him from collapsing. He breathed in once, twice, hazel eyes rolling back at your scent, before blowing his exhale onto the sensitive skin causing you to writhe, “Az, please.” You didn’t know how much more waiting you could handle. You felt like you were going to explode. His eyes locked onto yours, the sudden voice knocking him out of his stupor. His swollen lips lifted into a smirk at you, “So needy for me, dove,” before he latched onto your core and moaned into you. 

You jerked against his lips, panting out his name, trying to squeeze your legs shut at the sudden electrifying sensation. You almost fell apart right then and there, you whimpered at him, “Fuck baby.” His fingers clenched at your thighs, his grip tight enough to leave light bruising for you to deal with in the morning, and his shadows wrapped around your ankles, pulling you apart to hold you open for him to feast upon. He gave you a long broad stroke through your folds before he swirled his tongue around your clit, over and over and over and over again. He pulled back for just a second to blow a whisper of air on it, the cool air caused your entire body to shudder, before going back in to lick, suck, kiss at the flesh. His scarred digits brushed against your opening, circling it a couple of times as his tongue flicked his name onto your mound before pushing in. 

Your jaw dropped, as he stroked one finger, and then two, and then three, into your silky inner walls. Pounding his fingers in and out, in and out, with no mercy. His fingers curved and hit the spongy part of your inner wall spontaneously, a strangled noise left you as he adjusted his focus onto rubbing right there. He huskily purred into you, “taste so good f’me sweetheart.” Your cunt clamped down at his words, trying to keep him inside, begging him to keep going, begging him to never stop.

Your heart was racing out of your chest, every part of you was burning from the heat, as you felt your core tighten. The coiling tension in your abdomen was building at a steady pace. You were trembling, nerves on fire, his name coming out in gasps. Only his name and nothing else, nothing could come to mind. “Cum for me, dove.” His command was so strong. So powerful. “Cum for me,” he groaned again. Your eyes squeezed shut, and a golden thread snapped into place, as the tension in you broke, choked sobs leaving your lips, waves of pleasure racked your entire shaking body, as your walls began to spasm and contract around his fingers. 

Pleasure. Jaw dropping pleasure. Mind-empty pleasure. Tears slipping down your cheeks pleasure. Colors bursting around you pleasure. Unimaginable pleasure. Coursing through you. Coursing through that thread, down to the other end. Sinking to your pores. Slipping into the very cells that make you up. You couldn’t think. Nothing had settled in. Only Az. Everything that ever was, everything that is, everything that ever will be is him. Is the spymaster. Is the shadowsinger. Is Azriel. 

The aftershock rocked your body as you slumped over, trying to catch your breath for the first time in what felt like hours, Azriel’s whispers came to the forefront of your mind, “So good for me, sweetheart,” dulling out any attention to the recent thread that had appeared within you. He continued as he pulled his fingers out of you tenderly, “You did so good for me, I’m so proud of you.” He slowly kneaded at your thighs, kissing gently into the taut skin trying to get you to relax. His shadows release you from where you were held, as you continue to pant from the aftermath. Your eyes stayed shut, trying to focus on the sound of your voice when it hit you. 

The thread. The fucking thread. You tried to stay calm, not wanting to give anything away to Azriel. You gave a slow tug at the thread, expecting for nothing to come back, but to confirm that it was there. That you were not imagining it. Because if you were imagining it… well you don’t think you could handle that. What you weren’t expecting was the yank back, the pleasure and happiness and worry streaming down back at you. What you weren't expecting was the silent words that Azriel mouthed into your skin, “I love you mate.” 

You barely heard it, locked into focus on the bond that had appeared at your climax. He mouthed it into your skin so quietly, you literally almost entirely missed it in the haze of it all. But words like that, they weren’t ones to be missed. They weren’t ones to be ignored. No. Those words were more. They were more than that. They- They rung. They rung in your head. They rung loud as your body froze. Ice water poured over you, as if a bucket of it had been flung onto you by Azriel himself. And suddenly, your breathlessness wasn’t from pleasure anymore, but from confusion. Any remaining bits of pleasure in your body were flung out by the words, replaced by the strain of trying to comprehend. Trying to comprehend the words he had just uttered. Trying to comprehend that your mating bond had snapped. Trying to comprehend that Azriel had felt it and tugged back. Azriel had tensed with you at the realization of what he had just admitted. Words that he probably never meant to slip out. His shadows suddenly flung around, the cool darkness of them covered him up as if he was trying to hide himself from you. 

It felt as though you had been stung by him. You shoved him off of you, your eyes darting back and forth between his pleading ones, as you scrambled to pull the comforter that had been shoved aside by your earlier activities to cover yourself. You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know what to say. After all this time, the words that you had craved for, the words that you had prayed for day in and day out, left you feeling stung. “What the fuck did you just say?” you blurted out. You couldn’t understand. You didn’t understand. You wanted to make sure you heard correctly, even though you were one hundred and ten percent sure of the words he had just uttered into your thigh. 

“Y/N,” Azriel's voice croaked as he murmured out your name, he reached out to touch you? Hold you? But your body jerked back. You didn’t want him to hold you. Not until he explained himself. Not until he told you what was going on. Not until he… well… you didn’t even know. The thought of him holding you right now made your skin itch, only seconds ago your body was shattered beneath him in pleasure, and now? Now, you couldn’t even think of that. Now, all the pain from this past week and month was coursing through you, through your bond, straight into him. His face fell at the sensation, and he dropped his arm back to his side, clenching his fists as he did so, staring at them with disgust. You repeated yourself again, voice louder, almost hysterical this time. 

His eyes shut tightly, and he took a couple of breaths before he throatily replied, “I love you Y/N. And I am your mate. And you are mine.” The last bit was so quiet, it muddled with the crackling of the embers and wood in the fireplace. You were completely and utterly stunned. This was not how you expected for your night to go. This was not how you expected for all this to go down. In fact, you had almost thought to yourself a couple of different times that any feelings you had towards Az, were unrequited. Especially when Elain had come into the picture. The thought of Elain brought on a whole shitload of questions to your attention.

Exhaustion threatened you, it made you want to collapse and tell Azriel to leave. Your heart had fallen deep in your chest, the knot in your throat paralyzed you. But you knew, gods you knew, the only way you and Az were going to get through this, was to talk it out right now. Selfishly, you didn’t want to. You wanted to go back and rewind time to a couple minutes ago and live in it forever, and forget that this had ever happened. You wanted to stop this moment from continuing because you were scared, and you were angry.  The flames of anger towards Azriel shot out, dread filled you because now everything that had happened these past few months was made worse. 

The thought of not knowing why Azriel pushed you away had become a thousand times heavier in your chest, he had known you were mates. He had known you were mates, and yet he still pushed you away. You hissed out, trying to maintain your composure, trying to not let him see how much this was effecting you, trying to build distance between you and on top of that a wall to separate you two, “How fucking long have you known?” Any intimacy that you had held for him during this night, was lost into the darkness of his shadows. You silently hoped that the bond had just snapped for him as well, but his reactions to your anger and sadness were only pointing you in the other direction.  His wings tucked tightly into his back, he almost cowered at your tone and hesitated, “I’ve known since-,” you interrupted him, throwing any mental shields up, trying to block him out from the bond, and already impatient with his slowed response time, “Since when Spymaster?” He flinched at the name as though he hated hearing you call him that, a pained whimper left his lips at you distancing yourself from him, “A little before under the mountain.” 

Hell had fucking frozen over. You laughed breathlessly in shock, it wasn’t funny. No, this was the most confused you had ever been. Since before Amarantha’s reign? That had been more than half a century ago. A mix of emotions were flooding through you, as you tried to process what Azriel was saying. A mix of happiness because mother above, how you were in love with Azriel words could not describe, but also pain because of the loss of time you could’ve shared together, pain because of his recent acts of pushing you away, pain because he had hid this from you, confusion as to why he hid this from you. 

Why hadn’t he said anything? In all your years of knowing him, Azriel was the kind of male who obsessed after mating bonds. He had told you himself, many different times: whenever he was drunk, whenever he was sober, whenever he was jealous of his brother's bonds, how he wished and prayed for a mate. How he wished and prayed for his equal. How he would adore her and love her. “Even if she’s a fucking worm, Y/N,” he would reply, grinning at your ridiculous questions. Was he upset or disappointed by our match? Was he going to reject you for Elain? Was he ashamed? The ugly doubts all reared its head at you. All of your doubts. All the devastating emotions you had felt in the past couple of months, slammed back into you. 

You couldn’t think straight, all these thoughts and doubts were overwhelming with the pain. And you couldn’t do it anymore. You couldn’t deal with it any longer. It was stifling. “Were you even going to tell me before you slept with me?” The question was spit out, the knot in your throat was nearly choking you. You didn’t let him respond, “Please get out of my home Azriel.” You were the kind of person who said things they didn’t mean out of anger. And you were sure that if he stayed in your presence any longer, those words would come tumbling out. And there would be no way to fix the already existing damage. The damage that he had fucking done on what was supposed to be a beautiful and sacred bond. 

His gaze snapped to yours, tears were streaming down his cheeks as his face twisted in agony. You needed to come to terms with everything. Come to terms with the fact that he hid this bond, what was supposed to be a beautiful and happy thing, from you. Come to terms with the fact that he had pushed you away for months, knowing that you had been bonded with him. Come to terms that he might want to reject this bond, this beautiful, wonderful bond that you had prayed for. The thought made you shudder, heart dropping even further than it already had, but you had to come to grips with reality. Why else would he push you away? Why else would he focus so much of his time and attention on Elain, rather than focus on you and building your bond? None of it made sense. 

Azriel jostled, pulling you away from your thoughts, as though he could hear them and was hurting at them, he leaned towards you and grabbed onto your hands tightly, squeezing thrice.“No, no, no. Please Y/N. I am not letting you do this again. I am not letting you shove me out-” 

“You pushed me away Azriel,” you screamed with only venom in your voice, hysteria seeding through every part of you as you mentally placed bricks between you and him, blocking him off from reaching you through the bond. You didn’t know if you wanted him to remove his hands and never let him close again, or if you wanted him to hold on and let his warmth seep into your freezing flesh. You continued, “Even now, even after everything, you still don’t see where you went wrong, Az.” Panic oozed from him, draining the scent of arousal from your room, the bitter scent of his fear surrounding you. His eyes tried frantically to meet yours, begging you to look at him, begging you to see him. But you had seen him. For several months. As he ignored you. As he let you believe your friendship meant nothing to him. As he let you believe that you were being replaced. 

Even when Azriel was obsessed with Morr, he never let you doubt your place in his life. He was always there with you. He was always so reassuring of your presence, always so wanting of you. Anytime you were busy with patients, he would wait, hours upon hours, for the chance to speak with you. Anytime you were busy with paperwork, he would rush to help you so he could get even the slightest bit of your attention. And you could handle that. Because you loved him, and even though he longed after another, a small part of you knew that he loved you. Even if his love was platonic, it was enough. But with Elain, Gods you didn’t want to go through this again. You didn’t want to think about it again, you had been mulling over it for the past week, for the past couple of months, and you were sick of it. 

