#the rose oneshot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sillymercury · 3 months

Text

“What Are You Doing?”

“I… Was Told There Was an Emergency...”

AzrielxReader

Warnings: none other than the lack of proof reading :p

Word count: 5.5k

(meant to be a blurb lol ig idk how to do that)

Summary: Azriel’s shadows have decided that they found someone far more interesting to listen to.

Thank you @kayjayjwrites for this ask, I’ve had a lot of fun writing it. Sorry it came a little later than I said it would but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

A yawn escaped Azriel as he stared down the papers on his desk. He was behind, three missions he put off documenting. He honestly wouldn’t have done it if Rhys wasn’t hounding him saying he wasn’t getting another job until he was caught up.

He didn’t hate his job, he didn’t particularly love it but he took pride in what he did for his court. What he did hate was the bureaucratic end of things, logging his missions in excruciating detail so they can be stored away on the off chance it might need revisited.

He had caught himself nodding off multiple times. The words would blur and his blinks would get slower and slower until his head hit the desk. His shadows, the pestering presence they were, were quick to wake him up.

Finish, finish this,

Keep working,

Sleep after.

At this point it was sheer frustration keeping him awake, weren’t his shadows meant to bend towards his will? The thought of snuffing out the fae light and climbing into bed with his hands over his ears was becoming more and more enticing as the night droned on. Azriels eyes began to close for the umpteenth time and just when he thought his shadows would give up they began swirling around him frantically. He almost groaned at their dramatics until their whispering bordered screaming.

Get up,

Quickly,

Y/n needs you,

Hurry, hurry.

The shadows all spoke over each other and their urgency had Azriel standing up so quick his chair hit the floor. His heart moved as frantically as his shadows at the thought of you. The thought of you hurt, the thought of you in danger, the thought of you scared and alone and needing him.

His feet matched the frenzy as they carried him to the shelf that held the truth teller, his shaking hands sheathed it. Azriel was a composed man, only cracking under severity; and you… you were severe. You had a way of moving him out of his dark safe corner and into the blinding light of day.

Your eyes could move him to tears, your body would make his hands shake, your laugh kicked open every door he used to keep others out. You were a parasite; infecting every part of him and making it your own.

Azriel was ready to punch a hole through his wall and fly around Prythian raining hellfire until he found you and made you safe again. Where? He thought, where is she?

Her house, his shadows answered dutifully before enveloping him and carrying him there. He was ready, ready to fight off whoever-whatever- was hurting you. Whether the demons were mental or corporeal, he would fight to his last breath. You were everything, everything he wanted, needed, everything he prayed for. You just didn’t know it yet, it hadn’t snapped for you. He didn’t care though, he would spend the next 500 years proving his devotion even if you never felt it.

Within seconds his shadows had carried him through space, into your living room. The scent of you was everywhere, gentle overtaking his olfactory sense and filling him with fierce determination.

“Y/n!” The called out as he surveyed the room, everything looked normal, well, for you. Granted things were strewn about, out of order, and placed haphazardly; but not in a way that was alarming.

“Y/n,” he called again and was met with silence, he moved through your house swiftly and silently. He kept his eyes peeled for any sign of you.

Bedroom, his shadows told him. At the end of the hall he pushed open the lightly cracked door and slipped into your room. The room held no sight of you, just thick with your scent. The only noise was light shuffling from your adjourned bathroom. He took a silent step towards the door and in that moment you came out. He froze.

You were fine, you were more than fine. His wide eyes met yours and he tried his best to keep them there but they seemed to have a mind of their own. They trailed to your wet hair that was dripping onto your shoulders. His pesky eyes followed the water from your bare shoulder, to the contour of your breast, to your exposed tummy, around its pretty jewelry, down your hips, before disappearing behind your thighs. Your shocked expression matched his as you stood in only a bra and underwear, clearly fresh out of the shower. He felt the heat climb his face, he wanted to run, hide, avoid any implications. But for some unholy reason he stood, petrified, staring at you half naked-absolutely divine- body.

“What are you doing?” You asked once you finally got over the initial shock of seeing him in your room. Anyone else would’ve gotten a more visceral reaction but this was Az, the only one you wanted to see you like this. You also didn’t mind the way his eyes tracked every curve and dip of your body. You bit your lip to hide your smirk and that snapped his eyes back to your face.

“I… was told there was an emergency…” he shifted on his feet as his eyes darted back and forth from your body to your face.

You bit back your laugh, the feared shadowsinger, spymaster of the night was red faced and nervous. Definitely a sight to behold. “Who told you that?” You crossed your arms under your chest, lightly pushing up the twins. Something he didn’t miss, and you didn’t miss the deeper red his face took. His mouth opened and closed like a fish and he seemed to have lost whatever small grip was keeping his shadows in place. They slithered across the floor before circling up your legs, over your bum, around your hips and waist. You giggled at the sensation, seemingly exciting by the shadows as they made their way up, examining the lace that covered your breast. Their boldness elicited a gasp, one that snapped Azriel out of his trance.

“I am so sorry- I don’t- I should go,” his words were quick as he fumbled over himself. He dragged the shadows away and before you could speak, tell him to stay, he was gone and so were his shadows.

You couldn’t help but laugh, a full belly laugh as you walked towards your bed with a little extra pep. The only proof of the encounter being the goosebumps on your skin and the light smell of his arousal in your room.

Azriel materialized in his room and stood there for- he doesn’t know how long he stood there. Trying to come to terms with what he saw, what you saw he saw, and how horrible his shadows had behaved. “What… was that?” He whispered into the darkness of his room, still frozen in place. He was horrified, completely embarrassed, and confused. His shadows said you needed him, led him there for seemingly no reason. His shadows hadn’t defied him since he was a child, scared of his own power.

The shadows didn’t answer him, just danced around seemingly pleased with themselves. He wanted to go back and apologize but he was too mortified, convinced he wouldn’t be able to face you for a hundred years. He crawled under his covers and cursed his shadows, not even brave enough to deal with the tightness that grew in his pants.

It was hot, Velaris was seemingly boiling. That didn’t slow down the Illyrians, rain or shine they would train. Azriel had taken off his shirt and the sweat flowed through the contours of his muscles, covering his body in a sticky dew. He had just finished sparring with Cass and was wiping the sweat from his brow when his shadows spoke.

Emergency,

Something’s wrong at the south pond,

Get there quickly,

“Cass!” He hollered to his brother, as he grabbed a two swords. He threw one to Cass who caught it coolly. “We’re needed,”. Was all he offered before taking to the skies. Cass followed closely behind as they swooped from the house of wind towards the small forest that was on the south side of Velaris. The boys were already warmed up, ready to face whatever emergency faced them. They circled the sky around the pond and didn’t see any immediate threat, it just looked like some fae had met up for a swim.

Cass landed first and Azriel was right behind him. They surveyed the scene and just as they saw in the sky; nothing was wrong. The only thing they saw were females, everywhere.

“Alright brother,” Cass clapped Azriel on the back with a shit-eating grin. “Not what I expected but you’re right, they do need us.” He tossed his sword on the ground and started making his way to the bank, at least three females came to greet him; he engaged happily.

Azriel wasn’t yet convinced. Still dragging his eyes all across the domain, trying to spot what called his shadows here. His keen eyes took in everything, every person, until they landed on you.

Walking out of the water you looked like a fae from those raunchy magazines Cass used to steal as a boy. An all too small bikini clung to your wet body as you made your way out of the water, toward him. Three tiny pink triangles covered the important parts but the rest was just string, leaving nearly your whole body one display. He watched your hips sway, your wet hair clinging to your face and shoulders, the glittering belly ring, and the small smirk on your face as you too looked him up and down.

“You’re not going to use that are you?” You stopped in front of him, referencing to the sword he gripped with all his strength. He watched as you flipped your hair to one side and began ringing it out. The urge to kiss the sensitive spot between your neck was so intense his lips were quivering.

“No I…” he once again was at a loss for words, “I just brought it.” Lame. He was so lame he wanted to die.

You just giggled, the sound like a cool wave over his hot body. You reached over and gently wrapped your hands around his, pulling it from his hands and discarding it with Cassian’s. His eyes were trained on your face the entire time, you weren’t put off by his scars. Your face wasn’t marred with disgust or pity, just blissful normalcy.

You smiled up at him, “Are you going to join us?” He just nodded, not even considering no as an option. Cass already discarded his pants and boots and was loudly entertaining most of the ladies. But Azriels eyes were trained on your back… side, as he followed you to the water like a puppy. It wasn’t until his shoes were sopping wet at the bank that he realized he should probably strip as well.

When he was down to only his boxers and he tossed his pants and boots back to safety. The way you shamelessly admired him gave him his confidence back.

The two of you spent hours, swimming circles around each other, splashing, pushing the other under. He would lift you high out of the water so you could do flips back in. He would put you on his shoulders so you could take turns playing chicken with whatever female climbed onto his brother; he was proud to say you won every time. He followed you all the way to the deep end and despite his distaste for swimming he didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world as you clung to him, telling stories of your childhood in this exact watering hole. He could’ve stayed in the water forever, content to grow wrinkles all over if it meant you would stay close to him.

When the sun had threatened to leave the sky was when you had decided to get out. Your friends were going to a diner to finish of the night with milkshakes and gossip, you offered and invitation and despite being willing to follow you wherever you asked he had to decline. Rhys had tried to contact him multiple times, all of which he ignored. Based on the aggravated tone, Cass was doing the same. He knew staying away any longer would only cause an angry high lord scaling the streets in search of them.

Cass begrudgingly followed his lead, after kissing more than an appropriate amount of females on the cheek, bidding them all goodnight with the promise of seeing them again.

The boys flew home, landing in front of the town house. Before facing the wrath of their in the dark brother Cassian stopped in front of Azriel and grabbed both of his shoulders. With a wide smile he leaned in and placed a sloppy kiss on his cheek, before he could react Cass had kissed the other one.

“I love you brother,” he said with so much sincerity Az rolled his eyes. “I’ll handle business with you any day,” Cass pulled him into a bone crushing hug that Azriel had to use all of his force to get out of. He wiped the wet spots on his cheeks before shaking his head. He pushed past his babbling brother and made his way to the front door. Cass walked in with an arrogant swagger, one that stayed with him for the next week and a half.

The frustration didn’t show on Azriels face, nothing showed on Azriels face, as he trailed diligently behind Mor. Yet another shopping spree he was dragged into with the role of being ‘designated bag carrier.’ He never complained even though he’d rather be doing anything else right now, he didn’t show it. Even though he knew Mor knew that, and even though Mor knew that he knew that she knew that.

“Thank you again Azriel, I swear I’m almost done.” He nodded along, knowing that she was almost done 2 hours ago.

It seemed everyone in the city was out shopping, the streets of the retail sector were jam packed. It was likely that most people were, with a new season approaching all of the soon to be out-of-season styles were on sale. Something that motivated Mor, giving her a much needed excuse for retail therapy.

Azriel kept his wings tucked in tight as he shimmied through bodies crowding the cobble stone. “Okay so we’ll stop at Loraine’s, she has the best Jewelry. Then we’ll have to hit up that new little boutique, hopefully all of the good shoes aren’t gone already. Oh! And we absolutely have to visit Anderson on the end of the block, he’ll kill me if I don’t come check out his sun dresses. He always holds the red ones back for me. Honestly my closet…” Mor continued to ramble on about each and every store that demanded she visit but Azriel tuned it out. Leaving behind the notion of soon as the math of how long he would be out continued to produce a higher and higher number.

Without trying to think about it, he followed Mor into the little jewelry shop that she just spoke about. The shelves were covered in glittering jewels that sat on display behind glass. Nothing caught his interest, he didn’t care for flashy add ons, so he just made his way to one of the plush chairs in the corner. He set the plethora of bags down as he slunk back, enjoying a moment of rest as he knew Mor would be taking her time. His eyes closed but his reaction was short lived when his shadows began of informing him of a situation.

Across the street,

Someone’s not supposed to be here,

Go quickly.

He cracked an eye open and glanced out the window. The streets looked normal enough and he couldn’t hear any commotion over the bustling. Someone’s not supposed to be here? He would have been notified earlier if anyone got through the Velarian wards. He should’ve been notified earlier. He stood up slowly, assessing the street. Just because everything looked normal doesn’t mean it was.

He abandoned Mor’s bags and moved towards the door, when he pushed it open he never stepped out. Instead a shadow slipped across the ground, going unnoticed on the busy street.

He slid under the crack of the door and after clocking his surroundings he determined he was in a woman’s nightwear store. There were night gowns and matching pj’s covering mannequins and racks in the front.

Back,

Behind the curtain.

His shadows informed him of the intruders location and he slid in the corner where the wall met the floor, making his way to the back. The store was relatively empty, only a few patrons; a couple, an older fae, and a young male that looked at the stock like a critic.

Slipping behind the curtain that separated the front from the back he was faced with three small dressing rooms. He materialized and placed his hand on the truth teller that rested on his upper thigh. It was quiet back here, the only shuffling came from one of the dressing rooms. He heard a click and a voice; your voice.

“Mav!” You called out as you stepped out of one of the rooms. He moved, trying to run, trying to get out of there. Realization of the stunt his shadows had once again pulled, dawned on him but it was too late.

“Az?” You questioned. The nickname had him stopping before he could escape sight. His heart beat like a war dum against his chest and he felt his hand dampen on the curtain he was holding. For a moment he contemplated winnowing away, saving the embarrassment for another day.

His turn was slow and painful, when his back was against the curtain he looked down and regretted not running. You were clad in a lace nightgown that barley covered the curve of your bottom. The top was push up, covered in shined lace while the bottom was layers of baby pink sheer material. If he looked closely he could see the diamond jewelry on your belly button and your matching shiney underwear shining through. He attempted to swallow the lump that was sitting in the middle of his throat but it didn’t budge so all he managed was a straggled gasp.

A devilish smirk, the one that tempted his knees, took control of your lips. You leaned against the stall, popping your hip out with a hand resting lazily on top. You tilted your head and looked him up and down, “Don’t tell me there’s another emergency.”

His eyes almost jumped out of his head and pink brushed from his neck, to his ears, and all across his face. You knew, of course you knew, you were the one he was barging in on. He tried to speak but that was impossible, seeing you in something so intimate, something he’d only dreamed of seeing you in, he could only shake his head back and forth.

“Okay so I also found that in this pretty blue-oh!” The young male from earlier had pushed through the curtain and was standing rigid as he looked between you and Az. He was only stuck for a few seconds before a smile that matched yours in mischief graced his face. “What do you think shadowsinger?”

His sultry voice took Azriel back, and the heat in his face doubled, “I- it’s,” he cleared his throat as he looked at the tiny blue dress. Cobalt blue, it was the same hue of his siphons. The thought of seeing you in that…

“It’s beautiful,” you finished for him. You pushed off the stall and moseyed over, closer to Az’s still frozen stature. “I absolutely love this color!” You took the thin fabric in delicate hands, feeling the material. “I’ll put it on,” you took the small thing from your friend before looking Az directly in the eye. You just smiled before walking back into the changing closet.

Azriel let out a low breath before bringing his hands up to drag the course of his face. This had to stop happening.

A snicker came from next to him and he looked over to, Mav, who had his arms crossed over his chest and a knowing glint in his eye. Az briefly wondered if you had told your friend about his little appearing act. The way Mav was looking at him, he’s sure you did. “You gonna stay for the final result?”

Yes, yes, yes! His shadows chanted in his ear and he shook his head roughly to keep them out of his ear.

“No, I gotta- busy!” He practically ripped the curtain with the force he pulled it open. He cleared the store in a few long strides before pushing himself free. In his daze he ended up colliding with a smaller frame.

“Az!” Mor yelled, straightening the dress he rumpled. “What are you-“ he eyes narrowed before glancing behind him, Jaim’s Nightwear was painted in delicate cursive on the windows. “What the hell were you doing?”

Az glanced once back at the shop before at Mor, “Embarrassing myself apparently.”

Mor clocked his flush demeanor before looking back at the window. She squinted her eyes again, tilting her head. She pondered doing some shopping at Jaim’s and Azriel’s speedy ‘no!’ only intrigued her more. She moved to step around him but Azriel’s hands clapped on her shoulder, turning her around and directing her back to the jewelry store across the street.

A low hum left the shadowsinger as he climbed up the ramp of the library. He scanned the isles looking for ‘Fiction- Rac.’

He had attended Nesta’s monthly book club with the priestesses, a guilty pleasure only the attendees knew of. He had offered to carry the books back to their rightful spot, an offer he was now regretting. The isle that held the thick fiction books had evaded him, and he had been walking back and forth for a half an hour now. A few priestesses had offered their help but he insisted they return to their work, that he could do it himself.

He decided to try the ‘Rab’ isle, keeping his wings tucked as his presence filled the narrow space. He almost cursed, debating throwing the books on a rack and letting someone else deal with it. His eye had just caught the beginning of ‘Rac’ when his attention was diverted.

You are needed,

Go now,

He ignored the shadows, pushing on towards his destination. He wasn’t about to fall into their trap again, he didn’t think he could handle another awkward encounter.

She needs help,

She needs you.

They insisted but Az just shook his head, looking for the correct author. “I’m not doing this again,” he whispered back. His luck she’d probably be in that little blue get-up and she’d have to clean up the puddle he’d melt into.

Go now!

Or regret it!

She will get hurt!

He groaned as he leaned his forehead against the cool self. The thought of you being hurt, even though he doubted you were, trumped his need to protect his ego. With his shadows whispering in his ear he had to see you were safe, and when you inevitably were he would come back and finish his job.

“Fine, but if she’s in her underwear again-“ the shadows cut him of chanting go, go, go! “Okay,” he was defeated, a slave to the torture his shadows were hell bent on putting him through. “Where is she?”

Home,

Her house.

“Good gods- I’m winnowing outside and if she’s half naked I swear I’m never listening to-“ he was cut off again by his shadows. This time it wasn’t a whisper, the seemed to bellow, angry at his reluctance.

Now!

With the urgency from his shadows he dropped the books on the floor, leaving them for whichever poor priestess found them first. After moving through space in the blink of an eye he landed on your front porch. He lifted his hand to knock, he wasn’t going to barge in and show up in the middle of your room uninvited- again.

Before his fist could connect with the door the sound of you screaming had him stumbling back. “Get out!” Followed by breaking glass. Your voice was shrill and panicked and it lit a protective fire inside of him.

He blinked again and he was inside your living room. Shadows were let loose across the space, crawling from his body to every corner of the room. You were there and so was a clearly unwanted presence. You were pressed against your mantle, gripping a vase like a weapon while the male staggered a few feet in front of you. He didn’t need his shadows to inform him about the alcohol that reeked from the man. His blood boiled and metaphorical claws were bared, he was going to kill the male that intruded on your space.

“Crazy bitch! Where’d you go?” The man slurred out as he waved his hands wildly in front of him; desperate to clear the opaque mist and find his target.

The name you didn’t deserve to be called had snapped Azriel into action, like a tensed spring he shot in front of the man. “I’m right here,” he whispered, mere inches from the drunk. The man made a shocked sound, startled by the new voice and its proximity. The man threw a pathetic punch, a low chuckle left Az’s lips as he caught the fist.

With a skilled spin he was behind the man, pressing his wrist between his shoulder blades in an uncomfortable contortion.

A straggled scream left his throat and Azriel cleared his shadows, wanting a proper look at who he was dealing with. The male was nothing special, skinny and pale with dull brown hair. His blue eyes looked hollow and glassy and the stench of alcohol absolutely assaulted Azriel’s senses at the proximity.

“You’d be wise not to try that again,” Azriel’s dark voice met the shell of the man’s ear. His eyes flickered up to you, wide eyed watching the scene play out. “What are you doing here?”

“Let me go! I just want to talk to her!” Azriel pressed his wrist higher and the male made a noice between a grunt and a scream. “Please!”

Tightening the grip on his wrist Azriel let out a low growl, this male was already too close, Azriel was never going to give him a chance to get closer. “I don’t think she wants to speak to you,” his low voice was eerily calm, steady as he leaned down to speak in the stranger’s ear. “Do you, Y/n?” His eyes moved back to you and watched as you viciously shook your head back and forth. “Well,” the grin in his voice was audible, “that settles that.”

Azriel gave the man a hard shove to which his shadows caught him, they carried him off to somewhere Azriel could deal him later. His eyes scanned the room once more, checking for any lingering danger, any hint of another threat. His shadows scowered the rest of the house, closing and locking any window that could be used as an entry point.

“Az,” you breathed before dropping the vase. The tough glass didn’t shatter, instead it rolled away while you ran. Within seconds your arms were around his neck with your face buried in his chest. He relished in your closeness, arms circling your waist with his nose finding your shoulder. A greedy breath reminded him you were safe, in his arms where no bastard would touch or even talk to you unwarranted. “I’m so glad that worked, I was worried that it wouldn’t, that I pushed to hard with it when you took awhile to get here but-“

“Wait what? What’re you talking about?” He pulled back to look down at you. Confusion had knitted his brows together and pushed his head onto an axis.

“Oh- I well… nothing,” you pulled back and turned away, red dusting your cheeks as your eyes fought to hide from him. Usually he was the flustered one, looking like boy whose hand had been caught in a cookie jar. But the roles were now reversed, you looked like you were dodging trouble of your own creation.

Azriel grabbed your wrist, delicately, turning you around to face him. He caught your chin in his other hand and angled your head to face him, “What did you want to work?”

You turned your eyes down but he just lifted your chin higher, your pink cheeks turned positively rosey and you shook your head. “Fine,” you breathed before pulling away from him completely. He watched as you moved around the glass you had previously thrown and made your way to the couch. “Well,” you started, drawing lines in your the cushion to keep from looking at him, “remember when we met? At that monster exchange?”

He nodded, “Of course.” He would never forget, catching a dove in an underground tavern full of monsters and the beats they aimed to sell. He had been tracking the traveling convention all across the night court, attempting to find who was running the trade. It was a highly illegal exchange and when he’d found you, you had begged to not be arrested, claiming curiosity brought you there. He let you go, told you to run while he dealt with the others.

“Well when I got home I noticed I had a little friend,” she held her hand out and to Azriel’s surprise, a shadow fell into her hand. It had danced out of its hiding spot in your hair and looped around your fingers, stuck to you like it was your own to wield. He just stared, mouth agape, to caught in his own shock to respond. “I started talking to it, they’re great listeners.” A giggle fell from your lips as you wiggled your fingers and the shadow weaved and bobbed through your digits. “And for some reason whenever I spoke of you, of wanting to see you, you would show up.”

You looked up tentatively, worried to see an angry Azriel. Instead you were faced with pure shock, he looked so lost so you felt the need to go on.

“I didn’t know it would tell you to come, not originally. Then after that first night, your shadows told you it was an emergency and I started taking advantage of that. Telling it to fetch you so I could see you again.” You looked back down, clearly ashamed of your admission. You couldn’t see the smirk that was growing on Azriel’s lips. “I know you’re busy, and-and it’s unfair to pull you away from your work like that. I shouldn’t have used your own shadow against you- gods- I’m so sorry. I’ll never-“

Your words were caught off by a laugh, a loud belly laugh. Azriel was practically doubled over. The realization had his face crinkled and his hands gripping his stomach as he gasped for air. You laughed nervously, adding him, “Your not mad?”

He stood up, still laughing but controlling it. His dimples were on full display and you melted a little, feeling ease wash over you.

“No, no I’m not mad,” he moved for the couch, “I’m glad I finally found out why my shadows are so willing to lie to me. It’s because they’re in kahoots with you.” He sat down and took your hand, your full smile matched his, “Never apologize for wanting to see me, I’ll come whenever you call.”

You blushed and nodded, laughing some more yourself. You stuck out the hand that held his shadow, “Here. You can have this back.”

He just shook his head with a smile, pushing your hand back. “Keep it, you can use it to get ahold of me.”

You looked back to him, the look on his face was one of pure ease, happiness and bliss, you loved to see it. You two sat there smiling at each other like idiots when you felt a tug on your heart. The tug got stronger and stronger until it snapped. With a gasp you threw your hand over your heart, as if the bond was tangible, something you could grab with your hands.

“It’s you,” you whisper leaning in slightly.

“And it’s you,” he whispered back after following you in.

You felt a tug on the bond, like he was pulling you towards him, you tugged back with a smile. You had always wanted to find your mate and you wouldn’t admit it just yet but you had wanted it to be Azriel since you met him underground.

You threw your head back, it was your turn to belly laugh. “Good gods! No wonder you always came running!”

He narrowed his eyes and let out a playful growl before pulling you into his arms. You giggled and wrapped your arms around him, looking at him in his eyes. “I’m glad it’s you,” was all you said before offering him a peck on the lips.

He beamed back, ��I’m also glad it’s you.” He pulled you down for another kiss which you returned passionately.

“Soo..” you drawled pulling back, “Would you like to see that little blue number?” He responded with a low growl and nip at your ear. You laughed at his answer before jumping off the couch, you grabbed his hand and he happily let you drag him to your room.

A/N: My first request🥰🥰🥰 this was so fun, literally send more I live live live for them. I rlly hope my requester enjoyed this 🥲

Also I’m still working on ‘I’m Not Crazy, She is!’ Pt. 2 but it’s gonna be a long one so give me some time with that🙏🏽

As always if you made it this far I LOVE YOUUU<3<3 thank you so much for reading yall I love doing these.

Masterlist

Tag list: @gorlillaglue25

1K notes · View notes

illyrianbitch · 3 months

Text

Back to Our Roots

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: With the Acheron sisters out of town, you and your family plan for a quiet night in— just like old times.

Warnings: drug use, just fun lil high times tbh. Az being a cute partner, Cassian and Reader being best friend and war strategy planning goals

Word Count: 2.3k

An installment of the Mirthroot Mini-Series

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

As if she had sensed their arrival, Mor squeezed through your half-opened door and shut it swiftly behind her, wearing a sly smile that made Rhysand instantly still.

“Heyy, guys.”

Rhysand and Azriel exchanged a look before bringing their attention to the blonde in front of them once more, her body angled awkwardly to block the entirety of your doorway.

“Mor,” Rhys said, eyeing her with a scrutinizing gaze, “Why do you look so guilty?”

She held his gaze for a moment, her mouth falling open slightly as she blinked. Then, she casted a glance to her side before giving a small sheepish smile “Because I am?”

Rhysand’s eyes narrowed even more. “Is that a question or an admission?”

Mor’s smile widened as she gave a small shrug.

“Mor.”

Her eyes were brought to Azriel as he spoke, an expression on his face that mirrored that of Rhysands. His shadows hadn’t warned him of any imminent danger, hadn’t informed him of any threats. Yet Mor stood in front of him with a sense of suspicion he wasn’t able to read.

She remained quiet, opting to raise a brow at him instead.

“Morrigan.”

Mor's smile faltered. "I had no part in this. It was their idea, I swear," she admitted.

Rhys dipped his chin slightly. "Whose?"

"Y/n and Cass.”

Azriel had grown tired of the conversation, of the strange stalling Mor was attempting to do. The mention of your name snapped the last threat of his patience, and with a swift and determined movement, he brushed past Mor, his expression unreadable as he entered your home. Instantly, his shadows slithered along the walls and floors, guiding him unerringly toward you.

Mor trailed after him, her steps quickening. "Truly, I didn't realize how... well, you'll see," she called after Azriel, her voice echoing in the hallway.

It had been a long day. Azriel was looking forward to relaxing tonight, to spending time with his family in a way he hadn’t been able to recently, not when there had been so many concerns, so many threats to worry about. Driven by his eagerness to see you, and a small growing fear that had nestled into his heart at Mor’s welcome, he paid little attention to the subtle noises drifting around him or the faint aroma that began to fill the air.

It didn’t properly hit him until he began opening the dainty glass doors to your living room.

As they swung open, Azriel was instantly hit by a powerful scent, his hand flying to his nose reflexively. Earthy and woody, with a sharp edge that hinted at… skunk?

Azriel blinked.

He recognized this smell. It was one he knew deeply— one he hadn't encountered in what felt like centuries. Blinking rapidly, Azriel squinted to see through the dense cloud that enveloped the room, the air thick and difficult to breathe. With his vision obscured, he could barely make out the shapes on the ground before him. But quickly, through the haze, he discerned your and Cassian's forms, laying leisurely amidst the swirling smoke.

A smile tugged at his lips.

From behind him, Azriel heard the shuffling of Mor and Rhysand as they entered the room, a strong cough following their entrance.

Rhysand let out a whistle, walking to stand next to Azriel. “Damn.”

Despite the three new presences in your living room, neither you nor Cassian seemed to notice. The cloudiness of the room, now seemingly thicker than before, suggested to Azriel that you and Cassian were indeed on a completely different level than him and Rhysand– than Mor, as well, from what he could gather.

You laid on the ground, your hair messily sprawled over your soft rug, eyes closed in bliss, a gentle laughter escaping your lips. Azriel could make out the movements of Cassian’s frame beside you as he mirrored your laughter.

"It's been like this for hours. I thought it would wear off by now," Mor murmured.

Azriel turned his head to look at her, watching as she walked over to one of your bookshelves. She picked up a small container before turning around.

"I guess it's just... really strong?" Mor offered, her expression marked by furrowed brows and a hint of uncertainty. She offered the container towards Rhys with an extended hand.

Rhysand grabbed it gently, examining it before giving it a light squeeze, the top popping off with a small sound. He brought it to his nose. Instantly, he recoiled with yet another small cough.

��Gods, Mor. That is horribly potent.”

Azriel grabbed the container next, bringing it up to smell in the same manner his brother had. Faintly, he felt the cool slick of his shadows as they snaked up his body, a few around his arms, a few curling around his ears in curiosity, attempting to get a better look. The scent tickled his nostrils and he drew back, his shadows mirroring his movements as if the scent had, somehow, also hit them too. Azriel looked up through his brows, casting a quick glance over to where you laid.

“This has rootdust,” Azriel stated, holding up the container for emphasis. “Mor, this is basically all rootdust.”

Mirthroot was a tricky herb to work around. You and Azriel had your fair share of expertise, spending many of your younger years sneaking out into the mountains to smoke together. All of you dabbled, at some point, with holidays spent at the cabin covered in smoke. You and Az had a habit of collecting as much rootdust as possible, a tradition of making the last smoke of the holiday the strongest one— a grand finish, you used to say. Azriel always loved it. But it had been years, and from what Az could tell, Mor wasn’t as skilled as she once was in recognizing the quality of what she was taking in.

“Oh,” Mor breathed out. “Well. I guess we got a really good deal then, huh?”

Rhysand let out an amused breath. “Are you telling me that Cassian and Y/n have been smoking the most highly concentrated part of mirthroot casually?”

“For hours?” Azriel added.

Mor sheepishly smiled once more, "Like I said– it was their idea," she responded, her tone laced with a hint of amusement.

With a thoughtful hum, Azriel turned away from Mor, his gaze now fixed on you. He made his way towards you, his shadows leaping forward eagerly, swirling around him like excited children. Within seconds, they reached your form, gently dancing around your body in movements that elicited soft giggles from your lips. Your eyes fluttered open slowly, curiosity flickering within them as you lifted your hands to watch the shadows playfully run along your hands.

Azriel watched as the realization dawned on you. With a sudden burst of energy, you sprang up from the ground, your eyes lighting up with excitement as you looked up at him. Cassian's head snapped back in surprise, his own grin widening as he caught sight of his brother.

"Az!" you exclaimed with a big grin, a sheer joy evident in your voice that made his heart flutter.

His gaze swept over the coffee table next to you, noting the scattered papers, remnants of ash, and the loose mirthroot nuggets. He let out a laugh at the array of snacks messily spread amongst the herbs, crumbs from what he could only assume were some sort of baked goods— cookies, his shadows informed him. Chocolate chip. He met your eyes again with a grin.

"Hi, gorgeous," he greeted warmly.

With a gentle ease, he made a move to sit down next to you, his movements accompanied by the subtle sound of his knees cracking in response. He lowered himself to your rug, leaning his back against the couch as you scrambled to reposition yourself, your movements slow and uncoordinated. Somehow you managed to settle yourself between his legs, pressing against his chest as he wrapped his arms around you. You craned your head to look up at him.

Azriel's gaze softened as he looked at your face, illuminated by a wide grin that stretched across your lips. Your eyes were narrowed and slightly puffy, a faint blush painted on your cheeks. Still gorgeous, Az thought, always so gorgeous. A shadow brushed over your cheek, moving to push back a stray strand of your hair.