His mouth dropped open before snapping shut, several times, trying to let the words spill out, but all of them seemed to be stuck on the tip of his tongue. You had never seen Azriel so speechless, so stressed. Every part of him, the tight wings, his straightened back, his scarred hands gripping tightly onto yours, his shadows darting around the room screeching at him to say something, anything to rectify the situation pointed towards his distress. Part of you felt sorry for him, but you couldn’t let your love for him, your devotion to him, stop you from knowing the truth. The truth about why he had hidden this from you and had acted the way he had. Even if Azriel was your mate, you knew that it is important that you didn’t let him treat you this way, didn’t let him get away with what he had been doing. Because best friends don’t do that to each other. Mates don't do that to each other. 

You rambled out your sorrow, filling the silence between you, “Azriel, I can’t. I can’t do this if you don’t see what you did to me. You hurt me, to the point where I couldn’t breathe for a week. To the point where I couldn’t get myself out of bed for a week. I deserve better than that. And…  and I think you know that. And to now hear that you knew? You have known all this time, that we were mates, that you could feel my pain and had known about it. So I guess… I guess I don’t understand what it is that you were trying to do. I-... I don’t understand. I don’t understand you, Az.” You feel broken. You didn't want to admit it, but even if Az gave you an amazing apology or explanation for the way he had acted, you weren’t sure it would be enough… enough for you to move on from this. You didn’t know how you were going to come back from this. How you both were going to come back from this. “All I know for certain Az, is that I would’ve never done this to you. Never.” Your voice broke as you leaned back to stare at him, listening to what he has to say, giving him the chance to speak. 

He brought his hands to yank at his hair, his eyes were squeezed shut as tears slid down his cheeks, uncontrollable sobs escaping him, racking his chest. Ebbs of his regret reached you through the bond despite the mental block you had set up, which only meant the force of his regret was all consuming to him. His shadows swarmed you, trying to pull you in closer to their master, their cool touch leaving goosebumps on your naked skin. He took deep breaths as he tried to block out the ache in his chest, to concentrate on finding the right words to tell you everything that he had been thinking this past week, these past months, this half century he had lived in silence. 

At this point, you desperately wanted him to defend himself, you wanted him to explain, you wanted him to take the pain away, you wanted him to show he adores and loves you, prove he wants you. Because you were scared he didn’t. His earlier confession meant nothing in the face of your new reality you were coming to grips with. 

You had left the ball in his court. And you both knew that. You both also knew that this was the moment, the defining moment which would decide whether or not you would even allow the chance for Azriel to make up for his mistakes. He knew that this would be the moment you would decide if your relationship would move forward, or if you were going to let him go. And cauldron boil him alive for all he cares, he never wants you to let him go. He would rather burn alive a hundred times, heal over and over, just to be burnt alive again, knowing the pain already, his scarred hands bearing the evidence, rather than you letting him go, rather than you moving on however undeserving he is to have you, rather than you rejecting the bond. 

The tears continued to streak down his face, he gasped out in between his sobs, “Please Y/N. I am begging you, if you want I'll get on my knees. I promise you one hundred percent honesty, no lies, no deception, only the truth. Just… just don’t let this be the way we end tonight. Please. Please.” He reached his hand out again, hoping, praying on all the gods in the stars, on the mother above, on the cauldron, on whatever existed out there he didn’t know of, that you would hold onto it, that you would give him some semblance of reassurance that you would listen he knew he didn't deserve. 

And your traitorous hands reach out on their own volition to latch on, squeezing tight, trying to calm him, trying to reassure him, your love for him going beyond any description. “Okay,” you whispered out knowing he would hear you over his sobs. You weren’t sure that his explanation would be enough. But you wanted to know. You wanted to hear what he had to say. A big part of you that you buried deep within you wanted to forgive him. The feeling of hope snaked through you, as you prepared to listen to him. This time, without any interruption, without any judgment.  

He shuddered in a heavy breath, silencing his sobs. He had one chance to make this right, and he knew his fate was resting on his shoulders. “I want to start off by saying, I am sorry Y/N. I am so unbelievable and unimaginably sorry. I cannot express enough how sorry I am, but if you give me the chance, I will show you, every day, for the rest of our lives how sorry I am. I mean… I-,” he paused, and you squeezed his hand again, urging him to continue, “I want you to know that you have a choice here. You have a choice to accept the bond or reject the bond.” He shuddered as he whispered it out into existence, “I promise I won’t get in the way of whatever decision you want to make, and I promise to accept it, no matter the outcome. I… I don’t know where to begin.” His hazel eyes lifted to yours, pleading, he was floundering in fear. Tears brimmed at your eyes, you squeezed his hand once more, “Start at the beginning Az.”

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#azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel #smut #azriel smut #THIS IS SO ANGSTY #acotar fanfic #azriel fanfic #reader insert #rhysand acotar #pro rhysand #pro feyre #pro nesta #feyre acotar #nesta acotar #morrigan acotar #pro morrigan #i def procastinated writing this because I didn't think it would be good #I def misspelled procastinated #i hate spelling #acotar #i love azriel #i hate him a little rn #but i promise he will explain #he will be grovelling #angst

[simgerale]

OLEANDER CYRUS 🐉

@morrigan-sims's D&D CAS CHALLENGE

High elf | medium hair | sorcerer | pet/familiar (dragon) | body hair | glasses | chaotic evil

this was so much fun (^: he's EVIL Y'ALL!!!!! and of course he has a mutually beneficial relationship with a humongous dragon... do you see the crazy HORNS as his CHEEK BONES!!! anyways he wants to burn every village he sees and wreak havoc everywhere he goes

#ts4 #ts4 challenge #dnd cas challenge #morrigan-sims #i wanted to give him blonde hair since he's a sun elf #it says black is also good but blonde looked good on him #but he looked similar to ANOTHER angsty blonde i made....... COUGH kristopher #i just think it was my sim style that tricked me into thinking everyone had same face syndrome #but he kinda looks like luca in a way.........and i didn't make luca #ANYWHO bed time for me!!!! #we stayed up late creating our wedding invite so if the sample is good i'll share it with you guys cause i think it's cute #ye s i'm queuing this lol #he has poison speciality #so his name is a very poisonous plant #and his last name is #cyrus because it can mean sun! and he’s a sun elf as I said #just noticed that the blurry pic with the Dragon didn’t save correctlt because it doesn’t have the floating things #oh well

[nikethestatue]

Solstice Night (Secrets and Lies)

(Alternative Azriel’s POV of last Solstice)

(This is an alternative version of Azriel’s Bonus Chapter, and how it should’ve have been written to make sense. Thanks to @mrspettyferr for inspiring the idea!)

Azriel tucked in his wings and left without another word, stalking through the house and onto the front lawn to sit in the frigid starlight. To let the frost in his veins match the air around him.

Until he felt nothing. Was again nothing at all.

Then he flew to the House of Wind, knowing that if he slept in the Riverside manor, he’d do something he regretted. He’d been so vigilant about keeping away from Elain as much as possible, and had stayed up here to avoid her, and tonight...tonight had proved he’d been right to do so.

He aimed for the training pit, giving in to the need to work off the temptation, the rage and frustration and writhing need.

He found it already occupied. His shadows had not warned him.

It was too late to bank without appearing like he was running, Azriel landed in the ring a few feet from where Mor practised in the chill night, her sword glimmering like ice in the moonlight.

She lowered her sword upon seeing him, quickly taking notice of his tenseness, the sense of deep unhappiness that came off of him like a wave of darkness, the set jaw, the balled fists.

“You are up late,” he growled instead of greeting her. 

She shrugged and sheathed the sword in the scabbard, saying, “Seems like I am not the only one. I thought you’d be staying at the River Estate overnight?”

“I thought the same of you,” he threw back.

Azriel was usually polite, though he had a dirty mouth and cursed colourfully and frequently, but it wasn’t like him to be short with her. 

After half a millennia of knowing him, Mor had learned to navigate his moods quite well. All of their moods, to be exact, because hers was a moody family. Azriel was the hardest one to understand and his inscrutable visage wasn’t exactly easy to crack, but she had some tricks and tips up her sleeve to get him to relax, or, if he couldn’t relax, then at least confide in her in some manner. This male held too many secrets and all his emotions were wrapped up so tightly inside of him, he was virtually impenetrable. 

She chose to ignore the sniping comment and sighed, curling her arm over and around his elbow, her high ponytail bouncing behind her, as she tugged him gently along. 

“What?” he mumbled. “I am going to bed…”

“We both know you aren’t going to bed,” she waved him off. “So why don’t we have a drink together?”

He grunted something under his breath, and then agreed,

“We can have a drink, but,” he warned her sternly, “don’t pry!”

“Me?” she batted her lashes at him innocently, “when have I ever?!”

“Umm, always. Absolutely always,” he reminded her and she smiled at him, and then placed a loud kiss on his cheek.

He elbowed her lightly and scowled, wiping his cheek on his shoulder, while she laughed softly. 

“Stop slobbering!” he ordered.

“I am not slobbering,” she corrected. “I am kissing. Also, you are awfully grumpy for a Solstice night…care to,”

He wrenched the door open for her, letting her inside, as he complained, “See, you are already prying,”

“I am worrying,”

“Same as prying.”

She chuckled and they descended the stairs, with Azriel walking behind her in sullen silence.

Once they were in the dimly lit hallway, Mor took a turn towards the kitchen, and he continued following her. 

There was a time when this turn of events would’ve been everything that he’d ever wanted. Dreamed of. Him and Morrigan. Together. Alone. Morrigan inviting him for a drink. The two of them, in this great big palatial house, enjoying the silence and the privacy. 

Privacy was always in short supply when their family was around–everyone picking and nagging and laughing and arguing and trying to prove something to one another. Cass trying to one up everyone. Mor drinking too much. Amren pondering and proposing ridiculous ideas, and Rhys getting entirely too excited about them. And that’s when he wasn’t actively trying to pull Feyre into his lap and have her sit just about on his dick in front of everyone. Nesta, if she was even ever present, would imbue the atmosphere with detachment and coldness and give off a generally uncomfortable vibe. And the only oasis of tranquillity and good will would be his girl. Not his. Never to be his either. 

Mor shuddered, as if from being cold, and Azriel told the House ‘more fire, please’. She cocked her brow at him, watching as the fire inside the fireplace came to life at his request and then said, as she began to unbutton her tight leather jacket,

“So it listens to you too? Not only Nesta?”

He rubbed his hands together, feeling the effects of the chill which now prickled his skin and opened his hands to the fire. He’d lied to Nesta earlier today–he didn’t give a shit about the fire, and didn’t fear it at all, and neither did his shadows. What he did suffer from was the reek of that weird Elucien bond–that’s how he began calling Lucien and Elain in his head. Elucien somehow made it easier to accept, or at least tolerate. When he dared to think of Elain and Lucien, of them being fucking mates of all things, that’s when he lost it. That’s when he needed to rush and take it to the sky and fly until exhaustion threatened to destroy him. It’s not like he lacked in muscle before, but these frequent spontaneous fly-outs caused him to bulk up even further. When before he relied on shadow-walking and winnowing, now he relied more on flying, and his whole body was covered in an armour-like layer of bulging sinew and muscles. Not that he cared. Not like his girl was ever going to admire his physique, or run her small, soft hands over his body, and not like her full lips would ever lay a kiss upon his skin, and neither would her tongue trace the lines of his tattoos or scars. All this musculature was good for one thing–wiping the floor with Cassian. The happily soon-to-be-mated Cassian (of that, Azriel had no doubt), who was going to become a husband to Nesta, a lord of a manor, and a father of many. As he deserved. As it should be.

“Yes, it listens to me,” he said at last, “if I am polite and ask nicely.”