Cassian’s voice disrupted the moment in a small whine. "Hey, what about me?"

In unison, both you and Azriel moved your heads to look at him, watching as Cassian’s eyes floated between you two. Just like you, Cassian’s eyelids were puffy and half-lidded as he held your stares.

Azriel let out a small snicker. "Hey,” he said.

“What?” Cassian's expression shifted into a frown. "Am I not gorgeous?"

You gasped in mock horror, your body pushing up with the force of the sound. "You are so gorgeous!" you exclaimed earnestly.

Cassian seemed content at the answer, a small smile gracing his face. His gaze then shifted to Azriel, and you followed suit, both of you staring at him with eager eyes. The sight itself was more amusing than anything Az had seen recently, two of the most feared members of the Night Court staring at him like two curious animals.

Azriel flicked his eyes between the two of you, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. With a laugh-sigh, he looked at his brother. "You're so gorgeous," he affirmed, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

Cassian's gaze lingered on Azriel as he continued. "So gorgeous. If I didn't have her," he gestured towards you, then waved his hand casually, "Nesta would have competition, brother. I mean—"

"Ah, suck a fat one, Az,” Cassian grumbled, pouting to himself as he leaned against the coffee table. “Can't take anything seriously."

Azriel grinned at the response, pulling you closer to his chest as you laughed, the sound caressing him with a familiar warmth. His gaze was pulled up as Mor and Rhysand approached the rug, both wearing amused smiles on their lips.

"We run late and you decide to have all the fun by yourself?" Rhysand teased, raising the container in his hand.

"Actually," Cassian responded, his voice carrying a hint of excitement, "Y/n and I were discussing some strategies."

Rhysand's amusement only seemed to grow at the comment. "Strategies?"

Azriel felt your nod against him.

With a grin, Cassian leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "For, you know, Koschei," he added, emphasizing the last word with a mischievous sloppy wink. Mor snorted at the sight, a laugh falling from her lips.

Rhys glanced between Mor and Azriel. "And?"

Cassian's grin widened, "And we solved it."

Rhysand's gaze returned to Azriel, whose eyebrows lifted in surprise, the corners of his lips turned upwards. "You did?"

Cassian leaned back, with a confident nod. "Ohhh yeah. Tell 'em, Y/n," he prompted eagerly.

You shifted into a new position, leaning sideways against Azriel, as you moved your gaze between all of them. Even the movement of your head was slow, sluggish, and Azriel wondered just how well you were able to see all of them considering how closed your eyes were.

"Koschei is confined to the lake, right?"

The room went quiet as you continued to move your gaze between your family, silence falling upon the group as they waited for you to continue. When a beat passed, Azriel met your gaze, understanding dawning in his eyes as he realized you were seeking confirmation. "Right, yes," he responded with a nod, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as you grinned at him.

"So,” you paused, the grin spreading across your face, "what if," you continued, your voice tinged with excitement, “we just drain the lake?"

You and Cassian exchanged a look.

“What’s he gonna go without a lake?” Cass emphasized, “Nothing.”

“Exactly. And we get free water. We could make a pool.”

Finishing your sentence with a sound of content, you looked between everyone in the room. Cassian nodded enthusiastically, as if your combined strategy was the strongest plan he’d come up with in centuries. And he was really excited about that damn pool.

There was a sleek silence as your words were processed.

And then Mor’s reaction came first.

"Oh my Gods," she exclaimed, laughter bubbling up as she covered her mouth in amusement.

Rhysand and Azriel exchanged a knowing glance before Rhysand let out a bellowing laugh, the sound echoing across the room as he ran his hand down his face.

"That is," he managed to say between laughs, “The best thing I’ve ever heard.”

Azriel looked down at you with a smile that threatened to split his cheeks, small chuckles reverberating through his chest.

You stared up at him, leaning your head closer to his. "Right?" you chimed in eagerly, seeking validation for your idea. “Right?’

He nodded, unable to resist leaning down to kiss your forehead tenderly. "Genius plan, my love," he praised softly.

"I know," you replied with a satisfied grin.

With another laugh, Mor walked to her cousin and grabbed the small container from his hand, eliciting a small eyebrow raise in response.

"For old times' sake," she declared with a grin. With a small groan, she settled down next to Cassian, nudging him to make room. She looked over her shoulder, "Maybe we can brainstorm how it was possible for you to accidentally send a love letter meant for Feyre to Cassian.”

Rhysand’s mouth dropped as he let out a small scoff.

"That happened once!"

“Wait,” Cassian frowned. "That wasn’t for me?"

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

i wrote this while on mirthroot *cough cough* so ignore any typos

p.s i want to make an entire mirthroot series with fun one-shots just cause i luv the idea of the IC just getting time to relax and do silly goofy stuff like recreational drugs (i’m also a stoner so this is my territory 🙏🏻). should i? yes no maybe so (3/9 update: it has been created!! Read the Mirthroot Mini-Series

1K notes · View notes

milswrites · 17 days

Text

Happy Ending

Based on this request

Pairing: Azriel X Fem!Reader

Summary: Azriel's brothers remind him that he deserves happiness too.

Warnings: An equal amount of fluff and angst.

Word count: 2.9k

Notes: I wrote this while in a massive slump so I’m scared to post this lol. Consider this my advanced apology in case this isn’t very good.

Azriel was spellbound; the male finding himself unable to do anything but bask in the majesty of your ethereal form. Admiration pooling in the shadowsinger's eyes as he absorbed the enchanting glow of your sun-kissed skin.

He watched you.

Mouth parting in awe as his hazel eyes lingered over your soft figure as you rose from the picnic blanket. Your beauty likening that of the Mother herself as the radiant light of the afternoon sun encircled the crown of your head like a lucent halo.

He watched you.

His usually stoic lips upturned into a gentle smile as a giggling Nyx ran into your waiting arms. Heart fluttering uncontrollably as he watched the young boy place a loving kiss onto your cheek before you reciprocated the gesture with a beaming grin.

He watched you.

Because if he didn't, then he was sure to wake; with you only the object of his wildest dreams.

~~~

"You're staring again," Cassian chimed, a wicked smirk crossing his face as he propped himself up from the blanket he was laying on in order to face a flustered Azriel, "It's starting to get a little creepy."

"I am not staring!" Azriel hissed through clenched teeth. And yet, despite having been called out for it by his brother, Azriel's eyes failed to leave your glowing form as you walked away from where the males were sat to head towards the river's edge alongside Feyre and Nesta.

"Did you know your wings twitch when you're lying brother?" Cassian teased, chuckling as he ducked his head in order to dodge the cushion a disgruntled Azriel had thrown his way. The shadowsinger managing to tear his eyes from you for long enough to send a menacing glare in his brother's direction.

"I mean, can you really blame her for not acknowledging you, Az?" Rhysand asked with a snigger, violet eyes dancing with mirth as he playfully nudged Azriel's shoulder with his own, "it's not your fault that the heir of the Night Court is just as charming as his father."

Unimpressed by Rhysand's egocentric comment, Azriel and Cassian shifted their gaze from where the group of females were playing with Nyx down by the river to look towards each other. Their apathetic brows raising in union before the two males proceeded to launch their cushions at Rhysand's face.

Scoffing at the shrill cry which followed, Azriel shook his head as he turned his attention back to you. The ghost of a smile working its way onto the shadowsinger's lips as he watched you hold on to Nyx's hands in order to steady the child as he paddled in the shallows. His heart swelling at the dulcet sound of your cheery laughter as the squealing boy playfully splashed the flowing water towards you.

Unfortunately Azriel's watchful admiration didn't last for long, Cassian's tentative voice once more breaking the silence of an otherwise peaceful afternoon, "Az ?. . ."

"Don't push me Cass," Azriel warned, eyes rolling as they briefly flickered towards the general in disapproval, "or cauldron help me, that stone Nyx is throwing won't be the only thing sinking to the bottom of the river."

"Oh sure, my lips are sealed," Cassian shrugged dismissively as he moved to lay back down, voice laced with amusement as he offhandedly added, "I won't even mention the fact that your shadows have taken a little trip down to the river to visit a certain someone."

Azriel's attention snapped back towards the body of water where - just as Cassian had noted - two rogue shadows had taken it upon themselves to curl around not only the tiny heir, but also you. The shadowsinger's heart sinking to his stomach as his wide eyes took in the disobedient shadow which had lovingly snaked its way around the curve of your waist.

A sputtering Azriel worked to tug the insubordinate shadow away from you, cursing as it refused to budge from where it was comfortably resting. The smoky tendril seeming to have a mind of its own as it stubbornly ignored its master's fretful call.

This movement didn't go unnoticed by you. Your curious gaze dropping to the shadow which was tenderly embracing your waist, a soft smile gracing your lips as you lifted your bright eyes to meet Azriel's own panicked ones. The bashful male blushing a deep shade of red as you cheerfully waved in his direction.

Azriel sheepishly waved back, a crooked smile stretching across his reddened face as he nervously uttered under his breath, "Cauldron boil me."

"I don't get it," Rhysand started, brows knitting together in confusion as he observed Azriel's failed efforts of trying to reign in his unruly shadows, "you obviously like her, and it's clear your shadows do too . . . So why haven't you done anything?"

"It's never come up," Azriel justified with a shrug, clearing his throat in a poor attempt of acting casual, "we're both busy people, sometimes it's just easier to stay friends."

Cassian snorted at Azriel's words, lips curling into a devilish grin as he chided his brother, "Liar. Your wings are twitching again."

Azriel rolled his eyes, wings curling in defense as he reasoned, "Look I don't even know if she's interested in -"

"Bullshit" Rhysand interjected, scoffing at the inaccuracy of Azriel's traitorous thoughts.

"Rhys-"

"Az, she is totally in love with you."

"But how do you even-"

"Azriel!" Rhysand exclaimed, resting a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder in order to ground him, "only a fool would look at the way she looks at you and think that she doesn't feel the same."

A shaky breath rattled in Azriel's chest, his dejected hazel eyes looking up to meet the violet irises of his brother's concerned stare, "It doesn't matter. Even if she does like me . . . I'm not good enough for her."

"Not good enough?" Cassian questioned with an uncertain laugh, pulling Azriel's attention from Rhysand to himself, "Az, you're a six-foot-four Illyrian with immense power and an - admittedly - impressive wingspan. I think it's safe to say that you're good enough for anyone."

Azriel released a sad laugh at Cassian's misunderstanding, the shadowsinger taking a moment to close his eyes and inhale deeply before speaking, "Thanks Cass, but that's not what I meant. I just . . . I think she deserves someone who is worthy of her love."

"You think you're unworthy?" Cassian asked in surprise, while, in the same breath, Rhysand reassured, "But you are worthy, Az."

"No," Azriel disagreed with a low shake of his head, his sorrowful eyes returning to where you were wading through the water with Nyx safely held between your arms, "she's everything good about the world and I won't ruin that - I can't . . . Sometimes perfect things are better left untouched."

"Az, why would you even think like that?" Cassian pressed in disbelief, hurt crossing his features as he listened to the shadowsinger's deprecating words.

Azriel's brows pulled together in shame, expression forlorn as he began to explain, "The things I've done? . . . The things I'm capable of doing? She doesn't need to be exposed to that life. Cass, she deserves better than me."

Rhysand guffawed at Azriel's remark, his head thrown back in glee as he clutched at his chest. Even Cassian found humor in the situation, the male hiding his deep chuckle behind a half-hearted cough, wiping faux tears from his eyes as the High Lord stated, "That Az, is the stupidest thing I have ever heard."

"I'm glad you guys find my insecurities amusing."

"We hear you Az - really, we do," Rhysand consoled his brother, the male's laughter simmering into a supportive smile as he rested a comforting hand on Azriel's knee, "I mean, you don't really think that it was easy for us did you?"

His words peaked Azriel's interest, the shadowsinger's pained expression morphing into one of surprised curiosity as he quirked a questioning brow at his brother, "Really? But I thought-"

"Come on Az, be serious. Do you think a day goes by where I truly believe I'm worthy of Feyre?" Rhysand asks, his wistful gaze moving down to the river where a beaming Feyre was teaching an excitable Nyx how to skip stones, "But that doesn't stop me from working my damn ass off every day to try and be the mate that she deserves."

"Yeah, just look at Nesta and I. We're far from perfect," Cassian commented, tears of joy lining the general's eyes upon seeing Nesta's glowing smile as she cheered their nephew on from the river's bank, "we fight like animals half of the time, admittedly it's mostly down to me saying things that I don't mean to say . . ."

As if sensing her mate's loving stare, Nesta's eyes moved to meet his own. The female sending a playful wink Cassian's way, earning a soft chuckle from the male, "but she always makes sure to tell me when I'm out of line, just as she expects me to do the same for her."

Azriel nodded in understanding, the self-placed shame he had once felt due to his lack of self-worth was now directed towards the fact he had never known what obstacles his brother's have had to overcome on their quest for happiness. Guilt swimming in the shadowsinger's eyes as he confessed, "I never knew you guys felt the same way."

Cassian smiled fondly at his brother, a strong arm moving to wrap around Azriel's shoulders as he gave the male a comforting squeeze, "Relationships aren't about one person being more deserving than the other Az, they're about balance . . . They're about loving someone so deeply that you want to make yourself a better person for them."

"You'll get there" Rhysand promised, his confident gaze working to uplift Azriel's spirit, "you just have to believe that you deserve happiness too."

"That sounds easier said than done" Azriel remarked flatly. And yet, despite his words, the shadowsinger was unable to hide the way in which his lips had started to twitch into a hopeful smile.

"It's not when you've found the person worth taking the risk for," Rhysand answered, his eyes shimmering with sincerity as he gestured towards you with his head, "And I think you've already got that bit covered."

A light blush dusted Azriel's cheeks, a timid laugh slipping from the male's lips as his adoring gaze turned back to you, "She is pretty great isn't she?"

"Pretty great?" Cassian asked with a snort, a teasing grin working its way onto the general's face, "Az if you don't ask her out soon, Nesta and I would be more than willing to steal her from you."

Azriel scowled at his brother, eyes narrowing as he opened his mouth to spit back a retort. Yet you beat him to it, the shadowsinger's words catching on the tip of his tongue as your soft voice called out to the group of males, "Are you guys just going to sit there gossiping all afternoon or are you going to come and join us?"

Cassian readily jumped to his feet, the male wasting no time in eagerly setting off in your direction. Lips pulled into a scheming smirk as he yelled back to you, "Be right over sunshi-"

Unable to finish his sentence, a strangled yelp fell from Cassian's mouth. The male clumsily tumbling to the ground as a rogue shadow slipped away from the general's ankle unnoticed. Azriel chuckling merrily as he passed the downed male with a grin, "Graceful as always, Cass."

~~~

Azriel had never seen a siren before. But here, sat on the bank as he watched you elegantly glide through the river as though it was second nature, the male was certain that your beauty - even in the water- was unmatched.

And just when Azriel thought you couldn't get any more radiant, he found himself enraptured by your celestial grace. His hazel eyes drawn to the delicate droplets of water which glistened on your plush lips thanks to the sun's amber rays.

You were beautiful, there was no doubt about that. Rhysand had picked the most beautiful spot on the continent for your outing today, and yet even the breathtaking scenery of the lush surroundings paled in comparison to you.

"Hey Az?" your gentle voice drew the male from his stupor, the lovesick fog in his affectionate gaze clearing just enough for Azriel to see your expectant eyes looking up at him from where you were swaying in the water, "Are you going to come in?"

Azriel's eyes grew wide at your question, cheeks burning red as the male searched for a suitable answer, "Oh, uh . . . you want me to -?"

A low groan of frustration sounded next to Azriel, an exasperated Rhysand roughly pushing the shadowsinger to stand as he whispered with a hiss, "Az, just get in the damn water."

Shrinking under the anticipatory stares of his family, Azriel swiftly removed his boots before awkwardly shuffling towards the river's edge. Cautious, he dipped a tentative toe into the flowing water before pulling back with an alarmed cry, wings curling in shock at the frigid temperature of the river, "I don't know if I ca-"

"Oh for cauldron's sake" Cassian huffed behind Azriel, a heavy hand falling onto the male's shoulder before he shoved the shadowsinger in.

Azriel had no time to react, a panicked shriek slipping from his lips as he forcefully crashed into the freezing water. Limbs flailing uselessly as he worked to make his way towards the surface, the shadowsinger's control slipping as the current worked against his feeble actions.

Relief was delivered in the form of your tender touch, your gentle hands moving to support the male as he gathered his wits and acclimated to the - somewhat - soothing chill of the river. Azriel's eyes blinking open only for him to be greeted by your warming smile looking back at him.

"Hi" you whispered, softly giggling at Azriel's uneasy expression. Eyes shining with adoration as you gently moved to wrap your arms around Azriel's shoulders in order to steady the fumbling male, "thank you for joining me."

"Hi" Azriel replied breathlessly, his cheeks still burning with a heated blush despite the cooling nature of the water which surrounded him. Noticing your close proximity, the shadowsinger gulped nervously. The male helpless in resisting his shadows control as they worked to pull his slightly trembling hands to rest against the curve of your waist.

Azriel now safe within your hold, the two of you happily bobbed along with the current. All thoughts of your watchful friends long forgotten as you allowed yourselves to become lost within the moment. Azriel's heart beating wildly as your ardent gaze never failed to leave his flustered face.

And it was here, tenderly wrapped within your comforting embrace, that Azriel allowed himself to wonder if Rhysand had been right all along about your supposed affections. The shadowsinger realizing that perhaps he needn't have worried about whether you would be able to love him - because maybe you already did.

"Hey sunshine!" Cassian's startling shout broke the silence which had comfortably settled between the pair of you, the general's voice filled with mischief as he teasingly called, "Az has something he wanted to ask you!"

Stunned, Azriel blanched at his words. A string of expletives falling from the shadowsinger's lips as he turned his anxious gaze towards you. The unsteady beating of his heart thundered in his ears at the daunting sound of your encouraging hum.

"Uh . . . um, I just wanted to . . ." Azriel's apprehensive gaze shifted towards his brother who was waiting on the bank with his head hung into the palm of his hand, panic building in his chest as the male found himself lost for words, "I was just wondering if you wanted . . . uh-"

"Yes Azriel," you beamed, softly nodding along to Azriel's garbled speech, "The answer is yes. I would love to go on a date with you."

Wasting no time, you sealed your lips against his own. Using the arms you had tightly wrapped around his shoulders to pull the flustered male closer towards you. Smiling into the kiss as Azriel's lips began to tentatively move against your own.

The shadowsinger clutched onto you as though you were his lifeline, fingers firmly pressed into your waist as he held you flush against him - lips chasing after yours as though he would surely drown without your sweetened kiss.

Yet the kiss was only fleeting, you having pulled away at the sound of your friend's ecstatic cheers. Azriel released a laugh of disbelief as you moved to rest your forehead against his own, your eyes bright and full of love as you breathlessly whispered, "Finally. I was wondering how long it would take you to ask me that."

"What?" Azriel asked in astonishment, his swollen lips parting in surprise, "You've been waiting for . . . me?"

"You're beautiful, Az" you exclaimed as though it was obvious, a soft gasp escaping from the male's lips at your words, "So unbelievably beautiful."

"But I- I'm . . ."

You hushed the male with a swift peck to his lips, "Just kiss me again, Az."

"With pleasure" Azriel answered with a smile, bringing his lips to meet your own.

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #azriel oneshot #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel

814 notes · View notes

thisblogisaboutabook · 3 months

Text

Rainy Season

Azriel x Reader

An angsty little one shot. Azriel’s mate is tired of being at the bottom of his list of priorities.

Update: Due to popular demand, this is being made into a series!

Part 2

The air’s getting heavy and we both know why

There was a time when an evening like this brought solace to my weary soul.

Azriel’s hand wrapped around my waist, caressing my stomach, pressing soft kisses to the juncture of my neck and shoulder. His hair tickling against my sensitive skin as we hid under blankets absorbing the incessant melody of drip, drop, drip, drop and the echoing pitter patter of rain drops hitting the roof. His warmth seeping right through to the coldest depths of my soul.

I’d turn around, pressing my bare breasts against his muscled chest. Our breath hitching as his sunburst eyes of brown, amber, and gold bore into mine, his soft lips whispering promises of forever.

Say that this storm is just passing through

But Azriel wasn’t here. He hadn’t been for 6 days, 23 hours, and 50 minutes now. It would have been laughable, comparing the past to now, if it weren’t so damned sad. In the beginning there’d been long, doting love notes with risqué quips regarding his intentions upon coming home, little gifts that he couldn’t resist bringing back from his travels, and the stolen hours where he’d sneak in a visit during the intermittent downtime on his missions. As a realist, I knew that it was not sustainable long-term but relished in it as the gift it was. Newly formed, passionate love that exceeded anything I had ever imagined upon finding my cauldron-blessed mate.

As the years went on I understood when the love notes became briefs and the thoughtful gifts became pecks on the cheek as he hurried through the door to exchange his leathers for clean ones, wipe down his weapons, and rest before his next mission. But time went on, as is inevitable, and distant were the memories of stolen moments away from missions, the desperate caress of his hands roaming my body as if he couldn’t quite believe I was fully corporeal before him - needing to touch me to reassure him that this was real. Now the touches were detached, perfunctory, another task on his never-ending to-do list.

Drop after drop we’re destroying this house and eachother.

The boiling point had been simmering for a while, left on the fire with reassurances of “Things are just busy right now”, “It’ll slow down soon”, “I would stay if I could, love. You know I would. I have no choice.”

But we both knew all too well that there was always a choice. There were times when Rhys let it slip that Azriel had volunteered for missions that his other spies were perfectly suited for, times when all I wanted in the world was to be curled up and listening to the rain with my mate.

Missions became tasks with the Valkyries, “chaperoning” Cassian and Nesta, and emotionally supporting the lovely doe-eyed fawn - Elain - who was the delicate cherry blossom of spring opposite of my wild summertime storm.

It wasn’t her fault. The trauma inflicted upon her, the loss of autonomy that came with being thrown into the cauldron and having her mortality stripped away without her say. The powers she never asked for overwhelming her senses. Hell, maybe it wasn’t Azriel’s fault for responding to the traumas of his past and the need to overcompensate for every ounce of blood he’s drawn by saving anything and everything that needed rescuing.

The problem lay with the fact that where Elain is a “seer”, my ability to “sense” when things are amiss was strong and Azriel’s intentions with her were becoming blurred. Feelings of lust had become more frequent down the bond along with flutters of joy and adoration. When it began I thought maybe things would look up in our relationship - he was missing me, fisting his cock to fantasies of taking me over and over when he returned home - but he only became more distant. He’d return more often than not smelling of jasmine and honey. The strength of the scent coating him correlating with the increase in enamored feelings slipping through the bond.

Six days ago when I’d asked him to skip out on training with Cassian and Nesta and whatever it was he and Elain would do - that was when the thunder clapped and the sky opened. “I can’t just stay home and cater to you all the time. I have duties to this court. Why can’t you find a hobby to occupy your time? Nesta reads and trains with the Valkyries, Feyre paints, Elain gardens and she evens bakes! Why can’t you be more like-“

He caught himself too late, immediately reaching out to place a gentle hand on my shoulder and apologize but it was too late for that.

Please, make it stop

It wasn’t that I wasn’t a forgiving or understanding person. i appreciated his dedication to his court and family and those in need but…

“Why can’t I be more like what? You can stop mid-sentence but you already said it all.” I looked down, shaking my head as silver lined my eyes. Gods, I hate that I’m an angry crier. “You want to know why I can’t be more like Elain in your eyes, Azriel? Because I exist in your fucking blind spot! I have been helping Feyre AT the studio, volunteering at a food pantry in Velaris, and teaching self-defense classes to women and children at the park but you wouldn’t know because you never ask me what I’ve been up to while you’re gone.”

He started to speak but I wasn’t finished. “The reason I cannot be more like Elain, or Feyre, or Nesta is because I’m none of them. I am ME. And you know what? I like me. I don’t want to be anybody else.” Trying and failing miserably to hold my head high I pathetically fell to my knees, shuddering as tears of rage flowed freely.

Warmth enveloped me as Azriel knelt down to soothe my quaking form. I let him if only because I didn’t have the composure to tell him otherwise as he began pressing kisses to my forehead. “I’m so sorry. I have been a terrible mate. I love all that you are- I- I’ll stop with Elain. She’s doing much better and Nuala and Cerridwen can keep an eye on her, so can Rhys and Cassian, and her sisters. It will be okay.”

That consolation attempt only drove the blade of bitterness deeper into my heart. Elain had so many in her corner and who did I have anymore? My chronically absent mate? The family I left behind to move to Velaris with Azriel? There was nobody close by.

“I think you should leave.” I sobbed out.

Azriel ignored the shaky command, continuing to hold me. Fuck - is this what it took for him to notice me? Breaking my heart so he could stitch it back up again?

“Azriel.” I stated firmly.

He met my eyes.

“You should leave.”

His look grew puzzled. “I thought you wanted me to stay - to spend time together? Please, Y/N. Let me make this better.”

“I need space. Give me one week.”

“But-“

“One. Week.”

Azriel’s shoulders slumped, head hanging low for several minutes before realizing that my decision was firm.

“I love you.” He said before heading out the door.

——————

Like clockwork as 7 days, 0 hours, and 1 minute were up, the front door to our home opened and Azriel’s footsteps padded in behind me, my gaze remaining fixated on the rain falling outside the window. A lump formed in my throat as I avoided turning to meet his gaze.

So dance one more dance and tell one more lie.

Azriel stepped around me, wordlessly extending a hand, patiently waiting as I avoided his gaze a moment longer before taking it. His shadows began humming faintly, increasing their melody and reaching a crescendo as Azriel began dancing with me through the room.

Say that you love me even if it’s not true

I let myself melt into the warmth of his chest. The thick air remained heavy upon my soul but I could have this. I could let myself enjoy this moment.

We wordlessly danced through the room in the soft glow of the fae lights.

We made our way through the hall into our shared bed that had become so neglected.

“I love you, Y/N.” he murmured as he laid me down, stripped bare underneath him.

“I love you too, Azriel.”

——————

Wish I could just say it and words were enough to keep you from being the one giving up.

The middle of the night left me restless as he lay soundly asleep beside me. My senses tugged me toward his bag that he’d discarded at the entryway. I brought out his dirty clothes from the week only to be greeted with the fresh scent of jasmine and honey.

Like the sky letting go for no reason

I packed my essentials and voyaged out into the pouring rain. Its patter on my skin washing away the salty tears streaming down my face. Following my senses to where the love was true back to my Summer Court home, my family. As free as a summer storm.

It's just the rainy season.

—————————————

A/n - I know there are plenty of Azriel x Reader and Elain fics out there. It was rainy and dreary here yesterday and this song was in my head for the first time in like 10 years so…. I wrote this.

#sarah j maas #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x elain #elain archeron #rainy season #inspired by Hunter Hayes #inspired by a song #azriel angst #angst #azriel one shot #acotar oneshot

1K notes · View notes

acourtofwhatthefuck · 6 months

Text

Goddess — Cassian x Plus-size!Reader

Summary: Just Cass worshiping his gorgeous, gorgeous mate.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Pretty much pwp. Adult Content, 18+, minors dni. 🫶🏻

You can hear him, scent him, from down the hall.

He approaches your shared bedroom with firm, purposed footsteps. His shoes slam against the wooden floor with every great stride he takes. He’s not graceful like some males are. There’s a raw ruggedness to every movement; the swirling storm of somebody who will never be light nor lithe on their feet. But the charged, almost frantic energy with which he does everything is, undeniably, one of your favourite things about him.

The door bursts open, and Cassian enters.

He’s flushed and sweaty like he always is after training, strands of hair hanging down from where they’ve ripped free from the knot at the nape of his neck. He brushes them back with a large, callused hand, and takes in the sight of you sprawled on your bed, an open book perched on your lap.

He’s always a little wild and frenetic, an animal that can’t be tamed, but this morning — this morning, it seems…extreme. A fire burns in his hazel eyes, and he licks his lips and rolls his shoulders as though there’s too much tension in them.

“How was training?” You ask casually, thumbing through your book.

“Fuck training.” Is all Cassian offers, and then he’s clambering onto the bed and folding his body over yours. “C’mere.”

He dips his head, clearly intent on capturing you in a kiss. But before it can land, your palm is in his face, pushing him away.

“Take your shoes off before you get on the bed, Cass.” You complain. “You’re all sweaty, too.”

A wicked grin tugs his lips up. He kicks his shoes off without sparing them a glance, and then he’s prowling back towards you. “You love it.”

Before you can respond, his mouth is slanting over yours in a deep kiss. His tongue immediately probes your mouth, and a deep groan rumbles in his chest.

“I couldn’t concentrate.” He huffs onto your mouth, hands moving up to your breasts. He gives a gentle squeeze. “I kept thinking about these.”

Immediately, your back arches into the touch. You tug your mouth off of his and cup his face, forcing him to look at you. “I’m not sure that’s part of the regime.”

“No it absolutely is not. But it still didn’t stop me thinking of them. Of everything I had waiting for me back here. This,” he moves down, pressing a kiss to the soft, pudgy flesh of your belly, “Mother above, I love this. And these,” his palms slip under your thighs, “I could spend all fucking day kissing these.”

He loves your thighs — has a real fascination with them. He loves touching them, stroking them, kissing them. Loves slotting himself between them. And fuck, he loves — is obsessed, even — with watching the way they rub together through your breeches while you walk. The way fabric hugs them and outlines their shape. The silvery stretch marks that create patterns in your skin and — rather conveniently — draw a path that snake up right to the creases between your legs. Yeah — he really, really loves those.

“I can’t imagine Azriel was all too impressed with your distraction.” You smile down at your mate, raking your fingers through his hair.

He growls softly, gently nips the flesh of one thigh, exposed beneath the shirt that you shucked on to lounge in — Cassian’s shirt. “I don’t want to hear another male’s name on those pretty lips right now.” He murmurs. “Only mine.”

“Jealous, jealous male.”

“Always.” His fingers are finding their way under the shirt, and he’s tugging it up, exposing more of you as you allow him to peel it from your skin. He chucks it behind him without giving it another thought, and then his eyes are devouring you.

Naked, now, except for your undergarments, Cassian can see everything from your full breasts to your soft tummy to your chubby thighs, and every dip, swell and crevice in between.

It’s taken you a while to make peace with the fact that you do not have the figure of the other females in Rhysand’s Inner Circle — and to realise that that is in no way a bad thing. That having a different body to them doesn’t mean having a lesser body than them. That yours is just as beautiful as theirs are — in a different way.

And having Cassian, the brilliant Illyrian general, worship you from head to toe every. single. day, most certainly helps.

Such heat flares in his gaze, now, as he drinks you in, that it’s almost too much to watch.

“You’re unreal,” he pants, despite no real exertion — yet. “I am so not worthy of you.”

“You’re more than worthy—”

“You’re a goddess. An actual fucking goddess.”

His mouth meets yours again, but it isn’t staying there long. He slots himself between those thighs he loves so much, his fingers biting into the generous flesh as he kisses his way along your jaw and down your neck, over your chest, down to the swells of your breasts. His tongue immediately flicks over one of your nipples, and you sigh at the sensation.

“I’ve never needed anyone or anything like I need you.” His mouth closes over your breast, a harsh suck puckering the flesh. “All,” he moves to the other breast, “the damn,” another suck, “time.”

“Cass,” you breathe, pleasure rolling down your spine. You need…something, anything — him.

“On it, sweetheart.” He says, and his kisses continue downwards.

They pepper your stomach, your hips, your pelvis. And his hands roam your body as they do, grasping at anywhere he can touch. He’s utterly obsessed with you, and he groans and ruts against the bed as he inhales slowly, breathes in your scent.

“You ready for me?” He grazes his teeth against your hip, dipping his fingers just past the waistband of your underwear. “My filthy mate. I can smell how ready you are.”

“Yes,” you sink back into the pillows, “please, Cass.”

“You never have to ask twice.”

He’s yanking your underwear down, and the stronger your scent becomes, the less he’s able to tamp down on those carnal noises that sound almost like animalistic snarls. He kisses one thigh, the other, and then tugs your legs apart with a hiss through his teeth.

“This is what I was thinking about during training.” He eyes your sex hungrily. “Getting between these incredible thighs. I couldn’t stop myself, and everyone knew it.”