She laughed softly, the sound of her voice light and sparkling. It used to be that he lived for the sound of that voice, the desire to solicit this type of reaction from her, a living, breathing need inside of him. Used to be that Mor’s attention, even the tiniest crumbs of it, was all that he wanted. 

Many centuries ago, when they were young and she first arrived at the camp, visiting Rhys and her aunt, it was as if Azriel was seeing life in colour for the first time in his life. Morrigan was painted in gold and light, her hair falling around her and wrapping her up in a shining mantle. He’d barely even seen women before that–for years he was locked in a cupboard like a wild animal, only seeing his mother for too brief periods here and there. When he was dropped off at Windhaven, the females that he found there were hardened by life and their lot. They toiled away, usually tucked somewhere in the barracks, and busy with hard, menial jobs, as they scrubbed clothes, weaved cloths, cooked, cleaned…Without Fae magic in their bodies, the females did everything by hand, similar to the human women out in the Human Lands, while also carrying the weight of their clipped wings around them. At least they usually didn’t breed as quickly as humans and didn’t look after a whole gaggle of younglings, though that just meant that they were forced to serve the males even more.

Princess Morrigan was not like that. She was delicate: her skin pale and rosy, her hands soft and beautiful, her nails lovely and manicured. She was tall and enticingly voluptuous, her breasts already full and temptingly soft, even though at seventeen, she was still just a girl. And he, at nineteen, was a boy. A youngling himself, who’d never even thought much about women, let alone been alone with them, or touched them. He was busy wrangling with emerging powers, the call of them overwhelming him–for not only was he a Shadowsinger, but he quickly learned that his powers far exceeded even those of the most powerful Illyrians. He matched Cassian’s immense strength, though he was more modest about the displays and therefore, was sometimes underestimated, even by his brothers. However, he was just as strong, more agile, quicker, and perhaps, more brutal too. He could fight with relentless savagery, feeling like he had nothing to lose. He was colder and more calculating too, without Cassian’s bravado, but with the desire to win and bring others to heel. He already had three siphons by then–unheard of for someone his age. Unheard of for someone with his background. Unheard of, in general. Battle scarred warriors were lucky to have had three siphons. His were there just to manage his power–he didn’t even use them when he trained, or sparred. He was capable enough to overpower any opponent, including Rhysand, simply by using his strength and ability.

Princess Morrigan was powerful too. Her beauty was a concealment which hid the vast deposits of her great powers and back in the day, Azriel only dreamed of brushing against the reservoirs of that shimmering light, thinking himself unworthy of being in the company of something so pure and magnificent. But perhaps, that was always the problem–Morrigan was too much. Too beautiful. Too powerful. Too attractive. Too funny. Too seductive. And he wasn’t like her. He wasn’t good for her. 

“What are you drinking?” Mor asked, as she began rummaging through bottles at the marble-clad bar. “Shit…” she cried out, “these are either empty or it’s…juice?!”

Azriel sat heavily on the stool by the counter and rubbed the back of his neck. He was tired. Fuck. Was he tired…

“Oh yeah…” he remembered, “no booze here. Because Nesta can’t drink. I forgot. Water. Tea. Or juice. These are your choices.”

Mor pouted, “well, that fucking sucks.”

He wanted to tell her that she was drinking too much and that Dry Winter wouldn’t be a terrible idea for her to entertain, but he held his tongue. Mor knew that she was drinking much too much. In fact, she was a grumbling functioning alcoholic under the cheery, lovely façade and it made Azriel feel sad for her. Mor drank because she was unhappy and lonely, and carried a secret that she did not share with anyone. Much like him. Who would’ve thought that five hundred years later, they would be in the same boat. He certainly had assumed that by now, Mor would’ve been happily wedded and bedded, living side by side with someone she loved, perhaps a mother, formidable in her power and influence. Not Rhys’s Third, with a dubious honour of serving as his emissary and Hewn City’s pseudo queen. 

Azriel chuckled mirthlessly and she filled the kettle and put it on the fire. He could've asked the House to make them tea, but he didn’t mind Mor taking care of him for this one instance. Gods only knew how many times he’d taken care of her and watched over her, even when she had no idea that he was near. 

“Same as usual?” she queried, as she set out two mugs for them. He nodded.

Six sugars for him, the tea extra strong. Lemon and sugar for her. 

“Are there biscuits?”

“Nesta likes the buttery ones,” he nodded toward a cupboard. “Cass pretends not to like the lemon and anise ones, but fails miserably every time.”

Mor snorted a laugh under her breath.

After the party, she’d changed into plain knit trousers, boots, a grey jumper and tied her long golden hair into a ponytail. It wasn’t often that he saw her out of her usual finery, but this was the Mor that only a few knew–not the girl in daring dresses, who favoured red, but a simpler version of her, someone who suffered from self-esteem issues, and who preferred to spar alone, so that no one could observe her. 

Once the water boiled, she brewed them both tea and then brought it to the counter and set it before Azriel, before returning with an array of biscuits on a plate. 

“You know, we just had a huge dinner,” he noted with a chuckle, but that didn’t stop him from picking up a few of the biscuits and sipping on his tea.

“What’s some tea with a good friend?” she shrugged, eyeing him over the rim of her cup.

“You look tired, Az.”

“I am tired,” he said simply.

“Why?”

“There is just a lot going on,” he said vaguely, but the look that she gave him told him that he wasn’t going to weasel out of the conversation, so he squared his shoulders and explained,

“Rhys kind of…threw a lot of my plate. I have to run my network as usual, I have to increase my presence in the Human Lands because of everything that’s happening with Koschei. I have to meet with Lucien and his little gang of misfits on the regular. I have to train the priestesses. I have to deal with Eris,”

Mor’s nose wrinkled at the mention of the male’s name.

“There is research that I’ve been doing regarding Feyre’s condition–without any success,” he sighed deeply and shook his head. “I don’t even know what we will be doing about all of that, and Rhys…”

“What?”

“He refuses…refuses…to make any contingency plans.” 

Azriel sighed again, grasping the hot mug between his hands and seemingly not noticing the burn. 

“Has he said anything to you?” 

Mor bit her lip and shook her head no. He grunted his exasperation and muttered,

“That’s not how you run a Court. I know, I am his brother, and I serve him, but I am worried. I am worried that something awful will happen and we’ll be left holding our dicks in the wind,”

At that, Morrigan barked a loud laugh. Leave it to Azriel to use colourful language when talking about serious issues. 

“He is desperately worried,” she reminded him, her voice soft and laced with concern. “I think he understands the gravity of the situation,”

“He is putting his personal life ahead of his Court,” Azriel said, his tone bitter. She glanced at him in surprise. It wasn’t like him to lose his temper, or to speak so openly about his concerns with Rhys. It wasn’t a secret that the two males often butted heads, and Rhys was not above using his High Lord Coercion to bring Azriel to heel. The inherent dominance of his persona was often the only thing that kept Azriel in check. And if she was being honest, Mor often agreed with Az, as opposed to her cousin. But Rhys was madly in love with Feyre, and on some level, Mor understood that his judgement was utterly clouded by his adoration of his mate and his worry for the future. 

“Apparently, he is exempt from acting like a High Lord right now, and thinking from a political standpoint about the future, or his Court,” Azriel concluded dryly, and Mor sensed that there was more that he wasn’t saying.

“She is his mate,” she reminded him gently. “And she might be dying,”

He snapped, 

“I know all about mates, Mor. And yet, here we are.”

She threw a sharp look at him and demanded,

“So you think I should’ve married Eris? Like a good little mate? For the sake of the Courts and politics?”

He offered her a cold, measured assessment, and then took a long sip of his tea. She glared angrily at him, her temper rising, even more so, because he was ignoring it and absolutely giving no shits.

At last, he said,

“Not for me to judge or decide. I just dealt with the aftermath of it all…”

She crossed her arms on her chest and demanded,

“What did you expect me to do?”

He scrubbed his hand over his face and his wings relaxed behind his back, like he didn’t care about the conversation and was making himself comfortable.

“Listen,” he said roughly, his mood clearly influenced by the sea of anger and resentment that was churning inside of him. “Eris might be a son of a bitch and a cold bastard, but the male has lived with an unresolved bond for 500 years.”

Mor choked on her drink, her brown eyes flaring with alarm, which turned into something very similar to fear.

“What?” she breathed.

Well, if he was going to lay all the cards out on the table, then he was going to commit.

They were due for the conversation anyway. Long overdue, actually. About five-hundred-twenty-years overdue.

So, he conjured a bottle of whiskey, because all that unusual power that he possessed did come in handy once in a while. Mor watched him with wide eyes, perhaps forgetting that he was capable of doing things like these with his magic–because his magic was on par with that of Rhys, a High Lord. But no one was ready to talk about that just yet.

With a snap of his fingers, he brought two shot glasses to the table as well, and then opened the bottle and wordlessly poured both of them a measure. 

“How…” she gasped, long fingers twisting nervously in front of her, “how…no one knows,”

“I know,” he cut her off. 

“How long? How did you,”

“I am a fucking spymaster, Morrigan,” he reminded her coldly and tipped the drink back down his throat. It burned him well, and he smacked his lips, refilling his glass immediately.

“How long?” she demanded.

“Always, I suppose,” he rubbed his temples and said, “Eris isn’t the kind of male to be kind or accommodating to strangers. He is cold, calculating, and wouldn’t be taking too kindly to be made a laughing stock of, not by a seventeen year old girl, who smeared his face in the mud by losing her precious virginity, which was promised to him, to an Illyrian bastard,”

Mor flushed, her cheeks colouring deeply and her eyes dropped to her hands, the shot glass still untouched next to her. 

Azriel drummed his fingers absently on the table, and continued, 

“You see…one starts to wonder what would compel a male like Eris–proud and haughty and cruel–to free this girl, the girl who humiliated him and made him look like a fool, from the binds of a marriage contract,”

“I wasn’t a virgin,”

“Oh yes. That was a good and believable excuse–of course Eris, the heir apparent to the Autumn Court, wouldn’t want to sully himself with a woman who went against him and her family, against her honour, and fucked a boisterous Illyrian bastard, who didn’t have a coin to his name, and just a promise of greatness,”

“Which he fulfilled,”

“Certainly,” Azriel agreed. “But it’s not about your decision to sleep with my brother, while knowing that I had feelings for you,” he threw out coldly, his gaze dark, though he didn’t sound accusatory, but rather…tired. 

To her credit, Morrigan remained in her seat, though he could see that she was itching to jump out of it and run away from the conversation. But he wasn't going to let her. 

“There is a twist to the story, you see,” he bit on a biscuit, thinking that he went from a filling holiday dinner, to tea, to biscuits, to whiskey, to more biscuits, all the while almost kissing his girl, then breaking his girl’s heart, fighting with his High Lord, threatening a Blood Duel, and now dropping some very uncomfortable truths on a woman he used to love. He was really on a roll today.

“Which is?” she wondered, watching him closely, but with a certain level of detachment, almost mesmerised by his storytelling, as if it wasn’t about her.

“Eris wouldn’t have been kind, you see. If he didn’t care, he would’ve taken you on and punished you. Much like Beron did with his wife. You see, I think that the Lady of Autumn had been unfaithful to her High Lord in her youth, or maybe even later in life, and he’d been taking revenge on her for centuries. He beats her, humiliates her, isolates her, he berates her verbally and punishes her physically, all the while using her for power–she is powerful, the Lady of Autumn–and Beron harnesses that power for his own gain,”

Mor gasped softly, whispering, “how do you know all this?”