“So get between them, General.” You drag a hand down your body, stopping between your legs. Your fingers mop up the wetness gathered there, swirling around your clit. The action dangles in front of Cassian like a toy. “Look how wet I am for you.”

The poor male is damn near salivating, his eyes almost rolling into the back of his head. He growls, moving your hand out of the way, and he can no longer stop himself from lowering his head to that sweet, dripping pussy he’s spent all morning fantasising about.

He licks right up the centre of you, tongue diving between your folds. At the first lick, you give over to the pleasure, the moans, pressing your hand to the back of Cassian’s head.

“Taste so good, my girl,” his tongue flicks your clit, “all this for me?”

“All of it, Cass. Always.”

“Yeah? You going to come for me?”

“Yes.” A moan escapes you as you tug at the strands of his hair. “Gods, yes.”

“That’s my girl.”

Your head falls back as he simultaneously sucks at your clit and flicks it with his tongue, and you feel fingers sinking between your folds. The sensations Cassian manages to wring from you never lessen in their impact. There’s something about having this brilliant male kneel between your legs and paint you with stunning pleasure. He calls you a goddess, and he treats you like one.

“Fuck,” you breathe, canting your hips up in time with the strokes of his tongue. “Cass…I want you inside me.”

“I want you to come for me first.” Without warning, he pushes a finger into you, and you moan. “You can do that for me, can’t you?”

“Gods—yes,” you’re rocking against his hand, gasping as he adds a second finger. His lips smile against you.

“Go ahead — fuck my fingers and take what you need. Come for me, my girl.”

The two of you work together, him thrusting his fingers and continuing the strokes at your clit, and you taking it all so, so well. And you can tell he loves every moment of your pleasure — the way it builds up in your bones, your veins, and readies itself to implode.

And then your mate curls his fingers deep inside you, and it does exactly that. Release bursts through you at an unstoppable force. The impact of it surges to every corner of your body and has you shaking, gasping, screaming.

Cassian moans as if the climax is his own. He drinks and drinks and drinks, not letting a drop of you go to waste. He takes the clenching of your walls around his fingers and the harsh tugs of his hair. Takes it all, happily.

You’re not sure how long your head is spinning for, but you’re eventually coming down, just in time to see Cassian press a kiss to your belly. You tug his hair again and breathe, “Want you, Cass.”

“My beautiful,” he kisses your belly again, “beautiful mate.” As he pulls back, his hands drag down your thighs. “My goddess.”

He jumps up from the bed, and never have you seen him rid himself of clothes so quickly. Clothed, Cassian is stunning. Naked, he’s breathtaking.

Your eyes study him in utter awe, and you wonder — not for the first time — what you did so right in a previous life to have Cassian as your mate in this one. Every inch of him is firm and honed. Tan skin nicked with scars; bold, beautiful wings; rippling muscles and sharp edges. And his cock—

His cock has you swallowing.

It stands to attention, hard and proud and leaking at the head. Cassian wraps his hand around it and pumps a few times, his eyes still intensely on you. He grits his teeth.

“When you look at me like that,” he says, “you make me feel like a god.”

“You are.” Your chest rises and falls heavily. And you mean it — to you, he is. A god and goddess together.

Stark heat crosses his face, and he jerks his chin in signal. “Come here. I want you on top.”

He’s told you time and time again that having you on top of him is like having his prayers answered. Feeling you rocking on him, riding him, your thighs at his sides…a feeling like nothing else in the world. And you’re more than happy to oblige.

So you’re swapping positions. He’s sprawling back on the bed, wings beneath him, and you hover above him. You’re eager to feel him inside you, but you stop short at the weighty gaze that follows your every move.

You do not balk from it, though. This confidence is a stark difference from the early days of yours and Cassian’s sex life, when you’d do everything to avoid him staring at you for too long, when you’d insist on fucking in the dark. Cassian watches you approach like you’re the last meal he’ll ever get to have. He looks…lost for words.

You reach down, cupping his face between your palms. “You’ll give me an ego.”

“You should have an ego.” He turns his head, kissing your hand. “Fuck me, you’re exquisite.”

With a smile, you’re dipping down and slanting your mouth over his. And as Cassian kisses you back, he takes your hands, gently, slowly pulling you down, until you’re straddling him.

“Did you think about this during training, too?” Your voice shakes as the head of his cock brushes your entrance. “Being inside me? Having me ride you?”

Cassian kisses you so deeply, it leaves you breathless. A loud, wet kiss with his lips moulded to yours, his tongue and your tongue dancing. He pulls away only to tell you, “I think about being inside you, and having you ride me, all the fucking time.”

You smile, reaching behind you to palm at his cock. And a soft groan breaks from him as you pump his length gently. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, moving his hand down to grab your thighs.

“Put me inside you,” he shudders, his callused thumbs sweeping your skin. “Need to feel your cunt around me.”

You can’t wait any longer, either. You steady his cock at the base, and the second it’s brushing through your soaked folds, you’re both moaning.

And even louder, still, as you sink so, so slowly onto him.

The more his cock slides into you, the harder Cassian grips onto your thighs. He grits his teeth, watching closely as you pause, allow yourself to adjust to his size, and sink down to the hilt.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” His hands smooth upwards, skating over your hips and round to grab at your generous ass. He squeezes, and then he’s lifting you, and you’re moving on his cock.

You could do this forever — have his long, thick length sliding in and out of you. In seconds, you’re slick enough, drenching him enough, to bounce on his length. You roll your hips, bracing your hands on the headboard and throwing your head back at the pleasure that skitters through you. Cassian leans down, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth.

“So full,” you whine, grinding against him faster.

“Yeah?” He breathes. “My cock fills you up nice and good, doesn’t it? I know exactly what this pretty cunt needs.” He lifts you up by your ass, growling, “You want it hard, my goddess?”

“Fuck, Cass, yes.”

“You gonna scream for me? Make sure those lot training on the roof know that I rushed away to fuck my mate like she needed me to?”

“Yes—gods.”

“Scream for me, then.” He grips you hard, and he gives you no choice but to scream.

He slams up into you, again and again, the angle so desperate and deep that your control utterly slips. You can’t pull it back. You can’t grab the upper hand and pin him down to ride him — and you don’t want to. Not as he hits a spot so deep inside you that another climax knocks the breath out of you, and you’re screaming, moaning, clawing.

A deep, smug chuckle breaks through the haze of your orgasm, but Cassian doesn’t falter once. His brow furrows more and more with every thrust. He’s holding you closer to him, burying his face into your neck, and you know he’s not going to last much longer.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he curses, bracing himself, “how do you feel better and better every damn time?”

“Because I’m yours,” you pant, and Cass chokes on a groan, “and you are mine.”

“Always.” His mouth finds yours in a deep, unforgiving kiss, and he doesn’t pull away as his body begins to tremble beneath you, his thrusts faltering and becoming sloppy.

He slumps down, lying your body flush against his, and just like that, he’s on the home stretch.

“Give it to me, Cass,” you watch the pinched pleasure on his face, “I want you to spill inside me.”

Your mate throws his head back, a shout escaping him. His hips still as you feel the explosion of his orgasm deep inside you, painting your walls with his come. Spurt after spurt, it feels never ending, and Cassian groans gutturally through it all. He well and truly fills you up.

He stays inside you for a while after — while you catch your breaths. But when you’ve both calmed a little, he’s pulling back to meet your gaze, and a dazed laugh leaves him. “Fuck, that was good.” He breathes.

“Mmhm.” You smirk, leaning in to kiss him. “Better than your fantasising?”

“My fantasies can be pretty elaborate, but even this brain couldn’t conjure up anything as brilliant as you.” He kisses you back, his hand gently patting your ass. “My delicious little mate.”

You can only smile against his lips. And you’d be content to stay here all day, wrapped up in him, his mouth on yours. But you grin and snake your arms around his neck. “Cass?”

“Yes, my love?”

“You really need a bath.”

He jumps up without a word, your combined wetness spilling down those thighs he loves so much, as he carries you with him to the bathroom.

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

cassian tags: @brekkershadowsinger @wandas-dream @nightscourtt @luna-1-3-5 @ruler-of-hades @chocolatecakelargeshake @asemkta @lucyysthings @a-frog-with-a-laptop @iammichellekocwin @illyriansimp @azrielsbabyg @brookeduggann @toohardtoforgetcth @gmey11 @historianscalledusfriends @basicbittywitty @koemi-kimo @sadiebluewin @angelatinasstuff @eos-princess @theunforgivingsworld @lysjeonsworld @aaronwarnerswifereal @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @str4vvberry @lxnoluvr @moron-says-what @korol-lantsov @evabalexeeva @imaginethat16 @aoibhinnslater04 @kennedy-brooke @magnoliamermaid @winchestersister55 @carrxttcake @shannonsaid @ladylunavoodoo13 @glitterforashes @misslunatic1655 @basicbittywitty @bbycowboi @mel-wcst @amieinghigh @acourtofidiots @scooobies @grunchwench @glitterypirateduck @wallacewillow0773638 @jjlevin @siriuslyslyslytherin @supernatural99 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @loglady00 @bbycowboi @tastydewdrops @waywardcasbutt @justasillylittlegoofyguy @thereadefofsmut @padfootsvixen @donnadiddadog

#cassian #cassian acotar #cassian x reader #batboy x reader #batboy #cassian fic #cassian oneshot #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar x reader #acotar fandom #acotar writing #acotar fanfic #acotar headcanon #acotar smut #acotar series #smut #cassian smut #cassian x reader fic

1K notes · View notes

thewulf · 29 days

Text

The Quiet Between || Azriel

Summary: Request -Hiyaaa loved your Az story. So freaking good. I had one in mind and wonder if you could write it? Maybe some deep Azriel and reader angst? I'm picturing a scene where Azriel, drowning under his duties and secrets snaps harshly at the reader, our newest healer at the Night Court when she gently suggests he talks about what’s weighing on him. His words sting, making her doubt her role at the court... Read Rest Here

A/N: Whew this was challenging to write but I really love how it turned out! Please let me know how you like it below. And as always, keep sending in your requests!

Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (Dawn Court Reader)

Word Count: 6.2k +

TW: Mean Az, Harsh Words (soft ending!)

When Madja, the esteemed healer of the Night Court, realized the growing demands of her duties required an apprentice she petitioned the High Lord for permission to seek out a promising candidate. Her search led her to Dawn Court where your skills and unique approach to healing caught her attention. Impressed, as she often wasn’t, she offered you the chance to study under her. A chance to take over for her in a few hundred years. It was a proposition that both excited and terrified you. Normally you were more risk-averse but something within urged you not to let this opportunity slip by. Accepting the offer might be a decision you'd regret forever if declined.

Your arrival at the Night Court was a mix of awe and overwhelming pressure. You were acutely aware of the Court’s reputation with its warriors and schemers, and its dances of politics and power. Yet, as the years unfolded you found more than just acceptance. You found a place where you felt like you just might belong. Madja was an exacting teacher and under her guidance you thrived. Your skills became indispensable to the Night Court.

Mor, your favorite social butterfly, took it upon herself to integrate you into the Court's vibrant life. She invited you out with the girls to Rita's where the music and laughter helped weave you deeper into the fabric of Night Court society. Cassian with his easy grin and boundless energy offered to train you in physical defense. He said it was essential for everyone at the Court to know how to protect themselves. And even Rhysand himself showed you how to fortify your mental shields as a necessary skill amidst the intrigues that often played out around them.

Yet despite these warm inclusions, Azriel was the only one who kept a cautious distance. The shadowy spymaster was polite but reserved. He often watched you with a contemplative gaze that suggested he was trying to figure you out from a safe distance. His reluctance to engage was not overtly hostile but it was clear he held reservations. His own shadows clinging too tightly, perhaps, to allow another close. This delicate balance of respect and curiosity marked your interactions, or lack thereof, with the spymaster. You often caught glimpses of Azriel as his presence like a whisper in the vast halls of the Court. He was always just out of reach, both physically and emotionally. His aloofness didn't hinder your duties. But it did create a space of unanswered questions in your mind.

One cool evening in the Night Court the opportunity to bridge that distance between him presented itself unexpectedly. Azriel returned from a particularly grueling mission. His arrival unannounced except for the quiet clatter of his boots in the hallway of the healer's quarters. As he pushed open the door, the grimace etched across his face spoke volumes of the pain he was enduring, both visible and hidden beneath the surface.

You ushered him in, your professional demeanor in place yet your heart beating a tad faster with the realization that this was the closest you had ever been to him. His usually guarded expression was replaced with a rare, unguarded grimace of pain. It revealed a vulnerability he typically masked beneath layers of shadows and silence making you feel a touch uneasy.

"Let me help," you offered softly while guiding him to a seat where you could better assess his injuries. The proximity to him in this moment tending to his wound felt like an unspoken permission to finally address the silent questions that had lingered between you. It was an opening to understand the man who had so thoroughly perfected the art of being untouchable.

"Let's take a look at that," you murmur while taking his hand in yours. Your hands are steady and careful as you gently peel away the fabric near his wound. The cut isn't deep, but it's laced with poison, enough to have caused significant discomfort. “I’m sorry. This is going to sting.” You whispered as you rushed off to grab the needed supplies.

As you apply a soothing salve you notice Azriel's clenched jaw and the way his muscles tighten under your touch—not just from the sting of the wound. You've seen warriors in all states, and you recognize the signs of inner turmoil as clearly as physical injuries.

"Azriel," you start, your voice soft but firm, "even the strongest warriors can benefit from sharing their burdens. It doesn't make you weak to speak about what's weighing on your heart." You try and sound confident in your words, but it comes out as meek.

His reaction is immediate and sharp. It cut through the air like a freshly sharpened knife. Azriel's eyes snap up to meet your with a coldness in them that freezes you in place. "You think you have the right to offer me counsel?" he says with his voice low and biting. "You, who have barely seen a fraction of the darkness I have faced. Yet you presume to understand my duties, my sacrifices?"

You open your mouth to apologize. To clarify your intentions but he doesn't give you the chance. "No, don’t," he snaps. Cutting you off as your heart begins to sink. "Don’t patronize me with platitudes and naive compassion. You know nothing of the burdens I carry. Of the secrets that consume me. You see surface wounds and think to heal a soul scarred by centuries?" It was the most you had heard him speak and unfortunately for you those words made your heart nearly twist in two. Surely that wasn’t what you were trying to do.

Your eyes begin to burn. His words slicing through any defense you might have had. You look down instead focusing on the bandage. To hide the hurt that’s welling up, threatening to spill over. "I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—"

"Save your apologies," Azriel interrupts with a tone as harsh as a winter storm. "They mean nothing in the face of what I endure daily. You wish to help? Do so by not overstepping your bounds again." You drop his arm after finishing up removing the poison and sealing the cut. But he wasn’t done, no. You just wished he’d fly away instead of cutting you even deeper. You had no intention of offending him yet here he was, hurt by your very own words. You’d never truly felt like a helpless child in all your centuries until this very moment.

As he continues his words grow even colder, each one a deliberate stake right into your very own heart. "Understand this, healer. My life, my pains are not fodder for idle chatter or curious minds seeking to 'fix' what they perceive as broken. You cannot begin to comprehend the wars I fight within the shadows. Wars meant to protect you and everyone else here from horrors you should hope never to encounter." His words were final, offering you no chance at rebuttal. Not that you would have been able to find the words. Your mind was racing in horror about what had just transpired in your very own healing hall. You, the one who was meant to mend broken souls might’ve just torn his right back open.

He stands abruptly with his wound tended but the air around him colder than the stone walls of the court. His departure is swift, leaving a wake of silence so deep it echoes through the chamber. You're left alone with the sting of his rebuke more painful than any physical wound you've treated. His words replay in your mind as a harsh reminder of the chasm between his world of shadows and your desire to heal. Guilt begins to consume you as you replay the words that struck you so hardly in your mind.

The room feels overwhelmingly empty as you struggle to compose yourself. The impact of his dismissal weighing heavily on your heart. You realize that healing Azriel might be beyond your reach. Not for lack of skill, but because the wounds he carries are far deeper and more complex than you ever imagined. Perplexed and deeply hurt you find yourself grappling with a tumult of emotions. Confusion is the first to surface. You had approached the situation with genuine concern. Your offer to listen driven by the empathy that defines your role as a healer. His aggressive response, then, feels like an undeserved refusal. A dismissal not just of your words but of your very intent.

You replay the conversation in your mind, dissecting each exchange, each barbed word. His accusation that you, nestled in your world of herbs and healing, could never understand the scope of his darkness stings sharply. It's true though you realize. That the depths of his secrets are beyond your grasp. This acknowledgment doesn't ease the sting of rejection. If anything, it deepens the wound. You had not claimed to understand. You only wanted to listen. And yet, he had cut you off, leaving no room for reconciliation.

As the initial shock fades, a deeper, more persistent ache settles in. You're hurt. Undeniably so. Hurt by his insinuation that your attempts at comfort were trivial, naive even. Does he truly see you as just another court member? As just a healer? Naive to the true workings of his world? The thought is disheartening, and you feel a profound sense of isolation creeping in. A sense that perhaps you are out of your depth in this court of shadows and secrets. Perhaps your mother was right. You weren’t built for the Night Court. You had a wonderful, easy life in Dawn. She had even picked out a high-ranking husband for you that would’ve provided and kept you safe. Her nagging words pricked at the back of your mind as the last five years here almost fell all for nothing. Five years was no time in the world of fae, you knew this. You were still the new healer, but you had thought that maybe you were finally finding your footing here. But then again maybe you were wrong.

Yet, beyond the hurt and confusion there's also a glimmer of resolve. You're a healer, trained not only to mend wounds but to understand the people you treat. Azriel's outburst, though harsh, reveals more than his disdain. It highlights his immense burden. His profound isolation. Perhaps your approach was too direct. Too unguarded for someone so accustomed to concealing his emotions.

As you clean up the space a quiet resolution forms in your mind. You won't push him again, no, not without invitation. The sting of his words lingers, and you decide that perhaps the best way to handle this is to give him the space he seems to fiercely guard. He may have dismissed your concern today but it's clear that what he desires most is distance. Not the compassion you offered. In this moment of reflection, you recognize the complexity of healing. It’s not just about tending to visible wounds. It’s also about understanding when to step back. Recognizing that some scars are too deeply etched to be approached without consent. Azriel has his walls, high and fortified. And you, you decide, will no longer attempt to scale them. Instead, you resolve to avoid him, believing that distancing yourself is the kindest thing you can do for him right now.

This decision doesn't come easy. You're a healer, trained to offer solace and aid to those in pain. Yet, in this case, the healing you want to provide is not welcomed or perhaps even needed in the way you thought. You accept that sometimes healing means stepping back. It means allowing wounds to close in the solitude they were opened in. Maybe with time he will seek you out if ever he feels ready to lower his guard. Until then you'll focus on those who welcome your help carrying with you the lesson that sometimes the best way to care for someone is simply to let them be.

After the confrontation in the healing room the atmosphere at the Night Court seemed to shift becoming dense with an unspoken tension that hung heavily in the air. Azriel quickly became burdened by the discomfort of his own harshness. It wasn’t often but he felt an acute sting of regret. His words, sharper and colder than he had intended, replayed relentlessly in his mind. Each sentence an echo of a reminder of the pain he had inflicted on somebody so kind.

Late into the night he found himself wandering the quieter corridors of the court trying to clear his mind.. The stone beneath his feet was cold and unyielding much like the mask he wore so well. With each step he attempted to outpace his regret, but solitude brought no relief. The memory of the genuine shock and sadness in your eyes haunted him. A vivid image that refused to fade into the shadows where he so often retreated.

Why had he lashed out? Azriel questioned himself. His normally composed thoughts unraveling with unusual disorder. He knew the stress of his duties as the spymaster often left him on edge, a blade perpetually sharpened and ready. Yet, it was more than just the strain of his role. It was the fear of vulnerability. Of opening those darker parts of himself he fought so hard to control. Seeing your concern, so innocent and genuine, had somehow threatened the walls he had meticulously built around his emotions for centuries. He couldn’t become undone by your one simple question.

He hated himself for how he had responded to you. How his instinct to protect his inner turmoil had manifested as cruelty towards you. The more he thought about it the more he despised the part of himself that had become so adept at pushing others away, especially those who dared to care.

As Azriel continued his nocturnal wanderings the shadows around him seemed to whisper of solitude and sorrow. Yet, it was the sorrow in your eyes that lingered most prominently in his mind. He realized then that his actions might not only have hurt you but could also have damaged whatever budding respect or friendship could have grown between you. This thought tightened the already constricting band around his chest. He had messed up badly and he knew it. His shadows knew it.

Resolving to seek redemption, not just for his peace but to mend the fracture he had caused, Azriel decided he would apologize to you. He needed to explain to you. To make you understand that his outburst wasn’t a reflection of his feelings towards you but a misguided defense against his own insecurities.

His journey through the night didn’t erase his regrets, but it solidified his resolve. He would try to bridge the gap his words had created hoping that you would understand and perhaps forgive. In the quiet before dawn Azriel finally stopped walking, the decision firm in his mind. Tomorrow, he would face you again, not as the Night Court's daunting spymaster, but simply as Azriel… imperfect and remorseful.

As he moved silently past the gardens the moonlight cast a serene glow over the night-blooming flowers illuminating the path with a ghostly light. Drawn by the soft, muffled sounds of distress his shadows unconsciously steered him towards a secluded alcove hidden by tendrils of ivy and the long shadows of the towering trees. It was unmistakably you. His heart tightened as he approached. Driven by a mix of concern and a need to understand the impact of his earlier harshness.

There in the dim light, he found you seated on a small bench. You were not alone, but with one of the younger assistants from the healer's quarters he had recognized. The assistant, whom you often mentored, sat beside you with a hand on your shoulder. Her presence meant to support you as you struggled with a flood of emotions.

"I don’t know any more Helena. Maybe I just don't belong here," you whispered between sobs. Your voice shaky with uncertainty. Tears streamed down your cheeks unrestrained after holding them back for so long. Azriel's words had not just stung. They had acted as a dam break, releasing all the pent-up doubts and fears you had about your place in this illustrious court. "I keep thinking maybe I should just go back to Dawn. My very own mother always said I was chasing a fantasy coming here. Maybe she's right. Maybe a quieter life away from all this would be better for me. Maybe I’m not cut out for the Night Court."

The young assistant, Helena, looked up to you not only for your healing skills but also for your kindness and leadership. She listened intently. Her expression one of deep empathy and concern. "You can't think that way," she responded softly. Her voice earnest. "Everyone here, especially Madja, respects you so much. Cassian, Mor, even Rhysand—they all see how much you bring to our home. It's not just you’re healing. It's your spirit. You're meant to be here with us. Please don’t think like that. I’ve learned more than I ever thought possible from you. We need you here."

Her comforting words were meant to bolster your spirits, but the reassurance felt hollow against the backdrop of your raw emotions. Despite her encouraging tone, the doubts seeded by Azriel's harsh outburst lingered. They tainted your thoughts with shadows of uncertainty about your place in this world you had grown to love yet still sometimes felt alien in.

Azriel was hidden just out of sight. He felt a deep pang of regret as he listened. The raw pain in your voice and the sight of your tears struck him more profoundly than he had ever expected. He realized then that his careless words had cut far deeper than he had intended, not just challenging your confidence but piercing the very core of your sense of belonging. Knowing that an apology would be necessary but not sufficient, Azriel resolved to actively show that you were valued and essential. Not just as a healer but as a vital member of their community. His thoughts solidified in the quiet of the night. He would make amends, starting with a heartfelt apology and followed by actions that would hopefully restore your faith in your place at the Night Court.

It was an ordinary yet busy day in the healer's quarters of the Night Court. You were deeply focused on tending to a young fae warrior who had sustained a minor but painful injury during training. As you carefully applied a healing salve the sound of urgent voices and heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway.

"He needs help now!" Azriel's voice carried a tone of dire urgency as he burst into the room. He was supporting a limping Cassian whose leg was bleeding profusely from a deep gash surely laced with poison. These damn Illyrians always coming back with some form of poisoned injury. The sight of such an injury would normally have you on your feet and rushing over. But the presence of Azriel, the harbinger of your recent heartache, gave you pause.

For a split second your gaze met Azriel's and the memory of his harsh words and cold dismissal surged through your mind. You looked away as quickly as you could. Your chest immediately tightened with anxiety at the thought of what to do. It wasn’t fair to Cassian to ignore him, but you didn’t think you could face Azriel right now. Terrified of another confrontation and still raw from the last you quickly turned your attention back to the young fae before you.

"This one's in a critical state, I need to focus here. Helena, please attend to the General." you called out your voice slightly louder than necessary. The lie laid bitter on your tongue. It wasn't entirely untrue. His injury did need attention, but it certainly wasn't as dire as Cassian's condition.

Helena, who had followed in behind Azriel and Cassian, quickly stepped forward to assist, sensing the tension. "I've got him, don't worry," she spoke as she moved to tend to Cassian with a swift efficiency that you were grateful for.

As you focused intently on the young fae's injury with your back turned to the drama unfolding behind you, you heard every strained whisper and shuffling footstep echoed ominously. Despite your efforts to concentrate your mind spun with anxiety and dread. You knew your actions were a protective shield guarding you from a confrontation you felt unprepared to handle.

Behind you, Azriel's concern for Cassian was palpable. His usual stoic demeanor was pierced by urgency. His voice a low, constant murmur as he assisted your assistant. Yet, his mind was partly on you. He was troubled by the palpable tension and the rigid set of your shoulders. The memory of his previous harshness towards you weighed heavily on him, mixing regret with a newfound caution. He wondered if his actions had broken something essential. Perhaps fearing that your trust in him might be irreparably damaged.

Cassian, despite his pain noticed the strained dynamics as well. As your assistant worked on his wound his eyes flicked towards you, then back to Azriel. "What happened between you two?" he hissed under his breath not missing the unusual distance you kept. Azriel's silence was an answer in itself. It was filled with remorse and resignation. Cassian's frown deepened. Concern for his friends overshadowing his physical discomfort. "You need to fix this, Az," he muttered, firm yet worried. "She’s not just any healer. She’s part of this family now. She’s going to replace Madja someday."

Once the immediate crisis was handled and Cassian was stable Azriel made his way towards you. His steps were hesitant, each one heavy with regret. When he paused by your side his presence felt like a cold shadow. His usual warmth for his family became obscured by the barrier that had formed between you.

"Thank you," he said softly. His voice low and perhaps understanding more than you wanted him to. "For all that you do here." You sucked in a breath at his words. Was he apologizing? Was he sorry? Were you completely misreading the situation yet again?

You didn't turn to face him. Fear of what you might see in his eyes—anger, disappointment, or worse, indifference—kept you fixed in place. "Of course," you managed to whisper. The words barely escaping your lips. He sensed that this wasn’t the time nor place to dig deeper so he resolved to keep his words simple. He would find you later when you weren’t busy working. He truly needed to apologize to you.

After he left the weight of the encounter settled heavily upon you. You felt a mix of relief at having avoided direct confrontation and a deep-seated guilt for your evasion. You knew this wasn't just about professional duties. It was about the fractures within a team, a family you had grown to cherish.

Later, as the healer’s quarters quieted and the evening settled in, Cassian found you in the gardens, where the night’s cool air seemed to echo the chill in your own thoughts. It was your favorite place to relax and unwind. Your sanctuary in the chaos that was the Night Court. He approached with a confident stride despite his recent injury and his expression was serious.

"Hey," he started. His voice carrying a hint of his usual directness mixed with concern. "Things were off between you and Az today. He’s worried, and frankly, so am I. We’ve all had our rough patches, but we don’t let that drive a wedge between us. Yeah?"

You paused, looking down at your growing herbs rather than meeting his gaze. You let out a soft sigh before answering him. "I’m just scared, Cass. I’m worried I’ll say the wrong thing again. It’s like... I’m tiptoeing around landmines with him. How do I even start to fix that?"

Cassian nodded. His features softening slightly. "Az can be intense. I won’t argue with that. But he’s also one of the most upright guys I know. Just be honest with him. Tell him you’re trying to avoid making things worse. He respects straightforwardness. Always has." He took a step closer, lowering his voice. "And remember, it’s not just about avoiding the landmines. It’s about clearing the field. Start with the truth. It’s always been the best foundation for us here, no matter how hard it might be."

You nodded appreciating his words. He was right. The truth got you so much further. "Thanks, Cass," you replied feeling a resolve begin to form. "I think I’ll talk to him. Just lay everything out."

"That’s the way," Cassian said with a brief nod. "We’re all here together, and we keep no secrets... save Azriel,” He smirked knowing that’s likely what got the two of you in the situation in the first place. “At least not the kind that hurt. If you're honest, he’ll listen. And if there’s anyone who can understand the value of facing hard truths, it’s Azriel."

As Cassian left you to your thoughts the weight on your shoulders didn't lift entirely but you felt more prepared to face the challenge ahead. Honesty would be your approach; you would share your fears with Azriel, hoping that it would bridge the gap between you. After all, in the Night Court, even the darkest shadows were faced together, not alone.

The next night you found yourself back in the serene confines of your herb garden where the evening light softened the edges of each leaf and petal. You were deeply absorbed in tending to a cluster of chamomile. The quiet focus on your plants provided a necessary reprieve from the swirling anxieties that had occupied your thoughts lately. However, your calm shattered when a shadow loomed unexpectedly over you. Azriel.

Startled, you looked up, only to find him standing there watching you with a curiosity you’d never seen from him before. His sudden presence was imposing and unexpectedly close and sent a rush of panic through you. His height and the intensity in his eyes seemed to fill the space making the air around you feel thinner.

"Oh! Azriel, you surprised me! I didn’t hear you walk over," you blurted out. A nervous chuckle escaping you as you hastily tried to gather your scattered wits. "I was just, um, focusing here, and—you know, plants don’t really talk back, so I guess I wasn't expecting any company."

He paused after noting your discomfort. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you," he said gently. His voice a soothing rumble. "I came to apologize. For the last time we spoke. I was too harsh. It was unfair to you."

Your response tumbled out in a rush. Your words tripping over each other. "No, no, it’s fine, really. I mean, not fine fine, but you know… I should’ve been more aware or something. I’m usually not this jumpy, I swear. Maybe a little—actually, maybe a lot right now because, well, you're kind of, um, imposing? And this wasn’t how I imagined our next conversation going..."

Azriel’s slight smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it did appear to carry a hint of amusement at your rambling. "I appreciate you saying that, but truly, I am the one who should be apologizing. I’ve thought a lot about what I said... and I regret it deeply. You didn’t deserve that." He took another step toward you as you stood.

You swallowed hard trying to steady your racing heart. "Why are you apologizing now?" you managed to ask feeling suddenly very aware of how close he was standing. The question felt bold, but your voice was anything but confident.

He took a slight step back giving you a bit more space. "Because I realized I might have made you feel unwelcome or undervalued here and that’s… that’s the last thing I want. We all need to support each other, and I failed in that moment. I want to make it right if you’ll let me."

Your mind raced with every thought, but you nodded feeling a mix of apprehension and relief. "I... yeah, I’d like that. I’ve been feeling a bit lost here. Like maybe I don’t belong. It’s been tough, and, well, your words stung. But maybe, I don’t know, maybe we can start over? Try to understand each other a bit more?" As you offered him a tentative smile the garden seemed to return to its peaceful state. The earlier tension dissipating slightly.

Azriel’s gaze softened with a rare flicker of amusement lighting his eyes as he noticed your unease. "You handle the complexities of healing with such ease," he commented with a slight tease in his voice, "yet you seem quite disarmed by a rather simple conversation."

You gave a small self-conscious laugh appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. "Well, it's one thing to deal with herbs and potions. They tend not to talk back. It's another to navigate apologies and emotions. Especially with someone who usually keeps his cards so close to his chest."

He smiled and it transformed his face, softening the usual stern lines. "Fair enough," he conceded. Then, his expression turned more serious. The playful glint replaced by a depth of sincerity. "I really am sorry, though. For everything. I know I keep saying it, but it’s because I mean it. I’ve been... difficult towards you these last few years. And I don’t want to burden you with the things I’ve carried. Of the decisions I've had to make. It’s not your weight to bear."

You listened, understanding dawning as you saw the heavy cloak of responsibility he wore. Something that was so integral to his identity yet so isolating. "Maybe not," you replied softly, "but sharing those burdens doesn’t mean you're passing them on. It just means you’re not alone with them anymore. We can share without it being a burden. Sometimes, sharing is how we heal."