“I am the Spymaster of the Night Court,” he said firmly, even proudly. “And Eris could’ve followed in his father’s footsteps. He could’ve taken you as his bride, and made you miserable and devastated you in every way possible for all the years of your life,”

She swallowed audibly, paling at his words, at the life she, thankfully, never lived.

“What I think happened,” he rolled his shoulders, and then threaded his fingers through his thick hair, “was that when you were betrothed and met for the first time, the bond snapped for Eris. He was taken with you immediately–still is–because he asks after you to this day, worries about you, insults you, so you’d pay attention to him, and resents you for ignoring him. But the bond did not snap for you…Couldn’t.”

She jumped out of her seat and wrapped her arms around her body, beginning to pace nervously the length of the kitchen. Azriel fell silent, watching her. He could almost see the beating of her heart through the thin material of her jumper, the fluttering of her pulse. She was rattled. Riled up. 

“Azriel,” she turned to him at last, her voice pleading and quiet.

He poured himself another drink, but didn’t actually drink it. His finger circled the rim of the glass and he waited for her to say something. 

“I didn’t know, Morrigan,” he confessed, his voice losing its metallic edge. “I didn’t. For a long time.”

“Know what?” her years brimmed with tears, which she blinked back, refusing to allow them to fall. 

“Come here,” he told her.

She cupped her hand over her mouth, shaking her head, refusing to move.

He watched her crumble, and there was a piece of him that enjoyed her disintegration. Did that make him cruel? He wasn’t sure. She’d hurt him though. Broke his heart. Made him hate himself. Made him doubt his worth–something that never really changed up until this day. She could’ve just told him and he would’ve accepted it. But she didn’t. And he was forced to piece half-truths, lies, conjuncture, half-lies and assumptions together for years. 

“Come here,” he repeated and extended his hand to her. 

“You’ll hate me,” she whispered.

“No,” he flexed his finger, waiting for her, for her hand. “I don’t hate you,”

“Why?”

“You probably hurt Eris more than you hurt me. And I got to live my life side by side with you, and to have you as a friend matters more to me than having some dalliance with you.”

She returned to her seat and placed her hand in his, his long thick scarred fingers closing over her own.

“Eris couldn’t hurt you,” Azriel said calmly, watching her and her tears, which dropped down her cheeks. “He couldn’t hurt his mate. He might have been angry, or embarrassed, but he couldn’t inflict pain on his mate. But you couldn’t accept the mate bond, because,”

“It wasn’t there,” she sobbed softly. “I didn’t feel anything. And he said that I only had to accept it, and then it would snap for me. But I couldn’t,” she wiped her tears with her hand. “I couldn’t…”

“I know,” he stroked her head. “I understand. You couldn’t accept it not because it was Eris, but because he was a male.”

She nodded, crying softly.

“And he did all he could do under the circumstances to protect you–it was brutal, but he had no choice. He left you there, in the forest, and did not touch you. If he did, he would’ve instantly claimed you as his, and for the Autumn Court. You would’ve become his bride, bound to him, regardless of your acceptance of the bond,”

She was nodding steadily. 

“And,” he added, telling her something he’d never told anyone else before, including Cassian, “he passed the coordinates of your whereabouts to Rhys. Rhys gave them to me. I rushed to grab you before any more damage was done to your body and before anyone else from Autumn could claim you…touch you. If you were still untouched, you were under the Night Court’s jurisdiction and time was of the essence.”

Her eyes flew wide open,

“Eris did that?”

Azriel nodded.

“He is still a piece of shit for not finding a way to help you somehow, but at least he did that.”

Her thumb brushed over his fingers and she wondered quietly,

“And you?”

He hummed and shrugged his shoulders.

“I wanted to tell you how I felt about you, which was probably a stupid idea. But I was rattled. Rattled by the idea of your ending up in Autumn. Rattled by the idea of you marrying Eris. Worried that I wouldn’t get the chance to tell you…I understood that every day is precious and we don’t know what could happen to all of us. And there were too many unspoken words as it is between all of us. So I wanted to tell you, but you walked away,”

She sucked in her breath, remembering that awful day, the decision that she had to make yet again, and turn away another male.

“I didn’t know,” he admitted. “I didn’t realise back then that you didn’t accept Eris or the bond not because it was Eris, but because,”

Mor exhaled and took the step that she always feared and refused to take. But Azriel already knew. So it was just a matter of putting it into words. Giving it life. 

“I prefer females.”

He nodded, a small smile dancing on his lips. He looked at her like he was happy for her. Proud maybe. She wasn’t sure, but he certainly didn't seem angry, or surprised.

“How long have you known?” she murmured.

“Ohhhh…for a long time,” he stretched his wings and his arms, his muscles bunching up under his tunic and she looked at him appreciatively. He really was a fine specimen. Like some ancient demigod who descended upon their land–winged and dark and usually swathed in shadows and beautiful beyond belief. He wasn’t like the rest of them and to this day, Mor wasn’t sure of what to make of him. 

“How did you find out?”

“Saw you,” he chuckled, “with that human Queen of centuries ago…I can’t recall her name, but,”

“Andromache,” Mor whispered. 

“You loved her then?” 

She nodded.

“I did. She was my first, and only, great love.”

“A human woman. A married one too. And a queen.”

She scowled and grunted, “I suppose I know how to pick them.”

“I was doing reconnaissance in the Human Lands, and Rhys ordered me to meet up with you and I figured that I’d just drop by, and you’d be happy to see me. Instead, I saw something else, which surprised me, but also, explained everything and at last, I gained clarity.”

“I am sorry,” she said again.

“You should’ve just told us–we would’ve kept it a secret, if you didn’t want your family to know,”

“I know. But at some point, I felt like it was too late. I’ve wasted so much time, and as the years went by, it seemed less and less possible. I would’ve looked absurd–so many lies and so much pretence.”

“We all look absurd at times. You think I don’t look insane,” he snorted an unhappy laugh, “when Rhys still thinks that I am in love with you! In fact, he told Feyre the same thing! Now she also thinks that I am hopelessly enamoured with you, while Cassian doesn’t know what to think at all,”

Mor couldn’t help herself, and laughed a sombre, dry laugh and then lifted her shot glass to him and announced, “to telling lies and being absurd!”

She chugged the drink and he followed her, swallowing his own at once.

She slammed the glass down and then announced loudly,

“You are in love with Elain Archeron.”

Azriel gulped the remains of his whiskey and it burned his throat in an unpleasant way, as he struggled to stifle a cough, while Mor stared at him triumphantly.

“What the fuck, Mor?” he ground out at her.

“I am no Spymaster, but,” she flicked his forehead, “I also know some things.”

He rubbed his hand over his whole face and asked, “What do you know?”

“Just what I said–you are in love. With Elain. Been in love with her even before the War.”

“I am not in love with her,” he protested feebly.

“Liar.”

“She is mated to Lucien,”

“Like you give a fuck,” she huffed. “I am surprised you haven’t just murdered him and hid the body forever,”

“I am not going to murder him,” he grumbled.

“I know,” her tone softened and she stroked his hand. “I know. You won’t even if it torments you, because you love her. And you know how painful it would be for her if he died. She’d lose her mate, and even if she doesn’t care about him and hasn’t accepted the bond, the attachment is still there,”

“That’s why you hate Eris, but care about his well-being,” he muttered.

She bit her lip and didn’t answer, but her silence was telling enough. 

She did hate Eris. Or rather, avoided him. Though she did not feel the bond, there was still a flutter of it in her subconscious. It made her worry about Eris. She hated that she worried about him, but during both Wars, she watched him on the battlefield and was terrified that he would be hurt, or worse, killed. The idea of him dead was unfathomable to her. The bond twisted everything, and all natural resentment that one would feel, turned into an inexplicable longing and pain. She’d always been empty, and unhappy, because there was a space inside of her which was never filled–a promise, unfulfilled forever. She learned to live with it, and she did not doubt her choice, and felt no regrets, but the hollowness remained, as did her concern for Eris. That’s why she could never call a Blood Duel against him, and neither could she challenge him, or conspire against him. That’s why when Azriel attacked him during the High Lords’ meeting, she lost her mind with worry, her loyalties tested and pushed to the limit–her lifelong friend and brother or her unaccepted mate. And when Rhysand betrayed her trust, and went behind her back and chose to ally with Eris, she ultimately forgave her cousin–because Eris did everything to avoid hurting her. Whatever agreement and promises he made to her father, they were powerful enough to convince Keir to remain in Hewn City and not visit Velaris. And she knew that Eris did that for her. 

“Yeah,” she nodded sadly.

“So that means I can’t fuck him up and end him?” he teased darkly.

“Shut up.”

She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair, sighing deeply. It seemed to him that a heavy weight was finally lifted off her shoulders. The burden that she’s been carrying for so long, the weight of secrets and lies, finally dissolving and lightening her emotional load.

“Elain is your mate…” she stated simply, but unequivocally.

“What?” his head whipped to her, and then he grabbed her glass and moved it away from her demonstratively, murmuring, “alrighty then, I think no more drinking for you today…”

She laughed and smacked his hand.

“I am not drunk,” she assured him, and then opened her eyes and looked directly at him. “And neither am I lying to you. Listen,” she propped herself on her elbows on the table and said, her expression tense and serious, “the lines are all crossed…and I can’t make sense of them,”

“What lines?” 

“I see…” she scratched her nose, before continuing, trying to put things together for him, “lines…Truths. About people. That’s the power that I have–one of them, anyway–to see truths that no one else sees. And I know how things are connected, how people are intertwined–I saw it with Nesta and Cass, and I knew that they were going to be mates, but she’d fight it and he’d have to fight for her. And I saw the connection between Feyre and Rhys, even though he told me that she was his mate–I knew she’d accept him. Yet, the clearest connection that I saw recently has been between you and Elain. And,”

“And?”

“Someone you might not expect,”

“Who?”

“Vassa and another male,” she stated, and Azriel glanced at her hopefully. 

“Jurian? Or…?”

“I cannot say,” she stopped him. “I can’t say, just in case it would affect that connection,”

“Yet you are telling me about Elain and myself?”

“The connection is already there, and you know it and just about admitted to it.”

“I didn’t admit to anything,�� he argued roughly. “It’s friendship. Like it is with you.”

The corner of Mor’s mouth rose in a smirk.

“It’s almost like you enjoy going after unavailable women…”

“Morrigan,”

“Sorry! Sorry,” she waved him off. “But we both know that it’s much more than ‘friendship’. You cried for her, when she was thrown into the Cauldron. You were almost dead, but you cried for her.”

“We've failed them. Me and Cass. We promised to shield and protect them, but we failed them,”

“Yes,” she agreed. “We all did. But that doesn’t explain you heading into the heart of the Hybern camp to save her. Or you arming her with your dagger, which she was able to handle, and rather successfully too,”

Colour bloomed on Azriel’s cheeks as he recalled everything that had passed between him and his girl.

“You hand her a dagger and she kills the King?” she raised a brow at him. 

He cleared his throat and said, somewhat reluctantly,

“We…share power. My shadows react to her, and want to protect her…they care about her, like they care for no one else. And it’s like–I can’t explain it, Mor–but her power, whatever it is, rises up to meet mine, and it’s just so complimentary.”

“So, perhaps you are power mates?” she proposed, her brow creasing with some thought. “It is interesting…”

“What is?”

“She was Made. Her power is wholly Cauldron-based. Gifted to her. But if she matches it with yours, and your power also answers hers, then,”

She paused.

“What?” he laughed. “I am Made too?”

“I don’t know,”

“Well, definitely not in the Cauldron. Probably in the depths of Hel, more like it.”

“More like it.”

He sighed and rose to his feet.

“I better go and catch some sleep. I have a snowball fight to lose in the morning.”

“So defeatist?” she teased him.

“Well, I suppose that’s my truth for tonight…that’s the connection that I see–me, snowballs and losing.”

“Happy losing then.”

She got up and then came over to him and threw her arms around his huge body.

“I am sorry, Az. For everything.”

“I am sorry, too, Mor,” he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “But I am glad that we were able to talk and get it all out in the open.”

“Me too. I wish we weren’t so stubborn and spoke to each other a lot sooner.”

“Better late than never?” 

He flicked his fingers and the bottle of whiskey disappeared.

“Happy Solstice,” she said and then gently kissed his mouth, stroking his head.

He tensed, but then forced himself to respond and said, 

“Happy Solstice, Mor. Thanks for being a good friend.”

She watched him go, and then called out just before he disappeared in the hallway,

“Keep the necklace.”

“What?” he asked in confusion.

“Keep the necklace,” she repeated, and then winnowed somewhere just like that. 

He slept as well as could be expected, but when Azriel returned to the River house to gather his presents before dawn, he found Elain’s necklace amid the pile. He pocketed it.

Spent the rest of his day, even the blasted snowball fight, with every intention of returning it to the shop in the Palace of Thread and Jewels.

But when he returned from the cabin in the mountains, he didn’t go to the market square.

Instead, he found himself following Morrigan’s advice and wrapped the necklace around his wrist, like a bracelet, before he hid it under his leather Siphon band. 

He drank the sense of power that emanated from the necklace, before pushing it down deep, where it glowed quietly.

A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

#Azriel #Morrigan #Azriel and Mor #Moriel #Azriel and Morrigan #my fanfiction #my writing #Solstice Night #secrets and lies #eris #elain archeron #elriel #pro elriel #SJM rewrite #acosf azriel pov #angsty #Moriel finally talking

[maintitle]

Today I woke up and saw one second of discourse on Ao3's lack of wlw content and have decided to entirely take it onto myself to write all day and make it your problem.

#Gonna work on at least the second chapter of the Red Dead fic #Then I may do some Morrigan/Leliana stuff #Maybe some Merrill/Isabela #Maybe some Shepard/Liara stuff but I think that's a bit too non-angsty for what I want today

[xwhatxisxrightx]

@xfoodxobsessedx​ asked: ❛  i’m planning to turn you into a dripping mess.  ❜ (From Mona)

Heavy pants and lidded eyes, chest heaving, Fischl’s leg hooked itself around Mona’s knee out of sheer NECESSITY at her words, neck exposed, teeth biting lips. “Oh, yes~... The Prinzessin doth beseech thou LOWLY VASSAL to ruin me, to shred thy clothes and despoil thy dignity and transmogulate one from a prideful Prinzessin to a, ahem, DRIPPING WET MESS of a lowly commoner~...” Too far? Probably but Fischl never did anything in halves. And she wouldn’t be the Prinzessin without a FALSE sense of autonomy amidst this messy heat. Still, as she spoke, her lingerie leotard had been drenched through, her arousal dripping down to stain her garter and leggings, too, all the while she pressed her SLICK CUNT up against Mona’s thigh. She was ALREADY dripping in--

“Now, now, Meg, is that ANY WAY to speak to another woman? And there I was thinking I’d taught you better than that. Where. Are. Your. Manners?” Morrigan clacked a heel against the floor with a full knowing smirk painted across her lips, eyes promising mischeif and chaos. “And to think, isn’t this one SUPPOSEDLY a princess? Sorry. Prinzessin. Prinzessin. I mean no offense. I’m merely here to point out that a lowborn motherless child like Mona would be EXECUTED on the spot had she spoken in such uncouth terms to any other member of any other royal family.” Another pause, Morrigan’s feet crossing ankle over heel as she braced herself against the wall, checking her nails twice over. “Say, Meg, AMY, how would the Kaiser and Kaiserin react if they knew my protege here planned to turn their daughter into a, quote-unquote, ‘DRIPPING MESS’? Hmm?”

Fischl had frozen up completely around Mona at the sound of Morrigan’s voice, each word from the older woman TEARING OPEN wounds and distresses that Fischl had not yet grown numb, too, no mattter how many times said wounds had SCARRED BACK OVER. “I-I-I-...” She tried to find her voice, wanting, knowing exactly, what Fischl would say. She’d turn around and PROUDLY announce that Mona’s name was not “Meg” but “The Great Astrologist Lady Megistus”. And she’d reneg every point Morrigan had tried to make about kings, princesses, kaisers, kaiserins and queens and parade her own position as MEIN FRAULEIN before her, dictating that the Prinzessin’s rule is above all, and that anyone seeking shelter from the fated day of THUNDERING RETRIBUTION would naturally come to accept Fischl’s choices in love and life in the waning transience of this universal twilight. “H-Her name’s not Meg...” But that had been EXACTLY why Morrigan had called her AMY now, hadn’t it? “I...” GULP.

#FSFDDFNNKLDFNF NWEPL #HERE #WE #GO AHAHAHALKN DFSLKFDNDF LFDNLKDFSNFNLSDFSD #IM ACTAULLY #INCAPABLE #OF WRITING SMUT THAT ISNT ANGSTY HAHAHAHAHHAHHA #THAT'S GOT ME A SIGN OF SOME UNRESOLVE MENTAL ISSUES RIGHT? XD #MORRIGAN |+|+|+| SOON OUR BONES WILL BE DUST ON THE EARTH // WILL YOUR LEGACY STILL STAND? // AT LEAST WE CAN SAY WE TRIED... |+|+|+| #FISCHL VON LUFTSCHLOSS NARFIDORT |+|+|+| T'IS I THROUGH THIS AUGE DER VERURTEILUNG THAT SEES THE VERY THREADS OF YOUR FATE |+|+|+| #MONA X FISCHL |+|+|+| ASTRAL EMISSARY YOU HAVE PERFORMED ADMIRABLY AS A MEMBER OF MY RETINUE. |+|+|+| #MONA X MORRIGAN |+|+|+| LIKE MOTHER LIKE DAUGHTER SO THEY SAY. I FOR ONE HOPE YOU TURN OUT NOTHING LIKE ME. |+|+|+| #MONA MEGISTUS |+|+|+| BE IT THE TRUTH OF THE WORLD // OR THE LIES IN THE SKY // I WILL SEE THIS THROUGH |+|+|+| #XFOODXOBSESSEDX

[memento-morri-writes]

for kris: 💥, 🙈, 🎤, ☁️, and ☄️ from this oc (x) ask game, pls? - 🔮⛈

Hello again!! Ah, I'm so excited that you asked about my dearest child. <3

💥 - what emotions do they have trouble dealing with?

Anger. No question about it. Kris has always had a short temper, and constantly being the butt of others' jokes hasn't helped. While he can bite his tongue if he really tries, he had no issues lashing out verbally (or in some cases physically) in response. However, Kris is also not good at processing any kind of emotion that might make him vulnerable. He pretends not to be hurt by what people say, or if he does he responds in anger. But spending years being told that he's worthless or a fool have made him believe that he's exactly that. He's used to it, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. He puts up a front of arrogance and/or indifference when pushed, because he knows that any kind of emotional "weakness" will be at best ignored and at worst used as fuel for more mockery. :'(

🙈 - whats a side of your oc that they don't want to show other people?

So, I have two answers for this. Number one is more of what I said above. He doesn't want to show anyone how badly he's hurting, ever. He plays it off, acts the way everyone expects him too, but inside he's very much suffering the consequences of years of abuse. Number two is the fact is his soft heart. While there are very few people and things in his life that he cares about, he cares about them a lot, and he doesn't want people to see that and take advantage of it. So, while he does love his older sister, and Fallon, and his horse Phillip, to name a few, he would be hard-pressed to show it.

🎤 - are they good at singing?

He has a passable voice. It's not amazing, but it's not bad by any means. He would never, ever sing in front of anyone though. Never in a million years. He doesn't really like doing it, so why would he?

☁️ - a soft headcanon.

He loves his horse, Phillip, a lot. He absolutely will have conversations with him in a one-sided way, and also spoils him, a lot. (like "I know, but you can't have the apple yet. Not until you let me pick your hooves." that kind of thing.) He would be embarrassed if someone saw him, though.

☄️ - what do people assume about them? are they right?

People assume that he's exactly what the gossip says he is: an arrogant drunk who's an embarrassment to his family and spends too many nights not at home. At least, that's what everyone in Oryn assumes. And they are dead fucking wrong. If someone had no idea about any of that though, they would probably assume that he's kind of aloof, since he mostly keeps to himself unless either he's looking for company or someone draws him into the conversation. It's kind of habit by this point, so the assumption isn't totally wrong. He also has a tendency to look like he's sulking, and has a little bit of a resting bitch face, so people might assume he's angry about something. They might not be wrong about that.

#morrigan replies #atqh: Kris #sorry that most of these are sad #but you did go for the angsty questions! #Kristopher's relationship with Phillip is 100% inspired by my dad's relationship with our cats. He adores them and it's adorable.

[viiisenyas]

Arthur and Val meet Morrigan

#An AU to distract me from my angsty longfic #my dumb shit #arthur amell #valeriana tidarion #morrigan #she'd get on so well with morrigan tbh #she'd be willing to learn everything about old magic

[drenchedfireworks]

Said it before, saying it again.

Azriel was not mated with the third Archeron sister, not because he didn't deserve a mate like his brothers did. Like he assumed it was meant to be. Three brothers, three sisters.

He wasn't given an Archeron sister for a mate because he's looking at the wrong trio. It's not about Rhysand-Cassian-Azriel ending up with the Archeron sisters. It's about Cassian-Azriel-Morrigan ending up with the Valkyries while Elucien serves the most angsty pining known to mankind.

#a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #amrenofvelaris #cassian #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #rhysand #azriel shadowsinger #gwyneth berdara #nessian #the morrigan #emerie #gwynriel #elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elain x lucien #azriel x gwyn

[shadowdaddies]

Always Yours

Azriel x Reader angst to fluff

A/N: okay this is the alternate end to Never Yours, based on this request where reader and Az have a happy ending. The story is the same up until the cut, and that's where it changes. This is still quite angsty so please read the warnings.💜

Warnings: drinking, drugging/vomitting as a result, attempted SA

Azriel had been gone on mission for weeks, leaving your heart aching, empty and alone. You tried to be understanding of his role as spymaster, supporting and encouraging him when he would leave you in Velaris. Over the past year with tensions growing between courts, you and Azriel had spent more time apart than together. A dichotomy of emotions was consuming you, the loathing you felt towards him for abandoning you so often battling how deeply you missed him. 

It was another lonely day in your home, holding back tears while you cleaned the house as a pathetic attempt at distracting yourself. A knock on the door stirred you from your eddying thoughts, and you set down the cleaning supplies, wiping your tears as you looked through the peephole. A head of long blonde hair appeared through the lens, and you sighed, unlocking the door as it opened to reveal Morrigan on the other side. 