Azriel looked at you with something like wonder flickering in his gaze. "I suppose you’re right," he admitted. "It’s just not easy for me. I’ve always thought keeping my troubles to myself was a way to protect others. But maybe... maybe I’ve been wrong about that." The conversation deepened as each of you explored the nuances of forgiveness and the strength found in mutual understanding and empathy. Azriel learned about the power of vulnerability. Not as a spymaster but as a man. And he saw how your empathy and gentle nature enriched the court in ways that strategy and strength could not.

"I've kept many secrets," Azriel confessed. His voice a soft murmur against the backdrop of rustling leaves. "Not because I enjoy the solitude but because I fear the consequences of those secrets unraveling."

"You don’t have to tell me everything," you assured him. "Just knowing that you trust me enough to admit you have these secrets is a step. We all have secrets Azriel. What matters is how we face them and who stands with us when we do."

Azriel nodded. The corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he smiled. A real smile that reached his eyes. "Thank you for understanding."

You nodded but still felt a nagging question at the bottom of your heart. The gardens around you seemed to hold their breath as you voiced a concern that had been shadowing your thoughts. "Azriel, back when you... when you were upset. You called me 'healer.' Is that… is that all you see me as?" Your insecurity got the better of you. The question sounded so much more childish as you asked it aloud, but you needed to know the answer.

Azriel’s expression changed instantly. The regret in his eyes unmistakable. "Gods, I am so sorry, Y/N. I was angry and overwhelmed and I unfairly took it out on you." His voice was thick with remorse. His usual stoicism giving way to a rare openness. "You are so much more than just a healer to us, to me. I should never have made you feel otherwise." Seeing the sincerity in his gaze you felt a complex knot of emotions begin to untangle. Yet, there was still a shadow of sadness in your eyes. A remnant of the hurt his words had caused.

Noticing this, Azriel did something completely unexpected. He stepped closer. His presence enveloping you whole, and hesitantly, almost awkwardly he opened his arms. "May I?" he asked softly giving you the choice.

With a small nod you stepped into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. It was a rare gesture from him as he was known for his guarded nature. It spoke volumes of his regret and his desire to make amends. His shadows ever a part of him, seemed to curl around the both of you gently. A comforting whisper against your skin.

As you stood there held in his careful embrace Azriel spoke again, his voice gentler than you had ever heard. "I’m truly sorry, Y/N. For everything. I let my anger and frustrations dictate my actions and you bore the brunt of that. I promise you this, I will do better. You deserve better."

Pulling back slightly he looked down into your eyes, ensuring you could see the truth in his. "Thank you for giving me the chance to apologize, to make things right. I don’t take your forgiveness lightly."

Your heart that was once heavy with doubt and hurt now fluttered with a burgeoning sense of renewed connection. "Thank you, Azriel, for understanding, for this," you said, your voice steady despite the emotions brimming within.

This conversation that was once a tentative path to reconciliation had blossomed into something deeper. A genuine connection fostered by understanding and shared vulnerabilities. Azriel's willingness to show his softer side, to bridge the gap with both an apology and a hug, marked a new chapter in your relationship. One filled with potential for even greater understanding and closeness. Together in the quiet of the herb garden you both began to navigate a path toward healing. Your relationship strengthened by the honesty and empathy of your exchange. It was a tentative step forward. One filled with potential for deeper understanding and a strengthened connection.

As the weeks turned into months, the atmosphere between you and Azriel visibly shifted. You both continued with your roles at the Night Court—Azriel, cloaked in shadows as the spymaster, and you, weaving magic and medicine as a healer. The sharp edges of earlier interactions softened replaced by a mutual respect and an unspoken understanding that grew with each passing day.

One evening during a relaxed gathering at the Night Court, the air was filled with the soft murmur of conversations and the warm laughter of friends and allies. Under the gentle glow of twilight you found yourself beside Azriel discussing something that excited you greatly—a plan for a new herb garden specifically designed for healing and restorative properties.

As you outlined your ideas your enthusiasm was palpable. "I’ve been researching some rare herbs that could thrive here under the Night’s eternal stars," you explained with your hands gesturing animatedly. "There’s this one flower, Lumina Blossom, known for its potent healing capabilities with poison but incredibly rare. I think with the right care, we could cultivate it here."

Azriel watched you with a soft smile playing on his lips as he listened intently. The usual shadows that clung to him seemed to lift slightly instead replaced by a light of curiosity sparked by your passion. It was a stark contrast to the brooding intensity he was known for. His gaze was fixed on you, clearly fascinated by your knowledge and the excitement that lit up your features.

"Have you considered adding Dawnlight Belle to your garden?" he suggested. His tone encouraging but slightly hesitant, as if he were treading on unfamiliar ground. "I've heard it's a good one. Especially for salves used in treating deep wounds, which unfortunately, we encounter often here."

You paused, your expression a mix of surprise and delight. "Azriel, I'm impressed you’ve heard of Dawnlight Belle," you said while nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, it's remarkably effective for healing deep wounds and incorporating it here would indeed be incredibly beneficial. It's also a bit of home but with a practical use for the Night Court."

Azriel’s smile widened slightly. His usual reserve melting away in the warmth of the conversation. "I thought it might be useful," he said softly. "It’s important to have pieces of home with us. And you’ve done so much to find your place here. It’s only fitting your garden does the same."

The conversation flowed easily between you as it slowly had come to. And as you spoke more about your plans Azriel's responses were thoughtful, showing his deep respect for your work. It was clear that he was not only listening but also truly engaged in what you were sharing.

As the evening wore on you found yourself more relaxed and open to discussing your hopes and dreams for the garden. Azriel's attentiveness and the sincere interest he showed in your passions brought a new depth to your interaction. A sense that something meaningful was blossoming between you, rooted in mutual respect and a shared sense of purpose.

Together you sketched out potential layouts for the garden. His strategic mind complementing your creative vision. The project that was born from a casual conversation was shaping up to be a beautiful symbol of regeneration and unity. It was a confirmation to the growing relationship forming between you as you both discovered the joy of collaboration and mutual understanding.

From across the way Cassian caught Rhysand and Feyre’s attention, nodding subtly towards you and Azriel with a wide grin. "Look at that," he chuckled. "Seems our resident shadowsinger has found a bit of light. Never thought I’d see the day."

Rhys, with a sly grin and a sparkle in his eye that matched the mischief in his voice, glanced over at you two. "Oh, I’d say there’s a bit more than just gardening going on there," he quipped as he leaned back with an air of casual intrigue. "Wouldn’t you agree, Cass? Feyre? It seems our spymaster might just be more enchanted with our lovely healer than he lets on."

Cassian laughed. His loud voice booming across the room. "You're one to talk, Rhys. Just don’t start planning their mating ceremony yet. Let them at least decide if they like each other first."

Feyre, who had been quietly observing the exchange from her place next to Rhysand, chuckled and shook her head. "She seems so good for him I must admit. But don't you dare meddle, Rhysand. We know how that turns out," she teased. Her eyes gleaming with humor. "Remember the Great Cake Incident of '49?"

The group erupted into laughter, including Rhys, who rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a grin. "Alright, alright, no meddling," he conceded. His voice still laced with laughter. "But for the record, that cake deserved better and meddling here would only help them."

The evening continued with the stars twinkling above as conversations flowed around the room. Your interaction with Azriel, now less guarded and more genuine, did not go unnoticed by those who knew him best. As the night deepened, the easy banter and shared smiles between you and Azriel spoke of something that was quietly strengthening. It was clear to everyone, even without Rhysand’s playful meddling, that something significant was blossoming. Something that went beyond the professional respect of two court members.

Together, you and Azriel discovered that even in a place as mystical and imposing as the Night Court, the true magic lay not just in ancient spells or hidden power but in the connections forged through vulnerability, trust, and perhaps, the beginnings of something deeper.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @kenn-spencerswifey @guacam011y @illisea @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

786 notes · View notes

thatacotargirl · 14 days

Note

Hiiiii I love your writing!! May I request Azriel x Reader, where reader gets amnesia. She’s Illyrian and was hurt by Illyrian men, so she’s scared of Az because she doesn’t remember him. Then wonderful angst because he never thought she’d be afraid of him, so he avoids her and is heartbroken. Then something happens, maybe he’s forced to interact with her or he says something specific, and her memories come back, so happy ending! Feel free to ignore if you don’t want to write this, thank you!💙

Hi lovely! Thank you so much for reading my work and for your request! I hope you like the story! 💙

Divider is once again from @tsunami-of-tears, eternally grateful to you for your creativity!

Dazelroot Daze

An Azriel x Reader imagine

Warnings: angst, poisoning, swearing, allusions to abuse / previous SA.

"Rhys, I am not cut out for this kind of mission - why did you not send Nesta!"

You huff to yourself as you climb the uneven stairs through the prison, following closely behind Rhys. You hated coming in here, and hated having to interact with the Bone Carver even more. You patted your back pocket, checking your gifted bone for him was still there, before climbing yet another stairwell.

"Y/n, you know I wouldn't have asked if it wasn't necessary. I can't exactly send Nesta in here even if she's only early in her pregnancy, they would sense it a mile off and she'd be a target. Not to mention, I don't fancy getting pummelled by Cassian for letting his pregnant mate in here".

You knew he was right, but it didn't make this any easier. You struggled through another narrow doorframe, trying to avoid smacking your wings against the wood, and stood in front of a metal gate. You hear Rhys hum to himself.

"What's wrong?".

"I've never seen a gate here before, this should be an open walkway".

You begin to feel uneasy as you see Rhys take a step back.

"Rhys?"

Before you can get another word out, you feel a powder cover your face, filling your nose and mouth, causing you to choke. You try to call out for help, but you can't get anything out, breathing becoming harder and harder. You hear Rhys distantly calling your name but you can't respond, can't move, all you can do is drop to the floor, your legs giving out from underneath you.

"Get Madja, now!"

Rhys' voice bellowed through the River House as he winnowed in carrying your lifeless body and placed your down on the living room sofa. The rest of the Inner Circle descended on the pair of you, including Azriel. When he saw your pale body, arm hanging off the sofa, his heart sank. He grabbed Rhys by the collar.

"What the fuck happened?"

Rhys didn't have time to answer before Madja appeared in the room, pushing everyone to the side and leaning over your body. Silence descended on the room as she ran tests, took bloods, checked your vitals - all the while your eyes remained closed and your body limp.

"She has been poisoned with a plant known as Dazelroot. It is highly toxic and can only be found in some very remote parts of the Spring Court. Thankfully, it looks like this particular strain was either incorrectly handled or extremely dried out, as it hasn't taken hold quite as potently as it should have. She will be ok, in that she will live, but we won't know the consequences until she wakes up".

"The consequences?", Feyre asks.

"I have never seen a person be poisoned with Dazelroot and live to tell the tale. We won't know what it will do to her until she wakes".

Feyre sobbed silently, her shoulders shaking. Nesta joined her, the sisters holding each other through their sadness. Cassian could only watch in horror as Azriel fell to his knees next to your body and cried into your shoulder.

"Madja, what can we do?", Rhys asks, wringing his hands.

"There's nothing, Rhys. We have to let her wake, and see what happens next. I'll be on hand, as will my assistants. Call us as soon as she wakes up".

Rhys shook Madja's hand and allowed her to leave, his grief weighing down on his shoulders heavily. It was his fault that you were in the prison, that he hadn't seen the trap beforehand, that you were the one to be poisoned. He tried to reach for Azriel, but Azriel swatted his hand away.

"Don't touch me", he gritted, his face still buried in your shoulder.

Rhys could do nothing but watch as his family fell apart in front of him.

It took 6 days for you to wake. 6 agonising days of your family watching your chest rise and fall, terrified that you would never again open your eyes. But you did.

Your eyes opened, and fell on Feyre's face.

"SHE'S AWAKE", Feyre called to your family, reaching out for your hand. You let her take it, but she couldn't overlook the confusion she saw in your eyes, the hesitancy of your body to let her touch you.

The room filled with your family and your eyes settled on a pair of Illyrian wings. Male Illyrian wings. Trauma racked through your body, memories of your life at the Illyrian camps, wing-clipping, assault, and you couldn't hold back your scream as you pulled your body up the bed, as close as you could get to the headboard.

"Y/n?", Azriel said gently, attempting to approach you. He froze when he realised it was him that you were trying to get away from.

Madja burst through the door at that moment, having been summoned by Rhys the moment he heard Feyre's shouts. She saw the blankness in your eyes the second she looked at you, and her eyes fell pityingly to Azriel.

"Hi y/n, I'm Madja, a healer here in the Night Court".

Your family looked at each other in pure confusion. You knew who Madja was. She'd been the family's healer for centuries. Why was she acting like you'd never met before?

Madja carried out her assessment before providing you a sleeping tonic. Once your body settled back into the pillows, looking more at peace than you had when you had woken up, she turned to Rhys.

"The Dazelroot has caused amnesia. She doesn't remember anything after her life after the Illyrian camps".

Rhys shook his head. "Ok, but when will her memory come back?".

Rhys saw the look on Madja's face and his stomach somersaulted.

"Will her memory come back?"

Madja placed a hand gentle on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry Rhys, there's no way to know".

She turned to Azriel, tears falling down his cheeks. He had realised that you had forgotten him, forgotten your mateship, the love you had shared for centuries. You only remembered the trauma you had faced at the hands of Illyrian males, males that bore the same wings as him. He had realised, seeing the look on your face, that you were afraid of him.

"You can try to offer her gentle reminders. It might break through the amnesia cloud. But there's nothing more we can do".

Madja departed, leaving your family to process the news. You didn't remember any of them.

17 months later

It had been 17 months since the incident, and your memory hadn't come back.

Feyre, Nesta, Elain and Mor had made it their mission to rebuild the friendship that you had had with them - regularly taking you out for brunch, shopping, and nights out at Rita's. Over time, you developed a new bond with them, and had started to trust them.

You had also re-kindled your friendship with Rhys and Lucien, the males giving you distance but engaging with you as often as possible, mostly through Feyre and Elain.

But Azriel and Cassian, you couldn't be near. Their wings reminded you too much of the trauma you had faced in the camps. Reminded you that your own wings had been clipped. Reminded you of the males that had used you for their own entertainment. Anytime they tried to approach you, their wings pinned as tightly as possible behind their backs, your body began to involuntarily shake and your eyes would fill with tears.

It had broken Azriel. He had become a shell of the former male he was. He started to withdraw from family dinners, he gave up his morning training. Azriel had slowly started to descend into a downward spiral, feeling the mating bond cold on the other end. His family had tried their best to help, but Azriel wanted for nothing but you. He locked himself in his bedroom most days and nights, seeking solitude in the shadows.

That was why, when his family decided to visit Sevenda's restaurant that evening, Azriel had ignored the inviting knock on his door. He didn't want to make it harder for you seeing him sitting at the other end of the table. He waited for the footsteps to pad away before grabbing a bottle of Whiskey from the shelf and pouring himself a generous glass.

Several hours later, Azriel was sat in bed with his book when he heard commotion. It sounded like crying, but it was pained. He sat up, listening out, when he heard it again - this time closer to his door. He thought everyone was out at Sevenda's, or maybe Rita's now, but there was unmistakably someone wandering through the hallway.

Azriel cracked open his door and peered out. At the end of the hallway, gripping the window pane, he saw your small frame huddled over. The scent of blood filled the air. Azriel panicked. He knew how bad your cycles were from the centuries you had spent together, that you needed help desperately, but right now he was the only one in the house with you, and you were terrified of him.

"Y/n?", he called out gently, trying not to startle you with his presence. He watched you turn slowly, your eyes wide in alarm.

"It's ok, it's just your cycle", he whispered, raising his arms to show you that he was not going to hurt you. You whimpered slightly, clutching the window pane so hard your knuckles had gone white.

"Can I help you?", he asked, not daring to move. You looked at him, his wings, your body shaking. But you knew you were helpless, not sure you could get yourself back to your bed even if you tried with all your might. So, you took a deep breath, and gave him a timid nod.

Azriel walked slowly towards you, his hands in front of him, and when he reached you he carefully put a hand forward to touch your shoulder. You shuddered, but didn't pull away.

"I'm going to take you back to your room, ok?". You could only nod as Azriel scooped you into his arms and walked you slowly back towards your room.

He placed you down carefully at your dressing table and silently walked into your bathroom, the sound of running water filling the room. Whilst the bath ran, you watched him strip the soiled sheets from your bed and replace them with fresh ones, putting a pair of your pyjamas neatly folded at the end. He then offered you his hand and guided you to the bathroom.

"Do you need some help?".

You didn't want to admit it, but you did. You could barely stand up under your own weight.

Azriel turned away from you to allow you to undress, holding a hand behind his back for guidance as you carefully lowered yourself into the bath. Once you were in, and hidden under the bubbles, you turned to look at him. At his wings. You had never known an Illyrian male to be so gentle. So calming. Even sat here alone in a bath with him in the room, you felt comfortable. You felt safe.

"Azriel?", you whispered.

"Would you like me to leave you be?" he asked, his back still turned to give you privacy.

"No".

You saw Azriel's shoulders sag slightly with relief, but he still kept his back to you.

"Please could you pass me that bottle over there, the green one?"

Azriel walked over to the counter to pick up the shampoo bottle and attempted to hand it to you behind his back, still not facing you. You giggled as he offered the bottle out to the empty end of the bath.

"It's ok, I'm hidden in the bubbles".

Azriel turned, his eyes not leaving your face, as he handed the bottle to you. You took it, pouring some into your hand, and he watched you wince as you raised your arms above your body to your hair, stretching your stomach.

"May I?", he asked quietly. You nodded, handing the bottle to him. Azriel knelt down behind your head, pouring the shampoo into his hands and massaging it into your hair. The moment his hands touched you, you felt a calming peace descend over you, and you closed your eyes to bask in it. You were about to ask him to rub it into the nape of your neck, your favourite place, when you felt his hands move there instinctively. A jolt went through your body, and Azriel jumped backwards.

"Are you ok?"

You turned to face him, his leathers covered in water, bubbles and shampoo suds, and looked down at his scarred hands. Visions flew through your mind of his hands in your hair, his hands offering to feed you grapes on your honeymoon to the Summer Court, his hands touching your body, his hands placing a ring on yours at your mating ceremony, his hands holding out your cup of coffee to you every morning - black, just how you liked it.

You reached out to take them, feeling every emotion come flooding back to you. A tug at your chest made you look up, as Azriel's filled with tears.

"My mate", you whispered.

"My mate", he replied, his head moving to rest on your forehead.

You held each other, the bath water turning cold and the bubbles melting away, allowing all your love and devotion to flow to each other through the bond. Forgotten, but never gone.

#a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #a court of frost and starlight #azriel x reader #acotar imagine #acotar oneshot #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #acotar azriel #azriel shadowsinger x reader

546 notes · View notes

utterlyotterlyx · 3 months

Text

Skin and Bones

Cassian x Fem!Reader

Summary - Cassian barely knew who you were let alone your affections toward him. Determined to not play the Lord of Bloodshed's puppy, you kept quiet, silently waiting for the Mother to give you your chance. But, one Starfall, everything changes.

Warnings - pining, fluff, alcohol use, swearing

Based of this ask

The teasing had become a common occurrence.

It wasn't often that you left the confinements of The Library, but when you did, for whatever reason that would be, you'd always find yourself in the same place as the Lord of Bloodshed, and his mere presence encapsulated your attention enough to shush to to complete silence.

Cassian was a god-like specimen, the curves of his taut, trained muscle contorting with each movement, his hair pulled back into a well-maintained bun with slices falling over his face that faded down the sides to that impeccable beard ; he was ruggedly handsome, rough-hewn with sun-kissed golden skin, and brown-green eyes that made you weak whenever they passed over you.

He had only spoken to you twice, once when he asked if you were alright after you had dropped a stack of books upon seeing him, little did he know that you weren't just some clumsy researcher, but that you were awestruck upon seeing that carved from the mountains complexion and those large membranous wings. The other time he had spoken to you was to ask for a book that Amren needed, a request you had quickly granted, your giddiness drifting like ash in the wind when he took the book from your grasp with a small thanks and looked right through you.

Other than those two instances, Cassian hadn't spoken to you, it was like you didn't even exist to him.

You weren't the most ongoing female, you didn't find joy in sauntering about the room and throwing yourself onto any male who deemed you worthy enough. You were reserved. You were quiet to all but the ones who truly knew you well enough to say that you were by far the most complex thing in all of Velaris.

And that was saying something.

"He's never going to notice you when you hole yourself up in the corner like that," Mari drawled, rolling her eyes at you as you had, yet again, found Cassian laughing thunderously across the room and set your sights on him, "Go and talk to him."

Your friends had consistently tried to convince you to talk to him, to try and give you the confidence you needed to walk right up to the Lord of Bloodshed and tell him exactly how you felt.

"How long are you going to look at him until you just do it?" Rita's was teething with thumping music and swirling talk, it was the night of Starfall, and the entire of Velaris had moved from their own private celebrations to dance and drink the night away at the city's favourite bar.

Not taking your eyes off of him as he stood between his brothers, laughing like a giddy child with his white canines shining in the glittering light, you told Sia, "As long as I need to."

Sia scoffed, pushing her moon white hair back over her shoulder and allowing her silver gaze to tear into you, "Not good enough, Y/N."

Humming in agreement, Mari leaned over the white marble table and grasped you chin in her delicate fingers, "You look insane tonight. Don't waste it by sitting in that corner. Even the High Lady doesn't outshine you in that dress," Mari's dark pools of onyx and blue winked, her voice was as soft as summer rain.

"I'm not going to be a puppy that chases him around-"

"It'll happen when it happens and all of that crap," Sia waved her hand, reciting your weekly words, "And looking at him like that every time is doing what exactly?" Heat crept up your cheeks and you scowled, "Come on, we're dancing," Sia sank her drink, the delightfully tropical concoction that was once in her glass dissipating, "I'm not asking."

Mari was right. You did look incredible.

Red fabric doused in diamonds clung to every curve and shimmered in the faelight with every movement you took, an off-the-shoulder neckline which highlighted the hollowness of your collarbones, a high slit that reached your right thigh, matching lace gloves that kissed your elbows. Absolute perfection.

With a sigh, you slid your covered hand into Sia's who wasted no time in hauling you up and dragging you through a sea of intoxicated bodies to the centre of the dancefloor, just in case you changed your mind. Caging in the little mouse with no means of escape.

They were lucky to have been able to convince you to treat yourself for once, to buy a new dress and put makeup on, to give yourself something to look forward to. Sia and Mari knew how lonely The Library could be, though of course knew that you didn't mind one bit, you loved what you did, it had enabled you to travel the world and find things no male ever could. It was always about perspective, you had told them.

Sia placed her hands on your waist, making you sway to the beat of the music with her, your bodies moving like a ripple down the Sidra. Light fell over you, drifting through the crowd who were becoming lost in the thumping melodies, falling victim to the alcohol in their systems. It was Starfall, how couldn't they?

Your friend reached behind you, pulling the pin from your delicately wound updo, allowing your hair to flow down your spine and smiling as you ran your fingers through it, twirling around and feeling every hit of bass reverberate through your body.

Too busy losing yourself in the moment, you didn't feel a certain gaze floating over your figure, drinking in your large smile and giggles as you danced, drinking in the curve of your breasts and hips, "Who are you looking at?" Mor appeared next to him, swaying slightly from the amount of alcohol she had drank, crouching beneath his chin like it would help her focus on who had stolen his attention. "Oh, please tell me you're looking at Y/N."

"Y/N?" Cassian asked, puzzled, he tilted his head to the side, looking at your closer, the pretty eyes and soft features, the pure joy as you jumped to the music with your friend.

"Y/N? Prythian's most accomplished researcher?" Mor barked incredulously, in disbelief that anyone could have the gall to not know who the female was, "She's the most impressive person I've ever met."

"More impressive than me?" Cassian smirked at the golden-haired blonde, it was suggestive, it was teasing, it earnt him a sharp jab to the arm, "Ow," he rubbed over the clothed patch of skin, enjoying the feel of the silk black shirt he had decided to adorn that night.

"Way more impressive than you, Lord of Bloodshed," Mor finished the last of her drink and leaned into him, "I'm surprised you haven't noticed her before, she's always helping Azriel and Amren out with whatever they need."

That's it. Y/N.

Cassian knew who you were. The ditzy researcher that worked within the library in the River House, the one who had gotten that book for him one time, the one who had dropped a stack of tomes on her toes and repressed the squeal until she'd gone red in the face.

But surely that female wasn't you. You looked- you looked so radiant, practically glowing like a star in a sea of darkness, completely different to the grey-blue tunic pants you wore alongside a thick black woven jumper that drowned you.

"That's Y/N?" Cassian asked, shocked, narrowing his eyes on you when Mor nodded, "But, I've barely even noticed her, she's so quiet."

Azriel laughed then, loudly too, one that rumbled through his chest as he clasped Cassian's shoulder, "Y/N is not quiet," he told his brother, looking to you fondly, "She's the loudest thing ever actually, funny too."

"I've never heard her. I've barely noticed her existence."

Mor reached a finger out and flicked the pendent dangling from his neck, "Because she's not loud when you're around, silly."

A beat passed and Azriel let out a small, knowing, "Oh," like a lightbulb had flashed on in his brain, the penny dropping in his mind, and a shit-eating grin pulling at the corners of his lips.

"What?" Cassian asked, his gaze flickering between Azriel and Mor who were silently communicating with their eyes.

Mor smiled, "I think you should go and talk to her, say hi, happy starfall and all of that stuff," Mor gave him little option, pushing him from their ledge and onto the dancefloor.

Cassian rolled his shoulders and turned to Mor and Azriel with a scowl, they had taken a step closer to one another, whispering between themselves.

She was right though, he should be polite and wish you a happy starfall. Adjusting the open collar of his silk shirt, he moved through the crowd that parted like the Sidra before him until he saw a straight line guiding him to you.

Your friend saw him coming and dipped her head to him before taking a step back, smirking to herself at your complete unawareness of the situation as you twirled back to where you thought she was, only to meet a wall of rock hard muscle and wings that cast a shadow over you.

Dark amber, smoke, and cloves stung their way down your nose and into your lungs, it was the deepest breath you had ever taken. Those brown-green eyes that stalked your dreams were now peering down on you with splendid wonder, his entire figure curled around you, and you felt your heart beating a mile a minute.

"Hi," his voice was low and rough, his breath smelt like aged whisky, and his entire body heat made you feel like your skin was on fire, "Y/N, right?"

It took you a moment to respond, "Yeah," you replied, gravity shifting around you and the music dimming into a hum in your ears.

Cassian grinned, "I'm Cassian."

"I know who you are," the movement of your lips had him entranced, like they were moving in slow motion, he watched them peel from one another, he watched the movement of your tongue with every sweet syllable that moved through them.

It wasn't often that Cassian found himself speechless, it wasn't often that he stood before such an accomplished female and knew little to nothing about her, "Mor mentioned that you're a researcher, that you help Amren and Azriel sometimes. How come I know nothing about you?"

His eyes were hypnotising, "You've never looked long enough."

Cassian smiled, eyes glistening with approval as he took a step forward, laying a hand on you waist and sending an electrifying current over every inch of your skin, "Maybe I should."

You hummed, "Maybe it's time you did," you were doing everything you could to keep your soul from trembling, to keep your voice calm and stoic, to throw that confident façade up like a shield.

His finger, as rough and calloused as you had dreamed it would be, took a strand of hair and pushed it over your shoulder, his fingers grazing your collarbone on their retreat. "Dance with me?"

You spent the remainder of the night in his arms, dancing with him to the music, allowing his large hands to roam your body and ask questions about you that no one had ever bothered to.

It happened to be the most magical Starfall that either of you had ever celebrated.

497 notes · View notes

azrielsmate87 · 6 months

Text

Coming home Drabble

Azriel x reader

Summary: Azriel comes home from a mission early and accidentally wakes you

Warnings: N/A

Protecting the night court was never easy, even after over 500 years of experience the mental strain put on Azriel caused tension in his aching body. His wings drooping when stepping through the door of the small cabin on the outskirts of Velaris. It wasn’t massive by any means but it was wing friendly, and yours.

He passed the books that littered the floor along with other Knick knacks scattered around: paintings of your family from many decades ago, homemade candles from the market that made the cabin smell of jasmine and vanilla and warm fae lights strung along the shelf’s. It wasn’t much but you managed to make the small space cozy and a home, something Az was very happy with.

Tip toeing through the house Azriel took his boots off knowing the sound of them on the floorboards would wake you. Him coming home three days early wasn’t easy but it was worth it to be with you. Even though all he wanted to do was see you and your face light up at the fact he’s surprised you with his early return he couldn’t help but admire how beautiful you are in the moonlight.

He changed out of his leathers and noticed the jogging bottoms you temporarily stole from his room in the house of wind and changed into them, then slipped into bed next to you. He was finally comfortable. He wrapped his arm around you and pulled your back to his front and placed his head on top of yours revelling in your scent.

As Azriel started to drift off he felt you move. “That better be you shadowsinger or we’re going to have a problem” you groggily murmured into the night, enjoying the heat he provided you, knowing it was your mate. He chuckled at your hint of a threat and lazily skimmed his fingers over your arms trying to lull you to sleep “It’s me little one, go back to sleep” he whispered into your hair tightening his grip on your waist.

You knew the position would soon become uncomfortable for the huge bat next to you, so you gently tugged his arms allowing you to move and nudge Azriel until he was lying on his back with his wings splayed out. You curled into his side and nuzzled your face into his bare chest pressing your lips to his chest for a quick kiss, inhaling his scent feeling sleep consume you once more as he wrapped his wing around you almost as if to protect you from the world. You didn’t fight sleep but before you did you whispered to him,

“I’ll greet you properly tomorrow. Welcome home Az”

#acotar #azriel #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #fluff #drabble #oneshot #a court of thorns and roses

746 notes · View notes

runnning-outof-time · 25 days

Text

The Joys of Being a Girl Dad | Tommy Shelby & Alfie Solomons (set in Girl Dad series)

Request: no - written for @justrainandcoffee ‘s 2 year ‘Alfieversary’

Pairing: Tommy Shelby (x Reader mentioned) & Alfie Solomons (x fem!OC & child OC mentioned)

Summary: Tommy stops by Margate to congratulate an old associate…adversary…friend.

Warnings: language (it’s Tommy and Alfie we’re talking about here), a slight bit of Cyril slander

A/N: I’m sorry it took me soooo long to write something for your celebration, Flor!! I guess I could call this a present for Rose’s 1 year anniversary too now, even though she’s not really in it. Thank you for sharing this beautiful au with us!!

A/N 2: I should also say that this story was supposed to be shorter, but I just kinda became invested and ran away with it…I hope you don’t mind. Also it’s been a bit since I’ve written for Alfie, so I hope he’s not too ooc here. Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! — YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged!

“Who let you in?” the man who was sitting facing the open balcony door asked.

“How’d you know it was me?” the other man, who was standing at the entrance of the room, responded with his own question.

“Smelt the smoke and horse shit the second you stepped through that archway,” the first man mused, earning a snort from the second. “So I’ll ask again: who let you in?”

“Your wife…”

“Figures she did,” the first man cut the second off, muttering the comment under his breath.

“Your wife’s assistant let me in after she told me to get lost and slammed the door in my face,” the rest of the statement was shared, which made the first man finally spin in his seat to look back towards the archway.

Silence hung in the air for a few moments, the two men staring at each other from several paces away…much like they had on that fated day all those months ago. “So why didn’t ya listen to her?” the first man finally broke the quiet, his quip conjoined with a look of query.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Alfie?” the second man asked, his eyebrows just slightly raised.

“It has,” the first man nodded, pursing his lips together for a moment before he continued, “yet it is still sooner than the day in which I thought I’d see Tommy Shelby again.”

Tommy Shelby just shook his head at the man’s remark, looking at the ground as he pursed his lips. It didn’t faze him in the slightest.

“Why’re you here then?” Alfie asked, still wanting to get to the bottom of the Birmingham man’s presence. However, he interjected again before said man even had the chance to speak: “you’ve come to finish me off, haven’t ya? Since ya couldn’t get it right the first time.”

“I’ve come with something,” Tommy answered, not even bothering to respond to Alfie’s second comment.

He then stepped towards the chair that the other man was sitting in, his hands still behind his back. Anyone else would have wondered if maybe they’d got it right…maybe he was actually there to finish his old adversary off. But Alfie wasn’t bothered in the slightest. No, he could tell from the manner in which Tommy approached him.