Forcing yourself to reciprocate her cheery smile, you held the door wider as the perky female bounded into the room, curls bouncing behind her. “Get dressed. We’re going out to Rita’s tonight,” she announced as she waltzed past you towards your bedroom.

Opening up the armoire, Mor pulled out a low-cut sleeveless black dress, tossing it onto the bed before moving towards the jewelry box on your dresser. Sighing, you sat down on the bed, playing with the silky fabric of the garment. It felt wrong, going to Rita’s without Azriel. It felt wrong letting yourself have any fun while he was risking his life to keep your court safe.

“I don’t know, Mor. I would just rather stay in tonight,” you uttered in a defeated voice, dropping the dress skirt back onto the bed. 

Oblivious to your misery, Mor whipped around, a beautiful necklace and matching earring in her hands as she approached you. “None of that. You and I are going out for a girls’ night, and we’re going to have fun. You do remember what that word means, don’t you?” she teased, her hair tickling your neck as she reached around to clasp the necklace on you. 

You chewed your lip, staring at the dress as you deliberated your options. “Just one drink,” Mor spoke, softer this time, eyes wide with sincerity. 

A small yet genuine smile made its way to your lips at that. “Just one drink,” you agreed, stripping your shirt as you changed into the outfit she’d laid out. 

Mor squealed with excitement, helping you get ready before you left for the bar. It was a crowded night, a sea of new faces in the crowd that you observed from where you stood at the bar. It had been so long since you’d been around this many people - the lights, the music, the crowd - and you were suddenly overcome with nerves. 

Knocking back the drink that Mor had ordered for you, you flagged down the bartender for another, finishing that one quickly as well. You were feeling the effects of the drink by the time you dragged Mor to the dance floor, feeling giggly and light for the first time in ages. 

A striking female caught Mor’s eye, and you laughed as you nudged your friend towards the part of the floor where the other female stood. “Go talk to her, I’m going to grab some water,” you whisper-shouted into her ear over the music. Mor nodded, the two of you parting ways as you escaped the sweaty, writhing bodies on the dance floor in search of the bar.

The place was even more crowded than before, the bartender now slammed with drink orders as you failed to flag him down for a water. Feeling a warm presence at your back, you turned to see a tall male, dark curls falling in his brown eyes as he smiled down at you. Only after blinking several times did you confirm that this was not Azriel, but a handsome stranger whose hand now rested on the small of your back.

It had been so long since anyone had touched you like this, and you found yourself leaning into his warmth, a smile gracing your lips when he leaned down, whispering into your ear. “Can I get you something to drink?” he spoke in a husky voice, thick with desire that had heat pooling between your legs. Feeling tipsy and eager for something to quench your thirst from dancing, you simply nodded, thanking the male as the bartender brought over a drink for you that was definitely not water.

The room was spinning, and you clutched onto the male at your side, melting into his warmth as broad arms wrapped around you. A soft laugh sounded at your ear, the words coming out distorted as someone whispered comforting words in your ear. 

The scent of pine filled your nose, Azriel smelling slightly different than usual as you burrowed into his chest. A hand found your chin, tilting you up to see a blurred face. You were focusing hard, vision coming to just enough to realize that this was not Azriel. You pushed the male away, your arms weak, movements sluggish.

A shout sounded from your side, blonde hair in a whirl as the man fell to ground, blood pouring from his nose. You stumbled forward, Mor’s embrace catching you before leaning you back against the counter. 

“What were you thinking?” She yelled, holding your face in her hands, a rage unlike which you’d seen from her before in her eyes. Your vision turned spotty, breathing becoming difficult before your stomach lurched, everything in your stomach emptying onto Mor and the ground. 

The scent was strong, Mor’s eyes flaring as she recognized the wrongness of the drink. Your head lolled back against the bar as Mor flagged down Rita, telling her everything. City sentries detained the male, the last thing you saw before your vision faded completely.

You awoke the next morning, your head pounding as you squinted against the light pouring through the window. You heard the rustling of clothing from the other side of the bed, panicking at who the intruder might be. But when you turned over, your heart nearly burst with joy at the sight of Azriel, changing out of his leathers and into sleeping clothes.

Hazel eyes flashed to yours, deep with sorrow and red from tears. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispered, voice shaking as he stood there, frozen.

“I’m glad that you did,” you spoke, a cough erupting in your throat at the dryness there. Azriel rushed to your bedside table, grabbing a glass of water as he guided it to your lips. 

“I rushed home as soon as I received word from Rhys. Mor told me what happened at Rita’s last night. I am so, so sorry that I wasn’t there for you,” he whispered, forehead resting against yours as salty tears dripped onto the bedsheets.

“It’s okay, Azriel. I am okay.” You sniffled, heart twisting with the words you wanted to say instead. Pulling back, you looked into his eyes - beautiful, hazel eyes - as you brushed a black curl from his face. “That’s not true. I’m not okay, Azriel. I need you here. I’ve tried to be strong, but I am not whole without you. And I know that that’s selfish but-“

Azriel cut you off with a soft kiss to your lips, a smile breaking out across his perfect face. “My love, I am not going anywhere. Now, or ever. We had Madja look you over last night after the incident.” He paused, reaching down for your hands as he pressed kisses all along the backs of them. “We’re having a baby.”

Your world stopped turning in that moment, pure awe written across your features as you dared to smile up at Azriel. “What do you mean? How?”

Azriel smiled. “Well, I think you know how that happens, but I’m happy to show you if you need a reminder.”

With a giggle, you pushed him playfully. Hope filled your veins, giving you new life that you hadn’t felt in too long. “A baby?”

Azriel pulled you close, the scent of chilled mist and cedar giving you comfort as you leaned into his touch, savoring the feel of his lips brushing your forehead. “I’ve talked to Rhys. We’ll be re-delegating roles in the Court so that I can be here, where I am needed. With my family.”

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel fluff #azriel angst #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfic #acotar imagine #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster #acotar azriel #azriel acotar x reader #azriel x reader angst #azriel x y/n #azriel x reader fluff #acotar azriel x reader #acotar fic #morrigan acotar #azriel shadowsinger #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine

[thisblogisaboutabook]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

Azriel x Reader - Fluff - One Shot

While getting over a breakup, a performer in a Velaris tavern catches the attention of a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Alcohol, Implied hook-up

The notes flowed effortlessly through my fingers onto the ivory keys of the tavern’s antique piano. I’d played the song more times than I cared to admit over the past several months yet the angst of it had yet to be lost on me.

Tonight was particularly lively as the High Lord and Lady’s inner circle made their way into the tavern. One of the nicer pleasure halls in Velaris yet not as alluring as Rita’s, which was closed this week as they install an updated dance floor and modernize the bar’s serving area.

Once word spread of the prestigious guests, a plethora of onlookers flowed in the front doors. It had been a while since the bouncer actually had a line to attend to.

Attendees made requests, many tunes of a more risqué variety in hopes of a sultry dance against THE Morrigan. Who could blame them? She was lovely. Not in a soft and gentle way - but in a powerful, warm, seductive sort of way. Those that didn’t want to be with her, wanted to be her. Males and females alike tried and failed to get close enough for a dance but she stayed close to the remainder of the inner circle on the dance floor, so lost in the music that she hadn’t even noticed the desire flowing around her.

The Shadowsinger had also come out tonight. Though he evaded the dance floor, guarding their corner table diligently. An emotionless, bordering cold stare plastered on his face as he monitored the place. Ever the watchful friend, ensuring nobody stepped out of line. Many patrons gazed from afar, whispering words of encouragement as to who could work up the nerve to approach. The more brazen guests going as far as to take a few steps closer before being put off by his intimidating presence without him even making eye contact with them.

After a recent break up - recent putting it lightly - it had been months but who was counting? I’d taken to spending my weekends in this tavern. One evening, after far too many shots of liquid courage, I began playing on the piano while singing raunchy limericks and catchy tunes I’d picked up over the years during my travels through Prythian. Despite his odious reputation, some of my favorite limericks came from the High Lord of the Spring Court whom I’d never met personally. The poems coming in slurs from drunken participants of the Great Rite many years ago, the Calanmai where I met my former lover.

We’d connected instantly - literally and figuratively - and spent several wonderful years together. Until, damn the cauldron, he found his mate earlier this year. What are years together in the face of fate? Fate having a wicked sense of humor. How lucky for me that his mate dwelled in the city that I had introduced him to, MY city. They’d come into this very tavern shortly after the breakup, kindly leaving just as abruptly they came in. A futile effort of sparing me the heartache. Truthfully, he wasn’t a cruel male. He didn’t know I played here - and I didn’t hate him. But I resented it. All of it.

Which lead me to the song I was currently belting out at this piano. The song I’d written immediately after arriving back to my apartment that night, whiskey in one hand, fountain pen in the other.

“…And you're sitting in front of me at the restaurant, when I was still the one you want

Cross-legged in the dim light, everything was just right.

I, I could feel the mascara run. You told me that you met someone, glass shattered on the white cloth

Everybody moved on

Help, I'm still at the restaurant, still sitting in a corner I haunt, cross-legged in the dim light

They say, What a sad sight"

Despite the angsty, brooding lyrics, the tone was catchy and very easy to move along to. The more frequent patrons of the establishment had come to know this as a staple in my evening set, belting out the lyrics right along with me.

The song was my closing for the evening as I packed up, ready to head out. One of the attendees brought a glass of my favorite whiskey to me, nodding to the beautiful brooding male at the Inner Circle’s table.

Interesting.

I nodded a thank you with a brief raise of my glass to the Spymaster, as a little shadow swirled around my wrist with a gentle tug in his direction.

Who was I to turn him down? Aside from a steaming bath and smutty novel, I had nothing waiting for me to return home.

I casually strode to his table, giving a little smirk before sitting in front of him. Licking my lip before raising the glass to my mouth, lifting an eyebrow as I locked eyes with him.

“I didn’t realize Spymaster involved sussing out a lady’s drink of choice.”

A cool, bemused expression settled on his face as he took a sip from his own glass. “While my skill set is quite impressive, I asked the attendant for the bartender to send you a glass of your favorite.”

“I see. Well, thank you.” I replied, giving him time to continue the conversation or bid a farewell.

“You wrote that song.” He stated, not a question. Spymaster indeed.

For emphasis, I threw back a large swig of my liquor. “I did. Did you like it?”

He met my gaze with a contemplative glean in those hazel eyes, “Yes, no. Yes, the song was good. No, I did not like the truth behind the words. It felt too… relatable.”

I ran my fingers back through my hair letting it loosely fall back into place, and sighed. “Looks like we’ll both need another drink then.” Turning to the nearby attendee and signaling two fingers.

Two drinks turned to three, and four, by the end of the night we had laughed, one-upped eachother on who was unluckiest in love, and I was practically in his lap as we boisterously toasted a cheeky “Damn, the cauldron!” to which a nearby couple audibly gasped. We both muttered quick “apologies” turning away as we muffled our laughter into each others shoulders. He graciously sent the pair a shot with our next round of drinks.

The place started clearing out as the lights brightened and the keep yelled out a last call. Both of us hesitant to call it a night as we stepped into the brisk cold. “Walk me home, Shadowsinger?”

“Azriel. Call me Azriel.” He smiled. “I actually have something better in mind. Join me for a night cap?” He extended a hand.

Holding my hand out to squeeze his reassuringly, I replied, “Y/N. I’d be delighted.”