“I want to offer a congratulations…on your daughter,” Tommy finished his statement once he was standing in front of Alfie. Alfie looked him over with raised eyebrows, wondering just how a busy, business-minded man like him would have gotten such information. “(Y/N) told me the news. She got word of it from Rose,” Tommy gave the curious man some more information.

“That Rosie…” Alfie mused with a slight shake of his head, “I had a feelin’ that she hadn’t cut off all contact with you Shelbys.” He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of his wife still keeping up a regular correspondence with the wife of the man who’d shot him.

(Y/N) and Rose had hit it off practically from the moment they met each other. Their friendship went beyond their husbands’ business partnership, and so when one disgruntled husband aimed a gun at the other and pulled the trigger, the two women tried hard not to let it come completely between them. There some time where radio silence prevailed…actually most out the time over the course of the last year was filled with radio silence, but it didn’t seem like a beat was missed when Rose contacted (Y/N) to tell her of the newest addition to the Solomons family.

Although Tommy was more hesitant to make amends, he couldn’t deny his wife’s request to deliver something to the newest Solomons.

“She wanted me to give you this,” Tommy then said, finally revealing the tan, stuffed rabbit that he’d brought with him. “To give to her,” he included, making his intentions more clear.

“I knew you weren’t givin’ me a stuffed rabbit,” Alfie quipped, snorting to himself before continuing, “or at least I hope you were plannin’ to.”

“I wasn’t planning on doing that, Alfie, no,” Tommy shook his head, dismissing the comment before it gained any ground. “The rabbit’s for your girl.”

Alfie took a moment to look over the other man again. He was still holding the rabbit out in front of him, waiting for Alfie to take it. Tommy wondered how long Alfie was going to make him stand like this.

Finally he took it. “She’ll like it,” Alfie stated, eyeing over the animal from close up now. He couldn’t deny that it felt soft in his hands. Allie would surely love it. “Thanks, Tommy.”

“My three couldn’t go to bed without it,” Tommy commented, a small smile gracing his lips as he thought of his three daughters and the love they had for that very stuffed rabbit.

A look of realization flashed across Alfie’s face as he heard Tommy’s comment. He brought his hand up to his jaw and ran it down his cheek slowly, stroking his beard as if he was in thought. “Have a seat,” he then said, gesturing to the chair that was set directly across from the one he was sitting in. He waited until the other man was seated before continuing, “three girls, huh?” he mused, sounding like he was talking more so to himself than anything.

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded in response.

“A proper girl dad,” Alfie commented then.

“A what?” Tommy asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“You’re a dad that’s got all girls, hence the fucking term girl dad…stick with it, Tommy,” the response came laden with derision.

Tommy raised his eyebrows at the other man’s comments, looking to the ground as he let the air cool off before he cleared his throat and nodded his head. “Yeah, a girl dad then.” He ran a hand along the back of his head as he spoke, wondering if he was even using the term correctly. Alfie didn’t comment, so he guessed that he didn’t seem to care none.

Instead the newer father continued on with the conversation. “Does it ever get hard?”

“What? Being a girl dad?” Tommy looked over at him again.

“No, not being able to hit your fucking mark when you’re fifteen fucking paces away,” Alfie retorted, “yes, being a girl dad,” he then exaggerated his words.

Tommy bit his tongue yet again. He wasn’t here to get into a fight with Alfie Solomons. The rabbit currently sitting in the other man’s lap was supposed to serve as a sort of olive branch.

“It does,” he finally answered after a moment’s pause.

“Give me some fuckin’ detail, mate,” Alfie asked.

“Fuckin’ hell, Alfie,” Tommy sighed under his breath, pressing the pads of his thumbs against his eyelids. He cleared his throat again as he thought of how he’d answer the question. “It’s been hard from the moment we brought Thea home. A different sort of hard than the ‘hard’ I’ve experienced prior. But it’s also been rewarding...with Thea, then Evie and now Juniper. I’ve learned more from them than from anything else I’ve ever done.”

Alfie took a moment to digest what his confidant had just shared with him. He truly didn’t expect Tommy Shelby to come out with such meaningful statements. I guess even the worst of men can change their tones, he thought to himself. “I didn’t know ya had it in ya, Tommy,” he commented, exuding a breath of a laugh as he shook his head.

Tommy kept his eyes locked on Alfie unsure of how to respond to his comment. He wondered if this was all some sort of game…if Alfie now wanted to toy with him; getting him to open up just to use the information against him.

“Thanks for sharing it though. I, uh…” Alfie paused, the sound of his voice cutting through Tommy’s thoughts and making him focus in again. “I’ll take all of the help I can get with this one. They say that raising a child takes a fucking village, or however that fucking saying goes.”

“There’s a great deal of joy in it too,” Tommy made sure to add, hoping to convey that having daughters, or kids at all for that matter, wasn’t only stressful. “I just know that I wouldn’t be able to do it without (Y/N) though.”

“That’s the same with me and my Rosie. A fuckin’ trooper, that woman is,” Alfie agreed in regards to his wife. Truthfully, he wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for Rose Solomons. He genuinely owed his life to her…and he was going to spend the rest of it showing her.

Silence fell between the two men then, both sitting comfortably in their thoughts of the women they had in their lives, and of how much their respective wives meant to them. The silence hung until the sound of small feet came pattering off of the hardwood in the hallway.

“Daddy! Daddy!” a shrill voice of a small girl soon accompanied the hurried footsteps. Said girl quickly appeared in the archway of Alfie office. Along with her frantic demeanor, Alfie was also able to see streaks of tears on her chreks.

“What’s wrong, Allie?” he asked her, his brows furrowing together.

“Cyril chewed on my stuffie, daddy!” she exclaimed, hiccuping as she spoke through her tears. “It was my favorite stuffie!”

“Awe now love, I’m sorry about that,” Alfie began, opening his arms to the child as she came over to him. She quickly fell into them, and he wasted no time in hugging her tightly. “He’s just a brute that knows nothing of favorite stuffies,” he consoled her as she continued to sniffle her tears away.

Tommy watched on as the moment played out in front of him. He laughed to himself as hearing the reason behind the problem at hand took him back to the moments where Cyril had chewed his girls’ stuffies; there had to have been several instances during the dog’s stay at Arrow House.

“I don’t have a stuffie now, daddy,” Allie whimpered, finally lifting her head from her father’s chest. “Mum said it was too covered in slobber to be saved.”

“Well I’ve got just the fix for ya, Allie,” Alfie began, unwrapping one of his arms from her so that he could blindly search for the stuffed rabbit that Tommy had just handed him. He continued when he found the animal, “now I know it’s no bear, and I know that your favorite stuffies have all been bears, but this lovely little lass was just placed upon my lap moments before you came runnin’ in.”

Allie’s eyes immediately found the rabbit, and she had it in her tight embrace within an instant. “This stuffie is so soft! And she has a lovely bow!” she observed, now beaming with excitement. “Thank you so much, daddy!” she smiled at her father.

“Thanks have to go to that man,” Alfie told his daughter, nodding in Tommy’s direction. He bit his tounge and stopped the urge to add ‘the one who shot your father’ because even he knew this wasn’t the time for that. He didn’t want to bring that feud into Allie’s realm.

“What’s his name?” Allie asked in a loud whisper, her shy eyes finding Tommy’s.

“Tell ‘er your name, mate,” Alfie beckoned Tommy to share the information.

“It’s Tommy,” the other man followed suit, smiling as he spoke.

Allie observed him for a moment, surely trying to decide what she felt about him. A few beats of silence passed before a smile formed on her face. “Thank you, Mr. Tommy,” she said in a small voice.

“You’re welcome, Allie,” Tommy nodded, his smile widening.

“Dad you have to yell at Cyril now,” Allie turned back to her dad, a deep frown present on her face.

“I’ll make sure he knows what he’s done,” Alfie assured her, “go play, love.”

With one last smile, Allie hopped off of her father’s lap and exited the room almost as quick as she entered it.

“That fuckin’ dog…” Alfie trailed off, shaking his head, “why’d you give him back?”

“You wanted him back, Alfie,” Tommy answered in a monotone voice.

“You may be right,” Alfie conceded, cracking a smile as he thought about the dog.

“Your daughter’s lovely,” Tommy commented.

“She is, ain’t she?” Alfie answered, “light of my fuckin’ life, that girl…both her and her mum.”

Tommy nodded, his mind going to his wife and daughters. There was no doubt that he shared the same sentiment towards his girls.

Oh, the joys of being a girl dad…even if — or rather when, because it’ll surely happen again — Tommy and Alfie were at odds with each other, they’ll always have the shared title as something they can both relate to.

MASTERLIST

The Story of Rose and Alfie

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @theshelbyslimited

@peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss

@alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl

@emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife

@anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08

@insanitybyanothername @depxiety @justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter

@cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable

@thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @jomarch-wannabe @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo

191 notes · View notes

artandbrimstone · 4 months

Text

what happened to the boy that was so full of life?

383 notes · View notes

sillymercury · 3 months

Text

I’m Not the Crazy One, She Is!

Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Slight suggestiveness and swearing

Word count: 7.7k (idk I went a lil cray)

Summary: You weren’t trying to kill your neighbor, honestly, you were just defending yourself. But that crazy fae and her antics land you in a holding cell. Luckily for you, getting arrested turns out to be much more fun than you ever anticipated.

My face was set into a hard line as I sat on the curb outside of Rita’s. The sound of the bar closing early was clearly audible from the spot the lawman had told me to sit and not move. Patrons exited with grumbling and angry faces, some glared as they passed and I could only offer apologetic smiles. I was already uncomfortable enough without the condescending stares and occasional curses.

The cool air pushed my hair around and with my hands magically bound behind my back I was repeatedly spitting strands out of my mouth. My thin dress provided no solace against the cold stone under my ass and the unrelentingly wind was only making it worse. I was beyond uncomfortable but the civil servants didn’t seem to care.

This wasn’t fair; it’s not like I started the fight, I just finished it.

I’ve never been a fighter per se, but I’ve also never let someone walk all over me and at this point I’d had enough. The crazy bitch to my left was currently raging against the other two patrols, thrashing around and spitting on their uniform. I scoffed as she screamed obscenities and pushed the female off of her with a hard kick to the chest.

“See!” I exclaimed at the patrol that was half watching me and half watching his colleges struggle to detain the crazed fae. “She’s fucking crazy! Obviously I’m the victim here.”

His eyes moved to mine and I widened them for emphasis, he responded with a scoff of his own. “It took all three of us to drag you off of her,” he crossed his arms over his chest, “not to mention multiple witnesses are willing to testify that most of the property damage was your fault.” His eyes narrowed as he dared me to challenge the statement.

I just leaned back and kicked my legs out with a huff. A couple of chairs, tables, some glasses, some bottles, a few bystanders, and an already weak wall wasn’t enough. I should’ve thrown her into or hit her with something else. Even now, watching her childish display had me itching to go put her in her place all over again.

“Listen, I’m a cool fae. Calm and collected, I don’t start problems. Her,” I jerked my elbow into the direction of the female that wasn’t slowing down, “on the other hand, does. None of this would’ve happened if she hadn’t come up to me. She was pulling my hair and scratching at my eyes! What would you have done?”

I leaned forward expectantly, I knew he agreed. Instead of confirming he just shook his head and looked away. Back-up had finally arrived and three of the four officers assisted in detaining the wild one. One of them used whatever magic they possessed to temporarily knock her out for transport. The remaining lawman approached where I was sitting and looked me up and down.

“I take it you’re the one who fought her?” I looked over at the unconscious female that was being slung over a shoulder and just nodded with a light shrug. “Can’t say I blame ya,” he responded in a much more relaxed tone than the first officer.

“Thank you!” I exclaimed as he helped me onto two feet. I threw the first patrol a look that said everything I was thinking which he only responded with another shake of his head. I didn’t miss the light smile he had and in that moment I felt like I had this in the bag. I assumed I would get a warning, maybe a slap on the wrist and be sent on my way. I hoped that they would lock her up in some far off dungeon and throw away the key.

The new officer grabbed my elbow lightly before winnowing us to the station. I suppressed my groan as I took in the depressing scene. Gray walls, gray floors, gray bars that lined different holding cells on the back wall. The room was packed with multiple desks where about 15 officers sat, some with either with victims or perpetrators in front of them. Every desk though had stacks of papers that threatened to spill to the floor.

I followed diligently behind the officer as he led me farther and farther to the back. I prayed that he would stop at any of the empty desks but he didn’t stop until he reached the cells. He opened up the metal door and looked at me expectantly.

“Wait, I have to go in there?” My voice was slightly shrill and I couldn’t contain the breaths that were coming out rapidly. The cop just raised his eyebrows and nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “For how long? I have to work in the morning. I can’t be here all night!”

The officer just chuckled and shrugged, “Well I’ve got about a hundred other things on my to do list. I guess you should’ve thought about that before destroying thousands of marks worth of property and assaulting someone.”

My hands shook behind my back and I suddenly understood what made that female rage against the law. I wanted to do anything, everything to keep me out of that cell. Screaming, crying, fighting, biting… whatever it would take to keep me out of there. I knew though that none of it would work, it would just make my situation worse. Begrudgingly I forced my heavy feet to carry me into the cell, all the way to the bench on the back wall. I sat with a plop and depression marred my face as I watched the cop lock the door.

I hit my head against the wall with a groan as I thought about what led me here, my stupid crazy neighbor. But seemingly my luck didn’t run out, it was still finding ways to make the situation worse. My neighbor didn’t just live next to me, her limp body was also parked in the cell next to mine. I cursed the wall for not being solid, instead it was just a row of metal bars keeping us apart.

Eventually her body began to stir as she woke up and I mentally prepared myself. Not only for her grating voice but for the verbal abuse that would accompany it.

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” Morrigan called out to her slow moving family, “We’re burning nighttime!”

Feyre laughed as she hauled Rhys off the couch and hollered one more time for Nesta and Cassian. Azriel was ready, standing dutifully by Mor as he waited with her for the rest of their family. He only took off his leathers at the persistent pestering of Mor. Donning black pants and a black muscle tank, his dark shadows concealed most of him and he looked more like a black mass on two legs. Mor wore her famous color in a tight dress that flowed beautifully over her legs accompanied by a slit that ran to her hips. Feyre’s dress complimented Mor’s but in a deep blue that resembled the night sky, Rhys wore his usual tailored garb that matched the silver detailing on Feyre’s dress.

The couple approached the door and Rhys had a far off look in his eyes before speaking, “Looks like it’s just us… Nes and Cass are,” he cleared his throat before flashing a coy grin, “busy.”

“Eww,” Mor muttered Turing around and opening the door for everyone. “Whatever we’ll have fun on our own!” Mor screamed into the house and only the sound of something falling over upstairs answered her. She rolled her eyes before closing the door behind her.

The pairs made their way through cobble stone roads aiming for their favorite bar. At least once a week Mor would drag them out demanding a good time and she always got her wish. Her and Feyre linked arms as they skipped and the boys walked in a comfortable silence behind them.

“Gonna pick up any ladies tonight?” Rhys nudged his brothers shoulder as he teased, “I know Mor will. Wouldn’t want you to have to spend the night listening to everyone else enjoy themselves.” Rhys chuckled as he pondered all the different ways to get Feyre out of that form fitting dress. Azriel shook his head, already knowing where his brothers mind had gone.

A small smirk snuck its way onto his lips, “I suppose I could indulge.”

“Ooo hoo hoo!” Rhys jested, “My brother, the fox.” A low chuckle left Az’s lips as he just shook his head again. The light air that surrounded themselves dropped when the girls stopped skipping to take in the scene in front of them.

All of the lights in Rita’s was on and crowds of people were formed outside. There were multiple patrols going in and out of the bar and some of them were taking statements from the bystanders. Some of the individuals were with medics, either being bandaged or given ice to sooth wounds. Azriel switched gears in the blink of an eye, going from easing going brother to spymaster as he detached to scope the scene.

“What the hell!” Mor practically screeched as she pushed through the crowded street, heading into the pub. Rhys and Feyre shared a glance that conveyed their confusion and worry before following Mor inside.

The place was a wreck. Multiple tables were broken and shards of chairs were strewn about. Wherever there wasn’t wood chips there was broken glass and the stench of the alcohol that covered the floor attacked their senses upon arrival. The wall that separated the entry way to the hall looked like it had been chopped up with an ax and Rita was behind the bar surveying the scene with distress.

“What happened?” Mor asked after rounding the bar and taking a defeated looking Rita into her arms.

“Bar fight.” She said simply, “I’m going to have to shut down for the rest of the week. Some of my best bottles are now in puddles on the floor, and that alone’ll take a month to get a new shipment in.”

Mor looked pissed and Rhys’ expression wasn’t far behind. To see his families favorite oasis in disarray and people of his court injured had redness creeping up his neck and threatening his face.

An officer strolled in and bowed to his high lord and lady before addressing Rita, “We’ve taken multiple statements and taped off the scene. There’s not much more we can do at the moment but we’ll be back to collect damage report.” Rita nodded understandingly but Mor wasn’t having it.

“Not much more to do?!” Her voice was loud as she screamed, “Look around! Look at this place! This… this is a crime!” She was irrational at the moment, she obviously didn’t expect the officers to clean up the scene but she wanted- needed- something to be done.

“Yes…” the cop blinked before straightening and clearing his throat, “it is. We are taking this very seriously. The suspects are already in custody so there isn’t really anything else we can do.” He seemed nervous as he remembered who he was talking to. His eyes darted between a flabbergasted Mor and his high lord, Rhys just nodded and that seemed to calm him down before he practically ran away.

“I am going to kill whoever did this,” Mor seethed, her hands shaking. Rita was her friend and this was her favorite spot in the city, she felt as though the crime was done specifically to her. “I mean- what? What are we going to do?”

Rita just shook her head but Rhys’ attention was redirected when Azriel materialized next to him.

“Bar fight, between two females. Subject A attacked subject B and B used her powers to fight off A. 3 bystanders were injured and by the looks of it,” Azriel keen eyes raked over the room before turning back to Rhys, “thousands in damage.”

Rhys let out a heavy sigh before placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder, “Let’s go. I want to deal with these females myself.” Azriel nodded at his brothers words and there movements were halted.

“Do you want me to come?” Feyre asked, stepping over broken chairs and around puddles to reach them.

Rhys’ eyes softened as he took in his worried mate, her wide eyes scanning the scene for the hundredth time. “No, stay here. Do what you can to help and try to comfort Mor… and Rita.” His eyes danced over to Morrigan who was walking around the hall waving her hands and still screaming, she looked more distressed than Rita did. Feyre nodded and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek, offering Az a supportive smile before making her way to Mor. With that the men shared a determined look before exiting the hall and making their way to the station.

At this point I was hitting my head against the cold wall repeatedly, not hard enough to hurt myself but enough to drown out the nagging from the cell next to mine.

The crazed female, Gala, had woken up and immediately began screeching. She pulled and tugged on the cage door and verbally assaulted any officer who passed. Her attention eventually shifted and she was now honed in on me.

“You selfish bitch! You couldn’t just let me have one night. One peaceful night without your presence! You had to show up and ruin everything! And now, I’m locked in a cage like some wild animal because you can’t control yourself!”

I didn’t want to, but I snapped, “You are a wild animal! I’m the one who doesn’t deserve to be locked up! You might be too dense to remember but you attacked me, I didn’t even know you were there!”

Gala began screeching again claiming that I was put here to ruin her life and I can’t help but indulged in her childish behavior. Something about this female irked me to my core and soon I was partaking in the screaming match through the bars.

The officer was who was unlucky enough to have his desk placed closest to the holding cells stood up so quick his chair fell over. He whipped around and glared with bloodshot eyes, “Shut up! Both of you! Or I’m adding disorderly conduct to your already long lists.”

Gala scoffed at that and I mimicked the sound, “Once again,” I said exasperated, “she started it!” The officer didn’t say anything else but a pointed finger came through the bars. His finger shook with his barely contained rage before he looked to Gala who was mumbling about police incompetence and gave her a finger as well. He turned around and quietly picked up his chair before going back to the gargantuan stack of papers on his desk.

After sitting back down I hit my head against the wall one last time shaking my head. All of the other ways the night could’ve ended mocked me as I closed my eyes.

“Don’t look so forlorn, not when it’s your fault,” Gala was determined to keep the argument going as she harshly whispered into my cell. She had her face squished between bars as she glared at me and continued her verbal lashing.

I counted my deep breaths as I tried to control the urge to reach through the bars and wring her neck. Images of me slamming her face into the bars repeatedly was my only solace as I tuned out her low shrieking. Even when she whispers she’s still incredibly annoying.

The venom kept spewing from her mouth until the same officer that brought me in came and unlocked my cell, I shot up and prayed for freedom. He unlocked Gala’s cell too and had the mind to hold her arm, “There’s someone here to see you two,” his tone was borderline teasing and he led us away from all the desks. “He says he wants to handle this himself.”

I followed quietly behind as nerves overtook my body, was it the police chief? Was someone in Rita’s family a judge who wanted to dish out the worst punishment they could? Cold sweat threatened my brow as we made our way into a private office.

Gala was shoved into a leather chair and I stumbled into my own. The magical binds on my wrists made it hard to sit comfortably and I shifted around while the leather squeaked. The officer closed the door with a smile and at that Gala turned in her chair, glaring.

“Can you stop? Even your shifting is annoying me.”

“I’m annoying you?” I felt blood rush back to my face for the umpteenth time, “Well imagine how I felt when you grabbed my hair and started scratching my face!” Your voices were low but the venom was still there.

“Don’t act like you didn’t have it coming. You go out of your way to ruin my life any chance you get, showing up at Rita’s tonight… I know what you’re trying to do.”

My eyes widened and realization hit me, “Your crazy. You’re just fucking crazy.” That was the only answer. Gala was out of her fucking mind, that’s why even when I breathe she cries abuse.

The word crazy seemed to spark something and the screaming match started up again, this time in a lower tone. Something about the formidable air in the office kept us from getting too loud; but you can still scream a whisper.

I couldn’t even hear what she was saying over my own words but I knew it was bullshit so I continued to say all of the nasty things that popped into my head.

Our voices were haulted when a cool black mist came over the room, obstructing everything. I couldn’t see an inch in front of me as darkness encompassed the room and my entire body. It wasn’t mist, it was shadow, and it clung to me like a second skin. The anger was replaced by fear as I tried to determine what was happening, what had stolen my sight and dropped the rooms degree.

Eventually the shadow cleared and suddenly someone was on the other side of the desk, two someone’s.

The High Lord of the Night Court and his Spymaster. A shiver ran down my spine as I felt the power rolling off them in waves, pushing me further into the chair. They were the last people I expected to see, and the last people I wanted to deal with. There stoney expressions conveyed the anger that was rippling through them.

Rhysand sat poised in the large chair, narrowed eyes studying me and Gala while Azriel stood behind him, arms crossed over his chest with an emotionless face.

Normally I would drool at the sight. Two of the three most handsome men in Velaris, staring me down. Rhys’ perfectly carved face set to impose intimidation and Azriel… I’d seen the spymaster a few times in passing, but seeing him up close was a different story.

His high cheekbones that contoured into a perfect jaw, his Nubian nose that sat perfectly straight above plump lips, hazel eyes that shone through shadows, and a low taper fade that danced across his forehead lovingly. He was the embodiment of beauty, perfection in fae form, awe personified. I knew I should be scared, shaking where I sat, but something in the hazel warmed me, soothed me. I forced myself to look at Rhysand so I could have the right mind of being scared, and it worked.

He stared at us for a few minutes and the tension in the air grew, Gala was crazy but no crazy enough to lash out in front of her high lord, not yet at least. We both sat uncomfortably in the silence and now it was her leather chairs turn to squeak.

“So,” Rhys began, picking up the paper that was laid in front of him and looking it over, “Disturbing the peace, public intoxication, assault, aggravated assault, battery, criminal mischief, theft, resisting arrest, evading arrest, assault of an officer, intentional infliction of emotional distress, reckless endangerment, disorderly conduct, obstruction of justice, trespassing, vandalism, and last but not least hate crimes.” He laid down the paper and I couldn’t help but gape at the list he rattled off, there is no way I was being charged with all of that. Especially not the assaulting an officer or evading arrest, I know that was Gala but hate crimes? They can’t possibly believe I fought her because she is a lesser fae.

“This is quite the list you’ve racked up,” he spoke again his eyes zeroing in on me. I just looked down, ashamed. I wished my power was to reverse time. I would’ve never stepped foot into Rita’s if I knew it would land me here, a meeting with my high lord who seemed determined to dish out terrible punishment. “Do you have anything to say for yourselves.”

I just shook my head, finding my glittery heels very interesting.

“I do,” Gala spoke up, my head snapped to her and I saw a disgusting determination on her face. “I shouldn’t be here! I should be getting medical attention, therapy, a protection detail! I am clearly the victim here!”

I knew it didn’t help my case but I couldn’t help my eye roll. By the looks of it, I was the one in the wrong. I had a couple marks on my face that probably wouldn’t bruise as well as minor scratches around my eyes. Gala on the other hand, had bruises and cuts all over her exposed lilac skin. Her silver eyes were bloodshot and one was swollen with green and dark blue hues, a cut lip, and a nose that suffered a gnarly break.

This was bad.

“Alright…” Rhys started slowly before glancing at the paper once more, “Gala is it?” She nodded fervently, “Since you’re the only one with something to say… tell me what happened. And don’t lie to me.”

Gala took a shaky breath and I almost groaned at her theatrics, “I have been so stressed, you know, I work really hard, with children, not easy work. But I decided to go to Rita’s, grab a drink. I’m a grown woman, you know, I wanted to let off some steam. Then she,” she pointed a crooked finger in my direction as she had some how shimmed her bound hand in front of her. As I looked I wondered if it was always like that or if it was crooked because I broke it. “She followed me there. She’s obsessed with me, you know, always doing whatever she can to make my life hard. She’s my neighbor, you know. always pestering me and my pets and plants. She’s unrelenting.”

I made a noise somewhere between a scoff and a gasp, if anyone was unrelenting it was her. Rhys sent me a harsh glare and the shadowsinger stepped forward, a warning.

I slunk back into my chair and I’ve never seen Gala look so happy.

“Well she followed me to Rita’s, and I didn’t feel safe. I mean she’s always sneaking around doing things she’s not supposed to, you know. As a matter of fact she has- well had- a baby hippogriff. Poor thing didn’t survive, she probably killed it. But those creatures are illegal in this court, you know,” Rhys nodded and hummed along, I just threw my head back on the chair and stared at the ceiling. I’m going to rot in jail.

“Anyways so she was being unruly and loud and that dress, I swear this girl would do anything for some attention. Well I went over there to ask her to quiet down, I wasn’t the only one getting annoyed with her, you know. But when I touched her shoulder she turned around and started screaming, I put my hands up because I didn’t want her to hurt me or anything, you know. She just lost it, screaming, hitting, it was absolutely insane.

She picked up a chair and whacked me. She threw some glass at me and tackled me into the shards. She threw me through a wall! This woman is a danger to our city! A danger to the night court- hel- a danger to all of Prythian! This woman belongs in a cell with no way out!”

By the end of Gala’s tale I couldn’t help but stare, my mouth was practically on the floor. He explicitly told her not to lie and yet she had the gall to do it anyway. If I wasn’t facing persecution from the most powerful man alive I would’ve gave her another black eye.

Rhys hummed, processing the story, his violet eyes turned to me. They were swimming with contempt and I wanted a hole to open up and swallow me. I forced tears to the back of my eyes knowing tears would only egg Gala on. “Still having nothing to say?” His voice was deathly calm.

“Yes- no!” I cursed the nerves that had my brain scrambled, I needed to calm down before I made things worse for myself. I took a deep breath before looking up again, my eyes caught Azriel and for a brief second something flashed across his face. His eyes got a far off look that matched the high lords. The conversation that happened between them was brief and when the high lord zeroed in on me I felt like the decision was made before I could even speak. I was guilty.

“I did hurt her- bad. But, I didn’t start it. I swear I was at Rita’s first, I didn’t even know she was there. I was drinking with my friends and this guy was looking at me, and I was looking at him, and then well we were looking at each other so I didn’t even notice when she came up to me, not until she tapped me on the shoulder. She was yelling about my dress, calling me horrible names. At that point the dude had walked away so I was already pissed when I told her ‘I’m not doin this with you tonight’ and when I turned around she grabbed my hair. Yanked me down to her level and bop bop!” I jerked my shoulder to try and insinuate a punch, “she was doing my head in and so I grabbed her wrist and tried to remove her from my hair and when I turned she started scratching at my eyes-“

“Liar!” Gala stood up and screamed at me.

“No! It’s true and you fucking know it,” I hissed at her. She opened her mouth to yell again but words didn’t come out when Rhys let out a low growl, accompanied by an unmistakable look. She was receiving the same the same warning I got earlier.

Rhys nodded at me and I continued, “she scratched my eyes and I shoved her off of me, that was when she fell into the table. My powers are… interesting so the table broke when I pushed her into it. She got up pretty quick after that, she grabbed a chair and started running towards me with it so I grabbed it before it hit me and I hit her with it. Mind you I had a couple shots in me so I was ready, I turned the chair on her and broke it over her. I thought that would be enough but she grabbed a glass from the table and threw it at me. I know those glasses hit some other people but I think when she missed me it upset her because she was screamed and ran at me-

“You threw the glass at me! I was screaming running away!”

It was my turn to growl at Gala, she only sneered before shutting up again. “She ran at me and I dodged her and she ran into another table, that’s how the second table broke. So I grabbed a bottle off the bar and when she came at me again I broke it, on her face. I really thought she would stop after that but she grabbed a tray off the bar that was full of glasses and threw that at me, some of it hit me and so I threw another chair at her. She was under the chair and tackled me to the floor, scratching at my face again. I hit her and it knocked her off of me, she grabbed the broken bottle and she looked like she would kill me so… well I picked her up and threw her. That’s what put the whole in the wall, and really, that’s when I thought she was done for real.

So I turn around and go to grab my things because I’m trying to leave but she grabbes one of those big bottles from behind the bar and threw it.”

“Bitch!” Gala was up again this time moving for my face, “You stupid whore! You know-“ her voice was cut off when the ground beneath her feet began to shake, the whole office was shaking.

Rhysand braced his hands on the desk and glared at Gala, “We heard your story, now I want to hear hers. If you interrupted a fourth time… you will regret it.” Galas eyes were wide and she was smart enough to look afraid. She just nodded dumbly before sitting down, her silver eyes darting between the angry high lord and the unyielding spymaster. I waited for Rhys to nod again before continuing.

“It hit my head and at that point, it wasn’t about defending myself, I just wanted to to beat her ass. So yes I did run at her and slammed her into a table, kinda roughly so that’s how the third table and those chairs broke. Anyway so yea, I get to her and that’s when I just started hitting her, some guy tried to pull me off but I think I hit him. I really do feel bad about that, I’ll pay for whatever medical treatment he receives. Anyways that’s when the cops dragged me off of her, three of them I think, they detained me and when they went to try and detain her she freaked. Started fighting the officers, she threw another bottle at the short one and they dragged both of us out. She fought them the whole time, kicking and screaming at the cops.”

When I finished the high lord just stared face still blank, I felt like I needed to explain more, pleade my case further. But he spoke before I could, “So you guys are neighbors?”

“Yes!” Me and Gala both said at the same time, the dirty look we gave each other also happened at the same time.

“Yes,” I repeated, “She has hated me ever since I moved in. Actually I’m pretty sure she’s the one who killed my hippogriff.”

Gala snorted, “I wouldn’t go near that thing with a ten foot pole! They’re dangerous creatures and they’re illegal here you know!”

“Yes, I know,” I mocked her and the fire that was in her eyes in, Rita’s returned.

Gala jumped up to scream, “You insolent bitch! You think you’re above everyone but you ruin lives for fun!”

“How did I ruin your life?!” I was standing now too, “I never did anything to you!”

“Lies!” She screeched, “you know exactly what you did! Sneaking around my garden when I’m not home!”

I, once again, gaped at her. “Seriously? That’s what this is about!? Because I watered you plants when you were out of town?!”

“Trespassing!” If my hands were able to I would’ve covered my ears, her tone was dangerously high. “You trespassed on my property! Not to mention you tried to steal my cat, probably to feed it to you hippogriff!”

“What?!” The whole situation was utterly insane to me, “I was trying to be a good neighbor! And your cat followed me home. Probably to get away from you.”

Gala was seething, “You don’t talk about my cat! You stole him after you broke in! Broke into my garden and ruined my work!”

A dark chuckle fell from my lips, “I ruined your work by keeping your plants alive? You’re fucking crazy,” I turned to the high lord to try and find some support, “You hear this? She’s fucking crazy!”

“I’m going to fucking kill you!” Gala screamed as she shook from rage.

“Come on bitch. I’ll beat your ass- again!” She ran at me only to hit an invisible wall and falling onto her behind with no way to brace herself.

“Enough!” Rhys voice was commanding now and the primal part of me coward at the sound. He was visibly angry. “This all started over a garden?” His voice held an incredulous tone and I couldn’t blame him, the story was ridiculous.

“It started before the garden, she’s had something against me since ever I moved in.” My voice was calm as I spoke, I didn’t want to anger him more.

Gala on the other hand didn’t seem to care much, she rose from the floor before continuing her rampage, “She moved into my quiet neighborhood, and my life has been hel ever since! Always singing loudly in the morning. Having friends over at night. Prancing around in skimpy dresses. Growing plants that I haven’t been able to grow just to rub it in my face! You should see it, she’s always flicking her perfect hair and smiling at everyone who looks at her. I can’t stand it! All the males coming to her doorstep trying to be with her, females flocking to gain a friendship with her. In all my years no one has ever tried to befriend me! I hate how everyone loves her! I hate it! And I hate her!”

I just blinked at Galas out burst and suddenly everything clicked. She was jealous of me. I stepped back and slumped into the chair at my knees. I just shook my head, all of this over some petty insecurities.

“Nell!” Rhys called and the officer that escorted us poked his head in, “Can you escort Y/n here back to her holding cell? I’d like to speak with Gala in private.” Nell just nodded, he moved towards me but I stood up and met him half way. All the anger was lost to me as I followed him all the way to the back of the station.

I sat down in my cell and my eyes were trained on the floor, the tears I was holding back finally found there way out. Nell locked the door and when I didn’t hear him walk away I looked up. “I heard everything, and off the record,” he leaned in, “I think she’s crazy too.”

I offered him a sad smile before looking back down. She was crazy but she was hurting, I knew her jealousy wasn’t my fault but I couldn’t help but feel guilty. I was trying to be helpful, living my life as happily as possible but for some twisted reason I was hurting her. Tears continued to fall until a small whisper of a shadow nuzzled my face and wiped them away.

The entire scene that played out in front of the brothers was no less than absurd. Almost comical, Rhys might have laughed if he wasn’t playing the role of the dutiful high lord. But the most interesting part was what Azriel had whispered in his mind. The girl, the main perpetrator, was his mate.

The second your voice hit his ears, Azriel almost fell to his knees. Your voice was melodic, soft and sweet, reminiscent of a summer breeze. The only thing he could do was petrify himself, to keep from falling in front of you, kissing your minor injuries, and tearing the throat out of the female who spoke ill of you.

He saw the tears threatening your eyes as you stood up to move out of the room. Every part of his body screamed at him to comfort you, hold you, inform you that you aren’t responsible for another fae’s bitterness.

When you left Rhys interrogated Gala further, listening to her wild tales of all the times you did something terrible. It truly sounded like you were just living your life and for some reason she hated that. She called you names, names that threatened Azriels resolution. He wanted to rip the spiteful bitch to shreds and finish what you started. He couldn’t lie, he felt some sick pride while listening to your side of the story. He knew if he was there things would’ve ended much worse for her.

Rhysand listened diligently, nodding and humming as Gala went on. Azriel slightly resented his brother for not striking her down where she sat. Rhys eventually cleared his throat, indicating that he was ready to speak. “So Gala, do you remember the first thing I said to you?” She nodded dutifully, “When I told you not to lie to me?” She nodded again, more unsure this time. Rhys just gave her a saccharine grin, “You wouldn’t mind if I checked, would you?”

“I- well-“ she shifted under the intensity of the stares, “It’s just my thoughts are my own, you know… I would like to keep it that way.” Her confidence wavered and suddenly she was unable to make eye contact.

Rhys chuckled lowly, “Look Gala, I just want to help. That- that wretch has made you suffer enough. Let me in; and I’ll take care of all of it.”

A deep growl came from Azriel his tight grip on his shadows loosened, causing them to swirl around him menacingly. Rhys knew the reaction was for him, he would react the same to hear his brother speak such words about Feyre. Galas eyes widened, taking the scene as a threat to her. She nodded lamely and with permission Rhys slipped into her mind.

Azriel tried to reign in his shadows, struggling against their will, it wasn’t until they relayed your voice he relaxed. They carried soft whispers to his ear and a deep breath pushed from his mouth at the sound.

I sat in the cell watching the lone shadow dance around for me, it seemed it was attempting to cheer me up. I chuckled lightly at its antics. An officer walked past the cell and it darted into my hair, hiding. This naughty shadow wasn’t meant to be here, I wonder if my power is what called it or if it came on its own free will. I decided to channel my power, hone it in on the male who the shadow belonged to. After a few seconds of concentration, I was connected.

“Hi,” I whispered and it circled my head, running across my face before landing on my knee.

Hello, hello, it whispered back. Beautiful, so so beautiful.

I laughed airily, “Thank you, so are you.” The shadow whirled around at the compliment, happy to hear praises. “Listen, I’m innocent. You have to believe me, I didn’t start this. I didn’t do anything to her.”

Innocent, innocent, it chanted and I let out a breath. The shadow believed me, I wondered if it was a reflection of its master or if it had its own will.

“Can you tell your master?” I questioned, leaning down, “Can you convince him?”

He’s here, it whispered back and I snapped my neck up to find none other than Azriel. He was leaning against the bars giving me a devilish smirk. He looked beautiful, his tan arms crossed showing off rippling muscles as his eyes glanced over me lazily. I pushed my thighs together, feeling hot under his gaze.

He wants you too, the naughty little shadow whispered, causing a blush to creep up my cheeks as I looked away.

He chuckled lowly as he turned to face me completely, his forearm met the bar above his head as he leaned in. The ravishing sight had me licking my lips, something his smirk told me he caught.

“Cool power,” he mused, his eyes shone with mischief as he held my gaze.

Busted, the shadow whispered and I rolled my eyes at it.

“Very cool, and very useful.” My voice was confident despite the shaking under my skin.

He huffed a laugh before leaning back and crossing his arm over his chest once more. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.

He does, the shadow outed him and it was my turn to laugh.

“I’m guessing that’s where you got the strength from, you channeled someone else’s power to throw that poor female into a wall.”

“Oh please,” it was my turn to lean back. I crossed my legs slowly and I bit my lip as his eyes tracked the movement. “That bitch had it coming.”

“Ooo,” he purred and the warmth between my legs spread to the rest of my body, “Naughty little girl, don’t you know? Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.” His head cocked to the side and I mimicked his movement, a smirk of my own forming. “Bad girls need punished.”

I slowly uncrossed my legs and pushed myself up, moving towards him. I was hot, burning under his gaze. Everything tingled as gave into some intrinsic need that command I be closer to him. I pushed my chest against the bars and my low cut dress showed off my cleavage. His eyes lowered to exactly where I knew they would. The shadow danced excitedly through my hair as if it too loved our proximity.

“And will you be personally handing out my punishment?” I made my voice sickly sweet, conveying an inappropriate innocence. I looked up at him through my eyelashes and batted them sweetly.

A low rumble left his chest and I hummed at the sound. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

Leaning in he whispered, “I don’t think anyone else would do it properly.” His eyes raked the entirety of my body and I thanked the mother for putting on my most flattering dress. The double entendre coupled with his hazy eyes had me ready to tear apart the steel and pounce.

“Promise?”

His scared had gripped the bar so tight his knuckles turned white. Looks like I’m not the only one ready to tear through steal.

Suddenly he leaned back and crossed his arms again, smirk still evident. A second later Rhysand and officer Nell were at the cell door, and Rhys was looking at me with a pleased look that only garnered confusion.

“Where’s Gala?” I looked around but she wasn’t in the station and I didn’t see her exit the office.

“Gala’s not going to be a problem for you anymore,” the simplicity in his words was slightly troubling. I didn’t want anything bad to happen to Gala, not anymore at least. I tilted my head and raised an eyebrow waiting for an answer. Rhys noted my concern, “Nothing bad. But I looked through some of her memories and- what she felt for you, it was completely irrational. She needs help so we’re going to get her some. Very far away.”

I let out a breath which was followed by an airy chuckle. I leaned my head against the bar and my chuckle turned into a full belly laugh. “Thank gods, she was fucking crazy.”

Rhys smiled as he waved his hand and my magical bonds fell. My hands wrapped around my own wrists soothingly and I stepped out of the now open door. “There’s still the issue of all the damage Rita’s suffered,” Rhys cocked his brow, interested in what I might say to that.

“Whatever it is, I’ll pay it,” I made hands that conveyed that of a promise.

“The damage reports come to around 4,090 gold marks,” officer Nell responded, his coy smile ever prevalent. I made an O shape with my mouth and rocked on my heels back and forth. That’s about 6 paychecks, without factoring the need to pay rent or buy food.

“I’ll pay it,” Azriel said simply. I whipped my head around to look at him, on the cusp of disagreeing. “Well you’ll pay it, it’ll come out of your check; when you come work for us.”

My shock was evident on my face and my mouth opened and closed lamely before I mustered up a “What?”

“Your powers,” he clicked his tongue as he stepped next to me, close enough for our arms to brush. “They could come in handy, far more handy for us than they do at some desk job.”

I shook my head as I processed everything. How did Azriel know where I worked? I suppose that’s dumb, he’s a spymaster and I told the police earlier. But was he really able to offer me a job, on Rhysands court?

I looked to my high lord for confirmation and he just smiled, “Way more handy than having you behind a desk,” he shoved his hands in his pocket with a shrug, “plus we already know you can fight.”

I laughed at that and my hand met my head as I mulled it over, I would be stupid not to accept. I knew my powers were unique and I always wanted to do more, I just never knew where to start. “Sure, I never liked my job anyway.” I tried to play it off cool but my soul was bouncing on the inside. The sneaky shadow seemed happy too as it whirled around my head and down through my fingers.

“Sounds good,” Rhys clapped and turned to walk with Nell, “Oh,” he looked over his shoulder, “Be sure to apologize to Rita.”

I brought my hand to my forehead offering a salute, “Yes sir!” He smiled before placing a gentle hand on Nell’s shoulder and walking away.

A giggle stole from my mouth as I clapped my hands over my heart and turned to Azriel, he had a pleased look on his face. I decided in that moment I would do anything to keep it there. “Well, that all worked out nicely.”

“Lucky you,” he purred, before tilting his head down and whispering, “Not lucky enough to escape your punishment though.”

The darkness returned to his eyes and my whole body lurched, begging to be punished right here, in front of the whole station.

I hummed as I wrapped my hands around his strong forearm, pushing onto my tiptoes and leaning into his ear. “Don’t hold out on me shadowsinger.” I giggled as I pulled back and bounced towards the door. On my way out I felt some more shadows, sneaking up and brushing against my thighs before coming up to whisper to me.

Bad, bad girl, they said. I just smirked as I pushed out of the door into daybreak. Who knew getting arrested could be so exciting.

A/N: I didn’t plan on writing this but I got the idea and since it’s my day off I went for it :p

If you guys like it I would be sooo down to do a part 2??? Maybe I’ll be brave enough to make a smutty 2 :D

Anywhooo my requests are always open so don’t be shy ;)

As always, if you made it this far… I LOVE YOU<3<3

Masterlist

563 notes · View notes

illyrianbitch · 4 months

Text

Death and His Reaper

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: After suffering a devastating injury in battle, Azriel finds himself on the brink of life and death where he meets you, The Mother's reaper.

Warnings: angsty fluff?, brief mentions of battle and injury, lil convos about life and its meaning, Azriel without his shadows, lowk love at first sight

Word Count: 13k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Azriel could feel the hot, metallic taste of blood filling his mouth, the sharp sting of pain shooting through his body with each ragged breath. A pounding, almost unbearable, pain in his head consumed him, a relentless throb that pulsed with every beat of his heart– each pulse sending waves of nausea washing over him. He tried to move, to shift away from the agony, but his limbs felt like stone, heavy and unresponsive. His muscles screamed in protest with every attempt to shift position, every movement met with waves of agony that radiated through his battered form.

Dark spots filled his vision as the ringing in his ears grew louder. Everything was fuzzy, hazy, blurs of movement and moving color. Azriel could hear sounds around him. Loud sounds, piercing sounds. Distantly, he could make out what he assumed were screams. He wasn’t sure though, and wasn't able to think about it too hard. His shadows were whispering to him, louder and louder, but he couldn’t hear them. The sound rattled in his brain as he blinked. Once. Twice. His vision became more unfocussed.

With a final, shuddering breath, the world dissolved into darkness.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

There was a humming in his ear when Azriel came to, a light vibration he wasn’t familiar with. The ache in his body grew duller with every blink— his eyelids still heavy with pain, or exhaustion, he wasn’t quite sure. One of the same, he guessed. He let a moment pass, taking deep breaths as he oriented himself. He laid in a bed, soft white sheets placed upon him gingerly. Had Feyre tucked him in? He thought for a moment. Why would Feyre tuck him in?

Another moment passed. Azriel became aware of his clothing, his body still strapped in his illyrian leathers— leathers that were eerily clean. No smudges, no stains. Pushing himself upright, Azriel glanced around the room, his movements slow and unsteady. There was no one else in sight, no familiar faces to provide him with answers. He frowned, his brows knitting together in a puzzled expression. With a hesitant sigh, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, his muscles protesting at the sudden movement. He wavered for a moment, grasping for balance, before taking a cautious step forward.

He casted a casual glance towards the bed, rubbing his hands across his face in exhaustion as made a move towards the door, his thoughts scattered and disjointed. But then he stilled, his head quickly snapping back. Instead of an empty bed, Azriel's gaze fell upon his own body, lying prone and unmoving— paled, almost colorless, wings hanging limply at his sides. He blinked, a flicker of confusion and fear knitting his brows as he registered the scene before him.

“Quite strange, isn’t it?”

Azriel whipped his head around, his hand instinctively reaching for a dagger at his hip that he failed to find. His wings flared out angrily, fully extended with curled ends, each single claw at the apex poised and ready to strike. His eyes were wide as they focused on you.

You let out a quiet laugh, a gentle sound that caressed him like a comforting hand. He felt himself falter, a sense of confusion washing over him. Yet, within that confusion was a warmth that spread through him at your presence, at your voice— soft, like a faint ray of sunlight breaking through a storm cloud.

He fought the sudden urge to stand down, an odd sense of safety wrapping around him, unnerving him with the ease in which it filled him. He struggled back, pushing the feeling away. Stay guarded, stay ready, you are a threat. Yet even in his attempts, he recognized a slight release in the tension surrounding his shoulders, a small release in the stance of his wings– decisions he hadn’t consciously made. With his eyes still trained on you, his hand searched the side of his thigh, his hip, the backside of his waistband. He patted frantically, fingers itching to find a form of protection. When his search came up empty once more, he settled for holding his other hand out towards you in warning, his palm facing you as his body fell into a defensive stance. The blue siphon on his hand glowed aggressively.

The corners of your mouth tilted into a small smile. “You do that everytime.”

Azriel didn’t return the gesture. Instead, he narrowed his eyes as he properly took you in. He scanned your body; the way you stood comfortably in front of him, your hands clasped together, placed delicately in front of your waist. It almost hurt to look at you, he observed. He had to squint to make out your features. And when he did, he was hit with one thought: you were beautiful.

He cursed himself for recognizing it, for letting the thought echo in his head. You were a threat, he reminded himself, a stranger in his home. He was confused, disoriented, and yet you stood in front of him, presence dripping in a calm ease. You stared at him with a look he couldn’t discern, not when his mind was a muddled, confused, blurry mess. But the way you were looking, so expectant, so patient– it made him slightly nauseated.

“Who are you?” Azriel’s voice was loud and rough. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, a twitch in his wings, still extended wide. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Azriel scrambled for words, his head aching as he searched it for answers, for explanations. His confusion exposed him in a way that made him feel naked— at risk. None of it was right, not him standing over his own body, not him conversing with, what might possibly be, the most gorgeous female he’d ever seen, not the empty room around him. Was he dreaming? Was he being tortured?

You slowly lifted your hands in defense, remaining careful of how fast your movements were. “I’m not here to cause you any harm.”

A skeptical expression crossed his face. “Then why are you here?” He eyed you intently, his gaze scanning you as if sizing up a potential threat. His outstretched hand stayed unmoving, still on the defense. But you recognized a subtle shift in his posture, a slight calm flickering in his moving eyes.

Azriel was always the more difficult of the three to soothe. You had noticed this the last time, his wings shredded with ash arrows, his blood coating the floors beneath him. Even then, even through the exhaustion that bled into his unconscious mind– into his soul– he had fought you, acknowledged you with apprehension and distrust. You never blamed him, though. You understood. You would be fearful, confused, and defensive, too.

“I’m here to help you.”

Your voice was lower now than it was before. A soft murmur. He recognized the cadence, the words. It felt like a voice he’d heard before but couldn’t quite place.

"Who are you?" Azriel demanded as he frantically looked between his own body and you. He felt a sense of fear he wasn't accustomed to, a worry that either body would vanish were he to take his eyes away for too long. "What the hell is going on?"

You took a step forward as he turned to look upon his body, reaching an arm out to touch him, to begin to explain, when his head swiftly turned back to you. Azriel recoiled, taking a step away from you, his eyes scanning you again— wide and wild. There was a rustle as his wings mirrored his actions, still extended aggressively, unmoving. You quickly stilled, realizing your mistake of initiating contact too soon. Your brows furrowed as you gave him an apologetic smile. You took a step back, settling to stand a bit further from him than you were before.

Hazel eyes watched your every movement, his body tense as you fixed yourself into place, standing in front of him with the small smile still on your face– it reeked of pity, he thought. It didn’t feel right. No matter where he was, or who you were, he wasn’t supposed to be this off guard, this jumpy.

His face fell as the realization hit him: he couldn't feel them. His companions, his protectors, his shadows– there were no whisperings in his ear, no cool trail as they snaked around his body. He hadn’t noticed before, too distracted by you, by his lifeless form. The absence of his shadows explained this sudden vulnerability– he was receiving no information on you. No intel about who you were, what weapons you may have, who was around to witness. As quick as the realization settled into his stomach, Azriel called out to them. He dropped one of his hands lower as if to make it easier for them to find him, to reach him, but nothing came. No cool touch on his body, no whispers. Instead, silence enveloped him as he took notice of motion around him, black wisps of smoke scattered throughout the room.

You watched his movements, watched as he examined himself, as he craned his head to scan his body. "They can sense you," you explained, gesturing towards the shadows that seemed to be bouncing around, slithering on the ground like they were blind and confused. Some rested on his unmoving body, some around his feet, but not quite on him. His wings began to retract and slump as Azriel’s face slightly fell, his mouth open and brows furrowed.

He looked down, observing his hands tentatively. “Why aren’t they with me?” Azriel asked. His voice was slightly strained. He didn’t look up at you, his vision trained to his scarred hands, to the floor below him where shadows circled aimlessly. He felt an ache in his heart, a longing to be covered again, to be with them, to be protected. He felt too naked, stripped of every layer that protected him— no shadows, no intel, bare before you.

“Your shadows are sentient,” you explained, “they don’t die with you.”

His head snapped up, hazel eyes meeting yours instantly, widened with disbelief. "Die?" he repeated, his eyes scanning yours. "What do you mean die?"

In a slight moment of shock, Azriel took an unconscious step forward. His body tensed, and you watched as the rest of his frame followed suit, the muscles in his jaw clenching. There was an evident unease in his face, tension etched into his features.

You maintained a stillness, a deliberate choice not to intrude further, to remain respectful of his boundaries. Your gaze held a mixture of understanding and patience, offering him a moment to process the information without feeling overwhelmed. Then, you softly asked, “Where do you think you are, Azriel?”

His name sounded foreign on your tongue but he didn’t have the space to acknowledge it, instead rummaging through his other thoughts. He blinked, taking in your question. A dull ache in his head creeped up on him, but your voice soothed it instantly— soft, comforting.

"I... I don't know," he stammered, voice low and quiet, void of any assertion it held moments prior. His eyes darted back and forth, attempting to piece together fragments of memory. His wings now mirrored his defeated state– limp and listless, curled in, the membrane hanging dejectedly.

Sensing his growing distress, you adjusted your approach. "What is the last thing you remember?"

Your voice, smooth like honey and warm like tea, flowed through him. For a moment, he allowed it to sit, allowed it to spread, letting it calm him in a way that he was fighting before.

"I…" Azriel muttered to himself. Slowly, fragments of memory began to resurface, faint but discernible. He looked back at his body, examining it as if trying to find the missing pieces, memories popping up like distant echoes, flashing in the corners of his brain. The ache was back, slowly spreading throughout his head. “I was fighting.”

He looked back over his shoulder, twisting his body to peer at where his physical body lay in the bed, the colors of the room now registering with a strange clarity. Tandem disembodied flashbacks surged through his mind—flashes of fighting, the metallic taste of blood on his tongue, and the cacophony of clashing weapons. Each image hit him like a sudden jolt, disjointed and chaotic.

In one fragment, he could almost feel the weight of a blade in his hand, the strain of muscles as he swung it in a frenzied dance. Another flash brought back the distant echoes of shouted commands, the clash of metal on metal, and the acrid scent of sweat and blood lingering in the air. The blurry memories continued, each scene disconnected yet vivid in its brutality. He shivered as the ghost of each sensation trailed his body, a twitch in his wings as he recalled the injuries they had sustained.

Then, a searing pain in his head, a sharp and sudden ache that brought him to his knees in his mind's eye. The pain lingered in his skull like a phantom sensation, and with it, a realization began to form. His eyes met yours with a cold, distant understanding. A wave of sadness hit you.

"I'm dead,” he stated, his voice quiet, “Aren't I?"

A sympathetic smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Not yet," you clarified, taking a step to move closer, the movement slow and deliberate. "You're in between."

"In between? In between where?"

You took a moment to look at him, your gaze lingering on his face. His eyes were darker now, troubled, as he stared back at you. “Your body,” You started, gesturing towards his sleeping form to guide his attention back to where it lay, “It's still fighting.”

Azriel nodded slowly, taking in each of your words, digesting them, letting them sit. There was a shift in his expression—a solemn understanding replacing the earlier confusion he once held. You continued.

"Madja, she's a brilliant healer. She has brought back many from this same brink."

When Azriel looked back at you, you shifted your focus to his head, motioning with a gentle sweep of your hand, then directed your fingers towards your own temple. "And your mind," You said, "it's fighting too."

Azriel frowned. He was a soldier. He sustained many injuries before, had fought in battles that left him with gaping wounds, with his organs rearranged. This was nothing new— so why was this different? Had he always been out this long?

You watched him intently, observing the way his thoughts seemed to churn beneath the surface, how he began to blink rapidly, how his brow furrowed. He was still confused– you could feel it. You let out a small sigh, running your eyes across his face.

"The injury you sustained was worse than any you've ever had," you explained, your voice steady. Flashes of his memories interjected—him fighting, soaring into the air only to be shot down, engaging in combat once again, his head colliding with something hard, the sickening sound of a crunch. "Not only to your body but to your head. You cracked your skull open completely, Azriel. The trauma of the infliction itself… well, let's say it damaged your brain. Heavily."

As Azriel looked directly at you, his hazel eyes glazed over with deep contemplation. He nodded absentmindedly, "Okay.” He said. He looked over to his unmoving form again.

With his attention fixated on his proper body, you took the time to observe him more closely, scanning his face and his body, taking in the details of his fighting leathers. Azriel was a vision— your favorite male to visit, your favorite soul to see. You can’t remember the first time you saw him, the first time he laid on a bed, a grasp away from death. You suppose it was centuries ago, when he first became a soldier. But even then, time escaped you.

Your gaze wandered to the wings adorning his back, now freed from their earlier alarmed nature, not fully extended but not fully kept back. You thought back to their wide and impressive extended form, the membrane between each robust wing bearing a faint sheen, casting a subtle shimmer in the ambient light. Even now they were mesmerizing– the leathery texture, the powerful structure, the way they naturally framed his form. The tips of the expansive wings curved slightly, giving Azriel an imposing yet graceful appearance, even among current circumstances. Azriel's voice brought you back to attention.

"So I'm stuck here?"

"For now." You responded, your voice carrying a gentle reassurance. The look on his face, only beginning to finally process his reality, pushed you to postpone any further explanations. Time was not an issue, not now.

"And you are..." Azriel's voice trailed off.

"Y/n," you answered.

He let the name sink in, repeating it with a slow, deliberate pace, "Y/n."

“Yes.” You nodded.

“And you’re here to help me.”

Another nod. “Yes.”

He rolled his shoulders as something that resembled a skeptical scowl slowly made its way through his face. Then, Azriel squinted his eyes at you. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

You couldn't help it—a small laugh escaped you, echoing softly in the room. The sound made Azriel jolt back slightly, caught off guard. Dying it down with a small, genuine smile on your face, you caught Azriel’s uncomfortable gaze, his wings now extended slightly, the corners of his lips downturned in confusion.

"I’m- I’m sorry,” You said, clearing your throat. “It's just... you are curious this time around.”

Azriel's hazel eyes widened in shock, his brows furrowing in confusion. "This– this time around?” His eyes rapidly scanned your face with a deep intensity. Faintly, he recalled your earlier comment, the laugh when you said that he reacted the same way every time. “Have we met before?"

You offered him a small smile as you said, "Many times.”

Azriel let out a deep breath. Here he stood, suspended between life and something else entirely, facing someone who knew him in a way that he couldn’t even remember. A sense of anxiety filled his chest. He wished for his shadows now, for them to wrap themselves around his arms, around his neck, to offer some calm. He searched you for any sign of deception, looked at the way your eyes followed him, the stance that you held. But all he found was a sense of sincerity and tenderness.

“Your family tends to face death a lot more than others in Prythian,” you explained, “You and your brothers especially."

At the mention of his brothers, Azriel's heart dropped, a heaviness settling in his chest. Thoughts of his family rushed in—wondering who had found him, the worry that surely gripped them. He straightened up, a sense of urgency urging him to survey his surroundings. His family… His gaze moved beyond you, taking in the details of the room. It was his guest suite in the River House, the room he’d stay in when he came to visit Rhysand and Feyre, the room they would drag him into when he needed to rest or heal. It was his room. Yet, there were no sounds of people, no familiar voices—just the quiet emptiness that surrounded him, surrounded you both. Surely they would be near him, Azriel thought, Madja at the least.

"Where is everyone?" He asked, still scanning the room. He walked towards the large windows, taking in the nighttime view, gorgeous and still— mountains covered in snow, a city lit by moonlight.

“Here, it's just you," you said gently.

Azriel turned to face you once more, a flicker of sadness crossing his features. He didn’t ask for any further explanation, a sense of exhaustion heavily weighing on him. His eyes bore into yours. "And you. You exist here too.”

“I do.”

He took a step towards you, wings rustling in their position behind his back. Azriel scanned your face, hazel eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity and weariness. He wasn’t afraid of you, didn’t believe you were a threat– not anymore, at least. But you were still here, in this state of existence that only he was in.

“Why?”

The question was pure curiosity, not a hint of distrust or malice within it. You observed him, noting how he seemed to have settled, the tension in his frame easing. Instead, a subtle sadness lingered, a reflection of longing. Azriel loved his family, this much you knew. He was a devoted male, devoted to serving those he loved, devoted to his position, to his duties. Of course he was missing his family. Your heart ached.

"I'm here to help," you assured, "I’m to stay while you heal, or until–"

“Until I stop…” Azriel finished the sentence, a quiet acceptance in his voice. "And then you guide me."

You were taken aback as Azriel's hazel eyes locked onto yours, a moment of realization passing between you. Usually, it was you who revealed your purpose to those you reaped, explaining the meaning of your duties, easing their worries. You blinked, your head tilting back slightly as you clasped your hands together. Azriel continued, stating with a quiet certainty, "You're a reaper."

You nodded, titling your head as you took in his face, his brows slightly knitted. “I am.”

You weren’t supposed to be doing this. In situations like these, where they were stuck between the life before and the life after, you were to leave them in peace– wait until they decided or their body decided for them. It was never intended for you to stay with them during the waiting period, to keep them company. No, this was something you felt inclined to do. You couldn’t leave Azriel if you wanted to, it felt wrong— and you didn’t want to. Not one bit.

"You weren't what I expected," Azriel admitted.

Azriel had a faint idea of your kind, of your duties. He heard accounts of near-death experiences, tales of encountering a radiant light, foggy memories and beliefs of meeting a beautiful entity—whatever that meant. He always wrote them off as distant narratives, existing in the realms of folklore and imagination. He would have never imagined something like you – something so… delicate.

Curiosity lingered in your gaze as you asked, "What did you expect?"

"I don't know," Azriel replied honestly, his head beginning to throb and ache again. A hand instinctively rose to the back of his scalp, fingers rubbing at the tension that surfaced. The ache radiated through his skull as he massaged his hairline. You recognized the discomfort with a small frown, playing with your hands as you observed him for a moment.

"Azriel,” You spoke, drawing his attention back to you, “I'm going to give you some time to process everything. Explore, think. When you're ready, and if you want to, you can find me then."

Azriel looked at you, uncertainty drawn across his features. "How will I know where you are?”

"You’ll know.” A soft smile played on your lips as you reassured him. “Trust me.”

As you left, Azriel took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting the quiet expanse embrace him.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You were right. Azriel knew exactly where to find you. How we knew, he didn’t know. He wasn’t even aware of how he got to you, how he managed to move. One moment he was wandering, taking in the quiet halls of the house, the next he was thinking of you, seeking you out— and then he was here, watching you.

It was dark out still, a fresh night breeze in the air. Azriel stood for a moment, taking in his surroundings—a small clearing nestled between two towering mountains covered in snow. The landscape was rugged, the terrain too harsh to be in the vicinity of Velaris. Somewhere beyond the borders of Illyria, he concluded. He turned his focus back to you. Draped in a simple cream-colored dress, you stood at the edge of the clearing, your silhouette softly illuminated by the glow of the full moon that hung in the sky. The moonlight painted the terrain around you with a soft, silvery hue, casting long shadows that danced across the uneven ground.

“Hi, Azriel.” The words left your mouth before you turned your head to look at him. When your eyes met his, you gave him a smile. He faltered for a moment.

“Hello… Y/n.” He said your name quietly, adding it onto his greeting tentatively, as if he was testing how it felt on his tongue. He liked it, he decided. It tasted sweet.

You turned your head back to the view in front of you, and Azriel took it as an unspoken invitation. Slowly, he found himself walking towards you, the snow crunching beneath his boots. You both stood in silence, and Azriel found a sense of calm rolling through him. Taking a deep breath, he let his wings unfurl slightly, not having noticed the tension they had been carrying, tucked tightly behind him.

Azriel turned to gaze at you. You stood still, eyes trained forward on the view before you. Your focus prompted him to take in the sight once more, bringing his attention back to the vast expanse ahead.

"Where are we?" he asked, his voice low and steady.

It was now your turn to look at him, to observe the side of his face as he looked forward. The faint glow of the moonlight casted shadows on the contours of his face. He looked almost holy, something devout and ethereal. "You don’t recognize it?”

Your question led to a contemplative frown creasing his brow and he turned his head, taking in the soft smile on your face. “Should I?”

You turned your body fully to face him, craning your head to look up at him. There was a subtle shift in his expression as your eyes met. You nodded toward the view, a gentle encouragement.

“Look again.”

And he did.

Then, his gaze softened, a hint of recognition flickering in his eyes. Azriel's shoulders fell, a subtle release of tension, and his wings shuddered softly. "I used to come here," he said quietly, "A long time ago… I used to come here."

His eyes shifted between you and the view. You met his gaze, nodding in silent understanding, leaving a space of silence that invited him to continue talking if he desired to— if he was comfortable.

"I found it flying one night," he continued. His memories now seemed to dance in his mind, distant yet vivid, a time before Amarantha, before Koshei. A faint smile ghosted his lips. “I'd find time between missions to come here and just breathe. Now I could never validate wasting time to be here, doing nothing."

You let out a small hum. “Taking time to breathe is never a waste.”

Azriel turned to look at you. "How did you..."