He eagerly swept me into his arms and darted into the sky, aiming for the House of Wind. The city lights quickly fading into twinkling stars.

Our pulses fluttered with anticipation as I nuzzled my head into the crook of his neck. When I pulled back to meet his eyes, he gave me a mischevious grin and briskly swooped down then back up. I flicked his nose to which he laughed, tilting his head downward to plant a kiss on my forehead.

I finally left the restaurant…

And my dress on his bedroom floor.

#azriel #fluff #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #x reader #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fluff #fanfic #one shot #sarah j maas #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #a court of silver flames #taylor swift

[milswrites]

How To Train Your Illyrian Prologue

Cassian X Morrigan'sSister!Reader

Series Masterlist

Summary: Growing up in Windhaven doesn’t give you the best table manners. Cassian was an Illyrian soldier and that meant that most of the time he acted like a barbarian. When he enters Rhysand’s court, it’s you who must show him the ropes of proper Night Court etiquette. But will you be able to train the untrainable?

Warnings: A lil angsty

Notes: Let me know if you want to be tagged (see the note at the end for an explanation)

Hewn City was not a place for those of weak heart and fragile mind. You don’t just live in the Court of Nightmares; you have to fight in order to survive it.

To live is to adapt, and to adapt to a life in this wretched city you have to learn that the only thing that matters here is power, and to the likes of Kier and his small legion of command, power was everything.

To them power wasn’t about wealth, status or ownership. Power was about control, about the complacency of their subjugates and their greed for power ran deeper than any ocean. Making them willing servants to their desire for authority.

It was the coronation of the new High Lord, which caused the stir of panic within Hewn, whispers of the young male's new regimes flooded the ebony halls. Opposed to any senseless changes which may soon be made, the Lords under the mountain tightened their grip on the strings of control they had held for many years prior to this new ascension.

Yet their claws didn't sink as deeply as they had once assumed. Free from their control the ever changing winds blew in a new direction, now carrying a different type of news. The hushed whispers of a promise, an oath that the Night Court will one day see better and brighter days ahead. A promise that Kier so longed to crush.

The first upset was the bastard Illyrian’s promotion to the General of the Night Court’s army. A valued role once reserved for those of pure blood and golden lineage, now tarnished by the brute's filthy ancestry.

The next slight came soon after the first in the form of an announcement, Rhysand had selected his second-in-command, giving the gravely important role to a woman. Yet this was a decision Kier was too afraid to contest, the otherworldly beast which lurked behind Amren's silver eyes dared the bitter Lord to protest her new position, a cruel smirk slicing across her face as she absorbed his quaking form.

It was Morrigan’s advancement into Rhysand’s court that was the biggest slap in the face for Kier. An unwelcome sign that the power he held over the Night Court was indeed slipping from his vice-like grip. The Lord of Nightmares was smart enough to see this act for what it was, a threat. A ceremonious performance by the young High Lord which veiled the true meaning of the young woman’s appointment into Rhysand’s court.

It was a contest of power, Rhysand’s subtle way of bearing his sharp teeth at Kier in warning. His way of establishing the dominance he had over the Night Court.

Kier didn't take this insult lightly, the spiteful male beginning to sew the poisonous seeds of his hatred throughout Hewn City in protest. Slowly turning the inhabitants loyalty from their new High Lord back to himself, settling the roots of the thorns which would one day grow to choke Rhysand's new regime.

Power was power.

That's what Kier would prove to Rhysand. That try as Rhysand might to wear the mask of leadership, Hewn City belonged to him. Each miserable soul who had the misfortune of living there, every onyx brick which made up the hollow streets, Kier owned it all.

Though the Lord of Night was no fool, he saw the flames of rebellion which flickered in the treacherous streets of Hewn. Heard the accusatory whispers which were carried to him by the winds.

So it was decided that Rhysand would play Kier at his own game, opting to plant his own seeds of destruction within the Court of Nightmares. And what better way to uproot Kier's nefarious plans than by welcoming his youngest daughter into his court, choosing to further fuel the inferno which was currently waging war against the political infrastructure of Hewn.

And so Rhysand hired you, standing by with a smile as he watched Kier's world crumble and burn. Waiting to see what move the wounded male would make next.

Leaving you to hope that you don’t get hurt in the process.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: So I know you're probably confused about how we've gone from Part 8 to a prologue. I love the concept of this series I just knew I could do better on the execution so here we are! I’m sorry this has happened but I really want this to be something I’m proud of and I’m already so excited about it!

You can expect more arguments, more tension and more smut!

I'm going to tag all of you on this one just so you know what's going on, but if any of you would like to opt out of the tags I totally understand!

Taglist (let me know if you want to be added):

@esposadomd @gorlillaglue25 @tele86 @azriels-shadowsinger @justvibbinghere @mybestfriendmademe @kalulakunundrum @abysshaven @iluvyewman-blog @lectoracronica @st0rmyt @aunicornmademedoit @blackgirlmagicforever @awkardnerd @acourtof-wingspan @12358 @sh4nn @roses-are-red54330

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #cassian oneshot #cassian fic #cassian imagine #cassian x reader #cassian

[mushroomnoodles]

I think your content is wonderful! It's so wholesome, funny and angsty all at once in the best ways possible. Just wanted to spread some nice love in my ask! ^_^

Does Morrigan talk to any of their little siblings when they're in the womb? For example telling them about some butterflies they saw or just reminding them that they have the most radical big sibs (them and Marcy) ever. I'm not sure how you interpret this, but I like to imagine Morrigan as a very loving big-brother in the universes where he has little siblings. :D

thank you nonnie <3 this is a longer post about morri being a big sibling in multiple aus.

tw/cw for sfw and non kink mpreg

morri talks a LOT to their siblings in the womb, especially golbaby morris, who remember how painfully boring it was sometimes to hear everyone talking around them and not being able to join in. (wizardbetty's morri has... no concept of normal babies not having their level of consciousness.) different morris have different flavors of big-sibling energy.

golbaby morris that get a sibling early on (wizardbetty) are initially concerned and a bit jealous, especially when simon can't carry them anymore and his belly gets in the way of them sitting on his lap. (they threw a little fit when simon first told them he couldn't carry them anymore until after the baby came) with ophelia especially (simon was always talking about how she would never stop moving) lil' morri would put their hands on his tummy and be like "not so hard, baby" because they remember simon telling them that when they would kick him. (side note, simon loves his golbspawn so much even if they bite him)

they're enamored by their tiny baby siblings, think they're stupid (wdym they don't have object permanence) and tries hard to "teach" literal 6 month olds how to read. gets cranky and wants attention when they feel their sibling is getting too much, but also gets fiercely protective of their "dummy" siblings, trying to prevent them from doing dumb things from experience "don't eat that stick, becca, it tastes like butt". as a teen they tend to be a little bit of a menace to their little siblings (who isn't?) but would still kill and die for them.

golbaby morris that get a sibling later on (plainvanilla) are absolutely STOKED to have a sibling, morrigan has always wanted one. much like early sibling morris, they make a point to talk to their unborn siblings often because of their own experience, but with a lot of added enthusiasm. entity pregnancies take longer than human ones, so they'd also be impatient ("girl, you are taking fivever. come out already") they also give me the vibe to poke their siblings back when they kick, partially to bug them but also to interact with them.

older morri's much more of a protective sibling than their younger variants, but with fellow golbspawn siblings morri at least is able to better relate to their baby sisters and brother. they are still the type to teach a 6 month old to read.

normal morris that get a sibling early on (vamparents, candyworld) are just 4 years old when they get their first sibling, and are very confused by their dad's bump (and extremely curious). these morris probably talk the least to their unborn siblings, but still do in part because of their parent's encouragement, mostly just "hi baby" or telling them about what they had for dinner. (vamp morri in particular was sooo excited to see ophelia, simon shared the enthusiasm to meet her but mostly because she was treating him like a punching bag)

(it took sour taffy five months, but they finally figured out what baby meant and where it was!)

vamp morri, when they're older, is much more laidback and totally does their siblings' homework for them, while sour taffy is more likely to just talk their ears off and braid their hair.

#a #i have a mproblem #cw mpreg #tw mpreg #mpreg #simon petrikov mpreg #golbaby #infoposting :d #wizardbetty #candyworld #vamparents

[moonlightazriel]

Before you /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: “hiiii! I have a Az x mate reader request where the whole IC finds out that reader and Rhys used to like hookup casually but stopped before UTM, Az is like wtf bc of Mor and Cass ya know? sad and angsty with happy ending! sorry if it’s so specific lol”

Warnings: Some mentions of smut and some angst.

Word Count: 1,4K

Notes: Thank you so much for this request ❤️❤️ And a big shout out to @azrielhours for suggesting Grammarly, this made writing a lot easier now.

Main Masterlist

“We need to talk.” Y/N entered Rhysand’s office, she looked extremely distressed, her mental shields were high, a giant black wall blocking Rhys out, she would always let him have a look on her mind, he rose an eyebrow, confused.

“What’s wrong darling?” His voice was slow and sensual as he walked towards her, his big finger brushing her arm, making her shiver, he circulated her, his lips glued to the soft spot on her neck, the one he discovered a few years ago when they started their casual hook up.

“Azriel is my mate.” The words came out in a rush from her mouth, Rhysand stopped, his hands falling from her while he gave a few steps back, she was his brother’s mate, they couldn’t keep doing it anymore, and as much as he liked sleeping with her, the idea of Azriel finally founding the mate he always searched for made his heart fill with happiness. “And I want to get closer to him.”

Rhysand smiled, the biggest smile that has ever adorned the high lord’s face, he hugged Y/N, lifting her from the floor and spinning around while he laughed. She felt confused, she hoped that Rhys would understand, but never expected him to be this happy, his happiness almost matching hers since yesterday, when the bond snapped while she trained with Azriel.

It had been nothing special, just the usual training session in the House of Wind, and as they fought, their swords hitting each other at every blow she defended from him, everything changed, he looked at her, his features filled with challenge, challenging her to stop defending and to attack him, and as she looked at his intense gaze, she felt the thread that tethered them together for the rest of their lives, glowing and singing so beautifully that she lost her focus, giving him the chance to disarm her and point the sharp end of his sword directly at her throat.

“Does he know?” Rhys asked, the two sitting in front of his desk, he grabbed her hand, like they were two little girls talking about boys.

“Not yet, but he has the right to know, I’ll tell him. I hope that he’ll not be disappointed having me as his mate.” He squeezed her hands, reassuringly.

“He’s lucky to have you as a mate darling, I’m sure everything will work out just fine, I’m so happy for the both of you.” He pulled her in for a hug, and she smiled, feeling happy to have him with her at that moment.

“Are we still going to be friends?” She asked hesitantly.

“Always. No matter what.”

70 years later

The cold glass reached Azriel’s lips as he hid his laughter, Nesta scolding Cassian would always be funny to watch, he took a look around, everyone sitting one a circle while they drunkenly shared stories, Y/N head was resting on his shoulder, her soft giggle reached his ears every once in a while, Morrigan was finishing one of her stories when Cassian jumped from his sit, eyes wide open, the wine in his glass spilling everywhere as he opened his mouth.

“Do you guys remember when Y/N and Rhys used to hook up?” The entire room fell silent as his loud laughter was the only sound in the room, of course, Azriel didn’t remember, he didn’t know this even happened in the first place. He felt Y/N holding her breath while she locked eyes with Rhysand.