"Know about this?" you finished for him. He nodded.

You smiled, the expression warm and animated. Holding your arms in front, one hand cradling each elbow, you continued, "I could feel it. Part of our duty," your voice carried a gentle honesty. "The Mother helps us to find your peace."

Azriel's gaze scanned you again, a subtle curiosity in his eyes. His attention shifted to your arms, and then to the snow-covered surroundings. "Are you cold?" he asked, concern lacing his words. Instinctively, he placed a hand on your bicep, but quickly retracted it when he registered the movement.

You kept your gaze locked with his, unfazed. "No," you replied calmly, and then added, "Neither are you."

Azriel blinked, and then he looked down at himself, his eyes scanning his own body, his arms. He wasn’t cold. He thought back to every time he had visited this place, this lookout. Being so high up made the air nippy, made the breeze cold– he always wore an extra layer. But here he stood, alongside you, and all he could feel was a sense of warmth. Interesting. It was all so interesting to him.

Azriel nodded to himself, turning to face forward again. He traced the tops of the snow-covered mountains, the valley below. You remained sideways for a moment, watching him as he processed the image before him. Another moment passed and then you, too, turned to face forward, mirroring his contemplative posture.

“So, what does it all mean?” He asked, his voice a low murmur.

You stilled, rubbing your lips together as you took in his question. You glanced to the side, his eyes still trained before him. It wasn’t the view he was talking about, you knew this. He was asking the question many before him had, wondering about the purpose of life, the answer to their troubles. You thought for a moment, pondering on what to tell him. There were no right responses here— at least, none that you thought would satisfy him. So, you answered from your heart.

“Does it have to mean something?”

Azriel’s head turned to you. “Yes,” He said, all too fast. It had to mean something. His entire existence, his suffering, every life he had taken— it had to mean something. He needed it to mean something. The agony he had lived with, the anger he wore as second skin, it was all for something… for some reason. He needed it to be. So he continued, “It has to.”

You studied him, watching the subtle shifts in his demeanor, the weight of his gaze lingering on you— there was something in his eyes, a sense of desperation, of fear. You took a deep breath, and then you offered an understanding smile.

“Then it means whatever you need it to mean.”

Azriel frowned.

“That isn’t an answer.”

You tilted your head slightly, looking at him for a moment before you responded. “Well,” You said, "Perhaps you asked the wrong question.”

“What do you mean?” His brows knitted together, forming a furrowed line of confusion on his forehead. Faintly, in the back of his head, an ache gnawed at him.

Facing each other now, you maintained eye contact as he looked at you intently. “Ask me what you really want to, Azriel.”

”I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” There was a tinge of frustration in his voice, delicately mixed into the confusion that laced it.

You simply shrugged, giving him a close-mouthed smile. “You will.”

In normal circumstances, your elusive answers would have driven him crazy— he would be suspicious of you, find a sense of guilt in your failure to give proper, concrete responses. But he wasn’t in a normal circumstance, and you weren’t a threat. These were two things he knew, now, for sure. So he took your answers, as ambiguous as they were, and let them sit with him in the comfortable, cool, silence.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Azriel found you again by the Sidra, walking along the cobblestone streets of Velaris. It was the same again, him being able to find you without so much as a second guess. It was daytime now, he noticed. The sun shone brightly, casting a warm glow onto the city streets, filling his body with a comfortable, familiar, warmth. A few steps ahead of him, you stilled, turning around gracefully to face him.

“Hello Azriel.”

He stopped, making a motion to look around as if he were to find someone else, another person you might be referring to. Quickly he remembered that it was just you and him in this plane, in this form of his existence. He cleared his throat.

“Y/n,” He greeted, with a small nod of his head.

He walked towards you, stopping into place in front of you, a few feet ahead. The sunlight hit your back, creating a soft, radiant glow around your silhouette– it outlined your figure, forming a subtle halo around your head that seemed to blend with the warmth of the sun. It almost looked as if the sunlight itself was embracing you, framing your presence with a touch of radiance. Azriel took a moment to admire it.

He realized seconds later that he’d stared for too long, that you were now gazing up at him expectantly, eyes scanning his face.

Azriel wasn’t much of a talker, not around strangers, and sometimes not even his own family. It was never that he didn’t have things to say— quite the opposite, really. Az thought about everything, and he thought about it all very deeply. He had too much to say, too much that he’d observed. But now, in front of you, his mind was drawing blanks. He thought back to how, not long ago, you both stood on a snowy mountain, looking into the comfortable darkness of the night. How time worked here, with you, he didn’t know. It didn’t bother him, however, not like it did when he first woke up. In fact, he had begun to enjoy it. To enjoy how free it was, how there were no rules, no expectations, no missions.

Azriel paused, his thoughts swirling, and then, almost as if caught off guard by his own words, he blurted out, "I would like to show you something."

You blinked in surprise, your mouth parting slightly as your heart seemed to skip a beat, carefully falling back into a rhythmic melody. A smile spread across your features– a broad, teeth-revealing smile. The corners of Azriel’s lips turned up in response. If you didn’t know any better, you would have described the smile as almost awkward in its delivery. Though modest, it still held a certain beauty as it graced his face. The lines that had once etched across his features seemed to smooth out, replaced by silent calm evident in the softening of his gaze, the subtle curve of that smile. Your own smile settled into a close-lipped one, and you gently pulled your bottom lip with your teeth before nodding your head.

“Lead the way, Azriel," you said, and he began walking, but not without a quick glance back at you, ensuring you were following his lead. As you walked beside him at a comfortable pace, his wings fanned out comfortably. Their immense size allowed them to extend behind you, and even though you walked at his pace, you could feel their presence above you.

The streets of Velaris unfolded before you as you walked alongside Azriel. You took it all in– the beauty of the city, its intricate architecture and vibrant atmosphere. It was always a pleasure to experience it, to breathe in its life. Even amidst the circumstances that brought you here, there was a sense of appreciation for the privilege of experiencing such a place. A sense of jealousy welled up within you. Envy for those who could lead a normal life here— those who could wake up, take a walk by the Sidra, greet their friends in the morning light. It all seemed so mundane, so easy. You pushed the thought away, not wanting to give it the air to breathe, the space to fester. You looked towards Azriel.

“Where are we going?” You asked, as you both rounded a corner into a small alleyway. The space was narrow, causing you to fall into line behind him, your vision focusing on his wings. They were beautiful before, in the nighttime glow, but seeing them in such close proximity, with the sun casting through their membranes, it was a different experience. Such beautiful, beautiful things, you thought. You ached to run your fingertips across them.

He responded over his shoulder, "Aren't you supposed to know everything?"

You sensed a slight playful tone in his voice, letting out a small laugh at his question.

"That's not how it works," you replied, "I'm not The Mother."

Azriel stopped for a moment, causing you to skitter to a stop as well. He looked back, a puzzled expression crossing his face as he uttered a simple "huh."

You suddenly felt a vulnerability settling in, an awkward awareness of yourself and your proximity to him. Before it could fully take hold, Azriel resumed walking and you followed. The alleyway began to open up to a bigger road, allowing the space for you both to begin walking side by side once more.

"Azriel,” You said, casting a glance up at him, “If you're leading me to some private area to kill me, I hate to tell you that it won't work."

He stopped, and then craned his head down to look at you. A nervous flutter danced in your chest as a sense of self-consciousness crept in. What a stupid joke to make, you thought. What if he believed you were making a crude reference to his duties as a spymaster– assuming the worst of him and his abilities? Had you inadvertently touched on a sensitive subject in an attempt at humor? You weren't friends, you reminded yourself, there was still an expectation of professionalism to uphold. Azriel looked at you for a moment. And then another.

And then, he laughed. The sound, small and amused, radiated through your chest. You awkwardly joined in, unsure if your joke had landed or if it was something else entirely.

"Why would I kill the one who will bring me peace?" he asked, his words delivered with a touch of sincerity.

You let out a breath, taking in his face, the hazel of his eyes as he stared down at you. You smiled back at him, letting out another laugh, this time more certain and lighthearted. "Right, that would be foolish of you.”

You knew that Azriel was talking about your duties, about the job of a Reaper, not you specifically. But for a moment, you let yourself live in a fantasy, one where you weren't simply The Mother’s hand, where you didn’t only exist here, in a space where no one remembered you.

Azriel beckoned you to walk into the bigger street. It was only a few more steps before you stopped, taking in the sight of a quaint shop before you, adorned with small tables and chairs, surrounded by hanging plants and flowers. The window boasted a delicately hand-painted logo: Fillings & Emulsions.

Azriel took notice of the silence surrounding you both, no hum of the usual Velaris life, no laughter, no murmured distant conversations. Yet, the shop still smelled like its usual self— a sweet, buttery aroma of delicate treats and pastries. Azriel breathed it in with a smile. He opened the door, a small jingle sounding above him where a tiny bell rang. He held it open for you to enter.

Your gaze swept across the interior, taking in the small tables and the glass display filled with pastries of various shapes and colors. Behind the counter, loaves of bread sat neatly on wooden shelves.

"I like coming here, when I have the time."

Wandering around and exploring the cozy pastry shop, your gaze casually shifted towards Azriel, who remained by the doorway. "You're a dessert person?" you asked as you continued to meander through the charming space.

“Sometimes,” Azriel replied, walking further into the store. He looked around, taking in the familiar environment, the comforting decor. “But they have these sour candies that I love. They come in this little gold box-”

“You mean these?”

Now behind the counter, you turned around to face him, a small delicate gold box in your hand. The plastic cover revealed 12 small square gummies nestled inside, each in their own white wrapper. You looked up at him for confirmation. Azriel met your eyes before his gaze traveled down to your hands.

“Yes,” he breathed, a small smile forming on his lips, “Those.”

You smiled at the response, slowly making your way back around the counter, a few feet away from where he stood. You surveyed the store, eyes bouncing to the different tables and mismatched chairs. “Where do you usually sit?”

“I, uh, I don’t.” Azriel cleared his throat. “I never have the time. And when I do, I usually just head home.”

Azriel didn’t explain further, didn’t tell you his real reasons. It was true, he usually didn’t have time to sit and leisurely enjoy a box of candies. But when he did, he was often too afraid to stay in the store itself.

Azriel knew he called attention, that his wings stuck out in stark contrast against the gentle streets of the city, the quiet hum of life. He’d conditioned himself to appear smaller when walking around, to avoid direct eye contact so as to not intimidate those he passed. But even then, his presence was offputting– he’d catch citizens avoiding him, creating more distance between them or switching to the opposite side of the street. It was part of the job, he told himself. He was a large male, fully aware of how terrifying his stature could be, how frightening his own wings could be— especially when fully extended. Not even to mention his scarred hands, ones that he was sure fae could imagine easily drenched in the blood of his enemies. He wore gloves when he could. He wasn’t ashamed of them– his hands– not as much as before, but he was always acutely aware. Aware that they weren’t normal, that they drew attention, that for the comfort of others, he hid them away.

He came to, his thoughts slowly dissipating as he registered his surroundings once more, his gaze landing on you. You looked at him with a small curiosity in your eyes.

“Well,” You said, taking a glance around, “Would you like to sit now?”

“I would.” He nodded, offering a small smile that carried a touch of timidity. It wasn't like before, no uncertainty or awkwardness, but rather a gentle expression that hinted at a reserved warmth.

“Inside or outside?”

Azriel looked over his shoulder, towards the small door and the seating outside.

“Outside,” he replied.

A hum of agreement escaped your lips as you gave him a smile, taking a step to the side in order to walk around him, leading the way. The gentle jingle of the little doorbell echoed delicately as you stepped outside.

Azriel followed you, watching as you approached a small steel table. The white paint was chipped, flaking off at certain areas of the legs, but you didn’t seem to mind. The air felt crisp and clean, rays of sunshine peeking through alleyways and the tips of the stores that lined the street. Azriel took a moment to breathe it in, savoring the clarity that hung in the atmosphere, the silence. You pulled out your chair, the movement emitting a small screech as it slid against the cobblestones. Azriel walked to the table, standing opposite of you, and carefully took a seat.

As you slowly opened the box, Azriel adjusted himself in the seat. It was small, the steel back stiff and straight, making it hard for him to sit comfortably with his wings. After a small struggle, he settled into a position sitting up right, wings draping across each side of the chair. The frustration melted away as he took in his surroundings once more. He felt a certain peace he’d never felt before. A lightness in his movements, in his touch. The fresh air kissed his skin, a soft breeze whispered into his ears, threading itself through his hair.

“Is it always like this?” He asked.

You pulled the lid off the box, casting a glance up at him. Azriel’s head was turned sideways, his gaze following the curve of the streets.

“Like what?”

He looked at you, catching your eye. His face held a graceful calmness, brows slightly furrowed, and the corners of his lips turned up ever so slightly. With a soft, velvety tone, he replied, "This peaceful."

Turning to the side, you quickly scanned over the streets, registering the simple beauty that surrounded you both. Turning back to him, a tender smile played on your lips.

“Yes,” you replied, “It is.”

Azriel's response was a simple silent contemplation. Leaning back with a subtle adjustment for comfort, his wings gently folded and his gaze fixed on the table. Azriel loved Velaris. But he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the peace of an empty city that graced him now. Sitting with you now, at a small table by the streets, was something he was never able to do— not truly, not to this extent. He held the feeling close.

"Which are your favorites?"

Your voice pulled Azriel back to reality. He blinked, and then he looked at you.

"The green ones.”

You picked up one of the green candies nestled in white wrapping and offered it to him. Your hands briefly touched as he gently accepted the candy from you. You felt the texture of his skin against yours, the small ridges formed by the scarred tissue that extended to his fingers.

Azriel waited for it– the expected recoil from unintended contact, his body having been naturally accustomed to jump at the slightest of touches. However, this time, there was no involuntary withdrawal, no rush of icy embarrassment.

He was always so careful of his touch with Elain, acutely aware of how his hands looked against her immaculate skin. Although he refused to admit it, it bothered him deeply, how obvious it made his differences appear. Yet, that caution wasn’t found now, in his movements with you. Instead, a sense of certainty filled him, a gentle nudge to his heart, a contentedness with himself and his presence. You were beautiful, graceful, kind– and he didn’t feel guilt when touching you, didn’t feel as if he were about to taint something too beautiful for his hands.

You observed him as he stared at his hands, now resting on the table, the candy still in between his fingers. With a small movement, you gently cupped the side of one of them with your palm.

“Azriel,” You softly said, pulling his attention to you. “They didn’t feel this type of peace— didn’t feel peace at all, actually.”

Azriel stayed quiet, his gaze now trained on where your hand touched his. You pulled your hand back, and Azriel's gaze followed. Then, almost imperceptibly, the hazel of his eyes brightened. There was something about the way you spoke to him, about how kind your voice was. They didn’t feel peace. Your words rang in his head, a wave of relief passing through his body. It healed a part of him that he swore was broken, warmed his body like a summer's eve. He gave you a small smile.

You worried for a moment that you had forced thoughts onto him, ones that harbored pain and loneliness. But you felt it in your gut, a need to tell him, to let him know that they had suffered the way they deserved— that his hands were solely a part of him, a body part, natural. And from his response, it seemed as if he understood what you were saying, and most importantly, that it resonated with him the way you wished it to. You returned your attention to the sour candies before you.

"Can I ask why you like these so much?"

Azriel looked at you, a close-mouthed smile forming. His eyes crinkled a bit, and then he explained, "My mother used to give me candies just like this when I was able to see her. I never figured out how she got them. She..." He trailed off, readjusting how he was sitting. His gaze met yours as he finished, "That's why."

You could sense the sadness now evident in his face, his wings rolling in closer to his body. You let out a small breath as a sudden pang of sympathy hit you.

"Let's talk about something else," you suggested, subtly shifting the focus as you played with the edges of the candy box

Azriel leaned forward quickly, his hand reaching out to gently rest on yours before either of you had the chance to register the movement. "It's alright,” he said softly. “I'd like to talk about this. I don't talk about her much.”

Your gaze lingered on his hand touching yours, on the warmth that spread through your skin at the contact. Be professional, you reminded yourself. This is not real.

With a genuine smile, you nodded, careful not to move a muscle, not wanting to disrupt the moment, to risk the chance of him retracting his hand. "Then please, I'd love to hear.”

And so he did. Azriel spoke of his mother, of growing up admiring her long hair and the way she smelled of pine and snow. He realized that he had never talked so much about himself, never shared such intimate details about his life. He realized, too, that he quite liked it. He liked talking to you. He liked you.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Days and nights had passed, Azriel was sure of it, but he was never tired, never slept. Time worked so differently here– he wasn’t aware of it passing, wasn’t aware of what he’d done the day before or even hours prior. All he was aware of was the peace in his heart, how it radiated throughout his body, relieving him of centuries worth of tension. Amidst it all was you, a companion Azriel had grown to enjoy— to adore, if he was being honest with himself.

You were kind and patient, welcoming in a way that had him opening up to you, telling you stories that he’d never dared to share with anyone else. There was no fear of being vulnerable here, with you, no threat he had to worry about, no anxiety regarding a new enemy or an evil to defeat. It was all so easy.

Azriel walked through the hallways of the House of Wind, taking in the familiar sense of home that filled it, the beauty of the sun-warmed stone. He found himself outside of his own room, staring in at the space. It was strange to think that his body, his real body, lay in another bedroom, in another home— in a form of existence that he no longer held. It was all so very strange. But he didn’t mind, not anymore.

He felt you before he heard you, a gentle breeze fanning over him, a smell of sweetness filling his nose. He turned to face you, taking in your presence, the cream dress that adorned your figure. It was there again, the subtle halo around your head, framed by faint rays of sunlight.

“Hello, Azriel.” You greeted with a large smile. He mirrored the gesture almost instantly.

“Hello, y/n.”

You took a few steps forward, craning your head to peer into the room behind him, past the doorway he stood under.

“Is this your room?”

“Yes,” He said, taking a step aside to allow for you to pass him as you entered. “One of many. My family, they have many places to call home.”

“Do you miss them?” You asked, casting a glance over your shoulder as you moved around his room, “Your family, I mean.”

Azriel stilled for a moment. He hadn’t thought of them as much as he would have expected, a part of him felt guilty for not being as heartbroken. He did miss his family– he was worried about them, about how they were doing, if his help was needed. But he didn’t feel a rush to return to his life, no nauseating need to fix his current situation, to be healed and awake.

“Yes.” He replied. He watched as you walked around, carefully taking in your surroundings. His room wasn’t very interesting— simple decorations that had already been placed before he took residence, various random books.

“Where do you disappear to?” Azriel asked.

You turned to look at him, taking him in for the first time since you entered. It was still there, you noticed, the sense of calm on his face, the evidence of a serene ease. His eyes held a lightness that you’d seen grow since he first came to you. His shoulders were relaxed, his wings comfortably fanned out behind him in an open and unhurried sprawl.

To do your job, you thought. The duties of a Reaper. Visiting souls in distress, leading them to their peace swiftly– efficiently. Not staying with them, not keeping them company. No, those were things you’d reserved for Azriel. You only hoped that The Mother wasn’t angry, that your affinity for him didn’t disrupt a delicate balance.

“As much as I enjoy our time together, I still have duties to fulfill,” You replied. “Did you miss me?”

You intended for it to be a joke, a lighthearted comment that would make him laugh– a melodic sound you had gotten used to recently, one that you savored and replayed in your mind. Yet Azriel’s eyes met yours with a serious gaze.

“Yes,” He answered, his voice sincere. “I did.”

Something in your chest fluttered and your mouth parted, a pleasant shiver rolling through your body. There was a small heat that rose to your cheeks. For a moment, you looked at the floor, composing yourself before meeting his gaze again. A genuine smile graced your lips as you softly admitted, "I missed you, too."

A few moments later, you walked along Azriel as he shared stories about his home, his brothers, and the various experiences he'd had, absorbing each narrative with hungry ears. It was a beautiful thing to see, Azriel open and laughing, the smile on his lips as he recalled favorite memories. This house, The House of Wind as Azriel had called it, was filled with life– his life. You could feel it everywhere as you walked. There was a small tug at your heart. He had a life. A beautiful, real life.

Eventually, you both stopped at a large window, the outside world spread before you in a breathtaking view. Azriel found his gaze dropping to the streets below, devoid of the usual bustling life he was used to. Faintly, a small ache hit the back of his head. He blinked it away. Then, he frowned slightly, a realization hitting him that he didn’t enjoy seeing the streets empty– that something felt missing. He turned to look at you, brows furrowed.

"Do you ever get lonely?"

The question lingered in the air for a moment, stealing the air from your lungs. Why it seemed to strike, you couldn’t tell, but it left a burn in its wake. You let out a deep breath as you looked up at Azriel.

“The Mother blessed me with a duty that is fulfilling.”

Azriel looked at you, studying your response. A sense of sadness filled him, a gentle ache in his heart at the idea, at the image of you alone, wandering the empty streets. Softly, he spoke, "That's not what I asked."

A wave of emotion washed over you. There was a sanctity to your duties, to the job that you held. You were honored to help The Mother, to be the one that granted such peace. You never knew that you could feel such longing, such a desire to be someone else, something else, until you met Azriel the first time he crossed. And then the time after. And now.

"Yes, Azriel,” you admitted, “I do.”

As you both stood in the quiet moment, the stunning view from the window still visible in your peripheral vision, you looked at Azriel. You took in his details—the tousle of his hair, the gleam in his eyes—committing the scene to memory. This was an image you wanted to save forever, one of him so close, so connected.

Azriel broke the silence with another question, "Why do you do that? Say my name so often?"

You didn’t realize that the frequency in which you used his name was noticeable. It rolled off your tongue so easily, so naturally. You thought about it for a moment, thought about the feeling you got before you said it.

"Would you prefer me to call you by something else?" you asked, tilting your head slightly as you observed Azriel's expressions. "Shadowsinger, or Spymaster?"

His response was immediate and he took a step forward as he spoke. "No," Azriel said, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. "I-I like it."

You smiled at him. "I suppose I do it to make sure you feel seen."

A flicker of confusion crossed Azriel's face, his brows knitting together. "Seen?"

"To show you that you're not just what you do," you explained, your voice carrying a quiet sincerity. Your words trailed off softly. A beat passed, and then you added, "At least not to me."

In his hundreds of years of life, Azriel was never seen. He had been perceived, observed, even known, but never truly seen. Not like the way you looked at him, the way you allowed him to breathe, allowed him to exist as nothing more than simply Azriel.

Your gaze held seemed to see beyond the layers he had meticulously built around himself for so long, beyond the titles and responsibilities that often defined him. For the first time, he felt a sense of vulnerability mingled with relief—a feeling of being understood in a way he hadn't experienced before, in a way he never felt he deserved. A warmth spread through his body, starting from the pit of his stomach and radiating outward, enveloping him in a comforting embrace.

Without even realizing it, his hand moved towards you, lifting a strand of your hair and gently holding it between his scarred fingers. In the past, he would have hesitated to touch another person so intimately, but in this moment, there was no hesitation, no sense of reluctance, only a pull to you and you only. Was this part of what it meant to be a Reaper? He wondered, to cause such comfort in those you kept company? To make them feel like this?

He watched the way the strand of hair caught the light, twirling it between his fingers with a tenderness he had never known himself capable of. He met your eyes, slightly widened, observing him intently. With a soft smile, Azriel spoke, "I see you too, Y/n.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

His view was filled with rolling hills, vibrant in green hues, a gentle afternoon sun in the sky. In the distance, he could hear the faint sounds of babbling brooks and streams, a soothing melody that seemed to blend seamlessly with the rustle of the wind through the grass, through the leaves of the trees that surrounded you. Azriel understood why Mor was so fond of her estate, why she ran off to it when she could. If it was surrounded with views like this, with such quiet life, beautiful life, he would escape to it, too. Beside him, you lay on the soft grass, your hair spread out around you like a halo.

Despite the open air, Azriel felt groggy, his eyelids heavier than they’d felt in a while. Something felt strange, a trickling sense of anxiety within his body. The wind in his hair and the air on his arms, on his wings, didn’t feel the same— it wasn’t as lively, wasn’t as strong. There was a sharp throb in the back of his head, sending a sudden wave of pain crashing over him. He grimaced and let out a low groan.

Instinctively, you jumped up at the sound, angling your body to face him, concern painting your features. Your heart dropped as you watched him bring a hand to the back of his head, brows furrowed in discomfort.

Amidst pained groans, Azriel turned to you with a frown. "I’m sorry. I just- I keep having these horrible headaches.”

You let out a small breath.

"It's because you're healing," you murmured softly, your voice tinged with sorrow. Your gaze lingered on him, sadness flickering across your features. When Azriel’s eyes met yours, you quickly blinked away any evidence of it, calling forward a gentle, unassuming, face.

His hand dropped slowly from the back of his head. "I am?" he echoed.

You extended your hand, hovering it gently over the back of his head where his hand had been moments ago. "This is where you damaged your skull," you explained softly,. "The injury that got you... Well, here. With me." Your gaze swept around the tranquil surroundings, a small, bittersweet smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Any progress in your physical body, you feel here too," you continued, your voice tender yet matter-of-fact. "The ache is calling you back."

"Back to my life," Azriel murmured, the words barely audible as they slipped from his lips, softening and fading before they fully formed.

You nodded, a lump in the back of your throat.

Azriel's expression shifted abruptly, a flash of tension replacing the settled calmness that had graced his face for quite some time now. "I don't want to go back," he said. It was a tone of voice you’d never heard from him before, a sense of desperation that didn’t fit him.

You shook your head gently. "You don't mean that.”

But Azriel remained resolute. Moving closer, he reached out, his hand coming to rest atop yours on your thigh. "I do," he insisted, his tone unwavering. “Y/n, I do.”

“Azriel,” You said sternly. “You have a life waiting for you, a long life.”

“But I’m so tired. All the time,Y/n” he admitted, his voice heavy with weariness. “And this,” he gestured around him, his eyes lingering on the rolling green hills, "this is the most at peace I’ve ever felt."

You felt a selfish impulse, a desire to indulge in his fantasy, to urge him to stay, to fight against the inevitable pull back to reality. But you knew it wasn't fair, that it wasn’t right. If you truly cared for someone, you had to be fair to them. And you cared for Azriel– cared for him in a way you’d never felt before.

“But it’s not real,” you interjected softly, leaning in, your brows furrowed, your forehead creased with concern. "This isn’t a life.This isn’t a reality— this is an in-between. Sooner or later, you will find yourself on one end.”

Azriel couldn’t understand. His heart hurt. Why weren’t you agreeing with him? Why weren’t you telling him to stay, convincing him it was worth it? This peace he felt with you, this quiet life you lived, he could stay. He would stay.

“You’re real,” he whispered, his voice tinged with desperation. “And right now, this...” he trailed off, his gaze sweeping over your face, "this feels real to me.”

You took a deep breath, feeling knots tightening in your stomach, a lump forming in your throat. You swallowed down the words you wanted to say, replacing the ones on your tongue with those he needed to hear.

"I'm a Reaper," you said, reminding him of the inevitable separation it entailed. His eyes, a dark, almost sad brown, met yours. “Reapers aren’t meant to stay.”

The knots in your stomach were twisting now, weaving themselves through your ribs. It was hard for you to breathe, hard for you to look at Azriel as he stared at you with such clear hurt on his face. He couldn’t stay. It wasn’t natural. It wasn’t the plan. Azriel was going to return to a life where he would not remember you, a life in which you didn’t exist. And you would remain here, waiting in a form of existence that had no time.

"Your family misses you," you continued, your gaze unwavering as you locked eyes with him. The knots now wrapped around your heart, squeezing. "You still have things to do. They need you. You need them."

Surely your heart was about to burst, the pressure in your chest now overwhelming– crushing you, your heartbeat erratic.

“Come with me.” Azriel said.

You let out a small breath, a soft laugh escaping your lips at the absurdity of his suggestion. It sounded so simple, so easy, but you knew better. It wasn't that simple, life was never that easy. You were a Reaper. He was a soul. Before you could respond, Azriel continued, his voice still gentle but earnest.

"You'll love them. And you'll love Velaris when it is filled with people. With life."

His eyes bore into you, seemingly searching for something, trying to memorize every contour of your face, every flicker of emotion that danced across your features.

"I can't," you replied softly, your heart heavy with the weight of your duty. You shook your head again as you tightened your lips for a moment. "That's not how this works.”

Azriel's demeanor softened, a small breath of defeat escaping him as his wings drooped slightly. He took in everything you said, his gaze flickering down to where his hand still rested atop yours before meeting your eyes again.

"I don’t want to leave you here," he said quietly.

Here, alone, he thought. It was true, everything was so beautiful in this form of existence. It was quiet, serene, and calm. The nights were beautiful, the days were glorious. But without you, it would have been empty. Void of life. He didn’t want that for you, he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you in such a vast space. It felt wrong.

You recognized the concern in his eyes, realizing that his desperation stemmed from a place of caring– caring for you. It struck a chord within you, stirring a bittersweet pang in your chest, right beside your rapidly beating, tied up heart. Somehow, knowing that he cared for you only made you care for him more, deepening the sorrow that lingered in you, the feeling that now coursed through your veins.

Tilting your head, you offered him a soft smile, a gesture of reassurance, you hoped. "Azriel," you said gently, your voice tinged with a warmth he had grown to love, "I'll be alright. I'm happy here. It's where I belong."

It wasn’t all a lie. This was where you belonged, and you would be alright. But you weren’t sure if you’d be happy. Happiness wasn’t something you used to think of. You had a duty, a sacred, important duty, nothing else really mattered— not yourself, not your desires, not your heart.

Azriel took in your answer, swallowing the urge to fight it, to convince you further. But the pleading in your eyes, coupled with the ache in his chest and the heaviness in his stomach, left him feeling defeated. With a resigned nod, he looked at you, his voice soft but determined.

"I'll find you," he whispered.

You blinked, caught off guard by the soft declaration.

"I'll find you," Azriel said again, his tone firmer, as if he were making a promise that he intended to keep.

You understood the sentiment behind his words, recognizing the determination in his eyes. You knew, without needing to discuss it, that as a skilled spymaster, he possessed the ability to find people. Yet, deep down, you also understood the inevitable truth—that soon, he would forget you, forget the time you spent together. The thought caused a sharp ache in your heart, one you preferred not to dwell on.

So, with a heavy heart, you simply nodded and murmured, "Okay." And offered him a smile.

You sat there in silence, the weight of his words hanging in the air around you. Breathing in the crisp, fresh air, you let the sounds of nature wash over you, grounding you in the present moment. Your gaze lingered on his face, committing every detail to memory, as if carving it into your very being. You wanted to remember this. Remember him, his touch, his care for you.

Azriel—the shadowsinger, the spymaster, a skilled killer. And then there was you—the servant of the Mother, a guide for souls, bound by duty and devotion. Death and his Reaper. What a poetic pair you made.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It was time.

You had been right, when you talked him down before, sitting on the beautiful green hill. Azriel had a life to return to, a family he missed– a family that missed him. He didn’t belong here, no matter how much he wished he could. He could feel it, nestled within his ribs, a deep pull to his body.

Azriel stood in the familiar confines of the River house, his gaze fixed on the bed where his physical form lay peacefully. He took in the sight of his body, now filled with color, vibrant and alive, a stark contrast to the pale, lifeless form he had been when he first awoke.

A sense of disorientation washed over him as he realized he was back here, in this room, though he couldn't recall making the conscious decision to return. From behind him, he felt your presence, a familiar energy that always seemed to embrace him with a comfortable warmth, the sweet smell in his nose.

"I didn't even realize I was coming here.” Azriel said.

Without turning, he heard your soft voice. "You never do," you replied simply, “Your body calls and you answer.”

Azriel nodded slowly, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. He breathed out heavily. He longed to turn and look at you, to embrace your presence, trace the features of your face. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not yet. He wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to confront the truth that lay before him—that he wanted to go back, back to the land of the living, to his family, to embrace his life once more. But he wasn't ready for what he needed to do in order to return– wasn’t ready to say goodbye to you.

“Azriel,” You said, as you gently placed your hand on his arm. He turned to look at you, his heart skipping a beat.The faelight cast a soft glow on your body, illuminating the delicate features of your face, dancing through your hair like shimmering strands of moonlight. And there it was—the small, reassuring smile that you had offered him so many times before. The smile you had given to him when he first woke up, afraid and alarmed, in the same place he stood now.