“That’s not true, right?” His voice sounded weird even for him, both his brother and mate looked at him, Y/N flinched as she saw how cold his eyes were, filled with pain and betrayal, they knew how much he had suffered because of Cassian and Mor sleeping together and they choose to do the same behind his back.

“Brother, it’s not what you’re thinking.” He scoffed, already getting up, ready to leave, his eyes landed on Feyre, who was also surprised but didn’t seem as hurt as he was, his mind filling with images of the two together, and the thought that Rhysand knew his mate’s body very well, everything that made her whimper and moans, he must even know about the spot on her neck that can easily get her on her knees.

He turned around, rushing to walk away, ignoring Y/N's pleads for him to stay, he shut her down completely, closing his end of the bond as he marched outside, aiming for the sky, his wings flapping behind his back as he flew away, the tears filling his eyes as he tried to clear his mind.

Cassian had sobered up as soon as he saw what he had done, Y/N was now sitting on the couch, being held by Nesta as she sobbed, Rhys and Feyre had disappeared for a while, probably so he could explain the situation.

“I can talk to Azriel if you want.” Cass scratched his head, unsure of what to do.

“I guess you already did enough for today Cassian.” Nesta snapped at her mate.

“It’s not his fault Nes, we should’ve told him a long time ago.” Y/N spoke, her voice creaking as she cried again, what if Azriel never forgave her, what if he decided to reject the bond, what if he left? She needed to talk to him, she needed to explain to him, she got up suddenly, rushing towards the door, she needed to go home and wait for him.

She waited, for hours, unable to sleep, she would wait the whole week if she had to. She was a mess, her cheeks had makeup stains and her face was swollen from all the crying, that’s why she decided to shower, she took her time cleaning up, and as she was leaving the bathroom she heard the front door being open, rushing to the living room, Azriel was removing his boots, his face red from crying too, her heart breaking at the sight.

“Oh great, you’re here.” He said, his voice laced with sarcasm, she flinched, but she wasn’t going to give up.

“Of course, I’m here, we need to talk.”

“Can’t wait for you to tell me in detail how you betrayed me with my brother.” He sat on the couch, his hands running along his hair as he sighed, annoyed, but at least she would have the chance to talk.

“I wasn’t cheating on you or anything.” Her voice shaking as she knelled in front of him, resting her palms on his legs. “It was years ago, it started as a drunk kiss and then evolved into something more, there were never feelings involved, we would do it mostly when both of us were stressed or bored, but I had to stop it.”

“If it was so good fucking him, why did you stop?” The sarcasm was gone, his voice sounded sad, and defeated, she squeezed his tights.

“Because of you!” He looked her in the eyes, she was being honest, he could feel it deep In his chest, he opened the bond, feeling all of her emotions as she talked. “The bond had snapped for me, in the very next day I went to talk to him, I wanted to be with you, I was already falling in love with you, I was planning on telling you about the bond, so I ended everything, nothing has ever happened between us ever since, were friends and nothing more. I love you Azriel, and only you.”

“Why’d you never tell me?”

“I don’t know, I guess I was trying to prevent this from happening.” She smiled sadly at him. “I know it wasn’t the smartest idea, but I couldn’t hurt you Az, I’m so sorry.” He leaned forward, grabbing one of her hands and forcing her to get up only to pull her to his lap, he hugged her and she felt the tears streaming down her face again.

“Please, don’t do this anymore, whatever you need to tell me, do it. It’s better than finding out from Cassian’s drunk mouth.” His thumb caressed her cheek, wiping away the tears as he kissed her forehead.

“I promise I’ll never do something like this again.” His chest filled with her love while he kissed her, he could taste the salty tears on her lips. “I guess it’s a good time to tell you something.” Azriel rose an eyebrow, scared of what she might say. “ All those years ago, you only disarmed me and won the sparring because the bond snapped and I was distracted.” Azriel laughed, his chest vibrating as he shook his head.

“I don’t need a mating bond distracting you to beat your ass.” he teased and she giggled.

“That’s what we’ll see spymaster.”

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #acotar #shadowsinger #sarahjmaas #velaris #night court #azriel x y/n #a court of thorns and roses #acomaf #moonlightazriel

[aquarines]

#poll #very paraphrased so don't be mad #but yeah they all remind me of each other #dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age 2 #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #zevran #morrigan #alistair #astarion #fenris #shadowheart #gale

[acourtofladydeath]

Here it is folks, my Poly+ ACOTAR Week 2024 Masterlist! It's time to get excited!!!

D1~Beginnings: "How I Met Your Fathers"

🥿 Feyre has a conversation with Nyx about how the bonds snapped between herself, Tamlin, and Rhysand. Inspired by the storytelling of "The Princess Bride" and "How I Met Your Mother" this is angsty, fluffy fun. (Feytamsand)

D2~Comfort: "Hold Me Close, Hold Me Tender"

🩸 Nesta has always struggled with more intense cycles than most, and when she became fae it only got worse. Thankfully, her mates Azriel and Cassian are there to take care of her. (Nessriel)

D3~Secrets: "Stairway Snoops"

👂🏽 Morrigan sleeps at the town house after a night out and as she's trying to sneak out, she learns a secret about four people she never expected to find together. (Azriel X Eris X Cassian X Nesta)

D4~Adventure: "Our Greatest Adventure"

👶🏽 Nesta, Cassian, and Azriel feel their baby kick for the first time and feel all the emotions. (Nessriel)

D5~Favorite Tropes: "Cold Feet, Autumn Fae, and Only One Bed"

🛌🏽 My first attempt at a headcanon post! The Band of Exiles are in a new relationship and immediately had to travel for work. Of course, Jurian books them a room with only one bed... (Jurian X Vassa X Lucien)

D6~Celebration: "Into the Fire"

🔥 Feyre doesn't listen when Tamlin tells her to stay in her room during Calanmai, and they both wind up in the cave with a very beastly Tamlin to complete the rite. *smut* (Feytamcien/Lufeylin)

D7~Free Day: "Know Your Place"

Chapter 1 of a new multichapter fic titled "Return to the Hewn City" 🦇 Eris and Nesta follow through on the conversation they had in the epilogue of "3 Jewels in the Hewn City" and teach their Illyrian mates their place. *smut* (Azris X Nessian)

I can't wait to share these all with you during @polyacotarweek!!!

Which one are you most excited for? Let me know in the comments and tags!

#acotar #acosf #nessriel #feytamsand #acotar fanfic #poly+acotarweek2024 #LD writes #LD masterlist #nesta archeron #feyre archeron #rhysand #cassian #azriel #eris vanserra #lucien vanserra #jurian #vassa #band of exiles #nesta x azriel #nezriel #neris #nesta x eris #nesta x azriel x cassian #nesta x cassian x azriel #tamsand #tamlin x rhysand #tamlin #feyre x rhysand #feysand #tamlin x feyre

[moodymelanist]

Last anon again, for more of an angsty wlw Nessian maybe Nesta finding out that Mor is Cass's ex and getting insecure about it? Only if that vibes with you of course!

just something quick from when I was waiting for the eclipse to peak earlier 🌘🌘

“That’s your ex?” Nesta seethed the second Mor walked into the party, turning to look at Cass with as fierce of a glare as she could muster up. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I didn’t know she would be here,” Cass replied with a grimace. “It’s not like I planned this!”

Cass had invited Nesta as her plus one to Rhysand’s birthday party, and to everyone’s surprise, the ever-elusive Morrigan had been in town long enough to actually show up. Nesta had never met the other woman until just now, although she’d heard plenty about her over the almost eight months she and Cass had been officially dating.

Perfect, golden Mor, with her sunny smiles and bubbly personality. She was the exact opposite of Nesta, and God, did Nesta fucking know it. She was actually personable, people seemed excited to see her, and she had to be one of the most gorgeous women Nesta had ever seen.

What the hell was someone like Cass doing with someone like Nesta when Mor was in her orbit? Nesta was all sharp edges and snarky comments on the best of days, and seeing Mor in the flesh was like a slap in the face. Cass could be doing so much better; who the hell was Nesta to think she deserved someone like Cass—

“Sweetheart,” Cass said, calling Nesta’s attention back to her. Her girlfriend was biting her lip a little nervously, and Nesta would’ve felt bad for worrying her had she not been so caught up in her own head. “You okay?”

“She’s just…” Nesta trailed off, not sure how to answer the question. “I just don’t get why you’d settle for me when you already had someone like that.”

“Settle for you?” Cass repeated with an incredulous little laugh. Nesta’s eye twitched a little at being laughed at, and Cass sighed heavily. “Sorry, sorry. I just — Nes, why would you ever think that?”

“Because she’s actually nice and friendly and a way better person than me,” Nesta grumbled. “So.”

Cass sighed again before guiding Nesta to a more secluded area of the bar they were in. “Where is this coming from?”

“I’d never actually seen her before,” Nesta eventually answered, wishing she was anywhere but here having this conversation about her feelings. “And now I’m just sitting here watching everyone love on her!”

“Not me,” Cass argued back with a little frown. She pushed some of her curls back out of her face before adding, “I’ve been over her for years, Nes. I love you.”

“What?” Nesta blurted out, shocked. They hadn’t said those words yet, and to say it here of all places…

“That wasn’t— I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” Cass answered. Her cheeks were turning a little red and she stepped in closer to Nesta. “I’m sorry.”

“But did you mean it?” Nesta asked, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Yes,” Cass told her. “Sweetheart, come on, how couldn’t I feel that way?”

“You already had the best,” Nesta muttered.

“You’re not a fucking downgrade,” Cass snapped, clearly losing her patience a little bit. “She fucking cheated on me! Why would I want to go back to that?”

Nesta felt like a little bit of an idiot, but to be fair, they hadn’t exactly talked about it. “Oh.”

“And even if she hadn’t,” Cass continued, clearly on a roll now, “you’re way out of my fucking league, and I’m in love with you, so why does this even matter.”

“Just— because,” Nesta answered lamely. It was a little hard to feel insecure when Cass had said twice now that she loved Nesta, but her brain seemed to always find a way. “I’m sorry. This was stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Cass automatically countered. “I just hate that you’re thinking about yourself like this, Nes.”

“It’s not like I’m doing it on purpose.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Cass leaned down to give Nesta a kiss, her lips warm and soft against Nesta’s. “You ready to go back to the party now?”

“Yeah,” Nesta said, and then was embarrassed all over again when realized she hadn’t answered Cass’ words earlier. “And I love you too, you know.”

“I know,” Cass said back with an easy grin. She offered Nesta her hand and they both smiled a little goofily at each other for a few moments. “Come on, Nes.”

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @fieldofdaisiies | @goddess-aelin | @c-e-d-dreamer | @talkfantasytome | @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk | @sv0430 | @talibunny30 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @champanheandluxxury | @lilah-asteria | @burningsnowleopard | @sayosdreams | @readskk | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @bellaful08 | @readergalaxy | @podemechamardek | @pearlfortears | @nerdperson524 | @jmoonjones | @kale-theteaqueen | @autumnbabylon | @hiimheresworld | @illyrianshadowhunter | @dustjacketmusings | @live-the-fangirl-life | @that-little-red-head | @sweet-pea1 | @brieq | @queercontrarian | @jsmelodies | @afflicted-with-wanderlust

#Nessian #acotar #acosf #nesta archeron #cassian #pro Nessian #pro nesta archeron #pro cassian #moodymelanistwrites #anon asks #Nessian prompts #wlw!nessian