He couldn't help but feel a flicker of happiness at the sight of your gentle smile, but just as quickly as the feeling washed over him, it was replaced by a bittersweet pang of realization. The reality of why you were here, why you were looking at him with such tender affection, why he could barely feel your touch— and why his head throbbed with searing pain. He glanced over his shoulder at his sleeping form, and then looked at you again.

“Y/n, I-”

You gently shook your head, a soft shushing sound escaping your lips as you reached out to calm him. "It's okay," you reassured him, your voice gentle but firm. "You won’t feel a thing."

But Azriel shook his head too, his expression filled with concern as he took your hands in his. "That's not what I'm worried about," he admitted quietly.

You met his gaze, taking in every detail of his face, breathing in his scent. Your gaze drifted towards his wings, so beautiful, so powerful. And then you looked back at him.

"I'll be okay."

It was a promise, not just to him, but to yourself.

Azriel's senses dulled and the pain intensified, a sense of desperation washed over him. He thought back to your conversations earlier. He never figured out how time worked here, perhaps the conversation had been days ago, even weeks. But, to him, it felt like hours prior. Maybe a day, if he was being generous. Still, his mind raced with thoughts, with things he wanted to tell you, to ask of you, things that hadn’t been there before. Ask me what you really want to, Azriel, you had said, so he did.

“Am I worthy?” His voice rang out, unsure, afraid— of the answer, of what the question meant. “Am I worthy of this life? Is… is it worth it?”

You smiled. A broad, bright, and kind smile.

You felt Azriel's hands tremble slightly in yours, guiding them to your lips. With tender reverence, you pressed a small, tender kiss upon his scarred flesh. “Yes,” you whispered, “If only you knew.”

You understood now, why The Mother always urged for a swift journey. You weren’t supposed to spend such intimate times with your souls, you weren’t supposed to grow comfortable in their presence, to learn about their favorite candies and the way their mothers smelled. You weren’t supposed to because it distracted you from your duty– and more importantly, you weren’t supposed to because it prevented you from the heartache you felt now. A piercing pain in your chest, a heaviness in your stomach.

You lifted a hand and gently placed it on his cheek. The warmth of your touch radiated through his body, sending a wave of indescribable sensation coursing through him. The world seemed to blur around him, the ringing in his ears drowning out all other sound. He squinted against the growing brightness, his head throbbing with a relentless ache. He heard your voice, soft like honey, sweet like tea, whispering in his ear in perfect clarity.

“Goodbye, Azriel.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Azriel jolted upright, his body propelled by a surge of adrenaline that left him momentarily breathless. With a deep inhale, he struggled to steady his racing heart, his surroundings swimming into focus with agonizing slowness.

Each detail of the room seemed to materialize before him in excruciating detail, from the soft glow of the morning light filtering through the window to the faint murmur of voices drifting from the doorway. His hand instinctively went to the back of his head, a gesture born of instinct rather than any physical discomfort. Confusion furrowed his brow as he tried to recall why he had woken with such a start, where he currently was, why he laid on a bare bed, but the memory seemed frustratingly out of reach– blurry and unfocused.

As Azriel's eyes adjusted to the soft light filtering through the room, the door creaked open, a distant sound barely registering in his slow mind. Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, a blur of motion filled his vision and Cassian was upon him, bounding forward with a crushing embrace. "There's my boy!"

With a startled gasp, Azriel felt the air rush out of his lungs as Cassian's hug engulfed him, the force of the impact momentarily disorienting him further than he already was. A small, involuntary sound—a mixture of surprise and amusement—escaped his lips as he tried to regain his bearings. Azriel's gaze flickered past Cassian’s broad shoulders, to where Rhysand stood in the doorway, his expression a mix of concern and amusement.

"Okay, Cass," Rhysand said, walking towards the bed. "Let him breathe. We don’t want to give him another head injury."

Cassian released Azriel from his enthusiastic embrace, though a joyous gleam danced in his eyes as he stepped back, offering Azriel a sheepish grin. "My bad," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of embarrassment, “I just missed ya.”

Rhysand stood casually, a playful smirk dancing across his lips. "If you were seeking attention, Az, you could've simply asked," he said with a wave of his hand. "No need to resort to dying for it."

The comment elicited a shocked blink from Azriel, his brows furrowing in confusion. "I- What?" he echoed. A few of his shadows slithered up his arms, wrapping themselves across his shoulders, the cool trail of them relieving tension in his upper body.

Rhysand let out a small laugh as he clapped him on the shoulder with a reassuring grin. "You have a lot of catching up to do, brother," Rhysand remarked, “Let's get you back to the land of the living.”

Azriel offered a small, uncertain laugh in response, the corners of his lips curling upwards into a hesitant smile, his mind still cloudy, disoriented. Rhysand and Cassian began talking, referring to him, attempting to fill Azriel in, but he wasn’t paying attention, their voices blending into a distant hum.

Instead, Azriel's attention was drawn to an inexplicable warmth on his cheek. Instinctively, he lifted his hand and gently touched the spot, feeling the comforting heat beneath his fingertips. He frowned, trying to make sense of the sensation, but the warmth seemed to soothe his lingering disorientation, grounding him in the present moment with a sense of…ease.

Azriel's attention shifted towards the corner of the room, where a soft beam of sunlight filtered through the window. A handful of his shadows floated and twirled, their graceful movements dancing within the warm glow. He smiled, tilting his head at the sight, his hand still on his cheek. What a beautiful sight, Azriel thought. And then he was turning his attention back to his brothers, a wide smile now on his cheeks.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

y'all... imagine meeting ur soulmate but u can only see her when ur dead and cant remember her otherwise lol sucks for azriel.

#azriel #azriel fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotarfandom #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel/reader #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel one shot #acotar oneshot

2K notes · View notes

milswrites · 27 days

Text

The Trials of Aphrodite Part Five

~ Azriel X Fem!Reader

Series Masterlist

Series summary: Hopelessly in love with Elain, Azriel enlists your help in order to win her over. The only problem? You have been in love with Azriel for as long as you have known him.

Chapter summary: You make the most unlikely of friends.

Warnings: Angst.

“I think you should talk to Elain.”

You scoffed as you looked up from the pages of your book, brows raised and eyes rolling as you turned your once focused gaze to the anticipatory stare of your friend, “Good morning to you too, Az. I’m swell, thank you for asking.”

Hazel eyes narrowing at your remark, a sound of disbelief fell from Azriel’s lips as your attention returned to the book between your hands. Disgruntled by his piercing gaze, you stubbornly moved the object to block him from your view. Your action drawing a groan of contention from the shadowsinger as he argued, “Oh come on sweetheart, I just got ahead of myself. I’m sorry, alright?”

Azriel sighed lowly as he realized you weren’t going to budge, lips downturned as his hands came to rest on either arm of the chair you were curled up in. “Angel?” he asked tentatively, leaning forwards until the tip of his nose brushed against the spine of your book, a teasing finger coming to push the novel down until his amused gaze met your own formidable glare. The heated breath of his mirthful chuckle kissing your cheeks as he smirked, “How’s my best friend doing on this lovely day?”

You snorted at his question, eyes unforgiving as you answered flatly, “I’m telling Cassian that you called me your best friend.”

The shadowsinger chuckled at your words, shrugging his shoulders in dismissal as he added, "Come on angel. If you don't tell me how your day is, I guess I'm just going to have to tell Rhys that it was you who knocked over the entire shelf of his expensive wines last solstice."

You slammed your book shut, glaring daggers at the male as you seethed, "You wouldn't dare! You swore you would never tell!"

"You're right, and I always make good on my promises. But it's nice to see your beautiful face again." Azriel grinned devilishly, sliding the book from your lap before you could utilize it as a weapon, "Now, how's my angel doing today?"

You huffed, unable to stop the small smile from pulling at your lips at the male's antics, "Slightly annoyed that I still fall for your same tricks after five hundred years of friendship."

"But you still love me all the same," Azriel grinned. Your eyes shied from his playful gaze as he spoke, cheeks turning pale as you wondered if Azriel knew just how truthful his statement was. Yet the male failed to notice your change in demeanor, rather, he proceeded once more with tentatively approaching the topic of his arrival, "So much so that you'd talk to Elain for me?"

You slumped into your chair, resisting the urge to groan in frustration at your friend's proposal, "Az, I have never once spoken to Elain. Don't you think she'd be suspicious if I started trying to be her friend out of the blue?"

"But isn't that what wingmen -" Azriel shrank under your unimpressed stare, nervously laughing as he corrected himself, " - sorry - wingwomen do?"

Your mouth parted wordlessly, mind searching for any possible excuse as to why you talking to Elain for him would be a bad idea. But it was too late, Azriel had sensed your reluctance. His hand coming to meet your own as he pleaded his case, "There is not a single person in Prythian you could talk to who wouldn't fall for your charm. Look . . . It'll be easy. I just think I may have more of a chance with her if you shared some things about me that you think she may like to hear."

"What, like the fact that you still sleep with the stuffed bat I gave you centuries ago?" you teased as payback for his earlier comment, taking pleasure in the way Azriel's smile dropped in horror. The male's eyes blowing wide in alarm as he stammered a pitiful response, "How did you -? . . . I- I don't sleep with him anymore!"

"Him?" you laughed at Azriel’s pitiful attempt of a burning glare, throwing your head back in glee at the sight. Proud that you were possibly the only person alive who could be on the receiving end of one of the shadowsinger's threatening stares and live to tell the tale.

"You're hilarious, truly" Azriel replied flatly, “It’s nice to see how much you care about my love life”. The shadowsinger, unamused by your incessant giggling, permissed a grave expression to cross his face as he continued to press the matter, "Please. I really need her to like me, and if that means that I need to ask my guardian angel to work her magic . . ."

Your heart clenched at his words, the laughter dying in your throat as your eyes fell from his own pleading ones to the hands at your lap. Stare cold and broken as you realized Rhysand had been wrong the other day. You could never say no. Not to Azriel.

You were a victim of your own heart's desire, cursed with the unfortunate luck of only ever being able to answer the male with words he so longed to hear. Azriel the commander and executioner of your love as your reply slipped from your lips before you could even think about stopping yourself, "Of course I'll speak to her, Az. That's what friends do, right?"

"And what a great friend you are" he grinned, the tension in his shoulders easing at your acceptance, "I'll pay you back for this, I promise. We'll go to that restaurant you like, the one down by the Rainbow."

"Yeah. . .” Azriel was gone before you could even finish your sentence, his shadows lingering for a moment before they ultimately decided on following their master, “That sounds nice. . ."

You quietly sigh, vacant eyes never straying from your lap as you move your shaky hands to cling onto the arms of the chair, gripping the velvet upholstery in an effort to stop your uncontrollable trembling.

Terrified at the prospect of facing the female who was in every way your superior, you exhaled deeply. Rubbing at the growing ache in your temples as you readied yourself to look into the eyes of the cauldron-blessed fae who had stolen Azriel’s heart.

It didn't take long to find her.

The majority of Elain’s days were typically spent within the walls of her garden, the timid female preferring to pass her time with the company of flowers rather than that of other fae.

Perhaps you could tell yourself that was why the two of you had never spoken. That her quiet, reserved nature was the reason for the silence between you. That it had absolutely nothing to do with the shadowsinger who had managed to capture both of your affections.

If that were the case, perhaps you would have allowed yourself to have visited her garden sooner. Sparing the time to come and admire the beautifully blooming flowers, taking the opportunity to bask in the soothing tranquility of your surroundings. You had to admit it was impressive, the radiant life that Elain had managed to bring to the garden that the workers have otherwise been unable to do so.

But you also had to admit that you have been selfish, and unfairly so. Unable to help but wonder if your reason for visiting Elain today was a punishment from the gods, a penalty for having not been more welcoming to the female upon her arrival to the Night Court.

It didn't take long for Elain to notice your presence in her garden, the sound of your approaching footsteps being enough to pull the female's attention from the flowers she was tending to. Her brow creased in confusion as she saw exactly who it was walking towards her.

"Uh, hello Elain," you awkwardly began, smile tight as you mentally cursed yourself for your uncomfortable demeanor, "I saw you through the window and I um . . . I thought you may appreciate a tea."

Elain's eyes dropped to the cup held between your shaky hands, mouth slightly parting in question at your unusually kind gesture, "Oh . . . "

Sighing, you closed the distance between you, placing the cup on the ground before opting to sit beside the female. "It was Azriel's idea" you confessed, tentatively glancing in Elain's direction, noting how her ears pricked at the mention of your friend's name, "He thought it might be a nice idea for you to have someone to talk to. . . The tea was all me though."

"That's nice of him" Elain allowed a soft smile to grace her lips, moving to pick up the cup before she nervously added, "and you, thank you for the tea."

"Yeah, he's always watching out for the people he cares about" you winced at your words, eyes closing in shame as you were aware of just how terribly this conversation was going. Moving your hand to pick at the hem of your dress as you resisted the urge to flee in embarrassment.

But if Elain were bothered by your uneasy company she didn't show, moving to pick up her trowel once more as she resumed her gardening, her words light as she replied, "I know I'm considerably younger than all you fae, but that doesn't make me stupid. I know why you're here."

You inhaled sharply, shoulders tensing as you found yourself unable to stop the rising wave of panic which had begun to wash over you, nervous eyes flickering over the poised female as you breathlessly asked, "What?"

"I know love when I see it" Elain answered, briefly turning from her task so her brown eyes could meet your own, "That's why Azriel sent you to talk to me wasn't it? Because he thinks he loves me."

"You know?" you asked at a higher octave than deemed normal, unable to help the surprised laugh which escaped your lips, leaning back onto your hands as you allowed the information to soak in. Mouth dropped in disbelief as you gathered your thoughts, "You'd certainly make for a better spymaster than him."

"It doesn't exactly take a spymaster to see it" Elain smirked slightly, seemingly pleased by your astonished reaction. Gesturing to a spare trowel she continued, "Come on, if we're going to talk you may as well be helping me."

A feeling of satisfied contentment washed over you as the two of you worked in a comfortable silence. It wasn't hard to understand why Elain loved to spend all of her time here, the quiet calm of the garden was a suitable place to sieve through the questions which had risen at her revelation.

Wondering exactly where it was you were supposed to begin, you tentatively asked, "So why haven't you told him that you know?" Your face immediately turning pale as your tumultuous thoughts had already answered for her, heart racing as you voiced the glaring question on your mind, "Unless you don't love him back?"

It had always been a possibility that Elain didn't share the same feelings for Azriel as he did for her. You would be lying if you said you hadn't hoped for it. Having already pondered the possibility that if the shadowsinger were to be rejected, his lovesick eyes may then turn to you. You almost scoffed at how pathetic the idea was.

And yet, inexplicably, a sinking feeling had risen in your chest. Heart already breaking at the mere thought of how Azriel would react to the terrible news that Elain didn't like him back.

It took several moments for the female to reply, mind lost to her own thoughts as she searched for an appropriate answer. "Love him?" Elain pondered, gaze distant as she stared at a budding flower before her, "No. But I could grow to."

The soft sigh which escaped from Elain's lips told you she had more to say, her eyes thinly veiled by a white mist as she began to explain her reasoning, “I was engaged once - if you'd believe it - but then the war happened, and Hybern, and then by some cruel trick of fate the cauldron turned me into the one thing that my fiancé had always been taught to hate."

You failed to find an answer worthy of speaking, sympathy brewing in your chest at the female's admission that her transition has been more than difficult. Guilty, that between your bitterness and jealousy, you hadn't stopped to think about exactly what it was Elain was going through.

"I never got a choice, not when I got shoved into the cauldron and not when I got brought here. . . So I don't really know what it is I want with my life anymore. I'm not even sure I know who I am. But I do know Azriel makes me happy," Elain's words drew you from your spiraling shame, a wistful smile on the young fae's face as she spoke about the male, "When I'm with him I don't have to be who I used to be. . . He gives me the room to figure out who I am in this new life I have been given."

"You make him happy too, Elain" you answered with a sad smile, swallowing your pain as you tried to blink away your rising tears, "He really does think the world of you."

It didn’t take long for you to realize you had allowed your emotions to get the better of you, your face blanching as shock crossed Elain's features. Her eyes full of sorrow as she turned her gaze to you, "You love him?"

"And he loves you."

You did your best to shrug away the females sympathetic stare as you moved to continue gardening, yet Elain's pitiful eyes remained on you, lips downturned as she queried, "How long?"

You laughed at the answer to her question, too embarrassed to reveal to Elain that you had wasted centuries pining after a male who would never love you back, "Let's just say it's been long enough for me to know it's time to move on."

Elain hummed in quiet understanding, taking a moment to think before her head tilted in question, "And have you?”

"Have I what?"

"Moved on?"

There was no malice in Elain Acheron's voice, not as each question she asked was delivered with such empathy. Rather, you found yourself blushing at her curious nature, a shy smile gracing your features as you found yourself revealing, "I'm getting there, one day at a time. . . I may have met someone the other day."

Elain squealed in excitement, dropping her trowel as she moved her body to face yours, eagerly outstretching her hands to meet your own as she laced them together and begged, "Tell me everything."

"There's not much to tell" you reply honestly, ears burning at the thought of the male you had met the other day, "We've only met once, at the bakery in Velaris. He spilt his coffee all over me and then we just got talking. I don't know. . . It just felt so natural, for once in my life I didn't find myself thinking of . . . well . . . Az. He asked to meet me again but -"

"Oh you have to!" Elain cried, an encouraging grin crossing her face as she urged you to take the step. Her searching eyes not failing to miss the hesitance in your own;, hands squeezing yours as she offered her advice, “Moving on isn’t meant to be easy. But the regret you’ll feel if you miss this chance will hurt more. . . Besides you never know, this male might surprise you, it already sounds like he’s swept you off your feet.”

You smiled at Elain, the thought of males far from your mind as you found yourself unable to think of anything other than how utterly and completely wrong you had been about her. Brows knitted together in regret, you expressed this to the female, “You know, you’re not quite the person I expected you to be Elain Archeron.”

The fae's eyes twinkled in response, a matching smile upon her lips as she replied, “No, neither are you.”

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

Notes: Sorry for the wait for this part 🥲 my uni kind of killed me off for a moment. And thank you to @sarawritestories who helped me iron this part out because my brain is fried at the moment.

Taglist:

@a-cup-of-nightshade @yearninglustfully @illyrianbitch @ninaduchess @annaaaaa88 @antiquecultist @madelyncullen @erencvlt @chaytea06 @dxjaaaa @saltedcoffeescotch @spark1epuffba11s @thestartitaness @amysangel @historygeekqueen @thelov3lybookworm @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @willowpains @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @dreamlandreader @sidthedollface2 @leeknows-wife @riorgail @lady-of-tearshed @evergreenlark @anuttellaa @daily-dose-of-sass @Jesus-is-me @tothestarsandwhateverend

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel series #azriel oneshot #azriel angst #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel imagine

497 notes · View notes

thisblogisaboutabook · 5 months

Text

The cycle of life

Azriel x Reader

Fae cycles suck, thank the mother for your attentive mate who is there to provide you with all of the smut and fluff you desire.

warnings: smut, language, self-esteem and body image struggles, anxiety, slight breeding kink

She didn’t know when the self-loathing crept in - although it was always the first sign. The week had been busy, she’d poured herself into her work. Being a bookkeeper for such a wealthy court was… tiring to say the least. It was fulfilling work, especially when it came to the Court of Dreams. Balancing ledgers and creating budgets for various charitable endeavors was a duty she was proud to take part in. The High Lord and Lady’s efforts in keeping their court thriving was admirable. Most would find the work mundane, and she supposed it could be, but accounting always felt like a puzzle to her - using her brain to solve problems and contribute to the advancement of the Night Court was rewarding.

She wasn’t perfect though, despite that desperate desire within herself to be. She’d push, and push, and push herself completely overlooking all the good she did and absolutely berating herself internally when the occasional mistake occurred.

Azriel was her number one supporter. She’d always imagined him to be better suited for the likes of a fellow warrior such as Mor or a Valkyrie like Gwyn. Perhaps even someone soft and lovely like Elain, a glowing beacon to come home to. Y/N had told Azriel as much when he began pursuing her.

“Why me?” She’d wonder to herself as she assessed her figure in the mirror - overlooking the enticing feminine curves that all but screamed “squeeze me, grip me, take me”, the way her plush lips bowed into a perfectly kissable pout, how her radiant skin that nearly glowed rendered her ethereal. She only saw imperfections. Not to mention that she wasn’t graceful or stealthy, she couldn’t cook or keep plants alive to save her damned life, and she had a tendency to get stuck inside her mind.

Truthfully this week was more than busy, it was hard. She’d pushed herself to meet deadlines that she’d gotten behind on due to an influx in workload. She’d made a few mistakes that nobody had issue with - except herself. Nuala and Cerridwen were taking well-deserved time off, leaving the essential household tasks on the back burner. Between working endless hours, Azriel being gone on a mission, and a flare up of the anxiety that she’d put so much effort into working through over the years - she was exhausted.

Physically her muscles ached, stomach cramped, and her head pounded as the all-too-familiar symptoms of her impending semi-annual cycle took root. Her mind and spirit were utterly fatigued from the busy week, the flare up of anxiety, and the overall stress of life. She was desperate for Azriel to return from his mission soon.

It was around 9PM when she coerced herself into wrapping up work on Friday night, she spent three hours afterward tending to the house and catching up on neglected tasks from the week, too tired to even bathe as she crawled into bed - sleep claiming her immediately.

She awoke the next day to a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Hello beautiful.” Azriel whispered against her skin, pulling back to allow those intense hazel eyes a chance to examine her. Her eyelids fluttered and brows furrowed as she let out an exhausted groan, “baby…” a small smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she reached toward him in a needy manner that made his heart ache. He hated leaving her for missions though she always understood and supported him. He leaned down, wrapping his arms around her body, letting his warmth seep into her bones as she melted into his embrace.

Azriel noticed the flinch she made as the sun shone through the window into their room, quickly flaring his wings to block it from view until her eyes adjusted. “What’s wrong, love?” He whispered, though he already had an idea. The heat of his breath against her ear sent chills through her, prompting her to give a quick nip to his neck before kissing it.

Gods, she’d missed him.

“Nothing baby.” before he could call her on her lie she continued, “what time is it?”

“Well, you missed breakfast.” He smirked.

“Ugh… how did I sleep in so late?” She sat up, rubbing her tired eyes.

Azriel shrugged “Your body must have needed it.”

“Says you.” She scoffed. “You were off all week doing physically demanding work and busting your ass for this court… while I sat on mine balancing ledgers.”

“Y/N…” he spoke, his low voice barely more than a warning growl. “We’re not going to do that. You are allowed to feel tired, allowed to let your body rest. Your work is important.”

She sighed, knowing better than to press on. She knew to pick her battles and that this one was not one she would win.

“Fine.” Y/N shrugged, eyeing a paper bag on the bedside table. “What did you bring me? Please tell me it’s something with chocolate.”

Azriel’s lips curled up into a grin that she’d never tire of seeing, handing over the bag. “See for yourself, darling.”

———

Azriel knew from the moment he stepped into the quiet house that she��d need extra love and attention today. His loving, caring, selfless mate who typically rose early - he swore the sun rose on her accord and not the other way around - was still sound asleep in bed.

He immediately exited the house before she could sense his presence and stopped by her favorite bakery along the Sidra. Chocolate croissants were a necessity in times like these. She’d need a pain relieving tonic, epsom salts and soothing oils, and a bouquet of flowers couldn’t hurt either.

He went ahead and picked up ingredients for a few quick meals and a new book she’d mentioned recently as well.

He had to laugh at the irony. His mate often questioned her worthiness of him. HIM. She couldn’t see what he saw. A passionate, intelligent female who cared for her mate, her court, and family more than anything. Always putting her own needs last but the first to volunteer when help was needed. The cauldron truly found his equal - someone who gave and gave but it was never enough. Someone who couldn’t see her own worth, her pure heart, her devastating beauty - while the rest of the world marveled at it.

She’d been the catalyst in his own self-acceptance. He’d spent centuries believing he wasn’t enough, that he was unworthy of a mate, of his position, of the power he was born with - just to meet this intelligent, radiant being who could bring an entire room to a halt and assume they were only seeing flaws. Not the beauty that could make even kings fall to their knees if she’d only ask. When the bond snapped, he decided then and there that he would show her just how worthy she was. In the decade they’d been mated, she finally started to see her worth, how precious she was to him, to those she graced with her presence. But life is complicated and triggers are inevitable, especially when it came to the flare of hormones that accompanied an impending cycle.

—————

The chocolate croissants were a win if the drawn-out contented sigh Y/N let out upon finishing her third one was any indication. He’d shared details of his mission as she indulged in the pastries and she gave him a few details of her week - frowning as she went into detail about the “mistakes” she’d made.

They were common mistakes that anyone would make, truthfully, some weren’t even her fault, but he listened as she let it out. He’d learned over the years that sometimes she just needed to get it off her chest and not advice. Simply hearing each other out had become a key element in the foundation of their relationship - when thoughts became too much - they were always listening ears for each other.

Once she’d gotten it off her chest she changed the subject by asking, “What do you want to do today?”

Azriel had a lot to do - but his mate took priority this weekend. He gave her a wicked grin, “I want nothing more than to waste away in this bed with you all day.”

“But?” She replied.

“But nothing.” He flicked her nose. “I want to spend the day in bed with my mate - is there something wrong with that?”

Azriel could see the war in her mind. Debating whether she deserved to take a day off, or should tend to other tasks. Before she could object he leaned in, lips capturing hers in a deep, loving kiss. She immediately opened for him, his tongue lazily tangling with hers. “Fine” she murmured.

“That’s my girl.” He cooed before returning to claiming her mouth, the shell of her ears, her neck.

“Mmm” she purred into his kiss while he palmed at her breast through her silken cobalt night gown. Her swollen breasts immediately peaking beneath his touch.

“So responsive” his low voice growled into her neck, sending fire straight through her, igniting her core. “Is that beautiful pussy as ready for me as these are?” He asked, tweaking a nipple through her gown.

The responding moan told him more than enough as he hitched the hem of her nightgown up to her waist, exposing the dripping cunt practically begging for him underneath. His eyes rolled back at the intoxicating scent of arousal drifting up into his nose. “Holy shit, Y/N.” he groaned, clearly pleased with the sight.

He ran a finger through her slick core, adding a teasingly light amount of pressure to her clit but before he could insert a finger she moaned “No Az, I can’t wait. Please.”

“You don’t want my fingers?” He teased, slipping one inside of her. Mother, she was absolutely soaked.

“Az…Fuck. No. Please.” She pleaded. Reaching down to palm the hardened length beneath his sweatpants. “I need that inside of me. Now”

Typically he would reprimand her for being so demanding, robbing him of his playtime with her sweet, dripping sex. But the desperation in her voice left him desperate to oblige her.

“Since you asked nicely.” He replied, to which she frantically helped him out of his pants.

Before she could reconsider taking more fingers, he thrusted his length into her. Hard. Every thick, aching inch of him, stretching and filling her completely.

“Like that?” He asked as her moans filled the room.

“Yes. Yes, Az.”

“Fuck.” She cried out. “Just. Like. That.” Each word coming out individually timed to the thrusts of his cock.

There was no way he was going to last long at this pace, especially after being away for a week. “Not gonna last long like this. Fuck!” He ground out.

She grit her teeth as his thrusts became harder, more erratic. “Then fill me, Az. Need your cum.”

Slipping a hand between them, he pressed his thumb to her clit, moving it in that perfected motion he’d finessed over the years as he diligently studied her body, a scholar whose sole discipline laid in pleasuring his mate. Locking his eyes with her, he gently commanded “Cum with me baby.”

With that they both let go. Their releases filling the room like a song. A melody Azriel would never tire of, one he replayed in his mind somehow far too often, yet never enough during his time away.

Azriel stayed inside of her until their breaths settled, evening out into sync with eachother. He reveled in the warmth of her. His perfect mate - physically, emotionally, spiritually. He’d never take this for granted.

Finally he pulled out of her in one long sweep, she looked down to admire the still considerable length of him even when partially softened. Her stomach dropped to see blood mixed in with their combined releases.

“Az, oh, I’m so s-” She started but he cut her off.

“Baby. It’s just a little blood.”

She almost looked ashamed. “I know but- I’m embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” He puzzled. “It’s completely natural. Do you really think blood bothers me? Come on now beautiful, we’ve had sex during your cycle before. Why shy away now?”

“I just didn’t expect the bleeding to have started already. It explains why I’ve felt so lethargic, I suppose.”

Azriel went to get a warm cloth from the adjoined washroom, returning to wipe her. Her cheeks flushed at the intimate action.

“Stop overthinking it. Besides, we’re mates.” He smiled, a soft look overtaking his eyes. “If you still want to have children with me someday, your cycle is kind of an essential step of the process.”

Y/N flushed at the comment. The thought of carrying his babies was something she’d dreamed about for years now. Thank the gods for her distant Illyrian ancestry and the genes that blessed her with curvy hips capable of birthing winged babes.

“You know, with my cycle returning… we could always start trying? If we stopped taking our tonics now - it should be out of our system in time for ovulation. Rhys has offered recently to let me bring on an assistant book keeper, which would be excellent timing.”

Azriel’s heart fluttered at the thought of it. His mate round and glowing as she carried their baby, a babe that would know so much more love than he ever had as a child. Something so pure and beautiful that could come from the love between he and his mate. They’d talked about it for years now, a dream of theirs. He had to quickly blink away the silver lining his eyes at the gift she was offering him, his selfless mate in all her infinite love. There was no way he could verbally reply in the moment without choking up so he sent waves of adoration, joy, and gratitude down the bond.

She sent every bit of love right back to him, propping up on her elbows to capture his lips in a promising kiss.

———-

After they came to a decision, Azriel carried Y/N to the bathing room where a hot bath full of the oils and epsom salts he’d picked up that morning were waiting. She nearly cried at the relief of the welcoming heat that greeted her.

Before she could object, Azriel quickly stepped out to change the sheets, promptly returning to slide into the bath tub behind her. He washed her hair, massaging her scalp to which she nearly purred like a cat. He carefully washed her entire body massaging her back, thighs, calves, shoulders, and breasts in the process. By the time he was done tending to her, she’d nearly fallen asleep.

Ever the caretaker, she tried to wash him in return but he insisted that this was about her - passing her a rolled up towel to place behind her neck while she relaxed, letting the oils from the bath soak into her skin as he lathered himself. He got out first, toweling himself off before lifting her out of the tub and drying her off with a heated towel.

Though she insisted she could do it herself, Azriel wasn’t having it. This was his day to care for his mate so he helped her into cloth lined linens and selfishly left her topless, slipping her underneath the fresh blankets.

He assured her he’d be right back slipping out to the kitchen to heat up her favorite gnocchi soup and fetch a tray he’d prepared with her pain relieving tonic, bouquet of flowers, and more chocolate.

It didn’t take much to bring his mate joy - the genuine gratitude she’d send down the bond at even the smallest gestures was never lost on him. Perhaps it was self-serving but he couldn’t resist surprising her, coveting each warm smile she’d give him as if he’d never feel warmth again.

He prayed their future babes had her smile, her eyes, any of her features, truly. But most of all, her heart - maybe then, beating within the most precious gift the mother could offer them, she’d finally see just how beautiful she really was.

————

He had to beg and plead like a mad male but finally she agreed to spend the entire weekend in bed with him. Who knew that he, the one who was typically the workaholic, would be the one to grovel at his mates feet begging her to take a break.

Fortunately, she was not immune to his charms and obliged him. At one point, she snuck out of bed in an attempt to accomplish a few tasks around the house before her cramps humbled her. Azriel was promptly startled awake from the nap he’d drifted off to as she loudly exclaimed from down the hall, “Fuck it. Back to bed.”

They spent the rest of the weekend making love, whispering of their dreams for the future, indulging in sweets, and reveling in each others touch with no shortage of laughter and kissing in between.

——————————

A/n: So I’ve totally been under the weather this weekend with no motivation to write but as I laid in bed with my own partner tending to me with whatever I needed, I couldn’t resist writing this. I intended it to be a Drabble but the words just kept flowing. I stan fluffy Az. Anyway, thanks for reading!

For those of you waiting on new parts to my current fics - I promise they’re coming along and will be out soon! xo ♥️

#sarah j maas #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #azriel #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #acotar smut #acotar fluff #sickfic #shadowsinger #shadowsinger smut #shadowsinger x reader #acotar oneshot #fluff and smut #acotar fluff and smut

751 notes · View notes